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imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese · 3 months ago

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Dawning Oasis ILLUSTRATION BY ROBYN!!! *falling over in happiness*

I do not know if there is a greater joy for a writer than for a beloved artist to have drawn something from their words. I was able to commission @haykebyr aka @dredgensimp and of course I begged for Drifteris.

To my great delight she chose to draw a scene from my story A Dawning Oasis.

The Drifter’s eyes shifted as he talked to a visiting guardian in the Annex, tracking movement behind them. For just a moment his entire face lit up in uncharacteristic glee and then he resumed his usual detached-but-friendly expression. His smile never faltered as he accepted the dark chocolate motes being gifted to him.

He nodded appreciatively at the guardian transmatting away and then his eyes flicked back, snake-like, to focus on the silhouette of an additional shadow in the Annex doorway, his smile becoming a delighted grin. Eris Morn stepped out of the darkness, her green glowing orb in her hands.

“And here I thought my Dawning couldn’t get any better!” The Drifter flipped the coin in his hand into the upturned helmet on his work table, landing it perfectly without even looking at it, as he stepped forward, arms wide offering a hug he knew she would decline. “How’s everyone’s favourite former Hive god doin’ today?”

“Germaine,” Eris glanced over her shoulder before walking up to him swiftly until she was close enough to reach out and lay her hand lightly on his wrist. “I have come seeking refuge.”

“Any time, anywhere, Three-Eyes,” he said, his voice flirtatious while his eyes flicked over her face, carefully analyzing. His gloved hand shifted to brush his armoured knuckles up against the inside of her wrist through her own gloves. She did not flinch away.

“I find myself wearing thin, my composure fraying. It is worse than usual this year. I seek solace… a respite from the near-constant persecution.”

A look of concern came over his face. The flirtatious grin was gone. “Of course Moondust,” he said quietly. “Is it… nightmares?”

“No. I can handle those. I can handle the screaming of the Hive through the ascendant plane. I can handle the whispers. What I cannot handle is…” She looked up at him and sighed deeply, her hand on his arm tensing. “...the cookies.”

The Drifter threw his head back and laughed. “Sick of ascendant oatmeal raisin already? Wanna trade? He spread his free hand out and indicated the set of small boxes piled up on his work table. I have enough dark chocolate motes to last me for the next century. Don’t tell our heroes, but I’ve been sneaking down to the Eliksni quarter every night and redistributing the Dawning cheer.”

“I have nowhere to redistribute mine. They are in piles everywhere. On my work tables, on my ritual surfaces, on the bed, the counter, the floor. I trip on them when I wake. I stumble over them when I try to go to sleep. Even now I fear well-meaning guardians will find me here with you and inflict more upon me.” She stepped closer to him, her voice a low whisper. “If I were to never see an ascendent raisin again, or any raisin for that matter, I would not sorrow.”

His eyes glittered in delight at her willing invasion of his personal space.

“Got a gambit match starting in seven minutes,” he said quietly, not wanting her to move away. “Come up to the Derelict with me and watch the show? Best seat in the house, and… not a single cookie on the entire rig.”

He raised an eyebrow enticingly, tilting his head.

“None at all?” Eris asked hopefully.

“Derelict’s a cookie-free zone, Moondust. Not only that but anyone transmitting on board, that ain’t with yours truly, goes straight to the gambit ready room. They won’t be able to find ya if you’re with me. No festivities. No decorations. No well-wishers. And…” He waved his hand with a dramatic flourish. “...not a single baked treat to be found. A veritable oasis in the overwhelming oppression of holiday cheer.”

He grinned and leaned forward playfully as he spoke, expecting her to draw back or bristle in her usual frustration with his constant flirting. She did not move away.

“I would very much appreciate coming with you.” Her three green eyes stared at him earnestly from behind the cloth wrapped around them, her hand still on his wrist, a look of relief on her face apparent even through her perpetual black paracausal tears.

Time seemed to slow as they lingered in each other’s space longer than was necessary or normal for either of them. He caught his breath and leaned in even closer. She still didn’t pull away.

The obnoxious clang of the Drifter’s pre-game alarm rang out and Eris jumped back with a start, her now-free hand frosting over instinctively to defend herself.

He swallowed, blinking, a frustrated smile on his lips over the ruined moment.

“Five minutes till go time,” he explained, wistfully.

Eris relaxed, the frost dissipated from her fingers.

“You comin’ with?”

She nodded.

“All aboard the escape-from-Dawning express!” He held out his hand once more.

She took it eagerly and firmly in a way that made him briefly hold his breath without realizing he was doing it.

The world shimmered around them as the Drifter’s transmat kicked in and transported them. They appeared in a small room with consoles on three sides and sixteen monitors all showing different views of the same area.

“Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back,” he said, squeezing her hand and releasing it with reluctance before walking through the door, out onto the catwalk.

Eris watched him through the doorway, out of view from the people below. The rogue lightbearer stepped up the metal stairs to his usual platform, tumbling his coins across his knuckles.

“All right, all right, all right. Let’s see what we’ve got.” He looked back at her with a grin and a glint in his eyes briefly before turning back to the guardians assembled for the game. “Hive!” He held up the coin. “Bring a sword.”

Eris heard the murmurs from the participants and listened as several of them swapped out their weapons and gear while the Drifter continued with his pregame patter.

“I’ve always wanted a pet Hive.” He said as he tossed a coin from one hand to the other, flipped it in the air and bounced it off of his ankle. “The ascendent plane must have all kinds of…” He spun around with a grin to wink at her before turning back to the group on either side of him. “...I’m oversharing.” He whirled his arms at the elbows and pointed forward. “Transmat is go!”

He sauntered back into the room with a grin.

“A pet Hive?” she asked him. “Really?”

“I mean, outside of the mass-murderin’ psychopathy and universe-spanning genocide, they’re really just overgrown shrimps, right?”

Eris Morn, Bane of the Swarm, from whom the Hive had taken everything, glared at him reproachfully.

“Besides,” he continued as he walked past her, turning to look into her surgically and magically implanted eyes as he moved toward the console, “on the right person, Hive eyes can be weirdly cute.”

Eris tensed and the soulfire-glow in her eyes flared.

“Not to mention,” he continued, “...cook ‘em right and they’re delicious, make ya see colours for days.”

“Watch yourself, Rat,” she growled through clenched teeth.

He picked up a headset and pushed a button by his ear. “Lock and load, hotshot,” he spoke into the microphone. “Bring those motes to the bank.” He pushed the button again.

“Awww don’t be mad-mad, Moondust. You know I only tease you so much cuz I like you.”

She tilted her head in surprise at the forthrightness of his statement. He stepped close to her, gently touching her elbow. She looked down at his hand and back up at him but did not pull away.

“I’ve got maybe two minutes before I have to say somethin’ again.” His voice was warm now, gentle. “Let me make it up to you. Can I start ya some tea?”

She sighed deeply, her irritation leaving her. “An acceptable peace offering. I would like tea, yes.”

“Sit down in the chair. I’ll be right back.” His eyes sparkled as he walked backwards into the hall before slipping through a doorway.

Eris stood still for a moment, considering his offer. Then she walked to the chair at his console and sat down stiffly, resting her soulfire wreathed Ahamkara bone in her lap.

Not much later, the Drifter reappeared beside her to push two buttons which lit up blue when he touched them. He tapped the mute button on his headset. “Hostiles, incoming at the beach!” he barked excitedly into the microphone. Then he hit the button on his headset again.

“Water’s set to boil.” His voice was soft again. “When’s the last time you ate, Crota’s Bane?”

“I… do not remember. Probably this morning? It was this morning, yes.”

He crouched down next to her, folded his arms on the arm rest for the chair she was sitting in, looking up at her. “I got soup in the crock pot. Been cookin’ all day. Hot and ready. I was gonna have some for dinner now. There’s lots. Will you eat it if I bring you some?”

“Is it made of Hive eyeballs?”

“No. It’s made of chicken, lentils, vegetables and a creamy coconut curry. It’s good. You’ll like it. Trust.”

“That… does sound nice.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes.”

He half-stood and reached across the console, leaning across her and bringing his face close to hers. Eris tilted her head quizzically at him but did not move away. He pushed two more buttons which turned blue like the first two. He then pressed the button on his headset, his nose still inches from hers. “Incoming hostiles, at the trees,” he called out before clicking the mute button again.

He stayed there, close, his eyes lingering first on her lips, then looking back into her eyes, and then back to her lips. The corner of her mouth quirked into a half smile. The Drifter’s eyes half-closed and opened his mouth to say something when a shrill continuous whistle pierced their ears from the hallway behind them. They both flinched away from each other in alarm.

He blinked several times, the frustrated smile once more on his face.

“Hmmm…” There was a hint of gentle amusement in her tone.

He opened his mouth as though he were about to say something to her and then shook his head, standing up.

“Incoming tea, from my kettle,” he said it the exact same way he’d have announced it in gambit, as he walked briskly out of the room.

A few moments later he was placing a steaming mug into her gloved hands and pushing more buttons on the console.

“High value target’s on the field. Hunt it down and put some rounds in it,” he said into the headset before re-muting himself.

“Is that team down one person?” Eris asked him, pointing at a screen.

“Yup. The one that jammed out’s getting a warning for that. That’s rude.”

“Do they always lose when they’re only three?”

“Depends on how good the ones are that’s left behind. Mostly yes,” he told her. He pushed the mute button. “Portal’s up. Go say hello!” He waited and then pointed at one of the screens with a grin as Eris watched one of the three-person team run to the other side.

“Embrace the Darkness,” he told the invader.

Eris leaned forward to watch.

“Well done,” she murmured appreciatively as the hunter took out two guardians with headshots from a sniper rifle. Then she gave a small gasp in delight as they danced around the remaining two, dodging and swapping weapons before bringing them both down with a submachine gun.

“Wooo!” The Drifter leaned back and whooped into his un-muted headset.

Eris’ face split into one of her rare open-mouthed smiles at his infectious glee.

“Your invader's back and they just took out the entire opposing team! Glad they're on your side.” He hit the mute button. “With an invader like that, those poor bastards might just pull this off. I’m excited to see how this turns out.”

“As am I,” Eris said quietly, her smile subdued but still present as she watched intently with him, sipping her tea.

He pointed to a progress bar on one of the screens. “When this gets to 100, press this button here,” he reached out, took her hand gently, and placed it on top of the button.

“Won’t you need to know when to talk?” she leaned in as she asked him while he was standing.

Her nose brushed against his ear.

He froze and sucked in a shuddering breath. She smirked and leaned back.

“I um…” He swallowed and gave her a small, almost shy, smile. “I’ll be able to hear it on the feed.”

“Hmmm…” She let her chin rest on her other hand, smiling back at him like she had just won something. “And this is so you can go get the soup?”

He stared back at her, the smooth charismatic mask temporarily gone, his expression uncharacteristically soft. “Yeah,” he said, as though he had forgotten what he was doing entirely and she’d just reminded him.

Shortly after he disappeared into the hallway behind her the number of motes hit 100 and Eris pushed the button, as directed. From down the hall she heard his voice with his usual practiced gambit tone, “Opposing team’s got a primeval. They kill it, they win.”

Eris continued to watch as the other team's mote bank also approached 100 and found a very similar button on that side of the console. As they hit their target she pressed it.

“Ok, you can still win this. Focus on that primeval,” she heard him talking into his microphone behind her. Eris turned to watch him enter the room walking slowly, a bowl of hot soup in each hand. As he placed a bowl on a flat spot in front of her, he silently mouthed the words ‘thank you.’ He placed his own bowl next to hers, flipped a different switch, said “Portal's up. Grab your gun,” to one team and then, with another switch, “Invader's on the field. Get ‘em!” to the other.

Eris smiled at how he always sounded like he was supporting the side he was talking to as she removed her gloves. She ate a spoonful of soup. It was warm and delicious, the taste of it shifting on her tongue, giving her too many flavors at once to process.

“It's very good, but also very complex,“ she said quietly.

“All good curry is,” he whispered before pressing the button on his headset again and continuing to call the match from a stool he’d pulled up next to the chair she was sitting in.

The three-person team had only just begun to damage their primeval when the Drifter pointed out to Eris how their opponents were on the last leg of the primeval damage phase.

“Alas,” she said softly into her soup. “They tried.”

“Oh, it ain’t over yet.” He leaned in closer to her again. “I mean, it might be, but let’s see what our hotshot from earlier can do.” He reached across her and flicked a switch. “Portal’s up,” he said through his headset, “Go make a mess.” He clicked the mute back on.

“There’s no way they can possibly win at this point.”

“Oh yeah? Wanna bet?” His eyes sparkled in glee.

“I have nothing to wager.”

“If the underdogs win, you come over here for dinner tomorrow night. And before you ask, no screeb guts or Hive eyeballs. Actual dinner with actual food.”

She frowned. “A… date?”

“Yeah,” he tilted his head to look her in the eyes. “A date.”

“I do not date.”

“I know. That’s why it’s a bet.” He shook his head side to side slightly to accentuate each word.

She pursed her lips. “And what do I get if the other team wins?”

“Whatever you want,” he said quietly with more intensity than he’d intended.

