Fanfic writer with a passion for exploring romantic relationships // Fandoms: Horizon Zero Dawn, Mass Effect, and Dragon Age // Fandom: Dragon Age, Horizon Zero Dawn, Mass Effect
What I thought fanfiction was: Obsessive teenage fans writing about their fantasies.
What I’ve come to realise it is: Grown-ass women writing porn for each other.
Finished! ♥ Reyes is getting a little upset because of Liam, maybe I’ll write a short drabble if I find some time! The colors aren’t perfect, sadly I havent’ purchased the graphic tablet yet so I color with photoshop, lazo and the damn mouse 😦 I relaly like the finished product, I wanted to add some backgroud but I’m a bit lazy xD
today is fanfiction writer’s appreciation day, and I thought about what I wanted to do for today, but I decided that the best thing I could is this.
here’s for the writers that didn’t receive any asks today
here’s for the writers that didn’t make any appreciation list
here’s for the writers that weren’t mentioned anywhere
here’s for the writers that aren’t popular
here’s for the writers whose fics are never rec’ed
here’s for the writers whose fics have a low kudo/commenting rate
here’s for the writers that don’t get reblogs/likes
here’s for the writers that abandon their work half way because they think it sucks (spoiler: it does not)
here’s for the writers that were bashed for whatever they wrote
here’s for the writers that feel like giving up
here’s for the writers that feel anxious when they post a fic
here’s for the writers that struggle to write
here’s for the writers that never publish anything
here’s for all writers. No matter who they are, what fandom, what ship: you guys are amazing and you make fandom a better place.
Keep writing.
ALL WRITERS TOGETHER! So much love. Every piece we write is like putting a little piece of the deepest part of yourself on display for others to judge. Let’s always remember this and be kind and positive! ❤
the way garrus vakarian feels so deeply, truly angry at injustice, like it actually wounds him, and doesn’t understand how other people can sit still whilst it happens? the way garrus vakarian doesn’t know how to deal with his increasingly complicated and difficult feelings about family and expectations and instead just runs away? the way garrus vakarian thought abandoning all responsibilities to become a vigilante in a rundown shit hole, acknowledging that he’d most probably die exhausted, alone, barricaded in his own home whilst every crook and scumbag tried to break his door down, he thought that was a good idea? the way garrus vakarian enthusiastically throws himself into suicide mission after suicide mission on the Normandy to the point that without shepard he has to design his own one? the way garrus vakarian says ‘I just want something to go right in my life’ as if he’s unable to see all his qualities, his abilities, and achievements as anything but inadequate, as failures?
Today’s fanfic prompt was either Cannon or AU, and I’ve gone totally AU.
My biggest HC is that Reyes learned all his Charlatan tricks as Aria T’Loak’s protégé, then eventually escaped her by joining the Andromeda Initiative. This is a short story of what might have happened if Reyes had stayed on Omega as Aria’s number-one man instead of joining the Initiative. Some of it is adapted from my original Aria T’Loak/Reyes Vidal story.
Fair warning: I LOVE Reyes and I LOVE Garrus but in this story they go head-to-head. Oh dear oh dear oh dear what have I done…
2183 C. E.: Omega Station, The Milky Way
BLAM. A third and final shot rang out, and the merc towering over Reyes crumpled, bits of skull and blood sprinkling over the docks as he fell. Jesus, that was a close one, Reyes thought with relief as he stood shakily, but he wasn’t in the clear yet.
Being followed and jumped by three armed mercs on a deserted dock on Omega was not Reyes’ idea of a good evening. He probably could have handled the mercs by himself, though it would have been a close shave with them all being armed; but the person who had ‘saved’ him – clearly a sniper, from the precision of the shots and the fact that the shooter had not yet revealed themselves – introduced a new, totally unknown element of danger.
There. At the upper level ringing the docks, Reyes caught a hint of movement. A figure stood – a male turian, from the distinctive crest. He slung a Black Widow sniper rifle smoothly over his back, then made his way towards the stairs that led down to the docks level as he spoke. “Walking around Omega’s deserted docks at this hour is a good way to get yourself killed.”
