I originally wanted to make something cute out of this request but I’m in a nefarious mood so it turned out way angstier than I originally intended.
TW: Implied character death
This wasn’t how it was supposed to end.
They’d taken him off guard, a simple search and destroy mission had gone horribly wrong. A trap had been laid to attract the Slayers' insatiable bloodlust by the remaining hell priest in one of the smaller gore nests situated in the center of France.
A trap that worked better than even they had anticipated.
Gripping onto his shotgun he pressed onwards, mauling through seemingly endless hordes of Revenants, Hell Knights and Cacodemons, shrugging off any damage or hits he was taking with increasing difficulty, nothing but pure rage fueling the one man army towards his goal, he could feel its heavy palpitations in the ground, the walls and even in the rotten air as the vibrations pressed against his chestpiece, drowning out even his own heartbeat.
With each heavy hit of the heart's domineering presence as he approached the core of the nest he could feel his own heart weakening, covered in blood and gore he pressed on, not knowing how much of the blood was demon in origin and how much was his own, his Praetor suit was tarnished. Previously stain free, white walls and polished oak floors were all but blackened by the flames of his fury, each hit taken pushing him further over the edge of sanity.
Blasting through the doors with a barrage of rockets he rushed onto the beating heart, violently carving and slashing through the heart until the nest that was keeping the remaining structure intact started to collapse in on itself, tortured cries of pain ringing against the cramped confines of the heart chamber with each cut. Were they his or were they theirs?
Had VEGA not alerted him of the impending destruction of the nest he surely would have been buried under the metric tonnes of rubble and flesh that were soon about to fall. Mustering what little energy he had left he staggered to safety, to his home, to you. Holding a tense breath he finally reached the exit portal his A.I guardian provided.
Having received updates from VEGA you knew what you were about to see was bad, but you could only stare in disbelief as the Slayer, the man you thought invincible stumbled through the obsidian and sapphire portal, ripping off his helmet while heaving for a breath of fresh air, knees hitting the wooden floor of the Night Sentinel command station hard and without grace.
You and VEGA got to work on Flynn immediately, VEGA’s sleek robotic frame was surprisingly strong as both you and he supported most of Flynns weight in order to move him into the medbay. Blood dripped down his legs and onto the floor without stop in sight, you three were all covered now and it was no guessing game whose blood it was this time, but you couldn’t care less, you had to help.
Stripping him of the damaged suit you could see how deep the cuts and gashes were, a horrified gasp escaping your lips as you frantically pressed onto the wounds to stop, or even just slow down, the blood flow. The terrified expression on your face coupled with your wide, fear filled eyes fixated on the damage done had Flynn reaching for your hand, clenching it tight in his own.
“Look away.” You didn’t flinch, trembling hands pressing onto the wounds as the world around you blended together in a confusing blur.
“Look at me.” Clutching your hand stronger you snapped out of it, your eyes fixating on his, those warm, gentle eyes that looked at you with such adoration and love each time he returned to safety, to your home, to your embrace.
“Please don’t go.” Croaking out a meek plea to your love he offered but a weak smile in return, his complexion growing increasingly pale and colder by the minute.
“You have to leave.” VEGA did not make a suggestion, or a request, he commanded. Each passing second was decreasing the chances of survival exponentially.
Placing a kiss against Flynns lips you uttered those words none of you had yet to say out loud.
“I love you.”
But sometimes you don’t have a say in the matter.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
âś“ Live Streamingâś“ Interactive Chatâś“ Private Showsâś“ HD Qualityâś“ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I don't really have anything specific but if you could can you right one with "I have a headache" for either Marauder or doomguy on a caring/sweet reader? ((Some real simping hoursđź‘€))
I tried to keep it short but sweet for you, anon. I hope you enjoy some care time with the main simp ❤ 🥰
Yet another annoyed growl resonated from his throat and you peeked up from behind your book, having ignored him a few times to make sure it wasn’t just the Marauder making his usual thinking hums and grunts while working away over the chiseled stone table, his pauldron required repairs after his last run in with the Slayer, and only he gets to work on his armour.
He was already exasperated after suffering yet another loss to the man he was determined to destroy, in his home city of Taras Nabad no less, but now he had to slave away into the evening repairing his damaged armour as well. It was usually a quite therapeutic activity for him as it required a lot of focus and skill in engineering which he had quite a passion for, but this time you could tell that it might not be just his earlier failure bothering him.
“Are you alright?” Placing the open book down in your lap and leaning forward from your seat you looked at his back as he continued to work, him having chosen to take the whole top part of his armour off while working, usually you would have enjoyed the view, but not when he’s in this kind of mood.
A low snarl was all that was offered in return as his crimson eyes glanced over his shoulder at you, point taken. While turning back, the headhunter mistakenly knocked one of his many tools onto the metal flooring underneath the work station, letting out a loud clatter as it landed, making the Marauder flinch back and let out a hushed string of profanities in Argenta.
“I can see something’s wrong you know...” Putting the text down on the side table you stood carefully and walked to his side, knowing fully well that while he was this agitated he was more prone to lashing out. Sighing while gripping the workbench with clawed hands he remained still, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw shut.
“Talk to me, please?” Your gentle touch caressing his forearm had him loosening his grip on the chiseled slab, if only slightly.
“I have a headache.” Pinching the upper bridge of his “nose” he let out yet another sigh.
Loving hands lightly grabbed on to the others bicep and pulled him away from the table, the headhunter complying with the non verbal request, following you onto one of the seating couches. Having him sit further away from you and giving your thighs a pat, reaching your arms out to help the other put his head in your lap without one of his horns accidentally hurting you, he slowly relaxed into your touch as your hands gently started rubbing circles into the tender flesh at the back of his neck, only adding pressure little by little once you felt the strain against your fingertips fade.
“Time to file down the horns a little perhaps..?” Offering a meek smile that reflected into your tone of voice the headhunter gave a barely noticeable nod, before somehow seemingly sinking further down into your lap as if it was even physically possible.
“No more working on your armour for today, you need to rest that pretty head of yours.”
“Mmnot pretty.” Just barely opening one eye to squint up at you with a mock scowl on his face, you simply smiled back down at him.
“Keep telling yourself that and I’ll go get you a pillo-” A calloused hand reached up over his head and held onto your arm before you could finish your sentence.
