head's empty rn but I just keep going on the rabbit on ur fic
Keep thinking of the fluffy lil one just being a menace to doomguy like absolutely gremlin
Specially in their teenage phase, jumping into the place where he's not allowed to be, causing many mugs to broke cuz it keeps jumping on the table
Stomping when they want attention or a treat (mostly the treat)
And them always trynna eat the damn toilet paper 😭😭😭😭
Also them being an es ape artist i want dg to fall on his ass trying to get the bunny Zxtixyoyooyfoyfoyofygyoogy
Idk i just want doomguy to scold the bunny like a child getting caught stealing candy
DRINK WATERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR PLSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
Hi @miraclecherryblossomsblog!!! Apologies this took so long but here is the adolescent bun causing trouble! (Header made by me, sketch at the end)
Cotton Tails
Doom Slayer x Fem!Reader
TW: None all fluff.
!Disclaimer!: This is a continuation! [Part 1] It's not necessary to read part 1, but it is encouraged!
Word count: 2218
“She’s uh,” The woman stared at the pair laid out on her shared bed, “Gettin’ kinda big. Don’t you think?”
Flynn turned to her, a hand behind his head and the other petting the rabbit laid out across almost the entire span of his torso. He paused for a moment to shrug, hand resuming petting the little one as his companion sighed.
“No, I mean, really big for a rabbit, right? Like, aren’t they only supposed to be,” She motioned with her hands what she thought was the average size of a rabbit, “About yay big?”
He nodded.
“Then why’s she almost as long as your torso?” She motioned to the two exasperatedly. Flynn looked down. His head tilted as he took in said fact. He looked at the rabbit’s face, as though silently asking the same question. He looked back to her after a long, clearly thoughtful moment.
“Big Bunny.”
He knew he was gonna get that look from her. That exaggerated eye roll and loud groan at his answer. Didn’t stop the way his shoulders shook with silent laughter at it though.
“What I mean to say,” His companion spoke as she sat on the edge of the bed, hand reaching over to scratch the spot between the bunny’s ears, “Is that I want to be sure she’s okay. That and she could get into real trouble at a size like that. She doesn’t even fit in her cage anymore.”
The little one had grown healthy, no longer a blind, little runt. Large and extra fluffy with a beautiful brown and white speckled coat that made her easy to spot in the fortress. Usually that and the loud, thumping hops across the wood and metal floors of the fortress. The little one was fond of exploring, especially on her own. She’d sneakily slip away after spending most of the day with Flynn’s companion. Too much silence for too long and that’s when the little one was off causing trouble. More than once VEGA’s voice would suddenly erupt in a tone as close to panic as he could manage to inform her of the little devil’s whereabouts.
“Your rabbit is in the command console and is currently attempting to make a meal of the wiring.” She’d never run so fast in her life to wedge herself in the console’s opening and drag the little one out by the fluff of her butt. Then, then, the little one had the audacity to stomp at her. Spoilt little thing.
Coming back to the present, the woman watched as the not-so-little bun pushed its head against Flynn’s jaw and saw the resulting tiny curl of his lips. It was cute. Very cute. But it was all his fault, wasn’t it?
“Pft,” The woman huffed, “Daddy’s girl, isn’t she?” Flynn’s eyes snapped to her as she spoke, an odd look in them. “You spoil her too much and she gets upset when she gets in trouble,” She said, leaning closer, “And this little one makes so much trouble when you’re gone.”
He grunted, tense body relaxing as he resumed petting the bunny that was slowly sliding up his body to nuzzle against his neck.
“I’m serious! You saw the state of the control center!” He was the one who’d fixed it after all. His brow raised and he nodded in agreement. Then shrugged.
“Just wait, It’s your turn to catch her when VEGA calls,” She leaned over si he had to look her in the eye, “You hear me?”
Flynn huffed with a nod.
Sure the wires were in pretty rough shape when the command center had been infiltrated- He still had no idea how that happened-, but how much trouble could one rabbit cause? Daisy was a sweetheart and he was sure this little one was too.
How wrong he was.
Flynn hadn’t been back at the fortress for an extended period of time as of late, so by the third day of being back, the little one had started disappearing from his side. He didn’t think much of it until,
“Slayer, your rabbit is stuck on the chapel grounds. I recommend rescuing her as it’s almost dinner time.”
He thought VEGA might have been attempting to play a prank on him, if the ai could do that. How the hell did his rabbit get to the Chapel??? Upon donning his suit and parkouring all the way up there, he did indeed find the little one hopping around inside the chapel and giving the remaining wooden pews a nibble. Quicker than human reflexes and he picked her up, his head tilting to stare into eyes that now seemed to hold endless amounts of mischief.
“...How?” He knew he wasn’t going to get an answer, but he was still baffled. He brought the little one in, handing her to his awaiting companion so he could un-armor.
“See?” She asked, a smug grin on her face, “I told you she caused trouble.”
He could only shake his head and rub the hair at the back of his neck, still wondering how the little one had made it to someplace so difficult for even him to reach. In fact, he hadn’t even visited the Argent Chapel since he took over the Fortress as his base of operations;
At almost-dinner, the little one thumped impatiently at his companion as she plated dinner for all three of them.
“I know-” Thump, “Look, I gotta-” Thump thump! “Make food for-” Thump “for the big people around here-” More thumping as the little one stared lasers up at the woman. She raised a finger, like chiding a child throwing a temper tantrum.
“If you thump at me one more time-!”
Flynn could swear he saw some form of mocking in the little rabbit as she actually paused, leg raised in the air for a solid five seconds, before stomping louder than she had previously.
Flynn picked the little one up then, attempting to distract the demanding toddler of a rabbit while his companion worked her magic on their dinner. He was starting to wonder if this was a nightly routine between the two when he was gone. She was returned to the floor once plates hit the table, pausing as his companion placed the little ones plate at the table across from them. He looked pointedly at the plate.
“Just trust me. If you think her pre-dinner anger was bad, you don’t wanna know what it’s like trying to get her to eat separately.” And thus Flynn stole glances at the bun as they ate. His companion spoke animatedly of her recent escapades while he was gone, filling the silence he typically left. The little one behaved nicely at the table, hopping down once her plate was empty.
