#adel writes

[adel-memes]

Update :) anyway Green & Shadow hours real <3

[screaminglygay]

KINKTOBER (day 10)

pairing: darkish!marvel ladies x fem!reader, wanda x reader, natasha x reader, kate x reader, yelena x reader, carol x reader, maria x reader - multiverse

summary: you find yourself shyly admitting your desire to be with them... and they love it

warnings: possessive behavior, teasing, edging, dirty talk, swearing

wordcount: 3.9k

an: last day of kinktober wohoo, enjoy halloween my little gays and be safe!!!

part one here!

Hours later, you’re sprawled across the bed, Wanda´s? Natasha´s? You´re not really sure, feeling a hazy warmth as the adrenaline fades and soft laughter fills the room. You’re nestled between Wanda and Natasha, each of them gently stroking your hair. Kate lies at the end of the bed, propped on her elbow, eyes glinting with a lingering mischievousness as she watches you with a fond, satisfied smile. While Carol is taking a shower and Maria is just sitting in the chair.

“Look at her,” Kate murmurs, her tone laced with both awe and amusement. “We might have worn her out.”

Wanda hums, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “Worn out or not, she’s still perfect,” she whispers, her fingers tracing lazy circles on your shoulder. There’s an undeniable pride in her gaze, something that feels as possessive as it is affectionate.

Natasha smirks, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face, her expression softer than usual. “Precious is an understatement,” she says, her voice still rough but now tempered with a quiet admiration. “I think we might have a problem if anyone else finds out how amazing she is.”

You chuckle weakly, warmth blooming across your cheeks as their words sink in, and Wanda gives your hand a squeeze, her thumb brushing tenderly over your knuckles. “Don’t worry, malysh,” she murmurs. “You’re ours. We’ll make sure of that.”

Kate lets out a laugh, reaching over to give you a playful poke on the arm. “Hey, remember, Captain gets all the best cuddles,” she teases, eyes twinkling. “I wasn’t joking earlier. So make some room for her too.” She winks, making the girls roll their eyes.

Carol steps out of the bathroom, her hair still damp from the shower, wearing only a loose tank top and shorts. She glances over, a smirk tugging at her lips as she takes in the scene of you nestled among the others.

“Looks like I missed the after-party,” she murmurs, eyeing the way Kate’s hand rests on your arm and Wanda’s fingers trace gentle circles on your shoulder. She raises an eyebrow at Natasha, who’s standing up and adjusting her clothes.

Natasha gives Carol a knowing look and nods. “I’ll be back in a little while. Just have to… deal with something.” The tone in her voice is vague but carries weight, and the other women exchange glances, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

You, however, just watch as Natasha slips out the door, wondering what exactly she has to handle. But before the thought settles, Carol slips onto the bed beside you, drawing your attention back to the moment. Her arm wraps around you with a lazy familiarity, pulling you against her as she gives you a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Missed me already?” she teases, her voice low and warm, her fingers trailing down your arm in a way that sends a pleasant shiver through you.

You chuckle, nestling into the warmth of her embrace. “Maybe,” you say, trying not to sound too eager, though the comfort of her presence makes your heart flutter.

Kate grins, leaning over to you, “careful, or Captain here will get spoiled by all the attention. Next thing you know, she’ll be monopolizing all your time.” Her voice is teasing, her eyes gleaming as she shoots Carol a challenging look.

Carol chuckles, tilting her head as she meets Kate’s gaze. “Oh, you’re one to talk, Bishop. As if you don’t hog enough time with her already.”

“Both of you,” Wanda interjects, her tone light but possessive as her hand smooths over your arm. “We all know who she comes to for the real quality time.” She smirks at you, her fingers curling around yours in a gentle but unmistakably possessive hold.

You feel your cheeks flush under their collective attention, a warm glow settling over you as each of them stakes their playful claim. Maria, still sitting in the chair by the bed, shakes her head with a soft smile, watching the scene unfold with a quiet amusement.

“I mean, can you blame her?” she teases, crossing her legs and leaning back. “With all of us making sure she feels… appreciated, she’s got it pretty good.”

Carol chuckles, tightening her arm around you and brushing a kiss to your temple. “We’ll keep you occupied until Nat gets back. We can’t have you getting bored.”

Wanda leans in close, her voice a soft murmur against your ear. “Or distracted. We like keeping you right where you belong… with us.” Her lips brush your cheek, her gaze lingering as if daring you to look away.

As you sink deeper into the warmth of their embrace, a faint thought tugs at the back of your mind. Where did Natasha go? You can’t help but wonder, a trace of curiosity and concern flickering through you.

But before you can follow the thought any further, Wanda’s fingers brush your cheek, and you glance over to find her looking at you with a knowing smile. Her gaze is soft yet focused, and for a second, you feel as if she’s reading every unspoken question in your mind. Wanda’s eyes narrow slightly, a subtle, affectionate warning, as she exchanges a quick glance with the others, a silent cue for them to keep your mind occupied.

Carol picks up on it immediately, shifting closer to you and giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Pretty little thing,” she teases, her tone light as her hand trails down your arm. “are you here with us?”

You hum, Wanda looks at you, pulling your attention back to her as she strokes a finger along your jawline, her eyes glinting playfully. “Let Natasha handle her business, malysh. She’ll be back soon.” Her words are soft but intentional, grounding you in the moment.

Kate leans forward, a mischievous gleam in her eyes as she tilts her head. “Or are you just that eager to get rid of us?” She arches a brow, her grin widening as she watches you, daring you to respond.

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Not at all. You all make it… pretty easy to stay right here,” you admit, warmth pooling in your chest under their collective attention.

Maria’s voice joins in, her tone smooth but with a hint of playfulness. “See? Nothing to worry about, sweetheart.” She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms with a satisfied smile. “You’re exactly where you need to be.”

As you sink deeper into their warmth, a sudden, pleasant haze settles over you, a fuzzy, dizzying sensation that leaves your mind feeling light and blissfully blank. Each touch, each brush of their fingers on your skin, starts to feel heightened, like every sensation is magnified a thousand times over. Your senses are filled with them, the soft murmurs, the warmth of their bodies.

You feel a soft, warm pulse at the edges of your mind, almost like a lullaby. Your eyelids flutter, and you catch Wanda’s gentle smile, her gaze holding a spark of focus. Her fingers trail along your arm, featherlight and soothing, and the faint traces of questions about Natasha and everything beyond this room begin to slip away. In this moment, there’s only the soft laughter of the others around you, only the warmth spreading through you like the gentlest wave.

You notice the way the others glance at each other, small smirks and knowing looks passing between them. Carol’s hand finds yours, her thumb brushing along your knuckles, and the touch feels so overwhelmingly perfect that it melts any lingering thoughts from your mind. Kate’s laugh breaks through the fog, and she gives you a playful nudge, bringing you fully back into the comfort of the moment, leaving everything else forgotten.

The world outside this room disappears entirely, replaced only by the shared laughter, tender touches, and the feeling that you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be wrapped in their warmth and undivided attention. Maria smiles and sends Natasha a simple text, "We got it all secured here, Wanda took care of it."

The morning light filters into the room, waking you gently. As you stretch and sit up, you realize you’re alone. Wanda, Kate, Carol, and Maria have all gone, leaving only the faintest scent of them behind and a folded note on the pillow next to you.

Good morning, gorgeous. Thought we’d let you get some extra sleep, didn’t want to wake you. See you later. Love, W.

You smile, tucking the note to your chest as you savor the quiet moment, replaying the warmth of last night in your mind. But then you remember something else. Yelena’s invitation, her mischievous smile as she’d told you to come to her room once you were finished with the others. A thrill of excitement rushes through you at the thought, and you slip out of bed, quickly freshening up and making your way down the hall to her room.

The door is slightly ajar, and you hear a faint hum coming from inside. You knock softly, pushing it open to find Yelena leaning against the wall, arms crossed, her expression one of smug satisfaction. She straightens when she sees you, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Took you long enough,” she teases, her eyes twinkling as she beckons you closer. “Thought you might’ve forgotten about me after all that… attention from the others.”

You step into the room, closing the door behind you, feeling the familiar warmth spread through you as she studies you, a playful edge in her gaze. “Oh, trust me, I didn’t forget,” you reply, trying to match her confidence. But there’s something in the way she looks at you that makes your pulse quicken.

“Good,” she says, her tone lower now as she takes a step toward you. “Because I’ve got some ideas of my own, and I’ve been waiting long enough.”

As she pulls you into her arms, the events of last night fade into the background, your focus entirely on her. And with the same sense of warmth and safety from the night before, you let yourself be fully present, knowing you’re exactly where you’re meant to be - surrounded by those who treasure you.

"Alredy this needy?" Yelena chuckles as she feels you bucking your hips.

You open your mouth to protest, but the words catch in your throat as she leans in closer, her breath warm against your ear. “What’s the matter?” she teases, her tone dripping with mock innocence. “Cat got your tongue?”

Her fingers find their way to your chin, lifting your gaze to meet hers. The confidence in her eyes is enough to leave you feeling completely flustered. “You know,” she says, drawing out each word, “I could get used to seeing you like this... speechless and staring at me like I’m the only one in the world.”

You swallow, desperately trying to keep your composure, but Yelena only grins wider, clearly enjoying how easily she has you unraveling. “Aww, don’t tell me you’re already getting shy on me,” she taunts, her voice laced with that familiar sarcasm. “You weren’t so shy with the others last night, were you?”

You try to answer, but her hands slide to your waist, pulling you even closer, and any coherent thought melts away. She leans back slightly, studying your face with a smug expression, fully aware of the effect she has on you.

“Oh, look at this mess,” she purrs, feigning sympathy as her thumb brushes lightly across your cheek. “All flustered… just from me standing here. I didn’t even have to do anything.” She chuckles softly, and the sound sends another shiver through you.

