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celestia0473 · 1 day ago

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Soulmate AU (Killers x Survivor!Reader) [1/?]

Summary: You spent a lot of time in your normal life wondering if you would ever find your soulmate. However, when you were pulled into the fog, you never expected your soulmate would be a Killer!

Soulmate AU: You and your soulmate share matching tattoos. Killers: Trickster, Legion (Susie), Pig, Ghostface Warnings: blood mention, it's dead by daylight need i say more? soulmate au, not proof read :3, etc.

A/N: is it obvious i wrote these at different times lol. i love the idea of soulmate aus and wanted to write one for the first post of this silly little blog. my carpal tunnel started to kick in while writing ghostface's segment. i must now rest! also fun fact i have tattoos of my own so i thought that au would be fun to write!

Ji-Woon Hak (Trickster)

You always had a very strange tattoo on your shoulder of a bloody knife that was hues of pink, purple, and blue with a black handle. You had no idea what kind of person your soulmate could be for that kind of tattoo to be int indicator, but you could only hope they weren't a complete psycho. (spoiler alert, they are).

When you were dragged into the fog, your hopes and dreams of ever meeting them were crushed. You had no choice but to surrender those to the Entity and suffer through her trials. Little did you know that the fates were cruel and your entire life was going to change. (well more than it already has).

It was your very first trial. The other survivors were kind enough to give you a quick rundown on what to do before the trial had started. However, they couldn't warn you about any of the various killers. So when you heard distant footsteps and your heart racing faster, you didn't think to start running immediately.

It was only when you felt the stinging pain of a bladed bat in your back when you thought to run. You looked behind you and saw him. The crazed look in his eyes as he started to chase you, the giggles he let out as you ran, leaving a trail of blood behind you. You noticed him pull out a set of throwing knives from his pocket and your eyes went wide. They looked exactly like your tattoo.

You stopped dead in your tracks and faced him. He raised an eyebrow and looked at you very confused. "Why did you stop running? You're ruining this for me." His smile faltered until you lifted the sleeve of your shirt and revealed the tattoo. "You're my soulmate, aren't you?"

You could see the smile return to his face as he moved his jacket off his shoulder, revealing the same exact tattoo on the same shoulder, same colors, same placement angle. "Well, never thought I'd ever meet you, cutie. Wish it was in better circumstances though." He swung at you once again, knocking you down with a yell. He slung you over his tatted shoulder and started to carry you towards a hook.

"Just because you're my soulmate doesn't mean you get special treatment, babe." He placed you on the hook, giving you a kiss on the cheek as you screamed in pain. A sigh left his lips, "I knew your screams would be the sweetest." He whispered in your ear before running off. On the bright side, you were still able to meet your soulmate after all.

Susie Lavoie (Legion)

You sighed as you sat near the campfire, staring at the tattoo on the back of your hand. A stupid smiley face staring back at you, giving you no comfort in finding your soulmate in this realm. Once you were pulled in, your dreamed died along with any hope of getting out. It was only a matter of time before the trials began again.

Once they did, you readied yourself for another headache of a trial, thinking about who the next Killer could be. The Clown? Wraith? Nurse? Whoever it was, you had a feeling you would be dying first as usual. You always ended up with Survivors that didn't give a damn about you. Once you landed in the snowy cabin, you immediately went to find a generator.

You felt your heart start to race as the Killer drew near. You heard the sound of sprinting footsteps and started to run. It was the Legion. Perfect, but which one was it? It didn't look like Joey or Frank who you had gone against before, so who was this? An unfamiliar mask, hoodie and pink hair quickly caught up to you, slashing you in the arm. You brought your hand up to the wound and continued to run.

Something about you doing that caused the Killer to stop chasing you which in turn made you extremely confused. Why did they stop? Were they trying to psyche you out? Either way you were dead. You approached the Killer cautiously but still ready to dart away when needed. You looked closely at the mask the Killer was wearing then looked at your tattooed hand.

