#gn! sole survivor

[harveywritings92]

Nick: What do you call disobeying the law?

Sole: A hobby. *Hancock hi-fives them*

Nick: *Crosses his arms*

Sole: That we do not engage in!

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Day 6 -- Travis Miles

The (nsfw) details for Kinktober, Day 6 are just below the cut!

Minors, please don't interact.

Deep Throating with Travis x g/n! Sole/Reader

Just a note, this is with a Pre-Confident Man Travis! Just because he is superior that way fits the prompt better like that, I think. 🤷‍♂️ But AH, have I mentioned how much I love Travis? Oh, I have? Well, I'm here to say it again. I LOVE this man so dang much, he deserves everything <3

Here is the link to the Kinktober 2022 Event list so you can stay up-to-date, or re-visit these works as you please.

I hope y'all enjoy!

Includes: Deep throating, making out, dry humping, first times, blow jobs, first time blow jobs, cum swallowing, cum shot, pillow talk, Travis being awkward and adorable and Sole LOVING it

3.8k words.

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His lips were still, tentative, but curious against yours, the hesitancy propelling you forwards in an act of compensation for his own uncertainty. You prodded at his lips with your tongue, grinning at the way his body tensed, the way his hand flexed from where it laid on your thigh. You pulled away slightly, testing, and Travis did just as you hoped, following the feel of your mouth as it nearly left him. 

Your hand brushed over his jaw, your lips relenting to his pursuit as your fingers grazed over the nape of his neck, the short, black hairs there tickling over your skin. Another asking prod of your tongue, and he relented, opening his mouth slowly to allow you to explore. A vibration ran through from him to you as he groaned some semblance of your name against you, his contact deepening at the feel of you, at the taste, at the overwhelming and unfamiliar sensation. 

Travis scooched closer to you on the couch, one knee bumping into yours as he laid a hand at your waist without any semblance of previous consideration. 

It made you smile against him. 

Travis’s thoughts, once moving faster within his mind than the Diamond City radio waves he sends hurtling through the Commonwealth, now slowed to a dense pace; no thought able to form completely before it was pushed aside by another. It was one of the first times in his life that Travis felt like he was acting on pure instinct. He was always so thoughtful, worrisome, to the point of crippling immobility, but now he could reflect your movement against him. It was easy. It was thrilling. 

It wasn’t nearly as frightening as he’d worried it’d be. 

It was the first time in a long time– maybe ever that he really felt… alive. Like he was living, instead of just existing. Just trying to survive. 

Your hand pulled his face closer to yours as you felt his lips knead against you, as you felt his tongue press to yours; and instead of pulling away, panicked, as you’d come to expect, he dragged the muscle against yours, coating your mouth in his taste, and your mind in arousal. 

You delighted in his exploration, in this confidence, whether it was purposeful on his part or not, and dared to press a little further. The couch creaked as you shifted, and Travis’s eyes peeped open to watch as you turned and brought one leg over him, straddling his lap while remaining pressed against him all at once. Both of his hands migrated to your hips, hungry to touch, but unwilling to grope as he kept the contact light against you. 

A slew of nonsensical expletives rattled around his head at your newfound closeness, a certain anxiety picking up where he’d thought it had begun to settle. It was hard to focus on, but there was something just… off. Something that he was worried about but unable to identify, something that had been pounding on the backdoor of his mind to get in, but that had been muffled and erased by the music you were making as you moved against him. 

In the next moment though, as you shifted forward in his lap, pressing closer to him, it all came crashing back into his mind. Travis pulled away as his heart leapt in his chest, his hands forcing you back– not off of him, but backwards to settle at the end of his thighs, just over his knees. 

Your features crinkled in bafflement, eyes blinking open in surprise at his sudden outburst. 

What happened? 

The fog slowly cleared from your mind, and Travis’s crimson face came into focus, his eyes wide with– 

Fear? 

“Travis?” You ventured quietly as he stared blankly downwards with wide eyes, his gaze settling on nothing you could see, some thought deep in his head. 

“I-I’m sorry.” He whispered. 

Your brows furrowed. 

“Sorry? What… What are you sorry for, baby?” 

“That wasn’t… I mean– I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t trying to make you–” His breaths kept cutting off his voice, and you flinched at the panic you could see flashing over his features. 

“Hey.” You said softly, one hand gently pressing to his chin, pulling his gaze up to meet yours. “I’m alright, Travis. Better than alright. I don’t even know what you’re apologizing for.”

His gaze flicked away again, his cheeks growing redder before your very eyes. 

“You… you, ah, you didn’t feel it?” 

You cocked your head, forcing your face into his line of sight. 

“I don’t think so, but… for arguments sake, you wanna tell me what I may or may not have felt?” 

“It…” He started, shaking his head before he could even get another word out. “It’s not really worth even mentioning. At all. It’s just… It’s disrespectful. It’s not– I mean, I just don’t want to insult you. Or anything.” 

Disrespectful? What? His tongue in my mouth? His hands on my waist? Hell, I did all of that first, should I be the one apologizing? 

“I didn’t see it as insulting. Or disrespectful. In fact, I… I like it. A lot.” You chuckled, feeling a heat of your own touch your cheeks. “I thought you did too.” 

“I-I did!” His head snapped up, eyes meeting yours of his own accord this time, “I did. Do. I really– I liked it. I just… So, ah, so you’re not… um, mad?” 

You broke into a grin, shaking your head. 

“Not in the slightest. I like you, remember? A lot.” You pressed forward, catching his cheek beneath your lips in a swift kiss. “And… I want to keep, um, liking you a little more tonight. If you want that too.” 

Travis’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his ears burning, but he nodded to you quickly. 

“Y-yes. I, ah, I think I would like that.” 

You laughed, even as you pressed your lips to his again, your hands returning to wrap around the back of his neck as you shifted forward in his lap, to get as close as you tried to before he’d pushed you away. 

Travis’s breath caught in his throat as his hands tightened against you, but he met your fervor as though he hadn’t just been overwhelmed by it. 

If that’s even what happened. You thought, still hung up on his apology. I’m not even sure I know what–

You squeaked involuntarily as you felt him groan into your mouth at the new contact. Just as you scooted forward to press your sternum to his, you felt it. 

Ah. That must have been it.

A hardened bulge pressed into your thigh through the thick fabric of his jeans, and suddenly the apology made sense. In regards to Travis, anyway. In your eyes though, this really wasn’t something he should be apologizing for. 

You carried on as though you’d expected to feel it, your fingers grasping at the back of his head, pulling him closer into your heated contact, and even took it a step further, grinding your hips subtly against him to try and bring his growing erection a bit of relief. 

Travis gasped from under you, his hands reaching of their own accord to grasp at the small of your back, pressing you firmly to him, holding you close, and helping you to grind over his hardon. 

You obliged him, winding your hips in a motion that left your partner breathless as his mouth pressed to yours more firmly than he’d meant to. 

“S-sole.” He moaned against you, into you, and you felt yourself shudder at the sound. 

That. You thought. I need more of that. 

“Baby.” You tried to get his attention, tried to pull away to ask your question, to plead your case, but Travis’s lips followed suit, groaning into you, and you felt his hips roll to meet your contact, pressing his erection harder into your center with every needy buck against you. 

“Travis, baby.” You tried again, the need building up in your core with each hot breath spilled over you, each grind of him against you, with the way he opened his eyes and his pupils were twice the proper size. 

He didn’t speak, maybe he couldn’t, but he made a questioning noise as his eyes blinked at you curiously. 

“I wanna try something. I want more of you.” You practically growled out the last of it.

Even through the thickness of his jeans, you could feel the way your words made him throb. 

“O-okay.” He managed to breathe out. 

You smiled at him, licking your lips unwittingly as you pressed forward to give him a quick kiss. 

His hands followed you as you rose up, stepping off of his lap. He leaned forward, his expression uncertain as he tried to puzzle through your next move in his hazy state of mind. 

“Just… try and relax for me, alright?” You said as your fingers brushed the hem of your shirt. He nodded to you, despite his clear uncertainty, even as you pulled your top off over your head. 

Travis’s eyes widened, and he quickly looked away, down at his feet. 

Your eyebrows creased together at his action. 

“Hey.” You knelt down so you could be face-to-face with him, laying one hand gently on his knee. “I want you to see me like this, or I wouldn’t have taken it off. It’s not disrespectful, or wrong, okay?”

Travis nodded, and slowly, his eyes made their way to your face, grazing up over your bare chest quickly, as though he were still in need of your permission to look. 

He took a deep breath. 

“A-alright. ‘M sorry.” He whispered the last bit, and you felt your chest ache. 

“You don’t have to apologize. This is all new. We’re just figuring it out together.” You kissed him again, and he kissed right back without the hesitation that had always been present before. It may be slow going, it may be different and unprecedented, but progress was being made. Comfortability and trust were being established, and his earnestness, his honesty and good intentions… fuck, if that all didn’t make you want to be with him even more.  

Your hands pushed at his knees as you pulled your mouth from him, encouraging him to spread his legs so you could settle between them, and though he looked uncertain, he yielded to the pressure of your hands against him. 

“If you get uncomfortable at all, just tell me and I’ll stop, okay?” You looked up at him as your fingertips dragged further up his thighs. 

Travis nodded, his hands shaking as he placed them on either side of his legs on the couch. But he gave you a definite nod. 

“If not though, just try and relax. Just enjoy.” 

Your fingers met at the button of his jeans, popping it open slowly and taking your time dragging down the zipper. 

“I’m happy to be doing this. I want this, okay? So try and not be too concerned about me.” 

A bead of sweat trailed down the side of his face, but he nodded to you again; all he seemed to be capable of doing in his current state. 

You smiled as you pulled at his jeans, your hands moving to the hem of them to try and bring them further down his legs to pile on the floor. 

Travis swallowed hard, his eyes wide through the whole ordeal, and you swore you could feel his rapid, pounding heartbeat, even through the skin of his hips. 

His breath caught in his throat as you moved to pull his boxers down as well, his fingers clenching over the couch until they turned bone-white. 

“You okay, honey?” Your thumb stroked soothingly over his hip bone.

“Yeah. Yeah… I-I think I am. It’s just, well, just that no one– this is the first time, um… I’ve never done this before.” He finally admitted, the words leaving his tongue like he was spitting out poison. Poison he wished, with everything in him, that he could swallow down. 

You smiled at him, your thumb continuing its miniscule movements over his heated skin. 

