#shallow grave fanfiction

[stardancerluv]

Can I have Alex Law with my self made prompt called scar kissing?

I am so sorry this took so long…but I struggled a bit to be honest…with being sick..stress at work..and also having moved quite a bit away from the fandom. But the spark…for Alex came back and I hope you like it.

Kisses for a Warrior

Summary: You have a date with Alex tonight and ghosts from your past come to haunt you.

Warning/Notes: Self-esteem issues, self-doubt, references to scarring (no scar is done or elaborated on), this is not a glorification of it…this is living with and after it (I only based this on those I sadly know who have gone through this…so if I get anything wrong I am sorry.) The reader is pretty nuetral but there is a reference to them wearing a bra. The body type is just so illustrate how they feel better about themselves.

Feedback, ❤️s & reblogs are welcome!

A pile of clothes, laid at your feet. To be honest, you were ankle deep in a pile of discarded clothes. Somehow, you had caught the eye one the handsome, lovable asshole Alex Law.

You don’t know why you suddenly had grown self conscious, but you were. Nothing you owned fit right. Blowing your bangs from your eyes, your hands on your hips you were at a loss of what to what wear.

He was gonna play a few rounds of racquetball ball with David and Juliet, show and then come get you. The clock on your nightstand was mocking you. You had been in this turmoil for the last hour. You wanted to look good for him. All the girls in the office wanted him, you his eye only twinkled for you.

But right now, you were certain he’d see you in this state cut his losses and end it. Tears stung your eyes, your past had come in like a ghost and lingered. No matter what you did. None of your clothes fit right. They were either too long or not long enough.

Standing there, in some shorts and a tank everything was on full display. Little silver lines etched themselves here and there along your body. At the time, you they had released the tension the nail biting anxiety that had taken a strangle hold on you. Now, you couldn’t believe you did that to yourself. No amount of make up dusting spots here and there would cover them up and apparently, all your clothes make those lines as vivid as stripes on a tiger.

You had not had that talk with him. You knew where you could start but would he even stay for the end, you wondered.

You covered your face with your hands and your face contorted into a silent sob.

******

“Hey doll? You home?” Alex racked his fingers through his still damp auburn strands. He had pulled on his green sweatshirt, that you loved so much and hopped in his car and raced over.

He had barely been able to focus on the racquetball games. To be honest, for once he truly didn’t care if he won against Juliet or David. He just wanted to go and see you. But he couldn’t break with their tradition of playing a few around on Tuesday night. Monday the start of the work week always led to the bar. Tuesday was well a few rounds, Wednesday was beers and darts and so on for the rest of the week.

You were the new girl at the paper, well new as of six months ago. But you had walked in, with a pencil behind one ear, a notepad in one hand and eyes that when they met his made his heart beat just that much harder.

“Doll?” He knocked, and turning the knob finding it open he hesitantly opened the door. Icy nervousness, formed and churned in his stomach. A girl shouldn’t have her door unlocked like this; anyone could walk in.

Walking in further silence still greeted him instead of your sweet smile and twinkling eyes. Turning, he quickly locked the door. He may be there now but he wasn’t sure how he’d hold up against an intruder.

“Baby?” He shouted. The ice of his nerves grew heavier in his stomach.

That’s when he heard, a soft sad sound. His reporter ears perked up. He crept over and found it to be coming from your room. The door was open a crack. Another soft sound, slid from the opening. His stomach lurched.

Peaking, he wanted to make sure you were ok and that not something awful happened because your door had been unlocked.

His eyes grew at what he saw. Without even realizing it, since you were so lovely he had pushed the door open further so he could see all of you.

You stood there in the cutest bra and a pair of shorts that well, made him just want to run up to you and squeeze your bottom.

“Alex?” Your voice was scratchy and filled with anguish.

It broke right through the feeling of excitement of seeing you.

You were grabbing and pulled and tugging and hiding from him. It confused him. Not sure why, but he took a shaky step forward to see, to ask why you were acting like that.

“No Alex, stop.” You held a hand up. You wavered where you stood and then he watched as you faltered more and then with an oof and a thud you fell down.

He immediately ran over and knelt by your side. “Baby, what’s the matter?”

You tried to shrink away from him but the mass of your clothes wouldn’t let you. Confusion rooted him to the floor, he never had a girl act like this.

“What’s the matter?” He placed a gentle hand on your bare arm.

You flinched. But then just as fast as you did that. You launched yourself at him and he struggled but managed to not fall and was actually able to hold you.

“I got you, I’m not going to let go.” He murmured into your soft hair.

A softer cry came from you then as you then nestled closer, and closer still your grip on him tightening.

He just held you and let you be. Tears moistened his sweatshirt. You ragged breaths warmed him but he did what he promised and didn’t let go.

He didn’t understand. He wouldn’t prod at you. You’d tell him. He knew in time, he you’d explain but he right now he was just going to hold you. At least, he hoped you would.

Sometime later, you finally looked up at him, a few tears still clung to your lashes. “You don’t think I’m hideous?”

He grimaced. “What? How could I?” The question, and the lack of any sympathy for yourself shook him.

“I…I…” Your voice trailed off, pulling back you gestured to little silver lines that appeared over here and there.

He shook his head. “You are gorgeous. I could never.”

“But…but.” Your bottom lip quivered.

Then it dawned on him as he remembered an article, he had covered a few months back. Realization washed over him. He knew now what, he was looking at.

Silently, not uttering another word he gently took your hand and pressed soft kisses there where he saw the lines. Slowly, he moved up your arm and did the same there. He traveled over to the soft curve of your stomach. Seeing how many were there made ripples of sadness form in him. But he knew from their appearance you had long since stopped and they were all healed. That even though feelings may remained, you had healed and became the person he met and fell hard for.

He felt your hand on the back of his head. He glanced up from some of the auburn strands that strayed and fell into his eyes. “Yes, doll?”

“You’re uh,” He watched you chew on your bottom lip. “You’re kissing my…my…”

“Streaks of triumph over your inner demons? I am. You are my warrior and as such, you deserve some kisses.”

He saw something flicker in your eyes, but no tears came. Though you hugged him then and he hugged you.

He wasn’t sure how long you two remained their or how much longer he pressed kissed here and there on you; but he did remember how you looked later that night. The two of you were crossing the street to get over to the new bar that opened. You had thrown your head back laughing at something stupid he said; but seeing that smile, how your eyes twinkled in the street lights or how much of a knock out you looked in that spaghetti strapped dress. He, Alex Law was the luckiest man in Scotland.

@mac-n-cheesie @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @johallzy @chogisss @calcifor @i-love-scott-mccall @stardust-and-starlight @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @xbrex @hollow-r-us @unfilteredmoonchild @thebeckyjolene @cult-of-enji-todoroki @blondekel77 @dogmatic255

[impuritiex]

i find it hard to believe no one's written anything on shallow graves on ao3

[q-gorgeous]

Grave Green

fanfiction

ao3

word count: 4074

There's a shallow grave in the woods. The only marker is a stone with the name "Danny" scratched into it. Judging by the fresh-turned soil, it hasn't been empty for long. @kinglazrus

hehehehe

Dash wasn’t lost.

No way no how. There was no way he was lost. He was just going on his nightly run and he made a wrong turn and now it was the middle of the night and he couldn't see anything. But he wasn’t lost. He’d be able to find his way back still. 

But the trees blocked the moonlight and he had to move slowly. But moving slowly didn’t help him when he tried to step on empty air and he fell, landing in a patch of turned dirt. 

That was weird. Turned dirt? All the way out here in the middle of the woods?

He sat up and looked around him. Dash’s heart stopped and his eyes widened.

There at the other end of the turned dirt was a headstone with the name Danny on it. He could barely make the name out but he was sure it said Danny.

This couldn’t be Fenton’s grave, could it? Sure, Fenton went missing a month ago but everyone thought he just ran away. He couldn’t have been murdered and buried here, right?

But why was the grave dug out? How long has it been empty?

He heard the sound of a twig breaking behind him and he whipped his head around. 

“Danny?” Dash whispered, horrified.

There he was, covered in dirt and looking at his hands like they weren’t his own. He raised his head to look up at Dash and tears were swimming in his eyes. 

“Dash?” He asked shakily. “What are you doing out here?”

Dash just stared at Danny, at the absurd question. “What am I doing out here? What are you doing out here? You’re covered in dirt and I just fell into your grave!” 

Danny slowly looked back down at his hands. 

“There was an accident. I remember coming out here with my mom.” Danny whispered. “She said we were just going for a walk. That it would help me walk off the shock I got when their portal activated.”

Dash stared at him in horror. 

“I don’t know how she did it, but when we got here there was already an empty grave. She pushed me in and started burying me alive.” His gaze traveled over to stare at dirt he crawled out of. “The headstone is new though.”

“Your mom… Buried you alive?” Dash asked, shaking his hands back and forth.

Danny nodded, still staring at the grave. 

“It’s been a month since you went missing, though. How are you still alive?”

Danny’s gaze made its way back to Dash. “I don’t know. The accident must’ve changed me. Something seemed to scare my mom after I walked out of the portal but she wouldn’t tell me what it was. We came here afterwards.” 

“Your parents are into ghosts right?” Dash asked. “Did their portal kill you? Are you dead?”

Danny went back to studying his hands. “I don’t feel dead. I’m kinda hungry.” 

Dash slowly walked up to him. He hovered a foot away for a moment before he raised a hand up.

“If you’ve got a pulse, you’d still be alive right? Can I see…?”

Danny nodded and Dash put two fingers on Danny’s neck under his jaw. He held his breath and waited for the tell tale thump of a heart beat. He let it out and closed his eyes when he felt it.

“You still have a pulse. Somehow.” Dash pulled away. 

Danny nodded. He seemed tired and he couldn’t stop staring at his hands. Dash sighed.

“Come on. Let’s get you back to my place. We can get you cleaned up and find something to eat.”

Danny nodded again and Dash grabbed one of his hands and pulled it out of his line of sight. Tugging on it, Dash pulled Danny behind him as they started walking. 

“Did your dad know about any of this?” Dash asked softly. He tripped on a rock in the ground and turned to guide Danny around it.

Danny shook his head. “No. It was just me and my mom in the lab when the accident happened. She told me to put my jumpsuit on because we were going to try and fix the portal as a surprise for my dad.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how she thought I was supposed to help if my genius father couldn’t help her figure it out. She sent me inside the portal to take a look but I tripped.” 

Goosebumps rose along Dash’s arms. She sent him into the portal?

“When I braced myself against the wall, I must’ve pressed a button. The portal came to life around me and then I was screaming. When the pain was finally gone, I stumbled out of the portal and my mom had a horrified look on her face. I didn’t know what she saw but a bright light flashed in the lab and then she walked over to me.”

Dash guided them past another tree and finally saw what looked like a path. He started following it. 

“She told me to take my jumpsuit off and that we were going to go for a walk. She said it would help me walk off the shock. But the longer we kept walking, the worse the feeling in my gut got. Before I realized I should run, we were already standing over the grave. And then she pushed me in.” 

“Shit.” Dash whispered.

“Yeah.” Danny’s hand tightened around his. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Let’s just start with getting cleaned up and eating. Then we can talk to my dad.”

Danny’s head shot up and he looked at him. “Your dad? What if he just brings me back to my mom?”

