#arashu’s gift

[drelldreams]

mass effect fic recs

i decided to start this series of mass effect fic recs. many of my favorite fics are very unknown and those writers deserve to have their amazing fics read.

i’m starting with shrios fics!

arashu’s gift by silly_literature

this story takes place in me2 and it’s my favorite shrios fic. the romance is the type of low key slow burn romance where there’s some hint towards romance at the beginning. it’s evident they’re attracted to each other from the start but it still builds up upon mutual trust and friendship.

the romantic tension between them really kept me binging this fic just waiting for the next gesture of affection between the two.

i was so happy when the smut came i’m not going to lie. it was wonderfully written. realistic, with attention paid to the differences in their anatomy being different species. mordin’s advice was glorious as well.

there’s a sweet amount of well written hurt/comfort too. what i love most about this fic is how well the author decipted the tragic beauty of thane and shepard’s romance having just blossomed when they were facing death on a suicidal mission.

and then there’s those little things that make a fic awesome. shepard explaining thane english words/earth terms. thane cooking. awesome action side missions. crew banter. mordin being hilarious asf. and it’s a binge worthy fic.

enough rambling here’s a summary.

fic summary

“Thane Krios is the best elite assassin in the galaxy. And he has less than a year to live. He decides to perform one last altruistic act by killing an asari mobster and just as he is about to embrace Kalahira's calling, Commander Shepard of the Alliance shows up with a suicide mission for which she needs him.

Jane Shepard has returned from the dead. Her last memory is the Normandy SR-1 shattered in space by a Collector ship's beam. She has awakened on a Cerberus space station. Two years have passed since the attack and her former comrades, the Alliance and the Citadel Council do not take kindly to her supposed resurrection or her association with the Illusive Man's organization. Meanwhile, Collectors abduct human colonists in the Terminus Systems and no one seems to care.

For Thane, death was his ten years of battle sleep driven only by his thirst for vengeance, while for Shepard, the two years unconscious while strangers did and undid with her body without her consent. Together they will find their way back to life and with their comrades venture into the bowels of the galaxy from where no ship has ever returned.”

a second chance by silly_literature

my second favorite shrios fic, also written by silly_literature. it’s a sequel to arashu’s gift and i think the writer did a better job than the me3 writers, who did thane dirty.

this fic actually does thane justice. and there is SO much cool action adventure. lots of drell and kahje content. liara is being a badass shadow broker and wrex made my heart melt once again in this fic. 10/10 i binged this in a little over 24 hours. the worldbuilding and plot in this fic was so beautiful.

fic summary

The galaxy is at war. As Commander Jane Shepard has been announcing for more than two years, the Reapers are a reality and their unstoppable advance has led them to devastate countless systems until they reach Earth. With civilization on the verge of collapse, and in a last act of desperation, the Alliance has decided to annul the sentence that weighed on Commander Shepard after the incident with the batarian colony of Aratoht, and entrust her with the mission of signing alliances with the rest of the races of the galaxy that will allow them to face the Reapers with greater guarantees.

As if the Reaper threat wasn't enough, Cerberus seems to have a special interest in the planet Kahje, the homeworld of the hanar and adopted home of the drell. With the loyal support of her personal squad and the unwavering love of Thane, Shepard must face the challenge of defeating a millenary race, something that no one has been able to achieve in previous cycles. A deployment of forces and resources that will not go unnoticed and will make Shepard's team investigate, without suspecting the consequences that could have for the future of the galaxy.

[nowandthane]

Twilight Voyage

Inspired by Thane Krios <3

I listened to @sillyliterature ‘s playlist for her fic, Arashu’s Gift (highly recommend!!) while writing this ❤️

And thank you to @grim-starling for the title!

[shiftingtomasseffect]

started reading this fanfic arashu’s gift yesterday and today i came to the conclusion i am a big shrios shipper now, wow

[queenaeducan-writes]

Prayers of the Father

Pairing: Miranda & Thane (gen) Characters: Miranda Lawson, Thane Krios Fandom: Mass Effect 2 Rating: General Warning: Discussion of terminal disease

Summary: Thane meditates alone after witnessing Miranda and her sister reunite, the similarities (and differences) between their circumstances not escaping him. On the Normandy, however, he is not a man alone, and being a member of a crew means accepting help from unconventional places.

This was my gift for @celestialarcadia for the @spectre-requisitions-exchange​! It was a pleasure to write! You can also read it here on AO3.

They were twins, alike in every way, down to the finest strands of their DNA. Only Thane did not see a mirror when Miranda stood with her sister; their faces wore their years differently.  Oriana was bright with only the faintest thought lines impressed between her brow. Though Miranda’s face was smooth, it was haunted by ghosts— they lingered in the corners of her eyes and the set of her jaw. All the pain she had borne so her sister could know a life of leisure.

The only reflection was their smiles: they were identical in their joy, in their gratitude for this opportunity to share their lives with one another.

Every detail of the scene he’d merely glimpsed at Shepard’s side was etched into his memory. It burned in his mind with greater brilliance than a reunion between a distant co-worker and her long-lost sister had any right to.

Perhaps it was because he was glad for her. Perhaps it was because he could blink, and in the millisecond before his third eyelid opened he could imagine himself standing in Miranda’s place, and Kolyat in Oriana’s.

Perhaps it was hope that gave the memory its gauzelike glow.

Or perhaps it was envy.

Be it jealousy or yearning, he was alone now, meditating to the electric hum of the Normandy’s engine. Though his hands were clasped before him, all prayer failed him. He had come to his gods in times of bounty and hardship, but in that moment he fell silent. His heart was too clouded with desire to see the path ahead, and he would not invoke their names until his thoughts ran clearly.

In that state of silent contemplation, estranged from the gods he put his faith in, the doors to life support hissed open. He expected Shepard, or else Chakwas, there to listen to his lungs, but the hollow sound of heels tapping against the floor announced Miranda’s arrival.

“I’m not interrupting, am I?” she asked, drawing to a smooth stop a few paces behind him.

He angled his head towards her, body still facing towards the Normandy’s rear engine. “No. I was seeking favour with my gods on your sister’s behalf. She has a long and dangerous journey ahead of her.”

And like that, the words find him. Suddenly the hands folded in prayer held meaning in the empty space he cupped between his palms. “Arashu, goddess of protection, guide Oriana safely to her future home. Amonkira, Lord of Hunters, shroud her father’s eyes, protect her from his sight.”

Silence at his back as his prayer finished. Humans, he found, spoke rarely of gods, and when they did it was always in passing. Miranda’s silence felt different, as though she wanted to grant it a window of deference before she deigned to speak again. “Thank you,” she said, voice low then rising in volume, easing into the secular. “I won’t turn aside help from anyone, least of all a goddess.”

With a sigh, she ventured further in what had become his quarters, nails drumming against the desk he leant on as she drew level with it. “There’s no saying when my father will get wind of what happened today, but I’d wager it won’t be all too long.”

Thane watched her suck a breath in around her teeth, a moment’s weakness, quickly quashed. When she drew her gaze from the engine, she was poised, precise. She did not come here on a matter of business, but neither for idle conversation. “But she’s safe, for now. Thanks to Shepard, and to you.”

He blinked. What he expected when she entered he couldn’t know, especially now, but he could safely say he did not expect this. “It was my duty as an assassin in Shepard’s service. I made a vow.”

“To stop the Collectors, not solve my family’s problems.”

“It was a… worthy diversion.”

“And that’s why I’m thanking you.”

He sensed she would chase the subject until he relented, and so he did. His head bowed in resignation, and acknowledgment. “You are welcome.”

But Miranda lingered, arms folded over her chest as though waiting for him to say more. The distance between them tipped like a scale, and he got the impression that she wasn’t used to feeling indebted to anyone. With Shepard he imagined she could operate safely with the knowledge that she’d brought the Commander back from the dead, but with him she had no such leverage. He was a stranger who had bled for her sister’s freedom and she was grateful, but she was resentful.

It comforted him to consider such duality could exist in her, as well.

Thane allowed the silence, giving her time to count her chips and measure them before placing them on the scale. “As I understand it,” she began, “I’m not the only one on this ship keeping tabs on long-lost relatives.”

If she anticipated surprise he could only disappoint her. “I see you’ve been diligent in your surveillance.”

“With the company we keep I have to be.”

“It was not a judgment, merely an observation.” He’d never been under the impression that his time aboard this vessel was his own, in fact he was quite confident that for every time he’d caught a camera’s lens blinking at him there were at least two more occasions he never noticed its stare.

Seeing no reason to retread covered ground with her, he pushed himself out from the desk, aiming his chair towards her. “What have you learned so far?”

“You have a son— Kolyat, and from the sounds of it he’s taken up the family trade.” Her gaze lowered, dark lashes resting on porcelain cheeks. “How long has it been since you last saw him?”

“He was still a child,” Thane said, “I… abandoned him, left him for family to raise. My instincts as an assassin had more practise than my instincts as a father.”

“I know the feeling. I’ve had a sister for almost twenty years, but I never felt like one myself until today.”

“You became an older sister the day you gave up everything for her safety.” There was much about Miranda to be admired: she had breathed life into a corpse, helped pull together a team ready to face the end of the universe from whispers and rumours, but he had no choice but to honour that decision above the rest. It was a choice he should have made years ago, after they committed his wife’s body to the sea, but he had chosen the easier path. The path of violence.

