yelena decides to go visit a place that brings her peace, only to find another there. (contains black widow and hawkeye spoilers) 1.1k
Leaning against the sink, Yelena blinks rapidly staring at her reflection. Immediately she notes the surroundings have changed, the wallpaper is different, the mirror she looks into differs entirely from mere seconds ago.
With a heavy sense of unease, she wanders out from the bathroom to see a family sitting there.
“Yelena,” The woman rises to her feet whilst her partner takes a hold of their child, backing away from the scene. “you’re back?”
“I, what’s happened?” Yelena manages to ask, bewildered by the reactions presented. “I just went in there and,” Trailing off, the woman helps her toward the couch and proceeds to explain what happened.
“And somehow, you, you’re back.” The woman chuckles in disbelief, sitting beside her old comrade after five years.
Nodding slowly, Yelena processes everything, feeling tears forming in her eyes at the realisation. “I, I have to find Natasha.” She quickly stands, her mind rushing with thoughts of her sister; her family. “Will you help me find her?”
“Of course.” The woman says, taking Yelena’s hand, squeezing it lightly.
*
It’d been a while since you’d visited. In truth, you were afraid to see it still standing there and facing the fact that she was really gone.
The look on Clint’s face when he returned alone, holding the stone in hand is one that haunts you. Hearing Natasha says with a smile ’see you in a minute’ with the hope that the plan would work still brings you to tears. Nothing’s the same, even if you were able to save everyone, you lost your best friend.
With a bunch of peonies clad in one hand, you approach the large tree and see the headstone beneath.
Bunches of flowers lay around the stone, her name embossed on the granite surface along with notes of adoration, thanks and appreciation. Most of the ink has run from the paper, now just a memory like Nat is.
“Hey, Nat,” You start, kneeling down to place the peonies in the centre of the pile, removing the withered ones aside. “of all the places, you really picked Ohio?” A chuckle sounds from you, picturing her smile at the thought, imagining her witty response. “Sorry it’s been a while, things haven’t exactly been the same since,” Trailing off, you stand back up, sensing someone else was with you.
Quickly, you turn around to see a blonde woman standing there, flowers in hand too as she stares right at you.
“Who’re you?” You’re the first to speak up, both of you keeping your ground and not daring to move first.
Few knew of Natasha’s final burial place, most left flowers near the Stark Tower.
“I could ask the same,” The blonde asks, her voice thick with a Russian accent. “why are you at Natasha’s grave?”
“What does it look like?” You quip, the tears you felt mere moments ago vanishing into anger. “I’m paying my respects for a friend, family even.” You tell the blonde, watching her shrug at your response. “And who are you to ask in the first place?”
Holding her hand up, you watch a look of realisation cross the woman’s face. “Holy Shit,” She starts. “you’re one of the Avengers aren’t you?” A laugh follows her question, one filled with sarcasm as opposed to excitement that usually follows with such.
“Yeah,” You tell her, sighing to yourself. “well, I was. I, I’m not really involved anymore.” Lowering your tone, you glance over to Natasha’s tone, seeing the words beneath her name. ’Daughter, Sister, Avenger.’
“I know who you are,” She states. “you’re Y/n. aren’t you?”
Nodding in response, the blonde steps closer. “Hold on,” You pause, paying closer attention to her. “no,” You mumble. “are you,”
The blonde raises a brow, noting the expression that mirrors the one she wore.
“Yelena?” Your voice almost cracks as Yelena’s expression changes from stubborn to sorrow. “Oh my god, you’re Nat’s sister.” A watery laugh sounds through your hands as you cover your mouth. “I, I can’t believe it.”
“You, you know who I am?” Yelena asks softly, a small frown playing on her lips.
“I, of course!” You admit. “Nat, she, she talked about you a lot. When we were on the run she told me about her sister, this amazing woman she’d turned into that she admired, and missed deeply.”
Without noticing, Yelena could feel tears fall down her cheeks.
“She really loved you, you know?” A sad smile etches itself on your face as Yelena nods to herself. “She’d be proud of you. Nat, she, she saved the world., for everyone.” Wiping away your own tears, Yelena sniffs loudly.
“I wish I got more time with her, you know?” Yelena painfully says. “You got to know her, she told me about you too. About her best friend, Y/n, the fighter with the gentle heart.”
You can’t help but chuckle at that. Of course, that’s what Nat would label you as.
“She told me we’d get on,” Yelena adds, half smiling to you. “I just wish she was here to see it all.”
Turning around, you face the grave once more as Yelena stands by your side. “What happened to her, I don’t think any of us will ever fully heal from.” You mutter, lifting your head up to see Yelena beside you with her eyes focused on the fresh peonies you placed.
“Why did she do it?” Yelena asks, knowing there are few who know the details, the truth behind her sisters death. “Clint Barton should not have let it happen, I,”
“Hey,” You interrupt her. “Clint wanted to go, I, we’ll never know what happened fully, but Natasha sacrificed herself for everyone, for Clint to have his family back and for you to come home.”
After a long silence, Yelena eventually finds her voice. “I just wish it didn’t have to be this way.”
Looking down, her fingers brush against yours lightly. “I know,” You whisper, hearing your words get lost into the breeze. “but Nat is looking over us, wherever she is.”
Yelena chuckles. “Oh, she is, probably drinking beer with that Tony Stark.”
