Hi, can I have the warband from Miniature Marines having a snuggle-fest with the reader, but they need to get up for work, but every time they try the astartes snuggle even more, so they feel REALLY guilty and end up staying there for hours. Need a fix if cute baby Astartes 🥰
𓆩⟡𓆪 You can have these lil buggers! They will seduce you with their cuteness, chirps and sad(fake) cries! Look away! They are like sirens!
𓆩⟡𓆪 Do note these lil guys are getting a remodel.
Summary: Work calls, but so do your little marines.
||Words: 1.1k+.||TW// Missed Work.
The alarm on your phone ever slowly wakes you up. The ringtone slipping into your dream, confusing you before you realize where the source is coming from. A groan leaving your lips while you shift in the bed to turn the dastardly thing off.
Yet you may there for a second more. Thinking. Unwilling to leave the warmth of your bed just yet. The feeling reminding you of the days you used to wake up at an ungodly hour just to get on a bus full of other sleep children. Well, until that group of friends take the back seats of the bus, but that won’t make you money just rotting in bed all day long.
You shift again, forcing yourself to lean up in your bed. A few tiny grumbles and huffs surrounding you when you do. The light weight of what feels like jawbreakers rolling into your lap as your eyes look down to find the rather adorable source.
Sarvak the tiny World Eater and Saveth the Night Lord were curled around one another. The two always fighting and teasing but it seems in their sleep they forgive one another. Snuggling close like twin brothers, but you know they will pull apart and hiss at one another when they awaken. That is more so amusing.
Scarab the Thousand Son seems to be in a strange, otherworldly hover. His armored form crisscrossed but still hovering you're bedding as if meditating. You’re surprised you don’t question the possibilities of this marine. To be curious of how he’s doing that, but you think that would be like messing with a Ouija Board. You might get cursed or something kin to that. You just… leave him be with the way he sleeps.
Atheloca the Death Guard, perhaps the sweetest one of the group is already awake. Always awakening when you do, giving you a hallow stare with that helmet of his but the sounds he makes too are of the latter. He always tries to sway you to sleep longer so he could snuggle close into your warmth once more. His sounds almost sad-like while he purrs up at you, and honestly? You’re not sure if you’ll want to go to work this morning.
Perhaps you can make an excuse? Get a doctor’s note from the apothecary… but knowing some apothecaries? They would rather let you work to death unless it affects a marine. Maybe you could say the little marines are not sleeping well? Ah, but apothecaries are much more keen than regular human doctors… hmm.
You must have zoned out for a moment as a second alarm spooks you out of it. Your reaction like a car jumping to the ceiling. Of course, you didn’t but it did spook the rest of the marines awake. Growls and hisses leaving every single one of them, expecting something to be dangerous but no. It was just you getting spooked by the alarm.
“Sorry.” You apologize softly, your hand coming down to steady and pat every single blue, red and green armor that has rolled further into your lap like your lap was a doodlebug awaiting. “Didn’t mean to frighten.”
Sarvak grumbles and huffs at you, more focused on putting his anger on Saveth who hisses and chirps at him like a frightened bat. Scarab says nothing but he does stop his strange hovering. He’s now standing on your knee looking up at you with disdain or curiosity. You’re unsure.
Atheloca, again, is awake from the first alarm. Rumbling up at you, grasping on of your fingers that tries to soothe them all. His helm hollow yet his moment says otherwise.
“I should get to work.” You sigh, trying to move your hand away from Atheloca but it seems as if he doesn’t want to let you go. A low but rather cute warning sound coming from him as he pulls your finger back to him as if to say ‘Stay.’
“Cute.” A sound of tired amusement comes from you as you shake your head. Perhaps he knows that you’re not getting enough sleep yourself? Perhaps he knows you don’t like your job? You don’t know what goes down through their tiny minds, but you do know that you care for them. They are not to be disregarded. You’ll be damned to have your bones crushed by a brother World Eater, a psycho mind from a Thousand Son, a rotten body from a Death Guard or your skin being flayed by a Night Lord. You were tasked to protect them, feed them… You wouldn’t want to risk angering Astartes than your work.
