#chanty's holiday 2017

[chalantness]

Let It Snow - day twenty-seven

(for my “season of shipping” giveaway)

Rating: PG-13 Word Count: ~1,300 Characters: Bruce/Selina Prompt: marriage + New Year’s heist

For: @donnastroys

A/N: I’m still not over the fact that they’re engaged and this pile of fluffy trash is the result of that.

Read on: [ ao3 ]

“Didn’t think I’d see you tonight.”

Selina feels herself smile, glancing over her shoulder to find his silhouette perched on the other end of the ledge. She licks her lips and watches as he straightens out of his crouch. It’s ridiculous how attractive this man is: tall and towering, with broad shoulders and sculpted muscles and hard edges. Daunting, dangerous. So damn sexy.

“Oh, I thought I’d squeeze something in while the night is still young,” she says, straightening up and turning on her heels, balancing along the ledge as she walks toward him. She glances over the edge of the rooftop, down the height of the high-rise to the speeding cars and bustling crowds below. It always feels like a different world all the way up here, away from the chaos and blinding lights. The shadows are comforting, the quiet even more so, and most of all? The presence of the man standing across from her. She doesn’t frighten easily – or, rarely at all – but especially not with this man hovering over her shoulder, always so attentive, so alert. If she jumped right now, he would probably catch her in seconds.

“I figured you had some party to go to.” She can imagine him arching an eyebrow under that mask. “Somewhere nice to see the fireworks.”

She almost laughs. Almost.

“Sarcasm really isn’t your thing, Bats.” She comes to a stop in front of him, tilts her head as she reaches a hand out, presses her palm flat over the bat symbol stretched across his chest. He lifts his hand and wraps it gently around her wrist. Gives it a small squeeze.

“No, I guess not.” His lips twitch at the corners. Heaven forbid the man crack a smile once in a while. “Are going to tell me what you’re doing in your suit all the way up here, Cat?”

She chuckles, stretches on her toes, until their faces are inches apart. “Always straight to the point with you. I didn’t steal, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Oh?”

She doesn’t know how he manages to make that one syllable sound smug, and she doesn’t know why she loves it so much. “I’m borrowing,” she tells him, and then shrugs one shoulder as she amends, “well, sort of. But you won’t have to worry about it.” Grazing her lips over the apple of his cheek, she presses a soft, barely there kiss, relishing in the soft exhale that leaves his lips, the way his entire body seems to ease at her touch. “This is bad luck, you know.” She nips at his jaw. “Seeing your bride right before the ceremony.”

His hum is colored in amusement as he tightens his grip on her wrist, his other hand sliding over the small of her back and urging her closer. “I don’t believe in superstitions.”

She laughs. “Of course you don’t.” Leaning back to see his face, she arches an eyebrow. “But what if your bride does?”

“No, she doesn’t.” He smirks at her, small but smug. “She wouldn’t be my bride if she did.”

“Ass,” she breathes out, smiling too widely to mean it, and she can feel him smiling, too, when he leans in to slant his lips over hers.

He kisses her hard and rough, but with a tenderness that makes a warmth unfurl in her stomach, makes her blood race and her heart do this stupid little flutter in her chest. He doesn’t kiss her like she’s fragile, because he knows she isn’t. He doesn’t hold back like he’s trying to keep his composure, doesn’t hold her like he’s afraid she’ll slip right through his fingers.

He kisses her with certainty, with a comfort that he has knowing that she isn’t afraid, that she can handle it. She can handle him, with all of his jagged lines and sharp edges, with his calloused hands and his rough touch. She relishes in the marks he leaves, in the way he gets so lost in his emotions, gets so lost in her, that he’s a little careless. Calm, collected, and ever composed Bruce Wayne, turned into a swirling haze of want, because of her. Everything he keeps locked inside and pushed down comes undone by her touch, and she loves it.

She loves him.

He grasps her by her shoulder, leading her from the ledge and pressing her up against the brick of the skylight, kissing her harder, deeper. She’s tucked away from the rest of the world like this, surrounded by his cape, by all of his warmth and his muscles. She quite likes the idea of never having to leave. But.

“Easy, boy,” she chuckles, leaning away, twisting her head when he follows her lips. His mouth slides over the column of her neck instead, kissing her, and she hums. “Bat.”

“Cat,” he murmurs, suckling very gently over her pulse. She bites down on her lower lip.

“Bat. We still have somewhere to be.” He hums, grazing his teeth against her skin, and she lets out a sharp laugh. “My dress won’t be able to cover a hickey, so don’t you dare.”

He breathes out a chuckle, lifts his head and kisses her on the lips, long and lingering. She wonders how pissed Lois would be if they were late.

Probably very pissed.

She reaches up to cup his cheek, running her thumb over his bottom lip. “Unless you want to incur the wrath of my Maid of Honor, I suggest you let me leave to get ready.” Her lips curve into a smirk. “You may not believe in luck, but I’m fairly certain it isn’t a good sign for the groom to be chewed out because he’s late to his own wedding.”

He huffs out a breath but obeys, straightening up and loosening his grip on her, but not quite letting go, either. She knows the feeling.

“Are you really not going to tell me what made you put on your suit tonight?” he asks. She knows he’s not asking because he’s upset. He’s just curious.

“Let’s just say, it’s my something new and something blue,” she tells him, reaching up to toy with the zipper of her suit, drawing his eyes to the dip of her breasts. “And it’s something you will be happy very I came here for, assuming you don’t rip it off of me out of pure impatience again.” His lips twitch ever so slightly. “It was supposed to be delivered yesterday except there was a mix-up, and the boutique is closed today, which just couldn’t do for our wedding night.” She grins. “It’s not technically stealing if it’s supposed to be mine, right?”

“That’s still arguable,” he says, and then he reaches for his belt, pulling out a slim, velvet box and opening it for her to see inside.

Pearls.

His mother’s pearls, she’s assuming, but not the same necklace she’s seen before. These are softer and more delicate: two strings of pearls intertwining, coming together in a rose diamond brooch. Beautiful. Her breath catches.

“My father gave these to my mother for their anniversary,” he tells her, slipping the lid back on. “She never wore them outside the house. Said they were too nice and she needed a good reason to show them off.” He places the box in her hand, curls her fingers around it. “But she would’ve given them to you today. Something old and something borrowed.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in superstitions,” she says, her voice soft and a little shaky, and, fuck. If she starts tearing up, she’s going to be pissed.

“I don’t.” He grasps her chin in his fingers, tips her head and presses a soft, sweet kiss to her forehead. “But I believe in you.”

“Sap,” she breathes out on a laugh, stretching on her toes to kiss him on his lips. It’s too soft and too swift for her liking, but if she gets lost in him again, they may never make it to the church. She tightens her grip on the pearls as she puts a few steps between them, glancing over her shoulder and smiling. “I’ll meet you at the altar, Bat.”

“It’s a date, Cat,” he says, and she doesn’t miss the way he smiles before she leaps away.

[makistar2018]

Inside Taylor Swift's Personal Diary Entries: Read All of the Biggest Revelations

By Tomás Mier August 24, 2019

Photo: DIA DIPASUPIL/GETTY

Lover of Diaries

Fans got an inside look at some of Taylor Swift’s most personal thoughts when they bought the deluxe version of her new album, Lover.

Along with some behind-the-scenes recordings, each album featured a 30-page booklet with excerpts from her personal diaries — some even from she was just 13!

“I’ve written about pretty much everything that’s happened to me. I’ve written my original lyrics in those diaries, just feelings,” she said on an Instagram Live announcing the booklets. “It’s everything from pictures drawn, photos of that time in my life, I used to like tape stuff in my diaries.”

Here are the top 10 takeaways from her personal diary entries.

Photo: CHRISTOPHER POLK/GETTY 

Swift the Lyricist

If the diary entries are filled with anything, it’s a deep dive into her song lyrics.

“Red” was born on a long flight — and everyone she played it for loved it.

“Its [sic] so different than anything we’ve done,” she wrote in 2011. “I can’t even tell you how alive and worthwhile I feel when I’m writing a new song and I finish it and people like it. It’s the most fulfilling feeling, like getting an A+ on your report card.”

The diaries also share early versions of “All Too Well” and songs like “Long Live,” “White Horse,” “Holy Ground” and “This Love.”

In a 2014 entry, she writes about the creation of her ultra-hit “Shake It Off.”

“The best way I know how to describe it is that the chorus just fell out of the sky,” she wrote in 2014.

“We all went home and I wrote the first and second verses and brought them in the next day. We wrote this chanty cheer leader bridge that I absolutely LOVE,” she continued.

As for the album cover that would accompany “Shake It Off,” she wrote that she “saw it within 10 seconds.”

“The craziest moment came when something caught my eye. The cover photo is photo 13. I kid you not,” she wrote about the polaroid cover to 1989, which she accompanied with a sketch.

Photo:  HENRY LAMB/BEI/REX/SHUTTERSTOCK

A Glamorous Gala

In a diary entry, Swift writes about being invited to “this event called ‘The Met Gala.’”

To an 18-year-old Swift, that day was “THE party of the year.”

“The paps started SCREAMING for me. It was crazy,” she wrote in May 2008. “We made our way up the red carpet, posing for everyone. All of the women looked so glamorous in their gowns.”

Along with meeting Anna Wintour, George Clooney, Julia Roberts and Giorgio Armani at the event, she wrote that “models stood as decorations, standing still and wearing gorgeous gowns.”

Once inside, she lists “every celebrity ever created” at the event, including Scarlett Johansson, Tom Brady, Beyoncé, Victoria Beckham, Tom Cruise and Jon Bon Jovi “who called me over to talk to him.”

Photo: LARRY BUSACCA/GETTY 

Borchetta's Beginnings

Weeks before the release of Lover, a public feud involving Swift and her old label Big Machine made headlines when the label’s founder Scott Borchetta sold the label (and ownership of her masters) to Scooter Braun.

But years before, Swift had nothing but kind things to say about the label founder who signed her.

After meeting with Capitol Records and not being offered “the deal I would want,” she met with Borchetta — and left with feelings of excitement.

“I really loved all the stuff he said in the meeting, and he stayed for the whole Bluebird show,” she wrote in November 2014. “And he’s SO passionate about this project. I think that’s the way we’re gonna go, I want to surround myself with passionate people.”

A meeting with Borchetta also made “Sparks Fly” as she came up with the name of her second album.

“We were talking about the record and I had this epiphany,” she wrote in April 2010. “I didn’t talk in interviews about how I felt about much of what has happened in the last two years. I’ve been silent about so much that I’m saying on this album. It’s time to Speak Now.���

“Scott freaked out. He loved it,” she wrote in April 2010. “We have a title, ladies and gentlemen!”

Photo: SPLASH 

"The Hunters Will Always Outnumber Me"

Swift also opens up about the lack of privacy that comes with being a celebrity — and how she’ll never get used to seeing “a group of people staring, amassed outside my house, pointing, camera phones up…”

“They could never imagine how much that feels like being hunted,” she wrote.

Swift compares her “mostly perfect life” to “being a tiger in a wildlife enclosure.”

“It’s pretty in there, but you can’t get out,” she described in the August 2013 note.

“No matter how big my house is or how many albums I sell, I’m still going to be the rabbit,” she added. “Because the hunters will always outnumber me. The spectators will stand by, shaking their heads, going ‘that poor girl.’ But the point is, they’re still watching. Everyone loves a good hunt.”

But her feelings about being “hunted” also translated into worrying about her generation’s obsession with taking photos “so that they can spend all day checking the comments underneath.”

“They will never truly experience a moment without attempting to capture it and own it,” she wrote, comparing pulling a flower from the ground to take photos. “Nevermind that picking a flower kills it, the same way taking a picture of a moment can ruin it altogether.”

Swift has notably kept comments off of her post to improve her mental health.

“I’m training my brain to not need the validation of someone telling me that I look 🔥🔥🔥,” she wrote in Elle. “I’m also blocking out anyone who might feel the need to tell me to ‘go die in a hole ho’ while I’m having my coffee at nine in the morning.”

Photo: AL MESSERSCHMIDT/GETTY

From Fearful to "Fearless"

Though Swift is now known for her jaw-dropping stage presence, as a young singer she wrote that she would “get stage fright every time I walk onto a stage.”

“I wish it wasn’t so, but I can’t blame my mind for freaking out about performances,” she wrote in 2010, days before releasing Speak Now. “Criticism of my performances has been the biggest source of pain in my life.”

“I sometimes feel like my college degree is in acting like I’m ok when I’m not,” wrote a 20-year-old Swift.

But even as a burgeoning singer at just 13, she would get hate while on stage. During one performance, her guitar pick broke in half and fell while she was playing.

“There was this huge silence! It was awful! I had to bend over and pick it up in front of everyone!” she wrote next to the broken pick. “And while I was singing, this guy was shouting stuff like, ‘Go on, b*#@! Sing that country bulls#*%! Go on motherf—!.’ It was awful.”

Photo: SCOTT GRIES/GETTY IMAGES

Done with Dieting

In her diaries, she also candidly writes about sticking to a diet as a teen.

Soon after Thanksgiving 2006, she returned to Nashville to her “own comfy bed” and planned to go out to eat with her best friend Abigail Anderson during a day off.  

“Oh and I’m dieting again,” she wrote right after.

“Over the holidays I didn’t watch what I ate and man its [sic] so weird how fast I can gain or lose weight… It’s crazy,” she ended the note. “So I’m going to lose some now.”

Earlier this year, she wrote about finally being okay with gaining weight.

“I learned to stop hating every ounce of fat on my body,” she wrote in Elle. “I worked hard to retrain my brain that a little extra weight means curves, shinier hair, and more energy.”

The “Daylight” singer also said that she’s constantly working on her body image.

“I think a lot of us push the boundaries of dieting, but taking it too far can be really dangerous. There is no quick fix,” she said. “I work on accepting my body every day.”

Photo: CHRISTOPHER POLK/GETTY IMAGES

"I'ma Let You Finish, But..."

“Ahh… the things that can change in a week…” wrote Swift in a Sept. 18, 2009 journal entry.

Five days had passed since Kanye West crashed Swift’s Video of the Year acceptance speech at the MTV Video Music Awards, but the whole ordeal was all she — and everyone else — could think about.

“If you had told me that one of the biggest stars in music was going to jump up onstage and announce that he thought I shouldn’t have won on live television, I would’ve said ‘That stuff doesn’t really happen in real life,’” she wrote.

“Well… apparently…. It does,” she ended the note.

