I drew this a week ago but I'm kinda shy sharing this piece here because nervousness. Sorry for their clothes and hairstyle, I can't think of anything actually (T-T)
Currently planning to write a Warhammer fic cuz we are SEVERELY lacking them. (EDIT: First Chapter is out!!!)
(WARNING: I'm a new fan, so some of the lore is still lost on me)
Of course, the fic is gonna be based off one of the most popular tropes ever created—
(...or is it technically dimension travel? Timeline travel?)
Anyways, the premise is simple.
MC is gonna be my GOAT, Mr. Blueberry Pudding himself, Robot Girlyman.
The idea is that 40K Robert Ghilliesuit will (via warp shenanigans) end up being punted into Warhammer 30K (presumably a diff timeline). He essentially swaps places with 30K Robust Gorillaman.
Why? Again, Warp shenanigans. More specifically, bc of the Chaos Gods.
By this point in the 40K timeline, Bobby G is being a nuisance to the Chaos Gods and causing trouble via the Indomitus Crusade. But they know killing him will be difficult.
First off, the cost will be ABSURDLY high. Big G is a good fighter, even if it's not his strongest suit (and I can imagine he's become even stronger after fighting in the Indomitus Crusade and ruling the Imperium for so many years now), and he's wielding the Emps' sword, which can permanently kill daemons. And after Mortarion almost betrayed Nurgle, the Chaos Gods aren't exactly eager to send the traitor Primarchs after Repository Googleman.
Even if they successfully kill him, what if Big E just...decides to revive him?
Thus, the Chaos Gods decide to ambush Papa Smurf and yeet him into another timeline so he won't be THEIR problem anymore. They accept the swap of the two Gorillas bc they assume that 30K Grill-a-man will be easier to kill. (SHOCKER!!! That's not the case at all.)
Whatever.
I'm mainly gonna focus on 40K Recruiting Generalist's side of the story. Cuz I don't wanna flip flop between timelines a bunch; that just sounds annoying to write and keep track of.
So, the plot is gonna be 40K Best Dad trying to stop the Horus Heresy from happening in the 30K timeline. He's gonna see (and cry about) the 30K ver. of his brothers and father (Yes, he even cries and hugs Big E). He's gonna be mostly honest abt himself and the timeline hopping shenanigans. BUT, he won't reveal everything (except maybe to E-Money).
Cuz how do you tell the (currently) loyal ver. of your brothers that some of them are gonna betray the Imperium you all built together and commit fratricide & patricide? And that even the ones who don't betray the Imperium will either die, disappear, or something in between? How do you tell that without inadvertently breeding paranoia between your brothers and causing the betrayals to happen quicker?
But in the same way that Roman Gladiator-man is interacting with the 30K primarchs & Emp, they are also observing him. And they notice things. They notice his Ultradepression. They notice he's mellowed out and is more temperamental (but is STILL well adjusted? Preposterous!!! He's supposed to hold onto his anger and blow it out on innocent people!!!). Most importantly, they realize he's essentially become the new Emperor of the 40K Imperium.
At first, the 30K primarchs get jealous and assume Bobby G did some conniving shit to get those titles. But no. Instead, they learn from his (sometimes cryptic, sometimes blunt) words that all of his brothers are "gone" and his father is "...currently unable to rule". When pressed, this diff ver. of their Most Average Brother tells them about Chaos (after having a debate with Eezer the Geezer) and how a great war involving Chaos occurred after the Great Crusade, which led to the Imperium experiencing "grievous wounds".
In short, the Primarchs all assume that most of them have died in 40K. Which ultimately must be why G-man is ruling the Imperium.
Then, they learn about all the OTHER threats the Imperium is facing. Tyranids. Xenos. Orks. Etc. And they realize just how fucked up things are in 40K.
But when they ask about Big Blue's surviving brothers and why they aren't helping him rule the Imperium, he tells them "I don't know".
They ask, "why?"
He tells them, "I died."
Insert blue screen.
From there, they learn about Ultraman's 10K years long power nap. About the contingencies he placed. About the Armour of Fate ("what do you mean you'll die if you take it off?!"). About how the 40K Imperium is corrupt and broken as balls (But their "Coldest" Brother is still hoping and fighting to keep the Imperium alive...) About how he reunited with 40K Lion and Jaghatai Khan, only for them to look at the Imperium and ultimately deem it a lost cause...
And all the other brothers, despite surviving that "great war involving Chaos" are similarly "gone". Some disappeared even before Big Blue's power nap.
Why?
"They wanted vengeance. Not to sit behind a desk and rule the Imperium."
"Perhaps they all believed I would be able to survive and stabilize the Imperium on my own."
It's gonna be emotional.
Because the Primarchs all realize that most of them have been hating/envying Guilliman for nothing. For his best qualities, the qualities now keeping the Imperium alive in 40K.
And if 40K Bob is like this, 30K Robert must be similar beneath his 'cold' exterior.
Revelations will be had. Things (namely relationships) are fixed.
Before, eventually, Papa Smurf has to leave and return to 40K.
Their 30K Blueberry Boyscout is also returned to them. But he has changed due to the horrors he saw in 40K and the duties he shouldered. For a split second, some of the 30K Primarchs wonder if this is actually their Blueman?
It is. But he's different. Many things are different.
But the story will have a happy ending.
___
I have more ideas for this but I don't want to make this post even longer. So I'll list some of them off quickly:
Bobby G yells at Big E?! Forces him to be a better parent and finally sit the fuck down for a hot minutes to innovate a way to remove the Butcher Nails from Angron. Blueberry Pudding knows it is possible bc he once commissioned Belisarius Cawl for the same thing.
Blueman also enforces occasional "family night", which E-money MUST ATTEND. Something, something, if you want Lorgar to stop worshipping you as a god, show him just how normal and human you truly are.
Big E and G actually become somewhat close during his stay, almost like equals. Eezer the Geezer ain't exactly scary to Gorillaman when he's seen The Corpse on the Golden Throne. E-money starts considering making 30K Grill-a-man his heir once the swap-back happens.
30K primarchs learn about...THE ROOM!!! THE ROOM WITH THE TABLE WITH THE 21 SEATS THAT BOBBY G BUILT FOR THEM AFTER HE JOINED THE IMPERIUM, HOPING THEY'D ALL SIT TOGETHER AT IT ONE DAY!!!
30K primarchs also learn that their 'Coldest' Brother (both 30K and 40K) has been teaching his sons diplomacy, statecraft, etc. to prepare them for life after the Crusade. He loves them so much!
30K primarchs learn that Big G adopted the sons of his dead/missing brothers. Even the (loyal) sons of his traitor brothers. The same way he adopted the 2nd and 11th Legion once their primarchs were confirmed dead. Not for greed, but for (*gasp*) kindness. Blows many of their minds.
30K primarchs learn more things they didn't know about their brother. He's become a better fighter. He has a RAGE BUTTON?! THE FARM RETIREMENT PLAN!!!
___
Anyways, what do yall think? Is the idea good? Or should I change it some more? I'm currently working on the first chapter, but it's gonna take a while to finish. The Warhammer lore is so confusing (read: too much) to understand and write... I'm fr about to wing things... This is a fanfic so things don't have to be perfectly accurate...
author's note : thank you so much for 100 follows !!! sanguinius won my poll and here is the result . i had a lot of fun writing this , though i fear i have a thing for tormenting this beautiful man .
i told myself this was only going to be one part, but i wasn't able to fit everything i wanted into it . there will be a part 2 sometime after the holidays . i gotta do it for sanguinius .. ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა
trigger warnings : nsfw , oral in a church , fingering , bit of wing play , blood & blood loss , gore (nonsexual) , death (unnamed character) , dubcon .
