Summary : You met her on set, somewhere between long days and quiet looks. It wasn’t part of the script, but it felt real — slow, unexpected, and impossible to ignore.
Warnings : Florence being a tease ? Lots of teasing
Authors note : 3k words, I have become way too obsessed with flo
You weren’t even supposed to be in Thunderbolts.
Originally, your role was a small one — a two-scene cameo as a morally gray anti-hero with sharp knives and a sharper tongue. But after the chemistry test with Florence Pugh, something shifted. The room crackled. The director coughed awkwardly and scribbled something in his notebook. Two weeks later, your agent called you, breathless.
“You’ve been upgraded,” she said. “Big time.”
You landed a full supporting role, which meant months of filming… with Florence.
God help you.
Florence Pugh was magnetic in person. She moved like she knew every eye was on her — and she liked it. But she wasn’t arrogant. No. She was playful. Teasing. Mischievous in a way that made your pulse tick just a bit faster every time she smiled in your direction.
Which was often.
“You always look so serious,” she told you one day between takes, her Yelena wig slightly askew, a lollipop between her lips. “Is that your villain face? Or are you just trying not to flirt with me?”
You nearly choked on your water. “Is it that obvious?”
She winked. “A little.”
It was a game from that point on. A maddening, sweet, slow game. She’d lean just a bit too close while reading lines, her breath brushing your cheek. You’d catch her watching you during fight training, head tilted, eyes thoughtful. You once caught her recording a slow-mo video of you flipping your stunt knife — she claimed it was “for reference,” but the smirk on her lips said otherwise.
You started teasing back, naturally.
“Careful, Pugh,” you whispered during one particularly intense scene rehearsal, your face inches from hers. “You keep looking at me like that and people will think you’re in love.”
She arched an eyebrow, unbothered. “Let them.”
You couldn’t tell if it was flirting anymore, or just her natural Florence-ness. Either way, it drove you wild. But it wasn’t until the last week of shooting that something actually shifted.
You were in your trailer, half out of costume, when she knocked — then walked in without waiting.
“Sorry,” she said, grinning as her eyes roamed over you. “Didn’t realize wardrobe was optional in here.”
“Florence.”
“What?” she laughed, perching on the couch like she owned it. “Just came to say goodbye before you wrapped for the day. Unless you wanted to run that last scene again. The one where you pin me to the wall?”
Your cheeks flamed. She knew exactly what she was doing.
You crossed your arms. “You are absolutely impossible.”
“Mm,” she hummed, standing slowly. She walked over, close enough that you had to tilt your chin to keep your eyes on hers. “You like it.”
She didn’t kiss you. But she didn’t have to. The tension between you both was a string pulled taut, vibrating with every inch of space that wasn’t quite filled.
That night, she texted you:
Goodbye scenes are overrated. Want to do dinner instead? Just you. Just me. Just… us?
The day they filmed the rooftop scene was the worst.
Not because it was cold. Not because you were bruised from a week of stunts. But because Florence Pugh was pressed up against you, panting, flushed, smiling like she knew exactly what she was doing to you — and you still weren’t allowed to kiss her.
In the scene, your character saves Yelena from a sniper. You crash behind a vent, her body half under yours, her fingers twisted in your jacket.
It was supposed to last ten seconds.
It took four takes.
“Sorry,” Florence said between the second and third take, voice low as she smoothed her hand down your chest. “I keep getting distracted.”
You stared at her, your face inches from hers. “By what?”
She grinned. “You.”
You made it through the scene, barely. When the director finally called cut, you stood up too fast and muttered something about needing air.
Florence didn’t follow. But when you got back to your trailer, there was a post-it note on your mirror.
Still thinking about the way you looked at me when I said “thanks for saving my ass.” Let me know if you want to rehearse that part. Alone.
You stared at the note for too long.
Later that night, you replied with a photo — the scene’s script page, her line circled in red, your handwriting underneath:
Anytime. I’ll always have your back. And maybe your ass, too.
Her response came five minutes later.
That was smooth. I’m proud. Still want to rehearse? I promise to be very professional. Until I’m not.
Over the next few days, it escalated.
During lunch, she stole fries from your plate with slow eye contact and said, “You don’t mind sharing, right?”
You shrugged, fighting a smile. “Only if you feed me one too.”
She did. Slowly.
During combat training, she pinned you to the mat and whispered, “I win.”
You rolled her over in one move, face barely a breath from hers. “You sure about that?”
You saw it in her eyes then — the pause, the flicker, the something behind the playfulness. Like she was thinking the same thing you were:
This was no longer just a game.
But no one made a move.
Until the wrap party.
You’d both made it through the final day of filming. Hugs were passed around. The cast danced, drinks flowed, and somewhere between the bad karaoke and the champagne, you found her on the balcony, barefoot, holding a half-finished cocktail.
“Cold?” you asked, offering your jacket.
She let you put it around her shoulders, tugging it tighter. “Only a little.”
“Nice party,” you said.
“Nice job surviving a movie with me.”
You smiled. “Barely.”
There was a quiet between you. Not uncomfortable — more like the silence right before thunder rolls in.
“You were the best part of this film,” she said softly, eyes locked on yours. “And not just on camera.”
Your throat tightened. “You too.”
She stepped closer.
“Are we still playing the game?” she asked, voice like velvet.
You met her gaze. “Do you want to be?”
She shook her head slowly. “Not anymore.”
You leaned in. Not a kiss, not yet — just your forehead resting gently against hers.
“Then stop me,” you whispered, “if I’m wrong about this.”
She didn’t.
Her fingers slipped into your hair, and you finally kissed her — slow, warm, and so full of everything you’d both been holding back.
You didn’t expect her to stay the night.
You kissed her on that balcony — slow, searching, a little dizzy with the realization that it wasn’t just tension or chemistry or a well-rehearsed scene. It was real. She was real. And when she pulled away, she didn’t let go. Not even a little.
She held your hand the whole Uber ride home.
And when you opened the door to your apartment, she followed without asking.
“I probably shouldn’t,” she said, toes nudging off her shoes, fingers brushing your wrist. “I’ll stay if you ask.”
“I want you to stay,” you told her. “No games.”
She smiled. “No games.”
That night, you didn’t sleep much — not for the reasons most people would assume. You lay tangled up in each other, whispering things you should’ve said weeks ago. She played with your fingers in the dark. You traced circles on her back. She kept falling asleep mid-sentence, then jerking awake to finish it.
It was soft.
It was perfect.
It was the beginning of everything.
Months later, she was still there — Florence, in your space like she’d always belonged.
She stole your t-shirts, left half-drunk cups of tea on the counter, and kissed you with ridiculous intensity in the morning, even when your breath was awful and your hair stuck up in seventeen directions.
You made her laugh so hard once she choked on cereal. She got you back by blasting Taylor Swift in the shower and dramatically serenading you through the curtain.
Life with her wasn’t glamorous or wild — not most days. It was warm. Domestic. Good.
But there were moments.
Like now.
You were lying on the couch, her legs stretched across your lap. A bowl of popcorn rested between you, long forgotten, because Florence was snuggled against your side wearing your hoodie — and nothing else — and she was doing that thing she did where she kissed your neck in slow, innocent intervals that were absolutely not innocent.
“Flor,” you warned, barely breathing. “You’re distracting me.”
“I know,” she murmured, voice low and amused. “That’s the point.”
You tilted your head to look at her. “You’re a menace.”
“And yet you adore me.”
You kissed the tip of her nose. “Unfortunately.”
She smiled, smug and beautiful and way too pleased with herself. “You know the Thunderbolts premiere is in three days, right?”
You groaned. “Don’t remind me. Red carpets. Public attention. You in that dress that’s probably going to kill me.”
“Oh?” she said, feigning innocence. “You’ve already seen it?”
“No,” you admitted, covering your face dramatically. “But I know. I’ve seen the fittings. The smirk you get when you like what you’re wearing. I’m doomed.”
She shifted on top of you, straddling your hips, arms loosely around your shoulders. “What if I wear something extra hot just for you?”
You swallowed hard.
“Florence.”
“Yes?”
“You’re evil.”
She leaned in, brushing her lips against your ear. “You love it.”
You didn’t deny it.
You were not prepared.
You thought you were.
You’d seen the dress at her final fitting — dark, sculpted, slit high enough to be illegal in at least three countries. But it was nothing compared to this. Compared to Florence walking the red carpet like she owned the planet, confident and calm and sexy as hell — like she didn’t know your brain was melting inside your skull.
Except she totally knew.
Because when she saw you — tucked near the press line, trying your best to blend in — she locked eyes with you and smirked.
It was criminal.
You stared. She winked. And just to really drive it home, she turned back toward the cameras, tossed her hair over her shoulder, and posed. Legs. Waist. That backless moment. You were dead.
A handler nudged you. “You okay?”
You blinked. “No. I’m not okay. I need a cold shower and possibly medical attention.”
The premiere rolled on — interviews, flashing lights, fans screaming her name. But your eyes were glued to her. You watched her laugh with castmates, sign posters, take selfies. She looked so alive. So herself. And also like she might actually be the hottest woman alive.
When she finally made her way over to you during a lull in interviews, you gave her a look.
“You’re evil,” you said.
“Hi, baby,” she grinned, sliding her arm around your waist like she hadn’t just destroyed your soul ten minutes ago. “Like the dress?”
You scoffed. “You know I like the dress. It’s all I’ve been thinking about for the past hour. I almost fainted when you turned around.”
“Really?” she said, mock-surprised. “You should’ve told me. I would’ve done a little spin.”
You groaned. “Don’t tempt me.”
She leaned in, her breath warm against your ear. “I wore this for you.”
You were sweating.
“You’re so mean to me,” you whispered.
She kissed your cheek — just there, gentle and lingering — and said, “You love it.”
After the movie (which you barely survived — between her fight scenes, those smug grins, and the way she said your character’s name in one particular scene like it was a sin), the two of you snuck out early to avoid the chaos.
You made it back to the hotel suite in a blur. And then?
Then she laughed at you.
“You were literally squirming in your seat.”
“I was not,” you lied, eyes wide.
“You whimpered when I pinned someone to the floor.”
“Okay, that happened once!”
She took off her earrings slowly, deliberately. “You like me dangerous, huh?”
You stared. “Florence.”
“Yes, love?”
“Stop undressing like that unless you want me to do something about it.”
She smiled — wide, soft, pleased. Then she walked over, took your hand, and guided it to the zipper of her dress.
“I definitely want you to do something about it.”
Your breath caught.
But instead of going further, she kissed you sweetly — forehead first, then nose, then lips. Her hands slid under your shirt, fingers warm against your skin, but she didn’t rush. She never rushed with you. She just teased — featherlight touches, smiles against your mouth, a low “I missed you” that made your stomach twist in the best way.
“I want to ruin you,” she whispered, playfully, her voice like silk.
“Romantically or emotionally?” you murmured back, dazed.
She kissed you again. “Both.”
You woke up tangled in her.
There was light filtering in through the curtains — soft, pale, golden — but you didn’t dare move. Florence was curled against your chest, hair a little wild, lips parted, one bare leg thrown over yours like a sleepy octopus.
You were warm in every possible way.
Her cheek was pressed to your collarbone. You could feel her breathing — slow, deep, safe. You ran your fingers gently up and down her spine, watching her nose twitch like a cat in a dream.
God, you were in trouble.
You’d never been this soft for anyone. Never felt this quiet. Like your heart wasn’t just beating — it was resting in her presence.
Eventually, she stirred.
“Mm,” she mumbled, eyes still shut. “Why’re you awake? That’s illegal.”
“I’m admiring you,” you whispered.
“That’s worse,” she said, groggy. “You’re making me feel feelings before coffee.”
“You always have feelings,” you teased. “You just pretend they’re sarcasm.”
She cracked one eye open. “Don’t call me out like that.”
You kissed her hair. “You were incredible last night.”
“I know,” she muttered into your chest. “I was there. I saw myself on screen, remember?”
“No,” you laughed. “I mean — yes, the movie. You were ridiculously hot. I think I passed out somewhere during the third fight scene. But I meant after. With me. The way you looked at me. The way you — I don’t know. Made me feel.”
She went quiet. Then she pulled back, barely, just enough to meet your gaze.
“You felt that too?”
“I’ve been feeling it since the rooftop scene,” you admitted. “When I was trying really hard not to kiss you.”
Her smile was slow, sleepy, and a little shy — a rare thing for her. “I wanted you to. Back then. I kept hoping you’d break and just do it.”
“I didn’t want to ruin it.”
“You didn’t,” she whispered, brushing your cheek. “You made it better.”
There was a pause. A soft hush. A heartbeat shared in silence.
Then—
“I love you,” you almost said.
But she beat you to it.
“I’m in love with you,” she said, quiet but clear.
Your heart stopped. And then raced.
You cupped her face, kissed her once — firm and sure and full of something so big it hurt.
“I’m in love with you too,” you whispered.
