#Horus Oc

[ltmctrung]

it is a time of legend. And overpriced alcohol

[ardentinwoe]

To Dust

[grellskendyr]

two spehss mehreens and their weird dog have been living in my head rent free and i haven't managed to draw anything serious of any of them

[mehiwilldoitlater]

If you don't mind!! May i ask of primarch x gn! Sfw please! Reader who's a hopeless romantic and very in love with their husband, like they are literally cry and the primarch are like "Why are you crying?!?" And their lover response "You're too beautiful", or always give them gifts and yell "I LOVE YOU MY MAJESTIC GLORUIS KING!", And look at the primarch with eyes full of love even if they are getting yelled at/scolded.

kinda smut towards Angron and some slightly here and there but nothing too fancy

Lion 'El'Jonson:

"You need to tend it higher…higher… Do you understand a word I am saying?"

You just mumbled, feeling the stretching of the wood in your hands and the pressure of the string in the other one. Before you could even try to get a good shot, the arrow slooowly started to move away, away from the bow. You tried again to fix it, only for it to stray again from your hand.

"You're supposed to shoot upward, not to the side, little one!"

Luthar's voice echoed through the courtyard, followed by a few laughs from the other knights. A simple look from Lion was enough to shut everyone else up, but the damage was already done, because now you had lost the grip on the bow, the arrow now angling away from your hands.

"Don't listen to them. We'll try until you've hit the target."

Now it was his own mission. Yet, it seemed harder than it looked when the arrow, once again, instead of flying in a straight line, chose to end on the side of the target.

"…you didn't tell me about this sudden interest of yours."

"I wanted to follow you on the hunt." He suddenly stopped in his tracks, looking at you like a madman. "In the forest!"

"You won't put a foot in these forests." He said sternly, making you lose a few inches of height, "You know how dangerous you are. I hunt those beasts because I can."

"But I want to make a gift for you too!"

He raised his eyebrow, confused.

"You gift me a pelt every time. I want to make you a proper one too! So we can match! Or stay warm in the winters together! To show you I care!"

Damn…he knew you cared, dammit, he always does! He sighed, feeling his giant heart lose a beat. You stood there, a small smile on that damn cute face, and...he just oated you.

"Let's focus…on the shot for now."

Fulgrim:

The soft light of the candle could only illuminate a small portion of the room, enough for your eyes to see. The only sounds were the sweet whistle of wind outside the windows, the shift of the silk curtains, and the small scraps of the carbon in the paper.

The small sound of the bread on the paper made the primarch shift in the covers; the flame made his long lashes flutter. His hand met his face, scratching his eyelids, sighing from exhaustion.

"Y/n?"

"Sh sh sh," you tried to move away his hands from his face, "go back to sleep."

He gently moved away your hand, rising on his elbow to take a good look at the time.

"We're in the middle of the night. What are you doing?"

"I'm drawing you."

"…now?" He was able to take away from your grip the notebook, leaving you with the carbon still scratching the nothingness.

"My love, you could have waited until tomorrow. I would have prepared myself."

"But you were so beautiful like this!"

"In my nightrobes, disheveled and snoring?"

"Of course! On your natural, you're far more entrancing than all prepped up!"

He sighed, admiring your artwork. He wished he could have been able to see himself in your eyes, seeing the beauty in the imperfections…

You tried to grasp back your notebook, but it had already been posed on his nightstand, and he took the chance to grab you and hold you in his arms.

"I need to finish it!"

"No, I need to sleep, and you too… or I'll give you another reason to stay awake."

You giggled, giving him a full dose of kisses on his neck—it wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Perturabo:

"And what does this do?!"

"This—" he pulled the lever, and one of the many statues near the marble basin slowly started to move. The girl made of stone slowly poured the contents of the vase in her arms; hot water flowed from it in a stream of vapor.

You wowed, then giggled in pure joy. The view was enough for your husband to sigh in satisfaction, completely ignoring the previous harsh comments of his men about gifting a stupid private house to his consort.

"This is beautiful, pretty!!! AMAZING! You're the best! Can we use it?!"

"It is yours to do as you pl-WAIT!"

He had to hold you, and while he did, he saw part of your garments falling down.

"Uh? Don't you want to use it with me?"

"Of course I want it, but at least change in the side room!"

"But the water is warm now! Come on, I saw you naked dozens of times!"

"It won't get cold! Don't you push—AH!"

And he tested the waters himself after a small struggle with you ended up with both of you falling in the water. After emerging, he grumbled, looking at your sweet smile on your face.

"…Satisfied?"

"You're so pretty when you're half naked!"

"You little—"

He started to splash you, and even if his tunic and his staff were completely wet, he would forgive you again, and he would start to think of a new present for you.

Jaghatai Khan:

The roaring of the engine echoed around him.

No one talked; no one needed to. Only the sound of metal and the imnh around him reminded him where he was and of his duty.

The smell of gunpowder, the leather of their bike, the fresh fuel that was ready to burn. Battlefield ahead, a new siege, a new battle to take before more casualties could happen.

Jaghatai was never someone that turned around against danger; he was ready to go straight ahead, like every time. He was the wind, and his sons were the storm, ready to strike to leave nothing behind. He left every doubt, question, and worry behind, or at least that was what he thought.

He closed his eyes, a picture in his mind. Away to his world, where seas of grass go for miles without end. Your worried face begging him to be safe, to at least try for him. Your hand grasped the same small object that he now holds closer to his heart. He takes the chance to take it out, to glance at it.

The small twig is adorned with small white flowers; the fresh smell contrasted with the suffocating smell of oils and Astartes around him. The knot of the red string frees the paper around the sprig; his fingers gently unfold it to read again the few words on it. He knew what was written there; he just wanted to read it again, to feel where you cried and smell what was left of you on it.

As for the flower, its duty is to bloom and wither; yours is to fight to win.

But the robin does not cry over the loss of the flower.

And I would not feast on a fruit from death.

He would not die; it was impossible to kill him, and yet you loved him enough to worry and to weep at a demon that, sometimes, he worried could come.

He put back the twig on his heart; the signal echoed from the sirens.

He promised to return to you, and he wants to do it as fast as he can.

Leman Russ:

He jugged another gulp from his pint, a few droplets of the alcohol drenching his beard that he cleaned with part of his arm. A few laughs that seemed more like barking came from his mouth while the story of one of his captains came to its end, concluding with him running away naked in a snowstorm.

Outside, the snow fell placidly in the land of Fenris, the wolf king and his sons enjoying one of those moments of peace to enjoy the fire, the food, and some good ale, forgetting for once the crusade and the outside, enjoying the moment.

Bjorn's attention fell on the main door, gesturing then to his own father.

"The rabbit had come out from his den!"

Leman didn't need to guess but still wanted to see, with an inch of surprise, your smaller figure searching for something around the hall. So little, so fragile, and with your more demure nature, you were really a rabbit among these wolves.

Once you spotted him, you started to move around the tables and the men, a few of them getting the chance to grab you in some intoxicated state or just jocking about finally having the legion consort share a night with them. You weren't that fond of these festivities, making the event quite interesting.

Once you breached the table, you were already closer to your consort, his hand grabbing you and posing you on his lap like some kind of puppy.

"Well, if it is not a surprise! Are you finally ready to share with us a story of yours, little one?"

Your big eyes met his own, still curious with that canine grin on his face. You started to rise from your seat, your hands around his neck. He felt a shiver of panic, remembering that you never were that kind of bold… Then you just let it go, leaving him there, confused and bashful. You now have a smaller smirk on your face.

"Do you like it?"

He looked at you… then at his neck.

He didn't notice before, but now, adorning his neck, a wooden pendant stood there, an intricate design of a tree and a wolf head on its base. Quite big for a baseline, but for a primarch? Quite the fancy one, at least for him.

He even noticed only now the bandages around your poor hands, wondering how much making it must have been a painful process.

"…I…yes?"

"GREAT!" And suddenly, your lips touched the side of his own, between his mouth and his cheek, only to jump out from his lap and return to where you came from.

After a few moments of silence, the table erupted in a roaring laugh.

Rogal Dorn:

The Praetorian didn't need to ask to know who those small knocks at his door belonged to.

"Enter." It came with a low and exhausted groan, focused on some blueprints that needed to be fixed. He wondered what was the illness that took whoever decided to make that design.

He noticed your head slowly coming from the door, clearly still wondering if you should really enter the room. Maybe it wasn't a good time, but you took so much effort into finding it!

He looked back at the door, waiting for you to come in; the signal was his quill spilling into the bottle on the side of the papers. Your feet waddle closer to him, your face painted with an excited grin and that shine in your eyes that he knows so much about.

"Well?"

"I have a present for you!"

"Can it wait until tonight?"

"I need you awake for it! Here!"

With a sound, you posed on the desk what was supposed to be a rock. No, it was definitely a rock. It had an egg shape, which was curious, and by the look of its material, it seemed to be of magmatic origin, maybe from the last moon that the Phalanx had observed. It was full of vulcanic activities, except for a small portion that seemed capable to being used to construct.

"This, my dear husband…is you."

His face made that kind of frown that made you laugh.

"Crack it open!"

"Uh?"

"Come on! So you can go back to work!"

He sighed. First you brought him a rock, and now you ask him to break it. You were always a curious one, he thought while using his bare hands to open the crude rock like it was bread, but he wondered what kind of new trick you were planning now!

A small crack—he recognized the sound of an empty object. His thumbs and fingers met something rough, then something smooth and pointy. A single push, and suddenly a plethora of blue and white met his eyes. You giggled, clearly satisfied with his expression of awe and surprise.