“That’s okay.” You assured him, “It doesn’t change how much I want you.” 

He bit his lip thoughtfully, but his shoulders seemed to relax a bit at that. 

“But if you feel like you’re not ready, we can wait. I’m happy to do that too, if it’s what you want.”

“I…” He started, but a frown stole the words from him as his lip trembled from the wave of emotion you inspired. 

“I really like you, Sole.” His hand touched yours, still trembling, but certain in this movement he made towards you. “And… I think I– yeah, I, ah, I want to keep going.” 

Your hand grasped his and brought it to your lips briefly as you smiled up at him. 

“I really like you too, baby.” You told him, placing his hand back on the couch and returning yours to the hem of his underwear. You pulled the garment down slowly, helping to ease the tight hem over his erection as it sprang up to bump at his stomach. The darkened head of him was already glistening with pre-cum, and you found yourself licking your lips again at the thought of tasting him for the first time. At him feeling you for the first time. 

Despite the crimson absolutely overtaking his every feature, Travis lifted his hips and allowed you to pull down his jeans and underwear until they pooled around his ankles. Your hands smoothed over his thighs, spreading him a little further as you ducked your head towards him. Eyes glued to his, even as you could feel him trying not to break the contact, you leaned your face towards him, pressing one delicate kiss to the underside of his shaft. 

Travis’s body shook at the feel of another’s lips pressed to him. To that part of him.

Your lips. He reminded himself. 

He hated to admit it, but your lips had been the object of numerous fantasies of his, the thoughts always coming to his mind on those nights he felt frustrated enough to lay a hand over himself and stroke until he was biting back the sound of your name. It wasn’t something he was proud of, but it’s still something he did. 

But he didn’t want to think about that now. He didn’t have to. He wasn’t thinking about it now, he was living it, and you… You seemed to be loving it as much as he was. 

Travis breathed hard as you continued pressing kisses over his erection, fighting the urge to thrust his hips forward into the overwhelming contact. The softness of your lips was amplified against his sensitive skin, and when you swiped your tongue over the head of his cock, he nearly shouted at the feeling. It felt like lightning, like when he was shocked by a wire while making repairs to his radio, sending a white-hot surge up through his spine. 

“Mm,” Your lips rumbled against him as you hummed, “Let me hear you, baby.” 

You licked him again, this time starting at the base and dragging your tongue all the way back up to his tip, and he couldn’t help but groan at the heat of it, at the wetness, at the chill of the air surrounding you both, in comparison to your searing tongue. The feeling of it, the sight of you, shirtless and kneeling between his thighs, the touch of your hands as one rested on his thigh, while the other moved to guide his cock towards your open lips, he could’ve busted there and then. 

Travis closed his eyes tightly, his stomach flexing at the new contact you were introducing. Your mouth wrapped around the head of his cock, suckling slightly, before pushing down to ease the majority of his length inside your warm, inviting mouth. 

“Ahh.” He groaned, breathless. 

“O-oh. Sole, I-I..” His panting breaths interrupted him, and as you pulled your mouth back, sucking hard as you went until only the sensitive tip of him remained, he couldn’t seem to remember what he was going to say. 

You grinned at the sound of your name on his tongue, breathless and needy, music to your ears that was catchier than any song he played on his station. You knew that sound would be repeating in your head like a mantra for hours to come. 

You felt his cock pulse against your tongue as you attentively sucked at his head, slotting your tongue over his slit just in time to catch the bead of salty pre-cum that spilled from him. Travis groaned again, his hips bucking mutedly as he tried to hold back from shoving his length down your throat. 

Not that you would mind that. 

With the thought effectively inspired in your head, you descended on him again, taking his length as far into your mouth as you could, and staying there as you heard a moan drag from his lips. 

Travis was a mess under your attentions. Sweat dripped from him, his hands trembled, his voice was growing weak from use, every vein felt like it was on fire, and the pressure, oh, the pressure that was building up in his painfully hard cock was unbearable. 

“S-sole. I don’t– I’m gonna…” He grunted, and you felt his cock hit the back of your throat as his hips canted against you. “I’m not, ah, I don’t think I’m gonna last.” 

He managed to force the words out, even as you gagged from the pressure of his tip bumping the back of your throat. 

Honey, I could’ve told you that. You thought, all that could be achieved of a grin spreading across your full, parted lips. 

You hummed against him, hearing him stutter again at the vibrating stimulation, and pulled your head back, before plunging forward again. You bobbed your head over him quickly, determined to feel that throb within the confines of your mouth, to taste him against your tongue. Another gag was pulled from your throat as you pressed forward all the way again, settling as your tongue swiped over him and tears collected in your eyes. You pulled back only to take in air through your nostrils, your lips gripping hard at the skin of his shaft before you pushed forward again, until your nose pressed to his pelvic bone. 

Travis’s stomach shook as it clenched, and you felt another throb pulse against your tongue and throat. You pulled away one final time before pressing forward hard, swallowing through your tears around his length until he cried out, and you felt warmth spurt down your throat. 

You sucked at him greedily as you pulled back just enough to feel his cock throbbing on your tongue, coating the inside of your mouth with his cum. Not a blissful moment later, and you felt hands at your shoulders, pushing you back and off of his cock. Your eyes blinked open in surprise, noting the panic in your partner’s expression just before feeling a burst of cum land on your cheek. Unwittingly, you flinched at the feeling, and you heard Travis yelp as he watched it happen. 

He opened his mouth to speak, his hand grasped around his still-pulsing cock as he rode out the final moments of his release, pointing it down and spurting what was left onto the floor between your bodies. 

“S-sole, I–” 

You laughed at him, a grin breaking through your surprise as you wiped the glob of his cum from your face with your fingers. 

Travis was panting, mouth still open as if to speak as he looked at you with shock in his eyes. 

“A-are you– How? How can you be o-okay with this? I just–”

“I know,” You managed between feverish breaths, chest heaving with uncontained laughter. “I know, no, you should’ve just left–” You were cut off by another bout of giggles at the look Travis was giving you. 

He didn’t understand, he… He felt like you should be angry with him, but he wasn’t entirely sure why. 

“It’s fine, Travis. These things happen sometimes, it’s okay.” You put a hand on his thigh, stroking over it as you brought the fingers of your other hand, the one that still had a bit of his milky release on its fingers, to your mouth, cleaning them off slowly as you held your partner’s gaze. 

Travis’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. 

“Y-you just…” He shook his head. 

“What?” You asked, holding back another chuckle. “Baby, I just had your whole cock in my mouth. You think I’d be bothered by a bit of cum? That’d be like being mad about finding water in a canteen.” 

You clambered up to sit beside him on the couch as he worked on pulling his pants back up to his waist. 

“I guess, yeah. That makes sense. I just… I’m s–”

“Please don’t apologize to me again.” You rested your head against his shoulder as Travis leaned back on the couch, his anxiety finally expelled enough for him to relax against you. 

“Okay.” 

You smiled at that, basking in the contented quiet that surrounded you both as you wrapped your arms around his waist, and his head fell to lean on yours. 

“So… um,” You bit your lip, wondering if the question was a little presumptuous. You decided to ask it anyway. 

“How was your first time?” 

You felt his head shake against yours. 

“I… um, don’t know that I can describe it…” 

Your brows furrowed a bit at that. 

“But it… was incredible. So much better than I’ve ever, ah, imagined, and you… You were just amazing. Better than I’ve ever…” 

He cut himself off, heat rising to his ears at what he was just about to admit. 

“Hmm.” You hummed, arms tightening around him. “I’m glad, baby.” 

You paused. Is it a good idea to draw attention to something he’s clearly embarrassed about? You struggled with it for a moment, but thought about what you would want in his situation. 

He deserves to know. 

“And…” you continued, “You were better, too. Better than I ever imagined you would be.” 

Travis’s heart raced in his chest at your admission, but he warmed all the same. 

“I… I wanna do something for you. Next time. When you’re ready. If you want.” 

He felt your lips spread against his shoulder in a grin. 

“I’d like that.” You pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Next time for sure. For now though… I just want to be close to you.” 

Travis nodded at that, his heart full at the feel of you beside him, the admission that you wanted him, just as he wanted you. 

I really like them…  his mind said again, even as he felt himself begin to doze off against you.

[just-some-trans-nobody]

Nick Valentines x GN reader

Pure fluff for y'all, with a touch of angst at the end. I know theres like zero demand for fallout 4 fanfic but I made a poll idk how nany months ago asking if I should make some Nick Valentine fanfic and I got a couole of yes and exactly one follower from that poll. So this goes out to the small anount of people who said yes and that one follower I got from it, theres nore Nick fanfic to come I've just haven't gotten around to it yet but I promise I'll post some every so often.

Like always minors don't interact!

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He loves playing with your hair when he thinks your asleep. Sense he doesn't sleep he'll join you in bed when he needs a break from going over files and lay down with you so he can olay with your hair.

It started with him sitting on the edge of the bed looking at the wall as he thought about his most current case but when you started to stir in your sleep, having a bad dream, he laid down next to you and held you in his arms whispering sweet things to you until you calmed dow.

He found himself enjoying having you in his arms. Thus started a routine of him slipping into bed with you every so often to take a break.

Normally he would take a smoke break when you slept but he found himself craving a cuddle more than a smoke lately.

Soon every so often turned into every night of him crawlling into bed with you and getting up before you woke.

One night he had been loat in thought about something and hadn't noticed you waking up until he heared your tired voice ask him what he was doing.

"What? Oh sorry didn't mean to wake ya." He said pulling his hand away.

He was surprised when you asked him to keep playing with your hair. More than happy to oblige he started playing with it again.

It soothed you back to sleep in his arms snuggling into his chest as you slept soundly.

The next night when you got into bed you patted the spot next to you with an expectant look.

"You want me to join you or somethin?" Nick would ask looking to the bed then to you. Nodding you head you gavw him a big smile.

Who could say bo to that?

Nick was now "going to bed" with you every time you were. Really it was him laying in bed playing with your hair as he talked avout whatever case he had currently going on until you fell asleep.

He wouldn't admit it, at least not out loud but he adored this nightly routine the two of you had going on though he never hid the smile on his face every time he saw you getting ready for bed or how fast he was to crawl into bed with you to cuddle.

Nick always played it off cool as if it wasn't the favorite part of his day or anything.

If you asked he would probably say aomething like. "Just doing my job to keep those pesky nightmares away." Or "only making sure you don't stop breaming in your sleep. You humans are rather fragile after all."

