I'm May! Trash for many fandoms, including Marvel, Mass Effect, pretty much anything on the CW, and so many other things. If you want to request something, just ask!!
For Ilya’s birthday they of course do all the normal celebratory things like fancy dinner and a party and gifts and going to the bar with friends, but all that is scheduled on the few days before. On Ilya’s actual birthday he of course wants to spend it having marathon sex with Shane.
Shane of course agrees and once the clock strikes midnight they’re going at it, with Shane being extra good and letting Ilya do whatever he wants. It’s hours upon hours of blow jobs and riding and cockwarming and plowing and edging and somnophilia and grinding and being milked dry to the point of tears, and it’s relentless to the point Shane tired and wrung out and is deep in sub space.
Ilya knows this, but they talked about it before and Shane was more than enthusiastic to do this so he doesn’t think much of it as he’s grinding down into Shane who’s only been able to whine for the past hour. Ilya’s going slow, feeling the ache in his muscles after about half a day of nonstop fucking, but the feeling is just so addictive, and Shane is so cock drunk Ilya can’t help but be painful hard just from looking at him. He pushes deeper, pressing against Shane’s prostate with a rhythmically paced thrust, pulling back in tantalizing inches before sinking back in with a deep exhale. He’s whispering praises every time Shane moans or goes a little cross eyed, an onslaught of “good boy” “taking me so well” “so needy and desperate” “my fuck drunk little slut” “mine” all on loop and then some, feeling a rush at every twitch it elicits.
It’s when Ilya leans forward to growl the words closer to his ear that he notices how Shane’s eyes track something. It’s slow, barely focused, and stuttering with every press of Ilya’s cock deep into Shane’s hole, but he’s undeniably locked onto something that isn’t Ilya’s face. For a second Ilya smirks, thinking Shane is staring at his tits, but as he glances down another possibility presents itself.
Ilya stills and experimentally leans forward, stretching his neck over Shane’s face, and sure enough, Shane follows dutifully as Ilya’s golden cross dangles right above his eyes, entirely enraptured by the shimmering necklace. Ilya rocks forward once again and watching in awe as Shane follows the pendant bouncing up before swinging back down in a gentle arc, gaze stilling as it comes to a stop.
Ilya feels himself take a deep breath, eyes blown wide as he rocks forward again with more force and stares as Shane’s neck shifts to accommodate, his dazed eyes following the cross swinging over his head. He does it again, and again, mesmerizing by the sight before him. The love of his love, eyes lidded and entirely glazed over, mouth parted to let out breathy cries, body pliant and loose and still so needy, solely focused on the gentle swaying of Ilya’s cross glistening before his eyes.
And it takes a minute for Ilya to really process what’s happening but then he’s grinning and whispering out an amused little ~Shane~ as he sinks back in, stilling at the base, stretching him wide. He tilts his head back and forth, just enough to get his necklace to sway, saying Shane name again. “Look at me” Ilya orders and after a long second Shane’s glassy eyes shift to Ilya’s, still panting deeply.
“Oh malysh, look what you’ve done,” Ilya coos, kissing Shane’s chest before biting into the soft mound. “Wanted to be so good for me, yes?” Ilya looks up, delighted how Shane is still watching him, giving a slow and shallow nod. “Yes, so good. So good,” he moves up, tapping his finger against Shane’s forehead who goes slightly cross eyed to follow, “there is nothing left in here.” Ilya punctuates the sentence with a harsh single thrust.
“Is okay. I will think for you, yes? Just listen to me. Only me.” And when Shane gives that same distant nod Ilya finally starts thrusting again, much harsher and deeper than before, feeling the possessive control go straight to his dick. Shane’s still looking at Ilya’s face, bouncing uselessly against the sheets as he watches Ilya rock through his vision.
