#hey if it's under 1000 it's still a 'short' prompt response right? right??

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

9 for the mass effect children. *chin hands*

9. “It doesn’t matter, I’m not leaving you.”

a third of the way through writing this I thought of an alternative idea for this prompt: the prompt being repeated twice, first between Zofia and Elliot as they go together through the burning Normandy to rescue Joker and then end up both dying together, and then between Garrus and Solo either when Solo follows when Garrus runs off to Omega, or after Garrus’ squad is all killed and he tries to tell Solo to leave before Garrus can get him killed too.

and I like those ideas so I’m putting it out there for everyone’s consideration and suffering, but I’m pretty fond of what I came up with first.

"I almost wish that the Illusive Man hadn't tried to rebuild the Normandy's exact specs," Zofia says. It's the most irrelevant comment that Elliot has heard her make since they were revived, and Garrus and Solo as well stop and turn to listen to her. "Because I know that ship was destroyed, I watched it burn up before I died, and then I'm walking around a bridge set up exactly the same and I feel like some sort of fucking ghost."

"I mean, to the two of us, you look like ghosts, too," Solo says. 

"The glowing probably doesn't help," Elliot says. He doesn't know if he's been imagining it, looking in the mirror, but he thinks the shape of his scars might be changing, shrinking. He should ask Zofia if she's noticed that as well.

"Not particularly, no," Garrus says. 

"And you know what's worst?" Zofia asks as she taps in the code to open the door to the captains' quarters. It's the one part of the ship that Elliot really notices the change, because the original Normandy obviously wasn't designed for two captains. Now they have a small shared sitting room, with a fishtank, before it branches into each of their own quarters. "The fucking AI."

"Hello, EDI," Elliot says to the glowing orb that marks one of EDI's terminals. Neither Zofia nor Joker has been open to the idea of an AI wired through the ship, so Elliot has tried to at least be polite to her, to make up for it.

"Illusive Man, if you're listening, go fuck yourself," Zofia calls. She collapses onto the couch like she has melted. "I feel like there's nowhere on this ship that we can talk. Fucking Cerberus." She sits up a little more, leaning on the arm, squishing herself over so that Elliot can sit next to her, and Solo next to him.

"For whatever it's worth," Solo says, "Cerberus did some good. They brought you back." His shoulder is leaning against Elliot's and the familiar weight is comforting. 

"So they can kill us again," Zofia says. She looks at Solo and then over to Garrus. "Or throw us through the Omega 4 Relay. Same difference."

No one has ever come back through the Omega 4 Relay, and the Illusive Man holds their leashes like a noose, but for however long they have until then, to have a second lease on life - to be here, with Solo, with Zofia, with Garrus - this one moment here with the four of them again -

And then Elliot thinks of the crushing weight of the memory of being sucked into space, no more breath in his lungs and his chest tight and the cold and the worst was seeing Zofia falling after him, trying to reach for her like he could push her back. He didn't want to die alone but he thinks watching his cousin die with him was worse. And he thinks of the moment the missile made impact and Garrus fell like a corpse, he remembers the moment his own heart stopped. He pictures Zofia with blue turian blood on her armor and her face as the medbay door slid shut with Garrus inside and her out, her eyes gone empty and if there was ever a moment when Elliot thought that she looked like a ghost, it was then.

He died with Zofia at his side once; he can do it again. But to bring Garrus into it - to bring Solo, next to him now like the way they always were, into the abyss - into Hell, Zofia said, when she had explained her thoughts to him, planned the conversation that now she seems to be leading into.

"We're dead walking on borrowed time and Cerberus has us by the throat but you don't have to," Zofia says. She looks at Elliot like she's waiting for him to speak and he wonders what his face looks like, then, striken by memories of dying and the thought of it again. "Damn whatever the Illusive Man said about needing Archangel for this mission - Solo, you aren't even a soldier, you didn't have to stay with us, you don't have to come with us, either of you, on a goddamned suicide run."

Garrus laughs, a dark sound, and then he winces and moves a hand toward the injured side of his face. "I'm offended that you say you don't need me," he says.

"I need you to not die at the Illusive fucking Man's word, is what I need," Zofia snaps. Her fingers are curled tight and digging into her leg. "Fucker thinks he's got the Shepards on puppet strings and maybe he's right but he sure as hell doesn't have to get you."

Her complaints about the ship, about a Cerberus AI always listening, seem suddenly relevant now, telling one of the dossiers that the Illusive Man so carefully selected to run, run away, get out of here while you can.

"I would have died if you two hadn't showed up," Garrus says, nodding at Elliot, but his eyes are still fixed only on Zofia. "What was it you said? 'Dead walking on borrowed time'? So am I."

Zofia is quiet. Elliot thinks of the moment the missile made impact and Garrus fell like a corpse, and Zofia screamed and Elliot's heart stopped but he thinks that was the sound of Zofia's breaking.