Little did 19-year-old Swift know that West would cause more tumult in her life seven years later. In an August 2016 note, she simply wrote, “This summer is the apocalypse.”

The “apocalyptic” summer came when West referred to the singer as “that bitch”in his track “Famous” and featured a nude version of the “Shake It Off” singer in its accompanying video.

Then, Swift said she never approved of the lyric after his wife Kim Kardashianleaked a phone call conversation between the two singers.

“Being falsely painted as a liar when I was never given the full story or played any part of the song is character assassination,” she wrote then. That “Cruel Summer” ordeal would go on to inspire her sixth album, reputation.

Photo:  SPLASH NEWS

A Joe Alwyn “Love Story”

Like in Lover’s lyrics, Swift doesn’t hold back about her deep feelings for boyfriend Joe Alwyn in her personal diary.

Clearly writing about Alwyn, the singer confessed about wanting to keep their relationship under wraps as much as possible.

“I’m essentially based in London, hiding out trying to protect us from the nasty world that just wants to ruin things,” she wrote in a January 2017 note. “We have been together and no one has found out for 3 months now. I want it to stay that way because I don’t want anything about this to change or become too complicated or intruded upon.”

“But it’s senseless to worry about someday not being happy when I am happy now,” she concluded. “OK. Breathe.”

But Swift wasn’t always so sure about love being real — especially when it came to Valentine’s Day.

“I somehow feel like it’s my destiny to roll my eyes at happy couples and resent Valentine’s Day. I also feel like I’m the girl before ‘the one.’ I’m not ‘the one,’” she wrote at 19. “I’m the girl you think is the one for you, and when it doesn’t work out with me, you meet the next girl and realize she IS the one.”

And as a mere 13 year old, she imagined the first time she’d have her first kiss — and about being “such a romantic.”

“I just dream about looking into someone’s eyes and feeling something I’ve never felt before, you know?” she wrote. “I just never was able to put a face to my fantacy [sic]. But something tells me that my first kiss is really far away from happening!”

Photo:  LARRY BUSACCA/WIREIMAGE

The Night Before...

Before the 2014 Grammy Awards, Swift was confident her album Red would take home the biggest award of the night.

“It’s the middle of the night and I was at the Clive Davis party tonight which means… the Grammys are tomorrow,” she wrote. “Never have I felt so good about our chances. Never have I wanted something so badly as I want to hear them say ‘Red’ is the Album of the Year.”

Though she was up for four awards that year, Swift would head home empty handed.

Though she had won that award two years prior with Fearless, it wouldn’t be until her 2014 album 1989 that she’d take home the coveted prize again. In her 13-year career, Swift has won 10 Grammys from 32 nominations.

Photo:  MICHAEL LOCCISANO/FILMMAGIC

“This Might Be Worth Money Someday”

Though her diary entries are filled with some insight into the more complicated times in her life, the entries also feature some cute memories of her youth — including her middle school class schedule, some song lyrics and memories about listening to Sugarland for the first time.

Accompanied by drawings and the number 13, in her first journal entry, she signs her name and writes “(That could be worth money someday!! Just kidding hehe).”

Under “Journal #1,” a 13-year-old Swift writes a poem: “The world is as big as you make it / Never be shameful to fly / When a chance comes you should take it / May you never be scared of goodbye…”

After performing at a school talent show, Swift wrote: “I ❤ SCHOOL!”

Reminiscing on the grand day, Swift wrote, “I got a standing ovation and everything.”

People

[drkreviews]

🎄Album Selection of 2017 | January🎄

Happy Holidays, readers! As happened for the past two years, even this year there will be our album selection on Darkest Reviews! This year has been relevant, composed of great returns and new explosions, especially from bands come out last year. The variety of genres here featured has been widened, as our picks include even more peculiar genres, defining this time as a balanced preparation for the next year, apparently interesting in its first months; of course, if you don’t agree with the picks, you can comment here and we can discuss about it. And now... let’s start!

Plasticzooms - Plasticzooms (11.01.2017) [★★★★★]

The first month of the year has seen one of the most awaited works by a greatly acclaimed band of the Japanese scene. The darkwave act Plasticzooms has reached a relevant phase of their career, marked by their first European tour and the release of their fourth album, result of the great influence made by Western music. In fact the sound here featured incorporates a lot of pumping electronic notes, with aggressive compositions and beating melodies, sign that the band is widening their horizons and in the right direction.

TRACKLIST

Frontal Attack

The Future

Quite Cleary

Minds

Highway

U12

Night & Hurt

Smoke Motion

Veiled Eyes

Breitenbach (Brevity)

Lament. - Souzou Zentangle (Manicure zentangle) (11.01.2017) [★★★★★]

After several years, the obscure visual kei duo Lament. released their second mini-album, anticipated by a consistent series of notable singles. The release is driven by fascinating and dark rock melodies, alternating melancholic vibes and complex structures, accompained by compelling vocals and an unique technique, which surely raises the quality of this band.

TRACKLIST

Dokuhaku (Monologue)

Zaikyuu (A crime)

Mr.Phantom to parade to shounen (Mr.Phantom, parade and boys)

Rest in Peace

Lily (2017 ver.)

Lost Garden

Mucc - Myakuhaku (Pulse) (27.01.2017) [★★★★★]

This year has been important for a band in particular, as it marked the 20th anniversary of their career. Mucc introduced this chapter of their path with the thirteenth album, a great musical work, result of all the improvements made by the band in the previous months. The sound is variegated and shaped in many ways, from aggressive and chilling themes to nostalgical melodies, synonym of  a mythical band which didn’t fall against the weight of time.

TRACKLIST

Myakuhaku

Zettai zatsumei (Desperate)

Classic

KilleЯ 

Billyx2 -Entwines ROCK STARS-

Ringo (Apple)

EMP

Yue ni matenrou (Therefore, the skyscraper) (Album mix)

Himitsu (Secret)

Commune

Wasurenagusa (Don’t forget)

Sirius

Fuka (Incubation)

Heide (Heath)

ƵMØRA - Ubugoe (First Cry) (04.01.2017) [★★★★★]

One of the new acts come out in this year has been the enigmatic rock band ƵMØRA, led by $ali, known for being the bassist of another fascinating band, IX -Nine-. Composed by Japanese and Polish musicians, this band kicked off their debut album, a really big surprise. The charismatic female vocals perfectly intertwine in the mysterious and energetic rock sound delivered by this band, which might become a sure winner for true amateurs and not only.

TRACKLIST

Mama (As it is)

Collapsar

Witchcraft

Sakura

Kirameki (Sparkle)

Fishtail

Amnesia

Restless

Izanagi

Podróż Do śmierci (Journey to death)

Soan Project with Akuta - Doukoku wo kodou to shite michi to suru oto (Sound to make roads beating as weeping) (18.01.2017) [★★★★]

After Moran has disbanded two years ago, the drummer Soan decided to start a project of his own, accompaining himself with relevant vocalists. The debut mini-album sees the emerging talent of Akuta, famous as singer of the band Chanty, who drives melancholic and intense themes with a convincing performance, giving up a brilliant beginning for this new project.

TRACKLIST

Futashikana hakoniwa (Uncertain miniature garden)

Hedatsu kyokou tsumugu shinjitsu to doukei (Spinning fictitious truth and longing)

Toukamaku (Permeable membrane)

Arrive

Hysteria show time

-HONORABLE MENTION-

Aoki Yutaka - Lost in Forest (18.01.2017)

The first mention of this month goes to the solo project created by Aoki Yutaka, known for being the guitarist of Downy. His debut work is quite hard to decipher at all, but when you start to go through its own vibe, you will be attracted to this dark album. The peculiar sound surrounding each track creates a distinctive atmosphere during the listening and accompained by artists like Morrie, Sugizo or Kaoru from Dir en Grey, the final result becomes even better than expected.

TRACKLIST

I am Lost (ft.Morrie)

Open the Gate (ft. Morrie)

851

Waltz of the Bugs

Fury

Missing

Witch Hunt (ft. Kaoru)

Im Wald (In the forest)

Ghosts in the Mist

Gryphon/Burn the Tree

Cave

“B”

Colling (ft. Morrie)

Shape of Death (ft. Sugizo)

Zonbi - Bokura wa minna shinderu (We are all dead) (04.01.2017)

The second mention is for the young visual kei band Zonbi, who released several singles and EPs in the past years. Finally they got out their first album, gathering all their single-tracks (even the live-limited ones) and building up their image around them. The band shows off its personal approach to the genre, with freaking and electronic melodies, fresh vocals and a good instrumental balance, making them more promising than what seen in the early days.

TRACKLIST

Undead Hero

Yamiyo e no serenade (Dark night serenade)

Kusarihime (Rotting princess)

Koukyoku daikuban “Mayonaka no dai ni ongakushitsu” (Symphony no.9 “Second Music Room at Midnight”)

Hakaba de love song (Love song graveyard)

Abnormal Therapy

Yonchoume apart satsugaijiken (Yonchome apartment murder)

Living Dead March

21seiki no seishinjousha (Psychotic disorder in 21st century)

Yuuyami koushinkyoku (Dusk march)

Madame Florence no jintai chouri kouza (Madam Florence’s human cooking course)

Shineba ii noni. (I wish I could die.)

Makkura (Puffy)

Band-Maid - Just Bring It (11.01.2017)

The final mention is for one of the most acclaimed Japanese rock acts of recent times, thanks to a fascinating concept mixed to an unique energy. In their fourth album, the first major release for them, they unleashed their style, with engaging themes, with a bit of virtuosism, and a passionate vocal interpretation, bringing them to a meaningful fame; in fact they had their first world tour for promoting the release of this album and we can hope that they will become even better.

TRACKLIST

Don’t you tell ME

Puzzle

Moratorium

YOLO

Cross

OOPArts

Take Me Higher!!

So, What?

Time

You.

Awkward

Decided by Myself

Secret My Lips

TO BE CONTINUED...

[chalantness]

Let It Snow - day thirty

(for my “season of shipping” giveaway)

Rating: PG-13 Word Count: ~1,600 Characters: Steve/Natasha + Bucky/Wanda + Sam/Sharon Prompt: gift-giving

For: an anon

A/N: Last time I wrote about the girls so now it’s time for the boys!

Read on: [ ao3 ]

“So,” someone says, and Steve glances over his shoulder as Sam walks up to him at the bar, sliding his emptied tumbler onto the counter. “Pregnant, huh?”

Steve feels his heart sort of jump in his chest, a smile tugging at his lips before he can quite catch himself. Not that he’d want to. Ever since he’d learned that Natasha was pregnant – pregnant – he hasn’t been able to wipe the grin off of his face. He remembers almost a lifetime ago when he wanted things like a wife and a house and kids with wide, bright eyes and toothy smiles. Even when he woke up in a new time, in a new world, with an entirely different life, part of him still hoped for that dream, and maybe that had been part of why he had such a hard time adjusting. He was stuck decades in the past, clinging onto a dream he knows (now, at least) he wasn’t opening himself up to. He wanted it, but he didn’t want to try.

He was terrified of having the ground yanked out from underneath him again. He was terrified of going under.

But then Natasha knocked him on his ass, and, well. That had been exactly what he needed.

He has always found her beautiful, of course. But in that way that seemed distant, like something he would always admire, but never quite have for himself. She had those big, bright eyes that drew him in, and that soft laugh that made his breath catch, and that secret little smile that made him feel like he wasn’t so out of place.

Like maybe he’d come to this time for a reason.

He remembers, too, the night that he felt like he could make a new life for himself. That night when Tony had them over at the penthouse, for another one of his dinner parties Steve didn’t see the need for. But they were fun, especially when he could see Natasha so at ease, lounging on the couch and sipping on some fruity drink he knew she hated but still drank because Pepper put it in her hand. They crashed at the penthouse that night, and Nat, with her cheeks flushed and her eyelids a little heavy and that little grin of hers, had tugged him onto the bed with her, laid on her back and stared up at the ceiling with this faraway look in her eyes as she told him what the Red Room had done to her. What it had taken from her.

He never thought a smile could look so beautiful and bittersweet at the same time, but hers did. And he couldn’t remember the last time his chest had felt so tight.

She’d drifted off to sleep before he could say anything, and he laid there beside her, listening to her steady breaths. He wondered what it would feel like to have something taken from him before he realized he wanted it. Maybe his dream felt less like his with every passing day, but he could still have it, if he wanted. He could have a lovely wife and a white picket fence and kids running around the front yard. He could. But, lying beside Natasha, her words still lingering in his head, he realized that maybe he finally moved on. He finally let go of the past.

He didn’t need it anymore. Not the way he needed Natasha.

“It’s crazy to think about,” Steve admits to Sam, leaning against the bar as he looks across the room at Natasha. She’s sitting on the couch with Wanda, the two of them laughing, and Bucky is standing behind Wanda with his hands massaging her shoulders, maybe the happiest Steve has seen his friend.

His best friend and his fiancé, and his wife, pregnant with their child, chatting like they’d been old friends. Like they were meant to come into each other’s lives all along.

“You two deserve it, man,” Sam says, giving Steve’s shoulder a squeeze. “She looks so happy.”

“She is,” Steve says, grinning a little wider. He knows part of Natasha is still in a bit of a daze over the situation – over the fact that she was able to conceive at all – but they’re just taking each day as it comes. For once, he thinks, neither of them is all that worried about the future. “We both are.” Arching an eyebrow, he adds, “It’s your turn, you know.”

“What?”

“Nat’s pregnant, Buck and Wanda are engaged.” Steve’s lips quirk at the corners. “You and Sharon are the next in line to do something big.”

“Maybe we’ll elope,” a voice chimes in, and Sam laughs as Sharon comes up beside him, tucking her hand into the bend of his elbow as she kisses his cheek. “Hi.”

“Hello there,” Sam says. “I hope you know if we elope, babe, your best friends are going to come after me.”

“I’ll protect you,” she promises with a cheeky smile, and Sam says, “yeah, you will,” before leaning in for another kiss, this time on her lips, and Steve sort of chuckles as he glances away to give them some privacy.

He turns to find Natasha waltzing up to him, with Wanda and Bucky following behind her, Bucky’s arm slung over Wanda’s shoulder and Wanda giggling as he whispers something into her ear. Nat has that smile of hers that’s somehow sweet and incredibly sexy at the same time, and, fuck. Steve hopes he always gets that tingle that slides down his spine whenever she walks his way. “Hi, beautiful,” he says, grasping her hip and drawing her close. He slants his lips over hers as his other hand slides between them, flattening over her stomach.

