#nick Valentine x lone wanderer

[full-moon-phoenix]

@pan-problemed

Well I don't have anything written, but have a sketch dump!

Meet my Lone Wanderer: Chloe Zinnia Irving, but she goes by Zin. An explosive baseball fanatic, she enjoys swimming, parkour, and reading spooky texts mankind shouldn't delve in. After the events of Project Purity put her on the slow path of Ghoulification, she faced a lot of discrimination from the same Brotherhood who once treated her like family. Despite this, she stayed with them in a desperate attempt to continue her father's dreams of making the wasteland a better place, right up until she got stationed in the Commonwealth.

There she met an old synth who changed her life for the better...

[transparentkinks]

Hey, we don't talk enough about how a lot of companions are gonna way outlive the player.

Angst and death ahead!

Nick: 

Attitude

He doesn't like to think about how long he’s gonna live, and how long she’s gonna live. Never puts him in a good headspace. He just makes sure to stay by her side, keep her out of harm’s way, learn his way around radaway and stimpacks and med-x. She gave him plenty of stress, no doubt, but that was also why he loved her. She was brave. She knew what was right, she kept a level head and stood by those that stood by her. She was skilled enough to rebuild a peace the likes of which the commonwealth hadn’t known in ages. Honestly, it was probably better now. Her settlements were something to behold, and they kept the area around them safe. There was so much food, clean water, people were safe, people had something to fight for, she had taken down anything in her way. She was a one woman nuclear bomb and the commonwealth was never the same. 

He realizes sometime later on, that part of him just felt like she’d find a way to live forever. She was brilliant like that, but he also knew that’s something she’d never really pursue. It wasn’t until Nora started showing signs of age that he started looking for ways himself. He found evidence of plenty, none though that let her keep her humanity. He swore to himself he’d stay by her, support her in age and infirmity, she wouldn’t be alone. The looming threat of Nora’s death was something he proffered only to pay mind to while fighting, or while Nora entertained a much too shady quest. Then he used it to protect her, and knowing that he would be there no matter what hairbrained scheme Nora managed to get herself entangled in gave him some measure of peace of mind. Nothing would take her if he had a say in it. Maybe not even death, if that synth to human connection line of research lines up with the research on downloading a human mind. 

In the Moment

Realistically, it was probably a delicious dinner. He didn’t eat, but he set himself timers to harass Nora to eat, drink and sleep as she had a tendency to procrastinate all of them. They were not needed tonight. Tonight she wasn’t just Nora, she was Nora, general of the Minutemen. And Nora, general of the Minutemen, was to be meeting with the upper brass of diamond city. No doubt quite annoying for them, seeing as her history placed her as a dirty vault dweller asking questions in the upper stands and eventually finding out the mayor is a secret synth. The fact that she had to meet with them to solidify trade deals they desperately wanted no doubt got under their skin. 

Evidently too much, as Nora quickly curled into herself in her seat, clutching her sleeves and shaking. “N-nick?” She sounded scared as he watched a shudder wrack through her. 

“Nora, what’s wrong?” Her labored breathing had him pulling her back into him. She seemed to be foaming at the mouth. “No, baby no” he nearly dropped her in his shock, managing instead to cradle her to his chest as he fell to his knees. Her hand twitched up and he grabbed it tight. He’d seen cyanide poisoning before. He knew it hurt. There wouldn’t be enough time to get her a doctor, much less anyone who can treat a poison like this. “Please no.” He begged. Her chest was heaving, but he knew none of it would help her breathe. Her eyes were flitting around the room, unfocused and scared.

“Look at me Nora” He gave her hand a squeeze and her panicked eyes locked onto his glowing gaze. “I got you” He smoothed her hair back, winced at the pained groan falling from her lips.  “I love you Nora” and he knew it was likely the last thing she ever heard. He watched the light leave her eyes, her breaths fall short. It happened all too fast. 

He looked up around at everyone there, everyone’s reaction to what transpired. He would get to the bottom of this. He’ll find who did this. God help them when he did. 

Hancock:

Attitude

Sometimes he wished Nora would turn ghoul. He wondered if that drug he took was really the only hit ever. He didn’t care what she looked like, what the years would do to her, but he would never be ready to lose her. Not her smile, not her will to see the world made better, not her joy or her ability to see the potential good in everything around her. 

He always maintained visibility with her in battle. He’d been yelled at more than a few times for taking hits meant for her. He trusted her ability to protect herself, he knew just how incredibly capable she was, but nothing prepared him for the full blown animal panic he felt the first time he saw her go down. He fought like he hadn’t before even to save his life. He hated seeing her hurt, seeing her sick. She of all people deserved a long, healthy, pain-free life. He knew it was too late for the last one, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try to mitigate what he could. As far as he and the decent half of the commonwealth were concerned, she was a saint walking. The idea that he would somehow outlive her felt like a cruel joke.

