#weird ass fuckers. caught feelings but would rather die than admit that

[panicbones]

i think cywhirl should be studied in a lab

[gotnofucks]

Lover’s Quarrel

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Summary: You have the powers to resurrect if you’ve been murdered, and a jealous Steve Rogers indulges heavily in your abilities. He would not let you steal his best friend, that was for sure. So what, if your rivalry regularly caused fire and harm to public property? You just couldn’t let the other win. 

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: Smut, enemies to lovers, violence, killings and murders (but reader cannot die, it’s weird. She has some sorta powers that help her revive when she’s been murdered), language, 18+ ONLY

A/N: Is this crack fic? Idk. Maybe?

The sixth time Steve killed you, you decided he needed to be dealt with in a similar way. It doesn’t matter that he cannot come back from the dead like you. He just needed to go. You were tired of him offing you every time he felt threatened by your existence. But this was the last straw. He had pushed you off the Quinjet while flying home from a mission and you’d fallen into the lake and drowned. You would NOT recommend dying that way.

Bucky had dragged out your dead body and watched over you as the blessing of the necromancer worked its magic over you and brought you back to the world of the living. The first words out of your mouth as you spewed out water were, “I am going to kill your best friend and you can’t be mad at me for that.”

Bucky, far too happy to have you back – poor guy still mourned every time you died – ignored your comment and pulled you into a hug. He’d never quiet gotten used to seeing you die. You patted his back, muttering a few there-there’s until he was calm enough to press quivering kisses on your head and temple.

“You need to stop dying.” He said into your hair, holding you close.

“I would not be dying if your best friend didn’t murder me every time! He is a menace, Buck!” You cried in exasperation. The said best friend was watching you from a few yards away, and he rolled his eyes as your words reached him. He scoffed loud enough for you to hear and you sharply turned your head to glare at him.

“You!” You shouted, quickly standing up and marching over to him. “You rascal!” And then you pried out your wet shoe from your feet and threw it at his stunned face. Unfortunately, it didn’t hit his face but smacked against his chest, leaving the wet print of your soles against his far too tight t-shirt. He gaped at you open mouthed before baring his teeth in warning.

“Oh god, every time you come alive again, you’re even more awful than before!” Steve shouted, and then just because he is fucking drama queen, he threw out his hands. You sneered before turning to look at Bucky meaningfully, the most obvious ‘see what a dick he is’ look on your face.

Bucky shuffled uneasily, caught between your quarrel once again. He came behind you and gave you his jacket to wear to shield you from the cold. And just like that, your anger melted a little. Somehow, with his steel blue eyes, Bucky Barnes could sooth every wound you’d ever had. Even those given to you by Steve Rogers.

“I am so sorry. I should have seen what he was about to do. I wouldn’t have ever let you fall had I known.” He apologized and you swore your heart physically quivered. You pulled Bucky into a hug, hiding your face in his chest, savoring his arms coming around you to hold you tighter. You could have stayed in his embrace forever, but it was an annoyed groan that ripped you both apart.

“Is there any way you can stay dead a little longer?” Steve asked, breaking your moment. “I mean, I’ve tired a bullet and knife and water and poison. What can I do that you’d be gone for just a little longer?”

He was worked up, a red flush creeping on his face and neck. Pacing, he was muttering, and you wondered for the millionth time how Bucky could be friends with him. He was just so extra! You wanted to tell him to shove a stick up his ass, along with the one already there when he turned swiftly like the wind and threw a dagger at you. A metal hand caught it before it could hit you and you were pulled into the warmth of Bucky’s body quickly.

“Steve! Cut it out.” Bucky yelled, glaring at Steve. “You will not kill her again. I don’t care if she can come back alive again. You won’t hurt her.”

With that, he dropped the dagger on the ground and walked away with you. Unable to resist, you looked over you shoulder and flipped Steve off. Fucker could kill you a hundred times and yet he would not be able to do anything. As far as you were concerned, Bucky was as much your best friend as his. And if Steve Rogers couldn’t control his jealousy without trying to behead you every time he felt you were stealing Bucky from him, you would just have to make his death look like an accident.

“I don’t think I need to tell you that you can’t kill him either?” Bucky said teasingly, his eyes soft and fond. “I need you both to survive.”

You groaned, bumping your shoulder in his and snuggling into him as a cold breeze hit your wet clothes. He could read you like an open book.

“You are no fun Barnes.”

There was rubble and fires and shrieks. Natasha was yelling in Russian as she ran about with a fire extinguisher and Clint crawled out of his vents to help Bruce out who was turning a dangerous shade of green. Tony was sitting in the ruins of his kitchen, his mouth half open as he spied on the ensuing battle in the middle of it.

Sam was using his shield to push Steve away who was shouting curses that had probably not been invented yet. Bucky was holding you back by your middle, yelling in your ear to calm the fuck down but all you could think of to do was smacking Steve’s face with that chair that was currently on fire. You suppose once everyone was calm, you’d feel guilty about your part in destroying the Avengers kitchen but right now that wasn’t important.

What was important was that Steve had tried to kill you. Again. He had actually thrown a fucking grenade at you. You barely had the time to kick it away where it exploded in the kitchen and then Steve was on you, calling you a bitch in all the 9 languages he knew.

“Calm the hell down, Steve!” Sam yelled, struggling to keep Steve at bay from you. You were glad to see that Steve’s nose was busted. That will teach the bastard to ‘look down his nose’ on you now.

