#this SUCKS !!!! why is my post button in the corner like a shitty notification!!!

[mars-ipan]

you gotta be fucking kidding me did they move the POST BUTTON to make room for THIS FUCKING THING

[miss-scientia]

Unrequited Love

Hi all, (everyone who is still here that is!) just a random post by me! Not totally random actually. I was just going through my old documents and I found a FFXV one shot I had completely finished but never posted for some reason. I re-read it and actually quite liked it, so I thought I’d stop by and post it for anyone still around! It’s a bit of slight Noctis angst, I hope you enjoy if you read! 

(Also, I stop by from time to time and see notifications still popping up. You are all still so lovely!)

Prompto x Reader x Noctis (kind of!) SFW This is a long one!

She had confessed her feelings to him at the beginning of their journey, but he’d rejected them to stick to his duty. After a while she moved on and started dating Prom, which is... great! Fantastic really! Then why did he feel so shitty...?

Noctis was sure, he thought to himself as he shuffled around in his sleeping bag, that the six had a pretty sick sense of humour. They had to have, judging by his current predicament. Either that, or he had done something really, really, really bad in a past life to deserve this. 

Gods above it wasn’t fair. 

It wasn’t fair that he was the one chosen to be the king of kings, having his future laid out and already planned for him. It wasn’t fair that he had to marry Luna, an area in life where he ought to have control, yet had none. And it certainly wasn’t fair that the actual girl he was in love with, was with someone else. 

And that someone was his best friend. 

To make matters worse, she had previously admitted feelings for Noctis too, early on in their journey. But he’d had to say no, that he was already betrothed to another, that he couldn’t do that to Luna or his family. A familiar sinking feeling clawed at Noctis’ gut as he recalled that day, the regret of his words churning in his stomach. 

What an idiot. 

How different life could’ve been if he’d only told her how he felt that day. Instead, he had kept his lips sealed and she had moved on. Unfortunately, to a certain blond haired sharp shooter. 

Although he had his back to them, Noctis could hear them both now, whispering to each other in a shared sleeping bag. Did they have to be so... so affectionate? Constantly touching, constantly giggling. It was like they lived to torture him. 

Noctis stifled a groan, the pit in his stomach growing ever deeper. The whispering of the two finally ceased, and Noctis was about to send a silent thanks to the gods, before an odd sound stopped him. 

Are they...? 

A sharp wet sound emanated from behind him, confirming his suspicions. They were making out, completely unaware of the wide awake prince laid only mere inches away from them. 

I must’ve done something absolutely awful in a previous life. 

Before he could prevent it, a perfect picture of the scene behind him had appeared in his mind; her wrapped tightly against Prompto’s body, his arms tight against her, pulling her to his frame. Their lips locked in a heated kiss, eyes communicating their sheer desperation for each other. 

It was like a knife had impaled his stomach. The mental image paired with the the all too real sounds behind him was enough to make him queasy. The thing was though, he couldn’t even find it in himself to be angry at either of them. He had rejected her, and she had ended up with Prom - why shouldn’t they have got together? It was neither of their fault, no. Could he even blame himself however? Was it his own fault, even though he’d been born into this life with all of his future, all of his destiny already set out for him? Was it his fault for following his duty? He wasn’t certain, but he was damn sure that it sucked. 

Curling his fingertips into the soft material of his pillow, Noctis attempted to block out the almost heavenly sighs that fell from her lips. Slowly he drifted off, plagued with thoughts of how if only he had the chance, he could make her sigh like that... 

- 

The ever delicious scent of Ignis’ cooking drifted to your nose as the evening meal was presented to you and your camp mates. Your stomach grumbled in anticipation, desperate for fuel after the exhausting day you’d all had. “I dunno if it’s because I’m ravenous, or if you’ve done an extra special job of it tonight Iggy, but this is the best meal I’ve ever laid my eyes upon!” Your boyfriend Prompto sighed dramatically from beside you, eyes lighting up as he was handed his food. 

“Kid’s right Iggy, this is good stuff.” Gladio nodded, already digging into his larger than average portion. 

“Mmmmph...” came your almost orgasmic sigh of agreement. 

“Well, thank you everyone, but I dare say that I haven’t done anything extra special tonight. Perhaps we were all ready for a meal after our rather busy day.” Ignis modestly brushed aside the compliments, but you could tell he was pleased by the corners of his mouth rising, fighting to hide the beam threatening to reveal itself. 

You were halfway through your food before you realised that Noctis hadn’t said a word since sitting down. Casting your eyes over to the prince, you saw his figure sitting rather slumped over on the floor opposite you. One hand gripped a fork rather loosely as he stabbed the utensil repeatedly into the same carrot, in and out, over and over. His brow line puckered slightly, the hints of a frown forming over his dull looking eyes. It struck you that he sort of looked like... he was sulking. And now you thought about it, he’d been really grumpy all day, unresponsive and quiet. 

Wonder what’s up with him? You thought, glancing once more. Strands of his jet black hair fell into his eyes, causing him to blink those long lashes and sweep his head slightly to clear his vision. 

Your heart stuttered. 

As much as you didn’t want it, he was still able to get you like that. One little move of his head or gesture of his hands, and it shook you again just how pretty he was. 

It truly was hard to forget about your first love. 

Drawing your eyes away you searched for another familiar pair, gaze landing on the ever smiling, ever warm face of your boyfriend and immediately you felt better. As much as Noctis could sometimes catch you off guard, you knew for certain you loved Prompto. There was no doubt there. 

“You okay [Name]?” His kind face and genuine smile had you smiling back instantly. 

“Sure am Prom.” You replied, resting a hand on his knee. Naturally, his hand rested on top of yours, warm and safe. 

“What’s the matter with you prince sulks?” Gladio voiced your earlier question, albeit a little more teasingly. Everyone stopped eating to glance over at the Prince in question. 

Noctis shot Gladio a glare, his eyes clearly saying ‘don’t even start’. 

“Is there something on your mind that you wish to share?” Ignis asked this time, much more accommodatingly. 

“No. Why, does it look like it?” His voice was gruff, annoyed. There was definitely something up. 

“Well, you’ve not really said much since coming back, and you’ve barely touched your food.” You offered. 

“Yeah pal, is there anything we can help with?” Prompto offered his best friend, leaning forward so he could pat his leg. 

Finally Noctis looked up, but as you caught his expression your heart sank. He looked mighty pissed. 

“I said there isn’t anything. Why do you guys have to push me all the time?” 

Prompto blinked, taken aback by his friend’s blunt tone. 

“I just wanted to see if there’s anything I could do to-” 

“Well there isn’t Prompto. There’s nothing that anyone can do, okay?” The prince snapped, rising to his feet. 

Prompto’s face fell, and that was like someone had pressed the anger button on inside you. You were suddenly furious. How could he talk like that to his best friend? 

“What the hell is up with you?” Standing to your feet, you walked over to the sulky prince. 

“Nothing, [Name].” 

“Nothing? So you think you can talk to people like that because... because nothing?” 

Noctis looked at you, fully frowning now, agitation apparent in his ocean blue eyes. 

“Guys, I think we should just cool it...” Prompto’s quiet voice attempted to cut the tension which was now crackling in the air. 

“I agree, Noctis I’m not sure what’s wrong, but we must-” 

“I’d have been fine if people had just left me alone.” Noctis cut over Ignis. 

“Sorry that people care about you.” You retorted, anger still clouding your better judgement. 

“Yeah well, I never asked for people to. I never asked for any of this.” 

“You ungrateful little-” 

“Noctis.” Gladio’s voice stopped you from finishing your sentence. He hadn’t shouted, hadn’t raised his voice, but his deep rumbling tone halted you. “I think you should go and take a walk. Cool down. Come back when you have a better head on, cause this is going no where.” 

“Tch, fine.” Noctis grumbled, but turned on his heel and stalked off into the night, leaving the four of you hurt, annoyed and confused. 

- 

The campsite seemed overly quiet now that the prince was gone, suffocatingly so. Every cough and every shuffle was heard, adding to the already tense atmosphere. 

“I just don’t understand. It’s not like him.” Prompto said for the fifth time. He was anxiously picking at the hem of his shirt, pulling at a loose thread. Every so often you had to lay your hand atop his to remind him to stop before it became threadbare. 

“I know what you mean, I don’t get what’s up with him.” Gladio sighed and stretched. 

“Perhaps his last comment gave us some insight? He said he never asked for any of this. He has never been overly fond on what his future holds in store for him...” Ignis offered a solution in a quiet speculative tone. You almost scoffed however.  

“It still doesn’t give him the right to talk to his best friend like dirt.” Prompto squeezed your hand in silent thanks, but you knew that the blond wasn’t even angry. In fact, you correctly assumed that he was more worried for Noctis’ safety right now. 

Pure person through and through. 

“I do wish we could know where he went.” Ignis sighed, guardian-like instincts kicking in. 

