#he was head over heels down for shepard from the start

[sol-consort]

Figured out how to mod the game just so I can get the captain outfit and it's so worth it.

[cherrycocaineee]

34. Dallas Winston - Please Don’t Be In Love With Someone Else

* Warning: smut! *

To everyone’s surprise, Tim Shepard was incredible with children especially when they were hysterically crying after hurting themselves. If it hadn’t been for your little brother, who at the ripe age of three enjoyed jumping off of high surfaces when he was alone for no more than a second, then no one would have seen this softer side of Tim. While everyone else was teasing the man as he placed a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle bandage on the child’s skinned knee while whispering he’d be alright, you couldn’t help the way your heart throbbed at the scene. And that’s when it started, down at the very bottom of your beating organ the tiniest, insignificant feeling of a crush was starting to blossom. It was a silly feeling, nothing that mattered at all because there were so many things about Tim Shepard you couldn’t stand. In fact, it was so funny to you, you decided to mention it to everyone, and like you’d hoped they would, they laughed about it. Even Tim Shepard, who knew there was nothing to the little crush you harbored.

“Well at least she gave you a way to get chicks!” Sodapop laughed.

And it was all fun and games amongst everyone. Tim even walked over to you, nudging your arm lightly.

“I can take you on a date,” he snickered, “get it out of your system.”

That caused another wave of rowdy laughter throughout the house. Everyone was having such a good time poking fun at your little crush towards Tim that no one, not even you, noticed the brooding Dallas Winston huffing in the corner with a cigarette between his lips. He didn’t find your crush on Tim Shephard all that amusing, probably because he was head over heels in love with you. But no one knew, not even Johnny, who Dally was incredibly close to. You weren’t like the other broads he’d ever met, Soc or Greaser; there was something warm about the way you laughed, something gentle and caring by the way you made sure everyone ate, you were friendly even when people didn’t deserve it, and no matter how many times you cried yourself into a mess, you put other people’s emotions before your own. He found you enduring, beautiful, selfless, and absolutely amazing but he’d never admit it to anyone. Which was why he was in this situation now; having to listen to all of his friends and you talk about your crush on Tim Shepard.

Honestly, he didn’t see the appeal. So damn what if Tim was great with kids, he could do that too. At least that’s what he kept telling himself. However, as the week went by, he found himself being scolded by parents of children he made cry. It wasn’t his fault they found him scary looking or that he wasn’t nice and soothing like typical people were when it came to children. He didn’t even like kids; they cried too much, there was always drool dripping from their mouths or snot bubbling at their nose, they asked for too much, and they were annoying.

A frustrated sigh left Dally’s lips as he plopped down on the Curtis’s couch. It was a Saturday, so everyone, with the exception of you, were sitting around Darry’s house enjoying their weekend and watching terrible tv. All of them turned their attention to their pouting friend.

“What’s the matter with you?” Darry questioned.

“Nothin’,” Dally huffed, not wanting to get into his failed attempt to get along with children for your sake.

“I saw you earlier,” Ponyboy stated while spooning some eggs into his mouth, “you made some kid cry and got yelled at by their mom.”

Dally scoffed, glaring angrily at Ponyboy for even mentioning his failure.

“Why’d you make a kid cry?” Two-Bit snickered.

“It’s not like I did it on purpose!” Dally snapped, “I was trying to impress someone,”

It all came out before Dally could even stop himself. Now they were all curiously sitting on the edge of their seats eyeing him suspiciously.

“We didn’t know you were into someone,” Steve stated, “who’s the lucky gal?”

“You aren’t that stupid, are ya?” Two-Bit laughed, “I remember a certain someone admitting they had a crush on Tim Shepard simply because he was great with kids.”

And while the scowl on Dally’s face seemed to deepen, the gears in everyone’s heads started to turn and click at the realization that Dallas Winston was desperately in love with you. So desperate that he was willing to be around sticky, stinky kids just to make you feel something, even a little bit, for him. The few times he tried were just practice runs, he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of you when he decided to do it for real.

“If you like her,” Johnny said, his voice almost too quiet to hear over the rumbling sound of old tv, “just tell her how you feel.”

“Yeah,” Darry stated, “she’s not actually in love with Shepard. She even said so.”

“Maybe he wasn’t listenin’,” Sodapop giggled.

He was listening, he just didn’t want you to love anyone else, no matter how much it was. He swore the next time he saw Tim Shephard he was going to kick his ass but that was no more than a silent threat considering it wasn’t his fault you felt the way you did. All he knew was he didn’t want them talking about it anymore, at any second, you would walk through that door and how unsettling would it be for you to find out Dally’s feelings while his friends are trying to give him advice. Dally always saw himself as prideful, so that would be an awful situation.

As if right on cue, you came trudging through the door in your diner outfit letting your bag drop to the floor beside the front door. Your face was contorted into exhaustion and a few of your hair were misplaced but you didn’t bother with it. Everyone stopped talking about Dally’s crush on you immediately.

“Hey guys,” you greeted, voice hoarse from all the orders you had to call out and customers you had to speak to, “How’s it going?”

“Great,” Two-Bit said, smiling brightly with no indication that they were discussing Dally’s love life, “How was work?”

“I almost quit today. I swore to myself if one more person smacked my ass, I was leaving,” you stated, rolling your eyes in the process as you plopped down beside Dally, “but Tim made it all better when he brought me some coffee during my break.”

There were two things to be mad at according to Dally: some prick smacked you on the ass without your consent and Tim made you feel better today instead of him. This was getting worse and worse.

Dally gripped the side of the couch, and he wished he had a pack of cigarettes on him because it would keep him from aggressively chewing on the inside of his cheek. While the boys seemed to notice, you didn’t and Dally was starting to think that you were irritably clueless of the situation in the room. And he couldn’t take it anymore, so he pushed himself off the couch and stormed out the house, slamming the screen door shut behind him. Your eyes widened at Dally’s sudden action. You had noticed that he had started acting weird all week; barely looking you in the eyes, not really saying anything to you, leaving when you showed up. It was like Dally wanted nothing to do with you anymore, which was painful really because you and Dally were close. Not as close as he was to Johnny but close enough.

“What’s wrong with him?” You questioned, turning to the boys who had grown eerily quiet.

“Well…” Steve started but was cut off by Ponyboy.

“He’s just havin’ a hard time tellin’ some girl he like her,” he stated.

“That’s why he’s been so upset this whole week? Because of a girl? Why doesn’t he ask her out or something? I’ve never seen him this messed up about one girl before.”

“These are all new emotions for Dally,” Darry stated, the big brother voice coming out, “we’ll just all need to be supportive however we can.”

And that left a question rumbling through your tired head: How were you supposed to be supportive and help if Dally wouldn’t even look at you?

You spent a little more time with your friends before you went to pick up your little brother, running a little later than you’d have liked. When you did arrive at your brother’s daycare to pick him up, Dally was standing beside the fence smoking a cigarette, looking much calmer than he previously was. Without hesitation, you approached him.

“Dally,” you called, voice sweet and welcoming as it was with any of your friends, “what are you doing here?”

“Figured you’d be late,” he hummed, throwing the butt of the cigarette to the ground, “so I came up here to watch your brother until you got here.”

A large grin spreaded against your lips, the sparkle in your eyes blinding in the sunlight that was starting to set. You didn’t even need to say thank you, though you said it anyway, because Dally could see it in your eyes that you were grateful that he was looking out for your brother when you made small mistakes like being late. You ran over to the teacher, the ends of your diner skirt bouncing with each movement you made, and apologized for your tardiness before collecting your brother.

“It was no trouble at all,” she chirped, “he’s a perfect child. Have you considered adopting him yet?”

It was a topic that was frequently discussed during pickups. With both y’alls parents being deceased, that left you as the sole provider for your brother even if you were barely an adult, but you’d rather die first before letting anyone other than yourself get custody of him.

“I have,” you admitted, “that’s why I’m working so much now. I need the money to start.”

“Well we’ll help however we can,” she said, then patted your shoulder and let you be on your way.

You carried your brother back over to Dally who was still waiting for you at the fence, a new cigarette sitting between his lips. He offered to walk the two of y’all home since the sun was starting to go down and it was dangerous for the two of you to be walking home alone. And by the time the three of y’all made it to your house, your brother was crying for something to eat. You invited Dally inside and he took up your offer, watching as you began to make your brother something to eat. His menu consisted of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich cut into triangles, they were his favorite shape and he wouldn’t eat it any other way, some carrot stick with a bit of ranch, not too much because ranch wasn’t too good for you, and pieces of strawberries cut into pieces so he wouldn’t eat the strawberry butts because he would if given the chance.

As you made your brother’s food, Dally sat across from you watching every move you made. He didn’t like kids, but he loved watching you take care of your brother. You seemed so relaxed and in the zone, that nothing else could take your focus away from taking care of the only part of your family you had left.

When you were finished making his dinner, you let him watch reruns of Scooby Doo as he ate. That left you alone with Dally until it was bedtime. Luckily you had tomorrow off so you didn’t have to worry about bath time tonight because honestly, your legs were barely staying up as it was.

“Are you hungry?” You asked Dally, quirking your head to the side.

“Nah,” he muttered, “I ate a little bit ago.”

You nodded your head.

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t eat,” he continued, his eyes looking up to meet yours, and you could see something desperate in them that was hard to pinpoint.

“I’m not hungry,” you said, “Just tired.”

“I can leave?”

“It’s okay for now. I still have to get him ready for bed and everything.”

The muscles in his shoulders seemed to relax as he settled back into his seat comfortably. You wanted to bring up what the guys had told you earlier, about Dally being in love with someone, but you weren’t sure how. It was odd to know that there was a girl out there making Dally feel this way, he was known for casually hooking up and dumping girls left and right. The idea amused you, so you went for it.

“So the guys said something about you being head over heels for some girl,” you started off, Dally’s eyes flickering up to you, “I was wondering if you wanted to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he muttered, averting his eyes.

You weren’t even sure if you should continue pressing the matter, you didn’t want to make him angry. You could handle his outburst but your brother would get scared and it wasn’t something you wanted to deal with tonight. So instead, you changed the conversation.

“Well I also wanted to let you know,” you changed the topic, “we’re all going to the park on Saturday. I’ll be making lunch for everyone if you wanna join. Everyone will be there, even Tim.”

A scowl appeared on Dally’s face as he scoffed, rolling his eyes as he looked away.

“I’m so damn tired of hearin’ that guys name,” he grumbled, keeping his voice down.

“He’s your friend,” you giggled, “What did he do to you?”

“He didn’t do anythin’ to me. I’m just tired of everyone kissin’ the ground he walks on.”

And now you were really confused because everyone was merely treating Tim Shephard like any ordinary friend.

“No one’s kissing the ground he walks on, Dally,” you argued, “he’s our friend. He’s welcome to join in on our activity if he wants to like anyone else we know. Why are you so mad at him?”

“Why are you defendin’ him?” Dally snapped, “You sleep with him? We all heard how you’re in love with him! How was he?”

By this time, your brother was looking at the two of you, inching himself behind the wall further but keeping an eye on y’all. But besides that, there were fresh tears in your eyes from the accusation being thrown at you. You couldn’t cry though, not in front of your little brother and sure as hell not in front of Dallas Winston. Instead, you gripped your hands into a fist at your side and glared at him, feeling a single tear fall from your face. For the first time ever, there was remorse and regret splashed on Dally’s face.

“Get the hell out of my house, Winston!” You snapped, “Now!”

You stormed past him and pulled the front door open; he came over to you.

“Wait,” he said, “let’s talk about this.”

“No.”

You grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and pushed him out of your house before slamming the door shut. You could hear the sound of his footsteps walking down the steps. Your brother, fortunately, wasn't crying, but was still scared. Smiling, shoving your tears away, you approached him and picked him up, carrying him to his bedroom to put him to bed. He kept asking you if you were okay and you promised him that you were, even though you weren’t. After reading him a bedtime story, he was knocked out, so you retired to your room and bawled your eyes out.

A week went by and you barely left the house. Instead of dropping your brother off at daycare, you took him to the diner with you. You didn’t even go to the park with everyone like you had originally planned, and when they knocked on your door that day, you ignored them because you felt ashamed. The only one you did speak to because they had seen you walking home was Darry. He was nice enough to give you and your brother a ride home. While your brother slept, Darry asked if everything was okay and because you saw him as the parental figure you desperately missed, you told him about the argument you and Dally had at your place. Rightfully so, he was pissed off at Dally.

And when Darry saw Dally again, he let him have it.

“Are you outta your mind?!” He snapped, “If you can’t get a hold of your damn emotions, fine! But you aren’t goin’ to take it out of her. She’s too damn kind and too damn carin’.”

“I didn’t mean for it to come out,” Dally argued, “but by the time I realized what I said, it was too late, she didn’t want to talk.”

“I don’t blame her. But you’re gonna make it right. You hear me, or you won’t be welcome back to my home until you sort yourself out.”

Everyone knew that Darry was serious because he never threatened to keep anyone from his house, so Dally refused to say anything that would cause a bigger hole in his relationship with Darry or anybody.

That night, Dally went to your house, hoping that you were still awake and that you would be willing to talk to him. He knocked three times on your front door before you opened up. Seeing your face for the first time in a week almost knocked the wind out of him. Even with tears, fresh and dry, streaking your tired face, you were beautiful. He wanted more than anything to grab you and kiss you, make everything alright.

“What are you doing here?” You questioned, voice no longer filled with joy but with sadness.

“Can we talk please?” He asked, the word “please” rolling off his tongue foreignly.

You hesitated, not wanting to let him in at all, especially not while your brother was asleep. But you knew he wouldn’t stop, coming back everyday to talk to you, hell, he’d even show up at your job. You couldn’t have that. So you nodded and pulled the door open, gesturing for him to come inside. Dally walked through your door and you shut it again, locking it so that no one could get in.

“What do you want to talk about?” You muttered, your eyes never meeting him.

“About that night a week ago,” he replied, “I want to apologize for what I said and my actions.”

“Because you’re actually sorry or because Darry made you come over here?”

The answer was both but it didn’t seem right to tell you that. But it didn’t seem right to lie either.

“Both,” Dally admitted, “but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m still sorry, even if Darry told me to come over. I’ve only been keepin’ my distance because I knew you didn’t want to see me.”

“And I still don’t,” you snapped out, “so you tell me why I shouldn’t kick you out.”

“Because we’re friends and because I’m sorry.”

“No. That’s not good enough. Friends don’t say the shit you said to each other. So if you want me to believe your half ass apology, I’m gonna need more. For example, what the hell has been your problem lately?”

Another thing that Dally loved about you was that you could be incredibly feisty when you wanted.

You stood there with your arms crossed over your chest waiting for an answer. Dally sighed, running his hands through his hair, frustration clear.

“Fine,” he huffed, “you wanna know? I had to listen to all of you joke about your crush with Shepard while I’m sittin’ over here dyin’ to tell you that I love you. Dyin’ to tell you how much you mean to me and how I want nothin’ more than to hold you when you cry. I can’t get your laugh out of my head, I can’t sleep at night because you wander my dreams, and hell, I pray that the next time I see you, I’ll get to see your smile or hear your voice.”

