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Fic summaries for the Shakarian Mini-Bang 2026 are now open for viewing!

For the next few days, everyone will be able to look at the summaries and snippets the authors provided before artist claims open on May 15th — this way, artists will be able to get familiar with all the fics without feeling rushed to make a choice.

Full fic list can be found under the cut:

1. Crossing the Line

Summary:

In the aftermath of letting Sidonis go, Garrus is struggling.

But his guilt goes deeper than he realizes, and it takes a much-needed conversation at a bar with Shepard for him to realize some things that may have been there all along, and wondering if he's willing to cross that line.

Rated E for sexual content

Snippet:

“I told you from the start what the plan was,” Garrus interrupted, defensiveness rising in his chest. “I told you I was going to find him and make him pay.” “I know that.” “So how can you say that I wasn’t in control?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Was trying to shoot Harkin in the knee part of being in control?” Damn, she had him there. Garrus downed his drink, holding the empty glass in his hand. “I’m not going to apologize for that. Harkin isn’t exactly innocent in all of this.” “I’m not asking you to. But that was the Garrus I saw last night. Someone so blinded by his pursuit of revenge that he was willing to do it by any means necessary.” Shepard polished off her beer and waved to their waitress for another round. “Killing Sidonis wasn’t going to bring your men back,” she said, her tone softer than before. “All it was going to do was push you over a line that’s damn hard to come back from. I didn’t want that for you. So I interfered. I figured I’d rather have you hate me forever than live with his blood on your hands.” “I don’t hate you.” Shepard gave a small smile. “That’s good to know.”

2. Snug as a Bug

Summary:

(T, no content warnings apply) Two tired soldiers cling to each other amidst the swelling dread of the coming Reapers, and Garrus keeps forgetting to wash this blanket that smells like Shepard. Oh well, he IS very busy, lately.

Snippet:

Garrus doesn’t even pretend to try to sleep that night. Shepard doesn’t either. They just sit up in the main battery, Garrus trying desperately to bury himself in tasks (he’s already done everything he can, there’s nothing left to perfect), Shepard simply tucked out of his way and watching with sad, tired eyes. She’s started keeping a blanket down here to wrap up in. Garrus won’t deny, he’s wrapped it around his own shoulders a few times, comforted by her warm, organic scent on the fibers. Eventually, he stops dead in the middle of the room, turns to Shepard, and just says it: “I don’t know if I did the right thing.” Shepard stands and comes over to lean heavily against Garrus’s chest. She’s heavy and warm and trusts him implicitly. “You did,” she murmurs. “You showed him mercy. That’s always the right choice.” Garrus sighs. “I… I’ll choose to believe you, Shepard.” Do humans… know anything about turian affection? Probably not. So maybe… maybe… fuck it. She’s his best friend. He fell apart without her. She’s trusted him since the beginning. Garrus bends his neck and presses his forehead to Shepard’s. Immediately, he can feel himself relax, like a child cuddling their parent; this is safe. This is good. Shepard is trustworthy. If she says it was the right choice, then it must be.

3. Operation Fire Cobra Claw

Summary:

After dealing with the clone, Garrus and Shepard attempt to have another date night on the Citadel while the Normandy is in dry dock after curing the Genophage…but the spot Garrus picked out recently fell through with a Shepard sized hole and they seem to be trailing behind some mayhem. Or – Garrus and Shepard are accidentally on the trail of Grunt’s Noodle Incident.

Rated E.

Snippet:

Garrus had planned it – it was perfect. They served dextro and amino friendly foods, he had managed to sweet talk his way to the front of the substantial wait list for Shepard (okay name dropping Shepard), and no one was going to bother them. Turns out someone did bother Shepard, and Shepard? Well…there was a Shepard shaped hole in the floor and a minor water leak. Very minor. Shepard tapped her foot impatiently at the kiosk. Garrus watched her, amused, as she tried to appear nonchalant. He pulled up his omni-tool and did a quick scan, “Something is happening in the Presidium near the Council chambers.” She craned her neck to see his report but he shrugged, “Not a lot of details but skycars seems to be suspended.” “Not for me they’re not.” She fiddled with her omni-tool for a moment and the kiosk unlocked.

4. Rubicon

Summary:

Set near the end of Mass Effect 3; Shepard and Garrus go on one last date before the inevitable happens. Mostly bittersweet and not very dialogue-heavy: this is just them choosing to spend what could be one of their last days alive on just being together. Rated T or M for canon-typical themes and language.

