#I feel like nat would love celebrating Christmas since she never got to before

[helpimstuckinanotherworlddd]

holiday blackhill!!

[pugh-bug]

First Christmas

Yelena Belova fluff x female reader

Could also be read as x any gendered reader as neutral language was used incidentally

This is just a super short fluffy fic I was thinking about while in my room staring at my Christmas tree thinking about Yelena and Nat. I’ll definitely be writing more Yelena stuff btw, she’s my wife afterall. Merry Christmas for anyone who celebrates🎄if this season/month is difficult for you I hope it passes as quickly and smoothly as possible and if not have an amazing time doing whatever you get up to x

———————————————————————

It was Christmas Eve, the first you’d had since meeting Yelena, and you wanted her to enjoy it fully. Whilst she was out you’d decorated the flat with an inordinate amount of rainbow Christmas lights. In each corner you’d placed tacky light up snowmen and on each table you’d placed various ornaments and trinkets from your personal collection of Christmas crap. As for the tree, that had been tricky, but you’d managed to put something quite nice together with the help of too much tinsel and ribbons.

When your phone flashed that it was 8pm you admired your handiwork, feeling satisfied and hopeful that Yelena would be cheered. There was always that worry she’d climb into bed without saying a word, covered in cuts you’d have to clean while she retreated into her head but when the door opened you knew it was a good night.

“Y/N!”

You struggled to search her face for signs of injury, distracted by her beauty that never failed to dazzle you. She dropped her bag, refusing to take her wide eyes off the decorations you’d laid before her. “Did you rob a toy store for me?”

“No but I would.”

You watched her reactions intently. “Do you like it?” Without hesitation Yelena beamed at you, outstretching her arms for a hug. “I love it, you are so sweet.” Her Russian accent shone through as she spoke in your ear, hugging you tightly.

“I made snowman cookies,” you gestured to the nearby plate as Yelena clapped her hands in approval. “And I’ve got a load of Christmas movies we can binge, if you’re up for it.” As your girlfriend excitedly flipped through the pile of dvds you’d brought out to play you glanced at the presents under the tree.

Yelena had only recently opened up to you about her childhood and how her parents weren’t really her parents and that Christmas wasn’t real for her, just for show. It had broken your heart to hear her so quietly recall opening empty boxes only to pretend to celebrate Easter a moment later for the camera. She deserved real presents, real memories and a real Christmas. You’d bought her a lot, you knew that, probably too much but she deserved it. She was your girl.

Yelena rolled her sore neck in a circle, trying to crack it. When it did she turned to look at you - watched you watching her every movement and smiled knowingly. “Pyjamas?”

“Trying to get me out of my clothes already Y/L/N?”

She was even more beautiful when she smiled, her large eyes lit up. They were so intense and emotive but soft and calming all at once, you felt a surge of love towards her as you watched her change. Neither of you had said it yet but the feeling was there and only growing stronger. As had become ritualistic, you kissed every scar on Yelena’s body before doing the buttons for her. Something about helping a Black Widow assassin with basic tasks made you both feel comforted. Safe.

“Elf or Home Alone first?”

Yelena shrugged and you remembered that of course she’d seen neither.

——————————————————————

You managed to make the cookies last until half 11 at night, then it was time to break out the quality street tin while you half watched Elf. “These are a-ma-zing.” Yelena grinned before scoffing several orange creams as you had the last green triangle. You beamed at her, feeling endlessly lucky that she was yours at all.

“I got you something…”

She can’t help it, her eyes narrow in suspicion. Why would you be giving her something?

“I know it’s not officially Christmas yet but it almost is.” You pulled out the bag from under the tree and passed it to Yelena whose eyes were glazed over. A bag? Just for her? Of…presents? She hesitated, looking at you for permission just waiting for it to all be either a joke or a dream.

“Open them, they’re yours.”

Her heart sang at your words. She opened the first enthusiastically: lipstick and lip liner for the bolder makeup she’d been enjoying recently. “I love this colour!” You grin, watching her open the earrings and heels next. Everything you bought was bold and beautiful, like her.

“If you don’t like them I’ll take them b-“ but before you could finish Yelena’s body hit your own as she pulled you into a forceful hug. You were sure in that moment, as her hair got caught in your earring and her fingers gripped your back, that she’d never held you so tight. “Merry Christmas.” You whispered, still holding her. She hadn’t told you but ever since the two of you had met, Yelena had been half expecting you to find some excuse to leave - that you’d find yourself unable to accept her or see her as a normal girlfriend. Nothing could have been further from the truth. She was everything and more.

“I love you.”

Shit.

You’d said it aloud. Hugging her back, burying your flushed face in her plaited hair you prayed for a do over. A pause button until she turned your head to face hers and kiss you gently. “I love you too.” she beamed. Something damp dripped onto your fingers that cradled Yelena’s face, that was when you realised she was crying. All of your body screamed at you to ‘fix this’ ‘help her’ but Yelena only rubbed your knuckles and kissed your other hand, a warm smile on her lips. “Finally, a good Christmas.”

——————————————————————

Masterlist

Resources 🇵🇸🇸🇩🇨🇩

[themculibrary]

Natasha Romanoff Birthday (December 3rd) Masterlist

A Russian’s Fairytale (ao3) - SophieRomanoff97 clint/natasha G, 2k

Summary: ‘Maybe if she had someone to spend her birthday with, someone who actually, properly, cared about it and her, someone who would make it feel special, maybe then it wouldn’t be such a suckish day. Maybe.’

Not all birthdays are happy, especially when you’ve never had a proper one. It’s Natasha’s birthday and a certain archer decides to make it his mission to make it as okay as it could possibly be.

(Set Pre-Avengers, some good Clintasha goodness for ya’ll)

Birthday (fanfiction.net) - Becca Barton-Romanoff clint/natasha G, 1k

Summary: Natasha's birthday is not a great day, so Clint has figured out how to help her through each one, every year

Birthday Girl (ao3) - ttfan111robstar1 bruce/natasha M, 13k

Summary: It’s Natasha’s Birthday, and everyone is ready to celebrate.

Happy Birthday (ao3) - Madquinn13 kate/yelena

Summary: It's Natasha's first birthday since her death and Yelena isn't sure how to celebrate it.

It Must Be Your Birthday (ao3) - DrRJSB bruce/natasha T, 3k

Summary: When you don't know your exact date of birth, every day could be your birthday.

Filling in some of the gaps that lead to Brutasha/HulkWidow/BruceNat in Avengers: Age of Ultron.

Well, Just You Wait (ao3) - Sally0 G, 2k

Summary: Tony has discovered Nat’s birthdate, which none of the team knew before. He respects her wish not to tell anyone, and decides to have her up to the penthouse for a nice, low-key surprise of dessert and a gift. But of course he had to get the stomach flu on the day of her birthday.

Sam Discovers An Important Fact About Himself (ao3) - orphan_account steve/sam T, 1k

Summary: Steve can't think of anything to get Natasha for her birthday. She suggests he perform "The Star Spangled Man With A Plan" for her. Everyone finds it hilarious. Except Sam.

Teatime at Tiffany's (ao3) - AlphaFlyer clint/natasha T, 2k

Summary: "This is one of the most powerful objects in the universe and I am not letting you use it to buy your girlfriend a box of chocolates or some lingerie, Barton."

Clint forgets Nat's birthday and goes to Dr. Strange for help.

The Birthday Girl (fanfiction.net) - Telemain's Daughter T, 4k

Summary: Barton and Romanoff have been partners for years. But on an unusual mission on Christmas Eve, their partnership-and their friendship-starts to crumble. When everything goes wrong, will they have each others backs? Clintasha/Blackeye/Blackhawk. Rated T for mild language and romance. (This is my version of how Natasha got her arrow necklace and why Clint was not in "Winter Soldier"

The power of lighters and blue eyes and cakes with sprinkles (ao3) - well_well_well maria/natasha N/R, 5k

Summary: Nat's birthdays, created by Maria Hill, featuring the others as and when, but a story mostly of love, and, as the title says, lighters and blue eyes and cakes with sprinkles

you can keep me here in your heart (ao3) - arrowsinmyheart steve/natasha G, 786

Summary: She doesn't really think a lot about this day.

But here he was, standing in front of her – a bottle of vodka in his left hand, and a pizza box on the other. He looked like a puppy just standing there outside her door with his pajama shirt tucked between his pajama pants.

What a dork.

[the-iceni-bitch]

𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓢𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓚𝓲𝓼𝓼

Relationship: lawyer!amazon Natasha Romanoff x petite!curvy fem reader (big red and peach, NLLYL)

Words: ~1.6k

Summary: Christmas with your girlfriend is magical

Warnings: explicit language, soooooo much fluff, w/w, they’re massively in love, mentions of multiple orgasms, established relationship, relationship milestones, lots of kisses, no minors due to the AU

A/N: They are so soft and in love and so am I!! 🥰 Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all of you wonderful babies (and one in particular)

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

You moaned and stretched as you woke up, frowning at the empty other half of the bed until you smelled coffee then smiling to yourself as you rose to your feet.

Nat was in the kitchen when you found her, making you melt a little at the sight of her making you pancakes in nothing except a very festive sweater and panties.

“Good morning and merry Christmas, peach.” She smiled at you and you got butterflies in your stomach, padding to her on bare feet and winding your arms around her so you could bury your face in her chest while she kissed the top of your head. “How did you sleep, baby girl?”

“You mean after you gave me five full body orgasms?” You tilted your head up and gazed at her with a warm smile, keeping your body pressed against hers even as she started plating the pancakes with her free hand. “Slept great, why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Because I gave you five full body orgasms.” She finished putting whipped cream on the pancakes and dolloped a little on the tip of your nose, leaning down and mouthing it off with a quiet purr while you giggled. “Baby needs her rest after that. Now eat your gingerbread pancakes, cutie. Then we’re gonna enjoy all the fresh snow that fell last night.”

It was so surreal seeing your über professional, shark of a lawyer girlfriend acting all soft and domestic, and you would never get sick of it. You hummed when she sat next to you and rested her hand on your thigh after pouring you coffee, gazing at her after every bite and feeling your chest hurt whenever she gave you that loving look. She wouldn’t even let you help her clean up, shushing you and throwing you over her shoulder to take you back to the bedroom so you could get dressed after she gave your ass a few good smacks. You were breathless and giddy by the time you were actually ready to go, even as you rolled your eyes at her insistence that she be the one to wind your scarf around your neck.

The world was so quiet and white and soft and utterly lovely when you stepped outside hand in hand, the snow crunching under your boots and your breath fogging in the air while you walked together. Snow was still falling silently, and the city seemed empty, since everyone was inside celebrating with their families, and it was like you two were the only people in the world.

And Nat. Nat was beautiful. Smiling at you constantly and holding you close with her cheeks and nose red from the cold and snowflakes stuck to her eyelashes. Made you lose your balance a few times because you couldn’t stop staring at her, but she always caught you.

Not that she could stop staring at you either, your muffled laughs and little frustrated huffs you made every time your feet slipped making her feel all kinds of warm. You were just so small and cute and precious and no one had ever made her happier than you did.

“Oh, okay, hold on.” She grabbed your waist when you got distracted and stepped on another patch of ice, pulling you tight and ducking to rub her nose against yours when you squealed before kissing you gently. “Your nose is freezing, peach, and so are your lips. We should get you home before they fall off, you’re shivering.”

“Yeah.” You squeaked when she kissed you again, beaming when the two of you started making your way back to her brownstone. “I wanna open my presents anyway.”

“Spoiled little thing.” Natasha squeezed you affectionately as she helped you make your way back. “I want you to open them too.”

“Yeah? What did you get me?” You pouted when she just shook her head at you. “Just give me a hint!”

“Nope.” She grinned at the petulant huff you let out, dragging you when you dug in your feet a little and chuckling at your bratty attitude. “Don’t be naughty now, I have zero qualms about spanking you on a holiday.”

“Oh no!” You giggled when she shoved you in front of her and pinched you, peeking at her over your shoulder and feeling your face heat up when she growled playfully. “I’d hate that.”

“You’re such a brat.” She swatted you again when you started to go up the stairs in front of her, winking when you looked back at her again. “Coal for you next year.”

“Yeah, we’ll see.” You gasped when she pressed you against the wall and started peeling you out of your cold weather gear, trying not to squirm when she gave you that intense gaze as you bit your lip. “I’m so cute, don’t think you can help but buy me pretty things.”

“Maybe.” She kissed you when you helped her undo her coat, nuzzling your cheek when you slid it down her shoulders as she unwound your scarf. “Watch your hands, peach.”

“Sorry.” You weren’t, but you still took your hands off her ass, pecking her lips one more time and following her into the family room so you could watch her light the fire as you settled in front of the tree. “Now gimme my presents.”

Nat just muttered about how spoiled you were again before sitting behind you, pulling you back against her chest and kissing your hair before handing you a gift from the small pile. There weren’t too many, but they were all thoughtful and sweet and made you beam at her every time you opened one. You didn’t even know where she’d found a first edition of your favorite book, or how she remembered the antique cameo that your grandmother had lost, but you kept falling deeper in love with her every time you opened something new.

She loved everything you got her too, especially the homemade card and the earrings from that tiny little boutique the two of you had found in Brooklyn that she had fallen in love with. Every time she kissed you and told you how perfect the present you had gotten her was, you giggled like a schoolgirl, burying your face in her shoulder and playing with the hem of her sweater while you tried to act like you were deliriously in love with her.

“Sweet girl, a little peach necklace?” Nat kissed you again and smiled against your skin when you squirmed in her lap, gazing at you adoringly and squeezing your waist before leaning back. “I just have a few more for you, close your eyes.”

“What? Nat!” You did as she said when she just pinched your cheek. “But we opened everything, where did you hide more presents?”

“Don’t worry about it.” She helped you to your feet and started leading you down the hall slowly. “You know how sneaky I can be.”

“Yeeeeeah, but…” you snorted when she hushed you, pouting when she made you stop so she could open a door as you tapped your foot impatiently. “I don’t like not knowing what’s going on.”

“Well that’s okay, just open your eyes.”

It took you a second, but the cat tree and the little jungle gym and toys and bowls and then a little fuzzy baby was wobbling towards you and you almost screamed.

“Nat!!! Shut the fucking door, oh my god!” You scooped the little grey kitten with the folded ears and the red ribbon up and damn it, you were crying when you turned back towards Nat. “You got me a kitten?!”

“Not just a kitten, peach.” She was smiling so hard her cheeks hurt while she looked at you, cupping your cheek gently and wiping away the happy tears as she stepped closer to you. “Look at the ribbon.”

“O-okay.” The crying was starting to turn ugly but you didn’t care, kissing the baby on his little head and pulling on the ribbon until it came loose. “It’s a key.”

“Yeah, it’s your key.” She kissed you and cooed when you sobbed, wrapping you in her arms and continuing to give you that look that made you melt. “And I didn’t want to try to lead you upstairs with your eyes closed, but Yelena and Kate moved in a bunch of your clothes while we were on our walk, and Sam and Buck and Clint are all set to move in your furniture whenever you want…”

You grabbed the back of her neck and kissed her hungrily, moaning when you felt her grin against your lips and standing on your tiptoes so you could really drink her in. She held you until you finally pulled back to breathe, making you want to start blubbering when you saw her own eyes brimming with tears of happiness.

“I’m going to assume that means ‘yes’?” Nat pecked the tip of your nose while you nodded vehemently, her hands squeezing your hips while she kept smiling warmly at you. “Good, because I don’t think this little guy would enjoy split custody too much. You know what you want to name him?”

“Please, I would obviously end up with sole custody of the baby.” You scrunched up your face when she kept kissing your cheeks, cradling the kitten and leaning on her shoulder. “I think I’ll name him Gus.”

[satans-left-asscheeky]

Fo4 Romanced Companions react to Sole getting them a Christmas gift

Maccready

"Sole I- I don't know what to say..."

Maccready usually spends the months leading up to December saving money and selling less useful things so he can afford to spoil Duncan, and in the past Lucy, so he's used to not getting anything and he's okay with that because the look on his kiddos face is enough. So when sole handed him a present it really did warm his heart because he knows the effort he goes through to get his loved ones gifts and the idea of someone doing that for him is enough to make tears swell in the corners of his eyes. The man's a total sentimental sap so whatever it is sole got him he'll cherish and keep for the rest of his days

Hancock

"Well what have we got here... I still don't know what I did to deserve you sunshine"

He'd be happy just to spend Christmas with them.. He'd spent the upcoming months so focused on trying to pick out the perfect gift for them he hadn't even really considered the fact that they'd probably end up getting one for him. Safe to say the gesture didn't go unnoticed

Cait

"Look I ain't good at this mushy shit, but I hope you know it means a lot to me"

She'd never had a single Christmas growing up so the present would mean more to her than sole would ever know. Sole never failed to amze her with how genuinely kind they were

Danse

"I appreciate the gift soldier. No ones gone out of their way to get me something in a vary long time... thank you"

His first memories (whether their his or not the first memories he has) were of him collecting junk to sell just to get by. The only person who ever cared enough about him to buy him a gift in his whole life was Cutler so when sole did it he was elated. He hadn't even realized how much the little gesture had meant until later when he ended up crying while looking at the gift.

Curie

"Oh this is just perfect!!! How did you know just what to get me?"

Curie had had her eye on the medical supplies for months with these new tools she could really make a difference at the local settlements! It's not just a gift for her, to a gift to everyone and that's what made it so special

Deacon

"No way! You my friend are one of a kind. Gotta be honest didnt see exchanging christmas gifts on the agenda way back when I vouched for you, but hey I'm all for it.... also I kinda didn't get you anything... Oops?"

He was used to pretending Christmas was just another day since Barbara, so he hadn't even thought of the possibility of sole getting him a gift, and obviously hadn't gotten them one which made him feel a bit bad. He would end up going and grabing them something he thought they might like later though. Hey better late the never?

Piper

"Oh my goodness Blue, you didn't!"

Her dad used to always celebrate Christmas with her and nat, but since he'd passed it had become just another day of working to survive.... that is until sole came around and got presents not just for her, but for her little sister as well. Piece by piece they filled gaps Piper didn't even know were missing and to say she was grateful was an understatement

Nick

"Wow... this brings me back. Haven't had a proper Christmas since before the bombs..."

The small pocket watch would bring him back to simpler times, and if he could nick would've probably shed a few tears when he opened the present. He'd keep it in his coat pocket as a reminder of sole.

Preston

"General you really are something else you know that? They sure don't make em like they used to"

This man neglects himself in favor of focusing on others so when sole got him a gift it truly did mean the world to him.

X6-88

"I appreciate the gesture ma'am/sir"

Truth be told he doesn't get the tradition, but it does make him feel uncharacteristicly happy that sole had thought of him

[writing-for-marvel]

Congratulations Em! You deserve it so much, I adore your writing <3 can I request number 3 and 19 from the dialogue prompts with Natasha please?!

Thank you Liv 💕 I adore your writing too! I hope you like the drabble sweetie

For my 500 follower + Holiday celebration

Natasha Romanoff + “Um, I got you something.” + “Your hands are freezing.”

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

To Keep Your Hands Warm

“What on Earth do you get the billionaire who already has everything, and can afford literally anything, for Christmas?” You asked your girlfriend as you strolled through the mall together, looking at all the shop fronts that were decorated for the holiday season.

“I have no idea.” Natasha remarked, taking a particular interest in a sharpening steel in the window of a homewares shop, which you were desperately trying to steer her away from as there was one currently wrapped under your tree for her.

“Thanks, that’s super helpful.” Your voice full of sarcasm, now stopping outside a quaint old bookstore which you knew had the best collection of first edition classics in the city.

Natasha historically wasn’t the biggest fan of the holiday’s, everyone’s too cheerful, it’s just another day on the calendar, but you realised this was because it reminded her of all the holidays she missed out on with a family she could call her own. Two years ago, she never would have agreed to a shopping trip like this. Now that she had a family, you, she cherished the holidays, and the two of you making memories together.

“I’m sorry you got stuck with Tony for secret Santa, baby. It doesn’t help that there’s a $20 limit either.” She shifted both the bags she was currently holding into one hand, using her now free one to hold yours. “Damn, your hands are freezing!”

“You know my hands are always cold, I’m not quite sure why you're so surprised.” You chuckled at her strange behaviour, but didn’t think any more of it. “Can we go in here please? I might be able to finally find that book for mom I’ve been searching for since July!”

“I’ll meet you in there, I just need to make one stop first.” Nat declared, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek, taking off before you had a chance to oppose.

You roamed the bookstore, taking your time in each aisle, examining the spines of both new and old novels, completely losing track of time.

“Hey, find anything you like?” Nat eventually pulled you out of your reverie, carrying an extra shopping bag which she didn’t have before disappearing.

