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insanity6666 · 10 hours ago

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BIG THANK TO @thevoidscreams for giving me permission to write a continuation of this fic aaaaaaaa I really love the concept and all <333333

Time passed differently now. The soul once woven from starstuff, once vast and adrift in the tides of the immaterium, now existed in a fragile shell of skin and sinew. Where once you drifted freely among dreams and warp-winds, now you sat, walked, breathed, trapped within the steady tick of Terran time.

The Emperor no longer visited every day. His time was taken with his sons now. His projects. His plans.

His Primarchs.

You felt them before you ever saw them. Bright motes in the distance of your perception, echoes of what once was born from the fragments of your joined soul. Twenty lights flickering across the surface of a darkened world. Their resonance sang to you, even through the walls of your chamber.

They were beautiful, each in their own way. Born of both of you, but shaped in his image. Your own touch, subtle and soft, still lingered within them, like moonlight caught in a pool of gold.

At times, you’d press your hand to the cold stone of the chamber walls and whisper to them, hoping some echo might reach them in dreams. My sons. My stars. I remember each of you before you were shaped into warriors.

But they never answered. Not directly.

They weren’t allowed to.

The chamber the Emperor gave you was deep beneath the palace. Few were permitted to enter. Golden-armored Custodians stood watch in silence. You had come to know some by the quiet rhythm of their thoughts, though they never spoke to you. The Emperor had forbidden it.

You begged to see them. The boys. The ones who had grown so tall and bright and strong.

“They deserve to know,” you whispered one evening, sitting cross-legged on the floor, your back against the polished obsidian of the wall.

The Emperor looked down at you as if weighing whether the request itself was a crime. “They do not need to know. It would distract them. We cannot afford that.”

“But I remember them. I know their lights. I gave of myself to create them.”

He touched your cheek then, with the hand that had both created and destroyed countless lives. “And that is why they must never know. You love them too much. That weakness could destroy everything I’ve built.”

Weakness. That’s what he called it.

But it didn’t stop you from loving them.

Some nights, you’d sense them walking the halls beyond the sealed doors. They never came to you, not fully. But occasionally, just for a flicker, the door would open, a mechanical misfire, or a moment of forgetfulness on the part of a Custodian, and in that fraction of a second, you’d see one of them.

A giant in armor. A golden god of war. Your child.

Each time it was a different one.

The first was Lorgar. His eyes caught yours as the door hissed open and closed in the span of a breath. Soft brown eyes with a questioning sadness, as if he already knew who you were. He hesitated for just a moment, then moved on, the door swallowing the space between you.

Another time it was Sanguinius. You felt your breath catch at the sight of him, wings folded, his face the spitting image of sorrowful grace. He looked back over his shoulder as if he could feel your gaze. He didn’t smile, but he didn’t frown either. That was somehow worse.

Once, when you were crying softly in the corner, you felt someone stop outside the door. Not move, not pace, just stop. You felt the pressure of their soul, enormous, ancient in its own way, trying to understand. You knew that presence. Magnus. You felt his curiosity clawing at the edges of your mind, gentle and yearning. But then he was gone. Like all the others.

They did not speak of you. Not aloud. But you knew they carried the echo of you within.

You began to dream again. Not the same as the dreaming you’d known before, when you were part of the warp itself, but dreams as humans knew them. Half-formed, blurred by emotion. Often you dreamed of your children gathered together, all of them sitting in a circle around you. Laughing. Listening. You were telling them stories. You always woke up crying.

Once, the Emperor came after you woke from such a dream. Your pillow was soaked.

“You’re hurting,” he said, as if observing a stranger’s affliction.

“Yes,” you said, voice quiet. “They were mine too.”

“I know,” he replied. “And that is why I must ask something difficult of you.”

You looked up at him, your expression hollow. “What more can I give?”

“I need you to stay hidden. Forever.”

That word shattered something in you. Forever.

“I can’t even speak to them? Not even one of them?”

“No.” He looked away, guilt not present, only determination. “It would endanger them. And you.”

“Then why did you let me live at all?”

He was silent for a long moment. Then: “Because I couldn’t bear to lose you again.”

It became a kind of haunting, your presence in the palace, known but never acknowledged. A myth among the Primarchs. A shadow that passed behind the Emperor’s throne in rare flickers. A soft sigh caught in the whir of the air filters. Some of them would see you from afar in their youth, and wonder.

Who is the woman the Emperor hides in the depths of the palace?

They dared not ask. The Emperor was a force beyond reproach, even for them.

And so they kept the secret between them.

Guilliman once caught a glimpse of you kneeling in a garden no one else seemed to use. He saw you touch the petals of a rose as though the flower was a miracle. He turned to ask, but the moment shattered, guards ushered him away. Later, he wrote of the encounter in his private log, calling you Mother

Jaghatai Khan, wandering through forbidden corridors by sheer will and disobedience, once found himself at the door to your room. He stood there for almost five minutes, unmoving. His hand reached out to the panel once. But he didn’t press it. Something stopped him. Not fear, but reverence.

Even Angron, in his moments of lucidity, felt a ghostly pang when walking past certain walls. He would grow quiet then, as if trying to remember a lullaby from a dream long since faded.

Each knew in their own way. But none dared voice it.

Except Horus.

The favored son.

He was the only one to look the Emperor in the eye and ask, “Who is she?”

The Emperor’s voice had been cold. “No one you need concern yourself with.”

But Horus had seen you. Just a flicker. A glimpse in the throne room, when your form was reflected in a golden mirror for the span of a breath. He never brought it up again. But from that day on, his light felt different when it passed near yours. Protective. Watchful.

You tried to reach out to him once, in a dream. You whispered his name: Horus.

He paused in the dream, as if he had heard it, but you dared not push further. You had been forbidden.

Your only solace was in the records. You learned how they lived. How they led. How they warred.

My sons, you thought, reading through the pages of their triumphs. Forged for conquest, but born of stars and silence.

You loved them. You always had.

The Emperor came less and less. He had his throne now. His great device. His final plans. Your usefulness to him was, for now, concluded.

But he had kept his promise. You would never be lost again. You were kept.

A star in a jar.