“I’m sure he’ll be fine specs, he’ll come back when he’s ready.” Gladio attempted to appease Ignis, to no avail. 

You had a pretty good idea of where Noctis might have headed to, thinking back to the car journey earlier on that day. The only time when the prince had shown remotely any interest in what was going on around him is when you had driven past a very large lake. It was highly plausible that he’d gone to check it out. The more you thought about it, the more that you were certain this is where he’d have headed. And the more you thought about it, the more you realised you could remember the way there. And the more you thought about that, the more you realised this was a good a chance as any to have a proper conversation with him. And to possibly lecture him on how to actually talk to his best friend. 

I can go there, yank him back here and make him apologise. 

Looking over at Prompto’s anxious face, his top front teeth gently nibbling on his lower lip, you knew this was the right thing to do. You stood up quite forcefully, drawing the attention of the other three boys. 

“[Name]...?” 

“I’m going to go find him, and bring him back. Then I’m going to get him to apologise.” 

Ignis sighed, Gladio nodded, and Prom... 

“Are you sure you want to do that [Name]?” He stammered, looking torn between some inner dilemma. 

“I’m sure. I think I know where to look, but I’ll be fine. I can’t have him talking to you like that Prom. I can’t.” 

“He was just angry, he didn’t mean it.” 

“Well then, he can just say sorry when I drag him back here.” You told Prompto with a reassuring smile. The blond boy finally smiled back, standing up to face you. 

“Thank you [Name]. Be safe.” He told you, and with a quick kiss you set off in search of one sulky prince to bring home. 

- 

Just as you’d expected, Noctis had made his way over to the lake that your group had passed earlier. You could see his silhouette from where you stood; his shadowed figure sat crossed legged on the wooden pier which stretched out into the middle of the lake. The perfect fishing spot, yet he wasn’t fishing. 

Well shit, there’s gotta be something really wrong with him then. 

It hadn’t taken you all too long to get there since you knew which paths to take, however it was still a rather long way away from where your group had pitched the tent. It had been a miracle that no daemons had attacked you, dark as it was out. You wondered how long the prince had been sat there, not fishing, just sitting and watching the lake. 

Taking a deep breath, you walked out from your hiding spot and marched all the way down to the lake, stopping to stand a few feet away from Noctis. He didn’t move upon your arrival, showed no sign that he was even aware of your presence. 

You cleared your throat. 

“Noctis?” 

“[Name]?” Was his reply, quiet but with a hint of sullen sarcasm you knew well. Swallowing the biting response you wanted to give, you instead replied; 

“What are you doing out here?” 

He didn’t answer straight away, still looking down at his hands. In fact, he took so long to answer that you weren’t sure if he’d even heard you. But then finally; 

“It’s peaceful out here. When it’s night like this, lakes always seem that much more... tranquil. Kinda makes me feel like time has stopped, at least in this little area, y’know?” His reply startled you a little, it hadn’t been what you were expecting. And looking around the lake, you could kind of see what he meant. But as lovely as the lake was, you weren’t here to discuss that. You had a purpose in mind for travelling all the way out here, and feeling sorry for the prince wasn’t it. 

“Noctis, I don’t really understand your train of thought right now, but what I do know, is that you snapped at everyone and left your best friend feeling highly confused and rather hurt.” He could probably hear the accusatory edge to your voice. 

Well, good. 

“Look, I didn’t mean to upset anyone. I just hate it when everyone is pushing me.” 

“Yeah, well y’did.” 

“I know that [Name].” He finally turned to look at you, those ocean blues flashing with a hint of frustration. “Don’t think I don’t know that, cause I do. It makes me feel worse than I already do, alright?”

You folded your arms. “Then come back and apologise.”

“Tch, I’m not going back there yet.” He mumbled, his eyes dropping once more. This only annoyed you further.

“So, it makes you feel bad, and yet... you’re not gonna apologise for what you’ve done? Is that it?”

“N-n... that’s not what I said.” The prince suddenly sprang to his feet, his body towering over you. He was getting worked up at your words, the biting remarks nibbling away at his ability to think clearly enough to explain himself coherently.

“You aren’t the only one going through some tough shit, okay?” You snapped, unaware at his inner turmoil.

“Obviously! I never once said- it’s really hard for me to- just stop pushing me, alright?”

“No. If you won’t apologise then we at least get to know what’s got that stick so far up your butt!” You drew yourself up to try and make yourself look taller. There was no way he was worming out of this one, and you could tell he knew. He could sense your determination, his eyes betraying the slightest hint of panic within the frustration.

“[Name], seriously, you-”

“No Noctis! We’re sick of it! We can’t even help you if you don’t explain.”

“You can’t help me.”

“Why not? What is it Noctis?” Your voice was sharp but your eyes were gentle. Underneath all of your annoyance, you really did just want to help your friend.

“[Name], really, you don’t-”

“What is it?”

“I’m telling you, you’re not-”

“What is it?”

“[Name]-!”

“Just tell me what it is!”

“It’s you!”

You paused, the words you were about to say dying in your throat. It was... you? You were the reason he was acting this way? Unease swirled in your stomach.

I’ve been making him feel like this...?

Noctis was almost panting, seeming out of breath from your shouting match. Although he seemed weary, he did not look as if he regretted saying so.

“It’s...me?” You whispered, his answer throwing you completely. Noctis sighed heavily, one hand rising to awkwardly scratch the back of his neck. Suddenly he almost seemed... tired.

“Look... that came out wrong, okay? It’s not... it’s not just you.”

“But I... I’ve done something to hurt you?” The crack in her voice at the end of the sentence physically pained him to hear, made him want to take back everything he’d just said. He’d suffer with it all internally if he never had to hear her sound pained again.

“[Name], it’s not something you’ve done. Please, just let it go.” Noctis pleaded, knowing his efforts would more than likely be futile. Slowly he turned away from her, walking once again to the edge of the wooden beams to sit down, dangling his legs only centimeters above the calm lake. Not looking at her made this easier. Her crumpled expression only further pained his heart, and it was getting hard to quell the need to comfort her as it was.

Gentle padding sounds as she walked to sit next to him told him she wasn’t going to give up that easily. Frustrated, he repressed a groan.

Not. Fucking. Fair.

“Noctis...whatever I’ve done, I want to know. It was never my intention to hurt you.”

Of course it wasn’t, pure soul that she was.

Her quiet tone caused him to sneak a peek at her from the corner of his eye. She was sat close to him, legs dangling, an almost mirror of his pose. All traces of previous anger had been washed from her face, instead, confusion and remorse took its place.

He hated that he was responsible for it.

“Honestly, there really isn’t anything you could have done about it. I’m not sure there’s anything anyone could have done about it. My future has been set since day one, I don’t have a say in this stuff... and I sure as hell don’t have a say in who I fall in love with either.”

A quick intake of breath from his immediate right caused him to realise what he’d just said out loud.

Shit!

His head snapped to look at her fully now. She was turned to him, eyes wide in shock as the realisation of what he’d just admitted sunk in. Quickly he began to try and explain.

“[Name], I-”

“That’s not fucking fair.” Her voice was dull as she cut over him. To his surprise, tears quickly gathered in the corner of her eyes which were rapidly becoming tinted with red. She was... really upset. He had been expecting anger. Not sadness.

“That’s really un-fucking-fair of you Noctis. You know... you know how I felt about you. It took a while to get over that rejection.”

“I’m sorr-”

“You don’t get to say that to me now Noctis! I’m with Prompto, I’ve moved on! I picked myself up and carried on living, you can’t just, just waltz back in and say that. It’s not fair!”

“I know.” He uttered, so softly it was as if he was speaking to himself. It was your turn to be surprised at the sadness of his tone. A few moments of silence passed between the both of you, your eyes trained on the almost black waters beneath you. It was hard to really believe what he’d admitted... he loved you?

Noctis broke the silence first with a soft sigh. Well, if the cat was out of the bag, he may as well try and explain himself.

“I tried so hard to stop it. Y’know? I knew it wasn’t fair, believe me, that’s all I’ve been saying these past few months. Not fair on you, Prom, or me. But, [Name],” He took a deep breath; “you’ve no idea how fucking hard it is when I see you cuddled up to him every night.”

Her eyelids fluttered shut as he spoke, a little pucker forming between her brows as she frowned slightly. There it was again, that look of pain. But he couldn’t stop explaining now he’d started, it would be better to get to the bottom of it.

“It’s not like I resent either of you. Honestly, I was happy for the both of you. But I also felt like absolute shit. Took me a while to realise why, guess I’ve never been one to be clued up about their emotions.”

That earned him a slight snort.

“Yeah, guess that’s no secret either, right?” His words were tinged with regret.

Chancing a glance her way he saw that her eyes were still closed. However, she made no move to stop him explaining, so he continued, eager to finally get it out in the open.