“I need to make money to live.” You coo softly down at them. Trying to convince them (and yourself) that it’s how it’s going to go. Your fingers gently patting the top of their helms to try and soothe them once more.
Yet Atheloca isn’t having it. Neither is the rest of them.
All of them are chirping and growling at you. Telling you off, surely, but you can’t understand any of their words. They all just sound like a flock of Finches or Budgies to you, and it didn’t help that you could imagine them with angry fluffed up fathers too. It was cute but slightly annoying…
“It’s how we humans live.” You sigh, shaking your head at them as if disappointed in them. “Work, eat, sleep, repeat. It’s what the working class does.”
They didn’t seem at all pleased with that answer. You could feel their gaze turning into a ticklish fire and you can’t help that twitch of a smile. You know, the one where your parents think you’re lying but you’re not? You just somehow find it funny?
Oh, but they don’t think it’s funny.
A deep sigh leaves your lips when they seem to have a collective thought to give you their best pouting performance you could ever see from them. Saveth and Atheloca don’t hesitate to be vocal and give you their heart-breaking cries while Sarvak and Scarab don’t even look at you as if you killed their trust.
Oh, damn it all.
You scoop them all up and into your arms. Their surprised squeaks feeling very amusing to you as you lay back down on your back. Letting tiny marines to settle on your chest. Your hand coming up to slightly cup them to protect them from an imaginary threat.
“You’re lucky.” You scoff, pretending to be angry. Your eyes looking them over one by one. “Lucky that you’re all cute and stubborn… You win this round.”
Sarvak chuffs back out you, seemingly not liking to be called cute but you do see him perk up at another challenge… Scarab doesn’t do much but settles back into his hovering, meditating state. Though it definitely feels as if he’s more relaxed than usual. Saveth doesn’t hesitate to curl right up to you, and neither does Atheloca. The little love bugs you sometimes tease them with. They don’t know what ‘love bug’ means but tilt tone sounds attentive.
Gosh, you’re so lucky you get paid handsomely to keep them alive.
Nubin
Bev can feel his hot lips sear against her own during that fuzzy time after the dragon claimed its stake over her body. She feels so tired... so lethargic... as how long has it been? How much pleasure has been dragged out of her body? Bev just wanted to be seen and feel like a woman again... and certainly the creature looming over her was eager to help with that.
The room smelt of sweat and sex and something distinctly Nubin... she whimpered softly feeling her eyes slip close as he cups the back of her head and pushes his tongue into her parched mouth. Even the warm saliva seems to sooth her but she feels so disoriented underneath his body. Naked bodies pressed against one another as he kisses her so tenderly compared to what memories of the past... while drifts into her mind.
She can feel how sore she is... how utterly weak and helpless she feels right now. But Bev can manage to pull her mouth away from his for a moment as the dragon above her laps his tongue against the side of her neck... tracing the junction of her ear, jaw hinge, and neck... lapping at it lovingly and lustfully.
"Nubin..." She whimpers out causing the dragon to pause over her... she could feel him grinning... her eyes adjusting and finally seeing the white teeth appear out of the darkness her eyes using the dim sliver of light that she is afforded. "No more... please... no more."
Such a dark rumbling chuckle leaves his chest unlike the usual mirthful laugh she was so use to. Bev was in the deep end uncertain exactly who this version of Nubin was over her was. His answer to her? He simply leaned in and stole another slow and tender kiss.
Sirus
His moonlight blushed down at him as she with a few other women listened to the angel croon. Colorful fabrics flooded the windows as several dozen women looked down at him hoping perhaps that it was a caller for them but they could see the half curly blonde hair move in the tied back ponytail and could tell that it was Sirus crooning for his moonlight.
Her roommates grinned at her as they helped her put pins in her hair and wrap her up in such a lovely red shawl before she pulls away to go stop the poetic proses fluttering to other ears but her own. She rushes out the front door to the still crooning Sirus as she tries to pull him away.
