#bucky barely notices caffeine he just drinks it for the taste | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yikeswtfmate · 4 years ago

Text

Part 1: Ungodly Hours

Of Tinder Dates & Caramel Macchiatos - Series Masterlist // main masterlist // next part

Summary: Y/N had no idea her new work routine would bring a certain handsome bartender to her table where she drinks her coffee every morning. Steve is sweet, although a bit sleep deprived, and Natasha thinks Y/N and him would make the perfect pair. But dating him is out of the question. What happens when, tired of Nat’s bizarre behaviour, Y/N installs Tinder and meets this really cute guy who can read her like an open book?

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader; Thor Odinson x Reader

Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, sexual references and themes

A/N: guess who’s back! back again with a very long Steve series that might be the end of me but that i already love with my whole heart and oh god i am so nervous i really hope you’re gonna like this

Coffee shops in the morning could easily be considered anyone’s personal hell. The sheer amount of people trudging along to get their daily fix of caffeine would normally make Y/N stop in her tracks and take a turn towards the nearest coffee vending machine, even if it tastes worse than crap. At least she doesn’t have to wait for half an hour in line stuck between a very loud lawyer and that one mum who insists on buying the nastiest green smoothie she’s ever seen in her life.

However, coffee shops at 6 in the morning, right about when Peter changes the sign from closed to open, are heaven sent. Sure, the prospect of having to be out and about for work at 6 am is less than ideal, but at least she’s always been more or less a morning person. And her paycheck has been considerably fatter last month.

Y/N takes her usual seat outside, caramel macchiato right next to her laptop. Today should be an easy day - fill out some paperwork before she heads to the office at 8.45, pick up Pepper’s coffee, and sort out whatever has been left of this week. Easy, simple and to the point, although Nat would love to argue that Saturdays are for sleeping in, and not for personally picking up documents from various stakeholders.

“Or better yet, download Tinder and work out your stress with random guys.” Nat had suggested last night on the phone, when Y/N made the mistake of mentioning she hadn’t had any in too many months to count. “There’s this great guy I know…”

“No.” Y/N interrupted, knowing exactly where that would’ve gone. “Every time you tried to set me up with someone, it ended up in disaster. We’re not doing this again, Nat.”

“I just want you to be happy.” She muttered, most definitely being silently admonished by Bucky for trying to interfere in her friend’s life yet again.

“I am happy, sweetheart. Just because I’m not getting any at the moment, that doesn’t mean I’m not happy. Plus, you know what I think -”

“If it’s meant to be, there’s no point in me chasing it, yes.” Nat echoed with a roll of her eyes. “Sometimes your whole attitude of ‘go with the flow’ pisses me off. I say you should go after what you want.”

“Well, there’s nothing, or no one to want at the moment so there’s no point in me getting into a frenzy about it. When the moment’s right, it will happen.”

“Hey!”

The voice cuts right through the middle of her thought, interrupting Nat’s sneered answer of ‘I just hope he won’t be an asshole like your ex’, making Y/N look up from her laptop. There’s a guy standing next to her, one steaming cup of coffee in a hand, uncertain smile on a face ragged by what can only be lack of sleep. He’s tall and broad shouldered, and she can’t place him for a second, before her eyes land on the sleeve tattoo on his right arm.

“Steve?” She asks, just as hesitant.

“Yeah!” He grins, running his free hand through his hair, until there’s a blond mess of it. “Y/N, right? You’re Nat’s friend.”

“Yeah, that’s right. I uh- how are you?”

The whole scene most probably looks ridiculous to the outside eye - her sitting down, craning her neck to look at this monolith of a man, both of them oozing with awkwardness and hesitation. She’s always hated that touch of absurdity in interactions between people who know each other, but are not even acquaintances. Even though her job as an executive assistant requires her to navigate situations just like these, that does not mean it makes it easier for her to know how to do that in her personal life. It’s called balance - be a badass at your job, but you’re left an embarrassing mess when it comes to talking to cute guys that you don’t actually know.

“Just got off my shift. Thought I should grab a coffee and spare myself of falling asleep on the subway again.”

“Oh. You’re still working as a bartender then?” She replies, digging her claws into the faint memory of him running from one end of the bar to the other, barely managing to shake her hand after a brief introduction that one time she agreed to go out with Nat and Bucky.

“Yep. I’m actually part-owner now.” Steve says proudly and she can’t help but grin with him.

“Congratulations!” Y/N claps her hands - what is that, come on, get yourself together. “Hey, do you wanna take a seat and have your coffee? I feel weird sitting while you’re standing.”

“Ah, I shouldn’t. I’ve been up for almost 24 hours now.” He scratches the back of his head, checks his watch and glances at her again in thought. “But I can spare 5 more minutes to finish this. Wouldn’t want to spill it all over me again.”

Y/N smiles and does her best at clearing at least one corner of the table. He takes a seat, and she notices the way his knee brushes softly against hers, and fair enough, the table is small, but this guy is massive and he’s dwarfing everything around him - it’s no wonder they can barely fit together.

“So what are you up to at this ungodly hour of the morning on a Saturday?” He asks after swiftly scanning all the papers and electronics between them.

“Ah, my life is definitely less exciting than yours.” She laughs. “I’m just getting to work.”

“On a Saturday?” His confusion is clear. So is his amusement as he takes a sip of his coffee.

“I see Nat hasn’t been complaining to everyone around her about me. That’s reassuring.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Steve shrugs. “Whenever they come to the bar, I’m usually working. I can barely exchange two words with them.”

“That’s right. I remember her saying something about you needing to get a break.”

“More like a life. I haven’t had a day off in months, I don’t even know what daylight looks like anymore.”

There’s no denying the fact that he looks exhausted - if the dark circles under his eyes wouldn’t be indication enough, it’s easy to read it in the tense set of his shoulders, the way he’s more slumping than sitting in his chair. Y/N is filled with a weird sense of wanting to make this man a cup of tea and order him to go to bed already. His gaze keeps shifting, as if it can’t focus on anything for more than a few seconds, and there’s a slight hint of misery written all over his features that is cleverly hidden by his happy-go-lucky attitude, which seems superficial if analysed closely. Perks of being the best at her job, curse for people who don’t want their business pried into, but then again...they don’t know each other that well, so she keeps her mouth shut. Whatever is bothering him is none of her damn business.

“If it makes you feel any better, I have no idea what nightlife looks like anymore.” She offers.

“We’d make an invincible human being if we were to join forces.” Steve laughs. “I’ll tell you all about teenagers trying to get in with fake IDs, how to get rid of vomit in the toilets and what’s the best way to mix a Long Island and you can tell me all about traffic in the morning, rush hour at lunchtime and what kids are up to when they get off school.”

“Mostly TikTok dances.” Y/N shrugs, which earns her the cutest sleep-deprived laugh she’s ever heard in her life.

“Is that what those are? Oh God, I feel old now.”

She chuckles - it’s cute, he’s cute. In a lost puppy kind of way, but her final verdict is interrupted by her phone vibrating next to her hand. Now, she wouldn’t normally be so rude as to answer a phone in the middle of a conversation, especially when she is focused on the crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he’s grinning at his not-exactly-joke, but PEPPER CALLING is a rude awakening that she is supposed to actually be at work in less than 15 minutes.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I have to get this, it’s my boss.”

“No worries. I should get going anyway. I think I’ve already slipped into sleepwalking anyway.” He stands up and fumbles around for a few seconds - yet another situation that neither of them seems to know how to handle. Are they supposed to shake hands? Hug? Take an imaginary hat off?