“So when I finally realised how I felt about you... well, the fact that it was far too late sucked. And it just got me thinking, if my life wasn’t so predestined, if I had even a little bit of control over areas of my life where I really should, then we’d be together. We’d be together right now [Name]. No pre-arranged wedding duties. And it’s just been eating at me how little of a choice I get over pretty much everything in my life. Then listening to you and Prom giggling and enjoying each other every night... I just wanted that.”

Finally he petered off, letting the weight of what he’d said hang in the air. It was like the burden had finally been lifted from his shoulders - she knew how he felt. He’d told her, in probably the longest speech he’d ever given in his life, and it just felt good to not have it burning him from the inside.

Although that may all go to shit the next time her and Prom start sucking face again. He almost grimaced at the thought.

The seconds ticked by in what felt like hours, she didn’t breath a word. Shyly Noctis turned to face her again, noticing her eyes were finally open, wide and [e/c], staring right back at him. The whites of her eyes were tinged a deeper red, and fresh tears had collected in her lids. His heart almost broke. He wanted to stop the crying, comfort her, take it all back, anything to stop her tears.

Undecidedly, he lifted his hand, fingers outstretched to rest on her shoulder, but froze in mid air.

“[Name], you don’t know how sorry I am.” He whispered, and she replied with a quiet sob from deep in her throat.

Before he knew what he was doing, the one sound caused him to finally reach out to her, close the distance between them. In no time at all, his strong arms were wrapped around her shoulders, her waist. Her head buried in the crook of his neck, holding her close as she sobbed. His fingers rubbed soothing circles into her back as he held her, noticing with a sick, ironic pleasure that they fit together so well. Like his arms had been made to fit her body exactly.

Could this get any worse? He was comforting her.

But she’s not yours.

They fit together perfectly, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle together at last.

But she’s not yours.

She was all he wanted. But she wasn’t his to have.

Fuck, this sucks.

Noctis wasn’t sure how long he sat there, holding her. Time truly seemed at a stand still; they were lost in this little hidden part of nature. He wasn’t sure when her tears finally stopped, but he could feel her breathing return to normal, her silent sobs no longer racking her chest. Still, he couldn’t let her go. Didn’t dare move for fear of breaking this moment with her, her face gently buried into the side of his neck, wrapped in his embrace. He knew it would never happen again, despite how much he wanted it.

It couldn’t.

“Noctis?” Her voice was soft, thick from the tears she’d shed.

“Yes?” They were almost whispering, but in the tranquil quiet of the night, the sound seemed to echo in his skull.

“I’m in love with Prompto.”

“I know.” His reply was gentle, but the feeling in his heart was anything but. The admission shouldn’t have been a surprise to him, he’d known it for a while. He could tell just by how she looked at him, the pure adoration for Prom in her heart. It still hurt. He wished she’d look at him like that.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He uttered, one hand absentmindedly reaching up to tuck a stray hair back behind her ear.

“It’s me who should be apologising. To everyone back at camp, but mostly to you. It wasn’t fair for me to dump all of my baggage on you like that. I just... felt I had to.”

“No... I’m glad you did.” She had lowered her voice, and it came out slightly mumbled into his shoulder, but it meant the world to him anyway. It felt like she’d accepted what he said, and that was the best he could hope for right now.

“Thank you [Name].” He whispered, his voice trailing off, leaving what he wished he could say hanging in the air between them both.

I love you. 

[uniformbravo]

every iteration of this website is so stupidly broken both desktop & mobile

app:

constantly goes “u h oh blOOp boOP where ht INTErnet go Bye ByewhOOPSie daisy!!1″ even tho every other app has No Problem w/ the internet, i literally have to restart this thing 20 fuckin times a day to get it to load basic ass shit like the fuckign dashboard & search & my notifications & literally every other function there possibly is

search on blogs is garbage & even if u go into an actual tag on a blog it won’t show everything in the tag bc fuck you

the dash randomly teleporting u to a different spot on it after reblogging smth sometimes, usually after u turned off ur phone screen & then went back to it later, even if u didnt leave the app (the same process is a source of the “bloop boop” messages)

the instant messaging thing doesn’t show u new messages sometimes even if u have the same convo open on desktop. in fact it works the other way around too. tumblr in general does NOT like it when u have the same convo open on different devices

sometimes straight up doesn’t give me notifications for conversations & i have to find out i was accidentally ignoring someone hours later when i get on my laptop (if i even decide to use it that day!)

the amount of storage this app sucks up is Annoyingly A Lot. constantly clearing the cache bc it’s usually like 80 fuckin mb

desktop: 

if u use pages instead of infinite scroll on the dash the previous page button straight up does not work & will just take u to the current front page no matter how many pages in u were

hitting the back button on ur browser (or at least on chrome) does the exact same thing, unless you 1. wait for the page ur on to finish loading, 2. scroll down a little bit (just don’t leave it at the top of the page), and then hit the browser’s back arrow, then there’s a better chance it’ll work properly (yeah that’s right it doesn’t even work 100% of the time u just gotta hope & keep going back until it works)

tumblr literally just randomly changing the page url from like “/dashboard/20″ to just “/dashboard” so that both refreshing & clicking the back button just take u to the front page again

related to the last one, if ur like 20 pages deep in ur dash & u leave the tab for too long that ur browser (or again at least in chrome’s case) has to reload the page, when u go back to it it just gives u the current front page bc it changed the url to “/dashboard” & now it thinks this is the front page (if u were back further than like page 2 u can try to fix this by hitting the browser’s back button & hoping for the best)

the fact that u can’t manually go to random pages on ur dash by typing “dashboard/[number]” anymore bc why would we hold onto useless functionality like that. so if ur rly far back in ur dash & u lose the page bc of any of the previously mentioned garbage ur fucked 

(unless u go into ur actual browser history & find the page w/ the correct url like “/dashboard/25″ or if u don’t know the specific number then usually the url w/ the biggest number. u can also kind of estimate by opening the page from ur history & hovering over the top right corner of any post to see what time in ur timezone that particular post was made/reblogged, that way u can find the page w/ the earliest or most accurate to your memory timestamp & assume that’s the right one. i just thought of this method today & i am very pleased with myself but also very annoyed that this website is so shitty i have to find such convoluted workarounds GOD)

search is just straight up garbage. the ONLY thing that mobile has over desktop is that the search actually shows the most recent posts w/o skipping any (any of the posts that actually Made it into search results, that is)

app-less mobile gets an honorable mention bc i don’t use it anymore & haven’t for years but 1. that thing where u try to like a post & it’s like “ohh you don’t have the app?? you fucking loser??? you fucking whiny ass child can’t even use our mobile app???? eat shit” is really annoying and 2. the dash has this header that’s like “open this in the app!” so one time i was like “ok” bc i had the app at that point & it didn’t even take me to the app it just opened up the tumblr download page on app store like fuckin. Ok

anyway theres so much more i could complain about especially on the topic of search but this is so much longer than i meant to go on for anyway so basically. the “this site is barely held together by glue & duct tape” sentiment is NO exaggeration, u couldnt make this shit up, jeez

[codename-bewareofthefangirl]

Hell Mission, IwaOi

DEAAAR @kiviont! Sorry, when people tag me in the comments I don’t receive any notification and I’ve noticed it only know. Anyway, I’ve written this on the train during a no-day, trying to cheer me up. After your comic I was stuck on the story and in the end I couldn’t resist: I wrote this little thing, just to satisfy myself a bit. Now, I’ve corrected it (I hope, since usually my English sucks) and fixed some parts; I don’t know if I should write a sequel or not,  every time I write about IwaOi I feel like I could write about them for hours. I hope you won’t be disappointed by the the setting, explanations or developing. I just love their bantering and immediate pining: those two for me a real soulmates.

Have fun and enjoy!

IwaOi, Spy!Iwaizumi x ProPlayer!Oikawa AU, Inspired by/Sequel of This Post, Humor, Fluff, Oikawa Is Thirsty, Iwaizumi Is Done, Mentions of Akaashi/Bokuto/Kuroo/Sugawara

 Hell Mission

 “Akaashi please send someone else.”

“Iwaizumi-san pl-”

“Akaashi, I’m serious. Send. Someone. Else.”

A sigh from the other end of the transceiver.

“Iwaizumi-san, it’s the first time you’ve asked me something like this in years and I’d love to help you, but, unfortunately, it’s impossible. I can’t send a substitute agent at this time.”

Iwaizumi groaned loudly, hitting the white wall with the palm of the hand.

“Why?” He asked, nearly begged.

Another sigh.

“First, because we’ve already sent to anyone who’s organizing the wedding party your false identity and you can’t suddenly disappear. It could blow our cover.” Akaashi kept speaking in an unexpressive tone, but Iwaizumi could recognize that infamous inflection he used to calm down Bokuto during his childish mood swings and it was irking him, “Second, you’re closed in the restroom. What do you expect me to do?”

Oh, the devil was even smirking right now, Iwaizumi could swear it.