Dash shook his head. “If we tell my dad what happened he’ll probably arrest her for premeditated homicide.”

“Premeditated homicide?” Danny exclaimed. “Why do you think any of that would’ve been premeditated?” 

“Hello? She already had a grave dug out for you? She sent you into the portal?” Dash finally saw the park entrance that he had come in through. He turned back to look at Danny who was staring at his free hand again. Dash could see all the dirt and mud stuck to Danny much clearer now. 

“But…” Danny trailed off. 

Dash sighed and pulled him closer so he wasn’t trailing so far behind him. “Sorry. Let’s get you back to my place.” 

The rest of the walk was short and quiet. Dash could feel Danny’s dazed and disassociating look as he walked beside him. He couldn’t imagine being in Danny’s position. No matter how shitty his own mother was, at least she just left them instead of trying to kill him. 

They finally turned onto the street his house was on. Dash started pulling his keys out of his pocket. He inwardly cringed when he saw the lights in his living room still on. No doubt his dad was still up waiting for him. 

They walked up the stairs to his front door and put his key into the lock and opened the door. 

“Where have you been, young-”

His dad stopped when Dash pulled Danny into the house. He stood there for a few moments studying Danny and the dirt all over him. 

“Where did you find him?” His dad whispered. 

“I got lost on my run.” Dash said, guiding Danny in behind him while he closed the door. “I tripped on the grave he crawled out of while I was trying to find my way back.”

His dad blanched at him. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“I can explain everything to you but can we get him figured out first?” Dash gestured at Danny. “And I don’t think he needs to hear the story he told me again.”

His dad nodded. “Yeah, right. Take him upstairs and find him a change of clothes and get him cleaned up. I’ll make us up some soup.” 

Dash nodded back at him and pulled Danny up the stairs behind him. 

“I’m gonna find some clothes for you to wear first and then we’re gonna head to the bathroom.” Dash said over his shoulder. Danny didn’t respond.

Dash headed to his room and opened his door. He let go of Danny’s hand.

“I’ll be right back.” 

Dash headed to his closet and looked through his t-shirts. They would all be pretty big on Danny but that would be fine. He grabbed the one Nasa shirt he had and headed to his dresser. He struggled to find some sweat pants that would fit Danny but finally found an old pair of his buried at the bottom of one of his drawers. 

He walked back to where Danny stood in the hallway. He was staring at where Pookie sat on the floor, staring back up at him. 

“That’s Pookie.” Dash said. 

Danny nodded. “I remember. I’ve always wanted a puppy.”

Dash smiled. “I’m sure he’ll be able to fill all your puppy needs while you’re here tonight.”

Danny smiled sadly at Pookie but turned to follow Dash to the bathroom. 

“You can sit down on the toilet.” Dash set the new change of clothes on the counter while he rummaged through the cabinet for the first aid kit and a washcloth. He set the first aid kit on the counter and turned the water on. He waited for it to get warm before he soaked the washcloth in water. Sudding it up with soap, he turned to face Danny.

“Are you okay with me cleaning your face and arms off?” Dash asked him. 

Danny looked up at Dash, his expression blank for a moment before he nodded. 

Dash sat down on the edge of the bathtub and started with wiping down Danny’s arms. There was so much dirt and grime. As he washed it off he also found some cuts and scrapes. Danny’s hands were the worst but Dash supposed that’s what happened when you dug your way out of your own grave. 

“I’m just gonna have you wash your hands in the sink when we’re done. That might just be easier than me trying to do it with a washcloth.” He stood up and grabbed a clean washcloth for Danny’s face.

He sat back down and brushed Danny’s hair out of his face. Danny’s blank eyes focused on him. 

Dash held Danny’s head in place by placing a hand on his left cheek. He started by cleaning around Danny’s eyes. Dash moved to his forehead but his eyes stayed closed as Dash cleaned the rest of his face and made his way down his neck. 

“Don’t forget behind the ears.” Danny whispered.

Dash snorted but obliged him.

He threw the second washcloth into the sink and studied Danny’s hair as he opened his eyes back up.

“Wash your hands and take your shirt off. I think we should rinse the dirt out of your hair, even if we don’t actually wash it.”

Danny headed over to the sink and washed his hands while Dash turned the water for the shower on. He tested the water and adjusted it until it felt like a comfortable temperature. Danny finished washing his hands and then took his shirt off and changed into the sweatpants, tossing the soiled clothes on the floor. 

“Lean over the edge of the tub and I’ll rinse your hair out.” Dash said. 

Danny did as he was asked, propping himself up by resting his arms on the tub. Dash rinsed and pulled as much dirt out of his hair as he could before he shut the water off. He grabbed a towel out of one of the cabinets and handed it to Danny.

“Here.” 

Danny slowly dried his hair as Dash opened up the first aid kit. He pulled out the hydrogen peroxide and neosporin. He grabbed yet another washcloth and doused it in hydrogen peroxide. 

Dash turned back to Danny just in time to see him pull the towel off of his head. 

“This will sting a bit.” Dash warned as he started working on cleaning the scrapes on Danny’s hands and arms. He moved up to Danny’s face and cleaned the one scratch that ran across his cheek. 

Dash went to grab the neosporin and started applying that when Danny looked up at him.

“Thank you for doing this. You didn’t have to.”

Dash shrugged. “Even if I didn’t want to, my dad would’ve made me. But I wouldn’t want to leave you all covered in dirt. You don’t deserve that.”

Danny hummed and Dash finally finished cleaning him up and putting bandages on. 

“You can take the spare bedroom. I can bring your food upstairs for you.” 

“Okay.” Danny nodded, pulling his shirt on. He looked down at the floor as Pookie started following them.

Dash opened the door for the spare bedroom and turned on the light. 

“Here you go. Home sweet home for the night. You can get settled in while I go see where the soup is at.” 

Danny nodded again and sat down at the edge of the bed. Pookie jumped up by him and curled up at his side. 

Dash headed back downstairs and found his dad still stirring the soup in the kitchen. He looked up when Dash sat down in a chair at the counter.

“How’s he feeling?” His dad asked.

“He’s pretty out of it. Has been since I suggested that his mom did this to him on purpose.”

Dash’s dad turned to look at him. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’ve got to stop explaining things like this. Can you start from the beginning?”

“He said his mom asked him to help her fix some portal they built that didn’t work. That she wanted it to be a surprise for his dad. But she asked him to suit up and sent him inside the thing. He tripped and hit a button and it turned on from the inside.” Dash looked away from his dad. “He got hurt and when he walked out of the portal he thought something scared his mom. She took him on a walk and at the end of it she pushed him into a grave she had ready and waiting and buried him alive.”

His dad’s eyes widened. “She buried him alive? Wasn’t that a month ago that he went missing? How is he here?”

Dash shrugged. “They’re ghost hunters. It’s probably some weird ghost thing. But she even marked the grave with a rock that had Danny’s name on it. He literally dug himself out of his own grave.”

“Goddamn.” His dad whispered. “I can’t decide if this kid has the best or worst luck in the world.”

“Maybe a little bit of both.” Dash joked. His smile fell and he looked at his dad. “Is this enough to arrest her? Or will Danny just have to go home to her?”

His dad shook his head. “I think it would be enough. We just need to find the evidence to prove it. But we can arrest and detain her for questioning. If we believe her to be dangerous we can keep her without bail as well.”

“Okay. When will that happen?” Dash asked.

His dad looked up towards the stairs. “Let’s talk to Danny and get the evidence we need. I think your and Danny’s statements will be enough to arrest her while we search for other evidence down in that lab of theirs.” 

Dash nodded. “Okay. We’ll keep him safe though?”

Dash’s dad looked back at him. “Yeah. We’ll keep him safe.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the portal failed, Maddie knew what was missing. 

It was a portal to the land of the dead. When every calculation they’ve checked, double checked, and triple checked was correct, there was only one thing left that she thought could be the answer.

Opening a portal to the land of the dead required a human sacrifice. 

So one day when Jack and Jazz went to the fudge museum, she asked Danny to help her tackle the problem with the portal. She told him she wanted it to be a surprise for Jack. That she wanted to fix it before he came home so that he’d be greeted with a happy sight.

She made sure to hide her notes and hypothesis somewhere Danny wouldn’t stumble upon them. She asked him to get suited up under the guise of lab safety and she sent him into the portal. 

It happened more naturally than she could’ve ever hoped. As he was walking inside, he tripped over one of the wires that ran across the floor of the portal and fell against the portal wall. He pushed the on button that was on that wall and the portal hummed to life. 

She took in the last image of her son, trying to commit him to memory. 

His screams seared her mind and she tried to block them out. This was for science. This was necessary to further their studies. 

But when the screaming subsided, something she wasn’t expecting happened.

A ghost stepped out of the portal. He looked just like her son except for the fact that all of his colors had inverted. 

And his eyes.

His eyes opened. They were acid green and full of fear and pain. He made eye contact with her. A bright light appeared around his waist and when it traveled over his body and disappeared, her human son was left standing there.

“Mom?” He said. He held his hand close to his chest.

“Danny, come here.” She gestured him towards her. “Let’s get your suit off. Let’s take a look.”

She unzipped his jumpsuit and pulled his arms out of the top and helped him step out of it. A lichtenberg scar ran from his hand that hit the button up his arm. 

He didn’t seem to realize what happened. He didn’t realize he had died. That he was some kind of abomination. 

“Let’s go on a walk, Danny. Let’s walk that shock off.”

“A walk?” He asked groggily, confused. “Shouldn’t we-”

She shook her head. “No. Let’s go on a walk. You seem okay. Let’s just stretch your muscles out.” 

This wasn’t how she planned for this part to go. She expected him to just be a body on the floor that she’d have to take care of. She didn’t expect him to survive that. If you can consider it that. 

As they walked further away from the house and into the park, she could feel Danny getting uneasy behind her. She could tell he didn’t understand why they were just going on a walk. It got worse when they walked into the woods and she walked off the path. 

“Mom? Where are we going?” He asked nervously. 

There it was. Right behind him. The grave. He hasn’t noticed it yet.

She pushed him and a cry pulled itself out of his mouth. He fell into the grave and his back collided with the ground.

“Mom!” He cried. “What are you doing?” 

She tried not to listen to his cries and pleas. He was a monster. He wasn’t really her son anymore. Not the abomination he turned into. 

She pulled a pop out Fenton shovel out of her tool belt and started shoveling dirt into the grave. He tried to sit up so she started aiming for his face and dumping more dirt in faster so he couldn’t sit up anymore. 

Soon he was completely covered and he had stopped struggling against the force of the dirt on him. She found a large stone and placed it at the head of the grave so she could recognize it when she came back.

She cleaned her shovel and folded it back up, storing it in her belt. She brushed the dirt off of her jumpsuit and composed herself before she started making her way back out of the forest. 

Nobody could know what Maddie did. She was protecting them. All of them. She did what had to be done. She couldn’t let a monster like that walk around. 

Jack and Jazz just thought Danny was missing. They thought he ran away or maybe that somebody picked him off the side of the road one day. They didn’t know that he died in their basement when the portal turned on. That she had orchestrated the whole accident. They would never know. 

But when she caught sight of the monster wearing her son’s face, her heart stopped. 