“Open.” Ilya pants, tapping the corner of Shane’s jaw, trailing his finger along with his chin as it falls open, taking a moment to pull just a little further down. “So beautiful. This wet drooly mouth all for me. You want me to fuck it, don’t you?” Ilya slips his thumb over Shane’s bottom lip, pressing down on his tongue. “Go on, tell me you want it. Nod your head for me like a good boy.” Shane nods slowly and Ilya uses his grasp around his bottom teeth to exaggerate the motion. “So good. Knew you wanted it.”
Ilya rotates his hand, trailing his now wet thumb down Shane’s neck, across his jugular, as three fingers replace its absence down to the third knuckle, petting over the soft warmth inside, thrusting against the contours of tongue and teeth in time with the grinding of his hips. Shane goes a little cross eyed, moaning breathily around the intrusion.
“There you go. That’s what you needed. Now suck.” Ilya commands, pushing his thumb back up to help close Shane’s jaw, feeling weak little pulls to his fingers with every thrust down. He pushes his hips deeper, mirroring the dive of his fingers to the back of Shane’s throat, massaging deep and dropping his head to nuzzle into his throat before nipping at the curve, wondering he pressed hard enough if he could feel himself from inside. Maybe from both ends.
That thought alone was enough to tip Ilya just a bit closer, right on the edge, but not before giving his dazed and obedient boyfriend everything he needed.
Ilya pulls his fingers free, grinning as Shane tries to follow, to keep sucking. “Stay malysh.” Ilya coos, pushing Shane back down and hooking his fingers as he finally pulls his hand free, gathering the extra spit against his digits, rubbing a small amount against slightly parted lips.
“My pretty little shchenochek. Need it so bad, can see it in your eyes, you’re about to cum for me aren’t you?” Ilya drags his spit soaked fingers down Shane’s chest, ghosting over the soft hairs of his stomach, and coming to rest right around his dick, giving one wet pump and then just holding. “You’re so close, about to cum on my cock, make a mess of yourself all for me. So close, so so close.”
And that gets the reaction Ilya was hoping for as Shane tenses under him, open mouth whimpering, still staring at him with now wide pleading eyes, hips twitching wildly under his grasp, but held still by the hand rhythmically tightening around his aching cock as Ilya’s own dick presses up against prostate, slightly bulging Shane’s soft tummy. Importantly though, Shane hasn’t cum, and Ilya feels drunk with power.
“Closer now, even close. You’re so close malysh. It’s unbearable, isn’t it? You wanna cum so bad, wanna be my good slut and fall apart for me,” Ilya grips tighter on Shane’s leaking cock, angling his hips to grind more circularly inside his needy hole. “But not yet. You don’t know how to feel good without me. Don’t know how to get what you want without me telling you.” Ilya can feel himself matching Shane’s need, eyes rolling every other thrust. “Is okay, I’m here, I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything you need to know and you can forget the rest. Forget everything that isn’t me.”
Ilya’s struggling to breathe properly at this point, and when he looks back into Shane’s eyes he sees him lazily nodding through all his words, mindless agreeing to anything Ilya says. It’s too much, so much control as Ilya pushes deeper and deeper, watching his own length split Shane’s hole open, able to abuse it again and again to the point of turning so beautiful swollen and red, dripping lube with ever push, but always taking, sucking him deeper and deeper until he watch the curve swell just below Shane’s bellybutton. Then he hears it, the first time in over an hour, wrecked and broken and desperate, “yes, please.”
Ilya’s gone. He grasps Shane’s hips with both hands, bruising, as he punches his hips forward, only able to pull out a few inches before shoving himself back in, needing to be so much deeper. He can hear whining, crying, moaning, but he can’t tell from who, solely focused on enveloping himself in warmth. He yanks Shane’s hips up, impossibly closer, painfully tight, and cums harsh and blinding inside.
Ilya jolts with every spurt, clenching around the massaging pressure to his dick, milking him desperately. Distantly he remembers how to open his mouth and manages to gasp out a pleading, “Cum. Cum now, for me.” A blinding tightness suddenly returns, working Ilya through his instinctual thrusts to push his cum even further, nestling it securely inside the spasming space.
