#commander zavala x female Guardian

[lilyrose-terraharuka]

I FUCKING LOVE FEMALE GUARDIAN/READER X VANGUARDS (Commander Zavala, Ikora Rey, and Cayde-6) FANFICS!!

WE NEED MORE OF THEM: BOTH SFW AND NSFW!!

[fireteampassenger]

Fireteam Passenger Vanguard File

> REMOTE VANGUARD DATABASE TEXT-ONLY SEARCH INITIALIZED.

> WELCOME, USER "HOPE".

> PLEASE ENTER SEARCH QUERY.

.> Fireteam registry

>PLEASE INPUT NAME OF DESIRED FIRETEAM

.> Passenger

>3 SEARCH RESULTS FOR: Fireteam Passenger. MCGRATH, A: MCGRATH, K: R-8. WHICH FILE DO YOU WISH TO VIEW?

.>McGrath, A

>ASHLEY MCGRATH. CLASS: HUNTER (GUNSLINGER). GHOST: TALLO. RACE: HUMAN. HEIGHT: 1.85 M. WEIGHT: 81.193 kg. SEX: FEMALE. EYES: GREEN. AGE: 1214. COMBAT STATUS: ACTIVE.  MARITAL STATUS: MARRIED (See file: MCGRATH, K). AFFILIATIONS: VANGUARD (FIRETEAM SW-52097, CALLSIGN “PASSENGER”, FIRETEAM DS-621, CALLSIGN "DEGENERATE"), SHADOWS OF YOR (DREDGEN), DEAD ORBIT (FORMER). KNOWN ALIASES: DREDGEN EALAIN, ROWAN, LIARIA OAKLEY. MEDICAL HISTORY: HOSPITALIZED FOR 1+ YEARS FOLLOWING AWOL INCIDENT (SEE FILES: CAYDE-6, ULDREN SOV, SCORN, TANGLED SHORE). DIAGNOSED WITH COMPLEX POST TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER. SCAR ON LEFT SIDE NOT HEALED BY GHOST. NOTES: INTERESTED IN MUSIC, HAS COMPILED SEVERAL PLAYLISTS STORED IN GHOST WHICH ARE PLAYED DURING COMBAT. OUTSPOKEN, COMEDIC, GENERALLY LIGHTHEARTED. HAS TRIED TO START A GUARDIAN STAND UP COMEDY GROUP.  JOVIAL NATURE COVERS C-PTSD, SUBJECT WILL OCCASIONALLY FALL INTO LONG PERIODS OF INTROSPECTION DURING WHICH THEY ARE UNCHARACTERISTICALLY SILENT. DISTRUSTFUL OF COMMANDER ZAVALA. HOSTILE TOWARDS QUEEN MARA SOV. FAITH IN TRAVELER SHAKEN FOLLOWING ENCOUNTER WITH SAVATHUN, PRAXIC INVESTIGATION ONGOING. MILD ACROPHOBIA.

.> Add to file: A hunter scared of heights, what gives sister?

>YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO EDIT THIS FILE

.> Grant permission to user

> YOU DO NOT HAVE THE AUTHORITY TO GRANT PERMISSION

.> Please?

> QUERY NOT UNDERSTOOD

.> Access file, McGrath, K.

> KYRA MCGRATH. CLASS: WARLOCK (STORMCALLER). GHOST: PUCA (NOTE FROM SUBJECT: No, I didn’t know about the Poukas on Neptune, I’ve been calling her Puca for centuries before we found Neomuna). RACE: AWOKEN. HEIGHT: 1.73 M. WEIGHT: 81.6 kg. SEX: FEMALE. EYES: ORANGE. AGE: 653 COMBAT STATUS: ACTIVE. MARITAL STATUS: MARRIED (SEE FILE: MCGRATH, A) AFFILIATIONS: VANGUARD (FIRETEAM SW-52097, CALLSIGN “PASSENGER”), FWC (FORMER), CRYPTARCHY (FIELD RESEARCHER). NOTES: ARTIST, HAS SOLD SEVERAL PRINTS TO OTHER GUARDIANS. CALM, LEVEL HEADED, ANALYTICAL, INTELECTUAL. AMONG TOP 3% OF VISITORS TO CRYPTARCH ARCHIVES. PRACTICES PRE-TRAVELER FAITHS, FLUENT IN OLD SWEDISH, SPANISH, GERMAN, POLISH. PRESENT IN VEIL CHAMBER DURING SHADOW LEGION INVASION. RUMORS OF ACCESS TO PRE-RESURRECTION MEMORIES, PRAXIC INVESTIGATION ONGOING.

.> Access File, R-8.

>ROOK-8. CLASS: TITAN (SENTINEL). GHOST: BISHOP. RACE: EXO. HEIGHT: 1.95 M. WEIGHT: 176.47 kg. SEX: X. EYES: YELLOW. AGE: 1,514. COMBAT STATUS: ACTIVE. MARITAL STATUS: SINGLE. AFFILIATIONS: VANGUARD (FIRETEAM SW-52097, CALLSIGN “PASSENGER”), IRON LORDS, PILGRIM GUARD. NOTES: STERN, BLUNT, AND QUIET. REGULARLY PATROLS CITY WALLS. THOUGHT TO BE AMONG THE OLDEST GUARDIANS. FORMER WARLORD FROM OLD BERLIN. PARTICULAR TRAUMA SURROUNDING EUROPA, WILL NOT TAKE OPS TO PLANET. HAS NOT USED STASIS. SUBJECT HAS CLOCKED LOWEST R&R USAGE OF WALL PATROLS. HAS REFUSED PSYCHOLOGICAL TREATMENT. SECURITY CAMERAS SHOW SUBJECT REGULARLY VISITS ROOFTOP CLOSE TO CITY CENTER (MATTER INVESTIGATED. CONCLUSION: NO CAUSE FOR ALARM). 

.> Access combat record for Fireteam “Passenger.”

> REQUEST DENIED

.> Access combat record, “McGrath, A”

> REQUEST DENIED

> ALERT: ADMINISTRATOR CONNECTED

> I see you, rat.

.> USER “HOPE” HAS DISCONNECTED

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Ikora,

VIP #1315 is showing particular interest in this Fireteam and I don’t like it, especially his interest in VIP #2014. I’m getting tired of telling you, let me remove him from the Tower and shut down his little game. I don’t care what knowledge he has or that he helped rescue VIP #5812 from Titan, he’s dangerous.

Aunor 

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Aunor,

No.

Ikora

[littleshebear]

My babies staring down a potential apocalypse together, don't they look fab? 💖

Thank you so much, you did a fantastic job.

Donation Commission of Commander Zavala and @littleshebear ‘s Sasha.

[a-driftamongopenstars]

Hope youre doing better! :0

How about some horny times with a guardian and the commander? 👀

hello anon, thank you for this prompt!! :) this was really nice to write and I hope you enjoy some beautiful love making over here! i also picked f!guardian, if that's okay, because I was kind of in the mood for that :D

also, thank you for asking, it's a bit of a rough patch right now, but I'm trying my best!! <3

also on ao3

Zavala prefers discipline and structure to all parts of his life. There is a single, exception, however, and that is her. The Guardian.

How she has charmed him with her character! How she drew his breath away with those marvelous eyes and body of the valkyrie. If he had an ounce of talent, he would wax poetics about her, quite literally.

But with no such ability, he picks another way. More intimate.

On an impulse of unclear thinking, Zavala has her pressed against his desk. It is a late hour, and the room is locked tight. No one to hear, no one to see. Only the expanse of the City below behind a fogged window.

The Guardian's body is hot against his. Armor only partially down, enough to let them have access to each other. His chest against her back, and his hands on her chest, caressing in such a way that makes her sigh. The shivery sound of it goes straight down Zavala's spine.

He wants her.

Zavala needs her ready. He would not dare hurt her, and that is only another reason to feel her need for him, the shivering thighs and skin covered with goosebumps that feel so tangible under his fingertips.

"Commander..." she breathes as he touches her, fingers slipping through wetness to find her clit and bother, and bother it. Soon, what was sighing becomes drawn out moans. Zavala listens to her, heeding every sound she makes, every response of her body to him.

He kisses her shoulder affectionately, the spot that is not covered with cold armor. Her hair tickles his forehead, and he smiles.

"By the Light, you are beautiful."

She responds with another sigh.

Zavala stops the touch and moves closer. He wants them to enjoy together, and with ease he slips his cock in her, ready and relieved. In several careful thrusts, the pace is set, and all that breaks the silence is the sweetest love making tune of their moans.

The Newton cradle on the desk clicks, matching their pace.

The more he takes, the more he gives. Zavala's lips press kisses to that sensitive skin, sure to leave a mark. The Guardian's hands hold tight onto the desk, and then onto his hands over her hips. She becomes restless, needy, and Zavala feels her nearing the sweet release.

He is not sure he will hold any longer, too.

It hits them one after the other, with a little more effort for the Guardian. She trembles, nearly folded in half, were it not for Zavala to hold her.

