#it's more like 'i recognise i feel discomfort at this but i'm okay because i know

[not-poignant]

I was wondering, what does Anton think about efnisien and flitmouse sharing a nest what with ef being an alpha and feeling like one the majority of the time? does he mind?

Hi anon,

I think Anton struggles with it the same way most alphas do, the same way Gary does when he knows that Efnisien seeing Anton or Temsen is good for Efnisien, and needs to happen, but also kind of chafes or feels physically uncomfortable at the same time.

Anton is relatively low on the possessiveness scale, so he can handle it better than some, but he still definitely feels it, and I'd say he like, aggressively scents Flitmouse afterwards, and makes sure Flitmouse knows he belongs to Anton.

It's one of those 'I recognise this is good for my partner and I want the best for him, however my instincts really aren't having a good time with this, but I'm a grown-ass adult so I can manage it in a mature way.' And that's basically what he does!

[accioprocrastination]

One Day At A Time (part 8/?)

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Hangman's POW fiancée goes home

T/W: death, anxiety, panic disorder, PTSD, POW, gun violence, hints to torture

a/n: sorry I know this one took forever - I was finally back on annual leave this week so here we go again!!

Masterlist

Last part in case you missed it

Both of you stand dumbfounded - silently staring at each other like the other person will disappear if you look away.

You break the daze and step forward slightly but the tray in Jake's arms prevents you getting any closer to each other. Not presuming it's yours and not feeling as familiar with him as you once were, you don't take it from him.

Jake feels momentary shock at the fact you seem so incredibly reserved compared to how he remembers. If this was a normal deployment, you'd just grab the food from him and harass him with kisses while he'd pretend to hate the attention.

"Are you hungry?" Jake asks trying to break the sudden tension between you. "Javy made you some food." He steps around you slightly to place it down on your dresser.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here. I was at the hospital." He states needing you to know that he was trying to find you. 

"I'm tired." You respond not acknowledging his statement, nor the fact that you can't remember the last time you ate.

"That’s okay, I already asked the others to leave so you can rest. They'll be out of our hair in a minute." Jake smiles slightly turning back to face you now that the tray is out of his hands. 

You don't reciprocate the smile instead you're giving him an inquisitive look that he can't read. He glances over you for the hundredth time in the last five minutes and finally takes in your obvious discomfort: your shoulders are practically up to your ears. 

"Please don't feel any pressure to say yes because I know that everywhere probably hurts right now, but can I hug you?" Jake queries.

"You don't need to ask that." You respond quietly. 

I do have to ask because don’t know where we stand anymore. Jake thinks to himself as he wraps his arms tightly around you. 

White hot pain scorches your body as your bruises connect with his torso. You close your eyes in an effort to disguise your pain from Jake before you hug him back.

Your body trembles slightly in the effort it takes, so you lower the broken arm back against your side while still having your good arm around him.

"I missed you like crazy." He admits lessening his grip slightly. 

"I missed you too." You echo.

Jake feels his lip wobble in relief that you're home a second before tears start freely falling down his face.

"I can't believe you're here." Jake's talks into your hair, voice progressively cracking the more he talks.

You feel one of his hot tears run down your own cheek before he breaks the hug to retrieve something from his pocket.

“They gave me this in the hospital, I figured you might want it back.” He says taking your hand gently to pass you your locket. 

“Thank you.” You whisper.

She's quieter than normal. Jake observes, continuing to make mental comparisons between the you he remembers and the you in front of him.

“You’re welcome.” He responds tucking a stray hair behind your ear while you wipe the relentless tears from his face with your thumbs. 

"Everything still lo-" you abruptly stop talking and visibly jump as Javy slams the front door shut behind himself.

“That's just the others going. Coyote wouldn't be able to shut a door quietly if his life depended on it." he touches your arm to try and assure you that you’re perfectly safe.

The smile drops from his face and Jake cringes at his own poor choice of words. 

Jake you fucking idiot. Why would you say that to her? He mentally chastises himself.

"Please can I have 5 minutes alone?" You ask Jake, deciding not to finish whatever you were going to tell him before.

He is taken aback by the request and doesn't recognise it for what it really is - an act of autonomy from someone who has spent 4 years with none.

"You don't want to talk?" He raises an eyebrow in question.

"No. I want to be alone." You respond feeling too overwhelmed by everything to begin digesting anything that has happened while you were apart.

Jake feels his heart drop to his feet and has a horrifying realisation. He is feeling awkward around for you for the first time since you met.

"Oh... Okay. Shout if you need anything and I'll come back in a bit yeah?" He tries to play the situation down, dropping his eyes to the floor to try and avoid you seeing the devastation cross his face.

In doing so he misses the tears that flood your eyes.

*

Jake heads to the living room and calls Javy. He would call his sister, but he doesn't have enough energy to explain everything again.

Javy answers on the second ring.

"Everything okay?" Javy asks clearly in the car with the rest of the squad talking in the background.

"No." Jake whispers with his voice already broken.

She doesn't love me anymore. Jake's internal monologue screams as he worries, picturing your face telling him to leave you alone.

"Keep your shit together Seresin." Phoenix shouts in the background.

Jake laughs slightly and pre-emptively wipes under his eyes before he divulges them.

"She said she missed me, but she doesn't even want to be in the same room as me." He explains quietly not really caring who's listening to this, as long as you're not in earshot.

"You need to give her some time Jake." Phoenix says calmly.

"Do you think it will go back to normal?" he practically pleas.

Jake closes his eyes putting his head back against the couch, dreading the answer that's to follow.

"Yes." Javy answers without taking any time to think it through.

"Jake, you need to take a step back... She's spent four years not knowing that she'd ever come home." Phoenix pauses momentarily. "I can't even imagine the mindset that would put you in but it's the opposite of domestication."

He lets out a shaky sigh.

She's right.

"Ghost died on the way out of there and I think the Navy is going to put her through the wringer for that as well.” He rambles unsure of what to do about that.

"Ghost died?" Javy questions voice cracking slightly.

"Yeah. I'm sorry, I know you were friends." Jake tells him, rubbing his neck protectively as he thinks of that happening.

"Shit." Fanboy says.

"At least they had each other for those years. Neither of them had to go through that alone." Rooster remarks.

Everyone is silent for an uncomfortable amount of time before Jake speaks up. "I don't know how to make this situation any better?" He poses the statement as a question.

"You can't always talk yourself out of a situation Hangman." Rooster remarks as Jake's eyes flit to the empty staircase.

Tags:

@inthestars-underthesun

@rainy-darling

@emma8895eb

@tgmreader

@ems-alexandra

@djs8891

@els-marvelvsp

@lets-turn-and-burn

@mxdi0

@notaceventura

@boisewaffles

@yourgirlypop

@pinewoodgatesfarm

[vimbry-moved]

this post is a bad idea, but social media comments branding random strangers autistic are so uncomfortable. and it's Not because there should be any shame in autism, which is I fear is what it sounds like to others when you vocalise this discomfort - it's that making large assumptions about people, such as armchair diagnosing them w/ disorders they might not even have, is generally just personal and rude. and, unless they choose to publicly share this information about themselves, it's not our business if they even are.

and... personally, even if someone Is openly autistic, I think pathologising everything they do is obnoxious and occasionally infantilising. I've seen responses, no word of exaggeration here, that are like "look at this autistic little freak!" about people appearing to stim or react to sound or something - and it's like, you know that's not okay! that's something best said about yourself, not others.

these comments often come from a place of good intentions, too, because the person leaving them recognises what might be shared traits in someone else and is enjoying the moment of kinship. to them, it's a positive. and I'm glad it's a positive, because growing up "different" in any time before, honestly, the past decade or so before people become a little more educated really sucked. the extent of autistic representation in the mainstream was... like, what, rain man and sheldon? lmao

but there's also a persistent stigma around being called autistic that, let's be honest, does not make people consider it a compliment outside certain communities on the internet - and even then, only when the traits are relatable and cute. I'm sorry, but that's the reality of autistic acceptance a lot of the time; even in online space that claim they are accepting only are when the symptoms are palatable or tolerable.

again, I'm not saying that's a good thing, but you can understand why that might be perceived as a rude remark. someone might not associate this comment with, "you do this thing I do, I feel seen and I think you're cool," it's essentially pointing at someone on the street and going "you're different, you're weird, and everyone can tell!"

[pomegrnteseed]

it's all political, babe

people use the phrase 'we live in a society' a lot, but i'm going to use it here too; fandom is not removed from the society we live in. fandom is a reflection of the society, because it is members of society that make up fandom. just like the internet is not unbiased because people built it and people use it, fandom is not unbiased because people create within it.

you may not wish to interrogate your biases, your beliefs, your ideologies, your opinions while engaging with fandom, but that does not mean that those things are not working subconsciously or overtly in the choices you make when you read fics or enjoy artwork.

dhr is especially political. i said it in a tweet the other day, but draco lucius malfoy was the child of supremacists, raised to espouse fascist ideology. he was radicalised, he was a child soldier, he was groomed. for draco fans to claim that they engage apolitically is nonsense. i hate most everything joanne rowling stands for, but she was writing a book about fascism that was (riddled with problematic ideas and language, but) an accessible route for younger readers to understand the realities of supremacist notions of heritage and ethno-centric belonging. in other words, voldemort and his followers' obsession with parentage, with blood, with purity - it's the same thing hitler and the nazis were obsessed with. and their methods were the same too - ostracise, eradicate, overpower. sound familiar?

to divorce yourself so wholly from the reality of israel's ongoing genocide in palestine is to side with the oppressor. genocide relies on complicity via silence - to say nothing is to suggest it's okay. to argue that x isn't political or y isn't that deep is to fundamentally, forcefully turn away. you need to stop flinching. wokeness isn't a fun term to bandy around, it comes from Black american activism - it's time to wake up to the reality of the situation.

dhr fandom will remain political because it was based in a universe of politics. it catalogued the catastrophic outcomes of weak governments (cornelius fudge may you burn in hell), of fascist leaders (fuck you a million times over umbridge), of apathetic masses, of complicit media, of the power of public perception. it's far from the best example of these things where fictitious representations are concerned, but these things are literally woven into the entire narrative of the harry potter series. to say you don't want to see it is to contort your logic so brutally that i cannot in good faith see anything but wilful ignorance and a whole lot of internalised discomfort.

it's okay to not feel good about the things you like reading. it's okay to recognise that fiction is a fantasy land for paper dolls to smash. but it's not okay to pretend that these fantasy worlds are not founded in realities, are not reflected in the geopolitical status of the world now and historically. it's not okay to decide it's not for you because fascism affects us all. the state of the us, the uk, and europe in particular is fucking terrifying. read the news - far right ideologies are gaining more than 10% of the public vote at elections. fascism means ultranationalism (hatred of imagined Outsiders), suppression of opposition, dictatorship, militarised governance. it's literally happening around us. we are living it. and that's terrifying. it's natural to be scared. to want to flinch. to want to escape and pretend.

but you can't escape into dhr fandom and pretend that those exact same things aren't the lifeblood of dlm's backstory. that's a dissonance you cannot afford to grow.

if you look at some of the most read dhr fics: Manacled; The Auction; Secrets and Masks; From Wiltshire, With Love - they deal with the politics of war, of fascist ideology, of violence. The are also love stories, they are stories of hope, they are detailed depictions of how much we lose in the fight against hate.

we cannot have our cake and eat it too. we cannot say we are not getting involved in discussions of genocide that affect us all, because these discussions determine the world order. while we remain silent, we allow our governments to pretend their inaction is the will of the people. while we're silent, we give them a scapegoat; us. we cannot sit idly by and wait for someone else to come along. isn't that one of the characteristics we love most about hermione jean granger? her endless capacity for love (not mushy love, but active, hard-won love that forces people to keep going, that moves mountains with its sheer strength). hjg is a beacon for a lot of us in that way, never stopping after the war with her fights for the rights of all creatures, critters and magical folk. she's righteous. she's horrified by injustice. and if we say we love her, the idea of her, this pervasive fanon notion of her unrelenting fight for a better world, how can we not be moved into acting the same way? how can we read the works of others who have clearly noticed the themes and used this fandom as a vehicle for exploring the nature of fascism, the kernel of undying hope, and still refuse to acknowledge the realities these stories draw on and reflect?

i don't think we can in good faith.

living in a world embroiled in war, fascism, power struggles is exhausting. and we do come to fandom to escape. but we also come to fandom to share and learn and collectively despair and hope. we can't have nice things while we peddle the lie that fandom is apolitical, because it does those who gift us their hearts and souls in fics and fanart a huge disservice. it's not just paper dolls doing horny things. it's not just a romance story for the ages. it's real lives and real fears and real stakes. please treat it as such.

[tappingintodeepertruth]

Synthesis

I know myself as a runner.

Not because I'm particularly fast.

Just that I run from my past.

Nothing unheard of.

So always I'm on the look for a way out.

And I still subscribe to that basic idea.

But.

Maybe there turned a lever inside of me that thinks that shifting my weight to the attempt of making a bond work, might in fact make a difference.

So I try.

I'm a clinger, too.

I hold on too long and make things work that are beyond their past time.

I over-balance on my part as the half doesn't give a flying frog dancing like a fish on a line.

I learn to let go.

And with that I learn to balance.

What I learnt is that the universe does balance for me in one way or the other, if I truly cannot,yet.

I am learning to stay with the discomfort.

I'm wondering of I'll get to learn to leave from my own impulse, if a boundary is crossed.

I tie myself to illusions

And don't want to see the real painful consequences.

I build on flying castles as not to suffer in the abyss of my wrenching little heart that i tried to put to silence.

How to surrender.

1.Notice cognitive dissonance.

Where belief within you meets contradictory conviction.

The small cage of the chicken is miserable.

I hate it. I hate being with the chicken.

Seeing them hurt and full of their own shit.

I am not skilled or confident enough to build another coop. Right now is not the time.

Yet, I love eggs.

So I enjoy what they offer.

And having them here at least promises them not being injected with hormone.

Yet, their way of living is still by far from ideal as to free my conscience. Which I am not contributing to relieving as of yet.

2.Feel the pain and the conflict.

Allow it to rub off its edges. Allow it to hurt in all the right places.

2 1/2

Feel like crying? Go for it. Might actually reluebe some stress and help you think more clearly. Feel.anger? Move to step 3

3. Experiment with one side or another. Remove the inner shame and judgement. I trust my inner compass.

Would I be okay living without eggs?

When not living here and with less stress and easier access to low effort food: yes.

But that demands finding safe food that are healthy enough and easy to grab, when in low energy.

I still don't believe in condemning unhealthy as it counts for me at least as an attempt to provide nurture, which I want to recognise.

But still something to consider for sure.

With all the stress here that's out of question anyway. No chance!

So now I know that eggs are vital to me under current conditions.

4. Compromise.

Try to integrate from both what you enjoy so that you are energized in a balanced way.

I want eggs. I choose eggs. But I still feel guilty about the chicken. And with their coop in winter positioned so high and me being tiny, it's ever so much more exhausting.

So what can I do in a week of chicken care?

Take on the laundry task to have control over my need of cleaning what grosses me out.

