#also fuck you jared say what you mean

[henrysglock]

Y'know I actually do have things to say about these weird leak riddles. Because of course I do. Idc if I'm right or not, I'm just going to start Saying Things for Recreational Purposes.

Heart of Hawkins: Literally? The library. The library has been so central and just happened to be mostly missed by the rifts. Figuratively? Could be a Mike reference, especially since Will is linked to the library. It's like. a triangle. Or something.

Secrets of the past unfold/Tales untold: What, so Henry's backstory and Will's disappearance aren't as straightforward as everyone seems to think they are? Who could have guessed?? /s

Where shadows dance/Mysteries conspire: Probably something to do with Dimension X and the lab. Fire and Code respectively. HNL is so fucking back! ST2 baby!

Lost in the heart of Hawkins -> Darkness descends on Hawkins -> Lost in the darkness -> NINA

A Knee Way...

Monsters emerge/A sinister unseen: [nodding along] Yeah we kinda knew monsters were coming.

Ancient powers/motives concealed: Would love for them to expand on the Shadow Monster and its possible sentience/loyalties. That feels like this.

A town's fate is sealed: Yeah we kinda had the feeling there's no restoring Hawkins after this one.

Beware the night: Anyone want to tell me why TFS has a church that looks like the one from Midnight Mass, the show about ancient Vecna-looking vampires? Anyone want to elaborate on how Vecna feeds on peoples' energy/life force like a vampire...Anyone want to tell me why Brenner doesn't have a reflection...like a vampire...Anyway...

Heroes unite/Restore the town's light: Hawkins Light and Power baby!! Like I said, HNL is so fucking back!! 🫡

In shadows deep/A force does creep: Did they ever actually seal those tunnels from ST2? Or did they just put concrete over the spot where the gate was? Because it would be really funny if the tunnels popped back into action.

Upside down secrets buried deep: Okay we get it there's more to HNL's connection to the UD than meets the eye. You said this like twice now.

A girl with power: Hello El my darling daughter <3 Cannot wait to see you again. (I'm sure this absolutely has nothingggggg to do with Hawkins Power and light...)

A gate unfurls: So like I said about those tunnels...can we talk about the X-axis and Y-axis gates again...because I'm fairly sure our X-axis gates are already unfurled...

The underworld twirls: I patiently await Vecna's new choreo. Can we make him do a death drop? (But seriously...this is giving the spinning cameras from Max/Brenner's "death" scenes)

So in essence what I see here is: HNL is so fucking back, we have more to learn about Henry, there's more monsters, and we have more to learn about Vecna/the UD. Could indicate some alter ego/X-Y axis fuckery with the tunnels and the old mothergate. All things we already figured.

Cheers, there's nothing new as far as I can see.

[pinkravat-art]

magnus s4 au where everything is the same except jon wakes up from the coma ripped. absolutely shredded.

[roslina-w-bagnie]

i realised i REALLY havent been posting any of my art lately and that i should probably change that so, our dnd party after a year of playing

gushing about our campaign below

we're currently close to finishing the lost mine of phandelver module and gonne move on to my homebrew writing and i am EXCITED

from the left we got:

Jared, human paladin oath of glory

Six years after leaving the army, arguing with his family and leaving the country to travel the world, he got a letter from his mother about a war brewing in his homeland, one of his brothers being drafted and the second being ill. She asked him for a meeting before they move inland. We're a week away from the date.

Damaia, tiefling draconic sorcerer/blood cleric

During a festival in Neverwinter, they went to a fortune teller, where she was told the 'Father of Lies' was keeping his eyes on her. She went reaserching and found out about Asmodeus. After they found about about Bib's betrayl and death, she tried to contact him and managed to bring him back as undead, effectively sealing both her and his fate into the hands of Asmodeus.

Paori, half-elven monk, way of the open hand

She comes from an extremely closed off village. After leaving and trying to come back home again she was told to leave ad never come back. After meeting the rest of the party, through a mutual friend she met another person from her village, a sorceress named Sevanna. Through some internal conflicts about religion and allegiance (and inventing atheism in the process(??)), she plans to come back home again.

Wilson, dwarf swashbuckler rogue/barbarian

*slaps the dwarf* this bad boy can fit so much trauma

In his past he had sailed on two different ships. One of his family, who were killed by pirates, second of his lover's, which was attacked by the kraken. He was the only survivor of that encounter (he believes *wink wink*), which still plagues his dreams. Through his current employer he met the rest of these chucklefucks, and currently is mostly down for the ride.

Bib, goblin/hollow one, arcane trickster rogue turned undead warlock

He was part of the Cragmaw Tribe, which were killed by the party in search for Sildar Hallwinter. After the massacre Black Spider (bbeg of the module) reached out to him and he started working directly under him in hopes of bringing the party down. Well, the party found out through a letter from the Black Spider which was in Bib's possession. They tried to stage a middle-of-the-night assult from BS's people, during which he fell from a tree he was trying to climb and bled out while the party was arguing about a course of action with him. Damaia managed to bring him back and his current plan was seeing Black Spider's downfall. After that? A strange symbol has appeard on his palm, so he should probably look into that.

[devilmademewriteit]

If You Lie Down With Me

pairing: (pre-ellie) dbf!joel miller x fem!afab!reader

summary: there’s only one guy in all of boston that can get you a morning after pill. unfortunately, on top of being a huge asshole, Joel Miller also happens to be your dad’s closest peer.

warnings: rough sex / smut (masturbation, fem penetration, oral [m receiving]) so 18+ only content; unprotected sex; light choking & restraint; light dom/sub dynamic; fem afab reader; reader has long-ish hair (that gets touched); plot-typical violence (guns, death); plot deviations (no Tess); medication ingestion; pet names (baby, sweetheart, angel); dubcon (slight intoxication, power imbalance, no explicit consent).

word count: 6.5k+

no use of y/n in this fic

alright y’all I’m baaaaAAAaack! so this is basically the other version of Dark But Just a Game that I started back when I was writing it & figured I’d finish it to get out of my hiatus. like any devilmademewriteit fic, it’s dark and nasty and deprived like meeeeeee <3 hope u enjoy !

don’t forget to reblog, check out my masterlist, sign up for the taglist, & leave any comments / feedback / & suggestions!

(ps: new part of Salvatore up next !)

—

“three times the guy I ever thought I would meet, so don't say you're over me when we both know that you lie”

— lana del rey, ‘If You Lie Down With Me’

—

Fuck.

Waking up to a racing heart, a pounding head, and a stomach swimming with nausea was never ideal, although it was always a better experience alone — when you could squint and hiss at the light slicing through the weaknesses in the drapes without hearing your groans echoed by a lower, louder, and annoyingly more pitiful voice.

Right. What was his name?

Jared? Jordan? Jermaine?

Ah, who cares.

If he’d wanted a safe place to nurse his hangover, he shouldn’t have fallen asleep in your bed. Sure, the odds of dad being conscious at this hour (especially the odds after a party like last night’s) were Kate Moss — no, Rolling Stones — slim, but the man would get up at some point, meaning that this poor J-whatever was likely sleeping through his only window of escape from certain homicide.

You whisper. You shake him gently. You gingerly tap the roundness of his bicep.

Huh — Not bad.

You congratulate last-night-you for reeling in this morning’s good-looking catch.

Still… nothing. Not a twitch. Nary a croaked ‘lemmesleep’ graces your ears.

After loosing an exasperated sigh and running through your options, you decide to take the most effective (and least girl-next-door) route. The corner of your elbow collides with his ribs, and the boy jumps up, his loose, blonde curls as wild as his eyes, searching the room for his attacker.

You want to smile at the scene, but the motion hurts your head.

“Y’gotta go,” you croak out, thumbs rubbing circles against your aching temples.

He collapses onto his back, copying your movement with his own fingers to his brow. “God. I feel like shit.”

Despite muttering your agreement, you let your eyelashes flutter closed and your weight turn you away from last night’s paramour: no use figuring out who he is after the (f)act — that just makes it personal.

After a few breaths, the boy moves back up to a shakey sitting position.

Probably sourcing for his clothes.

He reeks of booze and sex — but then again, so do you. His roughened, unfamiliar tenor climbs to barely above a whisper, “Z’something stuck on my leg… blood, or something…”

His interrupting your suffering comes as a deeply unwelcome annoyance, so you try to sort him out to clear him out: “Prolly just the condom,” you mumble, rolling back onto your shoulders, reluctantly supervising his movements.

He lifts up fully, sitting criss-cross and pulling his calf towards him.

“No,” he tries to laugh but succumbs to the nausea, settling for a low breath instead, “S’blood, dude, from beer darts — and I didn’t use a condom.”

Your eyes immediately dart over, settling on his naked, wretched, shivering form. He notices your ire and the hitching of your throat, immediately defensive.

“I asked if you wanted to.”

Unfortunately, he had. The memories of your drunken entanglement start to resurface inside your mind. “It just feels better without one.” This time, you curse last-night-you for being such a careless, inconsiderate, horny bastard.

You’re making problems for me, girl.

“J’s get out.”

J-whatever spares no time complying, collecting his few strewn belongings and staggering out the front door. Once it slides shut, so too do your poor, weary eyes.

Shit.

There goes the afternoon.

Getting your hands on condoms in the QZ was at least fifteen times easier than snatching a morning after pill. Those were a hot commodity, especially among the younger, less responsible crowds.

Luckily for you, as a member of aforementioned younger, less responsible crowds, you knew where your best chances lay in finding whatever it was you needed (if what you needed was deeply immoral or wholly illegal). Unluckily for you, that ‘best chance’ happened to be your dad’s closest and longest-running business partner: temperamental, judgemental, frustratingly competent, Joel ‘Local Asshole’ Miller.

But that could all be dealt with after another eight hours of sleep.

—

Opportunity strikes sooner than expected.

Miller’s in your living room by the time you wake up, the low rumble of his southern baritone recognizable even through the closed door. After scrambling to throw on some clothes, you press an ear to the chipping paint, hoping to determine the number of bodies gathered in your home.

Not many. Just Miller (and the old man, of course).

The latter’s presence bodes ill for you. This would all have to be done in secret, which was not an uncommon strategy where ever the former was involved. No one dealt with Joel Miller to conduct clean-cut, wholesome activities. No one was calling him up for a spare copy of the holy book.

No, getting him alone was essential.

A drink slams down on the counter. After a good, patient ten minutes, you hear your father (‘s rather crude way of) excusing himself to the washroom and heavy-set footsteps decrescendoing down the hall.

This is it.

You slip through the door.

At first, your company takes no notice of you, his eyes still glued to the maps and papers littering the counter before him.

Then, a low grumble: “fun night?”

His voice makes you weak in the knees — an involuntary, near ritual-like response you’d noticed around your mid teens and hadn’t managed to kick yet.

You swallow before responding. “Yes.”

It’s all you manage to muster. Miller finally looks up, wincing slightly as his back straightens. He looks tired, at least more than usual, with his wild, grey-streaked hair tousled and the lines by his mouth cutting deep into his skin.

You’re sure you don’t look much better, a suspicion proven by the man’s slowly spreading, barely-noticeable smirk. That gaze makes you self conscious, mute; your right hand snakes up, absent-mindedly dragging a fallen bra strap back to its proper position.

“So, what was his name?”

He’s teasing, sure, but Miller was there last night. He’d always had sharper perceptions than your father did, especially — and ironically — when it came to you. That skill tended to squander your confidence as the daughter of a modern-day mafia-boss and the owner of a hard, violent heart.

Rushed by the sound of your father’s footsteps, you default to honesty.

“I don’t remember.”

“Try.”

“Josh.”

Amusement flits across his stern expression. “Again.”

“Jamie.”

“Warmer.”

“J-J-something—”

“Gettin’ colder, sweetheart—”

“I need the pill.”

It just tumbles out, an exasperated, desperate plea. Miller, a bit taken aback by your candor, drains of his previous playfulness. You almost notice the split second those dark eyes glaze over. For a second, you’re almost convinced he’s distracted by his imagination’s recreations of the act that had you making such a request.

You almost notice the tingling between your thighs.

He stares. You stare back.

Fuck.

It was moments like this that made you wish Tess was still around. Oh, she wouldn’t be any kinder — no, not at all — but she’d certainly be more professional. Tess was all work, no play. Joel was…

You’re enjoying this, you bastard. You’re enjoying that I’m cornered like this, aren’t you?

The bathroom handle clicks when it turns, and your heart drops into your toes.

Maybe Miller really wasn’t going to help you. Maybe he didn’t have the pill and you’d just embarrassed yourself for nothing. Or, maybe he did, but preferred outing you to your dad at the very first opportunity — letting him deal with you the only way he knew how.

Your fears seem confirmed: his eyes leave the grace of your own, trailing back to his big, splayed hands on the countertop. Unwelcome tears burn the corners of your eyes as the panic begins to set in, as footsteps begin to fall…

“Mine. Tonight.”

It’s low and rushed, but it’s clear, cutting off to the sound of your father lumbering in. A man who saw, thought, and lived through transactions, he’s (thankfully) blissfully ignorant of the tension collapsing around him.

“Morning,” he throws your way.

A taunt, of course — it was well past noon.

You nod in acknowledgement, slowly backing into the doorway of your sacred, beckoning room. They resume their conversation from before, letting you sink into irrelevance.

Before shutting yourself in, you catch a few of Miller’s hushed words. They’re spoken casually to your father but, you later decide, surely meant for you:

“Not that one kid — Jeremy — don’t trust him.”

The door seals (well, not seals… it creaks on its rusty hinges and squeezes into its shrinking frame), and relief courses through you, reaching the very tips of your fingers.

That only lasts a minute.

Soon, you’re negotiating with the rising anxiety of being at Miller’s place alone, asking for his help with a problem that could’ve been avoided if you’d only kept your legs shut.

Alone with Miller, the both of you knowing that you hadn’t.

Crawling back under your covers, you begrudgingly make a vow of celibacy. If this was the cost of attention and a (potential) mid-range orgasm, you were about to become very frugal.

Dreams come easy, but they don’t come sweet.

Flashes of last night’s sins overlay Joel Miller’s unintelligible speech, his voice from the next room over lulling you into a rather confusing, disturbed sleep.

—

At nighttime, it’s a short walk to his building.

Down this alley, past this street, up this back stairwell. Part of being in with Boston’s seedy underbelly gained you access to the best and most up-to-date intel; by the age of twelve, you could run the safest — well, least policed — post-curfew routes from memory.

(Which had come in handy in situations a lot more dire than this.)

Sneaking in was easy, although you cursed him for being so preoccupied during the day. Coming in at this hour required some delicate maneuvers through a half-shattered window, and a less-than-graceful leap down left you with a nick on your cheekbone and a shallow cut along the side of your hand.

Thankfully, the blood mostly dries on your walk up the six or eight or ten flights of stairs. You don’t resent the exercise; it feels good to move, putting the jitters building in every still moment in abeyance.

Still moments like the kind that passes after a barely-audible, coded knock delivered by a girl sucking on the side of her hand, almost wishing for the door not to open.

It does.

He’s in jeans — dirty jeans, dusty — and a simple flannel. It’s Miller — it’s Miller at his most Joel-Miller-like-ness.

So why am I so fucking nervous?

He holds the door open, brows knitting at the sight of your hand in your mouth.

“Window,” You offer.

He mouthes a silent ‘ah,’ before leaning forward to duck his head out the door and, in the process, somewhat sandwiching you against his chest.

Maybe it’s because he smells like forest-fires, but your skin burns red-hot.

Miller looks both ways, checking the status of the hall (empty), then nudges you into the dim light of his place with the weight of his hand against your lower back.

The door shuts behind you.

You’d been here at least a million times before, but the thoughts rising now feel so… new. The jacket strewn on the side of the sagging sofa is his — Joel Miller has sat at this table and showered, slept, fucked inside these walls.

Cut it out. It’s just ‘cause you’re alone. And older.

But what about it, now that you were alone and older?

Old enough to know what goes on between a man and a woman and a little bit of desperation at just the right amounts… and there sure was a lot of him, and some desperation, too…

“Nervous?”

Your feet hit the floor, all thoughts evaporating at the sound of his word. Blushing, you try to de-code his taunt, spoken with playfulness and too much condescension.

“Wh — what’d you — nervous for what? No.”

He’s already across the room, sifting through a box of miscellaneous items. A yellowed lamp shade catches his side-profile, illuminates the smirk spreading across his face. Then, a low command:

“Relax,” and your spine settles, acceding to his wish. “Some girls get nervous, y’know, takin’ it the first time.”

Oh.

You clear your throat, daring to take a step into his place, incensed enough to trace the indents and stab-marks decorating his kitchen table.

“No.”

You’re taken aback by the accuracy and the strength underpinning your answer. It’s true, you aren’t afraid, and hadn’t been afraid of much in a very long while.

