#Sleep Deprivation Effects

[solhwellness]

Sleep Deprivation: Impact on Cognitive Performance and Focus | Solh Wellness

Sleep is necessary for the brain and affects cognitive performance. Different stages of sleep, such as REM and NREM, aid in cognitive enhancement. When you don't get enough sleep, your brain overworks and becomes inefficient, resulting in poor thinking and information processing. Inadequate sleep, also known as sleep deprivation, can manifest itself in a variety of ways, including short or fragmented sleep, and can result in immediate consequences such as decreased attention and reaction time. Chronic sleep problems can impair daily tasks, and sleep deprivation increases the risk of cognitive decline and dementia over time.

The Effects of Sleep on Cognitive Performance and Focus

Problems with Brain Function

Sleep deprivation has been linked to a number of negative effects on cognitive functions mediated by various brain regions. While studies on the effect of sleep on cognition have yielded inconclusive results, this variability could be attributed to a number of factors, such as participant characteristics, differences in sleep manipulation protocols, or variations in cognitive outcome measures. Nonetheless, most researchers agree that a lack of sleep can impair cognitive performance.

Diminishes Placekeeping

Placekeeping is a cognitive function that entails maintaining and updating information in working memory while performing a series of tasks. Cooking a meal or putting together furniture, for example, necessitates multi-step instructions. Placekeeping is also essential in motor skills such as musical instrument playing and sports that require coordination and timing. Sleep deprivation or disruption can impair the brain's ability to consolidate and retrieve information, resulting in poor performance in tasks that require placekeeping, such as completing a complex project, following a recipe, or keeping a steady rhythm while playing music. In some cases, interrupted sleep can impair speech production and communication effectiveness.

Decision-Making Impairment

Sleep deprivation can cause dysregulated emotional responses, impairing judgement. People who are sleep deprived are more likely to make risky decisions and to become fixated on potential rewards while ignoring potential consequences. It can be difficult to learn from these mistakes because sleep deprivation impairs the brain's ability to process and consolidate emotional memory.

Influence on Memory

Poor sleep can impair memory consolidation by interfering with normal processes that require both NREM and REM sleep to form and retain memories. NREM and REM sleep have been shown to be important in this process. According to research, people who are sleep deprived are more likely to form false memories. Furthermore, even if a person gets enough sleep, a person's memory consolidation can be hampered by fragmented sleep.

Conclusion

Sleep deprivation can have an adverse effect on a person's day-to-day life. If you notice any of the above symptoms, you should seek medical attention. Solh Wellness offers individuals in need of personalised, affordable, and easily accessible mental health solutions. We strive to provide the best mental health care possible to those in need. Download the Solh Wellness App to improve your sleeping habits, mental health, and overall well-being.

[the-girl-with-too-many-ideas]

Shen Yuan's life would have actually been far more difficult if he was the only transmigrator. Instead of airplane, he would have been dealing with an active and malicious spy who would not have hesitated to take advantage of him and his situation.

Either he believes the entire amnesia story or picks up that SY is an imposter. Maybe even both. He believes the amnesia first but then realizes something more is going on when he tries to take advantage of the so-called "amnesia."

Whatever the case, Shen Yuan's life would have gone from easy mode to medium or even outright hard.

[lazycranberrydoodles]

you’d think after 800 years he’d learn his lesson about taking afternoon naps. / prev comic / follow for more sleepy xie lian

[marvel-lous-guy]

Tony: The compound has been quiet recently. It's both unsettling and refreshing

Peter: Its not been quiet, you just haven't left your lab for 76 hours

[qwlwx]

it’s also fine if you just don’t vibe with the character lol but the Vulpes fucker community would welcome you with open arms

as my way to thank the vulpes inculta fan community for their kindness and patience i decided to gift them a doodle of vulpes inculta posing as the nesquik rabbit

[incorrect-hs-quotes]

ERIDAN: i lovve you…

FEFERI: Swordfis)( slas)( to the c)(est. And you’re on fire.