Flynn enjoyed the domestic feeling of sharing a meal with someone. Hearty food that filled his belly, whether he needed it or not. Listening to someone talk about everything and nothing at the same time. Her eyes, so alight with life, it was hard to look away as she talked. He should do breakfast tomorrow when she woke up. She liked when he cooked on the rare occasion he was able and he enjoyed having her gush over him and his cooking. A little extra attention never hurt after all.
Post dinner, the little one was content to curl up in Flynn’s lap as he played video games. His hand would drift down from his keyboard on occasion to run his fingers over the soft fur, scratching her head and gently petting her long ears. His companion found him not too long later, arms wrapping loosely about his neck.
“You shouldn’t let her nap so early. She’s gonna be up all night,” She said, pressing her cheek to his. He sighed in response, kissing her cheek apologetically. I’ll take care of it. And he did. To an extent. The little one had been rolling and moving around for a while before it hopped between Flynn and his companion. Little paws tugged the blankets down in an attempt to get closer to the two’s shard body heat.
“Nooooo,” The woman groaned, rolling out of Flynn’s arms and tugging the blankets tighter around herself. Now that was something Flynn wouldn't tolerate. He didn’t sleep, but he did bask in the few hours his companion did. He’d hold her close, keeping her safe until she woke. Listening to her quiet breathing. Hearing and feeling the beat of her heart that let him know she was alive. And their little one had just interrupted that. Unacceptable.
Flynn grumbled under his breath as he dragged the rabbit from their shared bed and started down the stairs from the Fortress’s living quarters. A scolding was needed for this troublemaker. He only let the little one down once he was in his quarters, crouching far down to the little one's height.
He stared.
The little one stared back.
Flynn deliberated his words, deeply considering which one(s) to use. The little one cocked her head at him, seemingly getting both the attention she wanted and having the patience to wait for more. Flynn humphed as he finally decided on what to say.
“Bad bun.” His finger pointed at the little one, scolding her properly for all the trouble she caused in a single day. And beyond that, if the wagging of his finger was anything to go by.
The little bun’s nose stopped twitching as the first syllable left Flynn’s tongue. A moment after the second left, she slowly hopped closer. Closer and closer until she should stand with her tiny front paws on his knee. Her nose twitched, sniffing for a moment before rocking her head into the side of his hand. Headbutting it.
Bad Flynn.
He frowned, heart clenching as the little one nuzzled his hand open so he could begin petting her soft head and ears. Flynn couldn’t stay upset. No, no, no he couldn’t. He felt guilty, knowing now a fraction of the trouble this little one seemed to cause for his companion, and still he was unable to be properly upset with the little one. A great sigh was heaved as his head hung. He needed to do something.
The next morning, his companion raced into the kitchen. Exhaustion was still obvious in her face as she looked wildly about, voice still heavily laced with sleep as she spoke.
“Flynn? The little one’s disappeared. I woke up and she wasn’t where she usually is and-” Her voice cut off abruptly as she finally finished her visual sweep of the kitchen, “oh.” Flynn handed her a plate as she stared at the bun slung across his chest like a small child. She looked between the two slowly before taking the breakfast.
“Is… Is this a solution?” She asked tentatively.
Flynn nodded firmly, giving her a thumbs up, “Contained.”
“Like a criminal,” She agreed, a smile curling on her face.
They sat down to eat, the little one let out, but not before Flynn held up a finger and pointed to the dinner chair beside his. His companion was impressed as the Little one jumped up and sat obediently waiting for him to place down the bowl of greens, only fussing once the bowl was set and his hand moved away.
“What’d you do?” She asked him. Flynn’s brow raised, not caring to pause in shoveling food into his mouth. “To get her to be so… Not an embodiment of chaos?”
“Talked,” Flynn grunted around a mouthful of food.
“Uh, huh,” She responded, a look of clear disbelief on her face. Well, whatever he did seemed to work.
Until it didn’t.
Not even two hours later and Flynn was scrambling through the fortress as the little one ran full sprint away from him. His companion cackled as she watched with the help from VEGA and Hayden via the security system. She hadn’t given into the chase before, so she bet the little one was having the time of her life. The woman fell out of Flynn’s desk chair as he dove in for the catch, missing by a mere hare as the little one banked left at the last possible second.
“You shouldn’t laugh… But it is entertaining.” Hayden remarked, his amusement at Flynn’s expense obvious.
The Doom Slayer, juked by a rabbit almost a third of his size. It took another couple tries before he finally wrangled the little one into his arms. She tugged at his shirt collar and kicked her back feet as he carried her back upstairs. A temper tantrum. Plain and simple.
“Need some help, big guy?” His companion appeared with an apple in hand atop the stairs. A grumble left him as he twisted away, the little one attempting to lunge over his shoulder. No treats, the little one did NOT deserve it right now.
“Oh come on, Flynn, she just wanted to play. Didn’t you sweetie?” His companion smiled as she leaned around him, offering the apple to the little one. She bit into the apple happily, the crunching making Flynn grumble some more.
“Guess I spoil her just as much, huh?” An almost ashamed look was sent his way. Flynn could only huff, the corners of his lips twitching.
I KNOW I JUST SENDED NOT SO LONG AGO BUT UR WRITTING GOT ME IN A HEADLOCK (blaming u/jk keep doing it)
i promise to shudup after this ✋️
Week's been tiring (ik stuff been hard on ya hope u get sum rest too) and that tiredness basically brings me to scenes about things reader does for the slayer
Them cleaning the base. Putting stuff away, mopping, washing dishes. They know he litteraly holds the world on his shoulders, keeping the place nice and tidy as a way to repay him for letting them stay.
Cooking. Something u mentioned in ur drafts, I kinda get the idea reader doesn't know that eating isn't much needed for the slayer anymore till later in their relationship, I doubt the slayer minds tho reader's cooking filling both his stomach and heart. Besides he finds it absolutely adorable seeing you giddy when he eats your cooking (😭🙏💕)
I just know my guy gets cuteness aggression when he sees u in a apron, sweetest smile on you face as you tell him food's ready.
Him just wanting to squish you so bad. Basically fighting his demons to NOT hold ur face and smooch it billions iydtudruidttixixtiyy
PLS DRINK WATER AND THANKS FOR LETTING ME RAMBLE
Hrnhgg brain cogs got going like Patrick thinking for the first time so have a drabble answer! Keep supplying the ingredients (rambling) and I'll keep cooking Chief!
