#male sole survivor fic

[gococogo]

A Damsel in Distress - Paladin Danse x Nate / Male Sole Survivor

Synopsis: A distress signal comes over the Cambridge Police Station radio that has Danse racing out of there quicker than he can think.

Word Count: 3.1K

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Angst. Gore.

Notes: This is me dipping my toes into the fallout 4 universe. so give me some leeway, i wanted to challenge myself by writing this. enjoy :)

The crackling of the radio doesn’t grab the attention of the Paladin at first. His mind too focused on repairing a loose hinge in the right elbow of his power armour that had been bugging him for days. Whenever he’s out of the hulking metal, he always feels vulnerable. Not small per say or weak. A Paladin must know that they can handle themselves in and out of the armour. Yet he’s so use to wearing it almost twenty four hours a day that it’s become second nature within it.

The radio crackles again, louder this time with a voice mixed in underneath all the intense white noise. Paladin Danse stops short, wrench still in hand and looks over to the orange box. It’s not often that distress signals have been picked up. The station that they use is only for people of the Brotherhood or familiar with them.

Scribe Haylen has already wondered over to the radio, adjusting the dial. The whole police station falls into silence as Haylen tries her best to tune into the signal. Even Rhys is watching from afar at the table. But soon he moves back to whatever he was doing, head bowed between his shoulders.  

“…. -bridge Police Station,” finally a voice is clear over the radio and Danse can’t help the feeling of his stomach sinking low into his stomach. “I need assistance. Surrounded by raiders! I’m holding myself in the- shit where am I?” A few passing moments of ragged breathing, filled with phlegm and other liquids in the throat, “Some Regional Office and I’ve-” a groan admits itself through the radio followed by a shaky exhale. “Got myself pretty shot up this time.”

Danse may have only met the man a month ago, but he knows Nate’s voice when he hears it. Right elbow joint be damned, he’s jumping into his power armour before he knows it. Haylen is already on her feet and packing her things up.

A large metal hand on her back is quick to stop her in her tracks. “I need you and Rhys to stay here while I go out and retrieve the Initiate,” Danse speaks firmly.

“I think that’s unwise, Paladin,” Haylen speaks up, standing to attention.

But Danse doesn’t budge no matter how dedicated she is to be leaving with him. “I don’t want this base of operations to be compromised or unattended in case of an attack. I intrust Knight Rhys to overlook this base until my return. There will be no further argument.”

Haylen’s shoulders faulter a little. “What about medical supplies?”

“Where is the location of his whereabouts?” Danse asks, getting to the point quickly.

Scribe Haylen shrugs her pack off her shoulders and grabs out a device from within. She holds it out to the Paladin with some urgency.

“I sent him to BADTFL Regional Office to retrieve the haptic drive. Trek east and you’ll run into it within the hour,” Haylen says. “This-“ she flicks a switch on the device and a slow beep admits from it, “-will lead you right to the signal he’s emitting.”

The Paladin takes the device and looks it over with a bleak expression. It’s almost small within the hands of the T-60, hard to hold onto. But he grasps onto it, unwilling to let go all the same.

“I value your help greatly, Scribe,” Danse thanks in his own way. “I will retrieve him and will be back in just over two hours. If I am not here with Nate when the third hour rolls over, then I give you permission to act.”

And with that, he flips his helmet on and loads his cell rifle before travelling east. He knows going into this alone is stupid and selfish. But he can’t allow his small patrol to be dispersed because of his own need to make sure that Nate is alright. This thing that has decided to make itself at home inside of the Paladin’s chest that makes him feel unable to breathe.

With each block he passes, he can’t help but let his worry grow deeper and deeper. The tightness in his chest becoming a little too much for his own liking. He shouldn’t be feeling this way. No. He shouldn’t be letting himself feel this way. He can’t let himself get close to anyone again. This is purely for the Brotherhood. And nothing more.

But every time the pulse of the signal becomes stronger, becomes quicker he can’t help but let himself feel. The steady beep of the device almost ricochets inside of the Paladin’s brain. He can feel a headache coming along.

He is also well aware that it was Haylen’s needs that has gotten Nate in this predicament, but it is no fault of hers. Nate has shown himself capable many times before. Completing mission after mission for both Haylen and Rhys and reporting back each time with success. A few scrapes and bruises is all that he has been wounded with but nothing this serious. He hasn’t doubted Nate for a moment, seeing on more than one occasion that he can handle himself if not more. He’s been by his side with the synths and Danse saw a soldier, not a scared man that will hide and cower. Not like any of other’s he’s come across within the Commonwealth. Nate’s different.

-

Arriving at the Regional Office, it’s a little too silent for the Paladin’s liking. The distress signal beeps at a quickened pace in one hand as Danse holds his rifle in the other. There’s no one out the front and with no time to delay, he barges through the front door with his gun locked and loaded. Scoping the front entrance, he’s met with a front desk and rummage. No life can be seen.

Walking further in, the only sound being his heavy footsteps and the quickening pulse of the distress signal, he becomes unnerved. He keeps his gun out at the ready, holding it a little awkwardly but he can’t complain at this given moment. His eyes dart back and forth, waiting for something to happen.

Three raiders are dead on the floor in the next room. All pocketed with bullet wounds that seep red into the old wooden floorboards. A switchblade sticks out of the neck of one, his face contorted into permanent horror that has Danse staring a little too long. He continues forward, noting of the busted turret that dangles from its wires on the ceiling.

A muffled argument strikes the Paladin’s attention and, he slows his movements the best he can inside his T-60. He looks into an office like room where three raiders are. He switches the distress tracker off before they become alerted of his presence.

“It’s us three against him!” The only woman shouts harshly into the face of the other two.

The scrawnier raider of the bunch slides down the table with a shaky groan. He holds his side, his hand coated with fresh blood. His grimy face is pale and Danse can tell from here that he isn’t going to last much longer.

“Two against one,” the injured man groans out.

The woman scowls deeply, her yellow teeth like dog fangs that bare something dangerous. She pulls a pipe pistol from her belt and shoots the injured man in the temple without a thought. His body convulses before falling to the side and becoming horrifyingly still. She then turns to the remaining raider, waving the gun in his face.

“Are you with me to kill that son of a bitch?” She snarls.

He pushes the gun from his face forcefully, almost tearing it from her hand. “Of course!”

Why Raiders do what they do, Danse will never truly understand. Was that man not a part of her crew? Not even a second thought to end his life instead of to try and save it. Less mouths to feed. He’s heard that come from a Raider’s mouth before and it makes Danse sick. Never in his life in the Brotherhood has he seen someone put someone down like a dog so inhumanly.

The Paladin places the device in the dip of his chest plating and takes his rifle’s safety off. As soon as the woman turns her back to head into the other room, Danse charges. He crosses the room before the two raiders are even able to turn around at the charging bull coming their way. Something blinds him as he acts, something he hasn’t felt in quite some time.

Danse shoulder barges the man, throwing him across the room into a filing cabinet. The woman stumbles backwards into the wall, eyes as wide as saucepans. She pulls her pistol but Danse is quicker. It takes five rounds for her to fall. She slides down against the wall, her yellow teeth bared as if they were ready to bite.  

The last raider struggles to rise to his feet. He tries to crawl away, his breath ragged and shallow. Paladin Danse steps over to him with a frown deep set on his face. He can hear the slow drag of each breath, blood clotting and rising in the back of his throat. A punctured lung.

But despite being on the verge of death, the raider jumps forward with the last bit of strength he has. He dives for the pistol still gripped in the woman’s grasp. But as before, Danse is the quicker draw.  

-

The room the raiders were heading to leads down a ramp that opens to a cell. An old prison that Danse has no time to wonder what use to happen here in Nate’s time. It’s dark and there’s not much light getting in through the leaf clotted windows. He turns on his head lamp, lighting his way towards the stairs on the other side of the cell. As Danse passes the steel bars in his search for Nate, the sound of a hammer to a gun cocking catches his attention.

Danse looks into the cell, his head lamp lighting up the shadows. In the corner, something that he didn’t see before is quick to catch his attention. In his blue vault suit and mismatched armour pieces of leather and combat, is the man Danse was looking for.

“Nate?” Danse calls out.

A pained, hearty chuckle comes from the corner that is none other than the vault dweller’s. Quicker and a bit more drastic than he should have, Danse opens up the cell door and stomps inside.

The entire right side of the vault suit is coloured red where Nate holds onto a leaking wound. His usually tanned face is pale as a ghost, sweat dripping and beading down his temple. Yet, even though he trembling from the lack of blood he still has a cocky smile upon his lips.

Bandages and other first aid equipment is spewed around him in a shitty attempt to bound his own wound. At the sight, Danse is quick to exit his power armour. The fat metal digits of the power armour are not going to be able to flirt around the finer details of bandaging up Nate. He doesn’t even think about how foreign it is to be outside of his power armour. His mind his appointed to Nate curled up in the corner of the cell.

“Report to me, Initiate,” Danse says, needing the vault dweller to talk to him.

He gathers up the medical supplies and even reaches forward to search into the pouches on Nate’s webbing belt. Nate groans at the sudden movement and watches Danse with hazy dark blue eyes. The Paladin stops for a moment and looks at the blood weeping from between his fingers. He can’t let himself become panicked in this moment.

“I said report to me,” Danse speaks more firmly. “That’s an order.”

Before Nate can utter a word, Danse moves his hand away to assess the damage. A bullet is still lodged in his side, the wound a deep hole in his side. No exit wound.

“Got shot,” Nate bites back through gritted teeth. Short and blunt, but at least he’s talking.  

Danse glances a glare his way as he begins to twists a bandage in his fingers. “How?” He asks.

Anything to keep Nate aware. He needs to keep him talking.

“I hoped it would be you to come,” Nate speaks with a thick slur. “My knight in shining armour.”

Danse doesn’t warn Nate as he digs the bandage deep into his bullet wound. The vault dweller barks out in pain, grabbing out onto Danse’s shoulder to try and keep himself grounded. Danse pushes him back, his head hitting the wall with a light thud. Nate breathes in heavily and grinds his heels into the ground as Danse pushes more bandages inside the wound to stop the bleeding for now. All until he can get Nate back to the station.

“Now is not the time for jokes and quips,” Danse adds before he rips off the remaining of the bandage with his teeth.

Cleanliness is something that cannot be thought of at this given moment. He needs Nate out of here before he becomes another victim of the harsh reality of the commonwealth. He just needs to get him to the station where Haylen can patch him up properly.

“The turret got me,” Nate grits out through his teeth. “Didn’t see it until the last minute.”

“And you got this far afterwards?” Danse asks.

