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Last update: Feb 27, 2026
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Boundless Devotion - Masterlist
Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader
Summary: MedievalAU. Natasha is the eldest princess of the Romanov Kingdom. As the time of her coronation approaches, she is suddenly forced to make a decision – either find herself a partner or her parents will choose one for her.
Warnings: This series does contain mentions of violence, abuse, blood, panic attacks, mind control, and deaths.
Chapters:
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
Side Story:
Fateful Encounter (Prequel)
Sequel Series : Everlasting Devotion
If I hear one more person who has no historical knowledge of lesbian history (butches, Leslie Feinberg, drag kings, butches in T since the 60s, butches since the mid 20th century calling themselves "husbands" & purposely using male/gender neutral names) & generally gender identity and complexity say and how "you can't be he him and a lesbian" , "words don't have meanings anymore" im going to start throwing bricks at people. Just because someone wants to be called masculine pronouns doesn't mean they're a binary man. Gender non conformity has ALWAYS existed amongst the lesbian community as long as we can remember and anyone who disagrees and shoves "it's women loving women!!!" into people's faces is clearly uneducated and very miserable
cannibalistic butch x cannibalistic femme so we can watch our blood drip from each other's lips
Spider-man’s Sidekick
Jean Grey x fem!reader
Summary: You’re Peter Parker’s best friend, and Spider-man’s sidekick. Being the only one after Dr. Strange’s spell able to remember Peter, you both stick together and form a life of being broke and kicking villains’s asses. But when a new danger looms over New York, Peter takes it upon himself to stop it, while you find yourself questioning why that stranger was causing all this chaos
Warning(s): protective Peter Parker, platonic Peter Parker x fem!reader, enemies to lovers, mentions of kidnapping, Jean being down bad and lowkey hating it because it ruins her mysterious girl aesthetic, making out, kinda sexual
Request: here
Word count: 4.9k words
a/n: if you want a second part let me know!
You could count on one hand the number of times you have doubted Peter’s judgment. There had been that huge fight while in Europe, when he had willingly trusted Quentin because he was craving the father figure he had lost. That argument had been… bad. Awful. Unforgettable.
You had stormed off in the middle of the airport after his fight with Mysterio, swearing up and down you never wanted to see him again. You had stayed away from everyone, sick and tired of being ignored by who you considered your best friend, until you have seen it; Mysterio, in front of the entire world, revealing Peter’s secret identity.
The aftermath of that had been filled with very awkward conversations and the strength to hold back the need to say ‘I told you so.’ There was no point in beating a dead horse, and Peter… he was beyond gone. Especially after losing May and having MJ and Ned forget him.
You had been spared, thanks to your magic you honestly had no idea where it came from. The spell hadn’t worked on you, and in the worst period of time of Peter’s life, you had remained a stubborn constant, not allowing him to slip away into the darkness, begging to fight until he started to do it.
He had become an amazing hero; not that he wasn’t before, but after May, he fought like it was his calling— like he needed it as an outlet to not tip over the edge.
And you had been there by his side, watching his back and stopping him for going too far. His oldest friend, his trusted sidekick, which was the name New Yorkers had apparently given to you, despite how much you hated that title; you only fought to watch over Peter, not for glory or a cool name, but still… Spider-man’s sidekick? Really?
You shook your head, focusing back on Peter’s voice. You recalled quickly what he had been telling you, and blinked at his pacing figure in the living room of your shared apartment.
“A telepath,” you repeated, thinking over the words. “Who controls people.”
“Yes,” Peter ran a hand over his messy curls. “It’s— I don’t know. It’s something strange.”
“Avengers type of strange?” You inquired.
He gave you a meaningful look. “Maybe.”
“Alright,” you said, standing up from the sofa.
“Wha— where are you going? We’re in a crisis.”
“I know, dummy,” you said, going to the bathroom.
“Is that a swimsuit?” Peter called after you.
“Yes!” You replied through the closed door. “I’m going to see Yelena and ask her what she knows.”
He sighed. “Be careful, please.”
“I will.”
With new (and albeit little) information, you departed Yelena’s unusual office and made your way back home. It was starting to get dark, and you knew if you didn’t get back soon, Peter would start to worry. You didn’t blame him one bit, you always worried about him too. You had a rule to always call if you were a little late for dinner, just to not concern the other.
But as you took a left and entered a less crowded part of the city, you felt it; a small tingling in your hands, your hairs standing on end, blood pumping fast in preparation for a fight.
Shit. Shit.
Something slammed against you and pushed you into a wall of the deserted alley to your right. You tried to talk, but a gloved hand was pressed against your mouth.
A warm body moved until it was right over yours, grabbing your wrists and holding them in place against the wall.
“Well,” the voice was surprisingly sweet considering who —or what— was holding you down. “If it isn’t Spider-man’s sidekick.”
You almost rolled your eyes at the name, but you knew it wasn’t the time to lose focus; you needed to stay on high alert.
You couldn’t see the face, blocked by the hood over her head and the darkness of the alleyway, but as she moved closer you saw green eyes staring you down.
“Are you gonna scream?” She asked, almost mockingly. In response, you bit into her gloved finger. She put her hand back and used it to hold your arms more securely over your head. “Feisty.”
“What do you want?” You asked, sounding tired and frustrated. You hated that she had managed to sneak up on you, hated that you had been stupid enough to get caught. But mostly you hated that you would get an earful from Peter the moment you were safe. “Money? Power?”
“I want to know where V-max is,” she said. “And you know it. I know he does.”
You found yourself looking into her eyes. They were… tired. Exhausted, even. As if she hadn’t slept in days. She didn’t look like a maniac on a power trip, but… but like a lost person searching for something.
“V-max,” you repeated. The name sounded utterly unfamiliar to you; you had never heard Peter mention it, and none of the villains you would beat up and send to jail had ever said anything remotely similar to what the woman said.
