#he gets up and salutes shepard

[zeroslashsix]

The “Shepard Effect” has gotten so much funnier to me as I replay Mass Effect. The thing where all Shep’s squadmates end up flying the nest and becoming big important players in their own spheres? Like the random mercenary Shep brought along to hunt Saren ended up leading his entire species, that random Quarian kiddo on her Pilgrimage ends up as her species ambassador, the Virmire survivor becomes the next human Specter, etc. It’s the effect Shepard just has on the people around them that launches their careers/destinies... except it doesn’t apply to Shepard themself. I get the marketing plan of “Commander Shepard” being the only title so they’re more recognizeable to a gamer audience, but from a military perspective it is so fucking funny that Commander Shepard doesn’t get promoted once. Like not even posthumously, not even after saving the Citadel and killing Reapers left and right, all the while their squadmates are jumping from lieutenant to major, kid to ambassador, professor to Shadow Broker. Garrus isn’t even attached to any government body, and he still goes from C-Sec officer to Omega vigilante to Reaper expert(?) in the turian Hierarchy. It’s unclear what his official position is in the third game, but we know he gets a salute from a Hierarchy general.

And here’s Shepard cruising through, still a Commander because obviously they haven’t done a single thing worthy of promotion since the first game. No, it’s fine, they’ll fix everything for you and keep killing Reapers left and right. Died in the line of duty? Just a normal tuesday for Commander Shepard, nothing noteworthy here. Yes they will be the commanding officer of a major, there is nothing strange about this rank structure. 

[laelior]

The Weight of the World

To: Master Operations Chief (ret.) Margaret Shepard

This letter is to inform you that your granddaughter, Lieutenant Commander Bethany Shepard, was presumed killed in action following the destruction of the SSV Normandy by unknown enemy forces on December 5, 2183. 

Lieutenant Commander Shepard’s service with the Alliance was an example to us all and her heroic actions in service both to Earth and the Citadel Council will never be forgotten. 

At this time, we are unable to publicly announce details related to the destruction of the SSV Normandy. At such a time when we are able, rest assured that the Alliance will lay Lieutenant Commander Shepard to rest with full military honors.

Please accept my sincerest condolences for your loss.

Adm. Steven HackettAlliance 5th Fleet Command

Anderson sat in the back of his skycar, numbly rehearsing the words of the letter in his hands over the neatly-folded Alliance flag and Alliance-stamped urn in his lap. God, for such a small jar it must have weighed a ton. Nevermind that it was empty.

His eyes continually wandered to the shallow, formulaic words on the flimsy paper in his hands, hoping that somehow they’d magically rearrange themselves into something less weighty than the gravitational pull of a whole damn planet before the skycar touched down.

Hackett had already sent nineteen letters just like the one in his hands to nineteen different addresses. Letters addressed to Preslies, Dravens, Tanakas and so forth. Letters only confirming what the rumor mill had already been circulating for months. Letters delivered by NCOs and junior officers with black bands around their arms as a thin show of solidarity for their losses. It had been tempting to pass this particular letter off to someone else, too, but some things just had to be done.

“We’re almost there, sir,” the driver said.

The skycar gently touched down on the street next to a neat little house with an immaculately maintained garden. Even in the dead of winter the hedges were neatly trimmed and the flower beds were freshly mulched.

The driver went out to ring the doorbell while Anderson slowly gathered himself for the news he had to deliver.

The woman who came out to the front porch to greet him after a moment was smaller than he expected. He’d never met her before, but Peggy Shepard was a legend in her own right. One of the founding mothers of the Alliance non-commissioned officer’s corp and one of the best damn sniper instructors the service ever had. Hell, her 500-meter longshot record had stood for nearly forty years and had only been broken a few years ago by Lieutenant Coats.

And she didn’t need a letter to tell her why he was here. That was obvious from the hard, steely look in her eyes that flicked to his uniform, the flag tucked under one arm, and the black band around the other. Her eyes lingered on the captain’s stars on his lapel and her hand twitched at her side, fighting the reflexive urge to salute. Old habits died hard, and habits drilled in by a lifetime of military discipline were harder to kill than most. When she looked him right in the eye, though, Anderson had to fight the urge to flinch.

Throughout his military career, Anderson had faced more threats than he cared to count, from the petty political rivalries that riddled the service right up to Saren himself. And just then he would have rather faced down Sovereign itself if it meant getting away from the look in her eyes.

She was no stranger to this ritual. A casual glimpse at the Shepard family tree told him how many of its branches had been pruned like this. But that never meant it was easy to be the bearer of this particular news.

“Ma’am,” he intoned formally. Formalities were good. They were safe. He held up the folded flag and offered it to her with both hands. But before he could so much as open his mouth to say the words that were the next part of the ritual, she held up a hand and drew in a shaky breath.

“It’s true, isn’t it? What they’ve been saying?” She asked quietly. No need to ask what they were saying.

Anderson could only nod stiffly. “I’m afraid so, ma’am.”

She quietly accepted the flag, taking the weight from him and hugging it closely to her chest. 

“The Alliance offers its sincerest condolences for your loss,” he intoned, getting back to the words of the ritual. “If there’s anything we can do for you….” He trailed off. There was nothing the Alliance could do for her that would remotely make up for the magnitude of her loss, and there was no point pretending otherwise. 

She nodded in acknowledgement of the harsh, unspoken truth that passed between them.

“I need to make arrangements,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, before turning back into her house and letting the door slam shut behind her. The large wooden door closed with a resounding thud that made him flinch with its finality. He set the urn and the letter down on the porch table next to the door and went back to the car, his duty thus discharged.

If it was a tragedy for a parent to bury their child, then it was an utter goddamn travesty for a grandparent to lower their grandchild’s casket into the ground.

The driver cleared his throat, cutting across the uncomfortable silence that filled the car. “Where to next, sir?”

“Norfolk,” he said, picking the closest Alliance base he could think of off-hand. The car began its ascent, leaving the view of the Shepard household behind.  “Drop me off at the officer’s club, and tell them to have a glass of Ardbeg 16 ready, no ice.”

Something to wash away the ashy taste of having been the one to send Peggy Shepard’s granddaughter to her empty grave.

[magnoliabutters]

HOW ABOUT THAT WINE?

pairing: garrus "archangel" vakarian x fem!shepard

inspiration: @chestharrington’s lazy ghoul's kinktober → week one: love making

warnings: 18+ content, mdni; mass effect 2 spoilers & references, dorky fluff, dom smut vibes, lovey dovey, p in v, cunnalingus, human anatomy, etc.

word count: ~3.4k

note: it is the beginning of kinktober, y'all! straight from a writing hiatus and right into some alien (*cough* turian) smut. let's get freaky kinky dinky babes...

You're crazy about him. Abundantly crazy. There isn't a minute - no, a second that goes by where his name isn't scribbled all over your mind. The way he makes you feel, god. It's almost like he doesn't even know what power he holds over you.

You thought a shower might help clear your mind, but it only gave you a room filled with steam and thoughts. You are already red hot, pink in the cheeks from just saying good night after your last mission. He shot you a smile and you instantly turned into an absolute puddle. Does he even know the power he holds over you?

Garrus Vakarian is all you can think about - clothed, armored, naked. Nothing else matters.

And yet, some how - some way, this man has no idea what he does to you. He walks around the Normandy without a single care in the world. Not knowing in the slightest how quick you'd drop to your knees, begging him to carry you up to your cabin and fuck you better than you've ever had.

For now, there's only simple greetings and salutations. Professionalism at its max, seeing as you are his superior. God, you could hear Alliance HR calling after your last conversation with Garrus.

All that talk about how turians like to release some stress after harrowing missions... Now, after every mission, you bite your tongue until you can scream into your pillow.

Brushing your hair back, you let the warm water sink into your scalp. You hope - no, pray that these feelings go away. At least until the squad gets through the Omega-4 Relay, if we make it back.

The pipes squeak as you hastily turn off the water. You throw the towel over your body, soaking up all the moisture from your slick skin. Another towel to your face as you reach the corners of your eyes and rub the texture against the tops of your cheeks. Your hair is still wet as you tie it into a loose bun. Strands fall without any distinct pattern around your head.

One last wrap around your body, and you make your way back into the cabin. As you turn the corner, you catch a glimpse of the sweetest, most delicate man wearing his nicest blues and with wine in hand.

"Hey," he says with that dark melodic voice.

Your jaw slightly drops. Your brows raise and lips quiver as you stand before him in your white towel. His eyes stray to your chest, down your stomach and to the tops of your thighs. "I - I'm sorry, you need to get dressed."

Garrus turns to walk out the door, but a hand at his shoulder stops him. "What do you have there, soldier?" you ask with a bit of tease. You could care less about getting dressed. Hell, the quicker you get this towel off the better.

"I brought wine," he answers nervously. "Best I could afford on a vigilante's salary."

Your cheeks perk into a smile as happy little butterflies fill your chest. Eyes upon him, begging for him to ravish you right here - right now. Push you up against the desk and fuck you until you both pass out.

Alas, those seductress eyes fill him with worry. Garrus rushes towards the sound system. His finger furiously tapping against the holo until a fast-tempo, bass rattles your ribcage.

With hopeful brows raised to the heavens, you watch as he timidly sways to the beat. Your heart calls for him. Your sweet, little nerdy boy. How he ever got anyone before you is beyond you, but - hell, he'll never have anyone else after you.

You waltz over him with seductive movements in your steps. Your tongue runs over the smooth of your lips. Your lashes bat his way, forcing his grip to tighten at the bottle's neck. Your smile gentle and inviting, wanting nothing more than his hands upon your body.

"If you were a turian, I'd be complimenting your waist or your fringe," Garrus states, trying his hardest not to be overwhelmed by your sexuality. His head is down with eyes watching his stimming fingers. "So...," he takes a deep breath before slowly raking up your body. "Your, uh, hair looks good. And your waist is very supportive."

You giggle with a hand planted at your hip. Everything he does, everything he says fuels that fire in your stomach. The need - the desire to feel his touch. God, you wish you could find some excuse for accidentally dropping your towel, but no. It would be much much better if he was the one pulling it off you.

With silence being too much for him to bear, Garrus carries on, "Hopefully that's not offensive in human culture." He takes a deep sigh, realizing he is still too formal. "Crap, I should've watched the vids Mordin sent." Spouting off facts like this, you and him, was some kind of science experiment - interspecies intercourse.

Recognizing the face of self-deprecating thoughts, you raise your hand and land it against his shoulder. "Whoa! Consider me seduced, smooth talker." You pull yourself closer into him. He peers down at your face, taking shivering breaths at your proximity. "Now shut up and stop worrying."

You squeeze his shoulder before trailing your palm across his chest. You walk over to the sound system and turn down the blaring noise. All you want to hear is him. All you want to see is him. You lean back against the wall, kicking your foot up as you shoot him your shining smile.

But something troubles him.

Garrus' head falls once again. He doesn't close the space between you two like you had thought. His words soft and sincere. "I just... I've seen so many things go wrong, Shepard. My work C-Sec, what happened with Sidonis..."

You push off the wall. Your hand falls at his scarred cheek. The silly boy thinks his wound is what got you interested, when you would have easily been in his bed back when they were dealing with Sovereign.

"I want something to go right, just once."

His ocean eyes raise to yours. They are humble, gentle, and vulnerable. It almost aches your heart. The way they peer into you - hell, like he's peering into your soul. Muscles in your face soften as you let him in. Let everything in.

This isn't just a fling. This isn't just because you're able to go on a suicide mission. No, you found something that you've never had before. You both found something within each other. You didn't understand what it meant to have a bondmate until this moment, until looking into these eyes.

You love him, more than you've loved anything or anyone in your life.

Almost as though he was drawing you in, you and Garrus both lean in with foreheads pressed against each other. Soft and powerful. You feel that fire reignite deeper within you.