There he was, sat in the middle of their living room, Jazz and Jack doting on him. But standing between her and them was Officer Baxter and his son.

“Mrs. Fenton.” Officer Baxter said as he stepped forward. 

“Oh.. You’ve- you’ve found my son.” She said with a weak smile. “Where has he been all this time?” 

Dash stepped closer in front of Danny. Jazz placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Mrs. Fenton, I need you to turn around.” He pulled a pair of handcuffs off his belt. 

She stared at them before her eyes darted back up to his face. “What- what are those for?”

“You are being arrested for attempted premeditated homicide.”

“I- I don’t- Why would you think I would do that?” She tried to feign shock, but he kept walking towards her. 

“We already have a warrant out for your arrest and another to search your lab for evidence.”

She looked at the monster on her couch and pulled a blaster out of her utility belt. “I don’t know how you survived, ghost scum, but I won’t let you walk around pretending to be my son!” 

She went to take a shot but Jack jumped up and knocked the gun out of her hand. 

“This is our son, Maddie!” He shouted at her. 

“He’s not my son anymore!” She screamed as Officer Baxter knocked her to the ground and forced her into handcuffs. “He’s ghost scum parading around with his face! My son is dead!” 

“You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney-”

“Let go of me!” Maddie screamed as she struggled against the handcuffs. He pulled her off the ground roughly and started walking her to the door. “My son died! He’s dead! That is not my son!” 

That monster looked at her with wide eyes she swore she saw turn green. A single tear streamed down his face. 

“That is not my son!” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dash watched as his dad carted Maddie to his car. She was still thrashing against him, screaming in the street. 

“What happened, Danno?” He heard Jack whisper behind him. 

“She did something to me.” Danny whispered. 

Dash turned and saw Jazz and Jack exchange a look between the two of them. Danny was still staring at the front door where his mom had been taken away. 

“What did she do to you?” Jazz asked.

Danny shook his head. “If- if I told you… Would you still love me?”

A sad look crossed onto both Jack and Jazz’s faces. “Of course we would.”

“Mom didn’t.”

“What did she do, Danny?” Jack asked him again.

Danny’s gaze finally lifted and landed on Dash. Dash started a little bit at the expression Danny was giving him.

“You want me to tell them?” Dash asked quietly. Danny nodded. 

Dash took a deep breath. “He told me that Maddie asked him to help with the ghost portal. That he went in and pressed a button and when he came back out she looked horrified. Then she led him out to the woods where she had a grave already dug out.” 

Jazz covered her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes. Jack looked horrified. Danny’s eyes were vacant again. 

“I got lost in the woods yesterday and tripped over his empty grave.” Dash looked away from them and at the floor. “He somehow lasted a whole month buried out there. He had just crawled out of the grave not too long before I got there.” 

Danny had started shaking and Jack shushed him. Jazz wrapped her arms around him in a hug. 

“It’s okay.” Jack said. “You’re safe now. You’re back home.” Jack turned to look back up at Dash. 

“Thank you. Thank you for bringing him home to us.” 

Dash nodded. He was about to turn away when something caught his eye. 

Dash saw Danny’s eyes flash an unsettling green. 

What if his mom had been right?

[heimdallsram]

 ━━━━ masterlist. soundtrack. archive of our own. taglist.

title: perennial

pairing: heimdall x female! goddess! reader

"You were a goddess of oaths and vows. It was only fitting that Odin would

bind you to his service in only the most ironic way that he knew how: marriage."

this fanfiction contains the following: domestic violence, blood, gore, choking, violent sexual content, bad BDSM etiquette, non-consensual somnophilia, blood drinking, unhealthy relationships, and much more content that may be sensitive to some readers. reader discretion is advised.

*for inquiries about the taglist, please dm me and i will add you to it.

 Odin was a terrifying man. While he appeared the genteel, kindly older god with an inquisitive twinkle in his only good eye, he was anything but—to most, or all outside of Asgard, he was a monster who did not deserve his place. He was a manipulative man, a smart and narcissistic one that had driven the best of them into their early, shallow little graves before they were brought back again to serve as his Einherjar. He had exiled his wife, after all, sealed her existence to Midgard and corrupted the Valkyries that were loyal to her—twisted her own son’s heart to her, though she had a hand in that as well, cursing him with immortality and invulnerability as she did. Freya—Frigg, as she was known in Asgard—could not be blamed for wanting to protect her child. But not giving the same regard to Odin… she had sealed her fate more quickly that way, and for the good of all others, Odin had never succeeded in that particular spell.

 You supposed that was why he kept you around, at first. A goddess of oaths and agreements was detrimental to him if left unchecked. You held all of his hidden secrets, his deals, his vows with magics, his pacts, his promises, his wishes, in the palm of your hands each time he made one, sifting through the forbidden knowledge with a careful eye. Each time a marriage vow, or any other form of a promise, was created, you would know, and it would be made known to you the promises and agreements made in their specified vows; just like now, like today, as you bore witness to the violent, almost… bloody fight between man and wife.

 An insipid dalliance with a lover had stolen his wife’s heart from him, you recalled. The words shuttled through your mind painfully and quickly, like daggers of ice. With each vow broken—love, eternity, fidelity, faithfulness—you felt the bindings of their fates rapidly unwind like a loose spool of silken thread. Spin, spin, spin, and it was all falling apart before your eyes, through a magic window framed with wood and lit with warm candles.

 The woman cried as the man curled his fists into her hair and pulled. Her pleas did not reach his heart, for he had shielded it against her—against everything she stood for. You could not pity her for what she had done. Instead, even as she was brought to her knees and a leather belt lashed across her face, you felt fiercely proud of her for taking control of her happiness despite the pain it was now bringing her. Her husband, while feeling the betrayal keenly, was not faithful nor was he in any position to feel wronged, for he had committed the same crime and found himself innocent.

 When the breaking of the vows had made themselves known to you, you had risen from your bed in Odin’s grand hall, bundled yourself in warm furs and silks, and braved the chill night as it rose over you in an ill tide. Your leaving had not gone unnoticed; there had been several eyes upon you as you had made your way down the frozen, muddy path and to the home sequestered among many others. Munin, loyal creature that he was, had flown and followed and remained at your side upon the bench you now sat on, watching the events unfold as you knew they would.

 It was another version of foresight that the All-Father found… pleasing to have in his employ. It was the only way you could explain the way his mouth had twisted into that friendly, yet not so kind, smile when you had spoken to him of his broken fatherly vows to Thor—the ones he had unwittingly made after bringing a child into the world. Love, warmth, care; Thor had been denied them all. It had not even taken a teenage goddess, newly minted and born from the previous, to point that out.

 You could not do as Heimdall could and read thoughts and intent. You were not as the Norns were, able to pick through decisions and fate and weave together a predictable future. You did not even have the sooth saying abilities that the Giants had, long gone as they were. The vows and oaths spoke to you and you would obey; that was all that Odin knew. All he would ever know, for now; he had no need of the knowledge that you were both judge and executioner.

 “It’s kind of a cold night to be witnessing vows, isn’t it?” Odin was never obvious in his appearances with you. He was always quiet, always contemplative, desiring the upper hand always. Much like yourself, he had abandoned his thinner robes for more thickly lined ones; even his eye patch was lined with fur, perhaps to keep the aching loss of his eye safe from the cold. Perched on his shoulder was Huginn, tilting his head to and fro, not quite looking at you but through you. “When I was told you had left, I almost didn’t believe it.”

 It was a lie, of course, in lieu of acknowledging the way the woman’s husband had abandoned his wife on the floor to take a swig of bitter ale.

 Your answering smile was small. “Much as we are all slaves to fate, so am I to the oaths made between those slaves. They call and I must answer, you understand. Even in the cold of night.”

 “Sometimes your disrespect is refreshing,” Odin sighed lightly. To you, it almost sounded tired; as if speaking had simply exhausted him. “Not like Thor’s or Sif’s or… Hel, Frigg’s.”

 You kept painfully quiet at the mention of the former Queen’s name. Instead, your eyes remained trained on the window where you could see the husband come into view once more, ale on his lips and beard and his shirt abandoned. There was nothing you could do to hide the grimace as the man hit his wife so hard that she rolled on to her back, slammed her nose into the baseboard of their bed, and coughed blood. Beside you, Odin did not flinch.

 “Well, don’t take too long,” he said, finally, with a tone of amiability. He patted you on your shoulder like an old man might as if speaking to a good friend, Munin leaping into his arm and melding with his flesh. “Big things to do in the morning, little time to do it, you know.”

 You did not look away from the woman as she rose to her feet, fists raised and trembling. “Of course, All-Father.”

 He vanished into a flurry of black birds with golden eyes. You paid it no heed. You continued to watch as the woman began to fight back, little by little, inch by painstaking inch, until both she and her husband were bleeding, laughing lightly at each other, stroking each other’s bloodied hair and bruised cheeks.

 Only then did you rise to your feet, your cloak dragging in the mud and soiling the white fur as you approached the door to the warm, violence blessed home. You knocked on the door only once, knuckles white against the wood. You tucked your hands carefully against your stomach, folded neatly, and schooled your expression into something… other. Something placid and stern and knowing. Something only your powers could give you.

 Your feelings did not matter when it came to this. Could never matter, in the end.

 When the door opened, your stomach curled unpleasantly. They had made haphazard attempts to clean themselves up: streaked, wet blood here and there, hair pulled back tightly. The husband had thrown on a shirt; the wife had tied an apron around her neck to hide the belt lashes across her chest and ribs. A deep sigh threatened to escape your lungs. All slights had been made right between them, their smiles dimmed with confusion as they took you in: a stranger in the night, dressed in rich silks and fine furs, your hair pulled back into a severe tail at the nape of your neck.

 “I apologize for the lateness,” you began, your voice monotone and lifeless as you edged past the husband, past the door frame and into the home within. Blood stained the floor at your feet, mingled with ale and spit and other indiscernible bodily fluids. A stool sat in front of the hearth, an abandoned knitting lying helpless as it smoldered under the heat. In the corner, sleeping pitifully, was a baby, cocooned in warmth and shielded by a newly woven basket. You took in all of this with one sweep of your gaze, your heart pounding in your chest in a crude drum beat. “But you have broken your vows, and they called to me. I must obey.”

 It was always a little heart breaking to see the way their faces dropped when they realized who—what—you were. You never forgot how their eyebrows would sink low over their eyes, their mouths fall open and slack for just a moment before words and pleas bubbled from their lips, the way a wife might freeze or a husband may raise his sword to you. It was always the same variation of reactions, one never quite the same as another but similar in all respects, and you had come to expect them all at some point, when your guilt had failed to override the sense of duty you now held to yourself.

 Neither noticed as a breeze, sweet smelling and of sage and lavender, quietly closed the open door and flashed pale lilac. It would not open until dawn, just as the sun peered over the horizon, and the floorboards and fur rugs of the home had been soaked in more blood than had been shed by both husband and wife. In the corner, cooing innocently with a bundled sprig of mint and holly in its little fist, the baby awoke to brilliant, sparkling rubies dripping from the roof like mother’s milk.