“Hmmm… if they win…” she began.

“Yeah?”

“You ‘redistribute’ my cookies for me.”

“Deal.”

The four-person team converged on their taken primeval, guns blazing. Eris and the Drifter watched as the primeval’s health indicator decreased rapidly. The hunter from the three-person team ran in, jumped up, and flung two kami into the middle of the fray, summoning a stasis whirlwind.

“Ugh. Too slow,” Eris critiqued. “That will not kill them quickly enough.”

The Drifter reached behind her to flick a switch swapping one of the screens to an over-the-shoulder view of the invader. He left his arm draped over the back of the chair. Eris noted the positioning of his arm while swallowing another spoonful of soup, but said nothing.

The invading hunter switched to their heavy weapon slot, pulling out Xenophage. Eris sat up straighter and smiled grimly as the first opponent fell with one shot, feeding the primeval and raising its health up from a sliver to a still-manageable, but significant chunk.

The Drifter chuckled in her ear as another guardian fell to Xenophage, feeding the Primeval further. “That’s your gun, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice proud. “It is Omar… from my fireteam. His spirit is within it.”

“Still a badass.”

“Yes.” her voice was warm. Then she sighed in disappointment as the invading hunter was taken down by a well-placed punch from a solar titan.

Still holding his soup bowl, the Drifter held up one finger away from it and pointed, drawing Eris’ attention back to the screen focused on the primeval. The stasis whirlwind was still going.

The hunter who had invaded was resurrected on their own side. They immediately began emptying Xenophage into their own primeval from across the map as they ran in. As Eris watched, alerts of the four-person team’s deaths popped up on the screen and their primeval’s health bar skyrocketed back up to full.

“It continues after they are dead!” she said excitedly.

“Yup. There’s a reason people hate stasis hunters more than most in this game.”

The four-person team’s portal came up and their invader ran in, but the three-person team made short work of their primeval, dancing together as the Drifter praised them for their hard-fought win.

Eris leaned back in the chair against his arm. He stumbled over his closing commentary when she touched him. She smiled and finished her soup as the Drifter continued to tell the exiting gambit players how well they would be paid.

With the game over and all participants transmatted away, the Drifter leaned forward and tapped several buttons, killing the feeds and opening up a single screen with a list of people waiting in the queue. He took his headset off and set it beside his empty bowl on the console, his arm still draped over the back of the chair.

“Want more soup?” he asked her gently, leaning in more than was necessary.

“Perhaps later,” she handed him her empty bowl.

He turned back to her after nesting her empty bowl within his just as she leaned forward and their faces once more became far too close together.

They smiled at each other, neither one moving.

“How long until your next match,” she asked, touching his face with her fingertips.

“Ten minutes,” he whispered, staring into her eyes through the cloth that was covering them.

She curled her fingertips slightly and he leaned forward, his eyes fluttering closed as their lips met in a gentle kiss.

After a few moments he pulled back slightly, sucking in a shaking breath. She leaned in further and her hand slid around his neck to press their mouths together again.

Kiss after kiss followed. Reverent. Hungry. Teasing. Soothing. Hard. Gentle. He clung to her as though she might disappear at any moment. She pressed her lips against his tightly, drinking in his affection like he was water in the desert.

Eventually they had to breathe for a bit, but, loath to separate, they instead panted softly against each other’s necks, still holding tight. At some point he had slid off the stool and was partly in her lap, one knee on the floor. Her fingers were laced into his hair. Their breathing was in sync. The Drifter’s hands were soft and trembling, brushing against her face, her neck, pulling her close. Eris’ hands were cool and almost claw-like in how tight she held on to him.

“Hey-o! Drifter! Time for gambit!” someone shouted from one of the platforms in the ready room.

She felt his eyelashes blinking against her skin. He felt her lips smile just behind his ear.

She leaned back, cupping his cheek in her hand, her fingers buried in his beard.

“Driiiiifter!” someone else called.

“You should go start the next match,” she whispered.

“Screw the match,” he whispered back. “Is… is this real?”

She kissed him again. “Yes. Go start the match. I will wait.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

He got up to go and then sank back down to his knees, kissing her one more time before backing away, shaking his head, adjusting his headband, willing the mask of the meretricious rogue back in place.

Cheers echoed through the doorway as he appeared, his coins tumbling on his knuckles once more.

Eris had followed him and stood to watch, just out of sight.

“Took you long enough!” someone called out.

“Ya know what, just for you…” the Drifter pointed and snapped his fingertips, holding out the coin that had appeared with his trademark sleight-of-hand. “Scorn approaching.”

Everyone groaned.

Eris laughed silently and the Drifter’s eyes twinkled as he glanced back at her through the doorway before returning his gaze to the people assembled below.

"Never trust a Scorn!” he told the group as they were preparing for the match. “They're little balls of instinct. Shoot first, talk to it later.”

“You had to piss him off. Scorn are the worst,” someone said on the left.

“You ain’t seen me pissed off, brother.” the Drifter pointed at him. “For both our sakes, let’s hope you never do. Prepare for transmat!" He whirled one arm around his head and sent them off.

Eris handed him the headset as he stepped through the doorway. He put it on and then immediately pulled her into a kiss, pressing his whole body against hers.

He broke away from her lips reluctantly, tapped the side of his headset, spouted off some words of encouragement, and re-muted it so he could sink back into her lips again.

Three matches later, Eris was comfortably snuggled against the Drifter in his lap, pressing buttons for him with calm precision as he called the matches between tender feverish kisses, soft clinging touches.

Here they were, two of the most hardened, vicious, efficient killers, survivors of more horrors than any reasonable person could withstand and, for the first time in longer than either of them could remember, they were both content, smiling, quietly drunk on being gentle with each other.

. . .

The next evening, after a long shift at her post in Sanctuary on the Moon, Eris returned to her living quarters for a few moments of solitude before she would need to leave for the dinner she’d promised to attend for losing her gambit bet: her ‘date’ with the Drifter.

As she entered through her doorway she froze. Something had changed. It took a moment for her to realize what it was. She stood in the middle of her rooms looking around, first in surprise, and then genuinely impressed. There was not the slightest trace of an ascendent oatmeal raisin cookie anywhere.

At some point while she was working, the known thief, conman and criminal she had spent the last evening passionately kissing had snuck in through her perimeter defenses, skulked undetected past the many guardians who had been visiting her all day, bypassed the locks on her doors, and stolen every single one.

“A happy Dawning indeed,” she whispered to herself as she prepared a Hive portal to the Derelict, a small smile on her face.

#destiny 2 #destiny art #eris morn #the drifter #drifteris #the drifter/eris morn #drifter/eris #writing #ao3 #fanfiction #i fucking love robyn's art #imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese #a dawning oasis

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abyster · 2 months ago

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⊹₊⟡⋆ Just a silly moment with Arthur :)

(Established relationship, Arhtur is a grumpy sweetheart btw).

_________________˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗__________________

Arthurs fingers run along the keycaps of the keyboard, while the sound from Aoi's lare was buzzing around him. After listening for a few seconds, Drifter started to tilt their head to the beat. Then, slightly moving their arms, kind of trying to figure out the right movement to the song.

Arhtur instinctively turns his head towards the sound of the On-Lyne song. Suddenly, he notices what Drifter is doing.

"What are you doing?"

"Dancing." Drifter answered immediately.

"To this?" Arthur questioned his life choices for a moment.

"Well, in my defense there weren't such... energetic songs like the ones Aoi listens to".

Arthur makes mental note to get some headphones, to keep his ears from hurting if Drifter ever decides to bless him with the On-Lyne music in their room. As long as Drifter is happy, Arthur will make compromises.

#Drifter x Arthur Nightingale #Warframe 1999 #Warframe #Arthur Nightingale #Drifter #Fanfiction #Drabble #Arthur Nightingale x Drifter

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axolotlwrites · 2 months ago

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Black Lipstick, Red Tongue

NSFW! Male Drifter Reader X Eleanor Nightingale

The Drifter and Eleanor get a little handsy in the internet café, despite the lack of privacy...

CW: Oral sex, reader has a penis, is given head, slight exhibitionism (they aren't caught, however), slight psychic mind-fuckery, Eleanor's weird tongue is involved (duh), not beta read, formatted for mobile

Also, a good ninety percent of this was written before 1999 actually came out, so some of it isn't entirely accurate. For the most part, there's no major deviations. (I think.)

Enjoy.

Words: 922

Eleanor’s hands pressed flat against your chest, pushing you into the chair of the internet cafe desk. You were worried. This was stupid, incredibly so. Sound would reverberate in an empty mall like this, and it wasn’t as if you two were totally alone. “Are you sure about this? The others-” Her hand pressed against your cheek, interrupting you as she spoke (or rather, thought) softly. “Won’t hear us. I promise.” A shivering breath escapes your mouth, as you speak again. “Arthur’ll fucking kill me if he finds out.” Eleanor giggles at that, before smiling, another thought ripping into your brain, like a tailor’s knife through fine silk. “Then stay quiet, and he won’t.”

Your hands drift down to the buckle of your pants. When you got here, you quickly traded voidshell compounds and weaves for simple denim and fabric. It was lighter, it fit in better… and it was comfier. She stared up into your eyes, the mischievous glint in her eye as prominent as always. “Are you sure you-” She rolled her eyes, pushing your hands away as she unbuckled them for you. “You can pay me back later, but right now…” Her hand gently tugged at your pants, your hips lifting off instinct as she tugged them off. “Right now is about you.”

Gloved fingers reached out to prod gently, a gloved palm following close after to rub against the straining of your pants. “F-fuck.” You whimpered it out, softly, terrified of who might hear. God forbid Arthur hears you… or Quincy… or Lettie. You wouldn't hear the end of it, if you were still alive. She loved it, though. Loved the way she could make you shiver and whimper in the middle of the Hex’s safehouse with just a stray thought.

Of course, she knew the truth.

You loved it too.

She kneeled in front of you now, placing soft kisses on your stomach as she pulled up your shirt. She could see your scars, some evidence of your time spent in the Origin System, some fresh from your scraps in the streets and metros of Hollvania. Her other hand roamed the elastic waistband of your underwear, freshly scavenged from a ransacked supermarket.

As she started to peel your underwear down, trailing black lipstick kisses down your stomach, down to your crotch, you couldn't help but shiver.

She didn't pull them off entirely, leaving them halfway down your thighs in the case of an… unfortunate intrusion. Her breath traveled along the length of your cock, half-hard as her hands roamed along your inner thighs. “Relax, love. You don't want all that anxiety to affect your performance, after all…” She smiled, clearly teasing you, trying to rile you up as the blush crossed your face.

Some part of you was worried. You knew what appendage lingered in that mouth of hers, but ever since that kiss on New Year’s, you both had gotten a little braver.

This was the result of a massive amount of tension, a veritable dance of extended boundaries and worried glances.

You couldn’t prepare for how her mouth felt. As she took you into her maw, the tendril that resided behind her teeth wrapped around you, like a venus flytrap. Your back arched into the chair, a mild mixture of arousal and fear showing on your face as your hand flew up to your mouth. Again, she giggled, the vibrations around your cock a far more pleasant feeling than the tendril’s grasping and probing. Finally, you let out a real, tangible noise. “Damn. That is… a hell of a feeling.” Her hand roamed against the outside of your thigh, as she started to bob her head. “Do you want me to stop?” she whispered, your mind hazing as you felt her really dig around in your head.

You shook your head, your senses consumed by her psychic abilities. It felt like she was hugging your brain, caressing and kissing between the nooks of your mind.

It was far more pleasant than you thought it'd be, and the infested tongue in her mouth started to get a real hang on how it wanted you, finally starting to stroke and caress. It was wet and hot, black lipstick starting to smear along the length of your cock. Her hand grabbed yours, guiding it to her head and ponytail.

“Get a grip, love. You'll want it.” You nodded, as she began to move faster, enticing you to use that newfound grip she had given you.

You knew you weren't gonna last long. With a tongue that literally had a (hive)mind of its own, the very enthusiastic woman it was attached to, and the mind-fuck powers of said enthusiastic woman… you didn't stand a chance.

You bucked your hips up into her throat, moaning softly as you began to lose yourself in it. “Come on. Cum for me, Drifter. My Drifter.”

And just like that, you were gone, spilling your seed into her throat as you tried desperately to keep from moaning out in pleasure. The tongue in her mouth coiled around your cock, dragging out all of the semen it could manage, before she pulled away, its host finally satisfied.

“I'll leave you to clean up. But… I'll see you in the backroom tonight, love.” She laid a gentle kiss on your cheek, before walking off, hips swaying as the last of her psychic powers faded. It left a pleasant haze in your mind that you really couldn't shake, even if you'd wanted to.

What a woman.

#male reader #lemon #notforwack #warframe #warframe fanfiction #warframe 1999 #eleanor nightingale #eleanor nightingale x reader #eleanor nightingale x drifter #the drifter #warframe drifter

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a-driftamongopenstars · 5 days ago

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the weight of words; drifteris ficlet

I woke up at 3 am to write this because I'm still unwell over the beginning of Heresy. I haven't gotten too far yet, so no spoilers please, but omg.

also on ao3

The Drifter knows the weight of words. He may throw them near carelessly, but there are moments even he knows that call for the quiet, for every sound to be deliberate and delicate.