Sirus picks her up so that the sand nor dust can share his darlings touch. He nuzzles the back of her head as he whispers softly to her how much he loves her. Moonlight on the other hand cannot stop smiling and her face hurts from just how much he makes her smile. She just turns around in his hold and pushes her painted lips to his to silence him and he blinks down at her as a bit of the fresh lipstick imprinted upon his own mouth. And for once she has left him speechless.
Zul
She clung to him... he had taken to calling her Spaseniye...it was the first thing he thought of when freed from his rage... Salvation. She was trapped here... trapped with him as she looked as fearful as the slaves and sacrifices did. She couldn't use many of her tricks, as he saw it, the mist of blood suppressing her tricks.
Zul knew he needed to change who he was working with... he needs his Spaseniye. He made the mistake of showcasing her skills and his brothers had a moment of clarity... till Kreeg decided that he didn't want to share. Zul killed several of his brothers... she was his Spaseniye... him even allowing them to feel the cooling touch of her powers... to let them gaze into her eyes.
She cowers more as he starts to growl and snarl as she. was. HIS. Spaseniye flinches as Zul lunges into the corner she is cowering in. "Open them." He snarls as instinctually she closes her eyes tightly like a child trying to hide from the monster if she can't see it. The bruising grip on her chin and her eyes fly open as aquamarine like tears run down her cheeks seeming to take the swirling colors from her eyes into her tears as well.
His tongue smears blood upon her cheeks as he licks up those tears feeling the calm rush through him. Every part of her calmed him down... her hands on his scarred and muscled forearm... it felt like cool and clean water running over his skin. She was crying and he was there trapping her in the corner of his room licking up her tears. Her tears dried up as she whimpered just trying to pull away as Zul runs his tongue once more over her cheeks just licking up as much as her salvation infused tears as he could.
His rough tongue brushing far too close to her mouth... he could feel and hear the way Spaseniye sharply inhaled as his tongue met sensitive lips. He remembers... the hand holding her chin... his thumb presses against her bottom lip. His eyes unfocused yet hyperfocused on the way her mouth moves as she whimpers before he watches her lips part as she softly says his name. MINE.
Spaseniye feels the air leave her lungs as she is pushed back half bending back as Zul's mouth pushes against hers. It is a rough kiss like everything else she has experienced so far with Zul. Her small delicate hands grip fistfuls of his clothes. She feels disoriented as he overwhelms her like the raging madman that he is... leaving her no quarter as she just holds on and tries to remember to breathe. She whimpers as he pulls his mouth back to breath himself. His eyes scanning over those puffy lips as he can taste blood from cutting her now swollen bottom lip with his teeth. Her blood tasting sweet as sensations run down his spine.
Spaseniye feels the way Zul just pulls her to him as he can feel enough peace to rest. As she is once more trapped in his arms... and she just closes her eyes to rest as well.
Palion
His muse did not trust him. Even after all of the gifts he has given her... his brothers say he should just take what he wants from the mortal. After all Slaanesh would embrace such heights of pleasure and desire from him but Palion refused such temptations! But he knew he was worshiping Slaanesh with this denial of his affections as they built up more and more to a dizzying HEIGHT!
His Muse looks at him from her nest as she just hides from the naked slaves eager to worship his form. He does his best to remain unaroused lest they do their best to try to help him and he can feel her stealing glances at him. The way her eyes dance across his back... he can feel her eyes on him. He dismisses the attendants, one looks disappointed clearly desiring his cock.
He walks over clothed now and done up as he looks down at her. She is wrapped in her nice robes as he looks her over with just affection in his eyes. "My darling muse. How beautiful you are this day." He says before brushing his mouth against the back of her hand.