“Hey, soldier.” Her voice is soft and breathy, and he kisses her a little harder, deeper, pressing his palm more firmly against her stomach. “Steve,” she laughs. “Stop.”

“Can’t help it.” He smooths his fingertips over the silky material of her dress, sliding his hand up her side, to her tiny waist.

“Okay, okay,” Bucky cuts in with a feigned groan, half-heartedly tugging Natasha back to break their kiss, and, instinctively, Steve draws her to his chest. Bucky looks totally smug as he shakes his head at them. “We’re still in a public place, you know. We don’t need to see a reenactment of how you knocked her up.”

“James,” Wanda says, holding a hand over his mouth. He kisses her palm and then tugs it away, dropping another kiss onto her temple, and she shakes her head with a grin.

“Did your friend tell you the big news?” Natasha asks Steve, glancing at Sharon and Sam with a smile.

Sam opens his mouth to answer, but before he can, Wanda practically bursts out, “He asked Sharon to move in with him!”

Sharon giggles, and Sam is practically beaming when Steve says, one eyebrow raised, “He left that little detail out, actually.” Sam shrugs a shoulder and Steve reaches over to give his shoulder a squeeze. “Congratulations, you two. I’m almost too touched to be pissed that you didn’t tell me first even though I told you about Bucky’s gift for Wanda.”

Natasha shoots him a glare. “You knew about Wanda’s kitten and you didn’t tell me?”

Steve laughs, smoothing his hand over her back. “Love, you’re terrible at keeping secrets from your best friends. You’re a sucker for her pout.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, her lips twitching at the corners in a smile, and Wanda giggles as she tells her, “If it makes you feel better, Nat, Steve is even worse than you. I barely even had to bat an eyelash for him to tell me about your trip to Russia.”

“What?” Natasha asks, arching an eyebrow at Steve. Wanda’s eyes go a little wide as her gaze snaps onto Steve’s, and he just laughs again, shaking his head. “What trip?”

He can tell Wanda’s about to start apologizing, so he just tugs her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re fine, darling. It’s more fun telling her this way.” Wanda shrugs her shoulders cutely, tucking herself into Bucky’s chest, and Steve grasps Natasha’s chin with his fingers and tips her head up to hold his gaze. She blinks up at him, her eyes big and bright and sparkling as she waits for him. “I planned a trip to Russia for us, if you’d like to go,” he tells her, stroking his thumb over the apple of her cheek, relishing in the feel of her flushed skin under his touch. “I know not every memory is going to be great, but it’s still a part of who you are, and it’ll be part of our child, too. And that’s enough for me to love it.”

“Steve.” She blinks once, twice, three times, her eyelashes dotting with the tears he knows she’s trying to hold back. “Fuck, if you make me cry, I swear.”

He laughs, wrapping his arms around her and tucking her face into his neck. “You can blame it on the pregnancy hormones,” he whispers into her ear, and he knows their friends are watching them, but all he doesn’t care. All that matters is Natasha. “I promise I won’t tell.”

She breathes out a laugh against his neck, tipping her head up to meet his gaze. “You might not love Russia,” she says, and he grins because he knows she’s mostly teasing.

“I will,” he promises, sliding his hand between them again, smoothing it over the flat of her stomach. She blinks up at him, her smile bright and brilliant and beautiful, and he wonders if he’s imagining the way her stomach flutters ever so slightly under his touch. “There’s no part of you I’m not in love with.”

[chalantness]

Let It Snow - day fourteen

(for my “season of shipping” giveaway)

Rating: PG-13 Word Count: ~1,700 Characters: Steve/Natasha Prompt: “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” + Steve is a soldier coming home to a worried and waiting Nat

For: @emily-is-fangirling

A/N: I watched too many soldiers-coming-home videos on YouTube for this prompt so curse you for making me cry so hard but also thank you.

Read on: [ ao3 ]

She knows he’s coming home, of course. She just doesn’t know he’s coming home today.

She’s going to hate it, too. She always says she hates it when he makes her all emotional and choked up, but, shit. How could he not surprise her?

He’s been away for a year and a half now and it’s tough. He’s not going to lie. He knows he’d never go back and make another choice, because serving his country is what he’s always wanted to do. Not even when his mom cried and said that she didn’t want to lose her baby boy the same way she lost her husband did Steve change his mind. He thought about it a little harder, but his choice had been the same. It sucked, and he knows she’ll never, ever hold it against him, but he broke her heart a little bit when he left. She tells him that she’s proud of him every single time they talk, and he believes it, but she’s a mom. She’s always going to want her baby home safe and sound before anything else. He loves her for it, too.

He loves her even more for moving closer Nat and James. She’s lived in the same apartment in Brooklyn forever, but the moment he told her about Natasha, and about Natasha being pregnant, his mom packed up and moved just to be five minutes away, just in case.

“Do you think she’ll cry?”

Steve chuckles over the phone even as his chest does this stupid little squeeze, thinking about Natasha and those big, bright eyes of hers welling with tears. She’ll probably bite her lip the way she always does when she doesn’t want to cry. He thinks that she’ll probably hold her breath a little when she sees him for the first time in over a year and—

“Yeah, I think she will,” Steve tells his mom over the line. He must be grinning like an idiot when he says it, because beside him, Bucky chuckles softly and shakes his head.

Natasha teaches at this ridiculously prestigious ballet school in the city, and he knows she’ll be in the middle of rehearsal when the bus drops them off, because his mom told him. He thought about waiting for them to be done before he dropped by, but he knows he can’t be in the same city as Natasha and not want to see her right away. He can’t. Their show is just two weeks away and rehearsals are probably crucial right about now and he gets it. But also, he misses his wife and doesn’t think anyone will mind him snatching her away a little early.

Plus, his took James out for the day, and Steve isn’t about to waste a second of time alone to catch up with his wife.

Bucky is grinning at him after he hangs up with his mom, and, in the row in front, Sam and Clint turn in their seats. “Stop holding out on us, man,” Sam says, and Steve laughs, pulls up the picture his mom sent of James and turns his screen for them to see.

“God, he’s like a carbon copy of you,” Bucky says in this low, awed sort of tone. “Look at that nose.”

“Look at those eyes,” Clint laughs as Sam takes Steve’s phone and zooms in on the photo. “I didn’t think your perfect shade of blue could be replicated.”

“I always knew you loved my eyes, man,” Steve quips.

Sam chuckles and shakes his head, swiping to the next one, his smile softening when he sees it. “That’s a nice one,” he says, handing the phone back to Steve, and Steve can’t help the way his stomach flips when he sees the photo. It’s the one his mom sent him just the other day, of Natasha and James at the park when they went on a picnic. Natasha’s wearing this pale yellow sundress that he knows she loves more than she’ll admit, laying on the grass with James sitting on her stomach, his smile bright and his tiny hands filled with flowers.

It’s crazy to think about how different his life would be without these two in it. How different it would be if he’d never kissed her at that diner at two in the morning.

She always talks about how cheesy their story is, but he loves it. He does. They met on their very first day of high school and it changed just about everything, slowly but surely. Because he thinks part of him knew, even back then, that Natasha was it. That she was the one. And he thinks that she felt that same way, too.

No, he knows that she did. Maybe they never really talked about it, and maybe that’s because they were too terrified about losing their friendship to take the risk, but it was always there. He felt it in the way his chest felt tight and warm whenever she crowded his space, whenever she blinked those ridiculously long eyelashes at him and quirked her lips and told the most horrendous joke he’d ever heard, just to get him to laugh. He felt it in the way she always got this look in her eyes when she asked how his dates went, how her eyes got a little bit brighter whenever she caught his gaze across the room. How she always looked a little heartbroken whenever he talked about enlisting and training and serving his country.

And he wasn’t about to leave without at least trying. He wanted to know what it was like to kiss her, wanted to know how soft her lips felt, if she’d make some little sound, if she’d kiss him back. And she did. He still remembers the taste of her strawberry milkshake on her tongue, and the little whimper she let out when he nipped her lip.

She let out that same whimper when he kissed her after he’d proposed, and again when he’d lifted her in her big, white dress and pressed their lips together.

Fuck, he can’t wait to see her.

... ...

He picks up the bouquet that his mom called in for him at the florist down the street from the school, and yeah, he knows he’s drawing stares with his uniform and his military duffle slung over his shoulder. It’s something he’d never really gotten used to, and he still doesn’t know what to say when people get all flustered around him or thank him all the time. It’s always flattering and he appreciates it, of course, but it’s not like he enlisted for the recognition. He could’ve changed into his civvies on the bus, but it’s really not that big of a deal.

And, honestly? He doesn’t even care about what he’s wearing when he walks into that studio. He doesn’t care about anything that isn’t her.

She hasn’t seen him just yet, which is kind of ridiculous considering they’re in a room full of mirrors, but she’s just so lost in her routine and he fucking loves to just watch her like this. She’s just in leggings and his loose shirt that falls off of her shoulder, and her hair is already falling out of her bun, but she’s still the most gorgeous person he’s ever laid eyes on.

There are a group of little girls that he knows are in the show (Natasha’s been training them herself and showed him pictures and everything, because she’s so proud of them) and a few instructors he knows he probably met before he left, and they all sort of gasp when Phil Coulson steps aside so he can walk into the room. It draws Natasha’s attention, of course, as she comes out of a twirl, catching his gaze in the reflection, and her entire body just stops. Her cheeks are flushed and her lips are parted and he swears she’s holding her breath.

He smiles at her, taking a step closer, and it seems to snap her out of her surprise, because then she’s turning on the point of her toes and running at him. He’s breathless and laughing as he catches her, only barely remembering not to completely crush the bouquet he’s still holding onto.

She’s got her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck and her head buried into his neck, wetting his skin with tears. He’d tease her about it, because it’s their thing, and also because he loves being the only person she’s ever cried for. (Well, other than James.) Except he’s totally choked up, too, and his eyes are blurry and stinging like crazy.

He’s missed her so much. He’s missed her so much.

He’s missed her scent, missed her warmth, her voice. He’s missed the way they fit together so perfectly. He’s missed waking up to her and falling asleep next to her and watching her with James, listening to their laughs together, catching the look of total contentment that passes over her face when Steve’s holding onto the both of them.

“Fuck,” she breathes as she leans away, just far enough for her to see her face. Her eyes are wet and her eyelashes are dotted with tears, and she wipes at her cheeks with the backs of her hands, letting out a breathy, shaky sort of laugh, like she feels silly right now. Then she catches his gaze, and her entire expressions brightens even more, if possible. “Hi.”

His heart actually skips.

“Ma’am.” His voice comes out chokes and shitty, but he doesn’t care, not even a little. She looks so happy, even as she makes this little face and reaches around her, pulling the bouquet from his hand. Okay, so maybe it’s a little matted on one side now because he’d hugged her so tight, but whatever.

“You brought me flowers for your homecoming?” she asks, totally grinning. He shrugs a shoulder and she lets out a laugh. “You’re such a dork.”

“Well, I’m your dork, and you’re stuck with me,” he says, and he’d meant it to be teasing (well, mostly teasing). But then Natasha’s eyes get soft and misty all over again, and she swallows lightly, bunching the material of his military uniform between her fingers.

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he echoes, and she kisses him again, letting out that perfect little whimper of hers when he nips at her lower lip. And with that one little sound, everything feels like it falls back into place.

[chalantness]

Let It Snow - day twenty-eight

(for my “season of shipping” giveaway)

Rating: PG-13 Word Count: ~2,300 Characters: Steve/Natasha Prompt: the Avengers meddling with mistletoe

For: an anon

A/N: My mind totally skipped over the part where you said they were at the Avengers Facility, so this takes place at the Barton House! Oops.

Read on: [ ao3 ]

“Whoa, where’re you heading, buddy?”

Natasha turns her head to watch as little Nathan very nearly crashes into Steve’s legs when Steve rounds the corner into the living room. Steve scoops Nathan up, gripping him firmly and lifting him above his head in that way that always makes the kid burst into giggles. Nathan flails in delight, babbling what Natasha assumes is supposed to be an airplane noise, and Steve’s laughing as he brings Nathan back down, holding the kid at his hip. Fuck. Natasha knows she’s smiling too widely, but whatever. She hates sharing her godson with anyone, but Steve and Nathan are always too damn cute together that she lets it slide. Plus, she quite appreciates the view of Steve cuddling tiny little Nathan against one of his broad shoulders.

Nathan’s got something balled up in his little fist, but he uses his other one to point at where Natasha is sitting on the couch. “Nat!”

Steve catches her gaze, grins that boyish grin of his. Natasha ignores the stupid little flip her stomach does. “Yeah, that’s Auntie Nat,” Steve tells Nathan.

He shakes his head, points again and says, more insistently, “Nat!”

“You want to go to her?” Steve asks. Nathan nods, but as soon as Steve tries to put him down, Nathan makes a noise of protest and tugs on Steve’s sleeve in that way he does when he wants to keep being carried. Steve laughs and shakes his head, says, “Alright, buddy,” as he heads toward the couch.

Nathan’s face totally lights up when Natasha smiles at him, and he all but jumps out of Steve’s arms and into hers as soon as he’s close enough. Natasha hugs him close, presses a wet, sloppy kiss to his cheek, making the kid burst into another fit of giggles. She catches Steve’s gaze as he settles onto the couch beside her, his arm brushing against hers.

“What’s in your hand, Nathan?” Natasha asks, because he’s got his fist around a bundle of something Natasha is vaguely certain is a plant. Weird. She knows for sure that the kids haven’t gone outside tonight.

“Show Auntie Nat and Uncle Steve what you’ve got,” Clint’s voice chimes in as Clint comes in from the front porch, holding a plate of grilled steaks. There’s a touch of amusement tugging at the edges of his smile, and Natasha narrows her eyes ever so slightly before glancing down at Nathan’s fist as he opens his hand for her to see.

Mistletoe.

Somehow, she’s not surprised.

Steve blinks, his expression frustratingly blank for a moment, before he catches Natasha’s gaze and smiles. She hates that that’s all it takes and suddenly her irritation at Clint is gone.

“Kiss!” Nathan tells Steve, waving the mistletoe at Natasha.

Natasha glares at Clint and the guy looks too damn pleased with himself as he laughs. “You heard the kid!”

She rolls her eyes, glancing at Steve, who has that crooked, boyish smile of his that she loves more than she’ll ever admit. “You heard the kid,” he repeats, tucking a hand into her hair. She grins, too, ignoring the tug in her chest as he leans in and slants his lips over hers.