Your eyes widened at his confession. You didn’t think that this girl he had been in love with could have been you. You never thought of yourself as special like that to anyone, that and your life was filled with work, taking care of your brother, and adopting him. Yeah you spent time with your friends but you never thought you’d be someone they loved.

“Y-you love me?” You questioned, your voice not louder than a mouse.

“Of course I love you,” he admitted again, “that’s why I’ve been so upset lately. And it’s no excuse for the things I said to you the other night. I shouldn’t have been so…”

“No, you shouldn’t have. But I forgive you, Dally.”

A smile appeared on his face and he hugged you. Your head was buried into his chest and you couldn’t help smiling at the familiar smell of cigarettes and cheap cologne.

“And just so you know,” you continued, “a crush is a crush, Dally. Nothing more. Real love is more than some silly feeling of fascination.”

You looked up at him, your eyes twinkling up at his bright, brown eyes. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before he dipped his head down and kissed you. The taste of cigarette smoke touched your taste buds when he slipped his tongue into your mouth. It was familiar and welcoming. You ran your fingers up his chest and then wrapped around his neck. He gripped your waist tight, holding you in place as the kiss heated up. Pretty soon, he was shrugging his leather jacket off of his shoulder before pushing you backwards towards your bedroom which luckily the door was open. Inside your room, Dally grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head revealing your flesh. Your breasts were almost popping out of your bra and Dally was practically drooling at the sight of it. He pushed you onto the bed gently, the covers crinkling underneath your weight. You watched as he removed his own shirt, undid his belt, before climbing back on top of you. His lips attached themselves to your neck instead of your lips. His tongue swirled around the subtle flesh of your neck causing a gentle moan to leave your lips.

“Dally,” you whimpered, your eyes rolling back.

“Shh,” he whispered, grinning against you, “you’ll wake your brother up. We don’t want that.”

He pushed himself between your thighs and caused a small amount of friction against your clothed cunt. It felt like he was doing all this on purpose, to tease you, knowing that you couldn’t be loud. You bite your bottom lip hard causing a small tear in the skin. The metallic taste of blood coating her tongue. Dally unbuttoned your jeans and pulled them off of your body, revealing the pretty panties you had decided to wear. Not on purpose, you were just behind on laundry and these were what you had. That didn’t stop him from grinning at the sight of them cupping the flesh of your lower half. He bent his head down and kissed the inside of your thigh, a moan leaving his throat at the scent alone.

“Dally, please,” you muttered, cheeks burning as you felt yourself grow wetter behind the fabric of your panties.

“Needy little thing,” he said, standing back up and removing his own pants and underwear.

There was no time to be wasted, both of you were craving each other so much that y’all’s skin was burning hot to the touch. Dally pressed another kiss to your lips, his fingers barely gripping your chin as he removed your panties with one hand. He threw the set to the side and moved on to your bra, unclipping it expertly. He swore he never saw anything more beautiful than you laid out before him. He laid you down, admiring every inch of you.

“So pretty,” he hummed, his head tilting as he watched you.

Your cute, little cunt was glistening with wetness and it only made him harder. He licked the drool off of his lips. He bent your legs as he positioned himself between you. Almost immediately your legs wrapped around Dally’s muscular torso; he positioned himself against your hole and rubbed his tip against your folds.The two of you moaned in each other's mouths, your eyes squeezing shut as Dally pushed into you. He was larger than you expected, wide too. With each inch of him going inside of you, your spongy walls could feel every vein that decorated him. There was a mix of pleasure and pain and you couldn’t help but bite down on his shoulder. He hissed at the erupting pain from your bite.

When he was finally inside you completely, he stopped, letting you adjust to him. You nodded your head, giving him permission and he moved. The two of you looked into each other’s eyes, lips inches apart as he picked up his pace. The bed creaked from the sudden movement and the headboard tapped rhythmically against the wall, luckily, not loud enough to wake your brother. Your head tilted back, giving Dally full access to your neck. He latches his lips against your flesh and leaves sloppy, open mouth kisses there; deep growls left rumbled through his throat sending a vibration up your neck. It tickled, and you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling at the sensation. Dally moved one hand to your thigh and squeezed the soft flesh.

“Fuck,” he hissed, “you feel better than I ever imagined, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you moaned, “faster, Dally.”

“Whatever my sweetheart wants.”

His pace quickened, and alongside that his thrust became harder. You could feel the tip of his cock poking your cervix. He took his hand off your thigh and placed it down on your throat, tightening his grip only enough to make you feel dazed but not enough to cut off your oxygen supply completely. With his hand on your throat, he forced you to look at him, wanting to see the dazed, fucked out expression on your face as he continued to abuse your tight pussy. Fresh tears spilled from your doe like eyes as you watched him furrow his brow, the pleasure he felt increasing with each snap of his hips.

“Only I can have you this way,” he grumbled, sweat dripping from his forehead, his hair clinging to his tanned skin, “Shepard could never make you feel like this, understand me? No one could ever make you feel like this. Got that? You belong to me.”

Normally something like that would piss you off but the way he had you pressed into the mattress with his cock practically claiming every inch of your insides made you feel intoxicated. You couldn’t even answer him when he said it, just nodding your head as drool slipped from your partly open lips.

“Look at you,” he chuckled, “can’t even speak, that’s how good I’m making you feel right now. Fuck…you’re so fuckin’ tight. Squeezin’ me so well, doll.”

By this point, neither one of you could keep your moans down. All of your senses were dulled from pleasure and lust that you felt too drunk to care even if the neighbors heard. You were just glad your door was shut, and hopefully locked.

Dally pulled himself off of you, his hand unclamping from your neck. He picked your legs up and threw them over his broad shoulders. The sight in front of him felt almost illegal: your breasts in full, plain sight, your hands sitting tiredly beside your head tangled in the strands of your unkempt hair, the glistening sheen of sweat the coated every inch of your perfect body, and he got a full view of his cock digging deep into your cunt. His eyes rolled backwards as he rolled his hips roughly, hearty growls and moans puncturing the air as they left him. He dug his nails into your skin and you arched your back at the sensation of pain mixing with the adulterated pleasure.

“Fuck,” you cried out, fresh tears spilling over, “Dally, I’m gonna-”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence because he wouldn’t let you. All he wanted was to feel you cum all over him. He snuck his hand down and rubbed your aching clit in quick, circular motions as his thrust became more erratic. His eyes darkened at the sight of your body starting to shake uncontrollably, your orgasm was approaching fast and he couldn’t wait. He was greedy. He wanted the confirmation that you’d only ever cum on his cock ever, that some silly crush couldn’t compare to having him. You’d be begging for more after this was all over and that’s what he was hoping for.

“D-Dally,” you cried out, “I can’t.”

“Let go, doll,” he moaned out, “cum for me.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, you were shaking as your orgasm hit hard; your body arched, your pupils as they rolled backwards, your cries and moans became silent, and your hands gripped the bedding tightly. Dally’s face screwed into pleasure, too much pleasure. The sigh of you, the feeling of you tightening and soaking him, it was all too much.

“Sh-shit,” he hissed, his movements becoming sloppier with each stroke.

Your legs fell off his shoulders and he fell on top of you as the pleasure rippled through him like unsteady waves in the ocean. He buried his head into your neck, your tired arms wrapped around him as he pumped himself in and out of you.

“Sh-shit,” he cussed again, “I-I’m cumming, fuck.”

Quickly, he pulled out of you and pumped his load right onto your stomach; breathy gasp made both of you aware of the intensity of his own orgasm. He couldn’t even hold himself up anymore when he was finished. He laid down right on top of you, the smell of sweat, sex, and anything else covering y’all’s senses as exhaustion lolled y’all to sleep.

Dally was first to fall asleep, and you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling into his hair before dozing off yourself.

[aceghostsarchive]

❛ so, what do i owe this pleasure? ❜ and/or ❛ how long has it been since you've slept? ❜ for the OTP Rooney and Yorinobu

Thank you for sending these prompts in! It gave me an excuse to write some fluff, and Rooney and Yori pining for each other.

[Prompt List]

Summary: Yorinobu is having trouble sleeping, and Rooney steps into help him. (AO3 Title comes from Poets of the Fall's The Labyrinth.) Words: 2,367 words. Content Warnings: This is mostly fluff, but a warning for minor referenced drug use. Author's Note: In terms of the timeline, this fic takes place a few weeks after Rooney and Yorinobu's reunion in 2077. Also, I hope you'll forgive me for being self-indulgent and including a nod to what was supposed to be Rooney's original ship. (Lol, I say that like everything I do isn't self-indulgent.)

AO3

Taglist (Opt In/Out): @bbrocklesnar, @sergeiravenov, @alexxmason, @voidika, @tommyarashikage,

@carlosoliveiraa, @imogenkol, @strangefable, @socially-awkward-skeleton,

@theelderhazelnut, @direwombat, @derelictheretic, @cassietrn, @cloudofbutterflies92.

Yorinobu frowns, swiping to the next file. Each one is dense, heavy reading not meant for someone on such little sleep. He takes his glasses off, briefly rubbing his eyes before putting them back on. “Yorinobu-sama, Shepard is here to see you.”

“Send them in.” Anyone else would have received a sharp rebuke for disturbing him. Yorinobu wanted to see Rooney, to make up for the time that the two had spent apart. He would not make the same mistake twice. Rooney’s visit also gave him an excuse to take a needed break from searching through his father’s files. The door to his office slides open, and Rooney steps through the threshold quietly. He notes the way their eyes scan his office, searching for some potential threat. Good to know Rooney was still their hyper-vigilant self. They stride towards him as Yorinobu gets up from his chair, attempting to hide a yawn. “So, what do I owe this pleasure?” He asks as Rooney reaches his desk.

Rooney narrows their eyes, searching his face. He catches a glimpse of concern crossing their face as they take him in. “How long has it been since you’ve slept?” They ask bluntly.

“I slept last night.” A lie, but he dismisses their question with a wave of his hand. “Any updates on the Relic?”

“Bullshit,” Rooney crosses their arms over their chest, “Yorinobu, you look like shit. Seriously, when did you last sleep?”

Yorinobu loves so many things about Rooney, but their tendency to hyperfocus on a single issue causes trouble. Rooney won’t let this go until they have an answer, and Yorinobu is not in the mood. “I do not pay you to worry about my health. I pay you to find the Relic. I will not ask again-.“

“I’m not asking because you pay me,” frustration bleeds into their voice as Rooney stubbornly digs their heels in, “I am asking because I care, and it looks like you do need someone to worry about your health. Doesn’t look like Hanako or anyone else at Arasaka is doing it.”

He scoffs, anger building within him as Rooney hits a raw nerve.  “When did you last sleep?” Yorinobu notices the dark circles under their eyes, giving Rooney a semi-haunted look. What right did Rooney have to lecture him on sleep? Especially if they were getting so little themself? “You have no right to lecture me on my health.”

“Don’t turn this around on me,” They shake their head, uncrossing their arms, “We are talking about your-.”

“Do not worry,” Yorinobu reaches down towards his desk for the pill bottle in his desk drawer, some stimulants to get him through the rest of the day, until he could hopefully fall asleep, “I will make it through-.”

Yorinobu does not get the chance to finish his sentence as he starts to pull the bottle out of his desk drawer. In a blink, Rooney’s hand, the mechanical one forced upon them by Arasaka, grabs his wrist, fingers wrapping around tightly. Not tight enough to hurt him, but tight enough to let him know that Rooney is serious.  “Put it down,” They order.

“Let-.”

“No.” Rooney’s tone is deadly quiet, a grim look on their face.

“If you do not let go, I will fire you, and Smasher will throw you out.”

“No,” Rooney’s face softens, their shoulders slightly dropping as their grip around his wrist loosens, “I’m worried about you. You’ve been through a lot these last few weeks. And I’m not talking about Saburo. I’m talking about you taking over Arasaka. I know what you plan to do, and I worry that you’ll burn yourself out before you take Arasaka down. I care about you too much to let that happen.”

He drops the pills back in the desk drawer, Rooney releasing his wrist. “You are correct. I am not sleeping. Between travel and Arasaka, sleep is not a priority.” Yorinobu would sleep for an hour or two occasionally, but could not stay asleep, despite his exhaustion. More urgent matters require his attention.

“Go home. Lay down for a while. Or,” Rooney motions over their shoulder to the black leather couches in his office with a teasing smile, “You could lay down here, but I know how you feel about Arasaka couches.” He feels a warmth in his chest, touched by their attempt at a joke about his distaste for Arasaka couches.

Yorinobu relents, knowing Rooney will win this battle through sheer stubbornness. He presses down on the intercom button. “Aria, cancel the rest of my meetings for today. Tell the AV to meet me in five minutes.”

“Yes, Yorinobu-sama.”

Rooney relaxes, a weight coming off their shoulders. “Good, you need the rest.”

“You are very persuasive, and you would have dragged me back to my apartment if I did not agree,” He teases.

“Yeah,” Rooney replies sheepishly, rubbing the back of their neck in slight embarrassment, “I can be stubborn like that.”

“You are very stubborn.” A massive understatement. Yorinobu wishes that Rooney would care for themself the way they do others. When it came to everyone else, there was no limit to what Rooney would do. For themself? Rooney would brush it off, insisting that they were fine, that no one needed to look after them. He wishes they would look after themself or listen to him like they used to.

“Have a good night, Yorinobu. I’ll update you on my investigation next time; there isn’t much.”

“Good night, Rooney.”

He watches them turn away, walking a few steps. Rooney stops and turns back towards him, seemingly hesitant. “Would you like me to come with you? I know playing with your hair helped you fall asleep,” They ask, rolling their left shoulder out of nervousness. His eyes widen in surprise as Rooney backpedals, looking away from him, flustered and bright red. “I’m sorry; I overstepped. Forget what I-.”

“No,” He cuts them off, “You caught me by surprise. If you want to come, I would not say no, but please do not feel compelled to.”

“I want to,” the words rush out of their mouth slightly, Rooney relaxing, “I mean, I would be happy to.” They smile at him softly, that small smile reserved for few, reserved for him.

Yorinobu smiles back, a warm feeling in his chest. “Good. Allow me a few minutes to get ready.”

—

Rooney follows him into the apartment, like a shadow. “Go get comfortable. I’ll go put on some white noise,” Yorinobu raises an eyebrow, “Reconnected with some old friends from the Unification War in Night City. One of them swears by white noise along with some other stuff. Figure it might help you too.”

“From the Unification War?” In all their time together, Rooney rarely talked about the Unification War. He knew that whatever Rooney had seen had been horrific, having met a few other Unification War veterans.

They nod. “He was Militech; I was part of the Free States. It’s a long story; He’s an,” Rooney pauses, brow furrowing for a moment as they search for their next words, “interesting guy.”

“He does sound interesting. Do you take any of his advice?”

“I tried,” Rooney frowns, wrinkling their nose as Yorinobu holds back a laugh, “It only stressed me out more.”

“You think it will help me?”