“Sounds about right.” You add. “She’ll never be gone, not truly.”
Placing her flowers beside yours, Yelena returns to your side. “Thank you, Y/n.” She tells you. “I, I would like to hear more stories, if you have time?” Yelena asks apprehensively.
“We’re in Ohio, Yelena,” You remind her. “I’ve got all the time in the world.”
With a nod, the pair of you retreat from Natasha’s grave as the blossom on the tree blows down, clearing the last of the withered petals from her name.
Y'all, I have yet to watch the finale of hawkeye and pretty sure I will again be in my Natasha Yelena spiral so give me some comfort requests for these two characters pleasE
It could be just Natasha and yelena or Natasha yelena and sister reader.
So a while back I learnt that Yelena was aroace in the comics but in the MCU I only felt like she was ace and not “canonically” aromantic.
Which was why I never implied about anything sexual happening between Yelena and the reader in my fics but still kept them romantic.
But I see how unconsciously erasing the aro part of her can feel degrading to the aroace community, which I truly never wanted. So from now on, I will only write for Yelena x reader if the request is platonic or if it is about a queerplatonic relationship.
Again, im sorry if I offended anyone with my Yelena x Reader fics.
It’s that time again where I ask for requests. I’ve also decided to add Yelena to the people I’m writing for, BUT I will not write about anything from the Black Widow movie because of spoilers to people who haven’t watched it yet. Down below I will put my masterpost which has everything you need for requests! Anyways I’ll tag the people I write for and all! Have a great day/night!
Natasha: There is no future. there is no past. do you see? Time is simultaneous, an intricately structured jewel that humans insist on viewing one edge at a time, when the whole design is visible in every facet.
y/n:
Yelena:
Wanda:
Everyone Else At Natasha’s Surprise Birthday Party:
y/n: All I asked was if you wanted to cut your birthday cake first.
hey guys! i opened up requests again and added a ko-fi if you want to support my work. if not, notes, reblogs and comments still make my day! :D also, i’ve decided, at least temporarily, to stop writing for dc. have a nice day y'all
requests are ✨ open ✨ for all mcu & xmcu women :-)
hey guys! i opened up requests again and added a ko-fi if you want to support my work. if not, notes, reblogs and comments still make my day! :D also, i’ve decided, at least temporarily, to stop writing for dc. have a nice day y'all
SUMMARY: My new girlfriend takes meeting the relatives to a whole new level.
It’s cloudy up ahead, but patches of sunlight leak through certain gaps like chinks in the sky's armour, and a warm silver lines the clouds as the sun sets behind them. There are no pink or orange hues in the sunset this cloudy evening, just tinted blue and cream with grey mountains in the distance and muted coloured trees at their bases. I have one hand on the wheel of the car Yelena and I just bought together, a sleek black Fiesta, and the other on my partner in crime’s thigh. She has her window rolled down, the high speed we’re going at blowing her golden hair everywhere. I drum my fingertips along the wheel as an upbeat song starts to play.
She’s lost in the clouds, I can tell. I ask her if she’s imagining pictures out of the white puffs, but either the roaring wind at one ear or the song at her other is blocking her from hearing my words.
I squeeze her thigh. She smacks my hand and glances sideways at me, mossy green eyes playful. I allow myself a single glance before looking back at the road. “I asked what you’re seeing in the clouds.”
She turns the radio dial down. “What?”
I snort. “Nevermind.”
“You wanted attention?”
I flip her the bird, earning a boisterous laugh from her. “You were!”
I mimic her accent in a high-pitched voice. “You were totally like, give me attention! Because I’m Yelena Belova and I’m so special!”
“I don’t sound like that,” she objects. “You once said, and I quote, ‘your voice is deep and sexy, like if a dressage horse could speak.’”
I frown. “I don’t remember that. Was I drunk?”
“You were trying to outdrink me.”
“Oh. Were you cheating? I don’t black out that easily.”
“No, I wasn’t. And yes, you do.”
I grumble and turn the radio up again. She hums along to the song, Snap Out Of It by the Arctic Monkeys. We drive until the sun goes down, or at least until I notice her energetic nature die down like a used battery. I search up the nearest motel on my phone and by the time I’ve pulled in, she’s asleep.
I switch the engine off and relax into my seat. I allow myself a few seconds to admire the girl beside me.
I met her through a friend of mine, who lived in the apartment beside hers. I’d visit frequently, and she noticed and eventually grew tired of me oggling her everytime I passed her on the way out. So she coerced me into drinking too much red wine and then sent me over to her door, drunk and giggling.
I didn’t know much about her past. She’s from Russia, and she sometimes jokes that she’s actually a trained assassin. She grew up in a foster home, got close with a girl named Natalia, who ended up living in the Big Apple as a high school teacher with a husband who renovates houses. She calls her every other week before bed, I think, when I spend the night and she thinks I’m asleep. I never hear what they’re saying, but I enjoy falling into slumber listening to the soft hum of her voice through the plaster walls.
I admire her small, round, button nose, the even slope of her jawline, her long lashes that brush against her subtly tanned skin. We’ve only been dating for two months, but I’m positive I’m im love with her. We haven’t exchanged those words yet, though. The car is actually our first and only big step.
I gently shake her shoulders to wake her up, and she grumbles sleepily as she shifts and peeks up at me. “Where are we?”