You can feel the heat resonating off his chest as he pulls you in closer. His hands slowly guide your own back to your sides. With a single finger, he tilts your chin up to look at him. Your lips part as all the breath escapes you.

Garrus' eyes look at all features of your face, bouncing back and forth until they land on your lips. His hand finds its way at the base of your skull. He pulls you in with a force you did not expect.

His lips press against yours, firm and tight. Your hands fall into the concave of his lower back, pulling him into you. As his fingers dig into your hair, you can feel his lips begin to relax. They become pliable and gentle.

You brush your tongue against his mouth, begging for more. Garrus is more than happy to oblige as he slightly parts his lips and digs his hips against your stomach. Your tongue is deep within, crashing against his own as your hands drag him back against your chin and nose. You've been waiting for this moment for quite some time and, now, he knows it.

Your passion for Garrus is not just chance. Not just a simple sexy scar on the right of his face. No, you wanted him. You wanted to devour him, and he is more than happy to oblige.

Arms rush to wrap around his neck, forcing your towel to crash at your tip-toed feet. Eyes closed and breathing hitched. Your tongue massages against his, causing little moans to float between you both.

Garrus' hands explore your freshly exposed body. They are firm as they discover the curves of your bodice and waist. He staggers, guiding you back against the wall. You gasp at the cold sensation, but he didn't care. His hand digs under your right thigh, pulling your bent leg up to his waist.

His tongue slides across your lips. You push against him, practically biting into his kiss. Lips red and bruised and you still crush them upon him. This is all you have wanted, whether knowing it or not, since you met him. Hell if you're going to hold back.

And yet, Garrus picks you up. His hands secure your legs around his waist as he walks down the steps to your bedroom. His eyes still closed, but he navigates through the space flawlessly. His hands grip tightly onto your ass, pinching with excitement.

He places you down upon your mattress with a mixture of dominance and pleasure. You pull your wet hair out of its bun before resting on your back. He sinks to his knees between your legs with hands trailing up your thighs.

Garrus rakes over you. Those same very eyes bouncing left to right, up and down. There's so much to look at, so much to enjoy - so much to love. He decides to start at your thighs with determination. His kisses cause your heart to pound. Sweet, little pecks that prickle your skin. You struggle to keep your thighs from closing upon him.

As he presses his soft mouth against you, he breathes you in. "You are so beautiful, Shepard," he purrs with a vibration to his chest. "Your waist..." His hands find their way back to your hip bones. He rubs against them as he grinds into the side of the mattress. "Your hair," he mewls as he plays with a long strand resting just above your left breast.

"God, Garrus," you whimper at his touch. Your hips rut against his chest. Your clit craving sensation, craving him.

A sharp smirk forms across his face. "Say it again, I like it."

With a laugh, you prop yourself onto your elbows. You try to look at him but are stuck in a haze as he circles the space where your hips and thighs meet. A deep breath and you plead, "Garrus, I need you."

He growls as the other side of his smile perks up. His kisses become bites that travel down your inner thighs. You try to curl in to yourself, but he holds you down, showing you exactly who is in charge in this part of the Normandy.

His tongue lathers up your thigh, finding itself at the tip of your slit. Your breath hitches every so often, floating on the edge of overstimulation. His hands dig into the meat of your thighs, leaving little crescent shaped indents into your reddening skin.

Your hands crash into your hair as Garrus' tongue parts your lips. His thickness lathers up your juices as he guides you down to your ass. "Oh god," you cry out. He groans, growls into you. Any sound you make fuels the raging thrusts forming a hole into the side of your bed.

His finger curls around to lightly flick your bean. His tongue doused with your love and, fuck, did he love every single drop of you. The way your musical moans floated in the air forces something dark to emerge within him. Something primitive and degenerate.

The things he would love to do to you...

Garrus flicks his tongue in a way that makes your head spin. Your chin is up to the sky and your eyes are squeezed shut. Your fingers are tangled in your hair and your hips are pressed firmly against his wet chin.

Only briefly do both your eyes meet during the act. Those sparkling eyes highlighted by thick navied tattoos across his nose and cheekbones. All you want to do is ride that face. Ride that serene, tender face until you explode.

His thick tongue laps against you. A hand rushes to your breast with fingers tightly clasping your hardened nipple. The pinching sensation creates a light-headedness that holds your eyes closed. Your moans can surely be heard throughout the cabin but you couldn't care in the slightest.

"Jesus, fuck," you choke out. "Oh, shit - right there, right there."

Garrus hums, sending another pleasant vibration across the sheets. He utters, proud of himself, "Seems like those vids really helped-"

"Vakarian! Stop talking!"

You push his head down onto you, sliding his tongue further inside. Your entire body feels like pins and needles. Sounds you don't recognize fall from your lips. The pleasure intense. Time slows as you feel your body tighten around him. Your lashes flutter, only showing the smallest glimpses of the lit room.

Garrus delves his firm tongue in. He tries his best not to rip into your skin, not knowing what might hurt and what might feel good. If he trusted his instincts, he would be balls deep within you - thrusting until there was nothing else left for him to give. He always thought he wanted an honorable death by combat. Fuck that, he wants to die in a concussive blast of two bondmates cumming as one.

Fire begins to pool at your abdomen. Your heart races in ways that leave you seeing stars. Your body becomes jagged, happily enduring his powerful thrusts as the rubber band gradually begins to pop.

"Garrus, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," your mewling voice grows higher and higher in pitch.

Upon feeling your walls cave around his tongue in pulsating bursts, Garrus chuckles softly. His pink, fleshly tongue still thick and firm within you. His hands gentle as one softly circles your nipple and the other circles your protruding hip bones.

"Mmm'Shepard," he mewls as he licks his lips.

You struggle to control your heaving breath as jolts of pleasure disperse across your body. Garrus rips his shirt off of him, pulling the cloth over him with one hand. He begins to crawl over you with something firm and pointed traveling across your skin. His own breathing hitched as he crashes a hand beside your head.

You open your eyes to his sweet, endearing smile. His hand warmly pressed against the side of your face. A finger brushes across your cheek bones. His touch gentle as you pant your way back to baseline. His cock hot and hard as it rests against your thigh.

"Ready for more, Commander?"

"Yes, Archangel," you whisper tenderly.

With those two words, Garrus' breath hitches and a voice whimpers out. He leans into you, hovering his lips just above you. You crave him. You feel the static thick in the air between you.

Finally, he caves and drops his loving lips against you. His tongue, your new favorite thing, runs over your lips lightly tracing where they part. He slicks them over, just before you suck in his bottom lip. Your teeth slightly dig into his flesh as you pull him back towards him.

Garrus growls as a slow smirk sprawls across his face. He looks down, only to guide himself at your entrance. The tip barely brushes against your flower and your entire body fills with electricity. He sinks himself into you with one fallen swoop. His girth perfectly filling all the bumps, crooks, and crannies. It forces your jaw to drop as he places caressing pecks upon your cheek.

He pulls back, simply to see himself appear and disappear within you. His breath halts as he furrows his brows. You are tight, tighter than he has ever had. Part of him is holding on by a damn thread, trying not to bust upon first contact. The other part of him is hell bent on feeling your walls convulse around his pecker, squeezing the cum out of him and filling you up.

You hold back winces at the feel of his cock. He is much bigger than you're used to, much bigger than you expected. You widen your legs for him, begging for him to bury himself within you. Your lashes flutter once again as you melt into his touch.

His thrusts are slow at first. His hand traveling from your hair, cheek, neck, breast, and hip in soft, sullen motions. His heart races as he watches your eyes lighten up with each bottoming thrust. He can feel the coil within him tightening and tightening.

Garrus never knew what love was until he saw your face. He never knew what primal attraction was until now.

Gradually, his thrusts become more powerful. His hips digging in deeper and harder. His kisses expand from your neck to your tits. Love bites firm against your clavicle. He loves to hear you gasp, to feel you clench around him. Your hand tightening its grip around his waist.

He sets his pace - firm, solid, and hard. The sight of your breasts bouncing due to his thrusts forces trails of fire to form across his body. He clenches his thighs, working hard to maintain his speed and rhythm.

Words begin to babble from your lips as the endorphins fill your circuiting brain. Your whole body falls limp as it jolts with each of this pounding ruts. Knees begin to buckle and you can feel yourself tightening up. Your legs wrap around him, pulling him closer and closer for all of eternity.

Huffing, Garrus' movements become more jagged. His breath heavy as he presses his forehead into yours. His lips hang just above yours, brushing against them with each push. He breathes you in, wanting nothing more but to inhale everything that you are.

He bites back a moan as his hips fall out of synchronicity. He tries hard, desperately hard to maintain his rhythm but you can feel him twitching. You can feel his throbbing cock wanting nothing more than a release.

You push back against him, digging your hips against his. With a swift motion, he falls onto his back sending a rippling effect across the mattress. His eyes widen as you sink onto his cock.

Struggling to keep his eyes open, Garrus watches as you effortlessly take him in. His breath hitches as your lips part, gasping ever so lightly with each rut of your hips. Your nails dig into his chest, forming a painful yet orgasmic feeling.

His hands fall at your waist, digging in and holding you in place. Never letting go. His own hips grinding against your warmth.

“Shepard, fuck, if you keep doing that, I’m not gonna be able to-”

“Able to what, Vakarian,” you say breathlessly. Your hips dig a bit deeper, grind a bit harder. His brows furrow and his mouth opens. His body shakes, trembling by your movements.

“Oh fuck,” Garrus mewls.

“It feels soo good,” you whimper.

“Oh god, Commander. Oh god.”

“Cum for me, Garrus. Cum inside me! I need it!”

“Fuuuucccckkkkk…”

With a growl, Garrus floods your system with his seed. The very sight of his body trembling beneath you. His thrusts like firm, bursting staccatos. The flick of his head bounces against your g-spot. Your own body shivers with pleasure.

You both ride out your highs, still grinding into each other. Garrus sits up, pulling your chest tight against his own. His breath hot and harsh into the nape of your neck. Your hand hooks at the base of his head, holding him lightly in place.

Hips still jagged as they move. His arms wrap around your waist, forming a tight hold that bounces love between you both. Breath whimpering upon each other’s lips. He presses his nose against your cheek, nuzzling this way to your own. His skin sweaty and warm against your forehead.

“I love you, Garrus Vakarian,” you whisper softly upon his lips.

“I’ll never tire of hearing that.”

“I’ll never be tired of saying it.”

“You are beautiful, absolutely the most beautiful of all the galaxy,” he coos before lightly rubbing his nose against yours.

A soft kiss forces both your eyes to close. Your legs wrap around his back as you rest your weight on his lap. “How about that wine?” you tease before landing another peck on his cheek.

Garrus’ brows jump as that smooth talking smirk shines from left to right. “It’s red… like the blood of our enemies.” He playfully bites into your neck, forcing a squeal you didn’t foresee. “Well, some of our enemies.”

“Okay, calm down, mister vigilante,” you chuckle to yourself.

“Never,” he says before nipping at your neck again. A bustle filled with giggles to end an night you’ll never forget.

note: if you love mass effect & garrus, come back and visit me on N7 day 🩵💙🩵 i has surprise for yous; beginning dialogue & scene are as close to the mass effect 2 romance cutscene before jumping off the ledge into creative shhmut

coming up next sunday → week two: sex toys with ssa aaron hotchner

kinktober taglist? 🎃

✷ kinktober2023 masterlist ✷ navigation ✷ impromptu prompts ✷

thank you for my beta reading bestie, @nackrosor

[ageless-aislynn]

Angst! 16

Fluff! 13

Misc.! 16

And… for characters I’m going to throw out Kai, Alenko, and Soap. Do whatever pairings or friendships you’d like. Also I’m not gonna die if you choose not to use those characters. Or prompts. I dunno, I just wanna read your stuff man.

*glee* Thank you SO much for sending some prompts my way! These are all pretty short but mark my first time writing 2 of the 3 characters, so I'm just carefully dipping a toe in the COD and ME pools, lol!