Take on very few other tasks so I can concentrate on learning to be more okay with the task.

Provide access to cleaning gloves and shoes.

Provide access to shower.

Then allow chicken to walk longer than asked for.

And keep in mind to either never ever hold chicken myself or at least build a coop that I can take care of with my size.

With that I can be okay enough.

[bronze-bell]

As Victor wakes up, he is greeted by the sight of one very, very sleepy Aesop, the embalmer fighting his body dragging him down, his body jolting him upright whenever he fell too far. The sensation of shivering brings him into focus, a body still so cold and yet very much alive.

That small expression of discomfort shook Aesop more than he cared to admit, the worry that he didn't do things as well as he could have, should have, spreading throughout his bloodstream. He wanted so badly to hide, but he couldn't afford to leave, not when movement appeared so difficult for Victor. He had to be there, at least until his friend recovered.

Eyes frantically searched the room for some blankets to alleviate the cold, even just for right now, even as his blurring vision caused him to miss what was right in front of him and his failing thoughts convinced him that it would be over if he let go. Frantic, fearful apologies and words of reassurance poured out of Aesop, as he knew this feeling was because of him. Because of what he just did. "I- I'm so sorry... for all this...... I'm right here... y-you're back... it'll be okay..."

How desperate he was to not be alone. How desperate he was to know whether Victor still trusted him. Loved him.

Words are suddenly spinning in Victor's ears and before he can properly process them, the warmth is gone and he is alone in his small world of coldness. It's probably just for a few seconds, logically, but right now all of his logic is trying to claw it's way back up from under layers of death, so he makes a pitiful noise and awkwardly curls into himself instead.

He feels distinctly alone, like he's been left here to be fed to some danger with no defense. His companion's voice was shaky, worried, even through its softness, and Victor finds his once-held arm trying to find the place they once stood. Soon it drops, limp, hopeless, lonely.

Then there's the sensation of something being pulled around him, and the touch is enough to help his heaviness a little. It doesn't make him any lighter, but as he's moved by his companion and he's buried within it, he feels like he doesn't have to force himself to move as much. Maybe his thoughts are echoing the words of his friend. They have nice words. Pretty, easy to listen to.

He opens his eyes a little, and can see nothing but vague colours and shapes, but it's enough to recognise the man. Aesop is safe, a haven in this scary place, and Victor's expression is fond as he closes his eyes again. Good. If he's soft, docile, sweet like this, then Aesop won't leave again.

He's still not warm, as the blankets are unable to reflect heat that he doesn't have back to him, but he doesn't feel like he's going to float away anymore.

It's wonderful.

[persephoneacts]

“Okay, y’know what? I usually hate when customers ask me for recommendations. It’s like fuck, Debra, I don’t know your life. But you look like you might keel over if I don’t put you out of your misery, and I don’t need you dying on me and for people to start thinking I'm the Ted Bundy of the Baking industry.” 

She flashed him a smile, making it clear that for all intents and purposes she was joking. Persephone had a penchant for sarcasm, her dry humour usually going amiss as people stared back at her like she was the rudest, most uncivilised individual they’d ever encountered. Admittedly, that was probably also true, but she didn’t think it had anything to do with her sense of humour. 

“Anyway, the vegan brownies. They’re vegan, so it’s unlikely they’ll kill you, though I guess you’ll just have to take my word on that,” she shrugged. Turning on the spot, Persephone retrieved a still-warm plate of the brownies in question, sliding them on top of the glass display to give him a better view. “And they’re salted caramel, too. I know that’s probably considered kinda basic, but they’re sorta the best. Like, my literal kryptonite.” 

Pausing, she mulled over that analogy, lips curling into a pout as she begrudgingly thought of Billy and the way that he used to chastise her whenever she misused comic book terms. She’d leafed through pages of Wonder Woman and Black Cat comics back in her teens, muddling the two universes up much to the dismay of her older cousin. She’d enjoyed them, but not enough for them to leave a lasting impression, and she tended to avoid things that reminded her of her family these days. Still, an incessant niggling in the back of her mind told her that now was exactly the time to be pedantic. 

“Well, I mean that in a makes-me-so-weak-that-I-keep-going-back-for-more way, and not in a you’re-gonna-die-an-untimely-death-if-you-eat-these weakness type of way,” she clarified, cringing at the sound of her own voice. She sounded like such a nerd, all of a sudden. 

In truth, Persephone made a habit out of not engaging too much with customers – the idea of prolonged conversation with a middle-aged man while he bought shortbread in abundance genuinely made her skin crawl a little. Yet, the more the man in front of her rambled on, the more amused she was. She found it strangely entertaining to watch him trip over himself, wishing for the ground to swallow him hole, seemingly incapable of just not talking. 

His introduction somehow felt entirely on brand while also deeply confusing. Though Persephone didn’t really care what his name was, amusement got the better of her as she laughed at the visible way that Bradley seemed to shed himself of any last semblance of dignity that might have remained. 

“Thank you for that dazzling introduction, Bradley by the way,” she grinned.  

Persephone wasn’t really in a habit of handing out her name to strange men – or anyone, for that matter. Be it at work or a random party she’d been dragged to, it always left her with an unsettled feeling lodged in the pit of her stomach. If people didn’t already know who she was – immediately eyeing her with a look of either intrigue or open disgust – they normally pieced things together when she dropped the P word. If the look on Bradley’s face when he’d first gotten to the front of the queue was anything to go by, he definitely already recognised her – unless he’d just been staring because he found her hot, but she somehow doubted that. She could only assume his nervous disposition had something to do with his growing discomfort at being stuck in her presence. 

Unsure how to broach the topic of her name – she didn’t want the entire store hearing her – she tapped absently at the name badge on her apron, drawing his attention to the cursive scrawl that read Sephy. She’d begged to have her nickname down as her identifier and, with the insistence that her full name would only bring the establishment negative attention, it hadn’t been a difficult battle to win. 

“You can call me Seph. Or Sephy, or... Rando Girl Who Served You At Whisk and Wonder,” she shrugged, keeping her voice low.  

It felt strange talking to Bradley. Persephone wasn’t really in the habit of making friends these days. And usually, when she did, it was either an introduction through another friend, or a random encounter at some rager that Maggie or Charlie had pulled her along to. She was entirely out of practice, feeling like a fish out of water. What if he thought she was flirting? Was she flirting? God. Had she really sunk so low that her taste in men had been reduced to weirdly sexy nerd with too much limb to make sense of? 

“So, how about that brownie?” 

He wasn’t sure what he’d been hoping to achieve with the Ted Bundy rant, but as far as results went, it could have been a lot worse than the blonde staring at him like he’d just spoken Klingon to her. At the very least, she hadn’t immediately picked up the phone to call the cops on him, so he supposed that was a win.

“Yeah, super bad,” he agreed, faintly.

If Maia could see him now, she’d probably die of embarrassment. He glanced over his shoulder to where his little sister had found them both a table, a group of pouting teenage girls giving her the stink eye as she tapped away at her phone, completely oblivious. Knowing exactly how Maia could be, Bradley could only surmise that she’d stuck her elbows out and gotten scrappy when trying to acquire the table for them. God, what a pair the two Prestwicks were: one of them waxing lyrical about Ted fucking Bundy and the other starting a turf war in the otherwise quaint little bakery.

When he eventually turned back to Persephone, there was a tight smile on his face as he waited for her to work her way around the realisation that the stick man come to life in front of her with a pistachio allergy had just ordered a dessert which was chock full of nothing but. As if it would somehow help her process the news quicker herself, he reached up with his hands to massage his own temples, eyes scrunched shut as he attempted to will away his impending headache. It had been a long fucking day, as most days were when a person woke up and remembered they were Actual Human Disaster Bradley Prestwick.

As Persephone briefly went over their inventory, not without pointing out that there were a number of sweets available that wouldn’t send him straight into anaphylactic shock, Bradley nodded in understanding.

“I mean, given everything that’s just happened in the past two minutes, it’s not like a death wish would be totally unwelcome right now, would it?” he pointed out with a small sigh.

Scratching the back of his head as he surveyed the range of desserts that wouldn’t immediately kill him, he felt a little helpless as he stared through the glass. He felt like he’d suddenly lost his appetite but not ordering something seemed out of the question.

“Uh, what do you recommend?” he asked. “Just so you know, I’m sort of… dairy intolerant as well. But I can push through. I can eat something made with milk and not like, need an Epipen, so whatever you have that sells the best just… throw it right at me. Not literally! Or you can. If you want. I’ve probably earned that.”

He pressed a hand over his mouth again as if to physically prevent any more word vomit. However, as soon as he dropped his hand back by his side after roughly chafing the space between his thumb and forefinger against his lips, the unthinking, mindless admissions didn’t stop.

“I’m Bradley, by the way,” he introduced himself. Maybe she needed it for the order. Probably not though. Why the fuck did he think she wanted to know his name?

[notsuchacleverboyq]

00Q No Time to Die AU

Alternative No Time to Die ending (happy ending)

Alternative No Time to Die ending in which the nanobots were programmed for Q, but Bond survives and Q-branch takes care of them.

Because James Bond doesn't die and we know that; Q could have done something to deactivate those nanobots and we are completely sure about it.

Also, we needed to do something with that Bond / Madeleine thing (sorry for the ones who like them).

Green rated (just a bloody long work).

Bond didn't expect to see white as the first thing his eyes caught when he woke up; he had always expected hell to be dark and cold (because there was no place in heaven for him), but in that moment he felt rather relaxed and warm.

His body wasn't actually responding to his commands (not that he expected to still have a body after what had happened) and his limbs felt dizzy and slow, as if he had been frozen in time.

He gained the sense of his body gradually, in what felt like hours to him but what probably less than a minute.

The situation became even stranger as he realised to be lying over a soft surface, something light and gentle caressing his hand. It was then that Bond saw the person sitting on a chair next to the bed he was resting on: Q looked like he hadn't slept in ages and was looking down on the mattress as he held Bond's hand, struggling to keep his eyes open.

He was alive, Bond realised with an enormous and frightening confusion.

He wasn't supposed to be alive, and Q wasn't supposed to touch his hand.

In instinct, Bond tried to pull his hand away from Q's, giving a low groan in discomfort at the realisation that he couldn't move as fast as he had planned to. Damn the morphine.

He saw Q freezing at the small flinch his hand gave and actually tried to talk as the quartermaster gave the agent a tired and relieved smile.

Despite his huge effort, all that came came out of Bond's mouth at first was a soundless gasp, words not forming.

At the second attempt, Bond was becoming restless, startled by not being able to communicate with Q.

- Hey, there's no need to panic: you're in the hospital - Q tried to reassure him, but Bond's concern was a totally different one.

- You... don't touch my hand - the agent managed, aware of how weak his voice sounded.

The small smile Q gave should have reassured Bond that everything was alright, however he moved away as the quartermaster reached for his cheek.

- It's deactivated, it does no harm - Q explained softly and Bond gave a relieved breath.

Q knew about the nanobots, knew they were for him, and Bond would have kissed him right away for saving the situation and being so incredibly smart. Closing his eyes for a few seconds, Bond let himself seek the familiar coldness of the quartermaster's hand, giving a content sound as he felt him caressing his cheek.

- I'm okay. You are okay - Q whispered, tracing circles all over Bond's cheek.

Trying to take a better look at Q, he attempted to sit up or at least get into a better position, but froze when Q got immediately alert.

- Don't move! You broke your back! - he warned him and Bond stopped moving immediately.

With a loud puff, he went back staring at the ceiling, but actually reached for Q's hand.

- And you're missing a leg - the quartermaster muttered, getting the agent's attention immediately.

- I'm missing a leg?! - Bond asked, more surprised and startled than he had ever thought he would have been.

Q nodded and grumbled in affirmation, resting his free hand where Bond's right leg should have been.

- Yeah, it was... badly damaged - Q explained.

Blinking a few times as he observed Q's hand sink in the in the blanket with an uncomfortable expression, Bond closed his eyes at the realisation that there actually was no sign of his right leg.

- We're planning on a prothesis - Q said and the agent recognised his attempt in making him feeling better.

- How am I even here? - Bond asked as he opened his eyes, keeping his confusion and nervousness from getting his voice harsh.

- You never took a direct hit: the building collapsed below you...you were saved by the rubble - Q explained, looking down again as he did so.

Bond did not answer, conscious about how lucky he had been (for umpteenth time) and was likely running out of said luck.

- The nanobots could be deactivated - Q muttered, playing with Bond's fingers.

- Why didn't you tell me? - the agent asked, knowing by how the quartermaster raised his eyes that he had definitely said the wrong thing.

- Maybe because I didn't know. Do you think I would have let you get yourself killed? - Q snapped raising his voice.

Bond immediately regretted saying those words in the moment he saw the tears in Q's eyes, tears that he was desperately trying to hold back; Q was tired, stressed and had probably been too worried recently.

He should have never made him feel accused like that.

- Come here - Bond said gently, using that bit of mobility he had gained to try and draw Q closer.

The quartermaster didn't protest, lowering himself next to Bond and only hesitated in the moment the agent wrapped his arms around him; not worrying for his own broken back, Bond got Q to lay on the hospital bed with him, the younger man immediately relaxing with a shaking sigh.

- I'm sorry: it wasn't your fault at all - Bond whispered, feeling Q shudder in his arms.

- M knew about it - the quartermaster muttered, his voice breaking at the end of the sentence.

Bond gave a displeased groan.

- He thought you would have died even if he had told us - Q continued.

By that moment Bond was boiling in rage: M going without mentioning said detail and Q suffering because of the consequence of it were enough for him to develope a murderous sentiment towards his boss; however, Q was more important than that in that moment, he was more important than anything else.

He would have dealt with M in a second moment.

- He was wrong: I'm here and I'm not leaving - Bond assured Q, running his fingers in his curls (he had had the chance to learn how much Q liked that).

- Don't make a promise you can't keep - Q groaned and sniffed, but didn't move.

- I'm serious - Bond replied.

- What about Madeleine? - Q asked then, and Bond had to admit to have been caught off of guard.

- ... I'll talk to her - the agent decided, to which Q have a hum, not sounding convinced.

Bond didn't force the argument any further and was about to ask Q when was the last time he had slept (even thought he knew the answer) when somebody knocked at the door.

The quartermaster immediately pulled away, back on his feet, and Bond damned his lack of strength when Q slid away so easily.

The door opened slowly and Madeleine entered the room, Mathilde in her arms. Bond didn't miss Q's sharp sigh, immediately turning to look at him and realising he couldn't reached for his hand.

- I'll leave you. Get better soon, Bond - Q quickly said, turning to leave immediately.

- Q - Bond called, but the quartermaster didn't listen.

- Q! - Bond tried again, but the quartermaster had already left.

∆

- He's not going to wait for you in eternity -

Time had passed and Bond was struggling with the prothesis, but he still had not talked with Madeleine. It wasn't easy, he had found out, every time he had tried to bring up the argument something had stopped him.

- He has waited far too long -

Bond puffed at Moneypenny, knowing that she was utterly right.

- You need to talk with Madeleine - Eve said, to which Bond stopped walking (in his umpteenth attempt to learn how to walk on his new leg).

