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crowsofdarkness · 2 days ago

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Soldat: Chapter One

-gif not mine. credit to owner-

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Agent! Reader. Slight Steve Rogers x Female Agent! Reader

Content Warnings: language, 18 + implied smut, angst, fluff, kidnapping, violence.

Summary: Agent Y/N has worked alongside Steve Rogers at SHIELD for some time all while keeping a dark secret from everyone. Until one day that darkness faces her head on and she's forced to make a choice. Continue fighting along side Captain America? Or find her home once again with Soldat?

Authors Note: This was originally published on my old blog as a trilogy so I will be in the slow process of adding it to this blog. This is the first of the trilogy and will take place during The Winter Soldier. If anyone is interested in being tagged, let me know!

A soft breeze came through the curtains in my living room as my eyes scanned the same sentence in the book that was placed in my lap. The sentence that I had reread four times now. Closing the book with a groan, I set it on the other end of the couch and grabbed my phone from the coffee table in front of me.

No new messages.

I pocketed my phone while pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. Worry etched in my bones as I realized that I hadn’t heard from Steve in over 48 hours. He never went that long without sending some kind of message back to me. It was supposed to be a simple “save the hostages from a ship in the middle of the ocean. It’ll take a day tops.” Steve words. So here I was, two days later wondering what the hell went wrong.

“Stupid ankle,” I cursed my sprained ankle as it was the reason I couldn’t go on the current mission.

I had tweaked it a few weeks back and Steve wanted to make sure it was 100% before going back in the field. No matter how hard I tried to convince him I was fine, Steve could tell in the small limp that I was lying.

I’d been on Team Captain America for almost a year now, Nick recruiting me because of my background. Three years on New York Swat and almost five as a secret agent for the FBI. There was more to my past, which helped mold me into the agent I was today but that was a part of my life that I kept hidden from everyone, including Steve. There was a time in my life where I was at my lowest and darkest; however, as much as that moment in my life caused me many emotional and permanent scars, I don’t think I would be where I was today.

My finger ran over a small scar on my wrist as I thought back to that time, years ago, and my skin quivered as those memories came back. A dark, cold room with only one bed and the looming fear of when the next time would be when I would see him; would it also be the last time? Would my end be near?

“Christ, I haven’t thought of him in years.” I shuttered, pushing those thoughts away and tried to think of Steve.

In the year that I had been working side by side with him, Steve and I had become incredibly close. Soft touches, hushed conversions just between the two of us, and stares that never went unnoticed. We weren’t official, afraid of it getting in the way of work so we would never make it past first base; hell we never even made it close to first base.

Tired eyes read the clock that hung above the fireplace and a soft sigh left my lips. Calling him would be a waste of time because I knew he never kept his phone on him while on the field, it always stayed on the jet, so I decided to send him a text.

I should have figured it would take you longer than a day without me.-Y/N.

I didn’t even have a chance to set my phone down because a few seconds later it was buzzing and Steve’s face appeared on my screen, indicating he was face timing me.

“Thank god I actually look somewhat decent,” I muttered before hitting the green button, accepting the call.

Steve’s bright smile warmed my heart as I took in his appearance. Soot covered his forehead and chin, his typically styled hair was a mess, almost falling in his eyes as those tired blue eyes stared at me.

“Hi,” I breathed.

“Hey yourself. What time is it there?” Steve questioned.

I looked at the clock before my gaze rested back on Steve. “Just past 6 in the morning. How’d the mission go?”

Steve leaned back in the chair of the jet and ran a hand over his face, unbeknownst to him smearing the soot over his face. I suppressed a giggle, not wanting to let him know.

“You’re cleared to go back on duty. Starting three days ago.”

“I told you! We could have been finished days ago and you wouldn’t have needed me to water your plants.” I joked.

Steve shot up. “You have been watering them, right?”

The seriousness in his voice made me roll my eyes.

“Oh my god, grandpa. Yes, I did water your plants. You know, I forget that you’re 95 years old then you act like that and suddenly it all comes back.” I said with a small smile.

“You love me,” Steve gave me a smug smile.

My heart flipped. You have no idea.

“So when are you going to be back?” I changed the subject.

“The jet is landing at SHIELD in a few hours. I have to do a few errands but then I’m all yours,” the softness in his smile warmed my heart.

“The usual?” I asked.

“I’ve called in the pizza. It should be ready to go by seven.”

“I’ll bring the beers then,” I smiled

Every time we complete a mission, Steve and I would meet at his place for pizza and beers. It had been our tradition for the past year, no one else from the team joining.

Just us.

Steve’s lips moved as he was about to say something but a certain redhead appeared from behind him, coming into view.

“NAT!” I yelled, “I miss you!”

Her smile mirrored my own.

“You are forbidden from ever taking leave again. This one almost forgot his shield.” Natasha pointed at Steve.

“I did not!” He defended.

“Oh Stevie, what would you do without me?” I cooed and noticed his cheeks burned red.

We stared at each other for a few seconds and if feeling some type of tension between us, Nat shook her head before ruffling Steve’s hair.

“You’ve got something on your face.”

Steve looked closer into his phone and I swore, his cheeks were a deep crimson now.

“You let me talk to you like this the entire time?” Steve questioned, quietly thanking Nat who gave him a towel.

I shrugged. “I thought it was a cute look.”

“Maybe if you stopped giving Y/N bedroom eyes, you would have noticed how dirty you were,” Natasha teased.

“Nat!” I scoffed, feeling some warmth spread to my stomach.

“What?” She shrugged, “Someone has to call him out."

Shaking my head with a laugh, I gave them a small wave goodbye and told Steve I would see him later.

I ended the phone call with a sigh and felt excitement spread through my veins as the thought of being alone with Steve kept creeping in the back of my mind.

“Where the hell are you Rogers,” I grumbled as I checked my phone for the fifth time since arriving at his apartment twenty minutes ago.

I had called and texted him wondering when he would be home but was met with silence. My fingers slid over his door frame before peaking under the doormat hoping to find a spare key but nothing.

“You’re damn lucky you’re cute,” I cursed when I checked my phone yet again.

“Talking to yourself?”

Spinning on my heels towards the voice, my heart leaped when I saw Steve ascend the staircase, wearing the brown leather jacket that looked so good on him. He had the box of pizza in one hand and was messing with his keys in the other.

“I left my spare key at home. You should really leave another one somewhere.” I noted.

“I do,” he nodded towards his neighbor across the hall, “Kate has one.”

“Oh,” I sighed.

As if the Gods’ wanted to torture me more with the thought of Steve’s neighbor across the hall, she came out from her apartment. Adjusting the laundry basket on her hip, she smiled towards Steve.

Jealous eyes watched as they chatted, Steve flirting almost effortlessly with her. She giggled at a lame joke he told and I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. My shoulders slouched in anger when Steve invited her over to join us.

“I don’t want to impose,” she looked between Steve and I.

Steve quickly shook his head. “No, we’re just friends.”

My heart dropped to my stomach. “Yeah, friends.”

“Maybe next time. I’ve got a load in the wash.”

Steve agreed the next time and I had to turn away as he hugged Kate.

“You could have been a little nicer to her,” Steve asked as he leaned against his door.

“I’ve been waiting almost a half hour for you. I’m tired and hungry so sorry I didn’t feel like being friendly,” I snapped but immediately apologized when I saw the hurt flash across his face.

“It’s been a really long day,” I sighed while pinching my eyes shut.

“Hey, it’s alright.” Steve pulled me into his chest and left a soft kiss to the top of my head. “I’m sorry I’m late. I was visiting a friend at the V.A center.”

My brows rose. “The V.A center?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, Sam. I met him a few days ago. He’s nice, I can set you up with him if you want?”

“No thanks,” I scrunch my face, “I can find a guy by myself.”

“How’s that working out for you?” Steve joked.

Scoffing, I gave him a slight push and I nodded towards the door. “My pizza is getting cold.”

He laughed but his body froze leaning an ear against the door.

“What?” I questioned.

“My record player is on.” Steve glanced over to me.

I leaned my ear against the door but shook my head, “I don’t hear anything.”

“You don’t have super soldier hearing,” Steve teased. “Did you leave it on?”

“I swear I turned it off when I left the other day.” I promised.

Getting into Captain America mode, Steve shielded me as he slowly unlocked the door, pushing it open. I slipped my knife out of my boot as I followed close behind. The music vibrated off the walls as Steve grabbed his shield from its place on the wall. The knife flipped in my fingers with ease as we reached the living room and saw the slouched figure sitting in the chair.

Nick Furry.

“I don’t remember giving you a key,” Steve sighed while leaning against the wall.

“Did you really think I would need one?,” Nick defended while sitting up, “My wife kicked me out.”

“I didn’t know you were married,” I admitted.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Nick admitted.

“I know, Nick. That’s the problem,” Steve declared while turning on the light.

Goosebumps pricked my skin when I took in Nick’s appearance. He had a giant gash to the side of his head and blood was dripping down onto Steve’s chair. I wanted to ask what happened but he held up a finger to silence me while he turned off the light. Nick typed a message into his phone before showing us.

Ears everywhere.

Steve and I shared a look before our eyes glanced around the apartment. Steve tensed up next to me, the anger of being watched rose from within and he cursed under his breath. All of his private moments suddenly weren’t so private anymore.

“I’m sorry to do this but I had no other place to crash,” Nick showed us a new message on his phone.

Shield Compromised.

“What the fuck,” I cursed.

“Who else knows about your wife?” Steve continued to play along, in case it was true that his apartment was bugged.

Nick stood with a groan and limped over to us, clutching his side. “Just my friends.”

Just us. The new message on his phone read.

Steve scoffed. “Is that what we are, Nick?”

“Steve,” I warned, “Now isn’t the time for whatever beef you have with him.”

“That’s up to you,” Nick admitted.

The floor beneath our feet shook as a scream erupted from my throat when the wall behind Nick exploded in gunfire. Steve grabbed my waist and pulled me into his chest as we watched in horror as Nick’s limp body fell to the ground.

“What the fuck?!” I yelled.

“Get away from the window!” Steve demanded, pulling Nick’s body in the hallway with us.

He went to look out the window to see if he was able to see the shooter but Nick grasped his arm stopping him.

