#i need terra to do it i know hes so warm

[tinydefector]

Human's effects

More a silly little thing that I had to write out.

Warnings: talks about sex, xenophilia, kinks

Word count: 3k

Masterlist

Next

Human Effects 2 - characters

Request are open

____

There were a lot of things that fascinated the cybertronians over humans. Their size, body types, skin tones and those soft they are. 

So many of them become so fascinated over the fact that such small and fragile creatures don't have plating to protect themselves but only wear soft fabrics. 

And it slowly leads a lot of Cybertronians to realising they were Xenophiles. 

A list of kinks and fetishes cybertronians discovered from it. 

-size kink 

-skin fetish 

- hair pulling 

- silk and ribbon play

- cum inflation 

-breeding

-pet play

- vore

-fluid play and consumption 

- spiking warming

- Heart and spark syncing 

- new spike and Valve modifications to test on their human lover

There's originally a lot of unknowns about humans, and cybertronians are rather intrigued, for one the first times the a lot of the crew of lost light had encountered them was on black market and high priced pets, and companions. 

There were exceptions such as Perceptor, Ratchet and Megatron who had been around humans before but for a lot of the bots this was their first time seeing them. that is until they are assigned a human communications, relations Ambassador/ liaison. 

But after the black market incident it had led a lot of bots into research over humans. And it just spirals more with them discovering some rather dark history with cybertronians keeping humans as playthings. And finding out their ‘interface equipment’ isn't that different from their own, just more organic and smaller.  

A late night of drinking at swerve slowly devolved into conversation over their local human. Brainstorm sits nursing his drink of engex while he and others of the ship chat away. "So does it fascinate anyone else over the fact that humans don't have natural plating or any kind of protection for their squishy form?" He brings up, he himself had fallen down the rabbit hole of human porn but didn't quite know how to breach the subject with anyone else. 

"Oh Primus, look who decided to join us, thought you were holding up with your Conjunx Chrome!" Swerve said with a chuckle, placing more drinks down. He hopped up onto one of the bar stools and leaned in eagerly, His attention flicks to Brainstorm. "You bring up a good point, Brainstorm," Swerve replied.

 "Those squishy humans are really something else, ain't they? No armour, no defences - I'd be scared outta my circuits if I was just soft protoform all the time!, like i’m so surprised squishy hasn't been stepped on yet" 

Rodimus nodded in agreement. "Yet they've managed to survive just fine so far. There's obviously more to them than meets the eye. Like i've seen some of the things our ambassador can do like the strange stretching"

"I dunno," Skids chimed in. "Seems pretty fraggin' reckless if you ask me. One good shot and it lights out!" 

Rewind shuddered. "Ugh, don't remind me. Just thinking about all those organics and tubes and who knows what else squishing around in there makes my fuel tank turn." He made a dramatic churning sound effect.

Riptide laughed. "I saw a nature documentary once about these hairless ape creatures the humans evolved from. Now THOSE guys were squishy."

“What in Primus have you been watching?!” 

“some old earth docs that Percy’s has, bots got a lot of info on Terra and the planet's history” The bots shared a collective laugh at the image. Swerve took a swig of his energon. "Frag, maybe there's something to be said about living on the edge like that! Sure keeps things interesting, its still strange that they are somehow one of the top predators of their planet yet are smaller than half the things they eat"

Brainstorm goes quiet for a moment. "Have you seen how flexible they are?"

Swerve nearly spit out his energon. "Whoa hey, I don't need those kinds of vivid imagery floatin' around my processor thank you very much!, keep the squishy interface vids to yourself" he said, waving his hands animatedly. 

"You have to admit, the way those fleshbags can contort themselves is pretty impressive," Skids added. "Must come in handy for.. maintenance." He waggled his optical ridges suggestively.

Brainstorm nodded pensively. "Indeed. Their non-metal structure allows for feats we could never replicate by ourselves." He took a sip of his energon. "Always makes me curious what other evolutionary adaptations they've developed to compensate for such vulnerability. The potential for scientific discovery is endlessly fascinating with their species and ancestors."

Riptide shrugged. "As long as they don't expect ME to try any of their bone-breaking yoga moves," he laughed. "This chassis is meant for tough stuff, not Twister!"

"You think they would be soft, you know if you interface with one?" Brainstorm asked while downing his drink, the engex was slowly going to his processor loosening his lips. 

"Oh don't give me that look I know for a fact you all have thought about doing with a human at least once! Rodimus I know for a fact you eye them up everytime our little liaison walks past you" He calls out Rodimus. 

Rodimus nearly choked on his energon in an attempt to look innocent. "Wh-what? That's not - I never -" he sputtered in protest, flustered optics darting around at the other bots.

Brainstorm smirked as Rodimus squirmed uncomfortably on the stool. "Oh please, don't try to deny it, Captain. You're about as subtle as a combiner in a supply closet." 

"Roddy's got the hots for squishy, who knew!" Swerve giggled uncontrollably. 

Skids nudged Riptide playfully. "Hey, maybe we got a xenophiliac on the ship!" 

"Alright alright, knock it off you glitches," Rodimus growled, though the blue flush across his face said otherwise. "I was just... curious, that's all. They ARE a strange species."

Swerve tried to contain his laughter. "Ohhh I bet you are more than curious, if you catch my drift!, wanna get up close and personal" More raucous peals of laughter from the group.

Brainstorm stroked his chin in thought. "They do feel intriguingly delicate. I wonder if their flexible frames would be more pleasurable to interface with than our own rigid forms..."

"Have you seen videos of them, they stretch a lot, like a lot, like I know human skin is resilient but i didn't think they were that resilient " Brainstorm states remembering some of the videos he had seen online. Other bots peak up intrigued. 

Swerve choked again as his fuel tank nearly turned inside out. "Brainstorm! That's... more than I needed to visualise, thank you very much." 

Skids seemed a bit less phased. "Fleshbags gettin' their twist on, huh? Can't say I'm not curious now." 

Even Rodimus seemed intrigued despite his earlier protests. "Resilient is an   understatement. I've seen some of the contortions that humans can do - it's astounding that their protoforms don't tear apart." 

Brainstorm nodded enthusiastically. "Precisely! With the right lubrication and technique, I hypothesise an interface with a limber human form would provide entirely novel sensory data."

Riptide shifted uncomfortably. "Not sure I'm ready to dive into the fleshy deep end just yet.”  

Swerve shot him a sly grin. "Aw c'mon Rip, live a little! Where's your sense of adventure?" 

Rodimus tried to steer the subject elsewhere. "Let's maybe change topics before someone needs a wipe down. Or Primus forbid, Magnus overhears you lot"

"I hope I did not hear what my processor just heard" Ultra Magnus states while staring down at the group of drinking mechs. A Lot of bots in the bar snicker at the group getting in trouble. 

"Come on Sir, get that wrench out of you aft, join us!" Skids called out.

Swerve let out an audible squeak at Ultra Magnus's stern tone, almost dropping his engex in panic. "U-Um, Magnus sir! Fancy seeing you here. We were just, uh, discussing..." 

He shot desperate optics at the others for help, but they all seemed to shrink down in their seats under Magnus's disapproving glare. 

Rodimus flashed an uneasy grin. "Just having a friendly debate about alien species, you know how it is. Brainstorm was bringing up some, er, interesting biological points..." 

Ultra Magnus sighed wearily. "I'd rather not know the details, thank you. Some topics are best left undiscussed in public."

The whole bar erupted into laughter at the group's misfortune. "Ah lay off em Magnus!" one patron called out. "They're just havin' fun!"

Another bot piped up. "Yeah, loosen up that rusty chassis and join us! One drink won't hurt." 

Magnus scowled, unamused. But as the encouragement grew louder, he glanced around hesitantly...

Swerve spotted an opening. "C'mon Magnus, live a little! I'll even give you a two-for-one special." He flashed a hopeful grin.

The enforcer grumbled but his resolve was cracking. Against his better judgement, he pulled up a stool. "One drink." Swerve whooped and poured him a double.

They cheer as Magnus sits down to drink with them. Skids speak up. "So brainstorm you saying you'd hook up with a fleshy, get nice and personal with a human" he calls out with a laugh.

Brainstorm leaned forward eagerly. "Why of course! The pursuit of scientific knowledge knows no boundaries. Though upon further review, direct interfacing with an organic might require certain, ah, safety protocols." 

Skids peered at him suspiciously. "Exactly what kind of 'research' are you plannin' on doing Brainy?"

Swerve nudged Riptide with a smirk. "I'll bet ya 20 shanix Brainstorm's just trying to find an excuse to get jiggy with the humies!"

Riptide snorted. "No way, I ain't takin' THAT bet!" 

Rodimus dropped his face in his palms with a groan. "can we PLEASE stop picturing Brainstorm fragging humans?" 

Ultra Magnus coughed on his engex, catching the comment he'd really rather not have heard. 

But Brainstorm paid them no mind, lost in scientific contemplation. "The human capacity for sensory input and feedback would provide a rich study on cross-species interface protocol adaptability..."

"INTERFACE PROTOCOLS?!" Swerve shrieked. The table erupted into howls of laughter at Magnus's deeply uncomfortable expression. It was going to be a LONG night indeed.

“Primus Brainstorm you kinky fragger” 

"Fine then everyone servo up if your not at least somewhat curious or thought about it at least once" Brainstorm calls out to all of Swerve's bars patrons

"Oooh, Brainstorm's putting us all on the spot!" Swerve giggled with gleeful mischief. He raised his servo without hesitation. 

Skids was quick to follow suit, slamming his half-empty glass down. "Frag it, I'll admit it! Those soft squishy bodies got me wonderin' what else they're good for." 

To everyone's surprise, Rodimus sheepishly lifted a servo as well, avoiding optic contact with Ultra Magnus. Riptide shrugged and joined in the show of servos, if only to blend in. 

The majority of bots in the bar started raising their hands amid roars of laughter and drunken encouragement. Only a select few hesitated, shooting nervous glances at Magnus. 

The enforcement officer's expression cycled through outrage, resignation and back to outrage as his gaze swept over the forest of raised servos. "I cannot condone such deviant interest in alien biologies," he protested, voice stiff. 

But as more servos stayed stubbornly aloft, Magnus sagged with a weary sigh. After a long moment, he slowly, begrudgingly raised one massive hand as well. 

The bar erupted into ear-splitting cheers. Swerve howled with glee, banging his fists on the counter. "Look's like we've all got a bit of xenophile in us after all! Even you, Magnus my mech!" 

Magnus buried his faceplate in his servos as Brainstorm cackled maniacally. Once the bar settles back down its Swerve who speaks up with a smirk on his faceplate. "So... which one of you charming mechs are gonna be the first to try and get our lovely Liaison?" He teases. 

Rodimus sputtered into his drink at Swerve's question, flushing brighter. "W-what? I never said anything about actually doing anything!, it's all just fantasies Swerve!" he protested in a hissed tone. 

Skids rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, well they do have a cute lil' figure. Bet they'd be a wild ride..." 

Swerve grinned slyly at Rodimus. "Aw c'mon Captain, don't tell me you ain't thought about it at least once! I bet they'd be real fun to break in, get all soft and pliable..." 

Rodimus smacked Swerve upside the helm. "Knock it off!" He shot a pleading glance at Ultra Magnus as if begging for rescue.

But unexpectedly, Brainstorm was the one who spoke up. "While the organic's flexibility is intriguing, directly interfacing could introduce unknown health risks or cultural taboos. Outside the fact our people have kept humans as pets and companions in the past. A more ethical approach would be gaining consent for strictly observational research."  

Riptide frowned. "Not sure the liaison would go for that either Storm" 

Swerve sighed dreamily. "Just imagine wrapping those soft squishy bits all around you though... bet they'd feel amazing..."  

"SWERVE." Magnus's warning tone silenced the cheeky bartender immediately. He turned back to Rodimus with a sigh. "Despite certain... Curiosities, directly engaging an organics  such a manner would be unwise, dangerous even, not to mention our form are much larger and could harm a human."

Rewind nodded gratefully at Magnus, relieved the subject was shifting. But the mischievous glint in Swerve's optic suggested his teasing wasn't over yet. It was going to be a long night indeed.

"Relax Mags I'm just riling these drunk mech up. Unless you're interested in our sweet little ambassador" he teases, making other bots choke on their drinks. 

Ultra Magnus's icy glare could have frozen Swerve's energon. "Need I remind you this conversation is highly inappropriate and unprofessional," he said sternly. 

But to everyone's surprise, Rodimus let out an undignified snort of laughter. "As if Magnus would ever break protocol like that! He'd probably recite the entire Autobot code of conduct while fragging."

The whole bar erupted in howls of mirth at the mental image. 

Swerve was nearly rolling on the floor. "Can you imagine?! 'Paragraph 3, subsection B clearly states interfacing with sentient aliens requires prior diplomatic clearance forms in triplicate!'" he cried in a mockingly stiff voice. 

Skids were wiping away fuel tears. "Primus if MR. RULES AND REGS ever broke the rules, it'd be one for the history archives!" 

Riptide jabbed Skids in the side. "Ten shanix says he'd have them memorising regulations the whole time!" 

"Twenty shanix says they'd run screaming first!" Swerve shot back. 

The bets and ribbing escalated as more mechs joined in. Across the table, Rodimus shoved Magnus playfully. "C'mon Magnus, live on the wild side for once!" 

Magnus's rumbling huff was the only response. Watching his rigid commander finally loosening up filled Swerve with delight. Somehow, some way, he'd find a way to get Magnus to break protocol yet! It was shaping up to be the best night ever.

"Ohhh let's make this fun. I list some bots and you say if you think they would hook up with a human" Riptide states. "Rung, Drift and Ratchet" he calls out the names.

Swerve let out a dramatic gasp. "Ooh spicy!"

"Rung is definitely curious but way too professional. Might let loose over a couple cubes of engex though!" 

Skids broke into hysterics at Riptide's suggestions. "Rung and a HUMAN?! Rung doesn't even touch his OWN interface panel!" 

Rodimus snorted. "Can you imagine? 'My dear, it seems you're experiencing some psychological interfacing blockers. Please, tell me how that makes you feel.'" 

"Drift guy's definitely intrigued by other species, if you know what I mean. Plus he's artsy so he'd probably appreciate the 'aesthetic'." Swerve responds

"Drift might go for it, he's open to new experiences," Rodimus mused with a grin. 

Brainstorm nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed, his spiritual philosophies suggest an openness to cultural exchange that others may lack. I think if he and ratchet weren't together its something he might try" 

"Ratchet. bah! As if that grumpy old rust-bucket would try anything so illogical. Unless she's a doctor too and starts quoting his favourite protocols... then all bets are off!" Skids laughed. 

"Ratchet? Nah, too much of a hard aft. He'd just bitch about human biohazards the whole time," Swerve giggled. 

"Well if Drift was interested I'm pretty sure that mecn could get ratchet to do anything with the bat of his optics" Rodimus remarks.

The table erupted in raucous laughter. Swerve took a playful bow. "Alright bring on the next victims!" 

Riptide rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, how about...Tailgate, Cyclonus, and Whirl?" 

Swerve cackled wickedly. "Tailgate would be way too nervous but he'd try for his Conjunx Cyclonus. Cyclonus would 100% use his broody vibes to charm her pants off but only for Tailgate. And Whirl? He doesn't interface, he destroys! So that liaison better watch her interfacing ports around that lunatic!" 

Chromedome interjects stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Tailgate would be way too nervous and shy, I think. He'd probably short-circuit just from holding hands!" 

Riptide nodded. "Cyclonus has always struck me as the kinky type. Wonder if he's into those squishy bits like Brainstorm thinks..."

"Whirl would frag anything that moves," Rodimus interjected with a grimace. "But I don't think an organic would survive the experience!"

Brainstorm stroked his chin. "Indeed, Whirl's interfacing protocol subroutines seem rather...enthusiastic. Consent might be a fleeting concept. Better to observe from a safe distance." 

Swerve shuddered. "Ugh, don't make me picture that psycho getting 'friendly' with a human! I'm tryna keep my fuel down y'know." 

The names continue being dropped. 

 " First Aid! I don't know if the medic-bot's got it in him to break the rules. But I betcha if he did, he'd be real gentle and caring-like. He'd have them feelin' better than new in no time!" 

Skids grinned devilishly. "Yeah but would they feel better? Aid's so straight and narrow I bet he'd put em in stasis lock from boredom!" 

"Now Perceptor on the other hand..." Swerve tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Bookish type, but you know there's a passionate scientist in there waiting to experiment. Think he'd go slow and methodical, really take his time 'exploring the specimen'." 

"his thirst for organic sciences might overpower his good sense," Rewind remarks. 

“optimus prime, Prowl and bumblebee ” Chromedome interjects with his own inquiries. 

Swerve pretended to wipe away exhaust fumes. "Primus help me, this is gonna be good... Optimus Prime is obviously Mister Morality himself, but you know he's got a secret wild side under all that virtue signalling. Just imagine how freaky he could get with some alien nookie!" 

The bar erupted in incredulous, drunken laughter and cheers. Swerve grinned impishly. 

"As for Prowl, I'm telling you that stick up his tailpipe is begging to come out and play. One roll in the berth with a naughty fleshy and he'd loosen up reeeal nice!" 

"And Bee? He's a sweet kid, but you know what they say, it's always the quiet ones! Between his cute lil' face and that tight chassis, he'd have the human lining up to frag that glitch right into stasis!" 

The bar absolutely lost it, bots falling over each other in drunken hysterics. Even Mirage was struggling not to fall off his chair. Swerve took an exaggerated bow as his audience howled. 

"Thank you, thank you! I'll be here all cycle! Now who's ready for the next round?" More shouts and clanking glasses answered his call. It was shaping up to be the wildest night at Swerve's yet!

 Magnus dropping Megatron's name that really sent them over the edge.

"Megatron?! With the liaison?!" Rodimus howled with laughter, nearly spitting out his drink. "That's the funniest thing I've heard all cycle!" 

But Swerve wasn't done. "Megatron? Now THAT'S an image! 'You pathetic fleshbag, you DARE try to mount the great Megatron?! Grovel before my interface array!'" 

Magnus adds more information which makes everyone surprised " He and the ambassador are rather close" He states

Rewind speaks up from Chromedome’s side. "Y'know... they do have a certain chemistry. I'll bet under all that scowling and chipped armour there's a softie just waitin' for the right tender touch to melt his spark. And they have got sass to spare  bet they could handle Megatron's brooding and snarl!" 

"Twenty shanix says he'd have them trembling and beggin' for mercy in no time flat!" Skids bet eagerly. 

"You're on!" crowed Riptide. "But I still think Perceptor's the real dark horse..."

[solbaby7]

Testing the Waters

pairing: rhysand x reader

[ 1 ] [ 2 ]

part 3 to the shy!reader massage mini-series

warnings: sexual content, minors DNI, massages, some swearing, probably typos

summary: Weeks of rubbing up on a certain High Lord is bound to build some tension.

—

“Need you to do something for me, bunny.”

There’s a feeling in your stomach at the pet name, bare toes digging further into the throw blanket and it’s instinctual the way your body rises to meet him, your book long forgotten. Rhysand doesn’t resist when you come ease his jacket from his shoulders and throw it over the couch. “Anything.”

His hands run over the back of his neck, head slowly rolling and the tension in his body is unmistakable. He doesn’t even bother asking you to go grab your oils or salts; Rhysand’s hand waves and it’s all laid out on the table before you. His clothes disappear with a lazy blink and the way the High Lord’s body drapes across the couch in your room was utterly boyish, boxers tight around his thighs. “Please? I always get the best sleep after these.”

You hum in acknowledgement, grateful for his face pushed into the pillows to hide the blush that blooms at the sight of his body. It never got tiresome; the rippling muscles that contracted whenever he adjusted or the gravelly tone that set in when you finally got your hands on him. It begins as a fleeting touch, fingers just barely grazing the smooth skin between his shoulder blades and his body goes still. “Try to focus on your breathing,” It feels weird as you say it, giving the most powerful male in all of the Courts a demand but Rhysand is quick to comply. “Gonna try something a little different this time.”