Undressed and indecent, they hold onto each other, panting, their bodies grateful for the temporary relief of strained muscles.

"Love..." Zavala whispers, turning the Guardian around as she slides her arms around his neck.

"Love," she responds quietly, as if she wants only him to hear that and no one else.

They kiss, love making sealed.

Feel free to send me a prompt :)

[littleshebear]

Destiny Fanfiction: Truth

Some self-indulgent Dawning-related fluff I wrote last year but never posted for whatever reason. Here’s a dark age, kinderguardian Zavala learning about the power of myth and stories, then teaching those lessons back to a Guardian Sasha.  

Commander Zavala | OC: Sasha | Zavala x OC | Zavala x Sasha | Mutual Pining | The Dawning | Anxious Ghosts | Gratuitous story-telling

Crunch!

“What are you doing?” 

Crunch!

Zavala trails behind Sasha, watching her bunny-hop through the snow outside the gathering hall. He had recommended they leave when Sasha had reached for her knife after the tenth or so suggestion that they get a room. 

“It’s really satisfying,” she replies, jumping onto another patch of virgin snow. Crunch!  “You should try it.” 

“Is it calming you down?” He cocks his head, smiling at the incongruity of a woman who can snipe three Fallen Vandals in as many seconds, playing in the snow like a child. 

She turns to face him, grinning brilliantly. “I wasn’t actually going to stab anyone, you know.” There’s a series of gratifying crunches as she hops towards him. “You worry too much.”

“I’m never sure when you’re joking.” He hazards reaching out and brushing the back of his fingers against her chill-flushed cheek. She doesn’t flinch or pull away, a fact he finds infinitely more pleasing than the sound of freshly-trodden snow. “It’s cold, you should get inside.”

“No,” she protests, taking his hand in hers. “I’m not tired yet. Come on.” She leads him back towards the festivities but eschews the main hall. The normally sterile winter air is alive with the scent of woodsmoke and roasting meat. They weave through the crowds until they reach one of a few braziers dotted around a larger bonfire. There’s a group of people gathered around the open air fires listening to Matushka hold court. Sasha warms her hands over the flames and smiles up at him. “There. I won’t freeze to death, happy now?”

“I just worry.” 

“We already established that,” she says with a chuckle. “It’s endearing." He looks sceptical so she adds, "Really.”

He nods towards the old woman. She speaks with a clear, ringing voice, in a language he doesn't understand. “What is she saying?”

“She’s telling stories.” Sasha smiles softly, unmistakable pride creeping into her expression. “Matushka knows them all. We lost so much during the Collapse but alot of our legends made it. The Fallen could burn as many archives as they liked but you can’t burn down an oral tradition. So long as there are storytellers, the stories will survive.”

“Which story is this?”

Sasha takes a moment to translate. “How Lake Baikal came to be. Well, one version of it, there are a few.”

“I thought it was seismic activity?”

“No!" She gives him a playful smack on the arm, before hedging. "Well yes. But no. It's an old, old legend. I’m no Matushka but I’ll do my best. So, Old Man Baikal had three hundred and thirty six sons and one-”

“Busy man, this Baikal.” 

“Shh!” She gives him another light tap on the arm. “He had three hundred and thirty six sons and one daughter, Angara. She was said to be the most beautiful woman in the world, so Baikal became jealous and cruel. He locked her away and refused to let her see anyone. She spent her days in loneliness and misery, the birds where her only contact with the outside world.” She paused to listen to Matushka speak for a while, before continuing. “One day, the birds brought her news of a young man named Yenisei who had heard of her plight. The birds carried messages between them and they fell in love.”

“Birds can’t talk.”

“It’s a myth, Luchik, work with me here. Suspend your disbelief.” She sighs to compose herself. “So. Yenisei came to rescue Angara and they managed to escape Westward. When Baikal realised Angara had fled he became enraged. He picked up a massive boulder and threw it at the young lovers to try and stop them.” The lake is shrouded in darkness but she knows exactly in which direction to point. “The Shaman Stone, that’s the rock he threw. It sits at the source of the River…" She expands her palm outwards in a revelatory gesture, "Angara! When Baikal realised he’d lost his daughter he wept and wept until his tears formed the lake.” 

Sasha falls silent again and rests her head on his shoulder as she listens to the end of the story. “That’s how Lake Baikal and the Shaman Stone came to be. And that’s why three hundred and thirty six rivers flow into Lake Baikal and only one, the Angara, flows out and merges with the river Yenisei.”

There’s an outbreak of murmurs and discussion from the gathered crowd as Matushka finishes the story. Zavala says nothing for a time, he just gazes into the flames in front of them. “I don’t understand,” he says, eventually. 

“What’s not to understand?” Sasha asks.

“Why do you still tell these stories? You know they’re not real. You know that these rivers and lakes happened because of tectonic plates, glaciers and what have you, not a possessive old man’s tears.” 

“Just because they’re not real, that doesn’t mean they’re not true.” She need not  to look at him to know that his brows are almost certainly knitting into a confused frown. “We don’t tell these stories because we literally believe them. They tell us things about ourselves. There are truths in myth.” 

“Very well, I’ll bite,” he says, putting his arm around her shoulders. “What’s the truth about an angry old lake spirit throwing rocks at his daughter and her lover?”

Sasha relaxes against him, drawing on his warmth as well as that of the fire. “Well, I think it tells you about what love really is.” Zavala holds his breath, hoping that she can’t feel how much he’s tensed up all of a sudden. “Yenisei loved Angara. He wanted her to be free but Baikal...” Sasha pauses, leaning into the embrace. “Baikal said he loved Angara, he claimed she was the most precious thing in the world to him but. Well, that’s just it. She was a thing to him. He kept her locked up like a jewel in a box. That’s not love. That’s possession. In trying to hold on to her, he lost her. Attachment like that, it’s…” She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “It’s not healthy. If you love someone, if you really love them, you have to be willing to let them go.”

Zavala closes his eyes and encircles her with his arms, as if to relieve her of the weight of the words she's just spoken. “You don’t need to do that, Sashenka. I meant what I said.”

She returns the hug, the way her fingers sink into the fur of his jerkin belying her words. “If you need to leave for the Traveler after the thaw, I won’t stop you.”

“I’m not leaving.” He plants a kiss on top of her head that seems to serve as a full stop. 

They stand in silence for a while, watching the fire and listening to voices that float over from the main gathering. Sasha eventually interrupts the quiet with a question. Zavala knows she’s trying to change the subject but he’s willing to let her. “Don’t you have stories? The Awoken, I mean. Aren’t there stories in the Reef, creation myths, tall tales?”

“There are, I guess but…” Zavala hedges. He guesses there are but he’s damned if he can remember any of them. “We left. Maybe our stories didn’t have enough truth to them.”

Sasha tips her head back to look up at him. “So make new ones.”

~*~*~*~*

“Zavala!” Izanami flitted around Zavala’s head like a gadfly, nudging his shoulder and purposefully blocking his view of his work. She wove left and right trying to lock his gaze with her optic. “It’s the first night of The Dawning, that’s enough now. You haven’t even looked at the Dawning Crystal, Ikora really outdid herself this year. The night shift is here. Everyone else has left, you’ve got no excuse...”

“The Dawning isn’t going anywhere, The Dawning can wait a few minutes while I finish up.” He replied, gently pushing her out of his way.

“We’re going to be late, Amanda will kill us.”

“First of all, we’re not going to be late and secondly Amanda will not-”

“She’s been working hard on this dinner, if we’re late she will literally kill us.”

Zavala pressed his lips into a thin line. “Literally? Words mean things, Izanami, you know I don’t like it when you do that.” The little AI’s shell was quivering with nervous energy. If he didn’t know that Ghosts didn’t eat, Zavala could swear she was hyped up on too much sugar from Dawning treats. Maybe it was psychosomatic? Could Ghosts pick up on the mood of over-excited humans? No matter, the root cause didn’t change the fact that she was actively delaying him rather than hurrying him along. 

“Let’s go!” She pleads, turning in an impatient pirouette.

“The more you pester, the longer this will take. You go on ahead, tell Amanda I will be there in twenty minutes.” He raises an eyebrow for emphasis. “Literally, twenty minutes.” 

“Fine.” His ghost turns to leave before abruptly turning back to face him. “But if you’re late and Amanda does kill you? I’m not rezzing you.”

“Thats a risk I shall have to take.” Zavala returned to his work with a wry shake of his head. It wasn’t just dotting i’s and crossing t’s in these missives to the Speaker. For his own peace of mind, he had to be sure the hand over to the Night Shift was properly handled and besides, there were Dawning-specific social niceties to think of. His conscience wouldn’t have allowed him to head off to a celebration without personally thanking each and every one of the staff who had volunteered to work over this festival. It was a selfless act and that was something that spoke to Zavala’s pride in his City like nothing else.

