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stuiie · 5 days ago

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Don’t Cry No Tears Now, it’s Christmas, Baby

༊*·˚ Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Christmas is all about spending time with your favorite people, laughing, sharing stories, and enjoying the little moments that make the season special. But nothing could have prepared you for the kind of love that shows up in so many shapes and forms. From the warmth of a quiet hug to the sound of laughter echoing through the room, or even just sharing a mug of hot cocoa in the quiet snowfall, it’s the kind of magic that sneaks up on you and makes everything feel right.

Tags: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Special, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Established Relationship, Romance, Love, Domestic Fluff, Friendship, Set in the future The Color of You.

Words: 7,3K

Authors note: I’m a little stuck on the main story right now, and then I heard Snowman by Sia (if you haven't heard it I recommend listening to it), and I couldn’t resist writing this little Christmas piece. It’s set in the future of The Color of You, but I really hope you’ll enjoy it. Sorry for being a bit sappy, I’m just feeling a little blue these last couple of days.

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The air was thick with the warmth of Christmas, every breath infused with the scent of gingerbread and mulled wine. It wrapped around you like a soft blanket, tugging you deeper into the comforting magic of the season. From the doorway, you caught sight of Natasha and Wanda in the kitchen, moving together in a silent, intimate rhythm. They danced around one another—hands brushing, laughter quiet but alive—as they prepared the Christmas dinner. For a moment, you simply watched, your heart swelling with a mix of affection and awe. The scene was theirs, so tender it felt like a secret you didn’t want to disturb. Smiling softly, you turned away, slipping back into the living room.

Yelena’s cackling was the first thing you heard as you flopped down onto the couch beside her. On the TV, Home Alone played in full volume, and Yelena, unable to contain herself, flung a fistful of popcorn at the screen. You groaned dramatically at the mess, shooting her a look she ignored entirely. Muttering under your breath, you knelt to pick up the scattered popcorn, knowing full well that Wanda would have a fit if she saw it.

It had been Wanda, after all, who had greeted you earlier with almost childlike excitement. She had covered your eyes the moment you stepped through the door, chuckling warmly as she guided you inside. “No peeking,” she had teased, her voice bright and warm. When she finally let go, the gasp that escaped you was entirely genuine.

The Christmas tree stood in the center of the living room, towering and radiant. Its branches were adorned with gold and red ornaments that shimmered like jewels under the soft fairy lights. A ribbon of gold and red spiraled from top to bottom, its edges catching the light as if dusted with stardust. It wasn’t just a tree; it was magic.

You had drifted around the room in quiet awe, taking in every detail—the stockings hanging above the crackling fire, the wreaths laced with twinkling lights, the faint scent of pine that blended perfectly with the warmth of the room. It was all so beautiful it made your chest ache. And just as you reached out to touch one of the ornaments, Natasha’s arms had wrapped around you from behind.

“Mistletoe,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to your cheek before tilting your face toward hers for something softer. The warmth of her lips lingered, leaving you breathless. But before you could respond, laughter filled the air, and you turned to find Wanda holding the mistletoe high above you both, her smile so fond it made your heart flutter.

“My turn,” Wanda teased, stepping closer. She tilted your chin gently with her fingers and kissed you—soft at first, then deeper, as though drawn in by a force neither of you could fight. Her slender fingers slid through your hair, slow and tender, as her tongue teased yours, sparking something that made your knees weak. It left you dazed and full of wanting, your selfish heart already begging for more. Somewhere deep inside, you wondered if their love would ever feel less overwhelming—if you would ever feel worthy of it. But in that moment, surrounded by warmth and wonder, you didn’t care.

“Earth to idiot.”

Yelena’s shove snapped you out of the memory, and you tipped sideways into the cushions with an indignant noise. You shot her a glare, but she only grinned wickedly, entirely unapologetic.

“Come on,” she said, tugging at your arm as she stood. “We’re going out. Fresh air will do you good.”

“Yelena—”

“No arguing!” she called, already halfway across the room. “Nat, Wanda! We’re heading out for a bit!”

You hesitated only a moment before following her out. The air was crisp and bit at your cheeks, the kind of cold that left you feeling wide awake and alive. A soft hush had settled over the neighborhood, the quiet broken only by the crunch of snow beneath your boots. The streets were blanketed in white, the snow glimmering faintly under the glow of streetlamps.

For a while, neither of you spoke as you walked toward the park. The world felt impossibly still, as if you had stepped into a snow globe—a perfect, fleeting moment suspended in time. You let out a breath, watching it mist in the cold air, and glanced at Yelena, who walked with her hands shoved in her pockets, a content smile tugging at her lips.

