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amnxp · 2 months ago

Text

I'll see you in a minute

Pairing: Yelena Belova x fem!Reader

Summary: The Thunderbolts needed help with bringing Bob back to reality, so Bucky turned to one of his closest friend for help. Too bad that Yelena seems to absolutely hate your guts and despise the very idea of you breathing the same air in the same vicnicity as her because now you are all the Avengerz.

Word Count: 10k (oops i went overboard)

Warning: enemies to lovers, angst, panic attacks(yelena), eventual mention of smut(kept short n sweet), almost kissing, wounds, fighting yk the usual, miscommunication cuz thats lowk my fav trope n lotssss of yearning and almosts, also lowk bucky x reader but only for one single scene so

!THUNDERBOLTS SPOILERS AHEAD AS WELL AS BLACKWIDOW SPOILERS!

Continuation:Unrequited love

A/N: saw a post saying they needed an enemies to lovers slowburn yelena fic and i knew i just HAD to write this be i have been meaning to make a longer fic so i went overboard i am SO sorry but it just had to come out one way or anotheeTwT anyways REACHED 50 FOLLOWERS THANKYOU SO MUCH!!!! This means a lot to me you have no idea bc like damn 50 ppl like what i write thats crazy omgomg This took weeks to write so i hope it wont flop too bad, all likes comments and reblogs are more than apreciated!!iterally!!!you guys have no idea how much actually. Also, today is my birthday!!! Happy birthday to me this shall be my gift go you guys:))

Alright toodles:>

Masterlist

!English is not my native language!

If someone had told you a week ago that you'd be sharing a shaggy, run-down Uber car with the Thunderbolts, you'd have laughed, rolled your eyes, and gone back to your warm bed. But here you were—strapped in between John Walker and Ghost, watching the streets blur past the window, and pretending Yelena Belova wasn't glaring holes through your skull from across the damn runway of a car.

 Bucky owed you. Big time.

When Bucky had barged in a few hours prior into your little apartment, you were lounging on your couch, half asleep, half awake, with a shirt that you barely managed to get on before you collapsed out of exhaustion, with a thin blanket on you which quite literally almost flew off because of his aggressive: “Get up right now!” followed with his harsh tug on your blanket. “What the actual fuck, Barnes?” —half of your sentence came out slurred because you were still somewhat in another world as Bucky kept spewing nonsense at you. Something regarding someone named Bob, John Walker, and some others you had never heard of, but what got your eyes opening was the mention of her name.

Yelena Belova.

It was no secret to anybody that knew the both of you that you absolutely hated each other. You couldn't pinpoint when exactly it happened, but at a certain point in time you noticed how rude she was to you—and only to you. Not to Bucky, not to whoever tried to kill her, and not even to the little kid that called her a boy and tried to throw his car toy at her head because he found her that scary. “If Yelena is involved, I don't think that Bob is going to be your biggest issue that needs fixing, Barnes. Go collect some other deeply traumatized hero to go play Avengers with.” “Yeah, no. You know that Sam won't talk to me anymore, and I don't know any others so... get the hell up. I will be downstairs. Red car. You got 2 minutes.” Didn't even let you open your mouth before he scurried downstairs to his supposedly red car. A troubled sigh left you as you ranked up the motivation to sit upright on your bed. Your head falling onto your hands as you rubbed your face to try and get yourself to wake up a little more. You hoped that whoever this Bob is wouldn't put up too much of a fight.

———

 You stole a glance at her.

 Your own mistake, really.

Her eyes locked with yours like she was mentally calculating exactly how many bones she could break before Bucky noticed. You gave her the world's most insincere smile, and she just shifted her eyes back to the window behind John with a dramatic sigh, like even acknowledging your existence was exhausting. Ghost nudged you with her elbow, smirking. "She's been glaring at you since we picked you up. What did you do to her?" "I don't know," you muttered. "Breathe too loudly, maybe?" “No, you breathing in general is pissing me off.” “You looking at me in general is pissing me off.” "Why are you even here? You couldn't even throw a ball back to a child that was in front of you. How exactly are you meant to help with Bob?" Each word of hers deepened her snarl. “That was one fucking time, Blondie.” “More than enough.” “Alright, you—” as you stood up to leap towards her, a taco-shaped shield was placed in front of you and you felt Bucky holding you back. “What the fuck is this?" your eyes were trained on the taco shield as you looked back at John. "What the fuck did you do?” "It was Bob..." your mouth hung open. “Bob? A Bob did this.” “Don’t act like you are any better than John. If it were you against Bob, you would have been that shield.” Yelena's deep accent cut through, and if it weren’t for Bucky pulling you to sit in front of him instead of her, you would have jumped her out of the damn car. “All right, that is enough of you two. I brought you here so that you can help, not make everything worse, and I don't want to hear another word from you or from Yelena until we arrive.” Bucky's eyes stayed trained on you during his whole little speech as you leaned back into your seat and tilted your head back. Your eyes closed out of pure fatigue, and before you knew it, you were already out.

_____

Fighting a Bob-shaped black void that was currently shadowing people left and right definitely wasn't on your fight-a-Bob to-do list. You were running around trying to prevent people from either being squashed by parts of buildings falling or being sent into the void by Bo—the Sentry?—no—the Void? You lost count of who Bob decided to be. Placing a little girl down onto the floor, your eyes snapped towards the group as you heard Alexei scream out Yelena's name. She was just a few feet away from you, standing directly in front of the void. “The hell are you doing?" you screamed out. You quickened your steps towards her as you saw her take a deep breath in before turning towards you with a cold but yet relaxed expression on her face. Furrowing your eyebrows in an unspoken question, you tried to reach her. Before you were able to drag her back by her arm, she let herself fall into the void, and your eyes widened. What the fuck just happened? You stumbled back away from the consuming void and from Yelena's shadow on the floor towards the group before turning to them to see Bucky and John pulling a wailing Alexei back. Just like before in the car, they all started arguing and panicking on what to do next, but your eyes were trained on the void. Blurring out their arguments, you slowly walked towards the consuming shadow and let it consume you as well.