It is such a time. He lays beside her, beside Eris, both undressed, mind and body. There is no one else he would let this close, behind his walls of steel, behind the curtains he drew around himself. How she circumvented him, the Drifter doesn't know, but she found away. Raw, truthful, meaningful Eris.

She is awake. Her green eyes blink and glow eerily in the thick of the night. They bleed with black ether. Upon her lips he sees softness. She smiles rarely, and not now, but for him, sometimes, a secret smile to disarm him. A smile when they had each other, his name on her lips, sweet like honey.

Drifter reaches over, a warm hand upon her collarbone, her shoulder. Eris turns her head and rests her palm over his cheek.

They stay a moment, ever vulnerable, all defenses down. Pure, unquestionable trust. Not a thing either imagined, and certainly not with each other. Each is scarred for life and by it. Their souls left in the unspeakable darkness, coated with it. And the darkness has a way to tendril through anything it deems good. Seeds of doubt and anger.

How could anything bloom in such a soil, and yet…

The Drifter shakes his head. He started thinking like her, in veiled epithets, in words of the deep. Even her speech patterns avoided his thorns and firmly planted themselves in his mind.

Eris moves her hand carefully, brushing a calloused thumb beneath his eye. Then his lip. She strokes his jaw and his neck. His shoulder. Her touch leaves a trail of warmth, of light.

“Moonlight…” he whispers. And yes, this is the right word, the right thing to say now, in the dark, in the forever dark of their lives. She is much like it, the moon, bathing everything in the soft glow. Even in the darkest pits, her Light comes through and tears away the nightmares.

But she is that only for him. Selfishly, this is what the Drifter wants.

He gathers her closer, and Eris slides an arm around him. They cling to each other, sweat sticky on their skin. He kisses her forehead beside the eye, lingering for a blissful moment. His heart surges with something, a strange feeling that wasn't even there at the apex of their night, their pleasure. And it is not new, but it hurts so good.

He knows the weight of words. He cannot say the three important ones, not yet. She knows, anyway. He has put their meaning in everything he does. He coated his heart with it and let it stay there. It's been so long since his heart has felt it, the ache of…

Eris rests her head in the nook of his shoulder. Her chin there. Her hair tickles his cheek.

Fuck, is this what they are now? Is this real, true and for as long as forever lasts?

“Moonlight,” he repeats, putting the weight of this word in her hands. He closes his eyes and breathes her in. He wants her badly, to have it all over again. He wants to take a hammer to his own walls, just for her.

“I'm here, Germaine,” she says, her voice reassuring and soft.

“Yeah, I know,” he rasps.

And there's nowhere else he would rather be.

#destiny 2 #destiny 2 fanfiction #drifteris #the drifter #eris morn #destiny 2 spoilers #fanfiction #driftcreates

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backtraf · 19 days ago

Text

Arthur rested his head against his hands as they gripped the pommel of his sword. His eyes were closed, and brow furrowed as his mind played back every death by his hand, every close call, every mistake that nearly cost them everything. His mind was stuck on a loop, unable to claw its way out of the damning memories.

His pulse thundered in his ears as his breathing picked up. His grip on the sword tightened painfully, but he welcomed it, glad to feel something other than the constant fear.

"Arthur!"

Arthur's eyes snapped open, and he whipped his sword up, ready to fight. Cassian stood only a few feet away, his hands held up in a placating gesture as he was held at sword point.

"Cassian... I... Sol, I'm sorry. Was lost in my own head." Arthur lowered his sword and took a step back, collapsing back into his seat.

"I could see. I called your name 4 times before you responded. Are you alright? You were breathing alarmingly quickly. And you're shaking a bit."

Arthur held his hand up and observed the slight shake to his limb. "Left over adrenaline, I'll be fine."

Cassian frowned and gently laid his hand on the other man's shoulder. "I'm just going to say you shouldn't be in constant battle mode with adrenaline always pumping through you. You're wearing yourself thin."

The protoframe snorted and gave the drifter a sideways look. "You're one to talk."

Cassian smiled and huffed out a laugh. "Perhaps... but, I could help. If you'd let me."

"What? That transference thing? You know I hate it. I don't like not feeling in control."

"Transference isn't about taking control. It's about connection. I won't even do anything, I just want you to know you aren't alone."

Arthur sighed and looked at his still shaking hand. "Alright, fine."

Cassian smiled and allowed himself to feel the connection to the frame before letting himself drift into it. The two connected and Arthur shivered, gritting his teeth at the sensation. He was positive he would never get used to it, the feeling of not being alone in your own body.

But even as he thought that, a strange warm sensation spread throughout him. It wasn't a physical warmth, but a warmth that spread from his core to his fingertips. His heart calmed and he let his eyes slip closed, basking in the feeling. Maybe he could get used to it.

#warframe drifter #warframe 1999 #warframe spoilers #warframe excalibur #warframe #warframe 1999 spoilers #warframe arthur #warframe fanfiction #drifter x arthur

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ionegirl-art · 1 day ago

Text

Remnant

Warning: This story contains the following content: suicide, self harm, depression and panic attacks.

~*~

Remnant

~*~

The soft droning hum of machinery beside the rattle of air traveling through vents resonate in the shaking breaths of a motionless figure. Standing still in the center of the Derelict’s single ‘cabin’ Drifter’s eyes focus in and out as his mind cycles through memories. Engines humming quietly as the ship remains idle in orbit.

Above him, a single lantern casts the room in a warm golden glow illuminating the clutter of several tall neck glass bottles dispersed around him. The atmosphere was heavy in the absence of noise that generally would be active at this time.

Gambit would have to wait.

Knuckles cracking as his hands clenched tightly at his sides, Drifter’s breathing rattles past his lips in stressed puffs. There was absolutely no way he would be able to focus on anything when all he desired to do was tear through the Dreadnaught. The fury in his veins already coursed through his battered system leaving him feeling both torn apart and ready to explode. While the Light was not his style, he struggled to control the solar burning in his fingertips as he visualized tearing apart the Dread.

He would make sure that every last one of those abominations died by his hands for what they did. They would pay for...

…

“Her body motionless on the stasis glaive. The echoing drip, drip of her blood as it hit the rocks beneath her body. The dawning terror rising like bile at the back of his throat at her crumpled and lifeless form. Cold. So cold…”

…

Gloved hands gripped his head as he violently shook it to clear the panic from his mind. His voice is hoarse, hollow as he cries out in the silence of his cabin. “No. No, no, no…NO!”

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about how you won’t see her again. Don’t think. Don’t think, don’t think, please no… Don’t think!! He has to fight. To keep fighting. Against the memory. Her. Of the heaviness of her in his arms. Her body, still and lifeless. Her skin, warm but cooling rapidly.

…

“A soft touch on his hip has him jumping and whirling. Did a Taken thrall get close enough to him to graze his hip? His gaze hones in on her. And then on his hand-cannon in her small hand. There is a warmth just beneath his heart that he ignores and also decides is heartburn. He’s… hungry. Of course.”

…

Denial.

A familiar pain swells in his chest, one that he thought had gone numb. He takes a gasping breath, his hands shaking and griping the side of his workbench. Blue eyes focus on the red flecks of blood on his hand cannon. Her blood. All that he has left of her. His teeth worry against his dry and cracked lip. Trust. Aptly named. He has to clean it. He has to be ready. He has too…

With a growl, his fist slams against the top of his workbench. Shaking the hand-cannon and bouncing numerous paraphernalia to crash against the steel plating of the floor.

“Fuck!”

The plip, plip, plip of tears fall against the top of his workbench. A hysterical sob breaks free from his throat. His fist pounds once more against the surface rattling the loose bullets that fall and chime against the floor. He should have seen this coming. His head bows as his hand pulls through his hair and he hiccups past another sob.

…

“Her body had already been carted away to the Tower by hesitant guardians, their somber eyes steering clear of him. His blue eyes staring unseeing at the disturbed lines in the rock and soil from where IT had dragged her. Listlessly following the trail to where Trust rested, where the rocks glistened in the dim lighting from her blood…”

…

It wasn’t right.

He was right there. She trusted him and he couldn’t save her. He couldn’t …

Drifter turned on his heel sharply, his body leaning against the workbench. Hands shaking, he runs them once more through his short hair. Gasping breaths even out as his eyes focus on the haphazardly pieced together steel of the ceiling of his cabin. The folding chair, long forgotten, collapsed on the floor like the last vestiges of his sanity. The pain now threatened to bear down onto his heart as though a thrall had seized it with its own claws.

It’s all your fault.

“Shut it! I don’t need to hear it - I know!” He growls out into the emptiness.

Why did you think you could keep her safe?

Feeling nauseous, he pushes off his workbench and begins to pace within the entrance of his room. The sobs that he had stalled come back viciously ripping the air from his throat in gasping breaths. His body and mind are heavy with grief and guilt.

How could he have let it happen? Wasn’t he right beside her? Why did he allow himself to be separated from her?

She wanted to live… and you let her die.

Another sob escaped his lips. The ache in his heart wouldn’t go away. He attempts to redirect his thoughts by hitting the side of his head with the palm of his hand, but it wasn’t enough. It's never enough.

He wasn’t enough.

Damn it all, he didn’t want to be alone anymore.

“ARGH!”

With a shout, Drifter’s fist grabs the closest item near him, a cup, to become the next outlet for his grief. Fingers wrapping around the cool ceramic exterior, memories of her smile over the rim flashing in his mind before he viciously tosses it at the opposite wall. His panting breaths echoing in the chamber as white ceramic glittered on an otherwise dark floor.

There is a moment of clarity as his eyes focus on the small shards of her teacup before flicking back to where the cup had once sat. A dark ring stained the surface, blending with the various other stains. But also different. Hers. He winced at the sudden twisting of his heart.

…

“... the soft smile on her lips as she set the cup down on his shelf, still half full of the oolong tea she had been drinking. Her hand coming up to her face, index finger rubbing her bottom lip gently as she disappeared back into the light of his room. The memory of a smile on her lips as she left his sight.”

…

She’s gone. You will never see her again.

He coughed as another sob broke free. The ache was unbearable now. It felt as though someone was ripping his heart out from his chest. He was tired of feeling like this. He was so tired…

Another drink. He needed another drink. Enough alcohol would either numb him or poison him. Either way, he didn’t mind as long as the pain went away. Hurriedly, he reached across his workbench and grabbed the remaining bottle of liquor, popped open the top and tilted his head back.

Nothing.

Empty.

Frustrated, he threw the bottle to the floor and grabbed another glass bottle. He lifted it to his lips and tilted it back.

Empty.

It was when he lowered the bottle from his lips that he noticed the shaking in his hands. The bottle dropped and clanked onto the metal floor as he clasped his hands tightly together to stop the tremors. Drifter dropped to his knees and fell forward, keeping his hands close to his chest as he fought through the trembling.

I need you, Eris.

He could no longer fight the intensity of all his emotions bearing down on him, threatening to crush all of who he was and is. She was no longer there and her hand would never again rest on his to bring comfort.

She was gone. His Moonlight… was gone.

A soft tone signaled above him but he found it impossible to raise his head. Allowing his body to grow weak following his attack, Drifter kept his body grounded to the floor. His hands slowly fell to his lap as the tremors dissipated. Another soft tone came from his Ghost as it steadied itself in front of him. Too weak to push it away and not wanting to look up from the metal floor, Drifter took in a breath and exhaled unsteadily.

“Get out.” He commanded weakly. The Ghost waited a few moments before it acknowledged his order and unmaterialized from view.

Taking in another unsteady breath, Drifter looked up to Trust which was still laying untouched on his workbench. With the back of his gauntlet, he rubbed his nose and pushed himself up off the ground. Jerkily he picked up the folding chair from the floor and collapsed onto the cold metal seat. Movements slow and unhurried, he carefully lifted the scattered bullets to place them one by one into the cylinder. With a flick of his wrist, the cylinder clicked back into place and he held the gun steady in front of himself.

…

“I gotcha. I gotcha. I gotcha, Moonlight…”

…

There was no more alcohol to numb his body or force him to sleep.

It was just him and her flecks of blood on his hand cannon. They could still be together. In death. In the viscous hold of their gore.

Without thought, he lifted the barrel of Trust to his temple. Eyes drifted closed, his fingers pressed down on the trigger. His body instinctively jumped at the loud click he heard from the hand cannon and he huffed a self depreciated laugh when nothing happened. A quick glance down the narrow space between the cylinder and the barrel explained what had occurred. The bullet had shifted enough to get caught on the barrel and jammed.

He chuckled lightly to himself. His own Trust had failed him.

He slumped back in his seat, eyes swollen from the tears and chest unbearably tight. Deep down, he felt that despite no longer being here, Eris’s reassuring hand still rested on his arm urging him to live. Urging him to move forward. An emptiness fell over him as unfocused eyes stared forward.

Another soft tone came from beside him, this time louder than last. Drifter’s lips snarled as he glared over his shoulder at his Ghost.

“Get. Out.” His voice turned dark and rough. It was enough to cause his Ghost to disappear immediately out of view. His glare lingered in its direction, knowing that it was still there but at a safer distance.