Yelena grasped your hand and tugged you toward the small market, her excitement spilling out in a constant stream of chatter. She rambled about everything—the crafts she wanted to see, the ridiculous sweater someone was wearing, and her plans to get the best hot chocolate in the market. Her energy was infectious, and as you listened, your chest filled with a familiar warmth. You stole a glance at her rosy cheeks, glowing from the cold, and at the way the twinkling market lights reflected in her bright, carefree eyes.

The line for hot chocolate was long, but Yelena didn’t stop talking, her enthusiasm like a balm against the chill of the late afternoon. You felt yourself smiling, a rare kind of peace blooming in your chest as you stood there with her, your boots crunching in the snow. Finally, with steaming paper cups filled with hot chocolate in hand, the two of you began wandering through the market, weaving between clusters of people.

The stalls were filled with handmade crafts: delicate wooden carvings, candles with cinnamon scents, and beautifully knitted scarves you admired but didn’t dare touch. Yelena pointed out the more peculiar items—like a hat that resembled a chicken—and cracked jokes that had you doubling over in laughter. Every so often, the scent of roasting chestnuts or spiced pastries would curl through the air, making the moment feel all the more magical.

Eventually, you found yourselves on the bridge, its old stone dusted with snow and worn smooth by years of stories. You slowed to a stop, instinctively lingering there. It was just a bridge, but to you, it had become something more. So much had happened here—quiet talks, shared tears, and promises whispered into the night. It was a place where time felt a little less fleeting.

You clutched your hot chocolate and watched families gathered below, their small children tossing bread crumbs to eager ducks. Their laughter carried up to you, soft and bright against the crisp evening air. A pang of nostalgia washed over you, pulling you back to when you and Yelena were that small—when the world felt bigger, and magic was something you never questioned. It wasn’t that life wasn’t magical now; it was just... different. Softer, quieter.

Yelena bumped your shoulder, snapping you out of your thoughts. Without hesitation, you leaned into her, resting your head against her shoulder. “Thank you for this,” you murmured, the words barely escaping in the misty cold.

Yelena didn’t respond. She didn’t need to. Instead, she shifted ever so slightly so that her shoulder fit more comfortably beneath your head, a silent reassurance that you were always enough for her, just as she was for you.

On the way back, the silence was easy and familiar, broken only by the sound of your boots crunching in the snow. As you reached an open patch of untouched white, Yelena grinned and dropped to the ground, flailing her arms and legs to make a snow angel.

“You’re ridiculous,” you teased, but before long, you joined her, the two of you lying side by side, laughing into the sky as snowflakes danced down to kiss your cheeks.

Then, just as you stood up, brushing snow from your coat, Yelena’s smirk deepened. “Uh-oh,” she said, examining the imprint you left behind. “Pretty sure you made that snow angel in dog poop.”

“What?!” Your heart leapt in panic as you scrambled to inspect the snow beneath you.

It took only a second to realize Yelena’s shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter, her lips pressed tightly together to stop herself from bursting. “You should’ve seen your face!”

“Yelena!” you shouted, a mix of relief and outrage bubbling up as you scooped a handful of snow. She bolted with a laugh, her boots kicking up little puffs of white as you chased after her, pelting her with snowballs.

By the time you reached the house, both of you were breathless, your cheeks flushed, your coats dusted in snow. Yelena collapsed on the steps, breathless with laughter, and you couldn’t help but grin as you flopped down beside her. The stars above seemed to twinkle in time with your joy, and as you sat there together, you knew—this moment, as simple and silly as it was, would linger in your heart for years to come.

When you finally stepped inside, the warmth of the house enveloped you like a well-worn blanket, but it was immediately clear that the guests had arrived. The soft hum of chatter and the faint clinking of glasses carried from the living room, but your attention was drawn to Wanda, who stood in the entryway, arms crossed and an amused yet stern look on her face. Her gaze swept over you and Yelena, taking in your snow-dusted coats, flushed cheeks, and tousled hair. She shook her head fondly, though the sharp arch of her brow told you she wasn’t entirely pleased.

You gave her your best sheepish smile, cheeks still pink, but she didn’t budge. Before you could say a word, Natasha appeared around the corner, a wide grin spreading across her face as she took in the sight of the two of you. “Well, well, look at this pair of snow gremlins,” she teased, her tone dripping with mockery.

Yelena grumbled and started wrestling with her jacket, but Natasha, with the grin of someone who thrived on chaos, moved to block her path. “Here, let me help you,” Natasha cooed innocently, tugging at Yelena’s sleeves with just enough force to turn it into a proper struggle.

“Nat, stop,” Yelena growled through gritted teeth, her arms halfway out of the coat as Natasha cackled, unhelpful as ever. The two of them twisted and stumbled around the entryway like overgrown children, Yelena’s curses mixing with Natasha’s gleeful laughter. You bit your lip, determined not to laugh, as you fought to remove your own jacket, gloves, and hat without getting caught in the chaos.

