#nerdyholler

[nerdierholler]

If anyone is using storygraph and wants to add me, I'm nerdyholler on there.

[coolfuffles]

Honestly, whatever happens today, I'm so glad that I've got Giant Chat tonight. I literally live for Wednesdays and I'm p sad that I'm going to miss next week.

[kestrelsansjesses]

For the intimacy prompts: ♖: Having their hair washed by the other, Shakarian or Kandros x Ryder, your choice.

[[Because my own mind is trash, my immediate thought was a post ME3 fic, so I could have that much more pain in there.]]

“Garrus, I can wash my own hair.” Shepard pushed herself up from the wheelchair where she was still spending at least several hours a day, legs wobbling beneath her. No. She could do this. She could stand and walk the few steps it would take to get to the Normandy’s shower, just like she could somehow convince her bruised and broken body to let her remove her own clothing, just like she could convince a broken hand and several broken fingers to lather her hair and let it wash out the drain. The Normandy. Home. She was home, not in the hospital, and she wanted to feel human again.  

Her left leg buckled and Shepard started to go down, Garrus catching her elbow and propping her up, not saying anything, just being there, something to lean against. He was like a wall, but warmer, more comfortable. “Shepard.” A single word to break the silence of her shaking steps, but that was all he needed.  

Garrus undressed her slowly, movements careful and not sensual. “I’m not going to break,” Shepard said irritably, though she had to secretly confess to herself that it was a relief that his hands didn’t brush her numerous cuts and wounds with too much force. It helped that she was not yet at the point where she could wear most normal clothes, relying on a tunic someone had helpfully sewn the N7 insignia onto, as if this could make her feel better.  

He undressed himself next, more out of practicality than for anything else; there was no need for Garrus to get his clothing completely soaked in the process. Shaking off all his offers of help, Shepard walked herself to her private bathroom, leaning against the wall when she had finally got there, flicking on the water as hot as it would go and hissing as it stung every inch of her body even as it relaxed her muscles. One day she wouldn’t be in pain, but the road to recovery was still almost endless; she couldn’t see where it might take her. Chakwas had wanted to put a seat and a bar in the shower, but Shepard had stopped the doctor there. There were already so many reminders of what that last battle had done to her battered body. She didn’t need one more, even if it meant that every shower was a physically taxing experience. 

Garrus came in behind her silently, letting the water hit him and sighing slightly. “Too hot for you?” she teased, trying to disguise how much she was relying on the tiled wall to hold herself up.  

“Hardly, Shepard. Here.” He took the shampoo, reaching around her easily. It was a bottle Shepard hadn’t seen before- someone had been into her space, tried to make things comfortable, and she strongly suspected the culprit was standing right behind her. A scent reminiscent of the sea filled the small space- something salty, underlaid with something sweeter. It reminded her, with an unexpected pang, of Thane and Mordin, the people she’d lost so recently.  

“Can I?” The shampoo pooled awkwardly in Garrus’ hand, and Shepard nodded, stepping slightly out of the spray so he could gently lather her hair, his claws providing an unexpected scalp massage as he worked it through, not getting ideal coverage but at least trying his best. She found herself relaxing even more, leaning slightly against Garrus.  

Even though she was still standing, Shepard was still so tired. They told her that was part of recovery- resting and sleeping were the best thing she could do for her body, but also the hardest thing for her to do. Something about sitting still felt so unnatural, but you could only come back from the dead so many times before you realized listening to your ship’s doctor might be the best course of action. “You’re pretty bad at this, Garrus,” she said, water punctuating her words.  

He grunted in affirmation, helping her rinse out her hair, supporting her as the water rolled down her face, cleansing as anything could have ever been. Her bandages would have to be changed after this, an act of intimacy with which they were both already far too familiar.  

“Shepard, you want to go on that vacation after this? You, me, the beach, those drinks with little umbrellas in them.”  

“I don’t think my body is swimsuit ready, Garrus.” It might never be. She was lucky she could even walk, but gratitude was hard to find.  

“Looks pretty good to me, Shepard.” He teased the back of her neck with a kiss to punctuate her point and she swatted at him, too tired to do much else but lean into him again. If she never had to get out of the shower again, that would be great.  

Rinse, lather, repeat. If Garrus had learned one thing from watching too many vids, it was that. The shampoo was cool on the top of her head, a fresh wash of the sea filling their small space again. “To hell with it. We both deserve a vacation. You find a planet and I’m there.” His hands were playing with her hair still, trying to braid it but not doing much other than tangle it hopelessly. It was good he couldn’t see the smile she was hiding incredibly poorly.  

“I already have a place in mind. Miles of white sand and not a single Reaper in sight.” Now Shepard turned to look at Garrus, putting her arms around him gratefully.  