A mother in silence.

And sometimes, late at night, you felt one of them near. Their light would pass close to your chamber. Sometimes fast, like Rogal Dorn, walking with purpose. Sometimes slow, like Vulkan, pausing at your door, hand pressed gently against the cool metal, never pushing through.

None of them spoke.

But you knew.

And they did, too.

One day, maybe, one of them would be brave enough to say it out loud.

Mother.

But not yet.

Not yet.

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insanity6666 · 11 hours ago

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Hii can i request how the primarchs would react to making reader laugh for the first time???

Tyy<3

primarchs when you laugh because of them for the first time

i need to preface this by saying i'm not funny, so dont' expect the primarchs to be either. pre-heresy antics

your smitten primarch becomes even worse after you laugh ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈

lion: minutes into him trying to explain the importance of grip when you had a sword in your hands, something you mostly had ignored in favour of biting the inside of your bottom lip and nodding along sweetly with the gentlest smile, he’d made the beginnings of an innuendo that you’d not caught onto immediately. keeping your hand firm, gentle motions, you’d rezoned in at that point to try and understand exactly what he was trying to say it. he'd rambled on, but there was something about his delivery, how he continued like it hadn’t even occurred, that made you laugh. a little snicker at first, then something more. he'd stopped, almost immediately, blinking wordlessly at you with the slightest frown. you’re laughing at me, he’d grumble, not amused by your laughter. well, not until you told him you were laughing because of him. you’d just caught the slight blush over his cheeks as he turned away from you and cleared his throat to continue. he’d reference it again later, hoping to get a similar reaction.

fulgrim: he’d noticed you’d been quiet most of the evening, even with his attempts to wow you. call him lovesick, call him hopelessly in love with you; he’d do anything to see you smile. so when you’re sat beside him, watching him carefully as he explains a story to you in great detail, he catches you completely off guard by impersonating his sons’ voices with near-perfect accuracy. and when you respond with a giggle, leaning into him without really thinking about it, you make his entire year. his eyes shine brighter, his grin gets wider, and maybe his ego gets a bit bigger. you’re so cute when you laugh, he tells you, reaching for a loose piece of your hair, how do i make you laugh all the time, i wonder? of course he makes it his life’s mission to see you happy at all times, especially if he’s the direct cause of your laughter and happiness.

perty: company was never best placed with him, unless it was you. he could sit beside you for hours, watch you out the corner of his eye as you got on with whatever you needed to and accompanied his silence so beautifully. but this night he’d been so focused on what he was doing that he’d forgotten you were near him, subjected to his mumbled complaints over how the wires in his hands were far too small for him to work with and they were misbehaving as usual. his personification had got to you – just a smile at first as he spoke, then a laugh under your breath as you tried to continue with your own project. his eyes snapped to you immediately, his heart thumping in his chest as the sound replayed over and over in his head. the stare doesn’t cease for some time as he brings himself to accept what he was feeling; that was the moment he fell in love with you.

khan: you’d not been part of the conversation, but as you always did when you stood by his side, you were listening. some banter between him and his sons, it wasn’t even that funny, but he laughed, then continued laughing, and you’d tried to stifle the laugh at your lips so not to give yourself away from eavesdropping. but a slight sound, the littlest breath escaped your lips, and he’d turned directly to you. do that again, little one? his question is voiced as he steps towards you, taken back by your unexpected, shy gesture. he leans down to you and gently continues, so sweet, aren’t you? i think i need to hear that again. and of course, he doesn’t care if you were eavesdropping on any of his conversations, so long as he gets to hear that again.

leman: he was never quiet, especially not around you. but when he’d noticed your despondence when he spoke, how you barely seemed to pay attention, he didn’t take it personally. he offered you a place to rest, curled up on his chest, eyes heavy as he stroked your hair and wondered just how he’d been so easily tamed by someone so… soft. never being one for complete silence, he started telling you stories like he was around a fire with his sons, something ridiculously exaggerated from the depths of fenris and his childhood. he doesn’t even know what he’d said that got you, but when he felt you laugh on his chest, the soft vibrations as you curled into him, his smile could only widen. he swears you do it on purpose, make him fall for you even harder every time you do something new in front of him…

dorn: he’d been contemplating humouring you for a few days now. there were opportunities he could have said something intentionally bad to gauge your reaction, but it seemed like a risk to him. especially when one involved how structurally sound your bedroom would be with him. but when you’re walking beside him, a gentle silence between you both, he stops beside a poorly placed slab of concrete, and he tests the waters without any warning. an uncalculated risk (really it was nothing but he’s overthinking). i suppose that one was placed by my brother. you stop to look at him, pause for a moment, then chuckle before walking on. it didn’t matter to him; he’s practically beaming as he catches up to you. shall i make you laugh more often? like he needed permission – but you may regret saying yes when the jokes just seem to be more sleep-deprived rambles. regardless, in his lowest moments, it’s your laugh that replays in his head.

curze: sometimes his humour came always naturally, and he wouldn’t realise he was saying anything that might amuse you. so when he heard you laugh behind him as he read over reports that really didn’t matter to him, he stopped immediately, hand mid-page turn. he turns back to you with his brows pulled together, almost cracking when he sees the grin still on your face. he can’t even meet your eyes as he asks you, was that because… of me? though there was a touch of hesitancy before you nod, because sometimes with him it’s a guessing game of whether that was a good or bad thing, he hums and returns to what he was doing. it was nice, do it more. you wouldn’t need to be asked twice.

sanguinius: he lays beside you, his golden curls just brushing your cheeks from how close you are. he usually found a smile gracing his lips whenever he listened to you, completely simping enamoured by you. you’d been telling him a story, one that seemed to get more dramatic as you went on about something you’d seen years ago. it was one of those ‘you have to be there’ stories, but he still listened, fingers idly brushing against your hand, still infatuated as you reach the climax of your story and end up basically snorting at your own words. your hands immediately fly to your face, embarrassed. but he just laughs along with you, pulling your hands from your face so he can coax you to continue. why do you hide? he asks, warm laughter still in his voice. just makes me love you even more.