Nowhere was safe. When the angels came, your world fell. The stubbornness of your planet’s government had damned you all, surrendering its people to an unfair war - a slaughter. Your home was one of many that burned and you ran, ran like countless others as you prayed for a miracle.
You had tried a few bunkers at first, having used a map to guide you to the nearest one. Much to your disappointment, it had been full and the crowd waiting to get in had not been kind. Sure, you could have stayed and hoped you would be one of the few to make it in, but your overconfidence told you to move on. You could thug it out! Walk to the next one. How hard could it be?
It became painfully obvious how unprepared you were for the end of the world. It wasn’t something you had ever really thought of, not really. You had worked at a dead end job, going through the motions day to day just to make ends meet. At night, you had little to no social life. You spent most of your time wrapped up in pieces of fiction, taking refuge in the words spun by your fingers ; pen to paper, your favorite form of expression. Your life before hadn’t been glorious, but it had been yours. It pained you to think about it. All of your writing was now gone, save for the contents of a single notebook.
You guessed now you were living out one of your stories first hand. Except surviving was hard and everything was happening too fast. The Blood Angels, as the news called them, were carving a path to the Citadel at an alarming speed and it wouldn't be long before they took over.
Communication networks, the ones still running, updated their feeds regularly and offered little comfort; their panicked voices breaking down your morale with each broadcast. What was the point? These Angels were superhuman, wielding weapons that had chewed through your planet’s defenses like they were nothing.
Deep down you knew it was only a matter of time before you were caught in the crossfire and then it happened. On your third day on the run, the fighting found you.
At the first sighting of red armor, you hid. Some civilians had taken up arms, fighting with their primitive weapons and firing gunshots that only seemed to annoy the invaders. Most of the rebels died while others were taken off of the streets and transported elsewhere. You didn't plan on hanging around long enough to find out where.
You managed to slip away during the chaos, ducking into a large cathedral. It was pretty run down, the exterior stained black from smoke and its walls broken in precarious places that made it look as if it were a sneeze away from crumbling. It wasn’t great, but it offered you enough protection to shield you from the elements and prying eyes.
You wandered deep into its interior, clutching your backpack to your chest to keep it from making noise while you navigated shattered stone and the remnants of broken pews. Ahead of you, a once-pristine altar waited for you in depressing silence. Its stone surface cracked and pockmarked with bullet wounds.
The altar was barren, save for a few torn remnants of old cloth and charred offerings. You approached it and ran your fingers along the surface, grabbing up a piece of charcoal that you might be able to use for sketching later. You weren’t very good at it, but you had paper and down time was one of your biggest enemies. It was better to save your pens for writing. They wouldn’t last forever and you weren’t sure how long you’d be running for.
You're interrupted by the sound of shouting from outside that sounds way too close for comfort. You back away from the altar and anxiously look around for a place where you might hide, your eyes landing on a fallen podium. It was quite large, large enough for you to fit inside, but if someone were to walk around behind it they would see you.
The shouts grew louder. Screw it, you scramble over to the podium, tripping over your own two feet on your way and manage to crawl inside before the cries of a man filled the church.
“Help me, someone! Please!” He begged. You can hear him stumble around behind you. You imagine his feet catching on broken corners of debris, barely able to keep himself upright.
“He’s coming, he’s coming! Sanctuary, please! I beg of you. Please protect me.” He pleaded, his voice carrying throughout the ruins. You bury your face in your backpack, willing him to go away. Whoever he was running from, you wanted no part of it.
You whimper in fear.
“Father, is that you?” Had he heard you? You curl further into yourself, trying to make yourself smaller.
You hear the man’s steps draw nearer. Shoot, shoot! He couldn't know where you were, could he? You wish you had been strong enough to flip the podium overtop of you. You were too vulnerable, too revealed with its large opening.
Go away, go away.
You crack open your eyes long enough to see his feet stop in front of you, his pant legs shifting as he moves to bend down. You catch a glimpse of a gun's muzzle at his waist and tense.
But then he stops. The ground shudders as something large comes down on it, splintering wood and cracking stone. The man takes a step back and then gunshots ring out One, three, five, click .. click .. !
A gust of wind blows across the sanctuary, throwing the man off balance. Suddenly the podium you’re hiding in groans under a heavy weight that lands on top of it, the wood bowing and threatening to cave in on you. The man screams and the next thing you hear is the sickening squelch of crushed meat and bone.
Blood flows down the man’s body, pooling in a puddle on the ground. You choke back a sob, tears burning your eyes as his body falls with a loud thud; headless, blood gushing from his gaping neck. Time slows down, you stare at the dead man. His image forever burned in your memory.
Whoever it was on top of you steps down over the corpse. The gold of their armored boots splattered with blood and filth.
“Do not hide, child. I mean you no harm.” His voice sang the words like a hymn, lyrical and majestic; flawlessly done with the carefree nature of someone who wasn’t even trying. As if he hadn’t just killed a man.
It sounded wrong.
A hand reaches under the podium and plucks you out by your backpack. You cling onto your last piece of home as if it were a lifeline, until the visage of your assailant comes into view. You stare up into his beautiful face and with a yelp of surprise you let go of your pack. He’s quick, however, and snatches you out of the air. His grip like a vice around your arm, causing you to cry out in pain.
“Hush.” He drops your pack on the ground, the contents spilling out around his feet.
“Let me go, please.” He tilts his head to one side. You swallow thickly, holding back the urge to throw up as you dangle in the giant's grasp.
“If I set you down, you will run and I would hate for you to hurt yourself.” He looped an arm under your legs and made a perch for you to sit on. It brought relief to your abused arm, but lifted you up to face level with him.
His face was achingly beautiful and unreal, as if your eyes were having trouble making sense of the contour of his bone structure. One moment you could have sworn he had high cheekbones, the next his face was full; younger and then older. Hair like liquid gold cascaded down his head in expertly crafted waves, impossibly undisturbed. Even the speckles of blood in his hair looked like ruby beads.
It was his eyes that unsettled you most. They watched you intently, like a bird might stalk a mouse in the grass. Any small movement was captured by those eyes, the intensity behind them made your insides squirm uncomfortably.
He let go of your arm and took your face between his thumb and forefinger, the sharp tips of his armored fingers digging into your skin. He ran his thumb down your cheek, drawing a thin line of blood that made you wince.
He swallowed thickly, his stare fixed on the red droplets.
“I am sorry. Your leaders have sentenced you to a fate you nor your people deserve, but in your planet’s defiance you have spoken out against the will of the emperor - of humanity itself. Such deeds cannot go unpunished. I will make this quick.” His hot tongue lapped at your cheek, catching the trickle of blood. He exhaled in a long breath that tickled the tiny hairs on your face.
You whimper, your jaw hurting from his harsh grip. Unable to speak, your eyes plead with him. Begging him to let you go. You would do anything, say anything. He looks almost saddened when he tilts your head to the side, exposing the vulnerable flesh of your neck. He leans his head down, his lips brushing over the beat of your pulse, tenderly like a kiss. He mutters something you can barely make out.
“Forgive me, my sons.” His teeth pierce your neck. You feel pain and then numbness, the weight of your limbs suddenly heavy. You feel yourself fall backwards, his hands moving to cradle you in the air; your neck arched over his palm.
Your blood flows into his mouth, his tongue hungrily lapping at your wound. His wings twitch above you, the feathers lazily falling like a curtain around you. Except there would be no curtain call, no walking onto the stage to the cheers of your audience. You performed your final bow the moment he’d caught you.