Muse did not know what to think of her new 'master' she tried time and time again to get out of him what her purpose was. She wasn't a sex toy as he had several of those far more willing to be debased upon his cock. She wasn't a sacrifice... he wouldn't let her get away with so many words thrown his way or rejections of his desires. He refused to answer her... he held out a mask toward her as he would offer her some horribly revealing thing to wear or a robe to cover herself... and a mask that would go with either.
"Will you tell me what I am to you?" Muse asked again looking up at him with sad eyes.
"My Companion." Is all Palion said as he delicately fixed her hair that would still be covered up by her hood.
She looked up at him and he just smiled down warmly at her... his long white hair practically iridescent or perhaps incandescent was the word she was looking for... she swallowed softly. "Well I hope to be a good companion to you." She said before she pressed her lips against his ready to be jerked back and have his tongue shoved down her throat.
His claw like nails just ghosted over his painted lips and Palion just smiled, "Well someone's feeling affectionate today. We can go over that later what it means to be my companion my darling Muse." He says securing her mask and picking her up to go greet his adoring admirers.
Nakht
He hummed softly as she trembled in the magic circle... her entire form was at his mercy... he could turn her into some dog shaped human if he so desired. That is what this spell allows him to do... Nakht looked at how there are the starting stages of a beak forming making her more in line with the feathery side of their lord.
He could in theory just finish it for her... give her such a beak and make that blessed mutation complete. His thumbs push away the formation of it as her mouthless cries of indignation but he shushes her as his thumbs work the flesh like a man works clay.
His eyes glow as he shapes his Birdie's flesh to how he knows... though he does shape them to be a little bit fuller... softer for his promised kiss in fixing her. She whimpers and tries to pull away as she feels more of her shift a bit... a few more feathers are added to make her a little bit more... appealing asymmetry. "Sit still lest I ruin my work leaving you damaged." He hisses out that last word.
"I just wanted my mouth fixed not changed!" She squaks back in her usual way, her feathers raising up in agitation.
"I'm just making you better." Nakht says laughing softly as he finally finishes adding a few more feathers and making the transition between the rough flesh of her hands a lot smoother... oh yes she was his beautiful Birdie.
She pouts and Nakht resists biting his bottom lip at the way her bottom lip is more pronounced now... he cannot wait to bite it himself. He conjours up a mirror for her to see and can see his darling Birdie's eyes glitter as she sees more feathers. Normally Nakht was not overly fond of the hybridization that can happen with some gifts... but how his Birdie adored her beautiful blue plumage, her claw like hands, and even her beak was beautiful to him.
"I should get-" She yelps as he pulls her to him with a lustful gaze in his electric blue eyes.
"Ah ah ah... the first part of our 3 part agreement." Nakht says leaning in his golden skin with his light blue tattoos upon his cheeks and hands and his tied back brown hair as he pushes his birdie down onto her back.
He bites his bottom lip as he will wait to give her large brilliant blue wings he fears she might try to fly away from him but he knows how beautiful she will look with them with such joy. The blush dances across her skin as she looks away. "F-fine take your stupid- MUMPH" She cannot finish as Nakht presses his mouth to hers.
His tongue delving into her mouth and rubbing against hers as he has been waiting to kiss his Birdie for so long. Years. Of meticulous planning gone to waste all because some fool attempted to ruin his Birdie; but it gave him a better opportunity and chance... oh yes... he moans into the kiss. This was so much better.
When he pulls away he's panting and goes back in to nuzzle her neck, his eyelids fluttering, just feeling utterly HIGH. Oh yes... this turn of events was SO much better.
"Now... who did this to you." He says with a dark malice in his voice.
He’d requested that if Space Wolves, those vile barbarians were in the area, that he doesn’t have to deal with them. Especially since those bastards destroyed Prospero, unjustly. Imhoden had been one of the Sorcerer Kings of Prospero who rose up in defiance against the Space Wolves hunting.
Hearing how his father had died at the hands of the Barbarian Wolf King burned a rage fierce in his hearts that had been difficult to quell. But he had managed to calm down enough to not set himself sparking with rage. Using the Warp was very, very difficult now, and the cost of energy was higher than he was used to it being.