Snippet:

"So much for keeping appearances," Garrus murmurs. She can't tell what he's actually feeling: a part of her senses a joke, but there's also an undeniable longing sadness washing up on his every word. Like a wave crashing against the same ship over and over, it spills on board a little more with each time; Shepard can't help some underlying concern for when it inevitably takes him over. She doesn't know what to say. She doesn't have any more platitudes in her: she's already given him every single one and they did exactly what it said on the tin. All she does is just place her hand on his forearm, warm and real. Not reassuring, not comforting, just acknowledging the pain and grief he can't express out loud. "Want to… hit the range?" she suggests even though her heart is very audibly not in it. "Some last-minute target practice couldn't hurt." Garrus doesn't answer — not with his words, at least. His eyes glisten as though he is about to defy biology and let the tidal wave from before spill over through tear ducts he doesn't have. And when he opens his mouth, no words come out to accompany the singular high-pitched note he stifles as soon as it rings out in the air between them. Mandibles flutter when he looks away quickly but not quickly enough for Shepard to miss the deep blue veins striking the corners of his eyes. So this is where they're at now. Nothing left to say that won't break the illusion.

5. Through Hell on Living Feet (For You)

Summary:

Grieving Commander Shepard turned Garrus into someone else, and now he's haunted by a ghost wearing her face. This Shepard, he's convinced, is a spirit, or a figment of his dying brain--because he's sure he's dying, lying in a pool of his own blood on Omega, and she's here to help him live through a final act of vengeance before he's gone.

Shepard, too, is tormented by memory and doubt, unsure that she's the person she--and everyone else--remembers. But she's trapped where she is, and more important to her is making sure that Garrus remembers himself before it's too late. As they each face their own struggles with identity, they find a new kind of kinship and intimacy in the wreckage of their former selves.

Explicit (eventually lol). ME2-centric.

Snippet:

“Don’t move,” she says, and it’s a tone he knows well, one that echoes in his memory when he tries to sleep, like she’s furious to be taking responsibility for someone else’s life again, but wouldn’t have it any other way. Saint Shepard, Butler called her once, and most of the team chuckled grimly, then toasted to her memory. It was complicated. They didn’t know her, didn’t know he knew her. But she was a legend. They remembered her as the hero of the Citadel, a Spectre, and a menace. For anyone in her way, she was a natural disaster in human skin, and they were all acutely aware that they could easily have been on the wrong side of Commander Shepard, had they crossed paths. She was unerringly good in a way that was more dangerous than annoying, an unstoppable force—until she wasn’t. And all of that was true, but she was so much more than that, so many little things beneath the vast shadow of her fame. Little things like that tone. For a second, he’s choking on his own tongue, and he’s on Omega, drowning in blood. It’s real. It’s not. It’s real. It’s not. He’s dying. She’s alive. When she grabs Sidonis’ arm, Garrus feels her taking his wrist, stopping him from shooting Harkin, strong and sure and—and real. “I’m the only thing standing between you and a hole in the head,” she says. And she is. She is. She—is. Sidonis freezes. “Fuck,” he says. “Look—I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t have a choice.” “Everyone has a choice,” Garrus breathes, and he isn’t sure whether he’s talking about Sidonis or himself.

6. Be Between Me and Thee

Summary:

On multiple occasions in the years they've known each other, Shepard and Garrus have been kept apart by space, time, commitments, and on one memorable occasion, death. That has never stopped them from keeping in touch, however. Be Between Me and Thee records the messages sent between Shepard and Garrus (or from Garrus to Shepard) on four occasions in their lives: after Garrus leaves the SR-1, while Garrus is alone on Omega, during Shepard's house arrest after the destruction of the Alpha Relay, and after the Battle for London. It explores their evolving relationship and what they mean to one another through these significant milestones. The tone varies from casual conversation to heavy depression and hopelessness. Rating: T for implications of suicidal ideation and mentions of death.