Despite the turian’s blunt words, his polyphonic voice sounded kinder than the average turian’s… and unusually kind for Omega. He’s not a local either, Reyes thought. He slapped on a dorky, naive smile and replied, “Yeah, I’ve only been here a couple months – still don’t know where I’m going half the time. Don’t know how to thank you – I’d be dead if you hadn’t stepped in.”
The turian drew near, and Reyes examined his saviour curiously. The turian sniper sported blue clan paint over his malar carapace, and a distinctive, minimalist visor over his left eye – probably helps with aiming, Reyes thought with interest. The turian looked him over suspiciously and asked, “Are you hurt?”
Reyes shook his head. “I’m good, thanks. Really. That happened so fast.”
The turian continued to study him, a frankly mistrustful look on his face. “I’ve seen you with Aria T’Loak’s people. You’re falling into a bad crowd there. Maybe I should take you out as well.”
Fuck. Me, Reyes thought with a surge of anxiety. Time for some smooth talking. “I’m with the Alliance. I came here on a mission, but everything went wrong. Aria kept me as a prisoner and now I’m working for her… I didn’t know what else to do.”
The turian sniper eyed him with open suspicion, then gave a small nod. “Get off this station if you know what’s good for you,” the turian said sternly. He stared intently at Reyes, and there was a gleam of hardness in his eyes. “If I catch you involved in any criminal activity, I won’t be so lenient next time. Go.”
Reyes nodded emphatically. “Yeah, I’ll try and get out of here. Thanks again, I really…” But his turian saviour was already walking away purposefully. As the turian disappeared into the shadows, Reyes swallowed, then remembered that Anto, Aria’s second-in-command, must be waiting somewhere on the docks for him. He called Anto on his omni-tool.
Anto answered almost immediately. “What the fuck was that?” he hissed. “I hid when I heard the shots. How the fuck did you get out of that alive?”
“Some fancy talking,” Reyes replied, as relief began to finally wash over him, making him feel giddy. “Fanciest fucking talking of my life. Who even was that guy?”
Anto grunted. “We’ve been getting reports about that guy. You’re lucky you’re not dead, Vidal. You just talked your way out of being sniped by Archangel.”
********************
Garrus Vakarian melted into the shadows, the Black Widow on his back a comforting weight that reminded him of his purpose. Before she had died, Shepard had jokingly used the phrase ‘taking out the trash’ in reference to criminals getting what was coming to them. With a pang of grief, he thought of how she would have made some kind of joke about him being a garbage-man if she could have seen him now.
Three criminals down for the count in one night, Garrus thought to himself with grim satisfaction as he slipped through Omega’s alleys and corridors to his shitty studio apartment. That human that they’d been targeting, though… Garrus would have to keep an eye on that one. Maybe he was just an innocent, caught up in Aria’s criminal dealings… But innocence and good intentions could be sullied by greed and corruption in a heartbeat. Garrus had seen it too many times to really have faith in anyone anymore. Especially on Omega.
He stepped into his apartment and engaged the omni-lock, then fastidiously cleaned his Black Widow before racking it carefully on the wall. He was just preparing a light meal when his omni-tool pinged: Lantar Sidonis had arrived. Garrus swiped his omni-tool to let his compatriot in.
Sidonis stepped in and the two turians nodded to each other sharply, then Sidonis sat at Garrus’ spartan dining/kitchen table. “How did you fare today?” he asked. Garrus and Sidonis, friendly though they were, rarely bothered with small talk.
Garrus handed him a glass of water, then joined him at the table with his food. “Took out three would-be murderers today. Eclipse lackeys; no loss. Gathered more info on that protection racket in the Blue Suns’ territory, too. It’s run by a batarian named Niall. But it might be a while before we can take it down. I managed to help out a couple of the families in the meantime.”
Sidonis lowered his glass and gave Garrus a stern look. “You’re going to go broke if you keep doing this, Vakarian. You have to stay alive on this station, too. That means having a few credits in your pocket, not giving them all away.”
Garrus grunted. Sidonis wasn’t wrong; Garrus was dipping into his own savings to pay the families’ protection fees, and soon his credits were going to start dwindling dangerously. But Garrus didn’t see an alternative at this time. If I stop paying their fees, the parents will get murdered, then those kids will become orphans, then they’ll get picked up by the gangs… This is the only way to stop the cycle. Even if it’s temporary.