He carefully joins a group of Loyalist Thousand Sons, all of them from various points in the Imperium’s history. They were trying to figure out how they got here, and if there was a way to get back to where they had come from. Even if they did manage to do so, could they, would they remember what they learned when they had come to Ancient Terra.
Time paradoxes, as well as Time Loops and the potential for setting Alternate Timelines were all discussed among this band of brothers, and their fellow cousins who have the knowledge of learned scholars and mastery of the Warp.
Hearing of the Ordo that helps manage and maintain the timeline, sending their agents to ensure The Holy Timeline (whatever that means to make sure that things don’t go off course) seems… almost insane.
Also, while that Ordo hasn’t been formed yet, they could have agents in this time, or nearby monitoring the flow of time and see if there were ‘unholy’ branches that started to bud, and they would destroy that which didn’t fit their narrow world view of What Was The Right Time Line.
And some baseline humans called his Legion Arrogant. To think that one could control Time itself and the flow into the Proper Time, sounded absolutely arrogant and the height of stupid foolishness that would only end in tragedy that none would remember and potential tragic hilarity. For all creatures are subjected to Time, for its cruel grasp, that and Death are the only two real certainties.
One of the times that Imhoden was out gathering some supplies, he hears a voice that he can barely recognize. He turns and sees one of the Chaos Marines- in Colors of post-Heresy Thousand Sons. His hearts sink and his eyes widen when he realizes just who it was that was calling out to him.
One of those who’d survived the burning of Prospero and the Deal with The Chaos God, who’d survived Ahriman’s destruction of the Thousand Sons into ‘curing’ the Flesh Change.
“Janus?” Imhoden gasps out. No- his brother- one of his dearest friends in the Thousand Sons. One of the brothers whom had been with him since the very beginning stages of him becoming a Space Marine of the Thousand Sons was. Had fallen.
“You look just how you did,” Janus says stunned as he peers down at his smaller and now younger brother, “I’m glad that you survived the Burning of Prospero, even though it meant your arrival here.”
“For me, the Burning of Prosper has only been a few months,” Imhoden says.
“For me it’s been nearly ten thousand years,” Janus says, before smirking at him, “You are now the little brother.”
Imhoden groans at that, they had been almost born and started their Aspirant training on the near same day. So arguing over who was older and who was younger was something that they’d teasingly done all throughout their lives.
“Janus, no,” Imhoden says with an annoyed groan.
“Janus, yes.” Janus warbled back with a cackle. “I’ve missed you Odi, so much.”
Warnings: magical ritual, imprisonment, ask me to tag something if it bothers you
Summary: Joth wakes up post deamon-stabbing. Things go… Strangely from there.
Joth woke up to the sound of smug sorcerer chanting, and the worst headache he's had in over three hundred years. The Thousand Son who made off with Joth's own rightful sacrifice has tied him upside down to some sort of stone. Fucker left his mouth unbound, so the irritated World Eater planned on making it the damned blue badtard's problem. “HEY FUCKER! LET ME OUT OF THIS AND GIVE ME BACK MY SACRIFICE!” He also starTed to struggle against the chains binding him in place, hoping that either the links in the chain or the stone to which he'd been pinned to would give way, thrashing as much as his bindings would allow him to.
“Hmm… No. I had been stalking after that rare specimen for months in preparation for this Ritual. Then you showed up at the last moment and messily ripped it apart. Luckily for me, you kept intact the organs and bones I required for this. I and dozens of my brothers are collaborating together on this Great Work, and should we succeed, it will allow those of us who are blessed by Chaos to work with the Warp much more similarly like it is back home, rather than the ash-fired clay effort it takes to do anything more than minor tricks here and now.” The Thousand son sniffed, glaring naughtily down at Joth for a couple of moments before returning to his chanting.