[post-it-notes7]

huh, so mir falspar wasn't sleeping due to Nightmares? we know he'd already been working himself ragged, but how closely did this latest version of insomnia match up with mir arthur's offer? (if so is it also safe to guess that timing lined up with his latest 'breakup' as well then..?)

Spot on anon, Mir Arthur's offer was about a week old when Mir Falspar finally hit his limit and found himself passing out and waking up in the infirmary (he's still not quite sure how he got there).

Mir Falspar wasn't necessarily sleeping well before that (the dreams aren't exactly a... new problem) but that was one of the worst bouts he's had in recent times. Mir Dragato thinks he only gets the occasional nightmare, just on the rough nights.

Mir Falspar would rather keep the true extent of it to himself.

[saturnniidae]

Sorry. Thinking about Toga's accidental autism again

She is a classic case of character that acts weird because they weren't socialized properly/had a fucked up childhood but whoops you just made them autistic.

She struggles to understand the difference between platonic and romantic attraction/affection and thinks being fond of/attracted to someone means she has to not only be like them but become them in a literal sense

Learns via mimicry hence the above points and her particular fixation with Ochako and Izuku since they're some of the few people her age she's seen show signs of unconditional kindness with their friends

Wore a 'mask' trying to conform to the behavioral expectations of her peers and parents and was miserable until she couldn't keep going

Goal is to make the world an easier place for her to live and be herself

As a little kid she bit herself to drink her own blood (reads as unsafe stimming to me ngl)

Shes seen more than once shaking her hands when excited (also stimming)

Got called demonic and inhuman as a little kid due to her unusual behavior (honestly reminiscent of how autistic/disabled kids would be accused of being changelings and stuff for their 'unnatural' way of being and unfortunately this is still a sentiment some hold even now)

Immediately written off for her behavior, never had why it wasn't okay fully explained and was never given a chance

Nonexistent emotional regulation due to the above point. Hence why atp she embraces inflicting pain because she was never taught how to use her quirk in a controlled environment or safe way

Quite literally autistic child failed by the system (quirk counseling or whatever)

Toga is a weird girl among weird girls, a little freak I hold dear in my heart..

[brucenorris007]

It doesn't take Blaze long, after she agrees to help and crosses dimensions, to realize that Silver isn't doing well in his fight against the beast called Iblis.

His efforts are heroic, there's no question; but his methods leave. . . something to be desired.

He never hesitates, which means he doesn't plan; and despite whatever injuries he might have or the fact that since returning to his world he hasn't stopped coughing for more than thirty minutes at a time, he pushes himself like he's the image of perfect health.

He's younger than Blaze.

On the fourth day of their collaboration to save his world, he raced into an actively collapsing building to rescue people trapped inside; debris blocked Blaze from entry before she could follow or stop him.

She doesn't know all that happened inside while she'd been searching for another way in, calling Silver's name and receiving no answer; the end result was that minutes later, the bright glow of Silver's psychokinesis encased the whole structure. Eight ran outside as several dozen tons of cement and steel slowly rose into the air.

Silver was not among them.

Blaze found him blacked out on his feet, arms shaking and his nose bleeding profusely on the ground. She just barely managed to carry him to safety as the light from his powers faded and the building came down.

And, when he regained consciousness, he was so. . . nonchalant about it. Only asking for confirmation that everyone had gotten out.

For reasons Blaze couldn't name, that had been the straw that made her snap and scold him for his recklessness. She knows well of duty, and the necessity of sacrifice; she doesn't know why the sight of Silver being so cavalier with his life in favor of helping others chafes her the way it does.

For all that, she manages to instill a least a smidgen of caution in him; enough to at least spare her a glance and a moment before he charges forward.

And if nothing else, she teaches him the breathing techniques she uses to keep her lungs clear in the smoke.