- It's not a nice argument - he replied.

- Just be honest - Moneypenny grumbled.

- And what should I say? "Look, I've been fucking my quartermaster and was too naive to admit that I had loved him even before you and me met"? - Bond snapped.

- Yes, actually - Moneypenny answered, to which Bond gave an annoyed look.

The woman grumbled loudly.

- Simply tell her that you misunderstood your feelings for her - Moneypenny said.

- And how do I explain what happened with Q? - Bond asked.

- She's probably already noticed - Eve replied with a shrug.

Bond gave a grumble in agreement, sitting down on a near chair with a puff.

- But I don't want to leave Mathilde - he admitted and found Moneypenny looking at him with a soft smile.

- You don't have to - she replied and Bond stayed silent, looking down.

- Just talk to her - Moneypenny said.

Bond gave an absent nod, already feeling too anxious about that. He had never been good with words.

∆

He took the chance the next time Madeleine came to pay a visit, and luckily Mathilde wasn't with her.

- We need to talk - Bond told her, suddenly serious.

- I think so too - Madeleine agreed and surprised the agent with that statement.

Bond desperately searched for the right words, not knowing where to start; there were lots of thing he could have said: tell her he didn't love her as he had thought, admit what had happened with Q, beg for her to not get mad (probably the worst choice of words ever); there was so much he could have said.

- How long have you two been having an affair? - Madeleine suddenly asked, which caused Bond to stiff on the bed he was sitting on.

But she wasn't mad nor accusing him of cheating, the agent noticed thanks to a scan of her expression and posture. Indeed, she was more relaxed than him, almost resigned.

- Since I came back to London - Bond admitted.

Madeleine didn't answer, probably expecting some words from him. And so did Bond: he expected himself to talk, but no coherent thought was forming.

- Listen... it's just that, this...I'm sorry: it's not working, between you and me - he eventually managed, to which Madeleine nodded.

- It's evident: I don't trust you and you don't trust me. At least not as we should - she agreed.

Bond sighed, mentally thanking Madeleine for being better with words than; she had always been better at articulating thoughts.

- Could we try and he friends? - Bond asked her carefully.

- Yes, that's a good idea - Madeleine answered, smiling slightly.

Bond returned the smile and reached for her hand, caressing the soft skin of her palm.

- I'm sorry, for everything - he muttered, eyes locked on her hand.

- I forgive you. You're not a bad man - Madeleine murmured, returning the gentle caresses.

Bond found himself smiling thankfully, knowing that (even if she didn't trusted him) Madeleine for sure understood him.

- Can I ask you one last thing? - the agent questioned, his heartbeat raising in anxiety.

- Yes, but don't forget to breathe in the meantime - Madeleine said and chuckled.

Bond actually smiled at that, still focused on her hand.

- Can I still be Mathilde's dad? - he eventually asked, afraid.

Madeleine didn't answer right away, and that was scaring Bond more than anything he had ever faced so far. She looked out of the window for a moment, not a single reaction from her, nothing that Bond could read to anticipate the answer.

- She likes you. I think we could manage that - Madeleine decided.

- But do you want to? - Bond asked and Madeleine nodded.

- Yes, I've got nothing against it - she assured him with a smile.

- You're an angel - Bond immediately told her, not being able to help his bright smile when he leaned to give Madeleine a thankful hug.

She accepted the affection, stiffing in surprise before relaxing as she returned the hug.

- You'll be happy with him - she said, after they had parted.

- You think so? - Bond asked.

That was something he had hoped himself: to be finally happy with someone. Every time, it either ended up horribly or didn't turn out to be what Bond had thought; he had hoped to be finally at peace with Q and would have done anything for it to turn out right.

He just hoped that his effort would have been enough.

- I see how you look at him. You're relaxed around him - Madeleine answered and Bond could do nothing but nod.

∆

Bond went to Q's house as soon as he was allowed out of the hospital.

His walk was still sloppy but he managed it with a good amount of insistence and nervousness (because there was nothing worse than not being able to walk properly).

It took him five minutes to rang the bell when he got to Q's house, five minutes in which he stared at the door with short breath, completely motionless.

- Nice to see you again, Bond - was Q's greeting, together with one of his sharp smiles.

- May I come in? - the agent asked and stepped inside when Q moved to the side.

The house was still as tidy as he had left it, not a single thing had been moved, nothing had changed aside Q's mood: he looked defensive, alert, as if expecting to be attacked by Bond.

- Your things are still here, if you'd like to collect them and take them away - the quartermaster eventually broke the silence.

- I don't need to - Bond answered, getting more and more nervous since the discussion had been started.

- Then, enlighten me about your intentions, because I'm not a mind reader - Q snapped, crossing his arms to his chest.

Bond sighed, measuring his words carefully.

- I talked with Madeleine - he started.

Q seemed to relax gradually, listening to Bond with his full attention.

- And...we agreed on the fact that it wasn't working - he explained and Q nodded.

- So, you two are over? - the quartermaster asked.

- Officially - Bond affirmed.

He tried to read Q, noticing how he seemed to dwell on the agent's words with a thoughtful expression that didn't make Bond feel better at all.

- How do you know it's going to work? - Q asked, his voice low and relaxed, not defensive anymore.

Bond remained silent as the quartermaster exposed a weak side of the situation, something that the agent himself had wondered.

Could he be sure? He had lingered on said question for days and some answers had come to him, enough to give him a little bit of the confidence he seemed to have lost together with his right leg.

- It took me years to acknowledge that I was in love with you. It was different from other times, I didn't recognise the feeling - Bond started, feeling Q's gaze locked on him.

- Let me get this straight: you've been in love with me for years? - Q asked.

- Since the Gallery - Bond answered, to which Q pinched the bridge of his nose.

- And you didn't realise? - the quartermaster asked.

Bond shook his head in shame, knowing how ridiculous it sounded but knowing he had to be completely honest with Q.

- You left Madeleine, because you actually weren't in love with her - Q said, searching for a confirmation from Bond.

- It wasn't going to work: I didn't love her enough to trust her - Bond affirmed.

Q seemed to think about and then nodded slowly, sighing and letting his guard fall.

- I feel safe with you, I know I can always count on you. I trust you with my life - Bond continued.

- I'd be an horrible quartermaster otherwise - Q chuckled, influencing Bond in laughter.

- I'm sorry I made you feel like a replacement. It wasn't really like that - the agent said, reached for Q's cheeks, cupping his face in his hands.

- It hurt, James - Q muttered and Bond's heart gave a painful beat.

- It hurt when you left, when you went back to her...when you acted as if nothing had ever happened - Q continued, his voice sounding as painful as what he was feeling.

Bond claimed Q into his arms as he couldn't stand watching his hurt expression a second more, sighing happily at the feeling of finally holding his thin figure in his arms after a long time. The quartermaster wrapped his arms tightly around Bond's neck, resting his head on his shoulder.

- I didn't know how you felt about it - the agent explained, aware of the fact that it wasn't a good excuse.

- I felt great. It felt great to finally have you - Q whispered, caressing the short hair on Bond's neck.

- I really want this to work - Bond murmured.

- I really want it too - Q whispered in return, giving a heavy sigh before he spoke again - Are you really sure this is what you want? - he asked.

Bond understood that question, having had a past of disastrous romances made such a doubt totally legit; he couldn't blame Q, he didn't trust himself with it either.

- Yes, Quinny: this is what I want - he affirmed, pulling away the necessary to place a kiss on Q's forehead - I want you, your cats, your horrible cardigans... - Bond continued, smiling happily once Q laughed.

- James Bond, you're a disaster of a man - Q said with a smile and Bond could do nothing to complain.

Cupping Q's face in his hands again, Bond leaned to kiss him, losing himself in the feeling of those soft and thin lips that he had missed so much. It was a gentle kiss, despite how both of them were hungry for it, it was a kiss full of apologies, full of "I've missed you"; it was the most real emotion that Bond had ever felt, and he wanted all of it.

It was like coming back to life and now something finally made sense in his existence, at last there was something he couldn't doubt.

Q was the first to pull back, both of them gasping for air but smiling happily at eachother. Bond adjusted Q's glasses, which went askew in the kiss, gently pinching his nose and laughing as Q chuckled.

- I think there's something you need to know - Bond told him.

- Oh, my: what did you do this time? - Q asked, the smile fading.

- Nothing you don't already know - Bond chuckled.

- What is it, then? -

- I am co-parenting, with Madeleine. You obviously had to know, because it might happen that I take Mathilde over - Bond explained and didn't expect the excited smile that came in response.

- Really? - Q asked, looking far too pleased with it.

- You're happy? - Bond asked, surprised.

- Yes, I adore your daughter - Q answered.

Bond leaned to kiss Q's cheek with a bright smile, giving him a gentle squeeze in his arms.

- I'm glad you seem to be okay with it - he said.

- I'm totally okay with it - Q assured him.

They stayed like that, trapped in eachother's arms, not having any intention to break the contact any soon; for the first time, Bond was at ease with himself, nothing would have brought him to leave that wonderful man ever again.

He really had all the time in the world.

[helloalycia]

overstepping [one] // jane banner (Wind River)

summary: after getting several voicemails from your colleague and best friend with her asking for your backup, you attempt to call her back, only to get no answer.

warning/s: mentions of rape, murder and injuries.

author’s note: this is a two parter because i finally watched Wind River and it broke my heart but also lizzie was v cute and i felt the need to write this, hope you like it x

part two | masterlist | wattpad

"C'mon, work you stupid phone," I complained for the millionth time, before standing on the chair to get a better signal.

When I saw the bars in the corner of the screen increase, a grin appeared on my lips. I loved my parents, but the fact that they lived in a remote cabin in Tennessee with zero signal was not my favourite thing.

When the bars remained, my phone decided to actually be helpful and receive all the messages, calls and voicemails I missed. I did a brief flick through, noticing nothing was too important that couldn't wait for me to return to work. As an FBI agent, I rarely got time off. And now that I had taken a two month vacation to spend with my parents, I was adamant on enjoying it, even if I was missing work a smidge.

Next were the calls, which I noticed were mostly from my colleague and close friend, Jane Banner. I furrowed my brows, realising she'd left me several voicemails, too, which was strange since she knew I was on a break from work. What could be so important?

I sighed, glancing down at my uncomfortable position standing on the chair and leaning above the wardrobe. It was the only place in the house with decent signal and the only other place that wasn’t in the middle of nowhere was twenty minutes out. Telling myself I'd just listen to one voicemail to make sure everything was okay, I played the earliest message.

"Hey, Y/N. I'm sorry, I know you're on a break, but I just had to talk to you," it began, and Jane sounded troubled. "I was in Vegas, as you know, but I've been called out to a reservation in Wyoming where this poor girl was–" She paused, releasing a shaky breath. "She was raped and left to die out in the cold. I thought I could send in another team to take a look – y'know, usual protocol. But the coroner won't rule it a homicide and you know what that means."

I swallowed hard, knowing exactly what that meant. If it wasn't ruled a homicide, no backup would come and we had to move onto the next case. But if this girl was raped and left to die, the rapist was still out there and wasn't getting caught by the FBI.

"I can't just leave it and go," Jane continued quietly, with that recognisable passion for her job evident in her voice. "I have to do what I can. But I... I can't do this alone. It's not like other cases, Y/N. It's different out here. And there's only so much their police department can do. I know you're on a break, but I was hoping that, maybe, you could come out here and help me? It's the Wind River Indian Reservation. That's it, I guess. Bye."

The message ended and I found myself chewing on my lower lip anxiously, unable to think about anything other than Jane now. She'd worried me with that one voicemail alone – I couldn't imagine what the others said.

She was usually so good at dealing with cases, but this seemed different. She sounded shaken up, attempting to put on a brave face by the sounds of it. What was so different about this case? She didn't need me. She was capable.

Curiosity got the better of me and I played the second message, ignoring the discomfort in my arms as I stretched to maintain the signal. It was left a day after the first one.

"Hey, so I just remembered that you said you don't get much signal up there with your parents," she began apologetically. "I don't mean to– shit, it's so cold..." There was a pause, a noise in the background, then she continued, "Sorry, just turning up the heating. Anyway, I was saying. I don't mean to intrude on your break. I just– I'm hoping you'll find signal and hear this because I could really use your help. I think we've got a lead on who may have done it. It was hectic today. Really could've used that backup."

She chuckled dryly at her attempt at a joke, but all I felt was guilt. She sounded exhausted within a day of being there.

"I hope you get this," she finished with a sigh. "I should go. Got a busy day tomorrow. Hope you're doing okay. Bye."

I wasted no time in playing the next message. Three days into her case.

"I don't know why I keep sending these," she began with a hoarse voice, and my heart clenched at the sound of it. "You clearly aren't getting them in time. But it's easier talking to you like this than not at all."

It went quiet, so quiet that I thought she may have finished and forgot to hang up. But then she spoke up again, a whimper escaping her lips.

"It's so hard," she admitted. "We've covered worse cases, but this one... everything about it makes me uncomfortable. Something doesn't feel right. I've got a lead – we think it might be the boyfriend who did it and we're gonna see him tomorrow. But I don't know."

I frowned, squeezing my phone tightly because I didn't recognise the girl speaking as my friend. This girl sounded broken and I wondered what she could have discovered that made her like this.

"I've got the police department with me for backup," she said with a sniffle. "And Cory, he's a hunter whose been helping me with the case. They're all gonna be with me tomorrow. But I wish you were here, too. You always make things easier."

The lump in my throat wouldn't disappear no matter how many times I swallowed it. She made things easier, too. Always. And all I wanted to was be by her side and be there for her like she always was for me.

"Sorry about this," she said with a watery laugh, and I could imagine the embarrassed smile on her face as she did. "I sound like such an idiot. Never mind these messages. Just enjoy your break. I shouldn't be worrying you like this. See you when you get back."

The message ended and I checked to see if there were anymore, but to my disappointment, there wasn't. That message was from a few days ago and she hadn't sent anything since which was concerning in itself.

Trying not to panic for no reason, I called Jane. Hopefully everything was okay and I was being stupid. She was a fully-trained FBI agent. She could take care of herself. Right?

The call rang and rang, but nobody picked up. One missed call. No biggie. She probably heard it and couldn't find her phone or something. So, I tried again.

More ringing and no answer. Okay, no big deal. Just try again.

Another call and no answer. The chewing on my lip became more intense. Why the hell wasn't she picking up? Was she still working the case?

I waited an hour, trying again at ten minute intervals, unable to fight my concern. But there was no answer every time and I realised that I couldn't sit and wait for her to call back. Not after how she sounded in those voicemails.

No, I had to go there. She needed backup.

—

Wyoming was way colder than I could have prepared for.

I mean, technically, I prepared for nothing. I bid my parents a goodbye, threw some random clothes in a bag and caught the next plane over there. I tried for Jane's phone constantly, knowing she was never one to ignore me for this long, but there was no point. She wasn't answering, which could only mean so much.

When I reached the reservation, I had no idea where anything was or what I was looking for exactly. I just knew that as soon as the taxi dropped me off in the centre of town, I didn't know where to go.

