Redline (Bonus)
Thick sheets of water poured from the sky, turning the track into a hazardous mess. The FIA had delayed the start once, then twice, and now, the red flag was officially out before the race had even begun.
Cars sat motionless in the pit lane, engines off, tires cold, drivers waiting. The mechanics lingered by the garage doors, their radios crackling with updates from race control, but everyone already knew the truth.
The race wasn’t happening. Not now. The downpour was relentless. And that left you waiting. Your mind had been running through every possible scenario, memorizing every corner of the track, picturing every overtaking opportunity. And now? Now you were sitting in the garage, watching nothing happen.
The delay meant everything was on hold. No formation lap. No lights out. No adrenaline. Just the sound of rain hammering against the roof and the distant, muffled voices of team members discussing if the race would even start today.
You sighed, rubbing your temples. Your body was tense, your mind restless. You needed to shut it off. With a quiet huff, you grabbed your headphones, untangling the cord with slightly trembling fingers. You needed music, something to settle your nerves. Something to drown out the endless waiting.
That’s when you noticed it. A black jacket was draped over a chair nearby, thick and warm-looking. Without a second thought, you grabbed it. The moment you wrapped it around yourself, a familiar scent surrounded you. Leather. The faintest trace of expensive perfume.
And Natasha.
You sank further into your seat, pulling the collar up, breathing it in, letting the weight of it calm you. It was warm. Safe. Comforting. And before you knew it, you were out. The exhaustion won. Headphones still playing softly in your ears, Natasha’s jacket wrapped around you, you slipped into sleep.
Natasha had just finished arguing with race control, demanding to know when an actual decision would be made. The waiting was killing her. Everything had been meticulously planned for today. She had planned for weather strategy, tire strategy, race pace, everything, but not this. Not sitting in the garage for hours, staring at a rain-soaked track, waiting for the FIA to make a call.
Her body was cold, the wind seeping into the open garage, and her frustration grew. She needed her damn jacket. She walked toward the chair where she had left it earlier. Except..it wasn’t there. Instead, another jacket was draped over the back. She sighed and grabbed it. Only the moment her fingers curled around the fabric, she froze.
The scent hit her instantly. It wasn’t hers. It was yours. She clenched the jacket tighter, bringing it closer as if to confirm it. Yeah. It was yours.
And now, for some reason, it smelled like you and only you. Natasha’s lips parted slightly, her pulse kicking up just a little. It was a ridiculous, pathetic reaction, and she knew it. But God..she liked it. The idea that something of yours smelled like you. That you had worn it, had made it yours, had left a piece of yourself in the fabric.
She exhaled sharply, trying to shake herself free of the ridiculous warmth spreading through her chest. What the hell was wrong with her? She cleared her throat and looked around, until she found you. Curled up in the corner of the garage, head tilted slightly, lips parted, headphones still playing faintly.
And wrapped around you, her jacket. She had seen you in hundreds of moments. On the track, at press conferences, in the paddock, in her home, in her arms, but never like this.
Never this soft. Never this unguarded. And wearing her jacket like it belonged to you. Something deep in her chest tightened. It was undeniably, disgustingly adorable.
“Oh my God.” Yelena’s voice shattered the moment. Natasha sighed. Here we go. Yelena stepped beside her, arms crossed, grinning like she had just found the best gossip of the year.
“Are you seeing this?” she whispered dramatically. “Is this what love looks like?”
Natasha rolled her eyes. “Shut up, Yelena.”
“No, no, no..I’m serious! Look at her!” Yelena gestured wildly toward you. “That’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen in my life. She’s literally cuddling your jacket. Like a lost puppy.”
Natasha huffed, shaking her head. She refused to entertain this conversation. “She was tired. Let her rest.” She turned back toward you. You were still sleeping, still curled into the warmth, still completely oblivious to the two Romanoff sisters staring at you.
And before she could stop herself, Natasha stepped forward. She crouched down next to you, carefully, silently, watching you breathe. The jacket had slipped slightly from your shoulders.
She adjusted it without thinking, tucking it back around you so you wouldn’t get cold. Yelena let out an exaggerated sigh behind her. “If this isn’t love, I don’t know what is.”
Natasha shot her a glare that could kill. Yelena grinned. Natasha shook her head. And then, she let you rest. Because, for once, you looked peaceful. And she wasn’t going to take that from you.
A few hours later, you woke up slowly. For a moment, the world felt muffled, the low hum of voices in the background, the occasional sound of footsteps against wet pavement, the ever-present drumming of rain against the garage roof.
With a quiet sigh, you pulled off your headphones and rubbed your eyes, blinking against the dim lighting of the garage. Most of the crew was still huddled around monitors, waiting for updates from race control, but no one seemed particularly hopeful.
You needed to move. Still wrapped in Natasha’s jacket, you pulled yourself out of the chair, rolling your stiff shoulders. Your legs ached from sitting too long, your body craving motion.
So you started walking. The paddock was quieter than usual. Drivers, engineers, and team members were scattered across the grid, waiting for an update that refused to come.