Nate grins at that. “Also got pretty beat up. Didn’t expect a…” he wonders off for a moment, his breathing becoming shallow before he perks up again, “didn’t expect a baseball bat to hurt that badly.” He quirks even in his near death state.

The Paladin doesn’t say anything else to that as he wraps the remaining bandage around Nate’s torso. He pulls it tight, keeping pressure on the wound. Nate flinches at every movement, squeezing his eyes shut with his jaw set tightly. Danse looks over his handy work and deems it able to last the trip back. Not perfect, but good enough.

“Can you stand?” Danse asks.

Nate looks at him bleakly through squinted eyes. His trembling isn’t as bad as it was before, but he looks as if holding his head up is a mission.

“I’ll take that as a no,” the Paladin answers to himself.

He gathers Nate’s things back into his pouches and quickly realizes the man is out of stimpacks. Stupid mistake. Coming out here with barely anything on him. Does he think himself invisible!?

Danse stands up and walks back over to his power armour. Without a word, he enters it and heavy metal sets back into place. He now feels more at home inside of the T-60, now coming to the realization that his back was unprotected the entire time he was patching Nate up. Stupid move. But it’s much safer inside 110 pounds of pure steel and machinery. He can protect himself and most importantly, Nate.

He walks over to Nate and as careful as he can, picks him up like some husband taking his wife away to his honeymoon. Nate groans and hisses in pain as the movement pulls and tugs on his side and all the other bruised and bashed places he’s been struck over. The bullet probably not feeling all to comfortable either still wedged in between muscle. Nate holds onto one of the bars on the Paladin’s chest piece with his head dipped between his shoulders.

Danse moves in a hurry out of the building all while trying to not jostle Nate around too much. He just has to make the trip back to the police station.

-

“A true damsel in distress,” are the first words that come from Rhys’s mouth as Paladin Danse walks through the doors.  

Haylen ignores the Knight. She keeps her distance until the Paladin has set Nate down onto a table that she has place into the middle of the side room specifically for him. Danse takes three steps back as Haylen instantly gets to work. She has the basic medical training but has had to learn more from being around the Knight and the Paladin.

“Rhys a need some purified water,” Scribe Haylen instructs without taking her eyes off of Nate.

“What?”

“Now!” She snaps in a tone that both of them rarely seen.

Rhys grumbles as he goes into the back room, leaving them for now. Haylen steadily takes the bandaging off of Nate’s torso, not knowing the full extent of his wounds.

Danse takes his helmet off, the locks hissing and releasing as he does. “As far as I’ve taken note, there is a bullet still in his side and he’s taken multiple hits with a blunt object,” he informs to her.

“Thank you, Paladin,” she says, her voice monotoned with her mind deep on the task at hand.

Nate groans as he moves his hand to his waist, his blood slicked fingers unclipping one of his pouches. He slips out a small device, something that Danse doesn’t recognise at first. But when he holds it out to Haylen, she stops cold.

The Haptic Drive is held between his bloody fingers.

Haylen takes it off him with her mouth a gape. He still got the damn device. Even after all that happen to him.

“Told you I’d get it,” Nate grins as he peers through one narrow eye.

“You stupid man,” Haylen mumbles as she takes it from him.

She sets it aside before returning back to patching Nate up. His priority over the bullet in his side worries Danse for a moment. But he’s seen this happen within the Brotherhood so many times over he can’t truly count them all. Despite being a man out of time, a man from the past. Nate fits into the Commonwealth a little too well.

It could be his military past. Or is pure need to get his son back. But whatever drives him is something that Danse rarely sees within the Commonwealth again. He is aware that Nate’s ranking is unofficial at this moment, but he truly wishes that other members of the Brotherhood could see Nate. Maybe he could inspire people within the Brotherhood. To keep fighting and to keep moving forward.

Danse could deny it a little bit longer for his own sake. Keep himself chin high in work and patrols. But he’ll give himself the benefit of the doubt that Nate’s actions have given Danse a new drive forward. Something he hasn’t felt in a long, long time.

-

:)

[sirmanmister]

💥💥💥 BOOM POW GET KILLED GET KILLED GET KILLED!!!!!

This is a redraw from January 6 2023, in honour of it being 1 YEAR since I posted the last chapter of The Father(s) and Son(s)!!!!! A little bit over a year actually because it was April 10th and it took me a little while to draw this lol

So much has changed in the span of a year omg. And for THE BETTER?? Like I’m going to school, I made and lost friends, I’m slowly but surely getting over some social anxiety (still a wip tho!!! 😭😭) and I’ve found so many cool mutuals and artists and just!!!! AAA!! Not to mention my art skills have improved a whole HELL of a lot!! LMAO

I don’t write as much as I did when I wrote my fic initially, and I feel bad for that sometimes, but it’s just a testament to how things have gotten a lot better for me and it’s not bad that I’m busy. I’m still trying to cobble together some more writing to eventually get another fic out, cuz I do genuinely miss it, but we’ll get there when we get there!

Anyway. TYSM TO EVERYBODY THATS STUCK AROUND FOR SO LONG/CAME HERE FROM MY FIC IN THE FIRST PLACE I LOVE YOU ALL AND YOU MADE MY LIFE BETTER!! 🫶🫶🫶🫶

Pspsps closeups/old pic under the cut!!

[watchyourdigits]

Falloutober Day One:

War Never Changes

I'm a little late to the party, but here's what I've got for day number one of Falloutober! The main fic for these two is Danse-centric, so I thought it'd be a fun challenge to rewrite the opening scene from Frankie's perspective this time. Enjoy~

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: mild sexual language, canon typical violence

Ship: Paldadin Danse x male Sole Survivor

"What's the plan here?"

Frankie rolled his eyes behind his gas mask, barely suppressing a groan. His newly acquired commanding officer had been, up until that very moment, the one calling the shots.

Why would Danse, an otherwise by-the-book kind of man, hand him the reins without warning? The question served as an obvious test; it wasn't as if this so-called 'Paladin' had been anything but wary of him thus far.

Now, facing down an unknown number of super mutants, he was suddenly leaving Frankie to figure out the best course of action.

He wouldn't know subtlety if it smacked him clean across his stupid, perfect face.

Frankie peered above the bushes they were squatting behind to get a better look at the camp. He did a quick visual scan of the place before pulling his head back down behind cover.

"I see three, but there's definitely more."

He tried to explain that his preferred method of sneak-attack wouldn't be as effective with super mutants as it would with human enemies, but the Paladin cut him off.

Typical.

Frankie tapped his fingers against his thigh impatiently as he was, once again, chastised for his manner of dress.

"You'd see better if you weren't wearing that ridiculous thing."

That tone of his was enough to make Frankie grimace. Despite his disarming good looks, Danse was proving no different than the military officials he served before the whole world went to shit. Society was functionally nonexistent and all Danse could seem to think about was arbitrary uniform codes.

Maybe you should just, I dunno, show him your ugly fuckin' mug? Then he'd get it.

He knew that was never truly an option, but it was nonetheless entertaining to imagine Danse's reaction to the grand reveal that he'd been on the receiving end of an unsightly facial disfigurement.

Deathclaws and power armor... Bad combo. Should probably warn him about that...

Frankie opted to ignore him, a momentous exercise of restraint on his behalf, the likes of which the Paladin would probably never be able to appreciate.

"It's not my favorite idea, but how's about you provide covering fire and I'll go in guns blazing?" he said confidently.

"I suppose it's not the worst plan in the world," Danse replied, shrugging his hulking, metal-clad shoulders, drawing an unseen smirk from Frankie at the sight of it. "You point, I shoot."

It was all too obvious that Danse didn't think he'd succeed. Frankie wasn't one to take such a challenge lightly. Hell, if a deathclaw and the literal end of the world couldn't take him down, he was practically invincible, right?

Frankie gave a smug smile behind his mask, clapping Danse on the shoulder.

"Good man. I'll see you on the other side."

He gave a quick two-finger salute, knowing damn well it was sure to piss Danse off to no end since it wasn't the classic Brotherhood salute he'd been taught. Just before he slid down the side of the hill, he caught a glimpse of Danse's face as expression changed to that of a man questioning his life choices.

He sure is somethin'... Guess this shit ain't so different from how it used to be, though. Murderin' everythin' in sight, dealing with annoying military bullshit… Annoying commanding officers with big ole cow eyes. Tryin' not to think about how good said commanding officer would look on his knees…

Frankie shook his head, trying to reel himself back in. He could dwell on his perversions later. Right now, he had to prove he was all he claimed and then some.

God, if you can hear me, just know that I think you're a real sick sonuvabitch.

"Two-hundred years on ice and a fella still can't catch a fuckin' break," he mumbled to himself.

He loaded his shotgun as he approached the first mutie he saw guarding the entrance to the camp. He noticed Frankie far too late.

Before the lumbering abomination could open his mouth to alert the others in his company, a laser fired from the hillside hit him square in the chest. He stumbled a little and Frankie finished him off with two shots to the head, whistling low.

He's a phenomenal shot, I'll give him that. Good timing, too.

Frankie took great delight in the easy flow of the battle. The mutants were slow to react, giving him ample time to sort out his strategy as he went. He made his way through the camp, drawing out his enemies toward the chaos and systematically taking them down, ducking behind cover to reload as Danse provided covering fire from above.

When things finally settled and the last of the super mutants fell, he allowed himself a moment to relish in the silence that rang in his ears. Frankie pulled up his mask just enough to spit on the ground, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

The mask fell back into place as he reached the entrance of the camp, giving a thumbs up in Danse's general direction. The Paladin was down the hill and standing before him within seconds.

"Great work up there," Frankie commended. He understood better than most the value in having a trained set of eyes looking out. "Good to know you've got my back."

Danse began removing the helmet of his power armor. Frankie felt a tug in his gut, firmly aware of the way his jaw hung open like an idiot upon watching him run a hand through that thick, dark hair of his. His mind began to wander as Danse's mouth moved, Frankie only barely hearing the words he spoke.

"Same to you, soldier. It's been a while since I've seen potential like that."

Danse sounded genuine about it, too. For half a second, Frankie found himself delusional enough to believe that perhaps he was flirting. With a subordinate, no less.

Just keep it casual, for once in your goddamn life. No sudden advances.

"I told you I had military experience," Frankie replied jokingly, testing the waters. "Did you think I was lyin'?" he asked, leaning himself against one of the rotting wooden fences, paying no mind to the super mutant blood that now called it home.

"No. However, your secrecy leaves you with a lot to prove."

There it is. Damn… Audacious prick.

"Is that so?" Frankie drawled, huffing a little through his nose. "Remind me to tell Elder Maxson that he should give you a promotion."