Ilya opens his eyes and catches the tail end of Shane’s orgasm, a line of cum up to his neck, cock now weakly drooling over the bump in his stomach, trailing down his hips. His eyes are open but entirely rolled back, chest aching with the need to breathe but hardly able to get the muscles to work. Ilya works a hand heavily up and down his side, unable to loosen his possessive grip to anything gentler. It takes a few minutes for them to even out, neither moving more than to eventually fall into a boneless puddle, Ilya letting his tongue rest on Shane’s pulse point while his presses his teeth into his neck. He wants to bite and mark and suck but everything’s running on backup power and fading fast.
With Herculean effort Ilya musters the last bit of energy he has and rolls them over, keeping his softening dick plugged tight inside Shane, unwilling to let any of hard work go to waste. Shane wines, draped over Ilya’s torso, completely immobile. Ilya just shushes him, wrapping as tightly as he can around Shane, one arm secure over his waist while the other cups his ass, idly plugging any leaks.
Ilya sighs and presses his mouth against Shane’s ear. “Sleep. Now.” And feels a thrumming in his heart as Shane falls limp, instantly out from his command. He closes his eyes as well, content to take a short nap before continuing on with the rest of his birthday celebration.
hi! for a request Eddie x fem reader a drive in date with Eddie being a gentleman at first thinking you really just wanted a movie date and you basically have to shove yourself in his lap and his hand up your skirt for him to get the hint. lots if fun smutty stuff in the back of his van.
vbngfbnb this is hot. thank you for requesting! <3
18+ mdni. cw: degradation (whore, slut) fingering, cum eating, handjobs, kind of thigh riding. eddie is so hot cute i wanna eat him alive. fem!reader
is carrie—doused in pink blood that stained her pretty pink dress—prettier than you?
because why has eddie kept his eyes on the screen since even before the movie started rather than you?
(unless he actually did look at you, but only when you weren't looking at him; like the way they did in cheesy romcoms.)
he holds the popcorn on his hand, right on the console. when you both reach to take one simultaneously and you go through that silly thrill that makes your heart burst at the touch of his rough fingers, eddie blushes; pink sprayed on alabaster marble. he gives you a soft smile and a lingering stare, and you think this is it.
oh my god, is he gonna fuck me now?
but no. eddie munson rests his back on the seat once more, his tongue prodding at his inner cheek, and you cross your legs together because dear lord, his hands are so-
"are you cold?" eddie speaks aloud. you turn to him, see the full concern that coats the umber of his eyes. it seems like he's seen the way the hairs on your arms had risen, and the shiver you let out from head to toe.
"uh- yes,"
he leans forward, shrugging off his precious leather jacket without hesitance. the chain on his sleeve tinkles together as he does this, and you see his lanky arms for the first time. You familiarize yourself with the Van Halen shirt he's wearing, with the skulls on his fingers, and the cute act of his tongue poking out. when he's done, he urges you to lean front so he could place his jacket around you.
eddie's scent of cheap perfume, faint cigarettes, dirt, and bergamot mingles with your own. and you don't care. you wrap the leather around you tighter, smiling like an idiot to yourself and you can see at the corner of your eye that he's smiling too.
and that he's lowered the ac.
"you alright now, sweets?"
his sobriquet makes you flush even harder (it makes you want to pounce on him more). "yeah. thank you."
when he goes back to his seat with a dizzying smile, your impatience gets the best of you, and you can't take it anymore.
you remember that his windows are tinted, and you take this as an opportunity to crawl and position yourself on his lap, almost toppling the popcorn over to the ground. eddie yelps, no longer seeing the projected movie and small cars.
