#i'm sorry i'm slooooow

[wintaerbaer]

things we don’t say: part 3 (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slooooow burn, angst, fluff

word count: 9.0k

chapter warnings: kook has literally zero chill (i’m so sorry about him), jimin channels his inner dominic toretto, taehyung is so sweet he’s giving me cavities, discussions of infidelity, swear words, namjoon still gives the best hugs

a/n: thanks for the patience in waiting for this one! for those who may have missed it, i ultimately opted to split this into two chapters, so now we’re looking at seven parts and an epilogue. :)

PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

"I can make you a drink?"

"It's noon."

"So?"

You sigh, slumping on the couch. "I appreciate it, Kook, but I'm just…" You stretch out, pressing your toes into his thigh. "Tired."

The week has gone by in a blur of tears and sleep. You'd taken the rest of the week off, thankful both that you had been carefully banking your PTO in case of an emergency and also for having a manager that prioritizes empathy and mental health. When you'd practically had a breakdown explaining your situation over the phone, she'd quickly granted you the time off—no questions asked—and told you to take care of yourself.

It's been mostly your friends taking care of you, however. After the night you came back from the beach house, you'd been whisked away to the guys' apartment to stay with them, camping out on their pull-out couch, which they’d insisted you could have for as long as you want (Taehyung had pushed you to take his bed, offering to stay in the living room, but you'd begged him not to make you feel worse by displacing him, and he'd eventually acquiesced). Maya and Taehyung had then gone back late the next day to pack you a bag with no Jace encounters.

He'd only texted you once—to provide a weak apology and to let you know he'd clear out of the apartment.

Still, your plan is to stay with the guys for a while; you don't think you could bear to be in your apartment alone right now, especially knowing that Jace has been with someone else in your bed. It's like the image is seared behind your eyelids, tormenting you every time you blink and pushing your mental fortitude to its absolute limit. You haven’t made it a single day without a breakdown, feeling as though you’re constantly trying to walk an emotional tightrope.

Except the tightrope isn’t pulled taut and is also on fire.

That being said, you welcome the distraction of having your friends around. Between Jimin working days, Jungkook working nights, and Taehyung having a flexible schedule with the museum and his photography gigs, someone is always around to spend time with you. Maya’s also taken it upon herself to pop in almost every night with wine, chocolate, or some other variation of breakup food and hang out for a while. You'd feel bad about their attentiveness (you feel sometimes like they're babysitting you), if not for the fact that it's the only thing keeping you remotely sane as you fluctuate between sobs and an overwhelming numbness.

This Sunday afternoon, it's Jungkook's turn to babysit; Taehyung left to run some errands an hour ago, while Jimin slept in late and is currently taking a shower. Jungkook's reclined on the sofa next to you, longs legs stretched out in front of him with his fingers laced behind his head. You'd thrown on a TV movie—some bullshit about a woman who goes through trials of love, only to realize that her perfect man was hidden in plain sight the entire time.

If only life were that fucking easy.

"Do you want an ice cream sundae?" Jungkook suggests as the credits roll. "I can make you an ice cream sundae."

"Are you just suggesting things that make your twelve-year-old brain happy?"

His lower lip pushes out in thought. "No, if I was going to suggest things that cheer me up when I'm sad, I'd offer to go down on you—"

"What the fuck, Kook."

"Which I'm game if you are, but I didn't think you liked me like that."

"Yeah, I think I'll pass."

"Suit yourself."

"Leave her alone, idiot. She's fragile." Jimin steps into the living room from the hall, fully dressed but still towel drying his hair. He takes in your relaxed forms on the couch—you, halfway burrowed under multiple blankets—and frowns. "You're not dressed yet?"

You blink slowly at him. "Should I be?"

"Yeah, Kook and I are taking you somewhere." He looks over at the man sitting beside you. "You didn't tell her?"

Jungkook's mouth stretches into a wide grin. "Surprise!"

You're still processing what the hell is happening—your plans for today were to park yourself in this spot and not leave—when Jimin strides over and yanks the blankets off of your body.

"Chim!"

"C'mon, get dressed. We have an appointment," he says. "And wear something comfortable. You're gonna love it, I promise."

A half hour later and you’re sitting in the back of Jungkook’s black Mercedes, watching the city pass by outside your window. Now that you’re up, it does feel nice to be out of the apartment instead of wallowing inside on the couch with a tissue box in your lap (which had been the general trend of the past week). Even listening to Jungkook and Jimin bickering about navigation up front helps to distract you from the dread that lingers like a blanket draped over your shoulders. All-in-all, you feel like you’re managing the fallout of your relationship as best as one can—at least when they find their almost-fiancé in bed with another woman. But grieving the loss still means that you’ve barely eaten, barely slept, and it’s not long before you’re dozing off in the backseat, dreaming of college—of sandy brown hair and green eyes.

You wake to Jimin’s hand on your shoulder gently shaking you out of your nap.

“Hey, we’re here.”

You’re on the outskirts of the city, it seems, in front of a squat, gray building that looks almost like a tiny warehouse. Peering up at the neon sign, you read, “Smash City Rage Room?”

“Cool, right?” Jungkook says, leaning against the side of the car.

You can physically feel the lines stretching across your forehead. “I don’t get it. We’re going to…?”

“Break stuff!” He takes your hand to pull you along. “Let’s go!”

You're led into a small, unassuming lobby—flat gray like the outside. Jimin gets you checked in with a burly-looking man behind a desk, who (after you’ve all signed some suspicious-looking release forms) promptly brings the three of you to a back room where you're fitted with protective jumpsuits, helmets, and goggles and instructed to "choose a weapon" from a rack filled with baseball bats and sledgehammers. At this point, Jungkook is practically bouncing out of his skin, the absolute picture of a golden retriever waiting for a ball to be thrown.

"You guys are really trying to distract me by taking me to Kook's version of Disneyland, huh?"

"That depends, is it working?" he says, grasping one of the hammers and weighing it in his hands.

"I'm skeptical but open-minded."

"Perfect!"

He hands you a bat, and your brawny host leads you to your final room—a wide, concrete space with a sturdy table in the middle and piles and piles of objects. Wine glasses, dinner plates, a computer monitor, and even a flat screen TV sit in heaps along the walls amongst some broken shards from previous visitors.

"You're free to smash anything in the room," the muscle man says in a gruff voice, "just no intentional damage to the building's structure. If you need something, you can flag us down through the camera up there," he points to the device in one of the ceiling's corners, "and someone will come check on you. Otherwise, just be safe and have fun. We'll come get you after an hour." Then he's swinging the door shut behind him.

You look blankly at the two men in front of you. "Now what?"

"We smash!" Jungkook says happily, already dragging the flat-screen onto the table. Then, before you can even respond: "Not like that, Y/N. Get your mind out of the gutter." He swings the sledgehammer down onto the TV screen, and it caves in on itself as Jungkook giggles maniacally.

"We thought this might help to let off steam," Jimin says, cracking a smile as he slams his bat into a propped up picture frame. "Try it!"

The two of them watch with wide, expectant eyes as you gingerly pick up a small drinking glass and place it delicately on the table.

"So now I just…?" You halfway lift the baseball bat, peering down at the poor, unassuming glass in front of you.

Jungkook leans forward, eyes eager, gesturing with the hammer in a light swinging motion he's clearly wanting you to mimic.

So you swing, bringing the bat down onto the lip of the glass with a moderate amount of force. It shatters, pieces flying outwards like little slivers of shrapnel.

It feels good.

The guys cheer, and Jimin reaches down to grab a champagne glass, setting it in front of you.

"Now pretend this one is that asshole's balls."

You hesitate, the mention of Jace causing the fist that's been around your heart to squeeze. You're angry with him, sure, fury simmering in your belly even now. But your biggest struggle and the source of all of your pain this week has been wrangling with your lingering feelings. Four years of loving someone are not so easily erased.

But you wish you could wipe it all from your mind.

You wish you could hate him.

"Let it out," Jimin murmurs, as you continue to stare, your hands gripping the bat. "This is the place."

You visualize Jace's face in your mind. His bright green eyes, his crooked smile, the tiny scar on his forehead from when he fell off his bike when he was nine. You can practically hear his voice whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

And then you see him in bed a week ago, his lips pressed to another woman's neck.

The champagne glass explodes like a small bomb into a million tiny crystals.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Jungkook yells, and it’s then that you realize that you were the one who swung the bat.

Your body is a live wire, pumping with adrenaline and a newfound rage. Before you know it, you don’t even have the patience to pick up the objects and place them on the table. Instead, you’re spinning around in a whirlwind, destroying plates and glasses and small kitchen appliances indiscriminately.

“This is for all of the lies about late nights!”

BOOM.

“This is for the fact that I’ve barely been able to breathe this past week!”

CRASH.

“This is for that dumb-ass crooked smile like he thinks he’s the star of some shitty movie!”

WHAM.

“And this is for that stupid, fucking green jacket.”

You channel all of your anger through the bat—every tear, every minute of lost sleep turned into shards of glass and debris. The tears come at some point, but you barely feel them as you scream out your frustrations, Jimin and Jungkook cheering you on the whole time.

It’s not a magical cure-all by any means, but you do feel a tiny bit of relief ease itself into your shoulders.

An hour later, you embrace both men in the parking lot. “Thank you,” you say, “for everything you guys have been doing for me. I needed this.”

Jimin shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Hey, I owed you for that time when I got passed over for promotion, and you brought me to Bar 613 and paid for all my drinks.”

“I just wanted to smash stuff,” Jungkook teases with a grin, but he rubs playfully at your upper back to let you know he’s kidding.

Jimin’s phone chirps with a notification, and he pulls it out of his pocket, squinting at the screen before muttering, “Hmm, Tae’s not ready yet.”

“Ready for what?” you ask, a feeling creeping in that your day of surprise distractions isn’t quite over.

“You’ll see soon enough.” Jimin’s knowing smile twinkles with mischief. “In the meantime, what do you say we get some ice cream?”

“What do you mean you’re not coming?”

You’d returned from your rage room and ice cream outing only for Jungkook to swing his car into the “No Parking” zone outside the apartment and promptly kick you out to the curb, a pair of impish smiles flashing at you from the front seats.

“We have strict instructions to stay clear of the apartment for the next several hours,” Jimin chimes. “So we’re going to entertain ourselves for a while.”

You narrow your eyes at them, knowing they’re not going to spill but making a feeble attempt anyway. “What did he do?”

“Go find out!” Jimin says, just as Jungkook shouts, “Bye!” and rolls up the window right in your face.

You enter the building with a sigh, swinging the plastic bag from your wrist that holds the takeout container of rocky road that you’d gotten for Taehyung. A part of you wants to be whiny about your friends making such a fuss for you, working so hard to cheer you up, but at the end of the day, you just feel loved. Tomorrow, you may wake up with a hollow chest, your heart scraped out in the middle of the night as it has been for every day the past week, but for now, you let a little flame of happiness warm your insides.

You do hope, though, that Taehyung didn’t go through too much trouble for whatever he has planned for tonight. He’s already spent a majority of the past week hovering, holding you when you cry, and otherwise keeping a close watch on your moods. And in spite of him trying to be subtle, you’ve noticed how he doesn’t close his bedroom door all the way at night so he can listen for you.