The Killer reached out and grabbed your wrist, seemingly looking at the tattoo. You didn't move a single muscle as they examined the ink on your skin. "It's you," you heard a feminine voice come from behind the mask. "You're my soulmate!" The Killer sounded excited, jumping up and down as she showed you her tattoo. She removed the mask to show you her face while she smiled.

"It's you! I finally found you! The others thought I would never meet you, but you're here!" She pulled you into a hug, not aware that you were as stiff as a board. You awkwardly hugged her back in pure disbelief that this Killer was your soulmate. A part of you was excited and filled with joy that you finally found her, but the other part was screaming to get away. You didn't know which one to listen to.

She pulled away and put her mask back on, "Don't worry, I won't kill you this time around, but I can't play favorites all the time, okay? Consider this one a freebie!" She pat your head and sprinted away to find the other Survivors. Although the circumstances weren't ideal, at least you finally found her.

Amanda Young (Pig)

You had no idea what this tattoo was supposed to be, but its been with you for as long as you can remember. What looked like razor wires wrapped around your forearm, it confused you as to what kind of person your soulmate could be. What is their personality like for the tattoo to be … well this? You didn't have time to think about it as another trial started. You dropped into the Meat Plant once again, groaning as you hated this place so much.

You headed downstairs, not knowing why but it seemed like a safer place to start than being upstairs in the open. As you found the generator in what looked like a shower room, you got to work, not knowing the Killer was right behind you. The only alert to their presence was the sound of a growl as they moved quickly towards you. You managed to get out of the way before getting slashed which pissed the Killer off.

Unfortunately, you accidentally cornered yourself. You braced for the killer to slash you, but it never came. Instead, they grabbed your wrist and examined the tattoo wrapped around your forearm. "Where did you get this?" They asked. You shrugged, "I've always had this tattoo. It's supposed to match my soulmate."

The Pig rolled her red sleeve up her arm and revealed the same tattoo wrapped around her arm. "What a coincidence we finally meet here, isn't it?" Your eyes widened, the Pig was your soulmate?! How did this never come up before now?! You've seen her before several times! "How come you never told me?" You questioned her, curious as to why she didn't speak up sooner.

Amanda pulled her sleeve down and readied her weapon, "It never occurred to me until now. I just forgot about my own tattoo after a while. Now," she leaned in close, the pig snout nuzzling your shoulder, "run." she whispered into your ear. You didn't need to be told twice as you sprinted as fast as you could out of that room. At lease you finally know who your soulmate was, but the biggest question was how would she treat you during trials now?

Danny Johnson (Ghostface)

You hated seeing it every time you looked in the mirror. That stupid fucking camera tattoo resting just above your collar bone. Before you got dragged into the fog, you figured your soulmate really loved photography like you did, but now you would never know. All thanks to these stupid trials and the Entity ruining your life. Speaking of the trials, they were ready to begin.

You were not in the mood to tolerate any of the Entity or Killer's bullshit during this run. If anything, the Killer was going to find you first per the usual. And right you were when you felt someone watching you from a distance. You noticed a white mask peeking out from around a corner, giving our heart a right scare. You walked closer to them, "Alright, let's get this over with. The faster you kill me the faster I can go back to the campfire."

The Killer approached you with a tilt of their head, "What's that on your chest? That mark?" They used the knife to point at the tattoo. You pulled your shirt down to show it off, "It's my soulmate tattoo. But it doesn't matter. Its not like I'll ever see them here." You notice the Killer start to laugh, "What's so funny?"

Ghostface pulled his mask up a bit and pulled his robe out of the way to show his matching tattoo, "You'd be surprised who you can meet here, baby doll." You took a step back in shock, this man was your soulmate all along? It took you getting dragged into a depressing realm, forced to suffer these games just to meet your soulmate?!

You didn't know whether to scream in frustration or to accept the outcome that you did managed to meet your soulmate. You punched Ghostface in the shoulder, causing him to grunt in pain and rub the spot. Before he would say anything, you wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug. He rubbed comforting circles on your back, "As much as I would love to stay here and get to know you, the trial must go on. Promise to behave and participate and I'll find you afterwards."