Snippet:

Shepard, What I wouldn’t give to be back on the SR-1. I swear, I’d never complain about you driving over a nest of rachni again. At least I felt like fixing the Mako every day was accomplishing something! By which I mean I’m having a great time. Public service is my calling. I'm making my father proud. Garrus ---- Never thought I’d end up on Omega. Hive of scum and villainy. My body count’s already one, not that I was planning it that way. The owner of this… I don’t even think I can charitably call it a hotel… said all the rooms were full, but I could argue with someone and try to buy them off. I tried, but the guy either didn’t like my offer or just wanted a fight. Or he was on something, maybe. None of his eyes looked right. I guess that one sort of counts as self-defence, but I know you would’ve handled it differently, so… I’m sorry. ---- (I would never stop liking you. Writing to you is the only thing keeping me sane at this point. I was holding onto the action reports Hackett was sending me, and the refurbishment records for the Normandy, but now those are just depressing. I’m gonna be stuck in here until the Reapers blow us all to hell, Garrus. I am going insane.) S ---- This message won’t even leave the system. Reapers took out all the comm nodes. I’m coming, Garrus. I’ll find you. I love you. [Message not delivered. System unresponsive.] ---- Why does it always end up like this, Shep? With me writing letters into the void, wondering if you’re on the other side? Are you there? Can you hear me? Spirits. What would I do if you answered?

7. Stretches for Emotional Reach and Mental Flexibility

Summary:

Explicit - Graphic sexual content, strong language.

Jane and Garrus agreed to have sex. That's all it is, right? Well, they're not really sure. If only one of them could draw up the courage to ask. Who would have thought it's easier to talk about sex than romance?

But maybe it's better this way. Less likely to interrupt the crew without any feelings.

After all, it's not like the crew has been betting on when they'll get together, right?

...Right?

Snippet:

It was inappropriate. It was inconvenient. Most of all, it was unfair. By her count, there were two people on this ship that were actively trying to sleep with her. She could barely make her rounds without hearing a 'siha,' or more about Jacob's complex morals. There were at least two more people that would probably be down if she asked. But no, none of them would do. She only wanted the stupid turian who spent half his time making fun of her and the other half looking passively suicidal. Neither of those halves seemed interested in sleeping with her at all. It wasn't for lack of trying, because she'd tried every trick in the Shepard Book of Flirting. When she beat him at arm wrestling, he just spent the next hour reading about arm wrestling techniques on the extranet. When she kicked his foot playfully under the table, he just kicked her back and they ended up in a kick fight in the mess hall. Once, in a fit of true desperation, she'd even batted her lashes up at him. He asked her if she had something in her eye and she had to backtrack quickly before he tried putting his (soft, gentle, so-very-big) hands on her face again. All of these attempts had succeeded in riling up one person: her. It had been a lot of nights spent with her hand and her vibrator, and even then she was unsatisfied. She was horny in her heart. An absolute disgrace. Meanwhile, he seemed absolutely unaffected by the entire thing.

8. Shotgun Wedding

Summary:

(Rated Teen) To celebrate their last day of shore leave, Shepard and Garrus go out to drink on the Silversun Strip. They have a wild night–or at least, they think they did. Shepard and Garrus wake up in bed together the next morning with no memories of the night before and a trashed apartment to boot. The hazy couple in question retraces their steps in a race against time. With lives on the line, will Shepard and Garrus be able to unpack their feelings about each other along the way?

Snippet:

Rose petals, champagne, and confetti… A memory flashes in Shepard’s mind. A scene of Garrus and her at a bar. More people are there, but she can’t quite make out who. They’re celebrating something, someone? As Shepard struggles to remember more details, something falls out of the couch cushions. A ring. It was simple, yet elegant. Clearly an engagement ring, the diamond sitting atop the silver band a dead giveaway. Shepard flipped it over in her hand, but there was no engraving that gave a hint as to who it belonged to. A ring, rose petals, champagne, and confetti. Shepard stands to her feet, and in the motion she catches sight of herself in a broken mirror on the wall. In her bird’s nest of hair, lay a delicate draping of lace. A ring, rose petals, champagne, confetti, and… a veil. Her headache throbbed and Shepard keeled over in pain. Another memory flashed in her mind: a lively scene of partygoers toasting the happy couple–toasting her. Garrus raised his glass subtly in Shepard’s direction, a small teasing smile on his lips as she drank. Garrus moves to stand at her side, and when she looks up at him he’s distracted talking to a man she can’t identify, glass in hand. The men laugh, and upon noticing Shepard’s gaze, they smile at her.

9. Priorities

Summary:

A routine planetary mission to collect a few caches goes awry when Shepard and Garrus encounter an old—but unfortunately still functional—AA tower. The Hammerhead’s shields don’t stand a chance, and Shepard finds herself falling back on her N7 training to get herself and Garrus through their new predicament, with more than a few bones to pick with Cerberus about their idea of “field-ready.” Set during ME2 post-game side mission cleanup (after the Collector base but before Arrival). A short story structured as survival priorities, Shepard POV. Rated T, 6563 words, non-graphic descriptions of injuries.