The World Eater thought about that for several seconds - the greater blessings of Khorne he had earned couldn't be used in this time, on Ancient Terra for reasons Joth could only begin to guess at. The ability to go on sustained Rampages… To ensure the Blood Flowing and the collected Skulls given to the Throne…
It was almost enough to get him to purr and settle into his bonds. “... and if I promise not to interfere with your… Ritual? Will you let me free then?” He could respect another's irritation at a kill being stolen from him. Stuffy blue fuck could have led with that hours ago and saved them both the trouble. But no, stubborn bastard sorcerers refused to communicate in more than smug smirks and annoying as fuck riddles a good ninety percent of the time, trying to prove that they were so much smarter than everyone else.
At least his Primarch survived the Heresy, and had led them to greater powers, as well as the endless glory of fighting for Khorne. Away from the false light and moneyed lies of the corpse-Emperor and his throne of lies and two-faced duplicity.
The thousand son continued to chant for several minutes, the brilliant blue glow of Warpcraft steadily shining through the other's eyes, mouth and hands as he continued the task he had set himself. Fucker didn't even look in his direction in order to acknowledge that Joth had spoken.
One of his oldest and most familiar companions - Wrath - charged to the forefront of his mind, made his dual hearts sing for the preparation of battle, in spite of the deamon-poison stings that caused his body to ache fiercely all over. Joth struggled against his bindings again, feeling some of the metal begin to stretch and give way beneath his bulk and strength.
The thousand son continued to ignore him completely, his chanting in the partially air-filled cave bouncing off of the walls, creating an echo that made it seem as if dozens or even hundreds of fellow Sorcerers were chanting with him, just a beat or two off of his own chanting. The blue of warp use continued to intensity- and started to color and light the water where the other Mer sat tall, hands weaving complicated symbols over the sacrificial bones and meat laid out on the altar the fucker was sitting in front of.
The bones and meat had begun to glow as well. Moments after that, they began to move, slowly at first before gaining speed. They started to spin around and around the room, with each revolution getting faster and faster. Along with the chanting, Joth could swear that he could hear the last pained and frightened calls that the large aquatic mammal had made - had they been a warning call, to chase others away, or a desperate plea for help?
As the glowing and chanting continued to intensify, one of the larger organs suddenly splattered against a sharp rock, causing the color of the warp-crafted light to change from blue to magenta.
Oh fuck no.
Whichever of the dark powers the thousand son had been seeking to strengthen, the plea had just shifted to another, and Joth was not going to participate in a Slaaneshi ritual while tied to a big, fuck-off boulder. He could be interpreted as part of the sacrifice and that was not happening.
Joth continued to thrash and struggle against his binings, feeling the Metal continue to give way…
But the warp-light was intensifying, and the distinctive crunch of bone on stone intensified the magenta hue, prompting the Khornate Chaos Marine to triple his efforts in an attempt to escape.
The light, chanting and spinning of flesh and bone continued to intensify, weĺl-past blinking and deafening to Joth at this point, even as he'd shut his eyes, to try and preserve them.
The sound of his chains breaking was the sweetest down Joth could ever remember hearing, and he shot out of the water - feeling the electrifying buzz of active warp-energy coating his scales… Which may or may not have consequences he'll need to deal with and/or adjust to. But that was Later Joth's problem. Right now he needed to get the fuck out of here before the ritual either ended successfully.
Or… Considering this was a project led and done by The Thousand Sons… Blow up spectacularly horribly in their faces, leading to a widespread and devastating curse affliction them. But Joth had no interest in Being Cursed by an overconfident sorcerer coven.
He swum as swiftly as the twisting tunnels and partially filled watery caverns would allow him, following the scent of fresh air.
About half-way through he battled into something small, soft and warm. His deepest instincts howled Mine! Protect! Defend! As different kinds of chains began to wind around his soul, leading into your small and delicate psychic fingertips.
Having no desire nor time to explain what he was fleeing, Joth scoops you, his newly bonded human up and continues to swim at his top speed, keeping you tucked into his chest, both so that you’re as safe as he can make you be at the moment, and so that you don’t slow him down.