In the fic reader cleans cause of this exactly! His "man-cave" is pretty orderly on average from his military training still drilled into him (getting yelled at by CO if anything's outta place) but have you ever been around stone buildings? Them things dusty as hell. Especially if they've been uninhabited for a long time.
Also, goofy video game logic is goofy and there's totally room in the fortress for another set of stairs and intended Sentinel living quarters. Plot hole plugged with duct tape!
Tw: None save for very slight angst (pls correct me if I'm wrong) Fem!Reader (she/her)
Word Count: 1490
The first time she cooked it was strange.
Strange because he didn't need to eat post divinity machine. Strange because he hadn't eaten a proper meal in he-couldn't-remember-when. Snacks, sure. But not a real meal. She'd tapped him on the shoulder as he played whatever game fit his interest at the time. His headset was moved from his ear as he looked up at her beside him.
"I used the kitchen, I hope it's okay," There was a kitchen here? "I made enough for... Well, a while, and I made you a plate. If you want it." She offered him a ceramic plate with some meal on it. The name escaped him at the moment, but it sure smelled edible. His hands reached before he could think too much on it, giving her a hesitant nod.
And she smiled. Small, a little nervous, but a smile nonetheless. That was the first one he'd seen from her since he found her. It made his heart thump harder in his chest. He was frozen holding the plate and fork for a moment, looking between where she now sat in his throne and the plate like she'd just given him some kind of puzzle to solve.
The fork felt foreign in his hand as he finally registered that this was food in his hands. Food she made. Food she shared with him. The first bites were slow, letting the taste fill his mouth. It was a warm meal, old memories of easier times coming to mind with the flavors that danced across his tongue. So long since he had real food.
"You ate that pretty quick," she was beside him as he all but shoveled the last bite into his mouth. He didn't need to eat but damn if there wasn't hunger there now.
"Do you want seconds?" He nodded, hand not holding the plate bracing against the other arm to stand.
"No," he froze and blinked at her. Her hand was on his shoulder as she tried, and failed, to push him back down, "Let me. It's the least I can do," she paused before another small smile graced her face, "Please?"
How could he say no?
He sat back down with another hesitant nod and handed her the plate.
"Be right back." And she was gone. What to do now? Would it take long? He wanted more. How much had she made? Was she planning on eating that for several meals? Where did she get the ingredients? Where was the kitchen-? Before he knew it, another steaming helping was sat on his desk.
"Eat up!" she seemed delighted, actually, as she set it down. Boy, he hoped she'd keep doing that- well she needed to eat, would she keep sharing?
"If you don't mind I uh, know a thing or two more than just this. I could start setting some aside for you? If you’d like? As repayment for saving me. Allowing me to stay. And all that." She rocked on her heels as she stood beside him. She didn't need to do that. He didn't need repayment. He wanted to help her. But, and so help him god for this, he nodded eagerly. He wanted more.
"Good. Um, okay! I'll portion it out in the fridge from now on so you can grab ‘n’ go." That smile was clearly stifled as she rubbed her cheek. He nodded dumbfounded again.
"Okay. I'll go clean up. Enjoy!" Gone again, her footsteps barely out the door as he chowed down. The plate was cleared in what he could swear was record time. When did he eat like this last? With the Sentinels? They did have some pretty lavish feasts. But even then he was dealing with so much for the first time. And he actually ate somewhat regularly then. Now it felt like he suddenly couldn't get enough.
When he was finished he stood, plate in hand, and hunted for this elusive kitchen. All this time he'd spent exploring these stone halls and he never noticed a kitchen. Then again he was never really looking for one or... Anything really. Look, his man cave had a good view and that's what mattered at the time.
Eventually he found a stairwell leading further up into the higher areas of the fortress. He followed it. These walls were dustier, but more well carved with detail. Stained glass windows lined the stairwell. A star system was the main subject, each panel featuring a different planet front and center until he reached the top. Argent D'nur. The last planet. He tried not to dwell longer than a slow look down the depiction. A silent mourning of those he'd known.
He moved on.
The hall at the top of the stairs housed several doors. Rooms or quarters with beds so dusty even the act of opening the door made particles fly into the air. He continued, a lavish stone archway leading into a small dining room type area and to the left, through another arch was, Her. A chandelier of wrought iron lit the kitchen in bright warm light as she wiped down the stone counter. Dishes rested on a rack above what looked like a sink. Huh. He really should pay more attention to his surroundings more. Like now.
"Hey? How was it?" She asked, leaning back against the counter.
His eyes scanned the counter tops, not spotting more of the food. Had... Had he eaten the rest already? How big had her portion been? Her plate was smaller, for sure. Wasn't it? She was smaller than him- No, those women from Argent could out eat him any day. Then again they were warriors. He gave her a thumbs up, still looking around distractedly.
Her brows furrowed as she stepped closer. He had seen the kitchen before, right? Her hands were held out, trying to take the plate. He pulled it back, looking down at her in surprise. Like he wasn't done yet.
"Do you... Want another serving?" He was a big guy. And he fought demons for a living. Big guy had to eat, she guessed. He looked guilty for a second, like he'd been caught red handed in a candy jar. Then nodded, not meeting her eye.
"Here," she said, placing her hands under the plate again. This time he let her take it. Over to the odd fridge and she unpacked a ceramic container's worth onto it. She thought as she put it together, him taking a seat at the table she'd dragged in and cleaned off.
"You know," she began slowly, "This kitchen was pretty dirty," She held onto the plate as she stood across the table from him, "Like it hadn't been used in a hundred years."
He looked away from her stare.
"You have been eating stuff besides snacks... Right?" Her brow raised.
No response besides a turn of his head away from her.
"You," she paused, hoping she wasn't asking too many questions, "You don't... Eat demons, do you?"
He grimaced and shook his head harshly.
"Do you need to eat?" She was about to be thrown out, she could just feel it. His brow raised and a hand lifted towards the plate. Somehow that didn't fill her with much relief.
"Fair enough," she put the plate down in front of him and watched him start chowing down like this wasn't his third plate.
"However you were surviving, at least you won't have to worry about it anymore." She turned away, not catching the way he paused.