 You would not be there when the surrounding inhabitants woke for their day and slowly noticed their neighbors were not outside as per usual with their child in tow. You would not be there as a comely old woman made her way into the house and gasped at the grisly sight before her. You would not be there as the child was scooped up and brought to safety, even though the threat was already over. You would not be there as the local carpenter tried, and failed, to scrape the rune burned over the headboard in shining lilac light off, not to disturb another family who may occupy the space.

 You were never there.

 Instead, you would shed your clothes upon your return, as nude as the day you had been born from the flesh of the former Var, and sit in the morning sun on your stool, unblinking and unseeing. You would bathe yourself and cleanse your skin of the blood you had shed, bundle your clothing for washing, and carefully weave your hair into something presentable. You would present yourself as if you had never claimed two souls in the night, as if you had nothing to do with the events at all—Odin would see to it if fate did not.

 You would drink, smile, and remain placid. Your place was secure. Odin needed you and you would keep going as you were, Freya’s parting words to you echoing in your mind like a plaintive wail.

 Never trust him.

 And you knew she had been right when your morning was interrupted by a servant carrying a letter, Sif right behind her, dressed in her immaculate blue gown and her hair like spun gold. She appeared apprehensive, not at your nudity as you accepted the letter but at your potential reaction. You could already feel the loom of oaths and vows spinning as the golden haired goddess shut the door behind her, parting the wax seal with your thumb and exposing the contents within.

 ‘[Name],

 It pains me to do this, but you leave me with no choice. You are to be bethrothed to Heimdall, in all ways that matter. I cannot trust you as you are now, you understand.’

 It was not signed, but it did not have to be. Your disrespect to Odin had gone on long enough, it seemed, and he could not tolerate it any longer. It was both a punishment and a leash, one shorter than he gave most. Thor had a longer leash than this, and his was studded with proverbial spikes and metaphorical shame. You had been expecting something like this to occur, but… Heimdall.

 You burned the letter over a candle at your bedside, watching the edges flicker and turn pitch. Odin might think he was clever, subjecting you to his most loyal dog and binding you to him in the way you thought worst, but you always had a plan, a card up your sleeve should you ever end up in one of his schemes as your Queen had done.

 Heimdall was an itch you could not scratch. A mystery you could not unravel. His only oaths were to Odin, his only promises to Odin; his loyalty was unmatched. But just like any dog, there would come a day where it would bite the hand that feeds it, and you would make sure it would come to pass one way or another.

 You made an oath that morning as the sun rose to its apex in the sky. And when it descended, heralding the arrival of Odin’s beloved hound and a night of festivities for the equinox, your mind was a shield and your mouth a blade.

 The moment Heimdall laid eyes on you, eyes shining and fuchsia and a burning shade of Bifrost as he tried and failed to read you, sitting quietly in a corner and entertaining the woeful drunken stupor of Baldur’s widow with your doubloon gold gaze and a tiny, sly smile on your face, you knew you had won.

 But that victory, you would soon come to find, would not come without a price.

| next.

[auffilet]

Redstone Tears (#0387)

by joehillssays

Page 1 of 12: Hermitcraft fanfiction. One day, ZombieCleo woke up and the sun had risen and the moon was setting and she was less sleepy than when she went to bed earlier and the top of her tower had been stolen. "My tower top has been stolen!" said Page 2 of 12: Cleo. "Who could ahve stolen it! I bet if was Cloud from Final Fantasy 7 or possibly Cloud from where Dropbox stores its data or Cloud from Laktiku's flying cat." Clouds, of course, are the enemies of all towers, as their misty tenrils creep through Page 3 of 12: matter, intersecting it with wreaking abandon. "To the cloud!" SHOUT CASTED WinCLEO! Mumbo heard Cleo and saw that the top of her tower was stolen and also wanted to help her get it back so the rain would not fall on her hair and other things in her Page 4 of 12: house. Cleo and Mumbo set off not holding hands because that would b weird and this is not that kind of fanfic and they found a horse who could fly because Dinnerbone forgot to fix his game, and they found a second horse too that could also fly because a Page 5 of 12: horse can only carry one rider per horse saddle and wearing two saddles is silly. " HAY HEIGHbors, we're taking you to the sky to fight the CLOUDS!" Thanks! said the people with names in this story! Page 6 of 12: Our heroes flew far and wide searching for the cloud who was the cloud who took the top of the tower and instead they found TinFoilChef. "I am suprised," he said, "That Joe didn't think of me earlier when he said Cleo needed a FOIL for this story. He is Page 7 of 12: not smart." There was no extra horse for TFC, so like the classic fortress he is, he used teamwork to fly with concussion grenades. They convened at the convenient cloud gas station on the corner and saw a cloud with her tower top and Page 8 of 12: they stopped mist and said, "Hey that is not yours. Our horses will now bite and kick you." The horses bit and kicked the cloud, but the cloud was made of gaseuousoeusos water and the kicks and bites were not very effective. Page 9 of 12: The cloud hit the horses with the top of the tower, and since the density and mass of the stone was sufficient, the horses got hurt. Cleo and mumbo jumped away from the horses and did not get hurt and mumbo thgreew Page 10 of 12: redstone dust into the cloud. The dust into the cloud. The dust overreacted with the water vapor and totally like made the cloud get not as wet and the cloud dropped the tower top and cried redstone tears. Cleo and TFC grabbed the tower top and fixed it to the lower portion of Page 11 of 12: the tower and then they smiled and everyone laughed. Laughter is important because it shows they are friends and everything worked out for everyone except the horses who now live in the ground except cleo brought them back as zombies but they are Page 12 of 12: hooved beasts and can't dig out of their shallow graves and they are not laughing. Neither is the cloud. The end! By Joe Hills Original content do not steeeeeel.

[bangchanzz]

The Bet

Summary: You and your boyfriend Chan make a bet and the loser must do what the winner says for a full twenty-four hours. When Chan loses, you make it your mission to get your boyfriend to do the one thing he absolutely refuses to do: relax.

Warnings: SMUTTTTTTT, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talk, Chan being cute and horny in the morning, some angst

A/N: Why am I uploading this at 5AM? Who’s to say. But it will be coming up in therapy (no it will not my therapist cannot know I write fanfiction)

Chapter Two

8:00AM—4:00PM

You wake still in your boyfriend’s arms.

He’s completely knocked out still, lost somewhere in a deep sleep.

You let yourself lie in bed as you slowly wake up, taking in the soft morning light pouring through your bedroom windows and the subtle boyish scent you recognized as uniquely Chan’s.

You turn over in his arms to face him, but you’re struck dumb by how handsome he looks in his peaceful slumber.

Before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re tracing your fingertips along every inch of him; just a gentle brush of skin, but it was enough to send sparks flying down your arm and straight into your core.

You’re right in the middle of studying the gentle curve of his cheekbones when his soft brown eyes flutter open.

“Sorry,” you whisper, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He hums his response, eyes falling shut once more as he squeezes your body against his.

“Its alright,” he finally says, his voice gravely. “I don’t mind being woken up if you do it like that every time.”

You chuckle, holding him tighter. “Good morning,” you murmur into his chest.

“Good morning, Princess,” he rasps in his morning voice, pulling back to give you a kiss on the forehead.

“Come here,” you say, grabbing his face and pulling his mouth to yours.

The kiss is lazy and delicate, the two of you simply enjoying each other’s company.

It doesn’t take long for a fire to ignite in your stomach as youre throwing a leg over Chan’s hips and grinding against him, earning a chuckle from your boyfriend.

“Needy this morning, are we?” he teases.

Your responding whine has him laughing against your mouth. Next thing you know he’s rolling over onto his back and pulling you on top of him, never breaking your kiss.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispers against your lips. “You’re in control today, remember?”

You pull back with a grin, remembering that little fact yourself. His honey eyes follow your every move, patiently waiting for a response. Instead of responding, you shuffle yourself down his body until youre settled between his legs, your eyes glued to his already erect cock.

Chan gasps as you gently wrap your hands around him, your tongue licking a stripe up the length of him.

His moan of ecstasy is near sinful as you take his cock in your mouth, your tongue swirling around the head as you use your hands to pump the base.

Chan is now a moaning and gasping mess underneath you, his pleasure barely contained as you worked.

You moan against his cock, Chan’s back arching as a gasp escapes his lips.

You love getting your boyfriend this worked up because in your opinion, a fucked-out Chan is the eighth wonder of the world.

His hand is winding its way through your hair and begins to slowly pull you off him.

“Please,” he pants, propping himself up with an elbow to look at you with blown out pupils, “Let me fuck you.”

You press a slow, sloppy kiss against the tip of his cock before pulling your body up to meet your lips to his.

He’s kissing you with everything he’s got as he positions himself at your entrance, entering you devastatingly slow. His breathing becomes shallow pants, your breath mingling with his as you press your foreheads together.

He fucks you slowly and passionately, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You’re mine,” he growls, grabbing your hips and positioning them so he can enter you fully. His voice softens, “Say it.”

“I’m yours, Chan,” you gasp out, the feeling of being so full of him more than you can bear. You’re stretched so blissfully around his cock you think you could die here.

“Good girl,” he whispers into your ear, his hot breath sending fire straight into your molten core.

His pace is slow and steady as you both reach your highs, his big arms holding you as close as possible as you both shudder and gasp.

It’s not long before Chan is fast asleep again, and you’re slipping out of bed to get ready for the day.

After your usual bathroom routine you throw on one of Chan’s t shirts and do you hair before padding into the kitchen to make some breakfast.

Several pancakes and many pieces of bacon later, you’re once again walking into your bedroom holding a tray overflowing with food. You set it down on the corner of your dresser as you slip inside, making your way over to bed to rouse your sleeping boyfriend.

You gently place yourself on top of him, smothering his face with delicate kisses.

You know he’s awake when his arms circle your waist and pull you closer, and with a low hum he’s kissing you back.

A giggle slips past your lips as he squeezes you tighter, his kisses becoming more and more dramatic.

“Good morning part two?” he says, smiling up at you.

“The remix,” you add, laughing.

“Sorry I keep falling asleep,” he says sheepishly, offering you a small grin.

You shake your head. “Don’t apologize, you needed the sleep,” you tell him with a warm smile.

At that he’s relaxing under your touch, his smile finally meeting his eyes.

“I made you breakfast,” you say between kisses.

“You did?” he asks, his eyes widening in surprise as you remove yourself from the bed and grab the tray off food from the dresser. “What did you make?”

You grin at him. “My famous banana and macadamia nut pancakes,” you announce, bringing the tray to him.

“With the coconut syrup?” he asks, looking like a kid on Christmas.

“Of course,” you reply, setting the tray on his lap and crawling onto your side of the bed.

Chan laughs with glee as he hands you one of the plates and begins to drown his own pancakes with syrup.

You use this time to turn on your bedroom TV, selecting your favorite anime and picking up right where you left off last episode.

Chan finally notices and groans. “I knew you were going to make me watch anime with you.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “You watch it, too!” you exclaim, piercing him with a glare.

He gives you a flat look. “I wouldn’t complain if you just watched good anime.”

You pout at him, earning yourself a laugh.

It doesn’t take Chan long to finish his plate before he’s padding into the kitchen for the seconds you knew to make.

He dutifully watches anime with you, one arm holding your waist and the other your thigh, his fingertips rubbing lazy circles on the exposed skin.

Until the doorbells rings.

Your boyfriend instantly tenses up, but you shush him with a wave of your hand.

