WandaNat Oneshots

We Live in Harmony

Established Relationship

Natasha is elegant, she is graceful. She fights like a dancer, moving rhythmically around opponents to a melody only she can hear. She points her toes when she stretches and hums as she strikes. And, when she thinks Wanda isn't watching, she dances as she sweeps. Her partner is the broom, the kitchen utensils her audience, and their home is her stage. Wanda is her secret admirer.

Wanda is strong, she is tough. She fights like a warrior, a charging bull in the middle of a battle. Her magic is hard, able to knock grown men off their feet. She doesn't pounce, she attacks. And, somewhere in the back of their closet is a box that holds three partially burnt images of Wanda's childhood. At the bottom of this box is a picture that she hopes Natasha never finds. Young Wanda is in a boxing ring with those classic red gloves strapped to her hands. Little does she know, Natasha has a duplicate of this photo that she keeps on her at all times.

Natasha is all seduction. She is lingering glances and heated touches. Her mission wardrobe has a special section for lingerie. Everything she does it tactical, a move that gets her one step closer to her mark's bed. When she joined S.H.E.I.L.D, sex was mostly cut out of her missions but she still sometimes sways unpleasant business men with a few old tricks.

Wanda is all toughness, she had to be when growing up on the streets. She'll beat the answers out of a person, sometimes with her magic but more often with her words. She's somehow the Avenger's best interrogator and probably its scariest too. The people that have wronged her are often left with bruises and cut lips. She's not tactical, she's strong and angry and ready for a fight.

Natasha is chaos. She wears socks that don't match and shoes with different colored laces. Her bathroom cabinet is overflowing with half-empty bottles and ten different types of perfume. When she writes mission reports, her handwriting is incomprehensible and her notes are scrawled around the edges. She's messy and unorganized and she loses her keys every other week.

Wanda is order. She gets ready the same way every morning and goes to bed the same way every night. She makes lists for fun and is more comfortable when everything is planned. Any mission she plans is organized down to the second and she's not satisfied until she's gone over every possible outcome. Her room has almost no decoration, it's plain and clean almost impossibly bland. It's organized.

Natasha is hot. She survived Russian winters with a thin blanket and concrete floors. Living in a New York apartment with heating is very much different. Her body runs warm, but is never clammy. She can set Wanda's body alight with just the tips of her fingertips and can trail paths of heat down her skin.

Wanda is cold. Growing up in Eastern Europe did not help her build up an immunity to the chilly winters. She grew up playing in the snow, all bundled up in scarves and heavy coats. Her feet are always blocks of ice, weapons of cold that make Natasha squeal whenever they brush against her legs.

Natasha is somebody. Her face has been plastered all over the world on several occasions and anywhere she goes, whispers of the Black Widow follow. It would be possible to fill an entire scrapbook with newspaper headlines of her and more people have asked for her autographs than she thought possible. There's even a statue dedicated to her somewhere (she's never visited it). And Natasha absolutely hates it.

Wanda is a newbie, a hero that has very few followers. The public knows little of her and where she came from and most of the information they do have is not very good. She's a mystery, lives in the shadows of the more famous superheroes. When history books are written, her name will not be in them. Yet.

Natasha is wild. She's untamable curly hair and deadly red lipstick. Her nails are filed into claws and painted a different color every week. She attacks intruders with unrestrained abandon. When she fights, she scratches and bites and pinches until her victims are defeated. She prowls the battlefield like a lion stalking its prey and acts like one too.

Wanda is tame. She's subdued smiles and polite handshakes. With ironed shirts and straightened ponytails without a single hair out of place, she's a model for the chaotic avengers. She can sweet talk any uptight political leader and is a master at teaching her friends.

Natasha is rough. Her calloused hands scrape across Wanda's skin and leave light bruises when she's not careful. She is made of steel, was forged in fire and made unbreakable. Sometimes (often) she injures her sparring partners on accident. Her roughness is also what brings her the most guilt. Who wants to hold the hands of a killer?

Wanda is gentle. She's slow kisses and tired whispers in the dead of night. Her hair is the softest thing Natasha has ever had the pleasure of running her hands through and her skin feels brand new after every shower. She wears warm sweaters in the comfort of their home and slides around on fluffy socks. And, when she loses her balance, her laughter is the most beautiful thing Natasha has ever heard. She holds Natasha's hand without hesitation, walks around hand-in-hand with her head up high like this is the proudest she could ever be.

Together, they are passion and desire, the heat that pools in your belly when you look at the one you desire. They're butterflies in your stomach and feather-light kisses on your cheek. They are homemade meals and blankets you can cuddle under. They're hugs that could last forever and warm showers on a rainy day. Together, they are love.

This is also an old short piece of writing I found. It's a little weird but I decided it was worth posting.