#flynntaggartxreader

[flynnswife]

Holy fuck this is 100% Flynn and I energy I am literally speechless right after reading this😍❤️‍🔥🥵😩

Veni Vidi Amavi Part 9

Pairing: Doom Guy x Reader

Reader type: Gender neutral

Song:

Warnings: Smut. Just. Smut and fluff y'all.

An: So umm. I didn't plan this until a different chapter but it happened anyways lol. So there is smut here. Or lemons. Whatever you want to call it. It's not horribly explicit but still there. I know I can't stop anyone but if you're under 18 I'd appreciate it if you don't comment on that bit of the story. If you do I'll honestly probably just block. I'll mark the start of it with 🐦 and the end with 🐝. And I don't think this story is gonna be much longer. Maybe a chapter or two to finish it up but. Ya. And I plan on making a Halo fanfic as well if anyone is interested lol.

Veni Vidi Amavi

-"Je vous souhaite d'être follement aimée."

-Andrē Breton, Lâmour fou. (Mad loves)

Translation: "My wish is that you may be loved to the point of madness."

"The things you do to me. Oh the things you do to me." The words though uttered. Seems to yell. To scream. To cry out to your very soul.

His eyes on yours. Intense and alluring pull every inch of you to him. His hand leaves yours. Pulls away blankets and rests you on his lap. The ease of it is a reminder of the strength he carries well. His calloused hands follow your thighs. The skin left bare from the lack of clothes.

Your body shivers and burns from his look alone. His touch unravels something inside you bit by bit. Flynn looks to you with reverence. As if you were the holiest thing on Earth.

"How do I begin to tell you." His voice wavered. His head falls to your chest. His hand trails up to your back. Fingers following the line of your spine. He pulls his head back. Cheeks flushed and eyes glossed.

"I thought I had been damned to an eternity of loss and pain. To lose one thing after the other." He pulls your hips flush to his.

"I was scared of losing you." His voice broke. "Scared of losing the one thing that has brought me peace." Your heart aches at this. This seemingly unbreakable man sits before you. Vulnerable and open. Spilling his heart to you.

You press your lips to his. Draw in his breath as if it were the sweetest perfume. Your hands cradle his jaw. A kiss to his lips. Their corners. To his fluttering eyes and the tip of his nose.

"If anything. I was scared of losing you Flynn." Your lips over his. "You deserve the world and more." Another kiss. " There is no mortal plane that can keep me from you." You pull away from him. "If you fall, I will follow. Hell will fear my name. No man nor God will keep me from you."

You find yourself falling. Flynn's arms fall to either side of your head. Obscuring the outside world.

He looks to you. Eyes darting side to side before finally stopping. A simple.

"You mean that?"left his lips. A soft laugh. Your arms around his neck.

"If I didn't. I would have never said it."

A gasp leaves your lips when his finds your neck. A trail of kisses along your jaw. Your neck. To the exposed skin of your collarbone.

A whimper left you when teeth nipped the sensitive skin. You felt his body tense, relaxed, and promptly he nipped you again.

Flynn rose. Kneeling on the bed. His hands smoothed up your thighs and gripped your hips. Where he pulled you close. Your face burned. A noise left your lips as his hips rolled. Your hands cover your mouth. Carefully Flynn pulled your hand away and lent forward to speak in your ear.

"I want to show you what you mean to me. May I?" He leaves a kiss just below your ear. You shiver. Stutter.

"I. I've not. I mean." Your heart pounds in your chest. Your body is screaming with want. A thing you have yet to experience before. This type of heat. Need. Truly. You trusted Flynn with this like no other.

He pulls away quickly. A brief moment of "Did I do something wrong?" Flutters through your thoughts. Flynn's face is the most stern you've seen. A loon that gives you butterflies for all the right reasons.

"We don't have to. Not if you don't want to." A hand splays over your stomach. "I won't think any less of you. And know, I won't do anything you don't want me to."

You knew you chose right in trusting him.

"I've never done. This. Before. I." You pause. "I want to. I just. Don't know how." His face softens. A grin followed it.

"Mhm. That's the best part. I show you. Let me lead. This is for you. Not me." He leans over you. Kisses you. Hellbent of tasting every bit you have to offer.

🐦

He taps the hem of your shirt. Bunched up just below your waist. Still covering what privacy you had. Or what little there was as firmly pressed to him as you were.

"You first." It comes out quickly and without thought. With a mischievous smile and a boyish laugh be obliged. Pulling his shirt away to lay bare before you. To let you watch the push and pull of muscles beneath scared skin. He laughs again.

"My eyes are here." Your face burns. Then. "May I?" He taps the shirt again. Sitting up you allow him to pull it away. Baring almost everything to him.

His eyes darken, a hungry look overtakes them. And he swallowed thickly.

"Oh how I'll devour you." It's growled out as he leans forward. Leaving a trail of pink marks along your skin. To your chest. Taking his time there to make your body arch and hips roll into the air. The sounds and noises you make spurring him towards something. Feeding some sort of insatiable hunger.

He trails downwards. Kissed your hip. Watches as the muscles there twitch of their own accord.

His eyes look at you. Bright beneath dark lashes and a heavy brow. Flynn's body is almost lying flat against the bed. Most of it hanging off until.

A noise leaves you as he moves swiftly. More quickly than your eyes can follow. Flynn is now kneeling on the floor before you. Your legs propped on either shoulder. He presses his lips to the inside of your thigh. Draws close to the place you need him most. Then goes to the other thigh.

He breathes deeply. As if winded. You were no better. Gasping and whimpering. Sounds to fuel him further.

His fingers curl around the band of your underwear. He looks to you.

"May I?" His voice is raspy. And if possible, the deepest it has gone. It rolls over you. Your body shivers. He says nothing. Doesn't move. Waits until you speak.

You nod your head.

He does nothing.

"Yes. Please. Yes." Three words has him moving. Drawing the last article of clothing downwards slowly. Achingly so.

He looks to you as the clothing is disregarded. Tossed into the darkness of the room somewhere. His eyes trail downwards as he pulls your legs over his shoulders once more. Drags you closer by your thighs.

A heavy hand rests just above your navel. Pressed firmly. But gently against you. The other is wound around your upper leg. Trapping you.

You could feel his breath against you. Hot in the coolness of the room.

"Again. Do you want this?" He rasps. You almost cry. Kick a leg against his back.

"Flynn I swear to any god. If you stop now." He laughs.

"Is that a yes?" You cry out in frustration.

"Yes that's a fucking-" You cut off with a keeping cry the moment his mouth is on you. Hot and heavy. The feeling is the most pleasurable thing you have felt in this life. Your legs shake. Part as he licks upwards. Swallows and sucks.

"Flynn. I." Your voice is high and breathy. The air in your lungs catches as you roll your hips. Pulling back and away from this intense feeling.

Flynn pulls you close. Hums against you. You could move nowhere. Do nothing against the intensity he is giving you.

Something is building quickly. Winding tightly within you. Tears form in your eyes. You're speaking now. Babbling mostly. Your rising. Falling. Rising.

"Flynn!" His hand finds yours. Holds it tightly. Shaking and trembling then.

Release.

Fire rolls over you. Heat so hot you feel as if you're burning in the sun.

Slowly you cool down. Flynn is still holding your hand. Your body shakes and trembles. Gasps leaves your lips. Your chest is rising and falling from the rapid breathing.

Flynn rubs your hip with his thumb. Speaking softly.

"I'm here. It's ok. You did good. Really good." He crawls over you. Presses a wet kiss to your neck that has you laughing.

"You still with me?" He asks. You hummed in response. Looked up at him.

The Slayer. Thee Slayer had a lovesick look on his face. Lips curled in a crooked smile. Eyes soft. Filled with nothing but fondness. Love. For you. All for you.

A kiss. Then another. Another. Again and again.

"You taste sweeter than I imagined." You laugh. Swat his bicep.

"Oh you thought about that huh?" He laughed.

"Mhmm. And more. About you. Me. This bed. The wall. " He leaned in close. "Maybe the large window over looking the stars." You flush. His hips roll over yours. Clothes rubbing against the oversensitive skin. He grins again.

"Can I?" He asks. You say yes before the word fully formed as a thought.

Off is his clothes. Swift in motion.