He’s a great friend, the best, but the fact that you care about him, too, means that you don’t necessarily want to burden him, don’t want to be the source of his worry.

It sucks that you’re doing a shit job of it.

Probably just a movie night, you think during the elevator ride up. Like we’d do in college.

But when you slip the key into the lock and slide the door open, your heart immediately leaps into your throat, the bag of ice cream almost slipping from your fingers.

The apartment has been positively upended, furniture rearranged, flipped, stacked, and draped with blankets to create a massive pillow fort in the middle of the living room. It has to be almost eight feet tall, and you wonder what the rest of the rooms look like as you spy all three of the guys’ desk chairs incorporated into the structure—clearly, the entire apartment was raided to create this behemoth. Around the dining room and kitchen, dozens of candles have been placed and lit to give the open space an ambient glow, accentuated by the lowering sun dipping down outside the massive windows.

When the door swings itself to latch shut with a soft click, there’s a rustling sound before Taehyung’s head pops out of the fort, and he beams as he comes to stand in front of you.

“What do you think?” he hums as you continue to stare incredulously at the scene behind him. You try to say something, you should say something, but tears begin to flow over your cheeks instead, causing the room to blur and Taehyung to pull you into a hug. “Okay, I have to admit this is the opposite of what I was going for.”

You press a watery chuckle into his chest. “This is incredible,” you gasp, shifting back to look at him.

“I’m glad you think so,” he says. “And that’s not even all. Come look.”

He guides you to the kitchen, where you now notice the counters are littered with all of your favorite comfort foods alongside the snacks you used to share growing up: sugar cookies and popcorn, potato chips and pretzels, brownies and bite-sized chocolates.

“Just like old times. And—“ He lifts the lid off a pot on the stove, and you’re quickly enveloped in the soothing scent of tomatoes and basil. “Spaghetti for dinner.”

It was the first meal you ever made together. In retrospect, the lumpy, acidic sauce you concocted in your parents’ kitchen that day was far from perfect. But at the time, you’d called it the best meal you’d ever eaten, and Taehyung has spent the subsequent years perfecting his own recipe. He doesn’t make it often, but when he does, it’s the perfect blend of nostalgia and warmth.

“And to think, all I brought you was this,” you say sadly, dangling the bag limply from your hand. But Taehyung snatches it from you in a flash, digging in like it’s a Christmas present. When he pulls out the papery white container, he grins like it’s much more than just half-melted ice cream.

“Rocky road?” he asks, smiling even more widely when you nod. “This is amazing, Y/N. Thank you.”

You study him quietly as he puts the ice cream away in the freezer—just to soak in this beautiful, home-shaped human being—and he raises his eyebrows at you when he turns back around.

“What?” he asks, the corners of his mouth twitching like he’s trying to hide yet another smile.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as you glance away. “Nothing.”

But the truth is, standing here in his kitchen, observing his tender movements as he carefully rearranges the snacks on the counter top—it’s the first time in a week that you’ve been able to breathe. And maybe it’s just because it’s been days of suffocating pressure around your chest, but the air pushing through your lungs now feels sweeter, richer as he looks up to capture your gaze again and gently takes your hand in his.

“Come see the inside.”

He pulls you to the mass of furniture and blankets, sweeping back an opening in the fabric to usher you in, and you gasp as he reveals the pillow fort of your childhood dreams.

It’s massive, tall enough for you to stand comfortably in, with wide walls and a tented ceiling that seems to suggest Taehyung has somehow tethered it to the apartment’s actual ceiling. The floor is absolutely packed with pillows, cushions, and heaps of additional blankets, and if you aren’t mistaken, there’s a literal mattress (maybe two?) buried underneath it all.

But the part that has your throat constricting on a sob, tears streaming once again, is the tiny side table he’s placed to the side, your star lamp glowing on top.

“How did—“ you choke, still taking it all in. The fort, the snacks, the lamp. “How did you—?”

“Found the lamp in your closet when we went to get you that bag of clothes.”

“And,” you wave a weak hand at the scene around you, “all of this?”

“Chugged a couple energy drinks,” he chuckles. “And Maya came by for a bit earlier to lend a hand.”

“Tae,” you say, wiping at your cheeks.

“Y/N.”

“This is…” Beautiful. Magical. Extraordinary. No single word seems adequate enough to describe what you’re feeling, his recreation of your childhood tradition to the nth degree tipping you into a state of practical euphoria after the hell of a week you’ve just had. You’d swear you feel like you’re about to combust with the amount of relief that’s flooding through your body in this moment, anger and grief giving way to joy and an overwhelming sense of fondness for the man in front of you.

You never complete your sentence, but Taehyung still seems to grasp your meaning, reaching out to squeeze your fingers one last time in a gesture of acknowledgment and understanding before he simply says, “Let’s eat.”

The two of you gather yourselves heaping bowls of pasta before burrowing into your pillow fortress, backs pressed up against the couch, which is being used to support one side of it.

“How was the rage room?” Taehyung asks, tomato sauce staining his lips.

“Surprisingly cathartic. But…”

“But?”

You rub at your temple before letting your hand fall in a huff. “Temporary. It all is. Every time I think I’m getting a moment to catch my breath, I feel like I’m being punched in the chest a second later.”

“It’s only been a week,” he says. “You’re grieving. It’s going to take time.”

“I don’t want it to though,” you snap, immediately regretting your tone, even though Taehyung looks unfazed. “I just want to turn it off. He did this terrible thing, and I should hate him for it. I want to hate him for it.”

“But you don’t,” Taehyung says, jaw clenching.

Throat swelling, you choke on the words as they find their way out. “I thought I was going to marry him.” The all-too-familiar pressure in your chest rears its head again, suffocating you from the inside. “We had all these plans.” Your breaths turn shallow, coming out in short, rough pants quickly joined by tears that Taehyung rushes to wipe away.

You’ve never known love could hurt like this until now, and for all intents and purposes, Jace was your first real love. You’d had a smattering of boyfriends in high school, but never anything long term until him—nothing that ever made your heart feel like it was going through a shredder, a blender, and a hurricane all at once when it ended. And it’s not just your idea of him or your relationship that you’re mourning, but also the future that you thought you’d have together. The dreams you had dared to dream when you’d traded ideas of rings and children and white picket fences while tangled together in bed.

Sensing an imminent panic attack, Taehyung pulls you into his lap and loops his arms around you, coasting his hands up and down your back in long strokes. He’s done this every time you’ve broken down around him over the past several days, the physical sensation giving you something else to focus on when the thoughts and memories of your now-ex come flooding through the mental barriers you’ve been trying and failing to construct.

You concentrate instead on the ministrations of Taehyung’s hands, the warmth of his large palms resting over your shirt, the glide of his fingers tracing your spine over and over. His fingertips trail up to your neck (inhale) and back down to your sacrum (exhale) on a loop as you clutch the soft fabric of his own shirt. And as the dread looming under your skin begins to ebb away, you notice how your breathing has synced up, pressed chest to chest like you’re two halves of one whole. It’s calming, the light press of his ribcage expanding against yours, and it serves as enough of a distraction to get yourself under control, your feelings stuffed back into their box for the time being.

When you lean back to look at him, his dark brown eyes map your face, steady as ever.

“Better?”

“Better.” You nod weakly. “But life would still be so much easier if love worked like a switch.”

His brow tilts downward a fraction, a touch of melancholy passing over his face. “If only.”

“That makes me an idiot though, right?” you ask. “To still feel for him even after that.”

“No, it makes you human,” Taehyung says, before his expression suddenly turns grave. “Has he contacted you?”

You sniffle, rubbing at your nose. “Nothing besides that one text saying he would clear out of the apartment.”

“Good,” he murmurs. “Listen, I think everything you’re feeling is normal, and you shouldn’t put any pressure on yourself to process it any particular way.” A pink tongue swipes over his bottom lip. “But please, Y/N. Please promise me you’ll never take him back if he asks.”

Truth be told, the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind until now—imagining a teary Jace on your doorstep, begging you to give him just one more chance. In spite of your lingering feelings for him, the image only stirs up a dull rage, disgust burning like acid in your stomach.

“Not a chance,” you say, twining your pinky around his for a brief moment, and he visibly relaxes, leaning back against the couch. “I don’t think I ever want to see him again. But it…it hurts.”

You struggle to pull in a breath that doesn’t want to come, chin dipping down to your chest before Taehyung begins to move. Long fingers reach out to squeeze your hips before nimbly dancing down to your ankles bracketing his legs, where they give you another squeeze. He works his way up your body from there, moving his hands to your knees. Squeeze. Your ribs. Squeeze. Your shoulders. Squeeze. Elbows. Squeeze. Wrists. Squeeze.

He’s pinching each joint of your fingers between the pads of his own when you finally ask, “Tae? What are you doing?”

He doesn’t even look up, zoned in on his task. “Putting you back together.”

“Is that how it works?”

“Yeah, Hobi and Joon have been giving me lessons.”

You snort, and it appears to be the reaction he was hoping for because he beams up at you as you keen forward with laughter until you’re practically sharing breath, faces mere inches apart.

Time freezes; something in the universe shifts.

Your eyes wander over his face, tracing the paths between details that you subconsciously know are there but which you’re not sure you’ve ever truly looked at: the deep brown of his eyes, the mole on the tip of his nose, the plush curve of his lower lip.

He’s beautiful. It’s something you’ve always been aware of—an obvious fact of life in the same way the sky is blue—but you’re also lucky enough to know that his beauty goes beyond a handsome face. It’s also in the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs with his whole body, the way he always carries crackers in his bag for photo shoots at the park so he can toss some to the ducks.

The way he’ll upend his entire apartment to help heal your broken heart.

Artificial stars dance around the fabric walls like fireflies as you become hyperaware of how his hands have drifted back to your hips, barely there but warm. It’s soothing, you think, to be held between the boundaries of his palms, as if nothing and no one can touch you here. But it’s always been that way, hasn’t it? He’s always been your primary source of comfort, your north star at every turn, propping you up within the safety of your own little world like he does now.

His warmth is a siren’s song that has you shifting closer, your hands sliding from his chest to his shoulders, when his grip on your hips suddenly tightens as he breathes out your name.

“Mmm?”

“We have snacks to get to.”

The bubble pops as Taehyung shifts you off his lap, darting away to the kitchen. You, however, stay firmly rooted to your spot in the blanket fort; your mind whirs, an unfamiliar tingling sensation gently working its way through your nerve endings and making your stomach dip. It’s not at all unpleasant, but you don’t know what to make of it, thoughts turning without reaching any kind of foregone conclusion until Taehyung ducks back under the blanket and into your space, arms overflowing with snack bags.

He smiles at you and your stomach dips again.

But your mind quiets.

He’s your person, you think. Undoubtedly now more than ever as he settles back down next to you like the rock he’s always been.

“Story time?” he murmurs, the light passing across his face as he hands you a bag of your favorite chips. You gently place it in your lap without opening it, still jittery from the way he held you only seconds ago. Watching you with hooded eyes, he frowns at your lack of movement, the way your fingers have stilled on the plastic. “Something wrong?”

