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thememestrider · 2 days ago

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Inspired by @solspina and their wonderful Dante fics- sis thank you for giving our beautiful depressed angel man the love he deserves, and I hope my fic will be worthy of adding to the library.

"Let Me Take Care of You" - Dante x Reader

Sypnosis: Dante is reeling from wounds he sustained during the Devastation of Baal, both physical and psychological. Thankfully, though, you are there to help pick up the pieces.

Author's Note: I've decided to make the reader a perpetual because I hc that Dante would struggle to fall in love with someone he knew he would outlive (poor man has been thru so much) has no real bearing over the plot of the fic, but thought it was worth noting.

Content Warnings: Angst, reverse hurt/comfort, pre-established relationship, general 40k-ness, descriptions of blood and wounds, lore inaccuracies, Dante is a very tired and traumatised boi, reader is G/N but I wrote them as a female in my mind, I wrote this at midnight while on a plane, so this isn't edited or proofread XD

Across his hundreds of centuries of service, Dante has become many things. To his brothers, he is their stalwart leader; to the people of the Imperium, he is a legend; to the enemies of humanity, he is an angel of death. But to you, he is none of these things. To you, he is your husband. Your beloved. The man you hold most close to your heart. That means that, when he leaves for a mission, where others anticipate victory, you worry for his safety. And, when he finally returns home, you rush to him, not to congratulate him on his victory, but to study him for injury or distress. More often than not, you will find nothing.

Tonight is different.

You're in bed when he arrives, quietly reading a book borrowed from his library. The door slides open with a hiss, and you look up to see your husband standing in the doorway of your shared quarters. His hair falls over his shoulders in thick curtains of black and silver and he's dressed in a red robe that's sinched at his waist. It accentuates the sculpt of his chest and shoulders beautifully, but that is not what draws your eye. Rather, it is the darkness under his soft, hazel eyes, and the way he is hunched slightly over his left side. Without looking away, you shut your book with a snap.

"You're hurt," you say.

Dante smiles tiredly. "It's nothing, my love," he says. Closing the door behind him, he starts towards the bed. Before he reaches it, though, you throw of the covers, climb out of bed, and meet him half way. You kiss him lightly on the lips in greeting, snaking your arms around his waist as you do. "It doesn't look like nothing," you say into his shoulder. "You going to tell me what happened?" As you embrace him, an involuntary sigh escapes Dante's lips. You feel him lean into you, as if all of a sudden, he could not stand without you holding him up. Despite your lingering concern, it makes you smile. You squeeze him a little tighter.

Suddenly Dante's sigh becomes a grimace.

You pull away, throat tightening as your worry returns with a vengeance. "I knew it," you whisper.

"Sweetheart, it's nothing" Dante says again. "I promise, I-"

He winces again, face turning pale. Suddenly he's unsteady on his feet and staggers forwards. You manage to catch him just in time. "Easy, easy. I've got you." A white lie; all that muscle and cybernetic enhancement of his makes Dante unbearably heavy. Already, your entire upper body is shaking trying to keep him upright. Of course, you don't tell him that. Nor to you allow him to see it.

"I'm sorry," Dante says. He sounds breathless. "I... I'm just fatigued, is all."

"No point lying to me now," you murmur. "Come on. Bed. Now."

Dante makes a sound of exasperation, but he doesn't resist. Carefully, you guide him towards your bed, easing him down to sit on its edge. The frame creaks under his weight. Dante winces again as he sits down. One of his hands shoots up to clutch the left side of his chest.

Crouching before him, you touch his cheek with your palm. "Will you let me see?"

Dante doesn't answer right away. For a moment, you're afraid he's about to argue with you. But either he's in too much pain to bother, or he sees the defiance in your eyes and realises it would be futile.

"Left pectoral," he croaks. "Just below my primary heart."

Your own heart falters. That's the same place he had been wounded during the Devastation of Baal- where a tyranid Swarm Lord had sliced him open and left him for dead. With a feather-light touch, you peel open Dante's robe. Slipping it off his shoulders to expose his bare chest.

His muscles are tense, the hollows of his collar bones deepening as he clenches his jaw. It's as you suspected- the gash carved into him by the Swarm Lord has ruptured. The skin around the wound is angry and inflamed. Blood trickles over his chest and down his stomach in thin streams.