Even out of the amor he is big.

You could feel it press into you. Glide against your skin. Hot and heavy against you.

"Please" You gasp out. "Please." A soft hum.

Your hips are lifted. A pillow is olace beneath them. Flynn guides you close. Presses into you. The first bit has you gasping. Wriggling on the bed. Flynn stops you. Holds you still. Presses further.

Full. Your full.

Above you Flynn is becoming undone. Moans and pants leaving him. Words whispered. Uttered. Into your ear.

"Feel so good."

"Sing for me."

"Sweet. So sweet."

His movements are slow. Pulling. Pushing. Carful not to harm you. Smooth fluid motions. Rocking to and fro.

"Look at that." He uttered. "Taking all of it. So good. Your to good for me."

You could say nothing. Do nothing more than let him move you how he see fit. Your eyes close. Open.

Hand over mouth. Biting your lip.

Flynn growls from above you. Your hands pulled away. Up and over your head. Both of them held in one of his own. The other one your hip.

"None of that. Let me hear you. All of you. Let me hear how good I'm making you feel."

His hips snap and your body jolts. You cry out. Back arching. Legs shaking.

"Fuck." Flynn curses. Swears. "Can't hurt you. Won't hurt you." His hand leave yours. Despite this you can't find it in yourself to move them.

His hand travels downwards. Over your chest. Your stomach. Down until he reaches the most sensitive part of you. Fingers moving deftly. Smoothly.

All of it makes you come undone again.

Flynn follows shortly after. Hips still moving until they stop. Pressed into you as his arm moves under you. Brings you up by your shoulders until he sits back. His head pressed into your neck. His own body shaking as he pulls down from his high.

🐝

He speaks sweetly. Curses. Pulls away from you. Presses a kiss to your lip.

He falls back to where the blanket had bunched up. Still holding you close. His hand in your hair. Trailing down to your back and rubbing soothing circles.

"You did good. So good for me. You know that? " The two of you rest there for what felt like hours. Till the room cooled and chilled your bare skin.

Flynn pulls from you and you shudder. Whimper. "S'alright." He whispers to you. Flynn rises to the bed. Grabs a blanket to wrap around the both of you to keep the chill away as you go out the door and down the hall.

You look down. Giggle.

"What has you laughing?" Flynn asks. A tinge of amusement in his voice.

"I can see your butt." You giggle again. Press your face into the crook of his neck. Breath him in.

You felt his hand smack against your own. Despite the blanket as a barrier it stung a bit. Flynn laughs. Then opens the door to the wash room.

The blanket fall from the both of you.

The water is warm as the two of you sink in. Flynn's arms are wound snugly against you as he sits. The water is up to your shoulders. It hits him at his chest.

Flynn is messing with something around you and you wonder what it is until you feel a cloth touch your back. Cleaning the skin. He does this everywhere. Your back. Legs. Between them. Your stomach. He tosses that cloth and gets a new one when he washes your face.

Soft touches. Decadent almost. As he cleans. Soft swoops along your cheeks. Your jaw. The place right behind your ears.

Throughout it Flynn is muttering praise. Telling you a manner of things. Slowly. Ever slowly you find yourself falling asleep. Your body growing heavy and wearing. Your eyes flutter open and closed.

Sleep one and you fell forward into Flynn. Who said nothing. Just wound his arms around you. Pressed a kiss to heated skin. A mutter of words in a language you did not know.

[i-came-i-saw-i-loved]

Mirror Image

Pairing: N/A

Characters: Y/n. Doom slayer. Demons.

Reader type: Gender neutral

Song: Achilles come down- Gang of Youths

Warnings:

An: It's short lol. I know I don't have a whole lot of readers or anything but I hope y'all are chill if I do oneshots in-between veni vidi amavi lol.

You do not know where you are. What they are doing. But one thing is for certain. The only thing driving you at this point. Fueling every ounce of anger you had for them.

They will pay.

All of them.

.

.

.

He finds you in the midst of a bloodbath. Lips drawn back in a hideous snarl. Animalistic growling coming from deep within your throat

You grin with bloodstained teeth. Arc your axe in the air and pummel it into a demons skull. Your eyes fever bright against your dirtied skin. Hair plastered to your face with blood and mud.

And yet you still charge on. Broken and bloody. Bruised and worn. Still you fight. Scream into the air. Taunting them. Yet no words leave your lips.

The Slayer has seen this before. Lived it.

He has been watching you. Letting you prowl around your sector of Earth. The Slayer could hear your screams. They echoed in his thoughts no matter where he went.

There was a time he was just like that.

Mindless and full of rage. Only one concern within his thoughts.

And yet. You had someone who could help. And the Slayer wanted no one to follow in his steps. Big or small.

The first time you saw him you attacked. Screaming and throwing cursed his way. You hit him with the axe. Sparks of light upon impact.

He sees the way you eyes widen. Bite the inside of your cheek. You draw back. Strike again. Scream.

He knows that you are afraid.

He leaves. Returns again with food. He sees you and makes sure you see him. Leaving food just in the outskirts of your little territory. Your little haven in all this. The place you so desperately kept.

.

.

.

You don't take the food the first time. Convinced that he to is a demon.

Hunger wins the second time. Eyes watching the large man as he walks the line of your space. Gun held in hand.

What is he doing? Was he not one of them? The demons.

The monsters.

.

.

.

The rubble falls and your back into your home. Grabbing the bottle if water and starting off.

The Slayer says nothing. At least you had not attacked him.

The next day he sees you waiting for him. Dancing on the balls of you feet. Head swiveling as you watch out for the demons.

The Slayer purposely knocks over large rubble. Gaining your attention.

.

.

.

You jump. Raise you axe. Let him approach.

"The demons." The words stick in your throat. You grab at him. "The demons are here! They will get us!" You try to pull him with you. If he was a demon he would have hurt you by now. Right?

What demon gives a human food.

The man will not move.

"Go. We need to go!" Your body shakes. You have never been out this long before. Your body was coiled. Ready to strike.

.

.

.

The Slayer hurts at the waver in your voice. The frantic look in your eyes.

They will not come for you. Not while he is here.

The Slayer pulls you behind him.

Hears your frantic please as the demons spill over the edge of the walls. Piled high with cars and rubble.

A desperate action by past survivors. The walls were nothing to them.

"They're here!" Your voice is shrill. High.

Afraid.

Afraid.

Afraid.

The Slayer does the one thing he knows best. Pulls you behind him.

Rids this world of a few more demons.

Mortally Challenge his metal clad ass.

.

.

.

He's fighting them. He's fighting them and winning.

Your axe is nothing against the bigger demons. But the lumbering undead? The one Imp not focused on you? That you could do.

It's all you have been doing.

.

.

.

You curl away at the touch he offers. Body covered in blood and guts. Your axe broken. Lips split and bleeding.

The Slayer offers his hand again. Waits for you touch it. Him.

He is real. The here and now.

No don't look there. Focus on him. Tilts your head to him. Places you hand on his chest.

Breathe. Breathe.

They are gone. They can't hurt you now.

The Slayer guides you to his home.

.

Was this how he was? Before the sentinels. Before Argent du'nur?

On Earth. The demons.

Daisy.

You.

A mirror image of what he once had been.

[i-came-i-saw-i-loved]

It is in you that I have found peace.

Pairing: Doom Slayer x Reader

Reader type: Gender neutral

Song: The oh Hellos- Where is your rider, pale white horse.

Warnings: Smut lol

An: Not a part of Veni Vidi Amavi lol. I don't wanna burn myself out on it so I'm also gonna do some oneshots in between lol. This is also hella short so sorry about that lol.

There is something about the way you carve your hips into his. Back arching as you cry out his name. The sound sweet from your lips.

It is when you drag your nails across his skin he feels the most grounded. Present in the here and now.

He can't help himself as he pulls your lips to his. As abused as they are he wants another taste. To have you as close to him as he could get.

His hands follow the curves in your hips. Slide along your ribs before following the path back down.

His lips are on your neck. Leaving bruising marks and nips. His. You are his in this moment. You have everything he could ever give.

It steals his breath away to look at you. Face flushed and eyes closed. Lashes kissing your cheeks.

He moves his leg. Draps himself over you as your back hits the bed. Pulls your legs over his hips. One hand on your thigh the other braced beside your head.

