#and for SOME FUCKING REASON I SAID “ah and now you can go joker mode on them” or something
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The upside of clear audio memories: i get to hear whoever’s voice super clear :]]
The downside of audio memories: What the fuck was the context
#memories#seriously I woke up this morning like. i had a memory of me an herr forehead (herr babygirl /ref) talking#and for SOME FUCKING REASON I SAID “ah and now you can go joker mode on them” or something#and Apollo replied with “oh my god you’re such a dork”#JOKER MODE??? EXCUSE ME???#JOKER MODE??? WHAT WERE WE TALKING SBOUT??!??#persona 5 joker would make a lot more sense#but if we were talking about Batman joker. That’s a whole nother can of worms i dont fucking know about
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JKR 2: BRC 1
Joker x Reader
Word Count: 1921
Summary: You love him, that much is obvious, but now Wayne is being flirty suddenly.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Alas, the much awaited sequel to JKR. At some point I got an ask for a sequel, but I literally cannot find it, so … Here it is! There will be more posting randomly as I get it out. Unlike my other series, I’ve got nothing like an outline, so I have no idea how long this is gonna be or when I’m gonna be posting it.
One of your favorite parts of being a mercenary was the fact that it was extremely rare for you to have to be a functioning human on Monday mornings. It was a perk you hadn’t really expected, but you absolutely loved sleeping in while the rest of the world crawled out of bed to begin another shitty work week. That alone almost made it worth it to put up with all the nonsense you handled day to day. And since you’d gotten involved with the joker, you’d even gotten to enjoy the addition of a warm body next to yours seeing how he shared your philosophy on those mornings.
So when you woke up naturally one Monday morning several months since agreeing to work with Joker, you were more than a little annoyed. The irritation was only slightly alleviated when you started to really observe your surroundings and realized that Joker was currently playing big spoon with you and clinging to you like a child with a beloved toy. That, at least, was a sweet bonus to waking this early. A little smile formed on your face despite yourself. You could feel his breath on your bare shoulder, softly puffing every now and then in his sleep; the rhythm of it could almost put you to sleep.
And then your bladder made itself known.
The annoyance promptly came roaring back.
Getting out of bed was a whole little challenge in and of itself due to the way he was clinging to you, but you somehow managed to escape without waking him. When you glanced back at the bed and saw the fearsome Clown Prince of Crime cuddled up to your pillow and snuggled under your covers, your heart gave a hard thump. Try as you might, it was steadily becoming harder to deny that you’d somehow developed feelings–real, deep feelings–for the madman. Every day you tried not to think about it because of how unlikely it was for him to reciprocate, but seeing him so vulnerable–without makeup and with green hair so faded it was almost completely back to its normal dishwater blond–made some part of you swoon. He trusted you enough to be so unguarded, and that was enough for you … mostly. Part of you still craved someone to talk seriously with, but you were content enough even without it. Or so you told yourself.
Sighing, you shook off the emotions and picked up his grey, patterned shirt from the day before. Problems for another day, you supposed.
Once your bodily functions were taken care of, you quietly stalked your way into the kitchen. Clearly, you weren’t going back to sleep anytime soon, so you might as well make a coffee. Maybe that would somehow help you tame your unwelcome feelings.
Clearly the answer was a big, fat “No,” since, as you were returning to the bedroom, you got distracted with how cut he was while you were in the doorway, mug clasped between your hands. You allowed yourself a moment to enjoy the peaceful atmosphere and pretend that the two of you were just normal people.
Then, true to Gotham’s nature, it all came shattering down when you heard the telltale scratching of someone picking a lock. Specifically the lock on your front door. The switch in your mindset to Business Mode was instantaneous. Your world seemed to sharpen as you slowly eased the bedroom door closed; it would be quite bad if your suspicion about the intruder was true and he saw your houseguest. Your hand tightened around the mug, ready to throw the scalding liquid in an instant if threatened.
An angry scoff left your lips when you recognized the head of brown hair that peaked inside your apartment once the door was unlocked. “You’re really making me regret my decision against getting a guard dog, Mr. Wayne.”
You absolutely hated how dashing his ensuing smirk made him. “As busy as you are? Probably not the best idea.” Unlike the last time he broke in, he wasn’t dressed like he came from a trust fund soiree; instead, he was in a more casual ensemble of dark jeans, a dark shirt, and a leather jacket with red trim.
“Any particular reason you’re breaking into my home today or were you just hoping I was still asleep so you could peep?”
“I have to say no. That’s not exactly my style.” A thump from the bedroom halted whatever excuse he had for this breaking and entering episode.
Your heart gave its second hard thump for the morning, this one out of fear instead of love. Leveling Wayne with a harsh glare, you ordered, “Stay put.”
“Of course.”