In a daze, you wonder how soft his wings are. They’re so close, you could reach out and touch them. It takes a lot of effort to lift your arm up, and when you do you realize the tips of your fingers are stained black with soot. A stark contrast against the white of his wings. You touch them anyway, leaving a trail of black and gray in your wake. Your killer makes an approving sound that rumbles in his chest.
“Don’t.” He groans, his hold on you tightening. His voice sounded strained.
Don't what? You wanted to ask, but your tongue didn't work right. Words were hard, your mind was heavy, but his feathers felt nice.
You stroke his wing, petting his feathers in languid strokes. They shudder against your touch.
A sickening desire sparked at the base of the angel’s spine, his cock straining against the body glove beneath his armor. He hadn’t expected you to touch him and you were a devilish little thing, already a temptress with your blood which tasted so sweet on his tongue. He shoves aside the mess on the altar and lays you down on top of it, looming over you with blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.
You look back at him through heavy lashes, knowing you should be frightened of the predatory look in his eyes, but unable to muster the energy to be afraid. He kneels down, nudging your legs apart. You don't question him when he lifts one of your legs onto his shoulder or when he tears the fabric of your pants with his teeth.
Without warning, he sinks his fangs into the exposed meat of your thigh. Your heart leapt in your chest, a pained yelp waking you from your stupor.
“That hurts, stop! Please.” He looks up at you, crimson bleeding into the beautiful blue of his eyes until you're staring into a ruby sea. You see his jaw working, sucking and swallowing your life with each greedy gulp.
When you try to sit up, he releases your thigh with a loud POP! that leaves behind a nasty purple mark around his teeth marks. He drags you down by your hips until your ass is hanging off of the edge of the table and makes another rip in your jeans, tearing them down the center.
His bite stung, but aroused something in you. Something you weren't ready to unpack, not with a stranger that was all too eager to devour you. You felt ashamed by your mixture of want and terror, unsure of which you should be feeling.
The angel buries his nose between your legs and inhales the scent of your need. His tongue prodded the fabric of your underwear, tasting how wet you were for him. He hummed his approval, the sound vibrating against your center.
So much for making your death quick. He seemed to be enjoying himself, playing with his food. He pushes your panties aside and licks between your folds, dragging his tongue up until he finds the delicate bud that makes you squirm. His wings flutter around you, lowering to where you can grab onto them. When you do, he moans against your slit.
He strokes you with his tongue, rolling the hot wet muscles around your clit before he takes you in his mouth. His lips sealing overtop of you, tongue lapping at your sensitive skin with the hunger of a starving man.
White fills your vision when he inserts a finger inside of you, curling it and coaxing soft, mewling sounds out of you. He pumps his finger in and out of you before adding a second. Scissoring you open, stretching you and making your mind delirious with need.
He devours you, trading his fingers for his tongue. Stroking your walls, his thumbs spreading your folds, letting him sink his tongue in deeper. His nose brushes your clit and you lose control of your body; cumming on his face. He doesn’t seem to mind, taking his fill of you before pulling away from your needy cunt.
You're so small, so weak. A tasty little plaything that looks pretty in his mouth; the taste of your ambrosia divine on his tongue. He reaches down to free his cock of its confinement and snarls in frustration. He was in the middle of a war, he couldn’t easily take himself out. He would need your help and, well, you were in no state to undress him.
He helplessly bucked his hips against the air, craving friction and receiving very little. He felt trapped in his ceremite, frustrated at it for preventing him from sinking himself inside of you. He wanted to feel your wet heat flutter around him when he took you.
He bites into your other thigh, growling, his nails digging into your skin as he holds you tight to his face. You whimper above him, though he pays you no mind. He hungered for you. Needed you. He jerks you further down the altar until you're practically sitting on his face, your slick coating his cheek while he drinks from your thigh. You feel light headed, your mind going fuzzy while your blood flows down his throat. You wanted to sleep. To succumb to the exhaustion you’d been fighting for days.
You close your eyes and feel yourself fall until blackness takes you.
Sanguinius gently places you back onto the altar, ashamed with himself for the way he’d handled you. You were a frail, terrified human - not a meal. He thumbs away a remnant of your blood from his lips, listening to the slow beat of your heart as it struggled to replenish that which he had stolen.
He couldn’t bring himself to kill you. Not after he’d already preyed upon you in such an undignified way. He’d let his restraint slip and in doing so had cost him a piece of his own humanity. He taught his sons how to control the thirst, chiding them for their errors and mentored them in healthier ways to suppress their urges. But in a single moment he had shattered his own illusion. He had given in and tasted you. Emperor, give him strength. He could still taste you. All of you.
He takes an agonizing step away from your limp body, the heel of his boot stepping on your belongings leaving behind a bloody print on what looked to be a notebook of yours.
“My lord, you should leave this place. I will take care of the girl.” Sanguinus jerks his head in the direction of the voice. A pair of green, unfeeling lenses set into a black helmet stare back at him. The image of an eye within a flame glowered in judgement of Sanguinius actions from the man’s shoulder guard.
“No, get her to an apothecary and have them stabilize her before transport. I want her taken aboard the Red Tear.”
The Ofanim glances toward the slumbering girl. He would not refuse a direct order from his Primarch, even if such an order went against every one of his teachings. It was his duty to take on the burden of Sanguinius’ guilt; to purge the madness from their legion and remove those who could threaten their peace.
“It is not in my nature to question your judgement, but she has seen too much.”
Sanguinius gestures toward your fallen notebook,
“I am taking her as my personal remembrancer.”
“My lord, she is not a remembrancer.”
“As of this moment, she is.” He closed his eyes, adjusting his posture to relieve some of the pressure between his legs. He felt claustrophobic, trapped in his own armor. The quicker he won this planet, the quicker he could discard his armor and .. remedy his affliction.
“See it done.” Sanguinius launched himself into the air with an aggressive beat of his wings, pausing long enough to see your modesty covered before you were gently lifted into the Ofanim’s arms. He shared a brief look with his legionnaire, and then he was gone. Disappearing through a large hole in the cathedral's ceiling.
She meets him with a moan of her own. Collapsing against him, still held to his chest and still impaled on his cock. He dosen't want to pull out. She doesn't want him to pull out. But eventually oversensitivity takes them both. Konrad is still the same insecure man as always, still unable to fully grasp how she would want a monster like him. Meanwhile her body already craves the feeling of being fucked by a primarch again.
summary: You're an aide to the Avenging Son, the only aide to the Lord Regent. While serving him dinner you both make a discovery about each other.
pairing: Roboute Guilliman x F!Reader
warnings: bit of a food kink, feral behavior (Guilliman), threatening (?) behavior, oral fixation (Guilliman again), alluding to masturbation (reader), fic got to long so no smut but it does get a little nsfw, lemme know if i need to tag anything else!
part 2, part 3
tagging @beckyninja , @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond , @springtimeishere , @moodymisty , @vyzz-undercover, and @ailjsenutna bc they requested it! lemme know if you want to be added to the list as well
It was going to end tragically, he knew it would. All things ended this way it seemed, especially for the Avenging Son.
Denied his death, denied a life outside of the rotting corpse of his father’s failed dream, his brothers gone, his mother… Ten thousand years wasted in agony, only to inherit the Imperium. No peace, no happiness, denying himself even the basics of comfort in an effort to keep things from getting worse. All in order to keep his sons people safe.
But he could not deny himself you. A little kindness, a little humanity, is all it took for Roboute Guilliman to fall at your feet. Figuratively of course, not that you were aware of this. He made sure that there were no untoward actions from him, nothing that could be traced back to anything besides him having a favored aide. He was allowed to have preferences, encouraged even. So if he used that as permission to pull you from your normal duties to being essentially glued to his side at all times, well.
