#recovered memory 15

[camellia-thea]

i realise i didn't actually say anything about my guitar. her name is tamerlane, she has mahogany top, back and sides, and a rosewood bridge and fingerboard, gloss top, satin body and neck, she's electric acoustic and i love her.

she sounds really lovely and warm.

[bioshocked-astroghost]

hey you know big preesh to Steam’s lousy ass servers going down and failing to sync to the cloud and me not knowing until after I exited a 10 hour Skyrim session

Really really really appreciate that, definitely don’t have any concerns about losing all that progress I made after finally heading to Solstheim for the first time this playthrough

I am just so thrilled this is great I am so normal about this situation right now

[lunarsapphism]

i hate ocd <3 bane of my fucking existence for real

[chaoticace2005]

List of why the Radio Demon disappeared for 7 years:

1. His fight with Vox ended really badly and he needed to recover.

2. He went somewhere to acquire more power.

3. He had a mission to do because of his deal.

4. Vox confessed his love for Alastor. Alastor had no idea how to respond to this so he ghosted Vox for seven years. But Vox had access to cameras everywhere so the best way to ghost Vox is to ghost the city.

5. Met a wise old man who taught him the secrets to life, he had a training montage.

6. Took a gap year(s) to “find himself”

7. Extended tea party at Rosie’s

8. His shadow got pissed at him and decided to swallow him, sending him to a shadow dimension that he drifted in for seven years.

9. His friends from the other side finally caught up to him and he had to repay his debt

10. His tailor went on sabbatical and he couldn’t leave his place without the proper amount of drip so he had to wait for him to return.

11. There was a shortage of red hair dye, he had to wait for them to restock.

12. Someone took a photo of him with his tail out. He went on a mission to hunt them down and DESTROY them.

13. He went to the Hellmart to cause $50,000 in TV damages (Tomota vid reference)

14. He was busy making diss tracks for everyone he knows and lost track of time.

15. Susan beat him in a bake sale and he had to hide out of shame.

16. Honeymoon with his cane.

17. Fell into a coma

18. Found out about the Alastor-Body Pillow Vox had and then had to ensure they were never manufactured again.

19. He accidentally saw part of one of Angel’s pornos and was traumatized. He had to leave Pentagram City because everyone he went he saw his face.

20. Hung out with Lilith who dished tea about Lucifer.

21. Was told he was “outdated” so he took the time to educate himself on modern slang.

22. Tried to find an obedience trainer for cats.

23. He time traveled seven years into the future and just decided to run with it.

24. Alastor was killed. That’s not Alastor. That’s a shadow acting as him.

25. That’s not Alastor, that’s his twin brother.

26. Walked in on a role play session between a Vox and Valentino-Dressed-Up-Like-Alastor and needed to find a way to erase the memory.

27. Bonked his head. Woke up and thought his name was Bob, he lived a nice, happy life until he bonked his head again.

28. Fell through a portal and woke up in a dimension where his name was a bird named Crane who was a janitor in a world of King Fu and pandas.

29. Got access to the season 1 script so he could mentally prepare. He’s been rehearsing his lines and doing his best to make his performance as disturbing as possible.

30. Went to the dentist. When they tried to help him he ate them, so he had to find another dentist, who he also ate. This went on for a while.

31. Was run out of town by his dentist who got annoyed he kept dodging his appointments

32. Got relationship counseling for him and his shadow.

33. Was just out having a good time, partying, and consuming souls.

34. Went on a seven year long bender.

35. Rosie told him he was an “arrow” so he went to archery classes. Turns out she was wrong and archery really isn’t his forte.

[just-aake]

Boundless Devotion - Part XV (Final)

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.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Warnings: light angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Words: 8179

It’s difficult to know how much time has passed when you’re trapped within your own mind.

One moment, you’re glaring at the one who you once believed was your father, wishing for his downfall. 

The next, you’re falling into the eyes of the one who holds your heart, all while gripping a dagger aimed at hers.

The lost time spent drifting between reality and darkness always leaves you with a sense of helplessness, especially when you later awaken to discover the actions you took during that time, actions that still haunt you.

Your current condition feels similar to that feeling of being trapped, except, unfortunately, this experience is far more agonizing.

With each passing moment, every part of you aches, both mentally and physically. 

The sensation only seems to intensify, worsening to where it feels as though your entire body is engulfed in flames, burning from the inside out. Even the simple act of breathing becomes a challenge, let alone attempting to move.

At times, the overwhelming agony drains you to the point where your weary mind is tempted to just surrender to the dark void at the edge of your consciousness, promising relief.

But then a voice breaks through amidst all of the pain, calling your name in desperate pleading.

Though your tired mind struggles to place the voice in the moment, it feels familiar. 

There's something about it that warms your heart, making you forget about the pain even if only for a fleeting moment. 

The devastation in their tone is the reason you find the sudden need within you to push through the agony, if only to help alleviate the sadness in their voice.

And so, that's what you decide to do.

You endure, and you stay.

Gradually, it starts getting better. The pain lessens along with fewer waves of feverish sensations coursing through your body. 

Eventually, you hear other voices too, all familiar and all concerned for you. And as your mind slowly recovers from the fog of pain, it begins to piece those voices with their respective owners.

Wanda and Pietro

Yelena and Kate

Carol

Even Queen Melina

Ironically, the one voice you hear the most, always a constant source of comfort and peace at your side, is the one that proves the most challenging to place.

Frustrated at the mystery of this person, you eventually gather enough strength one day to will your mind to wake up, determined to finally discover their identity.

Slowly, your eyes open, and after a few blinks, your vision clears.

The first thing you realize is that you’re not in your room, but the surroundings look familiar. With a dull ache on your stomach, you opt to turn your head instead to survey the rest of the area. 

As your gaze falls upon the sleeping figure by the window, illuminated by the afternoon sun casting a warm glow on her red hair, memories flood back, and you finally recall the owner of that elusive voice.

Natasha

With her eyes closed, the princess sits in her window seat facing you, her head resting on her hand against her bent knee. 

The realization that she must have fallen asleep, likely exhausted from watching over you, causes a sad bittersweet feeling to form in your heart.

Glancing around once more, you take in Natasha’s bedroom, a place you haven’t visited in a while since before everything that had happened last year.

Despite subtle changes in details, everything remains mostly unchanged. Her swords and armor hang securely on the wall, and her shelves are lined with books and personal items that she treasured through the years.

On her desk, a small stack of papers awaits her attention, likely documents of the kingdom needing review, and adjacent to them sits a tray of obviously untouched food.

You frown at the sight, aware of Natasha’s tendency to neglect meals whenever she’s stressed or too busy.

Returning your gaze to her, you notice the dark circles under her eyes, deepening your frown and concern. 

Intending to call out to her and urge her to rest in her bed, you open your mouth, but your parched throat betrays you, plunging you into a painful fit of coughing instead.

Natasha’s eyes snap open instantly, her body tensing in alertness as she searches the room, before locking onto you in realization.

She swiftly rises from the window seat and approaches the edges of the bed where you lie, her hand reaching out to comfort you but then she stops in hesitation just before she touches you.

As you regain your breath, you notice her hand clench with nervous energy before slowly withdrawing to her side.

Summoning your strength, you reach out and grasp her hand firmly, not letting her go far, as you intertwine your fingers and rest them atop the bed. 

You nod toward the bed, silently urging her to stay by your side.

Natasha's tense posture relaxes at your gesture, and a faint, relieved smile forms on her lips as she takes a seat at the edge of the bed. She reaches for the cup on the nightstand, bringing it to your lips and helping you take a sip, soothing your parched throat.

In a whisper so soft as if afraid to break the moment with you, Natasha asks, "How are you feeling?"

“Sore,” you respond honestly, your voice still strained.

A flash of regret flickers across Natasha’s face as she looks towards your injury. Not wanting her to spiral into guilt over what happened, you tug on her clasped hand to bring her attention back to you.

“Can you help me sit up?” you ask, determination in your tone as you release her hand and prepare to push yourself upright.

“You really shouldn’t be moving right now,” Natasha cautions, her hands hovering tentatively in concern.

“I know, but I want to,” you insist. 

The thought of continuing to lie helplessly on your back, a sight that likely tormented Natasha during your time of unconsciousness, doesn’t sit well with you.

You want to reassure her that you’re feeling better than your previously weakened state.

Natasha hesitates, torn between honoring your request or prioritizing your well-being. However, she comes to a decision when she sees the determined look on your face.

“You’re so stubborn,” she remarks with a gentle shake of her head, a hint of fondness in her voice, as her hands move to support you carefully in sitting up against the headboard.

“Takes one to know one,” you tease lightly, offering a small smile as you lean back, taking a moment to catch your breath.

A comfortable silence settles between you as you stare up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

Memories flood back, and you distinctly recall Natasha’s anguished face above you before darkness consumed your vision. 

Your smile drops slightly at the memory, and with a tired sigh, you turn to meet her patient gaze, breaking the silence.

“How long was I out for?” you ask softly.

“Three days,” Natasha responds gently.

Processing the information, disappointment washes over you as you realize what was supposed to have taken place yesterday.

“Your coronation…I missed it,” you say sadly.

Natasha chuckles softly, shaking her head in disbelief at your priority.

“No, you didn’t,” she reassures. “I’m not the queen yet.”

At your confused expression, Natasha continues her explanation.

“I postponed it. And before you say I didn’t have to, you know that there was no way I would have gone through with it without having you there.”

“Besides,” Natasha adds with a playful smirk. “Staying by your side is always better than any kind of event, even if it’s my coronation.”

Her comment lightens the somber atmosphere, drawing a small laugh from you, which makes her grin in turn.

The action causes a dull ache to appear at your side, and unconsciously, your hand moves to brush against the bandages covering where the blade had pierced you, reminding you of your ordeal.

“So what happened after…” you trail off, unable to voice the memory.

Natasha's gaze shifts sadly to your wounded area as she begins to explain.

"Yelena arrived with the physician shortly after. They tended to Pietro and you," she recounts. "Meanwhile, Kate stayed at her manor to apprehend the attackers and helped Wanda to recover."

Concern flickers in your eyes, prompting Natasha to offer a reassuring grin.

"Don't worry, Wanda's fine. She just tired herself out when she took down Rumlow and his followers.”

At your puzzled expression, Natasha moves her hand pointedly, mirroring the similar action of Wanda’s whenever she uses her powers.

“Oh,” you say, at a loss for words in realization.

Natasha chuckles at your expression, raising her brows at you.

“You did say she had a special way with people.”

Sighing worriedly, you explain your reasoning for keeping Wanda’s abilities a secret.

“You know how some people are towards magic, Natasha.”

“Well, considering she saved our lives, I’ll make sure no one messes with her, though I’m sure she can protect herself just fine.”

You let out a small breath of relief at her reassurance before inquiring further, “What about everyone else?”

Natasha tilts her head in thought as she continues to recount the events afterward.

“Clint was able to warn my dad, Steve, and Carol in time to capture the ones under control here in the castle. And as for the ones that went after my mom…” 

She lets out an exasperated sigh before continuing, “...let’s just say that they shouldn’t have attacked her in her lab when she was in the middle of mixing certain chemicals and powders.”

You chuckle lightly at the thought, knowing about Queen Melina’s tendency to cause explosions in her lab during her experiments. 

However, the mention of explosions brings a grim reminder of another figure Natasha hasn't mentioned yet.

“And Dreykov?” you ask cautiously. “Did he escape?”

Natasha's hand clench into a fist at his name, her expression clouding with silent fury.

"No, he's currently in prison, awaiting trial. Along with the rest of the traitors," she responds, shaking her head with resolve. 

Taking your hand in a reassuring grip, she adds, "But you don't need to worry about him. I won't let him hurt you ever again."

Natasha lifts your hand to her lips, pressing a gentle kiss against your skin.

“I promise.”

You offer her a grateful smile, relieved at the information.

However, a sense of resignation settles in as you prepare to bring up the next topic.

“I guess all that’s left is to decide what to do about me,” you say with a heavy sigh.

Natasha tightens her grip on your hand as she urges gently, "Just concentrate on getting better.”

You chuckle lightly before your expression turns somber as you clarify.

"No, I mean about me being the Stark princess."

An awkward silence descends in the air, both of you acutely aware of the weight of the decision looming over you.

As much as you dislike it, the reality of your identity remains, and you need to officially address its involvement in your future eventually. 

“What do you want to do?” Natasha finally asks, breaking the silence.

You contemplate your options and remember your conversation with Bucky, finding that your feelings about your decision remain unchanged even now.

"Honestly, Natasha, I want to just leave it in the past," you admit. "Everything's relatively peaceful between the kingdoms at the moment. What's the point in bringing up troubling revelations from mistakes in the past?"

“Are you sure?” Natasha questions in concern before pointing out. “You’re essentially rejecting your title as a princess.”

You nod, giving her a content smile.

​​"I've never needed it in my life before,” you say as you tilt your head at her in question, a hint of warmth in your voice as you ask, “Besides, I already have a princess in my life, don't I?”

Natasha returns your gaze with an affectionate smile before intertwining your hands together.

"Yeah, I'm yours," she affirms softly.

Gradually, you feel more strength returning to your body as you remain awake, nodding confidently as you adjust your position carefully.

"I think I'm feeling better enough to go back to my manor this evening," you observe, suggesting, "If you could have the twins come and help me, then you can finally get a proper night's sleep in your own bed tonight."

Before you can sit up any further, Natasha’s hand moves to your shoulder, gently holding you in place, her expression filled with disbelief.

Glancing at her hand, you give her a questioning look, causing Natasha to shake her head exasperatedly.

"If you think you're going to leave this bed anytime soon, especially after being stabbed for my sake, you need to think again," Natasha says firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Meeting her gaze, you both engage in a standoff, locked in a silent challenge. After a moment, Natasha raises her brow at you.

“If the situation was reversed, would you let me move?” she asks pointedly.

You open your mouth to reply before deflating in resignation, knowing you would do the same as her if you were in her position.

“Fine,” you concede, though a small pout forms on your lips, before adding, “But I should still return your bed to you and move into one of the guest rooms.”

Natasha tilts her head in thought as she traces a pattern on the blanket on your lap before commenting.

"Is that really necessary? It's not like we haven't slept in the same bed before," she reasons, her tone light.

Then, with a teasing smirk, she adds, "Unless this is your way of avoiding me after I confessed that I love you."

You pause, taken aback by her casual declaration, and you feel your cheeks heating up as you finally process her words. 

When you see the victorious smirk on her face, you roll your eyes and shake your head, giving her a chatising look.

“You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, frustration evident in your tone, though there's a hint of fondness.