@generic-sonic-fan

[overly-verbose]

Omw to a verrrry important exam rn, pls send thoughts prayers and good vibes my way 'cause I did nOt sleep well 💀

(also obviously if it goes well I'll have an easier time actually focusing on finishing Part 8 so uh there's the bribe lol

[puppetmaster13u]

I just wanted to draw Batgirl Barbara with some Oracle vibes, like an inbetween stage of sorts.

Au is by @phoenixcatch7 and you need to check them out if you haven't <3

[partial-prints]

Long cold winter or something idk

Came to me as a vision at 3 am

Based on this album:

[quinn-pop]

uhh. i accidentally made another comic. future au strikes back

(pt 1/3)

a question - 1 2 3

[catguangcorner]

i know we link clickers are a fan of nightmares and hurt/comfort so have we considered a post s2 qiao ling having constant nightmares of all the memories xixi passed onto her like wouldn't that be fun wouldn't that be great

[bidokja]

posts about kim dokja kinnie antics are always funny as hell but they never really stick with me because i simply cannot picture anyone in orv knowing the word "kinnie" other than lee jihye and uriel.

[shittybundaskenyer]

✹ ▬ 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐒

rating: Explicit pairing: Female Shepard x Garrus Vakarian summary: the Mako breaks down in a snowstorm on Noveria. Shepard is stuck with her turian friend after some things went sideways in one of the research labs. warnings: first time gone wrong (but then so right), sex pollen, so much kissing, just pure smut (what do you want from me??), does doing it in the Mako is considered car sex?, interspecies sex, love confessions, so much fluff, Garrus is too sweet for his own good word count: 3831  

a/n: I had Mass Effect Legendary Edition on my PC for like a year and I'm now cursing myself why I've waited for so long to play the trilogy. The Bioware brainrot took me once more under its influence so I guess I'm going back to my roots. This is almost entirely is pure smut, I guess I can't write anything else nowadays but I'm embracing it now. So have this very rusty, messy love scene I wrote in a frenzy after finishing the trilogy. <33

MASTERLIST   |   ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

Noveria is cold and white and still beautiful in that strange way only death can be. It became the noose woven around Garrus’ own neck too, when it twirled his fate and Shepard's own together in form of a messy string. 

It only started becoming strange when Shepard started to tear her armor off of her body, but by then all common sense was out, laying dead in the relentless snowstorm. She became feverish, smelling so sweet, like summer, like sun-warmed earth, like arousal that Garrus had realized all too late. They were warned by the dangers of the labs surrounding Peak 15, the tower that was like an old pine ringed by fungi, all the rot and unethical discoveries blooming under the disguise of neat little buildings that twinkled in the darkened landscape—a constellation hiding in a thick cloud of dark matter. 

He knows she was curious. He knows she only wanted to help, but Spirits, it will be the death of her one day, N7 or not, she’s only human. And she’s fragile, a goddamn glass cannon that can blow up the whole universe and crumble from hands that grip her a bit too tight at the same time. 

Liara’s warning came too late, they had to cut to the chase and there was no time to think about the consequences of Shepard's stray shot breaking open the containment cell of an unnaturally lush, succulent little flower in one of the labs. It didn’t set in until they were in the Mako and she steered the dumb tank even more recklessly than she did it stone cold sober. A boulder came, then the half of the mountain too, raining down thick globes of fresh snow until the Mako was good and well stuck. She was sweating by then, skin hot and wet and her eyes wild and Liara offered to get help from one of the nearby labs, leaving Garrus to protect his commander with his life. From what, he didn’t know. There was nothing, only snow and wind and Shepard’s warmth all around them for miles. But time trickled by like water on a glass window after a storm, slow, sluggish, and Shepard couldn’t keep herself in line anymore. 

She pleaded for a caress she always wanted from him and he wanted to give her everything instead. 

(Maybe he loved her all along.)