He was only doing what everyone seemed to expect, now wasn’t he?
You were a balm to his battered soul, seeming to almost literally light up the dark corridors of his ship wherever you went. The way you would smile at him when you completed the little tasks he asked of you. You treated him as a lord, yes. But as a man.
Not a god.
There was nothing holy about Roboute no matter what anyone thought. And behind his closed office doors with just himself and you, he didn’t have to be. He could be himself, bad jokes and all. He could enjoy your laugh, the way your skin flushed down your neck to your plush-
“My lord?”
Your voice startles him out of his thoughts, and he’s glad of it.
A glance to the side of his desk reveals you peering up at him through your lashes, hood tilted back enough to allow the candle light to illuminate your soft features. There was a soft smile on your face, a common expression when you were alone together. In your hands was his dinner, and a quick look at the time has Roboute grimacing. It had been hours since he last ate and even longer since he had left his office.
Truly, the Administratum had to be the greatest enemy the Imperium of Man faced in this age.
“Ah, yes,” he said abruptly, moving carefully in his armor to nudge stacks of dataslates and paperwork over enough to clear a space large enough for you to sit in. Roboute found his mouth watering already, and not just for the food. “Come, little one, this should be enough room.”
Your shy little blush comes with a rush of hormones he can all but taste in the air and his mouth fills with saliva. It’s truly depraved, for all that it started innocently enough. He is large, even by Astartes standards, what with him being a Primarch. And the Armor of Fate makes him even bigger, at the cost of his dexterity and sensitivity. It was unfortunate that he still needed to wear it most days, it’s life support a horrid fact of his current existence. Add all of this together, and Roboute found that eating was much more of a chore than he ever remembered it being.
And he had a long, long memory.
He has to swallow several times as he helps you onto his desk, one gauntleted hand under your thighs with his tray balanced across your lap. “It looks delicious,” he murmured, and it truly did, but it wasn’t the food that had hunger gnawing at him.
It was your clever, kind, debilitating solution to his food issue that had Roboute acting little more than a common beast.
Food that wasn’t nutrient paste was too difficult for him to bother with on his own truly he just didn’t want to spend hours cleaning smashed everything out of the delicate circuitry of his armor, but was easily handled in your much smaller grasp, and an offer to feed him led to this, the Lord of Ultramar leaned over you so he could catch a taste of your skin.
He felt no small amount of shame at this- this debauchery, but… this is only a small thing. A temporary indulgence.
Quitting you should be easy for one of his self control if this goes too far. You smile at him when you settle on his immense desk, almost dwarfed by the huge stacks of paperwork covering the surface. The sight of it makes his hearts clench in some unnameable emotion.
“Are you hungry, my Lord?”
Always, for you, almost leaves his mouth before he catches himself. “I could eat.” And he could. It takes a lot of calories to feed his frame, so no matter how many meals he gets to eat like this, that damnable nutrient paste is still needed as a supplement.
You were all he could smell now, sweet and warm, almost syrupy as his focus narrowed down to just you. Your delicate fingers, so small compared to him, picked up something he didn’t know the name of. A sizeable portion to one of your stature, but barely a mouthful to Roboute.
It was a game now, a challenge for himself to see how long he could hold out tasting your skin before he couldn’t anymore. The first bite was always the hardest, a mouthful of flavor exploding over his tongue as your fingertips brushed over his lips. A temptation to lick them is ruthlessly shoved aside as he puts his considerable focus onto you.
This was a time that you would tell him about your day, all the little tidbits of information you overheard or the tasks you completed. Rarely was it anything that Roboute needed to know, but he found that he couldn’t help but find every word that graced your lips as some form of sacred.
It was towards the end of his dinner that everything changed and Roboute’s legendary self control finally snapped.
A few pieces of his meal were left, smaller morsels that he shared between himself and you. Smaller bites meant he had to be careful, closing his teeth over your finger accidentally could snap it off without him even realizing. Something both of you are eager to not happen.
So a little overlap was expected at this point, his lips closing over your fingers, tongue curling under them so no crumb was wasted. It was his favorite part usually, something he could do to taste the salt of your skin and overwhelm his brain with your hormones so he can stop thinking for a while. But this time…
This time there was something extra to your scent. He had noticed something in the food, but didn’t think too hard about it. With your fingers in his mouth, it was all he could taste.
Sweet and musky, thick like honey and so overwhelmingly human, Roboute couldn’t help but close his mouth tighter over your fingers and lathe them with his tongue. By the stars, what was this?
Through the vague haze his mind had fallen under he could see that you were blushing deeply, from your chest all the way up into your hair. You were stuttering something as he gazed down at you, still sucking on your little fingers. The angle you were at allowed Roboute to see down the front of your dress and his gaze was drawn down your collarbone to the swell of your breasts pressed tightly together.
It was when his mind started filling with impure thoughts that it finally clicked what he was tasting on your hand, and his own face burned as he abruptly released you and leaned back. He had to put distance between you or he wouldn't be able to control himself anymore.
He was already painfully hard in his armor, and he meant that literally. A design flaw, clearly.
“Ah,” Roboute starts, at a loss to explain what came over him. It still lurked just beneath his skin, clawing at his stomach and howling in his ears. His lungs heaved for air, able to taste your confused arousal on his tongue. Involuntarily, he opened his mouth and breathed you in deeper. He leaned closer, armor scraping against itself as he loomed.
“My Lord…,” your voice is quiet, but he can still hear you. A little voice in the back of his head is growing louder, near purring at the way you lean back to make room for him. He can see the way you stare up at him with huge shining eyes and wet parted lips. Moving even closer causes you to draw a leg up and onto the desk, the other spreading wide to accommodate him this close to you. “Are you…” There’s a hesitation when you start to ask him a question, and Roboute manages to pull himself together enough to make an inquiring noise as he pushes his chair back to lean down enough that he can stick his face near your neck.
Roboute can feel the way your blood rushes through your veins and for a moment his head swims with the sudden need to bite.
“Do you still have a- hunger, Lord Guilliman?”
It’s the way you say his name, breathy and sweet that gives Roboute the push to open his mouth and lick the sweat off your skin. Your gasp is loud in his ears. “Yes,” is his hissed answer against your throat, lips against your fluttering pulse. “One that must wait to be sated.”
Your little hands, those perfect soft little hands, are featherlight against his head, brushing over his laurels and tracing the curl of his hair. “Why?”
Why indeed, he mused to himself, amused by the simple question. There was much you did not know, and the extent of which he needed his armor was one secret few knew outside of his most trusted. As much as he favored you, he couldn’t risk a breach. You were a weak point.
But one he refused to be parted from.
Another lick sent his brain back into the hazy almost-calm from earlier, your pheromones seeming to crawl through the grey matter of his brain and down his spine. Your fingers slowly thread through his hair and he hummed in quiet bliss, mouth opening against your skin as his arms came up to encircle you. Pain from his cock cleared his head a bit and he realized that he had opened his mouth entirely around your neck.
He felt you swallow against his tongue and fought the urge to feel it from the inside. Pulling back from you was a task almost too great for Roboute, but he managed. “Mm. Please, Little One,” he managed to work around the saliva pooling in his mouth. “Don’t come here again like that.”
Your pupils are blown wide and your skin is shiny. The expression on your face is one of confusion, and dare he say it, arousal. “What?”
Roboute was forced to clear his throat, trying to remove your scent from his mouth. “Your hand. I could… hm. I could taste you on your fingers.”
He could see your mind trying to process it, eyes squinting as you worked through his meaning. The moment you understood caused what he could only call complete and utter mortification to cross your face.