Danse raised an eyebrow. Of course it was the one with the scar through it. Frankie felt heat traveling up his neck, choking him.

He wanted nothing more than to grab him by those stupid handles of his power armor, pull him down to his level, and-

"Why is that?" Danse asked curiously, cocking his head.

"Because I'll be the best damn thing that's happened to the Brotherhood yet," Frankie answered without missing a beat.

"That's a bold claim. I admire your ambition."

Danse sounded amused, much to Frankie's dismay.

He kept bringing the conversation to the brink of what could constitute flirting. It was maddening, especially as Frankie's body continued to relax, muscles melting under his skin as the adrenaline faded away.

"Bold? I've earned my ego, pal."

Frankie pushed off the fence and had to look away from Danse, growing increasingly concerned that his impulses might cause him to do something idiotic. Like give him a right hook. Or kiss him. Maybe both.

"Maybe one day you'll get it through that thick skull of yours..." Frankie continued bitterly, "I'm not your average wastelander."

He turned on his heel and stalked away into the camp to loot it for all it was worth. A good enough distraction as any, he figured.

The backhanded compliments, the unsolicited commentary on his attire, and the fact that Danse was the most delicious thing he'd laid his eyes on… Frankie knew he was in for a hell of a time working with the Brotherhood of Steel.

Despite all his tense irritation, there was the undeniable feeling of 'home' that came with working with Danse.

It was all so familiar, comforting in a sentimental way. And Frankie was a sentimental bastard, if there ever was one.

Yeah, nothin's changed a lick.

[gaqalesqua]

Nate Pendleton falls hard for his detective friend.

[fallout4reacts]

Asking for a friend, what are your favourite Male Sole x Piper Wright fics or posts? Send them Mod’s way!!

Thanks lovelies, Mod misses you. 💕

[fxrehawk]

like a rotten dog

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Fallout 4, Fallout (Video Games)Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Dogmeat & Sole Survivor (Fallout) Characters: Sole Survivor (Fallout), Male Sole Survivor (Fallout 4), Dogmeat (Fallout), Brotherhood of Steel Character(s) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, The Institute (Fallout), Canon-Typical Institute Shenanigans (Fallout 4), Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dog Fighting, Animal Death, I literally cannot be more clear about this: a dog being killed is central to the plot here Summary: Sole survivor Reed has a jarring encounter with a ghoulified dog that brings up feelings he doesn’t want to think about, and leaves him with questions he doesn’t want answers to. A rewrite of the chance encounter with an injured dog and a glitch that can occur with the encounter, adapted for my sole survivor’s alternate storyline.

you can read this fic over on AO3

commission info | ko-fi

[minnophee-writes]

My Little Crybaby~ Pt. 2

A/N: Here's part two to the multi-part Johnny fic uwu the drawing inspired this chapter and I also love inserting myself into fandoms, hehehe this isn't beta read so any errors are on me!

Fandom: Texas Chainsaw Massacre

Pairing: Johnny x Reader

Series Warnings: Character death, blood, violence, knives, brief knife play, implied blood kink, kidnapping, death, non-consensual touching, slight dub-con, smaller person / taller man, size difference, abuse, physical, emotional and verbal abuse, mentions of female anatomy, smut, oral sex

Chapter Warnings: Character death, blood, mentions of corpses, description of corpses, descriptions of death, knives, verbal abuse, non-consensual touching, rough touching / handling, violence, brief knife play, slight blood kink

Summary: When you wake up bound back in the basement you almost feel helpless until help arrives. You attempt to escape while witnessing your friends' lives come to an end but a certain someone wants you all to themselves.

Word Count: 2,713 words

The last thing you remember was a handsome face with a pair of icy eyes staring intensely back at you before everything went black. Now you were in a dark, damp room - possibly in the basement if you had to guess, and your wrists were bound again. You tugged on your restraints but the rope was tightly knotted and connected to the leg of a table that was bolted into the ground. You were feeling helpless and worried about your friends but you knew that wouldn't get you out of your predicament.

'I hope Leland found the others... I need to get out of here...' you thought to yourself.

You scanned the space around you and noticed a small, blue object laying not far from your right leg. It looked like an old switch-blade, slightly dull but it would have to do.

Luckily your legs and feet weren't tied up so you began to maneuverer your leg over to the small blade, slowly dragging it toward yourself before being able to get it within arms reach. As soon as it was close enough you grasped it firmly in your hand before quickly trying to slice through the thick material. Your guess about the sharpness of the switch-blade was correct but you continued regardless, concentrating on cutting your bindings and hopefully find help or an exit.

"C'mon... c'mon, damn it."

Sweat was beginning to roll down your temples, the invisible weight of making sure you survive this hell was hanging heavy over you - but you prayed you weren't the sole survivor and that you'd see your friends again soon.

Distant noises could be heard from the other side of the door which caused you to pause your movements. You debated whether to hide the blade or attempt to cut through the rope faster but the silence that then followed was deafening. You weren't sure if your mind was playing tricks on you or not, however, you shook your head and continued your previous task. When your head was down and your concentration was on your restraints you didn't notice the door silently opening or the figure stepping into the room.

Your bindings finally released you and you massaged your tender skin around your wrists all while the figure crept toward you, your back facing them and completely oblivious to any danger. A large hand covered your mouth while the other wrapped around your torso and pinned your arms to your sides. Your shouts were muffled but your legs were still mobile so you thrashed as hard as you could, attempting to kick your attacker in the knees but then a familiar voice tried to shush you.

"Hey, hey! Y/N, it's me - it's Leland!" A male voice whispered into your ear and your head swivelled around to look at him.

"Oh my God! You nearly gave me a heart-attack," was your response, "but I'm glad to see you."

"Same here."

"Did you find the others?" You meekly asked.

Leland's face fell at the mention of your other friends and he let out an exhausted sigh. He couldn't blame your naivety of the obvious, possible outcome it but he also knew you had no clue of the horrors he encountered while you were unconscious. Leland witnessed Connie's stomach being shredded and torn open by the sharp blades of the chainsaw carried by the man in the mask, her blood and intestines falling onto the floor with a wet slap as her body then collapsed on top of her own gore. Sonny was brutally stabbed multiple times in the abdomen before the moist sheathing sound of a knife ripped through skin and embedded itself into his neck. Blood flowed down his dark skin and soaking his shirt as the man in the torn shirt and denim jeans tossed Sonny face first into the dirt below. Leland can still see Sonny's lifeless eyes peering directly at him from behind the cover of the old, wooden shed. He had also heard the pained cries of Ana echoing around him at one point then nothing. The basement had been silent ever since.

The only reason Leland knew where to find you was when he was attempting to lock-pick the side gate, and turning off the car battery electrifying the fence, he had seen the same man who had killed Sonny carrying your limp body toward a makeshift shack and carefully climbing down the ladder with you perched on his shoulders. Leland had followed after him, waiting for the perfect opportunity to sneak into the room and rescue you.

