#Crow x Young Wolf

[kirakuudere1]

chat I just made this

[dragonanalei]

not me drawing crow and my guardian again

i love them, your honor

[kaz-identified]

"Do you think we're friends in every universe?"

"There's not how the multiverse works."

Crow throws up his hands, looking down at where the Young Wolf is tapping away furiously at a datapad on the bench next to him. "Oh, of course. Traveler forbid we use our imaginations."

The Guardian looks up, rolling their eyes. "But like, objectively that's not how it works. There's infinities within infinities of the universe there's infinite worlds where we're friends, infinite worlds where we're enemies, infinite worlds where we're something between, infinite worlds where we're something more. Infinite worlds where we don't even know each other. That's how infinity works. Infinity exists within itself. Infinity contains multitudes of infinity. Does that make sense?"

"...kind of?" Crow half-answers.

The Guardian shrugs. "Well. It's complicated. But to answer your question, no. But we're friends in an infinite number of them. And we're friends in this one. And that's good enough."

Crow smiles. "Yea, that is good enough."

[maccreadysbaby]

Just watched my dad stare at crow for a solid thirty seconds (during which crow was making cute comments), then turn to go back up the HELM’s stairs and run right into the wall. Couldn’t relate more honestly. Crow has that effect on us all.

[grabthekitties]

Azrin Till and Crow

Comission for @cinereys ✨💖

[phantomwarrior12]

Cold Surprise

Traveler, she's exhausted.

The gun in her hand is heavier than it should be and she can't shake this chill seeping along her spine.

Europa is the antithesis of an ideal location for a mission and she's begun to lose feeling in her fingers despite the Solar energy singing through her veins.

She's beginning to think Elsie's lead is a dead end as well.

The wind picks up and the Guardian curls in on herself a fraction just before she picks up on the sound of a transmat behind her. Her head lifts just as Crow kneels beside her, his hood drawn up over his head, his eyes fixated on the canyon below.

"Anything?" He calls over the wind.

"Nothing," her Ghost supplies over the radio. "We've been up here for hours. I don't think that House of Salvation captain is coming."

Crow looks at the Guardian, her form visibly trembling from the cold now. He inches closer, maneuvering behind her before his arms bind around her shoulders from behind.

The Young Wolf goes rigid for an instant before leaning back against him.

"You're frozen," Crow reprimands, hot breath fanning against the side of her neck.

She hums a sound of assent, cuddling back against the wall of heat behind her. His Light is so much stronger than her own right now. She'd had to amplify hers - crank up the heat, as it were, to counter the extreme temperatures of Europa.

That was more than fourteen hours ago.

No wonder she's so tired.

Crow gives her a gentle squeeze, shielding her frame from the wind. "How long until you want to call it?"

"Few more hours?" The Guardian offers softly, angling her head to rest against his.

"Guardian, you're already half froze to death."

"You're here to keep me warm now," she murmurs, smiling beneath her helmet.

"Now you sound delirious."

She snorts, readjusting her hold on her weapon, flexing aching muscle as she scans the passage below them.

"Here," Crow's Light surges, solar cascading against every inch of her back. It seeps beyond the chill, warming her to something more tolerable. His hands move, closing around hers on the rifle.

She wonders how cold he is but then the question is chased away by heat flourishing along leather and almost instantly warming her fingers.

"Thank you," she manages, bumping her helmet against Crow's shoulder gently.

"Anytime, Guardian."

It's only after the cold is chased from the forefront of her mind that she realizes exactly how close Crow is. His chest pressed against her shoulder blades. His breath against the side of her neck.

She stifles a shiver but there's enough movement that Crow tightens his hold around her - as if he thought she still needed to be warmed and the flush he can't see along her face is from the cold.

"You alright?" Crow murmurs softly.

"Fine," she forces out, just trying to draw a full breath but too aware of his touch and proximity to do anything but stay still and close and warm.

His fingers trace along her knuckles, almost like a soothing gesture before he gives her a squeeze.

"You're rigid, Guardian."

Thank the Traveler for her helmet to hide the crimson quickly overpowering the rose in her cheeks.

"...stiff. From the cold," she scans the canyon. "Don't wo–"

Crow's hands move up her forearms, massaging around gauntlet plating. His fingers leave every nerve on fire in their wake for an entirely different reason. She finds it more and more difficult to pull free, to tell him to return to the H.E.L.M. and stop distracting her. To not soothe–

Fuck it.

The Young Wolf sags against him, letting her eyes flutter shut as he works over her muscles.