“No,” you say, sitting up straighter so he doesn’t feel like you’re ignoring him. “Wouldn’t be a blanket fort without a story, right?”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say the light on the walls is now radiating from Taehyung himself as he launches into a clearly premeditated narrative about a princess and her devoted, best friend of a knight. After being betrayed by a prince from a neighboring realm, the two embark on an epic journey to restore their own kingdom, traversing mountains and crossing oceans together to retrieve the enchanted crown jewel that the thieving prince had stolen away. Another handsome and charming prince captures the princess’s heart during their adventure, and, once her power is restored, the two marry in the most beautiful and romantic ceremony the kingdom has ever seen.

“And they live happily ever after,” Taehyung says with a flourish. He reaches over to steal a handful of potato chips before slipping a hand behind his head and settling deeper into the mattress. You frown down at him.

“But what about the knight?”

He slides a potato chip between his lips, lifting a dark eyebrow in confusion. “What about him?”

“Where’s his happily ever after?” you ask, almost annoyed on the fictional character’s behalf. “He climbed a mountain and fought a dragon for her. What did the prince do? Just stand there and look hot?”

His expression changes, eyes widening in subtle surprise. “It’s not his story.”

“But—“

“It’s not his story, Y/N.”

He says it with finality, so you drop it, left to grumble internally about what you feel was an unjust ending for the caring and loyal knight.

It was a sweet tale, but you can’t help but think that you would’ve written it differently.

The return to work isn't as bad as you anticipated. Your boss, Jia, noticing your frayed nerves, has been easing you back in slowly with a handful of softball projects just to get you going again. As much as you think you needed that week to cry and wallow, it feels good to get back to some form of normalcy and have work to focus on and keep your mind off of things as much as you can.

The shadows linger though, anxiety grabbing hold of your chest every time you remember you'll be going home to a different apartment that night instead of the one you shared with Jace.

Jimin's been joining you for lunch every day, hanging around outside the office cafeteria before you get there like he's staking you out. You call him out for it on Thursday, and he looks sheepishly down at the table with a nervous chuckle.

"I kinda promised Tae I'd make sure you eat."

"Of course," you sigh. Taehyung's been getting up early every morning to cook both of you breakfast, insisting that it's part of his normal routine.

He forgets that you used to live together, and you know he's more of a granola bar guy in the morning, eager to get himself out the door and moving as soon as possible.

"You're all doing too much for me," you murmur. "You shouldn't have to babysit me like—"

"We don't have to do anything," Jimin says forcefully. "We want to be there for you. We do these things because we care about you."

"I know, but I just…" You swallow hard. "I don't want you all to see me as this broken thing that you need to protect."

Jimin's whole demeanor softens, and he reaches across the table to take your hand. You'd be worried about how this looks—two coworkers holding hands at lunch—if you didn't feel the tears welling up again, the urge to cry sticking itself in your throat like molasses as you try to choke it down.

"Y/N, that's not what we think," he says softly. "You're our friend. And you're hurting. And after the trauma you went through, it's perfectly understandable for you to need a little more attention and care than usual. Honestly, if anything, I'm worried that you seem to be taking things better than expected, and I think that's because you're trying to put a brave face on for us sometimes."

He’s not off-base. Especially after your Distraction Day, you've been doing your best these past few days to bottle everything down so your friends don't worry as much, taking your time to cry in the shower or quietly at night when everyone else is asleep.

"All I'm saying is that you can lean on us. That's what we're here for. And if your tough face can't fool me, you're definitely not fooling Tae. Let him help before he goes crazy with worry.”

Honestly, relying on Tae has been the least of your problems, even though you’re a little concerned about how he’s been waking up earlier than usual for you. That man has been your rock for years, and receiving comfort from him is almost second-nature at this point. It’s how the two of you operate. Everyone else, however…

“I’m fine with Tae,” you tell him. “But I’ve never felt this…vulnerable around the rest of you. It used to just be Tae and I, hiding away from our problems in my room, and now—“

“You have us!” He beams. “That’s a beautiful thing, Y/N, can’t you see? You’re not alone anymore. Not you, not Tae. You have us. All of us. We’re going to get you through this. And if you need a silver lining, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen Jungkook and Maya this united against a common enemy before. I could’ve sworn I heard them the other night trying to figure out the best way to slash Jace’s tires without getting caught.”

“Don’t make me cry at work,” you say, blinking furiously to try and clear the sudden moisture from your eyes. “I think Jia is already prepared to send me home if I don’t stop sounding like I’m learning how to breathe for the first time.”

He laughs gently, giving your hand a squeeze before relinquishing it. “It’s going to get better, Y/N. I know I just called you our friend, but really, we’re family.”

The summer presses on in a haze as you focus on just getting through one day, one step at a time: get out of bed, go to work, come home, shower, try to get a few hours of fitful sleep, eat somewhere in between all of that. And before you know it, an entire month has passed.

Taehyung continues to make you breakfast every morning and insists on taking you to your favorite ramen place at least twice a week for dinner, watching you with concerned eyes from across the table. You’d give him shit for it if his worry didn’t feel so justified. If he wasn’t so persistent in making sure your base needs were being met, you’re not entirely sure you can say you wouldn’t be starving yourself in grief. And you know it makes him feel better to see you eating—how happy it makes him to care for others—so you don’t resist when he pushes an extra pancake onto your plate or orders you a second helping of noodles to go.

It’s one of your scheduled ramen nights when you get back from work a little later, a particularly emotional day preventing you from getting your tasks done on time. You drop your bag in the living room with a sigh, thankful that no one is around to ask you how your day was—you’re really not in the mood. Taehyung had sent you a text letting you know that he wanted to take a shower before you head out, needing one after a long day of photographing clients in the baking July heat. You can hear water running in the bathroom, so you assume he must still be in there.

The living room makes you feel vulnerable with its vaulted ceiling and tall windows, like you’re laid bare for the whole world to see. Because of this, you decide to wait for Taehyung in his bedroom, hopeful that you might be able to find some reprieve in his tucked-away space.

You’ve been in Taehyung’s room before, of course, but you’re not sure that you’ve ever taken the time to really peruse. Unlike Jace, Taehyung’s space is neatly organized, and you’re first drawn to the large bookcase that dominates the wall adjacent to the door. He’s stuffed it full of art anthologies: Van Gogh, Renoir, Monet, and Pollock giving way to old photography textbooks on the bottom shelves. About halfway down, you spot the bound collection of his own work that you’d had made for him as a college graduation gift (you got one for yourself too, and he’d blushed beautifully when you asked him to sign it).

Across the room, his bed is carefully made, dark bedding tucked cleanly under the mattress. In place of a nightstand and opposite the dresser, he’s set up a series of box shelves for his photography equipment—you spot lenses and tripods placed alongside gadgets you would have no idea how to use. His desk sits to the left, an impressive PC setup backed by a large cork-board brimming with post-it notes, business cards, and a photograph that has you stopping in your tracks.

The first photograph Taehyung ever took.

It’d been the spring right after you both turned sixteen, and Taehyung had finally saved up enough money from his newspaper job to buy his first camera at the secondhand shop. You’d gone along, bouncing up and down with excitement for him so vigorously that the shopkeeper kept giving you strange looks over the counter.

New toy in hand, Taehyung pulled you to the park, where the cherry blossoms were in full bloom—clusters of pastel pink contrasting wonderfully against the bright blue sky. You bought yourselves some kkwabaegi at a nearby food stall as Taehyung sat on a bench figuring out how to operate the camera. Distracted by the numerous dials and buttons, he didn’t even realize you had returned until you dusted his cheek with a bit of cinnamon sugar, teasing that his cheeks were just as fluffy as the donut you subsequently handed him with a smile.

Snacks finished, you strolled along the petal covered path, chatting about everything and nothing as Taehyung continued to fiddle with the controls.

“Are you going to be able to figure it out?” you asked, skipping ahead to pluck a wildflower out of the grass after several minutes had passed without him taking a single photo.

“Actually, I think I’ve just got it.”

“Really?” you said, turning around to face him and freezing at the sound of a click and the sight of the camera held at the ready in front of his face. His grin was full of mischief as he dropped his arms at your stunned look, and you rushed back to his side to give him a joking shove. “I wasn’t ready, you jerk. I’m going to look like an idiot.”

But Taehyung was still smiling widely, already striding down the path to line up his next shot. “Don’t worry. You looked perfect.”

You’d forgotten about the photograph after that day, as Taehyung never actually showed it to you. You figured that it probably didn’t turn out right, a blurry candid, and was scrapped. Now, looking at it, it’s not his best work, but it’s not nearly as bad as you’d pictured in the moment.

It’s you, backdropped by the pink of the blossoms, with delicate petals dancing around your form. Your eyes are bright and eager as you turn to face him, the corners of your lips upturned in the beginnings of a smile and the small purple flower raised halfway to your chest.

In spite of the struggles you know you were dealing with at home, you look content. Happy.

“Oh, you’re home.”

You jump, spinning around to face where Taehyung suddenly stands just inside the doorway, and you feel something flip low in your belly.

It’s not that you’ve never seen him shirtless—years of going to the beach house together have taken care of that—but here, in the low, intimate light of his bedroom, the sight of his mostly naked body strikes you in a way that it never has before. The veins in his arms and hands pop from the heat of the shower, skin tanned by his time spent outdoors. His dark hair is still wet and, as if on cue, a drop of water falls off the end of a ringlet, your eyes following as it rolls over sharp collarbones, down a toned chest and smooth stomach, and into the towel sitting low on his hips.

Taehyung clears his throat, and one look at his flushed face tells you that your perusal of his torso hasn’t gone unnoticed.

Why are you even looking?

“I—uh—sorry,” you mumble, snapping out of your trance also flustered, words spilling out in a jumble of unexpected nerves. “I had a rough day and just felt so exposed in the living room, and if Jimin or Kook showed up and asked me how I was, I was going to lose it so I came in here as a distraction, and I promise I wasn’t trying to snoop or anything—“

“Y/N, hey.” He crosses the room to where you stand, smiling gently down at you. “I don’t mind.”

You swallow, still looking for something to distract from the fact that you were very obviously just checking him out. “You still have this?” You point at the photo of yourself, and he looks at it, expression overcome with sentimentality.

“Yeah.”

“A reminder of how far you’ve come with your work?”

He turns his eyes back to yours, slow and warm as they settle on you. “A reminder of a perfect day,” he says, voice low, before creases form at his brow. “But your day wasn’t so good?”

Your gaze drops to the floor, and you suck your lips between your teeth in a gesture that is answer enough for him.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He doesn’t push; never pushes. If you told him no, you know that’d be the end of it, and he’d spend the rest of your night together coming up with different threads of conversation to divert your attention. And perhaps it’s this awareness—his consistent and mindful respect of your boundaries—that makes you so willing to open up.

“I just can’t stop asking myself if I missed signs. If I could’ve done something different. Something better.”

“Y/N—“

“We were together four years, Tae. Four fucking years.” You pull in a breath, fighting off the stinging of tears in your eyes. “And in the end, I meant next to nothing to him.”

It’s the part you’ve been struggling with the most, how you gave him years of your life—nearly half of your twenties—and let him dig his fingers into your heart only to pull it apart like clay.

Revealed bits of yourself to him that you’ve only ever showed one other person.