As you strolled past one of the hospitality lounges, you spotted a group of drivers gathered, laughing and joking like schoolkids on a rainy day. They saw you approaching and immediately smirked.
“Ah, look who finally decided to grace us with their presence.”
You rolled your eyes playfully. “I was literally asleep for like an hour. What’s the big deal?”
“Oh, nothing.” A driver grinned. “Just that you were knocked out in Romanoff’s garage, wrapped in her jacket like a baby bear in hibernation.”
Laughter erupted around you. You felt your cheeks warm slightly but kept your expression neutral. “You’re all obsessed with me. It’s embarrassing, really.”
Another driver raised an eyebrow. “No, we’re obsessed with the fact that you’re basically the only person who’s ever tamed Natasha Romanoff.”
You scoffed. “Tamed? Please.”
“Admit it.” A driver smirked. “She lets you get away with things no one else could.”
You shrugged, playing it cool. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“Really?” Another driver tilted his head. “Because last time I saw, she didn’t even let her engineers breathe wrong during race briefings, but when you interrupt her? She just sighs like you’re a mild inconvenience.”
The group chuckled. “Yeah, like a cat knocking things over and the owner just accepts their fate.”
You pretended to think about it. “Hmm. Maybe I’m just her favorite..”
A few of them groaned playfully. “Unfair.”
“Okay, but seriously,” one of them leaned in. “How is it? Dating your boss?”
You paused for a second, feeling the weight of the question. How was it? It was Natasha grilling you in strategy meetings, pushing you harder than anyone else, expecting nothing less than perfection. It was also Natasha leaving extra food in the fridge for you after late-night training, bringing you coffee exactly how you liked it, running her fingers through your hair when no one was watching.
You exhaled, shrugging. “She’s…Natasha.”
The group groaned. “Oh, come on, give us something!”
You smirked. “I don’t kiss and tell.”
“Oh, but you do kiss?” One of them grinned.
You laughed, shaking your head. “You guys are worse than the media.”
“We just want to know if she’s as terrifying off-track as she is on.”
You thought about it for a moment before smirking. “I’ll let you wonder.”
Groans filled the air again as a few of them shoved you lightly.
“You’re no fun.”
“Oh, I’m plenty fun.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Romanoff’s favorite.”
Just as you were about to tease them back, a voice crackled through a nearby intercom.
“Y/l/n.”
You froze. You didn’t even need to see the name attached to the comm. That voice alone was unmistakable.
The drivers around you all stiffened slightly, exchanging glances. You grabbed a spare earpiece, clicking the receiver. “Yeah?”
A beat of silence. Then, Natasha’s low, firm, unmistakably authoritative voice came through. “Where are you?”
Your stomach flipped. You cleared your throat. “Just walking around.”
“Come back to the garage.” A few of the drivers grinned.
“Ooooh.”
“She’s summoning you.”
“Better go before she sends a search party.”
You shot them a glare. “You guys are ridiculous.”
A driver smirked. “We’re not the ones being personally requested by Natasha Romanoff.”
You sighed, shaking your head but unable to hide the small smile on your lips. “I’ll catch you guys later.”
As you walked off, you heard one last parting joke from behind you. “Tell your girlfriend we said hi!”
You didn’t turn around. But as you entered the garage and saw Natasha waiting, arms crossed, green eyes locked on you like she had been tracking you the entire time, you couldn’t stop the warmth from spreading through your chest.
You barely had time to process before Natasha uncrossed her arms and tilted her head ever so slightly, her lips curling into an amused smirk. “Comfortable?”
Your brows furrowed. “Huh?”
She gestured toward you with a lazy flick of her fingers. More specifically, toward her jacket. The one still wrapped snugly around your body. Your stomach dropped as you glanced down, realizing exactly what she meant. Shit.
You had completely forgotten you were still wearing it. Before you could even attempt to play it off, Natasha took a slow, measured step forward.
“That’s mine.” Her voice was low, almost teasing, but there was something else in her tone, something that sent a shiver down your spine.
You cleared your throat, shifting on your feet. “Uh… it was cold?”
Natasha hummed, clearly enjoying this. “So, what? You just decided to steal my jacket?”
You crossed your arms, trying to regain some level of control in this conversation. “You weren’t using it.”
Natasha raised an eyebrow, stepping even closer. “That doesn’t mean it’s yours.”
You met her gaze, refusing to back down. “Finders, keepers.”
The smirk on her lips widened. “Is that how we’re playing this?”
Your heart skipped when she reached for the collar of the jacket, tugging it just slightly, just enough to make you stumble a step closer.
Your breath hitched. “Maybe.”
Natasha studied you for a long moment, her fingers still curled around the edge of the fabric. Then, before you could process what was happening, she tugged again. This time, harder.
You yelped as she used the leverage to pull you flush against her, your chests nearly touching. Your hands instinctively shot up, gripping onto the jacket as she hovered way too close, her breath fanning against your cheek.
