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therealmylesmorales

May 26

redroomreflections

Still Us (Even Louder) Chapter 11

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader The Loud House - 5 years later

But love built this family. And maybe love is what will hold it together.

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Chapter Summary: we talk to the kids

w/c: 6.6k

Note: We're all adults here, right? 😉

You were on a redemption tour of sorts.

You wanted to be intentional with your family again. You needed to be.

Your kids were growing right before your eyes, and while you’d always been active and involved, that wasn’t necessarily what they appreciated most from you. Not really. Quality time had always been the thing that kept your family close. It was how you stayed in the know.

You’d always silently judged parents who didn’t know their teenager’s favorite music, best friend, or what they were nervous about lately. You’d scoff at the fathers at the firm who bragged about only paying a couple of hundred dollars in child support, like it was a badge of honor instead of embarrassment.

You weren’t that type of parent.

You never would be.

Today was about Paige.

Charlie had bragged endlessly about the basket she got when she first got her period. It had become somewhat of a tradition after Cara. But for Paige, you knew a basket alone wouldn’t really do it.

Which was how the two of you ended up at Off The Record, a small mom-and-pop record store tucked into the city, smelling of old paper sleeves and incense.

Paige was your youngest girl and, unsurprisingly, the most detached in a way. Independent. Reliable. Sometimes, too much so for a child who was only nine going on ten.

Sometimes you missed when she used to cling to your leg every waking second, wanting nothing except to be wherever you were.

Now she wandered.

Browsed.

Built little pieces of herself privately.

You looked over at her now as she stood at the counter, seriously explaining to the cashier what kind of music she liked while flipping through stacks of CDs. Paige was taller now. Long-legged and expressive with her hands when she got excited. Her hair was pulled into two pigtails that bounced every time she turned her head.

“…and my sister says Lauryn Hill changed her life,” Paige informed the poor cashier with complete seriousness. “So I probably need to hear that too.”

You smiled to yourself before looking away quickly, suddenly overwhelmed by how fast all of this was happening.

“Mom,” she called suddenly. “I’ve never listened to a full Mariah Carey album before, have I?”

“We’ve listened to some singles, but never a full album, no,” you shook your head.

Paige gasped softly like this was a genuine parental failure.

“So can I get that too?” she looked up at you with wide puppy eyes. “And maybe Taylor Swift? Oh, and Beyoncé. I’m old enough for her music now, right?”

“I’d say no, but I won’t deny you the queen,” you leaned down to kiss the top of her head.

Paige grinned triumphantly before immediately turning back toward the shelves.

“How much is all this going to cost me?” you muttered, finally glancing down at the price tag on a Michael Jackson Off the Wall vinyl nearby.

Your eyes widened. “Forty dollars for one record?”

Paige blinked innocently beside you. “You said whatever I wanted.”

“I always tend to eat my own words.” You mumbled.

“You’re the best mom ever,” She bounced on her toes.

You snorted softly under your breath, shaking your head as she carefully pulled another vinyl from the rack. Watching her here, excited, curious, growing into her own little person with opinions and taste and favorites, made something ache warmly in your chest.

This was what you’d been missing.

The next stop was a boba tea shop. Boba was her new obsession, and though you weren’t a big fan, you wanted to indulge her. Paige amazed you in more ways than one. She and Charlie were little fashionistas in their own ways. While Charlie was more New York chic, Paige, meanwhile, took a softer approach. Vintage denim jackets. Colorful sneakers. Hair clips shaped like stars and butterflies. Though the purse she carried was no doubt her older sister’s. You wondered if Charlie even knew.

You watched her now as she carefully stirred her drink with concentration, brows pinched.

“What?” She looked up immediately, catching you staring.

“Nothing,” you smiled into your own drink. “You’re just getting big.”

Paige groaned dramatically. “You say that every five minutes now.”

“Because every five minutes you grow another inch.”

“That’s not scientifically possible.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” she slurped loudly from her straw. “I’m literally in advanced science.”

You laughed softly, leaning back into the booth.

Outside the window, people passed by without much thought, the city moving around the two of you like always. But for once, you didn’t feel rushed to catch up to it. Cincinnati was supposed to be slower than New York. It was supposed to be your break from the big life you left behind.