Exhaling, he leaned forward in his chair and focused back onto his hand cannon in need of repair.

Reaching over into his toolkit, Drifter grabbed his plastic and brass hammer, thumbed the cylinder catch to open, and smacked the cylinder open. He placed his hammer back into his toolkit and replaced it with another brass brush with a cotton cloth and oil. He removed each of the bullets from their respective chambers and returned to cleaning.

Oil to cloth, he removed the gunpowder residue and grime that had built up within the gun. He cleaned every part minus the specks of blood on the handle.

A darkness surged within him as his fingertips touched the remnants of Eris on his handle.

Those things would come to learn what a mistake it was … to take his Moonlight away from him.

~*~

A/N: I hope you enjoyed my first attempt at writing in about 10 years. This episode is full of content opportunities. I just want to hug this man as tightly as possible.

#destiny 2 #eris morn #drifteris #the drifter #drifter destiny #d2 #fanfiction #fanfic #depressing shit

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arthurs-skana · 22 days ago

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Arthur x Drifter nsfw wip

Rem is a transmasc Drifter, have a blowjob wip as a precursor to the full scene jadsklfadf

It’s like a switch has been flipped. Since his KIM confession, Arthur had expected Rem to continue his measured pace of courting Arthur, but how fast is too fast when you only have a year? (An eternal looping year, but still.) There’s no time to waste, apparently.

But as soon as Arthur gave the green light on their relationship, it’s like Rem is making up for lost time. Whenever he’s around, it’s rarer for him to not be touching Arthur or hovering in his space in some way. Anyone else and Arthur would be sick of them, but Rem’s easy affection filled the pit in Arthur’s life that had been hollow for a long time.

Days are quieter in winter. Slower. Less missions to go around with a sudden drop in activity; maybe the Scaldra still observe Solstice, too, Eleanor jokes. That’s not to say that there’s nothing to do, far from it. But the chances to catch their breath between missions seem to grow longer as the days grow shorter. Maybe now I’ll actually have a chance to show Drifter a good time.

When the first signs of the Helminth strain started to show, steel-hard carapace taking over flesh, the churning, writhing sensation of a body being taken over, the feeling of disgust, of undesirability had settled in quickly. Who would ever love a monster? Who wouldn’t shy away from a man who was broken even before Entrati came and fucked everything to hell? (Apparently, the answer is the man who had nothing.)

Arthur startles as arms snake under his apron, nearly knocking into the bowl of pancake batter he’s mixing on the counter. Cold palms press against his lower belly, where the waistband on a pair of pants would sit, tantalizingly close to his groin plate and soaking up heat. Rem’s body sags against his back, a soft pair of lips brushing along Arthur’s hairline, right above where his carapace ends. Arthur sets down the whisk and covers Rem’s hands with his own.

“Good morning, love,” Arthur murmurs. Rem hums sleepily, nuzzling into the crook of Arthur’s neck and pressing lingering kisses there. “Hungry?”

Sharp teeth gently digging into his skin startles a yelp out of him, his neck buzzing with his lover’s growl. Hands move to his hips, squeezing. “Very.”

“Ah, darling – ” Arthur gasps as Rem’s tongue drags a hot line up his neck and ends in a kiss behind his ear, the other man straightening and falling forward to pin Arthur against the counter despite the height difference. “Someone’s very spirited this morning.”

“Don’t you want to feed me properly, Ari?” Rem’s morning voice is gravelly and heated, roving hands seeking out Arthur’s weak spots and massaging at his chest and hips. He shuffles impossibly closer, pressing himself so completely against Arthur like he was attempting Transference. “Can’t let your boy starve, right?”

“Don’t you want to wait until we’re somewhere more comfortable, love?” Arthur asks. He slips an arm out to reach up and run a hand through Rem’s short hair, making the other man purr. “Why don’t you get me finish cooking first. I’ll even make them square for you.”

Rem snorts a laugh. He pulls back and spins Arthur around, grinning mischievously. “Maybe an appetizer first. Will you let me?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Mm…” He fits a thick thigh between Arthur’s, rocking forward gently and relishing feeling the swell of flesh under thick carapace. “Let me suck you off? I’ve been told getting off once helps keep your stamina up for the second round.”

The image of Rem on his knees, looking up at Arthur was too good to pass up.

The eager roll of Rem’s body against his, a smiling mouth pressing sharp teeth against the front of his throat. The tangle of scarred fingers with his own, only breaking to lift Arthur’s apron as Rem slides down and under it to kneel. Arthur’s not sure he’s ever had someone quite so happy to be with him.

Rem mouths at his hip, moving toward his groin plate and inhaling greedily, and Arthur might’ve been embarrassed at the shameless display if he wasn’t the hardest he’s ever been in his life. Lots of firsts and first places Drifter was taking, Arthur realizes with a rush of affection.

He lets the carapace open and Arthur’s cock slaps heavily against Rem’s face, long and ridged from the Helminth strain’s influence (the ridges, not the length, thank you very much), bordering on tentacley. For a brief moment, Arthur feels self-conscious of the mutation, the unnatural reddish purple tinge and alien textures, the slit where he protrudes from instead of regular skin, and is immediately reassured as Rem swallows down as much as he can fit in one go with no hesitation, moaning like he’s on the receiving end.

“Sol, you’re good at this,” Arthur gasps. He clenches their hands together at a particularly strong suck. “Way too good. Did you have dildos on the Zariman or something? Shit… did you find one here?”

Rem pulls off with a lascivious slurp. “I think about this all the time,” he admits, rubbing his lips along the length. His voice is slightly muffled under the apron. “For months. All the things I’d do to you if you let me, all the things I’d let you do to me. And well. I like to be prepared.”

He scrapes his teeth over a hipbone before biting down, releasing one of Arthur’s hands to wrap around his lover’s cock and let him fuck into his fist. “Can you tell I don’t have a gag reflex?”

Arthur laughs breathlessly as warmth envelops him again. “Yes, darling, I’m well aware, fuck…” His thighs quiver as a telltale rush of heat warns of his impending orgasm. “Love, I won’t last much longer.”

“Can I try something? Do you trust me?”

Arthur nods.

Rem takes Arthur’s cock into his mouth again, bobbing his head and working his tongue, and then reaches up to place a hand over Arthur’s heart.

The hot-cold-buzzing feeling of Void energy isn’t entirely foreign, but the feedback loop of emotion and sensation is. It’s different from the memory of Rem taking Arthur’s pain in the reactor room. Then, it was like a blanket, leeching the excruciating pain of his body succumbing to the Infestation and leaving behind a cotton lined feeling of care, of “I’m here with you.” A cool breeze on a sweltering day. A conversation, send and receive.

The borderline overstimulating communion he feels now, the lines of what he feels and what Rem feels, the mouth around his cock and Rem cupping himself to find some relief, every bit of light and sound and smell amplified – it threatens to shatter him in the best way. There is no Point A or Point B, no angle or space that is occupied by one or the other, just the singularity of their bond.

Rem lets Arthur slip out of his mouth just enough to take a deep breath and then pushes forward until his nose is pressed to Arthur’s stomach. He swallows, and the vise grip of his throat sends Arthur over the edge, hands cramping with the effort of cradling Rem’s head without forcing him in place. There are sparks behind his eyes, or maybe the fluorescents over his head really are flickering. An overwhelming wave of sensation as he spills his load down Rem’s throat, heart hammering in his chest and their consciousnesses stuttering between separate and together as Rem’s hand slides away from Arthur’s chest.

Finally, Rem releases him with a wet noise and Arthur feels more than sees his cock retreat into his slit and his groin plates fold into place. Overheated, Arthur yanks the apron off and tosses it on the counter behind him, sweat cooling as the air conditioner blows over them. Rem still hasn’t cum but seems content to wait for Arthur to recover, pressing his own sweaty face to Arthur’s thigh to catch his breath as he rocks idly against own hand. Arthur closes his eyes and cards his fingers through short, dark purple hair, separating the damp strands and luxuriating in the afterglow.

“As much fun as you two are having, I’d much prefer it if you didn’t further sully one of the last working kitchens in the mall.”

Eleanor’s voice in both their minds is like ice water and Arthur leaps away from Rem, barely reaching back out in time to catch the man from face planting into the metal island.

“Eleanor, what have I said about eavesdropping?” Arthur hisses. He helps Rem to his feet, steadying the man as he gets feeling back in his legs.

“Trust me, Artie, listening to my dear baby brother and his very handsome lover have incredibly graphic intercourse is at the bottom of the list of things I’d like to tune into, but it turns out Void energy makes your psychic experience very loud and difficult to ignore. You may as well be projecting it over a loudspeaker.”

Arthur blushes and Rem laughs. “Sorry, El,” Drifter says.

[Rem “hunts” Arthur to the backrooms]

[Arthur’s brain functions turn into the dial-up noise when he sees Rem’s nipple piercings]

#fic #warframe drifter #warframe 1999 #arthur nightingale #heeheehee #warframe fanfiction #drifter rem #rem #mine

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spacemagictea · 1 month ago

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Beacon in the Dark

First of the stories I've written about my Drifter, Kaylessa and Amir Beckett. I plan to write more and it will all include some fluff, some angst and some sap.

TW: Sibling death

Stories will include spoilers from both the quest and the chats in one way or another to a varying degree.

I've not written things in like 10 years, and I've never shared things that I've written/came up with to be honest. I hope you enjoy.

If color coding makes things harder to read, then I'll remove it. Lemme know, please. <3

Spoken dialogue in -speak-, thoughts in 'thought', just in case.

March 14th,1999

The days in Höllvania were starting to get longer as winter slowly gave way to spring. Warmer seasons presented new challenges, but also new opportunities. One exceptionally calm evening in the central mall, Kaylessa was discussing a field hospital setup with Lettie.

-Alright, we seem to have the layout worked out.- Kay straightened out in the chair, gently pushing a rough plan drawing towards the medic. -How do you feel we discuss supplies tomorrow, maybe after lunch?

-Muy bien, come tomorrow whenever you aren’t busy. Get some rest for now. Gracias, babas.- Lettie nodded with appreciation, grabbing the piece of paper to take a closer look.

-Great. See you tomorrow, then.

The Drifter got up from the chair, rolling back her shoulders. At first, she considered walking straight to the backroom before an idea sprung in her mind and she headed downstairs.

‘Perhaps I should invite him to lunch. I think he’d like that.’

Recently, she talked over the KIM with Amir about what she jokingly called a “date idea” of having a talk about her past over a big plate of pasta. She came to appreciate the jittery technician a lot over the last weeks, finding a lot in common with him. Kay directed her steps towards the arcade, where he could be found in his time off. This time, she saw Amir hunching over some machinery, doing some tinkering on some kind of circuit board. In one hand, he held a soldering iron, in the other a pair of tweezers as he seemed to be adjusting or putting on a chip on the PCB. Kaylessa hated breaking Amir’s focus when he seemed invested in doing something, even if he never got angry at her regardless of her timing.

This time, however, things went a bit different than usual as Amir looked up from the board and spotted her walking in, even though a second ago he seemed absolutely absorbed by his work.

-Heya! You need something, Kay? - Kay could swear Amir’s grey eyes lit up with a subtle spark whenever he noticed her coming up to him and this time was no exception. While normally she’d chalk it up to him being a cheerful guy, it felt like it happened only towards her. Or perhaps that’s what she wanted to think.

-Hey, Amir. I was thinking about our recent chat and uhm…- she stuttered a little in an unusual show of shyness -How would you feel about eating lunch together tomorrow?

This time, she couldn’t deny the joy she noticed in his eyes as he responded. Did her heart skip a beat now or was it just a feint?

-Yes! I’d love that!- his leg started bouncing like an excited Kubrow puppy. -What time?

She wasn’t sure if she expected him to decline or if her brain just crashed under happy emotions because she realized she didn’t immediately have an answer.

-Uh, like, 14… I think? The hour I usually come to eat- she blurted out, feeling the heat of her cheeks as they turned a soft shade of red. -Time’s weird in this place.

-Heh, everything is weird in this place. See you tomorrow, then? - The enthusiastic response encouraged Kay, as she gave Amir a wide smile and an equally cheerful confirmation.

-Great! I’ll go ask Arthur to prepare something for us.

She headed out towards where Arthur usually operated, feeling like her head floated in the clouds, heart pounding in her chest. The sensation was odd, but she welcomed it. Suddenly, she felt Eleanor gently slip in her mind with a voice of worry.

‘You okay there, Drifter? Your mind suddenly started racing and I got a bit concerned.’

‘Yeah.’ she nodded as if she was replying to Eleanor face to face. ‘Just a bit… overwhelmed with emotions, that’s all. But positive emotions.’

'Ah, I see.' There was a brief pause as if Eleanor took a moment to realise what’s up. ‘He could use someone like you in his life, you know? Someone who will help him acknowledge his worth. But do not worry, I will not spill anything unless I absolutely have to.’ The last words had the most teasing tone and Kay could swear her cheeks were not unlike the most pure rubedo in this moment.