“I believe you’ve always called me charming,” Natasha retorts, her smirk widening.

Frustrated, your hands grip the collar of her tunic tightly, pulling her closer to you.

"Natasha Alianovna Romanov," you begin, your voice tinged with both exasperation and affection.

She smirks, amusement dancing in her eyes as she catches herself with her hands against the bed on each side of you, encasing you between her arms. 

Gazing at you with a teasing expression, she prompts, "Yes?"

With a small smile, you finally gather the courage to voice the words you've been longing to tell her.

"I'm in love with you," you confess softly, your heart pounding in your chest.

"That's good..." Natasha replies, her voice tender as she leans in closer, "...cause I'm deeply in love with you too."

Her words brush against your lips softly, and without hesitation, you tug her closer, closing the tiny distance between the two of you.

The kiss feels both new and familiar, a perfect blend of passion and tenderness, as you lose yourself in the moment, savoring the warmth of her lips against yours.

Natasha is the one who pulls back first, resting her forehead against yours and letting out a happy sigh.

"You have no idea how many times I've wanted to do that," she admits, her voice filled with sincere longing.

Unconsciously, you lightly bite your lip to keep the warmth and feeling of her there for a little longer, before noticing Natasha's gaze drifting down to the subtle movement. 

You recall the countless times you've witnessed that look of desire in her eyes, prompting a small chuckle to escape your lips as you pull her in closer.

"I think I do," you tease, brushing lightly against her lips. "You're not exactly subtle, princess."

Natasha lets out a tiny huff, her lips curving into a playful smile before she leans in for another kiss and then another, each one gentle and delicate, never leaving your lips for more than a second, as she steals your breath away and makes you melt against her.

Your hand, still lingering on her collar, instinctively seeks more contact, slipping beneath the thin layer of her clothing to clutch at her bare shoulder.

The warmth of her skin beneath your touch only intensifies the longing between you as you try to pull her closer.

As you go to deepen the kiss, the moment is suddenly shattered by an unexpected interruption.

“Oh my—Nat! Let her breathe! She just woke up!”

Startled, you pull back from Natasha, breaking the kiss, as your gaze shifts to the doorway where Yelena and Kate stand. 

Natasha groans in frustration, her head falling against your shoulder.

Kate quickly steps in to cover Yelena's mouth, offering you an apologetic expression.

"Sorry! We just wanted to check on you two. We didn't mean to interrupt," she explains, as Yelena’s objection is muffled behind her hand.

Still pressed against your neck, Natasha responds in an annoyed tone, "Then leave."

Yelena rolls her eyes at her sister's bluntness, pulling Kate's hand away to respond, "Alright, alright, we get it."

With a warm smile directed at you, Yelena adds, "It's good to see you awake, Y/n."

"Yeah, we're glad that you're okay," Kate chimes in, relief evident in her eyes.

You offer them both a grateful nod. "Thank you two for coming."

“I guess we’ll visit you later then,” Yelena remarks, moving to take Kate's arm and guide her away from the door.

As Kate closes the door behind them, you catch snippets of their conversation.

"Should we really, though?" Kate's voice holds a hint of hesitation. "I don't want to interrupt them again while they're...you know."

Yelena hums thoughtfully before responding, "I mean it's a good thing we did this time, or else Y/n would have probably pulled out her stitches trying to undress Natasha."

Your face flushes with embarrassment as you instinctively cover it with your hands, feeling a wave of mortification wash over you. 

Natasha chuckles lightly, adjusting her tunic as she shoots you a playful smirk, a teasing glint dancing in her eyes.

“Don’t even start,” you warn, noticing her mischievous expression.

Natasha holds up her hands innocently, adopting a nonchalant tone as she suggests, "I was just going to say we should have the physician come and check your condition."

She then adds with a teasing edge, "After all, you may have overexerted yourself from being so eager to kiss me."

You huff in disbelief, raising a skeptical eyebrow at her.

"I'm the eager one?" you ask, a hint of amusement in your tone.

Natasha nods with mock seriousness. 

"If you say so."

Rolling your eyes, you playfully swat at her shoulder, then turn away with a small pout.

"In all seriousness, though, let me go get the physician," Natasha says, amusement evident in her voice at your behavior.

As she turns to leave, you call out to her.

"Wait, Natasha.”

She turns back to face you, curiosity in her eyes.

Leaning forward, you catch her off guard with a surprise kiss before pulling away.

"...okay, now you can go," you whisper against her lips.

Natasha's eyes fluttered closed at the unexpected contact, her tongue lightly tracing where your lips touched hers. When she finally opens her eyes again, they seem impossibly darker, filled with a mixture of desire and love that makes your breath catch.

“That’s unfair,” she breathes out, her voice husky with desire. “…doing that just as I’m about to leave.”

You pull away slightly, only for her to follow, not allowing the distance between you two to grow. A sly, knowing grin spreads across your face as you tease her.

"I just wanted to see who between us is actually the one who's more eager."

"I'm your princess, yet you're teasing me like this," Natasha says playfully, feigning disbelief.

"And you still love me anyway," you point out, a fond smile playing on your lips.

Natasha's eyes soften, and she closes the distance between you once more, whispering her next words against your lips.

“Yeah, I do.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Upon hearing that you were awake, Wanda and Pietro arrived quickly just as the physician was assessing your condition. 

Soon after, a request from her mother to speak with Natasha in private causes her to leave the twins in charge of watching over you at your insistence.

Now, Natasha stands in her private study, a deep frown creasing her forehead as she examines the letters that her mother had handed to her.

“What is this?” Natasha asks, her voice steady but laced with a subtle hint of anger as she reads the contents of some of the letters.

Melina lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing her temples as if trying to ward off an impending headache, knowing that her daughter won't take the news well.

“Many of the heads of the other noble houses in the kingdom are asking for Lord Dreykov’s release,” she reveals grimly.

“He tried to kill me,” Natasha states incredulously. “And yet they’re still defending him.”

“I warned you that Lord Dreykov is influential among the other nobles. You need strong evidence if you want people to turn their back on him,” her mother reminds her.

She then places a stack of documents on the desk, and Natasha quickly realizes that these are the results of Steve’s investigation.

Her mother continues her lecture, as Natasha skims the contents.

“The staff from the Bishop manor provided witness accounts of Lord Rumlow and the others' betrayal, but there were no witnesses at Dreykov’s manor besides you and Y/n.”

“What about his guards?” Natasha suggests.

Melina shakes her head grimly. “Found dead in their cells by unknown means.”

“What about Barnes?” Natasha points out the presence of the old captain.

Melina gives her a look of disbelief, raising an eyebrow. 

“The other nobles are not going to believe the words of a known criminal.”

Frustration and disbelief cloud Natasha's expression as she processes the information. She searches for another angle, another way to bring Dreykov to justice.

“If we can’t prove attempted murder against me, then what about the fact that he almost killed Y/n?”

Melina grimaces, her reluctance evident in her expression as she braces herself to deliver the answer Natasha doesn't want to hear.

“What is it?” Natasha presses, her tone betraying a hint of impatience.

Melina taps the stack of letters pointedly before explaining, “Many argue that Dreykov’s actions against Y/n are akin to a father disciplining their child and is not a crime, especially considering she survived. They believe it's a family matter that should be resolved within the respective house and not involve any others.”

Natasha's frown deepens as she hears this, her hand tightening around the letters.

“I told you handling the relationships between the nobles of the court is delicate work,” Melina reminds her gently.

“Yeah, I’m starting to see what you mean,” Natasha concedes, her expression resigned in anger at the twisted parts of the kingdom.

Melina offers a comforting gesture, placing a hand on Natasha's shoulder and giving her a proud look.

“Don’t worry, Natasha. Lord Dreykov can still be forced to face trial if you want. And I’m confident that you can convince the others to be on your side. In this matter and the future.”

Her mother’s encouragement does little to ease Natasha’s mind of the difficult task ahead for her once she becomes the queen.

Despite the troubling news, Natasha still thanks her mother for the warning before taking her leave.

Returning to your side, Natasha finds you resting once again, exhaustion evident in your features. She watches you with a tender and affectionate gaze, remembering her promise to protect you from any further harm. 

If there's one thing Natasha is certain of for the future, it's her unwavering commitment to fulfilling her vow to protect you.

With that resolve in mind, she later finds herself standing at the entrance of the most secure cell in prison, her arms crossed as she fixes a steely glare on the person seated in the shadows.

"Well?" Dreykov's voice cuts through the stillness of the chamber. “Is that girl dead yet?”

Natasha's jaw clenches at his callous words, refusing to be baited by his cruelty. 

A click of his tongue signals his understanding before he speaks again, his tone laced with a hint of mockery.

“No, you wouldn’t let that happen. So, then, are you here to finish what you started?”

Dreykov's eyes finally meet hers, his form emerging from the darkness as he tilts his head, his injuries still evident in the flickering light.

His face bears the remnants of bruises, one eye swollen shut—a testament to the beating Natasha had inflicted upon him when she first learned of the severity and uncertainty of your condition from the physician.

Unconsciously, Natasha's hands clench into fists, the memory of her rage surfacing as she recalls the moment she unleashed her fury upon him, her knuckles bruising and bleeding until Yelena intervened to pull her away. 

Dreykov catches her movement, a knowing glint in his eyes as a smirk tug at the corners of his lips.

“I see, so you’re mad because you can’t kill me,” he says confidently, accurately guessing her current predicament. “Tell me, how many of the other nobles have interceded for my release?”

Natasha grits her teeth in irritation at the extent of Dreykov's influence over the court and the fact he already knows that some nobles would rally to his defense. 

“They’ll abandon you once they realize what sort of person you truly are,” she retorts, her tone firm.

Dreykov chuckles in amusement, unfazed by her words.

“Feeling pressured already?” he taunts. “It’s just going to get worse from here on. After all, I’m not the only one in this kingdom who wants a war.”

“And you already know that I would never let that happen,” Natasha counters, her voice tinged with resolve. “That’s the whole reason why you didn’t want me as the queen in the first place.”

Dreykov eyes her critically, considering her words before a smirk dances across his lips.

“Perhaps I was wrong about you. You have potential. You just need the right…” he waves his hand dramatically. “…motivation.”

Rolling her eyes at his attempt at manipulation, Natasha turns to leave.

However, before she can reach the exit, Dreykov's voice calls out to her, stopping her in her tracks.

“Do you know what causes war the most, Your Highness? More than greed or vengeance?”

Natasha turns back to glare at him, irritated by his continued insinuations.

At her silence, he answers his own question.

“Love,” he spits out the word in disgust. “Such a foolish emotion, but you’d be surprised at how much destruction it can cause.”

He raises his brow at her, gesturing pointedly. “And it seems you have plenty for that pathetic girl.”

Natasha slams her fist against the bars, anger erupting, as she glares daggers at him.

“You better hope you don’t get to leave this cell, Dreykov. Because if I ever see you free…” she pauses, her voice lowering to a dangerous tone. “…I’ll kill you myself.”

Despite her threat, a pleased smile forms on Dreykov’s face, as if her words confirmed something for him, infuriating her further.

Turning swiftly to the door, Natasha indicates to the guards to let her out, but Dreykov's voice interrupts her again.

“I do have one more question for you.”

The door opens for her to leave as he continues.

“If that girl ever ends up in the way of you and your so-called peace, would you still choose to avoid war then…or would you fight for her?”

Natasha clenches her hand, finding herself unable to respond, her mind consumed by the weight of his words.

With a determined look, she decides not to entertain his question further, swiftly leaving the cell and slamming the door shut behind her.

“I look forward to seeing what your choice would be when that time comes, Your Majesty,” Dreykov's voice echoes tauntingly down the corridor as Natasha makes her way back to you.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The unsettling exchange with Dreykov from that night a week ago still lingers in her mind as Natasha sits at her desk, lost in thought.

She ponders his cryptic words, bothered by his confidence that trouble was coming, and especially at the implication of having you in the middle of it all.

Her main concern is for your safety, prompting her to consider every possible scenario where you might be at risk.

After all, she had come dangerously close to losing you during the recent conflict, a thought that sends a shiver down her spine every time.

Leaning back in her chair, Natasha’s gaze falls on the small opened box resting on her desk, illuminated by the soft moonlight filtering through the window.

The red gemstone embedded in the golden band glimmers with a silent promise, one that she hasn’t dared to ask you yet.

Pushing aside the unsettling thoughts of Dreykov's words, Natasha closes the lid of the box with a gentle sigh, tucking it away in the drawer for safekeeping. 

One day, she promises.

When she can guarantee your safety and ensure that she can provide you with a peaceful future, she’ll give it to you then.

A knock at her door draws her attention, and Natasha looks up to see you poking your head inside, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

"Don’t tell me you’re hiding already?" you tease, your voice laced with amusement.

Natasha's lips curve into a fond smile at the sight of you, her worries momentarily pushed aside by your presence.

Chuckling softly, she shakes her head before asking, “Did my mother send you?”

“She wanted me to make sure you wouldn’t be late,” you reply, walking over to her with cautious steps, mindful of your injury.

Leaning back against her desk, you give her a pointed look.

“After all, it’s your last ball as the princess before you become the queen tomorrow.”

Natasha smiles gently at the reminder before glancing down at the area of your dress where she knows the bandages are hiding underneath. Her expression softens with concern as she meets your eyes.

“How are you feeling?” she asks.

“Better,” you assure her. “I’ve been able to move around by myself without any help.”

Standing up, Natasha intertwines her fingers with yours, drawing you closer as she gazes at you.

“You look beautiful,” she compliments softly, her eyes reflecting genuine admiration.

“So do you,” you respond, your hand reaching up to gently brush against her cheek, slowly losing yourself in her gaze.

Then as if remembering your original goal, you clear your throat and nod towards the door. 

“We should go. Your mother’s expecting us,” you remind her.

At your suggestion, Natasha moves closer to you, enclosing you between the desk and her body.

“I’m sure we can spare a couple of minutes, can’t we?” she asks, her voice lowering suggestively, caressing the air as she leans in.

Raising a brow skeptically, you tilt your head slightly, your lips barely grazing hers as you ask, “Only a couple of minutes?”

The moment your lips touch hers, Natasha's eyes darken with desire, her breath catching in her throat.

Absentmindedly humming in agreement, she whispers, “…yeah, just a couple…” before closing the distance between you.

Arriving at the ball later than expected, you and Natasha are greeted by her mother at the entrance, who gives you both a reprimanding yet knowing look.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, offering her a genuinely apologetic expression. “We lost track of time talking.”

Melina raises her hand in a stopping gesture at your explanation.