And she was right. Whether she was awake to make something or not, there was always food for him. When she did cook, he at first tried to help. A swift smack to his knuckles with a spoon and he resorted to at least being nearby to get her things should she need them. The Sentinels were tall people. She wasn't quite there. It was cute watching her try to reach for things. Balancing high on her toes and stretching her fingers like it mattered.
Now she asked and he delivered, sometimes standing a little too close to watch over her shoulder after the fact. The urge to wrap his arms around her and cling to her so he could feel involved in some way baffled him. Eventually, after a long night spent with her, he let himself do so. She practically melted in his arms, leaning back against him as she stirred whatever she was making. He couldn't keep his hands off her after that. Wouldn't, even with the threat of being smacked with a spoon the few times he got in the way.
"Alright, alright it's ready, go sit," She would try to shoo him. He wouldn't go, making her plate just as she made his, a quick victorious kiss on her forehead as they traded plates and finally went to sit down. Bastard. Always having to equal the playing field.
I litteraly just stumbled upon this precious video here
AND IT MADE ME THINK OF DOOMGUY WITH LIL BBY DAISY WHAT IF I CRY RN இ௰இ
Tw: a slight in animal death but its not heavily mentioned, it gon be a lil sad cuz dg gets memories :((( but like feel free to avoid reading if uncomfy (gonna have to cut it cuz i dont think u want a essay worth of this lmao and not best in writting like this but still ended long im sorry lol. may be some wording errors on that)
imagen when reader and dg are out and about either because you wanted to go to earth and maybe find survivors or kick demon ass (or both)
as reader walk bit father while dg does what he does best to keep them fuckers out your way, reader stumbles upon a ruined shelter where animals used to reside after being dropped off. You don't know why did you decide to enter the ruined place but something in your heart just told you to.
Later on Dg finish ripping and tearing, turning his head to where you were happily hoping you would praise him for the job well done (as you always do with a smile that just makes him puddle)
But to his surprise he just see you slowly walking to him, immediately running to you once he sees your eyes filled with tears. hands together, shaking seeming to hold something
clearly with all concern many thots go to his brain, did you get hurt? did you see something and scared you? did he just failed to protect the one person he so dear holds his heart? did he failed you-
once he's at your side you speak, hands still clutched to your chest
"Flynn..." you voice broken by sobs and sniffles "Flynn please h-he's so tiny..." you shoulder shake
........he?.....
His brows just furrow as he see you raising your hands closer to him and then finally you show him the reason of your tears and his eyes widen
the tiniest and fluffiest bunny sitting the palms of your hands. The lil buddy looked almost like a mini plush if it wasn't for the way he was shaking, he must at least bee 3-4 weeks old
"He's the only one left.....I...I think his family didn't survive..." You glassy eyes look at the small creature letting you thumb rub onto its furr to comfort the bunny "I didn't see any others..." you look back at your lover whose eyes haven't look up and quickly realizing that he must be recalling stuff from the past...thing he hasn't shared with you yet but you don't dare to pry until he dicides to
you look down as slowly his hand raises towards, once a inch close to the bunny's fur he lets it linger a few seconds long before finally letting his index finger rub on the fur oh so gently
Even though the tint glass of his helmet makes it hard to see his face you can see how his brows don't seem as stiched together as they tend to be in fact
it looks like he's smiling
----------------------------------
ANYWAY I was gonna just make it shorter but i just had the idea of reader and Flynn adopting a bunny they found while beating demons and idk i just thot it could even tho sad at the first glance. it could be healing for him to take care of a bunny. And who knows maybe somewhere daisy and serrat sended the lil guy to him cuz they know he misses them dearly
Imagining doomguy teaching reader how to take care of the bunny and stuff and finally the cage he has in his bas is not so empty anymore
K BYE REMEMBER TO HAVE WATER PLEASE (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)
I can write fluff for this idea too BUT its angst season and I thought I'd take the opportunity to try and hurdle writing some of his trauma.
Doom Slayer x Fem!Reader
TW: Depictions of ptsd, depression, grief, death, and canon typical gore/violence, slight religiosity/mention of religion
!Disclaimer!: The depictions are extensive and may not align with how others tend to experience ptsd, depression, and grief. I have not personally experienced ptsd as described here. I can only speak on what I have seen and been told. I have been depressed and spent a large portion of my life as such, but again others may experience things differently. Discretion is advised.
Word Count: 4138
Another routine sweep. Another long day of silent mourning for the ghosts of lives long gone and forgotten. Flynn would check in with his companion often, a hand on her shoulder or a head tilt if he caught her eye.
“I’m alright, Flynn,” She’d say, her strained tone betraying her. He didn’t push. They’d handle it when they got home. Together.
The small town they landed in was desolate and destroyed. Demons crept in the shadows but they were more manageable than in cities. Life readings were low here but she insisted they check, that they should try in case someone was still here holding out hope. She even suggested they split up to cover more ground. He went east, she went west.
His side of town held plenty of demons in the less demolished buildings here. They hid under porches and behind fences. They infested the houses like bugs, scattering like vermin when they heard his shotgun sound. Some hid, thinking the simple wooden doors would save them. Splinters were left as he’d break them down in his hunt against the creatures. Houses were cleared methodically, criss crossing the street to ensure the things couldn’t escape him. Less demons than the city, but still plenty to feed his unending wrath.
The last house in the culdesac was treated the same. The front door had already been broken off months ago, dirt and leafy fungus growing across the warped wood that creaked under his steps. The inside was covered in blood and destruction. Signs of a struggle. Furniture was over turned, tables missing legs or outright split in half. Cushions were ripped with stuffing that’d clumped and stained red. Walls featured bullet holes and claw marks and holes caused by impact. Photos were knocked over and most laid face down.
He didn’t dare look at them. He learned his lesson a long time ago not to.
His exploration turned to the basement. Dark, reinforced, probably cluttered. Perfect for demons. He carefully descended the steps, index finger stroking the trigger guard on his gun. He swept the basement with all its towering boxes and haphazardly laid out shelves. Nothing but junk and dust down here. It set his teeth on edge that of all the houses this one just happened to be empty. Back up the steps and to the second floor.
Creaking floorboards that he truly couldn’t avoid even if he wanted to echoed down the hall. More picture frames whose broken glass crunched underfoot. One in particular clattered as it fell from the wall. He almost shot it. Almost. He stared at where it’d fallen, feeling like it’d begun calling to him. No, he’d learned his lesson.