He kisses her, soft and slow and sweet, and she feels herself lean in ever so slightly as his thumb smooths over the apple of her cheek. Her lips remember how his kiss felt on that escalator years ago, remembers the way he followed her lead, but this is different. This time she’s the one taken by surprise, and he’s guiding her closer, taking the lead.

Nathan bursts into giggles, making her flinch back in surprise, blinking, barely catching the way Steve glances at her lips before looking away.

“That’s my boy,” Clint laughs, and Nathan slides off of Natasha’s lap and follows his dad out of the room, still waving the bundle of mistletoe around in his hand.

“Now are you regretting Laura’s invitation to spend the holidays here?” Natasha asks as she turns to Steve, willing her voice to be nonchalant despite the way her pulse has seemed to pick up, just a little.

Steve chuckles and shakes his head. “Nah.” He licks his lips, giving her a dimpled smile. “It’ll be fun.”

... ...

“Steve, please,” Laura says with a bit of a laugh, trying to reach for Steve’s arm as he goes to pick up her plate. “Sit down. I’ll help Nat clear the table.”

“Just because I’m a guest doesn’t mean you have to wait on me, Laura. Let me help. Besides,” he adds, balancing the stack of dinner plates in one hand as he walks by Nathan in his high chair, using his free hand to ruffle his hair, “this guy will probably need all of your expert cleaning skills since he got most of his dinner on his shirt. Didn’t you, buddy?”

Nathan laughs, and Clint says, “At least he’s offering to help out. Unlike these lazy asses over here,” and nods his head at where Sam, Wanda, and Pietro are sitting at the table. Wanda blinks, sticking her lip out in a pout, and Clint feigns a groan. “Fine! Except for Wanda. You’re just as bad as Lilia, you know that, kid?”

“Dad!” Lila exclaims, and Wanda giggles and shakes her head.

Natasha feels herself smiling as she walks over to the sink, setting her stack of dishes in the sink and twisting on the faucet. Steve comes up behind her, passes his hand over the small of her back in a gesture that’s always sort of been theirs – something subtle and comforting. She can’t really remember how it started, but now she’s almost come to expect it when he walks by her, giving her a small, dimpled smile. He sets his plates down on the counter, opens the dishwasher and pulls the top rack open for her as she starts rinsing off the dishes.

They fall into a comfortable silence as she scrubs the plates off and hands them over for him to load, but after a moment, Steve says, voice soft, “I’m glad you’ve had Clint and Laura.”

She pauses, glancing up at him. He’s smiling but there’s something – different just behind his eyes. Something that makes her heart stutter ever so slightly.

“Where’s this coming from?”

“Nowhere,” he says with a bit of a chuckle. “It’s just that seeing you here with them and the kids is nice. I know you never really knew your parents, but at least you have them now.”

“Steve,” she says, her chest tightening, just a little. “You have them, too. Why else would you be here?”

“I’m here because of you.” He gives her a dimpled smile, his eyes shining, and she swears she almost holds her breath. “But I guess I’ve always kind of had you.”

Her lips part, tugging into a smile before she can catch herself. She doesn’t know what the hell anyone is supposed to say to that (damn Rogers and his damn mouth) but before she can even come up with a response, Sam interrupts, his voice calling out across the room from the table: “Hey Cap, head’s up!”

She glances up as Steve does, finding a bundle of mistletoe tied from the ceiling above their heads, and she knows for damn sure that hadn’t been there during dinner.

She turns to look at the table at Wanda, and though her smile seems innocent enough, she catches the tendrils of red light disappearing as the girl drums her fingertips atop the table. Natasha arches an eyebrow and the girl’s smile brightens. Natasha isn’t sure if she should be proud or annoyed. (Well, no. She’s pretty damn proud of how sly the girl has become.)

Steve breathes out a laugh, glancing at her lips again before catching her gaze, his eyes twinkling as he realizes that she’s caught him.

“What’s the matter, soldier?” She tilts her head. “You scared of a dame like me?”

“Well, you are pretty damn terrifying,” he teases, catching her wrist swiftly when she goes to swat his arm, taking a step closer and hovering his lips over hers.

He kisses her harder this time, deeper, letting out a very low groan before swiping his tongue over the seam of her lips. She feels her breath catch in her throat, her lips parting, and he slides his tongue against hers and groans a little louder. She knows Steve, and she knows that part of this is because he’s being a little shit and putting on a show for their friends.

But she wonders how much of this is what he wants, too. He wonders if he’s still buzzing from their kiss earlier just like she is.

She doesn’t even realize that the glass she’s holding in her other hand is slipping from her fingers until she feels a burst of wind, and suddenly she’s stumbling back a little as Pietro slides between her and Steve, catching the glass before it can hit the ground.

He hands it to Natasha, his expression bright and smug, and Natasha laughs a little as she rolls her eyes, setting the glass in the dishwasher. Steve catches her gaze, giving her a dimpled grin, and she can feel her pulse still racing as Pietro turns on his heels and says to the others, “Let’s give them some alone time, shall we?”

... ...

“Mistletoe,” a voice chimes, and Natasha glances over her shoulder at the doorframe leading into the den, finding a bundle of mistletoe dangling overhead. Laura beams at little Nathan in Natasha’s arms as she walks past, carrying an armful of sheets for the fort that the kids want to build, and behind her, Steve is carrying about a dozen pillows.

Natasha laughs, arching an eyebrow. “You too, Laura?”

Laura ignores her. “Give Auntie Nat a kiss, Nathan,” she tells him, kissing one of Natasha’s cheeks, and Nathan giggles, kissing the other. Then Laura grins at Steve. “Your turn.”

Steve chuckles but complies, taking a step forward and leaning in to press his lips over hers. It’s a rather chaste kiss, short but sweet, but his lips linger over hers for a moment longer as if he’s not quite ready to pull away. She’s not sure why her heart is skipping in her chest, why her cheeks feel a little flushed and her chest feels a little tight. Maybe it’s because he’s kissing her while she’s holding little Nathan, and there’s something incredibly domestic about the whole thing, and it’s kind of scary how nothing about this moment feels out of place.

She wonders if Steve feels it, too, because he lets out this sharp, shallow breath as he leans away, his stare heavy, practically pressing into her skin.

Nathan squirms in her arms, wanting to get down, and it takes a moment longer for her to actually tear her gaze from Steve so she can set him on his feet. Laura looks entirely too pleased with herself as she turns to follow Nathan into the den, and Natasha licks her lips, not quite catching her breath.

“You alright there, Romanoff?”

She breathes out a laugh, her heart still thrumming in her chest as she turns to look at him. Fuck. It’s ridiculous how much she loves that boyish smile of his.

“Yeah, Rogers,” she tells him, taking a few pillows from his arms and feeling herself grin. “I’m fine.”

... ...

She doesn’t remember falling asleep, and she certainly doesn’t remember falling asleep on top of Steve, sort of burrowed against his chest. She’s warm, of course, because Steve has always had this ridiculous amount of body heat, and also because he must’ve tucked up a fleece blanket around her shoulders when she’d fallen asleep. She glances across the den at where everyone is sprawled out in a tangle of blankets and sheets and pillows on the floor, with Nathan and Laura cuddled together on the couch. The kids had been the one to insist in camping out by the tree so they could open presents in the morning, and though she knows they would’ve rather slept in the beds Laura prepped, none of them could say no, either.

Her legs are tangled with Steve, his arm wrapped around her waist and his grip comforting and firm, even in his sleep. She shifts, braces herself on her elbow as she glances at his face in the dim glow of the twinkling tree lights. She feels her heartbeat pick up, feels her cheeks warm.

As if sensing that she’s awake, he starts to stir underneath her, his arm wrapping a little tighter around her waist, holding her a little closer. Her heart stutters. She knows she should look away, maybe pretend to go back to sleep, because she can feel the haze of sleep still tugging at her, and she’s not quite sure if she can catch herself in this moment.

She’s not quite sure if she wants to, either.

He blinks his eyes open, getting this adorable wrinkle in his forehead as he opens his eyes, squinting as they adjust to the dark.

And then, when he sees her face, his entire expression eases, and her breath gets caught in her throat. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen him look so serene, look so content, and she’s certain she’s never seen him gaze at her with such open adoration. There’s really no other way to describe it.

“Hey,” he says, voice raspy with sleep, and she feels a tingle slide down her spine as his hand smooths up from her waist and into her hair, cupping the back of her neck.

“Hi.” Her voice is soft, even to her own ears. Part of her is almost afraid to say anything, but a bigger part of her knows that she shouldn’t be. That she’s never been. “There isn’t any mistletoe around.”

His eyes are sparkling, because of course he knows what she’s really saying. “Can I still get a kiss from you, anyway?”

She breathes out a laugh, and she thinks she should feel a little terrified about how much she craves his kiss right now, but then he’s guiding her lips over his and she can’t think of anything else but him.

[chalantness]

Let It Snow - day eighteen

(for my “season of shipping” giveaway)

Rating: PG-13 Word Count: ~1,400 Characters: Steve/Natasha Prompt: Natasha telling Steve that she’s pregnant

For: @loictalon

A/N: I swear, I’ve written half a dozen variations of Natasha telling Steve she’s pregnant, and I love every single one of them.

Read on: [ ao3 ]

The first time she’d tried, they were standing in the checkout line at the store, and Steve, of course, had caught the attention of the little boy sitting in the cart in front of them. His eyes had been big and bright and crazy blue, and when Natasha asked Steve if he thought their kid would have those eyes, he chuckled and said that hers were the prettiest.

The second time she attempted to be less subtle. Steve had caught her watching Tony and Pepper with little Nikki at a party, and Natasha had wrapped his arms around her from behind, his hands sliding over her stomach, and said, “That’ll be us.” But Steve had just murmured, “Yeah, it will,” and kissed her rather deep and dirty in the middle of the ballroom.

So. She may have forgotten to press the matter after that.

The third time hadn’t necessarily been planned. She’d blamed Steve, of course, and the fact that he decided that he wanted to be a fucking tease all night when they’d been out at a charity gala, so she really had no choice but to throw him through their front door the moment they got home and rip him out of his ridiculously tight dress shirt. He had at least made up for being such a shit by making love to her against the front door, then bent over the breakfast bar, then spread out on the kitchen island, then in the middle of the hallway floor.

By the time they’d made it onto the bed, she was sweaty and sticky, and Steve had been teasing his tongue against the marks he’d bitten into the column of her neck. She didn’t quite realize what she’d been saying when she murmured, “With how many times we’ve had sex, I should’ve been pregnant six times over by now.”

Steve had just laughed, bright and breathy right over her pulse, no doubt dismissing her words over the fact that he’d probably fucked her senseless. (Which, he had.)

The fourth try?

She’s hoping it’s the last try. And honestly, she’s kind of pissed that it’s taking him so damn long to catch onto it. She’s turned down several drinks in front of him whenever they’re making appearances at events, or when one of their friends insists on getting something for her from the bar when they’re out for dinner. She’s had morning sickness for at least a week and a half by now (which sucks, no doubt, but isn’t as completely shitty as she’d anticipated; even Pepper had it pretty rough with her nausea in the first month). She’s had a handful of headaches, and has gotten dizzy a few times, over simple maneuvers on the training mats that she can do with her eyes closed. And it’s not like Steve hasn’t notice this.

He just thinks that she’s getting sick, or caught some sort of bug. Her being pregnant probably isn’t a genuine possibility in his mind, and honestly? It hadn’t been hers, either.

She’d asked Helen and Bruce to run a few tests on her after about a week of morning sickness, just to see what the hell was going on. She didn’t feel sick, and no amount of medicine had seemed to ease any of her symptoms.

She actually laughed when Helen told her that she was pregnant. Until two seconds later, when she saw that Helen and Bruce were completely serious.

She had never wanted to be with Steve more than she had in that moment. Not that she could’ve, because she hadn’t even said anything to him, and he’d been halfway across the country in the middle of a five-day mission with Sam. But he’d know exactly what to say, how to help her take everything in. How to process that, somehow, even after the Red Room and the sterilization and all of the trauma, her body had managed to conceive life. How to process that she was going to be a mother, and that there was a baby growing inside of her.

She’d gone home that night, wanting to burrow herself into Steve’s chest and his muscles and his warmth. She hadn’t cried, exactly, but she had been sort of shaking and her eyes had absolutely teared up as she heated up the lasagna Steve had made for her before he left.

At least she could blame everything on her hormones, and the baby.

Their baby.

Fuck.

“Hey,” he says, grasping her chin with his fingers and tilting her face to his. He’s smiling, of course, but his eyebrows are wrinkled ever so slightly. “You got really quiet all of a sudden.”

She feels her stomach fluttering in anticipation, but she wills her voice to come out steady and teasing when she says, “I’m surprised you even noticed with all of the noise,” and gestures around the cabin loft to all of their friends, laughing and happy and chattering as they’re opening presents. His lips quirk, but he’s still staring at her, expectant. He knows something’s up. He knows her. For some reason, she feels even more choked up. Fucking hormones. “Just open your damn present,” she laughs, wiping at the corner of her eye.

“Nat—”

“Before I cut your hand off, Rogers,” she growls, not an ounce of malice behind her words. He still has that look of concern in his eyes, even as he chuckles and obediently starts ripping at the dinosaur wrapping paper she’d picked out for his gift.

She doesn’t notice she’s holding her breath until he pulls away the tissue paper and holds the sweater up, and she realizes her lungs are starting to burn for air.

He blinks. Once, twice, three times, lips parting – but his face is still sort of blank, tugging at the corners in confusion.

Oh, he’s an asshole. He doesn’t get it. He still doesn’t get it—

“You’re—” He stops himself, like he’s afraid to say the word. No. Like he’s too damn excited to even get it out. His smile is wide and bright and so fucking happy that it – it doesn’t surprise her, exactly, but it makes a breath of laughter burst out of her.

He tackles her to the carpet before she can barely brink, but he’s cradling her, too, so she doesn’t actually hit the ground, and his mouth is against hers, his tongue slipping past her lips as one of his hands comes between them and rests right over her stomach. It flutters under his touch and a tear rolls over her temple and into her hair. She’s shaking, practically trembling, as she brings her hands up to cup his face, and the amused chatter of their friends is nothing but a mild, incoherent murmur of voices somewhere in the back of her head.

Eventually, Steve eases his lips off of hers, pulling away just enough to see her face. And he fucking laughs when he finds her glaring at him.