“Can’t hurt. Besides, you know how I am,” They smile at him again, “Now, go get ready.”

Several minutes later, Yorinobu lies on the right side of the bed. Rooney approaches, shrugging off their worn black and blue leather coat. They fold it neatly, laying it on the nightstand. Sitting on the edge of his bed, Rooney takes off their boots, before sitting up against the headboard. Yorinobu lays his head in their lap as the soft rain noises play. Their hand runs through his hair, a relaxing sensation. He sighs in contentment, closing his eyes as serenity washes over him. As he drifts off to sleep, Yorinobu hopes that they’ll still be here when he wakes up.

—

Stifling a yawn, Rooney looks down at Yorinobu, relieved to see him asleep. They had been deeply concerned about him when they stepped into his office. Yorinobu looks tired and older than when they first saw him, the weight of Arasaka finally bearing down on his shoulders. Despite their duty towards V, Rooney hopes that they can help shoulder some of Yorinobu’s burdens, especially with Arasaka. Their hand continues to play with his hair, a comforting motion to Rooney. A yawn escapes them, Rooney blinking slowly. Their eyes feel heavy, their own exhaustion overtaking them. Maybe, they could just close their eyes for a few seconds. Wouldn’t hurt them.

—

Yorinobu groans, his senses coming back to him as he wakes. He feels a comforting pressure on his waist, looking down to see a familiar red and black metal arm wrapped around him. Glancing over his shoulder, Yorinobu finds Rooney spooning him, still asleep. They are frowning in their sleep, as they always do, but still sleeping peacefully. Rooney must have fallen asleep, exhausted from their PI work. He smiles softly, happy to lay with Rooney in this quiet moment. He remembers the moments the pair would spend in bed, a lazy morning to themselves. Cuddling together as they would quietly talk, which occasionally turned into something more intimate.

As if they sense his staring, Rooney awakes, blinking a few times. “Where-?” They mumble, their voice groggy. Awareness kicks in seconds later as their eyes widen. “Yorinobu, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to,” They apologize profusely, pulling away from him and sitting up against the headboard, “I don’t know what happened. I’m really sorr-.”

“Do not apologize,” He shakes his head as he sits up next to them, trying not to feel hurt, “You were asleep.” Disappointment lingers in his chest. Perhaps Yorinobu misread their signals, thinking that Rooney might still have lingering feelings.

Rooney does not look convinced, guilt on their face. Before they can apologize again, he notices the electric blue circle in their eyes, a telltale sign of Rooney receiving a call. “Yorinobu, do you mind if I take this call for a second?”

Shaking his head, he reaches for his glasses, setting them on his nose as Rooney answers. “Vik, I’m okay.” A jealous feeling rises in his chest. Who is Vik? A partner perhaps? He grabs his phone as they speak again. “I promise I’m fine. Listen, I’ll meet up with you later. I’m in the middle of something right now.” Now, Yorinobu is ‘something’, a secret to be hidden? “Thanks. I should go.”

They hang up, looking over at him. “Sorry, I had to take that.”

Yorinobu waves them off, burning with jealousy. Rooney moved on with their life, just as he had. He had no right to expect them to pine after him. Yet, Yorinobu felt jealous of Vik. He hopes that Vik is treating Rooney well, understanding how rare someone like Rooney is. “I understand,” wincing at how bitter his voice sounds, “You do not want your boyfriend to know you are in bed with another man.”

“Boyfriend?” Rooney blurts out, staring at him in shock. Realization dawns on them a few seconds later “Vik! Oh no, he’s a really close friend,” They rub their neck awkwardly, and Yorinobu senses that there might be something more to it, “That’s all, just a close friend.”

“Oh?”

They nod. “What about you? I was surprised you didn’t have someone waiting for you here.”

With Rooney back in his life, Evelyn had become an afterthought, a past situation. While he preferred his relationships casual, Rooney had been one of the few exceptions, turning his life upside down. “No, I am not seeing anyone. Are you seeing anyone?”

“No,” Rooney rolls their shoulder, slightly embarrassed, “When I returned to the military, I went on a few first dates at the encouragement of friends, but none of them made it past that,” They look down at their hands, “Truth be told, none of them were you, and it didn’t seem fair to lead them on.” Rooney looks up again, meeting his eyes. “I guess, it’s just finding someone special now.”

“Have you found someone special?”

Rooney smiles at him fondly, a warm, affectionate look in their eyes. “I might have,” They admit, “There are things that I have to take care of first. But, once I take care of that, I think I can give it a shot. Anyone catch your eye?”

Does that mean-? Yorinobu feels lighter, like he wasn’t wrong for reading into their actions. “Not until recently,” He reaches out, tucking a strand of their dark red hair behind their ear, “I would ask them, but they are dealing with something. I hope they will tell me what they are dealing with and let me help.” Please let me help. “I want to help them.”

Their cheeks flush bright red. “I hope it works out for you,” Rooney replies softly, trying to keep the wide smile off their face, “Do you need to get back to Arasaka?”

“I should.” Yorinobu would rather not. He would much rather stay here with Rooney, letting this moment last a little longer between them. “I need to keep looking through the old man’s notes, understand what he was working on.”

Rooney frowns, growing serious. “Yorinobu, if you need help with that, you know you only have to ask, right?”

“I do.” He knows that he could ask almost anything of Rooney, and they would do it for him. If Rooney were to ask almost anything of him, Yorinobu would do it. He wishes they would ask him for help, confide him in like they used to. He wishes he could truly confide in them like he used to. Another reminder of the distance between them.

“Good luck, Yori,” Their nickname for him slips out as they get out of bed, “And if you need help sleeping or with Arasaka, don’t be a stranger. You can always call, anytime.”

“Thank you, Rooney.”

“Goodbye.” They grab their coat, departing from the bedroom, leaving him all alone. Yorinobu sighs, his shoulders dropping. One day, he will convince Rooney to stay.

[reidslovely]

I wrote the 'incorrect quote' version of this last night and wanted to write a blurb based on it. I also just love normal Harry and Peter being besties because we didn't get to see it in their movie like we should have. So here take this to tickle the frat!Peter and frat!Harry itch.

____

It was a dumb trend Peter had seen on tiktok, mostly with people forcing camera’s into the face of their animals. He had done it with Bashful’s family pets when they went to her hometown for the weekend, however he thought he knew a better participant other than the german shepard puppy and calico cat his girlfriend loved dearly. Someone who’d sent his head through the wall of the frat house a raging four times from laughing so hard. Someone who's gotten so black out drunk that he tried to unlock the gate from the hinges on the inside before throwing himself over it. Someone who's truly never had a coherent thought behind his eyes. 

Peter, arguably about three melon bombs in, ran down the steps of the frat house Bashful on his heels. “Stop, slow down, I don't wanna miss it.” She yelled laughing. 

Peter readied his phone with the TikTok audio before rushing to the backyard of the frat house. Harry jumped looking over his shoulder smiling at his friend who rapidly approached him with a devious joy in his run. Peter came to a halting stop in front of Harry, knocking the glasses off his face, Peter’s hand resting on top of his blonde locks as the video started. 

“You have a smoooooth brain.” 

Peter poked his head, dragging his finger across his friend's forehead. “No ridges or lumps.” 

Harry laughed, staring at his friend and Bashful covering her mouth laughing at Harry’s confusions. 

“Or valleys or bumps. All idea’s slide right off...like a water slide” 

Harry pulled his head away swatting at Peter’s hand as his friend took off running again. 

“What the fuck was that?”

“You have a smooth brain, Har, it’s okay.” Bashful teased, ruffling his hair. 

“I literally have stocks in Oscorp, Peter’s the smooth brain one here.” 

Peter walked back and sat on the arm of Harry’s yard chair. “Whatever helps you Har, I’m not the one who got stuck in a spider-man kids float and almost drowned.” 

“I wish you had.” Harry mumbled sliding his sunglasses back on. 

[writtenjewels]

Reflect

Shepard finally had the chance to look at himself in the mirror. The image staring back at him made him recoil in shock. Was this him? He tilted his head to one side, raised an eyebrow, scrunched up his nose. The image copied his every move. Still, he was having trouble reconciling the reflection to himself. What he stared at was a stranger.

There were lines in his skin. Not the kind that came from wrinkles, though that would have been strange. These lines were more like fissures splitting his skin apart. Each line had a faint glow. What the hell had Cerberus done to him?

His hair and beard proved he had been out for a long time. He had grown a beard, when usually anything more than stubble would bother him. His hair had grown out, too, all the dye long gone. Shepard brushed loose strands away from his eyes. At least those were the same gray color he remembered.

He stepped away from the mirror, turned on his heels, and headed to the captain's quarters. He knew the mission was important and he needed to get started, but he couldn't do that until he felt like himself. The first order of business was to shave off this beard.

Shepard felt much better once his jaw was smooth again. His hair needed to go next; the only person on the ship he trusted to do that was Doctor Chakwas. He found her working at her desk in sick bay.

“Commander,” she greeted. “Good, I was hoping I wouldn't have to track you down. With all the chaos, I haven't been able to run a physical on you.”

“Could you help me with this when you're done?” he asked, running his fingers meaningfully through his hair.

“I'm not a barber, but I'll do what I can.” She ran a scanner over him and typed a few things on her omni-tool. “You're in good health, Commander,” she assured him. “Your implants have taken and Cerberus has taken care to stimulate your muscles to prevent atrophy. I would still recommend some light exercises.”

Shepard nodded along as she spoke. He hesitated, before asking the question that plagued him since he saw his reflection. “How much did they change me, doc?”

“As I said, you now have some implants and synthetics. It was unavoidable with the damage you suffered.” Chakwas gave him a somber look. “But I have compared your past medical records with what I'm seeing now, and you are unchanged on the most important, fundamental level: your mind.”

“How can you be sure?” Shepard challenged.

“First of all, you're asking me that question.” Chakwas's look shifted into more of a smile. “If Cerberus manipulated your mind, you wouldn't worry about it. Second, the hair.” Shepard raised an eyebrow at her. Now there was an amused light in the doctor's eyes. “I remember how you liked to keep it short and dyed, even as we were chasing after Saren.”

The reminder embarrassed him. He knew how silly it was to care about something like this, but growing up like he did, Shepard didn't have a lot of control over his environment. He moved when his parents were stationed, and never got to have lasting friendships. Dyeing his hair was one of the few things he had a choice in back then.

And he still cared about it now. It was small, and trivial, and really didn't matter. But it was important to him. Shepard took some comfort in that.

[milkywayes]

WIP Whenever

tagged like a week ago by @serendipitys-teapot, thank you so much for thinking of me! I finally got around to it >:)

I think most everyone has already done this, but since it was a week ago maybe they’d like to do it again? lol. no pressure! tagging @gammaraydeath @kalliesa @dispatchwithlove @continuous-spec @callista-curations

from the very capricious (read: it’s been kicking my ass for months) draft of Cipher’s chapter 11. I’m making headway again and I hope I can start uploading chapters again soon on ao3! sorry for the wait everyone.

“Loitering,” he says mildly, though a bobbing mandible betrays his discomfort. “Listen to yourself. It’s not loitering… if I’m here with a purpose.” She crosses her arms. Fingers tighten around the Normandy piece that she forgot to return to the pile, sweaty in her grip. She’s probably ruining the paint job on it. “And what’s that purpose, Garrus?” “Waiting for you.” The tug at her mouth strengthens. So does the flush, which has reached her ears by now. “Intercepting, you mean.” He shrugs as if to say, same thing. “You know,” she ventures, “I’ve come to expect you to just barge right in.” “The call was… a surprise.” Garrus breaks eye contact to glance down at his omni-tool arm, then shrugs again. Sub-zero temperatures have begun creeping through the section doors at Garrus’ back, spreading goosebumps over her arms—he shivers, pushing off them and stepping around her in one stilted, stalking movement. “Had to take that one. I figured you’d come out eventually.” She turns on the spot, keeps looking at him. Tracking him. “No-comms black op?” “You could say that.” Leaning back on her heels means she gets a better look at his face; he notices, takes an additional step back to grant her the view. His shoulders point down the length of the corridor, but his head’s tilted her way, indifferent to the scrutiny. It’s odd: all this time with no answers forthcoming, and now he’s suddenly unconcerned about letting her listen in on classified communications. Holding eye contact as he does it. Every move intentional. She catalogues the angles of his face, strangely patient, offset only by the ceaseless musing and scrolling of his visor. She says, “That wasn’t just mission HQ checking in with the ground team. I don’t know Blackwatch’s command structure, but the guy’s the primarch, and he’s overseeing this personally. So either it’s of vital importance—or he’s making an exception for you.” “The thing about exceptions is they never end well. Any lapse in conviction’s a hole for the enemy to exploit—or so goes the age-old maxim.” The delivery’s joking, but his countenance is not; fingers move to pluck at the flared sleeves of his jacket, picking off lint, imagined or otherwise. “Victus loves the idea of having a protégé. I’ve found it’s best not to psychoanalyze him over it. Too risky.” Shepard, pursing her lips, has some thoughts about that. Also about Garrus, whose new-found openness appears to have hard limits—as evidenced by his answer, which wasn’t really an answer at all. She forces herself to relax out of stance. She’s been standing with her heels ground into the flooring, like this is a square-off at high noon rather than… what it is. Her finger pads dig into the Normandy’s nose, a grounding sensation, and then she’s closing the distance again. Lightly, she asks, “Scared he’d psychoanalyze you right back?”  “Absolutely.”

[make-me-imagine]

A New Experience

Plot: John wants to confess his feelings to you during Valentines, but you aren't originally from Earth, and have no idea what Valentines Day is.

Pairing: John Shepard x Gn!Alien!Reader

Prompts: "What are these for?" "Valentines Day." "Why?" + A takes B's hand to help them down steps/wall, and doesn't let go

Requested By: @gaitwae & Anonymous

Warnings: A kiss at the end. Mention of roof ledge (sitting on).

Words: ~1.2k

-

As John made his way around the Atlantis base, his eyes scouring every room for you, his heart beat nervously in his chest. Over the course of the few months you had been settling in at the Atlantis base, becoming a new team member, John had fallen completely head-over-heels for you.

He debated constantly when or if he should tell you about how he felt, often chickening out last minute. But as the Earthly holiday of love slowly infected the Atlantis base, he felt more courage than he had before.

So here he was, looking desperately for you, hoping to whisk you away to his room, where he had set up a dinner for the two of you. He got flowers chocolates, and hopefully the confidence to tell you exactly how he felt.

"Hey Zelenka!" He called out as the scientist walked past "You seen Y/n?"

"Oh yes, roof, I believe."

"Roof." John sighed out with realization. You often went out to look out at the water to relax.

Quickly making his way up to the roof, he took a few deep breaths, hoping to quiet his anxieties.

As he made his way out onto the roof his eyes moved around, before finally spotting you sitting up on a roof ledge, legs dangling over as you peered out at the water. He always felt a nervous flutter in his stomach when he saw you there, so close to danger, yet appearing so peaceful.

Making sure his steps could be heard, so he did not startled you, he walked over. Turning your head to look back, you smiled as you saw him.