Thanks so much again! 😎👍

Angst 16. “Are you hurt?” “No.” “Then why are there bruises all over your face?”

Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish & Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley, Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Then why are there bruises all over your face?"

"You ought to see the other guy, Lt," Soap said with an unrepentant grin, unmarred by the fact his left eye was nearly swollen shut and he had a prominent cut on his lower lip.

Ghost sighed slightly behind his skull balaclava. "Sure I'll recognize him by all the bruises on his knuckles," he said dryly.

Fluff 13. Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?”

Kaidan Alenko/Commander Shepard, Mass Effect (reader's choice as to whether it's male or female Shep 😉)

"Are you flirting with me?"

"You finally noticed?"

Kaidan squinted, several Commander Shepards swimming in front of him in the dim bar lighting, all wearing fondly amused expressions.

"You are flirting with me!" he stated as if having uncovered a core secret of the universe.

Shepard's smile broadened. "Think it's time to take you home and tuck you into bed."

"I'm going home with Cmdr. Shepard," he proclaimed loudly to the crowd around them. Several people raised a glass in good-natured salutes.

"Yeah, they know." Shepard got an arm around him, sliding him off the bar stool and onto his feet. "Most of them were at our wedding, after all."

Misc 16. “YOU SAID TO BE HONEST STOP HITTING ME!”

Kai-125 & Vannak-134, Halo the series

"YOU SAID TO BE HONEST, STOP HITTING ME!"

John heard Kai's shout from the hallway outside of the Spartan quarters and shoved the door open to see—

He blinked. For a solid moment, he wasn't quite sure what he was seeing, actually. Kai vaulted over her own bed, being pursued hotly by Vannak.

"That wasn't honest," he said grimly. "You're just being mean."

"Look, it's not my fault that that penguin documentary was kinda lame and—"

"IT WAS NOT!" Vannak bellowed back and took a swing at her that would've definitely put a marine in the infirmary for a month, if not in the ground, permanently. For Kai, it would've at the very least mussed her hair. "Those penguins are adorable and—"

"Lame. Laaaaaame," she singsonged, ducking a flurry of punches, then doing a very impressive parkour run up the wall into a backflip that sent her soaring over the enraged Spartan's head.

"THEY'RE NOT LAME, YOU TAKE THAT BACK!"

John looked over at Riz, who was calmly sitting at a nearby table, reading something on her padd. She met his gaze, shrugged, and then went back to reading.

They crisscrossed the room rapidly, with Vannak coming close to getting his hands on her but, ultimately, Kai would manage to slip away at the last second. The entire time, she continued to issue penguin insults that, for some reason, the other Spartan took extremely personally.

John opened his mouth, about to say… something. Then he gave a slight shake of his head.

"I have paperwork to do," he announced to no one. "Don't I, Cortana?"

"I can find you some, Chief."

"That would be great," he said and just turned around and walked away.

Sentence Starters

[writtenjewels]

Informal

Shepard was excited when he stepped on board the Normandy. Captain Anderson prepped him on what he would find: a sleek frigate with an unusual set-up for the CIC. Apparently that part of the ship was inspired by the turians. It would definitely take some getting used to, but what better way to flatter your former enemy than to model your command center after their design?

He wished he had more time to read up on the crew before launch. Some of the names looked familiar—no doubt his parents talked about them, or possibly even worked with them—but Shepard wasn't familiar with anybody. He trusted Anderson's judgment, though.

Shepard stepped onto the bridge, where he found the pilot and copilot, along with their Spectre guest. Though he hadn't gotten a chance to talk with any of them yet, Shepard already knew that the pilot preferred being called “Joker” and that the guy in the copilot seat was a biotic. Even if he hadn't read it in the lieutenant's file, everyone onboard was talking about Alenko's biotics. Just one of the many factors that made this shakedown run a little unusual.

After Nihlus left the bridge, Joker declared, “I hate that guy.”

“Nihlus gave you a compliment,” Alenko remarked, “so you hate him?”

“Spectres are bad news,” Joker insisted. “Call me paranoid.”

“You're paranoid,” Alenko obliged without missing a beat. Shepard had to fight back the laugh that wanted to burst out from that. The conversation continued, with Joker warning Anderson that Nihlus was on his way.

“He's already here, Joker,” the captain replied.

“Is it me, or is the captain always angry?” Joker observed.

“Only when he's talking to you, Joker,” Alenko responded. Again, Shepard had to bite back his laugh. He tried to catch Alenko's eye, and the lieutenant looked up to meet his gaze. Alenko's lip pulled up in the barest of smiles and there was a glint in his hazel eyes. Shepard smiled back at him, then they both broke eye contact to focus back on their tasks.

Shepard still hadn't lost the smile when he stepped into the meeting between Nihlus and Anderson. He found himself grateful for Alenko's playful banter putting him in a good mood. He needed it to balance the seriousness of what this “shakedown” run was really about.

No one was in the mood for playful banter after Eden Prime. Losing Jenkins weighed on Shepard, and every time he closed his eyes, his mind would play back the images from the beacon. They had some down-time before reaching the Citadel and Shepard was feeling restless. He left the crew quarters with no real destination in mind.

He found Alenko at a work station. The biotic wiped an arm across his brow and stepped away from the console. His expression was tight and strained, but the moment he spotted Shepard it cleared. He snapped a salute.

“At ease.” Shepard waved him off. Alenko relaxed slightly.

“How are you feeling, Commander?”

“I don't know how I can answer that, Lieutenant.”

“For me, I think 'shitty' would about sum it up,” Alenko commented. Shepard felt his lip twitch and a brief lightness filled him. “Corporal Jenkins was just a kid, eager to get his feet wet on a real mission. And Nihlus...” He let out a breath. “He was a Council Spectre. I can't imagine how his death is going to reflect on the Alliance. Then there's the beacon—a priceless Prothean artifact, and it was destroyed on our watch. So... yeah, things are shitty.”

“Hard to find a bright side,” Shepard sighed.

“We're going to the Citadel,” Alenko reminded him. “The hub of the galaxy, where all the species come together. I've only ever heard about its size and scope before. It'll be incredible to see it in person. And we'll get to see all the other aliens that make up our galaxy. There will be asari, salarians, elcor, and volus. It's an opportunity to learn more about them.”

“Wow.” Shepard let out a soft laugh. “I like your optimism, Lieutenant.” It was more than that. Alenko had clearly been thinking a lot about their situation, both the good and bad. The fact that he could be optimistic made Shepard more hopeful, too.

“I'm just hoping some good comes out of all this, that's all,” Alenko said. “Sorry if I'm being too informal,” he quickly added. “Something about this reminds me of Brain Camp, and we were never big on protocol there.”

“Brain Camp?” Shepard echoed.

“That's what we called it. Officially, it was known as Biotic Acclimation and Temperance Training. I'll tell you about it later.”

“I look forward to it. And don't worry too much about informality. From what I saw on the bridge, it's a strength of yours.”

“Oh.” Alenko looked surprised. His expression softened and he chuckled. “You'd be the first of my commanding officers to even notice, let alone consider it a strength.”

“I'm honored.” Shepard smiled at him. “I hope I can see more of it in the future.” That got Alenko to smile back at him.

Their situation was still shitty, but Shepard was feeling better about it after talking to the lieutenant.

[dispatchwithlove]

7 Snippets, 7 Mutuals

Thanks for the tag @misseffect @otemporanerys @dwarrowdams @diaphanouso

I'll tag @dulcidyne @westernlarch @sinelaborenihilsr2 @angry-jager @jtowwwn @serendipitys-teapot and @kalliesa

This is what I've been working on 😊 We've got some shakarian, some Halsin/Tav, and some Astarion/Tav

1) Singularity (shakarian)

Before Archangel opened his eyes his touch was tender.

Seconds after the words “you’re alive” left his mouth like a curse, he’s cupping her jaw as if he’s somehow found a tenuous hold on a ghost. He’s not hurting her, but it’s unsettling. If she could only take his hand again, beg the tenderness back by brushing her lips over his skin, kissing his knuckle.

His other hand is still anchored on her waist, holding her tight. His hips are tucked between her thighs. And he’s still inside her, though noticeably the pressure that had stretched her so deliciously is rapidly softening.  

The kindness in his ice-blue eyes is gone, too. They’re sharp and intimidating, scanning every inch of her face. Is he looking for proof? A sign? 

“You know me?” she asks, though she already has his answer, it’s written on him in quivering mandibles and stricken eyes.  

“Shepard,” he repeats her name, withdrawing his tight hand from her jaw, slips his hand from her waist. “What is this?” Guilt stains his expression as he tilts his hips back, pulls out of her like he’s violated her. Looking at the floor, he tugs his pants up around his hips and fastens them closed with agile flicks of his fingers; even horrified and spiraling, he’s steady.

So this is her kick.

2) Singularity (shakarian)

Jane looks down, and realizes her pants are still dangling from one knee, one boot discarded and cast to the floor. She pulls her pants leg up, jerks the waist back over her hips. ”Have we never…” she begins to ask, but the look in his eyes makes her embarrassed to say it. 

“Have we had sex before?” she finally manages. 

“No.” Archangel can��t get the words out quick enough, and it fills her with shame. “No,” he repeats. 

One no would’ve been sufficient. 

3) In Your Arms (shakarian)

Casually leaning against the bar in a black suit that cut against him in all the right places, Garrus looked like an absolute rake with a confident grin, a half-empty glass in hand, and eyes that drank her in. A little sigh snuck from the top of her tight throat.  

“Definitely worth the surprise,” he said. “Even better than I imagined.” 

Jane shrugged, even though it felt like her heart was melting straight down, gathering behind her sternum into a little pool and making it hard to breathe. 

4) In Your Arms (shakarian)

“I’d like to dance like turians this time, if that’s all right.”

“You’re in charge tonight,” Jane said with a little salute and a wink.

An amused rumble started in his chest. “I enjoy you saying that too much.”

“Then let’s get out of here.”

“Nice try, Jane, but you’re dancing with me.”

“Fine. Teach me how to dance like turians.” She smirked, holding her hands up ready for posing. “Use my body.”

5) Honey on Your Tongue (Halsin/Tav)

You tip your finger in, capture a dollop and because the honey begins to drip you quickly slip your finger into your mouth. Divine. Nectar of the gods. It warms your tongue, sweetens your palate. With your finger still between your lips you moan, nearly as loud as Halsin, though higher pitched, softer, more like a sigh.  

Embarrassed, your eyes dart to his, but the kindness in them settles your nerves. 

“Ah, a kindred spirit, you enjoy honey as much as I do.”

Those kind eyes blaze with heat when you pull your finger from your mouth, trying to catch the last bit of stick with your bottom lip.

6) You Wear the Sun Well, Darling (Astarion/Tav)

You open your mouth on his shoulder to let your teeth glide over his skin, his tight muscle. What goes through his mind when his teeth prick into your skin and your blood flavors his tongue? What goes through his heart? In your body is a bone-deep want, to know every bit of him, his body, his heart, his thoughts. At the curve of his neck you pause, 

He takes your chin with a curved knuckle and brings your face to his. Amusement sweetens his voice. “Are you going to bite me, my pet,” he traces his fingertip along the flat line of your incisors, presses against your minuscule canine, “with these little teeth.”

Excitement bubbles in your chest, you grin and nod.

After a short, dark hum, he clicks his tongue and his words drift out like glinting particles in a wash of light, “Naughty pet.”

7) You Wear the Sun Well, Darling (Astarion/Tav)

“Would you touch yourself for me?” he asks. 

Without a thought you move a hand to your thigh. It’s wild how instantly you want to do what he asks, always. Every word could be a command and you’d provide without hesitation, anything he wants, everything he wants. Your palm is hot against your skin, your fingers ready to feel, but you keep it planted in place to ask, “Would that make you happy?”

“It would make me something,” he says darkly, hungrily. “Call it whatever you’d like.”

You kiss him again, your lips kneading into his, plucking them like a bow string.  