“A month,” she starts, her voice quivering in barely-contained laughter. “I’ve been trying to tell you for a fucking month, Rogers. What the hell is wrong with you?”

He looks giddy. “I guess the dots did line up.”

“You understand me without me having to say a word sometimes,” she says, and, okay. She’s definitely laughing right now. There’s no way in hell she’s actually upset. “Why weren’t you catching on?”

He opens his mouth, whether to laugh or try to explain, she doesn’t find out, because then Clint says, “Okay, enough with this shit!” and then Steve’s sweater – which had ended up wedged between them – is being yanked away. Natasha turns her head to watch as Clint rolls the thing out, holding it up for everyone else to see.

And then promptly throws it at her face.

“Watch it, man,” Steve jokes (well, half-jokes; she can hear it in his voice) as he pulls the sweater off of her face and sets it aside.

“What the hell?” Clint grumbles as if Steve hadn’t spoken. “You’re pregnant and you told him before the rest of us?”

Their friends all start talking at once, trying to be heard over the other, and she feels Steve’s chest rumble with laughter. She rolls her head to look up at him, staring up into his ridiculously blue, ridiculously loving eyes. “Am I forgiven for being such an oblivious asshole?”

“We’ll see,” she says, and he’s laughing as he slants his lips over hers.

[chalantness]

Let It Snow - day twenty-one

(for my “season of shipping” giveaway)

Rating: M Word Count: ~1,700 Characters: Steve/Natasha Prompt: best friends admitting their feelings for the first time on Christmas + first time on Christmas

For: an anon

A/N: Ironically, I got caught up in the story part and not the smut, so I owe you that!

Read on: [ ao3 ]

“You’re avoiding me.”

No, I’m not, she almost retorts, but she bites on her lower lip instead, curling her fingers a little tighter around the doorknob. She’s spending Christmas alone in her apartment rather than with him and his family in Brooklyn, even though he’d invited her more than once this week, and called her this morning, which she hadn’t answered.

Sometimes Steve lets her get away with not talking about things. She has a feeling that’s not the case right now.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, glancing away from his face, and then back, watching as his expression softens. She knows he can hear it in her voice that something is off with her, and it’s something that she would’ve told him by now. They only met a year ago, but they became close ridiculously fast, because things have always just been natural between them. Even their flirtation had been comfortable, and fun, and something she’s never really had before. She’d only dated a few times, and the fact that she seemed to connect more with Steve over one weekend than any of her boyfriends that she’d dated for months was a topic she tried to avoid. She’s terrible at relationships and she’s not dragging Steve through that, too.

Which is why she’s pissed at herself for wanting him the way that she does. For the way every muscle in her body feels like they’re itching to touch him, every inch of skin itching to be touched by him. For the way her heart does that stupid little flutter when she’s with him, and the way everything feels warm and bright and so fucking perfect when he’s around.

Oh, she’s so screwed.

“You’re lucky it’s a holiday,” he starts, stepping his way past her and into the apartment, “because I’d give you more shit about not answering my calls.”

“Steve—”

But he ignores her and walks over to the coffee table, setting down the stack of presents he’d been balancing in his arm and the large Tupperware of Christmas dinner she knows his mother, Sarah, must’ve set aside for her when he showed up alone. He’s mad at her. Not enough to ignore her, too, but Steve still wouldn’t do that. He’s a much better person than she is, and no matter how annoyed he might be with her, there’s no way he’d actually leave her alone if he thought there might be something to worry about. It’s not as if they spend every single second together, but they talk at least once a day, and most nights, she spends more time at his place than hers. The fact that they’ve talked maybe twice over the last is enough for Steve to tell that something is wrong. And the fact that she hasn’t seen him in person for five days tells him that whatever’s bothering her, it has something to do with him.

“Mom made steak, just the way you like it,” he says after a moment, glancing over his shoulder at her.

She blinks. “Your mom’s never even met me.” Well, other than all of the calls they’ve had over FaceTime, because Steve always leaves his phone lying around. But Sarah had been charmed by her the first time, and now it’s kind of become their thing.

“She remembers when you told her about that steakhouse we went to.” On Valentine’s Day, he doesn’t add, but she can practically feel it weighing the air between them. They’d gone as friends, because everyone else they knew had a significant other to celebrate with. That didn’t stop her heart from flipping when he’d showed up at her door in a suit and a bouquet of yellow roses, just like it isn’t stopping her heart from flipping right now at the memory. “She was really excited to meet you, Nat,” he says, voice soft, as he finally turns to face her.

“I’m sorry,” she says, meaning it, and, fuck. If he keeps looking at her with that gentle, almost apologetic expression, like it’s somehow his fault, she’s going to fucking scream.

“Will you stop apologizing and tell me what’s going on?” He gives her a crooked smile. “Because I miss my best friend, and I’d like her back, please.”

God, he’s such a sap. “It’s nothing. I just – didn’t want to interrupt your Christmas with your family.” She shrugs her shoulders. “I mean, they don’t even know me.”

“Nat, they know all about you, because I talk about you all the time.” He laughs a little, shaking his head. “Our pictures are all over my phone, and I’ve sketched you more times than I could count. You probably talk with my mom once a week. And my dad’s got a trip to Russia half-planned because he wants you to come with us and give us a proper tour.” Smiling a little wider, he takes a step toward her. Not cautious, exactly, but slow enough to give her the chance to step back. But she doesn’t, so he keeps walking until they’re standing right in front of each other, and he grasps her arms above her elbows, giving them a squeeze. She exhales, long and shaky. He furrows his eyebrows. “Is that what this is about? My parents?”

“No,” she says quickly, meeting his eyes. “Not like that, anyway.” She winces. She doesn’t know what she’s saying and it’s pissing her off. “You don’t think it’s too much? That it’ll send the wrong message if you brought me home for Christmas?”

Something flickers in his eyes. Something a little bit like hope. Maybe she’s imagining it. “And what message is that?” he asks.

“That we’re—” She blinks, holding his gaze. It’s soft yet steady and sure, and something in her clicks into place. Her lips part, and his mouth quirks at the corners. “Are we?”

He grasps her face with both of his hands, his fingertips still calloused from all of that sketching he does, and cold from the crisp air outside, but it feels fucking perfect against her flushed skin. He strokes his thumbs over the apples of her cheeks, his smile growing softer and sweeter. “I was kind of hoping we’d be,” he says, his breath warm against her face.

“You never said anything,” she argues weakly, even as a burst of warmth unfurls in her stomach, spreading through her veins. “Not a damn thing, Rogers.”

His laugh ghosts across her skin. She can’t help but smile. “I know you like to shut down when you’re freaked out.” He inches closer, grazing his lips along her jaw, pressing a soft kiss against her skin. “I wanted it to be your call, happen at your pace. So I know you were absolutely sure.”

Despite the hesitance in his voice, his hands are firm as he guides her to the couch, gently guiding her to lay down on the chaise. She sucks in a breath when he lowers himself above her, kissing the shell of her ear. She’s not quite sure how they’d gone from almost arguing to this within seconds, but, like with everything else about Steve Rogers, it feels natural. He fits above her as if they’ve done it for years, teases his lips against her skin like he’s done it a thousand times. Avoiding her lips like he knows just how much she needs him to kiss her.

“You’re the only thing I’m sure about these days,” she says, and it’s a miracle her voice comes out firm, almost casual, even though every other part of her is quickly unraveling at his touch.

He smiles at her – bright and brilliant and so fucking beautiful – and tucks his hand under the hem of her sweater, making her skin tingle.

“Is this going too fast?”

He’s smirking. He’s fucking smirking. Of course he is. Because he still wants her to kiss him first, but instead of it being a question, it’s a challenge.

“It’s not fast enough,” she snaps, smiling way too widely for him to think that she’s actually upset. She hooks her legs around his hips and tugs him by the coat he still hasn’t taken off. If he wants to play this game, then fine. She can play. “You have no idea what I’ve imagined you doing to me on this couch,” she whispers into his ear. He groans out a laugh and dips his head, sucking a kiss into her neck. She’s smiling like an idiot, but she doesn’t care. “Though most of the time, I’m bent over the back of it, or I’ve got you trapped underneath me.”

“Fuck,” he murmurs into her neck, nipping at her pulse. She sucks in a breath, her stomach coiling, tightening. “Maybe you can tell me while I eat you out.”

She stills, feeling him smirk against her skin. “W-What?”

He lifts his head, holding her gaze as he slides lower down her body, hooking his fingers under the waistband of her leggings and tugging them down her hips. She feels a little bit like she can’t breathe as he leans down and kisses the bared skin of the inside of her thigh, peeling away her leggings.

“You can tell me while I eat you out,” he repeats, almost punctuating every word. He’s got that crooked, boyish smile on his face, pulling her leggings off and tossing them onto the carpet. “Because you have no idea how many times I’ve imagined you, just like this, with your legs wrapped around my head, demanding that I make you come.”

Her heart almost stops. It almost literally stops. And, after one, long pause, she manages to ask, “What happened to going too fast, Rogers?”

He chuckles, leans down and presses an open-mouthed kiss to the front of her panties, and she bites her lower lip to stifle her moan. She grips onto the cushions of the couch, digs her nails in and lifts her hips, and of course Steve knows what she wants. He breathes out another chuckle, tugging her panties down her legs and off, tossing them aside. Her legs fall open, and Steve wraps a hand over one of her knees, giving it a squeeze as he spreads her legs a little more. He flicks his eyes up her body to meet her gaze, and he fucking smiles.

God, she loves that smile.

“Don’t forget to use your words, love,” he says, and her heart skips at the endearment like she’s some kind of schoolgirl, but she doesn’t care. Not when he licks a wide stripe up her center.

(When he finally, finally kisses her, she whimpers at the taste of herself on his tongue, and he asks what fantasy she wants to play out next.)

[chalantness]

Let It Snow - day twenty

(for my “season of shipping” giveaway)

Rating: PG-13 Word Count: ~1,100 Characters: Bucky/Wanda Prompt: Wanda telling Bucky that she wants to have a baby

For: @loictalon

A/N: These two are cuter than puppies, and even more so with this prompt!!

Read on: [ ao3 ]

They��ve talked about it before. Well, they’ve talked about it once, the one and only time they’d forgotten protection. It was something that neither of them had realized until moments after, because they’d simply been too impatient, and really, she can’t think of anything when he’s got his lips on her neck like that.

She knew that, once upon a time, she’d wanted to have kids. When she was young, she loved the idea of having a house full of little boys and girls, running around just like she and Pietro used to do, and she’d sit on the patio and watch them the way her parents had. She wanted that. She thinks (knows) that part of her still does, but things are a little different now. She’s not quite sure how much stress the experiments put on her body, if the strain of it all changed something about her, or if it’s dangerous now because of what it had done to her.

James seems confident that it hadn’t, and so is Pietro. And she understands where they’re coming from. Other than her powers, she doesn’t feel very different than before.

But, the thought had still made her nervous, and she knew James could tell, too. Which is why he hadn’t really pushed it much that night. He’d simply promised that she could handle anything, and that he’d be right there with her, and then he’d kissed her again and again and again, until she was shaking and whimpering underneath him.

Things are different now, though.

She remembers how incredibly content Pepper had been during her pregnancy. How Natasha had been nervous, but overwhelmingly happy, the moment she’d found out that she was pregnant.

She sees Tony and Pepper with Baby Nikki, and Natasha and Steve with Baby James, and she – she wants that, too. She wants a baby boy with James’s messy head of hair and her little nose, or a baby girl with James’s incredibly blue eyes and her rosy cheeks. She wants to cradle them in her arms, hold them close and nuzzle her face into their little cheeks. She wants to see James hold their tiny baby against his broad shoulders, wants to hear him coo and babble and laugh, because she knows that he would. He will. He’ll make an amazing father.

And she knows that he wants to be one. He’s never said as much, but she can feel it. Even without her powers, she’d be able to tell. It’s why his eyes light up whenever he’s holding Nikki or James. It’s why his entire smile brightens when little kids come up to him at the park, excited and chattering and practically climbing on top of him. It’s why he gets this total look of adoration when he sees Pepper and Tony with Nikki, and Natasha and Steve with James. He wants one that, wants to feel exactly as they do. He just wants her to want it, too.

She does. She does. James had known all along, too. He’d known that she would decide it for herself, and rather than trying to press it, to press her, he’d simply waited.

Now she’s ready.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” James asks, tapping his finger on the tip of her nose. Wanda bats his hand away with a laugh. He wraps an arm around her and tucks her in closer to his chest. “You spaced out for a second.”

“I’m just happy,” she says, glancing around the room. It’s Christmas Eve, and they’re all sitting on the carpet of Tony and Pepper’s den as Tony and Sam pass out the gifts that had been stacked under the huge tree. She’s sitting on James’s lap, his metal hand tucked into her hair, gently massaging her scalp. She’s definitely more than happy right now.

“Yeah?” He gives her a boyish, dimpled grin. “Happy that, after eight days of Hanukkah gifts, you still get more presents?”

“Stop,” she laughs, playfully pushing him away when he tries to lean in. He raises an eyebrow and she giggles, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Are you saying I’m spoiled?”

“Maybe a little,” he teases.

She grins, feeling her heart flutter in her chest. She’s not feeling nervous. Not at all, actually. She’s excited, and she knows he can see it on her face, because he gets this twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “If I’m so spoiled, then why would I have a gift for you?” she asks as she curls her hand around his and gives it a squeeze.

He blinks, surprised, as she stands up and pulls him to his feet with her. “We already open gifts at home,” he reminds, but she just shrugs her shoulders cutely and tugs him toward the hallway.

She asked Pepper to hide the present for her the other night, because she didn’t want to tip anything off to James. She only really put this together a few days ago, but still. She pulls him into the kitchen, opens the cabinet under the kitchen island where Pepper had told her to look, and, sure enough, it’s there. Her hands are shaking ever so slightly as she holds it up for him to see, and he furrows his eyebrows, still smiling as he takes it and gives the box a shake. She bites her lower lip, watching his expression as he tries to listen for a sound.

“This thing’s pretty light,” he comments. “Sure you didn’t wrap air, darling?”

She laughs as she shakes her head. “Open it.”

He smiles, leaning down to kiss her forehead, just because. Then he starts tearing off a corner of the wrapping paper, letting it fall away until he’s popping off the top of the gift box.

She watches as he pulls out the alphabet baby jumpsuit, the matching beanie, the matching baby booties – and, underneath all that, the stationary she’d written on: Let’s have a baby!

“This is—” He stops himself as he looks at her, eyes wide and bright. Excited. Her stomach flips. “You really want to?”