“Motel. Didn’t feel like driving home. Come on, lazy bones, let’s get you a pillow.”
Once we’re settled in a room, stripped of jeans and bras so we’re just wearing shirts and underwear, I drift off with my head on her shoulder and my hand wrapped around her stomach.
When I wake up, the first thing I notice is the dried drool in the corner of my mouth. I don’t think much of it other than the teasing I’d endure in the morning when Yelena finds out I drooled on her.
I pull her closer and then frown.
I am holding a pillow.
My girlfriend is not said pillow.
I rub my eyes and sit up. It’s still dark outside, and the clock on my phone reads three in the morning. I scan the room for her figure, but I can’t see her silhouette lingering in any of the shadowed corners. I frown and push the duvet off of my body, shivering slightly as I maneuver around the bed and into the bathroom.
No sign of her.
I’m starting to get worried.
Quickly, I grab my jeans — at least I think they’re mine — and force my legs through them. I slip my phone in my pocket and head to the door.
It’s locked, which doesn’t make sense, because my current assumption that Yelena had gone out for a quick smoke would mean that she wouldn’t have gone far enough to warrant locking the door.
I swallow down the bad feeling in my gut and step outside.
The upper wrap-a-round level of the motel showed no people in sight. I head to the stairs and down to the front desk, where a young man with purple streaks in his hair sits, droopy-eyed and scrolling mindlessly through his phone.
“Um, excuse me, sir?” I ask tentatively, rubbing the goosebumps off my arms. I hadn’t brought my jacket.
His eyes flick up to meet mine. “Sir? You’re friendlier than your girlfriend.”
“I’m assuming you mean the blonde, very pretty, homicidal-looking woman I came in with?”
He sighs, turning his phone down. “Look, this is a motel. Things like this happen a lot. My advice is to run before the wife sees you.”
I stare at him blankly.
He stares back.
“Uh, what?”
“A tall redheaded woman came by, stole your girl for a talk. They were squabbling about you. I assumed … oh. You didn’t know. Well, who knows, could be a relative or something.”
My heart hammers against my ribcage wildly. I have to keep reminding myself that Yelena loves me, that she wouldn’t cheat on me, or cheat on anyone else with me, or … I feel myself becoming pale. Her scars, I’d never thought much of them, but with her mysterious past, and this mysterious paramour? She was running away from the woman who had now found her.
“Where did they go?” I demand, anger rushing through my veins.
He shakes his head, looking sympathetic. "I’ve seen this play out before, trust me when I say you don’t want to confront—"
“Tell me where they went or I will make you swallow your own fist.”
He recoils. "Christ, fine, they’re in the parking lot. For the record, I hope you get a good slappin’!“
I speed walk out of the motel and around the back, adrenaline rushing. I stop when I spot two figures under a streetlight by my car, one taller and waving her arms around as she speaks and the other, unmistakably my Yelena, glaring up with her arms crossed.
I march over to them. Their heads snap in my direction almost immediately. The redheaded woman pulls out a gun and aims it at me.
I yelp and freeze, hands up in surrender. Yelena yells something in Russian and smacks the weapon out of her hands before rushing towards me. ”(Y/N), what are you doing?“
"We’re leaving,” I say, completely freaked out. “Right now. You run, tell the guy in the office to call 911. I’ll fight her off.”
“What? No! (Y/N), this is my sister! She’s just paranoid.”
I gape at her. “I thought she was a science teacher!”
“I told you we should have met somewhere else,” the redhead hisses.
Yelena spits back in Russian.
“No, no Russian! Explanation, now!” I turn to the woman. “You’re Natalia?”
“Natasha.”
“Okay, Natasha the science teacher who owns a gun, what are you doing here?”
Her lips tighten into a fine line. “I’m not a science teacher, I’m an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., and I wasn’t expecting Yelena to have company when I came here to drag her back home.”
Yelena starts spurting more angry Russian words that mean nothing to me as I try to process what’s happening. The two sisters argue for a solid two minutes while I decide I must be dreaming.
The lies. The scars. The mystery. The jokes about being an assassin.
This is a living nightmare.
I turn and walk away.
Yelena calls out, "(Y/N)! Wait!“
I don’t stop until I’ve reached our room, where I promptly grab my jacket and bra and shove them in my bag.
”(Y/N), don’t leave,“ Yelena begs when she catches up, blocking the doorway with her body. "Let me explain, love, please.”
“Get out of my way,” I snap.
She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t turn around as she closes the door and backs up against it as if to provide another barrier between me and the world she’s trying to hide.
“Yelena,” I warn.
“Let me explain,” she pleads.
I stare her down, but she doesn’t seem to be budging any time soon. I drop my bag on the floor and sit on the bed with my arms crossed, glaring at her. “Fine. Enlighten me.”
She slowly eases away from the door. “I didn’t lie to you about everything. I’m one hundred percent Russian, and I consider Natalia to be my sister, and we did grow up together. But we were trained together, too. As assassins.”
“Fuck,” I mutter.
She kneels down in front of me. “I got away from that life, I swear. And I met you and everything after that was the realist thing I’d ever had. I really love video games, and I really love your pancakes, and I really, really love you.”
My glare softens.
“Even if you can’t cook,” she says.
I give her a semi-playful, semi-annoyed shove.
“You said be honest, don’t hit me!”