Paige reached into the record bag again, peeking down at her choices for what had to be the tenth time already.

“You know,” she said thoughtfully, “I think this is my favorite day we’ve had in a while.”

“Yeah,” You nodded. “Me too.”

Paige seemed to blush, then hid her curiosity by taking another sip of her drink.

“You want to ask something?” You guessed. She seemed a bit surprised, but then rolled her eyes at herself. You’re her mom, of course, you could tell.

“Do I look like her?” Paige asked, kicking her feet under the table. “My mommy. My birth mommy. Karen.” She felt the need to clarify. “Halmeoni always says I do, but I don’t know.”

You knew how important it was to answer truthfully. “Yes. You do.” You try to hide the sadness still in your voice. Thinking bout your best friend always brought a sense of melancholy. “You have her eyes, “ you continued. “Especially when you’re annoyed.”

Paige snorted softly.

“And your smile,” you added after a moment. A smile of your own spread wide across your face. “That little crooked thing you do when you’re trying not to laugh? That’s all her.”

Paige looked down into her drink, strangely shy now.

“She was really pretty,” she mumbled. “I mean, from all the pictures I have and the videos.”

“She was,” you agreed instantly. “And loud. And dramatic. Like someone else I know.”

That earned you a laugh.

“She sounds fun.”

“She was,” you smiled softly. “She loved really hard, too. Especially you.”

The smile on Paige’s face faded into something smaller. More thoughtful.

“You think she’d like me?” she asked quietly.

Your chest tightened so fast it almost hurt.

“Paige,” you reached across the table for her hand. “She would’ve been obsessed with you. She was obsessed with you. ”

Paige blinked quickly after that, looking away toward the window before you could fully catch her expression.

“And she didn’t die because she gave birth to me?” She asked. That question practically knocked the wind out of you. What was it with your kids and asking incredibly hard questions at random times?

But Paige was getting older now. Of course, the questions were changing too.

You squeezed her hand gently before answering.

“No, baby,” you said carefully. “No.”

Paige looked back at you immediately, searching your face to see if you were telling the truth or just trying to protect her feelings.

“Your mom got very sick after you were born,” you explained quietly. “And the doctors missed some things they shouldn’t have.”

Even now, years later, anger still flashed low in your chest when you thought about it too long.

“But you are not the reason she died.”

Paige’s eyes dropped again.

“Not even a little?”

“Not even a little,” you repeated firmly.

The boba straw bent between her fingers as she messed with it absentmindedly.

“I think about it sometimes,” she admitted. “Like… if she didn’t have me, she’d still be alive.”

You got up from your side of the booth before you could think twice about it, sliding in beside her instead.

“Oh, Paige,” you pulled her into your side immediately. “Listen to me.”

She curled into you without resistance, suddenly looking much younger than she had when walking through the record store earlier.

“Your life was never something bad that happened to her,” you murmured into her hair. “You were the best thing that happened to her. To all of us.”

Paige stayed quiet after that, small against your side as the city moved outside the window beside you.

“You really mean that?” she whispered eventually.

“With everything in me,” you answered.

“Sorry for making this sad,” She said. “I know that’s not how you want to spend your time off work.”

Your face softened immediately.

“Hey,” you reached up to move one of her pigtails from where it had fallen into her face. “This isn’t sad to me.”

She looked unconvinced.

“It’s important,” you corrected gently. “There’s a difference.”

Paige picked at her straw. “I just don’t want you getting tired of me asking about her all the time. We don’t talk about her a lot anymore.”

“Oh, baby.” You pulled her closer again without hesitation. “I will talk about Karen with you for the rest of my life if that’s what you need.”

That seemed to hit her harder than expected. She blinked quickly, trying to keep herself together in the way your kids always did when emotions caught them off guard.

“You know what your mom used to say when she was pregnant with you?” you asked softly.

Paige shook her head against your shoulder.

“She said she hoped you’d be stubborn enough to survive this family.”

A tiny laugh escaped Paige before she could stop it.

“And look at you,” you kissed the top of her head. “Bossing me around in record stores and spending all my money.”