There were a lot of locals hanging around, so my first port of call was to ask them if they'd seen Jane around – or Agent Banner, as she may have introduced herself. I showed them a picture of her on my phone, described her with vivid detail, but they just stared at me like I was crazy. I was starting to believe I was at one point, until I stopped by the convenience store.

As worried as I was for Jane's whereabouts, the chill in my bones was real. Especially my hands, which I was certain would fall off any minute. So, I decided to buy some gloves and also ask the cashier if he'd seen Jane around or heard anything of her. Whilst I was doing that, a customer caught my attention, probably having overheard my conversation.

"Did you say Jane Banner?" he asked with a quirked brow, interrupting my purchase. "The FBI lady, right?"

I nodded quickly, facing him. "Yes, that's her! D'you know where she is?"

He nodded casually. "Yeah, she's in the hospital. That big shootout that happened a few days ago, right?"

My stomach dropped. "The what?"

"The shootout," he repeated, not aware of the concern in my face. "At the drill site. A bunch of officers were killed and the FBI lady was one of the only one left standing." He tutted as he shook his head. "Very lucky that one."

A shootout? The hospital? Only one left standing? No wonder she hadn't been answering her calls.

"Can you– do you–" I stopped, clearing my throat and trying to stop freaking out. "Which hospital?"

After getting the address from him, I caught a taxi to the only hospital in town and prayed to God that Jane was okay. The one thing she'd asked for was backup and I couldn't even give her that. If I'd just looked at my messages sooner... fuck.

Getting past the front desk and to Jane's room was no issue at all. A quick flash of my FBI badge was enough for the receptionist to give me the details and wave me through. My heart was constricting in my chest the longer it took. What if it was really bad? What if that customer's intel was outdated and Jane was– no. I couldn't afford to think like that.

Upon finding Jane's room, I spotted an older man leaving through the door, being careful to close it behind him. I didn't recognise him at all.

"Excuse me," I called, earning his attention. "Is that Jane Banner's room you just came from?"

He seemed surprised, glancing over his shoulder to make sure I was speaking to him, before nodding. "Yes. Sorry, who are you?"

I pulled my badge from my pocket and showed him, though I doubted anyone would take me seriously when my eyes were watering at thought of Jane being severely injured.

"I'm her friend," I said, swallowing down the lump in my throat before lowering my badge.

"Oh, you're the backup that didn't come," he said with realisation.

My eyes flickered to the floor guiltily. He wasn't exactly wrong.

"I didn't mean it like that," he added quickly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

I shook my head, lifting my eyes to meet his. "It's okay. I should've... I should've been here." It went quiet as he didn't know what to say, so I looked to him halfheartedly. "I assume you're from the police department, one of the ones who helped Jane."

"Not exactly," he said, before putting out his hand for me to shake. "Name's Cory. I'm a hunter by trade."

Returning his handshake, I recalled Jane's voicemail. "Oh, yeah, she mentioned you... thank you for helping her out."

When I couldn’t, I added in my head.

He offered me a small smile and I couldn't find it in myself to return it. I must have looked like shit, since he gave me a pitiful gaze.

"You want me to catch you up before you go in?" he asked, nodding to Jane's door. "She's okay by the way."

I nodded, sucking up a breath. My nerves were eating away at me the longer I didn't see Jane – half of me was terrified of what I'd find, and the other half was afraid she'd be upset or angry because I left her to it, even when she pleaded for my help.

Cory and I took a seat down the hall and he proceeded to explain about the case and how they found the guy who raped that poor girl. The shootout was the worst bit, making me shiver with discomfort. Apparently, Jane had gotten blasted with a shotgun, puncturing her torso and neck despite the vest she wore. All of the officers with her were killed and by the sounds of it, Jane almost was, too. But Cory managed to take out the criminals and the rapist himself. When he was finished telling me, I had no words.

"She's a bit shaken up, but her surgery went well," Cory reassured with a short nod. "Does she know you're coming?"

I shook my head, voice thick with emotion. "She wouldn't answer her phone. I guess I know why now."

Cory nodded, rubbing the back of his neck before sparing me a consoling glance. "She talked about you a lot. I think it'll cheer her up seeing you. You should go."

My eyes met his, teary and stinging with unshed tears. "Thank you so much."

He shrugged bashfully, but he didn't realise all that he'd done. I gave him a small, tight smile before standing up with a sigh. No point dwelling anymore – I had to see her.

Pushing my selfish feelings aside, I sucked it up and approached Jane's room. She would either want to punch me or not, but either way, I had to see if she was okay. And so, when I opened the door slightly, heart racing in my chest, said heart jumped in my throat at the sight of her.

She was laying on the bed with wires stuck in her and, only from what I could see, bandages were covering the side of her neck. I thought she was sleeping at first, but then her head tilted towards the door curiously, and bright blue eyes widened with disbelief.

"Y/N?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "What are you– how did you get here?"

I closed the door behind me and hesitantly approached her bedside, unable to stop my eyes from soaking in the sight of her. She looked so feeble and vulnerable and unlike how I saw her last. Then, Cory's words came back to me and I began to imagine the worst scenario of her getting shot, blood seeping from her wounds, the life draining from her eyes...

"Y/N," she called, and I looked to her startlingly, hoping I didn't look as troubled as I felt.

"Sorry," I said, clearing my throat. "I, er– the messages. Voicemail. I heard them and tried calling you back, but..."

She pursed her lips, exhaling with a wince and looking up at the ceiling, as if suddenly remembering she left messages in the first place.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," I said quietly, guilt seeping back in.

"No, no, don't be," she said, and I just about noticed the pink dusting her cheeks. "It's not your fault. I shouldn't have interrupted your vacation like that. I know you said you wanted a break and–"

"Jane, no, don't even say that," I cut her off, reaching for her hand in an instant. She looked my way, eyes flickering between mine nervously. I squeezed her hand gently and said, "I should have been here. You needed me and I– I didn't come. Maybe if I had, this could have ended differently."

She tried to smile, but I could see the discomfort in her eyes. "It's not that bad, honestly. It just looks bad."

I pressed my lips together, eyes falling to the bandage on her neck. Even though it was big and covered her wound, I could still make out the bruising around it from the impact of the shell. I didn't imagine the torso wound looking any different, and that thought alone made me regret leaving her alone. It was very much as bad as it looked; I knew that and she knew that.

Her lips trembled as she avoided my eyes, her own tearing up. I pushed away my guilt momentarily and changed the subject.

"So, I met Cory. He seems like a great guy."

She didn't say anything as she seemed lost in thought. Either that or she was trying not to cry in front of me. I hoped it wasn't the latter, since the last thing I wanted was to make her feel uncomfortable.

"You know," I said, when she wouldn't speak, "I'm pretty sure I told you to stay safe before I left for my vacation."

At my poor attempt to lighten the mood, she cracked a small, tight smile, but a smile nonetheless, and my racing heart slowed down momentarily.

"I'm glad you're okay," I said, now that I had her attention again, and she looked my way with a softened expression. "Kind of okay. But you know... okay."

Thankfully, she knew what I meant and her hand tightened around mine.

"I'm glad you came," she returned, and I couldn't look away even if I tried. She was always able to trap me with a single gaze.

With a tug of her hand, she motioned for me to sit on the edge of her bed, so I did. And then she began to ask me about my vacation, what I'd been up to this past month, how my parents were... basically anything and everything except for the case. And it was understandable, since she was reminded of it all the time. If I could be a form of escapism for her, so be it. It was the least I could do.

We spoke for hours until the nurse came in to let me know visiting hours were over and I'd have to come back tomorrow. With a regretful sigh, I got up from my seat on her bedside and stretched my limbs.

"Where are you staying?" she asked, a slight frown on her lips.

I smiled awkwardly, realising I didn't think that far ahead. "I'm not gonna lie, I don't know. I came straight here. There's gotta be a hotel or something in this town, right?"

She nodded and flicked her hand to the shelves on the other side of the room. "You should stay in my room in the inn. Key's in my bag over there."

"Oh, I don't have to do that–"

"Y/N, it's not like I'm going to be staying there anytime soon," she cut me off, smiling halfheartedly. "Please."

I chewed on my lip and nodded, giving in. When I grabbed her keys from her bag, I stopped by her bedside and gave her a supportive smile.

"I'll back first thing in the morning, if you don't mind," I said, and she finally gave me a smile that reached her eyes.

"I'd like that."

I nodded, resting a hand on hers and squeezing comfortingly. "Goodnight."

—

Though I knew Jane was okay, I still couldn't stop myself from thinking about her all night. The sight of her wounds and the broken expression on her face was enough to keep me awake. And the guilt that came with it all... why couldn't I have just picked up my damn phone?

As promised, I returned to Jane's hospital room the next morning, this time bringing some breakfast snacks from the hospital cafeteria since I knew the food would be much better than whatever they were serving her. Judging by the content expression on her face when I gave it to her, I was right.

When she finished eating, she was able to sit up slightly and move over on her bed, urging for me to join her and watch some TV with her. There was no way I was going to turn down that offer, so I slid next to her and kept a packet of sliced apples between us as we watched whatever was playing on the TV.

About halfway through watching, she spoke up randomly, taking me by surprise.

"When are you leaving?"

I tore my gaze from the screen and realised she was staring at me with intense green eyes.

"When you're well enough to," I answered truthfully.

She looked down to her hands. "You don't have to stay with me. You can go."

I studied her profile, knowing it was the wrong time to appreciate how stunning she looked even when she was makeup-free, sporting a bed head and tired.

"Do you want me to go?" I asked softly, afraid I may have overstepped.

She was quick to shake her head slightly, finally lifting her gaze to meet mine with glossy ones. "No."

I nodded, trying very hard not to smile, cleared my throat and grabbed her hand. "Then I'm not leaving. I'll be right here until you get better and I can take you home."

A ragged breath escaped her lips as she nodded in response. We both looked back to the TV and I noticed she didn't let go of my hand, her fingers warm to the touch and giving me goosebumps at the contact. But I wouldn't have had it any other way.

[saphirered]

Hi! I saw that you were in the mood for writing, and I had a request! It's kind of vague I'm sorry, but would you mind writing a caleb ×(human cleric) reader where the reader tries to help caleb through his emotional pain instead of physical pain like a regular cleric would, and it just is super sad and sweet and ends with a kiss? Thank you sm!!

I hope this one’s to your liking! Thank you for requesting. 

You’re wandering around the tower not nearly sleepy enough to actually get some decent rest. What could you say, you are a bit of a night owl and you’re still processing the battle earlier today while wandering around. Going floor to floor, common room to common room, talking to the cats and playing with them until you began feeling tired while the others retreated to their own rooms. You eventually recognised Frumpkin coming from one of the small doorway shoots and call him over. 

“Hey buddy. What are you up to?” You get a meow in response as he nudges against your leg so you kneel down and give him some pets. Before you know it you’re sitting on the floor playing with Frumpkin taking out the lace from around one of your sleeves to wiggle around as the cat happily jumps at it trying to catch it. You laugh until Frumpkin seems to get tired. 

“Are you getting sleepy? Maybe I should let get back to Caleb then?” You pet him and he meows once more practically jumping into your arms. 

“Okay I’ll take you back if that’s what you want.” You lift up the cat in your arms as he makes himself comfortable and go up to Caleb’s room. When you reach the right floor Frumpkin jumps from your arms when you see Caleb rubbing at his forehead eyes clenched shut letting out a slight hiss of discomfort. 

“Caleb? Are you alright?” Your voice spooks him as he jumps slightly and blinks quickly. 

“Ja. I’m fine.” You walk over to him and he looks a little pale, eyes once you actually see them are slightly bloodshot and sunken and forehead sweaty. 

“You don’t look fine. Let me help.” 

“I will be alright. I don’t think this is something you can fix.” He gives you a sad smile and goes to move on back into his room.

“Try me. If you don’t at least tell me I won’t be able to help and if you do and I can’t nothing changes. What do you have to lose?” You try to convince him. You’re worried. With a deep sigh he holds out his hand for you. You take it and he leads you into his room. It’s very barren, no stained glass windows like in yours and the furniture is very simplistic. 

“Should I cast a quick cure wounds?” You offer and he nods as he leads you over to the couch and sits you both down onto it facing each other. You cast the spell but not much seems to change. You frown and try casting it again but not much seems to change. 

“It’s not working?” Caleb asks more than states. It should work… Unless whatever ails him is not of physical nature. You can cure aches, numb pain and stitch wounds back together but only of the physical kind. Magic would not help here.

“No. Which is why I will repeat my question from before; are you alright?” You look at him with worry and he seems hesitant. 

“I-uh… no. I’m not alright.” It takes him a good while to speak the words. “It’s stupid. I should just go to sleep. I’ll be fine in the morning.” He’s about to get up but you stop him.

“Caleb, you’re hurting. It’s not stupid. It’s okay to not be alright as longs you don’t bottle it up. That pain won’t go away until you face it and deal with it appropriately.” 

“You make it sound so easy.” He gives you a sad smile. 

“It’s not. I’m going to ask you to do a very difficult thing, what might be one of the most difficult things you’ve ever done. Face whatever you’re pushing away. Don’t let it consume you. Face it. And if you feel comfortable talking about it I am here for you. If you prefer to not speak it out loud I will still be here for you but please do not drown in a pool of your own pain.” You practically beg him and you can see him struggle even though he does not meet your eye. 

“I can’t help but take responsibility for this intertwinement with the Assembly. The risk you are all at, your families, your friends. I shouldn’t have been so naive as to believe I would be truly free of them and because of that everyone is now trapped in this web. I’m afraid I… I’m afraid. Scared because I do not want this to fall apart. I’ve already lost one family at my own hands. I can’t- I really can’t lose another.” The cracks become more apparent and eventually Caleb breaks burying his head in his hands taking deep breaths. You sit closer to him and rub his back before wrapping an arm around him. He puts his head on your shoulder, rubbing at his face. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry for dragging you into this. This shouldn’t be your burden to bear.” Caleb wraps his arms around you biting back tears. You hated seeing him like this. Not because you didn’t want to, because him opening up to you like this and putting his trust in you when he felt most vulnerable is a blessing and an honour but you cannot help but feel hatred and anger towards those who put such a bright and good individual on such a path and break him down. 

“It’s not yours to bear either. It should never have been your burden to bear.” You lean your head against the top of his softly brushing your fingers through his hair. 

“You told someone once; you’re not born with venom in your veins. And it seems to me that you believe that but you also believe there is still venom in your own veins. Lucky you because I happen to know how to make antidotes. You’re a good man with a good heart, Caleb. The good ones are most often also the ones to take the blame for things out of their control because ‘what if’s. You can’t change the past and you can’t right what you never wronged in the first place. But you can work towards a better future and that is exactly what you have been doing, what you are doing.” He grabs your free hand between both of his and kisses it.

“You’re too kindhearted and forgiving for your own good sometimes.” He whispers. 

“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not. Or maybe you’re just trying to find any sense or hint that I might be wrong or lying because that’s easier to accept. It’s what you’re prone to do; blame yourself for things you have no control over. So I will make you a promise. Every time you struggle, have a hard time, doubt yourself, need comfort or a shoulder to cry on, I will promise you I won’t ever tell you what you need to hear. I will instead tell you the truth. You may not always like it or agree with it but it is the truth and I will help you see it if that’s what it takes.” Another kiss is placed on your palm. 