That man stands in front of you now, gently scrutinizing your face as he considers your words. His hands drift your way as if of their own accord, hovering into your space without ever truly touching.

“Would you want to though?” he finally asks.

“What?”

“If you could’ve done something differently. Knowing what you know now.” A pink tongue darts out to lick his lips. “Would you?”

It’s a fair question, and you know what the right answer is supposed to be. You’re supposed to say that no, that son of a bitch can burn in hell for what he did. He’s trash, you can do better—all of the empty platitudes that are supposed to be expressed when a betrayal like this takes place.

But his actions don’t erase the years you spent together. Don’t mean that what you yourself felt wasn’t real.

And you loved him. You really did.

“I don’t know.”

Taehyung doesn’t exactly seem thrilled by that but nods nonetheless, his fingers wandering back to his sides to fidget with the edges of his towel. “You must know that none of it was your fault, though.”

“But if it was?” you question. “If I could’ve been a better girlfriend, a better partner—“

“It still wouldn’t have justified what he did.” There’s an edge to his voice now, a hint of anger. “Don’t you dare let that asshole make you feel like you deserved it.”

“But—“

“No. No buts,” he says roughly, hands shooting up to grip you around the elbows. “What he did is inexcusable. There’s no making sense of it, and there’s no one to blame but him.”

You know in your heart that what he says is true, but your newfound insecurities have had you questioning your sense of self—that maybe you had a part to play in what happened. A relationship is two people after all, maybe he wouldn’t have cheated if you had—

“You did nothing wrong,” Taehyung continues, reading your mind. “He made an active choice to sleep with someone else. If he had an issue with your relationship, he had a hundred other ways to approach it. He chose to do what he did.” His hands slide up to your shoulders, appraising. “You are kind and thoughtful. Fiercely loyal. Always want what’s best for those around you. You still get breathless for the first snowfall each winter and make the most delicious triple chocolate cake.” Fingers give you a gentle squeeze. “And you never take shit from anyone. Especially people who don’t give you the respect you deserve.”

His words are a balm sinking deep into your skin, but his voice sets something alight in your core, your veins thrumming at the spots where he holds you.

What in the world is this?

“Don’t let him convince you you’re anything less than the incredible person you are,” Taehyung continues, oblivious to your perplexed state. “And if he couldn’t value that, someone else will. Lots of other fish in the sea.”

He holds your stare, gaze boring into you like he can telepathically eliminate every doubt and insecurity rattling around your skull, and a stray voice at the back of your mind thinks that whichever woman eventually gets to wake up to those eyes every morning is going to be so damn lucky.

He frowns, licking his lips again as he finally notices that you’re not altogether with him. “Are you okay?”

Y/N, what the hell?

You give yourself a little shake, playing back what he just said. “I don’t know about that.”

“You’re not okay?”

“No,” you say, taking a step back so you can loosen his grip and clear your head. “About the whole fish thing. I kind of get it now.”

He’s clearly not following. “Get what?”

“Your break from dating,” you say. “Why you wanted to stop for a while.”

He raises a long finger to rub at his bottom lip. “That’s…not quite the same.”

“Why not?”

“There were…” He tilts his head as he considers his word choice, and another drop of water slides down his chest. “Underlying circumstances.”

Now it’s your turn to be confused. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means it’s a story for another time when you’re not trying to deflect by turning this around on me.”

“I’m not deflecting,” you argue. “I’m just saying I understand where you’re coming from now. Dating sucks. People suck.”

He chews at the inside of his lip, studying you. “That wasn’t my intention when I told you that.”

“Yeah, well when you told me that, we didn’t know that my boyfriend was fucking another woman,” you scoff.

He sighs at your crude reminder. “There is a third option, you know.”

“What’s that?”

“Just let yourself be,” he says. “You don’t need to rush into anything either way. If something happens, it happens. If not, then no pressure to look for it. But maybe don’t close yourself off from opportunities entirely just because one bastard made a terrible decision.”

“Tae,” you begin with an exhausted, rattling breath. But he cuts you off, already anticipating your protest.

“I just know you, and I know you’ve always believed in love. Dreamed of finding ‘the one’ and settling down.” He wrinkles his nose. “Made that whole wedding mood board after Haneul kissed you for the first time when we were fifteen.”

That makes you laugh. “Hey, you helped me cut out the pictures.”

“I did.”

You look at each other for an instant, twin smiles reflected on your faces before yours falls. “I just don’t know.”

“And that’s fine,” he says kindly, gently. “It’s okay to need time, and it’s okay to want to step away from dating for a while. It would just be awful if he ruined that part of you, you know?” His voice lowers even further. “It’s a wonderful part of you.”

You feel warm all over, like the comfiest, fluffiest blanket has been draped around your shoulders.

Honestly, what would you even do without this man?

“You’re a great guy, Tae. Do you know that?”

He blushes, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, and a tingle runs down your spine before he finally looks away.

“We should get going,” he tells you. “Namjoon and Hobi said they’d meet us.”

You dip your head, the moment gone. “Okay, but I’d recommend putting on some pants first.”

His face turns a deeper shade of red.

“Over here!”

Hoseok waves you down from a table at the back of the restaurant, pulling you in for a hug once you get there, just as he has every time he’s seen you since the incident with Jace. You’re then passed along to Namjoon, who embraces you with almost bone-crushing pressure.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, swaying you side-to-side. You just nod into his chest, giving him a tight squeeze before he releases you so you can slide into the seat next to Taehyung.

Aside from the hugs and the fact that the entire dinner is a ploy by Taehyung to get you to eat, the night feels relatively normal, and you’re grateful for it. Hoseok and Namjoon dramatically complain about the perils of medical school, regaling the two of you with stories about catastrophic anatomy labs and exam mishaps to your and Taehyung’s delight. The first blip comes when Hoseok absent-mindedly mentions an all-nighter of studying for boards while simultaneously working on seating arrangements before he immediately cuts himself off, throwing you a remorseful look.

“It’s fine, Hobi,” you say. “The world doesn’t just stop because my relationship did. And I’m still excited for you and Sunny.”

He nods but still looks apologetic, causing Namjoon to hop in with a change of subject. “Oh, by the way, I have my roommate situation settled.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh, I’m moving in with my friend Yoongi at the end of the summer.”

“Your childhood friend?” Taehyung asks.

“That’s the one,” Namjoon confirms with a nod. “We’re planning on having a little housewarming party once we’re settled if you’ll be up for it.”

“Sounds fun,” you say. “And I’d like to meet him.”

“He’s a great guy. Musician. He’s moving into the city for work.”

“Well if you vouch for him, I’m sure he’s wonderful.”

You don’t notice it, but Namjoon gets a glint in his eye. Sipping on his water, he glances between you and Taehyung before saying, “Speaking of great guys, I’d also like to introduce you to someone.”

Taehyung stills beside you; you freeze in equally stunned silence.

Hoseok’s eyes nervously dart to Taehyung then you as he says, “Ah, Namjoon, I don’t think—“

“If you’re up for it, of course.” Namjoon looks only at you, his tone casual as if he doesn’t notice the sudden tension. “He also just got out of a long-term relationship and is kind of a mess about it. I’m thinking it might do both of you good to get back out there in a low pressure situation, especially with someone who understands.”

“I…” You don’t know what to say. You’d meant what you said to Taehyung about taking a break from dating, but you also trust Namjoon. He wouldn’t set you up with a creep, and maybe he does have a point about a low pressure date to at least take that first step.

But isn’t it too soon? You and Jace were together for years, and it’s only been a little over a month. Are you supposed to take more time? Or should you just get that first date over with? It hits you suddenly that you don’t even know how to meet people now that you’re out of school. How do capital-A Adults even find dates? Maybe it would be better to meet up with someone that’s already been vetted by one of your friends instead of some random on a dating app.

Namjoon speaks up again as your mind spins. “It’s entirely up to you. I can give you his number, and if you decide to reach out, great. If not, no harm, no foul.”

Still undecided, you turn for a second opinion. “Tae, what do you think?”

But he’s staring intently at Namjoon, expression indecipherable. Namjoon finally shifts his attention from you to engage in an intense staring contest with Taehyung across the table, the two of them clearly having some kind of silent conversation while Hoseok looks on in obvious discomfort.

You’re sitting there—just trying to figure out what the hell is going on—when Taehyung abruptly faces you, slipping a hand over your knee.

“I think you should go for it.”

His eyes are sincere, his hand hot where it rests on your skin.

“Other fish in the sea, right?”

You blink at him. Well, that’s that then. If there’s anything in the world you have complete faith in, it’s that Taehyung would never lead you astray.

Turning back to Namjoon, you shift so Taehyung’s fingers fall away. “What’s his name?”

Namjoon smiles.

“Seokjin.”

NEXT

a/n: the next two parts are my favorite, and part 4 is already around 85% written so i'll be looking to get that out asap! in the meantime, please consider leaving a like, reblog, or feedback!

taglist is open!

[mathemagical-corsair]

[She seems frankly unphased by the vampire manifesting, but her eyes light up like it's her birthday at the mention of an energy conservation proof and some casks.] WAIT! Was the proof of energy coherence yours? Armor person what's your name? maybe you can take the barrels and I can stay here (assuming the @wizard-island-trading-co is interested in taking them on). I have plenty of blank pages in my notebook! Maybe over a glass of wine, or... well I'm ace, so maybe just the wine.

clanking echoes through your castle

the armor rounds the corner

where on the island did this spell place me now??

-@odd-animated-armor

Your room is on the third floor on the left. Meal time is 6:30 pm in the main hall. Enjoy your stay.

[josephseedismyfather]

WIP (it's not) Wednesday (anymore)

Thank you to @g0dspeeed for tagging me this week. Sorry for the delay! Writing is slooooow still (but sharing something shortly 😏) but drawing is still kind of happening. Here's the latest piece I'm working on. Been playing around with hair, not 100% sure on this but it's where I'm at with it now.

Harley Jane ❤️

Tagging, with apologies for doubles and no pressure as always: @wrathfulrook, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @trench-rot, @ladyoriza, @cassietrn, @redreart, @inafieldofdaisies, @hotmessteaparty, @v0idbuggy, @insanityofvaas, @simplegenius042, @malefiquinn, @strangefable, @noodlecupcakes, @neverthesameneveranother, @chazz-anova, @aristomal, @villageofshadow, @ocdemon-747, and whoever else wants to share something. Tag me! 😘

[copperbadge]

So I can't use ao3 on my work computer or be caught on my phone too much, and I can't read black text on a white screen for long, but work is slooooow this week (because 90% of my job relies on a currently malfunctioning program) so I had the brilliant idea to copy all the RR chapters into a single document that I could then manipulate for my reading comfort and go back to the original when I want to comment!

And then I spoiled myself on the BIG SPOILER in Chapter 7 😭😭😭

(I'm VERY HAPPY about it, but sad about having seen it before I got there. It is only my own fault though)

LOL, oh no! Sorry you were spoiled but I'm glad you could read it in a way that was more comfortable for you.