“I’m glad you and Mama aren’t getting divorced,” She admitted. “We were really scared.”

“Me too,” you confessed. “Your Mama and I love each other and you guys too much.”

“Good,” Paige said. “Sometimes I miss it. Like when we first got here, and Cara was home. We would do all these things together.”

“Well, your birthday is next week, and I have it on record that we will all be together.” You promised. “Mama and I will try to make an effort to keep those family things going. Movie nights. Dinners. All those board games we have are collecting dust.”

“And Charlie hates me sometimes,”

You sighed softly through your nose.

“Yeah, I heard about that,” You nodded. “I’m not too happy with how that’s going between you two. I thought we solved it.”

“I guess,” Paige shrugged. “She acts like she doesn’t even want to be my sister sometimes.”

“You sound just like her with Cara,”

Paige’s face twisted immediately. “That’s different.”

“It’s really not.”

She groaned, already knowing where this was going.

“You and Charlie are a lot alike,” you continued. “Too alike sometimes. And when sisters start growing into different versions of themselves, there’s usually some bumping around.”

“She’s quitting ballet,” Paige frowned. “That’s something we always did together. I mean, I even joined because I wanted to be like her.”

You smiled at that. You remember Charlie being so excited to take her younger sister to school.

Paige pushed her drink away. “She’s changing,” she admitted quietly. “Everybody is.”

The honesty of it sat between you. You reached over, smoothing your hand over the top of her hair.

“Baby,” you said softly, “your sister growing up doesn’t mean she’s growing away from you.”

Paige looked unconvinced. “But things are different.”

“Yeah,” you nodded honestly. “They are.”

You looked out the window for a second before continuing.

“When Cara left for college, Charlie cried in her room for two days straight.”

Paige blinked. “Seriously?”

“She made Natasha drive her to campus three separate times in one month because she ‘forgot something.’”

“I did forget things,” Charlie had insisted every single time.

Paige smiled at the memory.

“Families change,” you continued quietly. “People get older. Interests change. Schedules change. But that doesn’t mean the love leaves with it.”

Paige rested her cheek against your shoulder then, quieter now.

“I don’t like it.”

“I know,” you kissed the top of her head. “Me neither sometimes. Neither do your siblings. But we’re working on it. Hey, ask her to help you with last minute things about your party. I bet she’ll answer.”

“That’s a good idea,” Paige nodded. “Can we go to one more place? The bakery on Scott?”

“Sure, we have time.”

“Great, I have ideas.” She said. You wondered what she was cooking up.

—-----

It was a great day to be outside. For Natasha, this meant sitting on the sidelines, watching as Luke and James attempted to teach Max and Midnight new tricks. She sat stretched across one of the patio chairs with her bare feet tucked under her, a pen balanced between her teeth, and her yoga manuals spread out before her. Every few minutes, she would underline something, scribble in the margins, and then glance back out at the yard.

“No, no, you have to say it with authority,” James snapped his fingers so Midnight would sit.

“Midnight,” Luke squared his shoulders. He deepened his voice and said, “Roll over.”

The dog barked once and sprinted off in the opposite direction.

Natasha smiled into her book. They’d be at this a little while longer.

The backdoor slid open behind her. Yelena stepped out carrying a bottle of water and one of Natasha’s protein bars she definitely hadn’t asked permission to take.

“You know,” she said as she settled into the chair beside her, “watching you become suburban has been one of the strangest experiences of my life.”

Natasha didn’t look up from her notes. “You say that every time you visit.”

“And every time it becomes more true.” Yelena gestured vaguely toward the yard. “You’re outside annotating yoga books while children train rescue dogs. You used to fall asleep in vents.”

“I’ve never fallen asleep in a vent,” Natasha scoffed.

“Twice you did,” Yelena shrugged. “Once in Venice.”

“You and I remember that differently,” Natasha flipped through another page. “How long are you here for again?”

“Until Kate is done visiting with the Bartons,” Yelena tore open the packaging of the bar. She bit into it, her nose scrunching at the taste. “Tastes like chocolate chalk and ass.” She dropped it onto the table between them.

“You would know what that tastes like,” Natasha muttered without missing a beat.