Acts as if he isn't often the first one in bed waiting for you.

Before he atarted cuddlibg you every night he would work straight through the night till morning. He wouldn't even realized you had gone to bed till you walked oast him yawning telling him good morning.

Now though? He reminds you every night at 9pm sharp that you need to go to bed.

He'll play it off as your human and need to get a healthy amount of sleep as he actively take his coat and tie off to get comfortable.

If you buy him a pair of pajamas to wear he'll laugh avout it and say he doesn't need them.

He's wearing them the very next day.

If you gad gotten them before he started cuddling you every bight he would just give you a weird look for the thoughtless gift and put it in his empty dresser to collect dust or to be used by guests staying the night. He didn't sleep why would he need pajamas?

Now though? Might own three different pairs

You bet they match with your pajamas.

If anyone else sees him in his pajamas he'll puff out his chest as he puts his hands on his hips. "What? You never seen a synth in lounge wear before? Beat it, it's time for bed."

Nick takes bed time very seriously.

He's big spoon. It feels weird for him to be little spoon

Wont fight you if you want to try big spooning for once but he wasn't really into it

Nick much more prefers having you in his arms. It helps ground him and reminds him that you truly are here now with him and bot some memory from the past seeping into his present.

That and how can he play with your hair all night if he's not facing you silly?

He will lean in every so often and place a soft kiss on your forward as he whispers a soft "I love ya." As to bot wake you.

If he ever lost you he would lay in the bed alone holding onto your pajamas as he tried to think back on all those nights he spent laying in bed with you. He would stop after a few weeks as it hurt too much but after a few years when he had time to heal he would start doing it again so he could feel like you were there again. Nick didn't know how much he missed this, how much he missed you.

[vaulthistorian]

The Sole Survivor is quick to discover that when they try to do anything around Nick and Hancock in the same room they will be ignored.

Want to kill some Raiders? Take down a synth crime syndicate? That's great, but Hancock is trying to get the giant hunky man robot on his tail and Nick is trying to be professional while smitten with the cute rotting lad.

[commonwealthoccurences]

Cabin Fever

CW: Suspension of disbelief required.  Friends to lovers, Danse is sweet, etc.

It started with wistful reminiscing. 

The Brotherhood of Steel was on a sort of lockdown. The Institute was getting frustrated with their interference and began actively hunting down Brotherhood members. Elder Maxson wasn’t so much worried about this as he wanted the Institute to think he was; while they were on a lockdown to convince the Institute that they were retreating, scared, Paladins were moving in the shadows in an attempt to gather information and hopefully catch the Institute by surprise. Unfortunately, while Maxson said they provided valuable insight, Sole was not a Paladin.

They had been stuck in the Prydwen for two weeks, and they were past getting cabin fever.

Danse was kind enough to humor them in the few glimpses of free time he had between getting sent out into the Commonwealth. Their musings often turned to before the war. Not out of some stinging homesickness and nostalgia, but for the conveniences and commodities that the modern day should’ve had if the bombs hadn’t dropped. Sole sighed and leaned back. No one was even supposed to be on the decks except for the guards, but they had kindly turned a blind eye when they’d skulked out and sat against the railing for a breath of fresh air. It was minutes after Danse had finished debrief that he joined Sole on the deck and sat next to them, looking out over the Commonwealth. “You’re not supposed to be out here.” He said, though it was little more than a throwaway comment.

Sole smiled and rolled their eyes. They were biting at their nails, a bad habit they had kicked before the stress of the lockdown got to them. That drew a look of disapproval out of Danse, an eyebrow raised and the corners of his mouth downturned. Sole sighed and pulled their thumb away from their teeth and made a point to spit the bit of nail in their mouth between the bars of the railing, off into the abyss of empty air above the Wasteland. “Y’know what I miss?” Sole started.

“Air conditioning?”

“Good guess. It isn’t summer yet, though, you’ve got time before I start complaining about that again. No, I miss peanut butter and banana sandwiches.”

Danse grew confused and tilted his head at them. They had to resist the urge to brush their hand along his jaw in affection, so they looked away instead, squinting at the setting sun. “God, how do I even explain this?”

There was something still so odd about the idea that bananas simply didn’t exist anymore. Sole never really remembered just how much was missing until moments like this, where the reality of having to explain a fruit that had been so common slapped them in the face. “Hmm. I’m sure you’ve seen some examples on old advertisements. Bananas were… long. Yellow. A fruit. Seedless. I don’t know how much more information I can really give.”

“A fruit… were they like mutfruit?”

“God, no. Mutfruit are far too acidic. A little too sweet, too. Bananas were very neutral, soft, not very acidic at all. If you ate one you wouldn’t know they were slightly acidic, even.”

“Sounds good.” Danse offered in reply. 

Sole knew he was humoring them, but they lappreciated it anyway. They stuck their legs through the railing and swung their feet back and forth. There was really no reference for nuts in the Wasteland, nothing Sole could even think to compare peanuts to. They rested their forehead against the railing and looked over at Danse, who appeared to be lost in though. It was mere minutes, though, before a Brotherhood member stepped onto the deck and announced yet another field summons for Danse. 

They couldn’t resist sighing in disappointment as he stood, tucking his helmet under his arm. For a second, he was going to leave without another word. After a year of knowing Sole, he knew goodbyes were hard for them. Instead, he paused in the doorway to the Prydwen and rapped his knuckles against the doorway. “I’ll be back soon.”

He didn’t receive a response, but he wasn’t expecting one. When he returned to the deck minutes later for departure, Sole was gone.

It was weeks of sparse news and shaky reports of survival that kept him from returning "soon." Sole cursed him for saying that as they paced their quarters, their nails all bitten down to the beds and bleeding. Haylen had been kind enough to apply ointment one day without any questions, but their teeth were a force to be reckoned with, and their skin was raw by the next hour. 

Sole knew the risks when they joined the Brotherhood, when they got attached to Danse. They questioned if it was worth it; every breath felt like dry-drowning. Their pacing grew sluggish until they were folded up in a chair in the corner, knees tucked to their chest, startling themself every time they began nodding off. 

News came a week and a half after the scouting unit's last report– two weeks after they were supposed to return. The sudden rushing in the halls alerted Sole that something was happening, but it wasn't until they stepped out into the halls and saw familiar faces on stretchers and the tight-lipped Brotherhood doctors that realization dawned on them. 

Sole didn't have time to get nauseous and start shaking. They'd started moving before they even fully realized what was happening. Protocol called for a clearing of the halls and the orderly, single-file transportation of the wounded before the rest of the soldiers involved could unload from the deck. Sole wasn't sitting and waiting to find out if Danse was one of the wounded. Protocol be damned. 

They dodged medics and makeshift stretchers and shouting assistants like their life depended on it, paying no mind to the cries about their blatant disregard for what the Brotherhood had established. The wind was so fierce it bit at their skin when they emerged from the Prydwen, scanning a crowded deck so fast they felt dizzy. But there was a familiar set of armor amongst the mess of higher-ups and Scribes attempting to help. 

Sole got a running start before Danse even turned, nearly barreling him over when they caught him in a hug, one arm around his neck and the other around his back. "You're alive." They exhaled. 

"We're okay. Just, uh--" Danse shifted their weight off of his shoulder with a grimace that almost hid the red gracing his cheeks. "Dislocated," he explained. 

"God, I'm sorry." Sole took a few steps back, looking him over. 

Other than the way he was holding himself that obviously indicated something was wrong with his shoulder, he had a small gash above his eyebrow. Another scar to add to the list. He seemed okay, though, and he wasn't on one of the stretchers. It felt like the air had returned to their lungs and the sense to their head, if only slightly. "Let's go, I can fix your shoulder."

"I can see the medics after I debrief with Elder Maxson." 

Unfortunately for Danse, the look of furious determination on their face was enough to change his mind. Maxson knew how they were, anyway. He would guess where Danse had ended up. Sole tended to take it a bit personally when Maxson sent Danse on missions where things turned out poorly, especially if it was preventable. 

Humoring Sole as always, Danse fell into step behind them. He was always slightly off when he returned– he couldn't wash the rhythm of being in the field away for hours until he had settled into the Prydwen again. He was still stiff, his footsteps carefully practiced and even in pacing. 

"Ought to strangle Maxson the next time I see him." Sole mumbled under their breath, moving around their quarters. "Lie down."

Danse removed the last of his armor and obeyed readily, familiar with the routine of Sole setting dislocated limbs back into place. They smoothed their fingertips over his shoulder as a silent apology before handing him a rag to bite down on and positioning his arm. Patiently, they waited for his nod of consent before jerking his arm upward abruptly. The groan he let out was one of simultaneous distress and relief as he rolled onto his opposite side; anything to get away from anything touching the area. 

Sole sat quietly on the edge of the bed and rubbed their fingertips across their brow. There was a moment where all was silent except for their breathing; Danse's labored, but slowing, and Sole's steady with relief. "Let me see that cut on your forehead." They requested. 

Danse took a moment to get himself upright and sighed. The blood had already congealed, a scab forming, and they both knew this would be more for Sole's peace of mind. They pulled a first aid kit out of their nightstand and began tapping alcohol out onto a piece of gauze. "How bad was it?" They asked, unsure if they wanted the answer. 

"Certainly not the worst. They figured out what we were doing, somewhere along the way. Set up an ambush. McMullen got the worst of it since he was leading– my shoulder was already dislocated and we had to keep moving, but he'll be alright. Looks worst than it is since you weren't there."

"I should've been there."

Sole's inability to join the Paladins was a tense subject, one that they had furiously fought Maxson on, but had ultimately lost. "Probably would've been better off if you were. But you were safe here."

Sole shook their head slightly and placed a butterfly bandage over the cut. "It'll be a scar by next week."

"Thank you."

They nodded and sunk down onto the edge of their bed next to him. "Oh. Wait."

Danse began rummaging around in the knapsack he had tossed to the side. Carefully, he pulled something out and handed it to them, but wouldn't make eye contact. "What is it?" Sole asked. 

"I tried to– there weren't really adequate substitutes, but– I mean, we ended up in an Institute lab and they had been working on Old World things. Part of it was culinary, and– well, there weren't bananas, but there was banana flavoring, and I made a paste out of fern flowers, because you commented once that they tasted sort of nutty, and–"

Danse's rambling was quickly cut off by Sole's lips pressed against his own, their hand cupping his jaw as they leaned down from where they had gotten up out of a rush of excitement. After a moment, Sole pulled away, and Danse hesitated to open his eyes, his lips still parted slightly. He finally blinked at them. "Uh, yeah."