"Hello John." You greeted, your own heart fluttering in your chest as you saw his familiar warm smile.

"Hey Y/n." Leaning on the edge of the wall, he looked over for a moment before looking at you "You got any plans for this evening?"

You shook your head with a soft smile "No, why?"

"Well, I thought you might join me, for dinner."

You felt butterflies in your stomach as you smiled "I'd love to."

You'd often sit in the mess hall with John or the others and eat, you enjoyed spending that time with them. You wondered if the others would be joining you again tonight.

"Great!" He said with a bright smile "You hungry now?"

You let out a soft laugh "Yes actually I am. I was planning on heading in to eat soon."

As you turned around, facing the roof, you moved to jump down. John reached out his hand or you to take as you did so, and you smiled softly as you took it.

Jumping down from the ledge you expected John to release your hand, but you were surprised when he did not, instead he smiled almost bashfully at you as he lead you inside.

You felt your cheeks and neck warm up as his hand continued to hold yours. You were not averse to the action, far from it actually, but you were definitely caught off guard by it.

As you stood in the lift, making your way down, John cleared his throat, "I think you'll like what I got for dinner."

You frowned slightly, unsure of what he meant. "What do you mean? Are they serving something unusual today?"

As you said this, John realized he had made an error. He was not specific enough.

"Oh, no, uh, when I asked if you would eat with me, I meant just the two of us, I had something special made up for us."

Your heart was now pounding in your chest, and the reason behind his holding your hand started to make a bit more sense.

You smiled at him "Oh, I see, that sounds wonderful."

He smiled at you, obviously relieved you were still happy to have dinner with him. He glanced down at your still intertwined hands and smiled to himself.

As the lift doors opened to the floor where you knew John's room was on your stomach grew tighter as you began to grow nervous. You had feelings for John, you had since you first met him.

Now your mind was full of thoughts of what this dinner was for, why was he holding your hand, did this mean he felt the same as you? The way he looked at you seemed to express enough, but you still held doubts.

Making your way into John's room, you were stunned to see a table set up for dinner, complete with candles. John quickly pulled out his phone and you watched him for a moment before he looked back up at you.

"Our food will show up son, I had the kitchen hold it while I looked for you."

You smiled fondly at him as he seemed to hold a nervous energy about him.

"Oh!" He exclaimed softly, before grabbing something off the counter, turning back around he handed you a bouquet of beautiful red flowers "I got these for you".

You looked at them in awe before looking up at John "Oh they're beautiful, what are they?"

He smiled "They're called dahlias."

As you smelled them, you looked back at John "What are these for? What is all of this for John?" Your tone was bewildered but obviously pleased.

John smiled "Valentines day."

You blinked a few times "Why? What is, Valentines day?"

As realization washed over John, he let out a soft chuckle "It's an Earth holiday, obviously, I thought you may have heard about it by now."

You shook your head "What does it mean?"

"Oh, that's- uh, well, it's a holiday for people to celebrate love, and relationships of all kinds."

"So you are celebrating our...friendship?" You asked softly, worried you misinterpreted what this was.

He smiled "No, not really. Uhm, it is a holiday mostly celebrated by couples, it's a romantic holiday. And a lot of people, including me in this case use it as a way to express how they feel about someone."

Now your heart was beating faster again, maybe you did not misunderstand after all.

"And what it is you are trying to express to me?"

He smiled as he took a step closer to you his eyes grazed your face softly before he spoke "I wanted to express that I am crazy about you." As you smiled brightly at his confession, he felt more confident "And I've been a coward these past couple months having not told you and I'm sorry it took so long."

You smiled bashfully at him before you spoke softly "I have been a coward too then."

He grinned at you, as you stared at each other for a moment in blissful silence. Reaching over, he gently caressed the back of your hand before he met your eyes again "I really like you."

"I really like you too John."

Leaning closer, slowly, his eyes drifted from your eyes down to your lips. Gently, your lips met in a soft kiss, as John's hand gently drifted up your arm, before he cupped your chin and deepened the kiss.

You had a feeling you were really going to enjoy this new holiday.

xx End xx

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

Stargate Taglist: @hybrid-omegaverse, @gatefleet, @cs-please, @fandomdancer,

[rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me]

A) Curly is obviously intimidated by Tim-almost everyone is.

B) Tim cares about his stupid little brother. A lot.

C) the Shepards have an…intense way of caring for each other

So when you came around, the obvious choice for Tim was to try and scare you away from Curly. He didn’t want to see his brother get hurt. He’d do everything in his power to get you to leave his brother, to avoid damage before you can start.

Curly knew, and he didn’t like it. At first, he stayed quiet about it because Tim was his brother and could beat his ass with one arm anytime needed. But when Tim made comments about other girls? When he made targeted comments towards you?

He flipped.

Curly walked you home early on that one night. He left you with nothing but a (surprisingly) gentle kiss on the forehead and a small, “I’ll take care of it.”

and god he did

Curly went home fuming, slamming the front door off its hinges. He called Tim just about every name under the sun. He cursed and he swore and things were thrown because who the hell was he to treat them like that?

And, to everyone’s surprise, Tim just took it. And he grinned because his little brother was head over heels.

Curly, spitting and swearing, cursing Tim up and down because of the way Tim treated his S/O, throwing things and slamming things:

Tim, soaking it all in with a smug smile before finally chiming in: So you love ‘em, huh? Good for you, ya softy.

[simowis]

【story clip】 Many many years later：Memory Shard

Continuation of the previous post

*Translated by DeepL and Proofread by me.

Shepard left the port cargo room. First she apologised to Javik. Bending down, she picked up the echo shard she had struck from his hand and returned it to the pedestal. Her distant footsteps were somewhat hasty.

Javik submerged his entire hands in the pool, the cold water helping to keep his emotions subdued. The pheromones he'd released earlier - those memories of the present moment integrated before and after each mission - melted into the water, with rippling waves of water lapping at his wrists, continuing to underline reality. Reality. Yes, reality.

The Sanctuary plan had failed, he was the only one left in the present after 50,000 years, he had failed his race.

And ever since he woke up and went through so much, he'd been running away. It wasn't until now that he was finally mentally ready to face everyone, and then Shepard pushed him.

She wanted to know about Prothean's former glory, he found those memories and conveyed them to her; she wanted to know the details of the Reaper War, he transported a lot of death. She didn't want to know any more and panicked, knocking the shards out of his hands.

He was gazing at the shadows of his comrades when he was abruptly pulled back to reality. So he poured out his nightmare to her. The past that had killed his comrades with his own hands.

Word for word, Javik meticulously describes the details of the murder. As expected, Shepard's body radiates panic and guilt.

----

He shook the water out of his hands.

What he had just done was inappropriate. Those words shouldn't have been spoken. He shouldn't have infected anyone else with his nightmares, especially Shepard.

In fact, he should have been thanking her for giving him the opportunity to read the shard.

Drying his hands, Javik went back to the pedestal and picked up the shard. He was a little bothered by what he had just seen. After clearing his mind, he unleashed a little biotic energy. The memory shard began to tremble and glow with a faint light. The next moment he was back in his memories, where he was with his comrades. In a conspicuous corner, he found it: A memory shard, spinning silently on its pedestal.

A shard that existed within a echo shard.

The shard present in the memories are hidden, this is to prevent the person reading the memories from getting lost in the echo shard, like being in an endless corridor of reflections between two opposing mirrors, looping indefinitely, unable to find an exit. Javik remembered. The shard had been returned to him after 'Mirror' had been sacrificed. And soon, the husks had launched a full-scale invasion of the sanctuary, he hadn't had a chance to read it. After a moment's thought, he manipulated himself in this memory to touch it .

----

It was a compressed archive. Memory fragments overlapped, all in read-only mode. 'Mirror' seemed to be using this as a repository for her hidden logs.

He read them in order, starting at the very end, which was a very short memory:

It was pitch black. Maybe ‘Mirror’ closed her eyes. There was an intense pain at the back of her neck. Her voice broke with a lot of stray interference: "…Farewell, 'Organic'…go first…can't control it…" Her hand was shaking as she shoved the cold piece of metal into her mouth. The clip was over.

Those were her last words. Javik remembered how she died. Along with the shard, he was given an image of her remains.

He mourned for a moment, then read the previous entry, which was a slightly longer memory:

Her back tensed involuntarily, the holes in her head carapace bubbling with steam, a chill running from her heels down her spine to the back of her head. Her voice: "All infected? All females? When did this start… Victory, do a scan of me!" "……" The noise was so bad that he couldn't make out what Vcitory had said in reply. She asked again: "…predict how much time I have left before complete deterioration?" "……" Victory's answer was covered in noise. She clenched her fists tightly and closed all four of her eyes, her eyebrow carapace furrowing as she digested the message. Gradually, the forehead carapace loosened again, 'Mirror' let out a sigh. Darkness returned. This memory came to an abrupt end.

The fragments were numerous and fragmentary. Scrolling forward, Javik noticed that one of the memories took up an unusually large space. He gave it a cursory scan. It was a log of seemingly ordinary memory. It was quite possible that 'Mirror' had hidden something here. Reading it required caution and care. Every environmental detail in this memory had the potential to hide something:

But it begins again in darkness. 'Mirror' was lying on the table, all four eyes closed. The side of her cheek was pressed against the cool desk as she muttered lazily to herself, ""Finally done…" He had given her many difficult tasks before, perhaps this was a memory of just finishing. 'Mirror''s hand went to the side of the table, she tried to reach for something, but couldn't. After a few irritated gropes, she reluctantly opened one eye and then grabbed her target:

A memory shard.

Memory Shard?

Shard of shard of shard of shard… what the hell…?

He didn't have time to disengage before 'Mirror' touched the shard. A wave pulled her consciousness, wrapped with his, upwards together. Up, and up, until he was thrown into a white room and 'Mirror's' consciousness had quietly vanished. All that was left in that space was him, and a huge grey beacon in front of him. Javik closed his eyes. The rumble of Normandy vibrated vaguely against the soles of his feet; he tried to curl his fingers and felt them touch the rough surface of the shard in reality. It seems he were back in the original shard, and here was the hidden space that could only be discovered in this way.

No matter, he had remembered the location of this space.

This area, 'Mirror' had probably deliberately led him to. A tower-like beacon with a faint yellow light flickered on the lower platform, as if someone were calling out.

He couldn't help but think of how many Protheans had been corrupted by the polluted information coming from the beacon. Even in latency, the effects of indoctrination could be passed on to others through sensory communication. After the fall of the Citadel, this was the reason for the rapid disintegration of the Empire. People were forced to voluntarily give up contact with other solar systems, or be watched forever by their own kind after risking great exposure to the beacon. They have to communicating in the least efficient ways of speaking and writing, and the reliability of messages became a problem. Until… Late in his era, anti-indoctrination scans and vaccines finally became available, but resources were so scarce that only the most important could have access to them. The noise, on the other hand, was a side effect of shielding against the effects of indoctrination.

Without hesitation, Javik reaches out to touch the beacon.

No one answered. Instead there was another memory:

Someone jumped from a very high chair and stepped through a very large, old door. The view was low, he saw the unfaded roots of the baby wings on the shoulders. The owner of the memory would have been a hatchling. The stairs were wide and long, and the vision-owner climbed to the surface first, pulse pounding. One by one, his companions jumped out. Some tried to fly, others rolled around on the ground, having a great time. Perspective kept his gaze fixed on the stairs, apparently searching for someone, when his head carapace was accidentally attacked by a tiny ball of mud. He, no, it should be she, screaming at the top of her lungs in pursuit of the bad guy who had just thrown her - the one she was looking for, her best friend, her constant playmate. The two of them chased each other across the lightly sandy land, the sky was golden, and the huge moon with its two connected pupils at the equator was just peeking out. She heard her playmate call out her child's name. He'd conceded defeat, so the game of hide and seek was hers. But before she could declare victory, she was stabbed in the back. Her playmate had dared to sneak up on her with a branch. So she played the zombie and had to be knocked out. Then she climbed up and defiantly found a longer branch. This time it was her turn to be the hero. …Eventually, tired of playing, they lay on the ground, saying random nouns, pretending that was their future codename. He insisted on adding the pronunciation of his home planet to his codename. She was free to think about how glorious it would be to be an Avatar. "I've decided, you will be called -" she said triumphantly as she climbed to her feet and pointed to his head carapace.

He felt a tinge of nostalgia.

He hadn't expected to see the familiar colours of the sky again. He was a little grateful that 'Mirror' still had such clear memories of his childhood. Javik spoke the code name she had given him quietly. That naive, childish, impractical codename that belonged only to that 50,000-year-old standard year. That belonged only to his short childhood.

The yellow light at the bottom of the beacon went white.

The white debris slowly began to piece together the figure of 'Mirror', who stood upright in a salute and said:

"It's been a long time…yet, 'Organic'. Since you found your way here, I should be dead. You're having all sorts of problems with the resurrection of the Empire, aren't you? It's a shame I can't help you with my psychic. But…" she turned and touched the grey tower, "Don't worry, I've stored the souls of the people in the shard in this virtual beacon, and through it you can still call people for discussion in the way I taught you. " The image turned back, "Remember, it will help you relieve the pressure of the psychic, but you still have to give them some of your brain space. Don't call too many people at once, it will be overwhelming." At the end, she clears her throat and chants out loud: "For the Empire! Imperium Forever! Good luck to you! 'Mirror' out."

Then she disappears; it was just a scan replay.

Javik touched the beacon again and felt a list of the code names and duties of many people in the chronological order in which they were stored. He couldn't find 'Mirror', she hadn't stored herself there. It seemed she had followed the old law - a psychic could only live once. But she did keep a copy of the course material for future psychics for practice. Javik pulled his hand away from the beacon.

He let go of the memory shard and returned to the reality that was filling up with pheromones and booms. Javik dipped his hand back into the sink once more.

He needed some time to digest everything.

[ryosmne]

Three brats??

Dad!Sukuna x f!reader

So this is basically a comfort fic, featuring dad! Sukuna because the brainrot was too much. Ok so, the reader and Sukuna have a son together, yes their son is Yuuji, I know this is usually the single father Sukuna trope, but I wanted to give it a go, feedback is always appreciated. Thanks for brainrotting with me @likeab-o-s-s cause this is the reason this exists. That's all from me enjoy reading.

Warnings: none really, just family, heartwarming fluff.

The air was crisp and fresh, unusually refreshing for the beginning of summer. Parents were already gathered outside the daycare, Yuuji, y/n's and Sukuna's son attended, patiently waiting for their kids to run in their arms again.

Sukuna arrived a couple of minutes before the final bell on his motorcycle, he took off his helmet, leaned back on his bike and waited for the familiar little pink head of hair to come wobling to him.

The three mothers next to him, scooted a bit closer to him to get a better look nothing he's unfamiliar with and no one can blame them, Sukuna is a sight for sore eyes. Leather jacket with the sleeves rolled up, extenuating his board shoulders, exposing his tattoo covered skin, v neck white t shirt, allowing his toned chest and even more of his tattoos to show and a simple black pair of pants hugging his muscular thighs in the best of ways.

