#and like. stupid effects to catch your attention. and bright text on screen

[sobredunia]

yall i am legit suffering seeing my dad scroll through youtube shorts there is so much actual slop there i'm losing my mind

[annieharkness]

Glimpses: Part 11 (Kathryn Hahn x Fem!Reader)

Part 1 // previous chapter <<< >>> next chapter

Summary: Kathryn gets news that effect your newly blossoming relationship.. or… whatever it is.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Hello everyone. I am pleased to announce that I finally finished this chapter and am very much excited about where this story is going from here. I hope you all still enjoy. Last week, I got asked to create a tag list and if anyone wants to be on it as well, just hit me up and you'll never miss a posting again. Thank you all for still being here, here we go! <3

Tag List: @danvers97

_____________________________________________________________________________

You scrunch your nose as the sunlight hits your face and repeatedly blink our eyes upon the blinding sunbeam coming in through the half opened curtains. Slowly opening them, you find yourself in a bright room with high walls and take in the fresh breeze granted from the open windows and curtains right now.

Laying on your back, you close your eyes again before turning on your other side, as you realize you are, in fact, not alone in bed. Long dark hair is tickling your nose and you don’t need to think twice about who it might be, as the familiar scent of your crush hits you right away. Shocked, you move back a little. Too harsh and too fast, which is why you wake up the sleeping woman next to you and watch in awe as reality slowly gets her back. She is still in her clothes from last night and the little make up she wore is smudged around her eyes. It’s the most beautiful sight you have ever seen.

She locks eyes with you. “Good Morning, Sweetheart. Seems like we fell asleep somewhere,” she winks, “I’m gonna go fetch change and fetch us some breakfast to eat outside, yeah?”

With that she is already sitting up and about to leave the bed as you are still busy comprehending the situation that you found yourself in. Realizing the confused state you are in upon seeing the look on your face, she laughs. “Yes, I get up that quickly most of the time. I get it. It’s unsettling. But work made me adjust to getting as much sleep as possible by not spending time just laying around. It’s sleep, wake, work for me.” 

Laughing again, she walks past the bed and reaches for the door handle. “See you in the garden in about 30 minutes? Take your time and let me know if you need anything before, though. Also… there is fresh towels and a toothbrush in the bathroom, if you wanna take a shower. Feel  right at home.”

With that, she leaves the room and you stare at the closed door for a few seconds before finally stretching your body. You don’t know how to put the whole situation into words yet, but you reach for your phone to text Alex about what happened. Obviously, it would be faster and probably also more effective to call and actually talk to her but it would seem too real and you can't do too real just now.

Simply texting her what happened somehow feels less intimate than calling. It just feels less real. And that will have to do for now. Plus, Kathryn might come back any moment and you don’t want to just confront her with your friends.

It takes you a while to find the right words, so you put your phone down for a minute to put yesterday’s clothes back on and simply brush your teeth because you have decided to skip the shower since you took one just the day before.

After a while and multiple times of rewriting the message, it seems as if you put all the information in there that Alex would be interested in and you hit send, anxious for your best friend's response. Suddenly, there is a knock on your door. 

Kathryn’s head pops up in the door frame. “How do you like your coffee, Y/N?”

“Uuuuhm. I don’t actually know. I guess I just drink whatever my mom has in the pot? I’m not picky.” You scratch your head as a deep frown appears on your forehead.

Kathryn smiles softly. “Alrighty then. I’m nearly done in the kitchen. You could come help me take everything outside, if you want. That's all.”

You immediately jump from the bed to walk towards and help her, sliding your phone into your back pocket. Entering the kitchen, you can tell Alex has read the message and is frantically reacting to it. The vibration caused by her messages makes you anxious and, as clearly as you can hear them, you hope Kathryn doesn’t.

Ignoring the buzzing, you walk behind her and help her set up the table, admiring her silhouette. The sun is hitting her hair in a way that makes it appear to have a golden shimmer and the long white summer dress she put on for the day flows in the light wind that’s circling the backyard. You can see her back muscles move as she walks and watch as she elegantly makes her way through the house.

She turns around and catches you staring at her. “Like something you see?” She winks.

Embarrassingly, you simply continue the staring and open and close your mouth just like a fish until she laughs. “Calm down, sweetheart. You look very nice yourself and I certainly enjoy catching a glimpse or two of you.”

Take a breath. You like flirty Kathryn. Whenever she teases you, she is so very much different to the Kathryn you thought you’d meet back in the bar just a while back. Never would you have thought to get that lucky. Caught up in your thoughts, you miss how she bites her lips looking at you, barely, but long enough so you could’ve noticed, and her eyes momentarily move down to your lips.

As she catches your attention again, asking for the plates in your hands, her pupils are slightly widened and she brushes your fingers for a short moment. The tension gets broken by a loud noise coming from your pocket.

You both know the sound and look at each other for just a few seconds before you finally react. Taking out your phone and looking at it, you slightly panic as you see Alex’ name calling as you look at yourself on the screen. 

“Oh… it’s my best friend.” You say and it’s been quite a few seconds now and you still haven’t reacted. Usually, when moments like this happen, Alex puts the phone aside and does something else until you eventually pick up or the call ends.

This time, you forget about that and simply watch and completely forget to react as Kathryn reaches out, takes the phone from your hand and answers the call herself. As feared, Alex is already busy doing her make up - she is going out for dinner tonight - and is not paying attention to the phone at all as she can't really see the screen given to position she is in right now.

“MADAME GURL. I can’t believe you are not reading my fucking messages, like, how dare you ignore your highness,” she laughs from afar as she puts eyeliner on. You know she will look down any second now and don’t dare to move or speak. “No really, I need you to-“

She stops speaking. She drops her make up. Her mouth falls open. You can basically hear and see her heart sink to her knees. “To… to… I mean… I need her to uhm… call me back. Yeah. Call me back.”

“Good Morning!” Kathryn grins.

“I-… good morning, Ms Hahn.” Alex is now frantically fixing her hair that she had opened right when she realized she was talking to Kathryn.

“Call me Kathryn, honey. Kathryn is just right. And you are?”

You can tell Alex is about to pass out “Alexandra. But more like Alex. Alex is just fine.”

“It suits her better anyway.” You chime in from off the camera, just as you just got your self confidence back.

“BISH! Uhm, I mean.. Y/N!” Alex catches herself and the two of you make Kathryn laugh wholeheartedly.

She hands the phone back to you and starts moving back to the house. “I’ll leave you two to it for a moment and get the coffee. It was nice meeting you, Alex. Let me know if you need anything else, Y/N.” She smiles before she sends you a short wink as the camera is facing you again.

“DUDE.” Alex is close enough to her phone now that her whole face fills the screen.

“I KNOW.” You reply as you watch Kathryn walk through the hallway towards the kitchen.

Alex gets your attention back. “I thought you were still alone in bed, I’m so sorry. But like… oh my god. You need to fill me in. Like. OH MY GOD.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “I will definitely talk to you tonight, missy. And you need to like… I don’t even know.. get her. Like WOW. Have you SEEN her? I mean… wow.”

You smile, thinking back at last night. “Yeah, wow.” 

You see Kathryn making her way back through the hallway windows and look at Alex. “Honey, I will call or text you as soon as I get home, yeah? I love you, byyyyye.” And with that you hang up, not even awaiting a response, as Kathryn opens the door and steps out into the garden again.

“She’s cute,” She says as she makes her way to you. “Why’s she not your girlfriend?”

You stop for a moment and look at her. What an odd question to ask. Is she jealous? Does she want you to have someone else? What is this about? You’re probably overthinking right now, but still, a question like that right after meeting Alex doesn’t sit quite right with you. 

Brushing it off, you look at her and laugh. “She is married. That’s like… a big reason. Plus I adore her wife so… no no NO.” 

Kathryn chuckles. “I see. I’m sorry if this question was too direct. I was just wondering, since both of you are cute and… you know.”

“Yeah…” you say and Kathryn starts to realize that your thoughts are going places in your head right now.

She places a hand on your arm as you sit down. “Stop worrying. Alright? You are all good. It was a stupid joke. I’m sorry.” You know she means it and look at her thankfully as your smile finds its way back onto your face.

Breakfast is cute and calm as the two of you sit in comfortable silence and just enjoy each other’s presence. It’s a Sunday after all. The silence gets interrupted as Kathryn’s phone lights up and Jennifer‘s name appears on the screen. 

“Oh shoot.” She jumps up and takes her manager's call, walking away from the area.

You watch Kathryn gesturing wild as you sip your tea and can’t tell if she looks excited or stressed about what is being said on the phone. She finally hangs up and sits down across from you again. You want to ask what’s up but choose not to - she will tell you things if she feels like it after all.

Locking eyes with you, she sights before putting on a grin. “I got a new job.”

You can’t believe she really IS sharing information with you. “That’s amazing Kathryn! I am so excited!!!” You really want to ask her about more details but feel like it is not your place to do so.

“Yeah… yeah it is,” She doesn’t seem too convinced herself as she looks at you and you ask her about it by simply raising an eyebrow. “Well… it’s nice and all, but I’ll have to leave the country for a while. The movie gets shot in Europe and, to be honest, I have never really left the country that long for a job before.”

You appreciate how open she is with you and reach out to place your hand on hers. “I get that. And, I mean, I don’t even know what project you are working on. But, I really don’t need you to tell me what it is to know that it is gonna be just great.”

She smiles fondly and nods. “You’re right. It’s just…. You…,” locking eyes with you it seems like she is searching for words and reaches out for you to help her. “I really enjoy your company, Y/N and… you know.”

“I know.” You say and for a moment you think about kissing her. Just pulling her closer, next to you, onto your lap, anywhere really and capturing her lips with yours but somehow you feel like last night was last night and today is today. A different story.

“Really, Kathryn, it’s gonna be just great. Don’t worry about me.” You mean it and as your thoughts trail off and you ask yourself what project she might work on, you don’t realize how she is launching forward to pin you down on the side of the couch you are sitting on. It's one swift movement that you didn't see coming at all.

You open your eyes in shock and start panting as you realize she placed her body and basically all her weight on top of you while holding onto your wrists. The look she is giving you now is different to every look she has given you ever before and her pupils are dilated. You lie underneath her in shock and you know very well that this very moment is everything you ever wanted, while at the same time there is so much you should talk about, so you can't really enjoy the moment right now.

"Kathryn, I…" You start, but she is already removing herself from you.

"I know! I know. I don't know what came over me. I guess I'll just miss you. A lot." A forced smile appears on her face and you wish you could comfort her, but really, you are just as hurt.

You feel like it's time to ask her what the two of you are exactly, test out the waters and see where she stands in all of it, but at the same time you feel like it is way too early and you don't really know why you are thinking about all of this in the first place and as you think about it more you can literally feel the panic setting in and you are probably overthinking but really, we are talking about Kathryn Hahn here, so really, where could this lead?

Right as Kathryn sits up and fixes her dress on her side of the couch again, her phone starts chiming endlessly as she is reaching for her coffee. Her hand changes paths and grabs the device instead and you watch her as she leans back into her cushions after shooting you an apologetic look.

"Oh no, OH NO. Oh no no no no no." She sits up straight again and swipes through her phone.

Worried, you sit down right next to her without looking at her screen to keep her privacy. "How can I help you?" She turns towards you and looks at you with kind eyes before placing her free hand on your upper side. "You are already doing a lot by grounding me, sweetheart. That's more than most people can do for me."

You smile cheekily and get more comfortable next to her after planting a short kiss on her cheek. "Happy to provide." She reacts differently than you anticipated because, given the situation that just happened, you thought she would be very much into the idea of you getting closer to her again. Instead, she is looking at you with sad eyes as she slowly lowers her phone to give you her full attention.