Sole rushed forward again, pushing him back flat onto the bed, climbing in his lap and kissing him more insistently. Their hand had caught him from hitting his shoulder against the hard, Brotherhood-issue mattress, and served as better leverage to pull him against them. When they finally pulled away again, they whispered a breathless, "Thank you." Against his mouth.

"Uh huh."

Sole sat back against his thighs, refusing to pull away from him, and unwrapped the sandwich. The bread was stale, but all Commonwealth bread felt that way, no matter how freshly baked it was. They took a bite and chewed. And chewed. And chewed. Danse stared up at them and took the time to gather his thoughts again. "Uh… so?" He asked.

They paused. "This tastes like shit, I won't even lie to you."

Sole tried to suppress a laugh, but it broke free. It was hard for Danse to feel disappointed– at least they were laughing. "Really?"

"Yeah. God, it's awful. And way stickier than I expected. I hate to tell you, but banana flavoring barely tastes like bananas." They laughed and leaned in for another kiss, lingering. 

Danse pulled away with a grimace. "Yeah, it's disgusting, and you taste like it now."

Sole chuckled with delight as they rolled away from him, the sandwich abandoned on their bedside table. "You should go debrief Maxson."

Danse sighed. "Yes, I should."

"Mhm." They walked him to the door, but held their hand against it to prevent him from opening it. "And while you're gone I'll brush my teeth, yeah?"

"Uh. Yeah. Sure. That's--" Danse nodded. 

Sole pulled away from the door and grasped his collar, drawing him into another kiss. "Good luck." they said, opening the door for him. Danse emerged from their quarters both bright red and grimacing from the taste. 

Fun fact, banana flavor (the commonly consumed variery) changed in the 50s so presumably the discrepancy that we experience between real bananas and banana flavoring wouldn't have happened to Sole, but again, suspension of disbelief. 

[rinkkuma]

୨୧ JJK BOYS V.S. PLUSHIES

ft. satoru gojo, yuta okkotsu, suguru geto, yuuji itadori, & megumi fushiguro

tags. gn!reader, all fluff ! what will they do when you have plushies on your bed… / author's note. these are all lowk the same just variants im sorry i #hadnomoreideas

SATORU fights every urge in his body to not punch, throw, or kick your plushies off your bed. seeing them makes him mad. the word plushies makes him want to scream, he can't even control himself. like, they get to sleep with you every night?! he hates strongly dislikes whenever you get a new plushie and show it off to him. once you leave your room, oh boy, he is punching all of your plushies one by one. and not even a light punch; he is punching as hard as he can. (in the face, mind you) he gets a little carried away, unknowingly being loud as hell, and is laughing a little. you are confused and a little worried, so you decide to go check on satoru.. and what a scene you walked into! all of your plushies are now on the ground, with the sole survivor being your favorite, still on the bed. satoru has your favorite plushie in a chokehold while he blabs about how it'll regret even being made and gives it another punch with his other hand. he hasn't noticed your presence yet due to the heat of the moment, but when he does, he awkwardly drops your plush and looks at you like nothing had happened. you burst out laughing while he mumbles how he was just “fluffing them up”.

YUTA doesn't mind them at all. after all, he also has plushies to help him sleep at night, and he adored you ten times more once he found out that you did too. one day, the two of you have a sleepover, and he brings all of his plushies over.. oh boy! the moment he showed up at your front door with bags and bags of plushies, your jaw dropped. (there was one even balanced on top of his head) yuta was honestly more of a plushie addict than you. when he laid out his plushies on your bed, it was filled. wherever you laid, you would squish a few plushies. despite all the plushies, the two of you end up cuddling each other anyway. (half of them had fallen off the bed by the end of the night)

SUGURU is genuinely not bothered by your plushies. they're inanimate objects; why would he be bothered? they're cute, and he can count on them to help you sleep at night when he's not present. he also likes to buy you more plushies because of the way your face lights up when you see them, he can't get enough. every morning, after (the majority) of your plushies have fallen off the bed, he tenderly helps you arrange them back in their place. suguru even begins to give each one of your plushies a name (if you didn't already name them) and a little backstory. his personal favorite is a pair of plushies that reminds him of you and him.

YUUJI has mixed feelings about your plushies. yes, they're cute, but sometimes, when he sees you cuddling one, he wants to snatch it and replace it with himself. over time, he notices how you're always holding or cuddling the same plushie. sure, everyone has their favorites, but you have other ones, so why not switch them up every once in awhile? he decides to ask you why one day, and when you respond that it simply reminded you of him, he nearly passes out. he was hyperventilating, screaming, and everything in between. from that day on, yuuji has loved your plushies and even bought you variants of whatever plushie you said that looked like him.

MEGUMI tries to convince himself that he does not care about your plushies. they're cute and all, but he can't help but feel jealous of them. sometimes. whenever he has to be out and about, you send pictures to him throughout the day, and sometimes your plushie is sneaked into the photo at your side, and he can't help but feel annoyed. that plushie could've been him, but gojo had unfortunately dragged him out that day. he mentally groans as he types out a response, trying to sound as nice as he can. at first typing, “get that stupid plush away from you rn” before hastily deleting it and just sending, “pretty”. after megumi gets dragged around by gojo (yuuji and nobara magically appeared too) for six hours, he can finally go home. when he walks in, you're on the couch watching whatever random movie you had turned on out of boredom, and that stupid plushie is still by your side. he walks a little closer, and you're literally hugging it. megumi sighs before walking up next to your seat and gently snatching the plushie out of your hold before sitting down next to you and pulling you into his arms.

[rosiesatombomb]

Nick Valentine/reader, Deacon/Reader

Gn reader, Sfw, famous sole survivor

Nick valentine and deacon come across a holotape of a famous prewar sole

Requests still open! For writing and now fallout doodles or sketches!!

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Nick Valentine

He knew he recognized you from somewhere but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Something about how you spoke—about your face, it all seemed way too familiar. Throughout your time traveling together he tried putting the pieces together, but he was still coming up blank. He wanted to ask you upfront but he didn’t know how to exactly to phrase it so he dropped it, until he found the holotape.

You two were walking around through the wasteland until you found an abandoned house, it was falling apart but it would do good as shelter for the night at least. Tossing their bag on the floor you made your way to the rather disgusting looking sleeping bag that laid on the floor, a huff escaped their lips as they sat down on the bag. Nick didn’t need to sleep but he liked having time to rest up, whether that be for a smoke break or to read a chapter or two of the latest book he was reading. Right now Nick was looking around the house, probably looking for supplies or something of that nature, your eyes scanned him as he went through the desk that sat near the door; he was looking over a holotape that sat on the desk.

His eyes narrowed as the scanned the tape, it looked fairly old and worn so…why would it be labeled with their name? He was silent for a moment contemplating the possibilities, hell maybe this was a family members house or…something. He hummed softly as he walked off from the desk, tossing them the holotape: “might wanna take a look at that.” He gestured to the tape that sat beside them now, trying to gauge their expression.

Once you explained the fact you were a famous singer prewar it clicked—he had seen your face on billboards, heard your voice on the radio. A small smile formed on his tattered lips as he looked down at you, “so that’s why I recognized you.” He chuckled softly as you held the tape, happy with the fact that the mystery was solved.

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Deacon

Deacon has always been interested in pre-war television, he always wanted to find an actual functioning television but that was basically impossible in the wasteland. He often spends most of his time going to old movie stores and going through the burnt magazines and tapes, he practically hordes them. His eyes widened as he found a magazine with a familiar face.

They walked through the streets eyeing the old stores that surround them, praying to find an old supermarket or something similar. “Hey boss—“ they turned their head to face their companion as he motioned to a building, in bold letters above the entrance it read, “movies”. They cocked an eyebrow before he spoke once more, “cmon you never know what prewar gadgets they got in those places.” he said with his typical smile as you two made your way in. It was dusty—as if no one had been in here since the bombs dropped. Deacon almost immediately went to the holotapes, sorting through them as his partner scavenged the room for any food, weapons or the typical junk. His eyes drifted aside to the magazine rack, raising an eyebrow as he picked up a magazine.

He chuckled for a moment as he held the magazine up, “you gotta see this boss” he said as he moved to their side. He held up the magazine while glancing back and fourth between the two, “it’s identical!” setting the magazine down he watched their expression change as they started to chuckle themselves, “Deacon that is me.”

His eyebrows shot up as he glanced back down at the magazine, noticing their name on the cover. He smiled once more as he walked back over to the holotapes, “wow, guess I need glasses.” He chuckled, sorting through them until he found one of their old movies and stuffing it into his pocket, “We’re definitely having a movie night.”

Deacon in all reality knew, their name was on the cover he wasn’t stupid. He just wanted to bring it up in someway, he’d seen their face on all sorts of posters in the commonwealth. Deacon had always been fascinated by acting, he practically does it himself…but doing it professionally is a whole different thing. He also really wants to watch your movies.

[itsokbbygrl]

An End, A Beginning

Summary: They're dead, they're all dead, and now you're stranded. You're the sole survivor after infection devastated your crew of fellow Fireflies out of Boston tasked with transporting a girl from Massachusetts to Colorado. When the hired smugglers responsible for getting her out of the QZ show up, you find yourself bargaining for your life. After learning one of them was bit somewhere between the edges of the QZ and the old City Hall where your crew was waiting to complete the transfer, and with only moments left to live, the infected smuggler convinces her partner to take you with them in her absence. After a long, hard-fought journey across the country, you're nearly at your ultimate destination and emotions are running high. How will a surprise confession affect the future of your group?

Pairing: Joel Miller x GN!Reader (literally zero physical description of reader, it's YOU)

Length: 1.4k words

Tags: DESCRIPTION OF ATTEMPTED SUICIDE, emotional constipation, father/daughter dynamics, found family dynamics, kissing, flowery language about a grumpy old man

a/n: hello I had severe brain rot after seeing this beautiful piece of fan art by @minacoleta and had to write about it. this was supposed to be a teeny little drabble but lmao here we are at 1.4k words and while writing it, I decided to perhaps PERHAPS!!!! don't hold me to it expand the story of reader as a third party to our favorite grumpy old man/sassy teenage girl duo. hashtag give ellie more adult supervision support. :) anyway without further ado! here is "An End, A Beginning." please comment/reblog to support your local authors ♡ thank you to my wonderful friends @5oh5 @morgaussy @tightjeansjavi and @javierpena-inatacvest for cheering me on. i luh u. credit to @firefly-graphics for creating the beautiful divider.