“He’s tried to hit on me. He. Has. Hit. On. Me.” He hissed trying to keep his voice down as someone suddenly entered the luxurious bathroom.

“Yeah, he has good tastes, nothing strange.” Iwaizumi had to bite his tongue to not curse and clenched his fists, waiting for the guest to leave. When he heard the toilet flush and the door closing, he exhaled tiredly.

“Do not make things worse, Akaashi. I’m not supposed to get in touch with him.”

“He’s the one trying to approach you, it would be more strange to blatantly avoid him. Especially when he’s that handsome, and please do not deny it, I have eyes.”

“Yeah, I have them too, thanks. But he’s a freak: he’s followed me after I turned him down and he’s annoyingly persistent. He calls me Hiri-chan and I haven’t even told him my fake name. By the way, I fucking hate it.”

Iwaizumi should have known, from the second his eyes had lingered a second too much on that fake, flamboyant smile, that the mission was going to be hell. “It’s the usual bodyguard stuff!” they have said, “It’s only a week!”, “You’re attending a wedding! You can eat and enjoy yourself as much as you want!” they have repeated while pushing him on a plane to L.A.

Bullshit.

After three hours of following around his never-stopping target, the same guy had had the guts to corner Iwaizumi and shamelessly hit on him.

“It only means the cover is working well,” Akaashi tried to reassure him, not understanding what was bothering his colleague that much, (apart from the name thing, but he found that amusing), “You can’t do nothing about his…cheerful personality.”

“Shitty personality!” Iwaizumi automatically corrected him, “I’ve seen him showing real emotions maybe twice in the entire day…Anyway! That’s not the problem! I wasn’t trying to attract attention, Akaashi. Hell! I tried to keep a low profile!” Iwaizumi said frustrated as he paced back and forth the lucid tile of the toilet. At that point, he hoped someone was going to attack the target for real so that he could vent all that stress out.

“Bokuto let you know that it’s because you’re hot, especially with that shirt, and to not worry about it.” In the background, Iwaizumi could hear the loud agent cackling, probably with Kuroo.

“Tell him I’m going to whoop his ass as soon as I come back.”

He could practically hear Akaashi’ smile.

“I will,” he complied with the usual politeness, “Now, please Iwaizumi-san, leave that restroom and go back to the party. Our target can’t remain without cover too long and you’ve been away for fifteen minutes.”

Iwaizumi sighed, rubbing his temples, but nodded. He knew he hadn’t a choice and, honestly, now that he had calmed a bit, his pride as a secret agent was prodding him to find his mark and do his job as good as he usually did: perfectly. Iwaizumi wasn’t the ace agent of his agency without motive.

“Akaashi?”

“Yes?”

“Keep your eyes open,” Iwaizumi mumbled, “That guy approached me too quickly. It’s strange.”

“Iwaizumi-san, he’s a professional volleyball player, please relax.”

He heard a sudden ruckus and a loud voice pierced his left eardrum.

“GOOD LUCK IWA!” Bokuto screamed excitedly. “EAT A LOT OF GOOD FOOD! THE TARTS LOOK DELICIOUS!”

“Relax Iwa!” Kuroo followed with a lazy chuckle “The poor boy just wants a good bang!”

Iwaizumi felt his vein popping and he angrily hanged up before he could lose his patience and blow his cover by yelling at those dumbasses of his friends.

Gritting his teeth, he straightened the collar of his shirt and checked the guns and knife were hidden in their place. He finally opened the door and cautiously exited from the toilet, surveying his surroundings.

Clear.

He washed his face with cold water and glared at his reflection in the mirror, green eyes ready to murder someone on the spot.

“You can do it,” he whispered to himself, “You’re a professional.”

Iwaizumi took a deep breath and braced himself.

Oikawa Tooru was just a normal, egocentric, pretty guy. Everything was going to be fine.

  Or maybe not.

The next day, Iwaizumi was once again locked in the toilet of the restroom, trying to understand what the hell had gone wrong with his mission.

“How the fuck is possible?! Is he the devil?” he roared, scrolling through the photos he had taken that morning.

“Well, this is…interesting.” Akaashi mused in his ear.

“No, it’s creepy!” Iwaizumi repeated, tapping furiously on his camera. He felt partially infuriated, partially amazed and a tiny bit scared.

“Are you sure it’s not a coincidence?”

“I was taking photos of everyone, strolling casually around. I was far away, using the zoom to locate him. It can’t be a coincidence,” He replied, staring at a pair of sharp chocolate eyes, “It can’t be.”

After the incident of the afternoon before, he had decided to try and avoid direct contact with the target. He had kept Oikawa under surveillance from further away, focusing on chatting with other guests and building a more credible cover. During the night, he had managed to sleep only three hours, as that devil had chosen to stay up watching old volleyball matches and shitty tv series until four; for this reason, at morning he had been less than inclined to interact and had used the excuse of photography both to avoid conversations and keep an eye on Oikawa from afar. He had taken photos of him, probably with the idea of studying him later.

And Iwaizumi could have sworn that every time he had pressed the button and snapped the photo, Oikawa wasn’t looking at him. He shouldn’t have, because Iwaizumi was far away and faking to photograph flowers, other peoples enjoying themselves and other shit like that. Because Iwaizumi was undercover and a plain, normal guy that had never talked before with the amazing Oikawa Tooru. Because Iwaizumi was good at his job and his job meant secrecy and going unnoticed.

And yet, there he was. Looking directly into the lens, a faint grin on the thin lips as he challenged Iwaizumi.

“This bastard is playing around,” he growled tightening his grip around a particularly good photo of the boy, sunrays playing with his chestnut hair as he entertained a group of damsels, surrounded by bushes of roses. But he was gazing at Iwaizumi.

“Iwai-”

“Don’t worry Akaashi, one way or another I’ll win this battle!” He felt his heart drumming, the lips curving into a predatory smile. Oikawa wanted to play? Oh, he was ready. Iwaizumi was going to show him how fucking good he was.

“Iwaizumi-san I don’t think you should let hi-”

“Later. I’m going.” And he cut off the communication, storming out of the bathroom ready to fight.

 Iwaizumi made small conversation with some random guests, just to mix in the group as he strolled around the spacious, shining ballroom. He side-glanced Oikawa, still surrounded by squealing fans; funny thing, Iwaizumi had never seen him talking to the same person more than twice. Did he really know someone there? He didn’t remember reading about Oikawa’s friends, but maybe he had forgotten it and it wouldn’t have been a surprise. The room was full of people he had been forced to memorize faces and identities, all dressed up in elegant dresses and suits, but that he was already forgetting. It was just…too much. A soft music played in the air, the crystal chandeliers gave everything a golden aura. Well, for being on of the most awaited wedding of the year, they were doing a good job.

“Some champagne, sir?” A posh waiter offered him a flute and he gladly accepted.

The problem with this kind of events? There were too many people. Even if you learned the identity of every guest, an unexpected enemy could still sneak in as a waiter or a forgotten relative or…well, pretty much as everyone. And, obviously, Oikawa had to accept the invite to such a grand occasion instead of staying in his small, tidy apartment where his team could watch over him with ease.

Iwaizumi fought to not frown and sipped the champagne.

“At least the food is good…”

“Well, I’m happy you’re enjoying at least that, since you seem to dislike the company.” It took Iwaizumi all the years of training to not jolt. He stiffened and tried to keep his poker face as he turned to greet his sudden interlocutor.

“The fact that I dislike your company it doesn’t mean I dislike everyone else’s,” he replied blankly. Five seconds before, that little shit was at least twenty feet away from him, how had he done it?

Oikawa Tooru, staring down at him with evident mirth, burst in an amused chuckle.

“Oh no, I’m pretty sure you’re bored out of your mind,” Oikawa winked at him, “I’m an incredibly good observer.” His smirk got sharper as he finished the sentence.

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Really? Is it due to your job?” He faked to not know every single detail of Oikawa’s life.

The brunet frowned and then gaped offended, realizing what he meant.

“You don’t know who am I?” He asked incredulous, a ridiculous pout on his lips.

“I even know your favorite brand of milk bread,” Iwaizumi thought, yet he answered with a shrug.

“I just know you’re annoying. And suck at flirting.”

Oikawa was jaw-dropped. Iwaizumi had to mask a grin watching his butt-hurt expression.

“I,” Oikawa stressed it as he scrunched the nose, “am the national volleyball player Oikawa Tooru-”

“Oh right, I’ve seen you. You’re not bad.”

“I’m not bad?-What?-I’m the best!” Oikawa was now outraged, and Iwaizumi couldn’t restrain himself anymore, bursting in a warm laughter.

“Are you making fun of me?” Oikawa asked suspiciously, crossing his arms. Iwaizumi shrugged again, still a faint smirk on his face.

“Maybe?” He took another sip and glanced around, but nothing attracted his attention. Not when his target was chatting with him, not when the most outstanding man in the room was whining like a child by his side.