He opened his hand and a hard drive sparkled from the light outside.

“Don’t. Trust. Anyone.” Nick sputtered before passing out.

“Steve, what the hell is going on?” My voice quivered with fear.

Before Steve could answer, his front door busted open and Kate walked in, gun armed and aimed.

“Captain Rogers, I’m Agent 13, Shield Special Service.” Kate said, walking further into Steve’s apartment.

“Kate? What the hell are you doing here?” I questioned.

“I’ve been assigned to protect Steve,” She defended.

“On whose order?” Steve snapped.

Kate set her gun down before nodding towards Nick. “His.”

Steve and I shared a look and giving him a slight nod, I turned my attention towards Kate. “You should call it in, Agent.”

“Foxtrot is down and unresponsive. I need EMT’S.” Kate ignored me as she talked into the radio.

“Do we have a twenty on the shooter?”

Steve peaked around the corner and grabbed my hand, pulling me with him. “Tell them we’re in pursuit.”

Not asking any questions, I let Steve wrap his arm around my waist as we ran through the window, literally, and felt the ground vanish beneath our feet. Glass shattered around us as we landed hard on the floor of the building across the street.

“Ow, that’s gonna leave a mark,” I groaned, rising to my feet taking off in a chase after the shooter.

Steve was just a few paces ahead of me while the shooter was on the roof above us, his heavy footsteps echoing through the empty offices. Steve busted through doors and glass windows, making it easier for me to keep up with him.

“There has to be a staircase to the roof somewhere!” I yelled before I watched through the window in front of us as the shooter jumped down onto the roof of the building in front.

“We’re going through the window, aren't we?” I semi whined.

“Yup!”

Suddenly, Steve barreled his way through the window rolling onto his knees and threw his shield at the shooter. The broken glass crunched beneath my boots as I came to a sudden halt when my eyes landed on the man who had caught Captain America’s shield mid throw.

Long brown locks.

Blue eyes.

A metal arm.

My mouth ran dry while my hands shook, unable to move out of the way as the shield came flying back towards me. Ears rang in silence as the blood drained from my face, memories of that same metal arm slamming into me like a brick wall. The same man that I thought of earlier for the first time in years was standing right in front of me, in the flesh.

“Y/N!”

Steve’s voice brought me back as I fell to the ground with his body on mine. With the shield gripped tight in one hand, his other gently cupped my cheek. Steve pulled my face to look into his eyes; however, I couldn’t focus. I ignored the feeling that took over my body when Steve pressed his hips into mine, unknowingly, and licked my dry lips.

My past life had just barreled into me; a private part of my life that absolutely no one knew about and suddenly, I was very terrified of them finding out.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #bucky barnes and reader #the winter soldier #marvel #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier smut #bucky barnes x agent!reader #james barnes smut #james barnes imagine #james bucky barnes #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #soldat bucky barnes

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causenessus · 1 day ago

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in every universe. | nakahara chuuya

chuuya x gn!reader

written in 2nd person :3

"i'd give the world to her, as long as my heart's still beating, as long as she's next to me, because I like her." -> 20191009 i like her by (mac demarco)

2.7k words

notes: use of pet names sweetheart/doll (for reader) and love/darling (for chuuya), established relationship, a lot of flirting and teasing on both ends because they love each other and can handle it, chuuya cursing, chuuya being head over heels for reader, gifting giving as a love language taken to the MAX, just two people being bookworms :3 i hope you enjoy! the bookstore they go to (spoiler alert) is very much based off of a bookstore i went to while visiting my mango anon, so i dedicate this work to her <3

nakahara chuuya who never had time to read or stop to take a breath until he met you. in the sheep, even when he was first taken in, he soon began to help on food runs. once they found out about his ability, there was never a day he got to catch a true break. then joining the mafia kept him busy, and what he few things he did read were half-assed reports or those typed by someone who obviously should have been a novelist rather than a mafia lackey.

for him, there was no middle between never reading and reading something that made him want to set the paper in his hands on fire. but that didn't mean he outright hated the idea of it. he liked the idea of books and the stores and libraries that were filled with shelves of thread-bound tens or hundreds of sheets of paper from every decade of the world; some having recently found their way onto a shelf while others had been printed, placed on shelves, and traded hands for centuries. he liked the idea of the worlds each of the books contained, the different stories they all told, and the inferences and messages people would take with them after finishing a book.

once, he’d been trailing a target who'd entered a nearby bookstore to browse their selection. he'd done his own bit of wandering, mainly to fit in with the atmosphere until it became less of an act and something more genuine—a few covers would catch his eye and he’d felt tempted to pull them off the shelf and buy them right then and there before he remembered what he was here for. but that interaction had been his first experience with the allure of books; it wasn't really something he'd learned in that moment, but, more precisely, from you.

you, who would get too caught up in a book until he'd called your name for the umpteenth time, not angry, but worried about why you weren't responding to him. he'd feared you were purposely ignoring him and was unsure of what he’d done until you’d silenced his concerns with a laugh. when he'd settled onto the couch next to you after finally getting your attention, you'd climbed on top of him, pressing a kiss to his lips, "i'm not mad. i was just reading a good book, i promise."

a book had the ability to distract you that much?

"i just get lost in books sometimes—too focused on what’s happening in the world within them. that's what a good book does," you explained further, his hands trailing down to settle on your sides, pulling you close and flush against him.

he hummed, processing your words. it sounded like an interesting experience and anything you liked he was bound to like, right? the only kind of book he didn't want to read was a mystery. he had enough of that kind of shit in his everyday life when he had to figure out where the hell his rookies went off to every day–not to mention that cursed book he'd been trapped into by that detective boy from the agency several months ago.

a few days after your explanation, he was taking you out on his day off when you both passed the bookstore he'd previously found himself in on that last mission. recognizing the sign that hung on the wall above the store, his feet almost stopped as if he was feeling a pull to return back to the store before he ignored the feeling. noticing his interest in the bookstore, you’d squeezed his hand. "hey, I wanna go in there. can we?" you asked, tilting your head while pointing to the store.

he'd never been able to resist that sweet smile of yours and this is–of course–his day to spoil you, but he still can’t help but tease you a little bit first, "huh? you don't have enough books already?"

you pout, already settled on your decision as you begin tugging him towards the entrance of the store, "how rude! never say that to a bookworm. there's no such thing as having too many books."

"yeah, yeah, sorry." he rolls his eyes half heartedly, but he doesn’t put the effort to tease you above making it to the door before you do, holding it open before walking in after you.

the bookstore is worn, the small bell at the edge of the door more of a dusty bronze than a gold, showing its age. the floorboards have started to bow with how many seasons of cold and warm temperatures they’ve been through and they creak loudly, flattening back into their original flush position whenever he steps on them. there's a large dark walnut wooden ladder reaching the shelves of the store's abnormally high ceiling, looking as cliché as it gets, yet it was the first thing he noticed upon entering the store weeks ago and it’s one of his favorite touches to the store even now.

he almost protests when your fingers slip out of his as you run off to admire in awe a row of books that adorn the top of a piano, but he smiles at the look of wonder in your eyes that only grows when you turn to the left to see a staircase descending down.

"chuuya! look! they have a lower floor!" you say, straightening back up to point at the stairs, looking at him.

he's shoved his hands in his pockets, finally making it back to you after you’d run off and now he's staring you down with a look in his eyes that makes you melt and drop your arm shyly under his adoring gaze, "yeah, you just noticed, sweetheart?"

"well– not a lot of bookstores have something like this," you purse your lips, looking down at the floor, "you're acting like you've been here before."

"i have," he replies, arm coming around your shoulder to guide you to the staircase, where he knows you want to go. you look up at him in surprise as you begin descending the broad wooden planks and he shrugs, "was following someone last week and they came in here. spent like an hour walking around...they must've been a bookworm like you."

you giggle at his words, leaning closer into his touch, pressing a chaste kiss to the underside of his jaw, nuzzling your nose into the side of his neck before pulling away. "well, now you're going to have to watch me wander around this bookstore. don't go too far, alright?"

"says you," he sighs, shaking his head as you run off the moment you reach the bottom of the stairs to the nearest bookshelf. while you spend a few minutes observing every spine lined up in front of you, he begins to wander around on his own, trying to find the books he'd looked at last week. there was no harm in it, right? it looked weirder if he just stood around in the middle of the store waiting for his sweet partner to be done. although, another unique touch to the bookstore was a small projector that hung from the ceiling of the basement of the bookstore. it was casting an old black and white film onto a side of a wall, where a few rows of seats had been placed for anyone wanting to sit for a moment.

but he didn't need to pretend he was here for a reason, he’d wanted to come in here just as much as you did even if he wouldn’t admit it. he soon found himself searching the shelves too, gloves trailing along the edges of several book's spines, ever so often stopping to pull one that stood out to him.

a blow against the shell of his ear makes him jump and he spins around to face you, his cheeks a little pink, "shit, you scared me, doll."

you only give him a teasing smile and laugh, your eyes flickering down to the book in his hand, "did you find something you liked?"

he turns the object around in his eyes, looking at its back as if the answer to your question was supposed to be there. the entire cover was made out of blue thread, and the gold text that had been etched into it had grabbed his attention. "i don't know, i think i just liked how it looked. what about you?"

he can see you holding your hands behind your back and at his prompt, you flash him a grin before revealing a pile of books balanced nicely on top of each other.

the large stack isn't what makes his eyes widen and lips part slightly–it's how familiar all the covers of the books look to him. "did you–?"

"you fell right into my trap, chuu," you keep teasing him and it pieces together.

you had plenty of books, and yeah you could always have more but you hadn’t wanted to come here for you. you'd noticed his slight trip up at the sight of the store, and brought him in here for him. so that he could look at books. you'd been secretly paying attention to what books he'd picked up out of the corner of your eyes. and once he'd finished talking himself out of buying a book and placed it back where he found it, you trailed behind him to pull the book right back off the shelves.

you'd snuck up on him at the end of an aisle, where there were bookshelves on all three sides of you both besides the way you'd come from. he used that to his advantage, suddenly pulling you in by the hip to press you against the bookshelf facing the opposite end of the aisle. to anyone else, he probably only looked like he was browsing the selection this shelf (unless they were unfortunate enough to look just a little bit closer, to the pair of shoes trapped between his own).

you'd exclaimed at the sudden pull, tightening your grip on the books, shuddering when you felt his breath on your neck.