“It was me,” Joel blurted out. “I was the one who shot and missed.” Your feet cemented you to your spot and you could see Ellie’s breath hitch, her shoulders raised and fists clenched. 

“Ellie, can you check that tent over there and see if there’s any leftover bandages or pain meds?” you ask her in a vain attempt to shield her from enduring anymore unnecessary trauma. 

“But–” she starts and stops when she sees the minute shake of your head. She sighs and rolls her eyes, “Fine, I’ll just be over there, pretending I can’t hear the adults talking from 20 feet away” she points over her shoulder at the tattered remains of the first aid tent behind her and shuffles away. 

You shake your head fondly. Teenagers.  

You take a breath and turn around to face him and find him sitting on an old concrete barrier, looking down at his hands clasped in his lap, seemingly lost in thought. You make your way over to join him. 

“There’s no story,” he begins, “Sarah died, and I couldn’t see the point anymore. Simple as that.” He pauses for a moment, using the toe of his worn boot to kick at the broken bits of concrete at his feet. You remain silent, allowing him a breath to compose himself before he continues. “And I wasn’t scared either, I was ready,” he nods his head and furrows his brow as if convincing himself of this fact, “I couldn’t’ve been more ready.” He looks up then, meets your eyes, and you can see the earnestness there. It breaks your heart, understanding how hopeless he felt, the pain he must have been feeling, a pain you can imagine now that you’ve had him, had Ellie, in your life. 

He gives a gentle shake of his head and starts to give you more. “But when I–” he stops, words catching in his throat, eyes misting over for a moment, “When I–” he tries again, words continuing to fail him. You reach over and lay a soothing hand on his thigh, encouraging him to drain this wound he’s let fester for the last 20 years, letting him know you aren’t afraid of this, his darkness. You’ll meet him there, find him with nothing more than the persistent thump of his heart to guide you, let your fingertips trace down the familiar topography of his arm, soft hair and bumpy scars texturizing the otherwise warm, soft skin, until they meet his own, intertwining, no longer alone. 

His gesture of raising his fingers towards his skull in a mock recreation of a scene that was once all too real pulls you out of your reverie. “But when I went to pull the trigger, I–I flinched.” He gives half a chuckle and shakes his head, like he can’t believe it himself, like he might even feel lucky. It eases some of the tightness in your chest. “Still don’t know why,” he finishes. He takes a final moment to himself, reliving the memory, allowing himself to feel it. He comes back to the present and meets your eyes again. “Anyway, the reason I’m telling you all this is–” 

“I know why you’re telling us all this,” Ellie interjects from her position now, just behind your right shoulder. Clever girl, you think, her stealth reminding you of that scene from Jurassic Park, thinking she would love that film and grinning to yourself briefly at the bittersweet memory of something from before times, while simultaneously being both endeared by and frustrated with her tenacity to get what she wants. Joel gives her a glance before fixing his gaze back on the ground in front of him. 

“Yeah, I reckon you do,” Joel replies. The three of you allow the moment to breathe, running your thumb idly back and forth across Joel’s thigh where you’ve laid it. A comfort to the both of you. Never one to let things be, Ellie breaks the silence first. 

“So, time heals all wounds I guess,” she says flippantly, full of benighted teenage ego. 

Joel looks up at her then, eyes serious and full of soft determination, making sure to hold her gaze as he tells her, “It wasn’t time that did it.” 

Her eyes widen at his words, like she can’t quite believe them. You let the two of them have their moment. A father and daughter minting the truth of their relationship for the first time. You remove your hand from Joel’s thigh and subtly reach back, grabbing Ellie’s hand as it lays limp at her side, and give her a quick, gentle squeeze before releasing it, keeping slight in your movement, knowing all too well how fiercely independent she is and not wanting to embarrass her at the reminder that, despite her hardness, she’s still a child who needs the physical comfort of a caregiver. 

She takes a deep, shaky breath before she speaks, “Well, I’m glad that that didn’t work out.” They’re both valiantly damming tears that threaten to flow, sniffing and nodding at each other. 

Joel eventually responds, voice thick with feeling, “Yeah, me too.” He breaks their eye contact then, still nodding to himself for a moment before he reaches his hand to the bridge of his nose, pinching the remaining tears in his eyes away with his thumb and forefinger. 

Never one to show her soft underbelly for long, Ellie prompts your little crew to continue on your journey. “We should probably get going,” she says to you both. 

“Yup,” Joel agrees, getting back to business, shouldering his pack and standing from his position on the concrete block. Ellie, ever her father’s shadow, follows suit. You take one last second to absorb the remaining energy of the fizzling moment, taking a deep breath before standing and brushing your hands on your dirty, worn jeans. You sling your backpack over your shoulders and give a small jump to resituate its contents into a more comfortable position before catching up to your partner, watching him watch Ellie as she meanders a handful of steps ahead, the distance allowing you a moment of privacy. 

“Joel,” you start quietly, not stopping your trek, keeping your eyes steadily focused ahead, “about…all of that,” you wave your hand absently in the air in front of you, trying to remain nonchalant, approaching the great bear of him carefully as though being too honest will cause him to spook, to flee back into his deep, dark cave to protect his freshly opened wound. But you remember your earlier thought, you aren’t afraid of his darkness, you will find him anywhere, so you push on. “I am, too. Glad. I’m so, so glad that didn’t work out.” Your next thought flits through your mind and you smile at its ridiculously honest nature, letting the soft laughter that’s building within you to trill forth from where it was caged behind your teeth. The sound pulls his attention towards you. Fuck it, you decide, if this is the end of the world, the least I can do is give him is truth. 

“Thank god you flinched. For that girl, for me. We needed you here,” you shake your head fondly, turning your head to meet his eyes. “You had so much left to live for. I can’t imagine life without you now, you know that? And I’m terrified of what comes next, what happens after we find them. I can’t…I can’t leave her, Joel. I can’t leave you. You’re my family and I can’t–”

Your confession is cut off by the warm press of Joel’s plush, slightly chapped lips against your own. You close your eyes and breathe in through your nose, allowing your hand to find and rest on his firm bicep as you return his kisses in kind, giving as good as you’re getting, deciding if this is the only time you’ll experience him like this, soft and yielding, you’re going to savor it. 

He pulls back after a moment, silently holding your gaze. 

“Joel, I–” You begin. He shakes his head gently and you quiet. 

“I know,” he gives you then. And it’s there in his eyes. He knows. And you know, too. It doesn’t need to be said, not now. You both know and that’s enough. You both face forward and continue your hike, increasing your strides to catch up to Ellie, now a good distance ahead. 

Whatever comes next, you know now for sure, you’d both burn down the world to save this.

A/N: thank you so so so much for reading i love u. you can find more of my writing here, if you'd like, and as always comments and reblogs get you a kiss on the forehead and endless positive karma :)

[frickingnerd]

reuniting with rantaro during the 53th killing game

pairing: rantaro amami x gn!reader

tags: spoilers for V3, angst, major character death

rantaro and you were both contestants during the 52nd killing game and the sole survivors of it

during you time there, you became very close, having gone through so much together and always being there to support each other

both of you assumed that after surviving that killing game, you'd be able to return to your normal lives. but then the danganronpa team roped you in for one more season together…

when you finally saw each other again in the new school this season was set, it was hard having to act like you didn't know each other

you had to pretend like everything was new and scary, as if you hadn't been in a killing game before

though when the two of you finally got a chance to sneak away from the group and have a moment for yourself, you couldn't help but let your guard down around each other, even if it was just for a moment

both of you had survived a killing game before and you planned to survive this one as well, as a team!

you promised to look out for each other and solve the mystery of this killing game together, so that you could flee together

but neither of you would've expected rantaro to be the first to bite the dust, leaving you all by yourself in yet another killing game. one you might not survive either…

[vodika-vibes]

Congrats on the milestone! May I have Crosshair x gn! Reader in a western AU? Thanks, and love your work!

Ranger

Summary: Two years ago, your entire family was killed by a madman with a gun. As the only survivor, you did your best to survive on your own, in the house they were killed in, but it was just too hard. So you left to start your own life. Now, two years later, and mostly healed from your loss, a ghost from your past has come to haunt you.

Pairing: Past (and hints of future) Crosshair x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1417

Prompt: Western AU

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Thanks! So I wasn't sure where to go with this story for a while, but I think I like the way I wrote it this time. I hope you like it!

You’re content with your life.

You’d never claim that you were happy, happiness belongs to other people, but life is good enough. 

It takes you over an hour to reach your nearest neighbor. No one bothers you at your home, you have a greenhouse for fresh fruits, veggies, and herbs year-round, and you have animals that provide you with meat.

You make two trips a year to the town. No one knows you, or where you live. 

And this is how you prefer it.

Two years ago, you were the sole survivor of a bandit attack that saw your entire family, as well as your family’s livestock, killed. Slaughtered to the last kitten.

When you were in the hospital, recovering from the attack that left you near death, the Rangers swore to you that they would catch the people who killed your family. That they wouldn’t rest until they were behind bars or in the ground.

It never happened.

A year after the attacks, the Head of the Rangers came to your home, your home, your father’s home, and told you that they had no evidence and no trail to follow. And so, the case was closed.

You remained in your father’s home for three more months, until the ghost became too much to bear, and you sold it to the first person who showed any interest and moved hours away, to the mountains.

A cowardly action? Maybe. 

But you couldn’t live with the ghosts of your family any longer, and the fear of the killers returning to finish what they started almost paralyzed you.

You like to think that you’re doing well now.

The injuries that nearly killed you two years earlier healed nicely, though they ache when it gets cold. Your nightmares have reduced to one every couple of weeks. And you’re no longer afraid of leaving your house.

Ironic, really, since the isolation should have terrified you. 

It’s late autumn now, and you’re a busy person. You have so much that you need to do to prepare for the harsh winters of the mountain region that you chose to live in. Starting with hanging the guide ropes that will help you find your way from your home to the barn and to the greenhouse if the storms get too bad.

You’ve already done your shopping in town for the long winter, and you’ve already prepared the house for the cold winter weather, now you just have to do the outside stuff.

So focused on making sure that the ropes are hung at a good height, that won’t hurt you or any of your livestock, you don’t realize that you have an audience until your dogs start barking. 