Your smile fades and you prepare for the worst, not knowing what makes her look this sad.

"Jennifer mailed. She made a mistake. It was a late booking. I will travel to the set in Europe by the end of the week. But cast and crew get together starts tomorrow. On the other side of the country."

[satendou]

⟼  make a trade

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢  pairing: bokuto kotaro/reader/tendo satori

⇢ au: college!au, poly!au

⇢ summary: tendou is doing his best to give you and bokuto some alone time, but at every turn his plan backfires. dates go awry and he winds up interrupting you more than ever. after another failed date, a twist of luck gives you the solution to his problem.

⇥  masterlist

⇥  requests are open! | rules

⇢  warnings: two different established relationships, polyamory, mild angst, fingering, double penetration, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie

⇢  word count: 7.1k

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢  a/n: i know i know, they’re a weird pairing. tell me they don’t give off similar vibes tho. as usual, thank you to the woml @keijiskitten​ for not only editing this but for hardcore hyping me in her comments. ilysm.

The rain beat a rhythmic tattoo on the top of Tendo’s umbrella as he wandered home, matching his mood and the rapid pace of his heart. Water splashed up with every step, spraying his shoes and the cuffs of his jeans and he wondered idly if they would dry before classes tomorrow. Thunder echoed in the distance, but his pace remained the same.

Lost in a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, he paid little attention to where he was going, choosing to stare at his feet as he wondered, not for the first time, why he wasn’t good enough.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out despite the danger of the rain. The racing of his thoughts quieted down when he saw your smiling face, relief washing through him at the distraction as he hit talk.

You were quiet for a moment, waiting for him to make or break the start of the conversation and, when he said nothing, you sighed. “Hurry home, okay? I have ice cream and Insidious ready to play. I don’t want you getting electrocuted.”

On the other end of the line, you could hear the steady patter of rain and a plethora of unspoken words and feelings. Normally that would have made him laugh.

You hated this, the aftereffects of a failed date or relationship. It took all the life out of your bright and bubbly Tendo, the effect of years of built up insecurities and walls. He was open and sweet as could be to the people he let in, but that trust was fragile.

“Alright.”

That one word spoke volumes about how he was feeling. Whether he was stood up or there was just no interest on their part, it didn’t matter. But he wasn’t crying, which meant that at least it wasn’t another joke date. You had nearly burned down the dorms over that one and after a frantic night of comforting Tendo after you found him, you had gathered up your friends and made a show out of supporting him. It had taken him weeks to recover from that and a lot of nights were spent in your arms, clingy and needy and making sure you were there. 

Even if he didn’t tell you as much, you knew that’s what he was doing. That one stupid little prank had sent him back into his own personal hell, one it had taken you months to work him out of in the first place. Trust from him was hard to come by, but he was loyal to a fault once you had it.

“Baby, you know I love you, right?” you asked, and he almost missed it over the rain. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, staring down at his dirty sneakers as a flash of doubt struck through him. His heart clenched in his chest, the pain almost unbearable as he realized what he was doing to himself.

Suddenly, he just wanted to be home, where you would kiss and hug his insecurities away, proving your words were true and you weren’t just saying them.

“I’ll be home in a few,” he said and hung up. It would have startled you if you weren’t used to it. He tended to act before he thought, and once he set a course it was like it took over. Knowing a few literally meant a few, you returned to the living room, where your own guest lay sprawled across the couch still.

You could see the white frosted tips over the back of the couch, hear his quiet laughter at whatever was playing on the TV, head propped up in his hand. When you sat down in front of him, leaning against his stomach and sighing, he muted it.

“Ah, do you want me to leave? I guess it didn’t go so well,” Bokuto said, wrapping one arm around your waist. He wasn’t usually so perceptive, but it was such a specific sound that he just knew what it meant.

It was an impromptu date for the two of you, what with Tendo having one of his own. You had called him up an hour before and asked what he was doing and whether he wanted to hang out for a while, but with Tendo on his way home… Not that he minded you and Bokuto being together, and they got along great, which was a relief for you. There was a running joke in your group of friends about how one of the world’s seven great mysteries was how the hell you managed to curb the two of them at the same time.

The answer was there was no curbing it, you just watched them burn bright. Pretty sight, usually. The chaotic energy they channeled was amazing, so long as it wasn’t directed at you. Which meant not letting them get bored, which meant you were constantly on the go. Not that that was a bad thing, it was just a lot.

“It didn’t, but it’s storming and your dorm is all the way on the other side of campus,” you answered, running your fingers through his hair. A quick shower after he came in had rid him of the gel he had put in earlier that day-- dummy hadn’t brought an umbrella and the bottom opened just before he reached your apartment. You opened the door to find him absolutely soaked and laughing his fool head off while you ushered him in.

He sat on the couch while you towel dried his hair, leaving it artfully messy and fluffy and god was he ever gorgeous. You had just started making out, one of his hands on your ass and the other sliding up your shirt, when you got a text from Ushiwaka.

‘Tendo texted me. You need to call him.’

“Oh hell,” you groaned, threading your fingers through your hair. That could only mean one thing and sure enough, he was on his way home.

Bokuto hummed, catching your hand and kissing your palm and inner wrist. “If you’re sure it’ll be okay. I know how he gets and I don’t wanna intrude.”

Truth be told, he very much did want to intrude. You and Tendo together was something he had dreamed of more than once, though you both seemed oblivious. Which was absolutely ridiculous given he wasn’t known for his subtlety. And Tendo was supposed to be known for being good at guessing shit. Clearly that only applied to volleyball because he was missing Bokuto’s clear cues.

“Yeah, it’s too late now anyway,” you said as the lock turned with a dull click and Tendo stepped in. He looked unsurprised to see Bokuto there-- if anything he looked a little guilty. The front of his jeans was splattered with mud and there were flecks of water on his waterproof windbreaker. His breath was coming out in pants, indicating he had been running, and he collapsed onto the couch at Bokuto’s feet after dumping his jacket on the back of the loveseat.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, pulling himself up into a sitting position. “You ready for some ice cream and horror?”

Flashing Bokuto a grateful look, you scooted down until you were seated practically on top of Tendo. The couch shifted as Bokuto stood, wandering into the kitchen and rifling loudly through drawers and cabinets. You wanted to say it was for show, to let you know he was giving you space, but really it was just how he naturally was.

Boy didn’t know how to do anything quietly.

“You wanna talk about it?” you asked, carding your fingers through his hair. The humidity had dampened the gel, his spiky locks falling down onto his forehead. They came away slightly sticky, but you did it again anyway.

Tendo stared at his knees, heaving a sigh. “She took one look at me and made an excuse to leave. Something about how she remembered her mom needed her help with something. Real original, right?”

Poor Tendo. It was a recurring theme throughout his childhood and highschool life. In elementary school, they had called him a monster. In highschool it settled down, but those who hadn’t been able to get past his appearance to see the bright soul underneath still spread rumors, calling him creepy and a freak, a thug and a delinquent. It had eased up once he made his friends on the volleyball team-- no one had wanted to get on Ushiwaka’s bad side.

Volleyball had given him a measure of self-confidence that he had never had, but that was as far as it went. Anyone outside of his circle of friends was met with suspicion, even if he didn’t show it. He was good at putting on a show for strangers, but anyone who knew him knew the difference. You hadn’t managed to get him to agree to a date for almost a year after meeting him, working your ass off to prove to him you wanted it.

It was Ushiwaka who kept you going, promising you that Tendo liked you just as much but he was afraid. “Just give him time, and don’t give up on him. He needs this, _____.”

So, shortly after a year had passed, he finally let you into his good graces and it was like your life had exploded into color. There was never a dull moment with Tendo before, but after he agreed to a date it was like the faucet had gotten stuck on and there was nothing anyone could do to turn it off.

Everything Tendo did was done with some measure of erratic carelessness, right down to getting dressed in the morning. Dragging you along to games and on dates without asking was something you had grown used to. Seeing everything the way he did came later, when you reached the point in your relationship where your thoughts synced up and you knew what the other was thinking without even having to think.

It didn’t matter that it had been years since you first got together, you still received texts throughout the day that held no coherent meaning, but you understood nonetheless to mean I love you. Whether it was a phrase in the book he was reading for lit class or the way the sun reflected off the screen of his phone, if he was reminded of you you were sure to find out.

You still woke up in his arms every morning, long legs tangled with yours, drool at the corner of his mouth as he snored softly into your ear. It made no difference if you had gone to bed angry with one another, you always woke up surrounded by warmth and strong arms.

So why were you the only one who could see that?

“I’m sorry, baby. She clearly doesn’t know a good thing when she sees one, if she did that,” you said, a familiar phrase versed a hundred different ways every time he came home after a failed date. 

Being completely honest, you had no idea why Tendo continued to agree to them. You admired him for persevering and not giving up, but his determination to try was somehow disheartening. Not that you were afraid he was trying to replace you, god knew that was the last thing on his mind, but you didn’t understand what he was aiming for. Even when you asked, he’d just shrug.

“Just playin’ the field, princess. No real reason.”

That obviously just wasn’t true, because otherwise he wouldn’t be so torn up over others’ judgments and assumptions.

His head fell to your shoulder, arms winding around your waist, releasing a long sigh into your neck. “Yeah, I know.”

It really didn’t sound like he knew, and he really didn’t feel like he knew either. The only thing he was sure of was you, the only constant good thing in his life. Besides Ushiwaka and volleyball and apparently Bokuto, but those just weren't the same.

The couch shifted beside you once again and you lost your balance. Only Bokuto’s hand at your back kept you upright, and you paused to readjust. Tendo followed suit, moving around you like a jellyfish until you were settled into Bokuto’s side, his head resting on your lap as you continued to stroke his hair.

The opening scene to The Hills Have Eyes played on the TV, the tub of ice cream Bokuto had spent 15 minutes getting out of the freezer thawing on the table beside three spoons.

“Everybody ready for some scares?” Bokuto asked, slinging his arm around your shoulders. This was new territory for him. While the three of you would sometimes spend time together studying or hanging out with friends, a whole date night was something that had never come up. Especially not after a backfired date. Usually if that happened Bokuto would book it at your request, leaving you to clean up the pieces of your partner.

Tendo hummed, his sleepy eyes half-closed, long fingers intertwined with yours on your thigh, almost touching Bokuto’s. You pressed play on the movie and silence lapsed as the opening credits played, Bokuto opening the tub of ice cream and digging out a spoonful. He offered it to you, and you giggled around the mouthful, way too big for you. Tendo looked up and smiled a little in response to the sound and sat up, receiving a spoonful in his face as well. 

Taking it like a champ, he swallowed it before saying, “I’ll be right back. Gonna go change.”

The light in the bedroom flicked on and you paused the movie while Bokuto took a bite, tempted to get up and follow after him. But he was lightning quick and settled back down beside you before you could make a decision, pressing play once again.

Bokuto slid his arm from around your shoulders when Tendo pulled you in close, nuzzling his nose into your hair. The rain still thundered outside, indicating a long and miserable walk home if he wanted to leave. Which, being honest, he didn’t. He liked being with you and Tendo and, though he couldn’t tell for sure, thought Tendo liked having him around too. At least, he assumed that because he assumed everyone liked having him around. 

Can’t be wrong if he isn’t aware of it, right?

It more than surprised him-- even though he was casually watching from the corner of his eyes-- when you leaned back into his side, Tendo’s elbows digging into his ribs from the combined weight of both of you. Tendo’s face was still hidden in your neck, and he didn’t shy away from the contact, while your head tilted at a very awkward angle to meet his eye, giving him a sly smirk.

Maybe Bokuto wasn’t as subtle as he thought he was being. 

Which was absolutely true, it had just taken you awhile to figure out if Tendo would be okay with it. Also, if asked, you would swear it was Tendo who had pushed you into him, and he wouldn’t deny it either.

