This is not my main, my main is @lesbian-lover-147. If you are wondering where all my Lucanis posting went, it's here!
You can find my AO3 <there where I have Mass Effect and Dragon Age: the Veilguard fits currently. Also working on some Inquisition stuff.
Right now I've been writing a lot about Lucanis Dellamorte/Lucia Dellamorte, but my last hyper fixation was Kaidan Alenko and Jack from Mass Effect and next? Who knows.
Below the break is my list of fandoms and various links if you're interested. <3
Lucanis Week 2026 Master Link
De Riva Una Cafe - Fanfic Coffee shop AU featuring a non-possessed Lucanis, Mara "Rook" De Riva and the rest of the main cast from Veilguard
Family, Enemies, Contracts - In an alternate Treviso, where the Dellamorte's are closer to a royal family, First Talon is that of a king, Illario and Lucanis are just trying to navigate their lives with as little fuss as possible. Lucanis is told that they have finally found him a bride: the daughter of Viago De Riva. A perfect match for the crowned prince. Rook, as Viago calls her, is relatively unknown. Viago kept her a secret for the last 20-some years so Lucanis has a lot to learn about his bride while figuring out how to navigate with the second best poisoner in the Crows.
Equinox - Twilight Fanfic featuring Charlie Swan and Bella x Leah
NB Shepard x Jack Fic
F Shepard x Kaidan Fic
Other Fandoms do include:
All Twilight movies and books, Toy Story, Dragon Age, Mass Effect, Muppets, Animal Crossing, Xena Warrior Princess, Barney, Disney/Disney Princesses, Beetlejuice, Orange is the new Black, She-Ra, pokemon and many more I can't name right now.
I'm currently replaying the Mass Effect trilogy (again) so I made a quick reference sheet for my new Commander Shepard, Alyssa! It's the first time I'm playing as femShep and I'm having a blast, she is so badass
I recently got the Mass Effect games, and I’m already a little attached to the Shepard I came up with so far. So this is my dude Lennon (usually just called ‘Len’ casually) Shepard. The idea I’ve got so far is that he’s the group’s local weirdo cryptid dude that knows a little too much about messing with security systems for comfort.
I’m not too far into the games at the moment, so I probably won’t be able to do much story-based art just yet. But I just love this dude already and I had to draw him sooner rather than later.
I finished her!! I still don’t understand shading but it’s okay, we’ll get there, in the meantime, this is my Mass Effect character, her name is Ophelia Noelle Shepard. Her background is Colonist, losing her family and friends in the raid on Mindoir when she was sixteen, and ended up in the military when she was eighteen. During her military career, she meet her ex-fiancée and they shortly fell in love, having a romantic love story, but not all love stories end happy and like many things in her life, Ophelia’s relationship ended after her second daughter’s first birthday after a number of things came to light. While in service during an unknown period, she becomes a War Hero after she almost single-handedly repelled an attack by Batavian slavers on Elysium.
Unfortunately, it’s important to note that Ophelia doesn’t have full custody of her children as her military career doesn’t permit it while she’s all over the system. However, she does have 50/50 custody with them but rarely speaks about her daughters to anyone in an attempt to protect them. Captain Anderson nearly choked on his water when he found out and may be the only person who knows as it’s a ‘missing’ segment in her files.
Summary: Kaidan Alenko was always the one who knew Taylor Shepard even better than herself sometimes. Or, I imagine the angst that rebuilding is, and the conversations at Huerta weren't the insta-fix. Post-Priority: Citadel II, pre-whatever happens at Apollo's Cafe.
Word Count: 2.2k
Pairings: Fem!Shep x Kaidan Alenko but it's complicated
Rating: PG-13, swearing is a notorious fixture in my pieces
Warnings: None
***
Corridors of steel. The one thing Kaidan appreciated and missed about the Normandy was its subtle quietness. A low thrum from the drive core, enough to combat the tinnitus but not loud enough to stir a migraine. It's turian technology, though a crude part of Kaidan remembers this exact replica was smithed at the pocketbooks of Cerberus.