Her voice dipped into dangerously low territory. “You look good in my clothes, detka.”
Your stomach flipped. Your mouth opened, but no sound came out. Natasha’s smirk deepened, clearly satisfied with herself.
Then, as if nothing had just happened, she released you. You stumbled backward slightly, heart hammering, your brain still trying to catch up with what the hell that was. And then she delivered the second bombshell.
“The race is canceled.”
You blinked. “Wait, what?”
Natasha leaned against the workbench, arms crossed again, completely unfazed. “The FIA just called it off.”
Your stomach twisted. “They did?”
Natasha nodded. “The storm is only getting worse. No point in waiting it out.”
You ran a hand through your hair, exhaling sharply. “So… we just go home?”
Natasha shrugged. “Unless you’d rather sleep in the garage.”
You shot her a look, but she was already grabbing her things, clearly ready to leave.
She paused by the exit, glancing over her shoulder at you.
“Are you coming?”
The car hummed steadily, the open road stretching out ahead as the last remnants of daylight cast golden streaks across the sky.
You sat in the passenger seat, one leg tucked under you, absentmindedly playing with the zipper of her jacket.
Natasha, on the other hand, was completely at ease, one hand resting on the wheel, the other lazily draped over the gear shift.
You sighed, stretching slightly. “The new car is nice.”
Natasha smirked slightly, glancing at you. “Yeah?”
“Yes.” You ran your fingers over the leather seat. “Sturdy. Strong. Feels…reliable.”
“That’s the point, dorogoy (sweetheart)”.”
You hummed, pretending to consider something. “I bet you could do all sorts of things with a car like this.”
Natasha’s fingers tapped idly against the wheel. “Like?”
You hesitated for half a second before shrugging, trying to sound casual.
“I don’t know,” you muttered, staring out the window. “Like… maybe someone could get bent over the hood or something, Ha! imagine..”
Silence. You immediately regretted it. You could feel Natasha’s eyes flick toward you, even if just for a second. You swallowed. “That was just a thought-”
“Huh.” she mused, way too relaxed, way too amused. “Interesting idea.”
Your face flushed instantly. “Forget I said anything.”
“Oh, absolutely not.”
“Natasha-”
“No, no, I think you were onto something.”
You groaned loudly, covering your face. “I WAS JOKING!”
“Mhm.”
You peeked at her through your fingers, her smirk now fully intact, her eyes practically glinting with mischief.
“You think about that a lot, huh?” she teased.
“Oh my god!”
“Aerodynamics. Can’t have too much wind resistance.” she mused, completely ignoring you.
“I hate you so much right now.”
“Do you?” she smirked. “Because I think you’re flustered, sweetheart.”
You whined, hiding your face in your hands. “I AM NEVER SPEAKING AGAIN.”
“Shame.” Natasha exhaled through her nose, smirking. “Because now I really want to see what happens when you win the next race.”
Your head snapped up. “What?!!”
“Win the next race..” she said, completely nonchalant, eyes on the road. “And maybe we’ll see just how sturdy this car really is.”
Your brain short-circuited. “I-”
Natasha just smirked wider, shifting gears effortlessly. “What’s wrong, baby?” she teased, glancing at you. “You were just joking, right?”
You whimpered, staring at her. And Natasha? She just kept driving. Like she hadn’t just ruined you completely.
——
The moment she stepped in her garage, days later, she halted. There, in the middle of the garage floor, was a group of mechanics, all hunched over, intensely focused on something.
Natasha narrowed her eyes, stepping closer. It took her a second to register what the hell was happening. They were racing toy cars.
Tiny remote-controlled cars zoomed across the floor, weaving through obstacles made from spare parts and stacked tires. The mechanics were completely absorbed, cheering each other on, and right in the middle of it..
You.
You were crouched low, gripping a tiny controller, your eyes locked on the miniature car speeding ahead of the others. Natasha stared. Before she could say anything, one of the mechanics spotted her.
“Shit, boss is here!” Instantly, the whole group scattered like guilty schoolchildren. Some grabbed tools, pretending to be busy. Others straightened up, wiping their hands on their uniforms. One guy even picked up a clipboard and nodded like he was taking notes.
Natasha arched an eyebrow, watching them all awkwardly shuffle away. Then, her gaze landed on you. You hadn’t moved. Instead, you were grinning.
Natasha exhaled, crossing her arms. “Really?”
You shrugged. “We had time.”
Her lips twitched, but she didn’t let the smirk form. “And this is what you do with it?”
You held up a spare controller, wiggling it between your fingers. “Wanna play?”
Natasha deadpanned. Silence. “No.”
You just kept grinning. “Scared you’ll lose?”
Natasha narrowed her eyes. You smirked. Checkmate. With an exasperated sigh, she snatched the controller from your hand. You tried to hide your excitement but failed miserably.
The game was on and fifteen minutes later…Natasha Romanoff, feared Team Principal, was fully immersed in a miniature race. Her forehead creased in concentration, fingers pressing the buttons with sharp precision, eyes locked on the tiny red car speeding ahead.