Now he lived every moment in fear that it was too late to rectify that mistake.

“It wasn’t as selfless as you describe it. I knew what my father had in store for her because I’d suffered it myself, it was only a question of whether I’d leave with her or without but…” She breathed, it hitched on her nerves. “Thank you, anyway.”

He gestured towards her with his head, and a silence descended between them, settling like mist between two mountain peaks. Thane was content with the silence. Words offered distraction as often as solace, and Miranda’s remark served to remind him how much work had yet to be done. His life was ending, be it by the Collector’s hands or time’s cruel grip. As they spoke, Kolyat was drawing plans, gathering intel, sizing up his arsenal, and though Thane lived his life at Shepard’s pace, he wanted to hit the ground running when they reached the Citadel’s docks.

Miranda seemed to sense that anticipation in him. Her hand made a fist on the table and she said, “I can see what intelligence I can contribute, although I imagine you’ve built quite the network of contacts over the years.”

“It is quite formidable, yes, but I would not turn aside help from anyone, least of all yours.”

Her lips twitched into a smile, recognising the words as a permutation of her own. “I’ll see what I can do.” Miranda’s knuckles rapped once on the table, a punctuation to mark their conversation’s conclusion. He watched as she withdrew from his side, her gait long and fluid as she made for the door. The exit yawned widely, and she hovered in its precipice a moment before she reached for a button that forced the door closed.

“When you see him again,” she began, “will you speak to him?”

Thane thought of his vision, of his and Kolyat’s smiling faces where Miranda’s and Oriana’s shone. It wasn’t like the pictures in his memory, their vision clear and crisp, like he still lived and breathed in a moment that otherwise lay buried in the shores of the past. No, the edges swam with sweet nostalgia, the memory of Kolyat’s round, youthful face eclipsing the grown man he had become in the years since he’d left.

If he allowed the harsh light of reality to touch the frame, the smile turned cold. It would take divine intervention to repair the bond he had broken with his son.

“I haven’t yet decided,” was the answer he settled on.

“Hm.” The little sound Miranda made in her throat was discerning, but she didn’t do him the dishonour of stripping his every fear bare. “You ought to. If nothing else, he deserves to hear he still has a father that loves him.”

His lungs tightened against his ribs, a pang of pity dropped in his chest. He was certain Miranda would resent it were she to know. “I will consider it, certainly. Thank you, Ms. Lawson, for your consideration.”

“Don’t thank me until he’s safe.” Her hand reached for the door operator, then hesitated, just once more. “Oh, and one more thing. Say a prayer for your son, for me.”

Thane nodded, hand lifting off the back of his chair to once again face the electric blue engines, cupping his hands together in a display of reverence for the gods that had followed him beyond the white sands of his homeworld.

“Arashu, mother to us all, shield my son from those who would do him harm in this time of trouble. Lord Amonkira, clear our eyes and sharpen our wits. Kalahira…” He swallowed, and breathed. It came easier with their names in his lungs. “Kalahira, I ask your tides to carry me to Kolyat’s side one last time before I embark across the sea. I ask only for the chance to call to him by the name his mother gave him.”

The doors closed behind her, but in her absence, he was not alone.

[thanekrios]

A desert of his own

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I would much like to see a desert.”

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

Irikah nods gently before continuing her story:

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

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

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

Irikah pauses. Something is happening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She is almost done. Let her finish.

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

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

A myth of creation is replaced by news of destruction.

* * *

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

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

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

So, she asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She shakes her head and hands it to him.

Thane holds it up.

It’s a terrarium.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you for giving me the extraordinary.”

[zet-sway]

Irikah Week - The Smell of Cut Grass

Hi hello I am here on the very last day of Irikah week to present my humble and small contribution. Sorry to take so long. Life is doing things. I think I did okay with this. Please enjoy some shameless fluff.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“You're going to wear that?" Irikah shook her head and sighed.

Thane looked down at himself, suddenly self conscious. He'd worn his most professional gear, armored leather, sleek and black and… Irikah stood in her doorway, wrapped in a colorful sundress that just barely brushed her knees. She looked radiant. He looked like a shadow.

"Come inside," she motioned with a quick whisk of her hand. "Your entire wardrobe is black, isn't it?"

Thane opened his mouth to respond but she sauntered off down the hall, up a short flight of stairs, leaving him alone with his thoughts in her living room. A wicker picnic basket and a blanket sat by the door beside a bottle of wine - a budget variety, but a good one. Practical, as Irikah always was.

She emerged suddenly with an earthy tan shirt, short sleeved, with a moderate square cut neckline. He must have looked as inadequate as he felt because her expression softened, and she held the garment out to him.

"You look very elegant, Sere Krios," she said with sincerity, leaning a bit to meet his downcast eyes. "But you don't have to live your life dressed to 'kill.'"

The shirt, as it turned out, was a perfect fit, and she smiled as he exited her restroom.

"Keep it, Thane. It was always too big for me anyway."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

As promised, there was no rain that day. And when they arrived at her chosen locale, he understood why she had asked him to change. It felt nearly sinful to tarnish the sunlit hillside with his own shadow. There was not a cloud in the sky. The perch overlooked a cargo holding dock by the bridgeside, but when they settled on the blanket to enjoy their lunch, their line of sight was broken and it became just the two of them, the sky above, and the grass below. He hadn't stepped outdoors on such a beautiful day in years.

He thought he should feel vulnerable in such a place, but the blessed land seemed wholly unconcerned with his intrusion. Wildflowers dotted the grass and he plucked one by its stem, inhaling the light floral scent that so reminded him of her.

"Compact assassin Thane Krios sniffing a buttercup," she teased. "What would your handlers think?"

"The Hanar appreciate beauty, do they not?" He turned the stem in his hands, watching the light bounce off the vibrant yellow petals, and then lifted his eyes to her. "They would hold me in high esteem to find that I do, as well." He extended his arm with the bloom in his open palm, offering it to her. Irikah's throat darkened in a blush as she accepted it.

"You have a way of disarming people," she mused quietly, leaning with one palm on the blanket as she etched his little gift into her memory.

"And yet you are the only one who has ever disarmed me."

She looked up, then. Thane's dark eyes, always so guarded, were lit from within by Kahje's reticent sun, as open and vulnerable as she'd ever seen. And for once she felt she could see him clearly. Deep inside him, behind all of his vigilance and careful poise, was a man absolutely yearning to be loved.

As if he read her mind, he placed his hand over hers. The touch of his hand was electrifying in its intimacy. Whatever he was sculpted to be seemed insignificant in that moment, with a smile on his lips and his brows drawn in focus.

They'd only known each other for a few short months, but he wandered the halls of her memory as though he belonged there. Disarmed as she was by his gleaning eyes and the warmth of affection, she couldn't find the resolve to lie to herself any longer.

She leaned in close and kissed him.

The world around them melted rapidly from there. Their bodies pulled together under that blessed sun, lips locked, hands fisting in clothing. Irikah leaned into him with determination and he yielded, letting her push him back onto the blanket. The touch of her tongue to his ignited desires he hadn't dared to hope would become reality. She tasted like wine and sunlight.

Time disintegrated as they drank of each other. When she finally pulled back, Thane couldn't help but caress her face, radiant azure like the sky and framed by sunshine. It was now or never.

"There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he murmured.

She hummed a response, the sound resonating from her throat with affection. Her fingers traced the neckline of the shirt that had been hers just an hour before as she waited for him to find his words.

Thane smiled. "I'm in love with you," he said simply.

Irikah's erupting laughter was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard. "And here I thought you'd never admit it."

She clasped his hand at her cheek and pulled him toward her, encouraging him to sit up so she could curl her arms around him before pouring them both another drink. Their lips met again as they drew closer under the rare sun, as though blessed by Arashu herself.

“I think I’m in love with you too, Thane Krios,” Irikah whispered against his mouth.

Like it was written in the stars, their lives would remain forever intertwined from that moment forward.

[luckyspacerabbit]

Surpassing a Dream

yet another shrios drabble bc im a :( 

Pairing: Thane Krios/f!Shepard

Rating: G

Words: 1124

Warnings: none

Summary: Thane and Shepard, alongside their pet cat, share a sweet little moment of reflection after the events of ME2 in their beautiful desert apartment.

Ao3

                                              **************************

“Will you be joining me, Siha?” Thane asked, peering over the edge of the couch.

He only received a light laugh in response, Dan Hyun hopping from foot to foot in the kitchen as she entertained the animal at her feet. It was hard to resist smiling when Ba’s paw managed to collide with Dan Hyun’s pink slipper. She always seemed so proud of herself when she succeeded.

“Wait! I’m playing with your child…”

Lying his arm against the back of the pillows, Thane settled in, allowing his cheek to rest upon it as he watched his Siha crouch to coo at Ba. It was hard to believe what time had made of her, the sandpaper scars faded and powerful muscle turned soft. No longer was she the discarded waif she had been on their first meeting. Against all adversity, she’d bloomed through trials of fire, with thick protective vines and velvet soft petals. How ironic that the Usharet that incited their first meeting would be the very thing she resembled now.

But perhaps not. Arashu has been known to have a deep appreciation for romance.

“Thinking again?”