Natasha’s teasing escalated, tugging Yelena this way and that until—

“Natasha,” Wanda’s voice rang out, cool and sharp enough to cut through the madness.

Natasha immediately let go, her smirk still firmly in place, while Yelena staggered backward, cursing in Russian as she finally shrugged off the jacket and sent Natasha a sharp glare. With all the grace of someone who didn’t know when to quit, Yelena flipped her off, a wild scowl on her face, which only made Natasha grin wider.

You couldn’t help it—you broke. A burst of laughter escaped you, loud and bright, filling the space like sunlight. Wanda turned her gaze on you then, unimpressed and unamused, though there was something in her eyes that betrayed her fondness.

“Sorry,” you managed between giggles, stepping closer to her. To soften the blow, you leaned in and pressed a light kiss to her cheek. “Forgive me?” you whispered, your breath brushing against her skin.

She sighed, her expression softening just a little as her arms fell to her sides. “Go get ready before I change my mind,” she muttered, her voice half affectionate, half exasperated.

“Will do,” you chirped, stealing one last glance at Natasha and Yelena—who were still bickering under their breath—before heading upstairs.

In Yelena’s room, the world seemed quieter, the sounds of the house fading behind the closed door. You peeled off your snow-damp clothes, shaking your head as Yelena flopped dramatically onto the bed with a satisfied sigh.

“You’re insufferable,” you teased, earning only a shrug in response.

“I’m charming, and you know it.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you rifled through the closet for something to wear. Yelena eventually sat up, humming along to the Christmas songs now streaming softly from the speaker. She watched you thoughtfully for a moment before standing. “Sit,” she commanded, gesturing to the chair in front of the vanity.

“What? Why?”

“Because you need to look cute, and I’m in the mood to help,” she replied, digging through your makeup bag.

You rolled your eyes but complied, settling into the chair as Yelena set to work. It wasn’t long before she was singing along to the Christmas music, her voice louder and more off-key than necessary. You couldn’t help but smile as she swayed to the beat, brushing powder across your cheeks with dramatic flair.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” you said, raising a brow as she grinned at her reflection in the mirror.

“Obviously. You’re like my little art project.”

Despite her teasing, Yelena’s touch was careful and gentle as she worked. You watched her in the mirror, your heart swelling as you took in her playful expression, the flush in her cheeks from earlier, and the way she still hummed along as though she hadn’t a care in the world.

When she finally stepped back, admiring her work, she beamed. “Perfect. You’re a masterpiece.”

You laughed softly, meeting her eyes in the reflection. “Thanks, Lena. For everything.”

She rolled her eyes as though it was no big deal, but her grin softened into something quieter, more genuine. “Anytime,” she said, nudging your shoulder. “Now let’s go before Natasha eats all the good food.”

Together, you stood, the warmth of the moment lingering between you as the music played on.

When you joined everyone downstairs, the hum of laughter and conversation welcomed you like a favorite song. The room was alive with a glow that went beyond the soft lights and garlands—it was the kind of warmth that came from family, chosen or otherwise.

Val was the first to spot you, her face lighting up as she strode over. She pulled you into a firm side hug, dropping a soft kiss to the crown of your head in that way only she could—casual, yet grounding. “About time,” she teased gently before turning to Yelena. She hugged her tightly, ruffling Yelena’s hair like an older sibling might, earning a dramatic groan of protest.

As you stepped further into the room, your gaze fell on Agatha and Rio lingering by the window. Agatha, always sharp-tongued and full of sarcasm, was mid eye-roll at something her wife had said. Rio, unbothered and clearly amused, slipped an arm around Agatha’s waist and pulled her close. For a moment, Agatha’s familiar air of indifference cracked, softening as she allowed Rio to press a tender kiss to her lips. It was intimate and unguarded in a way that made you look away with a faint smile, as though you’d stumbled on something private yet precious.

Your eyes scanned the room and landed on Pepper, who stood across the way chatting with Maria. They both raised their glasses in your direction in greeting, their smiles easy and genuine. You nodded back with a wave, your heart swelling at the sight of so many people you cared about all gathered here.

Feeling the pull of a familiar presence, you slid over to Natasha, who was standing near the dining table with a glass of wine in hand. You hugged her side, and she turned to you with a wide smile that lit up her face. Without hesitation, she tugged you closer, dropping a kiss on your forehead.

“There you are,” she said softly, her voice carrying a note of fond relief.

“Here I am,” you replied with a grin, feeling a little more at home with her arms around you.

As dinner was served, the room buzzed with warm chatter and the clinking of glasses. You found yourself seated between the Romanoff sisters, and the sense of belonging was enough to bring a lump to your throat if you let it.

