#and danse finds out hes not who he thought he was and he desperately wants to be someone else. someone he has a choice over

[slocumjoe]

maybe it's the cough cough relatability I find in the concept but ppl do not explore/think about danse and substance abuse enough

[everydayyoulovemeless]

A little bit of an angst request but could you write the companions finding sole sobbing and injured, thinking their companion abandoned them after accidentally getting separated

Fo4 Companions Reactions To Sole Being Emotionally Distraught After Being Separated

➼ Word Count » 2.1k ➼ Warnings » Angst, Mentions of Blood

MacCready starts to yell a little, not because he's mad but because he's scared and doesn't know what he's supposed to do once he finds you. He'll quickly stab a stimpak into you, throw you on his back, and take you to the first stable location he can find before shushing your sobs and promising you that he's not going anywhere. He'll sit with you like that until you fall asleep, and he'll still be in the same spot when you awake. He hates that you thought he'd just abandon you. It makes him think you see him as just another merc only out for himself, and he can't stand that. He'll try to do as much as he can while you recover just to try and build that trust with you and show that he really is here for the long run.

Nick lets out a relieved sigh once he spots you, only stopping when he notices the blood covering the ground and the tears that are streaming down your face. He'll crouch down beside you, worry evident in his neon gaze as he checks you over for any cuts or broken bones. He's not as good at fixing up humans as he is with machines, but he'll do his best with the things he has with him. He's gotta admit, he's a little hurt that you thought he'd just desert you once things got tougher, but he swallows the feeling down. Maybe you're just not used to traveling with synths? He really hopes it's not because of what he is and due to some other unknown reason, but the thought seems to linger. He won't question you about it at all, instead just doing his best to get you to safety and disinfect your wounds the best that anyone can in a wasteland. He'll be a lot friendlier to you after the incident, hoping you'll eventually begin to trust him more.

Cait doesn't blame you for thinking she'd leave. If it were anyone else, she probably would. There isn't room for any trust in this world, but you'd been nice to her this far, and she felt the need to repay that debt. She'll march up to you, bat in her hand, saying something along the lines of, "We've only bin separated fur a couple o' minutes, how'd ye git yersel' so messed up?" She says it to lighten the mood, but is quick to start wrapping bandages around your injuries. She allows herself to be a bit softer, letting her guard falter as she focuses on getting you in better shape than how she found you. After it's all over, she'll ignore that it ever happened, refusing to ever mention the occurrence out of respect for your reputation and want for your continued companionship.

Danse is completely baffled that you thought he could ever do something like that to one of his fellow soldiers? He has experience with this exact type of reaction and, although he'll be stiff and awkward about it, he'll let you lean on his shoulder as you regain yourself, picking you up and guarding you as he takes you back to the nearest camp he can think of. He'll be less harsh towards you, with slightly fewer demands and making his voice a little softer. It's a traumatizing thing to go to, and he understands that. He'll be there with you every step of the way, knowing exactly what to do and who to take you to if things go south. He's probably one of the best ones on this list.

It hurts Preston to know that you thought he left you. He's not sure what he did to make you think that he'd ever abandon you but he's desperate to fix whatever it was. He's firm in his actions, having done this countless times before, kneeling down beside you to inspect your injuries closer before deciding on what his next move will be. He's muttering apologies the entire time, saying that he "didn't mean for you both to get separated like this." He might actually start tearing up himself at the sight of you so vulnerable distraught. He just ends up hugging you, promising that he'd never intentionally leave you stranded like that, before throwing your arm over his shoulder and helping you to the nearest form of shelter.

You can hear the panic in Codsworth's voice as he frantically floats over to you, handing you a cup of purified water. His heart breaks when you say you thought he abandoned you. He waited at the house for two full centuries, hoping that one day he might see you and your family come from over the hill, and you still thought he had it in him to ditch you? He doesn't understand your reasoning with it, and he's not sure if he wants to. The mere thought of deserting you in a possibly dangerous environment tears him apart, but he'll push it all to the side to focus on getting you to safety. He'll loosen up about it after everything calms down, accepting that you mostly have some form of unresolved trauma from the vault or the wasteland that has nothing to do with how you feel about him. He does still wonder if you truly don't see how important you are to him, though, and it hurts him to think about it, but whether you like it or not, he's a part of your family, and he'll do whatever he can to keep that title.

Piper gets a little annoyed at you. Her boots echo along the ruined concrete, an exacerbated hand running down her face as she asks what you really think of her. Do you see her as just some merc looking for the first opening she can get so that she can ditch the contract and take the caps? She's been advocating for you since day one, fighting against the entire idea of forgetting about things when life finally gets tougher. She refuses to leave anyone behind and finds it a little insulting that you thought she'd run without a second thought. irritated as she is, she'll still patch you up the best she can before running to get security to help you back to Diamond City. She'll let you rest for a day, but once you're deemed better, she'll lecture you for hours saying how she obviously cares for you, otherwise, she wouldn't have gone in the first place. The two of you are ride or die, and you need to trust her for it to mean anything.

Curie's at a loss for words when she sees you. The two of you were only separated for so long, how'd you manage to get this hurt? Her first priority would be to focus on patching you up. It won't do her any good trying to calm you down if you're passed out from the pain and blood loss. She's gentle with her every action, ensuring that you're looked after and doing ok. After that, she'll take you to a secluded area and dote on you some more, rubbing your shoulders gently and asking you what happened. She doesn't mind that you thought that of her, from a medical perspective, she can understand how fear and injury can cloud someone's judgment or perception of reality and is mainly just focused on making sure you're feeling better before either of you head out again.

Strong doesn't understand why you're crying and will just throw a piece of raw meat at you and tell you that you both need to start moving again because the place is "too dangerous for puny human". If he notices that you physically can't move, he'll begrudgingly throw you over his shoulder and carry you to wherever until someone with a bit of medical training (most likely a caravan) can look you over, all the while he's making fun of you for being so weak.

Hancock feels horrible when he finally spots you in the distance and is quick to stab some med-x into you to help ease your pain. He isn't all too sure what he's meant to do to help you out, so he just grips your shoulders and props you up against the nearest wall before sitting down beside you with a heavy sigh. He'll give you a minute to compose yourself a little bit, offering you a couple stimpaks before gently asking you about what had happened. He isn't all too hurt about you thinking he abandoned you, he'll mostly chalk it up to a bad chem trip. Hancock will sit there and listen to your sobs for as long as you need before steadily helping you up and taking you back to the Old State House, where he can better watch over you for the time being. He understands fully what it's like to have all reality warped in an instant of fear and confusion and will be glad to give you all the space and time you need to recover from your injuries and breakdown.

Deacon’s not sure what to do. He’s mad that he let you both get separated and wants to help calm you down, but he has no idea how to go about it. He’ll stand there silently for a while, at a loss for words for one of the first times in years, before finally deciding to just ignore your mental anguish for now and focus on the large gashes covering your body. It stings that you don't seem to trust him, but it stings even worse that he can't really question you for it. I mean, he's done nothing but lie to you for a good portion of your travels, but he didn't think that it'd affect you like this. Or at least he hopes it was just his lies, he wouldn't know what to do with himself if there was another untrustworthy aspect of his personality that you didn't like. He wants the best for you, he truly does, and he feels so incredibly guilty seeing you whimper on the ground like this. So much so, that he'll gradually try and change his behavior around you to make himself seem more reliable. He understands the reasoning behind why you might feel this way, he disappears on people all the time, but he never wants to leave you with the impression that'd he'd do it at a time as drastic as this.

X6-88 immediately teleports you to your room in the Institue and takes care of you in a strictly professional manner. He'll calmly do what he needs to do to fix up your injuries and frequently give you one-word responses to your incoherent sobs. He won't let you leave your room for at least the next 3 days and will be right there with you the entire time. He's constantly checking in on you to make sure you're doing better both emotionally and physically and hopes that this will be enough to prove that the Institute has nothing but you're the best interest at heart. He would never leave you for dead and uses this experience to show how the wasteland is horrible and you should just move into the Institue full time.

Dogmeat is confused and incredibly worried. He’ll lick your face repeatedly in an attempt to get you to stop crying. Once he notices you're injured though he’ll start barking hoping someone will come along and help.

Old Longfellow has never deliberately left one of his loved ones behind and will never plan on it. He wastes no time getting you on his shoulder and rushing you to the first location that gets you both out of the fog for a decent period of time before glancing you over. He's very firm in what he's doing and will use this opportunity to teach you basic medical skills so you never have to worry about being left behind and injured. Longfellow has experienced his fair share of close calls while alone out here in the Far Harbor forests and will willingly tell you everything you'd need to know about survival to ensure you're safety moving forward.

Gage thinks you're stupid for putting yourself in such a vulnerable position like this, but doesn't blame you for thinking that he'd abandon you, I mean, he did it to Colter, it makes sense you'd think he'd do the same to you. He'll come over beside you and tell you that you've done way too much for him to even want to abandon you. If he did, the other Nuka-World leaders would skin him alive. He'll then have you climb onto his back before he carries you back to the park to get you looked at by someone more capable than he is. No hard feelings on his part.

[softlyapocalytpic]

Fallout 4 Companion Backstory Headcanons

A list of headcanons just for context of my writing later on, and cuz it’s fun to share! This won’t be exhaustive by any means, but more just a fun something with some of my thoughts ✨. I’ll do the other games some other time after thinking on them, but mostly my thoughts are about Fallout 2 which no one ever talks about lmao

Preston

Somewhere between 24 - 27. He feels young still, but not young enough to FEEL young… y’know what I mean.

Can’t explain it, but for years he’s always lived by train tracks in my mind. Walking down them with a radio in a rucksack on his shoulder or something like that.

Grew up (at least until he was seventeen) with his Mom & Dad. Quiet life by a forest. (I’m just imagining Oberland Station aren’t I lmao). They die either when he’s around 13, 17, or shortly after he joins up with the Minutemen. Raiders. Whatever settlement/farm he grew up in is gone now in part because of death, and the other reason is people moving on to somewhere safer.

I kept trying to make him the eldest brother, but honestly I think he might just be an only child?? Definitely big brother’d the younger kids in the settlement, but had an older kid or family member who he looked up to at least for a little while.

I can just imagine that older sibling person becoming a Minuteman and Preston hears back from them sporadically in his childhood, or a squad coming through when he’s somewhere between 7 - 10 years old and having that typical hero worship moment when he looks up at them with those big ol’ eyes and gets his hat from them. Made up his mind then and there to join one day.

While his education wasn’t the most robust in the world, I think he was always looking out for brochures, books, pamphlets, anything with a little bit of history in it. He got most of it cheap because it was junk that wasn’t going to get sold otherwise, and he keeps all these different papers/clippings in old banged up cookie tin that takes with him everywhere. Lost it in Quincy, but eventually gets it back when the Minutemen reclaim it from the Gunners.

Piper

Not any older than 25, but she feels more like a 23 or 24 to me. Let’s go with 24. Feels like that if she lived in modern NYC she’d fit right in with the hustle culture and rooftop bars where you can see all the lights of the city.

She grew up on the Northern outskirts of the Commonwealth closer (but not right next) to a huge forest up there.

Her settlement had rickety ass walls that technically had walkways to patrol the entire perimeter, but like… holes everywhere. Animals get into all the time as well as attacks just generally messing it up.

She’d go on the walkways sometimes and stare off towards the horizon thinking about making it big and living in ✨Diamond City✨. It was always her dream to live there.

Mom died shortly after she gave birth to Nat, but her dad never made her feel his grief about it. Definitely got this mentality of putting on airs to seem more put together than you are from him, which she now does for Nat. Or tries to anyhow

Moved to Diamond at least five years ago. I could see the argument for like 2 or 3, but I like the idea of her coming to Diamond City as a very young adult after saving up a lot of caps to move with Nat.

Can be classified as a bisexual disaster, but I like to imagine her with a heavy preference towards women and femmes. I just want some sapphics alright.

I don’t remember her attitude on the Silver Shroud at the moment, but fuck if she seems like she ADORED the Mistress of Mystery and desperately want her to find out about the whole academy and everything. It sounds so up her alley!!!

Danse

Idk if it’s contentious or not, but Cutler was a real living person that Danse knew. Broadly speaking none of his memories are false because broadly speaking he lived them!!! Like, everything before living in Rivet City is implanted, but I love Danse the scrappy youngin with little meat on his bones alongside Cutler, and the two them joining the BoS together

But you may say, Astra! Synths body weight doesn’t change and they don’t age. I call bullshit!!! I tried to play in the framework as much as possible but it doesn’t make any sense to me that they wouldn’t age/change form & weight at least a little!!! Synths… aren’t machines. They’re fleshy computers with an extra piece installed to interface with them. If they eat a stupid amount of fancy lad snack cakes, or go through intense physical training, their body will change! Okay rant over.

Also, I could see why people might want him to have more false memories considering that him questioning his identity and the entire basis of it is… a pretty big deal to his character, but with the story he tells… why make that up? I don’t think he’s an Institute plant, and why would the RR do that to him? It doesn’t make sense. And like the idea that what he’s been through is real even if he doesn’t realize it for a while. He’s a real person with a real life- it just started a little differently.

I can’t decide on him being formerly a courser or not… I think I’ll go with no, but maybe he was considered for it. I think it’d be too much like Harkness if he was, but regardless two synths… right under Zimmerman’s nose. Yikes.

I think he was a fresh recruit during the time of the LW, and at least for my story he will be. Doesn’t think about the LW too much except when he sees the propaganda posters everywhere. Doesn’t get the hero worship everyone else has.

As for his physical age, I think most people would clock him at very late twenties or early thirties. (I think other Danse’s could be a little older, but for my purposes I like him hear.) He doesn’t know how old he is actually but has a round-a-bout idea of what he thinks he is. For BoS documentation reasons they list him as 29, but he feels older than that.

I like to imagine Danse looking up to Harkness a little bit when he was younger, modeling after him in some fashions.

Deacon

He’s somewhere in his mid to late 40’s, but at this point he doesn’t even know how old he actually is, though he has a good idea of the ballpark.

He did actually grow up at University Point, or at least near it, and he spent ages combing through the library and all the rotten wood so he could learn about the world. Was a real nerdy kid.

He grew up eating Mirelurk pretty regularly as a consequence of living near a nest of them. They would have to regularly hunt there in order to keep everyone safe, which meant getting creative with it!

After what Kellogg did to UP there’s almost no one left who can remember who he was before the Railroad. There might be some people who moved away before it was razed to the ground, or who might have gotten away with just their life, but Deacon hasn’t seen or met them around the wastes, so he’s them as dead.

This is kind of to my point with him: Deacon is liar, but he doesn’t intentionally lie about the big stuff. If any of this isn’t true it’s because he’s buried it deep in himself, or lord so many times, and so much time has passed that he’s reforged new details.

Yes, he’s never been to Greenland or been all the way over to the Mojave, but he had traveled a lot and heard countless stories! Always an element of truth to what he’s saying (but sometimes it takes a journey to get there).

Ah, and in case it’s not clear, Johnny D & Deacon are the same person! Deacon started as a Runner and then took the entire weight of the world on his shoulders, but he does genuinely kind’ve see Johnny D and those early versions of himself as a separate entity. He was different back then, and while he knows it was him it’s hard to internalize that it’s all the same story.

I’ve struggled a lot with my iteration of who I think Deacon is and what his backstory is! There’s a lot of different cool takes on his character, but I found that this is the iteration that feels most true to him for me. I love different versions of him! But this is my him.

MacCready

Same Lucy from his childhood. I know it’s not technically canon, but I think it’s better if they’re one and the same.

His parents are absolute no bodies. People who are either dead or ad good as dead. Never meets them again nor does he want to, but he did runaway to get away from them when he was six or five years old.

Caravan so a dying child on the ground and dropped him off at Little Lamplight. Would’ve died of dehydration if they hadn’t found him.

LW was his hero growing up and they were actually really close! As a byproduct of that he got to know some of the people around her, mainly Butch & Charon.

The BoS, a couple years after he left, cleared out Little Lamplight and took in most of them to become apart of the army. It was pretty brutal. There’s a lot of reasons he’s not a fan of them, but this ranks pretty high up there.

I think by the time we see him in Goodneighbor he’s been in the Commonwealth for at least a year if not a little more, and he’s been out of work for three of those months. Dropped off when he figured out they did shit like what they did to Quincy.

I forgot who, but someone said something about there being a bunch of different bounties on Deacon’s head and MacCready being the only one to realize it’s all the same guy. I feeeeeel like that’s probably true, but I also like the idea that they’ve run into each other a lot for a variety of reasons, and now Mac has started to put together an idea of how to spot him. Mac’s seen him in the Capitol Wasteland and all over the Commonwealth. Mac thinks he’s annoying and creepy, but the rapport (especially as time goes on) only gets better generally speaking.

Like I said this list isn’t exhaustive, and I might even add onto it with time, but it felt like something fun to publish while I work on other stuff! I don’t really feel as tho any of these are particularly groundbreaking or super original, but I think it’s usually about the execution than just the idea of what it could be.

[venerable-sun]

La Danse Macabre (Ticci Toby x Reader)

Everyone must meet you, in the end. A Creepypasta x Death!Reader story.

TW: Mentions of violence, gore, and overall very dark themes. If you are uncomfortable in any way with the thought of what comes after life, I would not recommend reading.

A/N: This is a fic I wrote about two years ago, originally published on Quotev. I am aware that the creator of the character of Ticci Toby does not desire for anyone to use him in content, but seeing as this fic has existed on the internet for two years- I am merely just reposting it here. This is part one of a series involving various Creepypasta characters and the reader, the personification of death.

The first time you meet, Toby mistakes you for an angel.

You gaze down at him through shattered glass and twisted metal with nothing but pity in your eyes. Even as the car burns around him, all he wants to do is continue looking upon your beauty. His breath catches in his throat as you reach towards him, a dainty hand emerging from your billowing robes.

Toby prays you will grace him with your touch, but he is not what you have come for. Only then does he become aware of his sister slumped against his side, her head lolling forward at an unnatural angle.

That can’t be comfortable, Toby thinks as he watches you brush away the hair stuck to Lyra’s forehead. A red substance trickles from her nose, but he pays no mind to it as you press three fingertips to her skin. When you withdraw them, a gold light follows, morphing around your fingers in warm whisps. They settle into a glowing orb that floats in your palm, its soft light illuminating the sharp features of your face before you tuck your hand into your robes once more.

Where are you taking her? Toby wants to ask, the words unwilling to spill out. His desperate eyes lock with yours. Take me with you!

As if you heard his plea, you shake your head once softly. A sad smile twists your lips as you take a step back.

Please don’t leave me! Toby tries to shout. All he can manage is a garbled groan, his dry throat constricting with the effort. He blinks and you’re gone, not a single trace of you left behind.

Despair takes over him, and the next thing he’s aware of is the harsh fluorescent light of his hospital room beating down on him. His mother is in the chair beside his bed, her fingers interwoven tightly in his own.

He barely registers her words as she tells him of the accident, the fire, his sister. Numbness creeps over his senses, until the memory of your face gazing upon him is all he can see. 

~ 

The next time you meet, Toby believes you are the devil.

