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egcdeath · 1 year

Text

clean sheet

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: nothing stirs the pot like your ex-husband, gossipy soccer moms, and a weekend-long soccer tournament. (part two of spectator sport)

word count: 7.7k

warnings: canon divergent: no apocalypse, implied past emotional abuse, jealousy/misunderstanding, kinda angsty in the beginning but verrrry fluffy at the end, insecurities, there was only one bed, mutual pining, sarah and chloe being menaces as usual

author’s note: this past week has been extremely rough. like, ao3 author’s note apologizing for being gone rough, so i’m just as surprised as you are that i was able to write 7,000 words of a part two to spectator sport. enjoy!

part 3 / series masterlist

Tournament season was nothing short of an absolute pain in the ass. It was a pain in the ass when you were married and able to evenly split your responsibilities, and it’s even more of a pain in the ass now that your ex-husband has decided to participate minimally in all soccer related ventures.

To be completely honest, it seemed like it wasn’t just soccer ventures your ex wasn’t too enthused to partake in, as Nathan had ditched most of his fatherly duties whenever a new, younger girlfriend was in the picture. But that was neither here nor there.

Despite Nathan taking Chloe to her past few games this season—you were completely swamped with work and you had practically gotten on your knees and begged for him to take her to them—he didn’t seem to have any interest in assisting you with tournaments.

That was fine and good. You knew about the events far enough in advance to move some meetings around, block off some time, and cross your fingers and hope that nothing came up unexpectedly in the days prior to your game. Although, what you couldn’t account for was your car completely breaking down on your way back from a bagel shop the morning before you were meant to be on the road for the next three hours.

But alas, the universe had its way of kicking you when you were already down, leaving you biting back tears in the passenger seat of a tow truck as you attempted to figure out a Plan B.

“Please, Nathaniel,” you pleaded over the phone, pacing back and forth in your bedroom as you tried your absolute best to hold the last bits of your composure together.

“I’ve been at her last three games,” it was impossible to miss the sneer in his voice as if his own daughter was the biggest burden in the world. “And where have you been? It’s practically been a month.”

“Where have I been?” you laughed out of anger and at the absurdity of his words. You knew that he knew for a fact that you’d been drowning in work. “Nathaniel. You know how my work has been. Please just do this one thing for your child. It’s the fucking weekend. It’s not like you’re doing anything else.”

“It’s always work with you. You know, this is why I couldn’t be with you anymore. You were always so selfish with your time and inconsiderate with mine,” he sighed dismissively. “And for the record, Claire and I have a reservation tonight. So I am doing something else.”

It was staggering how minimized and powerless he made you feel after every interaction despite how little he actually was in your life. Every time you interacted with the man you thanked whatever forces out there that you somehow found it in yourself to leave.

You huffed and blinked away tears, hugging yourself to attempt to bring yourself some sort of comfort. After signing the papers, you told yourself you would never waste one single tear on the man again. You wouldn’t let a little argument like this change that promise.

“Can I at least borrow your car?” you sounded so meek and desperate, but you were running out of options, and with every passing minute you had less and less options.

Instead of responding, Nathan simply laughed at you before ending the call. Humiliated didn’t even begin to cover how you felt about the whole situation.

You angrily wiped away the hot tears that had slipped down your face without your permission and sighed as you evaluated what options you had left. You could take an Uber, but it would be ridiculously expensive. You could rent a car, but Chloe was bound to get stains and dirt tracked throughout the vehicle. Anything else was far too short notice.

You flopped down onto your bed and screamed into your pillow. The stress from your overfilled work week combined with an extremely inconvenient situation was taking its toll on you, but you needed to figure something out.

Maybe you could carpool with someone. Although, you weren’t sure who was still in town, as most of the families liked to leave at the ass crack of dawn. If that wasn’t enough, you weren’t exactly sure you wanted to sit in a small contained space with some of those families for a prolonged period of time.

Maybe you could ‘borrow’ Nathan’s car regardless of what he said. You were sure his new girlfriend had a car–if she was even old enough to drive one–and they could certainly take that car to their ever-important reservation tonight. Although, maybe getting a grand theft auto charge in order to make it to a soccer tournament wasn't your greatest idea.

You were deep in the eye of a brainstorm when a soft little knock rapped against your door, seconds before Chloe peeked her head in.

“Hi mom,” she greeted, completely unaware of the extent of your conundrum. “Sarah can’t find her cleats and wanted to know if she could borrow one of mine. Where do you keep my old ones?”

Joel.

Oh shit, Joel.

Joel who you’d accidentally ghosted after the promise of a date. With work and ex-spousal drama, you hadn’t even had a moment to think about the date. A knot tied in your stomach as you thought about how you’d treated him. He probably thought you were icing him out on purpose.

“They should be downstairs in the front closet under the coats,” you informed her. “You almost ready to go?”

“What does it look like?” she retorted sassily, doing a little spin for you to show off her full soccer attire.

“Alright,” you chuckled, trying to keep it together for just a while longer. “Go find those cleats.”

With that, she was off, and you were alone with just one option.

You dialed the number that you’d only texted once, and bit your lip as the phone rang out. The knot in your stomach tied and untied with each ring of the phone, nausea rattling you as you thought about all the ways he could answer. He’d probably be pissed that you were only reaching out to him now, only when you needed something from him. He’d probably tell you off, just like Nathan, and laugh at you over the phone over the mere prospect of hitching a ride with him.

After three rings, Joel finally picked up, saying your name aloud, as if he was genuinely surprised to be hearing from you.

“Joel, I’m so sorry,” you took a deep breath and attempted to hold back the wave of emotions coming over you. This stupid stressful morning. This stupid stressful month. And stupid you for leaving a good man waiting for you. A good man who was probably moments away from becoming a bad man, like every other one that seemed to appear in your life.

“My car broke down this morning and I don’t have any other way to get to the tournament. Is there any way we can carpool? I’ll literally pay you to take us. I’ll drive Sarah to school for the rest of the school year. Hell, I’ll take her to games too. Just… please.” It felt like you were talking a million miles a minute.

“Hey, take a breath,” he said, clearly picking up on the frantic energy you were radiating through the phone. “We’re heading out in about twenty minutes. We’ll swing by your place. And don’t worry about all that other stuff, okay? Just take a big breath. I’ll see you soon.”

You were flooded with relief as you spoke your gratitude and hung up. It almost felt odd to not have someone go off on you for waiting so last minute to reach out for help, or for not reaching out to them after you said that you would. You were puzzled, and not completely sure what you did to deserve someone like Joel in your life, but you were grateful to have him regardless. Especially now that he was coming to save the day.

Sure enough, around twenty minutes later, a pickup truck arrived in front of your house, and Chloe was sprinting to go sit with her friend in the backseat, still overjoyed from the news that she would be traveling with her friend.

Timidly, you entered the car, still anticipating a stern lecture or even a scolding for being a shitty mom, and an even worse potential partner. “I really can’t thank you enough for this, Joel,” you expressed before he had the chance to speak, hoping that if you expressed your gratitude before he had the chance to yell at you, the blow would be lessened. You kept your eyes down as you sat down and set your overnight bag in front of you.

“Of course. You know, I still owe you a favor after that dinner fiasco,” he glanced over at you and smiled, and some of that fear you had been holding onto began to melt away. Although, you blanched at the mention of the date that you were meant to go on, but hadn’t had the chance to do so. Yet, there didn’t seem to be any malice behind Joel’s words.

“I guess we’re even?” you offered, looking over at the man to attempt to read him as he slung his arm around the back of the headrest and looked through the rearview mirror as he pulled out.

“Yeah,” he said shortly, almost… dejectedly? Maybe you were reading into it too much. After all, his attention was split between you and getting out of your driveway safely.

Regardless of what anyone was feeling, your journey began with the girls in the back chatting amongst themselves and a slightly weighted silence between the two of you in the front while the sound of radio filled in for the lack of conversation between you and Joel.

You spent the majority of the ride looking out your window, deep in thought. You tried not to let Nathan get under your skin all that often, but maybe he was right about the way you spent your time. You’d practically thrown away your shot at any relationship with the man next to you, simply because you were too busy and forgot about a promise you’d made.

You tried to focus on the excited chatter in the seat behind you, and less on the venomous words Nathan had given you over the years, but it was a difficult task. Paired with the fact that you were still waiting for the shoe to drop and Joel to go off on you, it wasn’t the most pleasant time.

After about an hour of driving (and in your case, brooding), you had to make a stop at the gas station, as the truck was running low on fuel. You reached for your wallet and grabbed a twenty dollar bill, then passed it back to the girls behind you. “Go get some snacks for us?”

“Of course!” Chloe cheered, hopping out of the car and racing Sarah into the entrance of the gas station.

Joel was definitely going to go off on you now that the kids were gone. You held your breath as you got out of the car, leaning against the hood of the vehicle as Joel stood by the pump, his eyes fixed on his vehicle.

“I can’t tell you just how sorry I am. About not reaching out to you to go out sometime, and for having to ask you so last minute to take us to the tournament. I’ve just been absolutely swamped with work, and Natha-“

“You’re fine,” Joel cut you off as he acknowledged your apology, keeping his gaze trained on the car. Here it comes. “You don’t need to apologize. Sometimes life just throws a bunch of shit at us at once.”

You nodded in agreement, your breathing picking up as you waited for the condescension or lecture to begin. Yet… it never came. You weren’t sure if he was as upset as you suspected, but Joel was certainly feeling more than he was willing to let on. The lack of eye contact and his slightly off responses told you that much.

“Is everything okay?” you finally asked, trailing off. “You’ve barely said a word all trip.”

“Everything is fine. I’m just tired,” he rubbed his forehead with his hand.

“Well, if you’re tired, I can drive us the rest of the way over and you can sleep. That way you’ll be rested for the game,” you offered, taking a daring step towards him, and setting your hand on his bicep—a peace treaty of sorts. And maybe a hint that you were still interested in whatever sparks had been evident before.

Joel immediately stiffened under your touch, and subtly rejected the motion. He glanced over at you for just a moment before looking back down at the gas pump and shut his eyes. “That’d be great. I’m really exhausted.”

While you could believe that maybe Joel was just tired, there had to be more to the story. The way he rejected your subtle touch and the way he just couldn’t seem to meet your eyes told you that much. Perhaps you underestimated just how hurt he was by you not making plans with him, although it wasn’t like he’d reached out to you to set something up. In fact, the last time you heard from him was the night before the girls’ game following their team dinner.

“Of course. Go ahead and get back in the car, I can take everything from here.”

The rest of the ride wasn’t too long, but you were happy to contribute after asking for such a last minute favor. You drove straight to the grounds that the team was playing on that afternoon, as you were already pushing it on time, and certainly did not have time to go check into your hotel yet.

Your kids jogged off to greet their team and warm up with them, leaving you alone with Joel once again as you grabbed fold-out chairs from the back of his truck.

“You feeling any better now after sleeping?” you asked, turning to look at him and inspect his face for any suspicious expressions.

“Yeah, definitely,” he affirmed, but his words didn’t exactly match what it was you had observed. He closed his trunk and began to walk away, and you followed after him, feeling a bit like a lost puppy.

“Joel, really. You can tell me what’s wrong,” you practically pleaded, part of you still waiting for the moment he would tell you off.

“I already told you,” his tone was defensive, and when he turned back to look at you, the agitation was clearly painted on his face. “Nothing is wrong.”

You were taken aback, but understood that you had crossed some sort of boundary in your continuous pressing of what was wrong. You felt more like a kicked puppy than a lost one as you walked out to the fields behind Joel, setting your chair up close to him, but with a little more distance between the two of you than what you would have preferred.

You didn’t talk much during the game, outside of cheering for your daughters and momentarily celebrating when one of them pulled something impressive off.

Although you didn’t interact much, it still felt nice to be back at a game after being gone for the past few weeks. And honestly, it felt even more nice to be back in Joel’s presence after those weeks, even if it was clear that something had shifted between the two of you.

When the second game began, you were surprised to come back from your short leg-stretch walk to find another chair placed next to Joel’s—and a woman happily chatting his ear off.

A pang of jealousy struck your gut as you observed the two of them. It was no secret that most of the moms (and some of the dads) on the team (and other teams) saw the same things in Joel that you did. But you had absolutely no right to feel jealous, considering the way you’d basically led him on, and you had absolutely no reason to believe that there was anything romantic going on between them.

But you felt unwell anyway.

You urged yourself not to look at them for too long, instead focusing on the game in front of you, but the sounds of their voices and the way their conversation easily flowed was far too distracting. Just the rotten cherry on top of an already shitty day.

You felt ridiculous and childish sitting there with jealousy burning deeply in your stomach as you mentally ran through all of the things you could have done differently. Maybe if you’d texted Joel the night of your dinner and found a day where you both weren’t busy to go out together, or if you’d just said no to taking on a few extra hours, you’d be the one giggling and playing with your hair as you chatted up Joel.

It was official: you couldn’t torture yourself with staying one more moment with the two of them. Instead, you shot out of your uncomfortable little chair, and hauled your jealous little ass over to the concession stand. If you couldn’t go back in time and fix all the mistakes you’d made leading up to today, at least you could stuff your face full of peanut M&Ms until you felt better.

As you focused on tearing the yellow plastic with a little more force than what was necessary, you completely missed Alice—one of the more gossipy mothers on the team—approaching you.

“Hey babe,” she greeted cheerily. “We haven’t seen you in a few weeks. Where’ve you been?”

Your mouth was currently filled with candy, so it took you a second to respond. “Work,” you said in between chewing. “I barely had time to breathe, let alone bring Chloe to her games, so I had to basically beg on my knees for a little help from her father. Speaking of which, how was Nathan?”

“Oh,” Alice paused and looked off to the side, a little too guiltily for your liking. “Yeah, he was fine.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, brows furrowed at her strange reaction.

“Yeah! He was great. It’s just…” she trailed off and offered you an awkward smile. “We thought you two were maybe back together. You know, with the whole co-parenting thing.”

Your eye twitched. So the parents of the team were gossiping and theorizing about your love life. Great. That’s probably what was wrong with Joel—word had gotten back to him that you and Nathan were playing house again. No wonder he was putting such distance between you.

“Babe,” you tried not to let the annoyance you were experiencing reflect too much into your tone, “why would you tell people we were back together? Bringing your own child to their sports events is not exactly groundbreaking or relationship material.”

You were now gritting your teeth as the irritation really started to sink in. Joel probably didn’t reach out to you for your date since these fucking real housewives you were surrounded by had decided to spread baseless rumors about you from the moment your ex had stepped onto the sideline.

You were wrong. This was the rotten cherry on top of the absolute dogshit milkshake of a day you’d had.

“I’m sorry,” Alice didn’t sound as remorseful as you wish she did. You knew that deep down, she was enjoying this little game and would be more than happy to spread this information back to her friends. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“It’s fine, the damage is done,” you sighed, shoving a handful of candy in your mouth.

“Have you seen Joel and Cindy, though? They’re so cute together!”

It was now clearer than ever that Alice was only interacting with you to stir the pot, so you simply put on the best fake smile you could muster and nodded. “Adorable. Now if you don’t mind, I’m gonna go sit back down. I haven’t seen Chloe play in a few weeks, and she was doing so well in the last game, I’m sure she’s doing great now too!”

You didn’t wait for a response before walking off, attempting to suppress all of the feelings you were having with this new information you’d been given. In the three weeks you’d been gone, Alice had convinced the team that you and Nathan were back together, and Joel had already moved on. If you hadn’t cared so much about Chloe’s passions, you would’ve had her quit on the spot. You simply could not handle any more of this soccer parent culture.

Sitting back down in your seat, you offered Joel an M&M, to which he politely declined. You wondered if there was a way for you to casually explain that you and Nathan were not and would not ever be an item again, but then again, it seemed like with Cindy in the picture, the ship of making anything work with you two had sailed.

You attempted to focus on your daughter, who unsurprisingly was doing quite well in the game. You were glad that no matter how shitty your day was turning out, your kin was at least having a better day—and having fun doing it.