“What?”
Your car cut her off perfectly, sliding into the lead. You let out a victorious laugh, flashing her a smirk. “Too slow..”
Natasha gritted her teeth, her competitive instincts fully kicking in. “Oh, you little-”
She pressed forward aggressively, maneuvering her car with flawless skill. The mechanics, who had initially tried to get back to work, were now casually watching from a distance, whispering bets on who would win.
Natasha was determined. She lined up the perfect overtake, waiting for the exact moment to strike. Then..Her car clipped yours. Spun out. Crashed and stopped. You burst out laughing. “DID YOU JUST TAKE YOURSELF OUT?!”
Natasha blinked. Then she stared at the tiny car, still flipped on its side. She exhaled slowly. She dropped the controller onto the table, turned on her heel, and walked away. Not a word. Just pure, silent, defeated dignity.
You called after her, still laughing. “C’mon, I’ll give you a rematch!”
Natasha didn’t look back. But as she reached the door, you caught it. The tiny, amused smirk pulling at her lips. Minutes later you were still grinning like an idiot when your phone buzzed.
Meet me outside the garage. Now.
Your smirk widened. Curious, you stretched, cracking your knuckles before making your way toward the exit. The pit lane was quieter now, most of the team either finishing up for the night or handling last-minute checks. The evening air was cool against your skin as you stepped outside..
Two cars. Both engines purring, sleek and ready. You knew instantly what this was. Natasha stood beside one of them, arms crossed, that signature smug, unreadable expression on her face. But her eyes, her eyes gave it away.
She wanted a rematch. Your mind flashed back.. Back to the moment everything had started. Back when you were lost, broken, hesitant to even step into a car again. Back when Natasha had stood in front of you, unapologetically blunt, pushing you, challenging you.
“Race me.”
And now? She was doing it again. You exhaled slowly, heart pounding with a mix of excitement and anticipation. Natasha raised an eyebrow, the corner of her lips twitching. “You just gonna stand there? Or are you actually gonna try to win this time?”
Your eyes flickered to the cars, fingers already itching to grab the wheel. A slow grin spread across your face. The cockpit felt smaller than usual. Or maybe it was just your nerves making the air feel heavier. Your hands gripped the wheel tightly as the lights overhead cast an artificial glow over the track. It was just a race. Just another challenge. But you weren’t going up against just anyone.
You were racing Natasha Romanoff. Your lover. Your mentor. Your damn boss. And worst of all? She was one of the best. A voice crackled through the radio. Her voice. “All set, sweetheart?”
Your stomach tightened. She only used that tone when she was either mocking you or about to ruin your day. You adjusted your gloves, clearing your throat. “You really don’t get tired of losing to me, huh?”
There was a short silence. A low chuckle through the radio. “Bold words from someone who used to be scared of getting back in a car.”
Your jaw clenched, but the teasing lilt in her voice told you she wasn’t trying to bring up the past to hurt you. No, she was pushing you.
Just like she always did. “Don’t hold back.” She continued, her voice dropping into something more serious. “I’ll know if you do.”
And she would. You exhaled slowly, steadying yourself. The track ahead was empty, quiet, waiting for the storm to begin.
“Three…Two…One…Go.”
Your tires screeched against the asphalt, the car lurching forward with an aggressive jolt. Your heart slammed against your ribs as the sheer force of acceleration pushed you deeper into your seat.
Natasha’s car was right there, pulling ahead as expected. Your fingers twitched. You knew she’d try to control the pace, make you react instead of setting the tempo. Typical Natasha..
But you had learned. You weren’t just following orders anymore. You shifted gears, pushing the throttle harder, and Natasha’s car loomed just ahead, her rear wing practically taunting you.
Her voice returned over the radio. “You’re awfully quiet back there. Getting nervous?”
Your lips curled into a smirk. “Wouldn’t want to hurt your ego too soon.”
Natasha let out a soft huff. “Cute.”
The first corner approached, and Natasha braked late, forcing a tight defensive line. You reacted instantly, shifting inside, but she covered it.
Of course she did. Her driving was calculated, ruthless, frustratingly efficient. You gritted your teeth, the familiar challenge igniting something in you. She wants me to play safe. To respect her lead. No chance in hell. The next set of corners came fast, left, right, hairpin..each a perfect opportunity. You faked a move to the outside, making her defend hard.
It worked. The instant she adjusted, you cut inside, braking later than you should have. Natasha realized it too late. Her car twitched, caught off guard. And then you were ahead. The rush hit you all at once. You overtook her. You overtook Natasha Romanoff.
Her silence over the radio was deafening. “…Huh.” Just that. No anger. No irritation. Just surprise. And that fueled you.
The adrenaline surged through your veins as you floored the throttle, pushing the car faster than you had all night. The next corner approached, a high-speed sweeper that demanded absolute precision.
You didn’t hesitate. You sent it. The car gripped perfectly, the g-force pinning you to the seat. It was exhilarating. The radio crackled again. “You’ve been holding out on me.”