When he finally left, he decided to take a brief detour to take a look at the decorations around the Tower. As the Dawning Crystal hove into view when he ascended the steps to the plaza, he had to admit, Izanami was right. Ikora had outdone herself. A warm feeling bloomed in his chest as he took in the sight of the lanterns strung around the plaza and the snowfall filling in the footprints of raucous guardians armed with snowballs. He turned towards Traveler’s walk; the view from there during winter was always lovely and that area was less likely to be used as a snowball field of conflict. As he suspected, it was far quieter there. It was silent save for the sound of two feet jumping simultaneously into the snow over and over. He followed the sound to see who was making it.

Sashenka. No, he couldn’t call her that, not anymore. Hunter. Guardian. Those were the only appropriate names now. She was leaping, two feet together, from one unsullied patch of snow to another. She would occasionally pause to stamp down the snow into ice before moving on. He shouldn’t be there, he could practically hear his Ghost urging him to leave, telling him what a terrible, terrible idea it was to stay. Yet, there he was. Rooted to the spot, taking in every detail; How beautiful she looked bathed in the combination of lantern and Traveler light, the snowflakes settling on and standing out against her black hair, how similar she was to that woman he fell in love with centuries ago. How very discomfiting it was how often she challenged his assertion that Guardians were not the same people they were before they died. 

Sasha did a one-hundred-and-eighty degree turn. Her laugh when she stuck the landing was suddenly cut short when she saw Zavala watching her. She staggered to the side, spoiling the pattern of double footprints she’d left in the snow. She gave an awkward wave. 

“Evening, Commander.” 

Zavala responded with a respectful nod and crossed over to her. “Hunter. Enjoying your first Dawning?”

She shrugged and nodded a little too vigorously. “Uhm. Yes?”

He frowned at how unconvinced she sounded. “No plans for tonight?”

“My friends are having a party.”

“Your friends.” He held her gaze. “But not you.”

She exhaled slowly and seemed to deflate. “I’m just not feeling it.” The lines on Zavala's forehead deepened, signalling a demand for an explanation. “It’s not a real festival. It’s all made up.”

“Not real?” 

“It’s cherry-picked. It’s a hodge-podge of different cultures.” She bowed her head and looked up at him through apologetic eyelashes. “It seems fake to me.”

Zavala brushed some snow off a nearby bench and gestured for her to sit. 

“Did I say something wrong?” She asked, sinking down, her shoulders hunched up as far as they’ll go.

“No,” he said,settling on the bench beside her. “Just consider the possibility that just because something isn’t real, that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.” He paused to let her respond but her only answer  was knotted brows, so he continued. “Rites, rituals, festivals. They give structure and meaning to our lives. You don’t have to believe in the reality of the Dawning to believe in the truth of the message behind it.”

“Which is?” 

“How did you feel when you were first resurrected?”

“Scared. Lonely, I guess. Doesn’t everyone feel that way at first?”

“At first, yes. Being awoken, alone, without even the memory of who you once were to keep you company is a hard thing to bear. I know I felt adrift, with only my Ghost to keep me right.”

Sasha shook her head ruefully. “It’s hard to imagine you as a confused kinderguardian. You’re so-”

“- Choose your next words carefully,” he deadpanned.

“Stolid.” She grinned up at him, waiting for his reaction.

“All right. That’s an acceptable description.”

“Well I’m relieved, Commander,” she said, through soft laughter. “But what does this have to do with the Dawning?”

He smiled, allowing himself a modicum of pride in the fact that he can still make her laugh, stolid as he is. “I was scared, yes, lonely too but I found people. Made friends, formed connections. The same goes for the refugees who came to the Traveler and founded the City. The collapse was culturally devastating, so much was destroyed; Histories, languages, communities. We lost our stories, we lost those things that teach us about the world we live in. So we salvaged what we could and made new stories. We took what was true, what mattered and made new festivals to preserve them. We survived. We joined together and were stronger for it. We rebuilt. We are the light in the Darkness. That’s the story the Dawning tells. That’s what it’s for. So yes, it’s constructed. Made up, if you will.” 

“But it’s true. It's the City's truth. I get it.” She gave him a sly, sidelong glance.“So it’s not just about cookies and presents?”

“Well, no. A big part of the Dawning is about celebrating family and friendship. Cookies and presents help with that, I suppose. So go. Be with your friends. Eat drink, be merry, for tomorrow we fight.”

Sasha rose and vigorously shook her head, theatrically ridding her hair of the snowflakes that had settled there. “Wait.” She smoothed her hair out of her face and looked intently down at him. “You’re by yourself. Do you have somewhere to be? You can’t be spending the Dawning alone, not after that speech you just gave me.”

“I have somewhere to be,” He reassured her as he got to his feet.

“Oh. Well. Good.” She seemed relieved and perhaps a little disappointed too. Zavala couldn’t be sure but he wondered if she’d started forming an invitation in her head. He decided that was just egotistical wishful thinking on his part. It was safer that way. 

“Happy Dawning, Guardian,” he said with a respectful nod.

“You too, Commander.” She pivoted her foot as if turning to leave but the rest of her body didn’t follow suit. “And thank you.”

“For what?”

“You always know what to say.” She shrugged, as though that were completely obvious.

“I’ve had some very good teachers.” 

If Sasha were intimidated by the intensity of his gaze, she didn’t show it. She stared back at him for a not uncomfortable couple of seconds before finally blinking several times and looking away. She drew up her hood with a sheepish smile and a mumbled, “G’night.”

Zavala didn’t move. He watched her make her way down the path, waiting, hoping for her to grace him with another glance in his direction. Amanda Holliday’s amused drawl over his comm unit eventually distracted him from his vigil. 

“So your Ghost wanted me to tell you that you’re officially late, Commander.” 

“Are you going to kill me? She was at pains to tell me you would literally kill me if I were late.”

“Nah, you’re fine,” she explained. “You’re officially late, not Zavala-late.”

“What is Zavala-late?” he started ambling down the path once Sasha was finally out of sight.

“Half an hour after the official starting time. That lets you squeeze in all those one last, one last things you always have to get done before you leave work. So you’d better get down here before your Ghost has a nervous breakdown.”

“I’m on my way. I’ll see you soon.” He turned off his comm unit and halted where the path met a patch of snow-covered grass, deciding that he had one last, one last thing to do before he went to dinner. He regarded the pristine, gleaming expanse of white with a serious expression. He glanced around furtively, looking to make sure no one else had entered Traveler’s Walk. When he was sufficiently satisfied that he was alone, he put his feet together and bunny-hopped forwards onto the snow, chuckling softly to himself. 

[shaken-veil]

Even Iron Lords......

Lord Saladin x Lady Aine as the Iron Grandparents / Commander Zavala & Ikora Rey as the difficult children / Fluff / Silly

The time after an Iron Banner was the most quiet for Aine and Saladin. They returned from the city, settled back into their normal everyday life at the Iron Temple, took long walks with the wolf pack. Before they left, however, they took the time to meet with Zavala and Ikora for dinner. The small apartment of the two Iron Lords here wasn’t big, but it was enough. The table offered enough space for four people to eat.

Aine secretly already made plans to have a bigger dinner sometime in the summer, where they could invite most of their family. She missed cooking for more people than just the two of them.. Her thoughts wandered, while she was busy with the last preparations, decorating the plates, opening the wine bottle, when two strong arms wrapped around her waist and a bearded chin placed itself on her shoulder. She could feel Saladin smile against her neck. “Don’t we want to cancel the dinner?”, he mumbled into her red hair.

Aine softly chuckled and shook her head. “No, we can’t. Everything is ready. Help me set up the table?”

So they did and once everything was ready for their ‘children’ to visit, Aine leaned against the small kitchen counter, watching Saladin stretching his arms up and the dark green jumper offered a bit of a view on his stomach. A slow smile appeared on her and she tilted her head to the side. Her cooking was doing a pretty good job on him, as it seemed. She didn’t mind, though. With his age he didn’t have to be all steel and muscles.

“Aine?”

Her name caught her attention and she looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “Yes, love?”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah sure.. Just..” A sharp knock on the door interrupted her and she went to open the door. Aine looked into Zavala’s bright blue, gentle eyes and instantly pushed herself on the tiptoes to press a light kiss to his cheek, earning a bit of an awkward smile from the man, she called her son. Once he entered, Ikora was revealed behind him. The two of them actually came together. That was great progress. Aine was relieved to see these two working on their relationship and becoming better for everyone and each other again.

She hugged the younger Warlock fiercely and they shared a short laugh. “Welcome, dear. Table is already ready.”

“Aine.. I told you, you wouldn’t have to do it all by yourself.” Ikora frowned slightly, but she waved her off.

“I didn’t. That’s what I have Saladin for.” The two women walked into the small apartment and everyone found their place at the table. They shared a pleasant dinner with quiet conversations, embarrassing stories from the two Vanguard’s youth and sometimes somber remembrance of their lost friends and family. All and all it was a very nice evening and badly needed.

“Aine, your cooking can’t be beat by anyone. Hasn’t changed for centuries.” Zavala leaned back and looked quite pleased and relaxed, taking a sip from his glass of wine. Aine held a hand on front of her mouth to silence a giggle but she couldn’t hide the grin on her face.