What’s a Joel Miller to your best friend’s public hanging? What’s he to a dozen rows of semi automatics raining down on your zigzagging toes? What’s he to a period cramp?

Like a bolt of lightning hitting you in the chest, that cocky, gauche and indelicate rebel you’d grown into reappears.

“I’ve been told I take things pretty well my first time.” The tension rises — this time, at your command — just as Joel does, carrying a leather pouch in his right hand. “And it’s not, anyways,” you add for good measure.

The leather drops onto the marked-up table. Joel crosses his arms.

“Not sellin’ me on givin’ you one of these, sweetheart.”

He gestures to the bag.

A mock-frown as you draw closer to him. His eyes, although severe, reflect the playfulness dancing in your own.

“Why not?” You ask, voice dripping with false innocence.

Joel’s gaze doesn’t stray as it hardens, focused on your own. “They’re for accidents, mistakes, attacks,” he explains, deep and dangerous, “Not girls who can’t keep their pretty lil’ legs together.”

Oof.

On one hand, it sounds like he’s genuinely chastising you for your careless behaviour. But, on the other, he sounds jealous, taunting, hungry.

I’ll play that hand.

Sleeping all day had left you wide awake, and that long-time, school-girl crush on the man before you was dying for content to fantasize about. Even if he pushed you off, you’d get to feel the weight of his hands on your body, right?

So, you return with a taunt of your own: “You think my legs are pretty?”

He shakes his head, his signature scowl spreading as he mostly ignores you. “I think you should at least use condoms,” a breath, “N’ know their first names.”

Ouch.

“I usually do.” you murmur, “and it broke last night.”

“Bullshit.”

“What do you mean, bullshit?”

Joel sighs and lowers himself into one of the four old, rickety chairs lining the table. His hand comes up to his temples and you notice how his legs, exhausted, part.

The man doesn’t deign to respond.

Irritation begins to well in your core, sneaking through your arms and up into your throat. The muscle in your jaw must be twitching like crazy.

How does he know? How the fuck does he always know?

Across the QZ, as a skilled liar and born and bred bandit, people tended to hold whatever image of you that you’d crafted for them.

Not Joel. Never Joel.

He saw through you in a way that had always felt… intimate. It was one of the reasons, you guessed, he didn’t dare spend too much time alone with you and why you’d always been curious about him (as a man, of course). Now, there was no avoiding your obvious vulnerability from either of you — you were stripped bare, your dressings in his hand.

It makes you want to flee as much as it makes you want to leap into his arms.

You snatch up the pouch, opening it up to find a mass of differently coloured and shaped pills. Rifling through, you ignore Joel’s stare boring into your hands’ erratic search.

“Yellow ones,” he says.

“I know what they look like,” you retort.

“‘Course you do.”

He moves faster than he should be able to.

One moment, your palm is slicing through the air, headed straight for the highest point of his cheek. The next, you’re facedown on the table. Your attacking hand is caged in by a much larger, much stronger one, pinned to the decaying wood; the other, he pins behind your back. Pills litter the floor — Joel’s boot crunches into a wayward one as he adjusts himself behind you, leaning over your struggling, smaller frame, immobilizing you with his weight.

“Let go of me—” you hiss, words smothered by the wooden surface pressed to your profile.

“—Shut up ‘n listen,” he commands, leaning over to tower over his trapped victim. “Try that again n’I’ll do worse’n kill you. Understand?”

Despite the authenticity of his threat, a strangled laugh wracks your lungs.

“Gonna turn me in for contraband, Miller? Watch them gun me down in the square?”

You smile through your heavy breaths. There, behind your hips, is a growing movement indicative of some other kind of punishment he’s got in mind.

“Or,” you continue on coyly, “Give me another reason to need that pill?”

Joel pauses, untangling your meaning.

Then, an exasperated scoff. His hold tightens on your wrist and you wince. “You always thinkin’ of the fastest way to get a man to fuck you?”

“Only when his cock’s pressed against my ass.”

He goes quiet — only for a moment. Somewhere outside, rounds echo through the night.

“Z’that what you want?” His voice is deep and threatening, promising of the kind of hard, mind-numbing fuck you’d been craving for weeks.

After a hard swallow, you nod, catching the raise of his eyebrows in your periphery.

A moment passes as he mulls over your answer. Only your shallow, anticipatory breaths populate the quiet space.

“Alright.”

And he lets go.

Heart racing, wrists aching, you flip around to his neutral, impenetrable expression.

“Get down on your knees.”

Without taking a moment to decide whether you’re living anything more than just a really fucked up dream, you sink to your knees, folding your hands in your lap (to stop them from shaking). Before you, Joel’s bulge twitches while he watches you yielding to submission, and you try to ignore the excitement building between your own two legs.

His eyes burn into yours: black, starved, weighty. He tells you to shut your own and you do, unable to resist the tone of his command. Within the self-imposed darkness, Joel’s following order — ‘open your mouth,’ — parts your lips as if they were under his spell. You wonder what you must look like to him, needy and ready to receive whatever you’re given.

He speaks again.

“Show me your tongue, angel.”

The gruffness punctuating his arousal doesn’t let you stand a chance. You let your mouth fall open wider.

Next, there’s rustling. You try to remember whether or not he’d had on a belt, listening and failing to hear the soft clinks of a buckle coming undone.

Too soon, something wraps around your chin — thick, calloused fingers — and the pressure of a thumb running down the middle of your tongue sends a rush of electricity down every stacked vertebrae. It’s slow, tantalizingly slow, as if the man were trying to memorize the feel of every groove, ridge, and bud on his leisurely way out.

When Joel drops his hand, a small weight remains at the back of your throat.

“Close.”

You do, opening your eyes to meet his own: severe and wanting — or wanting for severity?

It’s a pill. That much is obvious once the taste begins to spread, bitter and chemical and totally gag-worthy. He follows up with ‘swallow’ for his own sick enjoyment; by the time he says it, it’s clear that you already have.

What kind of game is this, Miller?

Your cheeks burn when your company kneels down. He places his big, broad hand partly on your neck, partly to the side of your jaw, and you’re still too taken aback to tear it off. The feel of his rough palm against your racing pulse silences every urge to enact revenge. Words don’t come — too quickly forgotten on one’s knees.

“You’re way too easy for your own good, sweetheart,” he near-whispers, shooting to kill in a blow packed tight with condescension. “Don’t let me see you here again.”

And that’s it: your cue to get lost.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Miller pulls away from your reddening skin, straightening to stand. You follow suit soon after, heart pumping lead, tongue bruised by the memory of his touch (more overwhelming than the metallic residue dripping down your throat).

He turns, running a few fingers through his hair. It’s the last look you get before resigning yourself to the journey back home.

Still, before turning the rusted handle, in a brief moment of respite, of clarity, you seize the final word:

“I’m only ‘easy’ when I’m drunk. Or interested.”

Silence courses through the room as Joel registers the meaning behind your confession.

“Goodnight, Miller.”

With that, you see yourself into the hallway, checking its status before tearing into the stairwell.

You barely breathe.

He wanted me — he had to have wanted me.

Miller was a pragmatic player; surely, he’d only bother to play with toys he liked like that… right?

Right?

Unable to clear your head or cool the heat radiating through your core, you take the long way home, the distant sounds of a war between rivals soothing the cacophony of noise swimming between your ears.

—

For the next two weeks, all you’re able to think about is him.

You think about him when he’s gone and when he’s in the room, grumbling in hushed tones to your father. You think about him when you’re unable to fall asleep, letting your hands slip beneath the waistband of your shorts, imagining your own fingers as thick, tan ones running through the warmth between your legs.

He takes no notice of you — a fact you deeply resent. Even in your skimpiest clothing, he’s like a damn horse with blinders on. You decide, in the past weeks, he’d either acquired the patience of Job or purged every sinful craving from his system when he’d stuck his fingers down your throat.

Naturally, you’re more than happy when, at breakfast (two in the afternoon), your father gives you the heads up about tonight’s gathering at the Bar (which was really just an asbestos-ridden basement equipped with enough prohibition-style gadgets and architecture to host a good ‘strategic meeting’ every other month).

“Everyone’s gonna be there,” he mumbles. “Need you to keep your ears open. Had to take a couple rats out last week…”

Everyone’s gonna be there.

Smiling to yourself, your thoughts start to spin out. Business, distractions, booze. Tonight would host a million opportunities for you to get him alone.

Hope blooms through your chest.

Do your worst, Miller.

—

“Man, I wish we could’ve experienced cocktails. Straight hooch is ass.”

A peer named Mel, just a year older than yourself, cringes as she sips on whatever murky liquor’s found its way into her cup.

You don’t mind the taste so much, having grown mostly immune to its taste and burn. In fact, you’d come to welcome the subsequent lapse in breath and judgement.

There was little else in this world that made you feel alive.

“Mhm,” you respond absent-mindedly, looking for a familiar scowl among the mass of scowls peppering the crowd.

A sigh to your right. “Always awesome, having your attention.”

The criticism snaps you back into your body. You smile sheepishly at your friend, apologizing through a wince.

She shrugs, her raggedy, pin-decorated jacket jingling with the movement. “S’okay. Known you long enough to know that look.”

For that, she receives a quizzical glance.

Mel comes back with a scoff. “No victims tonight?”

“Oh god,” you shoot her a look of disgust. “Do you mind not using such weird vocabulary? Make me sound like a predator.”

As the words tumble out, you zero in on the object of your search. There he is: eyebrows knit together in concentration, drink in hand, unsurprisingly (and annoyingly) in conversation with your father. A few other stragglers are in the mix, too, but they’re easily overlooked. Time slows to a full stop in his wake —only for the briefest of seconds —

“Well since the last guy actually wound up dead a week later, I think it’s fitting.”

Once again, Mel’s managed to wrangle your interest.

You stare blankly into her onyx eyes, ringlets falling through molasses around her face. “Jeremy?”

And she’s bewildered. “You didn’t hear?”

This time, both of your heads turn in the same direction.

“Ratted to FEDRA about the storehouse off tenth,” she explains, gesturing towards Miller and your father with a tilt of her head. Famous for her bravery, she stoops into your shoulder, averting his gaze and speaking under her breath, “Judging by the way they found him, my guess is it was mostly Miller’s stuff.”

It’s as if she’d screamed it.

The subject of your conversation turns to face you right as your company’s words drift off. Despite the level of noise, the amount of people, and the cloudiness of the air, you’re trapped in the corridor of your mutual stare, cornered.

The challenge, the knowing marking his expression.

“I need some air.”

You twist into the body standing behind you, shoving row after row of criminal scum out of the way. Mel doesn’t follow — she’d never hung around to comfort you, only to inform you. A mutual, typical relationship for the age, and just how things worked in the QZ.

You slam into the door, stomping into a deserted, silent alley, empty save for a few drunk strays. Your lips begin to tingle and a scream builds inside your lungs. Stalking blindly into the night, unsure of your direction, alone in half a top and a plain, ass-length skirt, shivering despite the warmth of the air…

You’re practically begging for trouble.

Just as your eyes catch the numbers on the old, rusted street sign above, just as you realize you’re on a monitored street tonight, only safe after curfew every other Monday and Wednesday, you’re grabbed by the waist, pulled into the space between two buildings, and shoved into a sheltered nook.

A dim, yellow light clicks on automatically. There’s a door (chained closed) leading into the building to your left and darkness to your right.

And there’s Joel Miller above you, his expression indeterminable.

“You asshole,” you barely hear yourself breathe over the sound of the blood rushing in your ears before lunging forward in a useless attempt to, once again, strike his profile.

He catches your wrist, no doubt having anticipated the attack. It’s written on your face, in your eyes, in your shallow, uneven inhalations. He takes your other hand before you’ve even thought to use it, lifting it above your head and slamming it against the old stucco behind you.

“You’re violent,” he says flatly.

He tightens his hold when you struggle against it. “Proud of yourself, yeah? You’re a killer.”

That inspires a slight smirk. You half expect him to return with an ‘as if you didn’t already know that.’

Instead, he says, “Sweetheart, you didn’t even know his name.”

“You should’ve told me.”

And that’s the real source of this anger: it’s rage at being the last to know.

And for what? To protect your feelings? Since when had anyone in your life bothered to do that?

“And don’t call me ‘sweetheart’,” you add for good measure.

You’d wanted him to touch you so badly for weeks now, but here, scorned at being left in the dark and confused at the death of a paramour, you only want to get free.

“And what’d he call you?” He spits, leaning down and in, inadvertently pressing his thigh between your legs — when his breath grazes the skin of your ear, it causes them to part (against your better judgement). “Got lots of names, right?” He continues to tease, “Heard your boyfriend’s pretty one for you before I shut him up — ‘that fuckin’ slut,’ f’I’m rememberin’ right.”

Despite your rage-shakes, you’re warming at the core, Joel’s pressure against it dizzying your already-addled head. It confuses you, makes the scorn easier to access.

“How did I come up, Miller?” You exhale, jutting your chin towards him. “Couldn’t help asking for all the dirty little details, could you?”

He smiles, and the act lacks any sort of kindness. “‘Lot easier gettin’ him alone once he thought he was meetin’ you.” Joel slams your wrist harder into the wall when you try to wriggle away. “Not sure you wanna keep making that kind of impression, angel.”

It’s hard to rationalize with him so close, as his pet-names echoe inside your head. He’d used your name to enact gang-law violence on a boy who’d been inside you, and yet, all you can think, all you can hear, is the way ‘sweetheart’ sounds tumbling off his lips.

“Fucking let me go, Miller,” you manage to exasperate, resenting the begging edge to every word. “I don’t need another abstinence lecture from you.”

Kicking one ankle off balance, Joel turns you around, pressing your stomach to the wall, your back into his chest. Ignoring your whines and pitiful struggle, he wraps a free hand around your neck, pushing your head against his collarbone. Your stomach erupts with butterflies as the rough pad of his thumb traces the front of your throat.

Yes — no — yes, he wants me — no, no, this is wrong, this is so wrong —

“‘Be wasted on you, anyways,” he says, rough and earnest, like his hand sliding down your chest, your breasts, your stomach, “Startin’ to realize if I can’t fix your dad’s mistakes…” and he’s finding the hem of your skirt and yanking it up, bunching the fabric around your hips —

“Might as well take advantage of them.”

He moves hungrily. He’s everywhere, sliding into your underwear and across your breasts, his big arms and suffocating biceps enveloping your entire frame.

“Joel—”

But he claps a hand over your mouth, silencing any hope of your pleas being effective.

“Think I haven’t seen you? Your lil’ looks…” a low laugh, “n’ those fuckin’ clothes?” God, the rumble, the sheer want in his voice hammers at your initial resistance, and you feel yourself welcoming the feel of his thick, long fingers, sliding between your wet folds. You’re clay, melting against the curved, firm wall of his chest.

You mewl pathetically into his palm.

Another low laugh wracks his lungs, dances at the top of your ear.

“Knew you’d be this wet for me.”

“Knew since you got down on your knees,” Joel continues, uncovering your mouth only to ease a few fingers between your lips — lips that part as though commanded, and a mouth that welcomes and caresses whatever it receives, “‘N opened this pretty lil’ mouth for me to fuck it. Can’t close my eyes without seein’ you like that — so fuckin’ needy.” He exhales from between his teeth, signalling his approval while you suck him down to the knuckles.

His fingers tease your clit and you give him your thanks by pleasuring those of his other hand.

When his hands move, it’s to hold you steady and balanced as he drags your underwear down your legs. That thick, heavy cloud of arousal hides any and all rational thoughts from view.

And he knows. He knows you’re past the point of no return, restraining you only out of his desire to rather than out of a real need to. He knows from the whine you breathe at the loss of his hand against your clit, moving to work at his belt buckle instead.

“Gonna use a condom?” You breathe, emboldened by your clearing senses at the temporary lack of stimulation.

At first, you think he’s missed your taunt.

He backs up, pulling your hips along with him until the tips of your fingers are no longer touching the decaying wall before you. Joel pulls you upright and against him with an arm around your waist and a hand around your throat, turning your head and tilting it back to meet your eyes.

You grasp onto his forearms, failing to stand, unable to breathe. His hardness digs into your back, and his cruel eyes show you just how much pleasure he takes in your struggle.

“Don’t like to waste ‘em,” he finally answers, rocking his cock against your spine, “But I will if you beg. You gonna beg?”

He manipulates your answer, fingers moving to your red-hot core — he barely grazes the nerves, only dancing over the needy flesh. You can’t tear your eyes from him either, tethered to your body through his gaze.

Joel Miller was a frustrating lover.

“N-no,” is your answer, slightly strangled and softly stuttered.

He smiles. “S’what I thought.” Then, “Show me what you can do, angel,” he coos, lips just inches away from yours, his hold on your body relaxing —

“Use your pretty lil’ hands n’ put my cock where you want it most.”