ferrus: he’d been hammering away when he’d stopped to inspect his work, not noticing you approaching. as he turned the metal between his fingers, he hummed, grumbling something about fulgrim’s poor interpretation of metallurgy, words not really registering with him as he focused more on the sword. but when he heard you laugh, it caught him completely off guard. he doesn’t even look at you as his cheeks become hot and he tries to bury himself in his work one more time, mumbling under his breath, that wasn’t meant to be funny. and it wasn’t, but he was cute. especially when he tried to hide his enchantment from how you’d reacted, peeking back at you from the corner of his eyes. your smile just made him even shier. are you trying to kill him?

angron: it was the first time he’d noticed you, actually. really noticed you. his humour, typically dry and unfiltered, wasn’t for everyone, but when he frankly explains that the past hour with an admiral could have been spared with one simple punch, you can’t resist the huff of laughter, and he catches it immediately. especially the way you try to hide the following laugh behind a cough and a stare down at the ground. he returns to what he was doing but only pays half attention to the conversations that followed. he thinks about it for days actually, every time coming back to the look in your eyes and the carefree sound. the logical conclusion? he’s in love with you. oh no. he’d taken blows that could kill him before, but somehow this was even worse.

rob: he’d huffed something as he sat down at his desk, just beginning to acknowledge everything else he had left to do that evening. it was about magnus, he thinks, that his powers would be beneficial to sign a few thousand documents without getting a papercut. when you found amusement in his words though, he looked up to you, watching as you tried to hide your face and recompose yourself in front of the primarch. his intrigue prevented him from looking away. awe, fascination – he’d felt it all in that moment. he wasn’t usually dramatic, but it felt like everything else around him faded, you were the only object of his affection – and always would be from that moment on.

morty: your hand just touched his as you laughed softly, head falling backwards as the grin widened on your lips. he just watched you, frown a little more prevalent. i didn’t mean to make you laugh, he tells you, nonchalantly, as though it was meant to convince him more than you. he didn’t think he was that amusing, especially complaining about the taste of disappointment, but you’d somehow found entertainment in it. his mouth feels a little drier as he tries to explain himself away, it wasn’t… there was nothing to indicate a joke. i do taste disappointment. when you laugh a little more, he maybe finds some humour in his words and lets his demeanour fall just a little.

magnus: he was always assured of everything he did, except when it came to you. he could have a whole audience bent over laughing and find pride in it, but when you burst out laughing from his comment on how his brothers are yet to understand what impulsive behaviour truly was, he was completely frozen. he’d not expected you to laugh, and he stutters over his own words as he stares, eyes wide. i didn’t mean… he pauses as he tightens his jaw to prevent his lip from trembling just a little, did i sound stupid? his heart thuds in his chest for a moment until you say no, a sigh of relief as he laughs a little himself. he’d never truly get over his underlying anxiety around you, even when you were married with kids – cause he wanted to be perfect for you always, of course.

horus: he’d been trying to make you laugh with poor excuses for dad jokes all night. every time he delivered one perfectly, then the final one he wanted to try, why did the picture go to prison? you’d looked up at him through your lashes, not flinching despite his obvious grin. he was framed. he laughs at himself, and you barely break a smile. didn’t help he’d been at it all night. oh, come on, he says, nudging your shoulder as if it would somehow make it funny, you know i’m hilarious. and as if all the times you wanted to laugh that night but didn’t, secretly enjoying his pathetically good attempts at it, you look away and exhale into a snort. you’d think he’d conquered the galaxy with how happy he is afterwards. worth every shameful moment, he tells you, cheeks almost hurting from his grin, same time tomorrow?

lorgar: humour wasn’t his thing. but somehow, as he’d run his hands over your body reverently, caught every nook and imperfectly and blessed them nonetheless, you’d laughed. gentle, shy, a reflection of your love as he told you that he’d accept the punishment of heresy for you. he wasn’t sure if it was a nervous reaction to his truth, but it didn’t matter – it showed him another piece of you that he could love with everything he had. his chest ached, his throat burned. he watched you, held you so carefully you’d think that without him, everything would be broken. but when he whispers against your temple later that he’d tear down worlds to hear that sound again? best believe it’s not a lie.

vulkan: he’d joked about actually being fireproof, a relatively harmless joke that wasn’t really that funny, but given how you were looking up at him with huge heart eyes, you would have laughed at anything he said. he watched curiously as you looked down to the ground, lip pulled between your lip as tried to stop the coy giggle behind it. he reaches for your chin, tilting your head back up towards him as he leans closer. don’t hide from me, he says, smile drawn onto his lips, i’d like to hear that more often. he hums as he presses a kiss to your cheek, that’s everything to me.

corvus: you’d been watching him carefully when he almost rolled his eyes and asserted that if everyone else learned to shut up, he’d have all the messes in his life sorted quicker (and therefore could spend more time with you). you’d laughed softly, looking away from him as you turned the laugh into a hum. when you look back, his eyes are wide, and you can’t help but laugh again. what did i do? he asks, suspicious of your amusement despite the way his pulse was racing. when you ask him not to look at you like that, all soft and wary, it somehow draws the shyness back in. he starts to smile, not meaning to glance down at your lips, but you’re the prettiest thing i’ve ever seen. your cheeks burn as you avoid his gaze. cutest, too, he adds, shifting closer to you, don’t think i could ever look away.

alpharius: his hand held onto yours like you’d slip away if he took even an ounce of attention away from you. i have a tracker for your happiness, he says, eyes bright as he admits a secret he probably should have kept to himself a little longer, you’re on a ten-day happiness streak. luckily you think it’s a joke, so he gets away with his real-time tracker being hidden another day, not that he was thinking about that after hearing your laugh. he can’t help the burn in his chest and the way his lips curl. i made you laugh? he’d have to start a tracker for that too. do it again. please? and he’s still holding your hand, not prepared to let go until you just do that one thing for him. please.

this was unnaturally soft for me... i've got to write yandere sanguinius now to balance it out. i hate the word snort. this is peak sunshine and rainbows in 40k type shit. why did i make ferrus soft and shy? who knows. he's cute.