I stand up and pace the room nervously. This time, she sits down on the bed. I mutter under my breath, gnawing on my thumbnail, until, finally, I sit down beside her.
“Okay, deal breaker. Do you know Captain America?”
After the Blip, after Natasha, after everyone came back.
Perhaps that was why Yelena was so drawn to you.
Both of you came back from ashes to a terrible, strenuous fresh start.
You knew nothing of the Red Room
and Yelena knew nothing of the life you left behind.
All you had were the memories of your past lives and relatively clean slates when you met.
There was a park, near where Natasha was buried.
After Yelena would visit her sister’s grave, she would sit on a bench to people watch.
Sometimes Val would accompany her, gift her with some new bounty
other times, on rarer occasions, they would just sit in silence together.
Most often, Yelena was alone,
eyes flicking around the playground, to watch mothers and fathers corral their children, to the wide open field next to it, watching owners corral their dogs.
Fanny would watch too, ears perked.
Sometimes the shepherd mix would whimper, wanting to play with her fellow furry friends.
“Not today, Fanny,” Yelena cooed, scratching the pups head.
Yet, one day, Fanny continued to whine.
Big, brown eyes flicked up to Yelena, distracting the blonde from her surroundings.
“What is it, baby?” Yelena cooed, “what’s wrong?”
Spurred on by her voice, Fanny got to her feet and turned her attention towards the dog park.
Yelena followed her dog’s gaze but saw nothing.
Nothing until a ball of white, curly fluff hurled towards them both, pink tongue poking out from tiny jaws.
Yelena almost started laughing when the miserable little thing stopped short of Fanny and began to yap as threateningly as it could.
The creature was bordering on annoying when you rushed up.
You looked wild, arms outstretched towards the little white dog in a vain attempt to hold it back and away from Fanny.
“I’m so sorry, I don’t-I’m dogsitting! Bubbles, stop it!”
“Bubbles?” Yelena asked, a laugh slipping past her lips. “It’s name is Bubbles?”
You too began to laugh, a melodious sound that rung out, even over Bubbles’ incessant yapping.
“Yeah, his owner said it was ironic,” you explained through a chuckle, picking up Bubbles and holding him to your chest.
“Ironic cause he’s not so bubbly?” Yelena asked and you nodded.
“Exactly,” it was then your eyes landed on Fanny, “what’s that cuties’ name?”
“This,” Yelena said, patting the shepherd’s head, “is Fanny.”
“Fanny,” you echoed with a smile, “I’ve never heard that one before.”
“It’s a family name,” Yelena added, though her smile began to die, victim to memory.
“That’s sweet.”
A moment passed, with just you and Yelena staring at each other
all the while Bubbles wormed around in your grasp.
Yelena was struck by how soft you looked with the park and sunlight cast behind you.
There was no harshness in your face, not the kind she was used to.
“Do you…do you and Bubbles want to sit?”
“Uh, yeah, yeah. Thanks.”
You fell into the seat at her side and, almost immediately, Fanny went to sniffing at Bubbles who still wormed around in your lap.
“Sit, Fanny,” Yelena warned, “be nice to our guests.”
“It’s alright,” you said, tilting your head towards Bubbles. “He seems to be less angry now that he’s so close.”
“All bark, no bite, huh?” Yelena asked, holding out a hand for Bubbles.
There was a gentleness in her manner that caught you, that reminded you that you didn’t know this lovely person’s name.
“I’m Y/N, by the way.”
“Yelena,” she returned with a smile.
“Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Yelena returned, “and that extends to Bubbles as well.”
You laughed, just as you did for the next few hours.
Together, you and Yelena (along with Bubbles and Fanny) wasted time together, got to know each other, and laughed.
It had been so long since Yelena had laughed
and since you returned from ash, it had been so long since you had allowed yourself to be comfortable around someone.
Spending time together was easy.
You both bonded over being gone in the Blip, how you came back to empty homes and lost loved ones.
You explained how you came back unemployed, with a family far older than when you left them.
“It was hard, getting back to things. Hence the dogsitting.”
“Hence the dogsitting. Is Bubbles your only client?”
“Right now, yeah,” you admitted, much too shyly.
“Well, my work tends to take me out of town. You could watch Fanny.”
“Really? I’d love to! She’s so well behaved!”
Yelena swallowed hard and, for the first time in her life, struggled to muscle up some courage. “Is…Is there a number I should call?”
“Here, you can just use my number.”
You gave Yelena your number and gave her a smile.
“But, enough about me. What about you? How were things post-Blip for you?”
A heavy sigh slipped past Yelena’s lips.
“You don’t have to…”
“No, I…I want to. It’s just a lot.”
“Well, Bubbles isn’t due back for a while,” you said with a smile, “so take all the time you need.”
Eventually, Yelena told you.
She told you about her training, in the vaguest of details.
She told you about Natasha, in the vaguest details.
“I’m so sorry,” you whimpered, resting your hand on hers. “Have you talked to anyone about it?”
Yelena met your gaze and felt her heart twinge at the concern in your eyes.
“Just you, really.”
“Oh, well. I’m glad you feel that you can.”
“Sorry for just dumping that on you. You have your own things and…”
“No, don’t be sorry,” you pressed, “it’s alright.”
You and Yelena sat on the bench until the park began to close until dusk kissed the sky a pinkish-orange.