Her fingers tap against your waist as she tilts her head, eyes narrowing playfully. “You think you can handle me, детка?”

Finally finding your voice, you manage a breathless, “Yes.” But even you can hear the doubt in your tone, and Yelena’s smirk grows, clearly reveling in the power she holds over you.

She chuckles, shaking her head. “We’ll see about that, sweetheart,” she says, her voice softening slightly, though the teasing glint never leaves her eyes. “Just remember, I don’t make things easy.”

And with that, she leans in, her lips brushing yours, a lingering, torturous pause that leaves you yearning for more.

Before you can process what’s happening, Yelena’s hands are on your shoulders, gently but firmly pushing you back until you’re lying on the bed, looking up at her. A wicked grin spreads across her face as she leans over you, her fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face before trailing down your arm.

She dips her head, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s both soft and intoxicating, leaving you completely breathless. Her lips move with a practiced ease, each kiss sending butterflies tumbling through your stomach, and you find yourself melting under her touch, any semblance of control slipping away.

When she pulls back, you’re left dizzy, caught up in the warmth of the moment, until you feel the light pressure at your wrists. You glance down, realizing that Yelena has tied your hands, her knots tight and secure, the silken fabric binding you to the bedframe.

Your eyes widen, and Yelena bursts into laughter, her expression both proud and amused. She looks down at you with that familiar, confident smirk, clearly relishing the surprise on your face.

“Oh, you really are something special, aren’t you?” she teases, crossing her arms as she watches you struggle with a playfulness in her eyes. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d notice. Took you long enough, though.”

You open your mouth, searching for a response, but her laughter cuts you off, and she leans down, her lips just inches from yours as she whispers, “Don’t worry. You’re in good hands.”

She brushes her nose against yours, her eyes dancing with mischief. “What’s the matter? You didn’t think I’d let you get away so easily, did you?”

You tug at the binds, but Yelena’s knots are impeccable, each one a testament to her talent and training as a spy. She watches your efforts with a smirk, her fingers tracing along your cheek as she murmurs, “Oh, you’re too easy to fool. But that’s what makes you so much fun.”

Her voice is soft yet laced with amusement, and you can feel the heat rise.. You realize she’s enjoying every moment of your reaction, her own satisfaction evident in the way her smirk widens.

“Relax,” she purrs, giving your tits a light squeeze. “I’ve got you all to myself, and you’re not going anywhere.”

Time blurs as Yelena’s hands roam over you, her hands everywhere. She keeps you right on the edge, bringing you so close but never quite letting you tip over. Each time you think she’s finally going to let you cross that finish line, she pulls back, she chuckles at your frustrated whimpers.

Hours slip by, and every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire, a mixture of yearning and helplessness. Yelena, always just out of reach, seems to be thoroughly enjoying your reactions, her smirk growing wider with each plea you let slip.

Finally, when she’s had her fill, she leans over and unties your wrists, her touch gentle despite the teasing grin she wears. You’re left feeling breathless, limbs heavy and mind fuzzy, completely undone by her relentless torment.

"W-what?" You breathe heavily.

Yelena sits back, her eyes dancing with amusement as she looks over your thoroughly wrecked state. “Oh, poor you,” she murmurs with mock sympathy, brushing her fingers over your flushed cheek. Her voice is a soft, teasing purr. “Did you really think I was going to let you finish, hm?”

You open your mouth, still too dazed to respond, and she grins, her tone dripping with playful condescension. “I didn’t say I’d make you cum, did I? Oh,” she whispers, her smirk growing, “you’re just too easy to mess with.”

She leans in, pressing one last, taunting kiss to your forehead. “Maybe next time,” she murmurs, giving you a wink as she stands.

Before Yelena can give you moment of aftercare, the door creaks open, and Wanda steps inside, her eyes landing on the two of you. She tilts her head, crossing her arms with a raised eyebrow, her gaze drifting from your dazed, messy form to Yelena’s thoroughly pleased expression.

“Well,” Wanda says, her voice a mix of curiosity and amusement as she takes in the scene, “looks like someone’s had a lot of fun.” She gives Yelena a pointed look, smirking. “Mind telling me exactly what you’ve been up to, Yelena?”

Yelena grins, unabashed, stretching out with a look of satisfaction. “Just a little… patience training,” she says, her voice dripping with smugness. She winks at you, “our girl here is a very good learner.”

Wanda’s eyes soften as she watches you, noticing the dazed, needy look in your eyes, and she steps closer, brushing a hand gently along your cheek. “Poor thing,” she murmurs, her voice filled with sweetness and care. She shoots Yelena a half-playful, half-scolding look. “You’ve completely worn her out, haven’t you?”

Yelena chuckles, unrepentant. “She handled it,” she replies with a smirk, but there’s a hint of affection in her gaze as she watches Wanda fuss over you.

Wanda shakes her head, her expression softening as she carefully helps you sit up, supporting you with a gentle arm around your shoulders. “Come on,” she murmurs, her voice soothing as she guides you up. “Let’s get you to your room. Can you walk on your own, malysh?”

You nod and you cling to her, grateful for the warmth of her touch and the gentle way she leads you through the halls. By the time you’re back in your room, you’re feeling incredibly clingy, leaning into Wanda as if you never want to let go.

She chuckles softly as she helps you settle into bed, her fingers brushing through your hair with gentle, soothing strokes. “You did so well,” she whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m here now, alright?"

You nod, a sleepy smile spreading across your face as you nuzzle closer to her, feeling a warmth and comfort that wraps around you like a soft blanket. Wanda’s arms hold you close, her voice a soothing murmur as she reassures you, letting you know that you’re safe and adored, right where you belong.

You stir awake, your eyes fluttering open to the soft rustling of pages. Wanda sits beside you, legs crossed, reading a book, a serene look on her face. She glances down, noticing you’re awake, and her face lights up with a gentle smile.

“Hey sleepyhead,” she murmurs, closing the book and setting it aside.

You stretch and blink, trying to shake off the drowsiness. “What time is it?”

“It’s lunchtime,” Wanda replies, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. “Time for some food, what do you say?”

Food sounds amazing. Yum.

Her words send a little thrill through you, and you nod, letting her help you up as you both make your way toward the dining area. As soon as you step into the room, you notice the others - Carol, Maria, Kate, Yelena, and Natasha, all sitting around the table, their voices dropping to a hush the moment you walk in.

Natasha’s eyes meet yours, and a sly smile spreads across her face as she gets up and pulls out a chair for you. “Oh, detka, there you are,” she purrs, her voice warm and inviting. “Hungry?”

You feel your cheeks flush as everyone’s attention settles on you, and you nod, settling into the seat Natasha pulled out. Wanda takes the spot beside you, and the others exchange knowing glances before Kate starts piling your plate with food.

“Yelena really did numbers on you,” Kate teases, shooting a smirk across the table at Yelena, who only shrugs with an innocent expression. “Guess she wore you out?”

“Oh, not completely,” Yelena chimes in, her tone dripping with mischief. “Our girl’s tougher than she looks.”

Carol laughs softly, shaking her head as she takes a sip of her drink. “Really? Looks like she’s still a bit… unsatisfied.” Her gaze falls on you, her eyes glinting with playful curiosity.

You shift in your seat, feeling a warm, needy ache flare up at the memory of Yelena’s endless teasing earlier, which none of the others seem to have forgotten. You clear your throat, trying to keep it together, but they’re all watching you with varying degrees of amusement, each one fully aware of your lingering frustration.

Natasha leans in, her lips close to your ear as she murmurs, “Don’t worry, malyshka. We’ll take good care of you.” She pulls back with a wink, her voice dripping with a sultry promise that sends a shiver down your spine.

Maria, leaning back in her chair, gives you an amused once-over. “You know, we all like a challenge. And you? You’re definitely worth it.” Her words hang in the air, a mixture of sweetness and mischief.

Wanda reaches for your hand under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze, her expression soft but knowing. “Poor thing,” she coos, voice just loud enough for the others to hear. “Looks like we might have to put in a little extra effort today, hmm?”

You squirm, feeling all their gazes fixed on you, the warmth spreading from your cheeks down to the pit of your stomach as they continue to pile on the teasing remarks. Kate chuckles, taking a bite of her food. “Hope you’re ready, sweetheart. We’ve got plenty of energy to make sure you don’t feel… neglected.”

You try to focus on your food, but every little touch, every lingering glance, only heightens the needy ache that hasn’t left since this morning. It’s clear they’re having way too much fun watching you squirm, and as lunch goes on, you realize they have no intention of letting you off easy.

Eventually, Kate leans forward, “so, how about you, sweetheart?” she asks, her voice smooth and teasing. “What’s your opinion on all of this?”

You blink, caught off guard, and you stammer as you try to form a response. “I, um… well…” You can feel the heat rising in your face as all of their eyes turn to you, each one wearing an expression that’s both amused and intrigued.

“I mean,” you start, swallowing hard, “I think… I’d like it… if you all—” You falter under their collective gaze, words fumbling as you try to explain yourself, but each attempt only makes them grin wider.

“Would like it… if we all…?” Carol raises an eyebrow, the hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. “Come on, honey, you can say it. We don’t bite. Well, unless you want us to.”

The others chuckle softly, and Wanda squeezes your hand, her voice a gentle murmur. “Just say what you’re thinking, malyshka. We’re all listening.”

You take a shaky breath, gathering what little courage you have left. “I just… I wouldn’t mind if… if you all…” You trail off, feeling your cheeks go warm, but you push through, your voice barely a whisper. “If you’d all just… have some fun with me.”

The silence that follows is electric, charged with an anticipation that has your heart pounding. Natasha grins, her eyes darkening as she exchanges a glance with the others. “Well,” she murmurs, her tone laced with satisfaction. “There’s no need to be shy with us.”