“Oh, My Lord- I’m sorry, please forgive me- I didn’t-”
“Peace,” Roboute didn’t like the way shamed curdled your scent, bitter-sour overtaking the honey-sweet. “You did nothing wrong. I just request that you be mindful in the future.”
He didn’t know what expression was on his face, but he knew you understood from the way your gaze dropped from his and your hands slipped from his laurels into your lap.
Already he missed the touch of you against his skin.
“O-Of course, my Lord,” you give your assent, and Roboute has to fight everything in himself that wants to keep you on his desk and lay you out so he can feast.
Withdrawing from you completely felt impossible but he managed, and Roboute watched silently as you slipped off his desk and scurried to the door. But before it could open you turn and look back at him, a queer light in you eye. “Shall I return for your breakfast tomorrow, Lord Guilliman?”
He understood what you meant immediately and felt a dizzying sense of want rush through him. “Go.”
You flee from his office and Roboute is left alone in his prison made of his armor and a straining cock he can do nothing about for almost another full cycle.
A glance at his once-organized desk has him placing his head in his hands. Damn the Administratum to the Warp.
My turn to finally introduce a Sentience Custode of my own! However, with a twist! Ya'll remember that Shard I made with @sculptorofcrimson and @bispecsual? Well I'm introducing a stand in for her in husbandry... and don't worry the boy in this fic is a stand in for Valdor (or maybe you should worry).
Please big thanks to @bispecsual for also beta reading
tw: Nudity, blood, death (very much on brand with 40k so far) POV shifting
The blood that ran down her naked body was still warm. Aurora trembled with fear as she knew she was destined to die today... there was a horrifyingly calm acceptance of that fact that ran through her. She opened her mouth to breathe and spit out blood that leaked into her mouth. She was blind as she refused to open her blood covered eyes as her arms were held out by large hands... her long brown hair now stuck to her back as it was heavy with blood and all she could hear was the loud booming voice of the "preacher" Astartis... Aurora felt something placed on her head as it dug into the skin of her scalp and chants and jeers flooded her ears.
Large thumbs swiped over her eyelids allowing her to finally open. Her eyes only briefly scanned the gathered crowd of Astartes as she was dragged to a raised platform and her eyes looked to her cell companion. Aurora didn't blame her even if she apologized again and again for what was going to happen... it wasn't her fault that she was being held hostage to get her Astartis to behave, she learned his name was Ari... Aurora didn't blame Ari either. Her hands were held over her head as she was strapped to a metal pointed wheel, a star of Chaos, she somehow knew... she looked over to her fast friend who was silently crying as she was held by an Astartis in black and gold. The unwilling sorcerer approached, glancing at his human.... glancing to the marine holding his bonded... who gave her a squeeze causing her to scream.
The "preacher" kept speaking as Aurora looked at who she assumed was Ari. His body unarmored as she looked over his face and for a moment when their eyes met she could see the regret in them for a fleeting moment before they hardened as he painted her flesh with symbols that made her mind hurt. His hands soon moved and glowed as his voice took on a double voice melding with his own. She felt her body pulse as warp stuff bled from her brown-gold eyes.
They thought it was fitting given the close resemblance she held to many of the depictions of the Carrion Emperor to give her a golden laurel. Several of them could see it... how swollen her soul was... and with Ari pushing more warp into it... it only made it a better sacrifice.
Ari wanted no part of this... he hated this... he was no human killer! But... but... his human was in danger.
Aurora looked up at the sky and there was silent pain that rushed through her body. Something inside of her was pulsing as, unknown to her, more and more of her soul was forced to take in raw warpstuff. Empowering her and making her ripe for an offering to the gods. She felt like the seams of her entire being were being ripped apart to the point she could no longer take it and she screamed, "SOMEONE HELP ME!" Desperately she screamed as she forced her throat raw.
But within the warp that those fallen Astartes were feeding her soul too... all that was there was the laughter of thirsting gods...
Apollo was falling. He blinked as he was indeed falling as his armor was adjusting and informing him of the calculated time till impact. His bright blue eye behind those ruby red eye lenses twitched around in their socket as he was fed information from several sources. He was about to land in a gathering of Chaos Space Marines... during the middle of a ritual... Perfect timing he thought to himself . Apollo twisted his body like a cat, unhindered by his armor, as he was made to move unnaturally. He arched and his armor braced and readied himself as his hands gripped his Guardian Spear. Where he was... will come later he had to eliminate a cancerous growth first. But, as he fell his eyes glanced towards the altar and a breath before impact his eyes caught gold.
It was a baseline human female covered in blood. On her head rested a mockery of a golden laurel that his Master was fond of. His eyes met hers for a split second and pools of gold-brown looked at him... afraid. Vines of warp like energy akin to some violent xenos flora wrapped and latched onto his soul... he was going to save her... he was going to save her regardless... but he was going to save her... for she looked far too much like Him.
Limbs and viscera exploded outwards as Apollo made impact with a traitor marine. As the smoke cleared it was already far too late for them. Before even the words "Custodes!" could leave the mouth of the traitor that spotted him... a dozen of them were already dead.
Ari's eyes widened as he knew he had only precious seconds... his eyes flicked over to the marine holding his human and all Ari had to do was twitch and their head exploded. She was opening her mouth to scream as Ari flooded his body with the lashing warp to fuel his speed. He needed to out maneuver the Custodes. He was kind enough to cut Aurora free as within breaths he was suddenly by his human as the warp wrapped around the both of them and before Aurora realized it... they were gone. They fell to the forest floor as Ari held his bonded tightly... safe.
However, Aurora was far from safe. She was still in so much danger as she scrambled to her feet after being freed. Her heart was beating wildly as she still felt like she was coming undone and her hands covered her ears as she trembled in pain, a scream ripped from her throat. The warp that had bled into reality whipped around her... it hurt! She was scared! And she poured all of her emotions into the currents around her.
Help me please... a voice in his mind pleaded as the Dread Host, Apollo, cleaved a limb free from the traitor in front of him. He danced between the ruptured metal and dying marines. He violently shoved the bubbling anxiety down, a feeling he had thought he had forgotten how to feel, as his eyes drifted towards the screaming and pained human his mind raced something screamed at him... SAVE HER... SAVERHERSAVEHERSAVEHERSAVEHERSAVEHERSAVEHER he gritted his teeth as something in his mind screamed at him in his own voice... he felt compelled to listen but he twirled watching his Guardian Spear slice through metal like it was butter. "Working on it." He snarled out to himself.
Aurora swayed on her feet as she regained some semblance of steadying herself and made to get away! The Golden Astartes could do that right? What help would she be... though she barely turned to run before a hand wrapped around her throat. Her hands looked so tiny as she tried to pry off metallic fingers from around her throat. The Feral Astartis snarled at her in that dark tongue, it wasn't Gothic, and it made something inside of her hurt. The dark apostle looked toward the custodes being swarmed before rushing off with the half ready sacrifice. It was just a minor setback... he would try again.
Aurora reached out to the golden warrior looking at the red eye lenses on that white faceplate... before she moved out of the camp at a sickeningly fast speed. Apollo's head snapped to the direction of his charge. His mind rapidly did the math at how fast he could get to her. He was finally done playing as his spear ripped open bellies before he turned on his heel like a flamenco dancer as he ran after them. Apollo needed to know why she looked so much like Him. He had joked or, now that Apollo reflects, perhaps in His own way admitted that He had many paramours over the years; both before and after the creation of the Primarchs. Apollo remembers him being young and bold enough to ask, "Should we be expecting any secret children my lord?"
He remembers the faint smile that was only in His eyes and not upon his lips as he ordained to answer Apollo, "No Apollo. I haven't had any in thousands of years."
