Veni Vidi Amavi
Pairing: Doom slayer x Reader
Reader type: gender neutral
Song:
Warnings:
An:
It was. Until I met you. Part 3
"There are times when I am convinced, I am unfit for any human relationship."
-Franz Kafka, From letters to Felice
You still don't know his name. His real name. You don't know much about him outside of what he has shown you.
Small collectable figurines littering his shelfs. Books upon books spilling off the shelves and onto the floor next to an old chair. You smiled at the old, outdated computer when he had shown you. From that computer you played the first game you had in a long time.
You learned that he was very intelligent. He could build things. The guns he has mounted on the walls. His suit. Most of the machinery around here was either built by him or fixed by him. He was also a bit of a nerd if all the comics were to go by.
It warmed something in you that he so readily let you use all of it. Read the books. Play his games. He let you hold and look over the figurines. You wondered if he made them to. From the way they move to the detailed paint and shading they held.
You wish you could tell him about you. What you like. What you know.
But it's hard. First because you had nothing of your old hobbies or if you still had the skill to do them after not having them for so long. And because he had yet to come back after a week.
He left through that strange portal of his. The disembodied voice of an AI you learned to be Vega.
Your cheeks warm at the thought of him. Nearly after a week of being here the AI finally showed itself.
You had been alone in the room he had given you. Laying on the too large bed filled with strange furs and fabrics to keep you warm. It was defiantly the softest bed you ever slept on. And like any normal person who was all alone, you were talking to yourself. Trying to figure out if he would let you bring a few of his books in here to read.
Then the voice answered you.
"The Slayer has many books. He is not concerned on whether or not you borrow them. He only cares if you bring them back when you are done."
You had never screamed so loudly in your life before.
Not when you found that spider in your shower while you were shampooing your hair.
Not when your cousin hid that snake in your bed.
Not even when you thought the coats hanging on your door was another person coming to rob you in the middle of the night.
That had terrified you. Some ingrained instinct in your body yelling at you about danger. To find out where the voice was coming from. That the demons and monsters were coming for you. Your heart pounded in your chest. Your breathing rapid and uneven.
Then he came through your doors. Gun in hand. Head swiveling back and forward to find whatever had made you scream. When he saw nothing, he looked to you. Poised to jump off the bed. Face colored with embarrassment.
"My apologies. I didn't mean to frighten you." The man you now knew had the name, Slayer, began shaking his shoulders. Soft subtle movements you didn't quit catch.
Was. Was he laughing at you?
You let out a huff of air in frustration. Then threw a pillow at him that he casually smacked away.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Do you find this funny?" A laugh caught in your own throat.
A sharp nod. You throw another pillow at him. Laughing for the first time in a while. Something warm growing in your chest.
He cared.
He cared enough to come to you when he thought you were in trouble.
But that was nearly a week ago. He left through that swirling portal. He didn't say a word. He barely said anything when he left. Just placed a large hand on your head. Then stepped through.
And here you sat. On one of the few chairs there was. Curled up beneath a blanket with one of his many well worn books.
The words dance across the page as your eyes grow heavier. It has to be night. Or some semblance of it. It was eternally night if you looked out the window. Deep space littered with white and yellow stars.
You yawned. Eyes pricking with tears as you laid the book on your lap. You rub at your eyes. Yawn again. Blearily you look to your left. Blue light against a black screen.
2:34 am.
Was it really two in the morning? You rolled your head popping your neck. It sure as hell felt like it.
"You should go rest, y/n." You jump slightly. Still not used to the disembodied voice. You look to the floor. Then up at the ceiling.
"When is he gonna come back Vega?" It's silent.
"The Slayer is safe. Nothing can harm him." Vega responds.
You hug your arms to your chest.
"Nothing can harm him. Yet." You add. You place the book off to the side. Eyes gazing where the portal resides.
"There is no yet. The Slayer is capable of handling anything thrown at him." You can't help it when your stomach turns. When your face feels drained of warmth.
How is he so sure he won't get hurt? Sure he's big and most likely a force to be reckoned with by size alone.
But.
You rub at your eyes again. Yawn. Your body telling you to go rest. Screaming it.
Tired. So tired.
Had he been there. With the cultists? That green. The suit.
Vaguely you remember something taking off the cuffs. To tired and worn to really make sense of everything.
Blood loss. Dehydrated. Starving.
God. He really saved you. Didn't he?
Your Stomach turns at the thought. You owed him so much. He brought you here. Fed you. Clothed you. Gave you home and shelter in what is probably the safest place in the solar system.
Here. In the Slayers home.
Your thoughts flicker and go. Both uneasy and comforted at the same time.
Slowly. The book falls from your hand and to your lap. Sounds soften around you. Warmth crawls over you as sleep begins to pull you in. Heavy comfort pushing you into the chair as your chin falls to your chest.
A soft sigh.
The the thumping of the book as it falls to the ground.
The portal opened. Just as quickly as you had begun to fall asleep you were awake. The tiredness falling back somewhere. Able to ignore but still there.
The Slayer stepped forward. Something large and heavy in one hand. Shotgun in the other.
He leans it against the console. Puts the object on the floor. The portal closes as he notices you. Eyes glossy and face flushed.
He tilts his head. Had you. Did you stay up for him?
Something warms in his chest. Foreign in it's intensity. What was this ? This feeling. Some lost relic of his past. A fleeting memory.
"Are you okay? Did you get hurt?"
When did you get in front of him?
