yelena belova lovebot

requests are open!

[y3lenasbelova]

who is she? Y.B

pairing/s: Bucky Barnes x Daughter!Reader, Yelena Belova x Fem!Barnes!Reader

summary: Y/N Barnes doesn't know who she is if not controlled.

warning's: conditioning, identity crisis, let me know if I missed any!

Your entire life, the little of what you remembered of it, had been spent under some kind of control.

HYDRA.

The Avengers.

In some way, your dad.

It wasn't that Bucky wanted to be particularly controlling of you, but he knew that you were an adult, but some part of him was compensating for the way in which you had spent what you had known as your "childhood". In which HYDRA's version of a childhood was spending hours upon hours in a dark room, watching and studying the fighting style of the girls in the red room, the fighting style of the Winter Soldier, the man that they called your father.  You were their star child. Born and reared in HYDRA, you were the blank slate that they always wanted - You had never known any different than the conditions in which you were raised, so you had no reason to resist their methods and their madness. You were 6 when they sent you on your first mission, infiltrate and disable a SHIELD database, eliminating any targets you found along the way. Using you was effective, who would think that a little girl would cause such chaos and pain?

You would go on to spend the next 8 years of your life doing HYDRA's dirty work, before your father and the so called Avengers rescued you from the claws of HYDRA. In your first few weeks with the Avengers, you noticed just how overbearing your dad, although you refused to refer to him as such, could be. It wasn’t that Bucky wanted to be controlling. He tried, really, to let you breathe. But the thing was — he had this constant, gnawing guilt. Guilt for what had happened to you, for everything that had been done to you in your 15 years of living. His guilt shone through as overprotectiveness, which in turn became its own kind of cage. Not the chains and shock collars like HYDRA used, no. But constant check-ins. Hovering. Overcompensation.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        

And you? You didn’t even know what you wanted, most days. Who you were supposed to be. They said that they had rescued you, but in all honesty? You didn't feel as though you had been rescued. You didn’t feel saved. You felt...displaced. Like a weapon someone set down on a table and wasn’t sure what to do with next.

Bucky had  tried to tell you that you were free now, that you had choices.

But no one told you how to be a person.

How do you choose your favorite food when you’ve never tasted half the options? How do you choose your clothes when you were raised in identical black training uniforms? How do you choose who you are when everything about you — from your reflexes to your opinions — had been engineered, rehearsed, conditioned? In HYDRA, you weren't a person. You weren't even a number. You were just...theirs. A weapon. Something expendable, yet not at the same time. Their prized possession. It got to the point that you refused to be near any of the team, opting to lock yourself in your room, staying far away from them, just in the case that you lashed out and fell back into your old habits.

Even though you knew that they had implanted a failsafe chip in your spine.

50 Volts in your lower spine. You'd drop down like it was nothing if they activated it.

Most nights, your dad found you sat cross-legged on the edge of the Avengers compound roof, fifteen stories up, a sharp wind tugging at your hair - Which during an episode in which you needed to do something before you hurt yourself, you had cut short, it was choppy, and admittedly a shit job, but it was something that you had done for you. You leaned forward slightly, arms resting on your knees, eyes locked on the distant skyline. You weren't afraid of falling. Falling was familiar. Falling was easy.

Behind you, the heavy rooftop door creaked open. You didn’t bother to turn, you already knew who it was.

“Thought I’d find you up here,” Bucky’s voice said quietly. You felt your jaw clench as you let out a deep sigh.

“Did they send you to babysit me?”

“No.” His footsteps were soft, measured. “I came on my own.”

He settled a few feet away, not too close — maybe he understood enough not to crowd you. Or maybe he was like the others, scared that you would flip in an instance.

For a while, the two of you just sat there in the silence, the wind tugging at their jackets, the low hum of traffic rising up from below. The question had been bubbling in your chest for weeks, but you could never find a good moment to ask, or even blurt it out, as you so often did.

Finally, you broke the silence that settled between the two of you. “Why do you care so much?”

Bucky let out a soft breath. “Because you’re my daughter.”

You snorted, bitter and sharp. “You didn’t even know I existed until like, last year, Bucky.” You said sharply, shaking your head. His shoulders stiffened at your sharp and pointed tone.

 “That wasn’t my choice.”

“No.” You turned her head slightly, eyes narrow. “But it’s convenient, right? Now you can make it up to yourself. Play the hero. Fix what they did to you by fixing me.”