And that was it. No fireworks. No dramatic score. Just two people, wrapped in a blanket, clinging to each other like the world outside didn’t exist. You didn’t need anything else.
Until—
Her stomach growled.
Florence blinked. “Okay. I love you, but I also love pancakes. Which do I get first?”
You grinned. “If you play your cards right, both.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And how exactly do I earn that?”
You kissed her collarbone. “By staying mine. Forever.”
Her smile softened. “Deal.”
“Okay, Florence,” the interviewer said, smiling slyly, “we have to ask. Fans are kind of… losing their minds over your red carpet chemistry with a certain co-star.”
Florence tilted her head, all innocent charm. “Oh? Which one?”
“You know exactly who.”
She laughed — not denying it, not even pretending.
“Well,” she said, crossing her legs like she wasn’t a walking smirk, “they’re pretty easy to have chemistry with. I mean, have you seen them?”
The host leaned in, clearly invested. “So, the dating rumors. Can we confirm or deny?”
Florence smiled sweetly into the camera. “Let’s just say I’m very well-fed, emotionally and… otherwise.”
The host gasped.
The internet exploded.
You, watching from backstage with your coffee half-spilled down your front, facepalmed so hard you might’ve bruised.
Later, when she got off stage and saw your face, she just grinned.
“Too much?” she asked.
You blinked. “You literally flirted with me through a national broadcast.”
“And you’re welcome,” she said, stealing your coffee and sipping it like she hadn’t just committed war crimes against your self-control.
That night, back in your shared apartment, you found her curled on the couch in your favorite hoodie (again), hair up in a messy bun, glasses slightly askew, scrolling through TikToks of herself.
“Are you watching your own interviews?” you said, leaning against the doorframe.
“Yep,” she said without shame. “I’m hilarious. Also, did you see how many edits people made of us?”
You walked over, slid onto the couch beside her, and tugged her into your arms.
“I saw,” you murmured into her shoulder. “I also saw someone call me ‘the luckiest human alive.’ I think I agree.”
She looked at you, cheeks pink, a little sheepish now. “You’re not mad I said all that on camera?”
You shook your head. “No. I’m mad you didn’t say more. Like, tell them how you make me pancakes in heart shapes and how you hog the duvet but always end up wrapped around me anyway.”
Florence laughed, nudging your nose with hers. “Fine. I’ll give them the full report next time.”
You kissed her forehead. “Promise?”
She reached behind her neck and unhooked a delicate chain — one with a tiny silver thunderbolt charm — and placed it in your palm.
“Promise,” she said softly. “But this one’s just for you.”
You stared at the charm. At her.
“What is this?” you whispered.
“A symbol,” she said. “For everything we survived. For the movie. For how we started. For the fact that even after all the teasing and chaos, I still choose you. Every time.”
Your throat tightened. You pulled her in, held her like she was the most fragile thing you’d ever touched — and maybe the strongest too.
“I love you,” you said into her hair.
She smiled. “I know. I love you more.”
And somewhere between the thunder and the soft things, you realized you didn’t need a wedding or a spotlight or the world’s approval to feel whole.
⟡ You’re patching up your girlfriend but she can't stop touching you.
— fem!reader. Established relationship. Reader is a med student. Suggestive language, teasing and touching.
"I gotta be your best patient, I come in asking for you every time" Yelena sits on the toilet lid as you get the first aid kid from the you carefully made for her.
"We are the only ones in this house, Lena" you laugh, placing yourself between her legs. "And even if you have helped me with my suturing skills, I don't like the idea of you being hurt"
"Its part of my job, princess. I come home to you, don't I?" Yelena winces as the soaked gauze makes the cut on her forehead sting, her hands fly to your hips, fingers digging over your shirt.
"I appreciate that you come in one piece" you tilt your head, fingers delicately cleaning her wound as you watch her eyes close. "Sorry, baby"
"Its okay" she mutters through through gritted teeth, trying her best to remain still while you take care of her.
"Good job" you praise, doing a thorough examination of the wound. "It isn't a deep cut so I'll just get some medical glue on"
"Not bad, huh? I deserve a reward don't you think?" Yelena’s gaze darkened, her gaze looking for yours as you find the medical glue.
"Let me finish and we’ll see" you shrug your shoulders, focusing at the task in hand.
In a moment, you feel her hands slide from your waist all the way to your legs, she rubs the skin as she gets her hands below your long sleep t-shirt and finds the waistband of your panties.
"Lena, baby" you gasp at her touch, freezing hands making you shiver. Drops of glue fall into her cut, helping the wound to close and not leave a scar.
"Look whoʼs doing a good job, thank you princess" Her face relaxes as the pain eases, it no longer stings.
You smile, reaching for the bandaid as she slides her hand to cup your pussy. She lets out a deep groan as she feels the wetness through the cloth.
"Aw, princess. I barely even touched you and you’re like this" her lips fall into a smirk, Yelena’s eyes never leaving your face as you place the bandaid on her.
You stay still, frozen in place as your lips part slightly and let out a soft sigh. Yelena chuckles at the way you keep yourself still.
"What happens if I-?" she presses a finger against your clit, rubbing softly watching your body react to it.
You relax in her hands, your fingers falling to her shoulders closing your eyes. "Baby" you whimper.
"I'm having fun, aren't you?" her gaze darkens even more, bubbling at the way you try to compose yourself.
"You need Tylenol for your headache" you whisper.
"Fine" Yelena lets out a resigned sigh, her shoulders slumping with defeat. She’s always going to let you take care of her. "But after the pill falls to my belly, I'm having you for dinner"
"I'll be quick then"
"And ill take my sweet time" she sighs, watching the way your ass moves as you go to the kitchen for a glass of water and she stands up to find the Tylenol. "Get a glass for you, you’ll be thirsty!"
You laugh at the way she screams, there words echoing through the house. You mean it, you’re grateful she comes in one piece but the worry will never stop.
⟡ If you like it please reblog and comment. If you want more you can request!
Summary: Yelena likes to believe she has learned how to be a person outside the person the Red Room tried to create. Her favorite thing is to take care of you.
Warning: Post Thunderbolts*, no spoilers, period, period cramps, mention of the Red Room, Red Room trauma, no usage of y/n, reader has their period. fluff, no angst,
Note: Sorry, I've disappeared lol. I got a lot of other side projects that I'd love to share with you all.
Word Count: 1.4k
Yelena liked to believe she was getting better at living life outside the control of the Red Room. Sure, she was still fighting, but she was fighting to do good and clear some of the blood of her past. There was something she was still struggling to understand. For example, she failed to see the enjoyment of game shows that managed to capture viewers’ attention each night they aired. She liked the convenience of food delivery apps, enjoyed her coffee sweet, and loved leaving food out for the stray cats. She does not like driving in the city because everyone else driving are idiots, and she was dangerously close to killing someone. She would rather drink at the tower or Kate’s new apartment than get dragged to a club. But she goes regardless because she does like having friends. The very top of her list that she hates are reporters. The media wanted to twist every heroic act they did against them to prove further they were unfit to be the new Avengers.
Every question, every provoking comment caused Yelena’s jaw to clench and her teeth to grind. She hated all of them, and she wished they would leave her and her team alone and let them do their job. However, Yelena learned there were exceptions to the things she hated. For reporters, it was you. A new name to the journalist stage that got popular for a piece you wrote defending the Avengers in their second fight against Thanos. You worked for yourself, not under a big-name company, and asked questions different from your competitors. Against her better judgment and Bucky’s warning, you drew her in.
It started with a drink at a bar, where you did most of the talking, and Yelena listened. Then, it was dinner at a small Italian place. Dessert was from the ice cream parlor at the corner, where Yelena kissed you and tasted the chocolate flavor you picked out. Over time, Yelena opened up and shared more of herself.
The team warned her to be careful. They believed you were using her for your next story, but they were wrong. Every new article you posted, the details she shared stayed between you and her. You became a staple at the tower. Which was why Yelena wasn’t surprised to find you curled up in her bed and knew something was wrong.
It was a little past noon, and you were still in bed. During that time, Yelena was able to have training with Ava, a meeting with Bucky, and coffee for you, her, and Bob. She thought you would be at the desk you claimed as yours. You had a self-imposed deadline for an article, and you were strict about it —even having to miss movie nights or dates.
Yelena placed the two cups of coffee on the table and crawled into bed next to you. The bed dipped from her weight, which caused you to stir. “Hi baby,” you mumbled sleepily. Your body molded against Yelena as her arm rested around your waist. This felt perfect. You fit against her like a puzzle piece. Yelena heated to disrupt the peace, but she needed to know what was wrong.
“You are still in bed,” her lips grazed your shoulder, which wasn’t covered by your shirt. What is wrong?” You huffed and rolled onto your back to look up at her.
“Don’t feel good,” you pouted. “Got my period this morning.” Now, this was something Yelena would never understand. The Red Room took that choice from her so her loyalty would be to them. Instinctively, Yelena placed her hand on your lower stomach and pressed down. You sighed in relief and turned on your side. Your head rested in the crock of her neck, your breath fanning against her skin.
“Have you taken anything?” she asked. I can get you the heating pad and the tea.” You groaned, your hands gripping the front of her shirt. “Detka,” Yelena smiled fondly. These things help.”
“Don’t want them,” Yelena could hear the frown in your voice. “Want cuddles.” Yelena bit down on her lip to stop her laughter. This wasn’t the first time she helped with your time of the month, and she hoped this wasn’t the last. It was a mixed bag on how you would be. Sometimes, you would be miserable, not wanting any physical contact. Today was the opposite. You were needy and clingy, and Yelena loved this version of you. She was the only one who could see you like this.
“Alright,” Yelena kissed the top of your head. “Cuddles than pain medication.”
“Perfect,” you kissed her neck, and Yelena felt your breathing even out. She fell asleep, safe. Yelena was safe and happy here with you in her arms. She fell asleep quickly behind you.
When you woke up, the bed next to you was empty, but there were signs of your girlfriend—the heating pad on your stomach, a fresh cup of tea on your nightstand, and pain medication. The simple acts made your stomach flutter. This was the side of the White Widow that the public was blind to, the side you wanted to write about and scream from the heavens. Gods, you loved this woman. The past eight months have been the happiest.
A sharp pain in your stomach caused you to groan. Sighing, you put the pain medication in your mouth and washed it with the tea. You forced yourself out of bed and dragged yourself to the bathroom. You hated this time of the month. It hurt and made you feel gross, and your emotions were everywhere. But you were mindful to keep your complaining to a minimum around the blonde. It felt wrong to complain about a situation that was taken from her. Her choice was robbed of her.
In your mind, Yelena and the girls subjected to that monster were some of the strongest you knew. The piece you wanted to post today highlighted human trafficking in the States and the signs to look for. Maybe you could squeeze in a quick editing session once the pain medication kicked in. On cue, a wave of cramps caused you to fold over and lean your weight against the sink. “Fuck,” you groaned.
“Easy, baby,” you missed Yelena walking into the bathroom. Her hands rested on your lower back. Slowly, she straightened your back and leaned your back against her front. “Breathe through it.” You followed her breathing and mixed with her hands massaging your stomach - the pain passed.
“Sorry,” you mumbled, whipping away a tear. Sometimes, you felt pathetic and weak.
“Never apologize,” she kissed your shoulder. “Come back to bed. I brought you food.” The blonde grabbed your hand and brought you back to bed. Once under the covers, she placed the heating back on your stomach and grabbed a tray from the desk. “I was unsure what you wanted, so I grabbed some of everything.” She placed the tray over your lap filled with all your favorite foods. The simple gesture caused your eyes to swell with tears. “Hey, hey, what is wrong? If you are not hungry, then I can take it away.” The concern was laced in her voice and on her face. You waved away her concern and whipped away your ears.
“No, no, it’s perfect. You are perfect,” you took a slow, deep breath in. “Come join me. I won’t eat all of this.” Yelena climbed next to you and grabbed the remote. Without a word, she turned on a nature documentary. You loved these shows because it was a simple way to turn off your brain. Once you both had your fill, Yelena removed the tray and pulled you into her arms. The heating pad was off, and her hand rested on your stomach. The pressure was nice, allowing you to play with the rings on her fingers. You liked the little coos from her when a cute animal appeared on the screen.
This was perfect and a future you could imagine with her. You, her, in a house of your room with a dog and maybe a little kid running around. You smiled and kissed Yelena’s cheek. Before you could pull away, she held onto your throat and kissed you. The kiss was slow and deep, and it stole your breath away. “I love you,” you mumbled against her lips. Yelena smiled and kissed you again.
It was hard for her to say those three words, but you knew she loved you through her actions and how she cared for you. It made no difference to you. You loved Yelena Belova, and you would tell her every day.
The first time, you forgave your teammates for meddling in your crush on Yelena, leaving you alone with her for a movie night that ended with the two of you falling asleep, slumped onto each other. When the morning came, neither one of you said a thing about it. You assumed it was because Yelena didn’t see it as a thing, whereas you couldn’t stop thinking about it for days after.