“I mean it’s a bookstore, I’d buy everything in here if I had Tony’s kind of money. Whatcha got there?” You asked innocently, eyes only flickering down to the bag for a second as you continued your search for a particular book for your mom.

“Um, I got you something.” She said uncharacteristically bashfully, holding out the new bag with a shy smile.

“Nat, Christmas is in like two weeks, don’t you think I should wait until then to open it?” You queried with a small laugh, unsure why she was suddenly so eager to exchange gifts - her past self would wince at how in the Christmas spirit she had become.

“It’s a practical gift and you’ll be able to use them in the week leading up to Christmas.” She insisted, pushing the bag closer to you, essentially demanding you open the gift this second.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Opening the bag, unfurling the tissue paper inside, you let out a small gasp at the cutest pair of lush, wool fingerless gloves inside.

“Tasha, they’re so cute. And very practical - thank you, I love them.” You couldn’t stop the wide smile which spread over your lips as you kissed her.

“As you said before, your hands are always cold. This way, you’ll be able to stay warm, but I’ll still be able to feel your fingers when we hold hands.” Your heart fluttered at the cheerful grin and slight blush that crept over her cheeks. “Now, put them on so I can hold your hand without feeling like I’m holding an icicle!”

Permanent taglist: @imagining-harrypotter @tripletstephaniescp @hoeforthefictional @moonshooter @steverogerswifesblog @yliumy @p0tterhead934 @asgardwinter @demonpoxballad @nagygreta @libbymouse @squished-insect @mayasreadingnook @thecraziestcrayon

Natasha Romanoff taglist: @marvel-mcu-3000 @claudiaatje @melancholybaby @rqmanoff @erynnnn @didujustcallmedumb @buckysmetalarmholder @princesspogue @striving4averagegirl

[cheelseaaaa]

Fallen Memory

Fallen Memory

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader; Yelena Belova x Reader (Platonic)

Summary: Since Nat's passing, it was hard for you to move on. And it's Christmas, hopefully, Yelena can do something to help you

Warnings: angst; dead character (if that’s a warning)

Word count: 634

A/N: I got the Idea from someone here in tumblr. I forgot their name but it's their idea.

A/N: I was supposed to post this tomorrow but, there's a high chance that I will have a lot of works to do. English is not my first language.

Masterlist

⊱ ──────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ──────── ⊰

You miss her, there is no doubt. She's your world, she's your life, and she’s the only person who understands and truly loved you, but that only person is now gone. She will never come back.

You reminisced the times when you both visualize your futures, marrying each other and living on the outskirts, away from the loud and busy city. Having kids and a cat named Liho. But it will only remain a dream. She sacrificed herself, to save and bring back half of the universe.

It’s almost Christmas and you'll be celebrating it with her sister, Yelena. She said that her sister will haunt her if she doesn't celebrate it with you.

You are sitting lazily in front of the Television while playing with the remote, then Yelena marched from her room to where you were sitting. “Let's watch Rogers the Musical.” You raise your brow and shake your head. “No” you lightly kick her side cause she's blocking the view. She won't give up as she crosses her arms on her chest. “C'mon. It would be good.”

“But I don't want to.” you roll to your side causing you to fall from the sofa. “It would be fun. Natasha will be happy, seeing her sister and her lover spending time together.” She reasoned out before sitting on the floor beside you. You give her a quick glance before looking back at the Television. No matter how hard she tries, you still refuse. You will not go on some stupid theatrical act about the Avengers, because you knew what happened there.

—————

You are sitting Meters away from the stage. Yes, Yelena made you watch the Rogers the Musical with her. She's too persistent in bringing you with her. You are so bored that you took out your phone and were about to use it but Yelena is fast enough to take your phone away from you. You look at her annoyed, she looks at you and shakes her head. You exhaled heavily and sank in your sit.

Now's the part where ‘Natasha’ is dancing. Even if she's not your Natasha, it still gives you the memories. Memories that you just wanna bury. Her red hair swaying whenever she walks and fight. And how her emerald eyes shine when being hit by the light. Your cheeks are now tainted with tears. You abruptly stand up and walk away, Yelena saw you in her peripheral vision, so she stood up and follow you.

She catches up to you and grabs your wrist making you turn around and look at her. “What is wrong with you?” she asked looking directly at your swollen eyes. You look at her for a good second before diverting your attention to something else.

“Why are you acting like that?” she releases your hand. You sniff and wipe away your tears. “Because...” You can't form a word. As if you forgot how to speak that time. You lower your head not wanting her to see you crying.

“You are being unreasonable." Those words made you look at her.

You scoff, "Me? Being unreasonable? Is it a sin that I miss her? Is it wrong that I just want to hug her? Is it a mistake that I just want her? Because I wanted to feel her again. She's my world, Yelena. She's the light in my darkest night. She's my everything!” you miss her. There's no explanation for that. You lean against the wall and slide down, you sit down crying, not giving any care if Yelena's watching you or someone passes. Nothing seems to be of value anymore. Yelena looks at you with pity and sits beside you. she put her head on your shoulder while you were silent.

“I miss her so much”

“I miss her too.”

⊱ ──────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ──────── ⊰

A/N: Feedback is very much appreciated. I am posting every Monday and Thursday around 3am EST.

[mrslilyrogers]

Betrayal Part 2

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: (AU) Set in New York. You and Bucky have been married for 5 years. He’s the love of your life and you are his. At least, you thought you were until he started slipping away from you, coming home late and smelling of another woman’s perfume? You are in denial. Are you just losing your mind or are you really losing him?

Author’s Notes: Thank you to those who read Part 1! Please let me know if you wanna be tagged in this series! Bucky feels a little more guilty here :/ Hope you all enjoy! Let me know what you think :) **my work is only posted here or my ao3, mrslilyrogers 

Warnings: ANGST, CHEATING

Part 1

Hoots of laughter sounded from the living room as Y/N entered the apartment. Her heart sang at the thought of Bucky spending time with his daughter, maybe their marriage was salvageable, maybe she was overreacting and Bucky has really just been busy lately, maybe he realized he’s been ignoring---  her thoughts ended abruptly when she saw Steve and Lizzie on the couch, popcorn in between them, and watching Lizzie’s favorite movie, clearly Steve’s attempt at trying to cheer her up from her father being too busy to pick her up from school. Never mind that both Bucky and Steve had the same jobs -both managing directors for the world’s largest investment banking company, Shield- which meant that if Steve could afford to pick Lizzie up, then Bucky sure as hell could too. 

“Y/N!” Steve said rising from his seat.

“Mommy!” Lizzie rushed to greet her mom with the biggest hug she could muster and Y/N immediately scooped her up, hugging her back,

“Hey, you!”

Steve stood behind them and waited until the little monkey suddenly shifted from her mother, opened her arms and clung to him instead. He took her from Y/N with one arm as he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.

“You spoil her too much, Rogers” Y/N said as she rolled her eyes, ignoring the barely concealed concerned look on his face.

“And how are you too, Y/N? How’s your meeting with Stark?” Steve asked teasingly, trying to lighten her mood.

“Oh you know,” She pretended to hedge around her answer before she excitedly exclaimed, “I got it!”

Steve’s smile suddenly lit up like a christmas tree, grinning from ear to ear as he enveloped her into a bear hug with Lizzie still in his arm. When he let go, he saw the flash of sadness cross her eyes before she beamed up at him again and recounted her meeting with the Tony Stark. How come Steve remembered her big meeting and Bucky couldn’t? The question nagged at the back of her mind as she chose to ignore it, focusing on her win for the day.

“Bucky couldn’t leave work, he has a meeting. But he said he’ll see you at dinner,” Steve said apologetically bringing her daughter down as she scrambled back to her movie.

“Right, and he couldn’t have texted that huh,” As soon as the words left  her lips, she felt bad. It wasn’t Steve’s fault. The guy was practically an angel, leaving work early to pick her daughter up, proving that even though he and Bucky were not blood related, they were brothers in every sense of the word.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring you into this, Thanks for bringing Lizzie home,” she apologized quickly.

“Hey, Y/N, it’s fine. Are you guys alright?”

“Steve, will you be honest with me?” Y/N wrung her hands as she guided Steve to the staircase, bringing them away from her daughter.

“Do you know what’s going on with Bucky?” She asked, finally letting it out in the open. Steve is Bucky’s best friend since childhood and it would be stupid of her to ask her husband’s best friend if it were any other guy, but it was Steve, and he was the noblest person she knew. Loyalty to Bucky or no, he would tell her the truth.

“What do you mean? I haven’t really seen him lately, I’ve been in California for the past week…”

That’s when she stopped listening, California in the past week? Bucky couldn’t even have formed a better lie for last night. Did he really think she wouldn’t find out? Was that how little he thought of her, he didn’t even try his best not to be caught. A dry laugh escaped her lips as she shook her head. Unbelievable.

“Hey, Y/N, are you okay?” Steve asked, bringing her back to reality.

“Oh yeah just fine, Steve, sorry, do you wanna stay for dinner? I’m gonna start cooking,”

Steve shifted his weight between both feet, clearly uncomfortable by her change in mood.

“Uh, I don’t know, it’s alright--”

“Stay for dinner,” Y/N said since surely she’d be making too much food for just two people again.

“Lizzie would sure love to have her favorite uncle to annoy the whole time,” she suggested teasingly to which he exhaled in relief, glad that the tension left and they were back on safer topics.

“Well if you put it that way, then of course, who says no to your cooking anyway?” He replied jokingly while she laughed bitterly and headed to the kitchen with Steve jogging back to the sofa to finish the movie. Well, my husband apparently.

_______________________________________________________________________

Steve, Lizzie and Y/N were all huddled at the dining table, each enjoying Y/N’s famous molten lava cake as Steve regaled Lizzie of his and Bucky’s childhood exploits, telling her how he used to be picked on a lot and how Bucky was always the one who saved him. One in particular involved a pretty girl, Steve losing his inhaler, and Bucky walking home missing a shoe had Lizzie in a fit of giggles.

“But Uncle Steve, you’re the best!” Lizzie explained with chocolate all over her mouth, laughing and shaking her head as if not believing his tale.

Bucky heard the shouts and laughter from the kitchen, his daughter practically worshipping her Uncle Steve as he entered the apartment. His brows immediately shot up, Steve stayed? He didn’t know what to expect when he decided to come home earlier than usual and told Celeste he couldn’t stay the night. If he were honest, shouts and laughter were the last thing on his mind. He had expected them to wait up on him and his daughter running up to greet him as he went through the door as she usually did before. Before he met Celeste, before he got bored of his family. God, he was such an ass. He told himself it would only be one night then one night turned into another and another and next thing he knew, he was more excited to see her than to see his wife.

He entered the kitchen with flowers in his hand, intending to make it up to Y/N but the sight that greeted him cut him short. There they were looking like a family, Steve at the head of the table, his seat, with his wife and daughter on either side of him, enjoying their desert while Lizzie stood on her chair, arms extended, regaling them of her dance class at school. Y/N immediately shot her hand out to Lizzie’s arm, sitting her back down as Steve laughed at them.

“Lizzie, you’re going to fall,” She tried to reprimand seriously but couldn’t hold in her laugh. He hadn’t seen her laugh like that in a long while.

“Steve, see? I told you we shouldn’t have given her desert,” she huffed out.

“Well, you can’t invite me for dinner and not feed me one of your delicious cakes, besides, there’s a cause for celebration!” It was impossible not to get infected by Steve’s bright smile, and she immediately found herself smiling in return until they heard someone clear his throat.

“Daddy!” Lizzie exclaimed as she jumped from her seat, running to give her dad a hug.

“Bucky? You’re home?” Y/N said dumbfoundedly.

“How are you, Princess?” Bucky ignored Y/N’s shocked expression as he picked his daughter up, and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Uncle Steve is here!”

“Hey Buck,” Steve greeted from his seat as he scooped out the last bits of his cake before he stood up.

“I should probably get going, Y/N thanks so much for dinner, haven’t had a good home cooked meal for a while and your cooking is always the best,” he said with a genuine smile but Y/N saw right through it.

“You want to bring home the leftovers, don’t you?”

“Yes, definitely!” Steve said, chuckling, as Y/N went to kitchen, presumably to grab containers for Steve, without acknowledging Bucky.

“Hey man, how was the office?” Steve asked a little too suspiciously. He always knew when something was up with Bucky and now he looked at him assessingly as if he found something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

“Just had to finish the report I told you about,”

“Uncle Steve, why are you leaving so early?” Lizzie whined from her position on her father’s arm. Her head resting on his chest as her arms wrapped around him.

“It’s almost your bedtime, little lady,” He booped her nose as he replied while she giggled and buried her head in her father’s shoulder.

“Lizzie, you’re spreading chocolate over daddy’s shirt,” Bucky watched as his daughter shifted her face around his shoulder, trying find a comfortable position as her eyelids grew heavy. It brought a smile to his face, his daughter was beyond adorable.

“What chocolate?���

“The one on your face,”

“Do not have chocolate on my face,” She argued sleepily.

“Sweetie, you do it’s all over,”

“Do not,”

“Do too!”

“Do not!” This time she huffed angrily with her eyes closed, it was the cutest thing in the world to Bucky which made both him and Steve chuckle.

“Here you go Steve,” Y/N came back, handing him the bags of leftover.

“Aww, Y/N, you’re an angel,” Steve tried to inconspicuously look for something in the bags but failed in his friend’s eyes. It still bothered Y/N how, for a guy who commands so much attention from any room he walks in, with his golden brown hair, baby blue eyes and perfect skin, he still tries to be subtle. There was nothing subtle about his looks and the way he moves gives the impression that he had no idea the effect he has on others, or simply that he didn’t care. The girls, Nat, Wanda and Y/N always teased him about it, especially in college, when he had been oblivious with the way women stared at him left and right. To them, he was simply Steve Rogers but other people looked up to him, with his commanding voice and gentle advice. He was the best friend any girl could ever ask for and Y/N was thankful for him especially tonight when she didn’t know if she should celebrate for her business’ success or cry for Bucky.

“Yes, there’s a lava cake in there too. Just pop that in the oven before you eat it,” Y/N had made sure to make extra for him, knowing it was his favorite.

“Oh Bucky, your wife’s the best!” Steve replied, giving him a clap to the shoulder. If only he’d notice, Y/N thought bitterly to herself before Steve gave her a side hug and kissed her cheek.

“Bye Y/N, thanks for the food again! See you tomorrow, Bucky,”

“Bye, man,”

“Bye, Uncle Steve,” Lizzie mumbled, as she waved blindly around, clearly, fighting her sleep to say bye to her favorite uncle.

“Bye sweetheart,” Steve said as he gently patted her head and left.

As soon as the door closed and they were left alone, the awkwardness settled in. Bucky looked to her, flowers still in one hand, with Lizzie sleeping on his arm.

“How was your day?” Bucky asked, breaking the silence.

“I got it, Tony loved the red velvet,”

“Wow! First name basis now huh, I knew you’d get it, I got these for you,” He gave her a genuine smile as he handed her the tulips, her favorite. She should’ve loved it, but she hated it now, it was a reminder of how awkward they had become. Back then, whenever he came home from work with her tulips, she would’ve jumped on him and gave him a kiss, telling him she missed him and how her day went without his prompting. He would’ve said he missed her too and told her about work but now, here they were, standing feet apart from each other, not knowing what to say. She didn’t have it in her to act like the wife she was. How could she hug him knowing where he’d been?

“Thank you. Are you hungry? I left some food on the table,”

Bucky clenched his jaw, knowing he was late, Celeste had unexpectedly shown up at his office even though she knew it was off-limits and he had to get rid of her. The whole day he’d been looking forward to spend time with his family and even ordered Y/N’s flowers in the morning for tonight but lately, Celeste had gotten clingy and needy, expecting more than he could give her when she knew from the start, their relationship was only ever going to be a purely physical one.

“Yes, I thought I said I’d go home for dinner,” he replied grudgingly.

“Uhm, no Steve told me you’d go home for dinner. Why couldn’t you have given me a call anyway? Or even a text?” Y/N felt her hackles rise, he didn’t have the right to be annoyed right now.

“Does it matter? She got picked up, she’s here, and it looks like you and Steve started without me anyway,”

“Bucky, you came home at 8:30, you do know your daughter is just 4,” She explained exasperatedly, pointing at the sleeping Lizzie on his arm to prove her point.

He let out a defeated sigh, “I got caught up at work, I’ll tuck her in,”

“Uh huh,” She watched as he walked up the stairs of their two-floor apartment and her heart broke again at that stupid lie he kept telling her and that she kept accepting.

When Bucky went back down, she just finished loading the dishwasher and washing the pots and pans.

“Would you just add your plates when you’re done and start it? I’m gonna head up,”

“Of course,” Bucky replied as he watched her walk up the stairs to their room, thinking, where the hell had they gone wrong. He missed her, he really did. The old Y/N would’ve fought and argued with him as soon as he finished tucking Lizzie in and he would’ve relented, accepted his fault and apologized, then she would’ve accompanied him for dinner and told him excitedly how her meeting went. He would’ve told her just how proud he is of her. He got lost in his thoughts as he stared down at his food. Damn, she even made Steve’s favorite pot roast. He knew she had been trying to fix things for a while, but now, she seemed distant and cold like she was finally giving up on him and it was his fault, he knew that too. He just didn’t know what to do, how to fix things. So as usual, he did what he did best, took a swig of his beer, and buried himself in denial.

Part 3

[sylvie-writes]

Ugly Christmas Sweaters

pairing: steve rogers x reader. avengers x reader (platonic) 

request: Could you imagine the avengers having an ugly Christmas sweater contest? Because holy cow I need that in my life.

warnings: a few curse words and that’s about it.

word count: 1459

author’s note: pardon any mistakes! I’m also trying to complete my Christmas/winter requests first since December has already started. 

PART OF MY CHRISTMAS CELEBRATION (check the tag for the masterlist)

(gif below is not mine, nor do i take credit for it

The Morning Of December 24th

“Natasha, for the love of all that is good, why are we out at 10 am shopping? On Christmas Eve might I add!”

Tiny snowflakes danced across the sky, some making home in your hair and on the planes of your face. Cold wind gushed towards you, making your skin feel as delicate and fragile as porcelain. Having lived in New York for a few years, one would have assumed that you knew how to handle the harsh weather by now, but apparently not. Even though you were wrapped in a very warming trench coat, your neck encased in a fur collar, you wrapped yourself into Natasha’s side for even more warmth. 

The woman squeezed your arm that was wrapped around her own and kept walking all while ignoring your pleas to stop at the coffee house that looked oh-so inviting.

“Oh hush. You act like you are going to turn into Jack Frost!” 

She chided you for a minute more and then pulled your body into a clothing store that seemed a bit too up-class for your liking. 

“As for your second question, this is the answer. Tony is hosting an ugly Christmas sweater party tonight!”

Natasha unlatched from your arm and went into the center of the store. A sea of red and green blinded you and your friend was now practically swimming through the hundreds of racks all filled with ugly Christmas sweaters. 

“Seriously, Nat! I could have just ordered one on Amazon or something.”

You frowned and decided to jump into the unknown and search for your friend who was seemingly lost at the moment. Standing on tippy toes, you tried to peer over and find her. It was all in vain until you saw a head of red hair excitedly pop up, almost like a groundhog exiting from its home. Natasha smiled widely at you with two ugly Christmas sweaters in hand. As you walked closer to her, you found that the sweaters in question weren’t actually separated yet they were actually one large conjoined sweater, presumably for two people. 

“No,” before she could even speak, you had cut her off. 

“C’mon (y/n)! Even you were thinking about it. I didn't even have to say anything to influence you.” 

You shook your head and attempted to walk away when she grabbed your hand. 

“Call him.”

Natasha stared into your eyes and you did the same, almost squinting back at her now. 

With the slowest movements of your lips, you replied, “N-O, Natasha!” 

Just as you thought this argument had been put to rest, Natasha sneakily snatched your cell phone from your back pocket and immediately FaceTimed your boyfriend, Steve.

“WHAT?!” At this point you were grabbing for the phone and waiting for Steve to ultimately pick up at any given moment.

“HOW DO YOU EVEN KNOW MY PASSWORD?” Natasha kept waving around your phone in the air as it was nothing, some bystanders even shamelessly watching at this point. 

“I’m a spy, sweetheart. It’s simple. Also, your first mistake was to make your password your birthday.”

She pursed her lips and looked at you with a knowing look and you grumbled. Suddenly, the sound of the call being picked sounded and your blood froze. If it wasn’t already frozen from the frigid weather that is.

“Hey dol—Nat?”

“Hiya Cap! Your girlfriend is being a pain in my ass and we need you to settle this argument.”

You piped up and scurried over to get in the view of the camera.

“There is no argument! It’s a stupid sweater that’s all.”

Natasha looked at you once more and you did the same, this time snatching the phone from her. 