“She pierced my ears! The fucking bitch pierced my goddamn ears!” Steve yelled. Even you had to admit, the golden hoops looked amazing dangling from his ears. Just perfect.

“You are lucky I didn’t stick a knitting needle in your eye Rogers!” You sassily replied, “The only reason you’re still in one piece is because I promised my best friend that I wouldn’t hurt you.”

The muscles in Steve’s arms tensed and Sam groaned, barely keeping his own footing. A dark shadow seemed to have crawled over Steve’s face, turning the blues of his eyes an angry shade and had you been a weaker person, you would have trembled. This was the face of someone who had stood against armies alone and came out victorious. But for all you cared, he could kiss your ass.

“He is MY best friend. Mine. Not yours, not anyone else’s. Bucky Barnes is mine and I will kill you a thousand times until it sinks in your thick skull!” Steve growled. You scowled, a scathy remark bubbling on the tip of your tongue when you suddenly stopped. Why say when you can show? So, looking Steve directly in the eyes, you went limp in Bucky’s arms, turned around and cupped his face. And then you kissed his cheek.

Steve let out a strangled cry behind you, but you focused on Bucky who was blinking in disbelief at your audacity. And so, just for the heck of it, you kissed his other cheek. And then his forehead.

“Bucky Barnes, you are my best friend and always will be!” You said, hugging the life out of him. You heard Steve break away from Sam, heard Bucky yell out a curse and holding you protectively as his jealous pal came rushing to claim him. And all through that and the chaos that ensued later, you just smiled broadly.

Tony was giving a lecture, and he sucked. He gesticulated too much for your liking, and you really didn’t like how he kept emphasizing things by looking pointedly at you. It wasn’t even that much of a big deal, and even if it was, it was not your fault. Like every other time, the only person who could be held responsible was the blond super soldier sitting beside you, wearing the same shade of annoyance on his face as yours.

“I repeat” said Tony, his hair askew, “we do not use Friday to settle idiotic, absolutely ridiculous personal vendettas!”

“You have Friday tell you how pretty you look every day!�� You countered and Tony slammed his hand on the table.

“Because I am!” He huffed. “You, on the other hand, stopped a mission in the middle to ask Friday who had a higher score! I mean, what the actual fuck? And what score?”

Steve had the decency to look at least a little sheepish. You however didn’t put up with any of that nonsense. It was his idea anyway, and you wouldn’t take the fall for him. Not when Tony looked murderous like this.

“Rogers bet me he’d take down more enemies than me. We only asked Friday to keep a count. I had literally nothing to do with it.”

Tony turned the ire of his glare at Steve who was too busy giving you a dirty look. He was just pissed you won, and that Bucky had spent the entire ride back tending to your wounds rather than Steve’s. It wasn’t your fault his jealous ass always threw a fit whenever he saw you and Bucky together.

“You said the team could use Friday as we saw fit.” Steve said, though he did look a little guilty. It wasn’t like him to lose command and control. Even when he’d been Captain America, he had never let anything rattle him. Not until you had come prancing in his life and stealing his best friend.

“I said the team could use Friday, not stop everything in the middle of a high risk mission to see who has a bigger dick.” Tony said, and then he just collapsed in his chair. Poor guy had been working too hard to carry the team forward, and in that moment, even you felt guilty. Your rivalry with Steve shouldn’t have to affect everyone else, not when they had been so welcoming and loving to you ever since you joined.

You walked over to Tony and dropped a kiss on his head, caressing his hair. “I am sorry Tones. You won’t have more trouble from me.”

Tony looked at you as if seeing an angel. He looked at you as if you were the solution to all his troubles. Despite every furniture of his you’d broken and set fire to, he was so grateful to have one sane voice between them. Cupping your hands, he looked imploringly at you and asked, “Really? You’re gonna stop fighting with Steve?”

At that, you solemnly nodded and patted his hand gently. Poor him and the poor team going through hell because you and Steve couldn’t settle your differences. It was obvious what had to be done.

“Of course I will” You said magnanimously, because of course you were the better of the two. “Steve just needs to find another best friend and there won’t be any reason to fight anymore.”

If any of them had been drinking water, they would have spit it out. Since they didn’t, they just kind of choked on their saliva and sputtered at you in absolute disbelief. Tony actually looked betrayed and Steve seemed to have licked a lemon, if the look on his face was anything to go by.

“She” He said, voice thick with contempt, “needs to go away. We can launch her in outer space or somewhere from where she can never return. You know why? Because Bucky is my best friend. Since we were yay high!” And he raised his arms a foot off the ground to show just how high.

And just like that, the moment was gone. Rogers opened his mouth and any goodwill you had had went poof. So, you did the only reasonable thing any sane person would do right now and that was to flip him off and call him a pig. You knew he was inching to strangle you; you could see his fingers twitch. A part of you was anticipating it, for Bucky would never forgive him for killing you again. Just as he would have lunged at you, push Tony out of the way and did you away for good, Bucky burst into the room with the expression of a cantankerous 100 year old grandpa who had had enough with the world.

“For fucks sake! Just shut up you both!” He yelled and paced the room. His eyes were bloodshot and hair disheveled, a clear sign that your rivalry was taking a heavy toll on him. Steve opened his mouth to say something when Bucky raised a finger to shush him. “No no no! You listen to me you oblivious, utter moronic fucklets!”

