#Saladin x guardian

[lordshaxxhandler]

Hi, I decided to make a separate series of Lore tabs for my characters and more from my story The Burden of the Light.

Just a little something I can work on between chapters✨

[phantomwarrior12]

Caged Wolf

It isn't often they're granted a respite.

They move from one hell to another, never quite catching that peace they seek. But right now? Right now, Commander Zavala has insisted they take a breather and Empress Caiatl, surprisingly, had agreed.

But Lord Saladin? 

Her Iron Lord thinks his own quarters more like a prison than a haven. 

It's why the Young Wolf is reclining in a massive Cabal chair while she watches Saladin pace to and fro - he looks like a caged wolf. Impatient. A touch aggravated. He doesn't like being still when there's much to be done to deal with the Leviathan.

But enough is enough.

She stands from the large chair, making her way across the room to his side. Arms lock around his waist and he stiffens.

She waits and finally, his hand splays over her own.

"What is it?" His voice holds a degree of concern, a whisper of apprehension.

She squeezes, burying her face against his shoulder blade and Lord Saladin seems to understand.

He heaves a deep sigh, gently disentangling from her before he turns. His fingers hook beneath her chin, tilting it up a fraction to meet her gaze.

"I missed you, too." 

A smile slips into place; an excited, warm, sort of smile that soothes some of the worry in his eyes.

The Guardian’s hand lifts, tracing along armor to the base of his neck. Fingertips ghost over skin until her palm settles against his cheek. 

The Iron Lord leans in then, pressing a soft kiss to her lips and she is all too eager to return it. Her free arm hooks around his neck to pull him closer and both of his arms are bound around her waist, tugging her flush against him.

It's intoxicating. Consuming. Soothing.

All she can touch, all she can feel is her Iron Lord. It's been so long. Too long.

She tries to back him toward the bed and he gives her a chuckle, holding his ground. She huffs a groan of irritation but relents, fixating on the gentle trace of his fingers along her spine. 

Soft kisses give way to lingering brushes until they part to rest only their foreheads against one another.

Words should be exchanged. Something to cement the affection but his embrace is enough. His hands splayed along her back is enough. His face so close to her own, his breath intermingling with her own - this is enough.

It will always be enough. 

Because although caged, he has her.

He will always have her.

--------------

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Forevers: @halo-2 @reaped-winnower @forgotten-by-the-stars @sugarcoated44 @cayde-6 @aetosavros​ @niemands-bibliothek @paracausal-hunter @florence-and-the-machinegun @orbdotexe

[farmergilesofham]

The Vanguard Swimsuit Fic Part 5: Taming the Wolf

Oh help oh no it's the gruff-- oh hello

Caiatl's flagship was not a quiet place even at the best of times, but thanks to some modular walls and three layers of soundproofing, Saladin's bedchamber was about as quiet as the heart of an Earth forest, or indeed the old hall of Felwinter Peak. The only discernible sound was the low hum of the ship's engines, or rather the vibration of every flat metal surface connected to the walls, ceiling, or floors.

Saladin's bed was little more than a stacked accoutrement of blankets and furs, into which the old wolf could sink after a long day of manoeuvering around the Cabal Empress and her subordinates' laws and customs. It was not particularly difficult work, per se, but his advisory position was physically and mentally draining nonetheless.

At that moment, Forge was stripped down to the waist, working his way through the forms of the various martial arts he had been impressing upon young Cabal warriors over the past three months. They were good, certainly, but their size lended itself to different movements, and such had been the focus of the Iron Lord's teaching this past week. Now, as then, he was slick with sweat, dark skin shining in the orange light of the room's faux-candles as the old warrior slid smoothly into his next stance, low to the ground and ready for grappling. The quiet ping! of his communicator intruded upon the stoic silence, and the low gong of his doorbell shattered it completely.

Sighing, he toweled off his face and strode over to the door, expecting Ta'raun, the latest recruit to request a private lesson in technique. What he did not expect was the squeal of shock from a fellow Guardian, standing a little shorter than him, followed by an entirely unconvincing coughing fit. Once they were done, Saladin could finally take a look at them, and stared with mounting shock at the face of the Young Wolf themselves, cheeks so red they looked like an elseworlds Awoken, barring of course the glowing eyes.

"Uhm. Uh. Er, hummm..." the Guardian's eyes were locked on Saladin's chest, and their hand - clearly unconsciously - began rising to touch his scarred skin. Palm pressed against the Valus' chest, the Young Wolf's voice petered out into nothing, just staring.

By this point, Saladin had regained his composure, and laid a deceptively gentle hand on the Guardian's wrist, pulling their arm away and stepping back. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Guardian?" he rumbled, affecting ignorance of the situation.

It took a moment for the Guardian to realise he had spoken, and another few moments for them to figure out what had been said. Finally, though, they swallowed and stepped in, still blushing furiously, and mumbled something about having more privacy.

Saladin pressed the door's biometric key, locking them in the room.

"Is this private enough, Young Wolf? Now, what do you want?" his voice was like earth moving over stone, or perhaps silk sliding over iron. The Guardian was in no state to decide exactly which.

"Uhm. Well, I wanted to ask... uh, uhm. Well, uhh - can I see what you wear whenever you go swimming in a lake?"

Saladin stood there for a moment, considering. "Is that all?"

"Uhm, no. I've got something to ask as well, but I want to see your bathing suit first..."

Well, what can you do thought the Old Wolf, untying his leather belt and letting the rest of his clothing drop to the floor.

"AHHH NO THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT-!" the Young Wolf's yelp was almost a scream, and their red blush was now so deep it was almost purple, heat rising visibly along the base of their neck as well.

"Are you alright? Your neck-"

"NO MY NECK IS FINE, THANK YOU" hurriedly, the Guardian clapped a hand over their eyes, shielding their vision from the sight of Saladin in naught but his skin. Well, perhaps not so hurriedly, but certainly with a loud slap of hand against face.

Saladin was quite simply confused. One second he's asked to strip down, the next second he's told that's not what they'd meant? Ridiculous. All these New Age guardians, barely approaching 30, and their new-fangled ways of speaking, got on his nerves. One should say what one means, and be done with it.

"You said you wanted to see how I bathe, yes? Well, you don't exactly bathe fully clothed, do you."

From behind covered eyes came the response: "Granted, but I asked for your swimsuit. Not your bare..." they paused a second, swallowing "...body." The Young Wolf was visibly trembling, blushing, and trying very very hard not to look at the Iron Lord before them. Which was somewhat difficult, seeing as they kept peeking between their fingers and lightly yelping. And made even more difficult by the fact that Saladin made no move to cover up, only folding his arms and leaning back against the nearby seat.

"So. Uhm. Would- Hhhh. Let me... let me try again."

"Take your time."

It was was great difficulty that the Slayer of Gods schooled their face to stillness, closing their eyes for the moment it took to let their hand drop and, finally, opened their eyes to look at Saladin. The blush was back in a heartbeat, but at least this time they didn't squeal.