“Yes.” She squeezed your wrists harder, pupils dilating in excitement of what she thought was the big reveal she had been waiting for.
“I don’t know anything about that,” you told her. You hoped it sounded sincere.
She got closer, her nose almost touching yours, and her lips curled in anger as she spoke: “Bullshit.”
You opened your mouth to reply, but something cut you off. The woman, she was— she was trying to get into your head. And…
She was succeeding.
You pushed against the invisible force trying to breach through your mental walls, forcing it out until she stumbled back, clearly taken aback by how strong you were.
“What is it with you and your boyfriend, uh?” She asked, breathing loudly through her nose. She was starting to get frustrated; you needed to get out fast. “Did you do something to make you immune to me?”
You threw your head back as much as the wall allowed and hit her square in the face with your forehead. The hit was enough for her to pull away from you and she stumbled backwards, cursing loudly.
You didn’t stay to see if she was okay; you took off running as she watched, surprisingly docile as her prey escaped.
But you weren’t escaping— no, she was playing with you.
As you turned your head to the side, you saw bodies moving awkwardly. A young man with sporty clothes pivoted and ran towards you.
“I just want to know where V-max is!” He —she— screamed at you as he chased you. “I need to know.”
“Fuck off!” You screamed, going up a fire escape staircase as the man observed, clearly done with the chase for the time being.
As you stayed on the roof and called Peter to come pick you up, you couldn’t help but think of her words.
I need to know.
Why? Why was V-max —whatever that was— so important that she was willingly antagonizing the most persistent hero in all of America?
There was something else, something far beyond the common villainous greed. Yes— this was personal to her, and if you were to judge her sunken-in eyes, it was crucial.
But Peter had already made up his mind; she was a villain that needed to be stopped.
“Shit,” you said, running a hand over your hair to push it out of your sweaty face.
You were going to have to go behind Peter’s back to figure out what this was all about.
Great.
“I told you to be careful,” Peter said, pacing back and forth in front of your bedroom door. “And what do you do? Almost get caught by her!”
“I didn’t get caught!” You threw back, changing out of your work clothes. It was the following day and Peter was still freaking out about what had happened the night before. “She couldn’t get into my mind. Magic, remember? The thing that made it impossible for me to forget your annoying ass?”
Peter threw his hands in the air, clearly frustrated. Not with you per se, but with the situation as a whole. He hated the feeling of his loved ones being in danger; especially if it came from a person he seemingly couldn’t stop.
“Sorry,” Peter said.
You walked up to him, wearing your comfy pijamas you had bought with your first salary, and squeezed his shoulders.
“I know,” you told him softly. “And I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to scare you. I know you’re angry at her, but you can’t let her get into your head.” You paused. “Literally and figuratively.”
Peter chuckled, moving to wrap his arms around your waist. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice cracking halfway through. “Please don’t die.”
“I love you too,” you squeezed his neck hard. “And ditto.”
He pulled away and reached for his mask. “I’m going on patrol, okay? I’ll be back before dinner.”
“I’m making burgers,” you told him.
“Extra cheese, please, ma’am,” he told you as he opened the window of the living room.
You tried to ignore it at first. That gut feeling in your chest that was telling something was off about the entire situation.
You just wanted peace and calm. To have a laugh with Peter during dinner, go to bed early and wake up with enough time to take a hot shower before your shift as a cashier at one of the Deli’s around the corner.
But you couldn’t help but feel as if something was wrong. Utterly, completely wrong.
With a sigh, you turned off the TV program you weren’t even watching and stood up. You walked around for a bit, trying to think of something to do. Your eyes landed on Peter’s computers, an ugly sight that sometimes made you regret letting him set up his ‘office’ in the living room.
“Fuck it,” you murmured, going up to one of the screens and turning it on. “Hey, E.V.,” you called, smiling when the robotic voice welcomed you. “Do you think you can find me some info on V-max?”
“Let me check.”
After an agonizing minute and a half (not that you were counting or anything), the AI replied: “Nothing. Maybe you got the name wrong?”
No. You could remember perfectly the feeling of her warm hands on your wrists, squeezing as she said the name. It was V-max, and whatever that was, it was so important that not even Peter’s super smart AI assistant could get access to it.
You checked the clock on the corner of the screen. It was early. You could go around and check on some of the facilities, but…
But you would be a fool of you didn’t try to question the girl again, before you went onto this tangent that could put Peter in danger.
Opening the window that led to the fire escape, you stepped outside and looked around.
“Hey,” you called, because you knew she was close. You could feel her in the back of your mind, a tingling sensation that was almost playful. She must have followed you and Peter last night as he took you both home; she must be waiting for you to leave the house so she could get inside and get any dirt she could on your best friend.
God, what the fuck were you doing?
A body on the other side of the street moved, and soon enough another followed, until a woman was trying to climb the stairs.
“No,” you said. “I wanna talk to you.”
The middle aged woman looked at you, blinking, before she moved around as if possessed; well, technically speaking, she was. The next second, she was looking around confused, not remembering how or why she had been trying to get up the stairs of a fire escape building.
Soon enough, a hooded figure walked the same path your eyes had tracked before. You were momentarily surprised she had decided to listen to you; she was either stupidly naïve or desperate enough to obey your request.
As she climbed, her hood shifted to the side and you caught a glimpse of her vibrant red hair. Once she was in front of you, you noticed she was slightly taller, with too many layers of clothing and—
Jesus, those eyes. They were full of indescribable grief.
“Why do you want V-max?” You asked her, crossing your arms. Standing so close to her made you feel on edge. She was powerful, although not fully aware of it; you were sure if she really tried, if she put her mind to it, she could also control you as she did with everyone else.
“Do you know where it is?” She asked. She sounded skeptical, and hopeful.
“I don’t even know what it is,” you admitted. Her shoulders dropped. “But… tell me. Tell me why you’re searching for it.”