Tendo wasn’t unaware of Bokuto at all. The former ace of Fukurodani-- and current ace of his college team-- was hard to miss. Frosted spiky tips, sharp yellow eyes that appeared scary until he opened his mouth and said something utterly stupid, an easygoing personality and muscles for days were all things Tendo could appreciate. That he made you happy was just a really, really amazing bonus and was one of the reasons he liked Bokuto in the first place.

The other reason being, of course, that he didn’t treat Tendo like an outsider when they first met. Nothing about his strange appearance or name had troubled him and, if anything, seemed to draw Bokuto to him. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why at first, but he liked Bokuto right from the start. It was a lot like how he had latched onto Ushiwaka when they first met and assumed it was just his open acceptance of him.

You later pointed out that it was because the two of them were too similar. “Two chaotic entities occupying the same space. Thank god you get along or you’d destroy the world,” you had said when he brought it up to you. That had made him laugh hard enough to cry, but it also seemed to fit the way the others viewed them when they got together.

“Oh god everyone run, they’re together again.”

“Someone call _____ or they’re gonna burn the mall down.”

Etc., etc., he couldn’t remember what else they’d said. Not that it mattered, because when he was with the both of you he felt right.

And when you had started dating Bokuto, he hadn’t been bothered because it still felt right. Until he realized that the two of you would probably want some alone time and he found himself with a lot of free time-- and doubts. Unable to process those doubts-- his mind was always too muddled and on the go to really nail down a problem-- he settled on finding his own second partner, hoping that doing so would calm his erratic thoughts.

And that obviously did not work because every time he tried to go out, he would end up interrupting your date with Bokuto. Even though you said it was fine and never seemed angry, it seemed like his attempts to give you a little bit of range were backfiring, and every time he wondered if this was going to be the night that you let him have it.

“What, ‘Tori?” you asked, breaking your eye contact with Bokuto to look down at the red head in your arms. You could hear him muttering something that sounded vaguely like an apology, but it was muffled by the sound of the TV and his face hidden in your neck. 

Bokuto looked curious when you looked back up at him, brows quirked in confusion and a question in your eyes. You looked adorable, and he snickered into his hand. He could never take anything too seriously, after all and, even though you looked concerned it was outweighed by the cuteness factor.

“I--” Tendo started, drawing both of your attention. He pulled back, kneeling up between your legs and scratching the back of his head. “I’m sorry, you know. For always interrupting your dates. I’ve been trying to give you some space but it just seems like it happens more when I do. It really isn’t intentional.”

The childlike fear as he looked anywhere but at the two of you would have been amusing if he didn’t sound so nervous. Instead it just broke your heart that he thought he had to remove himself to make you happy. Of course, that was typical of Tendo. If you weren’t getting it from him, he thought it meant you didn’t need him around.

You really should’ve noticed sooner. Tendo had never dated around before you started seeing Bokuto. It was so obvious to you now, after it had already been explained to you, and you cursed yourself.

Before you could say anything, Bokuto’s laughter broke the silence and two sets of eyes whipped around to him. His hand covered his eyes as his shoulders shook, the sound somehow both light and condescending and you weren’t sure what it meant.

When he finally looked back up, he was staring directly at Tendo.

“You know, for someone who’s supposed to be so observant you sure are oblivious sometimes. We never said we didn’t want you around. You just went off and assumed that was the case. Did you consider we might want you here?” he asked, resting his cheek on his curled fist, vivid yellow eyes locked on vermillion.

Tendou sank down a little, hands resting on your knees, but he couldn’t look away from Bokuto. “I don’t know. I guess I never really did.”

Bokuto finally broke eye contact just to roll them, a single, fluid motion that you couldn’t hope to do in a million years. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be so good at reading people, you really are oblivious.”

“You said that already. You’ve been hanging out with Kuroo too much. Do you even know what oblivious means?” Tendo asked, his voice lighter than it had been all night. It suddenly felt like his dark world had exploded with light and color, returning to him his happiness.

“No, but did I use it right?” Bokuto asked, leaning forward and it was like a switch flipped and all three of you were laughing, pure and unadulterated, until tears streamed down your cheeks and you had to stop for fear that you’d die because you couldn’t breathe.

You had ended up with your head in Bokuto’s lap as you wiped your tears away, Tendo having fallen down to lay his on your stomach while he took in wheezy breaths. Bokuto was the last to stop laughing, his arm tossed over his eyes while he gasped for air.

Carding your fingers through Tendo’s soft locks, you asked, “So does this mean you’ll stop going out with all these people that don’t know what they’ve got, Sato? I can’t stand seeing you hurting because of them. And all because you think you need to give me space. As if you’ve given me an ounce since we started dating.”

Tendou laughed lightly again, his eyes closing as he traced patterns into the skin of your stomach, exposed where your shirt had ridden up while you were rolling around.

I love you.

Mine.

My sunshine.

Those were just a few of the things he thought of you on a daily basis, the most prevalent in his mind when your face flashed in his mind-- which was a very frequent occurrence, if he was being honest. If Tendo didn’t think about you at least once every ten minutes, he considered his day wasted. Which doubled if he added Bokuto into the mix, and he did. Often.

You giggled, wiggling a little as it tickled, but he didn’t stop. In fact, he started to actually tickle you, pinning your hips down so you couldn’t get away.

Two more hands wrapped around your wrists, pulling them away from where you were tugging at Tendo’s hair and smacking his arms and back, trying to get him to stop, and you wailed in despair. “This isn’t fair. Stop, stop please, I’m gonna--”

God if that begging didn’t sound awfully familiar. You sounded just like you did when he didn’t stop fucking you after you’d came.

Oops.

Tendo was the first to notice, his hand grazing over the hard tent in Bokuto’s shorts, and he stopped short to stare first at it then up at him. You didn’t notice that the tickling had stopped for a moment, stomach still tensed and ready for it to continue. When you finally opened your eyes, you found the two of them locked in a steady gaze and were confused by the sudden intensity.

“Can you blame me? Did you hear the sounds she was makin’? I mean, that was hot as fuck,” Bokuto said with a shrug and your cheeks flushed hot as you realized what he meant.

“Well it wasn’t my fault,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. You weren’t really upset and they both knew it, now grinning at each other. It wasn’t exactly what either of them thought would happen tonight but were either of them going to complain?

The hands that wrapped around your upper arms and tugged you up said no, and so did the hands that skimmed up your sides tickling as they pushed your shirt up. And what were you going to say, trapped between two of the most gorgeous men you could imagine? It was a literal dream come true-- you had dreamt about it on more than one occasion and woken up in a heated sweat. 

Tendo liked those nights, even if he didn’t know the reason behind it.

Lifting your arms above your head, you let Bokuto pull your shirt off over your head, leaving your breasts to Tendo’s heated lips wrapping around your nipple. A familiar hand cupped your other breast, pinching and rolling that nipple between rough and calloused fingers and you craned your neck back.

Bokuto instantly knew what you wanted, his lips colliding with yours and swallowing the little gasps that had been leaving your lips. He didn’t know what kind of lover Tendo was, but you had certainly never complained about him, and wondered how their styles would mix. 

Fingers wrapped around his, pulling his hand from your breast and he snatched it away, using it to cup your chin instead. The hand that had been on your hip, holding you steady, replaced the breast Tendou had just abandoned, occupying the wet, sensitive bud with his fingers. Your back was arched away from his chest, moaning into his mouth as he tasted you.

Tendou had engulfed your other nipple in his mouth, sucking and rolling it between his teeth, flicking it with his tongue as he rubbed your pussy outside the fabric of your shorts.

“No panties, huh, princess?” he asked, hot breath ghosting over your wet nipple and making you shiver. The shorts hid none of the wetness you were leaking, the smooth fabric feeling rough against your clit and you trembled as Bokuto’s breath hit your ear.

“Were you plannin’ to have your way with me tonight, kitten? Thought I’d fuck this pretty pussy before Satori came home?” he whispered, nipping the shell sharply while he pinched your nipple. 

You jerked in his hold when Tendo kissed the soft flesh of your inner thighs, not even realizing he’d gotten down there until you felt his teeth. He nuzzled the area now sporting a red mark, taking in the smell of your coconut body wash, hands sliding up over your hips and hooking in the waistband of your shorts. When they were off, he gave you just one long, slow lick up your slick folds before he pulled back.

“Get on your knees, princess,” he commanded as he shed his own shirt, lanky torso flexing and stretching as he pulled it over his head. While you followed his order, he and Bokuto undressed, shedding clothes and dropping them right next to the couch.

You inhaled sharply through your nose when Bokuto settled back down behind you, the hard length of his cock poking between your legs, grazing your wet outer lips. His hands roamed over your torso, taking a handful of your tits and squeezing your hips until Tendo settled in front of you, and for the first time they paused, looking at each other over your shoulder.

Bokuto reacted first, beckoning to Tendo with his finger, who leaned closer to your shoulder. You automatically shifted out of the way, hands coming to rest on his arm and chest to balance yourself.

The first kiss was hesitant and soft, testing the water to see if it was what they wanted. It was, Tendo’s chapped lips parting to glide across Bokuto’s soft ones-- the result of religious use of chapstick. He responded instantly, tongue poking out to meet Tendo’s and you could feel the reaction in the way they squeezed you tighter, until one of Tendo’s hands left, carding his fingers through Bokuto’s limp grey locks.

The taste of ice cream lingered on their tongues when they pulled apart, pupils blown wide with a newfound lust for each other, wide eyes locked. Definitely new territory, as Tendo had never managed to snag a date with another man before.

Not that he had tried particularly hard-- he just didn’t try to date anyone, until you.

And now here he was, making out with Bokuto of all people. Wild.

Bokuto was the first to turn his attention back to you, distracted by the way your hips moved, gliding your slick folds along his cock. He sighed into your neck, kissing and licking the juncture of your shoulder as he began to rock his to meet yours, applying more pressure to your clit.

Your little hitched gasps and pants were music to their ears, Bokuto whispering against your skin, “You’re so wet for us, kitten. Did that turn you on? You’re dripping all over my cock.”

“How do we want her?” Tendo asked, sliding his cock in beside Bokuto’s, and you shivered as they talked about what they wanted to do to you.

“I don’t know about you, but I wanna take this pretty ass. How does that sound, beautiful?” he asked low into your ear. His tongue flicked out, tracing the shell of your ear and sparks flew down your spine.

Tendo smirked when your lips parted, looking up at him with wide eyes. Leaning over you, he grazed his lips over yours, laughing in his throat at the way you followed after him, seeking more. “You gotta tell him what you want, princess. Is that okay with you?”

You nodded, a low whine leaving your lips. “Yes, Ko, please that sounds so good.”

The slow movements over your slit stopped, the heat of his cock receding to be replaced with long, lithe fingers, and you instantly recognized them as Tendo’s. “And how does it sound if I fuck this pretty pussy, princess? You want both of us inside you at once?”

Once again you nodded, fingers tightening and nails digging into Tendo’s upper arm as his fingers probed inside of you, stretching your walls around two at once. You were already so wet you didn’t even flinch, moaning his name as Bokuto’s warmth disappeared from your back.

Heavy footsteps receded, barely noticed in your pleasured state, but Tendo watched over your shoulder as he stomped, proudly naked, down the hall into the bedroom. There was some rustling, like he was rifling through something, before he appeared again, bottle in hand.

Tendo knew it was there, but wasn’t something he’d bought nor used very often. But when he found it one day and asked, he’d hardened instantly when you told him Bokuto was more of an ass man than a pussy man. The filthy way you said that had led to several rounds in bed, during which he found out just why Bokuto liked it so much.