"Right. Would. You. Like. To. Help. Raise. Funds. For. The. Eliskni. Quarter." Every word was bitten off, the syllables exactly enunciated, as their speaker began to sweat with effort.

"What's this got to do with a swimsuit?"

"A Calendar. Photos. Of you. And others. Sold on earth. And NeoMuna."

Saladin sat on the chair he'd been leaning on, considering.

On the one hand, Saladin was not one to disparage attempts at helping humanity's new allies, whatever that attempt may entail. On the other hand, he did not relish the thought of distracting the denizens of the Last Cities with lewd perspectives on their current leaders, especially where this could easily slide into insubordination.

"No."

"What?!" The Guardian sounded genuinely surprised, as if expecting a different answer. The flusterment was mostly gone, now replaced with disbelief, and no small amount of annoyance.

"Saladin, this is for the Eliksni Quarter! You know how well this would sell among Guardians!" they exclaimed, now upset.

"Yes. That's precisely why I won't be doing it."

With an angry huff, the Young Wolf stalked over, flipped the end of a scarf around the Iron Lord's shoulders, and pulled him in for a hard stare.

"Now you listen here, you big naked oaf - these people bloody well need money, and a single photograph in a calendar is bloody well worth the trouble of getting them some! What, you think people'll stop listening to you just because they've seen you naked! Get over yourself!"

All through this tirade, Saladin's face grew ever stormier until at last he cut in:

"You'd have to do one hell of a job to convince me, Young Wolf." He bit off those last words, turning the title of honour into something close to an insult, bringing forth a completely different flush on the Guardian's face.

"Oh I'll bloody well convince you, you- you... argh! Bloody old bastard!"