“I will, for you,” you say. “But tell me what you want me to do, every step, tell me.” 

His eyes close, he presses his nose to your cheek, nuzzles into you with a vulnerable, kinetic affection that nearly makes your heart burst with both satisfaction and longing. 

“Slide your finger against your cunt, but don’t press it inside,” he says against your jaw.

“Only one?” you ask, hoping he tells you two is fine.

“Only one. I want to be the only thing that fills you completely.”

[kalixora]

It is what it is

Price x (f)reader

Part 2

ALEXIA! Play Daddy Issues by The Neighborhood

@tapioca-marzipanpan

@do-leannan

@yooforia

Summary: You weren't seen as a high-ranking solider, and you were stuck in a position you didn't want, directly by General Shepard's side. You get a call one day about a new opportunity that will help you.

. Reader is presumed female

Note: I've never played any of the games, so please excuse any inaccuracies. Due to the use of Google Translate, any languages displayed may potentially be incorrect.

There will be explicit sexual content, as well as instances of harassment, cursing, and drug usage.

Callsign: Hound

You had to confess that getting back together with Price and Gaz excited you. Heck, even meeting Soap and Ghost made you happy even though you didn't really know them yet. You settled into your new room more quickly than you had anticipated. Thank goodness, there is still time before lights out.

You sat on your bed, unable to suppress your excitement. This was how peace felt, and you hadn't felt it in a long time. There were no prying eyes on you now. Now that you were able to breathe, you huffed and sat back down on your bed. You stretched your hands to the ceiling. This is something you can get used to every night.

A soft knock came on your door. You raised your head and shouted a quick come in. The door opened to reveal Price, who appeared to be holding something behind his back as he opened the door more to make himself more visible to you.

"Got a minute to spare Hound?"

You sat up and patted the spot on your bed next to you with a smile. Price entered your room and closed the door behind him with his foot so you couldn't see what he was carrying behind his back. He approached your bed and sat alongside you. He was close enough that if he stretched his legs, they would touch yours.

Price cleared his throat before revealing what he was hiding behind his back: a plushie, a dog plushie. You gazed at him for a bit before taking it from him with a chuckle. "What is this for?"

"Well, I figured you can grab this and keep it close if you ever experience nightmares," Price said with a faint smile as he turned away from you a bit.

He genuinely thought about you...

"Thank you John, I love it already, but what if you have nightmares?"

Price chuckled, "I doubt I'll be needing it."

You smiled at Price, and there they were once more—those butterflies. You can briefly detect a change in Price's eyes when he turned to face you, but it just lasted a split second if you were lucky enough to notice it. You placed the plush on your lap.

"What made you pick me?" You inquired. "With all due respect Captain-"

"Had to find people I trusted, and you are someone I trust with my life," Price hummed.

He trusted you, and you trusted him. So, what made you respond the way you did when he touched you? A reflex, perhaps? It was only a polite, welcome gesture… so why? Why do you feel both unsafe and secure at the same time? You were safe, safe with everyone, safe with John...

"I trust you as well, John," you said, exhaling. "With everything…"

Price chuckled a little before asking, "With anything, soldier?" in a softer tone.

"Yes sir."

Price gave you a nod and a little smile as he rose up and shifted your bed. He opened your door before closing it gave you a last look then a salute, "Have a goodnight Y/N, sleep tight yea."

You adjusted yourself onto your bed, letting out a sigh as you closed your eyes soon heading off to sleep.

. . .

Price stared through your file, a grim expression on his face, rereading it over and over, oblivious to Ghost's presence.

"Something the matter Captain?"

Price's eyes never leaving the paper as he answered with gruff hum. Ghost tilted his head slightly confused by the captains response.

"This doesn't seem right..." Price muttered. "You'd think the signs would be there eh..."

"Price."

"Yeah Ghost I hear ya."

Ghost pointed at the file in Price's hands, "That Hound's?"

"Yeah… ever get a gut feeling something's wrong but can't put a bloody finger on it?" Price inquired, lowering the file and closing it.

"Every day, sir," Ghost responded. "Something wrong with the file?"

"Take a go at it, either I'm losing it or there's something else going on," Price said as he slid the file forward.

Ghost took the file and scanned it, his eyes immediately falling on the name Shepard. It was your last name.

Ghost looked at Price then back at the file.

"How long have they-"

Price cut Ghost off, "Look at the other paper."

Ghost slid the first paper, then the second; it was an older picture of you, one in which you appeared younger, as seen by the form of your face. He looked up your surname, it was L/N.

"I don't get it…" Ghost inquired as he examined both documents.

"Me either, mate," Price sneered as Ghost handed him your file back. "You'd think I'd notice something so obvious as that the first time."

Ghost hummed, "Maybe it was an off duty decision."

"No, no, Hound has a family, parents and siblings, this would've come up," Price grumbled, carefully examining the two documents.

"Disappointed you weren't invited to the wedding, Captain?" Ghost commented.

"Far from it," Price sneered. "This doesn't sit right with me, not in the slightest."

"Are you gonna to ask her about it?”

Price shook his head, “No.” 

The way you tensed when he touched you said more than words could. Something happened to you. You were a tough nut to crack, based on the situations you, Gaz, and him had been through.

Kate told him to find out what’s going on through you while she started digging into Shepard. He trusted you, as well as you trusted him, that he knew for sure. Should he wait for you to tell him? Or should he just be straightforward with you?

“Fuckin Hell,” he mumbled under his breath. “God, Y/N what’s going on with you…” 

… 

“Morning Hound, how’d you sleep?” Gaz called out to you from the mess hall. You approached him and gave him a little wave. He was the only one at the table.

There were a couple other people in the mess hall who smiled at you before going about their business.

"Good morning, Gaz," you replied. "Where is everyone?"

"In the training room, Soap wanted to confront one of the novices while Ghost monitors," Gaz shrugged.

You raised your brow, “Right…”

Gaz simply smiled at you. It was a gentle one, able to melt a frozen heart. Although it appeared as though he was gazing through you, you can tell that he was still taking in the reality that you were in fact here, in front of him.

“You okay?”

"Yes, it's bloody brilliant to see you alive and well, it's been so long I nearly forgot what you looked like," Gaz chuckles. "You haven't changed a lot."

You sat across from Gaz, smugly smiling. “Really? Kindly elucidate."

"You still look absolutely stunning," Gaz remarked.

"Pft, you're just saying that," you scoff.

"No, it's true, you still look beautiful, maybe not as good as me, but-"

"Oh really," you said, covering your mouth and laughing.

“Y/N…” 

“Yeah?” 

"We really missed you, and I'm happy you're here," Gaz replied softly.

"I'm glad too," you said while grinning at him.

Gaz missed you. And so did Price. They never forgot about you, you were still dear to their hearts. It hasn’t been a solid 24 hours and they’ve already made you feel warm and fuzzy. They made you welcomed, made you feel safe. Although trust comes a long way, and it isn’t given it’s earned, Soap and Ghost have to earn that trust as you need to earn their trust as well. 

“What were you doin all this time? Like I mentioned yesterday all I heard was that you were doing solo missions.” 

“… the higher up’s like the work I do I guess…” 

Shepard liked the work you did too. A little to much...

“Pretty face does equal elegant work,” Gaz mused. 

"Oh hush you," you giggled. "But yes, I've been doing a lot of solo assignments, took it a day at a time."

"Have you spoken to your family since then?"

A tsunami-like sensation of dread rushed over you. It felt like a spear right through your heart. Shepard killed your parent …  They were taken from you. Not metaphorically or rhetorically or poetically or theoretically or any other fancy way, they were gone. Straight up.

"Hound?"

"No Gaz, I haven't spoken to them… gosh, I don't even remember the last time I spoke to them," you shook your head, sighing.

"Hey, it's alright, it's been awhile for me too," Gaz said softly. "I'm sure Price or Laswell can arrange something for you."

"I don't know-"

Gaz opened his mouth to say something but quickly closed it; you looked at him then turned your head to see Ghost approaching the two of you, Soap jogging straight behind him. While catching up to him, Soap had a stupid smile on his face.

"Mornin' Hound, Mornin' Gaz," Soap said as he sat down next to you. You raised your brow at him, greeting him and then Ghost.

"How was the match?" Gaz asked.

Ghost shook his head while Soap grinned. "I wiped the floor with those little fuckers."

"You don't say," Gaz hummed.

"So... anyone up for a match?" Soap asked looking between you and Gaz. Gaz shook his head, "Hard pass."

Soap turned to you, "How about it Hound? Want a go at it?"

"Eh, I don't know..." you hummed.

"Oh come on, it'd be great practice, plus captain says you're a big deal, I wanna see for myself," Soap says, elbowing you slightly.

"I'd tear you apart Soap."

"Oh! Well then come on," Soap says standing up jogging lightly on his feet. "Let's see what you got Hound."

As you stood up from the table, you exhaled a trembling breath. As soon as Gaz got to his feet, he hurried up to you and put his hand on your shoulder while turning to face you. You felt your body stiffen up again, and your gaze rested on his hand, and you hastily shrugged off before giving Gaz a faint smile and trailing after Soap, while Gaz followed behind.

As you reached the training area, you noticed a few other people engaging in their own individual training and competitive matches. You noticed the large ring in the center of the room, where Soap cheerfully walked inside and signaled for you to join him.

You entered the ring looking at Soap, "You sure you wanna do this?"

"Bring it, show me why they call you Hound."

"They call me Hound because I'm good at finding people… but alright," you scoffed.

Soap and you both took a position. You both circled each other until Soap made the fourth move, approaching you and throwing a punch, which you blocked and returned.

The others in the room stopped what they were doing to watch you and Soap, and out of the corner of your eye, you observed them. You also got sight of a man wearing a bucket hat enter the room. Price had came.

Soap had landed a hit on the side of your stomach, so you grunted and elbowed him back, raising your leg up to knee him in the stomach and sending an elbow to his back. You kicked the back of the calf, causing him to stumble slightly but soon recover and throw another fist your way.

"Good shit Hound."

As soon as you heard what Price was saying, a cozy sensation returned to your tummy. For a brief instant, you almost lost focus on what you were doing. But what would his voice sound like in a low whisper…in your ear?

"Shepard knows how to pick em." You overheard someone say. Every single one of the butterflies in your stomach started to burn. You had Soap trapped down with his arm in your hand before you realized it. You lightly stepped on his back. Shepard. Fucking Shepard. Because of him, you're still here. You can't avoid his name no matter where you go. Worse than his presence was his name.

"Ah- okay- okay Uncle!"

You walked out of the ring, past Gaz and Price, after dropping Soap's arm in a huff. Gaz gave Soap a puzzled look, and Price followed you.

"Hound."

As you were ready to enter your room, you paused in your tacks and sighed, turning on your heel.

"My office, now."

You followed Price back into his office, closing the door behind you. His office had a bar-like odor. "Yes sir?"

"You wanna tell me what's goin' on in that head of yours?" Price asked you as he reclined against his desk, arms crossed and head cocked.

"I'm sorry?"

Price hummed, "I've known you long enough to know that look in your way Hound."

"What look sir?"

"Lost."

"I'm fine Captain, just got heated in the moment," you said with a smile.

Price locked his gaze on you, scanning you up and down. It sent shivers up and down your spine. You needed to leave immediately, you needed to think.

"May I go now?"

"What's the rush?" Price asked his voice sounding stern.

You shook your head, "My family...I- I haven't checked in on them."

"Homesick?"

You nodded, "Very."

As you approached, Price sighed and gave you a faint smile. "Understandable; if you'd like, I can work something out for you, yeah?"

"Thank you sir," you said.

"You can leave now," Price remarked, motioning to the door. He observed you exit the space as swiftly as you entered.

"What's goin' on with you kid..."

[swaps55]

It's official. I can't scroll past stars without thinking of Sam.