“And, anyway,” Oikawa continued poking his shoulder, “I don’t suck at flirting.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes.

“You pinned me to a wall, talking about smooth and subtle,” Iwaizumi snorted, giving him a dirty look. Oikawa scoffed and replied with an alluring half-smile.

“I wasn’t trying to be subtle.” Iwaizumi ignored his cheeks heating up and his mind screaming “FUCK HE’S HOT” and remained deadpan.

“Guess it’s not your forte, anyway.”

Oikawa threw up his hands with an exaggerated sigh, “Let’s leave that aside! I mean,” he corrected himself, “it is outrageous and absurd that you don’t appreciate my appeal, yet I’m more disturbed by the fact that this conversation has just destroyed all my hypothesis.”

Even if he still wore that carefree smile, Iwaizumi noted how his eyes had become suddenly serious. He should have left with an excuse, not letting his target drag him into dangerous situation but…there was something captivating, something that pushed Iwaizumi to stay to discover, see more about him. He felt curious. And, damn, challenged and irritated, but that was another factor.

“What hypothesis?” he asked as Oikawa checked him from head to toes.

“Uh? Ah, that you are a tsundere, obsessive fan of mine.” Iwaizumi’s disgusted and horrified expression hurt Oikawa’ pride.

“Do you have this kind of fans?”

“Yeah, from time to time, but you evidently are not one of them.”

“On my dead body,” Iwaizumi assured him gravely. Fuck the mission, he has his pride to protect.

Oikawa nodded, acknowledging his words, and hummed thoughtfully. His long, slender fingers loosened up the knot of the teal tie he was wearing and Iwaizumi’s eyes flickered to the smooth skin of his throat.

“So,” Oikawa mused regaining the other’s attention in a heartbeat, “Why were you photographing me?”

Iwaizumi risked choking. Shit, that dumbass really wasn’t subtle at all.

He stared at his target. The boy was waiting, trying to hide the trepidation behind the sharp, piercing eyes, and everything in his body posture, straight back and arms crossed, signaled that he didn’t have any intention of back up without an answer. Maybe, there was a little of fear or hesitancy in the way he bit the corner of his bottom lip, but Iwaizumi felt sure that wasn’t going to stop Oikawa. He had seen one of his matches: that guy was made to fight, especially battles that seemed impossible.

“How did you know?” He asked instead, taking his time to choose what to do.

Oikawa flashed a peace sign, grinning proudly.

“Setters’ keen senses,” He replied puffing his chest out, “A real setter is able to see everything on the court and to analyze every detail to plan how to move. I told you, I am the best.”

His unwavering self-coincidence struck Iwaizumi. The setter wasn’t joking, he was oozing honesty and pride and, for once, it was genuine and sort of…not annoying? Iwaizumi could tell it wasn’t just boasting, Oikawa knew what he was talking about and seemed to have worked hard for it.

“So?” Oikawa pushed, leaning a bit to get on the same-eye level of his.

Iwaizumi clicked his tongue, irritated by the difference in height, and flickered his forehead. He grabbed the tie of the brunet and pulled him closer.

“Follow me,” he ordered in a gruff whisper and quickly turned on his heels, walking straight to the balcony.

Oikawa, cheeks reddening, stumbled on his feet and rushed behind him. That had been…hot. Shit that man was hot. Hot. Hot. Hot. Oikawa could hear his friend Sugawara laughing at him for being such a clumsy, thirsty teenager.

 Iwaizumi guided them until they were in a secluded area of the garden, inside a childish maze of pruned hedges. The red rays of the dying sun cast strange shadows on the ground, while silly couples chased each other or strolled peacefully while talking in whispers. The man nudged to the brunet to sit on a bench of stone.

Oikawa was literally quivering with curiosity as he bounced his leg up and down while he waited for the answer. He wanted to know why that -hot- stranger was observing, or stalking, him and he really, really hoped it wasn’t because he was a sort of psychopath.

Iwaizumi scanned the area, searching for any sign of threats. When he found none, he finally brought his gaze back on the player.

“Could you stop moving? You’re attracting attention,” he grunted with a dirty look.

Oikawa glared.

“If you answered me, maybe I could,” he coldly replied, yet he did as asked and smoothly relaxed his shoulders. He even wore a fake smile, as a practiced mask.

Iwaizumi snorted at his expression, but didn’t comment.

“Do you remember the middle-blocker from the Kyoto Team you defeated three weeks ago?” he asked instead, stretching a bit to loosen the tension in his muscles.

Oikawa eyes fell on his arms and his throat dried.

“You mean the lousy, whiny middle-blocker that offered me money to let them win?” Oikawa managed to answer, tearing his gaze away and focusing on Iwaizumi’s face. Bad idea, those cheekbones were sharp enough to cut his heart in two.

The raven nodded, hiding a smirk at the disgust in Oikawa’s voice.

“That one,” he confirmed, “He hadn’t lied when he had threatened you, dumbass. He really was from Yakuza.” Iwaizumi revealed it slowly, trying to read every expression passing in Oikawa’s eyes.

Surprise. Shock. Confusion. Understanding.

Fear.

“Yakuza?” he repeated, playing with the hem of his shirt. “I thought he was bluffing...” Even if he was trying to conceal the tremor in his voice, Iwaizumi still noticed it.

“Yeah, he’s one of the younger sons. He didn’t take really well your rejection and…asked his dad to take care of it, to heal his wounded pride. The fact that you whooped his ass during the match didn’t help.”

Oikawa frozen, chocolate eyes blown wide. His entire body tensed and Iwaizumi stilled in response; he had a feeling that if he dared to make the slightest move, the setter was going to flee with all of his energy.

“So?” Oikawa whispered, forcing a blank expression.

Iwaizumi frowned. Fear didn’t suit Oikawa.

“So, they sent me to protect your shitty ass, stop being so fucking scared.”

Oikawa gaped, “You’re here to protect me?” he shrilled loudly and Iwaizumi cursed, slapping a hand over his mouth with a deadly glare.

“I’m trying, but you’re making things difficult Trashkawa!” he growled as he glanced around. Nothing suspicious.

Oikawa nodded and Iwaizumi released him before his mind could focus on the fact that Oikawa’s lips were in fact as soft as they looked and-Fuck.

“Who asked you to protect me?” he whispered excitedly, smiling like a child, “Are you a bodyguard? Have you done this before? Is your name really Hiri Nezumi? Have you already find someone suspicious? Can I help you in any way?” At every question, Oikawa inched closer until he was few breaths away from Iwaizumi’s embarrassed face.

Shit, his lashes were long.

“First,” he slapped his hand on Oikawa’s face and pushed him away, “We were already monitoring that gang and we couldn’t let them kill off a national player, so we took action.”

“I knew you knew who I was!” Oikawa cheered proudly, making him roll his eyes.

“Second,” Iwaizumi continued, “I’m a secret agent, not a full-time bodyguard and-”

“That’s so cool!” the brunet thrilled bouncing on his seat and Iwaizumi felt the need to slap him on the head and hug him at the same time. Oikawa was more of a dork than what he seemed.

“Anyway, my name is not Hiri Nezumi*, my stupid colleagues chose that stupid name for me.”

Oikawa snorted and chirped a “Fitting,” before Iwaizumi shut him with a glare.

“And finally, no I haven’t found anyone suspicious for now and the only way you can help me is behaving and not blowing my cover. Do what you were doing, be normal, forget everything.”

Oikawa pouted, deluded.

“But I can’t forget it now that I know it!” He complained waving his hands around, “I can’t Agent-san! Absolutely impossible.”

Iwaizumi groaned, “Do you want to die? No? Do what I say.”

Oikawa stubbornly shook his head and Iwaizumi felt tempted to stun him and lock him away until the week had passed. He wasn’t bothered about it being illegal, not when Oikawa’s capacity of annoying the shit out of him and still looking cute was illegal as fuck.

“What if I have a better idea?” Oikawa interrupted his dark plans and the raven knew from that sultry tone that he was going to regret everything he had done until that moment.

The brunet leaned again, locking eyes with him. A hopeful, tempting light shined on his perfect face and Iwaizumi would have wanted to stand up and leave, but he could only restrain himself from headbutting him. Or kissing him. He hadn’t decided yet.

“I bet it’s going to be a stupid one,” he deadpanned, but Oikawa didn’t waver.

“Well, you have to keep an eye on me, right?” Iwaizumi nodded slightly and Oikawa’s sharp grin widened, “Then, let me flirt successfully with you, Mr. Secret Agent-san,” he whispered tilting his head to the side, chestnut locks falling on his eyes, “I’ll make sure you’ll never lose sight of me for the rest of the week, night and day. Never.”

Oh, Iwaizumi should have known that mission was going to be hell.

His target was the devil himself.