Her words pulled him from his musings and he met her gaze through white fur, Ba’s tail acting as a mask for Dan Hyun’s lower face. The former Commander cradled the cat over her shoulder, purs emanating as Thane chuckled at the sight.

“Imparting my thanks to our great mother for the precious gift of being able to witness your battle with Ba.”

She blushed lightly. “Battle, huh? And who do you think won?”

A small smile spread itself over his face as Dan Hyun scaled the arm of the couch, sliding neatly between his legs. It only took a moment of adjustment before she was curled against him, boxy nose nuzzling into his chest. Ba, displaced from her position, slipped to the side with a mewl, eyes large with betrayal. It seemed she had expected to be the one spooned.

“It was a very close match,” he threaded his fingers through her short hair, the texture as soft as that of a cloud. He wondered how he had gone so many years without knowing the feeling. “In the end, though, it must have been a tie.”

His skin lit with warmth as short fingers caught his chin and cheeks, Dan Hyun’s glowing browns locking him into her atmosphere.

“Tie! Again, jagiya? I’ll just have to improve my footwork next time. You too, Ba!” She looked to their scottish fold, who had made herself comfortable on the adjacent ottoman. “No more lounging in the sun all day like your Pitar.” A sharp toothed yawn was her only reply.

Thane’s chest felt full as he turned his attention back to the woman in his lap, allowing his hands to center on her waist after their journey across her abdomen. His pads pressed into the soft expanse of skin exposed between her tank top and her sweats, soaking the immense heat of her body into his cool scales.

He could feel a shiver run down his back, tickling him with pleasure.

“Siha…” he mumbled, eyelids drooping as his lover trailed a thumb down his cheek. “You have no idea how much I cherish these moments.”

He felt her forehead against his, radiating warmth alongside her chuckle.

“Moments… like sharing our evenings together? I can imagine a little…” his eyes opened enough to catch her swallow as he pulled her closer, joining them by the hips. She let a breath escape her with a shining smile, leaning into his hold.

“I’m so thankful that it was you at the top of those towers,” she whispered, nose wrinkling. “Even though you were ‘using’ me.”

He laughed softly, recalling his snippy battlefield manners.

“I was in need of a distraction…” his gaze trained on hers before he let them drop to her lips. “You offer plenty.”

She flushed beneath her freckles, eyelashes fluttering in emotion. It didn’t matter how long it had been since their early days of romance and courtship, she always reacted as if it were the first.

The feeling inspired Thane to take a full breath, his chest expanding without struggle as Dan Hyun leaned in, the corners of her mouth tilted up. His eyes slid closed when hot breath ghosted over his lips, hands tightening on her pedastled hips.

No dream could have ever come close to capturing the sweetness of her lips.

Its pillowy form caressed his own with compassion, each gift of contact a drop of mercy from the gods above.

With taut muscles he held her in place against him, skin tingling as her fingers curled around his neck and chin, searching for the pleasurable dips and ridges that made Thane shudder in excitement. He caught her bottom lip in his, grazing his teeth as he pulled, Dan Hyun’s soft mewl encouraging him further as she twisted to get even closer, despite his steadfast hands.

The velocity of their rhythm had increased without intention, seconds blurring by where all he saw was her, dark hair stroking his cheeks like they were stoking a flame.

All coming to a crashing halt when a shatter pierced their sanctimonious bubble.

Thane reacted first, breaking away from Dan Hyun to search the room for the source of the noise. What he saw was the quick ringed tail of Ba, disappearing around the corner as her paws pattered towards their bedroom.

“Aish, not again,” Dan Hyun sighed, though her flushed smile betrayed any semblance of annoyance. Her eyes closed with fondness as he pecked her nose, gently removing her from the tangle of their bodies.

“I’ll take care of it.”

She gaped at him from her seat on the couch, hair flying alongside her shining eyes.

“But, we can always clean up later!”

Thane stood while rolling his shoulders, turning back to his angel with a smile. In a flash, he used two fingers to capture her chin, hovering an inch from her lips.

“Be patient, Siha. It won’t take more than a moment.”

He found great amusement and pleasure how she reddened and snorted, batting him away with a mumble.

And as he departed the cushions and protectiveness of their space, a haze of warmth and dreamlike colors trailed after the corners of his vision with pink petaled tints.

Thane knew better, though.

It wasn’t a dream that he was reciting, or conjuring from the far reaches of his mind.

It was his life.

One that he had bled for, mourned the loss of, and restarted several times over.

Yet after it all he stood, in a kitchen, surrounded by broken pieces of ceramic, his partner lounging several feet away, eagerly awaiting his return.

Was there anything more that he could have asked for?

[imakemywings]

Summary: Thane thought his time of seeing color was over. Soulmates AU.

______________________________________________________________

           Sunset-colored eyes.

               They were the first thing he saw, really saw. The flight of poetry struck him like a bolt when he peered through his scope and saw not the back of his target’s skull, but those eyes. Thane had never seen a sunset, in the truest sense, but when he looked into her red-orange eyes, he thought they matched perfectly with what descriptions of the sight he had read. Surely this was the stunning phenomena which had captured so many artists and poets—not that Thane considered himself much of either.

               The ruddy orange of Irikah’s eyes, the cool yellow of her scales, the blue flush of her throat—the defiant outrage in her face—the sights flashed against Thane’s eyelids every time he shut them, and the sudden onslaught of color dizzied him. He barely finished the job—he did finish, he always finished—but when it was done, the stranger still hounded his heels, her accusing glare burning through his eyes even when he was alone.

               That first night, he caught sight of his reflection in a pane of glass, and stopped him dead in his tracks. Green—his scales were green. It was the question every young drell asked the first time one of them was able to see properly—What color am I? Thane had been told—but how did one describe a color? Now he understood—understood why the answers of those with sight failed so badly, how they flopped around and bit their tongues trying to answer the question. Thane did not habitually linger in the open, even when he was not on duty, but that night he stopped in the alleyway and stared, like a blind man seeing his reflection for the first time. Green. Had his parents been green, he wondered?

               Kolyat was a beautiful sea-green, all foamy and blue and mottled with darker swaths. Thane was glad he had the memory of the sight, though it was locked in Kolyat’s childhood—if his scale colors had shifted at all since then, Thane was not aware.

               It was inevitable that he should track down the yellow woman, but Thane only realized this when he had done it. She was tormenting his conscience, clawing at his eyes, her thundering, soundless voice penetrating his dreams—there was no rest. By the time Thane found her, he could do no more than throw himself at her feet and beg forgiveness for this avenging disciple of Arashu sent to punish him for his sins. She staggered away from him, reaching for the defense pistol against the wall, but her hand stayed and he saw her tremble. Her lips moved, just a wobble, and he thought he saw the beginning of a question on them. What color...?

               How much time had they spent together in the early bloom of their tenderness, tracing over each other’s patterns, describing their surroundings, inventing new metaphors and similes to illustrate one another? Each new color was a delightful surprise and on more than one occasion, they purchased things simply because it was a color they had not seen before (the day Irikah ran to show him a necktie she’d found that was teal, though neither of them wore such ties; the day Thane gifted Irikah a basket of red-green-yellow fruits because he had never known a fruit could be so many colors at once).

               And Kolyat! Irikah was no painter, but Thane arrived at the house one day to see her agonizing over an easel, tongue poking between her lips, scrutinizing the baby lying on the floor beside her. The image was no more than a mottle of Kolyat’s colors (“Abstract,” Thane pronounced), but they hung it on the wall anyway. They marveled over him anew, as if they had been granted their sight all over again. But wonder did not last: food wanted purchasing, and the roof wanted keeping up, so Thane returned to work, and Irikah tended to Kolyat, and cursed the Illuminated Primacy for its carelessness with the children in its charge.

               He was on a job when the world dissolved again. At first, he did not realize what had happened—the area was so dark and gray already that the absence of color did not immediately register. It was only when his hand passed through his vision, as gray as his surroundings, that it became clear.

               Thane Krios did not leave jobs undone—but he killed four other people in the frenzied flailing to down his target and return to Kahje. His pay was halved, later, for causing such a mess.

               To his deathbed, he maintained that entering that house was the hardest thing he ever did. There were no colors—but there was the smell. The sharp tang of blood, and the sweeter, more insidious smell of rot. Irikah was gray, the shimmering gloss of her yellowness lost to him forever more, sucked out of the world. It was cruel, and perfectly fitting—why should he see, when the only thing that mattered to him was discarded on the kitchen floor like a displeasing rag doll, limbs askew, eyes dull and unseeing, the taint of death wreathing her like a cloud of poison. Thane did not know what pain was—not until that day. Anything that came before were the pinpricks of a child’s scraped knee, and now he was holding his heart in his hands, watching the blood stream in rivulets down his arms.

               Kolyat was gray, too. When Thane finally found him, coaxed him out of the closet where he was hiding, had been for days, the resplendent blue-green-black of his scales was gone, just shades of muted gray, and a shivering child too frightened even to weep. Thane pressed Kolyat’s face into his chest as he carried him out of the house, though Kolyat had lately insisted he was too big to be carried. If there was one last act of parental mercy he could give to Kolyat, it was to spare him the sight of his mother’s defiled corpse.