Your mouth dropped open. Bucky never cursed at you. He had never called you a fucklet before.

“You two need to stop. You hear me? You need to STOP!” He raked a hand through his hair before kicking the ground in frustration. “I can’t eat. I can’t sleep! I can’t fucking breathe without you both arguing over who is a better friend to me. So, here’s an idea. Instead of fucking me over in the middle of your sexual tension, why don’t you find a room and fuck each other? Because I tell you now, I cannot fucking take it!”

Silence sat pregnant in the room. You blinked at Bucky. Steve blinked at Bucky. Tony blinked at Bucky. And Bucky didn’t blink at all.

“That – uh – what?” You said, eloquent as ever. “That is so stupid.” And you laughed awkwardly.

Steve glanced at you and then stammered, “What? That – I haven’t – that has nothing to do with it. She and I – what?”

You both found each other’s eye, quickly looked away and just became silent. The tension in the air was suffocating you, and a terrible heat was settling in your stomach. Without another word, you walked out of the room, muttering about how ridiculous the whole idea was. The three men watched your exit, and a moment later, Steve left too, still very much in disbelief.

Tony and Bucky sighed, sitting across from each other and just taking in the fact that the elephant in the room had finally been address. A moment later, Tony began drumming on the desk, looking up at the ceiling.

“I couldn’t have put it any better myself.”

You felt antsy, as if staying one more moment in your room would drive you mad. You kept jerking your legs and arms, a weird restlessness in every action of yours. What the hell was Bucky saying? The sheer nerve to imply that you…you and Steve had some sort of feelings for each other. You hadn’t heard that kinda crap since you nursed your nephew who’d had diarrhea.

The only reason you and Steve fought was because you wanted Bucky. He was supposed to be your best friend, and clearly it was his inability to decide who he preferred more that had led you here. And to pretend, on top of that, that it was you who was at fault was just ridiculous. As if you’d touch Steve Rogers with a ten foot pole.

But…would you? You suppose he couldn’t be that bad to touch. He did have gorgeous eyes that got all dark and dilated when he fought with you. And his breath hitched when you got him mad and he bit his lip to stop from cursing you and he flushed a very becoming shade of red that started from his cheeks and disappeared down the neckline on his tight shirts that –

Holy fuck!

The realization rocked your world. What the hell? When you thought about it again, it seemed as if you’d just described Steve being aroused. Did you really fight him and got him mad to stimulate yourself? Oh god. Bucky was right. You wanted to fuck Steve.

This wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all. You quickly changed into your work out gear and rushed to the gym, intent on sweating out whatever feelings you might have for Steve. After all, nothing says fuck you like imagining someone’s face on a punching bag and just going to town on it. Thankfully, when you arrived the gym was empty.

You’d been working on your stretches for only a few minutes when your worst nightmare entered the gym. He probably had the same idea as you and froze the moment your eyes met. His blue eyes narrowed at you and you stood up straight. You hated Bucky for putting the thought in your head. Now all you could think of was tackling Steve to the ground and fucking him senseless. You still wanted to beat him, but in a very different way.

As Steve entered, his eyes fixed to your form, you decided it was time to leave. After that fiasco in front of Tony, you didn’t think yourself capable of talking to Steve. Staying alone with him was something you didn’t trust yourself with. So you picked up your bag and started for the door when his voice stopped you.

“Running away? Am I to believe that there is something that finally scares you?”

Anger, red hot anger simmered under your veins when you turned to face him again. He had a mocking smirk on his face that made you grit your teeth. His eyes, dark and challenging beckoned you to him, but they didn’t hold resentment there either. Something between you had changed today. The very air around you was different, thick with tension and apprehension that had your nerves tingling.

“Scared?” You scoffed, dropping your bag on the matted floor and walking until you stood right before him. He towered over you in height, but he’d never been able to actually look down at you. “Me, scared of you? You wish Rogers.”

One corner of his lips lifted up, and he put his hands on you. One hand hooked around your waist and pulled you closer, the other trailing a finger down the side of your face to your neck, following the path down your arm until his fingers intertwined with yours.

“Oh, I so do wish” He whispered and his lips met yours. You rose up on your toes, mashing your body against his and mapping the planes of his body with your palms. The smell of his sweat and soap surrounded you, your arms coming to hold him around the shoulders as he hitched you up so you could wrap your legs around him.

Like everything in your relationship, the kiss was explosive. You didn’t melt against each other like people do in books; you collided like two warring armies intent on conquering the other. You collided like night and day, basking your surroundings in the dawn and dusk of your lust. Steve took your bottom lip between his teeth and bit down, smiling as you shamelessly moaned.

“What do you say?” He asked, pushing you against the wall, his hardness digging between the heated center of your legs.

You pulled him closer, letting your lips trail over his jaw and neck before you branded him with a quick bite. “You’ve always been so aggressive Steve, let’s see you let loose some other way. I sure do hope you fuck better than you fight though, or I’ll just be disappointed.”

Steve growled, kissing you again as he ground his cock against you, trapping you between the wall and his hard body that prevented any escape. Your hands slipped under his t-shirt, meeting the firm muscles on his abdomen that rippled under you. He pulled back just enough to allow you to remove your clothes, his own being flung sideways without any care.