“Thank you.. I certainly hope so. I see it on Saladin everyday.” She gave her husband a side glance, who was obviously confused for a moment before realisation rushed over his face, still overthrown by the shock about what she just said.

“Oh yeah, I can agree.” The two Titans exchanged a glance and Aine couldn’t help herself and started laughing.

“May I remind you, Zavala, how many of these Gjallardoodles you had for the Dawning?” Saladin narrowed his eyes and focussed very much on his former student, not wanting to let this go.

Ikora and Aine looked at one another, highly amused and still drinking their wine.

“That’s something different. They were gifts from the Guardians.”

“How is this different?”

“They’re not presented to me everyday.”

“Are you suggesting to deny my wife’s cooking and baking?” This was typical Titan discussions. Stubborn to the bone the both of them. The only thing that was missing that they were throwing punches at each other. Titan lectures..

“It was just a joke, love.” Aine gently placed her hand on top of his and gave it a gentle squeeze. Saladin huffed, irritated as he was. “With your age it’s perfectly normal…”

“I’m not old!” He paused for a moment, looking at her absolutely offended. “Or fat!”

Everyone else at the table shared a good laugh from that. She leaned over to press a soft kiss to her husband’s cheek, putting one of her hands on his back. “No, you’re not, love. Don’t worry about it.”

[phantomwarrior12]

Can you do a shaxx x female void titan 🥺

Thank you for this wonderful request! I’ve never written another class other than Hunter, so I hope this is what you were hoping for, anon! Thank you again! ^.^

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In The Dark

An unstoppable force, a wall of Light that  Guardians would rally behind in the Crucible.

It's what she is.

The Young Wolf treads that line between Light and Dark and she holds it.  Not even Stasis - the essence of Darkness itself - frightens her. The Void is the closest to the abyss and she has harnessed its power for the Light.

It's what he loves most about her. She is fearless and yet, she is gentle. Titans - they are attributed a great many traits, but never gentleness, never warmth. And yet, here he is. His head on her lap, her fingers combing  soothingly through his hair in his darkened quarters. Neither have spoken for an hour and yet both are content with the silence tucked around them like a warm blanket.

This is home. This is where they are meant to be.

His head shifts ever so slightly, pressing the softest of kisses against her thigh and her hand stills. His eyes lift and she is smiling, the dim moonlight casting across her features, filtering through the blinds over the window. His eyes lift and she traces lightly over a scar on his brow - those same eyes flutter shut beneath her touch.

The pad of her thumb is rough, calloused from her gloves and the relentless recoil of her weapons. But beyond that - beyond the tender brush of skin against skin, there is what he can only describe as a spark - a warmth almost. It soothes him, washes over his frame until sleep weighs heavily upon his mind.

"It's late," he remarks after a moment, his usually resounding voice quieted by a single touch. And yet, it's still too loud in the comfortable silence they've resided in, he almost regrets interrupting it.

"It is," she agrees softly, fingertips tracking down along his cheekbone.

"Commander Zavala is expecting you for a Strike in the morning." He reminds her, reluctantly opening his eyes to gaze up at her.

She tilts her head with the most innocent of smiles, "Are you asking me to leave, Lord Shaxx?"

"...no."

She tilts her head as if to encourage him to continue. Her lack of speech often results in the Warlord deciphering subtle shifts in her features. Sometimes he believes that she doesn't realize how few words actually leave her lips and some nights - some nights she's like this. Offering the occasional remark or jab. It's her idea of playfulness and each time, the Titan cannot find it in his heart to be anything but amused.

"You could spend the night here," he offers at last, propping himself up on one elbow as he shifts onto his side.

She frowns slightly, her eyes flickering over his features with a curiosity to them and dare he suggest - uncertainty.

"Your ship won't be as comfortable as a bed, you should be well rested before a mission and," he smiles warmly, " I can see you off in the morning."

"Lord Shaxx--"

He gives her a stern look, "What have we said about titles this late?"

He could swear he sees a subtle blush creeping into her cheeks. She is magnificent. He watches her open her mouth to speak but nothing comes out and she looks down, almost as if she's ashamed. Lord Shaxx sits up, his hand moving to settle along her jaw and it's enough to drag her gaze tentatively to his own.

"I'll make it easy, Guardian. You're staying."

She smiles as if to laugh, and whereas there had been doubt as to whether or not she'd blushed before - there is mistaking the crimson tinting her cheeks now.

He closes the distance between them, capturing her lips in a tender, yet passionate kiss and her rigid frame melts against his before he gently guides her onto her back. He lingers a moment longer before laying on his side, "It's late."

She nods, curling up in his arms as her forehead settles against his chest, eyes fluttering shut and her breathing evens out as his hands massage soothing circles along her spine.

"Sleep well, my Sentinel. The galaxy awaits your shield."

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

Forevers: @halo-2 @reaped-winnower @genken64

Shaxx's Guardians: @ataraxia101 @squirrel-stars @rain-wolf

[a-heart-in-spades]

a heart in spades

Pairing : Cayde-6 x Female Human OC Guardian Rating : M (eventually explicit) 18+ only, Minors do not interact! Word count : 965 Warnings : Angst, Slow-burn, Canon typical violence, Heavy language, Romance A/N : It’s been a long while since I’ve written anything solo. This is purely self-indulgent, not beta read, with minor editing/drafting.

Confidence was something that Cayde-6 could wear like a seamless mask. A carefree attitude mixed with jokes that he never failed to hand out at the most inappropriate times, and it was always a tough decision whether to laugh, or cringe, in those moments. But he never failed to make light of a serious moment to break the tension, to keep people from falling into that spiral of negativity.

So, when it was his turn to slide, no...tumble down that hole of despair, that mask fell, cracking as it hit the floor. It shattered, and everyone could hear it for miles, echoing off the lips of passersby, carried by the wind through the streets.

Six months had ticked by, time had slowed to a creep as the Red Legion kept its hold on Earth. The tower was still a mess of rubble that littered the streets of the Last City. Memories of a second golden age were nothing but debris under the heavy boots of Cabal foot soldiers that patrolled the once-safe inner sanctum of the Traveler's shadow. It had taken a dedicated and ballsy entourage of fireteams to breach the walls and take back what was rightfully theirs from Ghaul and his army. Lives had been lost before and during this battle until Ghaul had been turned to dust in the wind by the giant ball himself.

Even with the sun free from Ghaul's Almighty, the Traveler released from its light-siphoning cage, those lost lives weren't coming back. There was no amount of humor that could ease the pain the shattered fireteams felt. Guardians clutched the shells of their Ghosts close to their chests. Graves had been marked along the trail that many guardians took on their way out of the city.

At least for those whose bodies and Ghosts had been recovered.

Cayde couldn't cut down the stalks of guilt that threatened to engulf him. It was his people that had suffered the most loss. Many Hunters hadn't returned from their patrols, out there in the wilds, alone and oblivious as to why their light had so suddenly been ripped from them. They had been out there on his orders, his command.

Somewhere in the hangar, the echo of metal clattering to the ground followed by a disgruntled groan barely registered in Cayde's mind. It was too full of all the faces he had yet to see come back after their return to the city. One hunter, in particular, kept circling back around. He had been there when they were risen by their Ghost. He watched them grow from a clumsy, unsure guardian into one of his best Hunters. Knowing that they hadn't returned yet meant one thing and one thing only. That scared the absolute shit out of Cayde.

❝Hey, big guy. You lost in your head again?❞ The sweet southern drawl from the mechanic was just barely enough to yank Cayde from the confines of his thoughts.

❝What? No, of course not. I was just letting my eyes rest.❞ Cayde scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he lifted his eyes to the blonde.

❝Mhm...So I finished that project you asked of me. What do you need a ride like that for anyway? Planning on running from Zavala?❞ Watching the quirk of her eyes, Cayde knew he was in deep shit. If Amanda hadn't already told Zavala that Cayde had her working on the fastest speeder she could, she would soon.

❝Amanda. Manda. Mandy. You know I would never do such a thing. I thought you knew me better than that. It's not Zavala I'm worried about anyway. It's Ikora. It can go faster than anything she has, right?❞ A hint of panic dripped into his words at the last moment. Ikora was the one that scared Cayde the most. She was as serious as they came, never laughing at a single joke he cracked. Though there was one time, he thought he saw her crack a smile.

❝'Course. But you never answered my question. What do you need it for, Cayde?❞ There was a more stern suspicion in her eyes now than before, something she accentuated by crossing her arms over her chest.

❝Oh, you know, fresh air, some off-world racing for glimmer. The usual.❞ Averting his gaze, Cayde prayed she didn't read him like a book, something she'd always been able to do.