And you both know exactly where that is.

After a nod, Joel allows you to bend forward slowly — it’s like moving through honey. Your legs burn with effort as you reach between your legs to wrap a hand around his thick, hard length.

Christ, he’s huge.

He groans when you touch him and uses his own hand to help guide his tip between your folds. One hand holds your waist, fingers extended under your ribs to support your weight in a skilled show of experience.

With his tip at your aching entrance, you try to lean back, to slide yourself slowly down his many inches.

But Joel doesn’t allow it.

He pushes into you in one go, clicking his tongue at your strangled gasp —

The man hadn’t even bothered to open you up with his fingers.

“Ah, c’mon,” he condescends, “You can take it.”

Then he’s setting a hard pace, hands moving from your hips to your ribs to your biceps to your hair to your neck — anywhere he wanted to go, he went. One eventually comes to the front of your throat, tilting your eyes back and up towards the ceiling. Every one of his thrusts arches your back further until you’re contorting into a half-moon shape, standing only by the grace of his support.

And it feels so good. Joel fills you up to the brim, takes you to heaven and floods your ears with hymns, punishes you in the kind of way you’d only experienced in dreams.

Words tumble out, but they’re filled with nothingness. “Joel,” “fuck,” and “yesohgodyes,” quickly become staples of your vocabulary.

He laughs whenever you sob, grows harder every time you moan, restrains you when you try to run away.

The hand around your throat tightens, digging unforgivably into the flesh as you start to let go, as your walls begin to clench and flutter appreciatively around his cock.

“M’I making you happy, sweetheart? My cock making you smile?” He asks gruffly, pulling you back into his chest. Joel readjusts you into whatever shape you need to be in at the new angle, hips still slamming into your ass. Struggling to stand on your tiptoes, he steadies you with his arms and his hand on your jaw, forcing you to look up into his rugged face.

“Mmhm,” is all you can offer him, the pitch jumping up halfway through when the head of his cock grazes that perfect spot inside your cunt.

He doesn’t let up.

“Show me, baby—” he commands, out of breath, too, but not nearly as tortured as you, “—Show me your smile.”

You do your best, smiling up at him, degrading yourself even more at the hands of Joel-fucking-Miller. And he eats it up, loves the way your grin turns into a bitten lip and knit eyebrows over closed eyes, slowing his thrusts to rock even deeper inside you.

You moan something unintelligible, and a laugh rustles through your tangled hair.

“Am I makin’ you come?”

You nod, feeling that familiar rush of pressure blooming somewhere within that throbbing bundle of nerves under his spell.

He smirks in pride and victory, the last look you get before your head falls against his shoulder, your muscles going lax as the peak builds, as your half-sobs grow louder.

“S’it, baby, tell ‘em,” he coos, nipping and sucking the skin on the side of your throat. “Gonna tell the whole street how you take it like a good lil’ slut.”

His fingers fall to your clit, enticing you right over the edge. You vision blurs and your legs shake, but Joel talks you through your orgasm, sweet nothings starting with, “S’right — show me — yes, fuck — good girl…”

And then —

He stops.

You whine, stars dancing before your eyes as the mean, mean man inside you refuses to fuck you through your climax.

“Joel,” you plead, grinding back against him in a pathetic show of need, “Come with me.”

He does the opposite, sliding himself out of your sore opening. You turn to face him, restoring your balance with hands against his chest, gazing up at him in desire-stricken reproach.

“Use your mouth,” he says, voice gruff at your ruined sight and from his own hand on his cock, keeping his arousal level, “Not gettin’ any more help from me.”

It’s unclear whether ‘help’ means pills or his cock, but you assume both to be safe.

You try to argue (having spent the last few weeks dreaming of Joel dripping down your legs) but he just won’t budge.

Then, his voice softens.

“You know your dad’d kill me, angel.”

And it’s really the sweetness of his tone that does it.

Sinking to your knees, it’s déjà vu when you open wide for him, steadying your shaking knees with both hands on his half clothed, half naked hips. Gravel and debris dig painfully into your bare knees, but you ignore the sting, smiling instead at the taste of yourself on Joel’s cock, lips sliding adoringly down the thick length of it.

He groans his approval, tangling his fingers in your hair to help guide your movements.

As you take him in again and again and again, pleasing every inch of him, he chokes out a laugh.

“Never seen you so quiet,” he muses (mostly to himself), caressing your cheekbone with his free hand —

“Gagged by an old man’s cock.”

You pull off, pumping him with both hands, asking breathlessly, “Are you all so big?”

He smiles, eyes darkening at the dirty compliment. “Give you a few numbers n’ you can tell me.”

God, he’s beautiful from down here.

You hold his attention and lick a slow stripe down the underside of his cock, half-grinning up at his lust-filled expression.

“I only want yours, Joel Miller.”

An uneasy inhale as you take him back in, his brows furrowing and his cock growing impossibly harder. Your words please him, he returns by groaning orders and praises like: “S’all yours, baby — take it all — take aaall that dick — good fuckin’ girl.”

He’s so close and you know it, moaning in submission at his hand’s pressure against the back of your head. With your nose crunched into his abdomen, you hold your throat open for him to use it however he pleases — reduced to nothing more than the man’s plaything.

There’s a low “ah, fuck,” from above, and then you finally know what Joel Miller tastes like.

It’s better than the Plan B.

You hear nothing beyond his recovering breaths, feel nothing past pride, lust, and exhaustion.

Eventually, he loosens his grip. You pull off of him delicately, drawing a groan from between his gritted teeth when you make sure to suck every last drop of his seed into your mouth.

Sitting back on your ankles, you roll your head up to face him.

He swipes a thumb under your lips, clearing the saliva connecting you to his softening cock.

“Still mad at me?” He asks.

You’d be crazy to say yes.

“Only for pulling out.”

You note the twitch at the corner of his mustache.

Joel helps you back on your feet, using one hand to pull you up by your arm and another to arrange himself back to decency.

You adjust your shirt; Joel fixes your skirt. It’s a strange kind of silence settling inside this pocket at the side of a random, ruined building.

Then, your company clears his throat, that mask of seriousness falling over his expression once again.

“You gonna be smart?”

What ever could he mean?

Stay away from him? Stay away from men? Practice abstinence? Use protection?

Either way, you’re not one to make promises you know you can’t keep.

You cross your arms.

“No.”

He sighs.

Well, looks like things are already back to normal.

His face softens and he shakes his head, already regretting his next words. “Just — just come find me, then. I won’t do… this again, but — but I’ll help.”

You frown.

“What do you mean, ‘this’?”

He stares down into your accusatory eyes with a look you’d received many times from him, one screaming, “get real.”

“Fine,” you mutter, breaking eye-contact, “Thank you.”

With a stoic nod, he walks around you, heading back into the night. You try, in vain, to watch him go in silence — god knows you had some thinking to get to — and find that, instead of getting it out of your system, the entanglement had only left you wanting for more.

And more and more.

“Is this what you meant?” and you hear his footsteps halt, “When you told me you’d do worse than kill me? When I tried to hit you?”

It comes out before you can help it, and you twist around to face his still, broad shoulders.

You can hear the smile teasing his lips as he utters the words.

“Why are you askin’ me that?”

Still facing his back, you break into a smile of your own. “So I’ll know what I have to do to get you to do it again.”

You watch him shake his head, grey-streaked ripples in the low light.

“Try your best not to find out, angel.”

With that, he disappears into the darkness, leaving you in the flickering doorway. Thighs aching, heart racing, you take a deep breath, trying to memorize the feeling of what it felt to have them taken from you by Joel Miller.

A feeling you’d chase.

—

Put your red boots on

Baby, giddy up

Baby wants a dance

Baby gets her way

Dreamy nights

Talk to me with that whiskey breath

Twirl me twice

I'll treat you like a holiday

And don't say you're over me

When we both know that you ain't

Don't say you're over me

Baby, it's already too late

Just do what you do best with me

Dance me all around the room

Spin me like a ballerina, super high

Dance me all around the moon

Light me up like the 4th of July

Once, twice, three times

The guy I ever thought I would meet, so

Don't say you're over me

When we both know that you lie

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

When you lie down right next to me

Get your jacket on

Be a gentleman

Get into your truck

And pick me up at eight

'Cause we were built for

The long haul freight train

Burnt by fire

Without trial like a stowaway

And don't say you're over me

When they all know that you ain't

If you lay down right next to me

Dance me all around the room

Spin me like ballerina super high

Dance me all around the moon

Like six times 'til I'm sick and I cry

Once, twice, three times

The guy I ever thought I would meet, so

Don't say you're over me

When they all know that you're lying

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Lie, you lie

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Lie, you lie

When you lie down right next to me

—

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[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: anon request - "Hey so it's my birth day tmr and was just wondering if you could write something for me like Zach justice x reader and he has a guest on the podcast and he gets jealous and the at the end of the podcast they have a cute moment before leaving and going home for like a rough but passionate smut" 

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, Matt Rife Warning, Zach being Zach, banter, guest flirting with reader, Zach getting jealous, kissing, biting, hair pulling, slight choking, slightly rough and unprotected sex, fluff with a dash of filth 

Word count: 4.9k | unedited

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

"So are you finally going to tell me who the special guest is?" You ask as you look at Zach through your phone screen. 

He laughs, "Mm, what's in it for me?" 

"Because tomorrow is my birthday and you'll be making me happy?" You say slowly and laugh, "come on." You pout into the camera and Zach sighs, "Stop being cute." 

You smirk slightly and tilt your head as he continues, "or at least come be cute in my bed." You let out a laugh, "I think that that's my cue for going to bed." 

"Laaaame." Zach drags out loudly. You scoff, "excuse me?" He laughs, "I said saaame. Goodnight." 

You roll your eyes, "goodnight." 

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

You show up to the house and walk through the door. Tara is standing with Alyssa and you walks up to them, "Hey." 

"Hey!" Tara says, "Are you excited for today's show?" 

You roll your eyes, "Zach wouldn't tell me who's coming." Alyssa laughs, "Really?" You nod, "I called him last night to see if he would tell me.. nope." 

"Oh, well it's Matt Rife." Alyssa fills you in, "I have a feeling that Zach is going to be very jealous today." 

Your brows furrow and you look between her and Tara, "Why.. um, why do you say that?" Tara rolls her eyes, "Please. That man is head over heels for you, y/n." 

You laugh, shaking your head, "There'a no way." 

"Alright party people, let's get ready to get this show on the road." Zach yells as he walks to his seat, "Special guest will be here in five." 

You roll your eyes and make your way to your seat. Matt is going to sit where you normally sit, which is right next to Zach, so you sit in the seat next to Matt's. 

"Fuck, sorry I'm late." Matt says as he rushes in through the door, "I'm here now." 

Zach holds his hand up, "There he is. What's up, brother?" Matt walks up to Zach and give him a hand shake. He looks over at Jared saying hello to him and Tara before he look at you. 

You're not looking at him, but you can tell his eyes are on you, and Zach secretly hates it already. Matt sits down and he waves to Alyssa, "Hey." 

Alyssa smiles and puts her headphones on, along with everything else.

"What's up everybody, welcome back to drop outs." Zach says and you all cheer, "We have a special guest with us today, and it also happens to be very special day for someone else." 

"Haaa-py biirthday.." Jared initiates by singing and soon everyone joins in. 

"Happy birthday dear y/n. Happy birthday to you!" 

"Thank you." You smile, "Thank you." 

"Alright, now moving on to the more special part." Zach says and motions to Matt, "Matt Rife everybody." 

"What's uppp." Matt smiles before looking to Zach, "Don't be mean to her. It's her birthday." 

Zach looks taken aback for a split second before covering it up, "Yeah, you're definitely new here." Zach rolls his eyes, "Anyway." 

"Oh. Wait!" Tara yells and stands up as she takes her headphones off. She runs off the set and over to her bag. Everyone is watching her and she comes back over with a tiara that says Birthday Girl in cursive, "Here!" 

"Weird way to propose, but my answer is still yes." You laugh and look up at her from the tiara in your hands, "Thank you." 

She takes it from your hands, placing the tiara gently on your head and fixes your hair, "You heard it here first everyone, this bitch is mine." 

Zach raises an eyebrow as you look over at him and you roll your eyes as you smirk, "Zach." He shrugs, "What? You were thinking it too because you wouldn't have accepted Tara's marriage proposal if you didn't." 

You tilt your head, raising your hand as you shrug, "Okay." You look over at Tara, "You got me there." 

Tara puts her headphones on and leans in with a smirk, "I think I actually just fell in love with you, y/n." She laughs and you smile as you look around. 

As the rest of you get lost in conversation, Zach's eyes zone in on the tiara resting perfectly on your head. His mind goes to watching you drop down to your knees and bob your head on his dick with it on. 

"I think Zach fell asleep on us." Jared teases, "What the hell man? Are we that boring today?" Jared laughs and Zach looks at everyone, "I'm just not feeling it today." 

"Everyone hold on." Alyssa laughs, "He's up to something." 

"Are you okay, Zach?" You ask looking at him and he nods slightly, "Yeah," Quickly changing the subject, "So Matt, your profession is comedian, right?" 

Matt nods, "Something like that, yeah." 

"Huh." Zach nods, "What is your favorite thing to do within the show?" Matt purses his lips as he thinks, "Crowd work." 

"That was my favorite thing to do at our live show." Tara nods, "getting to interact with the people was so fun." 

"Exactly, exactly. And most of the people who come to my shows, know exactly what they're in for." Matt continues and you nod, "I can can agree that." 

Matt turns his head, "You've been to one of my shows?" He smirks slightly and you smile, "I have." 

"Which one?" He tilts his head and you laugh, "Liberty, I think? Cincinnati or something. I don't know but you went back and forth with someone who was a stripper." 

Matt laughs and that causes Zach to clench is fist. He reflexed when Tara started talking, but he resorted to picking at his nails. 

"Wait wait wait you need to eleborate." Tara laughs, "Please." 

"Yeah we need context of this stripper incident." Jared laughs and Matt sighs, laughing as he starts to tell the story. 

You look past Matt and stare at Zach. 

His stare is on you and you squint your eyes at him. He  purses his lips slightly and quickly winks at you. You smirk and so does he because he has you blushing. 

"so yeah, but like I said, people basically pay to come get bullied by me." Matt nods, eyes flicking from your eyes to your chest. 

"Have you ever hurt anyone's feelings by doing that?" Zach asks and Matt laughs, "Dude, are you not caught up with me?" 

Zach sighs, "What the heck." He pulls out his phone and starts to google him, "Matt Rife Controversies." 

"I love how he made controvers-ies, like more than one." Alyssa laughs and Jared nods, "Uh huh. Right." 

"So while we wait, "Y/n. Are you excited about your big birthday bash tonight?" Tara says moving around to get comfortable, "I can tell you that I am so fucking ready to drink." 

You nod, "Oh my god. I actually can't wait. I just got pictures of the venue being set up and it looks so good so far." You pull out your phone and go to the pictures. 

You hand your phone to Tara and she swipes through, "Oh hell yeah." 

"What time does it start?" Matt asks and you look at him, "You can come anytime after eight." He nods, "anytime after eight, got it." 

This had Zach's blood boiling, "So you have made a lot of people mad." Zach chuckles, really wanting this podcast to be done and over with already. 

Matt laughs, "Yeah, yeah. But I mean, that's honestly party of the gig." He shrugs, "I'm not for everyone and that is something that actually took a while for me to come to good terms with." 

You carry on the conversation and a few others for the next hours and a half. 

Zach couldn't wait until Alyssa said you all were good so he can finally get you alone for more than a few seconds. 

Once the time comes he rips his headphones off of his head and rests them on the mic, "Thank you for coming onto the podcast, Mr. Rife." 

Matt stands up, shaking his hand, "Thanks for having me." He points to you, "I hate to rush off but I have a few other things to do, but I'll see you guys later, yeah?" 

You nod, "See ya." You wave and Tara waves, "Bye, Matt!" Alyssa waves and says by to him and right before he walked out he turns back, "Happy birthday, sweetheart." 

Zach wanted to mock him horribly, but that would just be so out is the blue that people would start to question it, so he turns his eyes to you. 

You smile and nod, looking back at him, "Thank you." 

Matt gives you a wink and you turn back around, "Are we getting ready at my place or.. where do you want to meet?" You ask Tara and Alyssa. 

"We can do it at my place." Alyssa nods, "Plus, I am close to the venue, so if we did need to we walk it's not far at all." 

"Yes that works." You nod, "Okay. I'm going to go home and get my stuff ready. I will meet you guys at Alyssa's say.. six?" 

They both nod and you give them a thumbs up, "Love yas. See yas." You go to turn and walk away but Zach walks up to you, "Hold your horses for a second." 

You laugh and you turn around, mocking him, "I don't have horses." He smirks and tilts his head, "C'mere for a sec would ya?" 