Mug still clenched in your hand, you quickly retreated back to the bedroom. Based off the sight that greeted you, you could only assume that the noise was Joker grabbing his pants off the chair and inadvertently throwing the knife from his pocket into the floor. “You good?” you asked the obviously-groggy man.
“I heard voices. What’s going on?”
“Don’t you normally hear voices?” you teased in an attempt to lighten the mood.
“No. And you know that,” he deadpanned. His tongue started flicking as his irritation aggravated the tick.
“I’ve got an unwelcome guest again,” you stated, deciding that blunt was probably better than finesse.”
“Wayne?”
“Yes, so you’re going to stay here while I deal with him.”
“Should I be … jealous?”
“Fuck no. Can’t stand the bastard.” Well that was a bit of a lie. As much as the richboy infuriated you, he also acted as a constant source of amusement. “But I don’t want him knowing anything else about me if I can avoid it. Be a good boy and stay here, and I’ll let you have your wicked way with me later.”
“You’ll let me do that anyway.” He was right and he knew it. There was a long pause as you stared each other down. You could practically see his brain working over his options until he finally exhaled heavily. “Fine. I’m too tired for this, anyway.”
For once, his exhaustion worked to your advantage instead of making him intolerable. “Thank you. I’ll be back in a few.”
“I await with bated breath.”
The Joker handled, you slunk back out to deal with the unmasked Batman; part of you realized that Gotham City Police would love to be in your position. Both men, vulnerable with identities out in the open? They’d probably kill for it. You, however, were just tired of today already.
When you returned to the living room, Bruce had once again made himself at home on your couch. “Boyfriend?” he questioned, eyebrow raised.
“Something like that.”
“He’s got interesting taste,” he commented with a little gesture towards your body.
You raised an eyebrow. Sure, it wasn’t exactly your style, but, “You’re one to talk. Enough of the questions, Mr. Wayne. Why are you here?”
“I need a date for a gala I have to go to tonight.”
Your eyebrows now shot up almost to your scalp. “And you came to me? First off, I don’t like you, so what the fuck? Second, you don’t like me, so what the fuck? Third, do you honestly expect me to believe that you couldn’t get a date? And for that matter–”
“Relax, Y/N. I’m hiring you for a job. I need a distraction, and I hear you’re the best.”
“Awfully short notice. What if I don’t have anything to wear?”
“Already have that handled. Come by my penthouse at six.”
“And payment?”
“Half now, half after. Check your bank account; money’s already there.”
“You’re damn sure that I’m gonna do this, aren’t you.”
“You’re curious, you want to know what I’m up to, and you always get the job done if you’re being paid for it.” He was smirking again and heading for the door as he said that. “See you tonight.”
“Bastard,” you spat at the door the second it was closed. Already, you wanted nothing more than to crawl in bed and stay there for the rest of the day and it was only … 8:13 according to the clock on the wall.
Resigned to your fate for the coming evening, you retreated back to the bedroom. This time, you didn’t even pause to admire your lover’s form splayed across the bed. You did notice that his eyes were staring at you as you approached, though, and gave him a small smile.
“Got a job tonight with the hunky rich boy, huh?” he teased while rolling onto his stomach and kicking his feet up like a girl in a movie about a slumber party. “Am I just not, uh, doin’ it for ya anymore, dollface?”
“Fucker didn’t exactly give me much of a choice, did he?” you sniped right back. “Scoot over; you’re in my spot.”
His response was to flop back over onto his back and pat his lap. “You’re mine now, remember? I was a proper gentleman and hid away while you talked to your suitor.”
“He is not–” You were cut off by him tugging you down to straddle him. “My suitor,” you finished, doing your best to sit on him with some modicum of dignity.
“Oh, you don’t have to lie to me, sweetheart. He’s quite, uh, dreamy.” He cackled. “Any chance you could convince him to join us in here sometime?”
You couldn’t help but laugh. “Sorry, J. I don’t think he’d go for it.” Especially considering the whole nemesis thing … “You’re just stuck with me, I’m afraid.”
“Ah well, have fun for the both of us, my dear,” he shrugged. His fingers suddenly halted their attempts to unbutton your (his?) shirt; alarmingly, you hadn’t even noticed him doing that. “Why did Brucy know what it is you do for a living anyway?”
Fortunately, you knew that question was likely to come up months ago, so you’d long ago thought of an excuse. “Did a job cleaning up one of those trust fund brigade’s messes after a particularly nasty party–”
“Ooh!”
“–and that apparently got me on his radar.”
“Never a dull day for a mercenary.”
“Or a madman,” you teased right back. “But be that as it may, I’m gonna enjoy having you all to myself until I have to go to that stupid party.”
“Never a dull day, indeed!” he cheered. “But for real, you gotta get a video or somethin’ if you fuck him tonight.”