He lets you look over him. Curious fingers gliding over dent and ding in his armor. Taking notes of the worried look on your face. The furrow of your brow. The tip of your tongue between your lips.
His hand moves. Two fingers hooking beneath your chin. Thumb just below your lip.
Warmth flood your face.
He nods. Drops his hand.
Gives you a thumbs up.
"All good." It says. "Safe and sound." He wants to tell you. All while that feeling in his chest wanting to crawl out.
He'd be damned if he remembered what it was. What it meant.
For now he had his suit to repair and a sentinel battery to plug in. It would open a better section for weapon repairs. He needed it.
Wanted it. Really.
He let you follow him. Showed you how to put the battery in.
You huffed when he laughed at you. Watching as you struggled to lift it up.
"Oh. Im sorry I don't have hulk like strength." Despite what seemed like irritation you were laughing. A smile curving your lips.
He liked that. The sound. The flowing look in your face.
Not the crying. Not that look when he saw you there. On the table. The cultists all around you.
Your nose scrunched.
"You need a bath." The Slayer pointed a finger at himself. "Yes you. You smell like metal and death." He watched as you reached a hand out. Plucked something of his armor. Then immediately drop it.
"I'm pretty sure that was a chunk of demon." Maybe. He did cause that explosion.
And ripped that demon.
Among other things.
You pushed against him. He didn't even sway. Just looked down at you.
"Well? Get going that suit isn't gonna clean itself. Or at all if your not even a person I there." That would explain why he never talked. Nothing outside of grunts and the occasional hmm.
He took one step towards the door. Stopped. Looked to you.
You waved your hand.
"C'mon! Let's go. I don't even remember it smelling that bad when I was on Earth." Geeze. That felt weird to say.
You followed him to a pool like area. It was one of the first things he showed you.
That "pool" was actually a giant bath. A lot of stuff here was big. A lot bigger than you were used to.
The Slayer went to one side of the room you to the other.
You spoke as you looked for wash cloths and soap. Turning your back to him as you did so.
"If you give me a moment I can help you clean the suit. I'd imagine it'd be pretty hard to clean your back without help." You paused. "Not without taking it off anyways."
You got the wash cloths. Pulled a stool closer to you so you could reach the soaps and a bowl to have clean water in.
You heard rustling behind you. The clanging of metal and rubbing of fabric. You turned.
"What are you doing over." You paused. "There."
The top half of his armor was off. As well as what you assumed to be a shirt of some sort on the floor.
Bare skin. Pale. Old and new scars raised against his skin. Bruising along his skin.
Your heart pitter pattered in your chest. You fumble with the bowl.
The suit came off. Oh God it came off.
Trying to ignore the shyness bubbling inside you you went up to him. A hairs breath away as you filled the bowl up.
From the corner of your eye you saw him dropping more pieces of amour away.
You prayed to whatever God would listen that he would keep his pants on. Or whatever he wore as pants beneath that thing.
He sat on a stool. Reached past you and pulled a rag from your shaking hands.
He motioned to his suit. Then to you. Tilted his head. Bits if his hair stick up from when he took the helmet off.
More scars. On his lips. His cheeks. There was even a small piece of his ear missing. Like someone messed up while piercing it.
You sat on the floor. Pulled a piece of amour towards you. You assumed this one went on his arm.
The two of you worked in silence. Ever so often he let out a huff of air while looking at a dent or scratch.
Your hands where pruning as you neared the end. Rubbing a sudsy cloths over his metal boots. Scrapping off mud and whatever else.
You heard him yawn. Looking over just as he stretched. Arms high over head as he arches his back.
You felt your breath stutter as you watched the push and pull of his muscles.
You already thought he was big. But damn. This.
Before you knew it he was done. His eyes looking into yours.
You ears burn and you begin cleaning an already very clean boot.
He stood. Crouched down beside you and pulled the cloth from your hand before bringing you to your feet.
He lead you out the door and back to your room.
You take a couple steps in. Turn back to face him. He was looking at you. With some sort of loom in his eyes.
His face shadowed heavily from the low light of your lamp.
You saw something then. Something you yet had a name for. It was something that made the Slayer. It was a thing you'd yet to see.
Something he didn't want you to know.
"Thank you." It came out quickly. Without thought. You swallowed thickly. "Thank you for bringing me here. Helping me." Saving me. You left it unsaid.
"You didn't have to. God knows no one would have known. But. Ya. Just. Just let me know what I can do. Anything. Please." You hit the heals of your hands together. A nervous tick you could never be rid of.
He said nothing. Nodded. The left.
You berated yourself as you crawled into bed. You could have found a better time to thank him. Honestly. Who does that after ogling someone?
.
.
.
The Slayer stood outside the door to your room for some time. Listening to your crawl into bed. Move about before finally settling down.
He wondered if you knew you snored. Or talked softly in your sleep.
He leaned against the wall. Bare skin cooling from the touch.
That look you gave him.
He shook his head. Pushed off against the wall.
He had a suit to fix. That he could do. That feeling he had? The one that waned and pulled. That was different. Something he wasn't used to. You were the source of it. That much he knew.
The Slayer had forgotten what it was like. The touch of another. Something soft and sweet. The gentle brushing and cats that you alone held.
He began to crave it. Yearn for it.
It's been so long.
So long since it wasn't just violence. Hurt. Pain. Blood. The burning. He really hated the burning.
Not with you though. You lit a flame like nothing else. Like candle light in a dark room.