“What would I do without you, Garrus?” He had been with her since she first woke up, was with her still for every part of recovery. People in her life came and went, but Garrus stayed, her only constant.  

“Have really dirty hair, Shepard.” 

[littlewatty]

Here you go. ♗: One falling asleep with their head in the other's lap.

I’ve been wanting to do this one for ages. You finally gave me an excuse to! :D large pic to go along with it, courtesy of @mmmerchedesi. Also tagging @vorchagirl because she was eager to see this one completed!

AO3 link

If there was one thing that Kadara did better than any other planet in Heleus, it was its sunsets. Eos had been a contender with its radiation soaked atmosphere, but since the vault had cleared the skies, the colors had been tamed. Here, though, there was no radiation to tint the clouds or color the sky any shade of red, yellow, purple, or somewhere in between. It was the most beautiful thing in Andromeda. Well… almost.

“S’ Reyes…” Kitt slurred as she leaned heavily against his side, watching the Kadaran sunset from the rooftops at his side. “I still don’t know much of anything ‘bout you… but’m pretty sure you know everything about me… Keepin’ secrets?”

The comment made a laugh stutter out of him. There was a tightness in his chest that he wanted to ignore, the pain of so many truths wanting to burst out and spill all, and the agony of the chains that held them in place. Now was not the time for her to know. The kiss they had shared nearly unlocked every encrypted thought, but he was not ready. Nor was she. “Everybody has secrets, Ryder. Even you.”

“Psshhh.” The whiskey was apparently going to her head much faster than his own. She’d kill him for calling her a lightweight later. “Doubt it!”

“Alright, Ryder...” he swirled the mostly empty bottle of Mount Milgrom around before pulling a hit. “How about we play a game. You tell me things about yourself, and I’ll stop you if it’s something I haven't heard. In return, I’ll tell you some things about my life before the Initiative.” A cheap trick to play on a poor drunk woman, but he was also curious. There were only so many things in personnel files.

Kitt stole back the bottle to take her own drink, slamming it firm down on the shipping crate they were seated on. “Deal. I got arrested by C-Sec about a dozen times before my family left to live with Mom on Earth.” Silence. “I knew Garrus Vakarian! Briefly… Really? Argh. I always loved archaeology, but Dad always corrected me to say I liked ‘paleontology’ until I actually got into real archaeology. Seriously?!” The frown on her lips worked its way up her face, wrinkling her nose and creasing her eyebrows. “How d’you know this stuff?”

“As you are always so keen to remind me, gathering information is what I do best, Ryder. Go on, keep going.”

With a loud groan, she pulled off her jacket and threw it into a pile between them. Another shot of whiskey and she seemed raring to go again. “My Dad created SAM behind the Alliance’s back and it got him disbarred--”

“That’s cheating, Ryder. And, yes, I already knew that.” Reyes almost laughed when she bounced in frustration. That only seemed to make her more frustrated, and she was talking faster, even as her cheeks grew redder from the alcohol.

A yawn tried to fight its way past her words, but she stifled it down. “I crashed the Nomad the first time I used it because I mixed the pedals up. My middle name is Rachel. I picked a military outpost even though I knew it was a mistake, almost got shot on Aya for using my scanner, I insulted the Archon - twice. Drunkenly tried to kiss Keri. I lied to my brother about Dad being dead and Habitat 7.”

Reyes couldn’t help but chuckle. “Ryder. All of that is in official Nexus documentation - except that part about the reporter. That… I heard about through other channels.”

“Argh!! Uuuhm, I was forced out of my platoon and lost all my friends because of the Initiative. I was born a biotic but my brother wasn’t. I’m a minute older than him. I almost punched Cora. Also almost punched Peebee. Then I had sex with her - bad idea. Uuuuhhmmm?” Kitt rubbed her nose trying to think, while he simply watched, eyes glowing with amusement. All she really had to say was one personal thing from back before the Initiative, but she wasn’t thinking about it, or she didn’t want to. Something they maybe shared in common. Or, perhaps, it was that haze of sleep in her eyes that was slowing her down.

“Come on, Ryder, surely you can do better?” he teased.

She slumped against his shoulder, taking a long drink before handing the bottle back to him, face flushed and eyelids heavy. “I dunno anymore…” she mumbled. “You know everything…”

“Ha ha, if only it were so easy as that. It would make my work so much simpler. Are you sure you’ve tried everything, Ryder?” She drearily nodded her head. Apparently she was a sleepy drunk. When she started to slouch her weight on him even more, it was easy enough to guide her head down to rest in his lap. Kitt voiced no complaints.

“Well...” she drolled, closing her eyes, “there is this one thing.”

“Yes?”

“I thought you were cute the first time I saw you,” she hummed her words, a smile gracing her lips. “Very kissable.”