He loses himself in you. Breathing you in as you exhale. The call of his name leaves him hungry.

Normally it is in fear. In reverence.

From you? It is nothing short of adoration. Full of something soft and sweet. Of yearning and want.

Him. Only for him.

He feels the coil deep within him. Winding tighter and tighter. Begging for release.

He pulls you closer. Breathes your name. He can feel you shudder. Body pulled tight. Like a bow knocked back waiting to be sprug.

Your hands find his. Your babbling now. Uttering nonsense. His name. Pleas for release. To much. Not enough.

You cry out. His name the last thing you speak.

He finds his own shortly after. Body tensing and pulling taunt.

He pulls you close to him. Your head tucked beneath his chin. His hand on your chest finding the steady thrum of you heart.

It tells him that you are here. With him.

He speaks you names. Calls in softly. Pulling you back to him.

It flutters his heart when you pull yourself to press a kiss to his chin. Mumbled words of love and adoration.

He has given you all he has. In it he has found the closest thing he could call peace.

[i-came-i-saw-i-loved]

Veni Vidi Amavi Part 8

Pairing: Doom Guy x Reader

Reader type: Gender neutral

Song:

Warnings:

An: Ok. I know this chapter is short but it's gonna go into the next chapter centering around y/n next lol. Sorry for such a long wait as well. But I promise that I have some good stuff planned for the next few chapters.

I am so scared to speak the words. :Let me show you instead:

"-Tell me, frankly, have you ever loved?

-Let us not touch on old wounds not yet healed."

-Anton Chekhove, from the works of Anton Chekhov; "A Play,"

Flynn was lost in you. It bled into his every waking thought. The sound of your voice. The words carved from your lips a deadly song. He would do anything to hear you speak. It was in your scent. Sweet and tantalizing. It stole his very breath. His lungs yearning to be full of you.

You. You lit his body on fire. Pins and needles along his skin. Electrified his soul.

Flynn craved the taste of you. Your lips on his. To listen to the sweet sounds you made. To be able draw his fingers along your skin once more.

The wrench misses a bolt. Clattered to the floor. The sound barley echoing in the silent room.

Flynn B.J Taggart was a mess. All of it was your fault. Truly it was a problem that wasn't really a problem.

He wonders often if he can tell you. Speak those three simple words that leave him breathless. His tongue heavy in his mouth. It bites his lips. Not wanting to pass them.

If he spoke them it would be all to real. To tangible. To.

To vulnerable.

Flynn has been avoiding you. He knows this. Accepts it. He only reaches out to you during your healing. Futhered along faster due to the medical care within the fortress.

He picks the wrench up. Pushes his chair away from the armor he was repairing. It would be a long process leaving him away from earth for at least two weeks.

Two weeks here with you.

You. He doesn't think you realize that he knows that you are here. The soft pull of breath. The smell of a warm meal. The smooth shuffle of fabric and the clinking of dishes against the table.

The door closes behind you as you leave.

Alone. He was alone.

With a heavy breath he rises from the chair. Stretching stiff muscles and popping joints as he looks to see what you left him.

Spaghetti. A glass of water. The very same meal he gave to you the first day the two of you truly met.

The Slayer eats in silence. Plate held in one hand. Leaning against the table with one ankle crossed over the other.

Halfway through he pauses. Something ears at his chest. A swell and surge of emotions. Flynn finds himself missing you. The soft banter. Your laughter. The curl of your lips as you smile. Just. Talking while the two of you are.

He finds himself yearning for your company.

Suddenly he is no longer hungry.

Something burns him. Familiar and ancient. The company of one kept for so long it might as we be him.

Anger.

At him.

At you.

His emotions and feelings.

His needless and fleeting emotions.

He pauses. No. Not needless. He huffs in frustration an runs his knuckles against his jaw. Stubble scratches his hand.

It is but fair to you. Not fair at all the way he is treating you. Ignoring you. And for what? The fact he is not man enough to admit the way he feels? The fact that he cares so greatly about you he'd sooner allow himself to burn just to see you safe?

Flynn truly never cared for his life. Loss after loss has left him a bitter man. Cold and isolated from a world that fears him. A world he so desperately has tried to save.

You? Oh you were the type of person gods damned themselves for.

You brought out the parts of himself he has since thought lossed. That but of humanity that reminded him what he is fighting for.

Not of anger. Of pain. Of loss and ruin. Flynn has been fighting for the life he lossed. The one he refused to let go.

The human part.

The loving part.

The hallowed and revered.

The one thing demons could truly never be rid of.

Could you forgive him? He wondered. The way he ignored you. Fell back to his wordless self.

It didn't feel right. Pulling back on that part of himself. It was uncomfortable. Like wearing clothes two sizes to small.

Flynn closes his eyes. Thinks of you. Of the way you tried to pull him back.

You back was bared to him. A pillow held to your chest as you sat cross legged in front of him. His fingers skimmed over your skin. Placing a cream not so necessarily needed at this point. The skin pink and tender. Healing.

Just an excuse to touch you. Watching as your muscles pushed and pulled. Felt the shivers run down your back.

"I tried a new recipe. Vega said you made it often. I figured you might like it?" A pause. "There's a book, Of Fallen Stars, in your collection. I was wondering if you read it yet? It looked pretty new." Flynn said nothing.

Guilt burned him when he saw your shoulders fall.

Somehow it felt like one of his greatest failures yet.

He was pulled from his thoughts when Vega spoke.

"Y/n has fallen asleep. I suggest bringing them to their room. They are currently in the recreation room." Flynn sighed. Both cursed and thanked the A.I for giving him the excuse to go see you.

Flynn pushed himself off the table and began the short treck down the hall.

He paused in the doorway. Leaned against the threshold. A soft smile pulling at his lips. Warmth in his chest as he caught sight of you.

You were on the couch. Legs pulled towards your chest with crackers pressed to your cheek. The Slayer gave a quiet laugh. Stepped to you quietly so he did not wake you.

He stopped. Crouched down beside you. Flynn traced the features of your face. Rested his hand in your cheek.

He looked away. Down to the floor. A heavy breath. Then back to you.

"The things you do to me." He rumbles. "Do you know?" He shakes his head. You do not. The everlasting effected that you have on him. The one that makes him yearn for you so desperately. The one he has been ignoring for weeks now.

He wanted to give you a choice. To know if you truly wanted him. Despite the kiss. Despite the words you gave him. Ones that you would always care. That you were not afraid of him.

That you would stay.

Some part of him. Some cruel part of him gave way to fear. Told him that you didn't mean it. That everything he has now would be taken from him. That you would be taken from him.

Flynn gathers you in his arms. One beneath your knees and the other across your shoulders. It's nothing to him to lift you. One of the few times he was truly thankful for his strength. For what they did to him.

It would keep you safe.

He glanced down at you. Gave a low chuckle when he noticed you had stolen one of his shirts.

Your head shifted as you pressed your cheek into his chest. A soft mutter of words leave your lips. Flynn says nothing. Chalks it up to aimless sleep taking. Truly he thinks nothing of it until he sets you down onto your bed.

Your eyes open blearily. Still glossed with sleep. Almost said as you look to him.

"I'm sorry." Came the words. Broken on your tongue. Flynn shakes his head. Confused. Sorry?

"Rest. Y/n. There's nothing to be sorry for." You sigh. Rub at your eye.

"But you're mad at me." Flynn chokes. Uttered a curse.

"I'm not. Why. Why would I?" You sit up. Sleeve falling as you did so.

"Flynn you've been avoiding me. I. Did I do something wrong? Please I." He stops you then. 

"Y/n." It comes out in a breath of air. "I'm not. You've done nothing." You looked to him. Eyes wide.

"Then why? Flynn." He looks away. Those three words stick in his throat. Your hand on his jaw guides him back. "Please?" He falls into your hand. His own comes up to cover it. A kiss to your palm.

"It has been a long time. Since I have cared for someone. " He pulls your hand away. Keeps his hold. Using it to ground himself.

His stomach turns. His heart pitters in his chest.  His eyes find yours.

"The things you do to me. Oh the things you do to me."