FWIW, if you don't want to do all the copypasta you should be able to save off a copy of the entire folder, it's a "public" folder in that it's accessible to anyone with the link, and then just go into your copy and night-mode each chapter as you read it. There's no in-gdocs way to flip something to night mode but you can either set the background to black and text to white, or set your phone to night mode and that shouuuuld do it, although I find night mode very difficult so I don't know much about what it does to things you open on your phone.

In any case, happy reading! :D And glad you're stoked about that chapter seven spoiler.

[naffeclipse]

Naff, just wow.

Immediately after I finished reading the CS chapter the tears came all at once, streaming down my face and leaving wet streaks down both of my cheeks. It is hard to make me cry like that. I’m floored, just completely stunned.

I’m soooo happy you gave us a chapter like this, giving the characters and the reader a safe space to digest and get some questions answered. It was also much needed after the action filled chapters before it and it’s a nice resting stop before the horrors waiting before us.

Naff, you write so beautifully, I’m looking back at the lines of text I saved to keep for this comment and I’m gonna cry again from just reading them! (Also sorry,, this is gonna be a long one,,,)

They ate and came back to your trailer, where all of your weapons reside. Holy water, silver knives, and bolts, the Latin incantations to exercise beings just like them.

Just, I’m crying at this. To me it holds so much emotional weight. This story is so close to my heart you don’t even know AAAAAAAA

The repeating “Eat.”, “Please. Eat.” and finally “Ask, then eat.” has me on the floor weeping and I don’t know exactly why. Just the ‘ask’ before the ‘eat’ feels so calm and like they’ve fully opened up. Ready to answer any question.

“Yes,” Moon answers softly. “We ate their hearts.”

You jerk in your shock, almost flinging the egg and sausage bit off of your utensil and to the floor.

“You ate his heart?”

Moon becomes completely still. He stares blankly at you then at your chest.

I swear they can’t keep doing this! But they must! But please phrase it differently boys! XD

The nature of the demonic cryptid before you tumbles through your brain and into your heart—a monster that protects children. An instinct to reject it as a fairy tale touches your nerves. It’s too good to be true, that’s too romantic to believe a being of teeth and claws would seek to protect vulnerable children.

Again, your writing!! And AAAAA IT IS TOO ROMANTIC TO BE TRUE BUT IT’S!!!!!

I’m so happy mothman came up again! And slkfdlfkfsahvjdf that whole bit was so needed oh man!! Perfect way to break the tension! “You killed it,” “It’s not your boyfriend.” FDKLKFSAJKADFG

I love that Y/N isn’t afraid of Eclipse, they’re afraid of Eclipse hurting others. This is why they love Y/N, their heart is filled with only compassion and an undying will to protect others. That scene by the gully, my brows still hurt from how much I was furrowing and straining them, I was at the edge of tears the whole way through. (I’m crying rn reading it again)

“Life means much to you, we understand—”

“No, you don’t! You don’t know the value of life at all,” you jab your finger at him, hitting the yellow button on his chassis, “If you did, you wouldn’t kill an innocent person!”

*WAILING*

“Heart, we have acted too long upon fear.” He holds your gaze, their voices low and rumbling with pangs of remorse and pleas. “We are still learning, but we want to show you that we are better for it.”

*LOUD SOBBING*

And the vow!! aaAAAA!!!!

Deep in the darkness of your sleep, your fist closes around their true hand, and squeezes.

They hum low, rumbling you into ease with a purr of promise.

They are yours.

I’m fucking CRYING!!!!!

The back rubs have me absolutely MELTING! that’s how touch starved I am at this point

Oh and the hug KILLED ME!!! OH MY GOD THEY NEEDED THAT. I THINK I NEEDED IT MORE THO. AAAAAAAAAAAAA Thank you for that :’>

The slow slooooow build of trust, acceptance and some fragments of happiness coming back was a wonder to read! And the still lurking distrust in the form of the salt shaker is tugging at my heartstrings so hard I think I’m gonna cry again..

Absolutely AMAZING chapter as always!!!

I told you before but please, pleeeeease don’t worry about taking your time with your writing. Waiting one month between chapters is nothing. I’d wait an eternity if necessary❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Meep, I'm gonna melt into a puddle, please!!! I'm thrilled that you enjoyed this chapter and I'm seeping into the floor knowing you like it so much! I also love that you shared your favorite paragraphs/quotes because alsdjflasdfj it's always a warm-fuzzing feeling when I hear what people were affected by!

Thankfully I won't make you wait a full month again, but I do appreciate it ♥ ♥ ♥

Ah, thank you so much, babe! ♥

[woozification]

sorry for slooooow activity - i'm in the process of moving (again!) but i'll be back to normal nonsense soon <3

[normalsdotheolympics]

Flight of the Shuttlecock

It's been a couple of weeks since my last post (sorry). In that time, Katy and I have been working diligently on our triathlon training. I've still been rehabbing my knee, walking on the treadmill four days a week, trying to steadily increase my time by 5-10% each week. Katy has been making great strides though in that regard. A couple of months ago, she wasn't able to really jog at all, but as of this week, she was able to jog for 2 miles! Such a huge improvement over the last month or so. For the triathlon, we'll need to get up to 6.2 miles or 10km. I'm hoping that by my next PT session in a few weeks, I can start some light jogging again. I've been doing a lot of strength training for my quads and hamstrings to try and strengthen the knee enough to be able to handle the running load.

In the meantime, we've been continuing with our cycling and swimming goals. I'm up to 35km on the bike and trying to get Katy back on the bike more. We took another swim lesson this weekend, working on some new drills. The past few weeks, I'd been working on some side swimming with the flippers, so I was pleased to hear that the instructor thought I was doing much better with my rotation and balance in the water. For some reason, I've been having more trouble with my flip turns the last couple of weeks. I think there are just too many things on my mind in the water, and the additional rotation on my strokes is leading to some rotational issues on my turns. Something to work on over the coming weeks. I've also been experimenting with some new goggles, since I've been having issues with eczema around my eyes, which I thought might be related to the latex in the goggles. I've been testing out what are called "Swedish" goggles, which are entirely plastic and without latex. They seemed like they'd be super uncomfortable, but actually they've been pretty nice. I kept expecting them to dig into my eyes since they're just plastic. The nice thing about them is that they have much more range of vision, which is why they're recommended for open water swimming such as a triathlon. However, I'm having a little trouble with keeping them on properly when doing my flip turns - they seem to get dislodged a little. During this week's swim lesson, we got some new drills. The most torturous one is called sculling, in which you somehow attempt to propel yourself through the water by essentially flapping your hands about in a back and forth sideways motion. It is brutal on the arms and lats, and it is SLOOOOOW. It's like I'm barely moving. But Katy told me she had the same experience last month, and now she's moving much more efficiently with it. So I'll push on.

And now to the biggest news of the day! Today, Katy and I ventured to the gym to try our hands at badminton. Our local rec center has one of the biggest and most organized badminton clubs in the state coincidentally. They meet twice a week and while most of the folks are paying members of the club, they do allow for drop-ins and newcomers. They have some sort of peg system in which you get a clothespin with your name (or a number if you're not a club member), and you put the pin on the board in a queue. As games finish on the six courts in the gym, you move along the queue. If you're next up, you become the "picker", and you can pick which other people in the queue you want to play with. It moves fairly efficiently really, but was a little hard to understand for newbies like us. We paid a $5 fee, which apparently goes to replacing the shuttlecocks, as they go through A TON of them every day. I couldn't believe how beat up they get just from one game. They also have to buy some sort of premium shuttlecocks to account for altitude. We borrowed racquets from the club and put our names in the queue. As we moved along, we were paired up with two very friendly young guys, who graciously showed the both of us how to play. We were inept to say the least. I figured out the service motion pretty well, but beyond that, it was ROUGH. I don't think I had properly appreciated how hard badminton is. I mean, forget playing at the high level that some of the folks were in the courts around us, but just making contact with the damned birdie was such a chore. It's like I couldn't quite figure out the length and size of the racquet. So many swings and misses at shots right there on the forehand. It was painful. After one game, we thanked the poor souls paired up with us for their tutelage, and we went into one of the nearby racquetball courts to practice a bit and get more comfortable with the game. It was fun though. We will definitely be back at it in the next week or two to practice more! It's a fun, fast paced game, and hopefully something that we can get better at over the next few months. The goal is to be able to play a proper game by the end of the year, or maybe in January depending on how often we can get out to play.

Otherwise, over the next few weeks, we'll just keep working on our triathlon training and strength training. We'll probably book another swim lesson in 2 weeks. Once we've gotten to a good place with our swimming, we need to start on the other strokes. We were supposed to have done so already really, but I think we sort of decided to postpone that a bit to make further progress on our freestyle. We'll also have a month break from curling for the holidays which will free up time for some of our other activities. I'll update again soon!

[ao3feed-destiel-02]

To Find a Place for Love to Go

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/Y1msJqG by clovesmoke "Now that's a match made in heaven, isn't it? The miracle worker and the grief expert. I wonder who will win?" Dr. Castiel Novak is a pediatric oncologist at Seattle Mercy Children's Hospital, lovingly regarded by staff as the "Angel of Mercy" - because he's never lost a patient. Dr. Dean Winchester is a family psychologist and the department's unofficial expert on loss. The two have never met before, but when both are put on the care team for a little boy named Owen Mills, their paths finally cross. (A story about grief. And love. They're the same thing, after all.) Words: 61665, Chapters: 15/32, Language: English Fandoms: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Jody Mills, Owen Mills, Sam Winchester, Eileen Leahy, Charlie Bradbury, Meg | Demon Possessing Meg Masters, Gabriel (Supernatural), Claire Novak, Rowena MacLeod, Crowley (Supernatural), Pamela Barnes (Supernatural), Kevin Tran (Supernatural), Cain (Supernatural), Ben Braeden, Balthazar (Supernatural) Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Psychologist Dean Winchester, Doctor Castiel (Supernatural), major themes of grief and love, Child Death, Minor Character Death, Fluff and Humor, Slow Burn, slooooow sorry, Eventual Smut, the smut is not immensely descriptive because I'm nervous, Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Emotionally Intelligent Dean Winchester, first time THAT tag has ever been used lol, Castiel Has Self-Esteem Issues (Supernatural), Dean teaches Castiel about grief, Dean is an Uncle, Past Benny Lafitte/Dean Winchester, Past Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester is Ben Braeden's Parent, Family Feels, some devastating depictions of loss, Cancer, Past Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Café Owner Gabriel (Supernatural), Meg and Castiel are best friends, Charlie and Dean are also best friends :), Meg is the GOAT, Charlie is an elite wingwoman, The Winchesters use ASL, Cain was Dean's therapist, the house is a paid actor, Therapy, I will therapize the reader via this fanfic, Dean is a Swiftie, Castiel is also a Swiftie, Taylor Swift as a plot device, I wish that was a joke, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, nothing bad happens with Dean and Castiel, Dean and Castiel are nice to each other and do not fight not even once, mature adults who communicate wow, Openly Gay Dean Winchester, Openly Gay Castiel (Supernatural), Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/Y1msJqG

[kyanako5972]

NaNoWriMo Day 4

Title: No such accidents

Vignette word count: 383

Running total word count: 1714

Still doing the nameless narrative schtick, but the protagonist is Judith Diaton from "Behind Closed Doors". No idea about her lab partner, though. This story is inspired by a voice-controlled robot car that I had to make for an electrical engineering class back in 2019. A class that had only become mandatory for computer science majors starting with my batch.