Yelena nudged you playfully with her elbow as she stole a roll from your plate, while Natasha gave her a look that could have frozen fire. “Really?” Natasha drawled, but you couldn’t miss the glimmer of affection in her eyes.

“What?” Yelena grinned innocently, chewing shamelessly as she kicked her boots out under the table.

You just laughed, shaking your head as you broke off a piece of bread for yourself. Around you, the air was alive with a harmony of voices—Val joking with Pepper, Agatha and Rio trading sly remarks, Maria’s laugh ringing out above the rest, and Wanda’s voice mingling with it all like a melody you never tired of hearing.

The table was a sea of warmth and color: flickering candles reflected in wine glasses, bowls of roasted vegetables passed from hand to hand, and the occasional clang of utensils as someone reached too enthusiastically for a dish. It was noisy, imperfect, and absolutely perfect.

For a while, you just let yourself soak it all in—the sight of Natasha leaning in to tease Yelena, the sound of Agatha’s exaggerated scoff, and the way Wanda’s laughter curved through the air like a ribbon of light. This was what you had always longed for, though you hadn’t known it back then: a place to call home, and people who made you feel as though you were enough just by being there.

Wanda caught your gaze from across the table then, her eyes soft and searching. She smiled—small, almost private—and you returned it, your chest blooming with a quiet kind of joy.

After dinner, everyone chipped in to help with the dishes, laughter and conversation filling the kitchen as plates were passed and glasses were rinsed. Yelena, predictably, turned drying the dishes into a contest, boasting that she could dry faster than anyone else, only to drop a fork mid-spin and claim she was “letting you all win.” Natasha rolled her eyes, but her smirk betrayed her amusement, while Val and Maria exchanged knowing glances as though long accustomed to Yelena’s antics.

Once the kitchen was back in order, the group moved to the living room. The Christmas tree glowed softly, the twinkling lights throwing a warm shimmer over the room. The familiar sounds of Christmas music drifted from the speaker, low enough to leave space for the soft hum of chatter and clinking glasses.

Wanda, who had claimed a cozy corner of the sofa, caught your gaze and beckoned you over with a small wave of her hand. You couldn’t help but smile as you walked toward her, wine glass in hand, and let yourself settle against her. Her arms wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you closer as you leaned back into her.

Her fingers began combing lazily through your hair, a soothing motion that had you melting into her touch. “You’ll never believe it,” she murmured softly, her voice a gentle hum above the music. “I’ve been asked to create a sculpture for the new hotel downtown—the one opening next spring.”

You tilted your head slightly to look at her, your lips parting in awe. “Wanda, that’s incredible.”

The corner of her mouth tugged upward, though she tried to appear nonchalant. “It’s nothing too extravagant, just something to sit in the lobby. Modern but striking, they said.”

“It’s everything,” you said firmly, your heart swelling with pride. “I don’t know why you’re acting like it’s just another day. That’s amazing. You deserve it.”

Wanda’s hand stilled for a moment before resuming its gentle rhythm, her smile softening into something that reached her eyes. “You always say the right things, you know that?”

“I mean them,” you replied quietly, squeezing her arm lightly before resting your head back on her shoulder.

As the night wore on, the room settled into a peaceful rhythm. Wanda began humming softly along to the Christmas songs, her voice a low, melodic hum that matched the gentle sway of her arms as she held you. You felt the rise and fall of her breath, the quiet hum of contentment that radiated from her, and it wrapped around you like the warmth of a fire on a cold night.

On the other side of the couch, Natasha and Val had taken up their usual banter, their voices playful as they bickered over whose turn it was to top up the wine. Val gestured wildly, her face dramatic, while Natasha’s smirk only grew sharper as she leaned back, clearly enjoying the game.

Wanda’s toe suddenly nudged Natasha’s leg, drawing her attention. Natasha paused mid-sentence, looking over with a raised brow and a teasing smile. But when her gaze shifted to the two of you—Wanda holding you close, her fingers combing through your hair—her expression softened.

Wanda met Natasha’s gaze and gave her a small, knowing nod before glancing toward the tree. Natasha’s eyes brightened instantly, and her grin returned full force. She clapped her hands together, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Alright, people!” Natasha announced, her voice carrying over the chatter. “It’s time to swap gifts before Yelena falls asleep and pretends she doesn’t want any.”

“Hey!” Yelena piped up from where she sat sprawled on the rug, halfway through a gingerbread cookie. “That only happened once!”

“Three times,” Natasha corrected, earning a glare and a muttered insult in Russian.

Around the room, people began shifting, leaning forward to grab bags and boxes, and the chatter rose again, filled with excited murmurs and teasing jabs. You couldn’t help but smile as you sat up slightly, Wanda’s arms lingering around you for just a moment longer before she let go.