“You’re so funny,” She rolled her eyes. “So,” She said casually. “I can’t help but notice your wife is not home,” Yelena looked around the yard. The boys were playing some kind of game of tug-of-war with the dogs and James’ t-shirt. “Again.”

“She’s with Paige,” Natasha closed the book against her knee. She looked at Yelena fully.

“Funny, I didn’t see her kiss you goodbye this morning,” She said.

“Why don’t you come out and say what you really want to know?” Natasha raised a brow.

“No, ice cream together. No disgusting cuddling on the couch,” Yelena began to list off. “No displays of affection that make me want to hurl. I would say your marriage is in trouble.”

“You’d make a wonderful spy,” Natasha shook her head. She looked back into her chair. “My marriage is not in trouble.”

“But it’s not like normal? Tell me I’m wrong,” Yelena threw up her hands.

“You’re not wrong,” Natasha sighed. “We’ve become disconnected. But we’re trying. Actually, we were supposed to have this talk with you together.”

Yelena narrowed her eyes. “You think I couldn’t handle the truth.”

“I think you’re our child by proxy at this point,” Natasha shrugged. “You tend to dig your nose into our marriage anyway.”

"Hey, it's traumatic when you two stop flirting? The whole house becomes cold.”

Natasha laughed despite herself, shaking her head.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I am serious,” Yelena pointed at her. “You and Y/n are like… weirdly in love. It’s unsettling. So when that disappears everybody notices.”

That quieted Natasha a little. Her eyes drifted back toward the yard where Luke had now wrapped himself around Max like a backpack while James argued with him about “proper dog training techniques.

“It didn’t disappear,” Her voice was even softer now. “At least that’s what I keep telling myself. She’s been busy with work.” “So, it’s her fault?” Yelena tilted her head.

“No,” Natasha denied. She fiddled with her hands. Very uncharacteristic. “I think it’s been building up for a while. Starting with me after that mission.”

“That was five years ago?”

“She mentioned it in an argument,” Natasha nodded. “I mean, would you really expect your wife to get over saying you wanted to abandon her and the kids? Especially without telling them?”

“You did that?” Yelena gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

“I almost did,” Natasha said. “I wasn’t in the right headspace after that mission. Wanda had to step in and find me, but…there’s a reason I don’t like magic.” “But why didn’t you want to come home?”

“I didn’t feel like me anymore,” she admitted finally. Her fingers twisted together again. “And when I looked at them…” she swallowed. “I loved them so much it scared me.”

Yelena’s face softened immediately.

“I thought if I came home like that,” Natasha continued quietly, “I’d ruin everything.”

“But you still stayed,” Yelena pointed out gently.

Natasha looked back toward the house. Toward the kitchen windows. Toward the life inside it.

“Yeah,” she said after a moment.

A small, almost disbelieving smile crossed her face. “Because apparently I love my wife more than my own self-destruction.”

“And this now is payback?” “I think it was an indicator we needed counseling together,” Natasha breathed. “We still made time. We still had our moments, but we both got too busy. Too wrapped up in emotions and jobs and the kids.”

Yelena leaned further back in her chair, staring up at the sky dramatically. “This is all way too mature for me,” she declared. “I liked it better when relationship problems were just somebody cheating or getting arrested.”

Natasha snorted softly. “You’re thirty-four.”

“And still emotionally nineteen.”

“That explains a lot, actually.”

Yelena ignored her. “I just…” she sighed, glancing over again. “You two have always felt permanent to me.”

“You know what the weird part is?” Natasha asked after a moment.

“What?”

“I don’t think either of us realized how bad it got until we stopped touching each other.”

“No more couch cuddling?” Yelena grimaced. “Tragic.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, but there was no real bite behind it this time. “I’m serious,” she murmured. “We stopped reaching for each other.”

“When’s the last time you had sex?” Yelena asked. “Wait, too mature, again. Don’t tell me.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Natasha laughed. Her sister was genuinely unbelievable at times. Though in her own head, she probably couldn’t tell her a date. There was still work to do. “I met this widow,” she changed the subject. “She has a kid, and she wants me to help her meet the kid.”

“Why you?”

“I asked the same thing…” Natasha exclaimed. She was happy for the topic change.