He let you go, placing two fingers on your tattoo before walking off. You worked on a generator as your mind raced with so many different thoughts. A Killer was your soulmate and was very casual about it. You couldn't change anything about it, but you wondered what he would say or do after the trial. All you could do was play it out and wait.

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celestia0473 · 3 days ago

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requested by: no one !

A/N — more Druanee content everyone (つω-｀)

DREDGE x READER HEADCANONS ♡

Druanee is not familiar with romantic affection. Like, at all. That's probably obvious, though.

Druanee's way of showing affection is making you scared. It purposely scares you so it can feed on you and only you. I guess you could see it as Druanee showing that it cares about your feelings...?

However, Dredge will be intrigued when it is not feared.

In all of its history of existence in the shadows, it was always feared by many. Having someone not fear it is equally pleasurable for Druanee.

As we know, Dredge has echoes of cries and stuff inside the void. Occasionally, it will try to use this to communicate.

It's hard to decipher at first, but you get used to it. Sighs usually mean it is content and/or pleased, the usual cries mean it's trying to scare you or something, the list goes on.

To summarize, it uses its victim's voices to communicate.

Dredge likes to grab onto you with its hands from the void that makes up its body.

It's very useful. It can hold you, play with your hair, multitask, a lot can be done!

If it's not basking in your fear, Dredge will happily hold onto you with its hands.

More specifically, it will hold your waist with a few of its hands on each side.

Do be aware that it will keep a tight hold on you.

It has and will try to swallow you.

Don't get it wrong, its intentions are harmless. Druanee's motive is that it wants to be with you forever!

Don't worry, just talk about it a little. Dredge will be a bit stubborn and won't understand, but it will eventually give in.

Just don't be surprised if you get really cold if you're cuddling or something.

If you are in a match together, Druanee will pull you into lockers if it feels like it.

It likes seeing you scared for a moment. The moment you're in the locker, you'll either hear sighs or wails echo. Depends on if Dredge wants to feed on your emotions or not.

If it isn't feeding on your emotions, it will use its hands to feel your body; arms, waist, legs.

If it is trying to scare you, however, it will stare at you for a moment before its hands claws up your body and get a tight grip on you.

Again, it means no harm.

Furthermore, whenever nightfall approaches, if it spots you, Dredge will get reaaallllyyyy close to you so you feel the chill of the void before fading back into the shadows.

Sometimes it lets you live, sometimes it doesn't. Again, depends if it wants you to be scared or not.

Thanks for reading ~ (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و

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celestia0473 · 3 days ago

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Kid!Konrad - IV. Monsters under the bed.

Characters/Mentions:

Konrad Curze, child Primarch of the Night Lords—unofficial little night terror.

You, owner of a Nostromian restaurant and Nostromo’s least prepared parent.

POV; second person.

Synopsis; Konrad has been the only thing to go bump in the night. Until he realizes, he can be small enough to let others haunt the night.

Taglist: @iluminatka16

Part I - Hungry, Hungry.

____

Bedtime should’ve been easier.

He was fed, bathed, had his teeth brushed, and had more dessert. He had color in his cheeks and a content little look in his eyes. He should’ve been eager to finally go to bed.

Hell—you’d fixed your own stove with nothing but your father's old tools, hopes, and dreams! You’d grappled a six-foot-two thief from taking your nephews' tips! You’d wrestled Nostromo’s dread and endless hunger with nothing but a lho-stick addiction and your cleaver!

And still—still—nothing—compared to trying to convince the little prince of the night to lie down and shut his eyes.

Konrad sat balled up in the middle of your couch, knees to chest, hoodie bunched around him like a carapace. His little face was smushed against the armrest, eyes wide and unblinking like he might take off running if you so much as breathed too loud.

“Okay, look, hun,” you started, carefully crouching in front of the couch like a bomb defusal technician faced with a particularly twitchy piece of ordnance. “We have to go to bed. I’m sure you’re exhausted—and I’m beat from work. Even terrifying little harbingers of doom get tired, I'm sure.”

Konrad didn't blink.

Hell, he didn't even move.

You could see his little fingers twitching, messing with the frayed edges of your hoodie, worn down through years of lho-smoke and fryer grease. He claimed it as his own—you figured out when you caught him chewing on the drawstrings while you were washing the dishes.