Maria chuckles, leaning back with an approving nod. “Took you long enough to ask, sweetheart.”

Wanda’s fingers trace lightly over the back of your hand, her expression soft yet possessive. “Don’t worry, malysh,” she murmurs, a smile curling her lips. “We’re just getting started.”

Thank you for reading, also HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

[quotefeeling]

Let me photograph you in this light in case it is the last time.

Adele, ”When We Were Young”

[perfectfeelings]

I have insecurities of course, but I don’t hang out with anyone who points them out to me.

Adele

[sunsburns]

love in the dark

pairing: luke castellan x reader

summary: after waking in the woods, you find yourself in luke castellan’s arms. his touch feels like comfort, but his words reveal something far darker—you’ve done something terrible, and he made you do it.

word count: 1k+

warnings: fem reader, violence, there isn't too much plot, blood, death, angst, gore, murder, manipulative!luke who is lowkey turned on by violence and reader isn't any better.

You can’t shake the feeling that you’ve done something terribly wrong.

It starts as a nagging itch deep in your bones, creeping under your skin, spreading with each laboured breath. The night air is crisp, too sharp, and bites at you in a way that makes your whole body tremble. You stand in the middle of the woods, bathed in an eerie silence, the shadows twisting between the trees like waiting figures, and you swear the darkness is closing in around you.

Something is wrong—horribly wrong.

Your ears are ringing. At first, it blots out everything, but then it fades, leaving you exposed to the sounds you can’t ignore: your ragged breathing, your pounding heart, the slick, sticky feeling crawling over your skin. Sweat, you think at first, but why does it feel so thick?

Your arms ache. A deep, bone-weariness that isn’t unfamiliar. It reminds you of sparring sessions with Clarisse—the brutal ones, where she never lets up, always driving you into the ground with the excuse that real battles don’t pull punches.

“Life or death,” She’d always tell you.

But this ache is... different. It’s not from practice, not from training. No, this is something darker, something that reaches inside you, twisting, pulling at your insides.

And your stomach—oh gods, your stomach. A gnawing dread curls there, turning over on itself, a silent scream lodged in your gut. Your body trembles, your brain fogged and sluggish as it tries to catch up with the horror that’s clawing its way to the surface. Why are you in the woods? Where are your campers? What happened?

Your fingers twitch, and that’s when you notice—your spear. It’s still clutched tightly in your hands. But it feels wrong, foreign. The familiar grooves, the worn-down handle that had once brought you comfort, now presses into your palms like a stranger’s touch. It’s heavier than it’s ever been, a leaden weight that drags you down.

Before you can make sense of it, the spear is taken from your grip. The absence of its weight is shocking, and you blink as you hear it fall to the ground with a dull thud against the dry leaves and sticks. Hands touch you, cupping your cheeks, warm and soft, grounding you in the storm of confusion swirling in your head.

“You did so good.”

The voice is low, familiar. Comforting, in any other moment. But now it just twists that dread tighter, an invisible noose pulling taut.

“Luke?” Your voice is barely a whisper, hoarse and raw. You taste blood on your tongue, metallic and bitter, and it doesn’t feel like it’s your own.

“Yes, it’s me, baby.” His breath is warm against your cold skin as he presses his forehead to yours.

His hand cups the back of your neck, fingers weaving through your hair. You should feel soothed by the closeness, but the tremor in your chest betrays you—your body knows better. There’s something wrong in his touch, in the way his thumb grazes your cheek, a little too possessive, a little too… certain.

“You did so good,” he repeats, his thumb brushing the side of your face as if you’ve done something worthy of praise.

His lips brush yours, softly at first, a whisper of contact, and you let him kiss you. You’re not sure why, but the instant his mouth meets yours, your body responds. Your chest unclenches, your shaking hands ease against his chest, and a sickening comfort blooms. You lean into him. You find the safety you’re starved for in his warmth, even though you know—you know—that this safety is a lie.

The kiss deepens. His lips press harder against yours, insistent, and you feel him pulling you closer, his fingers tangling in your hair as if he’s afraid you'll slip away. There’s a hunger in him, something ravenous. It gnaws at you, urging you to surrender further, to give yourself up entirely. His mouth moves with quiet desperation, drawing you in, pulling you deeper, and you feel it—the way he consumes you. Every second, every breath, it feels like he's swallowing you whole, drawing out the pieces of you you didn’t know could be taken.

He kisses you with an open mouth, hoping you taste you, mould himself into you, to eat you.

There’s no denying the hunger.

It grows. It festers. His hands grip you tighter, possessive, as if your very essence is something he can devour. You hold onto his shoulders, nails biting against his skin through his shirt, and he kisses you deeper, more desperate now, pulling at your lips with a raw intensity that leaves you breathless. The air is stolen from your lungs, and every inch of you is consumed in his need, his want. It’s as if he’s draining you, bit by bit, feeding on the very core of you.

His hands move lower, wrapping around you fully now, pulling you into him until you can barely tell where you end and he begins. He’s everywhere—his touch, his heat, his breath—and you feel yourself slipping further into him.

The metallic taste between your lips intensifies, thickening with each kiss, and your body shudders when you realize it’s not coming from him.

It’s coming from you.

Your hands instinctively push at his chest, fingers slipping against the wet fabric of his shirt. It’s soaked. Cold. Your stomach flips as your hands glide over his skin, over something slick. He winces and you pull back just enough to look down. His shirt clings to his body, dark and saturated with... blood.

The scent of it finally hits you—coppery, thick, and suffocating. Your head spins as the world sharpens around you. The fog clears just enough for you to see him clearly in the pale moonlight. Dark streaks of crimson run down his face, staining his neck, his shirt, and his arms. There’s a gash on his abdomen, deep enough that you can see the tear in his flesh through the ripped fabric. But Luke isn’t concerned. He doesn’t flinch. He just looks at you, a slow, insidious smile spreading across his lips.

“Oh, Luke…” You choke on his name, the dread curling tighter, suffocating you. “What did you do?”

His smile widens, his eyes glinting with something dark. Something twisted. “Not me,” he whispers, voice filled with awe. “What you did.”

His words slam into you like a physical blow, knocking the breath from your lungs. "What I—?" You don’t finish. You don’t need to.

Your hands fall to your sides, your eyes trailing down, and the blood-soaked horror hits you all at once. It's not sweat. It's not just his blood. It's everywhere. The dark, sticky substance clings to your skin, matting your hair and soaking into your clothes. It drips from your fingers, and your palms, and when you look down at the spear lying in the dirt, you realize the blade is slick with it too.

No.

Your heart lurches. Your stomach twists painfully. You drop to your knees, eyes wide and unseeing, staring blankly at the blood—so much blood—as the memory rushes back in a dizzying, nauseating wave.

You were in the woods. Training. No, not training. You remember now—Luke was with you, whispering in your ear, urging you on, his voice soft and soothing, guiding your hands. He told you it was right, that you had to do it. For him. For the cause. You trusted him. Gods, you trusted him.

But when the figure stepped out of the shadows, when you felt your spear plunge deep into soft flesh, there was no enemy. No threat.

Just a kid. Someone you knew. Someone you cared about.

Their body is lying somewhere nearby, hidden in the darkness, a crumpled heap of torn flesh and broken bone. You don’t dare look. You can’t. But you feel it. The weight of what you’ve done crushes you, a suffocating guilt that claws at your throat, making it hard to breathe.

Luke crouches beside you, his bloodied hand running gently through your hair, like a lover’s caress. "You did it for me, baby," he murmurs, his voice soft, it drips with sweetness, coaxing you to surrender to it, even as a part of you recoils. "For us."

Tears burn in your eyes as you stare at the blood on your hands, the life you’ve taken. You want to scream, to tear yourself away from him, but you can’t. His grip is iron, his influence heavy. He leans in close, lips brushing your ear, and his voice is a sickly sweet poison.

He leans in, his breath warm against your ear, and it’s as if time itself slows. His words are honeyed poison, seeping into your very soul. “You’re incredible,” he whispers, and the words sink in deep, making your breath hitch, and your heart twist. “So, so incredible.”

His lips brush the curve of your jaw, soft at first, almost reverent. You don’t know what to feel—fear, guilt, or the faint flicker of comfort his closeness offers.

Your body trembles as he moves closer, his hands gliding down your arms, his touch gentle, careful. “It’s okay,” he whispers, his lips trailing to the corner of your mouth, teasing. “There's no need to feel bad. You didn’t hurt me.”

“Luke-“

“You did the right thing,” he breathes, his lips ghosting over yours, lingering, tempting.

His hand finds its way to your waist, pulling you into him as if the physical closeness will anchor you to him for good. You can feel his heartbeat, steady and sure, as if the violence, the blood, the act you’ve committed—it all means nothing to him. He just wants you.

He presses his lips to yours, slow and deliberate, as if branding you with the kiss. The warmth of his mouth seeps into you, an intoxicating mix of comfort and power.

But deep down, beneath the haze of his touch, you know this isn’t comfort.

His lips move against yours again, hungrier now, demanding more as his fingers slide over your waist and pull you closer as if he’s solidifying the pact between you. The kiss deepens, and with it, so does the sense of inescapable fate. You try to pull away, to think, but he chases your lips, capturing you again. Each time you draw breath, he’s there, pressing his mouth harder against yours, ensuring every inhale is filled with him.

“You’re all mine,” he murmurs, kissing the words into your skin, and you can feel the finality in them, the promise.

His hand trails down your back, pulling you into his lap as if you need to be cradled in this moment of devastation. The blood on your hands smears against his skin, mingling with the fresh cuts that line his chest. But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t even flinch. He just holds you.

And you realize—he’s never going to let you go.

Not now. Not after this.

[perfectquote]

Let me photograph you in this light in case it is the last time.

Adele, ”When We Were Young”

[thehopefulquotes]

I have insecurities of course, but I don’t hang out with anyone who points them out to me.