You thought you knew what to expect as everyone handed over their gifts with wide smiles and laughter that curled warmly around the room. But as the wrapping paper began to tear and presents were unveiled, you realized you hadn’t truly prepared for the chaos that would follow.

It began when Agatha unwrapped her gift with all the elegance of a queen—only to pull out a strap without the faintest shred of shame. “Well, would you look at that,” she purred, twirling the harness casually around her fingers as though it were a party favor.

“Agatha!” Wanda groaned, shaking her head with an amused exasperation.

Across the room, Rio grinned, unrepentant and clearly proud of herself. “Don’t act surprised. You know she’s going to wear it.”

Agatha shot Rio a sly look, her voice dripping with mock affection. “You spoil me, darling.”

The exchange was topped off with Val, who leaned back on the couch, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, looking pleased as ever. “Told you it would suit her.”

The laughter bubbled louder when Rio, unwrapping her gift, pulled a whip from its sleek box. She held it up for all to see, the leather swaying in her grip like a threat—an elegant threat.

“Practical and pretty,” Agatha echoed wryly while Val mouthed, you’re welcome, in Agatha's direction making it clear who was responsible for the gift, earning a grimace from Yelena.

Wanda’s chuckle vibrated against your back where she sat with you tucked comfortably between her legs, her arms draped loosely around your shoulders. Her laughter, rich and amused, sent warmth curling through your chest.

Then Yelena, sprawled on the floor, groaned dramatically, flopping onto her back as though the whip alone had sent her into an early grave. “Why are you all like this? This is Christmas, not… not—”

“Not whatever you think it is?” Val quipped, smirking as Yelena shot her a glare.

“Exactly.”

Before Yelena could say anything else, Maria and Pepper began unwrapping their presents, the room’s attention shifting. You tried to maintain your composure as Maria held up a piece of crimson lingerie with an appreciative smirk, Pepper laughing beside her as she showed off the delicate necklace she'd received.

“Balance,” Maria teased, holding up the jewelry and the fabric in each hand.

“Very elegant balance,” Pepper added with a wink, her smile easy and unbothered.

Then it was Val’s turn. She unwrapped her present eagerly, only for her expression to freeze mid-smirk. A moment later, the small box went sailing across the room, hitting Natasha squarely in the shoulder with an audible thud.

“What the hell, Romanoff?” Val barked, but Natasha was already laughing, one hand rubbing her shoulder.

Your gaze dropped to the floor, where the box of Viagra now lay. Your eyes widened in shock before a loud, unapologetic laugh burst from you, echoing Wanda’s quiet snickering behind you.

“That’s for future Val,” Natasha quipped with a grin.

“Future Val is going to kick your ass,” Val shot back, still glaring, though you could see the corner of her mouth twitching upward.

“Please stop,” Yelena groaned again, burying her face in her hands. “I can’t take any more of this.”

“Then let’s move on,” Natasha announced smugly, picking up a box and tossing it to Yelena.

Yelena looked almost relieved as she ripped off the wrapping, and the moment she spotted what was inside, her face lit up. It was the bomber jacket she’d been not-so-secretly wanting. “No way!” she gasped, her grin stretching from ear to ear. She immediately launched herself at Natasha, pulling her into a hug before pushing you unceremoniously aside to get to Wanda.

“Move,” Yelena ordered, practically shoving you with her elbow.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, glaring at her dramatic display as you settled back into your spot between Wanda’s legs.

“Let her have this moment,” Wanda murmured, brushing her lips against the top of your head.

Yelena dropped back onto the floor and grabbed the final box—yours. You held your breath as she tore the paper with her usual reckless enthusiasm, but her hands stilled when the gift revealed itself.

Her expression softened instantly, and for a beat, the room seemed to quiet as she ran her fingers gently along the edges of the book. She opened it carefully, her movements uncharacteristically delicate. Inside were the photos you’d spent so long collecting and arranging—snapshots of your childhood together. Days of scraped knees, shared birthdays, and mischievous grins frozen in time.

Yelena’s lips parted slightly, her gaze fixed on a photo of the two of you, tangled in a heap of blankets on the couch when you were small. Her thumb brushed the corner of the page, and you watched as a quiet emotion passed over her features—something soft, something undeniably tender.

She looked up then, her green eyes shining with something deeper than words could express. “You made this?”

You nodded, your voice suddenly caught in your throat. “Yeah... I, uh, thought you’d like it.”

Yelena didn’t say anything. She just reached forward and pulled you into a hug—gentler this time, no shoving or teasing. It was the kind of hug that said everything she couldn’t put into words.

“Thank you,” she whispered against your shoulder, her voice quiet and sincere.