You simply went through the motions through the rest of the day, squeezing your daughter tight with a hug when all of the games for the day were finished and telling Sarah about how great of a job she did, then falling back into a somewhat uncomfortable silence on your drive to the hotel.

Checking in had proved to be… a bit of an odd situation. As you pocketed your room keys, Chloe made an odd offer—her and Sarah would share a room while you and Joel would share your own.

It shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did when your daughters proposed that you and Joel share a room so that they could have a sleepover, but it caught you off guard regardless.

You were hesitant for several obvious reasons, but their room was adjoined to yours, and there was a perfectly nice pull-out bed in the sofa, which meant there was absolutely no need to share a bed with Joel. After some consideration and discussion with the man who would be your roommate for the night, you ultimately settled on allowing it. You would take the sofa. Joel would take the bed.

Besides, it’s not like he’d be spending the majority of the night in the room. After a short conversation, he was getting dressed and going off to dinner with Cindy.

You tried not to feel bad for yourself for too long. You’d already spent the majority of the day feeling bad for yourself, whether it was for the shitty situations you found yourself in, or the way the moms on your team treated your love life like their favorite reality show.

Knocking on the door adjacent to your own, you were happy to see Chloe crack open her door.

“Hi girls,” you greeted. “What do you say to a pajama party?”

“Yes!” Chloe squealed, swinging her door wide open. Conveniently, they were already dressed the part, and were seemingly ready to wind down after a long day of physical activity.

After ordering an absurd amount of room service and having nothing short of a feast with your favorite pre-teens, the three of you sat on the floor under a blanket fort you’d constructed as you played Uno with some random network romcom playing in the background.

It felt like after a long day of holding your breath, you could finally let go of it, winding down with your two favorite children.

“Do you feel like you had a good day today?” you asked, placing a green three on top of the pile of cards.

“Yeah! I missed having you and my dad together at our games,” Sarah remarked, drawing a card.

Chloe nodded in agreement, setting down one of her own cards. “You really spice up our games. I think Joel yells a little louder at us when you’re here. He was pretty quiet when dad was bringing me.”

You tried not to let your emotions show on your face too much in front of the children, but it was undeniably sweet that you being around brightened Joel’s light, even now, when things were a little more awkward between the two of you. You simply hummed as you set down your card.

“Yeah, he kept asking me if I knew where you were,” Sarah drew a card then placed the card back down on the pile. “I think he missed you.”

So maybe Joel wasn’t as mad at you as you thought he was. Asking where you were had to be a good sign, right? Maybe it really just boiled down to him thinking you were back together with your ex-husband, and him not wanting to cross any boundaries.

“I think you’re our good luck charm. Did you see how well we played today?” Chloe asked, discarding a card. “Uno.”

“I think you guys are just good,” you set down a card. “Uno.”

“I dunno, when you were gone we kept losing,” Sarah set down a skip, causing Chloe to exclaim in frustration.

“Our friendship is over,” Chloe announced to Sarah for what must’ve been the third time that night.

“Mean it this time?” she teased.

“I swear!” the pair broke out into giggles as you set down your final card.

“We need to team up on you! How is it that you keep winning?” Sarah asked, pointing an accusatory finger at you.

“She’s a dirty cheater,” Chloe tutted. “Just ask her why we don’t play Monopoly anymore. Right, mom?”

“Hey!” you exclaimed. “It was a rough patch. I keep winning Uno because you two keep targeting each other. What happened to team work?”

“No such thing in Uno,” Sarah shrugged.

You laughed aloud, feeling some of your stress melting away with the motion, “you guys are too funny.”

Chloe yawned and reached for the pile in the middle of your little circle. “You can’t compliment your way out of this, cheater.”

“Ugh, whatever. I didn’t realize I raised such a sore loser.”

“Takes one to know one!” Chloe jeered.

“Sure,” you chuckled. “Well, I think it's this cheater’s bedtime. Can I help you guys undo the pillow fort?”

The girls agreed, and you helped take down the mess of blankets, chairs, and pillows as they began to wind down and settle into bed.

“Goodnight, girls,” you bid farewell as you approached the adjoining door. “If you need anything, just come on over, okay? Sweet dreams,” you blew kisses to both of them before going back over to your side of the room.

When you made it back to your room, Joel was already in bed, the soft light of the television illuminating his face in the otherwise dark room. The light from the screen and his pajamas were doing him all sorts of favors, making him look like he walked straight out of your domestic fantasy.

“When did you get back?” you asked as you grabbed your phone charger from your bag and approached the pull-out bed.

“Like, an hour ago,” he shrugged, leaning back against the headboard.

“You should’ve come over and played Uno with us,” you suggested, attempting to get cozy in your makeshift bed as you pulled the threadbare hotel blanket over your legs. “We had a little fort and everything.”

“Didn’t wanna intrude on your girls’ night,” he mumbled sleepily, hugging a pillow as he adjusted himself in bed.

“We would’ve been happy to have you,” you muttered, trying your best to relax in the rather uncomfortable makeshift bed.

Joel simply grunted in response, his eyes now shut. You could only assume that sleep set in quickly, and you’d now lost him to dreamland.

You stared up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. Part of you wished that this whole day was just an awful dream, and that you’d wake up the morning after the team dinner at Joel’s house, able to do everything all over again.

Rolling onto your side, you hoped that the shitty pull-out bed would become even slightly more comfortable, but your hope was to no avail. You sighed softly and closed your eyes, wondering if you started counting sheep, if it’d be any easier to fall asleep.

About fifteen sheep in, Joel’s soft voice calling your name pulled you out of whatever sleepy daze you’d been in.

“Hey, are you sleeping yet?” he practically whispered.

“No,” you responded, voice far above a whisper. “The floor would probably be more comfortable than this.”

“I told you you shouldn’t have taken the pull-out bed,” he goaded.

“You wanna get down here and sleep on it for me?”

“No. Well… Would it help you sleep better?”

“Joel,” you huffed.

“I shouldn’t have asked,” you listened as the bedsheets began to rustle.

“No, no, don’t do that. Your body needs an actual bed after all that hard manual labor you do. Lay back down.”

“Not if you can’t fall asleep because of that shitty bed. Trust me, I’ve slept in worse conditions.”

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should. Now I’m going to sleep. Goodnight.”

Joel paused for a second, and you assumed he’d finally given up. Good.

Until he called your name once again. “Come up here and get a good night’s rest.”

“No,” you argued, though your sleepy brain was practically begging you to move to the comfier location. “You need it more than me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You snickered, “whatever you want it to mean.”

Silence on his end once again. Time to start herding your sheep.

“Why don’t we just share? There’s probably room for three of me on this bed.”

A bold proposition from a man who got back from a date only a few hours ago. A bold proposition that you were probably a bit too enthusiastic to take.

“Fine,” you huffed. “Only to get you off my ass.”

Every part of your body was thanking you as you slipped out of the shitty couch-bed and padded over to the empty side of the real bed. Tentatively, you got in bed and under the sheets, making sure to keep yourself on your side and keeping your back facing his.

“Goodnight, Joel.” you finally whispered.

“Goodnight,” he softly said your name, and you imagined the look on his face. Maybe in a different world, one where you’d gone on a date with him when the offer was on the table, you’d be in bed with him without the argument, with his arm wrapped around your waist as he wrapped you in a warm embrace, or with him hovering above you as you attempted to keep quiet in a hotel filled with guests who were more than willing to speculate about you.

It was nice to have someone in bed with you again. Even if all you had was the heat radiating off of the man next to you, and the sound of his deep breaths as he fell deeper and deeper into sleep. Despite all that had gone wrong in the day, and whatever Joel’s situation was with his date, somehow laying in bed with someone else made you feel at ease.

You didn’t have to count any more sheep to fall asleep that night.

When you woke up, Joel was already out of bed, pulling on a hat and slipping on his shoes. “Oh good, you’re awake,” he commented as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. “Wanna get complimentary breakfast before it goes away?”

You stretched out as you listened to the proposition, wondering if the phantom feeling of an arm around your waist during the night was real or just a dream. “You know me so well.”

Somehow, the tension between the two of you didn’t feel so heavy that morning. Maybe sleeping in bed together had helped to break the ice, or maybe some other variable was at play. Regardless, you were happy to feel like your relationship had gone back to what it had been a month ago, even if Joel really was beginning to form something with Cindy.

The hotel lobby wasn’t too busy when you and Joel went down. You were certainly grateful, as the fact that you had just rolled out of bed and gone to breakfast was more than obvious to anyone who’d looked at you for more than two seconds.

You were stirring endless circles into your coffee when Joel sat down across from you, sighing as he leaned back into his chair.

“Sleep well?” he asked before taking a hearty sip of his own coffee.

You held back a laugh and exchanged it for the slightest hint of a smile. If only he knew just how well you slept. “I guess,” you admitted. “I always sleep well in hotel beds.”

You were completely uncertain of how to address the bed-sized elephant in the room, or if it was even a good idea to do so. But the lack of coffee in your system and the remnants of sleep clouding your brain had lowered your inhibitions significantly, causing the next words to tumble out of your mouth.

“Thank you for letting me join you,” you involuntarily held your breath after saying so, too afraid to openly wait for his reaction.

“Of course,” he hummed, beginning to stab at some of the food on his plate. “I couldn’t just let you break your back on that couch-bed.”

“Well I appreciate it,” you began to pick at some of your own food, the two of you falling into a far more comfortable silence. Obviously something had shifted between the time of the game and now, but you couldn’t quite place it. Since you were already in the mood to address elephants in the room, you had no issue blurting, “How was your date last night?”

“Date?” Joel looked up from his scrambled eggs with a furrowed brow.

“With Cindy? From the other team?” you took a bite of toast and didn’t back down from the loaded eye contact going on between the two of you.

“Well, it wasn’t a date. Cindy’s married. Happily, I might add. Just catching up with a family friend.”

You were slightly taken aback, but not necessarily in a bad way. Suddenly, you felt silly for all the energy you’d wasted the day prior feeling jealous and bad for yourself, when you didn’t even know the full story.

“Well, what about Nathan? Is he a family friend?” it came out defensive, and you couldn’t particularly blame him for it. Finally some proof that this was what that weird tension had been all about.

Maybe if your mind was slightly more clear, you’d find it cute that you were both a little jealous over each other. Maybe you really hadn’t thrown away your chance at this thing the way you’d thought you did.

“No! I told you, I’ve been swamped with work. Like, getting home so late that I only see Chloe in the mornings and when I tuck her into bed, late. She needed to go to her games, and I knew there was only one person I could possibly guilt trip into bringing her. But I would rather marry the actual incarnation of Satan himself before spending another day with her father.”

“Oh,” Joel said quietly, lifting his disposable cup to his lips and seeming rather deep in thought.

“But you thought I was with him this whole time?”

“I guess?”

“And you still invited me into your bed?” you pressed, a hint of amusement in your voice.

“There was nothing inherently romantic or… sexual about that. I just didn’t want you to wake up in pain,” he set down his cup, but continued staring you down.

You shrugged. Solid answer, although you certainly wouldn’t be opposed to either alternative scenarios.

“But even if there was, it’s only because you deserve better than that man. And from what I’ve seen, pretty much any man is better than him.”

“Including you?” you pressed.

“What do you think?” the little smirk he was obviously trying to fight only egged you on.

“I think I agree with you. Except, I don’t love that you just assumed something about my relationship status because one of those human rumor mills told you it. Next time, you wait until you hear it from me, okay?”

“I normally would’ve, I guess I’m just so used to things not working out with me, my brain was just looking for a reason why this wouldn’t work out either.”

“To be fair, not contacting you after saying I’d go out with you is pretty solid grounds for thinking we wouldn’t work out. But at least let me take you on a date before we try to figure out if we’ll work out or not.”

“You still want to go on that date?” Joel asked, sounding more astonished than you would’ve expected.

“What do you think?” you winked, tossing his words right back at him.

Just as your exchange began to wrap up, you were joined by two sleepy kids, who most certainly heard part of your conversation about going on a date. You couldn’t even bother with feeling mortified, too high on the knowledge that you had yet another shot with Joel.

“How was your sleepover?” you asked the girls without missing a beat.

“Fun. We missed you, though,” Chloe sighed as she buttered up a bagel.

“Yeah, Uno’s not the same without you,” Sarah added as she began to cut up her pancakes.

“I’m flattered, girls. We’ll have to have an Uno tournament sometime and get Joel on it too. Mostly so he can witness me beating everyone’s ass at it.”

“Language, mom. And we all know you’re a cheater.”

“Keep telling yourself that, sweetie.”

“I don’t know, I kinda believe it,” Joel teased.

“Not you too, Joel! You’re supposed to be on my side,” you laughed.

Your table fell into comfortable conversation for the rest of breakfast before you had to send the girls off to go get ready for their games. You almost wanted to pinch yourself to check if you were still dreaming after waking up in this domestic paradise following the terrible day you’d had yesterday, but even if it was a dream, you weren’t sure you wanted to wake up.

The rest of the tournament went smoothly, with the ice sufficiently broken between you and Joel, and you even joining in on his conversations with Cindy as the three of you sat together. The girls’ team ultimately won, leading to some very happy passengers as you drove back home. As you exited Joel’s car, you gave him a soft kiss on the cheek and a whispered promise of going out with him soon. To think, when you’d started your weekend, you never would have believed it would end in this manner.

——

“Mom, hurry!” Chloe yelled up the stairs at you, sounding a little more impatient than what you would’ve liked.

You could understand where she was coming from. Following the end of the soccer season, Joel had been quite busy, and Chloe hadn’t been able to see her closest friend outside of school hours for quite some time. If you were Chloe, you’d probably be anxious to see Sarah too.

Hurrying down the stairs with a newfound sense of urgency, you gave your daughter a little side hug.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” you apologized, understanding her urgency a little too well.

“Don’t be sorry. Just be efficient,” she pulled away from you and checked out your clothing. Sure, it was 6 PM and you were already in your pajamas. Sue you for wanting to come back home after a long day at work and put on your softest cat-printed pajama pants. “That’s a good outfit.”

“Oh, thank you. I was actually invited to Paris Fashion Week, but-“

“You can tell me in the car!” she exclaimed as she scurried off, with you following behind the little slippery bastard.

In the car, Chloe seemed to be acting a little… suspicious. Although, you didn’t pay much mind to it, making small talk on the short drive over to her friend’s house. Her friend whose father you still hadn’t found time to go out with.

“Oh yeah, being here reminded me that Joel had something to tell you,” Chloe announced as you pulled into their driveway. “Come in with me?”

By now, you were slightly suspicious, but the idea of having some sort of confrontation by Joel about you not following through on your word once again overrode your suspicions of your child.

As Chloe rang the doorbell, Sarah swung the door open, smiling at her friend, then up at you.

“Hi, come on in!” she said sweetly, opening the door all the way and leading you inside.

As you walked in, your eyes caught on a makeshift pillow fort—one that oddly resembled the one you’d helped the girls make during their tournament. Cute.

“My dad’s inside. He wants to talk to you. See you later, bye!” Sarah talked quickly, and even quicker than her speech, she disappeared up the stairs with your daughter.

Something was definitely up.

You approached the fort with trepidation, and slowly pulled up a flap, where you found Joel dressed similarly to you in a loose shirt and plaid pajama pants, comfortably splayed out on his back while he seemed to be playing Candy Crush on his phone.

“Oh, hey,” you said awkwardly. “The girls said you wanted to talk to me?”

“Oh, hey,” he parroted back, seeming even more taken aback by your presence as he immediately sat up. “Uh, I actually didn’t know you were coming over?”

Oh.

It was always something with your kids. They knew how to scheme, and they knew how to scheme well.

“That’s fine,” you laughed to yourself about the situation. “I was gonna head out anyway. It was good to see you, and for the record, you clean up pretty well,” you teased, alluding to your similar mid-evening pajamas.

“Wait!” he said quickly, nearly cutting you off. “Sorry, wait. Don’t go yet. Unless you have somewhere else to be…?”