You sighed and shifted your weight, kneeling lower so he could see your face—softened, tired, not mad. He always responded better when he knew he wasn’t in trouble. Not that he’d ever admit to fear. Or needing comfort. Or being a kid.

“Bud,” you said gently. “Talk to me.”

He pressed his mouth into the fabric, eyes flicking toward the dark hallway. A shiver rolled down his shoulders, and for the first time, you saw it: real, gnawing dread. The kind that soaked into your bones, the kind you knew too well.

“…it watches me.” he finally whispered, voice barely audible.

“What does?” you blinked, leaning forward.

He didn’t answer. His thumb pulled hard at a loose string on the sleeve, like if he picked it long enough, maybe the whole world would unravel with it.

“Something breathes under the bed,” he added after a moment. “Waits. It wants me to fall asleep so it can eat me.”

And now, there it was. Not just fear, but conviction. Like it wasn’t just a nightmare—it was a fact.

You took a deep breath.

You could laugh it off. Say it was a trick of the light. A shadow. Blame the heating pipes or an old vent.

He wouldn't believe you.

You looked at him again—at his pale little face, eyes rimmed with the kind of exhaustion no child should carry. Like he hadn’t slept a full night since the day he was born. Like he expected every dream to turn on him. Like every hand he’d ever touched ended up striking him.

You knew that look.

Nostromo raised children on fear and shadows, but this—this was something deeper.

Something learned.

So you didn’t smile. You didn’t say, “You’re being silly,” or “Monsters aren’t real.”

You just nodded and held you hand out, palm up, waiting for him to take it.

“Well then, I guess we'd better go deal with it.”

He stared at your hand like it was a trap. A trick. Like the moment he took it, something would change, or shatter, or hurt.

And maybe, for him, it was. Not the kind with teeth or claws—but something worse. Something with trust. Safety. Hope.

You just kept it there—steady. Not pulling. Not pushing. Not coaxing. Just offering.

He didn’t move for a full ten seconds. And then, slow and uncertain, he uncurled his little hand from your hoodie’s sleeve and slid it into yours.

Fingers like cold wire slipped into yours, hesitant at first, then clenching just a little too tight. You let him. Let him squeeze like your grip was the only thing anchoring him to this world and not whatever nightmare slithered just beyond it.

His palm was clammy. His grip, tight. Death-grip tight. Like if he let go, the thing under the bed would reach up and win.

You gave it a light squeeze. Didn’t speak. Just rose, and let him follow.

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet where you could hear the old pipes rattle through the walls and the slow hum of the fridge in the kitchen. The kind of quiet that crept down the back of your neck.

You didn’t flinch.

Not with Konrad watching you.

Not with your kid holding your hand like it was a lifeline in the deep dark.

When you reached the bedroom, he stopped dead at the threshold. You glanced down. He wasn’t looking at the bed—he was looking at the space under it.

Staring.

Unblinking.

You crouched beside him, still holding his hand.

As you let go of his hand to put your cheek on the floor, you began to speak.

“Y’know, bud, back when I was your age, I didn’t have monsters under my bed. They were in it. Too many cousins, not enough space.”

Konrad’s tone grew confused. “…You shared a bed?”

“With two cousins and a dog named Meatball.”

“…That’s stupid.”

“It was very stupid.”

You chuckled, investigating the dark nothingness under the bed.

A few dust bunnies, some stray crumbs, and a sock that you didn't remember ever having. But no monsters.

You sniffed once, then squinted, making a noise that caught his attention.

“Hmm.”

“What.” he asked, voice suddenly brittle. “What is it. What do you see?”

“Dust. Maybe vengeance,” you murmured. Then, louder, “Might be a whole criminal syndicate of lint creatures down here. Organized crime. Got a whole little operation going—smuggling crumbs, shaking down stray socks for fabric.”

You made a show of reaching under the bed, grabbing the sock, and sitting up on the balls of your feet, holding the sock up like some sort of hunter, proud of their kill.

“Look. One of their victims. Poor sock. He might’ve had a family.”