“So you can snitch on me to your boyfriend and get me killed?” She asked, sarcastic and angry and bitter.
What the hell had she gone through to be so… so cynical?
“Not my boyfriend. And no,” you said. “I think you’re not a crazy person trying to destroy the world. I think you actually want whatever v-max is for something good.”
“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “And how can I trust it’s not a trap?”
“Listen, smartass, I’m trying to help you here.” You hit her arm. She had the decency to pretend it hurt. “You’re a scary cat that doesn’t trust easy, fine. Show me.”
She blinked at you. “Show you what?”
“Why V-max is so important to you,” you said. “Let me judge if you’re insane or not.”
“If you want me to show you—”
“You have to get inside my mind. I know,” you took a step back, sending Peter a wordless apology for what you were about to do. “I’m gonna let you in. If you take advantage of me and try to use me to get that thing—”
“I won’t,” she rushed to say. Under the bright sun, she seemed so lost. God, she was either an amazing actress or she really was being misunderstood by everyone. “I swear.”
You were a lifeline she was clinging onto; the one person giving her a chance to explain herself.
“Then do it.”
You took a deep breath and let your walls down for the first time in years.
You blinked to try to get used to the light blinding you. You looked around, noticing you were laying on—
Jean. Her name was Jean. She was just a girl your age trying to find her sister. And the government was going after her, and so was your best friend, the closest thing to a brother you had; a big brother who was unknowingly getting in the way of Jean’s big sister, and—
And shit, you must have almost stumbled backwards when she had entered your mind. She had been harsh, probably not used to doing it gently, but she had caught you and held you as you watched her memories.
You weren’t sure if she had entered your mind or had just led you into hers. Her emotions… they had hit you so hard you had wanted to cry. Jesus, she was so scared and alone…
“Hey, sleeping beauty,” she smiled softly down at you. She was kneeling on the fire escape floor, using one of her legs so you could lead on her. Both her arms were carefully placed around you, being careful not to touch you too much in case it was unwelcomed, but ready to hold you if you started to slip.
“Jean,” you said her name. “I…” You sat up, trying to wrap your mind around everything. “Was V-max the organization that took Sara?”
“No.” Jean sat down, resting her back on the railing opposite to you. “It was the last thing she told me. In my mind. It was a few weeks ago. She sent me a message. A cry for help. She needs me to find her.”
You cursed. This was all a fucking mess.
“Okay.” You blinked at her. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Jean asked, frowning.
“How did you know it was me?” You asked, changing the subject suddenly. It had been irking you, how she had been able to find you within the crowd so easily when you prided yourself in staying under the radar.
“You’re the only person I can’t read,” she said. Her hand raised and she played with the chain around her neck. She looked oddly… human, and you tried not to think how attractive she was with her hood down. “Out of this entire town, you’re the only one. I knew it was you who was protecting Peter’s mind. I just looked until I found you.”
Protecting Peter’s mind. Was that what you had been doing unconsciously? You had always wanted to keep him safe, so it was a given, but still…
“I can feel you,” you said. “Just like you can feel me.”
She pursed her lips, clearly unhappy with the knowledge that whatever it was going on between the two of you, it was mutual.
“Yes,” she said. “I think… I think you’re like me.”
A freak. A contradiction of nature.
“I think so too.”
Silence. Jean looked down at her hands, sighing. She seemed even more troubled now that she had gotten confirmation that Spider-man and his friend didn’t know anything about V-max.
“I didn’t mean to,” you said. Jean looked up and found you looking at her lips. When you had hit her the night before, you had aimed for her nose as Peter had taught you; the bones in the nose were surprisingly fragile compared to other bones around, so you always aimed for it when an asshole tried to grab you without your consent.
But the headbump had landed on her lower lip instead, cutting it as it hit her teeth.
Jean passed her tongue over her cut lip. “It’s whatever.”
You stood up, offering her your stretched hand. “C’mon.”
She eyed it for a moment before she grabbed it, using your help to stand up.
“What are we doing?” Jean asked, observing you as you got back inside the house.
“I’m dressing your wound and feeding you.”
Jean waited a moment, trying to take in your words, and once she saw you looking at her challengingly through the window, she rushed in to get inside.
Jean was oddly still. It was something you had noticed when you first saw her; her muscles locked and her body stopped any motion, making it seem as if she wasn’t even breathing.
She had stayed unmoving as you sat her down on Peter’s desk chair and disappeared to grab the first-aid kit you were constantly using with your best friend. It was more of a test on your part, to see what she would do alone in your apartment. You even waited an extra minute, looking through the med cabinet and humming as you checked the expiration date on any bottle you grabbed.
After you were satisfied, you walked back into the living room and inspected Jean.
Still sitting down where you had left her, her eyes on the ground as she waited for you to come back. She had even made a point of putting her hands on top of her thighs so you could clearly see her hands at all times.
“Look at you,” you said, walking up to her. “Who knew you could actually listen when I talk?”
She rolled her eyes. She kept her stare strictly on you, analyzing your every movement intensely.
“What are you gonna tell your boyfriend about me?” She asked. You pressed the gauze with isopropyl alcohol harder against her lip, making her hiss.
“I told you,” you said through gritted teeth. “Not my boyfriend.”
She raised an eyebrow, suddenly really interested in the conversation. “So you’re single?”
You laughed. The sound made Jean’s heart skip a beat. It was a melodic sound, albeit a little bit loud and high-pitched.
She loved it.
“Why the sudden interest…?” You tried to dig through your brain to remember Jean’s memories, searching for the word you weren’t sure had heard before.
“Grey,” she replied, seemingly able to understand where your mind had wandered to.
You held back the need to laugh and instead told her your own name. She whispered it back, her lips moving and grazing the back of your fingers. The touch set a shiver down your back.
“So Jean Grey, uh?” You asked, smiling cheekily. You had finally finished disinfecting the wound you had caused, and were starting to pull everything away.