Crow chuckles above her head and she swears he presses a kiss to the hood of her cloak. By the time he reaches her shoulders, she's struggling to stay awake.

Perhaps she got too comfortable despite the frigid cold around her.

"I think we're done here," Crow says softly, easing his arms around her waist, "Let's get you home, Guardian, before my Light starts to succumb to the cold."

She snorts but lets him help her up. Ghost transmats her rifle away and Crow guides her arm around his shoulders to steady her.

"We'll take my ship. You're in no condition to fly." Crow smiles down at her.

If she had the energy to argue, she would. But letting the Gunslinger look after her is more enticing after being half froze to death for hours on end.

"I'll fly it remote," Ghost assures her and she offers nothing more than a nod. She is far too aware of the Hunter's touch along her waist, the warmth of his frame against hers.

They've never been this close to one another. Never more than strides side-by-side through a hall. All those months ago, that night by the fire when they drank and talked…she hadn't broached that barrier. They'd sat shoulder to shoulder, enjoying the night. She tries to forget Savathún had been there, focus simply on the flutter she didn't recognize in her chest - the very same she feels now.

As the two are swept up in a transmat from Glint, the Young Wolf presses closer to Crow after they land in the hold of his ship. He guides her over to a small cot in the corner, helping the Gunslinger down. She groans softly as she settles, the full extent of the ache registering on dulled senses.

"I'll be right back," he murmurs, touching her helmet gently before disappearing up into the cockpit.

That was…almost an endearing gesture.

She curls up, willing her Solar to rise and warm her but it will not obey. It sputters in protest before settling back in its steady, low thrum output.

Dammit. Exhaustion must be getting to me.

Around her, the ship shudders as it climbs through the atmosphere, blasting from the blizzard into cold, open space.

"Glint, take it from here," Crow's voice carries from the cockpit before his form fills the entryway to the hold.

She can feel his gaze on her. Steady, yet, somehow searing. It burns along her form and—

No. No, that's her nerves learning what sensation is once more. Still, her head tilts so she can watch Crow approach. He grabs an emergency blanket, unfurling the fabric before draping it over her.

He's so close.

He leans on the cot, tucking the edges around her body while she can do little more than stare up at him in wonder from behind a visor.

"You're not all that subtle when you stare, Guardian." He teases warmly and her cheek flush, her gaze immediately snapping away from him

"Thank you," she manages softly.

"You're very welcome, Guardian."

He sounds so…genuine. Gentle and sweet and–

He's climbing onto the cot to lay beside her.

The Young Wolf uncurls a bit to make room, embarrassed she'd - well, she was cold. He won't fault her for that.

As she stares at Crow across from her, mere inches from her helmet, the Gunslinger opens his arms for her. "Come here. You need to warm up and Solar is the easiest way to do that."

"I'm–"

"Damn near frozen to death. Come here. I don't bite…hard." That sweet yet mischievous smile of his flashes across soft lips–

When did she start looking at his lips? Why did she start looking–

Actually, it doesn't matter. It's fine. She can warm up and it will all be fine. She can do this.

"Ghost?" She whispers, not trusting her voice to be steady at full volume. But then again, Crow might presume she's just shaking from the cold.

Her companion transmats in and sweeps his Light over her. In the process, her Ghost replaces her armors with warm, dry clothes and only then does the Young Wolf shift closer to Crow and snuggle in.

He's so warm.

Her only thought.

Not 'he smells nice'. Or 'he's very muscular beneath all those layers'.

Just…he's warm.

That's all that matters to her utterly exhausted brain and that's what she'd hoped for.

The Young Wolf buries her face against the warm skin of his neck. With Crow's arms around her, she's more than content to try and rest for the duration of the flight home.

"Comfortable?" He asks, his voice rumbling through her and she shivers for a reason beyond the cold.

Not trusting her voice, she makes a sound of assent. Perhaps he'll attribute it to her exhaustion.

"You can touch me," he teases. "Might be warmer if you–" he hisses in surprise as she presses frigid fingers against the other side of his neck.

"Funny."

She hums a soft chuckle.

You told me to touch you.

His arm unwraps from around her and takes her hand, heat rolling off his fingers in gentle waves. It pierces through the cold, warming her very bones and she's never been more relieved to be pulled off a post early.

"Thank you…Crow." She whispers.

"You're welcome, Guardian. Now rest, that's an order. Old Light."

She doesn't take orders from a New Light…but just this once, she'll make an exception.