In the past some of the bolder ones had mustered the courage and asked him if he was a single father since they had never seen his son's mother, but with a laugh Sukuna brushed them off telling them how his lovely wife was a working parent and her schedule just didn't match the daycares. Maybe the very unconventional wedding rings they got weren't the best idea in this situation, even though they were extremely beautiful and unique.

"I really admire the work you put in the little guy" Sukuna's gaze met a woman who attempted to strike a conversation, oblivious to what she had meant by her statement he replied, maybe these three minutes would pass faster talking about normal things and not stressing about work.

"Don't we all put work on our kids?" He spoke calmly with a slight smile that he always wore when talking about Yuuji.

"Yeah, we do, but it still must be hard I can't imagine what you're going through" Sukuna's mind went to the worst scenario. Was Yuuji a trouble maker at school? He is a very well behaved child, both him and y/n made sure to teach him proper manners and how to be polite, that couldn't be it right?

The bell rung, and kids made their way out of the daycare, Yuuji in the blink of an eye was hugging his father's leg, exited to see him after the hours he was gone. In a swift motion Sukuna put Yuuji's little backpack on his own back and scooped the boy up in his arm.

"Yuuji's a pretty good kid, hes never been difficult" Sukuna smilled again resuming in the short conversation with the woman next to him. "Single father's like you don't get the credit they deserve". She spoke again smiling sadly down to the little pink haired boy who seemed too fixated on the earrings his father was wearing.

Sukuna finally understanding what this whole thing was about, chuckled, this had happened before after all, he should've known.

"I'm not a single parent, speaking of that your mom said she has a big surprise for you after dinner" he said directing his attention to his son again, the woman next to him quickly fumbled an apology for missundertanding, to which Sukuna replied to with a simple 'dont worry about it'. He placed Yuuji on his bike, put on both his and his boys helmet and drove off.

Y/n was still stuck at work, thankfully her husband would cook dinner tonight cause overtime was killing both her and her mood, good thing she finally had a day off tomorrow.

Y/n checked her phone to see how close she was to going home only to find a text that Yuuji's teacher had send her that was obviously meant for her husband.

Hello Mr Itadori, this is Mrs Laura from the day care. I was wondering if you wanted to get launch with me after school tomorrow, you can bring little Yuuji too, I'm awaiting your response, have a nice night.

What the hell was that? Well y/n's number was in Yuuji's contact information, she chuckled at the words displayed on her screen but she couldn't really blame the teach, Sukuna was a walking temptation, she knew that first hand, hell she fell head over heels for the dangerous looking guy who hid a heart of gold under his hard exterior, but the teacher could at least check who the number belonged to.

Y/n run her last errands and made sure to pick up Yuuji's surprise before heading home, she even tipped Sukuna off so their son wouldn't know what hit him.

Y/n made her way inside the family house, tossing her keys somewhere on the living room couch.

Yuuji immediately after hearing her car in the driveway came rushing down the stairs, jumping around her like he always did when she came home.

"Mom, mom you're home." The happiness was evident in the boys face, his smile was wide when y/n dropped to his level to pick him up and spin him around

"Yes I am little devil, did you give your father hell like we agreed?" She spoke in the happiest of tones with Yuuji still in her arms. Another set of arms engulfed her frame making her halt on spinning the little boy.

"So you're telling him to be a little brat now huh?" Sukuna's breath tickled the side of her neck and ear as he rested his head on her shoulder and wrapped his strong arms around her waist. "Welcome home love" he spoke again giving her jaw a ghost of a kiss.

"Daddy is the food ready" Yuuji spoke from y/n's arms, Sukuna only laughed at his son's appetite, and directed both him and y/n to the kitchen where he had already set everything up.

"Mommy, what is a single dad?" Yuuji asked in the middle of dinner in typical fashion of his, any question he had from something he heard through the day would always come up during dinner.

"Well Yuuji, single fathers are the fathers who raise their kids alone." The young boy seemed to think about his mother's words before speaking again. "So its just a daddy ?" Yuuji asked again with his eyes growing a bit sadder, his mother nodded, and Yuuji's eyes started to water.

"Baby what's wrong?" y/n asked. "Hey buddy what's going on?" Sukuna was growing quite concerned too. Yuuji burst in tears leaving his seat, climbing up his dad and hugging him tightly. Sukuna was rubbing his back to comfort the young boy and y/n's hand was stroking the kids hair in an effort to calm him down. "B-but why did that lady c-call you that, is m-mommy l-leaving?" Everything seemed to click for Sukuna, y/n was still confused but in the calmest sweetest voice said "Yuuji, baby look at me, I'm not going anywhere ok?" And the boy left his father's arms and clung on to her like his life depended on it.

Sukuna cracked a few jokes and lightened Yuuji's mood so he could enjoy the rest of his dinner, which went pretty well, he was his smiling adorable self very soon after his parents reassured him that none of them were ever leaving his side and the boy was now drawing with crayons in the living room. He seemed to have completely forgotten about the surprise his father mentioned when he picked him up.

Y/n and Sukuna were doing the dishes in the kitchen, each one talking about their day, Sukuna explained the awkward conversation he had at the daycare that sparked Yuuji's sadness, y/n took a turn in talking about how her son's teacher, basically asked Sukuna out on a date but messed up and texted her. "How about you set up a date and you show up? I mean it's you she texted right?" Sukuna joked "Babe, that's cruel" y/n chuckled at her husband's mischievous nature.

"So you've got everything ready?" Sukuna asked. "yeah who'll bring him over?"

"You do it I'll keep Yuuji busy."

Sukuna joined Yuuji on the couch. "What are you drawing little brat?" Y/n heard him ask their boy in the usual sweet tone he had with him. She made her way down the basement, where she kept the surprise since she came home. Yuuji was going to love this, Sukuna was too, she knew she was already in love as well.

Y/n climbed the stairs quickly, and snuck up behind her son, who was occupied by his dad, she gently tapped the boys shoulder.

"A PUPPY" Yuuji announced exited making sure his voice was still soft not to scare the eager dog that his mom brought to his arms. Yuuji gently held the puppy that was licking his face as he was in a fit of laughter and excitement. Sukuna was as exited as his son and y/n had a huge smile on her face too. Their son had begged and begged for a dog ever since his best friend, Megumi got a black German shepherd puppy. Of course y/n and Sukuna wanted to comply to Yuuji's request right away, but they took time to teach little Yuuji everything there was about the responsibility of owning a dog. They took him to dog cafes and shelters, so he would be the perfect little dog owner, they taught him patience and responsibility beforehand. Sukuna visited the local shelter and decided with y/n on a white Shepard puppy that Yuuji always pointed out in your visits because 'he looks like Megumi's puppy they can be friends like we are' who can say no to that little adorable devil?

The puppy momentarily left Yuuji's arms to lick Sukuna's face. "Now we've got two little brats and a big one in our house." He laughed, enjoying the moment.

Y/n was admiring her son and husband as well as the newest member of the family with a smile plastered wide on her face, life was indeed beautiful.

The next day, both Sukuna and y/n were waiting for Yuuji to finish school, since y/n had the day off. Sukuna had his arm protectively around her because this time, others were staring at what was his, but he was proud to show her off to everyone, even in a place as mundane as his son's daycare.

[fiannans]

Something Blue (Mass Effect, Shakarian)

Title: Something Blue Fandom: Mass Effect Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 1,018 Rating: E (Explicit) Pairing: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian Summary: Shepard has a few surprises for Garrus on their wedding night.

Read on AO3.

The reception was finally starting to wind down when Shepard and Garrus made their excuses—greeted with much good-natured teasing by their friends—and retreated to the privacy of the honeymoon suite.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Shepard made a beeline for the enormous, turian-sized bed that dominated the main room. The luxuriously soft mattress sank beneath her weight as she lowered herself onto the end of the bed gratefully and slipped off her heels. Wiggling her cramped toes, she sighed in relief.

Garrus watched as she leaned back and stretched her arms over her head, his eyes filled with tenderness and affection. The slender gold band on his left wrist gleamed in the warm light of the lamps scattered around the room. Shepard touched the matching band on her ring finger, turning it slowly. Warmth spread through her chest and her eyes pricked with tears as she recalled the words etched in neat, cursive script on the inside of both bands. A memory and a promise for the future.

No Shepard Without Vakarian.

“How are you feeling?” Garrus asked.

“Tired,” she exhaled, closing her eyes, before looking up at him with a smile. “But happy.”

“Not too tired, I hope,” he said, giving her a meaningful look.

“Oh?” She tilted her head to the side, her voice light and teasing. “Did you have something else planned for tonight?”

With a mock growl of impatience at her attempt to play coy, he tugged her to her feet. Pulling her body flush against his so that her breasts pressed firmly against the hard surface of his carapace, he murmured in her ear.

“What do you think?”

A shiver ran down her spine and her nipples hardened in anticipation at the unspoken promise in his question. She was saved from having to try to formulate a reply by him changing the subject.

“Have I told you how much I love this dress?” he asked, fingers drifting across the bare skin of her back and leaving goosebumps in their wake. One hand slid over the curve of her ass and gripped her buttock, squeezing it firmly through the silk.

“You may have mentioned it once or twice today, yeah,” she replied, a little breathlessly.

“Well, I do,” he said, subvocals rumbling so low it almost sounded like he was purring as he nuzzled the side of her throat and nipped gently at the skin below her ear. “But I think I prefer you out of it…”

He slipped his talons under the thin spaghetti straps of her dress and eased them over her shoulders. Without anything to hold it up, the smooth silk slithered down her body like water and pooled at her feet, leaving her standing before him in nothing but a lacy blue g-string.

His brow plates lifted in surprise at the sight.

“It’s an old human wedding tradition from Earth,” she explained, feeling herself blush under his curious stare. “Kasumi told me about it. Wearing something blue on your wedding day is supposed to bring good luck.”

“Nice,” he said.

“I figured a little extra luck couldn’t hurt. Besides…” she smirked at him, “I’m fond of the colour blue.”

“It suits you,” he told her with a chuckle, running the tip of his talon along the waistband of the garment in question. “You should wear it more often.”

Crouching, he hooked two fingers under the sides of her underwear and pulled it down, inhaling sharply when he revealed her bare cunt. Normally Shepard went for a more natural look, only giving her pubic hair a trim now and then to keep it neat, but since it was a special occasion, she’d decided to shave it all off for something different and surprise him. Judging by the expression on his face, it had worked.

“Another human tradition?” he asked, voice a little unsteady.

“Something like that,” she said, suddenly nervous. “Do you like it?”

“I’m not sure,” he said, “I think I need to test it out first.” And he leaned forward and traced the tip of his pointed tongue lightly between the lips of her pussy, flicking it over her clit.

Shepard hissed and grabbed his shoulder to steady herself when her legs threatened to give out at the feel of his tongue on her hypersensitive skin. With the hair gone, every touch and sensation seemed heightened. She was already dripping wet and Garrus hummed with pleasure when he teased her folds apart gently with his talons so he could taste her properly. He lapped at her cunt, nose bumping against her clit, then dipped the very tip of his tongue into her entrance, making her gasp.

She continued to lean heavily on him, legs trembling, as he pulled his tongue out and then pushed it back inside her, deeper this time. With his hands on her knees, he urged her to spread her legs wider to give him better access. His long, flexible tongue slid in and out of her easily, fucking her with a skill and expertise no human tongue could ever match.

When he added one finger, blunted talon easing into her carefully, that was it. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she came, shuddering. Garrus held her up, letting her ride out her orgasm before he scooped her up, carrying her easily to the bed.

He laid her down on the cool, crisp sheets and quickly shed his suit before stretching out naked on the bed beside her, looking smug. Shepard turned her head to smile at him, her heart rate and breathing gradually returning to normal.

“So,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “What’s the verdict, Mr Shepard-Vakarian?”

“Hmm,” Garrus said thoughtfully, pretending to think it over. “I don’t know, Mrs Shepard-Vakarian.” His mandibles twitched and he shot her a wicked look that sent a fresh jolt of desire through her. He moved down her body, nudging her legs apart so he could lean down between them, and very slowly and deliberately breathed over her wet cunt, making her gasp.

“I should probably do some more research before I decide.”

[spectresbase]

Naughty November Day 16 + 18

Belated up load of some tweetfics. Forgot about Thankgiving when doing my math, so ended up merging a few days together. These combined themes were: Corruption - Business People - High Heels - Religious - Redhead - Muscles Enjoy the preview and read the rest below: Pulling her mouth off his cock with a sloppy *POP* Miranda arched her back, bending backwards to grab her own heels as she thrust her chest towards him. Just in time! Cum erupted from his head, ropy strands arcing out to splash in sticky ribbons squarely between her breasts.

Battles between cults were hardly uncommon, but rarely were they fought like this. Disguised, Xenerah let the enemy acolyte she'd been fucking slump in exhausted defeat and checked her people's progress. Her satisfied smile glistened with cum. Another temple had been converted.

Locked out of the fun but not out of earshot because Allura, the bitch, had left her mic on the whole time, Mira was in a state. By the time 626 returned to the ship, she was face down on the couch, fingers blasting her soaked twatt in a futile attempt to sate her need.

Linda was the UNSC's top scout, but even the best could get unlucky. Her bad luck dropped her right in the middle of a gang of naked Brutes. Killing them would be loud and alert the enemy. And it was shame to let those massive cocks go to waste. She'd subdue them another way.

Not everybody would like a lover able to lift not only them, but them and the bench they were sitting on. Ben wasn't most people. Looma curled the wooden platform, each set bringing Ben and his dick up into kissing or sucking range. Most fun Ben had ever had working out!

What started as a simple dare has spiraled into something Aether neither knows how to control, nor has any desire to. His addiction to cock has led to him deepthroating anybody who asks, caring more about getting to gag on their salty cum than he did about even his own reputation.

The bet was simple: If Lina made it across the bar in ballet heels, the bar cleared her tab.

If she overestimated her balance though and fell, she had to finish her walk on all fours, subjected to catcalls and insults. Considering how wet the idea made her, she won either way.

The ink hadn't even dried on the contract before Bruce Wayne had Emma Frost up on his desk, ripping her shirt open to nip at the slope of her breasts while she worked his belt free. Their sex was raw, aggressive and selfish. Just like the negotiations had been.

Mara's red gold hair fell in a curtain around Prelan's face, blocking out all but her as she leaned down to kiss him. Her hips ground against his in the slow, supremely self satisfied rolls of a woman coming down from a mighty climax and eager to enjoy every last aftershock.

You'd been a loyal cleric for over a decade. A stalwart servant of your god who'd taken pride in your faith. And all it took for you to abandon that faith was the slap of Remiel's divine shaft as it landed atop your upturned face. You were his long before he entered you.

When Spartan-058 failed to report in, a team was sent to find her. What they found instead was discarded Mjolnir armor, and a helmet recording showing the snipers not so slow decent into a Brute cock slut, culminating in her bathing in a shower of cum as she renounced the UNSC.

Heels weren't a common sight among Quarian culture, and it took Tali a little while to get the hang of walking in them. Shepard's reaction when she strutted into his cabin though made every embarrassing trip and fall more than worth it.

