#tony x francis

[admireforever]

Nine Perfect Strangers

[underwhelmingalchemist]

Sometimes a family is a lesbian school teacher boxer who plagiarizes encyclopedias, a high femme robot housewife with the brain of a dead woman in her basement, a bisexual kid with a gun, and his pet dog head full of assorted wires/supercomputer

Also Tony is there sometimes

[raynecloudcreations]

My take of the peachyville folks, it’s kinda easy to tell who’s my fav

[avengerscompound]

Avengers & X-Men: Axis (2014) #3

[unbroken-teacup]

happy pride month

every peachyville horror pc is queer🏳️‍🌈

[fern-parallels]

[atinyaccount]

Favourite Ships!

This is going multifandom cause I wanna fire the canon!

open discussion im interested in anyone's ships! Let's chat! :D DNDADS

Inside Scoop [Britannica & Francis]: Every time they're on screen they bicker like they're brother and sister. No one can tell me otherwise!

Miltannica [Britannica/Milton]: Enemies to friends to lovers

Info Dump [Britannica & Blake]: Father daughter!

Son of a Gun [Blake & Francis]: Blake adopts Francis... wait no Francis adopted Blake!

Grarco [Grant/Marco]: The Husbands!!!!! Grant's anchor and Marco's love <3

Narcotics [Nick Foster/Marco Li]: hehe crack ship

Granterry [Grant/Terry]: best friends to lovers!

Swiftli [Lincoln/Taylor]: also best friends to lovers

The Magnus Archives

Jmart [Jon/Martin]: It grew on me

Spooky Happenings [Jon/Tim]: I believe that's what they're called

Martim [Martin/Tim]

Date Everything

Security Measure [Dorian/Tony]: I see them as a Queer Platonic Relationship. Dorian isn't into romance still but Tony likes Dorian but also wants to respect Dorian's boundaries

Locked In [Keith/Dorian]: *chucks keith at a wall*

Tequila Sunrise [Beverly/Skylar]: Beverly has a huge crush on Skylar but is worried about her seeing her at her worst.

Abel/Dasha: IT'S SO CUTE!!!! We need more content of them over here guys!

DicePlay [Chance/Parker]

Abel & Tony: They're father son found family mark my words!

Short Rest [Chance/Mateo]

TV Kings [King Dice/Vox]: Am I in either fandom? No! But this is my crack ship XD

[anti-cyra]

miscellaneous masterlist

— just a collection of character bots that can really only be described as my obsessions at some point in my life lmao so i figured they deserved their own bots

2025 EDIT: Some of these bots may have been deleted off of c.ai by the system, which I have no control over :( Bots will be moved to Janitor AI instead.

Peter Parker (TASM Canon AU) — Janitor AI

Peter Parker (MCU Canon AU) — Janitor AI

Tony Stark (Canon AU) — Janitor AI

Loki (Canon AU) — Janitor AI

Loki (Thor 3: Ragnarok AU) — Janitor AI

Loki (Canon AU) — Janitor AI

Loki (Post Avengers 2012 AU) — Janitor AI

Loki (Thor 2011 AU) — Janitor AI

ฅ^._.^ฅ Future Plans: Miguel O'Hara

Casper (from A Date With Death) — Janitor AI

Jax (from The Amazing Digital Circus) — Janitor AI

Francis Mosses (from That's Not My Neighbor!) — Janitor AI

Jel (from Palia) — Janitor AI

Reth (from Palia) — Janitor AI

Reth and Jel (from Palia) — Janitor AI

Date Everything (Sub-Masterlist) - Eddie, Eddie and Volt

Clark Kent (Superman 2025) (Co-workers AU)

Clark Kent (Superman 2025) (Boyfriend AU)

ฅ^._.^ฅ Future Plans: Jack Frost (from Rise of the Guardians), Hiccup Haddock III (from How to Train Your Dragon), Danny Fenton (from Danny Phantom)

[askthenextavengersblog]

vines pt. 1

[fytrijh156jandarma]

Papa Francis Whose hand did she kiss?🎸 Offical Video

[ym4yum1]

Also at Wattpad! 😍

Hi there!