You’re not even facing him and you can feel the smirk that pulls on full lips. “Is that so? Maybe I should lie on my back instead.”

“You know, Cass said the same thing when I did this for him last night.” Rhys goes quiet a moment, violet irises tracking your every move like hunters did their prey, taking in the gentle tease of the pale purple hem of your nightgown against your thighs, the cute tapping of your toes against the terra cotta rug as you pulled out a black box filled to the brim with smooth rocks that were warm to the touch.

“And did you take him up on his offer?”

There’s a shake in your voice when you answer, skin blooming with heat at the nature of the conversation but you busy your hands with the little glass jars of oil, its contents significantly depleted. “That’d be highly inappropriate. He’s my friend.”

Rhysand relaxes instantly, clearly pleased with your response but his eyes still watch you as you prepare. Dainty fingers dip into a tiny little jar and you’re swift in the way you swipe it under his nose, the soothing scent of lavender filling his nostrils each time he breathed and he couldn’t deny the way it aided in his relaxation. “You’ve never thought about it?”

“Rhys,” It comes out so quietly you barely hear it yourself, skin going warm and you’re quick to sit on the back of his thighs before he can see the affect his words have on you. “You don’t usually ask me questions like this.”

“I’ve had a long week, bunny. Reports and responsibilities; things you don’t have to worry your pretty head about.” You try to focus on the crackle of the fire instead of the casual compliment falling off the deep rumble of his low voice, throat bobbing when he lets out a little chuckle. “Indulge me.”

Heated oils drips on his spine, a deep sigh releasing when you finally put your hands on him. Slow, smooth motions; easing the stress away from the broad stretch of his shoulders to the muscular taper of his waist. “Was that an order, High Lord?”

“No.”

It takes a second for you to work up the nerve to answer and you’re grateful he doesn’t push; taking the time to ease into the feeling of your palms gliding over golden skin. “Yes, I’ve thought about it,” You finally confess, thumbs pressing firm circles near the spot where his wings would sit.

A groan pulls from deep inside the High Lords throat and you can’t tell if it’s from your fingers or the shy admission but you don’t ask; too fearful of the feeling beginning to form between your thighs and you’re quick to readjust your positioning, rising to your knees to avoid any more contact than necessary. He was too handsome—smelled too good and felt like heaven beneath your fingers that you didn’t trust yourself not to grind down on the thick thighs beneath you if he’d asked a thing more.

Mother above seems to laugh at you, winking from above when the Lord of Night leans into your touch, one eye prying open to look at you. “Tell me what you think about. Tell me who.”

“My Lord, I really think—“

“Come on, bunny. I’m just Rhys when we’re like this; just tell me.”

You swallow thickly, hands stuttering to a stop on his back. “You promise not to laugh at me?”

“I’d never.” The seriousness in his words is all you need to nod a little to yourself, one hand bracing at his waist to lean over and grab the warm rocks he’d summoned. They’re smooth to the touch; retaining their heat and once they touch his skin, he finds them to be far more soothing than initially anticipated. “Cross my heart.”

Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, debating on if you were actually brave enough to do as he’d asked—not commanded. It felt like such trust; an opportunity to make him proud and you didn’t want to disappoint no matter how jittery it made you. “Sometimes, when I’m doing this,” You feel him adjust beneath you, head turning to the side and even though his eyes are closed you can still see that gentle furrow of concentration, waiting in anticipation. “—I think about letting my hands wander places I know they aren’t supposed to.”

He sucks in a sharp breath when your fingertip barely grazes under the waistband of his underwear and he’s acutely aware of the tremble of your knees on either side of his hips. He doesn’t want to say anything, violet eyes clamped shut as his mind wandered to just that, your soft hands coated in sweet oils wrapped around his cock, those shy eyes fluttering with wonder at the way he’d crumble to pieces for you.

A High Lord, completely at your mercy.

Rhys swallows thickly, voice so hoarse it’s impossible to miss the affects your words have on him and a confidence brews in your belly, words more sure when you proceed. “I think about what would happen the next time one of you jokingly asks me to strip down for my turn and I actually do it.” A smile works its way on your mouth when you see the way the High Lords brows crease, imagination running wild behind those lids.

“You think about doing that with all of us?”

Silence.

The gentle scrape of rocks against one another as you trail them up and down the sides of his spine, the oil slick and the warmth working out deep knots from the countless hours being hunched over his desk with a whiskey in hand and brain overloaded with information Rhys was no longer processing. “At the same time?”

The noise he lets out is positively sinful and you’re suddenly aware of his breathing beginning to quicken. “You can’t say things like that.”

“Forgive me, I didn’t understand.” But you did now, understood the underlying question behind his inquiry. “I sometimes think about it with Cass on nights he’s trained especially hard because he gets really vocal and sometimes those sounds are really hard to get out of my head.” Rhys hums in strained understanding, body relaxing but his hips keep shifting every now and then, fingers clamped tight around his biceps as he encourages you to continue. “Sometimes, I think about it with Az because when I’m doing an especially good job, he gets so relaxed that his shadows forget to obey and they start playing around in my clothes.”

Rhysand grunts but you take it as your hands doing good work, not the fact that he didn’t blame the slinking shadows; nearly subject to doing the task himself if you’d kept up.

“But you, High Lord,” It comes out breathless, hands stilling as if you couldn’t focus on touching and talking at the same time. “I think of you the most.” He physically shivers at the confession, fingers gripping so hard at his arms he’s sure he’s left marks but he tries to relax, forces himself to breathe and listen to the pure filth of such desires that hummed deep within your brain.

If only he could just slip past and look for himself—

“Especially that night with you in the tub,” You whimper, the noise sending filthy shocks of pleasure straight to his cock. The rocks clamber to the floor, his body twisting before you can comprehend his hands suddenly on your waist, violet eyes half lidded and so lust blown they’re nearly black. You can see the print of his arousal through the thin fabric of his underwear and you’re certain he’s clocked the way your tongue slides over your bottom lip. “Rhys.”

“Keep going, bunny.” His voice is wrecked, tone so low and commanding you don’t resist when strong hands ease you down on the thick bulge. He gives you time to deny it, to pull away and scramble off but it never happens.

“But—“

“You’re just helping, right? Helping your High Lord and this,” You follow his gaze to where both of you touch, the hardness of him pressed between your legs, the embarrassing wet patch that he’s surely felt seep through thin cotton. “I really fucking need this.”

The delicious drag of his hands guiding your hips over the rigid length of him, gaze eating up the way your lips part and your hands slip against his abdomen. "What about me in the tub, bunny? Tell me."

You don't understand how he expects such things from you when you can barely keep control over your body with such intense pleasure coursing through it. The friction of cock and cloth against your sensitive clit is enough to have your toes curling at the pressure, fingers digging perfect marks into your hips as you scramble through the brain fog long enough to remember how to form words and string together sentences. "Fuck," The slur doesn't even sound like you, eyes clamping shut and it takes great effort to remember what had been asked of you. "I've thought about it every night since; picturing what you looked like beneath all those bubbles."

"Was hard as a fucking rock the second you stomped to the door." He feels you clench around nothing, head falling back as you submitted to the pleasure and he genuinely has to hold back from finishing the second your hand slides up your own frame to grab at your breast. "Mother above."

He doesn't even have to guide your movements anymore, hips grinding into him with such hunger it makes the room darken; a deep, rumbling power filling the space and Rhysand actually moans when you don't shrink away from it. "Rhys, I'm—"

"Just a little more for me, yeah?" You catch yourself nodding along with him even when you don't believe you'll be able to fulfill his command. The burn in your stomach was near unbearable, mind stuck in a frenzy when warm hands bunch up the thin hem of your nightgown just enough to show off the wet drag of cloth on cloth. "So fuckin' pretty."

So eager to please, eyes glossy and half-lidded when you peer down at him, hands running over the defined muscles of his abdomen as your hips take on a pace that had the High Lord sucking breath through his teeth. "Thought about being the reason you made those noises. Wanted to use my hands," Your fingers drag over the strong planes of his chest, nails scratching just enough to leave a hint of a trail and your words carry a sultry drawl to them. "—my mouth too."

He's seconds away from release, skin on fire and hands eager in their exploration of your body over the silky material of your clothes. He trials up the length of your belly, fingers smoothening over the hard nipples poking through. The room smells of arousal, male musk and feminine desire twisting about the air so thick there'd be no way denying what had taken place if anyone had decided to walk in.

None of it matters though.

Not when you lean over, hands bracing on his chest and press a whisper of a kiss to his bottom lip.

The bruising grip on your hips leave only to pull your mouth back to his own, both of swallowing the others moans in and you can feel his cock twitch against you the moment your own release shudders through you. He doesn’t stop kissing you through it, hips slowing to a stop and you have to pull away simply to catch your breath before you pass out. “It’s your turn,” You huff out and you’re quick to smooth out the curious furrow of his brow. “To tell me what you’d been thinking about all those times?”

A feline smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I’d rather just show you.”

[solspina]

Into Good Night

mephiston ⋆˙⟡

a tiny blurb so the brain worms will stop eating at me until i can get a full story out. god knows if anyone has ever hugged this man, by the emperor i shall be the first. unedited as i just needed to tell myself a bedtime story.

a lack of rest is not easy or healthy for the mind of a psyker. resting once will not hurt

warnings: none, just fluff :)

rage, rage against the dying of the light

do not go gently into that good night.

but perhaps once, and only once, it would not hurt to slip under into a sleep like death. just a few minutes, mephiston promised himself. maybe it would not hurt to pass his time by resting instead of pushing himself to the very limit of his power, escaping the enveloping warmth of the rage right before it consumed him, again and again.

over and over.

the only other being that resided within his chambers was an assistant of his. they were one who carried around countless vials of blood, always prepared to drive them into the thick skin of mephiston in one of the many cases he had ever slipped too far.

but this being was only human, yet tasked with such a great responsibility. perhaps the rest that he took now was purely for their sake.

that’s what he wanted to believe, that he wasn’t engaged in the selfish and vile sin of resting. he was doing nothing good for himself by condemning himself to vulnerability in the arms of this human. and yet he trusted them with his life on a daily basis as he hung by a thread on the edge of his sanity.

they sat with their legs crossed on his bed, staring down upon him, and he stared back. his head was placed strategically in their lap so that they could brush and weave their tiny fingers through his long blond hair. he thought himself greedy for indulging in their affection, and yet they seemed to think the opposite.

they didn’t see the monster his brothers saw, nor did they see the paleness of his skin or the inhumanity that stirred in those glowing blue eyes.

they simply saw mephiston

or perhaps it was calistarius they saw

for they looked at him and smiled. not in a taunting way, not in a way that makes mockery of him. they saw through the emptiness and rage, and peered their own gaze into the heart of the man he was before he was reborn.

there had been nights that they had come to him seeking warmth, in which he had swiftly rejected at first. until a particular sleepless night that he had accepted their request to join him in his bed. the moment their warm stomach made contact with his cold and bare back, he had felt every ounce of anger, rage, and doubt fade from his mind like fleeting waves.

he was calm, serene, and at peace. a look of bliss had made its way across his features, his lips shifting away from his permanent scowl and into something akin to neutrality.

much as he did now.

their fingertips rubbed at his scalp, careful to avoid the metal pools within his temples as their light slowly faded, the tubes disconnected from his head. his eyes had long since closed, even as they moved to caress his face, their palms settling upon his cheeks as their fingers cupped his sharp and gaunt jawline, he did not move.

the psychic weight had completely faded from the air, as had the light emitting from his body. he looked near lifeless, but at peace.

they traced the scars that covered his shoulders as an after effect of the primaris surgery. it had been incredibly difficult for him to sleep since then, as they had only counted a few hours of proper rest for him over the past several months, for no more than minutes at a time.

they prayed he’d stay asleep, at least for the duration of a solar night around terra. it was easy to have an uneasy mind when you were deprived of rest, even as a psyker and primaris space marine.

they leaned down, placing their lips against the bridge of his nose before pulling away and joining him under the blankets as he breathed softly against the pillow underneath him. by some miracle, his skin felt some sort of warm and the perpetual furrow in his brow had completely disappeared.

just one time, go gently into that good night

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter Map Twenty-Eight

TW: nsfw, past traumas + mental health discussion, domestic violence mention

When you finally return to your apartment together you are tired, yet happy, with Tom’s hand engulfing yours, his other arm filled with takeout from your favorite Thai eatery and a bag full of fresh blueberries for his famous morning breakfast.

You feel like somehow, everything is going to turn out ok. You have this warm glow in your chest that you suspect might be an elusive thing like peace, or acceptance, or some other such nonsense this steadfast man beside you is making you believe in again. 

That good feeling disintegrates like cotton candy in the rain, when you realize your apartment door is ajar. Tom notices a moment after you do, and immediately he is pushing you behind him, the bags forgotten on the floor as he retrieves his gun from his ankle holster.

“Stay here,” he tells you in a whisper, as he goes to investigate. You watch while he uses the wall for cover, kicking the door open and advancing inside, sweeping your tiny apartment for intruders. 

You trail behind him after he tells you it’s clear, in shock for the mess before you.

Your apartment is trashed. Completely turned inside out. Destroyed. 

All the contents of your cabinets and drawers are emptied. Your chairs are missing legs. Your pictures are knocked off the walls. Your couch cushions are slashed. Every pot of every plant in your kitchen is broken on the floor, shards of terra cotta and earthy soil scattered across the linoleum. 

Numb, you stand amidst the rubble, finding it hard to process that this is your space. Your tiny little cozy cube that you’d made just for yourself, your personal hideaway from the world, broken to bits. It feels so personal, and you can’t fathom why someone would do this.

It doesn’t even look like they took anything. The tv is still there–with a kitchen knife through the lcd screen. You don’t own any expensive jewelry, or keep stacks of cash around. The only other real thing of value you have…is your laptop. It was on a side table, and now…it’s gone. Fuck.

If you are numb, Tom is furious, his dark eyes blown black with rage as he looks around your ruined sanctuary, his gun still hanging loose in his hand at his side.

“It’s not safe for you here, baby. See if you can get a bag together. If too much is ruined, I’ll buy you new stuff on the way.”

“Tom…don’t we need to call the cops or something?” You were sure you’d need a police report for your renter’s insurance claim, at least.

Bless him for not giving you that ‘I am the cops’ look. Instead his dark brows are drawn together in serious thought.

“Yeah. We’ll get a team to dust for prints. But I think I already know who did it.”

“Who?”

“Our shooters, sending us a message. I think I’ve got some names. Coates, and Freemont. Working on a location. With any luck…I’ll have ‘em by tomorrow.” 

You’re guessing just by his tone that have ‘em does not exactly mean due process.

He looks around at the chaos, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry, baby. We’ll fix it, I promise.”

You nod absently, still feeling disjointed from it all, though a well of tears has finally started gathering in your bottom lids. You shuffle over to your prized vanda orchids, picking one up and setting it in a pile of bark medium back on its shelf. At least it will get a little light, until you can repot it.

A warm pressure lands on your shoulder, then molds into the rest of you, engulfing your body in heat and comfort, and as soon as you are hidden and safe with your face tucked into Tom’s uniform, you begin to sob. 

Wordlessly, he picks you up, and makes to leave, probably deciding he doesn’t even want you to be here anymore because you’re such a wreck of a human that can’t even handle her own apartment being robbed, but your fist gripping his shirt and incoherent words stop him in his tracks. “My…My plants. My—“

“Shh, baby, s’okay. Forget the bag, I just need to make sure you’re somewhere safe…Hey. Hey, look at me.” 

You do, quivering and feeling as tiny as a broken winged bird in his arms even though you are a whole woman. There’s no pity in his eyes, just worry and something else. Something bright burning that lights his black orbs gold. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again. Maybe realizing this is not the right time to say what he wants to, but rather what you need to hear. 

“I don’t care what happens, you’re going to be safe. I don’t care if I have to burn this city down and then the LAPD along with it. I will do anything to keep you safe. Even if you do decide that I am an asshole and you hate me after all. I need you to tell me that you understand that. That you’ll trust me to keep you safe.” 

“I do,” you manage to choke out. “I do, Tom. Fuck, I do.” 

“And if there is anything. Anything you are keeping from me, then I need to know right now.” He pins you with that impossible to hold gaze…and you look down, earning a tsk. 

It was worth a try. 

And you know he means something you’re not telling him about the case, about the shooting, but all you can think of is Julian—cheating on Tom—how stupid you are. 

You lie. Right to his face. You lie, because you don’t know what else to do. “There’s nothing, Tom.” 

You know you’re lying, he knows you’re lying. Hell, the fucking dying plants know you’re lying. Luckily, it’s not hard to change the subject into more pressing matters, like how you’re sobbing uncontrollably again and burying your face into his thick shirt. 

Thank God that he is a good man. A good man who doesn’t get pissy with you about emotions. A good man who doesn’t tell you to cut the bullshit. A good man who holds you tight and mumbles words of comfort into the top of your hair. 

You don’t deserve him. Not one bit. So, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and hold on for dear life. Tom is wrong, he is not Poison Ivy’s boyfriend, nor Batman or the Punisher. He is Superman and you are a selfish, pathetic civilian who tricked him into loving you. He could be with Lois Lane or Wonder Woman, and here you are holding him back. 

***

“Y/n? Baby?” 

“I’m in here—the bathroom.” 

“Can I come in?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Hey, I—what in the hell.” An amused, lopsided grin cuts through the serious concern on his face as he looks down at you curiously. Probably wondering why you’ve taken every crisp, cheap hotel blanket and pillow and made a nest in the bathtub with them. 

“I like the hotel bathtubs,” you tell him, glowering, in such an obvious mood that a smile dare not even tap you on the shoulder lest you throttle it. 

Tom has other plans for your pity party. He chuckles, and leans down to kiss-whisper into your forehead. “I really didn’t think you could get cuter.” 

You flush, grab his collar, and pull him down, into the porcelain kingdom with you, not exactly thinking about how he is long and the tub is short. You just want his big solid body on top of you whether he breaks a leg or not, and thank god he’s sturdy. 

Because he bumps his head on the rim, slams his elbow on the bottom basin in an attempt not to shove it into your tummy, and both his legs end up hanging out the side by the knee joint in what looks to be a very uncomfortable position.  

“Jesus, I’m sorry,” you tell him, trying somehow to maneuver his heavy torso and put him back together. He laughs, maybe because you’re tickling him, and definitely because you’re so concerned about his well being. 

Somehow, you both situate, and it’s with you fully on top of him, curled against his chest with his legs bent in half so he’s able to barely fit inside the bowl. You bury your face into his pleasant, itchy stubble, and sigh contentedly. 

“Bathtub a safe space, hm?” 

You nod, and he gets it, stays silent with you wrapped up safe against him, occasionally humming, kissing your hair, running his fingers over the curves and pocks and shiver-inducing spaces in your back. Tom is not built for contortionist work at all, but if he is uncomfortable, he does not voice it. 

You wonder, as your eyes are fluttering closed and your breathing is deepening with the threat of sleep, if you should tell him that you can’t remember a time—ever—where you felt this safe. 

Usually…lately…it’s the bigger part of your brain—the one that is doubtful and cynical and self critical—that plays highest bidder in the auction of your devotion. Not here, in Tom Ludlow’s arms. Here, critical brain function takes a backseat in the trunk of the cerebrum locked inside a tight suitcase, because the rest of your mind (And Heart) is sure that this long man will burn LA down for you, just like he said. 

It's a heady feeling. Tonight, you’re just selfish enough to hold onto it. 

You wake up drooling on his uniform, feeling gross and hot and cramped and sweaty. His head is angled awkwardly against the hard walls of the bath, and you pat his cheek to wake him up. “Tom,” you whisper. “Tom.”

“Yeah, what—what’s up?” His snores cut off abruptly, and he jerks to life, restrained by the confines of the small enclosure. He smiles when he sees you, and you really hope it’s not because of your trainwreck hair and smeared mascara. 

“Can we go to bed?” You ask him, rubbing some drool off the side of his mouth. 

Except sleeping is the last thing you can focus on when he stretches his full body, bare out on the cool linoleum after taking his clothes off. For some reason, you think back to your neighbor, and how she was a strong lady for not having an instant heart attack when he knocked on her door in probably only boxers. 