Those words lingered in his ears just long enough to make a heat rise in his chest; even his face felt warmer than usual. This woman, a Pathfinder no less, allied with the Initiative that betrayed all the exiles on Kadara, was worming her way into his body and mind.

That kiss in the storage room was supposed to be innocent, no ulterior motives beyond the distraction it provided, and yet… Reyes couldn’t help himself when she silenced all his fears about this new life in Andromeda. You’re someone to me , she had said. All he had ever wanted to be was someone that mattered, someone that would make a difference, someone people would look up to and be proud to know. It seemed he had become that person unknowingly because of her. For her.

“Well, that is a surprise, Ryder.” He laughed quietly to himself, but found no response followed his. Glancing down it became plainly obvious as to why. “If you fall asleep now, Ryder, you won’t learn any of my deep dark secrets.” Again, nothing. She was out like a light. Reyes tried not to laugh in case it might wake her up. This might be the only time he would see her in such a pleasantly serene state. All the stress he could normally see on her shoulders and in her features just melted away as she slept there.

As time passed, the bright orange star dipped lower on the horizon, coloring the sky in a broad spectrum. Perhaps one of the most beautiful sunset’s Reyes has seen since finding himself on Kadara. It had been a long time since he had spent any prolonged time in the Port proper to see a sunset like this one. The landing pad in the slums didn’t offer this nice of a view.

Moments like this made everything he was doing worth it in the end. At least, he hoped. There was no guarantee she could forgive him for the secrets he kept. The only thing he had was hope - something that he hadn’t felt since the uprising. And it was all because of one Kitt Ryder. Maybe that tugging in his chest was more than he wanted to believe it was. Time would tell. For now, he had her, and that would be all that mattered until the Charlatan was needed again.

[animarosa]

Ryder/Jaal: 19. “You’re beautiful/handsome, and I’m not the only one that thinks that.” Your pick on who is getting the compliment.

Note: As always, thanks for the prompt! I enjoy writing these two ~

Summary: After overhearing angaran women speak of their attraction to Jaal, Sara Ariadne begins having feelings of inadequacy regarding her relationship with the Resistance lieutenant.  

Sara tapped her fingers to the rhythm of the song she was listening to, though she wasn’t paying much attention to it. With a sigh, she kept staring at the terminal screen, her current report half-finished. It seemed her mind was set on distracting her with the conversation she overheard earlier from a group of gossiping angaran ladies. Well, not gossiping, but sharing their admiration for Jaal. Or rather, their obvious attraction to him…and what a waste it was that he’d fallen for an ‘alien’. Sara was only thankful she had been wearing her hoodie over her head, hiding the embarrassment in her features when she hurried away earlier.

She knew better than to let something so insignificant bother her but the conversation resurfaced feelings of inadequacy in her. It was obvious she and Jaal were genetically incompatible and, while they hadn’t yet talked about having a family in the future, she thought she was robbing him of the opportunity to have a big angaran family of his own flesh and blood.

With a stifled groan and quick ruffling of her own hair, she chastised herself and tried to distract herself by singing along to the tune blaring from her speakers instead.

“Southern skies, have you ever noticed southern skies…Southern skies, it’s precious beauty…” she sang and hummed softly, fingers finally tapping the keyboard to the beat of the song as she continued her report.

Of course, this was the moment she would be interrupted by the one person she had been thinking about not a moment ago. Jaal casually walked into her room, smiling widely when he caught her singing and moving her shoulders slightly side to side in tune. Ever the sucker for procrastinating, Sara didn’t protest when Jaal stood before her and held out his hand. Her singing was only briefly interrupted by a giggle as she took his hand.

Pulling her to her feet, Jaal danced as best he could to the song, mostly following her lead. They danced, held each other close, and laughed when they tripped over each other until the song ended and it was followed by a faster, upbeat tune.

“I don’t think I can dance to that one,” Jaal chuckled, leaning down to her level and pressing his forehead to hers softly.

“If Drack can dance to it, so can you,” Sara laughed and snorted.

For a moment she was still, enjoying his closeness, her hands resting idly on his shoulders, reveling in his large hands on her hips, pulling her close. As she looked into his beautiful eyes, the thoughts she had been trying to block out came back to the front of her mind. It showed in her features, brow shifting with concern, lips downturning, because Jaal quickly pulled back slightly to look to her with worry.

“My darling, what’s wrong?” he asked in earnest, his hands coming up to cup her cheeks gently.

Sara bit her lower lip, avoiding his gaze momentarily when she took his hands in hers. Pulling them down in front of her chest, she gave them a firm squeeze when she asked, “Jaal…Are you…really, really happy with me? Do you feel there’s anything...missing?”