"Why?" You sigh, tilting your own head, "I need to go shower." He smirks, "You'll get a shower, I promise now come here." 

He pulls you into the hallway leading to the stairs and he looks down at you. You and Zach have been good friends for a while now, even made out when he took you home drunk the one night. 

You know the look he's giving you. You take a quiet breath, "Who told you?" 

He smirks, "Eyes talk, sweetheart." 

You bite your lip and you smile, "So are you coming home with me because I need to get my shit around." 

He tilts his head, "Do you want me to come home with you?" You chew on your lip, this wave of boldness washing over you. 

You lean in, "I have my own house. No one can hear anything." You lean back and smirk as you tilt your head towards the door, "Come on." 

He follows you out to the car and gets into your passengers seat. You get in and look over at him, "So can I ask you something?"

You start your car and start to back out of the parking space and Zach nods, reaching over to slip his fingers into the rip of your jeans. 

His gentle touch right above your knee driving you absolutely insane, "So, why now?" You glance over at him and he furrows his brows, "not following." 

You sigh, laughing slightly, "why did you wait until now to finally tell me that you liked me, too?" 

"I didn't say a word." 

You look over at him, tension building rapidly the longer your eyes hold on his, "You didn't have to." 

You lick your lips and look away, beginning to drive when the light turns green. His finger still brushing against your leg, itching for you to grab his hand and hold it within yours. 

"So how do you feel about Matt being on the podcast?" You look over at Zach and he shrugs, "It is what it is." You roll your eyes, resting your arm on the consol as you dangle your hand right above his wrist, finger tips barely grazing his skin. 

"Why are you acting like it wasn't a good podcast? I mean other than you being pouting and flirting with me on the down low." 

You poke his arm and Zach groans, "Alright, you yanked my dick enough." He laughs and you roll your eyes, "You wish I did." 

He points to you and smirks, "And that my friends, is a true statement." 

You laugh, "Get on with it." You say as you pull into your driveway. You put the car in park and reach down to unbuckle, "We're not leaving this car until you tell me what I wanna know." 

Zach opens his mouth, repeating exactly what you say at the same time you do, "It's my birthday, Zach. You have to be nice." 

Your mouth drops and he gives you a nod, "Yes, princess. It's your birthday. Now.." he tilts his head, fighting back a laugh, "we needed to talk, and it needed to be somewhere you could take your clothes off.. " he fights back a smirk, "So, we can fuck in here or we can fuck in there." He points to your house and looks back at you. 

You smirk, "who said anything about fuckin'?" He lays a hand on his chest, "Oh is this not why you brought me to your house? My apologies." 

You roll your eyes, "You sound so jealous right now." 

He scoffs, "Jealous of what, y/n?" 

You press your elbow into the center console and rest your chin in your palm, "You know, you flirt, I mean.. fuck around with me every time I'm on the show and every time you see me, but never.." You hold up your pointer finger, and right now he's doing what you're doing and his face in an inch away from your finger. 

"Not once." You move your hand and look into his eyes, "Did you pull me aside and give me that kind of a look." 

"Explain this.. this look." He tilts his head, cheek now resting in the palm of his hand, "But you might want to make it quick because I don't want you to bitch because I made you late." 

You roll your eyes, "You looked at me like you were in love." He slowly grows closer and you lick your lips quickly as your eyes bounce from his to his eyes. 

"You ever think that maybe I am?" He whispers and you can't help but smirk, "I mean.. not like I was going to make that my birthday candle wish or anything."

He laughs, "Okay. I'll give you that one, that one was funny." You laugh and look at him, "Was Matt flirting sure me the final straw?" 

You see him nod slightly and you bite your bottom lip.

His eyes flick down to your held lip and back up to your eyes, "Hey, um don't you have a party you need to get ready for?" 

"Fuck." You laugh, nodding, "Yeah." You look at the house and back to Zach, "Come on." Zach stays still, "Where are we going?" 

You smile and lean in, "So I can show you that you are the one that I want." You press your lips to his and his hand lays on the back of your head, not wanting you to pull away. 

"Mm. Zach." Your giggles muffled by his lips on yours and you manage to lean back, "Hey. Come on." Zach huffs, "way to be a cock block, sweetheart."

He gets out, following you up to your door and his hands are roaming all over your body as you get your key from your key ring. 

His hands slip under you shirt, "Runnin' outta time." Zach mumbles against your head and you push your door open. 

He walks you in, hands on your hips and he uses his door to swing the door closed. You spin around and his body is on yours, a hand on your hip and a hand on the back of your neck, holding you to him as your lips meet his once again. 

By this time, you had totally forgot you were still wearing the tiara that Tara got you and Zach's eyes fixate on it as he remembers what he first thought about. 

"Knees." Zach says as he places his hands on your shoulders. You slowly drop down and you look up at him. He bites down on his bottom lip at he watches you undo his belt, "You know. As soon as that thing sat on the top of your head, I picture you exactly like this." 

You feel your cheeks grow warmer and you let out a breath, "I totally forgot I had that on." Zach smiles, "I didn't." 

You work to get his throbbing dick from his boxers move you've tugged his pants down. Your hand gently gripping the base of it, squeezing gently as you rise up to run your tongue over the head of his leaky head. 

He lets out a groan and bites down on his lip, groaning lowly, "Mm." He looks down at you, "That's it, baby." He lays a hand on the back of your head, fully taking in everything about his fantasy that's coming true. 

He moans lowly as you bob your head up and down, earning a gasp as you take him in fully, "Fuck, babe." Zach throws his head back, "That's my-" he looks down at you and pulls your head away from him. "-girl!" 

You smile up at him and bite down on your lip, saliva dribbling down your chin. He swipes it away with his thumb and he nods towards your bedroom, "Lead the way."

You stand up, taking his hand into yours before you lead him up the stairs and into your bedroom. 

You pull him in and close the door before Zach pulls you into him, lips meeting yours once more. 

You let out a whine, gripping his shirt, "Zach." You whimper, "Please." You push your hips into his, reaching down between you to stroke his cock a few times. 

He groans, hands gripping the hem of his shirt to rip it up over his head, and he places his hands on either side of your neck, "Shit." He breathes out, moving his hands down to your hips, "Get back there." He walks you backwards and it wasn't long until your knees buckled from hitting the bed. 

Your back meets the mattress and Zach's lips meet your neck, "I really.." he speaks in between kisses to your neck, "..want to watch.." he kisses up to just below your ear, "..the birthday girl ride me." 

You nod eagerly, "Please." You beg, "Please; Zach."

Zach chuckles, "And if I'm being honest, your whining and begging is completely boosting my ego-" he very quickly corrects himself, "I mean completely makes me want to cum inside that pretty little pussy." 

You roll your eyes, "your head is swelled either way, Zach." You laugh, "But I'll take the second option please." 

You bite your lip and his grip on your hip tightens before he rolls over to pull you on to his lap. He stares up at you for a few seconds before he nods while glancing towards your shirt, "C'mon now, you just told me you want me to cum inside you. Don't be shy now." 

You smirk, laughing slightly as you pull your shirt up over your head, discarding it to the floor, "Happy now?" 

You smirk at him and his hands move to your boobs with a nod, "oh hell yeah." 

You watch as he looks up at you and with a swift motion, his hand is pulling you down to him by the back of your neck so he can kiss you. 

Your lips move in sync for a few minutes then you suddenly remembered, it's my birthday!

But in panic mode, "Mm." You lean back, "What time is it?" You ask and Zach, obviously frustrated, lets out a short sigh, "Do I look like Father Time to you?" 

"Well if you didn't still have your pants on, I could be on top of you already." You roll your eyes, leaning over to check your phone. 

Zach scoffs, planting a gentle slap to your ass, "Sor-ry, I didn't know taking our time to enjoy this, wasn't on your agenda,too." You bite down on your lip to hide your laugh and you lean back over, looking down at him. 

"I have a little under two hours." You whisper and he nods. His hands move to grip your waist and he slowly rocks your hips over his dick, that's straining against his pants. 

"Zach." You whimper out, "stop teasing." 

He rolls you over onto your back and his hands move to take off your jeans. He slips them down your legs and tosses them. 

His bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes focus on your lace panties lying perfectly against your skin. He leans down, his lips lacing your skin with fiery, open mouth kisses as his fingers drift up your legs. 

His fingers slip into the band of your panties and your hips rise as he pulls them down. His eyes flick up to you and back down to your soaked cunt. 

He drops your panties beside him and locks eyes with you as he pushes both his pants and boxers down before moving to make his way in between your thighs. 

You smirk, tilting your head as he lifts your hips slightly, "You know, you're incredibly hot when you're jealous." 

You feel his dick brush against your clit and you gasp. Zach smirks and pushes the tip between your folds, "Me? Jealous?" He fakes a laughs and leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips, "Over you? Yes." 

He thrusts into you and you let out a loud moan, "Fuck." You whimper out, "That's why it's so hot." He smirks and presses his lips to yours, and you accept his invite to make out. 

His hips roll slowly into yours and you moan into his mouth. He swallows your moans with ears, kissing back towards your ear, "You're so beautiful." 

His voice is low and you slide a hand down his arm and grab his wrist. You drag his hand up your body and place it around your neck.

You look up at him with such a pleading look, Zach can't help but not resist. 

His hand tightens around your throat and you moan out, and your moans quickly grow quieter the harder he squeezes. 

He leans up on his free arm and watches down at how your pussy swallows him with such great ease, "Fuckin' hell baby." 

He looks up at you and his jaw literally falls slack to the scene below him, "Shit." He breathes out as his she's scan over your slightly reddened face, your eyes are rolled back with your lips slightly parted. 

You're just absolutely loving being fucked by him right now. 

His thrusts remained slow as he loosens his grip and you let out a quiet gasp. Zach stops thrusting and gently taps your cheek a few times, "Oh no. I killed her." 

You smile and he sighs, "Phew. Great, because I did not want to have to put necrophiliac on my resume tonight."

You let out a laugh and lean up to push him to him to his back, "I mean, you know you have consent either way." You laugh as you straddle him.

Zach sits up, his face close to yours as he fixes the tiara that's slightly crooked on your head, "Hold on, baby." 

Zach calling you baby and even sweetheart and especially princess, gave you butterflies. Even his jokey insults like slut, and bitch, and yapper number two, but especially slut because you would be his slut. 

Any time of day. 

"Better?" You ask watching him lay back, an arm tucking behind his head, "Better." He bites down on his lip as he watches you lift your one leg to reach down and hold his dick steady. 

You spit into the tip of your fingers and smear it on him which causes him to gasp slightly. You smirk as you slide down onto him, eyes locking with Zach's. 

His hands fly to your hips. You grip his forearms as you pant, gasping out at how deep he feels inside of you. 

"Move. Sweetheart." Zach squeezes your hips, urging you to move in some type of way. You let out a whine as you roll your hips slowly, crying out Zach's name and other curses lowly. 

"Use me to get yourself off, sweetheart." He winks, "I just wanna watch." 

You smirk and you lean back, placing your hands on his knees for support. You bite down on your lip and keep your eyes locked on his as you start to move your hips up and down. 

Zach positions one arm behind his head again, and places his hand under your thigh. His eyes move down to your pussy taking his dick, then he looks up at your tits bouncing each time your body meets his. 

His eyes roll closed and his hips buck upward, "Goddamn." He groans out, "S-swe-etheart.. you're gonna make me cum." 

You lean down, pressing kisses to his before you lean up, "Isn't that the point?" You ask, rolling your hips into his, moaning out quietly, "Zach." 

He sits up and flips you over so your hips are pinned to the mattress, "I'd say you got about, maybe an hour to shower and get all your stuff around before you have to leave to get ready." 

"Just fuck me." You whine, sitting up as you pull him towards you. His lips crash onto yours and you feel his hands push your thighs back, knees to chest type of deal. 

You moan loudly, arching you back as Zach slides his dick back in to you, "What's the birthday princess want, baby?" Zach pants out and you dig your nails into his back, "I-I need you to cum in me." 

Zach bites his lips, laughing slightly, "It's a risky move. I love it." He picks up the speed of his thrusts and sloppily presses a kiss to your lips, "I love you." 

You freeze, "W-h- wai-" you laugh slightly, "Zach." He kisses up to your lips, "Mm. Wh-Wai- what, baby?"

"What di-"

Zach cuts you off, "I'll tell you later." He presses his lips to yours and you let out a loud moan as he thrusts his dick into you fully. 

"Your arms tighten around his neck and you whimper in his ear, "I love you, too." 

You feel his body tense and his grip on your hips tightens, "Say it again." He mumbles, turning his head in to kiss your neck, "Please." 

You slide your arms down, laying your hands on his neck, moaning out as you squeeze his dick with your, desperate for release walls, "F-fuck.. Zach." You whimper out, "I love you." 

You let out a moan, arching your back as you feel yourself quickly become engulfed with an intense pleasure. 

Zach fucks you through your high, listening to every sound he can pull from you, "So fuckin' pretty." Zach grips your chin and his thrusts grow sloppy and slow. 

You bite your lip as you feel his dick twitch inside of you and you look up at him. He raises his brows and lets out a sigh, "You told me to." 

"I know." You laugh and reach over to grab your phone, "Fuck." You jump up, "If you're showering with me, let's go. But we're not fucking around." 

Zach stands up, following you to your bathroom, "Yeah, you say that now. How much time you have?" 

"Forty five minutes." You turn the shower on and Zach bites his lip, "Give me five of those minutes while we're in here."

You smirk and pull him into the shower with you, "Let's see it."

—

You were still shocked that Zach got you both off in five minutes before you rushed around and went to Alyssa's, but that was only after Zach trapped you in the car for another make out session while dropping him off. 

Your party was going very, very well. 

Everyone was having the time of their lives, and honestly so were you, you loved the attention but the only attention you wanted was from one person and his eyes have been on you all night. 

His stare begging to get you alone. 

You had to admit, Zach losing his final straw today was the best birthday gift ever, his jealously was super sexy.

"You look bored." You say walking up to him, "My party not good enough for you?" Zach laughs and leans in, "Nah, I just can't stop thinking about how pretty you sounded earlier." 

You feel your cheeks darken and he smirks, "Happy birthday, Princess." 

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

I hope you liked this! I'm going to get some Sam snippets out so in the mean time, tell me what you thought about this. Ilysm! 🖤

likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[achilles-rage]

Good Luck Charm: Chapter 20

college football player!buck x plus size!reader

summary: you go back to school early to attend a new year’s eve party.

word count: 3.5k

previous chapter

series masterlist

a/n: the last chapter!!! screaming crying throwing up fr. i’ll definitely post an epilogue though, and maybe some other short drabbles because i’m gonna miss them :// i also wanna thank everyone who reads this fic, i appreciate it so much!!! anyway, enjoy<3

warnings: a hint of smut, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

MDNI- 18+ only!

Two long weeks later, it’s finally time for you and Evan to go back to school. You continued to sneak into Evan’s room each night, and had managed not to get caught each time his hands started to wander, innocent touches becoming something entirely different.

While you did tease him about keeping his hands to himself the first night, you were a little surprised when his hands traveled down your soft tummy and traced the waistband of your panties. You almost stopped him; the fear of getting caught clear in your mind, but your words were cut short when his hand dipped under the fabric and ghosted over your clit. His lips were on yours before you could make a sound, and when he finally pushed his cock into your dripping cunt, his lips were replaced with his hand as he whispered how good you were being into your ear.

This morning is no different. You wake up early; earlier than either of your parents, Evan’s bare chest against your back warming you up immensely.

“Are you sad to be leaving?” he whispers, his hot breath hitting the back of your neck. You hum softly, shrugging as you think about it. You turn in his grip before you answer, unable to fight back a smile as Evan’s face studies yours with a lovesick expression.

“I love my parents, but I think I get along with them better when we’re apart. Spending some time with them is nice, but I’m glad I’m not living here all the time.” you tell him in the same hushed tone. He nods, seeming to understand where you’re coming from. When he’s at school, sometimes his parents call to catch up, and he can almost pretend that he’s close with his parents when that happens.

“I’m glad. Because now we can go to the New Year’s party at Delta Phi.” he says in a teasing tone. You roll your eyes, laughing softly. He practically begged you to leave a couple of days early so you’d be back for the party once he found out that the theme of the party was to celebrate the university’s sports teams. “Now I can see you in my jersey again. Like old times.” is how he put it when he asked, and you couldn’t say no.

It had been a while since you were able to wear his jersey, and the last time you had, he ended up in the hospital, so a part of you was eager to get some better memories of wearing it.

“You really do like to party, don’t you?” you tease, laughing as he scoffs.

“Come on, they’re fun. You can’t tell me you didn’t like the parties I brought you to, other than the first one.” he says, his jaw clenching when he speaks about the first party you went to a party with him. He still has to see Jared at practice, but for the most part, Jared tries to steer clear of him, and he’s thankful. As much as he wants to fucking kill him for what he did, he knows that wouldn’t be the best idea.