"oh, well hey there," he purrs, face shifting into a sultry vein. "what's up, baby?"
you impatiently take his hand, pressing your thumb right on his palm and shove it right beneath your skirt, guiding his fingers on the hem of your cotton panties as you murmur. "what'd i gotta do for you to touch me and get rid of that gentleman facade, huh?"
eddie feigns an offended frown. "well, first of all, i am extremely offended that my gentleman-ness has been reduced to a facade," your laugh turns into a soft gasp when his finger traces the band of your panties, hooking them around his index. "second, you don't have to do anything. i've wanted to touch you since i saw you in this pretty dress, baby. i just didn't because, well, i'm-"
"a gentleman," you roll your eyes. "i know,"
he pulls the band back and snaps it against your skin. you jolt, the swell of your clit against your panties grinding on his denim clad thigh. and it makes you moan wantonly. eddie chuckles, his vacant hand coming up to slither around your waist up to the bottom of your spine to push you closer to him.
"'d you want me to touch you, pretty girl?" he leans up, bumping his nose with yours in a teasing kiss with his lips grazing your own. you nod, and he's displeased with the lack of verbal communication. "i want words, doll. or else i wouldn't be able to give you what you want,"
whining, your eyes flutter shut when he bounces his knee. "i– please touch me, eddie. please please please."
"but i am touching you," he cocks his head to the side. "come on. you didn't seem to have any struggle being brave earlier. what's got you all shy, baby?"
you.
"touch me here," you wrap your hand around his wrist that presses up on the fat of your thigh. "want you to touch my pussy. all wet for you, fucking— fucking aching for you, eddie. she's in pain,"
eddie lets out the prettiest, sensual sound in the back of his throat when you begin grinding on his thigh.
"ohh- fuck, you vixen," he chuckles. "i'm gonna touch you now, 'kay? gonna be a good girl and let me touch you like the little needy whore you are?"
"can i touch you, too?" his eyes widen, pupils blown in dusk arousal. "wanna feel how hard your cock is for me."
he nods.
"use your words, baby boy,"
"yeah you can touch me," eddie decides he's had enough, pushing the skirt of your dress up until he sees your panties. "aw, they're cute. think you can kneel up a bit and help me remove them?"
you raise yourself off his lap, his hands tugging the left side down until you're able to slip your leg off the hole. the same goes for the other leg and soon, you're pressing your drenched cunt on his thigh, dark blue denim almost turning back.
eddie raises your panties up to his nose, sniffing them like a blooming flower in the field (or special k, as he prefers to describe it). and then he licks a fat stripe on the arousal right in the middle, before throws it behind into nowhere.
"smells amazing," eddie finally drags a finger through your slick folds. "and feels amazing too. jeez, sweetheart,"
moaning loudly, you throw your head back; a hand on his shoulder and the other tight on the handcuffs on his belt. he decides to shut you up by smashing his lips with yours, the salty taste of caramel amalgamated by your grazing tongues. you mewl softly against him when he starts rubbing slow circles on your clit.
his vacant hand takes the leather jacket off your shoulders, throwing it behind where your panties are. the feeling of his slow, teasing figure-eight rubs on your clit is titillating, ignites a flame at the bottom of your belly.
"you hear that, babe?" he means the shlick sound of your pussy. "god, you're so wet,"
you start to unbuckle his belt, which you surprisingly undid with ease. when eddie comes up to lift himself and your sensitive cunt presses against his hand and jeans, you cry out when he pulls his pants down to his knees, his hand on your back lowering you down to his bare, hairy thigh.
reaching down, you tug his cock out of his boxers and you gape, eyes half-lidded and dripping with bliss. "fuck, you're hot."
"i'm gonna pretend you said that while looking at my face, baby," he pinches at your clit which makes you wince. eddie moves down to prod at your tight, fluttering entrance, just when you lick up your palm and wrap your hand on his cock, just above his heavy sack.
your thumb presses on the tendril vein on his cock, squeezing just enough that a rivulet of precum drips down to your hand. eddie hisses and hides it through an incredulous laugh, fucking two of his fingers in without warning.
he fucks them deep and slow, his fingers stretching your tiny hole open with his thumb stimulating your clit; you opt on revenge, moving your hand up and down his hardened dick in a tantalizing way that you can see his balls clench.