"…A geode?"

"YES! It is you, Rogal! Rough on the outside, but a treasure inside! I took so much to find one, and the volcanic moon was just so perfect! You told me once, remember? About magma, bubbles, and—"

His two fingers took you face, and suddenly his kiss shutted you up for good.

He liked it!

Konrad Curze:

Some would say that he had the eyes of a predator; others said that he had nothing to show in those empty pools of darkness.

Your eyes reflect on his own; it's hard to see, but you're sure that, with some proper light, you would be able to see yourself in there. Your back pressed to your bed, one of the few that actually look like one on the Nightfall, so small compared to the massive size of the demi-god above you, yet so small for you. His raven hair tickled your cheeks, his teeth bared like fangs, ready to snap at every chance.

He had seen it again, that damn image, the one that had plagued him since he had met you, a small creature whose life could be just snuffed out like a candle. You both knew that, especially the creature that was now looming over you.

He hated you from the bottom of his soul; he hated how much light you could create, and he hated the fact that your existence became the compass of his mind. He wanted to get rid of you, liberate himself of the burden of having you around, and yet he wanted to keep you away from the creatures that he called sons, closer to what he called heart.

"Why?"

His ragged voice was very close in shape with his hands, talons long and sharp that could rip off your head from your neck. His long and slender finger slowly started to embrace your neck, like the spires of some snake, ready to grip just a little more.

"Why do you keep doing it? Why the only thing I see is your…"

Love?

"… I could just kill you, you know?" He smiled, your expression still glued on him. "I could just get rid of you… No one will know, no one will care… That would fix it; I would be free from those images…"

He pulled away his hands, his face inches from your face, his breath moving a few stray hairs from your face away.

"So tell me…why?"

Then, your hands… Your hands reached his face, caressing with your thumbs the cuts, the wrinkles, and the imperfections. Then you rose until your soft lips met his jagged ones in a kiss that he could receive from nothing but an angel. And then you smiled, softly whispering.

"Because I love you…."

Others say that his eyes are the pure darkness of the night, and to you, they are the saddest eyes you ever met.

Sanguinius:

He tried to look away; the view only made him hungrier and thirstier. He tried to convince you to not do it, that it was not necessary, that he could not let you do it on your own for his own sake, and yet you were both there now.

His wings moved, almost in anticipation, looking at your small figure sitting there, on that armchair, while you meticulously secured your arm with the leather strip.

"We can…we can wait," he gasped like a fish. "You don't have to do it. I really wish you didn't…"

His voice betrayed him, and you knew that. You just smiled it off, preparing your arm for the needle. He gasped again; from outside, someone would have believed that you were consuming the most sacrilegious act, which it was in his own eyes.

You were sacred to him, the most pure and precious treasure that the stars had gifted him. He tried to hide his thirst at the beginning, fearing your rejection of him. Instead, you proposed something else…

When the small needle enters your arm, you hold your breath. Slowly, the red flow from it entered the tube, ending inside a glass made for the occasion.

His eyes looked at the liquid, slowly entering the glass, like a nectar made from the best grapes. Then his attention was on you, your face contorted in a small expression of pain, your eyes closed shut, your feet thundering on the ground trying not to flinch. Your free arm slightly trembled, fighting the urge to pull away and free yourself, but you still stood.

His face changed, an expression of pure affection painted his eyes, and so his lips slowly caressed your eyelids, and his gentle hands caressed yours, trying to soothe the pain. You sighed, feeling the shadow of his wings engulfing you.

"You're doing great, my love…"

Ferrus Manus:

"Ummm…"

"… I should go back; my sons will wonder where I am…"

And yet he still obliged you. He wanted to smack himself for his hypocrisy, talking about perfection and duty and then allowing his own little consort to indulge in their own small activities with him. Not like he did not like them, but it wasn't like his forge could just work itself.

He held you on his lap, one arm around your torso and the other in your own small hands, examining it in every detail and texture. You had always been fascinated by his hands, always taking a good time to observe them and tracing his veins and tendons with your smaller fingers.

To him it was a chance to hold you, feeling the heat radiating from your small body and hands, allowing you to admire, like you could admire something like that, his necrodermis. He had always known about your fascination for them, never believed that it could be the reason that he would ever find a consort in some way, and every time he voiced his own doubt, you were there with another answer. This time, you raised his hand against the light, admiring the reflection and the colors moving between the parts, holographic effects radiating from his wrist to his elbow. You looked surprised.

"Your arms are amazing, Ferrus! You have the rainbow in it!"

He sighed, then his entire weight started to slowly engulf you in a goofy and suffocating hug, one that made you squeal with laughter.

Angron:

His hips kept on pounding even after his release. Your own followed him not too much later, reducing you to a moany mess, with tears in your eyes and your mouth half open, taking every breath you could.

Your voice called him from his trance, trying to get him back, while he kept on moving, like he had completely forgotten where he was and what was happening. The pain from the nails and the pleasure mixed together in a strange potion, your pleasure started to drench him like a drug that he could take. It helped, it was helping, he was at peace, there was—

"A-Ang… i-it … It starts to-to hurt!"

Suddenly something snaps. Your trembling voice, your hands that try to push him, your eyes that desperately are trying to get him back to the moment, to you. He recoils his hands from your hips, seeing the purple sign of his fingers, and the scratch of his fingernails made his eyes open wide.

He tried to say something, an apology, to explain, but then fear came, and with fear came the pain again. His teeth start to grind, and feeling blood moistening his mouth and tongue, he pulls away quickly, trying to move away, to get out of your room and find solace somewhere else, where he can't hurt you.

But then he felt it again, your soft touch on him, on the nails, a soft caress that followed his tormented head to his contracted neck, soft kisses following the scars on his face, and a gentle hum coming from your voice. You don't have to use force; you just need to guide him to your chest, allowing your heart to beat in his ears, trying to remind him that you're there, you're not in pain anymore, he doesn't need to do anything, just let you.

He sighs and closes his eyes. He's at peace for now.

Roboute Guilliman:

The smell is the first thing that catches his attention. Sweet, a scent of cinnamon...maybe honey?

Then he noticed the small plate on his desk and then your loving gaze closer to the edge, almost like expecting his approval. He looked at you, then at the plate, then back at you, like he was trying to acknowledge the situation.

"I thought you needed to recharge a little, my lord. Here" then, the smell of sweet mint engulfed his nostrils; a steamy cup was now near to the plate, leaving your hands"this is for wash your mouth."

He looked at the two quite mouthwatering products, debating whether to leave everything and just indulge himself or at least wait for you to leave the room.

"It...smells quite good. The serfs must have outdone themselves…"

"Oh, I did it myself, my lord!" You smiled sweetly, looking at his quite shocked face. "I wanted to do something for you!"

"I…I didn't know you…could cook." He said, almost feeling bad for mistakingly taking your own hard work for someone else's doing.

"We were taught basic skills back at home." You said calmly, quite unaffected by his own stressed face, "This one is quite easy; please eat it while it is hot. And do not overwork yourself!"

He looked at the door closing behind you, leaving him alone…with the small pastry and the tea. When you returned, everything was empty, his face satisfied, and your small heart bigger.

Mortarion:

"Didn't I tell you?! Not once but several times?!"

His voice roared, alongside a few strong coughs from his lungs, from you. You held strongly in your hand the ventilator on your voice, coughing softly a few times while you rested on the bed. Your arms are covered in bandages and ointments from the burns on your skin, the smell of chemicals still on your robes.

When you woke up, he was already there, fuming with rage, worry, and fear.

"The labs are not for you! YOU SHOULD STAY SOMEWHERE SAFER! The library! The decks… WHEREVER BUT THERE!"

"I just—"

"Do not try to find excuses! Look at yourself, you managed to avoid killing yourself because you weren't too close to the vials! How do you think I felt when I heard you were injured!?"

He roared again, and now your small cough was mixed with hiccups. He kept on talking and talking, more yelling than talking, and he stopped only because he didn't have enough air to scream a little more. You sniffed, cleaning your face with your hand, trying to talk between the interruptions of your voice.

"I… I-I just wa-wanted to…make y-you something f-for your v-voice…"

He looked at you, folding his arms on his chest.

"I SNIFF found this substance...it se-seemed easy...to hel-help your v-voice...… I-I didn't know that it w-would…"

You tried to finish, but you only started to cry harder. His eyes started to soften a little, his arms untangled themselves and decided instead to rest around you, and a small tremor came from them. It was him? It was you?

"Don't do that again… I'm sorry I yelled, but don't do that again…"

You kept on crying, holding him closer, still coughing.

Magnus the Red:

"- With this sentence, the poets gave a structured idea of his intention towards the audience of how reading the poems creates what is supposed to be... dear?"

You stayed there, your face posed on your arms, your eyes only visible over them. The table gave you support for your torso while sitting close to it. You raised your head a little, a sound of surprise from you.

"Eh? Yes?"

Magnus looked at you for a second, tilting his head to a side, still holding the book.

"Did you understand what I was reading?"

"…I may…miss a few passage……"

"…From where to where?"

You started to scratch with embarrassment the starting page of today's session. The book was closed with a strong thud. He lowered himself, trying to get closer to your level, a hard task for his own height.

"May I know the cause of your distraction?"

"…I noticed that you're the most charming creature when you talk and explain stuff to me…." You said while raising your face, Now your hands are holding its weight on your palms. If it were possible, you would have some heart-shaped pupils in your eyes.