There were three room upstairs. The first being the master bedroom. The door was split into several pieces, one left creaking on its hinge as the wind blew around. And covered in blood. The stains were the worst here. The bed had been ripped apart, long claws tearing through blankets and mattress. Everything soaked in a dark dried hue. It crusted and peeled off the walls, spatters like something had been shaken about. Or someone. He turned away from the bones left near the closet.
The next room was a simple bathroom. It was fairly clean compared to the rest of the house, the door actually intact. The only odd thing was the half full tub of murky brown water and the duck floating on its side. Its painted eye stared up at Flynn, a sinking feeling of unease settling in his bones. Something wasn’t right here. He closed the door, leaving the odd duck but not the feeling behind.
His steps were slowed now, cautious of the feeling that was making the hair on his neck raise. The final door in the hall was untouched, though not fully shut. The door was just barely wedged in the frame, the wood had since swollen with excess heat and humidity. It took him a few tries to push it open. It opened silently to the most pristine room in the house.
He really should have paid more attention. Looked at the photos, looked closer at the bathroom, taken a moment to see who the residents had been. Break his own rules so that maybe he would have been better prepared mentally and emotionally for what he saw.
A Nursery.
A crib, a changing table, a big comfy chair laden with clearly handmade blankets strewn across the back. A mural handpainted on the wall. With careful and quiet reverence, he stepped into this frozen piece of time. Late evening light shone into the room’s window, golden rays showing the extent to which time had passed this room by. Pristine. Untouched. Like a church sanctum. More holy even, considering the demons had yet to approach this haven.
The thud of his boot on the woven rug made him feel like one of those demons. So out of place, trodding along a ghost of a life he barely had. He shouldn’t be here. He should’ve left and closed the door, doing his part to preserve this place. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was too much like what was before.
He turned slowly as his eyes roved over the room, taking in every corner with a heavy silence. Voices long dead filled what air he refused to. They echoed in his ears. Laughter he knew he’d never hear again. Songs he knew the words to but had forgotten the melody for. Gentle humming that used to fill his heart, now blowing past cold and empty. Smiles he wished he could see once more, their warmth he missed so dearly.
These memories superimposed ghosts over the room. A figure sat in the chair, bundle swaddled tight in their arms. Another figure stood by the crib, lightly bouncing with a quiet shh-shh-shh. And… The changing table. High pitched giggles as his hands tried to wrangle stubbornly kicking little feet and waving arms.
The scrape of metal as his gauntleted fingers dragged across the old wood brought more memories he could previously barely recall. They flooded his mind, bringing him in and out of his consciousness. Before he could stop himself, his hand cradled the only item out of place in the room. It’d been left out on the end of the table, meant to be used at one point but ultimately abandoned.
It was tiny in his palm. So small, his heart ached as he recalled the first time such a precious thing was first placed in his arms. It was only a sock. Just a little, itty-bitty sock against his seemingly giant hand. But he remembered the size the wearer would be. It was so long ago, but he remembered. It hurt. He couldn’t even recall their faces, hard as he tried. A few shuddering exhales left him as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried. Nothing. Bits and pieces but no vivid memories.
He turned, fist curling shut as he tried to chase the other fading memories. He reached in an attempt to cling to them and get a forgotten part of himself back. So he could see them again. So they’d know, one more time, how much he loved them. Like dust, the memories slipped away, falling from his mind like fine grains of sand. His eyes opened, forced back into the present once more.
One last thing called to him before he could leave, before he could turn his back to this place and all the scraped-raw emotions he didn’t want to have to feel again.
His hand gently brushed the drywall, the noise once again calling him to look, to see, the hand painted mural that reached from the floor to well into the ceiling. A harbor. Storks carrying bundles, a glittering ocean, sunlit sailboats, a sunset sky of pinks and orangy-yellows, fluffy clouds, green leaves and flowers in a myriad of colors. He’d wished he could make something like this back then. Wished he was able to use his skill in drafting blueprints and diagrams to make something as beautiful as this. She would have loved this. He would have loved this.
Flynn’s head fell, helmet gently resting against the wall as another wave of sorrow crashed over him. No ghosts this time. No memories. Just the remnants of emotions since passed and ripped open anew. His teeth clenched as the feeling started to change. Started distorting into the only powerful emotion he’d felt for the last thousands of years.
He never even found their bodies-
The creak of the door and his head jerked toward the sound. An Imp snarled at him, jaw wide open to show off sharp, jagged teeth. His rage flared. The creature crouched, readying to lunge at the Doom Slayer, to encroach on the peace of this place. Not this place. Not this refuge of innocence, of Hope.
His shotgun was drawn and the trigger pulled before it’s gangly limbs even left the floor. It’s head exploded with buckshot, body rippling from the impact and blood spraying from what was left of its neck. It wasn’t enough. The Slayer moved, eyes trained on the limp body. The boot of the praetor suit crushed bone and flesh as he delivered swift punishment to the creatures remains. Over and over and over again. He only stopped when his breathing grew ragged and there was little more than blood left beneath his boot. His labored breathing caught in his throat as his head lifted and he saw the result of his rage.
Blood spattered the room. The sickening color covered everything- the mural, the changing table, the chair, the crib. The crib. It was a bloodshilling sight that made bile sour the back of his throat. Sin fueled guilt rose within him at the scene. It was just like then. His fault. If only he’d been faster. Then maybe- And Daisy-
Flynn’s eyes shut once more, fists clenching as he recognized that even what he held most dear was bound to the same fate; Bloodied and desecrated. The creak of his gauntlet reminded him of relic it held. His fist opened, the little white sock unsullied by the viscera that covered and surrounded him. Untouched.
Like Her.
He left. His stride was louder and faster than when he first entered. He left it all behind. The sock was tucked into his belt to be remembered later. His pace was unrelenting as he made his way back to the town center where they’d promised to meet up. He needed to see her, to hold her, to keep her close. If he kept her close, maybe her could save her. Maybe he could keep her from the same inevitable fate that plagued everything he cared for. He didn’t want to lose her too. He couldn’t do it again. He’d already lost so much- too much.
His heart beat faster against his ribcage as he pushed himself faster. He could feel his own thrumming pulse with his entire body, wired to jump in and do whatever he needed to keep her safe. He prayed she was safe, that she was okay. He already left her alone too long. He left them alone too long.