“I’m expecting someone,” you say as you slip out of bed, throwing on a pair of pajama shorts.

“Now?” Chan demands. “I’m naked!”

You wink at him before you leave the room, closing the door behind you.

Opening the front door, you’re greeted by the two masseuses you booked for the afternoon. You let them in and show them where they can set up, slipping back inside your bedroom as they get ready.

Chan is sitting on the bed fully dressed, staring at you like you betrayed him.

“Are you going to tell me who’s here?” he demands as you plop down on the bed.

“You’ll see,” you say cryptically, giving the masseuses the fifteen minutes to prepare they had asked for.

When time was up you lead your boyfriend into the living room where the two massage tables were now set up.

“A massage?” Chan asks, incredulous.

One of the masseuses greets you both and tells you to strip if you were comfortable while they both turned around.

“In case you haven’t realized by now,” you say to your boyfriend as you shuck your clothes off onto the floor, “since you won’t do it yourself, I’ve meticulously designed this entire day to force you to relax for once in your life. So take your clothes off and let’s get a massage.”

He only stares at you as you climb onto the table and cover yourself with a sheet, waving at him to do the same.

He finally listens, shedding his own clothes and lying down on the other massage table.

You let the masseuses know you’re both ready and they go straight to work.

The massage is blissful for you and life changing for Chan.

His masseuse had said that they had never worked on anyone that tense before, to which Chan only laughed.

Your boyfriend helped the masseuses pack up their things as you ran the two of you a hot bath. Seconds after you heard the front door shut, Chan peaked his head into the bathroom.

“Well, that was a nice surprise,” he says, winding his arms around you from behind.

You hum in response, smiling as you add some bath tonic to the water.

“Bath time,” you announce, shedding your clothes once more.

Chan laughs as he removes his own clothes, his eyes crinkled into happy little crescents.

He gets into the tub first, letting you position yourself between his legs with your back pressed to his chest.

He tucks a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, planting a soft kiss on your shoulder.

“What did I do to deserve you?” he muses, pressing several more kisses along your shoulder and neck.

“You’re you,” you reply, taking one of his hands in your own. “That’s enough.”

You feel him shake his head. “That’s never been enough.”

Sadness floods your insides as you turn to face him, heart bleeding for the boy in your arms.

“You have always been enough,” you say sternly, your eyes holding his empty stare.

“I wish I believed you,” he said sadly, lying back in the water and resting his head on the rim of the tub.

You sigh, leaning back against him in the warm water, wishing you could give him more than just your presence.

[degenderates]

as you may have noticed i removed the link to my sideblog from my bio/about, and i will likely do the same from the other end soon. because i want this to be my “““real blog””” for writing & other things I publish, whether officially or unofficially, i don’t want to be explicitly associated with maven m. as a fandom creator (my sideblog/ao3/etc). of course being on the internet since forever and having lots of cross-contamination, it’s not really a severing of ties, more like...letting go of a string and letting it float around somewhere lol. maybe at some point i’ll try to make myself less traceable but at the very least, if someone wants to find my sicko fanfiction, they’ll have to go looking. let them dig even if the grave is shallow, whatever.

[holdoncallfailed]

i am once again asking. why is there no fanfiction for danny boyle’s debut feature film SHALLOW GRAVE (1994). open your eyes to the possibilities here people

[1895locktva]

Ways to die

— A Sherlock Holmes fanfiction

Here on Ao3

———

The most ironic lie ever told is that soldiers are prepared for battle knowing that they might die.

Nonsense. They may know, but they never truly bevieve in it. At least not completely, not in the depths of their souls, of their hearts. Even the most skeptical maintains that spark of faith, that animal instinct of survival as such as the human instinct of hope. The human being is, after all, a hopeless optimist. Everyone thinks they will be the exception, and it's not until they feel the bullet piercing the skin, digging deep into the flesh and breaking the bones, or the bayonet digging into their lungs, that the penny drops.

With the blond medical officer it was different. He held out hope when the lead bullet had pierced his collarbone — even as he landed from the impact on a slashed rib from the chest of the soldier he was trying to mend; Even when the bone ruptured his femoral artery. The pain hadn't been enough to knock him unconscious, and he'd been grateful for that. That way he could stake the blood until Murray arrived, he thought dizzily.

He knew he would make it through. He had to.

His ordinance arrived far too late.

They found the body leaning against a trench. It was already cold — they had to retreat, and were not able to return until days later. Flies surrounded it, attracted by the putrid smell of old blood, and the soldier hardly recognized him, so disfigured was his face, eternally anguished.

He had never seen him like this. The doctor had been always in a good mood, smiling or playing around. But that cerulean blue left no doubt.

They dug a shallow grave — Murray insisted he be buried alone, not roughly dumped in a communal grave, left to rot with dozens of other corpses. The commanders checked his credentials – an officer. They allowed it.

They wanted to break his fingers. His right hand was faithfully brandishing the scalpel with force. He had done his duty to the very end.

Murray did not allow it — let him be buried with it. The doctor in his element, he had said softly to the churned earth.

There were no honors, and the ordinance was the only one who prostrated beside the grave until he had finished the inscriptions on the makeshift wooden headstone. Then he got up, chased away the tears and left.

"Dr. John H. Watson

1851 - 1880

The kindest and bravest man I have ever known

Beloved comrade and illustrious doctor

May the Lord receive his soul"

——————————

Many miles away from that miserable place, an unremarkable consulting detective finishes a melancholy, pained tune. He was in his darkest mood, brooding and downcast. He had been like this for a few days, the housekeeper would tell his brother hours later, as a doctor carried a slender, unconscious, convulsing body into a hansom.

The young man gently lowers his violin into the comfortable armchair opposite to his — the one that had always been unoccupied. And, somehow he knew, would always remain that way.

He then picks up the syringe and draws the liquid up to the plunger.

———

Ways to die is a Sherlock Holmes fanfic of short — or not-so-short — one shots of some scenarios where either Mr. Sherlock Holmes or Dr. John Watson could have departed from this world.

Most fit in the canon context, but there will be exceptions. Each chapter will be a different scenario. Also on Ao3.

Hope you all like it

[bentnotbroken1fanfiction]

I posted 768 times in 2022

That's 521 more posts than 2021!

54 posts created (7%)

714 posts reblogged (93%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@memes-saved-me

@bentnotbroken1fanfiction

@meowmeowbilly

@lazybakerart

@ariesbilly

I tagged 179 of my posts in 2022

#harringrove - 49 posts

#billy hargrove - 44 posts

#steve harrington - 25 posts

#writing - 11 posts

#max mayfield - 9 posts

#fanfiction - 8 posts

#bruises - 8 posts

#lol - 8 posts

#stranger things - 8 posts

#bruises on both my knees for you - 8 posts

Longest Tag: 127 characters

#fanfic writers and readers are the only ones that care so much about him that we see every fucked up thing that happened to him

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Posting something that I added to AO3 a long time ago but can't find on my blog. If you've already read it, sorry. But I thought I'd add it to tumblr while I wait to finish some things I'm working on.

Billy lights a cigarette. Not because he needs one, he doesn't need much of anything anymore, but to give his mouth something to do while he fills Harrington's grave with dirt. 

The pretty boy owes him big time for this. Billy had plans for tonight. Plans that he had to cancel because someone decided to stumble into a den of the undead. And yeah, he didn't have to drag his bitten and dying ass out here and give him his blood, but he couldn't just let an ass as fine as that become little more than a snack. 

And sure , maybe his reasons for doing this are that shallow, but he's still doing him a solid. Billy never wanted to sire anyone, so this is totally out of character for him to begin with. Harrington is damn lucky he's still pretty. 

He heaves more dirt over him. 

Why the fuck was he even at that warehouse anyway? He had zero business being on that side of town, on his side of town. Maybe he should ask him once he climbs his way free. Then smack him upside the head for being a complete moron. Who walks into empty creepy buildings in the middle of the night? 

Harrington apparently. 

IU must not have a class on street smarts. 

He huffs a laugh at the thought of the boy taking that kind of class as he continues his work, and it only takes a few more seconds to fill it all in. 

He pats the dirt with the shovel and smirks, "Sleep tight, sweetheart. See you tomorrow." 

-

Harrington crawls into his new life as gracefully as Billy thought he would, which is not at all . He stumbles away from the grave on shaky legs and searches around frantically, fear and panic evident on his dirt smeared face. Once he sees Billy sitting on the hood of his Camaro, his eyes grow comically wide. 

"What the fuck? What the fuck is going on? Did I just climb out of a fucking grave? Did you bury me alive, Hargrove?" 

"Calm down, Princess. I saved your sorry ass. You'd be a bloodless corpse in a basement right now if I hadn't gotten you out of there." 

"Out of where? What are you talking about?" 

"Holy shit, you have no idea what you walked in on, do you?" 

Confused, he answers, "No?" 

"Jesus Christ, you really are an idiot." He throws the other boy a towel to get some of the grime off his skin. 

"Gee, thanks." He scowls, but he takes the offering and starts wiping himself off. 

Billy sighs, "I don't know why you were at that warehouse, Harrington, but whoever sent you probably wanted you to die," He watches the towel pause on his face, "or at the very least, beat to shit."

"I was there to hook up with a guy." He admits quietly. "He picked the meet up place."

And Billy knows he was the only human in that building last night, so that means that one of the other vampires had set him up. It's not like Billy's never hooked up with a dinner date, but that wasn't what was going on there. He had thought it was just an accident and that they had gotten carried away. But no, they had planned to suck him dry until Billy intervened. 

It pisses him off because they don't have to do that anymore. They don't have to wait so long between feedings now. They don't get so lost in their hunger that they kill all of their meals. So killing humans these days is unnecessary. It's an archaic practice that Billy despises. 

Fuck. 

Now he would have to watch out for those bastards. 

"I know it was stupid, and I should have left when I saw how creepy the place was, but I just really needed to get laid." 

He laughs at that. He can't help it. "I wouldn't have thought King Steve would end up literally dying for some dick." 

"Oh, fuck you, Hargrove." He growls. "Act like you don't gag for it too." 

Billy raises a brow. "Gag for it, huh? No, I'm not the one gagging, pretty boy." 

See the full post

138 notes - Posted June 5, 2022

#4

Posting a little bit of that Harringrove A/B/O I wrote last night. It needs some work but it's been fun working on it.

-

The first thing that Billy notices when he walks into his assigned cabin is that there is an odd smell in the air. It's faint. Nothing super obvious. Nothing harsh or musty, but just…different. Almost pleasant. He was prepared for all the insane amounts of Alpha pheromones permeating the camp grounds, the testosterone, even the B.O., so it was a welcome scent to be honest. 

He quickly forgets about it though, when he leaves to sign in and get the schedule for this weeks activities and the list of campers under his watch. 

But at the mess hall later, his nose twitches and he realizes that he's picking up the same scent he found in the cabin. It seems slightly familiar now…and it's coming from the camp counselors table. 

He isn't sure who it's coming from, but now that he's closer to the source he can pick up the familiar underlying smell…it almost smells like Max when she…

But there's no way. This is an Alpha camp. It's impossible for anyone to get in without having already presented…but yet…he's definitely picking up omega. 