   *Hirinezumi means Hedgehog (guess who has chosen it ;D)

Next

[musingsinamericanslang]

TL;DR Be Here Now

Envision with me a scenario: 

Joe Blow American 20 something’s alarm goes off on his phone on a Tuesday morning. Rolls over and shuts it off. Notices a couple of garbage emails from job boards came through his Gmail, an “in case you missed it” Twitter notification, a couple of “so and so posted to their stories” Instagram notifications, and an “events around you” Facebook notification. Not to mention the several stories on Snapchat that have been posted from the night prior. Mr. Blow goes through and checks these notifications, scrolls through each application to make sure no relevant/funny/seemingly important pieces of information are missed before getting out of bed. 

35 minutes has elapsed. “Fuck.” 

Hits the shower, throws on a pair of slacks and a nice button down, and heads to work. Along the way, he listens to that new/hilarious/intriguing podcast everyone is talking about. He didn’t download the most recent episode and can’t on the drive because the service sucks on his commute in addition to the battery on his seemingly obsolete iPhone 7 Plus hardly makes it to noon anymore. So he’s stuck listening to an episode of a less popular podcast which won’t be talked about during and after work. Also, he makes sure to tune in to the sports radio station to see if anything pertinent has happened with one of the Big 4 pro sports teams or 5 local collegiate teams in the past 12 hours. 

At work, Mr. Blow spends the morning getting coffee, checking emails that he was CC’d on which are of zero practical relevance to him, sending funny Snapchats to the group he’s in with his undergrad buddies, and now listening to that podcast he couldn’t earlier. 

Lunch is spent with a burrito in one hand while the other hand scrolls through sports Twitter to see what’s been going on in the two hours since he last checked. 

The afternoon drags a bit since he has a burrito baby, but he manages to send off a couple of relevant emails to his three bosses to ensure that they know he did some work today. Makes plans with a couple of friends from work who play in the same Fantasy Football/Baseball/Basketball League to hit the bar after work to check out the game. 

Hits the bar for a few drinks and some laughs with the fellas. Splits a nacho appetizer with the people he’s with. Checks on the fantasy app to make sure his team his playing well. They aren’t so he yells “shit,” and proceeds to hold the screen up to his friends to show them how poorly the fictional team he owns is doing. Looks down at his shoes. They’re scuffed up. “How am I ever going to meet a woman if she knew I wore such shitty ass shoes?” The game ends and it’s about 10, so he heads home. Pops on Netflix to continue watching the newest/popular Netflix series everyone is talking about this week. Plugs in his phone, sets his alarm, passes out. 

And scene. 

While this description is along the lines of things I have seen and personally experienced, I am confident elements of what was shown here ring true in some of your lives, too. If pieces of this seemed to mirror aspects of your life, how did it make you feel to see them in words like this? 

Now, there’s nothing wrong with our hero Mr. Blow, and there’s nothing wrong with a life like this. He’s not doing anything wrong. He’s not living immorally (whatever that really means) or purposely harming others. He’s just living in a world that was crafted for him, one that he likely had no part in consciously creating. We are trained to do and like the things that we’re “supposed” to do and like instead of the things we want to do or want to like. I have talked to many of my friends who are married who feel like having a kid is the next thing they are “supposed to do.” As if the game of Life became real like Jumanji and they are nearing the part where they either get a pink or blue peg person to ride along in the back seat. 

BUT. Here’s the thing:  

In our American society, we have become obsessed with appearing happy, healthy, and successful. Obsessed with status and appearance. Obsessed with likes and retweets. Obsessed with comments. And the great irony of it all is that for as “individualistic” of a culture we think we live in, we are all so worried about being perceived as unpopular or uncool or as a social media social pariah. We want to know that we are both materially successful and well-liked in both the literal and social media sense. And instead of being satisfied and content with the cool things that happen to us along the way, we suffer because we are worried if it aligns with what we’re supposed to be doing or with what we think people think that we ought to be doing. 

AND THEN: 

We scroll through our social media feeds, looking at how happy and successful and cool all of our friends seem. We see our friends getting wives, and dogs, and kids, and promotions, and doing crafty things, and posting these inspirational quotes. And we think, “that person has it together...why can’t I be cool and happy and successful like them? I don’t get nearly as many likes and comments as them...” In our quest to appear happy and at peace, we have become more depressed than ever. What a great tragedy that in a time when our quality of life has never been better thanks to advances in technology and medicine, that our health and happiness in so many ways has never been worse. And all along the way, we are completely missing out on the world and life happening around us because we are addicted to and obsessed with what’s happening on Instagram. 

And I’m not writing this as some person who has transcended this way of thinking and behaving. Because I haven’t and I am still working. I’m simply shedding light on insights I’ve had which have helped alleviate suffering in my own life. 

So what is the point of all of this? It’s to make us think about two things:

First, zoom back. Way way way back. We are floating through some infinitely large space on a infinitesimally small speck in some backwoods corner of a galaxy that we don’t completely understand, and we think if we don’t get married by the time we’ve hit 30 that we’re worthless failures. Or if people notice our cracked iPhone screens that we think they’ll think we’re clumsy and should have bought the insurance. So in this vastness, we suffer over the entirely inconsequential for no other reason than we think we should. Succinctly, so many things we give such high importance to absolutely could not matter less.

Second, and related to point one, on this time on this small speck in the backwoods of the Universe, we spend our days not here. We are in our past, mourning the Might Have Beens. Or, we are in our future, carefully analyzing and reanalyzing all of the Might Be’s. But life isn’t in the past nor is it in the future. It can only be lived now. We can’t change what happened. Nor can we deterministically model even the next 12 hours of our lives. So why spend our time in places where life is not? Life is only now. It’s not in our screens. It’s not in our expectations about people’s possible expectations of us. It’s not in what our parents want us to do. It’s not in what we think society wants us to be as a man or woman. It’s here. Now. That’s it. At the end of our days, we will not be sad we didn’t spend more time anxious about what people thought of us. We will wish we had more time to be present for the people and experiences we loved most. 

I’ve been repeating this over and over lately and for those of you who follow me know that I have been saying it a lot, but all of these words distill down to this:

BE HERE NOW. Be present for your life right now. This is the way to liberation, and true, lasting, sustained peace, love, and happiness. It comes from presence. It’s the only way. 

This isn’t a call for you to live any particular way, except that which brings you the most joy and spreads the most love. This is authenticity. And this is being present. For me, I have spent a lot of time being inauthentic because I thought that person would be more liked, more accepted. And it caused me to not be present, and consequently, I suffered great mental anguish completely unnecessarily. Again, I’m not some realized being, but I have found great peace in practicing and really emphasizing being here. Now.

It is a practice. And that’s the beauty and grace of such things. That we can practice without judgment. If we feel ourselves becoming anxious due to lack of presence, we can be cognizant of it, and even honor it for trying to help us. But return to presence. This inner work is the way. Not a ton of followers, not following your parents’ wishes for your career or spouse or whatever. It’s presence. That’s all that truly exists. Right. Now. 

Namaste.     

[sevenkookiejars]

"We're in an exam study group and I just send you my nudes by accident oops" Minjoon

Pairing: MinJoon (Jimin x Namjoon)Prompt: “We’re in an exam study group and I just send you my nudes by accident oops” AU Rating: PGWord Count: 2,447A/N: *whispers* Minjoon is so precious ^~^ thank you anon for requesting and sorry I took forever with this (I hope you still get to read this)!! (P.S. Jimin’s doing the swearing on my behalf bc I swear that I don’t really swear at all irl – pun unintended) Enjoy!

Jimin’s phone vibrates once in his lap. He ignores it, working on the math problem he has in front of it. It vibrates again, then a series of vibrations start. Jimin curses under his breath, dropping his pen down to pick up his phone instead. 

There’s a flood of kakaotalk messages from Taehyung. 

[4:32PM TaeTae]im bored

chimchim

talk to me :( 

[4:33PM TaeTae] i hate math

save me

chimmm

why you ignoring me

chimmmmmmmmmmmmm

Jimin looks up and shoots a glare at Taehyung who’s sitting diagonally across from him at the table. Taehyung’s face lights up with a triumphant smile. 

[4:35PM Jimin]I’m trying to do my math problems, stop trying to distract me

Jabbing the home button, Jimin picks up his pen and goes back to staring at the same question that he’s been stuck on for nearly 20 minutes. There’s a reason Jimin’s here, stuck in study group past 4pm on a Friday afternoon rather than practicing his dance moves in the studio. 

Whoever deigned it necessary for a music student like him to take math in university should rethink their lives. How the hell is math even remotely needed in his degree? Something about holistic education and well-roundedness or some shitty excuse is what the deans will say but that’s honestly a ton of bullshit. Bullshit that has people like Jimin suffering because his midterms came back with an ugly 30/100 on the top and a “see me” post-it note tagged on the side. Taehyung had the nerve to laugh at him when he barely scraped a 33/100 on his. 

So here they are, stuck in a study group that’s supposed to coach them into passing finals. Jimin’s only here because the fear of having to retake the module and suffer another semester of math is real. 