After almost 10 years 🤦🏻‍♀️ the story of the First Halloween has come out😅 The original idea has evolved a lot, and I'm having fun writing the final part. I hope to be able to post everything up until Halloween 🤞🏻 Anyway, if anyone is still interested, please check out Fanfiction or AO3 🙏🏻 I feel like I'm late to the party and everyone has already left... interests have changed to something more trending 🫤

But I'm still in love with the couple, and the whole universe around them. So I'll keep on going 😍

Kisses and hugs, Mari 🤗😘

P.S. Para leitores em português, fiz uma versão adaptada! Fanfiction e AO3 😍

[keithyp00]

'*•.¸♡ Stupid Cupid, Stop Picking On Me ♡¸.•*'

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Warnings/Tags: slow-burn, romance, humor, fluff, slight angst, mutual pining, romantic tension, morning sweetness, vulnerability

Song Inspiration: Stupid Cupid by Connie Francis

Word Count:2.1K

Author Note: Hi again! This fic has been stuck in my head all day so here I am writing it and pushing some of my other fic ideas back a couple of days. My last one didn't do as well as I was hoping overnight so if you like this one please go check out Timeless. Thank you guys! (And Happy Mother's Day for those who celebrate!)

Please do not copy or translate any of my works. Thank you!

You weren't exactly sure when Bucky Barnes became your problem.

Maybe it was when Steve asked you- sweet, pleading Steve- to check in on him after the whole time-travel thing. Maybe it was when you saw Bucky sulking at a farmer's market like a feral cat trying to adapt to a domestic life, poking at ripe peaches like they had personally offended him. Or maybe it was when you found yourself holding two coffee cups and wondering why one of them always seemed to be for him.

"Stupid Cupid," you muttered, tripping over a sidewalk crack. "Quit messing with my head."

Because how else could you explain? The flutter in your chest every time Bucky narrowed his eyes at you. The way your stomach flipped when he threw that infuriating little smirk your way- like he knew something that you shouldn't.

You should hate him.

He was moody. He didn't text back. He once told you that your playlist sounded like 'a sock hop and a migraine had a baby.' And yet, when he stood too close in the kitchen of your shared safehouse, or brushed his hand against yours when he passed the remote, you felt like a walking daydream.

______________________________________________________________

It was Tony's lake house, technically. But since he wasn't around anymore- and Sam insisted Bucky get used to 'civilian life'- you'd all rotated through it like some kind of Airbnb. For the last month, it had just been you and him. And your rapidly imploding patience.

"Can you not stare- no, glower- at the mailman like he owes you something?" You asked one sunny morning, squinting through the screen door as Bucky stood on the porch, his arms crossed like some sort of bouncer.

He simply didn't answer, which infuriated you even more.

You groaned, sipping your coffee and reminding yourself to not shove him into the lake. Because despite the grump, despite the sarcasm, despite the fact that he wore gloves in the middle of July sometimes- he was good. He was thoughtful, sometimes in ways that snuck up on you.

Like how he left Post-Its on your laptop that said, 'Eat something.' Or how he'd fixed the wobbly leg on your favorite chair without saying a word. Or how he stood outside your room every night, headphones in, until you fell asleep just to 'make sure it was safe.'

And yeah- maybe you noticed the way his hair curled after a shower. Or how his voice went all gravel and hush when he said your name. Or how he smelled like cedarwood and mystery.

But that didn't mean you liked him. Right?

______________________________________________________________

It was the pie that broke you.

Not your spine in a sparring match. Not the blackout you both endured during a rogue power surge. Not even the time he carried you through mud because you twisted your ankle.

No. It was the goddamn cherry pie.

You were baking. Sort of. Trying to, anyway. The crust was partially uneven, your hands were sticky, and you were muttering something about 'defeating the patriarchy through pastry.'