‘Absolutely have to? I mean… I can’t even figure it out… just yet. But… thanks for keeping it safe.’ Her reply stammered, but the encouragement stuck in the back of her mind. As Eleanor withdrew with the same gentle grace as she got in, Kaylessa couldn’t help but start to ponder. She did know she cared about Amir, but this was unlike anything she experienced before. She had friends, but never anything more. Not that she got any opportunities to experience that before coming here. Quincy attempted to flirt with her day 2 of knowing her and it flew over her head like a rock launched from a catapult. Granted, it didn’t help that the first impressions of him were not so positive, but it was so obvious, when she later realized it, she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be embarrassed, or both. Amir on the other hand didn’t try anything explicit, but she couldn’t help but read his behavior as his own way of trying to capture her attention. If he didn’t have his own tasks, he’d volunteer to go on missions with her, even if they wouldn’t normally be something up his alley. He often sought her out and even if they didn’t talk, he seemed to enjoy having her around. And Kay often returned the favor, sometimes spending more of her time off sitting in the arcade than in her backroom. Sometimes they didn’t talk for hours on end, yet there was a mutual feeling of “glad you’re here”. She’d chalk it up to wanting to be friends with him, but she never had a funny feeling in her stomach and sudden outbursts of awkward shyness when talking to her friends. This was something more, even if she was hesitant to admit if, if only for fear of it not being mutual.

She didn’t even notice when she got to the monitoring room. Arthur was his usual brooding self, standing hunched over some local maps with a pencil in hand, probably planning the routes for the next missions. Kaylessa approached the squad leader.

-Hey, Arthur. Sorry to interrupt.- Despite the rocky start to their relationship, there was already an air of mutual respect between them. Arthur was very much impressed with Kaylessa’s work ethic and the Drifter with how he managed to keep everything together in spite of all the odds against the Hex.

-Drifter. What do you need?- he acknowledged her, looking up from the maps. -How’s the field hospital planning?

-Good. We got the layout sketched out and I’ll help Lettie sort out a list of supplies we will need tomorrow so you can get us some leads. I’ve got a little request.- Kay tried her best to not betray the feelings the mention of the request stirred within her. Arthur didn’t seem to show whether he figured anything out and gave her a nod to continue. -For lunch tomorrow, would you mind preparing some pasta for two?

-Yeah, but can you be more specific? There’s many types of pasta, I assume you don’t want square spaghetti.- he chuckled.

-NO.- Kay’s eyes widened on the reminder of the horrible contraption. -It was called, I believe, rigatoni? No clue how it’s normally prepared. It’s for me and… for Amir.- she felt slight heat on her cheeks again when she finished the request. Embarrassed, she scolded herself in her mind. Thankfully, Arthur didn’t bring it up, whether he noticed or not.

-Okay. Consider it done, I’ve got a recipe everyone might like even.- he seemed to be quite enthused by the request. Drifter noticed that Arthur liked cooking and she was glad he had an outlet. He absolutely needed it. Thus, the request felt like she was doing a service to him as well.

-Thanks. Take care, then.- she turned around and began heading to the backroom.

-You too. And, Kay? Thanks for being a positive influence on Amir.- Arthur’s sudden expression of gratitude surprised her, but she gave him a quick head bow before picking up the pace of her walk, hoping that her cheeks turning crimson again wasn’t noticed.

When Kaylessa returned to the backroom, she let out a sigh of… relief? She didn’t expect her request to be accepted, and yet there she was, her heart fluttering with joy and excitement. Preparing for sleep, she hummed a happy melody that she didn’t even know where she remembered it from. And she let the joyful anticipation lull her to sleep, even if she knew her dreams probably weren’t going to be so nice.

In the meantime, Amir paced happily around the arcade. Kay’s request was a bit unexpected, but it left him overjoyed all the same. His mind raced with questions and wondering what - and how - he should ask her about things. Was it going to be a date or a friendly talk? Regardless, he was going to embrace this opportunity to spend more time alone with her. Tomorrow was going to be good, wasn’t it?

—

March 15th, 1999

The next day, Amir was waiting in the food court of the mall since 13 ticked on the clock, his excitement making him unable to stay in the arcade. Surprisingly he hasn’t seen Kaylessa out and about yet on this day, but perhaps she was busy with something. The next hour came around however and he could feel his excitement replaced by anxiety as no sign of the Drifter was showing. His legs were bouncing and even his usual best game distractions didn’t seem to work to chase off the brain goblins.

“Maybe she forgot? Maybe she got really busy with something? Ormaybeshehatesmeactuallyandsetmeup-” his mind raced as minutes passed with no indication of change to her lack of presence. “Or maybe I should ask others if they’ve seen her. Yeahthatsoundsaboutrightshe’shelpingthemallalotafterall”.

With this resolution, he got up, the race of his heartbeat rivaling the pace of his steps. He took a deep breath to try rein himself in or he wouldn’t be able to talk to others otherwise.

First stop, Aoi’s music shop. Aoi just returned from her mission and was unpacking her gear when Amir peeked into her room, looking as if he wanted to hide out of embarrassment.

-Hey, Aoi… Have you seen Kay today? I haven’t seen her and sheaskedmetoeatwithherand… she didn’t show up yet.-

-No, but that sounds unlike her to not show up. I’ve been out all day though so maybe ask the others?- Aoi looked up at Amir, soft worry showing up on her face.

-Okaythanks- he immediately raced over to Arthur, who was cleaning up after cooking.

-Hey Arthur, have you seen Kay? - Amir stopped his movement, but his feet kept tapping as if he wanted to keep on going, as if the matter could not wait for answers.

-No.- Arthur looked at Amir surprised, but his face immediately turned slightly concerned. -I was going to ask you the same since she made a special order for you two and she also didn’t show up to pick up any bounties today. I’ve packed the portions for you two into lunch boxes though, feel free to grab them.- He pointed at the two boxes and Amir took them before heading off. The smell of a cheesy tomato sauce was unmistakable and he immediately realised what’s in the boxes. On one hand, it made him happy that she thought of this, on the other, a sense of dread settled in his mind that something was wrong.

Quincy was still out on a mission still and even then, Amir wouldn’t risk asking. No need to subject himself to ridicule.

As he ran over to Eleanor’s residing spot, he didn’t even cross the doorstep of the former furniture shop as she immediately reached out to his mind, as if she already knew what he came to her for.

“Go check on her. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I can’t seem to reach her. It’s not like Kaylessa to not be up and about already and absolutely not like her to ask for someone’s time and not show up without notice.” Eleanor’s worried tone scared Amir, but also reassured him in what he already knew he should do.

-You’re always so good at giving advice, Eleanor. Thankyouthankyouthankyou- he responded out loud, turning around and straight up leaping onto the halfway point between the floors and sprinting through the rest of the stairs and toward the backroom.

He passed the whispering Void doors with unease. Within the room there was nothing but calm and silence. Kalymos was sleeping near the stage monitoring area and Shale, Kaylessa’s kubrow, acknowledged Amir’s presence with a quick glance and a gruff snort before going back to sleep on the lounge couch left behind by Dr. Entrati.

-Atleastthedogdoesn’twanttoeatme- he halfheartedly mumbled to himself, his anxiety rising up again as he wasn’t sure what he was going to find upstairs. Taking deep breaths in futile attempts to calm himself down, he walked up and through the door to the lounge. He couldn’t help but notice how homely she made it feel with her decorations. Planters everywhere, pictures on the wall and… plushies. There were some plushies on the couch and a hint of a whole pile near the balcony. She even brought in some furniture that seemed otherworldly in a way. Perhaps brought over from the future or from Duviri? Was Duviri also future? Such thoughts didn’t matter right now, though.

Amir set the lunchboxes on the cabinet behind a soft armchair as he looked towards the part separated by curtains and he saw her on the bed that had the same styling as other furniture she brought in. His heart skipped a beat and sank a little in familiar sadness.

She was sleeping and she didn’t seem peaceful in that sleep at all, tossing and turning about, distressed gibberish escaping her mouth and her short crimson hair an utter mess. He immediately understood what was happening. After all, he was also often plagued with anguish in his sleep. At first he thought of waking her up by shaking her out of it but that wouldn’t be the right thing to do. He wasn’t even sure what was appropriate to do, but he decided to let his feelings guide him. Unusually carefully for him, he stepped forward and sat down on the edge of the bed. His leg bounced nervously as he slightly leaned, his hand reaching towards her. In the moment she was still on her side, Amir gently gave her cheek a soft caress, afraid of the touch startling her. It didn’t but it seemed to have some effect as her expression became more peaceful.

He let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Carefully, he moved the hair that dropped on her face up, thoughtlessly enjoying the softness of the crimson strands. He sat a bit more comfortably before moving his hand to grab hers.

He wasn’t even sure why he did this, surely she couldn’t feel the same way he does, right? What if what he was doing would scare her off? And yet, why did it feel so right to give her these tender gestures? His mind raced with hundreds of thoughts per second, a different kind of anxiety settling in. But he couldn’t get himself to stop.

After what seemed like forever, Kay slowly stirred awake. She squeezed Amir’s hand without realizing it at first, before a soft “Huh?” as she noticed an additional presence. Amir withdrew, his anxiety making his heart feel like it’s going up to his throat, almost expecting a berating for being a bit too brave with his affections.

-Amir?- she raised her head and then sat up, perplexed at first. -What… oh. OH. I’m so sorry, Amir I didn’t mean to…- she immediately panicked as she figured out that she slept through their arranged meet time. -I couldn’t seem to get out of these…

-It’s okay, Kay, it’s okayit’sokayit’snotyourfault- he didn’t even know why his instincts told him to do so, but he immediately wrapped his arms around the clearly distressed Drifter. -You had nightmares, didn’t you?

“justlikeIdobutdidn’thavethegutstotellyouandnowi’mprobablyunwittinglyforcingyoutotellmeaboutyours” his thoughts continued without letting that out.

-Yeah…-Kay accepted the hug, surprised but also relieved he wasn’t angry at her. She leaned into the embrace, letting out a sigh. -They often plague me… I keep reliving the Zariman nightmare in my mind over and over and over again... and this time they wouldn’t let up. I felt as if I sank into darkness.- her emerald green eyes welled up with tears she clearly has been holding back for a long, long time.

-I…knowwhatyoumean.- Amir nodded, tightening the hug. His first assumptions felt so silly now but he was glad to be proven wrong.

-And then I felt as if something touched me and I saw a soft flickering light and as I reached towards it, the nightmares couldn’t pull me any further in. It then felt like a warm handle that let me pull myself out.- she continued, trying to hide the blush springing up on her cheeks.

He smiled. While he lacked the courage to ask about this feeling further, something about her words made him feel a warmth he never experienced before. -Thank you for checking up for me, Amir. I mean it.

-Anytimenoproblem- Amir blurted out as his cheeks turned a shade of red. -I grabbed food from Arthur so if you’re hungry, we can eat… anddontfeelforcedtospeakaboutanythingyoudon’tfeelcomfortableaboutokay?

-Talking about it is never comfortable, but you deserve to know at least part of it.- Kay gave him a soft smile and they moved to the couch opposite to the bed.

—

During the meal, Kay talked about the more mundane parts of her pre-Zariman incident life that she remembered, happily feeding Amir’s curiosity about the future. She told him about her older sister, Aurelia. Once they finished the meal, Kay settled more comfortably on the couch, but her expression seemed anything but. Amir looked a bit concerned.

-Kay, really, if you don’t feel comfortable…

-I’ve made up my mind. A lot of my nightmares involve her. My guilt about her death. Maybe… maybe this will give me some closure.- she didn’t seem sure if she believed her last sentence but it was clear she resolved to tell everything about this part of her story.

Amir shifted, his leg bounced anxiously. Carefully, he put one arm around the Drifter, hoping to offer her some extra reassurance.It seemed to be appreciated, as she leaned her head on his shoulder and let out a long sigh. He gently moved his palm, letting the soft crimson threads weave in between his fingers and leaned his head on hers.

-So. When the failed jump happened. It was all pure chaos. My sister was an adult by then. And she was… she was…- Kaylessa didn’t even know when her voice started shaking, tears that welled up before now starting to run down her cheeks. She swallowed painfully and continued. -She was among the first to turn to madness caused by the Indifference.

Amir wrapped his second arm around her, giving her a tight, reassuring squeeze.

-It was like watching an animal, a beast, a monster, wearing the body of my beloved sister. It… was… and yet… wasn’t her. My parents had not turned yet and I went looking for her and I…- she took a few deep breaths, trying to not sob - I got cornered by her in one of the classrooms. She was going to kill me. I tried to call her, tried to get to her, but there was… nothing… left…

She could not hold it in anymore, sobs wracking through her. He pulled her in closer, allowing her to cry freely. He was entirely focused on her, on comforting her, on letting her let out the pain she clearly held onto for far too long. While it felt odd to him that he was the one she decided to trust with this, he didn’t want to let her down, not when she expressed endless patience for his excessive rants and raves. She slowly regained her composure once more.

-My survival instinct kicked in. I don’t remember what I grabbed, it all happened so fast, what I do remember was kneeling at her corpse, weeping. It wasn’t her anymore when I killed the body and yet… I could not stop the guilt, you know? And that guilt made it so when my parents turned… I could not bear to do the same to them even though it would probably be a mercy.