Magnus sighed again, more annoyed, with a hint of darkness in his tone. This wasn't the first time you've done this, and he feared it would not be the last.

"I thought you wanted to learn…"

"Hard task with the most beautiful husband trying to do it!"

"Um…you got a point…"

"Eh!"

"I'll ask Ahriman to replace me on the task."

"NOOOO EVIL HUSBAND!"

Horus:

You kept on looking at him; the curtains of the bed created a secret hole for you and your husband against the world. The covers rose a little while he regained his breath, your skin still glittering after your consummated union.

You admired the stretching of his muscles while he breathed, the way his nose made that peculiar sound, an old punch maybe, how the tension finally started to get out from his body and mind, and how his skin seemed made of gold under the dim light of Terra outside the windows. You clutched the pillow at your chest, admiring every detail he could offer to you.

A sound, a chuckle, came from him while he opened one of his eyes, looking at you with that kind of adoration that only you could hold in your tiny hands. He grasped you, delicately, guiding you towards him. holding you closer to his chest.

"You're doing it again, darling…"

"I love watching you, you know that…"

He laughed, kissing the crown of your head. You wondered how many other lovers he ever had. Many, you were sure, told you that he did have experience in the matter, a response for your doubts, but it wasn't exactlywhat you really wanted to know.

What troubled you was about the now. Would he ever be able to run in the arms of someone else while you waited for him there? You didn't know; maybe you didn't want to know.

You just snuggle in his arms, allowing the calmness of the moment to cradle you to sleep.

Lorgar:

A moan of pain resounded in your chamber, followed only by the slumping figure of your beloved husband. He had returned from a victorious campaign, and yet he looked anything but satisfied. You stood up immediately, reaching him while he slumped on your shared bed. Another moan came from him while you tried to make him turn on your side.

"Lorgar? Is everything all right?"

"…," he sighed. "…I've…discussed with my brothers again…"

"Oh…" You said, caressing his head that slowly found a place on your knees. You knew what they were saying; you didn't need any information, but that didn't mean you were used to hearing them at all. He sighed again, feeling the softness of your leg with his fingers.

"I am sure of my mission; I would never doubt, but… They seem so blind to the truth… I am trying to help them, but they seem unresponsive."

"They're just hardened by violence, my love."

"They believe I'm weak…."

"They're not able to use anything but brute force. Listen," you held his hand in yours, making him rise a little to look at him in his eyes. "Your work, your mission, is beyond every one of them! You choose another approach than them! You gave people hope, a new light! The light of your father, the Emperor!"

He looked at you talking, smiling a little, seeing the devotion that you had for him in your eyes, shining as the one he had for you.

"Do you really believe that, my beloved one?"

"Lorgar, you have to trust me. You've never been unworthy to stay at your side! One day, you'll hear the Emperor himself proclaim that your work is true and just!"

He hugged you as close to his heart as he could.

"What would I do without you?"

"They'll have to take me away from you, my love!"

Vulkan:

"My gem? Are you here?"

Vulkan heard the sound of stuff being moved, something being dropped in the water, and steam. He entered his persona forge, your tiny hands holding the smaller version of his instruments that he had made for you once you told him you wanted to try his own mastery.

"Wait, wait, wait! Don't come! It's almost ready!" Vulkan steps a foot inside, looking around the place. There was quite the mess. He wondered, How long have you been in there, working on who knows what?.

"My dear, I haven't seen you for hours! I started to get worried!"

"I know, I know, but I wanted it to be perfect!" Your grippers emerged in the water and reemerged; you took a good look at whatever was in your hands and then suddenly started to work with some sandpaper against it. Vulkan tried to get closer, his hands open, trying to get at least a hug from you, only for you to start to back away from him, hiding your secret on you.

"No, no, no, it's not ready; I need to finish it!"

"I demand affection from you, my beloved!"

"I want to hug you too, but I need to finish it!"

"At least one kiss?" You sighed… then stopped, allowing yourself to get kissed by that giant of your husband… And whatever thing you had hidden was quickly stolen and taken by him. He admires the object, a metal cylinder, quite rough, still in need of some processing to make the metal durable and shiny, the edges smooth, and give it a less unclear shape. He tried to understand what it was and what could have been his purpose, only to be snatched away by you.

"You ruined my surprise!"

"Surprise?"

"It was a ring! For our anniversary!"

Vulkan now had to admit, behind the flaws of the beginner of the forge, the object was clearly shaped to be held by a bigger finger, such as his. He felt his heart weigh knowing that his curiosity had led to a frown on your face. His hands took you in a sweet embrace, hotter than the forge itself.

"Forgive me, my love, I was just curious…"

"…it's fine… it's bad anyway…"

"Is made by a beginner. As a forgiveness, I'll help you make a new one."

"Really???"

"AND I'll make one for you to match our work."

The sensation of your lips kissing him was enough for him to forget the mistake.

Corvus Corax:

Your eyesight needed time to adapt to the darkness of the Ravenspire, but unlike the Astartes that resided there or your husband, your eyes weren't made for the dark of the night and the shadow.

But you were a learner, and you were good at adapting to your surroundings.

Your eyes were now good at recognizing the shadows and at averting movements, and your ears were now better at hearing the movements between the walls of your home.

You moved in the open space, your feet trying to move making as little noise as you could, and you looked around in search of something that could give him away.

Then you noticed it, a shape, a small movement of a cape, the swish of a feather between them. Completely still, it was almost undetectable, but you did find it.

You slowly move, closer and closer, following the shadows of the walls, holding your breath. You opened your arms and—

"Found you!"

You embrace only the thin air, falling onward, feeling the fabric of his mantle escape from your grip, and instead of a sturdy and hard body, you meet the hard pavement of the ship.

His skin, white as a ghost, emerged from the shadows. He stepped closer to you until he was on one knee, observing your face, now red from the fall.

"You did… But you rejoiced over the catch before my actual capture. You gave yourself away."

You puffed, observing how Corvus was still trying to hide a small grin of satisfaction.

"…But you're learning."

You smiled, and he allowed you to. Jump on him in a tight hug.

Alpharius Omegon:

"So?"

They talked in unison, to the point that it was even harder to see which one started and which one followed. You stood there, sitting and thinking, while two pairs of eyes looked at you with the gleam of amusement.

Despite holding the title of spouse, sometimes you wondered if you were more a plaything than all.

Your hand on your lips, you kept on looking between the twins, trying to make a distinction between every small detail that they had, between the wrinkles under their eyes, the almost unnoticeable skin imperfections, and the way their smile seemed more like a grin than a playful one.

"…will you shift position in the moment I give my answer?"

They looked at you, then at each other, then back at you, and they tipped their heads with the same synchronicity of a mirror.

"What are you talking about?"

"We would never!"

Yes, yes, they would. You thought for a little… Then rise from your seat.

They watched with curiosity when you jostled yourself on top of the chair, careful not to let it fall with you on it. Their curiosity turned to worries when you faced them and the

"ALPHY, CATCH ME!"

Suddenly you jumped from the chair, and the twin on the left had already opened his arms to catch you.

Once he had posed you on your two feet, and the worry disappeared from his tight embrace, you smiled widely.

"You're Alpharius! And you're Omegon!"

You smiled at the twi ,That seemed to have seen the end of the world.

[nightscythe]

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.

[iluminatka16]

"From beyond the stars"

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

[Chapter List]

Summary: A girl from our world finds herself in a Warhammer universe in the 30th millennium. After a not-so-pleasant awakening, she faces a confrontation with none other than the Emperor of Mankind himself.

Tags: isekai, ending up in a fictional universe, primarchxf!oc (check note in the end), found family trope

Warnings: mention of failed suicide attempt, cursing

Word count: 3340

The first thing that came to Yelena's senses was the fact that it was… strangely quiet. Sure, she could hear the humming and beeping of machines, but nothing else. No conversations, no footsteps in the corridor. For a while she even thought that her suicide attempt had succeeded and she was now in some limbo or other shithole where she would have to listen to the annoying beeping for the rest of the world for her sins. After that, in addition to her hearing, her other senses began to work. She felt that her body was being enveloped by a quilt, made of a pleasant material despite its roughness, and that she was lying on a rather firm mattress and an exceptionally soft pillow. Then came the smell, and with it the sterile scent of disinfectant. Yes, this was definitely a hospital. Just why the hell was it so quiet?

Yelena tried to open her eyes, which proved to be a very difficult task. At any attempt to move, her body seemed to stand in hellish flames, radiating the worst pain she had ever felt. It was as if she had woken up from a long coma and had to learn all over again how to control her own muscles. Then she felt fear. The most primitive fear, like that of some animal. Something was wrong. Very wrong. She had no idea what it could have been about, but her mind was going crazy. She wanted to scream, whine, scratch her eyes out, curl up to hide vital organs or, preferably, jump off that bed and look for a small, sheltered space to squeeze into. She was not safe, everything was wrong. She didn't belong here, no, she needed to take shelter, hide, escape. Feelings of terror and panic flooded her like hot lead, sealing and burning her throat, suffocating her. The beeping of the machines became more and more unbearable with each passing second, like knives digging into her mind, torturing her, an invisible hand on her chest, pressing her to-

With the opening of her eyes, everything suddenly disappeared. Panting, like a wounded animal, she slowly rose to a sitting position and looked around. The room she was in appeared like a hospital room. The machines, on the other hand? That's another story. They were just… strange. Granted, the last time she was in a hospital was about seven years ago, but it probably shouldn't look like that. Second, why the hell was it so quiet in here? She should have heard at least some footsteps, not to mention other typical hospital sounds. But there was nothing. No voices, no rustling. Nothing, just the cursed beeping of the machine. She moved her hand, wanting to lift the quilt and get up, but felt resistance.