“Yes.” The word comes out soft and breathy and in a rush. James sets everything aside, his smile widening, and she very nearly squeals, “Yes!” as she jumps into his arms, hooking her legs around his hips. His chest rumbles in a laugh as he smooths a hand down her back and over the curve of her hip, giving it a squeeze.

“I think my other gift should be getting started right now,” he says right into her ear.

She feels a warm tingle slide down her spine as she lifts her head from his neck, smiling widely. “Now who’s the spoiled one?”

“Trust me, doll,” he starts, tucking his free hand into her hair, and giving her a heavy, heated look that makes her stomach flutter in anticipation. “After I’m done, it’ll still be you.”

[chalantness]

Let It Snow - day twenty-two

(for my “season of shipping” giveaway)

Rating: PG-13 Word Count: ~1,500 Characters: Steve/Natasha Prompt: unusual gestures designed to win someone’s attention

For: @crimsonxblaze

A/N: I did a little creeping and remembered that you made a Hogwarts au for the Big Bang a while back, so I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed it for inspiration!

Read on: [ ao3 ]

“We heard you and Steve are fighting again.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, looking up from her book as Maria takes a seat beside her on the bench. Maria narrows her eyes, pulling the hood of her robe over her head and tucking it around her ears, and just Natasha smirks and shrugs her shoulders. Winters here are far more bearable than the ones Natasha had experienced in Russia, which means that, while everyone else won’t step a foot outside the castle if they don’t need to, Natasha can enjoy a little peace and quiet in the courtyard. And that means her friends have to brave the December chill and wander outside to find her if they insist on not being ignored until dinner. Which isn’t what Natasha’s doing. She’s just not in the mood for conversation, either.

“Not that you’ll actually confess,” Sharon says with a teasing grin. “You snakes are always so tight-lipped about your drama.”

“That’s because we don’t feed off of attention like you lions,” Natasha retorts, not an ounce of malice in her tone. Sharon giggles and shakes her head. “And I’m surprised the whole castle hasn’t found out about it. Everyone loves to gossip about their Triwizard Champion.”

Wanda frowns as she sits on Natasha’s other side. “Is that what this is about?” she asks, no doubt picking up on the slight snarl in Natasha’s tone. “That Steve got chosen?”

“No, that was what they fought about at the beginning of the year, remember?” Maria points out dryly.

Natasha grips onto her book a little tighter. As if any of them could forget. Headmaster Fury had even pulled her aside to talk to her afterward, when Steve had stormed off and everyone by the Lake had long cleared out. Natasha expected to be reprimanded for causing a scene, even though there definitely hadn’t been a crowd before she and Steve had started arguing. But Headmaster Fury had just brushed the scene off, instead asking her why, as Steve’s best friend, she wasn’t happy that he’d been chosen as their champion?

And, she was, she supposed. It’s an honor and he certainly deserves it.

But talking with Fury about it that day had only served to leave her more pissed off than the actual argument. Because, honor or not, there’s no arguing the actual dangers that come with participating in the Triwizard Tournament. Why the schools would consent in putting their students through these kinds of challenges is ridiculous, and after he’d nearly drowned during the first challenge, she thinks it’s insane that Steve is still acting as if this is all just a game. There have been far worse casualties in the history of this stupid tournament – she had Wanda help her scour the history section of the library to find them – and everyone seems too caught up in the excitement to even give that a second thought, especially Steve.

And, no. She knows Steve doesn’t take this tournament lightly at all. He’s careful and creative and incredibly talented, and it’s why he was chosen to participate.

She gets it. She gets it. Just as she gets how Steve would be hurt by her not being as supportive about the whole thing. That’s really what all their fights have come down to over the last few weeks.

They’ve always butted heads over ridiculous things, but it never felt as intense as it always seems to be now. Any disagreement they’ve had recently feels far more overwhelming than it should and she knows it might not be like that if she bit her tongue. But he doesn’t have to act as if worrying about him means that she doesn’t believe in him.

Honestly, she’s fucking hurt that he would think that, let alone say the words to her face.

As if reading her thoughts, Wanda grips onto Natasha’s arm with both of her hands, her forehead wrinkled in concern. “You should tell Steve how you feel. Not about the tournament,” she adds quickly, no doubt anticipating Natasha’s retort when she parted her lips. “About how you feel about him.”

“And how he feels about you,” Sharon chimes in. “I swear, the entire castle knows how you two feel about each other. You’re both just too stubborn to listen to reason.”

Natasha opens her mouth to answer, but she pauses, something bright catching her gaze at the corner of her eye. She stands, gazing upward at the sky and feeling a laugh fall from her lips when she sees it. She’d thought that it was starting to snow, but now that she’s paying attention, the snowflakes are glittering and moving, swirling around and moving toward each other in the air. She hears Wanda let out a little giggle beside her as she and Maria stand from the bench, too, and they watch as the snow starts to form together and then shift.

Ballerinas.

The snow is forming the silhouettes of ballerinas, twirling and leaping and pirouetting in the air, cascading in a slow, mesmerizing spiral from a single point high above the courtyard.

“Look.” Sharon nudges Natasha’s arm and points toward the roof, and Natasha lets out another laugh when she notices Sam and Bucky sitting there, wands in hand and their feet dangling over the ledge. They grin like idiots and wave at her.

“Here comes Prince Charming,” Maria quips, sounding entirely amused, and Natasha glances down and across the courtyard.

Steve.

He’s got that dimpled, boyish smile on his face as he walks over to her, and, before she can quite help herself, she’s walking forward to meet him halfway – right in the middle of the magically-animated snow ballerinas. (That had probably been the idea.)

“What’s with the little show?” she asks, her tone teasing rather than sharp, and Steve’s expression seems to ease even more. She holds her hand out, her palm facing upward, and a little ballerina lands on her hand, holding its pose. Steve grins, pulls his wand from his robes and murmurs something under his breath that she doesn’t quite catch, and the ballerina that’s in her hand bursts into a flurry of snowflakes, leaving behind a ballerina-pendant necklace. Her breath catches, and Steve tucks his wand away, taking the necklace by the chain.

“I wanted to get your attention,” he explains, reaching around her neck so he can fasten her necklace into place, “without running the risk of you walking out on me again.”

She exhales. “Steve, we don’t have to talk about it,” she tells him. But he shakes his head, tucks his hands into her hair and cradles her head. Her heart is thrumming in her chest.

“I want to,” he says, his voice softer. “Natasha, I’m sorry for not listening to you closely enough. I didn’t mean what I said.”

“Yes, you did, maybe a little bit,” she corrects gently. She’s not trying to argue with him again, but she doesn’t him to think that she wasn’t listening, either. She shrugs her shoulders. “I haven’t been supportive enough and I know it. You should know by now that I’ll always be on your side, but that doesn’t mean I’m off the hook. I shouldn’t lecture you so much.”

“I do know that you’re on my side. That’s why—” He swallows, his grip tightening on her ever so slightly, but it doesn’t hurt at all. “That’s why it hurt when it felt like you were just questioning my every move.” She winches, opens her mouth, but he rushes on. “But I know now, okay? I know. I know it’s because you care so much. I knew all along, but I think it just threw me off that you suddenly weren’t confident in me all the time. And the reason why that hurt me so much is because I love you and I felt like I was just disappointing you.”

Her throat feels tight, and she blinks, once, twice, and then rapidly. “What?” she asks.

He smiles at her. “I love you,” he repeats, slower this time, “and I know you love me, too, and that’s why you’re so worried about the tournament.”

“I—” She blinks again, her eyelashes dotting with tears. Fuck. Fuck. “I do love you, and I don’t want anything happening to you.”

“It won’t,” he replies easily, as confident as ever, and a giggle bursts from her lips as she shakes her head. “You know me, Nat. I’m stubborn, and there’s so much more that I want than to win this tournament. I want to take you on dates, and I want us to graduate together, and I want to marry you, and I want to have a dozen little troublemakers with you—”

“Steve—” she laughs.

“—and, one day, I want to stand on that platform and watch our children get on that train, and then we’ll watch or grandchildren, and maybe, if we’re lucky, our great-grandchildren—”

“Stop, stop,” she interrupts, still laughing as she reaches between them and grasps onto his robes with shaking hands. “I don’t think we’re going to live that long, Steve.”

“Sure we are.” He smiles, wide and brilliant and happy. “I’m a champion, after all.”

She rolls her eyes with a laugh, but then he’s pulling her close, sliding his lips over hers, and the rest of the world just dissolves away.

[chalantness]

Let It Snow - day ten

(for my “season of shipping” giveaway)

Rating: PG-13 Word Count: ~1,100 Characters: Steve/Natasha + Bucky/Wanda + Sam/Sharon Prompt: Avengers’ party + someone got engaged + someone’s expecting a baby + someone had their first kiss

For: an anon

A/N: Okay, so, it was more girl fluff than couples fluff but still fluff nonetheless!

Read on: [ ao3 ]

She didn’t plan on locking herself into one of the guest bathrooms as soon as they’d arrived at the penthouse, but, well. Here she is, staring at her reflection in the huge mirrors, waiting for the minutes to tick by. Fuck, she feels like she’s been in here forever, but the timer on her phone hasn’t even passed a minute yet.

She’s never really had a nervous habit (it was one of the first things the Red Room trained out of her) but she finds herself absently fiddling with the ring on her finger, twirling it, her thumb pressing over the diamond like some kind of lifeline. Like she might actually lose it if she wasn’t touching the thing, which is ridiculous – she’s kept her composure in far more distressing circumstances – but it’s comforting and that’s all she really cares for right now. She blames Steve. Ever since he’d slipped the thing on her finger, he always seems to be touching it, twirling the band, or nudging the diamond, or bringing her hand up to kiss it. She teases him about it, too, saying that she’ll constantly need to get it cleaned at this rate.

But honestly? She loves it, and he gives her that boyish, dimpled smile of his like he knows this. He probably does.

He always just knows.

She actually flinches in surprise when there’s a knock on the door, so distracted in her own head that she hadn’t thought to pay attention.

“Natasha?” Wanda asks. “Is it alright if I come in?”

“Yeah,” Natasha replies, just barely above a whisper, but she knows the girl can hear her. She doesn’t bother moving to get the door, either, because sure enough, the lock clicks open a moment later. Wanda slips inside, shutting the door behind her. Natasha manages a smile. “You look beautiful.”

And she does. She looks like she’s practically glowing, in fact. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are bright, even with the concern tugging at the corners of her expression. She’s wearing a cream-colored sweater dress and burgundy socks pulled over her knees, and Natasha would bet that the reason she and Bucky were a few minutes late was because he absolutely cannot keep his hands off of her whenever she wears socks like this. Natasha can relate. She has a pair of stilettos – sleek and strappy and black, with thin, sky-high heels – that drive Steve crazy. She can’t recall a time when she put them on and he waited until they made it all the way back home before coaxing an orgasm out of the both of them. She’d thought about wearing them tonight (it’s been a while since they’ve had sex at Tony and Pepper’s place) but decided against it. That’s probably what got them into this to begin with.

“Thank you.” Wanda furrows her eyebrows a little. “Is everything alright? Pepper said you’ve been in here for a bit.”

“Oh, Pepper sent you, did she?” Natasha asks with a bit of a laugh. “You mean it wasn’t Steve?”

“Well,” Wanda says, her lips tugging at the corners, “he noticed first. I volunteered to look for you before he could go into a panic. You know how he gets.” Natasha grins at this. Ever the worrier, that one. “Pepper said you’d come this way a few minutes ago, and Steve told me that you felt unwell earlier this week. Is everything alright? I could go get—”

The girl trails off, something catching her eye, and Natasha can’t help but breathe out a laugh. She knows exactly what has Wanda parting her lips in surprise.

“You’re—” Wanda blinks rapidly, reaching for the three pregnancy tests sitting on the counter, but stopping herself, grasping onto Natasha’s hand instead, threading their fingers together and giving a squeeze. “Are you pregnant?” she whispers, as if someone might be listening on the other side of the door.

(Actually, with how nosy their friends are, that could very well be true.)

Wanda leans in, and Natasha starts to answer that she hasn’t even checked yet. But something distracts her. “Wanda, what’s that around your neck?”

The girl blinks, furrows her eyebrows a little more, clearly not expecting the question. But Natasha doesn’t wait for an answer, taking the thin, beaded chain poking out from under the scoop of her sweater and tugging it upward. A set of slim, metal tags clatters as it appears from underneath the fabric. Military tags.

And, strung on the same chain, a ring.

An engagement ring.

“Fuck,” Natasha breathes out, feeling her lips tug into a grin. Wanda blushes, her smile small and a little embarrassed, but entirely elated. “He proposed?”

Wanda gnaws on her lower lip as she nods, reaching up to grasp the ring and the dog tags in her hands. “It was this morning. I wanted to tell you, but I wanted to do it in person with Sharon, before we said anything to the others, and then he—well, then we ran late—”

“Because he clearly wasn’t done proposing—”

“—and when we got here you’d already locked yourself up here, so.” She shrugs her shoulders all cutely, squeezes the hand still twined with Natasha’s. “Surprise?”

“Don’t worry,” someone chimes in, and they both look toward the bathroom door to find Sharon grinning at them, arms crossed as she leans against the doorframe. Her eyes are twinkling in mischief and amusement and excitement all at once. “I promise I’ll forgive you for waiting so long to tell us. But for right now I’m super pissed at the both of you.”

She’s smiling too widely to mean that, though, and Wanda bursts into a giggle, reaching for her. Sharon leans off of the doorframe and walks over to her, letting the girl take her hand and twine their fingers together, too. Then Sharon turns her gaze onto Natasha, one eyebrow raised.

“You’re not off the hook, either. When, exactly, were you planning to tell us that you being pregnant was even on the table?”

“Probably the same time you planned on telling us when Sam left that little souvenir on your neck,” Natasha retorts with a wide smile of her own. Sharon just grins and tucks her hair behind her ear, revealing several marks sucked along the curve of her neck. Sam is evidently a biter. “Considering your professions, Carter, you’re not very subtle at all.”

“I wasn’t going for subtle. No one bothered to ask yet.” Smirking, she adds, “And don’t dodge the matter at hand, Romanoff. Are we going to take a look at these tests or not?”

Natasha actually hesitates, but Wanda gives her hand another squeeze before she can even begin to feel nervous again. “No matter what they say, you’re going to be okay,” Wanda promises, and over her shoulder, Sharon nods without hesitation.