“Yes.”
“Favorite piece of clothing?” You bit your lip at the awful joke. She eyed the movement with her blue orbs, the stare to instead you had to turn around suddenly.
She let out a laugh you barely heard as you walked up to the kitchen and threw away all the packaging you have used to play nurse with the ginger.
“What are you going to tell Peter?” She asked once you stood in front of her again.
You took a step back. “How…” You gave her an accusatory look. “Did you go into my mind?”
She raised her hands in a display of innocence. “No. I swore to you I wouldn’t.”
“So?”
She shrugged. “I read it in your mailbox.”
You cursed. Of course. God, you were awful at this whole ‘maintaining anonymity while saving New York’ thing. It was a wonder no one had caught you yet, considering you tent to leave your bag with your I.D. inside in whatever alley you could find while you went on to save the day.
“Sorry.”
She looked to the side, eyeing your mask. Peter had made it for you after Dr. Strange’s spell, apparently too paranoid to want you to be a vigilante without the proper face cover.
“Spider-man’s sidekick,” she said. “When are you gonna be your own person?”
You gritted your teeth, snatching the mask from the table. With a smirk, she made the mask levitate towards her. You allowed it, observing her.
“You’re a good person,” she whispered, looking into the eye lens from outside. You wondered what she was thinking about. “Why are you helping me?”
“Well, you said it yourself,” you walked up to her and delicately grabbed the mask. “I’m a good person. I help people who need it.”
“So I’m in that selected category?” She looked at you through her eyelashes. They were pretty, more blond than ginger, but still visible enough under the light of the living room.
“Yes,” you replied.
“What an honor,” she said, but there was no playfulness in her tone as she said those words. Her eyes were surprisingly kind as she looked at you. That was her saying thank you, you realized. The most vulnerable she would allow herself to be with a stranger.
You put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “You’re welcome.”
Her hand landed on your thigh, squeezing it back.
She remained seated as you moved to the kitchen. She was once again unnaturally still, hands on her lap. It was as if she was scared of moving, of catching someone’s eye and giving away her location. You thought it over as you pulled the two packages of burgers from the fridge, deciding to make enough food so she wouldn’t go hungry; she seemed as if she needed a good meal in her body. She was a little too skinny for it to be considered healthy, but taking into account she lived in the streets and her entire focus resided on finding her sister…
“Hey,” you called, turning your body to give her a look. “Can you help me peel some potatoes?”
“Sure.” She stood from the chair and walked over to you. You raised an eyebrow and she stopped.
“Take off your jacket. Put your hair up. And wash your hands.”
“Jesus, you’re bossy.”
“Like you couldn’t believe it.”
She took off her utter leather jacket, long and worn out, and laid it on the back of the chair. Standing there with her yellow jacket, she looked more… well, less intimidating.
“Nice pants, Jean,” you said. She didn’t dignify that with an answer, rolling her eyes and walking away to the bathroom.
Once she was out, with her hair in a messy bun and hands still damp, she walked to you.
“What are you going to do about Peter?” She asked once more.
“Well, he won’t be here for a while. I say we eat and you go hide in my bedroom once he’s here. And tomorrow…” You shook your head. “I’ll think of how to talk to him about this tomorrow.”
“Hide in your room?” She asked. “Won’t he be able to… feel me?”
“That only works when someone is in danger.” You looked at her over your shoulder. “And you’re not going to hurt me, are you?”
Jean replied before you could finish the sentence. “No.”
“Good.” You pointed at the washed potatoes on the counter. “Then you stay, and tomorrow we’ll figure it out. I know you don’t like him, but trust me, he’s a good guy. He’ll help us.”
Us. The word choice wasn’t lost to Jean. It was refreshing to have someone on her corner.
Jean moved silently, even with her combat boots. She was graceful, in the way only someone raised to be quiet can be.
Jean rested a hand on top of the counter, palm down. Her rings shone in the light of the kitchen, making you swallow. Her hand was close to your waist, as if she had wanted to hold you there but thought better of at the last second. You could feel her; her warmth behind you, her presence on the back of your mind. When you turned, she moved her other hand and successfully trapped you between the counter and her body.
“Are we a team now?” She asked. Her breath was minty, probably from chewing gum she had thrown out before obeying your request to come inside to eat.
“I don’t know,” you whispered. Her eyes felt like a physical presence that caressed your entire face. “Are we?”
“I’m used to doing things solo,” she replied. Her eyes went down from your eyes, going to your nose and then finally your mouth. “But maybe I can get used to your help.” She smirked. “Maybe you could be my sidekick.”
You almost growled; the nerve of this woman… always joking, always pushing your buttons. You weren’t sure what to make of her, but you knew just what to do to keep her quiet.
You hooked a finger over her chain, twisting until you had enough leverage to push her down. She went willingly, gripping the counter with all her might; she was holding back, letting you set the pace, and you loved it as much as you hated it.
You wanted to see her unravel. To wipe that knowing smirk from her lips. To make her lose the control she had been clinging onto for months.
When your lips connected, she moaned into your mouth. You expected her to take it slow, letting her savor your mouth, but she was greedy. She took everything you were offering her, seeking more the moment you wrapped your arms around her neck. Her hands were all over your body, as if she wanted to touch you everywhere and didn’t know where to begin. She settled for the back of your thighs, pushing you up until you were sitting on the counter. She didn’t stop there; her fingers, so long and sly, made you wonder what else she could do with them. They would fit perfectly inside of you, you were sure of it.
Fuck, she was driving you crazy.
Jean broke the kiss, and you pushed your head back a little, expecting her to talk. Instead, she grabbed the back of your head and began kissing your neck. Everywhere she touched, you could feel an aftershock under your skin. Your body was singing in pleasure, and you were sure you could hear her inside your mind, responding to you.