Looking forward to my next Sam-Saturday ⭐️

<3 <3 <3 <3

My terrible news is that I am not going to have the next chapter ready as intended this weekend - I might be able to pull off getting it out on Sunday, but I don't want to promise, because hey! I have to work on Sunday. Everything exploded this week, and I can't get caught back up. BUT, as an apology, here is a snippet from a future chapter:

~

The conference room door opens, and Admiral Hackett fills the space. He walks in brusque, all business, acknowledging Hannah's salute with a curt nod and gesturing for her to keep her seat.

“Captain. Thank you for coming.”

“What is the meaning of the Freedom’s Progress security footage?”

He settles into his chair. A yeoman appears from a side door and offers them both water. Hannah waves him off, not taking her eyes off of Hackett.

“We don’t know yet,” he replies, looking her right in the eye.

“That’s my son, Steven. What do we know?”

He draws in a reluctant breath. “Several months ago we became aware that in the aftermath of Alchera, Cerberus managed to recover Sam Shepard’s body.”

Cold sweeps through her. “They found a body.”

She’s always imagined what those words would sound like.  

“Yes.”

“What does this have to do with the man on Freedom’s Progress?”

“We’re not sure yet.”

“Then I reiterate. What do we know?”

Most people cow when she gives the look she’s giving Hackett now, but he doesn’t blink. He’s too good for that.

“We know that Cerberus now has an agent who appears to be Commander Sam Shepard. It could be cloning. It could be some elaborate plastic surgery to make someone else look like your son. Or…it could be him.”

A two-decade old memory hits out of the blue. Sam, grinning up at her from the floor of the Payne-Gaposchkin’s maintenance bay while Daniel saw to a pair of skinned knees. She can’t remember how he hurt himself, just that he’d snuck his way into the bay looking for her.

(Found you!)    

She hasn’t thought about the Payne-Gaposchkin in years. 

[stormikins]

7 snippets, 7 mutuals

I was tagged by @omniblades-and-stars you can find her post here

—

sour apple baby me1: Feros, Ash POV - I enjoy this dialogue exchange very much

“You two go to the utility building,” Alenko orders her and Liara. “If we can get power turned back on, maybe we can come up with some defenses.” “Will the geth not simply hack those?” Liara asks. Garrus snorts. “Have you seen this colony? Whatever they got won’t be sophisticated enough to hack.” “Whether their defenses are good or not, doesn’t matter,” Alenko cuts in. “Power is what the people need.” “Amen to that.” Williams hefts her rifle and nods, trying not to laugh, “why we got democracy.” Alenko sighs at her, but she can see the crinkle of his eyes in a smile. “Go.” Liara starts for the door, and she walks backwards. “You know, LT, splitting up in a horror vid never goes well.” “It’s a good thing we’re not in a horror vid then.” “Coulda fooled me.” “Go,” he says while chuckling. She gives a two-finger salute and then swivels on her heel.

the rest is under the cut!

—

sour apple baby interim between 1&2: Kaidan POV - this is rough just fyi

Noveria. Practically Illium but nestled in what’s now Alliance space. It makes sense that they would find Cerberus here. Noveria doesn’t look any different to Kaidan; mountain peaks in the distance, snow everywhere, winds that threaten to knock him on his ass. Their approach is like Peak-15’s: dodge turret fire and go through the front door. They crouch behind the fighter jet that’s on the landing pad, the turret firing on them. Coats cloaks though, moving right to survey while Riley starts her hack of the turrets. “Seems like they’re willing to let the turrets do the work,” Coats comments through the comm. “Or they don’t want to be in this cold. Fucking hell,” Fredricks grumbles next to him. He even adds in a shiver for emphasis. “Why’d we have to come in the middle of a blizzard?” “Riley?” Kaidan asks instead. It’s like the wind swirls up ghosts of snow. Garrus asked the same thing. “These things are old Alliance. Just another minute.” The turrets stop a minute later. “We wanna draw ‘em out or go in headfirst?” Kaidan asks. Fredricks hefts his rifle and Kaidan knows he’s smiling behind his helmet. “I say we kick down the front door.” “And walk into an ambush?” Riley retorts. “Let’s draw them out.” “The more we kill out here, the less we have to fight inside," Kaidan agrees. “But inside is warm,” Fredricks responds to him. “Do you always complain this much?” Riley asks. “Only when my balls are about to freeze off.”

—

sour apple baby me2: Minuteman Station, Shep POV - tfw you wake up and your body literally looks like its been through hell

The scars continue across her body in the same way like on her arms and legs. Across her left collarbone, top of her left thigh, her right ribs and the back of her right shoulder. But there’s one stretching almost from left armpit to hip. It’s wider than the others, definitely longer. She’s got a Grand Canyon from hell carved into her body. The glow of it seems to pulsate with her heartbeat. 

—

sour apple baby me3: down time Nihlus POV - some nice intimacy between

Kal places his hand under Nihlus’ chin, his throat, keeping him there as he moves the brush. Kal starts around his eyes, sweeping around them and then up in bold strokes. He’s never done this before— either of them. Kal marking a turian, and Nihlus letting anyone but family or an artist do it. He tightens his hands on Kal’s thighs. It doesn’t seem like Kal hasn’t, not with how sure Kal’s movements are. He’s humming as well, and Nihlus has to tap down his own responsive noise to that. He doesn’t want to distract the man after all. A lone finger under his chin as he drags the brush down it in the three stripes.

—

The Kal Project take 2: Kal POV

During Kal’s break, he finds Shepard at the galaxy map. While he wasn’t intentionally seeking her out, it is nice to have run into her. The map is transformed to a hologram of a planet, most likely the one they’re orbiting, and her hands are outstretched, manipulating two circular holograms in front of her. There’s a graph to the side, fluctuating with its spikes. He leans against her desk on the left, crossing his arms as he watches her. She’s utterly focused on her work, with that familiar scowl pinching her brow. His eyes trace the scar on her cheek, and then the line of her jaw to follow down her neck. He can feel himself blush as he follows it all the way down her biceps and forearms to her hands once more. Ancestors, she’s beautiful. “Something interesting, Kal?” Her head is turned toward him now, when he snaps his head up to meet her eyes. He gives a little shake to his head. “Just you.” She scoffs, looking forward again, but she doesn’t quite smother her grin. After a moment of staring at the hologram, she looks to him once more and juts her head. “Well, come on.” He lets out a little “yay,” as he eagerly straightens and ascends the steps to stand next to her.

—

Untitled Joker/James: Joker POV

Joker always thought Ashley was exaggerating about getting trapped in awkward elevator rides but here he is. Joker stands like a normal person in it, in the middle, simply watching the numbers tick down. James on the other hand, leans against the wall with his hands in his pockets. Staring at him. On principle, Joker doesn’t stare at the way his Henley stretches across his chest. It’s like every shirt the man owns is a size too small.

—

Untitled mistletoe Garrus/Mshep: Garrus POV

Christmas tradition. Everything the past two weeks have been about Christmas traditions according to Joker. Burnt cookies stinking up the battery from how bad Jack made them. Multicolored lights everywhere Jacob could put them and, in some places, where he shouldn’t. Glitter… everywhere. Mistletoe. The little sprigs of plants seem to be everywhere on the ship, no doubt curtesy of Kasumi. Joker and Miranda got caught under one and after a simple kiss, both looked away with bashful eyes. Zaeed had managed to catch Samara and after him blustering for about a minute she had kissed his cheek. He stood there bright red while she continued with her day. Kasumi has yet to get Jacob under one. Shepard got caught. With Jack. And when the two realized, they stared at each other for a mere second before colliding together in a comically exaggerated kiss. They broke away laughing, Jack’s lipstick smeared over both of their mouths. After that, Garrus decided mistletoe wasn’t fun anymore.

No pressure tagging: @jtownnn @xoshepard @nowandthane @swaps55 @cr-noble-writes @commander-krios @spacebunshep and if anyone else wants to do this tag me!

[bioticbooty]

Snippet Sunday Wednesday

Tagged by @swaps55 like two weeks ago but my life is a chaos fire!

Since it's not actually Sunday anymore, I'm future tagging @ad-astra13, @cr-noble-writes, @elaadens, and anyone else who wants to have an excuse to post immediately come Sunday morning.

From The Great Rewrite of Crosshairs

---

Ashley blindly sprays bullets behind her as she runs, hoping to god her shields hold till she finds cover.

Everything went to shit over the god forsaken dig-site with the old Prothean beacon. At least, that’s what she thinks she heard the LT, god bless his unlucky soul, call it. She’s not a scientist, she’s a marine.

Right now, she’s a royally screwed marine.

She slams into a rock and rolls behind it for cover, praying to god that the heat sink on her gun cycles in time to lay down cover fire. Her HUD is haywire, Henrick is also dead so there’s no getting her HUD fixed, and it’s just her and what seems like an entire fucking platoon of geth come to wreck shit up on Eden Prime for an old rock. Right now, she fucking hates scientists.

“Come on, baby,” she murmurs as the vents on her gun continue to cycle.

She’s long since run out of grenades.

She hasn’t crapped her heat sink like this since Basic.

Her gun finally cycles, but before she can even swing out to shoot, the sharp crack of a sniper rifle sings through the canyon and Ashley whoops for joy. The geth that had been honing in her rock is dead on the ground, though Ashley puts a bullet in the head for good measure, just as the sniper rifle sings again.

Another geth near her position collapses and a third geth is enveloped in a shimmering field before being unceremoniously hurled over the edge of the cliff.

Between her rifle and the unseen helpers, they make short work of the remaining geth. Sabotage mines, more biotics, and even more cracks of the sniper. The cavalry has arrived!

Two marines file out of the canyon, and Ashley glances behind them to look for the stragglers, but there aren’t any. She’s completely thrown when she returns her gaze back to the two marines and realizes Commander Fucking Shepard, War Hero of the Blitz, is the one in the lead. Fucking Alliance gold standard. And now she’s standing there right in front of Ashley, with a biotic marine watching her flank like nothing’s gonna get past him alive. Considering the pyrotechnic display, Ashley rather believes the marine — the Lieutenant — will put a bullet or a biotic punch in whatever tries to get past him. Nothing’s gonna touch the Commander’s six on his watch.

“Thank you, Commander,” Ashley says by way of greeting. “You pulled my ass out of the fire. Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams of the 212.” She glances at the LT again, then salutes the Commander. “Or what’s left of it.”

Shepard dismisses her salute with a casual wave. “Are you wounded, Williams?”

“A few scrapes and bruises. Nothing serious,” she says, and realizes she’s touching the blood on her armor by the way the LT is looking at her. She drops her hands. The blood isn’t hers. “The others… weren’t so lucky.”

“I’m Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko,” the LT says, “let’s get you checked out just in case.”

Ashley nods and let’s the Lieutenant do his thing. Biotic and a medic. Hell of a six to have.

“Is it just you two?” she asks him while he syncs her hardsuit to his, adding her bio-feeds to his HUD.

Alenko nods, but his lips thin momentarily behind his helmet. “Was three,” he says.

The Commander is nowhere to be seen, so Ashley twists and finds her scouting the perimeter, inspecting the downed geth. The Commander stops when she reaches the bend, and Ashley knows precisely what it is she’s looking at. “Dragon’s teeth,” she says.

Alenko looks up at her from his omni-tool. “What?”

Ashley jerks her head towards Shepard. “The Commander just saw the Dragon’s Teeth.”

Alenko will see them soon enough, too. Ashley’s seen too many. And it’s only been two hours since everything began. Two hours ago, she had a unit. Now the whole area’s choked with death and gunfire and Dragon’s Teeth mutilating their dead.

“You’re good, Gunny.”

“Hmm,” she says. “Don’t feel good.”

“No,” Alenko replies after a moment, “nobody would.”

[omniblades-and-stars]

Holding on to hell?

Fellow Zaeed appreciator you are. You sniffed a Shaeed one out! I wrote a little microstory to this effect a bit ago and then I was like ... fuck that's good, I need to explore both the way dying changed Shepard and made her feel alien to much of her previous life, and how I think Zaeed Massani is actually a really fucking good mirror for that. (Plus I'm obsessed, alright?)