               Irikah’s sister and her husband were gray when Thane passed Kolyat over to them, and her pleas for him to stay, to let the saga end with Irikah’s death, were white noise. Thane had never known how to get along with Irikah’s family, having had none of his own that he knew, but it had sometimes pleased him to sit on the sidelines and be an observer to their familial warmth, if he was not wholly a part of it. Now, even such pretenses were gone. Thane did not have a family—but Kolyat should have one.

               To work once more in black and white, Thane had to train himself to see again. He had grown too used to the color, and the grays began to blur together. So too did the passage of time. It took years to hunt down every last one who had contributed to her death. Kolyat was a teenager when Thane was done, and then, a stranger. So just as before, without direction, Thane returned to what he was trained to do. It was only biding time—his lungs would take care of the question for him sooner or later.

               Nassana Dantius was a job difficult enough that it might speed along the process. Kolyat was an adult when Thane took the job—must have been nearly twenty. Older than Thane had been when he left the Compact to marry Irikah. Older than Thane had been when Irikah birthed their only child. Thane prayed Kolyat made better decisions--that Thane’s absence might at least spare Kolyat his influence. Irikah’s sister had not spoken to him in many years, and Thane did not press it.

               Imagining that Thane did not feel anymore after Irikah’s death was a fantasy, even for him. For a long time, things were dampened, but he knew still anger, pleasure, amusement, even a rare moment of peace. When he saw someone trying to steal his kill, it roused something he had not felt for some years—irritation born of a wound to his pride. How long, since he had been a cocky youth, allowed to take solo jobs younger than any other assassin working with the Compact? Since he had strutted about like an animal flashing its crests, marking his territory as the most talented and promising young assassin on Kahje? Thane did not like to think of himself as that same callow boy—but he knew the child existed in him still, and he was howling his displeasure at the thought of being bested, as some strike team crashed through Nassana’s hideout, forcing Thane to double his speed. Just because he meant to die here, or shortly after, did not mean he would allow someone else to take his kill.

               Thane Krios did not leave jobs undone.

               And while the human—it was a human, wasn’t it, despite the motley crew?—wasted time talking, Thane swiped Nassana out from under her nose. Assassination was an art—and he would not be shown up by anyone.

               But the competition did not rage or shout or shoot as he had expected. In fact, they were wholly unconcerned with Nassana’s death.

               “My name’s Commander Shepard,” the human said, reaching up to pop her helmet off. “And I’m not here for Nassana. I’m here for you.” What a confounding place the world was—as Thane tried rapidly to figure what anyone in the Alliance could want with him, he studied the Commander’s eyes, searching for answers. What kind of person targeted him on a job? Put so much work into hunting him down, but not to kill him? The penetrating brown of the Commander’s gaze, a few shades lighter than her scale-less skin, was marred by a red glow, an unmistakable sign of bionic implants. Commander Shepard had brown eyes.

               Commander Shepard had brown eyes.

               Commander Shepard had brown eyes.

               “You have brown eyes.” Thane spoke without thinking, shock punching through his considerable defenses (an assassin with a loose tongue did not live long).

               Commander Shepard had brown eyes.

               “Uh. Y--.” She squinted in the light, and he watched as her eyes began to flick around wildly—he knew the reaction. It was the same one he had had after catching sight of Irikah for the first time. “Yes. I do.” She mastered herself quicker than he had, forcing her attention back to him, batting away the explosion taking place before her eyes. What kind of person was this Shepard? “But more importantly, I have a job to do. And I want your help.”

               Thane took the job.

               When Kalahira finally came for him—so many years after he had begged her to hurry—he kept his eyes open to the end, so the last things that tethered him to the world might be Kolyat’s sea-green scales, and Shepard’s fair brown eyes.

[forlornmelody]

Through The Night

Rating: Mature (some sexy times, but it’s not the focus of the story. Proceed at your own comfort level.)

Ship: Shrios (Female Shepard x Thane Krios)

AO3 Link: Here

Summary:  Neither Thane Krios nor Jane Shepard want to spent their last night alone. But even the most tender of touches can't keep the ghosts at bay.

-*-*-

“And what do your gods think of this?” Jane Shepard says it with tongue in cheek, grinding up against his hips. 

Thane grins wickedly against her lips. Jane wonders if her next high will be as amazing as the first. She darts her tongue out only for Thane to pull back out of her reach in a sort of pout. “You do realize Arashu was originally a fertility goddess?”

“Wait. Does this mean you get to have sacred orgies? Cause I’m in.” She licks her own lips, running a hand down his chest. “For the fucking. Just the fucking.”

Other people would turn up their noses at her sacrilegious jokes, but Thane chuckles as he pulls her close again. His cheek rests against hers as he slips into memory. 

“We thought we were doing what the gods wanted--using all our power to drain Rakhana of every bit of life it had. We thought Arashu would reward us with more, and that Amonkira would continue to send us animals to hunt. But we were wrong. Many of the drell stayed behind on Rakhana, seeing our death as a punishment for our actions. Others saw them as our redemption. We believed rain was a heavenly gift, you see.”

It’s easy to get lost with Thane as she listens to his words and his breathing. “Kahje must have seemed like heaven.”

 “Oh, it did, for a time.” His next breath is jagged. “Until we realized heaven destroyed our lungs.”

“Is that why so few believe?”

Thane doesn’t really frown, not in a human way, but his face hardens, and his eyes focus on something beyond her. “Perhaps.”

Shepard was never much for religion. Sure, she’d listen to Ash back on the SRI talk about God like He was her old friend. Or Liara talk about Athame, or even the Siari philosophy. Or Garrus and his Spirits. Or Tali and her Ancestors. “Then why do you believe?” Chewing her lip, Shepard looks away. It’s probably rude to ask, but she can’t help her curiosity. 

His scaled hand cradles the back of her head as Thane looks into her eyes, or perhaps someone else's. “There are two things death cannot take away--memory, and belief.”

Shepard hasn’t been to church in a long time, not since she was living on the streets of Vancouver, but something about Thane’s breath on her skin feels like benediction--his hands on her body like prayer. She’s never considered herself very spiritual, but if there’s a heaven--Shepard imagines it feels like this. 

“Like martyrs, you mean?”

Thane rolls over her, gazing down at her like midnight and noon caught in an intimate embrace. “Like saints,” he murmurs, before claiming her mouth with his. 

------

“Are you sure about this, Siha?” Thane looks up at her, scrutinizing her face, reading every line. He told her once that reading behavior was the second most important skill in taking down a target. The first was remaining undetected. 

“Thane.” Shepard squeezes his hands. “If I die, I want to die having known you.” It’s mostly true. Or partly true. Jane Shepard can’t stand the thought of spending her last night alone. “Please.” Maybe the only truth coming out of her mouth is the desperation in her voice. 

“I need to be certain you want this. Before we do anything.” His inner eyelids close and reopen as he takes a breath. Thane’s chin ducks down slightly as he continues. “Mordin told you about Drell venom?”

Shepard nods. “Hallucinogenic. What about it?” She needs to be held, to hold in turn, to taste him and forget the world. If she gets high in the process then so be it. 

“Once you taste it...taste me, you’ll want nothing else.” It’s a warning, but it sends warm shivers down her spine, nonetheless. “I need you to say it. Before you taste me.” He squeezes her side, his fingers trailing up and down her skin despite himself. 

“I want you.” Shepard says without hesitation, resting her forehead against his. “Do you want me?”

“Yes, Siha. With every breath inside my lungs.” He kisses her, and her whole world narrows to him. 

His skin, normally so cool to the touch, flares with heat. Jane itches to feel every inch of it, tracing her fingers down the opening of his shirt, she pushes off his jacket so she can feel how the size of his scales change as they move past his shoulders. Thane’s mouth tastes like salt on watermelon. The stripes on his sides don’t make him more alien, they make him more Thane. She draws her lips across them, feeling his breath hitch. No belly button interrupts her journey to the top of his waistband, and Shepard pulls back to look up at him.

Thane cradles her chin with his thumb, and Jane closes her eyes, humming at how smooth it feels against her skin. The soft hands of an assassin--not the callused hands of a soldier. “What is it, Siha?”

“Just thinking how this isn’t the first time I’ve stared Death in the face.”

This man doesn’t really snort, maybe Drell never do, but he lets out a huff of air that must approximate one. “I’m not Death personified. I’m just its instrument.”

“Do not go telling me I’m unsheething your “sword.” Do not.” With that, Shepard yanks down his pants, and her breath catches in her throat. She isn’t sure what she was expecting--not that she really cared or minded. Thane could have had a mess of tentacles down there and Jane Shepard would still find a way to bring him past the brink. Honestly the shape isn’t that foreign--phallic and ahem, long, not too thick either. Shepard’s mouth dries as she imagines how it will feel with Thane inside her. The various shades of green--the patterns which she traces with her fingertip--are not ones she’d find on a human dick, but that’s not really what catches her attention. It’s the slight bumps on either side. 

“Like what you see?”

Shepard answers by taking him into her mouth.

-------

Thane doesn't kid around. Every nerve inside her veins floats, tingling as the world shifts in color. His fused fingers thrusting in and out of her arching body, leaves her a whimpering, boneless mess. The first time, when his mouth explores her vulva, she’s cognizant enough to say his name as her insides tighten and pulse. They’re not so lucky the second time. 