"I'm getting you out of here." Leland stated with determination, "Come on, follow me."

~~~~~~~

Leland had guided you to where the ladder was and told you the side gate is nearly prepped, he just needed a little more time picking the pad-lock. You began to climb up the ladder first while Leland watched your back, you tried to be cautious of making noise but you couldn't help your starving need to escape this nightmare. When you reached the top you didn't notice a well-crafted bone trap near the back of the shack, directly in the path to the gate.

As Leland ascended after you, you had the urge to venture toward your last obstacle to freedom when the sudden pain of sharp, needle-like claws snapped shut around your ankle and dug into your skin. You yelped in agony and fell to the ground in a heap, the pain too much to bare as tears gathered in your eyes while you tried to pry the trap off but your blood smeared across your hands making it slippery and difficult to get a firm grip on the object.

"Shit - I'm coming, Y/N!"

Leland was able to grab a bit of the twine that was holding a part of the trap together and yanked on it while also using a sharpened bone to wedge the trap open. You felt the trap's jagged, barbed spikes tear your flesh more when Leland pulled it away from your skin, all the small puncture wounds and your blood trickling down your ankle and into your sock and shoe. You whimpered in discomfort but you were grateful to have Leland's assistance and support at that current moment in time.

Leland tossed the destroyed trap to the side and extended a friendly hand toward you to help you up off the dirt. You grasped onto his hand as he steadied you to your feet, your ankle pulsing and flaring up at the pressure you were putting on it but you needed to keep moving.

You parted your lips to give Leland your thanks when suddenly the wet sound of something ripping through fabric was heard and Leland gave a grunt followed by a long, pained whine. His brows pinched aggressively and his mouth twisted into a weak snarl as he lifted an arm up and behind his back - as if to reach something, while you held onto his other hand. Your confused gaze met his terrified ones, Leland's grip on your hand began to slacken and his body descended onto his knees exposing the figure behind him.

The man that had taken you hostage stood menacingly over Leland, his hand grasping onto the leather handle of his large hunting knife and yanked it out of your friend's back. The person then pulled Leland's head back by his hair before aggressively slicing the blade across Leland's throat. Blood spurted out onto the ground below, some droplets splattered across your legs and clothes, while a large drizzle of blood landed on your cheek. Leland attempted to cry out only for him to gargle on his own blood filling his lungs and mouth, his outstretched hands grabbing onto you with what little strength he had left for support before Leland finally collapsed into the dirt with a solid 'thump'. His lifeless corpse lay motionless before you, your eyes nearly bursting out of your head and tears slowly blurring your vision as adrenaline shook your entire body.

"L-Leland?"

You were in shock, your brain was trying to process what had just happened and if it was actually reality or some mess up, fever dream but the cooling sensation your friend's blood staining your body told you it was real. It actually happened.

The man's eyes were pinned on you, laser focused and a smug smile settling on his handsome face. He crept toward you while you were in your frozen state, attempting to approach you like you were some sort of rabbit.

"Hey now, it don't have to be like this." The man cooed as he slowly began to circle around you like prey. "My name's Johnny, and you are...?"

You stayed silent, fearful that anything you say might be your last, and you didn't want it to be something stupid either. You just watched him and jerked your body out of arms reach when he got too close for comfort.

"Listen here, Rabbit, you do as I tell you and everything will be fine..."

Your body and mind were screaming at you to run, run as fast as you could but a small part of you knew your stamina would be your downfall. You be that 'Johnny' would catch up to you in no time if he tired you out. That reasoning flew out the window as soon as Johnny took another step closer toward you again and you took off like a tightly wound spring being released. Your mind chose flight over fight and your legs dashed you through the small, wooden shack and straight for the side gate.

"Hey! Get your ass back here!" Johnny shouted after you as he took chase, "I ain't done with you yet, sweet-cheeks."

Your legs propelled you forward but muscular arms encased around your stomach and pulled you into the rough embrace of Johnny, his grip like a python's and unwilling to let you go. You screamed in terror and thrashed your entire body in hopes to stun your assailant with a head-butt to the face, or a sharp strike in the thigh or knee.

Johnny chuckled at your weak attempts and dragged you back to the ladder while you tried to cling onto any stable object or grooves in the walls to prevent him from dragging you down into the basement again. Everything slipped through your fingers like sand before you had a chance to properly grasp anything and your legs kicked the air as Johnny held you firmly in his arms. A rough, callused hand slapped itself over your parted lips as you went to shout again, silencing you as to not have Johnny's family hear that he kept one alive.

"Now, now, rabbit - you need to calm down and shut the hell up or I'm gonna have to make you..." Johnny's eyes glared at you as you stopped jerking in his arms. "Good. Keep your mouth shut, do as I say and maybe I'll give you a reward."

You didn't want to be mutilated like the others so you followed, mainly dragged, back into the dark room again but this time Johnny pulled a pair of cuffs from his jean's back pocket. Johnny slapped one end of the cuff to your bruised wrist and attached the other end to a rusted pipe next to the table you were previously restrained to. You tried to give Johnny the nastiest glare you could but he only seemed to chuckle at you, your scowl looking more of a pout through his eyes.

"No need to sulk, little rabbit." Johnny slowly strutted over to the other side of the table and examining something on its surface, "I promise we're gonna have so much fun."

He lifted a small knife off the table, another switch-blade but a black one. Your entire body tensed in anticipation and you pressed even closer against the wall, you weren't keen on what Johnny planned for you and you didn't plan on finding out. A gasp left your lips as you slightly rattled the cuff, you let out a low whine as Johnny crept closer to you with the knife in his hand.

"No, no, no - please! Please don't hurt me!" Your voice cracked as fear took over your mind making you panicked like a startled deer.

A sharp sting could be felt across your left cheek, a small trickle of blood appeared soon after. Johnny then quickly flicked the blade over your right collar bone causing you to cry out in pain from the sudden cuts. You lifted your free arm to protect yourself but Johnny just laughed at your misery, he then slashed your forearm - the cut going a bit deeper than he intended and you cradled your arm into your chest.

Tears flowed down your face as your face, chest and arm left like they were on fire, your body curling into itself for protection as your distressed mind attempted to process cherished memories of family and friends flashing in your head. Johnny gave a little sigh before he made his way to a rotten cabinet and grabbed some sort of medicine bottle, with faded labelling, and a frayed rag.

Johnny paused in front of the table again where he placed the switch-blade before grasping it in his hand and leisurely flicked his tongue across the blade, cleaning your blood from it while staring down at you intensely with a hidden emotion behind them. Johnny then focused on cleaning your wounds while you made an effort to distance yourself from him.

"Calm down rabbit, making sure your weak body heals." He soaked the rag in the mysterious liquid from the bottle and began to wipe your cuts and blood.

You squirmed a bit from the slight pain as Johnny cleaned your injuries. Your body trembled from the close proximity between you both, his intimidating figure hovered over your much smaller one and you could smell his natural musky scent of blood, dirt, and leather. You also noticed that Johnny had a faded scar on his face that runs from his hairline, down his left eye and curves onto his cheek. You only realised it was were because your subconscious mind relaxed at Johnny's tranquil motions as he softly caressed the rag over your skin and murmured praises into your ear.

Once he was done cleaning your injuries Johnny stood up and threw away the bloody rag and stroked your hair briefly, he squatted down to your level with a deadpan stare - his eyes expressing grave seriousness when he spoke to you next.

"Now listen here, little rabbit, you alert anyone that you're down here my family will gut you like your friends. So if you want to live you do as I say when I say - got it?"

Johnny grasped your face and made sure you looked into his eyes, he wanted to know that you understood what he was saying. He wanted to keep a victim for once, his sexual urges have plagued him for months and finally he has a little toy to play with but need to make sure his family was oblivious. He found the perfect pet, you, and he didn't plan on letting you go any time soon.

"You're mine. I'll take care of you as long as you listen to me." He lastly stated, his blue eyes connecting with yours.

You're lips quivered as you attempted to blink the tears from your vision. Johnny gave your cheek a pat and his chapped lips pressed against your forehead before he got up, left the room, and locked the door - leaving you alone again.

You struggled to muffle your cries but you finally released your bottled up emotions and sobbed into your hands. You were trapped underground with a very unstable man as your keeper and his family had brutally murdered your friends without reason.

You leaned against the corroding wall and closed your eyes, you tried to believe this was all just a nightmare but no matter how many times you made an effort to wake up back in your own room you would open your eyes again only to see the same decaying room. The next time you closed your eyes your mind then decided to drift off into a restless slumber.

[weirdsht]

So…hi! I really like your writing, it’s incredible! I believe your request is open! I actually have a two things in my mind so you can choose which one to write

headcanon with our trio! What will they do if they hear s/o’s death but then boom! S/o is alive but not healthy, just injured

Then there’s fic idea, Dokja just being fanboy about Joonghyuk and his s/o(not Lee Seolhwa)

You can ignore this one, or please tell me if something is uncomfortable for you to write!

Live Admiration

a/n: thank you for enjoying what I write and for requesting! I wrote the second one because I'm not sure if you meant the orv trio in your first one I'm not really known for orv fics so please confirm because I also want to write your first idea hehe

tags: 5+1 fic, gn reader, jhy/reader, kdj&reader, kdj&hsy, kdy&sangah, established relationship for most of the fic (except the first part), bully fourth wall, overprotective yjh, mentions of harassment, mentions of self-sacrifice and possible death, possible ooc, Dokja being the massive fanboy that he is, hsy's poor battered shoulder, a nearly one page worth of possible angst monologue from reader at the end

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

If there's something missing in the warnings let me know so I can add it

Requests are open and welcomed

Any form of interaction toward the post is appreciated <333

Navigation Masterlist

As the sole remaining reader of TWSA, Dokja is the most knowledgeable about everything related to the novel. That of course includes Yoo Joonghyuk’s relationships. While the protagonist even went as far as having children with Lee Seolhwa during the second regression, Joonghyuk had mostly been with _____ for most of the regressions after that.

Of course it’s not all regressions, sometimes they end up as enemies or sometimes they just have a sibling-like relationship. But those things don't stop Kim Dokja from admiring the couple and hoping they’ll end up together once a new regression starts.

That’s why even with the fourth wall’s help there are still moments where Kim Dokja can’t hide his feelings. Especially when it comes to seeing the duo he loves so much, and sometimes his admiration gets the best of him during the worst times. Like for example right now.

“Kim Dokja hurry up if you don’t want to get in my way.”

“Leave Kim Dokja alone you caveman! He isn’t even bothering you. Stop being a baby and focus on the enemies on your side.”

Dokja snapped back to reality the moment Joonghyuk snapped at him again. Oh right, they were in the middle of fighting off mobs. His goal was to meet and help _____ and get them and Joonghyuk acquainted. But the moment the reader saw the two fighting back to back, he just short circuited and went on autopilot.