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insanity6666 · 11 hours ago

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me every time I post something

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insanity6666 · 11 hours ago

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𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞 & 𝐑𝐞𝐝

"This one was supposed to come out right after the prologue, but I kept going in and out, switching things. Quite... boring, domestic recreation. Unless that is your style." - Ichor

Summary - "You’re set up with two practical boots. One was just grumpy and huge while the other was nervous and lean."

TW // None?

|°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°| {Prologue}

Mornings were either you can have a good crisp one with a cool, summer breeze or a really bad one where you just have to make it to work with no way of stopping for any foods and drinks, and you were lucky it was one of the quiet mornings. Non of that quick, rushing and panicking type stuff. Not to mention that you woke up at a good time and went to work on time that you had found a bit of your morning (after putting on your equipment on) for some coffee to put a boost into your day.

“Thanks Joe, you’re always open at the best times.” You sigh, going up on your tippy toes of your boots to gather the two coffees in disposable cups you had ordered from his trailer. The warmth of the cup giving you a slight burning sensation before it let up a bit.

“Ahh, you flatter me!” The older man: Joe, and the owner of the trailer waves his worn hand at you, dismissing you quickly. “I’m just serving the best cop here.”

“Now you’re flattering me!” You laugh softly at the male. Going back down from your toes to stand flat on your boots like a normal person. “I’m certainly not the best, but I do try.”

“Aww, come on. Don’t say that.” Joe clearly disagrees with you, leaning forward a bit where his head was out of the window of his truck. His brown eyes and black, balding head being shown in the morning sunlight. “You definitely have the guts to be one. I would not be able to handle drunks and the physicality of the people 24/7.”

“Ah, don’t pull yourself down either.” You sigh, preparing to head back to the new… problems you have acquired today from the Sargent. The bastard gave you two practical recruits, just one was a Space Marine. “I don’t like the idea of being in a food service.”

“It’s not that bad.” He shrugs before letting you go. Leaning back up to serve some other customers. “…Have a good day, Sarge!”

Walking your way back to the little group of yours. You hand one of the coffees to the new human boot you were assigned, sliding it over the table he sat at. A lean, young man with crew cut blond hair and hazel eyes that have a rim of green in them. A rather nervous thing too.

“T-thanks.” He stammers, shivering as a cool breeze of the morning washes over the group. His hand slowly grasping at the cup as if you would restrict him of it. You wonder how he even got passed in training…

“Mhm, we got a good start.” You nod, carefully taking a sip of your hot coffee. Your eyes glancing to the Space Marine to your left. The man was definitely older than what they would call their own boots, looks like he has experience, and is mighty gruff with it too. His dull, almost blind-like blue eyes looking down at you with narrowed look while his undercut blond hair is slicked back. His lips thin, fitting perfectly with his rectangle face shape, and a few scratches of scars near his lips to match.

Good, now you have a profile just in case this man wants to get rough. You were not going to deal with the supposed growliness. You have heard that he was a bit… unfriendly with people.

“So… what are we doing today?” The recruit continues after putting down his cup for a moment. His last name: Chambers on his vest showing off to your attention. His eyes looking you at you. At least keeping contact.

“The basics.” You shift your weight. Holding your own cup to your side. “Responding to calls, patrolling the area, investigations, and perhaps make an arrest. Enforcing the law.”

He nods at you, looking you over. Playing with his cup before wearily looking up at the Marine that gives a cold look of his own. Your own eyes trying not to roll. “W-what about him?”

“He’s going along with the ride.” You sigh, watching the two of them closely. Seeing how the Marine- er “Xerxes Rivera” lip twitch. “Well with the walk. Considering we need to get authorization to get a cruiser that’s big enough for him to fit in and drive. So, we are reduced to just walking around the main points of the small town: Black Hallows.”

The recruit nods at you again, picking back up his cup to take another sip. His eyes still on Xerxes before looking away with a blush. Embarrassed or not? You’re not one to pry too much on such matters. You’re just trying to do your job that you get paid for doing it well. You don’t like standing around too often just because of some potential drama.

“We got uhhh… supposed crazy lady on Dark Wood road at the “Epoch Antiques.””

Your radio suddenly chatters. Your form turning around to look down the same main road you’re on. Your eyes seeing some commotion in the distance as you can hear the recruit get up from his seat, ready to start the day. Your free hand coming up to the radio and responding. “10-4.”

“Already?” The recruit asks, rounding the table and leaning over to his side to put his cup in the trash as you do the same. Putting your own cup in the same trash. Xerxes is off to the side, shifting in his armor, ready to walk with the group.

“All day, everyday.” You sigh, putting your hands on the collar of your vest and turning towards where the distant, reported commotion was. The steps of the boot and Space Marine falling in behind you. The weight of the marine sending a slight vibration through the ground. One would think they would crack the concrete below them, but they seemed light on their feet. A rather spooky fact to think too much about.

Heading over to the commotion, you watch a bit as this proclaimed “crazy lady” or rather Mrs. Elwood seems more… frustrated than angry. Misunderstood perhaps. A saddening and common thing that’s been set upon the elderly people, but she seems… well, again, angry… at a male nurse?

“Right, recruit. How do we handle this situation?” You ask your boot, testing him of his knowledge in these circumstances. “Keep them together? Apart? Calm the situation?”

“Um, apart?” He answers a bit hesitantly, unsure of his own answer to give you. His fingers giving a twitch from his sides. “Don’t we calm them too?”

“We do.” You nod, continuing on to engage with the reported problem. Wanting to encourage the noobie, but he’ll need his confidence sooner or later. “Take Mrs. Elwood and I shall take this… other, unknown person.”

The boot nods, walking forward to greet the older woman while you head over to the white male nurse. You’re not sure what Xerxes would do, considering you never had an Astartes accompany you, and you know full well they are trained in ways that were more efficient in your own species. They may look human, but so does a skinwalker. So, you just let the towering man be for now. Positioning yourself to watch the nurse in front of you, and your boot. You got a job to do.

“What seems to be the problem?” You ask first, shifting your weight as you wait for the man to reply. “Baselines” you remember Xerxes calling you, and anyone that was more… human, or just smaller than him.