He tries to pretend. A ship is a ship, and the Alliance had reclaimed its Normandy, after all. Maybe it's the ghosts of those they lost – the crew above Alchera. Ash on Virmire. He fears that if he rounds a corner too groggily, he'll bump into a long-past comrade.
There’s a bigger ghost that lingers – something, though, that exists with a living form. Taylor Shepard is as much of a ghost as the rest, dead but brought back to life. Kaidan still wrestles with that notion. Should he be thankful for the seeming second chance with a woman he once loved? Should he be angry at the real grief he suffered two years ago when the original Normandy had been cleaved in half, spitting Taylor into the frigid vacuum of space and killing her?
It keeps him up at night – she is, as far as he’s concerned, the real deal. Taylor Alya Shepard in the flesh. Does he still love her? Does she still love him? She’d said on Mars something about how her death, her reconstruction by Cerberus, and everything in between didn’t change how she felt about him. Did she mean that?
In the morning, the dread remains animated. Because then he has to see that ghost pace the halls of the Normandy, giving out orders and coordinating efforts with officials across the galaxy.
Today, the halls seem quiet. Contained. As if the ship is holding its own breath.
Kaidan spots her before she is even aware of his presence.
Taylor Shepard stands down the corridor a few lengths from the crew quarters. One shoulder braces against the wall, head tilted forward as she studies the omni-tool along her opposite arm. She murmurs something before dropping the limb, a heavy sigh leaving her lips.
She looks composed at best. Limbs still loose at her sides. Breath steady. Yet Kaidan knows better; the tension painting creases along the shoulders of her uniform.
He slows his approach, not announcing himself right away. Watching and waiting, as Kaidan Alenko always does – something he’d learned long ago was essential around the commander. Measure the situation, just like one does on a battlefield. Not because handling Taylor Shepard was like an explosion, but because there were two halves of the woman at any given time.
“Commander,” he greets casually.
Taylor’s head snaps sharply. Controlled, always in control.
“Major,” she returns. Simple, nonchalant. Almost to an extreme that Kaidan doesn’t exactly like.
He stops in front of her, hands liberal along his sides. Not crowding her, but close enough in range. From this distance, he can see the graying of exhaustion under her eyes. Something even ice-cold showers in the morning and a high water intake can’t fully combat. She’s tired. Why wouldn’t she be tired?
There’s a beat. Taylor blinking up expectantly at the major.
“You getting any sleep?” Kaidan muses.
That earns him an eye roll and an indignant huff from the commander. He can’t tell if the question is mildly amusing to her or fringes on the territory of irritating. “Is that your professional diagnosis, Alenko?” She challenges.
“It’s a question.”
“I sleep,” she counters.
Kaidan’s eyebrows twitch. “You also avoid answering simple questions with non-answers,” he replies evenly. Unafraid to tell Taylor that he knows her all too well. Even after these years.
That solicits a look – sharp, defensive – but it fades just as fast to something more worn and professional. Taylor’s taken a menagerie of insults from humans and aliens alike; she doesn’t let simple offenses rile her up easily.
“I’ve got a lot on my plate,” she reasons, shrugging her shoulders lazily. She feigns an amount of unconcern. As if she could convince even herself into indifference about the impending doom of the galaxy and the enormous task that rests upon her shoulders. But Kaidan isn’t persuaded by such a frail case – and neither is she. Her lips purse, shifting into a frown. “Kinda comes with the job, no?”
He nods. “Yeah,” he agrees quietly. “It does.”
He doesn’t prod right away. That was always the thing about Kaidan – he could, but he doesn’t. Instead, he lets the silence stretch a little longer than normal, enough to be noticeable without becoming too suffocating. It does exactly as intended – Taylor shifts her boots. Crosses her arms. Something flickers across her face. Insolence.