Your breath was heavy, pulse erratic. “You told me not to.”
A short laugh. “I did.” Then her tone shifted. “Alright, Detka.”
A shiver ran down your spine. That was a challenge. And you knew, Natasha wasn’t holding back anymore. You barely had time to react before her car loomed in your mirrors, closing the gap with terrifying efficiency.
Your heart pounded against your ribs as you checked your mirrors, Natasha was right there. She wasn’t holding back anymore.
Her car was gaining, inch by inch, the headlights glaring in your mirrors like a predator stalking its prey. You swallowed hard, tightening your grip on the wheel as the track blurred past you.
You had her, for now. But Natasha wasn’t just any driver. She was calculated. She was ruthless. And worst of all? She was faster than you.
The next corner approached, a long, sweeping left-hander. You knew what she was about to do before she even did it. She dived inside, taking the more aggressive line, forcing you wide.
Shit. You had two options, fight her for the space and risk a collision or play smart and get her back on the next sector.
Your pulse spiked. This wasn’t a championship race. This wasn’t about points. This was about beating Natasha.
You feigned giving in, easing off the throttle just enough to let her pull ahead, just for a second. And that’s when you struck.
You tucked in behind her, riding her slipstream, your car practically glued to her rear wing. The second she cleared the turn, you darted right, flinging the car into the racing line before she could defend.
Natasha saw it, too late. She had to lift off the throttle for just a fraction of a second. And that was all you needed.You shot past her, taking back the lead with authority.
The radio crackled. “Y/n, Y/n...”
You grinned. “Takes one to know one.”
A sharp laugh from her end. But then, a shift. Her tone dropped, lower now. “Alright, baby. No more playing nice.”
A chill ran down your spine. And then she was gone. Or rather, she was everywhere. Natasha went from defensive to absolute attack mode. Her car was flawless, her aggression relentless.
Every corner you took, she was there. Every straight, she gained. She was forcing you into mistakes. And worse? It was working.
You felt your rear tires struggle for grip, just barely keeping traction as you fought to maintain control. Your breathing was ragged. Your fingers twitched.
She was pushing you to the edge. And yet, you loved it. The thrill, the chase, the sheer intensity of it all. This was what racing felt like. This was what you lived for.
Your body burned with adrenaline as the final sector approached. Three more corners. One chance.. You threw the car into the braking zone, the tires screeching under the force. Natasha was right behind you, just waiting for you to slip. The exit was critical. You braced yourself, prepared for one last push, but then, she was gone.
You blinked. Checked your mirrors. Nothing. Your radio crackled. “Checkmate, detka.”
Your stomach dropped. You snapped forward, eyes widening as you saw it, Natasha had switched her line. She had let you overcommit to the inside. And now..She had the perfect exit. Her car shot forward like a bullet, flying past you before you could even react.
The finish line loomed ahead. She was too far ahead. You gritted your teeth, pushing with everything you had, but it wasn’t enough. Natasha crossed the line first.
You slammed your hands against the wheel, frustration and admiration mixing into a wild, heated mess inside your chest. The radio crackled again. “You’re fast.”
You exhaled, jaw clenched.
“But I’m faster.”
Your breathing was erratic, your pulse hammering. You had lost. But God, you had never felt so alive. You pulled into the pit lane, your hands still shaking as you climbed out of the car. Before you could even process what had just happened, Natasha was already there.
Leaning against her car. Arms crossed. Smirking. Smug. Smug as hell. You pulled off your helmet, your hair a mess, sweat dripping down your forehead.
Natasha tilted her head. “Not bad, rookie.”
You glared. “Rookie!?”
She pushed off the car, stepping closer. Too close. Your breath hitched as she lifted a gloved hand, tracing her fingers lightly along your jaw.
“You’re getting better.”
Your pulse spiked. Her gaze was intense, heavy, scorching. Your lips parted, your voice barely a whisper. “You planned that the whole time.”
She smirked. “Maybe.”
You narrowed your eyes. “I hate you.”
A dark chuckle. “No, you don’t.”
And then, she leaned in, her lips brushing against yours, just barely, just enough to make your knees weaken. Your breath hitched. Natasha smirked against your mouth, her voice dropping into a dangerous whisper.
“Now let’s go insid. I’m not done winning tonight.”
The couch was warm beneath you, the soft hum of the TV in the background a comforting buzz. Natasha was next to you, arm draped lazily along the back of the couch. Close enough that the heat of her body soaked into yours, her fingers grazing your shoulder absentmindedly.
Because somewhere between laughter and quiet conversation, her hands had found your skin. And yours had found hers. You were straddling her lap now, your fingers tracing the sharp lines of her jaw, her strong shoulders, while her hands roamed lower, gripping your hips, fingertips teasing the hem of your shirt.
You sighed into the kiss, letting her pull you closer, heat building, slow and intoxicating. Then, Natasha shifted. Her fingers dipped beneath the fabric, slowly pushing your shirt upward. Your breath hitched. And before you even registered it, your body tensed.