The snap of the plastic cap fell on deaf ears as Tendo continued to plunge his fingers into your tight heat, thumb circling over your clit with every thrust. You were practically dripping down his wrist and he knew when Bokuto had started by the way you clenched down on his fingers, a surprised gasp leaving your lips.

Behind you, Bokuto pressed his slicked up finger to your tight entrance, circling and massaging until you were wet enough to slide into. You squeezed down around him, a small, needy whine filling his ears while you fell forward into Tendou’s chest. Your fingernails bit into his skin, leaving angry crescent marks and you tried to focus on the feel of three fingers pumping in and out of you, gathering up your slick wetness and stretching you open. 

A second finger pressed into your ass, scissoring just enough to feel mindblowing, while a third slid into your pussy and just thinking about how many fingers were fucking you was enough to send thrills of pleasure to your toes.

“God, princess, you look so beautiful,” Tendo whispered, his eyes narrowed as he watched your lips part and your skin turn pink. Each moan made his cock throb, dripping precum and aching to be inside you, but he would wait until Bokuto was ready. All he could think about was the whines and moans you would give them as they both filled you up at the same time, fluttering around them with no way to escape. Not that you would try-- you were practically begging them already, your pretty lips open and shiny as you licked them.

He leaned over to kiss you, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth and nipping, eliciting another moan from you.

Or maybe it was Bokuto that did that, a third slicked up finger probing into you, intensifying the stretch as he opened your ass up to be able to take his cock. He knew exactly how much you needed, how much you could take, and he couldn’t wait until you were ready to swallow him up. He could feel Tendo’s fingers bumping against his as they thrust inside of you in tandem, the sounds of your slick pussy and ass making his mouth water.

The pads of Tendo’s fingers were rough, brushing against the soft spot inside of you in time with your clit and you could steadily feel your orgasm closing in, moaning into his mouth as your nails dug into his shoulder. It was one thing to cum around a toy while Bokuto fucked your ass-- it was quite another to cum around his fingers while Tendou fingered your cunt and you tricked yourself into your orgasm with the thought, crying and whining against his lips while your thighs trembled with the urge to snap closed. Your hips rocked, unable to escape their assault, Bokuto spreading his fingers more before easing them out of you.

They were replaced with the head of his dripping cock, throbbing with need and more than ready to feel you wrapped around him.

Tendo followed suit, lining himself up with your dripping hole, dragging his tip up and down your sensitive slit and feeling you quiver. He smirked down at you, vermillion eyes half lidded in amused pleasure, and took in your blissed out, blank expression.

The snap of the lube bottle caught his attention again, followed by the sounds of Bokuto fucking his own hand, lubing his cock up.  He wiped his fingers off on his shirt, mindless of the fact that he’d need to wear it later.

While you waited, Tendo decided to make use of your mouth. Sliding the fingers still covered in your essence between your parted lips, he commanded, “Suck.”

Your plump lips immediately wrapped around them, tongue laving and teeth grazing the pad, staring up at him with the widest, most innocent expression you could manage. He could see right through it.

“You ready, kitten? I can’t wait anymore. Need to feel you,” Bokuto said, a low groan riding in his throat as he nudged his tip into you, just waiting for you to give the okay, and Tendo slid his fingers from between your lips.

“Ko, fuck yes. Give me your cock,” you moaned, reaching back to tangle your fingers in his hair. 

His lips parted against your shoulder, a shaky breath of air puffing over your skin as he followed your command. You trembled and moaned in his hold as he slid into you, his cock stretching you further still even after all the prepping he did with his fingers. Your ass offered little resistance, giving into his throbbing cock and you whined, toes curling in pleasure until he was seated deep inside you.

Tendou gave you one warning nudge before he pushed inside your slick cunt, splitting your pussy open with a wet noise and a groan, your walls fluttering uselessly around him. Your eyes rolled back, thoughts nonexistent beyond Ohfuckohfuckohfuck, until his hips met yours and stilled.d

Both men’s breathing was erratic, fingers white knuckled on your hips and sides, squeezing tight enough that they were going to leave marks come the morning, not that any of you cared. All you could focus on was the incredibly full feeling, their cocks twitching every time you fluttered around them.

Bokuto released another stuttery moan, the first to thrust slowly in and out of you, testing to make sure you could take it. When all you did was moan, tugging his hair and arching your back into Tendo, he cursed, rough hands sliding up over your ribs and cupping your tits. Your hips stuttered when he pinched your nipples, keening in the back of your throat. “What a slut, taking us so easily like this. How do we feel, kitten? You’re so tight, squeezing around me. Gonna cum in this pretty ass tonight.”

You couldn’t think of a coherent response, whimpering out only a raspy, “So good, so big, feels so good, Ko.”

Tendo tentatively rolled his hips as well, watching your eyes flutter and roll, lips parting as you cried out, both of them stuffing themselves inside you at the same time. The only thing you could do was hold on, your head tilted back on Bokuto’s shoulder as they picked up their erratic pace, not setting a solid one and you couldn’t figure out if they were doing it on purpose or not, but it was working. Sometimes they were both buried deep inside of you, sometimes they synced up so that only one of them was in you at a time, but they kept a tight hold on your tits and hips, keeping you from taking control.

The sloppy sounds of their thrusts into your wet holes overshadowed the movie still playing in the background, only getting louder the faster they pounded into you. Tendo bucked up, grinding deep into you, the coarse curls at the base of his shaft tickling your clit while the head of his cock kissed your cervix, and a sharp jolt of pleasure careened through you.

Both reacted, hard cocks jerking inside of you, and Tendo repeated the motion on the next thrust and you called his name like a plea, nails dragging down the back of his neck. A string of babbles left your lips, their names mixed with cries for more, harder, deeper. They gave you as much as they could, cocks slamming in and out of you as fast as their muscles would allow, the wet slap of their hips against yours a constant sound on top of the ones leaving your lips.

Abandoning your breast, one of Bokuto’s hands slid down, grazing Tendo’s flexing abs to cup your clit, rubbing rough circles around it and you flinched, the already intense pleasure overwhelming.

You came around them with no other warning than a sharp cry, surprising them and they hilted inside you at the same time, turning your cry into a scream, back taut and eyes clenched tightly closed. White flooded your brain, vaguely aware of the hearted moans in your ears as they came, warmth filling you, and their stiff cocks throbbing inside of you.

For a moment afterwards, none of you moved, too focused on the rapid pace of your heart and your erratic breathing. Sweat covered your skin, covering the lovebites and scratch marks you had each left behind on each other. Bokuto’s face was hidden in your shoulder, his chest heaving against your back with uneven breaths, and Tendou’s forehead rested on yours, eyes closed as he too fought to regain his breath.

Bokuto was the first to speak, a broken and huffy, “Wow*.”

You laughed, lacing your fingers between his and squeezing. “Wow is not enough to describe that. You need to expand your vocabulary.”

Tendo huffed at your antics, his sweet breath fanning across your face as he said, “That was absolutely min dblowing. Exquisite. Fantastic. Do any of those work?”

“Much better,” you answered, and almost fell back as Bokuto stood up off the couch. Your legs were too wobbly to hold yourself up properly, and his hand on your back guided you to sit down. You could feel the mess seeping from between your legs and cringed at the idea of getting it all over the couch. Looking up to Bokuto, you said, “I need to go to the bathroom and clean up. Um, help?”

With a laugh, he pulled you up by the hand and lifted you into his arms, carrying you down the hall to the bathroom. You could hear Tendo cackling from the couch at your annoyed whining, smacking Bokuto’s hard muscles. Not that you were really upset, it was just embarrassing that your legs literally refused to work.

After a session in which you got a bit dirtier before you got clean, you were bundled up on the couch again, splayed out over Bokuto’s broad chest while Tendo was squeezed in behind you. His arm was draped over your side, idly tracing patterns into Bokuto’s skin-- as he had neglected to put on a shirt-- his head resting on his shoulder.

You had foregone the previous movie and moved onto The Grudge, the melted ice cream thrown back into the freezer in hopes of salvaging it. Tendo was gonna be pissed if it wasn’t. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, half-listening to Bokuto and Tendo’s quiet conversation over your head.

“So, we were gonna go to Tokyo for break. Kuroo and Kenma are going for a gaming convention and invited us along. Akaashi is going too. I know you said you didn’t want to come, but maybe that’s changed?” Bokuto asked, his fingers petting over your wet hair. In the glare from the TV, he could see the insecurity return to Tendo’s eyes, though he tried not to show it. 

“Are you sure? I wasn’t gonna go because I was trying to give the two of you--”

The steady rhythm over your hair stopped and your eyes fluttered open for a moment, locking onto the TV. The Grudge was in the corner, staring down at the old woman, making that awful noise, and you shut them again, trying to block out the sound with your partners’ voices.

Bokuto had covered Tendo’s mouth with his hand, cutting him short before he could finish saying “space.”

“It’s the three of us now, if you want it to be. And yes, we want you to go. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t. You need to stop being so hard on yourself, Sa-toh-ri,” he said, repeating the name the way Tendou had so many times on the court.

He hadn’t realized Bokuto was listening to him that closely and flushed with warmth. 

“Alright, sure. It sounds like fun. Do you know what they’re doing?”

The sounds of the TV and their voices faded, a smile adorning your face as you fell asleep to the knowledge that Tendo had finally realized he was good enough, if only for the right people. It was all you had wanted for him, and if Bokuto was the one to help him figure that out, it was all the better.

⇥  masterlist 

⇥ taglist: @lyovochkaa​ @kunimwuah​

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Shackled

Chapter 1

Summary: After nearly ten years, Sam Winchester calls Miriam Bard to collect on a life debt. Unfortunately for Miriam, Sam leaves out a few important details.

Warning: Implied loss of family, grieving, depression, cursing, Demon!Dean, Sam’s tendency to leave out vital details for folks helping him to save Dean (read: Sam’s tendency to be a Winchester)

Word count: 1,895

Author’s Note: This story would not be possible without @thoughtslikeaminefield​ , who convinced me to write and finish this story, cheered me on every step of the way, and convinced me that even after over a year of not finishing a single thing, I hadn’t lost my writing after all. MJ, thank you for poking the story til it squeaked. And for the banner. And lots and lots of other things. If you’re reading this, hi! Have a seat and strap in, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride (in the best way!).

“Hey, Miriam, it’s Sam...Sam Winchester...I don’t know if you remember me from-”

“I remember you, Sam. Not likely to forget a Winchester, much less...it’s one in the morning, what’s up?”

“I need to call in that favor.”

“All right. Where do you need me?”

…

Miriam stared blearily at the road as it stretched out in an infinite blur of dismal sameness, each expanse of asphalt and surrounding fields a dreary replica of the one before.

The last couple hundred or so miles had been hypnotically wretched, especially with the remnants of her headache hanging on by the tips of its claws since Sam Winchester had woken her with a phone call a few hours ago.

Caffeine and aspirin had taken the edges off, but straining her eyes into the endless darkness, alternating occasionally with too-bright headlights shattering the night (fucking halogens), had done nothing to ease the sharp ache that wouldn’t quite dissipate.

If she was being honest, the headache had been hanging around much longer than just a few hours, and if Sam’s call hadn’t woken her, the nightmares would have. They always did. She couldn’t really remember what an uninterrupted night of sleep felt like anymore. Exhaustion was her state of existence; it was preferable to feeling anything else.

“Suck it up, Miri,” she muttered into the muffled quiet of the car. Even her GPS was set on silent; the soft hum of the engine was the only noise she allowed to permeate her cocoon of quiet suffering.

Aaron would have been blasting some stupid metal band on the stereo, slapping her hand away every time she went to turn it down or change the station. He wouldn’t offer to drive and let her sleep off any physical maladies, but she wouldn’t have accepted anyway. He was a shit driver, and she always said she’d rather live long enough to let the next case kill her rather than the inevitable wreck if her brother was behind the wheel.