I'll just put the whole thing here. I think the dialogue is better than my 2am brain dialogues that I omitted from my other posts, at least.

----

Elegia Hall is lined with very sophisticated asonarium absorption technology. Expensive, yes, but it's a huge necessity for a building that houses even more expensive computer hardware. Not that anyone could accidentally set off something with sonomancy, but the department didn't want to risk any deliberate attacks on their systems either.

The student let out a frustrated sigh when the op-amp fell off the table before she ducked down to pick it up. In just about any other building, she could utter a simple spell to lift it up. Small spells were typically exempt from the absorbers. But even that was too much of a risk in this department.

“Do you think we should use tones with the car?” her lab partner asked. The pesky voice-controlled car was driving them up the wall with its refusal to follow input.

“I don't know. Do you think you could land the same tone every time?” When her partner shrugged, she continued. “I don't think tone would be enough. We'll have to use very distinct patterns with it.”

“We tried using distinct patterns. It didn't work. Stubborn PCA.”

They exited the building from the third floor. (Only such a hilly school could have exits on four different floors.) After placing the robot car on the ground, they began their test.

“Slooooow...” she said, and the car rolled a short distance.

“Up up up!” her partner said, and this time the car covered more ground.

“Finally, those words actually work.”

“Ready for the turns?”

They brought the car back to the starting point.

“Make left!” The car moved a short distance before turning.

Finally, they were ready to try the last command. A sharp, high-pitched declaration of the final direction. The student crouched down and prepared the word.

“R- ai!” A skateboarder barreled past her, and she instinctively cast a barrier spell.

Too bad this didn't count as an accident. Even in the heat of the moment, she meant it as a defense. Too bad they were outside, or the absorbers would have caught her petty defense mechanisms. Too bad this mechanism fried the car's battery.

“I'm so sorry,” she told her partner. Her partner was clearly irritated, but the damage to the car wasn't too bad. At least they had the means to replace the components.

[beardedbarba]

For when you wake up. I promised these two days ago, but I am SLOOOOOW.

Sorry for the washed out lighting, there is a very bright light right there that I didn't want to try and edit the photos to compensate. These are my X-Files set. I did NOT design these, I found them on one of those custom DVD cover forums. There's no covers that he made for the new seasons past 9 but as you can see I have almost the full original run plus the moves and spinoffs. Sorry for the washed out lighting, there is a very bright light right there that I didn't want to try and edit the photos to compensate. These are my X-Files set. I did NOT design these, I found them on one of those custom DVD cover forums. There's no covers that he made for the new seasons past 9 but as you can see I have almost the full original run plus the moves and spinoffs. I'm only missing X-Files season 6 and Millennium season 3. All in space saver cases to, well, save space. I love them, they please the OCD very much. Lowkey makes me want to do a full watch of the series and spinoffs. But god I have trouble with stimulation overload NOW, imagine if I tried THAT!

shanie i love these beyond reason.

beyond. reason.

[inkblccded-moved]

// ya’ll writing is so hard today, all my spoons were spent in class this morning. I have like four drafts half-written so maybe i’ll finish them up tonight or maybe i’ll finish them up tomorrow but soon. there will be replies soon.

[12romy]

Do you still have some prompts? Can we still send some?

Yes absolutely! I'm sorry, I've been a little busy but I'm good now! I do have some prompts left and I'll try to work on them soon!

Don't hesitate to send more x)

[yostresswritinggirl]

Hajashkjdha you probably already thought of this and got asks talking about that i dont know of, but imagine normal y/n meeting universal reversal gernshin bois. just, take a minute. modern and modern. even better if its a simp meets simps. like- what?

it be like:

you: i play genshin and youre in the game wth i simp for all of you

and then its like

them: no me

just a fun concept with your amazing writing and ideas. p.s: appreciate your work!

Well you're right, anon, I DID think of this before. Well kind of, modern and modern is a bit hard to imagine since it's clashing so much in reality and logic ksbdosjs- my thought process before was something like thisss:

Mihoyo actually used you as reference to their character model to the point that it almost look like you're the ultimate cosplayer. You could be one of the staff behind the scenes of Mihoyo, maybe an artist or the page's editor/admin. You find the thought endearing and it's good that you haven't shown yourself much in public.

The Genshin boys would probably see you and be so goddamn scared, happy and curious while you just stand there not knowing how intense their stare was. Interactions would be as follows:

Albedo: literally walks up to you and asks "are you real?" and he'll turn into a ranting fanboy and you, a blushing mess

Kaeya: would flaunt over to you to make sure he gets your attention, with that cursed PERFUME, hoping it actually works, and it definitely does with that pretty face of his

Diluc: Might already know you exist and would just start casually talking about the game, while trying not to stare so obviously

Xiao: just silently slips next to you, sending side glances as he grasps with the fact you exist, if you suddenly move he's likely to suddenly catch your wrist (and then have a mental breakdown)

Zhongli: the most OBVIOUS out of them all, would literally stare at you with his hand on his chin and face contorting in confusion, and if you look at him he's still gonna be lost in his own world

Venti: "heyyy thereee" he's gonna be the little shit that PLAYS the game NOT SO SUBTLY next to you, he's going to play your character the whole time, even playing the voicelines until you NOTICE HIM-

Childe: The same as Kaeya with light touches like to the elbow to assist you or guide you away from the sidewalk "that's not a safe distance" he's gonna be hyperaware of your height difference, and will breakdown the moment you speak

Ganyu: She's gonna be polite and honest with her intentions, showing the game screen on her phone and then shyly asking if you two can talk over tea or coffee, she's very curious and flustered

The concept you made seems like something you can expand on much better than I can! So please share your thoughts!

[haleykim84]

Mini prompt fest update!

Hi guys! I just wanted to let you know that I haven't forgotten about the mini prompt fics! In fact, I finished one of the fics this week! It's with my beta right now, so I expect to be able to post it some time over the next few days.

Sorry it's taken me so long!

[alwaysdjarin]

INFINITY

CHAPTER 5: LIKE FIRE AND ICE

(Image: The Mandalorian, Star Wars/Disney)

Warnings: It’s very slooooow burn, a little bit language, they’re talking about angst and violence, themed the dead of parents

Summary: You and Mando get to know each other better and better.

Notes: I hope you don't get mad at me because there’s not much action happening in this chapter. I want the two different characters to be easily recognizable and their relationship to slowly build. But after this Chaper the journey continues and there will be more action. I promise. 🖤

Words: 3k

-*-*-*-*-*

When you wake up the next morning, you have a fertile headache. You moan, blink and sit up. Sleepily you wipe your hair out of your face. Next to your sleeping place is a plate of fruit, some bread and water. This is the first time Mando has been so caring.

Heavy boots come down the ladder. "Well, you're awake. How are you?"

"My head..." You pinch your eyes together and hold your hands in front of your face.

"Drink a lot, then you'll feel better soon."

You take a large sip of water and lean against the cold wall behind you. Then you notice that your arms are full of blue and purple spots. Your gaze pans over to Mando and you remember your conflict from last night. The knot in your chest tightens when you have to think of his words.

"May I sit down with you?" He asks in a calm voice.

You nod and he settles down a few feeds away from you. You both sit there for minutes and remain silent until he finally takes the floor.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. Neither physically nor with my words."

"It's okay. Now at least I know how you think about me." Maker, you should have leave it uncommented. The stubborn Mandalorian actually just apologized to you and you give him a stupid comment.

Mando sighs and shakes his head. "I reacted in affect. My statement sucked and I didn't mean it that way. I was so worried about the child and...and you." He holds a gloved hand to the forehead of his helmet. "I have a big responsibility for you. Karga and your brother trust me that nothing happens to y-"

You laugh. "Oh, Karga and my brother. So that's what this is all about." You feel ridiculous because you briefly thought he was really afraid for YOU.

Mando is speechless. He is not good with words and this situation is completely new to him right now. He has never been with another person for such a long period of time. He hardly knows interpersonal relationships.

The silence makes you cry. Tears run down your cheeks quietly as you close your eyes and inhale deeply. You wish you weren't here right now. "I was scared Mando. I was really scared for my life yesterday."

You sob loudly and bury your face in your hands. Suddenly you feel arms around you. Mando has sat down next to you and pushes you firmly against his armor.

"It's okay. Everything is fine." His voice is so quiet that you hardly notice it.

"I didn't want to cause any trouble. I didn't want anything from the two guys. I was on my way to the ship." Your body trembles while you whimper.

"Shhh, I know. I know." Mando pushes his arms tighter around you. It feels like he's completely enclosing you. As if you were completely surrounded by the Beskar of his armor. "I'm here. I won't let this happen to you again." You can feel his helmet on your head. Now you are completely trapped in his embrace.

It feels good. That's how you actually believe him every word. You've never felt as safe as you are in his arms right now. Your breathing slows down again and you can finally stop crying. You spend a few more minutes in this position before he carefully loosens his arms.

You look up into his dark visor. Mando puts his hand on your chin and gently strokes your cheek with his thumb. Wow. Your heart starts to beat faster right away. What is that?

"Thank you, that was good." You can bring a little smile over your lips and Mando nods. "Gladly."

You sit upright again and grab a few fruits. There is one more thing you absolutely need to know. "What...Did you know that the child has these abilities?" You ask curiously.

"Yes, he has already done this a few times. I wanted to tell you, the right time hadn't come yet. That's complicated."

"I...but...So I've heard about the force a few times, but I thought there were barely any of them left."

So Mando tells you how he met Ahsoka months ago. That his name is Grogu and she can't train him because the bond between them is too strong. That he has decided to let him stay with him, but they are in constant danger of being found by Moff Gideon's men.

You keep your eyes wide open. "And you couldn't even have told me these little details before our journey started?"

"I didn't want to worry you, so far everything has worked quite well and I wanted to wait for the right moment. That's probably now." Mando shrugs his shoulders and you would like to see his face now. Surely there are some wrinkles of concern on his brow.

You laugh a little desperately. "However. Well, then I can be glad that the two weren't stormtroopers yesterday."

Mando moans. "We will be in Nevarro tomorrow, then you are safe."

You look at him indignantly, completely surprised by his statement. He seems to be able to read your face.

"Y-you don't want to leave us?"

"Who should take care of the little sweetheart then?" You look sadly at the crib. "You don't sing and dance with him and your cooking skills...sorry Mando, but your food is terrible."

The dark visor is staring at you. You managed to leave the Mandalorian speechless again. "I.... Grogu would certainly be happy if you would stay a little longer."

You're smiling. "Then you probably won't get rid of me this time." You hit the Beskar on his shoulder with your fist.

"Apparently."

__________

You mainly sleep the rest of the day. Your muscles hurt from yesterday's fight and your headache is also strong.

When you arrive in Nevarro the next day, you already feel a lot better. The ramp opens and the heat and bright light welcome you.

Together you walk through the streets on your way to the cantina, the Mandalorian, Grogu in his flying crib and you. You greet a few people as you pass by. Mando does not greet anyone, he is completely in his role of the mute, scary killer and looks stubbornly straight ahead.