"Solo," Elliot says, and he doesn't know what to say that Zofia didn't, how to say that it's the most comfortable thing at the world to have Solo at his side and that he doesn't want him to leave but more than that he doesn't want him to die. How does he apologize for dying and leaving Solo, only to now tell him to leave so that Elliot can die again? 

"No," Solo says. "Don't bother. It doesn't matter, I'm not leaving you."

And Elliot can't explain how the words can make his heart leap but constrict with terror at the same time.

"You stubborn bastards," Zofia says.

[nincompoopydoo]

If you take requests for Jack Thompson / reader still, could you please write one where the reader is one of Peggy's friends who happens to be a very flirty aviatrix and knows allllll about Jack from what Peggy's told her so he tries to convince her otherwise?? Lots of flustered Jack cause he's a baby boy and I love him so much okay thank :))) if you dont write it no worries!! Dont stress yourself out boo 😘

CALL ME TRIXIE

PAIRING: Jack Thompson x reader

WORD COUNT: 1805

A/N: I’m so sorry I took so long to write this! As you can see I got a little too inspired and it’s one of the rare times my “one shots” exceeds the 1000 word norm. I absolutely love this concept, so thank you nonnie! I hope I’ve done it a little justice.

PROMPT:

“Nice slap.”

“Kinda hurt”

“Want me to kiss it better?”

WARNING: Like one swear word

MASTERLIST

The corridor is small, dimly lit and sketchy looking. A corridor that went on forever. The facility was an underground base used during the war; he could tell by its heavy security, thick steel doors with locks that were purely meant to keep anything and everything out. It was surely once occupied by military intelligence. The narrow corridors remind him of his time at the navy, respectfully greeting senior officers through passages similar to this. 

Forcefully shoving his navy days to the back of his mind, Jack shifts his gaze towards Peggy momentarily, striding by her side; she keeps her head forward, chin up, heels clicking with confidence. “Who’s the pilot?” he draws out coyly. Her gaze finally lands on his, an eyebrow raised.. “You’ll see her in a while.”

Her? Jack was certainly not expecting that. 

What seemed to be a hundred yard walk in, passing doorway after doorway, the two agents finally met an entrance, huge steel doors but bigger than the ones before, leading towards a somewhat wider space. He can tell it’s an aircraft hangar,  dimly lit, sketchy and there’s a damp scent coursing through the air. It sends nerves throughout his body, unusual to Jack. 

The air began to feel tense and Peggy seems to sense this, turning to him once more with an assuring look. Jack merely nods; for the first time, he wants to put his full trust on her. There was an unspoken agreement between the two, an understanding that it was only possible for this mission to turn out successful if they worked in tandem. As a team.

Moving through the steel doors, the pair emerged into a vast aircraft hangar. The structure was empty, clearly abandoned after the end of the war; like a hollowed out steel turtle shell. In the far corner, the sight of a single magnificent flying machine, an ivory jet glowing in all of its glory. He hasn’t seen one in awhile. 

By the nose of the aircraft, stood a figure, a lady in particular. You wore a leather jacket, flight helmet in hand as you waved blissfully. Your smile was particularly warm under the fluorescent glow of the hangar’s interior. Bright-eyed lady with a pretty smile, you were certainly something else.

“Hiya, Pegs.” your voice rang and echoed through the hollows of the empty hangar, once they neared the fly girl. Peggy grins at you, saying your name in a wistful manner; it’s apparent the two of you were close. You hadn’t seen each other since VE day. 

Wanting to desperately bring your dear friend into an embrace, you push that thought away for the sake of professionalism. Taking notice of the blonde man who was lurking just a little behind your best friend, you recognize him as Agent Jack Thompson. A cocky and ignorant man he was. His gaze was stoic yet it shone with curiosity and suspicion.

“So, this is the famous Jack Thompson.” 

“He sure is.”

Jack eyes the two women as he began to feel a little smaller by the second under your lingering shameless gaze. He arched a brow as he watched the growing smirk upon your lips.

“Well, at least the view is nice,” you say slyly with bright eyes still on him and his knees nearly gave out there and then. 

Peggy lets out a strangled short laugh, starting him by your sudden forwardness; it sends his cheeks into a rosy shade of red. Sure, Jack has met women who were forward when flirting yet you were so much more different than any woman he’d ever met. He coughs a little, clearing his throat. He was certainly caught off-guard. He really doesn’t know why you’re making him feel this way. 

As you watched him regain his composure, you reached out your free hand. “The name’s Y/N but you can call me Trixie. The fly boys used to call me just that.”

Jack merely cocks an eyebrow, eyes shifting between your beaming face and your outstretched hand before finally taking yours in his. Your grip was firm, palm rough and the mere feeling of your touch does something to him. Jack admits he has a soft spot for pretty women like you; confident, tough and a little disheveled and to think you were going to accompany him on this mission alone, you might as well be the death of him. 