You shook your head and shrugged.

“I mean, obviously our kids set us up again, but we also haven’t followed through on that date yet. So maybe we can do it now?”

“Maybe,” you hummed as you sat down next to him on a mountain of pillows. “What would you want to do?” you asked, gently tapping his leg with your fuzzy-sock clad foot. (Chloe didn’t need to know that what was taking you so long was finding these god-forsaken socks.)

“Well, I’ve been wanting to take you out to some snobby, fancy restaurant,” he began.

“Oh?” you voiced, brows raised.

“But I don’t really think that’s either of our speeds.”

“Agreed. I don’t know where you’re going with this, but I’m liking it so far.”

“We also probably shouldn’t leave the girls home alone at night,” he continued to think out loud, his soft eyes never leaving your own. You almost felt like you were caught in a trance by them.

“So what do you suggest we do, Joel?” you asked.

“Well, we have this wonderful pillow fort already at our disposal. Maybe we can order some food and watch a movie?”

“I think sitting in a pillow fort while eating food and watching a movie is my love language. That sounds lovely.”

You two smiled at each other, and you could hear your heartbeat pound in your ears as a warm feeling filled your chest. It had been far too long since you’d felt any semblance of this feeling.

An abundance of Thai food and an argument over what movie to watch later, you were curled up like a cat beside Joel admiring the look of his face under the lighting of the fairy lights that were hung up throughout the little fort.

“Ugh, why haven’t we done this sooner?” you asked, lifting your head out of the dip of his shoulder.

“We’re both too busy,” he murmured, looking away from the television screen to look over at you.

“I’ll literally take sick time off just to do this again,” you remarked.

“I think that’s just the Thai food talking.”

“It was fucking amazing.”

“Told you.”

“But it’s not just the Thai food. I really like you a lot, Joel. I like spending time with you. I like talking to you and arguing about whether a shitty romcom or shitty action movie is better. I like doing mundane shit with you, like putting up fairy lights in a fort to enhance our ‘fort experience’. I like cuddling with you. Has anyone ever told you that you’re basically a human furnace? Anyway, I hate the fact that our daughters had to make an elaborate scheme just to get us together. I wanna make more time for you, because you deserve it. But like, only if you also wanna spend more time with me,” you confessed.

“Of course I want to spend more time with you. And in the spirit of honesty, I really do have the time, sometimes. I guess I just worry that you wouldn’t want to spend your free time with me.”

“Joel, I would sit and watch paint dry on a wall if you were there with me. From the moment you entered my life, you’ve made everything a little better. If I have the time, I’m never gonna say no to being with you.”

He paused for a moment as he seemed to process that information, only coming back with a quiet, “Can I kiss you?”

You grabbed his cheeks and kissed him like no one you’d ever kissed before. It felt like the Fourth of July in your stomach as a moment you felt you’d been waiting for all your life finally came to fruition.

By the time you pulled away, you were breathless and felt warm all over. You could go out on a limb and say that as far as dates go, this one was pretty successful, and to think, if it wasn’t for your daughters’ intervention, none of this would’ve happened.

Yeah, you definitely needed to treat them to something.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us hbo #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller imagine #soccer parents au

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heaven4lostgirls · 7 months

Text

reconciliation (S.R)

pairing: steve rogers x fem!reader, billy russo x reader implied

warnings: angst, jealousy, kind of toxic?

summary: your conversation with steve has left him reeling to try and get you back, and you've just dropped the biggest blow to his chances of trying to win you back.

word count: 1.3k

a/n: i'm really sorry this took so long to get out, uni has swamped me with work but here i am ig! maybe another update will get out during the weekend? dont hold me to that tho lmao

tags: @blackhawkfanatic , @buckys-wintersoldier , @witchychanel , @nicoline1998enilocin

part 1, part 2, part 3

You weren’t sure what you were expecting after your conversation with Steve if you could even call it that. It had been a couple of weeks and surely but surely you had started warming up to him again, it started with small nods in his direction as a greeting but that soon moved into small conversations. It had been a slow and torturous process for Steve, but he knew just as well as you did that, he was nowhere near even being able to exercise the ability to complain about his situation after what he had put you through.

The real heartbreak hit him when he realised, you’d been looking for apartments and job hunting, for some reason he had assumed that although you no longer joined the avengers for meeting briefings and were off the last few missions, you were just taking a break. Evidently, he was quite wrong, you had been spending your time responding to ‘work-related’ emails regarding a company called Anvil run by Billy Russo.

Now, Steve hardly kept up with any news that was not regarding his position as Captain America and very loosely he kept up with the NFL, so he knew next to nothing about Billy Russo until he was listening to your conversation with Tony in the kitchen.

You had walked in to make your breakfast and just as Steve and you had good morning to one another, Tony strolled through the open door on the phone with Pepper, adamantly in an argument with something to do with Tony’s public appearance at some gala.

“Pep-honey-, yes I understand but-“ Tony rolls his eyes and what Pepper says next and as you make your way to give him some privacy, he holds up his hands to make you wait and as your quirk an eyebrow, you lean against the kitchen counter waiting for the conversation to end. “Fine! Whatever you want! Just please don’t seat me next to that mayor” he pauses “yes! That one! He always smells like cheese” Tony shivers and you and Steve share a quick smile of amusement before you look away with flaming cheeks.

Tony hangs up the call and looks at you with a sly smile.

“Anvil huh?” he asks as he makes his way around you and Steve to the coffee machine, with a quick good morning to Steve, he looks at you expectantly.

“Oh, come off it Stark, I put in my two week notice ages ago, knowing Friday, he probably already told you when I applied” you reply with a joking eyeroll.

An automated voice floods through the system and you nearly jump out of your skin” I would never Miss Y/L/N” you’ve still got to get used to that.

“Anvil?” Steve questions tersely with pursed lips, you can’t tell if it’s out of anger or worry.

“Yeah! It’s a private military firm and since I used to be in the Navy, Billy reached out to me and offered me a position as his personal assistant!” you reply enthusiastically and through your excitement, you fail to notice how Steve’s face falls and Tony’s eyes light up with humour.

“Billy huh?” Steve’s strained smile makes you pause for a second before Tony snorts into his coffee and as you turn to glare at him, he shrugs innocently.

“Yes. Billy. He asked me to call him that because we’ll be working together” you reply curtly and fight the urge to lash out at Steve and let him know he has no right to be jealous because he no longer has anything remotely more than friendship connecting the both of you.

“Doesn’t hurt that he’s good looking either” Tony remarks and yelps as you swiftly throw one of the knives near you towards the cupboards right next to his head.

You shake your head and move to leave the kitchen before you turn around to the both of them and remark “I shall now be going to set up a meeting time with my boss if that’s okay with you two idiots?” you smile sarcastically, and Tony just waves you off.

Steve frowns as he watches you leave with an ugly feeling of jealousy bubbling underneath his skin, he glares at the counter in front of him before his anger is interrupted by Tony’s voice floating through the silent room.

“You know, you were her boss once” he remarks, after he had comforted you as you sobbed in his arms, he had been particularly harsh and unwelcoming to Steve even though you had spoken to him about Steve trying to work whatever your relationship with him was.

“I’m aware” Steve responds as he grits his teeth whilst fighting the urge to break the granite counter under his fingertips. He scoots his chair out as he makes his way to ask Bucky to train with him, he’s got some anger to work out and Bucky is realistically the only person that could handle his full super soldier strength pummeling at them.

You had successfully set a meeting time to go over your contract with Billy with his current personal assistant since she’d be taking her maternity leave in the next couple of weeks. Your mind had kept wondering to Steve’s reaction to you getting a new job, you understood his jealousy all too well since that wasn’t even the beginning of your deep-rooted jealousy and insecurities that affected you by Steve’s relationship with Sharon.

Still, you knew that it was no longer your responsibility to worry about his own emotions and how he coped with them. You no longer felt complied to comfort him whenever you saw his sorrowful longing gaze towards you whenever you walked into a room, or when hurt and pain flashes through his gaze whenever you referred to him as ‘Rogers’ in front of the others.

Meanwhile in the training room, instead of focusing on the hand-to-hand combat Steve had asked Bucky to help him with, he was basically interrogating his friend.

“What do you know about some guy called Billy Russo?” Steve panted as he tried to dodge Bucky’s jabs as he moves swiftly and quickly around the mat.

“Not much mate, just that he’s stinking rich for his age- hey! stop fucking jumping around like a goddamn bunny punk” Bucky huffs out at Steves insistent buoyancy.

“I’m just light on my feet!” Steve defends.

“Yeah, if you were on a fucking bouncy castle” Bucky rolls his eyes and winces as he doesn’t dodge Steve’s punch in time.

“Is he good looking?” Steve asks and Bucky has to pause to look at his friend with a weird expression. Steve just stands there with a serious expression and widens his eyes as if to say go on.

“Sure pal, the dude’s good looking, he was in that fuckin Forbes magazine for Millionaires under 30” Bucky says and watches as Steve loses focus, Bucky aims for his weak spot on his right shoulder and watches as his best friend collapses onto the mat, out of breath.

“What’s with all the questions punk?” Bucky frowns as he holds his hand out for Steve to take and as he pulls him up, he watches as his friend’s winces at the question.

“Y/N is going to work for him” Steve says and Bucky nods with a pitying smile on his face that Steve hates. He doesn’t want pity, he wants to fix this, except he doesn’t know how.

You’ve never looked better the past couple of weeks after yours and Steve’s separation, it’s almost as Steve was constantly sucking the life out of you and now you looked just as good as the first day, he met you.

He hates the idea of you going out into public and working under someone else just for someone to see what he once saw in you, now that he knew that you were unattainable for him at the current time but attainable for people like Billy fuckin Russo made him feel closer to possessive and feral than he’s ever felt.

“Then we’ve got work to do mate” Bucky slaps a hand on his shoulder as he maneuvers him out of, the room, chatting away about a plan to win y/n back. Steve is hardly listening and is planning to kill Billy Russo in 300 different ways before he’s even able to think about having a chance with you.

#juliwrites #mcu #marvel #billy russo #billy russo x reader #steve rogers angst #steve rogers hurt #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers hurt/comfort #steve rogers #tony stark #billy russo fanfic #biilly russo imagine

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idesofrevolution · 11 months

Text

My Best Friend, the Ghost

It was the best feeling in the world. Picture this: a simple spread of the legs in the summer heat, sweat dripping from your forehead. You feel a cool, slick touch slide down your inner thigh. It feels almost slimy, though it leaves no residue as it inches toward your taint and ever closer to your rear. You gasp as it circles the tight hole, as if an expert were rimming you with their cold, wet tongue. Then, quickly, a gentle thrust. You feel it enter you, slithering slowly, intentionally. It begins to fill you, that frosty ooze spreading all throughout your body. Your breath is laboured, as you begin to contort and expand as it is overtaken, washed and inundated with this foreign substance bubbling beneath your skin. It pushes up your throat, choking you, taking the last of your breath away before it presses at the top palate of your mouth. It would feel almost like drowning, though your sensations only fire endorphin after endorphin of euphoria. Pressure builds as it presses harder and harder, until... pop. The hard palate gives way as it rushes and balloons into your head. Thoughts and stresses fade away, and you're left in a state of total ecstasy as your body begins to move on its own.

Fuckin' amazing, am I right? Well, guess what? I get that incomprehensible experience whenever the hell I want. Perks of living in a haunted apartment! Confused? Let me explain.

I moved to New Orleans a year ago, give or take a couple of months. I graduated college, and after testing out a couple of places that didn't really pan out for me, I landed in the cement swamp in the height of the summer. I'd just left Salt Lake City, so coming from the tepid air of Utah to the brick wall humidity of Louisiana was a lot. Yet, I was determined to make the best of this one. I'd secured a low-level office gig at a non-profit, and rented out a cheap two bedroom just outside the French Quarter. The house was one of those old shotgun-style places. It wasn't well maintained, frankly incomprehensibly so to be up to purpose for a tenant, though I was still paying an arm and a leg.

The first few nights, I didn't sleep super well. It was hot, I was sleeping on a hard air mattress, and the tall ceilings and old wooden floors made every little creak and groan of the house sound like some demonic entity moaning in the darkness just out of sight. At the time, I was resolved to believe such a rational theory. After all, ghosts aren't real. That recent college graduate sensibility: anything can be rationalized. Looking back, I scoff at what I thought I knew compared to what I know now. But that skeptic within me was what I relied on. It got me through my courses, it got me my job, it is what guided me through the insanity of life. So, as more peculiar occurrences began to happen, that is precisely the lens with which I saw the world.

When things started to go missing: my trusty running shoes, a pair of underwear, my gold chain, my laptop, even my keys, it was just me being forgetful. I took my Adderall and just ordered new things. I hunkered down and just focused on my work. When I heard scratching in the walls at night, footsteps down my hallway, quiet breaths echoing in the shadows... I was just sleep deprived, I took my Xanax and zonked myself out. Those dark shadows that crept around the corners just on the edge of my peripherals? Eye floaters, nothing more. Though, after about two weeks of just a miserable living experience, I finally experienced something I couldn't rationalize.

It was after a soul sucking day at the office, having spent all day sifting through piles of meaningless paperwork to the grating click clack of my coworkers silently typing on their keyboards like mindless drones. I'd gone into overtime that day, and after five or six cups of coffee, I can't say I was even remotely physically tired that evening. My mind, of course, was entirely devoid of functionality. Walking through my front door, tossing my keys in the little dish by the door, I collapsed onto my couch and just scrolled through Netflix, looking for nothing in particular. That's when I saw it. I'd turned to grab my vape pen from the side table, and my glance had grazed past the mirror which hung above my mantle. Floating behind me, clear as day in the mirror, was a figure. It was larger than I, big broad shoulders and pecs, tapering down to a narrow waist, flanked on either side by two muscled arms. It's face was chiseled and sharp, brows furrowed, golden eyes narrowed and full lips twisted in a mischievous smirk. It had no legs; rather, its body was condensed into a long whippy tail. Most notably, I would argue, was the... well... rather sizeable phallus which stood erect above it's navel, with two grapefruit sized balls hanging beneath it.

I sat frozen, unable to look away from it sizing me up in the mirror's reflection. All the other things I could make sense of in my head were obliterated at the sight of what was merely inches behind me, and inches above the floor. I finally found the strength to merely exhale, letting a soft billowing cloud of breath out of my mouth. It was the middle of June, and perhaps 91 Fahrenheit outside. It was impossible. Everything about what my eyes were seeing was impossible. As it began to creep toward me, I fully expected to spin around and like every haunted house movie of all time, there would be nothing there. Though as I whipped my head to look behind, no such luck. I was face to face with it. It was grinning as we were nose to nose. Bringing it's cool, ghostly hand to my cheek, it caressed it with the back of its fingers and winked at me.

"Hey there." It's voice boomed like a timpani, yet it's timbre was gravelly and suave. I couldn't help myself. In a primal state of panic, I shrieked a terrified scream. It didn't last long. The spirit seized the opportunity I was entirely unaware I had given it- quickly shoving it's head into my open mouth. The force by which it had taken me was overwhelming, though I suppose with it's sheer size, in retrospect it makes perfect sense. I was flung down into the cushions of the couch, as it pushed itself into me. I grasped at my throat, which was bulging from the thing which was now flooding down my gaping maw. I could hear it laugh from within me as it squeezed itself in, it's massive upper body condensing in on itself and slowly pushing deep into my gut. My stomach ballooned out, stretching as if it were rubber while it's tail whipped aimlessly against my face before it slipped between my lips.

This was the first time I felt the sensation. The euphoria. The cascading waterfall of endorphins as my body was contorting and stretching as the ghost slipped me on like a suit. I could feel it thrusting it's hands into my arms which expanded and stretched to accommodate the spirit's size. I could feel my chest burst through my shirt, with two jiggling pecs now engorged with it's essence. I could feel my thighs and calves swell with thick muscle, and my feet lengthen and explode through my socks. It was as if someone had taken a water hose and filled me like a balloon, and as I felt it's head rising up my throat one last time and slither into my head, I can't say I wasn't in the throws of intense and indescribable bliss. My eyes opened, I was no longer in the driver's seat.