SIdonis eyed his friend for a moment longer, then chuckled, his flanged voice warm. “I understand you, Vakarian. I do. Once we have a bigger team, we’ll be able to do more. Just hang in there.” Garrus sighed and nodded, his mandibles flaring in a slight smile. Finally, he took a bite of his dinner. “What’s the progress on the team?” he asked Sidonis. Sidonis had told him he’d found another disgruntled justice-seeker who was sick of red tape and might be willing to join their crusade.
Sidonis nodded and brought up his omni-tool. “It’s looking good. I’ll send you the dossier. Here’s what I thought…”
The two turians worked into the night, planning their various missions to sweep Omega clean of crime. Garrus savoured the joy of justice, the grim satisfaction of having a clear purpose. And if sometimes there was a wave of another emotion, something darker and more tragic, accompanied by the bittersweet memory of a certain N7 commander with short black hair and intense green eyes, Garrus shoved it aside.
There was no time or place for grief or regret. Archangel had a purpose. He had to keep his mind, and his aim, sharp and focused.
******************
2184 C. E.: One year later…
Reyes tapped the counter of the bar in Omega’s marketplace and held up two fingers – two fingers of Macallan – to the quarian bartender. The bartender nodded briskly and slid a tumbler across the bar to Reyes, who lifted the tumbler and sipped it leisurely. Today was a relatively relaxed workday; he’d helped Cassian out with a quick interrogation this morning, signed a couple of smuggling deals, and now he was doing some casual info-gathering in the market, listening out for anything interesting – or treasonous – that could be valuable. After all, as Aria always liked to remind him, information was power.
Reyes was unobtrusively listening to the conversation of a couple of salarian businessmen when he felt someone sidle up beside him at the bar. He glanced to his left… and almost choked on the whiskey that was halfway down his throat as he recognized the person at his elbow.
Archangel. It had been something like a year since Reyes’ encounter with the turian vigilante. In that time, Reyes felt like he’d become a new man, stronger and harder with better survival instincts. Being Aria T’Loak’s number-one agent and fuck buddy could do that to a man. But Reyes had never quite been able to forget the night his ass was saved – and then almost killed – by the turian sniper with deadly accuracy.
Archangel stared down at him intensely. Turian facial expressions were not Reyes’ forte, but the look in Archangel’s blue-grey eyes was unequivocally hard and unforgiving. “I told you to get off this station if you knew what was good for you,” Archangel said. The hint of kindness that Reyes remembered in his voice was gone. I’m not the only one who’s changed and hardened over the past year, Reyes thought, at the same time as a chill rippled down his back at the turian’s obvious hostility. Reyes mastered his trepidation and gave Archangel a charming smile.
“Sorry, must have forgotten. How have you been? It’s been what, a year?” Reyes said smoothly, holding up a finger to the bartender and jerking his head at Archangel. The bartender immediately slid Archangel a shot of pale green liquor, but he ignored it, his attention fully on Reyes.
“You’re one of Aria’s main thugs. Your little story about the Alliance was a lie.”
The scorn in Archangel’s voice was like a whip, but Reyes ignored it. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was Aria’s prisoner a year ago, but he was starting to feel annoyed by the turian. Who the fuck did Archangel think he was? The ethics police? He wasn’t exactly innocent himself. After all, he’d shot three men in cold blood that night. Reyes was annoyed enough that he wanted to return the favour and annoy Archangel in kind. So he pouted mockingly. “That hurts my feelings. I like to think I’m more than just a thug. I’m a man of many talents. But you seem to know all about that already.” Reyes purposely looked away from Archangel, his facial expression bored as he sipped his whiskey.
He almost jumped at the sound of the turian’s flanged voice close to his ear. “The only reason you aren’t dead right now is that I don’t want to start a public brawl in the middle of the afternoon.”
Reyes felt a simmering rage at the turian’s holier-than-thou attitude. Quick as a flash, Reyes pulled a short knife from the sheath on his thigh and held it against Archangel’s abdomen… right in the space on the turian body that melted from carapace into more penetrable skin. Reyes stared up into the turian’s eyes, all pretense of joking charm replaced by a cold hardness that would have made Aria proud. “Unfortunately for you, I don’t have those kinds of qualms. So back the fuck off of me before I give the marketplace an in-depth lesson in turian anatomy.”