Even before, you’d never thought of Steve as anything but beautiful, but now, seeing him in all his glory, you could only look him up and down in appreciation. He was trembling slightly, as if holding himself back with effort, his eyes not leaving you for a second. You both looked at each other, naked and unashamed before frantically coming together. His hands were everywhere, squeezing your ass and thighs as his lips pulled at your breast.

Your fingers rolled his nipples softly until he moaned, and then you pinched them. He jerked under your touch, kicking the back of your knees so you collapsed down, and he covered your body with his. Anger, arousal, lust and longing, all emotions built together in a storm of incoherent desire that had you both rolling over each other, fighting for dominance and power. Steve pinned you down with effort, holding your wrists in one hand over your head as he gave a smug smile to you.

“Will you finally surrender today?” He asked, positioning his cock at your entrance that was drenched. You would have loved to taste him, to have him taste you, but as of now, all you wanted was for him to slide inside you. You hungered for him, burnt for his touch. For years you’d been left wanting, and now with the prize so near, you weren’t about to wait any longer.

“The only surrender today will be yours.” You whispered sweetly before slamming your head against his. Steve jerked hard in surprise, allowing you the opportunity to free your hands and roll over him. You sat on his pelvis proudly, his throbbing member right underneath you and as he blinked at you, stunned, you rose up over his tip and slowly sunk down.

Steve groaned as your wet channel fell like velvet heat along his shaft. You had never been so full before. He stretched your limits, as he had always done, and you decided you very much preferred rendering him speechless like this under you than your usual punches and throws. His hands dug into your waist, helping you bounce on his cock and you threw your head back at the feeling.

It was a beautiful ache, one that took your breath away. As you rolled your hips and clenched down there, Steve’s voice rose in appreciation and you grinned. You finally had the golden boy at your mercy. You fucked him, changing your pace to punish him, never letting him up. For every time he killed you, you bit on his lips and neck, marking him. It was punishment and cherishing, a culmination of feelings you didn’t understand.

“Touch me.” You brokenly said, and his fingers found your nub. The slapping of skin, the sounds of debauchery and the smell of sin filled the air. You leaned over him to meet his lips, the heat in your gut bubbling until you snapped and came atop him, falling blissfully. It was one moment of weakness and the world titled, Steve having finally pushing you on your back.

“You’ve always been strong, because I’d hate to break you when the fun has only just begun.” He said and thrust into you hard and fast. He was an animal in heat, a man possessed, and you didn’t mind one bit. You met his every thrust with a raise of your hips, you clawed at his back until he bled, your lips tasting of the salt of sweat and tears and desire. He brought you impossibly closer, looking right into your eyes as he took you.

For the life of you, you couldn’t look away. You couldn’t get enough of his grunts and moans, of the breathy whispers of your name that slipped between curses, of the way his lashes would flutter over the dark blues that kept your eyes captive. He had you completely in that moment, mind and body; and for some reason, his gaze felt infinitely more intimate than his cock that was currently spearing you open. You keened in pleasure, whimpering as he touched your overly sensitive clit and had you coming again.

A minute later, he twitched inside you, his warmth flooding your core and you sighed. You laid entangled and sweaty, both of you spent and tired and yet completely overtaken by the urge to be closer still. To think this is what you’d both missed for all these years.

“So, what do you say, still feeling aggressive?” Steve asked and you looked at him with a grin that you couldn’t have suppressed had you wanted to. Oh yes, some battles were never meant to end, but they sure could be altered to meet new demands.

“With you? Always.” You replied, kissing him deep until he couldn’t think of anything but you. “Just remember one thing.”

“Oh yeah, what?”

“I am still a better best friend to Bucky. I did fuck you to keep him happy after all.”

Steve frowned darkly and before you could blink, he was over you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I think this time I’d fuck some manners into you.”

“I think this time you should actually put your back into it. I did all the work before.” You taunted and he dived at you.

Meanwhile, in Tony Stark’s office

“Friday, what’s the score?” He asked smugly, offering Bucky the packet of blueberries. Bucky was sitting with his feet on the desk, a small smile on his face.

“I am afraid I am not at a liberty to say Boss.” Friday replied. If the AI could blush, she would.

“Seems like they are at an impasse.” Tony suggested, and Bucky shrugged, licking his lips.

“Well, some things never change.”

[incorrectly-quoted-queers]

Drunk Punch Love: INTERMISSION ARCHANGEL

Pairing: FemShep and Garrus Vakarian (Shakarian)

Rating: PG-13 (with some tossed F-bombs)

Summary: Their awkward, badass journey through saving the galaxy and accidentally falling in love

INTERMISSION ARCHANGEL: The End.

Shepard had been dead 232 days.

Garrus had been going over their new security measures when the apartment's front door pinged. It wasn't a sound he heard often, since all the crew had their own codes to the back door. But the Via siblings were new, and Butler's wife did sometimes stop by, so he figured it was just one of them.

What he didn't expect was a female turian with blue markings to have her arms crossed, looking at him like he just committed a crime. Before he could react, the glare faded and she smiled at him. Garrus' head still wasn't fully straight when she pulled him into her arms.

It only clicked together that this wasn't some damn fever dream when she started talking. "Happy birthday, baby brother!"

Oh. It was that day.

"I'd ask if I surprised you, but I already know I did." The second he shut his door behind him, closing off his vigilante world from his family, that damned brain of hers caught on and she peered at him. "I know you wouldn't have anything planned for your birthday, so what are you hiding?"