Arriving at the cantina, Karga and Robyn welcome you warmly. While Mando handles his business with Karga, you stay at the bar counter. You smile at Robyn while he looks at you. You put on a long-sleeved shirt so that he doesn't see the blue and green spots on your arms, but the fresh wound on your cheek can't be hidden.

However, even before he can say anything about it, another person comes from the back of the bar.

"Ben?" You are amazed. "Aaaahhh!" You scream with joy while Ben comes around the counter to welcome you. He is your brother's best friend and you've known each other forever. After the death of your parents, he was a big mental support for you, you spent a lot of time together. You trust him and sometimes there was more between you two. Nothing serious, just a little fun. Friends with benefits.

Mando recognizes this immediately. He is a master of body language. Since he sat down at Karga's table, his eyes have only staying on you. The way Ben holds his hands on your hips during your hug shows him directly how close you are. An unusual heat overflows his body. He has never had such a feeling before. Is he jealous? He clenches his hands into fists under the table. Now just want to finish the business quickly and get out of here. With you by his side.

You hear that Ben is now sometimes helping out in the cantina. "Why didn't you ever do that when I was still here? That would have been so much fun."

"Because I couldn't have concentrated on the work."

You wink at him. "I'm just saying it would have been fun."

Suddenly you notice a shadow behind you. "We're going!" The deep voice directly on your neck will silence you both. You turn around, Mando is so close behind you that you get scared for a moment and have to lift your head to look into his visor.

You raise your index finger. "One minute." And smile at him. Mando moans and takes a step back, he doesn't cares much of goodbyes. He's more of the guy who just disappears without anyone noticing.

You wave at Karga from the distance and go behind the counter to hug your brother. During the hug, he says in Mando's direction "I don't know where she got the injury from and this time I don't even want to know. If she has just one scratch at our next meeting, I will...“

You look at him appease. „It’s all right, I bumped myself. This ship is so uncomfortable, full of metal."

Mando doesn’t move an inch, the visor continues to be directed only at you. Then you also hug Ben. "Bye my lovely Angel. Take good care of yourself and come back soon." He presses you firmly against himself and gives you a kiss on the side of your neck.

"Now!" Mando's voice sounds heavy and strict. You roll with your eyes. "Yes, I'm coming."

When you get out of the cantina, you smile at Mando. "You behave again as if you’re my father."

"You didn't told me you have a boyfriend." His voice is monotonous, he doesn't look at you while you walk along the street, Grogus crib between you.

"Oh wow, are we really having this kind of conversation right now, Mando?"

He is silent while you turn into a side street.

"Wait...we have to go this way!"

You wave him over to you. "But my apartment is up there. I just need a few new shirts." You just keep walking and at the heavy steps behind you, you hear that he is following you.

Once in your apartment, you have to laugh out loud. You can hardly stop, tears shoot in your eyes.

"What?" Mando is visibly irritated.

"Sorry, but....but....it looks so funny as you are here in my far too small apartment. There is hardly any room for me here and now you are standing here, so huge with your armor."

Okay, he probably doesn't find it funny. At least there is no reaction from him.

In the meantime, Grogu is also awake again and looks curiously out of his crib. You take him and put him on the floor so that he can walk around.

Mando stands in the door between the living room and the bedroom as you notice his gaze to your bed.

You push him with your elbow into the side where there is no armor on his hip. "You’re welcome to lie down. It must have been ages since you slept in a real bed. And I heard it's quite comfortable." You wink.

"No thanks." Of course, he rejects that.

"Come on..." You stand up against him with your full weight and try to push him towards the bed. Mando moves half a step, but you don't really get him forward. "At least sit down while I pack my things." And with a big sigh, he actually sits down on your bed.

You nod and smile at him.

Grogu is now standing in front of Mando and also wants to go on the bed, so he takes him on his lap and the two watch you pack some shirts and pants. When you finally turn back to them, you have to laugh again. This combination on your small bed is simply too unique.

You finally sit down next to the two and let yourself fall on your back. Then you put your hand on Mando's side, exactly where there is no armor. You notice how his body stiffens and pinch him slightly.

"Now lie down! Just for a short moment." And indeed, he is slowly falling next to you. You smile because you have cracked his hard facade again and Grogu crawls between you and cuddles up to your stomach.

You close your eyes and enjoy this moment of peace. You are sure that if you fall asleep now, you will not wake up for the next three days. You wonder if Mando has closed his eyes too. When you look at him, his visor is directed upwards towards the ceiling.

"He's not my boyfriend." You whisper so as not to wake him up if he really sleeps. But he reacts directly and turns his head in your direction. Your face just a few Inches away from his visor. Again, your gaze hits his hidden eyes immediately. He doesn't know how you do this all the time, but it means so much to him. It feels like you're the first person who really looks behind the visor. Together with the fact that you constantly touch him on the body parts that are not covered by his armor, this makes him think that you really see the person in him and not just the warrior.

"It's none of my business." He frowns under his helmet. Why does he always express himself so wrongly towards you? He swears that he will work on it. His fear that he will hurt you again with his words is too big.

You smile tired. "I still wanted you to know that." You close your eyes again. „Ben helped me when my parents died. You know...in a different way than my brother or Karga. He was there when I woke up screaming at night and took away my pain."

"What happened to your parents?" You notice how Mando turns his body on his side to be able to look at you better. Your old bed squeaks under his weight.

You take a deep breath, you haven't talked about it in a long time. "A Twi'lek attacked our cantina, he shot them both, for a few fucking credits from the cash register. Robyn and I were in the back room, we listened to everything. I wanted to see them, but he stopped me. Otherwise, I would probably be dead too..."

You open your eyes again and notice that they are filled with tears. "My father was directly dead, my mother died in my arms."

"I'm sorry about that." Mando is helpless, he doesn't really know how to react now. "W-Why didn't anyone help?"

"It wasn‘t very busy this day, he had a perfect timing. And the few people who were there...Well, no one thought it was necessary..."

Mando sees the pain in your eyes and it breaks his heart to see you like that. His head is buzzing with the thought that you had to watch helplessly as your parents died. Then he remembers the situation on Corellia and feels even worse. "Fuck, the two guys on Corellia..."

You just nod with an empty glance. "This was the first time in 8 years that I heard blaster fire again. And then directly two in a row. Just like I hear it over and over again in my dreams." Tears flow from your eyes.

"Come here!" Mando puts his arm in your direction so that you can put your head on his chest. Then he hugs you and pulls you tighter to him. Grogu still cuddled between you. "Sorry, I didn't know that. Otherwise I would have found another way to get the two out of the way."

You laugh quietly between all your tears. "Oh, you didn't know that. And that's probably the price if you are traveling with a bounty hunter. I was aware that sooner or later I would hear shots. At some point it's time to leave the past behind and look ahead." You slowly put your arm around him and hit exactly one place again, without armor. Not knowing that your touch triggers fireworks in Mando every time you do this.

"We have something in common Angel, you know?" You both quietly notice that this is the first time he calls you ‚Angel‘.

"What?" You ask curiously.

"We both lost our parents." And then he tells you his story. Short and factual, not as full of emotions as you. You can feel that he’s tough. The creed has made him almost deaf to feelings.

You have to smile. "That's pretty much the only thing we have in common."

His chest plates vibrate briefly. Was that a laugh? It wasn't audible through the helmet, but you felt it clearly.

"Oh yes, that's probably true. We are like fire and ice."

You raise your head to be able to look into his visor. "But I am the fire!"

You are sure that he is rolling with his eyes now and you love to challenge him like that. "Yes, yes, of course. You are the fire." And he really means it that way. He has no idea what's going on, but your warmth, this fire in your eyes just attract him. He would freeze to death without you near him.

For a long time you both just lie there and breathe. Grogu snores between you and you enjoy the moment.

When you are about to fall asleep, the modulated voice speaks. "Angel, don't sleep. We have to set off."

You are sad that the moment is over and sit up tired. Mando also sits up. "You were right, your bed is not even that bad."

You wink. "Well, you know where you can find it now."

You grab your bag and finally you make your way back to the Razor Crest. But this time both of you with a lot of warmth in your hearts.

>>>>> Chaper 6: Don‘t you dare to die here

[littleoldrachel]

"how much did you drink?"

for the utterly wonderful @gumnut-logic who asked for how much did you drink? with virgil and scott from this prompt list. tysm my lovely 💚💚💚💚 this ran away from me a bit and i am Not Sure but i hope you still enjoy!

[if you wanna prompt me, hmu! but beware i am slooooow]

Scott slinks through the sliding doors, relishing the cooling sweat on his skin as the sky begins its raspberry ripple across the tropical island. His dawn runs are the only time he gets to really be - he loves his family with everything he has and more, but that half hour with just the consistent crunch of earth beneath his feet is his own perfect sanctuary.

And goodness knows he needs it after the past couple of days.

A flash of Alan’s terrified face as the grapple line gave way and he’d plunged -

Scott screws up his face, crumpling the image like one of Virgil’s discarded “rubbish” (read: brilliant, if rough around the edges) sketches.

Speaking of which, it’s time for Scott to do the rounds and check in on his sleeping brothers.

There’s Alan, sprawled haphazardly across the floor of his bedroom - the only sign of his near-death encounter in the careful bandaging around his forearm (“I can too still game like this, Scott, I’m not balancing the controller on my wrists??”). Gordon too, is starfished on his duvet, but beginning to stir as fractured sunlight dances across his room.

Virgil, however - most unusually - is not burritoed in blankets, which sets Scott’s choir of alarm bells ringing. He hesitates, then sighs, patching through to Thunderbird Five even as he makes his way to Virgil’s studio (also empty).

“John?” he asks quietly, because John works on an unpredictable sleep schedule that gives Scott more stress than he cares to admit, but he would like John to be sleeping right now.

“John is sleeping, Commander. May I be of service?” EOS’ voice is more than a little grating in comparison to the bird song that floats through Virgil’s open windows. Scott resists the urge to grit his teeth - he is trying, okay?

“EOS. Hi.” He rubs his chin, eyes catching on the top sketch of Virgil’s messy pile: Thunderbird One streaking across a stormy sky mid-lightning strike. “Can you tell me where Virgil is?”

“Virgil is in the hangars, where he has been for the last thirteen and a half hours,” EOS says primly.

Scott’s head snaps up, even though there’s nobody there to stare at. “What? Did he fall asleep down there?”

“No, Commander, he is very much awake.” There’s something in her tone that riles him up, a pre-rehearsed nature to it, but he deliberately sets it aside for Future Scott. He’s given a curt thanks to EOS before he’s even registered that he’s striding down to the hangars, concern driving him with a speed usually reserved for rescues.

He hears Virgil before he sees him, a loud swear and a clatter of tools as he’s rounding the corner into the workshop.

Virgil is kneeling over a workbench, picking glumly through the jumble of parts skidding across the surface. Dark brows knitted tight, skin pale beneath fluorescent white lights, a graveyard of abandoned mechanisms, drained mugs, and scraps of graph paper all around him.

"Virgil."

It comes out a little sharper than intended, slicing through the silent workshop and causing Virgil to start violently.

"Scott! What are you doing here?"

"I came to ask you the same thing?"

"I'm…" Virgil gestures vaguely at the chaotic work surface. "Fixing."

"Have you had any sleep?