Adele

[feral-ballad]

Adele Ne Jame, ed. by Nathalie Handal, from The Poetry of Arab Women: A Contemporary Anthology; “Somnambulist”

[Text ID: "His kisses are deep roses, the flutter of birds."]

[necrotic-nephilim]

For the ask game: AU where during Tim's search for Bruce, Ra's agrees to help him on one condition: Tim will sleep with him. (It's probably some kind of scheme on Ra's part.) How their dynamic would change with more overt sexual undertone underlying their interactions...

for the ask game!

UGH i love this type of thing so much. in my heart, this is canon. to me. Ra'sTim my fucked up beloveds you two are so terrible for each other.

so what i think is fun and often misunderstood in fanon is that Tim didn't go to Ra's, Ra's went to Tim. so it's even more fun if Ra's goes to Tim, and has that condition he holds over Tim's head. offering all of Ra's' resources, full access to his computers, someone just genuinely believing Tim and working with him. i think, a lot of it would be a mind game for Ra's. sure he wants to fuck Tim, but more than that, he wants to see Tim's reaction. he expects an immediate no, in the way Tim is so hesitant to work with Ra's in the first place. he's pushing Tim's buttons and basically treating Tim like a rat in a maze. so when Tim says yes, and doesn't seem to hesitate too much. *that's* intriguing. because in a perfect world for Ra's, Tim says yes because of a genuine returned attraction. but Ra's isn't quite sure if that's the reason. it could just be because of Tim's search for Bruce. so Ra's would really push it, see how far he could take the sex. it's simple sex first, but Ra's gets more and more interesting each time. slowly working in kinks just to see where Tim draws the line in the sand, and if Ra's can convince Tim to cross that line.

on Tim's side, i think it's fun if you play with Tim being so deep in the closet he doesn't even realize he's bisexual, yet. so to him, sex with Ra's doesn't *really* count as sex. he knows Ra's is weirdly obsessed with him, and Tim wants to play that to his advantage. he likes the power that obsession gives him, within the League. so, if it takes some sex to satiate Ra's, Tim mentally views it as like, a training session. no worse than those unpleasant endurance trainings Bruce used to make them all do. and i like the accidental catch-22 of it. where at first, the sex does very little for Tim. but the more Ra's gets creative and kinky about it, the more Tim *actually* starts to enjoy it. Tim's bisexual crisis except it's over a centuries-old man showing him the joys of sadomasochism in an agreement that was supposed to be totally normal for Tim bc he just gets himself into these situations.

i think one of the biggest changes would be Tim's sheer amount of power and immunity in the League would be even higher. *everyone* can tell Ra's is fucking Tim, he's not really trying to hide it with the way he looks at Tim and touches him in front of everyone. Tim tries to stay clinical and professional, but you can only look so respected working when Ra's is basically stroking your chest as you work. there are whispers, people keep tellin Ra's not to trust this random son of the Bat, but no one will say it to Tim's face. it'd give Tim more power over Ra's' operation outside of the Bruce search. sure, Tim can't change the nature of the League of Assassins, but he can. tip the scales a bit. pull Ra's back from being lethal in certain situations, convince Ra's not to engage in other places. Tim is careful not to overextend this power so he doesn't lose it, but everyone else sees just how much power Tim has. he even start working on taking people out from under Ra's, when Tim goes nuclear and leaves. like how Tim basically steals Prudence, he steals some other younger Assassins he thinks he can convince to come to his side. because he's with Ra's, he starts to command a level of respect so it's not a difficult thing to do. sure, Tim's just the kid keeping Ra's' bed warm. but also, he's the kid *Ra's* deemed worthy enough to be involved with, so it's a double-edged sword of both disgust and respect held for Tim.

it's so funny to me if Tim starts to catch feelings. Ra's of course has feelings, but Tim has never noticed his feelings for a man before so he's fucking panicking internally. and worse, he's not doing a good job of hiding it. Ra's is perceptive and has centuries of experience on Tim. so he can tell. he sees the look on Tim's face when Ra's does a genuine romantic gesture with no strings attached. and that's when Ra's really leans into it. the sex is one thing, but now it's courting. gifts, pet names, kisses, praise, the whole nine yards. and Tim doesn't outwardly deny any of it because he just... doesn't know what to do with it. he could handle stupidly good sex. but this?? this is new territory. he's constantly reminding himself Ra's isn't a good person. which isn't hard to do but still, Tim's just a little torn internally. also. i think Ra's would at least try to kill Captain Boomerang, if not outright succeed, as a courting present for Tim. and Tim is *horrified*, but then again, in canon, he almost personally killed Boomerang. so maybe. there's something nice about having Boomerang dead, while escaping culpability. Ra's thinks his corruption crusade is working on Tim and is absolutely gloating about it. they even go on a proper date.

but, in the end, Tim still backstab Ra's. i think Ra's would still try to go for control of WI, but would be convinced Tim would be totally okay with it and offers to share control with Tim. that's how Tim betrays him, he's allowed to handle so much of the paperwork, Ra's has no idea until it all goes through that he actually has no control. it's The betrayal. because Tim will always betray his love for what he thinks is the right thing to do. the infamous scene, where Ra's kicks Tim out of a window would go a lot differently. instead of a dramatic fight, it's deeply wounded betrayal. in canon Ra's always knew Tim was never in his pocket, but in this AU, he was naive enough to fall for it. and he's angry. he's angry at Tim, angry at himself. i think he'd straight up try to kidnap Tim. less "kick Tim out a window" and more "intimately hold a knife to Tim's throat" vibes. they part ways, but there's still. something lingering. the bridge isn't fully burned and Ra's is still going to seek out Tim when he needs help, and Tim will seek out Ra's. they'll never trust each other again. but they also can't seem to stop loving each other. Tim hides it from the Batfamily and Ra's never gives Tim that level of control in the League again but. the "i didn't know who else to got to." moments are inevitable and there are whispers in the villain community about how you better be careful around Red Robin because if you're not, you'll piss off the Demon Head. unspoken, deadly protection while still sort of trying to kill each other.

[thoughtkick]

I have insecurities of course, but I don’t hang out with anyone who points them out to me.

Adele

[resqectable]

I have insecurities of course, but I don’t hang out with anyone who points them out to me.

Adele

[adel-memes]

I can't wait to get home and upload chapter 4 😭 I have it done but I'm not able to upload yet

[screaminglygay]

Hop on.

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary: when your brother’s bike breaks down, you turn to natasha´s shop for help, what starts as a simple repair leads to a whirlwind of teasing banter. sometimes, fixing a bike can lead to mending more than just machinery.

warnings: bike accident, but nothing horrible, then just FLUFF!!, mild teasing, brother being an ass hehe

word count: 8.9k

an: i wrote this a while ago, but i still really like this one a lot, so i hope you´ll do too:) also yes, i don´t know anything about bikes:D

"What can I help you with?" The receptionist asks, but noticing you´re worried look right away.

"Um… my brother, he- had an accident," you mumble out to her.

"Can you tell me your name, miss?" She looks down at her computer.

"(Y/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N)," you show her your ID.

The lady gives you the ID back, makes a few clicks and looks back at you, "he is in the room number seven."

You basically sprint there, slamming the door open, thankfully your brother was the only person in there. But the sight of him made you confused, he was sitting on the bed, smiling as usual, just few bruises on his face and a bandage oh his leg.

"Hey, sis," he makes the peace sign, while your heartbeat is going milions per seconds.

"Hey, sis?! Hey, sis?! What the hell?!" You walk up to him and smack him.

"Ouch! What was that for?" He scratches his head.

"What was- are you kidding me?" You pull out your phone, "25 minutes ago, I got this message from your friend: 'hey, don´t freak out, but your brother is going to the hospital, bike accident.' I rush here, committing like thirty-seven crimes…and you´re here smiling and saying 'hey, sis?!'"

"Oh… Kevin´s idiot," he shakes his head.

"No, you are! What the hell happened?!" You move your hands around.

"Can you just chill for a second? Jeez." He stratches, "We were riding, normally, but then one of the cars cut me off and I slipped. I´m fine, but bike was pretty fucked up." As he tells you the story of what´ve happened, you scan his face, obivously you´re glad he is okay, but deep down you´re angry that he still rides that thing.

"Are you sure you´re okay? You look down on his leg.

"Yeah, nothing that didn´t happened before. But uh… I need ride back home." He shifts in his position, even when he tries to mask it, he is still in some visible pain.

"I figured. Stay here, I´ll get someone…"

After two hours he is finally let out of the hospital, you help him into the passenger seat, careful not to jar his injured leg. As you close the door, you mutter, “I swear, one day that bike is going to be the death of you.”

He rolls his eyes as you start the car. “You worry too much. It’s not like I haven’t crashed before.”

“Yeah, and you’re still riding that death trap.” You grip the steering wheel tighter than necessary. “Why do you even keep that thing? It’s not like you can ride it anytime soon.”

He winces as he shifts in his seat, not meeting your gaze. “I just… I need it fixed, okay? I’ll be careful next time. Can you help me with that… pleaseee?

You let out a sigh. “You’re lucky you didn’t end up worse. Fine, I’ll take care of it, but you’re not driving that bike again until I’m sure it won’t fall apart under you.”

“Thanks, (Y/N),” he says, softer than before, like he knows you mean well even when you’re pissed. He’s quiet for a moment, then adds, “You know, there’s a mechanic not far from here, Red Guardian.”

You nod, making a mental note. “I’ll check it out. But you, mister, are on bed rest.”

"Aren´t you three years younger than me?"

You glance at him, "and yet I´m the smarter one, so bed it is."

“Whatever you say, mom.”

...

Two days later you finally arrive at Red Guardin, a place that looks far more organized than you expected for a bike shop. The sign is simple, but the place has a charm, just like you’d heard. You park your car and walk inside, the smell of oil and metal hitting you as you step through the door.