The town center was quiet, his heavy footsteps and the rustle of wind though dead leaves were the only sounds. Fresh and old blood painted crumbled concrete and brick. It was cold. She wasn’t there. His hold on his shotgun tightened, his finger once again petting the trigger guard as he began to pace the courtyard. He checked the sun as best he could through the clouds to get some sort of timing. After fifteen minutes he started tracking.
Blood, viscera, spent casings, bullet holes, bodies. Red footprints. He passed old businesses with “open” signs still hung in the windows. Department stores with broken windows and ransacked displays. Restaurants with tables overturned and chairs scattered. Every building’s structure had at least partial walls crumbled and destroyed like some great force broke the stone and cinder down. It probably did. In parking lots, cars were flipped and smashed if not just a frame on melted rubber.
The demon’s destruction was worse here than in the residential areas. So, so much worse. And he let her clear it alone.
The freshest tracks had a slower pace, boot treads closer together than ones near demon corpses. He followed them as they turned and twisted though wreckage. They ended at a dark shop. The doors were pushed open as he stepped into what appeared to be a waiting room. High vaulted ceilings held skylights, the dusk light not doing much to illuminate the room. His eyes scanned the room, making sure nothing hid behind the chairs or along the rafters. His eyes paused on a shelf that held a few pet toys and accessories. Not a pet store, but a veterinary.
“Come on! Come on-!” A strained voice, not an echo but a real voice, had him turning to the swing doors behind the counter, “Give me something, anything! I know you’re a fighter, come on!”
Flynn vaulted the counter with ease, following her shaking mantra into the building’s depths. The hall was long, the light coming from a room at the end was all that penetrated the shadows. He went towards it, heart hammering in his ears alongside her continued pleas for whatever soul she’d found that needed help. Aside from her, it was dead silent. Not the way a vet should be. The stench of death had his eyes avoiding the kennels.
She turned suddenly as he stepped into the doorway. Her eyes were wide, tears rimming her lashes. His heart stopped at the look of wild distress.
“Flynn!” She called, his muscles tensing in preparation, “Get that towel, quickly!” She commanded, one head jerking to motion to the table beside him. His body moved in an instant, handing her the fluffy towel and trying to see over her hunched shoulders as he knelt beside her.
“Please,” Her voice shook, “Please don’t die on me.”
His eyes wandered. A pool of fairly fresh blood dragging his view to the limp form of a very large and very dead rabbit that laid out on the floor. His heart seized at the tiny pink shapes huddled against it’s stomach.
“Yes!” Her sudden shout had him lifting his shotgun, reflexes taking hold before she turned to him, “I-I couldn’t save the others but this little one was still holding on. I-” Her lip quivered “I didn’t think I could do it. It was so cold.” Her hands lifted the tiny baby rabbit wrapped in the fluffy towel. It was breathing, but barely. He looked back to it’s mother.
“Oh little one, the world you’ve been born into.” She pulled the rabbit closer, holding the bundle against her chest in an attempt to warm the little life. Flynn stood, moving with stark efficiency around the exam room. Resources were gathered, old knowledge and routine replaced instinct. They weren’t done yet, not if they wanted this little soul to live.
“Here,” Flynn said, kneeling beside her with a hand held out towards the bundle. It took her a moment to let go and place the life in his hand. He flipped the bottle in his other hand, bringing it to the little rabbit’s mouth. It’s head turned, refusing.
Flynn’s jaw clenched, his eyes flicking to the woman waiting beside him. If it couldn’t eat, it wouldn’t survive. A shake and squeeze of the bottle made a droplette fall to the rabbits mouth. A long silence passed as it processed the taste, every second making Flynn tense further. He hoped against the odds that it knew what that drop meant and what it needed to do. It did. Eager chittering and squeaking erupted from the little one, its paws moving wildly as it loudly demanded more. Flynn sighed, finally able to feed it its first real meal.
“What would I do without you,” She sank against his side, head falling to lay against his shoulder. His heart squeezed at the familiar words. He didn’t see her there. Just the woman that’d been his companion for quite some time now. He looked away, back to the life cradled in hands that’d been used to kill and destroy for so long. Different, and yet so similar. Vastly different times, lives, even worlds, but it all seemed to find him again and again. His hands twitched as the bundle wiggled. He didn’t want to lose everything again.
“Poor thing,” Her voice spoke softly, “It’s so much smaller than the others.” Her finger caught one of its waving paws.
“Runt,” Flynn agreed.
“Do you,” She hesitated, already knowing the answer, “Do you think it’ll be alright by itself?”
“... No.” His eyes squeezed shut. He could see the pike. The blood. The foot.
“Flynn, can we bring it back with us?” Her hand moved to cradle the side of his hand. He stared, both at the rabbit and memories long passed. His gaze moved to the remains of its family then landed on the woman looking right back at him.
Could he really do it all again? Could he take it if the worst happened? Could he stand to lose… Lose Her? Scars littered her body from the time she spent beside him. Her eyes shadowed by dark circles that may never go away, the defiant set of her jaw, the semi permanent crease between her brows. And her eyes, like they heralded a great storm. They’d seen so much, continued to see so much.
“Please?” She insisted, head tilting to see through his visor better. There was more there. More words constantly unsaid that he could catch the barest glimpse of in her eyes. Something there that caused his heart to warm and settle. A heavy sigh pushed through his respirator. She could hold her own. She’d survived this long beside him. She would be alright. This time, he was going to protect everything he cared about, no matter what.
He nodded.
“Thank you, Flynn.” A small smile that had his heart skipping a beat and kiss was pressed to the side of his respirator.
***
The memories had started to fade. Not in a bad way, necessarily, but he didn’t dwell on them as much. He still had their photo tucked away in a book he’d staunch refused to look at. Until now.
A pale pink book on the top shelf, his fingers pulling away from the spine like it’d burned him. He hesitated. Did he really want to see it again? Feel everything he felt all over again like when he first put it on that shelf? Did he want to read the words he wrote so many centuries ago? With a sigh he braced himself, index finger catching on the book’s spine to pull in down.
My Best Friend Daisy.
A journal he began writing when he first started bootcamp. He needed a piece of home that wasn’t so… Volatile. Daisy was that piece. Sweet, innocent, but a very willful bunny. His fingers traced the blue and black ink on the first page, glancing to the polaroid of his best friend taped to the inside cover as he read along. Daily happenings, events of note, things that’d pissed him off, what he ate. Short paragraphs talking about how he worried about daisy being left with his mother. Longer ones recalling funny stories.