“Suck it up, Miri! Take another pill and quit whining!” he would have told her in the middle of an air drum solo.

Would have.

“Shut up,” Miriam muttered aloud. She drove on.

She pulled up outside something she would have dismissed as public waterworks or an electric station if Sam hadn’t told her what to look for. No cars outside, no mailbox, nothing to tell her this was an actual residence and not the setting for a seventies slaughterhouse flick. She checked her phone.

Text me when you get here; I’ll come let you in.

Alrighty, then.

Sam met her at the door and led her into the last sort of place Miriam could have imagined, a cross between a sci-fi/post-apocalypse novel and some sort of Cold War relic. He gave her the briefest of explanations as he led her through the bunker, saying something about legacies and a secret society, information which mostly passed right through her fatigue-addled head.

Pretty nice home base, she thought as they walked through the meeting room and past the library.

The research-oriented part of her itched to run her fingers over the spines of those books, to find out what was inside. Miriam cringed internally as she heard the echo of Aaron’s voice calling her a nerd, equal parts affection and ridicule in his voice. Then she throttled the pain down, locked the thoughts away, and dragged herself back to the present.

A few minutes later, Miriam was slinging her duffel down on one of the nicest beds she’d been able to claim in any capacity in months, maybe even years. Absolutely spartan and about six decades out of date, almost military in decor, but it was clean, and it had air, electricity, and both sheets and blankets on the bed. No nasty or rotten surprises left by former inhabitants; definitely an upgrade on a few of the shitholes she’d stayed in.

“We’ve got a fully stocked kitchen just down the hallway, and showers. Let me know if you need anything,” Sam said, rubbing the back of his head.

Miriam decided to save him further discomfort and cut to the chase.

“Fancy digs, Sam. It’s been a few years. You wanna tell me what’s got you so bothered?”

She’d noticed a distinct lack of the elder Winchester on the way in, but Miriam’s own recent history had done nothing if not jam a filter firmly in her mouth that kept her from sharing any and all thoughts that flowed through her mind.

Sam’s mouth quivered at the corners before he schooled his features into a mask of control that failed to hide the depth of his worry.

“I...Dean is why I called you. It’s...complicated.”

She took advantage of the awkward pause to re-evaluate Sam Winchester. He’d aged a lot in the few years since she and Aaron had run across the Winchesters. He’d grown broader since she last saw him, and he gave the impression of being even taller than she remembered, to say nothing of the length of his hair. She resisted the urge to offer him a hair tie for his shaggy mane.

Her gaze flicked down to his injured right arm, bound to his chest in a sling. She waited for several beats, but when he didn’t continue, she crossed her arms sternly, letting a shade of her impatience show on her face.

“You called me, Sam.”

Sam cleared his throat as if he still couldn’t get the words out. Miriam sighed. Her headache flared, burning the inside of her skull like a wash of acid between her eyes. Fatigue pulled at her, weighing her down towards the bed, but she locked her knees and straightened her back until she could trust her weary body not to betray her to gravity.

“Sam, we’re not close friends, I get that, but you called me here because I owe you, and hopefully because you know you can count on me. I haven’t been in the field recently, wasn’t planning on it any time soon. I’m tired; it’s been a hell of a year. If you want my help, talk to me. If not, I’m taking advantage of your hospitality to catch a few hours sleep in a decent bed, then I’ll head back out.”

“Dean’s a demon.”

His bald declaration woke her as the coffee she’d consumed after his phone call hadn’t.

Wasn’t expecting that, she thought as her eyebrows threatened to meet her hairline.

“Demons aren’t my area of expertise, Sam. And, let’s be honest, it’s fairly common knowledge that the Winchesters can exorcise a demon. What do you need me for?”

Sam shook his head, tension making the movement jerky and stiff as his jaw tightened. He had circles under his eyes to rival hers, and his shoulders slumped with a weight she knew all too well.

He reached up, awkwardly tugging down the neckline of his shirt to reveal a tattooed symbol she vaguely recalled from research she’d done years ago.

“Neither of us can be possessed,” he said, shrugging his shirt back into place with a wince of discomfort. “Dean is...Look, just come with me; I need to check on him anyway. You'll see.”

Making a physical effort to keep her jaw from hanging slack, Miriam followed Sam from the small bedroom. The whole situation was surreal, and the bland, institutional walls of the bunker only added to Miriam’s sense of dissociation.

She raised a curious eyebrow as Sam led her into what looked like nothing so much as a large file storage room.

Their footsteps echoed strangely; the space felt somehow emptier than the full shelves should have allowed. The ceiling, higher than what seemed necessary, continued much further back than the shelves. And what kind of shelving needed caging to connect it to the ceiling? The metal screen wasn’t what drew her attention, though.

The second she set foot in the room, Miriam felt an inexplicable pull to look behind those shelves, to push past Sam and shove the files out of the way. There was a presence in the room, something that spoke to a place deep inside her that she’d trained herself not to acknowledge, something familiar and forbidden all at once.

For the first time in months, she felt something more than tired, foggy despair.

Whatever was back there, Miriam wanted it.

It took her a second to realize that Sam was speaking.

“Don’t...um...don’t let him get to you, okay? It’s Dean, but it...isn’t,” Sam finished lamely with a grimace.

Miriam tilted her head to the side, considering his words. She opened her mouth, then closed it and shrugged, bracing herself for whatever it was Sam didn’t seem to be able to explain.

His shoulders slumped for a moment as he struggled to pull himself together.

Miriam hadn’t spent much time with the Winchesters, just the couple of weeks they'd worked that witch case all those years ago. Sam and Dean had been so in tune with each other, working the case with instinct and skill on a level that she’d both admired and envied. Then they went and saved her stupid brother.

Sam had been so much younger, then, not exactly sure of himself, but much more solid and in control than the tired, injured man in front of her.

“I owe you, and I mean it,” she’d said back then, shaking first Dean’s and then Sam’s hands, looking each brother in the eyes.

“You need someone to watch your back, to help you take something down, I’ll be there. I wouldn’t normally speak for that asshole,” she nodded at her younger brother, currently sleeping off the leftover ill effects from the hex bag that had nearly taken his life, “but I’ll go ahead and vouch for his dumb ass, too. Call me if you need me. Don’t lose my number.”

She hadn’t heard from them since.

Oh, she had heard plenty of them. What hunter hadn’t? All sorts of misadventures and exploits, taking down creatures most hunters had only ever heard of, much less encountered. But Miriam had gotten no phone calls from them, no requests for help. She figured they'd probably forgotten her and Aaron the moment they’d left town, rock blasting from the speakers of their legendary Impala as they cruised on to the next town, the next case.

“Why now, Sam?” Miriam asked quietly. “After all this time, why call me now?”

There were approximately a thousand more questions she wanted to ask, chiefly what the cage behind those shelves was holding, but she held her tongue after the one. Sam had obviously brought her here for a reason, so she reminded herself to be patient and ready for whatever happened next.

The younger Winchester hung his head for a moment longer, then turned eyes on her that were so familiar, her heart seized in her chest. She saw those same eyes every time she’d looked at her own reflection in the mirror since she’d returned from that last job, with one more scar and one less brother.

“Because I knew you’d understand.”

And then Sam straightened, and she watched as he willed steel through his limbs, stiffening his spine and hardening his features. He pulled on a narrow section of shelving and rolled it out of the way.

“Heya, Sammy.”

...

Chapter 2 is up! 

[yoonjinkooked]

I Miss You | Jungkook

Pairing: Y/N / Jungkook

Genre: Fluff, a bit of angst (mostly pining) and comedy, oneshot

Warnings: (cursing, brief mentions of anal sex (jokingly), banter, oblivious Jungkook, heavy pining on both sides)

Word Count: 3666

Summary: You are in love with your best friend and he doesn’t know it. When the two of you start breaking a long term tradition of yours, feelings become more obvious on both sides. 

A/N: Jimin’s bday gift for JK fucked me up. ‘The Nightmare Before Christmas’ is one of my all-time favorites and today it pushed me back into Blink 182 and “I miss you”. So, I wrote this in like two hours completely inspired by the song, even though I had other stuff to write. I will go do that now. I hope you enjoy this, let me know what you think! 

You could laugh at how stupid this whole thing is.

It is so ridiculous and plainly stupid but it still affects you, more than you would like to admit to anyone.

Since you were 18 and a broke college student, you and a fellow broke college student became friends, bonding over your love of music, movies, TV shows and essentially irrelevant pop culture knowledge. It didn’t take long for you and Jeon Jungkook to have weekly movie nights together, whether at his dorm room or your run down rental apartment.

It also didn’t take long for those weekly movie nights to end up being limited on one movie and one movie alone: The Nightmare Before Christmas.

There was something about that masterpiece that drew you both in, time and time again, never becoming boring. Of course, you needed to make sure of that: a few months down the road, movie nights were still a weekly occurrence but ‘The Nightmare Before Christmas’ nights were monthly.

You obsession went as far as dressing up as Jack and Sally for Halloween – it was a horribly executed costume, tragic even, but the two of you loved it. It was your thing. No one understood it but no one needed to – the two of you have always known.

Adulthood came knocking, graduations came and went, jobs became a daily and not a temporary thing but somehow, you and Jungkook still followed tradition.

Even three months ago, when Jungkook packed up and moved half the world away. Even with seven hours between the two of you, you still spared one day a month for your tradition.

Granted, you barely even watched the movie anymore – you would be too interested in catching up with one another, Skype was a bitch and constantly lagging and the first 15 minutes would always be spent in trying to play the movie at the same time. After yelling at each other and blaming the other one, and of course Skype, you would both just play the movie at your own terms, barely paying attention to it because you could finally look at each other again, even over a computer screen.

You were supposed to be having your movie day/night now. And for the first time in 6 whole years, Jungkook stood you up.

Twice before, movie night was cancelled. Once by you, once by him, very much in advance. And even then, it would simply end up being re-scheduled. Nothing stopped your movie nights, not illnesses, not real-life drama, not a whole ocean between the two of you.

Which is why it is actually painful now, when he did not show up.

He is online – you can see the little green light shining on his Skype name. It’s not yet late night in his time zone – he should be here. Or at the very least, texting you and asking for a last minute re-schedule.

And yet he isn’t. It’s stupid and it’s trivial and who the hell would be hurt with this but it also makes perfect sense because this? This feels like an ended chapter. No, a whole closed book.

Over the years, you and Jungkook always hovered between being the best of friends and maybe, just maybe, something a little bit more.

Frankly speaking, you had a stupid crush on him for several years and never did anything about it, perfectly aware that said crush had ruined every single attempt at a relationship you have ever had. You tried to leave it behind, knowing you would never be able to put your feelings into words, much less actions. You knew your longing for Jungkook would always remain unsaid and you tried to move on. There were men, one night stands, serious relationships, all of it – and none of it worked.

Him moving miles away didn’t have the desired effect either. It was still there, in your heart, annoying you and making it painfully obvious just how strong the stupid crush is.

But this? This situation from today? It finally did what nothing else could do.

It showed you that you and Jungkook will never be.

Seemingly meaningless to someone else, a punch in the gut for you.

  JK: Y/N? You there? [4:24 AM]

JK: Y/N!!!!!!! Come on! I know you’re up! [4:36 AM]

JK: btch, I know you’re up and watching Walking Dead or something [4:39 AM]

JK: Ugh, fine, whatever [4:51 AM]

Y/N: I was sleeping, dumbass [9:08 AM]

Y/N: What do you want [9:08 AM]

JK: Finally! I wanna reschedule our movie night – I couldn’t make it last night, sorry. You wanna do it tonight? [9:14 AM]

Y/N: Can’t do it tonight – have work to do. [9:14 AM]

JK: Tomorrow night? [9:16 AM]

Y/N: Soz, work. [9:16 AM]

JK: Any night in the next two weeks? [9:17 AM]

Y/N: Ask me in a few days, I will know more. [9:22 AM]

  “Thank you so much for taking me out tonight,” you smile at your date, trying to make the awkward first-date goodbye a little less awkward. Hoseok is a kind, charming guy – on paper, he is exactly what you need, what you had hoped to find. Stable in all the right ways and not textbook proper. If you were to let your imagination run wild, Hoseok would be a perfect long term companion – yes, one date was more than enough for you to realize that.

