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idk6123 · 11 months

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The Man Behind Mask (Shepard X Male Reader)

Shepard and his crew got themselves a new squad member. His name is Bloodshot, a contractor that takes up dirty jobs, such as assassination, mercenary work, thievery and much more. Shepard barely know anything about him. Not his name, only his workname. His entire body is covered up with a black suit and mask. Besides his work manners, Shepard doesn’t know a single thing about him. Even the Illusive Man seems to know nothing about it.

Because of it, Shepard wants to learn more about his new teammate. Thus, he gets to a small, dark room inside of the space shift where the assassin is located. He barely socializes with anyone else and keep his distance, so he’s far away from anyone.

Once Shepard gets to him, he sees the man, who is checking on his weapons. “Got a second? I want to talk to you.”

Bloodshot looks up. “What do you want?”

“I want to learn more about you. Care to share something?”

“I got nothing to share.” Y/N pulls down his pistol on the table to look back at Shepard. “You know my policy. I kill anyone who knows my identity.”

“I know. You don’t have to remind me.” Shepard remembers how much Miranda and especially Jacob wants to know the truth behind the mask, with the assassin just reminding him with his number 1 rule. “I meant anything else. Surely there is something you can talk about without revealing your identity.”

“Can I? Even the smallest of things can lead to my identity.”

“You’re that paranoid?” Shepard wonders.

“It’s the paranoia that keeps me alive.” The other man responds. “But feel free to ask.”

Shepard begins to think. He doesn’t want to bother his teammate with questions he isn’t going to answer. “Alright… Do you got any hobbies?”

“Privet.”

“Really? Not even that?”

“I can answer my hobbies as Bloodshot, but not as me. That’s okay?”

“Fine.” Shepard prefer to get to know the real man behind the mask, but this is the closest he can get.

“Cool. Well, I like collecting weapons. Study poison. Hacking. Training my biotics. Stuff like that.”

Shepard frowns a bit. “Anything that doesn’t revolve around death?”

The assassin begins to think. “I like to go to the strip club.”

Shepard chuckles. “Really?” He didn’t expected that. “Do you go with your suit…?”

“Yeah. My line of work is stressful. I’m allowed to see naked guys dance. It’s the closest chance I got with scoring with the guys without being in a relationship and hook-ups.”

Shepard feels a little sorry for his friend. He knows Thane doesn’t lives the happiest of lives, but at least he has a son he cares for. It’s unknown Bloodshot has one, but judging by what he knows about him, there is probably no one.

“Tell you want. Next to we hit the Citadel or Omega, we have a guy’s night. Deal?”

Bloodshot is contemplating the idea. Shepard can sense he’s torn. “I think about it. How about this? If you spot me and ask me out, I go if I have the time. I won’t drink, however. You cool with that?”

“Fine by me.”

And so, once they land on Omega, Shepard and his crew did their usual business with a few new missions along the way. After everything is done, Shepard seek his teammate out and once he did, both men went to one of the nightclubs.

Both men are sitting at a red booth inside a heavily crowded strip club. Luckily for both of them, they’re somewhere more isolated. Men and women are watching the almost naked men dancing. At the table they’re sitting, glasses of drinks are on it, though only Shepard is drinking it.

“Finally, some time to relax.” The assassin looks relieved. “The best way after a day of hard work is to see naked men.”

“When you first joined the team, I expected you to be…”

“Less horny?”

“I wouldn’t call it that. More… less appreciative of the male physique.” Shepard corrects him.

Bloodshot chuckles. “You sure can put it that way.” He looks back at the strippers, enjoying the scene. Usually, he’s alone. He never imagines someone else joining him. “Are you enjoying this?”

“This isn’t really my scene to be honest.” Shepard admits. “Sure, I do like to watch, but when it comes to stuff like this, I prefer having a relationship with someone I care for.”

Bloodshot looks back. “Someone like you must’ve flocks of people wanting to be with you. Is it nice to be so adored by so many?”

“Being famous has it’s perks and banes. I don’t think I will never have a normal relationship. It’s like I can walk around and ask someone out without them knowing who I am.”