‘_____ has always been so kind I don’t even know why they’re with Joonghyuk. They do look good together though.’

It was the first time they’ve met but _____ is already defending Dokja and checking in on him. That made Dokja admire them more.

“Are you alright? You don’t have a scratch or anything right? I heard those monsters' fluids are quite dangerous if they come into contact with an open wound…”

From the corner of his eyes, Dokja can see the black haired protagonist have a soft look in his eyes as _____ fuss over him. The survivor is in worse shape for they had been fighting the monsters for longer but they still went ahead and checked on Dokja instead. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine. What about you Joonghyuk?”

“Aish don’t mind that buff dude, he clearly has steel for body. Sadly it seems like he also has a steel for his personality.”

Though they say that, the two males can still see eyes carefully scanning Joonghyuk’s body to check for any abnormalities. With this, Dokja can’t help but chuckle a little. Their dynamic has always been like this, that’s why he can’t get tired of them.

But he suppose he has to keep his admiration in check a little.

~+~+~+~+~

Keeping his admiration, a more respectful term of what his doing, is harder than he thought. He can’t help it when he's finally seeing the duo’s, who recently became a couple, chemistry together.

“What do you want to eat?”

Even though Joonghyuk was grumbling when he said that, everyone in the room can see that he’ll cook anything _____ asks for. Even if they demanded a dish that can rival a 3 Michelin star restaurant. 

“I’m fine with anything! Everything you cook is super delicious!”

That got the grumbling Joonghyuk to grumble further as he looked through the pantry. Though the determination of fire to impress is very evident in his eyes. _____ merely laugh at the man grumbling at their indecisiveness while saying;

“Love you! He he”

Dokja bearing witness to everything once again can’t help but turn mush. 

“I can’t believe this is happening right in front of my eyes. The couple that can slap everyone else at least twice in terms visuals is right before my eyes acting lovey dovey”

Not quite understanding him because he was whispering to himself, Han Sooyoung looked at him weirdly before asking to clarify what he said. After denying to saying anything, the writer started to gather her food.

“Can’t believe they’re doing this in front of my eyes, I’m out. You also better get out before you get swarmed with ants.”

With that Han Sooyoung left the table after glancing at the sweet couple one last time. Dokja can agree that the couple is very sweet. Acting as if they’re in the middle of their honeymoon despite the apocalypse. It also helped Joonghyuk’s temper, he isn’t as quiet and when he regresses back to his tendency to act solo, _____ is there to keep him in check and remind him that he isn’t alone anymore.

Despite wanting to keep the warm scene before him, Dokja knows that it’s better to leave the two alone. The two need as much privacy they can get for that’s quite hard to achieve during these times. Plus Dokja was sure he’ll only bother them by staying and watching.

~+~+~+~+~

As more time passes by, almost everyone from Kim Dokja’s Company can see how much the Demon King of Salvation adores the couple of the nebula. Well everyone aside from the couple in question.

Every news about the couple, Dokja is always the first one to know. Any time someone bashes the two, Dokja is there defending the couple like his life depends on it. Kim Dokja is, for the lack of better word, the biggest fanboy of not only their nebula, but probably the whole of Korea’s power couple.

“Will you stop that, I’m gonna tattle to Seolhwa if I get a bruise”

Retreating his hand quickly, Dokja didn’t even notice he was slapping Sooyoung’s shoulder while covering his mouth.

“I can see that annoying anime filter sparkle in your eyes. You look like a paparazzi”

[she ’s right y ou know]

The demon king’s mood instantly dropped at the two ganging up on him. But that doesn’t stop him from watching the playback clip of Joonghyuk and _____ fighting back to back. He can’t take his eyes off the screen. 

It’s not just because he has been a fan of them from the beginning. Han Sooyoung too, despite her earlier comments, can be seen intently watching the clip. There’s really just something about the two that will draw you in, especially watching them fight.

The way they move as if they can read each other’s mind. The way one supplements what the other one is lacking. The way they move as if they’re dancing together in the middle of bloodshed.

A beautiful image if Kim Dokja has to say so himself.

‘What I would give to be able to watch this properly in person’

[Kim Dok ja is so lone ly he ad mire s other peo ple’s rela tion ship]

‘Shut up’

~+~+~+~+~

Despite the Kim Dokja’s Company nebula already establishing Kim Dokja as their nebula’s version of Uriel, Yoo Sangah didn’t know just how deep the constellation’s admiration ran.

“Did you know what’s the most interesting thing I saw inside the library?”

“I’m scared to find out but continue…”

“There were two whole layers in one shelf that’s just dedicated about Joonghyuk and ____, and your admiration for them.”

That made the poor demon king bright red. He's pretty self-aware about his admiration, but to hear the extent of it from someone else is different. It’s more embarrassing.

Sangah chuckled after seeing the man’s flushed face. She doesn't necessarily enjoy teasing his co-worker. Rather, she enjoys short moments like this where both of them can let their guard down and just talk about anything.

But that doesn't stop her from slipping some jokes here and there about Dokja’s fanboy tendency just to see him embarrassed. 

~+~+~+~+~

Once again, the poor shoulder’s of Han Sooyoung is the object of Kim Dokja’s harassment.

“Stop, stop. Quiet down unless you want that oaf to notice us watching and kill us instead.”

The author and writer duo are trying to discreetly the spicy scenario while hiding behind the door of the convention hall. Well, as discreetly as they can with Dokja slapping Sooyoung’s shoulder out of excitement.

Said scene the two are watching is basically Joonghyuk on the brink of snapping a poor man’s wrist. The man, who deserves whatever’s coming for him as Dokja and Sooyoung agreed earlier, was harassing _____ and kept on trying to force them to go on a date with him. 

“I kept trying to tell you I have a boyfriend. You must’ve been living under a rock to not know that.”

Joonghyuk knows _____ can take care and defend themself just fine. Everyone knows just how powerful the incarnation is both in terms of power and personality. Still as their significant other, the Supreme King has a duty of protecting them. Sure he knows they like to be independent and he’ll give them that, but there are moments like this that he feels the need to step up and help.

This mindset of Joonghyuk is what keeps Dokja going. What makes Dokja think that they really are the ultimate couple.

Hence why he can’t help but slap the abyssal black flame dragon’s incarnation’s shoulder a few more times.

“Joonghyuk let’s go, that dirt isn’t worth a speck of our precious time. Plus you promised to make gelato today, I’m looking forward to that.”

Being the obedient boyfriend that he is, Yoo Joonghyuk let go of the man’s wrist the moment his significant other finished talking. Of course not without successfully breaking the said man’s wrist. Not that _____ will notice since they already went ahead knowing that Joonghyuk will follow.

“You too, don’t you know it’s rude to eavesdrop” 

Dokja and Sooyoung’s heart dropped the moment black piercing eyes directly looked at them through the small crack of the door. 

“Don’t talk big as if you know anything about manners”

Having nothing to retort and with _____ waiting for him, Joonghyuk simply turned the other cheek. The last thing he heard was the two high fiving.

~+~+~+~+~

Kim Dokja is a calculative person. He's the one who’s always planning on what his nebula will do during scenarios. He's someone whose brain is constantly thinking of the what-ifs. Someone who knows what will happen, or has expectations of it based on his calculations.

But this, he wasn’t expecting for this to happen. Not in a million years. Not in any regression.

The resting man was caught off guard when he saw _____ come inside his room in the middle of the night with teary eyes. The same _____ who’s known for being one of the strongest incarnations. The _____ he admired and looked up to since he was young and naive. The one, aside from Joonghyuk, who helped him shape his values as he reads about them in the novel called Three Ways to Survive in a Ruined World.

“Oh… I wasn’t expecting for you to be awake. I’m sorry for bothering you and for showing myself in this state. I’ll leave you to rest. I, I just wanted to check on you”

Kim Dokja knows _____. He probably knows them better than anyone, but don’t tell Joonghyuk that. So he knows well that this is the only chance he can see this side of them. Even earlier when he first officially reunited with his nebula, _____ was the one keeping everyone in line along with Sangah. They're always the one keeping a cool head in the midst of everyone losing theirs. The empathetic one but always locks their own feelings away for they think it’ll burden everyone.

“No no, don’t go. We can talk. I actually want to talk, we haven’t seen each other for a while and you were busy comforting the kids earlier.”

_____ thought about it for a moment before moving away from the door and sitting on a spare couch near Dokja’s bed. The decision to stay made Dokja smile. There weren’t many chances to talk to _____, especially with Joonghyuk around. So this was a very rare occasion. 

“How are you? Have you been well while I was away?”

An awkward way to start but he couldn’t think of anything else. 

“Despite what you think, your nebula can hold itself up even without you. Everyone is fine, they’ve been doing more individual training these days.”

“But I’m asking about you, how have YOU been?”

That made the incarnation in front of him silent. Most of the time he’ll let them get away with reporting the nebula’s status instead of how they’ve been doing, but not this time. 

“I, I think I’ve been good too. I have Joonghyuk and the others with me so I wasn’t suffering alone.

Still, I was scared, you know. Sacred that you won’t come back to us, or when you do you’re no longer alive or something.”

Despite wiping the tears building up earlier, another batch is starting to build itself up again on the corner of _____’s eyes.

Other people were right, midnight is really the time that makes people spill their heart out. As Dokja can see, that's what _____ is currently doing.

“I know I haven’t said it nor have I openly shown it enough, but I admire you so much Dokja. I don’t think I can be as brave and strong as you. Not to put you on a pedestal but I’m always trying to follow your footsteps

‘Oh, what would Dokja do in this scenario’ ‘If Dokja was here would it be like this?’

Those kinds of thoughts always run inside my head whenever I’m facing any kind of situation.

So imagine how scared I am whenever I see you put other people first to the point of you being on the brink of death several times.

Please don’t get me wrong, I’m not telling you this to put more pressure on you. It’s embarrassing for me to tell someone just how much I like them. But I have to tell you this. Tell you how much you inspire me and the others. How much you scare us.

Because if I do then maybe you’ll take us into consideration next time.

Kim Dokja, you’re selfish you know. The only visual in your head is the betterment of the nebula. You keep thinking of us so much that you don’t see yourself in that circle despite your name being the nebula’s name.

And that’s what makes me hate you.

I love you, you’re like a brother to me. You’re the first one who gave me hope when you showed up in that dingy building to help me. You’re the reason why I met Joonghyuk and these other amazing people.

You said all of this was inside a novel you’ve read. Yet despite knowing what will happen, how each scenario will play out, you still put our well being above yours. Us, the people who were mere fiction, who were alive because someone typed us on a computer and gave life to us.

And I hate you for it, I hate how you don’t consider yourself more. I hate how you look at everyone as if you were an outsider. I hate how you probably think that way too despite you being the reason for all of us being where we are today.

Kim Dokja I hate you so much that no words can justify how much I hate you.”

The Watcher of Light and Darkness could only listen and take the weak punches _____ throws his way. Despite saying many times they hate him, their voice was still full of love and concern.

That’s why he can’t do anything. _____ made things clear to him.

He can’t even say sorry because those words wouldn’t be enough.