—-----

Paige stood right next to Charlie’s bedroom door for a long moment before finally knocking. She could hear music permeating through the door. It was slow and calm.

“What?” Charlie called through the door.

“It’s me,” Paige answered.

“Go away,” Charlie said.

Paige rolled her eyes. Typical. “I have something for you.”

“What kind of something?”

“Open the door and see,” Paige knocked again. “I’m going to drop it.”

The door finally cracked open just enough for one suspicious eye to peek through. Charlie’s curls were piled messily on top of her head and she was sporting black eye liner and mascara.

“You’re annoying,” she mumbled.

“And yet you opened the door.”

Charlie sighed dramatically before opening it wider. Paige stepped inside, balancing a box of macarons and two cups of matcha from the bakery.

“I picked these up when I went out with mom,” Paige set them on the desk. “These are your favorite right?”

“They are,” Charlie’s eyes lit up. “So, did you do the whole period basket thing.”

“I got vinyls,” Paige shrugged, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Wait, that’s way cooler,” Charlie gasped.

“I know,” Paige grinned.

“I still think it’s weird you kept it a secret from everyone,” Charlie bit into a macaron with a frown.

“It wasn’t really a secret,” Paige tilted her chin defensively.

“Then what was it?” she asked. “I mean… weren’t you scared?”

Paige was quiet for a second longer than expected.

“A little,” she admitted eventually. “But mostly I just didn’t want everybody acting weird around me. I already knew what to do.”

“But you didn't come to me,” Charlie looked over at her. “We tell each other that stuff.”

“I don’t know,” Paige shrugged again. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh, okay,” Charlie let her have it. “Is that the only reason you came in here?”

“No,” Paige took another macaron for herself. “I wanted to talk about my birthday party. I was wondering if you could help me dye my hair.”

“You’re going to dye your hair?” Charlie’s mouth dropped. “Dude, moms will kill us both. You’re turning ten, not sixteen.”

“It wouldn’t be permanent or, like, my whole head,” Paige defended quickly. “Just maybe the front pieces. Or underneath.”

Charlie stared at her for another second before narrowing her eyes thoughtfully.

“…What color?”

Paige grinned immediately, knowing she’d won her over a little. “Maybe dark red?”

“Oh, that would eat,” Charlie admitted before catching herself. “Wait. No. I’m supposed to be responsible.”

“You literally have a Pinterest board called hair inspo.”

“That is private information.”

Paige laughed into her drink.

Charlie watched her for a second after that. Really watched her.

“You’re getting big,” she mumbled.

Paige groaned loudly. “You sound like Mom.”

“Well, you are.” Charlie reached over, absentmindedly fixing one of Paige’s pigtails where it had started coming loose. “It’s weird.”

“You’re weird.”

“True.”

“Maybe we could do a little trim too. I’m good with scissors,” Charlie pretended to search for them.

“No way,” Paige shook her head.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” Charlie said. “But we have to ask Moms. I’m not getting grounded over this.”

“Fine,”

—----------------- —-----------------

The first thing Natasha noticed when she stepped into your shared shower was the delicate gold anklet wrapped around your left ankle. Tiny little charms glittered against damp skin every time the water hit it. It was new, and she wanted to question where you got it from, but it seemed unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

You were carefully scrubbing around it as you hummed softly to yourself, completely unaware she’d followed you in.

For a second, Natasha just watched.

The steam curled around you, your braids pinned messily up away from your face, one of her oversized shirts abandoned somewhere on the bathroom floor outside the glass doors.

“Can I join you?” She asked, finally.

You jumped slightly, hand flying to your chest as she stepped inside anyway.

“Natasha!” you laughed breathlessly. “You scared me.”

“Mhm.” Her hands settled automatically at your waist once she was close enough. “That was the goal.” She didn’t mind the hot water splashing against her back.

You rolled your eyes, though the smile stayed as warm water splashed against both of you now.

Natasha’s eyes drifted downward again.

“When did you get this?” she asked quietly, kneeling so that her thumb brushed against the anklet.

You looked down like you’d forgotten it was there.

“Oh,” you smiled softly. “A few weeks ago. I picked it out when I went shopping.”