[flynnswife]

OH MY GOSH I AM BLUSHING🤭😍❤️‍🔥

Oh, Flynn, my beloved omg😩😍💗I feel all the same for you~❣️I am so damn lost in you too❤️‍🔥

Veni Vidi Amavi Part 8

Pairing: Doom Slayer x Reader

Reader type: Gender neutral

Song:

Warnings:

An: Not a full chapter! Sorry about that and for how longs it's taking me to put these out! But here's a sneak peak into this chapter!

I am to scared to speak the words. :Let me show you instead.:

Flynn was lost in you. It bled into his every waking thought. The sound of your voice. The words carved from your lips a deadly song. He would do anything to hear you speak. It was in your scent. Sweet and tantalizing. It stole his very breath. His lungs yearning to be full of you.

You. You lit his body on fire. Pins and needles along his skin. Electrified his soul.

Flynn craved the taste of you. Your lips on his. To listen to the sweet sounds you made. To be able draw his fingers along your skin once more.

The wrench misses a bolt. Clattered to the floor. The sound barley echoing in the silent room.

Flynn B.J Taggart was a mess. All of it was your fault. Truly it was a problem that wasn't really a problem.

[i-came-i-saw-i-loved]

Veni Vidi Amavi

Pairing: Doom Slayer x Reader

Reader type: gender neutral

Song:

Warnings:

An:

The cultist and The Sacrifice. Part 1.

"I am fragile and unholy. Open. Ravage. Eat."

- Tanaka Mhishi, Literary Sexts II (via ghost tearz)

Ash clung to your sweat-soaked skin. It filled your lungs. You were bathed in it. Watching as it fell from the sky like off colored snow. It silenced the world around you. No longer could you hear the cries of fellow humans. The laughing call of the demons.

All you were, was here and now.

The shackles digging into the flesh of your wrists. Ankles.

You breathe in more hot air. It dries out your already cracking and raw throat. Your lips were chapped and split. Your tongue thick and heavy in your mouth.

You were a fool to have come here. Or at least to have traveled alone. To one of the few habitable places on earth.

The Cultists had gotten you. The deranged group had gotten you late at night when you so foolishly slept.

The Sacrifice. They called you. The fucking sacrifice. They pulled your dirty clothes off and dressed you in a white long shirt. The hem brushing your knees.

They painted symbols into your skin. The paint sticky and burning to your sensitive skin.

The Sacrifice. They called you as they shackled you to what is now going to be your death bed.

The Sacrifice. So that the demons may leave them be. May save them from an eternity in hell.

You cried the first night. Drew blood as you pulled against the shackles. Desperately trying to pull at least one hand free.

The second night they came. The cult leader coming to check on you. To oh so sweetly brush your hair from your eyes. To assure you that this was for the greater good.

You bit his hand when it came near your mouth. Warm blood spilling and coating your lips. Your tongue. You gagged an sputtered and received a harsh smack across your face. One that made your ears ring and your lips to split.

The third night you called out for help.

From anyone.

A fellow human.

One of the demons just to put you out of your misery.

Or maybe your mother. Dead as she may be now.

The forth night. Here and now. You felt your body failing you.

Your breathing grew shallower.

You hadn't eaten or even drank anything when the Cultists had found you. Your body already weak and tired. And now?

All you wanted to do was watch the stars from the hole in the roof. Pretend that the falling ash was snow. Pretend that the ever-present heat was nothing more than a warm summer afternoon.

You were tired. Ready to rest. Give relief to your aching body.

Footsteps sounded to the right of you. Multiple.

You felt a clammy hand press to your forehead. You closed your eyes. Imagined your mother.

"They are still alive." A voice sounded above you.

"Amazing." Said another. "The will in this one is strong." The hand left. Metal sang against metal.

"We do not need strong wills. We need a sacrifice. Why have the demons not come yet to claim them? Were we wrong? Did we choose wrong?" Your eyes fluttered. Breath stolen as you caught a flash of stars in the parting of smog and clouds.

Here one moment and gone the next.

"We did not choose wrong. We have yet to choose wrong. Maybe they require blood this time around? The demon seemed displeased by our last sacrifice."

More talking that you tune out. Eyes trained to the world above. Wishing to see the stars once more. You were going to die here. You knew that now. Excepted it. You've tried. You've lived long on your now apocalyptic planet.

Death would be a welcome reprieve.

Movement from above made you tilt your head.

A glint of metal.

A flash of green.

The sound of screaming.

The Cultists around you came to life. Moving to shove broken shelves and tables in front of the doors. To the window.

"He is here!" One of them cried out. Almost wailing. Who was he? A person? The demon they were talking about?

It didn't matter. You moved your head back to the ceiling. Staring at the hole in the roof.

A face flooded your vision. Stringy brown hair surrounded them. Wide blown pupils turned their already dark eyes almost black. Lips pale and cracked.

They had a home once.

A family.

Is this why they were the way they are now? Because they lost them. Because they were desperate to find some sort of control in the new world?

It didn't matter. All you knew was what you saw. And what you saw was a mad man desperate to keep death at bay.

He had metal in his hand. His nails were dark and grimy. Filthy against the silver of the blade.

It shimmered in the dim light of the candles. Almost pretty if it wasn't going to be the cause of your death.

He held it high. Arced it into the air before it began its decent.

Blood splattered all over you. Hot and sticky as it clung to your once white shirt.

It wasn't yours though.

The man coughed and sputtered. Almost black blood frothing at his lips. His clothes bathed in it as he lurched forward.

He hit the table you were in then collapsed to the floor.

The shelves in front of the door had flown across the floor. One by one the Cultists fell. Bathed in red and yellow candlelight.

Booming shots made your ears ring. Rattled your teeth in your head.

As suddenly as it started it stopped. Silence.

Something pressed against your cheek. Once. Twice. You turned your head. Green.

God that was a lot of green.

You followed the green upwards and saw a helmeted head on top a very large body. Their frame heavy and immense.

Their metal finger pressed to your cheek again. So soft you barley felt it. It traveled up your cheek. To your temple. To the split skin on your brow and brushed loose hair from your forehead.

A deep rumbling hum sounded from the chest of the being.

And he left.

Turned on heel.

And left.

You wanted to cry then. Almost began willing your body to.

You wanted. Needed. Someone. Anyone.

Time passed. At least you think it did. Having dozed off only to be woken by the jerking of your leg.

The green metal man was back.

And he was breaking your shackles with nothing more than his hands.

He pulled your hand into the palm of his own.

Never had you felt so small before. From the heel of your hand to the tips of your fingers. Barely. Just barely did they fall over the side of his own.

The shackle broke.

He pulled the sleeve down. Hovered his fingers over your raw and bloodied skin. Then broke the other shackle.

.

.

.

The Slayer had no idea what he was doing. Why he was doing this.

He questioned himself again and again as he drew this person into his arms. One arm propping them up. The other holding a bottle of water to their lips.

It took then longer than he wanted for them to recognize the water bottle.

Just how long had they been here for?

Why did he care?

They drank greedily. Hands coming up to rest on his one like a newborn child. They whimpered as he drew it away.

Didn't they realize they couldn't drink that quickly? Everything would come back up and they would be in a worse state than before.

And that's how he stood for the next few minutes. Maybe an hour. Holding them in his arm. Giving them water.

His eyes traced over their features.

To their lips and glossy eyes. To the too thin figure of their frame. The dirt and grime covering them.

The powerful grip on his hand despite the sorry state they were in.

And in a moment of humanity.

He took them with him.

Brought them back through the portal and to his, sort of, home.

They were resting on him. Having fallen asleep in the sort time between here and there.

He hoped he wouldn't regret this.

He took them to his room. Placed them on his bed as he stripped from his armor before bringing them to the bathroom.

Filling the large tub like flooring with warm water.

He undressed them. Gently pulling away fabric stuck to old wounds.

Not once did they stir as he washed them. Their hair. Not even scrunching their nose as he washed their face.

He placed them into one of his few shirts after they were dry. The fabric to large on their body.

He saw one to many protruding ribs. The hip bones peeking through their skin.

Food. They needed food after they woke. But first.

He followed Vega's instructions on giving them an IV. On bandaging their many wounds. On easing the bruises.

He covered your body with a blanket. It could get cold here. And while he barely felt it anymore, he could already see the goosebumps covering your arms.

The Slayer sat there for a moment. Your chest rises and fall as you breathed. He brought his hand up again. This time without his gauntlet. And brushed his fingers over your cheek.