❝You're going to go looking for her, aren't you?❞ He wasn't sure what the tone in her voice was now, maybe realization mixed with disappointment? His jaw tightened as the lights in his head dimmed. ❝Cayde...❞ His name was spoken despondently. ❝You scoured that place for weeks and found nothing. It's been months. You know I'm all for holding onto hope, but she ain't coming ba-❞

❝Don't.❞ It was one word, spoken with such vehemence, that Cayde heard Amanda's teeth clack together before she could finish her sentence. ❝Don't. Please.❞ He couldn't keep up that facade anymore, not when the subject came to her. No matter how long it had been, no matter how long there had been no word from her, he couldn't give up looking. Not until the gears in his joints rusted and turned to dust. Not until the last fabricated breath left his figurative lungs. He'd never stop looking. ❝It's what she deserves.❞ Even if it was just her body that he found, she deserved to come home. ❝I have to bring her home.❞ The tremble to his words had him clearing his throat and pushing away from the support beam he had been leaning against.

❝Cayde, wait.❞ Amanda called out to his back, a plea that he ignored.

❝Sundance, get me on my ship.❞

[lilyrose-terraharuka]

2023 Tumblr Top 10

1. 102 notes - Oct 11 2023

2. 81 notes - Oct 26 2023

3. 20 notes - Apr 7 2023

Imagine that you were depressed over the loss of someone that you barely knew, feeling guilty for not being friends with them...

4. 18 notes - Mar 11 2023

Antis, stop harassing Proshippers. Just block and ignore them.

5. 16 notes - May 25 2023

What the fuck is going on Tumblr and why is anyone leaving it? I'm having a major anxiety attack when im writing this.

6. 16 notes - Apr 16 2023

I FUCKING LOVE FEMALE GUARDIAN/READER X VANGUARDS (Commander Zavala, Ikora Rey, and Cayde-6) FANFICS!!

7. 16 notes - Feb 7 2023

8. 14 notes - Nov 28 2023

9. 14 notes - Apr 11 2023

To anyone who doxxed the creator of Welcome Home, you can go fuck yourself and I hope you can get arrested for criminal...

10. 7 notes - Sep 7 2023

After almost a year, you're telling me that Ikora's last name is "Ray"... not "Rey" or did I messed up? Okay brain, stop fooling...

Created by TumblrTop10

[sp00kworm]

Can I maybe... ask for... some 😏 with Drifter? Like reader comes back from a super long mission for his least favorite people I.e Vanguard and he’s just relieved she’s alright and some adult things happen... 😉

Pairing: The Drifter x Female Reader

Warnings: Adult Content below the cut

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The Snitch

You smelled like Vex milk and swamps. Io was the single most annoying planet to visit when the Vex decided to try build new spires or fight tiny wars with the Taken. You’d spent the past week searching through the Pyramidion for a single piece of important data. A location of another, vaulted small Warmind. It had never been finished in its construction, but the Vew were looking to scavenge final pieces of its data input. They wanted old strongholds and access to weaponry that was never fired. Stopping them had been a task. A week of shooting, running and tearing open the middle of many robots before you’d managed to access the Warmind and properly vault the data before destroying it, blowing the old AI up with a mass of scavenged charges from the area. It was sad to see such ancient technology gone, but you booted up your tablets and laughed at the AI fiddling with the programs and building itself a little home in your information.

‘The world that I was never able to see ��� Delilah’

It would no doubt be a bad idea, but you’d gotten into the habit of defying what the Vanguard told you to do. The AI was toned down thanks to your own work, no longer a program for killing, but a small snippet of the personality that enjoyed simply organising data. Hopefully it wouldn’t backfire in your face.

 “Guardian. Report.” Zavala woke you up from your ship controls. You jolted awake in the leather chair and groaned at the pain in your back. Your Ghost flitted into being and answered the Titan.

“We’re here…Sorry. She was mid-nap.” He laughed awkwardly as you pushed fingers into your back, attempting to rid yourself of the burning pain. Ghost tutted and set to healing the muscles as you patted your cheeks to wake yourself up.

With a deep breath you opened the communication link properly, “Commander.” You addressed, voice thick with sleep.

“I trust you were successful in stopping the Vex’s attempts to access Warmind data?” He snapped. In the background you could hear Ikora talking over something with someone. It was a council meeting.

You yawned and scrubbed at your hair, “Yep. The Warmind is gone. I had to blow it up before leaving. Most of the Vex created were wiped out and the data you requested has been wiped and salvaged.” You yawned again as you sat back, your Ghost taking over automatic piloting of your ship once more, “I’ll be back within the day.”

“Very good, Guardian. Safe journeys.” The line closed with a click and you groaned at the sharp Commander, making faces at your Ghost as you headed back towards the Tower.

 Your scolding and general debrief under Zavala had gone on far longer than you wanted. They’d wanted everything destroyed. Delilah observed that Zavala was a hardass from inside your helmet, and you had just enough willpower not to break down laughing as he signed paperwork and muttered. You knew that one person in particular would be upset with you. The Drifter, as everyone named him, would be furious that you had ignored his messages in favour of heading to the debrief. You signed off for the night as Delilah pottered around your tablet, sorting data and growing interested in your private messages.

“Delilah. Out of those please.” You hissed at the tablet as you tried to craft a message for the man who was never in one place for too long. He wouldn’t be by the recaster at the moment, not with the slight of being blatantly ignored for the day.

‘Curious images – Delilah’

“DELILAH PLEASE!” You closed all the tabs and huffed at the repurposed artificial intelligence, “Can you send The Drifter a message, please? Tell him to meet me around the back of the Hangar. He’ll know where I mean.” The AI typed a message and you sighed as she signed it with her own name then yours.

‘Look alive, sunshine. I’m at the door already.’

You jumped at the voice message from the couch and growled at the laughter behind your door. The small apartment seemed smaller as you opened the door to the rogue.

 “Did ya miss me?” The man swaggered in, thumbs tucked into his sash belt as he moved into your entry way and looked at the couch, “Because to me,” He flicked a coin and snapped it upwards, tucking it back into his sleeve, “It comes across like you don’t want to see me at all.” He huffed, running a hand through his dark hair in frustration, “That damn Vanguard has had you from me for a week, kitten!” He snapped as he pulled his gun out of his sash, laying the hand cannon on the side with a metallic clank, “They better have had a good reason or so help me…” He flung his arms out and snarled, “I’ll take my concerns to Zavala, and that ain’t gonna be pretty, you bet.”

“LISTEN TO ME!” You snapped at him, holding up your tablet to show the reports, “I had to destroy an ancient warmind and wrestle a future from the Vex and all you can speak to me about is how long I was gone?” You tossed the tablet at him, “Spare me the lecture, Drifter. I haven’t got time for your old man peacocking!”

Fury turned into sadness on his face before he lamented, “I’m sorry, kitten.” He apologised gruffly, “I shouldn’t have raised my voice… but I…They have you more than I ever do. I’m sick of listening to them whittle on and on about my operations while they run their Guardian’s ragged.

“That’s because I work for the Vanguard, Drifter.” You stood in front of him with a scowl, “Not you.”

 The anger and upset disappeared with a lazy smirk before he leaned back against your countertop, “That’s because you decided snitching on my operation was worth more than my feelings.” He teased, “Well, snitching utterly wrong information that is.” He reached a gloved hand and dragged you closer by the hips, pressing you up against his hard front where guns and assorted buckles dragged against your skin. His hands gripped tightly at your backside as you squirmed, unhappy with the sudden arrangement.

“Snitching the wrong information to save your backside.” You huffed as he pushed your mouths together, needy, hungrily for a taste of his mouth. His facial hair was abrasive against your chin and cheeks as he pushed his tongue against your lips teasingly.

“More because it means you don’t have to put a gun to my head.” He hissed against you ear, “And you won’t have to try and pull the trigger.” The Drifter hitched you upwards, fingers reaching to pull away your bottoms down your thighs.

You pushed aside his scarves and the high collar of his coat to expose enough skin to deliver a harsh nip to his neck, “I wouldn’t miss if I did.” You teased, even as naughty, rough fingers, moved to slide against your opening, testing the slickness between your thighs.

The Drifter watched you drag open his trousers and smirked, “Hmm. A discussion for another time.” He teased as your hips collided roughly, “Right now, I think I have to show you just how much I’ve missed you.”

[dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd]

Until I’m given a dialogue wheel and flirting options

[literupture]

It’s nearly been a year since I first posted my Dawning Destiny 2 fic! My Tumblr settings were wonky at the time, so I’m pretty sure the original post didn’t show up in the tags, so... I’m reposting it again, this time with (hopefully) the correct settings! Happy Dawning! 

“Banking Dark Chocolate Motes”

[AO3] | [FFN] | [Original Tumblr Post]

Summary: After spending weeks baking sweets for her other friends, Vallory decides she wants to bake something for a special someone.

Rating: M (language, some sexual themes.)

Ship: The Drifter x Female Guardian

The bland, serious walls of the Tower underwent its seasonal change slowly at first, but when the whispers of The Dawning started, it was as if the Traveler flipped the stronghold’s festive light switch.

Vallory always treasured this season, and one reason was because it came after the Festival of the Lost. The Dawning was a time to feel more alive after spending the duration of the Festival remembering her fallen friends. She’d always found it easier to celebrate their lives after the Festival ended, anyway. Something about the painful reminder of their faces on the memorials made it harder for her to move on.