Speaking of your neighbor…

“Did you talk to the lady next door? Is she okay?” 

He stands you up and pulls your scrub top off. “She’s okay.” A kiss to the spillage of your breasts. “She didn’t hear or see anything, but wasn’t home most of the day.”

“Do you think they’ll come back?” You ask him, sharp little breaths pumping your chest while he kisses up your collar, over the heaving skin on your throat. His fingers pull at your bottoms, discard them in a puddle with his own dirty clothes on the floor. 

“No,” he tells you, smoothing back your tangled, puffed hair. “No, they won’t. They got what they needed. I have some of your pajamas, you wanna put them on?” 

“No,” you reply, the word cut by a hungry kiss. 

Despite the day’s events, or maybe yesterday's events—you can’t tell, because it’s pitch black outside; the kind of devouring dark that only comes after midnight—your cunt still swells and weeps for this man, and you end up sitting on top of him with his cockhead nestling your cervix and his big hands digging into your plush hips. 

You’re too tired to keep a rhythm, or really do anything but whine and grind, but it’s enough to make you both cum and stain the sheets, even though you promised yourself you wouldn’t be the asshole person in the hotel room that gets bodily fluids on everything. It’s hard, however, to think about that—or anything—when this man is bare, hard, and leaking in front of you. 

He’s still softening inside of you when you fall asleep, and you don’t even stir when he gets a warm towel to clean you up, or when he wraps his arms around you and follows you into dreamland. 

The next time you wake up, there is invasive, awful sunlight peeking through the curtains, and you are screaming. 

Soak and wet, soapy Tom is by your side in less than a second, trying to wipe your tears and just getting your cheeks wetter with his mid-shower hands. “Baby…baby. Hey, it’s okay, I’m here.” 

You’re pathetic for doing this to him. A burden through and through. Your parents were right, the man who was just starring in your violent dream was right. They were all right about you and being too much and ruining lives with the burden of your existence. 

No, no no no no. You have to pull yourself back, get it together. PTSD nightmares be damned. It’s been a while since you’ve had one that bad, but you have the skills to rationalize through it and get off the ledge before these violent, hating thoughts eclipse reason and reality. 

Tom’s there to help with reassuring words and damp fingers and the heat of his body. He lets you cry for God knows how long, even with the water still running in the bathroom. 

The first thing you can say through ugly hiccups and heavy breaths is, “is the water going to get cold?” 

He murmurs a soft laugh into your cheek. “No, baby, they keep it warm. C’Mon.”

By the time you're freshened, cleaned, rinsed, and moisturized with little bottles of complimentary lotion by Tom’s big hands in what seems to be his way of soothing you, you feel a lot better. He even tries to brush your wet tangled hair, although it doesn’t work out because he’s way too gentle and afraid to do anything but press the bristles to your outer strands. 

When you rake it through to show him how, he snatches the paddle back, giving you a hard look. “You’re tearing it out!”

You laugh at him. “I’ve been doing it that way for my entire life, Tom.” 

“Doesn’t it hurt?” He holds the brush higher as you try to snatch it back. 

“Not really, my scalp is strong. Give me—“

The phone ringing stops your reaching hand midair. 

“Scuse’ me,” he grins, going to answer and taking your brush with him, obviously underestimating your ability to comb through it with your fingers instead. 

But you don’t, because you like it when he just barely pulls the tips through your locs, fingers tickling over your shoulders and neck and ears. It’s fine, he can brush it all day if he wants, especially if it keeps him holed up in this little hotel room with you. 

You put your wild mane into a loose bun on top of your head, brush your teeth, and grab the clothes you have prepared from the back of the toilet, not expecting such a familiar smell to waft from the pile and physically push you back two steps. You drop the cotton dress and the black shorts as your back hits the sink lip with a painful thud. 

You’d recognize that cheap, Walmart cologne anywhere. It could bring you back from the dead. Hell, it probably has a few times when he hit you hard enough to knock you unconscious. 

The stench puffs from your clothes in a billowy cloud that turns your stomach sour. You have to turn and lean over the sink, get your head right, close your eyes to guard against the onslaught of ruthless memories jostled by this abrasive odor.

Grounding yourself involves picking out three things you can see, and three things that you can hear. It's all you can do to prevent another panic attack. 

Tom’s muffled voice talking on the phone, the drip of a leaky faucet, the whirring air conditioner, the pristine white porcelain of the sink, the bright blue of your toothbrush, the open bottle of Tom’s cologne…Oh.

Trauma is a funny thing. Too many triggers happen too close together—it makes your brain play tricks in the quest to keep itself safe. Brain wants to hide, jump right back in the bathtub and lock this bathroom door and stay huddled up in the damp shelter for the foreseeable future. 

You grab Tom’s cologne and take a whiff, then breathe a heavy sigh of relief when you realize that the smell has the same musky undertone, but none of the gaudy sweet notes that your mind was fabricating. 

It wasn’t from your now wet clothes—they smell like your detergent, and you put them on despite the patches of liquid that cool your skin and make you shiver. 

You walk out of the bathroom, and Tom is sitting on the couch in his jeans and tshirt, legs spread wide, looking at something intently on his phone until his attention is captured by your presence. He looks so good, all sprawled out and formidable, and all you want to do is wrap yourself around him like a soft little koala hugging a thick eucalyptus. 

“Are you leaving?” You ask him timidly, arms crossed defensively against an answer you don’t want to hear. 

“No, I’m not,” he says.

“You can if you have to,” you tell him, lying, forgetting that this man can read you like the alphabet. “I know you have things to do.” 

He tilts his head at you, mouth perking up just a tiny bit in that way that makes your insides flare with fiery fervor. “How about you?” He muses, “you have somewhere to go?”

“Well,” you start, now that he mentions it, “I should go and clean up my place, maybe.”

“You could…” He seems to think on this matter, eyes darkening mischievously. “Or you could come sit on my lap.” He pats his knee, and you giggle at his usual antics.

“Mmmm…I dunno, Tom.” You attempt a sly, flirty grin, hoping you’re not resembling more of an awkward alligator than a pretty fox. Seductive feels a little strange for you right now…You might have to settle for the Koala. “Maybe you should beg me to sit in your lap?” 

Tom Ludlow, bless his heart, and despite all that testosterone dominating his personality, settles back into the couch cushions and submits to you. “Please, baby, please come sit in my lap. I need you.” 

It feels a little wrong—he’d be a bad actor—and it makes you giggle at him, covering your mouth to keep the snorts away. 

He pouts at you, and it makes you laugh harder, because he looks so adorable, and because a scary, big man should not look so adorable, and because you fucking love him and it’s driving you insane. 

You don’t realize he’s pulling you on top of him, falling back to the couch with you in his arms—you’re too busy laughing, then crying, although for an entirely different reason now. 

“Honey,” he whispers, pushing the wisps of loose hair away from your teary, sticky cheeks and letting you snot on his fresh, laundered shirt. “Honey, I’m sorry. I’ve got you.” 

But that’s the problem. He’s got you—your little thin skinned heart right in his strong hand, and it’s so ready to burst like an overripe cherry at any moment and kill whatever part is left of you that cares enough about human connection to let someone baby and shush and pamper you. You try to push him away, and he holds you tighter. 

“Tom…”

“No.”

“Okay,” you say around a sob, coiling up in his lap, giving in to clinging for dear life. 

[sleepyfan-blog]

Almach's Care

Author’s Note: This is the next part in the Raised on Terra AU! First. Previous. Next. A big thanks to @undeaddream for allowing me to borrow Almach and @kit-williams for letting me borrow Apollo!

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @sharenadraculea @i-am-a-dragon34 @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

Warnings: dehumanization of infants, dehumanization of infant primarchs Ask me to tag, if there’s something that I missed/bothers you

Summary: A typical day of Almach’s, since he’s been assigned to care for three of the infant Primarchs. 

“Come here, little one. You’re doing so well.” Almach encouraged, a warm smile appearing on the Blank’s face as he watched Primarch Eleven crawl on his hands and knees towards him. He was kneeling down on the very comfortable carpet that lined the room of the Primarchs’ Creche, and didn’t even try to hide the beaming smile, nor the pride in his voice as the tiny Primarch crawled over to him.

The much younger Blank paused for a moment, sitting down and going “Bah!” Reaching out towards Almach with both hands before yawning sleepily.

“Come on, young one. I know that you can get a little bit closer. You’ve done so well so far.” Almach encouraged, still smiling encouragingly at the tiny child. He had no idea how much he would come to adore the posting that he’d been given, but there was nothing else in the entire Imperium he would rather be doing right now, than helping to raise these amazing and sweet children.

Eleven yawned, rubbing one of his dark eyes with a curled little fist before going back onto his hands and knees and crawling the rest of the way over to where Almach was, flopping down next to him and rolling onto his back, waving his arms and feet in the air with a happy little giggle. “Hehehe!”

Almach beamed brighter and he carefully scooped Eleven up, murmuring quietly “You did such a good job, little one.” The Emperor of Mankind had yet to see fit to give them names, and the Sigilite was deferring to Him as to the matter of names. Privately, Almach had begun to ponder nicknames to call his wards, as it left a very bad taste in his mouth to keep referring to them by numbers, rather than to give them some kind of proper name. 

“Abababa!” Eleven babbled cheerfully up at Almach before he shoved his fingers in his mouth, gumming on them industriously. 

“That’s not good for you, little one.” Almlach corrected gently as he carefully pulled the tiny Primarch’s fingers out of his mouth.

A small frown appeared on the tiny Primarch’s face as he tried to shove his other hand inside of his mouth.

Almach patiently blocked him from chewing on his other fingers. He grabbed one of the teething toys and gave it to Eleven “I know… Growing teeth isn’t any fun at all. But biting your won fingers won’t help you either, little buddy.”

“Bababah!” Eleven babbled,s seemingly in response before starting to gnaw on the teething toy, the cooling properties of the toy helping to numb the pain from the infant’s growing pains. 

~

Five was one of the best crawlers of the Primarchs, from what Almach noticed. No, he wasn’t biased towards his primary wards, how dare anyone accuse him of such. Five had been one of the first to start crawling, though Six and One had been close second and third. One and Six also liked to try and bite him, whenever they were out of their cribs and able to freely move about their creche. 

Six would baby growl at him, his blue eyes almost luminous, despite his Blank aura, clearly convinced that he was an Enemy that needed chasing off. It certainly didn’t help that he and the Custodian who was in charge of caring for Six and One did not get along very well, though ALmach tried to be polite and cordial to the powerful warrior, keenly aware that were the two of them to come to blows, he was likely to lose such a fight. One hissed at him, bright green eyes glaring mistrustfully at him from whichever corner he was hiding in.

An amusing thing is that One had to defend whichever slightly darkened corner he was lurking in from a number of his fellow Primarchs, most often Eight, Nineteen and the twins. But, given that those five primarchs were apparently meant to hold secrets, were meant to use stealth tactics, and were to be the spymasters of the Imperium once they were old enough and trained enough, this was not surprising.

Almach had learned to keep a close eye whenever Five was out of his crib - especially as some of the other caretakers were near the door, as Five was very fast and had a penchant for trying to crawl at top speed towards whichever open door, window or open vent cover he thought that he could get through.

Scolding the little one did nothing, as the dark haired baby would just stare impassively up at him with hawk-gold eyes before continuing to do whatever it was that he had wanted to do. Five seemed to be fascinated by Fifteen’s nascent shape-shifting abilities and would sit near his brother and watch him for hours, when he wasn’t trying to escape out of the room at any and every opportunity. 

Almach had asked if he would be allowed to bring his charges out of their room, to broaden their horizons and experiences a little but apparently there was an impending threat to the Primarchs that required that they stay in the most heavily guarded section of the palace at all times until the window of danger had passed.

This had led to Almach sleeping in one of the very comfortable chairs meant for himself and his fellow caretakers whenever he wasn’t awake and caring for his charges, or helping the others wrangle their own charges, as his nightmares when he was away from them as to what might happen… Especially to young Eleven, who had all the makings of the most powerful Blank to ever exist among Humanity… 

He had to stay close, and guard them carefully.To keep both eyes on them and devote every spare bit of energy and care he had to each of his three precious charges, and to aid in the care and raising of their brothers, so that they had the best possible start to life. Not because of the grand destinies awaiting them, but because the galaxy was a cruel and unforgiving place, especially to Pariahs, and he did not wish a fraction of the misery he’d gone through before The Emperor had found and saved him on anyone else.

“Bah!” Five called out, gently poking one of his cheeks with a tiny finger. 

A rueful smile appeared on his face and Almach hummed “I’m sorry, my little Sparrow, was I not paying attention to you? What is it you wanted to show me?”

Five leaned into Almach instead, pressing one small ear near where his heart beat, tiny hands coming up to grab onto the fabric of his shirt, golden eyes closing shut, as a happy sigh left the infant. “Mmm…”

Almach beamed, his heart achingly full of affection as he pressed a fond kiss to the top of Five’s head, one hand coming up to support the little one as he leaned over to one side slightly, snagging a blanket to lightly drape around FIve’s tiny body. “Ah, alright. Naptime I guess.” A yawn left the Blank and he carefully scooped up the little Primarch, walking over to a chair and settling in to allow Five to sleep - Elven and Two were playing with Seventeen, Ten and Fourteen, while Thirteen and Seven quietly parallel played near each other. Four was watching Thirteen and Seven play, grabbing a soft toy and butt-scooted over to seven, placing the plush toy next to the neat pile that Seven had made.

~

“Heeere comes the Thunderhawk! Brrrrrrrrooooowwwmmm… And open your mouth, sweetling! That’s it, it’s breakfast!” Almach cooed as he slowly brought up the spoonful of densely nutritious and carefully balanced baby food up to Two’s mouth, getting the little Primarch to open his mouth.

“Abha?” The Tiny Primarch babbled before the spoon entered his mouth. The little one made a face and turned his head away from Almach, the contents of the spoon smearing across one chubby cheek. 

Almach sighed, gently scraping the baby food off of Two’s cheek with the side of the spoon and tried again with a different colored bit of mashed food. None of it smelled very appetizing to him, but he’d been told by no less than a half-dozen nutritionists who were part of the Primarchs’ medical care teams, that these baby food had been specifically formulated to support their growth and immune health.

The fact that it smelled like it tasted of bland vegetables and sadness was simply a result of having the best of the best food available to feed the little ones. They shouldn’t deal with something as stimulating as food spices beyond a little bit of salt for water retention purposes for reasons that he had been assured were very good. Avoiding honey at this age, he did understand… But surely they should get something that tasted a bit better? 

Two was the fussiest eater of his trio of charges. While he would eat as much formula as Almach would let him drink in a feeding, Two had definite opinions on what he was fed from the carefully curated selection of food mashes that were supposed to be fed to the infant Primarchs. “Muh… Muh!” The little Primarch protested, turning his face away as Almach tried feeding him another spoonful of the vegetable mash.

“Come on, it’s good for you, little one? … No? Maybe we will like this fruit mash a little better. It’s sweeter, at least, from what I can smell.” Almach sighed, clearing the spoon of the ground up vegetable paste, and switching over to the fruit-mash. 

Two immediately focused on the paste being offered to him and ate every bite of it, babbling happily between bites. After that, he did have several bites of the vegetable mash before turning away from the spoon once again. Two started trying to escape the feeding chair that Almach had put him in, trying to wriggle his way to freedom.

A sigh left Almach and he carefully wiped the baby’s face and hands before unstrapping him from the feeding chair and putting him down to go play with the brothers who’d been fed in the previous hour. “Alright, there you go, young one. That’s enough food for now, I guess.” He noted down in Two’s food journal what he had eaten, what he had refused, and how much he’d eaten before washing everything up and getting Five’s food ready.

~

“... How did one like you become part of the care team for the Primarchs?” Apollo demanded, his eyes narrowing as he glared down at the Blank, arms crossed over his chest as he watched as the other was attempting to care for one of his charges.

One wasn’t having any of it, however. The tiny Primarch was growling and swatting at him, the three baby teeth that he’d managed to grow in bared in a valiant attempt to be ferocious. One had woken up unexpectedly from his nap and had been crying.

Apollo had been on his way over to care for the little one when the Blank had shown up first, and had attempted to check One’s diaper, in case he needed to be changed. 

“And just what does that mean?” Almach asked, glowring up at the giant golden fucker, trying to avoid angry baby fists in order to care for him. “Mind helping me change One? He needs it, and if he keeps being this noisy, he’ll wake up all of his brothers.” He kept his voice light and calm and quiet, despite the irritation bubbling under his skin. 

“Pariahs aren’t known for their social skills. Move, he dislikes your… Everything, and for good reason, considering how unpleasant you are to be around.” Apollo growled to the mortal blank hip-checking the other out of his way, before reaching into One’s crib.

The infant primarch started to calm down, now that the idiot Blank was out of his immediate sight line.

“See? He’s gone now. I’m here.” Apollo attempted to soothe the still unsettled little Primarch, running a couple of fingers through short blonde hair, ignoring the way that he’d sent the Blank sprawling to the floor. 

“You fucker! That hurt!” Almach hissed in indignation, staggering back up onto his feet. He glowered at the Custodian for several moments, internally debating on whether or not he should respond in kind… But Apollo was currently in the middle of cleaning up One… And the Blank was keenly aware of the fact that there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell he was going to win a fight with a custodian one on one. 

The Custodes smirked down at him before saying “Hand me the clean diaper you were clumsy enough to drop, would you?”

Almach’s glare intensified and he viciously picked it up before throwing it at the large gold fucker’s head “Fine, bastard.” 

“Mm, of the two of us, I know who both of my parents were, and had been well-loved by them before being chosen by Him to become one of His Companions. I’m not sure what gutter He found you in.” The Custodian taunted, a cruel smirk on his face as he finished cleaning up One, tossing the dirty diaper at Almach “Dispose of that for me, would you? You are capable of following basic instructions, yes?”

A low, frustrated growl left Almach and he just barely managed to catch the dirty diaper before it opened and caused a larger mess to clean up later. He silently stomped over to where the disposal chute was and threw it away, still scowling heavily, muttering to himself “At least I don’t have a twelve-foot pole shoved up my ass, making it difficult to do the job I signed up for.”

Apollo turned to glare at Almach, his voice glacially cold “And just what do you mean by that? I am following mission parameters. You are the one who has been coddling the -”

“Don’t you fucking start with that again. Human infants need physical touch and to be held regularly, or they will die. It’s been well-documented that infants who don’t receive the physical comfort and care that they need suffer later in life. If they are starved of too much physical touch and affection they will die of loneliness. We are a social species, and that has not been genetically cut away from the infant Primarchs. They are still human. Elevated far beyond what I, as a humble baseline could ever hope to be, but human nonetheless.” Almach growled, his eyes narrowing a little. After his younger sibling had been killed because they had been a Blank and had been caught out at the wrong time… He had sworn that if he’d ever been put in charge of other Blanks in any capacity, he would do his utmost to care for and protect them.

And Eleven had the makings of being an incredibly powerful blank. He would doubtlessly struggle in social interactions with non-Blanks, possibly for the entirety of his life due to the nature of being a Pariah, but Almach intended on giving Eleven the best chance he could to succeed. 

“I do give my charges the touch that they require. You indulge all of the Primarchs far too much. They are meant to be our Lord’s best and greatest generals. To help him in conquering the galaxy and bringing it into the dominion of Humanity. It’s possible that some of them may die during this most Glorious of purposes. Coddling them and being so soft on them will not do them any good in the long run.” Apollo pointed out, shaking his head a little “I did take the same childrearing classes that you did. But coddling them runs the risk of blunting them from being the weapons they are supposed to be.”

Almach ground his teeth together, trying to swallow down the words that beat in his breast. These were children. Infants. Genetically modified and enhanced yes. But that did not make them weapons of war, and treating them as such would only cause far, far more problems down the line. But to say that out loud directly, would get him pulled off of the Primarch Project… And very probably killed or imprisoned. “Just because they are meant to be living weapons, does not mean that is the only thing they can, or should be. Allowing them to become full people will encourage their loyalty to Him, and ensure that they are more useful in a variety of ways, rather than simply as tools of war.” Almach hated, hated referring to the Primarchs as tools, but that is what He viewed them as, and He had said as much.

