Fic idea where Vulkan has been found after being tortured for the umpteenth time, taken in by Guilliman to recover and is cared for by reader(or OC ofc) I'm picturing a "they fell first but he fell harder" type thing, because this poor dragon boy has NOT felt a caring touch or the gaze of someone kind since... ever. Maybe our Y/n or OC likes to dabble in crafts (wire wrapping, carving, etc) and they have a moment of bonding through it, idk.
Maybe all fluff, all smut [Vulkan just cant take care of himself :( he needs a bit of more personalized assistance] or [he recovers and after months of torment goes to find reader for some relief], some angst [reader/oc gets in trouble and he cant help], idk go nuts(theres next to no fics with my favorite dragon man and im Starving)
Taking Care of a Dragon
Vulkan x Gn! Reader
MDNI
W: Mentions of torture, injuries, recovery, fluff, smut
There were many things Vulkan could cope with. Injuries from forging a new weapon, accidents from training or sparring, wounds from battles well fought. He could deal with most of the things the world threw at him, after all, he was forged for such a purpose, and yet, after spending Emperor knows how long being tortured, he had enough. He didn’t know what the voices around him were doing, he only knew he was final free from it and he was being taken to Maccragge. When he awoke, he thought he had been left alone in a private chamber. He tried moving, his body burning in the process and begging him to stay still. That still didn't stop him from trying to leave his bed, only to feel what was a small pressure on his chest.
"My lord, please. You must stay put. Your injuries are severe and we must keep them clean." You urged him to stay still, and alas, he did. Vulkan lay still in his cot. His eyes barely opened, struggling to fully take in your image.
You were a vision. He thought for a moment that he had truly died and met Angel as you shushed him and began cleaning his dampened sweat-covered skin with a a wet towel. He grabbed your hand, small in comparison to his own, and began to caress it in a tender circling motion
“An angel has been bestowed upon me.”
“No, my lord, you’re hallucinating." You insisted but it did nothing to make the heated feeling in your face ease. You were touching a Primarch, a god made into flesh and he had just proclaimed you to be just as holy. It made your stomach knot with anxiety. If he was making such proclamations it meant his injuries had to have been more severe than what you initially thought.
“My lord, I will fetch the apothecary so they may run a more thorough diagnostic.” You gathered your things and began leaving the chambers before being followed out by the voice of the Primarch.
“Please make sure to come back, if you can.” With that, you left the chambers, leaving Vulkan by himself. His eyes began to close as the medication you had administered began to work. His eyes closed once again, not knowing where he would end up.
When he awoke, he was greeted by your face, staring at him, all worried. You had a damp towel in your hand and a bucket by your side. You were cleaning him.
"My lord. You're awake. This is stupendous. I'll inform the apothecary." You were about to get up and run out, but was stopped by his hand wrapping around your arm.
His touch was gentle but warm, like he was a furnace burning with a hidden flame under his skin. You didn't dare move away or move closer. Whatever this living god wanted, you would do. You had to. You wanted to.
"Please stay." He begged. His eyes burned into you. A sorrow that you never thought possible was present in them.
"As you wish." You sat down again, your hand not moving from your arm as you did. You placed your hand on his own, rubbing it in gentle strokes.
"What's your name?" He asked. His voice was soft, almost meek.
"Does it matter to you? Will it bring you comfort?" You asked.
"My angel must have a name." He said, amused.
You told him your name. A heat began to rise in you as he smiled and mentioned how beautiful it was. This was the start of it. The beginning of it all.
As he recovered, he sought you out. You became his constant, his other half. His sons, his medical team, even his brothers, knew that you were his and he was wholly yours. All yours.
You ate together whenever he requested. You watched him carve into wood and were gifted the figures he created. You joined him as he forged weapons for his sons, watched how much care and love he poured into them, and how proud he was when they came out perfect.
You became so present in his life that you began to visit his chambers late at night. Soft touches, soft whispers, gentle hands. It all became more and more personal, more intense.
One night, after your usual visit, Vulkan begged you to stay with him. He wanted you close, wanted to make sure you rested well. You agreed and made yourself comfortable in his bed, in his arms. He groaned as you placed your head on his chest and took in his scent. There was something oddly unnatural to him, and yet he smelled human. Smokey, metallic, but with an amber scent.
You whispered to him, asking him what he would like to dream of. He smiled down at you and told you he didn't dream.
"Everyone dreams, Vulkan. Even gods." You whispered. You thought he didn't hear you at first, deciding to ignore you and just close his eyes.
"If that's the case, I wish to dream of a life with you, lived out in the vast beauty of a land fertile and clear of malice. Somewhere where you and my sons can all be free from the burdens this world has given you." He responded.
"And you? Are you free of burdens there too?" You asked.
"My only burden would be loving you, but that's no burden at all." He kissed the top of your head before wrapping his arms around you. Same and warm. You lay on top of your dragon.