“Well I guess you two don’t need me then?”

You could see Steve was visibly confused and clearly in the middle of something as Bucky and Sam were in the background attempting to hang some garland. 

As you were about to tell Steve goodbye, you heard him suddenly chuckle. Confused, your eyes scanned the screen and that is where you spotted Natasha in the background of your own camera feed, jumping up and down while pointing to the sweater. 

“Honey, why is Nat jumping around behind you. Did she have some caffeine or something? I’ve never seen her this hyper before.”

You started laughing as Steve didn’t know Natasha exactly like you did. She was your best friend and the two of you got on each other’s nerves, but never seriously of course. Natasha was a different person with you and quite frankly it was a lot more fun than her usual persona with the team. 

“No Stevie, she stole my phone to try and get you to wear this sweater with me, but I know there’s no way you’d ever wear it.” Towards the end of your statement you were winking, and very noticeably at this point, hoping he would play along. 

But alas, he didn’t catch on.

“Huh? You know me, angel. I’ll do anything for you!”

He was so sweet and innocent that it was hard to stay mad at him. At this point, Nat had stopped jumping and was now at your side, a proud smirk on her face. On the screen, Bucky had joined and Sam partially paid some attention to the conversation as he was now working with Wanda and her powers on the garland. 

“Oh hey, Tasha! You gotta get us one of those, babe! Can’t let Rogers and (y/l/n) beat us this year, ya know?”

Natasha nodded vigorously and walked away to go and find said sweater. You just watched the two boys on the phone playfully nudge each other and drop a few “insults.” 

“I’m going to leave you two to whatever that is. Good luck Sam, you too Wanda!”

The young woman looked towards the camera and you could hear her irritated grumble all the way from across the room. 

“Should’ve gone with you guys!”

—

The Night of December 24th

You and Steve are standing shoulder to shoulder. Literally. 

Minus the white camisole you are wearing beneath this thing, all you feel is Steve’s warm body and skin touching yours. 

The two of you, after some time, finally managed to get the damn thing on. 

“(y/n)! Step to the side and then let me slip my arm through. 

Growing you did as he asked, when you immediately jumped back at Steve crushing your foot. The simple action throwing you both back. 

“Steve, you were stepping on me!”

and then your favorite part of the whole fiasco, “Steven Rogers get your arm off of my waist.” 

You turned and gave the man a side eye to which he shrugged with his own wide eyes. “What! I’m not doing anything and even if I was—”

Steve noticed your look, one that you don’t mess around with. “Care to finish that sentence, Cap?”

He made a motion as if he was zipping his lips and the two of you found it difficult to walk out of the door. 

At the party, you eyed the room for the team. They were a mere few feet away, but you and Steve were already struggling to walk as it is. 

Tony and Pepper were wearing some lighted tinsel sweaters while Bucky and Nat wore a conjoined reindeer sweater. Sam was sporting a literal Christmas tree sweater while Wanda wore a fruit cake themed ugly Christmas sweater. 

Soon Bruce and Thor joined you all. Bruce had an avengers themed ugly sweater on, making you giggle a bit while Thor was just wearing a casual sweater. 

“What is this nonsense that you are all wearing?”

Thor motioned to everyone’s different and most of all, ugly, sweaters, then prompting Bruce to explain the whole thing to him.

Eventually the festivities came to an end and you and Steve by now, had become experts at wearing this giant nap sack of a sweater. 

Rhodey, who decided not to participate, instead became the judge of the contest. By now, everyone was tired and blissed out from the drinks and such. There was silence as you all sat around on the couch and chairs, but it was comfortable and enjoyable, not deafening. The team was your family and there was no other way you’d have it. 

Sleepy, you leaned onto Steve who was still sitting beside you of course, because it’s not like he can run off. 

He smiled when you finally gave in and placed a kiss on your head. The whole team saw you and Steve all snuggled up and napping away. From that, it was decided that you both had won the ugly sweater competition. Not because of your sweaters, but because of your PDA. 

taglist: @memissbee @tricereads @buckybarnesthehotshot @bval-1 @tonystankschild @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @turtoix @kelbabyblue @jakiki94 @aubreeskailynn @calirindo @lady-elena-adeline​ @siriuslyslyslytherin 

[peachyteabuck]

study buddy, part v

series summary: after crushing on you since freshman orientation, Natasha finally gets the guts to ask you help you pass her postmodern lit midterm, to which you agree.

chapter summary: one restaurant date, two confessions, and three grades that will make or break natasha’s degree

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

words: 4,881

trigger warnings: overstimulation, use of a safe word, teeth rotting fluff, strap on sex, ball gags, explicit conversations about whorephobia, orgasm control, angst if you squint

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

part one, part two, part three, part four

The warmth of the sun filtered through blinds is what woke you, wrapped tight in Natasha’s arms. The sex-stained blankets were as messy as can be, some of them hugged your intertwined bodies like a tightly wrapped burrito while others were nearly falling off the bed.

It was messy, beautifully and wonderfully so. If you felt the need to move (which, of course you didn’t because who in their right mind would try to disentangle themselves from such a lovely human person) you doubt you could’ve; Natasha held you with arms too strong and heart beat too soft. You wouldn’t dare disturb her if the house was on fire; then again, if the world was burning down around you – you’d rather die in her arms than reach for uncertain safety. It’s there that you fell back into sleep, tucked under her chin and running your fingers through her hair.

Eventually the growling of your stomachs woke the both of you up, each respective organ desperate for nourishment – and the two hard-boiled eggs, sour gummy worms, gluten-free bread, and half a container of mustard wasn’t gonna cut it. The waning sun was an ominous sign of how long you’d truly gone without food, and you soon didn’t feel all that bad about poking your poor g-

Poking poor Natasha awake.

You didn’t feel all that bad poking Natasha awake as your insides beg for sustenance and your head feels light and holy shit, if you didn’t eat right then you were going to start taking bites out of her – and, for the first time, not in a fun and/or sexy way.

“Hey,” you pressed your forefinger to her nose. “Nat.” You poked the end of each eyebrow, then at various locations of her forehead. “Natasha!” Still, she remained asleep, and buried herself further into the blankets as some unconscious act of survival. “Nat.” You poked her right cheek. “Naat.” You poked her left cheek. “Naaat.” You poked each cheek with each hand at its softest part, pushing until you felt her teeth.  “Nat wake uuup.”

She just grunted and pushed you away before she nuzzled back into the covers. “Go away. I want to die here. Let me become a body without organs.”

She paused.

“Or is it organs without bodies?”

You sighed but make no move to displace her. “One, Natasha, we have the midterm coming out soon. If you do not know the original work done by two far left authors from the sarcastic critique by another far left author, I’m breaking up with you. Two, that’s not what that means and you making a vague reference to some postmodern concept does not mean I am going to stop being annoying. Three, would you like to come get dinner with me?”

Natasha shot up, flame-red hair messy and shirt disheveled – it made her look like the top of of a thicket of trees during a forest fire. Along the side of her face, you could see indentations from where her skin was pressed to the pillowcase. “Food?”

You nodded, pushing the strands from her eyes. “Yes, darling, food.”

She wiped at her face and pushed the covers from her legs, eyes half-closed. “Food.”

You picked some of the crust from the corner of her eyes. She blinked indignantly at you but made no move to stop you. “Do you care where we go?”

Natasha shook her head left-to-right silently, then moved to wipe her face once more.

“Okay. There is a very good Chinese place that I want to show you. Is that okay with you?”

Natasha nodded and made a mmhmm noise.

“Cool.”

You kissed the tip of her nose before you got up and scrounged together a passable outfit that would cover the bruises that still littered your body and shield you from the cold. After a few moments, Natasha opened her eyes wide enough to see a few feet in front of her and did the same.

There was s a wonderful silence that filled the air, the comfortable kind. Like the day of that quiz, it’s a wonderful kind of cozy – soothing and sweet.

You could get used to this…

It was a short walk to the restaurant, one you were all-too familiar with due to your many, many nights there. It was the first place you ate at on campus (that wasn’t one of the mind-numbingly mediocre cafeterias) the day you moved in and it had become some pseudo-home, the place always warm and waitstaff always nice (and always willing to let you eat as much as you pay for and abuse their free WiFi).

The menu hadn’t changed much (by “much,” you mean they’ve fixed two of the five typos) since you first started going there, so you should have already known what you want. Still, you opened the folded, laminated paper and read each item with genuine interest, just as Natasha did.

You looked up at her once and awhile just to see her again. Every time you tried to keep her out of your line or sight for more than a few seconds you’d almost burst at the seams, like a sunburst than could only be quelled by looking at her.

“What year are you?” Natasha asked, which broke your unbelievably tender train of thought.

Your brain, which was still very fried, did not compute. “What?”

She reached over to point to the Chinese zodiac calendar on your menu with one of many of her fingers that was inside you last night. “What year are you?”

You mumbled something and shrugged, fake-intense-reading as your neurons attempted to rebuild your capacity for speech. Luckily, Natasha seemed determined to continue the conversation.

“I’m the year of the dog,” she said, nonchalant, as if you were not losing your goddamn mind on the other side of the table. Your brain was fried, your mouth was gaping like a fish out of water, and were your hands shaking? What the fuck were you supposed to say? How should you respond?

Think, you fool! Think!

“There’s a feminist critical theorist who fucks her dog,” you blurted.

Natasha just smiled – god her smile was so big and wide and beautiful - and laughed. “Part of me thinks you’re lying, but part of me worries you’re telling the truth.”

You laughed then, too, smiling big as she did. It set the tone for the rest of the night, mood light and happy as the tired, probably-high waitress took your order and then brought you the food a suspiciously-short amount of time later. It was good, very good.

“And my mom turns to me and she goes,” you wrinkled your noise in an effort to properly invoke your mother’s nasally tone. “This family does not get Fs or Ds or Cs. You better fix this or else.”

Natasha almost choked on her soft drink at your impression. “You were supposed to make an omelet for a foods and nutrition class, what did she want you to do!?”

You took another bite of orange chicken before you rolled your eyes and shrugged. “I have no idea what that woman wants from me now, let alone when I was fuckin’ fourteen.”

You were both laughing as you took food from each other’s plates and swapped small stories. Natasha told you about her own coding mishaps (apparently it was easy to hack into news websites and create fake stories involving certain celebrities and a certain large bird and many, if not too many, phallic objects), you told her about the time you stress-cried in the bathroom so much the janitor kept tissues in a secret compartment for you.

One hand from each of you remained occupied as you held hands on the side of the table farthest from the prying eyes of fellow college students (as if any of them were sober enough to notice, though. Along with being great to you, the restaurant’s very greasy menu meant it was a good spot to quench munchies or quell the pain of an especially bad hangover).

A phone – your phone, you realized – vibrated obnoxiously on the other side of the table. Previously forgotten, you broke from the moment to reengage with the (seemingly) hundreds of people who were attempting reach you via text. At first you thought it’s an email from a client – but then you realized it was a text from a classmate. Specifically, the girl who sat front and center in the lecture hall you and Natasha shared.

“Who’s that?” Natasha asked.

You furrowed your brows as you texted, swallowing the last bit of food. “Oh, Lindsay from our class. She wants to know what I got on the quiz.”

Natasha then realized she never bothered to figure out her grade, and it brought all her anxiety about graduating on time and also making sure you’d never leave her and oh my god what if she failed this fucking quiz?

A few moments of soul-crushing silence passed before you put your phone back down. Natasha watched you like a cat stalking a fake mouse on a string, or a drunk mom at a Christmas party eyeing a dessert table; the drive was genuine, but the goal? Ridiculous. Absolutely, totally ridiculous.

You didn’t press her like she expected, though, didn’t even stare at her with that evil eye Natasha’s sure you got from your mother on more than one occasion. You just went back to eating your food, and put your phone back out of reach.

You noticed her staring at you when you went to borrow (steal) another piece of food from her plate.

“What?”

Natasha furrowed her brow. “Don’t you…Don’t you want to know what I got on the quiz?”

You shook your head as you stole another few bites worth of food. “Not unless you want to tell me.” You shrugged as you swallowed. “I’m not gonna, like, push you if you don’t want to tell me. I’m not my mother.”

Natasha smiled at that and left the conversation there. She was unnaturally quiet for the new few minutes as she listened intently while you told more stories and commented on the food and thought out loud about school and the rest of your life and should you go shopping soon?

Throughout all of it, Natasha remained incommunicative – to the point you started to worry.

“Are you okay?” you asked and reached across the table to put your hand over hers. She smiled, softly, before she replied.

“I really care about you, you know,” she said, low and almost inaudible. You said nothing in return. “And I’m very bad at this. I’m so bad at this. I spent a lot of my childhood in rooms with therapists who said less than I did. I’m not good at,” she waved her hands as she tried to find the right words. “I’m not great at emotions. And expressing them and telling people about them and all that shit. Okay?”

You swallowed the last tastes of duck sauce that coated your back teeth. Despite the sweet substance being a liquid, it felt like a waterfall of boulders cascading inside your throat. “Nat, I-“

“This isn’t me saying I love you, but I want…” Natasha was on the verge of crying, just as you were. She averted your gaze as she continues, staring at the booth cushion directly behind you. “I want to commit to you in some way. I like you, I like the person I am when I’m around you. And I don’t want to lose you because I was too much of a pussy to make a move.”

You said nothing, did nothing. Despite her not looking at you, you stared at her very serious facial expression and watched every muscle twitch for some signs of lying. You saw none.

“I…,” Natasha met your eyes as you spoke. Your mouth was so dry you nearly coughed – but the idea of making any sound terrified you. “I…I need some air.”

You didn’t wait for a reply as you pushed yourself out of the booth and ran out the front entrance.

Natasha didn’t wait for the door to close behind you before she chased after you. She left both of your phones and wallet at the booth, not wanting you to get out of eyeshot but also terrified of the waitstaff thinking the both of you were dine-and-dashers (and terrible ones, at that).

She followed you outside, ache in her heart an excellent distraction from the nighttime chill that dug tiny knives into her pale skin. Still, as her breath was visible in a faint fog in front her, no pain was as unimaginable as the one as losing you.

“Babe, plea-“  began, voice small and nonthreatening as possible.

You interrupted her and avoided looking into her eyes and picked at a loose thread in the sweater you were wearing – Natasha’s sweater you were wearing.

You worried it was the last time you’d ever see her again, and yet you refused to look at her. You refuse dto look at her large eyes and the bags under them, at her nimble hands – thin and agile from years of typing; at her plush lips or beautiful hair or-

Wasn’t that the cruelest irony of all? Of the cognitive dissonant fear of missing something while desperately avoiding looking at it. Still, you chose to jump off the proverbial cliff with your eyes clenched shut and nails digging into the pads of your soft palms and blood rushing in your ears louder than anything you’d ever heard in your life.

“I’m a sex worker.”

Natasha’s eyebrows furrowed and she breathed heavily, like when your mom got mad at you for bringing home that C your freshman year. “There’s-“

“I’m a sex worker. I make my own porn. I sell my nudes. It’s my main,” you sighed. “It’s my only source of income. It’s how I make money. It is how I will continue to make money. It’s how I stay mostly-independent from my very judgmental mother. It’s how I plan on staying mostly-independent from my very judgmental mother and my very judgmental family and the very judgmental world. And if you think that’s morally wrong of whatever, or that I’m some sort of sub-human, or that I’m evil, or that I should stop…”

For the first time that night, you looked her straight in the eyes. No smiling, no laughing, no wishing to see her beautiful face. Power. Authority. Truth. You tried to channel the red you saw on all those feminist theory books you’d had to read for the class that brought you and Natasha together.

“If you don’t believe in the validity of my labor I cannot and will not date you,” you were snarling as you stomped toward her until your toes nearly touched. “I’m not going to let someone who can’t love what I do love me.”

As you stood there, teeth bared and hands balled into fists, stories of rage flashed like lightning in your brain. Narratives of horror from your media studies class, of actresses whose only chance to scream was in front of a camera. If you had sharper nails, sharper teeth, glowing eyes that would be some award-winning monologue where people clap and call it “mind-blowing” and give it “five out of five stars.” You’d be a prime example of how satisfying rage can be as a subversive practice.

But no. You were no antihero(ine), no supernatural being caught on tape. You were not on the silver screen, you were not being streamed on some overpriced platform, you were not the subject of dissertations on media studies or really good articles on feminism or whatever else academics were doing with their time in tenure. You had filed-down nails and wide eyes and soft skin and an uneasy stomach and shaking hands and breath that faintly showed in the air when you exhaled. You had tears that threatened to fall. You had fear.

Natasha’s eyes flitted nervously, her lip between her teeth. For a moment, neither of you said anything.

Natasha was the one to speak first. Her voice sounded as terrified as you felt – with words that were spat through a set jaw and teeth bared.

“Who hurt you?”

You took a half-step back, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What? Natasha, what the fuck are y-“

“Who hurt you?” she whispered, words like knives and eyes just as dangerous. You stepped back, almost scared of her and what she could do to you.

You were pressed against the side of the building then – you could feel the brick and mortar itching at the skin of your back through your top. “Natasha what the hell are you talking about? I don’t kn-“

“Yes,” she stepped back, but grasped at your left hand as she did so. She was a ship tethering to a dock, floating out on the water but always willing to come back to port. “Yes, you do. You know exactly who, what, I’m talking about. What they did. Just tell me who they are, and I’ll ruin their lives.”

You looked for the joke, the punchline. You looked for a glint in her eye that said she was fucking with you and was waiting for you to laugh it off. When you were in seventh grade you got asked out as a joke and the football player made the exact same facial expression you now hunt for.

But you found nothing, no teasing or set up in a larger scheme to mock you. She was serious as you’d ever seen anyone be. “What in the fuck-“

“Tell me who they are. Tell me the name of every person who ever made you feel like shit and I’ll ruin their lives. I’ll steal their identity. I’ll make it so they can never get a job, or a car, or a house again. I’ll do it in a heartbeat,” Natasha let go of your hand and held your face in her food-warm palms. “I will destroy the very existence of every person who ever made you feel like this, because you deserve someone who will protect you from all that bullshit. And I want to be that person.”

The silence was painful, almost. But also comforting. Still, you broke it so speak. “Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend.”

Natasha smiled, and pecked your lips. “Good. Now come finish my food with me, it’s getting cold and our waitress is definitely judging us.”

You broke into a fit of laughter, nearly wheezing as she guided you back inside. The food was good, even though it had cooled considerably while you were both outside – greasy and thick with flavor and hot in your mouth along with your soul and Natasha held your hand on the table and fed you with her fork and you stole bits of her food while she was distracted. At one point, Lizzo played on the restaurant soundtrack and Natasha sung low with you, and you ordered more food to take home and it was hot, too hot in your hands as you carried the large brown paper bag soaked with grease to her apartment. Maybe you were going eat the food in the morning, maybe you were going eat it later tonight. It, truly, did not really matter.

There wasn’t much time between when you put the leftovers in the fridge and when Natasha pushed you onto your knees in her (and your) (it was now shared) bedroom. There also wasn’t much time between when your knees hit the ground and when Natasha grabbed the ball gag from its place in her toy drawer.

“I’m so happy you’re mine,” Natasha cooed as she adjusted the matte black straps. She kissed at your temples when it was secured, murmuring sweet words into the top of your hairline. If there was anyone else watching you, if there were some voyeur witnessing this profession of ownership, you doubt they could hear her. The entire world could be gazing at the two of you under a microscope and they would know nothing. Wasn’t it something wonderful, to share such, dare you say it, love that cannot, will not be observed by a single being outside your pairing? “Such a pretty little thing, a beautiful little toy for me.”

You didn’t dare move, worried even a flinch would disappoint her. Even as spit began to fall down your chin and between your breasts, as it pools in the gap between your legs, you successfully resist the urge to wipe it away. Natasha walks to the end of the bed, perching herself on the covers. The silence isn’t thick or uncomfortable, rather something closer to electric, something you can feel on the insides of your nose as you sniffled.  

Slowly, she raised her right hand and crooked her first finger. You understood immediately and you got on your hands and knees to crawl across the room to her. When you reached the end of the bed you waited, obediently, for her.

Like at the restaurant – you were nearly bursting out of your skin with excitement as you awaited instruction.  

“You’re so pretty, baby,” she cooed. “Now come up on the bed and let me wreck that pussy.”

You do as you’re told without hesitation, scrambling to get on the bed and onto your back. Natasha grabbed a bottle of lube out of seemingly nowhere and poured it over the same strap from the first time she fucked you.

You moaned deeply and reached for something, anything; you whined high in your throat as she pounded into you, the bed smacking against the stained wall with each thrust.

“You’re too pretty for your own good, you know,” her voice was breathless as she spoke. “Normally I would try to keep my toys intact, try to keep them in good condition, but I just can’t seem to help myself around you.”