"Ahhh fuck." It's voice boomed out of my mouth as I found my body moving of it's own accord. No, rather moving of his accord. I stood up, feeling my jiggling muscles slowly firm up and tighten as I walked to the mirror. The thing which wore me as a suit was checking itself out! It had my skin, my face, but otherwise I was unrecognizable. I was indeed approaching 6' 4", my jawline was square and chiseled, my arms as large as my head, my feet probably a size 16, and my... appendage? Let's just say he was now an anaconda snaking down my thigh, his hood restored and flanked on either side by an impressive bulbous sac. "Shit, that feels nice." My voice was soft like velvet, but frayed with a coarseness which tickled the mind like sandpaper. It stretched my muscles and cracked my neck and knuckles before finally bothering to introduce itself. "Name's Antoine, nice to meet ya." My hand slinked down to my member giving it a playful tug. "Actually, tonight, your name is Antoine too, baby." He smiled with my pearly white teeth, and it would be an outright lie to deny I was not eager to see what this Antoine would be using me to do that night. We sauntered over to my bedroom, tossing shirts and pants out of my drawers before he found some shorts and a tank top that fit my new musculature whatsoever. I had but only one pair of sandals that he could force my massive feet into, but neither he nor I could care less. As walked to the front door, and stepped out into the humid New Orleans air, he took a deep breath with my borrowed lungs, sighing in satisfaction. "Aight, my man. Let's see what kind of trouble we can get in tonight."

Thus began our mutual understanding. Our partnership. Frankly, our friendship. That night was one filled with club hopping across town, hitting dancefloors right and left, drinking outrageous amounts of liquor, grinding on sexy men with our tongue down their throats... None of which I would have ever experienced on my own. It was an entire world I knew nothing about, nothing I could have ever imagined myself doing, but with Antoine it seemed like second nature. After a night of debauchery and a tryst in some leather daddy's hotel room, he returned near the crack of dawn, collapsing onto my bed in a sweaty, swampy heap. He closed my eyes and almost immediately afterward I reopened them. The sun had risen, and peering at my phone, it was then 9 AM.

For a moment, I sat there and stared at the ceiling. I waited for my body to move on his command, though when it didn't, I whipped my sheets off to see that I had returned mostly to my former stature. I did note that I had grown ever so slightly. Perhaps his presence within me had left some residual effects on my body, a pleasant fact of which I did not mind whatsoever. I sat up, stretching my arms above my head, a wet warm musk wafting from my sweaty pits and steamy feet from the night before. For the first time, I found myself rather enjoying the scent... Where it once used to make me grimace with disgust, it now made me nearly salivate at the slightest tickle on my nose. I peered to the corner of the room, where now even in broad daylight I could see Antoine's spectral self floating above the floorboards, his arms crossed and his bright smile greeting me in the morning light.

We stared at eachother for a mere moment, before I smiled back at him. It didn't take words for us to understand what was to soon come to pass. Frankly, from then on, it was an unspoken pact. An inseparable bond, bound by an awakened hedonism and carnal desire. Starting that morning, our boys night out became a regular occurrence. I'd get home from work, exhausted and tired from a thankless day of grinding in the soulless office, and we would come up with a plan for the evening. He'd take his time slipping into me, knowing full well just how much I enjoyed each breathtaking second of it. In fact, we took a Saturday to go shopping for "night clothes" which would actually fit us when he was inside me.

Antoine was a bit of a casanova, able to make any person he met swoon with a single glance. The parade of men strutting the walk of shame out of my home every morning did not go unnoticed by my neighbors, not that they particularly seemed to care. It was the spirit of New Orleans, live every day like it's your last. That sentiment was instilled in me, along with a new attitude. I began to care less and less about this dead end job which had only gotten more and more unbearable as our relationship grew. My boss began to notice this as well. He noticed that my productivity had slipped, that I'd begun to come into work with more and more tattoos (which were admittedly against company policy), that my musky scent was becoming stronger and more apparent, that I'd become more casual and laid back, that I was trying to force myself into work clothes that were increasingly more and more revealing as my body grew toned and large. This, to him at least, was unacceptable. I don't entirely recall what it was that finally set him off, though I think it may have had something to do with me having my feet up on my desk as I took calls and the delicious pheromones to which my coworkers had taken a liking to. Something to do with my cubicle mate Daniel lapping up the pungent sweat from my socks beneath my desk as I worked. Couldn't say. Either way, it was the last straw for me.

It wasn't much of a loss, as my frequent appearances at the clubs, or rather my appearance altogether, which the bar owners had taken notice of. I had a line of bartending and gogo boy offers to take up in it's stead. Though, it wouldn't be enough to cover the rent on my own. Thus, we hatched a plan. A solution to both our issues: my financial one, and a more permanent solution for Antoine.

It was an average night in the French Quarter, we were behind the bar, and there before us appeared our solution sitting on a stool near the drink well. He was a tourist, a particularly needy and rude one at that. No friends, failing every attempt to snag the attention of our regular hustlers with his more than lacklustre personality. He was perfect. It wasn't difficult to play into his inflated ego, all it took was playing into his cringeworthy advances and unwelcomed touches before he was licking our pits and nipples, ready to head to our place. A lack of a tip was the final nail in the coffin, we were ready. The 'three' of us stumbled back to our apartment, and it took merely five minutes of making out before the drunken asshole had passed out in our bed.

Walking back into the living room, Antoine regurgitated himself out of me. Feeling him exit was always a bittersweet experience, euphoric in sensation but longing in sentiment. He floated in front of me, winking as he compressed himself under the door of our bedroom, slipping in with a quiet pop. Wiping the sweat from my brow, and taking a deep whiff of my dank sneaker like degenerate scent pig I'd become, I popped open a bottle of our nicer tequila to celebrate. As the yellow liquor began to pour into the glass, I heard the delightful sounds of possession begin to loudly bellow out from behind the closed door. A shriek, followed by squeaks and rubbery creaks atop elated moaning and gasping. Taking the two glasses, I meandered over to the couch, kicking my wafting, wet feet up onto the coffee table and grabbing the bong to pack a nice bowl.

The sounds of inflation and gargling, stretching skin and growing muscle were like candy to my ears, as I wondered what Antoine would look like. The guy was less than ideal before, though as a host, the sky was the limit to how gorgeous he was going to be. I lit the bowl, taking a deep drag before blowing an adequate cloud. Antoine's moans got louder and louder, his voice all the more recognizable as it progressed. One more puff from the bong and the sound of that final pop soared through the air. The house was silent apart from the heavy panting quietly emanating from the bedroom.

I sat there for a solid moment. He always was the master of the tease, knowing full well that I awaited his reveal. I could hear his chuckling before I heard the click of the lock on the door. Slowly, I stood up and walked to the bedroom door, pressing my ear against the wood. Nothing. I grabbed ahold of the doorknob with bated breath, slowly turning it and pushing the door open. The lights were on in the bedroom, and there in front of the mirror taking a selfie with his host's phone was my Antoine.

He was better than I ever could have imagined. That lanky, sad excuse for a man was long gone and in his stead stood the dreamiest hunk I'd ever set my eyes on. Our bodies were nearly identical in stature, as over the past several months he'd completely stretched me out to his own measurements. Though, his delicious golden eyes on that gorgeous, masculine face sent me over the edge. He was stacked, he was tall, he was caramel, he was packing down there, and he wafted that buttery, salty musk that made me drool. All he needed to do was to turn to me and wink in his new body and I felt myself harden.

"What's up, baby boy?" He flexed his massive arms, seductively licking his sweaty bicep for me. Let's just say that tequila and that bowl were still there the next day. We were rather preoccupied throughout the dawn, the morning, the afternoon, the evening... Endless hours of carnal pleasures and sensual overload. Simply washing the bedsheets of our intertwined cum imbued into the very threads of the fabric took longer than expected. I imagine you get the picture, so needless to say, such days were and continue to be frequent.

I suppose that brings us to today. As I sit here and write out how we got to this very moment, waiting for an Uber to take us to our honeymoon, I'll go ahead and mention that my former boss just walked by us, feigning pleasantries as if we were old buddies. Asking if now that I had a partner, I was finally ready to knuckle down and come back to work in a 'real job.' I turned to Antoine, he turned to me, and as we found our hands sliding toward eachother's growing bulges, basking in eachother's beguiling musk while my frump of an old boss indignantly watched, I flipped him the bird.

He stomped off, I doubt I'll ever see him again. Why should I need to? I have my man, I have our future, we have all the delicious men of this raunchy city to enjoy... What else can a guy ask for?

#male possession #male transformation #body transformation #original #transformation #jockification #musk #gay transformation #male tf #ghost possession #bad boy transformation #body possession #gay possession #jock possession #muscle tf #jock tf #nerd to jock

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bird-slayer-brainrot · 2 months

Text

Soldier On, Come Down - Chpt. 3. - - Ineffable Husbands WW2 au human!Crowley angel!Aziraphale angst multi-chapter

1941

Angel,

I would like to apologise for not writing sooner. If things went according to plan, which, they rarely do, I shall like to compose a note to you each day. Nothing grim, of course. I would fill pages of sonnets for you on the most mundane things.

For instance, today I was completing a task and I stopped for a moment two miles north of the camp to watch the sun set. My first thought was of how beautiful it was. My second thought was of you. I confess, I think of the night you told me you loved me often, and how the next morning you stirred beside me. I thought how there was no sky to match the beauty of the blue in your eyes in the early morning sun.

I wish you had seen it, angel. It brings me comfort to know you may now be looking at the same sky as me, and in the miles and miles between us, we are still connected underneath the sky.

I hope that you think of me too

Yours,

A.J. Crowley

Angel,

It has been too long since I last heard from you. Longer since I saw you or held you in my arms. Do not believe for a second that the time has made me forget your touch. Or your face. Or your scent. You are as clear in my mind as they day we met. I do not believe I could forget you if I tried.

I will not go into detail about the front, as I have limited time and space to tell you everything I wish to say. And, I do not think you would like it. So instead I should tell you now that I am well, angel.

Please write me. I love you. I ache for you.

A.J. Crowley

Aziraphale,

I am sure by now that you have heard news of what is happening on the front. I made quick to write you this, trading duties with the Staff Sergeant for pen and paper. I hope this letter finds you even if you do not reply. I do not expect anything of you, angel, and I suspect there is a good reason you cannot return my letters. Nonetheless, I write to you because I want to. Because I love you. I love you.

I hope you are well. We hear news of England in pieces. I will not begin to lecture you on your safety because I do not believe you would find it funny, but I do hope you are staying safe. Are safe.

I have hesitated writing this because I did not want to fill you with empty promises. But we have been apart for too long and the weight of not giving you a promise to hold on to weighs to heavy on me. This war will end, sooner or later, and I will come back to you, angel. I will come back to you.

Your Crowley

1939

Angels were. as a rule, quite adept at sensing positive intentions. Crowley had sent Aziraphale a note asking him to meet for dinner at the pub they regularly patronized that evening. When he entered in, slightly out of breath from the walk, he could tell almost immediately that something was off.

Anathema and Crowley were engaged in what seemed to be a heated debate. Aziraphale decided to wait near the bar, hoping he hadn't been spotted yet. But as he sat down, Anathema appeared beside him.

"Hello Aziraphale." she said politely. Aziraphale noticed that her cheeks were flushed.

"Anathema, hello." Aziraphale tried to say cheerfully. Anathema just nodded in response, which was unlike her. Then, she spun on her wall and walked out of the bar.

Crowley was still seated at the table. Aziraphale took a seat hesitantly, not quite sure if he was welcome to. Crowley looked up at him then, tiredly. He didn't say anything, but smiled slightly at Aziraphale. Aziraphale knew Crowley would talk about what happened in his own time, so he didn't say anything.

Short update this week but i've been swamped with uni and getting over a bad cold so i haven't been writing as much. i will likely write another half chapter to post sometimes this week but i'll see. thank you for reading <3 i promise this is going somewhere

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magxit · 11 months

Note

Just dropped: https://twitter.com/rollingstone/status/1663660316817780745?s=46&t=Jv7EvC8oVb-dKk_gHc29yQ

I haven’t read the full thing. But kinda sad when the media gets it more so than her own fans…

We Wouldn’t Be Having This Conversation If Taylor Swift Was a Man

Publicity stunt or not, Swift can have a sleazeball summer if she damn well pleases.

ON THE FINAL night of Taylor Swift’s MetLife shows this weekend, 80,000 Swifties screamed in the swamps of New Jersey for over three hours. They wore outfits from every era — tinsel fringe dresses, serpent arm cuffs, and heart-shaped sunglasses. I saw countless faces in cowboy hats similar to the emoji — only these cowboys were sobbing uncontrollably while eating foot-long hotdogs. And the bracelets! They were all wearing beaded bracelets coded in Swiftian lyrics, trading them in the parking lot like Deadheads swapping grilled cheeses. (Take my advice: do not try to pay for the bracelets. They will look at you like you’re from outer space.)

It’s hard to believe that while this magical Eras tour is happening — and while Swift is somehow reaching previously-unimaginable heights of popularity, surpassing even the ludicrous highs of 2015 — she is also experiencing a backlash from some corners of the Swiftie community over her supposed new boyfriend, the 1975’s Matt Healy.

Their sentiments were best summed up in an open letter on Twitter using the hashtag #SpeakUpNow (named after Swift’s upcoming re-recording of her 2010 album), which states that Healy’s many controversies “deeply trouble” them. “From engaging in racist remarks, making offensive jokes, and admitting to watching degrading pornography in which people of color are being humiliated and assaulted, his actions contribute to the perpetuation of hate, stereotypes, and objectification, which targets and hurts some people from the Jewish, Black, Chinese, Hawaiian, Inuit, LGBTQ+ communities, as well as women.”

The statement refers to the derogatory comments Healy made about the rapper Ice Spice on The Adam Friedland Show podcast in February and the questionable apology he delivered onstage last month. Fans raised eyebrows when Swift recruited the rapper for her “Karma” remix last week, and on Monday, Healy finally addressed the controversy in a New Yorker profile that only exacerbated the issue. He explained that the whole thing “doesn’t actually matter” and that the backlash he received was merely virtue signaling: “It’s just people going, ‘Oh, there’s a bad thing over there, let me get as close to it as possible so you can see how good I am,’” he said. “And I kind of want them to do that, because they’re demonstrating something so base level.”

If you didn’t catch this quote aggregated on the internet about 137 times (you probably had better things to do than scroll Twitter and hustle children for their handmade bracelets), you aren’t missing much. This is all part of Healy’s artistry: an intricate, tangled web of bits intended to rile you up and piss you off. This is the guy who eats raw meat onstage, gives Nazi salutes, and delivers intelligent observations like, “I’m obsessed with my dick for some reason.” Stupid Shit is his brand. Are we really supposed to take anything he says seriously?

I’m not here to answer that, but I am here to tell you that none of it is Taylor’s problem. For the last 17 years, we’ve held this woman responsible for the actions of men she chooses to spend time with, and it’s time to stop. It would be fair to criticize her for walking out of Electric Lady with the ghost of Pol Pot or wondering why her dad and Matt Lauer are grooving out to her performance of “22.” But this is just a hot sleazeball who wants Oasis back together (I don’t know about you, but I’ve dated a lot of guys who fit that description), and it’s up to Taylor to spend her time as she pleases.

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happi-tree · 6 months

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dust to dust (tell me i am good enough)

“Does it ever get easier?” She asks, voice hoarse and low (you are used to this from her) and hesitant and very quiet (you are not used to this).

“What?” You ask, a knee-jerk reaction, overcome with shock that she would ask anything of you after everything you’ve done.

“Th- ugh, never mind, it doesn’t matter,” Her gaze drops to the pouch in her hands, fingers fiddling with its thick, plasticky edges, pinching at the places where it’s sealed and watching the last stubborn dregs of blood shy away from the pressure she applies.