“Shit, Jean—”
She was hungry. You had been able to tell the first you saw her. Hungry for love, for answers, for help, for closure. But now… now she was hungry for you.
“I’m home—”
You grabbed Jean by the back of her head and pulled on her hair, forcing her to move her body away from you.
Peter was standing in the doorway, a bag full of groceries in his hand. He looked at you, and you looked at him; with your body on top of the counter, your legs spread to accommodate Jean’s body between them and her hands all over you, you knew there was no way out of this conversation now.
“Hey, Pete.” You made Jean turn her head until your friend could take a proper look at her face. “I found the telepath that’s been driving you crazy.”
He dropped the groceries, and you cringed at the sound of eggs breaking.
holy shi.........
I can handle all three versions, I'm a volunteer🤚👋🤚👋🤚👋🤚👋🤚👋
Jean Grey HD Wallpapers - Spider-Man Brand New Day - Sadie Sink
What are boobs??????????????
Im a visual learner btw
manifesting that many sadie sink/her characters x reader authors pulls up right NEOW especially with her super secret character in spider-man
#letthemtalentsout
Jean Grey Icons from Spider-Man Brand New Day
they sent mcu peter parker to the school of misery and suffering
i love in yelena fics when y'all write her speaking russian so i have to stop reading and go to the translator only to find out that she called y/n beautiful then i giggle and go back to reading
YOU WANNA BE MAD ♡ EIGHTEEN
⚰︎ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ⋆ ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ
⋆ ⋆ ─ prev part ⋆ next part
⚰︎ chapter tags: flashbacks are italicized ⋆ post thunderbolts flashback ⋆ post age of ultron flashback ⋆ soft yelena ⋆ sharing a bed ⋆ alcohol ⋆ mentions of past abuse ⋆ minor emetophobia warning ⋆ word count: 3.9k
⚰︎ bones now playing ▹ mad - reneé rapp
The hum of the Watchtower was loud. Your room was too hot. The blankets too restricting. The lights that peeked through your parted curtains was too bright.
You couldn’t sleep no matter what you did. The migraine that shattered your thoughts kept growing. It had been hours since you had laid down with sleep continuing to evade you.
You eventually decided to leave your designated bedroom and find yourself a spot on the couch of the common space. You were sprawled on the cushions with a throw blanket and an ice pack laid across your forehead in an attempt to quell the throb in your brain.
After an unknown amount of time you heard quiet footsteps make their way towards the open room. You remained still, hoping to maybe go unnoticed by your intruder. A small shuffle of the floor and a light gasp indicated you had startled whoever walked in.
“What the hell are you doing?” Yelena’s irritated voice cut through the dark silence. You nearly groaned outwardly in frustration. Of course it was her that had to find you here.
“Can’t sleep.” You shrugged. “What the hell are you doing?” You threw her question back at her. You heard her release a sigh.
“Can’t sleep.” She repeated your words back. You huffed out a laugh of mild irritation.
“Rooms taken.” You announced. You knew having her in here would only continue to worsen the migraine that was wreaking havoc on your brain.
“I do not plan on staying.”
The light of the kitchenette suddenly turned on. You did groan this time as the light spiked the pain, hands coming up to cover your eyes.
“Turn that shit off.” You ordered.
“Woah,” she laughed, “I didn’t know you owned the room.” She noted sarcastically, seemingly pleased with your irritation. Now that you were exposed to the light she could see the ice pack you had placed on your forehead.
“What’s wrong with you?” She asked, loudly grabbing a glass and filling it with what sounded like ice. “Lose a fight?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You mused.
The last thing you needed was Yelena extorting another weakness of yours.
You peeked your eyes open to see her grabbing a glass of liquor from the cabinet. A sense of déjà vu washed over your thoughts.
“It is three in the morning.” You noted.
Yelena hummed in acknowledgment, choosing to ignore your advice.
“Maybe you should drink some water.” You suggested in a softer voice.
“Maybe you should mind your business and sleep in your own room.” Yelena shot back while loudly setting the bottle on the granite countertop.
“This is a shared space.” You reminded her, voice wavering as a spike of nausea rolled over you. She went quiet for a moment, clinking the glass and the bottle together. You groaned quietly while pushing your hands further into your eyes.
“Oh I’m sorry.” She said voice still oozing sarcasm, tone sounding sickeningly sweet. “Do you have a headache?”
“Fuck off.” You didn’t directly answer.
“Okay.” She said cheerily, glasses clanking loudly once again, then followed by footsteps indicating that she was leaving the room.
“Sleep tight, do not let the bed bugs bite!”
“Turn the fucking light off!” Yeah syllable of your shout pounded against your skull.
“You have legs!” Her voice echoed from the what sounded like somewhere out of the room.
The irritation flooded into anger as you realized she was already down the hall and most likely at the elevator by now.
The pain in your head increased as you moved and stood to shut the light off, nausea skyrocketing right along with it. It assaulted you in crashing waves, filling your mouth with extra saliva as the reality set in that you would soon be vomiting.
You gagged once, swallowing down the bile in your throat while steadying yourself against the counter. It resurfaced as you tried to take in another breath. You made it to the sink just in time as you hunched over the basin and emptied out the liquid contents in your stomach.
You blinked awake at the darkness of your bedroom for the countless time that night, only this time lurching forward with the feeling of having to throw up. After a few moments of breathing heavily did you calm realizing it was nothing more than a phantom sensation leftover from your dream state.
You angrily flopped back down onto your mattress and tried to get comfortable once more. The promise of a good nights sleep had been evading you all night. Unable to stay asleep for more than what seemed like a few minutes at a time, the small dull ache in your head persisted no matter what you did. Accompanied by a sense of anxiety kicking you awake every time you seemed to find rest.
This time you had been woken by your dream. It left you with a bad taste in your mouth, but instead of dwelling on it you tried to get yourself back to sleep. You had been able to slip back into a light slumber on your earlier attempts but this time you found yourself wide awake, tossing and turning as fatigue evaded you completely.