“No, don’t apologize, Y/n. I’m sure I can guess what happened,” she says, shooting a pointed glare at her daughter before turning her attention back to you.

“Would you mind giving us a moment alone?”

You nod in understanding, softly excusing yourself.

Natasha brings the back of your hand up for a gentle kiss goodbye before releasing it, and you turn to leave the two women to their private conversation.

“Hold on, Y/n,” Melina calls out to you before you can go too far.

Stepping up to you, Melina carefully examines you before adjusting the strap of your dress on your shoulder slightly.

“Do try to direct Natasha to a less visible area the next time you two decide to ‘talk’,” she advises with a raised brow.

A flush spreads across your face in realization, and you quickly place your hand atop the area she adjusted, before giving a reprimanding look to Natasha, who looks away, barely concealing the satisfied grin playing on her lips.

You offer a quick, polite thanks before swiftly making your exit, eager to leave the embarrassing situation behind.

Turning back to her daughter, Melina meets her gaze with a raised brow.

“I guess it’s safe to say that your relationship with Y/n is still going well?” 

Natasha smiles softly at her observation, her eyes still following you as you go to join the others.

“Yeah, it is,” she replies honestly.

“That’s good,” Melina comments, handing her a cup before taking a sip of her own. “It’s important to show the other nobles how good the two of you are together so that they can have more confidence in the future with you as the ruler.”

Natasha nods in understanding, taking a sip of her drink in preparation for another lecture from her mother.

“Even if your relationship started as a ruse in the beginning,” her mother adds nonchalantly.

Natasha chokes on her drink in surprise at her mother’s words, coughing lightly as she gives her an incredulous look.

Melina raises a brow at her in challenge, daring her to deny her claim.

Looking away, Natasha glances over to where you are, oblivious to you and her arrangement being revealed at the moment.

As if feeling her eyes on you, you glance up, meeting her eyes and giving her a soft smile. She returns it before returning her focus to her mother.

Knowing there’s no point in trying to convince her mother otherwise, Natasha asks instead, “When did you figure it out?”

“Oh, I’ve had my suspicions since the beginning,” her mother reveals, swirling the contents of her cup in thought as she recalls how the events all started. 

“That morning, Y/n mentioned in passing about her meeting with Lady Maria as a potential partner, so I knew I had to do something to make you act.”

Natasha's brows furrow as she pieces together her mother's words with her own memories. She was right to think it was odd that her mother would suddenly take an interest in her love life, especially with such a ridiculous ultimatum given in such a short time.

“Wait, let me get this straight,” Natasha interjects, holding up her hand as she processes the information. “You're saying the only reason you pressured me to find someone was because you found out about Y/n’s date with Lady Maria?”

Melina nods before offering Natasha a sympathetic pat on her back.

“Let’s be honest, Natasha, you can be quite oblivious when it comes to your feelings for Y/n. I only pushed you to pay more attention to your love life because I didn’t want you to miss your chance with her.”

“No, you said that if I didn’t find someone, you were going to choose someone for me,” Natasha reminds her mother, her tone tinged with frustration.

Melina waves her hand dismissively.

“I was confident that you would come up with something before it ever got to that point, and you did. This charade that the two of you concocted worked out much better in the end, wouldn’t you agree?”

Natasha gapes at her mother, blinking in disbelief. She pinches her brows, feeling a headache forming at her mother’s antics.

“Please, go meddle with someone else's love life,” Natasha pleads, her patience wearing thin.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Natasha,” she says, chuckling, before pressing on, undeterred by her daughter's exasperation. “Now, tell me, have you thought of a plan on how to propose to Y/n yet?” 

Meanwhile, after leaving Natasha with her mother, you join the pair at one side of the ballroom. Stepping in front of the twins with a warm smile, you admire their new formal clothing that you had arranged for them to attend the event. 

“Well, don’t you two look beautiful and dashing?” you compliment, ruffling Pietro’s hair playfully. He swats at your hand lightly with a pout, then tugs at the collar of his shirt.

“I think you and Wanda are just trying to choke me in this,” he comments.

A red mist envelopes his topmost button and undoes it, granting him some relief.

“Better?” Wanda asks, returning her hand to cross her arms at her brother’s exaggerated behavior.

“Yes, I can actually breathe now,” Pietro responds with a teasing smirk, nudging his sister in thanks.

At the corner of your eye, you notice some nobles nearby shooting disapproving glares at your group, their attention mostly focused on Wanda, and then they begin to speak to each other, their voices intentionally loud.

“So disgraceful that they allow such people in here.”

“Did you see her eyes? They say it’s red like a demon.”

Pietro scowls at their words, moving protectively in front of his sister, but you stop him before he could confront them.

Then placing a comforting hand on Wanda’s shoulder, you check up on her. She gives you a reassuring smile, truly unbothered by their harsh words. 

You’re glad to see her adjusting okay to the fact that her powers are now known by others in the kingdom.

Still, you will not stand idly and let them talk about people you care about like that. The twins may not be in a position to say anything, but you can always defend and protect them.

Before you can confront the rude nobles, however, they are suddenly pushed off balance, stumbling to the ground, as the pair of canines rush through their legs towards you.

Their respective owners follow swiftly after them, with the younger princess giving the people a glare and challenging look, causing them to avert their gaze in embarrassment, looking elsewhere.

Yelena turns to your group with a satisfied grin.

“Don’t mind them, Wanda. They’re always judging everyone,” she says.

Kate nods in agreement, adding, “Yeah, intolerant people like them are not worth your time. There’s plenty of people in the kingdom who already know you’re amazing.”

Pietro chuckles and places his hand atop his sister’s head teasingly, remarking, “Careful with the compliments now, we wouldn’t want her getting a big head.”

Wanda rolls her eyes in response, shoving his arm off and commenting pointedly, “Your head is already big enough for the both of us.”

As the four of them continue their playful conversations, your eyes spot a familiar face hovering in the shadows at the edge of the ballroom.

Excusing yourself, you make your way over to the lone captain.

“Not one for parties?” you ask as you step up next to Bucky.

He sighs and shakes his head as he observes the surrounding guests joyfully engaged in celebration.

“It’s been a while since I attended events like these, but then again, I’ve never enjoyed them before anyway,” he admits.

Curious about something that you’ve been wondering about him, you finally ask. 

“Why did you decide to come to this kingdom? You know, after hiding away for so long.”

A silence follows, and just as you think he’s going to leave your question unanswered, he finally responds, nodding toward the distance. 

“To visit a friend.”

You follow Bucky’s gaze and realize he’s looking at Steve, who’s currently in conversation with Clint and Maria.

As if feeling your eyes, Steve glances up toward your direction, giving you two a welcoming smile and waving his hand in invitation.

A small smile forms on Bucky’s face, surprising you, and you find yourself asking curiously, “Then why not just stay? Enjoy life without constantly looking over your shoulder for danger and having to run away.”

He chuckles ruefully, giving you a look of disbelief. 

“I’m the most wanted criminal of the Stark Kingdom. Nowhere is safe for me or for those who help me.” 

“Well, at least consider the option,” you say, nudging him gently and giving him a pointed look. “Because you do have more than one friend here.”

He examines you carefully before giving you a silent, noncommittal nod, and you understand that this will be the most you’ll get from him.

“Y/n!” 

At the call of your name, you turn to see Carol coming towards you. As you turn back around to excuse yourself, you're not surprised to find Bucky has sneaked away.

Carol stops in front of you, the happy smile fading slightly into a serious expression as she examines you critically.

"How are you feeling?" she asks with genuine concern.

The familiarity in her question makes you laugh lightly as you shake your head.

“You and Natasha. Why do you two keep asking me that?”

Carol raises an amused brow at you.

"It's because we both care about you, Y/n," she answers softly before tilting her head in thought. 

"Maybe the fact we both like the same things is why we're always competing with each other," she muses aloud before extending her hand in invitation.

"Speaking of, would you like to join me for one dance before Natasha decides to keep you all to herself?"

You give her a playful warning look, raising your brow at her.

"No extravagant twirling, lifts, or dips?" you ask, knowing her tendencies.

Carol nods in reassurance, answering firmly, "I promise."

As she leads you in a slow dance, keeping an easy pace to avoid tiring you, you seize the moment to ask her something.

“Are you leaving after the coronation tomorrow?”

Carol nods in confirmation.

“That’s the plan,” she responds. “I want to do as much exploring as I can before my own coronation.”

A tiny, sad smile forms on your face at Carol's words. You've honestly missed her since she started her travels. Poking her pointedly, you give her a serious expression.

"Still, you should come visit more often," you tell her. 

Her eyes soften, and she gives you a small nod.

“For you, I will,” she says, a hint of affection slipping into her tone. "If you ever need anything, Y/n, just let me know, and I’ll have my ship practically fly back to you."

Her eyes glance at something behind you before she shrugs, adding with a sigh, “And I guess the same applies to Natasha if she ever needs my help again.”

“How generous,” Natasha remarks dryly, her voice tinged with sarcasm, as she comes to a stop beside you.

Carol gives you a small bow in thanks, her expression teasing as she remarks, “Looks like my time’s up.”

“Natasha,” she greets, giving her an acknowledging nod.

Natasha returns the sentiment, her demeanor cool as she replies, “Carol.”

Carol gives you one last smile, before pressing a chaste kiss on your hand goodbye and whispering sincerely, “Be happy, Y/n.”

As she leaves, you glance at Natasha and notice the small displeased pout on her face.

Unable to resist teasing her, you nudge her gently, remarking, “Jealousy looks cute on you.”

Natasha huffs in disbelief at your statement before offering her hand to you.

“May I have a dance?”

As Natasha leads you in a slow dance, you can’t help but feel nostalgic, leaning your head against her shoulder.

“This feels familiar, doesn’t it?” you ask softly.

Natasha hums in agreement and nods against you, responding, “Last time we danced like this, we decided to be a couple.” 

You chuckle at the memory, reminiscing about how clueless you were back then, never imagining how things would turn out for the two of you.

The soft music creates a serene atmosphere, cocooning you and Natasha in your own world, away from everyone else.

Recalling the details of your original agreement, you meet Natasha’s eyes, a mischievous glint dancing in your gaze.

“You know, according to our deal, our fake relationship is supposed to end after your coronation tomorrow,” you point out.

Natasha raises an intrigued eyebrow, curious about your intentions.

“So, what should we do about that then?” she asks, her tone playful.

You tilt your head, pretending to ponder before flashing her a teasing smirk.

“Didn’t we agree that if anything were to happen between us, it would be the princess who confessed her feelings first?”

Understanding dawns on Natasha’s face, and she grins in agreement, a fond smile playing on her lips. 

“Y/n,” she begins softly, her gaze filled with affection. “From the moment I met you, I knew you were amazing…then I learned that you were really stubborn.” 

You roll your eyes at her teasing, but Natasha just chuckles before continuing. 

“But you're also kind and smart. And truly the strongest person I know.”

She leans in closer, her breath mingling with yours. 

“My heart and my life have always been yours, Y/n.”

You feel warmth spreading through your chest at her confession, and you can’t help but cup her face gently with your hands.

“You’re my best friend,” Natasha continues, her voice barely above a whisper as she covers your hand with hers. “But I would be honored if you are willing to have me as more than that.”

Your heart swells with love, and you nod happily as you respond.

"I want that too, Natasha," you whisper sincerely. “I want to continue to stay by your side and be yours too. Always.”

With those words of promise, Natasha closes the distance between you, her lips meeting yours in a tender kiss.

The sound of cheers and applause surrounds you, but you pay no mind, lost in the moment with Natasha.

You don’t know what the future holds, but you’re not afraid. As long as you’re together, you know you can overcome anything that comes your way.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Epilogue

In another kingdom, far away, inside one of the workshops of the castle, the king’s assistant waits patiently by the doorway for a pause in the king’s pastime of tinkering.

“What’s the matter, Jarvis?” Tony Stark asks without looking up from his careful concentration.

“A letter arrived for you, sir.” 

“Is it about the next shipment of parts?”

“No, sir, this came from a nobleman in the Romanov Kingdom.”

“Oh…you can just toss it in the fire then.”

There’s an awkward silence as his assistant makes no move to do as he asked, causing Tony to glance up in question.

The assistant hesitates before explaining.

“Counselor Potts strongly advised us not to do that anymore, under the warning of severe punishment should she find out. Also, the messenger stressed that the contents pertain to an urgent matter.”

Tony stops and furrows his brow. After the war and the deaths of his whole family, he preferred to keep contact between the kingdoms to a minimum. Just because there’s a peace treaty between them doesn’t mean he has to like or care about anyone there.

On the other hand, facing the wrath of his most trusted advisor for ignoring this letter is not something he wants to deal with in the foreseeable future.

“Just leave it on the table then,” he sighs with a roll of his eyes. 

If anything, it’s probably more news about the coronation of their upcoming queen. He’s already sent his decline to attend the event and a decent enough congratulations present that Pepper picked out.

He doesn’t understand why they can’t just keep the indifferent relationship between the two kingdoms as is instead trying to make them into something closer.

Shaking his head as Jarvis closes the door behind him, Tony attempts to return to his flow of concentration, picking up his tools as he continues to tinker with the parts in front of him. 

Unfortunately, as time passes, his eyes keep glancing at the letter sitting in the corner, something about it gives him some sort of unnerving feeling. 

Slumping with a resigned sigh that he can’t keep his focus anymore, he places his tools down again and swipes at the letter, sitting at the edge of the table.

Opening it, he skims the contents quickly before his posture suddenly straightens with tension, his expression turning serious.

The door of the workshop slams open, and Tony strides out purposefully, calling to his assistant.

“Jarvis!”

They are at his side in an instant, following him and listening for the next orders.

“Tell Vision to prepare the carriages and let Pepper know I’ll be away a bit for some business.”

“Yes, sir. May I ask where you will be traveling to?”

“The Romanov Kingdom,” Tony answers, glancing at the letter in his hand before tightening his fist, crumpling the paper slightly.

“Looks like it’s time to pay this new queen a visit after all.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Series Masterlist : Boundless Devotion

a/n: Thank you to everyone for reading all the way to the end of this series! (especially this long chapter) It's been a journey, and I'm happy that many of you enjoyed it and showed up for every update (all of your comments and reactions are so sweet and fun to read and honestly helped to keep me motivated).

This is the final part of the series, but it's not the end yet. There will be a sequel for Boundless Devotion, and it's called Everlasting Devotion (title mention in prequel Fateful Encounter 🤗).

I’m still in the middle of working on it, so the first chapter is not going to be released right away since I also want to finish some other one shots that I‘ve been working on and maybe take a little break.