You rolled your eyes even as you tugged at his boxers. It was an interesting thought. While you had first priority on the Joker when he was off the clock and a serious case of feelings for the clown, you were under no illusions that this was an exclusive thing. Physically, you sated each other easily. Emotionally, you were all the Joker needed (or wanted, for that matter), but he wasn’t crazy enough to think that he satisfied all of your needs. The whole comforting thing specifically was a weakness of his. You’d discussed all this (excluding the whole love issue) months ago at your insistence since you had no desire to earn the Joker’s wrath by having an affair.
Shoving all that aside, you just scoffed. “That man is infuriating.”
“And he has a crush on you. I can tell. We madmen have a … sixth sense for these things. Besides, the flirting was painfully obvious even from in here.”
“I’m not fucking Bruce Wayne.”
“Right. You’re fucking me!” Another hysterical cackle.
“Well …” you grinned, “I’m about to be, anyway.”
#joker x reader#the joker x reader#heath ledger joker x reader#batman x reader#batman imagine#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne imagine#sellyoursoulforarequest
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Traitor, Martyr, Spy Chapter 7: Home Sweet Home
Rating: Explicit (some chapters have smut)
Ship: Miranda Lawson x Femshep
AO3 Link: Here
Summary: The horror of Sanctuary behind them, Miranda’s ready to enjoy some peace and quiet with Artemis Shepard on her shore leave. But nothing is so simple, is it?
-*-
“You alright?” Miranda knows the answer before Artemis opens her mouth, but she needs to hear her talk about it.
Artemis herself paces back and forth out of the field of view. The dark, nondescript background doesn’t say much about where she’s at, but the spaciousness of it suggests her spectre office. Ah. That’s it. “Hackett grounded me.”
Miranda raises an eyebrow. “Are you in trouble?”
“No,” Artemis spits. “But they ordered the Normandy into dry dock, and Joker won’t fly his baby out until she gets serviced.”
“You want to go after Kai Leng.”
Screeching to a halt, Artemis gapes at her. “Of course, I do. You know what he’s capable of. And we finally have his location.” She pulls at her hair. “And I can’t do anything about it.”
How badly Miranda emphasizes with her. She wouldn’t have waited to go after her sister. Miranda didn’t wait to go after her sister. “You have the location of Cerberus Headquarters.” But that’s not what Shepard needs to hear. “The Illusive Man isn’t like the Shadowbroker. He doesn’t move around.”
Artemis’s lips curl ever so slightly, but she says nothing. Instead she sighs heavily. “All that to say. If you have time,” she scratches the back of her head, glancing away from the camera. “I got some too.”
Miranda leans forward, smirking. “Are you asking me out?”
Her lover furrows her brow. “Have we ever gone on an actual date?
Shit. She’s right.
-----
“Fix me something while you’re back there, would you?”
“Drinking in is not the same as going out, Miri.” Artemis ducks behind the bar anyway, rummaging around.
“Forgive me for wanting a moment with you. Alone.” Maybe she said that last part too strongly, for Shepard’s head pops around the bar, staring at her.
Their eyes meet, and Artemis scoots back into hiding. “I missed you too, Miri. Cocktails coming right up.”
“You don’t drink.”
“One mocktail and one cocktail coming right up.”
Miranda laughs out loud. “It sounds so filthy when you say it like that.”
“Thought you liked to get dirty.” She pops up, with two tumblers in hand.
“Only when you’re involved.”
Popping some bottles and cans on the counter, Artemis snickers. “Aww, I’m touched.” She stands up, mixing the drinks with surprising finesse. How many cocktails did she make and drink before she went sober? “So, what brings you over?”
“You invited me.”
“Oh! Right. You’re the one who called.”
Miranda clears her throat. “I heard some strange things in the news. And then you weren’t responding to coms for nearly a day. Something about a clone?”
Part of Artemis’s drink spills on the counter as she jolts. “That was on the news?”
“They had a field day. You alright?”
“Did you know about it?”
“I didn’t know what to make of the reports. You sounded like you had lost your mind.”
Miranda barely hears Artemis when she answers. “I mean about the clone.” Her eyes watch her closely as she continues. “She was a Cerberus project, wasn’t she?”
“It--she was a backup plan. In case I failed to bring you back.” Miranda rolls her eyes. “Which I knew wasn’t going to happen.”
Artemis stares at her glass. “But she was a whole person. And Cerberus just made her out of thin air.”
“We made her from your tissue. We’re not gods. Despite what the Illusive Man thinks.”
“Mm.” Artemis takes her drink with her, leaning against the floor to ceiling windows.
Miranda follows, sipping her own Old Fashioned. And then she sees the view. “Aww. They shut down my favorite sushi place.” They talk about Brooks, the exploding fish tank--sipping their drinks as the traffic flies by.
“How do I know you’re not a clone?”