Fire spilled over his fingers. Jolted up his arm.

The first time he's been this close to another since. Since.

He sighed. Got up. Adjusted the blanket. And left to wait for you to wake up.

Something turned in the pits of his stomach since meeting you.

And the Slayer was determined to figure out what it was and why you caused it.

[i-came-i-saw-i-loved]

Veni Vidi Amavi

Pairing: Doom Slayer x Reader

Reader type: gender neutral

Song:

Warnings:

An:

How easy it is to forget the touch of another. Part 2.

"You don't get to die and be reborn the same. You come back, but you come back wrong. This is the price you pay for resurrection."

Nathaniel Orion G. K. (via nathanielorion)

It is bright when you wake. Artificial light blinding you when you first woke. 

That was almost an hour ago. 

You didn't know what to do. Where you were. Dressed in strange clothes. Far too large on your frame. Some faint scent clinging to them. Like rain in the distance.  

Cold. God you were cold. The blanket that you were left with doing little to keep it out. Whoever this person was. Maybe they are not bad. Not like.

Not like them.

Your wounds were bandaged and cared for. The bandages fresh and new. Your body was clean. Which both raised your spirits and made your stomach turn. Who is to say nothing happened? That. 

You closed your eyes and drew in a shuddering breath. 

No. Not going there. Not now.

Instead, you sit up. Cold air attacking bare skin the moment the blanket falls into your lap. You gather the fabric around your shoulders and dangle your legs over the bed you were sitting on. And, for the first time since waking up, actually looking around the room you were in. 

Strange and foreign machinery surrounded you. Blue-grey walls and floors giving the place a dismal feeling. 

To the right of the bed, near where your head had been, laid a mess of bandages and creams. Including various pink tinted rags and a bowl of water. 

Someone was caring for you. Why?

And what did they expect in return?

You worried your lip between your teeth. Pulled your arms tighter around yourself. You felt ill. Stomach turning against itself. When was the last time you ate? How long have you been here?

You jumped when you heard noise to the left of you. Coming from the foot of the bed. 

A noise left you before you could take it back.

A door had opened. 

It was them.

Slowly, they came in. Steps near silent despite their size. The suit of metal they were wearing. Carefully they rounded the bed you were sitting on. Stopping about a foot in front of you. 

Not once had you met someone of their size. Their stature. You don't think the demons counted. Mutated and monstrous. Or the vids of the robot man you've seen. 

The air seemed to still. The helmeted visor solely on you. They stepped forward. Waited. Then stepped again. Not stopping till their stomach brushed your bare knees. 

They placed something next to you. A soft looking bundle of clothes and more bandages. 

Thier hand brushed your arm when you weren't looking, and you jumped. Looking quickly back to the visor. Thier hand instead hovered over your arm. A deep hum emanating from them. Him?

Him.

The helmet looked down. You hand to crane you neck to look up at him. Slowly you brought your own shaking hand upwards. Almost pulling back when it neared his helmet.

Eyes. You could make out his eyes behind the visor. 

Your fingers brushed against the metal. Warm to the touch. You traced over nicks and small dents. 

His hand came up to yours. Softly wrapping around yours. He held it there for a moment. A blink. A breath of air. He brushed a thumb across your wrist. The snow-white bandages around it. Exhale. He brought your hand to your lap before going back to your arm. Lifting the loose fabric.

He was here to change your bandages? And he did. One after the other. Inspecting them for any sign of infection.  To your wrists. Ankles.  He paused at the one on your thigh. Waiting for any sign you wanted him to stop as he lifted the hem of your shirt. Balling the fabric near your hip.

He was trying to keep you covered.

Something in you relaxed. You had not noticed until the muscles in your shoulders untensed. 

You held the shirt in place as he took the soiled bandages off. One hand under your thigh to lift your leg as he did so. 

When he finished, he pulled back. Pulling the blanket over your lap. He looked to the door. Then to you. Then pointed a thick finger at the pile of clothes next to you before leaving through the door he came from.

What? You looked at the clothes. Laid your hands on top of them. A faint warmth came from them.  Did. Did he just clean these?

Not wanting to wait to see if the metal man was going to step back through the door to check on you. You got to changing.

It was just another shirt. Deep blue in color. It looked like a long tunic, like the kind people in old medieval stories would wear. It fell well past your knees. The long sleeves spilling over your hands. You hold your arms up and shaking them. Watching as the sleaves bundle up around your forearms. Grabbing the old shirt, sighing as the sleeves fall back down, you go to the door.

It opens before you could knock. The man turns and looks down at you. His shoulders rise and lower as if he had just taken a deep breath. With nothing else to do you hold the old shirt out to him.

You were not short by any means. Often you were one of the taller ones in most groups of people. But him? Your head barely reached in chest. His arms alone looked like it was the size of one of your thighs. 

Jesus? What does this guy do for a living?

He takes it then turns. Takes a few steps then looks back at you. You tilt your head, and he does the same in turn. The slightest motion of his hand. Does he want you to follow him?

You felt your heart patter in your chest. 

What if all this was a ruse? What if he hurts you?

You ball the fabric of the shirt in your hands. He would have done it by now. 

Or he wouldn't have pulled you out from there. From them.

He was the green armor you saw. He. He helped you.

You take a tentative step forward. Then another. The floor ice cold against your bare feet. He waits until your right behind him before continuing down the hall. 

You can't help but stop and look around every so often. Looking at the carving in the walls or the paintings hanging from them. Your fingers brushing against railings as you descended downstairs. He waited for you each time. Letting you pause for as long as you needed. Watching your every move as you went down the stairs. Maybe waiting for your leg to give out. It shook every time you put your full weight on it.

Before long he brought you in front of another door. You found yourself hoping that you could sit down soon. Your body screaming at you to rest. To eat. To drink. You felt dizzy. Little bits of colorful static taking away the edge of your vison.

And sit you could. 

You almost wanted to laugh.

Here you had been. Scrounging old cans of food from burned down homes and stores. Fighting off strays for scraps of food.

And this giant metal man had a full kitchen.

You stumbled forward when he pressed a hand to your shoulders. Leading you to a tall chair. One you had to lift yourself into. It was a short table with few chairs in the center of the kitchen. Everything else looked like a normal kitchen just. A little bit to the left. And the right. And maybe shaken all about a bit.

That had to be a stove. Maybe that was a sink. It had to be. With the large basin and curving handle.

When you had been figuring out an oven that wasn't an oven. He placed a plate of food in front of you.

You looked at the plate. Then him. 

Was this. For you? You could feel warmth from it. Smell spices. Your mouth watered and your stomach growled.

Loudly.

Your face flushed as you looked down. Spaghetti. You never though you would be excited to see a meal you used to hate seeing. Normally it meant a weeks' worth of leftovers. But now? Now you would give up your left hand and right leg for a single noodle.

You looked back up at him. Faintly you could see his eyes looking from you to the food. Deep and intense. He held something in those eyes. Something you couldn't name. Not yet. 

He took the fork and pressed it into your hands.

And left. Pulled away by some unseen force.

A knot formed in your throat. Your ears ringing in the silence. You swallowed thickly. 

The tears fell. One after the other. Curling past your lashed and down your cheeks. Before briefly clinging to your chin before falling to the table.

This. This.

What did you do to deserve this? Kindness. 

Did he expect something in return? How could he so freely give this away? To you of all people.

You ate. Despite every conflicting feeling you ate. For the first time since all of this happened you were not hungry. No wishing and wanting for more. You ate until you felt uncomfortably full. Stomach yelling and turning against the rich food. 

You sat back in the chair when you were done. Cold metal digging into your back. Knees drawn up to your chest and your arm around your stomach.

Still the tears fell. Softly and one after the other. Your body was heavy. Worn. Your chest ached with some unknown feeling. Leaving you empty. How many other people was left back, out in the open? No food. No nothing. Yet here you were with a full stomach. Clean. New clothes. Or rather, clean shirt.

What did you do to deserve this outside of pure luck? 

And just where were you? Where did he take you?

You jumped when the door opened again. You unfurled yourself. Letting your legs dangle over the edge of the chair. Quickly you wiped away the tears with the sleeve of the shirt. Praying that when he comes closer, he won't notice that you had been crying.