The masked man hums. “Well, at least you still got clubs like these. You’re free to join me anything.”

Shepard smiles. “I prefer spending my time somewhere else. Still, once in a while won’t be bad.”

Bloodshot grabs his drink and put it up. “To work which now we can��t find a genuine relationship.”

Shepard grabs his drink and taps the glasses together. “Amen.”

It was another mission for the crew, and it all went pretty well all things considered. All objectives were successfully finished, nobody appears to be hurt. At least, that was what Shepard thought, until he found a splatter of blood that was definitely left by one of his men. During the mission, he has been asking his teammates if they’re alright, only to be told they are.

Shepard didn’t thought much of it, and so the mission ended. As he does his usual run around the ship, he thinks about the odd blood splatter, only to realize it may be Bloodshot. He can’t believe himself that he forgot about him. He was definitely there, but after the battle, he disappeared.

So, Shepard goes to his isolated room to knock on the door. “Bloodshot, are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” There is a painful hissing behind the door. “Just a flesh wound.”

“Doesn’t sound like it.” Shepard retorts. “You should have someone to look at it.”

“And let them learn my identity? No.”

Shepard sighs. “Where’s the wound?”

“Upper stomach area, through my back.” The assassin comments with a weak voice. “The bullet didn’t go through…”

Shepard looks worried. “Bloodshot, I insist, let someone look at it. There is no way you can fish the bullet out of your back.” There is no reply. The commander knows he’s torn about it. “Bloodshot, let me look at it. If we don’t take care of it, there is a chance you can’t fight anymore. At best, you won’t fight as well.”

After a couple of seconds, there comes a respond. “Fine. Come in.”

Shepard opens the door to get in the room. There, he sees the assassin, wearing his mask and pants. However, his stomach is revealed. Like Shepard suspected, he’s ripped. There are also blood splatters at his back.

“Congrats. You know what my race is. Feel lucky you didn’t see my face or-”

“You kill me. I know.” Shepard knows how much trust Bloodshot puts on him. His entire entity us unknown, so now that he knows his race it’s one bit of information that may seem little, but for the assassin is major. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

The assassin huffs. “Just make it quick.” Laying on his bed and lay on his stomach, he allows Shepard to do his work. On a table next to the bed, multiple medical tools are placed, some already used by the mercenary himself.

Shepard walks towards it and grabs it. Before he begins to work, he wants to make sure one thing. “This is going to hurt like hell. You took some painkillers?”

“Lots. Can’t feel my body at all.”

Shepard frowns. “How about next time you get hurt, get me and don’t try to do it yourself.”

“I come get you if I want to have a fun time. I don’t consider this fun.”

Shepard rolls his eyes. He grabs a chair and place it next to the masked man. With his equipment near him, Shepard begins the removal of the bullet. Slowly and carefully, Shepard uses a tweezer to go down in the flesh wound, making the assassin hiss out of pain.

“Sorry.” Shepard apologizes. He continues working and manage to grab the bullet. He slowly pulls the bullet out and put it on the side. Afterwards, Shepard put some medi-gel on the wound. “Done. You should still rest.”

“Thanks.” The masked man responds. He looks back at his commander. “I would’ve done it myself if I could.”

“I know.” Shepard responds. He continues to sit besides his friend. “Is there anything else I can do?”

“No. Just don’t tell anyone about my identity. It’s a risk I rather not take.”

“That people will find out?” Shepard questions. “I wasn’t going to say anything to someone.”

Bloodshot hums. “For whatever reason, I can sense you speak the truth. Anyway, you probably have better things to do. I take a day or so off. Speak to you later.”

And so, a day later, Shepard came back to Bloodshot’s quarter. This time though, the assassin is walking around without any issue. It appears he’s all better.

“Someone looks better.”

“I always look good.” The man responds with a chuckle. “Jokes aside, I feel better now. I’m ready to get back on the field.”

“Good. It was a lot harder to not have you at my side.” Shepard says with a smile.

“That sounds like you’re into me. Be careful with your words.”

“Well, maybe I meant it that way.” Shepard gives the assassin a charming smile.