Snippet:

The walls of the cargo space were ripped apart, but the reinforced storage compartments remained intact, though several had been fused shut by the engine rupture. Shepard booted up her omni-tool again, sitting through two false, flickering starts and three failed attempts for the self-diagnostics to send error reports back to the manufacturer for feedback—failed, of course, due to a lack of signal boosters and the electrical interference in the planet’s atmosphere—and then a quickly fabricated omni-blade and she was able to cut through the latches of the worst-mangled supply compartments. Slowly, a pile of supplies formed near the cabin. Less than Shepard would have liked, of course, but better than nothing. Better than being dropped on a remote asteroid with nothing more than a base-issue omni-tool and two ration injections, at least. Here, she actually had thermal blankets. Ground cloths. Signal flares and a first aid kit. Spare rations, though all of them levo, of course, because why would the human supremacist group supply anything else? Once she was done scavenging, and while her body was still riding high on the adrenaline and focus of survival, she prowled around the crash site examining each loose exterior panel of the Hammerhead for the largest ones she could actually move one-armed, dragged them over to the cabin, and started jamming them as walls around the breach that had once been the secondary row of seats. The Hammerhead’s rocket launcher hung like dead weight from the upper nose of the wreck, and Shepard spared a brief grunt of irritation at the useless thing. If it had worked properly—if any of this hunk of junk had been as good as the Mako—they wouldn’t be in this mess.

10. I Just Need You…

Summary:

[Explicit Rating - Panic Attacks, mentions of death, hints at PTSD, explicit sexual content]

The suicide mission was a success, but not without tapping into a suppressed fear. The mission reminded Garrus how closely death is hovering over them, and how much he stands to lose if it catches up. It quietly and quickly eats at him until it spills out, something that hasn’t happened in years. It’s terrifying, knowing you could lose someone you love at any moment, and stress relief can only help so much. He just needs her to live.

Snippet:

Something forcefully slid into the slight gap that separated Garrus from his station. His upper half lurched back, surprised into stillness when a palm smoothed against the unscarred plates of his cheek. For a moment, it wasn’t Commander Shepard he saw. In that moment, they were back in her cabin again, making the most of what little time they assumed they had left with each other. The collector base hadn’t happened. There weren’t things reaching from the shadows, no one screaming as some monster tore them apart. He wasn’t racing a clock while trying to keep the fireteam she had put him in charge of alive. He wasn’t constantly reminding himself that he had to stop worrying about her and focus on what was in front of him. He didn’t know when he had lifted his hand to mirror her gesture, but the second he touched her skin, he felt everything hit him at once. He should have been dead. They all should have been dead. She should be dead. She had been dead. Yet, here she was. She was real. Spirits, he had almost lost her again. “Jane…” He saw her brows knit together even further when her name came out as a half-broken whisper. “I’m here, big guy,” she assured him, her eyes becoming glassy. “Take deep breaths, okay?”

11. proof of life

Summary:

M / body horror, brief depictions of how Cerberus put Shepard back together

You are: Commander Shepard (in name).

You are: human (mostly).

You are: real (enough).

Commander Shepard storms back into the galaxy; Cerberus just keeps a closer eye on her than she thought. She finds herself a little more hyperaware of the moving pieces, the ones of her left to string back together. The ones that don’t seem to exist in the exact way she remembers, if she remembers correctly. Good thing Garrus is patient and good with puzzles.

Snippet:

“Are you sure this is something you want to do, Shepard?” he asks. The package is too big to send in a simple message, and she wouldn’t be surprised if it was blocked, if it sent at all. “No,” she says, because she’s never lied to him. He holds his hand under hers, thumb gracing her scaphoid, and as she drops the OSD into his palm she thinks of grabbing his wrist and pulling. Keel to sternum, muscle and kevlar, reconstructed tendons and cybernetics, the scent of medi-gel and ozone. Garrus is real, familiar, and the only one she has found herself not struggling to school herself around. Not overthinking how the muscles shift when she smiles, the way she splays her fingers as they talk. How many teeth show. “I don’t think I’m going to find any answers that I want to,” she says. “And I’m sorry to make you look.” “Don’t. Not for this.” She knows, of course, no matter what she does, Cerberus has imprinted itself into her very DNA. The ship can get a new paint job, fatigues and armor replaced, but Cerberus has laid claim to her down to the marrow. Shepard is her, but only so much as they will allow. “Thank you,” she says, because she means it. “This doesn’t change anything,” he says after a moment, and she finds herself bristling. “I’m still me,” she says. Neither of them comment how it sounds more like she’s convincing herself. Garrus tilts his head and forces her to meet his eye. The glow of his visor only obscures the one, and she feels like she’s been chasing his contrail, reaching out for something she wasn’t meant to take but has been holding her hand out toward anyway. “I know,” he says. “Never thought otherwise.”