So Y/N settles on a smile, which must put him at ease a teensy bit, because he grins back at her - that boyish grin that made her think cute way too many times by this time of the day.

“It was great seeing you, Y/N. Don’t overwork yourself today. It is Saturday after all.”

“Says the one who’s 90% asleep.” Y/N giggles. “Bye, Steve!”

“See you around, sweetheart!”

Nat takes out a bottle of wine, moving around the well-lit kitchen as if she’s lived there her whole entire life, and not only for the past three weeks. Y/N is still mesmerised by the fake brick wall in front of her to pay attention to the glass thrust between her fingers - this apartment is gorgeous. She had no idea Bucky was so good at interior design, which must have been a huge selling point when they’ve decided where to live together. Christ, Y/N would have wanted to move in with him after only 5 months, for this apartment alone. But Nat is frowning - that deep line between her eyebrows leaves nothing to speculation, and Y/N knows her best friend too well not to realise that she is not happy with what she’s hearing.

“Are you going to say anything or should I just assume you’re pissed off?”

“I’m not pissed off.” Nat says, an immediate response that sounds too close to defensiveness to sound like truth. “I’m just- I’m surprised, is all. I mean, it is Steve we’re talking about here after all.”

“That’s exactly why I don’t understand why you’re reacting like this.”

Nat brings her foot up on her stool, and braces her knee while her other hand is playing with the rim of her glass. She’s avoiding eye contact, which is never a good sign when it comes to her, yet Y/N simply can’t put her finger on the reason behind her sudden change in demeanour when she’s told her that she met Steve this morning.

“I just don’t think that Steve would be the right person for you right now.” She finally mutters and there’s a tinge of embarrassment in her tone that Y/N can’t decipher.

“Ok, you’re going to have to explain what the hell is going on because I have no idea what’s with all this hostility. All I did was tell you that I chatted with Steve for half an hour this morning. How did you connect that to me getting into a relationship with him?”

“Because!” Nat groans. “You and Steve would be perfect for each other. Not to mention you’re my best friend and he’s Bucky’s best friend and just that idea alone gives me cavities. I want you to be together!”

“I’ve seriously never been more confused in my entire life.”

“Ok, look, I’m going to be completely honest with you right now.” Nat sighs and she at long last makes eye contact. “It’s not my story to tell, but the gist of it is that Steve’s recently gotten out of a relationship with one of my friends from work. He was completely swept off his feet, even Bucky’s never seen him this infatuated with someone. The problem is that, as much as I love Peggy, she really did a number on him. He’s been a complete wreck ever since and he doesn’t even know that she’s gotten back together with her ex. I’m just saying that he’s not in the right emotional state to get into another relationship right now. And you’re in a complete state at the moment as well.”

“Me?” Y/N squeals, surprised by this sudden change of direction. “What is wrong with me?”

“Honey, you also recently got out of a serious relationship where you were practically married to the guy. I really think you should spend some time alone and focus on yourself, and not guys. Flings, fuck buddies, Tinder, sure, whatever. Do whatever you couldn’t during these past few years, but you’re not ready to jump into another serious relationship again. I love you and I love Steve, but you’d probably destroy each other if you were to get together.”

Y/N waits for a few more seconds in order to make sure Nat’s said her piece. She’s surprised by her friend’s outburst - it was only yesterday that Y/N’s explained to her that she’s not willing to get herself out there just yet and she was rebuffed by promises of friends and possibilities. This mix of encouragement and relentlessness is nothing short of confusing. Especially since Y/N hasn’t even hinted at a potential romance with Steve.

“Ok, first of all, I want you to know that I agree with you. I’m not ready to get into another relationship right now, but I also want you to understand that I’m not going back to jumping into bed with guys I barely know. Look where that got me last time! Second, I didn’t tell you I saw Steve today because I want to be in a relationship with him. We just talked. As friends. Nothing more.”

They look at each other in silence for a few moments, a sense of uneasiness that Y/N’s never felt in the whole time she’s known Nat. There’s something odd about her reaction, but she can’t say what it is exactly. She guesses she can understand her friend’s protectiveness over Steve - after all, she knows all too well how much of a mama bear Nat can be with people she cares about, but isn’t she supposed to care more about what her best friend might want? Even if Y/N doesn’t want Steve, but it’s the principle of it!

“Right.” Nat mutters. “Well, I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Nat, I’m not doing anything. I barely talked once with the guy by accident.”

This is getting ridiculous.

“Just remember that I don’t want to be involved in this.”

“There’s no this to be involved in!”

#steve rogers x reader #thor x reader #thor odinson x reader #series: of tinder dates & caramel macchiatos #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #thor odinson fanfiction #thor odinson fic

35 notes · View notes

etherealwaifgoddess · 4 years ago

Text

The Truth At Last (1981)

*A One In A Million AU fic*

Summary: After 40 years together the truth of Rose's identity comes out at last.

Word Count: 1.7k

Author’s Note: Thank you to the lovely reader who asked about if/ when Rose tells the guys she's actually from the future. I know I gave a mini head canon in my answer but the more I thought about it the more the plot bunnies hopped around and this little fic was born.

The Truth At Last (1981)

“Come on lazy bones, let’s go!” Bucky shouts up the stairs. You place a hand on your husband's arm, settling him in his excitement. Even at the ripe old age of sixty-three, Bucky still gets overly excited at new things like a child. He gives your youngest grandchild a run for her money at times and she’s only four.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Steve grumbles as he descends the stairs to join you in the foyer. He’s fumbling with the buttons of his favorite blue shirt, unable to get the buttons through the holes as quickly as he’d like. His arthritis is flaring up again, it’s been doing that more and more lately.

You push past the pang of sadness at seeing your husband struggle and pull him close when he reaches the bottom of the stairs, “Come here, love. I’ve got it.” you tell him, fixing the buttons of his shirt with quick efficiency.

Steve checks his hair in the mirror by the door; the blonde is shot through with white and silver, though the cut is the same as when you met him. Even at sixty-two he’s quite striking. Bucky and you make sure to remind him of that regularly too. “You look great, Stevie.” Bucky assures him, pressing a quick kiss to the other man’s cheek before you head out the door.

The walk to the new cafe is only four blocks from your old brownstone but the three of you take your time. There’s no need to hurry anymore. Now that you’re all retired, you can spend your days together doing whatever piques your interest at your own pace. Bucky had retired at fifty-five after an accident at the docks; his foot healed quickly but he realized he was getting too old for that type of work. Steve had been doing commissions only since the kids were born, taking jobs here and there as needed. It had helped tremendously when the kids were young. The last two years though, his arthritis had worsened and he’d stopped taking jobs. He claimed he wanted to create for himself while he still could. You were the last to retire, finally giving your notice the year before, and leaving your beloved library after almost forty years of service. You still go in once a week to lead story time for the children but you left the heavy mantle of Library Director behind.

The cafe is a little brick shop with a lavender awning and wide glass windows. It’s cheery looking and definitely fits in with newer shops that have come into the neighborhood in recent years. Bucky holds the door open causing a little bell to chime up above and the scent of coffee hits your nose. It smells like heaven.

Bucky insists on ordering for all three of you, so you and Steve take a table by the window while Bucky hurries over to the counter. You sit quietly looking around, letting a gentle melancholy sink into your bones. You miss the days of setting up shop in a Starbucks to work on your college papers, sipping an endless stream of lattes and staying right up until they closed for the night. Being back in a cafe like this dredges up those fond memories and you wish you could share them with the guys. You’d always meant to tell them, but even after forty years together, the timing never seemed quite right. And the longer it went, the more impossible it seemed.