He leaned in the doorway, arms folded. Watching. Always watching.

"You're talking to the dough," he stated.

You didn't look up. "She's rude. She needs discipline."

Bucky snorted- snorted- and you stared at him like he'd grown another metal arm.

"Did you just laugh?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I don't laugh."

"Tell that to the dough," you snapped, cheeks hot. "What do you want, Barnes?"

"I smelled sugar," he said, shameless. "Was hoping you'd share."

You rolled your eyes. "I thought you didn't like sweets?"

His voice went low. Dangerous. "I like yours."

Your hands froze in the leftover flour.

And suddenly, you weren't thinking about the pie. You were thinking about the way he looked at you sometimes- like he couldn't decide if he wanted to kiss you or run. Like you were both a threat and a safehouse.

"Stupid Cupid," you muttered again, flustered. "I swear to God-"

"What?"

"Nothing."

The pie actually came out fairly decent, the edges of the crust a little burnt, but fairly tolerable. And Bucky, he ate the whole thing, or most of it anyway.

______________________________________________________________

It got worse after that.

Every glance lingered too long. Every argument had an edge of flirtation behind it. You kept pretending not to notice the way he always found a reason to sit beside you. How his knees would bump beneath the table. How he started playing your music in the kitchen.

And when you finally snapped one night- pacing on the porch, wine in hand, muttering about how, 'he's ruining everything with those ridiculous blue eyes'- you hadn't realized he was standing in the doorway behind you.

He pushed his body off the doorframe and walked toward the railing of the porch, his expression incredibly too smug for your liking.

"I'm ridiculous now?"

You flinched, whipping around. "Jesus- do you sneak for fun?"

"Occupational hazard." His smirk widened. "What else did you say about my eyes?"

"Nothing," you said quickly. Too quickly. "Shut up."

He stepped closer. "Make me."

You blinked. Then laughed. Loud, bright, and disbelieving.

"What are you, twelve?"

"I was," he deadpanned. "Once."

You rolled your eyes. "You're impossible."

And then he said it. Quiet. Honest. Barely audible beneath the breeze. "You make it hard."

You blinked again. "What?"

He cleared his throat. Looked away. "To stay... detached."

The wine slipped from your fingers. Luckily, the bottle was already empty.

You stared at him. At the scars on his knuckles. The lashes that framed those godforsaken eyes. The lip he kept biting like he regretted saying anything.

And you realized- he wasn't teasing.

He meant it.

Stupid. Damned. Cupid.

You stepped forward. He didn't flinch.

"I don't want detached," you said softly

He looked at you. Really looked. Like you were sunlight and danger and the last good thing in the world.

His voice cracked. "I'm not easy to love."

"I don't want easy either."

You reached for him. Gloved hand, then metal. He let you, but you heard his breathing stutter. And when you leaned in- testing the waters, testing fate- he met you halfway.

It wasn't fireworks.

It was softer. Stranger. The kind of kiss that steals your balance and leaves you wondering where you end and they begin.

When you finally pulled back, you smiled.

"Still think I talk too much?"

He nodded. "Absolutely."

Then he kissed you again. Harder.

______________________________________________________________

Later, tangled on the porch swing with his arm around you and your head on his shoulder, you hummed a familiar tune. Under your breath. Just loud enough for him to hear.

"Stupid Cupid, stop pickin' on me..."

He groaned. "If you start singing that in the morning-"

"You'll what?" You teased. "Fall even more in love with me?"

He didn't answer. But the way he pulled you closer said enough.

______________________________________________________________

You woke up with his hoodie under your cheek and a breeze on your knees.

The sun filtered through the curtains inside like a lazy golden hand, dust swirling in the air like dandelions. You blinked, registering three things:

You were curled up on the porch swing.

Bucky Barnes was asleep beside you.

His metal arm was around your waist like it belonged there.

"Stupid Cupid," you murmured again, though it came out softer this time. Less bitter. Almost... giddy.