Natasha hummed at that, still tracing absent patterns against your ankle underwater.

You tilted your head slightly at her silence.

“What?” you asked softly.

Natasha just shook her head once before leaning down to kiss your calf.

“Nothing,” she murmured against damp skin. “You’re just pretty.”

“Just pretty?” You pulled her into your arms. The steam made your cheeks flush, or maybe it was the look in her eyes, or the feel of her bare skin against yours. “Nat, you’ve called me a lot of things over the years. Just pretty feels like an insult.”

A slow smile spread across her face. She reached up, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Alright then. You’re devastatingly beautiful. You’re the kind of beautiful that makes people forget their own names. Better?”

You pretended to consider it, tapping a finger against your lip. “Hmm. Getting warmer.”

Natasha laughed, a real, unrestrained laugh that echoed off the glass walls. She pulled you closer, water streaming between your bodies. “Fine. You’re so beautiful it physically hurts me sometimes. There. Are we done rating my compliments now?”

“Depends,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss her jawline. “Are you trying to get lucky?" It sounded sexier in your head, and you both knew it, sharing a smile between the two of you. "It's been too long."

"Eight months," She said, closing her eyes after a particularly hard nip at her throat. "But who's counting?"

"Is that why you came in here?" You questioned. "To talk about my anklet and how pretty I am?"

"No. I came in here to see how long it would take to get you on your knees." Her response was quick, and you shivered despite the steam.

"It's a shame. You beat me to it." You whispered.

The water continued its steady rhythm against your skin, but Natasha’s focus was solely on the way your body moved against hers. She let out a shaky breath as your fingers traced the line of her collarbone, down between her breasts.

She bit her lip. This was what she had been wanting for so long. "I need..." The redhead started.

"I know, baby," you murmured against her skin. "I know."

Her hands tangled in your braids, gently guiding you back to her lips. The kiss started slow, a gentle exploration, but it quickly deepened into something more desperate. Months of unspoken tension, of carefully maintained distance, melted away under the hot spray of the shower.

Your hands roamed her body with a confidence that made her tremble. You knew every sensitive spot, every place that made her gasp into your mouth. When your thumb brushed against her nipple, toying with the jewelry piercing both ends, she arched into your touch with a soft cry.

"I've missed this," she whispered against your lips. "I've missed you. I wanted it to be more special for us. Dinner. Candles." Her speech was broken by pants as your other hand traveled lower, tracing patterns on her stomach.

"We can have dinner tomorrow," you murmured, nipping at her earlobe. "Or I could make you wait."

"You could," She nodded. "I came in here to be with you. Not for sex."

"Hmm," You nodded. Natasha pulled back slightly, her green eyes dark with desire and something deeper. That unwavering devotion that had defined your relationship from the beginning. She watched you for a moment, her expression uncharacteristically vulnerable.

"You still want me, right? Even after everything? After my stupid pride and the distance and..." Her words faltered as your fingers continued their torturously slow descent.

"Every day," you said simply, and it was the truest thing you had ever spoken. "Even when I was angry with you, I still wanted you."

That was all the encouragement she needed. Natasha surged forward, pressing you against the tiled wall of the shower as the water cascaded over both of you. Her kisses grew more demanding, her hands exploring every curve of your body.

"I love you," she gasped between kisses. "I never stopped. Not for a second."

Your response was lost in a moan as her teeth found your shoulder, biting gently before soothing the skin with her tongue. Your fingers finally reached where she wanted them most, and Natasha's knees nearly buckled at the contact.

You found her clit with ease, circling slowly at first, building tension with each pass. Natasha's head fell back against the tiles, water streaming down her face and neck as she surrendered to the pleasure you were giving her.

"Fuck," she whispered.

The water began to cool as you brought her closer to the edge. Your other hand came up to cup her breast, thumb and forefinger rolling her pierced nipple between them. Natasha's hands gripped your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin as her hips began to move against your hand.

"Look at me," You commanded softly.

Natasha's eyes fluttered open, locking with yours. The intensity of her gaze nearly undid you. In that moment, there was no distance, no months of separation, no stubborn pride. There were only the two of you.

"I love you too," you murmured, and with those words, you increased the pressure, your fingers moving faster as she cried out your name.