“Here we go!” Bucky interrupts your reverie, placing a tray with three steaming cups and a plate of treats on your table. He slides into his seat and snatches a lemon scone with a wide grin, his sweet tooth just as wild as ever.

You reach for the cup immediately after recognizing it as a latte; eager to devour it despite the steam flowing freely from the foam. The first sip is overwhelming, the taste of espresso and steamed milk hitting your tongue for the first time in four decades.

“It’s called a cafe au lait.” Bucky explains, “This is the only place in the city that serves them and they’re just the best.”

You’re lost in your own little world, practically on the verge of tears as your taste buds welcome the familiar flavor. “God,” you murmur to yourself, “I missed this.”

“What, doll?” Bucky asks, his nose wrinkling in confusion.

You look up to see two pairs of blue eyes staring at you in confusion.

“Nothing,” you assure them quickly, “It’s nothing.”

“You said you missed this? Did you come here without us? They just opened last week.” Steve chimes in. He’s like a damned dog with a bone.

You’re overwhelmed by the memories the latte has drug up and the guys are pestering you in unison with increasingly teasing questions as to what you meant and how you could have had one before in order to miss it.

Steve is chuckling at Bucky’s last guess, “If she’s able to climb out a window at 2am-”

“Because I have had them before! Okay?!” you snap, cutting him off. “Hundreds of them. I practically lived off them while I was studying for my masters!” You huff out an exasperated breath, your pulse racing with frustration.

“Your what?” Steve chokes out in confusion.

“Oh hell.” You mutter, now you’ve done it. The conversation you’ve been avoiding for two thirds of your life is upon you and somehow you’re still not ready.

“I think this is an at home type of conversation.” Bucky suggests. “Let’s just finish this up and we can head home.”

The three of you drink your lattes quickly and Bucky asks for a paper sack to take your treats home in. None of you are willing to eat anything with the nervous energy buzzing around. You feel like you’re going to vibrate out of your bones between the caffeine and the terror of what you’re about to reveal to your husbands. You can’t even imagine what this will do to your marriage. To your family. The happy plans you had for your retired lives together are turning to ashes in your mind.

You and Bucky take your usual seats on opposite ends of the sofa leaving Steve to opt for the middle seat opposed to his favored recliner. You barely know where to start but the guys are waiting patiently for you to begin. “I know things are going to change after this, but please, please know how much I love you. How much I’ve always loved you.” You choke back a sob before continuing, “I didn’t move to New York in 1941. I’d lived there since college in 2028….” Slowly, and through a sea of tears, the whole truth comes out. It takes almost an hour and you feel like your insides have been scraped raw between your memories and the quiet tears freely flowing from all three of you. By the time you’ve finished you’re convinced they’ll ask you to leave. They haven’t said a word, just gripped each other’s hands desperately and sniffled at the occasional stray tear.

“We always suspected you had an interesting past.” Steve chuckles wetly, “But I never saw that coming.”

Bucky huffs a teary laugh which brings one of your own up and just like that the tension that’s been brewing for the past hour spills. Steve scoots forward to take you in his arms, peppering you with kisses while Bucky moves in to hug you overtop Steve.

They have questions, lots of them, but you expected they would. The guys take turns; Steve asking about your life growing up and Bucky mostly wanting to know about more “cool future shit” as he’s calling it. You’re discussing the challenges you faced trying to adjust to life in their time after knowing how much better it was for women in the future when Steve gets himself so worked up in self righteous fury that he has an asthma attack. You hold the inhaler patiently to his lips, pressing the cylinder to release his medication for him since his hands still ache. When his breathing evens out enough that you and Bucky are no longer concerned, Bucky starts teasing Steve about trying to be the center of attention despite this being about you.

You spend the full day on that old olive green sofa together. Things you haven’t thought of in ages coming to mind, and you happily share the memories with them. You’re all stiff-muscled and sore by dinner time when you finally get up to rummage through your kitchen for food. The heaviness in the air is gone now, a subdued feeling of relief in its place. You all agree the children won’t be told. It’s better just keeping it between you three. The guys seem to truly understand your reasoning in not telling them and aren’t holding it against you. All in all, they took the news remarkably well. You should have known though. The love you share is the love of a lifetime and something that strong doesn’t just flicker out.

You’re putting three little frozen chicken pot pies in the oven when you hear the guys shouting in outrage over the sound of the television in the living room. You head towards the sound of their discontent.

“Rose!” Steve calls to you, “The MLB just went on strike! Can you believe it?! They’re cancelling 23 games!”

“Oh my god.” you gasp, surprised that the league took such drastic action. Baseball was the only sport watched in your house, both of the guys completely obsessed from July through October every year. It’s going to be odd seeing how this strike plays out and you’re sure the guys will be complaining about it well past when the season ends.

“But you probably already knew that, right?” Bucky teases you lightly.

You stare at him in shock for a moment before swatting him with your dish towel. “Jerk.”

Steve snorts in his effort not to laugh, but Bucky laughs with his whole body, amused by his own self.

“Funny.” you chastise him, “Really funny, guys.”

They settle but are still wearing twin grins of amusement. Throwing an eye roll their way, you head back to the kitchen to start on the salad. After everything, a little teasing is a small price for years of hiding, and one you’re more than willing to pay.

#One In A Million #reader inspired fic #stucky #stucky x reader #reader insert #stucky fanfic #steve rogers x bucky barnes x reader #female reader insert #captain america fanfic #marvel fanfic

23 notes · View notes

wonderlandmind4 · 4 years ago

Text

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

#bucky barnes x ofc #Bucky Barnes x Ana #bucky barnes x ana rios #steve rogers x platonic!ofc #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x original female character #delicate stages drabbles #delicate stages of life #bucky barnes angst #steve rogers angst #baby barnes

43 notes · View notes

elatedmarvel · 5 years ago

Text

No Use Crying Over Spilled Coffee

Word Count: Word Count: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You keep bumping into Steve Rogers, literally.

Word Count: 2364

Warnings: None, not even a swear word (weird I know) she’s a fluffy one

A/N: Remember when I said I was going on a 2 week hiatus? Lol what a joke. Sorry life keeps happening, but I’m going to try and be better about posting. I have so many ideas! Thank you so much for reading! ~J

The day you met him was unremarkable.

You got up, got dressed, and headed to work like any other day. But, something possessed you to stop at that coffee shop. You had gotten up early, it was a bright morning, and you were early for work. You figured one cup of coffee from that fancy coffee shop down the way could truly make this Monday morning a good morning.

You hummed the song playing in the coffee shop softly under your breath and stared at the specials. The choices all had your mouth watering and it was hard to make a decision. There seemed to be some commotion outside as you stepped up to order, but you paid no mind, it was a daily occurrence in NY.

The barista handed you your drink, and just smelling it made you smile. Just as you were about to take your first sip, the front window was shattered as someone was thrown through- taking you and your coffee down with him.

“I’m so sorry” he panted out of breath, quickly scrambling off of you. You barely heard him, staring as you saw your precious coffee in a puddle on the floor. The sight alone could make you tear up, never mind the cuts and bruises you could feel start to form on your body.

A hand came into view, and the world seemed to rush back to you. You looked up and there he was. Captain America.

“You spilled my coffee” was all you could respond.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but I didn’t really have a choice on the landing.” he tried to joke, clearly uncomfortable at your wide eyed gaze.

“But my coffee…” was all you could utter again. Looking around you realized you were still sitting on the floor. You took his hand and he hoisted you up, almost pulling you off the ground.