There were leather straps around her wrists, which were connected to the bed frame by some elongated piece of elastic material. Same for her left hand.

Ohh fuck fuck fuck. She was in so deep shit.

Apparently she ended up in a mental hospital and even more so in solitary confinement. Fuck, as if it couldn't get any worse, she looked down and saw that she was dressed in a white hospital gown. Great, that means someone else had stripped her down and dressed her in the thing. She was naked, not counting the thin material, and pinned to the bed. For a few seconds she considered trying to open her bonds with her teeth, but a quick inspection showed that they were too well secured.

A hiss. The sound of footsteps.

Yelena flinched, violently pulled out of her panicked focus by an unexpected new sound. She raised her eyes to see that a man dressed in a white coat was standing in the doorway. The first thing she noticed was that it was difficult for her to determine his age. He might as well have been in his late 20s or early 40s. Dark eyes, tanned skin, handsome face, long black hair tied in a ponytail. He was quite tall, but nothing… unusual? His movements were very calm and slow, and there was a slight, warm smile on his face. It was as if he was approaching a wild animal, not another human being. Although Yelena was not much different at this point from the terrified prey, who, driven into a corner, waited until the predator finally decided to lunge at her and rip her throat out.

“I apologize for this inconvenience. While you were unconscious, you had a seizure of spasms, which made us have to tie you up so you wouldn't hurt yourself.” The man's voice was low, but at the same time very pleasant. Again, a reference to the fatherly attitude popped into Yelena's head. She tensed up as he approached her, and the man, seeing this, held out his hands in a peaceful gesture. Slowly, as if he didn't want to frighten her even more, he unbuckled her right hand. Then he rested his hand on the edge of the bed and leaned over, reaching for her left wrist, and after a moment Yelena was free. However, she didn't dare move even a millimeter until the man took a few steps away, slipping his hands back into his coat.

“Can you talk?”

It was a strange question for a doctor. In general, the man was strange. His accent was strange. Even his fucking aura was strange.

Yelena concentrated, trying to gather herself to say something. Only now did she realize how dry her throat was.

“Yes.” her voice, even as she practically whispered, was hoarse. She forced herself to swallow her saliva, in an effort to provide any hydration.

“Good. What is the last thing you remember?”

It was a very good question. If she was now in a mental hospital, chances were that it depended on him whether she could avoid spending the next few days there.

“I leaned over the railing on the bridge and lost my balance. I fell over the railing and then the last thing I remember was the impending water.” Yelena was a good liar. A really good one. But something in the man's gaze made her feel as if he had just caught her at it. However, instead of confronting her story, he just smiled slightly. Again.

“How much longer are you going to pretend to be a doctor and play this game, My Lord?”

Yelena turned toward the sound and-.

oh

WHAT THE FUCK.

In the doorway stood an old man dressed in simple pale robes, looking at the “doctor” and at her with something like irritation. It was completely absurd, but the first thing she thought of was the fact that the man reminded her of a Warhammer 40k character named-.

“Malcador, I told you to…”

Yelena didn't listen further. As if burned, she jumped off the hospital bed, ignoring the pain in her muscles, and pushed it to the middle of the room, creating a barrier between herself and the two men. No, that didn't make any sense. It was some kind of joke. A hallucination. She had hit her head and now had brain damage. Or she was in a coma and just dreamed it.

“What the fuck. What the actual fuck.”

If it was a hallucination, why was the English he used so strange. Like, different sounding. She must have hit her head pretty hard. However, everything seemed so… real. She felt the cold tiles under her feet, the panic that flooded her body was as real as possible.

The pseudo doctor merely sighed, still not moving from his seat.

“I was planning to tell you a little more gently. From what I've read from your mind, our world is just a product of fiction, written on the pages of books, and believe your arrival is just as shocking to us-”

“Shut up. What the fuck are you talking about. It's just a hallucination, after all, there's no way anything like that could have happened. HE…” Yelena pointed an accusatory finger in Malcador's direction. “He…”

Wait a minute. Malcador was dead in the fortieth millennium. And he definitely did not address anyone as my lord, unless….

Neoth. The fucking Emperor of Mankind.

She just told the fucking Emperor of Mankind to shut up.

“You know one of my names. One of the many secrets you shouldn't have. And I hold no grudges for your words.”

Malcador just shook his head.

“Saying outright that you can hear her thoughts is unlikely to help the whole matter, My Lord. Look at her, she looks like, her heart is about to explode.”

Well, the old man's words were not far from the truth. Yelena felt as if her heart was indeed about to explode. Or her head. Or all at once. It didn't make the SLIGHTEST sense. NO SENSE AT ALL, ACTUALLY.

“Okay. Okay. Let's assume that you are not a product of my imagination. How the hell did I get here. And which millennium is it anyway, since Malcador is alive.” Yelena couldn't even think of using any sort of titles. Not now. She still couldn't believe what she was seeing.

“This conversation should wait until you calm down. Someone will bring you your robes right away, and in the meantime you should try to get yourself under control. I don't want to calm you down by force, so if possible, calm down, child.”

Well, doing so was not so easy. But just an hour later she was sitting in a comfortable, richly decorated armchair, wearing a soft tunic and wrapped in a fluffy blanket. In her hands was a steaming, creamy drink whose taste made her think of hot chocolate. She was told to wait here and the door was closed. So she had been waiting for the last twenty minutes, hearing hurried footsteps in the hallway. It wasn't enough time to grasp with her mind what had actually happened, but at least she managed to come to terms with the fact that it wasn't a dream. She had never seen the inside of the Imperial Palace (as it was clear from her deduction that this was where she was), and the decor of the place was completely different from what she had imagined. She had a chance to see the Custodians, and as they led her here, she passed at least three clocks along the way, and from each she could easily read the time, which matched in every clock.

That is, in short, she was fucked.

She was snapped out of her reverie by the turning of the key in the lock. After a moment, the door opened and there stood in it none other than Neoth himself. The doctor's coat had been replaced by rich robes, and long black hair flowed freely over his shoulders. However, his face, height and figure remained the same.

“I see you are slowly accepting the latest information. Good. We need to talk.” The emperor closed the door behind him and sat down in the chair on the opposite side. “You have many questions, but so do I. We'll do it like this. Once a question is asked by me, once by you.”

Yelena only nodded, not trusting her own voice.

“Good. So to answer your question, you are in the 30th millennium. And to answer your next question, which you would probably wish to ask. Yes, I have already created primarchs, but none of them have betrayed yet.” Neoth rested his hands on the armrests and looked at her with a slightly stricter gaze. “And before I ask my question, I expect you to be completely honest. You lied to me once. Don't try to repeat that mistake again. Tell me, what are you going to do with the knowledge you have?”

“I don't understand.”

“You possess knowledge about me that not even my closest friend knows. Knowledge that can harm my cause and me. What are you going to do with it. I'm not able to control your memories, so I can't just erase it.”

It was a very good question on which her life depended. Although the Emperor did not say it directly, Yelena was well aware that he was considering at that moment whether he should kill her or take the risk. She knew him too well, at least as a fictional character.

“And what should I do? Summon Tzeentch now and tell him your secrets? Or go to the cultists and give them this knowledge? I have enough knowledge of this galaxy to know how those who side with chaos end up. Xenos? The Orcs are not interested in that, and the Eldar would treat me like an animal, because I'm human. I have no one to turn to, even if I wanted to. And making an enemy in the most powerful man doesn't seem like a good idea at all.”

The emperor merely nodded. His facial expression hardly changed, except that he looked a bit more deep in thought.

“Your question.” It looked like he wasn't going to inform her so far whether he would leave her alive.

Yelena took a slightly deeper breath and put her cup down on the coffee table. What could she ask him? She had so many questions that she couldn't even formulate one.

“Why this form? I know that most of the Imperium knows you a little taller and in golden armor. I also know that neither the current one nor your official one is your true form. So why did you choose this one? You could have instantly changed into a huge man in shining golden armor and-”

“And give you a heart attack, child?” a gentle smile appeared on the Emperor's face. “The human psyche is fragile. I decided that the best choice for you would be someone less… intimidating. And warmer.”

Yelena slowly nodded, taking in this information. Well, yes, it made sense. Neoth, or whatever his real name was, was choosing for himself what form he showed himself in. Merciful on his part. A little too… merciful.

“And your question?”

“I wasn't able to get details out of your mind about heresy and the future. Maybe it's a trick of the chaos gods, maybe it's a prank of Warp, or maybe it's a merit of your mind, because I know you have quite warm feelings towards my sons.” The look the Emperor gave her, made Yelena momentarily regret that she had ever read any Warhammer fanfiction in her life. “I want you to give me the names and reasons of my sons who betrayed me."

“No."

“No?”

Yelena had no idea what she was doing. But every cell in her body was screaming not to give him this information. She saw that his gaze became stern again, and the Emperor straightened up in his chair. She was treading on very thin ice. One wrong word and her head would be separated from the rest of her body.

“I know that if I give you this, you will kill them. But if the heresy hasn't happened yet, that means there's a chance they can be saved.”

“You know who I am, and yet you're taking a risk by defying me to protect men you've never met.” Neoth tilted his head slightly. “You're an interesting person. Very interesting. And at the same time extremely brave and so kind as to be deemed foolish.”