His cum soon sprinkled the boots.

With Lilo away at camp for a few weeks, Nani had to find something to occupy Stitch's time or else he'd do nothing fuck her stupid.

Maybe she could use that.

Counting the cash, she smirked as Kalani screamed and squirted all over the van's floor. Another satisfied costumer.

She was adept at countless interrogation techniques, yet you were fairly certain that the slow crushing of your head between Natasha's thighs had a lot less to do with getting information than it did with the heat you felt growing against the back of your neck.

When they'd started spitroasting her, all Cass was thinking about was escape. As climax after climax wore away at her self control though, she started to think less of freedom, and more of just what she could do to keep this Nightkin hard until Six eventually 'saved' her.

The buisnessman who'd hired her for the night hadn't so much as touched Mercy. Not even a finger. They'd been too busy emptying his balls into her high heels. Now, as she tipped the shoe back to drink her the creamy load, his fingers started to stroke anew.

Sue stripping out of the elegant gown and designer bra without stumbling in her heels was the second most impressive thing Johnny had seen that night.

The first was the way she was balancing on just one of those heels as she fucked him in a standing splits against the door.

Going undercover as a Nun brought back memories of just how repressed life in a convent could make a girl. Leia Mayson'd never been quite this horny, but there'd been times she hadn't been far off from the trio of sisters all eagerly slurping their way along her massive cock.

After admiring each other's muscles in the Gym, it wasn't long before She-Hulk and Thor took their admiring glances back to the bedroom for a different kind of workout.

Floors cracked and walks splintered under the power of their combined lust. The hotel sued for damages.

It hadn't been a direct path, or an immediate one, but by the time Shepard's coup put him in the Illusive Man's chair, the hero the galaxy knew was gone.

Two fingers in Miranda's cunt, he reviewed the report she held while a collared Maya Brooks and Aria licked his cock clean.

[prettylightsbigcity]

Day 11 - Family

Dec 5, 2021 Simon, Baz, Shep, Penny, Niamh, & Agatha head home after a night out dancing. Post-AWTWB. Rated T for mild references to drinking. Read below or over on ao3.

***

Simon

We stumble to the tube platform, draping our arms over each other’s shoulders, giggling about nothing and shushing each other more loudly than we were laughing in the first place. At some point, Agatha announces that she’s “absolutely fucking finished” with her high heels, and plops down on the kerb to unbuckle them and take them off. Penny tries to convince her that she can’t walk eight more blocks barefoot, but Agatha is determined. The two of them going head to head is frankly terrifying, but thankfully Niamh steps in and diffuses the whole situation by offering Agatha a piggyback ride. Agatha hops up gamely, her tiny skirt riding up a little further than I think she’d prefer. Baz steps in smoothly, taking off his blazer and draping it over Agatha’s shoulders like a cape. He winks at me and leans in close as he whispers in my ear.

“Can’t have your eyes wandering to anyone except me tonight, Snow.”

“As if,” I snort, rolling my eyes and snaking my arm around his waist.

We walk a few more blocks before Shepard declares that we need a break, and almost everyone agrees immediately. Shep leads us all into a McDonald’s like the Pied Piper, and we order a truly staggering number of burgers, milkshakes, and chips. We crowd around one long table. There aren’t quite enough seats, so Shep pulls Penny down on his lap, and Baz stands behind my chair, leaning down and twining his arms around my neck as he rests his head against mine. I can smell the rum on his breath. When our order is called, Niamh and I head up to the counter to collect the trays and bring them back to everyone else. We fall on the food like hungry wolves; even Agatha is stuffing her face, a blob of ketchup dripping onto her chin. It cracks me up.

“Aggie,” I chuckle, “you’ve got a little something, right there,” I say, indicating my chin. 

“What?” she asks, snatching a napkin and wiping at completely the wrong spot. 

“C’mere, gorgeous,” Niamh tells her, grabbing her jaw between her thumb and forefinger. 

We all groan as Niamh leans over and licks Agatha’s chin. Penny chucks a straw wrapper at them, and we all join in, balling up napkins and flinging little packets of condiments at the two of them. Niamh looks ready to give in, but then Agatha grabs her around the neck and snogs her senseless, raising her other hand to give us all the middle finger. Her nails are red and sparkly. 

 Baz

The staff at the McDonald’s ask us to leave. They’re polite about it, but there’s no doubt that they’re fed up with us. I can’t blame them; we’re all three sheets to the wind, and at one point, Shepard started singing at the top of his lungs and tried to stand on a table. We pulled him down, but still… it wasn’t his finest moment. 

It’s two more blocks to the train, and Niamh is getting quite red in the face carrying Agatha. I squeeze Simon’s hand and then release it, sidling over to them. 

“I’m tapping in,” I whisper to Niamh.

She looks like she might argue for a moment, but then she nods and stops stumbling along the sidewalk. 

“Let go, Ags,” she says, and Agatha, who seems to be nearly asleep, releases her grip from around Niamh’s neck.

I’m ready for her, and I catch her in my arms as she slides off of Niamh’s back like a wet noodle. Unfortunately, she still had my blazer draped around her shoulders, and it slips off and tumbles to the ground. Niamh reaches down to grab it, and I nod my thanks. I hoist Agatha up, getting a better grip under her knees and shifting her so her head falls against my shoulder. Niamh drapes the blazer over her sleepy girlfriend.

“Thanks, Basil,” she says quietly.

“Don’t mention it,” I reply, “now, let’s catch up to the rest of these ruffians.”

I stride forward quickly; Agatha’s weight is hardly a hindrance for me. Niamh falls into step beside me. 

 Simon

We decided to go back to Shep and Penny’s flat, partially because it’s the least number of tube stops, but also because they have the most space. When we get there, Shep can’t get the key in the door, and we’re all piled up in the hallway, trying not to fall into another laughing fit. “Open sesame!” Penny declares dramatically, and the door flies away from Shep’s blundering fingers and smacks against the wall inside. 

“Oops,” she giggles, and Shep rolls his eyes.

“Baby, I thought we said no drunken spellwork,” he says, stepping into the flat and inspecting the wall for damage.

“Pssssshhh,” Penny says eloquently, following him inside and waving her hand for the rest of us to follow. 

We all tumble into the familiar living room. I shrug out of my jacket, plonk myself onto the sofa, and tug Baz down too, half on top of me. I sneak my hands under his shirt as he tries to wiggle away, pinning him close to me. He sighs and relents, slumping down and nuzzling his cold nose against my ear. 

“Babe, can you let my wings out?” I whine.

“Get Bunce to do it,” Baz murmurs against my neck, distracting me with tiny kisses.

“Penny!” I yell.

“What?” she screams from the kitchen.

“Crowley, I hope you lot put up silencing spells on this flat,” Niamh says, dropping down on the other end of the sofa.

“Agatha asleep?” Baz asks.

“Yeah,” Niamh nods, “she’s in the spare room. Sorry, that means you two are stuck with the couch.”

I shrug; Baz groans. Penny storms into the living room with a tray of tea in her hands.

“Simon!” she squawks, “why were you calling me?”

I pause.

Why was I calling Penny?

“Wings,” Baz whispers helpfully. 

“Oh yeah! Can you let my wings out?” I ask.

Penny finishes setting down the tray on the coffee table. She marches over to a bookcase, frowns, and turns round to walk in the other direction.

“Looking for something?” Shep asks, appearing in the doorway with Penny’s little black handbag dangling off of one finger.

“Brilliant!” Penny cries, snatching the bag.

“Woah there, not so fast,” Shep retorts, grabbing her around the waist as she tries to make her way back to the sofa, “what did we say about casting while intoxicated?”

“S’barely casting,” I protest, and Shep relents, letting Penny pull him over to the overstuffed armchair in the corner. 

He sits, and Penny promptly deposits herself on his lap, opening her handbag and digging through it like a woman possessed. A compact goes flying in one direction, her glasses case in another.

“Snow’s right,” Baz pipes up, lifting his face from where it had been resting against my collarbone, “she already did all the difficult magick; now she just has to ring the bell to undo it.”

“Aha!” Penny exclaims triumphantly. 

She pulls a little silver bell from her bag and holds it out in front of her.

“Wait—” Shep starts, but it’s too late.

Pen rings the bell, and my wings explode into existence, tearing through my t-shirt and knocking everything off the end table next to the sofa.

“Oops,” Penny and I say in unison. 

Niamh starts laughing so hard that she snorts, and once Baz joins in, I’m a goner. A moment later, all five of us are all howling, holding onto our aching sides as tears run down our faces.

“What in Merlin’s name…?” 

Agatha is standing in the doorway, wearing Niamh’s flannel and rubbing her eyes as she glares at us all. Penny takes one look at her and cracks up all over again, and the rest of us can’t help but follow suit. Even Aggie joins in. 

“You’re all completely mental,” she grouses, but she’s chuckling as she comes over and sits on the rug at Niamh’s feet, laying her head in her lap. 

These are the best kind of nights, I think as my face starts to hurt from all the smiling, this is my family.

[allisondraste]

Cockroaches and Other Things That Just Keep On Living

Fandom: Mass Effect

Ship: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian

Word Count: 4019

Summary: It's only been two weeks since the Reaper War ended, and the Alliance is already trying to bury Shepard.

[Click Here for A03]

Two weeks.  It had only been two weeks since the war ended, since that devastating flash of red light burst from the Citadel and bounced off every active relay in the galaxy, since the Reapers fell dead in space and the Normandy crash landed on some tropical little human colony world just on the edge of the Terminus Systems.  It had just been two weeks, but the Alliance and the rest of the whole damn galaxy were already willing to declare Shepard dead.  And to add insult to injury, they’d  given Garrus the great honor and privilege of hanging her name up on a memorial wall in some trite ceremony to make the crew feel better.

“There isn’t anyone who could’ve been at the epicenter of that blast and survived,” Hackett had explained, far too matter-of-factly. “It’s time for us to move forward.”

“Shepard isn’t just anyone,” Garrus had replied, and then promptly told the admiral where to shove his plaque. It was not his finest moment.

Now, he sat in the mess hall, alone and staring down at the dextro-amino rations he’d barely touched. The bastardized version of some overly seasoned human dish would have been unappetizing even if he had an appetite. But he didn’t.  Something about the person he loved being declared dead left a sour taste in his mouth.  He’d only even tried to eat because Liara insisted, and he wasn’t in the mood for another well meant lecture about taking care of himself.

No longer willing to bother, he shoved the plate away from him with the back of his hand, and looked up in just enough time to catch Williams walk past him.  She stopped, performed a proper about-face and marched up to his table.

“Hey,” Ash greeted him like she’d never spoken to him before in her life.

“Hey,” Garrus replied and watched as she shifted uncomfortably and darted her eyes around the entire room before meeting his gaze.

She motioned to an empty seat across the table from him. “Can I— I mean, do you want some company? You just look—”

“Like I’m one news vid about the ‘late’ Commander Shepard away from going postal?” He let out a derisive snort. “Yeah.”

Williams smirked and  eased herself down onto the bench without waiting for him to agree to her company. “I was going to say ‘like shit,’ but that works too.”

He answered her dryly. “Gee. Thanks.”

There was a pause in conversation, then Ash tilted her head in that sympathetic way every human who knew him seemed to do since Earth. “Seriously though… how are you holding up?”

I’m not , Garrus thought, but the words didn’t make it to his mouth, just sarcasm.. “Didn’t realize you cared… or is this just one of those human things where you pretend to care for my benefit?”

She leaned back and raised an eyebrow. “Do I seem like the kind of person who pretends to do anything for anyone’s benefit, especially yours?”

He laughed. “Fair.”

“Listen, this is off the record but… Hackett had that mouthful coming.” She laughed and shook her head. “I’m just glad it was you that said it and not me because, well, I like my job.”

If anyone had told Garrus that one day, he’d have a heart-to-heart with the human woman who’d spent their entire first mission together shooting daggers at him from across Normandy’s shuttle bay, he’d have said they were crazy.  But there they were, raw from the absence of someone who meant so much to the both of them.

“It’s been two weeks,” he muttered, looking down at his hands. “ Two. They haven’t even found her bod—“ he tried and failed to choke back the lump in his throat,  but continued talking anyway, glancing up at her— “It’s too damn soon, Ash.”

“I know,” came her firm reply as she reached across the table.  She hesitated for a split second, but then let her hand fall on top of his.  Deep brown eyes welled up with tears that she tried to blink away.  She let out a frustrated huff as one rolled down her cheek anyway, then cleared her throat.  “ Damn. Pretend this isn’t happening.” “Pretend what isn’t happening, Williams?”

“Perfect,” she remarked, wiping her face with the heel of her free hand and laughing. “Kind of hard to believe it’s only been three years since we tracked down Saren.  Feels like a lifetime ago.”

“And look at us now, being mostly civil,” he said with a sigh, staring down at Ash’s hand.  Alien as it was, it reminded him of Shepard’s, strong to be as small as it was, with too many fingers.  He recalled the many times those fingers had traced the hard edges of his face, how that hand had fit so comfortably into his (after a few clumsy attempts, of course).  He’d take another missile to the face to hold it again.

“You know, Shepard worked her ass off to convince me it’d be fine having aliens on board an Alliance vessel,” Ash observed playfully, pulling him from his thoughts.

“You? Paranoid over a handful of non-humans? I’m shocked .”

“Nothing personal,” she explained,“Just didn’t feel comfortable sharing a station with a guy whose grandpa probably shot at mine during the War.”

“Hate to break it to you but—” he leaned back in his seat— “My grandfather was just a run of the mill C-Sec officer.  All he would have done was write your grandfather a nasty citation. ‘Being human in Citadel space,’ used to be a finable offense.”

“God,” she said with another laugh, “Back then, I rolled my eyes and told Shepard I’d do whatever she wanted me to do. ‘You tell me to jump, I ask how high.  You tell me to kiss a turian, I’ll ask which cheek.’”

“We don’t really have cheeks,” Garrus corrected, laughing when Ash shot him a pointed look, “But that’s beside the point.  I’m guessing Shepard never followed through with that order.”

“No, she told me, and I quote, ‘Nobody’s going to be kissing any turians on this mission, Ash,’” she said in her best Shepard impression, then muttered, “Fucking liar.”

“Well, to her credit, I don’t think she planned on me being so… irresistable.”

Ash snorted and rolled her eyes. “Okay, ladykiller .”

There was another pause in conversation, and her expression fell.  She looked down to where her hand still lay on his. “Back then, I just assumed you’d jump ship as soon as things got rocky, as soon as we— as Shepard — really needed you, but…” She trailed off, grip tightening around his hand.  “You never let her down, not once.  Not even when I—”

“You didn’t let her down, Ash,” he argued, sensing where she was headed, “She never thought that.”

“Yeah, well I do,” she snapped, words clipped, “I should have seen the signs that Cerberus had her pinned down, but I let my ego get in the way.  I’m surprised she wanted anything to do with me after that.”

“You’re not the only one who has ever screwed up trying to do the right thing,” he reassured her, “Shepard, of all people, understood that.”