“... I suppose those points do have merit. I will ponder them. For being a quarrelsome Pariah, I do admit you have moments of cleverness.” The Dread Spear murmured, a thoughtful expression on his face before turning away from Almach, as One had settled back into sleep.

Almach closed his eyes and counted to twenty twice, as the wildly foolish urge to attack the Custodes after the other had turned his back to him clawed at his self-control. He would care for his charges and their brothers to the best of his abilities. He had to keep his temper, if he were to stay on the team caring for them, so he let the Custodes leave without another word.

[ms--lobotomy]

I wanna smoke with Angron so we can get high and he eats me out

This one's for you and @undeaddream. I can fix him, (puts a bong in his hands) (sorry this came out on 4/21, the edible was sensational though)

Summary: You smoke a bowl with Angron to try to get the nails to stop hurting him.

Word Count: 1865 (oops)

Content Warnings: drug use, sploinkin' (nsfw), this is my first time writing Angron so I tried, blood, more "good girl" talk because I go absolutely apeshit over it, what I assume is rough sex, female reader so sorry if one of my lovely requesters is not a girl, I can write another version where you smoke him out and it doesn't get wild (like this at least)

Image Credit: @squishyowl (doubly tagging you because you did want an Angron fic at some point. Teehee!)

There wasn't much outdoor space in the Imperial Palace. You were situated on a bench big enough for Primarch or human, on the terrace at the top of your client's wing. It was far overgrown and untrimmed, it was clear that not many visited this area. The single moon of the planet was out tonight, tinged slightly yellow. There was a slight breeze, and you closed your eyes as you felt it on your skin. You had a job to do, the largest one you've ever had at that, but it was nice to be outside tonight.

"You here?" you heard someone bark from behind you. You snapped your head around to see none other than your client, a man--no, demigod-- by the name of Angron. Steel implements extruded from his head, and he bore a pained expression. Scars adorned his face and neck; the rest of his body was obscured underneath brass armor. He was accompanied by a few of his sons, helmed men equipped with bloodstained armor.

"I'm here," you replied, shrinking back into your flesh. He was large, very large. You'd heard of his temper; if you were to mess up even once, you would likely be ripped in half.

No matter. You pulled out your equipment. You had a bottle of water, a funny-looking glass implement, a fancy little lighter with an imperial Aquila on it, and a grinder full of a green flower cultivated on ancient Terra. You were one of the only researchers on the planet that dealt with ancient botany. You were told sometimes that you were one of the best, but if you were to come into contact with Angron, you were clearly more disposable than the others had let on.

He stared at your materials, coming in closer. "What's that."

"Oh!" you exclaimed. "The glass thing is a bong, and--"

"What kind of name is that."

"It's..." you started, your face going warm. Oh no. "It's just what the ancient Terrans called it."

"Do you think it'll help?"

You paused, and looked up at him. His eyes were garnet red, and he stared with an intense expression. He fiddled with his gauntlets a little bit.

"I'm not sure, to be quite honest," you replied. "But it's safe, and trying it will at least not hurt. Unless..." you paused, looking at him. "On second thought, you might need to take bigger hits than me."

"...You're supposed to hit it?" he asked, looking at the glass tool. As he wound up to throw a punch, you put yourself between it and him.

"Not like that!" you exclaimed. "It's how you inhale the smoke. See, you're supposed to mash up the flowers, put them in the bowl and burn them while you inhale."

"And this is supposed to make me feel better?"

"Well... maybe," you said. "It's not going to hurt you to try, at least!"

"If you say so," he sighed, rubbing his temples as you prepared the first bowl. You ground up more of the bud. When it was finally shredded, you put it in the bowl. You felt his stare at your side, but you didn't know whether it was at you or your equipment.

"Here's how you do it," you said. "You put it up to your lips, and inhale..." your voice became muffled as you put it to your lips. You stroked the lighter a few times before a flame came out, lighting the shredded flower on fire. As you inhaled, you felt smoke filling your mouth. When you felt like you couldn't bear it anymore, you exhaled.

"And... exhale," you said, a substantial cloud of smoke leaving your lips.

"Just like that?" he asked.

"You may need to inhale for longer, but yeah," you said, handing off the bong. "Here. Take a hit while it's still burning."

He put his scarred lips to the mouthpiece and inhaled, far longer than you could. He exhaled, a cloud more befitting of a man of his statue escaping him. His furrowed brows raised, and he nodded a little bit.

"Can you light it up again?"

You lit the bowl up as he inhaled again. This time he held it in a little bit before he let it out. You'd debated on telling him whether holding it in would do anything, but he would probably be okay... okay as he could be, at least.

"I..." you started as the pungent cloud hit your face. "I think we need to put more in the bowl." You gestured to the bowl, which was beginning to deplete. You looked up at Angron, whose expression was starting to relax further. After you'd taken a hit, you passed it to him.

The next few hours became a blur. You'd passed the bong between the two of you, getting higher with each puff. At some point, he'd pulled you in next to him, putting a heavy arm around you while you were smoking. You leaned your head on him, the metal cool against your flesh. Soon, one of you put the bong down between you.

"Leave now," he barked at his sons. They immediately turned around and went through the door at the other end of the terrace.

"How are you feeling?" you asked, one of his hands running through your hair.

"Not great," he admitted, "but better."

You looked up at him. His sclera were reddened, but yours didn't feel much. Despite how high you were, you'd been smoking long enough that this wasn't an issue anymore. He was looking down at you with something you hadn't seen in him before. Something you couldn't quite put your finger on. You saw him lean down to your level and plant a kiss to your lips. You put a hand to his armor and leaned in as he added his tongue, barely fitting in your mouth. He was rough, unpracticed. After a while, he pulled away, grasping for your hands. His expression was still stern, but there was a reverence in his eyes that you hadn't seen before.

"My Lord?" you asked, shivering in your seat.

"Angron," he corrected you. Even his voice bore the scars of his previous life, something you've all but heard of. He got up and knelt in front of you, still towering over you. He then went in again, his large hands grabbing at the fabric of your shirt. You let out a pitiful moan as you lifted your arms, letting him take it off of you along with your bra.

He bit your bottom lip, and you let out a little cry, grabbing for his shoulders. He wasn't gentle, and you knew that it was going to leave a mark later. He pulled back. A little bit of blood fell out of your skin, and he smirked. He pushed your hands back with his, pushing them behind your head as he bit you lower and lower, sometimes drawing blood.

"Be careful," you cautioned as he stopped at your nipple. He swirled it in his mouth as he looked up at you, grinding it with his teeth, but thankfully he did not draw blood there. He did the same thing on your other side, and you cried out, your hands tightening around his armored ones.

He bit your on your stomach a few times before he tugged at your pants. He shifted a little bit, hitting the bong with his knee and knocking it over. You looked down there for a moment. It wasn't broken, praise the Emperor. You raised your hips, and he pulled them off roughly, ripping them in some areas along with your underwear. He leaned over to snarl in your ear, giving you goosebumps.

"Good girl," he said, prying your legs open. Moans led to shrieks as he began to feast, roughly rubbing your apex as he held you down by the waist. He explored you as you came on him for the first time, trembling under his touch.

"Nngh... Angron..." you moaned, grabbing at the sides of the bench. As you were working your way up to your second climax, he pulled away.

"I may need to pull off my armor for this one," he said, peeling his gauntlets off first. You watched as each piece came off, falling to the grass with a loud thud each time. He ripped off his bodysuit, leaving the tattered fabric on the dirt. He was just as scarred over the rest of his body, scars trailing along everywhere. As he knelt down in front of you again, you absentmindedly touched one of them rippling across his chest. He grabbed your wrist, and your heart stopped in your throat.

"I'm sorry--" you started before he led your hand along the scar.

"This one was from right after the nails," he said, an almost-grimace on his face. He trailed your hand to another one. "And this one was--"

"Are you sure you want to get into this?" you asked, your other hand shakily finding its way to his face. He leaned into it, not unlike a cat would, and closed his eyes.

"You may be right," he said, his hands finding their way onto your shoulders. His grip was tight and rough, even this was going to scar you. "Let's finish the job then." He had a smirk on his lips as he moved his hands to open your legs again. You whined as he rubbed himself against you, before finally slipping himself in.

He immediately went in as far as he could, eliciting a little scream from you. "A-Angron!" you exclaimed as he pulled himself out before ramming himself into you again. Your face scrunched up in pleasure, and you grasped for anything you could reach before your hands trailed towards his chest.

He grabbed your waist, pulling you off of the bench and onto his lap. He sat up as you straddled him, pushing you on and off of him. Your eyes rolled back in your skull and your face lay against him. He wasn't gentle, you knew that you were going to feel it the next day. You came on him a second time, shivering as he sped up with you. He started grunting as well, a deep, guttural noise.

Not long after he came in you as well, twitching inside of you. You felt each twitch as he filled you up. He remained in you, but there was a little bit of white liquid coming out of you. He wrapped his arms around you, pressing your head into his chest as he panted. You wrapped your arms around him as well, but you couldn't reach your way around him. He ran a hand through your hair as you spoke.

"Are you doing okay?" you asked, your voice small and tired.

"Please, let's do this again," he rumbled.

You had done your job somewhat, but you weren't going to tell your higher-ups that you had relations while on the job. In fact, you might lose your place if they found out. Sure, you had the backing of a Primarch, but your superiors might still have a problem.

You ran your hands along his back. "Of course."

[jaune-submissive-and-breedable]

Jaune was alive was all Saphron could think about, her baby brother was alive. But now he wanted to leave again and go into more danger, oh no that was not happening. So she talked with her wife Terra and she agreed that it was better if he stayed. That night the married couple took him to their marital bed and showed him why he should stay. He would be their good boy from now on.

Saphron Arc frowned as she stared at her dinner, thought of what she just heard plaguing her mind

"I'm going on Grimm patrol tomorrow.." her baby brother, Jaune, told her. The look of pure determination on his face

"You can't!" her wife, Terra cried out, slamming her fork on the table "You were gone for months....lost in Oum knows where, and NOW YOU'RE GOING TO RUN BACK OUT THERE JUST WHEN YOU FINALLY CAME HOME!"

Tears began leaking from her eyes as she stared at the blonde

"We thought you were dead.......your entire family thought you were dead.....You just can't leave them....us....Adrian feeling like that again"

Jaune shook his head and sighed deeply. His deep blue eyes locked on hers.

"That's the point, Terra....If I don't, then who?" With that he stood up, leaving the table. he only got a few steps in before collapsing onto the ground, his entire body numb.

Saphron rose from her spot at the table and made her way towards her brother, discarding her pants as she did. She watched as he tried to ask what was happening to him, but the numbing agent she mixed in his food prevented him from speaking. She turned him over so he was laying on his back, and straddling his lap she stared into his scared cerulean eyes

"I'm sorry Jaune. I knew we couldn't convince you, no matter what we said.." reaching down, she unzipped the fly of his pants, fiddling with his underwear, and pulled out his flaccid sex organ. slowly stroking him. "So...We'll have to take matters into our own hands. I can't lose you again..."

Once he was sufficiently erect, Sahpron raised herself til she hovered over his cock, breathing nervously since she was about to rape her own brother to keep him safe. She looked to Terra who nodded at her actions. Sliding her underwear to the side, she lowered herself onto him, gasping at the sensation of having a cock filling her vaginal walls.

"It's for your own good jaune," She told him, and herself as she slowly ground her hips into his. Her lips parted releasing small moans from her actions. It was long before she increased her speed and rode him silly.

Terra played with herself as she watched her wife grinding frantically against her brother-in-law. A small part of her felt jealous that it wasn't her. It was no secret she had feelings for the boy, it was evident when he impregnated her with Adrian. She wished he would do it again under, more preferable conditions, but she needed him to stay. If drugging him and raping him daily would keep him with her then so be it. He would come to accept his new life with time. After all, it was for his own good.

Jaune cried as he was forced to watch his sister violate him. He wanted to push her off, scream at her to come to her senses, or maybe even call for help. Sadly thanks to this drug, he could only lay there and watch Saphron stare into his eyes as her climax approached. And his own, much to his shame.

With a final grind, Saphron gasped surprised as she felt his warm seed flooding her canals. Sperm drowning her eggs and pushing itself out the same way it went in. Thanks to his genetics, she was for sure impregnated, and if not, they had all day to try again.

Slide off his cock, which thanks to his aura, was still erect and ready for more, she nodded at Terra. the tan woman hurrying over and planting herself on his sensitive organ. Crawling over to Jaune's face, she gentle kiss lips, and wiped away his tears.

"It's for your own good." she whispered before leaning in for another kiss.

___________________________________________________________

3 months later

"Yes....I understand....Please stay safe...Adrian would hate for his two favorite people to get hurt" Saphron said into the scroll, "And I'll tell Jaune you two sent your greetings"

After the call ended, She made her way to her and Terra's bedroom. Looking inside, she saw her brother, lying on their mattress motionless.

"Lian & Nora sent their hellos," She said, slowly stripping away her clothes, revealing a growing baby bump in her stomach. "The said they be by later tonight"

As she grew closer to the boy, it was event that he was not the same as he was. He was completely naked, the spark he once had in his eye now gone and his hair longer and messy. As she touched his body, he flinched, the rattling of metal made audible by his movement.

Saphron frowned see this, having thought he'd learn by now, "Jaune...please....We all want what's best for you."

She turned her head to the bound and gagged Oscar in the corner, desperately trying to escape.

"What's best for both of you"

______________________________________________________________

Also if the ending is a bit confusing, LIan and Nora knows what happened to Jaune, and are active participants. At some point tied up Oscar with the intent to do the same

[novankenn]

Date-Day ... T-minus 36hours 23minutes

A snippet from "a Mafia" AU

Pyrrha didn't know what it was, about the Arc siblings, that caused her to feel out of sorts around them. Well she knew why she was that way with Jaune, though she would never give either her heart nor her mind the satisfaction of admitting it out loud. But Jaune's seven older sisters? She had no clue.

It wasn't like they were treating her badly. In fact they have been very welcoming to having Pyrrha around as Jaune's "bodyguard", But there was still something off about those seven women, and Pyrrha was about to voluntarily speak to the third oldest... about dating advice. Her heart fluttered at the thought of really holding Jaune's hand, and her mind... well her mind was a depraved and lewd place that she didn't want to touch right now.

With a slightly shaking hand, which was strange for Pyrrha as she was known to have ice water in her veins, and nerves of steel. Yet here she was shaking as she prepared to knock on Saphron's and her wife Terra's door. The pair were visiting the vineyard for a holiday, from their true home in Argus.

"Come in. It's open." came a very calm voice in response to Pyrrha's timid knocks. Pyrrha slowly pushed open the door and peered around its edge. "Oh, Pyrrha! Come in. Come in!"

Pyrrha plastered on what she hoped was a friendly smile, as she opened the door fully and stepped into the room. Saphron was alone in the well appointed room, sitting in a rocking chair, doing some needle point. She shot Pyrrha a smile.

"So to what do I owe this pleasant surprise visit?" Saphron asked, as she continued to work on her needle point. "I looks like you're troubled about something."

"Well... um..."

"Sit." Saphron pointed to a nearby plush chair as she set her needle work aside. Pyrrha took a seat, and then found Saphron leaning in close regarding her closely. "Is Jaune okay?"

"Jaune's perfectly healthy." Pyrrha reported. "He's in his room with Ruby and Yang playing video games."

"Good." Saphron did not sit back up, but just continued her leaning towards Pyrrha, "So?"

"Um... well... um..."

"Pyrrha, come now." Saphron leaned back into her chair, with a disappointed look upon her face. "A woman of you skills and reputation should have the spine to say what is on her mind. Now out with it."

"Date Night!" Pyrrha blurted out totally missing the comments about her skills and reputation.

"Date Night?" Saphron's warm smile became almost feral. "Are you FINALLY going on a date with Jaune? Who asked? Did you? Him?"

"No... no... Yang invited Jaune and Jaune invited me. Yang is taking Blake, and we're going to the movies, but I... I..."

"Have no idea how to act properly?"

"YES!"

"I can see you're issue." Saphron responded, her smile showing off strong gleaming teeth. "Have you come here to ask my advice?"

"YES!"

"Well firstly, calm down. This is a date, not a wedding ceremony. SO no need to be so nervous." Saphron calmly stated. "Jaune asked you because he wants you to go with him, which means he likes you and treasures your company."

"But..."

"Pyrrha, relax." Saphron still smiling her feral smile, leaned forward once again. "Everyone aside from Jaune knows you're more than you seem, and have it... bad for our adored little baby brother."

Pyrrha shivered, as Saphron said those final words. The emphasis on them giving Pyrrha the hint that a warning had just been issued. She shook the feeling away, much more interested in advice on how to not mess this up, over any implied things like threats of warnings.

"So first, dress nice but casual. No need to be fancy, it is just the movies." Saphron spoke slowly and softly, "In fact wearing that adorable hoodie he bought you would be perfect, paired with a nice pair of jeans, and sensible shoes."

Pyrrha nodded.

"Now for behavior." Saphron clasped her hand together. "This is a modern age, and as such, do not expect jaune to pay for everything. In fact you should offer to split the cost of the snacks, or pay for his and yours at the same time. We know you have the money."

Pyrrha nodded, again, totally missing the end comment.

"Now, just relax and enjoy the time together. Jaune is not going to get upset if you seem hesitant. He will think you're being shy, and not that you are a trained assassin sent to... hurt him." Saphron's vivid blue eyes flashed and her smile grew sinister.

"NO!" Pyrrha shouted as her date night addled mind just now cluing in on what Saphron had just said. She tried to jump from her chair, only to find a pair of strong hands pushing her down into the chair, by her shoulders.

"Thank you babe. I really didn't want to be chasing her through the house." Saphron addressed the owner of the hands holding Pyrrha in the chair. "Pyrrha, you know my wife... Terra."

"Hello!" Terra greeted Pyrrha, leaning over her shoulder, to shoot her a less than comforting smile.

"I..."

"Please be quiet, Pyr." Saphron cut off Jaune's failed would-be assassin by using Jaune's own pet name for her. "We've been watching you, and we're impressed. Even though you... originally were meant to end the life of our precious brother, you have instead been protecting him, that's points in your favor."

"You knew?"

"Of course my dear. We know about you, the five other attempts. We even know about Belladonna and her new line of work." Terra informed Pyrrha from over her shoulder as Saphron shifted in her seat, and began to unbutton the top of her shirt. "And as long as you continue to do as you have been, we have no issue with you being here, or even sharing a room with him."

"I would never..."

"We know you won't Pyr." Saphron commented, her steelie voice causing Pyrrha to focus her full attention on her. "We have faith in the strength of your... love for Jaune."

Pyrrha was stunned into silence not just from the blantant statement from Saphron, but also for what she was seeing. There inked into the flesh of Saphron's left breast, close to where the heart is was a very specific tattoo. A tattoo all knew about, but few if any had ever seen, and Pyrrha was staring at one right now.

"The Sisters of Mercy..." Pyrrha spoke that title with almost worshipful reverence, and utter ass puckering fear. It was at that point she understood why she was always on edge around Jaune's sisters, "You all are?"

"Yes. ALL Arc women are."

(A/N - All the titles now link back to the master list.)

[stars-n-spice]

HAPPY 추석!

It's Chuseok! Aka Korean Thanksgiving!!

So here are some Korean dishes, desserts, drinks, and snacks that I think the different members of the Bad Batch would enjoy!

Hunter:

Lots of spicy soups and meat!

A lot of this is just honestly my dad's personal favorites because,, dads y'know?

I actually don't eat a lot of these things but Hunter's got a stomach of steel so I think he can handle it

Echo:

Had a difficult time coming up with foods Echo might like since he's a picky eater

Lot of it is just really simple stuff with not too many flavors nor is most of it very spicy

Lots of veegtables and also things my sister and mom enjoy (both remind me of Echo)

Wrecker:

So much meat!!! Let's be honest - any and all meat from Korea, Wrecker is going to enjoy

He was the easiest to pick out food for because I think he'd enjoy everything

Lots of street food as well!! Which are my personal faves <3

Tech:

It was a bit difficult to figure out what Tech might like because I can't really get a read on him in terms of what his stomach can handle

I do think he has a sweet tooth though so I've included some of my personal favorite sweets!