The emperor mused for a moment, as if considering something.

“Good then. We will return to this conversation the next day. I know enough.”

Seeing that he was rising from his chair, Yelena also got up quickly, throwing off her blanket.

“Wait. What's going to happen to me? Are you going to kill me?”

Neoth stopped in place and looked at her. A slight smile spread across his face again.

“You passed my test, so for now you don't have to worry about death. In addition, it's been a long time since anyone around me disregarded all rules of ethics and royal protocol by speaking to me in such a familiar manner. That's… refreshing. I think I'm starting to like you. Come, child, I'll take you somewhere where you can rest.”

Well, yes, fucking titles. Yelena should have addressed him in a formal way, using “my lord.” However, in the turmoil of emotions she felt since she learned the truth, she didn't even think about it. Fortunately, it seemed that the Emperor didn't mind. Neoth opened the door and walked out of the small office. Yelena immediately joined him, but as soon as she looked out into the corridor, the friendly man disappeared, and in his place was a giant in armor so golden that she thought for a second that she would go blind. It seemed that that form there was reserved only for her.

The Emperor put his hands behind his back and started walking ahead, a silent command for Yelena to follow him. So she did. They walked in silence for a good few minutes before two figures she almost recognized appeared before her eyes. Much taller than any mortal could be, handsome in face and well built. Even without their powerarmor, any fool would have figured out who they were. Horus and Sanguinius. She had seen a lot of fanart depicting them, but none could even compete with what they looked like in person. The men strolled along, discussing something until The Great Angel spotted her. Almost immediately he fell silent, staring at her visibly surprised by what he saw. Horus, after a second, also looked in her direction and opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but eventually abandoned the idea.

Yelena felt her throat constrict and tears gathered in her eyes for some reason. Now she understood how much of a curse the knowledge she possessed was. Unable to withstand their gaze, nor wanting to accidentally cry, she sped up her step and drove her gaze to the floor. Fortunately, they immediately disappeared around the corner, losing sight of the two sons of the Emperor. Neoth didn't say anything upon seeing this, continuing to walk at a rather fast pace until they stopped in front of an ornate door made of dark wood.

“We are in the guest wing. You have all of it at your disposal, along with the garden, but don't go outside this area. And in particular, don't hang around my sons' chambers. You are a very curious phenomenon for them, and their curiosity is often… dangerous. You will find everything you could possibly need in your chamber. Meals will be delivered to you by the servants. Malcador will probably cuss me out for not keeping you in your cell, so for now try to stay out of his way.”

Then, without a word of goodbye, the Emperor turned and walked away in the direction from which they had come. Well, it could always be worse. Taking a deep breath, Yelena opened the door and entered her new bedroom. If she had been in a better state, she would probably have been stunned by what she saw. A chamber larger than her crappy apartment where she lived in her universe. A large window with a view of the huge garden, a massive bed in the center, obscured by a canopy, a desk, a closet, a fluffy carpet, a cabinet filled with books. Everything in a style that she associated with the Baroque era. Well, not counting the strange TV on the wall. Yelena walked over to the bed, opened the curtains and sank her back on the fluffy quilt.

Oh she was so fucked.

Author's note

First of all, so far I am writing this from the perspective of oc, because I have no experience in writing x reader. However, if there is such a demand, I will try to change the style to x reader (which I can't guarantee will work, because, as I said, I have no experience in this).

Second: let me know if you want more information about Yelena because I have a lot of lore for her!

If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know in the comments.

Tag list: @beckyninja @athenaremo @justfreakynothingelse @lukarus @synfiction @thatnightlamp @pirateshippers-first-mate @amoelcafe12345

[tothesolarium]

Crystal Gorgon wip - updates for my long pieces go to patreon first if ya wanna support my saner freak work

[komosharesocs]

Started working on a Lancer character, my creepy little scrungly

[jbpeony-draws]

my pilot got a new frame! This is a Calendula I modified. It still has Iskander parts and thrown in 1 Sunzi lisence for that accelarator. Got to be my favorite design for her mech yet. I was inspired by Star Nemesis Fiddlesticks and "King of Clowns" sculpture by Arsen Avetisyan.

[fedeath]

Hell yeah! new Lancer commission! this time is a custom low poly Balor! very special commission because is also my first mech design! was a lot of fun and hope you like it!

Also i have 2 slots open on my waitlist for commission starting next week so send me a DM if you are interested! i have updated prices, i will upload the new commission sheet soon!

And you can follow me on my other sites right HERE

All shares are welcome! and follow me for more!

[angronius]

linguinius

[megsdoodletag]

yes ok I have been asked about the updated codex let’s talk updated codex

So. Post Plague-Wars. Ultramar system. Guilliman and Yvraine have a strong alliance, and in completely and totally unrelated news have a daughter named Juno Vaeyncaria Guilliman.

MEANWHILE…

on the other side of the Imperium, the Emperor is given a Text-To-Speech Device. Now the original ITEHATTSD obviously happens prior to Plague Wars so while the basic framework is there (kitten exists, magnus is back, dorn and his Boy are there, etc.) it’s obviously a lil different. Through a series of convoluted events we don’t need to discuss at this point, Magnus accidentally pokes the timeline in a weird way and pops the dead primarchs back into existence. They remember everything just fine! They are just. no longer dead. and now in 42k.

This brings us to what I’m affectionately calling ‘2012 Avengers Tower Imperial Palace.’ All the known primarchs are active, though some are still running around 'lost-ish' in the warp. Most of the previously dead primarchs are ‘recovering’ in their former residencies alongside the TTS crew, seeing to what’s left of their legion and figuring out what the hell is going on with. whatever is happening in M42.

Horus in particular is in a weird spot. first, of all the returnees, he’s alone. Ferrus makes up with fulgrim pretty immediately, sang is permanently covered in various marines of his geneline, konrad’s having a Great Time Actually (we’ll get to that later). but nobody seems to like horus much, a position he’s never been in, and this includes his legion which is entirely under abaddon’s control and not going anywhere in the near future. so he does what any guy going through a midlife crisis does and gets himself a hobby.

See, two supposedly dead primarchs remain unaccounted for after Magnus’ spell, namely the two original Lost Primarchs. by logic this means they must still be alive, somewhere. everyone else is unbothered by this, as Malcador’s memory spell disallows any concentrated thought of the two, and even though the primarchs are aware they had more brothers, to their knowledge dad went out to meet with them and something Went Wrong 🤷🏻‍♀️ and then he came back and retired shortly thereafter. weird! oh well.

but horus was not just killed, he was Unmade. when he was reconstituted it was as though he was new, without the stain of chaos.

and free of malcador’s influence.

while ostensibly crashing on dad’s couch, Horus throws himself into finding out what he believes is the key to all of this, the thing that poisoned the imperium before even the Heresy, the original Deviation from the Plan: whatever actually happened to the two lost primarchs?

Ok it’s later now. Konrad Curze always believed in fate. He followed it dutifully into its darkest depths, to his own grisly death.

And then he came back! He never saw anything about that! He figures that, having lived out his fate to its completion, he’s now free of it entirely. Oh he still has visions, but he’s much more lax in interpreting them, and thinks himself above their dictates besides. So. He still likes flensing people and thinks fear makes a fine method of control and hes still got…issues…but he’s not quite as stuck and he's having a wonderful time about it. and he’s also hanging around the palace bc he’s also got very little contact with his legion, which is either scattered or under Sevatar and/or whichever NL prophet we're on now.

So he gets roped into fucking around in emps’ restricted history section with horus! yippee!

The two actually work really well as a buddy-cop kinda pair, with horus slowly repairing his relationships where he can while konrad trails him and learns how to be alive outside of the narrow scope of his futuresight. Magnus inevitably sticks his nose into things and gets to work undoing the mind-block on the rest of them. Alpharius gets involved because it turns out one of the lost legions might actually still exist. and even lion and leman join the hunt cause honestly they're really curious at this point.

Eventually the uncles drag their niece and her friends into the whole ordeal, in part because she happens to have a particularly strong psychic presence that attracts lost and dead marine souls in the warp. Like a cooler, named character version of the Legion of the Damned. Usefull when trying to gain accurate historical info.

oh yeah and emps gets off the throne at some point. he’s not bothering with the Mystery Gang because he’s too busy being one half of a political deadlock with guilliman, where it’s very clear gman does not actually trust him to lead the imperium anymore and is essentially running his own show off-leash from ultramar, but neither of them are remotely willing to like, discuss this. in any way. so instead they’re just stuck awkwardly across from each other, guilliman never offering control of the imperium back to his father and emps never reaching to take the regent position from him and i think if he stopped to think about it this is bc emps would be. a little nervous about resuming full command back from guilliman. because he’s not sure guilliman would give it to him. and he’s not sure he’s in a position to handle that. again. but emps is allergic to being emotionally competent so his brain skates over that thought, unable to confront it directly with any introspection, and instead he just. doesnt mention it! and guilliman doesnt mention it and emps sits in the wreckage of the dream he accidentally set on fire himself while his son methodically does the work to put it out and they won’t look at each other and its fine its all. fine.

and that’s the Updated Codex! 👍🏻 feel free to ask more

thanks to @wolf_feathers12 for the chance to give my ted talk, and tagging @thisuserissilly for lore posts (tm)

[sapphic-dice]

Sketched a mech pilot for lancer. I love her. She is now one of my favorite OCs. She just. lol. She’s processing some shit. lol.

Also I’m bad at drawing clothes lol. Sorry Olive.