“Are you sure you’re ok? No concussion?” he asks as his face roams your face and he looks at your eyes. The color of your eyes and the depth of your stare made chills run down his neck. Lost in your eyes, he turns red when you clear your throat, bringing him back to the moment.

“No dilation, that's a good sign.” he awkwardly coughs. “I’m sorry about taking you down.”

“It’s ok. Are you hurt?” genuine concern laced your voice. His uniform was torn, and you were pretty sure he was bleeding.

“I’m fine” surprised that you would ask him. No one ever asked him how he was.

You were about double check when he put his hand to his ear and murmured a coming.

“I have to go, but if you feel drowsy or the pain is too much, you should go to hospital.” he states, already pulling away and rushing back to the fight. “I’m sorry” he shouts back at you once more, and he’s gone.

It takes a second for your to shake out of your daze, but when you do you realize the coffee shop as gone almost back to normal. The customers were still lined up and the baristas were giving out orders. The only thing that made you sure you hadn’t dreamed it was the glass crunching under your shoes, the pitiful puddle of coffee on the ground, and the dull throb on your butt.

You had almost forgotten about the incident by Friday morning when you stepped into your office and there it was. The most inconspicuous cup of coffee sitting on your desk, just your order and the perfect temperature.

If anyone asked, the pep in your step that day was certainly the caffeine, and not the handwritten post it note now thumb-tacked to your board.

Thanks for breaking my fall, hope this makes us even :-)

~~~

Months later, your company had been invited to a huge fundraiser gala hosted by Tony Stark. The event was big, thrown at the Plaza with many fortune 500 companies in attendance.

The moment you walked in, you were a little star struck. Unsure how you had made the cut for the guest list, you felt out of place. Though your boss had given you a generous allowance to spend on your attire, you’re sure your $2,000 Zac Posen evening gown couldn’t compare to the custom made designer gowns and suits that were gleaming under the light.

Spotting a close work friend and some people from your office, you made your way to the open bar and ordered your favorite wine.

“I feel so out of place” you say as soon as you join your group. Drink poised in your right hand.

“I know me too. I feel like we’re the charity.” Rachel from marketing jokes, and you instantly feel better being here.

“What did we do to get on this list?” Jake from accounting asks. And the conversation flows from there. Jokes and small talk were had, and the more time you spent laughing with your co-workers, the more at ease you felt.

2 glasses in and you were feeling loose, your reflexes weren’t as sharp as they should have been. When someone knocks you from behind, your drink goes flying out your hand and finds residence on your dress. The collective gasp from your group lets you know the stain is bad before you even have to look down.

“I’m so sorry!” and you feel a sense of deja vu. Pivoting on your heels to see your assaulter, you come face to red face with Captain America.

“My wine.” was all you could mutter. If possible, his eyes widen even more.

“I’m so sorry Y/n! Bucky pushed me I swear!” he rushed out as he throws an accusatory finger at the brunette standing a few feet away with a Cheshire grin on his face.

You shoot Bucky a small wave before glancing up at Steve again, and boy was that a mistake. If possible, he had gotten more handsome than when you last saw him. His hair was grown out slightly, and his face was freshly shaven. The suit he had on looked like it was molded for his body, and you tried so hard not to outwardly drool over him. You’re heart fluttered when you realized he knew and remembered your name.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” you smirk up at him. Eyes taking in how his blush was spreading from his cheeks to his entire face.

“I swear it was an accident! I was telling Bucky that I thought it was you, he told me to say hi and gave me a little nudge” he rambles, heart pounding under your playful gaze. “I’m sorry I ruined your dress, I’ll pay for the dry cleaning bill. Or I’ll just buy you another one.”

At the mention of your dress, you realize that the wine was starting to sink into your dress and stick to your skin.

“It’s ok Captain Rogers, I didn’t pay for it, and I doubt I’ll have an occasion to wear it again.” You glance around and find that your friends had moved elsewhere, leaving you alone with Steve.

“I think I’m gonna go. Get this off before it sticks anymore.” you say, trying to memorize Steve’s face. Sure it’ll be the last time you see him.

“Let me at least help you get home and make sure the stain didn’t set.” flushing when he realizes what that must sound like to you. “I swear I just want to make sure the dress and you are ok, I won’t even go into your building!”

Your heart warms at his blabbering, and you can’t help but smile up at him.

“I would lo-” and you get interrupted as Pepper Potts herself gives you a smile and takes Steve’s elbow.

“Sorry to barge in but it’s time for your speech Cap” was all she said as she started to drag him away. His eyes searching for you and mouthed an I’m sorry before he was swept away and engulfed by the crowd.

Sure enough, the band quieted as Tony Stark appeared on stage and started the thank yous of the evening. Seeing Steve on stage and watching all the women in the room undress him with your eyes was your breaking point. The wine stain had started to cool, and your heart was tearing a little at being so close, yet so far away from him. The night was over, and all you wanted was to curl up with a pint of ice cream and watch reruns of Friends.

One last look to Steve, who was chewing the inside of his cheek and watching Tony finish up his speech, and you slowly made your way through the crowd. You never noticed the pair of sorrowful blue eyes watching your departure.

The next morning on your way out the door to find some coffee, a hulking bouquet of yellow roses was waiting for you on the doorstep. Sniffing the roses as you went to put them on your table, the card bought a permanent smile to your face.

These roses dull in comparison to you, but I hope you accept my apology.

Steven G. Rogers

~~~

It was finally Friday after the longest week. Everything that could go wrong went wrong. You’re alarm didn’t go off on Monday leaving you 30 mins late for a meeting with the board of the company, unpredicted rainfall ruined your makeup and shoes on Tuesday, the copier jammed on Wednesday so you couldn’t scan any of your contracts, and Thursday brought about a case of mild food poisoning.

You were truly done with the week, and just wanted to crawl into your bed and hibernate till Monday. But, your best friends had made plans and you figured seeing them and some alcohol could brighten an otherwise horrible, no good week.

The music was loud, but no match for the volume at which your friends and you laughed. You could feel the tension slip away story by story and start to be replaced by a decent buzz. Volunteering to get the next round, you gently balance the three drinks in your hands. Gingerly, you swivel on your heel and right into a brick wall of a man, effectively drenching both you and him. His hands come up to your arms to help you keep your balance.

“I’m sorry!” you both exclaim, and you could recognize that voice anywhere.

“You know, if you wanted to see me, all you had to do was say hi” you laugh as you look up and find the shocked face of one Steve Rogers.

“Ugh, you must hate me by now” and he covers one giant hand over his blushed face.

“At least this time you got a small taste of your own medicine.” and you gesture to his soaked white tee shirt. If he notices how your eyes linger at the transparent shirt clinging to all the hard muscle underneath, he doesn’t say.

“I owe you a new drink. Or 3” he smiles down at you.

“I would take you up on that offer, but my girlfriends are waiting for me.” pointing at the table of women obviously staring at the interaction. He aims a small wave and half smile at them, which they return with great enthusiasm.

“Let me replace your drinks then.” and he turns signals to the bartender before you can say anything.

“Thank you, I’m sure they would love to tell the story of how Captain America bought them drinks.” you tease.

“I’m glad they won’t hate me for ruining your night out.” and you both continue the small talk. So engrossed with each other, you don’t even realize that your drinks are ready until the bartender has to slap the bar to grab your attention.

“I’ll walk you to your table, make sure you don’t spill that on anyone else.” and you feel his hand guiding you back towards your friends. “Don’t worry, seems like these things only really happen around you.” you smirk up, and you swear his whole face starts to turn red.