“I wish I could tell you it does, Scary."

Or: When newly-Turned Scary starves herself from blood to the point of illness, it's up to Terry to help her recover and help her gain her footing in the new, monstrous world in which she now finds herself.

ao3

Happy Dndads Halloween Week, lovebirds! Here's my fic for day 1: vampires. It's part of a supernatural au that @kaseyskat and @llumimoon masterminded alongside me, and I'm really excited to post more about it in the coming days. Hope you enjoy!

The silence between the two of you stretches like a rubber band, chafes like an ill-fitting starched shirt. Discomfort is familiar company, though, so you allow it to settle on your shoulders and pretend the way that her glassy, red-pupiled eyes stare through you doesn’t make you want to shatter the silence.

You’ve barged into her life enough, you think, you mourn. You’re always mourning something, been mourning since you were thirteen and it never stopped.

But this isn’t about you. This is about her, the young girl that’s pushed herself up awkwardly to sit, still clutching one of the many drained pouches you brought for her. So you wait as stolen color begins to warm her pale skin, as her eyes seem to gain some lucidity.

She swallows, clears her throat, and you reach for another blood pouch, but before you can grasp it, she speaks.

“Does it ever get easier?” She asks, voice hoarse and low (you are used to this from her) and hesitant and very quiet (you are not used to this).

“What?” You ask, a knee-jerk reaction, overcome with shock that she would ask anything of you after everything you’ve done.

She looks so small like this, you think for the millionth time since she invited you through the doorway in a blood-starved haze, propped up against the headboard of her bed and tangled in pastel bed sheets. Her dyed hair falls slowly from where she has hastily tied it back, ratty tee shirt and bright pink athletic shorts swamping her malnourished frame.

“I wish I could tell you it does, Scary,” You say to her, blundering on and overstepping anyway, a habit passed down but not inherited. You can feel the weight of her new-moon eyes on you, hear the way her slightly-tremoring hands pause.

“Oh,” She says, and that one syllable, soft and fear-edged, holds denial-anger-bargaining- depression-acceptance fifty times over, its very own Atlas upholding a life made much heavier than before. You know this because you have uttered it yourself, the same tone coloring your newly-unliving throat, a few years younger than her, and here its ghost is resurrected before you. Oh.

“After a while, you adjust to it,” You reassure, “become desensitized to it, in a way. The newness wears off and eventually, it’s your new normal, but it never gets easier.”

You sigh, turning to look at her. “You can’t stop sensing the life in people, and you can’t stop wanting to take it for your own. It’s your nature now, and you can’t -” the words get stuck in your throat as you see her hands start to tremble again.

You’re unsure if it’s the right move, but you rest an artificially-warm hand atop her corpse-cold one. She doesn’t move to hold it, but she doesn’t push you away either. Her fringe obscures her eyes, and her mouth is drawn into a taut line, as if she’s trying to stop it from wavering.

“Scary, look at me, please, this is important,” You say, you beg, squeezing her hand once. She lifts her head, one eye still covered by magenta-ebony, but the other pierces into you. Good.

“You can’t keep fighting yourself like this. Your mom was worried sick, and even though I’m used to this, I was terrified when she called me. I’m sorry you weren’t given the time to be a regular kid with a normal rebellious phase-”

“- It’s not a phase, Terry,” She scoffs halfheartedly, and it brings a smile to your face.

“Not if you don’t want it to be,” You agree. “But I need you to promise me something. I need you to take care of yourself, okay? It’s hard, and it’s gross, and it feels bad sometimes, I know, but I need you to keep going. For your mom, for your friends.” For me, you think selfishly.

“I - I don’t want to keep killing things,” She admits, voice lowered to keep it from wobbling, and it feels like something you aren’t supposed to hear. Scary is a fortress of a girl, and it worries you that going this long without has atrophied her walls where they should be unforgiving.

You need to treat this moment with care, and a voice that sounds like your mother’s bounces around in your brain as you attempt to tow the line between empathy and care and pity.

“You won’t,” You say, just barely cutting off an oh, honey from the beginning. “Not right now. Maybe you will eventually -” Scary turns a shade paler and you squeeze her hand again. “But I would never ask that of you. There are other ways. I can handle it for now, if you’d like. Or your new friend would probably be more than willing to help.”

Scary shifts on the mattress. “Normal? Uh, yeah, he has already, actually, but I’ve never told him anything and I don’t know how he knows but he’s never asked me about it and it kinda weirds me out-”

“He’s an Oak kid. They have a habit for sniffing things out,” You say, lips curling at your own joke. “He’s a Good Person, they’re nice folks.”

“You seem… really weirdly certain about that.” Scary notes, question implicit.

“I know his father and uncle,” You say, smile nostalgia-tinged. “Childhood friends, actually, we go way back. Small world, huh?”

“Huh,” She says.

“Yeah,” You agree.

You remember the times you had neglected yourself when you were younger, starving until your vision fuzzed and your stomach panged and you could barely stand. You remember the way that the twins had fussed over you like mother hens. Sparrow would push blood at you while urging you not to drink too much lest you make yourself sick, hold you with his warmth surrounding you and his nose buried into the side of your neck as if reminding himself by scent that you were still there. Lark would stand guard at the threshold, pacing restlessly until you gained your strength back, gold-tinted eyes darting between you and the world beyond, hands balled into clawed fists, protective and vigilant.

You don’t have the nose that they do, but based solely on the snippets of anecdotes Scary’s mentioned, you wouldn’t be surprised if the two of them were packmates by now. The thought fills you with warm satisfaction.

You weren’t lying when you said that Normal is a Good Person - in both senses of the phrase. She needs more people in her corner, you think, and Normally Oak-Swallows-Garcia is a decent place to start.

She moves her hand out from underneath yours, only to brace herself on the mattress to sit up more fully. Her deathly pallor is a little less ashy, her expression a little less open, more lucid. Bloodshot eyes dart to the maroon-filled pouches beside you, and you wordlessly hand her another before she asks.

Scary raises a single slitted brow as she takes it from your grasp, and her hands are still far too cold for your liking, but at least their shaking has subsided.

She carefully pokes a straw through the packaging and sips, eyes going wide and dark before pulling away with a small cough.

Blood hunger is a delicate balance, you have long since learned. The longer you starve yourself, the harder it is to show restraint once you start to feed again.

She takes another small, delicate sip, and clears her throat.

“So,” she starts, “Mom doesn’t… know yet, right? About you.”

The implicit why haven’t you told her, what are you doing, why would you do this to her go unspoken but not unheard, accentuated by her pointed glare.

(The overgrown child in your mind replies to the latter with two can play at that game, and you quash him down with prejudice.)

You exhale. “No,” You reply.

Veronica is a lovely woman. Too lovely for you, many would argue, including yourself. Beautiful and kind and hardworking and supportive, she is a spot of light for you, who cannot walk in the sun.

She’s also remarkably headstrong and stubborn, you know. You see it in her daughter, immortalized in her blood: the strength of her gaze, the arch of her brow, the set of her shoulders, the calculated carelessness of her words.

However, Veronica Marlowe is also human - and one unaware of the second world that lies atop (or perhaps beneath) her own, like a second shadow or perhaps a mirage. The world you now inhabit, though you hadn’t always.

The world her daughter now inhabits, unbeknownst to her.

Though San Dimas is… safe, for your kind (and you are forever grateful to the Wilsons for that), part of you still remains a little boy, rabbit-hearted and afraid of how others might react to you. Honesty and vulnerability had never been your strong suits, but that is no excuse for your cowardice.

“I kept… trying to bring it up,” you start, glancing just to the right of her face, unable to bear the full weight of her gaze. “It’s difficult, trying to tell someone that you’re undead, that you won’t age the way they do.”

Scary looks a bit pale.

“I was going to tell her, of course! That’s always been the plan, once I… knew that it would last. That I would be a more permanent fixture in your lives. I had planned on telling both of you, but then -”

“Then,” she finishes, her frown deepening, taking a small sip from her blood bag.

“Yeah,” You reply, feeling rather helpless. “Then.”

“Hey,” Scary says, and you look up at her.

“You’re not, like… two hundred years old or something, right?”

The question shocks a burst of laughter out of you.

“God. Fuck no, absolutely not. No, I’m not that much older than I look. Oh, ew, I’m sorry if you thought-” She’s smiling, just a little, and a lopsided bit of fang pokes out from between closed lips.

“Okay, thank fuck. Not that I don’t still hate you for, like, getting with my mom, or whatever, ugh,” she grumbles, which is fair, you think. “Just, like, how -”

“Thirty-nine,” you answer for her. “I’m thirty-nine years old.”

“You’re younger than her?” She asks, bewildered. “I mean, I had kinda figured, since you… y’know,” she says, gesturing a hand at her own face. “Initially. But that was before I knew any of this.”

You simply nod in response.

Scary looks like she wants to ask something more, then disguises it with another sip at the pouch. She looks down, considering, and you wait.

“How,” she says, voice coming out strangled. A pause. “How young were you? Wh… when it happened?”

Something in you softens. Or breaks. It’s hard to tell, these days.

“Thirteen,” You tell her.

Her gaze snaps up to meet yours.

“Really?”

“Really.”

A thousand things push with each pulse of your stolen heartbeat, beating against your ribcage and rising up your throat.

I know what it’s like, to be young and angry and seeking a darkness to match the one inside your head. I get it. I can help you. You will get past this, but it’s hard. It’s so terribly, horribly hard, growing up when you know that you’ll never grow old, and it sucks shit, and I’m sorry. You’re not alone. You have me, if you invite me, but I would never ask that of you.

Her eyes bore into your own, and you wonder if she can somehow read your thoughts.

Maybe she doesn’t need to.

“When you tell her -” she sighs, growls to herself, looks up again.

“When you tell her, do you think we could tell her together?”

You smile, and it’s a fanged, monstrous thing.

“Yeah,” You respond, and though you haven’t fed yet today, you feel oddly warm. “I’d like that.”

Your smile is returned, fanged and monstrous and headstrong and bright.

“I thought you might.”

#YEEHAW i made it on time!!! barely!!!#anyway um. i started writing this before terry uh. gestures at current canon. yeah 😭😭😭#felt very cathartic to finish though!!!#happi scribbles #fic #dndads #dndads halloween week 2023 #vampires #bat and wolf #<- tag for my fics for this week ehehe :]c #anyway. hope y'all like it lmk what you think!!!

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swampstew · 1 month

Note

Hey, Raven! Hope this week's been good to ya! 🥰

6, 13, 14, 20, and 22 for the ask game, if ya please!

Hiya Cas ~ I Am Swamped with work rn and I am dying for Friday. Literally Overwhelmed. I wish I was still an hourly employee cause then I get overtime or sum >,<

6. What are you excited for? Personally, the OP chapter when Eustass Kid makes his return no cap. Professionally, moving up quickly at my new job considering the shit I'm juggling rn and/or someone else to hire me and pay me more!

13. What are you gonna do Saturday night? This Saturday, probably the same thing I do most Saturday nights, try to get high as hell take over the world...or Stardew Valley. Or make my boyfriend take me somewhere fun. So many possibilities now that I gave it more thought.

14. What are you going to spend money on next? Ngl...probably something merch related...I have a sickness, its called caring too much. Or does ordering fast food for lunch earlier count? I WANT to spend money on picking up a new hobby I'll try for 5 minutes. Wood burning, ceramics, and glass blowing have been swirling around my brain recently.

20. Are you starting to realize anything? The years keep coming and they don't stop coming and they don't stop coming and they don't stop coming and they don't stop coming

Time flies, do whatever the fuck you want.

22. Would you ever want to swim with sharks? So fucking much!!!!!!!!! I feel like I could totally do it but might pee myself irl. I've done it before accidentally, didn't really understand I was trying to befriend and pet a baby bull shark...be kind, I was 6.

Make me admit stuff! 🧐

#raven answers #wyvernslovecake #ask game #eustass kid #i would totally swim with sharks if given the opportunity #i've swam with manatees. snakes. and gators before #oh and turtles #fun times

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jedi-luca · 2 years

Text

Avenger Lane Chapter Three

Summary: You and your wife Quinn move your family outside of New York City to Avenger Lane; a small private suburbia. There you face your toughest obstacle of your marriage. Will your marriage with Quinn be strong enough when a certain redheaded beauty captures your attention?

Parings: Quinn Fabray x G!P Reader / eventual Natasha x G!P Reader

Warnings: Smut in this chapter!

Word Count: 10,594

A/N: Originally this was like 4k words, but since I didn't post last week I figured I'd make it extra long for you guys. Let me know what y’all think and drop a review 😅

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Avenger Lane

Chapter Three: Angel

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

Natasha turned from the closed curtains to her phone that rang on her nightstand.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Tasha.”

“Bruce? Where are you calling from?” She questioned furrowing her brows looking at the foreign number.

“I dropped my phone in the lake.” He sighed. “I was trying to grab a specimen and I fell in.”

“Okay.” She said, trying not to laugh at the mental image in her head of Bruce falling in the lake.

“I’m at the store now trying to get a new phone but they need your authorization which is ridiculous considering I’m the one that pays for it!” He yelled at the employee.

“Bruce calm down, stop yelling at the employee and give them the phone.” The redhead rolled her eyes before rattling off to the employee before they handed it back to Bruce.

“Thanks.” He sighed feeling his frustrations start to dwindle.

“You’re welcome. So is that the only reason you’re calling me? I haven’t heard from you in a while and you call me to help you get a new phone?”

“I’m sorry it’s just I’ve been swamped out here.”

“I thought that’s why you have Betty?” She countered.

“Tasha, come on don’t start.”

“I wasn’t aware I was starting anything.”

Bruce sighed into the phone. “I have to go.”

“Of course you do.” She chuckled before hanging up the phone.

She sighed she wasn’t angry. She wasn’t sad. Truthfully she nothing’ed him. Truthfully she was biding her time, and he knew it too. They were both biding their time. She sighed, staring up at the ceiling; thinking back to the events that led her to first meet him.

Natasha's modeling career never dwindled because of her looks she was black listed. One day the modeling agency lost its CEO, the very one that had climbed her way to the top after finding Natasha. Unfortunately a man was put in her place.

She remembers the day he called her to his office. He had told her that her visa was almost up and that he could finally get her citizenship. IF and only IF she slept with not him but a competitor of his, of course Natasha immediately said no. He begged her to reconsider and she told him his most hated word ‘No.’.

Before the end of the week was over no one would hire her. No one. Not even smaller modeling agencies. He took away her career and her chance at citizenship.

That’s when she was sitting in a coffee shop crying because she had to video call her family and tell them their chances of coming to the states was slim to none unless she could think of something else. Dreykov had already reported her to Immigration and she was dodging them left and right. She had her hands against her face when she felt a small tap on her shoulder.

“Hi, I’m sorry to bother you, it's just that I overheard your phone call.”

“You understand Russian?” She furrowed her brows.

“Well bits and pieces I spent a year in Moscow once for research purposes. My name is Doctor Bruce Banner.” He smiled awkwardly before gesturing to the chair in front of her,

She nodded.

He sat down quickly earning glances from the other patrons around the cafe. He placed his coffee down and set the other in front of her.

“Thank you.” She whispered.

“I heard what your boss did. I am so sorry. That’s terrible!”

She nodded.

“This may be crazy, absolutely insane but there is a way for you to get citizenship and still help your family.”

She looked up while studying him. “Like what?”

“Well the easiest way would be marriage.”

Natasha scoffed, rolling her eyes at him of course this is what he wants all men are the same he’ll probably ask her to sleep with him too.

“Oh no it’s not like that at all. I really just want to help you. I-I’ve never done anything-“ he looks around before whispering. “Illegal before.”

“Why would you want to help me? What’s in it for you?” She questioned him.

“Nothing is in it for me!” He said quickly.

She raised her brow at him.