His phone starts vibrating again. Jimin tsks under his breath, trying his best to ignore it, which is nearly impossible when his phone is basically wiggling its way dangerously close to his crotch. Stupid Taehyung and his non-existent attention span. Resigned, Jimin sighs and picks up his phone again. 

[4:37PM TaeTae]im still bored 

dont be mean chim

stop ignoring em

me*chimmmm lets go for tonkatsu later

i feel like treating myself after this torture

[4:38PM TaeTae]yah i know you can feel your phone 

if you keep ignoring me im gonna tell namjoon hyung you have the biggest crush on him 

i swear 

Jimin sucks in a breath. Dammit why did he ever let it out to Taehyung about Namjoon? He should have known that Taehyung would use it to blackmail him someday. 

Not that intoxicated Jimin had cared a week ago when he, in Taehyung’s words, “wailed for a solid hour about Namjoon hyung’s beautiful gaze and lips and body and everything”. And no, Jimin is still adamant that he couldn’t have been as pathetic as what Taehyung makes him out to be. It’s just a tiny crush okay, Jimin can appreciate good aesthetics and that’s not his fault.

[4:40PM Jimin] You wouldn’t actually do that

[4:40PM TaeTae] you talking to me ~\(≧▽≦)/~

so tonkatsu?? 

and if you ignore me i will 

[4:41PM Jimin] Whatever, Namjoon hyung won’t believe anything you say 

Do your work. I’m going to mute kakaotalk.

Satisfied, Jimin does exactly that. Taehyung can’t disturb him now and he can have the last 20 minutes of study group for math practice. Extra exam preparation questions that he has to hand in on Monday and still has no idea how to do. Jimin suddenly feels the urgency in his bones. 

Inherently, Jimin is someone who hates relying on others for help. It makes him feel somewhat worthless, inadequate in a way that leaves an unsettling feeling swirling in his gut. Which is why he’s debating hard whether or not to actually bring up his questions to their study group mentor now. 

The choice should be pretty obvious, because putting his pride down now is better than taking the walk of shame to the front of his tutorial class to meet the professor. It should be obvious, except that Namjoon is their study group mentor. Yeah, the very Namjoon that Jimin has a tiny crush on. 

Jimin bites his lip. It shouldn’t be a big deal really. Namjoon doesn’t even know he has a crush for god’s sake. Besides, Jimin’s pretty sure at least a fifth of the juniors in school have some sort of a crush on Namjoon. Namjoon who is tall, charming, smart and really nice and helpful to all juniors. Jimin probably needs his fingers and toes (maybe Taehyung’s too) to count the number of times he’s overheard whispered conversation and soft squeals over senior Kim Namjoon. 

But that said, the math problems are still leering at him. Forget about having any choice, Jimin doesn’t want to die of shame on Monday submitting a blank paper. Sighing, Jimin picks up his phone, turning on the camera app to take pictures of the questions he’s been stuck at. 

Namjoon has this system in study group, where they can send him pictures over WhatsApp of the questions they need help with so that he can look over the questions while helping the previous student. It’s somewhat like his own queue system that he’s implemented and it works. And yeah, it’s specifically WhatsApp, not KakaoTalk. Taehyung said and Jimin quotes “that Namjoon hyung is way too English-ified”. As if that really explains why Namjoon prefers an American chat app over a Korean one. 

Jimin opens Whatsapp and opens a fresh chat with Namjoon. His phone vibrates, banner on the top of his screen displaying WhatsApp notifications from none other than Taehyung. The first one reads “you really muted!!!!” and the second announces an attached photo. 

Rolling his eyes, Jimin decides to quickly attach the two photos of questions that he has to ask Namjoon before attending to Taehyung’s messages. He absently clicks the last two photos in his gallery and clicks send. 

Okay, now to entertain Taehyung while he waits for his turn with Namjoon. He’s about to exit the chat with Namjoon when something catches his attention. The first photo sent doesn’t have a plain white background. It’s definitely not his question paper. Jimin blinks, scrolling up so that the whole photo comes into view. 

“Fuck.” The girl sitting beside him shifts her gaze to glare at him but Jimin barely notices. “Fuck no no no, please don’t send. Oh god, please don’t." 

Jimin fumbles with his phone. The two grey ticks appear. Jimin collapses back in his seat with a small whimper. Opposite, Taehyung glances up in mild concern. 

This can’t be real. Maybe it’s just a bad dream, yeah? Maybe he’s getting so exhausted from math that he’s starting to hallucinate. It can’t be real, right? Jimin nearly jumps in his seat when his phone vibrates again in his hands. A banner notification from Taehyung that says ”what’s wrong chim“ and then ”you scaring me“. 

He’s still in the chat with Namjoon. Jimin swallows, throat dry. He blinks hard once, twice. The grey ticks are still there, mocking. Jimin wants to cry.

This is worse than any walk of shame to see his professor. Because right above his picture of his math problem is one of Jimin sitting in a tub, clothes trail on the bathroom floor as he hugs an empty soju bottle. Naked and drunk stupid. And if that isn’t bad enough, it’s most definitely Taehyung’s Snapchat capture because there’s a text banner that Taehyung’s kindly covered his exposed crotch with that reads "AWW LOVERBOY CRYING OVER JOONIE HYUNG”. Jimin doesn’t know if he’s supposed to be thankful for Taehyung salvaging the last bit of his dignity. 

Of course Jimin is that dumbass that never switched off the function on WhatsApp that automatically downloads media into his phone. Taehyung had told him once to switch it because “it downloads useless photos and takes up space”, to which Jimin had shrugged and muttered something about having 256GB to spare. 

And it’s here to bite him in the ass now. Taehyung was probably sending him proof of blackmail material he has of Jimin’s crush on Namjoon, which Jimin knows Taehyung will never actually use to blackmail him. Except he just had to send it before Jimin got about to sending his math questions and obviously Jimin is the idiot who doesn’t check what he’s sending and just clicks the latest pictures. 

The rest is history. History that has Jimin freaking out all over again. Taehyung’s flooding him with messages now, to which Jimin replies with a simple “fuck you” because he can’t take all the blame for his battered pride. 

Jimin’s back in his chat with Namjoon, math now forgotten, and still internally panicking when it happens. The grey ticks turn blue. It’s like everything comes to a standstill and Jimin stops breathing. Namjoon read the messages. Namjoon fucking saw the pictures. 

It’s like a slap of cold water to his face and Jimin sucks in a sharp breath. He needs to get out of here. Screw study group, he’ll ask for a transfer or just stop attending. He can’t face Namjoon, not now, not ever.

With shaking hands, Jimin grabs his bag, haphazardly stuffing his homework and stationery in. 

“Chim,” Taehyung hisses from across the table. Jimin ignores him. He doesn’t have enough focus outside of his panic to actually care. “Jimin, what’s happening?" 

Jimin zips his bag up and stands, setting his eyes on the door. He can feel a few curious stares and from the corner of his eye, he sees Taehyung standing to follow him. 

With his head down, Jimin makes a beeline for the door, making sure to shut it softly behind him so as not to make a scene. Hurrying down the corridor, Jimin feels dread curling like bile in his throat. 

As he rounds the corner, he hears hurried footsteps behind him. It’s probably Taehyung wanting to know what happened. Jimin doesn’t really want to talk about it. The magnitude of the whole situation is catching up with him and all he wants to do is curl up in a corner and drown in self pity. 

The footsteps close in, coming to a halt behind him. "Jimin-ssi." 

It isn’t Taehyung. Jimin’s breath hitches. Namjoon hyung. 

There’s a hand on his shoulder and Jimin turns out of reflex. Their gazes meet and Jimin immediately drops his, shuffling a small step backwards. Namjoon drops his hand to his side. 

The corridor is empty. Jimin’s partly glad that no one’s going to witness his death by shame. He doesn’t dare look up at Namjoon. 

The silence drags a moment too long and Jimin’s unconsciously starting to shift his weight from feet to feet when Namjoon sighs. Wordlessly, he lifts his phone, tilting it for Jimin to look at. 

Jimin chews on his bottom lip hard. Drunk Jimin stares back at him hazy and unabashed. Jimin kind of wants to fling the phone across the hall. He would do it, except it’s Namjoon’s. 

"What’s this?” Namjoon says finally. 

Jimin pulls at the hem of his shirt, scrunching it up and then letting it go. “I… I sort of sent you my nude by accident?” Internally, he winces at his choice of words. “Oops?” He adds, before his brain catches up and goddammit Park Jimin why can’t you play it off like it isn’t a big deal because it really isn’t. 

It shouldn’t be at least.

“Uhm,” Namjoon replies. “Okay.” He lowers the phone slowly. “I… the caption…” Namjoon’s voice trails off.

Jimin closes his eyes. Of course. Why did he expect? Taehyung and his stupid caption. Jimin contemplates lying and pretending that “Joonie hyung” isn’t the one standing right before him. There’s probably a dozen and one people who have the nickname “Joonie”, right? But Jimin is horrible at lying and it always tugs at his conscience. 