You smiled softly as you squeezed her back, Wanda’s hand brushing comfortingly over your arm from where she sat behind you.

As the night settled deeper into stillness, you made yourself more comfortable against Wanda, her arms wrapping around you like a second blanket. The couch seemed softer with her behind you, her warmth radiating through the room like a quiet fire. Her fingers had resumed their slow, absentminded path through your hair, each touch sending a calming wave through you.

You sighed contentedly, stealing a glance at Natasha, who sat stretched out in the armchair across the room. Her glass of wine dangled lazily from her fingers, the sharpness of her usual demeanor softened by the glow of the Christmas lights. Your heart warmed as you thought about earlier that morning when you’d exchanged gifts in private.

The painting Wanda had made for you—a breathtaking swirl of color that somehow captured both serenity and fire—already hung above the bed. The fact that she had spent hours, days even, creating something so perfect for you left you speechless. Wanda had insisted it wasn’t a big deal, brushing her fingers over your cheek when she gave it to you, but you knew better. That painting was a piece of her soul, and now it was yours to keep.

Natasha, in her typical Natasha way, had managed to surprise both of you with an upcoming getaway. “Just the three of us this time,” she had said firmly, pointing a finger at you as Wanda watched with amused affection. “Swear it. No ‘oops, I invited everyone’ like last time.”

You had smiled shyly, your cheeks warm under her gaze. “I promise,” you’d murmured, and the rare smile Natasha gave you in return had felt like the sun breaking through clouds.

Your own gifts had been simpler but no less heartfelt—handmade books similar to the one you gifted Yelena, pieced together with love and care. The pages were filled with photos and memories of the moments you shared with them, every snapshot holding a story: lazy Sunday mornings, playful smirks exchanged across rooms, quiet evenings spent in soft lamplight. For Wanda, you’d left empty pages, spaces for her to fill with her drawings. When she’d flipped through the book earlier, her fingers tracing the pages, her eyes had shimmered with unshed tears.

“This…” Wanda had whispered, pausing as though the words wouldn’t come. She looked at you then, her expression raw and tender. “This is beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

The way she had held you in that moment—like you were something precious and fragile—made your chest ache in the best possible way. You’d leaned into her embrace, letting the weight of her love settle around you, filling every corner of your heart.

Now, as the night moved along, the house gradually grew quieter. Maria, Pepper, and Val were the first to leave, their goodbyes punctuated with tired laughter and lingering hugs. Pepper promised to call in the morning, while Maria winked and whispered something to Val that made her chuckle as they stepped out into the cold night air.

Not long after, Agatha and Rio followed. Agatha, despite her perpetual sarcasm, hugged Wanda with genuine warmth before leaving. “You’re lucky I like you,” she teased, earning a dry laugh from Wanda as Rio waved at you all over her shoulder.

With their departure, the house grew quieter still, leaving only the four of you: Natasha, Wanda, Yelena, and you. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, the Christmas tree casting a golden glow across the room. The music had shifted to something softer, a slow instrumental rendition of an old carol that carried through the space like a whisper.

Yelena lay sprawled on the floor near the tree, her legs propped up on the edge of the couch as she absentmindedly hummed along to the music. Natasha sat nearby, a rare contentment softening her sharp features as she sipped the last of her wine.

Wanda shifted slightly beneath you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as she continued running her fingers through your hair. “You tired, Sweetie?” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

You shook your head, though your eyelids were starting to feel heavy. “Not yet.”

Natasha caught Wanda’s eye and smirked knowingly. “She’s lying.”

“I’m resting,” you protested, though your voice lacked any conviction.

Yelena snorted from her spot on the floor, reaching out to spin a forgotten ornament dangling near her fingers. “She’s probably dreaming about the dog-poop snow angel.”

You groaned, hiding your face against Wanda’s shoulder as laughter rippled through the room. Natasha leaned back in her chair, with a fond smile.

The teasing faded after a while, leaving behind a softer, gentler quiet. The four of you sat together, wrapped in the glow of the lights and the gentle hum of the music, the kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled with words. Natasha and Yelena bickered softly about something inconsequential, but their voices were low and affectionate, as though neither wanted to disturb the peace of the room.

Wanda’s arms tightened subtly around you, and you tilted your head to look up at her. Her gaze was soft as she met yours, her green eyes glowing faintly in the firelight. “Merry Christmas,” she murmured.

Your heart swelled as you smiled up at her. “Merry Christmas, Wanda.”

Natasha wandered over to where you and Wanda were nestled together on the couch, her playful smirk giving you only a second’s warning before she draped herself over both of you. “Natasha!” Wanda protested as the redhead covered you with her body, pinning you between them like a human blanket.

Natasha grinned wickedly. “What? You looked too cozy.”

