⮕ 𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐓 ❘ [𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖛𝖊𝖑 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖙𝖘]

━━━━ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒀𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒂 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒖𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆

TIMELINE｡˚ ⁀➷ Red Room days

WARNING｡˚ ⁀➷ None, Just Fluff, A bit of groping

PAIRING｡˚ ⁀➷ Yelena Belova x Y/N Dmitri

SUMMARY｡˚ ⁀➷ Yelena just wants to cuddle after having a bad mission and you're there to hold her through it.

꧁꧂

"Belova, I'm talking to you," one of the Widows snapped, her voice firm, but laced with uncertainty.

Yelena didn't look up. She sat on the edge of her cot, elbows on her knees, eyes locked on the floor. Her posture was tense, her jaw set.

"But I am not," Yelena retorted, voice cold. "That means you should leave."

The tension in the room was thick.

"What is going on here?" you asked, stepping into the room. You were still in your usual Red Room attire—iconic, commanding. The moment you entered, silence swept over the group.

The Widow speaking to Yelena faltered, visibly shrinking under your gaze. Everyone knew who you were. Being Madam B's daughter carried significance—and fear.

"We were just talking," she mumbled quickly. Some of the others had moved behind her, clearly unsure whether to stay or run.

"Leave," you said, voice flat and ice-cold. "All of you."

No one moved.

You narrowed your eyes. "I said, leave. Unless you'd like to see what would happen to you otherwise."

That was enough. The room emptied in seconds, the other Widows scurrying away without another word.

Once they were gone, you crossed the room and crouched in front of Yelena. "What happened?"

She didn't answer. Her eyes shut tightly, chin dipping down as if trying to disappear into herself.

You reached out, but she leaned back from your hand, flinching slightly.

Whatever it was—it had shaken her.

You gently cupped her chin and made her look at you.

Her lips trembled, tears welling in her eyes. Her whole face crumpled.

"Oh, lyubov," you murmured, your voice softening. You shifted, kneeling properly in front of her. "What is it?"

Without a word, Yelena pulled you into her lap, positioning you to straddle her.

You wrapped your arms around her immediately, guiding her face into the crook of your neck, holding her close, "Did someone hurt you?" you asked.

"No," she whispered, leaning into your touch when you cupped her cheek.

"Kiss me. Please. Hard," Yelena begged.

You didn't hesitate. You never could, not with her.

You leaned in and kissed her, your mouths moving in sync—desperate, consuming. She gave herself over to you entirely, letting you lead. This was what she needed—this closeness, this fire—to pull her back from the edge.

You were her peace.

Her hands slid down to yours, guiding them up to her chest, over the thin tank top she wore. She needed to feel you. All of you.

You obeyed, cupping the soft flesh through the fabric. She sighed, arching into your touch, grounding herself in the sensation. Your fingers trailed beneath her top, slipping under the hem and up her warm skin.

Yelena gasped softly at the coolness of your palms. She moaned when you squeezed her breasts fully, your thumbs brushing gentle circles around her nipples.

"Yelena?"

"Mm?"

"I need you to tell me what's bothering you before we go any further."

"It's just me," you whispered.

She was quiet for a long moment, breathing shallowly against your neck. Then she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"It was a bad mission," she started, eyes still closed, "We were in this building... just routine cleanup, you know? Get in, get rid of the witnesses, extract the target. Easy."

You stayed still, letting her speak.

"There was this little girl. She couldn't have been more than seven. Curly hair, big brown eyes. She was hiding behind this crate when we found her,"

Yelena swallowed hard. Her hands gripped your shirt like a lifeline.

"She didn't scream. She just... looked at me. Like she knew. Like she knew exactly what I was. What I was there to do."

You didn't say anything—just brushed your fingers through her hair gently.

"I radioed in. Asked for instructions. I thought they'd tell me to leave her. I thought—I hoped—maybe they'd make an exception," She let out a bitter laugh, one that didn't reach her eyes, "They didn't."

She took a shaky breath, "'Clean it up,' they said. That's all. Like she was a mess on the floor."

You felt her whole body tighten.

"I didn't move. I froze. I just stood there with my gun pointed at her. And she... she didn't even cry. She just looked at me. Like she understood," Her voice cracked, "And then I pulled the trigger."

Tears slipped down her cheeks now. You let them fall.

"I killed her. Because they told me to. Because she saw too much. Because I always follow orders," She shook her head, "But I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have—"

"Yelena," you whispered, reaching up to cradle her face.

"I see her every time I close my eyes," she said, her voice breaking. "I see her face. I can't stop thinking—what if I'd hesitated just a second longer? What if I'd missed on purpose? What if there was another way?"

You held her tightly, letting her sob into your shoulder.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," you said gently, brushing your hand over the top of her head. "Anything I can do?"

"Just want to hold you," Yelena looked up, her expression pleading, "Want you to hold me."

The common bedroom door was closed. No one would interrupt.

You nodded and lay back on her cot, pulling her into your side, and wrapping her tightly against you.

"You're going soft," Yelena muttered into your neck, a teary grin tugging at her lips, "You're not that scary girl anymore,"

"And it's all your fault," you replied with a faint smirk, nudging your nose into her hair as you held her closer.

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