Your mind was swarmed with her soft gaze, the feeling of her body pressed against your side, and the way she said you made her feel comfortable. To her, it had to be nothing more than a friendship, a teammate, something nice, but not something to be made into more by your imagination.
It only made you feel even weirder around Yelena as your crush caused your heart to nearly break through your chest every time she met your eyes or said your name. You just couldn’t do it, be alone with Yelena, in fear of you saying something that completely threw off the dynamic you and the team had built.
You had tried to explain that to your other teammates, but they said you were overthinking it and being wildly overdramatic, which wasn’t helpful.
What also wasn’t helpful was when they decided to meddle for a second time in your love life.
“I thought we were supposed to leave at seven,” you said, looking around the almost empty living room. You had your shoes and coat on in anticipation of the cool spring weather that waited outside.
The team had made dinner reservations as a form of bonding, and the only activity they could all agree upon was eating. But only you and Yelena were ready to go.
She buttoned up her green coat with a shrug. “I don’t know, but they'd better hurry. I am starving.”
The two of you waited for a couple of minutes before it turned into five, then seven, then ten minutes with no sign of your teammates. Yelena had volunteered to knock on and potentially break into their rooms to see what in the world was taking them so long. When she returned, she wore an annoyed expression and came with no teammates trailing behind with some excuse as to what was holding them up.
“They left us a note,” she said.
You furrowed your brows, confused. “A note?”
Yelena crumbled up the sticky note and tossed it in the trash. “They ditched us again.”
“For fucks sake,” you muttered. One time was mean enough, but a second time was cruel.
“Forget their flaky-asses,” Yelena said after a beat. “We shouldn’t let the reservations go to waste, right?”
Your heart beat spiked, and a familiar nervousness twisted around your body. Being with Yelena and at least one other teammate helped a little to ease your growing, embarrassing fondness for the blonde, but alone, you were nearly helpless. At least last time, you had the buffer of a movie. Dinner was too intimate, left too many spaces for you to say or do something stupid.
But as she fixed her bag over her shoulder and looked at you expectantly, you couldn’t find your voice to say no. You couldn’t come up with an excuse quick enough, not one that an ex-spy/assassin would believe.
Silently, you cursed your teammates to hell and back for the second time and nodded in agreement.
The table had only been booked for two. Ava and Walker were dying first, you decided. You’d kill them and then Alexei, Bucky, and even Bob for going along with their plans. They were all dead to you.
Yelena whistled lowly as she took a seat. “This place is fancy. You think they’ll have bread? Like, the fancy bread?”
You set aside your murder plot and laughed lightly, trying to hide your internal panic that would probably cause your heart to give out before the night concluded. Yelena, on the other hand, seemed perfectly fine with your current situation.
There was indeed fancy bread, and you busied yourself by picking at it and staring at the menu, avoiding the heavy gaze of Yelena from across the table.
It wasn’t until your drinks arrived and your food was ordered, leaving you with no menu to stare at and nothing else to divert your attention to, that Yelena spoke to you again.
“Did I do something?” she asked suddenly, catching you off guard.
“What?”
Yelena rarely looked worried or upset. There were a few times you saw her as such, and it was always startling. “I don’t know…” she trailed off, playing with her drink’s straw. “I thought we were, like, cool after the team ditched us for the movie night. But lately you’ve been avoiding me and being weird. Are we not friends? It’s okay if we are not. I just thought…you know-”
You had never seen Yelena ramble before. You almost didn’t want to stop her, but you didn’t want her to keep thinking that you were avoiding her because you didn’t like her or want to be her friend. That was the worst part; you wanted to be her friend terribly. But you were so scared you wouldn’t be able to do that and keep your crush at bay and keep things from being weird. Yet, you had made them weird anyway.
“Yelena,” you said, cutting her off with a swift shake of your head. “We are friends; we are. I’m not being weird because I don’t want to be around you. I’m not even avoiding you because I don’t want to be around you.”
She raised her brows in question. “That makes no sense.”
You groaned quietly so as not to draw too much attention in the nice restaurant. “I know,” you said. “It’s just complicated, ‘Lena.” Your feelings weren’t complicated; they were fairly straightforward, but everything else surrounding them was complicated.
“Complicated,” she said with a huff and a lighthearted roll of her eyes. “Is it really, or do you just not want to talk to me about it?”
“A bit of both,” you admitted.
Yelena was quiet for a moment before she leaned against the table on her elbows. “How about this? I tell you something complicated, and you tell me something complicated. We see if we can figure it out anyway, yeah?”
Your gut reaction was to reject that idea. You already felt yourself at the edge of a slippery slope, and it seemed like Yelena wanted to push you off of it. Yet, you also felt too deep in to back out. That, and you’d be lying if you said you weren't curious as to what Yelena’s complicated thing was she wanted to tell you.
“This isn’t where the team had made dinner reservations,” Yelena said, her voice steady.
You weren’t sure how that was ‘complicated’, just confusing. “What’re you talking about?”
She sighed. “I may have…lied.” You stared at her, wanting her to continue. “Since we watched that movie together and hung out, just the two of us, I’ve been trying to find an excuse to do it again, but it’s like every time I try to talk to you, you have somewhere to be or something else to do. You run away, basically. So I thought if I set up a dinner as our friends ditching us again, maybe I could actually get you alone for a little bit. Which I know is not, like, the best way I could have gone about it. Trust me, Bucky had some choice words about my little plan, but it’s not like I kidnapped you or something. Just a little white lie, okay? Which, I guess, is not that complicated. I just wanted to tell you sooner rather than later because I do feel a little bad about it.”
You weren’t sure you had ever heard Yelena talk that much at one time. She was a woman of short replies, drenched in sarcasm or light teasing. Each word felt vulnerable, something she had to really convince herself to say aloud instead of keeping it all bottled up inside, which was what you had been doing since you realized your little crush was a little more than just that.
“Please say something before I steal the bottle of wine from the table next to us.”
You weren’t sure what else to do but laugh. Not a laugh like you found her words funny, but more like a laugh of relief. Her admission made you feel a little better, a little more understanding. She set up this whole thing just to hang out with you; she wanted to hang out with you. Platonic or not, that had to mean something. Her admission also made you feel a little less scared of your own rambling feelings that overtook your brain every time you were around Yelena.
Maybe it was the nice, candle-lit restaurant or the fancy bread, but you became just brave enough to put your own admission out there. If she rejected it, then you’d steal the bottle of wine from the next table over and drown some of your shame.
“I’ve only been acting weird around you because I…I like you.”
Your words hung heavy in the air for a moment, just the two of you staring at each other. You felt your heart in your throat and kind of wanted to throw up as the admission of your crush left your mouth, especially as you stared at Yelena’s unmoving expression from across the table.
“You like me?” she repeated.
“I really like you,” you said with a sigh, staring at your hands folded on the table. “So much that I can’t even function when I’m around you. You’re just…you. And it drives me crazy, and then I act weird, but I honestly didn’t even think you noticed or cared-”
Yelena cut you off. “Why wouldn’t I care?”
You shrugged. “Because we’re just teammates, friends by circumstance, and because we have to live together. And I didn’t want to make things weirder by telling you, even though that’s what I’m doing now. I know you don’t feel the same, and I’ll get over it, I just-”
Once again, she cut you off, a hardening look in her eyes. “How do you know what I feel?”
Heat rose to your face, even more if that was possible. You almost wished you had some alcohol in your system; maybe that would have made you feel off balance for a better reason.
“Come on, 'Lena,” you said. “You don’t have to pity me or my feelings.”
She sat up a little straighter, not breaking eye contact. “I’m not pitying you. Have you stopped to think for a second that maybe I wanted to hang out with you, not just because we’re friends, but because I have feelings too?”
You blinked. “Feelings…”
She rolled her eyes, but there was no malice or annoyance in the action, just light frustration. “Yes! Feelings for you. What, you think I’d set up a dinner date for me and Walker because we’re friends? No. I set one up for us because you make me feel…a lot of things. You’re so nice and pretty, and it drives me crazy because every time I try to get close enough to tell you that, you’re running away. Why? Because you assumed I couldn’t have a crush on you too?”
For a moment, you sat in stunned silence, eyes wide and brain trying to understand every word that fell from her lips.
You had been so wrapped up in your own head that you didn’t even think of the possibility that Yelena could reciprocate your feelings. It had felt too impossible.
“Yes,” you answered truthfully.
Her features softened in the low glow of the restaurant. “Well, you are wrong.” Your heart skipped a beat. “I do like you. I like you so much it’s…it’s scary.”
“I thought you weren’t scared of anything?” you teased, trying to calm your spinning head and heart.
Yelena laughed as a smile stretched across her face. “You are the exception.”
“It scares me, too,” you admitted. “I just don’t want to screw anything up.”
Yelena hesitantly extended her arm toward where your hand rested on the tablecloth. As if she was scared you’d bolt, she ever-so carefully curled her pinky around yours; a small yet intimate touch that made you fuzzy-headed like you’d drown a bottle of wine, warm and smiley.
“I think we’re already pretty screwed up,” Yelena said quietly. “May as well make the most of it, yeah?”
You squeezed her pinky and nodded. “I’d like that.”
“Me too.”
bonus!
On the walk back from dinner, you held Yelena’s hand, but half expected her to let go by the time the elevator brought you to the main floor of the tower where the team spent most of their time. But as you stepped out of the elevator, she didn’t let go, neither did you.
“Do I spy with my little Russian eye my girls holding hands?” Alexei said as soon as you two were spotted. Yelena glared at her dad and squeezed your hand harder.
“And what about it?” she snapped, though with no real bite in her tone.
Ava met your eye, a smirk on her lips.
“So, where have you two been all evening?” Walker asked with fake innocence, abandoning the card game he, Ava, and Bob were playing around the coffee table.
“Out,” Yelena answered casually. “And now we’re going to watch movies in my room.” She tugged on your hand, and you laughed, a giddy feeling drenching you from head to toe at the almost teenage-like antics.
“No funny business!” Alexei called out, laughing heartily at his own words. Once the two of you slipped into Yelena’s room, sharing laughter and movie ideas to probably fall asleep to, the rest of the team remained in the living room. “Ah, young love.”
From the couch, helping Bob cheat at the card game by looking at Ava and Walker's cards, Bucky shot a look at the two. “See. I told you, you didn’t need to meddle for something to happen.”
Ava scoffed. “Oh, you think their date just happened on its own?” Bucky furrowed his brows.
Walker shook his head. “No way, man. We’re the ones who put the idea in Yelena’s head and handed her the phone to make a dinner reservation for two. We get credit for making this happen.”
In a rare moment of agreement, Ava nodded at the man seated beside her. “Meddling is sometimes the only way to make two idiots realize they’re in love.”
With a defeated sigh, Bucky settled back into the couch.
“Hey, Walker?” Bob spoke, a handful of cards in his hands. “Draw four.”
“God damnit!”
tagging everyone who requested a part 2 on the og post!
summary: when your fellow thunderbolts find out you have a crush on yelena, they make it their mission to tease you about it (and maybe help you out a little along the way too) - read part.2 here
warnings: some self-depricating thoughts from reader; crushes and meddling teammates; bucky is team mom
word count. 2.1k || masterlist
It started out as admiration, a simple feeling of awe for Yelena Belova. She was awe-worthy, an ex-window with skills and strength to take down attackers, a natural leader with a dry sense of humor, and a secret softie with an urge to protect those she cared for - whether they were a grown man or a rescued guinea pig.
Somewhere along the way, as the team formed and moved into the Watchtower, your admiration shifted into something else. You found yourself growing affection toward the blonde, laughing at her jokes that weren’t even that funny, offering to help her with errands to simply be around her, and stuttering when she tossed out the occasional compliment. It was a disaster waiting to happen, you knew that much.
A crush was one thing, but having one on your roommates/teammates was another. Yelena was hard to read and was so focused on the team that she hardly talked or did anything else. You doubted she time to entertain your feelings. And you doubted she felt the same way.
You were too in your head about it; you knew that. But it was hard not to be when you were constantly around her with a complicated back and forth of your crush and self-doubt.
“You’re doing it again,” Ava said, eyeing you from across the kitchen table. She begrudgingly enjoyed a breakfast made by Walker, stabbing her eggs with a roll of her eyes as he served you and her plates with a cocky grin.
“What?” you asked, averting your gaze down onto your plate.
“Staring like a love-sick school girl,” Ava replied. “And before you try to deny it, don’t.”
You closed your mouth, swallowing your objection as you sank back in your seat. Walker took a seat at the table, everyone else having already eaten earlier. “Are you talking about her crush on Yelena?” he asked.
“Oh, my God. Say it louder. I don’t think they heard you in Jersey!” you snapped and buried your head in your hands, mortified. Your crush on Yelena was supposed to remain between you and your mind, no one else. But your new teammates prided themselves on being nosy. Okay, and maybe you weren't the most subtle. Still, they could’ve done you the favor of staying quiet about it.