I think he's a snacker though so a lot of these are just stuff you can much on

Crosshair:

Another picky eater - so it was difficult to come up with things for him

I also just think that he's not a big fan of Korean food to be honest :/ a LOT of it is spicy and he can't handle his spice so he doesn't really like it

HOWEVER he loves the ice cream and drinks of course <3

Omega:

SNACKS AND DESSERTS!!

Also included some childhood favorites because I think Omega would enjoy them as well!

Honestly most of this is just sweets because I think Omega would enjoy any and all Korean snacks and desserts above all else

Names of the foods and whatnot under the cut!!

Anything marked with an '*' are traditionally eaten during 추석! Anything highlighted in blue are my personal favorites! Read from left to right to identify dishes!

Hunter:

Kimchi jjigae (김치찌개) - kimchi soup; pretty spicy, honestly not one of my favorites but I think Hunter would enjoy spicy foods

Hotteok (호떡) - Korean dessert/street food; it's like a pancake with either red bean or sweet syrup inside and is served warm - I think it's like the one sweet that Hunter can tolerate

Bulgogi (불고기) - popular beef dish; has too much fat on it for me to like it but I think Hunter wouldn't mind and enjoys them

Gamjatang (감자탕) - potato/beef soup - my parents' personal favorite; has big bones with a lot of meat I think Hunter would enjoy stripping off

Sundae (순대) - "Blood sausage" - steamed pig/cow intestine with other ingredients inside; another one of my parents' favorites

Haejangguk/Hang over soup (해장국) - Korea has a heavy drinking culture so they have a whole ass soup to have after hangovers; I think Hunter would enjoy it and since he probably has bad migraines from overstimulation, this soup would help

Baccus (박카스)- Korean energy drink; he needs it - basically uncarbonated Redbull

Jollypong - Cereal snack; my personal favorite - included it with Hunter because my dad also loves this snack and has eaten MY jollypong on numerous occasions

Dalgona Coffee (달고나 커피) -Uhhh, I'm sure you probably know what this is - I think Hunter would enjoy the very needed coffee

Terra Beer - The only beer I like other than Modelo - my 큰아빠 introduced me to it and it's great

Peanut & Squid Ball Snack - This is just such a DadTM snack idk

Muneo-jorim/Braised Octopus (문어조림) - I think Hunter likes seafood and my dad loves octopus so -

Dwaejigogi-bokkeum (돼지고기볶음) - Mmmh spicy pork!

Jokbal (족발) - Braised pig trotters - it's super good and you eat it with a spicy sauce

Soegogi-gui (쇠고기구이) - More meats! Very chewy meat. Can be pork or beef.

Echo:

Bibimbap (비빔밥) - Classic Korean food; think Chipotle bowl but with Korean veggies and meat - basically just rice, ground meat, veggies, and other sauces (if you want) and sometimes an egg

Sikhye (식혜)* - Rice punch; pretty sweet

Mandu-guk (만둣국) - Dumpling soup; pretty plain but one of my favorites

Cucumber Kimchi (오이 김치) - literally just in the name; it's cucumbers made similarly to how you make kimchi; a banchan (side dish)

Buchujeon (부추전)* - Aka "Korean Pancakes" - Various ways to make things; can be spicy, can have seafood, can just be veggies

Mu-Guk (무국)* - Radish soup, pretty simple and plain in taste

Makgeolli (막걸리) - Rice Wine - because Echo is a wine mom, of course he's going to enjoy rice wine too

Turtle Chips - My sister's personal favorite chips - they have a very strong smell and are usually corn flavored

Kopiko Coffee Candy - When he can't get to actual coffee, he can rely on this candy to give him some caffeine boosts - also one of my mom's favorites

Bae (배) - Korean Pear - My favorite fruit ever; tastes like a mix of an apple and a pear

Yujacha (유자차) - Special kind of tea made from the yuja fruit

Injeolmi (인절미)* - A type of rice cake covered in dried bean powder

Gochu-bokkeum (고추볶음) - A banchan that's basically just kimchi-fied peppers

Goguma (고구마) - Cooked sweet potato - another of my mom and sister's favorites

Galbitang (갈비탕) - Beef soup - something simple in taste, good amounts of meat, another of my mom's favorites

Crispy Rice Rolls - Literally just like,, rice sticks; I don't really like them any more :/ but they look like rations - another one of my sister's favorites

Wrecker:

Bossam (보쌈) - Steamed pork that you usually dip in spicy sauces and wrap in a lettuce

Budae Jjigae/ Army Stew (부대찌개) - A popular, spicy, Korean soup made of a lot of ingredients

Kimbap (김밥) - Korea's version of sushi

Jjampong (짬뽕) - Seafood Soup (usually spicy)

Korean Fried Chicken - Any and all types of KFC; it's so fucking good you guys, my absolute favorite

Korean Corn Dogs - Another one of my favorites; a street food that can be made in various ways

Sotteok Sotteok (소떡소떡) - Street food; rice cakes and sausages on a stick

Samgyeopsal (삼겹살) - Black Bellied pork - served with a multitude of things and is one of my favorite things to eat because half of it is the experience of cooking it with my family

Galbi (갈비) - Korean Short Ribs

Jokbal (족발) - See Hunter's (I think they'd both like it)

Shrimp Chips - Chips flavored like shrimp - the man likes seafood so I think he'd enjoy this

Shin Ramen - Spicy instant Ramen

Homerun Balls - Like those Hello Panda candies - it's a cracker with chocolate filling inside

Papico Ice Cream - Chocolate ice cream

Myeolchi-ttangkong-bokkeum/Anchovy Banchan (멸치땅콩볶음) - Baby anchovies that are seasoned and mixed in with peanuts - banchan dish

Tech:

Gyeran Jim (계란찜) - something like an egg soufflé that is steamed instead of baked and doesn't have any dairy products

Japchae/chapchae (잡채)* - Glass-noodles; has a good amount of vegetables in it

Miyuki Guk (미역국) - Seaweed soup; my personal favorite soup - usually eaten on birthdays - also, like me, I think Tech doesn't care for the 'seaweed' part of the soup and will fish it out and just drink the soup

Curry Buldak (불닭) - Big fan of the idea that Tech loves curry so by default he probably enjoys the curry buldak as well

Mandu (만두) - Korean Dumplings - any and all, Tech just enjoys popping them in his mouth

Yeot-gangjeong (엿강정)* - Rice cake dessert mixed with various nuts

Red Bean Hotteok (팥호떡) - Read Hunter's - I think Tech would like the red bean version

Korean Popcorn - Idk how to describe this other than it's just,, Korean popcorn - it's really good despite not tasting like anything

Binggrae Power Cap Soda Flavored Ice Cream - An ice cream that kinda is like a slushie and has a very unique taste

Korean Curry (카레 라이스) - Again, Tech loves curry so he loves Korean curry as well

Ojingeochae-muchim (오징어채무침) - Seasoned Dried Shredded squid - a banchan dish that I think he'd enjoy slurping up

Kkwabaegi (꽈배기) - Twisted Korean Donut - I think Tech has a sweet tooth and these are simple and my favorites; think churro

Odeng (오뎅) - Fish cake - either in a soup or a skewer

Dalgona (달고나) - From Squid Game; a sweet cookie that usually has some little fun shape in it - again, Tech has a sweet tooth but he also attempts to try and get the shape out

Maesilju (매실주) - Plum wine - it's sweet so I think Tech would like it

Crosshair:

Bingsu (빙수) - Korean Shaved ice - comes in various flavors and served usually with condensed milk (he's so getting a stomach ache after)

Tofu Stew (순두부찌개) - But non-spicy (just like me) because Crosshair's stomach can handle only so much

Jjajangbap (짜장밥) - Black Bean Paste with Rice

Cheese-tteok-kkochi (치즈떡꼬치) - Cheesy, fried rice cakes on a stick - Had to give him something on a skewer and it's cheesy so he loves it despite not being able to really digest it

Seolleongtang/Ox Bone Soup (설렁탕) -

Juk (죽) - Rice porridge - something simple to soothe his stomach

Melona - Popular Korean ice cream bar brand

Flavored Soju - Any and all flavors of soju, he loves. It's going to get him real drunk real fast so watch out-

Ice Yogurt Ice Cream - What's better than the Yokult drink? How about yokult ice cream? His stomach is in so much pain.

Milkis (specifically the Strawberry flavor) - Carbonated milk soda! Before you say "Ew, that sounds disgusting" fucking watch yourself because it's the best drink known to man and I'll die on that hill

Banana Milk (바나나맛 우유) - literally in the name - banana milk; he'll drink it and say it's not that bad because it's banana flavored

Choco-Pie - Basically just a moon-pie - it's a chocolate pie with marshmallow filling on the inside

Tteokguk (떡국)* - Rice Cake Soup - it's easy on the stomach and isn't spicy; he also likes chewing on the rice cakes

Cass Beer - Korean beer - my parents' personal favorite

Pocky Sticks - Um,,, toothpicks - must I say any more?

Omega:

Jjajangmyeon (짜장면) - Black Bean Paste Noodles - childhood favorite dish!! Super messy and had to wear a bib for the longest time every time I ate this dish (technically a Chinese dish but shhhh)

Bungeoppang (붕어빵) - Pastries shaped like fish filled with various things like redbean, nutella, or custards (my personal favorite)

Tteokbokki (떡볶이) - Rice cakes with various other ingredients - spicy and one of Korea's more popular/well known dishes

Naengmyun (냉면) - Cold Noodles - kinda like Japan's soba; can be spicy or not and is usually a summer dish - Omega loves to slurp this

Doenjang jjigae (된장찌개) - Soybean Paste Soup - a really simple soup that is sometimes spicy - I just think Omega loves soup

Songpyeon (송편)* - Red Bean Rice Cakes - very chewy, very colorful; I think Omega would like it

Carbonara Buldak (불닭) - My personal favorite flavor of Buldak - Omega can't handle full spice yet but that doesn't stop her from eating it

Yakgwa (약과)* - Honey/Fried Korean cookie - tastes kinda like a donut

Samanco (싸만코) - Like Bungeoppang, it's a fish shaped dessert; but this one is an icecream and usually has various flavors like red bean, strawberry puree, chocolate, or matcha (this is something Crosshair would probably enjoy as well)

Banana Kick - Banana flavored chips shaped like cheeto puffs - one of my favorite Korean snacks

Milkis (밀키스) - Again, like Crosshair I think she'd love this drink

Flavored Onion Rings - Korean version of funyuns - one of my favorites - I can see Omega wearing them like rings or bracelets while she eats them

Chapssaltteok (찹쌀떡) - Steamed red bean bun; street food - nice and chewy

Potato Tornado (회오리 감자) - A seasoned fried potato strewn out on a stick - Korean street food (something I also think Wrecker would enjoy)

Hwachae (화채) - Watermelon fruit punch - served with various fruits and jellies; it's just a cute little sweet thing I think Omega would enjoy very much

[aqua-the-smiter]

Ferrus trying to make sense of some new feelings he's gained for a very special someone. Ferrus X Argena (OC) Mildly nsfw Song - https://youtu.be/Qebf3c-ZaSM?si=9iJ4A2SS3C635zgd Divider by @squishyowl

XX/XX/XXXX   Damn That Woman

I think I was given too good of a blessing when I met Argena.

Make no mistake, the problem is my own, not hers. It’s like I found a bar of purest silver in a bin full of iron ore and coal. I don’t know what she has done to me. What effect the time we spend together is having on me, but I know this much: I have changed, and I have never felt this way before. Ever.

I’m not sure how to really describe it. This potent mix of possessiveness, lust, and a third, utterly and inescapably magnetic thing that I cannot give word to in any meaningful capacity because I have never felt anything like it in my life. I don’t know what it is, but it has haunted me for months now. After mulling over for some time I believe I have a conclusion, although what to make of it is another matter. Love. I have fallen in love with her in the most embarrassing, whole hearted, and true fashion possible. This feeling is the feeling of love. I’m not sure I like it, but she is a different matter. 

It feels like I met her only a week ago, but it has been over a year. Nearly two, at the time I write this, and that time has slowly chipped away at me, day by day. It’s my fault. I have had her by my side constantly since we met. I made her my senechal. I put myself in a position to be close to her. Even when I didn’t need to I went out of my way to spend time with her, be with her. When it began I was happy to grow close to her as a friend. I don’t have many, even among my own brothers, and she was so different from all of them yet so perfect a compion. Maybe that is why I find myself drawn to her now. In some ways she is just like me. Driven to create, to work with her hands, like I am. She works hard, almost too much. Just as she reminds me to take care of myself, I find myself looking out for her as well. She and I both would rather bite our tongues than ask for help, although she gives it more readily than I do. She is honest and doesn’t wrap her barbs in a layer of sycophancy. She is strong, in her own way, maybe not in the way I would usually measure strength but she is. But she’s much kinder than I am, more easily able to be gentle. The things she makes are delicate and beautiful. Creating for pleasure rather than purely for purpose, where I consider practicality almost entirely. She’s a good shot, and could be quite good with a blade, but she’s no warrior. There’s no thrill in combat or danger for her. At times it shocks me that we have so much in common, and at others I wonder how we get along so well when we’re so different. It’s like comparing a black swan to a raven. Both have the dark feathers, but even those aren’t quite the same, much less the rest of the bird.

Although I could hardly be compared to even a raven. They may eat the eyes out of corpses, but they have an elegance to them, and their feathers gleam with opaline colors in the right light. 

I wonder to myself if that is why she is drawn to beauty. Because she herself is the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. Eala dhubh, black swan. Or a selkie maiden, from the stories of old Terra. Either is an apt comparison. It is her grace and elegance that remind me that she was nobility at some point, although you’d never be able to tell if you looked at her now. She is that statue brought to life, the kind of feminine beauty that some men will spend their entire lives trying to capture. She is the woman that gets all the songs and poems written about her, not for her. She is beheld her from afar, gazed at like some masterwork painting, but never approached her for fear of inadequacy. The type of woman that catches the eye of even some of my most stoic brothers. Unapproachable beauty, at least if you’re a coward. I am not, but I am new to love. This warmth deep in my heart when I think of her, when we’re together. It’s not something I ever thought of myself experiencing. I have seen some of my brothers find themselves brides, and I have been content to consign myself to watching, and nothing else. No more.

Damn that woman. She has my heart and doesn’t have the slightest idea. 

If I were anyone else I may have cracked already. But here I have to be cautious, and as in many things I must be practical. If I truly want to woo her, what can I give her? What do I have over my brothers, a few of whom I know she gets along well with and could be with if things become truly FUBAR. If she were mine she would have the life of a queen, but that is true for any Primarch’s wife, and that will not be a factor in her mind at all. She was a princess, and left that life behind anyway to work for me. Any man could give her a family, and any of my brothers could see that she wants for nothing ever again. No, I have had to come to terms with the fact that if she is to be with me, it is because it is me and only me she wants. And I am not a handsome man. My nickname is the Gorgon for a reason. The truth is that I have nothing to offer her. Nothing but myself. In spite of my looks, and my guarded heart. This whole love thing, I am learning, is an extremely messy ordeal. 

I know I am a hard sell, but the thought of her being with one of my brothers or another man hurts. Of course, if that is how things would turn out, so be it. She is her own woman, and I cannot force her to love me back. No, if I have to let her go, I will. But it cuts me deeply. At the very least I can take solace in the fact that she would never go with Fulgrim. I can even assure myself that one of my brothers could take care of her at least as well as I could. But she is mo ghaol, and the thought still makes me sick. I want her to be mine. I want you to be mine.

That has been running through my thoughts frequently as of late. I can’t shake the thought no matter how hard I’ve tried, I have tried. But they linger, and they stick like burrs, no matter how hard I try to push them aside. I want…Throne, I barely even know. This whole romance thing is so bloody nebulous. I want to hold her close, protect her from everything this galaxy may throw. I could gladly spend my  days talking with her, and nothing else. She has made me happy in a way I didn’t know I was lacking, filled a longing for a friend I didn’t know I had, and it has grown out of my control. And she is perfect, in a way. Not a perfect person, nobody is, but for me. Gold to silver, her femininity to my masculinity. Oh Throne, that’s a rabbit hole. 

Maybe not one I should get into, but that is why I have this book. Because the contents will never see the bloody light of day, not if I can help it. It was a good idea, and I’m glad I took Roboute’s suggestion. Otherwise I would have nowhere to express all these…thoughts, I have. Gena has been my confidant for a while, but I think I’d rather burn the entire book then let her see what comes next.

I want her.

Even writing that little feels dirty. Appropriate, I suppose. These thoughts I have are equally unclean. I’m good at pushing them aside, ignoring them. Or maybe they just hide, receding into the cracks of my mind and waiting to nag me again. It’s the worst during my rut, but they come at other times, jab me in the kidney, then run off again. But the fact remains. I want her. That in itself is new. I’ve felt sexual desire before, been through enough bloody ruts to ensure that. She isn’t even the first woman I’ve found attractive, but none have sparked this need in me like she has. Gena is special. Truly special.

I’ve mentioned her beauty before but it bears repeating. It also doesn’t help that she is exactly my type, physically. My brothers have assumptions about my taste in women which are decidedly false. But she is absolutely perfect. Slim and soft and deliciously curvy. It’s hard for me not to note certain things when I look at her. The way her robe flows around the curve of her breasts, her slender waist tapering out to wide hips, the thickness of her thighs filling out her skirts. There’s a grace and smoothness to her movements that’s nearly impossible for me to look away from, as effortless as the flow of molten metal. There’s a certain lilt in her voice when she says my name and I can’t hear it enough these days. Her skin is nearly as fair as mine and her hair is as pitch black as a Medusan sea, falling in waves around her face and over her shoulders. She smiles when she sees me, those lovely full lips of hers quirking up and her golden eyes bright like new coins. 

On their own, in the moment these things about her I can set aside, and see only my senechal and friend. It’s when the moment passes. When I’m lying wide awake in bed thinking about her. That is when my mind assembles these fragments into the pornographic. Those images haunt my dreams, linger in the chill on my bare skin. The faceless woman in my mind during my rut is no longer so. It’s her, now. Dead gods of Medusa. I want her. 

I want to feel her lithe legs coiling around my hips in a futile attempt to hold them in place. I want to hear her out of breath and whispering my name, her naked body pressed against mine, that sweet voice moaning in bliss. I want to make that calm, gentle expression she has shatter with unconstrained rapture. Hear her begging me for more as we're both drenched in sweat and panting. I want to see my seed dripping from between her legs.

Feeling her clench as we both fall off the edge. Making her truly and completely mine, making her come undone completely, tangling my hand in her hair and drawing her even closer. Something that isn’t merely the physical act but the primal ecstasy of truly becoming one.

I take solace in the fact that she doesn’t know I even have this book. She doesn’t need to know about this absurd situation., neither about my love for her or that I crave her carnally.

I’m ashamed to think about her like this, even if it’s not the only capacity I regard her in. Far from it. Still she’s not mine, and she may never be, but she is my friend, and very dear to me outside these new feelings. It feels wrong to think of her like this, so…horny. Especially since she values her purity so highly. I keep them leashed tightly, for all the good it does. They’re only my thoughts though. And I have to wonder if she thinks similar things about me. 

A part of me hopes she does, although I know it’s unlikely. Still, woven in with all my desire is the deep, desperate hope that she shares the same feelings I do. The same love, the same lust, the same need to be close. To be wanted by her. Having her wanting me to be hers in the same way I want her to be mine. It’s a harmless wish, if nothing else. One I can only see remaining a wish. Even though I have never been one to indulge in dreams, this one is excessively sweet and I can’t help but revisit it. I speak as though it will only remain a dream. It sounds negative, but it feels the most realistic.