It takes a couple of seconds for him to responds back. “Want to celebrate my recovery? I bought some sweet drinks. And… we can go to your room. It’s way more spacious.”

Shepard shows a smug smirk. “Sounds like a good time.”

And so, the two men are at Shepard’s bedroom, sitting at the couch and drinking the wine. Well, just Shepard. The assassin meanwhile is enjoying viewing the fish.

“I always enjoy watching them. It’s… mesmerizing.”

“Then maybe you should go to my room more often.” Shepard comments.

Bloodshot chuckles. “You really on the flirting today, huh?”

“Sorry. I just can’t help it.” Shepard takes another sip of his drink. “I’ve been thinking, about what we talked about back at the club. The only way to find a genuine relationship in this situation is by someone who understands you’re position.”

“Huh…” This makes the masked man think. “I never really thought about it. I always worked alone before this, so the thought never crossed my mind.” He looks back at Shepard. “I guess it’s worth a try… I… I never been in a relationship. All my experience comes from watching strippers.”

“Then maybe this could be good for us. We barely lived a normal life, and I doubt we can live one after all of this. But that’s alright. As long we have the option, it’s worth trying.”

“Shepard.” Shepard can’t tell his emotion, but the masked man is definitely smiling. “You’re way too sweet. Can we take it slow though? This is all too new to me.”

“Fine by me.”

It’s just before the infiltration of the collector base, with everyone fired up to rescue the rest of the crew. Still, they’re nervous, so everyone is preparing. Shepard though wants to talk to Bloodshot before they go. So, they go to his bedroom to talk.

“You doing alright?”

“I’m fine. Nothing new.” Bloodshot merely shrugs off his worries. “What about you?”

“I could be better to be honest. Still, I’m confident we’re going to win.” Shepard responds.

“Good to hear.” The assassin sits on the couch, with Shepard sitting next to him. His arm is around the masked man. “I’m glad we can talk. There is something I want to get off my chest.”

“What is it?” Shepard knows his partner sounds somewhat nervous.

“I’m… I’m not afraid of death. However, I’m afraid you will die. I can control my own body, but not yours.” Bloodshot admits. “That’s why I want to say something meaningful to you before we go.”

Shepard is curious what’s he going to say. However, he is slightly shocked when the assassin’s hands move to his mask to unzip it. Then, he slowly pulls it off, revealing a young man with shining eyes, alongside beautiful hair.

“My name is Y/N. …Hopefully you can know him instead of Bloodshot.”

Shepard can’t help but smile wide. He can’t but admire the man sitting besides him. “It’s nice to meet Y/N. I surely prefer looking at his handsome face then a masked.”

Y/N laughs. “Glad you think so. Too bad I have to hide it.”

“You don’t have to hide it for me.” Shepard puts his other hand on his partner’s face. “Feel free to show it when we’re alone together.”

“Glad to know that.” Y/N shows a genuine smile. “I don’t even know how long ago someone saw my face. 8 years or something?”

Shepard leans to his partner to gives a kiss. This is the first time to do so, since all Shepard could kiss before is a mask. It feels amazing. He can feel the love Y/N has for him. Shepard pulls back, with both men smiling widely.

“I love you, Y/N. I promise you’re identity will remain anonymous. And I promise I will survive whatever is going to happen.”

#mass effect #commander shepard #male shepard #mass effect x male reader #male shepard x male reader #shepard x male reader

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swordsandshuttles · 2 years

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Rekindling A Hero Chapter Twelve: A Grim Reminder

The orange glow of a holographic alarm clock stung Shepard’s bloodshot eyes. Forcing them to focus, he read the numbers that curled around the designer projection, the slight morphing effect digging into him. 01:00, shift time. The Normandy, like most starships, didn’t use any particular planet for its timekeeping. Outside of larger, more general increments like days, months and years, the self-contained environment along with the subtle time distortion of FTL travel meant keeping to any time zone was pointless. Instead, the ship ran on shifts: 06:00 to 20:00, or six in the morning till eight in the evening were the standard aboard most Alliance ships, with Cerberus being no different. Not every job could be wrapped up in that timeframe, and there were plenty of things that required round-the-clock attention. Anything beyond 00:00, or midnight was considered a graveyard shift. By now most of the crew were in bed, with only a handful manning their stations in flight-ops, engineering or other critical systems. Despite a command position, Shepard had a solid five hours left of bunk time before waking up.