With each word your back arched farther, your fingers tightened around the sheets.

“F-fuck,” you moaned around the thick plastic sphere in your mouth as you tried to push your back closer to Natasha’s chest.

She grabbed your hair and bit at the curve of your ear before she spoke in a low voice that sent another wave a slick down your inner thighs. “What do you belong to?” she hisses. “Who does this pussy,” she slapped your cunt and you cried out at the stinging pain. “belong to?”

You didn’t hesitate. “You Mommy, I belong to you!”

In that moment, you wondered whether Natasha’s neighbors could hear your screams. But in the one right after, you realized you really, truly, di not give a single flying fuck what they could hear.

“Fuck yes, you’re mine,” she growled as she pressed your face into the sheets, as she loomed over you like a god would punish some human exercising an unholy level of hubris. “Don’t you fucking forget it.”

You couldn’t speak because of the ball gag – didn’t even try to – yet Natasha seemed to know exactly what you wanted to say.

“You wanna cum, love?” she cooed, still fucking into you. “You wanna cum over Mommy’s cock?”

You nodded, the whines high in your throat resembed something close to a please yes please Mommy please I wanna cum I wanna cum I wanna cum.

Just like the lube, Natasha grabbed the hitachi out of thin air before she turned it on low and pressed it to your neglected clit. It was something, it was enough, but only just so. Your muscle tensed and you wailed out as you bucked your hips, as you tried to fuck yourself harder onto the toy. Natasha notices and slows her thrusts, laughing as you become more and more desperate.

“You’re so pathetic,” she hissed. “Such a pathetic little toy. You’ll do anything to cum, won’t you?”

You nodded; words garbled.

Natasha laughed again. “Of course you would, slut. You’d do anything for me, right? You’d do anything I told you to? You’re just a mindless little toy for me, just a dumb little thing with no thoughts besides how you can please me…”

You were drooling around your gag so much it covered your cheeks and pooled on each side.

You’re blissed out, eyes glazed over and body wonderfully lax. Natasha’s isn’t done with you yet, though, because of course she isn’t. You’re now officially her girlfriend, officially hers, and maybe it’s that satisfaction or excitement or whatever in her blood but it it’s letting her stop, not now, not when you look so ethereal with a halo of sweaty hair and the sheets looking like wings and your skin practically glowing.

Not just any angel, her angel – her perfect little blessed creature, sanctified even as she degrades you in such a sacrilegious way.

“I want you to cum when I count to ten,” Natasha murmured as she pushed the sweaty hairs that had escaped their confines from your eyes. “Alright, baby?”

You nodded and tried to chase the fleeting feeling of her fingers as they dusted over your feverish skin.

She turned the Hitachi up a setting, smiling as it met your clit and you cried out.

“One,” she mumbled, rubbing the head against you in small circles. It was something, but certainly not enough.

“Two.”

Natasha knew this. She knew you didn’t orgasm all that easily.

“Three.”

Regardless, she agonizingly slowly turned the toy up a setting. Just as you feared, it remained insufficient.

“Four.”

God, nearly halfway there and you were terrified what would happen if you couldn’t cum. Part of it was exhilarating, but part of it gnawed a small hole in your stomach that left you…empty, somehow.

“Five.”

She ticked it up one, two more settings. You sighed in relief and moved your hips with what little mobility she’d allowed you.

“Six.”

She increased the vibrations again and reveled in your squeals.

“Seven.”

You cried out and wanted to beg for mercy.

“Eight.”

You didn’t.

“Nine.”

You felt like you’d forgotten how to breathe, lungs shriveled up into nothingness. It was as if you could feel each of your cells as they begged for oxygen, as your blood desperately tried to each your heart and brain.

“Ten.”

You came with a deafening scream, your whole body shaking for what feels like forever.

When you came down, your girlfriend was next to the bed, holding what you could only is another section of rope. What she planned to do with it, you had zero idea.

“How ya doin’, baby?” She asks. Natasha could sense something was off, but worried about misreading the signs.

It’s obvious she was not incorrect, though, when you tapped at your thigh three times.

Immediately, Natasha drops the toys in her hands and rushes over – untying the gag and freeing your limbs.

“What’s wrong, baby?” She scanned your body – terrified of finding blood or something worse. “What do you need?”

You swallowed what little spit you could find, your voice hoarse as you spoke. “Red,” a pause as you attempted to swallow once more. “Water.”

It was  all Natasha needed before she was rushing off to the fridge to grab a chilled bottle of the stuff and one of those reusable straws she stole from your apartment.

When she returned to the room she pulled you into her lap, keeping you upright as she leaned against the wall.

Natasha watched every muscle, every twitch as you drank from the straw. Your body seemed unwilling to move itself, relying on Natasha to hold you upright enough so that you didn’t choke. The room was silent except for the sound of your noisy swallowing (and, soon, the slurping of last droplets of water). You were about to ask for more, but Natasha found an unopened plastic water bottle within reach and held that for you, too. It reminded you of the first time the two of you fucked, and suddenly the world didn’t feel so cold anymore.

“I’m done, Mommy,” you told her when half the water was gone. “I’m good.”

“You sure, babygirl?” her voice laced with deep, genuine concern. Her eyes reflected the same emotion.

You nodded, leaning into her and rubbing your knuckles where they laid against her thigh. “I’m sure, Mommy. Thank you.”

Natasha closed the bottle and tossed it into the half-open bedside table drawer before she wrapped you in her arms. “Of course, honeybee. I’m proud of you for using your safe word, thank you for trusting me.”

You mmmed and laid there for a moment, your breathing in rhythm with Natasha. You two sat there, comfortable in the silence. If there was anything else to say, you’d say it – but for the while you enjoyed the wordless space you and her existed in.

It took a long while, after your heart had slowed and your breathing had evened out, but you eventually fell asleep in Natasha’s arms. It was peaceful, deep – somehow impossibly more satisfying than any of the other times you’d fallen asleep, even the times you’d fallen asleep with her. There, secured from harm in her arms and wrapped in blankets, you felt secure. It was indescribable, it was wonderful, it was safe. And to you, in that moment, it was heaven.

[nerdy-bookworm-1998]

Tony’s Christmas Surprise

Pairing: Dad!Tony Stark x Daughter!Reader Words: 810 Warnings: Slight angst if you squint, fluff. Summary: Request from @robertdowneyhiddlesbatch : “ holiday prompt: Tony Stark deciding to not celebrate christmas this year, but ends up having the best christmas ever (when his loved ones drop by/plan something unannounced) “

A/N: This is part of my 25 Days of Christmas Writing Challenge. For those that are interested, I still have 21 request spots available. Just send me a request for what you would like me to write along with the character. I will write for Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Legolas, Thranduil, and Kili. Feedback and reblogs are appreciated. If you want to be tagged in future works, just drop me an ask.

It is two weeks until Christmas, and Tony is busy working on updates for his latest suit when the ear-splitting sound of Black Sabbath cuts off to give way to Friday's Irish lilt. "Boss, you have a message from little miss. Shall I play it for you?"

Tony puts down the screwdriver in his hand and reaches instead for his cup of coffee. "Thanks, Friday, you can go ahead and play it," he says, already smiling at the thought of hearing his little girl's voice.

"Hey pops, just wanted to give you a call and tell you Europe is incredible. I'm learning so much and having so much fun. I do have a little bad news though, there's a major snowstorm expected to blow in tonight and last through the next week, so I won't be able to make it home in time for Christmas, but I'll try and be there for New Years. I have to go they're starting games night in the rec room. Love you," y/n's message ends. Tony can feel the loneliness creep up on him.

This would be the first year you've not spent the holidays together. Tony already knew that Pepper was at a conference in Beijing and Rhodey was busy doing something classified for the air force. The rest of the team all had family and friends to spend time with, so he would be alone in the compound. Suddenly, Tony didn't feel as cheerful as before. "Friday," he looks up at the ceiling.

"Yes, boss?" the AI replies softly, sounding concerned.

"Cancel protocol Santa's workshop for this year, please," Tony says before draining his cup and turning back to the armor scattering his workstation.

"Protocol Santa's Workshop terminated, is there anything else you would like me to do?" she asks, sounding almost...sad, or as sad as an AI can be.

"No, thank you. I just wanna be left alone."

It is the day before Christmas. Tony had just finished completing all the updates on his latest suit. He stands up from his workstation, stretching out the muscles in his arms and back, groaning as he feels his joints crack and pop. The compound is completely silent. Everyone had left to be with their families at the beginning of the week.

Deciding he may as well check if there is still any of the left-over dessert pastries Wanda had made, Tony slowly walks through the darkened halls towards the kitchen. As he nears the door to the common room, he can hear the chattering laughter of multiple voices and the soft crooning of Christmas carols coming through the speakers.

Rounding the corner, he is greeted with the sight of not only y/n, Pepper, and Rhodey, but the rest of the team as well. All of them are spread out around the room, decorating a gigantic Douglas Fir tree in the corner of the room, next to the roaring fireplace. There are large glasses of eggnog, hot chocolate, and mulled cider on the coffee table, along with plates of fruit mince pies, mini puddings, and fruitcake. Everyone is wearing knitted sweaters and Santa hats.

Y/n is the first to notice her dad standing in the doorway, looking as if he can't quite believe his eyes. "Hey, dad! You're just in time to put the star on top of the tree!" she grins, bounding over to Tony to give him a warm hug.

"I thought you said you weren't going to be able to make it this year," he mumbles into her hair, wrapping his arms tight around her shoulders.

"The storm shifted, giving just enough of a break to get our plane in the air before it closed in again. I picked up Pepper after she let me know the conference ended early, and Rhodey got a ride with Nat and Clint. The rest were already on their way home since the lodges were over-booked. Is it okay that we're all here?" she asks, suddenly worried her dad might have had other plans.

"Okay?" Tony asks incredulously. "Sweetheart, I've never been happier to have a home full of all the people I care about. I just have one last question; is there a sweater for me too?" he asks with a grin.

After helping her father pull on his sweater (red with white reindeer and snowflakes), y/n leads him over to the rest of their family to finish decorating the tree and polish off all the delicious treats.

It's Christmas morning. The living room is bursting with life. The whole team, along with their loved ones are sitting on the couches as they open all the gifts they had gotten for each other while devouring the breakfast y/n had made.

Tony sits back on the couch closest to the tree with Pepper curled into one side and y/n into his other. "Merry Christmas, Dad," y/n whispers.

"Merry Christmas, kiddo," Tony whispers back, his heart filled to the brim with love for his family.

Tags:

@mcdesij @spiderrrling @arrow-guy @interestedbystanderwrites @caplanreads @gwendelerynan @here2have-fun @bookscoffeeandracoons @bambamwolf87 @loricameback @rockrchick51 @love-nakamura @baebeepeach @timelordy-fangirl2 @jewelofwinter @caramell0w @jewels2876 @ladysergeantbarnes @notawritergettingtherethough @patzammit @fanfictionjunkie1112 @lumar014 @kirstie-evans-writes @robertdowneyhiddlesbatch @lil-lex1 @dragonrosegardens @bookgirlunicorn @shadymidge @kaithezaftig @that-place-called-middle-earth @marshyrebelcloud @rebekahdawkins

[wonderlandmind4]

Delicate Stages of Life: 24

A Piece of Me

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC; Platonic Steve Rogers x OFC

Summary: Life in Wakanda is filled with love, laughs, some tears, all emotions, lazy days, goats, hot springs, a soul connection, and something dark that looms over Bucky’s and Ana’s domestic bliss…

Warnings: Language. Angst. Loss, Grief. Labor pains. Non-graphic child birth.

Words: 11,820

A/N: Again, sorry for taking so long to update. This was a monster for me to write and it’s just been hard to write lately, BUT, this chapter jump starts the last phase of the Drabbles...  (Do not read unless you’ve read Delicate Stages first) beautiful moodboard by @afewmarvelousthoughts​ and thank you for all your help and tears and yelling at me. I’m sorry! <3 **I have never given birth, just going off experiences of mothers I know**

Holidays: 29 weeks Dec 13th:

One morning Ana wakes up to a solid kick from inside her stomach, rapidly blinking at the odd light streaming through her window. After she carefully sits up, soothing her hands over her round belly, she blinks again, startled.

Snow. It had snowed sometime during the night and with the sight comes the realization; it’s the middle of December. Time had ticked by in muted colors to Ana that when she finally came back to herself, five months had passed. Five months since the air filled with ashes. Five months since she last touched Bucky. Five months since the absence of his soul.

Now it’s nearly Christmas. Ana can’t even remember her birthday or Thanksgiving passing. Though by the tears escaping her eyes and the ache in her chest, it’s not going to be a good day. She continues to stare out the window, the snow-covered ground and trees in the distance offer a bittersweet illusion of a perfect world. Quiet. Tranquil.

A memory invades Ana’s mind from last year. Her and Bucky snuggled together in front of a fire at Tony’s cabin, talking about a future family. She shakes the memory from her head and finally gets out of bed, ignoring the very real feeling of Bucky’s arms around her. Ignores the phantom scent of his breath and the spiced apple toddy he drank that evening.

Waddling her way to the kitchen with her hand supporting an ache in her lower back, she spots a blessed pot of coffee freshly brewed. Ana hasn’t had such a desperate urge for the taste of coffee in so long, that she nearly drops the mug she pulls from the cabinet in haste. Once she’s poured herself a generous amount, she inhales deeply. The nutty aroma sending her mind straight back to the first day she met Bucky, and all the sessions that followed.

She revels in memory, when she was proud of herself for pulling a smirk out of the infamous Bucky Barnes after she told him she didn’t poison the coffee. How they starting to bond over silly conversation of coffee, how he used to tease her but ask how to make it properly. How Bucky would sometimes show up before her, waiting for her to arrive with coffee in hand. Ana is so lost in her mind, she doesn’t register the shift of air behind her.

“That’s caffeinated, and I know you are not about to drink it while seven months pregnant.”

Snapping back to reality, Ana shoots a glare over her shoulder at Steve. “Being seven months pregnant is the perfect reason to drink it.”

The sigh Steve emits makes her step back out of his reaching range, just in case. “Ana,” He draws out in mock disappointment.

“No! I need it need it, Steve,” She practically whines, clutching the hot mug to her chest. “Especially today. With the snow and these fucking memories, and Carol isn’t here to help regulate me, and my rings don’t fit right now. I just need caffeine, just this once.”

His eyes narrow. “Just this once?” He repeats incredulously. “Didn’t Rhodes catch you sneaking his coffee a week ago?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” Ana shrugs, lifting the mug to her lips.

Sounds of scuffling come from the front hallway then, Ana distracted enough for Steve to finally and carefully, snatch the mug away from her hands. She makes a noise of protest, before she sees the dark green branches of a pine tree. Natasha and Rhodes carry in a small tree, with Rocket following behind them, an axe propped over his shoulder.

“What the hell is that?” Ana demands quietly, her chest tightening.

“It’s a tree,” Nat snipes dryly. “What the hell does it look like?”

They set the tree down in the living room, adjusting the stand that’s already anchored to the trunk. An onslaught of rage and heartache overcome Ana for reasons she can’t quite comprehend. Abruptly it takes everything she has not to grab the axe from Rocket, chop the tree into little pieces and throw them into the fireplace.

Holidays are meant to be joyful. Holidays are meant to celebrate with families and loved ones. Holidays are meant to bring brightness. They’re meant for the rest of the world to fade away into warmth, sparkles, the smells of baked goods.

Not this time. Ana sees nothing joyous about that tree, just the inevitable death of its needles. She doesn’t feel the warmth of the season, just the continuous frigid void in her chest. Outside, the falling snow morphs into ashes.

“Get it out of here.” Ana nearly growls, her fists clenching; the lights flicker. She can no longer look at it without wanting to scream.

“Uh, why?” Rhodes demands, crossing his arms. “It’s nearly Christmas.”

“I don’t care, just get it out! I don’t want it in here! It doesn’t belong here!”

Rhodes serves Ana a look so stern, she abruptly feels like a scolded child.

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to dial that back,” He commands, gesturing to her. “This is misplaced anger, and you’re taking it out the wrong way. This might not be something you want, but don’t forget, you aren’t the only one suffering through depression. And maybe if you recognized that, you’d realize a damn Christmas tree just might make everyone else forget the shit that’s happened for once.”

His words are a punch to her heart. Immediately all her anger melts from her bones as she looks at the floor. Rhodey is one hundred percent correct, embarrassingly Ana is reminded of how much she truly missed when she shut her emotions off. She hasn’t been fair or considerate of anyone for months. Just because she can’t handle a fucking tree, doesn’t mean she can force anyone else to do the same.

Her throat burns with that wake-up call; the flicker stop flickering. Ana slowly gathers herself, breathes deeply while stroking her hands over her stomach to soothe herself. The baby moves and rolls in response. Finally, she nods.

“You’re absolutely right,” She concedes, meeting his eyes once more. “I’m sorry I snapped. I just…I’m just not in the mood to celebrate any holiday, but I shouldn’t expect anyone else to. I apologize.”

Rhodes stares her down a few moments before his expression breaks. “Accepted.”

The tense silence that follows is heavy and awkward, until Steve pushes the coffee mug back into Ana’s hand. “Just the one cup.”

She silently takes the mug, barely feeling the warmth of the coffee on her fingers. “I’m just going to go lay down now.”

As she makes her exit, Rhodey stops her. “Do you…need anything?” He offers kindly.

She gives him a grateful smile over her shoulder. “No, thank you.”

*

Steve has been distracting himself from checking up on Ana by pulling the dust covered box of decorations from storage and going through it. Oddly, a glass ornament is wrapped in newspaper, and with a delicate swipe of his fingers over the ink, he’s brought back to another lifetime eight decades ago.

Christmases during The Great Depression weren’t grand; far from it. Memories of Steve stuffing his shoes with old newspapers to keep his feet warm- and possibly give himself a few extra inches in height- fill his head. His mother carefully wrapping handmade ornaments in those same newspapers. 

A slightly dirty Bucky just back from working odd jobs here and there, holding up a turkey he received as payment. He had dragged both Steve and his mother over to the Barnes household for a rare Christmas Eve dinner.

Giggles of four little girls huddled together as they watched Steve nail their brother in the face with a slush of a snowball. A quiet night of serving his mother tea as she laid sick in bed. Yet she still gifted him fresh parchment bound together to go with the charcoal pencils Bucky got him earlier.

The memories turn melancholy as Steve remembers that first Christmas without his mother. How Bucky selflessly spent the night away from his own family, taking care of a feverish Steve, even though all he wanted to do was stay huddled in bed and cry himself to sleep from grief. Instead, Bucky pulled out a bottle of whiskey from his tattered coat and dumped some into Steve’s tea.

“Nicked it from that banker's house on the other side of town,” Bucky had shrugged, looked proud of himself before he took a swig from the bottle.

“Buck,” Steve had reprimanded weakly. Until he remembered that banker is the one who cheated on his wife and bragged about it. He had taken too big of a gulp, nearly choked and spluttered.

Bucky waited, patted his back until his airways cleared. “Did that no good, two-timer notice you?”

“Hell no,” Bucky laughed. “Guys like him deserve to have his illegal booze stolen, he’s got enough money to smuggle more. Did you take your medicine?”

Steve held up his mug. Bucky rolled his eyes, then gently pushed him over to snuggle in next to him. Not once did he ever leave Steve’s side. Instead he chatted his ear off with stories of Rebecca attempting to make her own dolls, and that one brunette, brown-eyed dame he tried to save from a sleazy man before she decked the guy square in the jaw.

“I’m sweet on her now. Whatty’a think, Stevie? Think I’ve got a chance with a dame like that?”

(Steve huffs a laugh when he remembers that bit. Bucky always did have a type; it’s no wonder he fell for Ana so quickly.)

"Nah,” Steve said through a cough. “A girl like that wouldn’t give you the time of day.”

“Punk.” Bucky rubbed his knuckles atop his head.

“Jerk.” He weakly shoved him in retaliation.

Silence fell between them; sleep quickly took over Steve’s tired and sick body. He had slid further down the bed, pulling the thin blanket up to his chin.

“Thank you, Buck. For being here.”

Bucky took a minute to respond. “Didn’t want you to be alone during the holidays. With you til the end of the line, pal.”

The light pitters of something wet hitting the newspaper brings Steve back to the present. A few dark drops absorb into the paper before he realizes he’s crying. He hastily wipes the tear off his face, clears his throat and wills away the pain in his heart. Steve gets it. He understands why Ana reacted the way she did.

Shaking his head to clear his past, he rewraps the ornament and returns to his task. Once he’s done, Steve just sits in the closet by himself for a while; allows him himself to wallow. He’s absentmindedly scratching his growing beard, wondering if he should give it a shave when FRIDAY alerts him.

“Captain Rogers, the weather is a brisk 25 degrees outside, with steady snowfall.”