—————

Flopping down on your crowded couch, you let out a loud groan as you pressed an ice pack onto your knee. Your head leaned on the back of the couch as you glanced at a very fidgety Bob next to you. “Have to give it to you, Bob. Extremely underestimated you. You practically handed our asses to us on a gold platter.” His eyes looked at you with such guilt, you almost pulled him into a hug. “No hard feelings,” you smiled at him. On the other side of you sat John and Alexei, and somewhere behind you, wandering around looking for something to eat, were Ava and Bucky. Yelena, although definitely in your apartment, was nowhere to be seen. Most likely in the bathroom.

After the whole fight with the Void, the group was too tired to wander back to their homes, so you just volunteered the idea that everybody crash at yours. It wasn't that far away from the crime scenes anyways, and it didn’t bother you all that much. Especially since Valentina is forcing you still to live in the New-Avengers-Old-Avengers watchtower that she has been rebuilding. As much as you hate her, you couldn't contain your excitement for the idea of living in such a huge space. Even if it was with these dorks and Yelena—God, your mind is all over the place and she still hasn't made an appearance. Your eyebrows furrow as you glance at the bathroom door. “Anybody know where Yelena is?”

Silence.

You looked over at John and Alexei, who were both out cold, and then at Bob, who just looked guilt-ridden toward the bathroom door. “She locked herself in the second we entered.” You stood up, and his eyes followed your movement. “Get some sleep, Bob. I know today was a lot for you—for all of us. I don’t even know where Ava and Bucky ran off to.” You softly smiled at him and turned toward the bathroom door as he settled down on the couch.

In front of it, you hesitated. What exactly were you even trying to do? Ever since she looked at you before entering the void, you couldn't shake a deep sense of guilt off of you. Although she looked at you with those same hate-filled eyes, you still saw it. She wasn’t sure what the void would do. She was ready to risk dying.

Your eyes locked onto the bathroom handle, and you slowly raised your hand to try and open the door. No luck—it only rattled. “Blondie? You in there?” Not a sound could be heard. You raised your fist to knock at the door. “Go away,” she muttered, accent thick with exhaustion and something else. “I am busy.” “Busy sulking?” “Busy not murdering you,” she corrected. “It’s self-care.” Although you usually would have sent her a sharp quip back, you still felt off. “You sure you’re good? Is—” “I told you I am fine. I do not need your sympathy.”

A beat of silence before you spoke up. “What was that today, Yelena?” By now your forehead was leaning against the door. The cold soothed your blaring headache. She didn’t answer, and instead you just heard a soft thud onto the floor. “Yelena?” Your only answer were soft mumbles and mutters from her that you could barely even hear. “Is everyth— Let me in, Yelena.” You cut yourself off after hearing multiple things fall to the floor. It sounded like she was hurling herself across the bathroom trying to get away. A loud sigh left you as you looked over to the group and realized they were all still deep asleep.

She wouldn’t talk to you, and you knew she wouldn’t let you in. “I’m just trying to help. You are not okay, Yelena. I saw the way you looked at him—at it. I mean—damn—you even had me worrying there and I don’t even—” You were cut off when your bathroom door rattled open slightly. The soft yellow light bled into the hallway in a small sliver.

Pushing the door further open, you saw her.

On the floor, still in her blood-soaked dirty suit, and even her face still had the dirt and rubble from the fight, and yet—yet she still raised her head to look at you with such a deep dislike in her eyes you wondered if maybe you were just conjuring all of this up because your mind was so overwhelmed today. Half-lidded blue eyes started to wander about anywhere but you, and her chest started heaving—that’s when you realized.

She was having a panic attack.

Her hand started rubbing over her heart, and the other one was grabbing onto your sink so hard her knuckles turned white. You quickly looked around to see if someone had awoken to the sound, but nobody did. You quickly pushed yourself into the bathroom and closed the door behind you to lock it before dropping down onto your knees in front of her.

Her head fell back onto the cold wall as her eyes closed, and she looked severely in pain—like something or someone was currently punching her over and over again. “Yelena? What’s going on?”

Your voice came out in such a soft manner that you even shocked yourself slightly. Your eyes wandered and flittered around her face as you took in her state. A coat of sweat started to form on her skin as her hair clung to her face. Her eyes snapped open and she looked at you and only you. “It hurts,” she breathed out. Her voice barely came out as a cry of a whisper, followed with a small sob.

You didn’t know what to do, but panicking about that would just make everything worse, so you focused on her. “What hurts? Do you need me to get anything? Maybe I should get Bob—hold on—”

As you went to stand up, you felt a heavy hand grab onto your wrist and you looked immediately at her. She shook her head but still avoided your eyes, but you knew what she was trying to tell you. Don’t leave me alone. An exasperated sigh left you as you crawled back to her level—now closer than you previously were. Your wrist still in her hand, and she had started to tighten her grip, seemingly looking for something to ground her. Slowly, your other hand raised toward her face but quickly stopped in the act when you saw her flinch away.

Hysterically, she started shaking her head again and muttered things in Russian that you couldn’t keep up with. Slowly, you started to piece together some words like “I’m sorry,” “please don’t hurt her,” and “Natasha.” You knew her sister’s death had greatly affected her—you just never assumed it was this bad to the point of her hallucinating. As she started trembling, her other free hand still rubbed away at her heart, but it started to look so painful you were sure the skin underneath was burning red. So you quickly grabbed her hand and held it still. “You are hurting yourself. That won’t help you. I need you to calm down, okay? Can you do that?”