If it was his father, he could lie and say a woman and the man would happily walk away from the shut door, uninterested. But Solana was a different beast. She was curious, intrusive, and interested in damn near anything. It would be hard to keep her out of his apartment, lined with guns, gear, and a krogan casing the joint.

Also, she definitely would give him shit for his undecorated bedroom and that was a blast from the past he never wanted to deal with again.

So, his best shot was to go truth adjacent. "There was a break-in on my block. I have a consultant in there retrofitting my place with more security."

"You caring about your own well-being and safety is... new, but I won't complain." Solana snorted and shook her head at him, in her normal well-meaning but condescending way. "Only you would schedule a security consultation on your birthday. Were you going to do anything at all?"

Garrus leaned against his door and tried not to look too pissed off, because Solana knew the answer to that and was really just trying to push his buttons. Sure, that would be a stretch for anyone else, but his big sister? He knew how she operated. Probe for intel and then use that intel to make whatever point she was making infallible. He stuck with, "You know the answer to that."

"Doesn't the fact I know the answer to that speak volumes to the issue at hand?" Dammit. And he thought he said something neutral. Before he could spike back, she added, "It's been three years, Garrus, you're not dancing on mother's grave just because you dare to enjoy your birthday."

Now that one was a funny answer. "Really Sol? That's easy for you to say when she didn't die on yours."

"I've never liked the guilt games you and father play. Just yesterday he was messaging me about how it's his fault you react poorly to death and rebel. But do either of you do anything with that guilt? Because that's progress I'd like to see." Garrus almost laughed, because the one thing close to progress was also the one thing he really didn't want her to see. "Life happens. Death happens. Now, if I remember correctly, I begged for a sibling. So if not for yourself, let's celebrate the happiest day of my four year old life, meeting my little brother."

He wanted to stay mad and indignant, maybe even scare her off. But dammit, he cared too much about Solana for that. Groaning, he pushed off the door and conceded. "Fine, let's go get some food and see a flick or something. You did come all this way to see me."

"You're right, I did, so thank you for appreciating it." She walked forward first and he took the opportunity to cover his tracks. With a flick of his wrist he typed out a quick message to Jawth and Sidonis, asking them to hide the guns and clean up the place before he got back; that his sister came for a surprise visit.

They agreed without asking a single question. Which was good, because he'd rather off himself than tell those assholes what day it was.

Now the real landmine was keeping Solana from looking too deeply into the Archangel rumors. If that caught her interest, he was sure she could figure it out. He didn't expect her to snitch to their father, who would objectively hate what he was doing, but he also didn't know how she'd react.

Garrus just wanted his sister to remain his annoying, inordinately supportive sister. He didn't want that to get complicated.

Somehow, he managed to dodge all Archangel talk the entire time. His most impressive save was pretending to choke on something to be louder than and scare off a guy at the cafe who wouldn't stop talking about his crew and their latest hit. Solana definitely didn't need to hear about "That blue-ass sniper turian."

That was more than enough to get her curious.

When they got to his apartment door, he almost breathed a sigh of relief. They'd made it, all the way back to his place, and she still didn't know. She could spend the night here and then he could send her back off to her life on Palaven, no harm no foul.

But for all his attempts, he'd forgotten one small, terrible little factor.

Sidonis knew who he was, and that man had a lot of contacts.

The second the metal panels slid open, every single one of his team was there, grinning like mad, with a garrish looking cake stuffed with candles. And right in front of his sister, the fuckers yelled, "Happy birthday, Archangel."

There were a lot of times with Shepard he wished to kill a man, but this time, he wanted to kill nine.

Solana just glared at him with a knowing smirk. "I fucking knew you were hiding something!"

Garrus grabbed her arm and took her outside, where all his idiot team wasn't watching. He started talking, fast. "Sol, I-"

"If you say you're sorry, I'll know you're lying." She shook her head. "So you're the infamous merc-killer? Honestly, I should've known. It was probably just wishful thinking." He was too overwhelmed to know what to say to that, but luckily Sol was happy to fill in the blanks. "I won't tell father. He would hate you for doing this. Just don't keep secrets from me, okay? I love you."

"I can give you that."

"Good. Now, why don't we enjoy your party that your team set up?" Before she walked through the door, she squeezed his arm and frowned. A classic Sol look of distaste; last time he saw it, it was when a co-worker of hers tried to ask her on a date because "she had to say yes to someone eventually". If Solana was less composed, he was sure she would've punched him. "I'm not eating that cake, though."

"Don't worry. I would have told you not to."

/

Shepard had been dead 365 days.

All he could see were her eyes. Soft green, always laughing at something. Until she wasn't. But wherever things were good, she was laughing, and hard. Garrus couldn't quite get his head straight, but he hoped he said something funny. More than likely, what actually happened was that he did something awkward and dumb, but that was almost just as good.

When he started scanning the room, he realized they were by one of the observation windows on the Normandy. Despite all the chaos in their lives, they'd taken a moment to look at the stars. He always liked it here. Why'd he never bring her here?

Even when she stopped laughing, she kept smiling. Like she always did after a long day, she pulled her hair out of that tight bun thing and kept on shaking it with her fingers. Sometimes he wondered what it felt like, and not like when he accidently touched it during movie night. Like how she was doing, hands all in.