“This lady: Mrs. Elwood,” The man starts, a bit jittery. Is he faulting of something he did, or was he just having anxiety about what he had done? Or what happened? “I’m her nurse, so I know her on like… A nurse level, you know?”

“Yeah.” You nod, agreeing just to get more information out of him. Or when you just want a conversation to end, but you are listening.

“So, like, I see her quite a bit, right?” He continues, threading his hand through his short brown hair. Seemingly stressed. “And then suddenly she’s just… yelling at me, like I haven’t been caring for her after a few months.”

“After a few months?” You raise your brow, shifting your weight again. Having a mild guess of why her mood could switch up, and she a mostly friendly little gal of the town. “You look new here.”

“I- yeah. I am. A bit.” He stammers then pauses, making you wonder if this is his first time on the job, alone. Being alone in public or with another stranger could make one uneasy. “Just today doesn’t seem like my day. I um, I come from Elk Rise. Been transferred here.”

“Ah, Elk Rise. It’s another small town right?” You hum, remembering that rustic, cozy town. Living up to its name from having elk wandering about in the mountains to avoid the heat and bugs, and well. Those hooves animals liked to give birth up there.

“Yeah! Been there before?” He asks, looking pleased that you know of such town. His arms folding against his chest, more calm than before. Less stressed.

“Here and there with… family. Its very pretty up there when dusk or dawn arrives.” You nod again. A thing you just do automatically when listing to people, and agreeing. You do it a lot that you even notice it yourself afterward work. “I like how the sun and moon are barely casting their glow between the mountain peaks.”

“You make it sound as if its a fantasy land.” The young man jokes, scoffing playfully. Defiantly in a more better mood than what he was before.

“Eh, you’ll understand it once you get older.” You muse yourself, shaking your head slightly. “Now, do you have your ID on you? Or know your own name at least?”

“Right! Um, I’m Carson Harloe.” He perks up, most likely wanting to obey they law. His hand coming out to shake, and you take it. You hand grasping his with a nice, and rather polite shake.

“Well, Mr. Harloe. Have you been advised Mrs. Elwood has an Astartes of her own?” You ask him, tilting your head slightly. “She gets a bit… snappy you could say once he comes back.”

“What? No, I wasn’t aware.” Carson shakes his head. “I was just told to “deal with her.” The exact words from someone else of my job.”

“Hm, sounds like you’ve met Judy Welles.” You shift your weight. Not tired of standing just a bit restless. “She’s… known to not love her job but does it anyway. For some reason she has a bit of a quarrel with Mrs. Elwood. The 5’5”, dirty blond, green eyed woman, right?”

“Yeah! Seems like she's a grouchy person as well. I mean, when she was talking to me, demanding me. She did not sound like a good person.” The young nurse shifts his weight for a change.

“Yeah, this town is a bit full of Night Lords, but its rather peaceful besides the occasional break in report of a Night Lord staring at one while they sleep, and/or free, unwilling cuddles in bed.” You reflect on a quite amusing situation of this town. It wasn’t like it was owned by the Night Lord, but it was just really well known to have Night Lords around, and to be bonded to one, and believe it or not? This was one of the safest towns to be at.

“Wait, what?”

Well, perhaps its known within the town, not outside of it.

“Yeah, they mean no harm… Most of the time. Just be wise not to peeve off their bonded.” You wanted to give a huff of a laugh at his sudden realization, but you keep to your professionalism.

“B-But you just said Mrs. Elwood has one.” The man stammers, giving a quick point towards the woman that looked rather enamored with the new boot. The poor guy was getting his cheeks squished! For Xerxes? He looked like he was missile locking on everything in the area… Dose he even know how to greet the public properly?

“Yeah? Don’t be too worried about it.” Again, you shift your weight. Somewhat amused with his reaction. “These bat-like men can be rather reasonable too. It more of the World Eaters you have to watch out for. Nothing against them of course, but they have their reputation.”

“…So, your sure her Night Lord won’t launch me into the sky?” Carson asks. Hesitant for the real answer.

“At most, he would stare you down like how this Ultramarine: Xerxes is doing.” Your hand gestures over to the said blue Mairne. Who in turn looks over to you, giving you a suspicious glare. “See? Not that bad.”

“He looks like he’s going to…” He pauses, unsure of how to put his words but just says them anyway. “Like he’s going to kill you.”

“Yeah, I know. He’s been doing that since he wandered into this town.” A sigh leaves you. Another shake of your head acting out. “Though, he hasn’t done anything drastic, yet.”

A grumbled huff leaves the Ultramarine. His head twitching back as if he was offended by such a simple word. His gauntlets folding over his chest plate with a dull thud, glaring at you some more. Was this really just going to become his hobby? A long time thing? Glaring at you, and only you? You really hope not. You could ignore him, but you would honestly preferer it the other way around.

“So, like… do I need an restraining order or…?” Carson buts in, wanting a safe answer.

“Hmm?” You turn your attention back to him. “Oh, no, no. You don’t. Well, what did you do that got Mrs. Elwoods’ angry?”

“Nothing!” He exclaims lightly, throwing his arms out for a second. “I was just doing my job. Caring for for her, you know? Picking up a few things for her, giving her her meds and the company she deserves. Nothing so stupid that would have the law on me.”

You give him a look over, reading him of his truth: no averting eyes, no shaking form, he’s not sweaty either, and doesn’t smell intoxicated. He seems clean despite his worried look in those brown eyes of his. Seems more honest and devoted than Judy, at least.

“You can search me if you like!” He hold his hands up in surrender. “I have got nothing on me except medical stuff, if that counts-!”

The young man suddenly yelps, jumping up in the air and turning around to face the Night Lord behind him that has leaned down to his level to spook him a bit. His body nearly bumping into yours. “OH MY CHEEZITS!”

You give the man an amused look, looking between the two. Recognizing the Night Lord being Mrs. Elwoods. You have never caught the name of the Night Lord, but you can recognize the difference's he has with his other brethren. He had some sewed up… “fabric” you wanted to say for his “loin cloth” that he didn’t need for his armor protected him, but the particular color of the thread: bright pink, caught your attention. (No, you weren't looking at anything else.) Not only that, but he gave off a more… elderly aura. Smelled like he has a hint of- what do those old people use? Lavender? Hibiscus? Either way, he has a hint of that elderly smell on him.