Frowning up at the ceiling as if the AI can see him, he replies, confused. “Thank you? Is there a reason you’re giving me a weather report?”

He swears FRIDAY sigh. “Mrs. Barnes has been sitting out for-“

“Got it, thanks.” Steve cuts her off, yanking the door open. He knows exactly where Ana is.

As he quickly makes his way through the compound, Steve apologizes to that younger Bucky during the all those winters. He recalls his exasperated best friend every time Steve hid out on rooftops and fire escapes after getting into fights. Every time, Bucky had been there with Steve’s coat, or just taken his own coat off to wrap around Steve’s scrawny little shoulders instead.

“Christ, Stevie, your lungs ain’t gonna work anymore the longer you stay out here, punk.”

When Steve climbs through her window, and finally opens the door to the roof, the irony isn’t lost on him. Ana is sitting on the furthest chair, staring out into the frosted woods, snow catching in her long hair. Only a thin blanket over her lap protects her from the cold and the biting wind from the height of the deck. Her hands are protectively cradling the bump of her stomach.

“Ana, what are you doing out here?” Steve questions, briskly walking to her. He places the jacket he found in her room over her shoulders; one of Bucky’s jackets. “You’ll freeze your toes off.”

“You’ll freeze your damn toes off, and I will not explain to your Ma why her son got frostbite.”

He wraps an arm around her, pulling her into his side to share his body heat with her. The old memories of Bucky practically yanking his asthmatic self into a slightly warmer building fade away.

“This is where we kissed the first time,” Ana reminisces, a quiet reserve to her voice. She points adjacent to them. “Right there, when I said those triggers words, he kissed me.”

Steve remembers when Bucky couldn’t stop pacing in his room after that night, panic stricken because he didn’t know how to process his feelings for her. He couldn’t understand how she put so much trust into him. Steve squeezes her shoulder, hoping to offer her some comfort.

“This is where Bucky told me he loved me for the first time. Up here, with pizza.”

His chest feels hollow realizing how many memories this rooftop holds for her. “C’mon honey, it’s not good for you to be out here, let’s go back inside. Warm you up.”

“Nothing is ever going to be the same,” Ana laments as if she didn’t hear him. “Holidays, birthdays, celebrations. Life.”

“Yeah.” Steve exhales wearily.

“I knew this. I knew all of this, but…for months I acted like I was the only one holding onto this grief so heavily. I’ve lost everyone, Steve. I’ve lost my whole family and I never thought I could feel more pain and grief than that. But I was wrong, this is so different. Because I could feel him leave me. I could feel Bucky’s soul rip from mine.”

“It’s incredible, Stevie. I can feel her all the time, like her life energy is this infinite sunlight around me.”

He sees that day clearly when Bucky had said those words to him. He remembers the look of pure awe and adoration on his friend’s face that day. Steve squeezes her closer, offering his comfort in the cold bitter air. Something wet falls onto his shirt, soaks in quicker than the snowflakes. He lifts his hand, gently wiping the tears off her cheeks before the cold can freeze them there.

“Hey now, Steve, c’mon. No tears, they’ll freeze on your face, pal.”

Steve swallows back yet another whispered memory, when he was frustrated the neighborhood bully just kicked his ass no matter how many times Steve got back up.

“Your pain isn’t invalid, Ana,” He tells her delicately, lifting the sleeve of the jacket to dry her face. “That is something none of us will ever begin to comprehend, that connection you both shared.”

“Maybe not,” Ana sniffs, “but that shouldn’t erase anyone else’s pain in my mind and that’s exactly what I was doing.”

“Watching you turn off your emotions was- fuck, it was haunting. It was scary because we couldn’t tell if doing that was just hurting you instead. I hated that you did that, but I also understand why you did. I think we just-“ Steve pauses to gather his words properly.

Ana speaks up before he does. “I’ll never be able to express how sorry I am for shutting everyone out, for acting like- well...like a cold hearted-“

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Steve chastises firmly. “I think we just wanted to have any ounce of your old self back. We were all concerned.”

“I’m still trying to find that myself,” Ana sighs, voice cracking; she sounds exhausted. She tilts her head to the side, leaning on his shoulder. “I got mad about the tree because the memories of last Christmas are perfect. It was our first one together, did you know that? Our first time celebrating the holiday season. I don’t want to celebrate anything.”

“So, keep the eggnog away from you then?” Steve quips lamely. Ana winces and gags.

“Fuck no,” She picks her head back up. “I don’t think the baby’s palate will tolerate that.”

“And I don’t think the baby can tolerate the cold much longer,” He counters. “Let’s get you inside.”

Steve drops his arm in favor of carefully helping up from the chair. Ana winces again, her hands covering her stomach. Pain flashes over her face for a moment, and panic shoots through Steve’s chest.

“Are you okay? What was that?” He asks worriedly, hand hovering along her back.

“It's fine,” She pants, waving him off with her hand. “Just some pressure is all. Little Bean’s running out of room I think.” Relief shags Steve’s shoulders. Until- “The baby is moving a lot. Do you want to feel-?”

“I’m good. That’s not, uh, it’s kind of intimate. Time to go inside.” Steve ignores her bewildered look and focuses on guiding Ana down the stairs safely. He keeps Bucky’s jacket wrapped tight around her.

*

The memory of last Christmas spent snuggling close with Bucky in front of a fire and talking about their future mocks Ana. It was one of those perfect moments in a lifetime, and she didn’t want to tarnish the memory with this Christmas being...widowed. Alone and 7 months pregnant.

Since Rhodey’s harsh truth, Ana has kept any bitter despair to herself. However, she did allow herself one moment of a Christmas song. It made her smile briefly, before a memory of both Bucky and Tony singing at the top of their lungs as they decorated the tree cut it short.

Ana does not want to decorate the tree. She stays in her room, until Rocket barges in, trailing a bunch of silver tinsel in his wake.

He demands to know, “Who was the asshole to make such a messy infuriating thing to put on a damn stupid tree!?”

Nebula stood at the doorway, a murderous expression on her face as she fights with several pieces of tinsel, static making it cling to her. Ana can’t help the surprised laugh that bubbles out of her at the both of them.

Vaguely, in the back of her mind as Rocket drags her out of her room demanding to untangle the tinsel, Ana thinks the two might have planned it all. She’s exhausted by the time she unknots the stuff, focusing more on the silver plastic and quietly refusing to put anything on the tree.

By the time she’s done, she waddles back to her room, Natasha close behind. All she does is hand Ana a hot mug of cider and snuggles in close. Nat talks to and gently pets her hands over her stomach and promises the baby to teach them her “death by thighs” move one day. Ana drifts off to sleep, head tucked under Natasha’s neck.

When Christmas does come around, it’s with stinging emptiness, of several people missing and the weight of the whole world grieving. At breakfast, as she’s slowly eating, Ana finds herself with a small pile of gifts next to her on the table. Her glare prompts a response from Steve who had given her one more.

“You stayed locked in your room for your birthday last month,” He shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck. “You aren’t having a baby shower. Just accept them. Please?”

Most gifts end up being for the baby anyway, including a crib, so Ana lets it slide and quietly thanks them.

She ends up fighting back tears the longer she stays out in the living room, desperately wanting to escape. She’s exhausted, down to her bones, and the aching in her chest throbbing Bucky’s name hurts more and more. She closes her eyes and breathes, flexing her fingers and smoothing her hands over her stomach. The baby kicks and moves before it settles a few moments later.

Someone sits next to her, and she doesn’t have to open her eyes to tell that the stupidly large and warm bicep pressing against her own arm is Steve. He doesn’t say anything, just simply takes hold of her right hand, and squeezes. 

He doesn’t let go, and despite the prickling of tears behind her eyelids and the trembling of her lips, Ana leans her head against his shoulder. The sense of comfort seeps into her own energy, and soon after she falls asleep.

30 Weeks Pregnant:

Just on the verge of her eighth month, Ana hears Natasha’s irritated sigh, as she munches on a slice of mango pizza. 

"Ana, I swear if you don’t stop nesting in the office, I will throw away all the mangoes and you’ll be stuck with mushrooms for your pizza topping from now on.”

As Natasha Romanoff threats go, it’s rather mild. She shrugs as Nat holds up two files as proof.

“It was messy!” Ana defends, her feet propped up on the coffee table.

“Lucky you’re pregnant,” She grumbles.

“Enhanced hearing, remember?”

Natasha glares at her. “It took me an hour to find my notes. Why don’t you organize Steve’s shit? Or Rocket’s? I haven’t seen you in Nebula’s room, go nest in there.”

“Nebula would cut my hand off, pregnant or not.”

“It’s true.” Nebula speaks up with her husky low menacing voice, pizza slice in hand. Ana raises her eyebrows at her. She pauses. “Maybe.”

Ana beams. Natasha huffs, coming over to join them. She bends over to gently pat Ana’s belly. Which has grown even more in the past weeks, but dropped as well, the baby’s head sitting lower.

“Your mama better name you Natasha after I put up with her little tendencies huh little one?” Nat coos.

“That’ll go over well if Bean is a boy,” Ana jokes, also patting over where she thinks its little foot is. There’s a responding nudge, a rather firm one. Ana frowns. “Sassy.” Natasha chuckles, then steals Ana’s slice. “Hey!”

“Now someone’s hand will be chopped off,” Nebula inputs at the scene. Ana nods with a pout.

“What are you going to do? Waddle after me with your swollen ankles?” Nat teases.

“You’re being mean to me,” She whines, but can’t keep the smile off her face.

Neither can Nat. “Then keep your nesting habits away from my files, Barnes.”

Ana steals the slice back. “I also reorganized your knives.”

 That earns another glare. “So, so lucky you’re pregnant.”

It’s rare, these little moments of teasing and humor. Five months have passed since The Snap, and Ana’s grief and pain are still as crushing as ever. Her dreams remain constant. Dealing with feeling her emotions again has become a little easier, but there are days where she feels shattered by them, and cries into her pillow, or the nearest pair of arms.

Lately, it’s been Natasha. But these moments are what helps get Ana and everyone else through the day. Hour by hour, day by day, week by week. She has also been keeping herself in check and trying to be attentive to everyone’s feelings around her.

“Has Steve woman upped yet and felt the baby kick?” Nat wonders. The red roots of her hair are growing back faster now.

“No…He’s still a little creeped out,” Ana yawns. “It’s kinda funny.”

Humming, Natasha suddenly stands up. “Time for your checkup, let’s go.” Groaning, Ana shoves the last bits of her pizza into her mouth. “Come on. It’s one of the last ones before your due date.”

Ana shimmies from her rather comfortable spot on the couch to the edge, taking a deep breath and readying her swollen ankles to stand. Both Natasha and Nebula carefully grab an arm and help Ana up, keeping her steady until she can stand on her own. An odd sort of pressure throb through her stomach, and she frowns, suddenly thankful she does have a checkup today. 

*

Three days later has Ana gasping awake from her dream. This time she swears she feels ashes slip through her fingers. Brings her right back to that horrid day in Wakanda, when she couldn’t reach Bucky in time. The same constricting feeling settles in her chest, and the room begins to feel hot; a golden orange glow briefly emits from her clenched hands.

Before her powers can lash out, Ana moves the best she can, hurriedly grabbing one of the beads. It only takes a few moments to get a video up, but the second she hears his voice, her heart begins to settle. The glow fades, and the rattling in the room that had started ceases.

Bucky’s timbre soothes her, replaying his lullaby twice more. On the third time, Ana pauses the recording, the projected image frozen on Bucky’s sweet face. The gentle fondness in his blue eyes, the slightly crooked smile, his long hair pulled into a bun, his beard just a touch unruly.

She remembers this day precisely; one of the last days Bucky sang to her stomach, to their child. No matter how many times Ana reminded him that the baby couldn’t hear him yet, he never cared.

It never stopped Bucky from randomly moving from one spot -be it the couch, bed, another room, the hut- to wherever Ana was and kept singing. It never stopped him from dropping to his knees as she made another strange snack she was craving in the kitchen and nuzzling his face against her barely there bump. Never kept him from staying up as she fell asleep to his words whispering lovingly against her skin. Feeling his warm breath, his sweet lips, his soft beard, his gentle caress of his fingers over her stomach. Feeling his heart, his love, his soul.

“I can hear it. The heartbeat.” Bucky would tell her, voice thick with emotion.

She hasn’t felt Bucky for months. 

Ana reaches out like she does in her dreams, fingers curving over his holographic jaw. She keeps her touch delicate, as to not distort the image. In this moment, only for a moment, she pretends she can feel him. Pretends that her husband is truly looking back at her.

“I’m sorry, Snowflake,” Ana murmurs, tears burning in her throat. “I haven’t been the same without you. I turned off my emotions. You wouldn’t have liked that at all, would you? I don’t even like myself right now.” 

Ana swipes the tears off her chin with her left hand. “But I swear I’ll try to be better. I swear I will take care of our baby for both of us, and he, she- our child will grow up knowing exactly who you are and how much you loved them. I just…I miss you. God, I miss you so fucking much I can’t breathe most of the time, and it hurts.”

Inhaling a shuddering breath, tears overcome her, sobs hitching in her chest. Ana brushes her shaking fingers over his cheek, the image rippling from her touch.

“I love you.”

When she turns off the bead and the image vanishes, she weeps into her hands. Ana wipes her cheeks, attempting to calm herself. Taking deep breaths, she places the bead back into it’s safe place in the drawer. A rather sharp kick from within makes her wince, then chuckle.

“Sorry, baby. I know I’ve been crying a lot lately.” Ana says to her stomach, rubbing soothing circles over her belly. “That can’t feel too good for you either.”

Once Ana’s crying slows, she cleans her face with tissues, blows her nose, and throws the tissues away in the bin beside her bed. Just then her ears pick up a sound outside her room. Carefully standing up, she walks to the door, pulling it open.

“Steve,” Ana greets with a sigh. She shouldn’t be shocked at this point.

Steve smiles sheepishly. “You alright?”

“Yeah. How much did you hear?”

He leans against the door frame crossing his arms, his shoulders hunched. “Just the ending. Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Just came by to see if you want to-“

Another kick and more movement briefly make Ana miss what he’s saying. Blowing a slow breath out she presses her hands over the spot; things are starting to get more uncomfortable.

“Sorry, could you repeat?”

He flashes her an understanding look. “Asked if you wanted to go for a walk with us. Nat and I.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” Ana agrees, fighting a wince from the kicking. “Dr. Hammond suggests it now that I seem to be healthy enough. Said the walking could help calm the baby.”

He laughs under his breath. “I can kinda see why,” He says, eyes on her stomach.

“Yeah, this little bean has been more active lately,” She pauses “Steve, um, would you like to feel the baby kick?”

Steve’s eyes snap up to her. “Oh, um, isn’t that a bit personal? I mean-“ He stumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Ana rolls her eyes fondly. This is her husband’s best friend, he shouldn’t feel weird about it. She grabs his hand, placing the flat of his palm just to the right of her stomach. A few long seconds pass, Ana carefully watching Steve’s expression. 

His brows are furrowed, his mouth curving down, as if he’s sad the baby isn’t moving for him. Then, the same rolling pushing movement comes once more and Steve’s blue eyes light up.

His mouth falls open slightly, a toothy smile across his lips. “Ana,” He gasps, meeting her eyes. “That’s…amazing.”

Ana can’t help but laugh, her heartache forgotten for the time being. “See, nothing to be nervous about. Kinda cool, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah. This, this is your baby. You and Buck’s…” His excitement fades into sorrow. Steve lifts his other hand to the opposite side, lightly scrunching his fingers as if he’s waving in a way.

“How about that walk now?” Ana cuts the melancholy short. She’s starting to feel the energy around them changing. Steve’s energy; the same kind he has been keeping from her. “Is it nice out?”

Pulling his hands off her stomach, Steve clears his throat and nods. “Bit warmer today, 56 right now.”

“Let me get dressed and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

“No rush.” Steve takes a step before he halts. “Are sure you’re okay, Ana?”

She gives him her most convincing smile, which is a good attempt on her part. “Yeah. Just, missing him a lot today. That’s everyday though,” She chuckles humorlessly. “I swear I’m good, Steve.”

Steve’s scrutiny lasted longer than Ana would have liked. Then he nods. “Take your time.” 

 *

The only entertaining thing about New Year’s passing was Ana sitting out on the patio, watching Rocket and Rhodey rig together a contraption to set off fireworks. Natasha sat next to her, Ana’s legs on her lap as she massaged her swollen ankles and feet under a warm cable knit blanket, sitting next to a heater. Nebula and Steve are locked in a card game, when the first firework goes off. Steve flinches then frowns. His eyes meet Ana’s for briefly, before he goes back to discarding.

As explosions go off in the sky, Bucky tightens his arms around Ana’s waist, his face hidden in her neck as he presses a kiss to her pulse. “I don’t think I’m fond of fireworks.”

Ana brushes her fingers through his soft hair, gently scratching his scalp. Slowly she uses her ability to calm his energy, soothe him deeper than a touch. “Makes sense. You are a war vet.”

“Used to hear them go off in Romania sometimes,” Bucky had confessed. “Always thought it was a sign Hydra found me. That they had bombs set around the building I lived in. It was something I could never shake.” 

Another one goes off in the distance; Bucky inhales her scent, his hands clutching her skin. Ana catches Tony walking by. “Tony, I thought no one was allowed to set off fireworks up here.”

He catches on quickly, pointing his glass of whiskey towards Bucky. Ana nods, then with an annoyed flare, he says, “Those damn kids. Goodie! I felt like chewing someone’s ear off tonight. I’ll call them!”

Bucky snorts, then sighs in content as Ana continues to relax his nerves with her powers. “They’re pretty, but...too loud.”

“I got you, Snowflake,” Ana promised, pulling up the blanket to cover them both and hide them away. 

“I know you do, Annie Doll,” He breathes sleepy. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen though.”

Ana chuckles, kissing the tip of her husband’s head as he drifts off to sleep. She can’t think of a better way to bring in the new year than Bucky feeling safe enough in her embrace to fall asleep, even with the ghosts that still haunt his past.

 POP!

Another firework glittering in the winter sky rips Ana out of her memories. She catches the small wince of broad shoulders.

“Hey guys,” Ana calls out to Rocket and Rhodey. “I don’t think the baby is fond of fireworks right now. Do you mind if you stop please?”

Rhodey acknowledges her meaningful look, beginning to replace the ones he took out. Rocket shrugs, turns off the machine they built with a wide grin.

“I just wanted to see if I could build it. I did, now I’m bored.” He states, then meets Ana’s eyes.

“How’s about we beat these losers at a game of poker?”

“Deal.”

Ana only lasts two rounds of poker, before Steve is helping her settle into bed. He insisted on following her and carrying her hot tea for her. She adjusts her body pillow and gets comfortable, tapping her hand over the lower part of her stomach where the baby settled with her.

“Thank you,” Steve says, pulling the comforter up for her. “For the fireworks. I know you did it for me.”

“Bucky and I,” Ana begins, pausing only to push past the lump in her throat. “We stayed at Tony’s cabin during the holidays. I don’t think he heard fireworks go off in a while, and out in the woods you aren’t allowed to bring them or set them off. Some neighbors did, and he was nervous about them. I calmed him as much as I could.”

“He never told me that,” Steve says, frowning. The look he gives Ana though, makes her feel bashful. His features soften, and he almost looks...happy. “He was always so in love with you, Ana, before he even knew it. Bucky wasn’t one to ever open up to anyone, even when we were kids. Watching him with you…I’m glad he found you.”

Ana sniffs, rubbing her eyes to stop the tears welling up from falling. The empty ache in her chest is a permanent feeling.

“Sorry, too much Bucky talk. You were having a better night, I shouldn’t ruin it.” Grabbing her hand, he gives it a firm squeeze.

“It’s alright. I just...didn’t want you to feel that same way.” She squeezes back.

“Get some sleep, Ana.”

As she relaxes, her body ready for said sleep, she says, “You too, Steve.”

It’s one of her better days; Ana sleeps through midnight, but the haunting call of her name still echoes through her mind. Her soul still screaming for its other half.

The week following the new year is slow, as if 2019 wants to remind them of half the universe gone. However, Ana’s panic slowly begins to build as she realizes there’s just over a month of the baby arriving.

She’s sitting in the room they decided to turn into a nursery -the room right next to hers- slowly stroking her hands over and over her round stomach. Looking around the room gives her mixed feelings.

A part of her seems to be happy, almost excited to be a mother. The other parts outweigh the joy, however. The bare walls, void of any decorations, makes her heart break. The dark wood of the crib and the changing table makes her seethe. The little animal mobile above the crib breaks her. The mobile hangs an orange fox, a gray owl, a brown bear, and a white wolf. 