Walker laughed. “Come on, it’s kind of obvious. Even Bucky’s mentioned it, and he ignores us most of the time.”
“I’m going to throw myself off the balcony,” you muttered, sinking lower in your seat.
Ava even smiled, and you momentarily wished for her and Walker’s bickering over the current topic of conversation. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s just Yelena, not a shark. I don’t think she’ll bite, unless you ask her to.”
“I’m not asking her anything,” you hissed, glaring at the two. “This is not one of those crushes where you admit it to the other person, okay?!”
Ava furrowed her brows. “You have crushes where you don’t tell the person how you feel? What’s the point?”
It was Walker’s turn to be confused. “You tell people you have a crush on them?” Ava nodded like that was a super easy and normal thing. “That’s crazy.”
“What do you do about it, exactly?”
“Nothing,” Walker replied with a shrug.
You gestured to him. “See! Exactly. I’ll do nothing, and eventually it’ll go away.”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I expected this kind of emotional constipation from Walker, but not from you. But if you want to die alone, be my guest.”
The heavy footsteps from combat boots sounded, pulling your, Ava, and Walker’s attention. Much to their humor and your horror, Yelena strode in with her training bag slung over her shoulder and hair tousled from her session. You busied your hands with your mug of coffee and tried to ignore the heat that flooded your face.
“Who is dying alone?” Yelena asked, dropping her bag on the floor beside the counter and pouring herself a mug of coffee.
Ava and Walker exchanged glances with you, then with each other. Before you could get ahead of whatever they were about to say, Ava shrugged Yelena’s question off coolly. “Doesn’t everyone?”
Yelena raised her brows, biting into a piece of toast that Walker had left on a plate on the counter. “Wow, that’s a cheery morning conversation. Do I need to call Bucky and have him up your time at therapy, because I can totally do that.”
Ava glared playfully at the blonde before phasing beside her, plucking the piece of toast from her grasp, then phasing back into her seat.
“You bitch,” Yelena said with a grin.
You thought the conversation would turn onto something else, maybe a new mission or something unrelated to you and your feelings. But you had missed the mischievous glint in Walker’s eyes. He leaned back in his chair and looked around the group.
“You know how Alexei’s been hounding us for a movie night?” he said, oddly and out of the blue.
“Oh, yeah,” Ava said, stretching out the last word suspiciously. “Walker and I were thinking about it, and we…well, we kind of feel bad for shutting him down every time.”
Yelena looked surprised. “You two feel bad about rejecting movie night? Do you have fevers?”
“No, we just, we’re trying to be more of…” Ava glanced at you, a stupid smile playing on her lips. “Team players.”
“Yeah,” Walker added, sharing a similar look. “A movie night won’t kill us.”
You pressed your lips in a thin line, trying to figure out what the hell they were up to.
“How about you?” Yelena asked, drawing your attention.
Under the table, Ava kicked your shin hard. You bit your lip and nodded before finding your voice. “S-Sure. That sounds fun.”
With a shrug, Yelena agreed. “All right. I’ll tell Alexei movie night’s on tonight.” She left the kitchen, focus drawn to her phone as she texted her dad, who had probably forced his way into a morning jog with Bucky. Once she was out of the room and earshot, you glared daggers at the two at the table.
“What was that?”
They just smiled, gathered their dishes from their downed breakfast, and left.
“Uh, where is everyone?” You entered the living room dressed in your pajamas and carrying a blanket. You expected to see the rest of your team arguing over seats or popcorn bowls, but the only person there was Yelena, seated in the middle of the sofa with a large bowl of popcorn in her lap and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
She shrugged, tapping on her phone. Her brows furrowed as she read something on the screen. “Those little assholes all bailed,” she said.
You mentally cursed at Ava and Walker and started forming some kind of plan to get back at them. “All of them? This was Alexei’s plan, and Bob doesn’t even like to leave the tower.”
“I know,” Yelena hummed. “But I guess something came up.” She seemed much more indifferent about the team bailing than you, but that was likely due to the fact that you knew Ava and Walker had set you up to be alone with Yelena. How they got the others to agree, you had no idea, but they had.
You shifted from one foot to another, toying with the blanket in your hand. “Well, I guess movie night’s off then.”
Yelena looked at you oddly. “Why?”
“Because no one’s here?”
She pointed to herself, then at you. “Are we not here?” You rolled your eyes in response, and she smirked. “Come on! That means we don’t have to fight with everyone to pick a movie.” She patted the spot on the couch directly next to her before starting to flip through movie options on the screen.
Ignoring the quickening of your heartbeat at being alone with Yelena without at least one team member there to prevent any awareness you may cause, you joined her, leaving a good amount of space between the two of you.
You two settled on a movie rather quickly, and Yelena placed the popcorn bowl in the space between you. For a while, you sat in silence and focused on the film. You tried to ignore the little voice in your head that was in override at your current situation. If you didn’t want things to be weird, you had to bury your crush. Yelena was your friend, your teammate, that was all.
It wasn’t until the movie was nearly over that Yelena broke the silence. “Are you okay?”
You looked at her, slightly startled by the question. “Yeah. Why?”
She shrugged, eyes focused on the screen. “You’ve seemed weird lately.”
“Oh,” you said quietly. Have you been weird? Around Yelena, maybe. You know you didn’t interact with her as much as you had when you first met, but you didn’t think she’d notice.
“I guess I should have asked you if you even wanted to watch a movie, huh? I’m not always the best at that. Blame my dad for that.”
You studied the side of her face, gently illuminated by the glow of TV. Your chest ached; your feelings bubbled against your will. With a sigh, you shook your head and forced yourself to focus on anything else.
“No, I wanted to,” you said.
It was her turn to look at you. You felt her eyes and couldn’t help but meet them. A small smile rested on her lips as she moved the empty popcorn bowl onto the coffee table before scooting closer to you. There was still a space between you, a friendly space, but your heart beat faster anyway.
“Good,” she said, snatching half of your blanket from your lap and tossing it over her legs as she kicked her feet up on the coffee table. “If I’m being honest, I was kind of glad everyone bailed. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I do like those assholes. I really do. But I felt like we hadn’t gotten a chance to, you know, hang out.”
“You wanted to hang out with me?” The words slipped out before you could even think about it. You had a hard time understanding why Yelena would want to hang out with just you. It wasn’t that you didn’t think you two were friends, but you assumed you were just the kind of friends that exist in a group.
She stared at you like you had said the most insane thing. “Duh? You are…nice.”
The softness in her tone unfurled some of the tension and nervousness in your body. “I think you’re nice too.”
“The others can be nice, but with you I am…I don’t know…comfortable.” She paused as her words sank into you, sending your mind into a whirlwind of confusion. Then, she laughed, deep and raspy. “Sorry, that sounds crazy.”
“No,” you said quickly. “It doesn’t.”
Yelena held your gaze for a moment longer before she dragged her eyes back onto the screen. You did the same, a dizzy feeling comfortably wrapping its way around your head. Her words were the only thing you thought about as you began to doze off on the couch, mind filled with her pretty smile and intense gaze.
Tip-toeing into the tower’s living room, Ava and Walker led the charge. They stopped, peaking around the wall that held the TV.
“I told you,” Ava whispered, digging her elbow into Walker’s side.
He wanted to retort with a snarky comment, but refrained, smiling fondly at the sight in front of them.
Even Alexei managed to stay quiet as he fumbled for his cell phone and held it up. “Oh, this is getting framed for New Avengerz Christmas card,” he said in the quietest voice they’d ever heard from him. He snapped a photo, almost giddy.
On the couch, with a movie long since over, you and Yelena slept sharing a blanket, your head resting on her shoulder, and her arm draped lazily around you.
The sight was sugary sweet, even enough for Bucky to crack a smile.
“They look so cozy,” Bob whispered.
Alexei tossed an arm around Bob’s shoulders, causing him to tense up momentarily before relaxing. “That, my boy, is young love.”
Bucky chuckled softly. “All right, let’s not push it. And-” he looked pointedly between Ava and Walker. “Less meddling, okay?”
With a roll of her eyes, Ava replied, “Yes, mom.”
The group broke apart, leaving you and Yelena to spend the rest of the night sleeping together on the couch.
As they made their way toward their bedroom, Walker knocked his shoulder with Ava’s. “We’re not actually stopping meddling to get them together, right?”
Summary: It’s Yelena birthday and for weeks you struggled to find her a gift. Finally when you did decide on a gift you worried she would like it, she proved you wrong.
➥ Fluff
Warnings: None | 1.7K
Translations: detka (baby), ангел (angel),
AC: This is a little part 2 to Tiny Little Surprise because I enjoyed that a little more than I should’ve, and I thought of a little part two. As always, enjoy xx
You were used to waking up around 8-8:30am in a lonely bed, Yelena got up pretty early to train most days but since you surprised her with the little puppy you share with her, she gets up at 6 am just to take her for a morning run. You never heard a peep out of the two of them, maybe because Yelena was a trained spy and knew how to get around without making a sound but Franny? That little girl could bark! She’d park at the fridge until you caved in and gave her some extra raw chicken when Yelena wasn’t looking or she’d bark at the birds that would sometimes sit outside the living room window, almost like they were teasing her.
But this morning you were up at 7:30am, it’s Yelena’s birthday and you wanted to make it special for her like you’ve successfully done each year since being together. You enjoyed baking and would bake her all her favourite things before making her all-time favourite meal for dinner, mac and cheese with hot sauce. How your lover never got sick of the dish was beyond you.
Walking into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from your eyes you smiled once you saw a fresh pot of coffee calling your name. Yelena knew what you’d be up too today and made sure you had everything you needed. The fridge was stocked, the pantry was overflowing, and the dishwasher was empty, ready for all the mess you’d soon be making. Sitting at the island, drinking your coffee the thought of Yelena seeing the gift you got her worried you. You stressed for weeks trying to find something, Yelena never asked for anything, and she never hinted for things. This made her the most stressful person to buy for. You settle for a couple of small gifts hoping she’d like them, if not you just hoped that Fanny was enough to distract her from your poor choices.
The sound of keys rattled at the front door with a muffled voice, “hang on Fran, let me open the door first”. You giggled to yourself knowing that Fanny could probably smell the evidence of something cooking and she wanted to lick the floor clean of any drops. Fanny was still only a couple of months old and her energy matched Yelena’s like a missing puzzle piece. A little bark came from the hall, following by the pattering of Fanny’s paws running towards you. “Hi chubby girl” you chuckled once you saw the ball of fur sitting patiently at your feed, her tailing wagging in hopes you give her any crumb you had to offer. “Sorry baby but there isn’t anything up here for you today” you looked down at her as if she understood the word no.
“Good morning” Yelena smiled as she entered the kitchen. You dropped the rolling pin and quickly brushed your hands on your apron before turning to Yelena. She placed her hands softly on your hips as you wrapped yours around her neck. “Happy Birthday my love” you smiled, kissing her soft lips with care. “Thank you, detka” she nervously smiled. Birthdays weren’t exactly normal to Yelena yet. She wasn’t sure the exact date of her birthday, only the year, this is all thanks to the events of Red Room and them destroying her birth certificate. You told her to pick any day of the year and it would officially be her day. Once she picked, you marked on the calendar, February 20th, Yelena’s Birthday.
“Do you want any help?” Yelena asked pulling you closer to her. “Excuse me Belova, it’s your day. This is your free card to get out of doing absolutely anything” you gave her a playful smile. “But I’d like to help” she added, looking at you with soft eyes. Even though birthdays made her slightly uncomfortable you tried your best to make them as normal as possible for her. You knew there were underling issues like her parents not being around much or never being able to remember past birthdays and the idea of all the attention on her scared her but she’d never admit that to you or anybody. “Well, if you so badly want to help, I guess you could get a start on the decorations”.
“Decorations?” Yelena tilted her head slightly to the right.
“I may have invited a few people over for dinner” you smiled.
“Oh god, who?”
“Nat, Melina, Alexei, Kate, Wanda, the rest of the Avengers” you trailed on
This was the first time you were introducing Yelena to the idea of allowing others to celebrate her birthday as one big family. “It’s okay baby, it’s a dinner and some cake” you assured her after seeing the instant worry in her eyes. “I thought it was just going to be us three tonight” she spoke softly. “Wanda and the boys are bringing sparky so Franny will have a little friend” you kissed her forehead. “I promise, you’ll have a great time. I want everybody to celebrate you, you deserve it” you added. Fanny barked at the two of you for not giving her any attention, you smiled before looking down at her. “Aint that right Fanny, mamma is going to have a wonderful night” you cooed at the little pup.
“Don’t do that” Yelena spoke playfully, her Russian accent coming in thick.
“Do what?” you looked back at her with a smirk.
“You just told our fur baby that I would have a good time”
“Correction, I said wonderful” you chuckled as you bent down and picked Fanny up. Instantly she licks your right cheek before trying to nibble at your nose. “Do you want to help mama pull the decorations out Franny?” you spoke, scratching behind her ear.