Natasha noticed immediately. Her hands stilled. Her lips hovered over yours, her green eyes flickering with something unreadable as she pulled back just enough to study you.
Her brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
Your pulse hammered. The words sat heavy in your throat. You didn’t know how to say it. But Natasha could read you too damn well. And in that moment, her eyes darkened. Her hands slowly lowered from your shirt, like she thought she had done something wrong.
Her voice dropped to a whisper, softer this time. “Did I..Did I push too fast?”
The uncertainty in her tone made something twist painfully in your chest. She thought you were rejecting her. You immediately shook your head, reaching for her hand, gripping it tightly. “No, Nat. No, it’s not that.”
Her gaze searched yours. “Then what is it?”
You exhaled slowly, trying to steady yourself. Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your own shirt, your breath uneven as you finally forced yourself to say it. “We’ve never..never done this in the light before.”
Natasha blinked. You could tell the words caught her off guard. Her grip on you softened. “What do you mean?”
You bit your lip, looking away for a second before murmuring, “I don’t… I don’t like showing my back, Nat..”
Natasha understood immediately. She was quiet for a moment, her gaze unwavering. Then, carefully, she lifted one hand, tracing the back of her knuckles along your arm in a slow, soothing motion.
“Why?” Your throat tightened. “Because I hate it.” Your voice was quiet, raw. “It..it reminds me of everything. The crash, the pain, the months.. It’s ugly, Natasha.” Your voice cracked, barely above a whisper now.
Natasha exhaled slowly. Not in frustration, not in impatience, but in understanding. Her hands moved carefully now, not under your shirt, not near your back, but to your face. She cupped your cheeks, her thumbs brushing over your skin in slow, deliberate strokes.
“You think I would see you any differently?” she murmured. You didn’t answer. Because part of you did. Part of you thought she would look at you and see it first.
See the damage before she saw you. Natasha must have sensed it, because her grip tightened slightly, grounding. “Y/n,” she said, voice steady, certain. “There is nothing ugly about you.”
Your chest ached. You tried to look away, but she didn’t let you. Her thumbs brushed over your jaw, tipping your chin slightly, forcing you to meet her gaze.
She was so damn close now. Close enough that you could see the sincerity in her expression, the unwavering truth in her eyes.
“I love you.” she whispered. “All of you.”
She let her fingers trail down now, still slow, still careful. She traced your collarbone, the curve of your shoulder, then skimmed her fingers over your waist, but she never pushed. Never forced.
You realized then. She was waiting. She was waiting for you to make the next move. Your heartbeat pounded. And then, finally..you moved. Your hands trembled slightly, but you reached down, gripping the hem of your shirt.
Slowly, you lifted it. The scar, raised and jagged, stretched along your lower back, a permanent reminder of the crash that nearly took everything. You couldn’t look at her. You stared at the wall, waiting for something, anything.
Then, she touched you. Not in fear. Not in hesitation. But with reverence. Her fingers ghosted over the scar, tracing it so softly it almost tickled. You shivered. And then, her lips. She pressed a soft, lingering kiss right above the scar.
Your breath shuddered. Natasha pulled back just enough for her voice to reach you. “This?” she murmured, her fingers still tracing lightly. “This is a part of you.”
She leaned forward, her lips brushing against your shoulder now, then up along your neck, whispering against your skin.
“And I love every single part of you.”
Something inside you broke. The walls, the self-loathing, the years of hating that part of yourself, it all cracked under the weight of her words. You exhaled shakily, leaning forward, pressing yourself into her. She didn’t hesitate. She held you. Not just in a way that meant comfort. But in a way that meant everything.
For a moment, you just stayed there, pressed against Natasha, her arms wrapped securely around you. You felt the shift before she even spoke, the way her body relaxed slightly, the tension from earlier bleeding away into something softer, something unspoken but understood.
And yet… you couldn’t ignore it. The atmosphere had changed. It wasn’t bad, not uncomfortable, but the weight of what just happened still lingered in the air. You pulled back slightly, just enough to see her face. Natasha’s hands remained steady on your waist, holding you in place, anchoring you.
You bit your lip, hesitating before you spoke. “…I’m sorry.”
Her brows furrowed immediately. “What?”
You exhaled, feeling foolish. “I just..” You glanced away, rubbing at your arm. “It felt like I ruined the moment.”
Natasha was silent for a beat. Then, suddenly, she laughed. It wasn’t mocking. It wasn’t dismissive. It was soft. Amused. Fond. You blinked up at her, confused. “What’s so funny?”
She shook her head slightly, still smiling. “You think I need sex all the time?”
Your face heated instantly. “No, that’s not what I-”
Her fingers curled under your chin, gently tilting your face back up.
“I don’t need anything from you, Y/n.” she murmured. “Not tonight. Not every night.” Her thumb brushed over your jaw, tender and deliberate. “You’re mine, with or without that.”
Her eyes were softer now, not demanding, not teasing, just full of something deeper. Something that settled inside you. You exhaled, finally allowing yourself to relax, your forehead dropping to rest against hers. “…I love you.” The words were quiet, but certain.