[mehiwilldoitlater]

Your horus x very stressed reader post is rotating so much in my mind.

So have some scenarious that have popped into my mind.

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

The serfs going through different stages of opinions:

"ugh she is so incompetent. At least she isn't mean"

"oh she is trying. Why was she put in charge without anyone to guide her."

"Oh no, our lady is going to die from stress at this rate."

And more.

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

Horus decides to have a few 'vacation' days with his wife.

Day two she is very sick because after so much stress all the possible bugs her body might have accumulated but was unable to deal with from stress are now being dealt with.

-----------

Horus takes his wife on a date. She is performing the being a good wife but slowly relaxs

Horus ends ups mentioning off hand that she should try a bit harder, while talking about different things.

Lady yn goes back to performing the act of being a good wife, now uncomfortable, unhappy and self-conscious. And wanting to leave.

Either Horus doesn't notice or when he notices he doesn't know how to fix it because he doesn't know what was the thing he said that caused that.

Following this. Lady yn trying to work through exhaustion or the start of being ill and just fucking collapsing on her desk.

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

Horus trying to play with his wife's hair and different possibilities:

a bunch, not a lot, falling off.

Him seeing grey hairs, I'm sure he wouldn't know that stress causes grey hairs.

The hair texture is different.

The scalp feels weird?

All of the above

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

Somehow horus learns what prolonged high amounts of stress can do to a human and panics.

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

Lady yn just missing home so much, even if she still loves her husband she starts to resent the relationship itself, and maybe him too just a tiny bit, and regretting meeting him.

One dat Writing down her thoughts on a diary of sorts, or a sparenotebook, that se may or may not feel bad about.

Horus finds it and starts snooping. Even if it is clearly private.

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

THIS! ALL OF THESE THINGS ARE FREAKING LEGIT!

Geez, I'm so glad you shared these with me, because these things are the ones I wanted to point out!

Horus wife is becoming miserable that even waking up and realizing that no, it is not a dream, you are indeed Lady Lupercal, and yes, you still need to fix all those monetary issues that are, in fact, part of your job.

I'm going to go on all of these because they are GOLD:

1) Yes, like YES YES YES. The serfs know that she was struggling with this position from the beginning, and this can cause some trouble for them. But she's trying, okay? She's trying to be a good lady, acting nice to them, trying to mold and play the act, but everyone can see that she's slowly crumbling.

Also, 100 points if she's hearing all of this and just walks away because she knows that this is just true.

2) It's a cute thing, okay? a small escapade, a small run away in some nice place (Fulgrim suggested it, helping to bond more with her)—enough to forget! But the situation is already so bad that a few days on a beach is not like that can help. Also, as soon as she sets foot back on Terra, the problems will come back, so…

3) On his part, Horus did try to make a nice night for both of them. Again, was this maybe suggested by his sons? Like, "You should need a small date! Clear your evening, spend time with your wife!"

I would go with the option that he did not notice it because, in his mind, he just wanted to help her! He didn't mean anything bad! I mean, of course he knows that she's doing her best; she just needs to try a littleharder!

But he will notice, of course...when she collapsed like a dead body in front of everyone, like her brain just shut down in front of all his sons, while he still held her hand, still trying to process the event.

4) ALL…ALLLLL. Things went wild when he heard her crying in front of her vanity, a bunch of her hair stuck in her brush, and the clear view of her scalp.

She'll start wearing some veil on her head, while he'll try to present the issue with some apothecary, hoping for a solution.

5) The realization, when he realizes that all of these are not some strange illness, is not something that you could have gotten on that vacation; this is all happening because you're struggling with your work. He'll start to ask questions, asking about her personal serf and people around her. Then he remembers that date, and his brain just goes wild.

6) He'll do it. He knew about that diary, the one you kept on yourself, that no one touched.

He took it, and he read it, because he wanted to know how deep the thing was going.

He learned about your true emotion, how you started to develop some resentment about everything, about him, and he doesn't know how to react to it.

He failed you? But how come? He did everything right.

How could it be that he was the cause of your pain?

[nightscythe]

primarchs being overstimulated**

**sexually -- nsfw, 18+ below the cut. pre-heresy

you've broken a primarch. congratulations! enjoy your prize ˃ ᵕ ˂

lion: he’d not seen it coming – he’d not been going at it that long with you, but truthfully, so many things you did utterly enamoured him. his hands gripped your hips, his breath was all over your neck, but one last feeling of you clenching around him had been enough. his hips stuttered, he held his breath for just long enough for you to notice, his weight almost falling onto you. in one last ditched effort to maintain his control, keep his eyes focused on you, he’d rolled his hips forward, voice commanding behind you. i’m not finished with you yet, kitten. but the way you moaned his name in response, arched your back a little more and begged him without asking? he shakes at the feeling, even comes close to begging you, too. don’t… don’t fucking move. 

fulgrim: you’d smirked when he’d told… asked you, with a delicate hand placed on your shoulder, be good for me, won’t you my love? you always were so good for him, sat on your knees like he wanted, asked him for permission, nodded along to every one of his requests like the good little thing he wanted you to be. somehow you being good always ended up with him beneath you, in whatever form, begging you to let him come. it was always when his cock was in your mouth that he’d be at his worse, crying, whining, fisting the sheets beside him whilst trying to find the words to beg you with. so when he asks through tears after what seems like hours of your slow and controlled mouth all over him, please, i can’t… i can’t take more, you just laugh and tell him to wait a little longer – and he loves it. 

perty: you knew he could get worked up when he was completely drunk on sex with you. he’d begged, just once, a whispered please as his hands found you and held you in place as he truly writhed at the sensations he was feeling. you weren’t sure what had caused such a reaction, you’d barely been taking his cock a few minutes when it had happened. but now, you craved it, wanting to hear him choking on his own pleasure, his body shaking, his mind broken. you’d edged him over and over, feigning innocence, you needed to stop for a second, you needed to readjust, just to see if pushing him over the edge that way would have the same reaction. it never did; or you never had the stamina to fully test it. his overstimulation was sporadic, and nothing you’d ever be able to control, so the next time he whispered more, please, more you never would have expected it. 

khan: it had been too long for you to remember, and you’d truly given in to the feeling of him fucking you raw, twitching inside you as his pants filled the air and he fell down above you, his chest pressed to your back. mine, he’d growl, his fingers gripped your waist, or anywhere he could hold you, leaving the beginnings of purple marks beneath them. he’d fucked you deep before, he always did, but you could feel him so much further this time. mine, little one, he’d choke out, faster again, mine to ruin, mine to make come… mine. you’d see stars far more times than you could count as the arm which held him up began to shake, something close to a moan left his lips, and he forced himself through the feeling to reward you one more time. 

leman: it was a near impossible feat to try to overstimulate him, but you’d prepared. patience, time, and your never-ending love for someone who craved it so badly. you had never seen him like this. usually so controlled, usually calling you his perfect little pup as you drool from how he makes you feel. but when he looks to you, desperate eyes searching for something as he feels something new, his lips parted and hands reaching for anything which gave him stability, he moans like it was the first time he’d ever released. i’m… fuck… again… he barely gets his words out as you ride him through it. he may have struck his claim on you the moment you smiled so sweetly back at him. no one else could ever make him feel that way. 

dorn: you’d be lying to say you weren’t pleased with your work. he never broke his control, he never showed less command than he wanted to, yet here he laid – his cheeks flushed a bright pink, his body covered in sweat like you’d pushed him to the very limits, his breaths coming in small pants. every time he tried to speak his voice would crack, never giving you more than a few sounds at a time. it hadn’t even been that long, but shutting him down seemed to do something to him. allowing him to feel pleasure outside of the bounds he’d created, pressing a kiss to his lips and telling him it was okay to let go, it was enough to ensure he did. the only problem you hadn’t calculated for was him becoming addicted to the feeling of falling apart at your fingertips. 

curze: he’d committed himself to take care of you, to reward you with whatever pleasure you deserved as a kind gesture to thank you for what you did for him. he loved the way you looked when you were utterly spent yet coming from him one more time because he really wanted to reward you. so when he feels himself falling into that exact same position after what he considers not that long, with his hips jerking, his cock aching yet begging to feel more, he’s furious with himself. tries to push himself through the feeling, focus on you, but the way you feel when you’re around him is just too much. one whimper, then the feeling of your fingers in his hair, he can barely understand what’s going on around him. it never happens. he tries to tell you that, but in the moment, he just wants to feel your arms around him and hear your heartbeat. maybe he’ll go again, it hadn’t taken too long for him to feel that way. 

sanguinius: he was made to serve you, and he’d never let you go without what you both wanted or needed. but everyone has a breaking point, and sanguinius is no different – it just takes a while for him to feel it. just one more, he’d ask you, please love. when you’d agreed, let him pleasure you whilst getting himself off, you’d not imaged what it would end with. minutes after he came he’s still hard, whimpering each and every he’s reminded of your touch, the way you made him feel too. he cries, almost sobs at the way you purr his name and bring him back to you. he wanted more, yet knew he couldn’t take anymore – but if it pleased you, if he got to see you come one more time for him? he’d go through anything to see that, even if that meant breaking himself. 

ferrus: you’d seen him overstimulated before because it wasn’t hard to get him to that point, and what a sight it was. he’d wind himself up, rougher with each minute that passed as he cursed his own weakness for how susceptible he was to the feeling of you – no matter what you were doing to him. it felt like he was being pulled deeper, yet pushed over the edge, something he couldn’t explain or rationalise, which made it feel even worse. as he groaned from the sounds you were making, his teeth sink into the skin near your neck and he basically growls at you, you can’t break me. but you can, and you are, and you have many times before. he’d bury his cock into you like he’d never feel you again, silently whispering a flurry of words you’d never hear again. 