“You probably need to get back, yeah?”
You glanced at the sky, then your phone, before turning back to Yelena. “Yeah, I better be going.”
“Let Fanny and I walk you out of the park at least,” Yelena said, standing.
You couldn’t refuse, you didn’t want to refuse.
You wanted to spend more time with Yelena,
and she wanted to spend more time with you.
So, you walked and talked, took the long way through the park until you reached the exit.
“So, uh, give me a text, when you need Fanny to watch. Or just text me whenever.”
“I will,” Yelena replied with a smile. “Thanks, for…for sitting with me.”
“Thanks for offering the spot,” you returned.
That day, you and Yelena went your separate ways but became attached forever.
Throughout the next few weeks, you and Yelena exchanged texts.
Simple ‘Hello! How are you?’ and ‘Might need your dogsitting services soon’.
Each time you got a text from her (or vice versa), a larger conversation would take hold.
Digital message by digital message, you and Yelena peeled away parts of yourselves.
It got to the point where, when the time finally came for you to watch Fanny while Yelena went away to work, itfelt more like meeting a friend.
You met up at the park, near the same bench where you sat together when you first met.
Anxiety drove you to leave earlier, far earlier than you needed to.
You arrived fifteen minutes earlier than you needed to, but it seemed Yelena did as well.
A smile crept along your features when you saw her and Fanny making their way towards the bench.
She smiled at you in return and Fanny, much to your surprise, picked up her pace and pulled Yelena faster towards you.
“Hey!”
“Hi!”
Fanny nipped playfully at your extended hands, her puppy-like excitement making you laugh.
“Someone’s happy to see me again, huh?”
“I am too,” Yelena chuckled, “Fanny just likes to show off.”
Your face burned in the soft heat of her compliment before you straightened your posture and bid Fanny to settle.
“Speaking of seeing people again, how long is this work trip of yours?”
Yelena’s beaming expression shifted at your question; her eyes grew almost darker, lips fell from her smile and into an unreadable flat line.
“No more than four days.”
Suddenly feeling the need for levity, you added in a chuckle, “short trip, huh?”
“I’m good at my job, so I only needfour days.”
You smiled at Yelena’s confidence, and she smiled too when she noticed your expression.
Though, you were not so lost in her softness to realize that you had no idea what Yelena did for work.
“What do you do?”
“I…meet people. See how they act if they’re good. Good for business.”
“Like a networker?”
“Sure, a networker.”
Another moment of soft silence fell over you and Yelena.
Though, when Fanny began to lick lovingly at your palms, your attention diverted to the pup.
You cooed at her, tried to get calm down…to no avail.
Yelena let out a huff of amusement at the sight that brought your eyes back to hers.
You swore you saw her cheeks pinken before she flicked her gaze to her wrist, which had a very tactical-looking watch wrapped around it.
“I have a flight to catch so…”
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” you said, nudging Fanny towards her owner.
Yelena crouched down so that she was eye-level with Fanny.
Her hands reached out, cupping the dog’s face before scratching behind her ears.
“Now, you behave. Listen to Y/N, make sure you leave a good impression for me, okay?”
Fanny licked her jowls and tilted her head up to Yelena’s as if to agree to her terms.
Satisfied, the blonde stood up and met your eyes again.
“I texted you my address so when you’re done with this walk you can drop her off. She doesn’t need to be in her crate, but it’s there if she gets too…too rowdy.”
“What about her food?”
“It’s in the laundry room, on the shelf. It’s the room at the end of the hall with the door shut. Two scoops after every walk.”
“Okay, great. I’ll text you if I run into any problems.”
Yelena smiled and nodded before her expression melted into stark realization.
“You’ll probably need this,” she said, rummaging through one of her pants pockets to pull out a copy of her keys.
“And this, probably,” she added, holding out the handle of Fanny’s leash and her key.
As you reached out towards Yelena’s extended hand, your fingertips brushed together
and the touch sent a wonderful, tickling shock through your body.
Quickly, you pulled your hand away, scared you might give too much away.
Too much of what, you weren’t sure;
all you knew was that you weren’t ready for whatever it was to come out yet.
“Well, uh,” you cleared your throat, “have a nice flight, and fun…networking.”
“Thanks, and thanks for taking care of my girl.”
“It’s my pleasure,” you returned, smiling at the affection Yelena had for her companion. “She’s a good one.”
Yelena nodded before she turned her back and speedily walked down the street.
You watched her go for a long moment, watched until her blonde head of hair disappeared out of the park.
When she was gone, you glanced to Fanny who, with big brown eyes (that strangely reminded you of her owner’s), looked up back at you.
“Miss her already?”
Fanny wriggled at your side.
You took that as a ‘yes’.
“She’ll be back, sooner than you know it,” you said, leaning down to scratch her head. “C’mon, let’s finished up your walk.”
For the next two days, Fanny was a perfect angel.
You would walk her in the mornings, at midday, in the afternoon, and once more at night.
Each time, you would take her back to Yelena’s apartment and marvel at the little home the young woman had made for herself.
Yelena’s apartment was sparsely decorated but warm.
Dark red furniture rested on hardwood floors, which looked in need of refurbishing and surrounded an ornately detailed rug.
A few neglected house plants dotted the windowsill and were tucked into dusty corners.