After all, he's here to keep her warm now and that's all she needs.

—

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

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

Crow’s Guardians: @thejediassassingirl

[cinisekha]

*barfs this up on your front porch and skitters away*

[hawkmoonloretab]

got this commission from @haykebyr recently and im so so so so obsessed w it

[silversiphondraws]

Mourning

There's been a lot of grief this month. So some Crow comfort.

[relentless-endurance]

comission done by @abyss-wolf of my young wolf, Fenn, and everyone's favorite Crow.

they're in love ur honor

[kirakuudere1]

Another drawring

[dragonanalei]

Saw a cute pose on pinterest and had to draw them :3

[kaz-identified]

houseofmcallister presents... Pink in the Night

Pairing: Crow x Young Wolf Category: One-Shot Genre: Fluff, Angst? (yearning. just yearning.) Rating: 13+ Warnings: No major warnings apply Word Count: 1.9k Summary: Basking in the glow of your glorious light is enough.

she/they pronouns used for the Guardian. because this is basically faolan.

a/n: Did you know I write poetry? No? Well I do. And this is one of them. Sorry if this is a little disjointed. This is pure poetry.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

Crow thinks maybe this is enough. Maybe he'll be OK with just this, even if it kills him.

Even if he is desperately in love it's almost painful. 
There's something akin to suicide that comes from seeing the person that you love and adore, someone who saved your life and will put their life on the line to save yours and everyone else's day and day out, time and time again, and knowing how selfish it would be to tell them you love them. Knowing that they can't have that distraction right now, knowing that if they knew, and you got hurt they would never forgive themself.

There's something like being killed a thousand times over to yearning so much it's almost painful, craving nothing but being in their arms, wanting so desperately to hold them, to whisper sweet nothings in their ear and remind them that they're alive, and sometimes that's enough. 

Something similar to what he thinks being burned alive is like in wanting to make a home with them, give them a place to come back to after the battle, somewhere to let their eyes close, drop their head into your lap, and simply enjoy the sweet sensation of sharing the presence of someone you love.

It's such an unselfish love, driven by a desire to simply help. Let them be saved for once instead of the one being saved. Just wanting to give them a sense of peace.
But, he faces fire and lets it scald his heart, knowing that even a love so pure, so altruistic would be a death sentence where it shared right now.



A soldier who goes into the war with a lover waiting back home is a soldier who will fight and die and claw their way home to their lover's arms. 
But a soldier who finds them during the battle? Someone still so recklessly in love? That's a fool waiting to be slaughtered.




So, for now, he'll swallow his feelings, force his heart to stay still when the Guardian walks by, forces himself not to blush when they smile and wave, even if it feels like a dagger to the heart every time.

 He'll bite back every confession. Hold every "I love you", every "I adore you", every "I don't need you to love me back. I just need you to know that I'm here for you. I just need you to know that I love you and I care and thank you for saving me thank you for believing in me thank you for letting me be more than what I was thank you thank you I love you I love you I love you. "

Even if it feels like swallowing fire every time he digs his fingers into his palm to distract himself from how pretty they look when the starlight hits their hair. How their eyes sparkle in the firelight. How the Light dances off their skin when they wield it in combat.



Just being near them is enough. 

Just getting to bask in their glory.



It's like standing in the sunlight during a warm fall day. Loving her, is like... loving the sun. She is the sun. That's it, she's simply the sun. Something beautiful and infinite and endless and breathtaking in a way only something divine can be. Something deathly, incomprehensibly strong so gentle. Something you cannot live without, you need it.

The feeling of something so devastatingly incredible and cosmically powerful, and knowing it could never hurt you, knowing you are privileged enough to love it, even if you don't know if it could ever love you back.

There is a god before you. A god of death and destruction, armed with a million guns, with a smile like a thousand knives.
 And they are flipping one in the air because they want to impress you.



Blood and Light drip from her presence like ambrosia and honey from a goddess. She basks in the sunshine and smiles as she drives the knife into an enemy's chest. She is terrifying and she is deadly and she is lovely and she is wonderful, and he wants nothing more than to hold her close and call her his, but he cannot.

So for now he'll bask in the presence of the Young Wolf, knowing she could snap his fingers and decimate armies, knowing the hands that have held his so gently and guided him through hell have rended gods to ashes.

She could kill him in seconds, it wouldn't even be a struggle. But right now, she's teaching him how to spin a gun. She's so cavalier with it, so playful with death. She dances with it. And she holds her hands out to him once she releases the reaper from her grip. Her hands are so warm.