Her orgasm crashed over her like a wave, her body trembling against yours as she gasped for breath. You held her through it, your movements gentling as she came down from her high.

Natasha slumped against you, her face buried in the crook of your neck as her breathing gradually returned to normal.

"Wow," she finally managed, a weak laugh escaping her lips. "Just... wow."

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder. "Yeah."

The water was definitely cold now, but neither of you seemed to notice or care.

"I came in here innocently at first," She spoke against your skin. "Just wanted to be with you."

"I know, Tasha," You kissed the top of her head. "Get out. I'll be there in a minute."

She pulled back reluctantly, her eyes searching yours. "Don't be long."

"I won't."

As Natasha stepped out of the shower, you watched her grab a towel, her movements slightly unsteady. She caught your eye before wrapping the towel around herself, and the look she gave you was full of promise for what the rest of the night might hold.

You finished washing up quickly, your mind racing. Eight months. Eight months of distance, of carefully constructed schedules, of avoiding the one person you needed most. And all it took to break through everything was one innocent question about an anklet.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped securely around your body, you found Natasha perched on the edge of the bed. She hadn't bothered dressing, just holding the towel around herself as she watched you approach.

"I was thinking," she said as you stopped in front of her.

"About?" You asked, reaching out to tuck a strand of damp hair behind her ear. You stood between her legs, caressing her face.

"About how long it's been since we had a vacation," She said, tracing the back of your thigh with the tip of her fingers.

"Hmm."

"I booked us something for the week after Paige's birthday. Paris."

Your eyes widened. "Natasha—"

"Don't," She interrupted. "No excuses. Just say yes."

You studied her face, seeing the determination in her green eyes. "What about the kids"

"My parents can handle things for a week," She said dismissively. "And I've already cleared it with Yelena to help."

You laughed softly. "Of course you have."

"So?" Her fingers stilled on your leg. "Is that a yes?"

You leaned down, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. "Yes," you whispered against her mouth. "That's a yes."

Natasha's relief was palpable, her whole body relaxing as she deepened the kiss. When you finally pulled apart, she was smiling, a real, genuine smile that reached her eyes.

"I was worried you'd say no," she admitted.

"After what just happened in the shower?" You teased. "I'd say yes to just about anything you asked right now."

Her grin widened. "Good to know. You don't think it was too soon?"

"I think it was too quick," You clarified at her eyebrow arch. "I meant I want us to have the opportunity to go all night." You lowered your head to her neck. "Too soon isn't a thing for us after almost two decades in. That's our problem, we're working off what we think should happen or schedules and everything else. If I wanted to eat your pussy in the parking garage of the therapist's office, I would." You paused. "Don't get any ideas."

She laughed. "Noted. No parking garage cunnilingus." Her hands slid up your back, tracing the line of your spine. "But the bed is fair game?"

You hummed, leaning in to nip at her jawline. "The bed is very fair game."

Natasha's response was to capture your lips again, this kiss deeper, more demanding. Her hands roamed your body, mapping familiar territory. You responded in kind, your own hands exploring as you slowly backed her toward the center of the bed.

When the back of her knees hit the mattress again, Natasha fell back with a soft gasp, pulling you down with her. The towels between you felt like an unnecessary barrier, and she wasted no time in remedying that. She flipped the two of you, effectively pinning you.

"Much better," she murmured against your skin as she finally got you naked beneath her.

You laughed, arching into her touch as her mouth found your throat. "I agree."

Natasha took her time rediscovering your body, her lips and hands tracing every curve, every dip, every scar she already knew by heart. It was both familiar and new, like coming home after a long absence.

When her mouth finally closed around your nipple, you gasped, your fingers tangling in her damp hair. She teased with practiced skill, knowing exactly how to drive you wild with minimal effort.

"Natasha," you breathed, your hips rising to meet hers.

She lifted her head, her green eyes dark with desire. "I want to taste you," she said, her voice husky with need.

Instead of waiting for a response, she began her descent, pressing kisses along your stomach, dipping her tongue into your navel, smiling against your skin when you squirmed. By the time she settled between your thighs, you were already panting with anticipation.

She paused, looking up at you from between your legs. The intensity in her gaze made your breath catch.