Anyways, in a post destroy ending, Zaeed and Shepard just kind of gravitate towards each other but haven't actually talked about whatever is going on between them. Despite living together. Cause I'm a messy bitch who likes messy bitch things.

Shepard pushed the front door open, but kicked her shoes against the metal frame plate, trying in vain to knock enough mud off of them to make a difference before she stepped inside. She tossed the keys to the ATV at Zaeed, who caught them with ease, and sat down on the little step stool propped up across from the door.

"That boy's in love with you," he remarked so matter-of-factly she thought it sounded like he was giving her the weather forecast. It was a balmy seventy-three degrees outside, with a forty percent chance of rain, and Kaidan Alenko was in love with her.

Shepard paused her efforts to get free of her mud caked boots and looked up at him. A flicker of grief passed over tired eyes before she looked back down at her sopping wet laces. Briefly, she considered tying them back up and going back out on the four-wheeler. The wind whipping through her hair and the leaves stinging at her face as she tore through the narrow trails was almost enough to distract her from the dark clouds and rolling thunder that ate up all of the thoughts in her head, replacing them with horrible, twisted specters and vivid memories that smelled like blood and acrid smoke.

Still, one by one she pulled the laces free of the hook eyelets. "No, he's not," she said, finally breaking the silence. "He's in love with the Commander who got an obituary and a twenty-one gun salute. He thinks now that he's done his grieving everything just goes back the way it was." As though they had even been together long enough to build some sort of "normal".

Grief twisted itself up into a horrid knot in her gut with the passing of every second and turned into something more palpable - the bitter taste of anger on her tongue. How dare Alenko just drop in on her like that? That was the whole point of going to the middle of fucking nowhere, so people were disinclined to just pop on by like a neighbor asking for a cup of sugar. The day had started off good, she had even fooled herself into believing she might scrape through the night without a waking nightmare. Her luck couldn't be that good though. Not when the whole fucking galaxy felt like it owned little pieces of her.

Like she was some sort of fucked up, living, breathing timeshare.

One boot came free and slammed into the wall next to the front door, leaving a muddy print behind. It's companion followed immediately after, propelled by the fury hiding beneath the carefully schooled neutrality on her face. She wasn't fooling either of them.

It built up, and she felt like she could scream and rant and destroy everything she had and then some. It passed in a matter of seconds, a feeling she should have been used to by now. Like a candle suddenly guttering out in the wind, all that were left was wisps of smoke, and the feeling like she was melting wax. Her shoulders fell and she dropped her face in her hands as short-lived rage gave way to exhaustion. "That Shepard stayed dead."

The Shepard she was, the one stuck in a body rebuilt by terrorists and then sort of rebuilt again by military doctors working with nowhere near the technology or time as the first time, was tainted by Hell. She was a fire-blackened carcass covered in cloned and grafted skin, stuck back together with donor parts, and held in place by what remained of her fancy cybernetics that hadn't been utterly destroyed in the destruction of the Citadel.

She wondered then, as she often did, if there was even anything of the original Shepard left.

[hirik0]

Forced Proximity

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7

Day 7

CW: mentioning sexual harassment

Ghost is waiting to get his injured arms x-rayed again. Looking how good they healed by now. Usally he would be annoyed by this, but he's in a good mood after his call with Soap yesterday. God he's down bad, Simon brought a bunch of emotions with him from his grave in Ghost mind. Even the nurses pick up on it, he needs to fix this. He is a private person and being part if the infirmary gossip makes his skin crawl. At least they think its a someone of the nursing staff, besides the head nurse. She is on to them, something about 25 years of experience and watching pinning soilders. Atleast she's supportive, saying that it was about to happen in a task force like the 141. And she's right he and Soap work together since the start of 141 and had countless missions together. Besides Roach Soap is the only person he touches outside of whats absolute necessary.

Soap sits in his office just coming back from a walk with Riley when Shepard walks in. Oh shit. "Captain MacTavish", he greats with a smile on his face. Oh he's fucked. "General how nice to have you here", Soap lies through his teeth, not even trying to smile knowing he cant pull it of. "I have a special mission for the 141", Shepard starts and Soap is braceing himself mentally. "As I told you everyone is eighter already out or on medical leave", Soap repeats his statement from 2 days ago. "Isn't Sergeant Sanderson and his team back by now?", Shepard asks and Soap gets a really bad feeling. "They are stucked in a monsume, when I checked din with him your save house was turning the lower level in a pool", Soap explains. "Who will back first?", Shepard demands to know. "Price and Beta Team is coming back to night." "Thats to late.", the General complaints trying to starr Soap down, force him to agree. "I'm sorry General, but we can't take this mission. We honstely don't have space for any additional missions. We are really busy." "How convinced Captain", Shepard already losing his patience. If looks could kill Soap would lie on the floor by now. "Is not my fault we found a intel gold mine and have to hunt down the leads", Soap conters the accusation of the General. "What do we even work with you together if you cant even take one singel mission", Shepard smears and Soap has to put a lot of effort keep his cool. Soap stays silent everything he wants to say will keep him longer on Shepards shit list. "The pentagon should probably cut the american buged for the 141", Shepard continues his angry rant. Shepards monologe goes on for 20 minutes and he ends it with: "Well maybe I should put my own men in the taskforce so that the job finally gets done right." "Well General if you're not happy with how the 141 is working you can make your own special taskforce, we had no complaints about our work yet", is the most diplomatic think Soap can muster to say, basically telling the General that he is the problem. Shepard is fuming at this before angry storming out of the office. Yeah, place 1 of the shit list is still his. He is so fucking angry about how Shepard smeared the work of the 141. This is now personal for him.

Soap is in the worst mode for having any disciplinary talks, but it has to be done. He just hopes this don't get on his nerves to much. He didn't hade any time to blow of some steam, so his ability to take anymore bullshit is absolute zero. Riley is leaving him alone sensing his bad moot, laying a bit further away carefully watching him. She has seen some of Ghost angry out bursts and the aftermath of them. How draind Ghost is after them, sometimes about to cry when he realises how much like his father he is. Sergeant Meyers is walking in Soaps office and Soap is tensing. "Captain MacTavish", the Sergeant greats him saluting. Soap hates how relaxed Meyers is about the situation. Probably got away with it before. Soaps blood is boiling already. He will get all up in Meyers face, the second Meyers steps over the line. "I have a complain about your behaviour Sergeant", Soap simply states, Meyers still being way to relaxed. "From whom?" "Anonymous." "So it's all made up then if they don't even want to but their name on it." Soap is disgusted by the smugness in the Sergeants voice. "Oh so you didn't encourage or atleast dont stop 5 Privats to sexual harassing a fellow female soilder?", Soap asks giving Meyers one last chance to admit. "Never seen or heard a thing, Sir." " So you never over heard and I quote: " 'With this fat tits you should change carriers, I would be your first costumer'?" Meyers confidence is waving when he hears the disgust in Soaps voice. "No, Sir." "What about 'Can I cover you big titts with my cum? I bet it would make them look even better'?" "No, Sir." "So you didn't tell Private Hotchner last week that 'she would help bossting morals by not covering up her big fat titts'?" "I..", Meyers stammers knowing he's in deap shit. "Answer the question Sergeant. Yes or No. Did you or did you not?", Soap voice cold with rage his eyes burning holes in the Sergeants head. "Yes, Sir", the Sergeant stammers out. "So am I right to assume that the female Privates don't feel comfortable to report this kind of harassment to you?" "Yes, Sir", the face of the Sergeant an unhealthy pale. "Why do you think thats the case?" "Because I.. because I participate in the same behaviour, Sir." "You still think the report is fake, Sergeant?", Soap asks his finale question. "I.. no Sir." "Thats what I thought", Soap spit out his voice cold and emotionless. Meyers squirms under his gaze, nervously waiting for whatvever punishment the Captain sees fit. "What's my punishment, Sir?", the Sergeant asks when Soap continues to burn holes in his head. "I will talk about it with Captain Price and Ghost", Soap answers a cold smile on his face. "Ghost?", Meyers stammers about to faint now. "That's a problem?" "No Sir." "Oh and Sergeant you will punish and observe the punishment of the 5 Privates. They will clean the showers with a toothbrush, for the next 2 months " "Yes Sir, of course Sir." "I will know if you let them get away with this or make their punishment easier." Meyers only nots at this not able to verbaly confirm he understood. "Dismissed." Meyers nearly runs out his Office.

Riley carefully puts one of her paws on Soaps leg. Getting aggressive head scratches from Soap, who takes a deep breath he needs to punch someone or fuck, he don't care at this point. He lets out a sign before giving Riley his full attention for now. Scratching Rileys favourite spot behind her left ear. Riley is resting her head on Soaps leg looking content. "Spoiling my dog with affection, Captain?", a voice sudenly asks, making Soap flinch. "Fuck Ghost, stop living up to your call sign", Soap complains looking up again. "Not my problem when you don't pay attention to your surroundings", Ghost says shrugging, a amused glint in his eyes. "You're allowed out of medical?", Soap changes the topic. "All healing well, 3 more weeks then the cast gets of", Ghost states and Soap senses that something is up. "You want a medical leave form?", Soap asks. "No, I can recover on base, shorter ways. You know." Soap needs to a moment so he don't say anything he shouldn't say no the admin building. "Of course, so you here to take Riley with you?", Soap asks. "No." Soap frowns at this, what does Ghost want then. "Over heared your littel talk with Meyers. Poor guy nearly fainted when he saw me", Ghost says casually aproaching Soap. Soap trys to watch Ghost and the door at the same time, if Shepard honestly anyone walks in they are fucked. Ghost leans down before wispers I his ear: "You're frustrated, Captain?" Ghost voice is so low and deep right now giving Soap goosebumps. "Yes", Soap admits before waiting for Ghost respons. "Want to get some stress relief?" Soap breath hitches at this, hes breathing now audioable. "No, yes I.. fuck Simon not here", Soap shutters out, looking at the door warry that every can see them. "Know a spot", Ghost wispers such nice dirty promises in his ear. Soaps brain sady reminds him about an important detail. "We can't Shepard is on base", Soap says knowing he's ruining the mood with this. He wants to hear more about Ghost plan. Ghost makes a frustrated noice before pulling back, looking more affected by this then Soap.

Ghost pupils are blown, the usual cold blue's producing a lot of heat right now. He just wants a good fuck is that to much to ask? "What did he want?", Ghost asks crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Tryed to give us a mission." "We have enough mission and not enough people already", Ghost reminds both of them of their big workload of the last two months. "Wanted to send Roach and the two FNGs out, but that's not the worst yet. Sounds like he wants to partly take 141 over", Soap explains why he got out of the conversation this morning. "He will have to rip the taskforce out of Price dead hands, old man probably will come back from the dead to prevent this", Ghost jokes to lighten the mood a bit, knowing Soap knows that he takes this serious. "I think he would like to replace me." Ghost eyes turn dark at this filled with cold rage. "Think that's what all this is about. He knows he can't get Price out, so he targets me. Think about it, the shady interrogation on our home base with his own men. The 'important' mission for Roach that cant wait till Price and Beta team are back." "Thinks that would cause a public up roar, if ever found out. Maybe bad enough to get kicked out", Ghost concludes the atmosphere of the room took a 180 by now. "Fucking cunt", Ghost courses, making Soap laugh unamused. "When does Price come back?", Ghost asks the sooner Price is back the better. "22:00"

Ghost still sits in Soaps office, giving Riley all the attention that she wants. Being deep in thought, first his mind was occupied with their littel problem with Shepard. How he could kill him, slow and painful, so many good options for this too. The sad reality is that it has to look like a accident, maybe they could lead a false trace, but a quick accident something totally ordinary would be the safest choice. People died all the time falling down stairs or getting run over by a car. But after reading the complaints he is thinking about a good punishment for Meyers. "Soap?", Ghost asks in the comfortable silence. "Aye?", Soap answers not looking up from his papers. "How about the person that filed the complaint is chossing the punishment?", Ghost suggests making Soap look up. "If Price agrees, I don't see why not", Soap says with a smile. Soap is streaching his arms before standing up, getting Riley to walk to the door exited. "You're coming?", Soap ask leash in the hand. Ghost stands up needing to stretch himself after who knows long he sat on the chair.