“Ha! you mean literally” Yelena laughs as the image of Franny making a mess enters her mind. “Come Fanny, let’s go set up my own birthday party” she smirks as you place Fanny back on the floor. “Hey! You said you wanted to help” you playfully slap Yelena’s left arm. Yelena laughs as she walks off into the guest room where you’d stored the decorations, Fanny following behind her, step by step.
You returned to the baking and cooking, every now and then you’d watch Yelena pull out decoration after decoration, blowing up balloon after balloon while Fanny tried to play with them as they floated peacefully on the floor of the dining room.
“Fanny you are not helping very much” you heard Yelena mumble causing you to smile to yourself as you whipped the icing for her cake.
Once her cake was one you placed it in the fridge to keep it fresh before starting on the brownies, she has always loved from you. It would be a lie to say you didn’t have a sweet tooth. Your grandmother taught you most of what you know about baking, anytime you had a chance to bake you would take it without complaint.
“Okay the baking is done!” you cheered to yourself, taking off your apron and hanging over the hook in the pantry. “What time is dinner?” you heard Yelena call from the living room. You walked in to see Franny asleep peacefully next to Yelena as she watched some action movie you’d never seen. “6pm” you smiled before sitting beside her. “Would you like your presents now or later?” you asked her.
“Detka, we spoke about this, I don’t need gifts” Yelena paused her movie.
“Stop being so stubborn, Yelena, I love you and I want to spoil you” you admitted.
There was no arguing with you once you gave her your version of puppy eyes. “Fine, whenever you feel is best” she smiled. You sprung up from the sofa and rushed to the bedroom where you’d hid her gifts.
You returned to an excited Yelena who was terrible at hiding it. “Here you go my baby” you smiled, hanging her a gift bag.
“Thank you ангел” she smiled, kissing your cheek before she opened the gift bag. The first gift she pulled out were some small gold paw earrings. “For when you go on missions, and you miss Fanny” you smiled. “I love them!!” she replied thankfully. The second gift she pulled out was a bottle of her favourite perfume that she was running low on. “You found more!?” her eyes lit up as she pulled the cap off to remember the smell. “It wasn’t easy I can assure you” you chuckled. Finally, the last gift she pulled out was a small vest. Her eyes quickly darted to yours. “You didn’t!” she spat with excitement. With a nod you watched her unfold the small vest that resembled one the same as hers. She smiled widely as she slightly woke Fanny, “look Fanns! You have your own little vest!!” she said, showing of the vest to the confused pup.
“HA! It also has the same modifications as mine!”
“I didn’t know what else to get you and then I thought about how much you loved your vest and how much you love Fanny, I mean she’s literally your little best friend, so I thought why not get you matching vests” you explained, watching Yelena with happiness.
“Does this mean I can tak- “
“Absolutely not” you cut her off without having to hear the rest of her question.
“Oh, come on, please!!” she begged.
“Yelena, you won’t be taking her on missions. I already miss you enough when you’re gone. Fanny, she and I get to miss you together” you pointed out.
“I didn’t think of it like that” Yelena got up and kissed you passionately. “I don’t know how you managed it but” Yelena paused as she looked deeply into your eyes. “But?” you questioned. “I’m so deeply in love with you” she said softly. Yelena rarely shared feelings like this, she usually showed her love for you in other ways, never words. “Yelena” you said, speechless. She kissed you more softly, “you’ve made me believe in something I didn’t know really existed” she added. “That being?” you asked.
“True love” she said softly, her hands resting gently on your hips. You smiled, biting your bottom lip slightly. “I love you” you whispered before kissing her once more. Yelena wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close where you’d both stay like this for a moment, soaking up the moment. Yelena stole you heart 4 years ago and now, now you’ve just learnt you stole hers.
ᥫ᭡pairing(s): yelena belova x fem!reader (romantic), yelena belova x kate bishop (platonic)
ᥫ᭡summary: when a bad argument might spell the end of her relationship, Yelena must put her stubbornness aside in order to fix it
ᥫ᭡warnings: light angst, mention of a previous argument, a Kate & Lucky cameo, one pet name usage [prekrasnyy: meaning ‘lovely’ in Russian], Yelena’s fear of commitment being lightly touched on, a kiss in the rain
ᥫ᭡word count: 2.4k
ᥫ᭡a/n: it’s been months since I’ve written for Yelena, and this is an idea that’s been knocking around in my head for a couple days, so here we are. hope you enjoy <3
˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗
The sunlight seeping in through the blinds and directly into Yelena’s eyelids was a rude awakening on its own. But not ruder than the sour taste in her mouth from last night’s alcohol binge, or the subsequent spin cycle that the contents of her stomach had turned into.
And somehow, all of these uncomfortable feelings joined together couldn’t have made Yelena feel worse than when she looked to her right and spotted the vacant sheets where her girlfriend y/n should’ve been.
Yelena glances around her bedroom as if expecting y/n to materialize out of thin air if she wishes it hard enough, but when it’s clear that she hasn’t developed mind control powers overnight, Yelena is forced to face the truth. And the truth was that y/n hadn’t wanted to come back home after last night’s argument.
With a groan, Yelena pulled herself up to a sitting position and grabbed her phone, scrolling through the chain of unanswered texts that she’d sent to y/n the night before. She winces with remorse as she reads the messages that she would not have answered had the tables been turned.
you are being such a brat. just answer the damn phone
are you really going to give me the silent treatment over this?
fine. i’m sorry, okay? are you happy now?
Yelena sees that she must’ve sort of learned the error of her ways between the third and final text because her last message to y/n reads: ‘goinfg to bedd i’m relly soreyy huney goodfnighht’ The lack of proper punctuation along with the sprinkle of spelling errors tells Yelena that she’d been a couple Heinekens deep when that final text had been sent. Even still, her drunken apology seems to have missed the mark. Because nine hours later, she was still left on delivered.
Yelena sighs, dragging a hand through her matted hair before clicking on the call icon below y/n’s contact photo. She puts the phone to her ear as it begins to ring, but after six long rings, Yelena is redirected to y/n’s quirky voicemail. “…hey, you’ve reached my phone, but haven’t reached me! Leave a message,”
She dials y/n again, receiving six more annoying rings, and then y/n’s voicemail again. Yelena lets out a groan followed by a curse in Russian, drops her phone onto the bed, and slinks into the bathroom for a quick shower.
After managing to make herself look mostly presentable, Yelena hops on her motorbike and rides across town. She’s relying on the roar of the engine to help switch her mind off, but no such luck. All she can see is images of y/n’s face—that dimpled smile and those bright eyes, her soft hand in Yelena’s, kissing her during commercial breaks for the ridiculous American sitcoms that she always made Yelena sit through.
Then, Yelena’s picturing y/n bobbing her head to the music of that one post hardcore band she loves, mouthing the lyrics while winding her arms around Yelena’s waist. Leaning in for a sweet kiss that’s a complete antithesis to the hard-hitting beat. And then, Yelena was lifted onto the counter, and nothing else in the world mattered except y/n’s lips and her warm body against Yelena’s.
But then, Yelena remembers the yelling, the tears in y/n’s eyes, and the front door slamming. She remembers escaping to the bar for a drink, and then falling asleep alone.
Yelena finally looked up, realizing that muscle memory had made her drive herself to Kate’s building. Not exactly where she’d been intending to go, but if she was hoping to find y/n, then it was a good place to start. The two were good friends, after all.
Yelena lets herself into the building and up to Kate’s floor, rapping her fist against the door. She hears a dog bark from somewhere inside followed by someone shushing. Then a moment later, the door opens to reveal Kate in a heather gray sweatsuit, her hair piled on top of her head and…some kind of green cream on her face.
“Is that guacamole on your face, Kate Bishop?” Is coincidentally the first question to come spilling out of Yelena’s mouth.
“What? No, it’s a…I’m trying something new, okay?” Kate says, her tone defensive.
Yelena raises a dubious brow and Kate huffs. “It was y/n’s idea. She said that this mask would make my skin glow and—“
Yelena’s heart lifts at the mention of y/n. “Was she here?” She blurts, accidentally cutting off Kate’s self care ramble.
“I assumed she was with you,” Kate replies, a perplexed inflection in her voice.
“If she was, I wouldn’t be here, Kate Bishop,” Yelena hears herself snapping. She knows that getting impatient with Kate is not going to help her find y/n any quicker, but she can’t help it.
“Well, she hasn’t been here either. Have you tried calling her?” Kate asks, stepping back from the door to let Yelena come inside.
Immediately, she’s descended upon by a golden furball. Yelena just barely has time to catch Lucky’s front paws as he jumps up on his hind legs to greet her. “Yeah, twice,” she answers before engaging in a playful little dance with Lucky. Even when she sets his front paws back on the ground, he stays glued to her side. “Maybe, she’s away from her phone or—“
“I think she’s ignoring you,” Kate cuts in.
Yelena turns to glare at the brunette archer and sees her lift and wave her phone in the air. “She told me she’s at the coffee place on 10th Avenue,”
“When did she tell you that?”
“Just now,” Kate explains.
“But…she did not answer my calls,” Yelena says, confused.
“Like I said, I think she might be ignoring you,” Kate repeats, with a self-satisfied smirk that the Russian woman has half a mind to smack off of her face. But not in front of the dog. Lucky didn’t deserve to see that.
Kate must realize that her expression isn’t helping the situation, so she softens her features. “Did something happen last night?” She asks next.
Yelena thinks back on yesterday’s argument and her chest tightens. But she doesn’t wanna rehash the details. She just wants to find y/n.
“I’ve got to go talk to her,” Yelena says, ignoring Kate’s question altogether. She gives Lucky a few pats on his head on her way to the door. “Thank you, Kate Bishop. I hope your guacamole mask makes your skin glow forever,” she glances back at Kate, catching her deadpan expression and middle finger before she shuts the door. And maybe if she wasn’t so anxious to find y/n, she would’ve smiled.
Back on her motorbike, Yelena tests the speed limit as she races to the coffee shop on 10th Avenue—y/n’s favorite coffee shop and, if her memory serves, it was also the place where they’d had their first date over a year ago.
Y/n and Yelena had what could’ve been considered a whirlwind romance. After only two months, y/n was moving in with Yelena, and two months after that, Yelena was thinking about saying the ‘L’ word. Y/n of course, had beaten Yelena to the punch, but for some reason, even though she knew she felt it, Yelena could never say it back. And it had become the subject of quite a few quarrels between the two of them.
Last night had been far worse than other arguments. Yelena’s nail-in-the-coffin comment resurfaces in her mind now as she stops at a red light. “Why are you so hung up on a stupid little word? Nothing is going to change if I say it, just like nothing changed when you said it,”
Yelena knew it was the wrong thing to say, even before she saw y/n’s eyes fill with those unshed tears, but before she could even think about taking it back, y/n had stormed out. And instead of reflecting on what an ass she’d made of herself, Yelena decided to go down to the local bar instead; pounding beers instead of making things right with her girlfriend. Now, she was paying for that past Yelena’s poor judgment.
Yelena parks her bike in a free space in the coffee shop parking lot and kills the engine. She glances through the panel windows, searching for that familiar face, and her heart lifts when she spots y/n, dressed in the same zip-up hoodie and ripped jeans from yesterday. Had she even slept? Guilt curdles in Yelena’s gut, and she decides it’s now or never.
She pushes open the door to the coffee shop and the bell announces her presence. An employee greets her, but she barely hears it. Her sole purpose is to make a beeline for y/n’s table. But for some reason, her feet don’t seem willing to carry her the last few steps.
Yelena’s heart beats like a drum in a halftime performance as she stares at the back of y/n’s head. A steaming cup of cocoa (because y/n always said that coffee gave her migraines) steams on the table beside y/n, untouched. And Yelena watches as y/n stares at the dark screen of her phone on the oak table. Y/n starts to reach for the device but seems to think better of it.
Yelena closes her eyes, takes a cleansing breath, and in three quick strides, she steps up to y/n’s booth.
“Hi,” she greets.
Y/n looks startled for a moment, but when she recognizes Yelena, a shadow passes across her face. Yelena hates that she’s the reason why y/n is looking at her like that. She wants the bright-eyed, smitten gazes back. But she knows she’s not going to get them without a genuine apology. And even then, she may still have to work back up to how things used to be.
“Have you slept?” Yelena asks, taking in the dark circles beneath both of y/n’s eyes.
Y/n scoffs in response.
“Y/n—“
“What do you care, Yelena?” Y/n snaps. Loud enough for a few patrons to look their way. “You certainly couldn’t give two shits about me last night,”
Anger flashes in Yelena’s eyes. “If I didn’t care, would I have come all the way across town looking for you? And if you were so eager to hear from me, why did you respond to Kate Bishop’s texts, but not my calls to you this morning? If there’s anyone who doesn’t give two shits, it’s you,”
This was all wrong and Yelena knew it. She hadn’t come here to argue more, she’d come to make amends. Yelena opens her mouth again to apologize, to start over, but before she can, y/n rises to her feet. “I don’t need this,” she gripes. She starts to push past, but Yelena catches her wrist.