“I’m sorry again, for the coffee and the wine and your beer.” he says and sincerely looks guilty. You’re heart could just burst at his expression, and you laugh when he sticks his bottom lip out in a pout.

“All is forgiven. Under one circumstance.” and you can hear your heartbeat in your ears. His lovely face morphs into one of confusion and your palms sweat a bit more. It’s now or never.

“You take me to dinner.” and the shocked look on his face has you questioning if you really were taking his kind gestures the wrong way. Maybe he was really just trying to be nice.

His small laugh restarts your breathing, and you can feel a smile start to creep up on your face. “You beat me.” he states. “I was gonna spill one more drink on you and then as you out” he jokes.

“I see, well I still have drinks in my hand if you want to stick to your plan.” you grin up at him.

“Nah, I think I’m good” he smiles and leans down slowly. His eyes flicker from yours to your lips. You meet him halfway and the moment your lips touch, the world melts away. His hand comes up to caress you face and you press yourself into him more.

The sudden cold feeling of your beers spilling onto your pants had you pulling away. A little too wrapped up in the kiss, you had tilted the beers in your hand.

“Shoot! I’m so sorry!” you say and you try not to laugh at the irony.

“It’s ok, partly my fault. I distracted you.” he says looking down at his now damp shoes. “But I guess this means I have to ask you out.” and his cheeky smile has you actually laughing.

“It would be my pleasure. As long as I stay dry during the date.”

“Can’t promise anything darling.” and he pecks your lips once more before going back to the bar to replace your drinks.

Going into that coffee shop months ago was the best decision you had ever made.

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve fic #steve fanfiction #steve rogers fan fiction #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #steve fluff #steve imagine #avenger fanfiction

204 notes · View notes

no-champagne-socialist · 6 years ago

Text

Another Cup

Summary: Every day on his way to work, Bucky sees the same woman in the same corner of the coffee shop he visits.

Prompt: The amount of times I see you in this coffee shop is borderline ridiculous and I’m starting to worry about your excessive amount of caffeine intake.

Word Count: 2000-ish

A/N: This is my entry for @sgtjbuccky‘s 3K Writing Challenge. I'm not super happy with how this turned out, but I also have no idea what else to do with here, so here we are. If you have any thoughts, comments, or criticism, I’m happy to hear them! I also want to thank @sonarsyndor for taking the time to read this over and give me her opinion! Thank you!

The day started like any other. Bucky Barnes was up long before the sun could even think about rising, had gone for a run around his neighbourhood before coming home to make himself breakfast and shower. There had been a slight drizzle of rain when he returned from his run, but when he stepped outside, dressed a clean button up shirt with a complimenting tie tucked into a pair of pressed dress pants, the clouds had completely disappeared. He popped his headphones into his ears, making his way down the busy New York sidewalk.

When he was only a couple of blocks away from the hospital, he ducks into the coffee shop on a corner, one that he visited every morning for his daily caffeine fix. Bucky stands in the short line, pulling out his ear phones and reaching into his pocket for his wallet. When the barista greeted him, he responded in kind, requesting his usual beverage.

With a quick thank you, Bucky makes his way down the bar, waiting patiently for his drink to be made. He quickly scans the fairly empty cafe, pausing when he spots a woman sitting in the corner of the room. There was a slight furrow in her brows as she focuses intensely on the computer screen in front of her. Bucky watches as she flipped through the obscene amount of papers on her table, letting out an exasperated sigh when she apparently could not find what she was looking for.

“Americano for James.”

Bucky turned away from the woman, thanking the barista again before taking his drink in his head. He glanced back at her, before shaking his head and leaving the cafe.

Every morning for twenty five days, Bucky arrives at his favourite coffee shop to see the same woman sitting in the same corner of the cafe. He cannot help but notice she always dresses herself in cozy sweaters. As he waits for his coffee every morning, he watched her tug the long sleeves over her fingers and run her fingers through her wild hair and flip through the pile of papers that sit in front of her.

He feels foolish even thinking it, but she interests him. He cannot help but wonder what she’s doing every morning, what she’s working on. He makes the mistake of telling Steve, his close friend and fellow medical resident about her one afternoon as they have a rare moment to eat their lunch together.

“Talk to her, Buck.”

Bucky’s immediate response is to roll his eyes at his friend’s naive advice. “It’s not as easy as that, punk.” He shakes his head, some of his dark hair falling free from the bun he had tied at the base of his neck. “She’s busy.”

It was Steve’s turn to roll his eyes. “I’m not gonna force you to do anything. You’re a grown man. But the worst thing that happens is that she’s totally awful to you, but then you wouldn’t want anything to do with her anyway. Best case scenario, she’s everything you think she is and I’m best man at your wedding.”

So one Wednesday afternoon, Bucky finds himself with a rare day off. After a later morning run, he tucks a paperback in his back pocket and makes his way to his coffee shop. There are a few more people than he is used to at that time in the day, but he stands in line and before he can stop himself, his eyes immediately move to her corner.

He watches as her fingers trace absentmindedly around the rim of the coffee mug. Her other hand rests under her chin, pointer finger tapping an unknown rhythm on her skin. He watches as her eyes - bright and clear - turn their attention from the laptop screen to the space in front of her. He notices her lips moving, just barely. A person without his attention to detail may not notice the conversation she has with herself. But Bucky does. He continues to watch her as she now wraps her fingers around the coffee mug and brings it to her lips. He cannot stop the smile that crosses his face as her face screws up in displeasure and a shudder racks through her body at what he assumes is the taste of disgustingly cold coffee. He only turns his gaze away from her, when the familiar barista interrupts his thoughts - “Good afternoon. What can I get for you today?”

“An americano, please.”

“To go?”

“For here actually.” Bucky is careful not to draw too much attention to himself as he points to the girl that has captured his interest, sitting by the window. “What’s she drinking?”

“Y/N always has our dark roast. With endless refills.”

With an encouraging smile from the barista, Bucky took both mugs from his order from the bar. He turned, taking a breath to steady himself and before he is able to talk himself out of it, or for the voice in his head to tell him that this is an absolutely awful, horrible, no good idea, he walks over to the corner, to her corner. It’s when she looks up at the broad man approaching her, eyes wide and questioning, that Bucky realizes there is no going back from this decision.

“Um, hi there,” he says, mentally cursing his own insecurity. “I’m Bucky.”

Her eyebrows pull together slightly, before she parts her lips and says - in what he sure is the most beautiful voice he has ever heard, “Bucky.” She repeats the name with only a slight hint of confusion, before offering her own in return. “I’m Y/N.” When the stranger smiles at her, Y/N is unable to stop herself from returning one.

“I, uh, this is probably going to sound ridiculous, but I come to this coffee shop almost every day on my way to work and I don’t think there’s been a day I come in here when you’re not already here. And I know that it’s none of my business, but this is getting borderline ridiculous and I’m starting to worry about your excessive amount of caffeine intake.” As soon as the sentence leaves his lips, Bucky feels ridiculous. What kind of idiot is he? Is it really his business as to how much caffeine this total stranger decides to put in her body?

Bucky was pulled from his internal monologue when Y/N’s light chuckle demanded his attention. “You’re probably right. I’m on a deadline and my apartment was so stifling. My agent told me to get out of the house and I found myself here.” She smiled up at handsome man sheepishly. “I spend hours here, but I feel like I’m taking up a table for no reason if I don’t order something every few hours.”

With Y/N’s confession, Bucky remembered the coffee he had ordered for her. “Here,” he said, placing the warm drink in front of her.