They walk next to each other towards the forest, making sure they don't walk to close to each other. Riley pulling the leash the whole time very excited over her owner being back to walk her, more or less. Ghost looks over his shoulder the buildings of the base only small dots in the distance. He starts feeling nervous, its ridiculous being this nervous over what is is about to do. He carefully reaches out for Soaps hand, brushing there fingers against eachother. It could be seen as a radom touch, but Soap hooks his ring and littel finger with Ghosts. Both men smiling softly, it doesn't really fit them with what they do for work. They kill for a living but here they are holding hands walking Riley together it's disgustingly domestic. The cold persona of the Ghost is being pushed aside by Simon. It is strange after such a long time to be just Simon again. Its a bit overwhelming to feel so much emotionally, but the warmth of the intertwined fingers ground him. Riley stops at a tree sniffing it very intresteted. They turn to each other Ghost smile getting bigger when he sees the light pink blush on Soaps cheeks. Soap looks so soft at him before stepping closer. He puts both his hands at the seam of Ghost balacalava waiting, silently asking Ghost for permission. Soap carefully pulls the fabric up, stoping the the bridge of his nose. Soap licks over his lips needing some time flashing a shy smile at Ghost. Ghost huffs amused about the absurdity of them publicly wispering filthy promises to each other but getting all shy about holding hands and kissing. Soap opens his mouth to ask what's so funny, but Ghost is leaning in and the question is wipped out of Soaps brain. Soap closes the gap, pressing his lips against Ghost. It's shy kiss, but feels perfect for the peaceful moment. Soap presses his nose against Ghosts feeling like when he had his first kiss with Susie Prentes in 8th grade. The warm and giddy feeling of kissing someone you care about for the first time. He can't stop the big smile apearing on his face, humming pleased when he sees the mirroring smile on Simon.

Ghost thought by the record how all their interactions about what is in between them go, that their kiss would be filthy. Instead it was soft and tame, he's fucking gone by this simple gesture. All kisses Ghost had up to this point where part of getting ready to fuck, they where filthy, desperate and hungry. But this kiss was the exact opposite of this and they shouldn't kiss like this. Soft kisses and holding hands is something you do when you're in love. Love has no place in their line of work, only would end in disaster but he dont care. Seeing how Soap is looking and smiling at him, washes the cold loneliness away, sooths the need of 6 year-old Simon Riley to be loved. They kiss again the shyness washed away by the understanding they both feel the same. When Soap licks over his lips Ghost pulls away. "To much?", Soap asks. "No, but if we make out I might don't care if you fuck me in a forest on the ground with no lube", Ghost atmids blushing himself now. "Sounds good to me." Soaps eyes are sinfull to look at right now, how they are darkened and the pupils are a bigger then needed for the amount of rest day light. "Yeah, I think Riley would not like that", Ghost reminds Soap of why they are even in the forest. The tree long had stopped being interesting and Riley patiently sits to their feet, waiting. "Another time then", Soap jokes while shrugging his shoulders. "You're into this primal stuff Soap?", Ghost ask suprised before stepping away. Soap looks uterly confused by the question. "A primal kink Soap, like hunting someone before you fuck on the floor like animals for example", Ghost explains, seeing the moment when realisation is washing over Soap. Soap blushes at this before he starts walking again. The next time Soap is on leave he needs to do some research.

They are standing next to the air field waiting for Price to return. They need to talk with Price as soon as possible. It dark already so they would here the apraoching plane long before they see it. "Ghost?", Soap asks knowing that now is not the time or place but he needs to now. Ghost humms as answer turning towards Soap. "Are you into it?", Soap asks referring to their talk in the forest. "I'm into things that are part of it, but I wouldn't say I have it", Ghost answers their conversation covered up from unwanted eardropers by a starting helicopter. Soap nods at this starring in the night sky again to look for the plane. "You think you have it?", Ghost asks curious. "Don't known need to look it up first", Soap answers sounding a bit mortifyed. "Would you, I mean if I had it?", Soap asks nervously. Ghost keeps his answer for later because General Shepard is aproaching them. "Captain MacTavish, Lieutenant Riley", he greats them. "General", they answer in unison. "How long till they land?", Shepard asks. "10 minutes, Sir", Soap answers. This are the longest 10 minutes of Soaps life. When the airplane finally lands and an exhausted Price and Beta team emerged Shepard marche towards them. Ghost and Soap give each other warry side glances. Price says something that Shepard doesn't like because they end up arguing. It seems like Shepard lost the argument because he storms of angry. Price walks towards them. "Price", Soap greats him and Ghost gives him a nod. "What's going on with Shepard and why is he even here?", Price asks. "To cause trouble", Soap simply answers. "What did you do Soap?", Price asks tiered, like he dont have the mental energy to deal with this. "I declined two of his request that where very last minute", Soap gives the short answer. "We talk about this tomorrow." "Yes, Sir."

[bagog]

N7 Month, 2023 - Day 9: Holiday

A soft little scene between Liara and Shepard. Friends being good friends.

++

It was late, and Shepard—unable to sleep—had gone to the CIC to check up on the graveyard shift. On a whim he rode the lift down to the crew deck. It was largely deserted except for one exhausted looking ensign who was reading a data-pad with heavy eyes and guzzling coffee. He thought of exchanging pleasantries, but honestly the ensign hadn’t noticed him and he didn’t want to make the guy pop out of his chair and salute or something.

He noticed, then, that the holo-lock on Liara’s door was still green. She’d been burning the midnight oil every night she’d been aboard, but this was truly late even by her own standards. Shepard found himself ringing the door chime, and a moment later, the door slid open.

“Happy Pasharat, Commander.” Glyph floated just inside the door, ‘dressed’ in his holographic bowtie.

“Shepard,” Liara was slumped into an arm chair next to a stack of data-pads. She was holding what looked like some kind of zither she’d been idly plucking. She yawned and drew herself up, but Shepard held up a hand when she made to rise.

“Surprised to see you up this late, Liara.” Shepard sat down: Liara’s office honestly one of the only places he felt comfortable just sitting for a few minutes.

“It’s the first day of Pasharat,” Liara smiled. “I’m waiting till midnight, Thessia-time, to welcome in the holiday.” She gestured to the low table that sat between them, where there was a candle steadily burning through a spectrum of colors that couldn’t exactly have been said to be a rainbow, but likely looked that way if your eyes had evolved on Thessia.

“Pasharat?” Shepard quirked an eyebrow.

“Mhm,” Liara nodded, yawning again. “It’s the maiden festival on Thessia, the parts of it who follow the Athame doctrine, anyway. Six days of parades, food,” she held up the zither half-heartedly, “And music.”

“I didn’t know you played a…?”

“Trahamial, training young asari how to play it used to be one of the four cardinal studies for a young maiden. I’m afraid I never got the traditional education.” She plucked the trahamial a few times. “Because of my mother, I never celebrated Pasharat when I was younger. Said she had celebrated enough of them in her lifetime, and wasn’t going to bring all of the holiday detritus into our home.”

“That sounds… like she didn’t have a very festive spirit.”

“Oh no, she did,” Liara shook her head, eyelids still heavy. “She’d just lived a long time, she was a new mother at 850 years old, there were so many compromises she made in her life so I could grow up well, but there are certain compromises she wouldn’t make.” She gestured to the candle. “Pasharat was one of them.”

“When did you start celebrating? When you went out on your own?”

Liara laughed, “This is the first time I ever have. I found a trahamial for sale on the Citadel. I couldn’t believe the shops were still putting out holiday decorations with the war so close. Felt like if everyone else could be celebrating…” She sighed. “Pasharat celebrates the younger years of an asari’s life. It’s meant to be a time to rejoice in and reflect on what has shaped you as a person, and all the opportunities life has to bring. But this year…”

“The Reapers.”

“Yes,” she nodded gravely. “…I’m young for my people. This holiday is for me. It should be a time of celebration, but… I may not live to see another Pasharat. None of us might.”

“People need to celebrate, Liara,” Shepard said softly. “I have to believe that as bad as things get, people need to recognize the things that matter.”

“You’re right,” Liara yawned, but didn’t seem too convinced. She looked like she was about to say more when Glyph chimed in.

“It is midnight on Thessia, Dr. T’Soni. Happy Pasharat.”

Liara smiled sadly, and leaned forward to blow out her candle.

“I can finally go to bed. But now I feel like I don’t want to,” She smiled, eased back into her chair.

“Can you play me any songs on that thing?” Shepard pointed to the instrument. Liara laughed.

“No!” The two shared the chuckle. Liara plucked the strings a few times experimentally anyhow. “Thank you, Shepard. For spending my first Pasharat with me.”

“Here’s to many more to come!” He beamed.

“To many more to come,” Liara finally conceded.

[carinavet]

Stripes

Charlie had never been more comfortable in her life. She lay on her stomach in her bunk, perfectly relaxed, as Garrus lazily trailed a talon in lines across her back.

"I really do like your stripes," he commented, in an offhand sort of way.

"My what?" Charlie asked sleepily.

"Your stripes."

"... What stripes?" she asked, starting to wake up a bit.

"... Your stripes. These."

Charlie raised herself up on her elbows to look at him. "Garrus, what the fuck are you taking about?"

"What do you mean? These." He ran a talon across her arm, where she could see.

"Garrus, there aren't any stripes there. It's just skin."

"What are you taking about? Of course there are stripes on your skin. Here."

"Are you messing with me?

"Are you messing with me?"

___

"And he's convinced that I have stripes. Says all the humans have them."

"That's insane," Joker said. "You're insane. Raise by ten credits."

"... But you do have stripes," Tali put in. All the humans at the table turned to stare at her. "What? You do!"

"See?!" Garrus gestured wildly. "It's not just me!"

"Hang on," Vega interjected, putting his cards down. "You both see stripes? On all of us?"

"I don't see anything," Grunt said.

"Humans do have stripes," said EDI. Though she sat in on the poker games socially, she wasn't allowed to play, since she counted cards automatically. "Though they're only visible in the UV range."

Once again all the humans turned in concert, though this time there was a general uproar.

"Wait wait wait." Joker managed to raise his voice above the clamor. "What do they look like? Are they all the same?"

EDI, Garrus, and Tali looked the humans over. "No," Tali said. Some are blockier, some are more swirly, and they're all slightly different colors."

"So what do MINE look like?" Joker asked.

"Wish I could see 'em," Vega said, looking down at his own arm.

"... There's gotta be a marker or something somewhere on this ship, right?" Charlie asked.

Everyone went quiet again for a moment.

"Ensign Fowl does charcoals," Tali finally said.

___

There was a knock at the door.

"I'm not getting up," Ensign Renards said.

"If that's Checkov coming to borrow money again, you can fuck off!" Ensign Fowl shouted.

"It is not Checkov," a very familiar voice said from the other side of the door.

Fowl and Renards gave each other an alarmed look, then scrambled out of their respective bunks. Renards shoved sundry items that had been strewn across the floor under his bunk then stood at attention while Fowl hurried to the door.

"Commander!" they said, saluting in unison as Fowl ripped the door open.

"At ease."

They were decidedly not at ease. They did their best not to gape at the Commander Shepard in their doorway, her closest companions crowded in the hallway behind her.

"What, uh..." Fowl started. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"I actually have a favor to ask you, Ensign. May I borrow one of your charcoals?"

Fowl stared. Behind him, Renards hurriedly grabbed a charcoal out of a tin and shoved it into Fowl's hand.

"Sure," Fowl finally said, still a bit dazed, and held the charcoal out. "Sure."