Ferns in the kitchenette that, you imagined, was once full of green leaves long since dried into a terrible, motley brown.
The kitchenette was also sparse, not that you snooped.
Well, you did but…you just needed water on the third day, for the plants.
There was hardly anything in Yelena’s fridge or food in her cabinets.
You resorted to tap water, poured it carefully out of a measuring cup and into the plant pots.
So, along with taking care of Fanny, you began to take care of Yelena’s fauna.
You thought you were a little late on that front, that Yelena would be back the next day and your idle watering would do nothing.
But then, Yelena didn’t come back.
You texted her late in the next evening, worried.
Sat on her couch, with Fanny resting her head on your lap, you waited to hear from the Russian blonde.
At some point you fell asleep and, at some other point, you resigned to your new role as Fanny’s (and the plant’s) extended caretaker.
You stayed over at her place most nights, worried that Fanny may realize her missing momma.
In that time, you also grew to know Yelena, in a way.
You had a feeling her favorite color was yellow, based on the decor in her bedroom; that she liked poetry; that she, seemingly, didn’t have much family.
Walking the dog and watering the plants became fixtures in your life for the next week.
You went to the police station to file a missing person report, but they had no file or record of any Yelena Belova.
At the start of the second week, you began to research what else you could do, how else you could try to locate her.
When you hit a wall and your gut grew too heavy with dread, you pulled away from your computer.
To distract yourself, you walked over to the plants, checked the soil, smiled, bittersweetly at the newly green leaves.
Just as you brushed your fingertips along the edges of the ferns, the front door of Yelena’s apartment burst open.
You yelped and jumped around to stare at the intruder.
Fanny barked but suddenly stopped.
You understood why for, when your eyes landed on a haggard-looking Yelena, you felt your own jaw go slack.
“I’m home.”
Fanny darted towards her, knocking the blonde to the ground.
“Hey girl, hey,” she said, wincing as her furry companion stepped on her legs and torso.
Wordlessly, you walked towards the reunited unit and tried to coax Fanny away so Yelena could stand.
“Thanks,” the blonde said, barely looking up at you.
Again wordlessly, you reached down a hand towards her.
Yelena took it and you helped her to her feet.
It was then she met your eyes.
Purple and angry, a bruise painted the side of her face.
You gasped but the surprise of splotch did nothing to dull the shock of relief that raced through you.
You reached out to hug her, but your lips knocked against her as you did in a terrible, teeth-knocking excuse of a kiss.
“Oh, sorry!” you exclaimed, immediately stepping back.
Yet, Yelena had other plans, her hands reached out for you, your hips pulled you back to her.
The next time your lips met was softer, slower, with no knocking.
Your hands curled into fists, gripping the material of her thick jacket.
When she pulled away, Yelena sighed, “I’m sorry I took so long.”
“Getting back or kissing me?”
“Both.”
Yelena didn’t lie to you then, about what it was that she did as a ‘job’.
And she apologized for lying before.
“Telling people that I…it’s…does it change…things? Change…”
“This?” You asked, gesturing at yourself then at Yelena, “no, not really. I’d still like to know you, help you figure a way out.”
“Y/N, a way out is dangerous, not possible, not really.”
“But you said you broke free before, with the help of your sister.”
Yelena’s sad eyes brightened and a smile, small but there, spread along her lips.
“I can help, like how I helped with your plants. Alright?”
“Alright.”
Then was the start of a new sort of life.
Life became softer but sharped all at once.
Yelena would take you out on dates to expensive places, places that never seemed to fit quite right with the two of you (except for on special occasions).
Most of the time, you would research a new dive in some downtown area that you and Yelena could waste together in over dinner.
“See, better than the snails, right?”
“I still don’t understand why someone would want to eat a snail.”
You laughed, but not at her sincerity.
That was one of the many things you loved about Yelena,
she was always honest.
You surmised that was why she was the first to say it.
One a nightly walk to the park, with Fanny trailing alongside, Yelena pulled you over to the bench you both sat on the day you met.
“Why are we stopping? It’s a bit chilly out.”
“I could give you my coat, if you want.”
“Don’t be silly,” you pressed, “then you’ll freeze.”
“I want to keep you warm,” she said, her free hand reaching up to cup your face.
The fabric of her glove scratched lightly at the skin of your cheek, but it felt like home nonetheless.
You looked into her eyes and saw only sincerity.
“I love you,” she murmured, her voice nearly hidden in the Autumn breeze.
“I love you too.”
Walking Fanny together through the park, to the place where you met became a tradition after that, nightly little escapes into each other.
Though, due to her line of work, things weren’t always so great.
Sometimes, all you had was Fanny’s company and the silent rustling of the plants in Yelena’s apartment when she was away.
Seeing her with bruises never got easy,
nor did missing her.
But she always came back to you.
Spending the night over at Yelena’s also became a tradition,
more like a habit that you couldn’t break.
A habit that you didn’t want to break.
You would end the night tangled in her embrace and wake up the same way, with kisses being pressed to your neck, your collar, your jaw.
“Morning.”
And what a good morning it would be.
It always was
for despite the wildness of Yelena’s life, the danger, it was Yelena’s.
It’s Yelena’s kind-of-day-off, yet she always seems to find a way to weave her work into her free-time. Sometimes, like this time, it works out in your favor.
“Come back to bed.”