The air at this altitude could be sharp and unwelcoming, but everyone did their part to spread the warmth. Families taught their children how to make special paper lanterns that would be infused with Solar light from initiate warlocks, every booth had a heater set up from maintenance, hot beverages were made and passed out every hour. It was a nice, warm place for active Guardians to come home to after their missions.

Vallory especially appreciated the difference in volume. As a Titan, she rarely had much time to relax her ears. Around this season, the Tower replaced its evenly spread busy clamor for concentrated spots with idle chatter. Vallory wasn’t too picky about it, but it certainly made the place feel more like a hub instead of a flea market.

But there was something extra special about this Dawning. About two weeks earlier, Val saw an elderly woman dressed in knitted clothing leading some groups in decorating, and the Titan immediately dropped what she was doing to greet the woman. It was none other than Eva Levante, whom many Guardians and other Tower-goers lovingly referred to as Shader Grandma.

Eva Levante seemed to remember every face here, which is one of the many reasons why people loved her. She also gave the best hugs–Val felt its warmth even through the bulky plate armor that she wore.

Eva had also set up her family’s grand oven, and many civilians and Guardians learned how to bake that same day. Vallory was one of those newbies; she always had an interest in cooking, but lacked experience when it came to baked goods and other sweets. Eva was quick to make Vallory change from her battle armor into more comfortable clothing, saying that it would not be wise to wear metal when working with a hot oven. It became routine for the Titan to switch into casual clothing before landing her jumpship at the Tower’s Hangar. She made sure to visit every day, and spent at least a few hours baking every visit. She’d spent the past couple of weeks baking and delivering sweets and pastries to her friends and comrades, from cinnamon-dusted Gjallardoodles for Commander Zavala, to Awoken Corsair-themed frosted cookies for Petra Venj.

“Whatcha baking today, Val?”

Vallory looked up from her mixing bowl. A thick, dark brown batter rested inches from the lip of the large wooden container. Her bright yellow-green eyes met the hazel eyes of a younger, shorter, tanned girl in dark-purple robes–Karyna, her best friend.

“I’m uh… trying my hand at a certain recipe,” Vallory replied, then resumed mixing the batter with a wooden spoon. She focused on blending the ingredients, hoping that Karyna wouldn’t notice the hint of a blush on her light blue cheeks.

“Oh? Which one?” Karyna inquired, leaning over the counter to get a closer look at the mixture. Her caramel brown hair was choppy and uneven, like she had cut it herself. It stopped just short of her shoulders, framing her face. The girl’s face had lighter splotches of skin scattered about it, and people often mistook it for war paint. In fact, Vallory was one of those people, but she learned later on that Karyna had vitiligo. “Can I help? Where’s the recipe? Is there a recipe, or are you just making one up?” The warlock’s inquisitive eyes scanned the items on the table: basic baking ingredients like eggs, flour, milk, butter, and sugar… along with a small glass container of peppermint extract and a large bag of dark chocolate.  She seemed to come to a conclusion. “Oooh, peppermint! And dark chocolate! I don’t think I’ve seen you make this one yet!”

“You haven’t, because this is my first time making it,” Vallory said with the tiniest hint of exasperation. She liked to think she was used to her bubbly friend and her rapid-fire questions, but that wasn’t the case. “And I appreciate the offer, but I kinda wanna make this one on my own.” Satisfied with her work on the batter, Vallory began to scoop it out onto two baking pans, smoothing them over evenly with the spoon.

Karyna’s nose crinkled as she frowned, but her disappointment lasted just a moment. “Oh, alright,” she conceded. She placed her elbows on the counter, and was about to rest her head on her gloved hands, but then she quickly shot upright, alerted. “Wait!” she exclaimed, then continued with a sly smile, “these are for a special someone, aren’t they?”

The faint blush on Vallory’s cheeks became more prominent, and she knew she’d been caught. “Shut up,” she said, upon seeing Karyna opening her mouth to speak again. “It’s not like that.” She turned to place the baking sheets in the oven, trying to hide her stupid grin.

“Oh my Traveler, you are truly an awful liar,” Karyna teased, hopping up to sit on the cleared space of the counter. Her small frame took up very little of the hard surface, and her legs dangled several feet off the ground. Vallory turned to glare at her, and Karyna added, “well, you’re an awful liar when it comes to doing cheesy or wholesome stuff.”

Vallory wiped her hands on her apron. “I hate you,” she lied, then crossed her arms and leaned against the edge of the countertop, near her friend.

“Is it for…” Karyna’s gaze moved over to an isolated corner of the courtyard, where there was a partially raised gate. “The Drifter?” she whispered.

Vallory’s eyes followed her gaze. She said nothing, only bit the corner of her pink lip, hoping to stop herself from saying something stupid.

“Maybe,” Val muttered, then swore under her breath. Eh, oh well, she thought, for nothing she could do would disprove the obvious. She looked at her warlock friend out of the corner of her eye. The girl was grinning at her devilishly. Val rolled her eyes, trying to downplay her embarrassment.

“Well, Val,” Karyna started, and the expression on her face became smug. “I won’t try to make you feel any worse than you probably do right now, but I just wanted to say,” she paused, taking in a deep breath. “Since I first became a Guardian, I’ve seen you with so many partners that I’ve lost count. And of the ones I do remember, I know that’s not even half of your total.”

At this, Vallory regained her composure. Karyna was right; she did find her way around, and there was nothing wrong with that. If anything, she was a little proud of her sexual endeavors.

“But,” Karyna continued, “this is definitely the first time I’ve seen you do anything like this for any of your partners.”

The Titan could feel her neck and cheeks getting red with color, even with her Awoken-blue skin. Karyna was right–everything Vallory did was either casual or done as a joke, and she certainly never did anything for her partners that didn’t result in sex. When the idea to bake something for The Drifter first came to her, her intentions were pure. Mostly. Any interaction with the shady individual was hardly pure.

“I dunno,” Vallory began, and a soft bell chime interrupted her. She uncrossed her arms and slipped on a pair of quilted red oven mitts. “I just thought I would do something nice for a change. And you know he doesn’t exactly have a… ‘safe’ diet.”

Karyna snorted at that. “Ha! And here you are baking him sweets!”

Vallory swatted the girl’s shoulder. “Whatever, you know what I mean.” She strode over to the oven, removing both trays with ease, and set them on another counter to cool them. It didn’t take long, due to the cold weather.

Karyna hopped down from her counter and stood beside Vallory, who had procured a triangular metal cutter, and assessed the freshly baked goods. Val’s mouth watered at the smell, but she quickly pressed the cutter into the pan. She repeated this until she had turned the two blocks of brownies into a large platter of stacked triangles.

“Wanna try one?” Vallory asked, holding out a brownie for her friend.

“Do I?” Karyna beamed, then seemed to remember her manners. “I mean, yes. I would be honored.”

The warlock plucked the brownie from Vallory’s fingertips, and they both bit into their respective pieces. It was warm and soft and seemed to melt in her mouth. The dark chocolate was rich but not overwhelming, and the peppermint left a cool aftertaste. It reminded her of the chilly sensation she got when she first held a Mote of Darkness in Gambit, and the rush of blood when she hopped through the invasion portal for the first time.

It was perfect.

A low hum came from beside Vallory, breaking her out of her reverie. She looked over to see her friend’s eyes closed, a blissful expression on her face.

“Well?”

“I think he’ll love it.”

Vallory smiled sheepishly. “I sure hope so.”

-x-

After she carefully wrapped the plate of brownies with clear cling wrap, Vallory hung up her apron for the day. Karyna had wished her luck with delivering the brownies and suggested that Val should buy some milk, so she stopped by a dairy stall and bought a half gallon.

Now she stood by the gate to Drifter’s hideout, balancing the platter on one hand and holding the jug of milk in the other. She took a deep breath to compose herself, and slowly ducked through the opening.

“Knock knock,” Vallory said, standing upright. In the corner of the dim room she saw the back of a man in a long, dark leather coat with fur shoulders. He was hunched over a work bench, so the top of his short black hair and the black bandana wrapped around his forehead were barely visible. His gloved hands were tinkering away at a hand cannon. She noted the Tex Mechanica logo on the barrel and smiled; he had good taste in weapons for sure.

The Drifter turned his head, the fur on his pauldrons tickling his chin. His blue eyes skimmed over Vallory, and he smiled in recognition. “Well, if it ain’t my favorite Guardian,” he said, placing his tools down. He turned to face her, his demeanor all swagger, and grinned that winning smile that made most people uncomfortable but always made Val feel relaxed. “You don’t look like you’re here for some Gambit,” he said, noticing that the brown-haired Awoken girl was not wearing her usual black bulky armor, but instead she stood before him wearing a black turtleneck sweater and a dark blue pair of jeans. Her dark clothing made her light blue skin and bright eyes more noticeable, and even though he’d seen her plenty of times without her armor, the sight of her momentarily stunned him.