“Alright, they’re not as bad as I thought they’d be. But that doesn’t mean I’d pick going to a party over, like, a movie night. But I like when you get all protective.” you tease, leaning in to kiss him softly. You can feel his fist clenching at your side, where he was holding your hip, and you know what he’s thinking about. You’ve stuck close to Evan at every party since then, and he always has to have a hand on you. Either an arm around your shoulder, or his hand in yours, or on the small of your back. He won’t let you leave his sight.

“Gotta protect my girl. Always.” he tells you earnestly, his hand unclenching as he lets out a breath. He knows he’s more upset about the situation than you are, even though it happened to you, but he can’t help it. He still feels a little guilty for even losing you in the first place.

“And you always do. From people and from the dark.” you tease, and he chuckles. Then in an instant, he moves to pin you to the bed, his body positioning itself between your legs, making you squeal softly in surprise as you giggle. He shushes you softly, lowering his face to the crook of your neck as his hands pin your wrists to the bed beside your head.

“Gotta be quiet, baby. I’ve gotten through two weeks without your dad hating my guts. Can’t start now.” he murmurs against your neck before beginning to trail kisses across your skin. You bite your lip as you tilt your head back, reveling in the feeling of his lips on you. Truth be told, your mom has caught you a couple of times in his room, not that either of you have been awake to notice. She stands near the door with a smile on her face each time, seeing you cuddled up together. She thinks it’s sweet, and she’d never tell your dad, anyway. This is not one of those mornings, evidently.

“We can’t have that.” you whisper, meeting his gaze as he pulls away from your neck. He smirks, moving your wrists up above your head and grabbing them with one hand, then his other moves down to push your shirt up over your plush tummy and chest.

Once your shirt is bunched up above your tits, his eyes trail down your body as he licks his lips. He’s so glad you only ever sleep with an oversized shirt and panties, like you’re just begging him to take care of you.

He leans down and gives you a short, but passionate, kiss, then moves down to your neck again. You bite your lip as his kisses move further down your neck, and he moves his face away for just long enough to move below your shirt, then begins to kiss down the valley of your breasts to your round tummy. He hums softly as he presses featherlight kisses to the skin littered with stretch marks, nipping and sucking softly as he goes.

He loves marking your tummy; he loves seeing the marks that are for his eyes only, and he likes the way it makes you squirm, but he also loves it seems to make you feel more confident. He loves your soft belly, and he’ll keep leaving marks across it until you love it completely, too.

His hands move down to your hips, grabbing and harshly pulling your panties down your legs with a low grunt, now leaning back on his knees to look at all of you.

“God, I love you.” he whispers once you’re left in nothing but your bunched up shirt, his fingers moving up your inner thighs.

You inhale a shaky breath as he leans down until his face is directly in front of your core. He smirks as he keeps eye contact with you, and the last thing he says before his tongue makes contact with your slick folds is “My gorgeous girl. I’m gonna ruin you.”

You get back to your apartment at around 6, which is still much earlier than when you have to go to the party, but after waking up early and driving all day, you feel like you need a nap before you get ready. Buck dropped you off, and after insisting on carrying your bags up for you, he gave you a sweet kiss and told you he’d be back around 10:00 before he went back to his place.

Your eyelids flutter open an hour or so later, and since you showered this morning, and you know you’ll probably get some form of alcohol spilled on you tonight, you don’t bother showering. Since you now have some time before Evan picks you up, you drag yourself out of bed and into the living room, flopping down onto the couch your roommate isn’t currently sprawled out on.

“How was your break?” she asks innocently, although her expression is anything but. She knows you brought Evan to meet your parents, and she has been patiently waiting since you left for any little detail of your visit. You didn’t want to tell her over text, so you kept telling her you’d update her when you got back. And since she got back four days before you did, she had begged you to tell her, claiming she was too bored and lonely all alone to wait.

“Well, my dad doesn’t hate him.” you tell her with a smile. She laughs, rolling onto her side to face you with a smirk.

“Tell me everything right now.” she urges, and you roll your eyes. She watches you intently as you begin to tell her, leaving out the parts about you sneaking into his bed every night, for the most part.

Just like promised, Evan buzzes your apartment intercom at 10pm, and your roommate lets him in, as you’re still finishing up your makeup. It’s nothing crazy, just some mascara and lip gloss, but you waited a little too long before you started to get ready; instead spending your time catching up with your roommate.

He walks into the bathroom, eyes trailing down your figure as you bend over the counter to touch up your lip gloss. You’re wearing your favourite pair of jeans and a white long sleeve shirt, knowing you’ll get cold in just Evan’s jersey on the walk to and from the party. You jump slightly in surprise as Evan lets out a low whistle, turning to see him leaning in the doorway. He’s wearing a white hoodie under his own jersey, and you can’t help your eyes traveling down to his broad chest. God, how did you get so lucky?

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” he asks in a teasing tone, closing the distance between you and dropping your jersey onto the counter before he pulls your hips against his. He meets your lips in a kiss, and you whine softly as you pull back, frowning.

“I just put on lip gloss.” you say, fighting back a smile as you look up at his lips, now shiny and glittery. You reach up and wipe it off with your thumb, and he chuckles softly once you pull your hand away.

“And you can put on some more. I wanna kiss you.” he tells you sternly, then leans in for another kiss.

“Your teammates are gonna make fun of you if you keep doing that. You’re gonna walk into the party with lip gloss all over your face.” you tease once you lean back again, but letting him kiss you for longer this time. You wipe off the lip gloss again, then push him away by putting your hands on his chest. He rolls his eyes, but lets you push him back, then watches you intently as you turn back to the mirror and fix your makeup.

Once you’re finished, you grab the jersey off the counter and throw it on, tucking one side into your jeans so it doesn’t look so awkwardly long.

“You ready, princess?” he asks once you turn to face him. You smile, nodding as you grab his hand and maneuver around him to lead him out of the bathroom. You meet your roommate near the door, ready to walk over with both of them. She’s going to the party anyway, and you’d rather her walk with you and Evan than walk over alone, even if she’s meeting some of her other friends there.

It’s a quick walk over, as your roommate is already a little drunk, and cannot seem to keep her mouth shut. You walk hand in hand with Evan as she walks in front of you, barely even paying attention as she rants on and on about the party.

“Is she gonna be okay once we get there? I kinda don’t want to leave her alone.” Evan whispers to you as she keeps talking. You look up at him, your heart swelling in your chest. You know he’s protective of you, but him being protective of your friend as well makes your heartbeat quicken.

“She’s meeting a few friends there; she should be fine. One of them is staying sober too, so she can keep an eye on her.” you tell him, and he nods slowly. Although this calms him, he still feels a little nervous about it.

“And, her friend’s boyfriend is on the lacrosse team. He said he’d keep an eye on them.” you tell him, and he nods, letting out a breath. That makes him feel a lot better.

“Yeah! He’s gonna set me up with a hot lacrosse player! It’s a sports party, and I don’t have a jersey. Gotta get one somewhere.” your roommate tells you as she turns her head to look over her shoulder at you two. You both let out laughs as she smirks and raises her brows a few times.

“I have faith in you.” Evan responds, and you roll your eyes, shaking your head. You watch as she turns on her heel and walks up to him, forcing you both to stop in your tracks. She raises a hand and puts it on his shoulder, looking up at him with a serious expression.

“You don’t know how much that means to me.” she says, swaying gently side to side. Evan furrows his brows as he lets out a confused laugh while you laugh loudly. Her head snaps to you as you laugh, then takes her hand off of Evan’s shoulder and puts it on yours.

“You’re so lucky you already have a jersey. I love you guys.” she tells you, then throws herself at you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders. You stumble back, shaking your head as you wrap your arms around her torso, hugging her back.

“Alright, let’s go get you that jersey.” Evan says in a teasing tone, making eye contact with you over your roommate’s shoulder. He winks at you as she finally pulls away, mumbling a quiet “good idea” as she turns and starts walking towards the party again.

The party is in full swing once you drop your roommate off with her friends and Evan says hi to a bunch of his teammates throughout the party. You’re staying close to Evan, getting jostled around as people sway to the music and shove their way through the crowd around you. He keeps his arm firmly wrapped around your shoulder, only letting you go when he grabs both of you a beer. You aren’t a huge fan of the taste, but you take it with a smile, figuring that you’d rather be a little buzzed and deal with the taste than have to endure the lights and noise around you sober.

Just like clockwork, Evan starts to get more handsy when he’s a few drinks in, keeping his front pressed against your back as he holds you close to him. His arms are firmly wrapped around your waist, and his chin is resting on your shoulder as he sways you back and forth with the music.

“Have I told you how good you look in my jersey?” he says in your ear, practically having to yell in order for you to hear him over the music. You laugh softly, rolling your eyes. You’ve had a few drinks, but you’re nowhere near drunk, not as drunk as him, and his clinginess makes your face heat up.

“Yeah, a couple times.” you respond in a teasing tone, turning in his grip to angle your face towards his. He grins, then leans down and gives you a sloppy kiss on your neck, mumbling a “good” as he does. You tilt your head to the side as he kisses you, grinning as you shake your head.

You continue to dance with him until it’s almost midnight, and you only stop when the party around you starts to feel even more chaotic, if at all possible. You turn in Evan’s grip, wrapping your arms around his neck once you’re face to face with him.

“Hi, baby.” he says over the music, and you giggle softly.

“Hi, my love. It’s almost midnight.” you reply, tilting your head to the side as he continues to sway you both back and forth.

“Yeah? What’s that thing people usually do at midnight, again?” he asks in a slightly teasing tone, then gives you a wink. You roll your eyes, shaking your head.

“I’m not sure, why?” you tease back, laughing more when he scoffs.

“I’m gonna kiss you so hard.” he says with a cocky tone, smirking. You rest your forehead on his chest as you laugh, closing your eyes. He’s such a dork when he gets like this, but you wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Whatever you say, baby.” you tell him once you look up at him again, a smile spreading across your face. He’s about to reply when everyone begins to countdown, and he grins, moving one hand up to your jaw, tilting your head up further.

“I love you.” he whispers right as the clock strikes midnight, and then he meets your lips in a searing kiss. You smile against his lips, hands gripping the front of his jersey as you rise onto your toes, momentarily forgetting that you’re in a room full of people, not that anyone notices, or cares.

You keep one arm around his torso as you both walk up the walkway to his house, his arm wrapped around your shoulder as he leans against you. You fish his keys out of his pocket and unlock the door, which proves difficult as Buck leans against you from behind, hands and lips attached to you, and finally get him to his room. You push him back onto the bed, and he falls back with a low grunt, then smirks as he sits up on his elbows.

“I like where this is going.” he says, licking his lips as he eyes your soft figure. You roll your eyes, then walk over to the edge of the bed, urging him to sit up. You pull his jersey and hoodie over his head in one go, and he raises his arms to help you as you do. You then grab his hands and pull him to stand in front of you, telling him to take off his pants so he can change into sweats to go to bed.

“What are you doing to me? I am not that kind of girl.” he tells you sternly, but his hands move to make quick work of the button and zipper of his jeans. You giggle, watching him pull his pants down and then lay down to let you pull them off of him completely.

“No? Not even for me?” you ask in a sweet voice, a smirk on your face. He shrugs, pursing his lips as he studies your face, then after a moment, a smile erupts on his face.

“Alright. Maybe for you.” he murmurs. You hum softly, then grab a pair of his sweatpants from his closet and toss them at him. He puts them on haphazardly, then stands up and reaches for the hem of the jersey across your chest. “Your turn.” he mumbles as he begins to pull your jersey and your long sleeve shirt up and over your head.

Once your shirts are off, his hands move to your jeans, tugging them down. He watches as you step out of them, and then he grabs your jersey off the bed and puts it back on over your head, humming softly as it falls down your body.

“Perfect.” he murmurs, then cups your cheeks with his hands and kisses you sloppily. You kiss him back, hands resting on his chest as you part your lips, and he eagerily pushes his tongue into your mouth. Once his hands start to wander, grabbing your ass and pushing you against him, you break the kiss, looking up at his puffy lips and blown pupils.

You push him away, muttering a soft “lets go to bed.” He exhales a loud sigh, but obliges, laying down on his back on the bed, and holding his hand out for you to take. You grab it and let him pull you down onto him, resting your cheek against his chest. Once you’re comfortably laying on him, and your leg is thrown over his legs, he sighs in contentment.

“I think I’m gonna keep you forever.” he drawls, his eyelids beginning to grow heavy as he feels his body sinking into the bed and his sheets enveloping him in warmth. You smile, humming softly.

“You better.” you whisper, and he squeezes your thigh softly in response. You can hear his breathing becoming more steady, and you can tell he’s almost asleep, but you speak once more before he falls asleep.

“I love you.” you whisper.

“You know I love you, princess.” he mumbles before sleep finally overcomes him.

next chapter

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[lightofraye]

Debunking Nonsense Against Jared

There's apparently some crap about Jared that is just absolute nonsense. Full of lies and bullshit.

It'd be one thing if people just didn't like him. It happens. Not everyone is likeable. You're not expected to like him. But don't pull up lies to explain why you don't like him. Especially when they've been debunked again and again and again.

1. The "racist" tattoo. Y'all, this is nonsense. It's been debunked over and over and over. It's not a racist tattoo. For one, it's lacking the logo of "Come and take it", which would make it a racist tattoo. But a lone star above a cannon does not a racist tattoo make.

Jared is a proud Texan. He also donates to many a charity and organization that help people, speaking out about them often. Not to mention, prior to pro-gun rights appropriating the symbol and logo, it stood for a proud history in Texas. Jared would've known.

So how about instead of focusing on a mere tattoo, come up with more proof that Jared is a racist? Hmm?

Besides, if you're mad at Jared's tattoo, are you then mad at Jensen's t-shirt, which did show the saying as well?

2. Fighting with fans online. Oh come on. Misha's done it. (Misha's done worse, in fact.) Danneel's done it. Jared doing it does not a bad person make. And I don't think he's done it in a long time.

And of course, people will go "Danneel was hitting back!" And? What's the difference? Jared was hitting back too. Danneel went a step farther most of the time, siccing her followers on them, threatening them with Clif, even ran crying to Clif because people were being "mean".

3. RE: Prequelgate. Give me a fucking break! Jared was right to be upset! He called and texted Jensen for hours before he gave up and responded to that tweet about The Winchesters announcement. Jensen also lied about not being allowed cellphones on The Boys set. When they weren't filming, they were allowed. (Of course they can't have their cellphones on their person during filming, unless it suited the scene!) Besides all that, Jared honestly didn't know about it! Kripke was even shocked when he learned Jared didn't know! Supernatural and its legacy is as much Jared's as it was Jensen's! The whole freakin' industry gave Jensen a massive side-eye for his unprofessional behavior. Kevin Smith, a man who has directed, written, and acted in the industry, thought it was uncool. Also, Jared wasn't drunk.

4. Supposed bully accusations. I'd need to see more of this to believe it, but outside of occasionally putting Misha in his bullshit place, I've never heard of Jared bullying anyone. Everyone he's worked with has sung his praises. The only one who hasn't is Misha and that's because Jared won't let Misha put him down. And in fact, has had to step in to stop Misha from torturing Jensen. So fuck off with your noise.

5. His fanbase. Is he now responsible for his fanbase? I never knew that. What about Misha's fanbase sending Jensen death threats for denouncing Destiel? Has Misha ever stopped that? What about AAs hoping for Jared to suicide after Walker was cancelled?

6. What about Genevieve? Oh come on! Do I like that Gen is featuring the kids a lot? Myself, no. But if Jared was truly bothered by it, I'm sure he would've spoken to Genevieve. And Gen isn't any different than many other mommy influencers. I'm not keen on exploiting the kids like that, but would you say the same about Danneel abruptly grabbing the kids at Wales Comic Con and dragging them out for a photo op? All because she had no one in line for her autographs and desperate for attention?

7. Jared's Hair. Apparently there are some claiming Jared had gotten hair plugs. My response to that is: So what? Misha's had plastic surgery (trust me, it's obvious--his eyes and clearly lip fillers). Danneel's had worse--her hair is fried, bad extensions, plastic surgery galore that has ruined her hair line because of facelifts, fillers, Botox, and breast implants (twice!). Jensen's likely had a bit of work too.

So. Fucking. What. About Jared's hair?

--

Come up with truthful reasons to hate Jared, hmm? Not bullshit.

[prettypinkporkchop]

Okay okay what aboutttt Paul x reader but reader is bi and Paul kinda gets jealous when she checks out other women🙂‍↕️ maybe little heated argument🤫

"I'm not shy, I'll say it! I've been picturing you naked!" You and Kim scream the lyrics to slumber party.