-Oh Sol and Lua, Kay. I’m so sorry. Idon’tknowhowIcouldcomfortyoubut… you carry so much guilt you do not deserve to carry. AndIfeellike…- he paused, unsure if he should continue the thought running in his mind.

-Like I constantly put myself last as a result and neglect my own feelings and needs? Yeah. That isn’t a wrong assessment.- She sighed, seemingly a bit relieved as if she tossed a lot of weight out of her body. -Sorry for burdening you with this story, but… thank you for being here and comforting me. It… it means a lot, you know?

-Thank you for trusting me enough to share.- he gave her one last tight hug before letting go, reflecting on the fact he didn’t share his burdens with her yet. But he felt he could trust her with them, when he was ready.

-She always protected me. And at the time, I felt like I failed to protect her in return. I still do. I’ve since promised myself to not fail anyone like that ever again. To honor her.- Kaylessa straightened out, looking at Amir with pure gratitude.

-I think you’re honoring her well, even if I’ddisagreeaboutyoufailing - Amir reciprocated the smile she gave him, his thoughts finishing once more without speaking out loud “Idon’tthinkyou’refailingatanythingyouresuchawonderfulandperfectperson”

She chuckled before getting up, the funny feeling in her mind swelling up again.

-Well, I should go help Lettie with the list of supplies for the field hospital. Perhaps tomorrow, when Arthur gathers leads on them, we could run together to get as much as we can?- Kay tilted her head expectantly, deep in her heart knowing the answer already.

-YES! Gladly!- Amir almost jumped up, excited about the prospect of a joint mission. They headed out of the backroom to carry on with the day, both surprised none of the Hex called them in, even though almost two hours passed since Amir entered the backroom.

#warframe #warframe 1999 #warframe amir #amir beckett #warframe drifter #drifter kaylessa #amir x drifter #fanfic #waframe fanfic #warframe 1999 fanfic #fanfiction #warframe fanfiction

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kept-confidence · 3 days ago

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Tether - a Drifteris Fic

[Read it on Ao3 here], or you can read it here on Tumblr too! I wanted to write something comforting in light of what happened in the first mission in Heresy — but I think this is also tinged with so much ache and want that it also ended up feeling a little sad. So I guess it's a mix of both, but I hope it offers some comfort still especially for the Drifteris folks :') * There are some not-explicit references to sex here!

The engines of the Derelict hum softly around them with a steady, deep resonance more felt than heard. In the quiet, private space of their shared cabin, it is dim, save for the lamp casting its soft, golden hue in the corner. For once, the rest of the world feels distant enough — as if they’ve successfully slipped between the gaps of time, as if they’ve finally found a space that belongs to only them alone.

Eris lies curled into Drifter’s side, her forehead pressed gingerly in the place where his shoulder meets his neck. Here, she permits herself to breathe in tandem with him, to feel the slow rise and fall stemming from his chest, and the warmth of him beneath the worn fabric of his shirt. Meanwhile, his arm is wrapped around her, palm spread across the smallness of her back, keeping her close and anchored to him.

Time stills itself with a silence that isn’t so much empty, but instead full of warmth, of tenderness, of the way that their bodies find each other and fit comfortably together in the quietude of the room. He moves first, turning over, the rustle of the sheets underneath punctuating the silence, and shifts just enough to tuck his chin over the top of her head. With a deep and tired sigh, his fingers begin to trace the scars along the ridge of her spine, following a pattern that he’d long since mapped and memorised — it is a constellation that only the two of them know; each placement, each story, and each lesson learnt.

“Ain’t had this in a long time,” he murmurs. It is a confession meant only for the silent space between them, and with a heavier touch he begins to trace slow, weighted circles against her back, pressing warmth into the fabric of his shirt that she’d long since claimed from him, and into her skin beneath. “B’fore ya, I mean. Y’know.”

Eris shifts to tuck herself closer against him, almost as if she could press herself into the shape of him. And where she could not press herself against she chose to intertwine herself with — her leg sliding between his, her arm wrapped around his side. For a fleeting moment she notices him catching his breath — something that she feels, more than she hears — and then he exhales again, with a deeper heaviness this time.

“There is no shame in wanting comfort,” she tells him, whispering quietly against his collarbone.

A small, tired laugh escapes from him. “Didn’t say there was, Moondust.” He pauses. Then, he begins again. “Just ain’t that used to it still.”

She understands — no, she knows. She knows what it is like to live with the gap of loneliness tucked into the hollow of her chest — what it feels like to only have the company of grief. To refuse to reach out because she, too, has spent too long convincing herself that there is no one to reach for, and no one who would reach back.

But he is here. His arm is here, wrapped gently around her waist. She hears his breath stirring against the crown of her head. And in this moment, he is hers.

She is more than aware that there is no need for her to respond verbally to his statement. Instead, she moves her hand, slipping it beneath the fabric of his shirt to find the warmth of his skin. Her fingers splay wide over his ribs and his beating heart, feeling the slow rhythm of his breathing, and the steady knocking of his heart. She allows her hand to rest there, lets herself memorize the heat of him, and the solid weight of him beneath her touch.

And that’s when she notices it — the tension. The way his breath hitches, just ever so slightly, whenever her fingers move. The way his shoulders just seem to be holding too much weight in the present, even now, even with her, in the warmth of their bed. She knows that she does not need to ask why.

Eris pulls back just enough to meet his gaze as he, in turn, repositions himself to meet her. He knows that she has noticed. His eyes flicker open — they are dark and unreadable, but she knows him all too well. He defaults to a smirk — an attempt to present himself as unbothered, and yet his fingers twitch against her back. He looks away from her. There is no hiding he can do under her careful gaze.

“You are thinking about it,” she says. “The mission.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs, even though it’s not as easy to hide as he wishes it could be.

Eris watches how his eyes meet hers for a brief moment before quickly looking away. Then, she presses her palm flat against his chest once more, feeling the way his heartbeat stutters under her touch. “You are nervous, Germaine.”

He scoffs, but it is soft, and the sound frays at the edges. One more attempt at evasion. “C’mon, Moondust. Y’know me. I don’t get nervous.”

She watches him, hand still placed firmly on his chest, waiting. His heart begins to beat at a faster pace, as if desperately trying to run away from the moment.

And eventually, he sighs. It is a long, slow exhale — a relinquishing of control over the heaviness in his heart. His hand moves to cover hers, and in this gesture, he presses her palm more firmly against his chest.

This time, their positions are reversed. He shifts low enough to be able to tuck his head under her chin, and in return, she shifts to welcome him into that space, pressing closer. His arms tighten instinctively around her. She has always known him to be careful with his touch — it has always been deliberate and measured — but tonight, there is something different in the way he holds her. There is a deep tension in his grip, a quiet urgency beneath his gentleness.

Eris exhales softly and lets her hand drift up his back, over the ridges of old scars and the lean muscle beneath. “Germaine,” she murmurs. He does not respond immediately, and only nuzzles his face deeper into the curve of her chest, hoping to escape whatever he does not wish to say.

She waits a beat, then speaks again, her voice quieter this time. “You hold me as if you expect to lose me.”

His breath shudders, and then immediately stills. There is nowhere else to run — only towards her. So he shifts once more, just enough to press his forehead to hers, fingers twitching as they rest at her waist.

“Can’t help it. Not with what’s comin’. The mission an’ all,” he murmurs.

Eris’s gaze traces the lines at the corners of his eyes, her touch sensing the tension that sits heavy in his jaw as she smooths her thumb over his cheek, and the place where his worry lingers most. He can feel his cheeks flushing — the feeling of tears welling up in his eyes. She can see it too — the light returning to his eyes.

“I am here,” she tells him, tilting his chin just enough to meet her gaze. “Now. With you. Would you like to be present in this moment with me as well?”

He watches her, his expression caught between something raw and tired. And then, finally, he nods, and closes his eyes, tightening his grip around her waist.

In response, she kisses him, slowly and deliberately, and he sinks into it, his breath evening out beneath the gentleness of her lips against his own. Now, there is no urgency between them, there is no rush. There is only warmth, and the quiet certainty of this shared moment — of an active choice to find and locate themselves in the present with each other.

Her fingers trace the sharp line of his jaw, and slide down thoughtfully until her palm settles at the base of his throat to feel the steady, grounding rhythm of his pulse. He exhales against her lips, his hand releasing her waist, and coming up to fill the space between her fingers, pressing it more firmly against his skin. It is as he needs the weight of her touch, as if he wants to be tethered to the moment, to her.

And so, she tethers him.

She presses herself closer to him, her body aligning with his in a way that feels natural and inevitable. His arms shift to curl around her and gather her in, hands moving under the fabric of her shirt like he is memorizing her and tracing the shape of her into his bones.

“You’re warm,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the corner of her mouth. Then, he sinks, lower to her neck, lower to her chest, and lower beneath her torso.

She hums in response — a soft, contented sound — and threads her fingers through the ruffled mess of his hair, pulling him closer to her core. His hair is soft between her hands, still slightly damp from the shower they’d taken together earlier, the strands curling where they fall against his forehead. In the moments where he must break away from her to breathe, she smooths his hair back, and watches as his eyes flutter shut for a moment as he leans into her once more.

There is something reverent in the way he holds her and tastes her, as if he is afraid to startle the moment, as if he wants to savor it, to stretch it out into something that would last beyond the walls of their room.

She understands, for she wishes the same.

As his name escapes from her between ragged breaths, she pulls his head up from below to meet her gaze — a signal from her that she wants more than the warmth of his tongue against her.

They shift again, and this time she is directly below her. She reaches out to wrap her arms around him, her fingers skimming over the ridge of his shoulder, down the line of his spine, and she senses the way he shivers under her touch. He sighs, deep and slow, and presses his forehead against hers. For a long moment, they breathe together, their bodies settling into the space between them, into the warmth they have made.

She watches him in the dim light, the glow of the lamp in the corner casting soft shadows over his face. There is something fragile in the way he looks at her, something unguarded, and she brushes her thumb over the space between his brows, smoothing out the tension there.

“I see you,” she whispers. “Now, will you see me too?”

He shudders, then leans down to press another kiss, a deeper one, to her lips. They take their time, and she tastes herself through him. Then, he presses another kiss to the corner of her mouth, then another, much softer, just beneath her ear.

And then he moves, pressing into the shape of her, and back into the bed, slow and careful, with care and tenderness, as if they have all the time in the world. For Eris, the weight of his shape is familiar and grounding, the warmth of him sinking deep into her like something permanent. Her hands find his waist, and her fingers curl against his skin under the fabric of his shirt. She closes her eyes and lets herself feel him at her core — the slow, deliberate way he moves, the warmth of his hands and the warmth inside of her, and the steady press of his body against hers. The way they fit, the way they move in quiet tandem — an unspoken understanding passing between them just like the moon and the tide.

He has always been careful with her. Always. But tonight, it is tinged with something else beneath it. Something quieter, and something much more certain. He lingers, and he does not rush. He touches her like he is learning her all over again, like he wants to map out and remember every inch of her, every shift of breath, every sound he can yield from her.

She lets him.

And when she reaches for him in turn, when she pulls him closer, it is not out of desperation, but instead out of knowing. Of understanding the reverence of the moment and what it means to the both of them. Of wanting to give him something to hold on to, something that will exist beyond this night, beyond tomorrow, and beyond whatever may come. She feels the way his ragged breath stirs against her skin, the way she moans into damp skin, the way his fingers tighten where they hold her. She feels the slow, steady weight of his love, and how it is pressed into her like something solid and sure.

And when they both finally settle, when their breathing evens out, when his forehead once again finds the curve of her shoulder and his fingers are intertwined loosely with hers, she lets herself believe — for this moment, at least — that they have all the time in the world.

She does not fill the silence with false promises — they both know better than that. But when she pulls him closer to her, when she lets her body tangle with his, she hopes he understands what her words cannot say: That for as long as this moment lasts, she will hold him just as fiercely in return.

#destiny 2 #drifteris #writing #the drifter #eris morn #drifter/eris #the drifter/eris morn #soft #kept-confidence #destiny 2 fanfiction

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sevastiel · 30 days ago

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Girls night!! :D

From Ch 25, Untouchable

"This time, he’d wake up and everything would be where he’d left it... They'd (never) take anything from him ever again."

I like to think that the GS drifter is the definition of 'oh hes cute!' and then 'oh hes a bit fucked up actually.' And also his mad grin of fuck you I can fight back now has been lingering in my head for a while, took me ages to figure out how to get it on page

#warframe #warframe 1999 #warframe drifter #arthur nightingale #art #fanfiction #guardian spiral #warframe art

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imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese · 2 months ago

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Surgery

In which the Drifter requests medical assistance from Eris Morn.

Now with art from @h3xxthev3xx !!!

Link to Ao3 if you prefer to read it there

ACCESS: RESTRICTED DECRYPTION KEY: 7CP9SXMO2G$IKO-006 REP#: 062-DERELICT-AUDIO AGENT(S): AUN-326 SUBJ: RECENT VIP#1316 and ERI-223 INTERACTIONS - MULTIPLE RECORDINGS

RECORDING 77455.8 [BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]

“Hey, Moondust!”