He looks around in alarm trying to see if anyone else is noticing this. But everyone is laughing, eating, and horsing around. He's the only one that seems to be bothered. 

What the fuck is going on? Maybe he's imagining things. He's gotta be. 

Right? 

Yeah. He's just sensitive lately. That's all. 

So he ignores the feeling in his gut that something isn't right and eats his dinner and jokes with the other counselors and tries to hide the fact that his nose is tingling and his skin is itchy. 

But later, when he walks back into the cabin to meet the brats he's in charge of, he stops dead in his tracks. He can't ignore his instinct here. 

It's Jasmine…and honey…and something woodsy. And while it's not really strong, it's concentrated and more noticeable.  

The other counselor assigned to this cabin is already chatting with the kids and when he looks over to Billy he lifts a hand in greeting and Billy just knows. 

It's him. It's definitely him. 

He's the one.

Billy introduces himself. 

Turns out, the guys name is Steve Harrington and he's about to be a senior at Hawkins High. He's in the program to gain some extra curriculars for his college resume.  

And he's the prettiest thing that Billy has ever seen.

But he can't ask questions here. They've got a cabin full of newly presented 13 and 14 year olds. It's not the time or place to discuss this. 

So he just stays awake all night, keeping watch. Just in case. 

But nothing happens. 

That day or the next. 

But Billy does notice that as the days pass, the smell strengthens a little and now it's  affecting him. It puts him on edge. Makes him want to get close. Makes him want to protect…and that is not something that happens to him.

So he's gotta be right.

The only problem is that he doesn't know how to go about this. Steve Harrington seems to be pretty popular among the staff, the counselors, and the kids alike. He's asked around and he found out he's somewhat of a leader at his school. Nickname King Steve. 

So someone like that? Probably wouldn't want someone like Billy questioning him about his status. 

But he can't ignore it. It would be wrong. So he musters up the courage to approach him one night after the kids go to bed and they're all hanging out by the fire. 

"Hey, Harrington. Got a minute?"

See the full post

147 notes - Posted June 10, 2022

#3

So for me, Steve's six little nuggets speech was less endearing and more upsetting. Mostly because of the reason behind him wanting that so badly.

The boy is lonely as fuck.

He wants a big family so he won't ever be alone again. If he has kids, he will always have someone to love and who loves him unconditionally no matter what.

So, yeah. It more broke my heart than made me go "Aw Steve. He's so adorable wanting a bunch of kids and an RV to go on road trips with. UwU."

194 notes - Posted July 6, 2022

#2

Based on this lovely art by @angryhuangyu

Just imagine Billy waking up in Steve's body... 

He would wake up and stretch...and realize his ribs don't hurt like they should. His head isn't throbbing and his lip isn't pulling tight. It's strange because, after the argument last night, they definitely should be. So he opens his eyes and is met with an unfamiliar ceiling in an unfamiliar room. But when he looks in the mirror he does see a familiar face.

And of course, there's a freak out because what the actually fuck, but he would quickly deduce that if he's in Harrington's body, that means Harrington is in his. 

And if Billy had a typical white picket fence family, he would totally take the opportunity that fate has given him and run with it. He would love to just fuck with King Steve. He would love to just relax in his castle, drinking fancy booze, watching TV, and taking a dip in that sweet inviting swimming pool. 

But he doesn't have that kind of family. 

He doesn't have a nice suburban dad that thrives on a strong sense of family and community. He has the kind that thrives on pain and punishment. 

Which means Harrington is in serious trouble. Because he knows that he's going to wake up and wonder why he feels like shit. He's going to get up and try to leave. (He won't be able to because Billy is grounded.) He will come face to face with his Dad, not knowing what he can and can't say, not knowing the rules. 

He's going to say or do something wrong.

And then he's quickly going to find out the secret Billy has been trying so fucking hard to keep. 

And yeah, that fact would be irritating and embarrassing as fuck, but that's not what has him in a panic trying to find the stupid keys to the Beemer. 

It's the fact that as much shit as Billy gives him, Harrington doesn't deserve to be on the receiving side of Neil Hargrove's anger. 

No one but Billy does. 

199 notes - Posted July 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

It's been so long since Billy has heard another person's voice, but now he hears her. Soft but clear in the red tinted darkness. 

"Dear, Billy." 

It's Max. 

His heart beats just a little faster because that's impossible. She can't be here. No one can be here. No one but him. Him and the monster. 

But despite what he knows as a fact, his ears are still picking up that ghostly sound. 

"I don't know if you can even hear this." 

He follows it. Drawn like a moth to a flame. It's not like he wants Max to be subjected to this hellscape, but…

He stops where the voice is the loudest. 

At a gravestone….

With his name on it.

What the fuck?

"Ever since you left, everything's been," she pauses, "….a total disaster."

He looks around. She's not actually there, but he can still sense her presence. 

What the hell is going on?

He waits for her to keep going, but can only hear her quiet breaths, so he sits down, back against the mossy stone slab.

Waiting.

"For awhile we tried to be happy," she finally continues, "Normal. "

There's so much pain in that word. Even though he can't see her, he knows she's been suffering. 

"I know that's impossible…too much has happened…nothing will ever be normal again…" 

Billy understands. God how he understands. 

"I just…" her voice falters. "I just hope that at least you're finally happy…wherever you are." 

His throat tightens, because he's not…He's not happy. And…

"I'm right here, Max." He whispers to the empty space before him. "I'm right here." 

252 notes - Posted April 13, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[northstarfan]

2, 3 and 6?

From the 'fic meme here: 2. What fanfic do you wish you got more response on?

Of the pack, I'd say "More Alive to Tenderness". It's the one I've spent the most time on in ages, I know folks are reading it, it gets the occasional kudos, but no one seems to have much to say on the recent chapters. And it's not surprising - it's a rare pair for not-exactly-beloved entry in the Star Trek franchise. But still. 3. What’s a fic idea that you have but haven’t written yet?

Ahhh, Fonte!!! Why do you summon the plot bunnies from their shallow graves in unconsecrated ground? XD One that I'm on the fence about continuing (and tbh, probably won’t) is a Nick-centric 'fic for The Quarry fandom that would look at the impact the werewolf curse had on him, and give some actual space to Eliza and Silas' story. And be absolutely messed up, because horror. XD But none of these are popular characters, and I don't especially feel like putting my limited time and energy into another 'fic that'll get minimal engagement. 6. Have you written any fanfictions featuring OCs? If so, elaborate!

All of that tends to go into my RP games. But I do have a couple of OCs in "More Alive to Tenderness", though - both part of the Borg Reclamation Project. One's Nuvol, a Vulcan ex-Borg who's been with Hugh since their original cube was cut off from the Collective. She's been the administrator of the BRP since Hugh was sent to The Artifact. The Project is running smoothly, but the lack of contact from Hugh leaves her concerned. Viksera is a Tellarite, former gropo and head of security for the BRP. Her sister was on a deep-space exploratory vessel taken by the Borg; Vik is fiercely devoted to the BRP and its mission, but no small part of her clings to the hope that her sister will be one of the xBs that arrives at the Project for help.

[husbandhannie]

guest room

pairing: generic male lead ("james mascott") x f! reader

words: 525

genre: angst, horror (? there's a ghost)

warnings: major character death, murder description, pregnancy

structure notes: snippets [like this] are flashbacks.

a/n: i read jackie's (@97-liners) horror fic and got in the mood to write something. this is not fanfiction for obvious reasons. i'm really not good at this, just writing this because a very vivid image came to my mind.

taglist: @itsveronicaxxx @zurikyo @husbandhoshi @kimhyejin3108 @starlightjoong

the smell of your garden's hazel shrubs fills the guest room, just like it did the first night james slept in your bed.

you knew that night that you'd regret inviting him into your room. a distant friend had called you to ask if his distant friend could stay in your remote cottage. it had been a stormy night, and you had given refuge to distant friends of distant friends before, so you agreed.

james mascott was a handsome bastard. more handsome than any man you had ever met before, dressed in a sleek suit and carrying a set of steak knives. "you never know when you might find good steak", he had said charmingly, "and i would hate to use a blunt knife on a beauty". when he mentioned the hazel smell in the guest room you had offered him, you invited him to your bed - jumping at the chance to feel his skin against yours.

the sounds of the front door snapping and the stairs creaking fill the house, like they did when james would come back from the garden after watering your shrubs, his muddy footprints etched on the staircase. "the marks make it a home, my love", he had winked when you protested, "but i'll clean it up for you".

["what do you mean you're pregnant?"

james is shouting. he never has before.

"just that. that i'm pregnant", you can feel your heart sinking, "i thought you'd be happier".

"why? did you think i'd want a child with a lonely witch who lives in the forest?", he sneers, "you're a good fuck, but that's all you are".]

you open the door of the guest room, the steel handle feeling warm under your skin despite the winter chill. you walk to your bedroom door, your footsteps quiet on the creaky wooden floor.

["no", you struggle to breathe, "don't do this".

"and why not", james tightens his hand around your neck, "when this will haunt me if you live?"

your hands leave scratches on his arm, his other hand reaching for the steak knife.]

you turn the handle of your bedroom door, and it glides open to welcome its owner. your eyes scan the figure sleeping next to james - she looks like she could be your sister.

[the knife twisting in your heart hurts less than the betrayal. almost for good measure, james pulls out the instrument and stabs your stomach, as if to stop your child from crawling out and seeking vengeance.]

the smell of hazel fills the room as your fingertips trace james's body, from his toes to his neck. you revel in his unconscious shivering.

[the smell of your winter hazel envelopes you as you lay lifeless in the shallow grave, almost as if it's keeping you company.]

your fingers span james's throat, his pulsing veins feeling warm under your skin.

i wish you would've slept in the guest room.

your fingertips dig in, bloody nails leaving no marks in their trail. james's eyes open with a gasp, his pupils searching for something he won't see.

and i'm going to make you wish too.

[stardancerluv]

Breathless From Afar

Kinktober - 6th Post - Alex Law - Phone Sex

Summary: First time reader and Alex are a part. You miss him.

Warning: phone sex, mutual masturbation, teasing

Note: This is the Alex, Reader dynamic from Being a Good Friend.

Alex was away on assignment. This was the first time you were apart as a couple. You missed him and even how he could sometimes act like an asshole. Though he was mellowing, you definitely brought out his sweeter side. Though, sometimes he could still be mean to anyone who wasn’t you, Juliet or David or now even Rose.

It was day three of him on his week away. The story was awesome, juicy as he said. He was able to really sink his teeth into it. His editor was going to love it. You were sure you would too.

But right now, you were tossing and turning. You missed be cuddled up to him, even if sometimes it was his back. He tended to be restless in his sleep occasionally if he wasn’t stealing a blanket or two.

You grabbed your phone and eyed the phone. You blinked and realized it was three in the morning. You sighed heavily.

Against your better judgement, you opened your phone and looked at some selfies the two of you too, some he took to surprise you. You reread some old texts between the two of you. That was your big mistake.

Your heart began to speed up when you did. He could be such a naughty thing. Biting your bottom like you, decided to call. He may even be up working on his story.

You heard some shuffling. “Baby, are you ok?” You could practically see his auburn hair messy from his sleep and as he rubbed an eye in order try and wake up.

“I am. I was hoping you’d be awake working on your story.”