Artemis smirks slowly, pulling her into a kiss full of heated promises. Who knows when they’ll see each other again? This whole night feels like a fever dream. Any moment they could wake up alone. Miranda means to make the most of it.
“A compelling argument.” Miranda matches her expression, eyeing her up and down. “But I’m not completely convinced.”
“Are we…?” Artemis sputters, but her eyes darken with want.
“Are we what, Artemis?”
She swallows and starts to look away as Miranda draws her attention back with her finger. “Is this...a scene?” A gulp. “A roleplaying scene?”
“Do you want a roleplaying scene?”
“Heh.” Artemis’s gaze falls on her lips, and then rises to her eyes. “Sounds fun. Are you gonna…?” She makes a face. “Gonna dominate me? Again?”
Miranda cups her cheek. “Do you want me to dominate you?”
Artemis’s cheeks color ever so slightly, and she nods. “Yes,” she says thickly.
“Dim the lights.” Miranda releases Artemis, trailing a hand down her chest. “In fact. Turn them off.”
“You catch that, Glyph?”
A floating ball of light floats toward them. “Right away, Commander.”
Miranda makes a face. “How long has it been watching us?”
Glyph turns its ocular lens toward her. “Not long, Operative Lawson. The Commander activated privacy mode before you walked in.”
“So, you’ll erase any information recorded for the duration of this visit?”
“Yes, Miss Lawson.”
“Good. Go back to sleep.” The VI dissipates in pixels of energy. In the now dimmed light, Miranda can only see her lover through the pink haze of the Silversun Strip. And not a soul can see them. Miranda leans her back against the glass, turning her gaze towards Artemis. “Now why don’t you continue with your reasoning.”
“Always the skeptic.” Artemis’s olive skin flares like hot coals in the filtered light. She starts at Miranda’s mouth, taking her time tasting her, before trailing her lips down her chin to where it meets her neck. Mm--she remembers that spot. Oh--and that other one where her neck met her shoulder. Why had Miranda avoided relationships for so long?
Miranda’s hand winds into her hair, pulling pin after pin out as Artemis makes her way down to her chest. Her hair finally comes free as her lips close around Miranda’s nipple. “Mm. Artemis.” Two eyes spark with mirth as she glances back up at her. Artemis lingers there, freeing her other breast so she can cup it with her hand. Neither satisfies her lover for long, and Miranda licks her lips as she watches her trail her kisses down to her belly button. She tries to stay in character, but Artemis doesn’t make it easy, her silver tongue outlining her argument across the carved lines of her abdomen, touching her nose just above where Miranda yearns for her to touch.
“Mm.” Miranda then swears under her breath, and Artemis grins against her, licking her lips before giving one wet kiss against her thigh.
“Still skeptical, love?” Artemis’s eyes glow with mirth.
“Mmhm.” She knows words. Lots of words. However, the only one coming to mind in this moment is fuck. But Miranda wants to draw this out. Tease Artemis while she teases her. But she’s making it so bloody difficult.
Artemis makes a point of sighing dramatically, letting her warm breath ghost between her thighs. “Fine, fine.” And she kisses her pussy again.
Bugger it all--why don’t these windows have grills? Or anything Miranda could hold onto? Her legs shake, and Miranda’s half-convinced they’ll pool into a puddle on the floor if Artemis isn’t more careful. “Oh god.”
“Shh. I got you.” Miranda swears to any deity who might possibly exist, Artemis bloody well holds her up with one arm, flexed and pressed against her stomach. If Miranda Lawson wasn’t a sodden mess before, she certainly is now. Bloody show off. Artemis uses her free hand to slip a finger or two inside her, and Miranda practically screams. Hopefully this apartment is more soundproof than the SR2’s cabin.
Artemis finally allows her to sink to the floor, and they cuddle together against the glass. “Convinced now?” She laughs, brushing the sweaty strands from Miranda’s face.
“Never doubted you.” Miranda takes her chin with one finger, pulling her into a breathless kiss. She can still taste herself on Artemis’s lips, and it stirs her loins anew. “Mm.”
“Even when we were enemies?” Artemis asks when she pulls back for air.
“Especially not then. I only doubted you’d keep from turning us in.”
“I would have if I could have, but I’m glad I didn’t.” Artemis pulls her into another kiss, and Miranda can taste her hunger. She’s hungry too, but she’s not going to take her on the living room floor--not in this lavish apartment.
But Artemis is ravenous, with the pull of Jupiter in her touch. “Mm,” Miranda manages as her lover nibbles on her ear. “Artemis….”
“Yeah?” Artemis brushes her fingers against the inside of Miranda’s thigh, and they both shiver.
Another moan slips out of Miranda’s mouth as she manages to tear her hands away. “Not here,” she says with her voice full of gravel.