At first, you think it might be a wild bird, the turkeys are bad this time of year, but as you straighten and head to the front of the house, your heart sinks when you see the man standing at the gate.

Even after two years, you still recognize him.

Crosshair, a Ranger. One of the men who investigated the murders of your family.

He looks the same as the last time you saw him. Still clad in the black duster and holding the black hat that he prefers. His hair is still silver, and it’s longer than you’ve ever seen it before. The top is pulled into a neat knot.

He looks very handsome…and you don’t want to see him.

Still, your mama raised you right, so you whistle sharply, “Silver! Gold!” You call, “Heel!”

The twin Great Pyranese dogs, turn to look at you, and then scamper away from the gate, returning to their patrol.

There’s a familiar squeaking noise, and you turn your attention back to Crosshair as he pushes the gate open and steps onto your property.

“Silver and Gold, huh?” Crosshair asks as he approaches you, a small smirk on his lips.

“They came with the names,” You counter as you fold your arms over your stomach, almost defensively. “What do you want?”

“Can’t I come and visit an old friend?”

“We might have been friends once upon a time, Crosshair. But I haven’t seen you since my parents died. You didn’t even come to their funerals.”

“I was busy.”

You’re quiet for a moment, “Right. Of course.”

“I…” He sighs, “I’m sorry. I should have been there.”

“Yes, you should have been.”

“May I come inside?” Crosshair asks, “I need to talk to you.”

“No, you can’t.” You reply immediately, “But you can follow me while I work.” You turn to head back to where you were working, and you hear him fall into step next to you.

“You built all of this?”

“No. I bought it from someone.” You reply as you make your way back to the barn and kneel to pick up the rope that you were working with.

“Well, it looks nice.”

“Thanks.”

The pair of you fall into a slightly uncomfortable silence as Crosshair watches you work.

Once upon a time, you and Crosshair were lovers. You were happy together, or so you thought. You thought that you and he were going to get married. At least, that was the impression that you got from him.

And then he broke up with you. He said that the pair of you were moving too fast and that he wanted to focus on his career for a little bit. He swore, up and down, that there wasn’t another person.

At the time, you weren’t sure you believed him.

Honestly, to this day, you’re not sure you believe him.

You only had a day to mourn your relationship with him before your family was attacked. You know he visited you when you were in the hospital, but that was the last time you saw him.

“You look good,” Crosshair says suddenly.

“Yeah, well. Not being in a hospital bed with my throat ripped open will do that.” You reply.

“No, I mean. Just in general.”

You sigh heavily and stand, “Why are you here, Crosshair?”

He’s quiet for a moment, “There was another attack.” He finally admits, “Only, this time, there were no survivors.”

You scoff, “Lucky them.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I?”

He falls silent for a moment and then he sighs, “I know that it has been years, but I need to ask you some questions.”

“Let me guess, this was Tech’s idea.” You counter as you focus your attention back on your work, “Sending you to come and question me.”

“No. I came on my own.” Crosshair replies, “Well, Tech mentioned you, but I’m the one who volunteered to come and see you.”

“Of course you did.”

“Is it so hard to believe that I would come up with this on my own?” He asks, offense written in his voice.

You sigh tiredly, “Crosshair, I have a lot to do. I can’t tell you any more about the people who tried to kill me than I already did. And I really don’t appreciate you coming here to make me relive the worst day of my life.”

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.” Crosshair counters sharply.

You recoil, as if he slapped you, and Crosshair closes his eyes, “I’m sorry, I…that came out wrong.”

“You know,” You say softly, “It took me a long time to get to the point where I can leave my house without being afraid that someone will come and finish the job. And it took me even longer to come to terms with the fact that I meant less to you than your job.”

“Wait—”

“I’d like you to leave, Crosshair. Now.”

“Will you let me explain?”

“I don’t owe you anything. And if I was a lesser person I might wonder where you were the day that my family was killed.”

He stares at you, slack-jawed, “You can’t possibly think that I had something to do with it?!”

“Of course not, but I’d still like you to leave.”

He doesn’t move for a moment, “I still love you, you know.”

“Sometimes, Crosshair, love isn’t enough.”

“It could be if you gave me a chance.”

“Please leave.”

“Alright,” He walks over to you and presses a light kiss to your temple, “I’m going to come back though. I messed up, two years ago. I’m not going to do it again.”

And then he’s gone, and you clench your hands into fists. 

Just because you still love him doesn’t mean you have to let him back into your life, right?

[harveywritings92]

Deacon: Hancock's been acting really strange with Sole. He seems... kinda into them.

Curie: What do you mean, "into them?"

Deacon: I mean into them.

Curie: Your statement is confusing. Has Hancock entered Sole in some fashion?

Deacon: Not yet.

[wassertoffatom]

Can i request some John Hancock hurt/comfort with 17 and/or 27 from the prompt thingy?

Missing (John Hancock x GN!Sole Survivor)

Main Master List || Prompt Master List #27 "You came back"

Author's Note: Thank you so much for the request! First time writing for Hancock so I hope I got him semi-right!!!!

Warnings: 18+, drug use, language, mourning the death of a child

==========

It’s been months since anyone has seen you. Even Deacon in all of his ways wasn’t able to track you down. After the Institute blew up, you had disappeared completely, not bothering to tell anyone where you were off to. Not even Hancock.

Hancock can’t deny how hurt he felt, still feels, at the fact that you would just leave everything, leave everyone, leave him. He could guess that you just needed some time alone after having to kill your son, but after three weeks it was clear that you weren’t coming back. No matter how hard Hancock wished you would. He honestly doesn’t know which of his thoughts are worse: you purposely avoiding him, or you potentially being dead somewhere and no one would know.

Still, the world turns and Hancock has no choice but to accept either possibility. The days are short and the nights are long as a persistent cloud looms over his head. No matter how many people he had invited into his bed for the chance of getting his mind off of you, his bed was always cold and empty in the morning.

“You look like crap, Hancock,” MacCready comments from John’s couch, cigarette in hand while Duncan plays on the floor with a cat, your cat, that Hancock took to looking after. “Are you getting any sleep?” The young merc asks as Hancock pops some grape mentats into his mouth like candy.

“Why do you gotta ask questions you already know the answer to?” Hancock bites back as Mac raises his hands in surrender. MacCready misses you too, but he’s not losing much sleep over it. He knows that if you wanted to be found, you would have been found already.

“I’m just saying, it’s been months and no one can find Sole. They clearly don't want to be found so maybe you should move on.”

Hancock fumes at his friend. He’s always known that MacCready could be on the more sharp edge of a knife but he honestly expected a little more sympathy from him considering what you did for his kid. “Is that how long it took you to get over Lucy?” MacCready pauses in his movement, words hanging densely in the air like stale smoke on a humid day. Hancock knows it’s a low blow and he instantly regrets it. Mac doesn’t say much in response, instead, he snuffs out his cigarette before hoisting Duncan into his arms and storming out the room, making it a point to slam the door shut. Hancock sighs, reaching for the jet in his pocket before deciding against using the drug. He’ll have to apologize to MacCready later for his poor choice of words. 

The day continues to get darker as Hancock stares at the ceiling. There is probably some mayoral duty to fulfill, but how can he govern a whole town when he can barely get out of bed? By the time he looks back out the window, he notices that the street lights are on and that it’s dark outside. “Shit,” mumbling to himself, he hoists his body off his bed and stumbles to his desk, reaching for the bottle, not noticing a body in his room.

“Hey Hancock,” your voice causes him to freeze down to his core. Did he take too many drugs again? Is he hallucinating you being there? Turning to the doorway, his black sunken eyes find your frame, leaning against the doorpost. 

He had imagined how he would react the minute you came back. He had imagined that he would immediately run to you, throw you into his arms and hold onto you so you would never disappear again. He had imagined that you and him wouldn’t leave the bed for at least three days. But he doesn’t do any of those things. It’s one thing to imagine what he would say, it’s another to actually say something. “You came back.”

He watches as you sigh, hanging your head and crossing your arms over your body, as if you’re trying to protect yourself. “I know I kinda just disappeared for a while, but I needed some space.”

“Kinda? A while?” He struggles to contain his discontent. “You had been missing for MONTHS. Literally 8 months. Where the fuck have you been?”

“I went to Far Harbor. Hid out in Longfellow’s cabin for a while before heading a little more up north. Found a small little campground and set up shop there.”

“So, you went and played camp while the rest of us wondered where you went? No one knew if you had died or not. I had people searching for you. Why? Why would you just disappear?” His voice is extra raspy as his fists clench and unclench at his sides. He would never hit you, but he definitely wants to hit something. 

Sitting down on his couch, you avoid his gaze as you pull your legs up to your chest. “No one expected anything from me. No one asked me to help a settlement defend itself from raiders. No one asked me to clear out a group of ghouls. No one asked me to go here, or to go there. I was able to do what I wanted to when I wanted to. I was able to mourn in peace without anyone criticizing me for mourning over such a horrible person. That horrible person was still my son.” You wipe a tear from your eye as Hancock takes a seat next to you, offering his handkerchief.

“Let me rephrase, why did you disappear without telling me?” He frowns as your head falls forward, hiding your face from him, but he doesn’t make a move to lift it up.

“I didn’t want you to see me like that. I don’t want to be the Savior of the Commonwealth anymore. I don’t want to be the General, I just want to be who I was before the war. (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Hancock can understand. He knows what it’s like for so many people to rely on you, and he often wishes that he could leave behind everything in favor of a more simple life. Tossing aside his former anger, he pulls you into his embrace as you break down against him. “I’m sorry John. I’m sorry for leaving.”

“Shhh, it’s okay. You’re okay,” he rubs your back, trying to soothe you. “I just want you to know, I would expect nothing from you, I would just expect you to be yourself.”

[williamkisser]

HELLO ^^ !!!! MAY I REQUEST GN READER TRYING TO FLIRT WITH KEVIN USING HIS LASSO (LIKE.. RANDOMLY STEALING IT THEN TRYING TO LASSO HIM AND FLIRT) BUT FAILING MISERABLY HEHE

♡— Flirting with the Cowboy

♡— thank you for requesting anon! I’m sorry it took some time but when i was in the middle of writing this fic i decided i don’t like it and started from scratch ☠️ anyways

♡— Warnings: g/n reader, unrealistic usage of the lasso, word count 1300

♡— Kevin Ayuso felt just like a fish in water during the manor’s games! The trill of rescuing others, dealing with the bad guys… surely, it was far from the real thing back in America, and to be sincere, it did feel faux, but a man’s got to appreciate what he has. And not like it matters either way - sooner or later he will be destined to forget his past anyway. This is the real world these days.