You are a shadow in his periphery from the moment his service to the Slenderman begins, a blight in the corner of his vision that disappears every time he turns his head.

He can always feel you there, watching him. He wants to hate you. A part of him does, if only for the fact that you left him to continue living alone. However, as time goes on and your presence becomes as familiar as a second skin, he finds himself doing just the opposite. You are the only thing that ties him to who he was before, the only thing that bridges his current life to his previous one.

It isn’t until one fateful night that you make yourself truly known.

Toby stands over the slaughtered family, blood dripping from his hatchets. He is breathing heavily, the strong scent of iron and tears filling the air. A little girl lays at his boots, her eyes blown wide in terror, her last scream forever frozen on her lips.

You morph into being from the shadows, bending down and closing her eyelids. Her soul is malleable and warm, glowing with a pale pink. Your heart is heavy as you tuck it into your robes.

“You are trying very hard to make me regret sparing your life,” You say, your gaze glued to the child’s face.

Toby scoffs, ignoring the twinge of guilt deep in his gut. “It sh-should have b-been me th-th-that day.”

“Do not play this game with me,” you warn, finally standing to face him. “You will lose.”

Last time he saw you fully, Toby thought you were his guardian angel finally showing yourself. He thought you bright and beautiful as the starlight. Now he knows you to be as terrible as the dawn. He holds your gaze defiantly even as desire sweeps through him.

You soften slightly, reaching up and cupping his cheek. He keens into your touch, twitching slightly. You sigh. Times like these make you detest the immortal blood running through your veins. “Life is a sacred gift, my love.” you say, your fingers deftly lowering his mouth guard. “Please don’t waste it.”

For once, Toby- shy, demure, Toby- is bold. He leans forward, capturing your lips with his. You taste of honey, you taste of wind. You taste of all that has been and all that will be, and he would gladly drown in it forever, as long as it was by your side.

You reluctantly pull away, the moment having gone on too long. You can feel the souls from around the world crying out for you, begging for their release.

“Will I see you again?” Toby asks hopefully.

You bow your head. “Not if you continue along your current path,” you whisper, your eyes filling with tears. They spill over as you meet his gaze once more, the edges of your form beginning to flicker. “You tread a way I cannot follow.”

With that, you are gone. Blood from the corpses at his feet pools in your place. They are the only thing that bear witness to his agonized screams. 

~

The last time you meet, you are his salvation. Toby stands with his back against the wall, shaking hands in the air. Spots of red dot his form as cops surround him, their guns primed and ready to fire.

You stand behind them, a shade in the mist, barely a whisper. He catches sight of you through the night, your eyes piercing even deeper than the first bullet does.

Time stills as you move towards him, picking your way to him with ease. You are just as beautiful as the day he first saw you. He watches your lips move, his name falling from your lips like a pour of sugar.

“Toby.”

Your voice carries to him over the din, and his eyes close in pleasure as the second bullet hits. His knees hit the ground with a thud, and he can barely register the shouts of the police through the roar in his ears. When he looks up, you are standing over him, your eyes filled with love and the secrets of the universe.

“It is time to go, my love.” You say, your three fingers coming to press against his forehead. He shudders at the impact of the third bullet, but still remains kneeling. 

“Will you keep me with you?” He asks, another bullet shattering through him. He falls backwards this time, the hard reality of the earth rising to greet him. His vision blurs until all he can see is your face close to his. You peck both his cheeks before finally settling your lips on his. With much strain, he weaves his fingers through your hair, holding you against him even as you pull his soul from his body.

It is so large you require both hands to hold its shimmering mass. Instead of placing it in your robe, you press it against your heart, allowing it to seep into you.

A translucent form of the corpse laying in front of you appears as he once did in life. Sleek brown hair flops in front of his handsome features, and a boyish smile tugs at his lips. He offers you a hand with flourish, eyes twinkling with mischief.

You take it with a smile, walking with him hand in hand into the stars.

“Always.”

[danses-with-dogmeat]

☠️🦖 "All you do is lie" for Deacon x f!sole?

Hurt me so good please. Congratulations!!

Well, you can't get much more perfect than this line for this character, so thank you for that!

And I will do my best. Again, I love Deacon, but I also love making him feel a little shitty. 😈

I hope you enjoy!

"Deacon? W-what are you doing here, are you... Were you following me?"

Deacon's jaw set, the action formally damning him as the hurt in Sole's eyes turned to embers of fury.

"What happened to you being busy? What happened to not having time for your partner, for having to 'go it alone?' All this time, you were just tracking me? Spying on me?"

Sole was nose to nose with him by the end of it, so close, they could make out the cool blue of his eyes beneath his darkened shades. As well as the guilt that shone within them.

"Danse," Sole turned their head slightly to the side, their gaze refusing to leave Deacon's as they spoke to their other companion. "Why don't you head into the airport. I'll be right behind you."

Even without looking, they could feel the Paladin's eyes narrow at their request.

"Very well, I'll do as you ask, just... Be careful. I don't trust this one."

"Yeah..." Sole said, more to Deacon than to Danse, "I'm starting to think I shouldn't either."

The heavy steps of Danse's power armor-laden form grew distant as he trekked back to the Brotherhood HQ, but still, the Railroad spy firmly held their gaze.

"All you do is lie to me, Deacon!" Sole burst out, their arms flailing in frustration, "Everything you said the last time we spoke, it was all just bullshit! Does this mean nothing to you?" They gestured to the pair of them, one finger poking uncomfortably into his chest as they did so. "Everything we've been through, all this time working at each other's sides, doesn't it make you feel like shit? Not having a friend in the world? Not having anyone you can trust? Anyone that you can actually be honest with? Or are you even capable of honesty anymore?"

"Trusting people is dangerous, Sole." Deacon spoke firmly, almost completely monotone. And Sole wasn't sure why, but that pissed them off even more. They opened their mouth to let him know as much, but Deacon continued before they could voice a thing.

"That's what I've been trying to teach you all this time. Can't you see that? It's because I- I care about you that I want to protect you from anyone that might try and take advantage of you," He gestured broadly to the large airport behind them, his meaning clear. "Anyone who might put you in danger, even unknowingly, and that includes me. But it also includes your laser pistol pals in the giant metal flying nightmare."

"This isn't about them, okay? I'm not just blindly trusting the Brotherhood, but after you blew me off, what the hell was I supposed to do?" Their voice rose an octave, a testament to their desperation, "You wouldn't help me, Deacon, and I need to get into the Institute, I need to find my son, and sever that horrible organization's hold on the Commonwealth for good. I thought that's what we both wanted, but then you made it clear you had other priorities."

"Sole, just because--"

"Other priorities that, I guess, included spying on me." They spat the word at him, and Deacon flinched at the malice. "You didn't need to sneak around, okay? I know it's what you're used to now, and all your anti-trust monologuing probably means you wouldn't believe me at all, but you could've just asked me what I was doing with Danse and the Brotherhood. I would've told you, and, because I'm not you, I would've been honest about it."

"Ouch, okay, I get it." His voice sounded stripped, like the overused scratchiness of an old holotape. "Just ask, yeah, that's always worked in the past."

"You didn't know me in the past, Deacon." Sole's tone wilted, the anger slowly draining out of them as their companion began to yield to their fury. "I'm not a cunning master of subterfuge and stratagem. I'm not your enemy. I'm your ally, and whether you say it or believe it or not, I'm your friend, too. I know this goes against everything you preach, but you can trust me."

He nodded to them without a word, and Sole couldn't help but notice the way something appeared to catch in his throat as he swallowed thickly.

"I-I know." He finally said after a long pause, where the dangerously electric energy in the air between them seemed to sizzle out into a pleasant hum. "That's what scares me about you. I'm not... Not used to it, is all."

One hand came up to rub at the back of his neck, a small grimace still present in his expression as he looked away from his companion's still-intense gaze.

"But I can try, you know? Can maybe give it a go again. This whole 'friendship' thing." He said with air quotes around the word that, coming from his mouth, sounded like a forbidden swear word.

"I'd like that..." Sole smiled at him, their expression finally soft enough for the spy to chance another glance into their bright eyes without fear of being burned.

"So then... if what you say is true, and I really can just ask you. What are you doing hanging out with these jarheads?"

"You were the one spying on me," They said with a teasing grin, "Why don't you tell me?"

"Okay, yeah, I deserve that." He chuckled, his shoulders finally relaxing from their previous tenseness. "And while I did have a few theories, I think I'd rather get it straight from the source. Save face, and all that, you know."

"Yeah, I think that's probably best too." Deacon grinned at that, an apologetic thing, but also one of familiar amusement.

"Really," You continued, "I just needed to borrow some power armor from them. I have a lead on how to get into the Institute, but... Yeah, it requires me not dying of radiation poisoning first, so..."

The Railroad agent chuckled a bit at their tone, the way their sarcasm rivalled even his own.

"Well, if it's power armor you want, that Paladin Danse guy sure as hell looks like the one to get it from."

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Hey! I just wanted to say you might want to update your bio(it still says you have 41 requests).and I was wondering if I could request Undertaker,Sebastian,and Claude with a female s/o who isn’t afraid of dying?like she’ll literally do the most dangerous stuff and not even be afraid of death.thank you!and I love your blog by the way 💕

AH YEAH I keep forgetting to update that thing! I changed it when I first got back and had 98 requests but haven’t updated it since then... I’ll try to be a bit more consistent with it, if I keep struggling I might take it away and just let people guess on how many I have at any given time XD

anyway!! this was a good one, very thought provoking~

and thank you!!! <3 <3 <3

Ah, well. That explains why she fell for him, at least; she’s infinitely closer to death when she’s next to him than in almost any other situation. Although he loves her and always does his best to protect her, it’s just a fact that the constant threat of death hangs over the head of anyone who ties themself to a demon. He finds her almost amusing in a way… a novelty of sorts. There haven’t been many humans he’s encountered like her. She’s not afraid, but she’s also not desperate like the humans who have made contracts with him have been. Although she may rush headfirst into danger (likely where he, the other servants, or their master are concerned, to keep safe her family), she can rest assured that her fearlessness doesn’t mean he won’t be at her side. They face the Danse Macabre together, or not at all.

Hmm, what an exquisitely brave lady he has on his arm. A rare will such as hers is something which always fascinates him, endlessly, even though he may not say as much out loud most of the time. Humans as a whole are quite entertaining, but to find one like her who isn’t afraid to charge into something dangerous, take a risk… he feels lucky indeed. A quiet part of him wonders if she knows just how admiring a gaze he often casts upon her. She’s special, that much is for certain. There’s no doubt at all that she enjoys being with her, watching just how far she’ll go. How far would you go if I asked you to? he wants to say sometimes. What recklessness would you run into for my sake? If your self-preservation instincts are none in the best of times, how much more could you be willing to face? Of course… he still has a duty to her. Whether she likes it or not, he’s stronger than she is, and he will never get to see how deep her fearlessness runs; he comes to her rescue without fail.

Hee-hee, she’s rather a bold one! Isn’t she just darling? So terribly unafraid of something which ought to terrify her to no end. It’s only natural for humans to be frightened of death, and to see someone who’s plainly not bothered is something which piques his interest. Not only that, her sweet company is his, which he’s grateful for. He does get awfully lonely and the day-to-day can be dull occasionally… he’s got her for laughs, and for just sitting round with each other. Despite that he acts as if she’s the greatest joke ever told, sometimes her lack of worry for her own life does give him a scare. After losing so many people, he doesn’t want her to be another one. He can’t bear to lose anyone else, least of all his beloved. If she doesn’t stop plunging herself into the wealth of hazards which surrounded the two of them, she might well become his next Bizarre Doll.

[watchyourdigits]

oh no

I'm having a really hard time writing the next chapter of my Mac/Eve fic. like... ouchh. I am frustrated beyond belief at this point.

Somehow I've managed to lose all of the Evelyn momentum and have completely lost my characterization of her. Like, she's already slipping through my fingers and I'm literally on chapter five (5). This is incredibly fucking tragic and unlike anything I've ever experienced with Frankie and Danse.

Like, with the other fic I'm working on, Frankie is very multi-faceted, but he's also openly so. Evelyn is multi-faceted, but a lot more tormented at her core so she'd very *tight* and generally hard to read.

(TW: mentions of abuse ahead)

Not to mention, she's explored entirely through MacCready's observance of her. Frankie just kind of gets to exist as himself, unrestricted for the most part. I've long since opened up any "hidden" parts of him, thought they weren't central to his personality per se. Like, he is who he says he is and nothing less. Frankie was only hiding where he came from. Whereas Evelyn is hiding HERSELF as a whole (though not really tbh because she doesn't know who she even is).

She's breaking down far too quickly and I'm forgetting how to write her as the closed book, "rage and fury are my only emotions" character she's intended to be at this point. She's hard to love and very hesitant to reciprocate in kind, but MacCready is absolutely entranced with her. He finds beauty in the way she moves and how she holds herself in the world. She's brutal, but effortlessly so. She's learned how to preserve herself in the face of her many traumas. He's supposed to peel back her layers, getting under her skin in ways she doesn't anticipate, and slowly discover who SHE is even if she doesn't realize it herself yet.

It's a mutual journey, one they have together, because Mac just being so unashamedly himself rubs off on her. She realizes the possibility of just letting oneself experience and enjoy things for the sake of it. She's basically discovering the world (and herself) through him and his occasionally childlike affinities. All the while, he bears witness to her pain through the way she razes everything around her to the ground in a desperate ploy to feel like she has SOME semblance of control.

It's meant to be tragic and painful, because this is a story based on healing and creating oneself from scratch basically (specifically after suffering long-term abuse). And it's also deeply personal to my own life and current relationship vs my past ones. Like, I'm still working on coming out of my shell and finding who I am. And this is the better half of a decade AFTER my own abuse. This fic has been very therapeutic to work on, but from the perspective of characterization I'm losing Eve and it's killing me.

I think the only way to proceed is to retain the basic Sole Survivor backstory, but remove Shaun from the equation entirely as it's putting too much pressure to move the story along. The character development is meant to take place over a longer period of time, with Stuff happening that drives it home, yet I feel it's moving way too fast due to the plot in and of itself.

Of course I want the Institute to be a central Bad Guy, but this needs to all unfold over the course of about two years. Like, preparations for war and all that don't happen overnight. For example, the Brotherhood rebuilding Prime as a relatively new faction in the Commonwealth with little to no outside help is something that, in real time, would take years. I think a group like the RR or Minutemen who don't have some major War Machine to rebuild could prepare in less time than that, but still.

It's already been a few months time in my fic and I'm like ???? this isn't working for me. I always feel the plot breathing down my neck and it's really ruining this fic in particular 🫡🫡

[kuroopaisen]

brat || gojou satoru

➵ gojou wants you to pay attention to him. and no, he doesn’t care about how annoying he’s being. 

wc: 2k

warnings: gn!reader, gojou is Annoying, mild spoilers i guess? 

a/n: hi welcome to my gojou brainrot i would like to escape and yet i cannot,,, will i deliver more mindless fanfic? who knows! 

You sigh, turning the page of your book with an exhausted kind of resignation. Had you even comprehended what’s in the last paragraph? Or had you just let your eyes gloss over it, admiring the shape of the letters without actually taking any of them in?

Reading a book isn’t so difficult under normal circumstances; sure, you’ve got your own concentration to wrestle with, but that’s an (occasionally) tameable beast.

The man sprawled on the couch next to you, however, is not.

“Are you done yet?” Gojou hums, sticking his legs straight up in the air.

“I’ll be done sooner if you shut up,” you mumble, starting from the top of the page for what feels like the thirty-second time in the past five minutes.

Gojou’s not handling the boredom well. He’s spent the past five minutes cycling between humming Danse Macabre in an octave too high to be comfortable while swinging his legs in circles and poking your cheek as he crouches next to you on his knees.

“You’re the one who said I could come over,” he chirps, completely unfazed by your words.

“I never said that,” you mumble.

It’s not a lie. Earlier today, Gojou’d asked if you were going out tonight. You’d said no. He’d decided to take that as permission to crash at your place.

Although the onus is at least a little on you; he has a habit of doing things like this. You’ve got to be one step ahead of him if you want to win against him on a petty debate like that.

A head of white hair wriggles its way onto your lap.

“Satoru?”

“Hm?”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m bored,” he hums.

That much is obvious. But you know it’s not that simple; he’s bored, yes, but more importantly, he wants your attention. Even your chest flutters at that.

“You’re a grown man,” you smile. “Entertain yourself.”

A well-worn coquettish smile plays on his lips. “I can’t tell if you’re being lewd or not.”

You slap his chest.

“Ow!” He gasps, placing a hand over his heart. “I can’t believe you’d be so cruel to me!”

“Then stop being annoying.”

“I’d like to think I’m ‘charmingly playful’.”

“Do you take constructive criticism?” You tilt your head at him, biting back a smile.

“I would,” he muses, “if I weren’t already perfect.”

“That ego of yours is going to get you into serious trouble one day,” you grin, flicking his forehead gently.

He lets you, grinning back. “Ah, but you see, my dear,” he hums, grabbing your hand before you draw it away and lacing your fingers with his. It’s a bit of an awkward angle, but you don’t mind.

“I’m simply stating the truth.”

“Well, the truth hurts,” you mutter, “so it’s no surprise no-one wants to hear you gassing yourself up.”

Gojou laughs. His hair tickles your inner thighs and you’re almost convinced to give in. But it wouldn’t be good form to feed his ego after chiding him for it.

You’re well-aware his ego’s already gotten him in trouble – many times, in fact. But Gojou seems to have a way of wheedling his way out of anything.

And, of course, you know that his ego doesn’t come from nowhere.

Doesn’t stop it from being annoying, though. The fact it’s at least partially well-founded makes it worse.

You take a deep breath, turning your attention back to this blasted book. Gojou will just have to wait.

“Why are you even reading that brick?” He muses, tapping the bottom of the book’s spine with one long finger. “You look bored out of your mind. And, you’ve been on the same page for the past five minutes.”

“You know,” you tilt your head to the side, a sour look on your face. “‘Adult stuff.’ Upskilling and all that.”

“Ah,” Gojou grins. “Career work.”

“Mhm,” you sigh. “And some of us can’t just learn on the job.”

Although, you ponder, the thought blurred with gentle melancholy, some of us aren’t constantly risking our lives.

Gojou always tells you not to worry; he’s the strongest jujutsu sorcerer there is, after all. But even that’s not enough to lull you into an uneasy sleep, to bring you warmth when your bed is cold.

You’re never truly at ease until you feel him slip into your bed in the early hours of the morning, his arms slinking around your waist and pulling you towards him. It’s like clockwork how he buries his head in your shoulder as every muscle in his body relaxes. He always thinks you’re asleep – and honestly, it’s easier to let him keep believing that.

What you’ve got isn’t exactly a ‘relationship’. At least, not in the most traditional sense of the word. Gojou’s never pretended to offer you that. But it’s not so simple as a ‘friends-with-benefits’ arrangement.

Gojou Satoru doesn’t suit the domestic. But he relishes in it, the same way a child might enjoy playing at high tea with little plastic teacups and cupcakes made of playdough. Some might find this frustrating – the idea of existing in this grey, a dark, nebulous unknown stippled with moments of affection and vulnerability.