You love Paul more than anyone and anything. He is your soulmate, after all! But you're bi, which he totally accepts! He loves you, period. He doesn't mind you joking around about finding women attractive. Especially if they're celebrities, he doesn't care. But one thing has been bugging him. You're super flirty with Kim. She's straight, but you two just have that friendship. Paul doesn't get it. Also, when you guys go out and you see a pretty girl, you HAVE to tell her she's hot. Most girls do that to each other, right?!

Kim jumps on your couch with her phone as a microphone, "OOOH OOH OH OH OH SLUMBER PARTY!" She screams.

You laugh and admire her beauty. You two are interrupted when Paul and Jared walk into the house. Paul turns off the speaker and crosses his arms with a smile. "You two are something else." He shakes his head.

Jared grabs Kim off of the couch, putting her on the ground. "Did you guys have fun while we were out?" Jared asks.

You hug Paul, shoving your cheek against his bare chest. You nod your head at Jared and then look up at Paul. "I missed you."

He kisses your forehead. "I've missed you too, baby."

Kim and Jared get ready to leave the house. You grab onto Kim and hug her. She giggles and hugs you back. You give her a joking kiss on her cheek. "MWUAHHH!" You exaggerated.

She does the same to you and then jokingly pats your bottom. "Bye, bitch." She winks.

When they leave, you turn to Paul, who looks mad. "Is something wrong?" You step closer to him.

He surprises you by grabbing your arms and moving you out of his way, forcefully. He walks into the bedroom and you hear the door lock.

"Paul? What's wrong?" You knock on the door. You hear nothing come from the other side. "Paul, we can't fix it if you don't talk to me." You wiggle the doorknob.

The lock clicks, and Paul opens the door, glaring at you. "Get your ass on the bed, now." He demands.

You gulp and do as he says. You sit on the edge of the bed. He walks in front of you, fuming. His chest is heaving. You can tell he's thinking of what to say.

"Did you cheat on me with Kim while I was gone?" He asks.

"What?! Are you nuts?" You try not to laugh at how ridiculous he sounds.

"Don't fucking play dumb. You know I hate when you hit on other women. It makes me feel insecure. It makes me feel like you'd rather be with a woman. I've never seen you kiss Kim like that, and I've definitely never seen her touch you like that!" He screams his last sentence and picks up a vase that held your makeup brushes.

You want to cry. He's scaring you. You know when he lifts things while he's mad, he's going to throw it. "Paul, please put that down." You ask.

He scoffs and then tosses it at the wall. It shatters, and your makeup brushes go all over the floor. This set you off. You stand up and push his chest.

"Hey, I've never cheated on you! And you know what, fuck you for even considering that! Just because I like girls does NOT mean I want I want to cheat on you with one!" You scream.

You pushing him made him grab your shoulders and push you onto the bed, not hard. Just trying to keep your hands off of him. He's looking down at you.

"How else am I supposed to feel?"

"Paul, it's not fucking like that!" You squirm under him, kicking your feet. You try to get him off of you.

"I'm not letting you go if you're going to hit me." He warns.

"Pick up the glass, Lahote!" You yell in his face.

He let's you go, standing up and walking away.

You lay on the bed and start crying. You curl into a ball and sniffle. You hear him leave the house, slamming the front door. You just cry until you're asleep.

----

You finally get the courage to step out of the bedroom. You notice Paul is still gone. You check life360. Oh, he's at Sam's. You sigh and walk into the bathroom. It's always the first place you go to when you're upset. You get in the bath and sulk. But the warm water always helps.

You see on the sink, he had bought you relaxing bath oils. There's also roses. The lights are dim, and he set out your comfiest and favorite pajama set. You turn on the water, making your bath very warm.

After sitting in the bath for an hour or so, you get out and wrap a towel around you. You hear the front door open, and the phone on the sink goes off, life360 telling you Paul is back home. He knocks on the door. You stand still in front of the foggy mirror.

"Baby doll?" He asks softly.

"Hm." You say dryly.

He opens the door and walks in, standing behind you. "I am so sorry."

You shake your head and open your moisturizer, putting it on your face. His hands lift up your towel at the bottom, putting his hands on your bare waist. Your bare ass is out, and it's against him, but you can tell it's not in a sexual way. He just wants skin contact.

"I was on the phone with Jared. Him and Kim explained things to me. I understand now.. and I'm so sorry. I feel like an idiot. I understand it's just a girl thing." He chuckles at the end before saying.

You can't help but smile at him through the mirror at his immaturity. "Don't be goofy." You reply.

"I uh, also went to Sam's. This is embarrassing, but you should know. I felt so bad for yelling at you and holding you down. I asked Sam to punch me. I may or may not have been sobbing like a little bitch." He chuckles at himself.

You turn and face him. "Good. But I do want to apologize too for making you feel the way I made you feel. I only love and want you." You touch his cheek.

He smiles and places his hand above yours. But now, looking at his face. Uh oh. Here we go horny bastards.

You drop your towel. He looks down at you and then sucks on his teeth, moving his tongue. Within a swift movement, he grabs onto your throat. You lift your head up slightly and bite your lip. "Give me all you've got." You breathe out.

He slams his lips onto yours, kissing you with tongue all sloppy. He pulls away and bites your lip. He lifts you onto the counter by grabbing your ass. He kisses you again and then puts his fingers on your wet area.

The night was full of spanking, hair pulling, praising you, leaving marks all over you, making you finish over and over.

After that, you are breathless on the bed, so sensitive with bruises on your neck and thighs.

[murasaki-cha]

Cale and the Soos but Gen Z

(ft. Choi Han, Alberu and Rosalyn)

(Part 1) (Part 2)

Cale: when I say I have "main character energy," I mean the nerdy introvert with anxiety and a general distaste for humans - Shapeshifter: *transforms to look like Cale* Cale: Okay, are you like BLIND? You look nothing like me. First off, I'm way taller. Secondly, I DO NOT look so sleep deprived and lastly, if you could drag comb through that hair you're like a 7 on a good day and I've been told I'm a constant 10. -

Cale: Babygirl I have health problems that would make a grown man cry- yeah of course I'm still going to work what are you talking about

-

Cale: I love having trauma from an alarmingly young age because when I can't remember stuff from my childhood I get to play a game called "Is This Normal Memory Loss From Growing Up, Or Do I Have Severe Trauma-Induced Memory Repression?" Choi Jung Soo: Oh word Alberu: Preach Choi Han: Fr Eruhaben: Genuinely what in the- Sui Khan: Louder Eruhaben: YOU ARE 13 WHA-

-

Sui Khan: 'Person of interest' is almost too flattering. Sui Khan: Like, if the police were to pound on my door and go, 'A man has been murdered in your building and you are a person of interest,' I'd be like, 'Moi? Oh, do go on.' Cale pointing: You see where I got it from?

-

Rosalyn, eating cake: No wonder Marie Antoinette didn't give a fuck, this shit is good Cale: so true girl

-

Cale: when Billie Eillish said "I cant escape the way I love you" every gen z kid with attachment issues felt that Alberu: So you felt that? Cale: I felt that too much Alberu: Also who is Billie Eillish? Choi Jung Soo slamming the door open: bITC-

-

Cale: bitches b like “I'm baby” but have childhood trauma and neglect like wtf do u know about being baby u were forced to grow up from an early age anyways I’m bitches

-

Rosalyn going to her lesson with Eruhaben: Eruhaben-nim, are we cooking today or what! Eruhaben: Rosalyn, we aren’t… in the kitchen?

-

Cale: With all this tasks I'm getting from the gods sometimes I wish I was Jared 19 so I never read Birth Of A Hero...

-

Alberu: Not trying to brag or anything, but I can wake up without an alarm clock now simply due to my crippling and overwhelming anxiety, so... Cale: Mood

-

Heavenly Demon: do you guys know the meaning of patriarchy? Choi Jung Soo: I prefer Spongebob tbh Heavenly Demon: One more word from you Sword Demon and I swear-

-

Cale: Can I go outside to say a word to god? Choi Han: Yea. Rosalyn: You go outside and start yelling ‘hey what the heck are you!- then ZAP! Cale: I've questioned god before and I haven't died yet.

-

Choi Jung Soo: I so wish I had a cat personality but I have such a dog personality like I would do everything for your approval, do you want me to fetch your stick just for a lil treat , hell yeah I would with pleasure! Choi Han: Oh that's what it was!

-

Choi Jung Soo: Physically, yes, I could fight a bird. But emotionally? *Sees Sui Khan's cute 13 yo child appearance staring daggers at him* Choi Jung Soo: Imagine the toll.

-

Cale: So apparently the 'bad vibes' I’ve been feeling are actually severe psychological distress

-

Cale: A weight blanket is not enough I need to be compressed into a .zip file

-

Cale with a wine glass in hand: Existence is the enemy The group also with wine glasses in their hands: Cheers to that

-

Cale: Sometimes that sad feeling is due to low blood sugar, and sometimes it's from decades of history. Not that complex

[gh0stsp1d3r]

IDEA FOR UR TEENAGERS SERIES THINGY

Reader discovers how to use her super speed powers again while shes hanging out with all the other spiders (miles, gwen, pav, ofc her bf hobie) and they decide to go swinging around the city on her planet while shes running instead (maybe theyre having a race or something idk)

OOO

𝐓𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬... 𝐏𝐭 𝟏𝟏

“Okay, so basically, you have super speed and you can control time?!” Miles exclaimed, as he drunk his shake.

“Well.. I used to be able to. I can’t do either anymore. I don’t know why but..” you shrugged, taking a sip of yours and Hobies drink.

“I definitely did not see that coming.” Gwen mumbled.

“Yeah, my girl is even cooler now, ain’t she.” He put his arm around you.

“Your girl? Thought you didn’t like labels.”

“I don’t. And you ain’t no one’s property, and you are a free woman to do whatever you want, but you are my girl.”

You looked at him in confusion but laughed. “All right then..”

“Nothing of what you just said made sense, bro.” Pavitr said.

You all laughed.

“I say.. we all have a race. Like a swinging race.”

“What about me?” You asked.

“You can run.. who knows maybe your power will come back.” Miles said, as a joke.

“Ha ha, very funny. Sure, that’s cool.” You hit his arm.

“Sounds good to me.” Pavitr said.

“Sure.” Hobie shrugged.

“Cool.” Gwen said.

You all left after a while, everyone getting ready to start swinging.

“Okay, so where do we meet?”

“Just like uh…that one park we went to.” Miles said.

“Alright.” You said.

“That’s like… 3 miles away.” Miles looked at you.

You sighed.

“If it’s too much I’ll get an Uber or something.” You shrugged.

“Alright, suit yourself.”

“1, 2, and… 3!” They all started to swing, feet off the ground. As soon as you ran, something felt off. You didn’t run often, and it was odd.

First you started off normally, then the speed increased. It increased to the point where your shoes went on fire, and you were at the park in a matter of seconds. The whole team stopped for a moment and stared in shock.

“What the-“ you mumbled, yelling as you realized your shoes were on fire. The kids and parents staring at you.

You put out the fire, and sighed.

“What?” You looked at everyone staring.

You looked and saw everyone still swinging. Hobie with a giant smile on his face as you stood there in complete shock.

“This is crazy. This is absolutely fucking crazy.” You mumbled to yourself, pacing back and fourth.

Hobie raced down to you when he got on the ground, around him turning a bright pink as his eye lenses were wide.

“Holy shit, that was so cool! We were all like ‘oh fuck mate, what the fuck is that?’ And I haven’t gotten a scooby doo on how it happened but-“

“Hobie what the fuck am I supposed to do?!” You grabbed his shoulders and shook him.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t wanna live my life running like the fuckin’ flash!”

“Don’t know who that is, but I’m sure he’s cool.”

“He is but I don’t want this.. these stupid.. oh my god. Does this mean my time powers are back to?”

“Holy shit. My future wife is so fuckin’ sick.” He said.

“Hobie! This isn’t a good thing-“

“It should be! This is fuckin’ amazing, darling.”

You sighed. “How am I gonna explain this to Miguel? He’s already pissed that we keep jumping dimensions to meet up.”

“I’ll tell him.”

“What?”

“If you don’t wanna tell him, I will.

You sighed. “All right. I’ll tell him.”

Hobie smiled and kissed you.

“Also, I kinda ruined your converse..” you said.

He looked at the shoes you had on, you lifted your leg and showed the bottom of it.

“Ehh. It’s whatever. I’ll get new ones.” He shrugged.

“By her do you by any chance mean steal?”

“You know me so well.”

“I sure do.”

Tag list:

@enviinotes @rayis-psychotic @korizzybee @animechick555 @stupid-ninja @rreasonablydumbb @xxqueen-of-horrorxx @spidypunkk @criodzasn

@techta @1eonk @chipstermation6 @whosace16 @l-pandamatic-l

@spider-phoenix @zebralover @my-melo-gf @wiz-te-ria @tzuyuzzs @luvsaluv @mxkn

@deputy-videogamer @666kpopfan @jared-oranges @likelilac @jjkclub

@kitty-kei @blaxk-widow @hoesindifferentshows @lavsluvsu @lampylamperson @artsykerfuffleplus @notbluees @sp0kyzz @arlipooh

[youcouldmakealife]

KS Fill: Gabe/Stephen; not on the list

For the prompt: I would say Gabe and Stephen’s wedding because I want that more than anything in the world, but I suspect that’s coming without my prompt? But if it’s not… 

It would come either way, probably, but this started the ball rolling.

More Gabe and Stephen, more lists. No actual wedding, but we get pretty damn adjacent.

Gabe knew the list would backfire the moment Stephen started making it. He even told Stephen as much, but Stephen just shrugged a shoulder and kept working on it. He got into it as it grew too, enjoying it so much that Gabe told himself he was probably worrying about nothing.

And maybe the list wouldn’t have been a problem if the only person he’d told about it was Gabe. Probably would have been fine even if knowledge of it extended to the Marksons and Petersens, which happened sooner rather than later.

But telling Gabe’s teammates — that was a mistake.

“A what list?” Jared asks when Stephen first mentions it.

“An anti-wedding list,” Stephen says.

Bryce sits up. “You guys aren’t getting married?”

From this angle, Gabe can’t see how withering the look Stephen gives Bryce is, but the kick Jared aims at his ankle is probably related.

“Obviously we’re getting married,” Stephen says, like he wasn’t panicking for a good few days after they got engaged, and only the potential wrath of Miriam Markson kept him from fleeing on the next flight out of Vancouver. “It’s a list of shit we don’t want at our wedding.”

“Um,” Bryce says.

“You know,” Stephen says. “The wedding traditions we’re vetoing.”

“We is such a strong word,” Gabe says.

“Unanimous approval or none at all, Gabriel,” Stephen says. "A veto only needs one."

He's right. And Gabe guesses he would know, consdiering he's the one vetoing everything.

“So wait, what exactly are you vetoing?” Jared says.

“Nobody’s wearing white,” Stephen says, starting to tick items off on his fingers. “I mean, white dress shirts are fine, obviously, but nobody’s a virgin here, we’re not doing any all in white shit. No flower girls or ring bearers. No little groom cake toppers. Fuck knows there aren’t going to be any garters involved. I don’t remember the rest off the top of my head, but I have it all written down."

“I like the little grooms,” Bryce says, sounding hurt. Gabe hasn’t seen any pictures from Bryce and Jared’s wedding, since it was very much on the down-low — and he truly wishes he could see how those two managed to put together a wedding on the sly when they couldn't even sit across from each other without Gabe figuring out they were married — but he bets there were little grooms on top of their cake. He also bets Bryce still has those little dudes hanging around somewhere.

“Can I see the list?” Jared asks. “I’m kind of curious how many our wedding had.”

“Sure,” Stephen says, with a hand wave. “I’ll email it to you when I’m finished. Have a few more items to add first.”

“Cool,” Jared says.

After Bryce and Jared leave, Gabe mentions it might not be a good idea to send Jared the list, but Stephen just scoffs.

“What’s he going to do?” Stephen says. “Wear white to my wedding? Put little grooms on his piece of cake? He’s a pain in the ass, but he’s not going to anything that actually fucks with the day, he’s not Dmitry.”

“Our wedding,” Gabe says.

“Oh come on, you already know what’s mine is yours,” Stephen says.

“You stabbed me with a chopstick over the last soup dumpling last night,” Gabe says.

“Stop saying I stabbed you,” Stephen says. “I didn’t even break the skin.”

“It hurt,” Gabe says, and Stephen takes his hand, planting an officious kiss on the back of it.

“Better?” Stephen asks.

“It was the other hand,” Gabe says, smiling when Stephen sighs dramatically before kissing it too.

“You’re really going to give Math that list?” Gabe says. “Blind trust isn’t usually your thing.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll lead to something hideous,” Stephen says. “But think of it this way: your idiot teammates are going to do something, so I may as well give them some parameters.”