You heard him sigh, probably rolling onto his back. “I was,” There was a pause probably looking at the clock. “Maybe a hour ago, maybe a little more.”

“Oh damn. Sorry.”

“Its ok. I love hearing from my girl.”

You beamed and flushed, how he managed to do both was his secret weapon against you.

“She missed you lots.”

“Even though you don’t have to steal any blanket’s back?” His voice becoming clearer as he chuckled.

“Yes.” You swallowed. “I miss feeling you beside me. It’s just not the same.”

“Oh do you.” His voice now dipped into that playful tone that only he could do. You were done for before anything else even needed to be said between the two of you.

“Yes, damn you. You have me addicted.”

A part of you felt bad, you shouldn’t done this. You remembered how one day, when you were both talking late into the night and sharing your deepest and darkest secrets he had confessed you, that when he had gone through a horribly dry spell and was well tired of trying to meet someone decent and had long since grown tired of one night stands, he had grown very fond of calling sex hot lines. The writer in him was able imagine a lot.

Though his wallet and hand grew tired of it, he kept it up since the part that was well lonely needed it. Eventually, the costs had become too much and he had stoped.

You hoped this wouldn’t rekindle some compulsion.

“Baby? Baby did you only call to tease and fall asleep.” He was awake now.

“What oh..no! Just thinking of you.”

“Oh ok.” He snickered. “I had said dramatically, you are just addicted to what’s between my legs not my brain.” He laughed loudly and deeply at his own joke.

But he got you. Now you had visions of him and your want for him pulled you hard in your gut.

“Alex you are horrible.” You said exasperated, you hoped you didn’t sound breathless. He wouldn’t know if you pulled up on his t-shirt you were wearing.

“Tell me, I’m wrong then.” He paused. He was smirking and you knew it. “You’re thinking of me and what I’d do if I was there.”

“Yes, damn you.”

He chuckled, but it stopped almost as soon as it began. “Are you wearing just my t-shirt or my t-shirt and a pair of your panties so that great ass of yours doesn’t get cold?”

You grew even more breathless and now even a little wet. Well damn, just hearing him made you wet. It had been a very long three days.

“How did you know?”

“Because I know I am not there to keep that ass warm. With my hands or my body as I hold you.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me, baby wouldn’t it be nice if I was there.” He gently teased.

“Yes, I miss you.”

“I miss you, too baby.” You heard him move around before he spoke again. “I’d have you cuddled up to me but with your ass against me.”

“Oh?” Your heart thudded faster, harder.

“Yes.” He purred. “I’d reach around and cup you. I’d want to feel how wet I made your panties by just being there.”

“I’d like that.”

“Then do it for me baby. Cup yourself and tell me, am I making you wet?”

“Alex.” You whimpered.

“Do it.”

You gave a strangled sigh. Your pulse felt harder and fast there. The cotton was wet all the way through. “You made very wet.” You admitted.

“As I should.” He snickered, it was a delightfully evil sound. “Slip your hand in baby.”

“But Alex.”

“What? I’d do it if I was there.”

A soft gasp and moan came from you. You had not realized just how sensitive you were.

“How does that feel baby? Can you imagine my fingers just barely touching you? They would be teasing you like I enjoy doing.”

“Yes.” You could barely say even that.

He gave his own strangled sigh. It was electric, you made your own sound in response to it. “Baby, you can tell I just removed my cock from my boxers?”

You made a deep sound and nodded. “Yes.” You breathed.

“I wish these were my fingers I have wrapped around myself.”

“Oh Alex.” You grew wetter.

“I am so hard for you baby. But you know what? I’d just let you feel it pressed up against you. I’d want you to first cum against my fingers as I’d tease and rub at you.”

“Alex please.” You pleaded.

“What are you being my good girl and touching yourself? Are you wishing, wanting my fingers?”

You swallowed hard barely not choking on the air you forced into your lungs. “I am.”

“Then do it. Move your fingers I want to hear you baby.”

“Ok.” Your voice was weak with your need for him.

You were barely able to keep your phone balanced on your shoulder as you gave yourself up to touching yourself. Your eyes closed as you imagined him.

“That’s it. Yes.” You heard him encourage. His own was breathless. “So wet for me baby. Don’t want. Do it faster. I want to slide my cock so badly into you why you are still shuddering from what my fingers have done.”

You arched up from your bed, and moaning louder you came hard. A breath later and you collapsed, and was a panting mess on your bed. The sheets under you a wrinkled mess.

With your other hand that trembled in the after glow brought your phone back to your ear. You could hear his own sounds and you loved it.

“Yes, Alex you’re inside. Mmm, you feel so good.” You couldn’t resist you did reach down, and slid in two fingers. Wasn’t even close to how his two fingers or even his cock would feel but it still felt damn good.

“Yes.” He called out and you heard as he choked on his pleasure. The bed he was on squeaked. You worried distracted at what kind of place the paper put him up at. But just the you heard him, his panting as he tried to regain his breath and voice the idea floated away.

“Baby, oh baby.” He sighed. “I can’t wait to wrap myself around you.” His voice a little calmer.

“Me too.” You rolled over to get comfortable and pulled your blanket back around you.

“I’m coming home tomorrow. So you had better watch out. Wear one of your cute little skirts. I may not want to wait till we are home.”

You choked then.

And he chuckled. “Yes, that’s right baby. I finished early, I will be home tomorrow after noon.”

Was it bad, you got excited all over again. “I can’t wait.” Your voice you hoped didn’t portray your excitement, you knew distantly you both needed sleep now even more so.

“Now baby, pull those wonderful fingers back. I’d be licking them if I were there. You need your sleep.���

“But Alex.” You pouted.

“You know I’m right baby. And it will make you enjoy my cock all the more.” He chuckled.

“You are killing me Alex Law.” You said desperately.

“You love it. Now go to sleep.”

“Ok. Good night.”

“Good night, baby.”

And with a smile on your face, you ended the call and fell asleep not long after.

@mac-n-cheesie @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @brookisbi @johallzy @chogisss @calcifor @i-love-scott-mccall @stardust-and-starlight @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @sithonis @xbrex @hollow-r-us @unfilteredmoonchild @thebeckyjolene @dogmatic255

[littleoddwriter]

helloooo i LOVE your work, would you be able to do an alex law x gn!reader where his s/o comforts him when he's sick and/or after one of the (many) injuries he sustains? thank you!

Healing | Alex Law x GenderNeutral!Reader

Hello there! Thank you SO very much!!! <3 <3 <3 Ah, thanks for the request, I went for the injury one; I hope you like what I've done with this. :')

summary; While Alex recovers from his injuries, you help him get better and comfort him during his worse moments.

notes; Gender Neutral!Reader; Injuries; Background Murder; Trauma; Nightmare; Panic Attack; Hurt/Comfort; Short(-ish) Fic.

It's been about ten weeks since Alex has been through hell. He could still barely walk properly, and not for long either, as his shins would always hurt. But his shoulder was the worst. Turns out, having a knife stabbed into your shoulder and through it took a long time to recover from, and it certainly hurt like a bitch every time he so much as thought about lifting a finger.

He was lucky that he wasn't alone, though. After David died and Juliet left, and Alex kept the flat to himself, you immediately moved in with him to take care of him through all of this (and also because you had planned to move in anyway).

You made sure his still tender shoulder stayed mostly still, as he wasn't allowed to move it around too much. You helped him with basic tasks he couldn't do because of it; especially bathing. And you comforted him when things got really bad for him and he had a panic attack; although he would deny having had one, once it was over.

______

He'd been taking a nap. The pain medication made him incredibly sleepy, and so he slept more frequently throughout the entire day, as well as he did at night.

During said nap, though, he had a nightmare about what had happened. His therapist, which he visited very reluctantly, told him that it was normal. His mind was trying to process those memories, and so his subconscious turned them into nasty dreams that made him relive that trauma every time he closed his eyes.

"Alex! Baby, it's okay," he could faintly make out your voice. But he was still seeing David on top of him, driving that knife through his shoulder. And Juliet, who made it even worse, after she had killed David.

He cried out in pain.

"Alex, wake up! Come on, please, Alex," he kept hearing your voice ever so softly in the background of what was happening right in front of him.

And then he jolted awake.

Alex's eyes ripped open and he sat up all too quickly, as he was gasping for air.

There were hands around him and especially on his injured shoulder. He flinched.

"No," he whimpered, curling in on himself, trying to get away and to get his breathing under control, but he was still panting, as though he'd just run a marathon. His chest felt so tight.

"Alex, it's me," you called gently, "You're safe. Do you hear me?"

"Y/N?" he whispered, chancing a look at you.

A concerned expression had taken over your entire face, reflecting in your eyes.

Cautiously, he raised his head and looked around.

You were right.

He was safe.

Almost frantically, Alex found your hand and held onto it tightly. He felt like you would suddenly vanish, like none of this was real, and so grabbing your hand like this made it more of a reality. It calmed him down significantly to know you were actually there.

"Is it okay if I hold you?" you asked softly, squeezing his hand back.

He could only nod.

You shifted around a little, not letting go of his hand until you had to, and wrapped your arms around him, mindful of his shoulder, as you put them around his waist, pulling him against you.

With a shaky breath, Alex buried his face in your neck.

You stayed in that embrace, sitting on your shared bed, for a while. Neither of you would have been able to tell for how long, but that didn't matter anyway. What was important was that Alex felt better, calmer, safe.

"Thank you," he murmured against your neck, making you shiver slightly with how it tickled.

"Anytime, Alex. I've got you," you told him gently, "And before you act like this was nothing - Healing is a process. Sometimes a long one. Those nightmares and your panic attacks are part of it. And that's okay. You're not alone. And I'll do everything in my power to support and help you through it."

Nodding, Alex leaned back and smiled at you. It was a small one, but genuine. You haven't seen him smile like that in a while.

Then, you both leaned in and kissed each other ever so gently. It was as though you sealed what you've just said to him with that kiss, letting it sink in and become a truth he still had to learn.

[crescentbunny]

Priority Citadel - Aftermath

WELP, you asked @a-cosmic-elf - Enjoy! Happy N7 Day Ya’ll!

There was nothing but static on his com line… her chest and stomach constricted as her eyes darted around the civilians. There was no hint of his familiar silver and blue plates. 

“GARRUS!” she called.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit - there was absolutely no way a bunch of Cerberus dogs could have gotten the drop on him when they were separated… right?

He wouldn’t let that happen, of course not.

Shepard dashed down the dock a ways and put her hand up to her mouth. “Garrus!”

He wouldn’t… unless he was outnumbered. Nah, he’d been in that situation before.

Panic slithered through her belly as her gaze dropped to the floor, searching the scattered victims laying in rainbow pools of intermixed blood. Every spot of azure made her hold her breath. She’d long since left Javik behind.

Dammit. 

“Garrrruuus!” Her voice cracked as she yelled. 

People were turning to look at her as she weaved through them, desperately snapping her head back and forth, searching. Still no familiar slashes of cobalt. There was a turian in familiar armor collapsed near one of the columns… in a pool of blood. She could feel a black line of fluid begin it’s trail down her lip and she wiped furiously at it before bending to roll the soldier over. 

Shepard heaved a relieved exhale. Not him. She propelled herself back to standing, then running.

Were the docks always this long? She clutched at a stitch in her side as she sprinted through the throngs of refugees. “Garrus!” 