That being said, for those currently in the taglist for Boundless Devotion and anyone else who's interested, if you also want to be added in the taglist for when the sequel starts, please let me know. (I prefer to ask again just in case instead of just assuming and forcing you along on another series that you didn't sign up for)

Again, thank you to all of you for reading!

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, @autorasexy, @natsxwife, @mviswidow, @slut4johansson, @automaticdinosaurtaco, @jono723, @mousetheorist, @tofu9162, @natsbiggestfan1, @iheartjohansson, @nothanksbye07, @midastouch013, @dvrkhcld, @red1culous

[iheartmapi]

heyyy,

can you write alexia x reader angst if youre ok with it?

like them having a pretty harsh argument (because of what ever reason, you decide) and saying the meanest things to eachothet. Even though the argument startet soft, it ended with alexia saying stuff like: „the team is even successful without you we dont actually need you!“whilst r is trying to recover from an bad injury or „sometimes you truly are pathetic you know“ or maybe „can you shut tf up!? Is it possible seeing you and not getting annoyed of you for once?!“ or „no wonder you failed/lost/couldnt achieve/dont/ cant do this or that etc.. (the phrases are related to reader’s insecurities) alexia ends up going for a walk but when she returns r already put alexias bed stuff on the Couch and wont let her in the bedroom. After 1-2 days of not talking and ale trying to apologize, r comes up to her ( now even more insecure) happy but fearful ending pls make it as angsty as you possibly can. i hope it’s understood cause english isnt my first language:)

(I’ll try my best!!! Also don’t worry cause you wrote it perfectly and English isn’t my first language either so I get it)

Teddy bear

(Yes I listened to Melanie Martinez’s teddy bear when writing this)

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: Alexia doesn’t always watch her words, and she sure as hell doesn’t during the most intense argument the two of you had ever.

Angst with a happy-ish ending.

TW: slightly toxic, degrading thoughts about one self, crude language,

Word count: 1,925

15:00pm

The hour Alexia returned home after being away with the team for matches, she ran a hand through her blonde hair..Alexia loved her profession but it was still a very tiring one, all she was dreaming of in the moment was a nice warm bath to soothe her sore muscles and a good night’s sleep..

She dragged her feet through the front door and dropped her bags in the foyer and went ahead to the living room.

Upon entering Alexia’s eyes landed on you, you were relaxing on the couch with a random book by some bestseller author which really could be anyone, but you didn’t really care…you didn’t have much to do due to being prescribed to stay home to heal from a recent injury on the pitch. Lately you’ve been apprehensive and often worried all because of your injury and inability to play.

You looked up from your cheap book.

“Hi”

“Hey”

The exchange of words between the two of you was short and awkward, this weird tension appeared in the house and between you two before Alexia’s trip, its genesis wasn’t really clear to her..but she figured it was all a part of your hyper-sensitivity from the injury and would pass quickly anyways.

Alexia passed you and went to the kitchen to fetch herself a drink, she gulped some down, taking in the taste of being back home before returning to the living room, the silence went on, but you weren’t focused on your book anymore, though you pretended to be, secretly you were eyeing her every move, from when she walked into the living room to now as she was standing by the window looking outside.

You gulped, “Alexia?”

“Yeah?”

“Listen I-“ you rethought that “We…have something to talk about” the knots in your stomach were multiplying from stress each minute, Alexia was looking at you, the intensity of her gaze wasn’t helping you out.

“It’s about this specific..behaviour of yours” You started “I think you’re- um..I…” What were you supposed to say? You rehearsed this so many times before she came back yet now you felt as if you were on fire and your memory was gone. “I think sometimes you’re too touchy with others” you finally choked it out.

Alexia looked at you with an almost judging look “As in?” She stated sharply, “I mean like..we’re girlfriends you know? And I don’t want to forbid you from hugging others and stuff but sometimes you act so..intensely affectionate, like with Ona-“ Alexia immediately butted in “Are you being serious right now?” She belted at you “For fucks sake Y/n…you think I’m cheating on you with the whole team just because I hug them or something?” You feared this exact reaction from her “I didn’t say that…” You murmured “You kind of did though, I just got back and this is the greeting I get? Can’t you ever knock it down a notch?” She started ranting “You’re so melodramatic, as always” she scoffed.

“I’m not being melodramatic” you said, you felt weak against Alexia but you couldn’t just let her walk over you like this in this argument. “So it’s wrong of me to be afraid of my own damn girlfriend being so touchy with everyone?” You protested “It’s always like this, I’m the bad guy and you’re the victim”

Alexia took a deep breath, you swear you could detect the anger forming inside her pupils, then she opened her mouth, and yelled at you.

“Can you shut the fuck up?! Is it possible, seeing you and not getting annoyed of you for once?!” She scowled, you opened your mouth wanting to protect yourself, or calm her down, just say anything, but hell…it’s like every word ran away from you.

“See? You can’t even form a sentence, cause you know that you’re spitting straight bullshit” Alexia rolled her eyes “Sometimes you truly are pathetic you know”

Wow. Your eyes widened and you closed your mouth, not believing the clear poison coming out of your girlfriend’s lips. “I wanted you to get over this whole injury thing, wanted to try and make you happy, but you can’t do anything besides being stingy all the time. But you know what?” She waited a minute before adding “You’re stingy even without the goddamn injury, the team is successful, even without you! I hope you know we don’t actually need you?!” tears prickled at your eyes, begging to be let out, you couldn’t handle it, and they started running down your cheeks.

“Here you go now! Crying like a fucking baby, I’m not putting up with you right now” she barked before turning from you and heading out of the living room.

You sat still in your place like you were frozen, and truly you were, by the coldness Alexia just showed you, you heard her yelling “I’m going for a walk!” Before the front door swung shut. And then it came, you started crying, the tears marching down your cheeks and reaching your neck like a furious army, maybe she was right? She always was wasn’t she? Now you regretted ever mentioning that, but you acted stupid and brought up something that didn’t matter at all, now here you were, crying all alone like a big baby.

You stood up, your legs were shaking, in fact every inch of your body was, you stumbled towards the bedroom, feeling stupid but also cheated, the closet doors opened hastily and your shaky hands reached for every piece that belonged to Alexia, you took her bags from the foyer and threw everything inside…were you in an irrational state of mind? Yeah, probably…

Now everything of hers was in the bag, you glanced at the nightstand, seeing the framed picture of you two, kissing, but you couldn’t stand to see that happy memory right now. The frame was put down so that the photo couldn’t be seen by you and then you took the bags and simply threw them onto the couch, leaving them there for Alexia to see when she gets back. Now you didn’t really know what to do with yourself, finally you slumped on the bed like a picture of misery, left alone with your thoughts only.

Alexia knew she couldn’t stay outside all day even though you irritated her to the core, she just couldn’t understand why you were being so irrational…always acting so difficult, she thought to herself, she stomped down the street, already seeing the peak of the neighbourhood the two of you lived in, dreading seeing you again.

It was kinda weird, she started thinking about it deeply, she loved you, but at the same time you were such a big pain in the ass literally everyday..if only you wanted to cooperate and listen to her more most of your arguments wouldn’t even happen in the first place, you should know that she wasn’t your property, instead of being so damn jealous and giving her your attitude.

The house keys clicked in place and turned the locks to your home, though the home was literally a quiet battlefield lately. She sighed as her feet made contact with the familiar flooring. It was quiet, you were probably sulking in some corner and just didn’t want to greet her or make up for your stupid behaviour, always acting like a child afterwards such moments in your relationship.

The shock she felt when she entered the living room and was met with the sight of her bags atop the couch was immense. For a moment Alexia just started at them in disbelief before rage filled her again, she sauntered over to the bags observing them resentfully, where the hell were you? Cause she wasn’t going to let this go.

Kitchen, bathroom, small storage, balcony, backyard, nowhere. You were nowhere, but there was one place she hadn’t checked, the bedroom. There was no fucking way you just packed her bags and left the house, so you had to be there…

Firmly, her hand grasped the handle of the door, expecting to see you inside, acting like a saint..but the moment she turned it, it didn’t open, it was locked. So you were inside! Alexia angrily turned the handle a couple times more before knocking on the door. “Y/n?” She stated loudly, her tone was very passive aggressive, no answer. Then she just went ballistic and pounded on the door “Y/n! Let me in, god damn it!” Alexia didn’t stop until she heard your much quieter and shaky voice calling to her beyond the door. “I-I’m not letting you in Alexia!” You stated, “What?!” Her brows furrowed before she groaned in fury “This relationship is a fucking joke!” And then she stormed off.

You curled on the bed, thinking about what you’ve done, was this the correct way of handling things? Hell, you wished you knew, but nothing made sense to you now.

Two days, that’s how much time has passed since that ugly argument of yours, you eventually unlocked the bedroom and went out to see Alexia’s face filled with annoyance but she tried to talk to you once she saw you, weirdly calm for the emotions that were pulsating inside her, and in fact, she was the one trying to calm things down between you two, but you felt dumb and were too much of a coward to just accept it, the tension in the ENTIRE house was poisoning…and when you didn’t budge with Alexia’s apologies you two just stopped talking to each other

The insecure thoughts took root in your brain, eventually branching into a full tree with anxious and insecure fruits hanging from its twigs. After all, Alexia was always right about you.

The whole week couldn’t just go on like this. You took the tiny pieces of courage left in you and took them to use them to apologise to her, you kinda treated her like shit..and all for nothing, you did hug your teammates too after all…teammates, friends, family, people just have different ways of showing it.

On the morning of what was supposed to be the third day you finally spoke to Alexia

“Ale…I- I’m just so fucking sorry, okay? That was so stupid of me, I dunno..I guess it was in the heat of the moment- the thing is I love you, I don’t want to lose you. I was an idiot, if you don’t want to then fine, don’t accept this shitty apology but I’m begging you..” by the end of your apology tears were streaming down your cheeks again, as lately you have been crying often when Alexia had no way of seeing you.

You could see the gears turning in her head, trying to decide whether she was going to accept or refuse, she narrowed her eyes at you “Yeah, you were an idiot” then she added “But I guess I’m glad you can see that now, listen I just…” the blonde sighed “Please stop pulling shit like that, sometimes you really are too sensitive” she reprimanded you softly, it felt weird listening to this harsh “truth” about yourself, even weirder knowing that those air quotes weren’t needed because it was the most pristine truth. Then Alexia looked at you with an unsure manner, “I love you too, ok?” She then said, and you nodded, after that she turned to steal a glance at the morning sky.

You sighed to yourself, appreciating the so long awaited moment of calmness.

You should remember to listen to her at all times, even if it hurt slightly.

[doctorbeth]

Muttsys

Have you ever seen muttsy dogs? I may have talked about some here. Most are a tannish color, about 15" long, with faux suede pawpads. They look like they're reaching their arms up to be hugged when they are young. They're never really plump... they're a skinnier breed. Well, today I thought I'd tell you the story of a Muttsy dog from Canada, with a bonus at the end of a giant Muttsy (the biggest I've seen at least) who went home last week.

First up, Joey the Muttsy from Canada. He was a pretty typical muttsy in size and shape, though no animal is typical in memory or history, and Joey was no exception there. Every animal holds the memories and stories of their person or people.

Here are Joey's diagnosis photos:

As you can see, he had some significant balding on his back and pawpads, a bit of balding in front, and quite a bit of weight loss from stuffing compression due to age and hugs. His person is one of you dear readers, and she was starting to worry about him.

Now given the localization of his balding, some people opt for fur transplants just on bald spots. But Joey's person felt, after 35 years, he deserved a full spa and a full new coat of fur, to make him sturdy and clean and plump and fluffy again. So that was the plan. We scheduled an appointment and he flew down from Canada.

The first step was the spa, so he of course had a bubble bath photo:

I think he kind of looks like he's doing a doggie paddle here. :-)

Once he was dry, it was time to choose his new fur. I wait till after the spa so you can see the fur in comparison to his own fur in a clean and as fluffy as possible condition. There were a couple of options:

His human opted for the slightly darker fur. I went ahead and started restuffing and recovering him. Of course he got a heart preserving a bit of his original stuffing. I like to think the hearts help them hold all the memories:

Now as I mentioned, Muttsy style dogs usually have a faux suede or faux leather (or sometimes real leather) footpad. Joey's surviving footpads showed they weren't real leather original, so these were the options for the soles of Joey's feet:

His person went for the faux suede. Here he is, all better and once more reaching out his arms for hugs:

Joey flew home to Canada, and his person wrote:

He just got home! Looks fantastic, thank you so much for your careful work!

But I did promise a bonus at the end of Joey's story. The largest Muttsy I've ever seen in the hospital.:-) This Muttsy is named Mutsie, and she is 28 inches long, 38" including her tail, which is also stuffed!

You can see her here next to her warm blooded sibling, which gives you an idea of both her size, and the compression of her stuffing and flattening of her fur which were concerning her person:

She was in pretty good shape otherwise, so her person was looking for a spa for her. Here she is starting her bubble bath:

Of course she got a heart with some original stuffing when she got restuffed:

And here she is getting her chubbiness approved: clean, stuffed, fur fluffed but with an open seam to adjust as needed:

Her person said:

Yes she looks perfect! It's so nice to see her all cleaned up and refreshed, thank you so much!

So I closed her up and she flew home to Arizona (in a much bigger box than she arrived in, because she was so much plumper and fluffier!).

[soufflegirl]

I love Roy Mustang, because usually the "charming and morally ambiguous™" guy of the situation is that detached, cold, emotionally unavailable character who only shows his emotions in extreme circumstances. And then there is Roy, who is this pathetic moron who constantly picks fights with his 15-year-old employee and is useless on rainy days because his alchemy ,, does not work. And he is also this character who loves so fiercely that his affection for his loved ones is his greatest strength and also his greatest weakness. Roy does not want to rise to power because he desires power itself, but his ambition is dictated purely by a desire to establish a system in which people can protect each other so that he can in turn protect the people he loves.

The villains' way of neutralizing Roy the moment he becomes inconvenient is to dismember his team and place his subordinates in the four corners of the country and take his lieutenant hostage. What keeps Roy sane after Ishval are his friends - and also his plans, but mostly his friends. And when he collapses in Lab 3 after the fight with Lust, his first thought is to make sure Riza is all right and then send help for Havoc. When he re-emerges from the Gate and is blind, his first thought is to ask Riza how her injuries are. When he has a chance to recover his sight, he decides to do so only after Havoc is healed. Roy is absolutely destroyed by his best friend's death and he's consumed by the desire of revenge, and yet what stops him from crossing the line is the idea of losing the other person he loves the most.