“You have no idea how much I love you. And I have no idea what I have done to deserve such a loving and kind and good person in my life but I know my world is brighter for it.” 

“You best not forget. As for what you’ve done, nothing. You didn’t need to do anything but be yourself because I love you for you. Now, will you hold me to my promise or Erathis preserve me, do I need to kick your ass for it to sink in?” Caleb musters a smile, a genuine one. 

“I promise I will hold you to it. And I promise to make use of it. Changing times.” He looks at you and from his expression you can read he’s truthful. That’s all the confirmation you need. 

“So will you try to stop blaming yourself for things you have no control over?” You ask with a raised eyebrow not entirely serious as this is not a something to be resolved so quickly or easily. Instead of a reply he gives you a deep long kiss. When you pull apart you poke at his chest.

“That’s not an answer Widogast.” You tease, his mood seemingly lightening.

“Small steps.” He smiles placing his lips on yours once more to spend the rest of the night in each other’s comfort and embrace. Small steps but steps nonetheless. That’s all you could ask for. 

[pomegrnteseed]

Fandom observations

I only joined the DHr fandom via ao3 in the last year or so. My twt account went live in February. I'm a relative newbie.

I'm also an internet researcher and spend a lot of my time thinking about how people interact in negative ways online. To be clear: I am not participating in fandom as a researcher, nor do I research fandom. But I can't turn off my curiosity and I think my expertise in adjacent internet cultures offers some productive framing for making sense of the behaviours I'm seeing.

The following are some percolating reflections I've been mulling over for some time now. They're incomplete and shouldn't be read as a concrete analysis or a fix-it guide; instead, consider them pervasive thought clusters with fuzzy edges and an incomplete picture as I try to talk through my ideas to identify their core elements or themes.

I'm extrapolating from macro to micro here, and without any real map or guide to structure my thinking, I'm afraid we're left wading through this tangled web together. If, indeed, anyone at all finds this of interest. Which they likely will not. Nevertheless, it's a useful exercise. And so we begin.

On connection and community

In broad strokes, I find that communities tend to be sorted by geography, identity, or interest.

In fan communities, people can connect strongly over a special or niche interest that they don't get to indulge in deep discussion with others in other social spaces. They also connect in specific locations: fora, social media, conventions, etc. Despite the interest connecting fans, there's largely a celebration of diversity and similarities.

However, there's an impetus exhibited by a vocal minority to control or manage the boundaries of acceptable representation or experimentation within fandom. And when people stray from the emotionally and socially charged interpretations considered legitimate (which, to be clear, are inherently subjective because they are not part of the original published works and therefore are all vulnerable in their faithfulness to canon or headcanon depending on the reader), communication between fans (in-fandom and spanning fandoms) can break down.

Frankly, the lack of grace extended to others in these situations is really sad.

I'd love to see more compassionate reactions to behaviour or ideas that stray from our headcanons or interests - provided they aren't harmful.

And before anyone tries to argue that DHr is harmful because Draco was a young fascist, please remember that anything can happen in fiction: writers make the rules. Fandom offers the freedom to explore alternate realities within canon universes, or even alternate universes.

Similarly, if the author is clear in not promoting violence or harm in fiction, fictional worlds are a wonderful way to explore issues of violence, harm and issues of a taboo nature in different societies and cultures. There's a marked difference between exploring taboo and creating a manifesto endorsing harm. While some of the topics may be uncomfortable for you, your discomfort does not afford you license to censor others. As consenting adults, we can enjoy Icky Things and recognise that it only is okay to engage with and explore them in fiction or fantasy.

On digital publics and (intended) audiences

Social media platforms are spaces for various publics to interact. When we post, we have an idea of who the intended audience is. It may be out general followers, or a specific group of people. Sometimes, we post for ourselves as an archive of our ideas and experiences.

We're likely not thinking about the people outside of our perceived networks as reading or engaging with our posts, but because of the (mysterious) workings of the algorithm, often our posts end up in our spaces and we can feel that our territory or personal digital space is being encroached upon (usually because they misunderstand or misinterpret our community practices or artifacts; the recent mainstream news article about Manacled is one such example). These outsiders decontextualise our co-constructed worlds and make them vulnerable to (mis)interpretation due to a lack of or incomplete cultural knowledge.

It's not just external Publicness we need to be aware of, though. There's not one DHr fandom. There are many communities or networks of individuals who share some common interests, but there are numerous differences in what people will accept or not accept as DHr-compliant (or of personal interest). The lack of cohesive agreement as to what is acceptable means that we're vulnerable to misinterpretation or misalignment with others in our spheres.

And that's not even considering the networks of fandoms related to DHr under the wider HP umbrella.

On miscommunication, disagreement and shame

When these boundaries blur or are crossed, or contention arises, we often see an uptick in sub-tweeting, screenshotting or private quote retweeting (pqrting). This "behind their back in front of their face" approach is a wholly unproductive path to addressing ideas or behaviour we disagree with.

Shame is a powerful tool for gaining and maintaining social control. It can quite easily be weaponised and effectively impact the behaviours and beliefs of others. Shaming people's ideas, actions, or interests doesn't end them, it just obscures them or quietens them in mainstream spaces, while ostracizing them and opening up opportunities for escalation (particularly in negative behaviours) to occur.

Deciding whether to engage in conversation publicly or privately is a personal, and sometimes difficult decision. Public call-ins can model good practice and signal to others when behaviour might cross into unacceptable or unproductive areas not conducive to harmonious, diverse ranges in ideas and actions. Publicly addressing behaviour can lead to defensiveness, though, if people perceive the call-in as a shaming event, instead of a good faith intervention.

On the other hand, private conversations may lead to more in-depth and impactful discussion, but no one knows it's happening and so behaviour appears to go by unaddressed - and silence can be interpreted as complicity or agreement, despite the other functions on twt to signal agreement, e.g. Likes, Replies, Retweets.

One way to maybe mediate these tensions is to note your disagreement/issue and ask to talk about it more in private.

But sub-tweeting and pqrts, while signalling your opposition, create divides or Others, which only widens the distance between people and creates barriers to well-meaning discussion.

I'm also a firm believer in protecting your peace. Block those whose ideas or behaviour is misaligned - particularly those who build their identity on negative oppositional stances (I.e. antis). You'll not change their mind, they aren't open to alternate perspectives. Save your energy for celebrating and creating within your own networks of like-minded fans.

Shifting the ways we frame our interactions, with greater recognition of parasocial relationships, and a more expansive, welcoming approach of acceptability that replaces shame or cringe with curiosity and grace could help us combat some of the hardcoded structural issues in communication created or exacerbated by platform design and the lack of a central hub of activity, interaction, and easily accessible historical information on the networks and individuals we're engaging with.

[maskthesimp]

Cold Blooded, Warm Hearted - Malia Tate x Self-Insert

Warnings: mentions of child abuse, general violence and gore, crude language, monsters

If you wish to follow this fanfic more closely (as it will be a full on book hopefully) check my Wattpad in the Pinned post! It just makes everything easier~ XOXO

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Chapter 1: Paths Crossed

"Bring him," a voice rings out, fire crackles as chains gently rattle against parallel stone pillars. Echoes of footsteps ring through the halls, coming to a whisper as they enter an open space, the ground lined with sand, crunching under the small boots of he who entered the ceremony room.

"You, child of Connor, Lord of the West Territories; Here you shall evolve. Shed your skin, accept your heritage and become one of us! Take your first kill, and burn away the weakness that plagues you," the voice continues to boom through the vast space, voices whispering and muttering as the small figure makes it's way closer to the rattling chains, "Are you ready, my child?" The voice booms as a man groans, his chains shake and knock together, the heat of the fire laying ontop of his skin like a blanket waiting leap and turn him to ash, "...I am!".

Two cloaked men, jam their spears to the ground next to the younger figure, and take their place next to the chained man, "It's time for you to evolve," says the left man, "Shed your humanity." Says the man on the right. A chant erupts in the observing crowd, 'kill, shed, evolve...kill, shed, evolve...'

The young, small figure slowly walks towards the rattling chains, and the bare man constricted by them. He looks at his hands as ash red claws crawl their way out of his formerly human finger tips, wine red scales peel back up his arm, waist, chest, neck, and face, amber rings brand his once ivy green orbs. "Kill, shed, evolve," the two men echo, gripping the edges of two stone bowls on either side of the chained man, filled to the brim with molten rock, glowing with the licks of flames. The ash red claws glint in the light of the flames, and swing down, sending flicks of blood to the ground, as they melt into the already red scales of the young figure's hands.

The chant continues, over and over again, 'kill, shed, evolve, kill, shed, evolve..', the first stage having been complete. The child winces in fear and nearly stumbles back, but holds himself steady, as the two men release the heated rocks onto the scaled child. A piercing scream erupts into a roar as flames slither their way across the child's body, when he opens his eyes in agony, the burning Amber rings are replaced by a now cold, blue glow.

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[Beacon Hills High-school, Last Period]

"Hey do you guys wanna study after hours?" Stiles asks, standing up from his seat. "I need to, I have a maths test coming up soon," Malia responds, a slight pout growing on her face as she reminds herself of her least favourite class. "Cool, I'll help you out!" A tall, dark boy stands from his seat aswell, Scott, he follows his girlfriend, Malia, and his best friend, Stiles, out of the classroom. They make their way up the stairs, running into their resident Banshee, and Stiles' girlfriend, Lydia, eventually reaching the doors of the library.

They settle down at one of the central desks, each opening their books and beginning to study for their respective classes. "Ya know, we haven't had anything supernatural happen in the past few months, it gives me bad tingles in my feet, like something is gonna happen soon," Stiles squirms in his seat with his his chin resting in his palm, Lydia agrees with Stiles, "Yeh you're right, it does seem weird doesn't it? Maybe The Beast was the last big bad in Beacon Hills. Seems fitting that our last one would be the first Werewolf killed by an Argent." Scott turns to his friend, somewhat rolling his eyes, "C'mon Stiles, you're being paranoid! Not everything is supernatural in this town, we can go one year without finding a body, or having kidnappings, or giant phantom werewolves tearing people apart!" Stiles looks down at his open book, a concentrated frown on his face, "Yeh I guess you're right.."

The conversation moves on, everyone but Stiles focusing on other things. A few minutes pass, before Stiles pipes up about a new face who's entered the library,with long brown and blonde hair, light denim jeans, and a black jacket. "Who's that? I don't recognise them from the new Freshmen, are they a transfer student?" The person wanders over to the Anthropology section, also known as where the stories on Mythological creatures are, "I think so, I've seen them at the Jujitsu hall, I think they were signing up," Malia answers Stiles' characteristically unrelated and random question. She gazes off at the new figure, watching them wander around, their raw fingertips glazing over the spines of each book they pass, until eventually they stop and open one, setting themselves down at a desk behind theirs. Scott turns to his girlfriend, a confused expression stapled to his face, "Why were you near the jujitsu Hall? None of us have a single class near there." Malia directs her attention back to Scott and her friends, her focus on the new teen broken, "Hm? I find it entertaining, why else?" She says as if it's blatantly obvious, which to her friends; it is, almost confused as to why Scott would even bother asking. "They seem like they're around our age, I'm just surprised anyone is even bothering coming to Beacon Hills High anymore, let alone what appears to be a transfer student." Lydia looks up from her notes, also oddly transfixed by the person, who is now deeply involved in their own selected book, "You sure they're our age, Lydia? They're kinda short, maybe puberty is stuck in traffic for them," a chuckle comes from the group's friends Liam, Corey and Mason as they sit down next to the main four, with Scott's Beta, Liam glancing at them each one at a time as a silent greeting. "No, they likely have some form of Dwarfism, a condition that essentially puts a limiter on how tall someone can grow, although there's hundreds of different types so I can't for sure say which one they may have.." Lydia responds almost distantly, still keeping a keen yet seemingly misty eye on the new kid, everyone taking a glance at her, not at all surprised by her scientific knowledge anymore, before they all go back to silently watching the figure.

After a while Stiles stands up, and begins making his way towards the new kid's desk, but not before Scott questions what he's doing, "I'm gonna go talk to them! Every time a mysterious new student shows up something happens, what if we have another Liam? Another time bomb?" Stiles points out, accidentally taking a small dig at their friend with I.E.D, "Hey! That was Scott's fault, I didn't come here as a wolf!" Liam retorts, glaring at Stiles with a frustrated gesture, "Well technically you got yourself tossed off the side of a building, so it was sorta your fault," Mason pipes up, "That was the wendigo's fault! Not mine!" The Beta reminiscences over the time he got bitten by Scott, when he fell off the hospital roof after he was hunted by a hungry Wendigo. "Alright enough! I'm going to talk to this kid and see what their deal is, okay?" Stiles eventually interrupts the debate, settling to try and conversate with this strange new face, "Who's to say they're anything at all? You don't need to be suspicious of every new person ya know," Malia points out to Stiles, shrugging her shoulders, "listen I always trust my gut, they transferred to Beacon Hills High even after everything that's happened here, and oh look! They're reading a book on supernatural creatures! That's not suspicious at all!" The skeptic says sarcastically, before stumbling over to the desk the young figure is sitting at.

He sets himself down clumsily, glancing between the person and their book, "So..a fantasy lover?" Stiles awkwardly asks the stranger sitting before him, he looks up from his reading in an almost panicked state, suddenly closing his book most of the way, "Oh um--..Hi, yeh, just studying for History," They let out a small, awkward chuckle before introducing themselves, "Cael by the way!" They reach out, shaking Stiles' hand as he too introduces himself, "So, you a fan of Mythology too, huh?" Cael attempts to break the Ice a little, worried that his social anxiety was showing, "Yeh," Stiles stares at the back of Cael's chosen book, somewhat zoning out while reading the title; 'The Extensive History and Physiology of Dragons throughout History'. "So, you're a dragon lover aswell then?" Stiles questions the kid's taste in History so Cael explains their history project, "Pff no, I have quite the distaste for them in fact, the history project is to study a part of any culture that we fear, whether it be real, religious, or historical events that took place in a Country's past," he awkwardly shifts in his seat, explained away by his discomfort with the Winged creatures depicted in his selected book, "So, what makes you dislike them so much, just scary? Or a separate reason..?" Stiles lightly stares at the androgynous figure sitting across from him with suspicion he hopes isn't noticeable, "Because they're the most scientifically realistic, in most cases," he responds with a deadpan and almost cold stare. Stiles' mind starts running wild with theories on every word Cael spoke, the way he said them, and other meanings of what he could've meant, his gut giving him more feeling than ever that Cael wasn't who they said they were.

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[Scott's House]

"Scott I'm telling you! This kid is shifty as hell! I checked with some of the people in his class, and they don't have a history homework even close to what he described!" Stiles points out his evidence for Cael's lying, showing his continued distrust for the young lad, "Maybe he just wanted to learn about Dragons, people have interests, Stiles!" Scott argues with his friend, while he watches him rummage through his desk, clearly searching for something, "Why would he lie about something like that? What's the point of lying about an interest in something such as dragons? Why not tell the truth, unless the truth is something you wish to keep hidden?" Stiles finally appears to find what he's looking for, he holds up a hard drive that Scott recognises, the Bestiary that used to belong to the Argents.