Aurora was sobbing again, her tears cleaning the sticky blood on her skin, leaving their trails against her lightly tanned skin as she felt the hand around her throat squeeze. She was going to die... she had allowed herself to feel a fleeting sense of hope when he fell from the sky like a golden star... no... there was no golden hero here to save her. She opened her eyes as her brain had trouble registering the golden mass rapidly approaching her as... her brain told her.... it shouldn't move that fast... that smoothly... she felt sick as it moved so smoothly and so quickly that she couldn't register properly the fact he had already grabbed the dark apostle's arm and had already ripped it clean from its socket.
She only registered the sudden fact that she was falling now after a horrifyingly instantaneous sound of screaming metal. All Aurora knew was that at this momentum she was probably going to die if she hit the ground. However she blinked as the sound of leaf litter scattering met her ears as she was pressed up against a golden chest plate as she came to a stop. Her heart was beating like the wings of a hummingbird as her brown-gold eyes darted around. She looked up seeing the white facemask of the golden marine... she looked over her shoulder and could see the other dead on the forest floor.
Apollo watched as those gold-brown eyes looked around and back at his faceplate once more before she started to wildly weep against him. He normally wasn't good at handling their outbursts but he focused on the golden "laurel" on her head tangling with her hair was a bunch of scrap metal twisted and painted. His deft fingers moved it free of her scalp and wickedly tossed it at the dead marine watching the "leaves" sink into his skin. He felt her fingers grip his armor as he moves her, slightly wrapping her naked form in the black cloth he has wrapped around his waist. Apollo had many questions but as she started babbling up at him between her tears he realized he did not understand what she was saying... Apollo like all custodes was well versed in many imperial languages but this... this he did not know. He looked over her body as she was dehydrated and slightly underfed but otherwise she was healthy which soothed something inside of him. Apollo knew he wasn't good with baselines but he did his best to soothe her as now... he had to find his way to civilization.
The local Astartes were scrambling as there was a Custodes, an unknown Custodes, heading their way. Traitor and Renegade Astartes retreated from the immediate vicinity and entered hiding. A Custodes was a force of nature and would rip through a community like a tornado. Those at the wall gained confirmation as this was not one of the few that they knew of which meant this was a recent arrival... an unbonded Custodes. They would make things difficult as only bonded Custodes would allow the tentative truce between the Loyalists and Traitors continue... all by their mercy. So they were dealing with potentially two unbonded Custodes... they prayed to the Emperor and to the Dark Gods that no more were sent.
Apollo looked at the fortifications as he approached them picking up on Imperial Fist architecture mixed with Iron Warrior. His eyes narrowed at the joint project as he knew about the Ultramarine approaching him as his hand held the passed out bundle closely to him. He held his Guardian Spear at his side as the Ultramarine finally spoke, "Noble Custodes." Apollo could hear the accent as an old Mcraggian dialect and given the crusade pattern armor he was wearing... Time Displacement. Apollo theorized.
"Ultramarine." Apollo replied emotionlessly. The human in his arm whimpered softly, twitching slightly.
The Ultramarine looked at the Custodian's legs that were covered in dried blood. However his eyes kept glancing at the passed out human wrapped in the black cape of the custodian, covered in blood. He prepared to speak again but Apollo cut him off.
"When am I." He demanded.
"024.M2." He says automatically. The Ultramarine was surprised at the way the Custodian seemed to move in a way as he took a deep inhale.
"Where are we." Apollo turned to face the Ultramarine now, his grip on the spear becoming a little tighter.
"We are on Terra, my Lord."
Apollo stood there processing the conversation; he's never heard of a large time displacement going backwards. Ancient marines being shot forward in time was more common than not but... it could happen just he has no recollection of anything this severe, "When are you from."
"986.M30, my Lord." Internally the Ultramarine knew he was breaking protocols with these lines of question... they were supposed to ease in new arrivals... but then again this was a Custodes... and they had nothing ready for Custodes.
"I see." Apollo said as the silence before coming at him with, "I also see traitor marines in your midst."
"When are you from, my Lord?" The Ultramarine attempted deflection... Apollo could have killed him for such insolence.
"001.M42." Apollo said with a clipped breath.
"I... I see." The Ultramarine replied.
Apollo could see the micro movements of the armor... could see the way he was inhaling... he was clearly on the vox talking to others. He could order his machine spirit to override their encryptions to have full access to their conversation... but he refrained... for now. He glanced back down to his charge? He hardly was an Aquilian Shield to think of her as a charge but it felt right... a warmth that cradled itself between his hearts. His eyes pulled away and returned to their icy gaze as he looked around his mind playing stratagems of how he would dance between target to target he was confident even with her in his arm that he could kill them all. He had sparred with several Captain-Generals even the greatest of them all, Valdor. He was part of the host that was the Emperor's wrath... he was one of his Master's scalpels... and he saw much cancer to be removed.
"My Lord," Apollo looked to the Ultramarine, "if you will follow me... there is a lot we must inform you about." He started walking and Apollo adjusted his charge in his arms. Her golden eyes opened for a brief moment as the bags under her eyes were heavy... the way her hand shook weakly as she slurred out something in the language he did not know... how she curled against him once more before passing out again.
Apollo's eyes flicked about as they walked through the city seeing the baseline's glance about, none of them wearing any signifying colors that they were serfs or a part of some faction that Apollo knew of. The sky was a crisp blue that he knew few worlds had such a blue sky naturally and he is certain that if the Ultramarine was correct... the night sky might have a number of stars he knew by heart. But his eyes flicked to various windows as Apollo made mental notes of the traitor marines and any "loyalists" that would give him trouble should what they so desperately wanted to tell him... was unsatisfactory.
They approached the base as his eyes flicked to the defenses, far more lacking than what would normally be called for, his eyes flicked to the humans there. Negligible variables in his mind as they would die to simple flicks of his spear and they would be gone. He looked at the approaching Salamander Apothecary sizing them up, "Lord Custodes. I can take the human-" He starts slowly moving his arms to offer to take them.
"Dehydration and the beginning stages of starvation." Apollo says quickly, passing the bundle to the Salamander. He ignored the desire to pull her closer... he ignored the desire to rip her back into his arms... he ignored the desire to keep her close and have her stay with him. His icy blue eyes flicked to the Salamander... he would be a simple bump to cut through should he need to collect her; it would be easy to find her.
He followed the Ultramarine still into a meeting room as Apollo looked at the dozen of marines in the room. He stood like a statue in the doorway looking between each one of them planning out how he would kill each one and how he would move onto the next. When Apollo was satisfied with his stratagem he finally spoke, projecting his voice, "I have been here a total of three hours. And for that entire first hour I spent killing Traitor Astartes." He pauses for a moment, "In the past twenty minutes I have seen Thirty-two more. So gentlemen," He said with almost a snarl in his voice, "Tell me what is so important that should convince me to not start slaughtering you all."
It took them an hour to explain the bare bone basics. Apollo then made them stay an additional four to go into detail on every piece of information. He met with Loyalist "traitor" legion marines... A renegade marine... and one very brave Chaos Space Marine. Apollo processed the information in that painful silence, well painful for the Astartes as he was fine. He finally made a calculated move as he took off his helmet and pinched his brow. Utilizing a disarming technique to lure them into a calm but to express a desire to truly emote.
Apollo calculated the time span was roughly one of a ten thousand years with the earliest they were dealing with was one of the Uncrowned Princes fresh from the Unification Wars to the most recent which was a Primaris marine and himself being the latest to arrive from the Indomitus Era. "I'm satisfied with the explanation." Apollo said as there was a silent collective exhale of relief. "Have one of your Librarians determine if the human I brought in is... bonded to me."