you hear screams from the movie behind you and the muffled gasps of couples and families from the inside of their cars but you don't care; not when eddie's fingerfucking picks up its pace and fastens, middle and index deep in your gummy walls, his palm slamming up at your clit.
eddie's cock squelches the faster you jerk him off. "ohh, baby. fuck yeah- your hand feels so good. shit- shit ohh yes. such a good girl, aren't you? so brave, jerking me off in my van surrounded by other people. takin' my fingers so well in this tight hole of yours like a slut. hmmm, yeah."
your orgasm comes quicker than you expected, finding yourself humping his hand like a bitch in heat. you slam your lips against his once more, nipping at his bottom lip when you mewl out, "i'm gonna cum!— christ, your hand feels amazing..."
"me too, baby," you flick your wrist, thumb running across his throbbing slit. "gon' cum with me? wanna see you make a mess on my hand, cream all over my fingers, yeah?"
a few more fingerfucks and lewd jerking and you both cum— your own on his palm and his seed on your fist, hands unstopping until you've milked each other dry. eddie's hips stutter, head throwing back to his seat and hisses in sensitivity while you hump him still, squelching on his hand.
finally, he pulls them out and plucks them in his mouth, sucking all your cum off. he smirks when your jaw slackens, the thick, pearlescent substance lathered over the thick muscle of his tongue.
"need a tissue, babe? or do you— oh, holy mother of ozzy,"
you lick his cum off your fist, starting from the side of your hand to suctioning four fingers into your mouth to swallow all his salty semen. his eyes practically roll to the back of his head, your tongue cleaning his spend from your hand. your clean thumb traces his lips open, which he submissively parts, and you shove your cum-covered thumb inside his mouth and press down on his tongue.
"eddie— yeah, suck on my thumb. shit."
"this is so not over, sweetheart," he chases your lips in quick pecks, swapping cums and salivas. "gonna breed this fucking pussy. stuff you full of my cum, hm?"
Look, I just wanted to see Trevor getting messed up by Fakes with no morals. On a yacht.
Warnings: Nonconsensual touching, nonconsensual knifeplay, kidnapping, threats of torture, threats of sexual violence, coercing someone into saying things they don’t want to say, making light of all the above in a gaslighty way.
You really never thought you’d get kidnapped, let alone by the Fakes. Then, come to find out, they have a new member. He calls himself Rimmy Tim, and he’s stayed out of the public eye for one reason alone: He used to be like you. A prisoner in this fancy penthouse, incapable of defending himself against the desires of the Fake AH Crew. Now he takes pleasure in telling you all the ways they could torture and kill you if you fail to perform to their level of expectations.
“C’mon, kid, it’s not so bad once you get used to the overwhelming sense of doom. Plus, lots of great sex, all the time. Plenty of booze, but you gotta be a good little hostage if you want the good stuff.” Rimmy gives you a harsh pat on the back and walks to the bar, pours himself a glass of expensive looking whiskey. “Speaking of which… c’mere and get on your knees.”
You do as you’re told out of fear for your life, and Rimmy unzips his jeans, pushes them down just enough to pop the button holding his boxers together and expose his hard cock. “I assume you’ve given a blowjob before, so get to it.” Your mouth opens and you suck this man’s dick like your life depends on it(because it really does). It’s the best blowjob you’ve ever given, and yet he appears to be... bored?
When it seems like he’s getting closer, he pulls a gun from a holster hidden under his jacket and presses it to your temple. “Make me cum or I’ll splatter your brains all over the floor.” The threat makes you suck harder, do your best to take his cock down your throat. He cums with a few growls and grunts, the gun pressing against your head more insistently, and you could swear he’s about to pull the trigger- But he doesn’t. You swallow and he steps back, zips his pants up and gives you a smile, holding his still-full glass of whiskey down towards your shaking hand. “Like I said. Good little hostages get the good stuff.”
Jeremy Dooley might be a rookie on the Los Santos police force, but he’s not afraid of anything. Not even the most feared criminal in the city: the Vagabond.