“Ari,” he used her nickname, his eyes widening in shock as if he’d been slapped across the face. “Of course! How could I not be? Have I…” his gaze shifted, as if searching his thoughts, brow furrowing with worry. “Have I not shown it enough? Is there something about your culture that I am missing? I could-”

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong!” she hurriedly reassured him, suddenly feeling guilty for distressing him like this.

Tilting his head slightly, worry dissipating mildly, he inquired, “Then why do you ask me this my dearest?”

“Oh Jaal…It’s just…You’re handsome, wonderful—” she smiled softly, enamoured by the way his cheeks and cowl flushed a darker shade of purple. Just as her smile came, it was gone, gaze downcast as she bit on her lower lip anxiously. “—and I’m not the only one that thinks that,” Sara went on and took a deep breath. “I heard some angaran ladies speaking about you…I bet you have more admirers and–Point I’m trying to make, Jaal, is…well, I’m not angaran, obviously, I’m an alien and–” Releasing his hands, she made a vague gesture at nothing in particular, mostly she waved her hands all around herself.  “I’ll never be able to give you what an angaran woman can, and…well–”

“Ariadne, darling, please,” Jaal was quick to interrupt her then, starting to understand where this uncertainty stemmed from. “I love you for who you are, your differences from my species included.” Offering one of his gentle, warm smiles, he took her hands in his again, lifting them to his lips to kiss her knuckles.

“But…But we’re not biologically compatible,” she tried to argue, mostly giving into her self-doubt. Yet, how could she let these doubts emerge when he praised her on a daily basis like this? “I know we haven’t talked about this much but…Doesn’t this concern you just a bit? I know how important families are to your people, I just feel…like I’m robbing you of your own…biological children…I feel selfish, I love you so, so much and…” Sara stumbled over her own words, mouth opening and closing wordlessly. Instead she opted to just slump forward against his chest and buried her face in his rofjinn, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“My darling, my dearest, owner of my heart.” Soothingly he drew an arm around her shoulders, bringing his other hand to caress her hair, lightly tracing the copper brown roots down to the fading blue-lilac hair dye. “Let me ask you the same then. Does it concern you?”

“I…No,” she admitted, resting her chin against his chest and stared up at his loving gaze. Of course, she hadn’t considered that this implied she wouldn’t have biological children with him either. “Even if it’s only ever just the two of us, I’d be just as immensely happy as I am with you now,” a smile tugged at the corners of her lips once more, unable to contain herself at the thought of spending the rest of her life with Jaal.

“There is your answer,” Jaal grinned widely at that, leaning his head down to kiss her forehead. “And if we ever wanted a family, there are other ways. My people value families, Ariadne, but that doesn’t mean it’s limited to biological children.”

“I should have probablyasked you sooner,” she laughed. Standing on her toes, she pressed a quick chaste kiss to his chin. “Sorry, I just…let bad thoughts get to me sometimes, love.”

“Worry not. I am glad we talked about it though, thank you for sharing your worries with me, darling,” he declared. Gently grasping the back of her head, fingers threaded through her soft hair, he tugged her towards him as he leaned down meeting her lips in a soft, langid kiss.

Sara hummed happily against his lips, bringing her hands up around his neck, fingers softly tracing the grooves between his crests. The groan she elicited from him had her heart fluttering when he deepened the kiss in turn, his rougher tongue tracing her lower lip before she allowed him access into her mouth, meeting him halfway with her softer one. The familiar tingling of his bioelectricity was quickly egging her on, goosebumps running all over her skin. Just as she was really starting to get into it, sucking in his lower lip and lightly nipping, he pulled back gently, staring at her through hooded eyes as a whimper escaped her from the loss of contact.

Clearing his throat, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear when he said, “Now…if I saw correctly, I believe I interrupted you writing a report.”

“Oh no, I was singing,” Sara was quick to reply, any excuse to keep him close to her, to keep going, anything but going back to her duty.

“While writing a report,” Jaal didn’t miss a beat as he gently pulled her arms from around his waist, kissing them once again. Just like that, he began pulling her back to her desk.

“Jaaaaaal,” she whined, pulling back herself, trying to get out of his grip. “I’ll do it later, just-”

“Sara, you should finish it,” he insisted, refusing to let go, the terminal screen with the unfinished report staring (menacingly) at her from behind him.

“Don’t you want to kiss me a lot instead?” she asked with a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows. “Come on, you kissed me first! You can’t tease me like that!

“Take it as a promise for later my temptress,” he did his best to wink as she taught him. “Besides…You always complain when you leave reports for the last minute, so…”

“Sara, I agree with Jaal. You should finish that report,” SAM spoke then, his orb flaring on her desk. “Lest you risk procrastinating on it so much that you regret it later.”