Konrad said nothing, only looked at you with those dark eyes. Then, he narrowed his eyes and glared.

“That’s dumb.”

You nodded solemnly. “Very stupid. But hey—no monsters. Just a criminal cloth ring and tragic sock tales.”

Konrad didn’t say a thing. But, if you looked closely, you could see the faintest little twitch of his mouth, the barest hint of something loosening behind his eyes. A fracture in the fear. A pause in the tension.

And that was good enough.

You stood up slowly, dusting your hands off on your pants and eyeing the bed.

“Alright. We had a bath, brushed our teeth, ate dessert, scared off the monsters and disrupted an underground textile crime ring, I’d say it’s time you got some sleep.”

Konrad didn’t move. His arms stayed glued to his sides like they were bolted there. His eyes darted from you to the bed, and then—unexpectedly—back to the hallway.

“…What if it moved?” he asked quietly.

You blinked. “Moved?”

He nodded, chin barely dipping. “It knows you looked. It’s not stupid. Maybe it moved to the closet.”

You stared at him for a second. This kid. This damn kid.

“..Why the hell would a monster move, bud?” you asked, exhausted.

“Because it saw you.” Konrad shrugged, still staring at the darkened closet door like it owed him money. “Strategic repositioning.”

“Oh, of course,” you dragged a hand over your face. “We’re dealing with a tactically inclined monster. Great. Woo. Yippee.”

He didn't laugh at that either. But, you did see his fingers curl into the hem of your hoodie sleeve, retreating into the thick coat and seeking comfort, grounding himself against the stale scent of fryer grease and desperation.

You sighed and knelt again. This time, not beside the bed, but in front of him. You hovered your hand over his shoulder until his frame loosened, then you connected to him.

“Alright. Here’s what we’re gonna do. We do a sweep. Whole room. Closet, under the bed, behind the curtains. If there is something in here, we deal with it together. If there’s not—”

“Then we go to sleep,” Konrad finished, softly. But there was hesitation in his voice. Doubt. He didn’t believe you. Not really.

But he wanted to.

“Exactly,” you whispered. “And tomorrow, we can get more fruit. I’ll even get some cream.”

“…Cream?”

“Mhm. The good cream too. I can whip it up with sugar and make it all tasty.”

He thought over your offering for a moment, and then firmly nodded. You smiled and stood up, sliding your hand off his shoulder and setting it on your hips.

“Let's go then.”

As you turned on your heel, you felt him gently take your hand from behind, squeezing it hard as you both padded toward the closet door. He kept behind you like a tiny shadow, protected by the bigger shadow in the tiny apartment you called home.

When you both reached the closet door, you gently unpried your hand from Konrad's. He clung to the back of your leg, nails digging into your thigh as you threw the closet doors open with dramatic flair—half for him, half for yourself.

“Nothing but dirty laundry, a suspicious number of mismatched shoes, and a half-eaten cereal bar I definitely didn’t put there.”

“…That wasn’t me,” Konrad muttered quickly.

You raised a brow. “Didn’t say it was, bub.”

Next was the curtain. You pulled it aside gently, letting the city light bleed through the glass. Konrad held his breath—his tiny teeth clattering.

Nothing. No red eyes. No claws. Just the faint city-glow bleeding through cracked glass and grime.

And then, once more, under the bed. Just for good measure.

Still no monsters. Not even a ghost of one.

You patted the mattress once, invitingly. “Safe. Certified. Monster-free.”

He stared for a moment. You could see the way his mind churned—calculated, suspected, feared. You didn’t push.

Then, like a cat crossing the ice, he crawled onto the bed.

You let him wriggle underneath the blankets and pillows, pressed against the furthest side of the wall as he looked up at you. You fixed the blanket on his sides, tucking him in, not tightly—but snug enough that the blanket became a boundary. You left the lamp on low, and when you turned to leave, he called out.

“Wait.”

You froze. Turned back.

He was still staring at you. Something raw and brittle behind those eyes.

“…You’re sleeping out there?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “Couch.”

A pause.

“You’ll hear me if I yell?”

Your chest twisted.

“Of course. Always.”