“Wait, prekrasnyy, this is all wrong,” she says. Just for a moment, she sees y/n’s eyes soften, and a glimmer of hope works its way through her veins. She knew how much y/n loved her Russian pet names. Maybe that was all it took.
But then y/n sighs and pulls her hand away. “Maybe it always was, Yelena,” she says. Then, she turns and walks out of the coffee shop.
Yelena is left dumbfounded standing there. And with an audience since a few patrons have refused to even pretend to mind their own business.
Yelena glances out the window, watching as y/n starts toward the crosswalk, and this is enough to finally get her stubborn feet to move.
“Y/n, wait!” Yelena calls as she rushes out of the coffee shop. By some miracle, y/n stops. But she doesn’t turn around.
Yelena kicks her pace into a light jog to close the distance. “What did you mean?” She asks when she reaches y/n. “What do you mean it’s always been wrong? You don’t really believe that, do you?”
She watches y/n’s face, watches as her teeth worry her lower lip. “It’s hard to believe I’m right for you when you think it’s stupid that I love you,” y/n finally says.
Yelena’s heart clenches, and she swallows hard before replying. “I don’t think it’s stupid,”
“But that’s what you led me to believe last night,” y/n looks up at Yelena, and Yelena notices that y/n had started to cry, tear tracks present on both of her cheeks. “You said it wouldn’t change anything, that there’s no point,”
Yelena absolutely fucking hated who she’d been last night. That she would have the gall to say such a cruel thing to such a kind girl. She hated herself even more because the truth was that she was in love with y/n. So incredibly in love, and had been since that very first date. She had never been so glad to have let Kate play matchmaker. But a year later, she still couldn’t say the ‘L’ word. And why?
“I’m scared,” Yelena confessed.
“What?” Y/n asks.
Thunder rumbles overhead as if warning Yelena to tread lightly. But she didn’t want to tread lightly anymore. That’s what had gotten her into this mess, into this fight that might spell the end of her relationship if she couldn’t get her shit together
“I’m scared,” Yelena repeats. “I’m scared that I’ll jinx it. That I’ll fuck everything up. You’re the one thing that I’ve gotten right in a long time and…I’m constantly feeling like you’re a figment of my overworked imagination,”
It’s started to sprinkle and around them, New Yorkers open umbrellas to shield against the downpour.
“I’ve never had the opportunity to tell someone that I love them,” Yelena goes on. “And a part of me is conditioned to believe that if I do…” she swallows around a lump in her throat. “…I will lose them,”
Yelena’s face is damp now, but she can’t decipher if it’s due to the rain or her own tears.
Y/n takes a step closer. “Look at me,” she says. “I’m still here,” Another step, and she’s gently crowding Yelena’s personal space. “I’m still here. I love you, Yelena. And I’m not going anywhere. I understand if it’s difficult for you to say it back, but—“
Yelena reaches out, holding a finger against y/n’s wet lips to silence her. “I love you,” she says. “I love you so much, y/n,”
The last thing Yelena sees is y/n’s eyes lighting up before she leans in to kiss her. And y/n doesn’t hesitate to kiss her back, her hands fisting into the fabric of Yelena’s dampened bomber jacket as she pulls her closer. Yelena’s fingers tangle in y/n’s hair as she kisses her tenderly. And when they finally break apart, y/n’s flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips are a sight to behold.
“I don’t suppose you have an umbrella,” Yelena speaks first, breaking the silence and making y/n chuckle.
“No. I hadn’t exactly memorized today’s forecast,” y/n replies.
“Then we’d better get somewhere dry,” Yelena smiles, holding out her hand, which y/n happily takes.
And with their hands intertwined, Yelena leads the way back to her motorbike.
˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗
🎵i don’t know how you got into me. down my throat and made a home in my veins 🎵
Notes : idk where I was going with this but I love Yelena so much like I need thunderbolts NOW i’m frothing at the mouth
also, plsplspls lmk if any of the Russian is incorrect, i do not speak Russian this was all from google <3
Recently, to make ends meet, you’d been working at a 24 hour diner as a waitress. It wasn’t a half bad job. The usual Karens every now and then, some creeps, but not anything you couldn’t handle. Plus, frye diner was just outside the most busy part of New York… and pretty close to the Avengers tower. Although you’d never fangirl, every now and then, you’d see an Avenger stop by for a 2am cup of coffee.
It wasn’t a regular occurrence, really, until one Avenger in particular started visiting. At first, the woman would come in maybe every other week. Then once a week, then before you knew it, she was nearly in your section every other day. Specifically in your section. Never any of the other girls sections.
Over time, you had managed to get to know her a little bit. All you really knew was that she was an Avenger—or, at least, something of the sort—and that she seemed to be there more often because of something with her sister, Natasha. Honestly, you kind of grew to like her. At first, she was definitely hostile. She’d barely speak a word to you. But, then, after a few weeks passed, you started hearing that Russian accent more often. You definitely couldn’t call her talkative, but it seemed like you broke through some sort of outer shell. You even saw her smile every now and then, although it was a rare sight.
Today, like most other days, the blonde came in late at night. You couldn’t help but stare at her eyeliner each and every time you saw her again. It was somehow messy but perfect at the exact same time. Plus, it brought out her eyes.
Anyway, besides you getting lost staring at her eyes for a second, it was just like normal.
“Yelena, hey. I see they sat you at your usual table?”
You walked over, seeing her looking back up at you just made you smile. Even though she didn’t seem like the kind of person who was big on expressing emotions to people she didn’t trust… you could’ve sworn you saw the faintest smile on her face seeing you each time. Plus, every time you saw her you knew you had a big tip in store—courtesy of Tony Stark’s card—so, y’know, added bonus.
“Of course. Can you just get me—“
Yelena starts, before you quickly interrupt her.
“A white russian? It’ll be out in five minutes.”
Yelena smirks when you interrupted her. She liked having someone who seemed to know her so well… even despite the fact that you had only known each other through the diner.
“Why call it that? I just want a coffee with vodka, you’re so… extra, Красотка (Krasotka).”
She chuckles quietly, her accent thick, as per usual when she calls you her favorite Russian pet names. You never really understood them but, still, you got the jest and it made your heart flutter a little each time.
“Because I want you to feel special, Yelena. I’ll be back out with your drink soon.”
You smile at her sweetly, turning around to put her drink order in before she can make any more comments. Yelena’s heart does that weird somersault thing that she’s really not used to when you say you want her to be special. She’s really not used to the whole idea of being… special. Dangerous, sure. Hostile, absolutely. But special? Not really.
A few minutes later, you return with Yelena’s drink and place it right in front of her.
“There you go. Anything else, Yelena?”
Yelena just smirks up at you. For weeks now, Kate has been egging her on to do something about the waitress she’s been crushing on. I mean, Yelena never got all flustered around anyone. She just seemed to have a weak spot for you. Every time you talked, you were sweet, you cared about her, but you were never boring. And god knows Yelena hates boring more than anything.
Kate knew how hard it was for her after what happened to Natasha. I mean, she literally tried to kill Clint Barton as a sort of revenge plan. So, she was doing anything in her power to get her back to normal. And when she was around you, it seemed like she was. At least, more so than around most anyone else. And, therefore, getting her confident enough to ask you out was the perfect plan.
And now, Yelena couldn’t really avoid Kate’s nagging anymore. Or at least that was her excuse.
“Yes, actually. Go on a date with me.”
Yelena says bluntly, causing your face to heat up almost immediately. She just smiles a little wider, her heart inexplicably racing as she waits for your response. Somehow, an ex red-room assassin is nervous about asking a girl out.
“A date… like- uh, like, now?”
You stutter, smiling a little. It was, admittedly, a little bit of a shock that she was asking you out.
“Yes. Like, now.”
She shrugs, mocking the way you speak—as she so often does—a little. She was full on smiling at this point, too.
“When do you get done with your waitressing?”
Her head cocks to the side, sipping her drink casually, as if this was just a normal occurrence for her.
“My shift ends in… three minutes, actually.”
You say, realizing how perfect the timing was. Maybe this was sort of meant to be.
“Perfect. Then you’ll come out here and meet me in three minutes?”
Yelena asks, seemingly setting your plans in stone before you had even said yes. At least she was confident.
“I- yeah. Yes, three minutes.”
You nod frantically, turning around to grab her check and finish up with your other tables—which were, thankfully, sparse at this hour—so you can go be with Yelena immediately. You never would’ve thought you’d be leaving work with Yelena of all people.
Before you know it, your shift is done and you’re already walking down the street with Yelena, standing close to her, but not quite holding her hand or anything. You’re almost nervous to be too direct.
“Yelena, where are we going?”
You ask, glancing over at Yelena, who seems to have a place in mind, just based on the way she’s walking. Or maybe she just always walks this confidently.
“I’m taking you to buy ice cream.”
She shrugs, glancing over at you too. This is your opportunity. Subtly, you reach over to try and slowly take a hold of her hand… and, to your slight surprise, she jolts away, as if you just burnt her.
“Shit, sorry, I- I—“
You start to apologize before Yelena’s pinky is wrapped around yours, stopping you in your tracks. You look down at your hands. Her nails are painted with cracked black nail polish.
“No, no, don’t apologize, Золотце (zoloste). It’s okay.”
She reassures you, shaking her head. The little bit of reassurance is enough. You nudge her shoulder, although she doesn’t falter, just laughs a little and pulls you around a corner.
“Where is this ice cream place, anyway?”
You ask, following along with her, gently swinging your arms. She smiles again, rolling her eyes.
“So impatient. You see that little park? In there. Next to a pond.”
She points ahead of you two no more than a block away to the open entrance to a lucious green park. You didn’t think she had it in her to pick such a… well, such a romantic spot.
Not two minutes later, you’re ordering yourself a cone of chocolate ice cream. Yelena orders a cone of pistachio. But, really, it’s not the ice cream that matters. She takes you to this little spot—right in the middle of a bridge—overlooking the pond, the lights gently reflecting off the water. For a minute, you’re both just standing there quietly, leaning over the bridge. Until you break the silence.
“Yelena?”
“Yes, Красотка (Krasotka)?”
“Why’d you ask me out?”
You ask bluntly, licking your ice cream. The way she looks at you, you’d think you just tried to explain trigonometry to a second grader.
“What do you mean why did I ask you out?”
She asks, reaching over and placing her hand on your hip, shifting so she’s standing behind you, her head resting on her shoulder.
“I asked you out because I wanted to go on a date with you. Because you are so cute… and I think I might like you.”
She says jokingly, swaying your hips gently, lightly pressing a kiss to her neck. It seems like she’s fully warmed up to you now, that’s for sure. The feeling of her lips on you sends a little shiver down your spine.
“Good enough for me.”
You reply quietly, giggling when she starts kissing your neck over and over, getting a little more clingy.
The way she holds onto you is so gentle, and yet her grip is tight. It’s like she might lose you if she lets go or break you if she grips too tight. You can tell, even with all of the confident air she’s putting up, she’s… nervous. It’s cute.
Not too long later, Yelena walks you back to your little apartment, holding your pinky the entire time. It’s a sweet little gesture. Especially for her. This woman, who had once been so hostile and who is still absolutely intimidating, is now blushing over holding your pinky. Like a middle schooler.
“Well, this is me.”
You mutter, standing outside your apartment, looking up sadly. You don’t want to leave her just yet.
“Let me have your number, Золотце (zoloste). I will keep in contact with you.”
Yelena says quickly, clearly not willing to let this be the last time she sees you. Plus, i’ve you’ve learned nothing else about her tonight, you’ve learned how persistent and how blunt she can be.
“Okay. Yeah.”
You nod quickly, pulling out your phone to let her enter her contact. She quickly types it in and hands it back to you.
“You promise to text me?”
Yelena asks quietly, her tone suddenly shifting to something a little more nervous. She seems vulnerable. You just smile softly at her and reach up, slowly, gently, very carefully cupping her cheek in your hand. The blush that spreads on her face is very obvious. Without wasting another moment, you lean in and kiss her. For a second, she seems shocked, almost hesitant. But, after a moment, her hands are back on your waist, gently wrapping around you.
“Of course. Every day, if you want.”
You say quietly, nodding. She smiles a little bit more, almost a sheepish look on her face.
“Sounds perfect, Красотка (krasotka). I- I will see you soon.”
She nods, leaning down to kiss you once more, just quickly this time. When she pulls away, she lets go of you, allowing you to walk back to the door of your apartment. Of course, you turn around once more to see her and she’s still looking at you. Watching to make sure you got home safely.
“Спокойной ночи (spakoynay nochee).”
She calls, causing you to tilt your head to the side in confusion.
“Goodnight.”
