Wandanat/ Scarletwidow oneshots

I Don't Know Why I Can't Kill You ( Part 4 )

Natasha awoke to a sound she'd never heard before like this.

The sound of someone else's breathing, of course accompanied by the sound of yelling from the tv.

She found herself smiling as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind the sleeping girl's perfect ear, only to be greeted with a soft snore, causing the Russian to chuckle.

Why was she acting like this?

She frowned.

No. No. This isn't right.

She quickly exited the room, making sure to lock the door behind her.

She made her way to her room, closing the door before letting herself fall onto the soft mattress.

She curled up into a ball.

Why was she feeling this way?

What was this warmth that filled her everytime she and Wanda touched?

Why did she have the overpowering urge to wrap her in a blanket and protect her from the outside world?

Why couldn't she stop thinking about her?

Wanda woke to the sounds of the tv, for a second she expected to open her eyes to the old abandoned building she and Pietro lived in, but of course she was greeted instead with an empty room.

Remembering the events leading up to her long nap, Wanda searched for the Russian, only to find the room empty.

She sighed.

She turned to the tv to see a scene that did not help her emotional confusion.

" I could help carry you if it really hurts."  Wanda watched as the young human graciously offered the amber eyed witch.

"Im fine! Who's Amity?" The flustered witch replied.

" And scoop!" The protagonist exclaimed gleefully, lifting the blushing green haired girl into her arms.

" Oh. Wow! Sports." The witch exclaimed.

The Sokovian groaned pausing the tv.

Why did she feel like that around Natasha?

' I didn't know you liked cartoons.'

Well at least it was smarter than ' oh. Wow! Sports.' But not by much.

Why couldn't she stop thinking about her intence, but caring eyes?

Her soft crimson lips.

Her fiery red hair.

Images filled her brain.

Images of her being pressed aginst the wall, her hands pinned on either side of  her head while soft lips attacked her own.

Images of those soft lips leaving trails of crimson lipstick as they kissed and sucked on her neck.

Images of those green eyes staring at her from in between her... NO! STOP IT!

Why was she thinking like this?

And why did these thoughts bring warmth to such an unexpected place?

She liked men, right?

Of course she did!

She loved their weird bulky biceps that looked like they were stuffed with base balls.

She loved their weird breastless hairy chests .

She loved that they always stare at her shamelessly and expect that she should fall in love with them at a simple utterence of a pickup line.