But there’s still comfort in it; a sense of understanding, a place to let loose and relax. Being part of this world is hard. It’s so cruel – sending children out to fight things they barely comprehend, letting them suffer and even die. And what do they have to show for it? A future of doing the same thing while also having to navigate just how shit the world of sorcerers truly is?

Why aren’t more of your colleagues angry about this? One counsellor isn’t enough to maintain the wellbeing of these children. Do the higher-ups even care? Well, you know the answer to that question – it’s enough to make you want to throttle each and every one of them—

“Hey.”

You clatter back to earth, met by a pair of electric blue eyes. It’s easy to forget just how striking they are; it’s like they can stare right into your very core, laying out secrets you never even knew you had.

“Hm?” You blink at him. You can’t risk him knowing you’re worried. He doesn’t stand for that sort of thing; he’ll just tease you for being concerned about him. Though, you’re well-aware that he enjoys being doted on.

“You’re spacing out,” he smiles. “Again.”

Sure, he sounds like he’s joking. But even he can’t disguise that little flash in his eyes, the slight tension in his face. It’s the same expression he has when he talks about that new student of his.

Gojou understands you better than you’d like. Every little tell, every tiny hint towards what you’re actually thinking. It’s near impossible to hide anything from him; it’s irritating, really.

But, at least he’s got the decency to leave the direction of the conversation in your hands.

You weigh it for a moment, deciding how exactly to respond. Should you play it off and throw his brattiness back in his face? Or should you pry open that conversation like the doors of an old temple?

Today’s not the day. Neither of you are ready for that.

You stick your tongue out at him. Perhaps it’s not how an adult should behave, but you don’t care. Neither does Gojou.

“I think,” he sighs, plucking the book out of your hands and tossing it across the room, “it’s time you took a break.”

You yelp a moment too late, watching your book slap against the wall and flop to the floor. It’s only a paperback – thank God – but you’re not ready to fix another dent in the wall caused by the force of mayhem known as Gojou Satoru.

“And I have been waiting long enough,” he grins, wrapping his arms around your neck and launching forward.

“Satoru—”

It’s too late. He’s got you pinned beneath him – and not in a sexy way. All six feet and three inches of him is laid flat on top of you, your face smothered by his chest.

You punch his side weakly.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” he laughs.

“Fine,” you try to say. All you get is a mouthful of Gojou’s shirt. You slip your hands up said shirt and tickle his sides.

“Hey, hey, hey—” He splutters, grabbing at your wrists.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” You smirk, continuing your assault.

Gojou whines, propping himself up by his palms and arching his back like a cat in an attempt to shake you off.

“Get back here,” you grin, lifting your torso in response.

His arms are immediately wrapped around you, pinning your own arms to your sides. You yelp in surprise, finding yourself laid gently against the couch with your face pressed against his neck.

“Much better,” Gojou chuckles, still on top of you as he nestles his head into your shoulder.

It’s not the most comfortable position, but that’s rarely a priority when it comes to Gojou. You wouldn’t be surprised if this wasn’t just his way of goading you into relocating to your bed for ease of cuddling (although you have your doubts that it’s the only thing on his mind).

“You want attention that bad, huh?” You chuckle, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck.

“Mhm,” he smirks, bringing his head up to get a proper look at you. “I’m a busy man, you know. I don’t think you’re appreciating my free time enough.”

“And yet, you never seem to leave my damn house,” you muse. “I’m starting to think you don’t actually have a job.”

Gojou laughs, leaning down and kissing you properly.

“That’s not an answer,” you say against his lips.

He ignores you, taking the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You sigh, conceding. His lips are so soft yet so persistent, somehow both desperate and playful. He’s aggravatingly good at this sort of thing – before Gojou, you didn’t really understand what it meant to be a ‘good kisser’. But of course, he manages to excel at this, too. And annoyingly enough, he’d been right to brag about it.  

He brings one hand up to cup your cheek and moves another down to your waist. It’s a surprisingly chaste move for him, but you don’t mind. You tangle your own hands in his hair, resisting the urge to tug it. If you do that, you’ll officially lose any chance of getting more reading done tonight. Although your ability to focus on anything other than him is waning quickly.

When Gojou pulls back, he’s got that look in his eyes. The one that always makes your cheeks flush, makes your heart feel a little lighter. The one that almost makes you say something stupid.

Thank God you always have your wits about you.

“You get five minutes,” you sigh. “And then you’ve got to let me finish the chapter I’m on, okay? Then I’m all yours.”

Gojou’s grin blossoms with delight.

He slots himself beneath your chin and rests his cheek against your chest. A hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You smile, propping your chin on the top of his head and wrapping your arms around him.

Despite all his big talk, his irksome demeanour, even his obnoxious height, Gojou Satoru loves to be held.

You always oblige. He never asks – that’s too close to admitting weakness.

But you understand. He needs this. Sometimes he just wants to be tended to.

Being let in like this is an honour. He’s letting you be part of his life, despite his grand plans. Plans that, when he’d told you them, shifted your whole understanding of him.

Gojou represents change.

You have to have faith in him. You have to believe he’ll make good on his promises and turn the sorcerer world on its head. It’s no easy burden; and despite what he claims, even he falters in the face of something so monumental.

But despite all that, he’s still him. He hasn’t let the weight of his goals crush him; at least, not entirely. He finds the little joys, indulges in mundane delights, sees the humour in things.

Gojou Satoru wants to change the world, but he still lets himself be a part of it.

Perhaps that’s why it’s so easy to love him.

Even if he can’t offer the stability and promise of a stable relationship.

Even if he’s a little brat.

[that-blue-vault-dweller]

Ok a break from sadness, companions react to sole being a doctor? not just any doc, but one that can make really good prosthetics?

Ooh, I really like this!!! 🥰

Thank you for the request!! I hope you enjoy! 💙💛

Cait - Honestly is not too affected by the knowledge. She's obviously really pleased that F!Sole is more than capable to put her back together if the situation calls for it. But it is not something that she regularly thinks about when she sees F!Sole. To her, F!Sole is just the same as she was before Cait found out about her ability.

Piper - Loves the fact that she has such an incredible friend who has such a wonderful talent to help so many people. She proudly writes an article about her in Publick Occurrences whenever she finds out, and Piper talks about how F!Sole is the biggest genius that she knows. She also writes plenty of pieces about the instances that F!Sole has medically helped people that needed it, and she is sure to gush over her amazing, giving heart.

Curie - Suddenly feels so much more relieved about the prospect of having one of her limbs blown off. She definitely is going to do all that she can to avoid that scenario, but she definitely feels a lot better knowing that she is such close friends with someone who can give her a wonderful replacement that is as close to real life as it comes. She also asks F!Sole if she would be willing to teach her how to make these wonderful miracles.

MacCready - Thinks that it is really awesome that she knows how to do all of that stuff. He doesn't think she should waste her time on people that would not give her a second thought outside of what she can do for them, but he does like how she is kind enough to try to make prosthetics for anyone that wants them from her.

Deacon - Asks her if she can make one that could work as an overlay for his actual leg. He would love to look like he had a prosthetic leg without actually having one. It would greatly assist him in looking completely different from himself while he is undercover. He also sees its incredible possibility to benefit Railroad members, so he suggests that she work with Carrington and Tinker Tom to teach them how to make prosthetics as well.

Codsworth - Already knew about her capabilities, but he is proud nonetheless. He particularly likes how she is sharing her gift and her knowledge with the Commonwealth. He desperately hopes that she will bring some of the humanity that was before the bombs to today's wasteland world.

Hancock - Thinks that she is even more incredible than he thought. He will waste no time in bragging to the people throughout Goodneighbor about the best person he knows and how she can almost magically work miracles and make people walk again. It's a little over-the-top, but then again, that's just how he rolls.

Danse - Feels that she is an even greater asset to the Brotherhood. He is fascinated by her ability to replicate life so well and to help people. He is very proud to introduce her to the Brotherhood as not only a great fighter but also as a great doctor. He believes that she could teach Knight-Captain Cade quite a few things that could help soldiers with missing limbs and whatnot.

Preston - Is absolutely pleased as can be to have a General who is not only the most incredible fighter and the most good-hearted person he has ever met but also is the best doctor he has ever seen. He asks her if she would be willing to share her creations with the Minutemen and help all of those fighters that have lost so that they might could regain some amount of movement or convenience that they had before. He also asks if she would be willing to teach.

Valentine - Feels a lot better about going out into dangerous situations. If she can make prosthetics, then she can definitely fix synth limbs. However, she does not let him think for one moment that he has an excuse to be more reckless than he already is. He promises to be careful still, even though he knows that if the situation requires it, she has him covered.

X6-88 - Finds it to be quite fascinating and wonders how she came to know so much about advanced prosthetics with only Pre-War advancements. The Institute, despite being much more advanced in many ways from a Pre-War world, still has not managed to master prosthetics. He asks her if she would be willing to explain to Institute doctors about her ways.

Strong - Does not really understand the concept. When super-mutant brother or tiny human loses leg or arm, it is just the way it is. They don't just get a new one. In fact, he has seen super-mutant brothers kill or leave behind other brothers when they lose a limb, so he believes that is the appropriate way to handle such things.

Maxson - Thinks that her ability is absolutely remarkable, and he even privately requests that she make leg prosthetics for Proctor Ingram. It would allow her a significant amount of mobility and some convenience that she has not possessed since she lost her legs, and it would make him very happy to be able to gift her such a thing since she does so much for the Brotherhood.

Sturges - Honestly is absolutely impressed. Of course, being a doctor is enough to make him think that she is a genius. And as a person who works with machines and whatnot, the fact that she is able to make prosthetics and "fix" people is utterly incredible to him. He is always in awe when he sees her at work, and he sort of wishes he knew how to do that himself even if he does believe that it is beyond his skill level.

Glory - Is shocked, but she takes it in stride. It's honestly not that big of a deal for her, but she does occasionally like to put Carrington in his place and tell him that F!Sole can do something he can't. He is sometimes way too unpleasant toward F!Sole, and she takes any opportunity she can to prove to him that F!Sole is actually a really decent person.

[persephone-plasmids]

Debriefing

Deacon and Sole fanfic.

[AO3]

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

Debriefing

Deacon and Sole walked in complete  silence through the abandoned Nuka-World park. Not because they were worried they’d attract the attention of ferals, but because neither of them seemed to be mature enough to address the incredible kiss they’d both just shared. Of course, nearly having Sole kill him when she got poisoned by HalluciGen and meeting a super dramatic Ghoul named Oswald had also distracted them. But Deacon was fairly certain the kiss was the real reason for the silent treatment he was currently getting.

I shouldn’t have done it, Deacon thought to himself. Although even as he thought this, his mind replayed the sensation of Sole’s lips against his and he felt his cheeks flush.

Sole was walking ever-so-slightly ahead of him, her hips swaying back and forth in a way that Deacon tried to ignore.

Right. He needed to fix this. To get things back to normal.

“Hey Charmer, did I ever tell you about the time I went undercover as Magnolia for an entire week?”

Sole slowed her pace a bit so that Deacon could fall in step beside her. “Go on,” she said, raising an eyebrow with an amused look in her eye.

“I did the whole shebang. Donned the red dress, wore a black wig, sang all the songs.”

“Flirted with the patrons?” She asked.

“That was my favorite part,” Deacon said. “You wouldn't believe how many free drinks I got that week. It’s amazing what people will do for a pretty face.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Sole’s lips, but the action just brought Deacon’s attention right back to the very area he was trying to forget.

He cleared his throat nervously before continuing. “I'll tell you, though. I’m not a fan of shaving my legs. I could never quite get that little area behind my knee.”

At this, Sole snorted, trying to suppress her laugh and failing miserably. “How do you even come up with these ridiculous lies?”

She still wasn’t looking at him, but he preferred it that way. If she wasn’t looking at him, then they weren’t in danger of suddenly kissing each other.

“Who says that’s a lie?” Deacon asked, his voice easily slipping back into its smooth unconcerned cadence.

“Literally anyone who’s ever met you,” she said, looking down at the ground as they walked. “I can read you most of the time. But I’m finding it harder and harder these days.”

“Oh?” Deacon asked.

He wanted to know what she’d meant by that, but he never did get his answer. Instead, he heard the familiar clomp, clomp, clomp of power armor approaching them. Deacon rolled his eyes at the Paladin’s lack of subtlety and Sole moved a bit further away from Deacon.

The motion would have been almost imperceptible to anyone but him. But it still gave him complicated feelings. Was he hurt that she didn’t want to be seen being this familiar with him? Or did it give him hope that she was feeling that same connection to him, even if she was trying to ignore it.

“Soldier,” Danse said, nodding to Sole before turning to Deacon. “Liar.”

“Ouch,” Deacon said, placing a hand over his heart and stumbling back a few paces dramatically. “Shots fired, Paladin. Right out the gate too.”

“Told you everyone knows you’re a liar,” Sole said under her breath, grinning as she looked at Danse.

MacCready appeared suddenly beside Danse, out of breath and wiping blood from his hands. “There’s a serious Bloodworm infestation here. I think we should get out of Dry Rock Gulch. It’s not worth the effort.”

“That’s just as well,” Sole said. “The Synth isn’t in Nuka-World. They’ve already made it out of The Commonwealth.”

“Is that so?” Danse asked. “Outstanding!”

“Bingo!” Deacon shouted.

Everyone stopped and turned to look at him in confusion.

“Danse said ‘outstanding’. That’s the last square I needed on my boy scout bingo card.”

No one said anything. Instead, Sole’s cheeks immediately flushed a dark shade of scarlet as her eyes grew as wide as saucers. She stared at Deacon in horror and had she not immediately looked away from him again, he would have thought there was a Deathclaw behind him.

Danse cleared his throat uncomfortably before Sole began loudly speaking. “So, I think we’re all done here. The Synth is safe and we’re all alive. Let’s head out.”

Sole’s voice sounded unnatural. And the way Danse turned away from Deacon with a stronger look of annoyance on his face than normal, told him that something was wrong.

As Sole and Danse began walking away, Mac sidled up beside Deacon and said in a low voice, “Not really your color, is it?” Before snickering and joining Sole and the tin can.

Deacon brought his hand up to his lips. When he pulled them away, he could see that they were stained with Sole’s red lipstick.

“Perfect,” he groaned.

--------

Things back at Railroad HQ had been normal when Sole and Deacon returned to report to Desdamona. Painfully normal. The kind of normal you got when you were trying too hard to make things seem normal. Sole was still avoiding eye contact with Deacon, but when she thought he wasn’t looking, he’d catch her staring.

Again, his sunglasses proved beneficial for more than just his Railroad missions.

“Thank you both for your continued efforts on behalf of The Railroad,” Desdemona said, after they’d given her the news concerning the Synth in Nuka-World. “Charmer, you’re getting much more efficient in your debriefings.”

“Charmer can debrief me any time,” Deacon said, giving her finger guns as Sole just shook her head in exasperation.

“Deacon, do I need to refresh your memory on the no fraternization rule?” Desdamona asked.

“Oh come on, that was funny,” Deacon insisted.

“Deacon?” Desdamona was still waiting for him to answer.

“No Des. I’ll do my best to shield your ears from my incredible wit. But just know you’ll be missing out.”

“I think I’ll survive,” Des said shortly. “You’re both dismissed.”

And with that, the imposing woman walked away.

“Sheesh, tough crowd,” Deacon said, pulling on the collar of his white shirt for effect as he smiled over at Sole.

“I mean… she is right though,” Sole said, looking down at her hands instead of at Deacon. “We probably shouldn’t joke about stuff like that.”

“Are you… we joke about that kind of stuff all the time,” Deacon said incredulously. “I mean… if it makes you uncomfortable of course I’ll stop. I just… thought that was sort of our thing.”

Deacon could feel his cheeks heating up as he desperately tried to save the situation. If Sole was uncomfortable with their joking, it was news to him. She was usually the one to start the innuendos. But he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.

The kiss may have tarnished their friendship a bit, mostly because it made it impossible for Deacon to keep lying to himself about his feelings. But he didn’t want it to completely ruin what they already had.

“I just… don’t want people to talk,” Sole said simply, still looking down at her hands.

“Yeah, of course, Boss. Whatever you say,” Deacon answered, rubbing the back of his neck before trying to assume a nonchalant posture. “Just trying to keep things light. I’ll resort to the old failsafes instead. You know… the nuclear apocalypse… the hopelessness of our existence… Danse’s extensive grooming routine.”

Sole almost smiled at this last bit. He could tell from the way her jaw tensed. But instead of smiling she just nodded. “Thanks, Deeks.”

Without another word, Sole gave Deacon a curt smile, turned on her heel, and walked away, leaving him totally and utterly confused about where they stood.

Idiot, he thought. Did I seriously think I could kiss Sole without things getting weird? Do I really want to throw away my closest friendship just because I… what? Feel something for her? Big deal. I feel something for Fancy Lad Snack Cakes and I’m not making moves on them.

Deacon refrained from letting out the gigantic sigh that had settled in his chest, not wanting to draw attention to himself. Instead, he ducked into the escape tunnel and out the back door into the small underground room just beyond the main section of Railroad HQ.

Pulling out a cigarette, Deacon nearly jumped out of his skin when Sole lit a match beside him.

“Geez! Are you kidding me?” Deacon whisper-shouted at her, jumping back against the wall and hitting his head in the process.

He dropped his unlit cigarette to the ground and rubbed the back of his head where it had made contact with the bricks.

“I thought you were always aware of your surroundings.”

“And I thought you were a baby Deathclaw about to drag me off to mommy like a bleeding morbid trophy,” he said, still whisper-shouting. “Why are you back here, Sole?”

“I needed some alone time,” she said, her face slightly amused as she watched him come down from his scare. “And then you just followed right behind me.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Deacon said. “I didn’t even see you come back here. Trust me, I don’t go around looking for humiliation more than once a day.”

“Excuse me?” Sole asked, her eyes narrowing at his words.

Deacon swallowed, realizing he was being too honest again. He didn’t want her to know he was hurt. Hell, he didn’t even want her to know he had actual feelings for her.

“I mean… I have gone looking for humiliation in the past,” he began, trying to think up a lie funny enough to distract Sole from his honesty. “Like this one time--.”

“Deacon, stop,” Sole said, shaking her head. “Sorry, I just… I can’t do this.”

“Yep, no problem,” Deacon said automatically, without really knowing what she was talking about specifically.

Odds were, he probably didn’t want to know. He’d made a point of detaching himself from the people around him. It was a necessity in The Railroad. But it had also been crucial for his survival after Barbara. Sole broke down that resolve and made him feel out of control in a way that he both loved and hated.

Sole turned to leave but stopped herself and instead faced Deacon once more, looking at the ground with a deep sigh.

“I’m just going to say it, okay?” she began, now looking up to meet his eyes before frowning. “Geez, Deeks, will you please take those sunglasses off so I can actually see you?”

Panic.

He needed his sunglasses. Otherwise Sole might find out just what a terrible bluffer he actually was.

“You know what? Never mind. This might actually be easier if I can’t see you.”