Bucky flinched. He didn’t deny it.

letting out a shaky breath, you looked away again. “I don’t even know who I am, Bucky. Am I supposed to be your daughter? An Avenger? Some normal teenager? I can’t — I don’t know how to be anything.” You voice cracked slightly. “All I know is missions. Orders. Targets. I don't know how to be something unless I'm being controlled."

Sighing, Bucky rubbed his metal hand over his face. “I know.”

“No, you don’t,” You snapped, whirling on him. “You had a life before. Friends. Family. Memories. I don’t have anything. I don’t even know what my favorite color is. I don’t know what I like to eat. I don’t know what music I like. All I know is how to fight and how to kill.”

He looked at you, pain flickering in his eyes. “I don’t have many memories, either.”

You froze.

Bucky’s voice was rough, his gaze far away. “I remember flashes. My sister’s laugh. The sound of my mom’s voice. Then nothing. Then — the Winter Soldier.” His metal fingers clenched slightly. “We both lost a lot, kid. But that doesn’t mean we’re nothing. It doesn’t mean we can’t figure out who we are now.”

You laughed. You laughed in his face, shaking your head.

"No. You lost a lot, Bucky. You lost those flashes, you lost your sisters laugh, the sound of your moms voice. I didn't have anything to lose. I didn't know what you looked like, I didn't know what it felt like to be held and know what my name was." Tears were bubbling in your eyes, and a silence stretched between the two of you. Finally, you let out a shaky, bitter laugh. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Neither do I,” Bucky admitted quietly. “We’ll figure it out.”

For the first time that night, you let yourself  lean back just slightly, shoulders relaxing a fraction. You still didn’t look at him, but didn’t move away either, instead resting your head on his shoulder.

And Bucky just sat there beside you, both of you staring out over the city, two broken people trying — clumsily, awkwardly — to learn how to heal.

Years later, you found yourself on that same rooftop.

Only now, you almost kind of knew who you were. You were learning to be you, and you were especially learning how to love. It hadn't taken long for you to fall for Yelena, especially with the way she took care of you, and the way that you took care of her. The sky was heavy with stars, scattered across the dark like shards of broken glass.

You sat on the the highest point of the tower, your legs swinging over the side, the wind brushing against you face. You had always liked the quiet before a mission — not because it was calming, but because it sharpened you, it woke you up. It reminded you of the weight of it all, the possibility that every “next time” might not come.

You didn’t have to turn as the heavy door behind you creaked open and then closed.

“Are you brooding up here again, detka?” Yelena’s teasing voice floated over.

You smiled faintly, shaking your head. “Not brooding. Just… thinking.” Yelena came to stand beside you, her arms crossed over her chest. She looked out over the city, her expression unreadable. The wind caught strands of her blonde hair, pulling them loose from behind her ear. 

“About the mission?”

You hesitated. “Not just that.”

Yelena crouched down beside you, resting her elbows on her knees. “Tell me.”

You let out a slow breath. “Do you ever wonder… if you’re really the person you think you are? Or if you’re just the product of everything that’s been done to you?” She kept her eyes on the skyline. “I spent so long under other people’s control. HYDRA. The Red Room. Even after they ‘freed’ me, I didn’t know who I was without them. And now, I tell myself I’m building something new. But sometimes I wonder…”

Yelena was quiet for a moment. Then, softly, “I think about that, too.”

You turned, surprised. It wasn't often that you and Yelena opened up to each other like this.

Yelena gave her a small, wry smile. “You know my past, moya lyubov. The Red Room trained us to be perfect, disposable. Sometimes I wonder if the person I am now is real, or just what I was made to be.” She reached out, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “But then I look at you, and I think — maybe we’re more than what they made us.”

You swallowed hard, eyes leaving your girlfriend. “What if I mess this up, Lena? What if I’m just pretending to be someone better?”

Yelena leaned in, pressing her forehead gently to yours. “Then we’ll be two broken girls pretending together. And maybe, one day, we’ll realize we’re not pretending at all.”

you closed your eyes, your fingers tightening on Yelena’s sleeve. The familiar buzz of mission prep crackled over their earpieces, voices calling for team readiness.

“I should go suit up,” you murmured, smiling shyly at Yelena.

Yelena kissed you softly on the cheek. “I’ll be right behind you.”

You lingered for a moment longer on the edge, feeling the wind against your face, the weight of her past pressing on your chest — but this time, it didn’t feeling crushing and all consuming. you stood, turning toward Yelena, and together they headed downstairs - Hand in hand, even if you both thought it was cringe.