You didn't want to seem ungrateful.

Not when it's somebody of that size. 

Not when you don't know a thing about him. Outside of the fact that he is willing to help you. Feed you. 

When he comes nearer, he grabs your plate.  Making a noise that you can't tell is good or not. He pushes the plate closer to you. Barely half is gone from what he has given you. You say nothing. He pushes it closer. Edging the fork closer to your hand.

"I'm full."

It barely comes out as a whisper. Your stomach turns and the food you just ate threatens to return. Your gaze firm on the plate he is pushing in front of you.

You don't want him to be mad at you. You don't want to seem as if you're taking advantage of him or ungrateful. You just could not eat another forkful. If you did, you would either burst or throw it all back up.

He makes another noise. The plate disappears and so does he.

You don't look up when he comes back. Nor do you look up when his hand presses against the back of your shoulder. Barely do you feel it. 

Yet another noise. Guttural.

"Hmm." A finger hooks your chin and makes you look up. The helmet tilts. He looks to the door then you. Gently he pulls you from the chair and sets you on your feet. A push on your back. He brings you to the door and back down the hallway. 

Where he brings you to takes your breath away. A wide-open room with strange markings and machinery. Things of the like you have never before seen in your life.

What has you taken back the most is the view out the window.

Earth.

Your home.

Or what was left of her. 

From here you can see more ruin and wrought the demons have brought on your home. The fire and brimstone like something plucked straight from the bible. Almost everywhere is decimated in some shape or form. No hope of life. No hope of renewal.

You press your hands to the glass. Strangely warm against your skin. Your legs are weak. Slowly you sink to the ground. Arms wrapped around your body as you kept your gaze on the planet before you. The moon long since gone. The only sign of it is the ring of rubble around the planet. 

Strangely, you cannot find it in yourself to cry. To mourn the loss of your home. Of what once was your life. 

You can see the reflection of the man behind you. Standing strong and proud behind you. 

Why did he show you this? Why did he bring you here? 

Why you at all?

"Thank you." You find yourself saying. The words stick in your throat. More of what you want to say caught. Pulled back. You had no use of words. Didn't know what else you could say. You didn't know what to do. So, you thanked him. For getting you out of there. For saving your life in more ways than one.

He could have left you there on the table that night. He didn't have to do anything. Not a damn thing.

Yet here you were.

Very much alive.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .

The Slayer found himself at a loss. 

What was he going to do with them? 

What was he supposed to do?

Nothing felt right. Every time he thought he was going right he was actually going left. 

It has been far too long since he had the company of another. In any shape or form. It has been a lifetime since he was able to just. Exist, in the presence of another and not have to worry about his wellbeing.

They looked to lost in the med bay. Eyes wide and body drawn in so tightly it was a surprise when they didn't spring loose when he first touched them. 

They looked afraid of him. Of what he could do.

He didn't blame them. 

There has yet to be a moment someone hasn't looked at him like that. Like some frightful being rather than who he was.

And the food.

The barely ate. It worried him. They were small. More so than they should be. Body eating away at itself so that they could live. He didn't want that.

Didn't want that for anyone on Earth. But them. He could do something about that.

They had been crying when he had gotten back. That much he knew. From the way they refused to look at him, the rapid clearing away of tears. The subtle shake in their shoulders. And when he pushed the plate closer to them.

He wished he hadn't. 

Demons he could kill. He could fight. A definitive end for them. An absolute answer.

But that fear that you held in your body.

He had no answer for that. It was the last thing he wanted.

The Slayer was many things. Cruel in not among them.

And in the here and now. Seeing you before the falling Earth. He wanted to give you something to fight for. To show you what he was trying to do. He failed at that. That much he knew. The Slayer had no words to give you in this moment.

But.

"Thank you." Those words. So timid. Quiet. So unlike the person Vega first showed him on the consoles. You had lost your fight. 

The Slayer intended to help you get that back.

[i-came-i-saw-i-loved]

Veni Vidi Amavi

Pairing: Doom Slayer x Reader

Reader type: gender neutral

Song:

Warnings:

An:

You spoke my name like it was holy. Like it was a tangible sense of salvation. Part 4.

"I clung to your hands so that something human might exist in the chaos. "

Hélène Cixous, from Olivier De Serres A Single Passion Two Witnesses," Love Itself: In the Letter Box (Polity Press, 2008)

You were home sitting at the dinner table. The one you having seen since you were a child. You smoothed your hand over the wooden table. It was both warm and cool to the touch.

When did you get here? How did you get here? You traced a finger over your name. Carved into the table when you were eight and just this side of unsupervised.

What happened to the demons? Was it all a nightmare?

But what about him. The Slayer? How does one imagine him?

Someone passed you a bowl of mashed potatoes. The baby blue bowl hot and heavy in your hands. You took the spoon and scooped some out. Dropping a large portion to you plate.

When did those green beans turn to corn? Maybe it was always corn.

You go for more and drop the spoon. Blood spills over your plate. The silver spoon covered in it.

The bowl falls from your grasp. Shatters as it hits the table. Soaks your lap and chest with blood.

You try to tell. To scream. It stick in your throat and claws at your tongue.

Desperation consumes you.

You reach for your father's hand in your panic. It's cold to the touch. You look up. Your body stills. Felling as if you dunked yourself into a pool of ice water.

That was not your father.

An Imps head looks back to you. Beady eyes and sharp toothed grin.

You go to stand. The chair clattering to the floor. The sound stalls your heart.

The Imp claws at your arm. Red rivers stream from your arm.

Pain.

Hurt.

Terror.

A flash of green.

.

You woke drenched in sweat and shivering. Chest heaving with the pounding of your heart. You wear heavy. Laden with lead. Not one part of you wanted to move. Feeling as if your were chained to the bed.

A sob racked through your throat. You felt sick. Shivering and shaking in the bed. A whimper leaves your lips.

You press your hand to your chest. To your lap. Feeling for anything akin to the blood that soaked you.

Nothing but your own sticky skin.

You sit up. Glance about the room. Trying to find something. Anything to help hold the terror at bay. You settle with your pillow. Hold it in your arms close to your chest. You buried your face in it. Body curls in on itself.

Dimly you are aware of your door opening. Soft blue light bathing your room from the hallway. You glance up.

The Slayer, still out of his amour. You shuffle closer to the back of your bed. Your back now flushed with the freezing wall. He stops at the foot of your bed and picks up a blanket you kicked off in your sleep.

Why was he here?

He stops closer. Pauses. Waits then comes to the left of you and sits and the edge of the bed. He's close enough you can feel the heat rolling off his body. You shiver. Suddenly aware of how cold you are.

The Slayer says nothing. Places the blanket next to him. You watch the shifting of his muscles. Moving like water beneath his skin. More so, you see the scars. Crossing and hatching across his back.

Those would have taken a lifetime to gather. Just what has this man been through?

There was a weird t like symbol between his shoulder blades. Like someone had branded him.

Without thinking you move. The pillow still in your grasp as you sit cross legged behind him. Stiling to see if he would move.

He didn't. Instead he grabbed ahold of something wound a round his neck. The metal chain clinking together in the silence of the room.

Slowly. Softly you press a finger to one of the scars in his back. He tensed and you pull away as if struck. He stills. You do it again. Nothing.

If anything he leans into it. Almost moving with you as you travel over them. Feeling raised skin and smooth scaring. You press your palm to the largest one. Streaming from his left shoulder down to his right hip. Vaugly you are aware of it wrapping around. Disappearing into the fabric of his pants.

You say that but the material looks soft. Silky, almost.

"What happened?" Your voice wavers. Catching against another choking sob. Slowly. Every so slowly your body was calming.

Safe.

He felt safe.

In answer he shifts his body towards you. One leg sitting on the bed the other planted firmly to the floor.

He takes your hand into his own. With the other he ghosts his fingers over your wrist. Still discolored and bruised from the cuffs.

But healing. Just as you are.

He looks to you. Envelops your hands in his. Sacred and heavy. Calloused and worn. But sturdy. Strong.

Safe.

"You are strong." His voice catches you off guard. Deep and rolling like thunder in the distance.

Your face burns and you look away. You don't feel very strong. Far from it honestly.