He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” Jimin starts. “I mean, I was really going to send you my math questions. But Taehyung wanted to blackmail me and I didn’t turn off that auto download and it just sent and like, I had a crush on you since forever but half the school does too and you can’t blame be for appreciating good aesthetics but I don’t even know if you like girls or guys, I’m sorry I’m-”

Jimin breaks off when he feels fingers beneath his chin. He freezes. 

“You’re rambling,” Namjoon says mildly. He pushes gently, tilting Jimin’s face up, gaze searching. “Crush on me, huh?” Namjoon’s tone is light, teasing almost. He chuckles softly.

Jimin feels his face heat and he bristles. “I’m sorry I’m such a loser who doesn’t know how to ask his brain and heart to shut the fuck up about you,” he snaps. Dammit that came out all wrong. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap-”

“You’re apologizing a whole lot,” Namjoon says, a dimpled smile spreading. “Sorr- I mean…” Jimin wants to facepalm himself. 

Namjoon laughs, the sound of it making Jimin’s stomach flip. “Well,” Namjoon shrugs, “If you’re really sorry about it, you could treat me to coffee now.”

Jimin stares dumbly. Coffee, what?

Namjoon awkwardly rubs the nape of his neck. “I mean, if you’re free that is. I haven’t managed to answer your math questions after all, and study group session’s over.”

Right. The math questions, Jimin almost forgot. “Of course, I’ll buy you coffee, Namjoon-ssi." 

Namjoon scrunches his nose. "Just hyung will do,” he says, and Jimin feels something warm settle in the pit of his stomach. “Or Joonie hyung if you want,” Namjoon adds, shooting him a grin. “I don’t mind.”

“Please don’t remind me,” Jimin groans. “And can you please delete that photo and pretend you never saw it?” Namjoon shakes his head. Jimin feels himself deflate a little. “Why, hyung? Do you want it for blackmail too?”

“No, of course not!” Namjoon feigns an offended look. “What do you take me for? I just can appreciate good aesthetics.” Then before Jimin can register those words and respond, Namjoon places a hand on the small of Jimin’s back to steer him in the direction of the campus exit. “Come on, it’s a date!”

(They end up talking for hours over coffee and forgetting about tutoring. Jimin later insists that circumstances forced him to visit Namjoon’s apartment on a Saturday to do math while having takeouts, which somehow dragged on into movie night and Jimin crashing at Namjoon’s place. 

The rest is history. History that has Jimin calling Namjoon his boyfriend. And no, Taehyung gets zero credit because Jimin’s going to take all of it for himself.)

A/N: Thank you for reading this fic that got pretty long! I’ve never written Minjoon ever so I hope this is at least somewhat good (and cute maybe because it’s supposed to be fluff kinda). Also thank you to those of you who read my previous mini fics (and those who leave comments in your tags, they really make my day!)

Send me a prompt and a bangtan pairing, I’ll write you a short fic ♡

[pinknerdpanda]

Stress Relief

Stress Relief

Characters: Reader x Cas, Sam, Dean

Word Count: 1185

Warnings: Anxiety, Pain, Fluff, slight language

A/N: Not beta’d so...be gentle. :) The pic is not mine

Forever Tags: @wheresthekillswitch @arryn-nyxx @emilywritesaboutdean @fandommaniacx @cookie-dough-lova @spnfanficpond (Pond Tags at the bottom)

*If you would like to be removed from or added to my tags, please let me know.*

Today sucks.

That’s about the only thing you're able to chock it up to. It just...sucks. There is no great big bad reason, just some shitty bits a pieces strewn about. And damned if those little things didn’t add up quickly.

First of all, being stuck at the bunker is not fun. You’d much rather be out on the road with Sam and Dean, stretched across the backseat of Baby in search of God-knows-what is causing these disappearances, than here, laid up with a messed up back, hardly able to move without bitching to yourself, because, ya know, who else is around to listen?

You hate feeling useless and that is what started this whole day on the wrong foot. Sure they’d been sympathetic, offering to run to the store for pain meds or a new heating pad before taking off, but being left behind makes you grumpy.

Then there’s the issue of your anxiety medicine. You've been so distracted the last few weeks, you hadn’t realized how low your prescription bottle was until it was completely empty. That was a week ago, and now here you sit, in pain and without the benefit of a chemical sidekick to keep your mind at ease, all because your insurance had changed their coverage of daily medications.

So long are the days of being able to make the trek into town to pick up a refill. No, now you have to wait until the mail order company gets around to shipping them out. And where exactly were you supposed to have them addressed to, “Y/N, MoL Bunker, Lebanon KS”? Right! You’d opted instead to reserve a box at the Post Office to receive your precious mail. You check your email for a shipment notification coming up empty handed. Again.

The Winchesters have only been gone 3 hours and already you have spoken with them each a few times. Sam called first, apologizing for having brought you the wrong kind of medicine. You’d assured him it was alright. How is he supposed to know that Ibuprofen makes your stomach feel like it is being extricated from your body through your belly button?

Dean called next, asking if you could head to the library to do some research on ghouls, since you were “just hanging out at ‘home’ already.” Normally a comment like that would have rolled right over you, and you’d have been more than willing to oblige. Today is not that day. What comes out instead is some self-pitying “woe is me” garbled nonsense, ending with something along the lines of “Up yours, Winchester.”

Cursing yourself for throwing your phone across the room, you stand gingerly, trying to hold back the tears threatening to pour from your eyes.

“What the hell is wrong with you, y/n?!” You say the words out loud to yourself.

Your phone starts ringing again before you’ve made it halfway across the small space, wincing with every step. Your hand hovers over the device as the loud noise comes to an abrupt end. Your fingers grasp it tightly as a notification pings, indicating a new voicemail. You press play on the message and Dean’s rich voice booms from the tiny speaker.

“Listen, y/n, I’m sorry if I upset you. Sam says it was insensitive for me to…” his voice trails off briefly and you hear a muffled sound in the background. “Yeah, it was insensitive for me to suggest that you had nothing better to do than research the case. I was also wondering, did your medicine come in yet? Maybe that would help.”

A squeal of frustration explodes from your mouth and you stomp your left foot, sending a wave of searing pain right into your lower back, and you nearly double over.

The dam holding back your tears gives way as hot salty streaks stream down your face. You know you are being ridiculous and oversensitive, but you don’t care. In this moment, you allow your emotions to overwhelm you as you sink slowly into a nearby chair.

Of course having your medicine would help, but damn if you don’t want someone else pointing that out to you! Your shoulders shake as violent sobs rip through your chest. It is bad enough that you feel like a crazy person, but now one of your dearest friends on earth, Dean Winchester, thinks you are insane too, or else why would he make such a suggestion? You clench your eyes tight and suck in a deep breath between heaves, the sound obscuring the soft rustle of angel’s wings.

When you are finally able to open your eyes again, a pair of bright blue ones stare straight back at you making you jump, another ripple of pain to coursing through your body.

“Damnit Cas!” You growl at him in a tone much angrier than you’d intended, though he appears totally unfazed by it.

“Y/n.” His voice is low and raspy and there is something extraordinarily soothing about it. “I heard your prayer and came quickly. Where are Sam and Dean?”

“They are working a case. My prayer?” you stare at him, dumbfounded.

“Well, perhaps prayer isn’t the right word, but you were giving off a major distress signal.” His eyes roam your face, his head tipping slightly to one side. “You are hurt.” It is not a question.

The angel reaches out two fingers, touching them gently to the center of your forehead, generating a gentle vibrating warmth that spreads through your whole body. Suddenly the pain in your back is gone and you are able to sit up straight.

“Thank you.” You gaze at Castiel as a fraction of a smile plays at the corner of his lips and he looks away. “So does your angel ju-ju work on anxiety too or just physical ailments?” His eyes meet yours again, but the smile is gone.

“I’m sorry, no. It only works on physical problems.” The sadness in his eyes takes you by surprise.

“That’s ok, Cas. Healing my back was a huge help.” You lean forward, placing your lips gently against his stubbled cheek. “Thanks for hearing my not-prayer.”

Castiel smiles, and stands, offering his hand to help you up. You grasp it, rising to your feet. The feel of his hand in yours makes your belly tickle.

“I can think of some other, more human ways of relieving stress and anxiety.”

You stare at him in shocked, albeit fascinated silence. You open your mouth but shut it quickly, unsure how to respond. Cas’s smile in warm and full of innocence.

“The new season of Sherlock is on Netflix,” he gestures toward the door. “I can go make some popcorn while you get it queued up, if you would like?”

You let out the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, stifling a giggle and nodding.

“That sounds wonderful. Thank you Cas.”

Castiel turns to walk out the door, but stops suddenly, looking back at you over his shoulder.

“Or, we could always call the pizza man.” He throws you a wink before exiting the room.

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