Not bothering to hide her confusion, Y/N replied, “did the man who just expressed his deep concern for the fact that I consume too much caffeine just buy me a coffee?”

He chuckled, now rubbing his free hand over his stubble-covered jaw. “It’s decaf.”

“Decaf?” Y/N seems taken aback for a moment, before letting a loud laugh escape her lips. Covering her mouth in an attempt to stifle the sound, she shakes her head. “Point taken. Would you like to sit down, Bucky?”

Trying not to appear too eager, he nods his head, pulling out the chair across from the girl that has been the object of his interest for weeks now. He wraps his hands around the hot mug, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the table. “You mentioned a deadline?”

Y/N nods as she takes a tentative sip of the foreign beverage, a pleased look crossing her features. “I’m a writer. I write for a few different journals, commission stuff usually.”

“What’s this piece about?”

She hesitates for a moment, unsure of whether or not Bucky actually wants to hear about her work. When he sends her a reassuring smile, she starts to tell him about the last few months she spent travelling, a job she had sort of lucked into after had met her roommate’s best friend’s brother’s girlfriend at a party. The woman had worked for a travel magazine and, after reading some of Y/N’s work, had hired her to write quarterly pieces.

“They’ve given me a seven weeks to compile everything from my travels, but it’s proving to be more difficult than anticipated.”

Bucky nodded understandingly. Commenting that he knows how it feels to work under pressure.

“You said you work around here?” Y/N asked, suddenly curious to know more about the kind stranger sitting across from her.

He nodded again, telling her the name of the General Hospital only a couple of blocks away from them. “I’m in my second year of residency there.”

“A doctor, huh?” Y/N smiles at him. “That’s very impressive. I’m in awe of anyone who are able to dedicate themselves to their education. Good for you, Doctor...”

“Barnes.”

Y/N opens her mouth, but her question is smothered by the sound of her phone ringing. She apologizes profusely, putting the phone to her ear before looking at the caller id.

“Oh shit,” she immediately curses. She groans into her palm, closing her laptop. Without putting in much effort, Bucky can hear the person on the other line loudly respond. “I’m so, so sorry, Pepper. Tell Tony I’m sorry. I’m like three minutes away. I’m on my way I promise. Don’t fire me. On the way.” She ends the call, tossing her phone into her bag before gathering her papers into a haphazard pile. “Shit. I’m so sorry, Bucky, I completely forgot about a meeting with my agent and prospective client. I have to go.”

Y/N shovels her things into her laptop bag, pulling her jacket from the back of her chair and tossing it over her arm.

She pauses in her frenzy, glancing over at the blue eyed man sitting patiently across from her. Y/N reaches into her back, pulling out a small notebook. She scrawls a quick note before ripping it from the pad.

“My life for the next two weeks is absolutely crazy. It usually is while I’m trying to finish a piece. Actually,” she laughs to herself and shaking her head, “my life is usually pretty crazy. But if you’d like a little more crazy in your life, I’ve probably got enough for the both of us.” She hoists her bag on her shoulder, holding the paper out to Bucky. “It’s my number. You don’t need to use it, but I have a feeling it wouldn’t be the worst idea if you did.”

Bucky felt his cheeks flush at her forwardness and he found himself nodding. “You probably do need someone to keep an eye on the amount of caffeine you consume on a daily basis.”

The bright smile that Bucky receives in reply almost makes his heart stop. “You make a good point, Dr. Barnes, maybe we should cross coffee off the list for first date ideas.”

#no-champagne writes #Bucky Barnes #Bucky #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes!AU #bucky!au #CoffeeShop!AU #bucky barnes fiction #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #marvel fiction #marvel!au #sgtjbuccky3kcelebration

210 notes · View notes

omg-foreverfilledwithweird-posts · 6 years ago

Text

Weathering the Storm (Thor X OC)

Thor Odinson X Fem, Plus Size! OC

Summary: The Avengers and Carmen go out to a bar for Natasha’s birthday, which Carmen obviously plans, and a night of chaos and fun ensues. But when the charming prince of Asgard begins getting jealous and protective of Carmen, how will she react?

Author’s Note: Not much to say except that I’m in love with this series, because it’s Thor and I already love Carmen, and I hope you all enjoy it because I LOVE IT and I just adore this gif of Thor

Word Count: 5656

Warnings: Insane amounts of fluff, sERIOUSLY IT SHOULD BE ILLEGAL, Flirty! Thor, so much flirting, ALCOHOL, jealousy, and I’m sorry y’all but a lot of angst at the end :(, but I’ll make it up to y’all in the next part

FC: Ashley Graham

Thor has grown more touchy over the last few weeks, starting from simple shoulder brushes when the two of them passed each other in the hallways, trailing fingers down her arm when they’re next to each other, lingering stares, to undressing Carmen with his eyes and that playful smirk and grin that just about drives her slowly insane. She begins to notice these little things overtime, watching the prince of Asgard grow more and more bold with her, but she never minds, reveling in the attention and secret glances that are sent in each other’s direction. She’s fallen into the depths of those blue eyes more than once now.

And everyone knows it.

Carmen downs the rest of her third coffee, and begins planning the Avengers nightly escapade to Nat’s favorite bar for her birthday, making reservations, ordering decorations, and, most importantly, the perfect present for her best friend. But how can one item convey so much love, adoration, and companionship to the person its given to? That’s why everything has to be perfect. And no less.

“Carmen,” Tony rests a hand on her shoulder, shutting Carmen’s laptop lid slowly. “You’re going a mile a minute here, you need a break.”

She pouts her bottom lip, whining softly when she looks at all she needs to get done for the party, “But-”

“It’s just going to a bar, Wolfe,” he sighs, tugging her to stand up from her chair. “It’s not the royal wedding. As long as we’re all there, and there’s booze and food, we’ll all be fine. You know us.”

“But she’s my best friend,” she runs a hand through her unkempt curls and bites her lip. “I want her to like it.”

“And she will, she likes anything you do,” he assures her, nodding in Thor’s direction when he walks into the room.

Carmen turns around and smiles invitingly to the god who mirrors it warmly, and, of course, Tony watches with a smug grin, walking out of the room with a taunting wave in Carmen’s direction who glares at his back as he leaves.

“Thor...” she says, looking over his casual attire that consists of a black shirt and sweatpants that hang loosely and low on his lean hips. Topped off with his tied back golden hair, a few errant strands framing his chiseled face, with the smallest hint of a smile on her lips.

“Lady Carmen,” he smiles and walks past her, brushing her shoulder. “You look lovely today,” he looks at her.

She furrows her brow and laughs softly, looking down at her plain band tee and shorts combo, not once putting a thought into this appearance. “I do?”

“You always do,” he says sweetly, looking skeptically at the coffee pot, tilting his head curiously like a small cat would. “What is this dark liquid trapped in a glass chamber?”

“That’s coffee,” she laughs. “It’s filled with caffeine and helps you get through the day. You should try it, I think you’ll enjoy it,” she says, pouring him a mug of it and handing it to him.

He looks at her and she nods the go ahead, then he stares at the mug in his hands before cautiously taking a sip. His eyes widen at the bitter but delicious taste, drinking the rest of it in one gulp, and he grins, “This drink, I like it. Another!” he booms, throwing the mug down on the floor and scaring the hell out of Carmen.

“What the shit!” she looks, wide eyed, at him. “Why the hell did you do that?”

“Did I do something wrong?” he frowns, furrowing his brow like a scolded child. “In Asgard, that is what we do when we enjoy something, to signal to the servants that we want more.”

“This isn’t Asgard, Thor!” she shakes her head, resting her face in her hands. “And we don’t have servants here. You can’t do that,” she takes her hands off her face to look at him.