Another pause. Longer this time.

“…Okay.” he finally whispered at last.

You reached out, brushing some soft strands out of his face. He didn't flinch.

Then, you turned out the light and cracked the curtain. Just enough to leave some light in. Left the door open, just enough.

And when you finally settled onto your sagging, too-small couch, you waited.

Ten minutes.

Fifteen.

Twenty.

The house was quiet.

You thought maybe—just maybe—you’d finally won.

But then came the soft patting from the hallway, and the whisper that cracked from the archway.

“…I think the couch has monsters too.”

You cracked one abyssal eye open, seeing Konrad standing in the dark. He dragged his blanket along the floor, socks silent against the wood floor.

You silently bit back your groan.

You didn’t even say a thing. You just lifted your blanket and scooted over.

He wrapped himself in his own blanket like a cocoon and curled into your side like it was the most natural thing in the world. He relished in the pressure and weight of you against his own body, silently shivering and twisting into a small ball, his hands fisting in the hoodie you knew you’d never get back.

He didn't say thank you.

You didn't ask him to.

But, before sleep found you, you heard the tiniest little crack of his voice break in a whisper:

“…I think the monsters are afraid of you.”

You smiled, just a little, in the dark.

“Good.” you murmured. “I’m the scariest soup chef this side of Nostromo.”

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celestia0473 · 4 days ago

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I LOVE YOU MORTARION

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celestia0473 · 9 days ago

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Leman Russ DM by Relithel

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celestia0473 · 10 days ago

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

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

Lion 'El'Jonson:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He raised his eyebrow, confused.

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

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

"Let's focus…on the shot for now."

Fulgrim:

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

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

"Y/n?"

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

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

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

"I'm drawing you."

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

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

"But you were so beautiful like this!"

"In my nightrobes, disheveled and snoring?"

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

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

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

"I need to finish it!"

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

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

Perturabo:

"And what does this do?!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"…Satisfied?"

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

"You little—"

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

Jaghatai Khan:

The roaring of the engine echoed around him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And I would not feast on a fruit from death.

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

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

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

Leman Russ:

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

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

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

"The rabbit had come out from his den!"

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you like it?"

He looked at you… then at his neck.

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

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

"…I…yes?"

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

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

Rogal Dorn:

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

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

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

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

"Well?"

"I have a present for you!"

"Can it wait until tonight?"

"I need you awake for it! Here!"

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

"This, my dear husband…is you."

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

"Crack it open!"

"Uh?"

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

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

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

"…A geode?"

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

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

He liked it!

Konrad Curze:

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

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

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

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

"Why?"

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

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

Love?

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

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

"So tell me…why?"

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

"Because I love you…."

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

Sanguinius:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're doing great, my love…"

Ferrus Manus:

"Ummm…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Angron:

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

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

"A-Ang… i-it … It starts to-to hurt!"

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

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

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

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

Roboute Guilliman:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mortarion:

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

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

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

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

"I just—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Magnus the Red:

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

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

"Eh? Yes?"

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

"Did you understand what I was reading?"

"…I may…miss a few passage……"

"…From where to where?"

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

"May I know the cause of your distraction?"

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

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

"I thought you wanted to learn…"

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

"Um…you got a point…"

"Eh!"

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

"NOOOO EVIL HUSBAND!"

Horus:

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

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

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

"You're doing it again, darling…"

"I love watching you, you know that…"

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

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

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

Lorgar:

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

"Lorgar? Is everything all right?"

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

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

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

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

"They believe I'm weak…."

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

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

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

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

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

"What would I do without you?"

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

Vulkan:

"My gem? Are you here?"

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

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

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

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

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

"I demand affection from you, my beloved!"

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

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

"You ruined my surprise!"

"Surprise?"

"It was a ring! For our anniversary!"

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

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

"…it's fine… it's bad anyway…"

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

"Really???"

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

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

Corvus Corax:

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Found you!"

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

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

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

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

"…But you're learning."

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

Alpharius Omegon:

"So?"

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you talking about?"

"We would never!"

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

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

"ALPHY, CATCH ME!"

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

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

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

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

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