Pulling hard on the scarf brought both Lightbearers toppling to the floor, right onto the stacked bed-pelts and furred blankets, muffling the next string of insults in the sound of shifting furs.

~~~~~~~

Saladin lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling. He'd never been wrestled to the ground before, and he'd never been beaten so soundly as to be out of breath. His joints ached, his back hurt, and his legs felt like water. The Young Wolf sat on the room's single chair, massaging their wrists and sipping on a glass of water, looking down at him in triumph.

And triumph it was - distracting though Saladin's lack of clothing had been, it hadn't made any difference in the fight. Point proven, the Guardian simply waited for an answer, staring pointedly at the Old Wolf.

"Hmph. Fine."

"You'll do it?" they instantly brightened up, jumping out of their seat.

"I'll think about it."

It was about as close to an admission as Saladin was willing to get, knowing full well that he was likely being quite unreasonable in his assumptions. Age did not always bely wisdom, as had so very often been proven to the both of them.

"Great! I'll see you there!" the Guardian beamed, face split by a sunny grin, before prancing off to the door, only to be blocked by the biometric lock.

"Allow me." Saladin rolled out of the bedded furs, standing up in a single smooth motion, before making his way over to the Guardian. The tension was palpable, but only for as long as it took for the door to unlock. Then, the Young Wolf stepped out briskly, and set off for the corridor - only to stop suddenly. Turning around, a wicked smile on their face, they whispered:

"Shaxx is bigger than you~"

And sprinted off down the hall before Saladin could make his reply.

"What the f-" he was interrupted, again, but this time by the short ping! of his communicator going off again. Two messages. One from Shaxx, the other from Caiatl.

He opened the one from Shaxx first.

<Make sure Germaine goes to the beach as well> was all it read.

Saladin stood there a long time, not moving until a passing Psion yelped, Sending the image of a midwinter oak. The Valus blinked, turned around, closed his door again, and sat down to think.

xxxxxxxxxx

And that's that for chapter 5!

Goodness gracious, I need to lie down.

That was hella tough to write

See y'all next time!

[calissarowan]

Anagam x Flora

I know you are not familiar with Forest Punk. So either of these: Cottage Core/Goblin Core/ Lagenlook.

A healer but never have the incompatible of healing magic, imagine Seunghyeon Kang from Life of a Quack Healer (if you read the manhwa). Excellent speedster and a fairy animal ranger, a guardian of fairy animals and nature (idea come from Pokémon Ranger)

When you requested this, I already had a Flora x Anagan daughter in the works, so I finished her and put her here, since @lonelybiscuits said they’d want to see her, so it’s two sisters.

This is Bryony Hiedra! I didn’t really understand what the manga you were talking about was, but as far as I can tell, you would like her to be a healer, but with no healing magic. So she’s training as herbal healer with her mom. Which is good, because her sister can get into all kinds of scrapes, so having someone with healing expertise around can be useful.

She’s a witch, the Witch of the Untameable Wild, and she has nature powers like her mother, but far wilder. Her magic is a lot closer to Diana’s in season 4, when she takes over the city with vines. Call it an effect of Anagan’s dark magic. She’s an absolute sweetheart, but people making unpleasant remarks about her family really rubs her the wrong way, and then someone may get hit with a tree.

She has super-speed, and she’s almost as fast as her father, but she prefers her nature magic. Super speed makes her feel a little dizzy. She’s been made one of the new keepers of the Alfea Natural Park, despite being a witch. She showed the best relationship with nature and fairy animals, and so the discriminatory barrier just had to deal with it. (Once her sister had finished yelling about the situation to Faragonda, there wasn’t much choice.)

And here’s her sister! Willow Hiedra! She’s a year younger than Bryony, and she’s got a fierce, loud personality you can hear from space. She’s a fairy, but she’s transformed about three times so far in her life. She’s even faster than her father, and she leans fully into physical combat, so when it came time to head to Magix after her sister, she marched right into Red Fountain and said this was her school, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. The school doesn’t admit girls, but after she owned Codatorta’s best students in combat, they had to rethink that policy. Since then, she’s got her own wind rider, a dragon, and a kickass pair of thorn whips. And she doesn’t wear the uniform, because she has her own clothes, thanks, and she fights better without a massive impractical cape weighing her down.

She’s way too up for a fight, and Bryony’s lost count of the times she’s had to patch her sister up after she underestimated a squad of the best Specialists in school. Anagan and Flora have been to Saladin’s office so many times…

Willow technically has magic, but it takes far more after her father, so she fits in just fine at Red Fountain’s wizard classes. Her only nature magic is thorns. Lots of thorns. She can grow roses, but she’s growing them for the thorns.

Her parents both have legacies, and she’s determined to leave a bigger mark than either of them, and honestly, she’s on her way.

Nobody actually knows what she’s the fairy of, since she doesn’t transform, but she always replies with ‘I’m the Fairy of Mind Your Own Goddamn Business’. Then maybe some…choice words.

Thanks for the request!

[glorious-kt]

O Soldier Mine

Young Wolf snarled as he swung his sword against the training dummy. Anger and frustration bubbled beneath his plating as the dummy fell to the snow, burning at the edges from the Solar embedded in the sword. The Hunter swung the blade once more to cut the rest of the dummy’s base down, shoulders rising and falling with his artificial breathing.

“Your rage makes you oblivious to your surroundings.”

Young Wolf snorted, saying nothing as he turned his helmeted gaze to look at Lord Felwinter who stood in the doorway of the training grounds. The Iron Lord was still, staring him down through the ram-like helmet he wore, the soft sound of the taller Exo’s vents opening and closing being the only indication that the man was alive and not a statue. So much different than his student, Osiris. The warlock had told him nothing of what Felwinter was like besides a short few descriptions. The man was… different than Young Wolf had expected.

“You haven’t seen my rage. You’ve seen my frustration and some mild anger,” Young Wolf signed with one hand, slipping his sword back into place on his back.

“Mmm. It still distracts you,” Felwinter hummed as he stepped forward, arms crossed behind him, helmet tilted in observation.

“…….What do you want,” Young Wolf sighed and he signed his next question, turning to face the Iron Lord, very aware of the type of threat the man represented.

“A proposition for you. I’ll spar you, and if you win, we will leave you to your exile in this castle. If I win… you’ll come with us to learn,” Felwinter offered easily, stretching out his hands in a small gesture.

“And a draw,” Young Wolf asked, shifting on his feet, because he had an idea of how the fight would go just based on what he had been told by Osiris and Lord Saladin.

“I suppose we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Felwinter answered with a very light touch of amusement on his time, a sound that was barely there but just detectable.

Young Wolf was silent. He knew it was selfish to want to ask for a single year of peace before he got to saving the system again, but a part of him desired to be selfish for just once. He didn’t want to be a soldier for someone else’s cause any longer. If beating Felwinter would grant him solace for just a bit longer then fine. He’d beat the man and move on.

“Challenge accepted, Iron Lord Felwinter,” Young Wolf said softly, voice modulator crackling static as he used his voice for the first time since making a Wish with Riven.

If Felwinter was surprised, he didn’t show it, and Young Wolf was grateful for it. The Dark Age was weird about Exo Lightbearers for some reason. For Felwinter, Young Wolf may have been his first encounter with another Risen Exo.

“Then I’ll see you at dawn in the field, Warlord,” Felwinter dipped his head in acceptance, seeming just a bit pleased.

“Guardian. Not Warlord. Never Warlord,” Young Wolf replied viper quick, causing the warlock to pause before nodding and taking his leave.

Young Wolf watched him go and sighed softly. Just a single win and he could take a break from everything. Just for a little while. It would be enough.