Sara stopped protesting then, pouting petulantly and leering at both Jaal and SAM. Giving up her fight, she allowed Jaal to pull her back to her chair, on which she unceremoniously flopped down on, rolling back until she hit the edge of her desk. “…I hate both of you…”

“I love you my darling,” Jaal chuckled, quite used to her idioms by now, knowing she didn’t literally hate him, it was just playful banter. Except she was annoyed. “If you finish your report soon…well, I’ll go take a shower first and I’ll come back to check on you. It’ll be up to you how soon I get to deliver further on that kiss we started on,” Jaal chuckled and kissed her cheek before stepping away.

Waving at her from the door and winking (again!), he left only when she waved back, her pout unrelenting. Now she was really regretting showing him about winking suggestively.

[vorchagirl]

Writing prompt: Reyes x Sirius - #25. Exchanging Letters

Sirius,

I thought for a long time about what to say in this message, whether to send it, whether it was better to call you in person, whether you would even talk to me. In the end, my doubts got the better of me. I always thought I was a brave man, capable of facing my fears, but I know now that I am a coward. Rather than face another rejection, I send this email.

I am sorry.

For hiding the truth, for the deception, and for hiding things from you. Yes, for lying. I never meant to do you harm, only to keep harm from you. My life on Kadara, the rumours about The Charlatan, about me ... I wanted to keep you apart from all that. Nothing more. Perhaps it was selfish of me to think I could keep you separate from all that. Greedy of me. But the thought of losing you made me desperate. You must believe me that. Everything I felt for you, everything between us; that was real. We were real.

I will not beg you to come back, you deserve better than pleading and begging. Instead I will just ask for you to believe me, and ask that you believe in us.

I am still here my Bluebird,

Waiting for my spring.

- Reyes

It took Reyes three days to mentally pen the letter he wanted to send Sirius. He weighed each phrase, considered each word, then tasted the email as a chef would a soup. He wanted, no, needed, Sirius to understand how much he regretted hurting her. How sorry he was. How desperately he wanted her to come home.

Home.

Did she even consider Kadara home? Had she ever? Would she again?

He hoped so.

He needed to believe so.

Reyes wrote the letter and sent it before he could get cold feet, then busied himself with work and pretended not to wait for her reply.

[omegastation]

nerdyholler replied to your post “Have you seen the article that claims Bioware is essentially putting...”

I'm guess it's a reference to this http://kotaku.com/sources-bioware-montreal-downsized-mass-effect-put-on-1795100285

Well fuck... I don’t know how to react to this. 

[lilithhawthorne]

For the tea asks: Chai, Flowering Tea, and Gunpowder

Chai:  Where do you want to travel next?

Ireland! I’ve always wanted to visit, though I’m not sure if I would prefer to stay in a city or travel along the countryside, so I need to plan a lot of time to figure out which I like best. ;)

Flowering: What is a movie you can always watch? 

Barbarella with Jane Fonda is timeless and I never get tired of watching it. I feel like every time I do it, I discover something new to love about it.

Gunpowder:  If you had the chance: would you go to space?

I want to say yes… but I know that as soon as I got in a ship or woke up in space, I would have a panic attack and want to leave. It’s just so big and empty and cold. While I do prefer cold weather, I think that might be a little too cold for me. Maybe once we get to the point where space travel is more than just living in a tube of metal with weird underwear I wouldn’t mind.

[cactuarkitty]

@sabriel Oh that’s okay! :) I’m so glad you’re enjoying it though. ^^

I can whistle :D and also I can do that tongue rolling thing hehe. Awww! My Mum can’t whistle either. Kinda funny when she tries lol.

@nerdyholler Oh yay!! So happy you have been having fun. :D You’re welcome!

@eb-n-flo Aww that’s so nice of you to say. :)

@erubadhriell Me too! It’s been so fun. The fics are really cute. I want to try make more gifs, and also post a few more pic edits. Though after the week ends I’ll just keep making stuff anyways lol. You’re welcome ^_^ Happy you are enjoying it.

[sqbr]

nerdyholler replied to your photoset: Screenshots of Scott Ryder, a brash biotic of East...

I wanted to make a m!ryder with long hair but couldn’t get it to work. He looks great!

It took some experimenting, all the shoulder length ones made him look somewhere between anime character and 90s surfer dude :)

[continuous-spec]

Thank you both! @nerdyholler I don’t think I’m allowed to mention those kind of details in public for the story, but I can IM you on those specifics if you want. :)

[nerdierholler]

This got a random kudos yesterday. I have a couple of Jaal one shots that seem to resurface on ao3 from time to time. This one was just pure silly fun to write. Looking up terrible pick up lines for Ryder was great.

Once Ryder and Jaal have been together long enough, Ryder becomes comfortable enough to start using bad pick up lines with him as a joke. Jaal is generally confused.

[rock-paperback-scissors]

@nerdyholler replied to your post: I just finished DA2 and can’t even find a proper...