“That’s… you’re probably right,” she nodded and looked up at him, “Thanks. And for whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Uh, sorry for what?”

“For ever believing you weren’t an important part of the crew,” she stated seriously, then smiled, “And for calling you birdbrain  behind your back.”

Garrus’ mandibles flared in amusement, and he gave her hand a few friendly pats. “No harm done,” he said, then paused for a beat, “Besides, you didn’t hear what I said behind your back.”

One of her eyebrows shot up. “You talked shit about me?”

“So much.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute,” shouted a familiar voice from across the mess, causing them both to snap their heads toward the sound. “Somebody get this heartwarming moment on camera.”

Ash stiffened, retracting her hand quickly and stuffing it under the table. “Joker.”

“Hey, Joker.” Garrus waved. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” he answered, words pointed. “You know, aside from the soul-crushing agony of my girlfriend dying. ”

Garrus had spent enough time around humans to know that the Flight Lieutenant looked rough, even for someone who’d never cared about keeping up appearances.  His eyes were red, the skin underneath dark enough that even the shadow cast from his hat couldn’t disguise the lack of sleep. He made his way unsteadily to the table and sat down next to Williams.

Garrus opened his mouth, preparing to speak, to express sympathy, but Joker cut him off. “And before you start with any of that ‘I understand how you feel’ crap— no you don’t.  Everyone knows you can’t say Shepard’s dead until we’ve ID’d the body.  Maybe not even then. She just keeps living… like a cockroach. ”

“You know you could just say, ‘I’m not doing so hot,” right?” Ash scolded him,  but there was still a softness to her voice. “You don’t have to be an ass about it.”

“Yeah, but see… being an ass is way more my style.”

The table went completely quiet as Joker crossed his arms over his chest and scowled, tension palpable enough it might as well have had mass.  Not one for tolerating awkward silences, Garrus ventured a question. “What the hell is a cockroach?”

Ash smiled, clearly thankful for the change in subject, and began to explain. “They’re these—“

“ Beetles ,” Joker cut her off, “Big, disgusting ones that are supposed to be able to survive extreme conditions other organics can’t.”

“Sounds about right,” Garrus admitted with a shrug.

The pilot flinched and glared at him. “Wait. I called Shepard a disgusting beetle and you’re just okay with that?”

“Are you kidding? Why wouldn’t I be,” he asked sarcastically, “It actually explains why she kept molting. ”

“You’re having fun. Stop it,” Joker whined, scowl deepening, “Stop having fun!”

Garrus laughed and threw his hands up in surrender. “This isn’t exactly my idea of fun. My cockroach is missing.”

Joking though he was, his words were honest, something Joker must have detected.  His expression softened even as he puffed his chest out. He deflated immediately as another familiar voice called out, likely interrupting whatever barrage of barbs he’d prepared to hurl at Garrus. This time, it was Vega who strutted over to the table carrying an entire fifth of some sort of human liquor.  Cortez trailed solemnly behind him, examining the rectangular objects in his hands.

“Yo, don’t tell me the party started without us,” shouted Vega, setting the alcohol down on the table with a loud clank , pointing a thumb back at Cortez, “Esteban here took forever polishing the name plaques.”

Garrus stiffened at the mention of the plaques, knowing full and well there had been one commissioned with Shepard’s name on it despite all his protests. Turned out, the Alliance brass didn’t give a damn about some loud mouth former C-Sec officer or his feelings after all. He just hoped none of the humans were able to read the pain in his expression— a hope that was in vain if the sympathetic glance Cortez gave him was any indication.

“What’s that for?” Ashley pointed to the bottle of amber liquid Vega sat on the table.

“What do you think,” Vega asked, as if his intentions should have been completely clear, “I’m going to pour one out for the commander.”

“All over the Normandy's floor?” She raised her brows at him.

“Nah.” He gave her a dismissive wave. “Just down the sink or somethin’.”

She picked the bottle up and examined the label more closely. “But…this is expensive stuff, James.”

“Don’t care,” came Vega’s indignant response, “It’s for Lola.”

Ashley gave him a solemn nod, seeming to understand whatever peculiar human tradition he was planning to perform. Satisfied, Vega turned his attention to Joker, snagging his cap, flipping it around, and placing it down on his head backwards. Joker cursed and grumbled, calling Vega a bully among other things, but Vega just smiled and walked over to Garrus, giving him a supportive clap on the shoulder.

Slowly, the rest of the crew began to filter in, each with their own expressions of concern.  Traynor and Tali arrived together, deep in conversation if the emphatic hand gestures were any indication.  They both quieted as they arrived at the table, Traynor frowning and bowing her head, whileTali approached and slid comfortably  into the seat next to Garrus.

She looked down at the uneaten food and back up at him, giving him a nudge with her elbow and complaining. “You are wasting all of the good dextro rations.”

“Good? Oh, come on,  we both know it’s garbage.”

“Well… yes, but it’s digestible garbage,” she said, holding a finger up to make her point.  Her voice softened when she continued. “And you’ve hardly eaten anything the past few days.”

He sighed and looked down at the rations. “Yeah.”

Tali observed him for a second, eyes glowing behind her helmet. She then grabbed his plate and slid it toward him. “Eat up, Vakarian. Or else I will have to feed you myself… with a spoon I am pretending is the Normandy.”

Garrus let out a laugh despite himself. “I don’t think that’ll work, Tali.”

“You don’t know that.  You haven’t heard my engine noises.”  She laughed along with him for a few seconds, then grew quiet once again and gave him a gentle pat on the back. “The Alliance is going to feel very silly when Shepard gets back and they have to explain why they hung her name up on the wall and sold her hamster.”

“ If she makes it back this time.”

“She will,” Tali asserted, voice cracking, “She has to.”

It was Javik who entered next, voice booming in a debate with Liara, who had taken it upon herself to explain human customs for memorializing the dead. He shook his head and ignored her entirely, stating that if he wished for a history lesson, he would ask for one.  He then snapped his many-eyed gaze to Garrus.

“You should not be saddened about Shepard’s fate, Garrus.  She died with great honor.”

Liara let out an exasperated sigh, and sat down in one of the empty seats at the next table over, bringing her hand to her face.

“What is it, asari?” Javik snapped, “Honor in death is something turians hold in high regard, is it not? This should be a great comfort to him.”

“Perhaps with time,” Liara explained,”But right now it is… insensitive.”

“It’s nothing my dad hasn’t already told me a dozen times,” Garrus stated flatly, “I appreciate the sentiment.”

Weird that a fifty-thousand year-old Prothean reminded him of his dad.  Then again, Castis Vakarian was as about as traditional as turians came, and they butted heads on almost every subject, including but not limited to: Garrus’ disregard for rules, his decision to leave C-Sec—twice, his “risk- and attention-seeking” behavior, and his “absurd infatuation with a human woman”. Their relationship had always been strained, to say the least. Still, he had always been there when Garrus needed him, and listened when it mattered. He was the first call Garrus made from the medbay after the Reapers were destroyed, when he realized Shepard might not be coming back.

He’d been sympathetic, but not even remotely comforting, not unlike Javik was at present. Garrus just didn’t have it in him to explain to either how little he cared about the honorable nature of her sacrifice, the high esteem the galaxy now held her in, or the way history would remember her. None of that mattered when she wasn’t at his side.  How could he be proud, when all he felt was empty?

Once all parties arrived and settled in, the group spent time talking and sharing memories. The Alliance crew members all told stories about encounters with Admiral Anderson, how he more often felt like a parent than a commanding officer, and how his reputation was so much larger than his ego. Traynor did most of the talking about EDI, their friendship, and how seamlessly she’d fit into the crew, how easy it had been to forget she was an AI. Joker just pulled the bill of his cap down to cover his eyes.  Then, the reminiscence moved to the commander.

Every single person present had a story about Shepard, about how she went above and beyond the call of duty to help them, and to make sure they were taken care of while aboard the Normandy.  Shepard had always taken time to check in with the people who worked for her, even when the galaxy was falling apart and herself along with it.  She was a good leader, arguably the best, and an even better friend.  It was clear that everyone in the room admired her, and that she was missed.

Garrus knew he should say something, tell one of the many stories of the trouble he and Shepard had gotten into together. The others all watched him expectantly as he scrambled for words.

“I—“ he began, but was interrupted by the buzzing of his omni-tool, followed by several bright flashes of light. He cursed and pulled up the interface to silence the damn thing.  An urgent message alert flashed on his screen, and he tapped the icon to open it.

From: Dr. Chloe Michel

Subject: Jane Doe

Dear Garrus,

I hope this email reaches you, and that you are still alive to read it.  I am on the Citadel working with an emergency medical unit out of what is left of  Huerta Memorial. The blast from the Crucible caused some severe structural damage near the epicenter, and we have been searching the area to find and identify survivors and remains.

There is a Jane Doe here, who I believe you might know. Please contact me on a private channel whenever you are able.

Take Care,

Chloe

His heart sank like lead into his gut as he read what could only be a request to come in and identify a corpse.  The space around him was suddenly too full, too loud, and the curious eyes of his companions lingered on him for far longer than comfortable. He tapped the display on his omni-tool once again to close it, glancing around the room from one set of eyes to another.

“It’s nothing,” he lied. The truth would only cause unnecessary alarm he wasn’t equipped to handle at the moment.  He stood abruptly, a jolt of pain coursing through his leg that was still recovering from a fracture, and excused himself. “Just need to make a quick call.”

“Now,” Liara asked, frowning, “But the memorial ceremony was just about to begin.”

“So start without me,” he snapped and made his way to the main battery.  He’d apologize later, when his world wasn’t caving in.

The battery doors shut behind him with a familiar hiss and he sank down into his seat next to the workbench where his favorite rifle lay surrounded by tools and unused thermal clips. It had taken a beating in the battle on Earth, and Garrus had poured over repairing it in the days following its end.  He hadn’t touched it since.  There were no more enemies to fight, and the gun just reminded him of Shepard.

Bringing up his omni-tool once again, Garrus established a link using the information Michel provided him.  He only waited a second or two before a voice on the other end picked up.

“Garrus,” exclaimed the woman, “I am so glad you received my message.”

“About that Jane Doe,” he began, cutting straight to the chase, “I— do you need me to identify the b— her ?”

“No… it is Commander Shepard,” she explained, “I am absolutely certain.”

“ Oh, ” Garrus said with the breath he’d been holding.  He was glad he was already sitting down, as the last shreds of hope he’d been clinging to slipped from his grasp leaving him dizzy and sick.  It was Shepard.  She was dead. There was nothing to be done about it.

He took a minute to collect himself and his thoughts, cleared his throat and told the doctor, “I, uh…I’m not really sure how to— I mean, I guess I should make funeral arrangements. That’d be better than letting the Alliance—“

“Garrus,” Michel interjected firmly, “She’s alive.”

“ What,” he asked, more loudly than he’d intended.  Hoping nobody had overheard outside, he lowered his voice and continued, “I mean, how is she? What’s her condition? Is she going to—”

“I won’t lie to you,” the doctor interrupted again, “Her injuries are serious, and she has been comatose since we found her.  Still, her vitals are strong and stable at present. She is a fighter.”

“She is.”

The line was silent for a beat then Michel spoke up again.  “I had a wonder… Shepard’s body has, ehm… extensive cybernetic modification. More extensive than I have seen. We are not certain how, or if it is even possible to repair all of the damage.”

One name came immediately to mind. “Miranda Lawson.”

“Pardon?”

“You need to contact Miranda Lawson,” Garrus clarified,  “She is an ex-Cerberus operative, the scientist responsible for Shepard’s upgrades. And a friend. She will be able to help. I can send you her contact information.”

“Good, yes. I will contact her immediately,” Michel replied, relief noticeable in her voice. She then sighed and said, “I apologize for sending such a vague email.  I am realizing now that it was likely… anxiety provoking. I simply did not wish for the wrong people to find out about Shepard’s survival.”

Garrus huffed, “Yeah, if the media caught wind of this, it’d be a circus.”

“That is what I feared,” she agreed with a sigh, “Besides, I thought you should be the first to see her. I know she is important to you.”

“Thank you, doc. For everything.”

“It is the very least I can do.  I owe my life to the both of you. Twice over, now it would seem:”

“I’ll get to the Citadel as soon as I can.”

“Talk to you then.”

The call ended with a beep and Garrus shut off his omni-tool display, staring blankly at the wall on the opposite side of the room for several minutes, attempting to recover from the emotional whiplash the last half hour had given him.  He took a deep breath, rose to his feet, and headed back out to the mess hall.

All eyes turned to him as he made his way toward the memorial wall just outside the elevator.  EDI’s and Anderson’s names had already been placed, tears already shed. Now they looked to Garrus, Cortez approaching with the name plaque meant to commemorate Shepard’s death. He took the polished silver plate and examined it, light glinting off its corners as he stepped up to the wall.  For a long moment he traced the letters of a name that had come to mean so much to him, to those crowded in the narrow hallway around him, to the hundreds of thousands who’d cheered from ships in the massive fleet she’d rallied and led to victory, and to the billions of lives she’d saved across the galaxy.  Shepard deserved so much more than a name on a wall.

And now, just maybe, she could have it.

Garrus would have preferred to keep  Shepard’s survival to himself, to snag her from the hospital and elope to some secluded tropical paradise where nobody could ask anything of either of them again, except “Would you like a refill on that incredibly alcoholic beverage?” But he knew he couldn’t do that.  After all, he was not the only one who loved her.

Lowering the plaque, he turned to face the others, all of whom looked at him with a mix of confusion and concern.  He glanced down at Shepard’s name again, mandibles flaring out reflexively as relief and excitement swelled in his chest.

“They found her.  They found Shepard,” he told them, bringing his eyes to meet their gazes as he spoke. “She’s alive.”

[fatalfangirl]

Or is it Six Songs Sunday?

I’ve been revamping my Bound and Determined playlist and decided to make a post about that. (I’ll be back to sharing new fic content on Wednesday.) 

Tagging folks before I get started because this will be long! @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @sillyunicorn, @mostlymaudlin, @captain-aralias, @moodandmist, @martsonmars, @facewithoutheart, @whatevertheweather​, and anyone else who has something to share!

Head below the cut to see me ramble on and on about six songs from the playlist. Beware of spoilers. I reference specifics from various chapters published thus far.

Track 1 - Thriving - UPSAHL

I discovered this song recently and goddamn if this ain’t Simon at the start of the fic. Right off the bat, the lines “Don’t know who the fuck you are / Guess I blacked out at the bar,” set the tone for the opening scene of chapter 1. 

The vibe of the tune actually remind me of Kati’s song, and the lyrics overall make me think “Oh Simon, you’re such a mess.” Similar to the chorus, he does feel like he’s dying, although he’s not hysterically crying. 

Track 2 - Vampire - Payday feat. Danny Brown

This song is wild, but I’m obsessed with the Beastie Boys style. I can picture it accompanying Simon’s panic in chapter 2 during the sudden reunion with Baz on the sidewalk:

“What-” I’m gaping. It’s the vampire. Here. In the light of day. Is that allowed? It is overcast.