“I’m fine, Kaidan,” she insists.
There’s the line.
Kaidan tilts his head slightly, unashamedly studying her now. Not in a clinical way, like Doctor Chakwas, not dissecting like Admiral Anderson tended to. But seeing her, observing her. The tension in her jaw. The way her fingers flex like she’s trying to stop them from curling into fists. How her breathing seems a bit ragged when placed on the spot, like she’s combating something trying to claw its way out.
“You don’t have to be,” he mentions.
Dark eyes snap to meet his gaze. For a second, something flashes there. Anger, maybe. Or panic. Kaidan isn’t entirely sure, but he’s aware of the minefield he’s stepped into. Maneuvering too close to something Taylor has kept locked down.
He isn’t afraid. But she is – exactly why Kaidan Alenko steps directly into her plight.
Taylor musters a breath, filling her lungs like it's some brave act. Her arms flex as she lifts her chest. “I’m handling it,” she states, voice flat.
“Handling it,” he points out, “isn’t the same as okay.”
“Since when did you become my therapist?” Taylor growls something primitive and angry. There’s a bitterness seeping into her tone – defensive, pushing him back verbally.
Kaidan stomachs the insult without flinching. He knows the malice she spits isn’t personal. In any other setting, Taylor would compose herself and take the critique with the stoicism of a trained soldier. Calm demeanor and unshakable resolution. But this isn’t any other setting, and, in some crude way, Kaidan can appreciate the realness that bleeds through Taylor’s facade.
“Since crew members are noticing you hardly sleep more than a few hours in a day,” he remarks calmly. Coolly. It’s a long list of things Kaidan Alenko has observed, even in a handful of days aboard the Normandy. “Since you started taking long routes through the ship to avoid people…since you’ve been holding your breath every time someone says the word ‘Reaper’ like it’s going to bite you.”
It drops like a bomb.
Taylor’s shoulders go rigid.
“Drop it, Kaidan.”
“No, Shepard.” He stands his ground. Not harsh – just firm. Solid. Like Kaidan Alenko had always been for Taylor Shepard.
Eyes flash. A warning. “I’m not one of your biotic students you can just analyze and fix,” she cautions.
“I know,” he insists. Unbothered by her ire. “You’re a soldier who thinks she has to carry everything alone.”
“That’s my job.”
“No,” Kaidan counters, quieter. “That’s what you tell yourself so you don’t have to let anyone in.”
A clean strike, directly into the crux of her emotions.
Taylor stares back at Kaidan, dumbfounded at first. The shock quickly dilutes into something more savage. It looks like she might snap back or throw something sharper, meant to cut. But instead, her breath hitches. Small and barely there, but Kaidan catches it.
Everything in him shifts.
“Don’t,” she refutes him, but the word comes out thinner than expected. Frayed along the edges and feeble in the core.
“I’m right here. That’s it.”
Her eyes cascade to the floor, trying to make sense of the paneling rather than confronting the tumult of emotions waging war between her ribs. Her fingers furl into fists this time. Perhaps she could rely on the brute strength of her muscles and tendons to wrestle back the chemical saturation of emotion.
Another silence stretches between them. Less of a formality, more fragility.
“I’m fine,” she swallows. The words fail to carry any weight behind them. Less bold. Less commanding. More human, something Taylor struggles to accede to.
Kaidan takes a measured step closer to her orbit. He gives her the berth to pull away – she didn’t.
“You don’t have to be,” he repeats.
She finally unravels. Something breaks deep within her; the shattering manifests as an uneven hitch in her breath. A hand flies up in an attempt to mask it, halt it in its tracks, and shovel it back down to where it belonged – unseen, unearthed. But it doesn’t work, and Taylor knows the gesture is futile as is.
Quickly, then, she bats at her eyes. Admittedly, Kaidan doesn’t catch whatever she’s trying to stop, but he knows the direness of tears for Taylor. The mere notion would make her crumble.