He didn’t expect to breakdown like he did the first time he found a gray hair on Nora. He didn’t think she even woke up for it, him cradling her head on his chest, trying and failing to calm his hyperventilating with her even, rested breaths. He would make her a synth if he could, bottle her somehow and keep her like this, forever. If it wasn’t her worst nightmare he wondered if he could put her back in a cryo pod, wake her up for the best moments. She would hate it, he knows, but he dreams still, of having her around for every beautiful moment of his life. 

He knows he’ll never be ready for it, whether it comes in fifty years or tomorrow. He dreads what he’ll become when she’s gone. He knows she’ll want him to carry on her legacy, watch her settlements and keep people who just want peace safe. He would do it too, he thinks. It could become his singular drive, after her. He knows no matter what, when she’s gone he’ll just feel empty. He prays when she passes it will be peaceful, not scared or afraid or alone. He prays he’ll be there. 

When it happens

It was a political grab in the end. 

A tribe of raiders who didn’t know how she had restructured the minutemen to withstand her loss, an assassin killed seconds after they struck. 

He held her as she fell, cushioned her fall and put pressure on the wound. Packed it with clean cloth from the table that she made possible with her water purifiers and generators and traps and creative ability. It was such a brutal thing though, through the gut and up into the lung. She was supposed to be safe, she was just wearing a cotton dress. It did nothing against buckshot. He screamed for Curie.

 “Please baby, stay with me. Hold on, you’ll be okay. You’ll be okay sunshine.” He helped heave her onto the table, helped Curie access the wound, administered the med-x so she wouldn’t hurt, because god his sunshine was gasping. 

“She can’t breathe Curie, what do we do?” Curie looked like she wanted to cry, a very grim mask on her face. 

“We need to get her on oxygen or I need to get this lead out of her fast and hit her with a super stimpak. We don’t have oxygen.” Curie set to work removing each piece of buckshot, quickly and efficiently and he would never forget how Nora started to wheeze. She thrashed and he knew he had to hold her down when Curie grunted. 

“Hold on sunshine, you’ll be okay. Hold on for me.” He brushed her hair back from her forehead, placed a kiss upon it and prayed. He felt a hand on his head, caught a weak hand, laced his fingers with hers. He knew he was crying, he did during every scare, but when he caught that scared, spacy look in her eye he sobbed. “Curie, what’s going on-”

“I just keep finding more!” Curie yelled back at him, pulling out pellet after pellet. 

“Fuck, sunshine please. I don’t want a world without you. I love you.” He held their entwined hands to his face, pressed kisses to her fingertips. “Please, please, please” He wasn’t sure who he was begging. Her, god, fate? It was all happening so fast. He wasn’t ready. 

She wheezes, this awful hollow sound and he watches her eyes finally focus on him. “John?” She says it so light, so quiet, like a question. He just hoped she wasn’t as scared as she sounded. 

“Yeah sunshine, I'm right here. You’re okay.” He gave her hand a squeeze. She started to shake her head. “Please baby, you’re okay.”

“Shawn” she gave the tiniest squeeze to his hand. 

“I know baby, he’ll be okay. You know me an’ Curie and Nick and, an’ Codsworth. Ada. Strong. We- we got him. Just please hold on, hold on for me please sunshine.” He was begging at this point. She just tried to shake her head again. “Reserve your strength baby-”

“I- love you-” He hated the hollow, wet change to her voice. Her lovely, clear, beautiful voice. 

“I know sunshine.” He cut her off. “I love you too. So much. I will always love you.” She smiled, shook her head at that again. She got this faraway look in her eye. Curie pushed him away, injected the stimpack despite the countless bits of buckshot still within. She began administering CPR. After what felt like ages, Curie crumpled against Nora’s chest. She was shaking, he knew she was crying. He screamed. 

Curie:

Attitude

Curie always fretted over Nora’s health. She knew that Nora would age, that she could get hurt. Her own newfound vulnerability was certainly an adjustment when Nora got her a synth body. When she was able to actually feel it, she discovered that Nora’s vulnerability even compared to her, terrified her. 

She dedicated a lot of energy to watching Nora’s health when she realized that Nora herself didn’t pay much mind to it. She pestered Nora to eat a balanced diet, refused to move on from a fight without checking her over. When she needed stitches, Curie was the one stitching Nora up. When Nora needed medicine, Curie administered it. If Curie didn’t join Nora on an outing, she was worried until she laid eyes on Nora again. She wouldn’t let Nora settle in until she was certain Nora didn’t need treatment. 

The few times she saw Nora hurt, Curie felt more than she ever had in her life. She couldn’t focus on anything beyond healing Nora. She only really yelled if Nora was hurt and Curie was scared for her. If her and Nora fought, it was about the carelessness with which Nora dived into situations or her willingness to brush off an injury. The one time Curie ever yelled at Nora was when Nora insisted that the best plan of action for her bullet wound was to ‘walk it off’. 

Curie realized that realistically, she would far outlive Nora. Just like she outlived her researchers. She wouldn’t be alone, sure. Nora entrusted her with the long term guardianship of Shawn. She liked being a parental figure to him. They were both adjusting to synth life together, but she could still see so much of Nora in him. He felt like their son. Still, she knew she’d never be ready to say goodbye to Nora. Nora made her feel like she could understand being alive. She made her want to feel. She dreaded the day she’d have to say goodbye. All she could do was protect, care for, and cherish Nora while she had her. 