Pushing herself off the rocking chair, Ana grabs the wolf and tears it off. The whole mobile comes down, crashing into the crib, but the wolf is clutched in her palm. She stares at it, anger boiling in her blood for reasons she can’t explain.

The harder she squeezes, the brighter her hand becomes. Flickering lights throw the room into shadows, over and over. Smoke is beginning to emit from the little wolf, her chest tightening as the edges singe. 

“I leave for, what, three weeks, and here you are literally starting fires in your hands.”

Ana snaps her head up. Carol Danvers is standing in front of her, amusement dancing in her eyes instead of any reprimandation. Carefully she places both of her hands over Ana’s fist, and all her raging energy subsides. She hadn’t been aware of anyone coming into the room, so focused on the white wolf.

Quickly pulling her hand out of Carol’s, Ana slowly uncurls her fingers. Sitting in the middle of her palm are the remains of the wolf, completely incinerated. Panicking, she drops it, the tiny ashes caught between her fingers.

“Oh my god,” Ana whispers, horrified at herself.

“Hey, Barnes, I’m sure it's fine,” Carol tells her gently. “They can get you another one.”

“You-you don’t understand,” Ana shakes her head frantically. Ash. Ashes on her hand, her fingers, ingrained in her skin. “I-I have to wash my hand. I have to wash my hand!”

“Come on.” 

Carol guides her out of the room, a steady hand on her back, and into the bathroom. Ana proceeds to scrub her right hand at least four times, and once again until her skin feels raw. She feels out of breath afterward, reaching for Carol once more.

“Can you take some deep breaths for me?” Carol coaches, helping her sit on the edge of the tub.

Ana huffs. “I’m trying. I-I can’t. No! Don’t touch me! What if…what if I hurt you? Like I hurt Steve?”

“Look at me, Ana. You are fine, you’re okay right now. You just got worked up and that’s okay.” Carol keeps firm eye contact. She attempts to hold her hands again, this time Ana allows her. “I won’t let anything happen to you. You aren’t going to hurt me or anyone else.”

Finally, Ana gets a deep breath in. She regulates her breathing with help from Carol, until she feels like her senses and energy are no longer overstimulated. Once she’s calm, they leave the bathroom and head outside to the bac deck at Ana’s request. The chill of the air clears her head more as she sinks into a chair. 

“It was a white wolf,” Ana tells Carol. Her silence is a cue to elaborate. “My husband...Bucky. He was given that moniker while he was recovering in Wakanda. He told me they sort of adopted, well, accepted him into their family, their culture. King T’Challa told me it also meant strong warrior.”

“That why you tore it off?” She guesses.

Ana shrugs, thinking it over. “I think I was already feeling too many emotions. I saw it, it reminded me of him and how- how everything in that room, we didn’t pick together. Hell, I barely picked anything in that room. I really appreciate Pepper and Nat setting it up, but we couldn’t do it together.”

Danvers remains quiet again, but Ana is grateful for it. She’s pretty good at reading how Ana is feeling, and her silent support is more appreciated than she knows. Ana’s energy always seems to stay dormant every time Carol is close. It’s something interesting to look into later.

“Where have you been?” Ana asks after some time.

During this time Steve found them after FRIDAY alerted him and gave her a thick blanket to keep warm. He stayed long enough to turn on the heaters, then left the women alone, but quietly thanked Carol in a nod Ana caught.

Carol sighs, slumping in her chair and propping her heels on the table. “Other planets. Some are worse from the repercussion of what that purple scrotum sack did. Been getting a lot of hits on my radar. I came back to bring you more elixir in case you needed it. And to check in on my favorite avenger.”

“M’not an avenger but Nat’s in the shooting range. Nebula is...I don’t know what she’s doing but I’m afraid to ask sometimes.”

She snorts. “So, should I not get you a stuffed wolf when the baby is born?”

Ana flicks her off, but Carol’s resounding laugh brings a smile to her face. 

*

When Pepper calls two days later, Ana can’t help but feel something odd about their conversation. As they chat about pregnancy, (”It’s like every ten minutes, Pep, I have to pee every ten minutes!”) Ana asking for any advice her cousin may for her upcoming labor, something continues to feel off. Especially when Pepper drops Tony’s name three times. The mention of him causes her to remember something about FRIDAY.

“Oh!” Ana perks up. “Has FRIDAY informed you of anything about me? Or to-”

A little voice pops up in the background, begging for a snack. “One second, sweetie,” Pepper says to her daughter, then back to Ana. “She just tells me your vitals sometimes.”

“That’s it? She doesn’t ask you for permission to use a security protocol?”

“I- Morgan, be patient please, I’m making it now. Sorry, Ana.”

“It’s fine. I was just wondering why T- um...FRIDAY would feel the need  to program an added feature.”

“What are you trying to ask?”

“I just...why would someone need to add an electric defense mechanism-”

“You know what?” Pepper cuts her off, exasperated. “I’m tired of being a go between. I have a toddler to raise who is currently trying to cut her own grapes, and I can’t deal with this right now. I love you, but if you want to know why, you need to ask him yourself.”

“Pep, what are you-”

“This riff between you two has gone on long enough. Talk to each other. I already have one child, I don’t need to raise two more. Speaking of which, you need to tell him. Here!”

“Wait, no!” Ana’s shout disturbs Rhodey from reading his book. 

He casts a curious glance her way. She frantically shakes her head, though Pepper can’t see her. Rhodey has now put down his book, mouthing an over dramatic what? Before she can let him know what is about to happen, it happens. There’s a shuffling on the other side of the line, followed by a confused yelp.

Quickly pressing the phone to her chest, she looks over at Rhodey in panic. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms; a sign of him agreeing with Pepper after he caught on. Taking a few calming breaths, Ana puts the phone back to her ear.

“-think the line went dead,” Is what she hears on the other side. Tony’s voice.

Heartbeat kicking up several notches, Ana braces herself. “I’m- I’m here.”

“Oh.” There’s a brief pause. “Hello.”

He sounds like he’s meeting a CEO of a company he dislikes. As if he would rather be anywhere else than speak with her.

“Hey, uh, hi. H-how are your day?” Ana cringes, wishing the ground would cave from under her. How are your day? Why is she so nervous to just speak with him!

“Good, great. If that was a question.” Tony answers, his voice is carefully calculated. “How are your day?” He repeats.

If she wasn’t feeling so guilty, so anxious, she may have laughed. Instead, she decides to get right to it. The sooner she tells him, the sooner she can end this painful phone call. “I have something to tell you.”

“Pepper mentioned.”

Right. Fuck, if she didn’t answer her phone, this wouldn’t be happening. Maybe Ana would have been fine with never telling Tony, and he would just have found out some other way. She just knows, deep down, how hurt he might possibly be.

She has never kept anything from Tony for as long as she knew him. With the way they left each other five months ago, well, telling him something he hadn’t known for this long could just drive the wedge between them even deeper.

Ana opens her mouth but all that comes out are tiny sounds of words dying on her tongue. She closes her mouth, eyes shifting to Rhodey, who nods encouragingly. Ana gathers herself once more, swallows her hurt and any pride she may have.

“Tony,” She finally says.

“Yep?” His response is quick; a tone Ana knows all too well. It’s the tone he uses to mask his own hurt.

“I-I should have told you sooner, but-” Inhale. Exhale. It shouldn’t be that hard to tell him this. Tony had been with her through some of the hardest events in her life. Suddenly not telling him feels like she insulted him personally.

“I’m pregnant.” 

The silence that stretches lasts so long, Ana has to check if the line went dead; it didn’t. “Tony?”

“How far? Five months?” Tony finally speaks up. He sounds distant.

“Eight.” The word comes out as a whisper. “I’m eight months along. 34 weeks.”

“Had an inkling. Do you want a congratulations?”

Ana feels like she was just slapped in the face. Tony doesn’t sound angry, just neutral, but even so, the words sting more than she ever thought they would. Her eyes prickle, her vision gets blurry. She clears her throat, turning her back on Rhodey so he doesn’t see her reaction.

“No, no, it’s fine. Just wanted you to know.”

“Girl, boy?” He asks.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Going old school, I see.”

“I just...I figured it was time to tell you,” Ana’s voice trembles. Her heart is aching, like she just ripped a band-aid from a gaping wound she forgot about. “I’ll let you-”

“Is it healthy?” Tony abruptly cuts her off. “Are…are you healthy?”

The question catches her off guard. “I- yeah. Um, there’s been some emotional stress and bed rest incidents, but otherwise, we’re healthy.”

“Good, good. That’s good. It’s late, you should go, rest.”

“Oh, okay.” Ana says weakly, feeling drained and disappointed. “Yeah. Um, have a good night.” She pulls the phone from her ear to hang up, then hears Tony call her name.

“Ana.”

She quickly holds the phone back up. “Yeah?”

“Will you let me- let us know? When it’s time?” 

Ana can’t be too sure, but she thinks she picks up a hint of hopefulness in his voice. “Yeah, I will. I’ll tell you.”

Another beat of silence passes. “G’night, kid.”

The nickname feels bittersweet, but maybe it’s a step in rekindling what she ruined of their relationship. “Goodnight, Stark.”

After she hangs up, a firm yet comforting hand squeezes her shoulder. “You good?” Rhodes checks.

Nodding, Ana shoots him something close to a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I just...I think I miss him. I do miss him.”

“You should have told him that. I know he misses you too.”

“Maybe...next time.”

Just those few minutes of that conversation has left Ana exhausted. She decides to take a nap, hoping that maybe sleeping will ease the ache on her chest.

*

Annie

Pain abruptly pulls Ana out of her sleep, ripping away from that dream world. She stares at the ceiling in confusion, wondering what exactly hurt enough to wake her up. Minutes pass, her eyes closing as she’s on the verge of falling asleep yet again, when the second wave hits.

“Oh fuck!” Ana yelps, her hands flying to her stomach. “F-F-FRIDAY, am I having a contraction?”

“I cannot be 100% accurate,” FRIDAY responds quickly. “I have alerted Agent Romanoff. There is a possibility of Braxton Hicks Contractions. I suggest changing positions and counting the minutes between each one.” 

Annie

A mixture of a sob and laugh escaped Ana’s lips, because of course she would hear his voice now as she hisses curses through her teeth. Oddly, the voice seems to calm her internal panic, through her pain. As she begins to sit up and shift, Natasha throws open the door. 

She’s talking but Ana can’t focus on her words just yet, too busy trying to lay on her side and fight through the contracting pressure. Thankfully, Nat helps her move and settle into a new position. Too long goes by, but finally the pain stops.

“Breathe, remember those exercises,” Natasha is telling her, rubbing her back. Ana adjusts her pillows, feeling utterly exhausted. “Do you know how long that was?”

“Two minutes and 24 seconds,” FRIDAY informs them. “Twenty minutes apart from the first one.”

“FRIDAY get Dr. Hammond on the phone please.”

“Already contacted.”

Ana just shuts her eyes, listening to the slight commotion around her. The baby moves, an elbow or foot clearly unhappy about the lack of space inside her uterus. She rubs her hand around her stomach, ignoring her fear of not being ready quite yet; it’s too early to give birth. Ana begins to wonder how Bucky would have handled this. 

Instead of feeling sad, a small smile spreads across her lips. Imagining someone like Bucky who was usually pretty calm and level-headed in most situations, his longtime soldier status the reason for that, would probably be panicking. Considering how he always acted any time Ana was in pain or discomfort.

“You look like a crazy person smiling like that.”

“Hasn’t anyone told you not to call a pregnant woman crazy?” Ana mumbles, cracking her eyes open to see Rocket smirking at her. “Are you so starved for entertainment you wanted to see what potential childbirth is like?”

Rocket shrugs, smirking. “Once I convinced some jerk the only way to smuggle his gun off Contraxia was to shove it up his ass. This isn’t as fun.”

A chuckle escapes her mouth, and suddenly the pressure she’s been feeling in her lower abdominal eases away. Ana heaves out a deep, long breath. Rocket’s smirk morphs into concern as he reaches out to gently pat the back of her hand. 

“Can I confess something?” She whispers to him. He steps closer, tilting his head down. “I’m not ready yet.”

Rocket leans closer. “If you want to know my opinion. I think you got this.”

Then he winks as if they’re conspiring. Ana reaches out to gently stroke his ear. Rocket looks shocked at the affectionate gesture, then he relaxes, smiling like he’s proud to make her feel better.

Natasha interrupts their moment. “Ana, Dr. Hammond is on the phone. She’s on the way but wants to talk to you if you can.”

Taking the phone with her doctor relaxes Ana further. Though when she explains the severity of the pain, Dr. Hammond suggests she have a bag ready in case she does have to go to the hospital. The doctor also requests that the AI to monitor her closely and send FRIDAYs system readings be sent to her On-Call phone, just in case.

Through the night, two more odd contractions occur. Although being irregular and far apart though not any less painful, one more call to the doctor has Ana cursing Braxton Hicks contractions. Natasha stays with her the whole time, and Steve lingers by the closed door for far too long.

Sighing, Ana demands sleepily. “Rogers, just come in already, my god.”

Sheepishly, Steve enters the room, and hunkers down at the end of her bed. Ana drifts off into the same world where Bucky is always waiting for her, always barely able to touch her. When she wakes up from the clouds of ash, she slowly turns over. The sight she’s met with makes the tears in her eyes dry up.

Apparently, during the night, everyone made their way into her room. Nebula, Rocket, Carol and Rhodes all sleeping around the bed or propped up against the wall or chair. Smiling, Ana falls back to sleep.

35 Weeks: January 22nd

Over the last three days, Ana has become lethargic. She’s just so tired all the time, despite sleeping for a few solid hours. Maybe the constant trips into that dream world with the little girl and Bucky leave drain her energy more than she ever thought it would. Maybe waking up, never able to save Bucky is taking its toll, and her heart, her soul just aches. She is just so tired.

Though being eight months pregnant and having false contractions probably has something to do with how exhausted she’s been. Ana has yet to tell anyone about her dreams, or how they leave her feeling just as empty as the day it happened. Informing anyone would just lead to more worry, have them doting on her more than they already do.

Steve constantly eyes her, a twitch in his corded muscles as if he is ready to jump into action for her. He thinks he is being covert; he isn’t. Ana can still read and pick up on feelings and energies. Natasha is more inconspicuous about it, rather she just lingers in any room Ana shows up in. Nebula has taken to just drop next to her, pulling out the deck of playing cards, her dark eyes keen if Ana just shifts wrong.

Rocket chats her ear off with stories of him and the Guardians. Most adventures leave Ana clutching her big round stomach in laughter. It’s the most she has laughed in months, and she swears the little raccoon does this because she admitted she was scared to him.

Rhodes has been pulled away for more government and military business, although he calls to check in everyday. Carol keeps offering the last bottle of elixir but when Ana refuses, she just gives her a cup of tea instead. With sneaking suspicion, Ana thinks the tea is laced with the elixir anyway.

As the winter sun begins to set, its light casts an orange glow through the windows, makes the whole area look warm. To Ana, it bares too much a resemblance to her dreams. She turns to head to bed early, leaving the haunting sight of the sunset to paint the interior with its mockery. Ana grabs the mug of tea Danvers left seeping for her, turning her back on the light.

With the twist of her hips, a sharp stabbing pain shoots through her stomach. Ana shouts, dropping the mug, shattering on the floor as she doubles over in pain. This clenched pressure is more severe than the other night, Ana can’t even straighten up. She clutches the counter for balance, panting and gritting her teeth.

 Annie.

 “Ana!?” Someone calls in fear.

Trying to regulate her breathing, the pain slowly eases up. Ana cautiously straightens up, but the second she does, another pain zings through her lower stomach. Her fingers grip the counter so hard, the granite cracks, gives, then crumbles under her vice grip.

Strong arms wrap around her, balancing her the best they can. Ana is vaguely aware she’s being moved, but through the blinding pain, there’s an internal fear of something hurting her baby. The pain, the agony, the hurt; something isn’t right.

“Ba- the -ba-by,” Ana stammers, chest heaving, hands now clutching her stomach. Beneath her palms, she feels the baby writhe. “Fuck! It- it’s hurting.”

“What? What’s hurting the baby?” Someone demands urgently. “Call 911! Or get the jet ready! Anything! Ana. Ana, honey, look at me, can you hear me?”

All she hears is a panicked tone, firm callous hands squeezing her elbows. The baby shifts, curling and twisting in her stomach. Ana wants to reach in and protect her child, their child, from whatever is causing this white-hot agony.

She won’t release her arms from around her stomach, she can’t respond to anyone’s worried calls. She just shuts her eyes, tears stinging before they escape. She’s panting, trying to breathe but the darkness around the searing pain is almost too seductive to resist.

Suddenly, the pain stops. Ana can finally breathe in and out, in and out. Once she can inhale without any more contractions, she can finally speak.

“Something is wrong,” She breathes out, fear clenching around her heart. “It doesn’t feel right.”

“Just continue to breathe like you are,” Natasha urges, her voice shaky. “If you’re able to make it to the quinn jet we can fly you to the hospital.”

Bracing herself on whoever is holding her, Ana grabs at their shoulders slowly standing up. Concerned blue eyes gaze down at her, roaming over her face for any other signs of pain. Steve lifts his hand to her forehead, pressing his knuckles against her skin.

“Shit, you’re burning up. Let’s go, I’ll carry you if you can’t walk.” Steve offers, about ready to do just that.

“No,” She heaves, wincing as a lesser contraction wrecks her. She waits until it eases up. “But-but- these are too close together.” Ana gasps then, looking down at her legs, her pants soaked. “My water just broke.” She whispers, terrified. “Steve, it’s too early.”

The way those blue eyes shift from his own fear to determination soothes her terror just a little. Steve and Natasha volunteer to go with her, though Carol insists she help bring Ana up to the launch pad. As they leave, a concerned Rocket waves, wishing her good luck.

“Have fun,” Nebula pipes up after Ana is nearly out of ear shot.

“Have fun?” Rocket deadpans.

Nebula just shrugs, her hands balled into tight fists.

**

Arriving at the nearest hospital only takes fifteen minutes by jet. By some mercy, Ana doesn’t have another contraction or pain during the flight. Once they get her a wheelchair though, another occurs. People are talking around her as she fights and breaths through the pressured pain entering the hospital.

“Who’s your obstetrician?”

“Uh,” Ana pants, pushing her sweaty hair out of her face. “Dr. Hammond.”

Thankfully, she doesn’t have to continue talking after that, as Dr. Hammond rushes through the doors of the floor they’re on. Grateful for Natasha taking over for filling out the remaining information needed.

“Is anyone coming in with you, Ana?” Dr. Hammond inquires, after speaking with some nurses. She looks between Steve and Natasha. 

The question catches her off guard. “No! No. I-” Ana chokes up, nearly breaking down with grief because Bucky isn’t here. She feels his absence, his death more than ever. “I can do it on my own.”

Those words seem to strike a chord with Steve. He abruptly moves in front of her, bending to her eye level. Fierce protectiveness shining in those blue eyes. Steve grips her hands hard enough for her to know.

“Ana,” He begins lowly, firmly. "You don't have-"

“I’m scared," She admits. Her bottom lip trembles as hot tears finally spill from her eyes. "I’m so scared. It’s too early. What if-“  

Hushing her gently, Steve carefully pushes back her damp hair. “I know, I know you’re scared right now. You can do this. I know you can. You are not alone. I’m with you, Natasha’s with you. We’re right here for you. You don’t have to do this alone if you don’t want to.”

Ana squeezes his hands as another mild contraction rolls through her. She hunches over, listening to Steve instruct her to breathe deeply. When it subsides, she looks up at him through tears.

“How can you be so sure?” She asks breathlessly.

He blinks, taking a second to realize what she means. Then his face softens. “Because you’re you. Because you’re the most determined, stubborn, and strong woman I know. You can do this. Then you get to meet your child after, and that is going to be amazing.”

Ana nods, trying her best to believe him. “Yeah, yeah you're right. I-I wish Pepper were here though.”

“We called her, she’s one her way.” Natasha pipes in, handing back the clipboard to the nurse.

"Nat,” Ana shudders out another deep breath as the baby wiggles around. Suddenly Steve’s words strike her deeper. “Will you stay with me?”

“I won’t leave your side.” Natasha promises fiercely.

Dr. Hammond jumps in then, informing Ana of a drug they’re going to give her to slow the labor, then run some tests. She instructs Natasha of a nurse coming out to bring her sanitary and protective gear for the delivery room when it’s time.

They wheel her towards another set of double doors, and that’s as far as Steve can follow for now. Before they go through, he bends over, placing a kiss on top of Ana’s head.

“You’re strong. You can do this. Everything is going to be fine. I promise.” Steve reminds her fervently.

Annie

A newfound strength enters her body. Ana can’t be certain if it was Steve giving her one last encouragement through her powers, or the voice in her ears.