His chest rose and fell in a rhythm you were already memorizing. Peaceful. Unarmored. Mouth parted slightly, lashes casting shadows, hair falling into his face.

You wanted to touch him.

Not in the hungry, let's-make-out-on-the-porch kind of way. You simply wanted to run your fingers through his hair. Trace the scar near his eyebrow. Press your palm to the pace just under his collarbone where he always kept his tension.

You settled for tucking his hoodie around his side, trying not to shiver from the early morning air.

"You're staring," he said, voice husky with sleep.

You yelped. "I-no, I was just-"

"Keep lying. You're adorable when you panic."

Your face flushed and Bucky grinned as a response. "So. We kissed."

You tucked your knees under your chin. "We did."

He finally looked at you, blinking slowly. "How do you feel about that?"

"Depends."

"On?"

"On whether you're going to brood about it for three days and avoid me."

He let out a quiet huff of laughter. "I'd never avoid you."

"Really? Because last month you avoided Sam for hating on your music taste."

"That was justified."

You rolled your eyes and smacked his arm- flesh, not metal. The little grin that flickered on his lips made your stomach tumble.

"So what does this mean?" You asked quietly. "Us. The... kissing."

He went still. Then sat up, brushing his hair back with one hand.

"It means," he said slowly, "that I want more."

More?

More of you? More kissing? More sleepless nights lying next to each other on a porch swing, tangled up in feelings too big to name?

You swallowed. "Okay."

His eyes searched yours. "Okay?"

You nodded. "Yeah. But you have to stop the staring problem, especially at strangers, I agree with Sam on that one."

"No promises."

______________________________________________________________

You didn't talk about it for a few days. Not directly, anyway.

But everything shifted.

He cooked breakfast before you got up- black coffee, toast, eggs that were slightly overcooked but made with obvious care. You found him waiting on the couch every evening with a blanket folded beside him like an invitation. He started brushing your hand every time you passed him something. Not an accident. Not anymore.

You tried not to let your heart explode about it.

Didn't work.

Especially not when he started calling you 'Doll' without a trace of irony.

Or when he found an old record player in the attic, fixed it, and played your favorite 60s vinyl like it was nothing.

Or when he got jealous over a guy in town who complimented your outfit and sulked for the next hour.

______________________________________________________________

It came to a head one evening during a thunderstorm.

You were barefoot, twirling in the kitchen while "Stupid Cupid" played on the record player- loud and cheeky, your voice warbling off-key along with it.

"Stupid Cupid, you're a real mean guy-"

"Jesus Christ," Bucky muttered behind you, towel around his shoulders, still damp from fixing the gutters in the rain. "You still know all the words?"

You spun, grinning. "I was born in the wrong decade."

"Clearly."

He crossed the kitchen slowly. Red Henley sticking to his chest. Hair dripping onto his forehead. You didn't realize you stopped breathing until he was right in front of you, blue eyes bright, towel abandoned.

"You like this song because it reminds you of me, huh?"

You swallowed. "Maybe."

His hand brushed your waist. "You like me, doll?"

You nodded, heart pounding. "Maybe."

"Then shut up and dance with me."

You didn't think. You just fell into him.

He swayed with you under the soft crackle of vinyl, your feet slipping against his boots, your laughter dying against the fabric of his shirt.

"I'm getting you soaked," he said into your hair.

"Can confirm," he mumbled.

He choked on a laugh. "It wasn't a question- god, you're a menace."

"Your menace," you whispered.

He froze. Pulled back. Looked at you. And then he kissed you. Slow, deep, reverent.

It didn't feel like the one you shared on the porch. This one felt like a promise.

______________________________________________________________

Later, after changing into dry clothes and curling up beside him on the couch, you whispered the question that had been living under your tongue for days.

"Do I scare you?"

He blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"I mean... you never let people in. You barely let Sam in. And now you're-" you gestured between you. "Letting me in. Doesn't that terrify you?"

He exhaled. Then reached for your hand, metal fingers wrapping around yours.

"It does," he said. "But not because of you. Because I don't want to ruin it."