angron: anything with you is a sensation he would crave; love, hate, or sex. every time he comes for you, he always wants more, but he’s always right at the edge already. his hand wrapped around your throat, not to do anything more than rest there, hold you in place as his mouth finds your ear and his hips buckle and he presses you between him and the wall. now, come for me, he’d tell you, now, right now, want to feel you when i break. his aggression is hidden behind the moan that meets your skin, how his breath trembles each time he ruts into you. his mind short circuits the moment you listen to his command, and in that second, nothing matters other than you.  

rob: he’d prized himself on his own composure, and it was no different with you. like another of his brothers, it was your mouth which truly ended that composition. his fingers weaved into your hair as you take his cock in your throat so well, looking up through those pretty lashes to meet his eyes and moan around him. his breath stutters as he bites back his own moan. what are you doing to me, he’d muse, gripping your hair a little tighter. when he starts to feel too much, he’d pull you off his cock, making you wait for a moment before having you deepthroat him nice and slow until the sensation began to wear off. he’d not let you witness his true overstimulation, not until he’d come at least once. 

morty: you’d not known what to expect from him. always so controlled, measured, his dominance never falters around you. he’d tell himself to stop even if his body ached for more, begged him for just a little taste of something, someone, so sweet. so just before he comes again, again, unexpected yet chasing the high of feeling you all over him and so eager to please him, his hand slams down beside you and he ruts into you like he’s never had the pleasure of coming before. he tries to keep control, but it was slipping, his desperate fucking doing little to disguise the needy little sub he really is inside. he’d ride out his high again, minimal words offered to you, but somewhere amongst everything he says a thank you, then another, knowing he’d never find another like you. 

magnus: he's always wanted to please you, serve you silently in your pleasure and know that the way you squirm and writhe is because of him. he never knew that he could feel the same way - but if you took your time with him, he'd get there. could take days of build-up. if you got him truly lost in the way you took him, made him feel so loved and appreciated and truly fucked out, praised him like he truly was the brightest star in the whole universe? he'd shatter the presence of the warp around him. starts with a quiet beg, please my love, please. ends him stuttering parts of his words without any meaning. don't... can't... please... please... love..., his hands grasping at you, needing to hold something for his own sanity. he enjoys the unexpected feeling that overstimulation gives him, never truly wanting it to end. 

horus: he loved seeing you on top. nothing made his day brighter. except for maybe when you were straddling his soaked thighs, your hands reaching for his own that shook at your sides, consoling him as he told you it was too much, hurts, and not sure i can take more, sweetheart. even as he says that he’s reaching to slide his cock into you, ready to watch you ride him and really break him. because it never took too long for him, not as he gasped your name, threw his head back and let you take over. only thing that could make it even better was if you laid beside him afterwards and whispered sweetly how much you loved him and stroked him until he came again, but that was too much to ask for... right?

lorgar: he’d give you anything you wanted, really. so when you ask him what’s wrong, whether he can’t take one more round of you fisting his cock, maybe even fucking him, he shakes his head and practically begs you for it. he can barely breathe, he’s lasted for so long that you didn’t think he’d ever reach this point, and even as his fingers twitch and curl into something to stabilise him, he’s still trying to praise you. just a few words, movements, anything from you is enough to have him over the edge. every time you come, he thanks you. every time you make him come, another thank you. when he feels his body shake, when he’s completely broken, that’s what he considers worship – and it makes him cry the hardest. 

vulkan: you’d never anticipated being in this position, given what it would take to actually reach the point where he was overstimulated. but when he looks down at you, his chest heaving beneath him as his lips tremble, one feverish kiss pressed to your lips as he buries his head into your shoulder and fucks you through the feeling, you realise there’s only need buried behind his eyes. he speaks so softly through his own high, telling you again how much he loves you and, somewhere along the lines, that you’ll be the death of me when his hips stutter and a hiss leaves his lips, only to be followed by a low moan. he tells you i’ll take care of you, that it’s all okay beloved, but he won’t stop until you’re worse off than he is. 

corvus: he’d not realised how close he was to breaking. i’m not done with you, he’d barked as he held you right where he wanted you. his voice was shaking, his hands barely held the same strength as before, but he’d not allowed himself to stop. all this to give you, he’d mumble against your skin, sweat dripping down his chest as he stops to look at you, you’re going to take it all, aren’t you, little dove? he’d not realised that the only thing keeping him upright was your pleasure. he only sinks the tip in and he loses everything. a whimper leaves his lips as tears prick in the corners of his eyes, yet he forces himself to endure and fucks you through every second of his overstimulation. he can lay beside you afterwards – all he wants now is to see you come undone one more time for him.  

alpharius: he was always craving more than he needed, maybe more than he wanted. it wasn’t enough to come once, twice, even three times for you. it wasn’t even enough to see you come double that for him. he’d worn himself out, ruined himself to the thought of you because you were the only thing that mattered to him. hurts, angel. even if it did hurt, he buries his cock inside you once more. i need more, angel, i can’t stop. you… he’d stop for just a second to look at you. you’re everything. and every time he feels broken from how good you feel, he falls a little more in love with you, sinking his claws in just a little deeper so you’ll never leave. 

for @constanceisonline, thank you for the request ◡̈ intriguing to consider and think about, thank you for being so patient!

[iluminatka16]

"From beyond the stars" Chapter 3

Chapter 2 [Chapter List]

Summary: Why it's not worth insulting the Emperor and a conversation with the main culprit of the whole Heresy, Horus.

Tags: isekai, ending up in a fictional universe, primarchxf!oc, found family trope, emperor and horus make an apperance

Warnings: mention of failed suicide attempt, cursing, typical canon violence, mention of child abuse

Word count: 2773 Edit: FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHIG THAT IS HOLY AND UNHOLY, I ACCIDENTALY PUT FEW WRONG TAGS, AND TUMBLR ISN'T ALLOWING ME TO DELETE THEM (*screams of despair*). no, this isn't emperor x reader fic

Unfortunately, she was not given peace of mind this time either. Before either brother had time to answer her, heavy rhythmic footsteps sounded behind them. Yelena turned toward the sound and sighed quietly. It seemed that Custodian had returned to his post. But since he was walking towards them, it meant that either they were in trouble for talking to her, or the Neoth wanted something from her.

“The Emperor is expecting you.” briefly without explanation. Of course, she could have tried to inquire, but she knew perfectly well that it would have accomplished nothing. The bodyguard of the most powerful man in the galaxy probably didn't know himself what exactly was going on. Because why share his plans with anyone? What could have gone wrong? Let's think. Ah well! All this mystery led to a fucking heresy and Neoth looking like a zombie from The Walking Dead.

“Looks like I'm in trouble. Farawell gentlemen, if I survive then I definitely need to have a chat with you.” Yelena extended her finger in front of her and moved it to none other than the primarch, after whom the aforementioned heresy was named. “Especially with you Horus.”

“Horus? I thought most baseline humans call me My Lord.”

Yelena only smiled.

The road through the golden corridors was a torture. Lack of sleep, hunger, anxiety. All this made her think she was going crazy. She had barely been here, and she had managed to insult the fucking Emperor himself and break his ban. Three times! She was not supposed to talk to the primarchs, and she talked to three of them. And also with Curz. It's a good thing the Heresy of Horus hadn't happened yet, because if she had met that version of Konrad… well, she still remembered the passage in the book about him, where he decided to murder almost the entire crew of the ship and torture the only survivor. On top of that, there was still that fucking Custodian. Not only did he not react when the Night Haunter followed her footsteps into the garden, even though the primarchs were also forbidden to go near her, but he also walked away from the site of his post-

Wait a moment.

Custodian is no ordinary soldier who simply runs away from his post to go play cards. Even if his family was dying in front of him, he wouldn't move unless the Emperor himself gave the order… THAT BASTARD.

The door to the spacious study closed behind her, and Yelena was left alone with Neoth. The man was staring at a holographic map projector of some planetary system in front of him, not even raising his eyes to look at her.

“You set me up.” Yelena didn't care about the titles at this point, feeling her rage boiling inside her. She thought that she was indeed going mad from lack of sleep.

“You said they could be saved. Testing your words was the only option. Admittedly, my plans for your first confrontation looked a bit different, but you handled everything yourself by running out into the garden. It was a matter of time before Curze followed you. From what I noticed, you are like a magnet for my sons. I was honestly surprised that none of them broke my prohibition and entered the chamber I assigned to you. But I must admit that you have done remarkably well.”

“Talking to him was "doing remarkably well"? He didn't take anything from my words, an-”

“Konrad spent the whole night talking to you.” The Emperor interrupted her, finally lifting his gaze from above the map. “That's more than his brothers accomplished in their years of Crusade together. And you managed to get him interested in just a dozen minutes of discussion together.”

“So what do you expect me to do?”

“Since you were able to get to Konrad, it should go easily with the other primarchs. You know their mentality, past and future. You know what awaits them.”

“And then what?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Yelena slowly approached the table. She didn't even think about her next words.

“Let's say I'll stop the heresy, which might be difficult, because there's a chance I'll accidentally make things worse. Great, you have your generals, you're not trapped in a golden chair, undergoing torture for ten thousand years. You've conquered the entire cosmos. What's next? Are you going to get rid of them like you got rid of the Thunder Warriors?”