♡— The cowboy’s skill and experience from his past endeavors in the wild brought him much respect in the Manor. His moves were smooth enough to keep the hunters distracted through the entire match. Oh, how much the praise has boosted his ego up.

♡— Kevin was someone very trustable judging by his cleverness, but he wasn’t calling himself the cowboy for nothing. Never you’d see him without his signature lasso, pretty sure he even sleeps with it under hidden under the pillow. And during the games? A menace to hunters, a blessing to survivors.

♡— Additionally, when nothing serious or important was going on, he would to show off near everyone, specifically the prettiest manor residents. Can you blame him though? He’s such a flirt, and Oletus is filled with beautiful men and women… it’s just natural.

♡— Kevin also loves doing lasso tricks. The thing is, sometimes he can be too proud, embarrassing himself by some stupid, silly mistake. Quite shocking to see him still walking on both legs and owning a full set of teeth after he once shattered a few of Vera’s perfume bottles while trying to lasso her for jokes. But that’s nothing. Once he got so drunk he attempted to lasso Naib. No need to say what happened later.

♡— You once ended up on the team together with him for one of the matches. This fact solely made you feel slightly safer, but you quickly realized the hunter was feeling friendly today, seeing Antonio’s demonic juggling the balls Mike kept throwing at him. Kevin, seeing this, wanted to instantly join. He specifically told you to watch the old cowboy in action. He was lassoing the circus balls effortlessly, or at least it seemed so.

♡— In the middle of doing his silly trick, he turned his head back to you, giving you a wink and a smile that would make many people fall to their knees. Bad move. He lost the control over his lasso and accidentally threw one of the balls straight towards your forehead. It hurt like hell. If you were fully conscious, you would probably be angry at him and slap his cheek, later soothing it with a kiss to tease him back, but right now you were far too overwhelmed to bring yourself to any rational thought. Either way, he would get a scolding from Emily for giving her yet another unnecessary responsibility even after a friendly match. That Kevin…

♡— Needles to say, while his romantic efforts are appreciated (by some), you forgave him, but it should be best if he left the entertainment activities to the Hullaballoo performers. Kevin’s lasso fail however quickly led you to a great idea. What if you treat him with the taste of his own medicine? Lassoing him seemed like a big challenge, but it was worth it. You just couldn’t stop imagining him being tied up, feeling confused and shocked. The real issue though would be obtaining his lasso. He always has it near him.

♡— Well, the best idea is to probably await yet another friendly match. While Miss Nightingale never looked too pleased when finding out that the game didn’t proceed properly, but those matches definitely lifted up everyone, so she proceeds to not bat an eye too often.

♡— Another key issue is that you must be paired with Kevin if you actually want it to actually happen, which would it harder for you to focus during serious matches, knowing you’re in a team with the handsome cowboy you’ve been having the hots for lately. And Kevin quickly picked up on what’s going on after a while. You two certainly kept matching together more often than you usually should.

♡— That was the end of you, as he started to tease you more often. He’d run to you from the opposite corner of the map to decode the cipher machine together with you (which you’ve already decoded up to 80% by yourself, by the way). The shit eating grin he’d have while carrying you to safety from the hunter. Oh Lord.

♡— So when you two finally find yourself in a friendly match, you’re already overly ecstatic. Well, friendly… sort of. At least it began like this. The Joker must have felt very moody or mischievous today, as after playing with other survivors, he began terror shocking them, taking advantage of them letting their guards down. Thankfully, you were that one person doing the job and decoding all of the ciphers, meaning you were safe for now. Out of all chaired ones, ironically, Kevin was the closest one to you. You knew that if you decided to save someone else, you wouldn’t save them on time anyway. Well, here goes nothing…

♡— While you sneakily ran towards the cowboy’s chair location, you instantly spotted his lasso, laying abandoned in the tall grass, which gave you an amazing idea. Meanwhile, Kevin had no idea that you were near, assuming you ran after the dungeon. That’s when he felt something tightly wrapping around him. His own lasso. You lassoed Kevin near you and delivered the cheesiest pick-up line known to mankind after rescuing him. He’s never going to let it go now.

♡— When you two went through the exit gate, Kevin stopped you by holding your hand and smirked widely, saying that if you’re so eager to learn his ways, he may give you private lasso using classes. It’s hard to tell if it was you or him who felt more embarrassed that day.

♡— The next day, you’d hear a knock on your door. After opening them, you saw no one, however after looking down, you noticed nothing else but Kevin’s lasso. Looks like he has some spare ones after all. This would lead to a small teasing war between you, much to everyone else’s horror. He would lasso you in the most unexpected time, making you yelp, and you’d lasso the thing he is holding out of his hands.

♡— This would go on for a little over a week, until one day you felt too confident over the control of your new lasso. It was already dark - only the moon and the wax candles were bringing light into the big dining room. Kevin was talking with Jose, with whom he got along well with. When the officer left, you decided it’s the right time to take the cowboy by surprise. You prepared the lasso, aiming at him precisely, but suddenly at the same time while you striked, something loud could be heard from the corridor. Later on, it turned out someone just accidentally shattered their plate on the floor, but currently, you got so shocked you accidentally lassoed yourself.

♡— Funny thing is, Kevin knew you were there, he just acted like he didn’t, therefore he wasn’t startled at all. So when you finally revealed yourself unwillingly, he showed you that smile you hated and loved so much at the same time and kneeled next to you, almost paralyzed from the embarrassment you felt.

♡— „Well, does it mean the good ol’ cowboy won our little lasso war, honey?”

♡— That’s how you shortly after found yourself in his arms, except he decided to take revenge for your attack on him, jokingly wrapping the lasso around your waist along your hands, meaning you could only ineffectively kick your legs at his stomach. After that, he didn’t utter a single word, carrying you all tied up to his room.

[mychoombatheroomba]

Blood Upon the Snow

Disavowed (Krauser x GN! Reader/Krauser x Leon) - Chapter 4

1998

Krauser finds what remains of the base in Finland . . . and its sole survivor.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

CW: gore, description of corpses

January 30th, 1998

08:15

Dorne Base, Finland

He could see the smoke before anything else, a plume of black against a waking sky. 

The storm had left the world that stretched out beneath the chopper a pristine, untouched white, the snow contrasting harshly against the smoke and the blood red of the sunrise. Against the fires that still burned, albeit low.  

“Holy shit . . .” one of his men breathed, voicing aloud what Krauser was thinking himself. When the base had gone silent, they’d assumed it was the storm interfering with communications equipment. Then that storm had cleared . . . and still no word had come. No all-clear. So, the brief reprieve that Krauser and his men had been on had been cut short. They were the closest to check in on the base, and the most qualified if, somehow, something had gone wrong. 

And when Krauser heard where he was going, he’d known immediately that something had indeed gone wrong. 

Dorne Base in Finland. The very same he’d had on his mind a few times in the last month, all thanks to a proud and paternal Captain promising him a tour, should Krauser ever make his way that far north. A Captain who would have sent the all-clear, if he was able. 

A Captain who, Krauser realized as the chopper landed, was likely burning with the base before them. 

He set out running as soon as he was able, boots crunching against the fresh snow. His men were close behind him, each of them going with the same orders: search for hostiles and check for survivors. More help was on the way, Krauser had called it in as soon as the base came into view, but he knew that if anyone was somehow alive in there, he and his men were their best chance of survival. 

It didn’t take long before that pit in his gut grew wide enough it felt like he might collapse in on himself.

A pile of bodies greeted them as soon as they entered the walls, just under a dozen men, their corpses charred beyond recognition. The smell of ash and burning flesh lingered in the biting winter air, and as Krauser stared down at the remains, he thought only of the smiling faces he’d seen just over a month ago. One familiar and creased with age, the other new and proud. A face that Krauser had thought of more than a few times since you’d waltzed up to him at that bar. 

Was yours among the burnt bodies? Or Reynolds? 

He tried not to let those thoughts in, but it became more and more difficult as the collapsed buildings of Dorne base were searched. 

Shrapnel, debris, portions of buildings that had collapsed, others that had been blown outwards . . . no simple fire could have done this. No natural blaze would have resulted in bodies piled in the yard though, either. This was an attack, the evidence of it written in the burn marks, in the bullet casings he and his men found. Krauser had his weapon in hand, ready if he found the hostiles responsible for this, moving cautiously in case there were any more explosives left behind. Clearing an area was something he’d done dozens of times. Preparing for a fight was almost as easy as breathing to him, now. 

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of melted, misshapen flesh they found, peeking out of the rubble of a collapsed building. 

It . . . it was human. Or had been, once. Even with the way the fire had been at it, though, Krauser could make out the two legs and two arms, the round skull . . . but his mind could scarcely make sense of the huge, knife-like claws at the ends of those arms. Nor the sharp teeth that sprouted from its mouth. 

“What in the fucking ‘Thing’ is that?” Krauser’s Lieutenant had never sounded so utterly terrified, beholding the corpse like it could reanimate and slice them to ribbons in an instant. 

Krauser couldn’t blame him. 

He’d seen horrors, or, at least, he thought he had. He’d seen death. Not like this. Never like this. Because things like this weren’t supposed to happen. This was the stuff of those stupid horror movies, where men turned into monsters but were always stopped in the end. The heroes won most of the time in those movies, didn’t they? 

Krauser didn’t think anyone won here, though.  

“Leave it,” he said, even if he could see the dog tags wrapped around the thing’s throat. A soldier, once. Now . . . Krauser didn’t even want to guess. Whatever it was, he wouldn’t have his men touching it. Not that, nor any of the other twisted corpses they found. 

With each one, the Major had to ask himself the same question over and over - one that he knew may never be answered: what the hell happened here?

Corpse after corpse they passed, and the Major gave in to that dread choking him. No sense fighting that losing battle. 

No sense in hoping, when at last the parts of the base they could get to were cleared, and Krauser stepped out the opposite entrance from the one they’d come in, beholding the red on white of the sun . . . and the dark shapes lying in the snow in the distance. 

Krauser made his way forward, his men at his heels. “Two more bodies outside the perimeter,” he reported over his radio, hearing chatter from the men still inside. 

He’d seen comrades die over the years. It was a part of the job. He’d made his peace with it as much as any man could. 

Still, he felt something twist in him as he beheld the scene in front of him. 