You stared at him. All of him. The scars, the war, the tenderness.

"You couldn't ruin this if you tried."

He looked away. "I've ruined things before."

You tilted his face toward you with your fingertips.

"Then don't run," you whispered. "When it gets hard. When I yell because you left dishes in the sink. When I forget to say goodnight. Just... stay."

His jaw flexed. "You'd want me to stay? Even when I'm a mess?"

You smiled. "Especially then."

______________________________________________________________

That night, you fell asleep with your head on his chest, listening to the storm fade into silence and his heartbeat slow to something steady. Something safe.

"Stupid Cupid," you whispered one last time into the dark.

And Bucky- half asleep, fingers tracing lazy circles on your arm- mumbled back, "Yeah... but I'm glad he chose to pick on you."

[amethystarachnid]

⋆˚࿔ MASTERLIST 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Hello my dear readers, here you’ll find the links to all the works you can find on this profile. Check my bio for request status, but if you have any questions my inbox is always open, I write for both the X-Men and the MCU movies. English isn’t my first language so feel free to correct me if you find some mistakes (but please be kind).

I hope you’ll like my works!

Ivy Rose

make a request following these rules if you want <3

IVY ROSE'S GAMES ᡣ𐭩

click here to read the master list! ->

Steve G. Rogers

Little Star

Matchmaking

Happy Tears

Under the Mistletoe

A Place to Stay - part I

A Place to Stay - part II

Christmas Lights

Marriage

Prom

Anthony 'Tony' E. Stark

Check Tony's Masterlist

James B. “Bucky” Barnes

Promise

Bucky Barnes as a Girl Dad - drabble

Opposites - part I

Opposites - part II

Bet

Operation Restore Christmas Spirit (Bucky x fem!reader x Sam)

New Year Eve with the Kids

Stickers

Best Friends

The Princess and The Soldier (fanfic)

Tournament

Thor Odinson

Baby lightning

Thor Odinson as a Girl Dad - drabble

Lightning on Skates

Choices

Pietro Maximoff

Road Trip

Wanda Maximoff

Love Letter

Loki Laufeyson

Forbidden

Memories

Bound by Duty

Midgardian Feast

Christmas Road Trip

Mr. Grinch - part I

Mr. Grinch - part II

No One Mourn the Wicked

The Royal Lovers - part I

Pretending

Nightmares

Stephen V. Strange

A Sorcerer's Christmas

Sam T. Wilson

Operation Restore Christmas Spirit (Bucky x fem!reader x Sam)

Wisdom

Home

Natasha A. Romanoff

Caroling & Snowball fight (platonic)

Swapped

No Pretending Now

Peter B. Parker

(Not so) Secret Admirer

James Logan Howlett

Mutant Bodyguard - part I

Mutant Bodyguard - part II

Mutant Bodyguard - part III

Apocalyptic Love (Logan x fem!reader x Deadpool)

Sugar & Flour

Wade Wilson (Deadpool)

Apocalyptic Love (Logan x fem!reader x Deadpool)

Operation Make You Not Hate The Universe

Charles Francis Xavier

Decay — The Matter Maelstrom (fanfic)

[raynecloudcreations]

Cars au Tony Collette X Charles

Tony is a 1958 Edsel Villager

Charles is a 1963 Volkswagen Beetle deluxe ragtop

[sgiandubh]

Bravery

This ask was so brave, we (the poster and I) both agreed to offer her protection. So, as promised, her identity is hidden, although probably known to CaitrionaTony & her clone, Caittony.

The X screenshot is authentic, though:

The ask, for those who use Google Translate:

'Hello. I'm the anonymous person who selected some of the many conversations I had with Caittony on X. She can't deny that she's the same CaiTony from Insta, as she herself pointed me to her account there.'

And here is CaitrionaTony admitting she is Caittony, translated by me:

'Do you know the Caittony account on Instagram?

Go there and you'll get many legit information.

You can be sure. S was not at the funeral. I watched it live on Facebook. It wasn't him.