“Huh,” Gabe says. “Good point.”

“I’m not exactly new to this, you know,” Stephen says.

“No, I know,” Gabe says.

At least whatever it is that’s coming, it won’t come out of the blue.

~

Gabe did not foresee this. Sure, when he gave Stevie and Dima and Bullet bachelor party planning rights he anticipated some variety of disaster, but he underestimated them, he thinks. Or overestimated them. There was some mis-estimation occurring.

He looks around. What initially looked like chaos seems oddly recognisable. Almost familiar.

It’s sort of wedding themed, which makes sense, considering the occasion, but everything’s slightly off, and not just because they’re in a venue more suited to clubbing than matrimony.

His eyes land on the big cake at the centre of everything. It looks more like the kind Gabe saw at Cup celebrations than a wedding one, decorated to look like a rink, with two little figures at centre ice. He’s too far to see the details, but he’s pretty sure they’re hockey figurines rather than grooms, and someone has decided to use the manipulable joints for, well, evil probably isn’t the right word, but maybe immaturity — Gabe’s pretty sure one of them is straddling the other. He guesses he should just be grateful no mounting is taking place, considering Dima’s probably the responsible party.

There are so many elements, and they don’t seem to fit together at all — elegant baskets of flowers that look almost painstakingly put together, surrounded by a scatter of rainbow confetti that feels like it's moonlighting from a completely different event. Some kind of crooner — Bublé? — playing, also from a completely different event. None of it seems to fit Gabe's picture of a bachelor party planned and attended by hockey players, even if the wives and girlfriends present also got involved in the planning.

It’s the guests themselves that help Gabe put it together. There was clearly a dress code, one that only Gabe and Stephen weren’t informed about, everyone all in white, neon bright under the black light. Like an item of a list come to life. Like one of many items of a list come to life.

He can see Stephen put it together a mere moment after he does, his eyes narrowing, mouth going flat. Playing at unimpressed for the — many — eyes currently on them, avidly waiting for a reaction.

“I’m going to fucking kill Jared,” Stephen says, and Gabe decides not to tell him just how proud he sounds.

“I wonder which one of the Canucks is wearing the garter,” Gabe says, and grins when Stephen forgets his audience and his composure for a moment, throwing his head back with a laugh.

[carolinagirl80]

I honestly don’t understand the whole “it’s just a joke”, “that’s how guys talk” like no?

First of all that’s a lame fucking excuse for his behavior. Just because you’re a fan doesn’t mean you have to protect every fucked up thing he says.

Let’s be honest non of us know them personally, we see what’s online and hear what’s said. So pretending like you know them, saying “he’s a good guy” and defending him like you do is embarrassing.

I use to be a fan of Misha. Well, more like I use to respect him as an actor and I enjoyed him in SPN. This year I had the privilege to meet him at a con. I say privilege because I know that many can’t afford to or haven’t had the opportunity.

It was so awkward, he clearly didn’t want to be there. Everything he said during his q&a catered to the audience. It was over all very fake, I still can’t understand how people feed into the stuff he says.

It really put a bad taste in my mouth. I’ve never been his biggest fan, just thought that it would be fun to meet someone, from the tv show the show I’ve loved for years. That being said if I could go back, I’d save my money instead of wasting it.

I’m not saying he wasn’t nice to me, I did have a longer interaction than others that had been in line. But as someone who hasn’t ever been an obsessive fan, I think it might have been easier not feeding into all the crap he says.

People forget that he gets paid to do this stuff. The reason why he’s a fan favorite is because of destiel. So ofc he’s going to milk it, since that’s the only thing he has to talk about.

All the questions were destiel related, he has nothing else to say about the show. Honestly I don’t think he remembers anything that happened in the show, except from all of the scenes where he can confirm that destiel is canon.

Anyway after that con I watched a few videos of other panels online, because Jensen and Jared didn’t attend the one I went to. And I have to say I agree with a lot of the things you’ve posted.

It’s clear that he tries hard to push Jared out of the picture, he forces this idea of being besties with Jensen at cons. It’s always so awkward watching them together. Most of the time Jensen just goes along with stuff Misha says, so he doesn’t have to answer the same questions about destiel being canon or not.

Jensen obviously takes his acting seriously, he played Dean for 15 years. So I don’t get when he says over and over again, that destiel isn’t a thing. That people can’t accept it and move on. I love Dean, but I’m not going to pretend I know him better than Jensen. He WAS Dean. He knows him inside and out.

Then we have Misha that eggs the fans on during these panels. It’s like Jensen tries to answer the question seriously. Then Misha swoops in makes a small joke out of it, like Jensen has no idea what he’s talking about and proceeds to talk over him. Giving them the answer they want to hear.

It even feels like he’s making fun of the fans at times, knowing that they feed into this crap and thinking it’s funny that they do.

Gives me the same vibes of Regina George saying “I love that bracelet where did you get it”. Then going back to the green room and making fun of it.

I mean he’s made fun of the show and fans before, there are literally videos or posts online.

ALSO!!! The whole thing Jensen said about it not being subtext it was clear text, has been so fucking twisted.

This has turned into more of a rant, sorry. But what I mean to say is I agree with a lot of the things you’ve said. I just don’t understand how people can’t see it? It’s so frustrating.

I don’t hate Misha, it just really really fucking bugs me, that people don’t see what he’s doing. I just don’t get that you, like others who point it out get attacked.

People go on and on about how hateful others are, then proceed to bully people online for pointing shit out? Make that make sense.

Hi Anon! Saw your other message, and yeah, I don't blame you there, but you are good, so here we go. Thank you for the message btw. Very refreshing after my last few that's for sure.

I will start by saying that I have never seen a group of people so willing to turn a blind eye to the numerous inappropriate things their fave does/says as the hellers/Misha Stans. Their mantra in life is "oh, it was just a joke". I mean, they have to say it constantly because Misha can't stop being inappropriate. He kinda has to though doesn't he? Otherwise, he couldn't keep them entertained and he'd float on off into obscurity.

Unfortunately, that requires the use of Jared and Jensen's names.

I'll start with Jensen just because I happen to already have a link ready.

So, with Jensen, he's going to play that Destiel/Cockles card as much as he possibly can. Always has, always will. Jensen has always said that Destiel doesn't exist. (Thanks to @Sammyiscat on X for posting this today, just when I needed it!)

Once upon a time, Jensen did do a little fan service and lean into it slightly during JenMish panels. However, he always made it as clear as possible how he really feels. Then the hellers called him homophobic for it. So earlier this year, as you mentioned, he called it "clear text" not subtext. He tried to be as diplomatic as possible. The unfortunate part of being diplomatic is that it allowed the hellers to twist themselves into pretzels making it sound like Jensen said the opposite of what he actually was saying.

What I find the most interesting is that in the last few years, Misha is on his best behavior around Jensen. He only runs his mouth off when Jensen isn't around. Usually when he's at a European con alone. I'd LOVE to know how that transpired. Jensen is also usually in a pretty bad mood leading up to a JenMish panel these days as well. He was surprisingly ok in Charlotte (except for that one damn question). However, let's look back on San Francisco. Remember when he ran from Misha trying to hug him?

That is the definition of an unhappy Jensen....Yet hellers, CANNOT SEE IT! How can they not see that? Anyways...I could go on and on here....

So let's move on to Jared...

Sweet silly Jared. How anyone could be mean to him I'll never know. Something has changed there too. There was a lot more joking from Misha where Jared is concerned once up a time. Now, everything Misha says about his sounds bitter and or malicious.

He loves to point out that Jared was discovered just walking down the street, or that he has no training or that he didn't go to college.

Then there was the airplane story from last month in DC. It was partially true, but heavily embellished to make Jared sound bad, and what happens every time that happens? Tons of hate descends onto Jared online. People telling him to kill himself. Just pure bullying and hate. Misha HAS to know that is what would happen.

Just this past weekend he mocked him: (Ignore the person who tweeted this. You don't want to go down that route)

What an asshole. I mean really. I know, I know hellers, "oh, it's just a joke" right? Let's not start the "you and your friends have no sense of humor" crap again.

As far as con experiences go? I've heard people say many times that they have had negative experiences meeting Misha. Unless you are known to him already he couldn't care less. Been there, done that, can confirm. Like I said in another post, glad I already didn't like him because I sure wouldn't now!

Edited to add another link of Jensen denying Destiel.

[casual-socks]

HI IVE BEEN MASSIVELY HYPERFIXATED ON TMA FOR ABOUT A YEAR AND IVE SEEN MAYBE ONE (1) SINGULAR PERSON TALK ABOUT THIS and i am not even kidding when i say its been a passionate topic of conversation for that entire year. people know me for this. it comes up and my entire friend group SIGHS AUDIBLY because they know the 20 minute tangent i Will be taking

WHATTTTT IS GOING ON WITH GERARD KEAYS NAME. what. what???? okay i

youre telling me jonathan sims went to oxford college (relatively prestigious if my memory serves me correctly) for RESEARCH. for, to put it simply, READING. and he looks at the name gerard and goes Yeah looks like jared to me lets go with that!!! HELLO?? NO?? not even mentioning the fact that he is being what could easily be called possesed when reading these statements which leaves us with two options

1. the ENTIRETY OF ENGLAND CANNOT PRONOUNCE THE NAME GERARD.

2. jonathan sims is so monumentally stupid that he is somehow breaking this possesion for the 2 seconds it takes to say the name gerard (i love him i swear i will sound so so hateful for this entire post but its out of love)

and like??? its not even that EVERYONE is calling him jared? elias and gertrude have both called him gerard and thats just off the top of my head. i also think jon said it correctly ONEEEE SINGULAR TIME. Just the once.

now i feel it necessary to mention jared hopworth here as well. because why, why on gods green earth, would you name a character gerard. pronounce it jared. TURN AROUND AND GO. lets make another jared but this ones made out of meat and is sort of implied to not be too fond of gay people. Yeah he steals peoples bones. Yeah.

SO LIKE GERARD KEAY IS THE OBJECTIVELY SUPERIOR JARED EXCEPT HES NOT JARED HIS NAME IS LITERALLY GERARD?? FUCK YOU SO MUCH

so okay. sure whatever this podcast is sooo british that a bunch of people are just completely failing to pronounce gerard. sure. whatever you say.

GERRY?????? HIS FUCKING NICKNAME IS GERRY???????????? NO!!!!

NO. no. LOOK ME IN MY EYES. LOOK AT THE NAME GERARD. GER-ARD. AND YOURE TELLING ME YOURE GONNA CALL HIM JARED. SND THEN YOURE GONNA CALL HIM GERRY WITH A G???? gerry with a g. that is utterly ridiculous i cannot even believe this that is monumentally frustrating i cannot even begin to describe to you all the anger i have experienced over this particular bit because why on earth would you take that particular extra step??? gerard -> gerry. sure. thin ice, but sure. jared -> jerry. sure! yeah! makes sense! GERARD -> JARED -> GERRY? you must be playing some sick joke jonny sims. seriously. you are a cruel and usual man

now this is when i start to wind down, but far from where i finish. lets take a moment to really pause and soak in his actual name here.

gerard.

that is so unfortunate already i mean really, gerard is such a…. a name…. i mean his mom skins people and puts them in books and the cruelest thing i think she ever couldve done is honest to god name her son gerard.

keay.

now dont get me wrong. theres nothing seriously wrong with spelling it keay on principle. but god, really? youre gonna shove all this gerard gerry jared business in front of me and tell me his last name is just key but gone the extra mile. really feels like the cherry on top of a shit cake.

now if you consider gerards character i truly feel as though thats the deepest disservice here. gerard keay is an incredible character whos short appearance is so memorable and charming, and despite his VERY little screen time he still has an intriguing and well fleshed out character. really, gerard keay is so excellent character wise. But, every time i think about him for any more than 5 minutes, almost this exact rant is being told to whoever is unfortunate enough to be near me at the time.

another thing i think also really adds to this is just the nature of gerard keay. everything you can say about that guy could be ended with “and everone calls him jared for some reason”. hes emo and everyone calls him jared for some reason. his hair dye job is so miserable that EVERYONE mentions it and everyone calls him jared for some reason. he has mommy issues and everyone calls him jared for some reason.

okay i need to wrap this up before i start just repeating WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY for thousands of words but heres a graph i made for my friends in october 2022 when i was going on about this in the middle of my spanish class 👍👍

[eisforeidolon]

Don’t know if relevant but found it incredibly funny. Noticed a gifset of this weekend is going around and hellers screaming cockles, where misha basically asked jensen to sit closer to him as he does with Jared, and Jensen came closer, made some jokes to allure the audience and went back to his space (I don’t know if he sat closer after that though). It is such a lol moment for me, and seeing hellers excited for this is hillourious. It feels to me like Misha and his minnions are so adamant to take the place of Jared in Jensen's life. They push for the things which comes most normally between jared and jensen.

I am always amazed at the extent to which tinhatters are able to convince themselves that actors doing things they're being paid to do means they're ~*in lurve*~. OMG, I paid them to hold hands in a photo op and THEY DID! OMG, they're being paid to banter together on stage and THEY DID! Like do you seriously not understand the concept of actors, or ...

I think full videos of the panels went up earlier this evening, but I saw clips previously which included the section of the panel you're talking about and it was so obviously a bit? Part of the reason it's so funny with J2 is that while sometimes they do pointedly do it as a joke, they can make it come off spontaneously. Not only that, but there's also a large portion of the time they don't even seem to notice they're doing it.

This was so painfully staged to warm up the audience at the beginning of the panel that it's embarrassing to compare the two. It was actually Jensen moving closer to Misha after asking why he was sitting so far away IIRC, and then them both exaggeratedly scooting across the stage. Then Jensen moves his chair back as far away as it started with such a blank look, very, 'Okay, checked that off the list, on to talking about the city'. Twue lurve!

I have pointedly said before that I don't think Jensen needs to treat Misha like he has a communicable disease just because some nutcases on the internet are going to fantasize every second they breathe the same air into an epic romance. I would also be very surprised if Jensen has heard even a fraction of the queerbait-y objectifying shit Misha has said and continues saying behind his back. It's also relevant that they're being paid to perform for an audience who are likely mostly GA fans who want to believe the whole cast are super close besties and want to see them goofing around - like they do on the gag reels!

Meanwhile, the cockless weirdos desperately want believe Jensen performing during panels with Misha means that Misha will oh-so-easily take Jared's place - and beyond! The problem is, if you compare the onstage dynamics between the three of them? I haven't ever seen a truly awkward panel between Jensen and Jared or Jared and Misha. But Jensen and Misha? Oof. It's not always terrible. But Jensen is the most reserved and least open while Misha is constantly flippant, raunchy, and overshares. It's not just that Jared is more adaptable, it's that they're genuinely an awkward personality match. Then you add the whole known issue of belligerent overstepping D/C shippers who may try to slip in an awkward bomb of a question on top of it. So in the same way that I assume you don't know what a romance actually looks like if you think D/C is one at all, let alone an epic one? If you're insisting Jensen and Misha are the ones that must be fucking given their onstage chemistry, I assume that you also don't understand chemistry is more than who you personally get off on imagining having sex.

[pagannatural]

2.14 Born Under a Bad Sign

-Meg possesses Sam which forces the brothers’ dynamic to develop. Dean really reclaims a sense of himself this episode after spending all season in various degrees and types of turmoil over what to do about Sam. I don’t think he ever really considered killing Sam, but he agonized over his role and what he should do. He lied to a drunk Sam in Playthings and said he would kill him.

- Dean has called Ellen multiple times about Sam going missing, so much so that Dean doesn’t even refer to him by name on the phone, he just calls asking Where is he. Dean says “I’m losing my mind here.” He’s desperate to find Sam. I wonder if Dean ever lost Sam when he was a baby, like at the store or something.

- Dean also says it’s like when John went missing all over again. Dean sought out Sam for help and comfort when that happened. It’s a little kernel of insight into Dean’s state of mind when he broke into Sam’s house in s1, he was probably a lot more afraid than he let on to Sam because he was trying to keep it together.

-when he gets to the motel room Dean kneels in front of Sam, who’s sitting on the bed. He’s off to the side rather than right in between Sam’s legs but when he zeroes in on the blood on Sam’s shirt, on his lower stomach, he starts moving aside Sam’s jacket and touching the bloody fabric. It looks very intimate. Dean reaches directly into Sam’s personal space and even moves his clothes aside to check for injury.

This quick shot of his fingers feeling Sam’s stomach is particularly intimate. Meg!Sam says that he doesn’t think it’s his blood. Dean certainly thought it was Sam’s blood, he wouldn’t have been considering other options at that moment. So Dean is touching Sam’s wound on his lower belly, as far as he and the viewer know. It’s a sexual and feminine image. Although he’s not actually injured, Sam’s body has been invaded and controlled by a demon. It’s a sexual assault parallel, a first taste of Sam’s fall from grace. Throughout the episode, Dean fights for him and refuses to harm him. As long as Sam is still in there somewhere, Dean will protect him.