Whatever waited for you tomorrow, then you would face it side by side.

a/n: MY FIRST FULL MARVEL FIC IN LIKE 5 YEARS OH EM GEE

[y3lenasbelova]

Omg what a surprise seeing you here, I randomly found myself at your blog again, how weird!

Anyway :3 just wanted to request a little thing between Yelena and fem or gn reader where one of them is painting the others nails (don't mind who!) and they end up having their first kiss together :3

omg not you again??? JK I love you !!!

fic below the cut!

"I told you, pink is most definitely my colour"

You giggled and shook your head, blowing on Yelena's hands as you tried to encourage the fresh coat of nail polish on her finger nails to dry quicker.

The night before your first mission away from your girlfriend had come in quickly, the light from the sun now long replaced by the illumination provided by the moon, along with the nightlife of New York City. Despite the dark, you had done a killer job of your girlfriend's manicure.

"I never doubted you, baby," You smiled up at her, taking in just how beautiful Yelena was, even if she never saw it. "I'm gonna miss you so much when I'm gone, I would much rather have to put up with your snoring rather than Walker's." The two of you laughed, resting your foreheads against each others, drinking in the comfortable silence of just being together.

You smiled as you gazed into Yelena's eyes, studying her as if she hung the moon and the stars.

It wasn't long before your own eyes widened in surprised as she pressed her lips to yours. Mere seconds after the initial shock of your kiss wore off, you leaned into the kiss, shifting to sit on your knees and lean forward, placing your hands on both sides of Yelena's face. If it weren't for the fact you were both running out of breath, you were sure that the two of you would have stayed in this moment forever.

"Well, that was-"

"I love you," Yelena blurted out, giving you a small, almost awkward smile as she confessed it.

"I love you too, baby," You grinned, leaning forward to kiss her again, causing a blush to creep across her cheeks. "Now, I believe its my turn for a manicure, my love."

"I think that we should have matching shades of pink!"

[y3lenasbelova]

Hiii it's me :3

I was wondering for Joaquin if him and the reader went out on a date for ice cream? I know he's a big kid at heart!! ✨🩷

omg fancy seeing you here x

It was late at night when Joaquin had dragged you out of the comfort of your apartment, while in your pyjamas, and to the ice cream store. Were you tired? Yes. Slightly pissed off that he didn't give you the chance to put real clothes on? Absolutely. But, he had been gone on a long, torturously so, mission with Sam, and you knew that he just wanted to spend time with you.

So if that meant going to the ice cream parlour at 11pm on a Wednesday night, who were you to deny your boyfriend?

"What flavour are you gonna get?" He asked you, smiling over at you from the drivers seat whilst you tried to keep yourself awake. You smiled sleepily and shrugged your shoulders, turning on your side to look at Joaquin, whose hand rested on your thigh, while the other one held the steering wheel. "I think you should branch out, you always get Rocky Road."

"I like that one," You pouted, furrowing your brows and huffing. "You're the one that dragged me out of bed, I think I'm allowed to get the ice cream flavour that I want." Giggling, you put your hand over his, lacing your fingers together and sighing. At this point, it was tough fighting sleep, the soft hum of the electric car, the warmth of your boyfriend - You were well and truly losing this fight.

"You didn't take much convincing after I told you it was my treat," He smiled over at you, pulling into the parking space directly outside of the small store. "So, what flavour do you want?" He asked, even though he already knew that you wanted two scoops of rocky road, and that you would most likely end up with some of his too.

Not that he minded, if you asked he'd somehow give you the moon and the stars, so some ice cream compared to that? Tame.

"Do you even have to ask?" You smiled, leaning over the console to press a small kiss to his lips, the two of you grinning and giggling as you pulled away. "I love you."

"I love you too," He smiled. "But you need to pick a new flavour next time."

⭐︎

A/N: Okay first fic 🫣

[y3lenasbelova]

About Me!⭐︎

Hello!

My name is Amy, I am 22 years old and I live in Vancouver!

I wrote for marvel way back and after seeing thunderbolts it really put me back in the mood, so here I am again 6 years later!

I usually write platonic fics, but I have started branching out into romantic fics, although I do still love a good platonic piece - You can see who I write for and in which capacity for below!

Bucky Barnes; Platonic

Natasha Romanoff: Platonic

Steve Rogers: Platonic

Joaquin Torres: Platonic and Romantic

Yelena Belova: Platonic and Romantic

If you have any requests, questions, or want to chat? My inbox is always open!