Natasha’s fingers tightened slightly on your waist, like she was holding on just a little harder. “I know.”
You smiled, rolling your eyes. “Say it back.”
She smirked, tilting her head. “I love you.”
There was a gentleness in the way she said it, a sincerity that made warmth bloom in your chest. Then, suddenly, she shifted, lifting you effortlessly as she stood up.
“W-What are you-”
“Movie night.” She declared it like it was final, carrying you toward her room as if you weighed nothing.
You huffed. “I can walk, you know.”
“I know.” she replied, grinning as she dropped you onto the bed. “But this is more fun.”
You shot her a look, but the amusement in her eyes was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile. Natasha grabbed a blanket, throwing it over both of you before settling in beside you. You instinctively leaned into her, her arms finding you again, pulling you close.
“Alright.” she murmured. “Pick a movie.”
You tilted your head. “You pick.”
Natasha hummed in thought before flicking through the options. “What about something mindless?”
You scoffed. “You mean an action movie?”
She smirked. “Obviously.”
You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. You just let yourself relax into her, feeling her warmth, feeling safe. The movie started, but neither of you were really watching. She ran her fingers through your hair absentmindedly, and you sighed, eyes fluttering shut. Maybe another night, you’d continue what had been interrupted. But for now, this was enough. Just her. Just you.
1 Week later, your team had cheered, cameras had flashed, hands had clapped against your back in congratulations. You had done it. You won the race. And somewhere between the press interviews and the champagne-drenched celebration, you’d completely forgotten the joke you had made in Natasha’s car just days before.
The drive after your victory had been smooth, quiet, almost too quiet. Natasha sat behind the wheel, calm, unreadable, in control. You were too exhausted to question it, your body still buzzing from the race, your muscles sore, adrenaline still wearing off.
So when the car slowed, pulling off to the side of a dimly lit stretch of road, you barely blinked. It wasn’t until she put it in park and exhaled slowly that you finally looked at her.
“Something wrong?”
Natasha hummed, tapping her fingers against the wheel. “Feels like something’s off with the car.”
Your mechanic instincts kicked in instantly. “Want me to check?”
She smirked, already stepping out. You followed, stretching slightly as you stepped into the warm night air. She stood in front of the hood, lifting it slightly, pretending to inspect something. You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Nat, I used to be a mechanic, let me-”
Before you could finish, she turned to face you fully, smirking. “Actually, sit up here for a second.”
Your brows furrowed. “What?”
She patted the hood. “Come on.”
Something about the way she said it sent a shiver through you. But you didn’t argue. Didn’t question it. You pushed yourself up, perching on the warm metal, your legs instinctively parting slightly for balance.
Natasha stepped forward, standing between them. “You really forgot, didn’t you?” she murmured, tilting her head slightly.
Your stomach flipped. “Forgot what?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.
Natasha chuckled. Her fingers trailing up your thigh, pressing just enough to make your breath hitch.
“You won.” she murmured, voice smooth, controlled. “Which means…I get to keep my promise.” You blinked. And then it hit you. The joke. The stupid, stupid joke.
“Win the next race..and maybe we’ll see just how sturdy this car really is”
Your mouth went dry. “Oh..” you breathed, barely a whisper. Natasha hummed, her smirk deepening. “Oh.”
And then, her hand slipped between your legs. You gasped the second she pressed against you, her fingers teasing, exploring, but not giving. Your knees weakened, your fingers gripping the edge of the seat. “N-Natasha-”
“Shh, sweetheart.” she murmured, her breath warm against your jaw, your pulse. “Relax.”
Her fingers brushed over you again, slow, testing, cruel. “Fuck..!”
“You like this, huh?” she whispered, dragging her lips along your throat, her pace still unhurried. “I haven’t even started yet.”
Your hips shifted involuntarily, chasing friction, chasing anything. Natasha chuckled, her grip tightening, keeping you exactly where she wanted.
“So desperate already.” she murmured, pressing a kiss just below your ear. “Thought this was just a joke?”
“I-I don’t-f-fuck..” Her fingers pushed inside you, slow, deep, devastating. Your head tilted back, a gasp breaking past your lips.
“That’s it..” Natasha groaned, her pace still infuriatingly controlled. “Take it.”
You were trembling, your legs weak, your body burning up. She moved with purpose, her fingers curling, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your moans cracked, your hands gripping onto her. “g-god-”
“Come for me, baby..” she whispered, commanding, knowing. “Right here. Right now.”
And fuck. You shattered. Your body arched, a wrecked moan breaking past your lips as you came undone in her hands. Natasha groaned, watching you fall apart, watching you completely lose yourself. But she wasn’t done. Not yet.
You barely had time to recover before Natasha was pulling you in, kissing you deep, slow, consuming. Her hands were everywhere, gripping your hips, your waist, your thighs, keeping you close, keeping you grounded.