Your words seemed to enter one ear and leave out the other as her eyebrows pinched together in pain. “Do you trust me?” you asked—not really expecting an answer—but to your surprise, you received a curt nod from her after a beat of silence.

Letting go of her hand and pulling away from her hold on you, your hand found the back of her head and you pulled her into you. Resting your chin on the top of her head, your free hand found comfort on her arm where your thumb rubbed softly at the suit-covered skin as if to soothe her—perhaps also a little yourself.

It took some time, but eventually she stopped shaking in your hold and instead clutched onto your shirt. You hadn’t stopped muttering soft words to help encourage her to calm down, and now she was so still you worried she might have cried herself to her own death.

You tried pulling away, but she only gripped onto your shirt tighter, so you only lowered your head. Hers was barely held up with eyes half-closed, lips red and swollen, littered with cuts and furrowed eyebrows. Her eyes fluttered between yours, and it took you a moment to realize just how close to her you were.

You could feel her ragged breath, noses so close they were brushing against each other, and still the light tremble in her hands. “Are you better now?” you whispered. “We need to get you out of your clothes and maybe into a bed—or the couch if John and Alexei haven’t taken the entire thing over.”

Still no answer, but it wasn’t like you had expected her to give you one. Not in her current state, at least.

Pulling out of her hold and leaving the bathroom turned out to be the most difficult task the entire day had given you. She had eventually pulled away from you - actually, she even pushed you away from her—but her untreated wounds seemed to have festered and worsened, as she could barely stand up. So you held her upright.

You helped her get to your room and laid her down onto your clean bed. You gave her some shirt you found lying around in your closet that you weren’t even entirely sure was yours, with some jeggings. Her wounds were treated by herself, but you didn’t leave the room when she did it. Not in your good conscience, you couldn’t.

She returned to her cold state she previously always sported around, and you knew what this meant—she would act like none of this had happened. And maybe a part of you had hoped for that as well, because at the end of the day, you hated her and she hated you—right?

Now you were both laying on your bed with you on your back and her on her side with her back facing you. Your head turned to her side as your eyes wandered over her silhouette before turning back to the ceiling.

You were just glad this hell of a day was finally coming to an end. As you closed your eyes, you could have sworn you heard a hoarse “Thank you” come from her side before everything faded to black.

—————

Over the span of the next few days, she went back to how she was before—cold, mean, and just plain petty. The only difference now was that she was crueler, and even though you knew you shouldn't say anything, you couldn’t help but confide in Bucky. Bucky, who was currently standing in front of you in a fighting stance, ready to knock you on your ass—all the while looking extremely confused. “So, wait. You hugged her?” “Held her just close to me.” “Hugged her. Helped her calm down after a panic attack, and she didn’t even let you leave afterwards—and now she’s ignoring you?” “Ignoring me would have been mercy. No. She’s just a plain bitch to me now. At least before she would shut up when she realized I’d had enough. Now it’s just jab after jab after jab.” You let out a sigh. “Punch your feelings out.” Your arms dropped, and you tilted your head to look at him with a "The fuck are you saying?" facial expression. “Come on. It helps. I promise. Do it as hard as you—”

You cut him off by moving toward him steadily, one jab to his side, the next to his shoulder which he blocked with his metal arm. He got a strong punch to your ribcage, and you stumbled back in faux pain. As he strutted closer to you to apologize, you quickly grabbed his arm and twisted it around to throw him on the floor. He caught your arm and pulled you down with him just underneath you, with you sat on his lap, both breathing heavily.

“You’ve gotten rusty, old man,” you let out with a smirk. “Haha. You’re just as out of breath as me. Don’t get cocky now.”

He pulled himself up with you still in his lap, one hand finding purchase on your side to stabilize you. His eyes locked on yours, and a beat of silence followed. Just now, you realized how close he was to you, much like Yelena was earlier this week—but this time, you didn’t feel the way she made you feel.

As you opened your mouth to say something, anything really, you heard a loud clap followed by a thick Russian accent screaming:

“Only real American heroes are able to fight and love! Bucky Barnes, you are phenomenal! America’s big hero, everybody!”

You rolled your eyes as you spotted not only Alexei but John and—worse of all—Yelena, who looked about six seconds away from murdering you. You tumbled off of Bucky, who still hadn’t stopped staring at you, paying no mind to the rest of the gang just behind him, arguing about what “professionals” should and shouldn’t do in their training room.

Taking off your hand bandages, you placed them down on the floor and quickly grabbed your towel, trekking out of the room and into the bathroom to shower… whatever that was off.

After your shower and after you retreated back to your own room, you laid down on your warm bed. Arm above your eyes, you were close to falling asleep before someone almost ripped the damn hinges off your door with how hard they were knocking.

“One fucking second,” you muttered as you forced yourself to get up.

Maybe it was Bob and he’d lost control again. Maybe Bucky finally caved in and stuck John's head into the trashcan and now can’t get him out. Or maybe…

Maybe it was just Yelena in front of you, looking extremely disheveled, like she had just woken up to the worst news of her entire life.

“Can I help you?” Your voice came out more hostile than you intended, but you really weren’t in the mood for her bullshit right now.

“I can’t fucking sleep,” she said, her accent thick with exhaustion. It was similar to how it sounded just a few days ago. She shoved her way into your room and sat down on your bed.

“Okay, so make yourself at home, I guess. You ignore me all week and now all of the sudden you can’t—” “Do you ever stop talking?” “No.”

A sigh left your parted lips. “Are you staying here tonight?”