Yeah, there’s a lot to sort through.

For some reason, the absolute last straw was when the courtyard statues turned against me. what the WHAT. Although I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s just a Varric thing... 

[kestrelsansjesses]

*cough* Bite for Kandros x Ryder

They didn’t lay gently down in bed so much as they fell into it, a tussle of limbs and eager, grasping hands.

Just an hour before, they had been drinking on the Nexus, sitting back on the cool grass from a freshly sprouting park. Things were finally growing; there was space enough now that the Initiative didn’t have to rely on fragile patches of soil just to grow the vegetables needed to survive. They were far from being in the clear just yet, but there were saplings now, tender shoots that might one day be flowers. Grass, actual grass! Wren Ryder had plucked a single blade, placing it between two fingers and blowing on it so that it produced a high, squeaking whistle, making Kandros blink with bemusement, mandibles opening in surprise. “Something I learned back on Earth, when we lived there,” she said, before crushing the grass between two fingers, inhaling the smell it gave off, like summer days long past.

There was even a bottle of wine for Ryder, the turian equivalent for Kandros. Six hundred years of aging did a bottle good, though she admittedly didn’t have much of a taste for it. It was supposedly floral and fruity at once, but white wine tasted like white wine, and it all tasted the same when you were drinking directly from the bottle, artificial sunlight beaming down on you with enough strength to cause a sunburn, if you stayed out for long enough.

Half a bottle later, and Ryder felt good. It was clear that Kandros felt the same way, from how he looked at her, up and down, just appreciating. “My place or yours?” he finally asked, breaking the comforting silence, the hum of voices as everyone enjoyed this spot of tranquility in all this mess.

Flustered, as she was every time Kandros propositioned her, Ryder managed to spout out a quick “yours” without sounding too much like she was choking. She could have outlined her reasons, if Kandros had asked for them, though he hadn’t. 1. His place was much closer. 2. She hadn’t bothered to make her bed, not expecting any visitors to the Tempest. There may or may not have been a pile of yesterday’s clothes located somewhere adjacent to, but not quite in, the laundry shoot.

Kandros helped her up, hand lingering on the small of Ryder’s back for a few seconds longer than was strictly necessary. They didn’t link arms; neither was one for PDA, but they walked closely together, enough so that their arms brushed every now and then, bringing goosebumps to Ryder’s skin and… Shit. Did turians get goosebumps? Probably not.

Mercifully, no one stopped them this time. Ryder looked at Kandros from the corner of her eye every now and then, trying to look flirtatious, instead looking mildly paranoid. Her reaction made him check that everything was okay- fringe straight? Everything in order? Then why did she keep staring at him like that?

Standing before his door, there was a moment of awkwardness where both reached up to open it; after all, Ryder had Kandros’ door code. Laughing, he let her do the honors, waiting for the door to be safely close behind them before picking her up casually, putting her over his shoulder and carrying her over to the bed. From her dangling position, Ryder could see that his room was still almost eerily neat, not a single item out of place. How did he even live like this? But she had other things to consider at that moment- things beside the frigid air he kept his room at, and how even his sheets were even.

He dumped her into the bed with something less than gentleness, and she pulled him down on top of her, unwilling to wait and play games. It was probably the wine talking, but it was a damn good night, wasn’t it? Or day. Probably still day, actually. “You going to figure out the bra today?” she teased him, feeling his hands ride up underneath her shirt, pulling it off her head. His mouth traced from hers on downward, resting in the hollow of her throat a moment; hard, insistent turian kisses. She would have it no other way.

Instead of continuing downward, he rested on her shoulder, his head laying there for a moment. “Tired already?”

“You wish,” he responded, and then his teeth clamped down gently on her skin, a nibble that brought pain and pleasure both. Turians had sharp teeth, far sharper than a human, and she thought the skin may have broken slightly, but it didn’t feel bad, exactly. It brought all the blood rushing to the surface on every region of her body, counteracting the cold and-

“Pathfinder, I recommend seeking medical treatment immediately.” SAM’s voice was not a welcome distraction. Whatever wriggling Ryder had been doing stopped, and she held a hand up to Kandros. He sat back, puzzled, and waited, recognizing the look in her eyes she got when SAM was relaying a message.

“SAM, another time.” She rolled her eyes at Kandros, as if to say ‘AI, right?’

SAM wasn’t done though, apparently. “Turian saliva contains several agents that can be prohibitive to human health and well being if it directly enters the bloodstream.”

Ah, shit. “How much? Because it’s just one little bite.” It must have been strange for Kandros to hear only one side of the conversation, but he had gone from alarmed to actually laughing at her, trying to hide it behind his hand and failing.

“Less than a liter, Ryder.” A liter? That would take dozens of bites.