Her words were doing nothing to comfort him and he was desperately trying to quell the mild panic attack that was rising in his chest. “Sole, if I’m dying, you really need to just rip off the bandaid and tell me.”

He grinned at her, but they both knew it was a facade to mask his panic.

“I appreciate you telling me about Barbara. That took a lot of trust to open up to me about her.”

Well this wasn’t looking good.

“And I felt instantly connected to you because of it. We… we both knew what it was like to experience loss.” Sole frowned but pushed through it. “And honestly, after everything with Nate, I didn’t think I’d ever… feel anything for someone again.”

Deacon had to stop this conversation. He’d made her uncomfortable. And he hated himself for that.

“You don’t need to say anything else, Boss. I got it loud and clear,” Deacon said.

But Sole wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily.

“I don’t think you do,” Sole said. “I get that you flirt. It’s what you do. And it was always fine with me but… I can’t keep putting myself out there just to find out that this whole thing is a big joke to you. I’m not like that. It… it hurts too much.”

Deacon’s heart twisted inside of him. Had he misunderstood this situation completely? There was no way. Because as much as he’d dreamed about Sole reciprocating his feelings, he never thought it would actually happen.

Deacon had been a bigot back in his youth. Someone had died. He’d been a violent man. Sure he’d changed, but there was no way someone as good as Sole would be able to look completely past that. She may say his past wasn’t important, but she was just being polite. That’s who Sole was.

There was no way she could ever truly forgive him. He knew that. And he didn’t think he’d deserve that kind of forgiveness even if she did offer it.

“I respect you too much to break up our team, because we really do work well together… I just need the flirting to stop,” Sole said, looking down at her hands again as she twisted them together. “I want… I want you, Deacon. And it’s fine that I can’t have you. Really. I can learn to live with that. I’m a big girl. But… I’m not good at differentiating your joking with what’s real. I never have been. You know that.”

Deacon was staring at Sole now with the most shocked expression he’d ever worn.

She was saying that she had feelings for him. Wasn’t she?

Of course, he could just ask her for clarification, but that went against every instinct inside of him that was screaming at him to make a joke.

He realized a bit too late that he had been staring at her in silence for quite a while. She looked up at him uncomfortably with a wince. “So… are we good?” she asked. “Even though… you know… I just told you I have a crush on you like some five-year-old on the playground?”

There it was. The confirmation.

Deacon’s mouth might have actually dropped open in shock. He wasn’t sure.

“Okay, well… this has been sufficiently awkward. But I said what I needed to say. So…” she gave him a soft awkward slug on the shoulder. “Good talk, Sport.”

She instantly shook her head in embarrassment at her own words.

“Yeah, I’m going to leave now,” she mumbled, ducking her head down and turning to walk away.

“Wait, hold up just a minute,” Deacon said, finally regaining control of his brain. At least partially.

Sole turned around slowly and reluctantly.

“I swear if you make fun of me for this, Deeks, I will fill your pillowcase with cayenne pepper while you sleep.”

“Whoa,” he said, raising his hands up in surrender. “That escalated way faster than it probably should have.”

Deacon reached down and hesitantly took Sole’s hand in his own.

“I just… are you actually saying you have feelings for me?” Deacon asked.

Sole’s cheeks flushed at his straightforward words. Deacon was never straightforward. Except for the time he’d told Sole about Barbara.

“Seriously, Deacon? You’re going to make me say it again?”

“You feel things for me?” Deacon repeated, trying to rephrase his question so that there was no confusion. He wasn’t doing a great job. “Not like the way Danse has feelings for his power armor, right?”

“I mean, I’ve seen the way he looks at his power armor. So, maybe,” Sole said, that ghost of a smile returning to her lips. “Seriously, can I go now? I don’t know that I’ve ever felt this humiliated. This is worse than the dream where I show up to school naked.”

Deacon’s eyes grew wide behind his sunglasses at this statement. “Okay, well I’d definitely like to hear more about that in a minute,” Deacon began. “But I just… I feel like I need to be absolutely certain. You, the perfect, beautiful, compassionate, smart, brave, sexy, savior of The Commonwealth, have romantic feelings towards a former-bigot, current-man-child, broken, immature, and hopelessly lost human?”

Realization seemed to dawn on Sole in that moment. At his words she could see the insecurity dripping off of him, cleverly disguised by jokes and a devil-may-care attitude.

He felt the shift between them. Felt the way she squeezed his hand with confidence now, knowing that his flirting wasn’t a joke. That his casual contact wasn’t all that casual.

“Well… the jury’s still out on whether or not you’re a human or a synth,” she whispered with a grin. “I still haven’t tried your recall code on you.”

With that, Sole pressed her lips to Deacon’s. He hadn’t kissed Sole many times, so he didn’t have much to compare it to, but this kiss definitely felt different. Her hesitation was gone. Her lips were confident as they moved over his, and he smiled at her touch.

“Can we go back to that whole, dream business you were talking about a second ago?” Deacon asked, but Sole instantly silenced him with another kiss, which he was just fine with.

Her hands roamed slowly up his chest, as if she were taking her time to enjoy the moment. Goosebumps erupted all over his skin at her touch.

As she gently bit his bottom lip, something he definitely hadn’t expected from her, he couldn’t stop himself from being too aware of their surroundings. He wanted to melt into the kiss. He wanted to thoroughly enjoy this moment. There weren’t any more questions between them. They both understood each other finally.

But they were also in Railroad HQ. Anti-fraternization Zone Number 1. They may have been in the escape tunnel, but agents regularly used it as an overflow for the headquarters.

“Hey,” Deacon said, pulling away from Sole regretfully. Confusion lined her features. “So… I want this. You have absolutely no idea how much,” he began. “But… we’re not really in the best place for… grown up bonding time.”

Sole smiled up at him. “Doesn’t that sort of make it more exciting?” she asked.

What? Where had this Sole come from?

Not waiting for his response, she kissed him again, harder this time. He tried to exercise restraint.

He failed.

Instead, he pushed Sole up against the wall, parting her lips with his tongue and pressing his body against hers. Every fiber of his being burned to be even closer to her, but even with this bold new Sole that stood before him, he knew she wasn’t that type. She’d want to take things somewhat slow. And he was fine with that.

Besides, after years of being completely touch-starved, any contact was like a revelation for Deacon.

His hands found her waist, softly kneading the smooth skin there as his mouth moved against hers. She made a little noise that encouraged him further, prompting him to trail his kisses down to her collarbone instead.

She grabbed his hair in a slightly painful manner, but he didn’t mind. Instead, he focused on the very important work he was doing on her neck while her hands pulled him more firmly against her.

“Deeks,” she said breathlessly, though he hardly heard her. His lips were too preoccupied with just how perfect her neck seemed to be. How had he not noticed before? “Dea-con,” she said again, still just as breathless.

This time he heard her. And he loved the way his name sounded when she was the one saying it. The way her breath hitched at the end of the first syllable when he’d nipped at her neck. That desperate quality to her voice.

“Mmm?” he mumbled, now slowly moving his lips back towards hers.

“You…” but her words were cut off by another kiss. “Said we should be careful here?” she finally managed, between kisses. “About Des?”

This was more like the reserved Sole he knew. But he was enjoying himself too much. He was finally kissing her. Really kissing her. Not just for fun. Not as part of a ruse for a mission. Not in some psychotic funhouse where he wasn’t sure if she really wanted to or if it was just some weird trick of the drugs in Kiddie Kingdom.

Being able to touch someone after so long was like an oasis in a desert. And she saw him. Really saw him. That was normally the last thing he wanted from someone. But it was all he wanted with Sole.

“Screw it,” Sole said between another kiss before she wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him harder against her body, shuddering as they crashed together.

“I already told you, I left a backup in the escape tunnel,” Tinker Tom said from somewhere near the room’s entrance. “Now if y’all would give me two seconds, I could actually go get it.”

Sole instantly broke the kiss, looking wide-eyed at Deacon in a panic. He pressed a finger against her lips and grabbed her hand. Without a word, Deacon pulled her towards the exit at the far end of the room. It would lead them out into the cool night air of The Commonwealth.

As he held her hand and pulled her behind him, he couldn’t stop the embarrassing little smile that broke across his face. He heard Sole giggle behind him and it only added to the pure unadulterated joy that was beginning to permeate his very being.

She saw him. She saw all of him. And she still wanted him.

------

Note: This fic makes me seem like I don’t like Danse. I actually love him! I just like to make fun of him :)

Also, if you enjoy my writing, I’m an author IRL. I’ve got 13 published books, but my favorite is Parrish. You should check it out if you like ghosts and love stories between weirdos.

[slocumjoe]

Hiiii this is my first time asking, but I love your writing! ♥

I was recently editing my FF where Hancock had to talk to Shaun about him and Sole being together (like when a step-parent has to get the green light from the kiddos, and I thought it was cute). It made me wonder...

How would you see the Companions handling this situation? Or being a "step-parent?"

Companions as step-parents

(Big distinction from having their own kid)

Cait; It takes multiple months to really figure things out with Shaun. She starts by mentioning one day, "By the way, yer ma/da and I are datin'. What do you want for dinner?" This is never brought up again. Shaun is fine, he's a smart lad. If ever asked to discipline, she's out the window and down the street. Not her kid, not her say. Cait has too many nerves to be Mean Mom. She's Fun Mom. She's Eat All This Candy Mom. She's kind of a disaster and Shaun finds her entertaining. Cait, for her part, is glad they don't have to go all sappy about it. Internally, always fretting and fussing about how she's doing as a parent. If anyone notices she quit the bottle, they can mind their own.

Curie; Long-winded discussion that bores Shaun half-to-death. She wants to talk mental health, healthy family dynamics, responsibilities...how its okay to feel what he feels, who to talk to about what, where do they go from here...Shaun nods along even if he's already adjusted to this being a reality. Curie wants to be the Model Mother with no shortcomings. Shaun just wants Curie, and Curie is already there. That's enough for him. Not many people can brag about their mom being an actual doctor with papers to prove it. (They're her Ms. Nanny 'adoption' papers.)

Danse; Similar to Curie, except Danse is freaking out, where Curie is cool as a cucumber. Danse is not a cucumber. He wants to win Shaun over so badly, but understands that kids are their own people, with opinions and shit. So, his speech is more along the lines of 'here's what to expect, and here's what is up to you.' Meanwhile Shaun is already thinking about Father's day...because Danse has been his dad from, like, minute one. You can't teach him science and garage stuff and not be Dad. That's like...first step to Being Shaun's Dad.

Deacon; would need his ass glued to a chair to keep him from trying to wrap it up prematurely. Can't stop making jokes but desperately wishes he could. Meanwhile, Shaun is Not Entirely Impressed. Deacon is a liar. He runs off. He changes his identity. Shaun isn't convinced he's not going to go get cigarettes one day and vanish. And having kids is a sore spot for Deacon. This is territory he paved over long ago. But he forces himself to take a pickaxe and start peeling back those layers, self-actualize. Shaun sees this and accepts Deacon as Dad. They go on What Trouble Can We Get Into Without Mom/Dad Finding Out adventures.

Gage; i really hope Gage can keep his temper in check here, because Shaun is not having this. Raider. Manipulative, probably also a liar, violent tendencies, lacks morals, etc etc etc. Will 100% bring up Nate/Nora. "Mom's/Dad's last partner was a war hero/civil rights lawyer. What do you do for work?" Gage might be more skittish than Deacon here. He was expected a geek kid. Not someone staring through his soul and tsking. Brings back little gadgets for Shaun as peace offerings, cleans up his act somewhat. Maybe starts cleaning himself more if Shaun comments on his hygiene. Look, he ain't running from Sole because of their, in all fairness, honest, objectively correct child. But he can't just butt heads with him all his damn life either. With enough time, Gage takes Shaun and tries to actually parent. Shows him survival tricks. How to skin an animal, fire-starting, whittling. Stuff his own family taught him. Shaun needs only a few good looks at Gage's soft side before he's on board.

Hancock; Shaun is. So torn. One hand, Hancock is fun and nice and really cares for his parent. On the other, Hancock is a chemhead from The Place Where Everyone Is High And Having Sex Constantly. He likes Hancock as a weird uncle. As a dad...hmm...he's suspicious. Is Hancock husband material? Hancock himself doesn't think so and will fully admit to Shaun "Hey, I've got shit to work on, and I'm working on it, because your mom/dad is everything to me, and we're not going to just leave you out to dry." Hancock wants Shaun to be better than him, to not feel too comfortable in places Hancock himself would call homely. Teaches him to value the freaks in the world, and his community, but understand that a fun hole six feet down is still a hole six feet down. If he ever realized he was the Rules Dad, would go on an Irresponsible Parent bender to correct. No one learns that Shaun got a flamethrower out of this until Its Too Late.

MacCready; Takes ten minutes and most of it is talking about having a brother. Raises Shaun like his own, Shaun calls him Dad the quickest. What? He's already a dad. MacCready needs no intro to parenthood. This just makes sense to everyone involved and there only hiccup is Shaun worrying about sharing a room. Not because jealousy or anything, but he has potentially flammable/electric gadgets he's working on, and Duncan is a curious boy.

Nick; Also needs no introduction beyond "Hey I know the synth thing is weird but you want mac and cheese for dinner?" This just. Makes. Sense. Honeslty, even if not romanced, Nick is still Dad. Come on. He just is. Nick himself will grapple with the horror of potentially outlining both Sole and their child, but Shaun is just excited to spend more time with his cool robot detective dad. Hey, how does your hand work? Can I see the joints? How do you smoke, can I see your lungs? Nick is the one who needs an adjustment period. Teaches Shaun snark and now no adult dare sass him.

Piper; Also no introduction. The only hiccup here is that Nat, previously Shaun's bestie, is now his aunt. And both of them are really weirded out by this. Nat isn't helping by insisting she has to start drinking wine. No, Natalie, that was just a quirk of Aunt Darcy, not a universal rule. Piper herself is Shaun's confidant, the one he goes to whenever he needs to talk. Why not Sole? Well, its just...Sole only ever responds 1 of 4 ways, and Shaun has developed a sixth sense to intuit those responses, so...when he needs someone normal, he goes to Piper. Piper is a wildcard and also, gives him candy.

Preston; I HC he's a middling child of a big, big family, with lots of relatives nearby, if not in the same house. So, Preston has this child raising shit on lock. Sits Shaun down, gives him a quick rundown of the basics, asks if he has any questions, and boom. Done. Preston would rather be a parent/guardian/trusted adult than he's going to be. Actions, not words. He's probably the most likely to sway Shaun from his science interests. Not intentionally, but its hard to look at Preston and Sole, hear their stories, and not want to follow your parents in their Minuteman ways. And if Sole leads the Institute? Shaun is set up to really change the wasteland.

X6-88; 400+ PowerPoint slide. The doors are locked. He provided refreshments. Shaun allows this because he understands that X6-88 needs this more than him. Sole might have some objections. X6-88 raises Shaun with education in mind. Shaun just keeps asking questions about what its like to be a courser. Excellent, questions like that are preludes to a brilliant mind. No one challenges Shaun to "my dad could beat your dad in a fight." Shaun, for his part, likes this killing machine fumble around domestic life. He's worse than Cait at it.

[colossal-fallout]

Can u write some Paladin Danse smut pls? Female reader maybe mention the first time they had met?? Ty

Squad Gladius

Warnings: 18+ smut, angst and description of injury.

"Where's that stimpak?!" Your voice screeches as gunshots fire all around you. The loud small explosions is enough to deafen you, but your focus was all on Paladin Danse, injured at your knees.

"I'm trying!" Haylen cries as she fires down a hallway - her targets out of your vision.

"Ah-ha!" A super mutant taunts, strutting towards you with his shitty pipe pistol that looked like he'd clumsily made it in 8th grade workshop class. "Tin Man, go boom."

Your teeth bare into a snarl; your desire to save Danse has you panicked and desperate, but your survival instincts transmute it into pure rage.

The slight gash and trail of blood on your forehead isn't even felt as you grab the only weapon close to you - a shotgun.

Looks like you have to do everything yourself...

Your body leaves Danse for a moment as you sprint towards the reloading Green-skin. He'd been smarter than your average mutant, having aimed his shots at Danse's fusion core, exploding it before he could safely get out of range.

And the only thing more infuriating than a super mutant, was a super mutant who had a bit of brain inside his green dome.

Almost in slow motion, with one arm you cock the shotgun and press the barrel right into the monsters cheek, pulling the trigger before it could even react.

You turn on your heel and run to aid Haylen, not fazed about the FEV victims grey matter scattering your clothes. It was now the norm in post-apocalyptic America.

You shove her aside harshly, removing her from the line of fire.

"Go help Danse." Is all that leaves your lips as you pluck her laser pistol from her hands.

Haylen obeys as you take care of the two brutes down the hallway, who were taking cover in adjoining doorways.

"Where - where's, y/n?" Danse croaks as Haylen begins to pull out her medkit.

"Shh..." She soothed, tears pooling in her eyes. "She's okay. Just tying up some loose ends."

She pushed the needle into his neck, it was faster to work that way, before pushing down the lever. It hisses as the chemicals stored inside successfully enter his blood stream.

"I need, to tell her..." He was out of it. Wasn't entirely sure where he was or what was happening.

His vision began to fade.

"I'm losing him!" Haylen screams just as you finish up the last enemy.

All he could hear was his own breaths as everything started to fill into an inky blackness. Your legs heading towards him as Haylen pumped his chest were the last things he saw.

"I love..." He whispered, desperately yet weakly holding his gloved hand out for you, before it crashes to the ground.

The next two days were a total blur.

You were absolutely grief stricken and seemed to just float around above your body as your comrade, friend and mentor fought for his life.

Thank god Rhys had pulled through and managed to transmit a distress pulser, a vertibird swooping down to your aid in all its glory.

But it didn't feel like a successful mission while Danse was lying in his quarters, fighting for his life.

You'd popped in to check in on him for the countless time, the bed sinking slightly as you perched yourself next to his warm body. He was shirtless, his abdomen wrapped in bandages, the shrapnel of his exploding suit no doubt gifting him with more battle scars.

Oh Danse... You think as you gently stroke his stubbled face.

You jump when his hand finds its way to your wrist, his now open cocoa eyes melting at the sight of you.

"Y/N..." He croaks.

You immediately pass him the glass of water that sat on his bedstand, aiding him as he gulped it desperately.

"How you feeling?" You asked, hiding how concerned you were. "You had us all worried there, Paladin."

"I've been better." He lets out a weak laugh.

Such a soldier...

"Well, I'm glad you're back with us, sir." You smile softly, not able to stop the silent tear that rolled down your precious face.

"Don't call me that." He wavered his hand dismissively, thumbing your tear away with his other.

You seem taken aback in surprise.

He notices your expression. "Y/N, I... Have to tell you something. I'm uh... Not very good at this sort of thing."

"it's okay." You smile, running your fingers through his raven black hair. "I heard you... You don't have to say a thing."

His brow furrows for a second wondering what you meant, before soaring up when he remembered.

"You did, huh? Sorry about -"

You silence him by pressing your lips against his. You know him all too well and you were certain he would never dream of making the first move. This man oozed testosterone yet when it came to using it on anything other than fighting, he was like a lost child.