Natasha nods, reaching for a test and flipping it over, and she swears her heart stops.

[chalantness]

Let It Snow - day twenty-three

(for my “season of shipping” giveaway)

Rating: PG-13 Word Count: ~1,200 Characters: Steve/Natasha Prompt: this photo

For: @gomustanggirl16

A/N: I’ve already done two different cabin settings in the royal ‘verse for this giveaway, but here’s another because I’m trash.

Read on: [ ao3 ]

She knows that she’s being ridiculous. She’s jealous and there’s absolutely no reason for her to be, because she knows that Steve loves her and only her.

That doesn’t mean she particularly enjoys watching every woman in this ski resort throw themselves at him.

It felt as if she couldn’t turn around without finding some blonde batting her eyelashes at him, or some brunette leaning into his space and flirting with him as if Natasha wasn’t right there. Yes, not everyone in this place is going to know that she’s a princess and Steve is one of her bodyguards, but still. He, Bucky, and Clint are the only three people in this entire resort wearing suits rather than coats, and she thinks it’s rather apparent by the way they hover over her shoulders that they’re there for her. Not that this seems to matter to these girls. They flock to Steve as if they’re the ones on a mission, and after hours of biting her tongue and turning the other way to avoid causing some kind of scene, she’s finally had it.

“Easy now,” Wanda says when Natasha very nearly slams her glass into the sink. Natasha glares at her, but the girl just smiles, very clearly amused. “We don’t own the place.”

“If you’re just going to make fun of me, you’re dismissed,” Natasha mutters. No, it’s not the first time she’s said something like that to Wanda, but she’s never, ever meant it. Not even now. She’s just pissed, and she knows Wanda will let her throw attitude and then brush it off.

It’s one of the reasons why she loves the girl so much.

Wanda crosses her arms and leans on the counter, her eyes sparkling. “It’s cute, seeing you like this. I don’t think you’ve ever been this frazzled before.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, ignoring the girl’s wide grin as she rinses off her glass and shoves it into the dishwasher.

Before she can turn and walk away, though, Wanda grasps onto her arm and tugs her back, her smile easing into something softer, more sympathetic. “I know you hate that those girls can flirt with Steve all they want when you can’t.” Wanda gives her a comforting squeeze. “But you know none of that matters. You’re the only one that he will ever have eyes for.”

“I know,” Natasha says on an exhale, already feeling some of the tension in her shoulders ebbing at the thought of how much of a bitch she must’ve been toward Steve. It’s not his fault – it never is – and she doesn’t take it out on him, necessarily. But she does get upset, and he hates that there’s really nothing he can do about it. Not unless they want to come forward to her parents and the public, and she doesn’t want to deal with that just yet. She loves the peace that comes with their little secret. She’s not ready to give any of that up.

But she doesn’t want to hide their relationship forever.

She knows that’s the real reason she’s so pissed off right now. Yes, she’s not thrilled about people flirting with Steve. But she doesn’t want to become public with him simply to get other women to back off.

She loves him. She wants to be able to kiss him without the worry of someone finding out, or hold his hand in public longer than it takes for him to help her out of the car.

She knows her parents would want her to be happy, too. They may not be thrilled to find out that they’ve kept it a secret, and she knows there are probably will words with Steve about his intentions. But they trust him with her life and she knows that’s a big deal. Their opinion of him won’t change simply because he’s kissed her behind closed doors.

“Don’t go to bed without talking to him, okay?” Wanda asks, and she waits until Natasha nods before kissing her cheek and wishing her goodnight.

Natasha heads upstairs and to her suite, pausing in the doorway when she sees Steve sitting on the edge of her mattress. They got back to their cabin over an hour ago but he’s still wearing his suit (too distracted to change, evidently) but with his collar undone and his tie unknotted, hanging loosely around his neck. He’s so handsome it’s ridiculous.

He turns to look at her as she walks in, and as soon as she sees the genuine worry tugging at his expression, she feels something tug at her chest.

“Hi,” she says, but she’s barely gotten the word out before he’s got his arms around her, very nearly crushing her to his chest in a hug, but she likes it. No, she loves it. She loves how it feels to have his arms around her. To be engulfed in his warmth, to fit against him and rest her head on his broad shoulder. She can’t count how many times she’s wanted him to hold her just like this at one of the dozens of galas and balls that they’ve been to. She can’t count how many times she’s wished he could take her hand and twirl her under in the middle of the dance floor, giving her that bright, dimpled smile that she loves so much. She presses her face into his neck and kisses his pulse. “I’m sorry for being such a bitch,” she murmurs.

“You weren’t a bitch. A brat, maybe,” he says, and a laugh bursts out of her, because she can practically hear his teasing smile in his voice. “But only a little bit, I promise.”

“How generous of you.” She tips her head back to look at him, his eyes twinkling in amusement, and complete adoration. There’s really no other word to describe the tenderness in his gaze, the way it makes her heart flutter, makes her skin tingle and her cheeks flush.

She loves him. She loves him so much, and she always wants to feel the way she does when he looks at her like this. Without guard or wariness of prying eyes. Without restraint.

“Hey, Steve,” she says, her voice soft, even to her own ears. He smooths a hand over her back as he hums in acknowledgment. “I think I’m ready.”

She feels him still, feels his hold tighten on her ever so slightly. She thinks even feels his heartbeats pick up as he furrows his eyebrows ever so slightly. “Nat?”

She swallows. It suddenly feels a little bit like she can’t breathe, but in the best way possible. Because everything always feels better with Steve. “I know I’m ready,” she tells him, stretching on her toes to nudge her nose against his. She feels him let out a soft, sharp breath. “And I want to know if you’re ready, too, because I want to tell my parents.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, holding onto her even tighter, nuzzling his face into her cheek. She laughs, too, her eyelashes dotting with tears. “I want to tell everyone.”

“Maybe we should just start with my parents,” she says with a chuckle. “I don’t think they’ll take it well if they hear it from the media first.” Steve lifts his head to meet her gaze as she arches an eyebrow, feeling her smile widen, if possible. “Think you can handle the chaos we’re about to cause?”

“Yeah.” He smirks, his eyes glinting. “It’ll be fun.”

[chalantness]

Let It Snow - day seventeen

(for my “season of shipping” giveaway)

Rating: NC-17 Word Count: ~1,400 Characters: Bucky/Wanda Prompt: tree shopping + kissing and outdoor sex

For: @sleepygrimm

A/N: I’m sorry for this trash, babe, I tried to stop myself.

Read on: [ ao3 ]

“James,” she whispers, her voice shaking ever so slightly. Whether in nervousness or excitement or both, she doesn’t know. She just knows that James is kissing her, hard and hungry and heavy, with her back pressed against the trunk of a tree and his hand sliding under her skirt.

Their friends are here, somewhere, with about a dozen other families that had come all the way from the city to pick out their Christmas tree from the tree farm. She shouldn’t find it so thrilling to know this. To know that someone, anyone, can just wander into the thicker part of the woods and come across them. But it is, and she knows that’s why she grasps onto the scarf she’d wrapped around his neck when they left, dragging him closer rather than tugging him away. That’s why she’s whimpering into his mouth when he nips at her lip, sucking it between his and slipping his tongue inside. He hooks a finger under the hem of her stockings, giving it a small tug, and it makes her giggle into their kiss. James has a thing for her in stockings. Well, he has a thing for her legs (and no, it’s not the only thing about her that drives him crazy, and he tells her all the time) and he says that they look even sexier like this.

“Little minx,” he murmurs against her lips, trailing his hand higher, running his knuckles over the dampening front of her panties. “I barely got through the damn car ride.”

She giggles again, rolls her hips into his metal hand, and, oh. He brushes just barely over her little bundle of nerves. Her head falls back, her eyelashes fluttering closed at the sensation. But then he does it again, pressing a little harder, and she sucks in a gasp, eyelashes flying open to find him gazing down at her with a heavy stare.

“Natasha thought you were going to take me right there in the back seat,” she says, her voice just barely above a whisper, because the intensity of his stare is making her pulse race and her throat go dry.

He lets out a low growl, strokes two fingers over the front of her panties. She grasps onto his arm with both hands to hold him in place as she grinds her hips, needing more. She can hear the smirk in his voice as he tells her, “Trust me, I wanted to. Came pretty close to it, actually.” He bends forward and presses his face into her neck, pressing a wet, open kiss to her pulse, sucking gently, and her lips fall open. “You have no idea what kind of torture it is to sit next to you, in your little dress and your stockings, and not touch you at all. Because I knew that as soon as I did, I wouldn’t be able to stop.” His smirk curves a little wider against her skin. “But of course you just couldn’t help yourself, and now look what’s happened.”

“I just held your hand,” she points out, her voice breathy and pathetic and not nearly as teasing as she’d meant it to be. His fingertips are swirling over her in nonsensical, feather-light touches, not giving her any real kind of pressure of relief, no rhythm to try and follow, and it’s driving her crazy.

“And batted those eyelashes of yours,” he murmurs, kissing the underside of her jaw, “and bit your lip,” he continues, licking at her earlobe, “and moaned my name.”

She nearly giggles again. Well, that’s all very true.

“It was payback, for being such a tease last night.” He lifts his head to meet her gaze, his fingers stopping, and she whimpers. “Just like you are right now.”

“Oh?” His eyes are sparkling in mischief, swirling in arousal, as he lowers himself on his knees, his free hand pushing up the hem of her skirt. He always teases her, says it’s ridiculous that she wears her little skirts when it’s below freezing outside. But he certainly doesn’t seem to mind it right about now. “How was I teasing you last night, doll?”

Her heart stutters in her chest. She knows this game. She knows how much he loves making her talk, how much he loves hearing her tell him exactly what she’s thinking, what she feels. It’s his way of getting her out of her own head, yes, but it’s also his way of getting into hers. He opened his mind to her completely, and this is her way of doing the same.

“You wouldn’t let me touch you,” she starts, very nearly whimpering at the memory of her sitting on his lap, her hands gripping onto the headboard so tightly that she thought she might crack the wood. Of his lips wrapped around one of her nipples, sucking, teasing, as his hands gripped onto her hips to keep her in place, to keep her from grinding down on his thigh for any kind of relief. She couldn’t quite remember how long it had gone on. Seconds. Minutes. Just thinking of it is enough to make her squirm. “I was aching, but you just—”

But she cuts herself off with a gasp as his tongue flattens over her through the damp front of her panties.

He groans, licking at her again, and again, nudging at her little bundle of nerves with the tip of his nose, and she threads her hands into his head and bites on her lower lip.

He flips her skirt up, meets her gaze and licks his lips. “Keep going.”

She mewls, shaking her head. If she tries talking while she does this she might not be able to keep quiet.

(She thinks that’s the point.)

“Keep going, doll, and I’ll make it so good,” he promises, pressing a soft, tender kiss to the inside of her thigh. She releases her lip from between her teeth, parts them in a soft whine when he nips at her skin. She draws in a shaky breath and he bites at the waistband of her panties, tugging them down her thighs.

Cold air hits her wet sex, and she shudders, her spine arching. He licks at her gently, as if in encouragement, and her voice is breathy and quivering as she says, “I was aching, but you just told me to wait. That it would feel so much better in the end.” He moans, slips his tongue through her folds and starts lapping at her sex, and she gasps again, yanking a hand out of his hair to scratch at the trunk of the tree. She sucks in a breath and tries to keep her voice low, tries to fight off a moan as she continues with, “I could feel you against my hip, but you didn’t want that. You wanted me o-on—” Her voice quivers as his tongue circles over her clit in slow, broad strokes. She swallows, hard. “You wanted… me on your – lap. Oh, oh.”

She can’t tell if her voice is carrying in the air, doesn’t know if they’re far enough for it not to matter. But she doesn’t want to find out. She doesn’t want them to have to stop.

He pulls his mouth off of her, sounding a little breathless himself when he asks, “Why did I want that, baby?”

Her heart flutters in her chest. “To feel h-how wet I was,” she breathes out, her body tingling as it remembers how her slickness felt on her skin, on his skin.

He groans, sending vibrations against her slick folds, and her moan echoes up into the air before she can stop herself. He sucks at her clit over and over and over again, and she wonders if their friends can hear her cries from the tree farm.

Except, she doesn’t care, not right now, because the strokes of his tongue are relentless on her little bundle of nerves, and she’s close, she’s so close, and—

Then he pulls away, and she whimpers, trying to tug him back. He rises up from his knees, kisses the column of her throat, the apple of her cheek, the bridge of her nose. Her eyelashes flutter open as he takes her hand and brings it to the front of his pants, her heart thumping in her chest when she feels how hard he is.

“Tell me how you fucked yourself on my leg last night,” he whispers right into her ear, “while I fuck you against this tree.”

She moans.

(Her voice is coarse a few hours later, and she just giggles and tucks herself James’s side when Steve pulls a leaf from her hair.)

[chalantness]

Let It Snow - day twenty-six

(for my “season of shipping” giveaway)

Rating: NC-17 Word Count: ~1,000 Characters: Steve/Natasha Prompt: watching Christmas movies + fluff and smut + Steve falling in love with Nat’s laugh

For: an anon

A/N: I know you wanted Love, Actually but I’ve never actually seen it, nor any romantic kind of Christmas movie (sorry!) but I hope I still gave you what you wanted!

Also, I set it in the friends with benefits ‘verse because the prompt just went so well with it.

Read on: [ ao3 ]

It starts with a touch. That’s usually how it goes, with his hand sliding up and down her leg under the conference table, or her lips teasing against his jaw when he’s standing at the kitchen stove, their touch like a spark across their skin, until all their bodies are humming and their thoughts are hazy and all they can focus on is each other.

It’s dizzying, in the best way possible, and Natasha’s not really sure when that happened. Sleeping with Steve had always come with kind of high (hell, the first time they slept together had been a drunk fumble into their motel room after a mission) and it still does. Her skin tingles and her stomach flutters and it always feels a little bit like she can’t breathe. But it had never been quite this intense before. Or, maybe, she’d been so much better at ignoring it, because they’ve always spent all this time together. She’s spent more nights at his place, in his bed, than in hers. But it’s as if now that they’ve crossed that delicate line, they can’t keep their hands to themselves. It started out as a good distraction. The best distraction, really.

But now it’s all she can ever think about. It’s not just the sex, either. It’s him.

It’s Steve.

“Oh,” she moans as his lips wrap around her oversensitive bundle of nerves, suckling gently, his forearm pressing a little harder across her stomach when she tries to roll her hips away.