He rolled onto his back, looking up at the ceiling. The subtle sheen of glass was visible against the metal shutter that rested behind it, sealing away the view of space. He hadn’t opened that shutter since his first day aboard. The sight of the cold vacuum still caused the air to catch in his throat. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t joined Tali over by the bridge windows, been close while she said goodbye to that life she’d been building up for so long. Maybe he was just looking for the easy answer. Shepard screwed his eyes shut, feeling the gritty discomfort of dry lids rubbing against them. He dug his thumb and forefinger into the bridge of his nose, stimulating his tear ducts. He didn’t understand. It had only been a few hours ago that he’d been right here, relieved beyond words to have his close friend in his arms again. It had felt like a miracle. After all the death his team had waded through, there she was, unharmed. Even after Tali had woken up, when the pain and the loss had come up like bile, it was a blessing. Hearing her voice again, seeing that familiar glow in her eyes, the two of them had beaten the odds and reunited.

So why did he feel like this?

Shepard struggled to remember the dream that had roused him from sleep. Most of the previous day was there, but it certainly got harder to recall after he’d joined Garrus for a drink. They’d talked for a bit, airing frustrations about Cerberus, Miranda, the shitty situation they found themselves in. He’d chuckled at the turian’s bad jokes, his theories about what exactly was missing from the woman’s love life to make her such a bitch. It’d all been easy stuff to swallow. Once the griping and complaining had run its course, the conversation had mostly been about having Tali back, how things were shaping up to be just like old times. He remembered smiling at the thought of it, two years apart and it was like they’d never left each other’s side. More drinking, more stories. Stupid things no one else would understand. Hearing the thunk of a quarian’s foot against the hull of the mako, with a screaming tirade of insults following close behind. Getting snow in between turian faceplates. Teasing Liara, arguments with Ash, the bottles slowly emptied to the endless chorus of reminiscing. One story led to the next, and by the time the beers ran dry and the memories were exhausted, Garrus had given him a pat on the shoulder and left. Shepard hadn’t realised it at the time, but the turian hadn’t spoken about anything he’d done since the Normandy attack. They must’ve spent two hours together, and still neither had spoken a word about what happened on Omega. What seemed like a comfortable trip down memory lane then, felt considerably less warm now.

Tali never did join them. He felt like an asshole for noticing, but he had. Ever since their goodbyes in engineering, he hadn’t seen her once. It wasn’t fair to focus on that, Shepard knew it wasn’t. What she must have seen down on that desolate planet… it wasn’t the kind of thing a hug can fix. He knew it was ridiculous to expect her to be the same pilgrim girl she was two years ago. It was good enough that things had worked out, that she was alive. And yet, here he was in the middle of the night, feeling that familiar sense of longing. Wanting to hear that chirpy laugh, the sassy comebacks and witty diatribes: The third member of their odd little trio, ever since they’d met on the Citadel. Shepard shifted up, leaning his bare back against the headboard. What the hell was he doing? It had barely been a day.

Looking down past the ruffled quilt, he noticed the sweat stain on the mattress. Try as he might, he couldn’t piece the damn dream together. One minute he’d settled down in bed, finished with his reports. Then he was someplace warm, with dry wind blowing across an open space. There was salt in the air, and the kiss of sunlight on his skin. Everything was calm, still. Thinking about it now, the sensations reminded him of home. Mindoir was colder than Earth, but the air was often dry because of it. Sitting up on top of a pre-fab house, looking out over a geometric field. Crops planted by machines, tended by machines. Most times it’d been early morning, ironically cold and damp: But high up, above everything else. That’s what he’d felt in the dream. That he was somewhere high, looking out over an endless expanse. The few places he’d been on Earth matched one or two facets of the half-recalled landscape, but none fully embodied the scene: Salt water, high cliffs, heat and wind. Whatever his mind had conjured had been pleasant… at first.