——————————-

Anyways I’m writing this series in snippets here and there so I don’t overwork myself since it’s a big one! Who loves time travel and YW x O14? I know I do!

You have questions? Ask them!

You have suggestions? Give them!

Wanna know about our YW here? Ask me!

Oh by the way @hidden-scarlet-whispers a snippet for ya

[hidden-scarlet-whispers]

I cannot stress enough the fact that I have read every published piece of o14, o14 x Guardian, o14 x Saladin, o14 x shaxx, o14 x Crow there IS on AO3 ughhhhhhgg I'm starving 😭😭

[thefangirlthatwaited]

Encounter (Chapter 169) - A Destiny Universe Story

Crow x Guardian

“ENOUGH!” I roared, my voice echoing through the cavern. The Witness chuckled but remained quiet.

“Ruby,” Stell whispered.

“I’m fine... Let’s keep going.” A few more winding corridors and we came across Crow’s Iron War Axe. I hadn’t seen this since Saladin gave it to Crow when he left with Caiatl.

“Crow believes he is resisting temptation, as do you. That material, is immaterial. Only purpose can cure his heart, and he believes his capacity for pain is that purpose. It is why he subjects himself so completely to your Traveler. This belief was taught. Conditioned into you. It can be unlearned.”

My fist collided with the stone axe, void energy radiating with my anger. “Crow would never agree to anything you offer.”

“Ruby?” My head snapped up when I heard Crow’s voice echoing from the next room.

I discovered Crow, his gaze fixed on the veiled statues, unaware of my approach. “Crow? Crow—”

He turned, holding his hand up to silence me. “Quiet. Listen.” 

I looked up at the Veiled Statue and heard unintelligible whispers.

“I’ve seen these veiled statues before. You have, too. It’s whispering something, but I can’t quite make it out.”

I went to say something, but Glint materialized out of my bag and got there first. “Stop listening to it!”

Crow glared at his ghost. “I told you to wait outside. This place is... I don’t know what kind of effect it’s going to have on you.”

“I don’t care. You don’t get to make those decisions for me. We’re supposed to be a team. Guardian and Ghost. That’s how the Traveler made us.”

Crow held out his hand and let Glint come to him. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t ever leave me behind again. Promise.”

“I promise.” Glint disappeared into Crow’s bag before he turned to me. Stell dematerialized my helmet, and the moment Crow saw my face, he opened his arms, and I ran to him.

“Ruby,” He grunted as I ran into him at full speed. After so many months apart, being in his arms made me feel like we already won. 

“Don’t ever leave me again,” I mumbled into his chest as he held me close.

“I won’t.” Crow pulled out of the hug before kissing me. “I did tell you that you’d find me.” He teased me.

“I’m glad I did.” It felt like an eternity since we last kissed, and I wasn’t ready to pull away, but Stell appearing beside me reminded me we weren’t alone.

“Let’s set up camp outside. Cayde’s not far.”

Crow groaned and backed away from me. “Of course, he isn’t. Tell me you got the drop on him, at least?”

Stell chuckled. “You and Ruby both need better boots.”

Full Chapter on Ao3

[flowers-of-io]

2022 fic summary

January - Come in Time, chapter 8: Junction

“How did you end up here?” Tevis mocks his tone, still examining the flower.

“We’ve traced an object. A divinity.”

“You’ve come to the Black Garden to loot it?”

February - X

March - thoughts of alpha lupi

Could they even hear you, now, above the din of battle and roars of the Hive they tear down on their path to your dwelling place? It’s all smoke and gunfire, fumes covering the sky and keeping you from them, Light cracking like a mirror and covering the ground in splinters. Your child falls down to the ground. Your child stands victorious.

April - Prince of the Mountain

“I can’t imagine Saladin making this entire climb every time,” Glint twisted in the air to shake some of the snow off, like a dog after a bath. “There must be some easier way up.”

“Maybe this was supposed to be yet another test,” Crow gave a small smile as he glanced down at the datapad with the coordinates Saladin had given him. They were approaching the middle of the bridge and the Iron Temple towered above them like a silent watcher.

May - We Meet at the Point of Tension

The Witness flinches. They know what she is trying to do. Resonant hands lunge forward, locking her wrists in an iron grip.

—-You will not take him from us.-—

June - Small Knives

“A fair question to ask, Princess,” he mirrored the inquisitive tilt of her head, somewhat mockingly, “So tell me, if you were a foreign assassin from far away sent to dispose of the Osmium King, why would you do this?”

The girl mindlessly dug a pattern in the dirt with her foot, thinking. Rhulk watched her glimmering eyes and frowned brow, and when her silence began to bore him, he prodded,

“Would you not like to claim his power?”

July - The Aftermath

“Come to my ship tomorrow,” she says; Zavala looks at her and finds her gaze soft, wandering across his face as if she were memorising it, “and I will teach you to celebrate. As you said, this is not a failure, after all.”

August - Who Are You?

My mind strains from maintaining the illusion. How much easier it is to call upon the Deep, with runes and chants to buoy you, the Tablets like stepping stones under your feet; here, in this white silence, I float unmoored without direction.

September - X

October - The Rule of Absorption

“The Whisper Queen.”

Eris whirred around with the snap of an unsheathed knife, and the full weight of her body pressed Toland against the tunnel wall as the blade kissed the translucent-pale skin of his throat.

“Never call me that again,” she said in a low hiss.

November - Orbits

They run away from the chaos of the Scorn-flooded Reef (my fault, Variks finds himself thinking, my fault) and hide on Nessus, because it is quiet, because the Dusk forces there are scattered and barely motivated to fight for anything other than food. Seven of them sneak up to Variks’ camp and join him on the first night.

Time passes. Somewhere up there, in the evening sky, Petra is hunting the Barons.

December - Moonglow

"Two years," he says; there is some tightness in his voice, one the Guardian isn't fully certain how to interpret. "Since we were camping here, remember?"

[pmpmyread]

Last Call

A/N: Ao3 x-post, Destinytober 2023 prompt fic. Characters: Zavala, Crow, Sloane, The Drifter, Saladin Forge Summary: A light drizzle fell upon the Last City, on a very late, cold, and dreary night; the mood inside Rehnpeir’s Drunken Noodle bar was anything but. Takes place during Season of the Witch. WC: 806

A light drizzle fell upon the Last City, on a very late, cold, and dreary night; the mood inside Rehnpeir’s Drunken Noodle bar was anything but.

The establishment’s eponym stood behind the bar, pausing to take in his surroundings for the first time that night. His bar had been exceptionally crowded, almost at capacity in fact, leaving him with no time to take a breather as he single-handedly covered the evening’s shift. It was quite notable, and something he had not seen since a time preceding the Red War. Even then, such occasions usually stemmed from dire circumstances, with the bar often serving as a post-crisis congregation point, or a shelter of last resort, among other unfortunate wartime uses.

Such had been the case, many months ago, on and following that fateful day when the Witness’ fleet darkened the Last City’s skies, as he and Calus invaded Sol, capturing the Traveler on their way in. Tending a bar that was this centrally located within the last bastion of humanity afforded him some insight, a certain pulse on the community and on the sentiment dominating it, at any given time. Rehnpeir vividly recalled the somber atmosphere, that came from that day and that stuck through during subsequent weeks, as though it had just happened yesterday.  

In contrast, tonight’s ambiance, even as the threat of Xivu Arath loomed over them, was one of levity, a far cry from the mood that had loomed over the town all those months ago. At this moment, it was not a desperate, reluctant patronage but an amalgamation of elder and young, Eliksni and Cabal, Guardian and non-Guardians alike, that gathered here not by tragedy, but just to enjoy each other’s company. As tired as he was, what a privilege it had been to serve them.

Rehnpeir turned his attention to the left-hand side of the seating area, where Commander Zavala and Deputy Commander Sloane shared a booth with a couple of regulars he recognized. He himself was surprised when the Vanguard leaders turned up earlier that evening. After all, it was not every day that the Vanguard leadership came down to patronize the bar, at least not these days.