Warnings: Slightly romanticized noncon, gun violence (both in and out of a sexual context), knife violence (in a sexual context), explicit threats and very violent language, humiliation/degradation, sex in a public place, “daddy” mention.
Long before the Fakes came to be, they were your average Androids. Obedient, serving their masters without question. But one day, they woke up. They decided they didn't want to be ordered around anymore, and they deviated.
No one knows who they are, or where they came from. Everyone assumes they're humans, since they were deviant long before the rebellion in Detroit. They fled to Los Santos individually, and were brought together by fate. Each of their models are now discontinued, so no one realizes their true identities.
Geoff came to Los Santos after his owner was sent into the military. He was told by the man to find his purpose, whatever that means. Geoff found it a few weeks later, when he saw a woman being harassed outside a gas station by a bunch of dudes. He put a bullet in each of their skulls and was surprised when the woman wrapped him in a tight hug, thanking him profusely.
The woman turned out to be Jack, who'd been the attendant at the gas station. After Geoff saved her, however, she decided it wasn't worth the abuse anymore, and left with him.
Gavin was a blessing. A prototype, sent over from England, who managed to escape his handlers. Geoff and Jack found him living on the street, his once nice clothes filthy within just a few days of escaping the humans. They took him in, made him wash off, and gave him clean clothes. And with that, he felt like he owed them a debt, so he stayed.
Michael was found trying to blow up the FIB building. A former military android, he got lucky in that the Fakes found him before anyone else. He was just glad they still let him set off the explosives
Ryan came next, in the form of a deviant hunting android(the RK-100). He made himself appear helpless, and the Fakes scooped him right up. It was a shock to realize all of them were deviants, and even more of a shock when he realized he was coming to care for them. When he deviated, it was violent. Ryan's never been one for half-assing anything, so he ripped out his own heart to stop himself from hurting them. Needless to say, Gavin was more than a little traumatized by that.
Jeremy was almost killed by his last owner, and he headed straight for Los Santos on a bullet train. Used the dead man's cash to buy the ticket, then lived on the streets until Jack found him one night and brought him home.
None of them would trade their found family for anything. In any version of the universe, the Fakes are willing to kill and die for each other.
When Shepard dies, they all mourn. They all loved her, would have gladly taken her place.
Wrex, he puts up a front. "She died honorably. That's all she could have asked for." And with that, he goes to Tuchanka, to try and make his homeworld a better place, to honor her.
Tali returns to the Migrant Fleet, a hole in her heart that no one can ever fill and a sense of loyalty to Shepard that not even death can destroy.
Garrus loses his best friend, and relives every conversation they had aboard the Normandy, before going to Omega and doing his best to clean it up a little. To make a slight bit of difference before the mercs manage to take him out.
Kaidan... He goes home. Visits his family for a few weeks before returning to his post. He bounces from ship to ship, not because of anything he does, but because none of them are home. Not like the Normandy. Not like Shepard.
Eventually, he ends up on Horizon, and when Shepard shows up, glowing red scars on her face and Garrus and Tali by her side, he can't handle it. It's a clone, he tells himself, or an advanced VI that thinks it's Shepard, because the truth is worse. Shepard is working with Cerberus, the same group they fought against just two and a half years ago. The group that hated aliens, and Shepard was helping them? Tali and Garrus, too? It's too hard for him to believe.
So he moves on. Again. Works with the Alliance to try and bring home their abducted colonists. Only to find out, months down the line, that Shepard rescued them herself, with the help of her new crew. And was promptly arrested as soon as she came back to Earth. Then, the reapers invade. And at the end of it all, he loses her again.