But soon enough, things began to shift. The air disappeared, hissing away through cracks in the world. Warmth became searing heat, the rich sunlight blazing white down on him. His skin sizzled under it. There were sounds, voices, things poking and prodding. The harder he tried to picture it, the further from focus it went. Soon only the pain lingered in his mind: A biting, clawing, slicing pain. Skin and muscle opened up, peeled and pulled aside: The feeling of… something, violating the mortal barrier of flesh. Shepard pushed the covers back, trying not to focus on how the dampness continued down to his feet. He tried to remember if this nightmare had cropped up before. The other nights aboard the Normandy had seemed fine. The thought exercise got a momentary tremor out of him. He realised he couldn’t actually recall those first nights. Everything else was there, from tedious run-arounds, to missions and the rare times spent with friends or colleagues. But everything past that, it was just gone. The realisation disconcerted him. More than that, it angered him: Just another reminder of his new, altered state

Painfully aware he wasn’t getting back to sleep anytime soon, Shepard forced himself up and out of bed. He’d have to get a handle on this. His line of work wasn’t too lenient on people who didn’t get proper sleep. He ran a hand across his dry, sore throat. A drink was as good an excuse as any. Bending down to pick up the discarded pieces of his Cerberus uniform, the commander pulled his old clothes back on. Leaving his boots behind, he padded silently on grey socks across the cabin before getting into the elevator. He needed some water, just to soothe the discomfort. A chance to get some air sounded good too, if you could do such a thing aboard a starship. The crew deck was quiet and empty when Shepard stepped out. The door to main quarters was closed, but loud snoring carried past it regardless. Gardner probably.

Turning the corner into the mess hall, he walked over to the fridge. Slipping a cup under the water dispenser, he stole a look over to the sleeper pods that lined the raised tier leading to the forward cannon. Only a few were in use, the glass panels having fogged over to offer the occupants some privacy. The particularly large one belonged to Garrus; at least he was getting some sleep. Shepard’s gaze shifted over to the pod beside it. Occupied as well. He felt both happy and sad, followed by a pang of guilt. It was a childish wish, but he’d hoped to catch Tali out here, sitting alone at the table. Just the two of them, whiling away the wee hours together, like old times. He finished the glass and shook the memory from his mind. He should be grateful she was sleeping… he was.

Setting the cup inside the dishwasher, he decided it was best not to hang around. Heading back toward the elevator, something made the man pause. He turned, looking down past the dividing wall to Miranda’s office. The light on the door was green; she was still up. Tired and sore, Shepard felt frustration already building up inside him. He decided then and there, that enough was enough. No matter her position, she wouldn’t be repeating her earlier behaviour again. He padded towards the door, tapping the hologram. It opened to reveal the dark-haired woman hunched over her desk. This was the second time he’d seen Miranda without the façade she so effortlessly carried at all other times. No makeup, no black and white bodysuit. The comfortable clothes she wore were all black again, no Cerberus logos this time. Her hair was messy, but not like before. Instead of being perfectly coiffed or tied back in a ponytail, it hung wildly around her features. Bedraggled like this, her look brought back chilling memories of the Project Lazarus videos. He’d barely come through the door before her blue eyes were on him.

“Yes?” Miranda asked, perfectly neutral in tone. It only grated him more.

“We need to talk.” Shepard said calmly, but leaving no room for argument.

“Alright.” She nodded to the chair in front of her. “Have a seat.”

“Just stop.” Shepard didn’t mask his annoyance. He leaned his hands on her desk, looking down at her.

“What kind of game are you playing?” He asked, gripping the metal. “Do you get off on undermining my authority, harassing my crew?”

“I’m not the one playing games, Shepard.” She answered him curtly, holding his gaze.

“Then what the hell was that stunt in the CIC? Tali’s barely on her feet an hour, and the first thing you do is insult her?”

“She shouldn’t even be here.”

The comment took Shepard aback.

“Excuse me?”

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