She didn’t say anything, but you already understood her: Yes, I will. And I will sleep in your bed with you.

Laying yourself down on your side of the bed, you patted the empty space beside you. “Might as well get comfy.”

Slowly but surely, she made her way to lay down next to you. Your eyes trailed her profile, and it hurt how pretty she was. Slowly, she turned her head toward you, and once again, there was barely any space left between you two. Her eyes trailed down to your lips, where they stayed—laser focused.

“Lena?” Her eyes snapped up. They were wide and feral, like she was looking—hunting—for something inside of you that only she was aware of.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath in. “Get some sleep. Or try to, at least. It’s late.” Caving in, your body relaxed and once again you were on the brink of falling asleep—but to her, it must have seemed like you were already dead to the world.

A warmth spread over your face as you slowly felt her hand cup your cheek. Thumb brushing over the apple of your cheek, your nose slope, and your cupid’s bow with feather-light touches that could almost be described as nonexistent. Almost.

You heard her mutter something in Russian before her hand fell, and you felt a deep sense of disappointment grow inside of you. Still, you didn’t open your eyes to look at her. Instead, you turned your back to her and fell asleep—because this, whatever this was, was entirely wrong.

She’s meant to hate you not come into your room at 2 a.m. just to touch and feel you exist beside her. Yet you crave this. You need this just as bad, if not worse than her.

By morning, you had assumed she was already gone, but when you opened your eyes, you were greeted by tousled platinum blonde hair all over your face. Blowing it away, your hand moved to push it all down and you felt her. Looking down, you could see how she had practically become one with you. Head heavy on your chest, one hand holding yours, the other cradling your cheek. Her breathing remained soft, unbothered, so your hand found the back of her neck and began to softly caress her. You couldn’t understand what any of this meant or what she was doing, but you weren’t going to tell her to stop.

No you wanted her to continue. And she did.

 For two more weeks, on and off, she would come barging into your room and just lay there. Not one single word was uttered, but you knew—she had a nightmare, so she came to you for comfort. However, during the day, she was still the same cruel, heartless girl you had known for years. Most days, you assumed her coming over was a new form of sleep paralysis that you had developed, because she truly showed you no difference.

Although you may have not noticed any change, Bucky sure did.

He saw the longing glances she gave you when you looked away. Her furrowed eyebrows toward John when he took a quick jab at you for something she would have said much worse to. Or when Alexei went to wrap his arm around you, he saw her flinch—as if he had done it to her and not you.

He tried ignoring it, because at the end of the day, this was your life and your relationships—but when Alexei and John caught on, he knew it was just a matter of time before something excessive happened.

But for now, you were sent away on a solo mission that Valentina had conjured up as good press work. Normally, you would’ve complained and even yelled at her, but you just really needed a break from everybody back at the tower. Especially her.

The mission wasn’t supposed to be that hard: get in, destroy the lab, and get out. It was supposed to be empty—because that’s what that witch Valentina told you.

But obviously, it wasn’t.

No, right now a 6-foot-something man had you in a chokehold, while another man had taken all of your knives with him.

Wherever you were rendered your powers entirely useless—you assumed the walls were coated with something to stop superheroes from interfering.

Your nails dug into his arm and you felt a small puddle of blood forming underneath. Eyes feeling like they were about to pop out of your head, your hand reached to his face, digging your nails in before dragging them down to his eyes.

He let out a loud groan before pushing you off of him, and you fell to the floor, heaving.

Your hand went to your neck in an attempt to comfort yourself before you turned and saw him dragging his feet toward you. In front of you, about two feet away, lay your weapon but you couldn’t tell anymore if there were any bullets left. Your brain was too scrambled from the lack of oxygen.

So instead, you leapt forward and grabbed it. On your back, you aimed the gun toward his head as he started sprinting toward you, and shot him square between the eyes.

When you heard him fall with a loud thud to the floor, your head dropped onto the hard, blood-covered concrete beneath you.

Your head was spinning, something somewhere on your body burned, and you felt your own blood pooling beneath your clothes.

Still—you had to get up. The mission wasn’t done. You knew somewhere along the hallways were many more men. Your phone was discarded in your bag at the roof of the building, meant to be picked up after the mission, but dying seemed like a more likely possibility than ever seeing your stupid phone again.

“Damn you, Valentina. You fucking bitch,” you muttered as you lifted yourself up with shaky arms.

Your legs wobbled beneath you and you almost fell face-flat. Looking down at the gun in your hand—you had about three more bullets left. You hoped it was enough.

You tracked your way down the hall and set all the timers for the bombs. You were almost out of the door when it ripped open and about five or six way-too-muscular men came barging in.

More footsteps emerged from behind you, and by then, you had started to make peace with the fact that you were most likely going to die in less than two minutes.

A loud sigh escaped you as you leaned against the wall for support, eyes closed.

Before anyone could do anything, the windows shattered. You dropped to the floor to avoid the shards.

One by one, the men dropped.

With wide eyes, you looked outside the broken window and saw Bucky—just on top of the next building, rifle in hand.

Relief washed over you as your body collapsed in on itself and you fainted.

Before everything went black, you heard her. Screaming your name with such anxiety and worry you second-guessed whether it was real or not. Warm, shaky hands engulfed your face, her thumb stroking your cheek.

By the time your eyes opened again, you were half-blinded by harsh white lights.

Turning your head to the side, you realized you were in a hospital room. Outside your door, you heard chatter and murmurs. You caught Alexei’s pungent Russian accent and Bob’s nervous stuttering—which made you smile a little… before grimacing. Your entire body hurt. There wasn’t a single point that wasn’t burning or bruised. Looking around more, you saw flowers, gifts, food, and balloons that read: “Congrats! It’s a boy.”