She clarifies, laughing a little and waving to you.
“Oh! Goodnight, Yelena.”
You call back, walking into your apartment, a smile still plastered on your face.
So I was listening to soft spot by keshi and I couldn’t help but think of Yelena processing her feelings for reader. Would you be willing to write an angsty/fluffy request with a happy ending for Yelena x fem!reader around this song? I’d love to see your interpretation of it, but understand if you ultimately turn down the request. Look forward to your response! :)
Soft Spot
Pairing: Yelena Belova x Fem! Reader
Summary: Dealing with a new life was one thing but dealing with feelings? That was something that took Yelena by surprise.
Angst & Fluff
Warnings: Mentions of alcohol consumption, Mentions of R using a dating app. | 2K
AC: Thank you for sending this! I don’t listen to Keshi, wasn’t even sure who they were haha but I hope you enjoy this! x
Yelena almost never found herself in a situation where she wasn’t sure what to do. She was trained to know what to do in every situation, every situation but having feelings of love towards somebody else. Sure, her love for her family was natural and something she held on to dearly but when it came to you? She was unsure, she was confused, she found herself doing things that she didn’t think she’d ever do, and it was all for you.
She watched her sister find pure love with Maria, she listened to Kate ramble about past dates and her secretly celebrity crushes and she enjoyed seeing Melina and Alexei rekindle the love they had. Love was never on her radar, she wasn’t seeking it, it didn’t keep her awake at night until she met you.
The only time Yelena would be seen at a party, or a club was because you convinced her it would be fun but really, she went for you. She never drank too much around you, always drinking enough to ‘enjoy yourself’ as you would put it. She never danced; she hated it but for you? She’d happily wrap an arm around your waist and interlock her fingers with yours at one of the congress’s balls. Moving her feet with yours as you both glide freely across the dance floor.
With you, everything was different. The butterflies you would give her whenever you walked into the room, the way your smile made her cheeks feel warm and how your touch sent a shiver through her body. Why did she feel this way towards you? Were you into her or was this just your friendly, open and bubbly self? Soon enough these questions kept her up at night.
So many times, she's pictured telling you, wanting to take you to her favorite place to think and just tell you that you’ve got her wrapped around your finger. Anything you needed, she’d find a way to get it, no matter what it was. She was there for you in a heartbeat. For you there was nothing she wouldn’t do, and, in many ways, that scared her.
In a dress that captured your figure perfectly, you entered the room, catching Yelena’s eyes instantly. “You and Kate going out again?” She asked, curious as to why you were so dolled up.
“Actually, no” you smile softly as you sat down on the sofa to put your heels on, “I have a date” she added. Yelena’s heart dropped to her stomach, feeling it shatter into a million pieces at the words you spoke. “Oh…W-well, do you know this person?” She asked, her eyes dropping low, not that you noticed.
You chuckled lightly, “Lena, that’s the point of the date”
“I know…what I meant is, how long have you known her or…. him?” The blonde did her best to not let the pain in her chest come out in her voice and she chewed at the inside of her cheek. You looked up at her, “they are she and we’ve been talking for a week or so” you answered unphased by her questions.
“Don’t worry, I promise to share my location with you and Kate” you added, giving her a comforting smile.
“Y-yeah, good idea” she said, trying to brush her feelings off.
“Are you okay Lena? You seem a little upset” you pushed yourself off the sofa and wandered over to her.
“I’m fine, just don’t really like the idea of these dating apps”
You nodded, “I get it, it’s not for everybody. But I promise to be safe and like I said, I’ll share my location with you and Kate” you assured her before hugging her tightly, “I won’t be out too late either so don’t worry yourself” you whispered, knowing just how protective Yelena was of not only you but everybody around her.
“Have fun” she replied, barely able to make eye contact with you before you wandered out of the room. She watched you walk away until you were no longer in sight before she allowed the tears to fill her eyes. Her heart breaking at the image of somebody else dancing with you, somebody else making you a breakfast smoothie before you hit the gym, somebody else being the one to hold you and keep you close at night.
Tear drops falling from her chin as she carried herself outside to her motorbike. Carefully, she put her helmet on and took a long ride to the outskirts of New York City. Finding herself sitting at a bench that looked over the city from afar. Her cheeks soaked with tears that she let fall to the collar of her shirt. Her phone buzzed “Y/n has shared her current location with you” the notification read in bold font.
Her mind wandered to how she had met you in the aftermath of bringing down the Red Room and trying to piece herself back together. Like Kate, you were a burst of light in a dull, grey world that surrounded her. It took her a little while to feel comfortable around you but to her surprise, it didn’t feel all that long. Then, as time went on, casual touches lingered a little too long, glances were held more than just a few short moments, each interaction was a small tug at her heart.
She struggled to understand why she had all these feelings; the raw and gut-wrenching jealousy was a tidal wave she had no idea how to navigate. Did she misread the connection you shared? Have you ever only seen her as a friend? Questions filled her mind while she replayed the last few years in her mind, eventually asking herself when did you become everything to her?
----
Days turned to weeks and needing some space, Yelena distanced herself. Using her work as a cover up for her sudden absence from the apartment You, Kate and Yelena shared. Some nights her thumb would hover over your phone number, wanting to call you but the thought of you with somebody else was enough for her to not call.
Then, one late night, while she was curled up in bed at Melina and Alexei’s with Fanny snoring peacefully by her side, her phone buzzed. Her heart still managed to skip a beat reading your name lit up her phone. She’d never unlocked her phone faster.
“Lena, are you okay? I’m worried about you” your messages read, tugging at her heart once more. She sighed to herself; she hated it when people worried about her.
“Y/n, Y/L/n, I’m good. Just crashing at moms, be home in a few days” she replied.
Three dots appeared on her screen, making her sit up properly in her bed while she waited for you to reply.
“Really? My full name? again?” Your reply made her chuckle lightly.
“Sorry. It’s habit” she typed before pressing send.
“You’re forgiven! So, when you’re home, we’re going to do a movie night because as much as I would like to believe you’re okay, I know you’re not. I miss you and I’m here for you”
She re-read your message several times, nothing replying with words but just reacting to the message with a simple thumbs up emoji before placing her phone on her bedside table and sinking back into her bed. Her mind drifted to when she would have to see you again, she felt horrible that she didn’t want to hear about how wonderful your date was and listen to how great this unknown woman was.
Those few days past and Yelena returned home, trying her best to keep you from seeing the pain in her eyes but she was so glad to see you again, smiling softly when you hugged her tightly.
“So, Kate is busy with Clint on some mission so it’s just you and I tonight!” You smiled softly at the blonde.
“That’s fine by me” Yelena looked up at you, “I’m going to go shower, wash the smell of pig off me” she added with a light chuckle.
“I’ll order pizza!” You said, reaching for your phone.
That evening, you both were sat comfortably on the sofa while an awful 80s’ horror movie flickered on the television, neither of you really paying attention.
“So” you said, picking at the crust of your pizza, “that date…” you added. Yelena’s heart twisted as she quietly swallowed the lump in her throat.
“Oh, yeah” she quickly spoke, “h-how was it?” She asked.
You sighed, “it wasn’t that great…the conversations weren’t really going anywhere, and I felt like I was talking to a brick wall” you confessed.
A tiny spark of hope ignited with Yelena, deep down she knew it was wrong that she was happy to hear those words come out of your mouth. She looked over to you, “I’m sorry to hear, you seemed really excited” she said kindly, but her heart skipping a beat at the thought of her chances were back.
“It’s okay” you smiled softly, “I’m actually glad it was horrible” you chuckled.
“Oh yeah?” Yelena cocked a brow, slightly confused.
“Well, yeah! I’d rather be here with you, watching this terrible movie”
Yelena lightly chuckled, “this is a horrible movie” she agreed. You looked over to her once again, watching as her smile soon faded. “So, your turn” you said, catching her attention once again. “What’s been going on?” You asked.
Yelena’s breath hitched as her eyes locked with yours, she wanted to come clean and tell you how she felt, she needed to but she wasn’t sure this was the time to do it. “My mission was just long” she lied, you didn’t buy it for a second.
“Lena, come on, it’s me. You can tell me anything” you smiled softly to comfort her.
Yelena sighed in defeat, “Well” she began, her voice thick with emotion, “there is something I need to tell you” She took a deep breath, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I…I guess…I have a soft spot for you. I have for a long time, but I didn’t’ realize just how strong my feelings truly were until you mentioned going on that date” Her eyes dropped, hating how vulnerable she was right now.
“I know we’re just friends and if you don’t feel anything like I do, I understand…but I needed to say it”
Your eyes softened with love, a small smile curving at your lips. “Lena” you said softly, “Why did you say something? I was so worried about you…you didn’t seem yourself that night and then suddenly you were going on some mission? I thought I did something to upset you”
“I know, I was being stupid” she replied. Gently, you lifted Yelena’s chin, locking eyes with her once more, “you are not stupid”
A long pause filled the room, the horror movie still playing in the background. “You’re an idiot” you added, your smile growing wider, “I thought you knew. I mean, you’re the only person I feel like I can actually be my true self around. You’re the only person I want to be around”
Yelena’s heart tugged with happiness, “You’re a very hard person to read, Y/n, Y/L/N” She smiled, the concrete walls that she had built around her heart had finally crumbled, all her fears and doubts turned to the same butterflies she felt whenever you would walk into the room.
“As are you! I mean, I only went on that date because Kate said it would be fun, and I should give it ago. I had no idea that you had feelings for me” you confessed.
“Nobody makes me feel like you do” she said in a soft whisper and with a surge of emotion, Yelena leaned closer, her eyes seeking permission as you closed the distance between you both, your lips meeting for the first time in a soft, hesitant but sweet kiss. A tender confirmation of the unspoken feelings that the two of you had built up, simmering beneath the surface.
“And now you know” Yelena said softly as she smiled against your lips.
“I’m getting married.” Florence rushed the words like a confession as you answered the FaceTime.
You took a moment to process, staring at the live feed of her chin as she walked somewhere.
‘Like, in a movie?’ You checked, ignoring the way your heart was plummeting inexplicably.
‘No.’ Florence told you succinctly. You tried to read her expression. She’d called you in a rush, you knew it wasn’t just for congratulations. You ignored the icy waves of sadness flooding you. The sudden certainty that you were losing your best friend.
You tried to recollect yourself. She needed you right now, even if she couldn’t say it.
‘Where are you going?’ You asked neutrally, not knowing what else to say.
‘Whole Foods.’ Florence answered immediately, blonde ponytail bouncing with each hurried footstep on the sidewalk. You wondered if she drawled the words on purpose, or if lockdown had given her the chance to develop an American accent.
Florence glanced down at your face on her screen. She pouted slightly.
“I need chia seeds.’ She told you seriously and you nodded with equal soberness.
‘Who are you going to marry?’ You asked.
Florence rolled her eyes.
‘Who do you think?’ She answered sarcastically. There was too much bite in her words and you realised then what was wrong. Stress emanated from her.
‘That’s big.’ You commented, trying to keep your tone casual. Something in Florence’s shoulder’s loosened immediately.
“It is, right?’ She agreed, chewing on her bottom lip as she crossed the street.
‘You love him?’ You checked, trying to keep the question as light as you could. You didn’t want it to sound accusing. You never knew for sure if Florence could see your crush on her. Sometimes, you’d see a flicker of recognition in her eyes. You prayed it was your own secret. It was painful enough just for you.
Florence nodded quickly, almost imperceptibly. You watched her hook a mask from ear to ear.
‘Can I call you back?’ She asked. ‘I feel like an asshole if I’m on the phone at the checkout.’
‘Sure.’ You replied quietly as the call disconnected.
You let your phone fall onto the bedspread, as you covered your face with your hands.
A dry sob heaved through you suddenly. A tiny piece of hope that you’d had no right holding onto, was finally being killed off.
You took a steadying breath. You stared at the far side of your room. There was a polaroid picture of yourself and Florence perched on the shelf. It was from several years ago.
You remembered the nervousness in her voice. Resolve filled you. Florence had a lot of friends, but you knew already that you were the first one she’d called. She needed you. You weren’t going to let her down.
Her face popped up on your screen as the call reengaged. You answered it immediately.
Florence was almost impossible to see, the high sun now directly behind her. She held up the bag of chia seeds with a victorious smile. You grinned back automatically. She was perfect.
‘So-’ She began, the same nervous energy humming through the phone.
‘Do you want me to come visit?’ You offered suddenly, cutting her off.
Florence’s breath caught.
‘Yes.’ She told you immediately, her eyes crinkling with an emotional kind of happiness. ‘Yes. I really want that.’
You shared a small smile. Florence’s mask was hanging goofily from one ear.
Her voice was hesitant when she next spoke.
‘It’s not that I’m not happy.’ She told you quietly. ‘It’s just a lot.’
You nodded like you understood.
‘I’ll be there.’ You promised. ‘We’ll figure it out together.’