She curses under her breath. Ducking, Taylor attempts to hide her undoing. “Damn it,” she gasps.
He closes the distance without another word.
“Hey,” he whispers. Calm, gentle. Like he’s trying to coax a wild animal – in many ways, an overly-emotional Taylor Shepard isn’t much different. Just as likely to bite or claw in dire straits.
He doesn’t grab her. Doesn’t trap her. Kaidan simply reaches out, settling a firm hand along the back of her neck. Grounding, steady. Gentle. Just like he always is.
Taylor folds – but not in a dramatic way. No collapsing to her knees. No sobbing breakdown. Kaidan doesn’t know which is worse – to be allowed to break at such a magnificent volume, or to feel cornered into a quiet, devastating collapse.
Her forehead drops against the fabric of his shoulders, fingers finding purchase along the front of his uniform like she needs something solid to ground to. There are no further tears; Taylor’s pride has managed to dam that disaster from spreading. But her frame shakes, trembling as her fears and failures finally concentrate in her bloodstream.
Kaidan gently wraps his arms around her without hesitation. Secure, like he is built for this. One hand splayed across the arch in her lower back, while the other remains anchored along her neck. He tucks his chin along the top of her head.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs.
Taylor shakes her head against him, breath hitching. “I’m supposed to…I need to –”
“I know.”
“And I can’t just –”
“I know, Taylor.”
His voice remains low. Hearing her own name in her eardrums, Taylor clutches Kaidan tighter.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she utters, the admission breaking apart as they flow from her lips. “I mean, I don’t – how do I – am I making the right calls? Who do I fucking trust, I don’t –”
Her voice cracks completely. It’s a heartbreaking sound, enough to make Kaidan’s chest constrict as he can only pay witness to the absolute undoing of Taylor Shepard. But he holds her closer, because that’s all he can offer.
“Hey, hey,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to have it all figured out right now. You’re allowed to feel it, Taylor – all of it.”
She releases a shaky, frustrated breath from her lungs. There’s an amount of fire that returns to her body, hating every second of this. Hating the vulnerability. Hating that, of all people, it is occurring in front of Kaidan. But she doesn’t pull away.
“You came back to the Normandy,” she begins quietly, almost accusingly. “And everything’s just different.”
That sinks under Kaidan’s skin.
“I know.” His voice is the softest it's been, a ghost of a whisper.
“And I don’t –” Taylor swallows hard. Her fingernails dig into his uniform. “I don’t know where we stand.”
That one lingers between them.
Kaidan can’t debate that the exchanges and hopes they’d shared back in Huerta had truly meant something concrete. It’d certainly smoothed over several ruffles in their relationship, but it left Kaidan tentatively waiting for Taylor to breach the subject further. The standoff on the Citadel, however amicable, had only furthered the deficit between the two.
His grip tightens – not possessive, not forceful. Plainly there.
“We’re here,” he decides. He tilts his head, resting his cheek against her hair. His posture shifts – less of a fortification against her emotions, and now more of an intimate cradle. “Right now.”
It isn’t a grand answer. But it’s something real.
Her breathing eventually starts to steady, until it's a quiet rhythm that is drowned out by the hum of the Normandy's drive core. Even then, her grip on him doesn’t relent, still fixated on the sturdiness his frame offers.
Kaidan doesn’t rush her. Doesn’t push her away once the worst of it passes.
Summary: Yeah, sure, the sex was great but this is really why the night before Ilos meant everything
Pairings: Fem!Shep x Kaidan Alenko
Word Count: 1.4k
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None, except if implied sexual encounters and reported nudity offend you
Author's Note: Alexa, play "Pool" by Samia
***
The eve before battle is always quieter than normal. Maybe it’s unintentionally intentional amongst the crew – muted cadence of footsteps, less enthusiastic greetings from crew changing shifts. Less traffic, more wary focus on the task at hand. But even in that, everything else just feels further away. Softened, as if the Normandy itself knows that there’s a time and place to leave them alone.