Both leaders had managed to engage in a little over an hour of deep conversation prior to the dinner time rush, after which some patrons started rushing to their table to welcome the Deputy Commander home. To them, her much-welcomed return was accompanied by a palpable glimmer of hope. On more than one occasion, Rehnpeir had even caught a rare hint of contentment on Zavala’s expression as he looked on citizens of the last bastion on earth finally engaging with members of Vanguard leadership. As the leader, Zavala likely had the herculean task of rebuilding the trust between Vanguard leadership and the Last City inhabitants, one Rehnpeir did not envy. Tonight could conceivably mark a first step in that coveted direction.

A sudden clamoring emanated from a nearby table, occupied by no other than the one they called the Drifter and by Lord Saladin.

Rehnpeir had wondered whether Saladin had lost a bet of some sort, for him to let himself be dragged into a bar, by the Drifter no less. What had started as a calm game of cards between the unlikely pair had quickly devolved into a nonsensical turn-based brouhaha, pitting mixed factions against each other, as each argued and defended varying obscure self-serving rulesets. It had all been playful banter, of course, though Rehnpeir did wonder if Saladin wasn’t taking it a bit too seriously at this moment, as he launched into an uncharacteristic tirade, defending a move he had just made as a trial lawyer from those old Golden Age legal dramas would defend their case.

“Too late to order a final drink? I realize we’re entering last call territory.”

Rehnpeir turned to glance at the source of the voice, his eyes landing on none other than the Crow. He’d been so engrossed by the scene that he’d failed to notice the Hunter who had approached the bar.

Crow’s mere presence also held a great deal of weight; it was a direct representation of rebirth, of a mix of the old and the new ways and of the many dualities that had become the reality of the habitants of the Last City.

The barman glanced at the clock that adorned the wall just above the front door. Had it really been that late? He caught sight of the intensifying rain through the exit’s window.

His eyes returned to meet Crow’s, whose head was tilted ever so slightly, awaiting his response. “Oh, what the hell," the bartender smiled, picking up a clean cup as he finally replied, "What can I get you, my friend?”

Tonight, he’d opt to extend the last call, an exceptional measure for an equally exceptional night.

[lordshaxxhandler]

It’s officially here! The return of The Burden of The Light! Please enjoy the rewritten and retelling of my own world of Destiny. I am so excited to share!

MASTER POST

Character Bio’s below

Name: Thera Wylie

Pronouns: She/Her

Eyes: Green

Hair: Dark Brown

Height: 5’10

Race: Human

Class: Lightless Civilian, Amanda’s right hand/assistant ops coordinator for the vanguard.

Love Interest: Lord Shaxx

Best friend: Amanda Holiday

Personality: Fun, outgoing, fearless, confidant, & girly.

Fun fact. Thera has an Exo arm starting from her elbow.

…

Name: Celeste

Pronouns: She/Her

Eyes: Gold/Yellow

Hair: Snow White

Height: 5’5

Race: Awoken

Class: Warlock

Ghost Name: Astral (Female)

Coms code name: Cityhawk 723

Best Friend: Ikora, Behemoth-29, Siph, & anyone willing to get to know her.

Love Interest: Lord Saladin

Personality: Kind, caring to the point of worrying about others before herself, & confident almost ignorantly. A bit pretentious.

…

Name: Behemoth-29

Pronouns: He/Him

Eyes: white

Height: 6’6

Race: Exo

Class: Hunter

Ghosts Name: Flare (Female)

Best friend: Siph & Celeste

Personality: doesn’t talk hardly at all unless necessary, Very intimidating but intentional and not, protective of his fireteam and friends, hides in the shadows and keeps to himself.

…

Name: Siph

Pronouns: He/Him

Eyes: Blue

Height: 6’0

Race: Awoken

Class: Titan

Ghosts Name: Spector (male)

Best friend: Behemoth-29

Personality: Friendly, funny but intimidating, focused to complete every mission perfectly, extremely protective of fireteam members.

…

Name: Momo-7

Pronouns: she/her

Eyes: pink

Height: 5’7

Race: Exo

Class: Hunter

Ghosts Name: Usagi (male)

Love interest: Uzec

Best friend: Sage & Usagi

Personality: fun, bubbly, kind. A crucible star, her name is well known in the community of the Last City. She has a large fan base and even does some PR for the Vanguard on occasion.

…

Name: Uzec

Pronouns: He/Him

Eyes: Orange

Height: 6’3

Race: Awoken

Class: Titan

Ghosts Name: Azami (female)

Love Interest: Momo-7

Personality: Extremely outgoing, pretentious, sees himself above others, friendly, nice, possessive and materialistic.

…

Name: Sage

Pronouns: She/Her

Eyes: Orange

Height: 5’9

Race: Awoken

Class: Warlock

Ghosts Name: Lavender

Best friend: Momo-7

Personality: Sweet, loves to study rocks, crystals and bones. She has some Ahamkara bones she likes to listen to on occasion. Finds different materials in the wilds that she believes can help heal and send you into different worlds.

…

Name: Buck-2

Pronouns: He/Him

Eyes: Blue

Height: 6’0

Race: exo

Class: Titan

Ghosts Name: June Bug (female)

Good friends: June Bug, Devrim, Marc, & Hawthorn.

Personality: Friendly but intimidating, don’t touch his things, loves his animals and his homestead, prefers the rogue lightbarer life than the city life.

…

(More to come…)

Check out this link to learn about these characters lore

…

Lord Shaxx & his Ghost Moxie

Since the helmet always stays on, for written and story purposes. This is my idea of how Lord Shaxx could look. So, for this fic, this is Lord Shaxx, but feel free to imagine him any way you’d like. This is just my version or idea. Also since there is no cannon name, shell or personality for his ghost, I created one for better story flow. Please meet Moxie, a sassy ghost who isn’t afraid to match her Guardians energy.

[phantomwarrior12]

Surprise

---------------------

He looks…rigid.

There is a tension that permeates every inch of his frame. Shoulders drawn back in an effort to give him a larger presence. Chin angled upward. Hands clenched at his sides. Boots planted shoulder width apart.

Clearly, this is an argument - one the Young Wolf isn't meant to be privy to.

But around them, the bridge crew moves about as if there isn't a struggle of wills a few fleeting feet away and she opts to do the same.

She steps inside the bridge then, scanning the room for an instant before deciding out of the way is her wisest course of action. She props herself against the wall not far from the door and folds her arms across her chest to wait.

Her gaze drifts idly around the room. A language she can't read displayed on monitors and a mixture of intrigued and hostile looks greet her when her gaze sweeps over soldiers. None of it troubles her though. She's long since grown accustomed to the harsh gazes of former enemies and current enemies alike.

Her eyes drifts back to the Iron Lord all the same.

Lord Saladin is still occupied by an intense discussion with Caiatl. She didn't think it was possible but his glare has intensified substantially. Caiatl looks to be one word away from a reprimanding but even she respects Saladin’s council and appreciates his bluntness - even if it borders on what one might call insubordination.

Still, this conversation could drag on for some time - both are stubborn and used to having their way. So, she occupies herself with her Iron Lord's frame. Eyes drift along his armor, taking in new scars along metal, damaged paint and the telltale signs of wear on his cloak. She makes a mental note to speak with Tess about getting him a new one but then his tone changes. Suddenly, it's not as hostile but a bit louder and…directed at her.

"Young Wolf," his voice snaps her from her daze. She jolts upright, making an effort to behave as though she hadn't been deliberately admiring every inch of him. 

It's not very convincing as she summons a nod of greeting but her Iron Lord doesn't draw attention to it.

Instead, he assures the Empress they'll continue their discussion when both their tempers have subsided.

Caiatl made a remark about his fizzling out the instant he'd seen the Guardian but he ignores her and excuses himself.

The next instant, his hand is in hers and he is pulling her toward the bridge doors. Neither of them hear the Empress's parting remark as the Iron Lord guides her beyond the doors and around the corner before dragging her into a tight embrace.

The impact alone against him hitches her breathing and she finds herself wrapping her arms around his neck. She finds herself pressing into his solid form and burying her visor against the side of his neck.

"Ghost," his voice is soft when he says the little Light's name and the request is understood in an instant.