Reyes could feel Archangel’s stillness at the threat of the knife. The two men stared at each other, their eyes hard and furious… then Archangel took a small step back. Reyes quietly released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. When the turian spoke again, his voice was flat and ice cold. “You’re a dead man, Vidal. It’s just a matter of time. As soon as I catch you alone… you’re done.” Without another word, he strode away, blending seamlessly into the market’s multispecies crowd.
Reyes turned back to the bar and shot the rest of his drink in one gulp. The little altercation between himself and Archangel had gone unnoticed, but Reyes had to forcibly quell the slight tremble of his hands. Nowadays, death and dismemberment threats were a dime a dozen for Reyes Vidal, but somehow it was different coming from Archangel. That guy is dead serious, Reyes thought. He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to the turian during the year since they’d met. Archangel had been a vigilante, but his threat today had seemed more… personal.
Reyes shook his head, pushing the thoughts away. He’s just some washed-up vigilante, Reyes told himself as he swiped a generous tip to the quarian bartender and headed back to Afterlife. And yet, Aria had thought he’d be dead within weeks to months… and here he was, a year later, still going strong.
Maybe I’ll start taking more populated routes home, Reyes thought to himself. Just in case.
*********************
2185 C.E.: 8 months later…
Reyes sat back in the shuttle, totally at ease in his light armour and heavy weaponry. Fucking Archangel is done, he thought smugly. That asshole has shot me for the last time. Over the past few months, Archangel had made two attempts on his life. The first time, he’d shot off a chunk of Reyes’ left ear, and the second time he’d grazed his shoulder. Reyes’ paranoia and environmental awareness, and sheer fucking luck, were literally the only things that had saved him.
When Reyes had heard that the Blood Pack, Eclipse, and the Blue Suns were collaborating to take Archangel out, he had bought a bottle of whiskey for Anto and the boys to celebrate. And when he’d heard that the gangs were recruiting freelancers to join in the effort, he’d signed up immediately. Aria had given him one of her trademark you’re-a-fucking-idiot looks when he’d told her. “You’re going to die. Archangel’s already taken out dozens of mercs. It would be amusing if it wasn’t such a fucking waste.” She’d leaned back in her office chair, naked and post-coital, and eyed him skeptically. “You’re just going to be so much more rotting meat on the boulevard if you go.”
Reyes had leaned down and kissed her hard on the mouth, then left, his stride purposeful. “I’ll bring you back a piece of his carapace as a souvenir,” he called cockily over his shoulder. As the door closed behind him, he’d laughed at her response: “I’ll start interviewing replacements for your job.”
So now Reyes sat in the shuttle with a handful of other mercs, flying out to the rendezvous point. Across from him sat a striking woman in her early 30s wearing an impressive set of blood-red heavy armour, incongruously flanked by a pretty, wide-eyed asari and a gorgeous dark-haired human woman in a skintight black-and-white bodysuit. The armoured woman nodded briefly to him, her green eyes watchful and calm. “What brings you on this mission?” she asked him casually.
Reyes smirked and pointed to his mutilated left ear. “Archangel took a piece of me. Figured it’s time I returned the favour.” He cocked his head to the side. “You?”
The woman gave a faint smile. “Credits. I’m hoping for a big payout from this.”
“Nice try,” Reyes drawled, his eyes sliding over her, from her short crop of black hair to the tips of her blood-red armoured toes. Her gear was high-end with hardly any signs of wear. “Your shit is brand new. What’s your angle?” Reyes’ tone was playful and flirtatious, but he was genuinely curious… and a touch suspicious. Wouldn’t hurt if he could gather some intel on this woman in case Aria wanted to keep an eye on her.
The woman in red smiled, and her eyes sparkled playfully. “Aren’t you the curious one?” she remarked, the sound of her calm, throaty voice making Reyes smile. “Maybe I wanted to meet the interesting rabble who would sign up for a suicide mission.” She raised one eyebrow, and her dark-haired colleague gave a tiny cough that somehow managed to convey a lifetime’s worth of disapproval. Reyes laughed, reacting to both the woman’s banter and to her colleague’s displeasure. This woman in red was so self-possessed and confident. Reyes liked it.“You might think I’m rabble now, but I’m sure I’ll change your mind,” he purred, then impulsively he added, “Let me buy you a victory drink after this.”