It sobers her to hear Kaidan’s name out loud, even when it just slipped from her lips. “Thane, I….”

Pressing a finger to her lips, Thane runs his other hand through her hair. “I don’t mind, Siha.” His sigh rumbles through her bones. Even now it’s hard to tell where she ends and he begins. “May I tell you something?” He says it so quietly she almost doesn’t hear him.

“What is it?”

“I was also thinking of someone else.”

“Irikah?”

Thane nods against her head, his frills brushing her ear. “I’m sorry.”

“We’re one sad mess of a couple.”

Shepard half expects him to laugh. Instead he pulls her closer. “I’m glad you’re here, Shepard.”

“I’m glad you’re here, too.”

-----

Sometime during the sleep cycle, Jane Shepard wakes to find Thane watching her.

“I’m being unfair to you.” The scales on Thane’s hand trail up and down Jane Shepard’s bare arm.

She rolls over, letting his breath stir the hairs that have fallen in front of her face. “What makes you say that?” Truth be told, he’s the only fair thing in her very unfair life. Maybe she’s the one being unfair to him. But letting go of him right now would be like letting go of her will to breathe. 

“You know I’m dying, but you give yourself to me anyway.”

“We’re all dying, Thane.” Shepard wills herself to say it, though the thought of perishing again in Cerberus hands fills her mouth with bile. “You signed on for a suicide mission, remember?”

“You have so little faith in your future.” “Is it because of you d--”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Jane cuts him off, holding him tighter. 

“Siha--it’s okay to be afraid.”

“Thane, stop. I don’t”

“Shepard.” He tries to pull her back. She twists out of his grip. 

“I already told you.”

“Jane.” He says it so sharply that it makes her skin bleed. Jane Shepard freezes in his grasp, staring up at him. “I mean what I said.” The heel of his hand grazes the edge of her jaw, rough and smooth at the same time. “Fearing death will keep you, and everyone else alive.”

Her breath rattles within her chest, and she breathes in his scent. Maybe it’s her imagination, but he smells like a seashore. “How are you not afraid?”

Thane kisses her soothingly, then cradles her head against his chest. Shepard can hear the rasp as he breathes in and out. “I don’t believe death is the end. It’s only a rest after a long journey.”

“But how do you know you’re going to wake up in the ocean and swim to the shore?”

“Why are you asking me?” Thane looks down at her, frowning. You’re the expert on dying, Shepard. “Did you see anything?”

Shepard wants to lie to him--better to lie than break his heart, but she can’t. Shaking her head, she answers softly, “I wish I could believe like you do.”

“Then I shall have faith for both of us, Siha.” Thane kisses the top of her head. “And you’ll make sure we won’t need it.”

[himluv]

A Gift for the Dying

@forlornmelody, HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY from your Secret (Writer) Admirer! Thank you so much for being you! I hope you enjoyed the week of good vibes and well wishes, even if we did have to contend with stupid snow :(

As promised, I have a story for you. I sincerely hope you like it. Also, I recommend listening to this while you read.

Huerta Memorial Hospital was always a busy place, but since the Reapers arrived in the Milky Way there seemed to be an endless train of patients. Thane was long familiar with the hospital, so much so that much of the staff knew him on a first name basis. He frequently roamed the halls in the late evenings, quiet and contemplative, trying to still his worrying mind.

It’d been only twenty-four hours since the Reapers attacked Earth. News from the planet trickled in, and none of it was good. There were too many dead to count, names constantly ticking across vidscreens all over the Citadel. And those were just the dead that could be identified. And each hour Thane watched for the name he couldn’t bring himself to say outside of a prayer.

“Arashu,” he whispered as he wandered an intensive care ward. “Guide her. Let her fly far from those who would try and destroy her, swift and safe.” In the quiet of his mind he always added, bring her back to me.

Read at AO3

[drelldreams]

4x4 Appreciation Tag Game

Rules: pick four blogs you love and for each list four things what you love about this blog! tag the blogs to keep the game going :) (Only if you wish to participate and have time, of course!) You can also tag fewer or more blogs, and list fewer or more than four things if that‘s what you want.

Tagging: @sillyliterature

Things I love about your blog:

• First and foremost your fic Arashu’s Gift is a fine piece of art. Love it. (Not directly on your blog but linked, so I count it as a feature of your blog.)

• So much beautiful Thane content. Always worth a follow. I love going through your Thane tag

• Not afraid to reblog spicy Thane content which is always appreciated 😂😉

• That you often tag me so I can see the sexy stuff 😅 Don‘t wanna miss out on it.. thanks for that!

Also tagging @zet-sway

• You have some of the best icons I’ve seen on Tumblr. That’s literally Thane’s ass and damn.

• So many awesome drell headcanons. Both yours and the ones you reblog are awesome.

• Plenty of Irikah appreciation on your blog. Irikah is life.

• So much spicy Thane appreciation.. I‘ve yet to read most of your writing but what I‘ve read so far was hot.

@spectralhero

• Liselle appreciation. She is underrated and deserves more recognition.

• Also another fellow asari fan and Aria SIMP.

• Aaand someone who can appreciate Ashley Williams

• You contribute to my dash being filled with hot women 😅

@mistresstrevelyan

• Your Shrios screenshots are so fucking gorgeous I‘m in awe.

• I also love your Katja Shepard and she is so fucking beautiful and interesting. Thane is a lucky man.

• I love your fashion tag, especially the outfits for Katja. All the stuff she wears is so freaking beautiful and I just love people who reblog stuff their muses would wear.

• And I am a sucker for people who reblog poetry and literature quotes that fit their OTP and muse. Love the quotes you reblog.

.

[mosaiccreme]

Existential Crisis, Chapter 12: Side Effects

Patreon and ko-fi 

(snippet below)

Thane sat in meditation in Life Support. The breathing treatments the Normandy’s doctors prescribed left him feeling light-headed and jittery. In turn, the mild disorientation created unease and paranoia, making him uncertain of his surroundings and increasingly distrustful of the ship's crew. Particularly those bearing a Cerberus insignia. Dr. Chakwas assured him the feeling wouldn't last long.

He prayed she was right.

In the meantime, meditation proved useful in calming the turbulence of his mind and the racing of his heart. The idea of making the breathing treatments a part of his daily routine—perhaps indefinitely—was a daunting one. He would do it, nevertheless, he gave Kolyat his word.

Admittedly, it was overwhelming to think he might actually be approved for organ transplants. Pain and suffering aside—he would endure, he always endured—he simply didn’t know how to approach the concept of his life extending beyond a few more months. He’d prepared for death, made his final plans. What would he do with himself? After receiving transplants, would he be able to continue to work? Even if his health permitted, continuing on with such a dangerous life would be irresponsible, wouldn’t it? Putting his life at risk after receiving such a gift—a gift that might’ve saved the life of another—seemed ungrateful and disrespectful, dishonoring the life of the one who provided for him. Unless, perhaps, if he found a way to use his skills to save innocent lives the way he did while working with Shepard.

Ah, but that would be unfair to Kolyat.

Kolyat. His son. Sweet Arashu, he had a future to look forward to with his son, even if only a brief one. He had much to learn about his son and being a father to a grown man; perhaps he might succeed with an adult where he’d failed with a child. It was foolish to consider any of it just yet. He didn’t know when an approval might come in for a transplant, and by the time his name reached the top of the list … he’d likely already have gone to the sea.

The door to Life Support slid open, and he turned to look, a smile spreading across his lips when Shepard stepped inside. Pushing himself to his feet, he smoothed down his jacket and held a hand out to her. "Hello, siha."

“Hi,” she said, eyes lighting up as she stepped further into the room, letting the door slide closed behind her. Crossing the floor, she slipped her hand into his, smiling as she leaned in and turned her face up to him.

He kissed her, savoring the soft feel of her lips against his and pulled her in closer. Humming, she smiled and brought a hand to his frills, tongue cool to the touch as she traced his lower lip in invitation. He opened to her, finding hints of something sweet lingering on her tongue as he brushed over it, taking her into his mouth. The woman evoked so many conflicting emotions, fear and love, doubt and hope washed over him. Consumed him.

She pulled back, meeting his gaze, hand still caressing his frills. “I was a little afraid you wouldn’t still be here when I got back,” she said, voice soft as she gave him a sheepish smile.

“I’m not going anywhere, Jane.” He brought his hand up to her face, cupping her cheek.

Hand drifting down to settle on his chest, she asked, “So, no regrets?”

“Only that I hurt you and gave you reason to fear I would turn away from you again.” Leaning in, he rested his forehead against hers. “I intend to do my best to make it up to you.”

She smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Well, in that case … I was thinking it’d be really nice for us to do something together … off the ship.”

“Indeed.” Lifting his head, he held her gaze. “Do you have something in mind?”

She shrugged. “I know Omega isn’t exactly ideal, but we’re here, and I think there has to be at least one semi-decent restaurant in the Tuhi District.”

Chuckling, he brushed his thumb over her cheek. “Omega is a dangerous place.”

She grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief. “We’re dangerous people.”

“That we are.” He smiled and dipped his head. “However, if you don’t mind, I’d like to wait a little longer. I’m still recovering from the side effects of the breathing treatment Dr. Chakwas administered.”

“What side effects?” Brow creasing, she took a step back and glanced over him. “Are you okay?”