A woman with fiery red braided hair is leaning over a motorcycle, hands deep in the engine. She doesn’t look up as she says, “Be with you in a sec.”

You clear your throat, trying not to be too obvious as you check her out. “Uh, take your time.”

She straightens up, wiping her hands on a rag before turning to face you. Her green eyes meet yours, and she gives you a small, confident smirk. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m here about my brother’s bike,” you start, but she cuts you off.

“Your brother? The guy who got cut off and ended up in the hospital?” She chuckles lightly, shaking her head. “Yeah, I heard about him. Of what I´ve heard that bike’s a mess, but there is nothing I can´t fix.”

You blink, a little taken aback. “You already know about it?”

“Word travels fast in this town,” Natasha replies, that teasing smile still on her lips. “Plus, your brother’s been in here before. He’s not exactly subtle.”

You roll your eyes. “Of course. He didn’t tell me that part.”

“So, where’s the patient?” Natasha smiles as she takes some gloves.

You fumble with your words for a moment, feeling a little awkward. “Uh, it’s in my car. Or, well, in the truck bed."

You lead her outside to where you´re parked. Natasha walks around it, examining the damage with a critical eye. She’s quiet for a moment, then looks over at you. “Well, the frame’s a little bent, and the engine’s definitely seen better days. But it’s not totaled. I can fix this.”

You nod, relieved. “Thank God. I had no idea what to do. I mean, I know a bike has wheels, an engine, and all that, but that’s where my knowledge ends.”

Natasha gives you a teasing smile. “Good thing you came to the right place. I’ll need to take it inside and get a closer look. Mind helping me unload it?”

You quickly agree, and the two of you start unstrapping the bike. Natasha shows you where to hold it and how to carefully lower it down. As you work together, she starts explaining what she’s looking for.

“See this here?” she says, pointing to a section of the frame. “It’s bent, but not too badly. I’ll have to realign it, though. And this,” she taps the engine, “will need a rebuild. Your brother’s lucky it didn’t crack.”

You listen intently, trying to follow along even though most of what she’s saying goes over your head. Natasha notices your blank expression and laughs softly. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. By the time I’m done, it’ll be good as new.”

You can’t help but smile at how confident she is. “Thanks," you look down for a name tag, but there isn´t one,

"It´s Natasha," she smiles.

You nod, "Natasha, I really appreciate it. My brother would lose his mind if he thought he couldn’t ride again.”

She gives you a quick wink. “No problem. I’m used to fixing things, especially when they mean a lot to someone.”

There’s a warmth in her voice that makes your heart skip a beat. You swallow nervously, trying to focus on the bike and not the way Natasha is looking at you with that confident, playful smirk.

You´re glad that you found the right place.

…

As you pull up to your house, the sun already dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows across the yard. As you step inside, your brother is lounging on the couch, leg propped up on a stack of pillows, flipping through channels on the TV. He looks up as you walk in, his eyes narrowing in concern.

“Well?” he asks, cutting straight to the point. “Is it fixable? Am I ever going to ride again?”

You set your bag down and kick off your shoes, feeling the day’s tension start to melt away. “Natasha said it’s fixable, but it’ll take some time. The frame’s bent, and the engine needs a rebuild. But she’s confident she can get it back in shape.” You repeat what she told you earlier.

He visibly relaxes, “Natasha is fixing it? Good. I was worried it’d be a total loss."

“Yeah, well, you got lucky,” you say, crossing your arms as you lean against the doorway. “You’re not exactly gentle on that thing.”

He scoffs. “It’s a bike, not a porcelain doll. It’s meant to be ridden hard.”

You roll your eyes. “And that’s why you’re here, with a busted leg, instead of out riding. You should really be more careful.”

He shoots you a teasing grin. “You sound like mom agan.”

“Someone has to, since you clearly don’t listen at all.”

He chuckles, then winces as he adjusts his leg. “Okay, okay, point taken. But when it will be ready?”

Your expression softening. “Natasha said she’ll have it back to you in no time. She knows what she’s doing. It’ll be like new—maybe even better.”

He sighs, relief washing over his features. “Great-" you cut him off.

"You´ll take it easy when you get back on the road. No more stunts, no more pushing your luck. You got off easy this time, but next time you might not be so lucky.”

He rolls his eyes but nods. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be careful.”

“I mean it!” you say, your tone firm but caring. “I don’t want to get another call like that.”

His teasing expression fades, and he nods more seriously. “I know. I’ll be careful. Promise.”

You give him a small smile, reaching over to mess up his hair. “Good. Now, get some rest."

"I will, but can you promise you will check on the bike, when you can?" He gives you the best innocent look he possibly can.

"I will check it out tomorrow after work." You nod.

“Thanks, sis. I owe you one.”

“Yeah, you do,” you reply, “and don’t forget it.”

As you walk away, you hear him mutter, “I won’t!”

…

The next day, you find yourself back at the shop, unable to shake the feeling of curiosity or maybe it’s something else entirely, that pulls you there. The familiar scent of motor oil and metal greets you as you step inside. Natasha is already hard at work, leaning over a bike with her back to you, her hands moving expertly as she adjusts something under the engine. You can´t help, but stare. Her toned hands are someting you can definetly look at forever.

She glances up as you approach, a smirk playing on her lips when she sees you basically drooling. “Back again? You know, most people don’t check in this often. Are you here to make sure I’m actually working?”

You snap back out of your thoughts, shaking your head. “No, nothing like that. My brother’s just obsessed with that bike. He’s convinced it needs constant check-ups or it’ll fall apart. Honestly, he probably cares about it more than is healthy.”

Natasha straightens up, wiping her hands on a rag as she walks over to you, a teasing glint in her eye. “Sounds like a lot of work, keeping up with all those concerns. You know, I could make it easier for you…”

“Oh?” you reply, raising an eyebrow. “And how exactly would you do that?”

She leans casually against the counter, that familiar smirk tugging at her lips. “I could give you my number. That way, you can check in on the bike whenever you or your brother want. Get updates straight from the source.”

You laugh, feeling a little flustered by how smooth she is. “Right, for the bike.”

“Of course, for the bike,” Natasha says, her voice dripping with playful innocence, though the mischievous sparkle in her eyes tells you she’s enjoying this. She pulls her phone from her pocket, handing it to you. “Here, you can add your number.”

You take her phone, typing in your contact details, and then you pause. Instead of handing it back, you grin and ring yourself right away.

Natasha chuckles, clearly impressed. She takes her phone back and glances at the screen. Her expression shifts into one of amused surprise when she sees what you’ve entered. “Finally, I get to know your name. Pleasure to meet you officially, (Y/N).”

You feel your cheeks warm slightly as she says your name, her voice low and smooth.

She grins, leaning in just a bit closer, her voice dropping to a softer tone. “Well, I like to take my time with the important things. So tell you brother it will take some time, just to make sure his bike is ready for his awful riding."

You swallow, trying not to get too flustered under her gaze. “I´ll tell him that." You nod.

With one last shared look, you turn to leave, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nerves. As you step out of the shop, your phone buzzes. You glance down to see a new text from Natasha: “Just in case you need another excuse to visit. See you soon, (Y/N).”

You can’t help but smile as you tuck your phone back into your pocket, already looking forward to the next visit.

...

Over the next few days, you find yourself returning to the shop more often than you’d care to admit. At first, it’s just to check on the bike, of course, but then you don´t even care to hide, that there is one more, bigger reason to come into the shop.

One afternoon, she catches you watching her as she tightens a bolt on the engine. “You know, you’re here enough that I should put you to work.”

You laugh. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

She gives you her usual smirk. “I could show you. How about a crash course in motorcycle basics?” Before you can protest, she’s grabbing a helmet off the wall and tossing it to you. “Here, put this on.”

“Wait, what? I don’t even know how to ride.”

“Don’t worry,” she says, her voice low and teasing. “I’ll take care of you.”

"I- won´t this get you into a trouble?" You frown a bit.

"My dad owns the shop, I think I´ll be fine." You feel your cheeks heat up as you put on the helmet. Natasha swings a leg over the bike, patting the seat behind her. “Hop on.”

You hesitate for just a moment before climbing on, wrapping your arms around her waist. She revs the engine, the sound vibrating through you as she takes off, the wind whipping past your face. She’s almost intoxicating at everything she does.

When she finally stops back in the parking lot next to the shop, your heart is racing for more reasons than one. Natasha turns to look at you over her shoulder, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Not bad for a first ride, huh?”

You can’t help but smile. “Not bad at all.”

Natasha swings her leg over the bike, smoothly dismounting and turning to face you. Ugh the stupid smirk on her pretty face. “You handled yourself pretty well back there. I think you’ve got some natural talent.” She helps you take off the helmet.

You laugh, still feeling the rush of the wind and the hum of the engine. “I was just trying not to fall off. But I’ll take the compliment.”

She steps closer, close enough that you can feel her parfume mixed with oil from the repairs. “You know, riding isn’t just about holding on. It’s about trust. Trusting the bike, trusting yourself… and maybe trusting the person in front of you.”

Your breath catches slightly at her words, and you realize she’s no longer just talking about riding. You meet her eyes, and there’s a tension between you, a pull that’s hard to ignore. “I guess I did trust you back there.”

Natasha’s smirk widens, and she tilts her head, studying you with a gaze that feels like it’s seeing right through you. “Good. I like that.”

You try to steady your breathing, but it’s difficult with her standing so close. “Do you do this with all your clients?”

She chuckles, a low, rich sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “I don’t take just anyone for a ride, (Y/N). Consider yourself special.”

The way she says your name makes your heart skip a beat. There’s a moment of a silence between you, making you aware of how close she is, how her eyes seem to linger on yours, searching for something.