The woman exchanged a tiny, sardonic smile with her asari companion, who smiled back innocently. Then she turned back to face him. “A victory drink. It’s a plan,” she said, and there was a clear undertone of amusement in her voice. Reyes winked at her, amused when the brunette rolled her eyes. “I’m Reyes, by the way. Reyes Vidal,” he said, extending a hand to her.
She took his hand with an impressively firm grip. “Adriana. Adriana Shepard.”
*******************
Garrus slumped behind cover, taking a moment to catch his breath. He was exhausted. He was running out of ammo and genuinely wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out against the gangs’ onslaught. It was clever for them to recruit desperate mercs; throwing bodies at him was an extremely crude strategy (Garrus could hardly bear to call it a strategy at all), but unfortunately effective over time. He was starting to wear down.
Another surge of rage towards Sidonis blew through him, and he took a measured breath to control his anger. If I get out of this alive, I will make it my life’s mission to hunt that traitor down, Garrus thought to himself. But first, he had to get out of this alive… and therein lay the problem.
Another wave of mercs was advancing along the boulevard; Garrus could hear them coming. He using his scope, he peeked over his cover to get a look at what he was facing. A scattering of LOKIs, a handful of ragged batarians, a turian or two, a heavily armoured human… Wait. That garish red armour…. Garrus used his visor to zoom closer on the tiny emblem at the collar of the armed human’s breastplate.
Wait. Is that…? No. It can’t be.
The tiny emblem on her red armour: N7.
Garrus experienced a rush of adrenaline so strong it was practically orgasmic. He only knew one person who wore that eye-watering shade of red armour. But he still couldn’t believe his eyes. Shepard’s dead. She’s dead. She can’t be here… How is that possible? Hope and pessimism warred in his chest as he watched the red-armoured figure more closely. Spirits, he thought in growing amazement. The way she moved, even the twitch of her head to the left then the right before she began to lope up the boulevard…
It’s her. Shepard is alive.
Garrus was galvanized. His energy and determination restored, he looked through his sights with fresh focus… and recognized another familiar human. Reyes Fucking Vidal. In his excitement at recognizing Shepard, Garrus had ignored the man she was running beside… the man who was unwisely not wearing a helmet. Reyes smiled and said something to Shepard and lightly hit her in the arm, and Garrus narrowed his eyes and the slimy, charming vorcha.
With renewed focus, Garrus loaded a round into his faithful Black Widow, focused his aim at Reyes’ dark-haired head, and smiled.
Today’s fanfic prompt was a White Lie or a Hard Truth. I chose to go with lies, and to explore his relationship with his “ex-girlfriend”, Zia Cordier, a bit more closely.
Reyes goes a bit dark again today, and shows himself to be a bit of a douche before Ryder met him. (What can he say, he’s a handsome bastard, right?)
Lies.
Little white lies, total misinformation and misdirection, twisting the facts, subconsciously planting suggestions, lies of omission… Reyes Vidal was a master of them all.
Especially the little everyday kind of lie.
“What are you doing later?”
“I’m busy,” Reyes replied, not bothering to look at Zia as he pulled on his gloves. “Business deal. Might run late, but I’ll call you when I’m done.” Three short sentences, and three little lies: he was planning to work all night, but he didn’t have a meeting. There was nothing to run late. And he definitely wouldn’t be calling her later.
Fully dressed, he finally turned and gave her a charming smile… a smile that didn’t quite reach his cold bronze eyes. Zia was naked, lying on her side in bed, her eyeliner smudged, her bright red hair in disarray as she smiled up at him. Reyes liked Zia. That is, he liked her as much as he liked any other attractive woman: enough to sleep with her, enough to work with her, but not enough to be bothered otherwise.
He leaned down and gave her a perfunctory kiss on the lips, then headed towards the door. “I’ll call you,” he promised, then left with a casual wave goodbye.
Another lie. Easy as breathing.
Reyes gave a heavy sigh of annoyance and ended his omni-tool call. “Fuck’s sake, Zia,” he muttered.
Reyes and Zia had worked together on a few trades and deals, but she was slipping in her role with their current ongoing ‘contract’: smuggling ammo. They stole from the Nexus and the Outcasts’ supply lines, then sold the ammo back out to Kadara’s exiles (and the Collective, of course, unbeknownst to Zia), as well as to H-047c and the exile shuttles that stopped by in the port.