12. The Storm on Ontarom

Summary:

Set during the events of Mass Effect 1 following the aftermath of the Akuze mission on Ontarom. As Shepard confronts the horrors of Cerberus experimentation and the ghosts of the past she narrowly escaped, Garrus begins to realize his feelings for her run far deeper than admiration. Beneath gathering storms and mounting pressure from Saren’s pursuit, the two forge a quiet emotional connection built on trust, grief, and shared determination. Spans Ontarom, Virmire, and the flight to Ilos.

Snippet:

“I remember the first time I ever saw a thunderstorm.” Shepard smiled faintly as she spoke, the expression more thoughtful than happy. Garrus glanced toward her before looking back at the dark clouds gathering across the horizon. He knew Shepard hadn’t grown up on Earth. She’d spent most of her childhood aboard Alliance ships, drifting from posting to posting with her mother. During one of their late-night talks in the cargo bay she had once described a storm that made her realize just how indifferent the galaxy could be. They had been passing Mars after a supply drop when a sudden coronal mass ejection rippled across the system, the eruption so abrupt that the weather officers hadn’t even caught it on LiDAR before it was already upon them. Shepard had told him the ship shook hard enough to make the crew think they were going to come apart at the seams, and all they could do was brace for impact and pray the shields held. She had called space “beautiful, right up until it wanted you dead.” But Earth storms were different. “Boot camp in Macapá,” Shepard continued softly, eyes fixed on the distant flashes of lightning. Wind rolled across the plains in uneven gusts now, tugging loose strands of red hair across her face. “Storms rolled in almost every afternoon.” Garrus listened quietly beside her as thunder rumbled low across the horizon. “That first day, we were halfway through drills and suddenly the sky just…” She gestured vaguely upward, searching for the words before giving a quiet huff of amusement. “Opened.” The corner of her mouth twitched faintly. “Everyone else hated it. I loved it.” Another crack of thunder echoed in the distance, closer this time. “It felt like home.” Suddenly, the clouds broke, releasing a barrage of rain upon them. The droplets were slow to fall at first, but soon fat droplets began pelting them, landing upon her freckled cheeks and his silvery crest, and drenching them both within minutes

13. Split Memory

Summary:

(Rating: T Tags: Major Character Death; Minor Character Death)

Shepard is back and Garrus is ecstatic. After nearly losing his life on Omega, he races up to the briefing room only to learn Shepard’s memory is gone. She only has access to her memories during high adrenaline moments. Chakwas says she needs time to heal. As Garrus tells her their history, she is unhappy to learn about some of her choices from the past. While Shepard learns what it takes to appease the rest of her crew, she asks Garrus what will help him work through his demons. This leads to an infamous discussion of how turians deal with high stress missions. One half of Shepard asks him to spar, while the other suggests a tiebreaker.

Snippet:

“It was your case. I let you handle it the way you wanted. I got to see what you would do when given the chance. You went for the execution instead of the arrest. You pulled the trigger, not me.” She shrugs her shoulders and unfortunately what she says is true. Garrus starts angrily pacing next to Shepard as she continues watching Jack tossing bodies around. “I can’t believe you would agree with her.” “I was there, Garrus. I know what happened. You need to figure out a better way to control your temper, blow off steam, whatever you need. Jack wants to blow stuff up. What will calm you down?” She turns to look at him and his shoulders sag under her scrutiny. The two are interrupted by Jack’s cackles ahead of them where they can no longer see her. Shepard double times it to catch up, leaving Garrus to get his head on straight. That night back on board the ship, Garrus finds Shepard in the mess hall again. She is drinking something and humming in enjoyment. He grabs his ration and heads to her table. As he sits down he asks, “Find the alcohol?” Jane chuckles, shaking her head. “Nah. Chawkas suggested hot chocolate. It’s pretty good. I can honestly say I don’t remember the last time I had some.” Garrus snorts and huffs a laugh as he begins to eat his rations. “Had an interesting conversation with, well, you during the mission. She knew about what happened between us last night.” “Hmm? Oh, yeah, EDI compiles highlight reels for us to review. I read an email, I think she listened to an audio file during the mission. It’s how ‘we’ keep up to date with our team.” Jane stares into her cup swirling the liquid inside.