“What is it, Rat?”

“Serious question for you. I’ve been thinkin’-”

“A challenge for you, I’m sure.”

“Aww… you ruined it.”

“Ruined what?”

“Can’t tell you now. Maybe later.”

“Clearly it wasn’t that important.”

“Oh it was, but it can wait.”

“Speak plainly. What do you want?”

“Nope. Not telling you now. The moment is gone.”

[END TRANSCRIPT]

...

RECORDING 77456.4 [BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]

“Hey, Three-Eyes.”

“I am returning your call. Your message said it was important.”

“Yeah, so, um… you do dissections, right? Cutting stuff up, like, medically? For science?”

“Generally, yes.”

“So you’d be good at using tweezers to pull bits of shrapnel out from being embedded in human flesh, right?”

“What have you done?”

“I was working on a grenade idea, more of a mine, really, and it worked! It worked real well, actually. I’m proud of it. Misjudged the range a bit, though. Made myself into a bit of a pincushion. Was wondering if you’d be willing to help me out.”

“You have a ghost. Use it.”

“Nope. Not gonna happen. But, if you’re busy, that’s fine. I’ll deal.”

“I… do you even have antiseptic there? Bandages?”

“Yeah, a bright light and tweezers too, just need you to be the hands.”

“I am on my way.”

[END TRANSCRIPT]

...

RECORDING 77456.5 [BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]

“Ow.”

Plink.

“Do you prefer I stop?”

“Nope I prefer you keep going.”

“Then stop squirming.”

“It hurts.”

“You have punctured over one third of your body with foreign objects. Of course it hurts.”

“Ow.”

Plink.

“Upon cursory examination, that appears to be a shell casing.”

“Yeah I threw some in there. Ow.”

Plink.

“And this one… a finishing nail? From carpentry?”

“Yeah, tossed that in there too, whatever I had lying around, really. Ow.”

“A metal screw. Not pointed. For fastening metal, most likely, but rather small. From electronics, perhaps?”

Plink.

“Probably. I wasn’t paying much attention when I stuffed the thing. Oh dammit.”

“This one is curved and deeply embedded. I am trying to be gentle but if I do not pull it out, it is just going to work its way in deeper. It looks like broken glass.”

“Yeah I put some of that in there too. Ah shit. Fuck!”

“I have extracted it.”

Plink.

“That was probably the worst one. Just a few more and this leg will be done. Do you need a break?”

“Nope. Let’s get it over with.”

“I would let you squeeze my hand through the pain, but I need both of mine to remove what you’ve done to yourself.”

“Yeah, I know, thought’s real sweet though. Sweeter than you normally are. You must feel sorry for me. Ugh.”

Plink.

“Have you decided whether or not you will ask me what you were going to ask me before?”

“Nope. Now is definitely not the time. Ow.”

Plink.

“I am curious as to what has you so reserved. You are not normally bashful.”

“Ow.”

Plink.

“I don’t… I don’t even know what that means. But that hurts.”

“I spoke too soon. This one is another that is much deeper than expected. You are bleeding quite a bit. I recommend we stop.”

“Is that the last one?”

“In this leg, yes. I have not yet examined the rest of you.”

“Get it outta me.”

“Can I convince you to reconsider your ghost?”

“No. You take it out or I will.”

“The cleanest way to remove this will be to cut it out of you.”

“Then do that.”

“Why are you so stubborn about this?”

“Because I am.”

“Will you at least get your ghost to give you something for the pain? I am hurting you considerably.”

“No.”

“What about alcohol?”

“I have plenty of that, yeah.”

“Where is it?”

“Second door on the left, back cupboard up high has the strong stuff.”

“Do you have a preference?”

“Whiskey.”

“In a glass?”

“Nah. This ain’t a glass kinda situation.”

“I will return.”

[END TRANSCRIPT]

...

RECORDING 77456.6 [BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]

“I told you I didn’t need a glass, Moondust.”

“This is for me, when I’m done. The rest of the bottle is yours.”

“I mean, the whole thing is mine, but fine, Doctor Three-Eyes, you can take your cut.”

“I shall, and the alcohol too. Now drink some of that while I clean up the rest of you and prepare the incision site.”

“You say such sexy things when you’re working. What? What’s that look for?”

“You are not normally this careless. What actually happened?”

“I am not in the habit of lying to you, Moondust. In fact, I don’t even know if I can. You see through everything. I do not think I have ever successfully convinced you something was true when it was not.”

“You are not in the habit of lying to anyone. You simply do not state the full truth, constantly deflect conversations, and allow people to believe whatever they want to be true without ever correcting them. It is what makes your methods of deception so effective.”

“You… you really do know me, Moondust. Ain’t no one ever been able to get in my head like you. Ow!”

“Drink more. You are still too sensitive for me to proceed.”

“Get me drunk, in a compromising position, and then stick things into me. I see how it is.”

“Keep insinuating that I’d behave in such a manner as to take advantage of you and you will be left to extract this distorted… spring? on your own.”

“I’m sorry. That was actually out of line. I trust you more than anyone. You know that. I was trying to make a joke and worded that way wrong. Didn't come out as flirty as it did in my head.”

“You are in considerable pain. “

“Don't forget the blood loss.”

“Drink more alcohol you… clumsy fool.”

“That has to be one of the gentlest insults you’ve ever thrown at me. You are being nice to me. What I was trying to say before was more that you are at this point literally trying to get me drunk. I might say anything.”

“Any confessions of undying love will not be held against you when you are sober.”

“Well there goes that plan out the window. How am I supposed to tell you of my undying love so you won't believe me when I'm drunk and I can deny it later if you don't feel the same way so it isn't awkward?”

“I have faith in your ability to be forthright and lewd without chemical assistance. And you have yet to show any reservations about being awkward in my presence so I doubt that is an issue. Also, drink.”

“Yes ma'am. Oh shit that stings.”

“Disinfectant usually does.”

“So let's say, hypothetically, I was truly madly deeply hopelessly in love with you, what would be the best way to go about getting you to love me back? Hypothetically.”

“Let me see the bottle. Not enough. Drink. Hypothetically, your premise is flawed, rendering the logic of the entire question unanswerable.”

“Come again?”

“There is an inherent assumption in what you have asked, hypothetically, which would itself be, again hypothetically, incorrect.”

“And what's that?”

“The assumption that I do not care for you already.”

“Wait what?”

“More. Drink.”

“Did you just say what I think you just said?”

“I said nothing. We were speaking hypothetically.”

“Ah, because I could have sworn you said you love me. Totally am starting to feel a buzz though so that may have been wishful thinking on my part.”

“Clearly someone who shows up in the middle of the night to remove foreign objects from your flesh because you are too stubborn to get help from your ghost does not have any affection for you in the slightest. You obviously imagined that. Do you have scissors?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I'm cutting off your pants.”

“Now I know I'm dreaming.”

“Hmmm…”

[END TRANSCRIPT]

...

RECORDING 77456.8 [BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]

“Are you ready?”

“Ready as I'll ever be to have a beautiful woman scar me for life.”

“You have more than one life. This is a non-issue.”

“Point.”

“I am beginning now.”

“Fuck.”

“Pausing for a moment here. I've got the object. I have a mostly clear path to pull it free.”

“Ok.”

“I'm going to have to wiggle it. This will be painful.”

“Eris Morn, mistress of pain, I submit to your will. Hurt me you beautiful three eyed witch.”

“Is it the alcohol or the pain that's making you so eloquent?”

“Probably both, plus that undying love.”

“Hold on to something that is not me. Three… two… one...”

[INTERMITTENT SCREAMING 43 SECONDS]

“Did you just freeze my ass with stasis?”

“To stop the bleeding, yes. You have needle and thread?”

“Yeah desk over there, bottom drawer.”

“And I'll find a pot within which to boil water within your kitchen area?”

“Yeah.”

“A clean pot?”

“I ain’t the one that leaves a burned wok lying around unusable for a month. I use my pots. They’re all clean. Trust.”

“Be still until I return.”

“You’ve got me frozen to the table. I couldn't move if I wanted to.”

“You're a resourceful creature. I'm sure you'd find a way if you wished to be free, but please don't.”

“I'm staying put. You say stay, I stay.”

[END TRANSCRIPT]

...

RECORDING 77456.8 [BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]

“You keep doin sweet gentle stuff like brushing your chin against the top of my head like that I’m gonna start thinking you like me or something.”

“It is difficult to express reassurance to you any other way when my hands are coated in your blood.”

“If I’m good will you nuzzle my head again? Or is it if I wiggle? What gets me more head nuzzles, Moondust?”

“Be still, Rat. You are messing up my stitches.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re weirdly good at sewing human flesh?”

“No, but I accept the compliment.”

“It barely even hurts where you’re sewing. You really are good.”

“Thank the alcohol.”

“I’m thanking you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You know, there ain’t no one else I trust like this.”

“I know. It is an honour to have your trust. One I do not take lightly. I know how rarely it is given.”

“If by rarely, you mean pretty much not at all, yeah.”

“Are you going to tell me what you were going to ask me?”

“Now’s really not the time.”

“I think we have cleansed the last of your blood off of most surfaces and ourselves.”

“You patched me up real good. You make a fine surgeon.”

“Usually my subjects are not still alive.”

“You gonna stay and finish that drink?”

“I had forgotten. Yes. I shall. But first would you like help to your bed?”

“You and me in my bed? I like this.”

“Avoid putting weight on that side. You can, and will, rip the stitches if you exert it too much before you’ve healed.”

“I like this side of you, all sweet and nurturing. If I’d known you’d be this nice to me I’d… nah that was stupid and I won’t be doing that again.”

“Thank you.“

“Still proud of how well it exploded though. Gonna give some of them to Devrim to put around the farm. Should very effectively shred anything that comes to mess with the civilians. I really didn’t think I was in range. You know how careful I am.”

“I know. Sit. I will return.”

“You gonna come back and cuddle me? I’d like that.”

“No, but if you wish, I will sit with you while I finish my drink.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

"I'd expect nothing less"

[SILENCE 8.25 MINUTES]

“Woman of my dreams, bringing me the bottle after putting me to bed. You really are the best, Three-Eyes.”

“Sit up.”

“Ok. Oh hello. You let me lie in your lap like this, you must feel sorry for me.”

“No. There is nowhere else to sit.”

“I disagree, this is half-way to cuddling right here. You like me. Ain’t no one sit like this with someone they don’t like.”

“I sewed your skin. That’s considerably more testament to me liking you than this, and this is at least comfortable for both of us.”

“It’s real nice. ‘Specially when you touch my face like that.”

“Hmmm…”

“I propose a toast.”

“To?”

“Why, to the most excruciating and intimate experience you and I have shared to date. The night Eris Morn sewed up the Drifter after he blew himself up.”

Clink.

“Hmmm…”

“You like it?”

“It tastes like… wood and paint thinner.”

“That’s just the first few sips. Flavour changes as you go.”

“Hmmm…”

“You should visit my bed more often, Moondust, it’s nice.”

“If you wish I will return tomorrow and change the bandages to make sure you aren’t getting infected.”

“I’d like that. You know… you could… stay.”

“And sleep with you in your bed?”

“Yeah. Don’t tell me that doesn’t sound real nice to you too. Not when you’re running your fingertips through my hair like that, like you’re already considering it.”

“Perhaps now is the time to ask me what you were going to ask me?”

“You sure those eyes don’t give you mind reading powers?”

“One does not need to read your mind, when they can read your body language, and between the lines of what comes out of your lips. You have not been discrete.”

“No, I have not. But, if you already know what I was going to ask you, what’s your answer then?”

[SILENCE 3.75 MINUTES]

“That… is worth getting blowed up for.”

“Please do not. Multiple lacerations and shrapnel from improvised explosive devices are not a prerequisite for my affection.”

“Can you let me know what the pre-”

“The pre-”

“The p-”

“You know, Moondust, it’s been a very long time, literally longer than I can remember, since someone was able to make my head spin with just a few kisses.”

“That is more likely being caused by a combination of shock, blood loss and alcohol.”

“Nah. Had all three lots of times. This is all you.”

“You’re trembling.”

“Yeah, it happens.”

“Let me get you under the blankets.”

“I ain’t cold. It’s just you feel so good. You feel so fucking good. Wait, where you going?”

“To take off my boots. Move over and get under the covers so that I may join you.”

“Oh hell yeah, you’re just making all my dreams come true right now.”

“Be careful of your stitches or you’ll bleed all over both of us and your bed.”

“Worth it.”

“Behave yourself or I will leave.”

“Yes ma’am. Ah shit, Eris, I can’t handle how soft and warm you are when I’m this drunk. I’m gonna cry.”

“You are inebriated and injured and I am choosing to stay. Alcohol induced emotional outbursts are to be expected and are a reflection of your trust, which is precious to me. I consider it an honour to hold you as you cry.”

[END TRANSCRIPT]

#destiny 2 #the drifter #eris morn #moonrat #drifteris #the drifter/eris morn #drifter/eris #ao3 #fanfiction #writing #moonrat radio #surgery #imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese #cs member writing

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erisxdrifter · 11 days ago

Text

Burgeoning

A loud clang against the metal door jerked Eris from her far distant thoughts as she sat at her work desk, poring over a large Hive volume. She blinked her three glowing eyes once before folding a dog ear on the top corner of the page and shutting the book with a thump.