“It was my pleasure,” he smiles brightly at you, a smile that should make your stomach somersault. It doesn’t. As much as you want it to, it doesn’t. “I would very much like to do this again. Are you free on Monday, for example?” he suggests.

“I’ll have to check my schedule,” you avoid giving him a direct answer, despite knowing you have absolutely no plans for Monday night. You don’t want to lead him on but you are not brave enough to say it to his face. “I’ll message you once I know. Thank you so much and have a good sleep,” you tell him, hand already on the car door – you didn’t want to give him a chance to do something more.

“Bye Y/N,” he smiles at you as you close the door, the sound of it making you flinch.

He is perfect but he is not him.

He is not your stupid best friend, the one who eats too much ramen and misses scheduled movie nights and snorts when he laughs and cries during cheesy romcoms and makes you laugh like no one ever has.

He is not the guy you are insanely comfortable with, the guy who had made you shed every single mask you have ever worn and show yourself to him for who you really are. He is not the guy you want, he is not the guy you need.

But unlike Jungkook, he is here.

You cannot string Hoseok along and you cannot let your feelings for Jungkook take over you – it’s over and you know it. You just need to learn how to live with it.

  You are so sure that you’re dreaming, you don’t even bother lifting your head, much less answering your phone when you hear it ringing. Soon enough, it stops and you almost fall right back into your dream before it rings again – and this time too, you don’t even bother because it’s obviously a dream.

The third time it had started to ring, you know you’re not dreaming.

You also know that it’s fucking late and as ‘How I Met Your Mother’ had taught you, nothing good happens after 2AM.

With a sense of dread, you do reach for your phone, not bothering to open your eyes as you try to slide your finger on the right area.

“What?”

“Hey… it’s me,” you recognize his voice instantly.

“Jungkook what the fuck do you want?” you sigh. “It’s almost,” you pause to look at your phone’s clock, nearly blinding yourself in the process, forcing your eyes shut as soon as you saw the exact time. “It’s past 4AM. What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry, I know it’s late,” he apologizes instantly. “But I just wanted to see what you were up to.”

“What I-,” sometimes, like right now, you cannot believe the stupidity Jeon Jungkook can utter. For a genuinely bright and knowledgeable person, there are times when he truly is the biggest dumbass you have encountered in your whole life. “I’m sleeping – what the fuck did you think I’d be doing?”

“Sorry for waking you up,” he mumbles. He doesn’t even have to be in front of you for you to know that he is pouting – right about now, he is looking like a kicked puppy, making you want to hug him and punch him at the same time, because even with an entire ocean between the two of you, he is using his charms in his favor – he knows how fucking whipped you are for his pout, even if you can’t see it.

“Did something happen?” you ask, finally realizing that he must have some reason to call you at this hour.

“Why weren’t you here today for our movie night?” he blurts out.

“Huh? Jungkook, we didn’t plan a movie night today.”

“No, we didn’t but we always have it on a Saturday,” he tells you. “I just assumed after weeks of not having one, we will have one this Saturday.”

“I never confirmed that,” you mumble, suddenly not as sleepy as you were seconds ago.

“I watched it alone,” he admits, his voice sounding oddly sentimental. However, you are still sleepy and could very well be imagining the whole thing. “It felt so weird, to watch it without you. It felt wrong.”

“I watched it alone the last time we had our movie night,” you remind him, hoping that you don’t sound too sour. You are not angry – you’re really not. Yes, you are still a little bit hurt, but not by his actions. You are hurt because those actions made you realize the truth you have been avoiding for years now. “It felt wrong then too. But life goes on.”

“What do you mean life goes on?” he asks.

“Life goes on,” you repeat. “We live in different places now. We have our own obligations. I had a date tonight – last time, you had… whatever it is that you had. We are not those stupid students anymore, Jungkook. Traditions are cool but real life gets in the way.”

“I don’t want life to go on without our tradition,” he uses his kicked puppy voice again.

“Me neither but tough luck.”

“Was the date good?”

“It was,” you answer honestly. You could never lie to Jungkook – not in person, not over text, not over the phone. Keeping things to yourself was a more common practice than you’d like to admit but never have you lied to him. “It was good but there won’t be a second one.”

“That’s very contradictory,” he points out.

“I know,” you sigh. “I guess I just had to admit to myself that he wasn’t what I am looking for.”

“Y/N, do you even know what you are looking for?” he chuckles.

Better than you might think. “I know exactly what I am looking for. Sleep. Goodbye Jungkook.”

“Y/N, wait-“ he tries to stop you.

“We will talk in a few hours. Goodbye!”

You had to end the call before you ended up saying things you will likely end up regretting. They were there, on the tip of your tongue. It would have been so easy to say them, to finally not carry that burden with you. It would have been easy, therapeutic even. But the aftermath? The aftermath would have destroyed you and you knew it.

  You curse when the ringing drags you away from your dream – it was a good dream too. You were eating chicken wings and someone, you can already imagine who, decided to pull you away from it.

Jungkook and you had a timetable of times when it is socially acceptable to call the other one – different time zones made you do it. For four months, both of you were perfectly capable of sticking to it. Except, over the course of last week, Jungkook had decided to blatantly ignore it, several times.

“Jungkook, this is the third time this week you wake me up at the dead of night,” you answer the phone angrily, not even checking the caller ID because you know it’s him. “What do you want?”

“I miss you.”

“You truly could have waited a few more hours to tell me that.”

“Actually, I couldn’t,” he tells you, to which you just roll your eyes. “Y/N, I’m going to need you to not interrupt me now – I have something to say. Are you awake enough to listen?” he checks.

“I am,” you mumble. Yeah, now you are, when the dumbass woke you up.

“I miss you,” he tells you the same thing again, the words not having much of an effect on you because you know he is not missing you in the way you want him to. “It pisses me off that we don’t have our movie nights anymore. It is just so wrong to watch ‘The Nightmare Before Christmas’ without you and it pisses me off that it’s like that – it’s just a stupid movie. I should be able to watch it without thinking about you every damn second.”

You want to reply to that, of course you do, but his earlier request and frankly, your surprise, leave you speechless. You do however sit up, knowing that even if you ended the call this second, you wouldn’t be able to fall asleep for the remainder of the night.

“I know that this is not something I should be doing right now,” he continues. “It’s wrong and if I am going to say it, I should at least say it to your face and not over the phone, at the dead of night. But I just… I can’t keep it in anymore, you know? I miss you. I miss you so fucking much Y/N.”

You want to ask him why, you want to brush it off. After years of keeping your hopes down, you don’t want one misunderstanding to get them up. You know, you just know, he doesn’t miss you like that.

“Ever since I got here, I have kept living with this horrible feeling,” Jungkook admits, swallowing lumps as he speaks. “I know I have made a mistake. I knew it even before I left. I thought it would clear my head, lessen your influence or whatever… and it just didn’t. I am still feeling the same way about you as I did before and now I can’t even see you. I sabotaged myself.”

He is talking about his feelings for you, he said it in those very words and still, you don’t want to believe what you’re hearing, knowing that if you believe it, the eventual truth will leave you broken. Your heart however gives you away – it starts beating faster, excited at what this could mean.

“I miss you, Y/N. And I don’t just miss you as a friend. That’s a given, that will always be true, even if you don’t ever want to see my face after tonight. But I just needed to put it out there before I… exploded. I miss you. I want to be right there, right next to you. Kissing you, holding your hand… doing all sorts of things to you, things that would make you blush and kick me in the shin if I were to voice them. I don’t want to scare and chase you away, I don’t want to lose you as a friend, that’s exactly why I haven’t said this for so long but I just can’t keep it in. Not when you are ditching movie nights and going on dates and living your best life while I am… pining after you. And I don’t blame you – you didn’t know, I made sure of that. But now you do. And whatever your response is, just know that I will always consider you my best friend, whether you let me fuck you into oblivion and hold your hand 24/7 or if you never want to see my sorry ass ever again.”

For the first time in a very long time, your heart and mind are on the same page. One is not trying to hold to hold the other one back or to push it into something that makes no sense. No, your heart and mind are not working together, both perfectly aware and very accepting of that fact that for you, it was always going to be Jungkook.

Whether your feelings are returned or not, whether it never happens or lasts a lifetime, it was always going to be him.

And now, when your mind is finally accepting, and aware of Jungkook’s feelings, you can finally embrace the feeling you have spent years, fucking years, trying to escape.

He likes you. Hell, if he’s anything like you, he is in love with you. ‘Like’ is too weak. You like someone you barely know. When you know the person you like, when you actually know them, the way you and Jungkook know each other, it’s more than just ‘like’.

“Can I talk now?” you ask.

“I kind of want to say no,” Jungkook sheepishly admits. “But I know you have to. So go on, Y/N. Go on and break my heart. For all I know, that may be the exact thing I need.”

“Okay, now I’m going to ask you to shut the fuck up,” you deadpan, not surprised when you hear silence on the other side – Jungkook was never a push around but the truth of the matter is, he knows how scary you can get when you are angry. He doesn’t want to make you angry, not right now. “Seeing as you moved your ass to a different continent and couldn’t wait till the morning to call me, you are obviously blind and completely unaware of the massive crush I’ve had on you for years.”

It’s his turn to be stunned to silence.

Or maybe he’s quiet because you asked him to. Shit.

“I’m done,” you tell him. “Your turn.”

“That’s all you’re gonna say?”

“Are you seriously complaining right now?” you ask in disbelief. “What more do you need? I like you, you dumbass. I have liked you for years! I want you here, next to me, holding my hand and all that shit. And all the things you say you want to do to me, if I were you, I would compile a list of them before coming back home because I’d let you do them all.”

“Y/N, are you-“

“Well, maybe not all. I’m still iffy about the butt stuff.”

“Are you seriously talking about anal while confessing your feelings for me?!”

“I just didn’t want you to get your hopes up for nothing, that’s all,” you admit in a low voice. You know you’re going to end up regretting saying this. Jungkook has a horrible, yet endearing habit of reminding you of all the embarrassing things you have ever said in his presence and mentioning anal sex in the middle of such a heartfelt conversation will definitely make the cut.

“I miss you even more now,” he admits, sighing into the phone. “Do you seriously like me?”

“Yes,” you reassure him. “It’s weird, I know.”

“Hey!”

“It is!” you argue. “You are my best friend. It wasn’t supposed to happen that way.”

“Or maybe it was absolutely supposed to happen that way,” he counters. “Is there a better feeling than falling for your best friend?”

“Hell yeah, it’s a horrible feeling,” you laugh. “It only feels good when you know it’s not one-sided.”

“Okay, you do have a point there,” he chuckles. You find yourself feeling all giddy on the inside, biting your lip and fighting the urge to yell out of pure happiness. It’s actually happening. After years of not being able to keep him out of your heart, you finally don’t have to. Sure, the whole conversation is weird as fuck but it’s also very Jungkook. Very you and Jungkook. If it had happened in any other way, it would not be so characteristically you. “So… now what?”

“You’re the one who moved away – you need to answer that one.”

“Temporarily,” he sighs. “I tell you this every time Y/N, it’s temporary-“

“Yeah, yeah.”