"you're sly, you know that? when'd you start behaving like this?" the words went straight to your stomach where you felt a flutter, and you reached out a hand to grip the sleeve of one of his arms.

"well, i learned from you, of course," you fired back, your mouth immediately going dry at the trail of kisses he left down your neck.

"you're too cute for your own good, you know," he murmured, pulling away, leaving you a blushing mess. "are you done? should we keep going?" he asked, looking at you like nothing had happened.

"i– um– just want to buy these books and then we can leave," you fixed your clothing, trying to cool down.

he quirked a brow, "were you actually interested in those books too? in that case, let me pay–" he reached for the books in your hands but you dodged his attempt, shifting your arms to hold them out to the right.

"no, i'm buying them for you, silly!" you teased, already walking past him before he could process your words and catch you.

"[y/n]—"

"i know what you’re thinking. you didn’t want to buy them in the first place because ‘i’ll never have time to read them... what if I don't like them... blah blah blah…’ but that all changes today. starting now, i'll be taking you on reading dates at least once a month. got it?" you turned to face him on the stairs you were climbing back up and he stopped behind you, a look of surprise on his face. "you'll never know if you like them until you try, chuu."

"i–"

"good, it's settled," you winked before turning back towards the top of the stairs, walking over to the counter.

once you got there? chuuya fought with you to pay, the both of you whipping out your cards while the cashier in front of you continued to stare forward with a smile on their face as if the couple in front of them wasn't shoving at each other, cursing one another out as their arms got tangled up, grabbing at each other's wrists.

your card won in the end, and you laughed triumphantly before placing the books in his hands while he muttered something you couldn't quite catch. when you made it out the door, he'd pulled you by the waist to bring your back flush against his chest again, face pressed into your shoulder, his new books still held at his side. "thank you, doll," he whispered, face slightly muffled by your shoulder.

but you heard it still, turning to place a gentle kiss to the side of his head. "of course, love," you smiled, reaching your arm back to find his free hand, intertwining it with yours. "now, where were we going again? before we got sidetracked by the books?"

"i was going to treat you to coffee," he came back to your side as you both began to walk again.

you bobbed your head at the reminder, "ah, right! although i think you're mistaken. i was going to treat you."

he looked at you from the side, brows furrowed, "hell no. especially not after you paid for these books. you're not gonna win this time, i'll pin your feet to the ground with gravity if i have to."

"you wouldn't dare," you stuck your tongue out at him before looking forward and refusing to say anything else. and he didn't argue back, because you were right. he'd much rather wire his entire savings into your account or pay you back a hundred times over before ever even thinking about using his ability on you in such a way. "hey," you suddenly perked up again and he hummed in response, waiting for you to continue, "do you wanna read at the cafe? or just go home? don't tell me it's up to me, tell me what you want."

he sighed at how quick you were to shut down his default answer, taking a second to think through his answer. "i think i just wanna go home. don't wanna hear anyone's voice but yours."

the way he smirked at you afterward, seeing your face warm at his comment told you that he was flirting on purpose to get a rise out of you. but you also knew by this point that his compliments came from an honest place, it was just for his entertainment that he’d word them in such a way to leave you a blushing mess.

"alright then," you mumbles back, cheeks flushed, "we'll grab something and go home."

and that day off had started a routine. "reading dates" as you had called them.

you.

he loved you.

he loved coming home, no matter the time, and seeing you on his couch, knees pulled to your chest where a book was nestled. he loved the way you beckoned him with a hand and a soft call of his name, carded your fingers through his hair as you changed your position, just to accommodate him, so that he could rest his head in your lap.

sometimes you seemed to read his mind and had the current book he was reading on the other side of you and would hand it to him so that he could read as well. sometimes, you simply rubbed his scalp, telling him, “just rest, darling. how was your day?”

maybe it was because he was always so busy, always on the move, always out of the house and returning home late, but he much preferred staying inside with you on his days off to going out if you didn’t want to. he liked it when you both lay against opposite sides of the couch, legs intertwined where they met in the middle, or when he was nestled between your legs, head resting on your middle as you both read in a peaceful silence.

he liked best when neither of you even made it the couch, but woke up in each others arms, and stayed in bed the whole day. or when he woke up, an arm still slung around your front, keeping you close, but you were sat up, resting against the headboard of his bed, book in hand.

he loved you, it was that simple. it was the root of his life, his purpose for living, the feeling in which everything else could stem from.

perhaps you were a kind of book yourself, always able to take him to another world, where he could be separated from his problems and just focus on the beauty of creation and humankind. and he could do that all just by tracing the side of your face every morning.

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yandereunsolved · 3 days ago

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𐚁 Yandere High Honor Arthur Morgan (RDR2) 𐚁

One misstep in a mission led him into what could only be described as a more torturous cycle of love and abuse than he has ever felt before. Real smart of him to fall head over heels, quite literally, with someone hell-bent on locking him up. And maybe he'd be okay with that if you were the sheriff and he'd get to tease you before making some grandiose escape. But you had to be a bounty hunter—and an annoyingly good one at that.

You just don't give up. But neither does he.

He always manages to slip through your fingers, as your heart has evaded his. You'll get him this time or die trying.

He really could leave you in the dust with his trusty steed if he wanted, but it's cute how hard you try.

He pulls on the reins as he narrowly avoids another tree. Damn forests. Always growing those things.

He sneaks a look back at you so eagerly chasing after him, a deer after another one of its kind. How fortuitous.

He shouts at you, hoping to provoke your wrath, "Aye. What's the phrase? Seventh times the charm?"

He chuckles near lightheartedly, but you only hear a vicious cackle. With a single bullet from one of his twin Schofield revolvers, you feel your horse's legs buckle under you before you get a chance to respond. You swear this man can be in two places at once. By the time you have rolled off, not being able to spare a second to look for injuries, and stood up, Arthur is sitting on his high horse, quite literally, holding the revolver a couple feet from your head.

"Sorry, partner. Seems like you winnin' jus' wasn't in the cards."

You raise your hands from your sides, keeping your fists closed, your small backup slip joint knife in one.

"Seems like you're hiding somethin', darlin', or is this just another one of your tricks?"

You realize you haven't responded to him at all, almost frozen. Damn it. Fuck it all. It's not time for your 'instincts' to kick in. You become disturbingly aware of the metallic copper taste overwhelming your taste buds.

"Come on now!" He gets off his horse, yours having limped off, not rideable in its condition anyhow.

"The big bad bounty hunter who has taken in some of Colm's men gets all shy when in my presence." He gets closer. He seemingly walks with ease, but you can see the tenseness of his muscles, a strange mix of conflicting emotions in his weary eyes.

"Seems you're easier than I thought," his chapped lips murmur into your ear, innuendo woven throughout his tone—unashamed, almost.

Your body goes into the motions before your mind has time to make a calculated decision. You open your slipjoint knife to slit his jugular. A dead bounty is better than a dead bounty hunter. His hand wraps around your wrist, twisting it, causing you to drop the knife. You fall to your knees in pain as his grip tightens, no joy in his eyes from harming you.

"A-Ah, hah... fuck me," you breathily moan out, the adrenaline that's pumping into your veins becoming feckless.

You don't know how willing I am to take you up on that offer.

Arthur shoves you onto the dewy ground. Your knees buckle beneath you as your chest makes itself well acquainted with the dirt. He straddles your hips, the familiar sound of rope moving in his… his rugged hands.

The world threatens to turn black on you, but you stay conscious out of spite.

"You'll rot in hell, Arthur Morgan. Arrested or not," you spit out through gritted teeth, your blood seeping into the earth and the collar of your clothes.

Your body sits somewhere between alert and comatose, trying to find a split moment to make your escape before hogtied.

He chuckles.

"You ain't the first person to tell me that. You are the most attractive," he gruffly huffs out.

His thighs squeeze your sides tighter as he roughly ties your wrists and knots them together. He lingers for a moment, admiring you in this position. But he is a respectable man, well, somewhat respectable. So he keeps an 'appropriate,' appropriate for an outlaw grip, on you as he binds your ankles.

"If I was a worse man, I'd kill you." If I was a better man, I'd let you go.

He makes it a point to show the difference in strength as he connects the bindings of your hands and ankles together. His hands wander to various limbs, holding them down as you begin to struggle, frustrated by how long he's taking. How embarrassing this is.

"Kill me or let me go! You won't do it, though, will you? Inside of that twisted, fucked-up mind of yours, you like me. Maybe I remind you of the innocent souls you've tortured, you sick—"

Your voice is dampened by the sweaty bandana he stuffs in your mouth and ties around the back of your head. You still try to shout, albeit quite muffled, and you're getting light-headed again.

Arthur wants to say, 'God, you look good this way. The things you do to a poor man like me.' But refrains. 'I really am too much of a sick, ugly fuck to expect love from you.'

"You talk too much, dear. This ole' trick should shut you up for a while."

He hoists you up onto his horse, securing you to it. In a last-ditch effort, you try to use the leverage of the horse to nudge the cloth out of your mouth. You get it a little ways out and cause one more uproarious ruckus with your mouth.

"Or I could take your tongue, but I suspect you like it."

You can tell by his tone that he isn't joking. You stop and quiet yourself. You almost want to curl up into yourself, but don't.

"Good job, darling. Seems you're finally leaning how to listen."

He talks to you sweeter than his horse. A shiver runs down your spine as your cheeks heat up, all involuntary, of course. As if it couldn't get any worse, he pats the top of your head, rubbing it as if you needed to be soothed like an animal in distress.

"We'll work on it. Together."

He mounts his filly, instructing her to start galloping. You don't know how long this ride will be or if you'll survive, although you suspect you will—and you'll have to play house or give in to whatever fucked-up fantasies are going on in that mind of his. You're too much of everything at this point. So you lie defeated, hogtied like some common criminal, on the back of the horse that belongs to one of the West's most notorious outlaws.

"I’m a poor, lonesome, cowboy." "Poor, lonesome, cowboy." "Poor, lonesome, cowboy." "Taking my darling back to camp."

#yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere x reader #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #yandere rdr2 #yandere rdr2 x reader #yandere red dead redemption #yandere red dead redemption x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #yandere arthur morgan #yandere arthur morgan x reader #high honor arthur morgan #yandere high honor arthur morgan

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lemon-berri · 5 hours ago

Text

Perfume (pt 3)

There's that floral smell again. It's the first thing you notice, like a hand reaching out to you from reality. You take it, holding on tight. You're ready to come home.

Your other senses follow suit. There's a soft mattress below you, a cover like a cloud covers you. You're warm, in a cozy kind of way, and the covers beneath you rustle softly as you attempt to move- a gasp follows. You try and recognise the voice but can't seem to concentrate right now.

Finally, you open your eyes, and the real world comes into focus again. Blurry light immediately floods your vision and you have to squint. But soon you start to make out familar shapes, colour floods your world.

You're surrounded by flowers. Bouquets of your favourites flood every visible surface, and you might've thought you were in a meadow were it not for the familiar bed and furniture surrounding you.

You're in the medical rooms of Jujutsu Tech. That's right. You were on that mission, and then the wretched cursed spirit managed to trap you in your mind. There's a sinking feeling in your stomach as you realise you must've worried everyone.

When you try and move your limbs they feel weak, almost foreign to you. Your entire body feels stiff. Just how long were you out for...?

Someone's calling you name.

"Hey... hey can you hear me? Are you alright?"

You move your head slightly to find Shoko by your bedside, examining you with a concerned expression. Your heart clenches at the worry in your friends eyes.

"Sho...?" you croak out. Your own voice is a foreign thing.

She only chuckles, shaking her head slightly. "I knew you'd come back."

You try and speak again, but this time no noise comes out. Your heart races, why can't you move? Why can't you talk?

You felt like you were out for a day, possibly two. But then why can't you control your body? Just how long were you out?

"Don't put unnecessary strain on yourself." Shoko tells you. "I know you're confused, it will pass. You'll regain control of your body gradually." You watch her put a hand on your shoulder, but the sensation of touch takes a while to register. You feel even more afraid now.

"I'll help you every step of the way, okay?"

She's saying something else now, but you can't hear her anymore. Your eyelids feel heavy, and though you fight it, the darkness pulls you under again.

Rest. Yes. You need to rest.

The next two days are exactly the same. You wake up, try to move, get a few words out, and then you sleep again. But you're making progress, slowly managing longer conversations ever so slowly.

Shoko kept true to her word, she's been here every time you've awoken, she has not left your side. You've found out from her that you were gone for 3 months. It's still processing in your mind, how you could've missed so much time. It's a sickening, dreadful sort of feeling. One you haven't quite come to terms with.

No one else has come yet. Shoko is probably trying not to stress you. But you've noticed all the cards left for you. Some from your friends, others from your students. And an overwhelming amount from one very important person.

You've noticed his absence of course, but you try not to let it discourage you. You've seen the flowers around the room, the sea of gift bags along the floor. There was a white teddy bear next to you when you woke up, and you noticed you were tucked in with your favourite blanket from home.

There's no doubt he's been here. Clearly he's spent a lot of time here. He hasn't abandoned you.

On the evening of the second day, you finally manage the words to ask Shoko.

"S'toru.. where is he..?" Your voice is getting better now, you're making good progress.

"He was sent on an overseas mission just before you woke up." Shoko explains. She's writing something down in a notebook, you watch her hands move quickly along the paper. "Trust me, it was a massive argument between him and the higher ups. He didn't want to leave. But I've called to tell him you're awake, he's likely already on his way"

That makes you smile, he's coming back. Something burns in your chest. It's the same kind of determination you used to beat the cursed spirit. You'll be better by the time he comes back, you'll make even more progress.

Shoko seems to notice the fire in your eyes, she returns your smile. "Let's try sitting up next, yeah?"

The next day you're reading sentences out loud from a sheet of paper, getting used to your voice again, to forming full sentences. You've managed to sit up by now, and you've been moving your legs slightly- building up to standing again.

There's no one in the room but you right now. Shoko had other things to attend to, she's still at work after all. But you know she's only a call away.

"Dogs are better than rabbits, but rabbits are better than snakes-" You pause, musing to yourself. "What...? Who wrote these?"

That's when you hear a commotion down the hallway outside your room. Two sets of loud footsteps, walking fast. They're talking in raised voices, but you can't quite make out the words.

Your attention is immediately swayed, the earlier task all but forgotten. And you listen carefully as their voices become clearer.

"You have to stay calm or you'll stress her unessersaily."

"I am calm!"

"Sure. Clearly you are. Because this is how a calm person acts."

"I don't have the time for this-"

The door to your room swings open.

Your eyes instantly meet his. And you find yourself enraptured by a stormy blue ocean of emotions. He stops in the doorway, as if unable to move.

Not that you can either. Time stops entirely, and you take him in. Satoru. Your Satoru. He's home.

Your relief is quickly replaced with concern as your eyes trail along his form. His hair is dishevelled, and dark bags have formed under his eyes from a lack of sleep. He's trembling, his uniform is messy and unironed, and he's not wearing a blindfold so his head is probably already hurting.

Tears well in your eyes, for what he must've been through these past few months.

Perceptive as ever, he instantly notices.

"Nonono- Angel, I'm sorry, don't cry-" Satoru moves in towards you, wrapping his arms around you ever so gently. Like you're a porcelain doll that might break at any moment. On your end, you hold him so tight you feel like you might squeeze the air out of him.

Shoko stands at the doorway, making sure you're okay and that he's not causing you trouble, before deciding its safe to leave you alone. There's a gentle sound as she closes the door.

Satoru nuzzles your shoulder, white hair ticking your jawline. He breathes out your name like a prayer, like you're the only thing that exists.

You can't help the tears that flow from your eyes.

"I'm sorry-" you try to say, but it comes out as a sob.

He looks up, meeting your eyes. "Sorry? Why are you apologising?" His hands come up to hold your cheeks, brushing your tears away with his thumb.

"For making you worry..." You mutter out.

"Never-" Satoru shakes his head "and I mean never ever apologise. Okay? I should be on my knees thanking you for coming back."

He starts to crouch down, earning a laugh from you in the midst of your tears. He's always known how to make you smile.

"Please don't do that." You say.

He smiles, straightening up again. "There she is."

Then he's holding you again, tighter this time. You lean against his firm chest, feeling like you're home as you listen to the steady heartbeat you've grown so familiar to.

You're both quiet for a moment. Content with each other's presence. He's your peace, and your warmth, and the steady shelter in the middle of your storm. Your entire world. And you know, by the way he holds you, that you're his too.

"Toru..?"

Theres a pause before he answers. "Hm?"

"Did you have to get so many flowers?" You ask.

"Yes-" He starts to say, but his voice breaks. You don't need to look up to know he's crying. You just let him.

"It's okay... I'm back now, it's alright." You reassure him softly.

"M' sorry Angel..." He breathes out. "Its just... its been too long since I heard your voice..."

You hug him tighter, letting out a calm sigh. Theres a strange scent on his shirt. One that's familiar, but you can't quite place it.

"Well.. you'd better get ready for me to talk your ear off." You say to lighten the mood. Your nose scrunches slightly. What is that smell?

"I'd like nothing more." He says. You finally look up to find red puffy eyes staring back at you. Its unfair, even like this he's still irresistible. His eyes carefully study your features, like he's mapping them to memory. There's a glint of concern in the midst of the azure, and you wonder for the first time what you look like now.

You're probably weaker, undoubtedly more frail from the lack of movement. Does he like what he sees? Does he recognise you? Maybe he doesn't even know what to make of you. Your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

As if sensing your concern, he kisses your forehead.

"I love you... so much. You know that right? You're everything to me."

You don't hesitate to respond. "I love you too."

He smiles, leaning down to kiss you. After all this time, he needs this. But just before your lips can meet, you pull back slightly to ask.

"Toru, why do you smell like my perfume?"

Pt 1 Pt 2

And that concludes Perfume! Thank you so so much to everyone who read it and followed the series! When I started this I didn't intend to write more than one part, but you all inspired me. I sincerely hope you enjoyed the ending 🩵

You already know the drill - not proofread, please don't point out my mistakes.

You're all amazing 🩵

Dividers by @bunnysrph

🌟Tag list 🌟 @seternic @hel1nn @just-another-idk @moonchhu @kvroomi @ourfinalisation @laaalaaaloooppppsiiieeeee

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #my glorious blue eyed king #gojo #satoru gojo #gojo x reader angst #gojo angst #dose of angst #angsty #angst #jjk x reader #part 3

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imagionationstation · 1 day ago

Note

the fact that there's no fanart of the 2012 gang and Tinkerbell interacting is insulting to me, like, picture it.

-April and Tink are both voiced by Mae Whitman (except in Peter Pan of course)

-Tink and Donnie bonding over them both being tinkers.

-Tink having a crush on Donnie, and kicking April and pulling her hair because of jealousy, the way she does to Wendy in Peter Pan.

-I can picture Donnie saying something like, "how are we supposed to get up there?" And then Tink covers him in pixie dust and the gang are all baffled as Donnie starts floating.

-Tink and Raph bonding over their tempers.

-Leo having a little tea party with Tink, because Leo had tea parties with Chloe, and Tink had tea Parties with the little girl in the Great fairy rescue movie.

-Tink and Mikey getting into trouble together.

Are you seeing the vision?????

OKAY THIS IS CRIMANAL WHY IS THERE NO FANART OF THIS

This is such a cute idea, actually. So, so hear me out:

Donnie first hears the soung of bells while on patrol and goes to track the random light at the corner of his eyes but finds nothing and the audience sees a flutter of sparkles at the corner of the screen. His brothers tease him for hearing things and they go to the lair and he pouts to his lab and Tinker Bell has been following them this whole time (Four. Talking. Turtles. Who WOULDN'T follow?). Then she ends up exploring his lab and :0000 He's so cool look at all this stuff!!

And then she reveals himself to him and he goes to show his brothers but when they enter the lab Tink is just gone. Then he's frustrated when they leave and Tink reveals herself again 'cause she was hiding bc she's a FAIRY she can't just go around showing herself to EVERYONE she just thinks he's smart and wants to hang with a fellow inventor who uses nothing and makes something.