14. where do we begin?

Summary:

5+1 - 5 times Garrus could consider the point where their relationship started, and the 1 time that Shepard does. It is a collection of scenes from ME 1 & 2, either entirely fictional following in-game events or a continuation of in-game conversations/cutscenes, followed by a post-ME 3 scene featuring a Shepard that lived after the Destroy ending. Rated Teen and up - canon-typical language and violence.

Snippet:

“You heard what Toombs had to say. If this group, Cerberus, was responsible for creating the trap that killed your marines, the blame would never lie with you, even if there were other soldiers captured.” A heavy swallow and another sniffle precedes her next words. “I let him die on my watch, Garrus. Twice.” She tries to pull her head away, angling so he can’t see her tears, but he pulls her in tighter against him anyway. “Someone very wise told me, ‘You can’t predict how people will act, but you can control how you’ll respond.’ I think, in this case, you had very little to do with it; you just happened to be there to witness. He would have pulled that trigger regardless.” “And Akuze?” He gives in to the temptation and rolls his neck down to press a mandible against her hair. It’s soft, much like the way her body gives under his hand, reminding him just how different they are. “Shepard, I have seen you ruthlessly take down a single thresher maw while I drove circles around it in the Mako, but I’m pretty sure you would have been powerless against a nest of them in only your pyjamas.” From somewhere in the vicinity of his chest, he hears an amused snort, and he’s immediately pleased with himself for getting her to make that noise. “I was not in my pjs,” she protests. “I don’t know, the reports seem pretty conclusive on the matter.” He glances down at her dull blue uniform and makes something up on the spot. “Fuzzy pink ones, covered with hearts. Matching slippers.”

15. Digging Up Stones

Summary:

While on a long-term ground mission post-war, Shepard finds herself frustrated and exhausted, plagued by negative feelings. Garrus and her have far too many walls up between them and communication feels muddy when everything feels like a pointless goose chase. That is until they find a pair of husks in an old house in the middle of nowhere, with no one else around. They have to figure out where they came from—and make sure no more are made.

Snippet:

“Just a few hours,” he says. As his hand clasps round hers, he presses her fingers once to his mouth before murmuring a quiet “Good night.” Shepard leans her head against her knees, meeting his tired eyes with a small smile. Her fingers squeeze his. “Night,” she says quietly. Garrus, always one to fall asleep quickly by nature, shuts his eyes in a scattering of blinks, and his breathing evens out soon after. Shepard still remembers the first night out of the hospital for the both of them: Garrus had curled around her, dragged her into his breastbone until he could tuck his face into her hair. Every slow breath in and out traced up her neck in tingling goosebumps. She’d felt as though she was steaming in a sauna against his body temperature, but he didn’t mind—not the smell, not the sweat. They stayed like that, twisted together tight enough that she woke up with her arms numb and imprinted by his plates. Every night, every day of the week, just like that. No matter how hot, no matter how tired. They stayed together. It’s hard to remember when that started to change. She imagines, just for a second, saying to hell with her watch and just sinking into his arms again. Feeling every press of his keel and his spurs and scutes. Her senses flooding with his scent: oil and wax, petrichor and Garrus. With a swallow, she untangles her fingers from his and heaves herself out of the trunk. If his breathing changes at all as she does it, she doesn’t want to know.

16. Signed, Sealed, Delivered, and One Hell of a Bad Idea

Summary:

Rated: Teen (mild language and suggestive themes)

A distraction. A bet. A fake engagement. And nothing more?

Set just after Shepard kills her clone, the Normandy crew is still on shore leave and finding ways to entertain themselves. What starts out as a means of helping Kasumi with a simple little heist turns into a fake engagement story and a Normandy-wide bet. Determined to keep Garrus from catching on too quickly, Shepard takes them on a wild goose chase around the Citadel. But when her ruse is discovered, she finds out she’s not the only one playing games. There’s twists and turns and a double agent.