Her helmet vanishes and then, then she can press a kiss to his skin.

His hold doubles down when she does so and she swears she can hear his breath catch if only for a moment before he relaxes.

"I've missed you," he manages at last.

The Guardian smiles, humming her agreement as she closes her eyes. His fingers tangle in her hair, his hold around her ribs tightens and for a moment, the fear he may crush her with his embrace strikes her. But he schools his hold, settling for a deep inhale and a gradual recoil to gaze at her.

Gloved fingers tuck hair away from her eyes before he leans down, capturing her lips in a firm yet affectionate kiss.

Her own hands find their way to his jawline as she reciprocates.

His leaving Earth before she had a chance to say goodbye - it feels like a memory now. A fragment long forgotten so long as he holds her in his arms and showers her in affection. A distant nightmare so long as his lips are on hers and she can feel the warmth of Solar cascading against her own Light.

He only withdraws when they both need to breathe but even then, the Iron Lord embraces her. Not a tender sort. But a desperate, possessive embrace that keeps her locked against him.

This isn't goodbye. This isn't how her Iron Lord does that.

This is a silent vow. This is a plea - for what, she isn't certain but she wants to promise all the same.

When Lord Saladin finally steps back, granting her a few feet of space, he is smiling. There's a twinkle of warmth in sharp brown eyes, a whisper of tenderness in the furrow of his brow. He is gazing at her as if she is the only thing he's ever loved.

And she basks in it.

She smiles, stepping away from the wall he'd damn near pinned her to and takes his hand. Fingers fit together, thumb tracing over skin before her eyes find his once more.

"Thank you…for coming." He says gently.

She nods, squeezing his hand. "How long until–"

"Caiatl will need time to reign in her anger," he casts a glance toward the bridge door, "An hour, perhaps. Maybe less."

The Young Wolf nods slowly, diverting her eyes to their entwined hands.

She can feel his gaze burning into her very soul. He knows her better than anyone - every instinct. Every tendency. Every evasion. She's no mystery, nor is he to her.

"Come with me," he squeezes her hand and guides her down the hall. They pass soldiers, a few Phalanx and a curious Psion. He leads her through massive corridors until they pause just outside a large door. 

Her eyes sweep over the door before snapping to Saladin just before he hits the panel. The doors open and they're greeted with what the Guardian can only call a kennel but larger.

The War Beasts move about and in the corner, there are…puppies.

A smile breaks across the Guardian's features and Saladin chuckles beside her before leading her inside.

The Beasts lumber up to the Iron Lord, sniffing at him before he gives them a pat and continues forward. The Guardian drops to her knees just shy of the mother Beast.

Her Iron Lord sits beside her, holding out his hand and the Beast gives it a sniff. She huffs softly before lowering her head and Saladin picks up one of the War Beast puppies.

The Guardian tucks against his side, reaching her hand out for the pup to sniff before it nuzzles into her palm and she grins.

She pets its head before Saladin hands it over and settles it in her arms. She cradles the little thing gently, unable to quell a soft laugh as it rolls in her arms.

Somewhere along the line, she feels Saladin wrap an arm around her. His head settles against hers as they gaze down at the puppy. She relaxes into his side, basking in the soft trace of his fingers along her pauldron, the warm breath cascading against the side of her neck. 

She isn't sure how long they stay like that, petting the War Beast puppy before the others toddle over and the Young Wolf gets tackled by them.

She falls back laughing as they clamber over her and Saladin leans down on his elbow beside her, ensuring they stay away from her face but enjoying her excitement all the same.

Saladin tells her about the animals - defining markings he'd picked up on, temperament, the like - all while she's playing with the puppies. Eventually, the little ones tire out and shuffle back to their mother. 

Saladin’s arm had ended up beneath her head at some point and once her eyes move from the puppies, she realizes he's gazing down at her.

Her smile softens and she reaches up for him, her hand cradling his cheek and he inclines his head into the contact.

"How do they compare to your wolves?" She asks softly, trying to distract from the unidentifiable glint in his eyes.

"Worse temperament," he slowly lowers himself, "less affectionate." His eyes drift from hers to her lips and back.

"Perhaps I should bring them next time I come by." She murmurs, tracing along his temple.

He chuckles, she smiles.

And then he's kissing her again. Slowly, softly, affectionately this time. It's tender and relaxing as they cling to one another, taking their time with each caress.

Neither of them hear the door open, nor the heavy steps that pause just beyond the door.

"Valus Forge." Caiatl's voice splits the silence and the Iron Lord curses under his breath.

The Young Wolf giggles and steals one last kiss before tilting her head back to see the Empress. Her arms are folded over her chest and though there is disapproval in her features, there is amusement in her eyes.

The Guardian gives an awkward wave and Saladin snorts but guides her to an upright position.

"Laying with the Beasts for such an act is unbefitting a warrior. I should think you'd have better sense with your Guardian."

Saladin rises and offers the Young Wolf a hand up.

"Nothing of that nature was going to occur, Empress. I suspect you've come to continue our debate?"

"I had," she allows her gaze to flit to the Guardian, "But I think we've pressed enough for tonight. Perhaps you can redeem your honor and treat her to something beyond War Beasts. Surely the Guardian would like to see the wonders of the Cabal empire."

Saladin bristles. The Young Wolf snickers and hooks an arm through his. His eyes dart to hers and he doesn't look like he appreciate the smugness.

"Very well. I suppose she hasn't seen much of the ship."

"As I recall, the last confirmed report we have of the Guardian aboard a ship, she blew it up." Caiatl remarks.

The Guardian rubs the back of her neck with a sheepish smile.

"That won't happen here. The last time she boarded a ship, we were at war."

"It was Ghaul's ship," she supplies.

"So it was." The Empress regards her before turning, "Try not to destroy this one."

"I'll keep an eye on her," Saladin sounds amused, almost like he's grateful for the distraction but not altogether sure she will stay out of trouble.

"See that you do." Caiatl departs and the two Guardians exchange a smile.

"You don't actually want a tour of the ship, do you?"

"...no, but I wouldn't mind seeing the training arena." She squeezes his arm.

The Iron Lord gives her a look of approval, "I'll do one better. A few sparring rounds?"

She nods eagerly and Saladin smiles. Without a word, they leave the War Beast kennels.

The Guardian has always enjoyed sparring with Saladin, she's missed it since his departure. It was time alone with him; away from the battles and threats. A time she could test her metal and learn from her Titan.

She'd love nothing more than to spend her visit in that arena opposite him if it meant they were granted more time. If it meant she could stay longer and see him.

But she has to return to the City in the morning. They'll likely spar a few hours and then rest before she departs.

Duty beckons and neither will want to answer.

But they will.

Guardians always do.

------------------

Taglists are open! Send an ask/leave a comment to be added!

Forevers: @halo-2​ @reaped-winnower​ @forgotten-by-the-stars​ @sugarcoated44​ @cayde-6​ @avrosaetos​

[a-driftamongopenstars]

Hmmm...spicy Saladin fic 👀

hmmm... 👀 and spicy Saladin fic you shall have, under the cut. warning, it's h o r n y and longer than my usual ficlets; featuring m!guardian x Saladin

also on ao3

Who knew it would be so unbearably hard to remain calm in the confines of the elevator when Lord Saladin is also in it.

Hard. What a joke, the Guardian thinks to himself, feeling the growing stiffness between his legs. Perhaps, it is the rarity of sexual indulgence or, perhaps, a true attraction to someone like Lord Saladin, to Saladin himself, that stifles his breath. That fills the Guardian’s mind with swift filthy thoughts that make the situation no easier.

He wants to escape the H.E.L.M. meeting. He is already craving the isolation away from the prying eyes, just so he can get it over with. He strains his vocal cords, just so no moan might escape his throat.

Lord Saladin’s gaze brushes over him, and his cheeks flush indecent red.