“Okay so I…” he cleared his throat. “It’ll make me sound very shallow, but I recently got out of a relationship I thought would go to distance.” He sighed and took a sip from his cup. “Anyway I have a lot of events I have to go to where I basically kiss rich peoples asses until they give me money for my science projects.” He chuckled. “Betty- my ex will be at those events and I don’t-“

“You want her to be jealous.” Natasha added,

“Yes!” He apologized to a glaring woman next to their table.

“So I’ll be the trophy wife?” She raised her brow.

“Yup basically. You’re gorgeous. Betty would rage, and all those rich bureaucrats will be shoving money in my hands just for a chance to talk with you. Plus I’m pretty sure there is a way for me to sponsor your family as well.”

“Can I think about it?” She asked furrowing her brows.

“Oh yeah of course. Of course take as long as you need.” Bruce stood before taking his wallet out and handing her a card. “Call me. Let me know what you think.”

Needless to say Natasha with little to no options broke down a couple days later and called Bruce.

“I’ll do it.”

“That’s-“

“Ground rules; we are not actually a couple, and we will not be having sex together.”

“Of course, of course!”

Within a week the two learned everything they could about one another before

she and Bruce tied the knot. The ceremony was brief and through the court. She moved right in with him, and he immediately got her citizenship. Even petitioned for her family to come out, and all she had to do was be the eye candy on his arm.

Every Friday she’d be in a new dress he’d insist on buying for her. Freshly out of the spa. Skin supple and dewy. It was almost like her modeling days. Except there were no cameras and she was helping Bruce not only make Betty green with jealousy, but helped him rake in thousands.

It wasn’t until about a year into the fake relationship that she started noticing how well they worked together. Sure it wasn’t love, but one night during one of their normal Friday gala events. She found herself attracted to him. He was doing everything right. He got a nice suit, haircut and freshly shaved. Made good conversation points and got people to laugh. He was envied and so that night as they danced to the band she kissed him. Not a ‘for show’ kiss and actual kiss.

To this day she still regrets that damned kiss. Because it led her down a dead end road with Bruce. She knew Betty was all he wanted. She knew better than to catch feelings. The moment she let her guard down she noticed a change in him. Didn’t take her long to figure out he was with Betty. Since he did a piss poor job of his infidelity the redhead always lets him know how much she regrets ever meeting him.

She recalled their biggest argument when she confronted him.

“Natasha, come on you always knew this was about Betty.”

“Then why lead me on?” She yelled.

“I didn’t! I thought maybe you just wanted to have some fun.” Bruce admits.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Tasha, we got married so you can become an American citizen and bring your family back. That was the reason and my reasons were to-“

“Flaunt me off.”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “I have to go.”

“Of course you do.”

“Look I’m sorry you thought we could be something. I am. Maybe I shouldn’t have kissed you back, but let’s just get through these next couple years please.” With a huff he walked away.

She only has another 6 months left until she and Bruce could finally go their separate ways.

Natasha was brought back from her memories hearing a car door shut and kids in the background. She looked out the window expecting The Barton’s, but to her surprise she saw a woman who looks a lot like Quinn with who she is assuming are your daughters.

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You and Quinn wake up with a jump hearing your doorbell ring and Ollie barking.

“Shit it’s Frannie with the girls! You go downstairs, I'll change and air out the room.”

You nodded before kissing her lips and jumping out of bed. You jumped in a fresh set of briefs shorts and a shirt before running downstairs.

“Ollie enough.” You chide to which he obeys.

You opened the door smiling as your youngest squealed with glee. “Hey Franny, come on in.” You hug her before stepping aside for your sister in law to walk in who's looking at you with a knowing smirk. “There’s my princess!” You lift Beth up, squeezing her tightly as she giggled. You barely caught Finley who wiggled out of Frannie’s arms and jumped into yours. “Papa!” she squealed.

“Hey Ols!” Beth smiled brightly, earning kisses from her pup.

“I am in love with this place!” Frannie looked around.

“Princess.” Quinn smiled, kissing Beth’s cheek. “Hey sis.” Quinn spoke, hugging her sister.

“Glad you two had time for some lovin’.” Frannie smirked.

“How does she always know?!” You huffed, flailing your arms looking at your wife.

“Your shirt is backwards, Y/N.” Frannie gave you the infamous Fabray brow, slapping your ass. Making Beth giggle.

“Oops.” You chuckled, handing Quinn, Finley before turning your shirt around.

“Mama!” She giggled as Quinn blue raspberries against her stomach.

“Oh my sweet angel.” Quinn cooed.

“Show me around, or are you too tired from your activities?” Frannie grinned.

“Shut up.” Quinn rolled her eyes before leading her sister through the house.

“Have you eaten lunch kiddo?” You asked Beth, pushing her hair out of her face.

“Hmhm.” She shook her head negatively before spinning around on the bar stool.

“Want me to cook up your favorite?” You grinned.

“Tacos and arroz?” Beth perked up.

“If that’s what my Princess wants.” You winked taking out the ground beef.

“I hungy, I hungy!” Finley cheered from her high chair.

“Alright I’ll get started on lunch. Beth, you wanna go upstairs, wash up and see your new room.” You grinned looking up at the ceiling.

Beth gasped before taking off in a sprint upstairs Ollie hot on her heels.

“OH MY GOD!”

“DON’T TAKE THE LORD’S NAME IN VAIN, BETH!” Frannie and Quinn both shouted from somewhere in the house. You’re guessing Quinn’s office.

“VAIN BETHY!” Finley shouted playfully trying to repeat after her mother and aunt. She was such a sponge and a repeater. You had to watch everything you say in front of her. Once you said ‘aw nutz’ and she wouldn’t stop saying it until your ears were bleeding.

“Whatcha got cookin’ good lookin’?” Quinn asked, seeing you taking out ingredients.She gently hugged you from behind laying her chin on your shoulder.

“Tacos and rice.”

“Hmmm… Guac though?” Frannie kinked her brow sitting next to Finley.

“You know it.” You grinned.

“Put me down for 4 tacos please.” Frannie smirked.

“Is it okay if I-”

“Taco salad?” You grinned, moving to show Quinn you already had her lettuce out.

“You’re the best wusband / hife a girl could ask for.” She smirked. “Beer?” she asked.

“Duhhh!” You smirked, slapping her ass as she bent down to take the beer out of the reach in cooler near the bar.

“Duhhhh! Duhhh!” Finley began repeating.

“Parrot is back.” Frannie said, covering Finley’s mouth with her palm to keep her from saying the word over and over.

You sighed, shaking your head at your giggling babbling baby girl. You grabbed an avocado, slicing it before setting pieces on her plastic plate.

“Avi!” Finley squealed, clapping her hands before taking tiny bites. “Hmm Avi.”

“That’s right baby girl, that's an avocado.” You grinned.

“Avicadi.” She nodded, squinting with a toothy smile.

“Ugh she’s so cute.” Frannie squeezed her causing her to whine. Your daughter doesn’t play when it comes to food.

“No!” Finley, huffed wanting to cry.

“Okay, okay, letting go.” Frannie huffed.

“Just like her mama.” Frannie shook her head looking at Quinn who shrugged.

“Don’t touch us when we’re eating.” The younger sister laughed. “Where’s Beth?”

“Checking out her new room.”

“Aw Y/N, I told you I wanted to be there when she saw it.”

“Saw what?” Frannie asked

“Y/N and I surprised her with a new bedroom suite she was eyeing at the furniture store. We fixed it up this yesterday.” Quinn stood lightly glaring at you on her way upstairs.

Franny deadpanned looking at you before downing her beer with a roll of her eyes before grabbing another. You chuckled sipping your beer hearing the doorbell. Ollie barreled down the stairs barking. Looking over at the monitor on the fridge you huffed at Hammer tech. You knew you shouldn’t have agreed to the security system already in place.

“Fucking Hammer tech sucks ass.” Frannie shook her head watching you walk to the front door wiping your hands on a dishrag.

You took your wife’s hand seeing her step off the staircase, Beth close behind.

“Well hiya neighbors!” You grinned seeing Wanda and her sons, but this time her husband was with her.

“Hey Y/N!” Wanda beamed. “I made you guys a little something sweet and the boys wanted to come with me.”

“Oh great you get to meet my wife. Quinn, this is Wanda, Tommy, and Billy.” Quinn smiled at the boys before shaking Wanda’s hand.

“Y/N, Quinn, this is my husband Vis.” Wanda smiled looking up at the lanky man.

“Greetings and salutations.” Vision smiled holding a container of brownies and a smaller baggie which you can only assume is for Ollie. Vis extends his hand and you meet his hand shake before he shook Quinn’s.

“Oh hello.” Wanda smiled sweetly at Beth who peeked behind your back.

“This is our daughter Beth. She’s going to the 6th grade this year.” Quinn smiled bringing Beth to her side gently brushing her blonde locks back.

“Well you are just the prettiest thing! She looks just like you Quinn.” Wanda smiled.

“You should see this one’s mini me.” Frannie smirked walking up behind you with Finley in her arms.

“This is our daughter Finley and my sister Frannie.” Quinn smiled.

“Oh..Ohhh Vis!” Wanda whined seeing Finley’s sweet smile. “Oh I want one.”

“Oh dear.” Vis chuckled, his cheeks heating up. “You know Beth, our boys are going to the 6th grade as well. Maybe you all might be friends? This is Tommy and Billy.” The two boys smiled, waving shyly.

“I’m in the middle of cooking up some dinner. Would you all like to stay?” You gesture inside.

“We would love to have you.” Quinn nodded even though she was lying. It wasn’t anything against the family, it was just that Quinn is a private and introverted person.

“We appreciate the kind invitation, but we are actually on our way to have dinner with my brother.” Wanda says apologetically.

“Next time for sure.” Vis smiles handing you the homemade brownies.

“Well it was great meeting you all.” Wanda smiled.

You said your goodbyes before making your way back in the kitchen.

“She was super sweet.” Frannie commented, setting Finley back in her highchair. “What kind of name is Vis?”

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You woke up bright and early and figured you’d start the day off with a light jog and some lifting. You kiss Quinn’s warm cheek before leaving the house.

“On your left.” You heard a voice pant you moved to your right and suddenly a bright eyed blond man was jogging right next to you.

“Morning neighbor!” He said with a toothy grin, his baby blues gleaming in the sunlight.

“Morning Y/N!” Thor grinned, joining the other side.

“Hey what’s up Thor!” You fist bumped him as you three continued your jog.

“Steve Rogers.” The man on your left grinned. “Been meaning to come over and introduce ourselves, but my wife Peggy said it’s better to let you settle in first. We live right between Clint and Tony.”

“Haven’t met them yet, but I’m pretty sure I know where you’re at. You’re the one with the flag right?” Steve was the only one on the block who had a flag pole in his front lawn.

“Damn right.” He smiled.

“Y/N we were just jogging to my gym I was telling you about. Care to join us?” Thor gestured.

“Yeah sure I was going to do some lifting anyways.”

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The gym wasn’t far at all, just under a mile away. You text your wife through your watch letting her know where you are before stretching. Thor comes back into the gym this time with a woman by his side.

“Y/N this is my partner and your neighbor Val. She and her wife Carol and their daughter live like a house down from you.” Thor smiled.

“Right next to Wanda.” She explains. “What’s up, neighbor.” She smirked, shaking your hand.

“Nice to meet you.” You grinned.

“So are we gonna talk all day or are we doing some lifts?” Steve grinned.

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“You three are on another level.” You chuckled sitting down in their smoothie and juice lounge.

“Don’t sell yourself short. You did great work out there my friend.” Thor said, laying his large hand on your shoulder.

“How is your body to fat ratio because you're very lean.” Steve asked, noticing the defined lean cut you have going on.

“I’m not too sure. I was a Running back in highschool. Back then I had a little more meat on my bones, but after highschool I did a lot more calisthenics.”

“Oh nice! Quarterback myself.” Steve smiled.

“I was in Rugby.” Thor grinned.

“Same.” Val smirked. “Y/N we usually all work out together in the mornings here. You’re more than welcome to join us anytime.”

“Might just take you up on that.” You grinned as a waiter came up with your smoothies. “Maybe you guys can help me build some more muscle.”

“Hey hey what’s up guys how's it going?” the waiter smiled, setting the smoothies down. “Oh hi you’re new. I’m Korg!”

“Y/N.” You smiled, shaking his hand.

“Just moved here.” Thor said in between sips towards Korg.

“Welcome to ‘Revenger's Bod’! If you ever want a juice or a smoothie I’m you’re guy!”

“Thanks Korg.” You smile nodding at the smoothie.

“Anytime, well I better get back those smoothies won't make themselves.” He chuckled before walking away.

“Y/N, I have to head back home, wanna ride home? I have a golf cart.” Val smirked.

“Sounds great, thanks!”

“Great meeting you Y/N see you soon.” Steve smiled.

“Very soon we hope!” Thor smiled.

You and Val walked out getting in her golf cart.

“Thor mentioned you have a wife?” Val said as she pulled away onto the road.

“Her name is Quinn, we’ve been together since highschool.” you smile messing with the workout band around your ring finger.

“Wow, that's a long time.”

“What about you?”

“My wife Carol and I met about 5 years ago. We actually met at a widowers meeting. I lost my previous wife to cancer-”

“I’m so sorry.” You gulp.

“It’s okay she’s in a better place just like Carol's previous wife Maria. She was in a car accident. Tore Carol apart for a long time.”

“I’m sorry you both had to go through that, but at least you have each other.”

“Yeah. Maybe one night you and the family could come over for dinner?”

“Yeah of course that’d be great. Quinn and I only have one other lesbian couple we hang out with so this is nice.” You chuckled.

“Oh sweet we need more gays in this fucking lane.” Val laughed.

“Always needed.” You chuckled. “So how old is Monica?”

“She’s just about to turn 11 in a couple weeks.”

“Oh that’s awesome! Beth just turned 11 last month.”

“Bloody hell 11 years old? You had to have been-”

“We were 16 when she was born.” You nod.

She whistled. “What happened? Forgot to wrap it?” She teased.

“I definitely did not forget.” You laughed. “It must have ripped.” You shrugged.

“You know I only ever had a scare once and it was with Sigrun, my late wife. She unfortunately lost the baby due to cancer. That’s actually how we found out, and please do not say you’re sorry again.” She laughed. “It happened. She’s in a better place and I’m better having loved her and been loved by her.”

“Think you and Carol will have more kids?” You ask now, seeing Avenger’s Lane in view. You waved at an older black man who bent down to grab his newspaper.

“Uhh, I don’t know, we haven't really discussed it before. Truthfully I think I’m good. Monica is great, but I just don’t know if I can handle a baby you know?”

“It’s definitely hard but worth it.” You chuckled. “Beth, was a very chill baby, Finley is a little more wild.”

“Hi Mrs. Danvers.” a young man with two other teens with him waved ahead.

Val slowed down to a stop. “Hey Parker, this is our new neighbor Y/N Y/L/N, Y/N this is Peter Parker he lives right across the street from me with his aunt May and Uncle Happy.” She introduced you.

“Hello Mrs. Y/L/N, welcome to the burbs.” He grinned walking up to shake your hand.

“Nice to meet you Peter, please call me Y/N.” You chuckled.

“I’ll try.” He blushed. “This is my girlfriend MJ and my best friend Ned. They live right behind the block.”

“On Midnight Lane.” MJ added with a nod.

“So what are you dorks up to?” Val asked, sipping from her smoothie.

“Oh well we were just about to head to Gamers Oasis.” Ned smiled.

“What’s that?” You ask.

“Its this arcade not too far from here.” Peter explains.

“Super fun.” Ned nods.

“Super nerdy.” Val smirked, nudging Peter.

“Low key sounds amazing. I'll have to check it out one day.” You admit.

Peter and his friends smile in surprise. “You definitely should come with us some time!” Peter gasped.

“Pete, she doesn’t wanna hang out with a bunch of teenagers.” MJ laughed.

“Bu-” Peter stuttered.

“Honestly I’d love too. My wife hates video games so I end up playing online with an old friend or with my daughter.” You chuckled.

“You are so invited to join us anytime!” Peter grinned.

“Alright well you little droks be safe.” Val smirked before driving off.