He looks up with a glare, hand over his nose and flawless eyebrows furrowed. There’s blood dripping in a thin line down his chin. Is that my blood? Is that how it works?

Track 3 - So Like A Rose - Garbage

This song came out 20 years ago. I loved it then, and I love it now. I have always thought it beautifully captures a feeling of being hurt and facing isolation (but also how someone can view it externally with love and empathy). I think it fits initial relationship between Simon and Baz - specifically Simon realizing how alone and broken Baz is. The line from the song “Sleeping with ghosts / It’s such a lonely experience” aligns (to me) with a line from Simon in chapter 4: It’s not fun being lonely. You start to feel unloved. Too much of that and you get twisted up in unpleasant ways. 

Track 4 - Boo! Bitch! - Kim Petras

The Brimstone anthem! In chapter 6 Penelope describes Brimstone as such: 

Brimstone is everything you’d imagine a popular club to be. Crowded with drunk, pretty Normals grinding against each other as one house song bleeds into the next. It’s just gothier.

I knew from day 1 of writing this fic that “Boo! Bitch!” would be the song of the vampire club. Such a vibe. 

Track 5 - Seventeen - Sjowgren

My Shep and Penny song. When I started the fic, I had no idea how much I’d end up delving into Penny and Shepard’s relationship. But I think they add a lot to the larger story. Shepard is constantly challenging Penny in this story on her feelings about vampires and actions toward Simon, but he’s also patient with her and he loves her. The lyrics line up to how he shows that love. “If you want / A second to breathe / I’ll give you all of my love / I’ll give you all that you need”

Track 6 - rom com 2004 - Soccer Mommy

If I had to pick only one song to represent Simon and Baz’s relationship in this fic, “rom com 2004″ would be it. From the lyrics to the way there are these distortions in the sound, everything is just... very them - especially in chapter 8 as they reach new levels of intimacy. A little unstable, more than a little desperate, and very much head over heels. 

Well... if anyone actually went through this, hi. Hello. I appreciate you. Thank you for being interested in this thing that I love. It’s fun.

[thanekrios]

A desert of his own

Summary: Shepard dreams of a dead planet. Irikah tells Kolyat a myth of creation. And Thane sees a desert.

Note: I wrote this many years ago. Posted it here when I was galifreyas, so the original post is lost. This is still up @ my much abandoned AO3.

Let us start with a planet that has been dead for centuries. Let us tell some fictions and some realities about it. It is up to you to believe which ones are true.

What about a woman who dreams of the deserts of Rakhana? Deserts carpeted with purple weeds that are inhabited by silvery lizards she has named the afa’el. In her dreams, the afa’el sing – no, that’s not what they do, the old melodies once sung by burning stars echo in them. Sometimes it sounds like they are humming and others, they appear to be reproducing three songs at once. She watches the ira, cactus-like succulents, glowing in announcement of the dawn of a new season as the cavernous voices of an ancient creature or a sinking sun make their way across the planet, from afa’el to afa’el and finally they reach her. She hears and understands their wordless mellow stories.

They tell her of the Endu, the biggest flower to ever exist in any world, which according to legend had bloomed in an unforgiving desert and was encountered by a group of nomads who sought it as a symbol of Arashu and built the biggest civilization around it.

She learns of how Rakhana came to be. How it was once a frozen egg, drifting away in the Sea of Stars, and how a maiden made of gold nourished it back to life.

The woman, whose name is Shepard, visits the great desert of Alasere religiously. She enjoys standing there, sinking her feet in a golden ocean, listening to the afa’el murmur words in Rakhani long forgotten.

She learns of fihanda, which roughly translates to the guilt a child feels when they recognize dishonesty in their parents or in an older authority figure. There is amuefto, the gift of finding beauty in a person and seeing it reflected in their faces, regardless of their looks. Taverena, an expression of gratitude only used when someone has made a true impact one’s life, making it out of the ordinary. And then, tah-sehe.

“I will miss you, Shepard. Tah-sehe,” had been the last thing she heard from Thane’s lips before he left the Normandy. For a while, she whispered tah-sehe to herself while embracing the mundane. It would fill the room in the form of a silly melody muttered while she watched the rain pour; or as a gurgling sound while she took a shower. It was imprinted on her mind. It isn’t until the afa’el sing morosely about the last chapter in their planet’s history, that she discovers tah-sehe is not a word to be said lightly.

She comes to understand why Thane, who turns the simplest of sentences into splendid verses, had felt it necessary to utter that word – because I will miss you was but a fragment of what he wished to convey. Tah-sehe meant more than to miss someone; it was a profound emotional state of infinite yearning, of not being able to experience life to the fullest, of having lost the most significant part of oneself. The concept originated during the great exodus of the 1980s, as the first generations of drell settled in Kahje carried the name of the tah’sehen, the ones who dwell in what’s lost.

It didn’t matter whether those were dreams weaved by longing. Tah’sehe migrated from her head to her heart.

During the days, as the Vancouver rain attempts to wash away her dreams, she convinces herself that if she can capture at least a fraction of the beauty of the deserts she wanders in and if she can translate it into a form, any form, the dormant planet of Rakhana will be awaken.

For a while, Shepard considers writing about every beast, plant and insect she has come across in her journeys but she has never been one to confuse her desires with her abilities. Writing, just like dancing, does not come naturally to her. And while she is a gifted saxophone player, she was never much of a composer. Yet, she tries.

Thane had caught her once practicing one of her unpolished pieces, one she referred to as “if calluses were a song, this would be it.” He had asked her to play it for him. She knew he’d listen, he’d truly listen, and not just that…he’d remember.

“Ugliness is abundant in this galaxy. Let’s not add up to it.” She said, putting down her sax.

“When you play, I hear a reminder of beauty and laughter and life. What you do is extraordinary, siha. To transform the dreadful slices of the universe, its eruptions and its vast darkness into a stream of ecstatic sounds, a blast of playful rhythms. You create things when there is but destruction around you. There is value in that. I hope you see it someday.”

Encouraged by his words, she composes a few songs that don’t come to even faintly remind her of the fierce and dry winds scattered across the planet. She can’t feel its vibrant colors in her slow and melancholic tunes, as they are permeated by the city she sees through her window and a sky that won’t stop weeping.

That is when she starts making terrariums resembling the deserts she visits. She thinks, if she is ever lucky enough to see Thane again, she’ll hand him a desert of his own. She can still hear him:

“I would much like to see a desert.”

* * *

After Kolyat leaves Huerta Memorial, so does Thane. He sees him walk away in a pristine white hallway and at the same time, a young Kolyat attempts to step on his father’s footprints. He can smell salt and iron and antiseptics and detergent, and hear machines beeping and waves crashing. Kolyat is saying something, he wants to be heard, but what might have been the most important words ever spoken are drowned by the roaring of the sea. He just stares at him and waits for his father to react and after a pause, disappointment is written all over his face. Thane asks him to hurry up and a young Kolyat walks reluctantly towards him, this time ignoring the trail of footprints left by his father.

He wishes his recollections were malleable, he often hears of humans enriching their past with fictions; or of conflicts among them springing from a poor recollection of events. But a drell’s memories are unforgiving –they can, on occasion, overlap with reality–but never be rewritten.

His mind takes him to that same evening, after Kolyat asked him to dance with him but he refused, as he was getting ready to go to work. He doesn’t see blighted hope but despondency in his child. Kolyat still wishes him a pleasant journey, as he always does, and runs to his room. He should have kissed his forehead. He should have made him feel like he was the brightest sun in the Zahel Sea cluster, the most vital spring of energy in his life.

As he is lacing up his shoes, he hears Irikah’s voice. Whenever she puts Kolyat to bed, her voice is soft and gentle. Like most nights, she is telling him a story. Irikah was always the better storyteller. Irikah was always the better everything.

“Now as everybody knows, the Land of Whistling Dunes was the child of a maiden made of gold, whose heart’s one desire was to drink from the Sea of Stars” says Irikah.

“The Milky Way” Kolyat mouths the words as his mother speaks them.

Irikah nods gently before continuing her story:

“The maiden, who shoned in silence in the skies, knew her womb was barren for a blazing flame lived inside of her. She watched the ages pass and her younger sisters descend to the Sea and drink from its starry tides; and one by one, they all bore and gave birth to the Sea’s children. And as eons passed, the children danced around their mothers; and the mothers swayed gently in the Sea.

The maiden, lonely and scorching, continued to long for the Sea’s kiss, until the day all eyes turned to the death of her older sister, whose cries of pain were carried by the waves, scattering them across the galaxy. And with her passing, her children came to perish too. It was then the maiden dove into the Sea of Stars and gulped its darkness greedily, for she desired children of her own.

The waves whipped her mercilessly as punishment for her insolence, tearing her flesh open. But the maiden didn’t yield; she drank until no more fire dripped from her mouth, she drank until the tides had dragged her sisters and nieces and she had swallowed them whole, she drank until the radiant sea was almost pitch-black.”

Irikah pauses. Something is happening.

Thane hears a gasp that doesn’t fit in their house, it doesn’t belong in the past. A horrified gasp. He recognizes the padding of shoe soles brushing against the floor and the sharp rhythmic piercing sounds of heels. There are many of them. Nurses, patients, visitors, doctors. They’re gathering near him. A man raises his voice, demanding everyone to be quiet. Another voice protests, only to be followed by Doctor Michel shushing the crowd and asking someone to turn down their hand terminal’s sound, so everyone can listen to the same thing.

Then, Irikah’s narration comes to him in long, heavy echoes.

He wants to be home as much as he wants to discover what is happening around his body. He can feel reality piercing its way through, the white pristine light of Huerta Memorial filtering through a crack in the wall he always meant to fix. Another voice slides in, distant and resonant, and he can’t make out what it says. He ignores it. He needs to hear the end of Irikah’s tale. That memory must remain unspoiled, uninterrupted. It’s the last story he ever hears her tell.

He hangs onto it; everything else must wait just a little longer.

“The Sea, heartbroken after witnessing the death of so many of his kin, felt conflicted as he desired retribution but didn’t wish to feel emptiness any further. He then presented the maiden with a choice: he would spare her life if she looked after an egg that had lost its guardian centuries ago; and if she was able to give life to a daughter who existed suspended in a shell of ice and yearned to see the light, her crimes would be forgiven. As the maiden accepted his offer, the pale egg rose up out of the sea. She held it tight, keeping it warm until the day it hatched and came to love it. And so, a winged silvery lizard was born. Her name was Rakhana.”

“Reports are coming in from the cities of London, Seoul and Vancouv—“

She is almost done. Let her finish.

“It’s said that Rakhana’s mother could not stand her daughter flying far away from her, for she was terrified that her only companion would abandon her. So Rakhana, who very much loved her mother and wished to make her proud, danced near her despite the sultriness she felt around her. Eventually, her entire body blushed with red desert flowers and her skin blistered and turned hot and dry. The lizard curled up and fell into a deep slumber as her skin turned to soil; and her breath became wind; and from her backbone a mountain range was born; and while she gave life to many, she failed to save them from the maiden’s fire. And so, Rakhana’s body continued dancing around her mother and her mother swayed gen...”

He sees a large group of people gathered a few feet away from where he is sitting. It takes him a moment to put together the pieces of the situation, of what it is being broadcasted through every terminal, of why Doctor Michel is shaking while she buries her face in her hands.

A myth of creation is replaced by news of destruction.

* * *

Thane always enjoyed looking at her fish. Once more, he sees them travel with glee from one side of the tank to the other. He used to feed them whenever she forgot, which was more often than she would care to admit. Half a lifetime ago.

He presses one of his fingertips against the fish tank’s glass and draws small invisible circles. A Thessian Sunfish follows his finger, even when he begins to trace unpredictable shapes. Shepard can’t see his face but she likes to think he’s grinning, greeting his old friends.

From all the stories and words that spun inside her head, tah-sehe is the only one she has felt pounding violently inside her. She wonders, even if she doesn’t know its true meaning, if perhaps there’s a word that encases an opposite feeling, the sensation of her chest being cluttered with emotions; and the impulse she is struggling to oppress, of talking about everything at once, the things she has seen and done and felt. And on the same time, she doesn’t want to talk at all, she wants to reach out and touch and caress and experience.

So, she asks.

“Is there a word in Rakhani for…this? Say…what you feel when you are reunited with someone? Like you with the fish right now.”

Thane turns around slowly; his hands are behind his back. The hint of a smile turns the corners of his mouth.

“I believe the closest word is sehifa. Even though I wouldn’t use it to describe my reunion with the fish. Is there a similar word in human language?”

“I don’t know if there’s a word for it in one of the human languages, but there isn’t one in English. At least the translator didn’t find an equivalent.”

“Ah. I see. Sehifa is a hard concept to condense into a single word. Perhaps it can be defined as the dusk of missing someone. Although it means more than that. It also refers to what you feel and what you do when you are reunited. The emotional closeness that is rekindled. Perhaps even physical intimacy. The warmth you feel in your chest. And what is exchanged. A memento or a present perhaps. Even the stories that your loved one wished to tell you for a long time, when they are finally said out loud and heard by the person who was meant to hear them. How each action or touch is meaningful.”

The dusk of missing someone. That’s it. That’s what it is.

Her cheeks feel warm and her heart full. She smiles the brightest of smiles and starts to laugh. It is a deep, explosive burst of laughter. The sort that seems to pour out like liquid gold to illuminate an entire room.

When Shepard runs out of laughter, she holds his gaze:

“I have something for you. A memento or a present or something of sorts.” She disappears for a couple of seconds and emerges from the bathroom holding something round made of crystal, around the same size as a fishbowl. “Remember what you told me? About creating? It’s funny. All this time I believed all I could ever make were bad songs. But in truth, there were worlds I could create. I can’t really share them with you, not with words at least, so I made a thing. It’s not really finished and it’s not as pretty as what it looked in my dreams but reality rarely pairs up with your expectations, right? I wanted to work on it for a while longer but, after what you just said, I just can’t wait anymore. Here.”

She shakes her head and hands it to him.

Thane holds it up.

It’s a terrarium.

She had created a harmonic ecosystem, filled with lively-colored succulents and cacti, each of them she handpicked herself to resemble the desert of Alasere. She knows that Rakhana will remain arid and dormant; and the worlds that live inside of her aren’t supposed to be more than just dreams. Yet, somehow, Thane is holding a slice of one of them between his hands. One of the things he wished he could see with his own eyes has come to him. In a way, a dream they dreamt of together became real.

He puts the terrarium down with care, next to her terminal, and he reaches over and cups her cheeks with both hands. He calls her by her first name, as he rarely does. He leans down and presses his forehead against hers. He smiles a very rare smile. He is somehow doing it with his entire face. His eyes are deep pools of bliss and warmth and tenderness.

“A desert” he says. She can even hear the smile in his voice.

She nods calmly. He knows Shepard is good at locking her nostalgia away behind more curtains than just her eyelids, but right then, her voice breaks.

“I really wanted you to see that desert, Thane.”

He utters a word in Rakhani used to convey a specific form of gratitude. And while taverena escapes from his lips, Shepard hears him say:

“Thank you for giving me the extraordinary.”