“You might want the get used to that.” You muse, putting your gaze back onto the nurse. “But not too much.”

“This is what you people deal with?!” The nurse nearly hisses, but he’s more shocked? Surprised than anything. “24/7?!”

“Mhm, not 24/7, but it is a bit common.” You respond, shifting in your spot. Ready to leave this more… domestic situation behind, everything was- has calmed down with a simple talk. Even Mrs. Elwood with the way she was still cooing at the new boot. “Oh, and also? He’s going to be on you for a bit. Here and there.”

“…What?”

“Alright, boot! Xerxes! Let’s get a move on. We got more pressing reports to respond to!”

“@kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.”

“+@c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @marcela2000, @passionofthesith, @insanity6666.” - Tagged

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insanity6666 · 11 hours ago

Note

Hear me out, jealous Big Blue Berry. Say you were getting a new fitting done and then person doing it is just a bit too touchy? Finding things about your body that only he should know of like how small you are? Or how plump? How your curves are… He isn’t insecure he’s just… brooding. Only he does he want to know your secrets, in and out. :(

Author's note: Big angry blueberry <3 of course its titus lol Relationships: Titus/Fem!Reader Warnings: Jealously, Slightly lewd, Possessive behavior because astartes have an inability to judge normal attachment

"Do you do this often?"

Titus stands no more than ten or so feet away from you, looking down from a stance close to the entryway. His expression is neutral, but latent tiredness gives his eyes a hooded, lazy appearance. You smile at him from your somewhat stiff position.

"No, but a banquet with a primarch is a bit more noteworthy than my usual fare. My usual work doesn't require fancy dresses, so I'm a bit short on them."

Titus watches as one of the workers pulls at your arm, grabbing at you. You don't have your outer wear on, so it's just the flowing fabric of your blouse that covers your arms. His brow furrows when one reaches close to your shoulder, nearly brushing against the side of your chest.

He has held his tongue well this entire time, notably because you seem unbothered by what he would consider far beyond comfortable closeness; Though there is still a portion of his brain screaming for him to reach for his bolter.

You are under his charge at the moment, after all. To allow you to be harmed in any way would be a slack in his duties.

Though there are other reasons, more apparent when he watches one now brush down your clothes to measure your leg, effectively petting your thigh with a tender but firm almost caress.

He doesn't have his helmet on- it's maglocked to his thigh- so he needs to control his facial expression, pulling it inward and instead gritting his teeth. He feels them grind, muscles tensing at the seam of his armouring suit. He can hear the tension in his ears.

Astartes have an odd relationship with touch that Titus isn't entirely cognizant of. When he's being armoured, many people move to grab plates of ceramite to lock him in, but it's very formal. The way these other baselines touch you feels far more intimate, treading into territory he feels belongs to him.

He knows belongs to him.

You don't normally let others touch you this way, if one of the guardsmen or administratum in your stead did this, you would be fuming; You always keep a large breadth between yourself and others. He is aware the circumstances are perhaps different here, but it still enrages him. It isn't hard for his mind to travel from the normal protectiveness expected of his duty, into the obsession and possession of an enraged lover. After all, he has mingled the two together over the time he has known you.

Those hips are his to grab, your arm is his to pull. He is the only one allowed to touch you, to know your every contour. He can feel your body on his palms from memory alone, though the memory is admittedly not old in the slightest.

Titus had known he would be armoured tomorrow to escort you along with a myriad of other duties, and he chose eagerly to take advantage of what time he had left to feel your skin on his before a layer of ceramite was between.

Titus watches them shuffle around you like bugs and breathes harshly through his nose; Their head is far too close to your lower body, hands still firm on your legs as they travel downward. They've touched enough of you that even with clothes still securely on, Titus feels they've mapped out more of you than anyone other than him should ever know. The thought of that sends a rush of something to his brain.

"We're done, ma'am. It should be finished in a few days."

Your smile is gentle and kind when you step away from them, and Titus takes the opportunity to come closer. The heavy steps of his ceramite boots sound like they're going to crack the tile; The offending baseline quickly notices his approach.

He can smell the hesitation on them, as they shirk into their shoulders. Their pupils are like voids watching him, fully dilated. Titus doesn't wish for baselines to fear him, even if it is inevitable, but for a moment, he does relish in it. In the end it accomplishes what he wants; Getting other hands off of you.

"We should return now."

You look up to him, eyes wide before being ushered along.

You're done here. There's no reason to linger around.

His armor acts as a demonstrably large wall that quickly pushes between you and the other baselines, and you quickly move to shuffle out as to avoid getting caught up in his footsteps. Titus has an unstoppable stride, as to many astartes, so it's habitual to simply move out of their way or scurry faster.

You're so much smaller than him, he notices once again.

"I hope that wasn't too boring for your tastes," Your voice is quiet but not sheepish, just talking gently with him. "I imagine you're used to things that are a bit more stimulating."

Titus tenses up a bit upon hearing that word, as his brain misappropriates it for a moment. The idea of you doing anything of that sort with someone else infuriates him, and the idea that gets into his head next of someone else thinking of that makes his blood boil hotter. The idea of one of those baselines thinking about the way their hands groped at you... He consciously controls his tone to stay deadpan.

"I don't dislike the occasional in and out. After a few hundred years of battle, I can appreciate a moment of calm."

You smile at him, and Titus feels himself calm a bit. The muscles in his neck relax. You reach for his gauntlet and grasp it, hand able to wrap around only about two of his fingers. He can feel the ghost of your touch through his armour.

"Good. I imagine I'll need this done again in the future, if our Lord Guilliman continues this streak of politics."

Titus gives you a gentle smile that accents the wrinkles by his eyes, and dreadfully hopes that isn't the case.

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insanity6666 · 14 hours ago

Text

Welcome to the club!

Molten Hearts 1.5

An interlude before we get to the Big Guy himself.

After reaching your quarters to hide and process, a friend comes to your unexpected aid in an unexpected way.

Part 1

(Pardon if the link to the first one doesn't work I am still new to editing posts and the like)

Warnings, if any: There is alcohol, but they only get mildly drunk/buzzed.