You heard the door handle rattle, and soon enough, almost all of the team pushed through the door. Bob was the first to notice you had regained consciousness.

“Hey... Hey! Guys! Look!” he pointed frantically as they all fell silent, just staring at you. A small smile found your lips as you opened your mouth to speak—but nothing came out. Bucky quickly rushed out to call for a doctor while the rest surrounded you. All but her.

She was nowhere to be seen. And a deep sense of disappointment befell you.

Had she cared so little about you? You swore it was her holding your face as you bled out. Her whispering into your skin as you were driven to the hospital. Her holding your hand. Even in your half-dead state, you felt the pressure.

It was always her.

So why wasn’t she here now?

Before you could help yourself, your heart monitor began to speed up. “Whoa—hey, hey, are you good? Damn, where the hell is Bucky?” John asked, placing his hand on your arm to comfort you.

Soon enough, Bucky followed with the doctor. He checked your vitals, declaring them stable for now before quickly leaving the room, still glancing at the papers in his hands.

The team stayed a while until all cleared—but Bucky. He was left looking at you with extreme pity.

“What? What did I do?” “You want to know how she’s been doing?” You didn’t answer right away, instead opting to stare at the ceiling.

“Why does she hate me, Buck? I didn’t even do anything…”

The second part came out as a hurtful whisper as your eyes found his.

“I don’t think she hates you. Matter of fact, she was the one who felt something was wrong with your mission. Claimed you usually send a cat sticker in the group chat to announce you were done but you didn’t this time. So she demanded we check on you. When we found you, she was shaking. She wouldn’t talk to anybody for days after. Even when she went on missions, nobody knew or heard.”

“…So why isn’t she here now?”

“She always is. During the night, she would sneak out to sit with you.” His eyes dart to his watch on his wrist. “Should be about time actually. I should get going. Play nice with her. She has had it rough.” He stood up and made it to his door before stopping just before opening it. “I’m glad you are okay.” As reluctant as you were, you did want to believe him about Yelena, but it was just so hard and confusing with her. Before your thoughts could spiral any further, your hospital door opened again. Eyes snapping towards the door, you saw her in all of her glory—messy blonde hair with makeup smudged and many, many bruises littered all around her. She was breathing heavily.

“You are awake,” she muttered out in a thick, exhausted Russian accent. “Yeah, I guess so.”

She moved before you could blink; all of a sudden, her arms were around you, careful not to hurt you any more but just tight enough to let you know she was scared.

Your hand finds her head, and you brush her hair a little. Pulling away from you, her arms stayed near you.

“You are stupid. Dumb. An idiot.” You knew she meant to insult you yet you didn’t focus on that.

No, you focused on how red her eyes looked and how deep her eyebags ran, how her lips were turned into a frown, and how she was barely holding herself together. You didn’t say anything; you simply pulled her in by her forearm.

“Stop talking and just lay with me. You need rest more than me.”

With that, she laid herself down around you, mindful of all the bits and bobs attached to you. Her head, just like before, found purchase on your chest before you and her passed out in tandem.

It took you all of two weeks before you were finally allowed to return to the Avengers Tower. Yelena had been the first to come from the team to help bring your stuff back. Slowly but surely, you began recovering, and before you all knew it, you were all okay again.

The only problem was that none of them would let you on a mission. Not even Valentina her goddamn self.

When you asked Bucky, he told you that you needed more rest and going out on missions alone in your current state was unwise and possibly very dangerous. You tried going in teams with John or Ava, but again they simply brushed you off.

“I just don’t understand. I am fine, I have recovered—even my damn bruises are gone—why can’t I just be sent on another mission?” You voiced out your concern to Bob most days because, just like you, he would always stay back on missions, so you just grew to talk his ear off.

“I mean, they just want to be nice? They don’t want you to hurt yourself again. Give them some time—I am sure they will come around. Besides, being alone in the tower isn’t so bad? Is it?...”

The last part came out more as a question to himself than to you, but you let it be. Turning your head to look at him, you let out a small chuckle.

“I still don’t quite understand the whole thing with Yelena. One day she latches herself onto me, the next she looks like she would want to kill me, and every time I try to talk about it, nothing comes out of her. I am getting tired of her stupid game.”

“Maybe corner her?”

“Corner her? How?”

“Like in the bathroom all those weeks ago? Or something?” He seemed so unsure of what he was saying that for a second, you had to stifle a small laugh as a smile broke out on your face.

“Want food, Bob? I’m sure we still got something left?” He nods and you get up to get both of you some food. You should at least consider yourself happy that Bob would still be around—and not just you and the endless voices of despair and shame catching up to you.

In a few days, there would be a huge gala event that the entire team needed to attend, so your plan was to go there, meet with Valentina, and force her to give you a new mission—it shouldn’t be that hard anyway. You were sure that Bucky and the others have just been taking your missions for themselves before you get a chance to even see them without Valentina’s consent or knowledge.

Looking around the kitchen isle, you found little to no actual snacks for you and Bob. Some apples, some bananas.

Turning around to the cupboards, you purse your lips in thought. Where the hell did Alexei and John hide their sweets? You know very well they do—you just need to find where. Soon enough, you found Alexei’s stash on the top of the cupboards—damn tall super soldiers. Even on your tiptoes, you couldn’t reach the mile-high top, so you looked around for a chair to stand on.

Dragging one from the seating table, you quickly grabbed the first thing that came to hand, which were some salt and vinegar chips—you weren’t too sure if Bob would like them, but they had to do for now.

Placing the chair back to its place, you quickly walked back to Bob on the couch who looked immensely immersed in whatever rom-com he put on when you left.