Artemis pouts. “Fine, fine.” She rises from the floor as slow as a mountain, but she brings Miranda with her. “Where?”
“Have you even used any of your beds here?”
“They’re not my beds.” Artemis sobers, staring off into the kitchen. “They’re Anderson’s.” Perhaps sex against the living room windows wasn’t entirely Miranda’s idea after all.
He’s not coming back, Artemis, Miranda wants to say. She’s seen the reports of Earth. Concentration camps, indoctrinated governments, wholesale destruction of age-old cities--no one fighting back will live long, especially not long enough to return to a Citadel apartment. “They’re beautiful beds. He wouldn’t want them gathering dust.”
“A cleaning drone comes in once a week, but I get what you mean.” Artemis sighs, trailing her fingers along the piano keys, playing a scale without rhythm or direction.
Miranda joins her, wearing nothing but her bra, and she decides to put it to use--letting the lace brush up against her lover’s back. Her nose grazes the ridge of one of her ears. “Guest bed?” Baby steps.
Artemis closes her eyes, taking one breath and letting it out as she nods. “Alright.”
Taking her hand, Miranda leads her to the bed next to the shower.
-------
“How do you feel about bondage?” Miranda leans over Artemis, clasping each of her hands in her own. She straddles her, too, but only enough to let their bodies heat the air between them.
Artemis grimaces. “I’m not really a fan.”
Miranda suspects Artemis’s feelings go deeper than distaste, but she doesn’t press the issue. She’d much rather press other buttons. “Sensory deprivation?” Her breath ghosts over Artemis’s mouth, and her lover’s lips part in anticipation.
“Like a blindfold?” Artemis gazes up at her so softly and openly--not a view most people see. Perhaps it’s something she only shares with Miranda. Her heart aches at the thought--along with her loins.
“That’s one form, yes.” She turns her head, whispering into Artemis’s ear. “Would you like to try a blindfold?”
“Yeah.” Artemis swallows, but she doesn’t tense, not even when Miranda leaves the bed to procure a silk scarf. She saw some very nice silk ties but decided against it. Her lover would not appreciate seeing any of Anderson’s belongings in bed.
“Close your eyes.” Miranda straddles her, tying the scarf around her head, but not too tightly. “How’s that feel?” she whispers into her ears.
Artemis shifts beneath Miranda, her head turning each way as Miranda moves her hands up and down the sheets on either side. “Weird. But good. I think.” Goosebumps crest across her skin, and Miranda draws her biotics across them, from Artemis’s collarbone down to her hips, never quite reaching between her legs. “Mm,” her lover says, squirming a little. “Tickles.”
“In a good way?” Miranda whispers into her ear, letting her breath ghost across her skin.
“Y-yeah.” Artemis parts her legs, but Miranda doesn’t take the bait, not yet. She does travel down her body, breathing in the scent of her arousal.
“So wet already, and I haven’t even touched you.”
“Cheater,” Artemis mumbles.
Miranda sits up, and Artemis reaches for her. “Do you want me to stop?”
“No.”
“Then hold still.” Miranda soothes her hands, drawing them above her head, licking her lips at the way it stretches her abdomen. Unable to help herself, she traces her tongue across those muscles, reveling in the way Artemis twitches and moans. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispers, letting her fingers and wisps of her biotics travel down her thighs.
“Miri.” Artemis gasps, her hips lifting Miranda with her.
“So strong. And stubborn.” Miri pushes her back down, pushing her thighs farther apart. Mm. This angle won’t do for how long she’s going to be down here, so she shoves a pillow beneath Artemis’s firm ass, squeezing it for good measure before she lets her settle down. Blowing a puff of air against her inner thigh, Miranda pulls back.
Artemis groans, but she holds still, mostly.
“Patience,” Miranda murmurs, kissing the inside of her ankle, then her calf. Artemis’s pulse quickens as her mouth nears her core, and the heat between them rises. She pauses at her lover’s knee, sending biotic vibrations up her skin ahead of her mouth. By the time her lips meet the spot between her legs, Artemis’s breath has gone ragged, and her underwear is soaked. Pulling it out of the way, Miranda kisses her again, harder deeper, tracing her entrance with blue sparked fingers.
“Oh, fuck, Miri,” Artemis whimpers and begs. “I can’t.” One of her hands twists inside Miranda’s hair, and she looks up to see the other gripping the headboard for dear life.
“Yes, you can,” Miranda murmurs against her clit, kissing and sucking as her lover writhes beneath her. “Are you close, Ari?” She can already tell by the words slipping out of her mouth, but Miranda wants to hear her say it.
“Miri,” Ari’s fingers dig into her scalp, “yes,” she manages as her hips thrust into her touch. “So close.”