The Drifter’s gaze moved to the objects in Vallory’s hands. “Oooo, what’s that ya got there?”

“Just a little something I made for you,” Vallory responded, moving to place the brownies and milk onto a free spot on a table. She unwrapped part of the plate and removed a brownie, then offered it to him. “Dark chocolate motes.”

The Drifter took the pastry from Vallory’s hand, the tips of his gauntlets brushing lightly against her bare fingers. She could feel her skin getting hot; she was immediately thankful for the poorly-lit room and the fabric of her sweater covering her skin.

She watched his scarred face as he took a bite of the brownie and chewed. “Mmmm,” he said, with his eyes closed, and Val shuddered. There was something about that noise that pleased her; it was low and and almost rhythmic. “You’re always feedin’ me,” he said, opening his eyes. “And here I thought our setup was casual.”

Vallory shrugged, then smirked at him. “I can’t casually feed the guy I casually fuck?”

At that, The Drifter let out an honest laugh. “Fair enough.”

She watched him eat the rest of the brownie, then he popped open the jug of milk and took a swig. “Thanks for the grub, Miss Chosen One.”

“Thanks for letting me share,” Vallory smiled at him. They locked eyes for a moment, and she seemed to consider something, but shook the thought away. She told herself that she had just wanted to do this nice thing and be on her way, at least this time. In the spirit of The Dawning, she told herself, even though she wanted nothing more but to hang out here in his shelter, away from everyone else.

“Well,” she finally said. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

Val could’ve sworn that she saw a hint of disappointment in his icy blue eyes, but she told herself that his desire for her to stay was different than hers, even if it was just this once.

She moved to leave, but paused. “Hey, Drifter?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, Hotshot?”

Vallory leaned towards him and swiftly planted a kiss on his cheek. “Happy Dawning,” she muttered, her face still close to his. She was starting to feel embarrassed again, and she didn’t want him to catch on to that, so she quickly strode away and out of his corner, ducking under the gate.

Vallory didn’t get to see The Drifter lift his fingers to his cheek, where she had kissed him moments ago. She didn’t get to watch the surprise on his face turn into a huge grin, or how he cursed at himself under his breath afterwards.

[creative-frequency]

Cayde-6 x Reader: The Trigger Ch. 3

Word count: 1904 Pairing: Cayde-6 (Destiny) x Female Reader Contains: Rating eventually up to mature/explicit. Cayde being Cayde, hunting, trips into the EDZ, bickering

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Confidence usually grew with experience and experience was more valuable than Glimmer outside the walls of the Last City. The inhabitants of the wilds only traded in lives.

The bow string tensed in a swift, fluid motion with no time for thoughts to surface. Sharp gaze found its target quickly and stayed on it. There was almost nothing that could stop the predator about to pounce on its prey. And success always felt good.

Success, when your life literally depended on it, felt even better. The sweet rush of adrenaline, all instincts strained to their maximum capability. The focus. Your quickened but steady heartbeats were the foundation of the effort. Your body was the actor.

For the time of an exhale, the forest around you was still and silent. Only the sharpest ears could’ve been able to hear the air splitting. The mild pumping of adrenaline pounded in your ears with each beat as you waited.

Cayde’s admiring inhale of surprise was the first sign that your arrow had hit its mark. Not surprising, but satisfying nonetheless. The deer was taking its last breath as Cayde hurried to release it from its suffering.

“Nice shot!” he complimented and you saw how he eyed the bow in your hands with a glint in his optics. The background noise returned with a snap.

“Thanks,” you said quietly and looked over at the animal. It was a female of average size, probably a bit on the older side. Its movements had been slower than of the one from before. An easy kill, but it was probably for the best. Some other predator would’ve soon snuffed its life out.

As usual, you clicked on the communication device in your ear and waited for someone to answer. After the Guardian had made rounds around the EDZ, the connections had gotten a lot better. Begrudgingly you had to admit things would’ve been a lot worse without her. It was hard not to be thankful, especially since everyone around you, Suraya included, seemed to worship her.

“Come in,” a familiar voice from the survey unit replied. He wasn’t a Guardian, but he had worked at the Tower before the invasion attack. That didn’t make you like him more.

“Ready for transmatting,” you said as you eyed the deer. It was a good catch. You had been lucky.

“Copy that. Just a moment…”

You waited for a few seconds, trying to ignore the look on Cayde’s face. His gaze was glued to the bow in your hand and his head was tilted in a thoughtful gesture.

“Ready to receive whenever.” A hint of an amused chuckle got through the coms. “You were quick today.”

You didn’t reply but drew in a sigh.

Cayde’s Ghost circled around the animal and projected a transmat beam over it.

“Transmatting now,” Sundance said.

The comm device buzzed and clicked once in your ear before the clearance order got through. It was another thing that was hard to admit but having a Ghost along in the wilds did have its benefits. Unfortunately, it was always a package deal with a Guardian.

You let your posture relax and turned to Cayde.

He jumped to his feet from the ground and cheered. “We’re a good team! High-five! No? Okay. No high-five.”

You left him hanging and continued walking. A small pool of blood was all that was left of the deer and you felt relieved in a sense. It wouldn’t matter if you didn’t find anything else to hunt that day. Your daily quota had been hit for several upcoming days.

“Alright, that’s it then?” Cayde asked in a hopeful tone and swept dirt off his backside.

You bit your lip and let your eyes wander around the forest. The sun was still high, and the sky was clear. It would be a shame to waste such a clear day but staying in the wilds with Cayde wasn’t tempting either. Going back early for a proper rest wouldn’t be so bad once in a while. The Farm had nothing to worry about food-wise so there was no sense in trying to find more prey than what was currently needed.

“I guess,” you said when you couldn’t think of anything better to imply the hunt was concluded for the time being.

“Sooo, we go back now?” Cayde inquired.

You shrugged while walking. “You can stay here if you want.”

He hurried after you. “I know I said it already, but I’ll say it again: Great team. Us.”

“I don’t really do team,” you replied dubiously. It almost felt bad to shoot Cayde’s enthusiasm down like that, but you weren’t up for a bonding session with a Guardian.

“Okay, let’s just stay in the basics, then. I’ve got your back and you’ve got mine. That sort of thing.” He wasn’t ready to give up and as annoying as it was, it was slightly moving.

“I won’t hesitate to leave you to the wolves.”

“Ouch!”

Almost a full minute of walking in silence ensued with Cayde grinning behind your back.

“Can I say something else?” he asked, definitely not about to wait for your permission, “It’s been kinda rough for these past few days, but you’re making it hella lot easier for a lot of people.”

You cast a sideways glance at his sincere tone.

“Right. Where’s this coming from?” you asked.

Cayde shook his head, amused. “Can’t take a compliment, can you?”

“Not really.”

“Anyways, this was great. I’m looking forward to the next trip already. Now how far is the Farm? I’m craving a sandwich…” Cayde babbled, his voice trailing off in your ears as you focused on finding the right path.

Having someone cheer for you had left an unknown sense of warmth. You didn’t know how to deal with something like that. You quickly settled into the familiarity of ignoring most of what Cayde was saying, but his presence no longer felt like having a pebble in your shoe. It was almost comforting to hear someone talking as you trekked through the woods. And he didn’t expect you to reply anything besides the occasional mumble.

It was weird. As if he was constantly trying to cheer you up.

After walking for over an uneventful hour, Cayde began to pester you about taking a break.

“Oh man, my legs are killing me!”

He slumped onto the trunk of a fallen tree. You gingerly followed him, leaving a wide gap between you two.

“I don’t know how you do this every day,” he continued, blue optics fixated into you.

The forest around you was still and silent. Apart from the occasional chirping and faint rustling, the gentle wind blowing between the trees was the only sound. The midday wasn’t popular time for animals to be moving around.

You stretched your legs, reaching your fingertips towards your toes. “You’re just out of shape, Mister Vanguard.”

“Oi! That’s unnecessary and rude. Aaand probably true,” Cayde admitted with a chuckle that you joined into without realizing it.

It was good to stop to just breathe the fresh air once in a while. It was rejuvenating. You reached your arms up towards the sky and breathed in deeply.

Cayde cleared his throat.

“There’s something I wanted to ask.”

You turned to look at the Exo, brows lightly scrunched in suspicion. “Then ask.”

“What if…” Cayde began in a sly tone and it already drew a slight sigh out of you.

“Yeees?”

“Let’s say I wanted to, uhh, pull my weight here. What should I do?” He stared at you, completely, uncharacteristically serious.

“Stay out of my way,” you wanted to say but bit your tongue. If the Guardian really wanted to make himself useful, you shouldn’t shoot him down. Or Suraya would shoot you down as soon as she would hear about it.

Cayde looked at you intently, waiting for a reply.

“You need a bow,” you finally said.

“YES!”

“Talk to Hawthorne about it. Tell her I said so.”

“I will. Thanks.” He pointed finger guns at you and you rolled your eyes, hard. “Y’know how I said I’ve missed going out? They can never make me go back in.”