I care for her deeply, but the fact remains that before anything else she has become my friend. If I told her all this, if she didn’t share my feelings, things could never go back to the way they were. Something between us would be irreparably broken. The casualness, the disregard of proper, stuffy respect. She does not say “my lord” anymore unless she’s joking, and I call her Gena, and “my lady” in jest. I can be honest with her, blunt and even ribald. On many levels we are not equals and never will be, but in this bond we have forged, we are. If she doesn't want me the way I want her, if she doesn’t yearn for my embrace the way I yearn for hers. If I’m stupid enough to tell her that and tip the balance, then…no. If I can’t make her my bride I will content myself with her friendship. That in itself has been enough.

If she wants me, she will have to be the one to tell me, on her terms. I don’t like it, having to sit back and do nothing. It is against my nature to, and feels foreign. But I will hold my tongue and be patient. Rather that, than risking something so precious.

Until then the most I can do is hope that our time together sparks something in her the way it has for me. I want her to be mine.

[weird-homosexual-in-your-area]

“Pilots in unit B43C1 are needed for sortie. Repeat, pilots in unit B43C1 are needed for sortie. Assigned technicians, escort pilots in unit B43C1 to docking bay immediately.” 

She was roused from her dream-like state by a blaring siren, louder than anything she remembered. She wasn’t startled, nor did she reflexively cover her ears like she would have done months ago, she just sat up and left her rest bay. A technician, she didn’t have his name memorised- whatever, they all looked the same to her since the conditioning- was at the door, clearly agitated at her for some reason or another. He grabbed her by the arm and tugged her out of the room, toward the docking bay. 

“You know, I had tickets to go out with my mates, evening of that sortie the other day,” he commented, face slightly reddening, grip on her arm tightening. “Tickets to see that Terra-Kadora game- you know the one I’m on about? Of course you don’t, you don’t see that shit now.” 

He suddenly stopped, with a painless jolt to her arm pulling her in front of him. He towered over her, but she felt no fear, more confusion as to what he was getting at. 

“’Course, you didn’t care if we got to see that game, did you? It don’t matter to you that we were stuck in repairs for two full fucking days, fixing your leg after that stupid jump kick trick you pulled,” he muttered. He was clearly unimaginably angry. She didn’t really pay much notice- he didn’t know how good it felt in the cockpit pulling that off. He couldn’t know. The joy of piloting was beyond him. “That was my first scheduled off day for a full month. Can you imagine that? A full month doing nothing but working, and your first day off gets cancelled because some idiotic brain-dead little shitbag felt like looking flashy. Can you imagine that?” 

A dreamy smile fell onto her face. She was imagining it, and it was as close to heaven as she could imagine. 

“What are you fucking smiling at?!”  He pulled her close to him, screeching in pure rage. She reflexively tried to activate her close-range jammers, to fire off an AP volley to disable the attacker, close in for that sweet, sweet kill; but nothing happened- those facilities weren’t available in her flesh-body. She dropped her smile, knowing better than to provoke the anger of the techs- especially ones who work to fix her mech.  

He sighed in exasperation- they were nearing the docking bay, and she’d have to have the helmet on soon. “I’ll be watching you today. If you pull that shit again, we’ll have issues- I managed to convince the highers to let my guys out today instead, and I doubt they’ll be convinced to do it again.”  

He passed her onto another technician, telling him to “put it in the cockpit on B43C1E”, and gave her the pilot’s helmet. She slipped it onto her head, and suddenly, darkness.  

Silence. 

Nothing except the hand of the technician dragging her to her beloved suit. 

She was pushed down a step into the cockpit and harnessed in. She felt several jolts of agony and euphoria, bright light and blackness, screeching sound and empty static, as she was plugged into the neural system. 

Then, the OPH- the oxygenated liquid allowing her flesh-body to breathe in the cockpit- flooded into the heart of the mech. She fought the urge to recoil as it reached her stomach level, the cold seeping down to her reactor- no, her bones. She wasn’t synced with the mech yet, unfortunately, so she had no reactor to keep her warm. 

As the liquid reached her head height, she reflexively held her breath, preparing to drown, but caught herself and exhaled fully. The liquid needed to fully get into her lungs, or the sheer pressure of the liquid around her would crush them. As it made its way down her windpipe, she fought the urge to splutter it up, to get it out of her lungs, and just let it into her body. Her vision filled with stars, red and yellow hues as her brain screamed for air, until suddenly she didn’t need to breathe anymore as the OPH reached her lungs, filling her with ample oxygen. 

Silence again. No sound, no sight, no feeling but the frigid liquid encasing her like a personal prison. Nothing. 

Then, all at once, her senses lit up with the familiar view from the eyes of her true body, one not of flesh and blood but of reinforced titanium and coolant.  She heard the familiar hissing sound of the scaffolding holding the mech retracting, its purpose fulfilled as the body was now inhabited. 

DEPLOY 

She didn’t hear the word, but it popped into her head. One second it wasn’t on her mind, the next it was all she could think of, and she had no choice but to do what she’d been conditioned to on hearing it said. She pushed her rear thrusters to full, leaning forward slightly and engaging the front calf thrusters to balance her out, so as to achieve the best speed she could- the system loved it when she did that, and so did she, as an overpowering wave of dopamine flooded her system as the reward drive kicked in for her compliance. Her flesh-body shook in response, but her true body, her gleaming body of steel, remained unwavering in its flight. 

She wasn’t sure exactly when it happened, but at some point in her flight she just knew what she was being sent out for. A few hundred kilometers away from the outpost at which she made her residence, 7 enemy mechs had been spotted making their way toward a crucial state power station. They were new mechs- analysis put the suits themselves at about a week old, so the pilots wouldn’t have much experience. Her unit could easily deal with them- 16 pilots with a few months’ worth of experience versus 7 with a couple of days? Walk in the park- the only real challenge was doing it cleanly enough for the reward drive to deem them worthy, but at this point even that was easy. 

About 15 minutes after her troop set out, they began to see the enemy mechs across the horizon. They were hulking things- 25 meters tall on average (about 5 meters taller than her), armour-piercing round emplacements on each shoulder, with laser arrays along the ribs of the machine. And that was only the armaments the mechs had that she could immediately see- for all she knew, there could be thousands of rocket pods stored in those four arms, there could be EMP generators hiding in that disfigured face, there could be blades that could cut through her sleek, metallic form like butter hiding in those legs. Those mechs were everything she’d been taught to hate, to fear, to want gone. 

For even a thousand infantry troops, dealing with just one of these would be suicide. For her mech troop? 10 minutes, maybe just 5. 

Mechs 1 through 7 began the assault, opening fire with rocket pods to slow down the bulkier four-armed monsters. They took several hits, clearly not expecting any opposition, the fools that they were. They snapped around, frantically shooting off AP rounds to try and slow down the oncoming storm, but not one shot met its mark, all being dodged by her unit, giving each a little hint of dopamine. God, the dopamine was incredible in piloting. Like nothing else in her life before the program, or what little she remembered of it, or during the program. Those techs couldn’t ever begin to understand how good it felt- she could take whatever “issues” they’d give her if it meant she’d get just a fraction of the euphoria she was going to experience over the course of the sortie. 

As the troop closed in, the enemy mechs grew increasingly desperate. They started firing off all-too-predictable laser arrays, each being swiftly dodged by all the mechs, and releasing some hidden rockets from a compartments in their arms, which she just knew were going to be there. She got another hit of dopamine from that- so fucking good- that was quickly cut short by the shared pain she felt over the comms relay, that was honestly more like a thought-sharing system, from several of the rockets finding their mark on number 5. 

 Hatred newly refueled, she boosted her thrusters into overdrive and sped over to the enemies, a cheetah running after a gazelle. She activated her elbow thrusters and drove her fist clean through one of the enemy mechs’ chestplate, grabbing the fusion reactor within and tearing it out, crushing the still-beating “heart” of the machine in her bare hands, and the dopamine was unlike anything else she’d experienced. A clean reactor kill always was- her system was flooded with pure satisfaction, and her flesh body shivered in reflexive response. The unresponsive shell of her kill keeled over, a deafening crash resounding across the barren wasteland as it hit the floor. 

 She noticed an enemy mech behind her through some optical data from mech 3, and span around on her left leg, whipping out her right with a thruster-boosted roundhouse kick that cleaved the foe in two with relative ease. Another rush of euphoria, slightly less satisfying than the last due to the damage she caused to her leg in the process of the manoeuvre, but still significant enough to make “her” body tense up in the cockpit. 

With the new injury to her leg, fighting at the front line was too much of a risk, even though it would net her so much more reward, so she reluctantly opted to retreat to the backline consisting still of mechs 1 through 7, now also with her mech E, to provide supporting fire for the front liners. They fought with grace and beauty, dodging the more unwieldy days-old mechs’ blows like flies dodging weak attempts at swatting, before countering with devestating punches and kicks that caved in heads, carved off limbs, detonated ammo reserves, each hit only adding to the sheer rush of dopamine they all felt. Her and the other 7’s fire was extremely helpful, provided much-needed openings on the mechs that were far more occupied prolonging their own survival than dealing with the far more apt attackers. 

After a couple more minutes of trading blows, only one enemy remained, its four-armed form glistening in the harsh sunlight like the angel of Death it so desperately wanted to be. Strangely, it didn’t attempt a retreat to save itself, or to fight back, or anything of the sort, it just fell to its knees, like it was accepting its fate. Strange. Why would it do tha- 

Suddenly, it clicked to her. It was overloading its fusion core. It’d result in a massive nuclear explosion destroying everything in a... 14 kilometer radius- just about leaving the power plant safe, thank God. Since she knew it, all the other pilots immediately did too thanks to the thought-sharing process. Everyone frantically turned away, boosting thrusters into overdrive to get as much distance between them and the explosion that was about to destroy everything near it- including them if they weren’t fast enough. 

After two minutes of flying, panic overtaking her and every other pilot in the troop, an all-encompassing blast rang out from the battlefield they were at minutes ago. They were pushed a good 50 meters back by the shockwave, all maintaining balance thanks to their experience with this sort of explosion. Their heads were searing from the sheer pain of the soundwave, everything within 14 kilometers of the mech was reduced to ruins, but at least they were alive.  

Pilot B ran a quick diagnostic check to ensure no major damage had been done to any of them- all that returned was E’s leg (the front panels of which had completely shattered with her second kill), some mild overheating in the backs of all of them except 1, 4, 9 and A which could weaken the armour if left unchecked, and several breached armour plates on 5’s front from the rocket salvo they endured. Still, she’d been on missions that had ended far worse for her troop. 

RECALL 

Again, she didn’t hear the command as much as it became her thoughts, and as soon as it did, she reflexively began flying back to the base. She allowed herself to blank out on the way- if there were no briefings she’d receive, no diagnostics to run, no enemies to fight, she didn’t need sit around in a boring flight back for however long it’d take. 

***** 

Some time passed- she wasn’t sure how much- and her home base came into view over the horizon, a gleaming silver compound contrasting against the blood-stained sand and bright blue sky. She slowed down to walking pace (still many times faster than her pace in her flesh-body) and walked through the bay doors, alongside the rest of her troop. They each slotted into their respective docking bays, and she felt the scaffolding swing onto her, holding her down for the extraction process. She wanted to fight it, needed to stay in her true body, had to stop them tearing her out, but it was useless fighting back, as several anti-mech infantry units were stationed on the various gantries that lined the room like capillaries, weapons trained on each of them, waiting only for the slightest deviation from procedure to open fire. Despite every joint in her body, every cell of her brain that still housed what little remained of her crying out to stop it, she allowed the scaffolding to lock around her. She allowed the piping to drain the OPH from the cockpit. She allowed the doors to be levered open. 

She allowed herself to be torn from her true body in a jolt of pure, unfiltered agony, as the neural ports disconnected from her spinal cord. 

Her brain took a while to recover from the overuse in the mech, and even longer to recover from the sheer shock of the disconnection, so when she next noticed that she still existed, she was being carried by a technician to the debriefing room. She twitched slightly, trying to run diagnostics to ensure she was unharmed- but that facility wasn’t available in her flesh-body. 

“Oh, you’re awake now,” came the voice of the man who was carrying her. She noted it was the same as her earlier assailant, the one who’d warned her about breaking anything- shit, she’d broken the leg, hadn’t she? She tensed up, expecting the technician to break out into a shout, but he laughed softly, almost affectionately. “While you’re here, I may as well just say well done on the mission before the briefing. You did really good, honestly- you took a quarter of them down yourself! That spin-kick was also really well done; I’m kinda shocked.” She relaxed, realising he wasn’t yet aware of the damage she’d done. She knew she was going to suffer when he found out, but that was in the future.  

The technician gently placed her down onto the ground, and she walked alongside him. Several times, she nearly fell over when she had to turn, expecting her thrusters to kick in when she willed them to, but they remained in the docking bay on her true body, not on... this body. They walked in comfortable silence, as she checked every corner, half expecting an enemy mech to ambush her around it, then catching herself and looking ahead, focused on where she was going. 

After a couple of minutes walking, they reached the briefing room, and they went in their separate entrances. The technician went into the main door of the room, into the conference room itself where the details of the mission would be relayed to the staff as a whole by the Base Director, the woman who ran the site. She went in through the back door of the room to behind the stage, alongside the other 15 pilots who were on the mission, catching a glimpse of a pale, unemotive face that wasn’t truly hers in the reflection of the stainless steel door. They were also there for the briefing, to pick up any details they’d missed during the mission, but couldn’t be allowed in the crowd, with their dead eyes and identical gaits being deemed too unsettling for the public to see. 

The booming, yet comforting voice of the site director came over the microphone urging the crowd to quiet down, an order they all quickly obeyed. She then continued; “As you may know, pilot unit B43C1 were deployed into the field a few hours ago. Our sensors picked up a strike team of Forcemesh mechs approaching Power Plant Delta- one of the most crucial plants here on Kadora, for those who make their residence somewhere else. Unit B43C1 was deployed to dispatch of them- if they made it to the plant and were allowed free reign, the consequences would have been disastrous.” 

The crowd murmured in shock- presumably some images of an example of the possible devestation were being displayed on the screen for the audience. There was no screen behind the stage- it would have cost very little to install one, but there was no need for the pilots to experience the briefing (“they’re not human anymore, they wouldn’t get the intricacies,” the Director had said on the topic)- but it didn’t take being shown to know what was being shown.  

“Fortunately, the brave pilots of Unit B43C1 arrived just in time to make quick work of the threat. We have here some footage captured from Mech E’s sensory array of the scene.” The crowd erupted into cheers- likely as her textbook reactor kill was shown on screen. God, that was incredible. “Incredible work from the mech, right?”  

“So, the gains of this mission have been discussed, but now we must talk of the costs. Mech 5’s chest was breached by a rocket salvo, so I’ll need technician section 5 on that tonight. All of the mechs except A, 9, 4 and 1 have had some overheating to their backs from that massive blast the final enemy released, so I’ll need the corresponding teams to check on those at some point in the coming week- it's not the most urgent, but it being done as soon as possible is needed for the continued defence of Kadora. Finally, mech E shattered a couple of the armour plates on its right leg, and the joints need checking too, so section E, you’re on that tonight.” 

She heard some commotion, presumably from section E, after that was announced, with the director chiding them for their childish response. “It’s got to be done, and it’s got to be done today. Sorry, you lot. With that, this meeting is adjourned. Glory to Stormcell!” 

A resounding chorus of the whole room echoing her cry of glory, then footfalls and idle chatter as the crowd filtered out of the room. As per procedure, the Lead Technician of each sector came to the backstage area to escort the pilots back to their assigned rest bays. Her escorter was red in the face, and grabbed her arm with a ferocity that nearly matched that of the rest of her troop. 

They walked in silence, with him almost dragging her along when she failed at rounding corners. When they eventually reached the resting bay block, though, he tugged her arm to drag her into the left turn to the technician dormitories instead of her rest bay. Fuck. She should’ve known this was coming. She should’ve just not broken her leg. It wasn’t necessarily going to hurt- her sensitivity to pain had been annihilated in the conditioning process, as had many other parts of her personality that she missed to varying degrees- but she wouldn’t be in a state in which she could pilot for days. 

As she was dragged into the technicians’ dormitory, she saw the technician who dragged her in- the same one who’d been interacting with her all day, she realised- raise his fist in a punch, and she tried to activate her close range jammers- but they were on her true body, not her flesh-form. As the punch landed, she fell to the floor, and everything went dark. 

***** 

She wasn’t sure how long it was before she came to, but when she was she wasn’t in the grimy, dark dormitories but the unsettlingly clean medical bay, with its flourescent lighting and too-polished walls and floors. She saw a figure sitting on the side of the bed she’d been put on, not one she recognised but not one she viewed as a “stranger”, per se. 

“Sam, it’s awake. Get in here, you’re the one with the damage report,” came the voice of the figure. The voice was bored, like it’d been sitting there for hours and this was the first thing worth his time that had happened. Then, another figure came in. She couldn’t tell the difference between the two- their medical scrubs were identical. 

“Right, E, so you fell off a gantry apparently- side note, pilots seem to have horrible balance on days they damaged their mechs, but that’s just an observation- and ended up with a concussion, extreme bruising pretty much all over you, but luckily for you, no broken bones. Good on you, you ‘landed’ well.” She let out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding at that- at least she could get back to piloting fairly soon. 

 “You’re staying on rest for a day or 2 while you recover, but after that you should be good to go back in the field after that. Also, your technicians asked me to pass on a message to you when they found you- ‘be more careful, you braindead piece of shit.’ I’m sure they’re lovely people to be around. Anyway, that’s all, so… yeah.” 

He stood there in arkward silence for a few seconds, before he and the other figure walked out of the room, leaving only her, the hum of the lighting, and a reflection that wasn’t hers in the polished, shining ceiling. 

She could have gotten off worse, at least. 

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Pondered

Author’s note: More of Husbandry AU with Draco. Thank you to @kit-williams for letting me borrow Roland and his Bonded human. Becky is the non-cannon name for Roland's Bonded.

Summary: Draco continues to be a dick.

Warnings: None? Let me know if I need to add anything.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @ms--lobotomy , @thevoidscreams, @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Tagged: @felinisnoctis , @undeaddream

Draco ponders his next steps, getting the information out of that Hydra's head had helped clear certain things up for him. While he longs to purge Holy Ancient Terra of the filth and scum that plague the surface because of the Chaos Bastards on it, it would be too dangerous to do so at this point.

And that grox shite treaty that the Loyalists had made with the Chaos and Renegade traitors due to a lack of resources and worrying about irreparable harm done to Ancient Terra... are some actually legitimate concerns.

However- one of the individuals that had been in the mind of that Hydra- that small Warp Bond that was between that Hydra's squad and that human. Hm... He wants to research more about those Bond things.

Best way to do that is meet a human that he knows is Bonded and see what he can see. His lips twist up in a smile at that- there was something... warm, that purrs in his chest when he thinks about that Lana- that the Hydras are confusing into allowing them into her life.

So he goes to her place of business- a bakery, he'd acquired some local currency, and from what he'd gotten from the mind of that Hydra he'd interrogated she should be working at this time of day.

That human Lana- who works for another Bonded human who runs the Bakery- spots his massive silver form and ducks in the back. Ah- right, she's Bonded to a Black Templar. Brother Roland, who scowls up at the Uber witch.

The boys had told him and Arnault in bits and pieces about this Gray Knight- and how he'd torment their witch-cursed brothers and call it 'training'. Also how this particular one tried to kidnap Jophiel and Claude.

"What do you want to buy for food," Roland says roughly scowling at Captain Storm Breaker.

"Some of the sweet breads and savory breads," Draco responds pulling out some of the local currency.

"Once you do, leave," Roland says.

"How rude, for someone who you've never met," Draco points out.

"You are a witch," Roland hisses, his blue eyes fever bright- as his hands clench into fists, "be glad I don't strike you down."

"You aren't powerful enough to kill me," Draco sneers down at Roland, "I am a paying customer at the moment, so get the food."

Lana is serving customers- and keeping an eye on Roland and the new Astarte- noticing the way they seem to be getting more and more tense and while she doesn't really know much High Gothic she can tell they might come to blows.

Lana ducks in and calls out, "Becky, Roland looks like he's about to punch someone."