Roy is an extremely complex character, a flawed man who has committed unspeakable horrors and unforgivable monstrous deeds and has paid dearly for his naiveté and idealism, yet that desire to protect people that drove him to enlist in the first place has never gone away and that's what keeps him moving forward. In Ishval he betrayed all his ideals, he betrayed himself, he betrayed Riza and the memory of his teacher and the very concept of alchemy in which he believed, but that part of him that wanted to protect people did not die. And when he comes back to East City and decides to start climbing the ranks, he hides his ambitions from his superiors basically by continuing to be the idiot and lazy and womanizer colonel who hates paperwork and dicks around in the office. And everyone falls for it, and meanwhile he quietly manages to become a freaking colonel at 29 !! I love this pathetic jerk so, so much.

[theladybrownstarot]

I need your prayers and blessings people: My grandmother has 6 months to live , I don't know what to do but I belive in prayers ,blessing and Intentions. If your prayers helped her recovering kidney then please help me again .

The whole story :

Today , I visited my grandmother in hospital with my father , she was in icu . I saw her after 6 days of hospitalisation. She cried seeing me instantly saying, " oh my dear " repeatedly then " There's no one except you who can understand me".I calmed her down and what she said further left me quite confused - " my son didn't come to meet once dear" cryingly. My father for days with my paternal uncle met her thrice times a day. I explained that at times when the assigned doctors are not available then we are unable to Meet you . Later my father called me and then he went inside ,stayed for 10 -15 mins.

When he came out I could see him hiding something in his laughs that wanted me to get a reassurance that she is fine Later he revealed that her memory is fading away. He told that my grandmother scolded him by saying, " I'm not a fool because I know everything , You used to sit with an another lady calling her mother and fed her for days and not me" . This got me shocked but later blank when he said that she has 6 months to live and not more than that .

I would request you if could pray her for her as a Prayer is more stronger than any power in this world. Whatever will happen shall be in the hand of divine .

[cantareincminor]

My SxF Writing

When I first got into Spy x Family I had no idea I would write so many fics for it! Keeping track of it has gotten a bit unwieldy so here is a masterlist.

Completed Works

Orpheus: 350K words, mole hunt arc canon divergence fic where Yuri is critically injured in the sewers, leading to catastrophic consequences for Twilight. The fic I'm proudest of, and the most personally meaningful.

From Ostania with Love: Orpheus universe, comedy fic where years later, Twilight and Yor watch a Hollywood movie about themselves.

In the Sunlight: Orpheus universe, one-shot where Twilight and Yor recover their intimacy after the traumatic events near the end of Orpheus.

Form: My first fic in the SxF fandom! An identity reveal one-shot on how Twilight and Yor view each other before and after their truths come to light.

Tummy Troubles: Crack fic where Twilight embarrasses himself in the worst way in front of his cover family, only to find he is loved and accepted regardless.

Every Stitch a Memory: One-shot where Loid intends to donate Anya's old clothes, unintentionally evoking sad memories for Yor and bringing her conflicted feelings about her "fake" husband to the surface.

Air: AU one-shot (for now?) where Twilight and Thorn Princess meet on the job.

WIPs

Yesterday's Enemy is Today's Girlfriend: Orpheus universe, Franky/Chloe fic where the former informant and SSS agent get to know each other and settle in Westalis.

The Magical and the Mundane: Orpheus universe, TwiYor pregnancy fic told from Yor's POV.

Forever Family: Serious and somewhat dark fic about Anya's previous adoptive families and orphanages.

What Friends are For: Crack fic where Twilight begrudgingly helps Franky learn how to date by disguising himself as an attractive woman.

Discarded Snippets

Orpheus original opening scene

Orpheus Ch. 14: Twilight and Sylvia conversation

Orpheus Ch. 20: Twilight picks up Anya and Yor

Orpheus Ch. 29: Happier chapter ending

Fanart

Orpheus Ch. 3: Ghosts by @hazardous-lightdas12

Orpheus Ch. 4: Twilight hugs Bond by @aerequets

Yesterday's Enemy is Today's Girlfriend Ch. 15: Franky's mother by @juuyeah

What Friends are For: Gisela by @hazardous-lightdas12

[lonepower]

ok you know what i need more bodysharing/brain roommates. malevolent got me feeling some kind of way and I need MORE. tvtropes has like 15 different categories that are all sort-of-but-not-really under the umbrella of what I'm looking for, and sorting through all of that is a little too unwieldy, so I'm turning to you guys. 

key factors of the specific flavor of "multiple consciousnesses stuck in the same meat suit" that I'm looking for are:

any variation of, a human (or this universe's equivalent [so like, an elf where elves are commonplace would count]) has another, nonhuman consciousness attached to them and only them in such a way that the two can communicate, and subsequently

they Banter Constantly

^that^ is probably the most important qualifier here tbh

second most important qualifier is that they are not separated at the end (this obv. doesn't apply if the thing is still ongoing). it's okay if the passenger gets a new body (cf. subnautica) or is freed from their binding (cf. baldur's gate), as long as the partnership isn't broken.

Related: they don't actually have to SHARE a body (so enchanted objects, an AI implant, a Mysterious Disembodied Voice, an imaginary friend, etc., also count). they just have to be tethered to each other such that the passenger cannot move around or function on their own without a host. (I think this is part of why it's hard to narrow down on tvtropes: it's more about the dynamic than about the specific mechanism of "possession".)

Third most important qualifier is that only the current host can hear/communicate with the passenger, even if other people around them are aware of the passenger's existence.

two humans stuck in the same body is okay as long as the other criteria are met, but I would prefer it if the host is human(/equivalent) and the passenger is not (or vice versa if the passenger/possessor is the one with control of the body, as with things like the yeerks, most demonic possession, etc).

it doesn't have to be romantic. they don't even have to like each other. conversely, it absolutely can be romantic too.

They DO have to be the POV character/s for a significant majority (like, at least 60-75%) of the work, because the internal back-and-forth is the entire point.

Bonus points if: they do actually share a body; they are either never physically separated either, or are rejoined at the end (voluntarily or otherwise); passenger has lots of setting-relevant knowledge/an alien or fantastical perspective, while host shows passenger what it's like to be Alive™; despite constantly butting heads, host and passenger work patently better as a team; super extra bonus points for all of the above 

My favorite examples of what I am looking for:

Malevolent podcast (super extra bonus points x10000000000000000)

Venom movies (this is probably the codifier for most people here tbh) (super extra bonus points)

Subnautica: Below Zero (AL-AN gets their own body but stays with Robin, and it hits all of the others)

Forspoken (super extra bonus points)

the "a bagel. two bagels." vine

(I know there's a couple others that I'm just blanking on. If I remember them, I'll add them.)

other things that have moments or flavors of this, but aren't focused on it/don't quite hit all of them:

the Bartimaeus trilogy had it at the end a little, but, well. it didn't last very long. (i STILL haven't recovered from that ending and i was, what? 15 or something? g o d)

the emperor in bg3 kiiiinda counts since they're magically bound to the player/party and can't exist outside their prison, but they do have their own body and are not nearly as chatty as I'm  looking for. also, while only the holders of the prism can hear them, All of the holders of the prism can hear them and I'd really prefer one-on-one.

I think Death Note would also count? I read it in like 6th grade and never finished it so my memory is patchy At Best, but since nobody else can interact with Ryuk, he's bound to whoever holds the notebook, and he's the supplier of the holder's powers, it's close enough that I would accept something similar.

Slay the Princess has the bickering in spades and fulfills the "do not separate" criterion depending on your ending, although the jury's out on whether the voices are Actually their own entities or just symptoms of you losing it. Also, nobody in it is human. The bickering is definitely good enough to make up for it though. (The fact that it's Jonny Sims clearly having a grand old time might have something to do with it...)

with the caveat that I have not watched any of it, i think jadzia (and?) dax from ds9 miiight count, but they're part of an ensemble cast and thus fail the "pov characters for a majority of the work" and "we get to hear their constant internal banter" criteria.

things I tried that fit at least some criteria, but didn't like for various reasons:

the good demon by jimmy cajoleas. promising concept, but 1) the protagonist smokes, which is an instant and unnegotiable dealbreaker (seriously, who makes their protagonist do that in The Year Of Our Lord Anything Later Than 1950?? and to a child? DEATH. ONE MILLION YEARS DUNGEON.), and 2) I looked it up and they separate at the end anyways, so there's even LESS of a point. 

the venom comics. honestly I just... really dislike superhero comics, there's always way too many of them to keep track of + I'm very shallow and they're usually unbearably ugly to me (and also having started with the movies I just found comics!eddie really unpleasant tbh) 

parasyte manga. perfect concept, great dynamic, but its particular brand of body horror was... not great for me and I had to put it down. (horror in and of itself isn't a dealbreaker, though, so if you've got something similar that doesn't involve lots of hands bent at nauseating angles, I'll gladly take it.)

Cyberpunk 77 has the two-humans flavor of this and hits almost all of the other criteria, but i viscerally hated literally everything about j*hnny s*lverhand with every fiber of my being and the rest of the game was so mediocre already that i just gave up

....I know it's a highly specific/potentially niche dynamic, but if anyone has any recs, PUHLEEASE hmu!!! I'm looking for original work rather than fanfiction, but apart from that, format doesn't matter at all (although if it's some like super difficult indie game or something, I probably won't get very far lol). the MAIN points are 1) bickering and 2) host-and-passenger, so if you have something that hits those but not the others, feel free to share it anyway!

[especiallyqhere]

JOJO GOLDEN ARROW AU | Ages & Stand Ailments

TW: BLOOD & BODY HORROR

Bruno Bucciarati

Age: 24

Ailment(s): Bruno has a body ailment - Zipper marks on his skin when he uses Sticky Fingers on himself - Makes it very easy to attract attention by folk and enemy stands. Zipping on skin can lead to... Unfortunate bleeding...

Leone Abbacchio

Age: 25

Ailment(s): Abbacchio has a Mind and Body ailment - When Abbacchio rewinds time, he gets a tally mark on his skin (like a tattoo) for every minute he rewinds - So far, he has his entire left shoulder to wrist covered in tally marks with a few on his right arm already. If Moody Blues is used for more than 24 hours at a time, this can cause some memory loss...

Narancia Ghirga

Age: 21

Ailment(s): Narancia has both a Mind and Body ailment - If he uses Aerosmith for too long he can get severely painful migraines. When his stand lands, it makes tire marks on his arms and shoulders...

Guido Mista

Age: 23

Ailment(s): Mista has an Internal only ailment - He can get very ill if he hits himself with SexPistols and can have an insane hunger when he wakes up (The poor fridge)...

Pannacotta Fugo

Age: 20

Ailment(s): Fugo also has an Internal ailment - Emotions from Purple Haze can reflect on Fugo the more he uses it (frothing at the mouth/jaw + teeth/immense anger). It can be quite damaging internally to the point he coughs up blood…

Giorno Giovanna

Age: 18 (17 at the start of the AU)

Ailment(s): Giorno has a body ailment at the start of the AU- If he heals a certain body part of his, it knits the flesh weird. In the instance he heals someone, their injury can transfer onto him (non-lethally and more visual) but this can make Giorno very weak. To recover stand energy, he must drink blood (Discovered later in the AU). During the first chapter of the AU, Giorno is transformed into a Dhampir by a large energy blast caused by the stand arrows losing their powers and being so intrinsically linked to the Joestar Bloodline (DIO). He cannot go outside in the sun for more than an hour but during time in the sun, he feels like he is on fire...

Trish Una

Age: 18

Ailment(s): Trish has an Internal and Body ailment - Using Spice Girl (unknown/does not have at the start of the AU) her body can also become rubber too… Sometimes she needs to revert that quickly to avoid her heart from becoming rubber too...

FYI: They're all aged up to match the artstyle of the anime. They ain't 15 years old in this AU that's for sure😭(Don't worry guys I'm not gonna write or draw anything sus either!!!)

If you're interested in my AU, please click here to view my other AU works!

[somehow-a-human]

Whose POV is it Anyway?

The End?

DO NOT ASK NEIL ABOUT FAN THEORY

We're here. We did it. We made it to the final episode. I'm so proud of us.

For reference & context, I recommend reading these posts:

Whose POV is it Anyway? - Introduction

POV "Your 'Something's Wrong' Voice"

POV a Trip to Hell and a 25 Lazarii Miracle

POV a Companion to Owls

POV The Dirty Donkey & I think I Found a *Clue*!

POV Bodysnatchers & Cosplaying a bookseller

POV 1941

POV The Ball

Lens Filters

Lets fuckin go baybee.

Up until the demons are accidentally allowed into the bookshop, the filter is clearly still the warm and hazy Bronze Glimmerglass of Aziraphale's POV. This is clearly visible after the demons enter and Aziraphale activates the portal. When viewing the top down shots, Aziraphale/Maggie/Nina's side is warm and golden toned, and the demons side is cold and green.

As the bookshop battle commences the lighting gets cooler and cooler toned as the demons move farther into the bookshop. The lighting is still warm around Aziraphale when he removes his halo, but once it's blown up, we've instantly lost the warm glow and everything is now cool and dark toned.

Throughout Crowley's entire stint in heaven with Muriel, the lighting is cool and bright, and Crowley's sideburns are long. I'm going to give this an inconclusive POV.

When Crowley comes back to the bookshop with the archangels the lighting is still cooler, I would say its most similar to the Black Diffusion FX (BDFX) filter, however there is a fair bit of haziness so it may also be the Black Pro Mist (BPM) filter, and his sideburns are still long.

Gabriel then recovers his memories. And I think this next bit is key when we think of the filters.

The first memory we see is the Tadfield aribase. I did go back and compare this scene to season 1 and it is a fair bit more saturated and warmer toned than it was graded in season 1. I would say that's because Gabriel is now remembering this memory through his lens of how he now views Beelzebub.

The Russian Cafe memory is next, and the scene is very green toned, dark and cool. It reminds me clearly of the Black Pro Mist filter often used for Hell.

The American Bar memory is not nearly as dark, but still a bit cool toned and saturated. I'd say this one uses the Black Diffusion FX filter.

The Resurrectionist Pub is warm, golden, and hazy with fuzzy halos around the lights & I believe we're seeing it through the Bronze Glimmerglass filter.

3 stages of their relationship. Strangers at odds, then cautiously on the same page, then optimistically absorbed in their love for one another.

We return to present day scenes in the bookshop and these are all cool toned, and I would say in the BDFX filter.

... and I'm pretty sure the filter doesn't change the entire rest of the episode. The debate about Gabriel and Beelzebub, the conversation with the Metatron, the final 15. It stays the same, and Crowley's sideburns remain long. And I'm also going to give it an inconclusive POV label. We've reached some sort of equilibrium?