He didn’t even think that a time where _____, the _____, would come up to him and tell him that they admire him. Admiring was his thing. As a reader, he was always the one watching and applauding everyone else.

Dokja doesn’t know what to do nor how to react. He can only try and comfort the incarnation beside him to the best of his abilities, and that’s what he did. They had a long talk about anything and everything that night. What happened while they were separated, new trends, the kids’ going through their stubborn phase; just anything. 

Soon, the two were more comfortable and traces of tears were gone as if it didn’t even happen in the first place. 

The two talked until they fell asleep beside each other with the moonlight illuminating the room and the four main constellations from Dokja’s channel watching over them while holding their peace.

[wander-over-the-words]

Make Like An Atom

Summary: In which Nick’s “brother” is having his partner join a cult, and Nick might just have one or two grievances about that.

Characters: Nick Valentine, [Male] Sole Survivor (Nathan “Nate” West), Grand Zealot Richter; mentions of DiMA, Kasumi Nakano, Brian Virgil, Old Longfellow, High Confessor Tektus, Ellie Perkins, Father/Shaun, Paladin Danse, original Nick Valentine, Kenji Nakano, Eddie Winter, Piper Wright, Nat Wright, Dogmeat, Codsworth, Synth Shaun, John Hancock, Skinny Malone, Jennifer Lands.

Pairing: [Male] Sole Survivor/Nick Valentine.

Warnings: cult-related business, use of derogatory language toward the mentally ill (nothing people don’t call the Children of Atom in canon), radiation poisoning, description of vomiting; mentions of death, murder, execution, firearm usage.

Disclaimer: The Sole Survivor in this is based off how I played him - personality, looks, choices and all.

Notes: First Fallout 4 fic. Takes place during Far Harbor, and after the main story. I’ve always thought it was really sweet how genuinely worried Nick sounds when the Sole Survivor has to join the Children of Atom (he sounds like he’s trying to talk them out of it when it comes to going into the Nucleus), so here’s a fic about Nick being concerned about his bf joining a cult that worships something that could potentially kill him. Cause y’know you probably would be too. And let’s be real: that scene where the SS has to drink the irradiated water must look worrying as hell from Nick’s point of view.

Extra notes: This fic has literally been sitting around for about a year and I’m sick of having it hanging over me, mocking me, so I’m using the excuse of the “obligatory posting Nick Valentine content on Valentine’s Day” to finally get the damn thing posted.

All material belongs to Bethesda.

Fic available on AO3.

…

This is going too far. To hell with it - it’s already gone too far.

Nick honestly - shamefully - hadn’t thought much of it when DiMA wanted Nate to pose as a new recruit for the Children of Atom in order to gain access to their base. His mind had been so clogged with the recent revelations: the possibility of DiMA being family, this supposed information that his own head is failing to store all of his memories, Kasumi’s worries that DiMA is up to mischief, the fact that this case is proving to be a bigger doozy than just leaving the familiarity of the Commonwealth to find one lost girl.

And besides - the Children haven’t seemed like that big a threat until this point, at least in Nick’s experience. There’d been those who had attacked when people had trespassed upon their property (but, hey, who doesn’t do that in the Commonwealth?), but the bunch he and Nate had encountered in the Glowing Sea had been friendly, if just weary. Friendly enough, at least, to give them directions to Virgil’s cave, and to do no more than that.

Turns out, the folks back in Far Harbor had been right when they said everything on this island was bred nastier than that of the Commonwealth. Even extends to the people.

Stumbling upon the Children’s little ‘test of faith’ was not only proof of that, but a pretty fine wake-up call.

It’d been an even bigger wake-up call when the Grand Zealot told Nate what he’d need to do, to see if ‘Atom’ wanted Nate in their beloved group: go and drink irradiated water from the spring nearby and see what ‘Atom’ showed him.

Of course - Nate being Nate - he’d headed off without hesitation, and once they’d gotten to the spring and their geiger counters had started going haywire, Nick had had to speak up. He’d tried to suggest they just lie and say they did it.

Nate had brought up the prospect of them saying the wrong thing and losing the chance to get into the submarine base; joining up and thus doing what the Children asked of him was the only way to get in through non-violent means, like DiMA had wanted (not that non-violent means wouldn’t have been the plan anyway, as Nick’s proud to say he and his guy are on the same page about unnecessary violence).

Nick knows Nate well enough to know that he was going to go through with drinking the damn water, no matter what Nick said, so Nick had told him to at least take a Rad-X before doing this, but Nate had frustratingly turned that down too by ‘reminding’ him that the Children were obviously hoping the rads would do something to him, and the Rad-X might stop that from happening. Assured him he’d be fine, he’s gotten dosed with rads before, they have RadAway handy, everything will be fine.

Then he’d cupped his hands under the trickling water, brought it to his lips and swallowed it down.

Nick can’t begin to describe the panic that’d shot through him when Nate had choked, spraying water from between his teeth as he fought not to spit it out, and collapsed against the rocks, violently coughing, gasping for air; Nick had raced to grab the RadAway from their supplies immediately when he’d heard Nate gasp like he was shocked, and he’d looked up to find Nate staring, staring, up at the rocks above them, at…at something. When Nick had looked, he’d seen nothing - there’d been nobody there, his detection programming wasn’t picking up anything, but Nate had obviously been so sure, for he’d tracked it with his eyes as he’d stumbled away from the rocks, out of the spring, following this…thing he was seeing.

And then he’d taken off, staggering into Fog so thick, he’d almost immediately become a silhouette, and Nick had torn after him, calling for him and asking him what was wrong, what was he seeing.

He hadn’t gotten any answers at the time; Nate was muttering to himself, looking around like the world was unfamiliar to him, and Nick had turned up his auditory receptors to hear him. Occasionally, Nate would stop and say something to somebody - a confused “E-Excuse me,” or “Hello?” - or tell himself this couldn’t be real, and a couple of times, Nick had nearly jumped out of his synthetic skin when Nate had cried out in alarm and stopped suddenly like he was avoiding something, nearly making Nick crash into him.

Nick’s just glad he’d been coherent enough to take down the ferals waiting for them at the shrine Nate’s delusions had led them to. The second Nate had stopped talking nonsense and seemed to come back to reality - when Nick could hear him trying to work out the password to the terminal in the shrine - Nick had been pulling his sleeve up to find a vein to pump RadAway into, ushering Nate to sit down outside while he recovered.

Frighteningly, Nate’s face had been grey, he’d been bleeding from his nose and from the scrapes on his forehead and cheeks from where he’d crashed into the rocks back at the spring, and Nick had spotted a few loose strands of hair on the shoulders of Nate’s coat. Before Nick could get a needle into his arm, Nate had swatted his hands away, grunted out a request for him not to look, and had promptly vomited onto the ground beside them, which brought perhaps a small amount of relief that the poisoned water was officially out of Nate’s system (alongside some of that mirelurk jerky Longfellow had given him).

Once he’d successfully started to get RadAway into Nate’s system and collected a purified water from their supplies to wash his mouth out, Nick had wrenched Nate’s road goggles up into his shaggy hair to see the dazed and fatigued look in his bloodshot eyes, and he’d asked Nate how many fingers he was holding up to check how well the RadAway was flushing the so-called vision from Nate’s system. Even treated him to a stimpak for the wounds on his face, once the radiation allowed for proper healing again.

That’d been another little wake-up call: the rads. Maybe he’d thought too little of it before. There’s no way the Nucleus is as bad as the Glowing Sea, but if it’s enough to keep these fanatics happy…Well, they might be out of their depth here.

Or, at least…Nate is.

There’d been some icon…thing in the shrine, and the Grand Zealot is so pleasantly shocked when Nate shows it to him (because, of course, even to these crazies, Nate would turn out to be something special), and then comes the point of no return.

“I am ready to follow His path,” Nate says.

“Then it will be so,” the Grand Zealot replies.

Nick can’t help himself; he speaks up without even really thinking about it.

“I’m not sure this is such a good idea,” he says. “We barely know these people.”

He catches the slight twitch of Nate’s head as he just barely stops himself from turning around and looking at Nick, and the Grand Zealot looks at him with disdain but says nothing to him. He sees the way Richter looks at Nate, as if expecting Nate to say something in his place, probably tell ‘his’ synth to pipe down, but Nate doesn’t acknowledge it, so Richter goes on like Nick isn’t even there.

He gives a nod to the icon in Nate’s hand. “Head inside and present the icon to the High Confessor once his sermon is done. He’ll be interested in seeing that. Once you’ve spoken with him, you should come see me. Have a task I think you’d be useful for.”

Nick doesn’t like the way he says that.

“And here.”

Richter reaches back and holds a hand out to the guard standing behind him, who hands him a mass of dark fabric and a pair of boots, and Richter gives these to Nate.

“Some more…appropriate attire.” His already-serious expression turns into a harsh frown. “But know this: we are all devoted servants to Atom here. Messenger or no, actions against the Family will not be tolerated.”

Glancing at the body still strewn on the ground nearby, Nick thinks back to the ‘test of faith’ and his coolant turns to ice.

The frown lets up; does this man ever smile?

“Welcome, brother.”

Icon tucked under his arm, Nate looks the outfit over, then smiles with a nod and tells Richter he’s just going to change into this, he’ll meet him inside.

Richter gives him a nod, and Nate and Nick are left outside as Richter disappears into the Nucleus.

Nate gives a huff of a chuckle as he turns around, carrying the bundle of fabric, the boots and the icon as he leads the way back in the direction they’d come.

“You’re gonna blow my cover with talk like that, Nick,” he says quietly over his shoulder as Nick follows him.

“Can’t say I’d be sorry to,” Nick says honestly and just as quietly. “I’m tellin’ ya, doll, I’ve got a bad feeling about all this, and my ‘bad feelings’ are rarely wrong. Come on. Maybe we should just focus on getting Kasumi home - make like DiMA and forget about all this.”

“What, and lose the chance to find out what’s in DiMA’s memories, even though it could end up affecting this whole island?” Nate says with a hint of dramatics, then gives a small snort as he adds, more seriously, “Doesn’t sound like the Nick I know…”

He disappears behind one of the junk fences lining the Children of Atom’s land; Nick stays on the other side to give Nate his privacy, trying to look nonchalant as he feels the eyes of the man at the door on him.

“Yeah, well, the Nick you know didn’t have to watch you poison yourself with rads and go running off into dangerous Fog whilst prattling on about some figure you were seeing. This Nick did, so he’s starting to think this whole ‘joining the Children of Atom’ thing might’ve been a step too far.”

“No turning back now,” Nate says, and Nick can hear the shrug.

Nick frowns softly and opens his mouth to reply, only to stop when the collar of Nate’s coat (the one Ellie had given him as part of the detective outfit he’d received along with the offer of being Nick’s new partner, old clothes of Nick’s) falls into view as it hits the ground, and another shot of ice goes through Nick’s coolant.

That coat has been fitted with ballistic weave, so Nate is shedding his armour for the sake of this charade - meaning he’ll have no protection if someone tries to hurt him.

God knows Nate’s been through some dangerous stuff, and he’s done amazing things since clambering out of Vault 111. He’s already played double agent before, in both the Institute and the Brotherhood (triple agent? Quadruple?), and those had had their own fair share of risks too, but this is…this is different. The Institute were overzealous boogeymen, and Nate had had his son’s good word to protect him, and the Brotherhood were high and mighty zealots who just liked to hear Nate say ‘Ad victoriam’, and they’d trusted Danse’s vouching for him, but these people?