But it was safe to say that was a bit more than a CO and an ex C-sec officer should be doing.

He wasn't quite sure what he was saying, or why he was saying it, but he told her, "When I look at the stars, I think of you." Garrus wasn't really sure when he got all bold. Maybe it was this haziness he was feeling.

Shepard raised one of her hairy eyebrows at him. "We live in space. On a spaceship. We see stars almost constantly."

Garrus took a step closer to her, sometimes wondering how she got anywhere with how oblivious she could be. And god knows he normally wasn't this smooth but this time, right here, he said what he wanted to. "Exactly my point."

Blinking, it took her a few seconds to register what he said, and she even turned to look up at him. But when their eyes did meet? Hers softened like for once, she finally got it. Her cheeks even did that little blush thing when she was embarrassed. "Oh."

With that look, was like all of his normal discomfort came rushing back, all those feelings that always told him not to say stupid shit like that. He shouldn't have said that, right? All those things she said she felt were byproducts of a lonely, drunk night where he got too close and she was alone enough to get stuck on it. She didn't like it, she couldn't, and it was weird, he was ruining the whole friendship thing... "Shepard, forget I said that-"

But then, she did that human thing they always saw in movies. She got on her toes and pressed her lips against his. It was weird, soft skin against his plates, but it was her skin, and that was what mattered.

Maybe he hadn't ruined everything.

Shepard said, "I won't forget-"

Everything seemed so right, but just then the wall blew open and Shepard was being sucked out into space. Again. He tried to grab onto her arms, legs, anything to keep her there. No matter what he reached for, she slipped through his goddamn fingers.

When he woke up, his body was shaking and he wrapped his arms around his legs. He hated to admit this wasn't the first time he had a dream like that, one where Shepard wasn't gone.

Garrus had tried so hard to keep her at bay. One year later, but she was always still there.

As long as he could help it, though, his nightmares would be the only place she had left to live. Elsewhere, he had work to do. And as much as he felt for her, pined for her, his life didn't have place for stubborn, Russian spectres.

Garrus had a station to protect.

/

Shepard had been dead for 728 days.

He never should've left the apartment. Garrus figured his team could cover the last of the security measures while he helped Sidonis. It should've been easy.

But when he got there, Sidonis never showed up. And when he got back, there was blood everywhere.

He trusted Sidonis, from the first day he met him. The damned turian seemed honest about wanting to save people. But here they were, and Lantar fucked them.

They were all going to die here, weren't they?

Most everyone was down already. Their corpses were strewn all over the place, their faces locked in horror or dull emptiness. The only ones left alive were Ryel, Gibbon, and Butler.

But from the looks of it, Butler didn't have much longer.

He yelled at the crippled leftovers of his team and asked, "How's it looking?"

Gibbon answered, "Understandably terrible. We have a vantage point, but they have many waves of mercs."

Ryel added, "This balcony view is not as pretty with bullets and brains flying everywhere."

Before he could respond, Butler grabbed Garrus' arm. His abdomen was covered in blood and he could see his stomach lining. The guy normally wore gray pants, but they looked like they'd been dyed red. "I'm not gonna make it, huh?"

"Butler-"

"Nah, I know." He coughed. Garrus couldn't lie to him. "As much as I'd like to go screaming out Nalah's name, I want to hear about something that doesn't break my heart. Tell me about your Russian girl, Garrus. And for real this time."

For all the times Garrus shoved her away, maybe Butler was right. If he was going to die, he'd rather hear about her one last time. He said to the other two, "Hold the line and be careful."

Then, he sat down next to Butler and held his hand. After all this time, nearly two years, he just started talking about Shepard like she really was. "Her name was Anya. She was competitive to a fault and loved saying quotes while she watched movies. She loved to dance, but just by herself. She was a brave leader, but what mattered more was that she was... She was a beautiful, squishy human."

"A human? Never woulda guessed." He knew he already told Butler she was human, but it wasn't really the time to contradict him. Blood loss never helped make the brain a stronger machine.

Instead, Garrus just kept talking, his grip on Butler's hand getting tighter as the memories and feelings wound around his chest. "Me neither, but from all your stories, you didn't sound like you expected to fall in love with an Asari either."

"You're right. I didn't. Tell me more?"

"She was a classic soldier, until she wasn't. An infiltrator class, great with a pistol, terrifying, even. But sometimes she'd walk into debriefings with sweatpants and her hair a mess, swearing about something the pilot did to her toothpaste. And I wondered how that person was the same one that inspired a whole ship, every day. But she did."

"And?" Butler looked at him knowingly, deliberately.

Today, Garrus let the dying man win. "And you were right, Butler. I loved her."

With one final smirk, his hand fell.

When Butler stopped breathing, Garrus picked up his gun, got behind cover like Ryel and Gibbon, and started shooting.

If he was going to go down, he was gonna go down fighting. And this time, he wouldn't stop thinking about her. This time, if he was gonna die, she'd be the last thing on his mind.

No matter where he went, he was stuck with her. Forever.

///

After a little interlude into Garrus' two years without Shepard, we can finally start getting Anya awake and moving in his direction. I am SO ready.

I read on tumblr a couple weeks ago that apparently a lot of people write their own version of 4 things: their first meeting, the rocket-to-the-face, the night before the suicide mission, and "this is the best spot on the citadel.