Stiles plugs in the Bestiary to his computer, and loads up the index. He scrolls down to the Dragons section and look through it for a while, reading some useful parts out loud; "Much like other shape shifters, dragons appear as human...Dragons have various species among their communities...they have a similar hierarchy system to ancient Kings and Queens of the English Empire..." Scott looks over Stiles' shoulder, silently reading along with him, "Stiles you should head to bed, it's late and we can talk more tomorrow. Listen if something is up with this kid, then we'll eventually find out, but other than a natural interest in fire breathing lizards, he hasn't acted suspicious in the slightest." Stiles turns his spinning chair around to face Scott, "Scott, he said he hates dragons and has a fear of them," Scott's face sinks with confusion, he asks what the skeptic is talking about and Stiles responds, "Whenever I was talking to him, he said that he had a really bad fear of Dragons, when I asked why all they said was because they're the most likely supernatural creature to be exist, is that not in the least bit suspicious?" The Werewolf stands up properly, thinking in silence for a few seconds, "Scott you didn't trust me with Theo, or when I realised I was the one who wrote Kira's name on the chalk board, I just need you to trust my gut this one time!" Stiles begs his friend to go along with his hunch, but Scott seems to be somewhat distant, until he snaps his head up "He could be a hunter! Maybe he's not a supernatural but a hunter!" Stiles claps his hands and points a praising finger towards his best friend, "Yes! Now you're following along! That explains why he was researching dragons, he wasn't studying them for himself, he was trying to figure out ways to defend himself or--"

"Kill them.." Scott quickly interrupts, his gaze sinking to the floor, "That's it, tomorrow we inform the rest of the Pack, and we find him. We'll question him, if my hunch is right and he's a hunter, then he poses a risk to all of us. Including any humans who are involved with protecting the supernatural, aka me! I only have a metal bat to protect myself so it'd be nice to have a heads up on this guy!" Stiles retorts with a snarky undertone, Scott nods his head, agreeing and saying goodnight to his partner in crime before heading home, the last thing he needs is his girlfriend climbing through the window to find his room Scott-less.

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[pink-peony-princess]

Knight to Remember

"Remember when we met?" I murmured, picking at Shawn's scrubs as I lay on his chest. I hadn't been feeling well all day with my monthly cycle so when Shawn had come home he'd sweetly offered to order dinner in and have a movie night, despite having things he probably really needed to do.

"Mmhhh," he responded, hand playing with my hair, massaging my scalp, as he watched the film we'd put on. "I was your knight in shining armour." I could head the playful teasing behind it,but it was true, if he hadn't been there that night,I don't know what would have happened to me.

I could feel the tears welling in my eyes,overflowing and rolling down my cheeks landing on the light blue material attached to Shawn's body.

"Why are you crying baby?" Shawn asked,sitting up. I could see the worry etched into his face as he looked at me.

I shrugged,I didn't know why I was crying. Was it because if my period, was it because I didn't feel well or was it because I would never be able to repay Shawn for what he did for me that night.

...

1 year ago

When I came to, I didn't know where I was, or how long I had been there. What I did know was that I was freezing, and in more pain than I had ever been before. I lay there for what must have been at least a few more minutes before finally building up the courage to open my eyes. When I did, I found myself crumpled at the back of a dark stone alley, but I couldn't remember where exactly I was, or even how I had come to be there.

More than the pain that was now beginning to radiate from every part of my body- my legs, my chest, my head, even my eyes... how can my eyes be hurting? I wondered... I was concerned about the obvious gaps in my memory. Putting this thought aside I tried to take inventory of how bad my injuries were. I tried to wiggle my toes, and was immediately rewarded with a sharp shot of pain that ran straight up my leg, and into my lower back. At least I could feel my legs I thought, mentally sighing.

It was then that it began to rain, blood running from an unknown source into my mouth. I couldn't help but panic at the thought that there was a very real possibility that I may not be found. But how was I going to get someone, anyone for that matter to notice me?

This thought was interrupted by voices, male voices.

"So how was your shift? Mine was crazy, broken bones, crying kids, one of my residents even got bitten by a kid today," one of the men laughed.

"Mine was pretty chilled actually, but I'm not going to lie, I'll be glad to get these scrubs off and switch off 'doctor mode' for a few hours," the other one replied.

Somewhere between the haze of the pain and cold my brain comprehended the fact that this person had just said 'doctor', something which I knew, even with my limited knowledge of medicine- most of which was thanks to Grey's Anatomy- was something I needed right now.

Before I could think, I found myself screaming out for help, granted it was less of a scream and more of a horse grunt, but it got their attention and the two men were soon kneeling beside me. One tall and brunette,with curls the other shorter, but more built with wavy blonde hair.

"Hi honey, my name is Shawn, the brunette one said, and this is Connor, we're doctors at the hospital, we're going to help you okay, but I need you to tell me where it hurts okay" he asked, gently resting a hand on my arm, pulling a bag off his shoulder which I had not noticed.

As Shawn was rummaging around in his bag, Connor, came over to take my hand. "Hi sweetheart, I'm just going to take your pulse, can you remember anything that happened? Where you are or even your name?" he questioned, before going quiet. "Pulse is fast, but irregular, I'm going to go call for an ambulance, and let the guys know we'll be needing their help. We need to get her warmed up too, she's freezing," he spoke, rubbing my arm, before standing and making a call. Probably calling whoever 'the guys' were.

"I'm just going to test a few things before we get you to hospital and I need you to tell me if anything is painful okay?" The man- Shawn asked with a soft smile. I went to nod, but he reached for my head, stopping the action. "Just keep nice and still for us, we don't know what damage you've done, and we don't want to make anything worse. How about thumbs up for yes and thumbs down for no?" he suggested. I went to nod again, but caught myself, and gave him thumbs up instead.

"Okay, so I'm going to shine this light in your eyes," he explained, holding up what I recognised as a pen light from all the medical dramas I watched. "It might be a little bit uncomfortable, but it's important that we check this stuff out, so we know what we're working with," he finished, smiling sympathetically again, in the half light of the dim alley. "Just follow the light, but remember, don't move your head."

I did so, and he was right, it was uncomfortable, but I put up with it.

"The guys said they'll be here in five minutes, and they've put in a trauma call for an eta of twenty minutes." I couldn't help but jump at the voice that was suddenly right next to me. "Sorry darling, didn't mean to startle you," Connor apologised, reaching for my hand, and giving it a squeeze.

"Awesome," Shawn replied, clearly eager to get me to the hospital. "The sooner we can get her in the E.R.,the better, her pupils are uneven and slightly slower than I'd like."

"While we're waiting we may as well do the rest of her vitals. Have you got the rest of your kit? Normally I leave mine in my locker, but I guess it was somewhat of a happy accident I took it with me," Connor smiled down at me, before grabbing a stethoscope out of a bag which I had not noticed he had either. "Before I check your airways, can you remember your name yet? How old you are?"

I thought for a moment, which was much harder work then it should have been. "Grace..." I started, a little unsure.

"Great, well it's lovely to meet you Grace, can you tell me how old you are?"

"Twenty."

"Perfect," he praised. "Well that's a start." he nodded to himself, before moving to put the metal of his stethoscope to my chest. "Sorry hon," he apologised when I shivered from the cold of it.

They were both quiet for a moment, Connor listening to my chest, and Shawn doing something down by my legs. "Her breathing is shallow and uneven, sounds to me like there could be a collapsed lung, but we won't know for sure until we get x-rays," Connor told Shawn, pulling the metal away from my body.

"Grace," Shawn called, "Can you feel this?" he asked. I could feel him running his finger along the bottom of my foot, though I didn't know where my shoe had gone.

"Um, yeah."

"And this?" he continued up my leg, to a point I felt no pain, and then I was in the most pain I had ever been in.

"Ow! Ow! Stop, stop, please!" I begged, tears flooding down my face, as I tried desperately to pull away.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry, I'm all done." he reassured me, moving back to my head, and wiping away the tears that were beginning to soak my clothing with gloved hands. "Connor, she's got a compound fracture to the fibula on her left side. Grace if you had to rate your pain, one being nothing, and ten being unbearable what would you say?" he asked.

"Ten," I whispered, trying to compose myself, before anyone else saw me crying.

"We'll get Brian to check it out when they get here, I can hear them now." Shawn was right, I could hear a faint siren in the distance which rose to an incessant blaring as an ambulance pulled up.

"Hi guys, what have we got?" I heard a new voice ask. They sounded cheerful, and oddly calm. Basically, everything that I wasn't at that moment.

"This is Grace, she's twenty, we found her here, she has no memory of what happened. She's got a slight concussion, with a suspected partially collapsed lung, compound fracture to the fibula- left leg and possible broken ribs. Possible internal bleeding as well, pain rating ten out of ten." Shawn recalled quickly.

"Hi Grace, my name's Brian," the man spoke appearing above my head. "And this guy here is Dave," he added, pointing to another person with tan skin, several tattoos and dark hair. "We're doctors at the hospital and we work with these two guys that you already know." As Brian explained, Dave got up, only to appear seconds later with a massive bag, and a board.

It was at this point that I was starting to become drowsy, which Shawn quickly noticed, tapping my face lightly to get a response. "Grace, we need you to stay awake okay, I know it's hard, but it's important you try. Dave has the spinal board so what we're going to do is splint this leg and then get you onto the board."

I didn't' respond, tiredness sweeping over me like a thick fog. From then on everything was hazy. I could hear the odd thing, but it was like I was under water.

...

When I woke, it was to bright lights and a painful swaying motion. I tried to shift, to alleviate some of my discomfort, but was meet with a hard, cold surface under me.

"Welcome back, we were starting to get worried there, we'll be about five minutes, and then hopefully we'll be able to get you slightly more comfortable." Shawn spoke from a seat at head of the bed I was laying on.

"Let's run some pain meds," I heard someone request, Dave I thought.

"On it," Brian spoke, from where he sat next to me. "Grace, I'm going to put an I.V. in okay, it'll just be a sharp scratch and then it's over,yeah?" he tried to appease me. I wasn't aware of it immediately, but I must have started to hyperventilate, because I found myself getting dizzy, and suddenly Connor was taking a mask off that one of them must have put on me while I was out.

"Just take deep breaths, Brian's a pro okay?" he smiled, taking my hand in a silent act of comfort.

Connor was right,Brian was a pro and soon enough I found some of the pain drifting away.

...

When we got to the hospital, I was metwith more bright lights, and lots of noise. No one ever tells you how loud a hospital emergency department is, and at that point in time, all I wanted to do was sleep!

After several random people, nurses I think had finished hooking me up to monitors, and had changed me into a gown- an embarrassing process in which I'm sure I managed to flash all four of the doctors, Connor insisted on getting x-rays and an MRI and CT scan, to look at the break in my leg. I hadn't seen it, but twenty minutes after the scans had come back declaring I had no life-threatening brain damage, Shawn came to inform me that it would indeed need surgery, which only caused more tears.

He was quick to assure me that he would be there throughout the whole process, something which I found mildly panic relieving, but it didn't change the fact that I was still having to go into surgery. Why was medicine so much less glamourous and fun in real life than on T.V? I wondered as he started attaching me to electrodes,"For an ECG," he explained when I looked at him questioningly from my stagnant position on the bed.

I did find a small ray of hope in the deluge of bad news, in that I didn't have any spinal damage, which meant I could have the stupid collar taken off, and be removed from the back board.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" Dave asked, coming to stand next to the bed after Shawn and Connor had managed to get me back onto the normal bed, somehow doing so without causing me additional pain.

"Ummm?" I started, before laughing meaning that I dissolved into a fit of coughing, resulting in an intense burning throughout my chest.

"Just take a few breaths, no rush," Brian spoke, picking up my hand, taking my pulse again, as Shawn listened to my breathing again.

"Okay, there's definitely some damage, but it should repair itself in time. The important thing will be rest."

"Grace are you feeling light-headed at all?" Brian asked, a slight frown on his face, as he dropped my hand and turned to look at the monitor.

"No,why?" I asked.

"Because your pulse is fast, and your blood-pressure is high, nothing to worry about, probably just the stress of the situation, but we need to keep an eye on it is all."

"Oh okay,"

"So back to what we were saying before," Connor started. "Good news is, there's no signs of internal bleeding on any of the scans, but your leg on the other hand is a little more complicated, you'll probably need plates, and physio for sure."

"How long will it take to heal?" I asked, feeling dread bubbling up to the surface of my thinking.

"It really depends, on a couple of things. How bad it is, what your pain levels are like with the physio, and so on. But roughly, at least six months." He broke to me slowly, looking at me with sympathy in his eyes.

After that it was all a bit of a blur, the stress of the event finally starting to catch up with me. I woke up some time after the surgery, in a cast and traction, something which I was not happy with... especially when I realised that it meant that I would be relying on bed pans and sponge baths for the foreseeable future.

The coming days were easier, except for a particularly bad reaction to a pain killer Shawn gave me on the second night, which caused nasty bed spins, with vomiting thrown in. Luckily for me, he was a pro at dealing with things like this, and it was nothing out of the ordinary for a normal shift as an Intensive Care physician he reassured me, as my face burned in embarrassment when the nurse had to change my gown, due to sick getting on it. It was the absolute last thing I would have wanted to happen in front of someone like Shawn. When I'd first come in,I hadn't realised just how good looking he was, but oh my god, was he gorgeous, tall and muscular with curls that seemed to fall perfectly- a few resting on his forehead despite him constantly pushing them back. He was sweet too, always going out of his way to make sure I was okay, that I was as comfortable as I could be.

---

They pieced together when I was in surgery, that I had definitely been involved in a hit and run, something which they had concluded in my initial assessment unbeknownst to me when they found a series of tyre marks across my abdomen. They were sure to tell me just how lucky I was to get away with the injuries I did. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry at this, and so ended up doing some of both.

Each day was easier than the last, and my mood was raised when my parents arrived, from arrived in Toronto all the way from Sydney, my home, which I had remembered after the concussion had subsided.

Eventually I could start rehabilitation, having to relearn how to use my leg, something which wasn't always easy, but they guys were always there to support me, and would supple a constant stream on bad jokes to keep my mind off the pain.

When it came to leaving day, as excited as I was I was also sad, I had formed bonds with these guys, especially Shawn, and they had literally given me my life back, something which I would also be grateful for. Little did I know that just over a year later I'd be laying on Shawn's chest as comfortable as could be, having been dating for a bit over nine months.

...

Present day

"Why are you crying Gracie?" he asked again, wiping away a tear with the pad of his thumb.

"I'm just so tired," I sniffled,hugging him more, craving the comfort and warmth he provided.

"How about a bath and an early night?" he suggested.

"Will you join?" I pleaded with my best puppy dog eyes.

He sighed, he hated baths and I knew it, but I needed him with me tonight, I was feeling emotional and vulnerable and he was the only one that could make it better.

"Only because it's you Princess," he smiled, shaking his head, before bending down and attaching his lips to mine in a long tender kiss.