And so instead of following April around he becomes preoccupied with the tiny fairy in his lab and they learn how to communicate (kinda) and bond and THAT'S when she develops a crush on him because lkdfjgldkfjgld he's so PASSIONATE AND KIND AND SWEET

Then during a mission, she saves him by using her fairy dust and then she HAS to reveal herself because now his brothers think his delulu is spreading because THAT'S NOT THE NORM???

And then after she reveals herself to everyone, they do bonding things and silliness all around and Splinter is just kinda like "cool a kodama (Japanese tree spirit) is in my home why not" and Tink has met the parent and everyone knows what they say about getting introduced to the parent and then April enters the picture and Tink is no longer Donnie's fascination and she DOES NOT like that no sir

But since she's a fairy and talks through bells, she can't TELL HIM why it is that she's annoyed. She just IS and she's randomly really, really, aggressive to April which baffles EVERYONE because she's been so friendly and sweet the whole time so-

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meraki24601 · 1 day ago

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Drip

“I… uh, I must admit, I was a little worried about meeting up with you.” Whumpee swirled their fingertip around the edge of their cup. “The others are afraid of you, but you’ve been nothing but kind.”

Whumper chuckled. They swiped a cookie from the overflowing plate in the center of the table. The dessert flipped between their fingers and rolled effortlessly over their knuckles before they lightly set it down on their plate without taking a bite. “Yes, they fear me. They have good reason to, and from what I hear, they have just as much reason to be afraid of you, too.”

“Me?” Whumpee’s face paled, “I’m not sure what you—”

Bang! Whumper’s hand slammed against the table. Their voice was quiet as they called, “Waiter? My friend could do with a refill of their coffee. Thank you.”

The waiter disappeared into the back with only a slight nod of acknowledgment. As the door fell closed behind him, the silence in the empty coffee shop seemed to deepen. A cloud covered the sun through the tall windows, and the shadows leaned in closer to hear what Whumper had to say. For the first time since they’d arrived, Whumpee started to regret their decision.

“There. Alone at last. You’re wise not to reveal unnecessary secrets to others, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t keep them from me.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about. I don’t have secrets, and I’m not scary.” Whumpee didn’t dare meet Whumpers eyes. Instead, they let their gaze follow Whumper’s hands. They looked strong, with large palms and slender fingers. Hands that moved closer across the table. So close the fingertips nearly touched Whumpee before they abandoned the half-full mug they’d been gripping tighter and tighter to be surrounded and pulled away.

“You do a good job of playing the part, but we both know better than that. You see, I was there, Whumpee. I saw what you did.” Whumper examined the stolen cup. They seemed to devote their whole attention to the now cool liquid inside, but Whumpee was certain Whumper had seen how their breath hitched and their foot shifted toward the door.

“No.” Whumpee leaned against the low booth wall and threw their arm over the back to hide how their hand was shaking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There is no secret. Everything from the mission was recorded into the reports.”

Drip. Drip. Drip. Whumper tipped the cup so the dark liquid inside began spilling onto the floor. “It was quiet when I arrived. I thought they’d sent me too late. A light splashing sound drew me right to you and your team. They were chained up and huddled off to the side, but you… You were right there in the middle of it.”

The cup tipped further, and a puddle splattered across the floor. A few drops landed on Whumpee’s shoe and pant leg, but they couldn’t look away from the cup, once again slowly dripping as Whumper sighed. “You didn’t need my help. You escaped and did what needed to be done. You were beautiful.”

They could still smell the blood and taste the places it had splashed onto their tongue. Whumpee’s hands clutched at their face as their stomach threatened to revolt. And still, the mug in Whumper’s hand dripped. Dripped. Dripped. “No.”

Whumper snatched Whumpee’s wrist, nearly dragging them over the table. “Yes. You were wonderful. The way you turned to me even though you couldn’t see me, chest rising and falling with each panting breath. You protected your team, even as the blood covered your hands.” They pulled Whumpee’s arm over the side so their hand rested palm up beneath the cup.

“I made the same choice, Whumpee, so long ago. That is why they’re afraid of me. That’s why they sent me you.” The coffee stained Whumpee’s skin as it poured over their hand, across their wrist, and up their arm. “You have a seed of violence inside you. A will to protect what is yours, no matter the cost. I know just how to nurture it and let it grow.”

#whump fic #whump #whump scenario #whump writing #whump ideas #whump tropes #whumpee #whumper #past whump #past trauma

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sgt-bluesummers · 1 day ago

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CoD:MW 141 headcannons bc I'm insane !!!!!

(This will be for og bc I haven't played the remakes yet (I kind of want to just for gaz and ghoap tbh bc I love how gaz fans write him..))

💀Ghost:

Obviously very untrusting of ppl due to *gestures at all of him* but for the few ppl he does trust and is close with he is absoloutly clingy. You will barely ever find him and roach apart unless one is off on a mission without the other

Trans. You can decide which way but Ghost is trans you cannot change my mind

ALOT of internalised homophobia thanks to his father. The moment he realises he might be crushing on roach he starts to pull away, trying to avoid the other man completely to maybe get his feelings to stop but it obviously doesn't work

He doesn't own much (low-key scared to have much out of fear that they could be broken/taken) but the things he does own he treasures. Despite popular opinion, he only has one mask and the moment it gets dirty (blood, dirt, even rain) he scrubs it clean by hand the moment he's on base (he doesn't trust to put it in the wash, and bc of its material it would shrink in the wash anyway (trust me as a guy who wears gloves everywhere))

Doesn't even like going anywhere near his home city, not just for the memories but also bc of the 'Riley family murders' (which he got framed for) since he doesnt wanna get recognised and arrested bc for that time since his face was all over the local paper for a good while

He trusts Soap and if he ever needs to cool off from something upsetting him or whatver on base and roach isn't around, he goes right to his captain's office and just zones out in there till his head clears, Soap just leaves him to it

Will MELT at the slightest bit of affection after hes calmed down from the original fear of it turning to pain. The first time Roach scratches at his hair whilst they're both exhausted from a long mission he goes entirely limp

He was so so so untrusting of Price when he met the man for the first time after saving him from the gulag, felt really auspicious and protective of the way Soap immediately stepped down from captain for Price and of the way Soap seemed more... subdued. (Obviously learned to trsut Price but it took a while)

Autistic and almost always masking

When he isn't, he likes to play with knives (he collects them)

🪳Roach:

He's not entirely mute but he doesn't talk much either. He really only talks if he absoloutly has to, like communicating something important over comms on missions, otherwise he uses sign language.

When he does talk his voice is really rough and it hurts to talk for long

He WILL speak up though on base if he ever hears anyone talking shit about Ghost (like calling Ghost weird, or creepy, or anything else along those lines. Bc like. That's his guy >:( )

Low-key just as clingy as Ghost it's just less noticable when he does it since alot of ppl don't notice him anyway (he is short and quiet)

Autistic as well (and trans :3)

Plays rock paper scissors with himself as a stim

Always 'forgets' to bring a lighter when he goes to join Ghost for a smoke so they have to put the tips together and he gets to stare into Ghost's eyes whilst Ghost avoids eye contact

Follows Soap around like a lost puppy when Ghost isn't on base and is generally really trusting of the captain especially since Soap took him under his wing

Got his name from surviving missions no matter how many times he almost dies (cliff hanger, that one mission where he has to run through a town entirely unarmed in a short time, actually literally any mission he goes on)

🧼Soap aka 📕Mactavish

Always carrying his journal everywhere no matter what. Come hell or high water he has that book on him

As mentioned in said book, ever since price supposedly died he's been smoking the same exact brand of cigar price used to, even if its a slightly more expensive brand he sees it as worth it

He also always carries Price's old pistol on him, just in case he ever sees the man in question again and can finally give it back.. (expects that the place he'll give it back in will be hell)

The day the little rookie known as roach got onto his base he immediately saw himself in the young man and immediately took roach under his wing

He's just a little bit protective of his team.. he's lost so many ppl in his life and he's unwilling to lose more

Absoloutly devastated when he finds out Ghost and roach died, he just doesn't fully let it hit him until he finally gets to sit down in a safe house without bleeding out. He's inconsolable for hours

He had a lil bit of a crush on Price throughout mw1 ever since the first mission.. just a bit of puppy love until the final mission where they both almost die and it grows into something a bit more real... he even almost confesses before Price gets taken. After Price comes back, on that first night, he lays it all out. Doesn't wanna lose his chance again.

Every night after he finds himself not cold and alone in bed anymore crying out for his captain in his sleep, but instead held by the only man he allows to protect him rather than he being the one to do the protecting

He let's all his exhaustion built up from months take over the second he hands back the title of captain to Price, passes out and sleeps the best he ever had that night

He's trans too, btw, may as well be called t4t rather than 141

I don't have much for price rn sorry about that... just know that he's just as dependant on Soap as Soap is for him and he's also trans bc I said so... and bc I like projecting :3

#call of duty #ramblings #cod #simon ghost riley #09 ghost #codmw #og mw #ghostroach #og pricesoap #pricesoap #john soap mactavish #gary roach sanderson

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scripts4dreamers · 3 days ago

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All I see

AN: So, I wrote a Garrus Vakarian piece a while back and one of my friends pointed out that I had committed the cardinal sin, which is making two characters have healthy communication about an issue. She said "where is the ANGST. Where is the CODEPENDENCY" and, you know what? She's a real one for that. So, here is me going back to my teen years, rewriting a similar situation with 10x the miscommunication and jealousy, plus my ham fisted attempt at smut, which I usually avoid. I hope you enjoy! Warnings: Mature, sexual content and themes Spoilers: None

As he watched Shepard stumble off to the bathroom, her naked skin catching the light in a way that made him ache, Garrus had to admit, he’d really screwed himself this time. It had seemed so harmless at first, just two friends helping one another unwind, a much needed release of tension after hard fights with the added bonus of getting to try something new sexually with someone he could trust. Casual, meaningless sex. He’d done it before, he’d even enjoyed doing it before but, damnit, it had gotten complicated quickly. Not for Shepard. No, as far as Garrus could tell she was thoroughly enjoying their arrangement but, then again, Shepard hadn’t been violently suppressing her feelings for him for the better part of three years. Shepard wasn’t a closeted hopeless romantic whose heart famously lived in her dick. Shepard didn’t live in a ship - hell, a universe - filled to the brim with people who wanted to fuck Garrus. Oh no, that particular punishment was reserved solely for him.