Snippet:

Garrus considered himself to be observant, and, in recent years, somewhat of an expert on human behavior. Or, at the very least, an expert on one particular human. He knew a few things with certainty, this human was not fond of crowds, strangers, or crowds full of strangers. And she most definitely did not stand in crowds of strangers smiling and shaking hands with them. And yet, there she was, posted up against a table in the Purgatory Lower Bar, surrounded by a veritable mob, signing autographs. She claimed once, back before the Reaper War started and back before she died, that autographs were something you asked for from real people who played fake people. “And I’m real people playing real people, Garrus, I don’t do autographs.” But the thing that froze him in place just inside the cacophony of the bar was that Commander Shepard was laughing. Head tilted back, hand to her chest, eyes glowing in the roving lights of the dance floor. A laugh usually reserved for her closest confidants. Had it really been two weeks since he had last been granted a private audience to that laugh? Two weeks since he drove her to the top of the Presidium and told her that he loved her? She had been so happy, crowing her heart out about being the best shot in the galaxy. Then she killed her own clone and it was like someone had shuttered the curtains to the noon day sun. Everyday he chased that afterglow, wondering how to bring just a hint of light back to her eyes. He would not have guessed ‘Meet and Greet at the Bar’ would do it.

17. Hypothesis Testing (also known as: Humans and Turians and Blowjobs, Oh My!)

Summary:

When Mordin gives Shepard a very dubious piece of medical advice regarding the ingestion of turian bodily fluids, Shepard immediately calls bullshit — and Garrus is more than happy to help her prove the hypothesis wrong.

In sum: I’m firmly of the opinion that there’s no scientific logic to the idea of levo and dextro species being incompatible and that Mordin was pranking Shepard when he told her not to swallow Garrus’s cum. So here’s my take on how that whole interaction would play out. Fluff and banter, smut, a pinch of pining, and a healthy dose of humour (I hope!) — with cameos from Mordin and Tali! Rated E for smut, no triggers or AO3 warnings apply.

Snippet:

“I want to prove Mordin wrong.” Garrus stared at her. She was offering to give him a blowjob? Woah. The thought alone was… woah. He’d seen pictures and vids of what a blowjob looked like between two humans, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t fantasized about Shepard doing that to him. But fantasizing about it was very different from having her stand here in front of him and propose it in such a matter-of-fact way. She tilted her head. “What do you say, Garrus? Can I go down on you?” “Yes,” he blurted. “Yes, absolutely. But, um…” Feeling a little awkward now, he scratched his mandible again. “I hate to say this, Shepard, but you’re kind of making it sound like a business proposition.” Her eyebrows rose. Then her face broke into a grin: one of her rare, broad-lipped smiles that lifted Garrus’s spirits every time he saw it. “I’m sorry, am I not being seductive enough for you?” He gave her a wry look and folded his arms in a mirroring of her pose. “It’s not very seductive to proposition me by mentioning a conversation you had with Mordin, no.” Her smile widened even more. “Oh, Garrus. Is that a hint of jealousy I hear?” He tsked. “Jealous? Of Mordin?” He paused and gave her a cautious look. “Wait. Would you ever…? With Mordin?” She laughed. It was a husky, rolling sound that Garrus didn’t get to hear nearly often enough, and it felt so good to hear it now — especially when she sidled closer to him and rested her palms on his abs. “For what it’s worth, the only cock I’m interested in having in my mouth is yours.” Oh spirits, her blunt-and-dirty words, he liked that. “That’s, uh, worth quite a lot. Thank you.” Her catlike eyes crinkled again. “Anytime Vakarian. Can we get this ball rolling now?”

18. deeper well

Summary:

Omega was a blight on the galaxy— something Garrus knew all too well. But when Shepard gets strung into Aria T'Loak's coup, he insists to return to the place he swore off for good. Except the ghosts of his past are loud, his mistakes louder. And after a year, he comes to realize that maybe Aria shouldn't be in charge after all.

Not a novelization of the Omega DLC, but an introspective look at Garrus's perspective if he were to join Shepard during the events of the mission. Rated M, TW: mild blood and gore, sexual themes, PTSD.