Don't worry, I'm ending this post here, but I'm following it up with my conclusion, and you don't even have to wait to read it! There's too much to summarize my feelings after writing these analysis at the end of this one post, it deserves it's own thing!

NEXT Whose POV is it Anyway - a Conclusion

[just-aake]

Boundless Devotion - Part XIII

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.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Warnings: angst, violence, blood, hurt/comfort, abuse, panic attack

Words: 7627

The clash of swords echoes in the corridor of the dungeons, accompanied by occasional grunts and thuds of fallen combatants.

After several minutes of seemingly never-ending waves of assailants, Natasha is growing more and more frustrated.

Her current attacker lunges at her with a swing, but she smoothly parries the weapon out of their hand, countering with a swift and hard kick to their midsection, causing them to crumble to the ground.

After defeating some already, Natasha quickly recognized who they were. 

Dreykov’s soldiers 

The person she just defeated was the same one who had refused her access to see you earlier at the gates of your manor. 

At the thought of you, her eyes glance over worriedly to the wall where you had disappeared behind. 

When she recovered from being knocked back and realized that the man had you in his grip, she rushed to you, but the trap door closed before she could reach you, slamming shut in her face. 

Before she could even attempt to find the switch, the sound of the door breaking from above, followed by several rushing footsteps, propelled her into this current fight.

“Natasha!”

Clint’s warning abruptly pulls her from the memory just in time to dodge a swing from another attacker. 

They suddenly cry out in pain when an arrow pierces their shoulder from behind, and with a quick sweep from Natasha, they fall to the ground.

Another person falls unconscious nearby, and Natasha directs her attention to the other person helping in the fight.

The old Stark captain now stands free from his restraints after insisting to her that he could help.

Bucky notices her glare and then glances towards where you were taken before returning his attention to her.

“I’m sure she’s okay,” he tries to reassure her.

But his comment just makes her clench her teeth in anger, seeing how he’s part of the reason you decided to come here in the first place.

Now she’s separated from you and uncertain of your current condition. 

Natasha turns away from him, directing her anger to the rest of the attackers in the room instead. 

“This is going on for too long,” she determines, her hand tightening around the hilt of her sword.

In the next moment, the corridor echoes with the impact of bodies hitting the ground one after the other. A web of lightning-fast strikes incapacitates the remaining members of the ambush, leaving them sprawled across the floor, defeated, until only one remains. 

With the final assailant rushing at her, Natasha swiftly evades his attack, grabbing his arm and expertly flipping him over her shoulder before slamming him to the ground with a resounding thud. 

As the dust settles, Natasha stands and sheathes her sword before swiftly moving back over to the wall to search for the trap door switch.

Clint makes a sound of amazement behind her as he steps around all of the unconscious bodies to reach her.

“Glad to see your skills are still as impressive as ever, Your Highness,” Clint compliments as he approaches her.

Natasha doesn’t respond. Instead, she focuses intently on searching the wall, her hand running quickly along the grooves of the cold stones. 

After finally finding a small loose stone, she presses it in, but nothing happens. 

Frowning, Natasha tries again, harder this time. 

Still, nothing moves. 

Frustration rises in her, and she slams her hands against the wall in anger. The sting of pain on her palms does nothing to distract her from her racing thoughts of concern for you.

She needs to figure out how to open this stupid door quickly before anything bad happens to you.

“There should be another switch on the ground that needs to be pressed at the same time,” Bucky’s voice calls from behind.

Natasha turns her head slightly to him before quickly refocusing her attention on the stone floor. Her foot sweeps along the surface until a loose stone caves slightly under her pressure.

Looking up, Natasha narrows her eyes at Bucky in suspicion. 

“How did you know?”

Next to her, Clint raises his bow, pointing an arrow at the old captain, waiting for his response.

Bucky raises his hand in innocence before shaking his head lightly in confusion, appearing slightly unsure himself. 

"I don't know. It’s…just that I’ve seen this before, I think," he replies, grimacing before giving her a genuine look. “I swear I’m not trying to trick you.”

Natasha shoots him one last suspicious look before gesturing to Clint to stand down. She then returns her focus to the trap door — getting you back safely is her priority before worrying about anything else.

With one foot on the stone on the floor and a hand on the one on the wall, Natasha presses both of the switches simultaneously.

A distinct clicking sound echoes as the wall begins to turn.

Rushing through the opening, Natasha enters the dimly lit space, calling your name.

“Y/n?!”

Immediately, Natasha notices the subtle change in the room's pressure when she takes a breath. Something in the air feels heavy, and a light wave of dizziness seems to cloud her thoughts for a brief moment. 

Shaking off the feeling, Natasha concentrates on searching her surroundings and finally spots you standing at the far wall.

She immediately moves to run towards you.

“Stay away from me!”

At your shout, Natasha slides to a sudden stop, hearing the fear in your voice.

As she processes your words and realizes that it was indeed directed toward her, she feels her heart tighten painfully in her chest. 

Then she watches as you step back and press yourself further against the wall behind you as if you’re trying to be as far from her as possible, and her heart breaks even more.

“Just…stay away…,” you plead, your voice comes out in a shaky whisper.

Recognizing your panicked expression—the same one as your panic attack at the cemetery— Natasha quickly brushes off her feelings of hurt and composes herself so that she can concentrate on helping you.

She takes a moment to examine you for any injuries before her eyes drift down to the ground where two bodies lay nearby. 

Seeing their identities and conditions, understanding fills her mind as she returns her attention to you, meeting your eyes with a gentle reassuring look.

But you immediately break from her gaze, looking down at your bloodied hands, trembling.

“I-I didn’t…” you say unsurely, your breathing increasing rapidly.

“Y/n, look at me.”

Her words don't seem to reach you since you don’t make any movement, your gaze fixated on your hands as you continue to mumble under your breath.

Natasha’s brow pinch in concern and she tries again, louder this time.

“Y/n!”

Your head snaps up and meet her eyes in shock as if remembering her presence.

“Just…focus on me,” Natasha says gently, making a show of taking a few slow deep breaths.

After a hesitant moment, you begin to copy her, inhaling and exhaling shakily.

Nodding in encouragement, Natasha takes a tiny step towards you. 

Your eyes watch her cautiously, but you don’t tell her to stop this time. 

She takes another step.

Then another.

Again and again.

Until she stands just an arm’s length away from you.

Seeing your fearful expression, Natasha wants nothing more than to wrap you in her arms and comfort you, but she understands that’s not what you need right now. 

Instead, she extends her hand out towards you in invitation. 

You glance at her outstretched hand, patiently hovering between the two of you, and then at your own, trembling at your side.

The sight of the dark red remaining on your palm causes you to instinctively clench your hand in an attempt to hide them. 

Returning your gaze hesitantly to Natasha, you check to see if she has noticed them too, but her expression shows no change from before.

There’s just warmth and trust in her eyes. 

Warmth and trust.

And something more.

You finally recognize that unspoken emotion that fills her gaze now and all the times before – an overwhelming and unwavering boundless devotion towards you.

With that realization, you bring your hand slowly to hover above hers, and with one last glance at her for assurance, you close your eyes and let it fall.

Natasha’s hand closes around yours without hesitation, wrapping it in her warmth.

A moment passes with no movement or sound, even the whisperings of Madam B’s voice seem to disappear from your mind. 

Your eyes snap open when you realize that nothing else happens, and immediately, you rush into her arms.

Natasha wraps her arms around you, enveloping you in her embrace. 

With your head tucked into the crook of her neck, you begin to explain frantically against her skin.

“S-She said she was going to make me do it again. To kill you.”

But your words don't scare her away. 

Her concern is only on one thing at the moment. 

Natasha’s hand moves up to hold your head tightly against her as she releases a breath of relief. 

“You’re okay…thank god, you’re okay,” her lips whisper against your head. 

Natasha feels you still trembling slightly in her arms as you murmur something repeatedly against her skin.

“I don’t want to hurt you…I don’t…”

Hearing this, Natasha tightens her arms around you in response and tilts her head down next to your ear, whispering reassuringly, “I know.” 

She continues confidently, “I told you, Y/n. I know you would never hurt me.”

You shake your head slightly against her, still unsure, but you don’t say anymore, choosing to focus on the comfort of her warmth instead.

After a few minutes of silence, Natasha presses a light kiss on your head to get your attention before telling you gently.

“We need to get out of here. There’s something in the air.”

Raising your head from her in confusion, you concentrate on the atmosphere in the room. 

Only then did you notice the subtle shift in the air, like something pressing down in your mind. You’re sure you didn’t realize this at first due to the shock of Madam B’s unexpected presence. 

At the reminder of the woman, your gaze shifts to the bodies on the ground, lingering on the one whose actions hurt you the most. 

You never had the chance to confront her for betraying you last year. She was already exiled by the time you recovered. 

Looking at her lifeless eyes, you can’t help but feel a pang of sadness even though you know she was only using you.

Madam B. had been a constant presence in your life since you were young, strict and harsh at times, but still, at least she was there, always by your side.

Now she’s gone.

You want to look away from the person she has revealed herself to be and leave with the few good memories of her that you have left, but you find that you can’t bring yourself to move.

Thankfully, you don’t have to. 

With her arms still around you, Natasha maneuvers her position, shielding you from the grim scene, and her concerned gaze silently asks if you are okay.

The sight of her reminds you of what it truly means to be by someone’s side. 

To actually care for someone.

And the bitter truth is Madam B is not one of those kinds of people in your life.

Maybe she never was.

With a small, sad smile, you give Natasha a reassuring nod, allowing her to guide you towards the opening of the trapped door. 

As you move with her, something catches the corner of your eye – a drip from one of the torches on the walls.

Curious, you pull away from Natasha to investigate, her footsteps following close behind.

“Y/n?”

Another drip falls slowly, creating a small puddle on the ground. 

It's unusual; torches typically burn the oil that coats its end. They shouldn't drip like this. 

Taking a breath, you realize that the air around the torch feels significantly heavier too.

Intrigued, you catch the next drop on your hand, examining it carefully – you know you’ve seen this before. 

“Come on, Y/n. Let’s get out of here.” 

Natasha takes your other hand and guides you the remaining distance out of the Red Room as your mind races with realization.

Once in the dungeon corridor, you show Natasha the substance.

“This is your mom’s serum,” you exclaim in disbelief at the existence of the supposedly banned substance.

“What?” Natasha asks in confusion. “How did she get it?”

The memory of Madam B's words emerges in your mind of how you were molded to be her spy, and a sense of shame forms in you.

“It was me,” you reveal sadly, looking down in regret. “Your mom showed me the formula once. Madam B. must have gotten it from me.”

Before you can fall into your feelings of self-blaming guilt, Natasha tilts your chin up to meet her eyes, offering a reassuring grin. 

"All I hear is that my mom showed you the formula before even me," she teases lightly, trying to lighten the mood. She lets out a tiny amused chuckle, “I told you that you’re her favorite.”

You give her an exasperated look and shove her lightly for her teasing during this dire situation.

She catches your hand, keeping you close, her expression turning serious.

“You’re not at fault for any of this,” Natasha states firmly. “Madam B. is the one who used the serum, not you.”

Glancing back to the Red Room, you begin to piece together what Madam B. meant by her new quick method of control.

“If she was dispersing the serum into the air, then breathing this in would bring it directly into a person’s system, making them susceptible effectively in a short amount of time,” you explain to Natasha before your eyes widen in realization. “That’s how she could implement control on many people so quickly.”

Alarm and question fill Natasha’s expression at your words. 

“Which people?”

“Like Oksana,” you explain, recalling another piece of information she mentioned before urgently continuing. 

“Natasha, there are more like her. Madam B. said that some lord came here earlier and took everyone.”

"I know who," Clint interrupts, emerging from the Red Room with documents in hand. 

He hands them to Natasha with a serious look.

"The idiot signed his name and everything."

Natasha skims the contents of the note on the top.

Prepare the rest of the subjects. I’ll use them to take care of the princesses outside. Everybody else is in position at the castle. 

~Lord Rumlow

“Well, it doesn’t get more incriminating than that,” Natasha comments with a roll of her eyes, passing the paper for you to see. 

"That traitorous little…he’s trying to go after you," you exclaim in outrage.

Natasha nods in acknowledgment, connecting together all the new information.

“So, some of the kingdom’s guards are being controlled. And with the security meeting happening soon, they’re now inside the castle, unknowingly waiting to be a part of an ambush on my family.”

You give the note back to Natasha, continuing her train of thought. 

"Except Rumlow must have found out that you snuck out, so he came here to pick up more people to go after you."

“And Yelena,” Natasha adds, frowning slightly.

Clint waves his hands in disbelief. 

"Wait, Yelena’s outside the castle too? Where is she now?"

You give Natasha a knowing look, already guessing the answer without her help.

“Kate’s manor,” you respond. “That’s not going to be hard for anyone to figure out soon.”

Natasha sighs in agreement before straightening confidently, her demeanor shifting to one of determined resolve.

"Okay, then. Clint, you head to the castle to warn Steve and my parents. Also, see if you can find Fanny to help identify the controlled soldiers among our own," Natasha commands.

“Yelena’s dog?” Clint asks incredulously.

Natasha nods. 

“She was able to sense people being controlled before. There was the time with the man in town and then again with Oksana at the festival.”

“And with me,” you add in realization, giving Natasha a confirming glance, amazed at her deduction.

“If you say so,” Clint says, shrugging before nodding at Natasha.

“What about you two?”

“We’ll go get Yelena and regroup with you back at the castle afterward to help.”

Clint grimaces at Natasha’s response. 

“I’d rather you find someplace to hide until this is over, but I know you won’t.”

Natasha smirks, about to respond, when you touch her arm to get her attention. 

From the regretful and determined look on your face, she already knows she won’t like what you’re about to say.

“Natasha, I have to go back for the twins.”

“You can’t,” she denies, her head already shaking vehemently in refusal during the middle of your sentence. 

She gestures to the unconscious people on the ground around her. 

“His guards weren't even afraid to attack me. Who knows what he’ll do to you if you go back.”

“She’s right. Dreykov is most likely a part of this or at least knows about the plans. Going back to your manor now is dangerous,” Clint warns.

“Which is why I can’t just leave them there,” you argue. 

“Then I’ll come with you,” Natasha insists.

You shake your head firmly. 

“There’s not enough time. You need to get to Yelena first.”

Natasha’s expression twists in conflict as she tries to come up with a solution to ensure the safety of everyone she cares for. 

You watch as her brows pinch further in turmoil, and you know that the both of you know the inevitable truth – there's no other option. 

Gently cradling her face in your hand, you lock eyes with her, silently urging her to listen to your next words carefully.