~

“You nearly got us killed,” you hear him say exasperatedly and you want to strangle him. He was certainly not helping with the situation. “Well, at least we're alive aren’t we?” you snapped back with annoyance, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you lifted the cowling of the plane, fully expecting the sight of a smoked and wrecked engine. To which you were unfortunately right; clouds of smoke began to arise from the whirring engine, filling your lungs. Quick coughs began to erupt, escaping from your lips as you stumbled back in your step, turning towards Jack who shot you a bewildered and slightly mortified look. 

Cute, but mostly annoyingly charming.

“Looks like the engine’s busted,” you mumble under your breath, poking your closer to the engine with furrowed eyebrows. This was certainly not the first time the jet had broken down since the war yet it had seen better days. It doesn’t help that the two of you are alone, stranded in an empty field in Wyoming. Your eyes flickered momentarily towards the trail of flattened grass from the hurried landing as the plane skidded across the field, heart sinking at the thought of the possibility of not being able to fly legally any longer once the SSR finds out about this accident. Then, you hear Jack nearing you, voice raised and you want to roll your eyes. “Busted? Jesus fucking Christ, I did not sign up for this. We’re stuck-”

“Hey, sweetcheeks,” you snapped, eyes burning at him in sheer annoyance. They were pretty. You’re nearing him now, cheeks stained with black smudges. You smell nice, and smoky. “Neither did I. So, quit whining and help me get a screwdriver from the cockpit, would ya?” you said crisply and Jack gulps, stomach flipping in a somewhat pleasant way. And his cheeks are turning crimson when he realizes that you just called him sweetcheeks; his mother used to call him that. He watches you cock an eyebrow, hands now on your hips. Right, he hasn’t said anything yet. “You’re kind of scary, you know?”

Your glare softens at his response and before you know it, a sudden and welcome peal of laughter erupts from you, the widest smile upon your lips. He finds himself naturally drawn to your smile, now beaming down at you. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” you say smoothly, reaching out to nudge him with your fisted hand. “But I really do need you to get that screwdriver while I take care of this baby’s engine,” You winked, wiping your forehand against the smudge on your right cheek and he feels his heart stutter. Jack feels like a schoolboy and he isn’t sure what to make out of it.

Yet, you’re bright and beautiful and he really doesn’t mind it.

~

With a turn of the ignition, the whirring sound of the ivory jet beginning to come alive echoes through the green fields; a painful sound to your ears as the engine fails to start after three consecutive hours of poking at a hunk of mess and metal. With a sigh, you climbed out of the cockpit.

“Maybe, it needs a kick for a head start,” you hear Jack say sheepishly from behind. You turned to him quizzically, an eyebrow raised. “Kick?” 

He shrugged, rather nonchalantly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “More of a slap.”

A dry laugh escapes your lips as you begin to shake your head in denial. “Uh, I don’t think so, sweetie. No one’s going to be kicking or slapping this baby here- HEY!” you crowed at the sudden sight of Jack sprinting towards the nose of the plane, palms smacked hard against the cowling and your heart nearly shatters.

Then, you hear the lovely whirring sound of the engine.

You stare at the jet for a moment, hands on hips with a hint of a smile upon your lips. You never knew that would work.

“Nice slap,” you breathed, sheer relief coursing through your body. Your gaze now on him as you watch him busily caress his right palm. “Kinda hurt,” there’s a slight scowl on his lips, your grin widens. “Want me to kiss it better?” wide eyes snapped up to yours, cheeks burning red and clearly flustered. You want to laugh. 

After a few moments of Jack trying to keep a steady breath whilst figuring out what to do with his hands, he finally decides to shove them in his pockets once more. He clears his throat, expression neutral yet you caught a hint of a small smile. ”Your welcome.”

It was your turn to blush.

~

Wind in your hair, you smile at the sight of Peggy making her towards you. She waves as you try to smooth down your now tousled hair. “So, I’m assuming he was somewhat tolerable since he is in fact very much alive,” the woman says calmly, a smile playing upon her lips. You let out a small chuckle, clutching your leather flying helmet tighter towards your chest. “He wasn’t so bad,” you mutter, eyes skirting across the expense of the abandoned hangar where a scatter of SSR agents stood by their Fords. You see Jack, golden hair shimmering in the low light as the sun began to set, hands in his pockets as he spoke to another agent with an elbow crutch. You’re assuming that was Daniel Sousa, the one Peggy talked about often enough for you to know she was downright in love with the man yet refuses to admit it. 

His blue eyes met your gaze as soon as he turned around, hand in the air as he waved with a smile so genuine you were afraid you’d never see that from a man like him. Jack was so serious for the majority of the time you’d spent with him yet his usual cold demeanor was no were to be seen at that very moment. You hesitantly wave back, flashing a small smile. Despite the distance, you’d managed to catch on the wink he’d sent you before turning on his heel as Jack casually walked away. Peggy on the other hand has an eyebrow raised as her gaze shifts between her colleague and her best friend. The gesture was enough to send your cheeks into a rosy shade of red. For the first time in a long time, your heart leaps in a way you never thought it would.