Snippet:

"Aria wants it to be solo," she said. Her hands were busy, not with his, but with a datapad she drummed her fingernails on. Pat-pat-pat, like rainfall. "You don't care what Aria has to say." "I don't." "I don't, either." It was what he meant to say, after all. Garrus had to work on that. It was a habit he formed somewhere between conception and birth that his true feelings ought to be masked deep beneath layers that only he could choose to peel back, and Garrus never chose to peel them back. But then he was standing on top of the world, and she told him that she was in love with him (yes: him!), and he couldn't even bring himself to say it back without first thinking he would bend over the edge and vomit before admitting to something that would most certainly come back to hurt him. This was a concession. As close to one as he would get. "When are you going?" he asked. Her face was all of the response he needed. As soon as they were back on the ship— now— she was like smoke he was trying to catch with his bare hands— right this instant— "Take me with you." "You think her merc army would take too kindly to Archangel joining their forces?" "He's dead," he said, flatter and a tad faster than he intended his voice on sounding. The truth was that he didn't flinch whenever Archangel was mentioned anymore. It left him with a cold feeling, little ice shards that had somehow replaced neurons, that he probably should feel something. He couldn't be bothered, he locked it away a long time ago and swallowed the key.

19. Bricolage

Summary:

Garrus understands fine dining, how to make a restaurant feel like a home, even if he’s still running from the only one he’s known. He understands how things should be run.

He doesn’t understand his new executive chef.

Rated M, themes of PTSD and references to an eating disorder. [Alternate Universe, m!Shakarian]

Snippet:

“It’s over.” Wes’s voice was quiet in the dark, smaller than when his words rang like a general over the orchestra of a full dinner service. Without the bright lights and rush of bodies and food it was almost a different world, one made of pools of shadows and the nom barely there glow of stainless steel in low light, and the chef was equally as alien without the trappings of his station. In the fullness of Normandy’s open hours he was Chef Shepard. But there, in the small hours, stripped down to the clean tank top from his car and scrub pants and the vulnerability that so few people ever got to see? He was only Wes. And Garrus, who had left the suit and the shield and the driving implacable duty of the front of house at the captains stand, loved him. It was a clean admission, and if it cut it was like clean. It didn’t matter what they’d both left on their paths before Normandy. The fire, the fall, and the low brutal fear that maybe they were too broken to trust? It couldn’t find them in the dark. Maybe they’d won a Michelin star that night. Maybe the fire in them, in their whole crew, was enough to ignite the beacons that would bring people to them. Maybe they had farther to go, more to do, one more summit to master. Either way, as Garrus reached forward in the dark and for the first time was not afraid? It didn’t matter. Wes’s hand found his, held his, and dir not let go. “I think we’re just getting started.”

20. The Stray

Summary:

When Garrus Vakarian, security expert and C-Sec detective, moves into his new apartment on the Citadel, the last thing he expects is an intruder. A stray, to be exact. She’s mysterious, aloof, and a little bedraggled. Oh, and she owns a cat. Can he find a way to get close to his neighbor before she slinks away into the darkness?

A Shakarian AU about an unfulfilled man, a mischievous cat, and the haunted woman who becomes attached to them both.

Fluff and angst, with themes of grief, depression, connection, and healing. Rated M.

Snippet:

Garrus is unsure how long he’s been asleep when he hears the frenetic ringing of his front door. Half-senseless and bleary-eyed, he stumbles out of bed and through the dark until he feels the cold carbon tiles of the vestibule beneath his feet and opens the door without checking the security screen. A blackish specter lingers in his doorway, its contours backlit by the dim sconces of the hallway; he's barely awake, and he can barely see, but he has a feeling it’s not his sister. He taps the light on. It’s Shepard—her face is pale and puffy, swallowed up by an oversized hood that shades her eyes. She slides the hood from her head with a trembling hand and braces the other against the door, and the light overhead reveals a haze of gray around her eyes—the smearing of her makeup he guesses—giving the impression she hasn’t slept for days. Her lips hardly move. “Can…can I stay here tonight?” She falters forward, and Garrus holds her by the shoulders, worried she may collapse right here and now. “What’s wrong?” She draws a long breath and hesitates. “I don’t think I can be alone right now.” Without a second thought, he gently leads her inside. “Take my bed. I’ll sleep here in the living room.” “No…no, no,” she mutters and gestures roughly with her arm before shaking off his grasp. “I’ll just sleep over here.” She collapses to the couch, limp as a coil of discarded rope. Garrus glances down at the cold, uninviting leather. “Let me at least grab a blanket for you.” He completes half a step before Shepard seizes his wrist. He starts at her touch. Her fingers are thick and rough—exactly the kind of fingers you’d expect to find on a laborer—but her grasp is tender, tentative even, as if holding back her weight out of consideration.

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