"Yes my Lord." Someone said as Apollo stood up to leave the room.
Aurora feels that she's somewhere else... she's in a bed. She opens her eyes looking at the medical bed she is in as she sits in shock just remembering how she had fallen against her 'hero' as she had been calling him. Her hands began to tremble as... it... it was over? A click and a trill bring her eyes over to molten colored eyes of a large Salamander who is holding his hands open trying to look submissive, "Hello there little one." He says gently.
Aurora wanted to be brave... that she had handled being captured for the past few weeks with some dignity... Aurora wanted to be so very brave but she had accepted that she was going to die in some horrifying way... and tears fell from her brown-gold eyes. She wept as it was finally over... oh god it was finally over! "Shh Shh you're okay." She felt a hand on her shoulder and leaned into the gentle touch as she cried into his offered shoulder.
A nurse would come in eventually as she calmed down and slowly explained her ordeal and Aurora asked with a weak voice, "Can we call my mom? I've... I've been missing for awhile. My college probably called her."
"Of course Aurora. Do you want anything?"
Aurora swallowed softly, "A shower."
Aurora sighed happily as she felt fingers against her scalp. The last time she had been cleaned was in the camp by an Astartis that kept leering and getting too handsy.
"Diana." Another Nurse spoke through the door, "Big guy that brought her in wants to see her with the Librarian."
"Tell them I'm in the middle of bathing her." Her nurse said as she gently rinsed her hair.
The next voice through the door was in Gothic and sounded like an Astartes. Diana spoke it back... sounding more and more annoyed before sighing. "I swear for giants from space or whatever they really don't understand the concept of shame or that people don't like to be naked around them." She looks down at her, "They need to check something and don't want to wait I can-"
"It's fine. Just please... can... can you keep washing my hair." Aurora said with a whimper.
"Of course."
Apollo heard the whimper in her voice through the door as it soon opened as he saw those gold-brown eyes looking at him... there was shame in those eyes. He silently took in a sharp breath as he felt something painful rest between his hearts. His master needed to be taken care of. Each one of the Ten Thousand had done their part in lovingly taking care of Him before and after his placement on the throne. Apollo was no different as his eyes scoured her body... spying spots of blood still in her skin... her hair having knots in it... blood caked under her nails... all accompanying that look of shame in that golden gaze. He felt the deep aching need to be the one washing her hair... "Check." He said softly and quickly breaking himself from more thoughts.
As the librarian gazed into the warp... he did not know what he was looking at. There was a mess of "chains" and "vines" all around the Custodian. Writhing, locking, withering, pulling, coiling, unlocking... in a mess that he couldn't find what he sought. He looked to her and found the "tether" for a bond and followed it back... "Yes. She is your bonded."
Apollo turned away without another word and he threw his weight around to get what he needed as he took a "crash course" in the current local language called English. Once he grasped the basics, the noosphere was opened to him, simply called 'The Internet'. Apollo's mind rapidly took in what he learned as with what he saw made ten thousand year old memories danced across his mind. Cultures of ancient Terra became new again back home... ideas and images that are young or even old here and now cling to life and importance twenty-eight thousand years into the future and even older. Ideas were reused, rediscovered, once more lost, and once again found time and time again.
Apollo keeps watch over his new charge, he was made to kill not to coo at mortals like the Aquilian Shields or the Emissaries Imperatus often did, but he was digesting all that he had learned so far as his eyes looked to his charge and that gnawing in the back of his mind... she looked so familiar. Early the next morning an exhausted looking woman is escorted by the nurse to her room and through the window Apollo watches the two embrace and weep. Aurora, he reminds himself of her name as he replays the conversations she had with him after he saved her before she passed out.
"Captain," He voxes the appropriate leader, "Inform the bases near where she lives that I will be following."
"Right Away."
Aurora felt disappointed that she never got to properly thank 'hero' for saving her. Sure she saw him around but she also saw how everyone walked on eggshells, which would be impressive given how most of them were in that armor of theirs, around him. But she was going to be heading back home as she had found out she was a couple hundred miles away from home and where she was going to college... oh college... she started to think about college again.
"Ow." She is pulled from her thoughts as her mom gives the middle of her forehead a flick as she looks at her confused.
"None of that. I will be taking care of everything until you're ready to go back to college." Her mother said.
"But-"
"Aurora." She felt her mother hold her shoulders, "I have been living in limbo waiting to be told you were found dead. Please let me be the mom?"
Aurora could tell her mom had gotten a bit thinner... she always kept herself together even through the roughest parts of her childhood and she could tell she had taken the news about her being taken... badly. "Okay." She relented and hugged her mom smiling as she felt her kiss the top of her head. Aurora knows she wasn't planned for but her mother never made her feel like, as she put it, an oopsie.
"I'm going to finish up your discharge papers. And then I'm sure the nurse will come get you."
"Can you bring me something to eat?"
"I'll ask the nurses, kiddo." Her mom said before leaving the room and Aurora was left with her thoughts.
However, her eyes caught gold moving outside and she quickly rose out of bed and opened the door seeing 'hero' walking down the hall. "Hey big guy, wait." She called out as she moved towards him, oh sure she shouldn't be out of bed but she didn't want to miss this opportunity. She felt so small standing next to him and looking up at him as he now had a black shoulder cape that she vaguely remembers being wrapped up in... but he was looking down at her. She swallowed and smiled, "I'm probably going to be leaving soon but I've been wanting to thank you so much for saving me." She can't help but rise to the tips of her toes as she says 'thank you' just smiling up at the silent guardian.
Apollo, hidden behind the white faceplate and red eye lenses, felt something wash over him... praise. It was the same sort of warmth that he would get when He praised him. She looked ready to leave at his silence but Apollo placed his hand on her head giving her a gentle pat on the head. He removed his hand to not let strands of her hair get tangled in his servos. She smiled up at him, the smile reaching her golden-brown eyes, and once again that ten thousand year old part of him melted in the same way... that he was eager to get again. She quickly rushed back to her room and Apollo watched that waist length silken brown hair, a shade he knew by heart, sway with each quick bouncy step.
Eventually her life had to keep moving back forward and Apollo watched it all. He watched her blossom back to life, like the spring flowers she often loved to wear in the flower crowns. Her golden-brown eyes glittering with joy and laughter; sparkling in a way that stirred something within him. It made Apollo want to get closer... it made him want to touch her in ways that made him hesitate to get closer for he was disturbed by feeling such desires so intensely.
There were a handful of Custodes here and when they were from were also as varied as the Astartes. But they had a smattering of personalities and how they were handling these bonds... Odysseus; he could tell; was still in mourning and handling the bond with suspicion. Kaeso on the other hand urged him to enjoy it and Apollo bit his tongue when he wanted to remind Kaeso how to behave. However, Kaeso was behaving... behaving how he had been during the Unification wars and the Great Crusade... not to how he was used to him acting since those 'happier' times.
"It's you!" Aurora said excitedly as she looked up at Apollo whose armor was now clean and glittering in the light that fluttered between the leaves. Apollo looked at the crown of cherry blossoms on her head and could not help but think of how similar it felt to a laurel...
"Hello Aurora." Apollo finally spoke to her.
Aurora's eyes widened for a moment as she finally heard the soft masculine voice that came from the helmet, she was used to them having deep voices; and his was still deep compared to a normal human; but it was softer than what she expected. He watched her smile soon after taking steps to close the distance between them. And as she smiled at him Apollo watched the gold in her eyes glitter and glow in seeming approval of him. He took a knee and her smile grew once again, rounding her cheeks, as she bore her teeth in that very human gesture of a grin, even showing her gums slightly. "I am a Custodes. I go by many names each given to me for a deed I have completed. My deeds are numerous and my name long but you may call me Apollo."