-Meg is inside of Sam’s brain and body and she has a pretty good understanding of Sam. She’s acting the way she thinks he would and also in whatever way plays to her advantage with Dean, so she has a primary interest in the nature of their relationship. She knows about Dean’s promise to John and to Sam about killing him, so she must have some access to his memories. She plays up Sam’s pleading eyes more than anything, which means she knows Sam’s memories that this has worked on Dean in the past.

- Dean reacts with deep skepticism to the gas station clerk telling him that Sam was drinking, smoking, and behaving violently.

Dean has also picked up on a couple of other specifics that aren’t like Sam: the name he gave at the motel is the name of a Bon Jovi band member, which Dean doesn’t think Sam likes and isn’t one of the names they would recognize for each other; and if Sam did smoke, Dean seems convinced he wouldn’t smoke menthols. He knows Sam so well.

- Dean says that smoking and throwing bottles at people sounds “more like me than you” which tells us that Dean is sometimes an angry drunk and sometimes a smoker, both of which make perfect sense for his character. There’s a lot we don’t directly see on the show.

-Sam moves differently, seems more feminine, and when Dean continues to insist he might not be a murderer he looks annoyed and almost rolls his eyes. Jared Padalecki is so good at being Sam possessed by Meg.

-Meg is basically begging Dean to feel horror that Sam killed someone- a hunter! with a family! caught on camera!- but Dean is like Ah fuck okay I’ll just run through the crime scene cleanup checklist quick and then we can take a nap together at home before we go okay babe? Babe u okay?

- Meg!Sam asks Dean to kill him, kinda using the puppy dog eyes but not quite selling it because it’s not needy enough, and Dean says “I’ve tried so hard to keep you safe…I can’t. I’d rather die.”

This is Dean admitting outright that his promise was bullshit and that he will either save Sam or die trying, and he’s faced so many trials to be completely sure and ready to say it. It doesn’t matter what Sam does. Dean had to understand more consciously his feelings for Sam before he could commit to this because it’s a fundamental part of who he is and his love for Sam. He feels guilty about his love, but he can’t doubt the strength of it and I think this is where he first accepts his role as Sam’s savior. The way he looks at Sam here is with such open love and desire. He’s like Wesley looking at Buttercup.

-Dean calls the phone company to get Sam’s location by pretending Sam is his son. He says “my son” and calls him Sammy and fuck if it isn’t the cutest. Dean is Sam’s dad now. Succession.

-Meg!Sam is so irritated that Jo is carrying a torch for Dean. She seems to be using Sam’s real memories and feelings to get what she wants, and in this case I think Sam is probably annoyed by Jo’s crush and wishes she understood she doesn’t have a chance with Dean, so Meg is using her weaknesses. She really enjoys using Sam’s characteristics and twisting them. For example, after tying Jo up she uses the puppy dog face again and says “c’mon it’s me, you can tell me anything” which echos Sam’s role as sympathetic ear to the victims and other characters. So when she talks about Jo wanting Dean and Dean not wanting Jo and then attacks her in a very sexually charged way, it feels like she’s playing with both their desire for Dean and Sam’s desire to be more like him. She seems to be telling the truth in these scenes, just truths that Jo wouldn’t want to know. So telling her You want him but he doesn’t want you and aren’t I the next best, when Sam in reality does not want Jo, makes Jo into a proxy to act out unrequited love for (and from) Dean.

-Meg!Sam shoots Dean and he falls into the water from the dock and Jo finds him soaked and bleeding and you have three guesses as to the first words out of his mouth (“where’s Sam?”).

-Bobby asks where Dean is so Meg!Sam tells him Dean’s with a girl somewhere. Bobby asks if she’s pretty and Meg’s eyes go black and she says “if you ask me he’s in way over his head.” The visual cue and emphasis make it clear Meg is talking as herself here, not as Sam, and it seems like she’s talking about Dean’s situation with Sam. It’s also a pun because she thinks he’s underwater, but regardless she’s connecting Dean being with some girl and Dean being in trouble because of Sam.

-she also smirks at Dean pretty wickedly and tells him “you wouldn’t wanna bruise this fine packaging” ie Sam’s body that she knows Dean thinks is mighty fine. What I wouldn’t give for her to taunt him more in this way.

- she tells Dean he’s worthless, he can’t save Sam, and the people he loves would be better off without him. Which means his worst beliefs about himself (as far as Sam knows) are that he isn’t good enough and that he’s actually bad for Sam. Why? Why would Sam know that Dean fears he would be better off without him? He’s protected and cared for Sam his whole life, both Sam and John have explicitly told him that they’re grateful, and even Dean can’t blame himself for the way he and Sam grew up. It’s possible this is about the fact that Sam is in danger hunting with Dean, but he would’ve been in danger in law school too. It fits better with Dean’s guilt over his feelings for Sam and his knowledge that Sam is in love with him. Sam knows that Dean blames himself.

-Dean refuses to hurt Sam when Meg!Sam is punching him, and she punches him four or five times. Then when Sam is back unpossessed, Dean punches him in the face. When it was about saving Sam Dean refused to hurt him, but now that Sam is safe it’s like his anger at Sam comes pouring out. He needed some form of resolution for the fact that his little brother scared the shit out of him for a week straight going missing, murdered someone and didn’t even help clean up the crime scene, pistol whipped him, shot him in the shoulder, punched him, named his worst fears, threatened to bite his own tongue off, and pressed his finger into his wound and laughed. Obviously Sam did none of those things and it was all Meg, but I think it’s completely understandable that Dean reacted this way after not only keeping his shit together for Sam all that time but also actively protecting him. It’s a reasonable trauma response for him to have fought back. I’m not saying it’s ethical or anything just that it’s exactly what Dean would do and it gives his episode arc some catharsis.

-for his part, Sam isn’t upset with Dean for punching him. He never is. As evidenced by Sam’s little smirk when Dean makes joke about Bobby’s charms for keeping the demon from “getting back up in there.”

-Dean checks in with Sam in the sweetest way, gently prompting him to answer if he’s okay. Sam explains that what’s troubling him isn’t the memory of his own hands killing a man, it’s the knowledge that even then Dean wouldn’t kill him. They both know for sure now.

-Dean teases Sam about having a girl inside him and Sam grins. It’s just one of many references to Sam having someone inside him and otherwise sexually being referred to as the girl.

-Dean’s “if it’s the last thing I do I’m gonna save you” hits different when you’re on tumblr and you know the show ends 13 seasons later with Dean dying and Sam living out some kind of a life.

[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: anon request - "can you do a zach one where he like exposes him and readers secret relationship and she just goes with it , like " you weren't so quiet last night " and she just has her jaw dropped and says something back and it ends with smut" 

Warnings: this one shot will contain reader having sexual daydreams during the podcast, those dreams will include, oral (m rec), unprotected sex, the rest will contain Zach's usual banter and fluffiness

Word count: 2.1 k | not edited 

Also - I know it might get confusing, but the italics are what happened the night before, but in the form as if it's happening right now, like you're replaying the night in your mind. Hope that made sense, enjoy! 

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

"You want to know what I think is crazy?" Zach asks as his fingers drag up and down your arm. 

"Hmm?" You hum quietly as you keep your head on his chest. You feel him laugh slightly, "That no one has figured us out yet." 

You laugh, moving your head to look up at him, "Well now you just jinxed the hell out of that." 

He shrugs, a smirk on his face, "I mean I like us being a secret and all, but it's so hard for me to not say certain things when you're on the pod with us." 

You nod, "Yeah, I know what you mean." You smirk, "So what, is that your way of telling me you're going to out us at tomorrow's show?" 

He raises his brows, "I'm full of surprises babe. Guess you're going to have to wait and see." 

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

The next day, you're sitting on the red bench, headphones on and you're getting ready to do the show, but your mind just isn't there. 

Instead it's elsewhere. 

Specifically, replaying the time spent with Zach the previous night. 

The way you felt coming back from the restaurant, you needed him, his hands resting on your hips as you unlock your door made you crave him. 

When you finally got the door open, it was like the energy that craved one another clashed, As soon as you push the door open, he spun you around, lips on yours as he backs you into your apartment. 

"Hey." A hand is woven in front of you, "Earth to y/n." 

You look over at Tara and blink as you take your headphones off, "Yeah, hi. I'm here." 

"Where the fuck did you go. You were like-" she mimics how you were staring, "Zoned out." 

You laugh, "Sorry. I'm tired. I was up all night." Zach and Jared walk onto the set, "Oooh. Up all night doing what?" Zach teases and you roll your eyes, "I was coming up with a list of places that've already been to for Sam and Colby." 

Zach sits down and raises his brows, "Wow that was very specific." Zach sighs, placing his headphones on and you can't help but laugh. 

Friends around friends, lovers when it's just you two. 

You lean back, placing your headphones back on and Tara speaks up, "So I have to ask, how does it feel being better than two of the most liked ghost hunters in the world?" 

You laugh slightly, "What do you mean?" 

"I know you do paranormal investigation stuff too, and just the fact that Sam and Colby are coming to you for stuff.. I don't know that just.." Tara laughs and you tilt your head, "Are you just saying that to make a jab at them?" 

She nods and lean in to your mic, "Well then it feels pretty damn good." 

"Alright, alright. Anymore and we'll be scraping your brain off the walls from your head swelling to the point of exploding." Zach tries not to laugh and you shrug, "Hey, I take it when I can." 

You give him a quick and subtle wink then quickly change the subject, "Cat got Zach's tongue so I'll just go ahead and do the intro for him." You laugh, "What's up guys, we're here with Tara, Alyssa, me, Jared and oh, I guess Zach is here too." 

Zach just stares at you and you can't help but laugh. 

"Okay, but I love the fact that she announced Tara and me first." Alyssa laughs and you point to her. Tara nods, "Yeah, I'm going to have to say that we need to all vote to make y/n the person who announces the show." 

"Like a pre-recorded track because there are days she isn't here." Alyssa points out and you nod, "I agree. All in favor." You raise your hand and instantly say, "Three versus two. Girls win." 

"Youre ridiculous. Who invited you here anyway?" Zach rolls his eyes and you furrow your brows, "Um, you?" 

"Can you just like, zip it." Zach motions at his mouth and you smirk, "Make me. Take my headphones away." 

Zach tries not to laugh, "I mean, I can. But you might moan a little." 

"Oh my god. No. No. No." you close your eyes and look away from him, but in secret, you'd be on your knees in seconds for him. 

Zach places his hands on your shoulders, urging you to your knees. You drop down, complying to his every silent request. 

You stare up at him as he shrugs his black jean jacket off, eyes locked on yours as his jaw is slightly slack from your hand sliding over his throbbing cock that's being held back by his jeans. 

"I don't think.. you should say that to our guests?" Jared says with a nervous laugh, "I'm actually surprised you haven't gotten sued yet." 

"Please." Zach shrugs, nodding to you, "She won't sue me." 

Tara points to you, "I think you should just for his reaction. 

You laugh, "Thinking about it." 

You weren't thinking about that at all, Zach undoes his belt, followed by his jeans. The quick sound of the zipper going down causes your skin to perk up with goosebumps, caused by excitement. 

You rise up from your calves, licking your lips as you work fast to free him from his boxers. 

Zach speaking pulls you back into reality, "So now that we're past that embarrassing ensemble.." 

Zach trails off and so does your mind, You loved hearing Zach's little moans and groans as you held his cock with your lips and tongue. 

The way his fingers gentle drug over your head, slowly pulling your hair as his pleasure grew larger, "Fuck." 

Zach didn't really swear in general, so when he did, and it was because of you. It was even fucking hotter. 

You blink, snapping back into reality. 

"So I thought we could talk about something serious today." Zach says and Jared laughs, "Oh no. Someone's getting fired." 

"Yeah it's you." Zach says, pretending to be serious and Jared laughs, "I'd love to see you try, I'll just tell you no and you'll listen." 

You laugh and nod, "No that's so true." 

"Yeah whatever." Zach rolls his eyes, "No I have an exciting announcement." 

Your heart thumps and your head snaps towards him slightly. 

His eyes move to you and he smiles a little bit, "So, I have some news that may shock a lot of people, but I think everyone should know this, from me." 

"What's the fuck is happening?" Tara asks and Zach sighs, speaking quickly, "We're going to be doing a live dropouts show." 

You let out a breath and keep your stare on him, "Wow, Zach. That's great." 

"Better be, because they want all of us who are here right now." Zach gives a thumbs up, "What a relief it was to get that off my chest." 

You laugh slightly as your eyes trail down his neck to his necklace that's lying comfortably on his chest. 

Your back slams onto the bed, Zach's lips kissing over any skin they can reach. You let out a moan as he sucks a hicky into the skin over your hip. 

He kisses up over your boobs and up your neck. He leans up and you feel his cock slip between the folds of your pussy. 

The shiny necklace dangling from his neck as you feel him slide into you fully. You find it so hot when it swings back and forth with each thrust.

"Hey, I can't lie." Jared laughs and Tara cuts him off with a yell, "Say it!" 

You look over, at Tara, laughing as she keeps pointing to jared. You look over at Zach and he gives you a look that would make your legs go weak if you were standing. 

It wasn't a weird look. It was him just staring at you, knowing why you keep zoning out, and he was just making it worse. 

"I liked y/n's intro." Jared sighs and you look over at Jared with a clap, "Thank you." 

"You definitely thought it was better than Zach's intro, right?" Alyssa asks and Jared laughs, "I'm not answering that." 

You yelling with excitement, "Fuck yeah! Because you know that girls are just better than boys!" You motion between you, Tara and Alyssa. 

"Whoa, whoa!" Zach says waving his hand out in front of him a few times, "Settle down. Settle down, I'm getting flashbacks." 

"War flashbacks." Jared snorts and Tara asks with a laugh, "Flashbacks of what?!" 

You look at Zach, laughing and he shakes his head while furrowing his brows, "I don't know what you're laughing about because these flashbacks are of how loud you were being last night." 

It all happened so fast you blank, "What the fuck." 

"What did he just say?" Jared asks, mouth dropped with surprise. 

"Oh yeah, okay." Tara rolls her eyes and as you're still staring at Zach, he tilts his head slightly, giving his brows a quick flick. 

He outted you at tomorrow's show. 

Might as well roll with it. 

"You gonna tell them or you want me to, princess?" Zach smirks and you shrug, letting out a dramatic sigh, "Whatever helps you sleep at night." 

"Oh, you know exactly what helps me sleep at night." Zach winks as you look at him and you shake your head, looking down to rest it in your hand. 

"I can't tell if they're joking." Alyssa laughs and Tara cuts in, "Yeahhh, I mean, okay. I've actually been extremely suspicions about these two for weeks now."

"Oh please tell us what made you think that, Tara." Jared leans in, super invested into the conversation. 

You look up and look from Tara to Zach and he shrugs, "Hit me." He nods to Tara and she smirks, looking between you and Zach, "Well for starters, he stares at her every time she looks away." 

"I like looking at the back of her head. It makes it so I don't have anything mean to say." Zach shrugs and you  just laugh. 

"What else you got, Tara?" Jared encourages and Tara laughs, "Another thing is, they'll stop answering me at both at the same time. Like I'll be texting both of them and then all of a sudden.. radio silence." 

"I have a very strict bed time, Tara." You and Zach both say, just adding fuel to the fire and you just laugh, knowing that you're caught. 

"See!" Tara tells pointing, "See!" 

"Well.. if you don't know you do now." Zach laughs and Jared eggs him on, "Know what? Zach. Care to enlighten us with a perfect confirmation?" 

"What's my lawyer?" Zach yells looking around as he raises his hand. 

"So isn't true? You and.." Alyssa points from you to Zach and you laugh, nodding your head slowly. 

"Wow." Jared says, "I honestly did not expect this is come out onto the podcast today." 

Zach reaches for his water and takes a sip, "Listen, we played dumb, but we knew what we were doing." Zach scoffs, "Alright. You can't tell me that you weren't fooled."

"I knew my suspicions were there for a reason." Tara laughs, "How long?" 

"Two months." You laugh and they don't believe you.  Zach nods, "No she's serious.  It was after the episode with Jake and Johnnie." 

"Oh shit, yeah I guess that was two months ago." Tara nods, "I'm just like.. having a holy fuck moment." 

"Yeah." Zach laughs, "She came to see if I was as rich as I bragged that I was, and I must have passed inspection because she didn't go home that night." 

"Oh my god." You laugh, "That's not.." you shake your head and Jared laughs, "I just.. that really does shock me, like.. y/n. Why him?" 

You shrug, smiling as you look over at Zach. He glances at you and smirks, "What can I say? I'm full of surprises."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

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