I know it's stupid, but I honestly feel kinda proud that I ignored their first meeting entirely. And also that my suicide mission night will be VERY different. Is it a stupid thing to be proud of? Yes, but at my core I'm kinda a trash hipster and I can feel pride and shame in that.

Anyway, thank you so much for reading! And extra thanks to my lovely patrons:

Danypooh80

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[monolid-monologues]

this dream about you ruined my morning. LOL. (& how do you retell a dream? especially an embarrassing one?)

when: last night slash this morning. [that’s today, Thursday June 27th]

 it was one of those *you wake up and know you left an intense dream* *go back to sleep because this fucker of a dream needs an ending* 

i could almost call it a nightmare,  if based purely on the harrowing and very real physical toll it had on my body when i really got up from it. 

I re-woke to my second and Emergency alarm (that’s the “get the fuck up now bitch go straight to work do not pass go do not pick up an eyeshadow brush do not eat breakfast get your headass into the car and maybe you won't be viciously tardy”) and my ANKLES WERE LITERALLY SORE?? my head pounding something Awful. And like my chest. Felt such a bitch. Stiff, contracted, and dry. 

you ever been like HUNGOVER from a dream????

* * *

i don't want to call it a nightmare, though,  because it was about you.

And you were/are not a nightmare. lol.  You just...happened. and it passed.

What this is, Is: i had this dream about you, and i fucking hated it LOL

IT’S A FIRST. AND I NEED TO PROCESS IT . BECAUSE i dont get it. i don’t get why i had it. i am so caught off guard by it. i am scared of it. i am scared i even had A dream of you.

and i refuse to let it just bury inside me. i’m going to claw this thing out and take a good mfkin look at it.

OKAY. now that that’s established...

(ugh.... it feels like i’m about to embark into some bitter medicine.)

* * *

we ran into each other...in an apartment?

I was in the living room with my “friends” in the dream A.K.A obscure, obscure acquaintances whose faces i cannot place or recall. 

and like any good dream, out of the god damn blue, comes trawling through a pack of Your friends. or family. or both. and your own face hazily blurring by in the mix. headed thru the nearest hallway, towards one of the bedrooms.

I catch your brother's face (i never even met your brother before lmfao) most crystalline clear among them. and he is the one who stops to meet me as the rest shuffle away.

I immediately recognized him (from pictures. i'd seen pictures IRL), we strike introductions, and conversation. i remember saying "you're his brother!" and other incredibly facile but in that moment in that dream very genuine sentiments. but still we can cringe at how unrealistic and un-grounded in reality they were. things like " i always knew i'd like you" (what the fuck, right) and "wow why does it feel we’ve already met (what the fuck. LOL.) and if we CAN ignore the DELIRIOUSNESS of my REM concoction here, i'd like you to accept with suspension of belief that me and this stranger, me and your brother, did become - in this dream moment - effortlessly chummy. We became instinctively on each other's sides (it still sounds delirious. damn it.  Don't share your dreams willy-nilly, folks, it is not smart to expose your fucking dumbly vivid irrationales lol).

We were getting on like old fuckin friends, what the fuck can i say. It's the fictional truth. 

Then our convo gets to the Grit. The punch in the gut. he tells me you're here. in this apartment. of course i could’ve put that together but the confirmation is CONFIRMING. Palpable - the settling in of the fact that you and i were..both..here.

A many-voltage shock. and i only snap out of it, and the frozen moment only melts back to action when i feel you feel that same shock. And right away, i "hear"...or was it "see"?....your presence / energy dash out of the bedroom in which you and your group were in. And you lock yourself into the bathroom.

A collective "what the hell" is shared between me and my new-but-old dreamworld friend. your brother. We step past the bathroom you are now occupying. We enter the bedroom. I see the rest of your peoples.  Once again, Faceless peoples. i don't know that any of these were REAL peoples, any of your actual peoples in real life. Dreams! what're you gonna do? 

Me vs. your peoples, though. It starts as awkward. Your brother tries to smooth things.

I remember warmth starting to emerge. I'm sure I wanted warmth, and since it was my dream, probably i manipulated events to make it so. I am keeping that in mind about this dream from start to finish, by the way.  My brain manufactured all of this. Why? Fuck Me if i want to know. honestly.

But without knowing why, i still saw the What. (& this whole entire What gave me a serious kink in my neck this morning, like i never even know what a kink was until i got up and groaned.)

The What, at this point, after me and this room begin to warm up to each other: I mean, its only appropriate in such a dream that we land on the next Gut punch. The next revelation. (the brain sure knows who to TELL A STORY. DAMN.)

They tell me that..... FUCK, pause. Pause. PAUSE! I CAN'T BELIEVE I'M ABOUT TO SAY THIS. WRITE THIS. ADMIT TO THIS. 

ugh how else can i say this without causing every internal organ in my body to cringe in unison and threaten whole bodily shutdown for the entirety of the time it takes for my parts to Un-Cringe themselves. i could die. 

i wish to die.

i won't die. let me continue. *deep breathe*

They tell me that you want me back. 

Oh my god i want to laugh and cry and barf at the same time - me in real life, me now - not me in the dream. Well maybe me in the dream. But speaking from the conscious VERY-NOT-ASLEEP P.O.V of my self at present, it really hurts to say that because...i dreamed that. I can't believe i dreamed a dream in which you say "you want me back".

I cringe because you, and me, might think oh, that's what she secretly wants.