“My apologies, Lady Carmen,” he rests his hand on her bare arm, looking her in the eye sincerely. “I am deeply sorry for breaking your... weirdly shaped cup.”

“It’s called a mug, Thor,” she sighs, but she’s grinning when she shakes her head as she goes to the broom closet to clean up the broken shards on the kitchen floor.

She sweeps them up into the pan and he watches as she walks over to the trash can and brushes the pieces into the bag.

“Thank you, Lady Carmen,” he says when she comes back to make her fourth cup of coffee for the day, pouring in the hazelnut creamer and taking a warm, comforting sip.

“You’re welcome,” she rolls her eyes fondly, smiling over the rim of her other mug. “Hey, are you doing anything tonight?”

“Besides buying you a new mug, no,” he says with a small smile and she returns it immediately, heart doing that fluttery action again that she can’t quite pinpoint.

“It’s Natasha’s birthday,” she says, drumming her sapphire painted fingernails on the marble counter. “And we’re having a party at her favorite bar. Would you...” she purses her lips, suddenly sheepish and nervous inviting him, but she laughs it off, looking down at her shuffling feet. “Would you like to go?”

“Of course,” he grins broadly at her without skipping a beat and she can feel herself become more at ease, silently cursing her weak heart for making her feel such weird things around him. And how he can melt all her walls down just by smiling at her. She’s gone soft for the prince of Asgard. “If you’re there, it’s bound to be enjoyable.”

“Oh, it will be,” she chuckles, tucking hair behind her ear, tapping her finger against her thick thigh, flicking her eyes up to him to find him already looking at her, the words hanging in the air.

“I will see you tonight, then, Lady Carmen,” he flashes a megawatt smile, pulling her hand up to kiss her knuckles softly, looking in her eyes when he does so before walking out of the room.

She rests a hand over her heart and attempts to breathe deeply when it won’t calm the hell down, ready to throw this mug down in frustration at the rush of emotions hitting her like a bullet.

What am I going to do?

*****

“Natasha, I’m going crazy,” Carmen paces back and forth in her bedroom, Nat watching the display with an amused smile painted onto her ruby lips as she applies mascara.

“You’re not going crazy, Carmen,” she repeats with a roll of her emerald eyes.

“But I am!” Carmen turns to her friend, running a hand through her freshly, curled hair. “I can’t sleep right, I feel nauseous all the time, my heart keeps getting this... this fluttery feeling and it’s like someone’s squeezing my chest and slowly killing me from the inside out, and- and I can’t think or talk right when I’m with him.”

“And him is... Thor, right?” Nat turns in her chair to raise her eyebrows pointedly at Carmen who nods sheepishly, face in her hands.

“Thought so,” Nat nods and walks over to hold Carmen’s hands in her own, looking her dead in the eye. “Honey... this, what you’re feeling right now, that’s called love.”

“I don’t love him!” Carmen says rather loudly, arms folded over her chest defensively. “I’ve only known him for two months. I’m just... I’m only attracted to him.”

“So is the rest of the human race,” Nat smirks at her own joke and Carmen laughs weakly at her attempt to lighten the mood, heart hammering at the thought of him and the thought of other people taking his heart instead of her. “This isn’t just attraction. You like him.”

“But I don’t want to!” she argues, throwing up her hands in a frustrated strive to express her emotions.

“You don’t choose who you fall for, that’s entirely up to fate,” Nat gives her a soft, motherly smile. She always has been the mom in their friend circle. “The heart wants what it wants...”

Carmen plops down on her bed, burying her face in her pillow, sighing into the material. “It’s so painful,” she grumbles.

“That’s why they call it a crush,” Nat shrugs, sitting down on the end of the best, dusting off her black, pantsuit ensemble, bright, twirling a strand of her bright, red hair that’s fallen from her pinned at the back of her head intricate style.

“Because it crushes your fucking soul,” Carmen finishes with a groan.

“Exactly,” Nat pats her back. “Now get up, we have a party to get to.”

“They can’t start without the guest of honor,” Carmen looks up from the pillow.

“Have you met our friends?” she raises her eyebrows.

“You’re right, “ Carmen sits up in an instant, flattening down her black, leather, skin-tight dress that reaches her mid calf, a small but sexy opening at the middle of her thigh, showing off her golden and tanned, toned skin, flaunting her killer curves. Teasing her high ponytail with her fingers, she looks to her friend, putting on a brave face when she grins, not once faltering.

“You ready, birthday girl?” Carmen holds her arm out to her best friend and she happily hooks her arm around hers.

“Of course, but are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Nat looks at her friend with a weary expression, searching her for any possible worry and finding a familiar pinch between Carmen’s eyebrows that she knows all too well.

“Yeah,” Carmen walks with her out of the room to meet everyone in the lobby before heading to the party. “Yeah, I’ll be-”

No, no, I won’t be okay.

It hits her like a freight train when she sees him, standing and laughing boisterously with Cap, Bucky, and Bruce, that’s when she realizes that she sees every little thing about him to the way his eyes crinkle in the corner, the way his eyes light up when she walks into the room, the way he smiles with his entire face, or the way he commands attention in a room without even trying. He’s dressed head to toe in black, an all raven colored suit that’s fitted in all the right places with his long hair pulled back with a few strands hanging over his eyes and his stupidly attractive face. Her breath catches in her throat.

“Shit, no, I’m not okay,” Carmen whisper-screams to Nat, shaking her head ferociously.

“Lady Carmen!” Thor’s deep voice booms, unaware of everyone else in the room when he sets his sights on her in another ravishing dress that he loves looking at on her soft, supple yet striking curves. It’s almost impossible to keep his hands off of her when he sees her, and his face hurts from smiling so widely as she approaches him with a bright smile that’s only made for him.

“You look good, birthday girl,” Tony smiles and presses a friendly kiss to Nat’s cheek and she rolls her eyes with a small, good-natured smile. “And so does your friend, is she single?” he says with a teasing wink.

“Funny,” Carmen scoffs flatly, laughing at Stark, smirking at Thor when he continues to look at her. “Hi, Thor. You look handsome.”

He chuckles nervously and scratches the back of his neck, being sheepish is new to him, and never has he felt this way around a woman. “Thank you. You- you look stunning as well, very much so.”

She bites down on her lip and smiles, and it drives Thor crazy. “You’re very sweet, Thor. And, did you mean to match my outfit? Because it seems we’ve color coordinated.”

“Purely accidental,” he says, looking her over with a playful smirk. “But a nice surprise all the same.”

“Okay,” Tony gets the attention of everyone. “Everyone into the limo, and hurry before Thor and Carmen continue eye-banging and make me throw up my lunch.”

“We’re not eye-banging,” Carmen rolls her eyes, looking at Thor. “Besides, I’d much rather be doing the real thing, much more pleasurable that way,” she teases with a sly wink in his direction, brushing past him with a gaping Nat still on her arm.

Thor’s left speechless, frozen to the spot before Sam finally comes up and pats him on the back, forcing him out the door, “It seems Carmen likes you now. And I don’t know if that’s better or worse than her hating you.”

“Believe me, metal bird,” he smiles breathlessly after her. “It’s far better.”

*****

“What. Was. That?” Nat’s eyes are wide when she asks Carmen, sipping deliciously on her sex on the beach, wondering what had gotten into her best friend.