“I am.” He tightened his grip on her, a silent request not to pull away from him completely. “One of the medications is a steroid, and it left me a little light-headed as well as increased my heart rate. I feel weakened, and I have a slight tremble, but Dr. Chakwas assured me it will pass soon.”

“Oh. Well, we don’t have to go out.” She leaned back into him, giving him a quick kiss. “I’m happy just to be with you. We can have dinner in here or in the cabin if you’d rather.”

“Not at all. I would very much like to take you wherever you wish to go.” Using the hand still resting on her hip, he urged her to turn with him as he leaned against the edge of the table, pulling her in closer. “I just need a few minutes more.”

[ddtriohub]

arashu for the otp thing {imma compare my answers afterwards to see what differences we have haha of course i gotta answer mine too tho pfft}

Taken from meme: [x] ||Accepting||Boy did I try. Hopefully these make sense OTL 

1: Who spends almost all their money on the other?

Given the fact that Arashi likes to shop, I’d think Arashi would likely be the one to do this. Shugarl may buy a few things here and there if it makes him think of Arashi. Still, I sort of doubt that either of them would be stupid enough to spend almost all their money? If Arashi were to do that, I’m sure he knows Shugarl would scold him. Go return them. Now. Shugarl would not ever spend almost all his money on something like shopping, even if it were for someone else. That’s not happening.

2: Who sleeps in the other’s lap?

I think this can go either way to be honest. I can see that If Shugarl were to ask, Arashi would be okay with landing his lap. If the two of them were reading books on the couch and Arashi asked to borrow Shugarl’s lap, he’d allow it. I find it more likely that Shugarl would be the one sleeping in Arashi’s lap, but I don’t think that happens very often. I see the whole ‘Arashi slept on my shoulder, and I don’t want to wake him… so… if you can’t beat them join them’ situation where Shugarl just rests his head on Arashi’s and falls asleep as well.

3: Who walks around the house half-naked and who yells at them to put on some clothes?

Shugarl doesn’t exactly like to walk around not fully clothed. Especially given the fact that he’s got two noticeable scars on his chest/stomach. I can’t help but wonder if Arashi ever walks around half-naked? I feel like he might? Like 45% positive (which isn’t really positive at all, now is it?). If Arashi does this, Shugarl would only occasionally tell him to put a shirt on. No yelling. I don’t think Arashi would yell either? My sassy mind goes: Why yell when you can just stare and forget what was on your mind.

4: Which one tells the other not to stay up all night and which one stays up all night anyway?

DEF ARASHI TO SHUGARL. I feel like as a model you have to have a pretty good sleeping schedule. If he ever has to stay up late because of schooling, that’s inevitable but Shugarl is a workaholic, so staying up late is a constant thing for him.

5: Which one tries to make food for the other but burns it all by accident and which one tells them that it’s okay and makes them both cookies?

I think Arashi is more likely to burn the food than Shugarl is considering he excels in cooking/baking. It’s all a science after all.

6: Which one reads OTP prompts and says “Oh that’s us!” and which one goes “Eh, not really”?

LOL Totally Arashi, and Shugarl stares at it and either goes:

Hmph= I can see what you mean… Is that right? = I don’t agree fully, but it’s alright. [silence, and looks away] = Absolutely not.

7: Which one constantly wears the other’s clothes?

Shugarl prefers his suits and what not and really fashionable clothes just does not appeal to him like why does that have holes? Why does that look like you spilled chlorine on it? No. I don’t really see Arashi wearing Shugarl’s clothes either. Not outside anyways. I can see him just wearing Shugarl’s dress shirts around the condo? Like maybe wears them to sleep.

8: Which one spends all day running errands and which one says “You remembered [thing], right?”

Trick question, neither would spend ‘all day’ running errands. I think it sounds more accurate that they spread out their errands over the week. They’re both busy people. You can’t waste a full day. Shugarl does probably try to remind Arashi of things though. I can almost see Arashi forgetting to tell Shugarl something and then trying to speak as if he’s reminding Shugarl but this man aint having that and he goes: ‘First I’ve heard of this. You sure you didn’t forget to tell me the first time around?’ I dunno, but that’s the image I have.

9: Which one drives the car and which one gives them directions?

I feel as though Arashi doesn’t know how to drive because if I recall correctly not too many people in Japan actually own a car? If you don’t, what’s the point of having a license? Shugarl knows how to drive so he’d be the one driving and Arashi could give directions. Though Shugarl is the type to have already done his research so it’s just: “I know where I’m going” and actually knows where he’s going.

10: Which one does the posing while the other one draws?

Shugarl draws and Arashi poses like the model that he is.

11: If they were about to rob a museum, which one does backflips through lasers and which one is strolling behind with a bag of chips?

This would never happen, but I mean Arashi is pretty athletic, but idk about backflipping through lasers? Shugarl is athletic as well and can certainly do backflips given the martial arts under his belt. So I guess Shugarl would be the one doing the backflips—but I honestly think it would be more like: Arashi just walking around cautiously not knowing that Shugarl already deactivated the lasers so he’s just watching Arashi struggle with a smirk on his face.

12: Which one of your OTP overdoes it on the alcohol and which one makes the other stop drinking?

I mean… with Arashi’s bad habits… I can see Shugarl stopping him. The Graduate student is pretty good at pacing himself so it’s very rare when he overdoes it. If he does, Arashi will have to struggle to stop him. He only drinks like that when he’s really upset.

13: Which one likes to surprise the other with a lot of small random gifts?

I honestly think both of them do this. Shugarl would be browsing around, find something and buy it for Arashi. Likely small accessories and the like. A lot of the times he opts for making sweets because he knows Arashi likes sweets. As for Arashi, I feel like I recall it being said that he enjoys buying things for other people? As such I feel like Arashi would enjoy buying small things here and there for Shugarl as well.

14: Which one keeps accidentally using the other’s last name instead of their own?

Nope.

15: Which one screams about the spider and which one brings the spider outside?

Honestly Arashi will have to be the one to scream. Shugarl Geripeta simply does not scream over a spider. He’ll bring it outside and let it go freely.

16: Which one gives the other their jacket?

Arashi has shown a bit of clumsy moments, and you know, sometimes you dress for fashion. You don’t think about conventional stuff. I can see Arashi dressing a lil bit too light for the weather and Shugarl giving him his jacket. I imagine that Arashi will feel bad like ‘you’ll get cold, I’m fine’. Shugarl wouldn’t take that though and tell him to wear it and then taking Arashi’s hand, just walk over to a café so they can warm up with some coffee or something for a while. If they’re like out and just sitting around on a bench, then it is the classic ‘just drape the dang thing over both of them!’ trope if Arashi puts up a fight.

17: Who keeps getting threatened by the other’s overprotective older sibling?

… //Shugarl’s ready to fight Arashi’s older brother--- jk. I somehow doubt that Arashi’s older brother would be threatening Shugarl? I mean you sure can try but it won’t get you anywhere. Shugarl has no older brother (that we know of) so it’s like------ this can’t apply to Arashi.

18: Who’s the first one to admit they have feelings for the other?

I mean. //stares at Arashi straight up being like ‘I’d like to court you’ in canon threads. I think we know the answer here. Shugarl is also an emotional idiot so it’ll take some time for him to admit to it.

19: How good would your OTP be at parenting?

I mean, Arashi would make a good Mom and Shugarl would be that strict father who will at occasion spoil the life out of his kids. Break any of the house rules and you’ll get a major scolding though.

20: Which one types with perfect grammar and which one types using numbers as letters?

I don’t see either of them doing the latter. That’s not happening. If Arashi tried that, Shugarl wouldn’t answer. If Shugarl did that, I’m sure Arashi just squints at the phone like: ‘who is this imposter’?

21: Who gets attacked by a bully and who protects them?

Physically, Shugarl would be more likely to protect Arashi. Crazed fans or whatever. Emotionally, Arashi would be the one that would have to protect Shugarl because certain things can set him off and I don’t think Arashi would let anyone get away with hurting Shugarl emotionally. Shugarl can fend for himself in a physical fight, so I don’t think Arashi really even stands a chance to do anything here.

22: Who makes the bad puns and who makes a pained smile every time the other makes a pun?

I can see Arashi making small puns every once in a while to see if he can get Shugarl to smile. Then realizes ‘duh, of course math puns!!!’ Shugarl appreciates said math puns. Just shakes his head with a small exasperated half-smile. If Arashi gets into the habit of telling many puns, Shugarl would start to tell his own.

23: Who comes home from work to see that the other one bought a puppy?

Shugarl, why? Shugarl does not like dogs at all. He’d NEVER bring home a puppy. I can only see Arashi bringing home a puppy if he’s doing a favor for a friend. Even so I don’t think this would happen because Nyanko would not be a happy kitty.

24: Which one gives the other a piggyback ride when they’re tired?

The idea of Arashi giving Shugarl a piggyback ride honestly scares me. Let’s not. It will be another thing that ruins my lil image of adorable and pretty Arashi. I vote Shugarl spoiling Arashi would result in him giving the tired model a piggyback ride.

25: Which one competes in some sort of activity and which one does the overzealous cheering?

Overzealous cheering? Gotta be Arashi then. Shugarl doesn’t do zealous. He does Jealous, but not zealous.