Virgil frowns. "I'm fine, it's not that late yet."

Scott stares, concern steadily rising. Virgil is known for losing track of time when absorbed in a task, but only usually with his art, and only for this period of time when he's upset, working something through, or...

Only then does Scott take in the way Virgil's hands tremble around the pieces of metal in his fingers, the jittering beat of his leg like helicopter wings, and slight dampness of the unstyled waves of hair across his forehead. He blinks at Scott, squinting a little in that way that Scott knows means a killer headache is brewing.

Methodically, the Commander of International Rescue surveys the room, searching for the source of the issue. His eyes land on the culprit: a coffee-stained jug, completely drained save the dregs of coffee grounds plastering the sides of the container.

It’s a big jug.

Scott swears.

“Virg. How much did you drink?”

Virgil’s eyes dart all over, not resting for a second on Scott’s face. “I - I don’t know. I just had some whenever I got tired and now I’m-” He wrings his hands, sending metal parts spilling from his palms.

“But why? What the hell were you thinking?” Scott’s tone is chiding, too harsh, and he makes a deliberate effort to reign in the reprimand that’s rearing up inside him.

“I just... “ Virgil swallows, meeting his eyes for a moment, looking away at the disappointment there. “I just needed to understand what happened to the grapple lines. To make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Oh, Virg.

Scott softens, Commander melting back into Protective Big Brother because he gets it. God knows he gets it. He steps towards Virgil, wraps a hand around his elbow, feels it shake beneath his touch.

But why like this, Virgil?

“For thirteen hours?”

Virgil blinks and the genuine surprise in his eyes is enough that Scott accepts that this wasn’t a deliberate act of self-destruction and that loosens the anxious knot in his chest a little.

“I didn’t mean -”

“I know.”

Virgil ducks. “I just needed to find out -”

“I know.”

Virgil bites his lip, and Scott knows the image of their littlest brother’s panicked face is stuck on repeat in his mind. Scott closes his eyes, allows the video to roll in his own head, and the pain that rips through his chest has him tugging Virgil into his arms for a hug. Big as he is, Virgil is never one to say no to a hug, and he folds himself into Scott’s chest with a sigh. Scott can still feel the tension thrumming through Virgil’s body, and he instinctively tightens his grip.

Trust Virgil to hurt himself with his bean-juice addiction. Frankly, they’re lucky this hasn’t happened before with the amount of the stuff he pours into his body.

“I know I’m not having a heart attack, but -”

“You know I love it when you begin a sentence like that -”

Virgil tries to laugh but it comes out a little shaky. "Shut it, you." He rests his head on Scott's shoulder. "My heart is going so fast it hurts. Feels like a goddamn panic attack."

“What the hell have you done to yourself?”

“Mild caffeine overdose,” Virgil’s voice comes out muffled. “Sorry.”

“Mild. Caffeine. Overdose.”

Virgil laughs again, a little surer this time and pulls back from the hug. “I’ll be okay. Just gonna feel horrible for a bit, I think.”

“You think. Let’s see if Grandma agrees.”

“No! Let her have her time away - this is - it’s stupid. I’m fine.”

Scott gives him a Look, but Virgil glowers right back.

Scott loves him, but Jesus, does he wish he could trust Virgil to be honest with him about his health.

“Don’t make me set you up in the infirmary. You know I’m not bluffing.”

The glare intensifies. “I’m fine, Scott.”

Scott resists the urge to roll his eyes with a truly Herculean effort. “I want to do a scan, just to be sure.” “Scott -”

He plays the trump card (regrets playing it at the look on Virgil’s face, but needs must). “I could have lost Allie too, Virg. Don’t make this harder than it is.”

Virgil sags. He taps his watch. “EOS?”

“Yes, Virgil?”

“Please can you pull up my vitals for my dear big brother to fret over?”

“Of course, Virgil. Though I don’t understand why you want Scott to fret, he seems grumpy en-”

“Thank you, EOS.”

A holograph flickers into view, and Scott scans them, relaxing slightly at the lack of danger. Virgil’s heart rate is too high, as expected, and he’s dehydrated and exhausted, but otherwise, he really does seem okay. Still, Scott knows how dangerous dehydration and exhaustion can be, and more to the point, so does Virgil.

“You’re a stubborn idiot, you know that, right?”

“I learned from the best.” Virgil’s smile is teasing, but he’s okay, and Scott releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, Scooter, whatever you say.” Scott glares. “Right. You’re grounded for at least a day -” To his credit, Virgil only looks a little crestfallen. “- And you’re going to rest.”

Scott can practically see the cogs turning in his brother’s mind as he seeks a loophole or way to escape, but for now, he’s going to ignore it. Another problem for Future Scott, poor guy …

“Let’s go. Up to the lounge, now.”

“I should clear up -”

“Nuh-uh. Lounge. Now.”

Virgil lets out a loud sigh, and with much griping about leaving the workshop messy for Brains, leads the way up to the lounge. Scott follows closely, eyeing how Virgil’s feet drag with exhaustion even as his fingers tap away with restless energy.

Scott deposits him on one of the couches, tosses a throw over him, and resists the urge to tuck him in, but only because -

“I’m not sick, Scott. I’m okay! This isn’t necessary,” Virgil calls after him. Scott returns seconds later, a glass full of water.

“Drink all of this. And then have these.” Scott drops two electrolyte tabs beside Virgil. “Now excuse me, but I’m going to consult a qualified medical opinion before I believe you.”

“I am a qualified medical opinion -”

“- Who hasn’t overdosed on caffeine this morning.”

Virgil scowls. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

*****

Scott returns with Gordon, whose concerned professionalism quickly morphs into a shit-eating grin when it becomes apparent that actually, Virgil - for all his brilliance and talent - is an idiot.

But he’s surprisingly gentle when he fetches Virgil another glass of water and suitably soothing as they take a calm stroll around the flatter paths of the island to help Virgil burn some restless energy. The waft of pancakes draws them back into the lounge where Scott has stacked up thick, fluffy pancakes that melt on their tongues and warm them inside out.

By now, Virgil is visibly less shaky, and Gordon’s concern has dissipated to the extent that he blatantly steals three pancakes off Virgil’s plate. To be fair, Virgil probably doesn’t need six pancakes, but still. It’s the principle of the matter.

Scott - bless his heart - has also queued up the latest series of the ocean documentary that Gordon and Virgil gush over, but that Scott himself finds mind-numbing. The three of them squash together on one sofa, chomping pancakes and squabbling over blankets as the sun rises on another beautiful day.

Alan strolls in, nose first and still half-asleep. “Pancakes?” he says hopefully.

He catches sight of Virgil and seems to shake himself awake immediately. “Virgil? What the hell are you doing up?”

“Language,” Scott says thickly, the effect lessened by the mouthful of pancake and chocolate spread inside it.

“What the heck,” Alan waves a dismissive hand. “It’s barely ten, Virg?”

“Tell him what you’ve gone and done,” Scott says, because damn straight is he going to hold onto this one the next time Virgil’s yelling at him for taking a stupid risk. Well, at least I can drink coffee without poisoning myself, Virgil can just hear it now. .

“I drank too much coffee,” Virgil tells the ceiling.

“Sorry, V,” Gordon says, his smile wicked. “Allie didn’t quite catch that.”

Virgil sighs. “I overdosed on caffeine,” he says loudly.

“That’s a thing?!” Alan splutters. And then he bursts out laughing and Virgil wants to glare because he’s exhausted and his head is throbbing and there’s an anxious wriggle in his chest that keeps poking at his limbs.

But he also thought for one terrible moment yesterday that he wouldn’t get to hear that laugh again. The relief is infectious.

It never takes much to set Gordon off, but cracking Scott is a true victory, because for a second, the lines around his eyes crinkle with something other than stress.

Alan sets himself up with pancakes (far too smug that he’s allowed the chocolate spread on his where Virgil was only allowed syrup), and plonks himself down on Virgil’s right, bandaged arm and all. Whilst Gordon and Alan quarrel over species of tropical fish, Scott looks over at Virgil, raising his eyebrows. Are you okay? it says.

Virgil smiles and nods.

Inevitably, Scott and Gordon are called away on a rescue, just as Alan has grown tired of the nature documentary and is demanding something more exciting. Virgil consents to the first movie Alan picks out, because he’s too busy watching Gordon fly his beloved ‘Bird away with an expert hand.

God, he’s so tired. His limbs are heavy and aching from the tension of holding them in place all night and his head pounds in beat with his too-fast heart..

He’s utterly exhausted. If only his mind could get the memo. Instead it careens between thought processes: the grapple lines, his failed calculations, the disaster zone he’s left the workshop in -

It doesn’t matter though.

Because Alan’s alive and that’s all that matters.

Alan, whose gentle hand snakes through Virgil’s hair in a tender, soothing way that plucks at the knot of anxiety in Virgil’s chest, whose ministrations are a blessed, momentary pain relief for his sore head.

*****

It’s dark when he wakes, though he doesn’t remember his overwrought brain finally giving into sleep. His limbs no longer feel like they’re spasming out of control and his head aches with a more manageable pain, but he’s still drained. On the floor next to him, Alan is snoring at the centre of a nest of blankets - at least two of which Virgil is sure were wrapped around himself before...

He raises his head to look for his water glass, and nearly jumps out of his skin at the sight of his oldest brother standing in the shadows, watching. He’s still in his uniform, which suggests Thunderbird One just docked - presumably her engines through the open patio doors are what woke him.

“What the fuck, Scott?” he hisses.

“Sorry,” Scott says, though he doesn’t sound particularly apologetic. He moves into the light, and repositions Alan so that he can rescue one of the blankets for Virgil once more. “Go back to sleep.”

“Did the rescue go okay?” Virgil asks instead, relieved at Scott’s easy nod - and relatively clean, dry appearance.

“Gordon’s heading back now, all good. And no issues with grapples today, thank God.” Scott’s voice is low but Virgil still flinches from it.

“I’m going to find out what happened, Scott, I swear -”

“I know you will.” Scott’s voice is so firm, so strong that it momentarily steals Virgil’s breath how much faith Scott has in him. "I know you’ll figure it out, Virg. But you don’t have to do it on your own. You and Brains will work on it and find a solution, John’s going to identify the person responsible, and EOS will make sure they can never do it again. But it’ll be when you haven't overdosed on caffeine. Do you understand?”

It’s the kindest of reprimands. The same kind of pleading why won’t you just take care of yourself tone that Virgil finds himself using more and more on Scott these days, but with so much understanding and love, Virgil finds himself blinking back tears.

He can only nod and Scott steps back. “I’m going to go shower. Get some rest, Virgil.”

Scott turns to leave and Virgil forces himself to muster up his barely replenished energy reserves. He snags Scott’s sleeve, “Scott - thank you.”

Scott smiles a smile that’s just them, soft and trusting and concerned. “God knows you’ve looked after me through far worse hangovers than this. But don’t you dare do this again, Virg. I mean it. Don’t make me confiscate all the coffee on the island, because you know I’ll do it if I have to.”

“I know you will.”

Scott runs a hand through Virgil’s messy waves fondly, letting his hand rest at the nape of his neck where the headache pain is regrouping. “Sleep, Virg.”

And he does.