Well, they’re just plain off their rockers, and there’s nobody this time around to make sure Nate is left unbothered in this irradiated hell of unpredictable cultists. And he wishes Nate wouldn’t just…dive head-in and play the hero so recklessly.

(He’s being a huge hypocrite, of course, and Ellie would laugh at his claim about having ‘feelings’ at all about cases, but this isn’t about him, it’s Nate who’s in danger here.)

“Sure there is,” Nick replies. “We just don’t go in an’ let these people try and indoctrinate us.”

“They’re already expecting me, Nick,” Nate says; his tie is discarded onto his coat. “I found this…icon thing, remember? And I saw the, ah,” he puts on a deeper voice of faux-awe, “‘Mother of the Foooog’!”

(Nick might’ve laughed, in another situation.)

“Besides,” Nate goes on over the sound of rustling fabric, “what would we tell DiMA if we didn’t even get to go into the Nucleus? What would we tell Kasumi?”

Nick arches a brow. “That the plan was nuts and we didn’t wanna go through with it?”

“Nick…” Nate says through a fond chuckle. There’s a beat where Nick only hears the shuffling of fabric again, then Nate adds, “We’ve already committed ourselves to the cause. You really wanna just leave Kasumi’s worries floating in the wind like that?”

No, of course, he doesn’t, but…

“Well, we…don’t hafta do it this way. Found another way into the Institute, we can find another way into this place, even if we just…grab ourselves a couple Stealth Boys and wing it.”

“Ah! Sooo, what you’re saying is: I drank some poisoned water foooor…nothing?”

Of all the times to show his wit…

“Nate…”

“Why the hesitation, Nick?” Nate says. “Kasumi’s counting on us, DiMA’s expecting results and the Children already think I must be some sort of figure the ‘Mother of the Fog’ is speaking through or…something. Besides -”

There’s a beat where Nate doesn’t say anything, just gives a grunt, and then there’s the clicking of metal.

Then comes a soft thud and Nick looks to see that it’s Nate’s shoe that has hit the ground, landing atop his fallen coat and tie, and he realises Nate is changing into those boots - that clicking had been the sound of his prosthetic foot being shimmied out of its shoe.

“ - this is an opportunity, remember? To find out if DiMA was telling the truth about you guys having history. Aren’t you excited about that, at least?”

“Not sure ‘excited’ is the word for it…” Nick mutters, brow furrowed as he casts his gaze to the ground, catching the sight of Nate’s second shoe joining the first out of the corner of his eye.

It’s been an uncomfortable lump in the back of his mind ever since DiMA apparently recognised him, the prospect that DiMA is right and Nick has just…forgotten him.

When he’d awoken in that junk pile, still of half a mind that he was the real Nick Valentine, he’d just assumed he was blending in with that which was around him: trash. The Institute’s trash that they’d - he didn’t know - gotten bored of. Maybe he wasn’t doing what he was told and so the Institute got tired of trying to tie their strings to his wrists and make him dance, maybe they’d just found a new project and decided this dingy old prototype wasn’t fun to poke and prod at anymore.

The idea that someone wanted him out, helped him escape…no. Never been a thought. With the way the Institute treated synths, the very idea of mercy, let alone help, was laughable. But a second prototype…sure, he’s wondered if he was the only one ever made, but the fact that another prototype had not only been made and been with him that whole time, but had assisted him in getting out, is…well, it’s knocking a screw loose.

Another prototype…A ‘sibling’. A ‘brother’. Is that how it works? Are they family because they were on the same assembly line? Because they were…‘raised’ together?

When he thinks of his time in the Institute, he thinks of the single room he was in, the feeling of knowing somebody’s eyes were always on him, the yanking of parts coming loose in his head as they pulled him apart and put him back together, but he never thinks of a face like his own. Of someone…being there, with him, in the room.

Was it DiMA’s eyes that were always on him, or their creator’s, or both?

It’s all so confusing, he’s dangerously close to being overwhelmed - so the fact that they’re getting nearer and nearer to potential proof is causing him all sorts of levels of trepidation. If DiMA is right about them being brothers, then he’s right about everything else: that he really is just forgetting things because he can’t stuff anymore memories into his head. He hadn’t remembered Kenji at first, after all…and if he can’t fit anymore memories in, then…how long will it be before his hardware starts tossing out other things, important things, more recent things? The good times he’s had as of late, the fact that he’d completed his mission to get revenge on Winter, the people he knows and loves? Their motley crew back at Sanctuary, and the likes of Piper, Nat, Codsworth, Dogmeat, Shaun, Ellie…Nate…?

The idea of that, it…it scares him. Badly.

But that isn’t what’s important right now. What is important is the fact that DiMA’s little plan is putting Nate in the heart of an irradiated cult who carelessly gun down their own and want to shove rads down Nate’s throat until he’s as sickly and insane as the rest of them.

“And I appreciate how eager ya are to help me with that,” Nick goes on, “but…”

“But…?” Nate presses him.

Nick hesitates, then comes out with it: “But no answer would be worth it…if it costs you, doll.”

There comes silence then, even the sounds of outfits being changed has stopped, and Nick waits for Nate’s answer to that. No doubt, some other attempt at getting him to agree to this harebrained scheme, knowing Nate. He does love what a do-gooder his guy is, but even he has his limits.

“...Nick, could you…come back here with me for a moment? I, uh…don’t think I’m putting this on right.”

Nick blinks once, surprised.

Not the response he’d expected from putting his heart on his sleeve; Nate’s priorities are getting a little skewed. Besides, he hadn’t thought those robes looked particularly difficult to put on - looked sort of just like a jumper and some trousers to him - but heck, what does he know about the uniforms of these loons?

“Uh…alright,” he says confusedly, putting a hand to the fence as he turns on the spot.

He steps behind the junk wall, and before he can process the sight of Nate before him in full uniform, the lapels of his coat are grabbed and he’s pulled forward so suddenly he nearly falls, and Nate’s body is crushed against his in a hug.

Caught off-guard, Nick takes a moment to fully recognise what’s happening, his body frozen and his hands hovering in the air, then his autonomy comes back to him and he returns Nate’s hug, slowly. His hands go to Nate’s upper back and he holds him as he feels Nate lean his head against his own, shifting his fedora. The man’s got only two inches of height over him, but somehow, he’s one of the few people who have ever made Nick feel…small.

“I’ll be alright, Nick,” Nate says, close to Nick’s ear, warmly but seriously. “I promise. I’m not gonna let them talk me into doing anything that I can’t happily be a part of. We’re just gonna go in there, grab DiMA’s memories and go, and we’ll figure the rest out later.” There’s a beat. “Besides, you…do know this is just an act, right? That I don’t really believe in all this ‘Atom’ junk?”

“Course I know,” Nick says, then sighs through his nose. “It’s just that this meeting with the Children of Atom turned out…a little different than what I expected. The folks we came across in the Glowing Sea didn’t even point a gun at us, but these people…”

He gives another small sigh, then breaks the hug so he can look Nate in the face, transferring his hands to Nate’s waist instead as he remains in Nate’s personal bubble.

Looking him in the face has become slightly more rewarding, since Nate has had the courtesy of moving his road goggles up into his chestnut brown hair, giving Nick the opportunity to have his own yellow eyes lock with Nate’s hazel-blue ones.

“Just…watch what you say in there, will ya? Don’t want you endin’ up like that other guy.”

He glances in the direction of the man who had been killed, and Nate puts a hand to Nick’s cheek and turns his head to bring Nick’s attention back to him.

“I always watch what I say. And if I don’t, well - I got you around to keep me in line, right?” he asks, and when he gets a small smile, he leans forward to kiss it.

Nick gladly returns his kiss, turning it from a simple peck to a deeper smooch, enough that both of them close their eyes and hold it for a few calming seconds before Nate breaks it to smile at him.

Nick still looks concerned, thinking back to the image of Nate, dazed and pale, bleeding from his nose, starting to lose his hair, sitting next to his own puke. Nate’s been hit with rads on their travels before, but Nick had never seen him look so…ill.

“Don’t suppose you…packed your hazmat suit?”

He knows how ridiculous he sounds - if Nate packed his suit, Nick would know it, his bag ain’t that spacious - and such as it is, Nate laughs at the prospect.

“No, I didn’t,” he adjusts Nick’s lapels, straightening them from where he’d grabbed at them, “and we don’t really have the time to head back to Sanctuary to pick it up. I’d…probably be offending them, anyhow.” He gives a hiss of a laugh. “They’d probably accuse me of,” he puts on a deeper, dramatic voice, “blocking Atom’s holy touch! Such blasphemy!”

Nick can’t help the short chuckle that leaves him as he hangs his head.

“Alright…” he says wearily. “I can see when I’m beat.” He lifts his head back up to look Nate in the eye seriously. “But you tell me if you start gettin’ sick, alright? Don’t try and play the tough guy act and muscle through it, not even if one of those Children are around to hear you complaining…I’m not losin’ you to rad poisoning.”

“I could end up as a Ghoul instead.” Nate shrugs a shoulder, looking up like he’s genuinely thinking about this. “Hancock’s always saying I’d make a great Ghoul.”

“Yeah, well, he would.” He gives Nate’s waist a shake. “But I’m bein’ serious here.”

“I know, Nick. I’ve been watching my rad count ever since I realised my Pip-Boy has a geiger counter.” Nate looks at him and smirks. “Since when did you go all Mother Hen?”

“Since my guy decided drinking poisoned water for the sake of a bunch of cultists was a good idea.”

“Leeet’s be honest here, Nick: is it really…the weirdest thing I’ve ever done?”

“I’ll get back to you on that verdict,” Nick says dryly, “depending on what happens next.”

Nate laughs, leaning in to Nick’s embrace, and thusly, Nick brings him in and holds him close.

Best thing to happen to him in perhaps ever, this man; saved him from Skinny Malone, from wrestling with the original Nick Valentine’s past for the rest of his days, had so happily helped him find all those holotapes, stood aside and let him kill Eddie Winter on his own and then stood by him where Jennifer Lands had died and let Nick say his piece. Brought him on this whirlwind of an adventure that culminated in exterminating the boogeyman that had had the Commonwealth running scared for so long - and through it all, went ahead and made Nick fall for him.

How many of Nick’s clients could say they’d done that?

Just the one - this one right here, in Nick’s arms (though he hasn’t been just a client for a long while now).

So if anything happens to Nate while they’re carrying out this plan of DiMA’s, Nick will be taking his grievances straight back to ‘bro’.

Nate pulls back from their hug, and Nick rests his metal hand on Nate’s cheek, thumb brushing tenderly over the sideburn lining his jaw, before Nate takes a step back, removing himself from Nick entirely. He pulls his road goggles back down over his eyes, then ushers Nick over with a quick curl of his fingers.

“Here,” he says, “gimme your hand.”

“Hm?”

Nick watches as Nate stoops to pick up a boot, and only then does Nick realise their hug had interrupted Nate completing his new look: his right foot’s found its way into the new boot the Children have provided, while the left is naked, since Nate doesn’t bother putting a sock on his prosthetic.

“Oh,” Nick says, understanding, and offers a hand for Nate to hold so he can balance himself as he goes to one foot, shimmying the boot over his fake foot.

Once he’s finally managed to get it on, he’s all set. Nate steps back and holds out his hands to put himself on display.

“So,” he says, “how do I look?”

Nick looks him up and down, taking in the sight of Nate in the baggy, dark robes, and he replies exasperatedly, “Like a fanatic.”

“Hm - that’s great,” Nate replies, ducking to collect the coat, tie and shoes of his discarded outfit (he’s wearing the robes over his shirt and trousers, evidently), “then I’ll fit right in.”

Nick can’t help the small scoff of a chuckle that leaves him as Nate stuffs his clothes into his bag. Before he can pick the bag up, Nick ducks down and retrieves a bottle of Rad-X from one of its front pockets, waving it at him.

“I’ll slip ya these when you start lookin’ pale,” Nick says. He pops open the bottle, shakes out a pill onto his palm, then holds it out. “Best to take one now, before we head in there.”

Nate hesitates, then stands up to look at Nick properly.