You blinked up at the ceiling, as you had for the past hour, clutching your pillow, as you lay sprawled haphazardly upon your bed. You had stopped crying thirty minutes ago, and had gotten over the manic giggle fit around ten minutes back as the ridiculousness of the situation finally hit you.

You were proposed to.

By accident.

By Vulkan.

“Salt and Stars.” You groaned, shoving the pillow in your face to muffle the sound as it devolved into either a sob or hiccup or laugh or… something. You’re not quite sure. But it was dramatic, which you think you’re allowed to be, considering the circumstances.

How did this even happen? How did you end up married, technically, to a Primarch?

‘Oh fuck,’ You sit up, launching your pillow halfway across the room as you did, as you realise, ‘There had been witnesses. His sons had been right there!’

“Oh for fucksakes…!” You whined, diving into overdramatic cries as you buried your face in your hands. This was a diplomatic incident waiting to happen! What the hell were you supposed to do? How were you to explain this? To anyone? Vulkan, the bastard, doesn’t even realise the situation he’s put you in. Perfectly oblivious to the incident that’s primed like a bomb ready to go off at the slightest disturbance, and it had rested right upon your head all the way back to your quarters.

Another realisation.

Shit. Shit!

You had walked all the way to your quarters. While wearing the circlet. Oh shit. Oh fuck. Ohdeargodhadanyoneseenyou-

A hiss cut through your thoughts as a figure strutted through the doorway. Mitzi, another remembrancer recruited from your home planet, waltzed in carrying a bag no doubt laden with dubiously-acquired spoils. The shorter woman stopped dead at the sight of you, mid-panic, and announced plainly-

“Glad I got the good stuff.”

-Before she unceremoniously dumped the contents on the bed, making a show of all she had managed to get. You also spied a bottle of something familiar, and almost cried at the sight. It was the good stuff, too.

“I’ll get the glasses.” You say, even though you’re tempted to just drink from the bottle. However you just made a new set of drinking glasses and you figured you might as well use them now.

“Why get glasses when its already in glass?” Mitzi teased as she settled on the bed, arranging the pillows and settling in as she began to sort the food and drinks she had brought in. You quickly joined her, jumping on the bed and ruining her work to sort the packages by size and colour.

“I could make an argument for civility, but really if I take that bottle, you aren’t getting it back.” You joke with a sly smile, handing over a glass that had sections tinted so it looked like a salamander beast was weaving around the glass from within. A little on the nose, but it was mostly for practice and they turned out better than you expected. So you kept it as a personal set.

Mitzi blew a raspberry as she took the offered glass, and immediately set about pouring herself an unhealthy amount of alcohol, and handed the bottle to you. You also poured an unseemly amount of alcohol into your cup, and you both tapped the glasses together with a happy ‘cheers!’ before downing half your cups and descending upon the hapless snacks piled between you two.

Thankfully, as you both wiled your time away with good food and drink, your friend didn’t ask about what had put you in such a state when she walked in. Curious, most certainly, by the looks she kept giving you. She would ask, eventually, if you didn’t speak up, but she was kind enough to keep her curiosity in check at least for a while yet.

Something you were thankful for. It allowed you to ignore, and even forget a few times, the box sitting quietly on your desk somehow impossible not to notice, even when turned away from it.

You giggled into your cup, refilled and emptied twice, and would need a third refill soon. Mitzi was cackling as she recounted her time confusing a young Salamander when she explained darkrooms and why they’re needed to process light sensitive photos and pictures. He had been confused on how she did that, as baselines don’t have night-vision, and trying to explain the special red lights and why she can’t use night vision goggles.

“I’ll be back.” Mitzi muttered between giggles as she slipped off the bed and stumbled to your bathroom, cursing as she tripped over her own feet. You weren’t sure if it was from the alcohol or it was just clumsiness… or her legs were asleep, from the weird way she had been sitting… or lying. She wasn’t sure what position Mitzi had been in, but it didn’t look comfortable.

You closed your eyes as you finished off your drink, pleasantly buzzed and beginning to lean towards being drunk, especially if you kept going. Which you would, most likely. Enjoy this levity before you donned your armour and gear and went out to the battlefield with Mitzi and the others, to record the events and witness the deeds of those who fought to protect humanity and the Imperium.

You dataslate dinged, somewhere beneath the pillows, and it took a while to dig it out but you did. You smiled when you saw it was from Vulkan, and cradled your cheek with your palm as you braced the dataslate against one of the pillows.

Opening the message, you read the ‘The preparations are taking longer than expected. Unfortunately we will have to reschedule our plans. I’m sorry to make you wait.’ he had sent, disappointed but not surprised. You expected this, really, and probably shouldn’t have offered in the first place, but you wanted to give him a moment of reprieve. He worked so hard, and always seemed to be doing something, never resting. Never making time for himself. Granted, you don’t know the truth of that, as you don’t spend all your time with him. But you would like to give him that, to carve out time to let him relax, to not be a Primarch or Warlord. Just Vulkan. A father. A friend.

You type a quick reply, assuring him that there was no need for apologies and that now you have something to look forward to after the battle. A reminder to rest, and to be safe, you added on impulse that was probably aided by the alcohol running through your veins.

As you send it before you can think better of it, you hear the door to your bathroom hiss open and close. You’re staring at the screen when you hear Mitzi’s curious coo, and the click of a latch being undone. You realise too late what is happening, and the warmth in your blood and haziness in your head turns to ice-cold clarity with the bolt of panic when you hear:

“What the fuck.”

Flinging yourself into a sitting position, you see Mitzi -the fucking sticky beak that she is- holding the box contraining the cause of your crisis. She is staring at it with a blank, if bewildered, expression. As though she cannot comprehend what she is looking at. You understand the feeling, but right now you just feel annoyed and panicked as you stand.

Walking over, you quickly snap the lid shut and lift the box from your friends hands, and place it back on the desk.

Back to reality, then.

Turning to face the music, you are instead faced with your friends scream of “What the fuck is that?” that was hopefully muffled by the walls of your quarters.