Flynn flipped through the pages, watching his handwriting shift over the years as he wrote less and less. It was almost to the end of the book when the writing stopped. The last words were near illegible. Written in a harsh shaking hand, dots of ink further muddying and smearing the text. But he still knew what it said. It was a lamentation. A promise. His fingers traced the dry crinkled sheets, feeling the same raw grief he had when the tragedy and ink was still fresh. His heart felt stretched beyond its cavity as his eyes crawled across the page, taking in every word anew. He stopped as the corner of another polaroid came into view.
It came slowly into focus the longer he looked. Faces that felt so familiar but were now so foreign. He knew their faces. He could feel their smiling cheeks against his callused palm. Yet it felt surreal to see. Like ghosts. The faces of the dead, smiling back at him from their own world inside the photo.
Just a few minutes. That's all he stood there for. It felt longer, his fingers tracing the edge of the polaroid, scared to touch the actual photo for fear of damaging it- or staining it with the ever present blood on his hands. They were gone. Hopefully their souls rested somewhere better. He’d been a man of god, once. Once. Before the world continued to prove itself too cruel a thing to believe in such mercy. He still hoped they were able to find some. Them and whoever this little one was going to be.
The baby sock felt heavy as he pulled it from his pocket. He saw so many memories in this little thing. How many were similar to this one’s parents? Did they get to see their child walk? Talk? Smile? Laugh and giggle? It was such a tiny sock. A truly pure and innocent life, brought into this life without a choice and taken out without one just the same. Flynn placed the sock alongside the polaroid, between the pages of his old journal. A promise. A prayer. The book was carefully shut and slid back onto the shelf. He’d carried on for them. He’d continue to carry on for them-
“Flynn?”
He turned sharply at the call of his name. The woman jumped at the quick reaction and the glare on his face. His expression softened quickly upon seeing her and the little soul she’d saved. The last couple weeks had been good to the little rabbit. Fur had grown in, its eyes opened, and it was much healthier than when they’d found it. And bigger. Quite bigger already.
“You alright?” She asked, taking a few tentative steps closer. Was he alright? He looked aside as he thought about it.
The memories had plagued him endlessly, crashing in and rolling out like an ocean tide. Yearning for what had been. A relentless sadness that sat in his chest all hours of the day. Now… Now it wasn’t so bad. The tide seemed like it’d begun to ebb away. Each day, each mission, each return, less and less now. Flynn looked back to the pink book. He couldn’t change the past. He needed to live with it again like he had for so long- maybe… Maybe he actually hadn’t yet. Maybe that’s what had been making all this hurt so much; the fact that he hadn’t allowed himself to grieve.
That's what this was. Grief. He’d need to learn again, properly this time, how to live with the past and the present. He’d still honor them, day in and day out, but he had a different life now. Different, yet so similar. He didn’t choose this, but it’s what he had. He turned again. She was here with him. Both of them. She saw him as more than his titles. The little one saw him as something safe. He was cared for, wasn’t he?
He finally gave her a nod, taking the last careful steps to stand before her. She didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away as his arms dragged her to him in a hug. She was warm. She was here. She was real. He was never letting her go.
“Am now,” Flynn rumbled, face pressed against her head as he held her tight. He’d continue to be alright with her here. He’d probably never do much better than that for the time being, but he’d take what comfort he could get from her as long as she was willing to give it.
“Glad I could help,” He could hear the smile in her voice as one of her arms reached around to rub his back. Small comforts. Endless meaning to him. Infinite care. Anything he could do for her, he would. Sudden loud squeaking broke his inner prayer and promise. She pulled away before he wanted her to, a totally not-pout on his face. The little rabbit was pawing at the air and insistantly demanding to be fed.
“I came to ask if you wanted to feed him this time. You were gone for a while on your last mission and I know you like taking care of him-” Flynn was already nodding and dragging the woman along with a hand at her back and one of hers entwined in his.
Now I'm imagining reader finding a toy that resembles them and showing it to dg all giddy cuz now toy dg can now have his own s/o 🥹💕💕
They sit next to each other on the shelf and when he leaves and they aren't awake, he gives it one of those little indirect kisses where he kisses his fingers then touches its mouth 🥺 gotta give em a big ole kiss before he goes but he doesn't wanna wake em up.
honestly i cannot get over of ur slayer smut headcanons god they are SO FUCKING GOOD
makes me feel so giddy knowing how much slayer ADORES his s/o
and reader just being the safest human like legit this man just scaring anything that comes withing ur perimeter bf they even notice them ksoPDVPIVAJOVIAIFDUV
scary dog privileges? Nah we got scary God privileges
ik he would do this thing that when opening doors he checks the area and if all good he lets u in first, always. He still got that gentelman on him me thinks
anyway hope ur feeling lil better and PLS hydrate byeeeeeeeeeeee
I am feeling much better, thank you!
And YESSSSS the Slayer would find reader one day and be like "oh, oh you live like this?" And just YOINK! No more outside privileges, you're staying in the giant, floating, safe castle. He wouldn't need much convincing if they did want to leave (respects their autonomy) but he would not be happy about it (looming over reader in everything they do until he can take them back).
At the basis of his character, it's about the separation and combination of Man and Weapon. He knows his power, he knows how it should be wielded and he knows he's the only person who can achieve that. So his every waking hour is spent being this great huge figure of power, rage, and vengeance and he takes solace knowing he's doing what should be done. Good of humanity and all that, that he's always fought for.
But with his s/o? He doesn't have to worry about being that thing- that title. He can be selfish. He can be jealous. He can be greedy. And they let him. In return they show him all these emotions besides fear and uncertainty. He can bring them joy. This man, whose only seen himself as a weapon against the demons for who knows how long, can make someone happy. And they don't ask for a thing in return, even though at the point he realizes it, he'd give them everything.
His partner sees the him he hasn't been allowed to be and they like that him. On top of liking the being of power that he is. And that makes him happy.