*

Administering the drug does help slow Ana’s labor down, and thankfully she’s able to get the epidural put in. Steve is allowed to visit once she’s checked into her room and bed. Pepper gets delayed by a mild snowstorm but promises to be there as soon as she can.

Usually giving a drug to delay preterm labor to a soon to be mother works better, if the mother didn’t have a form of super soldier serum in her DNA. The drug wears off just nine hours later, as Ana found out as she awoke with more intense pains. Before she knows it, it’s time.

“Ready?” Dr. Hammond questions as she settles between Ana’s legs.

Frantically Ana shakes her head, scrambling to find Natasha’s hand. Nat grabs her hand with both of hers, leaning close to her head. It’s still too soon. What if something goes wrong? What if her powers act out? Oh god, what if baby doesn’t survive?

Natasha’s soothing voice in her ear encourages Ana as she pats the back of her hand. Listening to her words as the doctor and nurses prepare behind her propped-up feet, begins to calm Ana just a little. She swears she feels Nat’s steady, relaxed energy seep into her.

Instructions to push when necessary are relayed to Ana, but as she screams and shouts through gritted teeth and crushes Natasha’s hand, she has to. When the pushing starts, the lights in the room glow brighter. They begin to flicker, the room fading in and out of darkness. A golden hue shines around Natasha’s hands clasps over Ana’s. Her friend calling her name is slowly fading away, as she begins to fall under water.

Annie

She hears the muffled concerned voice of the doctor; something is wrong with the baby. Ana fights to stay awake. Fights to give her baby a chance because if Ana fades away now, will she take her child with her?

No. She refused to let that happen. Pushing with all her might, she channels what she has of her own energy through her blood, her body, to her child.

Annie

The voice beckons to her again. Over and over; a haunting echo of a lullaby. Ana stops fighting, allows the darkness of a faded loving caress to pull her in. She hears cries fill the room just as her world goes black.

 *

Stillness. Quiet. Serenity.

The absence of sound slowly pulls Ana up from the ground. As she stands there, her mind void of any thought, she stares ahead at the endless horizon. An invisible grip tugs from inside her chest, her feet moving of their own accord. She moves through the glassy sea, ripples spreading out with each step.

Blinking to awareness, Ana is face to face with a dark wooden door.

A small touch wraps around her left hand. Looking down, she sees that same little girl; her beautiful green skin, the markings on her cheeks, her red-brown hair. It’s her big eyes that gaze up at Ana that always reach into her heart. Ana closes her fingers around her little hand.

“Where am I?” Ana inquires, her voice quiet echo.

The child smiles. There’s something sad about it. “I think you know.”

Casting a glance around at the horizon of every way, she nods. “What is your name?”

The girl pauses, but only for a moment. “Gamora.” It’s then she releases her hand and steps back. “You aren’t here for me though. That’s okay. I can wait.”

Perplexed, Ana asks, “What do you mean?”

Without answering, Gamora holds her arm out to the door in front of them. Ana shifts her eyes to the door, and what awaits on the other side. When she looks to the little girl once more for guidance, Gamora is gone. She doesn’t ponder where she could have vanished to. Ana places her hands on the door, and pushes.

Warmth blooms from her chest, as if her soul ignites within. Her heart fills with hope, with love, and with terror. Ana has been met with this same sight before. Has felt these same feelings race through her veins every time she sleeps.

Bucky stands before her. Same ocean blue eyes, same soft expression, same little smile on his lips. He takes a step forward, lifting his right hand. Ana bites her lip, dreading for when they make contact, he will crumble into ash like always.

“Hi Annie,” Bucky speaks. His voice seeping into her bones.

Despite the inevitable pounding through her chest, Ana brings her own hand up. Slowly, she reaches for him, the warmth of his hand erases any fear. Bucky intertwines their fingers together, his smile widening. Ana moves closer, squeezing his knuckles. When Bucky remains solid and firm in front of her, tears fill her eyes.

“Bucky.” His name leaves her lips on a sob.

Her husband gently cups her cheek with his left hand, the cold of his metal palm sending goosebumps all over her skin. Ana presses her lips to his hand, holding onto to this moment for as long as she can. Bucky pulls his hand from hers, only to wrap his arm around her waist, tugging her to his chest. Ana grips him tight around his back, resting her ear directly over his heart that she can hear pounding in his chest.

“Are you real?” She murmurs, tears falling down her cheeks.

His soft chuckle rumbles through his chest. He leans back, delicately cups her cheek to pick her head up. Bucky connects their foreheads, eyes gazing affectionately into hers. His vibranium thumb sweeps along her cheekbone, wiping away her tears.

“I’ve always been real in your dreams, darling.”

Ana lifts her hand from his back to brush her fingers through his soft hair. “Is that what this is then? Just a dream?”

"Not exactly.” He laments with a sigh. Ana leans back, and the happiness in those beautiful eyes of his fade away. “I fear you may be here permanently if you don’t leave soon.”

“But I- I just got you back,” Ana frowns, shifting her hand from his thick hair to his cheek. The soft scruff of his beard tickles her palm. Bucky turns his head, kissing her palm. Her heat sinks then. “This isn’t real.”

Sadly, Bucky shakes his head. “This isn’t your world. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be selfish and just hold you a bit longer.”

Ana fully throws her arms around him in a vice grip, foolishly thinking if she can hold him tight enough, he can stay buried in her soul forever. His returning hug is just as hard, the pain from his grip just confusing her more. They move at the same time, finding each other’s mouth and placing a firm, desperate kiss to their lips.

“I need you to go back now, love,” Bucky gently urges, after he breaks their kiss.

“I don’t want to,” Ana cries, now clutching at his chest. “I need you.”

Bucky’s eyes suddenly fill with tears, falling over the edge and down his cheeks. For the first time Ana has ever entered this dream world, Bucky has never cried. She delicately wipes the wetness from his beautiful face. His smile breaks her heart.

“Someone else needs you now, Ana.” He tells her. Bucky kisses her forehead. “It’s time to go.”

Her chest tightens then, as if her soul is losing him all over again. Nodding as tears continue to fall, Ana wraps him up in her arms one last time, holding onto his warmth. She presses her right hand firmly over his chest, memorizing the rhythm of his heartbeat.

“I love you, Bucky. James, I-I love you so much,” Ana sobs.

Bucky runs his fingers through her hair, bringing the strands up to his mouth, before letting the hair fall back into place. “You’re my heart and soul, Ana. I love you.” He gently kisses her lips. When he pulls back once more, his blue eyes shine with pride. “She’s beautiful, by the way. Take care of her, Annie.”

“She?” Ana frowns, confused.

He places his hands on her chest. “Wake up.”

Then, Bucky fades into dust.

 *

Ana gasps.

"We got a pulse!” Someone shouts.

Ana blinks up at too bright lights, dazed, confused, abruptly cold. The commotion around her fades into the background as she slowly becomes aware of her surroundings. Her fingers scratch against stiff cotton, her damp skin making them feel too sensitive against her hands.

A dull pressure releases from her lower half, from her stomach perhaps? Her back? Her hips? Nope, it’s definitely soreness between her legs. She’s cold and sweaty, can now feel her hair sticking to her face. Her chest is heaving, her arms lifting as to reach for something.

“I don’t understand, her vitals stabilized quickly. They’re all normal, doctor.”

The minute the words break through the muffled barrier of whatever ocean she was under, is the minute she hears the crying. In a rush of sensory overload, everything crashes back to her.

Her baby. Ana just gave birth.

“Mrs. Barnes? Ana, can you hear me?” Dr. Hammond’s voice is speaking to her right.

Nodding frantically, Ana answers her hoarsely. “Y-yes. I’m fine. I-where’s my baby?”

Still a little unfocused, she misses when the nurses double check her vitals, and then, the wails of an infant come closer. Someone questions if it’s a good idea, doubts the steady condition she seems to be in. Whoever it was is shot down though, as blonde and red hair come into Ana’s vision.

“Thank, god,” Natasha breathes, her shoulder sagging. “You scared us.” She shakes her head, then smiles. “Would you like to meet your daughter now?”

Carefully, Natasha hands over a little bundle of a blanket, laying Ana’s baby on her chest. Hands works to gently tug down her gown and unwrap the blanket. It’s that first skin to skin contact, that first feel of her baby girl’s beating heart against her mother’s, that breaks Ana.

Ana cries, sobs, as she delicately holds her daughter against her chest. For the first time in a long time, her soul pulses with warmth.

 ***********************************************************

Drabbles: Twenty-Three     Drabbles: Twenty-Five

(Note: Ana’s labor/birth is loosely based off of my sister-in-laws experience.)

Tags:  @thecreatiivecorner​​​ @buckyland​​​ @stressedasalways​​​ @watchoutforfrostbite​​​ @justreadingfics​​​ @keldachick​​​ @eurynome827​​​ @elatedmarvel​​​ @shesalatesh​​​ @paintedgreywriting​​​ ​​ @buckaroo-blue​​ @afewmarvelousthoughts​​ @crushedbyhyperbole​​ @shesalatesh​ @jaxthebookworm​

[fanfic-scribbles]

Sweet As

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: Natasha didn’t know she would like soft things but SHIELD surprises her in a number of ways– this time, with you.

Quick facts: Romance – Natasha Romanoff/Reader – female!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Reader is a softie, Natasha is a softie at heart, Christmas fic, references to baking/candy making (I’m hungry), set pre-Avengers

Words: 2218

A/N: Friendly reminder that I occasionally glance at canon and then tend to throw it out the window, so sorry if characterizations don’t match. I’m keeping the “MCU Captain America/Avengers” for fandom because it’s in that universe but in my head this is set in a nebulous time where Natasha has been working for SHIELD for a little while but she’s still a little wary/kinda feral. But she’s still the Natasha in my head and I Love Her. This thing went places I didn’t expect but I am very pleased I finished it before Christmas (￣ω￣) Happy whatever you celebrate, even if all you celebrate is ‘having a good Wednesday.’ I hope tomorrow is most excellent. /hugs

   ~

  “So what are you angling for?”

Natasha barely looks askance at Clint, still sour on how he handled that truck during the mission, but he just nods in your direction and Natasha turns her head back to where she was already looking before Clint’s nonsensical question. You’re bobbing your head to Christmas music and typing away at the front desk of this field office that few other agents like to be stuck at– except around Christmas. She doesn’t get it. It isn’t that far from headquarters, and as far as receptionists go you’re much better at your job year-round than anyone in DC. And she does like talking to you. You’re nothing like she would expect from SHIELD, and while Natasha is fine with curt and formal, sometimes she likes being welcomed. You scratch that itch.

“It’s holiday baking season,” Clint says and leans in closer, but not too close to make Natasha uncomfortable. She might forgive his terrible driving someday. “So what were you trying to sweet-talk her into making?”

“I wasn’t trying to ‘sweet-talk’ anything. I was making polite conversation with someone who doesn’t crash cars into houses.”

“Aw, you can tell me. Come on, what’s your favorite?”

Natasha bristles. You’re completely oblivious to all of this, now too far away to hear the quiet conversation while you fiddle with something at a table on the other side of the room, and the guard in the corner looks bored. Good, because it’s going to be one of those conversations with Clint, she can feel it, and she’s just too tired; she just wants to get chewed out by Fury already and be officially done with this mission.

Clint leans back, resting his head in his hands. “I hope she makes the peppermint bark again; that was so good.”

Natasha’s stomach grumbles. She sighs.

“Ooo, were you here for the Ooey Gooey Holiday Bars? And the Santa Snack Mix. But you seem like you’d be into the classics. Were you trying for the sugar cookies?”

“I wasn’t trying for anything.”

“That smile you gave her totally betrayed you. Is it the homemade eggnog? Oh, but you like chocolate! Fudge maybe? But which kind?”

Natasha may not be a native speaker, but she’s damn good at a variety of languages and she always knows when she’s being made fun of. It rankles. Thankfully sometimes Clint has some self-preservation. “I’m sorry Nat,” he says and scoots away a little. “I was just trying to figure out what we might get next; that’s all.”

Natasha sits primly. “You’ll have to ask her.”

Indeed, the next moment you come over, bearing steaming hot mugs of sweetly-smelling chocolate. “I’m sorry about the wait,” you say. “I’m sure you’ll be seen very soon. In the meantime I hope this keeps you warm.”

Natasha doesn’t know what you’re on about– it is incredibly warm in this office, especially with your own body heat so close to add to the mix– but she takes the cup with a polite “thank you.”

Someone has to be polite, since Clint takes a gulp and then lets out a wholly inappropriate moan. “Is this the homemade stuff?”

“Straight from the Tupperware,” you say proudly. “I hope it’s good; if it isn’t I do have some powdered mix.”

Clint gives you such a severe look that actually shocks Natasha– she’s never seen it before– but your laugh puts her back at ease. “Well, hopefully it helps; I heard you guys had a rough ride in.” You look at Natasha and bite your lip nervously. “Do you like it?”

“It’s very good,” Natasha says and takes a sip. It’s hot, creamy, and does indeed do wonders for the urge to flip Clint into a wall.

You smile wide and you lean in close to whisper, “I gave you extra marshmallows.” Then you wink and go right back to your desk. You trip just before you make it into your chair but you slip into it and start typing again like nothing happened. Natasha smiles into her cup.

Clint is uncharacteristically silent for several seconds before he says, “Is my hearing aid still fritzing or did she give you extra marshmallows?”

Natasha’s smile curls into something even better.

~

“I think she likes you.”

The sparring session is over and Clint is lying on his back, breathing heavily. Their dressing-down hadn’t been as bad as Natasha had thought it would be, but the end of it had left them both still a little wired and so they had come to the gym to burn off the lingering anxiety.

Natasha is looking forward to crawling into bed soon, but Clint is looking at her expectantly. She eyes him warily as she sips her water, but the nonsensical statement is not followed by anything resembling an intent to attack. Once she’s had enough time to think, she pulls the bottle from her lips. “Who?”

“You know.” Clint raises his eyebrows and says your name. “No one, and I mean no one, ever gets extra marshmallows.”

Natasha rolls her eyes and Clint springboards to his feet. “No, really!” he insists and sits down on the bench with his own water bottle, practically choking on half the contents before he says, “Christmas treats are serious business around here and she always makes sure everything is ridiculously fair.”

“Stop being an idiot,” Natasha says, in vain.

“I’m not– oh, hey Bobbi!” Clint says and waves.

Agent Morse sees him and turns from her path to the locker rooms to approach them, a workout bag slung over her shoulder. “Barton. Romanoff.”

“Did you get some of that hot chocolate?” Clint asks.

“Of course. I think this was the best batch yet.” Bobbi’s eyes glaze over for a moment and then she snaps back to the professional Natasha is used to. “You’re lucky you got any; she had to defend your share with her life.”

“Some of us are luckier than others,” Clint says. “Natasha got extra marshmallows.”

Bobbi scoffs, but she looks between the two of them and her expression pinches into something overly sincere. “Are you serious?”

“Morse!” Hill calls out as she strides in, making all three of them flinch. “Why aren’t you changed?”

“Romanoff got extra marshmallows.”

Hill’s simmering displeasure dissipates and she whips her head to stare at Natasha. “Seriously?”

“They’re marshmallows,” Natasha says, wondering what is in the air and if she can avoid catching it.

“They’re handmade,” Clint says. “I’m not joking when I say holiday sweets are Serious Business around here. Didn’t you wonder why Fury is stationed here for the next month?”

Natasha throws her hands up, snatches her bag, and turns on her heel. “I’m going to bed; goodnight.”

When she’s almost out the front door, you’re cleaning up your station. “Goodnight Agent Romanoff!” you say.

Natasha…isn’t as annoyed anymore, so she turns and smiles at you. “Good night.”

Sure, you look a little…flustered…but Natasha assumes she still looks ragged from her workout and chalks it up to that.

~

But it doesn’t stop.

When she’s next making small talk with you and you give her a small bag of chocolates and Clint gives her a ‘knowing’ look, she wants to kick something.

When Agent May stops in and sees Natasha’s ‘stocking’ on the wall with everyone else’s, and then looks Natasha up and down before sharing a look with Morse and Hill, Natasha wants to strangle someone.

When Fury sees Natasha hastily stuffing another small cellophane-wrapped treat into her bag and then wordlessly hands Natasha a pamphlet on SHIELD’s workplace romance policy before turning and walking away, she wants to yell.

When you hand her a mug of hot chocolate with one large heart-shaped marshmallow floating on top, she…

…she doesn’t know what she wants to do.

~

Natasha is killing time on a punching bag, waiting for word from medical, when someone enters the room. She stills, tense and ready for whatever she’s going to get from Fury or Hill, but the footsteps are uneven and hesitant.

Natasha turns and watches you as you carefully walk across the mats. Natasha doesn’t know what she’s going to say– this is not the right time for this conversation– but apparently it doesn’t matter how unprepared and out of sorts she is because you’re leaning in and–

“So, um, don’t tell Fury, but Morales is going to text you when Clint is out of surgery and you’ll have ten minutes to run over and see him.”

Natasha blinks and stares as you pull back, fidgeting with your hands again. No amount of sweet-talking or threatening had done her any good, so… “How?”

You look elsewhere when you say, “I promised him a tray of something he really, really likes,” but you look at her resolutely when you add, “But I’m sworn to secrecy so don’t even ask.”

Even Coulson had lightly made fun of how Morales had lusted after the pan of butterscotch-something-or-other bars, so she can guess. However. “Why?” Natasha asks. “Why are you hel– why are you so interested in me?”

You look surprised for a brief moment. And then you shrug. Natasha had not expected that, but she listens when you start speaking. “You laugh at my dumb puns and you made a “Terminator” joke that made Agent May threaten to kill you and you fixed my computer better than IT ever could. You’re smart and brave and strong and, yes, pretty, and I like you and I want to know you better.”

“I’m a killer,” Natasha reminds you.

“This is SHIELD,” you remind her. “I wish I couldn’t say so, but everyone here is at least a little twisted and broken.” You shrug again. “It’s one of the reasons I started bringing in goodies at Christmas, actually. If you don’t have anyone or get stuck at work for a long time this can be a strange and lonely time of year, even if you don’t celebrate.” You squint. “Maybe even especially if you don’t.”

You look at her again, a strange mix of confident and uncertain. “I like you, and even if you don’t like me like that it’s okay and I’d still like to know you better. If…if you’re comfortable with that.”

Natasha has been up for almost 26 hours straight now and has spent five of those hours escaping a compound full of armed enemies. “I’ll have to think about it.”

You nod and step back. “Oh– and for the record,” you say. “Clint has always been very nice to me and I think he’d like to know you visited. Just…full disclosure.”

Natasha nods, but the second she moves her head is the second her phone buzzes in her pocket. You jump back and Natasha turns towards the door, already plotting the fastest path to medical, but she takes one step and then swings back over to you– and presses a gentle kiss to your cheek.

“Thank you,” Natasha says, takes one glance at your bewildered, dreamy expression, and then strides out of the gym, now with a plan and steadily growing sense of peace. After she checks on Clint, she’s going to go home. She would go to sleep right away but…well, the pamphlet Fury gave her is still on her desk, and she has some reading to do before bed.

~

A few days later Natasha walks into the office during the dead time in the afternoon, when the guard is switching and on the outside of your reception area. You scramble to cover up your phone at the clicking of her heels, but when you see it’s just her you exhale deeply and smile.

Natasha smiles back, and walks over to drop the workplace romance policy on your desk. You go still and Natasha says, “I think, if we’re going to discuss this, then you should probably read this first.”

The way you hunch over the desk is a tell that she finds almost delightful. “I already, uh…I already…”

“You already read it.” Natasha leans over your desk and lowers her face conspiratorially. “That’s a little presumptuous, isn’t it?”

Anyone else might stammer, but you laugh. “I just like to be prepared,” you say and prop your chin in your hand.

“I can respect that,” Natasha says solemnly. “Have you thought about where you’re going to take me to dinner?”

Your eyes go wide. “Yes!”

“Good,” Natasha says and grabs your phone to put in her number. “Text me the address and we’ll meet there at seven. I have a job to do but I shouldn’t be late.”

“Okay. Okay! Seven, I will–” You clear your throat and compose yourself. “I’ll see you at seven. Nothing too fancy by the way, just kind of nice, and– oh, this is going to sound so stupid, but, uh you don’t– you don’t have any food allergies, do you?”

Natasha suppresses a laugh. “No, I don’t.” She leans back in closer to you. “I do have one request though.”

Your eyes are wide again as you wait for her to speak. Natasha reaches for your face and sweeps her fingers across your cheek. “Make sure it has good dessert,” she says and lightly tucks your chin. She smiles, and it feels nice. It feels real. “I’m in the mood for something sweet.”

[valkyrieofsmut]

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

@valkyrieofsmut‘s Bucky Barnes Masterlist!