Natasha’s gaze flickers to your lips for the briefest moment, and your breath hitches. “You know,” she says softly, her voice dropping to a more intimate tone, “there’s a lot more I could show you. If you’re interested.”

Your pulse quickens, a mix of nerves and anticipation coursing through you. The air between you feels charged, every second stretching out as you weigh her words. You know she’s definetly not just talking about bikes anymore, and the realization sends a thrill through you.

“I think I’m interested,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

Natasha’s smile deepens, her eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. “Good.” She steps even closer, her presence almost overwhelming now. “Because I don’t do half-measures, (Y/N). If you’re in, you’re all in.”

You feel a nervous flutter in your stomach, but it’s not enough to hold you back. “I think I can handle that.”

Her eyes darken slightly, her voice taking on a more serious note. “Are you sure? Because once we start, I don’t plan on stopping.”

The intensity of her words makes your heart race, but you don’t back down. Instead, you meet her gaze head-on, the challenge in her eyes only spurring you on. “I’m sure, Natasha.”

For a heartbeat, neither of you moves, the tension between you almost unbearable. Then, as if making a decision, Natasha leans in, her hand brushing lightly against your arm. The touch is brief but electric, sending a jolt through you.

“Glad to hear it,” she murmurs, her breath warm against your skin

Before you can respond, Natasha finally pulls back, though the look in her eyes tells you that this is far from over. She glances at the bike, then back at you, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You should head home. I wouldn’t want to keep you out too late… this time.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, nodding. “Right. I should… probably get going.”

“Probably,” she agrees, though there’s a teasing edge to her voice that makes it clear she wouldn’t mind if you stayed longer.

As you walk back to your car, Natasha watches you with that same unreadable expression, like she’s already planning the next move. You reach your car door, pausing to glance back at her. “So… I’ll come check on the bike tomorrow same time?”

Natasha crosses her arms, leaning against the doorframe of the shop, her smile turning into something almost predatory. “I´m counting on it, (Y/N).”

You give her a small smile in return, feeling that same mixture of excitement and nerves bubbling up inside you. As you start the car and pull away, you can’t help but glance at her going inside the shop once more.

The cool night air feels refreshing on your flushed cheeks as you step out of the car going back home, the smile on your face almost impossible to hide. As you approach the front door, you take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. But the excitement from the evening is still buzzing inside you, making it hard to calm the butterflies in your stomach.

When you walk inside, your brother is sprawled out on the couch again, a half-empty bag of chips beside him and a game paused on the TV. He looks up as you close the door behind you, eyebrows lifting in surprise. “You’re home late,” he remarks, his voice dripping with curiosity. “What’s got you all smiley?”

You pause, trying to wipe the grin off your face, but it’s no use. “Oh, nothing,” you say, attempting nonchalance as you shrug out of your jacket and hang it up. “Just, you know… checking on your bike.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying your casual tone. “Uh-huh. And since when does checking on my bike make you look like you just won the lottery?”

You shoot him a look, but it’s playful, and he knows it. “Since today, apparently.”

He narrows his eyes at you, sitting up a bit straighter. “Okay, spill. What happened?”

You hesitate for a moment, debating how much to tell him. But then you decide it’s harmless enough. “Well… I rode it, you know a test ride I assume.”

He blinks, clearly not expecting that. “Wait, what? You rode my bike? The same bike you’ve always refused to even sit on?”

You nod, trying to keep your voice steady. “Yeah. Natasha let me try it out.”

His expression shifts, realization dawning as a smirk spreads across his face. “Natasha, huh? So, you finally decided to take the plunge… because she asked?”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no hiding the blush that creeps up your neck. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, sure it’s not,” he says, leaning back with a smug grin. “You always said no to me, no matter how many times I tried to get you on that bike. But one pretty redhead asks, and suddenly you’re Evel Knievel.”

You try to play it cool, but you can’t help the smile that slips out. “Well, she made a good case. And besides, you know how scared I am.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Yeah, so scared until Natasha Romanoff turns on the charm. I see how it is.”

You grab a throw pillow and toss it at him, but he catches it easily, still grinning. “Shut up.”

He throws the pillow back, missing you by an inch. “Hey, no judgment here. I’m just saying, I knew something was up when you walked in all smiley. I didn’t expect it to be this, though.”

You shake your head, trying to suppress your own laughter. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yep,” he says proudly, then adds with a wink, “So, when’s the next ‘check-up’ on my bike?”

You roll your eyes again, but you can’t help the small smile that lingers on your lips. “Goodnight, dork,” you say, turning to head toward your room.

“Goodnight, bike thief,” he calls after you, his voice filled with playful teasing.

As you close your bedroom door behind you, you lean against it for a moment, your smile growing even wider. Just as you’re about to lay in bed and snuggle with your blanket, your phone buzzes on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with a notification.

You reach over and grab it, your heart skipping a beat when you see who the message is from.

Natasha: Hope you didn’t get into trouble for coming home so late. Wouldn’t want to get you grounded ;)

You can’t help but smile at the playful tone in her text.

You quickly type out a reply: No, just had to endure a bit of teasing. My brother thinks he’s hilarious.

You hit send, still smiling as you stare at your phone, waiting to see if she’ll reply. It doesn’t take long before your phone buzzes again.

Natasha: Sounds like he’s got a good sense of humor. He’s probably just jealous you rode his bike.

Your smile widens as you think about her words, and the memory of the ride flashes in your mind. The wind, the speed, the way Natasha’s laughter had echoed in the air, it had been more fun than you ever expected. You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks as you type your response.

You type out: Maybe. But I think it was more because of the company than the ride.

There’s a pause, and for a moment, you wonder if you were too forward. But then your phone buzzes again, and Natasha’s reply makes your heart flutter.

Natasha: I was hoping you’d say that. Maybe next time, we can make the ride even more interesting.

You bite your lip, trying to keep your giddy excitement in check. There’s something intoxicating about the way she flirts, the way she effortlessly mixes teasing with sincerity. You decide to match her energy, your fingers dancing across the screen as you craft your response.

You: I’m all for interesting;)

A few seconds pass before her next message arrives.

Natasha: Challenge accepted, (Y/N). Sweet dreams.

You grin at the screen, feeling a warm, fuzzy sensation spread through your chest.

You: Goodnight, Natasha.

You set your phone down and curl up under the covers, still smiling as you think about her last text. The excitement from the evening lingers as you drift off to sleep. Whatever happens next, you’re ready for it.

…

A couple of days have passed since you lastly check up on the bike, some work got stuck up and you weren´t able to see Natasha as much as you´d like. Thanfuly the texting between you and Natasha has only gotten more frequent, filled with light-hearted banter, playful teasing, and the occasional flirty remark.

Then, one evening, just as you’re settling down after dinner, your phone buzzes with a new message. You pick it up, your heart doing that now familiar little flip when you see Natasha’s name on the screen.

Natasha: So, I was thinking… how about we do something that doesn’t involve bikes this weekend?

You blink at the screen, your pulse quickening. It’s not exactly a date invitation, but it’s close enough that your mind immediately starts racing.

You: What do you have in mind?

Her reply comes almost instantly.

Natasha: I know a nice spot for dinner. How does Friday sound?

Your stomach flips with excitement. This is definitely a date. You type back before you can overthink it.

You: Friday sounds perfect.

Natasha: Great. I’ll pick you up at 7.

You stare at the screen, a grin spreading across your face. A date. With Natasha. Suddenly, Friday can’t come fast enough.

…

When Friday finally arrives, you’re a bundle of nerves and excitement. By late afternoon, you’re standing in front of your closet, pulling out outfits and discarding them almost as quickly. Nothing seems right - too casual, too dressy, not “you” enough. You groan in frustration, tossing yet another dress onto the bed.

“Uh… what’s going on in here?” your brother’s voice cuts through your frantic search, and you turn to see him leaning in the doorway, arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

"Shouldn´t you be in bed?" You look at his leg.

He shakes his head, "what´s all of this?" Your brother nods towards the mess in your room.

“Nothing,” you mutter, but your flushed cheeks and the mess of clothes around you betray the truth.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” he says, hopping into the room and picking up a discarded top. “Who are you getting all dressed up for?”

You hesitate, then sigh, realizing there’s no use hiding it. “Natasha invited me to dinner. She’s picking me up in an hour.”

His eyes widen in surprise, then narrow as a grin spreads across his face. “Natasha? Oooo (Y/N) has a date, (Y/N) has a date!"

You nod, biting your lip as you rifle through your clothes again. “Yeah. So, I need to find something that says ‘date,’ but not ‘trying too hard.’”

He chuckles, clearly enjoying this. “Wow, you must really like her if you’re this worked up.”

You huff, grabbing a simple but flattering top that you haven’t worn in a while. “Maybe I do. But it’s just… I don’t know, I want it to be perfect, you know?”

He watches you for a moment, then his teasing demeanor softens. “You’ll look great, no matter what you wear. Just be yourself, and she’ll be into it.”

You pause, then smile gratefully at him. “Thanks.”

"But don´t wear that," he points at the top you´re holding, "take the black shirt over there." He chuckles.

You roll your eyes, but to be honest you´re really glad, that you have your brother there, to ease your nerves. When you look in the mirror, you feel a little more confident. You can do this.

Right on time, there´s a buzz from your phone. You grab your purse, take a deep breath, and head downstairs. Your brother, ever the nosy one, is already at the window, peeking through the curtains. “Your ride’s here,” he says, smirking. “And I gotta say, she cleans up nice.”

You roll your eyes at him but feel your pulse quicken as you reach the door. Sure enough, when you step outside, Natasha is waiting for you, leaning casually against a car. But tonight, she’s swapped out her usual work clothes for something a little more polished - dark jeans, a fitted leather jacket over a crisp shirt, and boots that complete the look. The sight of her takes your breath away.

“Wow,” you manage to say as you walk up to her. “It’s nice to see you in something other than grease-stained coveralls.”