Honestly, I think he'd melt like butter if someone smiled and genuinely said Thank You. You can imagine at that point the absolute puddle he'd be for his s/o. And the man would be more than delighted to show his appreciation- just cause he doesn't speak doesn't mean his tongue can't work. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
I need ur thoughts on this: you can grab doomguy's hand and get his attention at any point. don't know him? he'll still let you grab him and tug him around if you're going to point him in the direction of some demons to kill he may have missed. know him? you can literally direct this man at any target and it will be obliterated. whatever you say ma'am he's on it. and if you thank him earnestly and mean it? he will take out the sun for you even if you're just a stranger to him
This ended up longer than I meant so answer's under the cut!
Mild Spoilers so BEWARE
I wouldn't say any target but if he sees it as a means to end evil or end suffering he would. Let me break it down this way;
Doom Guy's reaction to the trolley problem would likely be;
Can he blow up the trolley? His first reaction cause why the fuck is this an issue, this is the most immediate problem and the quickest way to solve it.
Can he move the people? Invincible trolley? Well the most important part is getting innocent lives to safety.
Can he derail the train/throw himself in front of it to save the people? Now while its not always his first reaction, he's not above sacrificing himself for others, even if it ends up "killing" him.
We see some of this thinking with the tether in DtDA. When he gets locked up with the 3 Cthulhus after breaking from Mayker control, he doesn't automatically go for the tether, he uses his shield and try to break the barrier. Well if he can't get through the barrier, he can't shoot the things clearly imprisoning him. That's when he goes "fuck it" and shoots for the atom bomb approach. He needs OUT because there are LIVES at stake and he will gladly die trying to get there to save them.
So YES, he can be lead around like a puppy and dragged from his primary objective at the promise of helping/aiding in protecting people and/or killing demons. He appreciates the fact someone would see him as a protector and isn't too afraid to ask him for help. A "Thank you" would spurn his fight and he'd likely memorize their face as a reminder as to what he's fighting for.
But, if he knows you, He doesn't need to be told what to do. You're already one of his top priorities. He won't leave you with anyone he doesn't trust with your utmost safety. And if he hears you're in danger? Hell fears him now, but he'll truly haunt their waking in his vengeance. He's lost so many people, you aren't going to be one of them. He swears it, to you and to himself.
If you're active in the fight, he trusts you enough to hold your own but will have an eye on your back the entire fight, even at a detriment to himself. He'll trust your word if you say demons are here, there, or wherever- if they're coming for you, high chances are you won't be getting the first hit in (probably not the killing blow either depending on).
All in all, while he may not go for the sun itself, Flynn is a Good Man who will protect as much life as possible no matter who you are, but will fight even harder for what he cares about (so long as you aren't a demon ofc).
I hope this is what you were looking for, Anon! I LOVE answering these type of character questions and I love that y'all see me as someone who's thoughts and opinions on his character matters!
However I do want to say, as I get these asks and answer them, keep in mind these are my thoughts based off what I've seen and the fact he's my favorite type of character. I have lots of opinions and if they don't fit your headcanons or your perceptions, that's ok and you aren't wrong for that. I just like yapping and if you agree then Yay! Hopefully I was able to voice what you were thinking!
Thank you for the ask and feel free, any of you, to continue asking me questions about our Big Man!
lmao but like u do think because of how often Doomguy keeps eyebrows furrowed his face just stays grumpy 24/7 even tho he isnt?
like u gotta remind him to relax his face but its just comes naturally to him to just keep looking angry, do that thing where u press ur fingers between his brows and watch them going back into digging his skin kkskdke;kfl;kqf;
he be really looking like >:( even when doing the most mundane stuff
he so silly pls
pls remember to drink water have a good one
I'd like to think they sit low most of the time not just cause he's perpetually enraged, but being that angry for a long time make's a bitch's head hurt (speaking from experience). Most of that's a stress response due to muscles being tight for too long from fight or flight- lack of flight in the big mans case.
So, if one were to help him relax in some way, perhaps, or offer to give him a massage to ease out the tension in those great big shoulders, his brows wouldn't be trying to bridge the gap between them for a while.
On a less suggestive softer note, he probably wouldn't have his brows scrunched so much when he's reading. I can picture him in his throne/reading chair, head on one fist just flipping though comic pages real slow so he can admire the artwork. In fact, you'd probably be able to tell what's going on in the story just by his eyebrows lol.
Fifty Shades of Slay is an exception. I will not elaborate.
Hey it's me (goku) Ender, on the topic of alcohol, i started thinking, do you think DG still has the capacity of getting drunk or did that go away with the Divinity Machine shenanigans (sort of how Capn America cant get drunk cuz of the serum)
Would he even like alcohol?? He gives me the impression he wouldnt lmao
Lemme lay out real quick how getting drunk works for the folks who don't drink (You don't need it, I promise you)
When your body metabolizes alcohol there's a handful of factors that are gonna impact how much alcohol affects you:
What is the proof or abv (alcohol by volume) of what you're drinking?
Is there anything else your body needs to metabolize? (Have you eaten before drinking?)
How much mass is on your body? (Height and weight)
Genetics (how your genetics factor into the processing (or not) of alcohol)
So to sum it all up, due to his gigantic stature, and depending on how exactly you think the Divinity Machine affects DG's metabolism, he would either need to consume an ungodly amount of alcohol and probably get sick trying, or he just... Wouldn't get drunk.
I agree with @endergoomi that I don't think he would want to try and I don't think he'd like alcohol. Now, he'd probably have a beer for the taste to reminisce on his (much) younger days in the Marines. But that'd also imply he's feeling... sentimental.
Personally I headcanon his father being the same as in the Doom novels and like Blazokowicz's that we see in the Wolfenstein games;
He ended up joining the Marines as a result of a strong belief in honor, and also because of his father, a person he held much disdain towards, a petty criminal, chauvinist, bully, and alcoholic who was frequently at odds with the law. Flynn's father never understood the concept of honor, as Flynn sees it, and also never understood why Flynn joined the Marines in the first place (nor did Flynn admit that he was one of the main reasons he did so; to not end up like him).
From the DOOM wiki for Flynn Taggart
I think that kind of relationship would put DG well off alcohol. The man has probably had 3 beers his entire life and they were all at funeral services.
If anything I think he'd have fun about the fact he doesn't drink. Like Nic Cage's Johnny Blaze eating jelly beans out of a martini glass (love that scene I think it's so goofy)
Though Flynn strikes me a a Mike 'n' Ike type of guy.