Carmen shakes her head, taking a bite of the birthday cake she got for Nat after everyone blowing out its candles and cutting it up, savoring the sweet, red velvet taste. Then she bites down on her lip when she smiles at all of her friends: Bruce and Tony playing darts, Thor and Steve arm wrestling while Bucky is the mediator when things went too far, Wanda laughing drunkenly as she looks on to the hilarious display of testosterone, and Sam cracking jokes as usual when the situation called for it.

“I don’t know!” Carmen buries her burning face in her hands, peeking through her fingers slightly to glare at her amused friend. “It just... slipped out and... God, that was too much wasn’t it.”

“A little, but by the looks of him, I say he liked bold Carmen,” she smirks, red lips curling in the corners over the opening of her crazy straw.

“Lady Carmen!” Thor waves her over, as if on cue, to where him and Cap are arm wrestling, smiling broadly when she gives in and walks over to see what he needs.

“Yes?” she asks coyly, sitting down in a chair beside him and Nat sliding in beside her to talk to Bruce, helping him with his poor dart aim.

“I wanted to invite you to sit with us,” he says while Steve offers him a sip of his beer, and Thor happily obliges, taking a long sip before making a disgusted face. “This drink is horrid and weak... I feel nothing,” he passes it back to Cap while the table erupts with laughter.

Thor leans towards Carmen and hands her his silver flask, “Asgardian mead is much stronger, you should try it, Lady Carmen.”

She looks wearily between Thor and the flask before taking a quick and short sip, coughing uncontrollably afterward, a hand over her mouth as the bitter, incredibly strong taste runs down her throat, leaving a burning feeling in its wake.

“That...” she coughs again, handing him back the flask. “That tastes like a forest fire, Thor.”

Thor roars with laughter, “It is not for the faint of heart, Lady Carmen. Perhaps you’d like a mixed drink, instead.”

“No, no,” she shakes her head. “I’m staying as far away from that drink as I can. That’s pure poison,” she coughs for emphasis, laughing along with Thor.

He takes another sip of the flask, holding his gaze with her while he does so, lips edging into a small smile when he pulls it away, “This isn’t even the strongest liquor we have on Asgard. There’s a few that even I can’t stand.”

“Not even the mighty Thor can stomach them?” Carmen says with a teasing smile, sipping her own drink, smiling and peering at him over the rim. “I find that hard to believe.”

He laughs again, looking at her softly, “I am not perfect, Lady Carmen, and I was sure that nobody was until I laid eyes on you.”

She flushes, something she’s found herself never doing until she met the flattering and charismatic god of thunder, “Thank you, but I’m far from perfect.”

“Why must you discount yourself, Lady Carmen? I find you breathtaking and astonishing, you should think no less,” he says, leaning towards her ever so softly and she does the same, like a magnet pulling the two of them closer and closer without either of them meaning to. Her best friend’s words ringing through her head, That’s entirely up to fate. And fate is one cruel, cruel mistress.

“Are you like this with all the girls or am I just lucky?” she looks from his beckoning lips back to his cutting eyes, smirking.

He shakes his head, flashing a boyish smile. “You’re just one of the lucky ones, I suppose.”

Carmen shakes her head with a soft laugh, taking her long, dark curls out of her insanely tight ponytail, and running a hand through them, attracting the attention of a flirty drunk.

She sees him smiling at her and she smiles politely back, turning away afterwards, and giving a ‘help me’ look to Nat when he starts walking over to her, but dread soon fills her when she sees her she’s preoccupied with Banner and not paying attention.

“Hey, pretty lady,” a hand rests on her shoulder and she turns around to look at him. “Want to dance?”

“No, I’m okay,” she says softly, afraid if she gives him a second glance he will never leave her alone. “Thank you, though.”

The guy reaches for her shoulder again, “Come on, baby-”

“I believe the lady said no,” Thor’s deep, thundering voice catches both of their attention and he stands up from his seat to tower over the man, the angriest that Carmen’s ever seen him, vein in his neck, jaw held tightly, and fists clenched at his sides.

“Thor, calm down, I can handle this,” Carmen stands up to rest her gently on his bicep, feeling him soften slightly under her touch. “This has happened before, I got-”

Thor shakes his head and frowns deeply, looking down at the drunken, frightened man, shivering in his boots, “But it shouldn’t happen, when a woman says ‘no’ she means ‘no’, why must you ask twice when she has already expressed that she is not interested?”

“Whatever, man,” the guy rolls his eyes and takes a long swig from his beer bottle, swaying from left to right when he pokes Thor tauntingly in the chest. “I saw her first, you’re going to have to wait your turn,” he slurs.

“Do not touch me again,” Thor looks at the man with hooded, narrowed eyes, trying to keep his angered and fast breathing leveled.

“You... ass! I’m not a hooker!” Carmen snaps at the man, lunging for him, but Thor holds her back with an arm wrapped around her. Thor with one arm holding Carmen back, continues to glare icy daggers at the man.

“Just be on your way, I do not wish to fight you,” Thor says, eerily calm despite his heaving chest, holding both himself and Carmen back. “But I will if I must.”

Steve rests a calming hand on Thor’s shoulder, “Thor, buddy, he’s not worth it, let’s go before we cause a scene.”

Carmen agrees, shaking her head, slipping out of his grasp, “Cap’s right, Thor, I’m fine. Let’s just go.”

The guy spits at Thor, an ugly scowl overtaking his disheveled, unshaven face, “Leave, and from now on, keep your bitch in line.”

Thor swings his fist around and punches the man square in the jaw, knocking a few teeth out with the powerful blow and a resounding CRACK! ringing around the bar.

Carmen, chest rising and falling with angry breaths, turns to Thor, “Why did you do that? He was only trying to get a rise out of you! You can’t just go around and punch people, Thor!”

He frowns, confused as to why she’s mad, “I was only defending your honor, Lady Carmen-”

“Defending my honor?” she repeats, furrowing her brow. “We’re not together, Thor. You can’t act on childish jealousy and think it’s just you being chivalrous, this is the real world, not Asgard,” she spits, anger boiling in her blood.

“Fine!” he yells, all the Avengers heads snapping in their direction, watching the fight unfurl with worried eyes. “I’ll just leave you alone then since you want nothing to do with me.”

She chuckles darkly, “That’s rich. Because, contrary to popular belief, I liked you. But that was before you started barreling around like a muscular oaf of a child, punching your way through your problems.”

Thor shakes his head and scoffs, “You think anyone willing to stick up for or protect you is ill-willed because you can’t fathom the thought of anyone truly caring about you. All because you’re much too stubborn to see anything besides the fact!” he throws his hands up in frustration, a habit very similar to Carmen’s. Then he sighs, speaking low and quiet when he says, “So I’ll stay clear of you since that is what you wish.”

“Fine,” she says, voice cracking despite her cool demeanor. “By all means, then, leave me alone, because all I am is just some stubborn girl that’s only a mortal fling to you, anyway, right, your majesty? All I am is just... just a one time flirting endeavor that you never talk to again after you go back to Asgard,” she spits, breathing hard from her rant, tears prickling her eyes. “Well, news flash, you... you-” her voice breaks entirely and a tear slips from her eye. “I’m not going to sit around and wait for you to leave like everyone else in my life has done already,” she says, grabbing her purse and walking out of the bar while everyone watched, Nat running after her.

Tears run down Carmen’s face, mascara running under her eyes as she profusely tries to wipe it away, hailing a cab to go home as she whispers to herself, “I just ruined everything...”

#angst im sorry #angst #fluff #thor odinson imagine #thor x oc #thor x reader #thor odinson #tony stark #steve rogers #natasha romanaff #wanda and vision #bucky barnes #marvel imagine #marvel fanfic

71 notes · View notes