He returns your kiss, cupping your face tenderly; the adrenaline rush from your lips against his sweeter than any rush he'd gotten from any battle.

His pace quickened, rapidly getting desperate after yearning for you for so long, keeping his crush a secret from everyone; even himself at first.

"y/n..." He breathes. "I need you."

The imprint of his excitement pressed against the sheets that covered his lower half.

"You're not in any shape for that." You laugh softly.

His eyes plead but his mouth utters; "Yeah... Maybe not right now."

You get to your feet, grabbing the zip of your brotherhood jumpsuit, your eyes transforming into the orbs of a vixen as you slowly pulled it down.

His lips parted and eyes widened hungrily, as if getting bigger would somehow take more of what he was seeing into his essence.

Your clothing fell to the floor, your body as naked and vulnerable as the day you were born; offering him your body as well as your heart.

His tongue rolls over his bottom lip, then he stutters in awe.

"Y- y/n..."

You remove the sheet that covered him before climbing between his legs.

You waited for protest. To see if he was still too hurt to handle even the most tender forms of love.

But he remained silent; say for his increased breathing.

"Tell me if it gets too much." Your voice carries through the air full of affection.

"I..." He begins, a pink hue starting to colour his skin. "I won't last long."

"That's okay." You reassured before lowering your head and running your tongue from the base of his shaft, all the way up his thick dick and to the top.

He gasps and grips the sheets, his barrel chest rapidly bobbing up and down.

Circling your tongue around his leaking tip, you delight in his disbelieving stare down at you. He groans out loudly and bucks his hips automatically as you swallow him whole, slowly working him with your mouth, tongue and hand.

All you could both think of was you wouldn't have dreamed this would even be possible back when you first met. The two of you thinking the same; "There's no way they would want me."

His quiet whimpers fill the room arousing you to the point of your insides becoming slick.

She's so... Beautiful he'd thought when he first saw her, barging into the parking lot of the police station heroically, firing down ferrals like it was a hobby.

You pick up the pace. His panting becoming more desperate, his fingers running through his hair at how good it could feel being in your mouth.

"Y/N. I'm going to cum soon." He warns.

You moan, vibrating him as you plunge him to the back of your throat over and over sending him over the edge.

He whispers an "Ah~!" as his jaw falls open, brows knitting together while he pulses thick, hot liquid down your throat. You took it all swallowing it by the cup load.

"Sh-shit, y/n!"

You didn't think you'd ever hear him curse at you like that.

Removing your mouth he lies there, a ruined mess wondering if he'd actually died the other day and was in heaven. You gently lay yourself beside him where he wraps his arms around you and plants a kiss on your head.

"...Ad Victoriam." He gasps.

"...Please don't say that after sex again."

I hope you enjoyed. Still waiting for the computer store to call me so it was on my phone. This got a little more angsty than intended 😅

[commonwealthoccurences]

Companions React: Sole Finds Their Pre-War Teddy Bear

The set up:

Scavenging wasn’t as easy of a job as some made it out to be. Sanctuary was running low on spare materials and had searched for someone willing to go out into the junk piles of the wasteland and bring home materials that could be turned into something useful.

That’s how Sole and their companion found themselves picking through piles of what appeared to be garbage, climbing over refrigerators long out of service and cracking children’s toys. Skeletons of lives past, remnants of individuals who wouldn’t be remembered in a world that left them behind. Sole stood at the top of the pile, a hand over their eyes to scan the wreckage, when they spotted something they thought long gone and took off running.

Cait:

Though she’d refuse to admit it later, Cait started when Sole took off, scrambling down from their perch at the top of the junk pile, dead set on a goal she couldn’t make heads or tails of. Their vision had locked onto something and it appeared they weren’t going to stop until they got what they wanted. “Hey! Where the hell do ya think you’re goin’?” Cait scrambled after them, boots slipping over car parts and rusted metal as she fought to keep up.

Her shout didn’t stop Sole, though they did skid to a stop at the bottom of a pile, tossing scraps of metal aside without a care in the world. Cait kept her distance to avoid being caught in the crossfire and only stepped forward when Sole straightened up, something clutched tightly in their hands. Nearly slipping and grouchier than before, she picked her way through the mess to stand in front of Sole and rolled her eyes. “Ya really nearly killed yourself over that garbage?”

Sole looked up, their expression vulnerable and a little bit guilty. Gently, they brushed some dirt off the teddy bear they held, though it didn’t do much to fix it’s battered appearance. Somehow Sole looked even more haunted, like they were seeing into a world Cait had barely a grasp on. “This is mine.” They whispered.

“What?”

“It’s mine. From before the war. I didn’t think… how the hell did it survive?”

Cait’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Fockin’ hell, that thing’s more durable than most people.”

Sole laughed, though their mind still seemed so far away as they traced the edge of the teddy’s ear with the tip of their finger. Cait moved closer to them, swearing harshly when she nearly slipped and fell again. One of its eyes was missing and the threads were coming loose from it’s face, but there was something about Sole’s affection for it that made Cait see something cute. “It’s survived, I’ll give it that.” Her tone was begrudging, but deep down, she knew if someone ever tried to take that thing away from Sole, there’d be hell to pay.

Curie:

Curie’s worry spiked when Sole nearly slipped and fell. The potential for injury was great amongst the piles of garbage; who knew what laid under a poorly supported tarp. Concern running high, Curie climbed her way after her runaway companion, carefully testing each place for proper support before putting her weight on it. The going was slow and by the time she reached their side, Sole had already found and dug out what they were chasing after.

It was a teddy bear, covered in grime and layers of dirt from being out in the Wasteland. “I’m sorry, Mx, but what is the significance of this… thing?” It was difficult for her to hide her distaste at the object, which could barely be seen past the filthiness.

“It used to be mine. Still is, I guess. I never thought I’d see it again.” Sole’s voice was barely above a whisper as they cradled the stuffed animal like a child.

“The garbage?” Curie was confused.

“It’s not-” Sole pressed their lips together, suppressing their distress.

The possibility of their teddy surviving the war was unbelievably low, and yet both of them had managed to beat the odds. They were overcome with a wave of emotion. Something so fragile and seemingly insignificant to everyone else had managed to survive and they had never identified with something so much since they had awoken in this nightmare.

Curie managed to pick up on the mood despite her confusion and folded her hands together. “There’s a river just down the hill if you’d like to clean it off.” She stated quietly.

Sole nodded, smile a little watery, and looked up at Curie. “Yeah, I think I’d like that. Lead the way, Curie.”

Danse:

“Soldier! Don’t be so reckless!” Danse shouted after them, struggling with whether or not to go after them. Climbing in wreckage wasn’t the easiest in power armor.

He watched them charge down the side of the garbage pile, skidding to a stop at the bottom and beginning to rip the piles apart with no regard to how it may affect the stability of what they were standing on. Danse huffed, having never seen them acting like that, and began making his way over to them, careful to place his weight in stable areas, lest he become part of the metal scrap in the piles. He was beyond astonished to see them bent over a teddy bear that seemed to have gone through the wringer. “Is this what you took off over.” He scoffed in disbelief.

“This belongs to me.” They whispered, still crouched over it, nearly shaking.

Danse failed to understand what they were saying until they looked up at him with teary eyes. It didn’t just belong to them, it belonged to them before the war. He suddenly understood their reaction, and was flustered at the way he’d reacted. He should’ve known Sole wouldn’t take off over something insignificant, especially without communicating to him. He looked over to the horizon before glancing back down at them, where they were stroking the teddy bear’s fur, mesmerized. “Put it in your backpack. We still need to work while we have daylight.” Too harsh, he thought. “We can clean it up when we get back to Sanctuary.” A little better.

Sole grinned up at him and wiped a stray tear off their face, inhaling as they stood and hugged it tightly to their chest. They muttered something to themself before swinging their backpack to the side and adjusting the teddy bear “comfortably” in it. Danse looked away to suppress the affectionate smile that crept across his face.

Deacon:

“Oh, shit. Why are we taking off, Boss?” Deacon was a little alarmed at their sudden movement.

In an attempt to keep up he nearly slid and ended up on his ass. He waved his arms comically for a moment to keep his balance and remain upright before charging after them just as recklessly. He wasn’t one to question why someone was running. The wasteland was a run first, ask questions later type of place, and he’d survived so far with that policy.

When they skidded to a stop and began digging, he stumbled to slow down and came to a stop behind them. He couldn’t quite see over their shoulder, but when they let out a victorious shout and the scraps stopped flying, he leaned forward. They were clutching a teddy bear. “We aren’t gonna get much spare cloth from that garbage, I’ll be honest, Boss.” He said skeptically.

They stood and whirled around, a broad grin on their face as they held the teddy bear out. “It’s mine!” The joy on their face was contagious, but he was still confused.

“What do you mean?”

“From before the War! I can’t believe it survived.” Their tone turned to one of wonder as they rubbed their thumb over where one of its eyes had fallen off.

Deacon couldn’t help his chuckle. “It is cute, I do have to admit. Let’s get it cleaned up though.”

Gage:

“What the fuck?” Gage’s head snapped towards where Sole had taken off, tracking them through the crumbling piles of garbage that scattered under their weight.

He groaned under his breath, rolling his eyes as he looked up at the sky. He’d sworn they were smarter than the last Overboss and yet he could almost predict them slipping and breaking their neck over whatever they were chasing. God knows it couldn’t be that important. With a huff, he dropped his cigarette and began slowly following after them.

Maybe it was the way they were desperately tossing junk aside, or the fact that he’d never seen Sole act like this, but he was almost wary of coming up behind them. He wasn’t trying to take a shard of glass to his good eye. He waited for them to stop scrambling before he came up beside them and caught a glimpse at what they were holding. “A fucking teddy bear? Are you kidding me?” He rolled his eyes, trying to find patience somewhere in the back of his brain.

“I… Gage this is mine.”

“You- what?”

“It’s mine. From before the war. I’ve had this since I was five.”

“How the hell did this fucker live longer than most people do?”

Sole laughed and hugged the teddy bear tightly. Then, they held it up next to him, Gage dodging to avoid being touched by the filthy stuffed animal. “You guys look exactly the same. Teddy bears covered in dirt.”

“You better move your ass before I kick the shit out of you.” He grumbled, pushing past them to hide the slight flush on his face.

Hancock:

“Hey! Sole!” Hancock was frozen in place, mildly stunned by their reaction to whatever they’d seen.

Yanking at his coattails as they got caught on a sharp piece of metal, he began the trek to catch up to them. Luckily, they stopped not far from where they’d taken off, kneeling in a pile of discarded clothing. Pieces of clothing were tossed behind them carelessly before they stopped and grabbed something. Hancock caught up to them shortly after, boots slipping against the slimy hood of a car before he made it down to stand next to them. “What’s going on Sole.”

They turned and stood and began looking between him and the teddy bear expectantly. “You could’ve cracked your head open runnin’ over here, Sunshine. For a piece of grimy trash?”

Sole shook their head and flipped over a tag to show him before they looked back up, even more expectant. “It was mine!” The tag on the bear’s ear was nearly shredded, but once pushed together, had their name in smudged handwriting.

Hancock felt like an ass for calling their teddy bear a piece of trash, but to be fair, they had never argued when they saw previous teddy bears laying on the side of the road as they travelled. He sucked in a deep breath. “Sorry about calling it trash, Sole. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay, I get it. I probably would’ve too.” They laughed, their fond gaze still turned to the teddy bear.

“Hey! We should get a matching hat for the bear. It can be the mascot of Goodneighbor.”

Haylen:

Haylen groaned, struggling to keep up with Sole once they’d taken off. She already was slightly behind, on the other side of the mountain of trash as they scrambled their way down, and was fighting to not get her foot caught and go tumbling down into the piles. She managed to get to Sole’s side without major incident, though she was sporting a new scrape on her palm by the time she stopped next to them.

The sun was already starting to set, but it wasn’t hard to see what Sole was holding so cheerfully in their arms. A teddy bear, covered in dirt and God knows what else. “Christ, Sole. You could’ve gotten hurt and I can’t carry you back home. Why the hell did you do that for garbage?”

“It’s not garbage. Haylen, this is mine.” Sole looked up at her with an expression Haylen had never seen from them before.

“What do you mean?” Her tone softened.

“It’s mine. I had this before… before.”

“Oh, Sole.” She sighed, kneeling and putting her hand on their shoulder.

They blew out a shaky breath, turning the teddy bear over to examine it carefully. Haylen reached over and brushed some of the loose dirt off in an attempt to clean it despite the obvious staining. It didn’t do much, but Sole turned and smiled at her appreciatively. “Put it in my backpack so it gets home safe, okay? We have to keep moving, though.”

MacCready:

At least they weren’t standing at the top of a hill, possibly the worst place to be when a trained sniper could be looking for a target. However, he couldn’t stop himself from shaking his head as they took off towards wherever, seemingly blind to possible danger. With a grumbled “I don’t get paid enough for this” he started to go after them.

It was a bit of a hike and by the time he reached them, he was sweating. Once he stopped he leaned against a rickety storage cabinet, fingers mentally crossed it wouldn’t topple over and take him with it, as he stared down at the teddy bear in their hands. With a huffed breath, “What was that.”

“Sorry, I just-” Sole stared in wonder at the little bear. “I thought this was gone forever.”

“What do you mean?”

“This was mine. Pre-war. I… it was a gift for my third birthday and I thought I’d never see it again.”

Something about the look on their face made him pause in his distaste for their impulsivity and the tattered cloth bear that rested in their grip. He sighed and dropped into a crouch next to them and took the teddy bear from their hands. He turned it over, examining the damage, and began brushing what he could off of the bear. It was disgusting, but salvageable. “Alright. I’ll get the sewing kit out once we get back to Sanctuary.”

Nick:

“Hey, kid!”

He watched them take off in disbelief, alarmed at what could be going through their head to go charging off so quickly. It was difficult to navigate the wrecked landscape but he managed to make his way across the landfill and get to where Sole was cradling something in their arms. With a reluctant curiosity, Nick leaned over and took a look. “You’re holding garbage, Sole.” His voice was unimpressed and confused.

“It’s not garbage.” They protested, meeting his glowing, yellow eyes. “It’s my teddy bear. I’ve had it since I was young!”

Nick tilted his head, trying to picture what the teddy bear could look like before the war had taken its owner too far away to take care of it. Despite the layers of grossness, he could see something Sole would label theirs affectionately. That thought stuck with him as he spoke. “Look at you, always finding those that need you. Should we go get it cleaned up?” 

Old Longfellow:

“What- ah, damn’t. Where are you takin’ off to, cap’n?” Longfellow’s voice was gravelly, carrying across the wasted landscape.

Sole paid no mind and kept running, determined to reach their destination at any cost. He felt his knee creak as he climbed over the rusty parts and pieces of pre-war buildings, remnants of lives past. He cursed under his breath, but kept climbing after them, hoping the creaking, shabby structures would hold together as he moved. Eventually, he got to them. “Really? For a piece of trash, Sole?”

Sole shook their head vigorously. “This is my teddy bear. From before the bombs. I… Jesus.” They looked up at him as if they’d had the breath knocked out of them.

Longfellow looked at it carefully, understanding that now wasn’t the time to be so brash. They reached out for a hand up and he gave it to them, gripping their arm tightly as they stood, careful not to lose their balance on the shifting scraps. Once they were properly balanced, they reached out, teddy in hand in front of them. “I want you to hang onto it for now, okay?” It was hard to say no to them when they looked at him like that. With grumbling reluctance, he took the teddy and settled it in his backpack.

Piper:

“Blue?! Be careful!” Piper yelled after them, preparing to follow them by heaving the strap of her backpack further onto her shoulder.

She’d spent more time than ideal dodging traders as she chased after Nat when they were younger, so she’d gotten skill in quickly finding the best footing. It wasn’t difficult to keep pace as long as she didn’t stay on one leaning piece of discarded trash for too long. Nimble as ever, it wasn’t long before she was stopping at Sole’s side.

They had dug in the pile of junk, dirt coating their hands with tiny flecks of rust for decoration, and pulled out a weak looking scrap of cloth. No, not just a scrap of cloth. It was a teddy bear, well worn and overdue by way too long for a good washing. “Sole, I can’t believe you ran like that for trash. What’s going on?”

“It’s mine.” Their voice was hushed, as if they were sharing a secret.

“From… no way.” Piper got a good look at it and yeah, it certainly looked like it had been around for hundreds of years.

“Yeah.”

They looked up at her in awe, a childlike grin on their face, reminding her of her own baby sister. With a reassuring smile, she patted them on the back. “No worries, Blue. We can get it back home and fix it up in no time, I bet. I’ve got some old recipes for stain remover we can try out, if you want.”

Preston:

“General? General!” He shouted after them, quickly moving into action to keep up with them.

Preston was never more than a few steps behind them at all times, and that wasn’t going to change now. Despite things sliding out from under their feet, Preston managed to continue finding the footing to leap after them, nearly colliding with their back as they slid to a stop and kneeled at the base of a pile. He got to his knees next to them to see what they were doing.

When they began prying something out from under a scrap of metal, he lifted it to ease their way, despite his confusion. They yanked out a teddy bear that may have been light at some point, but was now coated in just about everything you could find in the wasteland, and missing it’s tail. Sole let out a disbelieving laugh, their jaw dropped from the shock. “What’s going on General? What is this other than garbage?”

“It’s mine! Holy shit, I can’t believe it survived!”

“From before the war?” Preston’s own eyes widened.

Sole nodded eagerly, the joy from this miracle evident on their face. He’d never seen the General so elated and took it in stride. “Sturges should be able to work his magic once we get back to Sanctuary. We’ll keep it safe until then, okay?”

Travis:

“S-Sole?” Travis was hesitant to take off after them, unsure if any part of this was safe.

His steps were probably even more cautious than they needed to be as he made his way across the landfill, cringing every time metal slid against metal once he’d shifted his weight off of it. It was a good bit before he got to where Sole had launched themself towards, and by then, they’d already stood and clutched whatever they were holding to their chest. Upon further examination, he realized it was a teddy bear. “Uhm, is that… supposed to be a teddy bear? It looks like trash, to be honest.” 

Sole’s gaze caught him off guard when they looked up at him with excitement shining so bright it could rival the stars. He sucked in a deep breath and looked away, examining the teddy bear again. “It’s mine! Travis, I had this before the bombs dropped!” 

“Oh… oh I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to call it trash-” He became flustered with himself, scratching the back of his neck as his face flushed red.

“Don’t worry about it.” Sole laughed quietly. “It does look pretty bad, doesn’t it? We should be able to fix it up, anyway. Nothing’s past saving.”

Travis relaxed in relief when they brushed off his comment and returned a small smile. 

X6-88:

“Mx. Mx!”

They’d taken off without a word after an already pointless mission. Impatience was thrumming across his body, all the way down to his fingertips, which twitched on the handle of his baton. Lips pursed in annoyance, he moved to follow them, taking his time, considering they’d stopped by the time he got moving. Sure, he was going to protect them, but if they were going to get themself into dumb situations by taking off recklessly, they could handle themself until he got there.