Miri lies beside her so she can watch her face, and she whispers against her ear. “Then come for me, Ari.” She twists her fingers, pulling on Ari’s clit with her biotics, and her lover’s whole-body arches toward the ceiling. When the orgasm fades, Miri dims the lights, and undoes the blindfold softy, bringing her back slowly.
“Damn,” she gasps softly, staring across the room as her breathing slows.
“That good, was it?”
Artemis swallows several times, looking over at her finally, her skin flushed. “I had no idea.” Her fingers touch Miranda’s face, before drawing her into a kiss, grinning as she tastes herself on her lips. “What you were capable of.”
“Few do.”
-------
Artemis stares at the displays of cabinetry, saying nothing. It’s not until Miranda taps her shoulder that she realizes her girlfriend is glaring at the varnish.
“Ari?” Miranda lays a hand on her shoulder.
Shaking her off, Artemis pulls back. “I can’t do this.” She heads toward the kitchen.
“Artemis, wait.”
“Miranda. This isn’t negotiable. Just leave it alone.” Artemis plops down on the kitchen island, holding a glass full of sparkling water. Her eyes distantly watch the bubbles pop.
Sighing, Miranda stops in her tracks, eyeing the stack of datapads next to the Normandy display. So much for making the apartment their own. It shouldn’t bother her so much. She’s never been much for interior decorating. But now Miranda has someone to decorate with, and it makes all the difference. Can’t Artemis see that? If Miranda helped jumpstart the process, maybe she would? Leaning over the table, Miranda reaches for an empty box, and the nearby rustle makes her heart sink.
The pile of datapads scatter off the desk, and Admiral David Anderson’s voice echoes throughout the apartment at full volume.
“.... Few people know what Shepard's been through.”
Artemis freezes, her eyes wide.
“I'd like to think I come pretty close. And I worry sometimes she forgets there's a whole bunch of people who lose sleep over her getting back home. Maybe it doesn't need to be said. Maybe--”
“Turn it off.”
“It fell on the floor.” Miranda says lamely.
Artemis slams her glass down, swerving off the counter and out of the kitchen. She kneels on the floor as all the datapads start playing Anderson’s voice all at once. Her arms shake as she tries to silence them one by one, but the stack keeps sliding out of her hands. Throwing one across the room, Artemis covers her ears, and her breath shakes. “Please turn it off.”
“Later.” Miranda touches her gently. “Let’s get you upstairs, away from the noise.”
Artemis jumps slightly, but she doesn’t pull away. “But--”
“Shh.” Miranda wraps an arm around her shoulders, guiding her to the room they slept in earlier--away from the master bedroom. She helps Artemis out of her clothes, and under the covers, jacking up the climate control so they can lie under all the blankets. “They’ll still be there in an hour.”
Her lover says nothing, only resting her head against Miranda’s chest. Tears drop one by one on her skin, but Miranda doesn’t say a word, just runs her fingers through Artemis’s hair until her breathing slows and her body stills. She’s almost asleep when Artemis finally breaks her silence.
“He was the one that found me after the Raids.”
Miranda frowns. “On Mindoir.”
“Yeah.” She burrows her head against Miranda’s collarbone. “He’s not coming back, is he.”
“There’s always a chance.”
“He’s on Earth, Miri. In the thick of it.” A sob escapes her mouth and her body shakes with the impact. “There’s no chance.”
Squeezing her tight, Miranda answers. “We never hand a chance, but we’re still here, aren’t we?”
Ari breathes in and out, mulling it over, or maybe remembering how she did everything short of mutiny on the SR2 when they first met. “Y-yeah,” she says thickly.
Miri takes a breath and lets it out in a sigh. “And you know what? If Anderson hates the new cabinet color, we can always change it back.”
Artemis snorts. “Fine.” Not that Miranda disagrees about Anderson. But if Commander Artemis Shepard loses faith, so does everyone fighting behind her, and Miranda’s fought so hard to get where she is now. She can deal with the bloody consequences of her lie later.
----
“You sure you want to go out?” Artemis lingers by the counter, leaning over it and bracing herself on her elbows.
“Ari. I did not buy this dress just to stay home.” They had finally finished refurnishing the place and making it their own, and it was nice, but good God, Miranda needed to see something besides that backsplash behind the waterfall before she changed her mind about the color again.
“To be fair--the last time I went out all fancy I destroyed your favorite sushi place, and someone died.”
“Wasn’t Elijah Kahn dirty?” Miranda also braces her elbows on the counter, her face inches away from Artemis’s.
Artemis doesn’t even bother to hide looking down at the windows in the front of her dress. Her next words come out warm and husky. “He’s still dead.”
Miranda runs her fingers down her lover’s forearm. “Like the dress? If you want to keep seeing me in it, you better take me out somewhere nice.”
Grinning roguishly, Artemis whispers. “Not like you’re going to be in that dress for long.”