He grunts. Squeezes your hands. The next thing you knew you were being carried. Head resting on his chest as he hooks one arm beneath your knees and the other across your shoulders.

"I. What are you doing?" He says nothing. Still looking forward. You can see the faint hint of stubble on his chin. A small crescent moon scar is in his jaw.

You look around. Begin to notice the familiarity of the hallway you are in. "Are you taking me to the baths?" You say that as it it's not just a giant swimming pool. He responds with another grunt.

The Slayer carries you through the threshold of the door. Gently sets you down on your feet and points to the water.

"Are you telling me to take a bath?" A nod. "Why?" In response he plugs his nose with one hand and waves with the other. "Oh. So now I smell?" A small smile tugs at your lips.

"This is you getting back at me for saying that you stunk huh." He shrugs. Waves his hand in a so so gesture. "Well then. Get out." You push on his back. "Go on." Your giggling now. Trying to push your whole body weight into his.

You hear him laugh. Rolling and deep from his chest. It warms you to know that a man such as he could still find humor in things

"Oh c'mon! You're like, a billion times bigger than me!" He steps forward and you stumble. He turns. Laughs again. You stick your tongue out and for a moment you feel like yourself again. Before all of this. The literal end of the world.

You're happy. Having fun. Like you would with a friend.

You notice he has a goofy smile on his face. Making him appear younger. Less worn and tired.

Less of the weight of the world on his shoulders. And it might as well be. Going back time and again to fight this demons. To try to save earth. You are glad to see it lightened. Even for a moment.

It is then you notice the dog tags resting on his chest.

"You were in the military?" It's out. His face falls. A shielded wall once more. Guilts floods you.

Obviously not a good topic. How had you not notice them before? Did he just now put them on?

"M'sorry. I didn't mean-"

"Marines." He speaks. Soft and low.

You don't say anything. Just watch as he pulls them from around his neck. He shows you the dull and dented metal.

"Flynn B.J Taggart" You speak softly. Revenetly. He was giving you his name.

You snort.

"B.J?" He gently shoved your shoulder. Albeit chuckling himself.

He looks to you. Taps you chest. You smile.

"Y/n. Y/n M/n L/n." You look up through your lashes. Tilt your chin. Watch as he mouths the words.

In the dim lighting you catch the color of his eyes. A soft blue. Like looking up at the summer sky.

"Y/n." He smiles around your name. Speaks it as if it were a prayer. "Y/n." He says it again. You laugh. Smack at his arm.

"You say it anymore and it'll wear out." He grins.

"Y/n." He says it low and deep. Leans down to say it near your ear. A shiver runs through you. "Y/n." He says it again.

Flynn decided that in that moment. He would never tire of your name. Of you. Of that feeling deep in his chest.

And oh. That color darkening your face. And the shy look away you do with your eyes when your nervous.

"Slayer. There has been sighting of demonic activity near the arc base in Illinois. Should I start the portal." Vegas voice rang through the room and you heart all but jumped from your chest.

You coukd have sworn you heard The Slayer. Flynn. Growl.

"Well. I do have to take that bath." You spoke. He fixes you with a look. You look away again. Back up. Give a lopsided smile.

He presses a hand to the top of your head. Brings it down to cup your chin.  Draws his thumb just below your lower lip.

"Stay safe. Please." Before you could lose the courage you press a kiss to his cheek. Turn and leave to go get some clothes.

You were really going to need that bath now.

The Slayer was stunned. Frozen in place. It felt as if fire ran through him. Tingled the tips of his fingers. He touches the place your lips touched. Scruff scratched his fingers.

What did you mean by that? That kiss.

That fire reignited in his chest. That feeling increased ten fold.

He shook his head.

He had a job to go do.

Suiting up was quick and easy. An old habit mostly done my muscle memory at this point.

He stopped in front of the portal shotgun in hand. You words echoed in his thoughts.

"Stay safe. Please."

He thumbed the safety of the gun. Stepped through the portal.

Safe. Whole.

He had something worth coming back to now.

[i-came-i-saw-i-loved]

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.

[i-came-i-saw-i-loved]

Not a chapter but a small playlist for Veni Vidi Amavi. Hope you enjoy!

[i-came-i-saw-i-loved]

Veni Vidi Amavi Part 9

Pairing: Doom Guy x Reader

Reader type: Gender neutral

Song:

Warnings: Smut. Just. Smut and fluff y'all.

An: So umm. I didn't plan this until a different chapter but it happened anyways lol. So there is smut here. Or lemons. Whatever you want to call it. It's not horribly explicit but still there. I know I can't stop anyone but if you're under 18 I'd appreciate it if you don't comment on that bit of the story. If you do I'll honestly probably just block. I'll mark the start of it with 🐦 and the end with 🐝. And I don't think this story is gonna be much longer. Maybe a chapter or two to finish it up but. Ya. And I plan on making a Halo fanfic as well if anyone is interested lol.

Veni Vidi Amavi

-"Je vous souhaite d'être follement aimée."

-Andrē Breton, Lâmour fou. (Mad loves)

Translation: "My wish is that you may be loved to the point of madness."

"The things you do to me. Oh the things you do to me." The words though uttered. Seems to yell. To scream. To cry out to your very soul.

His eyes on yours. Intense and alluring pull every inch of you to him. His hand leaves yours. Pulls away blankets and rests you on his lap. The ease of it is a reminder of the strength he carries well. His calloused hands follow your thighs. The skin left bare from the lack of clothes.

Your body shivers and burns from his look alone. His touch unravels something inside you bit by bit. Flynn looks to you with reverence. As if you were the holiest thing on Earth.

"How do I begin to tell you." His voice wavered. His head falls to your chest. His hand trails up to your back. Fingers following the line of your spine. He pulls his head back. Cheeks flushed and eyes glossed.

"I thought I had been damned to an eternity of loss and pain. To lose one thing after the other." He pulls your hips flush to his.

"I was scared of losing you." His voice broke. "Scared of losing the one thing that has brought me peace." Your heart aches at this. This seemingly unbreakable man sits before you. Vulnerable and open. Spilling his heart to you.

You press your lips to his. Draw in his breath as if it were the sweetest perfume. Your hands cradle his jaw. A kiss to his lips. Their corners. To his fluttering eyes and the tip of his nose.

"If anything. I was scared of losing you Flynn." Your lips over his. "You deserve the world and more." Another kiss. " There is no mortal plane that can keep me from you." You pull away from him. "If you fall, I will follow. Hell will fear my name. No man nor God will keep me from you."

You find yourself falling. Flynn's arms fall to either side of your head. Obscuring the outside world.

He looks to you. Eyes darting side to side before finally stopping. A simple.

"You mean that?"left his lips. A soft laugh. Your arms around his neck.

"If I didn't. I would have never said it."

A gasp leaves your lips when his finds your neck. A trail of kisses along your jaw. Your neck. To the exposed skin of your collarbone.

A whimper left you when teeth nipped the sensitive skin. You felt his body tense, relaxed, and promptly he nipped you again.

Flynn rose. Kneeling on the bed. His hands smoothed up your thighs and gripped your hips. Where he pulled you close. Your face burned. A noise left your lips as his hips rolled. Your hands cover your mouth. Carefully Flynn pulled your hand away and lent forward to speak in your ear.

"I want to show you what you mean to me. May I?" He leaves a kiss just below your ear. You shiver. Stutter.

"I. I've not. I mean." Your heart pounds in your chest. Your body is screaming with want. A thing you have yet to experience before. This type of heat. Need. Truly. You trusted Flynn with this like no other.

He pulls away quickly. A brief moment of "Did I do something wrong?" Flutters through your thoughts. Flynn's face is the most stern you've seen. A loon that gives you butterflies for all the right reasons.

"We don't have to. Not if you don't want to." A hand splays over your stomach. "I won't think any less of you. And know, I won't do anything you don't want me to."

You knew you chose right in trusting him.

"I've never done. This. Before. I." You pause. "I want to. I just. Don't know how." His face softens. A grin followed it.

"Mhm. That's the best part. I show you. Let me lead. This is for you. Not me." He leans over you. Kisses you. Hellbent of tasting every bit you have to offer.

🐦

He taps the hem of your shirt. Bunched up just below your waist. Still covering what privacy you had. Or what little there was as firmly pressed to him as you were.