Zia had introduced Reyes to the primary ammo supplier they worked with. And somehow she thought that entitled her to 50% of the profits, Reyes thought snidely, when in reality, that had been her only significant role in this deal: Reyes had been the one to arrange the trade routes, vet and hire the pilots, grease Colt Dalton’s palms and the other port staff to ensure they’d look the other way, set up the Collective spies to infiltrate Sloane’s ranks, and pay Kian to hold the ammo in Tartarus. All Zia had to do was tell him when the new shipments were due to arrive, and this was the second time she hadn’t done so.
She was lucky I even agreed to give her as much as 15% of the profits in the first place. She’s not worth what she’d paid, he thought, anger starting to simmer. He’d just received an irate call from Dalton complaining that other shuttles were being held up, and when the fuck was someone going to come and pick up the definitely-not-a-shipment of definitely-not-stolen goods that Colt definitely knew nothing about?
Reyes pursed his lips. He did not like when his business drew attention. He was going to have to cut her out of this deal. And dump her, of course. Nothing turned him off faster than laziness, sloppiness, and stupidity, and it seemed that Zia might be a combination of all three. He sent her a message asking her to meet him at Kralla’s Song for drinks that evening. As he knew she would, she sent him back an affirmative almost immediately.
That evening, he arrived at Kralla’s late as per his usual, and sat down at the corner table where she was waiting. “Reyes,” she purred, her face lighting in a flirtatious smile. She shifted towards him on the bench until their knees were touching, but Reyes moved his knee away. “You failed to tell me about the shipment yesterday,” he said without preamble, not even bothering to greet her.
Zia sighed, then swore. “Merde!” She tapped her omni-tool. “It’s that asshole Robert. It was his job to notify me. I’m sorry, Reyes. I’ll take over that job. It won’t happen again.”
“That’s true; it won’t. You’re no longer a part of this deal. This little fuckup proves that it would run more smoothly without you. I found another contact who will tell me when the shipments come. I’ll send you your cut for this week, then no more.”
Zia stared at him, her face slack with disbelief. Then she laughed – a hard, grating sound. “You’re fucking joking, right?”
Reyes stared back at her, his face blank. Even if it wasn’t her mistake directly, it meant she didn’t have control over her people. And Reyes couldn’t respect someone who didn’t have the respect of her own employees. “Nope. We nearly got outed because the shipment sat there for almost 24 hours without being picked up. It’s bullshit, Zia. I can’t have that.”
Zia slammed her fist on the table. Nobody noticed; slammed fists, yelling, and scuffles were a dime a dozen at Kralla’s. “You wouldn’t even have that fucking business if it wasn’t for me, you greedy son of a bitch!” she hissed. “You’re just trying to cut me out of my own goddamned deal!”
Reyes shook his head pityingly. “If I hadn’t cleaned up after your mistake, twice, neither of us would have any profits, and Sloane’s people would probably be beating our asses for quietly stealing from them. So, no. You’re out. I’m sorry.” Another lie; Reyes didn’t care, but an apology could sometimes soften the blow.
Zia laughed bitterly; apparently his sorry wasn’t enough. “You selfish, greedy, traitorous motherfucker,” she hissed. Reyes noted the tears in her eyes. “So what, that’s it? You’re finished with me? Just like that?”
Reyes nodded again; both of them knew that this meant the end of their liaison as well as their business. “I’m sorry, Zia.” More lies.
Zia shook her head, raising her eyes to the ceiling to fight back the fall of tears. She gave a little snort of laughter, and Reyes could hear the tiny sob hidden there. She stood and slid out from behind the table, then looked down at him, her face twisted with pain. “You’re a selfish, cruel fils de pute, and one day you’ll be sorry. Did you hear me?” she yelled as Reyes didn’t bother to look at her. “I said you’ll be sorry!” She raised her fist to strike him.