Once he’d made his way closer he started looking for what had set them off so badly. He couldn’t see anything of significance amongst the discarded trash. The urge to reprimand them rose in his throat, but he suppressed the insult. “What’s going on?”

“I found it! I can’t believe it’s still here!” They laughed, looking up at him with bright eyes.

When X6-88 looked down he found a tattered, nasty teddy bear looking back at him; seemingly the perfect representation of how he viewed the wasteland. “Mx, I don’t think this is an appropriate use of our time.”

“Six, you don’t understand. This was mine. Before the war.” Their tone pushed him to understand.

He paused. It definitely needed some help, but obviously this was something important that he was somehow struggling to understand. He really wasn’t one for anything sentimental, but he’ found that sometimes entertaining these ideas would play in his favor. This must be one of those times; Sole may get upset if he were to dismiss their determination to make him understand. “I’m sure we have something at the Institute to… repair this.”

[fallout-drabbles-n-stuff]

Hello! Hope you're doing great! I love your blog ❤️

I was wondering how romanced and non-romanced companions would react to Sole being ass grabbed without their consent by a random dude. Thank you!

Romanced (❤️) and Non-Romanced (✨)

Cait:

❤️-

“Oi- look here for a sec..”

Unlike how some may assumed she would act, she would first sneak up on the asshole- waiting until he turned and gave her a nasty sneer before swiftly swinging her fist and making contact with a *crack* to the son of a bitch’s stupid nose. However once Cait got ahold to something, she doesn’t really let go. One punch wouldn’t be enough- this asshole just assaulted you- right in front of her face! Before she knew it, she had reduced the sick fuck into a groaning, swollen pile of bruises and blood. She just couldn’t stop.

✨-

“Hey dickface! I fuckin’ saw that!”

Flashes of the sleazy raiders she knew too well would be the first thing that came to mind- sending cool shivers of terror all throughout her body.

That’s when the adrenaline kicked in.

She’d still beat their ass, whether you like it or not.

Curie:

❤️-

“Excusez-moi, i don’t believe that is proper behavior- oh never mind, I doubt you even comprehend what proper means...”

She wouldn’t outright hurt someone- but damn, she sure wanted to then. Instead of doing it though, she just got all up in the man’s face, sticking her finger in his chest and telling him off. Much alike Tinkerbelle if you squint.

✨-

Kind of the same thing here tbh. I just don’t foresee Curie being the type to be excessively violent.

Danse:

❤️-

“What twisted thought made you think you had the right to do that? No- actually there isn’t anything you could say that would justify violating someone..”

Yes, Danse is composed- but no, he would not just sit idly by and watch someone do such a thing to his love. His automatic reflex is to go into protective mode, which involved him promptly shoving the man away from you- letting the perpetrator fall to the ground- only to pick him back up by the collar of his shirt and practically seethe and he confronted him. Had he not been in the right state and fear causing a too big of a scene- he just might’ve roughed the man up worse.

✨-

“That was an extremely poor decision, civilian.”

Similar to a romanced Danse, he would still be hella

Protective over you. Instead of letting his heart speak too much though- he’d simply grab the little shit and pull him aside, giving him a harsh glare and the promise of being crushed by a power armour boot.

Deacon:

❤️-

“Like how that feels, dickbag? Didn’t think so..”

Instead of causing a huge scene by slitting his throat, Deacon smoothly pressed into the man from behind- his hands leaving an imprinted bruise from how harshly he grabbed the man. It caused said man to yell and turn- but he didn’t do anything- he understood. As a matter of fact, he would shamefully apologize to you, silently pleading for you to tell your lover to stop violating him as well.

✨-

“See? Now we’re all uncomfortable..”

Unlike his demonstration shown above, Deacon would go for the more mild “return ass grab”. A quid pro quo, an uno reverse card if you will. Who even knows how to respond to that? No one. It just leaves the whole lot of you with a mural feeling of discomfort and awkwardness where usually rage and violation would’ve taken place.

Gage:

❤️-

“Shit, betcha wished you would’ve done something else- huh? Just think about it this way, now you can go into early retirement with your little situation..”

Gage is ruthless.

As soon as the man laid a hand on you- as soon as he saw the look of fear and embarrassment that graced your face..he grabbed the poor sack of shit’s hand and cut it off- leaving him to bleed and cry out. Most likely to die..after all, no one would dare help the man that just tried to cop a feel on the boss.

✨-

“Wrong move, shit stain. *chuckle*, Get ‘em boss.”

He’ll intervene if you do nothing- but honestly Gage just wants to see how you punish the man. Best you set a good example.

Hancock:

❤️-

“You know, it takes a special person to do that...*chuckle*.”

You remember what he did to that man that tried to distort you? That was before he fell in love with you- so what I want you to do is take that event and triple the brutality. It’s exactly that.

✨-

“....damn, think I’ve got a little something on my shirt.”

Again- he stabbed a bitch just for fucking with y-

Macready:

❤️-

“Are you serious? I’ll give you the count to ten, best start running- I’m pretty good at long range target practice.”

It would take every fiber of his being not to beat the man’s face in with the butt of his rifle...so making his life easier and not risking sitting in jail, Mac just threatens the man and proceeds to load his gun.

✨-

“Haha, Youre so funny- bet you get all the ladies by showing them how small your cock is without them even having to see it.”

Have you ever notice how mean Macready can be? Well, now you can hear it for yourself. The man such words were directed too would likely try to beat Mac up for saying it- which by doing so Mac would have no problem whopping him. Remember, he’s scrappy.

Maxson:

❤️&✨-

“I assume you enjoy having hands, correct? If so, I advise you to get as far away as humanely possible this instant.”

Had he been any other person, Maxson would’ve surely knocked teeth out- but seeing as he was so painfully aware of the reputation he must uphold, he restrained himself. If the man was someone in the brotherhood though, he would show no mercy- being court martialed for sexually assaulting a higher ranking officer would be the least of the perpetrators worried.

Nick:

❤️-

“How dare you..?”

Nick is thankfully a very well thought out and morally unquestionable individual. Thus being said, he will do everything within his power to make the man who touched his lover in such a horrid way pay. He may not kill them..but who ever said that death or being beaten is the worst thing to happen to a person? Regardless, remember ghat Nick has connections with the fallout version of the mafia.

✨-

“Dontcha got a better place for that hand?”

Even though he might’ve seemed a little too calm, Nick would be sure to shoo off the perpetrator and have him dealt with later.

Preston:

❤️&✨-

“Look you piece of trash- I don’t know what ever made you think you can just do whatever you want, but there are consequences for being so stupid.”

Despite his peaceful and gentle way of being- Preston would have absolutely no problem throwing hands with someone who threatened the General of the Minutemen.

X6-88:

❤️-

“.....”

Have I mentioned that X6 is borderline obsessive? Have I also mentioned that he can be entirely ruthless? Hope so- because someone sexually assaulting you is a sure fire way for a bullet to find its way into their head with absolutely no hesitation. He wouldn’t even flinch as the blood sprays and soils his clothes- only seeming phased and slightly annoyed whenever he had to take his shades off and clean the gore.

I don’t advise that you reprimand him for such eggless behavior either.

✨-

“Why did you do that?”

Although he was calm, his words soft like rain- the actions that followed shortly thereafter were anything but relaxed. As soon as the man turned to mouth off and say it was “just a joke”, X6 grabbed his hand and squeezed- watching as the appendage turned red and the poor assailant turned victim tried to desperately get away. Poor thing- he wasn’t going to go until he provided an answer that X6 accepted.

Trick is- nothing would satisfy the brutal, still man.

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Male!Companions react to waking up alone after spending the night with Sole.

Hey all! So, just a heads up, I’m also working on this prompt for the Female!Companions for FO4, and also a bunch of companions from FONV and FO3, but if you have any specific requests or want me to add anyone, just let me know! Sorry this is so damn long, but I hope you all enjoy!

Also, there is a bit of angst in here with some mentions of suicidal thoughts, so just a heads up on that! 

P.S. If you’re one of the lovely folks who has sent me an ask, I am currently working on writing them up and I will definitely get them out as soon as I can, I just really like the prompts y’all gave me and I want to do them justice :)

Danse:  

     Danse sat up with a start, immediately trying to gain his bearings, only to find himself still in the bunker, in his own bed. He let out a shaky breath, still dazed from the heavy sleep that had claimed him. It had been years since he'd slept like that, the last time he recalled sleeping so peacefully was when he was stationed at the Citadel in the Capital Wasteland. Even more than that, he had barely slept at all since discovering his true identity. Danse shook his head, trying to clear it of its sleepy fog, he went to rub his eyes, and he felt his heartbeat increase tenfold as the memories of his night with you came flooding to the forefront of his mind. Even now he felt the heat of a blush rushing to his cheeks. He turned his head, expecting to see your peacefully sleeping form on the mattress beside him. When he didn't, he wasn't sure what to do. Immediately, a slew of emotions and thoughts ran through him, ranging from shame, to panic, to anger, and most of all, hurt. Before he allowed himself to arrive at any premature conclusions, Danse called out for you, looking around the room. Nothing. He stood up, holding the blankets around his waist to conceal himself as he made his way to the hole in the wall that allowed him to peer into the other section of the bunker. Still nothing. The slew of contradicting emotions bubbled up again, leaving him feeling slightly numb. He stood there, just staring, trying to grasp a hold of any clear thought, but they were inadvertently tumbling into his consciousness at an alarming rate. 

All at once, one feeling prevailed over the others, and Danse found himself feeling extraordinarily guilty. Guilty for agreeing to last night, for jeopardizing his friendship with the one person he had left in his life by greedily pushing too far. What right did he have to you and your feelings anyway, when his weren't even real? The pain of being deserted by you was overshadowed by the knowledge that he didn't deserve you in the first place. Even when he thought he was human, he had trouble rationalizing his feelings for you, thinking you deserved better than someone like him. Someone as hard headed, as inexperienced, and emotionally ignorant as he was. But now? Now, he wondered why you even bothered to waste any of your time on him, even just as his partner, when it was proven that he's nothing but a machine. Why had you even suggested last night, when you knew the truth about him? 

He simply couldn’t understand it. Why had you allowed him to be with you in such a way? To be with you so intimately? Why had you allowed him to touch you so invasively? Why had you spoken to him so softly, so earnestly? How could your gaze have been so full of admiration, of love? He was a goddamn machine, and you’d let him share a bed with you, make love to you. He didn’t even know what love was, didn’t know if it was possible for him to even feel it; and yet, you’d been more open with him than he had been with anyone before. And he wasn’t even human. He was at a complete and utter loss for any form of explanation or reasoning behind your actions. 

Danse stood alone in the bunker, staring ahead with brows furrowed low at no single thought in particular. It was then that he realized his heart was still beating out of his chest, he took a deep breath, and prepared himself to leave the bunker in search of you. Because, even now, when you were at the center of his feelings of uncertainty, of guilt, of hurt, he still felt the need to seek the counsel of the one person left he could truly trust, the one whose opinions he had sought in the darkest hours of his existence. He needed you. 

More than that, he needed to make sure you were safe. At least that's what he told himself as he dressed, donning his power armor, before he rode the elevator up to the surface, his iron-clad hands clenching tightly as he gripped his laser rifle. 

As Danse arrived at the surface, he noted the sunlight bursting through the lone window of the bunker, indicating how late he'd slept in, and he mentally kicked himself for his irresponsibility. If he had woken at his usual hour, would you have still been beside him? Perhaps he could've spoken to you before you left, encouraged you to hear him out, begged you to stay with him. Even just as a friend, just as a partner. He felt he simply couldn’t cope with the loss of you, of the security that you provided him. 

 Danse shook his head in an attempt to banish these useless thoughts from his mind. He couldn't control the past, he had to keep looking forward. With that, he crossed the threshold out into the Commonwealth.

Danse returned to the bunker a few hours before sundown, feeling utterly at a loss, he'd been everywhere he could reach, everywhere you could've gone in the period of time you had had to get there. He checked every house, farm, settlement… everything in the bunker's vicinity. His limbs felt weak and numb as he approached the entrance to the bunker. He could feel heat rising up in his face as his chest ached. He felt like he needed to hit something. Tears of frustration and dejection threatened to spill over, and he brought a gloved hand up to roughly wipe away the first drop that fell. Though, through the blur of wetness, he spotted a silhouette in the doorway ahead of him.  

     "Where the hell have you been?!" You shouted, running from the bunker and straight into Danse's arms. For a moment, he remained still, unable to reciprocate your relief in his state of utter shock. In the next instance, his rifle fell from his grip and he was wrapping his arms around you, as tightly as he could without injuring you. 

    "I believe I could ask you the same question, soldier." Danse said, willing his voice to remain stable. You pulled away so that you could look up at him, your expression one of confusion,

     "I thought I told you last night. I had to go to Greentop nursery in the morning and talk to the settlers about their mutant problem." He blinked at you in surprise. At least, you thought you had told him, but maybe it had slipped your mind. It didn't surprise you, given last night's activities. 

     "But… Why didn't you wake me?" 

     "Because Danse, I've never seen you sleep in, I wanted you to get some rest for once." 

     "I would have rather been with you." He said quietly. You opened your mouth to speak, but he continued, 

     "It was irresponsible of you to leave me uninformed, you should have woken me. You scared me, Sole. I thought…" he took a quick breath to steady his voice, "I don't know what I thought. I woke up and you were gone, I wasn't sure if you were in danger, or if you were angry with me, or whether or not you even meant to return."

     "Danse, of course I was going to come back, I just didn't expect you to be gone when I did."

     "And for that, I apologize. However, I implore you to understand--"

     "Danse. It's okay, we're both here now, we're both safe. And I don't know about you, but I'm starving. C'mon." You turned towards the bunker and went to make your way inside. Danse stood a moment, watching you walk away. Feeling began slowly returning to his limbs, and for the first time all day, his heartbeat slowed to its normal rate. He reached down to pick up his rifle, a small smile spreading across his lips as he moved to follow you back into the bunker.

Deacon: 

     Deacon opened his eyes, only to immediately close them again, as the bright morning sun showed through the windows of Ticonderoga safehouse, and directly into his retinas. 

“Damn,” He said, reaching over to grab for his shades from beside the mattress. Once they were placed onto his face, he decided it would be safe to open his eyes once again. Deacon groaned as he rolled his shoulders, and sat up, stretching his arms overhead. 

God, he felt good. The tightness of his muscles serving as a reminder of the… ahem, events of last night. Last night, with you. How the hell had that happened? He almost couldn’t believe it. After so many years of being alone, of feeling emotionally inept, and unable to move on. Here you came, seemingly out of some sci-fi novel, with your futuristic, time-traveling backstory, and inhuman good looks, and for some reason, you’d thought he was, of all things, cute. That was the word you had used, he remembered it vividly, and of course he had feigned being annoyed by the use of the word to describe him, but in reality? He adored the fact that you thought so. No one had ever referred to him as such, and the fact that it confirmed you reciprocated the feelings he had for you; that was truly extraordinary. These feelings that he had tried so desperately to bury deep down, where they couldn’t meddle with your friendship, or your professional relationship, or his own crippling fear of being committed to someone again (given how well it went the first time). Now, he barely understood why he had tried so hard to snuff out his emotions if this was one of the possible outcomes of revealing them to you. He never dreamed that you could have returned the affection he had for you. However, if last night was any kind of indicator… yeah, he’d say the two of you had pretty strong feelings indeed. 

At least, that’s what he had thought. Until he turned to you excitedly, looking to see if you had woken yet, and found your spot next to him quite empty. His jaw clenched at the sight, but he took a breath and resolved himself to looking around the safehouse for your belongings. His teeth worried anxiously against the inside of his cheek as he noticed the distinct absence of anything belonging to you. Deacon stood in the middle of the safehouse, bringing his hands up to roughly rub at his face.   

“God dammit.” He said aloud, unable to keep something from escaping him. Deacon liked to think he had a good bit of self control, it came with the job after all, a spy with no sense of restraint and proper judgment didn't live very long. However, you had this way of making him forget everything he thought he knew about himself. There he was last night, doing the one thing he vowed he'd never do again. Falling for someone. Him! Deacon, the immature, sarcastic, dishonest, and unemotional agent of the railroad; and here he was, head over heels for a widowed, pre-war saint like you. What a pair you two would have made. 

I suppose it really was too good to be true. He thought bitterly.

Deacon grabbed his things and set off into the Commonwealth without so much as a glance over his shoulder. He stared dead ahead, refusing to address the pressure he felt in his chest. Trying desperately to maintain his cool and unbothered exterior, to remain the type of person he was before he'd met you. He always knew he could change the way he looked in a day or less, but the way you'd changed his perspective of the world, of his place in it, and his future? He didn't think you could have changed who he'd turned out to be if you had all the time in the world. Deacon was firmly set in his ways, so much so, that even he couldn't change who he was. No matter how much he despised himself at times. But man, had he been wrong, all the disguises in the world couldn't mask the fact that, for the first time in years, Deacon had a priority in his life besides the railroad, and besides himself. And that scared the shit out of him.

 Now he wasn't really sure what to think. If you had simply wanted nothing more than a one-night stand, you could have just told him so. At least then he would’ve been prepared for this shit. For you leaving him, seemingly without a second thought.

The sniper shook his head roughly as he kicked up the dust of the wasteland, his footfalls much heavier than they had any business being. He always had prided himself at being a good judge of character, at being intuitive, but he never would have expected something like this from someone like you. Someone who cared about the happiness of everyone else more than their own well-being, someone who was kind, and selfless, and empathetic, someone who constantly put their own life at risk for the benefit of complete strangers. Sure, he did that occasionally, but his life was worth a hell of a lot less. You were a good person, and always had been. From the moment he saw you, everything he heard about you, all of it pointed to the fact that you, even after all you’d lost, after everything you endured, you were a better person than he could ever hope to be. And now, for you to do this to him? It was completely out of character. Whatever, he thought, if this is all you wanted from me, then fine. It's all you're going to get. 

As he approached the Old North Church, Deacon mentally prepared himself for the possibility that you too would be at the Railroad headquarters. He decided to simply not acknowledge your… ordeal, and act as though nothing had changed. Though, if Deacon was honest (which he rarely ever was), he would rather not have you as his partner anymore. With the way he was feeling-- the way he had once felt about you, it would be too complicated. He didn’t need complicated. The railroad missions provided enough of that. 

He entered HQ quietly, and mulled about, visiting with the others and picking up missions left and right in an effort to acquire enough distractions to keep him out of the church for as long as possible. He figured that way, the likelihood of bumping into you would be decreased enough for him to get a handle on himself before having to face you. But, of course, his plans were all for naught, he realized as you stormed into the catacombs, your glowering eyes falling directly to the bald sniper in the corner of the room; the sniper who was trying desperately to make himself seem distracted as he felt your eyes burning into the back of his head. At least you had the decency to lower your voice as you approached him, 

“Deacon!” You hissed, shouting his name as quietly as one could shout. 

He continued staring at the blackboard, a hand at his chin as he feigned interest in what was written there. 

“What the hell?” You asked, taking another step towards him, close enough that he could feel your hot breath on his cheek. 