And now, now Liara is gone and has been gone for hours, and Garrus pushes Shepard into the Mako's seat, his forehead meeting hers, something akin to a kiss only lovers do. Her skin is damp, her hair sticking to her face in messed up crimson ribbons and he tries to trace the constellations under her eye with a blunted talon when blood floods her cheeks, making them twinkle like stars adrift a sea of nebulae. The Mako is dark but not dark enough to hide the fire flickering in her gaze, shielded by a series of curved, dark lashes. Humans and their strange hair—eyebrows and lashes and thousands of fair fuzz that stand up as he moves his hand lover, to the vulnerable skin of her throat, swiping a thumb over her pulse that jumps wildly at the touch. 

"Kiss me," she whispers, barely audible for the translator to pick up, and it almost sounds like music like this, a series of hisses and high notes, so he nuzzles his way closer to hear it once more, now pleading, the sound buzzing in her throat. 

It's beautiful in a way.

"How?" he whispers against the side of her jaw, warm plates against cooler skin, and she puts a hand to his face, five fingers splaying over his colony markings, urging him upwards until her lips can brush over his mouth. It's strange. It's unbelievably soft. Then— wet as her tongue darts out and tries to coax his mouth plates apart. 

He takes the leap and lets her in. Even if he has all the sharp teeth, even if it's wildly different from his own experiences. And Spirits, it feels good. It's tender—even though they started to tear at each other's armor before this, even though he has to clench his fingers into a fist before he scratches her in his hurry. This has to be gentle where nothing in the world is. 

His tongue meets hers, and now he understands why humans like kissing so much. He does now too. Shepard makes a sound as he tastes the inside of her mouth, the blunt edge of her teeth and sucks in a breath when Garrus pulls back to gaze down at her and find her looking dazed. 

"Alright?," he checks, always, afraid of fucking this precious thing up and Shepard has the audacity to smile. Full of teeth and curving lips, a flash of white in the darkness. 

"I'm good," she knocks her forehead against his, nuzzling him, "really good."

Garrus kisses her again as an answer, bolder now, so much braver, and he kisses and kisses her until there's no more left to give, until there's no air in her lungs. Something new shines in her eyes, in the pool of darkness that is her pupils, dilated beyond belief, ringed by a thin strip of wild green, a black hole with a halo. Want. Need. Something more. Something unbelievable. 

Garrus rumbles deep in his chest, a sound so low she can only feel its vibration against her sternum, the crook of her neck where his face finds a home. His subvocals sing so many things at once, a confession she can't understand, not yet. Contentment. Gratefulness. Lust. Love.

(Maybe I love you.)

She drags her hand across his face again, that delicate, soft hand that is only calloused in places where wielding a gun made the skin harder. She touches his fringe, and under it, where plates turn into the most vulnerable patch of hide he has on his body. His voice grows louder, more like a growl than a purr, and she smiles again, so pretty something under his keelbone jumps and bursts and flickers—a star being born. 

"That's—," he starts and he's not proud of the way his voice trembles. "That's one way to give the night a quick start."

Shepard's fingers stop in their movement, but before she could pull away he takes a hold of her forearm and soothes a thumb over the inside of her wrist, guiding her back to that spot. 

"Am I hurting you?" 

"Spirits, no," he flicks a mandible at her, his way of smiling, and Shepard puts her mouth to his jaw as her confidence grows. Garrus can feel the plates at his sheath slowly parting and somehow he's hyperaware of her body trapped against his, her knee brushing his own, warm even through metal and ceramic plates. 

They have to strip down that damn armor, like, right now. 

But Shepard knows this, feels this too, and her hand disappears so she can grab the waist of his pants and tug on it, even though turian armor is not designed in a way that it could make it come off easily. 

"Help me, will you?" she asks against the side of his mandible, face and incredibly soft lips still so close, her eyelashes brushing his jaw as she looks down between them in the dark and Garrus desperately wishes that he could feel that fluttering. Instead, he's stripping. The rest of his undersuit that was hanging by his hips goes lower when he unfastens every little clasp and belt he has around his spurs. 

Shepard licks his mouth. He rumbles again, louder when the thin fabric of protective weave finally pools on the Mako's floor, and he's right up there against her, pressing close, so close, until his keel digs between her breasts and his side is framed by her knees and he kisses her the human way, with so much tongue and want it leaves her breathless. 