It was a strange kind of torment to watch the woman you’ve been falling for for years, your best friend in the galaxy, and the universe’s only hope, get flirted with by every Turian, Asari, Drell and Human they came across mere hours after she was screaming your name and coming all over your cock as she begged you to pull her hair harder, but here Garrus was. At first it hadn’t bothered him much. Shepard was powerful, she was beautiful, she was charismatic and charming, she was dependable and dutiful and creative. She was irresistible to him, so how could he begrudge her for being irresistible to everyone else as well? And, most importantly, she came home to him. Let the security guy at C-Sec daydream about the famous Commander Shepard, he would think to himself, it was Garrus who got to make that dream a reality. But then time started to pass, the sex got infinitely better and Garrus’ feelings for Shepard got infinitely more complicated.

Garrus’s long held assertion that his feelings for Shepard were just a temporary infatuation stemming from how much she had changed his life on board the Normandy SR1 mixed with the heady, intoxicating relief of finding out she wasn’t dead had started to ring hollow. Too much time had passed and his feelings were too tender and specific. He couldn’t blame his desire for her on mere curiosity anymore either, or on the normal urges that pop up between crew mates on high stakes missions. He couldn’t even consider what they were doing just fucking anymore. In his mind he had started using other phrases; sleeping together, going to bed, being intimate, all things that had not been part of their initial agreement and were not considered casual, no strings attached sex. It was getting in his head and, unfortunately, Shepard had started to notice. She hadn’t said anything to him outright about his weird behaviour, but he could see that she wanted to. She was giving Garrus a chance to bring it up himself which, for obvious reasons, he couldn’t do.

In short, his stupid, achy, sentimental heart was dangerously close to ruining a good thing for him. Because, to be clear, this arrangement was a very good thing for Garrus. His battlefield chemistry with Shepard, which Garrus considered to be unmatched, so perfectly aligned that it sometimes made him want to believe in god just to have an explanation, paled in comparison to what they could do to one another in bed. It had taken them a while to get there, of course. Their first time had been so overshadowed by nerves and adrenaline and the sheer newness of it all that they had both been somewhat bumbling but, even then, it had been one of the best nights of his life. He had never been able to laugh with someone in bed, to clang his head against theirs wrong and not spoil the moment. It had been so exciting to have to learn someone’s body again, to be taught what she liked, to show her what he liked. They had been so eager, so well meaning and comfortable around each other that any awkwardness seemed endearing, and they were both quick studies.

He heard the shower start up. It was late, probably coming up on 2am, but Shepard hated going to bed sweaty and he’d put her through her paces that night, hoping to drown the memories of the young Asari who had playfully pulled Shepard’s hair at Afterlife and offered to take her home in memories of him, of the pleasure he could bring her. He was starting to worry that he’d been too rough. Shepard hadn’t said anything to make him feel that way, if anything she had seemed very receptive to the way his talons had dug into her hips and ass, but still. Garrus had been angry for a moment there and he never wanted to take that out on Shepard. If nothing else, she was his best friend. She had been there for him through everything, she didn’t deserve to become his punching bag just because his feelings got hurt.

Feeling guilty, Garrus followed the sound of the shower into the bathroom, crossing his arms over his carapace and merely watching for a moment. Shepard was so human. She was humming to herself, a tuneless melody that spoke to how satisfied she was. He could see the beginning of bruises on her hips and the slight outline of his teeth where he had bitten her shoulder and his guilt intensified. She just looked so…so vulnerable without her clothes or armor on. Her body curved and bent in places he couldn’t understand. Every inch of her was soft and unprotected, even her neck, chest and thighs which, he felt, should really have some sort of plating, if only to protect her main arteries. The smell of her shampoo, mixed with their lingering sex was heady and, as he watched her run her hands over her neck he could feel the first stirrings of arousal, but he pushed it down. She caught his eye and gave him that special knowing smile she reserved just for nights like his and beckoned him in. Garrus knew he shouldn’t, but he hated denying her anything, especially when it was something he also wanted desperately.

The warm rain felt wonderful against his plates, but it was nothing compared to Shepard’s water-slick skin beneath his palms. He licked a stripe down the back of her neck, letting his rough tongue scrape over the sensitive skin at the base of her ear and where her neck and shoulder met. She hummed her appreciation as he massaged her lower back, pulling her against his carapace and slowly moving his attention to her thighs.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely into her ear as he traced the blossoming bruises, “I-uh-I got a little carried away.”

She chuckled, “Yeah, you were really in it there, huh? Don’t apologize though, it was hot.”

He flushed, the skin of his torso and neck darkening slightly at the praise, “Still, I know I need to be more careful with-” he gestured with his talons.

Shepard rolled her eyes dramatically, turning to face him, “I’m not made of glass, Vakarian,” she reminded him leaning back against the shower wall and tugging him forward as she pressed her thigh in between his legs, “I’m not going to shatter if you squeeze me wrong.”

He groaned as her thigh pressed up against his groin plate, which was already loose and getting looser by the second.

“No, you won’t shatter,” he conceded, leaning his head down so his forehead was almost touching hers, his hands finding purchase on her lower back as he rolled his hips against her thigh, “but you might pop. You humans do have very thin skin.”

She chuckled, moving her hand up to absentmindedly scrape the back of his neck, “I trust you,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically tender.

Her eyes met his, wide and soft with affection and the complete acceptance she had always offered him so freely. He remembered that exact same look in her eye when she had first met him on the Citadel, when he’d told her about Dr Saleon, when he’d gone back to the Citadel. There had been something else in her eyes when she found him on Omega, a kind of frantic relief that still made him thrum with pleasure to remember, but the acceptance had never wavered. Whether he deserved it…well, he tried to. Spirits, he was always trying to. It was too easy to imagine things being different when she looked at him like that. If he wasn’t careful he would lose himself to the fantasy of them, so he pushed it away.

“Still,” he replied lamely, just to say something.

There was a moment of silence, Shepard’s gaze turning knowing as she waited, again, for an explanation of his behavior that wasn’t forthcoming.

“So,” Shepard eventually continued, “what got you so worked up, Vakarian? Could it have been that pretty little Human that was all over you at Afterlife?”

Garrus recoiled, genuinely stunned, “Excuse me?”

“Sarah,” she laughed, “you remember, she bought you those drinks to say thank you for helping me solve Nef’s murder?”

Garrus frowned, “The blonde?”

“Yes, the blonde!”

Garrus vaguely remembered her, but blonde was really the best he could do. At the time he had been preoccupied by the Asari and the hair pulling and all the giggling that was happening while he tried not to shatter the glass he was holding.

“No, she wasn’t-” Garrus started, “you think she was hitting on me?”

For a moment Shepard’s smile almost looked strained, but it vanished before he could be sure as she sighed dramatically and pushed off the wall. For a second she was flush against Garrus, making his breath catch in his throat and sending a bolt of desire straight to his cock, but then she just brushed by him, hopping out of the shower and wrapping herself in a towel.

“She was definitely hitting on you,” she continued, as though nothing had happened, “she even gave me her number to give to you.”

Garrus let out a breath of frustration, but secretly relished the teasing as he followed her out of the shower and back into the main bedroom.

“No she didn’t,” he insisted, “you’re making this up.”

“Swear to god,” Shepard insisted, rifling through her nightstand and pulling out an Afterlife napkin.

She passed it over to him, her wet fingers eating away at the corners of the paper but not yet blurring the little string of numbers written in loopy, black ink next to the name ‘Sarah’. There was another number too, and another name; ‘Ameera’, and Garrus felt that roiling, heavy jealousy sink into the pit of his stomach again.

“You didn’t give this to me,” he pointed out.

She snorted, having settled on the bed and now roughly towel drying her hair, “I was going to, but you were fairly, shall we say, preoccupied when you arrived here. Either way, I’m giving it to you now.”

Shepard was right, when he’d shown up at her cabin he’d barely given her time to say ‘come in’ before he was slipping his tongue into her mouth and dragging his talons down her sides, but he wasn’t in the mood to be reasonable and fair.

“Seems like I’m not the only one with an admirer,” he pointed out, “you-uh-you gonna call this Ameera person?”

Shepard shrugged, an inscrutable look on her face, “I hadn’t given it much thought, really,” she said, “seems like a big risk with everything going on. Plus,” she smiled at him, “I’m not sure I’m really looking for anything else right now.”

Garrus barely heard her.

His own jealousy was pounding in his head and, before he could think it through, he heard himself say, “You should. It would be nice to finally get a break from being the person in charge of keeping you satisfied. Maybe we should do a double date.”

She didn’t respond for a long time, just holding his gaze as something he couldn’t identify flickered across her face. Hurt maybe? Embarrassment? Whatever it was, it made Garrus feel like an ass, but he was still riding too high on pride and jealousy to admit he may have crossed a line.

“Is that what you want?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Garrus replied immediately, the lie coming easier than he had expected, “the blonde-” he checked her name on the tissue, “Sarah, was cute. Plus, we could use a night out, right?”

Shepard didn’t meet his eye, moving to her wardrobe and pulling on clothes, “Sure. You set it up with Sarah and I’ll call Ameera,” she said simply.

Garrus knew he’d messed up somewhere. The way Shepard was moving was mechanical, militaristic, the way she stripped down and armored up before missions rather than the lazy, teasing way she tended to get dressed when they were together. She didn’t try to look at or talk to him. She didn’t suggest that he get dressed, or tell him to leave, but he felt like he should anyway.

“Yeah, I-uh-” Garrus cleared his throat, slowly starting to pull his own clothes on, “I’ll do that. Is there anywhere on Omega you particularly want to go, or anything you want to do?”

Shepard shrugged with one shoulder, still not really looking at him as she buttoned up her pajama top, “Whatever you want, Garrus. You know Omega better than I do. Maybe ask Sarah.”