Florence’s smile was your favourite one.
‘Missed you.’ She added.
‘Missed you too.’ You agreed easily.
After the call disconnected, you packed your bags. Your job had been furloughed and visiting Florence was something you’d been hoping to do for a while.
Ironically, you’d been trying to give her and her boyfriend some space.
After getting tested, you drove over the next day. You texted Florence when you set off.
You pulled into her driveway and found her sitting expectantly on her own doorstep.
Before you were even fully out of the car, Florence had engulfed you in an excited hug.
‘I hope you don’t greet everyone like this.’ You murmured sarcastically. Florence hit your arm in faux rebuff as she stepped back.
When she looked at you, her eyes were shining with tears.
‘Oh, Flo.’ You murmured, realising that she was crying. Florence didn’t speak again, wrapping her arms firmly around you, her head burying against your shoulder.
‘Missed you.’ She mumbled again. You didn’t answer, only tightening your own hold of her.
Florence led you into her house. You looked around curiously, this wasn’t somewhere you’d been to before.
There was something wild about the decorating style and it felt familiar to you. You smiled at some of the pictures that caught your eye.
Florence saw where you were looking and grinned too.
‘We look so little.’ She determined, hand moving familiarly around your waist. It stung to have her so intimate but you loved that she was comfortable around you.
‘That photo is from last year.’ You answered with a roll of your eyes.
Florence raised her eyebrows dramatically as she moved past you, throwing herself happily onto the couch.
‘We were so young back then.’ She confirmed with a grin, looking back at you. You didn’t disagree, sitting down next to her.
‘Is it just us?’ You asked unsurely. You felt the impending conversation and knew it was better to be done privately.
‘Yep.’ Florence popped the ‘p’ sound with false calm. ‘He’s at our other apartment. He thought we’d want some space.’
You nodded again, Florence had once told you he was a bit shy. Still, you realised that at this rate you might not actually meet him until the wedding.
‘How are you?’ You asked directly instead. The question had been burning since the moment you’d arrived.
Florence hesitated beside you. You let your hand rest on top of hers and she exhaled slowly.
‘I’m okay.’ She answered succinctly.
‘Surprised, shocked, scared?’ You offered carefully.
‘Shocked, maybe a bit scared.’ She admitted readily, seeming reassured that you were on the same wavelength. ‘I love him. But, I never thought I’d be married anytime soon.’
You threaded your fingers with hers and squeezed.
Florence’s head rested on your shoulder.
‘Fuck.’ She murmured to herself.
‘Did you tell him that?’ You asked quietly.
‘No.’ Florence answered barely above a whisper. ‘I know how much he wants this.’
You swallowed the lump in your throat. You loved her too much to speak and you hated the lingering fear in her voice
‘I want you to be happy.’ You told her. ‘Whatever that means, I’ll be by your side.’
You felt the warmth of her tears against your shoulder.
‘What if I don’t know what that means.’ She whispered, voice cracking.
‘Well.’ You paused. ‘I’m still not going anywhere.’
.
There was something subdued about the rest of the weekend that you spent with Florence. In many ways, it felt like you were helping her through a break up. She seemed conflicted and strangely worried.
She brightened when you asked for stories about their time together as a couple. She told you about trips they’d taken together and how much he made her laugh. You felt like your heart was cracking open, but you kept the same encouraging smile on your face.
It was on the Monday morning, as you sat together eating a cranberry-chia seed scone, that you asked your next big question.
‘Did you talk about dates?’ You asked.
Florence looked confused.
‘For the wedding.’ You clarified, smiling at her puzzled expression.
‘Oh, right.’ She nodded. ‘In two weeks.’ She answered casually, taking another bite of her scone.
You nearly fell out of your chair.
You swore loudly and Florence’s head bobbed as if she’d been expecting your reaction.
‘It’s going to be tiny.’ She informed you. ‘Just the officiant, us, his friend and you.’
She added your name with a playfully hopeful smile, telling you just how much she wanted you there.
‘Oh my god.’ You answered, trying to wrap your mind around how soon this would be happening.
‘Our friend’s house has a private beach.’ She continued casually, as if her friend wasn’t certainly a multi-millionaire. ‘We’re going to have the ceremony there.’
‘Outfits.’ You stumbled out stupidly.
Florence shook her head. ‘I’m just wearing my favourite sundress.’ She informed you readily. ‘Dress casual.’
It occurred to you that Florence was a consistently decisive person, with everything except accepting his proposal.
‘You’re going to look stunning.’ You determined with a bright smile, trying to move past your own shock.
Florence glanced shyly down at the kitchen table. ‘I hope so.’ She mumbled.
‘No bachelorette party then.’ You predicted, pretending to look very sad.
Florence hesitated and you prepared yourself for another plan to be revealed.
“Well.’ She started. ‘I was kind of thinking maybe I could come and stay with you for a few days.’
Your head tilted in confusion.
‘Of course.’ You agreed. ‘But, I don’t think that’s much of a party.’
‘I know.’ Florence elongated the words. ‘But, I don’t want a party.’ She shrugged and you caught her gaze flitting over to the photo of you both smiling, that was stuck to her fridge.
She turned back to you and smiled.
‘I just want to spend some time with you.’ She continued with a sheepish shrug.
Your heart twisted and you weren’t even sure if it was pain or love. Being part of Florence’s life had always been enough. You didn’t want to acknowledge this feeling of impending loss.
‘Drinks, snacks and movies?’ You forced yourself to suggest casually. Florence’s face lit up with private delight.
‘It’s going to be the best.’ She decided, moving forward to kiss your cheek.
Driving home that afternoon, you felt like your chest was heavy and hollow at the same time.
Florence’s parting wave was stuck in your mind.
You turned up the stereo in your car and tried not to let the reality sink in.
.
When Florence arrived, the morning before her wedding, she was bubbly in a way that you hadn’t expected.
She’d hardly texted for the last week and a half. You’d been cautious to push her, not sure if it was wedding or work pressures.
Florence entered your house with all the familiarity of someone who lived there. It wasn’t surprising, a few years ago she practically had.
She’d walked in with a surprisingly large bag. You realised immediately that it was almost entirely filled with an assortment of supplies. She lined up bottles of wine on the coffee table in front of her, before pulling out a stack of DVDs from her collection.
‘That bag is straight from Mary Poppins.’ You accused teasingly. Florence glanced up and grinned.
‘I’ve been so excited for this.’ She admitted easily, eyes sparkling slightly. ‘I kept repacking.’
You kept your smile steady as you processed your worry. Florence only over prepared when she was nervous.
‘How’s your week been?’ You asked casually as you brought over two wine glasses.
Florence groaned loudly and her feet kicked up on the edge of the coffee table. Her head rested back against the sofa dramatically.
You glanced at her unsure if you should be genuinely concerned.
‘That bad?’ You asked, keeping your voice neutral as you poured the wine.
‘He keeps making plans.’ Florence admitted quietly. Her voice sank the atmosphere like a weighted balloon. She couldn’t hide the fear in it.
‘I’m barely ready for this.’ She continued, her eyes locking with yours. ‘And he’s talking about the future.’
‘Kids?’ You gambled and Florence nodded.
‘And “planning our careers together”.’ She added with air quotations for his suggestion.
‘That’s a lot.’ You agreed, passing her the glass. Florence looked at her drink for a moment, you knew she was going to down it a half second before she did.
She handed you back the empty glass with an unashamed grin.
‘Fine.’ You allowed, feeling nostalgic for the slightly wilder Florence of a few years ago. ‘But, you’re not going to your wedding still drunk for the night before.’
Florence rolled her eyes. Still, she sipped more slowly from the refilled glass. Raising her eyebrows in acknowledgement of your request.
Without even needing to check, you took the Titanic DVD out of its case and set it up on your television.
When you sat back down, Florence snuggled immediately closer. Your hand stretched automatically across her shoulders and you gave her a reassuring squeeze.
Florence offered you a malteser. When you went to take it, she popped it into her own mouth and grinned cheekily.
You rolled your eyes and grabbed another. You could feel her silent chuckle next to you.
‘You’re the worst.’ You complained huffily, meaning the opposite. Florence didn’t stop laughing.
By the time the movie had ended, Florence was sufficiently wine drunk.
As the movie played out, she’d slowly shifted from laughing to a much more somber kind of inebriated.
She lifted her head from your shoulder as she got up clumsily to switch the DVDs.
‘Jesus.’ You muttered as Marley and Me started to play. You glanced at Florence as she settled back beside you.
‘You okay?’ You worried gently. Florence didn’t answer, adjusting to lie down on your sofa, head in your lap.
You understood the silent request for comfort. You combed your fingers through her hair absentmindedly as she focused quietly on the movie.
You wondered if she’d been looking for an excuse to cry. You ached with the thought of Florence being in that kind of pain.
You realised how unsure the future seemed, you just couldn’t imagine her saying lifelong vows tomorrow.
Florence began to snuffle as she started to cry at the movie.
As the saddest scenes played, her cries were uncontrolled and gasping.
‘Flo.’ You murmured, trying to bring her back into the room.
She turned in your lap, looking up at you with reddened eyes.
‘Come on.’ You murmured, encouraging her to sit up so that you could wrap her in a comforting hug.
Florence didn’t stop crying for a long time. Eventually, as the tears turned to hiccups, you led her gently back to your bedroom.
There wasn’t a question about her sleeping in the spare room.
She took off her pants and curled next to you in just her t-shirt and underwear. Her chest still moved rapidly with the after effects of her uncontrolled crying.
Her fingers curled tightly at the hem of your own t-shirt. You kissed her hair soothingly.
‘You’ll feel better tomorrow.’ You promised, not knowing if it would be true.
Florence’s breaths came more evenly and, sooner than you expected, you knew she’d fallen asleep. You stared up at the ceiling for a long while, trying to piece everything together.
.
The next morning went better than expected. Florence made it through several glasses of water and managed to reduce any hangover to just a headache. You were planning to leave at 2pm and had the address already plugged into your GPS.
You checked in with Florence regularly, gaining a thumbs up each time.
You felt an overwhelming rush of attraction when you saw her in the rainbow sundress that made her impossibly brighter.
Florence blushed at your reaction, and you saw her pleased smile.
‘Excited?’ You asked, regretting your question when a wave of tension immediately straightened her spine.
‘Nervous.’ She breathed, smoothing the dress unnecessarily. You both checked the time.
You needed to leave now. Florence blinked away a brief look of panic before following you to the car.
Another benefit to such a low key wedding was the lack of press awareness. Your nondescript car would attract no attention today.
You let quiet music play on the stereo and Florence breathed steadily in the passenger’s seat, her eyes closed.
She exuded nerves and you glanced at her worriedly as you followed the directions to the house with the private beach.
When you pulled up in the driveway of a very expensive looking mansion. Florence’s eyes opened and her attention focused entirely on you. It was like your presence was the only thing keeping her breathing.
‘You ready?’ You asked quietly. You still had ten minutes until you were expected.
There was a half second, a hesitation where you knew that Florence was going to lie.
She blinked slowly, her focus never leaving you.
‘What if the thing that makes me happy, doesn’t make you happy?’ She asked suddenly, voice abrupt.
You startled at the unexpected turn of the conversation.
‘You have to do it anyway.’ You answered with certainty.
Florence took a deep breath.
‘I’m in love with you.’ She told you straightforwardly and your heart stuttered. ‘I know you might not feel the same. But I can’t go in there and not say this first.’
Your mouth dropped, time shuddered to a stand still.
Florence covered her face with her hands briefly, breaking her eye contact.
‘I’m sorry.’ She whispered, but there was a quiet resolve underlying her apology. ‘I had to tell you.’
Silence lingered between you as your brain tried to process the impossible.
‘Don’t apologise.’ You told her at last, voice hoarse. Florence was perfect. This had to be a dream.
‘I’ve been in love with you for years.’ You admitted freely, tears beginning to run down your cheeks.
A bright smile cracked over Florence’s face like a sunrise in the morning.
‘Wow.’ She murmured. ‘We should have talked about this sooner.’
You laughed unexpectedly in agreement.
Suddenly, Florence’s eyes widened.
‘I have to call off a wedding.’ She realised calmly, and you revelled in the easy determination that she approached even the most daunting task.
She cracked the car door and you moved to do the same.
‘Wait here?’ She asked you, hand reaching out to stop you leaving the car too.
‘I need a getaway driver.’ She told you with a small smile.
You nodded, feeling high on relief and joy at the same time.
Florence walked into the mansion with her head held high.
Ten minutes later, she exited the same door.
Her head was still high, but there were tears tracks on her cheeks.
She reentered the car just as you started the engine.
You backed out of the driveway, as Florence covered her face with her hands again.
You glanced over to her as soon as you were back on the road to your house.
Florence looked over at you and, despite the tear tracks, you saw your favourite smile of hers stretching across her face.
‘I can’t help feeling so happy.’ She told you, a little dazedly.
You smiled so hard you thought your heart might burst.
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