Before you could respond, she blew raspberries against your neck, the unexpected sensation making you squirm and erupt into laughter. Wanda released an exasperated huff beneath you, her hands pushing halfheartedly against Natasha’s side.

“Do you mind?” Wanda muttered, though the fondness in her tone gave her away.

Natasha only leaned closer, pressing you down further as you giggled breathlessly, your cheeks aching from smiling. “I’m very comfortable, actually,” Natasha teased, her voice muffled as she nuzzled against your shoulder.

With the laughter still lingering on your lips, Natasha shifted and pressed a kiss to the corner of your lips, slow and tender, a stark contrast to her earlier antics. Your eyes fluttered closed, the playful atmosphere melting away for just a moment. But then Wanda’s voice broke through, dry and unimpressed.

“Please, Nat. I’d like to keep breathing.”

Natasha pulled back with a low chuckle, finally rolling off you and stretching out across the floor. “Fine, fine. I’ll let you live—for now.”

You laughed as you slid off the couch, joining Natasha and sprawling out beside Yelena on the carpet. You mimicked her pose perfectly, arms spread out and legs lazily crossed at the ankles.

Yelena turned her head, her expression softening as she caught your gaze. “You’re such a copycat,” she murmured playfully, a smile tugging at her lips.

“And you love it,” you teased back, earning a small laugh as you both settled into a quiet moment. The music played softly in the background, and you hummed along to the familiar tune.

Then, as the next song began you noticed Yelena’s gaze shift upward. Her head tilted slightly, and you followed her line of sight to where Wanda had risen from the couch. Without a word, Wanda crossed the room, her bare feet silent against the rug, and tugged Natasha’s hand, pulling her up with ease.

“What’s this?” you whispered, quirking an eyebrow at Yelena.

She groaned dramatically, rolling her eyes. “They do this every year,” she muttered, though there was no real annoyance in her tone—only that sibling fondness that comes with knowing someone too well.

“Do what?” you asked, your curiosity piqued.

“Just watch,” Yelena said, her voice resigned but soft.

You turned back just in time to see Wanda lead Natasha further toward the Christmas tree. Natasha grumbled something under her breath, though she didn’t resist. A faint smile tugged at her lips, betraying her enjoyment as Wanda spun her around, their fingers lacing together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The golden lights from the tree cast a soft glow over them, their silhouettes swaying gently as Wanda pulled Natasha closer. The music carried them, a melody drifting through the air, and you realized that Wanda wasn’t just pulling Natasha into a dance—this was something that was theirs.

“Don’t cry, snowman, not in front of me, Who’ll catch your tears if you can’t catch me, darling? If you can’t catch me, darling…”

Wanda’s voice was quiet, a tender murmur at first, as though she was singing just for Natasha. Her fingers intertwined with Natasha’s, pulling her closer as they swayed. Natasha’s body followed hers without hesitation—her movements were unhurried, almost careful, as if she, too, understood the weight of this moment.

From your place on the floor, you stilled completely, unable to take your eyes off them. Beside you, even Yelena’s snarky remarks died in her throat.

“Don’t cry, snowman, don’t leave me this way, A puddle of water can’t hold me close, baby…”

Wanda’s voice grew steadier now, the words flowing like silk through the quiet. You felt something shift in the air, the melody curling softly around your chest and tugging at something deep inside you. It wasn’t just a song—it was a promise, a memory, a plea wrapped in lyrics and held between the two women who had always known how to find one another.

Natasha let out a soft exhale, something in her sharp edges melting away as Wanda pulled her in closer, spinning her under the warm glow of the tree. You could see it in the way Natasha looked at her—how her usual guardedness softened into something pure and unspoken.

Wanda sang on, her voice laced with a quiet fragility:

“I want you to know that I’m never leaving, ‘Cause I’m Mrs. Snow, till death we’ll be freezing…”

The words struck a chord in you, reverberating with a meaning you couldn’t ignore. Never leaving. Your throat tightened as you realized what they were really saying—what Wanda was saying. It wasn’t just for Natasha; it was for all of you. A reassurance, a vow spoken through the music. A reminder of the moments lost and the ones still waiting to be lived.

“Yeah, you are my home, my home for all seasons, So come on, let’s go.”

Wanda’s voice broke just slightly on the last word, a subtle tremor that lingered in the air, but Natasha didn’t let her falter. With a small, teasing smile, she spun Wanda around this time—carefully, almost reverently—before pulling her back into her arms. For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. They just stood there, forehead to forehead, their silhouettes bathed in the tree’s gentle light.

You swallowed hard, blinking away the prickling in your eyes as you looked away, unable to hold the sight for too long. It was beautiful in the way things often are when they hold too much truth.