“A circlet.” You state, suddenly feeling petulant. Your irritation at your friend's inability to keep her hands to herself makes your tone more snappish than you meant.

“Yeah, no shit.” Mitzi snarled, more incredulous than anything. “Who proposed? When? Why didn’t you say anything?” Her tone turned more to hurt, no doubt thinking you had been keeping secrets about your relationship status.

“Nobody-” You try, stop, and try again, “It’s not- Salt and Stars! It’s not what it looks like.” You grab Mitzi’s hands with your own, squeezing them. “You know that if I was with anyone, you would be the first to know. If you don’t find out first because you’re a terrible snoop, I would tell you before anyone else.” You speak with all the conviction you can muster, which seems to be enough as Mitzi’s hackles lower as she listens.

“Honey, that is a marriage circlet. How is that not a proposal? Or…” she looks down at the box, eyes suddenly suspicious and slightly panicked, “It wasn’t a proposal? Are you married?”

“No.” You say immediately, but you pause as you remember the events. “Maybe…?” You sigh, closing your eyes. “It’s complicated.”

“How?” Mitzi tsk’s before shaking her head slightly, “More importantly. Who?” She presses, eyes focused on you with the same kind of intensity she gets with her craft.

“Vulkan.” You admit easily, knowing that Mitzi would rather face the cold void of space than share a secret between you two. You would do the same.

Mitzi blinked.

And blinked again.

“Vulkan.” Her question is more a statement, but you nod anyway. “Vulkan proposed to you.”

“No. He didn’t.” You say, already exhausted by this conversation.

“He gave you the circlet. You accepted. You’re married.”

“No, Mitzi.” You sigh, releasing her hands to cover your face with your own. “We’re not.”

“How come? Don’t tell me it’s some stupid ‘symbolic’ thing where he’s not committed to you, because if it is I’m going to have to go into hiding after I kill-”

“Mitzi! Don’t even joke about that!” “I’m not.”

Both warmed and concerned by Mitzi’s loyalty, and ease in admitting she would so readily try to kill a nigh-immortal giant, you try to steer the conversation away from treason.

“Regardless. That wasn’t his intent. Nor was marriage.”

“How could that be anything but intent for marriage?”

“He’s Nocturnean, Mitzi.” You try, gently, to lead your friend down the right trail of thought.

“Yes?”

“He’s not from our planet.” You push.

“And?” Mitzi snapped, crossing her arms. You raise your head enough to level her with a look.

“He’s not from our culture.” You try again. Shoving this time. Hoping she gets the point.

“Oh, by the Skies, you care about that?”

…

‘Mitzi you dumbass’, you think as you grab your friend by the shoulders. “Our ways are not his, Mitzi. He doesn’t know what it means.”

The silence that followed was empty and heavy as your friend processed.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, shit.”

“I know.”

“You’re fucked.”

“I know.”

“Are you going to tell him?” She asked, which was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? You groan as you rub at your temples, eyes lingering on the box that held the exquisite circlet.

“I have to.” You say quietly. “He’s going to find out sooner or later. Better that it comes from me.”

“But…?” Mitzi presses gently, knowing there's more to it.

“I love him.” You admit. “I really, really do. I didn’t expect it, certainly not with a Primarch, and I was happy to just admire him from afar, to be his friend. Then he gives me this, oblivious as you please and he looked so sad when I froze, but then he looked so happy when I accepted and what else could I do? His sons were there and I know I should have spoken up but I panicked and then he put it on my head and I tried not to say the words but they kind of slipped out but they weren’t the exact words, and I know I have to tell him but we're about to enter a warzone and I can’t talk to him about this right now because it could distract him, but more than that what if he gets mad? What if he thinks I’m trying to trap him or that I lied to him? What if he doesn’t want to be friends anymore? What-”

A hand covers your mouth, and you blink at your friend as she stares at you with wide eyes.

“Okay. I see why you were… in a state, before.” Mitzi starts slowly, because admittedly she’s not on this side of the equation. Normally, you are the one acting as the voice of reason in their duo. “From what I know of his character, Vulkan wouldn’t react like that. If anything, he’d probably feel bad for putting you in that situation. You’re assuming the worst possible outcomes, honey, and I feel like that’s unfair to both of you.” She says, lowering her hand and looking at you carefully. Her eyes tell you she’s weighing her next words.

“What if… he doesn’t mind? Sure, maybe embarrassed and apologetic, but not upset. What if, after you explain it, he’s fine with it? What if it’s the opposite of all your fears? You can just return the circlet” You both cringe at the words, uncomfortable, “and after an adjustment period you can go back to being friends like normal. Or… as normal as you two get.”

“As someone who is also my friend, I feel like that says something about you as well.”

“Oh, I know I’m weird. I also know you're deflecting.”

You grumble, annoyed that your friend knows you so well. However, she does have a point. All you have to do is get a moment alone with him, explain everything, and… give back the circlet.

It shouldn’t hurt that much just thinking about it. It was just a gift. Nothing more.

It can’t be anything more.

“Come on. Let’s get drunk and eat our way into a food coma. Then in the morning, we’ll help with the preparations. Then, war. And then, you find your moment with him.” The way Mitzi said ‘find your moment with him’, you can’t help but feel like she’s not just talking about explaining the situation.

However, the lure of soothing your pending heartbreak -and your nerves for the upcoming battle- was too strong for you to think more on it. Instead you went straight back to your spot, and decided to forgo your glass and just chug it straight from the bottle like an uncultured heathen.

The future is uncertain, and you will face this trial eventually, but you feel lighter now that you have spoken your troubles, and more prepared with Mitzi’s guidance. Tomorrow will come with duties and dangers, but tonight you enjoy the simple revelry of good food, good drink, and good company.

***

@incrediblethirst, @kit-williams, @beckyninja, @bleedingichorhearts, @jaghatai-khock, @pluvio-tea, @moodymisty, @thethronezone, @iluminatka16 Hope you enjoyed the Interlude! Hope you're ready because I'm not! Up next up is Vulkan's POV, so we'll see how well we do. I make no promises, beyond the fact it will be adorable (probably).

Until next time!

(Also if anyone does or does not want to be tagged pls let me know.)

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