“Who’s ‘they’?” you asked, though the answer obviously included the Vanguard Commander.

Cayde shrugged. “Zavala and Ikora, I guess? Okay it hasn’t been that bad, but still…” Cayde looked up to the sun peeking behind the treetops.

Your gaze lingered on the happy expression on his face. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

“Hey, are you hungry? I think I still have a snack bar in here somewhere…” Cayde shoved his hands into his pockets and pulled out something wrapped in bright green. “Wanna share?”

You cast a dubious look at him. “Is that what you eat in the City these days? ‘Cause I’d rather starve.”

“What? Oh no, we do have real food. Like… ramen!” Cayde suddenly looked dreamily at the sky, the snack bar still hanging in his hand. “Man, I miss ramen.”

“So I’ve heard. Like a nine thousand times during these past few days,” you quipped.

Cayde turned to look at you and snapped the bar in half. He offered the food to you. “Well, if things turn out as well as they should, I’ll treat you a bowl when this is over.”

You were taken aback by his sudden offer and the wistful tone. Maybe he really did consider you a some sort of friend? You accepted the bar. It tasted like paper, so no surprise there.

“You think it’ll go down in your favor? Things are looking pretty bad for you guys…” you asked quietly as you munched the snack bar.

“Of course! You’ve got nothing to worry about,” Cayde said instantly, “Zavala is on it. Ikora too… And we have the Guardian. We could really have a shot at turning this around. Don’t you think?”

You cast your eyes to the forest floor and pursed your mouth into a thin line. You shouldn’t have asked. The snack bar was crumbling in your grip.

Cayde squinted at you. “What?”

Your eyes snapped up to look at him, realizing your reaction had been utterly suspicious. “Huh?”

“What’s with the long face?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“You don’t like Guardians but–”

“That’s not it!” you yelped. “I do want you to get the City back.”

“More room for you in the forest, eh?” Cayde tossed the leftovers of the bar into his mouth. He didn’t sound too convinced. “I don’t know who rubbed you in the wrong way, but not all Guardians are that bad. Look at me, for example! I’m great!” He pointed at himself with a thumb.

“’Not all Guardians…’” you muttered under your breath. Cayde was right, of course, but you really didn’t want to continue talking about it.

“I’m curious, y’know,” he said in a vain attempt at making you talk, but it only made anxiety rise bile into your throat.

“I bet you are.” You hopped off the log and shook your legs a bit. “Let’s go.”

“What? Already? It’s been like three minutes since we sat down!” Cayde whined but jumped down too. He didn’t really have a choice. Or he did, but that one was to anger Zavala by getting separated from you and getting lost in the wilds of the EDZ. And Cayde was rather fond of the last life the Light had left him.

“Okay, wait up! I’m coming!”

Next Chapter - Coming Soon!

Tagging: @bleucommelhiver @lucianhuntress @singlebecauseofthechocobros@sherniwrites @owlwrites @toastyfiction @sevansheart @xcayde6

[dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd]

“Is that what we’re calling it now” plus tHe JAw ThiNG 😍 *swoons everywhere* *dead*

OK. Kiss meme with Zavala and Sera number 18! Took me a while to pick a number, was such a difficult choice.

18, “Kisses because I missed you and you really shouldn’t stay away so long.

This took forever and a day to write because of personal life crap and the fact that I seem to be fine with writing Bungie’s characters but writing my friend’s OC’s gives me anxiety. But it’s finally here! And on the same day we got some lovely fanart of Sera from the extremely talented @illiksis!  This isn’t proofread so expect me to come back with copious edits for spelling/tense mistakes. Commander Zavala | OC: Serafina | Zavala/Female Guardian | Awoken telepathy shenanigans | Slight raunchiness | The Jaw Thing

[Don’t be angry with her.] Neptune’s entreaty over their ghost/Guardian bond was gentle, yet emphatic.

[I’m not angry with her. I’ve just been worried,] Zavala replied. [I just didn’t think she’d be away this long. Not after everything she went through.] He watched Serafina crossing the plaza towards the stairs that lead to the hangar, off to report to Cayde, no doubt. He gripped the railing beside him when her gaze met his. She stopped briefly, as if to say, “soon,” before continuing on to the hangar.

Keep reading

[thedistantstorm]

Phoenix Protocol

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 (END.)

Epilogue: 

“It’s so nice not to be bogged down with full combat armor,” Miyu chimes, the warm spring breeze kicking up flower petals and rippling the banners all around them. She spins once, her light robes flaring for good measure. She still keeps a sword tucked into her sash, but it's clear that she's far more comfortable.

Zavala hums indulgently when she returns to his side. Her fingertips dance across the back of his palm and he shuffles just the smallest bit closer, enveloping his hand with her own.

“I need to visit Tess,” She informs him, and he nods, gesturing for her to lead the way. “I’d like to get Lilith a present.”

“I don’t know that Tess has anything that isn’t green and gold, Anata,” He informs her. “The Revelry’s adornments are a bit... Earthy.”

“Something that matches her optics might please her,” Miyu considers, “But I’m certain Tess will have some loud, girlish shaders, maybe left over from Crimson Days?”

“Perhaps,” He relents. “Shall we?”

Eververse isn't busy, the majority of Tess's customers have been coming later in the afternoon as opposed to mid-morning. It's unsurprising, considering the Guardians have been carrying on late into the night, celebrating the season. When they approach, Tess is reorganizing her inventory following a night of record sales. She turns when a shadow is cast over the bundle of Revelry gear she’s just placed on the shelf.

“Looking for something, Guardi- oh,” The normally shrewd businesswoman stalls as her eyes trail from the Warlock’s snow-colored eyes to the familiar red cording of her bond. “This is a surprise. What can I do for you?” She recovers, ignoring Zavala’s pointed look in lieu of addressing her most… interesting prospective customer.

If Miyu catches on she doesn’t show it, inquiring, “May I see what bonds you have in stock?"

Tess narrows her gaze, confused, asking pointedly, “Not happy with the one you have? It's one of a kind, you know. The Commander here was rather specific about it's every detail."

Miyu’s hackles go up, shoulders wound tight, her brows pulling together fast. She keeps any concern from bleeding into her voice. “Not at all,” She shakes her head immediately. “I want to get something for my friend. Hers took a beating on our last mission.”

“So you like yours-”

“Tess.”

"Yes." Her diamond eyes blink up to Zavala, whose gaze softens monumentally under her scrutiny. Tess could almost gag at the shift in the mood, but she's got glimmer to make, and the information she's gathering is far too good to get squeamish now.

“Anyway,” The Awoken shop-keep segues, turning back to her assorted shelves, “Are you looking for a custom design? That will take longer.”

“She changes her mind too much for me to invest in something like that,” She gently cups the intricate knot that's wrapped around her upper arm, at the bottom of her deltoid. The faintest brush of a hand at the small of her back has her looking up at Zavala for a beat, her smile soft, before regarding Tess. "Do you have anything for the Revelry that would look good with a pink shader?”

“Of course!” She huffs, indignant. “I have plenty of options for you.” She procures a box from a nearby rack of similar containers stamped with the Eververse logo. "Look these over, and I'll see what kind of Shaders I can turn up for you. How gaudy are we going?"

"As bright and shiny as we can," Miyu answers, with a delicate laugh.

With the Awoken shop-keep rummaging through the back, Zavala leans in close to look with her through the smaller boxes with Warlock Bonds that are contained neatly within the larger package. The ones at the top are intricately engraved with flower-like sigils, clearly a limited run to celebrate the inaugural Revelry. Beneath, there are others, but none seem to fit what the demure Warlock is looking for.

"Nothing caught your eye? Hang on," Tess instructs, setting down an armful of Shaders on the table beside them. "I know just what you're looking for," She calls over her shoulder. "Eva is technically selling it down the way, but I'm sure she won't mind if I help myself to one. I helped her design it, after all."

The Bond is a simple, thick band, covered with chrome finish, and features the flowery symbol of the Revelry like a projection. Miyu hums. "Yes, with the right shader, she'd love it."

"Take all the time you need to decide," Tess obliges.

Miyu turns to Zavala. "Help me," She begs, pouting, "I don't know anything about color combinations. Just that I don't like any of these."

The Commander frowns. "She likes loud, yes?" He confirms.

"And it has to be sparkly." Miyu matches him, leaning in closer to him go look down at the collection of shaders.

Tess sighs, shaking her head, watching them from the corner of her eye. Never did she think she'd see the day the Commander willingly walked the Tower with a suitor. She can admit there's something terribly endearing (almost disgustingly so) about the combination of the two of them... Although, it's a wonder he didn't commission her bond in a clashing color scheme. And if she thinks the Commander to be an authority on style, well.. Tess isn’t quite sure under which rock this particular Guardian's been living.

But, then again, who is she to judge?

[shaken-veil]

Happy Birthday @distant--storm. I made a small sketch of her Warlock Bean and Zavala... on his favorite spot..hehe... I hope you have an amazing day sweetie <3