It’s almost too much, but fuck, it’s also not enough. She just came on his tongue and yet her body still craves him. It’s ridiculous.

“Steve, Steve,” she whimpers, arching her spine, her fingers clawing at the carpet so hard that she swears it might actually rip. She’s not quite sure how they ended up falling from the couch and onto the floor. She doesn’t even remember feeling it. She just knows that her panties are ripped off and tossed somewhere across the floor, that her nightshirt is probably hanging off of the back of the couch, and that she knows her stomach must still be smeared with the chocolate sauce he drizzled and licked off. They’ll have to get the carpet cleaned.

He slides two fingers into her, groans against her folds, and she parts her lips in a sharp, soft cry.

Her second orgasm sneaks up on her. Or maybe she’s just too lost in the sensation, in Steve’s touch and his tongue, to feel it coming on the heels of her first until she’s already unraveling at the seams.

He keeps lapping at her clit as her body shudders, until she’s pushing at his forehead and whimpering his name. He chuckles – and, fuck, she’s so sensitive that even that has her body jolting – and presses a wet, sweet kiss to her hipbone. She lets out a soft mewl as he pulls his fingers out, purposefully, teasingly grazing them over her folds as he crawls back up her body and settles himself above her. She can feel just how hard he is through his pajama pants as it presses into her stomach and it makes her heart flutter, makes her skin tingle. She needs him to be in her, but she needs to give herself a second to breathe, too. So she just hums, slips her hands under his shirt and slides it over the dips of his chest, licking her lips.

“You have chocolate on your lip,” she points out. His tongue darts out to swipe over the smudge of it on the corner of his lower lip, and she very nearly moans.

“I know.” He smirks. “I could taste it when I was tasting you.”

“Oh? And which one was your favorite?” she asks with a quirk of her eyebrow.

He chuckles softly, his chest rumbling against hers as he dips down and kisses her, his tongue slipping past her lips. She whimpers at the taste of the dark chocolate, of her. “Still you,” he murmurs, nipping at her lower lip. “It’s always you.”

She laughs, kissing him again, a little deeper and a little slower. She wonders if he can feel how quickly her heart is beating in her chest.

She slips a hand between them, reaching for the waistband of his pajama pants, but he gently grasps her wrist and brings it up to his lips. He breaks their kiss, brushing one to the tops of her knuckles. “I’m okay for now,” he says. She arches an eyebrow. She knows what she feels, but he just chuckles. “I want to feel you under me a little longer, okay?”

She grins and shakes her head even as her heart practically stops in her chest. “You sound like something straight out of a romantic comedy,” she says, tipping her head toward the screen, where the Netflix Christmas movie they’d picked is still playing. She stopped paying attention maybe fifteen minutes into the thing, but that probably had to do with the way Steve was massaging his fingers over her scalp. There are kids running around in the snow on the screen, and she feels another laugh fall from her lips. “I can’t believe we had sex to that. I think this is the dirtiest thing we’ve done. Well,” she amends, laughing a little harder as she remembers the way he’d fucked her over Tony’s desk last week, “probably not.”

His lips twitch, the amusement very clear in his expression. But there’s something else, too. Something tender and sweet, making her breath catch.

“What?” She holds his gaze. “What is it?”

He swallows lightly, but somehow, she can tell it’s not out of nerves or embarrassment.

“I’m just…” His smile softens, brightens. “I’m in love with your laugh.”

Her heart flutters in her chest, a warmth unfurling, spreading through her veins. It’s intense. It’s dizzying. And she’s a little terrified, because she thinks she knows exactly what this is.

She reaches up to grasp his chin, running her thumb over his lower lip. She doesn’t say anything at first. She couldn’t find her voice even if she tried. But, this doesn’t seem to upset Steve. He’s still smiling at her, still gazing at her with an overwhelming kind of adoration in those bright, beautiful eyes, and she—

She’s in love with his everything.

She’s in love with him.

[chalantness]

Let It Snow - day eight

(for my “season of shipping” giveaway)

Rating: PG-13 Word Count: ~1,200 Characters: Steve/Natasha Prompt: make-overs + a Christmas party

For: @marvelousdorito

A/N: I owe you something with the “jealousy” prompt because I got caught up in the first two prompts and then things got really emotional.

Read on: [ ao3 ]

It’s strange that none of this feels strange at all.

It should after all that’s happened, all they’ve been through, with each other and against each other and then with each other again. Standing in the penthouse with a tumbler of scotch in hand and happy chatter in the air is something that, up until a few months ago, had been a memory, bittersweet and replaying too often in his head.

“She’s not going to magically appear if you brood harder, you know,” Tony quips as he slides onto the barstool next to Steve, one eyebrow arched, lips tugged in amusement.

Steve chuckles, but before he can respond, Clint drops onto the barstool on his other side with a hard clap to his shoulder. “But nobody looks better brooding than this one over here, am I right?” he asks, sliding his empty glass across the counter as Maria comes around the bar and catches it with her hand. There’s a dry smile on her lips as she shakes her head, but her eyes are bright and twinkling with a kind of relief that Steve thinks they can all relate to. He wonders if they all sort of hold their breaths in moments like this, as if they’re not quite sure how this is actually happening. How they’re all here again, and it’s not the same as before but better, almost. “Nat looks great, by the way,” Clint adds, grinning cheekily at Steve.

Steve groans out a laugh, pushing his glass away. “Is anyone going to tell me why she isn’t here yet?”

“You know how women like to take their time getting all dolled up,” Tony says, then holds his hands up as if in surrender when Maria narrows her eyes ever so slightly. “I’m joking, geez, don’t look at me like that.”

Maria’s smiling as she rolls her eyes, grabs a bottle of Jameson by the neck and points at Steve. “You can’t go eight hours without seeing your fiancé, huh?”

Steve feels himself grin, and he doesn’t really care if he looks like an idiot doing so. He just really likes hearing that word.

Fiancé.

His heart does this little flip just thinking of the night he proposed. It wasn’t even something he planned on doing. Maybe because they both already knew that this was where they were headed, because it’s them, and they always just know. The others like to poke fun about how they went from friends to fiancés in the same breath, and, yeah, that’s kind of the truth. They never dated. They never needed to. He remembers when there was still SHIELD, they could go days, sometimes even weeks without seeing each other. But then he’d come back to his apartment to find her sitting on his couch, wearing his sweats, and it was the most natural thing in the world. She’d became his constant. She’d became his home.

So, if you were to ask him where they began, he thinks that maybe that’s what he’d say.

And maybe that’s why it made sense for him to ask her there, in the place where they began, if she’d take his hand, his name, his ring, his everything.

It was something they both knew would happen, even though they hadn’t even planned to go back to that apartment. They just happened to be in town, and they had lunch in the same booth at the same 24-hour diner down the block from his old building, where they unwound from missions at odd hours of the night over milkshakes and burgers. It was as if they both felt a pull that day, something drawing them to visit that apartment, just for nostalgia’s sake. So they did. They sat in the frame of one of the windows – the same window that he’d sit in sketch, or she’d sit in to read – and talked for hours, about everything and anything. About what they did when they were apart. About what they lost in the war. About what they gained. About what they still hoped for. They talked long after the sun had set, until it was only a few hours until they would leave for the airport to catch their flight home.

He’d turned to find her staring up at him, a small, knowing smile on her face, and she didn’t even blink in surprise when he whispered, “I’m going to marry you someday.”

She had to have known. She had to have known that that’s what he was going to say, because she just smiled a little wider. There was no quip or playful tease. Not a single flicker of surprise or uncertainty. Just the slightest tilt of her head, this little exhale of breath. And then, in a soft voice he’s certain he’s never heard her use before: “Someday soon, I hope.”

Someday soon, I hope.

Another proposal had followed, of course – with a ring, and him down on one knee – but this one would be the one he’d remember most. This one was theirs and only theirs.

Arching an eyebrow, Steve retorts with, “Well, I wouldn’t be a very good fiancé if I didn’t want to spend time with her, now would I?”

“Sometimes I forget just how sassy that tongue of yours really is,” a voice says behind him, and Steve sits up a little straighter, smiles a little wider. Natasha. He turns to look over his shoulder, then feels his heart almost stop the moment he sees her.

Her hair is red.

Her hair is red again.

He knows he’s grinning, because everyone’s laughing at him, but he couldn’t care less. He knows Natasha started letting her hair grow out, and he knows she’s complained about having to maintain the platinum shade of blonde that she’d dyed it to when they’d been separated and in hiding.

But he didn’t know she was going to do this. And he’s fairly certain that had been the whole point of not seeing her all day today. It’s kind of a joke between them, how much he loves her hair. How he likes to run his hands through it, tangle his fingers in it, wrap it around his wrist. She still looked as beautiful as ever as a blonde, of course, and hair is just hair. There are few people who can pull off just about any style and Natasha is certainly one of them. But, as stupid as it seemed, he’s missed her red hair. He’s missed the boldness of the color and the way it makes her eyes look greener, the way it makes her skin look more flushed. And he’s missed it because he knows she has, too, even if she never even said the words.

She never needed to.

“Ma’am,” he greets, reaching for her hips, pulling her to stand between his knees. She doesn’t just look happy. She looks downright giddy.

“Hi,” she says with a bit of a laugh, leaning in to brush a kiss to his lips. “I decided that you get to have one of your Christmas presents a few days early, since we’re at this fancy party and all.”

“Oh, this is my present, huh?” He squeezes her hips, quirking an eyebrow.

She hums, grasps a chunk of her hair and twirls it around her fingers. “I know how much you’ve missed this little fetish.”

“Such a doting fiancé,” he teases, and she’s laughing as he bats her hand away and tucks his fingers into her hair, tugging her gently forward for a kiss.

[chalantness]

Let It Snow - day twenty-nine

(for my “season of shipping” giveaway)

Rating: M Word Count: ~1,000 Characters: Steve/Natasha Prompt: feeling safe in cold conditions + snuggling for warmth in bed + sleeping and bedding themes + snowed-in cabin

For: two anons

A/N: Follow up to this one because it felt fitting for the prompts!

Read on: [ ao3 ]

“I can take the couch.”

She laughs, grasps the front of his thermal in her fist and tugs him toward her, one eyebrow arched. “Don’t insult me, Rogers. I may not be a much of a lady, but I know my manners.” Stretching up on her toes, she grazes a kiss to his cheek, and then says, right into his ear: “You give me an orgasm, you get to share the bed with me.”

“Nat,” he breathes out with a chuckle, squeezing his hands over her hips. He’s not embarrassed, necessarily, but she can absolutely feel his cheeks flush under the press of her lips, and she wonders if he’s remembering what they just did in the tub half an hour ago. If he’s picturing her first orgasm, with his grip almost bruising into her hips as he guided her over his lap; or her second orgasm, when he guided her onto her knees and sunk into her from behind, sloshing water onto the bathroom tiles with the force of their movements; or her third orgasm, when he lifted her onto the edge of the tub and lapped through the tremors of her high, pushing her through another blissful peak as she tugged and tugged at his hair.

She didn’t know what to expect when they ducked into this bunker to escape the snowstorm, but it definitely wasn’t that.

“Just don’t want it to be uncomfortable for you,” he says. “That bed looks rather small.”

“That’s why people invented cuddling, Steve,” she teases as she tugs him forward, falling onto the bed and pulling him over her. She hooks her legs around his hips and actually winces ever so slightly at the dull ache already pinching at her muscles. “And if you’re worried about making me uncomfortable, it’s too late. You wore me out more than our mission did.”

“Nat, don’t,” he says, voice soft, and for a moment, she swears she’s holding her breath as he holds her gaze. His grin turns a little wry at the corners and her chest sort of tightens. “I promise I’ll respect your decision if you want to be casual about what just happened,” he tells her, “but it was still a big deal for me.”

His expression is almost apologetic, like he doesn’t want her to be upset for asking in the first place, and honestly, she’s not even upset that he’d think she would brush it off like what they did was just some fling. Because if it was a few years ago, and if it was anyone but him, that’s exactly what she would’ve done. She’s always been so careful to keep as few strings as possible, because it’s just easier to do what she does without having to lie or worry about letting someone down. But of course, Steve came along and completely ruined it for her.

Because she cares what he thinks of her, cares about not disappointing him and cares about making him proud.

A shaky, relieved laugh bursts from her lips, and, fuck, she feels a little bit like she’s shaking, and she knows it’s not from the cold. She cups her hands over his face, strokes her thumbs over the apples of his cheeks.

“Steve,” she says, her voice soft even to her own ears. “It was a big deal for me, too.”

He holds her gaze as he swallows lightly. “Yeah?” He practically whispers the word, but it’s not out of nerves. She knows. She can see it in the way his eyes are shining, the way his lips are tugging ever so slightly at the corners, like he’s barely holding back a smile. She nods, and his entire expression brightens, and her heart does this stupid little flip in her chest.

He looks so happy, and she loves that she’s the reason why.

“Good.”

She lets out another laugh, drawing his lips to hers, and just like that, what little nerves they had both been feeling completely dissolve. She doesn’t know how she could get so lucky. How things can be so easy with Steve. It should be terrifying how attuned they are to each other, how her mood is simply better just by being with him.

But it doesn’t scare her, not even a little. She knows that this means something, but for once in her life, she doesn’t want to figure it out on her own. She wants them to figure it out together.

They make a great team, after all.

“Okay, then,” he says against her lips, his thumb circling over the scar on her hip, “I think it’s time to cuddle.”

She laughs and shakes her head, pretending to push him off of her, but he wraps an arm around her and rolls them over so that she’s on top of him, straddling his legs. His hand smooths up her back, tangling into her hair as his fingers gently massage her scalp, and she hums, gnawing on her lower lip and leaning into his touch. She tucks her hands under the hem of his thermal, dipping her fingers over the contours of his abs. Fuck, it’s unfair for him to have a body like this. “Fine,” she says as she rolls her hips over his, relishing in the way his chest rumbles in a groan. It’s ridiculous for her body to crave him so much already, just barely after she’s caught her breath, but whatever. “Then let’s get out of these clothes.”

He looks amused. “I don’t think that counts as cuddling, Nat.”

His thumb hooks into the waistband of her sweats as he says this, though, so she hardly thinks he’s against the idea. “Sharing body heat is more effective when it’s direct,” she reminds, her lips curving into a smirk. “We may have hours before the extraction team can get us out of here. Might as well stay warm.”

“What would I do without you?” he asks with a laugh, drawing her lips to his, and her heart flutters because she knows he’s not just teasing her.