Taylor rests with half her body draped across Kaidan's chest, bare skin tepid beneath the Alliance-issues bedsheets, entwined around their limbs. One of his hands traces lazy circles along the small of her back, while the other arm is bent and propped behind his head. Neither of them is particularly interested in moving. Above them, through the cabin viewport, foreign stars stretch endlessly.
For once, nobody is asking anything of them.
“You know what I miss?” Kaidan prompts, exhaling through a quiet laugh like Taylor is in on the joke.
The woman blinks, tilting her head enough to peek a gaze at him. “Actual running water?” She suggests.
His mouth twitches. He tilts his head in slight agreement. “I mean…yeah, the Normandy is great, but I do miss unsanctioned, untimed showers…” He pauses, brain shifting back to his original thought. “No. Diners.”
Taylor snorts. “Diners?” She echoes, processing the word slowly as if she's misheard.
“Yeah. You know, little hole-in-the-wall places. Open all night. Terribly burnt coffee.” He pauses thoughtfully, lips curving into a contented smile. “Grease that takes five years off of your life.”
“You are a romantic,” Taylor observes. Her voice thick with a dreamy warmth.
“I’m serious.” He nudges at her ribs gently. “There’s this place back in Vancouver. Tiny booths. Sticky menus. They have the best pancakes on Earth.”
She laughs. “That sounds scientifically impossible.”
“I’ve done extensive field research,” Kaidan counters lightheartedly.
“Oh, of course. Very top secret matters. Alliance sanctioned, I’m sure,” Taylor plays along.
“Exactly.”
Taylor smiles against his shoulder, nudging her nose closer to his collarbone. Kaidan feels it more than he sees it. The warmth in his chest has an aching bite to it. Because this, right here, is more dangerous in a way that combat never is. Not the sex. Not even the affection. The simplicity of everything between them right now.
She shifts a bit, rolling until her chin rests atop his sternum now. Eyes locked level to his. “I think I’d want a garden.”
“A garden?” He blinks, grinning.
“Mhmm.” She drags her fingers idly along one of his collarbones, like she’s trying to memorize the subtle curve of the bone as it dips from his shoulder down to his chest. “Nothing huge, ya know. Maybe herbs. Tomatoes.” She contemplates her growing list for another second. “I feel like I could grow strawberries.”
“Taylor,” he chuckles. “You’ve never grown anything in your life.”
Her face twists a bit with a scoff. An indignant huff escapes her lips. “That’s not true!”
“You killed the fern the woman from Feros gave you. In a week.”
“It was weak,” Taylor counters.
That remark elicits an outright laugh from the lieutenant. Low and genuine. The commander grins because she adores that sound. Loves how rare it is lately amongst the tumult of the galaxy in dire straits.
“You know what I think?” he prompts.
“Hmm?” she hums.
“I think you like the idea of gardening.”
Taylor’s lips pout. She narrows her brown eyes in his direction. “You saying I can’t survive domestic life, Alenko?” She challenges.
“All I’m saying,” he teases, “is you’d threaten a zucchini for insubordination.”
“That zucchini would know exactly what it did.”
Kaidan shakes his head dubiously. He feels helpless as he smiles. The two of them simply stare at one another before, inevitably, the humor reaches a morendo. Dies into something quieter and more real.
Taylor observes him for a moment longer. A ripple of ecstasy, not generated by carnal desire, but by the deep plainness of their current encounter, shines in her eyes. She finally speaks again with an inquisitive tilt to her head, “What about you?”
“Hmm?”
“The future.” Her voice is gentle now. As if the conversation may fracture if given too much weight. “What do you actually want?”
Kaidan halts for a beat. Chest suspended as he mulls over that query. Nobody asks him that anymore. Not really. People ask what the mission needs. What command needs. What humanity needs. But no one asks what Kaidan wants or desires.
The pad of his thumb strokes slowly along the bony ridges of her spine. “Honestly…”
She nods.