"What?" Becky says sounding surprised as she ducks out of the kitchen and looks the body language of Roland and- that really large silver armored Space Marine. "oh dear."

Lana grabs a mix of sweet and savory breads and nervously approaches the pair of Space Marines. She can almost taste something like ozone coming off of the larger space marine, who's head snaps over to look at her.

"Hello, sir," Lana says a little nervously, "do you want to try some of our baked goods?"

"I would," Draco says, for some reason he feels drawn to this human.

Roland is watching him through narrowed eyes. Draco tastes some of the baked goods and buys the lot on the plate and heads out of the door.

[moodymisty]

Got inspired by the scenario in your Polux snippet (reader being rescued from an overly pushy lord on Terra). Decided to write something for Magnus. Reader is reincarnated from our Earth into Warhammer, but doesn't know anything about Warhammer. I have a ton of reincarnated!reader x Magnus thoughts. Also, sorry if Magnus is OOC. Please enjoy. -🌳 anon

----

The garden on Terra is calm.

You sit on a bench in the garden, watching the leaves sway in the artifical wind. The artifical light that allows the plants to grow warms you up. The artifical river flows gently nearby.

Whenever the truth of Terra's - Earth's - condition hits you, the knowledge that everything you ever knew and loved from Earth is gone, including the animals, the plants, the very water itself, you retreat to one of the many greenhouse gardens on Terra, a tiny slice of what once covered most of the land. A way to ignore for a moment the visceral disgust Terra invokes in you.

You've started favoring this garden recently. It's relatively close to the quarters you share with Magnus, compared to some of the larger gardens. It's small, and doesn't have anything of note. People rarely come here, so it's often just you, your thoughts, and when you're feeling up to it, your voice.

You mumble sing your way through the lyrics you've forgotten, then sing the words you do remember. It's the first time in thousands of years that song had been sung on this planet.

When you finish singing and lapse into silence, you're startled at the applause you hear. You turn around and see a man, probably of a high station based on his uniform, clapping.

"You have a wonderful voice, my lady." He praised.

You're not sure how to react. You'd chosen this garden because it was so often left alone, and now someone had found you here. Additionally, he had heard you singing. Was his compliment genuine? You barely remembered half the lyrics and hadn't done any vocal warm-ups. You doubted you were that good.

"Thank you?" You hesitantly answer.

The man continues speaking. "I've seen you around the Palace recently, my lady, but only now have I been able to catch you to speak. You are beautiful as your voice. Where are you from? I haven't seen you before, so you must have only recently arrived in the Palace."

"Uh," you say, a bit startled. "I'm here with the-"

The man interrupts you, striding forward and grabbing your hand. "Let me show you around, the Palace can be quite tricky to navigate."

"Thank you, but I don't need a tour," you tell the man, trying to tug your hand out of his grip to no avail, "I'm here with the-"

"Nonsense!" The man exclaims. He begins dragging you towards the entrance of the garden. He's a lot stronger than he looks. "It's so easy to get lost in the Palace, and I know all the best spots. I've been here many times before. I've even been granted a permanent bedroom here! It's quite luxurious, I'm sure I could show you later. And perhaps we could share some wine? It was gifted to me by Primarch Magnus himself! He's the one in charge of the Thousand Sons Astartes Chapter. I'm in charge of providing the Thousand Sons chapter with the ore that is needed for the pigment of their armor, you see. So I've met Primarch Magnus quite a few times. Why, he once told me-"

You tune the man out as he continues to drag you along, instead focusing on how to get yourself out of this situation. The man won't stop talking enough for you to get a word in, so you can't tell him that you (technically) serve the Thousand Sons directly. You can't scream for help, the garden is empty except the two of you, and you doubt there would be any in the hallway leading to the garden who would either be high ranked enough or strong enough to get this man to let go of you.

Actually, you can think of a way screaming for help might work.

Magnus! You scream in your mind. Magnus, please help me!

Magnus had once told you the sound of your thoughts were quite distinctive. You're hoping that he'll hear your discomfort through his powers and come rescue you.

Sure enough, just as the man drags you into sight of the garden entrance, Magnus walks through the doors. The man stumbles to a stop and stops talking, obviously surprised at the sight of the Primarch here.

"Lord Magnus! What a surprise-"

"Let go of her."

Magnus's voice is deep, and obviously upset. The man releases your hand immediately.

As soon as your hand is free, you run to Magnus's side. He wraps an arm around your shoulders protectively, still glaring at the man.

The man is surprised by this. "Oh, she was one of yours? M-my apologies Lord Magnus, I didn't realize-"

"Leave."

The man does so.

Magnus waits for a minute or two, until presumably even his advanced Primarch hearing can't hear the man leaving anymore. Then, he turns to you.

"Are you alright? Did he hurt you anywhere?"

You smile up at him. "I'm all fine now that you're here. Thank you for coming, Maggy."

You know that if Magnus's title was something other than "the Red", he would've blushed.

"The arrogance of these Terran lords." Magnus fumes. "Attempting to kidnap my woman."

You blush at how possessive his tone is. "I don't think he knew."

"Irrelevant. He should have known to stop speaking to you as soon as he knew you were of my legion."

"He didn't even let me tell him so." You admit.

Magnus growls. "I'll be having words with that man."

You feel the tiniest tinge of pity for the man, but it's gone as soon as it appeared.

Magnus grasps your hand. "Let's return to our chambers."

You snuggle into his side. "Sounds good to me."

"I'll be assigning you a guard to accompany you in the future. I don't want a repeat of this."

"Yeah, I think that sounds good. Having an Astartes around would have helped. Of course," you add teasingly, walking your fingers up his arm. "I got someone even better."

The look Magnus gives you tells you you're going to be having a fun time tonight.

love the idea that magnus can hear our thoughts if we're loud enough, that surely will not be used for anything nefarious

[dyushas]

I return two months later with another people standing image but this time it's Younger Character Designs for the Wayfinder Trio, because I don't think they should look exactly the same for four years straight of their adolescence. So this is how I imagine them when Ven had only just arrived in the Land of Departure

Thought-process notes under the cut (mild spoilers ig):

Terra:

-I think Terra is a creature of habit and has been dressing mostly the same since at least puberty, especially since his style is the most like Eraqus' (in my opinion) and I think most people would copy their parents less as they get closer to adulthood instead of more, but what do I know? Idk what I'm even talking about half the time. It's ultimately vibes, I just think that's his brand of autism. But I had to do it at least a little differently to justify the drawing

-Obviously he is like four years younger or something here so he's not as good at things yet or he would've just taken the Mark of Mastery then, so he's got a wrist brace to show he has fucked up his wrist. To show he's still not good at things. I am very intelligent

-I didn't want to draw the full arm piece but I pretend it's because he hasn't worked his way up to handling that much extra weight on one side yet

-I think the red shirt and the patterns look nice so I also did that

-Aqua cut his hair and she isn't that good at it

-I think he's meant to have brown eyes

Aqua:

-She's got so many flowy bits in her canon outfit and I think it probably took her awhile to achieve the kind of control needed for those to not just be a hazard, so at this point she's a younger teen and she isn't there yet, but she can still afford to add a bit of flair

-I was looking at ballet warm-up clothes like those trash bag shorts cause she's got this dancer thing going on

-She and Terra have the same style of shirt because I thought it would be cute and emphasize their closeness as well as the fact that Ven is somewhat of an outsider here at this point

-She has a knee thing. She hurt her knee. She probably fell trying to figure out that fuckass twirl she does sometimes or something

-She cut her own hair but had Terra help with the back. Mistakes were made

-Terra's nails are painted, too, I just drew him with the wrong hand position to show it. The two of them have been the only other kids around for a good while so they hang out when they're supposed to be asleep sometimes to study their keyblade stuff and then get distracted with something silly and joke back and forth, and they paint each other's nails and share clothes sometimes, although this is getting harder cause they're less and less the same size. And then the next day, Eraqus has to tell them off because Aqua is mad Terra's hogging the bathroom and now they're at each other's throats. Just the way it is

Ventus:

-I can write off everyone looking the same in the flashbacks in BBS cause it was a PSP game and they'd already made a lot of new character models so like. I can think "it was just a practicality thing, they probably didn't actually look the same back then" but Ventus also has the same outfit in UX and I pretend I do not see it. There's no way. He needs something else, his skin is sticking to his clothes. It's just not right, it's not ethical, he's only a boy

-I let him keep the waistcoat though cause it feels SO UX era, everyone in that damn game has a little waistcoat and then no one (?) in the console games does. So my thought process is that this one thing is for SURE from tha past and he just keeps wearing it. He's a little vintage

-He has shorts because ummm :P

-Sora had shorts both as a little baby in BBS and a larger baby in KH1, and then as he's been depicted as less kiddish and more teenaged they have him in those cropped pants now. So it's a Sora parallel. Shorts are just the little boys garment

-"But what if his legs get cold?" Well clearly I thought of that

-He has no armor bits because at this point in time he's just been through a lot of trauma and has only just woken up from a mild coma (for him), so he's all kinds of unwell and I don't think he's really doing any proper training yet. Eraqus already kind of babied him in the main story, so he was probably truly swaddled back then. He's dressed for COMFORT

-This meant he also needed different shoes so I drew some. They're not very remarkable

-I gave him a little jacket because I tried drawing him just without one and I didn't like it, he didn't look enough like he spends his days skulking around and looking sad and not getting to hit things with his keyblade, so I gave him something haori-adjacent like it's maybe something Eraqus had lying around and let him wear like how my mom starts putting her jackets on me when she thinks I'm acting sick. But it has black and white checks on the sleeves because I had to put them SOMEWHERE or else it wouldn't be right and every other option I could think of sounded ugly

-I CAN'T EXPLAIN THE LEGWARMERS, I just wanted him to have a unique silhouette that makes him look like he's been sitting the fuck around

-He just has the same hair as he had in UX, which is his original hair but shorter

That's it unless I forgot something in which case you can ask and I may or may not have an answer.

I might also draw Vanitas in this time period even though I'd just give him the same outfit he always has since it's a magic outfit or whatever, but like for the sake of imagining him Small. Vote now on your phones if I should or not so I can disregard it and do whatever I feel like anyway

[mothiir]

little rabbit - e.g the droit seigneur fic

authors notes: first time I’ve written fanfic in an age and it’s 40k smut. Inspired by @moodymisty’s amazing continuations of that one unhinged ask I sent about the emperor cucking his sons (on anon because I was not expecting people to actually vibe with it)

Cw: dubcon, size kink like woah.

It has been a long, long time since he’s had a human woman -- oh, back in the halcyon days of his youth, back when Terra was the only planet he knew, he was a warlord with the tastes of a warlord, and left many a pretty young thing with trembling thighs and flushed cheeks (or with teary eyes and puffy lips, depending on his mood). But the mission, the hungry endless gaze of the monsters beyond the stars, the crushing weight of his responsibility -- it distracted him. There were far more important things that called his attention, and as hundreds of years became thousands his power grew, and his humanity atrophied. Sexual desire, he assumed, went the way of compassion and affection: sloughed aside, deemed unnecessary and detrimental to his greater purpose. 

But even the greatest man to ever step foot on the red earth can be wrong sometimes, and for the first time in millenia he is glad of it. The girl in his lap was not even born --nor, for that matter, were her grandparents’ grandparents -- the last time he bedded anyone, and the thought stirs some deep, primal part of him, a sense of ownership. 

“Easy,” he rumbles, as she whimpers and shivers, her tiny body barely able to take even the head of his cock. He strokes her sides, kisses her jawbone, then mouths along her jugular, relishing the rabbit thrum of her heart against his tongue. “We have all the time in the world. Take it slowly.”

He’s getting sentimental in his old age, he swears. Time was, he would have split her clean open in his desire to get inside -- though, of course, that was when he was a good deal smaller than he is now. He has no desire to rip her asunder on his prick. 

She hiccups and whines, his hands moving to her hips, spanning not only her waist but the lean length of her thighs. 

“Hurts,” she manages, and he chuckles.

“Yes. But you’re a good girl, aren’t you? You can do it.”

He knows she’s stronger than she looks. When he found her, she was in Roboute’s quarters, smelling of the Primach’s sweat. He didn’t think his son indulged in his serfs, but he cannot begrudge him the distraction -- after all, Gulliman is precisely the soldier the Emperor needs him to be. A little too uptight, perhaps, and altogether too fond of spreadsheets, but a useful strategist. And, apparently, someone who shares his father’s excellent taste in human women. 

“I -- I don’t know --”

She wriggles herself over him, and he spares one hand to hold his cock still, making it easier for her. The mere fact that she is arguing back has him pulsing with desire; it has been so so long that a human has looked at his shining face without falling to their knees in supplication, let alone since one has argued back when he demands the impossible. 

Well: seemingly impossible. He is larger than Roboute, but not insurmountably so, and he has unending faith in the indomitable human spirit. And in the accommodating stretch of the human insides. 

There’s an almost audible pop as he finally pushes inside, and she cries out. 

“Oh god --  I mean -- shit -- I don’t mean I believe in gods -- I don’t -- ”

Her eyes widen with fear, and he laughs -- a deep bass rumble that she probably feels in her marrow.

“Lord is an appropriate term of address,” he says, teasingly, nuzzling at the top of her head. It’s adorable just how nervy she is; like a small animal clasped in his hands. A rabbit cowering before a bear. 

“Yes -- yes my lord --” she pants, and he allows her a moment to adjust, before starting to pull her down onto him. She’s warm and soft inside, overwhelmingly so, and the Emperor moans with appreciation, awkwardly hunching his shoulders so he can continue to lave his tongue and teeth over her neck -- before pulling back so he can admire the way her belly bulges around his girth, his cock pushing aside her insides to make room for him. 

She’s whimpering, her fists clenched in his robes, salt tears starting to drip down her cheeks. He licks them away. It’s all so much for her -- too much. And yet the little warrior does not quibble or complain; she takes him, and takes him, and when he’s seated all the way to the hilt, her small body flush with his lap, he rewards her with a moment’s pause, and another deep kiss, exploring the inside of her mouth. She’s small enough that his tongue practically fills her up, sinking almost to her gullet, heedless of her blunt human teeth. 

“There,” he says, and she coughs out a proper sob, so clearly stretched to the absolute limits. He rubs at the outline of his cock inside her, her skin stretched taut around him. “Now. Let’s begin.”

[avatarmerida]

This is inspired by a tweet I say awhile ago that I can’t find anymore (but when I do I will link it here) with the idea of Darius brining in Willow as Hunter’s personal trainer. It’s just goofy and cute I think.

“Based on the less than satisfactory results of your last mission, I’ve made the executive decision to get you a personal trainer,” said Darius with a smirk as he walked the young boy out to the training area. Hunter was less than thrilled about the idea and made no effort to hide it.

“Seriously?” He scoffed, crossing his arms. “I’m hardly the coven head who needs a personal trainer! When’s the last time Terra did laps? I’m positive that any trainer you could find would just slow me down.”

“I think I’d meet the trainer before speaking so harshly, little prince,” said Darius. “You may find that they do in fact have a few things to teach you.”

“I highly doubt that,” he continued, rolling his eyes. “Honestly, this whole idea is a waste of time and a load of-.”

“Hi Hunter!�� Came a bubbly, bright, and familiar voice. Hunter’s blood froze as his cheeks reddened, thinking her an illusion at first.

“C-Captain!” He croaked, both delighted and mortified. Had he known it was her he would’ve been on time and he would’ve made more of an effort with his appearance. “H-hey! Hi! How are you?”

She giggled. “I’m great,” she said with a smile, using a vine to slide closer to him. “You ready for some training?”

“Yeah! Totally! Haha.” He responded nervously. “I’d do anything with you! For you! Uh, I mean, yes I am ready for training.”

“Smooth,” said Darius and Hunter shot him a glare over his shoulder. Willow didn’t seem to notice.

“So uh, I didn’t know that you were uh… coming today,” started Hunter, not knowing how to say what he meant. “I mean, I-I’m happy to see you! Again! I just uh…”

“Sorry I didn’t tell you,” said Willow with a smile. “It was kind of last minute and Darius wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Oh he did, did he?” Hunter said between clenched teeth. He wondered what kind of ‘surprise’ Darius intended it to be. It would explain why he kept asking about her with a knowing smirk lately.

“Have fun, you two,” Darius said with a wave as he disappeared around the corner. “You can thank me later, little prince.”

“Okay! Haha! Byeeee!” said Hunter forcefully before turning back to Willow, hoping she could tell he was genuinely delighted to see her, despite the ambush of it all. She was wearing a yellow tank top with striped green shorts, and Hunter wondered if she had come prepared or if she had been interrupted by Darius’ request. Surely she was being compensated for her time, there was no way she’d be willing to give up a whole afternoon to help him. He had told her about the castle’s training facility and the equipment, maybe she just wanted to see it for herself. For some reason he couldn’t allow himself to believe she’d come all this way because she liked the idea of spending time with him.

“Where’s Flapjack?” she asked, interrupting his mental spiral. He didn’t realize he had been staring.

“Oh, uh…” Hunter quickly looked around before stepping closer to her to whisper. “I’m uh technically not supposed to have a palisman so he’s taking a nap in my room.”

“Oh, gotcha,” she whispered back. Clover flew onto her shoulder and buzzed something into her ear. “Yeah, good idea,” she said to the little bee. “You go find him and you two can play, so long as you stay out of sight, got it?” Clover gave a little nod before flying away.

“Looks like it’s just you and me,” said Willow softly and Hunter knew his face envied the grass beneath their feet. It was odd seeing Willow here, she seemed so out of place yet she brought a warmth the castle needed that made him wish she’d stay forever.

“Yeah,” he said, unable to stop his smile. “Looks like it is.”

“Okay, so how do you normally warm up?” she asked as she stretched her arms.

“Oh, I’m always warmed up,” he said quickly. “You never know when an attack might come so I make sure I’m always, ya know, ready to go.”

“I figured as much,” she giggled. “Well then, do you mind helping me catch up?”

He smiled. “Lead the way, captain.”

“All right then,” grinned Willow, grabbing her ankle to stretch out her legs. “Let’s see if you can keep up, golden boy.”

She took off and Hunter knew that realistically they should be doing more of a jog, something to keep a steady pace and regulate their heart rate but Willow ran free as though challenging him to catch her. He didn’t know why he thought of catching her not beating her but he started running nevertheless. Willow turned around, delighted to see him running after her as the two soon ran side by side. Usually Hunter didn’t find running enjoyable, but Willow had a habit of changing his perspective fairly easily.

He was so focused on the endorphins, he didn’t notice Willow slyly glance at him from the corner of her eye. She was grateful he didn’t see, so he wouldn’t suspect it was because she thought the way he scrunched his face as he ran was terribly cute.

After a few laps around the area, the two were ready for Willow’s lesson plan.

“Alright, so what did you wanna work on first?” Willow asked brightly, looking around the outdoor gym and the wide array of tools at their disposal. There were weights, weapons, obstacle courses; only the best for the Isles’ best. It was like being in a candy store.

“Oh, uh ya know whatever you wanna do,” Hunter responded, attempting to be nonchalant. “I-I’m totally chill, totally like not even like… ya know just whatever you think I’m sure uh…”

“Well, Darius mentioned you were having trouble with one on one stuff,” offered Willow, cutting off his rambing despite finding it endearing.

“Well I normally use my teleporting, so I-,” before Hunter could finish, Willow took the staff from him.

“But what if you couldn’t?” Willow said mischievously.

Hunter smirked and went to take his staff back but Willow whisked it out of reach at the last second. “Okay,” he said, her mischievousness spreading as she twirled his property behind her back. “Worried I’m too quick for you captain?”

“Mhmm, not exactly,” she chuckled. “But my dads were telling me about drills they used to do for flyer derby. See, using magic is great but sometimes when you’re in triple overtime you start feeling drained and your magic can get sloppy or weak.”

“Yeah, but mine is artificial so I don’t have to worry about that,” he countered.

“You do when you’re unarmed,” she said, swiftly bringing the staff out from behind her back and sweeping him off his feet with it. He didn’t land on the hard ground, as she had a large soft flower ready to catch him.

“Fair enough,” he said from the comfort of his personal flower. “But is playing keep away really part of your curriculum?”