Reyes sighed inwardly, his anger starting to boil, stirring the darkness of the Charlatan. He could grab her fist, tackle her to the ground, even slit her throat before she even knew what was happening, but he had to keep up his appearances as the simple, charming, well-connected smuggler. The time wasn’t right to show who he really was. So he took a deep breath through his nose, swallowed his anger and allowed her to swing at him, blocking her fist with his forearm. She hauled her arm back again, and Reyes permitted her to slap him across the face. Then he stood slowly, his patient, calm persona masking the violent darkness of the Charlatan just beneath. “Just leave, Zia,” he said, his voice purposely dripping with pity. “Before you embarrass yourself further.”
Zia’s chest heaved with emotion; indeed, they had collected a small, drunk audience of melodrama lovers. Zia swallowed hard, her eyes still hot with tears, then finally turned on her heel and stormed towards the stairs.
“Take care of yourself,” he called after her, rubbing salt in the wound… and purposely reinforcing his reputation as the always-joking, never-serious fuckboy. Lies. All lies. He strolled over to the bar and held up a finger for Umi.
Umi rolled her eyes and slid him a cup with two fingers of whiskey. “That was cold,” she said. There was no judgment in her tone; only a statement of fact. He liked Umi for that; she was blunt and matter-of-fact, and didn’t seem to give a shit about anyone. Reyes shrugged. “I know. I’m such a mean bastard,” he said, and gave Umi a flirtatious grin. She stared back at him, her arms folded, totally unimpressed. “You’re also a cheap bastard,” she replied. “You never pay your damn tab.”
“And yet, you’ve never threatened to cut my balls off like you have all the others,” he chuckled, leaning his elbows on the bar. “Why is that, Umi?”
Umi scoffed and opened her mouth, no doubt to deliver a scathing reply, but a crowd of salarians stumbled over to the bar and started yelling orders. Umi threw him a look of deep annoyance, then started filling orders. Reyes chuckled, chugged his whiskey, then turned to leave. “I’ll pay you next time,” he called to Umi as he walked away. “I promise!”
He heard her colourful curse of a reply and chuckled again. Another little lie; unfortunately, he rarely paid Umi, all for the sake of his reputation as a shady wastrel. But what Umi didn’t know was that she actually got a major discount on all her stock, thanks to him (and with some enthusiastic help from Coleman Barnett, who was obviously smitten with her). A benign deception, for once.
As he reached the top of the stairs of Kralla’s Song, a salarian at the railing stopped him. “Hey. Interested in joining the Collective? We might be able to use someone who can keep a cool head and quell such a – shall we say… emotional display… with your kind of calm.”
Reyes smiled and shook his head. “No, I don’t want to get involved with turf wars. But thanks for the offer.” He walked out the door and headed for his apartment in the port.
That was the biggest lie of all. Nobody was more involved in the Collective than Reyes Vidal. And when the time was right, the Charlatan would reveal a truth-bomb that nobody realized: that Sloane Kelly was a dead woman walking.
Today’s fanfic prompt was to write about summer heat or winter snow. Writing about Reyes in the summer is easy since he is HAWT… so I went with snow today. Enjoy!
(Above is a pic of Iceland. Voeld’s sky reminded me of the aurora borealis!)
“This place is a fucking wasteland,” Reyes said in horror… and shivered.
The expanse of snow that stretched before him was unending. The whiteness rippled in hills and dunes (is it still called a dune if it’s snow instead of sand? Reyes wondered), and Reyes knew there were snow-covered mountains here, as well as frozen lakes adorned with unusual icy spires. The sky was nice, he supposed, rippling with blues and greens like pictures of the aurora borealis back on Earth… but all he saw was a horrific wasteland. When he’d told Mara he wanted to see what it was like running everyday Initiative errands, he hadn’t meant here.
“It’s fucking freezing,” he called over to Liam as the enthusiastic young man hopped out of the Nomad. Liam laughed. “Should have been here before the Pathfinder fixed the vault,” he replied, then slapped Reyes on the back. “She told you to dress warm!”
“I did,” Reyes grumbled, rubbing his hands together and grudgingly pulling up his hood. He was wearing a parka, waterproof insulated boots, gloves, and a muffler, but he was still cold. He wished he had followed Mara’s advice to wear snowpants and a tuque. Should have swallowed my vanity, he thought ruefully as he struggled through the snow in Liam’s wake.
Jaal caught up to Reyes. “I would lend you my rofjinn if I could, but I don’t know you well enough yet. I’m sorry.”