My Masterlist is one of the first things I posted, and now it’s too far away to update! So here’s some more Bucky!          More Smut

Series

Never got over you (Complete!)

(Y/n), a physical trainer at the gym she worked so hard to lose her extra weight at after high school, and Bucky, a veteran sent home after losing his arm, are put in an uncomfortable situation; they are now housemates. Problem 1: they don’t like each other. Problem 2: the sexual tension between them keeps building. Problem 3: things keep pushing them together when they try to stay apart. Problem 4: they keep fantasizing about each other in ways that are definitely not helping the sexual tension. Problem 5: they’re not sure what it is, yet, but it’s sure to be as bad as the others.

Love, recorded (Posting in progress)

Ellie and Bucky have been friends for forever, they hang out together, work through the same temp agency, and live together, too! Everything is great, until they can’t pay rent. Now they’ll be homeless together, too. Bucky knows it’s not fair to ask Ellie to become a cam girl, performing erotic acts for money, to pay the rent, but they may have no other option. Hopefully they’ll be able to make rent before feelings for their best friend tears their relationship apart.  

I think I want to marry you (In processing)

CollegeAU. Bucky and (Y/n) get a little close while studying for finals. Tests are over and they celebrate the tried and true college way; alcohol. But in Las Vegas you can get into all sorts of trouble while drunk. After graduation, Bucky, who has spent all of college in ROTC, is shipped out, and (Y/n) finds a man she wants to marry. Problem? She finds out she’s already married, and Bucky doesn’t want to sign any divorce papers. He doesn’t like her fiance, either.

Falling for a surrogate (In processing)

ModernAU. Nat and Clint want to have a baby, but she can’t conceive due to a past injury. A friend of Nat’s makes a living as a surrogate for couples who can’t conceive and offers to help in exchange for a place to stay. Bucky meets her and finds that her growing body is something he wants, and not just for the short term.

One shots

Weak

Bucky always has to keep tight control over himself, staying strong when the hardiest man would give up, but (Y/n) broke through his walls without his permission. Will he be able to handle it if he’s not in control?

The girl from the cafe 100 follower celebration

After living through all he has, Bucky is a bit shy. Steve wants to help him out of his shell and decides to use his crush on the girl in the cafe of the tower as the way, and a party Tony is throwing as the place.

Best failed prank ever @gaybybirth's 10k celebration

(Y/n) has had a crush on Bucky since he came to the tower a while ago, but he’s a cocky playboy who likes to tease her. She has had enough and decides to get back at him with an attempted prank that goes wonderfully wrong.

How I see you   @omnomsauruswrites 200 followers celebration

(Y/n) is feeling really down, and after a terrible date, Bucky wants to make her feel better, but can he convince her that he thinks she’s beautiful? You can bet he’s about to do his damnedest!

Count ‘em for me   @propertyofpoeandbucky’s mystery writing challenge

(Y/n) and Bucky have unresolved sexual tension. She gets mouthy on a mission and Bucky decides to teach her a lesson, but she never dreamed she’d like the punishment this much, and neither did he… But he knows how to handle it. Counting to ten should be easy, but with Bucky overseeing you, it’s one of the hardest things ever… One of them.

The truth about the dare  Tagged by @tephi101 in truth or dare game

Friday night- game night! Tony is an ass, everyone knows that, but when Bucky practically runs away from a dare for (Y/n) to give him a lapdance, -for the second time!- she starts thinking it has something to do with her, but Bucky wants her to believe that that’s not the case, so (Y/n) gives him a dare to prove it.

Salvator  (The only not smut so far)

Bucky finds a half dead kitten on a mission an brings it home, Dawn helping him nurse it back to life and keep it hidden from Tony. Over time, he has started coming out of his shell, and realizes some feelings that he didn’t know he had. So, did he save the kitten, or did the kitten save him?

Bucky’s cookies @devilbat‘s Christmas challenge

Bucky misses some things about his past; his mother’s gingerbread cookies are one of the things that always had happy memories associated with them. He can’t recreate them, but it does lead to an opportunity to create more happy memories.

Be good for Sarge, Kitten 

Bucky wants to give (Y/n) a wonderful night. This is really… mostly something I wrote for me because it’s a so called “special day”.

Let me keep you warm (working title, in processing)

Ok, so this was just messages that I read, and was inspired... In processing...

More Smut

[an-unknown-writers-world]

Thanksgiving

A/N: It’s a few days early for Thanksgiving, so enjoy it early. 😊

Warnings: Angst, terrible writing as usual

Word Count: 1776

Paring: Bucky Barnes X Reader

-----------------------------------------------

“I don’t know why you’re dragging me to this.” You said pulling on your high heels.

“You mean dragging you down five floors to the common meeting room of our building?” Natasha replied with a smile.

You rolled your eyes, “There better be alcohol.”

“It’s a Stark party, there will be barrels of it.”

You stood up and smoothed your dress down.

“Barnes will be there too.”

“Oh,” You replied trying to hide your enthusiasm. “I didn’t realize he was back from Wakanda.”

“Just for the holidays, depending on how things go.”

You nodded, smiling to yourself.

The two of you made your way through the sitting room of your floor towards the elevator. Stark tower was just starting to feel like home to you, the only thing that could make it better would be Bucky coming to stay permanently. The two of you had interacted a lot over the last several years, after the accords you stayed in Wakanda helping Shuri with everything you could, sort of an Avengers Liaison since Steve couldn’t always be there. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t fallen head of heels for him in all that time.

“Safe to assume that means Steve’s home now too?” You asked as the elevator door closed.

“Who do you think insisted on bringing Bucky home for Christmas?” She smiled.

“I’ll be sure to sleep with earplugs in.” You laughed.

Natasha smiled back, “I may need to be the one with them.”

“Geeze, Nat. Come on, nothing’s changed.”

“We’ll see.”

The doors opened, the party in full swing, music playing and people chatting away. You could tell it was a holiday party with all the decorations and the amazing smelling food. The small hope of it being a modest amount of people was shattered, there had to be at least a hundred people here, most of them you didn’t know. Looking around the room you spotted the handful that you did know, a smile broke across your face that you couldn’t control as your feet propelled you forward.

You saw Steve nudge Bucky when they both turned to smile at you. Natasha flew right past you straight into Steve’s arms.

“(Y/N),” Bucky smiled.

“Hey Buck,” You smiled back.

Neither of you are particularly touchy people unless it was with each other. He opened his arms and you stepped into his embrace; he pulled you in tight, his scent was intoxicating even more so since it’d been so long since you were around him. This was your favorite place in the world, safe in his arms, a perfect balance between warm and cold, flesh and metal.

“I missed you,” He said softly into your hair.

“Me too, Buck.” You said resting your head against his chest.

A microphone squealed in the distance taking your attention from the man in your grasp. You tried to listen to the speech Tony so elegantly gave about the importance of family and friends during the holiday season, but you failed. The hand still resting on your lower back was distracting, you had turned away from him to look at Tony, but Bucky only adjusted his grasp on you. You racked your brain trying to recall if you remembered things differently. The last time the two of you were together you were close, but not this close; you certainly weren’t objecting but you’re a little taken aback by this Bucky.

“Come on,” Natasha said grabbing your hand. “Let’s go eat.”

You walked hand in hand with her to the dining room while Bucky and Steve straggled behind. You leaned into her to whisper-soft enough the men couldn’t hear.

“Did something happen to Bucky in Wakanda?”

“No,” Natasha replied with a questioning tone, “why?”

“He seems, I don’t know,” You paused.

“Spit it out,” She squeezed your hand.

“He’s different, more affectionate I guess.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all.” You replied.

“Then don’t question it.” She smiled.

You knew she was right, maybe the time apart made Bucky think as much as it had you. It wasn’t until you were back on the jet and halfway across the Atlantic that you realize how you felt about him. The four of you went through the buffet line before finding a quiet table in the corner from everyone.

“How’s it feel to be back in New York?” Natasha asked as we ate.

“Good,” He turned to smile at you, “really good.”

“I bet the cold weather makes it feel a little bit more like the holiday season.” You spoke.

“It had cooled down in Wakanda, but it was still a little too sunny to feel like November.”

“Shuri says hello, by the way,” Steve spoke.

Conversation flowed freely between the four of you throughout the meal, it was pleasant and made you miss the careless nights from Wakanda. You’d been so lost in memories that you picked up an empty glass to drink.

“Oh,” You mumbled.

The table laughed,

“I think you need a refill their babe,” Natasha said with a grin.

You glowered at her.

“How about we go get a drink and then maybe a dance?” Bucky asked.

You nodded with a smile as you slid out of your chair.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Natasha called out as you walked arm in arm with Bucky.

He carefully led you through the sea of people until you made it to the bar. You were quickly handed your usual drink and Bucky was handed an odd looking glass; you assumed were only for the super soldiers and god’s on the premises. You went to lean against a high table, Bucky leaning against the opposite side.

“I’m glad you’re home.” You said breaking the silence.

“You’re not mad that I didn’t call?” He asked.

You shook your head, “Why would you call to tell me you were coming?” You said before taking a drink from your glass, thankful for the burn of whiskey to keep your face straight.

He studied your expression, “I meant,” he sighed, “I thought this would be easier.”

A moment of silence passed.

“Are you staying in the guest room on our floor while you’re here?” You asked.

He nodded, “Yeah, Steve thought that’d be the best place.”

You smiled, “I agree with him. Though, you’ll probably want earplugs tonight.”

He laughed, “That bad, huh?”

“Only when they’ve been apart for a few weeks.” You finished your glass.

Bucky finished his drink when the music changed to a softer, slower song. It was a melody you recognized but couldn’t pin what it was.

He held his hand out, “May I have this dance?”

You smiled at him, “Bucky, I’m a terrible dancer.” You were honest but took his hand anyway.

“I’ll lead,” He smiled back.

There was not a single couple dancing on the floor which left you to feel a little bit awkward. He held your hand up with his flesh one and his metal arm laid across your lower back pulling you close to him. He was slow to start with you, smiling along as you got each step right. A few other people joined on the floor, Steve and Nat, and Tony and Pepper. You should have suspected Tony would join; he couldn’t handle being upstaged by Bucky.

“See,” He said breaking your concentration, “It’s not so bad.”

“Only because I have a good partner.” You smiled back.

The song continued on and you found yourself dreading its end. Internally you were damning yourself, this wasn’t okay. Bucky will leave after the holidays; he’ll go back to Wakanda and you’ll be alone. You found the argument continuing, you’d rather embrace your feelings now and enjoy them than regret never telling him.

“Thank you,” You said softly.

Bucky looked down at you with a smile, “Thank you for saying yes.”

You smiled back at him, “Not for this Buck, well I guess for this and for coming home. Even if it is just for a few weeks.”

“It could be longer,” He replied.

The songs fizzled to an end but neither of you moved to break apart.

“I could stay,” He repeated. “Only if you wanted though, I don’t want to be a burden or anything.”

You smiled, there were no words for what you wanted to say. Of course, you wanted him to stay, you didn’t want leave him to begin with. Standing there you thought of all the things you should say or explain, the hundreds of questions that ran through your mind.

“Doll?”

You blinked a few times realizing you hadn’t said anything. The look on his face broke your heart, worry written all over it. Without any hesitation, you stepped closer and tiptoed up to gentle place your lips on his. He froze for a second under the contact, for the slightest of moments you were afraid you had read the whole situation wrong. Then you felt it, his arms wrapped around you pulling you so tight that your feet were off the ground and your bodies melded together.

It felt like the world froze, nothing else existed outside of the small space you shared. The same breath sustaining you both. He carefully set you back on your feet without breaking contact, his flesh hand coming to rest on the back of your neck.

“I told you,” Natasha said breaking the silence.

Steve sighed, “I guess you were right.”

You and Bucky split apart, foreheads resting against each other still trying to shut your two best friends out.

“Goodnight love birds, we’ll have our earplugs in,” Nat said as they walked away.

Both of you laughed softly.

“Should I take that as an okay to stay?” Bucky asked.

You smiled at him, “Yes, but I’m happy to tell you again.”

He slid his thumb across your bottom lip as he looked down at you. If you had known that kissing him would feel that amazing, that right, you never would have waited. Bucky kissed your forehead, then the tip of your nose before pulling back to look at you again with the world’s most breath-taking smile.

“I can’t remember the last time I celebrated Thanksgiving,” Bucky stated. “But I know for certain that I’ve never had as much to be thankful for as I do this year.”

You blushed under his gaze as you wrapped your hands around the back of his neck. “That goes both ways.” You reminded him.

With his arm carefully supporting your weight he dipped you in the most elegant way possible, a way only a man out of time could do. He smiled at you again before capturing your lips in his.

----------------------

Thanks for reading! If you liked it you can find more here. Also, be on the lookout! Starting December 1st I’ll be participating in 25 Days of Christmas.  

[risualto]

For all detectives and routes, question 15 about Rebecca, and then 1 and 10 from the Best Friend Questions, please!

Ooh, this is fun.  Alright!  I’ll do my best.  Hm, how to organize these...

As a side note, both Phi and Theo are co-created with @lumeha.  While Phi and Theo are about 50% of each of us in each character, Elex is 100% me, and Ash’s detective, Alex (we know the names are similar; we did not do it on purpose) is 100% them.  So, Ash, feel free to chime in on any of these answers if you like!  I’ll edit the post later.

Elex (+ Felix, UB is Ava, Nat, Felix, Mason)

F15.  What is your detective’s relationship with Rebecca like? If they saw the conversation that she has with F before the end of Book 2, what would they think? So, this answer got really long.  I’m putting the full version under the readmore at the bottom, but the short version is:

tl;dr Elex’s relationship with Rebecca is complicated, and if they overheard that conversation at the end of Book 2, it may have caused that relationship to fracture as well as Elex’s relationship with Felix while Elex struggled to process the fact that in a situation where they could only please one person they love, they would have to rely on their own feelings alone as a guide.

FR1. Who is your detective’s best friend in the Unit? Why do you think that is? Elex’s best friend is Nat.  I’ve talked a little bit about this before, but Nat is the only person on the team besides Felix who doesn’t majorly set off Elex’s anxiety.  Elex feels like they’re not really ever going to be able to live up to Ava’s standards, and that nothing they do will really make Mason happy, which is extremely stressful for them because they care far too much about what people think of them.

But Nat understands Elex’s brains over brawn approach to problems, is empathetic, and generally responds positively to their successes and way of thinking, and Elex really appreciates that.  They sort of see her as like a (much) older sister figure, but they haven’t quite figured that out or said anything yet.

FR10. What are some seasonal activities (was going to say Christmas/winter since that’s the closest when I’m writing this, but really, any time of the year works) your detective would want to do with the team? Well, it is getting close to the holidays now, so I suppose I can answer for wintery things.  Elex doesn’t really do a lot with Christmas because they’ve been on their own for so long and aren’t super religious despite being (loosely) raised as a Christian.  They also don’t like the capitalist aspect of the holiday.  Given where they grew up, I don’t see them as having been exposed to that many other winter holidays, so...

I think Elex would really like to celebrate the New Year with Unit Bravo.  I don’t think they’d have the courage to say so, but if they could get together and make warm drinks and listen to music and make resolutions with UB on New Year’s Eve, I think that would be really special to them.

Phi (+ Ava, UB is all female)

A15.  What is your detective’s relationship with Rebecca like? If they saw the conversation that she has with A before the end of Book 2, what would they think? Phi’s relationship with her mom is pleasant.  I think that’s the best way to put it.  She understands, now that she knows more about the Agency and what her mother does, why the two of them were so distant after Rook’s passing.  She kind of has a vague idea of the fact that Rebecca never meant to be a mother, exactly, and doesn’t know what she’s doing but is still trying her best.  I think Phi is mostly sad that it took them so long to truly start to get to know each other, but she’s hopeful for the future.

If she saw Rebecca’s conversation with Ava at the end of Book 2, she would be confused and a little disheartened, but not all that surprised.  Phi is aware that there is some kind of attraction between herself and Ava, but as far as she knows, it’s just physical tension that’s reciprocated.  So hearing Ava deny, without hesitation, that her mother has “something to worry about” would only make her feel that her own feelings aren’t worth pursuing and that she should just be happy that Ava feels she’s part of the team now.

She would think it’s cute that Ava reminded her mom to verbally appreciate her more, though.

FR1. Who is your detective’s best friend in the Unit? Why do you think that is? Morgan.  I know, sounds weird; I kind of thought it was going to be Nat.  But Phi took one look at this grumpy woman and decided she was going to be Morgan’s friend no matter what.  She has a lot of respect for Morgan, but Phi thinks that she could really use a friend outside of the original UB team.  And also, she’s seen Morgan’s friendship with Farah and knows that Morgan can be incredibly fun and witty and kind if it comes to it.

FR10. What are some seasonal activities (was going to say Christmas/winter since that’s the closest when I’m writing this, but really, any time of the year works) your detective would want to do with the team? Phi would invite them all over to decorate her Christmas tree.  Phi doesn’t really believe in the religious aspects of Christmas, but she was raised in a society that does, so she has a bit of performative faith that she doesn’t quite realize is as shallow as it is.  But she does find genuine joy in decorating her house and trimming the tree, and she would want her new team and friends to be a part of that.  Tina and Verda are probably invited, too, honestly.  She would play music (quietly, though, more so than previous years, so as not to bother Morgan) and serve drinks and help UB help her get her home ready for the holidays.  Even Ava, who would take things far too seriously until Nat teased her into lightening up a bit.

Theo (+ Mason, UB is all male)

M15.  What is your detective’s relationship with Rebecca like? If they saw the conversation that she has with M before the end of Book 2, what would they think? Theo’s relationship with Rebecca is not good.  He definitely resents her for her  failings as a mother during his childhood and doesn’t think that the Agency’s love of secrets is a good excuse.  Things are tense enough between them for it to be a point of bonding between himself and Douglas lmao.  I think they ended Book 2 with an 8% relationship stat.

If Theo had overheard Mason’s conversation with his mom, he would be...pleasantly surprised?  That his mom isn’t trying harder to intervene.  And then he would probably assume it’s because she feels guilty for the past and is now making up for it by trying to be cool.  It probably wouldn’t change much.

He’d be a little smug that he’s messing with Mason’s focus, though.

FR1. Who is your detective’s best friend in the Unit? Why do you think that is? So, Theo’s best friend is actually Adam, despite me kind of originally feeling like it was going to be Felix.  This is because Theo was the last detective I created, and I realized the only best friend route I didn’t have secured was Adam’s, so I shifted my thinking at the last moment.  I think, with these two, it’s kind of going to be an accidental friendship.  Neither of them is 100% sure when they became ride-or-die best friends, but it probably has something to do with wanting to protect the other members of Unit Bravo and being willing to do whatever that takes.  They just look up one day and are like, “Oh, you get it.  We don’t always agree, but I can count on you for this.”

Maybe someday they’ll manage to work through their emotions, too, because they are both Bad at them.

FR10. What are some seasonal activities (was going to say Christmas/winter since that’s the closest when I’m writing this, but really, any time of the year works) your detective would want to do with the team? Theo...doesn’t really do the winter holidays of any kind.  He’s a bit of a grump about the holiday season.  I think, in the summer, though, he’d probably like to go travel with them if they had time.  It might take a few summers as a team before he’d manage to be able to admit this is something he wanted to do, but just going on a trip somewhere that involved a lot of hiking and probably some ruined old places would be fun.  (He’d be very amused to know if any of UB had any stories about the places they’d visit.)

Elex’s relationship stat with Rebecca is pretty high, but honestly, I don’t think the stat is 100% representative of how things truly stand between them.  Honestly, Rebecca’s absence and other events that led to Elex developing abandonment issues have affected Elex more than they are letting themself realize at this point.  I think that, while their relationship with Rebecca is very cordial on the surface, there’s a lot of resentment and insecurity that Elex is burying under politeness and their tendency to follow other people’s social cues rather than use their own feelings.  Elex is so glad that their mother is here and both physically and emotionally present for the first time that they’re not really letting themself realize that their previous relationship was kind of screwed up, and that it really hurt Elex as a child.  

At some point, Elex is going to break and realize this.  Have a moment of, “Don’t you realize how much I needed you?  Why didn’t you try harder?”  I don’t know if I’ll have the opportunity to do this in character during the books since I’ve already built up a “good” relationship with Rebecca, but if I can’t, I’ll definitely write about it.

Honestly, if Elex had witnessed the conversation that Rebecca had with Felix at the end of Book 2, it may have sped the above conversation along a little bit.  Whether Rebecca (and Felix) meant it this way or not, Elex would have seen that conversation not as a chance to prove that their relationship with Felix was solid, but as a point in which they had to choose--continue to be with Felix, making him happy, or end the relationship for their mother’s peace of mind, making her happy.  And I think it might have taken some time, but Elex would have realized that they would not be happy leaving Felix, even to please their mother, which they always want to do.