“Hmm? Something wrong?” He asked, turning his head towards you while his eyes stayed glued to the board in front of him. You took a step back, and the next thing he knew, you had extended your hand forcefully towards his face, leaving a stinging red mark imprinted on his cheek in its wake. Deacon’s head snapped back towards the blackboard at the power of your blow, his sunglasses barely managing to hang onto his face by the bridge of his nose.  

I’m not sure if I deserved that or not…

He brought his own hand up to rub the spot you had just slapped, finally letting his eyes meet yours from beneath his crooked shades. He nearly gasped at your expression. Your eyebrows were knitted together above your tear-filled eyes, your mouth a straight line as your chin trembled slightly. He’d say you looked sad, but behind your eyes, all he could see was fire. The same fire he’d felt when he saw that you had deserted him that morning. Or, at least, when he thought you’d deserted him. 

Almost without thinking, Deacon grabbed your hand and dragged you back to the more private area of the railroad HQ. Despite your clear vexation with him, you allowed him to lead you to the back of the church catacombs, near the emergency exit. 

“Alright, you finally ready to explain yourself?” You asked, wrenching your hand from his grasp.

“Me? I’m pretty sure it was you who walked out on me, and who just slapped me in the face for asking a simple question.” Your nostrils flared at that and for a moment, Deacon thought you were going to do something violent again. 

“Okay, look, I know I’ve fallen for your lies before, but I think it’s pretty damn ridiculous for you to think that I’ll believe this one. I was there, Deacon! You left me. You took all your shit and left me alone at the safehouse. I don’t care what happened the night before, even if it was awful for you, or awkward for you to see me in that way, or whatever, you still don’t abandon your partner. We agreed to that the moment I became an agent.” 

Deacon’s jaw dropped to his chest at his realization, and your accusation. He had left you? When? How? When was he supposed to find that out?

“Look, Sole, I’m a liar, I’ll give you that. But I’m a good one,” you rolled your eyes at him, a scoff sounding from your throat, “so, I wouldn’t even attempt to lie to you if I could see that you absolutely knew the truth.” 

“God, if you’ve got a point, make it, asshole.”

“Ouchies, no need for name calling there, slappy. I’m just trying to figure out the miscommunication issue we’ve got going on here.” You glared at him, and he was forced to continue. 

“The truth is,” Deacon looked down at the floor as he spoke softly to you, feeling as though the words were being wrenched from his throat, “I only left because I thought you had first. I woke up, and you were gone. Your things were gone. I thought that was it, that you were done with our… partnership. Done with me. And hey, I can’t say I’d blame you. Especially if you’d really think I could just up and leave after spending a night like that with you.”

“Oh.” you whispered, before trying to explain yourself, “I wasn’t-- I didn’t just leave, I mean, I went up to give High Rise the MILA for Tom. I was gone for five minutes, Deacon. I was coming right back.” The two of you stood a moment, as realization washed over you. And a bit of regret, too. And a sprinkle of foolishness. 

Finally, he brought his gaze up to meet your eyes. Hoping his apology was as evident on his face as it was on yours. You brought your hand to his cheek, soothing over the angry red mark that you had left earlier, and Deacon flinched slightly at your touch, his eyes falling once again to the floor. 

“It really only took you five minutes to think that I had left you?” You asked gently, the anger that had once been prevalent in your voice dissolving into concern. Deacon chuckled dryly.

“Haven’t I taught you anything? When you assume the worst, it’s a lot harder to be disappointed.”  

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. But I bet it makes it all the better when you find out you were wrong.” Deacon smiled weakly at you, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, no. I’m not seeing the appeal in being wrong just yet.” The hand that still rested on his cheek slid to the back of his neck, grasping firmly as you pulled his face towards yours. The pressure of your brow displaced Deacon’s shades as you crashed your lips into his. He toppled backwards against the wall of the catacombs as you pressed more forcefully into him, his arms falling behind him to steady himself against the cold brick, as your unoccupied hand slunk up to his chest, keeping him pinned between you and the wall. You pulled your head back, but kept your hands in place as you murmured, 

“What about now?”

“Hmm?” Deacon’s ginger eyebrows raised above his glasses as his mind went blank. You cocked an eyebrow at him, a smirk forming on your face. 

“Oh, right. I suppose so. Though, I think I’m gonna need a few reminders every once in a while.” 

“Hmm,” you mused, “I think that can be arranged.”

Hancock: 

     The ghoul awoke with a purr, stretching one ruined arm out to blindly search for your sleeping body. He distinctly remembered curling up with you wrapped tight in his embrace before lulling off into the best sleep he's had in years. For the first time in months he didn't have the nagging ache of wishing you were pressed against him as he settled in for the night. The thoughts of you lying so close but so painfully out of reach were finally pushed from his head to make room for the sheer bliss of being able to touch you, to feel your unbelievably soft skin, to breathe in your sweet scent and relish in the closeness of your body against his. 

That was of course, until this morning. Hancock opened his eyes lazily, his dark gaze sweeping over the mess of bed sheets and pillows that littered the plush mattress. The sight of the disheveled blankets bringing back heated memories of last night. Before his brow furrowed at the realization of the current situation he found himself in. Hancock slowly rose from the bed, his dark eyes searching the surrounding room for any sign of you. He found his trousers, his hat, his coat... but nothing of yours remained where they had been tossed last night. If Hancock had a nose, it would have been curling alongside the rest of his scrunched up face as he thought of you leaving in such a hurry this morning. Hancock felt a pain in his chest and immediately craved a hit of something, anything, to numb the hollow feeling that began spreading through his body. 

     Sunlight shone through the windows of the old state house, the beams of light diffused by the ringlets of smoke rising from the ghoul's mouth as he took yet another hit of jet, trying hard to keep his mind blank, but inevitably failing as his thoughts returned to last night's events. Coming almost in slow motion, he picked apart every movement; every touch, kiss, lick, and caress, nitpicking every action he had made and thinking about what he might've done to warrant your desertion of him. But deep down, he knew that his actions mattered little. You had assured him on numerous occasions that him being a ghoul didn't bother you, but you had never really seen him before. Not in the way you saw him last night. Had never felt his rough skin on yours, had never run your hands up his ravaged body, the softness of your touch only amplifying the harshness of his own leathery flesh. You had never uncovered the gross discoloration of his radiation-ravaged body. But last night, you had finally gotten a good, long look. And here he was, thinking that you of all people could’ve seen past that. You had been able to forgive him for his past, after all. Hadn’t you? But maybe that had been part of it too. Maybe you’d finally realized all that he really was. A reckless and cowardly poor excuse for a man, who spends his life in a haze of delirium rather than facing the pain of being alive. A pain that he had inflicted upon himself to break away from that same self-righteous fog that he’d found himself in in the first place. It’s no wonder you’re gone. Maybe you were never even really here. Maybe you were just another daydream of his, just another hallucination. God, if that was the case, he didn’t even know what he would do. After having you so close, being with you like this? He didn’t really see the point in living without you.  

Hancock sighed heavily at the thought. He didn't know how long he sat simply thinking, his perception of time temporarily altered by the jet, but he had to do something to alleviate this torture, and if chems wouldn't do it... well.... 

  "I need some air," he rasped aloud as he stood and headed for the balcony, donning his coat and hat on his way out. The mayor had to keep up appearances, after all. 

He almost didn't see you as he stepped through the door, the way you leaned out against the rail, eyes closed, a soft, beautiful smile playing at your plush lips. Hancock could've stared at you until the world around him turned to dust, but you moved long before that musing could come to reality. Turning to look at him, your smile brightened further, and Hancock couldn't keep himself from touching you. He grabbed one of your hands in his, using his other to caress your pink-dusted cheek, affirming that you truly were physically there, standing in front of him. 

     "And what were you doing out here all by your lonesome? Trying to give a ghoul a little taste of heartbreak?" You let out a soft laugh, 

     "No, sweetheart," you called him affectionately, leaning into his light touch upon your cheek, "I thought that you would sleep longer. I just wanted to get out and enjoy some sunshine." You turned once again towards the morning sun, the rays highlighting every one of your perfect features. Hancock beamed at the sight of you, before turning and looking out at his city in thought, 

     "Hmm," he mused, "Sunshine, huh?"

MacCready:   

      MacCready had been lying on his back for a while now, staring at the crumbling ceiling of the dingy little room at the hotel Rexford. This certainly hadn’t been his idea of an ideal location for your first time together, but who was he to complain? It was safe, and private, and it had been a damn good night. But he’d been staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours, waiting for you to stir. He’d thought it was odd, given the fact that you always woke up first when the two of you traveled together, but he’d like to think you hadn’t yet stirred because of the way he had exhausted you last night, his chest puffed out at the thought of it and he let out a contented sigh. The thoughts of your night together spilled into his consciousness, and he stretched out his arms in front of him, snickering slightly at the soreness of his body, and suddenly, he couldn’t wait for you any longer. 

 “Geeze, you awake yet, sleepyhead?” MacCready rolled onto his side to face the lump under the covers. He ran his hand over the mattress, over to you, but as he reached the lump beneath the blankets, all he felt was plushness. He withdrew the covers from atop you, only to find… pillows? Just a pillow, and a blanket. MacCready’s body spasmed as he jolted out from under the covers on his side of the bed, his head flying from side to side as he looked for you. 

“Sole?” He cocked an eyebrow at the empty hotel room, and as he noticed your absence, his expression quickly changed from confusion to one of anger. You had left? But why? Had he done something wrong? He didn’t think so… but maybe he just... wasn’t everything you expected from him. Feeling like he’d been punched in the stomach, MacCready climbed from the bed, grabbing his trousers from the floor and stomping around the room in pursuit of the remainder of his clothes, not failing to notice how everything belonging to you was no longer in the room either. Heat rose to MacCready’s face as he pulled on his duster, but he wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment, or anger, or heartache, or some combination thereof. 

What the heck? He thought, you were the one to suggest doing this, why would you do that if you were just gonna leave me like this? Right when MacCready had thought he’d found the one. The person who could help him move on from Lucy after everything he’d been through. You were perfect, not just for him, but for Duncan too. You were selfless, and kind, compassionate, resourceful, sometimes you were a bit of a sarcastic ass, but he loved that about you. You were a parent and a spouse, just like he had been. You were both lost, and broken when you found each other, just a couple halves that had made each other whole. You were his future... Or so he’d thought. But who was he kidding? You were so out of his league, the two of you weren’t even playing the same damn sport. He should’ve known this would be the outcome. But then, why the heck did you let it go this far? Sure, he was the one who had poured all of his feelings out onto the table, but he didn’t know what he’d expected you to do. He just felt like he would explode if he held them in any longer, especially when the two of you spent so much time together. He saw you every damn day, and all he wanted to do was hold your hand, he wanted to sleep beside you and hold onto you through the night, to have you run your fingers through his hair and tell him that you felt the same way. MacCready never imagined you’d do something like this to him, never thought you’d get his hopes up, dangling the future he'd always dreamed of having right in his face before ruthlessly snatching it away. 

He rolled his eyes at his own ridiculous train of thought and groaned as he bent down to grab his rifle. 

“At least you paid for the room up front.” he mumbled as he placed his hat on his head and made his way to the door.

 MacCready’s footsteps fell heavily onto each stair as he headed down to the lobby, wondering where he’d go from there. He considered going and looking for you, but what was the point? Clearly if you wanted to see him, you wouldn’t have freakin left. Was he really petty enough to seek you out just to tell you how messed up it was that you’d left him the way that you did? Maybe… but he needed a drink first. To the Third Rail it was, then. What was it, 10am? He could drink at 10am. He could do whatever the heck he wanted, especially now that you were gone. 

MacCready reached the bottom of the stairs, looking straight past the small crowd of people that were gathered in the lobby as he made his way to the exit. Just as his hand reached the door, he heard his name being shouted. His body shuddered at the sound of your voice, and he stood stock straight as he decided what to do. One fist clenched as the other hand pushed the door open and he crossed the threshold into Goodneighbor. The door never closed behind him, and he felt an iron grip on his forearm as he tried to head towards the Third Rail. 

“Ow, hey!” He spun to face you, face slightly contorted in his confusion. What was he supposed to think now? He was still angry and hurt, but should he be? Ugh. 

“Wait, Mac. I know how it must’ve looked, but really, it’s just a misunderstanding.” He stared at you, his deep blue eyes clouded with suspicion. He didn’t say a word, not wanting to ruin anything by making false assumptions or accusations. Instead, he waited for you to explain, wrenching his wrist from your grip as he folded his arms over his chest. 

Before you could continue, Rufus came up from behind, asking quietly if he could go through the doors. 

“Come on,” you urged, “let’s get out of the doorway.” You herded MacCready to one of the couches in the lobby, seating yourself next to him. 

“Alright. Explain.” He said, brows still furrowed. You almost snickered at how put-out the sniper seemed. You couldn’t quite tell if it was an act or not, but knowing MacCready… yeah, probably not an act. 

“Rufus was having some trouble with Drinkin’ Buddy.” You told him, “The bot shut down and no one could get him to turn on again. This morning, some sort of warning light started flashing, so he came up and asked if I could help him fix it. I would’ve asked you to come along, but you were still asleep, and I know how you hate being woken up…” You trailed off, waiting for him to say something in response. 

Man, MacCready felt moronic. Why had he been so quick to assume the worst? Okay, maybe not the worst, the worst would’ve been… Well, that’s not important. He shook his head, finally letting himself breathe deeply again. 

“You sure that was it?” He asked, uncertainty coating his tone as he narrowed his eyes at you. 

You leaned forward, smoothing a hand up his chest to the back of his neck as you brought your lips to his. Your fingers fiddled with the hair at the base of his neck and held him to you as your mouth moved against his, trying to answer his question without having to use your words. This was better, anyway. You felt a hand move to your waist as he relaxed into the kiss, his strong grip pulling you nearly into his lap as he returned your fervor. Only when you needed air did you pull back from him, your heartbeat still racing as you watched his gorgeous eyes flutter open. 

“Did that answer your question?” You asked cheekily. He smiled, face still pink from the heat of your kiss. 

“I don’t know, boss, I may still need some more, ah, reassuring.” You snickered at that, and glanced back at Clair’s desk. 

“Any more convincing and we may need that room again. You think if we go now, we won’t have to pay the hotel for a second day?” 

God, I think I’m in love. MacCready thought as he nodded to you, a boyish grin spreading across his lips. At that, both of you scrambled off of the couch, quickly making your way towards the stairs and up to the hotel room.

Nick: 

     The synth didn't sleep, but he didn't mind it. He stayed awake beside you in bed, replaying memories of the night over and over in his mind. Although he wasn't sure how comfortable it could be, he had his arms curled around you, holding you tightly to his synthetic chest while the memories of his favorite night (in either of his lifetimes) were running through his mind. You snored softly in his embrace, utterly at peace, as he gazed affectionately at your soft features. Nick didn't often feel blissful, and he never would've imagined himself in this situation, being completely content with the person he admired, and adored so adamantly, safely wrapped in his arms. He should've known it wouldn't last. 

Without a sound, he felt as you slowly and gently pried his arms off of your body, climbing off of the shared mattress. Nick figured that you would give him an explanation; perhaps once you were out of bed? When you went to go and dress yourself? Before walking through the door? But you were silent throughout, even as he heard the door click shut behind you. Nick closed his eyes tightly, sighing to himself and wondering if the pain in his chest was substantial enough to cause him to short circuit. What had he done wrong? Even if it was nothing, he would understand why you had left. Even at his best, Nick could hardly amount to what any average human could give you, and he could never give you everything you wanted. Everything you needed, and deserved. He wasn't real. So he wouldn't blame you for leaving, hell, if he hadn't been so caught up in his own blissful feelings, he might've encouraged you to go. And he had, before last night had truly begun, he recalled asking you if he was what you really wanted. Then, you had seemed so eager, almost laughing at the thought that he couldn't be enough, after all this time the two of you had spent together, and all your pining over him. These thoughts circled through the synth's mind as he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. He willed himself to grab a file and get to work, to do something, anything, to distract himself from the pain, but it was as though the weight in his chest was too much to bear. The height of his earlier high only amplifying the depths of his current low. 

     Every attempt to look through a case file was a failure, his yellow eyes roaming the first few lines of writing before his mind drifted off. To thoughts of where you could have gone, whether or not you would come back, and thoughts of last night. At the way you made his pistons fire at triple times their normal rate, the way you made his metal heart flutter in his chest, and the way you had come so beautifully undone in his arms. That was it. The moment he needed to remember for the rest of his days on this ruined earth. At that very moment, nothing else seemed to matter. He was sure he'd been foolish before, thinking you could never care for him in such a way. How foolish he'd felt then... it was nothing compared to now. The synth brought his metallic hands up to his face, the tips of his fingers displacing the worn hat on his head. He imagined tears flowing from beneath the heels of his hands as he dug them into his eye sockets, but of course none came. Would that have been acceptable? If he had been able to shed real tears, like a real human being, would you have stayed after last night? If he had been able-- 

The door to the agency burst open at that moment, interrupting the old detective's thoughts, and sending his head shooting back to see who had busted in so aggressively, his hat flying from its usual place atop his head. 

The fact that the synth couldn't breathe didn't matter in this moment as he huffed a massive sigh of relief at the glorious sight of you, the light of the early morning sun casting a warm glow around your body. 

"Oh doll..." the words escaped him as a smile began to spread across his synthetic lips, "for a moment there, I thought you were an angel." You giggled at that, your flushed smile causing the whirring in his chest to increase exponentially. 

"I can't tell you how glad I am to see you, I was just about to open up a missing person's case on ya." You finally closed the door and made your way to his desk, leaning down to give his cheek a chaste kiss as you smoothed your hand over his chest, stopping to grab at his tie and pull him up towards you. 

"Always the professional, hmm detective?" You smirked at him and he gave you a crooked smile before bringing his good hand up to stroke his thumb over one of your soft cheeks. 

"Although," you continued, teasingly bending down to pick his hat up from the floor, "your uniform doesn’t seem to be up to the usual standards." 

"Oh? Is that what you think?" He said, reaching for the hat before you held it behind your back, a mischievous grin forming on your lips, 

"Sure is. You don't have your hat.”

“Oh? And whose fault is that?” He interjected playfully. 

“And” you continued, “look at this coat, full of rips. It’s practically in shambles." you ran a finger down his side, allowing the tip of your fingernail to catch at the tiny holes littering the worn fabric.  

"Hey now, my coat's always looked like that. You didn't seem to find fault in it when you were cold last night." You shook your head, 

"Nope, I'm sorry Mr. Valentine, it's all in disarray, I'm afraid we'll just have to scrap the whole thing." 

"Well now, if that’s what you were after, you could've just told me, darling. No need to insult--" His sentence remained unfinished as you tightened your grip on his tie, pulling him in for a kiss that was anything but chaste. He had so many questions left unanswered, but for reasons unknown, he couldn't seem to think of a single coherent inquiry to voice to you in this instance. Looks like it will just have to wait until later.

Preston: 

     Preston felt uneasy. His eyes had opened slowly when he had awoken, his heartbeat had remained consistently calm, dapples of sunlight shone through the holes in the curtains beside the bed, indicating that he had slept through the night. Why did everything feel so… so peaceful? No nightmares, no panic attacks, the usual insomnia Preston tended to face in the wee hours of the morning had never reared its infuriating head. 