And yes, Tony stayed with their son in his arms all the time, at the rear pew. And yes, it was her brother, Francis.

You can believe me or not.'

In her own words, y'all.

Thank you for your honesty, integrity and bravery, my dear.

I believe this is very clear, now. Loud and clear.

[sycamorelibrary754]

The Piggy Story

Summary: Yelena is Melina’s Secret Santa and takes a crack at a few handmade piggy presents!

Pairing: Yelena x reader (platonic), Natasha x reader, Alexei Alanovich Shostakov x reader (platonic) Melina Vostokoff x reader (platonic)

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: None

A/N: If you read Happy Thanksgiving, you will understand this story. If you didn’t, please enjoy the random silly fluffiness. 😂

Yelena had been acting suspiciously for two weeks, sneaking around and making everyone uneasy. She would disappear at night without letting you accompany her, which was unusual since you frequently joined her when she walked Fanny. Initially, you thought she might be gearing up for an undercover mission. Whenever you asked her about it, she would dodge the question, giving you a look that seemed to say, 'If I tell you, I'll have to kill you.' You had learned not to overthink your sister-in-law’s idiosyncrasies. If it was possible, they made you love her even more.

You were lounging in your comfy pajamas, engrossed in a game of cards with Wanda in her cozy room, when Natasha suddenly entered. "Hey, detka, have you seen Yelena? She was supposed to join me and Steve for a briefing twenty minutes ago."

No, I haven't," you said as you placed your cards face down on your lap. "Not since this morning, anyway.

“She’s been acting odd lately,” Nat commented.

While rearranging her cards, Wanda pointed out, "Odd in general, or odd for her because you know there’s a difference.

"That is true," you nodded, gesturing toward Wanda.

Natasha grumbled, "If you run into your best friend, would you tell her that her sister is going to kick her ass?"

"Sure thing, wifey," you chuckled, playfully saluting her and giving her a swift kiss on the lips.

Nat playfully rolled her eyes and teased, "It's a wonder I married you."

*^~^*

You couldn't contain your excitement as you and Yelena started putting up Christmas decorations around the compound the next day. Wearing your coziest Christmas sweater, adorned with festive patterns, you danced through the halls, humming cheerful tunes and happily hanging up ornaments and lights, infusing the entire space with holiday spirit.

“Dashing through the snow

In a one-horse open sleigh

Peter’s on the go

Laughing all the way

Bells on Fanny ring

Making Tony fight

Wanda wants to flip a coin

And sing this song tonight

Jingle bells, Clinton smells

Banner laid an egg

Ant mobile lost a wheel

And Loki got away

Hey!”

That was very nice, y/n; now, how about a White Christmas song to go with this delightful cup of hot cocoa topped with whipped cream?

"No can do, boo. Only one show per Christmas season," you said, as you sat together on the sofa.

You both savored a small sip of the rich chocolate beverage, watching the steam rise enticingly from the mug.

"Hey, did you know that one of Mom's pigs is named Clinton?" Yelena said with a sheepish grin.

"Is that so? I've only ever heard of Alexi," as you savor some of the whipped cream from the top of your hot cocoa.

“Mom named Alexi, and then she asked if Natasha and I would do the honors of naming the other two. Clinton was the poser’s choice.”

"I can't believe Nat never told me. What name did you choose?" You took another sip of your beverage, eagerly awaiting the answer.

“Sir Francis Bacon.”

You almost choke on your hot cocoa as you sputter, and it rolls down your chin. “That is adorable!” you exclaimed, reaching for a napkin. You’ll have to point out which is which when we go to your parents' house for Christmas next week.”

"Hey, you've got a little whipped cream on your cheek." Leaning in, Yelena sneakily licked it off.

"Oh my God! Who are you, Fanny?! I have no idea where your tongue has been! Ew! Get some hot water, get some disinfectant, get some iodine!" With a jolt, you lept up and dashed to the bathroom, leaving Yelena in fits of giggles on the floor.