Ouch. Yeah, okay, he was definitely being dismissed. He wanted to take all this back, slip back into their little bubble of post-coital bliss, but he didn’t know how to. He wasn’t even sure what exactly had happened, but it was clear that he had shattered something delicate.

He stood, moving behind her and gently wrapping his arms around her waist. If she had been Turian, this would have been an explicitly sexual move, but he knew it wasn’t the same for humans. Still, he kept his touch gentle, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her head. Shepard froze, letting out a small breath, but otherwise did not react at all. Reluctantly, Garrus let go.

“Goodnight, Shepard.” he said, hoping she could hear the apology in his voice.

She gave him a weak, half-hearted smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, “Night, Garrus.”

And as the door slid shut between them, leaving Garrus to make his way slowly to the crew quarters on his own, he couldn’t help but marvel that, this time, it was his mouth, not his heart, that was ruining a good thing.

—

As it turned out, Sarah was very sweet, very talkative and very boring. She seemed thrilled to be out with a Turian and especially one so handsome and rugged looking she kept reminding him. She had been so enthusiastic about the date when he called that it had actually made Garrus think that maybe it hadn’t been a terrible, impulsive mistake brought on by his own immaturity but, 20 minutes in and Garrus was already wondering if he could fake a Normandy emergency and bail. He was nervous and hyper alert, not out of a desire to have the date go well, but because he knew that Shepard and Ameera would be arriving any minute. Shepard, gentlewomen that she was, had insisted on picking Ameera up from her apartment and walking her to the place Garrus had selected, suggesting to Garrus that this would give them both time to get to know their dates one-on-one before all joining up for drinks.

Garrus had selected a hole-in-the-wall place where they played live music, but people could still have a conversation. They served good drinks for cheap and, with how dull Sarah was, Garrus was taking full advantage. Consequently, by the time Sarah squealed out a greeting and jumped up to hug the incoming guests, Garrus had already developed a bit of a buzz.

Which was a mistake.

He took one look at Shepard, saw her arm strung carelessly around Ameera’s waist, met her eyes and-spirits alive, what the fuck was he thinking? This whole thing was a fucking terrible idea. She looked good. More than good, she looked ravishing. She had wrapped her soft, curvy frame in a black dress that left very little to the imagination. Her shoulders were bare, the dress’ long sleeves falling down her upper arms in a way that screamed casual elegance. Her hair was styled so that it all fell over her left shoulder in soft waves. Her eyes were lined with black, her lips painted a deep blood red that he longed to smudge against her skin with his thumb. Worst of all, her waist was wrapped in something - a corset, the functional part of his brain supplied - which had been tightened to accentuate her already mesmerizing figure. He hadn’t even known she owned a corset. He also noticed, with a rush of possessiveness, that she had covered his bite mark with makeup. That wouldn’t do, a feral part of him whispered, that wouldn’t do at all.

When their eyes met the world went quiet for a moment. Nothing else existed. No one else mattered, just Garrus and Shepard. His Shepard. He wanted to pull her close and bury his head in her hair. He wanted to kiss that red lipstick right off her, he wanted to see it smeared across his chest plates as she trailed her lips along his torso and-

She looked away, smiling as Sarah - his actual date - jumped up and pulled her into a hug and the moment ended. Sound and movement returned to the world and Garrus found himself awkwardly greeting Ameera and doing the classic ‘haha, aren’t humans so strange with their random acts of public affection’ shtick as their dates talked and he tried to convince his body to calm down.

Ameera seemed nice, if a bit cool with him, her eyes flicking to Shepard with an air of possessiveness that he understood better than most. He almost wanted to laugh at the way the Asari kept a hand on her at all times, angling her body so that she was between Shepard and Sarah, as though Sarah was the threat rather than Garrus, whose genital plates were embarrassingly loose just from looking at Shepard.

“Sorry we’re late,” Shepard sighed, “the walk took a little longer than I had anticipated.”

“We got lost,” Ameera gushed, squeezing Shepard’s arm, “just too busy talking I suppose.”

Yeah right, Garrus thought to himself. How do you live on Omega and get lost on a walk? Still, he gritted his teeth and smiled.

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Sarah assured, “Garrus and I were having a lovely chat.”

Shepard’s eyes flicked to him, as though looking for his confirmation, and he forced himself to agree, “Yeah, glad you took your time.”

He ushered the new couple into the booth he had picked out and was immediately confronted by another unwitting mistake. He had picked a small circular booth that was far enough away from the stage to facilitate talking and private enough that no one was likely to notice the famous Commander Shepard. This meant that, when they all took their seats, and with Ameera insisting on being between her date and Sarah, Garrus found himself next to Shepard rather than across from her. He had been preparing to be across from her. As it was, her bare thigh was pressed against his leg, their torsos mere inches apart as they settled in. His breath caught in his throat and he was immensely grateful that no one at the table could register sub harmonics. There was a moment of tense silence.

“So, what’s everyone drinking?” Shepard asked, breaking the awkwardness with her casual, easy charm.

Conversation restarted, flowing more easily than he had feared, even as every nerve in his body seemed focussed on the tantalising pressure of Shepard’s leg against his own. This was going to be a long, long night.

—

By the time they slipped out of the bar Garrus had picked out, Shepard was wrecked. The constant scrape of his leg against hers, his voice so close to her ear, rumbling through her like a rockslide, the tension between them and the steady stream of drinks had left her feeling strung out and jittery. Ameera had, luckily, interpreted it as nerves. She had agreed to let Shepard walk her home which both made Shepard very happy and Garrus seemingly very unhappy. He had flared his mandibles in a way that, to her, read as aggression, but that Ameera seemed unphased by when she’d suggested it. Whatever it had meant, the sight had reminded Shepard of what it felt like to run her tongue along that mandible, how he moaned and sighed her name when she followed her tongue with her teeth and bit down on the soft skin of his jaw. The corset had been a dig. Honestly, her whole outfit had been a dig, and she was mortified to discover that she was the one suffering, not him.

The whole night had been a disaster. From the second she had arrived and seen that little blonde all over Garrus, she had known that there was no way this would work. No amount of friendship and desire to be the best companion to Garrus she could be could override her natural inclination to lose her shit when someone came for her man.

Not that Garrus was actually her man, she reminded herself. They weren’t anything, really. Just friends helping one another scratch an itch. They were like sparring partners, just naked sparring partners. That had been the agreement, casual, no attachments or obligations, just pure sex. She had thought she could handle doing things the Turian way but seeing Garrus with Sarah had felt like an omniblade to the gut. She was a soldier, she knew she could push her feelings down and put on a brave face but it was clear that their arrangement had to end, and sooner rather than later. How to tell Garrus that without revealing that she tripped and fallen into having a seismic, friendship ruining crush on him would be something she worked out later. Right now she just had to get through the night and make it back to her cabin so she could sob her eyes out in peace.

Right at that moment Ameera snapped her out of her sulking by squeezing her waist, and Shepard felt a pang of guilt. She really was lovely and charming, if a bit possessive. If things had been different-if Shepard could be different, then maybe-

“This is mine,” Ameera sighed, stopping outside the door.

There was a moment where Shepard wasn’t sure what to do.

“Well, I’ll-uh-oh!”

Before she could finish, Ameera had backed her up against a streetlamp and kissed her. Shepard froze for a second but then thought, fuck it. Ameera’s lips were soft, so much more like a human’s than Garrus’ and, as she slid her hands up into Shepard’s hair, she couldn’t help but sigh. Ameera definitely knew what she was doing. Her tongue, so short and smooth, teased Shepard’s bottom lip, asking for entrance, which Shepard granted instinctively. Ameera’s body was soft and forgiving where it pressed against her own, her hands were gentle and familiar as they carded through Shepard’s hair. It was nice. It was simple and all Shepard could think about was Garrus. When they broke apart, breathless, and panting, Ameera’s eyes were bright and sparkling and Shepard felt sick with wanting, sick with needing something she knew Ameera couldn’t give.

“Do you-do you want to come up?” she asked.

Shepard bit her lip, her mind and body warring with one another for a moment before she forcibly took a step back and shook her head, “Thank you for a lovely evening, Ameera.”

The Asari looked disappointed for a moment, but didn’t push, letting Shepard slip away into the night without insisting she call again. It was a relief. As the cold air bit into her skin, Shepard finally felt her head start to clear. Desire still pounded through her like a kick drum, but she could at least order her thoughts into something resembling coherence. The walk back to the Normandy’s docking station was long, long enough for Shepard to start planning the conversation she would have to have with Garrus sometime in the coming days. It broke her heart to even consider severing the connection they had been building. In all her years of service, no one had ever understood her the way Garrus did. No one had ever made her feel safer or more comfortable, no one could pull her out of her head and back into her body the way he could. He was her best friend, but he needed something she couldn’t give him and, as much as she wanted to cling to what they had, she had to love him enough to let him go.

EDI welcomed her back to the ship, which was silent and empty at this time of night. She took a deep breath, letting the familiar surroundings sooth her fraying nerves. She wondered if Garrus had even come back to the Normandy. Had Sarah made him the same offer Ameera had given Shepard? Had he accepted? She stepped into the elevator, torturing herself by imagining Sarah and Garrus tangled up together, his hands on her hips, her head thrown back as he tasted her neck. No awkward learning phase for them. No, Garrus knew how to pleasure human women now. At least she’d helped with that, she thought bitterly.

The elevator dinged, opening on the door to her cabin and Shepard sighed with relief, desperate to wash this horrific night off her as soon as possible. She stepped inside, catching a glimpse of herself reflected in the glass of the fishtank. At least she looked good. Kasumi had talked her into buy this dress on their last trip to the Citadel, she had to remember to-

“Garrus,” she said, shocked to find him sitting on the edge of her bed, holding his head with his elbows resting on his knees.

He looked up, his blue eyes dark with something that made her skin tingle, and let out a breath of his own, standing and making his way towards her quickly.

“Shepard,” he replied, his voice dripping with relief and some other emotion she couldn’t identify as he gripped her waist with one hand and cupped her face with the other. He brought his head down, resting his forehead against hers, “I wasn’t sure you were coming back.”

“I wasn’t sure you were coming back,” she replied, trying for a light tone and failing miserably, “Sarah seemed really into you.”