Once on the couch, you ripped open the bag and held it open to him.

“Couldn’t find anything else. Hope you like what I served you.”

Bob simply smiled at you before pulling a few chips out of the bag. One hour into the movie and you heard the elevator door ding open. Tossing your head back to look at the couch, you smiled at them. They looked rough.

“You fight Thanos himself, or why do you guys look like hell in human form?” You fight back a grin as John stumbled over his feet and nearly took Alexei with him.

Your eyes quickly divert to Yelena, who quite arguably looked the worst out of all of them. Your eyebrows furrow in an unasked question. Are you okay? You knew the answer, but still. You don’t like seeing her like this—so weak—so empty?

You thought you made progress with her after the whole hospital situation, and even though she has severely eased up on the backtalk (although you weren’t too sure it was because you guys were becoming friends or if she just saw you as too weak to handle them currently), she still wasn’t the nicest to you considering what was happening at night with the both of you.

You even started to leave your bedroom door open when you went to sleep because you just knew she would come and wouldn’t want to possibly wake you by opening your creaking door.

You always tried to make everything easier for her, and you don’t even know why.

All you knew was that sometimes you would wake up in the middle of the night to find her next to you. You would stare, and you would whisper everything you wanted to tell her—how you felt about her, how you want her to feel about you, and more. You would trace the slope of her button nose and brush your finger to her lips just to have a small sense of what it could feel like—her lips on you. Not just on your own lips, but everywhere. You wanted to feel her everywhere, for her to be everything and it was starting to become harder and harder to ignore outside of the vulnerable moments you shared in your bed.

It wasn’t fair how she was able to laugh so freely with Ava, hug Bob so easily when he needed it, look at them with joy and love and not hate and shame. Were you that bad of an option? Did she find it embarrassing to go to Bob for help so she found you as a plan B because she knew you wouldn’t say anything?

God, everything about her just hurt. It hurt how badly you wanted her, and it hurt how obvious it was she would never want you.

Shaking your head rid of those thoughts, you stood up from your place at the couch next to Bob and bid him goodnight before disappearing into your room. Your eyes find your door handle. If she was that embarrassed to be around you, maybe you should just help her stop—maybe it would even help you to stop feeling for her.

So, you locked your bedroom door and made your way to bed. Too lazy to get up and do anything, you were out in just a few minutes and were only awoken by the soft rattle of your bedroom door.

At first, you had been scared maybe someone was trying to get in, but you quickly got to your senses and realized who it was.

Closing your eyes, you turned onto your side and tried to fall asleep again, only succeeding after the rattling of the door handle had finally stopped. A sigh of relief left you.

Maybe this was exactly what you needed. A break from her.

Days passed by and you stopped seeing her and ultimately stopped thinking about her—unless you count the fact that you still sleep on only one side of your bed because you still think she will come.

She won’t.

But she doesn’t seem any better off without you. Her eyebags lay heavy beneath her crystal green eyes that look so dull, so lifeless it scares you almost.

Now you were standing in your room preparing yourself for that gala that was in less than an hour. Your hair wasn’t done yet, and you also didn’t even want to think about doing it because then you might actively tear the entire tower apart from frustration.

Instead, you opted to simply wear your dress and finish applying your makeup for now.

You heard a rough knock on your door before you let out a, “It’s open!”

Turning your back to the door, you fumble through your makeup bag to look for that specific lipstick shade that you knew you had somewhere in here. Or was it in the bathroom?

“You look good.” Her thick accent makes you freeze mid-motion.

You turn to look at her—really look at her.

She has a blue dress on that fit the colour of her eyes so perfectly. That blonde hair of hers only adding to the effects of the dress and her makeup—simple but nonetheless there—and her lips. They looked so red—so full and plump.

You couldn’t stop staring.

“What do you want, Lena?” You couldn’t shake the nickname no matter how mad she made you.

At first she said nothing, simply opting to stare at you instead—top to bottom, where her eyes lingered on the curves of your body and of your neck. She stepped closer, but you were still all together confused on why she was even here and what she even wanted from you.

“Yelena?” You voiced out.

“Hm?” “What are you doing?” “You have been keeping me out. Why?” Her eyes flitted between yours.

Your heart raced and you were starting to sweat. Profusely so. A deep sigh escaped you as you tried to look at her in a stern way. “You ignore me all day, crawl to my bed at night and hold me—which, yes, I am awake when you do it because I can’t fucking sleep next to you without thinking about you. How does that work? I think about you and I miss you, yet you are laying right next to me knowing by morning you will act like I am a dead man walking. Yelena, it fucking hurts.”

By the end, you were a mere breath away from her. You felt her ragged breath, you saw every small micro-expression she was giving you, and it was ruthless how unbothered she seemed by all of this. Your shaky hands go to cradle her face, and in a small whisper you mutter out, “Why?”

Her eyes dropped down to your lips and they remained there—staring and awaiting. Pulling her in closer, your lips parted just above hers. Would it be so bad? To just go in? You felt them brushing slightly against yours as your eyes snapped up to hers, asking an unspoken question. Out of pure hesitation, you started to pull back, but it didn’t get very far before she pulled you back in by your arms. Her lips consumed yours, and all of your worries and all of your doubts flashed away, and it was only her in your mind. Pulling you with her, you stumbled at the foot of the bed and sat down on it, her between your legs now, holding onto your face as your hands dropped to her waist.

She hasn’t left your lips even for a small breath—

A loud knock pulled you out of your fantasy, and you found yourself back hunched over your makeup bag, lipstick in hand.

Had you been fucking hallucinating that?

Looking around and then back to the mirror, you realize you look normal—nothing out of place, no smudged makeup from her tight grip on your face or anything and you felt like ransacking your entire bedroom because of it.