“SAM, kindly shut the fuck up.” The AI stopped immediately, and Ryder turned back to kandros. “One liter, so try not to inject me or something. But the least you could do is make the other shoulder match.” She pulled him down on top of her again.

One liter. They were perfectly safe.

[littlewatty]

Kitt and Reyes. Hit me. #42. “Don’t ask me that” and #43. “say it”

//Sorry this took so long! MERweek got in the way, and then work did. But its done now! And its all full of that glorious angst.

AO3 link

There was something weird about returning to Kadara. Everything had changed, but nothing seemed different at the same time. The port was functioning just as well as it had been before. Sure, there were less beatings in public spaces, no heads on spikes outside the gates, but there were new “taxes” on any trade going through. If it wasn’t one thing, it was something else. Can’t make everyone happy.

The slums seemed to have changed the most. The people that lived there didn’t seem so downtrodden. There was now a soup kitchen for anyone who couldn’t afford food of their own. It was the little things.

“You okay, Kid?”

The sound of her krogan companion’s voice, and the firm hand on her shoulder, drew Kitt’s mind away from the distractions she’d been looking for. It’d been her idea to bring him along instead of going alone. For her safety, and her sanity. “Yeah. I’ll be okay.”

The two of them were standing alone in front of the door to Tartarus. It’d been several weeks since she’d set foot on the planet, let alone stood at the door to the club that her Collective contact called home. Because that’s all he was now - just a contact. She had to remember that. Whatever Reyes Vidal had been before, all the lies, the scheming, the using her, had thrown that away. He made the decisions that led to this point. If there was anyone to blame, it was him, and she had to remind herself of that.

Taking a deep breath, she motioned her hand across the door, and the drumming of the music below thudded through her feet and into her chest. There were too many memories of the room in the back. Too many emotions. If she saw him again, she’d buckle. She wasn’t strong enough for this. Turning on her heel, Kitt tried to book it back out of the bar, but Drack stopped her.

“No backing out. This is about the Outpost, not him. Besides, if he makes you cry, I’ll kill him.”

“I can’t do this.”

“Yes. You can. Now get in there.” It did make her feel a little better. Just a little.

Half the bar patrons on the upper floor seemed to be watching every step they made. Most of them were likely Collective. Why wouldn’t they be? This was practically their home base at the port. It was always full of them. And they’d tell the Charlatan all about how the Pathfinder was too chicken to even face the lowly smuggler. If only all those poor sods knew.

As they walked past a table with the one asinine dancer who always seemed like she was on break, Kitt stole her drink and threw it back in one go. A harsh whiskey. Great. It went down with a cough, but she needed it, and hopefully it would give her that confidence she needed to face Reyes Vidal once and for all.

“Ah, Pathfinder. It’s good to see you.” His voice was like silk, as smooth and charming as he had always been, every syllable promising a good time if she ever gave in. Whether he intended it that way or not. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“This is business, Reyes. I’m here for the Outpost.”

“Of course. Sit, please.” Even with the invitation, Kitt remained standing, shifting her weight into one hip and crossing her arms. Better that she didn’t get comfortable. For now she had the strength to keep her distance. She had to keep that. “Or don’t. So, the outpost?”

“You’re going to increase the Collective’s security blanket in the area. Pirates and Outlaw scavengers have tried hitting it twice this week alone.”

“Yes, and they were returned the favor. The Collective agents in charge of protecting your Outpost made sure of that. Isn’t that adequate?” Reyes reached to his table to pour his tumbler full. He wasn’t allowed to even touch the glass before she took it away from him and placed it on the farther table, far beyond his reach.

“No.”

“Tsk, no need to get testy.”

“You are going to increase your security blanket on the Outpost.” Kitt kept her voice firm.

It only got a sigh in response. “To increase the Collective’s presence around the Outpost would have costs. Agents would have to be pulled from either the Port or Drauliir. Not to mention, having more exiles in the area around an Initiative Outpost would likely only make them nervous.”

“They’ll get over it. You owe me this, Reyes.”

“Are we really going there?”

“Yes. We are. I didn’t stop that sniper, even though I should have shot you anyway for lying to me. You. Owe. Me.”

Reyes sighed again, glancing towards the whiskey. She pushed it farther beyond his reach. “Kitt.” Her name rolled off his tongue.

“Drack, give us the room please.”

“This is inadvisable, Pathfinder. You have increased levels of cortisol in your system, and your heart rate is reaching 100bpm.”

“You sure about that, Kid?” The lack of any response at all as she stared down Reyes was an answer in and of itself. Drack’s huge, hulking form shrugged and left the room. SAM offered no more comments, but she could still feel the almost buzz in the back of her mind, telling her he was still closely monitoring every reaction.