What was left of Simon Reynolds’ face stared up at him, his remaining eye wide and white as the snow he rested on. Once handsome features were torn asunder, blown apart by bullets, the final blows to a body that seemed to have already taken so much punishment. Krauser glimpsed red staining Reynolds’ fatigues on his stomach - another gunshot wound - and a chunk torn free of his arm. Like something had bitten him. 

Reynolds, who had been there after Krauser had endured a blanket beating in the form of initiation on his first day of training. Who had patted him on the shoulder and told him he’d dealt with the same shit, that Jack couldn’t let it get to him. Reynolds, who had spoken so damn fondly of the men under his command. Who had shared a drink with Krauser not so long ago. His wife wouldn’t be able to see his face one final time, because there was so little of it that remained. Gone without a goodbye. Dead without the chance of aid. 

It ate Krauser alive, knowing that there was likely no scenario in which he could have helped. No way to save the man who’d been a guiding hand for him, once. 

The second body lying in the snow, several feet away, was just salt to his wound. 

“Not like I won’t be twenty-one in a few months anyway. I could die between now and then, you know.” 

Krauser had laughed at your words, back at the ball, writing them off as a smartass trying to get a drink. Now, they gave him nothing but a bitter taste in his mouth. 

Your eyes were glazed over, staring up at the dawning morning. Some other idiot might have thought you looked peaceful, but Krauser knew better. There was nothing peaceful about the way your belly was torn open, red soaking your uniform and pooling beneath you. Nothing beautifully tranquil about the pistol clutched in your gloved hand. There was no peace in whatever you had suffered, that much was clear, and Krauser felt his throat constrict at the sight of you. 

He moved closer, staring at the eyes that had been so bright-

Eyes that, he swore to God, blinked weakly against the morning light.

Krauser was on his knees in the snow in an instant, ripping his own glove off and pressing fingers against the side of your throat. 

When he felt the weak beat of your heart, his own nearly stopped. 

Alive. 

“This one’s still alive!” He called to everyone and no one, but he didn’t wait another second. Not when he wasn’t sure how many you had left. “Get a med kit ready! Now!” 

He stayed by your side as the medic stitched you up, grimacing as he saw the wounds on your stomach - he knew stab wounds and burns well enough from a lifetime of seeing both to recognize them in you. A botched cauterization job, it looked like. 

You should be dead, by all rights, but you held on. 

He hoped the hand he rested against your shoulder gave you further reason to fight on. 

When the stitching was done, he didn’t let himself breathe easy because even if the wounds were closed properly, you weren’t safe. 

You whimpered weakly when he lifted you into his arms, making him all the more careful of your wounds. “You stay awake,” he ordered, hoping his voice reached you in your delirium as he carried you through the snow, cutting as quick a path back to the chopper as he could. 

He almost smiled down at you as you muttered something he couldn’t even catch. Whatever it was, it was a sign of your life. Of your fight. That was enough. 

“That’s it, Sergeant,” he nodded, pressing on. “You make it through this, I’ll buy you all the bourbon you want.” 

You hissed and cried out, your head lolling against Krauser’s shoulder and then falling backwards, eyes blinking heavily. “S-s-” you struggled, but the word that finally formed just deepened the ache in Krauser’s chest. “Simon . . .” you called feebly to a dead man. One Krauser wouldn’t let you join. 

“Just hang on, soldier. That’s an order.” 

He was nearly there. Nearly at the chopper. One step closer to saving your life when- 

“Leave me.” The words were slurred, but Krauser could still make them out. A plea, desperate and empty. He wasn’t even sure you knew what you were saying, but it chipped away at him all the same. 

“You’re a fighter,” he said, shaking his head, knowing it in his heart because you had to be to have survived this hell. You had to have a goddamn heart of fire. He wasn’t going to leave you. He wasn’t going to let you die, because someone had to make it out of this, and based on what Krauser had seen all those weeks ago, Reynolds would have wanted it to be you. That was what he was sure of as he neared the helicopter at last, giving you one final order. One he willed to sink into your very bones. 

“So fight.” 

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

A/N: Yes the title is a Hozier song, and yes there was a reference to "The Thing" 1982 in there, what of it?

You guys got to be happy and unbothered for exactly 1 chapter - but hey, Krauser will get no better

[wallflowerimagines]

Egg's Masterlist

🌺🪷For all my favorite Wallflowers🌸🌼

Last Updated: 4/21/2023

Resident Evil 8: Village

All Four Lords

The Lords React to You Using Slang

The Lords With An Emotionally Distant Partner

The Lords with a Bloodborne Hunter Partner

Virgin Reader wants the Lords as their First

The Lords With a Firebending Partner

The Lords With a Shy but (Hardcore) Protective Partner

Their Partner is Eva Reincarnated

The Lords with a Playfully Affectionate Partner

Their Partner Gets a New Tattoo

Their Partner Dies(Angst)

The Lords + Dimitrescu Daughters React to You going to College

With a Bony, but Cuddly Partner

The Lords With a HANDSY Partner

Their Partner Can See Ghosts

Their Partner Has Chronic Pain

The Lords x Buff! Reader

Their Partner Enjoys Emo and Pop-Punk Music

Their Partner Plays Lots of Instruments

The Lords Milder Kink Headcannons (Suggestive, N*S*F*Wy)

Reader has Horrible Period Cramps

The Lords adopt a Child Reader with Mercury Wings

Reader steals and Wears Their Clothes

Reader Has Gutter Brain and Lives In Horny Jail (Suggestive)

Their Partner Dresses up Fancy

Reader Rejects The Lords (Angst)

Alcina Dimitrescu

Lady Dimitrescu Crush Headcannons

Alcina x Passive! Reader

Lady Dimitrescu's N*S*F*W Preferences(Smut, GN)

Alcina x Dense! Reader

Her Partner Has a Warehouse Job

Alcina x Autistic! Reader

...Their Partner is Eva Reincarnated, Goofy Edition (Suggestive)

Donna Beneviento

Donna Beneviento Crush Headcannons

First Kiss Headcannons

Her Partner Has a Warehouse Job

Touchstarved! Donna x Affectionate! Reader

Donna x VERY SHY! Reader

Donna x Mute! Reader

Relationship Brainrot, Donna Edition

Salvatore Moreau

Salvatore Moreau Crush Headcannons

Moreau x Cuddly! Reader

Moreau x Dense! Reader

Reader Rejects the Other Lords in Favor of Salvatore

Affection Brainrot, Moreau Edition

TouchStarved! Moreau x Affectionate! Reader

Karl Heisenberg

Karl Heisenberg Crush Headcannons

...Their Partner is Eva Reincarnated, Goofy Edition (Suggestive)

The Sales Pitch (Smut, Fem! Reader)

Friends to Lovers Is Cannon Brainrot, Sorry not Sorry

His Partner Attempts Suicide (TW: Suicide)

The Duke

With a HANDSY Partner

Ethan Winters

The Crackship (Ethan x Miranda)

With a Bony, Cuddly Partner

Dimitrescu Daughters

Bela Dimitrescu Crush Headcannons

Cassandra Dimitrescu Crush Headcannons

Daniela Dimitrescu Crush Headcannons

Bela x Magic! Reader

The Daughters and Lady Dimitrescu Are introduced to Sparkling Blood

Fallout 4

Travis Miles Crush Headcannons

Travis Miles Relationship Headcannons

Travis Miles x DJ! Sole Survivor

Vault-Tech Rep Crush Headcannons

Kent Connolly Confession Headcannons

Misc. Imagines

To Be Updated!

[whatanightmaregrinch]

Hancock x GN!Sole Survivor- far off victories

[omg is this actual words on a page?? Hello babies I’m back!!!]

“Hancock?”

“Hmmm…?” Your hands tightened their grip around his torso, and you pressed your face into his back. His soft raspy chuckle at your insistence had him gently pat your soft hand with his ruined one, and then dragged his fingers across your knuckles lightly. “I love you.” Your voice mumbled softly into his coat, and his heart (or whatever ruinous creature that had become it) twinged. It was easy to be gentle to him in moments like this, but he couldn’t stop his thoughts from wandering from the endearment; his anxiety swirled as he considered the time limit to your love. He was silent a moment too long, and your hands gripped his shirt, hands almost shaking in the moonlight as you took the rejection. You remained steadfast in your hope, that perhaps in a few months, a few years; he might come around to your type of love. From his slouched position, he took an extra long drag of his cigarette, before stabbing it out on the floor next to him. His shaky exhale hit your ears, and your grip tightened on him. The silence between you both was cavernous- wide and unyielding; until the faintest tremors from his rib cage indicated he was crying. Your lips pressed into a thin line, you frowned, and your grasp went from his shirt to the his hand that had long since disappeared from yours. He clenched onto your palm, and neither of you said a word as you coaxed him through it, his exhausted gasps and horrid sniffs as his whole body was rigid. Minutes ticked away until it turned into an hour; and just when you thought you’d done irreparable damage, he started to come down from it all. His crying got louder; but it signified he could breathe enough to let it out now, slowly riding the wave down as the adrenaline surged in him. He turned suddenly in your arms to face you, biting back a wince as his ribs nearly crushed your elbow as he rolled, and he thrust his face into your neck, finding purchase on you in whatever way he could. In this position, you wrapped your arms around him properly, trying to protect him from the misery he was entrenched in.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, hands right on him as he shook his head into your neck; refusing the apology but unable to explain himself just yet. He couldn’t accept your apology; not after you’d been so open and honest with him. He couldn’t help but seek your comfort, your honesty, your warmth. Travelling with you, fighting by your side- it was something he wanted desperately. He wanted you desperately. But the lack of love he’d received up until this point was so low that he felt like an imposter accepting it. He did not deserve it. He could not explain this to you, but he felt like on some level, you had already understood it would be like this. When he had explained to you how he felt in the beginning, and you’d surprised him and told him you wanted something more with him, he’d nearly rejected you. How could you love a face like this? These hands, covered in the blood of people I’d betrayed. His thoughts drifted to you; and how you’d sacrificed so much. Your partner, your family- everything by being thrust forward in time to an almost unrecognisable, hellish sham of what your life used to be. And yet, he could not bring himself to be brave with his feelings the way you could, the way you faced each day with a tired smile, ready to make something anew with everything you had been handed. Perhaps one day, he’d be able to return your mumbled praises, tell you how he saw the stars in your eyes; how each hit of jet he took would bring him nowhere close to the nirvana he experienced with you. One day, but not now.