"You first." It comes out quickly and without thought. With a mischievous smile and a boyish laugh be obliged. Pulling his shirt away to lay bare before you. To let you watch the push and pull of muscles beneath scared skin. He laughs again.

"My eyes are here." Your face burns. Then. "May I?" He taps the shirt again. Sitting up you allow him to pull it away. Baring almost everything to him.

His eyes darken, a hungry look overtakes them. And he swallowed thickly.

"Oh how I'll devour you." It's growled out as he leans forward. Leaving a trail of pink marks along your skin. To your chest. Taking his time there to make your body arch and hips roll into the air. The sounds and noises you make spurring him towards something. Feeding some sort of insatiable hunger.

He trails downwards. Kissed your hip. Watches as the muscles there twitch of their own accord.

His eyes look at you. Bright beneath dark lashes and a heavy brow. Flynn's body is almost lying flat against the bed. Most of it hanging off until.

A noise leaves you as he moves swiftly. More quickly than your eyes can follow. Flynn is now kneeling on the floor before you. Your legs propped on either shoulder. He presses his lips to the inside of your thigh. Draws close to the place you need him most. Then goes to the other thigh.

He breathes deeply. As if winded. You were no better. Gasping and whimpering. Sounds to fuel him further.

His fingers curl around the band of your underwear. He looks to you.

"May I?" His voice is raspy. And if possible, the deepest it has gone. It rolls over you. Your body shivers. He says nothing. Doesn't move. Waits until you speak.

You nod your head.

He does nothing.

"Yes. Please. Yes." Three words has him moving. Drawing the last article of clothing downwards slowly. Achingly so.

He looks to you as the clothing is disregarded. Tossed into the darkness of the room somewhere. His eyes trail downwards as he pulls your legs over his shoulders once more. Drags you closer by your thighs.

A heavy hand rests just above your navel. Pressed firmly. But gently against you. The other is wound around your upper leg. Trapping you.

You could feel his breath against you. Hot in the coolness of the room.

"Again. Do you want this?" He rasps. You almost cry. Kick a leg against his back.

"Flynn I swear to any god. If you stop now." He laughs.

"Is that a yes?" You cry out in frustration.

"Yes that's a fucking-" You cut off with a keeping cry the moment his mouth is on you. Hot and heavy. The feeling is the most pleasurable thing you have felt in this life. Your legs shake. Part as he licks upwards. Swallows and sucks.

"Flynn. I." Your voice is high and breathy. The air in your lungs catches as you roll your hips. Pulling back and away from this intense feeling.

Flynn pulls you close. Hums against you. You could move nowhere. Do nothing against the intensity he is giving you.

Something is building quickly. Winding tightly within you. Tears form in your eyes. You're speaking now. Babbling mostly. Your rising. Falling. Rising.

"Flynn!" His hand finds yours. Holds it tightly. Shaking and trembling then.

Release.

Fire rolls over you. Heat so hot you feel as if you're burning in the sun.

Slowly you cool down. Flynn is still holding your hand. Your body shakes and trembles. Gasps leaves your lips. Your chest is rising and falling from the rapid breathing.

Flynn rubs your hip with his thumb. Speaking softly.

"I'm here. It's ok. You did good. Really good." He crawls over you. Presses a wet kiss to your neck that has you laughing.

"You still with me?" He asks. You hummed in response. Looked up at him.

The Slayer. Thee Slayer had a lovesick look on his face. Lips curled in a crooked smile. Eyes soft. Filled with nothing but fondness. Love. For you. All for you.

A kiss. Then another. Another. Again and again.

"You taste sweeter than I imagined." You laugh. Swat his bicep.

"Oh you thought about that huh?" He laughed.

"Mhmm. And more. About you. Me. This bed. The wall. " He leaned in close. "Maybe the large window over looking the stars." You flush. His hips roll over yours. Clothes rubbing against the oversensitive skin. He grins again.

"Can I?" He asks. You say yes before the word fully formed as a thought.

Off is his clothes. Swift in motion.

Even out of the amor he is big.

You could feel it press into you. Glide against your skin. Hot and heavy against you.

"Please" You gasp out. "Please." A soft hum.

Your hips are lifted. A pillow is olace beneath them. Flynn guides you close. Presses into you. The first bit has you gasping. Wriggling on the bed. Flynn stops you. Holds you still. Presses further.

Full. Your full.

Above you Flynn is becoming undone. Moans and pants leaving him. Words whispered. Uttered. Into your ear.

"Feel so good."

"Sing for me."

"Sweet. So sweet."

His movements are slow. Pulling. Pushing. Carful not to harm you. Smooth fluid motions. Rocking to and fro.

"Look at that." He uttered. "Taking all of it. So good. Your to good for me."

You could say nothing. Do nothing more than let him move you how he see fit. Your eyes close. Open.

Hand over mouth. Biting your lip.

Flynn growls from above you. Your hands pulled away. Up and over your head. Both of them held in one of his own. The other one your hip.

"None of that. Let me hear you. All of you. Let me hear how good I'm making you feel."

His hips snap and your body jolts. You cry out. Back arching. Legs shaking.

"Fuck." Flynn curses. Swears. "Can't hurt you. Won't hurt you." His hand leave yours. Despite this you can't find it in yourself to move them.

His hand travels downwards. Over your chest. Your stomach. Down until he reaches the most sensitive part of you. Fingers moving deftly. Smoothly.

All of it makes you come undone again.

Flynn follows shortly after. Hips still moving until they stop. Pressed into you as his arm moves under you. Brings you up by your shoulders until he sits back. His head pressed into your neck. His own body shaking as he pulls down from his high.

🐝

He speaks sweetly. Curses. Pulls away from you. Presses a kiss to your lip.

He falls back to where the blanket had bunched up. Still holding you close. His hand in your hair. Trailing down to your back and rubbing soothing circles.

"You did good. So good for me. You know that? " The two of you rest there for what felt like hours. Till the room cooled and chilled your bare skin.

Flynn pulls from you and you shudder. Whimper. "S'alright." He whispers to you. Flynn rises to the bed. Grabs a blanket to wrap around the both of you to keep the chill away as you go out the door and down the hall.

You look down. Giggle.

"What has you laughing?" Flynn asks. A tinge of amusement in his voice.

"I can see your butt." You giggle again. Press your face into the crook of his neck. Breath him in.

You felt his hand smack against your own. Despite the blanket as a barrier it stung a bit. Flynn laughs. Then opens the door to the wash room.

The blanket fall from the both of you.

The water is warm as the two of you sink in. Flynn's arms are wound snugly against you as he sits. The water is up to your shoulders. It hits him at his chest.

Flynn is messing with something around you and you wonder what it is until you feel a cloth touch your back. Cleaning the skin. He does this everywhere. Your back. Legs. Between them. Your stomach. He tosses that cloth and gets a new one when he washes your face.

Soft touches. Decadent almost. As he cleans. Soft swoops along your cheeks. Your jaw. The place right behind your ears.

Throughout it Flynn is muttering praise. Telling you a manner of things. Slowly. Ever slowly you find yourself falling asleep. Your body growing heavy and wearing. Your eyes flutter open and closed.

Sleep one and you fell forward into Flynn. Who said nothing. Just wound his arms around you. Pressed a kiss to heated skin. A mutter of words in a language you did not know.

[i-came-i-saw-i-loved]

Veni Vidi Amavi Part 8

Pairing: Doom Slayer x Reader

Reader type: Gender neutral

Song:

Warnings:

An: Not a full chapter! Sorry about that and for how longs it's taking me to put these out! But here's a sneak peak into this chapter!

I am to scared to speak the words. :Let me show you instead.:

Flynn was lost in you. It bled into his every waking thought. The sound of your voice. The words carved from your lips a deadly song. He would do anything to hear you speak. It was in your scent. Sweet and tantalizing. It stole his very breath. His lungs yearning to be full of you.

You. You lit his body on fire. Pins and needles along his skin. Electrified his soul.

Flynn craved the taste of you. Your lips on his. To listen to the sweet sounds you made. To be able draw his fingers along your skin once more.

The wrench misses a bolt. Clattered to the floor. The sound barley echoing in the silent room.

Flynn B.J Taggart was a mess. All of it was your fault. Truly it was a problem that wasn't really a problem.