"How much time do we have?" he asks against the underside of her ear, finding a soft spot there, one that pulls a whimper from her. 

"Barely any," she hisses and lets him nibble on the curve of her neck. "Gonna make the most of it?"

"Trying to," he smiles, mandibles catching her messy hair, blood red on silver, hands going up to cradle her nape, to get lost in that soft sea of crimson. 

Shepard likes this, likes the feel of his hide on her skin and she wants more, wants no barriers in those minimal, quiet gaps the differences of their bodies create. Negative space filled with heat and some unintelligible emotion, something like summer, something like home. She melds her body to his and Garrus can't help the low resonance his subvocals start to make. 

"Am I hurting you?" she whispers as she lays tiny kisses on his neck, just beside the edge of the plates shielding his spine. "You're trembling."

"No, I just—," his breath hitches as those kisses turn into gentle nips. Right where a bondmark would go. Spirits, he's slipping. She can't know this, she can't— "You just found all the good buttons to push."

He feels her smirk on his hide. He wants to have her mark here, even though the thought terrifies him.

(Maybe I love you.)

"You know I'm good at pushing buttons."

Garrus chuckles but it comes out rasped. He doesn't care. Not when he can feel her body vibrating, shivering as his hands finally roam downwards, onto her sides, her hips, the soft of her belly that is so blessedly bare. 

He slides a talon along the muscles leading down, around the small divot in the middle, lower still where Shepard's already lifting her hips up to let him free her of her undersuit pants. There's still some fabric that remains, covering her most intimate parts but she grabs his hands and makes him grip the fabric of it in a hurry. 

"Pull this down too," she whisper-commands and he obliges, skims the tips of his blunted talons over the jut of her hipbones, a feature all too familiar on a body made of infinite curves. It traps his gaze, the small hills and valleys, freckled here too, and hairy when he gazes lower, a trail of tiny red curls disappearing between lush thighs as he reveals more of her skin. 

The undergarment only gets down one leg, dangles on the other by her knee when he pries apart her thighs, makes himself at home right in the cradle of them. This is all too fast and all too hot, but none of them complains as they meet in another heated kiss. She smells different like this, stronger, sweet and tangy and something else, pure arousal he realizes, and Garrus can't hold himself back any longer, can't will the swollen edges of his sheath to stay closed. 

"Show me how to touch you," he asks, almost pleads, because damn, he can't be selfish with her, not when he trusts her with his life and wants all the happiness the world can offer for her. That too, is a confession he's not ready to make, not for himself and not for her, but Shepard stops him in his thoughts as she puts her hand back right under his fringe, driving him wild. 

"None of that right now," she pants, breathless as his hands go bruising on her hips. "I just want you inside me."

Fuck, this was not the way Garrus thought he would die.

"I don't want to hurt—" she interrupts him with another kiss, then a hand on his stomach, low enough to almost graze the plates on his groin. 

"Please, Garrus," it's a plea. Broken and rasped. Raw, like a fresh wound. Why is she suffering? 

"Don't let me hurt you. I could not live with myself and the consequences."

"You're sweet," she smiles quietly, looking up at him from under the shadow of those long lashes, eyes burning with fire and want and that same thing that eats his heart alive, while it still beats a wild rhythm only for her. 

Garrus touches a hand between her legs, follows the trail of fascinating hair to where it parts in a seam of flesh, soft folds hiding a hot, wet warmth. It's familiar enough, so much more slick and so much smaller, but there's give in the muscle lower, where his finger finally dips inside her. Spirits, that’s—

She angles her hips, and moans, right beside his ear when his finger slips deeper, almost to the last knuckle in one go and damn if that's not something he'll remember for the rest of his life. 

"C'mon," her lips brush the word against his mandible. He puts his forehead to hers and pulls his hand away, moving her instead, three fingers splayed on the jut of a hipbone. 