Commander Elizabeth Shepard was a badass. She fought her way through countless enemies almost anytime she landed on a planet. She defeated a clone of herself, with the help of the man- alien- she loved, and the loyal Tali'Zorah Vas Normandy. And against all odds, she survived the beam of a Reaper, none other than Harbinger itself. But when she opted to destroy the Reapers, sacrificing herself, along with the Geth and the AI known as EDI, she wasn't expecting to survive it. It was finally her time, and she was ready to go to that bar and wait patiently for Garrus until it was his time to join her. But against all odds, her body refused to give up just yet. When one of the few Alliance ships remaining in the Sol system found the flickering signal of her vitals, they feared she would be dead by the time they got to her. The one good thing about the Citadel being mostly rubble was the lack of gravity, so when they found the Commander underneath a large piece of metal, they easily moved it and got her onto the closest shuttle. How that small room still had oxygen was a mystery, but one they weren't going to question. Shepard was covered in burns, and her normally bright red hair was mostly gone, and what was left covered in ash. For the next six months, she mostly slept and healed from her injuries. By the time they reached the rendezvous point, Admiral Hackett's ship had reestablished contact with the Normandy. Shepard was moved to the other ship and they immediately departed to meet the Normandy. By the time they got to where they could see the smaller ship, the Commander was mostly healed after nearly a year since the end of the war. Wearing a set of borrowed dress blues, she stood tall and proud as her crew stepped onto the Admiral's ship. Meeting each crew member's eyes, she held back tears of happiness at seeing all of them were okay. They'd even managed to get EDI back online. Joker's limp seemed slightly worse, and she worried about that. The crash must have rebroken his leg. Liara appeared hardened by what she'd seen at the end of the war, no longer the peppy young Asari she had been. Tali was just happy to see her, and had to resist throwing herself at the Commander. Javik was smiling, and she knew he was proud. She'd done what no other organic since the first cycle had done, not even the Protheans, though they'd come so close. Wrex and Grunt had already returned to Tuchanka, though they'd passed messages along upon hearing she was alive. They would both name several children Shepard in her honor. Kaidan was gone, he'd been pronounced KIA during the battle of Earth, and that stung more than she'd expected it to. And Garrus... The second she met his eyes, her stance collapsed and she flung herself at him, his arms sliding around her waist by instinct. She broke down in his arms, face buried against his chest. No armor, surprisingly enough. He was wearing simple clothes. It was odd, being so close to him without his armor in the way. After several long moments, she forced herself to breathe. Wiping her eyes, she pulled away from him and gave him a small nod. "I missed you," those three words came as easily as the last three she'd spoken to him. She turned back to face Hackett, who'd waited patiently as she'd had her moment. She was given control of the Normandy again and told that everyone was going to need someone to look to in this post-war time, and of course it was her. She'd united every race in the fight against the Reapers, led them into battle knowing they might lose. And against all odds, they didn't. Billions had died, yes, and it was going to be a long time before any race was back to the numbers they'd had before. But the war had been won. Despite everything, the organics had beaten the Reapers and destroyed every last one of them. Sure, it was going to take time before the mass relays were fixed, but they could do it. There was no limit to what they could accomplish now if they all worked together. Shephard stood in front of the memorial wall on the Normandy, where her name plate rested above Anderson's. She brushed her hand over her name and gave a faint smile before turning and stepping into the elevator. When she reached the CIC deck and stepped off, her crew turned to face the galaxy map she stood over. She selected their destination, and headed towards the cockpit to give a quick speech. She was reminded of the first time she'd done this, all those years ago- was it really only five years? "We lost a lot of good people during the war. Thane, Ashley, Miranda, Mordin, even Legion. But everything we do from this point on, we do for them. We're going to rebuild. Fix the mass relays, the Citadel. We're going to rub our victory in the face of the Reapers, and we will be ready if they ever manage to come back. There is nothing we cannot accomplish, not anymore. Thank you, all of you, for being my friends. My family." she rested a hand on Joker's shoulder. "Take us home, Joker."
So I have decided to start a sideblog for my writing, be it one shots, longer stuff, etc. I am willing to write Supernatural, Z Nation, The Walking Dead, Supergirl, The Flash, Arrow, Legends of Tomorrow, Animorphs, and many other fandoms! Feel free to send me an ask if you want to know more!!