“-because I literally can’t stand being away from you,” he ends with a sigh, making your heart flutter all over again. “I’ll still be here for two months. I’d say… maybe you should go to your living room and play our movie. And we can watch it once a week, sticking to our tradition. And then, when I come back home, I will kiss you silly and make both of us regret being silent for as long as we were.”

“You gonna date me?” you giggle as you get up and head straight for your living room.

“I’m gonna date the shit out of you,” he announces.

“Are you gonna meet my parents?”

“I already know your parents, Y/N,” he laughs and you chuckle too, as you turn on your TV. “But I’ll gladly meet them all over again. We need to discuss how much you’ll be bringing into our marriage, after all.”

“Oh, fuck you!” you laugh.

“Give it two months babe and you will do just that.”

“You are insufferable.”

“And you love it.”

Watching ‘The Nightmare Before Christmas’ was always a special tradition for the two of you, but never more special than now, with him half the world away and on the phone with you, while you banter and ignore the growing feeling in your chest, acting as if this is a completely normal thing to do on a Wednesday at 3AM. Because for the two of you, it kind of is.

[zayneternal]

myg || drabble

prompt ↠ “You want to kiss me, don’t you?”  ↳Yoongi finally comes home from tour. 

genre ↠ FLUFF member ↠ min yoongi warnings ↠ none, my homie. Just kick back. word count ↠ 2.0k

moodboard credit to @outroshooky || requested by anon. enjoy lil meow meow!

~

It’s official. Sitting still is impossible.

You came to that conclusion hours ago after trying everything under the sun to distract your amped thoughts from the prodding impatience and annoying excitement filtering through your body. You put on your favorite film only to realize halfway through that you hadn’t registered one word spoken, the usually familiar plot blotched and broken under your measly attentions. You tried immersing yourself in the newest edition of your novel collection, normally a page turner if you’ve ever seen one, but the intricate character arcs and unique story line left you feeling less than fulfilled. You attempted loosing yourself in a coloring book, taking random, useless (but totally necessary) quizzes on the internet, organizing your side of the closet, and even cleaning the entire apartment before you gave up, resolving to submit to your one track thoughts in their fullness, seeing as how that’s where your mind kept wandering back to anyway.

Your eyes flit, now, between the front door and the small cellphone clutched in your hand as you carefully pace the trail you’ve forged around the scope of the your small home. Feet passing around the couch, past the entry way, down the hall and back, through the kitchen, and repeating, you unlock your phone to reread the last correspondence between Yoongi and yourself.

Tiny Tot: I’m boarding the last plane now. I’ll let you know when I arrive. I love you. 

Tiny Tot: We just landed. I can’t wait to hold you again, jagiya. Just a few more hours now.

You: I love you. Be safe, I’ll see you soon.

That message was sent almost two hours ago, just after you’d returned the cleaning supplies to their proper place under the bathroom sink, and you’ve received no update since. This normally doesn’t bother you as Yoongi has never been much on texting, but the months of solitary anticipation slowly building into this monumental day is making you just a little more antsy than usual. 

You walk your manmade path a few more times, ears trained for the sound of the door, before you sigh, wondering what could be taking him so long. The bright light of the city around you is slowly dimming, the sun beams illuminating your apartment with natural light gently morphing into a soft glow from the neon paint of the buildings below. You move to flip on the lamp lighting, the space around you humming with a peaceful radiance as you’re spurred to try one last distraction. Making your way into the cream coated kitchen, you reroute your attention to one of your favorite therapies: cooking. You try to recall the many lessons Jin had graced you with during his numerous visits to your home, along with the other boys, before they all flew off to perform in places unknown. You’d always gotten along with Jin pleasantly, his old sense of humor and shared love of crafting food two things you easily connected on. 

His words of wisdom begin to float through your head as you yank out various ingredients to prepare something Yoongi has labeled a beloved meal many times before. You begin slicing and dicing, panfrying and sautéing, throwing yourself into the wonderfully encompassing fog of aromas swimming through the air around you. For the first time all day, your distraction tactic seems to be having some progressive effects, subduing your thoughts to almost incoherence, the unrelenting tug of your attention becoming sedated within the world of food.

It’s when the short round of buzzing sharpens against the counter next to you that you’re drawn from your daze, the loud sizzling of the marinated meat in the skillet almost dousing out the competing noise. You jolt, hand stumbling to drop the chopsticks held between your fingers as you reach out to grip the vibrating device. 

Tiny Tot: I was trying to surprise you, but your door was locked -_-.

Tiny Tot: Are you home? I’ve tried knocking.

Tiny Tot: Babe, seriously. Starting to get some weird looks from your neighbors, over here. I look kinda creepy just standing outside your door. Can you pretty please let me in?

Your fingers shake against the hard glass of your phone screen, a stupid smile spreading like butter over your lips as you read the messages. He’s here, and standing just on other side of the door, the annoying opaque of the surface the only thing separating you from the beauty of his presence, real and physical in front of you, finally. No longer do miles of time changes and busy schedules hinder your ability to be next to him, to talk with him, to lay with him, to love him. 

Abandoning your phone upon the counter once more, you scurry towards the door, hopping your momentum to a halt when you realize the food is still frying on the stove. You hustle back, cursing under your breath, and remove the pan from the burn of the eye, speedily double checking the chance of any more kitchen mishaps before pivoting and setting your sights on the golden, brass nob of your front door. 

It feels like running a marathon as you push yourself forward, uncooperative feet stumbling over themselves as you go, hand preemptively outstretched until if finally collides with the doorknob, ecstatically trembling fingers encircling the cold metal and pushing until you hear a soft click! Pulling it recklessly towards you, the wooden obstruction is removed from your vision, replaced instead with the ethereal and dream-like picture of a tousled and travel worn Yoongi standing in the frame, his disheveled appearance still managing to pool the long-missed bubble of heat in your stomach.

“Hi,” he breathes relievedly, his eyes settling on you with wide wonder, as if he’s trying to take the scene before it disappears.

“Hi,” you say back, air pulsing oddly in your lungs, the brunt of your breath held captive in the rise of your chest. 

“So you are home,” he confirms gently, rocking back and forth on his heels. The banter of his voice, taunting you with the tension of it, has you fighting a playful and excited grin at the corners of your twitching lips. You can see his own mouth mirror your squirm. 

“So are you,” you add, your eyes glinting with building suspense. Yoongi smirks, the picture of it like walking the beach on a cool night, refreshing and sweet. “You know, you couldn’t have waited just a little longer to show up? I had dinner on the stove and-”

“Shut up,” Yoongi laughs, surging forward, his bags left to their own devices in the hall as his arms snake around the waist of your happily squealing figure. You laugh unashamedly and uncontrollably as Yoongi’s momentum walks your intwined bodies backwards, his lean and tall frame curling over yours as you wrap your eager arms around the line of his warm neck. Yoongi presses his face into the curve of your shoulder, his lips pecking a fervent greeting into the exposed skin under your lopsided t-shirt as you lean against him, your feet pushed onto tip-toes between the spread stance of his legs. 

“Oh, how I missed you,” he murmurs earnestly against your hair, his hands finding purchase on the hills of your full hips, fingers digging tenderly into your side as if he’s attempting to solidify the reality of you against him. “So beautiful.” 

You can’t contain your joy as your body bounces up and down in reaction to his arrival, the feeling of him in your arms again utterly rapturous. Your face hides itself in the valley of his chest and neck, the cool protrusion of his collarbone brushing your nose. The familiar and warm scent of him invades your senses, a drug to your addicted fervor, inhaling the soft cedar and vanilla of his skin. 

It feels like it’s only been mere seconds, much too short for Yoongi’s liking, when you pull away from his embrace, face emerging to admire his own as his arms remain locked around your waist, tugging your hips against him. Your eyes trail the gentle slopes of his porcelain features, the months of difficult distance making his glowing presence in front of you all the more vivid and detailed. You rake your gaze over the sharp line of his jaw, the expanse of his smooth complexion coating the button-like curve of his nose and pale apples of his cheeks, the pastel pink of his plush lips curled into an attentive smile, and the golden-glinted brown of his deep-set eyes shining down at you. He’s something of another world, a specimen crafted for someone much more deserving than you, but by the grace of God, here he is in your arms, and your arms only. 

"What’re you looking at?” you wonder aloud, watching the way his own eyes are carefully memorizing your face. 

“You,” he answers simply, the quiet ease of his voice sending warm tingles down your spine. His eyebrows scrunch with obviously forced confusion. “Are you wearing chapstick?” 

“You want to kiss me, don’t you?” you ask, unable to contain the teasing amusement of your accusation in your smile, giggling against the sudden change of his expression, feigned wonder melting from his features as something more softly genuine fills its place.

“Is it that obvious?” he asks, eliciting more of the sweet giggles he so adores. Grinning sedately, Yoongi watches the way your face scrunches up, gentle features full of life as you laugh in his arms, the sound so much more satisfying in person than it is over the phone. Involuntarily, but full of want, Yoongi slowly raises a hand from your waist, his soft fingers coming to trail a tingling path along the arch of your neck, palm resting against your cheek as he brushes his thumb under the relaxing squish of your eye.  

Your laughter fades, the air spilling into the sudden silence coated with an intimate warmth as Yoongi stares at you. Bated breath catches in your throat, the look in Yoongi’s eyes melting you into a pool of impatient anticipation as his tongue darts out to wet the pillow of his parted lips. His dark irises flit between your steady gaze and the waiting enticement of your mouth, the slow lean of his head to meet yours like millennia. 

His lips pause over yours for a moment before he runs out of patience, pressing the cushion of his mouth against yours with deeply desiring affection. Your body goes limp at the feeling of his kiss, the absence of this mind-numbing connection for the past months leaving you completely subject to his touch, brain fogging as your entire being becomes slave to Yoongi’s lips. 

The kiss is gentle, tender, satisfied without rough movement to express the sincere longing and love of Yoongi’s presence. He pushes and pulls against the unspoken give and take of your pout, the soft blanket of his mouth unlike any earthly bliss. His tongue carefully swipes along the flesh of your bottom lip, asking for solicitous entry to taste more of you, a request you instantly comply to. He slips past the gate of your mouth, painting lazy stripes of affection against you as his other hand raises to mirror the first, thumbs cooperatively caressing the skin of your cheeks as you mewl into the kiss.

Yoongi’s mouth curls against you, obviously grinning into the affects his lips have on you just before he pulls away, the soft sounds of your parting mouths igniting a heat in your stomach that you force into recession until later, too blissed-out by the gentle touch of Yoongi’s hands to demand more. 

He rests his smooth forehead against yours, eyes studying your satiated and blithe expression with fondness. “So,” he whispers after a long, comfortable moment. “My woman made me dinner?”

Needless to say, his grip on you is broken by the playfully offended swat of your hands, back turning to saunter into the kitchen with a roll of your eyes. 

“What?” Yoongi’s confused voice echoes after you. “I meant it as a compliment.”

[discardedmilkywaywrapperwrites]

Return to TuFort

Activating Halloween Mode was, looking back on it, a very strange and especially stupid idea. The fact that it wasn't even a full moon, and was also the middle of July, did not give TF2 spy player and steam account name "staricipant" a large amount of confidence when the vote was originally brought up a few moments ago. The vote count then jumped to 99 votes in favor, which was about... participant slides to the side as a blast of appropriately named magic rushes right by their head. 99-24, that's seventy five votes more then were on the server. And of course, Merasmus guffawed as he announced the event.

staricipant, firing and hitting a revolver shot on the damned wizard, regrets having decided that it was simply a unique update, a reward several years lacking in the past. Now they knew it was false, of course, and if they made it out alive they'd have to write up the event and post it onto a creepypasta site. Still, the idea that TF2 was being updated again would be the more unbelievable part of the tale. There's a texan yell as an engineer, (staricipant stopped paying attention to team colors about a minute and a half ago), gets transformed into a chicken and his level two sentry transforms into bird feed.