You missed her badly, and even that small glint of her from her open bedroom door, getting ready with Ava in tow, was enough to send you over the edge and start imagining her. It was certainly not the first time you daydreamed—or dreamed in general—of her. During the nights when she laid next to you, you would often dream about how she would feel bare on you. Her lips trailing down a path of lust and neediness down on you.

How you would feel just wrapped all around her.

Your door opened, and you saw John standing there. His eyes did you a quick run-over before smirking at you.

“Don’t say anything weird, John. What do you want?” “Car’s out waiting, everybody else is done. Had to come get you—are you finished?”

Quickly grabbing your purse and stuffing your lipstick that you finally found in, you rush out behind John.

Once in the car, you sat opposite of Yelena, who was running her eyes up and down. Your eyes met hers, and how you wished you could read her mind in this moment.

Was she judging you? Or was she admiring you?

The car ride took a dreadful 20 minutes of Alexei screaming with John about how excited they are. Everybody else was dead silent save for a few chuckles here and there when Alexei did something stupid or someone threw a jab at John.

The Gala itself was beautifully ornamented. An orchestra to the sides playing soft background music, chatter all around, and most importantly a bar in which you could drink away Yelena—or at least try to.

After about two glasses and a handful of very annoying rich people coming to congratulate you on being a part of the new Avengers, you started to feel lightheaded.

Your eyes scanned the crowd and there you saw her. Bathed in the moonlight that shone through the big window behind her, peeking out from the velvet red curtains covering them.

It shone on her in a way that angels would shine should they step foot on earth.

Her eyes skitted to yours from across the hallway. You didn’t know how long you both stood there, watching each other. Could’ve been seconds, could’ve been forever. The music faded behind you like you were submerged underwater, the chatter turning into a dull hum in your ears. Nothing existed but her—Yelena, haloed in that goddamn moonlight like some kind of sick miracle sent to test you again.

She tilted her head just the slightest bit. You knew that look. You’d spent nights memorizing every tick of her face, every twitch of her brow, every small furrow that meant something more. This one said she was thinking too loud inside her head, same as you were. Maybe you were dreaming again. Maybe she was still a ghost haunting your bed when the lights went out.

But when she started walking toward you, slow and unsure like the floor might cave in with each step, you knew this wasn’t a dream. You knew because your heart started racing again. Loud. Relentless. Stupid.

She stopped just inches in front of you, eyes scanning your face like she was making sure you were real, too.

“You locked your door.”

You didn’t expect that to be the first thing she said, “Yeah,” you replied, voice quieter than you meant it to be. “I needed to make it stop.”

She looked down at her hands for a second. Then back up, those stormy blue eyes all cracked and tired and too honest. “I know,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

You blinked hard, trying not to lose it in the middle of some overpriced ballroom in front of the entire team. “Why are you here, Yelena?”

Her lips pressed together, and for a second you thought she’d walk away again.

“Because we were both invited to the Gala tonight?” She chuckled dryly.

Your hands trembled where they clutched at your now empty glass, torn between touching her and pushing her away.

“You can’t keep crawling into my bed if you’re not willing to stay in the morning, Yelena.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But you also need to know that i am scared.“

You didn’t trust her. Not completely. Not yet. But when she reached for your hand and your fingers slipped together like they belonged there—like maybe this was the one thing the world didn’t plan to ruin—you let her hold on.

The orchestra shifted into something softer, something gentler. She gave your hand the smallest squeeze.

“Dance with me?” she asked.

And even though your legs felt like they might give out and your chest was still tight with the weight of everything unsaid—you nodded.

You stepped onto the floor together, slow and unsure. Her arms wrapped around you, and yours found their way home to her waist. Neither of you really knew the steps, but it didn’t matter. For the first time in a long time, it didn’t matter. Because she was here. In the light. In your arms. Not just when the door was closed and the world asleep.

And maybe, just maybe, she’d stay this time.

#marvel #marvel x reader #fluff #yelena belova x reader #yelena x reader #yelena my beloved #yelena black widow #black widow #thunderbolts x reader #thunderbolts #white widow #white widow x reader

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yan-randomfandom · 1 month ago

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Hey gang..I’m gonna need more of that yandere rumi you had posted. It was so god damn good🙏, Could I possibly request yandere Rumi x gn!reader where the reader is a demon that isn’t subservient to Gwi-ma.

Rumi x Demon!GN!Reader

a/n; HEY GANG... thank you so much 😋 that rumi one shot is my favorite out of everything i've written

WELL, demon!reader would be similar to Jinu, the same song and dance — except you end up meeting her earlier — and omg i ended up character exploring here😭😭😭

sadly there's no yandere aspect 😞 i realized i had to analyze the whole movie before i could reach it — so i gave up my bad 😭 LOTS OF CONTENT THO I THINK

—🫟 [not proofread]

Rumi was supposed to be alone. Alone to scream her emotions, alone to hide herself.

But there you were, standing on top of a street lamp, glowing golden eyes fixated at her. Her patterns exposed to the chilly wind. Exposed to a demon like you.

You simply stare at her, unmoving.

... It doesn't matter. Rumi summons her sword.

She throws her sword once. She jumps, stumbles on her own feet, and slashes twice.

"You hunters," you say, clicking your tongue as you dodge her attacks, "all the same."

Rumi's face shifts with anger. "Shut up, demon. You—You're not supposed to be here!"

You leap, making sure the distance is far enough for you to mock her with a smile. "What does that make you? Hey, I wasn't even doing anything."

With a shout, she launches the tip of her sword at you. You easily avoid it with a tilt of your head. That was rather weak.

"A demon hunter," you hum. "Doesn't Gwi-Ma speak to you?"