“Shush,” Yelena waved a dismissive hand at you, her back still turned to you and the bed. “I thought I heard something.”
With a defeated sigh, you fell back against your pillow to wait for her eventual return. Early rays of sunlight peeked through the window of the room the two of you rented out the night before and shone almost directly into your eyes. To escape it, you pressed your face into the pillow and turned away from the light. As you moved, you noted how the glow exposed the less-than-lovely water stains on the ceiling and the fine layer of dust that covered the small table in the corner of the room. At the sight, your nose scrunched up as if to block the threat of a sneeze.
Despite that, the room was not the worst place you and Yelena had been housed in. Though, you had stayed at farfiner establishments. At places where specks of dust were viewed as vermin to be exterminated. There were times where you missed the luxury that came with that level of care and cleanliness.
But you knew better than to ask for an upgrade. The first, and last, time you dared to question the quality of your and Yelena’s housing, Val shut you down with a mere glare. After that, you never even endeavored to ask whyyou stayed at a certain location. Granted, most of the time, the advantage was clear.
For instance, you once camped in the concrete skeleton of an abandoned apartment complex, situated across the street from Yelena’s mark. While you never quite grew used to the presence of rats, the target never saw the end coming. Yelena was able to watch him through the windows, stalking along the cement ridges and metal frames that would be deconstructed by a demolition crew soon after you left.
Then, there was the time you and Yelena slept in the silk sheets of a highrise suite. You don’t remember leaving that bed all too often during that mission. If you and Yelena did venture out beyond the edge of the California King mattress, it was to lounge on the balcony to listen and watch the life flowing through the city until sunset. Yelena always worked best in the dark.
There was no balcony at this motel, aside from the one that the stairs led up to reach the second level of rooms. You and Yelena were booked a room on the first floor, with a neighbor above you that insisted on stomping while they packed for their early morning departure. Even with one ear pressed against numerous layers of fabric, you could hear their thumping around.
“It’s probably the person upstairs,” you grumbled into the pillow.
Yelena shushed you again as she peeked inside the adjoining bathroom. A long, too quiet moment passed and you felt a shock of nerves settle in your stomach. Tentatively, you pushed yourself up and off of the bed. Fear guided your feet silently to the carpeted floor as you craned your neck to look for Yelena. It was tooquiet.
“Lena?” You called out softly, your voice cutting through the sudden quiet.
When you got no reply, you padded closer to the bathroom door. Your fingers curled tight into your palms, creating a pair of perfect fighting fists. Yelena had drilled you on the proper form in the past. To defend yourself, she had said; though, back then, you never imagined a time where she wouldn’t be by your side.
Now, you were all too aware of how alone you were. Apprehension was your only ally as you called out again, firmer this time, “Yelena?”
Another long beat of silence surrounded you, overwhelmed your senses with nothingness, before the bathroom door suddenly flew open. The stopper on the wall met the metal handle with a loud thud that made you jump.
“What?” Yelena asked, face blank and unamused until her brown eyes fell upon your curled fists. Then, her lips quickly quirked upwards into a wide, mischievous grin. “Were you worried about me, dorogoy?”
Exasperated, you dropped your unclenched your fists, dropped them to your sides, and scowled. “You weren’t answering!”
“Izvinit’, sorry,” Yelena said as she stepped closer to you, her focus trained on your hands. “But show me the stance again.”
There was an edge in her voice that nearly sent a shiver down your spine. Luckily, Yelena seemingly didn’t notice as her fingers found yours and raised your hands up. When you met her eyes, you found her grin faded into a softer, less-teasing smile. Was it pride?
“Show me,” she echoed, her gaze unyielding. Her tone wasn’t forceful, but you felt yourself compelled to concede.
You raised your hands and closed them into tight fists once more, even going as far as to bring them close to your head. Between your raised arms, Yelena was perfectly framed. Her eyes drank in your stance, studied your pose, the placement of your thumb. You couldn’t help but smile at her intense attention to detail.
“What do you think?” You asked, putting on your best Russian accent. Yelena’s brow raised at your attempt and your smile widened slightly. “No good?”
“Your accent is terrible, beyond help,” she mused, hands reaching out to resituate how you held your arms. “But your stance is…it’s good. Could use some work, but it’s good.”
“Well, you’re the one who taught me, so,” you trailed off, leaving for words open as an invitation for training, for a lesson. Or a lesson.Yelena leaned back and gave you a knowing look before she began to circle around you, surveying you.
You could feel the heat of her eyes on you, analyzing your posture. Despite your desire to go back to bed and drag Yelena with you, you remained still. There would be time for that later. Plus, either way, you were with Yelena and enjoying time together. Either way, Yelena’s hands would be on you.
“You have to stand with your dominant side foot farther back and apart, so you can pivot when you punch. Here, scoot this back,” she said, tapping your foot with her own. You stepped back but Yelena shook her head. “No, too far. Now you’re vulnerable for a sweep.”
“A sweep? What is-”
“This,” Yelena interrupted, swinging her leg out to strike yours. There wasn’t any pain, only the feeling of your leg giving out beneath you.
Then, there was the falling. Red and dingey, the carpet of the hotel room floor rushed up at you. Just as a yelp of surprise began to slip past your lips, Yelena’s leg, the one that illustrated was a ‘sweep’ was, swung back around and bumped you again. With the strike, you were tipped backwards rather than forwards and to the side. Your change in direction gave Yelena the opportunity to reach out and catch you.