"Love you," I smiled as he wrapped his arms around me again, creating the cacoon of warmth that I loved so much.

"Love you more."

[mytinyislandofcalm]

Day 3 - Tuesday July 21st - Just kiss already!  Maybe there’s a scene or an episode that you wish had gone just a little bit further?  Or maybe the right moment is only in your head but hasn’t made it to screen yet?  Fics, illustrations, edits, gifs, videos or other imaginings  (canon or AU) are encouraged. . @keenlerweek @alyblacklist @aussieokie

This is an extension of the Tiny Island of Calm moment! We all wished it would go further ;) Enjoy our fanfic!

Everything was finally different. Liz's words hung dense in the air, and unable to process it all Ressler didn't know any better than to embrace her. He felt a tug in his gut and knew his eyes had welled up. He could barely believe any of it. All the words that he'd hoped to hear from her were finally said. How she needed him in her life just like he needed her in his.

He unconsciously found himself still whispering reassuring words into her hair as he couldn't deal with the discomfort of his vulnerable situation.

"That's never gonna happen, not on my watch"

He had devoted the last 7 years to being the person who's duty was to protect Liz, and this moment proved exactly why he did it. It was his feelings for her that made all the difference.

Ressler felt her arms holding onto him tightly. As he held her there for a few more seconds he realized that he had never held Liz like this before.

Elizabeth almost crumbled into his arms , she felt her storm of emotions immediately subside in his arms, and the calm took over as she allowed herself to close her eyes. They lingered open into blank space for a few moments, as she could barely recognise the words she had said, they were always in her head. Until she let them finally close and feel him hold her.

Liz soon felt their swaying disturb the stillness of the room, making her arms hold him a little tighter. She finally felt safe.

Liz shifted a bit which made Ressler conscious that he was probably holding her for too long. He detangled himself from her and cupped her face in his hands. Her eyes lifted to his and stayed there for an embarrassing amount of time. Finally he let himself half smile before planting a soft kiss on her forehead.

Elizabeth intentionally moved her face closer to his which made their noses slightly touch. This startled Ressler a bit which made him pull away.

"See you tomorow Liz" Ressler backed away, slowly moving to the door.

Liz was only able to choke out a little "Don't"

Ressler froze. He didn't know what to do, so he just stood there. He could feel her pace toward him from behind, but he was frozen still. When he turned to her again she was much closer. Their eyes locked, and he saw how her eyes flickered down to his lips. He felt his heart pause, as he was completely flustered at her gaze.

Without thinking she grabbed the collar of his shirt tightly and kissed him.

The kiss was slow and lasted a few long seconds before they broke apart. Liz had moved her hands back to his face and immediately pulled him down for another kiss. Resslers arms fumbled for a place to hold her until finally processing the moment he moved his hands to her waist and pulled her into him. He came back to his senses and pulled back between the kiss, fearing that she wasn't in the right mindset.

Liz and him were both flushed and were breathing heavily.

She was partially grateful he pulled back because she needed to process what she had just done. But the other part wanted to pull him back for another kiss.

Resslers arms hadn't left her waist yet.

Elizabeth realised that Ressler was the first person she had allowed herself to be romantically intimate with ever since Tom. She knew it had been long enough, and that Ressler could be the perfect person to move on with, but couldn't help feeling overwhelmed. She probably looked lost because Ressler immediately caught on and said, "It's okay Liz we can forget about that if you want"

She looked up at him helplessly trying to find a way to make the situation better. Why was he even apologising, SHE made the first move.

But she saw the hurt in his pale blue eyes as he said those words. He too, really hadn't allowed himself to seriously feel anything romantic towards anyone since Audrey.

Both of them understood eachother in the silence that followed until Ressler broke it again.

"I should go, I'm sorry"

Liz looked at him again with disbelief.

"No, you didn't do anything, it was my fault..."

Ressler raised an eyebrow and mocked,

"Fault?"

"No, no god no," Liz started "It's just that I - I just thougt you didn't want this...?"

He shyly scoffed, now that the air was clearler he allowed himself to admit it.

"I do Liz, you have no idea for how long I've wanted to do that."

Liz released a relieved sigh.

"Maybe, You know... We could take this slow?"

Resslers face relaxed as he gave her a soft nod.

"Sure, come here."

He walked closer to her and held his hand out for her to come back into his arms. Liz leaned back into his shoulder, and allowed him to hold her again. She tucked her head under his neck and nuzzled herself into his arms. Resslers hands traced her back and then he consciously held her tighter towards him. She could feel the faintness of his breath on her, he'd never held her this intimately before. She closed her eyes again and let herself exhale the chaos of the moments that lead her up till here.

Everything was different.

[pinkpeonyprincessblog]

A Knight to Remember

"Remember when we met?" I murmured, picking at Shawn's scrubs as I lay on his chest. I hadn't been feeling well all day with my monthly cycle so when Shawn had come home he'd sweetly offered to order dinner in and have a movie night, despite having things he probably really needed to do.

"Mmhhh," he responded, hand playing with my hair, massaging my scalp, as he watched the film we'd put on. "I was your knight in shining armour." I could head the playful teasing behind it,but it was true, if he hadn't been there that night,I don't know what would have happened to me.

I could feel the tears welling in my eyes,overflowing and rolling down my cheeks landing on the light blue material attached to Shawn's body.

"Why are you crying baby?" Shawn asked,sitting up. I could see the worry etched into his face as he looked at me.

I shrugged,I didn't know why I was crying. Was it because if my period, was it because I didn't feel well or was it because I would never be able to repay Shawn for what he did for me that night.

...

1 year ago

When I came to, I didn't know where I was, or how long I had been there. What I did know was that I was freezing, and in more pain than I had ever been before. I lay there for what must have been at least a few more minutes before finally building up the courage to open my eyes. When I did, I found myself crumpled at the back of a dark stone alley, but I couldn't remember where exactly I was, or even how I had come to be there.

More than the pain that was now beginning to radiate from every part of my body- my legs, my chest, my head, even my eyes... how can my eyes be hurting? I wondered... I was concerned about the obvious gaps in my memory. Putting this thought aside I tried to take inventory of how bad my injuries were. I tried to wiggle my toes, and was immediately rewarded with a sharp shot of pain that ran straight up my leg, and into my lower back. At least I could feel my legs I thought, mentally sighing.

It was then that it began to rain, blood running from an unknown source into my mouth. I couldn't help but panic at the thought that there was a very real possibility that I may not be found. But how was I going to get someone, anyone for that matter to notice me?

This thought was interrupted by voices, male voices.

"So how was your shift? Mine was crazy, broken bones, crying kids, one of my residents even got bitten by a kid today," one of the men laughed.

"Mine was pretty chilled actually, but I'm not going to lie, I'll be glad to get these scrubs off and switch off 'doctor mode' for a few hours," the other one replied.

Somewhere between the haze of the pain and cold my brain comprehended the fact that this person had just said 'doctor', something which I knew, even with my limited knowledge of medicine- most of which was thanks to Grey's Anatomy- was something I needed right now.

Before I could think, I found myself screaming out for help, granted it was less of a scream and more of a horse grunt, but it got their attention and the two men were soon kneeling beside me. One tall and brunette,with curls the other shorter, but more built with wavy blonde hair.

"Hi honey, my name is Shawn, the brunette one said, and this is Connor, we're doctors at the hospital, we're going to help you okay, but I need you to tell me where it hurts okay" he asked, gently resting a hand on my arm, pulling a bag off his shoulder which I had not noticed.

As Shawn was rummaging around in his bag, Connor, came over to take my hand. "Hi sweetheart, I'm just going to take your pulse, can you remember anything that happened? Where you are or even your name?" he questioned, before going quiet. "Pulse is fast, but irregular, I'm going to go call for an ambulance, and let the guys know we'll be needing their help. We need to get her warmed up too, she's freezing," he spoke, rubbing my arm, before standing and making a call. Probably calling whoever 'the guys' were.

"I'm just going to test a few things before we get you to hospital and I need you to tell me if anything is painful okay?" The man- Shawn asked with a soft smile. I went to nod, but he reached for my head, stopping the action. "Just keep nice and still for us, we don't know what damage you've done, and we don't want to make anything worse. How about thumbs up for yes and thumbs down for no?" he suggested. I went to nod again, but caught myself, and gave him thumbs up instead.

"Okay, so I'm going to shine this light in your eyes," he explained, holding up what I recognised as a pen light from all the medical dramas I watched. "It might be a little bit uncomfortable, but it's important that we check this stuff out, so we know what we're working with," he finished, smiling sympathetically again, in the half light of the dim alley. "Just follow the light, but remember, don't move your head."

I did so, and he was right, it was uncomfortable, but I put up with it.

"The guys said they'll be here in five minutes, and they've put in a trauma call for an eta of twenty minutes." I couldn't help but jump at the voice that was suddenly right next to me. "Sorry darling, didn't mean to startle you," Connor apologised, reaching for my hand, and giving it a squeeze.

"Awesome," Shawn replied, clearly eager to get me to the hospital. "The sooner we can get her in the E.R.,the better, her pupils are uneven and slightly slower than I'd like."

"While we're waiting we may as well do the rest of her vitals. Have you got the rest of your kit? Normally I leave mine in my locker, but I guess it was somewhat of a happy accident I took it with me," Connor smiled down at me, before grabbing a stethoscope out of a bag which I had not noticed he had either. "Before I check your airways, can you remember your name yet? How old you are?"

I thought for a moment, which was much harder work then it should have been. "Grace..." I started, a little unsure.

"Great, well it's lovely to meet you Grace, can you tell me how old you are?"

"Twenty."

"Perfect," he praised. "Well that's a start." he nodded to himself, before moving to put the metal of his stethoscope to my chest. "Sorry hon," he apologised when I shivered from the cold of it.

They were both quiet for a moment, Connor listening to my chest, and Shawn doing something down by my legs. "Her breathing is shallow and uneven, sounds to me like there could be a collapsed lung, but we won't know for sure until we get x-rays," Connor told Shawn, pulling the metal away from my body.

"Grace," Shawn called, "Can you feel this?" he asked. I could feel him running his finger along the bottom of my foot, though I didn't know where my shoe had gone.

"Um, yeah."

"And this?" he continued up my leg, to a point I felt no pain, and then I was in the most pain I had ever been in.

"Ow! Ow! Stop, stop, please!" I begged, tears flooding down my face, as I tried desperately to pull away.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry, I'm all done." he reassured me, moving back to my head, and wiping away the tears that were beginning to soak my clothing with gloved hands. "Connor, she's got a compound fracture to the fibula on her left side. Grace if you had to rate your pain, one being nothing, and ten being unbearable what would you say?" he asked.

"Ten," I whispered, trying to compose myself, before anyone else saw me crying.

"We'll get Brian to check it out when they get here, I can hear them now." Shawn was right, I could hear a faint siren in the distance which rose to an incessant blaring as an ambulance pulled up.

"Hi guys, what have we got?" I heard a new voice ask. They sounded cheerful, and oddly calm. Basically, everything that I wasn't at that moment.

"This is Grace, she's twenty, we found her here, she has no memory of what happened. She's got a slight concussion, with a suspected partially collapsed lung, compound fracture to the fibula- left leg and possible broken ribs. Possible internal bleeding as well, pain rating ten out of ten." Shawn recalled quickly.

"Hi Grace, my name's Brian," the man spoke appearing above my head. "And this guy here is Dave," he added, pointing to another person with tan skin, several tattoos and dark hair. "We're doctors at the hospital and we work with these two guys that you already know." As Brian explained, Dave got up, only to appear seconds later with a massive bag, and a board.

It was at this point that I was starting to become drowsy, which Shawn quickly noticed, tapping my face lightly to get a response. "Grace, we need you to stay awake okay, I know it's hard, but it's important you try. Dave has the spinal board so what we're going to do is splint this leg and then get you onto the board."

I didn't' respond, tiredness sweeping over me like a thick fog. From then on everything was hazy. I could hear the odd thing, but it was like I was under water.

...

When I woke, it was to bright lights and a painful swaying motion. I tried to shift, to alleviate some of my discomfort, but was meet with a hard, cold surface under me.

"Welcome back, we were starting to get worried there, we'll be about five minutes, and then hopefully we'll be able to get you slightly more comfortable." Shawn spoke from a seat at head of the bed I was laying on.

"Let's run some pain meds," I heard someone request, Dave I thought.

"On it," Brian spoke, from where he sat next to me. "Grace, I'm going to put an I.V. in okay, it'll just be a sharp scratch and then it's over,yeah?" he tried to appease me. I wasn't aware of it immediately, but I must have started to hyperventilate, because I found myself getting dizzy, and suddenly Connor was taking a mask off that one of them must have put on me while I was out.

"Just take deep breaths, Brian's a pro okay?" he smiled, taking my hand in a silent act of comfort.

Connor was right,Brian was a pro and soon enough I found some of the pain drifting away.

...

When we got to the hospital, I was metwith more bright lights, and lots of noise. No one ever tells you how loud a hospital emergency department is, and at that point in time, all I wanted to do was sleep!

After several random people, nurses I think had finished hooking me up to monitors, and had changed me into a gown- an embarrassing process in which I'm sure I managed to flash all four of the doctors, Connor insisted on getting x-rays and an MRI and CT scan, to look at the break in my leg. I hadn't seen it, but twenty minutes after the scans had come back declaring I had no life-threatening brain damage, Shawn came to inform me that it would indeed need surgery, which only caused more tears.

He was quick to assure me that he would be there throughout the whole process, something which I found mildly panic relieving, but it didn't change the fact that I was still having to go into surgery. Why was medicine so much less glamourous and fun in real life than on T.V? I wondered as he started attaching me to electrodes,"For an ECG," he explained when I looked at him questioningly from my stagnant position on the bed.

I did find a small ray of hope in the deluge of bad news, in that I didn't have any spinal damage, which meant I could have the stupid collar taken off, and be removed from the back board.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" Dave asked, coming to stand next to the bed after Shawn and Connor had managed to get me back onto the normal bed, somehow doing so without causing me additional pain.

"Ummm?" I started, before laughing meaning that I dissolved into a fit of coughing, resulting in an intense burning throughout my chest.

"Just take a few breaths, no rush," Brian spoke, picking up my hand, taking my pulse again, as Shawn listened to my breathing again.

"Okay, there's definitely some damage, but it should repair itself in time. The important thing will be rest."

"Grace are you feeling light-headed at all?" Brian asked, a slight frown on his face, as he dropped my hand and turned to look at the monitor.

"No,why?" I asked.

"Because your pulse is fast, and your blood-pressure is high, nothing to worry about, probably just the stress of the situation, but we need to keep an eye on it is all."

"Oh okay,"

"So back to what we were saying before," Connor started. "Good news is, there's no signs of internal bleeding on any of the scans, but your leg on the other hand is a little more complicated, you'll probably need plates, and physio for sure."

"How long will it take to heal?" I asked, feeling dread bubbling up to the surface of my thinking.

"It really depends, on a couple of things. How bad it is, what your pain levels are like with the physio, and so on. But roughly, at least six months." He broke to me slowly, looking at me with sympathy in his eyes.