It takes a little more shuffling, a little more angling and gripping for him to slot himself right at the apex of her thighs, her warmth scorching here, a sun, a red giant star, her wetness smearing on the bare hide of his stomach and then he's holding her firm and letting his sheath finally, blessedly open, his cock sliding out and into her in a slow, perfect motion. 

Shepard doesn't breathe. She can't. Garrus can feel her shuddering against his keel as he keeps filling her, making way for himself inside her even though there's barely any. He never thought she could— that she would have all of him, like this, with her leg cramping up around his hip, with her throat full to bursting with unsaid curses and whimpers. His subvocals scream, his mind fogged by the feeling of her oh so close, so perfect, so beautiful like this, with her hands bruising his neck and her lips open on some silent shout. 

"Fuck, Garrus I—," there's a hitch in her breath, then a fluttering squeeze right on his cock, her muscles clenching up. He's gonna lose his mind just like how he lost control of his voice. 

(I love you.)

“I got you,” he murmurs instead, eyes half-closed, hands still gripping her waist. “I got you sweetheart.”

Shepard squirms, pulls his face right down to her, then lower, into the crook of her neck and a deep urge surfaces in him, an instinct buried deep under centuries of civilized life and culture, yet it was never erased from his genes. He evolved like this, with the want, the need, to bite, to mark something that he wants to forever keep his own. Turians mate for life. If she leaves now, he thinks he will die. Can another soul be ripped from his own? He would gladly lay in a cold grave with her. Would follow her to the end of the universe and back, just so he can protect her. Shield the one that wants to keep the world from crumbling. Travel through all the stars and Mass Relays laying dormant, see all the wild emptiness and beauty of the galaxy and it would still be nothing compared to the way she looks up at him now. 

There’s water collecting at her pinched brows; sweat, he remembers, and he lifts a hand there to swipe it away. Her eyes are wet too, glossy, glinting in the low light like a starry night sky over home.  

“Garrus—” she presses out between her teeth, her face scrunched up in a frown of pain-pleasure he assumes, because she never makes a move to push him away, to halt this perfect joining. He hopes it’s okay. He hopes he’s not fucking this up. Losing her after this would be a killing blow. A heart-shaped bullet hole right on his heart. 

“Just tell me how,” he takes her cheek in his palm, angles her so that he can kiss her. Slowly. Softly. It’s a fleeting thing that ends with her nipping on his mouth, his tongue, just to get his attention. Like his every nerve was not focused on her anyway from the start. 

“Please move,” she murmurs against his mandible, her body squeezing him tight, making him groan. He pulls back a little, testing, careful, always so afraid of hurting her, his tough girl, but Shepard smiles and it’s enough to make him thrust shallowly into her. “Yeah, you feel so good.”

Garrus’ vision whites out for a second as her insides tug him back inside, so warm and so wet that a messy patch is already forming between their bodies, his sheath hitting her folds, the friction blinding, and the sight even more as he looks down, fringe tangled into her hair, and in the darkness he finds himself nestled deep, her cunt stretched around him, glistening in their combined want. 

He moves, spirits, he moves. And his chest rumbles and his hands shake and his mandibles twitch at her cheek and his heart aches so damn hard it makes his breaths get stuck in his lungs like trapped creatures in a bone cage. 

(I love you so damn much.)

She moves with him like a tide, like water rising on an endless black ocean alight with stars, then falling back, and even though he knows she's the most horrible dancer the galaxy has, she follows the steps of this tango by heart. Maybe because it's wanted. Maybe because it's with him. He desperately wishes that it would be true. 

"I won't last long like this," his voice is barely picked up by the translator and he knows this, hopes that she doesn't mind the sounds he makes. They're real. So perfectly clear in their meaning, so sure in expressing something he's not yet ready to say when she can understand. 

(I love you, I love you, I love you.)

She puts a palm to his stomach, just above his sheath, five lithe fingers mapping out the narrow lines of his sides, and damn, it makes his cock twitch, makes him thrust in roughly for the first time. There's a sound of delight. It comes from her, head tipped back and lips smeared with spit and red strands of hair, like fresh blood after a good brawl. 