"You're so beautiful," she whispered, and this time, the compliment felt like a revelation.

Then she leaned in, and all coherent thought ceased to exist.

The first stroke of her tongue against your clit sent a jolt of electricity through your body. Eight months of pent-up desire melted away in an instant. Natasha had always known exactly how to touch you, how to read your responses, how to push you to the brink and then pull you back, drawing out the pleasure until you were begging for release.

"Babe, we didn't lock the door." You didn't even know why the thought crossed your mind when she was tongue deep inside you.

"Then I'd guess you better be quiet so the kids don't come in," She mumbled without breaking her rhythm.

You rolled your eyes at her cockiness but didn't protest again, lost in the sensation of her tongue exploring your folds. Your hands found her hair again, guiding her as she built a rhythm that had your hips moving against her face.

When she added two fingers, curling them perfectly to hit that spot deep inside, you couldn't suppress the cry that escaped your lips. Natasha smirked against you, clearly pleased with herself as she increased her pace, her tongue working in tandem with her fingers to push you higher and higher.

The tension coiled in your stomach, tighter and tighter, until finally it snapped, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. Your back arched off the bed as you called out her name, your fingers tightening in her hair as your body convulsed with the force of your orgasm.

Natasha stayed with you through it all, her movements gentling as you came down from your high. When your breathing finally returned to normal, she placed one final kiss on your sensitive flesh before crawling back up to lie beside you.

You turned to face her, a lazy smile playing on your lips. "Wow," you whispered, echoing her earlier sentiment.

She chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "I thought we could be spontaneous for a change."

"So you came in from your little yoga reading session and thought, damn, I wanna fuck my wife?" You teased.

"Not exactly," She rolled onto her side to fully face you. "I wanted to talk to you about the trip, and then I saw your tits." She shrugged.

You let out a laugh, the sound filling the quiet room. "Always so romantic, Romanoff."

Natasha's smile softened, her fingers tracing patterns on your arm. "I want you again," she admitted quietly. "If you're up for it."

You raised an eyebrow. "Already?"

"It's been eight months," she reminded you. "I have a lot of lost time to make up for."

The thought of another round sent a fresh wave of desire through you. You leaned in, capturing her lips in a deep kiss, tasting yourself on her tongue. "I'm always up for anything with you," you murmured against her lips.

Natasha responded by deepening the kiss, her body pressing closer to yours as one of her hands slid down to cup your breast, thumb circling your nipple until it hardened under her touch. You arched into her, wanting more, needing more.

When her other hand slipped between your legs, you gasped into her mouth. She wasted no time, finding you already wet and ready for her. Her fingers explored with familiar confidence, stroking, teasing, building that fire in your belly all over again.

"I missed this," she whispered, her lips trailing along your jawline. "I missed being inside you."

"Then stop talking," you breathed, hooking your leg over her hip to give her better access. "And fuck me."

Natasha's response was to enter you with two fingers, slow and deliberate, drawing a moan from your lips. She set a languid pace at first, her thumb finding your clit as she moved within you. The familiar stretch, the perfect angle, it all came rushing back like second nature.

You met her gaze, seeing the raw emotion in her green eyes. Eight months of distance, of carefully maintaining space, all melting away with each thrust of her fingers. You reached up, caressing her face.

"I love you," you whispered, the words coming easily now.

"I love you too," she replied, her movements gaining speed as her own arousal grew. "So much."

You could feel her need pressing against your thigh, and it spurred you on. You rolled your hips, meeting each thrust, encouraging her to take you harder, faster. Natasha obliged, her fingers moving deeper, her thumb working your clit with skilled precision.

The second orgasm built more slowly but was no less intense. When it finally washed over you, you cried out her name, your body trembling with release. Natasha didn't stop, continuing to move within you, drawing out your pleasure until you were completely spent.

Only then did she withdraw, gathering you in her arms as you both caught your breath. The room was quiet except for your ragged breathing, the cool air from the open window doing little to cool your heated skin.

"I think we're going to need two weeks in Paris," you finally spoke.

-------> next part

#redroomreflections #series tag #c: natasha romanoff #black!reader #appreciation reblog

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