“Nice kids.” You find yourself saying.

“Honestly.” Val nodded pulling into your driveway.

Your wife furrowed her brows watching you and Val from the kitchen.

“Make new friends?” Quinn smiled as you walked in.

“Yeah! Babe we finally have another lesbian couple to hang with that isn’t Santana and Brittany.”

“Seriously?” Quinn raised her brows.

“Yeah! And get this! They have a daughter who is just about to turn 11.”

“Oh my God that is perfect Y/N!” Quinn squealed. “Beth is actually going to make friends. I was so worried there wouldn’t be anyone her age here.” Quinn admitted. “So what are their names?”

“Val and Carol Danvers. Val is the one who just dropped me off. She’s also co-owners with Thor for the gym Revenger’s Bod. I also met a couple of our neighbors who live across the street. I met Steve Rogers, he's the one with the flag-” Your wife replies with a soft ‘Ohh’. “Anyway, I worked out with him, Thor and Val. Then coming in I met Peter Parker. He's the son of- Oh man forgot their names, but they live across the street too.”

“Where do Carol and Val live?” she asks, setting down a small bowl of freshly cut fruit in front of you and a sleepy Finley.

“Thanks baby.” You say pecking her cheek and eating a grape. “They live right next to Wanda.” You point towards the Maximoff residence.

“That's so awesome!” Quinn gushed, wrapping her arms around your shoulders. Her nose wrinkled. “Ew babe you stink.” She quickly tries to let go but you pull her back kissing her with a laugh as she tries to shove you away. “No Y/N you’re all sweaty!” Quinn huffed

“No papa!” FInley yelled, throwing a grape at you to protect her mother.

“I’m sorry.” You laughed, pecking your daughter's cheek.

“Go shower.” Quinn slaps your shoulder before bending down to pick up the discarded grape.

You make your way upstairs seeing Beth sleepily make her way downstairs.

“Hey sleepy head.” You grinned, kissing her cheek, inhaling her sweet scent and spearmint toothpaste.

“Ew you smell.” She groaned tiredly, shrugging away from you.

“Go shower!” Quinn shouted.

“Go chowdy!” You hear Finley echo. “It’s shower my love.” Quinn’s voice is faint as you enter your room.

You're in the middle of grabbing your clothes when a light glares in your direction. Looking at the cause you notice it’s Natasha. She just stepped out of her bathroom. You were just about to grab your clothes and walk away, but the moment she dropped her towel you were stuck. Transfixed in a way. You gasped as she slipped on her under garments realizing you just watched her get dressed like some fucking creep. You shake your head at yourself and go into the shower.

Starting your shower playlist your mind instantly drifts right back to the image of your ginger neighbor. Who you have to admit has a body that could bring anyone to their knees. She was absolutely gorgeous and sweet. You love Quinn, that is your wife, but you’re also human. You prefer to think of your wife when you masterbate. Occasionally your favorite actress, but rarely someone you know personally.

You can’t help it though. You just saw a very attractive woman derobe, and put on very sexy undergarments. You couldn’t help but think of the way her back arched as she pulled her socks up. The way her pink pussy glistened, begging to be tasted. Begging to be properly fucked.

“Ohh.” You groaned, leaning an arm against the cold tile. You close your eyes and lay your forehead on your arm letting the hot water run over you. Pumping yourself you imagined yourself tasting her as your wife rides your cock. “Fuuuck.” You pump faster, feeling your mouth water at the thought of a new taste. You haven’t had anyone but your wife. You imagine the Russian beauty would taste sweet. You wonder if she’d feel like Heaven. “That’s it baby ride daddy.” You grunt picturing her riding you like her pussy couldn’t get enough. You groan at the naked image of your neighbor slamming herself down on your cock.

You jump hearing the bathroom door open. The shower curtain opens revealing your smirking wife, and thoughts of the Russian model quickly shattered.

“Well Hello.” Quinn stepped under the warm water taking your lips with hers. You rid your thoughts of your new neighbor and enjoy the feeling of your wife against your body. Your fingers make their way under her folds feeling the warm slickness beneath your fingers. You lightly work motions against her clit as you kiss her softly. She whimpers against your touch humping into your hand.

You lift her leg up letting the head of your cock dip in her wetness; lightly rocking against one another. She dips her hips letting you inside of her with ease. Moaning, you grip her thigh before rocking into her roughly.

“Ohh fuck!” She moans trying not to be too loud. “Again.” She says rocking her hips. Digging your fingers deeper into her thighs you roughly pound into her harder and harder until she’s shaking, eyes rolling back into her head gasping for air. You pull out letting her recuperate before spinning her around and slamming back inside of her.

“That’s it.” You growl into her neck as she groans, arching into you. “Take me like a good wife.”

Her hands push against the bathroom tiles; moving her ass against you.

“That’s it baby cum inside me.” She husks looking back at you. You hump into her as you kiss her.

“Fuck.” You sigh as you feel yourself cum. Quinn’s ass moved slowly as your seed spilt down your shaft. Your chest rises up and down as you try to catch your breath. You pump softly and slowly letting every bit of you spill out.

“I came in at the right time.” Quinn sighs, turning around in your arms to face you.

“Hm.” You grunt, kissing her lips.

She grabs the rag you brought in with you. Lathering it in soap before scrubbing every inch of you.

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“How did you manage to keep the girls occupied?” You grinned while putting on your clothes.

“They’re in the middle of watching Frozen.” She smirked.

“Nice.” You slapped her ass right before she pulled up her shorts. Even though Rachel Berry would tend to give you a headache she did wonderfully in Frozen. The woman was very talented. She could always sing circles around anyone. You were certain, Quinn watched it more times than the girls did.

You never really wanted to admit it or say it out loud, but Quinn always had some weird affinity for Rachel Berry. You distinctly remember her bullying the brunette in her high school days. Sometimes she would be so cruel you would have to say something. Quinn would always chalk it up to Rachel being unbearably annoying, but you saw the way she’d look at Rachel’s legs in her short skirts. You try not to dwell on it, especially the collection Quinn has had over the years of Rachel’s movies and Broadway shows on dvd. Not to mention her albums. You feel your body tense at the thought.

“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked, noticing your change in mood.

You internally roll your eyes at how well your wife knows you. In order to save you from an unwinnable argument you sweep it under the rug. Looking up from your spot on the bed you begin putting on your shorts as you look into Natasha’s bedroom. Your thoughts drifting back to her naked body. “Oh nothing.” You turn back to smile sweetly at your wife. You push your thoughts of her possible infatuation with Berry and Natasha’s very smooth body away. “I think I’m gonna get started on the gardens-”

“Already?” Quinn furrowed her brow. “I thought we were gonna go to the flower shop this weekend and start the garden together?”

“I figured I’d go to the lumber yard. Get started on the materials first. That way everything is built and ready.” You explain grabbing your shoes.

“Oh… okay that makes sense.” She nodded as she combed her long hair. You placed your hair in a messy bun before heading down stairs.

“Papa, where go?” Finley furrowed her brow.

“I’m gonna go grab some wood my love.” You explain grabbing your wallet and keys.

“I go too.” Finley said, climbing off her tiny chair in front of her coloring book. She waddled as fast as she could to her shoes.

“No sweetheart, stay here with your mama and sister.”

“But…” Finley’s big eyes began watering and her bottom lip trembled.

“Okay.” You chuckled before she could bawl her eyes out.

You grab her go bag as Quinn comes down.

“Is daddy taking you to the lumber yard? Are you gonna be Bob the Builder?” Quinn smiled sweetly at her baby, kissing her cheeks as you placed on her shoes.

“Bob the builder mama!” Finley squealed.

“Will you bring me back some candy? Please?” Beth asked.

You nodded, lifting up your daughter, grabbing her sling.

“You sure you wanna take her?” Quinn asked.

“If I don’t you and I both know she will never stop crying until I come back.”

“She’s going to have to learn at some point Y/N.” Quinn shrugs.

“S’go papa!” Finley said, putting on her sunglasses.

“Okay but why do we have the cutest daughters in the world?!” Quinn growled, lifting Finley up peppering her face with kisses until the smaller child whined.

“Alright alright calm down, it's just your mother.” You chided FInley lifting her up in your arms. “We’ll be back later.” You say bending down to peck Beth’s head and stand up to peck Quinn’’s lips FInley follows suit kissing Quinn’s cheek.

“I’ll see you two cuties later.” Quinn smiled.

You winked before walking out going to your truck. You were just about to put FInley in her car seat when you heard her say “Hi!” Waving at someone behind you.

You turn in your spot seeing Natasha looking at her bike. Finley grunted, wanting to go meet the redhead. You smiled at her as she waved at your daughter. You walk over putting your daughter down as she whines in your arms.

“Hiya Y/N.” She smiled before looking down at your mini me. “Well who is this cutie pie? Are you Y/N Jr?” She smirked as the toddler smiled, lifting her arms up for Natasha to lift her up.

“No! Finley!” She giggled.

“Hello Finley, I’m Natasha.”

“Nata-Natassaa.” FInley said furrowing her brows.

The redheaded beauty laughed and said “It’s okay my friends call me Nat.”

“Nat.” Finley smiled, pointing her small finger against Natasha’s chest.

“Hey Natasha.” You smile. “What’s going on with your bike?”

“Please call me Nat,-”

“Nat!” Finley beamed; her tiny hands holding Natasha’s cheeks. The redhead smiled, bringing them down with a soft peck to each hand. “I’m not too sure what is wrong with it. I usually have Tony look at it but he’s been out of town for the last week.”

“Mind if I-”

“Be my guest.” She chuckled, gesturing to the bike.

“Damn this is a nice bike.” You bit your lip realizing what you said. “Oh no-”

“Damn!” Finley shouted. “Damn! Damn!”

“Fin! Stop!” You hiss quickly looking over at your home as you dig in your pockets.

“Damn!” Finley shouted once more with a giggle.

You rip open her packet of fruit snacks and stuff a few in her mouth.

“Amn!” She mumbled, humming at the sweet taste of candy.

Natasha chuckles at the relief on your face as you sigh.

“She’s a parrot and a sponge these days. If Quinn heard that I’m in deep- well you know.” You shake your head turning the engine over. “An electric Harley.” You chuckled.

“Bike ride papa bike ride!” Finley clapped her hands still in Natasha’s arms.

“Your mother would kill me.” You grunt as you open her engine cover. You grinned finding the issue. “It needs some new dry clutch parts, and a software reset. I’m going to the lumber yard now, I can drop by a parts store on the way back.”

“Thank you so much Y/N.” She grins. “Mind if I tag a long?”

“The more the merrier. “ You chuckle trying to hide the fact that this was really your alone time to decompress. You love going to the lumber yard. You remember going with your grandpa when you were a child.

You push Natasha’s bike back inside her garage as she lowers the door and you both make your way to the truck.

You take Finley from her arms and she begins to whine. “Hey come on now Fin don’t start.”

“Natty too! Not you papa!” She huffed pushing you.

“Natasha, doesn’t know how to work this contraption. I barely know how to work this thing.” You say placing her in her car seat. She’s glaring at you and crossing her arms.

Natasha giggles at your daughter’s frustration with you making the toddler forget why she was upset in the first place. She smiled and giggled along with the redhead.

You both chuckled at her ability to quickly forget things as you get in the truck. You turn it over and before you can even pull out of the driveway your phone dings. Your truck being newer of course reads out the text much to your dismay.

“One new message from The Old Ball and Chain”

“First of all who just got in your truck and second I can not believe you used a bad word around Finley Y/N you know how bad-“

“Jesus.” You cut off the text and quickly text her back with a huff. “Sorry about that.” You roll your eyes as you back out of the driveway.

“That’s alright.” She chuckled. “Does Quinn not know what you titled her as on your phone?”

“Nope.” You chuckled awkwardly.

“Papa!” Finley said from the backseat.

“Hmm?” You hum looking at her through the rear mirror.

“Shaggy!” She huffed.

You move your thumb on the steering wheel turning on the stereo as some pop song comes on.

“No! Shaggy!”

You sighed before clicking on your Bluetooth and clicking on Finley’s playlist. Natasha furrowed her brows as the song came pouring out of the speakers.

“Is that Angel by Shaggy?” She couldn’t hold back her snort.

“Don’t you judge my baby, it's a good song!” You laughed.

She grinned turning around hearing your daughter sing out the words.

“Shawty, you're my angel”

“She’s so freaking cute.” She chuckled, turning back around.

You came to a stop at the sign when an old firebird roared to a stop as well; music blaring. The two in the front seat waved with a smile and Natasha waved right back.

“That’s Peter Quill and Gamora. They live across the street from us at the end of the block. Quill is always blasting music. He’s a DJ for the local radio station, and Gamora is a bounty hunter.”

“That’s a badass woman right there.” You nod to Quill and Gamora as you both drive past one another. You look through the rear view mirror to see Finley bobbing her head to the song on the stereo.

“Okay but what’s up with this song? I was thinking Disney songs?”

You laughed looking at your daughter through the mirror. “Yeah you know it’s kind of a funny story. I’ve always been a fan of this song and Bombtastic. Well I played Angel so many times for Quinn she must have had Finley listen to it when she was pregnant with her. Anyway one night Finley would not stop crying. Quinn and I played some music just to drown her out for a bit. Angel comes on and suddenly she just stops crying. After a couple plays she went right to sleep.”

“You’re kidding.” Her green eyes wide with amusement before looking behind her back at Finley who sang along with the song.

“Nope.”

“Wow, that is- very interesting.” She chuckled.

Your phone began playing a familiar tune. “Mind if I take this?” You ask Natasha.

“It’s Ganpa!” Finley cheered hearing the familiar ring as well.

“Of course you don’t have to ask!” Natasha smiled with a crinkle in her brow.

You smiled back before answering.

“Hey pop!” You grinned.

“Hey kiddo!”

“Pop Pop!” Finley squealed.

“How are my sweet babies!?” Your mom chimed in.

“Hey mom!” You chuckled.

“GG!” Finley shouted.

“How is my little Finny today?!” Your mom cooed.

“Goooood!” Finley sang.

“Good Finley GG and Pop Pop love you!” Your mom says sweetly.

“Lub you gama lub you gandpa.” Finley surprises you.

“We love you Finley!” Your dad says.

“She just said a full sentence!” Your mom cheered. “Go Finley! I can’t wait to squeeze you and kiss you!” Your mom squeals. “Where is Beth and Quinn?” She asks.

“There at home I left for the lumber yard.” You explain.

“Aw Y/N you should wait, I'll be there in a month!” Your dad sighs.

“It’s okay dad, I've done it before. Besides, you're coming up here to relax and visit. Not work.”

“You know you’re father Y/N. You should have waited.”

You opened your mouth but decided against arguing with your parents. Especially with your neighbor next to you, to which she was holding in a laugh. She found it endearing. It made her think of her parents.

“Y/N I can’t remember, did you and Quinn choose the one with the pool or the big backyard with the beautiful tree in the front?”

“The second one. Quinn and I were just worried that Finley would fall in when we weren’t around.” You explain.

“That’s exactly why your father and I didn’t get a pool.”

“That and it’s crazy expensive for the upkeep alone!” Your father bellows.

“Y/N remember the time your cousin jumped on you in the pool and you refused to go near large bodies of water for years?!” Your mom laughs.

“It was traumatizing! I could have died!” You yelled. “Why do you guys act like I didn’t almost die?!”

“Oh don’t be so dramatic your grandmother saved you.” Your mom huffs.

Exasperated, you grumbled to Natasha. “I really did almost die.”

“Anyway chief, we just wanted to check in. See how the move in was. Did you sort out that mess with the movers?”

“I did, we moved in a couple days ago. Everything is already put away.”

“Good!” Your mom says.

“Pop pop!”

“What is it Fin?” You can practically see your father smile. He was nuts for your daughters.

Your daughter began babbling. “Slow down sweetheart.” You chuckled; she only did that when she was super excited and had so much to say. However it also makes her fussy when you don’t understand her. Your dad already knows this.

“Really?” He gasped listening to his granddaughter.