She pushed her chair back, sending a jarring screech throughout the room as the wood scratched against metal. She proceeded to stand to her aching feet, instinctively laying her Ahamkara bone to rest in her palm, poised and ready.

"Eris?" A voice called out from behind the door as she approached.

She tapped in a code on the nearby console, and the door slid open a moment later to reveal a grinning Drifter.

"I had believed you were through sending me these meals." Eris observed the metallic box in his hands. "And even more, I am surprised you came to deliver this one yourself."

"Well, y'know how it is. I thought I'd make you another meal today since I got finished up with my work sooner 'n usual. Plus I figured you might like the company, seein' how you spend a lotta time by yourself." He slipped through the door and past Eris before she could react. "Wow, Moondust, this place could use a little cleanin' up, don't you think?"

They both took a quiet moment to observe the messy interior of the room. Papers and books were piled and strewn about, strange Hive knickknacks lay scattered, innumerable small beads and rocks lay in scattered little piles on the shelves of jars filled with obscure contents.

"This," she began. "coming from the overseer of that heap you call the Derelict?"

"That 'heap' is an organized one. This?" he gestured around the room. "This is a mess made by someone who clearly ain't been givin' herself enough restin' time."

"I am fine." She confirmed the door behind her was locked before walking past the Drifter and setting the Ahamkara bone atop the one clear space on her desk. "If you merely intend to mock me, then I would like to request you leave."

"You know I ain't here to mock you," the Drifter replied. "I brought you dinner."

"What is it?"

"Well, I know how much you liked my previous meals, so figured I'd make you a little mix of everythin'. Made you some gyōza, springrolls, eggrolls, some more dumpling of course, and a couple other things." He held the box firmly in one hand and cleared a spot on the nearby coffee table with the other, scooting some books and papers aside.

"What are you doing?" She asked, voice etched with suspicion as the Drifter set the box down and approached her.

"Makin' sure your okay." He replied simply. "Your lookin' a little pale."

"I am fine-"

"I knew you'd say that, which is exactly why I didn't bother askin'. I wanna know the truth, Eris."

The weight in his voice as he spoke her name, along with the intensity of his gaze, drug a truth out of Eris that she wasn't even aware she was intending to admit.

"I am tired." She said, such simple words holding such a heavy load.

He nodded. "Which is why you need to sit down and eat somethin'."

"I have much work to do-"

"And it can wait." He put both his palms under her elbows, causing her hands to rest on his upper arms. "Like you've said before, if the world can't manage without the work of a single person, then we're all doomed anyway. So will you just stop for a minute and eat somethin' I worked my ass of makin' for you?"

Eris pursed her lips, not wanting to acknowledge that he was right, but still knowing it all the same. She nodded reluctantly and allowed him to guide her over to the short sofa. He picked up the stacks of books and papers from one corner and set them down on the floor. Then he took Eris's hand again and forced her to take a seat.

He turned back for a moment to retrieve the bento box from atop the table, then kneeled in front of Eris and set it on her lap.

"Are you not going to sit beside me?" Eris asked, stopping the Drifter before he could open the box.

She hated having to forestall eating when the realization of her hunger was becoming gradually quiet clear to her, but she knew that if she did not make the offer then he would continue to kneel at her feet, a prospect she was not particularly comfortable with.

He smiled, almost timidly, Eris noted, as he cleared what space he could and sat beside her, ending up sitting far closer than he had intended, due to the towering pile of books crowding him on his other side.

"This is fine," Eris told him, surprising even herself by how insistent she was that he not move further away. "What are the contents of this box?"

He leaned closer and began opening it as he said, "there's some potstickers and wasabi, too, along with all the other stuff I mentioned earlier."

"Is there enough of everything that we may share?" She continued looking down at the bento box in her lap, though she could tell the Drifter's surprised eyes were locked on her face.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, there should be," he replied, a smile in his voice as he lifted up the lid and set it on a nearby book.

The culmination of scents that arose from the inside of the box brought a relaxed smile to Eris's face, and lifted some of the pressure from off her heart.

"It smells quiet good." She told him.

"Well then, dig in!" He grinned, regaining his usual charismatic charisma.

"What should we try first?" Eris asked, scooting the box over so that it would rest on both of their legs.

"Here, try this springroll." He pointed down to the crispy brown cylinder, which Eris then took and broke in half, vegetables spilling over from the openings.

They both ate a half, and proceeded to enjoy the tasty delicacy in silence. They went on like this through the gyōzas, eggrolls, dumplings, potstickers, along with occasionally dipping their food in the spicy green wasabi.

"Thank you, Germaine," Eris said once they had finished their meal. She took the bento box, and the Drifter expected she was going to stand, calling an end to their night. But instead, she merely leaned across him to set the box atop the lid which the Drifter had earlier set on a book.

His breath caught in his chest, and he could only pray Eris hadn't noticed as she leaned back into her seat.

He noted how she had used that moment, putting away the bento box, to unsuspectingly scoot closer to him. They had started off that night with their arms only slighty touching, and now sat with shoulders pressed against one another. And judging by the faint smile he spied on her lips, he knew she'd done it on purpose. Not that he minded, anyway.

"You gettin' back to work any time soon, Eris?" He asked.

"That completely depends on your plans for the rest of the evening." She replied.

"Yeah?" He breathed in deep, rallying his confidence before pulling his arm up and draping it over her shoulders. Without missing a beat, she accepted his offer and leaned into his side.

She put her face against his neck, and this time he knew she noticed his breath catch- there was no point in hoping she hadn't when he caught the smile that she thought he couldn't see. But it was worth it, he conceded to himself, as he relaxed his arm comfortably around her shoulders.

"It's funny to think that so many years ago, I woulda never dreamed somethin' like this would happen. 'Specially not between us." The Drifter chuckled, trying to laugh off his shaking nerves. She was so, so close to him, he could hear her soft breathing and feel her armor pressing against his side.

"Yes, it is fascinating, the amount of growth and change that can occur inside oneself, and between two people, in a mere few years." Eris replied, her voice steady as she smoothed off a wrinkle along her robes.

"Yeah." He replied. "You feelin' any better?" He looked down, observing her cheeks for any sign of their earlier paleness.

"I am fine, thank you." Eris replied. "And yes," she interrupted before he could interrogate her further. "I truly mean it."

"The dinner help? Or the sittin' down?"

"Perhaps both. It is nice to finally rest."

The Drifter stared over at her, studying the strange smile that threatened her lips, and the color that had begun to return to her cheeks. Without thinking, he reached out to put his hand under her chin, tilting her face toward him.

The expression behind her eyes held both her surprise and her appeal as she stared back at him.

"I'm sorry," the Drifter blurted out, jerking his hand away, but finding himself unable to tear his eyes from her own.

"For what?" Eris asked.

"Just, uh... I dunno..." he cleared his throat, fidgeting a little, trying to gather his thoughts. But it was hard to think when she was this close to him, when her eyes were locked so squarely on his own.

And in a mere second, he went from awkwardly fidgeting and fumbling for a response, to shoving his face against hers in a kiss that surprised the both of them.

He was away from her in an instant, the back of his hand against his mouth, eyes wide and focused on the floor.

The silence that followed was long and void. Thoughts raced at lighting speed through the Drifter's mind, millions of questions popping up again and again, until finally the only one that really mattered settled,

'How would she respond?'

He took a deep breath, and leaned over on his knees, still unable to look at her, still pondering over that question, but too terrified to attempt discerning the answer by meeting her gaze.

"Did I screw this up?" He finally questioned aloud.

"Do you believe you screwed this up?" She asked simply, no emotion behind her voice.

"I hope not." Was all he could say in reply as he finally forced himself to meet her gaze.

What he was met with was the blank expression of the three eyed woman he had come to care for so dearly. At first glance, he took that expression to mean that he had made a mistake. But as he continued scouring her face, he began to see a slight- very slight- smile at her lips, and then he noticed that the color of her cheeks had reddened, once again, ever so slightly.

He put a palm against her cheek, allowing the black tears flowing from her eyes to slide along his hand as he tightly shut his own eyes and leaned closer, until his lips were very softly against her own. She accepted the invitation and returned his kiss with a subtle enthusiasm, letting the moment drift by them, allowing all time around them to slow down.

Suddenly, the Drifter jerked away, muttering a string of curses under his breath and hiding his face from her.

"What is it?" Eris asked, alarmed. "What is wrong?"

"Nothin'," he replied, more forcibly than intended.

He was once again leaned over, elbows on his knees, face hidden from her view.

"Then what is it?" Eris asked, leaning over beside him. She wasn't sure whether to be worried or to be hurt by the way he had tore himself away from her.

He remained silent, but his breathing had grown quick, and his whole body quivered beside her on the cramped sofa.

The seconds that passed by felt like years as Eris watched the Drifter's hunched frame, and felt his leg shake against her own.

Tired of waiting and worrying, Eris took his face in her cool palms and forced him towards her. And then she was met with a sight that softened her heart, and she grew intently focused on the task of wiping away the tears that had fell from the Drifter's warm blue eyes down his scarred cheeks. He cursed again and shut his eyes against her hands.

"I'm-"

Eris pressed her fingertips against his lips, delighting in the shiver that ran through them when she made contact with his skin.

"Do no apologize again, Germaine, when there is no apology required."

She could tell he was embarrassed, ashamed, even, for the tears that Eris was now swiping away. Where he saw shame, Eris saw the opening and growth of a man who, for so many years, had tied himself shut and closed himself off, and she desired dearly to help him through his pain.

He cursed again, reaching up to wipe away his own tears, only to be swiped away by Eris's firm wrist.

"Shhh," she murmured, shutting her three glowing eyes and putting the bridges of their noses together, her thumbs still stroking his cheekbones.

"I, uh..." The Drifter began, attempting to recover the situation, but finding himself at a loss of what to say.

"If you would like my input on the situation," Eris began, her voice low and warm, eyes still closed. "I believe you have been hurt and wrought of joy for many, many, long years. Thus, you enclosed yourself as a means of protection. Distancing yourself from any who may grow to become too close for what you grew to be comfortable with." She could hear his quickened breathing as she spoke. "You did not expected this to happen, for us to become what we have grown to be. You admitted that yourself only this evening. And perhaps..." she caressed his cheek. "Your emotions took you by surprise. Which would conclude the reason for these?" She wiped away another tear.

"Yeah..." he let out a shaky sigh, and after some silence he continued on to say, "Yeah... your probably right."

"Your tears are nothing to be ashamed of, Germaine." She whispered, pulling away to look into his eyes. They were shiny, reflecting the green of her own eyes quiet clearly, but no longer streaming tears.

He chuckled, rubbing his eyelids. "Reckon I made a mess of that moment, huh?"

"Quiet the contrary," she replied. "I believe this moment was beneficial and necessary, for both you and myself."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"Well..." he sighed through his nose. "Can I have another go?"

"At what, exactly?"

"We had somethin' nice goin' for a hot second, 'till it, uh, got interrupted."

"Oh, I see." Eris let out a small laugh, which was all the answer the Drifter needed.

Soon enough, they were entranced in a warm kiss, uninterrupted like their last had been.

When they pulled away, the Drifter was smiling a wide, happy, joyous smile, granting Eris another moment where she could spy at the man he truly was underneath all the grime he hid beneath. She smiled.

"I know it was unintended," Eris began softly. "But your opening up was, and still is, quiet appreciated."

"Heh..." he pulled her to him in a sideways hug against the sofa. "Yeah."

She sighed. "As reluctant as I am to say this, I must return to my work soon."

The Drifter proceeded to sigh as well. "I oughta be headin' back myself, I reckon." He admitted.

Eris drug herself away from the sofa, getting to her feet as the Drifter grabbed the bento box and lid.

"Thank you once again for the meal you shared with me, Germaine."

The Drifter smiled. "Pleasure's mine, Eris." He stepped closer and pulled them together in a hug. "Thank you for... for helpin' me earlier." He whispered against her ear.

"Of course." Eris murmured. "You have come to mean much to me, and I would readily aid and guide you through any plight that may arise."

They held one another for a moment longer before Eris pulled away, leading them to the door and putting in the code that opened it to the dark night outside.

"Hey!" The Drifter called out, spinning on his heels and turning back towards Eris from his spot a few feet outside the door. "See you tomorrow? Not sure I got quiet as much time to make a big nice meal for the both of us, but I'm sure we can figure somethin' out."

"I would be greatly pleased to do so." Eris replied with a smile from the doorway.

He grinned, eyes lingering on her for a moment longer.

"Eris?"

"Yes?"

He gave her a smile, one that carried emotions of joy and sadness.

"Thank you for bein' someone I can trust."

"Thank you, Germaine, for granting me your trust."

They both exchanged gentle and knowing smiles as the Drifter transmatted away, and the door shut.

#drifteris #moonrat #eris morn #the drifter #destiny 2 #destiny the game #destiny 2 fanfic #destiny 2 fanfiction #destiny 2 fan lore #I wanted to write something sweet and emotional #hope yall enjoy :)

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