*^~^*

The remaining week was filled with delightful Christmas-themed activities. As you snuggled up on the couch with my cherished blanket, preparing to watch "The Holiday" with the team, you noticed someone conspicuously absent.

"Where could Yelena be?" you mused aloud.

"In my lab," Tony said nonchalantly, casually tossing popcorn up into the air and effortlessly catching it in his mouth.

"Why?" you asked, slightly confused.

“Blondie wanted a private space to work on a project. I told her she could use the lab if she didn’t joyride any suits,” Tony explained.

“Yelena in your lab with unlimited access to nanotechnology.” Nat pondered, grabbing two Christmas cookies and offering you one before snuggling up beside you in your blanket ball.

"Go down there and see if she's up for watching the movie," you urged, tossing popcorn in Kate's direction.

"Why am I the one?" questioned the young archer.

"Since you're closer, and she's starting to freak me out," you explained.

"Don't worry about it, Y/N. FRIDAY is keeping an eye on her," Tony reassured.

*^~^*

You woke up at Melina and Alexi’s Christmas morning to the delicious smell of cinnamon rolls and coffee. You agreed to do Secret Santa with your wife’s family this year. You and Natasha were wearing your matching Christmas pajamas, ready to exchange presents, but Yelena was unusually eager and insisted on going first.

Guess what? I was your Secret Santa this year, Mama! I wanted to challenge myself and make a homemade gift for you," Yelena exclaimed as she reached for Melina's tablet on the counter and quickly tapped a few buttons on the touchscreen. "Hey boys, come on in!

The door creaked open, and in waddled all three of Melina’s beloved pigs, their little trotters pitter-pattering against the wooden floor. As the trio rounded the corner, they presented a charming sight - each adorned in a specially tailored vest. Alexi sported a vibrant red vest, Clinton rocked a regal purple one, and Sir Francis Bacon donned a cheerful orange number. Upon closer inspection, it was clear that each vest was meticulously handcrafted, complete with the pig's name beautifully embroidered. It was a display of piggy prestige at its finest.

“Surprise, Mama! Now, not only will the piggies be warm in the winter, but they are stylish individuals with many pockets!” Yelena declared.

"The pigs are sporting vests," Nat deadpanned. You gently squeezed her hand, silently urging her to play nice.

“Not vests, sestra. Pests! Piggy vests! My very own invention," Yelena clarified. "You can just call me the next Tony Stark.

"The pigs sporting Pests," you revised with a chuckle.

"Thank you very much, my dear! These are fantastic. I've always believed they needed some attire. The Russian winters are extremely harsh, and they truly deserve something exceptional," Melina exclaimed, planting a loving kiss on her younger daughter's cheek.

"Check it out, girls! Alexi's has the best Pest. He's a dead ringer for the Red Guardian, ready to go head-to-head with Captain America," Alexi exclaimed as he affectionately stroked his namesake.

“Oh my God, it’s like living in a Dr. Seuss book,” Nat joked.

"Who knew you were a crochet pro?" You turn to your best friend in surprise.

“I wasn't. No, no… Kate Bishop is the mastermind behind it. She taught me how to make it. All it took was $100 for the yarn and supplies, which I may have borrowed from Stark, and a promise to never show up again in the middle of the night unless it’s a real emergency,” Yelena explained.

"Is that where you were sneaking off to at all hours of the day and night?"The surprise is written all over your face.

"Where else did you think I was headed?" Yelena questioned.

Undercover in the Multiverse, I don't know!" Your face turned beet red the longer she looked at you. "You were scaring the crap out of everyone.

"Ha! That's hilarious. You're quite the comedian, y/n," she laughed, placing her hands on yours and Natasha's shoulders. "I don't want to give anything away, but by New Year's Eve, some stylish individuals will emerge from this group!" With that, she wrapped you and Nat in a warm, tight group hug.

Natasha's gaze met yours from behind Yelena's back, and a smile crept onto your face. It indeed was a merry Christmas.