“This is what I was telling you before, Natasha. You can’t choose me this time,” you remind her softly, each syllable heavy with the weight of the decision.

Her features contort with a blend of anguish and realization as the harsh reality sinks in that she can’t always protect you.

“I’ll go with her,” Bucky's voice breaks the tense silence as he steps forward from the entrance of the Red Room.

Natasha whirls around to face him, suspicion evident in her gaze as she responds firmly.

“Absolutely not, you’re not getting anywhere near her.”

Bucky's lips quirk into a wry smile. 

“No offense, Your Highness, but I am not exactly under your command.”

“We could just lock you up again,” Clint interjects. 

Undeterred by the threat, Bucky's gaze remains on her, unwavering as he counters, “Do you really want her to return to him without any backup?” 

Natasha's fists clench in frustration, but you intercede, taking her hand in yours to soothe her rising anger and return her attention to you.

“It’s fine, Natasha. Let him help,” you reassure her, your tone calm yet insistent.

“I don’t trust him,” Natasha says, her voice tinged with apprehension as she leans closer to whisper to you. “He was acting strange earlier.”

You steal a glance at Bucky, recalling Madam B’s cryptic words about how she had dealt with him earlier. With that information, you understand and also share Natasha’s reservations about his current state of mind.

However, these guards must have been sent here for him which suggests that Bucky may be expected back at your manor eventually. At least by keeping him close, you can monitor his actions and be prepared in case anything does happen.

Besides, Madam B. did teach you one final important piece of information before she passed that may be able to help you.

With this confidence, you offer Natasha a reassuring smile.

“I have an idea if something happens,” you assure her. 

Natasha's expression remains hesitant and apprehensive, prompting you to gently clasp her hands together in yours.

Bringing them up, you place a delicate kiss on her fingers before meeting her gaze with pleading eyes.  

“Trust me,” you implore softly.

A flicker of worry crosses Natasha’s face as she looks at your serious expression before she slumps with a resigned, heavy sigh.  

“Okay, okay,” Natasha relents reluctantly. “I trust you.”

Resting her forehead against yours, she gives you a determined look.

“But after I get Yelena, I’m coming for you right after,” she declares firmly. 

Brushing her nose gently against yours, she whispers the next words against your lips in a promise, “And afterward, we’re finishing that conversation between us, without any more interruptions.”

A small smile forms on your face as you gaze into her eyes and see the unwavering certainty of her words.

“Okay,” you breathe out. “It’s a promise.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The hurried ride back to your manor was spent in relative silence with only the patter of rain and the rhythmic beat of hooves to accompany your journey.

It is only when the two of you arrive at the gates of your manor does Bucky speak.

“How are you holding up?” he asks as the two of you dismount your horses.

You give him a questioning look, prompting him to clarify.

“It’s not every day one finds out that she is a missing royal.”

Irritation rises in you when you realize he was bringing up the topic that you wanted to ignore.

Dealing with being kidnapped as a baby and a lying, false father aside, you honestly have no desire to involve yourself with any of the specifics of your real identity.

“There’s nothing to discuss,” you state plainly in an attempt to end this topic quickly. “Dreykov will get what he deserves for what he did but after that, I have no desire to reclaim any title.”

Bucky regards you with an unreadable expression before remarking calmly, “Nonetheless, it’s still a part of your birthright that he took you from. Whether you like it or not, you are a Stark royal by blood.” 

He pauses and then adds with a grim look, “You don’t belong here.”

His last words make your hands clench into fists as you grasp the implications.

However, accepting the reality of being a Stark, being the rival of the Romanov kingdom and the past enemy of Natasha’s family – that is not a role that you want.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” you declare resolutely.

There’s a beat of silence before Bucky responds.

“As you wish.”

His formal response makes you frown in annoyance, and you turn to him with your arms crossed.

“Are you just saying that because of who I am or because you want to?” you ask accusingly.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about the subject anymore,” Bucky says, giving you a pointed look.

You let out a small frustrated sound at his deflection by throwing your words back to you.

“Listen, I know you’ve served the Starks all your life, but like I said, I am not your princess that you need to obey,” you assert firmly. 

He observes your serious expression for a moment, as if in thought, before giving you an acknowledging nod.

Seeing that you won’t get another response, you refocus your attention on your manor. 

It looks different than ever before, devoid of staff and now most of the guards. The once homey space appears haunted as the two of you enter through the gates.

Bucky walks ahead of you, searching the area for any potential threats. 

“We’re looking for that boy from before, right? The one that defended you,” he asks over his shoulder.

You hum in acknowledgment, adding, “And his sister.”

After checking that the entrance is clear, Bucky moves to open the door.

“Wait just a moment,” you stop him, getting his attention as he turns to look at you in question.

“Before we go in, there is one thing I need to ask of you.”

He stares at you intently in silence, waiting for you to continue. 

You don’t know what lies beyond this door, but one thing is for certain. 

“If it ever comes down to a choice between me or either of them, I need you to help them first,” you tell him, your tone serious.

His eyes scrutinize you, contemplating his response before asking plainly.

“Is this an order?”

“A request,” you state firmly, giving him a slight glare. “Those two are innocent, just caught up in the middle of my problems. That’s why, no matter what happens to me, they come first.”

You wait as Bucky stares at you in silence, his expression unreadable. Eventually, he gives you a nod as if coming to a conclusion.

“Understood. Then you have my word.”

His formality causes you to grimace in displeasure.

“Your word as the previous captain of Starks?” you ask bitterly.

“As a friend, Lady Y/n,” he corrects gently, his tone a touch warmer and more genuine than before.

You blink in surprise before giving him a slight nod.

“Thank you…Bucky.”

As you two step into the manor, an eerie and unnerving silence greets you. 

Undeterred by the ominous atmosphere, you take the lead, swiftly moving through the halls towards your room.

You hope that Pietro and Wanda are safe and waiting for you there, and perhaps, Wanda has regained enough strength by now to move. 

Peeking around one corner, you feel a wave of relief when you spot the familiar shade of dark brown hair. 

Wanda tiptoes down the hallway, with her back to you, her movements purposeful and stealthy. She checks each room of the manor with care, gently opening doors and peeking inside before continuing on her search.

Emerging from the corner, you begin to approach her.

However, at the sound of your footsteps, Wanda whirls around in alertness. 

For a moment, you catch a flash of red in her eyes before they quickly return to their normal color once she realizes it is you.

“You’re back!” Wanda exclaims in a hushed tone, her posture relaxing as she closes the distance between you.

Fussing over her, you gently hold her face in your hands as you examine her.

“Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“Better,” she responds honestly, gently stopping your fussing by holding onto your wrists.

You nod and release her face, instead grasping her hands for assurance of her safe condition.

“That’s good. Because we need to leave soon. Where’s Pietro?” you ask, searching the area for any signs of the other twin.

Wanda shakes her head, giving you a worried look.

“I don’t know. He never came back. I was just looking for him.”

You frown at her words, about to question her further when her eyes shift warily to some movement behind you.

"Who's he?" she asks cautiously.

Turning, you see Bucky standing there, patiently waiting. 

Recalling the idea that you formed from Madam B’s information, you call out to him.

"Bucky, can you go and search ahead?"

He nods in acknowledgment and quickly leaves to scout the halls, disappearing around the corner.

“The criminal, I presume,” Wanda states with a small frown.

She didn't agree with your initial decision to meet with Bucky, and seeing him free beside you now only adds to her disapproval.

Unfortunately, you don’t have time to change her distrust at this time, so you nod in confirmation before changing the subject.

“Do you remember all the research I’ve been doing this past year?” you say urgently. 

Wanda nods. "Yes, for a cure to prevent you from being controlled."

"I have an idea, but I need your help," you say, raising her hands in yours before continuing, “I need you to use your powers on my mind.”

"What? No!" Wanda pulls her hands away, hiding them behind her back.

"Wanda, please.”

She shakes her head. 

"I don’t have much practice using my powers like that," she insists, her voice filled with uncertainty.

"Then this is a good opportunity for you to try," you urge.

"Y/n, be serious,” she chastises, fidgeting with her hands nervously, “It could be dangerous. I don't know if I can control it."

You reach out to grasp her hands firmly, reassuring her, "You can do this, Wanda. You are a lot stronger than you think.”

Wanda gives you a disbelieving look, but you return her gaze with one of confidence and trust. 

"I believe in you," you say honestly.

After a hesitant moment of contemplation, Wanda eventually slumps in resignation. 

“What am I supposed to do?” she asks.

“Search my subconscious. See if you can find something that feels out of place – invasive. Then try to form a barrier around it,” you explain your idea.

“Like blocking it from being active?” Wanda questions.

“Or stop it completely,” you say hopefully.

Wanda nods in understanding. She then takes a deep breath, closing her eyes.

When she opens them again, they glow red, mirroring the light mist that forms around her hands.

The mist drifts slowly towards your head, before stopping suddenly a small distance away. Wanda's expression shows a mix of concentration and concern as she stares at you.

“You’ll tell me if I’m hurting you?” she asks cautiously.

“I promise,” you reassure her.

She swallows nervously, relenting with a soft, "Okay.”

Her power continues on its path, finally touching your head, and a warm and gentle pressure enters your mind as Wanda's essence envelopes you completely.

There's no resistance from you as she searches your subconscious.

After a moment, she finally speaks again, her face pinched in concentration.

“I think I almost have–”

A sudden shout of pain reverberates through the halls, causing your eyes to snap open in panic, the connection between you and Wanda interrupted, fading until it disappears completely.

Your heart races as you recognize the source of the sound: Pietro.

Without hesitation, you dash towards the sound with Wanda following close behind.

Arriving at the staircase leading to your floor, you are frozen in shock at the sight before you. 

There, lying at the base of the stairs is Pietro's familiar form, his silver hair now streaked with specks of dark red.

“Pietro!” Wanda's panicked cry breaks the silence, propelling her past you towards her brother.

Her call snaps you out of your daze, and you rush to Pietro's side, kneeling beside Wanda as she cradles his head in her lap.

A groan escapes Pietro at the movement, a sign of consciousness, but the sight of his battered face and body extinguishes any relief you might have felt. Bruises, already darkening, cover his features, and dried blood coats his skin.

You reach out to touch his face gingerly to examine his wounds, but he winces away in pain. One of his eyes is swollen shut, while the other struggles to open, half-lidded as he gazes at you. 

Despite his injuries, he manages to muster a weak attempt at his usual playful smile when he sees your pained expression.

“I’m…fine,” he coughs out, his breath shallow.

“Pietro, you can barely open your eyes,” you whisper in horror.

“Ha…am I still good-looking?” he teases, though his voice comes out more strained than playful.

Wanda lets out a disbelieving huff, tears glistening in her eyes. 

“You look terrible.”

A pained smile flits across his face as he closes his eyes to take in a shaky breath. 

“Careful, Wanda, your face is the same as mine.”

“Pietro, what happened?” you ask, needing an explanation.

“Dreykov’s men caught me…they tried to get me to tell them where you had gone,” he says with a wry chuckle. “Guess they didn’t like my sarcastic answers as much as you do.”

You hold back a wave of emotion and guilt as you gently brush his hair back from his face.

“You should have just told them what they wanted to know,” you chastise, “Then maybe Dreykov wouldn’t have hurt you this badly.”

Pietro lets out a tiny scoff, shaking his head slightly.

“As if. The bastard didn’t even have the guts to hit me himself,” he reveals before succumbing to fits of painful coughs, blood trickling from his mouth.

Panicked, you look to Wanda, telling her urgently.

“Wanda, he needs help!”

She shakes her head helplessly as she examines his condition, her hands clenching and unclenching with uncertainty.

“There is no one else here. The closest person to a healer is at Lady Kate’s.”

You glance back down at Pietro, his breathing shallow and labored and his eyes closed. He's in no condition to move, and without medical help soon, you don’t know how much longer he can survive.

Running through the options in your mind, you realize there is one way you can give both of them a chance to be safe.

“You need to go, Wanda,” you decide firmly.

Wide-eyed, Wanda stares at you, bewildered. 

“What?”

“You need to go, now,” you repeat urgently, gently taking his head from her lap to cradle in yours. “Get to safety and send help back for Pietro.”

Wanda rises slowly at your command, but she doesn’t leave, torn by indecision as she gazes at the two of you, unwilling to abandon you.

As you’re about to desperately plead with her to leave quickly, a reprimanding voice booms from above, sending a shiver of fear running through you.

“This wouldn’t have happened if only you had just listened to me.” 

You turn and lift your gaze to find Dreykov standing at the top of the staircase, his eyes filled with disdain as he stares down at the three of you.

Gesturing to the guards beside him, he adds, “I thought I told you to finish off the boy.”

At his words, the two guards start to descend towards you, and you instinctively tighten your hold on Pietro’s body.

Rage boils within you as you glare at the approaching figures, likely the culprits behind Pietro’s condition.

“Don’t you dare!” you threaten, your voice laced with an angry intensity that startles even the guards, who hesitate and look to Dreykov for further guidance.

Using the momentary distraction, you turn to the frozen twin behind you.

“Wanda, go!” you exclaim urgently.

Your command snaps her out of her daze, and she begins to back away.

“Grab the girl,” Dreykov orders with a bored wave of his hand.

As his guards continue their descent, you brace yourself to intervene, but suddenly, a cry pierces the air from behind.

“Let me go!”

Whirling around in surprise, you see Wanda trapped in a chokehold, not by one of Dreykov’s guards, but by Bucky.

His eyes now stare blankly ahead, devoid of emotion, as he maintains a tight grip on Wanda. It’s clear that the person in front of you is no longer in control.

“Finally, someone who listens to my commands. I should’ve just done the same thing to you imbeciles,” Dreykov comments, his footsteps echoing down the steps, followed by the sound of consecutive slaps, likely aimed at their heads.

Wanda continues to struggle against Bucky’s hold, but his larger form keeps her in place, squeezing the breath from her throat.

“Wanda!” you call out urgently, catching her attention. With a meaningful look, you mouth to her, “He’s like me,” hoping she grasps your implication.

Understanding dawns on Wanda’s face as she turns her head as much as possible to study Bucky, her own eyes beginning to glow red. 

A rough hand suddenly seizes your hair, yanking you upright and forcing you to face Dreykov as Pietro rolls from your lap with a small groan. 

His guards flank you on both sides, holding you in place. 

Meeting his gaze with a harsh glare, you notice a flicker of surprise in his expression.

“Now when did you develop the courage to have such a fierce and hateful look in your eyes?” Dreykov asks curiously. 

His gaze shifts down to Pietro on the ground, and a satisfied smirk creeps across his face. 