The soldier begins taking a few steps back and the pyro muffles something that staricipant takes to mean "distract the wannabe wizard". staricipant whips out their watch, a trusty strange dead ringer that doesn't seem like such a waste of cash now with their life on the line, and then charges the wizard. Merasmus says something unintelligible, and then a greenish purplish blueish redish yellowish bolt with a few other colors mixed in that comes out to a shade of grey shoots out of his staff. Closing their eyes, staricipant *really* hopes this is less painful then it looks.

---

There is a computer, with no one nearby. The steam menu is up, and although it says that TF2 is currently running, the application is not up. It's quite fortunate no one was around, at least currently. The computer shorts out, the monitor going dark and the keyboard completely unrelated popping off the two 0 keys. The screen flickers back to life, with a new distinction.

A warping effect makes it hard to read, and a monochromatic filter does not help either, but it almost seems as if the steam library has folded in on itself. If you were there, which you aren't, you could squint, and you might be able to make out some mixed names. "Fist Full of Overlords", "Darkest Mania", "Portal to Monkey Island"...

"Return of the Team Fortress" is currently running, the steam menu says, but the application is not up.

---

staricipant wakes up, face down on hard flooring. A glance around solicits a groan from the beleaguered spy main. This wasn't some bizarre dream coming from too much playing of violent video games? No, this was good old RED spawn room, alright. They quickly check their armory, still not understanding now that they've fallen into the spy's shoes how they holster a revolver without a visible holster. The sapper, the knife, the strange dead ringer...

Opening the Spytron 3000 Disguise Kit raises an alarm, however. The cigarettes removed, in their place, a second screen. In fact, the regular screen does not display the options of disguises, but a team roster in their place. Confused, staricipant taps on the new screen. The player-list is all there, all 24 of the poor sods who decided it was a bright idea to play Tufort today. Unless this sort of thing happened on other servers...

Not a good thought. staricipant scans over the player list. Twelve on each side, all of them greyed out, even their own username. Instead of having the pings of each player, there is simply grey text saying "unknown". How strange. staricipant exits the new screen and returns to the old one. It does not seem like they can disguise, but they test it anyway, tapping on the Heavy Weapons Guy. It zooms in on his face, and a piece of text appears next to the icon. "[?], a Red Heavy, [?]". How helpful. What does any of this do or even just mean?

staricipant gives up, closing the disguise kit and pocketing it. Revolver out, although they're not sure how much good it'd do if Merasmus or any of those other beasts came back. The spy opens up the resupply cabinet, pulling out a few small med-kits and pocketing them, and then leaves the spawn room. Sure, it'd be faster to jump down off the balcony, but staricipant wasn't that confident in game mechanics to risk an injury. Better take the stairs, just in case.

It's still a relatively short walk to the bridge between the forts, and staricipant is glad they didn't pick soldier or heavy when this started, seeing how slow the two walk. staricipant's walking speed itself comes to a halt as they stare down at the charred corpse of a scout. They recognize them, of course, they're... staricipant's virtual eyes widen in worry. What happened? No, they're a scout, obviously, but what was their username?

The spy closes their eyes. They remember... well, their life before a madman wizard who may or may not even be real sucked them into the hit FPS, and they remember getting shot by that wizard and waking up here, but... what happened between those points? They knew they checked the list before, and they were here for the fights... where did they even fight Merasmus? This bridge? The intel room, and if so, which one? Was it outdoors or indoors? They never had memory problems before, and certainly none like this. staricipant feels more like a ghost then a real person right now, and they aren't technically wrong.

As they step around the poor scout, their pocket vibrates. staricipant takes a step away, and it stops.  A step back, and it vibrates. staricipant decides not to stick around and continues on into the BLU fortress- the doorways are barricaded. Resupply cabinets and tables block unwanted access. Counterintuitively, this gives staricipant hope. "Bonjour?" An annoyed cough. That's what they get for possessing a frenchman. "Hello? Anyone in there?"

But it's as silent as a ghost town. Only the wind answers, and it's not a very understandable source of information. staricipant looks at their other options. Not being a soldier, or a demo, or even a pyro, there's no way they could get to the balcony from here. The sewers were an option, and not even an unfeasible one. Just... yes, staricipant realized how stupid it was as they berated themselves, they were a bit scared of water over head height. And the TF2 mercs didn't swim as much as spam the spacebar to quickly hop back out of the water. Jumping in was a no go, at least, and since time did not seem to be of the essence, the spy turned to enter the sewers from RED base.

They don't make it very far, though. In fact, they stop almost immediately, glaring down at the corpse of the scout that dares to make their pocket vibrate. Finally, they pull out whatever it is... it's their watch. A lovely gold, and a bronze shimmer floats over it occasionally. It cost about a dollar and ten cents trading refined for it, but it was worth it. staricipant flicks open their watch and this isn't their watch. It... it shows the time, inside. It has an hour hand and a minute hand. staricipant isn't an expert in watches, or even in non-digital clocks, but they'd hazard a guess and say the time is 1:30, although on day and night they would have no idea.

It is still vibrating. The Dead Ringer, as much as staricipant knows, does not normally... ring, let alone vibrate, but what do they know? Maybe this is a common reaction to corpses that the Spy knows of but isn't important to the player. A unique piece of lore, maybe? Something to update the wiki about. Could it stop shaking, though? It's going to fall out of their hands- and it does. staricipant, still getting used to wearing fine gloves, flubs their chance to catch it, and it falls, rattling, onto the dead scout's ankle. The world goes dark, and video game player staricipant gets a killer headache.

---

"Med down! Oh ey, you want some too?" "Try! You idiot, get back here!" "I can take'm oh god oh I am on FIRE help me hel-"

---

staricipant stares, dumbfounded, at the flaming corpse of the scout. The voices in their head seemed so lifelike, and yet everyone in this scene is as motionless as a statue. The scout, falling over, was attempting to flee a pyro down the bridge, as a sniper in the direction the scout was running pulls an arrow out of the quiver for their bow. A spy stands next to the sniper, whiffing a revolver shot on the pyro. staricipant realizes that something is very off.

They can see, but there's no color anymore. They can't even tell which team the scout is on, or the pyro, or the sniper, although they can guess the pyro isn't on this team's side. A glance behind the pyro shows the dead body of a medic, assumedly the cause of this "Med Down" call from the scout. There's no one else around, really. But the entrance to the BLU base is unblocked, now! A sneaky way around a problem, and staricipant didn't even need to get their shoes wet. They proudly march inside, and stare at a black void. They touch it, and it repels them like a trampoline. How helpful.

It also hurts their head, again. Great. They walk back outside, staring up at a white sun. Something vibrates in their pocket, and they check the watch in their hand. Wait, no, that's not it. This time, the disguise kit is to blame. staricipant flips it open, anger slowly creeping under the ski mask. What now? Both screens are empty, but when it's open, that quickly changes. The right-hand screen begins... typing.

[24 names met their fates here, in these fortresses.] [It is your solemn duty to put name to face, and face to fate.] [Accomplish this, and you shall be set free.] [Fail, and remain stuck.] [Good luck.]

"Good luck?" The spy snarls, anger having been replaced by rage. "I get trapped in some bizzaro TF2, and the message is GOOD LUCK?" The disguise kit is slapped closed and shoved violently in their pocket. staricipant sits down suddenly, grumbling. "Oh, isn't this just magnifique. Magnificent, damn it all to hell. Fine, I'll solve a stupid puzzle. Just so I can stop being french."

[projecteve1]

New Post has been published on Project Eve

New Post has been published on http://www.projecteve.com/top-6-web-design-tips-to-enlarge-conversion-of-your-startup-2/

Top 6 Web Design Tips to Enlarge Conversion of Your Startup

When you start a website, you definitely want it to be attractive. But it’s not all just about design. Let’s be honest: what really matters to you is how much your website helps you grow your startup and how much income comes from your website on the Internet. If you think of this, you should be concerned about conversion rate of your website. This is the rule of the thumb that high conversion rate equals high outcomes. So, this is just what you need. What is Conversion Rate? Conversion rate is the percent of the site visitors that take desired action on your website. Let’s say, your website has been visited by 100 people over some period of time. 20 of them bought the product you offer. In this case your conversion rate is 20%. That’s pretty simple. However, conversion rate is not only about sales, it’s also about all the other actions that you want your site guests to take. This will be, for example: form submissions, visits to your physical location, phone calls, newsletter subscription, sign ups and much more. How to Enlarge Startup Website Conversion? Here comes the question: how to optimize a startup website for conversions? Conversion rate optimization requires careful consideration, A/B testing and constant tweaking in search of perfection. You should be the one who knows your clients best and knows what sells and what doesn’t. However, there are some general tips, the effectiveness of which was proven by research and statistics. In this article I jotted down for you top 6 tips to enlarge conversion of your startup. Let’s see what they are! Tips to Enlarge Conversion 1. Make Your CTA Buttons Effective Call to action buttons are, perhaps, the most important website element in terms of conversion. They sell. So, you should give them your careful consideration and care. • Mind the wording: A CTA button should clearly state the action that visitors make when they click it. Moreover, the text of the button should be action-oriented. Best examples fit the formula “action verb” + “offer-related text”, e.g. ‘Try 14-Day Free Trial’, ‘Reserve Your Room’, ‘Download Free E-book’. • Position it right: If you have a page devoted to the offer, place one CTA button in the beginning, right after the introduction, and the second one in the end. Alternatively, place the button above the fold. In this case it will receive the biggest amount of attention. • Color it bright: CTA buttons should contrast with the content. Don’t be afraid to go for bold bright colors: call to action buttons should catch attention and differ from what’s around them. Quick fact: Changing CTA button color from green to red raises conversion by as much as 34%.

Learn more about colors and conversion with this infographics:

2. Go For Responsive Design Around 30% of your website traffic comes from portable devices. And this number keeps growing. So, your site guests should be able to find simple ways to convert into your clients on smartphones and tablets. For instance, if you’ve got an e-store, the shopping experience you offer should be streamlined on mobiles. If you’ve got a company website, your CTA buttons should be large and persuasive on small screens.

3. Forget About Stock Photos It’s okay to use some stock photos on your website. For instance, high quality stock photos will do for your blog posts. However, your site guests are not stupid, and when they see stock photos on the About Us page, they would be appalled. If you want to earn trust of your site guests, go for real photos of you and your team. For this, hire a professional photographer and have some fun making photos. This should be done just once, and, believe me, it’s worth it.

4. Have Short Forms The shorter your forms are, the more likely your clients fill them and interact with you further. I bet that knowing gender, age and other details of everyone who just has a question is not that critical. Go for name and e-mail address, this should suffice. Sound human in the form, be nice and simple. Quick fact: Natural language in forms boosts conversion by 25-40%.

5. Make It Easy To Contact You Providing all the contact information handy makes you one step closer to desired conversion rate. Why? This lets people interact with you and trust you as they just want to be sure that you won’t leave them alone if any troubles with their order or product occur. When it comes to contact details, don’t be afraid to repeat yourself. Outline them in website header, repeat them in footer and provide full information on the ‘Contact Us’ page. Don’t forget about your opening hours.

6. Go for a Modern Design of your Website What do I mean by modern? Your website design should not be cluttered. Go for simplicity and structure. Use visual embellishments with measure. Make sure your conversion-oriented elements stand out. For example, check out conversion-optimized WordPress themes by TemplateMonster. They’ll give you some idea what you should look for.

Conclusions Treat website conversion with care and be ready to test and see what works best for you. I hope that armed with this tips your website will have a running start in terms of conversion.

If you have any questions or comments, don’t hesitate to drop a line in the Comments section.

Take care!