"Why should I tell you anything?" she hisses, running toward you with a summon of her sword again.

"Because I'll tell you this," you say, blocking her sword with your own hands. "If all demons are to be killed, then why do you still stand?"

Rumi grunts, breathing heavily, pushing her sword as much as she can.

You scoff as your arms start to tremble. "Because you're a hunter? Please. You have his marks. You're one of us, Rumi."

She gives a final push before leaping backward, positioning herself into a defensive stance. Her eyes tell you that you're right — but, no, no no no, she's different!

"Don't look so disappointed," you cross your arms, glancing at the full moon. "Being a demon isn't so bad. I'm a demon. My best friend's a demon. You know what we usually do? Play Ddakji."

"Shut up," she snaps. She's shaking in anger, but she doesn't move.

"Yeah, you're right," you sigh. "I'm embarrassed to admit that I'm terrible at Ddakji."

Rumi's fingers tighten around her weapon.

You smile. "What? Think other demons have no feelings?"

She takes a step and swings her sword — but you disappear before it touches you.

— 🌪️

You're here again.

Rumi watched the Honmoon flounder for a moment. She knows it opened a tear here. A sigh escapes her as she slides on her jacket.

"Don't hide them," you mutter behind her. She whips around and calls her sword, her eyes narrowing. "They should be free more. Besides, they look sick."

"Why won't you just die?" Rumi mumbles, her voice cracking. She's not looking at you anymore — she didn't see the way your face scrunched.

You let out a long sigh. It draws her attention enough to glance at you. "Die? Is that the first thing you think of when seeing a demon?"

She suddenly runs, slashing her sword. You jump in time to avoid it.

"How could I not?" she snaps, cutting the air again. "Demons steal innocent people's souls!" Again. "The amount of missing posters—" Again. "Your people has done nothing but—!!!"

"Survive," you say. "That's all they're trying to do. I get what you're saying, Rumi, I really do."

Rumi pants, widened eyes scrutinizing your every move.

"I don't know why it's come to this either," you continue. "Maybe that's why I don't do anything for Gwi-Ma." Her breathing pauses. "But, seriously, at least drop the 'demons are evil' mentality."

You make eye contact. "It's hurting you, too."

— 🖤

Nowadays, it seems like Rumi is waiting for you to show up.

She finds herself thinking about you a lot more often. Your words echo in her mind. It shouldn't feel so comforting — messages that came from a demon. A demon who... knows about her predicament... a demon who has such a different perspective.

The Honmoon trembles above her. She buries down the shudder of excitement.

"I hope you won't raise your sword anymore," you snicker, your voice ringing in her ears. She turns and spots you sitting on a building just right beside hers. "You should be used to my visits by now."

"Why?"

You pause. "Why what?"

"Why do you," she stops for a moment, glancing away in what feels like shame. "Why do you keep returning?"

You contemplate for a moment, opening your mouth but —

"Why don't you work with Gwi-Ma? Or are you lying? ...Why would you?"

You stare at her blankly.

"Why did I have to end up being a demon?" she croaks.

Rumi jolts and freezes when you suddenly appear in front of her, your face plastered with deep sadness.

"Maybe because your mother saw something in demons, that the previous hunters couldn't," you answer quietly.

Then you were gone.

Rumi falls to her knees.

Shit.

— 💔

"You have a wonderful voice. Anyone ever tell you that?"

You asked that as soon as Rumi started singing to test her broken voice. Her patterns are reaching dangerously close to her most important function — singing.

So, of course, she gets defensive. "Are you mocking me?"

"No, no," you exclaim, shaking your head as you raise your hands. "I meant that. I guess it just sucks that the demon part of you is breaking the one thing that has you going."

With a choke, you cover your mouth and meet her eyes. "Sorry! I didn't mean it like that."

She balls her fist and lets out a loud, frustrated groan. You stare at her, cringing.

"Uh... any idea why that's happening?"

Rumi glares at you.

"Just curious," you shrug, standing over the edge with the wind dancing with your garment.

She doesn't respond, her eyes carefully watching you.

You smile. Taking in the details of her eyes, the carving of her patterns, and the way she looks so inwardly desperate.

"You're beautiful as yourself, Rumi."

— 🍃

[bonus]

The next time Rumi meets you, you say something strange.

"They have a new plan," you mutter, swinging your legs over the edge of the balcony. "Demon boy band and stuff." You start chuckling, turning to Rumi, "the whole thing's so funny, actually, but it sparked hope in the underwor—"

Rumi has her brows furrowed in confusion, mouth agape.

"Look. You'll see what I mean, okay?"

She fidgets with her hands. "What— Can't you stop them?"

"Why would I?"

Rumi snaps her head to you. You curiously cock your head.

She chokes. "What kind of question is that?"

"A serious one. For real though, I can't do anything to help you," you shrug, skimming the view. "I'm pretty neutral. Thought you knew that already—"

Aaaand she's gone. She's back inside her humble abode, most likely thinking about the next step.

Oh, well.

Jinu's definitely going to pull his hair out when he finds out Rumi is a demon.

--- 🌙

In the time of the reckoning, she comes to find you.

For comfort, mostly. You happily give her what she needs.

She just had to make sure you're on the other side.

— that's all i got, thanks for reading :)

i wanted to put more plot points like;

"where do u think demons come from?"

"jinu was a human once. he sold his soul."

"demons are humans?"

unfortunately im tired and fellow writers are free to explore this!!!! more drama!!!!

#iloverumi #x reader #rumi x reader #kpdh x reader #kpop demon hunters x reader #i went from “im gonna make ts short”#to “oh shit ts crazy”#huntrix x reader #rumi kdph x reader #rumi x reader kdph

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