Neoth slowly straightened up. Probably it was the action of his power, but Yelena felt an unpleasant shudder run through her body under his gaze. She felt so small, so insignificant. Like a bug that he could trample with his shoe. Well, and here his was a mistake. She was so familiar to this feeling, that it only fueled her rage.

“Careful…”

“Because what? Are you going to kill me?” Yelena hissed, clenching her hands into fists. “Just like you killed those who opposed you? Because so far I am the only one who knows the exact course of events of the heresy. You don't know them, otherwise you wouldn't have ended up the way you ended up in the books with the whole Imperium going to shit.”

“Don't overestimate yourself. You are not as important as you think. The fact that you're still alive is due solely to my grace. One more word and you'll end up in a cell, where I'll extract this information from you with torture.”

“Even knowing the exact course of the heresy, you wouldn't be able to stop it. Do you know why? Because you are an bad father who sees, men who blindly obey you, as tools in your Great Fucking Plan.”

After that, there was only pain. Yelena felt like her body went up in flames. Blood gushed from her nose and filled her throat, running down her chin. Suddenly standing became too painful and before she knew it, she was collapsed onto the floor, convulsing in pain. She had no idea what was happening, couldn't breathe, couldn't think. It was hard to tell how long it lasted, but suddenly everything went quiet. She was still on the floor, choking on her own blood, and standing over her was none other than Neoth.

“Maybe the world you were born into is much softer and merciful, but there are different rules here. I have killed for lesser offenses than loudly insulting me. You are weak. You are a nobody. And killing you will be like squashing an ant with a shoe.”

As if to confirm her words, Yelena felt his boot resting on her head. She wasn't stupid. She knew that he could easily split her skull, mix bones and brain. One push. That was all it took. The fact that he hadn't done it yet meant that he was giving her a chance to apologize. For her to beg for mercy.

The problem was that she felt no fear. Only rage. It was as if she was again a child being beaten by her father using his belt, trying to break her. If he wasn't able to do it, she'd sooner die than let a fucking fictional character do this. Even if she was going to die for it.

“And you're an arrogant prick whose own personality made all the perpetuals run away from him, then his sons, who loved him above life, betrayed him, and his Great Plan went to shit.”

Yelena was panting like a wild animal caught in a trap. Her eyes were wide open, and although her view was partially obscured by the man's boot, she stared ahead with almost burning gaze. Her bloody face was contorted in a grimace that she had worn more than once when dealing with bad fathers.

“I can kill you at any second, and yet you are not afraid. All I can sense from you is rage. You are filled with hatred. You say I am arrogant, yet look at yourself. Too proud to yield even in the face of death.”

Yelena did not answer him. She merely clenched her jaw, waiting for a push to fix what should have happened when she jumped off that bridge. But to her surprise, no, shock, instead she felt the pressure on her head disappear and a strong hand grabbed her arm and lifted her to her feet. Oh fuck, how painful it was. Her muscles forced to move ignited, drawing a broken whimper from her mouth.

“The pain will go away soon.”

Easy to fucking say. Yelena had no idea what was going on until someone pushed her to sit on a armchair, clearly made for the measurements of primarchs, and a silk handkerchief was placed in her hand.

“Get yourself in order.” The Emperor muttered, resting his hands on the beautifully decorated table. “You mentioned two times that… how did you put it? The Imperium went to shit. What is the fate of humanity after my sons betrayed me?”

Yelena thought for a moment about telling him to fuck off after the way he treated her, but decided she didn't feel like testing her luck any further. “Ten thousand years have passed, you are immobilized on the Golden Throne, the Imperium is attacked from all sides. It is ruled by corrupt fanatics and the Inquisition… ah yes, the Inquisition are also corrupt fanatics.” With a quick movement, she wiped the blood from under her nose and moved her handkerchief to her chin. “Chaos is attacking with new power, on top of that new enemies have appeared - Tau, Necrons, Tyranids. You almost became the fifth god of chaos, and ten thousand years of constant torture probably destroyed your psyche to the point that you were probably no longer yourself. And also they made you into a god in whose name they kill others or even themselves.”

Fucking Lorgar.

Neoth nodded slowly. “What do you expect in return for your help?”

“Excuse me?"

“You don't want to help me kill potential traitors, so I expect you to help me stop them from descending into chaos. Death threats don't work on you, so I'm asking what you want from me in exchange for your help.”

Yelena thought for a second. “First of all, nothing will succeed without your help. Be their father, even if you don't see them as your sons. Teach them about the threat from the chaos gods, explain Warp to Magnus, help Konrad with his madness. Just… take care of them. Second - when the Great Crusade is over, don't kill them. Let them live in peace, in the way they choose. Third… if you decide to kill me after all this is over, I ask that you do it quickly. Don't send me to the Astra Militarum to die there, just kill me in my sleep. So that I don't have to suffer.”

“You're not going to beg for your life? You know that I am able to make you a lord of some rich pleasure planet, or give you a place in one of my offices. Why don't you beg for it?”

Yelena shrugged her shoulders. “You will do what you think is right. I only ask that if you decide you want to kill me, that you spare me the suffering.”

“It's a deal then. I will change my attitude toward my sons, and your death will not be painful. You have my word.”

She had no idea if he was lying. He had done it many times in the books, so she could expect pretty much anything. This time, however, she did not question him. If, after what she told him, he still decided, to be stubborn, there was nothing she could do. They talked for a good hour, where she briefly had to explain to him what tyranids and tau were, but in the end, perhaps seeing that she was actually barely keeping her eyes due to the exhaustion, he took pity on her, ordering the Custodian to escort her to her chamber. Unfortunately, she couldn't have a moment of peace here either, as she was caught on the way by none other than Horus. Primarch, of course, demanded an explanation, which she refused to give him until they were both in her chamber.

“Can you explain why you insist so much that we talk in private? You run like a rabbit from me.” Horus began, watching as Yelena sat down on the bed

“Because if anyone were to hear that you were responsible for the heresy named after you, which almost killed your father, placing his almost corpse on the golden throne and led to the death of most of the primarchs, one of us would be in a lot of trouble.” The girl fixed her green eyes on him, silently hissing in pain as she moved her aching body a little deeper into the bed.

“Oh”

“Oh, definitely. The corruption wasn't necessarily your fault, but what happened next… well. The death of trillions of people, with the Imperium in shambles. Also you killed Sanguinius.”

Horus stared at her in silence. She wasn't sure if it was due to disbelief in her words, or if he simply ran out of words.

“How do I know you're telling the truth? That sounds absurd. Even leaving aside my loyalty to my father, I would never hurt my closest friend.”

“The gods of chaos make mush out of your mind. And why would I lie? It was your father who first tried to boil my blood alive and then almost smashed my head with his shoe. All because I called him out and refused to give him your name, among other things, as a potential traitor.”

Silent footsteps sounded and after a moment the mattress next to her depressed downwards under Horus' weight.

“Why did you risk so much? And if it's true… what made me turn my back on my family?”

“Well… I think each of you has a chance to avoid this fate.” Yelena took one strand of hair between her fingers, trying to brush away the dried blood that was on the tip. “Your fall to chaos was the fault of Erebus and Lorgar. You were seriously wounded in battle and a ritual was performed on your dying body. Erebus appeared to you as someone you trusted, unfortunately I don't remember the name, and showed you a vision that after the Great Crusade was successful, the Emperor would rule as a god and kill the primarchs as soon as they were no longer useful. You believed this vision, and then after talking to Erebus, you joined the chaos gods.”

“Lorgar? How long has he been a traitor? Has he already become one?”

“Has the Monarchia been destroyed?”

“No.”

“So he hasn't become one yet. I have no idea exactly where in the timeline we are, but incydent in Monarchia was actually the beginning of what I know as the Horus Heresy. Erebus, on the other hand… well, he's been a pawn of the chaos gods basically since he was a child and is currently manipulating Lorgar.”

Another moment of silence from Horus. “We need to get rid of him, but we can't openly kill him without evidence. I'm guessing that father prefers that your… origins remain a secret, so I can't use your words as evidence. I also can't attack and kill him without reason, after all he is an acolyte of Lorgar.”

“We need to talk to your brother. And actually with all the brothers. If the original heresy can be stopped, there is a chance that another of its variants will happen. From what you said, Lion is already furious with your father for giving me so much freedom.”

“Don't worry about Lion, I'll talk to him.” Horus got out of bed and walked toward the door. “You'll have a chance to talk to the other brothers, because they're all coming together for the great feast father is throwing to celebrate the tremendous victories during the Great Crusade. I, Sangunius, Lion and Curze arrived first, but from what I've heard, Magnus, Guilliman, Vulkan and Perturabo should show up in a few days. The rest will show up within a month.”

“Oh Lord…” Bonus: The collage I created for Yelena. Yes, she was a singer and performed in the theater.

Author's note: I would like to apologize for going so long without a chapter and for this one being so short. A lot has happened in my life, and college has done to me what Vulcan did to Konrad using his teleporter, which was also a hammer. In addition, the writer's block is still biting me in the ass. The plot begins to slowly unfold, and I guarantee that not every primarch will be so friendly (calling Perturapo a “manchild”? what could go wrong). Tag list: @beckyninja @athenaremo @justfreakynothingelse @lukarus @synfiction @thatnightlamp @pirateshippers-first-mate @amoelcafe12345 @zyra-7 @walking-natural-disaster @vithralith @ihasnopen @mooniequeen @kit-williams @roxygobyebye