“Boring. I want boring.”
That earns a chuckle from her. But Kaidan doesn't relent.
“I want to wake up and know the day isn't gonna end with somebody dead.” His neck arches as he drifts his gaze toward the stars beyond the glass. “I want a couch that's mine. I want to argue about groceries and what color the curtains in the dining room should be. I want…” he hesitates, air caught between his ribs. Almost embarrassed by the notion of it all. “I want to know where home is.”
Her expression shifts at that, softens in a way that is almost agonizing to look at. Because Taylor Shepard understands, more than anyone.
Since the Alliance, home is a temporary entity. Military housing. Spaceships and stations. Deployments. Warzones. The next assignment already waiting in the wings before the last one concludes. The only certainty is uncertainty.
Taylor reaches up, fingertips tangling through the short hair at the nape of his neck. Her fingers flex. Clinging to him like he'll apparate from her hold at any moment.
“I think you'd be good at boring,” she murmurs.
A dry chuckle shakes his chest. He smirks. “Yeah?”
“Mhm.” An ember of humor flickers in her eyes. “Very dependable. Probably own too many throw blankets.”
“Wow.”
“You'd absolutely be the type to say things like ‘we have food at home.’”
Kaidan grins. “I would say that,” he remarks.
“I know.” Taylor leans, pressing a kiss against the corner of his mouth.
Their smiles fade slowly, naturally, until they're simply looking at one another. No body armor. No rank. The meddle of command structure not pressing complication between them. Just Kaidan and Taylor.
It's almost unbearably intimate here. Perhaps that's what feels complicated – that Commander Shepard, underneath the N7 armor and the military accolades and the Spectre title is just a human. Made of the same flesh and bone as the rest of them. Composed of hopes and dreams, and many things she's either relinquished or placed on hold for the sake of duty.
That part almost breaks Kaidan's heart.
He studies her face carefully. As if trying to memorize it. The little scar through the arch of her right eyebrow. The flutter of her eyelashes. The curve of her jaw.
“You know what's weird?”
“What?” She whispers.
“I don't think I've heard you speak often on this stuff before.”
Her eyebrows furrow for a moment. “The future?” She clarifies.
“Yeah…the normal future.”
Taylor falls quiet for a moment.
“I don't usually let myself,” she admits softly. Wistfully.
His chest tightens.
Because there it is. The truth of it all.
People like them, but especially Taylor Shepard, survive by living mission to mission. One disaster at a time. You stop fantasizing about retirement parties and gardens and a home near the oceanshore because hope becomes a dangerous thing. Attachment is a luxury they can not afford. But tonight she allows herself to imagine it anyway.
With him.
She plants a kiss at the center of his chest, absent and affectionate. “I think…that's why this feels…” Dark eyes cloud as she seeks for the word. “Big.”
Kaidan smirks. Brows lifting slightly. “Mmm, the sex?” He teases gently.
Taylor rolls her eyes immediately, snorting. “You're insufferable.”
“Hey! I'm just trying to clarify.”
She laughs again, shaking her head. Arm over his chest, she nestles her chin against her forearm. She blinks. “No, not that.” Her smile turns fondly wicked for half a second as she adds, “Not just that.”
The edge of his mouth curves as he chuckles.
Her face grows complacent again, a tender seriousness.
“It's this.” She drums her fingertips against Kaidan's chest. “Talking about things that exist outside of war.” She pauses. “Outside of dyin’.”
The words settle heavy between them – not morbid, but brutally honest.
Kaidan tightens his arm around her instinctively, and for a long moment neither of them speaks. The Normandy continues its course, gliding through deep space to their destination on Ilos. Barreling, headfirst toward uncertainty. Toward a future that neither Taylor nor Kaidan can ascertain.
But here, in this tiny cabin suspended between the stars, they allow themselves the selfish notion of a possibility of an afterward.
That hope, somehow, feels more intimate than anything else they shared tonight.