After finally watching the clock hit 2:00AM you felt that you had enough.
Slipping out of your bed, your sock clad feet hit the cold floor and lead you out of your room. You had half a mind to think Bucky would have set an alarm on your door to alert him of your next escape attempt.
When you stepped out into the hallway, you debated on what direction to turn. You could go right, take the elevator to the common space and maybe drink yourself to sleep. Or go left.
Instead of going right, you decided to turn left, finding yourself staring face to face with Yelena’s door. You hesitated, unsure if you should bother her so late. As a sudden wave of fatigue hit you and caused you to sway on your feet a little, you made your decision.
With a raised hand, you were knocking softly on her door. You stepped back a little and waited a few moments. Maybe she didn’t hear it, or maybe she would ignore the intrusion? As more doubts and insecurities flooded your mind, you were relieved when you heard the click of her lock before the door was opening.
Yelena stood before you, her soft appearance indicating that you had most likely woken her up from her own slumber. Her tank top was askew, hair tousled with obvious signs of sleep, eyes squinted in confusion.
“Hi.” You squeaked out.
“Hey,” she rubbed at her eye. “Are you alright?”
You pressed your lips into a thin line, taking in a breath in before answering. The care she was displaying was so far from the attitude you had exchanged in your dream.
“I can’t sleep.” You admitted.
She hummed sleepily along with your statement as she blinked a few times, mind clearly still clouded with sleep.
After casting her gaze down the hallway to find all doors closed and quiet, she stepped back and gestured you to enter the room. Yelena walked back to the bed, reaching to turn on the small bedside lamp. You blinked rapidly at the softened new light.
“After all of that walking,” she rubbed at her eye. “You are not even a little tired?”
You awkwardly stood in the center of the room, eyes fluttering over the new space. You had never been inside of her room before. It wasn’t messy, but it wasn’t impeccably clean. Shoes and clothing were scattered here and there, but no trash. Some art was hung on the wall, trinkets here and there.
“I am,” you argued. “I just- I can’t sleep. It’s the concussion I think.” Or just plain anxiety. You couldn’t really tell the difference.
She blinked again,
“If you are going to ask me to help you sneak out again I am afraid that I will have to sternly decline.”
“No- no I’m not here for that.” You shook your head. “I don’t want you to- I actually don’t know what I’m doing here.”
“You clearly came to find a way to sleep.”
You let a moment of silence pass before you answered, voice quieter than before.
“I just don’t think I want to be alone.”
Another moment of silence passed by before Yelena was turning to her bed. You stayed in place, puzzled as you watched her flip the rumpled comforter back.
“You can take the right side.”
When you made no intention to move, stunned by her invitation, she was tossing a pillow in your direction. You managed to catch it as it lightly bounced off of your face. You stalled for another moment, watching as she climbed back into her spot.
You shuffled your way to the other side of her full sized bed and settled down onto the sheets. Her back was facing you as she reached for the lamp before settling his down into the bedding. Silence blanket the room.
“Thank you.” You said quietly. You thought that she was ignoring you until her voice sounded out into the darkness with a familiar phrase.
“Sladkikh snov.”
You stared at your bed with a scowl, bedding still rumpled from when you had ignored to properly make up that morning. You didn’t even want to attempt to sleep. You’ve been having nightmares ever since you had returned from Sokovia. You hadn't even made it home before they even started, exhaustion induced sleep disrupted by horrific dreams on your ride home.
After passing out from the fatigue, you had woken up in a panic thinking that you were back there. The city that floated up into the sky and was attacked by robots. Thousands of innocent lives uprooted and destroyed because of Ultron. Steve had calmed you down, unfortunately while being on the receiving end of a shock that would have been catastrophic to someone that was not a super soldier. He’d taken it like a champ, focusing on your comfort despite his own muscles aching and his hair singed.
It had now been days since your return and you had yet to have a good nights rest despite being medically approved for duty with a clean bill of health.
Instead of sleeping tonight, you made your way to the compound’s kitchen where you found yourself seated with a bottle of wine. You had drank down a third of the bottle, finally feeling your eyes droop a little.
“Really?” Your head bobbed up to meet the disappointed gaze of Natasha. She stood in the door way, short hair messily pushed out of her face, dressed in a baggy S.H.I.E.L.D. long sleeve and shorts. Her arms were crossed, a look of sad disappointment displayed on her face.
“Hey.” You gave her a sheepish smile, cheeks feeling warm with the flush of the alcohol.
“It is three in the morning.” She noted softly.
You shrugged.
“You want some?” You clumsily tipped the bottle in her direction.
“Nope.” She grabbed the cork off the table and plugged the bottle up.
“Hey! I wasn’t done with that.” You shouted out in protest. Natasha sighed.
“Yes, you are.”
You rolled your eyes as her back turned to place the bottle back into the wine cooler.
“I saw that.”
“No you didn’t.”
“You need to sleep.” She turned back around, hands resting on the counter.
“I don’t wanna.” You slurred. “Can’t.”
Your mind was still racing.
The battle with Ultron. Natasha being taken. The images Wanda Maximoff had put in your mind kept reappearing. Resurfacing the buried memories of your childhood when you were forced to be a weapon. For the first time in years you could almost still feel the chains they kept you bound with. The skin of your neck and ankles rubbed raw and burning. You could never remember the details until she toyed with your mind. The vague doorways and featureless faces were clear now. The buildings now completely visible to you, the expressions of your captors were twisted with emotionless sadism.
Natasha’s touch brought you back from your thoughts. Her hands enclosed around your own. She stilled your movements, where you had subconsciously begin to scratch at your healed scars.
“I think you can.” She insisted, her voice soft spoken with a serious tone, “but not like this.”
Natasha turned to the sink and began filling a glass of water before placing it in front of you.
“Drink. Then we go back to bed.”