Nothing, nothing, every time she turned her head. There! A turian with blue marks. She beelined for him, but as she moved closer there was no way - all wrong. Different mandibles, skin too light, fringe too short, back not wide enough.

“Fuck,” she muttered, and took off again, gaze roaming bodies and people, the crowds murmurs unable to reach her ears. Every step made the Leviathan twist and rumble as it reveled in her mounting fear and panic. The hum of it was deafening - she wiped angrily at her nose again. 

“Garrus!” The bellow was hoarse. Every eye on the dock was pointed at her. The media, these people - they could think whatever the fuck they wanted - about her, about him.

She was in over her head. You can’t do this without him. The thought rattled loudly in the hollowness inside her and The Leviathan writhed at the admission. It could take her and use her as it willed if Garrus was laying anywhere— no. No, she couldn’t go down that path yet. Not yet. She took a knee next to another dead turian with silver plates, and turned him over. A delicate set of hoops pierced through his mandibles tinkled as she moved him. Shit, this one was young - the crest wasn’t fused yet. Fucking Cerberus. Fucking Udina.

Shepard dragged herself to her feet once more and took off. She rounded another column and noticed there was a large crowd of turian soldiers standing on her right far down the dock from her. She could just make out their heads bobbing. Hope fluttered weakly in her abdomen.

“Garrus!” she screamed. 

A shrill noise answered from the pack of bodies, and sure enough, he stepped out where she could see him.

She’d know that outline anywhere in the galaxy. 

“Shepard!” he called back. 

The relief that flooded her buckled her knees and sent her crashing into the ground face first. In the back of her mind she knew that’d be on the news later but her elation was too high to care. She leapt back up and burned a trail as fast as her aching muscles could take her. The crowds of beings parted to let her pass.

Garrus skidded to a stop as she approached - he had the best slack-mandibled look on his face as she threw herself at him. Shepard locked her arms around his neck and buried her face in his hide, breathing in the burnt ozone and spent heatsink smell of him, the mineral scent of his sweat. Thank god and whatever spirits he was always talking about - he was alive. 

Garrus nosed into her shoulder, humming soothingly as he clutched her to his chest.  

“Fuck...fuck, shit,” she murmured into his neck. “Your coms busted...I couldn’t find you...I thought…”

He chuckled, the noise vibrating through his keel. “If you say you thought I was dead, I’m going to be offended.”

This stupid, stupid bastard. She was fucked. Absolutely fuckered. It was him. It was always him, had always been him. 

Would always be him.

Even after all the years she’d told herself she couldn’t. Wouldn’t. 

“Just shut up, Vakarian.” Curse her shaky voice.

His flippant tone shifted immediately. “I’m sorry, Shepard. I was coming to find you before they crowded me… the downside to being recognizable I suppose,” he sighed quietly into her hair and her insides clenched painfully. 

Dammit.

The muscles in his neck flexed and she instinctively burrowed further into his collar. ”Don’t move. I don’t need anyone to see my face right now.”

__________________________________________________

Joker already had his chair swiveled towards the hatch the second the decon door slid back. “Oh my god, here she is - Shepard did you see the news you ar—” 

“Stuff it Joker, I don’t want to hear it.” She snapped and whirled past him to stomp down the neck of the CIC with Javik right behind her.

Garrus sighed. “Joker, do you have to—”

“Oh, absolutely.” The pilot propped his fingers on his chest, mockingly indigent. “This is my time honored right! Do you know how much shit she gave me when I fell for the cafeteria girl back in basic?” 

Garrus slid a palm over his fringe. 

“A metric fuckton! So I’ll milk every second of that gooey display for all it’s worth! Did you know the news already has you both on replay right now?”

The sniper sighed. “I don’t know anyone else in the galaxy stupid enough to mess with her you know - even Jack shut up when she told her to knock it off.”

“You didn’t hear Wrex’s call with her - he literally just called to laugh until she hung up on him.”

“Do you always listen to her personal calls?”

“Only when I think they’ll be funny, I promise.”

Garrus rolled his eyes. “She might not beat your brittle ass - but you do realize when you rile her up it’s me and Vega who get the brunt of her frustration right?”

“I know, isn’t it great?” Joker leaned back with his arms propped under his head. When Garrus narrowed his eyes at him he sat back up and held out a placating hand. “Look that’s got to be doing you some favors at least.”

The suggestive lilt of his smirk was not lost on Garrus. Bait. Don’t answer. “If you want to see what a real turian can do Joker - all you’ve got to do is ask.”

The pilot scrunched his nose. “I think I’m good on my blue dick quotas, but Shep’s might be a little light - ask her.”

Garrus turned on a chuckle to move down the neck of the ship. 

“Hey Garrus?” Joker called.

He turned back to face the pilot.

“Good for you man.” The hesitant little smile he flashed was nearly endearing.

“Thanks, Joker.”

[mlmxreader]

A Little Game | Alex Law

request; "hello may i possibly trouble you for some spin the bottle w alex law 🥺" // anon

summary; Alex spends more and more time at your flat, which prompts your roommate to come up with an idea.

notes; male!reader, drinking

“He’s in my fucking bedroom eating ice cream,” you sighed, running a hand through your hair as you looked at your roommate with a frown; Alex, your best friend, had been hanging around an awful lot lately, ever since something had gone on with his old flatmates that he refused to talk about, the only thing he explained was that he had somehow been stabbed in the shoulder, and while you didn’t mind at first, you worried for him.

“So?” Ben shrugged, sitting back on the old and battered sofa, a cup of tea in front of him on the coffee table that was slowly going cold as the night went on. “You do that to me all the time.”

You scowled, shaking your head and chewing at your lip. “This is... this is different. Alex isn’t - he’s a party animal, Ben, this is... it’s not normal behaviour for him.”

Slapping his thighs, Ben stood up and raised a brow at you, a single curl of dirty blonde hair falling onto his forehead. “Alright. So we’ll get Meghan and Ames and Emma over and we’ll all do something fun - at least then it wouldn’t just be us three again.”

You nodded, sighing heavily as you turned on your heel, thankful that the three friends only lived a couple of doors down in the block of flats, you went back to your bedroom; Alex had finished the ice cream, leaving the empty plastic tub and the steel spoon on the table, and when he looked up at you, your heart broke.

“So, uh,” you cleared your throat, uneasily taking a seat beside him at the edge of the bed. “Ben’s gonna invite a few mates over and we’re gonna have ourselves a small party... if you wanna join.”

Alex let out a murmur of something not even half coherent as he combed his hand through his thick hair. “I don’t have anything decent to wear.”

You offered a reassuring smile, shaking your head. “I got some joggers and a hoodie you can borrow... bit more scabby than you’re used to, but it’s clean, and it’ll do.”

Agreeing, Alex watched as you got the promised clothes from your wardrobe, your fingers ghosting his and making his breath hitch as he gently took them from you; your hands stayed statue still for a moment as you swallowed thickly and desperately tried to seek any further contact. Alex smiled, weak but true. “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you said softly, jumping back and clearing your throat when the door opened, loud greeting echoed through the flat as you rubbed the back of your neck. “I best go see our guests... you sure you wanna come out, or would you prefer a quiet night? Because I can-”

“It’ll do me good,” he promised quietly. “Who knows? I might even get lucky.”

----

‘Unchained Melody’ by Sam Cooke was playing loud and proud over the speakers as you sat on Alex’s lap, a couple of cans of lager in, laughing as Ben recalled some memory or another from a time that had gone so slowly and had since long past; Meghan and Ames and Emma were all sat crowded on the floor in a huddle, switching between the main conversation and whatever it was that they had going on in their little circle, and for some reason they kept looking at you and Alex before glancing at an empty Jack Daniel's bottle that sat on the top of the fridge.

But eventually, Meghan stood up, a glint of something mischievous in her eyes as she smiled and cleared her throat. “Let’s play a game!”

Parking up with interest, you and Alex gave her your undivided attention, he leaned forward in his seat slightly, a hand slapped over your thigh to make sure that you didn’t tumble over and onto the floor.

“What did you have in mind?” Ben asked curiously, he grabbed his half empty can and easily, quickly, knocked it back.

“Spin the bottle,” she replied, going to fetch the bottle from the top of the fridge when everyone agreed.

It only seemed like seconds had passed when everyone huddled around in a circle with the bottle in the middle; you were directly opposite Alex, who was sat beside Meghan, who was opposite Ben, while Ames and Emma sat opposite to one another. It was a childish game, if you were honest, it was the type of game that teenagers played at house parties, childish in every way, but it was fun at the end of the day.

“I’ll go first,” Ben chuckled, spinning the bottle and watching the black metal lid with what seemed like hope.

You didn’t pay much attention to it, meeting Alex’s gaze as you dared to crack a smile; you secretly hoped that when it came to his turn, the bottle would land on you or vice versa. That didn’t stop you from being a bit shocked at how cold the glass was when you placed your hand on it, silently letting out a small hope that it would land on Alex before you spinned the bottle.

It went past Meghan. Then Emma. Then Ben. Then yourself. Then Ames. Then it stopped. Plainly pointing at Alex, who grinned before gently moving the bottle aside and meeting you in the middle of the circle.

“Just don’t pull the hair,” he muttered with a smirk and a wink.

It made you scoff as you rolled your eyes. “Just kiss me.”

“Gladly.”

With that one whisper, Alex moved in, one hand on your shoulder, the other at the back of your neck as he pulled you in close and met you halfway as you gripped his hips and smiled into the kiss - everything else in the world seemed to fade away, just a star speckled galaxy with you and Alex right in the middle and nothing or anyone else; you weren’t quite sure how to describe it, but there was something about the way that Alex moved his lips with yours that was utterly heavenly, like a country song playing on the radio in the middle of the night, the soft warmth of a campfire. You pulled him into your lap, letting him straddle you as you laughed softly.

“Fuck, can you two get a room?” Ames laughed, shaking her head, she reached for the bottle. “Some of us haven’t had our turn, yet, lads.”

Untangling yourselves, you and Alex giggled as you stood up, sharing a glance before excusing yourselves to your bedroom; the door didn’t need to be shut just yet, so you left it open as you allowed Alex to straddle your waist at the edge of the bed, your hands on his hips, his hands on your chest as he smiled.

“Sunshine, do you...” he shrugged, licking his lips. “Fuck me, I really like you, (y/n), you’re the most handsome, smart, amazing man I’ve met, and I-”

You planeted a sweet kiss to his lips to shut him up, pulling away with a smile. “If you’re asking me to be your boyfriend, I have two conditions.”

“Do tell.”

“No more ice cream in bed,” you grinned. “And if you go out partying, you come back here so I can look after you.”

“Fucking deal!” Alex beamed, nodding eagerly; his party animal days were put on hold, of course, but the thought of being able to be with you and to have you as his boyfriend and be your boyfriend in return was enough to make him relax and to get part of his old spark back. Only a small bit, but something always came from nothing.

You didn’t mind not bringing up his old flatmates, as although you were worried for him, you knew that he would tell you when he wanted to, and you weren’t about to push that, either; what really mattered was that he was smiling again, he was laughing once more, and while it would soon fade by the morning, you were just glad that Alex had had a night of fun... although you did hope that he had meant what he had said.