And she insists on teaching you the box step between deployments in an infinite war. 
Crow thinks maybe this is enough. He doesn't need her to love him back.


He just needs these small stolen moments for forever.




Her hands in his, pulling him close, eyes cast down to make sure he's following their steps.Her hands in front of his face, flipping a burning knife, a trick she learned to pass the time when she was the hunting monsters in the dark.Her hands around his, steadying his grip as teach him how to handle the Ace of Spades because "it's not a normal hand canon, trust me on that". He does. He trusts her with everything. It's when they're showing him how to use the Ace of Spades he realizes he's OK with them never telling him they love him back. He doesn't need that.

He just needs to memorize the way she tilts their arm up a bit when she goes to fire. A trick she learned to make the sights tilt down a bit and stay even when she's walking. He just needs to memorize the scars and dents on their gauntlets. She could never be bothered to buff them out. He just needs to memorize the grooves of their hands. The lifelines that may hint, in some strange cosmic way, at who they were before. He just needs to memorize the way they grow silent when analyzing a target. Intensely focused on the path of the bullet, the path to one less threat to her friends. He just needs to memorize the way her hair feels against his face, leaning in so close to ensure she can correct the way he's holding himself. He just needs to memorize the way she stands on her tip toes, even in the slight heels of a guardian's boots, so she can be at level with him. He just needs to memorize the words she breathed so quietly into his ear. "Don't move so much when you're aiming. You'll miss your shots if you tremble. Keep your head steady, don't flinch at the recoil, you aren't gonna get hurt by your own gun." He wasn't flinching because of the recoil. He just needs to memorize how real her voice was in that moment. The quiet tone, the genuine compassion, the sense of such profound emotion. The low husk, the almost musical cadence, the slight rasp from years of silence.

He just needs to memorize every part of her, how she makes him feel, and that's enough.



Maybe one day, he'll memorize how her hair feels beneath his hands. How her head feels on his shoulder. How she smiles into kisses. How she blushes when she's complimented. Maybe one day he'll know everything about her.



But for now, he'll just remember how she talks about her guns like they're people. How gently she handles that auto rifle she carries everywhere.

 He'll remember her voice in his ear, how softly she speaks when she's alone with him.



One day, he's sure, they'll have a life outside of the war.
 But for now, he's happy to see her hang the Ace next to that little sidearm she loves so much. He's happy to watch her grin at the sword hanging in her ship, the one that crackles like firelight with the Iron Banner sigil stamped in. He's happy to take that auto rifle, the Khvostov, from her hands, happy to learn to see the battlefield, the whole world, how she does.



He's happy to watch her fiddle with the neck of her cloak, play with the fur along the collar. Happy to watch her toss knives and shurikens into targets, watch her sharpen knives, and throw hit after hit into punching bags.



For now, he'll love her as a warrior. Maybe forever.



For now, maybe forever, he's happy to gently rouse her from where she falls asleep on the bench beside him, so tired from another mission she fell asleep still talking to him.

 One day, he'll be able to carry her to their bed instead. But for now, he's happy to just be in her presence.



He's happy to stand in the beams she casts off, as long as it means she's nearby.



His heart skips a bit when she tells him his eyes are pretty. He thinks it stops when she tells him they're the color of honey, so amber they're almost golden, noting the embers flecking in his eyes, from Solar Light, she explains.


If he died right then and there he would've lived a life fulfilled. 
He can barely think to say something back.
 Something about how she has nice eyes, too. Gray and blue with hints of gold, like the sky during a lightning storm.
 The purple twining around the iris, the Void seeping into her sight, revealing secrets about the world.



He thinks maybe she can see his soul like that.


He hopes in equal measure she can't, can't see the depths of his longing, his desperate yearning. But if she could… if she could peer into his heart, see how much he adores her, his unselfish, nearly puppyish love for her…That wouldn't be too bad.

Maybe if she could see that he needs her like the sun. That he loves her like the moon loves the sun, enough to stand in it's shadow, enough to reflect it's light. He loves her like a ship loves an anchor, enough to be useless without it. He loves her like cold loves fire, enough to let it pierce through every part of him and banish every part of him that is wrong or deadly, melting together so beautifully and perfectly to create something new.