Then he remembered. 

It was all because of you. Amazing, incredible, infallible, irresistible you. Heat flooded to his face as a coy smile touched his lips. Suddenly, he felt he had to be near you, he had to see you to believe what his mind told him had happened last night.  

“Mhm, good morning," he sighed, as he turned to face your side of the bed, "how are you-- ?" Preston's eyebrows creased as he noticed your absence, his voice trailing off as he realized his question had no recipient. 

"Sole?" He sat up, rubbing his awakening eyes before glancing around the room of your Sanctuary house. 

"Sole?!" Preston said, louder than the first time. Perhaps you had simply gone to the washroom? Or to the kitchen maybe? Rising from the bed, Preston fetched his trousers from the pile of clothes that rested at the foot of the bed, trying not to dwell too much on the thoughts that it inspired. 

But... only my clothes are here. He reflected, feeling a pang in his chest, before reminding himself that you might want to be clothed, wherever you’d gone, even if it was just in your own house. He released a bit of his anxiety in a quick breath, before heading for the bedroom door, he opened it gingerly, glancing down the hallway before making his way to each of the rooms in search of you. He did so slowly, hesitantly, in fear of what he might find. Or, rather, afraid of what he wouldn't find. 

Preston stood in the empty kitchen, numb, his fear utterly realized. He collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table, afraid to let himself think, but unable to do anything else in his current state. Why, why, why did he have to act on his feelings for you? He just had to tell you how you made him feel, he had to be vulnerable and had to “put himself out there.” He just had to be intimate with you, he had to ruin everything. Why couldn’t he have just been happy with the way things were, with you as his friend? There he was, his life in danger, unable to help the people who needed him most, the Minutemen in complete disarray after having failed those they vowed to protect, and there you were. Here to save their asses, to turn his disaster of a life into one full of hope, full of light, and now, you were gone. You had left because he was an inarticulate, inexperienced, greedy, fool of a man who couldn't keep his mouth shut and just settle for having you as his general, and as his best friend. Why had he needed more? He didn't deserve more, not with you, hell, the whole damn world didn't deserve you, so how did he ever think you could want to be with him? 

But you told me you did. You said you cared about me and-- No. Actions speak louder than words, and your absence after the first night you two had spent together… that spoke volumes. 

Maybe you finally realized that I'm nothing special. Not compared to you. Maybe you realized that, next to you, and without you, I'm nothing at all. Preston balled a fist and pounded it weakly against your worn kitchen table, the dull thud resounding through the empty house. He sighed, sliding the chair back with a groan as he rose to his feet, heading once again to the back of the house. Entering your room without you felt like a crime, but he figured he might as well remove his things, and put on the remainder of his clothes, before leaving.

He stared down at the pile of tousled fabric at the foot of the bed, slowly untangling each individual article, secretly hoping that, if he took long enough, you would eventually make your way back into the room. That you would give him some inconsequential excuse for your absence, and he could forget all of the confusion and uncertainty of the morning. As Preston gingerly began to re-dress himself, thoughts came unbidden to the forefront of his mind. The way your soft, gentle fingers had undone each of the buttons of his shirt, the pressure tickling his neck, then his chest, down his stomach to his naval, your hands wasting no time as they moved upward to push the silky material off over his shoulders. He recalled the feeling of the smooth fabric of his scarf, as it unraveled slowly around his neck, a chill creeping onto the sensitive skin before you had chased it away quickly with the heated touch of your sweet lips. He remembered the breathy gasp that had escaped from you as your hands grasped tightly at the lapels of his coat, his mouth colliding with yours over and over again as his mind screamed for him to stop, to slow down, to ignore the fire blazing beneath his skin. 

This is your general! It had told him, this is your friend, your recently widowed friend, your friend that you desperately need to keep in your life! If you screw this up, how will you ever be able to forgive yourself?

He should have listened to his head then. Why hadn’t he? Preston was sure that, if he had, it would have spared him from the awkward discussion he was bound to have with his superior officer in the near future. It certainly would have saved him the pain he was feeling now. 

At the same time though... Last night had been the best night of Preston’s life. Did he really regret having those memories now? Yes, he had to. After all, what did last night matter if it hadn’t made you happy? 

Preston shook his head, releasing a breath he was sure he’d been holding since he left the kitchen. Pulling up his boots, he grabbed the remainder of his things and left the room, glancing back at the empty bed one last time before placing his hat atop his head and pulling the door shut softly behind him.

The beams of morning sunlight chased away the fog that had settled in the streets of Sanctuary, bits of bright blue sky peeking through the gaps in the clouds. Looks like it’ll be a nice day. He thought somberly, trying desperately to perk himself up, lest he bump into any settlers on his patrol. He wouldn’t want to worry anyone with his troubled expression, and he certainly wasn’t prepared to answer any questions about his current state. Preston started towards the bridge, planning to begin his patrol of the perimeter from there. He was so focused on his destination, he nearly failed to notice the hand waving him down from the side of the street. When he did turn to look, his breath caught in his throat. 

“Sole!” He exclaimed, much too loudly, as he noticed you, nearly dropping his laser musket. A wounded settler was seated on the curb, you were kneeling next to him on one side, wrapping a bandage around his arm, with Sturges standing on the other, an empty stimpak in hand. As soon as he processed what he was seeing, the Minuteman lieutenant tried desperately to compose himself, a blush inadvertently creeping up his cheeks as his eyes met yours. He adjusted his grip on his musket, and cleared his throat, trying to hide his embarrassment.  

“Is everything alright over here?” He asked, making his way over to the group, “What can I do to help, general?” you gave him a small smile, assuring him everything was alright, and finished tending to the settler who, as Preston found out, was a new arrival who’d run into a pack of mongrels on his way to Sanctuary. When they were all certain the settler would be okay, Preston quietly asked the general if they had a moment to talk, much to Sturges’ amusement. 

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it, then. And don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” Sturges slapped Preston on the back as he passed by, snickering to himself. Preston felt heat rising to his face again and quickly motioned for you to follow him behind the house, hoping to get a little privacy. He took in a sharp breath, before releasing it slowly, and you smiled warmly at him. That’s a good sign, I suppose.

“How are you feeling?” He asked you quietly. Your eyes looked past Preston, almost as though you hadn’t heard him, and he felt a pang in his chest. Turning your head slightly, you glanced to either side, ensuring no one else was looking on, before turning back to him, looking into his eyes as a flush touched your cheeks. 

“If I’m honest?” you started, and Preston’s breath caught in his throat, “I’m a little sore.” you said with a little smile, and Preston felt his knees wobble as his legs nearly gave out in relief.  

“Heh, if I’m honest, me too.” He said, shyly looking down at his feet as he felt heat rise to his cheeks. “So, about that,” he continued, “last night, I mean. Did you, ahem, did you like--”

In an instant, your lips were on his own. The kiss was soft, but forceful, affirming all that Preston was uncertain of. 

“Last night was… amazing, Preston.” You told him after you had pulled away, your hands resting on his shoulders, keeping his body pressed to yours. 

“Then, when you left this morning ... ?”

“Sturges was looking for you when he found the settler on his patrol this morning, but he obviously didn’t find you in your bed, so he came to find me and--”

Preston groaned, an embarrassed smile forcing its way to his lips, 

“He didn't see anything, did he?” You giggled at that,

“No, honey, he didn’t see anything.” You rolled your eyes playfully, before pulling at his shoulders, urging his ear to your lips, “But someone did. And I hear they really liked what they saw. You know who it was?” you whispered. 

“Who?” you heard him breathe.

“Hmm, you really don’t know?” You sneaked a peek at his face, noting the goofy grin that spread all the way to his warm, chocolate eyes, and you couldn’t help but lean further into him. Preston drew an arm around you, his hand on your lower back, keeping you anchored to him, and all apprehension following this morning’s events seemed to be forgotten.  

“You might just have to remind me.” He said cheekily, pulling you into another kiss.

X6-88: 

     The tightness in his chest was the least of the courser's worries as he woke to find himself utterly alone. You were gone, that, he knew. But where-- no, how? How had you woken and readied yourself without also waking him? 

He never should have agreed to last night. Not only was it completely inappropriate, given your future position in the Institute, but it had distracted him from his main duty. The most important mission he'd ever been assigned: to watch over his charge, to keep them safe. To protect you. He had grown distracted, and now you were gone. The future director of the Institute, someone he respected and idolized, a person he cared about, more than anyone he'd ever come across in his existence, was just gone. His loyalty to you was akin to his loyalty to the Institute itself, and that was non-negotiable, unbreakable, hard-wired into him. You had won his devotion on your own, which made it that much more meaningful. And that much more painful when he realized that you might not feel the same loyalty for him. But why would you? And why did he care? He was allowed to feel allegiance towards you without you needing to return it, was he not? But … if you had felt this loyalty for him, you surely wouldn't have left him alone, correct? At least that's what it seemed like, but X6 wasn't particularly knowledgeable when it came to this subject. He didn't know, these thoughts confused him, and normally you were the one to help him make sense of his more... human tendencies and emotions, but clearly in this instance, he was on his own. You had treated him like no one ever had, like a real person, and so he thought he could start acting like one. Feeling like one. But he was wrong. X6 wasn't wrong often, and he hated the feeling. In his current state, every feeling he had was a negative one. He decided to shut it out. These feelings weren't helping him protect you, which was still his mission, reciprocated loyalty or not. Sitting around, contemplating his emotions didn't help him to find you. 

  The courser sat up and climbed off the mattress, grabbing his clothes that he had folded neatly beside the bed last night, noting that only his were present. After you had fallen asleep, X6 had untangled his body from your own as gently as he could, so as not to wake you, and had placed your clothes beside the bed in preparation for the morning. He had retrieved his courser uniform from the floor, with the intent of dressing himself and sitting on watch for the night, but you had stirred, sleepily requesting he return to the space beside you. He remembered hesitating, before folding his coat and placing it on the table beside your own clothes and doing as you had asked. Sliding beneath the covers, he had laid on his side, placing an arm around your waist. He remembered wondering if what he had done was correct, if he was doing this all right, but you had seemed happy, and that was all that mattered to him. So, if he had done nothing wrong, why had you left? Taken your clothes, and your bag, and your gun, and vanished without a trace? And when had he started caring about your happiness? Your health, and your safety, yes, he should certainly care about those, given the nature of his orders. But now he cared about how he made you feel. He wanted you to be happy, and he wanted to be the one to make you feel that way. But why?

X6 shook his head, attempting to clear it, and grabbed his rifle from the top of the dresser. It was distracting thoughts like these that had forced him into his current predicament, he wasn't about to make that mistake again. Placing his shades onto his face, he prepared to head through the door, and out into the wastes to search for you.

  X6 surveyed the surrounding area outside of your home in Sanctuary: the gas station, Abernathy farm, Tenpines bluff, even the inside of Vault 111. Yet, there was no sign of you. He returned to Sanctuary and found your house still empty, the hollowness growing in his chest as he realized that your leaving really had been intentional. Elsewise, he would have stumbled across you, or some sign of you, by now, right? He stood in your old kitchen, his knuckles paled at the death grip he held on the edge of the counter, his jaw clenching as he tried to hold his emotions at bay. 

How could he have agreed to last night? And why would you have presented the idea if you had meant to do this to him in the end? With a groan of frustration, X6 pounded a hand against the countertop, leaving a small indent in the shape of his fist. Not only had you left him, you had done so without warning, without explanation, and now he couldn't find you. He couldn't find you. That's what he did, he was a relentless hunter, a cold pursuant, he completed all of his missions efficiently, he followed Institute protocol, he followed orders. What he didn't do was get wrapped up in human emotions, he didn't throw caution to the wind and give into his most base desires. He was a synth. He didn't yearn, or want, or love. Or at least he hadn't. 

Not until he met you. 

The courser sighed, fists still clenched in frustration. He didn't know what to do, you were his mission, but if you commanded him to leave--? But you never actually had ordered him away... In his eyes, there was only one option for him to consider.

  "Unit X6-88, ready to relay back to the institute. Alone." 

   A flash of blue, and he was back. No one asked him to report in, and he didn't offer. He started straight towards the SRB, wondering what the consequences would be for his behavior. A memory wipe would be the best outcome, especially if... Oh. But if they saw the memories from last night, what would happen to you? 

X6 stopped in his tracks, turning quickly to go up the stairs that ascended to the residential portion of the Institute. Once again, he was at a loss. He didn't want to lose those memories, but more than that, he didn't want anyone else to see them. You were the first person he's ever met that treated him as a human, saw him as one, made him feel like one, and he couldn't bear the thought of what the Institute scientists would say about you, say to you, or do to you, if they saw what you had done with him. The courser looked down at his feet as he walked quickly, moving instinctively towards your quarters. He turned down the hallway, and recoiled at the figure that appeared as your door dragged open. X6’s eyes widened beneath his shades, and he cleared his throat to keep himself from gasping in surprise as your eyes met his. 

"There you are! I was wondering when you would finally turn up, I finished with the meeting hours ago. I was just about to go out and look for you. Don't tell me you slept in this late?" You said with a grin that spread all the way to your glorious eyes. X6 couldn't form words, he just stood gawking at you, his mouth half open, looking like a complete fool. Right, the meeting with Father. How had he forgotten?

"Is everything okay?" You asked, your smile being replaced by an expression of concern. The courser didn't answer, he still couldn't keep his thoughts in order; instead, he stepped forward until his chest pressed against yours, urging you to back into your quarters. You did so rather hesitantly, a confused expression causing your brows to crinkle. When the door had closed behind him, X6 slowly reached out his arms, wrapping them tightly around you, just as you had shown him last night, he pulled you to his chest and held you firmly. The warmth of you, your soft hair and sweet scent calmed his strained nerves, and he finally allowed himself to take a deep breath and close his eyes, just for a moment. As quickly as he'd initiated it, he pulled away from the hug, squaring his shoulders and straightening his posture, 

"I'm glad you're safe, ma'am/sir."

[fallout-snippets]

Companions react to a sole that has a metric fuck ton of health problems and has to take a ton of medicine just to make sure they don’t fall apart but because it is the postapocalypse they have to raid old hospitals and pharmacies for ingredients and medicine or (if sole is desperate) just robbing people of medicine so they don’t die

Cait thinks it’s not much different from what they do otherwise so she doesn’t care a whole lot. Is concerned about when they can’t find more, isn’t too bothered about robbing people, it’s about surviving. But that’ll run out soon too. Enjoys living in the moment though. Even if Sole needs medication to survive doesn’t mean something else wont kill them. It’s all about the now.

Codsworth doesn’t like that Sole is taking from other people but he also wants Sole to survive. Goes out of his way to find supplies for them so they don’t have to become criminals to feel healthy. Does everything to make things easier for Sole too. Would carry them if he could, makes sure they eat regularly and hydrate, always things they like, and suggests taking a rest before they can feel it themselves.

Curie knows that objectively robbing is bad but the morally grey area between needing it desperately to survive makes her super confused. Actually comes up with natural remedies so Sole doesn’t have to worry. In a way she studies Sole through their travels, makes notes about how they’re affected, in which situations and what they do to fix it. Comes up with cures and alternative fixes when she figures something out.

Danse thinks it’s wrong to steal but makes a note to make it up for the people when he can. Sole doesn’t have much of a choice and he understands their plight but also thinks that they’re in a situation where they can’t make a good call. Suggests that they stay onboard the prydwen so they don’t jeopardize their team with their poor health. Sole has much to offer but it doesn’t have to be on the battlefield.

Deacon tries to find ways to help them without hurting other people. Turns his back to it when they run out of time and supplies. God knows Deacon has fucked up in the past, they’ll just have to make up for it later. However long it takes. Tries to cheer them up a lot, take their mind off the stress of not having enough and knowing it’s not getting better without help that barely exists anymore. Goes through his channels to find something else that can help.

Dogmeat just wants Sole to be happy and healthy. No matter what.

Hancock will not stand for Sole taking from others, even for their own survival. Wants to help them however he can, he knows enough about chems for him to possibly make a cocktail to at least alleviate symptoms, but there’s no way he’s okay with Sole stealing from others who also need it to survive. Sole doesn’t get to decide their life is more important. Takes it at their pace, there’s no need to rush anything. It’s not like he’s their nurse or anything but he knows enough about feeling like shit and wanting a fix to alleviate it when there’s no chems around.

MacCready is all for stealing. It’s all about surviving. Doesn’t like that they’re putting other people at risk but Sole needs it too. And Sole is busting butts trying to make a difference in the world. It sucks but it is what it is. He’s concerned about eventually running out completely and how Sole’s health will develop into but like Cait he knows you can die from anything at anytime.

Nick is disappointed but understands the difficult situation they’re in. Like Codsworth he makes an effort to make sure it doesn’t come to stealing. Does what he can to ease their symptoms. Takes the lead in most situations, not in a this-is-not-up-to-you-kind of way, still follows Soles directions, but protects them.

Piper isn’t okay with stealing. It’s a hard and difficult situation but it doesn’t give Sole the right to take a chance of survival from someone else. Would’ve been a great detective though because she knows exactly who to ask and what to say in order to get other options. Makes sure there’s always something in her back pocket just in case Sole needs it.

Preston absolutely will not stand for Sole stealing critical medicine from other people. Makes it clear the second the realization crosses his mind. Promises to find other ways. Surely some form of the medicine is still being produced, and they’ll just have to get it there. Does whatever he can to support them, he owes it to them. Will literally carry them on his back when they become too fatigued, feeds them even if they say they’re not hungry. Does back off when it’s called for. Knows what it’s like and sometimes you need someone to push and sometimes you need to be left alone.

Strong doesn’t give a hoot about stealing. It’s not a word in his vocabulary. Doesn’t completely understand why they’re taking a bunch of stuff, assumes they’re chems for fun or battle prowess. As long as Sole goes forward, he follows.

X6-88 thinks the meds are coming to better use with Sole and doesn’t mind taking it from someone else. Suggests visiting the Institute doctors for a possibility of eliminating what ails them. Does whatever they ask of him otherwise, of course. Eventually takes initiative and helps them before it becomes apparent that they need help.

Ada knows stealing is bad but what is Sole supposed to do? Just suffer? Usually leaves something else in place, things she thinks are equally useful. Doesn’t know what Sole needs but does whatever she’s asked to. Tells them stories to get their mind off of the struggles.

Longfellow understands the struggle with failing health but his came with age and Sole is too young to be dealing with it. Doesn’t approve of stealing but won’t berate them for it, when you’re in pain you can do desperate things. Does his best to comfort them, doesn’t know how else to help. Probably doesn’t entirely understand what the issues are but can see the struggle and that’s enough for him.

Gage is fine with stealing. Survival of the fittest and all that. Maybe Sole isn’t actually the fittest but it’s the thought of it. He switches between being impressed and being annoyed at Soles health. Impressed because they’ve achieved so much despite having the cards stacked against them, annoyed because he knows they’re strong and hates seeing them weak. Steps in when he’s necessary but prefers letting Sole ‘overcome’ their enemies, thinks it’ll make them stronger.