He does not stop when he carries you up and out of the underwater cave system that you’d been exploring. Nor does he slow down as you flail and scream - nor heed much to the confused yelling of your friends.
But since those yelling humans are important to you, they are also picked up as he continues swimming through the air as fast as he can. He air-swims for hours before gently setting you and your friends down on the soft candy beach. He curls around you protectively as a wave of magenta-tinted exhaustion hits him “Danger… in the caves.. Do not return… Little Bonded…” He croon, making sure to use the same language that you and your friends have been yelling at him the most in, his eyes closing, even as he keeps curled protectively around you.
𓆩⟡𓆪 Please, have this little drabble. I need something happy. Drama life isn’t for me.
𓆩⟡𓆪 𝐒𝐞𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐎𝐂’𝐬: Hura The Death Guard by @/gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan.
||Words: 1.5k|| TW// Sickness is Descriptive.
Your bed feels suffocating to you. You can’t sit still. You can’t be comfortable enough to be warm and cold nor just right. It was rather frustrating with your senses that sometimes you notice yourself crying in your sleep. Too overstimulated or unable to hear or breathe yet too tired to wake up fully.
At least, this is how you feel when sick. Feeling like you’re on your own deathbed. As if a nasty hand of a Death Guard has got a hold of you, and ironically? You’re getting treated by one too. The apothecary that calls himself “Hura.”
It is a rather calm name for such a patient doctor of a Astartes. You feel as is he’s to type not to snap too much at his stubborn patients. Yet won’t take the denial of his medicine lightly either. There is a… weird feeling around him but you honestly trust an Astartes doctor more so than a human one. Astartes would be straight up with you, never telling a lie or hesitating. Unlike human doctors where they stammer. Unable to give correct information and don’t listen to you when you know something is wrong. You know your own body after all. The human doctors do not.
“Are you feeling better, little one?” It wasn’t an endearment, more so a nickname. You dare not to say the Death Guard Apothecary forgot your name yet you wonder if that would be an insult to an Astartes.
“What doctor, forgot my name already?” You tease with a rasp before coughing. Your lungs feeling dry and your throat, even though you drink enough water that you feel like you’re going to throw up nothing but the water you just drank and your own stomach acid.
“You tease, even in a vulnerable state.” Hura doesn’t seem amused yet not disregarding either. His multiple, milky green eyes looking you over. No doubt checking you up better than what a baseline could with just a single stare.
“Aw, you don’t sound amused.” You pout next, even when you look more like a wet dog that’s been some road kill.
The smoky green armored Apothecary hums. A deep rumble escaping from where he stands: in front of the door of your bedroom. “Perhaps I am, perhaps not. It’s only how you choose to take my words.”
His words sound like static to your sickly brain. Unable to really grasp what he’s saying but you try your best to have a quip. “What’s my diagnosis, dear Hura? Will I rot upon this dastardly bed? Be stuck within your persistent care?”
Hura tilts his head. His horns nearly scraping across the ceiling of your home that was built rather strategically by Imperial Fists. The home big enough for an Astartes to fit but also small enough that it doesn’t feel like a human is in an empty space of an Asylum room. Yet, the doctor was silent at that. Perhaps thinking how pleasing true your own words could be.
“You choose to waste your energy to tease me.” He rumbles, and it almost sounds like a tease right back if it weren’t for that hint of scolding too. “You must rest. I’ll bring you something warm to soothe your throat and hunger.”
True to his own words, you have gained a fitful sleep after he has gone to fetch you something edible for your sickness. Your body yet again unable to feel comfortable. Body too hot or too cold, and you don’t really remember how you ended up in the tiles of your bathroom but you liked the feeling of the cold tiles underneath you. It was much better to feel cold more so than of heat.
“Little one?” You can hear the Apothecaries voice rumble out, looking for you but you don’t move. Your stomach doesn’t seem all the too happy to well… move from the coldness of the tiles that seem to settle it.
You can feel the vibrations of Huras silent walking though, from laying on the ground. To hear the soft thumps. It was like if you were trying to hear for a train on the train tracks, and it soothed you somehow with the rhythm.