Wanda’s voice resumed, even softer now, like a whisper against Natasha’s shoulder:

“Let’s go below zero and hide from the sun, I’ll love you forever where we’ll have some fun, Yes, let’s hit the North Pole and live happily, Please don’t cry no tears now, it’s Christmas, baby…”

The final words lingered, stretching out into the quiet like a fragile thread. It wasn’t lost on you how deeply they echoed into the space between you all—how they whispered of a time when the world hadn’t felt this whole.

Beside you, Yelena turned her head slightly, catching your gaze with a rare look of understanding that she didn’t need to put into words. You forced a small smile in response before looking back at Wanda and Natasha.

Natasha finally spoke, her voice low and rough, carrying a weight that didn’t quite match her usual teasing bravado. “We might not have to dance to this song anymore,” she murmured, her gaze flickering over to you where you laid on the floor with Yelena.

Wanda paused, her smile softening as she followed Natasha’s gaze, her eyes lingering on you for a long, quiet moment. The warmth in her expression deepened, something unspoken passing between the three of you that left your chest aching in the most beautiful way.

When Wanda turned back to Natasha, she pulled her closer, resting her forehead against hers. “No,” Wanda whispered, her voice tender and full of quiet certainty. “We don’t.”

Natasha’s lips twitched into a small, vulnerable smile, just as Wanda tilted her head and kissed her softly—slow, tenderly, and filled with years of love.

“I love you,” Wanda murmured against her lips, her voice carrying the weight of every unspoken promise.

Natasha let out a small, almost breathless laugh, as though the words had knocked something loose in her. “I love you too, Moya lyubov,” she replied, her tone equally soft, but steady as stone.

The two of them stayed there for a moment, wrapped up in each other, as if the world outside had ceased to exist. When Wanda returned to the couch you padded over and slid down between her legs again, pressing back into Wanda’s front. She didn’t say anything, but her fingers brushed gently through your hair, anchoring you to her in that quiet way she always did.

The music shifted again, but no one seemed ready to break the spell. Natasha reclaimed her seat near Yelena, and you could hear them exchanging soft words, though their voices barely registered. The fire crackled faintly in the background, the light of the flames dancing on the walls.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Wanda murmured quietly, her voice barely above a whisper against your temple.

You nodded, though your chest still ached with unspoken words. “Yeah,” you said softly, turning just enough to look up at her. “I’m more than okay.”

Wanda pressed her lips to your forehead, lingering there for a moment as if to confirm you were really here—that all of you were. “Good,” she whispered.

Across the room, Natasha sat quietly for a while, her gaze flickering between the fire, Yelena—now dozing peacefully on the floor—and the two of you curled up on the couch. She swirled her glass absently, her expression thoughtful, as though she were weighing whether or not to break the peaceful silence.

Eventually, she stood with a stretch and wandered over, her footsteps soft against the rug. Without saying a word, she sank onto the couch beside Wanda, nudging your legs lightly to make room.

“Move over, you two,” Natasha murmured, her voice low but teasing as she settled in.

Wanda huffed in mock protest but shifted slightly, pulling you closer into her arms to make space. Natasha, for all her sharp edges, leaned back against the cushions with a soft sigh, her shoulder brushing against Wanda’s. For a moment, she looked at you both, something unreadable in her gaze before it softened into something far more familiar—home.

“You couldn’t resist, huh?” you teased, lifting your head just enough to look at her.

Natasha quirked a brow, her lips twitching into a small smile. “You’d miss me if I didn’t, my little duckling.”

You didn’t argue, because she was right.

Without another word, Natasha draped an arm casually over the back of the couch, her fingers grazing the tips of Wanda’s hair. Wanda let out a contented hum, leaning her head briefly against Natasha’s shoulder before resuming her soft strokes through your hair.

The three of you sat in companionable silence, the fire crackling softly in the hearth and the faint sounds of Christmas music still lingering in the background. Yelena let out a sleepy snore from her spot on the floor, which made Natasha shake her head fondly.

As you rested against Wanda, Natasha’s presence now beside you, the feeling settled deeper in your chest—this was everything. After everything you had been through, every moment lost and every piece stitched back together, this was where you belonged. You were home.

Wanda shifted slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. Natasha mirrored the motion moments later, dropping a soft kiss against your temple, the warmth of their love wrapped around you, a tear slipped down your cheek. Natasha’s thumb caught it as it slipped down your cheek as she caressed your skin tenderly.

Wanda’s hum started again, low and soft, her voice carrying over the quiet of the room as she repeated the final words, almost like a lullaby:

“Please don’t cry no tears now, it’s Christmas, baby…”

And you didn’t.

#the color of you #one shot for the color of you #wandanat x reader #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat #one shot #established relationship #christmas one shot #I'm stuck so I wrote this instead #lesbian fanfiction #lesbian poly

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