“I didn’t even bring anything else to wear!” Miranda groans as Artemis starts pulling frying pans out of the cupboards. An apron goes flying towards her face.
“Wear that.”
Miranda holds out the apron in front of her like it’s been soaked in varren pee. “I don’t cook.”
“Oh, come on, it’ll be fun!” Artemis decides to help her with it, sliding it over her neck and tying it behind her back. She steps back, admiring her handiwork. “Damn. You look good in that.”
“Do you even know how to cook?”
“I know a few things.” Artemis turns away, pulling out pans and butter and various ingredients Miranda did not even realize Anderson had stocked in this kitchen. No. It’s been too long. Miranda’s girlfriend must have done it herself. When did she have time for grocery shopping? She tosses a dash of salt into the water to make it boil faster and gets to work opening a box of dry pasta.
“Could we at least go out for drinks after?”
Artemis stares at her, hearing the sharpness in her tone. “Miri?”
Miranda rubs her face, leaning heavily against the counter. “Sue me if I want to go out on a normal date with my girlfriend.” She’s probably making too big a deal of this, and Ari’s sure to notice. Why did she have to make such a scene?
Her lover says nothing, turning off the stove and settling next to her, squeezing her hand. “Did you have a place in mind?” She’s biting her lip, studying Miranda closely, her voice soft and quiet. Miranda almost has to lean closer to hear it.
“I hear the bar at the Silversun Casino has excellent drinks.”
“Do they have soda?” Ari traces the seams of Miranda’s dress with her finger.
“If they don’t I’m burning the place down.”
Artemis has to muffle her laughter into Miranda’s shoulder after that.
-------
Long after James Vega has made eggs, and Kaidan Alenko has made coffee, and Artemis and Wrex have fished Grunt out of the shower, and everyone has filed out of the apartment to pack their bags, Miranda lingers. She borrows the downstairs shower (it’s seemingly seen the least amount of action during that raging party), cleaning up with what she hopes is Ari’s shampoo. Miranda wouldn’t feel quite right using Kahlee Sanders’s stuff with everything going on.
With a pang, Miranda realizes she forgot to check on Ari after the party got going. She seemed...alright? Was she just faking it for her guests? Miranda hurries, probably missing some of the conditioner at the end, but it can’t be helped. Some things are more important than having perfect hair.
Wrapping a towel around her, Miranda finds Ari sitting by the window, a stack of datapads next to her, turned off.
“Want to talk about it?” Miranda sits next to her, handing her the mug of coffee that she had originally prepared for herself.
Artemis says it so quietly Miranda almost doesn’t hear her. “I listened to them. All of them.”
“Oh,” Miranda says softly. “Are you alright?”
Her lover’s face brightens like the sun. “Better.” She reaches over, hand still warm from holding the mug. “Whatever happens. I’m ready.”
“Me too.” Miranda kisses her, ignoring the nagging feeling. Surely this shore leave is just the dream. Only a matter of time before the nightmare follows.
#mass effect#shawson#shiranda#miranda lawson#femshep#melody writes#sorry for the super late update#this chapter was especially difficult to finish for some reason#but I hope/think the next two won't be so hard#we'll see
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Hi!!! I was wondering if you could do RFA + V headcanons on how they would take care of MC if she got really sick? Like horrible flu, sore throat, cough, stuffy nose, stomach flu? I've been really sick for the last 3 weeks and would love some tender lovin from the bois and baehee lol
Oh no, Nonny, I hope you feel better! Hot baths are really good for clearing airways. It’s the steam, I think??
Yoosung
Mother Hen Yoosung is activated!
He makes soup. Lots of soup.
Apparently it’s his grandmother’s great aunt’s recipe from god knows when
All you know is it tastes like gasoline and smells like a pharmacy
He’ll bundle you up in lots of blankets and take your temperature whenever you complain about his fussing.
“Yoosung, you don’t need to do-” “Of COURSE I DO, now let me take your temperature.”
Constantly letting you know that he is, in fact, studying medicine so you are in safe hands.
When you’re REALLY poorly, like groggy or coughing really hard, he’ll sit next to you and stroke your hair and/or back.
He’s completely in control of the situation while you’re awake and always reassuring you that you’re fine
The moment you’re asleep, though, he gets his mom (or Jaehee) on the phone like ‘;n; I’M SCARED WHAT IF SHE’S DYING’
Jumin
HA
The moment you so much as get a fever he’d call his doctor like
Fix her
I low key headcanon that Jumin’s doctor is equal parts done with his shit and terrified of him
So Jumin’s doctor would show up, explain what the problem is, like ‘ah it’s the flu, drink a bunch of fluids and you’ll be fine’
Meanwhile Jumin is hovering. He will not leave MC’s side.
He takes a couple of days off work and tends to MC’s every single whim.
He keeps track of their fluid intake; you know he would.