Just breathe. You can do this. He doesn’t have a hold over you anymore. It was all Kitt could do to reassure herself. There would be no falling into the trap that was his honeyed whiskey words, and remembering how they tasted on his tongue– No. She wasn’t going there. He was a jackal. A wolf among sheep. A predator. And she was easy prey.

“Alright.” Reyes clasped his fingers in his lap. Despite the tension he was still oh so casually leaning against the back of his sofa. “Are we finally going to have a civil discussion about what happened in Drauliir?”

“You lied to me!”

“Or an angry shouting match. That works too.”

“Oh, just shut up and listen for once, Reyes! You didn’t trust me. Me. Of all people!” Her hand swept across the table, accidentally sending his tumbler crashing to the ground in a shatter of glass and wasted whiskey. That made him twitch.

“Yes, you, the human Pathfinder. The Hero of the Andromeda Initiative. The Nexus has failed us before, Kitt.”

“But I haven’t! Not once!”

“No, you haven’t,” he conceded. “In the end, you are still a hand of the Initiative. How could I have known they wouldn’t force your decision once you knew both players on the field?”

“I’m not Tann’s pawn. Goddamnit, Reyes!” The tears tugged at the corners of her eyes. It was too early. She had to bite her lip to choke them back. Trying to breathe, she closed her eyes and placed a hand over them, trying to find the words that would come next. There was nothing. She came up empty.

In the silence that followed, Reyes finally stood from his seat, crossing past her to collect the bottle of whiskey before it met the same fate as his tumbler. For lack of glassware, he took a draw straight from the bottle, then offered it to her. “I tried to apologize, Kitt. It fell on deaf ears.”

“What did you expect?” She put her hand up to keep him away and turn down the whiskey in one motion. “You promised me that you wouldn’t be like the Nexus. You promised you wouldn’t use me, or keep things from me.”

“I have never pretended to not be a liar.”

“But you didn’t have to lie to me. ” Kitt needed to sit down now, or she might collapse from the overwhelming pain in her chest. After everything they’d been through, everything they’d done together, he openly admitted to purposefully keeping the truth from her. Apologies didn’t matter at this point.

So many “what if’s” passed through her mind. If she hadn’t been emotionally invested in Reyes, would she have chosen him during that duel? If she had been a neutral party, would she had let Sloane die again? Or would she had saved her? If Kitt had been stronger, could she have stopped that sniper and faced Reyes to settle things in a civil manner?

“Tell me one thing… and be honest, or I might just have to shoot you.”

“No promises.” The seething glare she lifted in his direction made him raise his hands and back off. “Alright. No lies.”

“If I had stopped your sniper… instead of letting him shoot Sloane… what would you have done? What would have happened?”

Sighing seemed to be a common trend whenever she asked him something he didn’t like. “If Sloane had survived, Kadara Port would still belong to the Outlaws, and a war between the Outlaws and the Collectives would destroy the planet, and any Outpost the Initiative would have settled.”

“I didn’t ask about the collective. I asked about you.”

The question seemed to sink deep into his gut, turning that normally suave demeanor into something uncomfortable, almost anxious. It made her wonder if he’d keep this promise, or if he would toss it out the airlock like the last promise he made her. “Kitt. Don’t ask me that.”

“I asked. Now say it.”

He shifted uncomfortably, taking another long draw from the bottle in his hands, until it seemed to empty. “My work would have gotten significantly more difficult. Tartarus would no longer be a haven. The Collective would be at risk. All of my attentions would have to be focused on recovering whatever ground we would have lost from my miscalculations.”

“So you expected me to stand by and let Sloane die?”

“Hoped.”

“And if I hadn’t? What would happen to us?”

“Kitt.” Reyes’ voice was stern. It was a sore spot. If he hadn’t wanted to answer the other question, he didn’t want to touch this one at all. Not something that bode well for the answer.

“Say it.”

He tried to get more out of the whiskey bottle, but there was nothing left, forcing the answer to be given. No more avoiding it. “Any ally of Sloane’s is an enemy of the Collective. The ceasefire order against you and your team would have been null.”

The pain in her chest might as well have been from his own pistol. It hurt. Their own relationship rode on his bet that she wouldn’t betray him. And if she had chosen to stand by Sloane, someone who had been honest to her even if it was rude, then he would let his men kill her if it came down to it.

“So it was all a sham,” she growled through grit teeth.

“I didn’t say that, Kitt-”

Her motion to stand up and leave the room cut off his words as he tried to defend himself. “I don’t need to hear anything else, Reyes. You are going to increase security on the Outpost, this isn’t a negotiation.” Swallowing her own heart, Kitt turned her back on him and strode out of the room, meeting Drack on the other side of the door.

This time, she was walking away from him on her own two feet, even if the world around her was falling apart.

[slothssassin]

Pink hair, sunshine and sarcasm.

Zoe Ryder for @nerdyholler