You whimpered against her mouth, your body still shaking, oversensitive. And then..You felt it. A bulge. Hard. Firm. Pressing against your inner thigh. Your breath hitched, your body tensing slightly. And Natasha? She felt you freeze.
And she smirked. “Finally noticed?”
Your eyes widened, your brain catching up to what your body had already felt. She’d been wearing it. The entire time. The entire fucking drive.
“You..”
She chuckled, low, dark, amused. “What’s wrong, baby?” she murmured, tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet her gaze.
“You were so eager to be fucked on this car.”
Her hands trailed lower, gripping your hips. “So let’s see if you can handle it and turn around.”
Her voice was low, steady, dripping with command. You blinked, chest rising and falling too fast, your mind spinning.
“Nat, I-”
“I said, turn around.”
You shuddered. And you did. Because you always fucking listened. Your palms pressed against the warm metal of the hood, your breath coming out uneven, shaky.
Natasha stood behind you, silent for a moment, just watching, just taking you in. Then, her hands slid over your waist, down your thighs, exploring, feeling, claiming.
“Look at you.” She murmured, dragging her lips down your neck, your spine. “So good for me.”
Her fingers hooked into your waistband, tugging your pants down slow, teasing, deliberate. The air kissed your bare skin, your body burning in contrast. You whimpered, hands gripping the car for stability.
“That’s right.” she cooed, lips pressing against your shoulder. “You’ve been running that mouth for days.”
Her hand came down on your ass, sharp, making you jolt. “Time to back it up.”
You barely had a second to brace yourself before Natasha grabbed your hips and pushed in.
“Oh, F-Fuck-!” Your moan cracked, your body arching, stretching, struggling to take all of her at once. Natasha groaned, fingers digging into your skin, giving you a second to adjust.
“Take it all..” She whispered, voice thick, heavy, possessive. Your fingers curled against the car hood, your body already trembling, already overwhelmed. And then, she moved. Slow, deep, devastating.
Your head dropped forward, a wrecked moan escaping your lips as she set the pace, dragging you back onto her cock with every thrust.
“Natasha!”
“Thought you wanted this?” she murmured, voice mocking, teasing, but laced with something darker. Her hand trailed up your back, pressing between your shoulder blades, forcing you down further, making you feel every inch of her.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
You whimpered, barely able to breathe, your body already so close, already so gone.
“Natasha..fuck—I..can’t..please..”
“Yes, you can.” she growled, thrusting deeper, rougher. “You’re gonna take everything I give you, baby.”
Your legs shook, pleasure burning through every nerve, your stomach tightening. Natasha could feel it, sense it, hear it in the way your moans turned into wrecked, breathless cries.
“Gonna come for me?” she whispered, her hand slipping between your thighs, rubbing tight circles over your clit.
“Fuck! fuck, Natasha!”
“Do it.”
And fuck- You did. Your moan cracked, your entire body convulsing against the car, your pleasure hitting you like a tidal wave. Natasha groaned at the sight of you, at the way you completely fell apart for her. And yet..she didn’t stop. The Moment You Realized you were screwed.
Your fingers curling against nothing, searching for something to grab onto. But there was nothing. Just Natasha’s hands on your hips, her strap deep inside you, her pace brutal, unforgiving.
“Na-!” Her fingers dug into your waist, keeping you perfectly still as she moved, dragging you onto her cock with every thrust.
“This is what you begged for.” she cooed, her breath hot against your spine.
You whimpered, your legs already trembling, the pleasure too much, too sharp, too overwhelming. “T-too much- fuuck…”
Natasha chuckled, her hand sliding up your back, pressing between your shoulder blades, forcing you down even further.
“Too much?” she repeated, mocking, amused. “Oh, sweetheart.” Her pace quickened, her movements sharper, deeper, taking you apart completely.
Your body was failing you. Your legs were shaking too hard, your breath ragged, broken. You couldn’t hold yourself up. You couldn’t think. Your mind was completely blank, completely fucked out. Your hands had no grip on reality, no grip on anything at all. So you stopped trying. You let go.
“Fuck, look at you.” Natasha groaned, feeling you go completely limp beneath her. You whimpered, eyes unfocused, your voice wrecked, weak.
“Ohh..” she whispered, pressing kisses against your spine. “You don’t have to do anything.”
Her grip tightened on your hips, her pace deep and devastating. “Just let me take care of you.”
And fuck, that broke you. “Come for me again, sweetheart.”
Natasha’s voice was soft, knowing, completely in control. “I know you can.”
Your body shook violently, pleasure ripping through you, your moan breaking into something wrecked, something wordless. Your vision blurred, your entire world reduced to nothing but the feeling of Natasha inside you.
She groaned, watching you shatter, feeling your body completely give in to her. “That’s my good girl.” she murmured, pressing kisses to your shoulder, to your jaw, to the corner of your lips.
Your breath came out in short, shaky gasps, your entire body completely spent, completely hers. And Natasha? She just smirked, her fingers trailing down your spine, grounding you.
“Not so funny now, huh?”
And fuck. You were never joking again