“I know it seems a little silly,” she said as she walked around him. “But that’s what flyer derby is, the winner isn’t always the one who delivers the hardest blow, it’s usually the one with the most endurance.”

“Hmm, yeah I get it,” he said. Hunter had become accustomed to dodging blows and only striking when necessary, and a part of him lit up at the thought of getting to impress Willow by executing her vision perfectly. “Sounds like a good plan Captain, but then shouldn’t I have something to defend too? I mean, if my objective is to retrieve my staff and your only objective is to keep it from me, in a battle you’d simply need to find a way to escape to win. Doesn’t seem like a believable scenario for you to fight me without cause of your own.”

“Hmm, okay far enough,” she said, seeing his point. “I don’t know if I have anything with me to try and- oh! What about my glasses?”

“Your glasses?” said Hunter, as he finally stood up. “But you need them to see.”

“And they get knocked off all the time in practice,” she said. “I cast a protection spell on them before each practice so I'm not worried about them breaking but when they fall off they slow me down and other teams try to do it on purpose if the match is close enough. It would be a good challenge to try and heighten my other senses.”

“You want me to take your glasses?”

“They won’t break,” she assured him as she removed them, shaking her head as she did. The motion made Hunter’s heart flip a little bit, the way she subconsciously flipped her hair. He liked her glasses, he viewed them as frames like her eyes were watercolors on display. But without them he could see her eyes even clearer and even better she wasn’t able to see him stare.

“Here,” she said, squinting as she handed them to him. “You can put them on the front of your shirt, it’ll be just like in derby practice.”

He held up her glasses to see how they altered the scenery. “Oh wow, you really can’t see anything, huh?”

“Oh stop,” Willow teased back. “As if you can see any better in that mask of yours.”

“Excuse you, I can see just fine,”

“Suuure you can,” scoffed Willow, walking over to the bench to pick it up. She observed it for a moment, somewhat taken back by how it wasn’t as shiny up close. She didn’t think too much about the dents and scratches she could tell he had attempted to buff out as she placed it on her face, trying to line up her eyes. “Oh wow, you really can’t see anything in this.”

“What? Yes I can,” laughed Hunter at her dramatics. “You just can’t see anything because you took off your glasses.”

“Even so, the eye thing is so small,” she continued as she continued to turn to try and make out her surroundings. “Plus it’s so echoey, how can you hear anything in this? Is that why you do the voice?”

“‘The voice?’ What voice?”

“Ya know, your serious voice,” she said as though it was totally obvious. “When you’re all ‘here’s how things are gonna work, I’m the Golden Guard, bow down to me har har har.’”

“‘Har har har?’” Hunter repeated, unimpressed as he crossed his arms. “When have I ever said that?”

“Well, I dunno you don’t do the voice to me,” admitted Willow. “It’s mostly an impression of Luz’s impression of you.”

He couldn’t say he was totally clueless to what she meant, the mask gave him the opportunity to be taken seriously. But he liked that Willow knew a different side of him, that she could see through his act. Had anybody else done an impression of him, it would be to try and make him feel small or less than but when she did it, it was funny. Because he knew that she knew he was so much more, that the mask truly was just something on the surface.

He couldn’t help but smile as she went on to create her own character with his mask, inventing her own version of the voice and her own crime fighting backstory. She was silly, and he wasn’t used to having silliness in his life. She was genuine and kind and strong and pretty and… Titan, when he started thinking about all the things she was, it was like he couldn’t stop. He had never had someone in his life like her and he was convinced it was because there was no one out there quite like Willow Park. But he didn’t think too much into his overthinking, he assumed everyone felt this way about her.

Right now he was trying not to focus on the fact that her lips were touching where his normally did and how it didn’t seem to bother her. He knew he’d think about it every time he wore the mask from now on.

“Anyway,” Willow wrapped up her impromptu performance, realizing she had gotten carried away. “We should probably get started, huh?”

Hunter didn’t realize he had been staring and had to shake himself out of his daze to answer her. “Oh, yeah! Sure, o-of course.”

“Okay then,” Willow smiled, handing him his mask back. “Derby rules: first one to get their item back wins.”

“Alright,” agreed Hunter, making sure her glasses were secure hanging from his shirt. “So since you have my staff, I’m guessing no magic then?”

“Weeell, I mean I still have my magic,” Willow teased and even without her glasses she could tell Hunter was lovingly rolling his eyes. “Fine, no magic. Just good old fashioned hand to hand combat, for now at least.” She gave him a wink.

“Fine,” said Hunter as he watched Willow tighten her braids. The idea of competition brought out a certain light in her eyes and it made Hunter excited. He knew Willow liked his competitive side, but usually they were on a team together. Competing against her was different.

“I mean, if you need to use magic I-I don’t mind,” he said quickly.

“I’m okay,” she assured him. “Besides, I don’t wanna do too much damage to your field here.”

“Yeah, yeah totally,” said Hunter, clearing his throat. “I just don’t want to uh…”

“Oh,” said Willow, seeing the hesitation in his eyes. “Hunter, it’s okay if you beat me ya know.”

“You… won’t be mad?”

She shook her head. “Of course not,” she smiled sincerely. “Knowing your strengths will help me help you. And you not holding back will help me get better too.”

“It’s just that… when I spar with the other scouts they always get upset when I win and then they don’t wanna… uh.”

“Ohhh,” she said, really understanding. “Hunter, if we spar and I win will you stop being my friend?”

“No!” He responded immediately. He remembered the utter euphoria he felt when Willow had referred to him as her friend when they were messaging one night. He had been asking about her day, simultaneously vicariously living through her and wishing he could be there in person when she mentioned her dads asked about him and wanted to have him over for dinner as they did with all her friends.

He waited for her to unsend or correct the message but she didn’t. She meant it. He was her friend and she wasn’t afraid to let everyone know. He was beyond honored to be considered her friend, and he would do absolutely anything to make sure he did not lose that title.

“Of course not,” he said with conviction and Willow nodded.

“Exactly, so if you win I’m not gonna stop liking you or anything I’m just gonna try harder next time,” she said as though it was truly so easy. “I mean, if you win. I don’t plan on going easy on you.” She spun his staff around herself as though to emphasize her point and the light in her eyes was contagious as Hunter felt motivated again. He donned his mask and took his usual fighting stance, waiting for her to deliver the first blow as he prepared his strategy in his head.

Hunter was quick but Willow was tricky. Both their strategies revolved around defending and similarity made it difficult to properly start as neither of them wanted to strike the other. But once they prioritized the task at hand (retrieving their items) they became more comfortable with the idea.

Willow made the first move, using Hunter’s staff to launch herself towards him to try and snatch her glasses from him. But Hunter quickly countered and leapt over her, getting his hands on his staff but not succeeding in removing it from Willow’s grasp. She used the momentum to send him flying toward the ground, but he was able to rise to his feet no problem. Hunter knew he had the upper hand, he knew the area better and he had a bigger target to claim. But Willow was true to her word about not making it easy for him. She didn’t play dirty as many of the scouts did and Hunter was giddy at the idea of truly getting to test his skills.

Willow couldn’t help but think of it like dancing. The way their steps complimented each other, the way they’d get just close enough to hear the other person breathing. Every so often she’d get bold enough to tease him.

“Tsk tsk tsk, you really thought I’d fall for that?” she asked when he tried to fake her out and his ears would get red and he’d come back at her with more determination. She had nearly forgotten she was trying to get close to him to retrieve her glasses, she was more focused on getting close to him so she could see his reaction. She reached for them once and he grabbed her wrist to stop her, but he quickly retracted it. Willow wanted to point out that he should;ve sed that opportunity to disarm her but she decided against and tried to think of something cheeky to say the next time it happened.

She was excited to be able to have someone who took this as seriously as she did but still managed to have fun. Amity was serious but was still so worried about hurting her and Luz and Gus were fun to train with but sometimes were too silly and couldn’t keep up with her when she got in the zone. Hunter was the perfect opponent.

Hunter observed the way Willow moved and while he found her to be a remarkable force, he felt he had discovered his way to victory. As agile as she was, she favored her right side. If he wanted to catch her off guard, he would need to approach her from the left and grab the staff while she turned to her less dominant side. He sprang into action but Willow anticipated this and as he went to turn, she stuck out her foot accidentally causing Hunter to lose his balance. He managed to grab his staff but Wilow did not let go and so they both ended up hurtling to the ground. Willow had shifted the staff behind her head and landed atop it with it resting behind her neck. Hunter in turn landed atop Willow, his hands catching him, placed on either side of her head as his nose was mere inches from hers.

Their breathing lined up as she stared up at him, close enough where he was in focus. His face red and his eyes wide as he waited for her to say something. She knew his mind was shouting a thousand apologies, that he was deciding what to be embarrassed about first, but he didn't need to be. She carefully removed her hands from the staff and reached up to grab her glasses as they dangled above her.

“Not bad,” she said smugly. “For a first session, that is.”

“Ha, uh thanks,” he said, praying that the sweat he knew was collecting on his brow wouldn't fall onto her. But he was paralyzed. He was hypnotized. He was utterly captivated by how picturesque she looked, her frizzy braids sprawled out on the ground like a halo. She made no attempt to move either, likewise captivated by the way the sunlight above him outlined his frame. He truly was golden and she thought about telling him so but she was hoping he would have something more to say first.

He wanted to but just as he went to open his mouth, his attention was diverted by a new voice.

“Yeah, Golden Guard!”

“Smooth move pipsqueak!”

“Looks like the private lessons are going well!”

Hunter’s eyes shot up in horror as he saw a collection of scouts had gathered on the balcony above and had been watching him and Willow spar. It was then that he realized how… compromising their current position looked.

“Uhhhh let me get you a water,” Hunter offered as he leapt away from her like she was on fire.

“Okay, thanks,” said Willow with a smile as she sat up. “But hurry back! We’ve got a lot to get through.”

“Haha, totally,’ he said, giving her finger guns in a panic response as he speed walked up to the balcony.

“Having fun, little prince?” asked Darius, sipping a cup of tea as the scouts offered a series of whistles and comments as he walked past them, his face hopelessly flushed.

“What are they doing?” Hunter whispered in a panic. “I thought this was supposed to be a private instruction.”

“Oh, is that so?” Darius said with a smirk.

“You were the one who arranged this,” Hunter hissed, his eyes darting down to Willow who thankfully seemed unaware of their audience.

“Fine, fine, “ he said. “Come now scouts, let’s give the Golden Guard some privacy.”

“Ohhh, you wanna be alone with your plant girlfriend?” teased a scout as the scouts tried to suppress their giggles.

“Yes, thank you,” said Hunter, not missing a beat.

“Okay, okay, just to be clear, you and your plant girlfriend want to be alone,” asked another.

“Yes, that’s an order!” said Hunter, feeling his authority was being honored. But just as he went to leave, the scouts burst into laughter. This was nothing terribly new, they often found ways to undermine him. But he failed to see what was so funny about-

Then he saw Darius was also suppressing his laughter and suddenly the words caught up to him. Hunter’s face turned a deep shade of crimson and he felt like steam was coming out of his ears. “Oh… shut up!” he demanded as the room erupted into another round of prepared remarks.

From the ground, Willow could just barely make out the faint sounds of laughter. As she strained to hear any specifics, Clover flew down to meet her buzzing with news from Flapjack having not gotten to see her best friend in awhile. She nuzzled her owner who was eager to hear about her day. Willow quickly looked for something to do, trying to look busy like she wasn’t overthinking what was taking him so long. Not because she was nervous, but because she didn’t get to spend much time with him as it was. She wanted to try and squeeze in some time to talk to him in person instead of texting.

As Hunter marched back with water for Willow, he could feel the scouts still watching him. He didn’t call up to them because knew making a scene would only embarrass him in front of Willow, or worse make her feel uneasy. He just hoped they’d keep quiet.

When he came back to Willow, she was balancing a free weight on the tip of her finger. “Hey Hunter,” she beamed, her eyes darting between him and the weight. “Check it out!” she carefully lifted her hand and threw the weight into the air, it flipped and then she caught once more with apparent ease.

“Impressive,” he said as he handed her the water bottle and offered her a smile, which quickly dissolved when he heard the collective sounds of over dramatic kissy noises coming at them from the balcony. He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, there was no way Willow didn’t hear them this time.

“Ugh, I’m sorry, please ignore them,” Hunter pleaded. Willow couldn’t care less about what the scouts thought, she only cared about what Hunter felt. The notion that they were bullying him sent a sharp chill up her chest, and she had to take a deep breath to steady herself before responding.

“Okay,” she said, her eyes momentarily darting to them anyway trying to get a quick read on their intentions. “But is everything alright? Did they say something to you?”

“No,no… well yes,” he admitted, unable to convincingly lie when her eyes caught his. “But it’s nothing bad, just teasing.”

“Hunter, it’s not nothing if it’s bothering you,” she assured him. “I can say something if-.”

“No, no it’s stupid,” he cut her off, starting to feel nervous and twisted. “I mean, it’s not stupid it’s about you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “But it’s nothing bad about you, because you’re amazing. It’s just… I’ve never had a friend over to the castle before.”

“Oh,” she said, hoping he’d elaborate.

“Yeah and so I guess they thought… and it’s my fault because I didn’t even think about it, that you were my… more than a friend.”

“Oooh,” Willow fully understood now. “I see.”

“And it’s totally my fault because of how I described you so I-.”

“How did you describe me?” she asked almost breathlessly.

“I uh, well after the whole… kidnapping thing, they would talk about you sometimes,” he began. “And they asked if you were my plant girlfriend and I said yes.”

“Okay,”

“And I know there’s so much more to you than just plants,” Hunter went on. “But you are on the plant track and so it seemed like a suitable identifier at the time but it wasn’t until just now that I realized that the words ‘girl’ and ‘friend’ were not separate so they weren’t saying that you were a plant girl who was my friend but rather you liked plants and you were my… uh…”

“Don’t even worry about it,” said Willow sweetly. “I get it; my dads like to tease me too.”

“They do?”

“Yeah,” she chuckled. “Whenever I bring someone cute over to the house they can’t help themselves. But it doesn’t last very long.”

Someone cute, someone cute, his mind rang out. His mind quickly bounced back when he realized she was the someone cute in this situation. Because she was very cute. Had he always thought that? Pssh, everyone thought that. Willow was objectively cute, it was a fact. It made sense the guards found the notion silly that someone so cute would associate with him.

“I mean, if you ever came to my house it’d be the same thing,” she continued and before Hunter could offer a response, his heart stopped. The way it did when she had pinned him down. Her fathers would consider him cute enough to tease? More importantly, she considered him cute at all? Even hypothetically?

“Yeah, Darius keeps telling them it’s not like that,” said Hunter. “He said I wouldn’t even know what to do with a girl like you and the scouts said I have no game anyway, but I didn’t bother debating with them since training is serious and not about games.”

“Oooh,” said Willow once more, as the narrative shifted again. They weren’t teasing him like assuming parents, they were teasing him like obnoxious siblings. Her mind pulled up all the times Ed and Em had evoked the same response in Amity. She knew the best way to combat this was confidence, and to make them eat their words. She was positive they couldn’t hear them, as they seemed to not be whispering and Willow could not hear them from where they stood, so she made sure to have her actions speak for her. She reached out and touched Hunter’s arm.

“I bet they tease you all the time, huh?” She smiled. “I mean, you’re the Golden Guard. I'm sure plenty of teenagers have crushes on you.”

“Uh, not really?” Said Hunter, unable to focus for a moment when he registered her touch. He was grateful to have learned the definition of a crush so he didn’t embarrass himself in front of Willow the way he had when he misunderstood the word when Darius used it. “I mean, I wear my mask most of the time. I don’t know how you can have a crush on someone you can’t see.”

“Hmm, yeah I guess seeing does help with that,” she said softly and Hunter knew he’d be thinking about the way she said that sentence all week. It was like she knew something and she let a clue dwell just under the surface of the words. He had never heard the assumption that his position would make him attractive to his peers (respected and feared, yes but not admired). He wondered why Willow would assume it. He dared to hope she’d relate.

“C’mere,” she said, moving closer to him.

“W-what are you doing?” He nervously chuckled as she pretended to dust something off his shoulder.

“Let’s give them something to talk about,” she said with an innocent shrug. “Something I’ve learned is that when you’re in on the joke, it’s not as funny anymore.”

“O-okay?”

“Trust me,” Willow said with a wink. “This is the kind of teasing I know how to stop. Now, I’m gonna laugh really loud like you just said something funny and then I’m gonna lightly shove your shoulder and when I do I want you to take my hand, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah I can do that,” he said, thankful his back was to the scouts and they couldn’t see him sweat. Even worse though, Willow could see. But she somehow didn’t seem to mind, keeping her cool as she kept smiling at him like it came naturally to her.

She threw her head back and let out a light, airy laugh. Hunter knew it wasn’t genuine, but it would fool most anyone else. She flipped her braid before shoving his shoulder as she said she would, lingering there a moment to remind him to take her hand. He somehow knew what to do with it, bringing it down to their sides as he had seen teen couples do when he went into town.

“Okay good,” she whispered. “Now lean against the wall and I’ll pretend you said something cool.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno, just say anything and I’ll pretend you told me something cool.”

“What about how the venomous fly trap can live in below freezing temperatures if it’s watered with as little as two ounces of boiling rain once a year?”

“Oh yeah, that is pretty cool,” she said. Hunter could tell she genuinely meant it and he smiled, having memorized that fact solely because he thought it would interest her. His smile inspired hers to linger and they stood in comfortable, smiling silence for a few moments.

Out of the corner of her eye, Willow saw one scout nudge another, as though impressed and Willow knew her plan was working. She was doing this to help improve Hunter’s cred and for no other reason, right?

Okay, maybe it was a little fun.

Maybe it was a little easy.

Too easy.

She rose onto her tiptoes, placing her hand delicately on Hunter’s chest to steady herself as she went to whisper in his ear.

“Okay, now walk me to the gate and when I leave don’t look up at them,” she instructed. “Take out your scroll or something, act totally casual.”

“Okay,” he said, a chill running down his spine as her breath hit the side of his face. “But why?”

“We want the scouts to think it’s no big deal,” she explained, as they began to walk hand in hand. “Because you totally have game.”

“I’m sorry, I still don’t understand,” he said as she lead him to the gate. “What kind of game is it exactly?”

Willow chuckled and tucked her hair behind her ear, having reached the exit. She didn’t have to try hard to make it look like she was dreading having to leave. “Hmmm I think we’ll make it part of next week’s lesson,” she said, biting her lip as he continued to offer her a look of confusion.

“Well, alright then,” said Hunter. “Looking forward to it, Captain.”

He waved to her until she was completely out of sight, watching as she soon flew away on Clover.

“Sir! Here’s that water you asked for!” came a voice from behind Hunter. He turned and saw Steve running out with a large, overflowing jug.

“Oh, uh thanks Steve but we’re okay,” said Hunter, feeling like he was leaving a fence taking his eyes off where Willow had last stood. “But I gave her one of Darius’ fancy waters.”

“Oh, okay,” said Steve, dropping the jug without a second thought. “Did you two have fun?”

“Yeah,” said Hunter, smiling in spite of himself. “I did. I hope she did too.”

“Oh totally sir, I watched the whole thing,” assured Steve with a thumbs up. “She was definitely feeling the vibe, she was seriously flirting with you.”

“Huh? Oh, that,” Hunter sighed. “No, between you and me she was just pretending so they’d stop teasing me up there.”

“Really? It was pretty convincing,” marveled Steve.

“Really?” Said Hunter, trying to hide his excitement. “You uh, really think she’d laugh like that at something I said for real?”

He had never dreamed he’d be considered amusing but he had to admit her adored the sound of Willow’s laughter.

“Uh, well I don’t remember her laughing at anything,” said Steve, thinking. “But I left to go get water when you said you needed a water. I was mostly talking about how she smiled when she saw you walk in, I didn’t know you guys planned all that in advance.”

“We, uh w-we didn’t,” said Hunter, clearing his throat.

“Oh,” said Steve, not totally understanding. “Well then, you guys are pretty in sync with your improv.”