“Are you sure you wanna come in there with me?” he asks. “DiMA said these people accept synths, but…the looks they were giving you when we showed up…”

“Tryin’ to get rid of me, huh?” Nick asks teasingly. “Didn’t think I was being that much of a wet blanket. But you can forget it - you’re not going in there without me, no matter how these people feel. Remember: DiMA said there was some Pre-War security keepin’ the Children of Atom from getting their paws on those memories of his. Could be anything in there, and I’d feel a whole lot better about all this if I was there to watch your back.”

“Are you sure?” Nate winces and adds hesitantly, “I mean…you do look a lot like DiMA. If anyone in there has a problem with him…they could have a problem with you too.”

Nick shrugs. “Half the Commonwealth has a problem with me. Hasn’t stopped me yet.”

Nate gives him a small smile. “Alright. It’s your call. But you may have to hold me back if anybody in there says anything about you.”

“Hey, now,” Nick cracks a smile (he doesn’t approve of Nate’s wish to pummel anybody who gives him lip, but it is sweet), “DiMA wants us doin’ this without violence, remember?”

“Sure, but,” Nate stoops to collect a can of purified water from his bag, “I feel like DiMA would understand if I told him I punched a guy in your honour.”

Nate stands up and plucks the pill from Nick’s palm, sits it on his tongue, then gulps down some water. He gives a hard swallow as the pill goes down, then nods once and drinks the rest of the water from the can. He drops the can to the ground, squashes it with his prosthetic foot, then returns the metal to his bag, most likely to convert it into raw materials for building projects later; funny, what one can make with junk.

Nate picks up his bag and rolls his shoulders, clapping his hands once in preparation.

“Alright,” Nate says, “let’s do this.”

He passes by Nick to walk around the fence, and Nick sighs wearily as he watches him go.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “Let’s.”

He follows Nate, gaining the attention of the guard by the door, who watches them closely as they approach. For a moment, Nick thinks he might be suspicious, but then the man just tells Nate that the High Confessor is in the middle of his sermon still, and that Nate should listen in.

Nate gives an obedient nod and raises a triumphant, excited fist as he slaps on a grin and exclaims, “Glory to Atom!”

As Nate disappears into the Nucleus, Nick casts the guard a deadpanned look and half-heartedly raises his own fist.

“What he said,” Nick adds dryly, and follows Nate inside.

[iliumheightnights]

Paladin Danse's response to seeing your network of interconnected settlements, all with heavily-armed defenses and the growth of a new civilization, all without Brotherhood assistance?

I got youuuuu! Ended up turning into a full fic!

[maccreadysbaby]

My Top Three Fo4 Fics (A review!)

(these are mentioned in the order I read them in)

Garage Rat by Kamisori (Ao3)

Garage Rat is a self-insert reader x RJ MacCready fic.

NSFW / SFW

I have read this one twice all the way through, and it seriously never gets old. Every single part of you, the main character, is thought out precisely, from the complex past to the interactions with other companions. It not only features MacCready, but nearly every other companion, and many side characters, the most prominent of which being Danse, the Atom Cats, and Sturges. Nate is the Sole Survivor, and the main character works under him and with him. MacCready’s storyline gets completed (how, I will not spoil.) And it is an adorable slow burn. 10/10 would recommend, would read a thousand times over.

The Father(s) and Son(s) by Sir_Man_Mister (Ao3) @sirmanmister

The Father(s) and Son(s) is a platonic male sole (Damien) and RJ MacCready fic.

NSFW / SFW

I finished this one just recently and it just. Was so good. It addresses many things that canon doesn’t, for example, how a stimpak actually works and weaving that into a beautiful storyline, and the Sole Survivor (Damien’s) feelings. Because they have them, no matter if canon addresses it or not! It is just a beautiful display of the reality that Sole would go through, the mood swings and pain and heartbreak the game pretends isn’t there. It adds just a little more volume to the wasteland, to the characters, everything. And the platonic MacCready and Damien father/son relationship is just stunning. From teaching him how to shave to simply being there for each other while they cry on a roof over their kids, it is just as fulfilling as a romantic MacCready fic, if not, more. I cried a lot while reading it. 10/10 please read it.

Stimpaks and Sniper Rounds by just_another_wasteland_merc (Ao3) @just-another-wasteland-merc

Stimpaks and Sniper Rounds is a female sole (Em) x RJ MacCready fic.

NSFW / SFW (only one nsfw scene so far, though!)

This fic explores so many different aspects of being a human. It touches on things the game doesn’t — like a sole that’s been (spoiler!) abused, verbally or otherwise, in their past, as well as the trauma of being a field medic and the sole having personal medical needs. The trauma and repercussions are so delicately handled and deliberately thought out. It isn’t just a fic where someone throws a bad past at a sole to make them sad, it’s a story of her healing, dealing with it sticking in her mind. The relationship between Em and MacCready is also handled with a graceful delicacy and I found myself shouting “just kiss already!” at my phone several times, but not in a bad way, in a “this is a very healthy, realistic slow-burn” kind of way. Everything from emotions to injuries is handled so nicely in this fic and I could not love it more. (Plus, the way MacCready is written is just *chefs kiss*) 10/10 recommend more than air.

If anyone wants me to take their story off this list I will!

[watchyourdigits]

"Now you can't stay with me forever, alright?" he said to the kitten. Her eyes were closed, body vibrating as she purred. "This is merely a temporary arrangement until you've learned to fend for yourself." The cat yawned lazily in response. Danse couldn't help but smile at how adorable she was when she wasn't harassing him for attention. He turned from the cat to face his desk. He wasn't going to allow himself to get attached, not when she'd eventually be big enough to run off on her own.

Danse is trying his best to make a home in Sanctuary in Frankie's absence. Regular people are hard enough to talk to, let alone another synth.

Cats are difficult, too, but Danse finds himself in the company of one, whether he likes it or not. He tells himself he won't let her stick around and definitely intends on passing her off on someone else. It's a tale as old as time, really.

Frankie isn't one to break a promise. He said he'd be back soon... With the weekend drawing to a close and no reported signs of him, Danse's concerns only grow tenfold when Sanctuary faces an unexpected house call.

Oh, and MacCready definitely still hasn't forgiven Danse for knocking his teeth out.

[gaqalesqua]

Holed up for the night, Nate has to deal with the radstorm outside. Nick Valentine would like to help.

[phoenixislost]

Author Questions Tag

(Tagged by @lollybliz)

How many works do you have on Ao3? 1, and very soon will be 2.

What's your total Ao3 word count? 146,694

What fandoms do you write for? Genshin Impact, though I am also beginning to set some ideas aside for Honkai Star Rail, as well.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? I only have one published on AO3 at the moment, so by default it is History, Repeating.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I do! It brings me a lot of joy to see new comments on my writing and to get new feedback. The least I can do is thank someone for their compliments or join them in their misery over what stupid thing Character A has just done.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? This one is not published, but my angstiest ending is in a Fallout 4, Paladin Danse/Male Sole Survivor fic. It starts off with the two of them getting into a serious argument, and then ends with one of them suffering near-fatal radiation poisoning.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? For a published fic, this goes to History, Repeating by default. For unpublished fics, it would go to the sequel to my above-mentioned fic. The Sole Survivor... survives... again. (Ehe),

Do you get hate on fic? I was graced with one (1) very nasty and demanding person on History, Repeating early on, and ended up having to turn off anonymous comments because of it. Otherwise, nope!

Do you write smut? Not really, no. I write sexual themes and include sex scenes where they seem meaningful, but writing smut just isn't my cup of tea.

Do you write crossovers? I've not yet, and I usually avoid reading them, too. But I am currently considering a fusion AU for a fic in the future, if that counts.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? To my knowledge, no. The closest I've ever come to stolen writing was when I was in middle school and my friend wanted to write a story similar to mine.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Not to my knowledge, no. (Though I am happily open to it, as long as I am asked first)!

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes, and no. I've co-written fiction before, but not fanfic.

What's your all time favorite ship? I am a rampant multishipper in this fandom now, but my most comfy ship is Xiao/Aether.

What's a wip you want to finish but probably won't? I have a fic that I began writing a few years ago for the danganronpa fandom. It as a KomaHina fic set post-Danganronpa 3. Its premise turned out to be a bit of a prototype to what History, Repeating became, so chances are that I will never finish it.

What are your writing strengths? The most common compliment I get on my writing is on my visuals and descriptions, so I am inclined to say those are my strengths.

What are your writing weaknesses? I constantly worry about characterization and character motives. The last thing I want is to fall into fanon, rather than keep everyone as close to canon as I can get when it comes to fanfiction.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic? I have done this myself in bits and pieces. To me, it matters about what is being used, how it's being used, and if it is researched properly. Have context in the exposition around it, give translations in the story (in not so many words), have a footnote for readers to reference.

First fandom you wrote for? Naruto! When I was but a wee babe. Followed closely by Death Note. SasoDei and LawLight (at the time we just called it LxLight), were Baby's First Ship.

Favorite fic you've written? Published? History, Repeating. Unpublished? The fic I am currently finishing.

I'm not too sure who to tag for this, (and I am frightfully anxious to bother anyone), so this is free to whoever wants to answer these! (And please, tag me if you do, I'd love to see your answers).

[makahimetenshi]

Some traits of my Sole Survivor in fanfics

Since im writing a lot with the character im using during my playtrought i want to make some personality statements about my Sole Survivor uses...if you have a list you can see the good and bad right? It deppends on the fic if im using the male or fem version for some traits or not

Likes wine and cheese

Minutemen 80%, Brotherhood 10%, Railroad 5%, Institute 5%

Shaun is an antropologist

Stargazing

Read comics

Spends a lot of time in Far Harbor

Very fertile

Talks to animals and beasts

Skinny with big butt

Big shoulders

The kids with Arthur Maxson are always Arya and Shaun

Has an entire empty vault and its overseer of another one populated

Travel with the spouse to Washington in the past

Has a G spot

Nate and Nora were a swinger couple

Cait likes her

Likes dresses

Easily hooked on addictions

More meele than shooter type

Powerfist GRA and gunner ammo

Has some raiders settlements

Alone the first pregnancy months, full time with Nate after

Has eating desorders

Hates the wastelands and post apocaliptic society, not other kind of creatures, more fascinated than anything

Explosives build

Thinks everybody is ignorant and fool

Cruel and sadistic in the inside

Doesnt know a lot about power armor repairing or gun mods

Has a thing with personal hygiene

Hides a secret alley of drugs

Eat human meat

[theoriginaltortuga]

One of my ILITW MC’s Devon Hernandez!! (and my first post of my drawings ever) 

This Devon is actually the one from my Sole Survivor run and my Hope at the End fic, but in this AU of an AU, his friends survived, he got murdered and came back still in love with his boyfriend of two weeks, Connor Green.

In an ask on the It Lives project page, they said that Redfield!MC came back as an aged up version of themself. Obviously it’s not possible with the sprites but I like to imagine them coming back noticeably older. The semi-curly hair growth is taken from the child sprite of Male 3 which this Devon is. The blue eyes are not permanent but mainly used to freak people out in the dark, once he gets the hang of them and those long dead/bleached ends are getting cut as soon as he can reliably hold scissors again.