On Yoosung’s suggestion, he tries making soup and it’s terrible, but it’s such a sweet gesture that MC eats all of it and feels worse.
He insists on reading to you while you’re in bed and pretty much expires when you fall asleep on his shoulder.
Jaehee calls him to remind him that he is not a nursemaid and has other responsibilities at work, so he hires a nursemaid and stays home anyway to make sure they have a gentle bedside manner.
He’d constantly be following the doctor’s orders, but the moment your symptoms get even slightly worse, he’d have you taken to hospital and demand to know why you are still sick.
When the doctor sees him arriving he’s legit like oh fucK not again
Jumin will not sleep from the moment MC gets sick until they get better.
Jaehee
Jaehee would have a face mask and gloves on while in your company and she’d tell you it was nothing personal, but you’d get the feeling it sort of was
Still, she’d explain that she wanted to take care of you, but if Jumin caught your illness somehow...or she did (if you’re on her route)...or both...that would mean even more work for her in the long run, hence face mask!
She would not be home a lot of the time (regardless of her route or any other), but she would leave you plenty of stuff to eat and cute little post it notes around the house like ‘don’t forget to have a glass of water’ and ‘cough syrup x spoonfuls!’.
She’d also call you often, just to see how you were feeling and to check you got her note.
If you neglect her advice at any point, you won’t know how, but she’ll know.
She’ll show up on her lunchbreak with extra oranges for you to eat or a cake or something.
Jaehee is one of those people who measures your temperature by putting the back of one hand against your forehead and the other against her own
While you’re sick, she brings out every DVD she owns, all of which are also labelled with tiny post it reviews and explanations on which ones you HAVE to watch first.
At least one will be labelled ‘if you watch this, call me, I want your thoughts’.
Jaehee gently scolding MC if she catches them on the messenger when they could be sleeping, when really she’s relieved that they’re feeling better.
Zen
Zen has a gr9 immune system and rarely ever gets sick (and when he does, he works right through it).
As a consequence, though, he probably doesn’t know much about how to look after a sick person outside of the stereotypical and largely inaccurate stuff that happens on TV
He’d want to be perfect boyfriend in this situation and consider it a test, so would embrace all of the inaccuracy and tuck MC up in bed
He’d make tea, sing them to sleep and put a damp cloth on their forehead, since he saw it done on TV once.
Zen running MC at hot bath with lots of bubbles and cracking a joke about his inner beast to hide his genuine concern at the fact that they’re sitting there shivering.
Depending on how poorly he thinks they are, he might skip the gym to sit with them and go through his lines.
I feel like Zen would not know how sick most people can actually get, so he’d probably pull a Jumin and freak the fuck out
He has Jaehee on speed dial, you know it and she teaches him how to take MC’s temperature and the kinds of medicine he should get.
Seven
You probably got it off him to begin with.
He’d feel duty bound to look after you, even though he doesn’t have a clue how to do that. He probably falls deep into joker mode as a result.
He has the doctor costume and, if it makes MC feel better, dresses up as God Seven, md.
God Seven md diagnoses everything and everyone with diseases that probably don’t actually exist, much to the chagrin of the RFA.
If MC is into that sort of thing, he’ll put on a nurse’s pinafore instead.
Tucks them into bed and brings them meals on wheels.
Somehow the Honey Buddha Chips make Yoosung’s family soup palatable.
He films some of the dumb shit you say while lucid because of cough syrup.
If your symptoms get really bad and you’re essentially a steaming mess in the covers, he’ll drop joker mode and start acting erratic.
I’m talking end of Jumin’s route erratic.
Saeran
He’d avoid you!
You’d wake up in the middle of the night, convinced you saw someone, but finding the room empty.
You would also, however, find that your covers had been rearranged and your water bottle refilled.
Someone brought you a snack, too.
Gee I wonder who.
He’ll deny it.
V
I headcanon a lot that his mum was ill and that’s a decent percentage of the reason why he became so devoted to caring for Rika, so if MC gets poorly, he’d be very concerned, regardless of if MC is romancing him or not.
V in a sentence = 12/10 Great Dude with some unhealthy coping mechanisms.
He’d end up on the messenger an absurd amount, to the extent that everyone else questions it.
Especially Yoosung
All he’d want to know is how you’re doing. If you reference a symptom at any given point, he’ll ask you again about it an hour later.
He has flowers and soup sent to you, or if this is after his route
Yeah I said it
I went there
The Blue son shows up at your door himself with flowers and soup and tucks you into bed.
If you’re feeling so poorly that you can’t go on the messenger, I’m pretty sure he’ll show up anyway, just to make sure you’re okay because he is that kind of swell dude.
If you’re still planning the party at this point (again, who knows when this is happening???), he’ll finish up loads of work while you’re sleeping.
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