“You really should’ve taught your pathetic servants to follow orders better. I never understood why Madam B. let you keep two of them.”

He nonchalantly extends his foot to move Pietro’s face in examination. The disrespectful action further increases your anger as you struggle against the guards' grips. 

Pietro grimaces in pain, prompting Dreykov to shrug indifferently before refocusing on you.

“Well, I guess you’ll only have one soon enough.”

Suddenly, a groan of pain erupts behind you, and you turn your head to see Bucky doubled over, clutching his head, while Wanda staggers on her feet, free from his grip and staring at her hands in shock.

You lock eyes with her, giving her a proud expression and an urgent nod to go.

With one last worried glance at Pietro, Wanda gives you a reassuring nod and quickly disappears into the halls.

One guard releases you to chase after her, but you swiftly trip him with a well-placed foot. The other guard, caught off guard by your sudden movement, loses balance, allowing you to push him away while also grabbing his dagger at his side. You rush to Dreykov, bringing it to his neck.

As you hear the guards behind you begin to recover, you demand angrily, “Tell them to let her go.”

Dreykov meets your gaze with an unbothered expression, his demeanor unaffected by the threat against his neck. 

After a pause, he rolls his eyes and issues a command to his guards.

“Leave her. She can’t do anything. Just another orphan to add to the streets that will die sooner or later,” he dismisses callously.

He then looks down at the dagger in your hand and raises his brow to you.

“Now, is this any way to treat your father?” Dreykov reprimands.

“You don’t get to call yourself my father!” you exclaim vehemently, your voice filled with contempt.

There’s a tense pause as his eyes narrow at your words before his expression relaxes into a smirk.

“So, you finally found out the truth,” he remarks, raising a finger at you.

“You know, there were moments I doubted whether you really were their child. I thought the Starks would have had a more intelligent offspring, something similar to that first prodigal child of theirs.”

His words sting as usual but not as much now that you know how truly evil the man before you can be. 

“You’re despicable,” you seethe with disgust. “What kind of person kidnaps a baby from their parents?” 

Dreykov's smirk widens, reveling in your anger.

“Consider it a consolation to me for their part in choosing peace and ending the war. They got what they deserved,” he says without any remorse.

You tighten your grip on the dagger in anger at how he callously dismisses the deaths he caused. But then you realize, that no matter how hard you try to push, the blade doesn’t move any closer to him, as if an invisible barrier is keeping you away.

“You feel it, don’t you?” Dreykov taunts knowingly. “I’m sure you’re clever enough to guess by now that Madam B isn’t the only one who can control you. After all, the Widow operations are my creation. Why would I ever allow anyone under my control to be able to hurt me?”

His words hit you like a blow, confirming your worst suspicions, but you refuse to show fear and weakness to him, not anymore.

“You’re a coward,” you spit out, glaring at him. “The only thing you know how to do is manipulate others. That’s why you lost the war.”

Dreykov's smirk falters, replaced by a flash of displeasure, and his demeanor shifts, darkening with a hidden temper before he regains his composure. 

With calculated calmness, he takes the dagger from your hand, your fingers releasing the weapon to him involuntarily.

He inspects it thoughtfully for a moment before swiftly backhanding you across the face with the hilt, the vicious blow knocking you to the ground.

“I haven’t lost anything,” he sneers at you angrily.

Pain radiates through your cheek as blood trickles from your split lips, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of hearing your pain. 

You wipe the blood from your lips and stare back defiantly at him, causing him to regard you with a mocking pity.

“Oh, don’t pretend to be brave now. You’re nothing more than a tool in my revenge against the Romanovs and Starks,” he spits out in disdain. “I have no obligation to treat you any better than the dirt beneath my feet.”

As Dreykov moves to strike you again, a feeble hand grabs his foot, stopping him. 

Glancing down, you see Pietro’s face contorted with fury as he desperately clings to Dreykov, attempting to protect you.

Dreykov, now visibly irritated, rolls his eyes and with a disgusted expression, easily breaks free from Pietro’s grasp. He then delivers a harsh kick to his abdomen, causing Pietro to gasp and groan in pain.

“Annoying brat,” Dreykov sneers before pointing at his guards. “Remove this pest from my sight and dispose of him already,” he commands coldly before muttering with disdain, “I’ve always hated that one more than the other.”

In a panic, you seek out Bucky and are relieved to find his gaze full of life and awareness as he assesses the situation.

He meets your eyes, and you hope he understands the silent plea in your gaze, asking him to remember his promise to you.

With a slight grimace in understanding, Bucky steps forward, blocking the guard's advance toward Pietro.

He then moves to support Pietro, draping his arm over his shoulders, and shoots you a reassuring glance before dragging him away, seemingly complying with Dreykov's orders.

As they disappear from view, you release a breath of relief before quickly refocusing on Dreykov, who didn’t seem to pay much attention to Bucky's intervention, too preoccupied with brushing off the spot where Pietro had touched him with evident irritation on his face.

Your glare doesn't escape Dreykov's notice though, prompting him to return his attention to you with an indifferent shrug.

“Everything comes to an end sooner or later, especially the things we love," he remarks casually.

At the mention of everything you love, you think of Natasha and what she’s facing right now, the thought of her giving you strength to press further for answers.

“Then the ambush to kill the Romanovs today. Is that your plan for revenge?” you question, your tone accusing.

Dreykov raises a brow in slight surprise at your knowledge but then waves his hand dismissively.

“Your vision is as small and insignificant as ever,” he insults before continuing. “Killing the Romanovs only solves half of my grievances. There’s still another Stark breathing, after all. And what I need to take him down is the very thing that was taken from me in the first place: my victory in war,” he states with chilling conviction.

You can’t help but scoff internally at his ego-driven goal, but you stay quiet, allowing him to continue with his monologuing.

Dreykov’s voice drips with disdain at his next words.

“My initial plan was to use you to convince that foolish princess of yours to eventually start a war with the Starks. But it became apparent that when she takes the throne, she would never consider that option, no matter how many loving glances you throw her way.”

With a mocking gesture, he reaches out to pat your face before continuing with a smirk.

“Luckily, she’s not the only one infatuated with you.”

You furrow your brows, already knowing who he’s referring to.

“Rumlow,” you answer, piecing together the information. 

“He came to you for help to take the throne. And you agreed,” you assert, recalling the time Rumlow had mentioned meeting with Dreykov, which had led to him boasting about a possible union between you and him.

You give Dreykov a look of disbelief, continuing,  “You revealed information about the Widow operations to him so that he can gather soldiers to control and kill the Romanovs for you while pursuing the throne.”

Dreykov chuckles darkly in amusement.

“And once he becomes the new ruler, I’m sure it would take less than a day to convince him to declare war on the Stark kingdom. Especially, if I give him you as his reward for succeeding,” Dreykov admits, his eyes gleaming with malice.

"I would never agree to that," you declare firmly.

But Dreykov remains unfazed, his gaze cold and calculating.

“You will do whatever I tell you to do: seduce him, marry him, or even just be his plaything,” he threatens.

You let out a disbelieving scoff, shaking your head.

“Natasha won’t lose to someone like him. She’ll stop the ambush and everyone involved,” you declare confidently.

“And then she’ll come for you…is that correct?” Dreykov asks, a sinister smirk playing on his lips.

Your resolve wavers for a moment, the weight of his words and their implication hangs heavy in the air, but you try to push back your nerves, pressing your mouth shut.

“Don’t forget,” Dreykov continues, his tone dripping with arrogance, “I was the kingdom’s greatest tactician during the war. I always have a contingency plan.” 

He raises the dagger in his hand, scrutinizing his reflection in the blade before pointing it menacingly at you, the tip stopping just short of your chest.

“How ironic that her devotion to you will be the very thing that leads her to her downfall,” he says with a menacing grin.

A tiny shiver of fear runs through you but you manage to muster some confidence to reply to him.

“I’ll never let you hurt her,” you say, determination burning in your eyes.

But Dreykov's smirk only widens as he flips the dagger in his hand, offering you the hilt with a chilling grin.

“Then it’s a good thing that I won’t be the one who does.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Series Masterlist : Boundless Devotion

a/n: Thank you for reading! Also, I’m sorry if it was kind of long…but I didn’t want to split it up 😬

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, @autorasexy, @natsxwife, @mviswidow, @slut4johansson, @automaticdinosaurtaco, @jono723, @mousetheorist, @tofu9162

[a-very-tired-jew]

Let's Talk Expertise

This will anger some people, like my age post did, but it also needs to be said and is about something I have been seeing consistently. If you are in your undergrad and taking major courses, you are not an expert on the subject material, let alone the profession itself. You are a student who is just building their foundational knowledge for your chosen field. You have not accumulated enough knowledge on the subject matter to speak from a place of expertise, nor have you learned enough to parse through the nuance of your chosen field or reached any of the milestones to be considered as such. There's a reason why we actually have an expertise system here in the USA that is paired with the legal system and our government employment system. If you go onto a government job site and look at their listings you will see some combination of Degree, Degree + Experience, Degree + Equivalent Experience and Amount of Time. What does this mean? It means that if a job is asking for someone with a Master's degree in a specific field they will consider individuals with the appropriate degree, but they will also consider people with a Bachelor's degree and the equivalent amount of time and/or experience in their field that makes them as knowledgeable as the MS candidate. The reason for the Time/Experience component is that not everyone pursues a graduate degree, but that does not mean they lack the knowledge required. However, there is an equivalency in Time/Experience to those graduate degrees and the special knowledge they impart. This gets even more complicated in higher levels when a position is asking for a PhD + 10 years of experience, that means a BS might be right out unless they have 20+ years of experience and an MS might need 15-20 years alone. In my time as a professor I have seen scores of undergrads present themselves as their major professions when they haven't even finished their junior year. Sometimes it's benign so that they can puff up in mixed company. Other times? Not so much. Several years ago I saw an undergrad present themselves as a psychologist that was "recovering traumatic memories" and got a multitude of people falsely accused of various violent crimes. This culminated in several court cases where the student had to admit they were falsely representing themself as an expert and therefore falsely producing "evidence". In light of the ongoing conflict I have seen a number of blogs on here present themselves as historians/experts on various related subject matter, while openly admitting that they are undergrad students and/or do not work in any capacity relating to the material. The latter can be fine up to a point, but if you are not working in your field and it comes to being an expert according to the GS and/or Daubert Standards, you most likely are not making the cut. The person regularly publishing papers and working as the profession will be considered the expert over you. If all you have is a few papers to your name and no other activities relating to the subject...well it's not a good look to be considered an expert. "AVTP this is elitist! Not everyone can go to college/grad school on *subject matter*" That's right. Not everyone can go to school for psychology, history, ecology, polisci, let alone go and make it their career. These people are not experts then. Plain and simple. You don't get to call yourself an expert because you listen to podcasts or do deep dives on Wikipedia. (And note, this is not about the blogs who are posting about how they did a hyper fixation deep dive on frog naming nomenclature when they were in high school. I am talking about the persons who are presenting themselves as knowledgeable authorities and using phrases like "As a *insert specialist field here*" while they pick courses for their sophomore/junior/senior year.)

[techramonic]

What are some facts or tidbits about Daniel that you don't think is very well-known?

Hey! Thanks for the great question. I have a few things not a lot of people have talked about Daniel, all of which are information taken from his father's book: "Walking in Daniel's Shoes".

Facts about Daniel Mauser

1. Daniel's name came from the Biblical character Daniel and his mother Linda's fondness of Elton John's song titled with the same name. Conner was Linda's maiden name and since she was an only child, it was a way for them to carry her family's last name.

2. In sixth grade, he struggled somewhat with depression. After his mother sent him to a therapist, it was revealed that he was feeling stressed because at the time, he had pneumonia and missed school a few times. He felt that his teacher was pressuring him to catch up. Fortunately, he recovered after a few months.

3. Daniel used to be in cub scouts and boy scouts for a few years. Once school had became more hectic and he was more engaged in piano lessons, he dropped out of the scouts. He had earned basic badges but was not too enthusiastic with scouting long-term.

4. On July 24, 1999, Boy Scout 359 installed a park bench in Daniel’s memory along the South Rim Trail at Roxborough State Park, ten miles south of Columbine. Daniel was once a member of the Boy Scout Troop that preceded 359. Roxborough was the Mauser family’s favorite hiking area.

5. He played chess and won second place in a Denver metro tournament as a member of the school's chest club team. He also won two National Science Olympiad awards, presented to the top ten scorers in general science knowledge.

6. He was an occasional babysitter and was great with kids.

7. He was a Junior Volunteer at Swedish Hospital for two summers and helped in the pharmacy and he expressed interest in working in a medical or medical research field.

8. Despite winning often in games like Super Mario Brothers and even Foosball, his dad had caught on he was getting bored of playing with him, but despite that, he still played whenever he was invited because that was how much he loved his father.

9. He had a keen interest in current events and social issues and was a frequent reader of Time Magazine and viewer of 60 Minutes.

10. His father said he sometimes worried about little things, like if the gas tank in the car was getting too low.

11. He played soccer for a couple of years when he was younger, tried skiing, and played baseball on a YMCA team.

12. Before his death, Daniel's Biology teacher told his mother that he would be receiving an award for outstanding sophomore biology student. It was a supposed secret, one which Daniel never found out.

13. His family was very close. Tom described them as a "Dinner Table Family", who always ate dinner together. According to his father's words, "there was no sneaking off to watch the TV or play on the computer. We are together, talked together, and exchanged stories."

14. Daniel and his sister were close despite their contrasting personalities. Daniel was more like his mother—shy, introspective, intelligent, and calm. His sister Christine was like her father—outgoing, witty, a bit wild and crazy. He would often roll his eyes at her and in an exasperated tone, he would exclaim, "Theater people! Oh, my God!"

15. He had a dry sense of humor and his mom thought he prided himself on being a rational sort of fellow who was not given to drama of any sort.

16. Tom, Daniel's father, grew out of poverty. He came from Finelyville, a small town south of Pittsburgh. His father was a coal miner, his mother was a housewife, and he was the youngest out of four siblings. Tom rarely had pictures of himself. However, he didn't want that to happen with his children, so he would frequently take their pictures and film them to keep memories.

17. Daniel didn't like his pictures being taken when he was a teen. His father would still insist to take pictures for keepsake.

18. When he was fifteen and a half, Daniel was qualified to receive his driver's permit but he said he wasn't ready yet.

19. His nickname in debate class, according to Devon Adams, was "Moose": "So appropriate —it's a large, amusing but quick and fierce when-it-needs-to-be animal."

20. Daniel volunteered to rake the leaves off the lawn of a neighborhood senior citizen's house after he recently had a heartattack.