Natasha grins, her eyes sweeping over you appreciatively. “You look pretty well yourself. But don’t get too used to this, I’m usually more comfortable getting my hands dirty.”

You chuckle, feeling the tension ease a bit. “I like both looks.”

She steps closer, her gaze warm as it meets yours. “Good to know. Ready for dinner?”

“Definitely,” you reply nervously.

As she opens the passenger door for you, she suddenly glances over your shoulder and smirks. “Looks like we have an audience.”

You glance back to see your brother peeking out from behind the curtains, grinning like an idiot. He gives you a thumbs up, then waves cheekily at Natasha, who waves back with a teasing smile.

“Sorry about him,” you say, feeling your cheeks heat up as you climb into the car. “He’s… enthusiastic.”

Natasha just laughs as she slides into the driver’s seat. “He’s alright. At least he approves.”

“Yeah, well, he’s probably just happy I’m not yelling at him for riding that bike,” you reply with a grin.

As Natasha starts the car and pulls away from the house, she glances over at you, her voice taking on a playful tone. “Guess I’ll just have to make sure this date is worth the teasing you’re going to get when you get home.”

You meet her gaze, feeling the spark between you light up again. “I’m sure it will be.”

Natasha drives you to a cozy restaurant that you’ve never been to before. It’s the kind of place that doesn’t try too hard but still manages to be effortlessly charming. She leads you to a table by the window, where the view of the city lights adds a romantic touch to the evening. After you’re both seated, Natasha gives the server a nod, clearly a regular here, and within moments, two glasses of wine are placed in front of you.

“Do you come here often?” you ask, taking a sip.

“Every now and then,” Natasha replies with a shrug. “It’s one of those hidden gems. Not too crowded, good food, great wine. Figured it’d be a good spot to… get to know each other better.”

You smile, appreciating her thoughtfulness. “It’s perfect. And I agree, it’s definitely got a vibe.”

Natasha leans back in her chair, her gaze settling on you. “So, what else should I know about you, besides the fact that you’re fiercely protective of your brother and apparently a quick learner when it comes to riding bikes?”

You laugh, feeling a little more at ease. “Well, I don’t usually make a habit of riding bikes. That was… a first for me.”

Her eyes glint with amusement. “I’m honored to be your first, then.”

You feel a blush creep up your neck but decide to match her playful tone. “What about you? I know you’re amazing with bikes, but what else is there to know about Natasha Romanoff?”

She takes a sip of her wine, her expression thoughtful. “Well, I wasn’t always a mechanic. I’ve had a few different jobs over the years, but I’ve always liked working with my hands. There’s something satisfying about taking something broken and making it whole again.”

“Did you grow up around bikes?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Sort of,” she says, a small smile playing on her lips, "my father worked on bikes since I can remeber, but I learned a lot on my own, picked up skills along the way and after some years I was kinda stuck with it in his shop."

You nod, sensing there’s more to her story than she’s letting on, but you don’t push. “I get that. I’ve never been big into them, but I can see the appeal. The way you talked about them, showed me around your shop… it made me see them differently.”

Natasha’s gaze softens, and for a moment, the teasing edge in her eyes fades. “Less scary? I’m glad I could share that with you. I don’t usually open up about that stuff with just anyone.”

You nod, feeling comfortable and curious about discovering who Natasha really is, beyond the confident, flirty exterior.

“So,” Natasha says, breaking the silence with a smirk, “I have to ask… what made you say yes to this? I mean, I know I’m irresistible, but still…”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re definitely confident, I’ll give you that. But honestly? It’s because you’re… different. Not what I expected, in a good way.”

Her smirk softens into a genuine smile. “I’m glad to hear that. I was hoping I didn’t scare you off with the whole ‘let’s ride a bike together’ thing.”

“Not at all,” you say, meeting her gaze. “In fact, I think that’s what intrigued me the most. You challenge me, in a way that’s exciting. And I like that.”

Natasha holds your gaze, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away. “Good,” she says quietly. “Because I like it too.”

As the evening progresses, with ordered food, the conversation flows effortlessly. You talk about your lives, your families, your dreams - sharing stories that are both funny and revealing. Natasha opens up about her past, hinting at the difficulties she faced growing up, while you share some of your own challenges. There’s a comfort in the way you can both be honest with each other, even if not every detail is fully revealed.

At one point, the conversation turns to your brother, and Natasha leans in, clearly curious. “So, what’s the deal with you and your brother? You two seem pretty close.”

You smile fondly. “We are. He’s a pain sometimes, but he’s my best friend. We’ve been through a lot together, and he’s always had my back.”

Natasha nods, her expression softening. “Sounds like you’ve got a good thing going. Not everyone’s lucky enough to have that kind of bond.”

You nod. “Yeah, I’m grateful for him. And it looks like he likes you, so."

Natasha grins, the playful spark returning to her eyes. 'Well, that’s a relief. I wouldn’t want to get on his bad side, though I think a 50% voucher to the shop might earn me some bonus points with him.

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in days. “Don´t worry, you’re in his good books. You ride a bike and you know everything about it, plus the voucher sounds amazing. Trust me, I´m the one who is on thin line here. He’s already convinced I’ve got a crush on you anyways, so…” You talk faster than you think.

Natasha arches an eyebrow, leaning closer. “And do you?”

You hesitate, but only for a second. “Maybe I do.”

Her smile widens, a mixture of satisfaction and warmth. “I´ll take a maybe." You take another sip of wine, your heart racing in the best way possible.

Eventually, the dinner plates are cleared, and the conversation winds down. Natasha pays the bill, despite your protests, and then you’re back in the car, driving through the quiet streets. The tension that filled the air earlier has softened into something more comfortable, more familiar.

When she pulls up to your house, she turns to you with that mischievous smile that makes your pulse quicken. “So, did I live up to your expectations?”

You smile back, unbuckling your seatbelt. “More than that.”

She chuckles, clearly pleased. “Glad to hear it. I’ll see you soon?”

You nod, biting your lip. “Definitely. And I´m paying next time!”

"I don´t think you will, but it´s cute that you´re figting for it." Natasha chuckles.

Before you can overthink it, you lean in and kiss her cheek, lingering just long enough to feel the warmth of her skin. When you pull back, her eyes are sparkling, and there’s a pleased smile on her lips.

“Goodnight, Natasha,” you say softly, stepping out of the car. Even though the inside of your brain is just a big mess and your body is full of butterlfies that are buzzing through your body.

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” she replies, watching every step of yours. You walk up to your front door, you glance back and see your brother peeking through the window again, grinning like a fool. You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling as you give him a little wave before stepping inside. As soon as you close the front door your brother is standing in the hallway, arms crossed, with a grin that can only be described as infuriatingly smug.

“So…” he starts, drawing out the word with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “How was it?”

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool as you kick off your shoes. “How was what?”

He snorts, clearly not buying your act. “The date. You know, the one you spent an hour agonizing over an outfit for? The one with the gorgeous redhead who just dropped you off?”

You feel your cheeks heat up, but you maintain a casual tone. “It was fine. We had dinner, talked… no big deal.”

“Oh, sure,” he says, nodding along in exaggerated agreement. “No big deal at all. That’s why you’ve got that goofy smile plastered on your face.”

You try to suppress your grin, but it’s no use. “Okay, fine. It was… great. Happy?”

“Very,” he says with a smirk. “But I need details. What did you guys talk about? Did she kiss you? Are you two going on another date?”

You laugh, shaking your head at his barrage of questions. “Slow down, detective. We just had a nice dinner and got to know each other better. And yes, we’re definitely going to see each other again.”

He raises an eyebrow. “No kiss, though?”

You pause, remembering the kiss you gave Natasha on the cheek before you got out of the car. “I´m not gonna discuss that with you."

“So that´s a yes. Ha! I knew it!” He points at you triumphantly. “So you like her. Like, really like her.”

“Okay, okay, yes, I do,” you finally admit, exasperated but still smiling. “But you don’t have to make a big deal out of it.”

“Oh, but it is a big deal,” he says, leaning against the wall with a grin.

“You’ve never looked this happy after a date. I’m telling you, this Natasha is something special.”

You bite your lip, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Yeah… she really is.”

He watches you for a moment, his teasing grin softening into something more sincere. “I’m glad, you know. You deserve someone who makes you smile like that.”

You blink, a little taken aback by his unexpected seriousness. “Thanks, that means a lot.”

“Don’t get too mushy on me now,” he teases, but there’s warmth in his eyes. “Just… if she hurts you, I’ll break her bike.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I think she’d rather face anything else than that.”

“Damn right,” he says with a chuckle. “But seriously, I’m happy for you, sis. Just remember, I still expect you to help me with my bike.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you reply, waving him off. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed.”

“Sure, go dream about your redhead,” he calls after you as you head up the stairs.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that spreads across your face as you think about Natasha.

…

It’s early, the sun barely peeking over the horizon as you arrive at Natasha’s shop. The garage door is partially open, you push it up and step inside, where you find Natasha already at work on a different bike. She’s focused, her hands busy, but when she sees you, her expression brightens instantly.

“Hey, didn’t expect you so early,” she says, wiping her hands on a rag before tossing it aside as always. There’s a faint grease stain on her cheek, adding to her usual rugged charm.

You shrug, trying to appear casual despite the flutter in your chest. “I figured I’d take you up on your offer. Plus, I wanted to see how the bike’s coming along, of course.”

Natasha grins, nodding toward your brother’s bike. “Your brother’s baby is coming together nicely. A few more tweaks, and it’ll be as good as new.”

You walk over to examine the bike, but your attention keeps drifting back to Natasha. The shop is quieter than usual. As Natasha finishes up what she’s doing, you lean against the workbench, watching her with a mix of admiration and something deeper. She catches your gaze and raises an eyebrow. “Something on your mind?”