Apollo smiled under his helmet as she grinned approvingly at his introduction and it made him feel good, but he didn't know why and part of him no longer cared. "I am your bonded." He stated and he listened to the way her heartbeat lept up as she giggled happily even bouncing slightly to show her uncontained joy at his statement. Even going up to him and giving him a hug. Apollo normally did not like mortals touching him or being close to him, but this felt nice.
Words flowed easy between them and when Apollo removed his helmet he heard her gasp. He felt something inside of him savor the way she held his face watching her eyes dart around his features. Cooing about the freckles that danced from one ear, down to the cheek below his eyes, over the bridge of his nose, and ending at the other ear. She looked over his strawberry blonde hair but it was clear she was enamored with his freckles... but she looked at him in a way he didn't know why but it made him crave for her to look at him more... to hold his face still... to look at him... to be so alive... he couldn't stop seeing his dear beloved Emperor in her.
"What's on your mind, Apollo?" She cooed at him.
"You look," He paused for a moment debating on telling her but decided it wouldn't hurt, "like someone I knew."
"Well, I'm certain you saw what my mom looked like. I do share at least half of my DNA with her." Aurora teased as she cupped his face still, running her thumbs over his cheeks.
"What of your father?" He said tilting his head, as he had quickly determined that she enjoyed him being emotive; a thing he noticed Astartes who wear their armor often with their human do... pantomime their expressions. He watched her exhale and roll her eyes as she pulled her hands away. Apollo held back a frown at the lack of contact between them.
"Never met him. Mom literally only met him once. Though it's a really funny story on how he got my mom, for context she never really randomly slept with people, to sleep with him." With her gestures and movements it was an often told story. "She was at some bar and tells me that she looked at the other end of the bar and sees the most handsome man she's ever seen. Tall, strong jawed, silky brown hair going to his... as she puts it 'nice ass', swore that his eyes had to be gold, and just had some European air about him; though... tangent we learned that he might have actually been Anatolian when I took a DNA test. But... " She waves her hand resuming the main point, "She waited a bit as she was certain that no one that good looking was at this bar alone. But he was so she decides to shoot her shot and they get talking." Aurora makes a grand gesture for the next words, "Massive nerd with many fields of interest, so my mom, also being one, saw that as a point in his favor. But that's not the thing that riles my mom up and gets her to sleep with him, oh no... so she asks him his name," She builds the suspense for a moment, "he called himself 'Revelation'." She waves her hands at the reveal. But she soon shakes her head and laughs, "My mom and I have had a laugh at that given how it sounds like she had already made up her mind to have sex with this stranger but it's funny that him being a 'mysterious' handsome stranger named Revelation. Is what cemented it for her. But yeah they had sex and nine months later I came into the world."
Apollo's pupils became pinpricks as he was, as was most of the ten thousand were, privy to many of His names and he distinctly remembers Revelation being one of them. His breathing remained steady, no outward sign betraying his emotions, but his heart was racing as time crawled for him as he finally really looked at Aurora drinking in every detail... he wasn't losing his mind as he could see it. She was his Master's child.
"I might know your father." Apollo said.
"Do you now?"
Aurora blinked as she had been doing so for the past 5 minutes digesting what was told to her after Apollo had info dumped a lot on her. She had to sit on a stump half way through his explanation of her father... "Okay so... let me go through the highlights. My dad is an immortal space warlord, who is also worshiped as a god, but heavily insisted that he wasn't a god... when apparently he liked to play god genetically. He was also a really shitty dad because how else do you get nine people who call you dad to want you dead?"
"That is a gross simplification of everything." Apollo stated bluntly.
"THAT ISN'T SAYING NO APOLLO!" She shouts. Apollo just huffs as he decides to not give her a vocal answer but he is pleased when she presses him for more, "And you want to find him because he made you when he was playing God but its not out of a familial obligation it's because you wholeheartedly serve him?"
"Correct."
She is quiet for several moments before letting out a sigh as she looks to him, "Okay Apollo I won't stop you from finding him. I'll even do my best to help you but I need you to answer something for me."
Apollo preened under her acceptance of his desire to find her father, "Gladly."
Aurora felt mean for what she was about to say but if what he had told her was true... he was like ten thousand years old... he could handle this easily. "What will you do when you find him? The man you know does not even exist yet and he might never exist. Given how he's the one who makes both you and apparently the Astartes and since you," she points to him, "are here and now and you're from the really far future and none of it includes mentions of this happening? Means that this is probably now an alternate timeline, if you believe in that of course. SO Apollo... please tell me... what are you going to do?" Her words struck at something deep inside of his psyche. His mind came to a screeching stop. "Oh God... Oh God... Apollo? I didn't mean to break you." Her voice cut through to his mind as he finally heard her again after being frozen still as a statue looking through her.
Apollo knew that this endeavor was utterly selfish... it was flawed and flimsy enough for a baseline mortal to see the holes in it... but he just wanted to serve a living Emperor again... he just wanted to see the life in his eyes once more... she was right... he wasn't the same man who had handcrafted him into what he was... Apollo felt himself mourning again as his hearts ached in pain as he looked at his bonded... his dearest Aurora... she was alive... oh she was oh so very much alive.
The golden chains that bind him and tether him to his beloved master are violently twisted apart with only few of them loosely hanging onto him as the vines dug and pushed under the claps and cuffs that the chains were wrapped around. Apollo was in that dark grief again as his mind rushed and tried to pull him out and there calling his name looking up at him concerned was Aurora. His thoughts coalesced crashed on that singular thought of how she was his beloved Master's child... and the poison blossom bloomed over his hearts as vines wrapped around his neck... around his being... holding him tightly as even the vines wrapped around the broken chain links leading back to his Master and held them in place.
"Apollo?" Aurora looked up at him concerned as he had stood there looking through her and being completely emotionless.
If he could not love and serve his beloved Master here... then the princess... this tiny Empress in front of him would have to suffice. Something deep inside of him was utterly thrilled at the thought of holding her again... her being so easy to pick up and hold... so small and fragile... her hands against his face again whispering praise to him... so small... and all his.
"Apollo? Are you okay?" She whined softly feeling guilty for causing him to shut down basically but Apollo smiled at her and nodded.
"Thank you Aurora. I needed to hear the truth." He gently took one of her hands and dropped to a knee as a practiced warm smile graced his face, "And with that... I am ready to diligently serve you. I vow to keep you safe. And to be as a bonded should be, my Lady." Apollo said his icy blue eyes watching her face as he then kissed the back of her hand before turning it slightly and kissing her pulse point on her wrist. He contained his smile as he felt it against his lips and heard her pulse quicken. His eyes drank up the blush on her tanned skin.
She squeaked as he picked her up, princess style, easily and once more Apollo regarded her blush akin to being praised! Words once more again flowed easy between them as he carried her back to where she was staying as he could tell she was excited to have him as her bonded... perhaps not as excited as he was but he was certain in time she would be.
Perhaps Apollo could see why Valdor was so enamored by the Shards he often collected... so deliciously small... and all very much his.
LISTEN ignore the Carnal Bond part for now it doesn't matter what I have planned for them for later...
The fact that he has one and is absolutely normal about the tiny Empress in a strictly knight to princess sort of way... LIES
Also the tiger can play very good game at looking like a house cat... knowing how to mimic a meow and seeing the way her eyes light up as she just pets him.
Also I'm certain Aurora can reign Apollo in and he just doesn't have to coo at her and make her blush to make her putty in his hands... oh certainly not her... and she also certainly doesn't have any daddy issues from not having a father in her life that Apollo would exploit and make her melt in his hands...
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