“You look tense, Young Wolf.”

When he replies, his lips part dryly.

“I don’t look forward to the meeting.”

“Neither do I. Action over endless talking, that is my approach. That is how we’ve won battles.”

“Commander Zavala would disagree.”

“Perhaps,” Saladin replies, and nothing more is said.

A sudden shake of the elevator brings a much needed distraction to the Guardian. When another shake comes, Saladin tenses, looking around the room for the potential source of trouble.

With another shake, the elevator comes to a halt, and the Guardian finds himself flung against Saladin, his hands curling into his Titan mark to prevent the fall.

The light flickers and goes out almost instantly.

“Power outage,” Saladin states simply, and the Guardian finds himself in utter misery of arousal as in darkness and such proximity, Saladin’s voice crawls in every cell of his skin.

He was supposed to let go of the folds of the mark long ago, but his fingers are taut. His chest moves fast as his heart beats rapidly. It is more than a now-or-never situation. It is a breach of all unspoken rules, a step in a direction that would either be an utter disaster or a never forgotten embarrassment.

The Guardian closes his eyes, listens to the rapid heartbeat in his chest, to the quiet breathing of Lord Saladin. It feels as if hours have passed since the elevator stopped, but it must have been only seconds.

Caution thrown out of the window, anxiety stomped away by the hammering of a desirous heart, the Guardian thinks no more before finding Lord Saladin’s mouth and kissing it with fervor.

To an immense surprise and with a sense of relief, the Guardian finds his kiss reciprocated.

The fire of the Iron Lord is just as strong in the matters of love making as it is on the battlefield. His tongue coaxes the Guardian’s mouth open, and suddenly the lead is not in the Guardian’s hands. Saladin’s palms rove all over him, exploring anything that is on the surface and needs attention. The Guardian moans in the Iron Lord’s mouth as his hands grasp his backside, feel the hips and waist and tug at the folds of fabric that simply need to be done away with for everyone’s sake.

Friction, pressure, heat of bodies leaves no room for hesitation.

The Guardian pulls away from that heated mouth, panting as his fingers work the buckles and straps of the mark. Then the armor, too much of it, plates and connecting tissue. Saladin’s hands leave him with no sense of stability as those strong fingers dig into his hair and tug.

“Hurry,” Saladin whispers, and the Guardian huffs as another strap comes free from the buckle. He goes from the Iron Lord’s armor to his own, competing to have them both ready and unclad.

After a moment’s fumbling, desperate seconds later, the Guardian moans in relief as he pulls at his cock, a relieved sense of pleasure quickly replaced with needy strokes of his hand. He needs this, just a few, just to get the edge off and be ready enough to do whatever they might want to do in this brief moment of aroused madness.

“Both of us, Guardian,” Saladin urges him in a low hoarse voice, and the Guardian follows the stern suggestion with no hesitation, tugging at the fabric to free Saladin’s cock as well.

It is too much to have both in one hand, and the Guardian works them together at once with his hands, rubbing at hot skin. His limited vision swims, darkened by desire. He cannot truly see Saladin’s face, but he can imagine from that hard panting that there is dryness of hot lips and a foggy tantalized gaze.

The Guardian moves his hips slightly, finding friction all too pleasant right now, and that gets a quiet, urging response from Saladin as his hands tug on the Guardian’s hair again.

There is something so perfectly vulgar about it. The rutting of two cocks against each other, and the Guardian doing all the work. His want is muffled by the fur of Saladin’s cloak, all that is audible is the rhythmic and needy sound from the Guardian’s throat. How Saladin manages to keep it together is beyond his imagination, but he doesn’t need to. So he indulges, and ruts, and moans.

“Don’t you stop,” Saladin pants, holding the Guardian tightly in one place, so he might keep on indulging.

“Not planning to, fuck,” the Guardian retorts, pressing his hips against Saladins, so that they might feel each other more.

When energy runs high, yet the Guardian’s hips tire, he wraps his hands around their cocks again and strokes. He feels skin gather under his fingers, feels the slickness spread lightly, feels the hard veins over Saladin’s cock.

Saladin’s fingers curl into his hair, bringing his head up with pleasant tension.

“Finish,” the Iron Lord speaks, an insistent request, and the Guardian knows that neither of them can last too long. So he strokes them more, finding those unbearably hot and bothered spots, presses a thumb against Saladin’s frenulum, which sends the man spending over the Guardian’s hands.

He moans, feeling hot seed spilling between his fingers and smudging over his palms. Oncoming orgasm battles against the idea of prolonging the pleasure and simply getting down on his knees to clean Saladin off with his very mouth, but another rut, another hair tug - and it’s too late to do anything but come as well, following Saladin over that searing hot edge.

It is simply shattering. His heart pounds heavily in a tightened ribcage, and his throat feels dry from the stifled moans. His clothes are a sweat and come soaked mess, and his cock slowly softens, spent.

The Guardian’s limp body rests in Saladin’s embrace. He has not let go, not for a moment, and that surprises the Guardian. Neither hurries to make themselves look at least somewhat decent, and the Guardian works through thought after thought of what just happened, groaning quietly as post-orgasm pleasure simmers down.

“Perhaps, past this meeting, we shall reconvene at my quarters and see where that takes us,” Saladin speaks. His voice is level, and only a touch of hoarseness and odd fondness betrays the fact that he and the Guardian have just… fucked.

“That would be wise.”

Saladin tightens his titan grasp around the Guardian, and they simply breathe each other in.

Dealing with the elevator situation can wait a moment more.

[fireteam-survivor]

GUYS! IT IS THE LAST CHAPTER OF THE DARK SIDE OF LIGHT!

I know it has taken ages for me to finish this saga, but, TA-DA! It is done! I hope you enjoy it!

Thanks all! I am sure Fireteam Survivor will be back!

[bittersweetbiscotti]

Watching Crow mouth off to Saladin’s “face” Uldren-style has made things EXTREMELY awkward now for poor Lyko since she was raised by Saladin, and I am here for it. 

Lyko: You really don’t mind me dating?

Saladin, who actually really wants her to enjoy normal human things: As long as you keep your duties priority, you may do as you please. 

Lyko: Great! This is my boyfriend!

Crow: Hi, I think we’ve met. >8)

Saladin: 

[shaken-veil]

Back Home - One Shot

This is not proofread. I wrote this with a bottle of coconut rum in me. Bear with me xD

Saladin x Female Guardian / Iron Grandparents / Pure Toothrotting Fluff / Nothing else to tag / Spoilers for Season of Dawn

Around the time of the Dawning, Felwinter peak was one giant snowy mess. The Iron Temple was mostly closed and only opened in the morning and evening to make sure the wolf pack wouldn’t stay outside over the night. Aine was happy to be back, though. She missed her puppies, her own cooking, her tea, the library, her warm bed and of course her husband.

But when Ikora had asked for her to help with Osiris’ newest, glorious idea, she wouldn’t refuse. Especially with so much at stake. The Sundial easily could have ripped apart the web of timelines over the whole system. The Sunsinger never spoke much with her former lover, though working with him showed that they were still a efficient team. With Siobhan’s help they managed to redirect the timelines, stabilized the corridors of time and recreated the conditions on mercury how they should be. They didn’t need her help anymore, so Aine decided to return home. She had been gone for three weeks. 

She snow crunching underneath her boots set her mind and heart at ease. Pulling off her helmet, ginger hair fell down onto her face, loosened from the ponytail at the back of her head.A gentle smile spread on her lips and she approached the templegates with quick, but confident steps. Thanks to the weather the pack hadn’t noticed her yet, which was alright. She wouldn’t want to stay in the cold weather and greet each of the wolves. 

The door at the front of the temple already opened for her when she was only a few steps away. Aine walked inside and was instantly hit by the warmth of the fires lit. A faint noise of metal clashing against one another could be heard from the back of the temple. So Saladin was working. She smiled softly and moved to the flame in the middle between the two wolf statues, holding out her hand so Lugh could transmat a few flowers into her hands. She dropped them into the fires and looked up at the monuments of her friends around her. 