26: Who takes a selfie when the other one falls asleep on their shoulder?

I imagine Arashi sleeps on Shugarl’s shoulder often and if he thinks of it, Shugarl would snap a picture, but only of Arashi. That doesn’t really count as a selfie then, does it? If Arashi wakes up to realize Shugarl is sleeping on him, I can so see the model that always has his phone on him to snap a picture or two… or three.

27: Which one would give the other a makeover if they asked?

… LOLOLOLLOLOLOLOLOLOLOOLLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLShugarl wouldn’t ask for a makeover ever and Arashi likely wouldn’t ask that of Shugarl who doesn’t really know anything about fashion. Now if makeovers can just stop at clothing, I can see Shugarl allowing Arashi to try to find clothes he’d like to see him try on? Does that count? Though that’s more dress up than a makeover.

28: Which one owns a pet that the other is absolutely terrified of?

Nope.

29: Which one holds the umbrella over both of them when it rains?

Shugarl is the taller of the two, so it’d be best if he did so. This way he can also ensure that Arashi doesn’t do that thing, the classic: ‘Let me angle the umbrella so you stay very dry while my shoulder gets wet’ kinda thing. He doesn’t know if Arashi would do this, but he’s not taking his chances. Instead, he’ll hold the umbrella and pull the other in close so both stay nice and dry.

30: If your OTP went on vacation, where would they go and what would they do? Who would take the pictures?

Arashi would be the one taking lots of pictures, probably asks for a few selfies here and there. I honestly think they’d either go visit Japan or the US for their first vacation because home countries ftw! I think Japan would go first, because Shugarl would be interested in visiting the country his mother was born in. Along the way, he can introduce himself to Arashi’s family. While in Japan, they can visit all kinds of touristy places, maybe even Yumenosaki.

[avengingsorrow]

Siha: This Night Alone

'Sleep well. And dream of bulbous women.' "Arashu, goddess of motherhood and protection, help protect my Siha from any wrong-doings I shall possess in the future. Protect her from death if we were to ever mate. And Arashu, protect her from hurt when I die." Thane said a quiet prayer as he neared Raven's cabin, keeping his head bowed. Now was the time to spend some alone time with the woman, away from other people on the floor. This level of the Normandy only had one room on it. Raven's quarters. Thane entered the cabin quietly and walked down the few steps towards the bed, looking at the beautiful fish on his left while he passed the aquarium on the wall. Raven was asleep, of course, so Thane was very quiet upon slipping into her bed with her. If only to just sleep with her tonight. Raven shifted only slightly when she felt Thane enter the bed. Hell, she knew it was him without even having to look by the way the scent that caught her nostrils made her smile automatically. Such a sweet scent. Clean. "Thane, what a surprise." "Who else would it be, Siha? I came to lay with you. I can't sleep alone. No one knows about us, Siha." Thane wrapped his arm around Raven and drew the woman closer, placing a small kiss on her ear. "Turn to me, Siha. I want to see your face." Raven turned around from the spooning position and faced Thane, gasping lightly at just how close to him she was. She smiled warmly at the feeling of his smooth and plump lips pressing to her forehead, but it still wasn't a real kiss. That's what she really wanted. Thane sat up after a moment and grabbed Raven's hand, gently pressing a kiss to her fingers. "I wish to do more with you, but you'll probably die. I've been praying to Arashu. If she hears me, she will protect you from any harm I can do to you. We must have very little oral contact. My secretions are--" "I've been talking to Mordin. And...he gave me some ointments for rashes and pills to help ward off any poisons you may give me. There isn't a way to turn it off, is there?" "I am always on high alert. My body secretes these poisons always." "That's why I'm going to take a pill and rub the ointment all over my body before we do anything. Feeling lonely, love?" Raven couldn't blame him. She had been lonely for years too. Sure, hiring a person to have sex with you was one option, but it wasn't someone you loved. "Always, Siha. Let me help you." Thane rose from his position and got the pills from beside the bed and ointment. He took one pill from the bottle and got a glass of water for Raven from her personal bathroom and handed the pill and glass of water to her. Raven downed them both, smiling alluringly at the man. She took the ointment from him and got up, got undressed slowly for his pleasure, and rubbed the ointment on every part of her body. She was ready if anything was going to happen tonight. Thane slowly sunk back down onto the bed while he enjoyed a show of Raven teasing him and showing off her human anatomy to him. Now that he thought about it, Raven's body looked a lot like a Drell female body. Maybe their anatomy would mend together just fine, after all. When Raven was done, Thane got up and removed his coat slowly, taking his time to tease back and mentally thank each of his higher beings for this perfect moment. His body was very similar to a human male, but with scales and more ridges. He had beautiful deep green stripes covering his arms, legs, chest, and back. And his penis was just the right size, though less defined than a human penis. Still, she had no complaints. "Are we to make love, Siha? The longer I look at your body, the more I want you." Thane ran his hands over his body slowly, feeling a bit shy. Maybe she didn't like the color of his skin? "I've prepared. But for now, I'm waiting for the pill to kick in. Until then, let me explore you, Thane." The woman gently patted the bed next to her. The thought of what Raven was going to do to him excited Thane to no end, making him go erect at the very mention of fun to come. Could she see his face turn a darker green as he blushed? Thane laid back beside Raven, relaxing fully, but Raven couldn't wait any longer. Seeing especially attractive men naked made her soak her panties when they were nearby. It was unprofessional and probably her deepest secret. She had no shame, because she wanted Thane. Thane ran his fingers through Raven's hair as she kissed every part of him, her lips tingling gently. She didn't mind the tingle since it made her even more excited for the events to come. Thane quickly flipped them over after about fifteen minutes of Raven exploring his anatomy with her lips, his erection now painful and dripping with his moist excitement. He had never had a human before, only other Drell, though Asari were tempting. "Enough playing around, Siha. You will make my loins explode if I can't release soon. It's a true story. I've seen it happen to other Drell." Raven simply giggled and slid her hands over Thane's shoulders as he spread her legs with his own. Her scent was strong and she was dripping wet practically. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Raven was ready for him. Thane moved forward and grabbed his cock gently, aiming it for her clit, then slid it down to her hole, then back up again for a few moments. He was gifted with a few loud moans from the female and her nails digging into his back gently. Enough fooling around. The Drell male moved forward and entered her with one quick thrust, making the woman gasp, then moan lowly. A thought occured to the male and he paused his actions. They hadn't even kissed on the mouth yet. Surely the pill had kicked in, so Thane leaned down and captured her lips with his. Why had they waited to kiss? This was magic! Her lips were soft and tasted faintly of her cherry chapstick. And they were so soft. Nothing could compare to how soft they were. Raven kept the man pulled in close to her and moved her hips gently, indicating she was getting impatient and was, simply, horny as all hell. Thane got the hint and began moving fast. The sounds of skin slapping on skin and wetness filled the cabin, a few gasps and moans that he withdrew from Raven exciting him even more. Raven loved it that Thane liked it fast. He was to-the-point and she wouldn't have it any other way. "Siha--I'm so near..."Thane panted lightly, speeding his thrusting up slightly. He assumed it was alright to release inside of her, considering she wouldn't be able to get pregnant from his seed he figured. He gasped and let his orgasm wash over him, his white pearls being pushed deep inside of her womb as Raven clenched around him tightly. Her orgasm seemed to be triggered by the feeling of being filled with hot semen, erotic as all hell. Thane gently laid on Raven to gain his composure from such an intense session of sex. Raven was left wanting more and switched their positions, taking to pleasing the Drell all night long and Thane returning the favor just as many times.

[zet-sway]

Spiritual Shrios Summer Fill - “Caress"

My third fill for @rosenkow's Spiritual Shrios Summer! I wanted a happy ending for these lovebirds, so pardon my AU. I slammed down the rough draft while vibing hard to Hozier and Ed Sheeran.

PROMPT WORD: CARESS | WORDS: 2246 Rated: "S" for "Soft & Spicy" AO3 Link: "Safe, Warm, and Whole" Pairing: Thane / FemShep Setting: Recently Post-War, Thane Survives AU Summary: "I can't sleep," she mumbled. "If you aren't too tired..." Her voice trailed off, her statement finishing with telling hand trailing across his hip, straying close to the sensitive scales below his abdomen.