"Yes," she breathes out, dragging him down to her, clinging to him tightly as he finally moves his hips in a hard, steady rhythm. His knees are gonna kill him later but it doesn’t matter because he’s with her, joined like lovers, like mates.

She takes his hand, leads it over her body, to the divot of her collarbones, her sternum, the dip of her stomach, then the soft of her belly where she makes him press down a little, makes him feel the distinct shape of him moving inside her. That's something entirely new. 

It makes him even more aware of the fact that this small, fragile woman would take up a krogan in a fistfight and come out alive. It makes him lose his mind. It makes some sick, posessive part of him growl and rumble and hold her so tight he's sure her hips are gonna bruise. 

"Shepard," he hisses, one hand gripping the seat behind her to find more leverage, her sounds getting louder, out of breath and high-pitched, his name a silent mantra only muttered with gaping lips. “Show me how to make you come.”

She whimpers, clutches his fingers tighter on her navel. The talons of his other hand tear the Mako’s seat behind her. She drags his palm over the mound of hairy flesh where they join, and he enjoys carding his talons through the curls, then she takes a thick finger and places the pad of it just above where he’s stretching her open with his cock, on a small bundle of swollen flesh that instantly makes her tighten around him. This is something he could never get used to—the tight warmth clinging to him like a second skin under Palaven’s unforgiving sun. He swipes his thumb over it, then draws a slow circle. The tightness becomes almost unbearable. He keens.  

“Damn clever turian,” she hiccups, grinding into his touch, into his unsteady thrusts, her hand gripping his wrist instead, not guiding but trying to steady herself. “I’m so close, Garrus.”

He nuzzles her jaw at that, forehead meeting forehead after, then lips with plates, tongue with tongue. The kiss breaks off in a series of desperate gasps, and Garrus murmurs against her, “let me come with you. Senna, please I—”

“Love you,” she pants into the crook of his neck, teeth grazing him, and then biting in when he pushes his whole length into her, the stretch unbearable, her words ringing in his ears like endless echoes in a hallway made of dark matter and stardust, and he claims her, puncturing her shoulder and filling her cunt, his tie growing, the taste of her blood bursting on his tongue. Sweet. Salty. Iron. Just like her. 

She tightens on him impossibly so, and then there’s a fluttering, her muscles spasming violently in an orgasm that makes her legs shake and her stomach jump. His thumb slowly stops moving on the bundle of flesh she showed him when her short nails dig forcefully into his forearm. 

(I love you, I love you, I love you—)

Subvocals screaming, his whole body trembling, he finally releases her flesh, knocks his nose against hers until her eyes flutter open, dazed and unfocused, brimmed with tears, pupils dilated to infinity. She smiles, blunt teeth flashing white and blue in the low light, and it takes him a few seconds to realize that it’s his own blood on her lips. 

He leans down to lick it off, to embrace her tighter, to feel the taste of her tingle in the back of his throat. She bit him. She marked him for life.

“I love you so damn much, baby.”

It’s out and it’s his own shot right through his heart, a shard of metal carved out just in the shape of her, and Garrus knows that nothing ever will be the same. The marks, the blood, his tie cradled by her fluttering warmth, his heart laying bare out in the snow, thawing in her warmth. 

Turians don’t like the cold, but Shepard scorches and it's just the right way.

“Thank you,” she whispers, weak now, entirely spent, but not influenced by the poison of want anymore. “I know this was… not how a first date should’ve happened but…” she bites the bruised swell of her bottom lip and he smooths a hand over her cheek, brushing away sticky hairs from her face. “Can we… have a next time?”

Garrus flicks out his mandibles in a smile and hugs her tighter, reassuring, eyes full of hope and wonder and her own disheveled reflection, “I want all the next times with you.”

“Good,” her grin tickles his hide, mischievous now. “I’m looking forward to it.”

(I do too. I do, I do, I do.)