“I never went to bed.”
She looked at you with a soft sympathetic expression of understanding.
“You at least have to try.”
“I can’t.” You insisted with a shake of your head.
“How can you know that you can’t sleep if you never tried.”
“Don’t wanna.” You continued to be stubborn.
“Well, we’re gonna try again.” She promised. “Now drink.”
You gave her a doubtful upwards glance from your seat before brazenly chugging the glass of water. You handed Natasha the glass with a frown.
“Thank you.” She quipped, turning to dispose the glass into the sink.
Natasha then held her hands out to you, helping you stand as your body swayed to one side. She kept her hand in yours, probably to ensure you didn’t trip over your feet and fall on the way back up.
Instead of your dorm, Natasha lead you to hers, holding the door open for you as you stepped through. You trudged your way over to her bed, rumpled sheets indicating that that she had been lying there before finding you in the kitchen. You all but fell into her bedding, instantly comforted by the familiar scent that surrounded you as you both got comfortable.
“Sladkikh snov.”
A moment of silence passed.
“What the fuck did you just call me?” Your voice was muffled from where your face was smushed into the pillows. You heard her snort out a laugh.
“Sladkikh snov.” She repeated. “That means shut up and sleep.”
“No it doesn’t.” You insisted.
“Really?” She hummed. “When did you become fluent in Russian?”
You didn’t answer, instead choosing to glare at the back of her head.
“That’s what I thought.”
Another moment of silence passed by.
“‘M still not tired.” You insisted despite your eyes starting to feel heavy. Natasha sighed.
“Yes, you are.”
You stayed quiet. Thoughts still jumbled and unkind. You shuffled to sit up a little, freeing up your vision from the pillow. You stared at the back of her head so hard you assumed she could feel the weight of your gaze.
“I thought you were dead.” You finally admitted. After a moment she sighed lightly, shoulder drooping.
“Well I’m not,” she turned over to face you now. “We’re all safe and Ultron is gone.”
“Hm.” You breathed out, still not completely convinced of your safety. Sometimes when you looked at the Vision you saw Ultron. At least until he spoke- then he seemed like he was J.A.V.I.S. again.
“How about you try to think about anything else?”
“I try… I’ve tried to and then,” you paused. “then I think I’m still there.”
“Sokovia?”
“No.” You whispered, eyes burning with tears. You tried to blink them back as you studied the puzzled expression on her face come to one of solemn understanding.
“I did so many bad things.” Your voice wavered with the admission. “I hurt so many people.”
Natasha bit down on her lips as she took in a steady breath. The broken look on your face mirrored one she’d seen on herself many times.
“You were also just a baby.” Natasha said carefully. You were far older than a baby, but she hoped putting such a young label on you helped to drive the point home. “You no control over what those people did to you.”
Natasha knew how you felt. Ever since her encounter with Wanda Maximoff she had been plagued with memories of the Red Room. Opening fresh cuts into the old wounds she thought she had healed from.
“You’re not a bad person just because bad things happened to you or because you were forced to do bad things.”
You only blinked at her, tears quietly leaking from the corners of your eyes.
“Do you think that I’m a bad person?” She countered.
Natasha predicted your answer before you even spoke it, but she needed to hear you say the words. For your sake and her own.
“No.” You said, voice mumbled against the bedding and the hand that laid in front of your face. “I think you’re the best person.”
Natasha smiled, her own eyes stinging with unshed tears.
“Then that’s that.” She concluded.
You nodded once against the pillow.
Within minutes you were falling into the clutches of sleep.
When you stirred from your slumber, you were immediately confused. Not only did the bed feel different, the smell was different too. The warmth that encompassed your body was comforting and overpowered the curiosity of your surroundings, almost lulling you back to sleep.
After a few moments you cracked your eyes open to find a dimly lit room, sunlight mostly blocked out by curtains. Immediately you noticed the bedding you thought you were wrapped in wasn’t bedding at all.
Yelena was still asleep, resting on her side with her face tucked close to your chest. You noticed your right arm was wrapped in her grip, your left tucked underneath your pillow that she had encroached on. Her left leg was hitched upwards, crossed over your own.
You didn’t dare move, instead focusing on keeping your breathing even as you studied her face. You don’t think you had ever seen her look like this. The scowl that usually painted her features was gone and in its place was a peaceful expression. Her eyelids fluttered as she dreamt some sort of dream. You were curious to know what it was that Yelena dreamt about. Did she share the affliction of occasional nightmares?
You had gotten lost in your thoughts.
“I can feel you staring.” Yelena mumbled out. Her accent sounded heavier than usual, her voice still saturated with sleep. Your eyes widened in surprise as she caught you red handed.
“You are supposed to be sleeping.” She continued.
“It’s light outside.” You pointed out.
“Sleeping.” She reminded lightly.
Yelena still made no move to put any distance between the two of you. It made you wonder if either she was too tired to realize or if she really did not care to move at all. Despite your inner turmoil, her words seemed to have worked magic over you. Within minutes you found yourself drifting back off into a dreamless sleep.
When you awoke again, you were unsure of how many hours had passed by, but the room was a little brighter. Yelena was already awake this time and staring at the skin of your wrists. The crease in her eyes bows had returned, her lips formed a small frown.
The scarring from those chains you wore as a child were not very visible anymore, only a mild discoloration of scar tissue that was only able to be seen up close. Years of hiding them while religiously using lotions, oils and tapes had helped ease their appearance.
Sometimes you could still feel the ghost of them. Still feel the heavy weight of the metal that you were condemned to wear as a child. Still feel the bite of the roughly welded edges and the burns of irritation from when they pulled you. Still feel the cuts on your hands and knees from when they would yank the chains connected to the ankle cuffs out from under you.
You almost wanted to instinctively jerk away from her touch, but that troubled expression on her face had you locked in place. Her fingertips carefully caressed over the expanse of skin, feeling the mild difference in texture.