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The soft chill of night air filtered through the open window in their shared flat as Shepard stepped out of the bathroom on sore, aching feet. Fresh from a cold shower, shoulders dropped with fatigue, she managed a smile at him across the room. Thane looked up from his reading. "Siha, how are you feeling?" "Exhausted." She looked it, too. Ever since the war had ended, combat seemed to always take a heavier toll on her body. Her armor powered her through the field, but in their private quarters, she carried herself on tired legs, fresh bruises peeking out from beneath her shirtsleeves. He would kiss them away if he could. Thane stood and guided her into his arms. "Come to bed with me. I think you've earned a good rest." Their flat - if it could even be called a flat - was barebones, no better than any military dormitory she's ever stayed in. White walls, cold floor tiles, and almost no décor to speak of. It was clean, at least. Six months since the war had ended, humanity had made little to no progress reclaiming the comforts they'd enjoyed before the reapers. Still, some inspired soldier had managed to requisition an old bed that was bigger than the standard issue Alliance bunk size - a gift for the legend herself, and her partner. He eased her down onto the sheets with steady arms. "It's too quiet in here," Shepard groaned as she laid down. "I'm sure the Alliance would be willing to relocate us to one of the orbital stations," he said, undressing before joining her in bed. She made an annoyed sound. "They need me here." It was mostly true. The alliance was still uncovering disorganized pockets of reaper forces, most of them in the underground byways of urban centers. It's what she spent her days doing. Strapping on the same old armor and delving into close quarters to fight cannibals, brutes, and whatever other monsters lurked in the dark. He wanted so badly for her to rest, but she wouldn't have it. The three months she spent held up in the field hospital were agony for her, and not simply because she was in pain. That restless mind, her patchwork cybernetic body giving her inhuman reserves of energy that her organic parts simply couldn't keep pace with. Even the Alliance had tried to offer her diplomatic work - something she had laughed off. "Come back when you're ready to let me do my job." Still, Shepard found planetside silence deafening. Sleep was harder to claim without the white noise of a cruiser. She talked often of the thrumming of engines on ships she'd lived on for most of her life. Thane himself rather enjoyed the quiet sounds of Earth, but it didn't much matter to him where they were. As long as she came home to him at night. "What will you do once the ground work is complete?" he said, settling in beside her. "I can't fucking wait," came her muffled response, face stuffed into a pillow. "Maybe then we can get back into space. Help with the Citadel reclamation." She turned to look at him then, squinting against the light on his nightstand. "If that's okay with you." "My love," he said, switching off the light and kissing her forehead, "I would follow you to the edge of the world if you'll have me." She swatted at him weakly. "You're sickeningly sweet." Thane's face contorted in an exaggerated frown, but his voice betrayed his mirth. "I make you sick?" She rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean." "I love you too, Siha," he chuckled, and gathered her into his arms. Indeed it had taken him a little while to get used to living with humans and their ample use of sarcasm, but he did understand her. By now he had long since stopped using his translator. Earth was becoming more familiar to him by the day, and he was surprised to find so many humans eager for his help. That he wasn't Alliance didn't seem important when so much needed doing. When he refused to leave her hospital bedside, they busied him with menial tasks around the infirmary and he was surprised to find he enjoyed the small role he had in healing the injured. Most of all, he thanked Arashu each and every day for her unbelievable

blessing, to have Shepard here, curling into his chest, safe, warm, and whole. She wriggled against him, humming quietly as she found a more favorable position with her knee over his and her face in the warm velvety frill of his neck. Soft breaths rolled over him and he trilled in response, the sound vibrating in his chest. They fit together so seamlessly that he could never be sure if she teased him like this deliberately or simply out of comfort, but warmth of her breath over his throat made his body stir in irresponsible ways, considering her state of fatigue. With some amount of guilt, he shifted away from her. She reacted, her arm tightened about his waist to press him close and this time she did it on purpose, gentle lips kissing his throat once, then twice with an open mouth, with a small hum of satisfaction. Her intentions were loud and clear. "I thought you were exhausted," he mused into her hair. Ambient light from outside spilled through their open window and illuminated her in the dreamy shades of nighttime. Her eyes were closed, body tucked tight against him. Like holding the entire world in his arms, he swelled with adoration. "I can't sleep," she mumbled. "If you aren't too tired..." Her voice trailed off, her statement finishing with telling hand trailing across his hip, straying close to the sensitive scales below his abdomen. "Mm," he pretended to consider, knowing exactly what she wanted. "I may be able to help. What do you require?" It would be a cold day in hell when he was too tired for her. She kissed his neck again, her palm flattening against the small of his back and dragging it slowly over his backside. "Touch me," she whispered. Warmth bloomed in his chest, the heat of desire washing over him. "It would be my pleasure," he rumbled. Slowly, he pushed her shorts off her hips and eased her on to her back. Eyes closed, licking her lips in contented anticipation, he watched her chest rise and fall with each contented breath. Hands slid across her belly, easing her t-shirt up over her head and she accommodated him, rising just enough to pull it off and flicking it lazily on to the other side of the bed. Relaxed as he'd ever seen, her undressed body laid before him, dotted with scars and stories he knew so well. He pulled himself over her, meeting her lips in an unhurried kiss. She stretched against him, warming beneath his body, hands wandering across the defined lines of his shoulders and spine as though she knew his stripes by memory alone. He gathered her breasts together from where they rolled to her sides and gazed up at her face as he kissed the deliciously soft valley between them. Thumbs running over each hardening peak, he watched her expression as he teased her if only just to see the gleaming edges of her teeth drawing her lower lip into her mouth. Her eyelashes fluttered as he squeezed her flesh gently, closing his lips over first one nipple, then the other. She arched up to meet his eager tongue, heavy breaths rushing from her lungs as though the pressure of his hands drove the air from her body. Beneath him, he could feel her core flex with each flick of his tongue and twist of his fingers "Fuck," she moaned. He couldn't help but watch her, eyes closed, lips parted, chest heaving against his hands as he stoked her lust from a smolder to an irresistible flame. His gentle mouth began to work its way down across the hard plane of her abdomen. Beneath the scent of standard issue soap, he could smell the salt of her skin, pausing to place an appreciative kiss atop her mound before his hands curled around the juncture of her hips. Her breathing was ragged as his thumbs parted her eager, heated flesh for his appreciation. The first time they'd done this he'd had to talk her down from her insecurities. The memory made him feel possessive, nearly angered by the notion that some other man had turned down privilege of knowing her this way. Thane let his breath ghost over her glistening center, thumbs dragging firmly up and down her folds just to hear her moan for him. The urge

to tease her was irresistible. It was with a knowing smirk that he finally bent his mouth to her, tasting her earthy, salty flesh - her hitched gasps like music to his ears. She told him once that he put human lovers to shame, and he was proud - perhaps the only man in existence who pried the secrets of her pleasure straight from her lips. He knew exactly how to touch her simply because he'd asked. The sounds she made when he laved his tongue over her clit were low and resounding reminders of how painfully hard he was in his shorts. Her fingertips trailed along his sensitive jaw, feeling him work as he ate her greedily. "Don't stop," she whispered. He grinned against her sex, teasing her entrance with two fused fingers, pushing slowly inside her heat only to brush against her center and slip out, again and again. Patiently, he devoured her, walking her closer to the edge one searing second at a time until her head was thrown back, her spine arched off the bed, fingers trembling against his scalp. He loved this. Every time he went down on her his mind trailed over every single time previous - recalling the exact intonation of her voice, the press of her hands, the way she tensed her thighs as she neared the peak of her pleasure. By now, he could tell precisely when to set her off. He edged her for a few seconds longer. She was close, so close. She came with a shout, her clutching fingers carefully telegraphing how long he could continue to draw out her climax before she trembled and sagged, clenching her oversensitive flesh away from his hungry mouth. "Holy shit, Thane," she gasped, heaving for breath and sprawling against the mattress. He climbed atop her and she kissed him without hesitation and he growled - he couldn't deny he found it irrefutably erotic how she cleaned the taste of herself off his lips. Clumsy hands fumbled at his shorts, stroking his burning length, urging him to bring it to her lips. Maybe another night - he thought. Right now he burned to bury himself inside her. He felt her tense in anticipation, her eyes cracked open and gleaming in the moonlight, slowly blinking up at him with a look so unguarded he could have wept. She guided him to her slick entrance and he slowly pushed inside, groaning as her hungry, supple flesh tempted him into her scorching depths and at last, he hilted inside her. He set a languid pace, cradling her hips in his hands, searching for the perfect angle to make her see the stars she missed so dearly behind her closed eyes. With her core hypersensitive in the glow of her climax, she clutched at him desperately, nails digging into the scales of his back with such force he thought for sure they would be discolored before long. He didn't care. Becoming one with her, seeing her completely blissed out by each roll of his hips and knowing he could make her feel this way made him shake with wanting. He covered her with his body, ravishing her lips against pleasured cries that came so resoundingly he was sure to hear "who was getting lucky last night?" in the morning. He belonged to her - this night and as many nights as she wanted him. She made him delirious in her pleasure. Her body demanded his release. Held within her wanting arms, he finally succumbed with a hoarse, drawn out cry. For seconds he was infinite, a whirlwind of white hot ecstasy fraying him apart until he found his sweetest end in her embrace. And then there was nothing but her and the caress of crisp, evening air wafting over him. A gift from the earth to bless their joining. He shivered with the aftershocks. Soft hands trailed down his back. He didn't know how long they remained before separating. In the afterglow, memories overtook him easily. Vivid remembrances of Irikah and Shepard tumbled together and he slipped in and out of them like the rolling of coastal waters. It was difficult to rationalize how he could deserve either of them, what he could have done to earn the love of the fierce and cosmic women who touched his heart. But as Shepard's breathing slowed from heavy to peaceful beside him,

his doubts were pushed aside. Arashu herself had sent him a divine protector, and he would not refuse her gifts. "You're the best," she murmured against him, and he could hear the daze of sleep trailing her gentle voice. Just a sigh of breath as she tucked her head against his chest and whispered:

"I love you." - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Thanks for reading!

If you like creating shrios content, you're welcome to hop on board the challenge! My previous fills [AO3]:

Secrets in the Steam [Prompt: Wet]

Your Gods are My Gods [Prompt: Pray]