“Yeah gampa!” She said, shaking her head.

“Well you keep being a good girl and me your GG will be there in one whole month!”

“Yayyyyyy!” Finley cheered.

“Alright sweetheart we’ll talk later.” Your parents say in unison.

“Alright love you guys.”

“We love you too Y/N.” Your mom says.

“Bye gampa bye GG!” Finley shouted.

“Bye bye my sweet baby girl!” Your mom cooed. “Send Quinn our love and give Bethy a big ole kiss from us!”

“Alright Mom.”

You both say I love you before you hang up the phone.

“Sorry about that.” You chuckled as the music began playing again.

“Don't apologize, I understand.” She chuckled thinking of her crazy family.

“Yeah? Your parents crazy too?” You grinned.

“Oh God yes, probably crazier than yours. They’re very… Russian.”

“Maybe we can have a competition one day on whose crazier.” You chortled.

“Pretty sure you would lose.” She pursed her lips with a nod.

You laughed back into a parking spot. You look back to see Finley already getting out of her car seat. You shake your head making a mental note to make sure and tell her not to get out of that seat while driving.

You both jump out of the truck and you grab Finley and her bag before going inside. You grab a cart wiping it down before placing Finley in the seat. Just as you’re all walking inside a young man stops you.

“Oh man, 3 women? You’re definitely gonna need my help! Hi I’m Toby!”

“I know more than you.” You deadpan before pulling Natasha along with you.

“More than you.” Finley huffed crossing her arms

The redhead chortled as you all strolled away from the bewildered young man. “His face.” She laughs again hearing Finley giggle with her.

“She’s so cute.” Natasha gushed. “She looks just like you, it's uncanny.”

“So you’re saying I’m cute?” You smirked seeing her flabbergasted. “It’s okay I tend to make women do that.”

She furrowed her brows, a playful smile on her face before smacking your arm. You laughed wholeheartedly going back to the task at hand.

Natasha smiles at the way you crinkle your brow the way you squint your eyes as you peer over the tools in front of you. “So how long have you been- I can’t think of the word I guess a carpenter, a handyman, contractor?”

“Since I was a kid.” You say grabbing another thing off the wall. “My grandpa used to take me everywhere with him. My parents were both hard workers and everyday they’d drop me off with my grandparents while they went to work.” You smiled fondly. “It was the best. They spoiled me rotten. I loved them so much I would cry when my parents would try to take me home.”

“That’s really sweet.” She chuckled.

“Eh, I don't know about sweet. Finley gets that way sometimes, and I swear it must be pay back.”

You laugh, placing an item Finley took back in its place.

“I help.” Finley said proudly.

“Yes, you’re my little helper.” You grin, pecking her forehead.

“So do you have a business?”

“Not really, I just did work whenever I could. Beth was only 2 when we graduated. Quinn and I both agreed that we both wanted to leave Lima. Raise our daughter somewhere better. In order to do that we needed to go to school, but we knew only one of us could actually go.” You sighed remembering the conversation.

“So the agreement was that if our dream school wanted both of us then we would draw straws or something. But if one of us got rejected then that person would take online classes.” You grab one of Beth’s favorite candies and one for Finley.

“I guess that it makes sense not all ivy schools are close to one another.” Natasha chimed in.

“I wanted to go to MIT. That was my dream school. I was so certain I was a shoo-in, my father was an alumni, and my grades and activities were golden. Quinn wanted to go to Yale... MIT ended up rejecting me and Yale accepted Quinn. So we moved to New Haven. I worked different jobs and took care of our daughters while she went to school. After she graduated she was headhunted for a publishing house in New York.”

“That must have been really rough.” Natasha says softly. “Not being able to go to your dream school. Not being able to have a normal college experience.”

“It was but we made it work.”

“What made you guys leave the city for the burbs?”

“Truthfully?”

Natasha furrowed her brows nodding.

“Truthfully Quinn and I weren’t doing too well in the city.”

“You know I have marital issues as well. If you ever wanna vent I’m here. I’d like to consider us new friends.” She smiled softly.

“I’ll keep that in mind… friend.” You grinned, nudging her. You turn your head seeing The young man Toby again this time helping an older man. You furrow your brows at what the young man is saying to the older man.

“This is the one you need sir.”

“What’s wrong?” Natasha asks following your line of vision.

“He’s giving him the wrong kit.” You watch the associate walk away before grabbing the correct kit tapping the older gentleman on the shoulder. “That’s the wrong one, you need this one. If you place that on your water heater it’s going to break and you’ll end up buying a whole new one.” You hand him the right kit before walking away.

“Thank you! Thank you!” He smiled gratefully, placing the wrong kit back on the shelf.

“That was nice of you.” Natasha commented.

You shrugged nonchalantly making your way to the lumber you need.

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“So what do you need all this wood for?” She asked, helping you place it on the truck bed.

“I’m building raised bed gardens and I was thinking about building a treehouse for the girls. I just don’t know if Beth will want one anymore. She’s growing up so fast, and Finley is still too small.”

“Oh, Beth will love it.” Natasha grinned with a wave of her hand. “My father built my sister and I one when I was around Beth’s age. We loved it!”

“Alright.” You chuckled. “Guess I’m building a treehouse.”

“I guess I’m gonna have to sneak over and use it.” Natasha joked.

“Honestly I might join you.” You laughed.

“It’ll be a club.” She grinned as you shut the truck bed. You lift Finley from the cart.

“What would the club name be? And can we keep wives out of it?”

“Hmm… The Avengers and deal; no spouses.” She chuckled watching you clip a sleepy toddler in her car seat. She whined softly as you pried her tiny arms from around your neck. You subtly stuff her zippy cup in her hands and she automatically closes her eyes leaning back to drink from it.

“The Avengers; I like it.” You say in thought.

You move around the front of the truck letting her get in the passenger side. “Alright let’s get that part so you can ride again.” You grinned, turning on the truck.

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Getting the part took you less than 5 minutes now here you are pulling into your driveway. You and Natasha got out as carefully and quietly as possible. Finley had fallen asleep on the drive home. You send a text to Quinn letting her know to be quiet when you enter the home.

“I’ll be right back.” You say softly to Natasha who nods understandingly. You carefully and gently take her out of the car seat walking up the steps to your home. Quinn must have unlocked it cause you walked right in. You smile softly seeing Beth napping on the sofa. Her head on Quinn’s lap as she reads. Your wife smiles at you and gestures for you to place Finley on the other side of her.

“I’m gonna go fix up her bike-“

“As long as you’re not riding it.” She says softly.

You sighed trying not to get upset. She always treated you like that, sometimes it made you feel like a child. “When I’m done with that, wanna have lunch?”

“Sure.” She smiled as you leaned down pecking her lips softly.

You make your way to the garage grabbing your tools. You open the garage door walking over to Natasha’s garage. You find she already moved the bike on a stand in her garage.

“Hey.” She smiled before gesturing to a tray on a nearby bar. “Got you a glass of lemonade-“

“Cookies!” You gasped.

“Yes and cookies.” She chuckled as you took a bite dropping your tool bag. “Dammmmn.” You moaned, throwing your head back.

Natasha’s cheeks began to heat up: she turned her head away.

“Don’t tell Quinn this and I do mean that don’t tell her or I’ll have to kill you.” You joked.

“What is it?” She laughed.

“Your cookies are almost now I said ALMOST better than sex.”

Natasha’s arms fell as her brows raised and suddenly she began walking towards your home. “Oh Quinnnn!” She sang teasingly.

“No stop!” You laughed hearing her giggle as you chased after her. You jumped in front of her and she tried to dodge you but you managed to grab a hold of her. “You better stop playing with my emotions, gingersnap.” You chuckled feeling her body shake as she silently laughed.

“I like you, you're crazy.” You both began walking back to the bike chuckling at what just happened.

“Mind telling me what you’re doing while you fix it? I’d like to learn.” The redhead asked softly as you learned over the gears.

“Of course.” You nod with a grin.

As you go through the steps you both go in and out of conversation. You both realize you’re obsessed with good true crime podcasts and Tiktok. Which leads you both to exchange numbers. Which then leads to adding one another on social media accounts.

“I can’t believe this is you.” She laughed seeing you dressed up as a member of Kiss with the boys from Glee club. She had been scrolling through your page as you worked on her bike.

“Wait until I get a hold of your old photos and make fun of you!”

“Go ahead, and try! They're all hot.” Natasha smirked looking up from her phone at you.

You snorted while continuing your work.

“So what is a glee club exactly?” She asked; watching an old video of you and the club winning nationals.

“It’s like a choir but not.” You cringe at your explanation.

“So you sing?”

“Yup.”

“Do you play any instruments?”

“Yeah I play guitar and Finn taught me how to play the drums when we were younger.”

“Oh wow maybe you can play me something sometime?”

“Uh sure.” You chuckled. “I haven’t really played in a while.”

“Well now you’re really gonna have to play me something.” She smirked.

Laughing, you asked “Are you a big music fan?”

“I like to think I’m above average.” She smirked. You noticed she did that a lot. Kind of how Quinn always kinks her brow. This is Natasha’s tick. She smirks playfully.

Within an hour her bike was back up and running. She moved it to the driveway before asking you. “Wanna go for a ride?”

“Uhh…” you look over at your house remembering Quinn’s words. “As long as you’re not riding it.”

“Come on, she won’t know.” Natasha smirked.

“Oh she will. My wife has a sixth sense for this sort of thing.”

“Then I’ll say we went slow so you could hear if there was anything else that was wrong with the bike?”

“Hmm…” You tap your chin in thought. “You drive a hard bargain tiny dancer. That’s not a bad idea, I’m in.” You nod.

Natasha grins as she handing you an extra helmet before getting on the bike. You sit down behind her getting your bearings before holding on to her.

“You smell really good.” You chuckled hoping that didn’t come off as creepy.

“Thank you.” She smirked before riding away.

Natasha led you both out of Avenger Lane and down an old back road.

“This is my favorite spot to ride down.” She smiles, turning her head just enough so you can hear her. She felt your arms let go as you sat up straighter moving your hands to her hips. The Russian shivered at the sensation. Images of you gripping her hips as you kissed her back came to mind. She inwardly berated herself for being a terrible new friend. Friends don’t think of one another that way.

“It’s beautiful.” You say back. It really is. There’s old trees on the side of the road that meet and create a canopy over the road. Night time you’re sure it’s terrifying but right now with the sun shining down on you and wildflowers beyond the trees make it a blissful place.

The road wasn’t too long. You both rode a few miles before the trees ended. She turned around making her way back towards her home.

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“Hadn’t done that in so long.” You grinned while getting off the bike.

“Maybe we can ride again some time.” Natasha smiles.

“Natasha there’s something you should know.” You say cringing.

“I told you my friends call me Nat.” She smiles nudging you

“We’ll see how you feel after this.” You bite your inner lip nervously.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, tilting her head, placing her hand on your arm.

You look up from the ground “The other day after my run I was grabbing a fresh set of clothes when I saw you…“ You pause wondering how to word this when unbeknownst to you Natasha’s heart begins to thump rapidly against her chest. She’s certain she’s been caught. “Well really I looked up and you were…well you were getting dressed.”

Natasha is so relieved she smiles and lets out a tiny chuckle.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to look.”

The redhead stares at you for a moment, you gulp and feel your cheeks heat up under her gaze. What you didn’t know was that she actually found it sweet that you told her this. Because who in their right mind would admit that? It definitely made her like you. It showed her you were truthful, and cared about this new found friendship.

“First off I’m a little mortified, and second It’s okay Y/N you didn’t do anything wrong.” She smiles followed by a sweet giggle. You chuckle out of nervousness when you briefly recall thinking of her while you masterbated in the shower not too long ago. Now you feel guilty because she’s quickly becoming your friend. “Did you?” She teases you with a smirk.

Yes you say in your head.

You chuckled awkwardly, shaking your head.

‘Why do I get the feeling she did what I did?’ Natasha muses to herself. Were you thinking of her the way she thinks of you?

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N! Get your ass inside!” Quinn fumed stepping outside.

“Ah shit.” You gulped.

“She was just making sure it was running smoothly. We didn't go fast just down the road and back.” Natasha inserts herself on your behalf. “She didn’t drive, she was just a passenger I promise.”

“Nat it’s okay.” You say letting your fingertips gently touch her arm.

“A passenger on a Death machine. Y/L/N. I swear if you don’t get your ass inside-“ you quickly snatch your tool box up and rush back home.

“Quinn stop.” You say now in front of her. “I’m a grown ass woman.”

“You mean an overgrown child.” She snaps as you walk inside.

Natasha let a puff of air escape. She felt partially responsible for you getting your ass chewed out by your wife. She sighed, feeling guilty and alone. She cranked her motorcycle back to life before riding back to the road she showed you.

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“Quinn-“

“No Y/N I don’t want to hear it-“

“Stop treating me like a child! It was down the road and back!” You yelled pointing.

“Stop yelling!” She yelled back

“I’m upset, I can yell if I want too, Quinn, God dammit!”

Finley woke with a cry causing Quinn to glare at you before she made her way to Finley.

“Mama!” She cried, feeling confused.

“It’s okay Fin.” Quinn cooed holding the toddler in her arms noticing Beth had placed her headphones on. She turned towards you; Finley on her hip burying her face in her neck. “Y/N that was the only thing I asked of you. Not to ride that death machine.”

“You never asked me anything, you stated it. I'm a grown ass woman Quinn. If I wanna go for a ride I am going too.”

“You also have two little girls and a wife that love you.” She said back. “Look we’re all hungry just promise me you won’t do it again.”

“That’s an insane thing to ask me.”

“Not really.”

“Quinn I could get hurt walking across the street! What difference does it make if I ride a motorcycle?!”

“Everything. Y/N it’s one of the easiest ways to get hurt in this day in age.”

“I’m not promising anything and I don’t even have a bike I was fixing hers.”

“That’s another thing you just left with her for hours. What the hell was that about?”

“Oh my God; you’re so overbearing. She is a friend.” You roll your eyes.

“Well I didn’t appreciate you galavanting off with our hot neighbor.”

“Galavanting.”

“You got on the back of her Harley.” Quinn glared, kinking her brow.

“It wasn’t like that.” You huff.

“Considering I’ve been in that position before I’d say it’s pretty intimate.” Quinn rolled her eyes with a chortle. She remembered being thoroughly drenched when you would take her out on your bike when you had one, but it just wasn’t worth the risk in her opinion.

“There you go being jealous again. Surprise, surprise.” You sighed, rubbing your face.

Her eyes softened before placing a sleeping Finley back down on the sofa.

“Hey.” Quinn said softly as she took your hand. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have gotten so upset. I trust you. I’m glad you’re making friends. I am-”

“But?” you sighed looking away from her only to have her hands redirect your gaze.

“-however I really just don’t like you riding something so dangerous. Can we please come to an agreement on no riding motorcycles?” Her hands pressed against your chest softly rubbing you before hooking her arms around you. “For us? Please?”

With a heavy sigh you nod and she leaves a soft kiss against your lips.

“Thank you. Now how about we order pizza tonight?”

“Breadsticks too?”

“We definitely need breadsticks.” She chuckles, leaning up to kiss you.

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Later that night after putting the girls to bed you received a text.

1 New message from: Nat

‘Hope, I didn’t get you in too much trouble.’

‘She was upset but I can’t ride anymore. :( ‘ You text back.

Natasha texts you back with a :( .

You set your phone down getting in bed when Quinn takes your hand.

“I want you to know I’m trying Y/N. I’m working on myself, I promise.”

“Quinn, we left the city because of your jealousy issues.”

“I know, and I promise I’ll work harder on it.”

“Please do so because so far I’m making friends and I wanna keep them.”

“I know.” She whispered, this was something Quinn loathed about herself. This jealousy she harbors. It comes from her father. She absolutely knows it stems from him. “I’ll be better, I promise. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too.” You open your arms and she cuddles into you. The past year has been rough on you both. Here’s to hoping this year will be better.

<- Chapter two Chapter Four ->

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