No. It. Is. Not.  And i know this, but you can't, unless i tell you outright like this "I DON'T". and even then, because of this dream, i may be relinquishing my right to protest that contention. "Well clearly your deep inner psyche is saying different blah blah wah wah" says the PSEUDO-SCIENTIST IN US ALL. Whatever, that was exhausting, lol, i said what i said and i dreamed what i dreamed.

If you *are* *asking* *me*, i will tell you with incredibly clear eyes: no, i didn't dream you saying that because it was what i wanted. i don't know why i dreamed that, but how about i get to the end now, before we jump to more conclusions:

i hear that, and - what magically appears? A piece of paper, with old feelings written..no, scrawled.. all over it. There's blank space near the end.

There's a collective agreement that you are not coming out of the bathroom anytime soon. Is it a red flag to Dream Me that you are HIDING IN THE FKN BATHROOM? LOL NO. 

in fact i think Dream Me thought it was cute. "aw he's shy" rather than "what the fucking coward". 

Oooo. Was that harsh. and i oop--

I begin to write my "current" (quotes to remind you this IS THE RE-TELLING OF A DREAM, A NON-REALITY!!!) feelings. surprisingly, they were a smidgen closer to my actual feelings today, but still, it was a dream, and my REM brain is setting me up for some happy ending i think. So what do i write? I write something along the lines of "i don't want to be together but i did miss you and i do want to kiss you".

loooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooool throw tomatoes at me NOW.

MOVING ON: I remember the room is now crackling with hope, and optimism,  and your peoples are cooing "how cute" (which is hilarious in hindsight because this is not cute at all, it is very very weird)

and then the vibes get *~*~dramatic~*~ for a pinch: a confession from your brother: -this part i'm dead ass even as ludicrous and irrelevant as it seems-

he says to me: ��i know he said i'm his brother, but i'm not. Actually, he's the brother. *points to a faceless figure* and i'm the good friend.” and it was like one of those soap opera revelation moments.  I don’t know why.

Why does this detail...?? matter??? appear??  Well let me add that, it was like...so familiar. this "uncovering" of a lie. REAL QUICK I'm not saying the man in question is a liar. that’s NOT it at all. I suspect the familiarity lied in my past experiences of feeling "not let in" or "held at a distance”. & I was doing my own damn lying, to myself. I was doing my own emotionally irresponsible business. /ending that there.

Point is, the "confession" was unnerving and it was almost like an omen. Like WHY Would you lie about something like that??? I couldn’t understand it!

But did i still want to leave this note?

And i, in the dream, did. still want to. So I give up the note to your peoples with intentions of it reaching you.

But of course, before i can leave, You come pummeling in.

I guess you were done with your really long shit or you were tired of hiding.

But the way you came in, i remember this motion picture vividly: you don’t greet me, you make a beeline straight past me, you insulate yourself behind your peoples, and your energy feels incredibly apprehensive. like you’re on Defense. Like someone’s come to attack you. Like what? And i’m so confused and so uneasy that i can’t wait to leave, without even wanting a word from you. This, the same person who wants me back they say? This, the same person who I called on for “a kiss” (UGHAHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LMAO!)

Your brother-turned-friend hands you the note. 

I see that you got it.

I see you paw it, and start to look at it.

I feel an edge of regret but i let it be. what i wrote reflected how i felt, i affirm with myself.

and i leave

but while walking out, i’m already reconsidering: "okay it reflected how i felt, before i personally contacted THAT energy, his energy, his avoidance, his marked apprehensiveness"

and i storm back 

when you were just about to dig into it

and i snatch it from your hands

but you held on and

in my determined snatching, i rip back the bottom half as you stare at me and shred the rest of it yourself. shred the half that remained in your hands into tiny ugly pieces.

like shrapnel, and it flutters around you, and your stare is intense, and intact, and i wonder if this was satisfying to you.

i burst out of that room, so angry, so fucking disturbed that you could've read something nice but i didn't want you to read something nice.

No, i was so dissatisfied by the non-greeting, the haphazard waltzing and pacing in the room for the brief moments we shared space,

i was vengeful

i tore the "something nice" before you could receive it.

And then I was horrified by the way you let the rest of it rip up in your hands and disappear like the rest of it (the part i'd taken back).

* * *

I got jumped by my own dream. HOW DID IT -- I--

I mean. What a load of Holy Hell.

And i still, resist, calling it a nightmare, because,

that's not accurate to how i actually remember you.

I remember you fondly.

and the most stressful part of when i look back at our time together

wasn't even you. 

i always, even at the low points, felt a really deep joy from being around you.

The most stressful part when i look back was who I was then.

From where i stand now, i look back and shake my head the most ferociously at who i was, how i was, and what i was missing. what i needed. what i wasn't making sure to get.

have i forgiven Myself? 

maybe that's why This Dream.

//////

AN AFTER THOUGHT: perhaps what is truly horrifying about this dream is 1) how childish it was. 2) why the fuck did i have a dream about you like @brain that was so uncalled for bruh 

////

Edit: An afterthought 24 hours later= My impulse was to recount this dream in detail. I belabored this account, everything i could possibly remember about it, in addition to belaboring that though this DOES seem significant, it DOES NOT mean i still have the same feelings for this mf. 

Now i am able to revisit it, in all its cringe detail glory. I have a lot more perspective on why this dream, and what it might mean to me. WOW the power of writing.