“I never noticed these before.” She said quietly, apparently aware you were now awake.
You hummed.
“They’re really old.” Was all you could formulate.
Your eyes were focused on where her fingers had stopped to linger. It was a spot where the metal had started to cut into your flesh after a growth spurt. The scarring was most evident there.
“Penny for your thoughts?” You opened the door for her questions. She stayed quiet for another moment.
“How did you get them?”
Your thoughts came to a halt. Unsure how to articulate your experience. You knew she’d understand. Her upbringing in the Red Room was somewhat adjacent to your own in that war camp.
“I - uh, I was used to power weapons.”
You kept your explanation vague. You had been forced to do more than just power weapons. You had assisted in the senseless torture of captives and traitors. Destroyed their enemies technology, supplies and vehicles. Even some executions.
You could see the cogs in her mind turning with the troubled expression on her face. The frown on her face deepening.
“By S.H.I.E.L.D.?” She finally questioned.
“No. This was before. I…” You sighed quietly, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I was sold to mercenaries. S.H.I.E.L.D. got me out.”
“There is nothing in your file about this.”
“Awe… You’ve read my file?” You said in a teasing voice, breaking through the heavy atmosphere.
“Of course I have.” She answered like the question was a no brainer.
“Director Fury scrubbed it.” You decided to answer. “Covered it up as a weapons bust op lead by Clint Barton.” It wasn’t a total lie. You were the weapon they were sent to retrieve.
“There’s a code word in the S.H.I.E.L.D. files where my name should be. When Natasha uploaded everything after Hydra’s involvement in S.H.I.E.L.D. was exposed I conveniently made it out scot-free.”
It wasn’t coincidence. It was careful plotting and planning by Director Fury.
Yelena stayed quiet, eyes finally climbing up to meet your stare. Her expression held something you couldn’t quite read, maybe it was regret or a sense of understanding.
“I’m sorry.”
You frowned at her apology.
“I realize that everything I assumed about you is incorrect.”
Her admission hung heavy in the air like a thick cloud of smoke.
“That is usually what happens when someone assumes things.” You shrugged it off. You’re sure you would have the same feelings if you had all your memories.
“I shouldn’t have.”
“‘S fine.”
“It’s not.” Her fingers curled around your wrist lightly.
You were used to assumptions about you. Throughout your time at the academy you had been treated differently by your peers from the start. Not just because you were so young, but because your classmates could easily fish out that you were being sponsored by high ranking agents. You from your foster rotation, trips to visit the facilities, medical appointments and testing of your electrokinesis. The treatment did not disappear from them when you graduated and were officially placed on the list of options for the Avengers roster by Director Fury. It wasn’t nepotism, more of indoctrination. During your first conversation you had with him, he gave you a choice: train with S.H.I.E.L.D. or face some indefinite imprisonment.
“You didn’t know.” You reasoned, trying to make her feel better.
“That does not make it better.”
Yelena took in a breath through her nose, lips pressed into a line.
“I know you don’t remember all of it, but I treated you terribly.” Yelena finally admitted what she had been so afraid to confront. Your airy laugh did little to quell the feeling of nerves in her stomach.
“From what I do remember, I was not very nice to you anyways.”
“No, no you don’t get it.” She was pushing herself to sit up now. You found yourself missing the close proximity. One of her hands stayed wrapped around your wrist as if she was afraid you would disappear.
“I was unfair and judged you before I knew you.”
You chuckled again, finding her opposing distress amusing compared to your nonchalance.
“Stop laughing.” She whined, the hand around your wrist shaking your arm lightly. “I am trying to apologize.”
“You don’t need to apologize.” You assured, the smile on your face brightening as you turned to lay on your back.
“I do!”
“You don’t!” You mocked her tone.
“Now it is you who is not being nice.” She chided. “Can you just accept my apology? Or you can reject it- I know I deserve it.”
“I’ll make you a deal.” You proposed.
Her eyes brightened in curiosity as she listened to your words.
“If I accept your totally unnecessary apology, you have to make me breakfast.”
“That is it?”
“Sure.” You shrugged. “At least until I remember something worth being mad at you about.”
“Deal.”
tag list: @s0urw00lf @callsignwidow @charlothee @lovesflourmorethananything @iminlesbians @loverofwomenswrongs @baylegend6 @ghostofjuliuscaesar
brand new day was so good! i would rank it as the best spider-man film out of all tom holland’s spider-man performances.
stay safe divas ! ♡ bones
how it felt seeing yelena for the first time
⠀⠀ ⠀⠀
⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⧗ ʏᴇʟᴇɴᴀ ʙᴇʟᴏᴠᴀ
⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ · · ─⠀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ ᴍᴀᴅ
· · ─ yelena hated you. you hated yelena… sort of. when you lose your memory in an accident and forget the feud, things get complicated.
⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ · · ─ ᴛʀᴀᴄᴋꜱ: __/__
· · ─ tags: yelena belova x f!reader ⋆ nondescript reader ⋆ no use of y/n ⋆ sapphic ⋆ enemies to lovers ⋆ amnesia trope ⋆ angst ⋆ blood/injury ⋆ reader was an original avenger
⋆ track one ⋆ track two ⋆ track three ⋆ track four ⋆ track five ⋆ track six ⋆ track seven ⋆ track eight ⋆ track nine ⋆ track ten ⋆ track ten and a half ⋆ track eleven ⋆ track twelve ⋆ track thirteen ⋆ track fourteen ⋆ track fifteen ⋆ track sixteen ⋆ track seventeen
▹ series mixtape ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ yelena belova m.list ⋆ ao3 ⋆ images not mine/graphics are mine ⋆ language translations from the dotcom ⋆
and thank everyone on tumblr for the lesbian spiderman au fics. i love them all. they all live in my heart.
oh hannah i wanna feel you close
oh hannah come lie with my bones