You bite your lip, then decide to be bold. “You know, I’ve been thinking about that ride we took… and how you said you don’t take just anyone out.”

She steps closer, intrigued. “Oh yeah? What about it?”

You smile, heart pounding. “I was wondering if that’s still true.”

Natasha chuckles, the sound low and warm, as she moves closer still. “I wasn’t lying when I said you were special, (Y/N). But what’s really on your mind?”

There’s a pause, a moment where you´re trying to calm your thoughts. You look up at her, realizing how close she’s standing, close enough that you can smell the faint scent of oil.

Then, before you can talk yourself out of it, you say quietly, “I think you know.”

For a split second, Natasha’s confident facade wavers, replaced by something more vulnerable. But then she smirks, closing the distance between you with a deliberate slowness that sends a thrill through you. “You sure about this?” she asks softly, her voice a low murmur that makes your breath catch.

You nod, eyes locked on hers. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

And with that, Natasha leans in, her lips brushing yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s gentle at first, testing the waters, but the moment your lips meet, it’s like a spark ignites. The kiss deepens, turning into something more intense, filled with all the unspoken tension and longing that’s been building between you this whole time.

Natasha lingers close, her forehead resting gently against yours, a smile playing on her lips. But then she pulls back just slightly, glancing down at her hands still resting on your waist. “I should stop before I get grease on you,” she murmurs, her voice teasing but with a hint of genuine concern.

You glance down at her hands, noticing the faint smudges of oil and grease, and can’t help but laugh softly. “A little grease never hurt anyone,” you reply, feeling warm all over, both from the kiss and from the way she’s looking at you.

Natasha chuckles, giving you a playful grin. “True, but I don’t want to mess up your clothes. You look too good for that.”

You roll your eyes affectionately, feeling a flutter in your chest at the compliment. “So do you, grease and all.”

She smiles wider, the expression softening into something tender as she gently brushes a thumb along your jaw, careful not to smudge any grease. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“Is that a good thing?” you tease, leaning into her touch

“Definitely a good thing,” she replies, her voice low and warm. There’s a comfortable silence, where the weight of the moment sinks in. But Natasha, being who she is, breaks it with a playful grin. “So, does this mean I get to take you on another ride?”

You laugh, leaning up to kiss her cheek. “As long as we make some more stops like this one.”

She chuckles, pulling you in for another quick kiss, this one softer, sweeter. “Deal.”

Just as you’re savoring the warmth of the moment, the shop bell jingles, signaling the arrival of a customer. Natasha glances over her shoulder, then back at you with a smirk. “Looks like I’ve got work to do.”

Before she steps away, she gives your waist a quick, playful squeeze, leaning in close to murmur, “I’ll be with you in a second, (Y/N). Don’t go anywhere.” Her tone is teasing, but there’s an underlying softness that makes your heart flutter.

With one last lingering look, she turns to greet the customer, her demeanor shifting effortlessly into professional mode. The customer, a man who looks like he’s in his mid-40s, nods at Natasha, holding a small bike that clearly needs some work. “Morning. Got a bit of a problem with my kid’s bike here.”

“No problem,” Natasha says, flashing him that easy smile. “Let me take a look.”

As she moves to inspect the bike, you can’t help but notice how her muscles flex with every movement, her toned arms and back on full display as she lifts the bike onto the workbench. She handles the machine with practiced ease, her focus entirely on diagnosing the issue. You watch, a little mesmerized by the way she works—effortless, strong, and undeniably attractive.

It’s only when Natasha finishes up with the customer that you realize you’ve been staring the entire time. She thanks the man and sees him off, then turns back to you, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Catching the look on your face, she strides over, a teasing grin spreading across her lips. “Need me to grab you a rag for that drool?” she asks, leaning against the workbench with her arms crossed, clearly enjoying your flustered state.

You feel your cheeks flush with heat, but you manage to keep your composure. “I wasn’t drooling,” you protest, though the smile tugging at your lips gives you away.

Natasha steps closer, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Sure you weren’t.” She reaches out to gently tap your chin with her finger, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “But just in case, I’ll keep a rag handy for next time.”

You laugh, swatting her hand away lightly. "Ha ha ha, funny."

Natasha grins, clearly pleased with herself. “What can I say? I’m good at observing poeple.”

You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face doesn’t fade. “You’re also good at being a tease.”

“Guilty as charged,” she admits, her gaze never leaving yours. There’s a moment where the teasing drops, replaced by something softer, more sincere. “But seriously, I like seeing you here.”

Your heart skips a beat at the sudden shift in her tone. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says, her voice quieter now, more intimate. “Makes my day a little better.”

You frown playfully, "just a little better?"

She makes your chest tighten in the best way, "maybe a lot more than a little actually." Before you can respond, Natasha leans in, her breath warm against your cheek as she says, “You know, if you keep looking at me like that, I might have to kiss you again.”

Your breath catches, and you look up at her, eyes wide. “Is that a threat?”

“More like a promise,” she whispers back, her lips curving into a slow smile.

You feel a rush of warmth flood through you, and without thinking, you close the gap, pressing your lips to hers in a kiss that’s tender, sweet. Natasha responds immediately, pulling you closer, her hands firm on your waist.

When you finally break apart, you’re both a little breathless, and Natasha’s smile is brighter than ever. “Now that’s how you shut me up,” she jokes, her voice still soft, tinged with affection.

You laugh, feeling light, like you’re floating. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out to see a message from your brother: “Hey, need a hand with something. SOS!" You can’t help the small sigh that escapes you, your excitement tempered by responsibility.

Natasha notices the change in your expression and raises an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

You nod, a little reluctantly. “Yeah, just my brother. He needs help with something. Guess I should head out.”

She offers a soft smile, understanding but with a hint of disappointment in her eyes. “Duty calls, huh?”

“Yeah,” you say with a small laugh. “Sorry to bail on you.”

“No worries,” she replies, her voice warm and reassuring. “Family first.” Natasha gives you one last quick kiss, her hands squeezing your waist, before stepping back. “Take care of your brother. I’ll see you around.”

“See you,” you say softly, and with one last shared glance, you head out of the shop, already missing her presence.

When you get home, you find your brother lounging on the couch, his leg propped up with a couple of pillows. He grins when he sees you, clearly not in any dire situation.

“Sorry for interrupting your fun time with the redhead,” he teases, his tone light and playful, “but I really could use some help with this stupid remote.”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. “Really? I rushed home for this?”

“Hey, don’t blame me,” he says with a chuckle, holding up his hands in mock defense. “You’re the one who insisted on being so overprotective.”

“I-” you say, grabbing the remote and throwing it at him. He raises an eyebrow, smirking. “So I assume I ruined something nice, huh? Sounds like things are getting serious with Mrs. Redhead.”

You feel a blush creep up your neck, but you just shrug. “And you ruined it.”

He laughs, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Oh please, don´t tell me this is the last time you´re seeing her.”

It´s not, he knows it´s not. You do too. Everyone knows it is not.

“Now behave yourself, or I’ll leave you stranded next time.”

"Are you really just going to see her again?" He raises his eyebrows.

"No, I´m going to buy us some dinner, since you ate everything we had here!" He can´t help but chuckle a bit at your words.

…

It’s been a few days since your brother started walking without much pain, and he’s eager to visit Natasha’s shop to finally see his bike. You agree to take him, sensing that he’s also curious about the woman you’ve been spending so much time with.

When you arrive at the shop, Natasha greets you both with a warm smile. “Look who’s finally back on his feet,” she says, nodding at your brother.

“Yeah, feels good to walk again,” he replies, trying to sound casual, though you can tell he’s excited. “And to finally check on my bike.”

“Come on, I’ll show you what I did,” Natasha says, leading him to the back where the bike is stored. As they walk, you hang back slightly, watching them interact.

As they approach the bike, your brother takes in the sight of it, clearly impressed. “Wow, it looks brand new.”

Natasha grins. “Took some work, but it’s as good as ever. You’ll be back on the road in no time.”

He looks over at you for a moment, then back at Natasha, his expression turning a bit more serious. “Listen, Natasha, I like you. You seem like a good person, and it’s obvious my sister likes you too. But, I still have to do this.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, curious. “Do what?”

“The talk,” he says, crossing his arms. “If you hurt her, I will come and get you.”

There’s a brief pause as Natasha considers his words, then she glances down at his still slightly injured leg and smirks. “Sure you will,” she says with just the right amount of sarcasm.

Your brother chuckles, appreciating the banter. “Okay, fair point. But seriously, she’s my little sister. I’ve gotta look out for her.”

Natasha’s playful expression softens, and she nods. “I get it. And for what it’s worth, I care about her a lot. I’d never hurt her.”

Your brother studies her for a moment, then finally gives a nod of approval. “Good. Because I’d hate to have to hobble after you.” You laugh, stepping forward to join them. “You two done with your little standoff?”

Natasha chuckles, “I think we’ve come to an understanding.”

Your brother nods, "sooo when can I take my bike back home?"

"You can take it today if you´d like," this sentence makes you groan.

"Hell yeah!" Your brother states.

"Oh my god-" you exhale deeply.

"I´ll get it for you," Natasha smirks at you and goes to the back for the bike.

He winks at you, completely unfazed by your glare. “You should thank me for falling off the bike. Seems like it led to something good.”

Natasha chuckles softly as she overhear the conversation, clearly enjoying this. You resist the urge to smack your brother’s arm. “Don’t push your luck.”

He shrugs, leaning back against the counter. “You’re welcome, sis. I guess we are even now.”

Hehe thank you for reading!

[surqrised]

I have insecurities of course, but I don’t hang out with anyone who points them out to me.

Adele

[bluegarners]

i think i am going to write it anyway, but i think it'd be interesting to hear people's opinions

[stay-close]

I have insecurities of course, but I don’t hang out with anyone who points them out to me.

Adele