He growled, his hand tightening on her waist, “Fuck Sarah. Shepard, this whole night was-”

“I can’t do this anymore, Garrus,” she said quickly, forcing the words out before the comfort of his presence shook her resolve, “I’m sorry, I thought I could but I-” she detangled the bodies, taking half a step back and crossing her arms over her chest, “I just can’t.”

He looked like she had slapped him and Shepard felt her heart break just a little more at the confusion in his face.

“You can’t-what?” he asked, stepping towards her again, one arm still outstretched as though to hold her, “I don’t understand.”

Shepard was mortified to find that tears were pricking at the corners of her eyes and threatening to spill over and she tried to force them back with sheer willpower.

“I’m not a Turian,” she eventually said with a rueful laugh, “I thought I could handle sleeping with you and you sleeping with other people, but I can’t, alright? I’m a stupid fucking sentimental human and I just can’t have you all to myself at night and then watch you cozy up to other women during the day. It’s too hard, I can’t do it.”

Well, fuck. That was not what she had practiced. What happened to ‘the good of the mission’ and ‘too busy’ and ‘need to start getting more sleep’? She had so many lines prepared that didn’t boil down to ‘love me, love me, love me’ and that is what came out of her mouth? She felt vulnerable and exposed, like a bug under a microscope. All her ugliness was on display, all her insecurity, her jealousy, her weakness. She hated it. Every instinct told her she needed to bolt, but she felt like she was anchored to the ground, held in place by Garrus’s eyes on her, heavy and dark with expectation.

He was quiet for a long time before he let out a bark of harsh laughter, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“What?”

He did grab her now, pulling her hips against his as he continued, “You think I want anyone else? You think I haven’t been going out of my fucking mind waiting for you to come back, just praying-praying, Shepard-that you weren’t off falling in love with that Asari somewhere?” His voice was frantic, words spilling out like water from a faucet that had been opened too wide. She opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out and Garrus just continued, “Every time that woman touched you I wanted to rip her arm off.” he traced her lips with one of his talons, his eyes flicking between following the path of his finger and holding her own, “Did you really think that coming home to me with your lipstick smudged, smelling like some other woman wouldn’t drive me insane?”

God almighty he was sexy when he was angry. She knew there were things she needed to unpack, feelings that needed discussing when the waves of relief stopped cresting over her, but all that seemed to matter was that Garrus wanted her. Garrus wanted her. Not just someone to take the edge off, but her specifically. He had been waiting for her, not just because he knew she was someone he could fuck, but because he was worried, he was jealous, he was hoping she would come back to him. It was almost too good to be true.

“You said this was what you wanted,” she pushed back, feeling the hot flame of desire pulse through her “I asked-I asked you, Garrus.”

“I lied!” he replied, “I was insecure and jealous and I lied. I’m a terrible Turian, Shepard, you know this. I haven’t wanted anyone but you since-since-” his voice trailed off and he squeezed her waist, suddenly shy.

No, no, no, she thought to herself, you’re not getting away from me this time. She slid her hands up his torso, letting her fingers graze the soft skin of his lower back in the way that made his muscles clench. He bit back a moan and she felt her body respond in kind.

“Since when?” she asked breathlessly.

“Shepard-”

“Tell me,” she insisted, “you made me sit through three hours of drinks while watching Sarah’s hand climb steadily up your thigh, you owe me.”

“You showed up dressed like this,” he countered, his left hand dragging over the corset’s boning, “we’re even.”

“Garrus,” she warned.

He sighed, “Omega. The moment I saw you through my scope.”

“You shot me,” she reminded him, her whole body flooding with warmth.

He let out a breath of laughter, “You were taking your sweet time. I needed you to-” he sighed, leaning in and nuzzling into the crook of her neck, “I needed you.”

“That’s a long time to wait,” she said.

He let out a shaking, shuddering breath, “You have no idea.”

“Oh, yeah?” she teased, hooking her fingers under his jaw and gently forcing him to meet her eye, “try me.”

She pulled him close, pressing her lips to his and pouring every ounce of pent up loneliness and confusion and jealousy into him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him, sighing when he immediately returned her affection in kind. God, how could she ever have doubted that this man wanted her? How could she not have assumed that they were in this together, the way they had been in everything else together? His hands wrapped around her back, toying with the ribbons of her corset before sliding down to grip her ass. His tongue scraped against her teeth and she could feel his groin plates shifting to make space for his cock to press against her stomach. His body was hard and unforgiving beneath her, his hands were sharp where they dug into her skin. They were incompatible, two people that evolution had never meant to meet and yet all she could think as he moved his mouth down her neck was yes, yes, yes.

He was alien, but he was completely hers and, as his reverent touch grew harsher and more frantic, she knew they would fight like hell to get back to each other, come what may. Garrus nipped at her neck, backing her up against the fishtank as his hands travelled past her ass to the back of her thighs. She whimpered as the coolness of the tank against her back clashed with the sharpness of his talons scraping against her soft skin. Her core was aching. She bucked into his hips, chasing a friction she knew he wouldn’t provide until he was good and ready, but relishing the deep groan it pulled out of him anyway as she pressed herself against his dick.

“Garrus-” she breathed.

He ignored her, engrossed in his task of lavishing the column of her throat and cleavage with attention. As his tongue dragged across the skin of her breasts, which were pushed up and on display thanks to the corset, his talons continued their exploration of her thighs, moving from just below the curve of her ass, down and around until they were toying with the skin just below the hem of her skirt. He loved teasing her this way, only applying enough pressure to make her skin dimple and keep her painfully aware of how slowly he was moving.

“I swear, Garrus, if you rip my dress-” she started.

He chuckled and she flushed at the edge of desperation in his voice, “No, this dress should be put in a museum. It’s a cultural artifact. It’’l be the prosecution’s smoking gun when they find me dead tomorrow morning. No, there will be no ripping of the dress.”

Instead he merely slipped one of his hands beneath the hem, making her whine as he trailed his talons along her inner thigh, up, up, up-

She could hear his voice catching as he teased her, alternating between gripping her skin with his fingers and using his talons to hold her attention on the growing need between her legs. Garrus had a terrible habit of making her beg but, with the way his mandibles were flaring, his breath shaky and barely contained, she knew she wouldn’t have to wait long. She tilted his face up to hers, taking a second to press her lips to the mangled scar that covered so much of his right mandible. It was a small tenderness, a self-indulgent reminder that he was real, that he was there, that, despite the odds, he had survived. She loved that damn scar. She loved it more than anything else in the world even if she would never say it, but maybe he knew. Maybe he knew and that’s why it was that kiss that made his fragile resolve crack right down the middle.

Garrus made a sound that was half curse, half groan and there was the sound of ripping. Shepard felt her nice underwear slip down her thighs, completely wrecked and a pleasurable knot of anticipation coiled in her abdomen. She opened her mouth to say something sardonic and witty but it caught in her throat and became a gasp when he plunged two of his fingers into her heat. His fingers were long and thick, two of them at once, especially with no build up, sent a shock of that delicious pain that bordered on pleasure through her. She was tight, too tight. She could vaguely hear him whispering praises in her ear about that, telling her how badly he wanted to feel her clench around his cock, but it was all senseless noise dissolving into the feeling of fullness, the completeness of his fingers inside her, just gently brushing that spot that made her feel like she was dying. It was astonishing how wet she was, how immediately ready her body was to stretch to accommodate him, how much of a relief it was to have him fill her again, but he wouldn’t move. She needed him to fuck her with those fingers, but he held them still, forcing her to feel every inch of her body stretching to make room for him.

“F-oh god, fuck, Garrus-” she breathed, instinctively gripping his wrist as she stretched around his fingers.

He growled and kissed her hard, pressing his third finger to her clit, rubbing tight, soft little circles around it in that way that made her thighs tremble. His tongue in her mouth, the ice cold glass against her inflamed skin, his fingers inside her, her clit sending shockwaves of pleasure through every nerve in her body as his thumb traced it relentlessly, it was too much. It was always too much, but he didn’t stop because he knew how badly she wanted this, how much she craved the clashing sensations, how she needed him to take her apart completely before she could put herself back together again. He moved his mouth to her ear, sucking a dark bruise onto the skin at the corner of her jaw, timed perfectly to coincide with him thrusting his fingers into her. Her hips bucked, chasing the friction and she looked down.

“Oh, fuck,” she groaned.

There was something so goddamn hot about seeing Garrus’ hand beneath her skirt with the soft fabric bunched up over his forearm. She could just barely make out his fingers moving inside of her, so private and mysterious while her whole body melted into his touch. It was obscene. It was fucking holy. It was-

Garrus picked up his pace and her brain short circuited. Her head fell back against the fishtank, eyes fluttering shut as she sighed and moaned, her cunt clenching around his fingers as he wound her tighter and tighter, until she felt like she was about to snap. He was whispering praises into her ear that her translator couldn’t understand, but all that she registered was the sound of his voice. That voice, wrecked with wanting, strained like he was struggling to keep himself together as he brought her closer and closer to her peak. That voice that had always kept her sane, that had been driving her mad all evening, washing over her like a river. It was so perfectly Garrus, so she kissed him. She kissed him because she couldn’t think, couldn’t talk, couldn’t breathe while he fucked her open with his fingers. She kissed him because she needed more, and because her lipstick just looked so damn good on his skin and he moaned her name, his cock hard and throbbing where it pressed against her hip. She bucked into him again, grinding against his fingers as the coil inside her tightened and tightened and tightened until he crooked his fingers up and pressed them against that place inside her that made everything go white. It was good, and then it was really good and then it was better and then-oh god, fuck, fuck, yes, oh god, just like that, fuck-

She arched her back and cried out something broken and desperate as she came hard against his fingers, trembling and clenching around him as the aftershocks tore through her. He fucked her through it, his fingers moving more and more slowly as she came down from the high, his voice a constant soothing presence in her ear. When he kissed her next it was gentle, relieved even.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, pressing kisses to the side of her neck.

“And I’m yours,” she breathed, “just yours.”

She felt him react to that, his hips involuntarily bucking into her as he groaned. She smiled wickedly, pushing him back towards the bed. It was going to be a long, long night.

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