Her hands grasped your hips, pulling your body flush to hers. At the contact, your hammering heart slowed, calmed by the warmth of her arms around you. You fight whiplash to meet Yelena’s eyes and, when you finally met her gaze you saw that her grin has forced crinkles in the corners of them.
“That’s a sweep,” she beamed.
“Uh-huh,” you replied breathlessly, “I figured.”
Almost immediately, Yelena’s grin melted into an expression of concern. Her brow furrowed and her lips parted, while her hands squeezed your hips. “I didn’t hurt you did I, I was just-”
To silence her worry, you leaned forwards and kissed her. Your hands traveled up from Yelena’s arms to cup her face. The smooth skin of her cheeks filled your palms. That was what you loved most about her: she was soft despite it all. She loved and cared, despite being a Widow; despite being able to land you on your ass in an instant.
You pulled away slowly and smiled when Yelena’s eyes remained closed. “Thanks for the lesson.”
Yelena smiled then, her eyes opening wide enough to drink your look of pleased surprise as she lifted you off your feet and carried you back to bed, at last.
You find yourself sitting by Yelena after a long day, checking post-battle injuries. Some wounds run deeper than they seem.
BLACK WIDOW SPOILERS
It was only when the jet took off did you feel it. The ache of a battle well fought. It was a familiar, dull pain; you may have considered it an old friend. Certainly your travel companions did.
You studied their sullen faces as you teetered your way towards the back section of seating. Decked out in her suit combat garb was Yelena, attention fixed on the window. You felt your lips pull up a little at the sight, at your girl. The almost-smile lingered as you moved to take the seat beside her.
“Scoot over,” you muttered, limbs suddenly and cripplingly tired.
As you sat, you budged Yelena’s shoulder softly with your elbow. Her dark eyes met your gaze the second your arms collided. There was a warmth to her expression, despite the distant glint in her stare. It was then you saw the bruise that bathed her eye socket in a budding purple, framed it with finely carved cuts. Your mouth fell open at the sight and you quickly reached out to cup her jaw.
“What happened to your face?”
“It’s nothing,” Yelena murmured, trying to pull away from your touch. “I fell from the sky. Bruises are bound to happen, especially in our line of work.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that your eye will swell shut if we don’t ice it.”
“And you want to ask themif they have any ice?” Yelena asked, tipping her heads towards the other Widows sat around you. You frowned at them, the fear in their faces. It must be the first time they’ve felt a fear like that, a freedom too. When you looked back to Yelena, there was a bitter knowing set in her features.
“No,” you murmured, letting your hands fall from her jaw. “But as soon as we land-”
“As soon as we land we’ll find some ice.”
You frowned at her pursed lips but said nothing more. Instead, you watched as Yelena stared out of the jet’s window and watched the details of the Earth grow muddier and muddier. Trees blended into nondescript masses of green, broken up only by strips of grey and squares of farmed brown foliage. None of that held the attention of her dark eyes for very long.
Yelena was looking for her sister, despite how you both knew Melina had guided the jet far past the landing zone of the Red Room. Natasha was gone.
At the thought, your frown deepened and you could not help but lean towards Yelena again. Her body’s warmth eased the ache in your muscles, though, as soon as you nudged her and tilted away, the feeling fled. Yelena’s eyes flicked back to yours, set under heavy brows. There was a quiet question between her lips. What was that for?
“You’ll see her again, in time.”
“A lot can happen, in time,” Yelena countered, “a world could end, a secret base could fall from the sky, and a few dozen girls with it.”
“Well, those things are just bound to happen, especially in our line of work.”
Yelena’s lips quirked upwards slightly, for only a moment. “Just like bruises.”
You nodded and held your out, resting the back of it on your knee. Open and wanting, your palm waited for Yelena’s touch. The blonde eyed it before she let her gloved fingers intertwine with your bear ones. The fabric was rough against your skin, but the same warmth you felt emanating from Yelena’s body flowed through the weave and kissed your palm. As it did before, her heat melted away the lingering ache.
“Just like bruises, you’ll move past the end of the world, or whatever threat comes next. You always do. You’ll see her again.”
“Will you be with me?” At the soft timidness of Yelena’s voice, you, quickened by shock, lifted your eyes from your joined hands and to her eyes. All the distance that she once held in her gaze was gone, cut short. She was close to you, then, terribly so. It took every last bit of your strength to keep from leaning into her.
“Of course.”
Yelena’s posture straightened then, only slightly, and her expression lifted out of the firm-lined seriousness she wore moments before. “Good.”
It was all she said and all she had to say. There would be time for more later. Now was for taking care of wounds, old and new, and rest. Plenty of rest.
There was no need to tell Yelena that she should try to sleep. Years of training and missions had taught her to rest whenever possible. You couldn’t imagine the hardships she faced, the loneliness. She had been left behind after all, just as you all left Natasha behind. No wonder she spared one last glance out of the window before she turned herself inward again.
You both sat in silence, trying to coax your minds to give in to your bodies’ cries for sleep. Yelena’s caved first. Her head knocked against your shoulder before she settled in the crook of your neck. Her frame yielded and pressed warmly against yours, pushing you off the edge and into the dark behind your own eyelids.