"Thank you, Ensign. As you were."

The two ensigns gaped through the open doorway as the group of some of the most respected and feared soldiers in the galaxy turned away and started whispering together on the way down the hall. They didn't catch much, other than "EDI can trace them" and something about... stripes?

___

___

masterpost

[sparatus]

Get to know your fanfic writer!

tagged by @teamdilf thanks j!!

When did you post your first ever fanfic?

i mean theoretically somewhere around 2012 on facebook and now lost to time, but the first one i could actually link you was 2013. it was twispitefic, bella goes to hell to be judged, i tried to mimic smeyer's style and everything

First Character(s) you wrote?

liz and kidd from soul eater. thank god for SE saving me from admitting the much worse animes i got into after it.

Main Character(s) you’re currently writing?

all from mass effect, the arterius clan and associates (saren, desolas, nihlus, abrudas, avitus, and macen), cnclr sparatus and oc family, and i guess shepard's in here too somewhere maybe. also axilus madelivio, another oc character. my baby boy.

Character(s) you haven’t written about before but plan to write about soon?

i was about to say avi but there was a whole summer when andromeda came out that i wrote nothing but avitus/macen macen lives au so. :thunk: i mean for some halloweenie challenge stuff i'm about to dive a bit deeper into more of the sparatus clan who haven't gotten spotlight, esp katus and the sylidros side of the family - katus is sparky's great-grandfather, great mountain of a man, probably single-handedly responsible for several of his descendants' large sizes, and also had an encounter with some 3000-year-old war ghosts imprinted on the shortwave radio. also we're going to dive headfirst into garrus's squad pretty soon, i've meddled with the story and oops i'm attached to characters doomed to die again

Fandom(s) you’re currently writing?

mass effect lol

Platonic pairing(s) you’re currently writing?

Saren Arterius & Desolas Arterius, Sparatus & Quentius, Saren Arterius & Nihlus Kryik & Avitus Rix

Romantic pairing(s) you’re currently writing?

Desolas/Abrudas, Sparatus/OC, Saren/Nihlus, Avitus/Macen, Garrus/OC, Shepard/Jack, OC/OC

Your top AO3 tags?

Pre-Canon, AU - No Reapers, AU - Canon Divergence, Alien Culture, Developing Relationship, Grief/Mourning

Current platform you use for posting?

AO3

Snippet of the WIP you are currently working on?

have the start of itlog ch18 - if bioware can have random npcs pop up to pass on mission-specific leads, so can i, and these ones have their own series to go with them

--

If Jack had been nervy at mention of this mysterious "Haasn" before, Shepard was sure Narcisa leading them to one of the private rooms upstairs didn't help one bit.

Nor did the turian's chipper warning to don't take the captain too seriously or assurance that he's just mean to everyone. That made them feel worse. They were half tempted to go back downstairs and insist Nihlus go deal with it himself, or have the conversation over text if he was so determined not to relinquish his precious owed favor.

The lock turned green as soon as Narcisa knocked. Too late.

Narcisa herded them in before her, then sidestepped and snapped an off-kilter salute. "This is them, Boss," she announced into the dim room. "You need anything from downstairs quick, 'fore the rush starts?"

A low rumble rose, bouncing off the soundproofing so it was hard to tell where it was coming from. If Shepard squinted, they could just barely make out a large, hulking shape lazing across the couch across from them. "We ordered food, see if Rielle's got it," a dual-toned baritone slid out of the mass. "Thanks, Narcisa."

She chirruped, then disappeared, the door sliding shut behind her and cutting most of the lights. All Shepard could make out of Jack beside them was a weak outline cast by the singular overhead left on in the middle of the room.

Fabric slid across fabric. "So this is the mighty Shepard." The new voice was just this side of synthesized, as if coming through a speaker. Off to the left of the big shape, a row of lights Shepard assumed were part of the sound system blinked in and out, and two moved forward – eyelights. "Your mentor is a crafty bastard, you know."

Shepard grimaced. "You appear to have us at a disadvantage," they pointed out, trying to keep their voice level and polite. "Humans can't see very well in the dark."

The big one, a turian they assumed, snorted. "Yeah, Thie, where's your manners? You're sitting in front of the dimmer."

The eyelights narrowed, but before their owner spoke, one light winked out with a soft pap and a giggle. The figure heaved a sigh. “You know what else can’t see in the dark, Ax?”

The turian, Ax apparently, and Shepard tried very hard not to jump to conclusions about what it might be short for, snorted as the lights came up. The eyelights were, in fact, a quarian, a rather scruffy-looking one in a suit of sun-faded blue and lots of patchwork. Their mask was blue, too, but laced with translucent white etching in a stark, triangle-heavy pattern over where their cheekbones, forehead, and chin would be. One hand held back a little periwinkle asari child, who was sticking their tongue out playfully as they stretched out their chubby little baby arms towards them. “Your spawn.”

--

tagging @nightmarestudio606 @otemporanerys @heymacareyna and anybody else who wants to!

[mtreebeardiles]

Trials & Tribulations, WIP

Finding little bits and pieces I can start writing and idk when I'll be done with it since I got A Lot Happening but this character started talking randomly today and who am I to ignore him? From "Trials & Tribulations," Everett Shepard's pre-ME1 story

Finding time for yourself was virtually impossible on a ship that crewed nearly 300 people. Despite a plethora of decks, messes, lounges, and quarters divided up amongst the different command chains, there was always someone somewhereeven when they probably weren’t supposed to be.

Exhibit A: fighter pilot Jordan Keens, sneaking into the officers’ mess after hours.

Exhibit B: unknown white boy in an oversized hoodie already in the mess hall, eating what appeared to be some honest to god chocolate chip cookies while he read a data pad.

And not the shitty air sealed ones Dario ordered last time.

Jordan narrowed his eyes at the same time his stomach gave an audible rumble. Either it was louder than he thought or the guy had amazing hearing, because his head jerked up a split-second later.

“Uh.” 

Gray eyes seemed to pin him to the spot, an intensity in that gaze that made Jordan hyper aware of himself in a way that bordered on uncomfortable. It eased as the scrutiny did, however, and he exhaled slowly. 

“Sorry,” he went on, flashing the stranger a lopsided grin. “Usually no one’s here, uh. I’m um. I’m Jordan Keens — Flight-Second Jordan Keens, with Torrent Squadron.”

He inwardly cursed at how jumbled his words were getting, but it was kind of the other guy’s fault for not wearing any uniform with clear rank markings. Jordan may have shown up in his varren slippers, but the rest of his uniform was technically appropriate. 

“Lieutenant Commander Everett Shepard,” the stranger replied. The words didn’t come easily from his lips, almost as if he wanted to hold them back. Jordan didn’t think much of it, too busy flashing a hasty salute the moment he heard “commander,” brain trying to remember why the rest of it sounded familiar, too. He wasn’t part of the regular Tokyocrew; maybe he was the newcomer Merrick had mentioned earlier?

“Ah, shit, sorry — erm, I mean, sir. Sorry, sir. Ah, fuck.”

Jordan was now keenly aware of his slippers, especially as the Commander finally glanced down and took note of them. 

A small smile tugged at the man’s lips, his guard slipping ever so slightly before he smoothed his expression back to neutral.

“At ease,” he murmured. “Wasn’t expecting anyone, either, if I’m honest.” His gaze flicked down to the plate of cookies before him before glancing back at Jordan, and Jordan could sense his hesitation even as he added, "did you… would you like some?"

"Cookies?"

"They're fresh-baked."

Sold. 

"Don't mind if I do!" Jordan knew he needed an actual snack, but a lifelong sweet-tooth skewed his priorities at the best of times and he'd been standing there long enough to pick up on the faint scent in the air that all but confirmed the guy was telling the truth -- these were fresh, still warm to the touch as he scooped one up, chocolate going deliciously gooey in his mouth at that first bite. 

"Oh mah gahd…" A hand over his mouth saved some of his dignity, though he caught the return of the small smile on the Commander's lips when he opened his eyes again. He swallowed, flashing him a wide grin of his own. "These are so good -- er. Sir."

"Thank you."

Jordan blinked, taking a moment to piece it together. A glance around the mess confirmed that they were alone, and if these were fresh, and the Commander seemed pleased that he liked them…

"…wait. You made these?"

A faint flush rose in Shepard's cheeks. "I did."

"Holy crap like -- holy crap!" He looked towards the kitchenette, spotting honest to god sugar, mixing bowls… "You made these from scratch!"

"Um. Was that a question or a statement?"

"On a ship! Who bakes on a ship?"

"Not every meal is from a box…"

"Well okay, sure, we get some good stuff every now and then as a treat but like! Not actual treats! Hey, what division are you with? I don't think I know you."

It occurred to Jordan as his mouth went off a mile a minute that he was being pretty forward, if not blatantly familiar, with a superior officer. But Shepard didn't seem to mind, another twitch of that smile tugging at the corners of his lips, and that steely gaze he'd greeted him with had eased into something almost…

Kind. Maybe even a little shy. 

"Marine detail," he replied.

"Ah, damn." 

An eyebrow cocked, and Jordan hurried to explain, "Was kinda hopin' you were with the flight crew."

"Oh." A pause. "Why?"

"Because if there's gonna be some crazy talented baker just hanging out on the ship, I want dibs on that friendship, y'know?"

Jordan's smile was back, and he waggled his eyebrows for good measure to assure the other man that he was joking -- mostly. 

"We can't be friends if we're not in the same division?" Both eyebrows were raised now.

"Welllll sure, but Marines, y'know?" Jordan wrinkled his nose for added effect.

"Traditionally assholes, sure," Shepard replied without missing a beat. He met Jordan's eye and this time the smile did more than twitch, and the next thing he knew they were laughing. Shepard gave the plate a nudge towards the center of the table, an open invitation for Jordan to take as many as he liked. The young pilot wasted no time helping himself to another. 

"But all jokes aside, these are so good -- Shepard, was it?" The Commander nodded. "And I'm not just sayin' that 'cause I usually eat that cardboard crap the mess sergeant gets us from time to time. My grandma's the best baker I've ever known, so trust me when I say I know what I'm talking about."

"Can't argue against grandma's baking," Shepard agreed easily enough. He snagged a cookie for himself, Jordan only belatedly realizing he'd already worked through three while Shepard had just finished his first, and he watched as the Commander's fingers delicately broke that one in half. 

He has really nice hands, he thought, unbidden, and shook his head. He rested his elbows on the table, cradling his chin in his hands as he observed the other man a moment. He didn't seem much older than Jordan himself -- somewhere in his early to mid-twenties, maybe? Pale-skinned, hints of freckles along a strong nose, with dark, reddish-brown hair that seemed to want to curl at the ends but couldn't thanks to how short it was cut. He looked familiar, but Jordan couldn't quite place him.

"So you new to the Tokyo?"

"I am."

"Hmm…" 

Shepard's eyes met his briefly before looking down again as he carefully took another bite of his cookie. He shifted a little in his seat and Jordan shook himself again. 

"Sorry, I'm staring, aren't I? I just feel like… Maybe I've seen you somewhere before?"

"…possibly."

The atmosphere seemed to change then, a subtle shift from something approaching friendly banter to something more…reserved. Closed off. Shepard's lips were flattened into a thin line, and there was a tension creeping over him as Jordan watched. 

Okay, stumbled on a bad tack. Jordan was just opening his mouth to redirect the conversation back to more comfortable waters when Shepard got to his feet. 

Fuck, he's tall. Probably a good head taller than Jordan was, at least.

"You, um. You can have the rest of these." 

"I --"

"Good night, Flight-Second."

"…good night…" Jordan blinked after him, bemused, until Shepard had slipped out of the door opposite and out of sight. 

It was only then that Jordan remembered he should've saluted, but then...  Shepard hadn't seemed to expect him to.

What an odd duck.

He looked down at the plate of cookies and shrugged, helping himself to another before going to search for a bag to keep them in.