After that it was all a bit of a blur, the stress of the event finally starting to catch up with me. I woke up some time after the surgery, in a cast and traction, something which I was not happy with... especially when I realised that it meant that I would be relying on bed pans and sponge baths for the foreseeable future.

The coming days were easier, except for a particularly bad reaction to a pain killer Shawn gave me on the second night, which caused nasty bed spins, with vomiting thrown in. Luckily for me, he was a pro at dealing with things like this, and it was nothing out of the ordinary for a normal shift as an Intensive Care physician he reassured me, as my face burned in embarrassment when the nurse had to change my gown, due to sick getting on it. It was the absolute last thing I would have wanted to happen in front of someone like Shawn. When I'd first come in,I hadn't realised just how good looking he was, but oh my god, was he gorgeous, tall and muscular with curls that seemed to fall perfectly- a few resting on his forehead despite him constantly pushing them back. He was sweet too, always going out of his way to make sure I was okay, that I was as comfortable as I could be.

---

They pieced together when I was in surgery, that I had definitely been involved in a hit and run, something which they had concluded in my initial assessment unbeknownst to me when they found a series of tyre marks across my abdomen. They were sure to tell me just how lucky I was to get away with the injuries I did. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry at this, and so ended up doing some of both.

Each day was easier than the last, and my mood was raised when my parents arrived, from arrived in Toronto all the way from Sydney, my home, which I had remembered after the concussion had subsided.

Eventually I could start rehabilitation, having to relearn how to use my leg, something which wasn't always easy, but they guys were always there to support me, and would supple a constant stream on bad jokes to keep my mind off the pain.

When it came to leaving day, as excited as I was I was also sad, I had formed bonds with these guys, especially Shawn, and they had literally given me my life back, something which I would also be grateful for. Little did I know that just over a year later I'd be laying on Shawn's chest as comfortable as could be, having been dating for a bit over nine months.

...

Present day

"Why are you crying Gracie?" he asked again, wiping away a tear with the pad of his thumb.

"I'm just so tired," I sniffled,hugging him more, craving the comfort and warmth he provided.

"How about a bath and an early night?" he suggested.

"Will you join?" I pleaded with my best puppy dog eyes.

He sighed, he hated baths and I knew it, but I needed him with me tonight, I was feeling emotional and vulnerable and he was the only one that could make it better.

"Only because it's you Princess," he smiled, shaking his head, before bending down and attaching his lips to mine in a long tender kiss.

"Love you," I smiled as he wrapped his arms around me again, creating the cacoon of warmth that I loved so much.

"Love you more."

[lu-undy]

Sniper is tall af, and is selfconscious about it. When he had a growth spurt as a kid, he became very clumsy because of his long legs and kids made fun of him. That's why he never dances. He's never even tried to, scared that he'd made a fool of himself (again). Spy is elegant and everything he does, he does it perfectly. Even giving teaching lessons to his "friend". Their faces are very close, and Sniper is trying to focus on his legs to not fall, but Spy is so close, so beautiful... -🐑

Here it is, one Spy teaching Sniper how to dance! Hopefully you’ll like it!

"Oh, Spook forgot his cigarette case…?"

Sniper was tidying up his campervan when he saw the thin metal box lying on the slim kitchen top. 

"Better go and give it back before he goes mad lookin' for his cigs." 

The Australian took it in his hand and headed for his more-than-friend's room. Spy and him had a… Well, different relationship. Sniper didn't really know what it was and what to call it but it was indeed something new and unlike anything he had experienced before. 

The moments he shared with his French colleague he didn't have with anyone else. The summer nights on the van's rooftop, the winters in his smoking room in front of the fireplace… Not with Scout that he would get that; not that he wanted it either!

After passing the kitchen and living room, Sniper finally reached the door with the knife symbol at the end of the corridor. He raised his hand to knock when a noise made him stop. It came from inside the Frenchman's quarters. Sniper leaned in further against the door to hear better.

Is that… music? 

He gave himself a few seconds to be sure but in spite of the fact that the door was muffling the sounds, Sniper could clearly recognise music. And that made him hesitate. Should he bother his friend…?

Knock, knock, knock…

His knuckles had answered for him. 

"Come in!"

The Australian pushed the door just enough to peek his head in. He found that his friend had pushed the sofa, the armchairs and the coffee table aside. Spy was standing in the middle of it all, a hand flat on his stomach and the other suspended in the air at his shoulder's level.

"Sniper? What a surprise… Come in please."

"Oh, uh, sorry Spook, I just wanted to bring you this back, you forgot it in me van." 

Sniper extended his hand with the cigarette case in it. The Frenchman resumed a normal posture and went to open the door. He took the cigarette case from his friend's hand and smiled at him.

"Come in, please."

"A-aren't you in the middle of something?" 

Sniper shyly stepped in.

"It was just a warm up."

"Oh okay…" 

Spy shut the door after his friend and went to change the disc on the record player. A few seconds after, the music rose in the air. 

"Do you know the tango?" He asked. 

Sniper's eyebrows jumped. 

"Uh-what? No, nah, I mean it sounds nice."

"It does indeed." The Frenchman put a hand behind his back and the other on his stomach. He walked in rhythm, one step to the left, one to the right as he approached his friend. 

Sniper's eyes opened wider and wider. Spy was getting closer to him in a rhythmic zigzag, like a snake slithering left and right as it approaches a prey.

"Do you know how to dance it, Bushman?" 

"What? Me? Dancin'? No, no, no, no, Spook, look, I just came to give you yer cigs back-" The Australian raised his hands and blushed. 

Spy saw it and smirked. 

"You might have come for that, oui, but that is not the reason why I had you coming." 

"You what?" 

The Frenchman was right in front of his friend. He took Sniper's hand, put it on his shoulder and took the other one in his. 

"Now, I will lead and you follow, just listen to the music, you have a good ear. Un, deux, trois et quatre…"

[One, two, three and four…]

"Wh-what?!"

The Frenchman started dancing, dragging the Aussie with him. 

"S-spook!" Sniper wanted to protest but Spy had him in his arms… He looked down at his feet to avoid treading on the Frenchman's. But his steps were more than clumsy and he felt bad for it. 

"Look up, you don't need to look at my feet to know where I am going."

"It's to not walk on them!"

"You won't, you just have to mirror my steps. Look. I take one step with my right foot towards you? You take one back with your left foot. See? It isn't so hard."

Sniper lowered his head.

"Spy, stop." 

The discomfort was audible in the Australian's voice so the Frenchman obliged. 

"What is the matter?" 

"I don't like dancin'. Never did. I just came back for your cigarette case, ok? Now let me go back to me van." 

Sniper turned on his heels but a hand held him back.

"Sniper?"

"Hm?" 

"You didn't come back for my cigarettes."

"Yeah I did."

"Non…"

The Australian looked at the Frenchman with questions in his eyes.

"I left my cigarettes purposefully in your van, on the kitchen top for you to find them and bring them to me whenever you wanted to."

"What?"

"I gave you an excuse to come and visit me, when you feel like you need one." 

Sniper looked confused so Spy explained. 

"When I go to see you in your van, I do it spontaneously, because the thought of you crosses my mind and I just want to see you. However, you always come for a reason."

The Australian had never realised it. 

"So I thought to myself that if I wanted to see you more often, I could help by providing reasons that would push you to come and visit me. The cigarette case is a good one."

"W-wait… Do you want to see me more often?" Sniper asked. 

"Didn't I leave my cigarette case, which you know I can't live without, in your van?" Spy answered with a smile.

"Why not just say it directly?" 

"And have you blush only once like you are now? Pff, non. I would rather see the pink in your cheeks everytime you come." 

The pink turned to red on the Australian's face. He put a hand on his brow and let it sink down. 

"Spook…" 

"If I am mistaken and you don't enjoy my company as much as I do yours, feel free to leave. In no way would I want to hold you back against your will."

Spy paused and Sniper diverted his gaze. 

"But if on the other hand you accept this dance with me, I would be delighted to teach you." 

The Frenchman held his hand out to his friend.

"Even if I wanted, I can't dance."

"Why?"

"I'm… I'm not made for it."

"Nonsense."

"Legs are too long, and I'm too clumsy with me feet. 's a bloody miracle I walk without trippin' on them all the time."

"Tsk… Sniper, look at me." 

The Australian didn't move. He held his head low, looking at his infinitely long legs. 

"Please…?" Spy insisted and heard his friend sigh before obliging. Sniper raised his head and his eyes met Spy's fair ones. "Your legs are not too long and you are not clumsy with your feet. This is all absurd. Non, you just have never danced before and no one taught you."

The Frenchman smiled. 

"But you are in luck, for I happen to be an excellent teacher, if I may say so myself." Spy smirked.

"Show off…" Sniper answered shaking his head.

"And a very patient one at that." 

"Spook…"

"So, if you are still here by now, I am assuming you accept my offer. Your hand in my mine, come on!" 

Sniper rolled his eyes and put his hand on Spy's.

"Not like that! I didn't not ask for you to slap my hand! Put it delicately on top, I am inviting you, Bushman, to a session of danse de couple."

"Of what?" 

"Dance for a couple, or however you choose to translate that in kangaroo. Now, let me tell you about tango… Your hand on my shoulder, please. Voilà, that's good and the other in mine still…" 

Spy adjusted his friend's posture and the position of his limbs as he spoke. 

"Tango is a dance for two. There is one leader, always the male, and one follower, usually a female."

"So I'm a sheila now?" 

"Non, fret not. You still lack all the charms of a lady, Bushman…" Spy smirked. 

"Oi! I can be charmin'!" The Australian answered, his cheeks turning pink again. It wasn't everyday that things lead him to utter such a sentence…! But the Frenchman knew it and of course, he appreciated his friend's blush again. 

"Pray show me, then… But to come back on the point, non, the follower isn't always a lady. Actually the best ones were males."

"What?"

"Gentlemen would be taught the tango amongst themselves and would only approach a woman when they were confident about their skills. Nowhere was it normal to learn the tango directly with a girl." 

"Oh, I see." 

"Bien. The tango is also a dance of proximity." As he said so, Spy took a step forward and stuck his stomach against his friend. Sniper's breath cut sharp. He couldn't be closer to Spy, he could see himself in his eyes! 

"And as such, leader and follower will alway try to maintain as few points of contacts as possible but their limbs should be the closest possible too. That way, they have flexibility and freedom of movement without breaking the proximity. Do you understand?"

Sniper nodded. 

"Now for the music. Its rhythm is very specific. The tempo is cleanly cut and marked. One should always pay attention to that, and the melodies often involve as few instruments as possible.  Do you know why?" 

Sniper shook his head and Spy grinned. He loved having the Australian's attention all for himself…

"Because what is important in the tango, beyond the music and the dance…" Spy took a step forward and Sniper mirrored it back. The Frenchman was looking at the marksman as if he was now the hunter. "It is the tension."

They started moving. First it was just a step forward for a step back without moving away from their starting spot. 

"Listen to the rhythm, Sniper. Feel your heels hit the floor with the tempo… Oui, voilà…" 

Spy then took a step to his right, so for Sniper, it was the left. Right, middle, back, front, left, and again, right, middle, back, front, left…

"Very good, now, let us try and move, shall we?" 

The Frenchman didn't wait for an answer and started moving. Sniper started to understand. The point wasn't so much to follow Spy per se, it was to let him take the lead and guide. The Australian looked down at Spy, who was about a foot shorter than him. The Frenchman seemed very comfortable, like a fish in water, he even loosened up enough to actually move his hips in rhythm. 

"Keep your head straight, good. Remember, it's all about tension. The two dancers should be as close as possible while maintaining their distance."

Sniper gulped down hard and started sweating. The Frenchman was an inch or so away from his face and his eyes stared into his without parting. He didn't need to look where he was going, he didn't want to anyway because both felt it, the tension. 

That fire burning against their chests, their hearts pounding into one another, breathing the same air tinted with the cologne that the other wore. Their eyes staring deep beyond the irises and diving behind the pupils, the windows to the soul and everything that both the shy Aussie and the secretive Frenchie hid. No, Sniper was impressed. It really felt like Spy was reading his most intimate thoughts and being the contradictory human being he was, instead of controlling his thoughts and holding them back, Sniper unleashed his mind and let it roam free. His brain flashed wild images before his eyes, images he had always pushed against seeing, forbidden pictures, surreal ones, ones that would never happen but in his dreams if he was lucky and brave enough.

"Spy, stop."

Sniper suddenly parted away from his partner.

"What is it?" Spy gently asked.

"I don't know. I… I don't like it." Sniper lowered his head. "And I'm bad at it too."

"You are one very poor liar." Spy said with a smug grin. "I know why you don't like it. And the reason that you feel that way is completely normal when dancing in such closeness." 

"No, it's not just when we dance, it's-"

"Is it?" Spy asked, interested. "Then I understand even more." 

He closed the space between him and his friend, and looked up at him. 

"Sniper?"

"Hm…" The tall man grumbled. 

"Sniper, please. Look at me."

With a sigh, the Australian obliged and his eyes met with the very fair blue ones of the man who was now brushing his hands up his chest. 

"S-spy, what do you want?" 

"You to relax. You have nothing to fear."

"No."

"Oui. I am not the enemy. In fact, I would appreciate it if you considered me as differently as you can from one."

Spy's hands were laid right and left from Sniper's neck. 

"Y-you're a friend. It's a lot already."

"Maybe." The Frenchman answered. "But may I be more?" 

Sniper raised his eyes to Spy, astounded.

"Like what? What d'you mean?" 

"Like this…" Spy cupped his friend's face and pulled him down as he pushed himself on the tip on his toes. Sniper's eyes snapped wide when the Frenchman's shut as he closed the gap between their faces.

Spy had Sniper's forehead against his and opened his eyes. 

"I saw it in your eyes when we were dancing. I saw the same thing that I have always hidden from you, Sniper."

"Hide what?"

Spy smiled. 

"A picture, a scene, a moment in time."

The Australian raised an eyebrow, his face still between the soft, gloved hands of Spy. Surely the Frenchman didn't mean…?

"W-what?" 

With a smile, the Frenchman answered. 

"The reason why your hands are now where they are, Sniper."

It took him a split second to realise. It wasn't something he had done consciously, he never thought he could do it, it was too brutal…! And yet Sniper's hands were now on Spy's sides, against his shirt. His jaw dropped and he removed his hands. 

"Ho my God… S-sorry, I didn't mean to, I swear, I'm sorry…!"

"Why apologise? Who complained?" Spy asked. 

"Oh…" Sniper's throat was too tight now and he felt it as he gulped down his embarrassment. But it's true. Had Spy not wanted it, he surely would have pushed him back and he wouldn't be stroking Sniper's face with his thumbs, would he?

"Can I…? Can I put my hands back…?" 

The Frenchman chuckled. 

"I would appreciate it greatly. But there is also something else I would like, if I am being honest."

"Huh?" Sniper's heart was beating so hard, it might as well have burst out of his chest. His eyes darted left and right from Spy's eyes to his nose and further down, to his lips pursed in a sweet smile.

"Embrasse-moi."

[Kiss me.]

Sniper did not understand the French but got the kiss.