Dante sees the look on your face and attempts a smile. "I must've reopened it while in combat," he says. "But I swear, it isn't as bad as it looks."

You give him an unamused look. "No," you answer. "No, I think it's worse."

Dante opens his mouth to retort, but you cut him off. "Don't move. I'll be back in a second." You get to your feet and hurry to the ensuite, gathering up the first aid kit you have reserved for situations such as this. When you return, your husband is leaned forwards and breathing hard. His skin is now the colour of a corpse.

Anxiety climbs up your throat at the sight of him like this, but you swallow it with a gulp. Now is not the time for worry anymore; you have a job to do.

You crouch in front of Dante again and set the first aid kit down beside you. Gently, you bring your hands to his face. "Luis," you whisper. "Luis, look at me."

He lifts his head. His expression is a mix of pain and shame. "I'm alright," he says softly. "Really. I just-" he grimaces. "-I just need a moment."

You struggle to keep your eyes from watering. It breaks your heart to see him like this. You know Dante struggles with the weight of responsibility: as a chapter master, as a lord regent, as a living legend of the Imperium. All these duties- all of which enough to break most men on their own- have no room for weakness or weariness. And the fact that Dante holds himself to a standard nigh impossible to achieve, even for him, only adds to the already crushing weight he has carried for over one thousand years. Carried for so long, he sometimes forgets that when he's with you, he can shed that weight for a time.

Stroking his cheeks with your thumbs, you lean in close until your foreheads kiss. Despite his earlier insistances, Dante melts at the touch. His shoulders sag. The muscles of his chest release. After a moment, he even closes his eyes.

"This wound is old," he suddenly says. "It should have healed weeks ago."

You raise you head so you can meet his gaze. "You haven't given it the chance to; the second you were awake, you were back in the field. You should've been bed ridden for weeks. Throne, you should be bed ridden now."

Dante averts his eyes. "I couldn't." His voice is little more than a murmur. "I can't."

Still cupping his cheeks in both hands, you plant a long, loving kiss on his lips. When you pull away, you say, "You're tired, Luis. You're hurt. And you can't do your job when you're either, let alone both. I know you hate to admit it, but it's the truth."

Dante doesn't reply. His eyes remain firmly on the floor.

"Luis, please look at me." You use his given name rather than that favoured by everyone else. To remind him that you aren't everyone else. That the mask of strength and infallibility he puts on for the rest of the galaxy can come off when he's with you.

Eventually, your husband lifts his gaze. The expression you find there makes you want to drag him into your arms and hold him there forever. It also makes you resent the Imperium and the galaxy as a whole for causing him this much hurt. Fearing you might cry if you didn't, you kiss him again. Longer and more deeply than any time before. Dante returns the kiss in kind, using his free hand to gently grasp your chin and keep you close. You breathe in his scent, feel him do the same. He's the first to pull away, but it's only because another, involuntary grimace suddenly grips him.

"You need to rest now, Luis," you say once he recovers. "You need to rest and you need to heal. Let me take care of you. You deserve it. By the Emperor, if anyone in the world deserves it, it's you."

Dante looks at you with so much affection and gratitude, it makes your heart stammer. Tilting his head, he leans into your palms and closes his eyes again. "I don't know how I managed for so long without you," he whispers.

You plant a kiss on his forehead. "You'll never have to again," you promise.

Eyes still closed, he only nods.

Slowly, as if afraid you might wake him, you reach for the first aid kit and extract a needle, sutures and anti-septic spray. "Right, let's get you stitched up, then. You've bled all over our bed enough already, I think."

Dante huffs out a single, smirking laugh. "Please, my love. Don't kick me while I'm down."

You smile. It falters slightly as you raise your impliments. "Okay, my love. Brace yourself; this might sting a little."

Dante opens one eye. "Trust me," he says ruefully. "It can't hurt anymore than it already does."

A/N: I didn't really know how to end it properly, so sorry if it feels a bit abrupt.

#40k #warhammer 40k #space marine x reader #blood angels #dante #luis dante #dante x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #words can't describe how much I love this man #space marines #space marine husbandry sentience

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