“Oh, little one.” A defeated, sad-like sigh leaves Hura as he finds you in your bathroom, shivering but finding comfort with the cold ground. The smell of recent vomit surrounding your form. You must have woken up to throw up within the toilet before resigning yourself to the tiled ground.
The caring Apothecary moves to kneel beside you. A gauntlet hovered near your weak form, checking up on you before ever gently picking you up bridal style. A pure sound of discontent leaving your throat that he purrs to. Trying to soothe. “The cold will not help you defeat your sickness, little one. Nor being a tease and grumpy.”
You give another sound, a grumble. Moving your head to press against his armor that is a good cold replacement than of the tiled ground. Tensing up for a second, feeling as if you have to vomit again but then relax as Hura moves you to your bed once more, not yet tucking you in.
“Here little one, eat.” He shows you a bowl of something warm, chicken soup you barely grasp. You think he must of summoned the soup but in reality he put it on the nightstand before he had picked you up from the bathroom floor. “Strengthen yourself.”
You grumble again, not willing to eat or move yet you try your best anyway, a shaking hand coming out to hold the warm bowl. If you didn’t? You’re sure Hura would force feed you himself.
“Good, you’re better than most patients.” The Death Guard Apothecary praises you with a nod but then goes back to scolding. “You must stay warm, no cold bathroom tiles even though tempting.”
You don’t answer. Too busy eating your soup with ravenous bites. You’re hungry, yes, but you don’t like the thought of puking it all up later. You suppose it’s better than vomiting up your own stomach acid though. That can burn while food just feels like chunks, and who knows? Maybe you’ll get lucky that you actually dissolve the food before it becomes toilet food.
“The little ones worry for you.” Hura starts, carefully watching you eat your measured fill. “They chirp and whine up at me like little kits. They wish to give you comfort.”
The little ones? Ah.
Sarvak, Saveth, Scarab and Atheloca. The four little marines of chaos you have been entrusted with to keep safe and sound when they are probably better off with their own brethren. No one knows why they are tiny. No one knows the cause but at least they know the effect it has, and it has some searching for the cause. Not willing to become a small marine or have a small baseline as their counterpart.
“Is it… allowed?” You ask after a big swallow of soup. Feeling more energized but still weak and sleepy at the same time. “What if their defense systems are weak now they are small?”
“A reasonable question.” Hura hums, sounding amused with your worry. “I suppose I would have to care for them as well if they do. They are strong warriors. They will live.”
His words don’t really soothe you of the possibility but you won’t deny the Apothecary either. You’re in no state to, and you honestly wanted to see the little buggers yourself. It’s been awhile since they had called on of the most persistent doctors upon you because you didn’t want to stop and rest.
If you remember correctly… it was Atheloca that had chirped for him. A Death Guard to a Death Guard, and who is Hura to refuse a fellow brethren turned tiny? Who is he to refuse to work upon this case of small marines? He could also see if you have been treating them well or not and it seems you have formed a bond. He’s unsure what type. He doesn’t dare to prod into his tiny brethren to find out.
“I will put them by your side.” Hura says quietly with a nod. Turning away to find the little trouble makers, but it is not that hard to find them when they are standing right at the door. Stacked upon one another to try and get to the nob. It’s was a… cute sight an attempt. They are simply not that tall enough.
The rumbling Apothecary swoops them up, gaining surprised chirps and grumbles before turning back around and extending his gauntlet out to you. Each one of his eyes following on how each marine scrabbles off his gauntlet on plops down onto your nest. Chirping at you and purring, seeing if you’re okay.
Hura simply watches as you laugh at them happily. An action that takes the rest of your energy as you snuggle down. The marines, tuned in from the bond and perhaps more animalistic instinct from being small, cuddle up to you. Around a vulnerable spot, your collar bone. Curling up and purring like little cats. Uncaring for the Apothecary that observes with slight, hidden amusement.