“Uhh, thanks. I guess it’s the thought that counts,” Reyes replied, one eyebrow raised in amusement. Even my eyebrows feel like they’re freezing. Who the fuck would choose willingly to live here? he thought in disgust.
Liam looked back and seemed surprised to see Jaal and Reyes so far behind. “What’s the hold up, guys?” he yelled, his voice just audible over the howling wind.
Before Reyes could reply, Jaal spoke. “Reyes does not seem to know how to walk in the snow. I thought I should stay with him in case he falls.”
Reyes stared at Jaal, affronted… then almost tripped as he failed to fully remove his foot from a deep pile of snow before trying to step forward. Liam gave him a weird look. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you walking like that?”
Reyes pursed his lips in annoyance, then grudgingly he admitted the truth. “I’ve never seen snow in real life. I saw pictures and vids, but… not in real life.”
Liam’s eyebrows shot up high on his forehead with surprise. “Seriously? Even with the Alliance? You never saw snow?”
Reyes shook his head. “No. And clearly I wasn’t missing anything. Forget fire and brimstone: this is what hell would be if there was one.” He looked around, his nose wrinkled in disgust. Then he took another step forward – or attempted to, but had to windmill his arms to keep his balance as his foot lifted more quickly from the fluffy snow than he expected it to. He shoved his hood back so he could see, then turned to Jaal and Liam, his chin raised confidently. “I’m not going to fall,” he said with dignity.
His companions snorted with laughter. “Okay man, whatever you say,” Liam chuckled. “Let’s drop off this shipment, then we can go warm up at Taerve Uni.”
Reyes almost asked if he could just wait in the Nomad. Almost. Then he thought of what Mara would say if she knew he hadn’t even bothered to see Techiix… and slowly followed Liam, Jaal walking solicitously at his side.
Reyes had to admit that the small settlement was interesting. While Jaal and Liam met with the supplies manager and rustled up a couple of workers to unload the shipment from the Nomad, Reyes chatted with some of the other angara in the settlement and even set up a little trade deal to exchange angaran comforts from Voeld for Kadaran resources. It didn’t hurt his morale that the settlement was liberally scattered with space heaters.
His personal business concluded, Reyes turned and headed back towards the Nomad, where Liam and Jaal were assisting the workers at removing the shipping crates from the Nomad. Jaal and Liam were chatting and laughing, then suddenly, they both looked over at Reyes… and Reyes narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the laughter in their faces. His suspicion deepened when Liam bent over, his eyes still on Reyes, and gathered some snow in his hands. Liam started shaping the snow into a ball…
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Liam was going to chuck a snowball at him. And he wouldn’t be able to shelter in time, with the deep snow making it hard for him to move. Sure enough, Liam cranked his arm back and whipped the snowball at Reyes. Reyes shielded his face, but the snowball hit him square in the shoulder, exploding in a cold cloud of powder.
“Chinga tu madre, pendejo!” Reyes blurted. Liam was doubled over in laughter, Jaal slapping his back with hilarity. Clearly Reyes was out of his element in this hellish environment, but with Liam distracted…
Reyes took a deep breath, then pelted towards the younger man as quickly as he could. Jaal looked up and saw him coming, and with a grin, stepped away from Liam. Then Liam looked up… just in time for Reyes to slam into him, his shoulder to Liam’s stomach, tackling the younger man to the ground. Snow flew up in a fluffy cloud as Liam groaned, the breath punched out of him by the force of Reyes’ tackle. “Urrrrnghhh,” Liam gasped when he was finally able to take a breath.
Reyes stood and brushed off his pants, then picked up a handful of snow and sprinkled it on Liam’s face. Liam squeezed his eyes shut against the cold flakes. “Aww man, really? You gotta rub it in while a man’s down?”
Reyes smirked. “You have to learn your lesson. Don’t fuck with the Charlatan, cabron.” Liam opened his eyes and scowled petulantly at Reyes, who winked roguishly at him… then swaggered towards the Nomad, pausing only to slap Jaal amicably on the shoulder, who was now crying with mirth.
Reyes hopped into the Nomad and turned the heat to full blast. Mara told me to bond with her squad, he thought smugly. I’m sure this is exactly what she had in mind.
The Sharper Edge of Love: Romance, Sex, and Fanfic 