To him, she is both sun and moon. He is a mere star, glimpsing sublime majesty from an infinite distance away. His heart begs her to let him see but a glimpse of her, ever closer. Praying she never casts him off, but that one day she will draw him in closer so he may delight in her light now and evermore. Oh, dear sun! Oh, glorious moon! Lovely and dearest, most fair, most sublime. To see her is more than enough. To simply be in her shadow is enough to delight in. For in her is glory, in her is Light itself. In her is life and joy, his life, his joy, held in her hands, though she does not know it. Arms length, nothing closer, is enough. He needs not a step more. Simply to see her is enough to bring him joy. Simply to hear her laugh, see a smile grace her lips, that is enough for now.

Maybe one day, he'll have the courage to say something about that.

I AM UNWELL. Also this was originally a ko-fi exclusive but I like it too much.

ao3: houseofmcallister main account: houseofmcallister buy me a coffee!

Don’t repost my work or I’ll eat your shoulder blades! I do not consent to my works being used for AI training purposes.

[thefangirlthatwaited]

Encounter (Chapter 166) - A Destiny Universe Story

Crow x Guardian

By the time my song ended, the twins were peacefully asleep. How I wished I was as oblivious as they were. To them, Crow was away on a mission and would be home soon. They didn’t know the dangers that stood in our way. I pulled my children close, closed my eyes, and tried my best to get a few hours of sleep.

“Ruby,” I turned away, the voice trying to pull me from my dream. “Ruby...”

“Crow...” I muttered.

“We’ll be together again,” Crow whispered, his voice filled with a love I yearned for. “I love you.” I desperately tried to reach out to him, but his voice faded away, leaving me lonely.

I woke up in a jolt, my body drenched in a cold sweat, my breath coming in ragged gasps. It was just a dream. Crow wasn’t here. “Mommy?” I turned to the sound of Rory and Ari’s voices, finding them quietly engrossed in their toys. 

“Mommy is fine,” I assured them. “Are you two hungry?”

“Pancakes?” Rory asked.

“Of course.” 

The next few days passed in the same way. The twins and I would sleep in the living room and spend the day together—anything to keep my mind occupied. The nights were another problem. After I sang the twins to sleep, I was left staring at the ceiling until exhaustion took hold. It wasn’t healthy, but it was all I could do to hold myself together in front of the twins.

“You need to speak to someone,” Stell said one evening while I was putting the twins to bed.

“And say what? Crow is gone, Stell and I can’t fall apart like I’ve done in the past. I have a family now.”

“And that’s very grown-up, but you can still talk to someone.”

I sighed. “Maybe. I’ve been hiding for a week. I’m amazed no one has come to check on me.” Stell refused to look me in the eye. “You’ve been relaying updates to the team.”

“I might have,” Stell admitted. “They don’t want to bug you.” 

“Thanks,” I fell onto the makeshift bed.

“Are you going to talk?” Stell asked.

“Probably. I need to gather the courage to do so.”

The following day was a rough one. Ari decided that he had enough of me and wanted Crow.

“Daddy!” He yelled while ripping apart boxes in the living room.

“Ari.” I hissed. “I’ll put you in timeout,” I warned. He huffed and tipped the box over, spilling its contents on the ground. “Ari!” He took off running for his room and slammed the door in my face before I could grab him.

“Fuck!” I growled, pounding my fist on the door while fighting back tears. Why did my son have to push my buttons? Didn’t he know I was barely holding it together? The doorbell rang, and I peeled myself away from Ari’s door.

“Want me to get it?” Stell offered.

“Please.”

While Stell greeted our guest, I tried to coax Ari from his room. “Little man, open the door.”

“No!”

I tried the doorknob again with no luck. “Ari, open the door this instant!”

“I WANT DADDY!” My head hit the door, and I wiped away a stray tear. This boy was going to drive me to an early grave.

“Need help?” I spun around to see Jolyon and Terna standing there with Stell.

Full Chapter on Ao3

[phantomwarrior12]

Anyone else arbitrarily think about the first time the YW saw Crow holding the Ace of Spades?

Like, they wanted to try out a new hand canon for once, just to try out these new perks everyone has been talking about. So they leave Ace in their apartment.

They come home after the mission only to see Crow holding it, clearly lost in thought and the reaction they have is visceral.

Flashbacks to Uldren in the Prison of Elders. That smirk when he brandished Ace before leaving. Every emotion they had in that moment when they realized Cayde was dying and his killer had evaded them.

They snatch the gun away only for Crow to look at them: rattled to his core, terrified of the look in their eyes until they come back to their senses and he flinches away.

And the only coherent sentence he can manage is: "I was only trying to help."

[cinisekha]

man they really do live rent free in my head