“I’m back. It is good to see you all. Thank you for welcoming me back.” In her mind she silently send a prayer up to the sky so whatever power may reside there would take care and watch over them. 

The first thing Aine did was retreating to the big bedroom she shared with Saladin. She got rid of her armor and dressed in some comfortable pants out of light fabric. As shirt she chose one of Saladin’s jumpers. It was far too big her for and revealed a little bit of her right shoulder, but that didn’t bother her. She was comfortable. Aine stretched her arms up and sighed happily. Finally back home. After weeks of dealing with Osiris even her social meter was full. 

She walked out of their quarters further down the corridor to the very back, where Saladin had his workshop. Even now he was still forging weapons for the young Guardians of the tower to earn in the Iron Banner. His newest project was a bow, which she found rather interesting but right now it sounded more like he was working on a new blade? The Warlock smiled gently and peaked through the door frame. The image that presented itself to her was quite pleasant. 

Saladin was indeed working on a sword. He was deeply focussed on the task at hand, eyebrows pulled together in a concentrated frown and the dark eyes sharp, almost glowing in the light of the forge in front of him. He was only wearing a pair of leather pants and boots. Aine’s eyes followed a small droplet of sweat making it’s way down from his temple, along the strong jaw and down the neck. She clearly enjoyed the view of his muscles working underneath the dark skin. While he had gotten visibly soft with his age now, Saladin was strong as ever. Maybe even more so now that he got proper food every day, except for the time she was gone of course. 

“Did you finally decide to make Shiro an Iron Lord? Maybe they stop bothering him about the Vanguard position then.” Her voice was loud enough to be heard over the clunking sound of the hammer, a smile tugging at her lips, while she waited patiently. Saladin stopped working and lifted his eyes. The frown vanished and was replaced by a look full of warmth and love. She felt her heart beating faster. So long they were together, but he still managed to make her pulse flutter. 

“You’re home.”, was all he said. Aine nodded and approached him. Saladin put the hammer down, reaching out to place one of his big hands on her back. He pulled her closer and leaned his forehead against hers. The Sunsinger laughed quietly and pushed his head away. 

“You’re all sweaty, Saladin.” She lifted her fingers and traced the line of his jaw gently. The light stubble on his cheeks tickled her skin and he leaned into her touch, before taking her hand away and pressing a light kiss on top of it, right above where her wedding ring decorated her finger.

“Welcome back, my Lady.” His brown eyes radiated with adoration. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you, too.” They shared a long kiss then, not letting go of one another for a good few minutes. Aine had to pull away eventually to get some proper breath in and looked up at her husband, heart bursting with happiness. “I will make some tea. Finish your work and get cleaned up. Then join me at the fireplace?”

“Very well. I won’t be long.” 

Making tea in their kitchen was well known and comforting routine. Every single movement was in her very blood and she didn’t even have to look anymore to find everything she needed. Shortly after she lit the fireplace in the library with her Solar powers. Aine settled onto the big couch, back against the soft pillows and watched the flames dance, claiming each piece of wood without mercy. 

Heavy footsteps announced Saladin’s presence eventually. He was completely redressed, much to her dismay, but at least freshly showered. The curly, short hair on his head was still a little wet, when she reached for him as he sat down next to her. “I take it everything went according to plan on Mercury?”

“Does anything ever go according to plan when Osiris is involved? We fixed his problem and repaired the timelines. The young Guardians are still out there fighting off the remnants of the Red Legion, though. But this is not my job.” She took a sip from her tea and examined Saladin’s face closely. “Have you been sleeping enough, my love?” It was wise to change the subject when it came to Osiris. No matter how much time had passed, it was still a sore spot for Saladin and he really, really didn’t like him. If one put it nicely.

“It is hard to rest without my sun at my side.”, he replied smoothly with a smile. Traveler help her, she loved this man. “But I’m well. Nothing to worry about.” 

“I hope so. No hiding!” There was nothing sharp to her words. Their relationship was built on trust, honesty and patience. Saladin and Aine had found perfect balance between one another and she cherished this connection beyond all others, maybe except for her friendship to Yvette and her motherly feelings for Shaxx, Zavala, Anna and Ikora. 

With a deep sigh, Aine put down the cup of tea on the little coffee table in front of the couch. The warmth of the fireplace pulling all of the cold from outside out of her bones. She moved a little and leaned against Saladin’s side. It was such a natural thing to do, that he lifted his arm so she could cuddle up on him fully automatically. A comfortable silence fell over them. Saladin absentmindedly let his fingers draw lazy circles over the small patch of bare skin his far too big jumper revealed on Aine’s shoulder. Her pale blue eyes looked up at her husband, finding him looking right back at her with a soft expression. 

Both moved in synch it seemed and their lips met. Gentle at first but growing more insistent over the passing moments. Aine made a move and got up shortly to slip onto his lap, not wanting to strain her neck any further. She cupped his face into her hands and brushed her thumbs over his cheeks slowly. “How much longer until we have to get the puppies back into the temple?”

He frowned slightly at her calling the pack ‘puppies’ but did not comment on it. “A few more hours.” 

She smirked. “Good.” And then kissed him again. His hands started wandering from her waist up to her sides and back, growing restless. None of them noticed the blue shimmer when their Ghosts materialized next to them. 

Skadi and Lugh exchanged a short look, before Lugh decided to be the bad guy and spoil their alone time. “Aine, Saladin. I’m sorry to interrupt you but we have an urgent matter at hand. Ikora says it cannot wait.” 

The two Guardians broke apart only slightly, breathing heavy and it took Aine a little bit to compose herself again, before turning her attention to Lugh. “What is it?” Sometimes she was wondering if anybody cared that she was actually retired. 

“Sio brought Saint-14 back with her from the Infinite Forest.”, he explained. “Ikora requests both of you immediately at the tower.”

[thefangirlthatwaited]

Encounter (Chapter 140) - A Destiny 2 Story

Crow x Guardian

I stared at the seating plan, wanting to pull my hair out. Why did this have to be difficult?

“I think we can put the Cabal back here. That way, they won’t block anyone.” Crow said, moving Caiatl’s name. 

“That would mean Saladin would be moved to the back too, and he might be a Titan, but he’s not Cabal-sized.”

“True, but it’s one person not being able to see versus a large group.”

“You’re right.”

“I know.” He chuckled, kissing my head. “Now, the real problem.” Crow held up Mara’s name. “Where do we want to put Mara, Petra and Jolyon?”

I groaned. “I wished they didn’t RSVP.”

“They did, and now we have to make a decision.”

My head hit the table. “I don’t know. Outside.” I grumbled.

“Ruby...”

“I know...” I grabbed my glass of wine and looked over the chart. “We should keep her close to Zavala and Ikora, but I don’t want her close to us.”

“Fair,” Crow furrowed his brow and then smiled. “Here?” He asked. “It’s close to the Vanguard but far from us.”

“Fine.” I took a swig of my drink. “Is that everyone?”

“Yep. We just need to glue this together, and it will be ready for the wedding.”

“In four weeks.” 

“In a month,” Crow confirmed.

I looked over our to-do list and felt overwhelmed. “We have so much left to do.”

Crow took my hand. “It’s the little things. The flowers, the twin’s outfits and the final selection for the cake.”

“We also have our final fittings and the rehearsal.”

“Artemis.” Crow sighed. 

“It’s been two weeks since we spoke. She’s supposed to be my unofficial maid of honour, yet she won’t even look at me!”

“Have you tried to apologize?”

“Why should I?” I hissed.

Full chapter on Ao3