When it happens.

Curie wasn’t ready. She was not ready to watch Nora deteriorate. Cancer was an inevitability for many in the fallout riddled wasteland. She just wished it wasn’t Nora’s fate. Curie had dove into her research, but there was no safe way to treat it any more. By the time Curie found a way to potentially attack the cancer it had already reached her lymph nodes.

Curie and her friends had to hide their grief from Nora. They tried as best they could. Nora tried her best to stay upbeat through it all, shut down conversations about grief and dying. Pushed herself through dinners and parties and a few final speeches to the Minutemen. Gave her opinions as to potential succession. She started a journal, sitting for hours into the night writing down every useful piece of information she knew. Accounts of her life before the bombs, details of politics and culture. What poems she could remember, songs she loved, recipes and life tips, how-to guides and blueprints. She restructured what she could, Curie didn’t quite know how to break the news to Nora, but she seemed to know even before Curie told her. Nora set to work the moment she felt herself waver. She restructured everything about her settlements, built methods for local leadership and transfer of power and communication between settlements. Nora made sure that her radio system was robust. 

Curie hated all of it. The way Nora knew, the way she comforted her when she was telling Nora that she wouldn’t make it. The way she became unhurried, content to linger in moments. No more of that fire to act like she would never have enough time to do what she wanted. Now that Nora knew it was coming, she slowed down. She tried to hide it, but Curie knew Nora was so tired. She wouldn’t stop, but Curie knew she was slowing down to savor it. Like she wanted to remember what was happening. 

She hated it even more when it became clear Nora was hiding that it hurt. Curie and her friend group had to practically fight her to get her to rest. The last fight they ever had, Curie was sobbing, begging Nora to tell her what hurt, let her take care of her, stop pushing herself. Nora hated seeing Curie cry. The fight ended with Nora acquiescing, finally letting Curie take care of her, letting herself rest. It always took a bit of prodding to get an assessment of Nora’s pain, even more so to get her to accept pain relief. 

Curie found herself praying for one more day. Every night, when it looked like her love was wilting in front of her. Curie prayed for just one more day, found herself counting Nora’s breaths into the night. She found herself fearing this sleep she now needed, worried she’d awaken one morning to the love of her life cold beside her. She began staying up late into the night, holding Nora afraid of the moment her breathing would stop.

The night Nora passed was a painful one. Curie hadn’t left her bedside the whole day. Nora looked so tired, grimaced at just the idea of trying to move. Shawn was scared of visiting her now, had spent that morning crying into Nora’s lap, letting her run tired fingers through his hair and tell him that he would be okay, that she loves him, that he would never be alone, that he was always going to be her son. 

All of Nora’s friends were there, helping Curie and Shawn watch over Nora. They were desperate to talk to her, say their goodbyes without actually saying goodbye. As always they cringed through her morbid jokes at her own expense. No one wanted to point out to Nora that they weren't funny, that no one actually benefited from her death and no one was laughing at her new condition. 

That day Nora had more energy than normal. Fought Curie a little more about her med-x. Didn’t settle as much when Curie held her that morning. Held long conversations with each of her friends, refused to eat, if not occupied with conversation then with a book or writing. Nora and her friends felt hopeful about how she felt that night, but Curie knew otherwise. She tried not to cry. Prayed more than ever in her life for just one more day. One more day with her, please. 

The room was dark and quiet, just her and Nora. Curie held her that night, told her again how she loved her, despite her protests administering her nightly dose of painkillers because she could tell from the tightness in Nora’s limbs that she hurt. She counted Nora’s breaths as she drifted off to sleep, stroked her hair. She had nearly passed out herself when she heard what she always feared. She was shaking when she felt Nora’s breathing stop. She tried to resuscitate her. Begged for Nora to come back to her. Fought to keep her heart beating. She knew she was gone.

She was not ready to be alone.

Charon:

Attitude

Charon was willing to do a lot for Lone. Kill for her. Live for her. Die for her. She bought him, freed him, walked with him to help him realize he was free. She made him feel human again. 

There was a time, before he realized what she had done, when he wouldn’t have cared if she died. He’d seen plenty of peppy young things ground down by the wasteland, put a good few down himself. He expected to have his work cut out for him, taking care of this foolish waif of a girl. Even more so when she immediately tried to tear up the contract and “Declare him free and no longer bound to it”. She actually looked like she feared him when he explained what he was meant to do at the destruction of his contract.

Instead, she proved wildly capable, scarily adaptable. She took action without hesitation, and while he wished she would think before diving into other people’s problems he could never deny that she was brave. She was a crackshot, and there were times when she shot down every threat with her pistol before he even got a shot off. 

More often than not, she cared for him. Insisted he slept and ate, paid him money he found little use for considering she made sure he had a bed and food, and told him to fuck off on his apparently “mandatory breaks”. She wouldn’t let him go off with an injury, yelled at him when he got hurt and didn’t tell her. The only time they ever ordered him to do anything, was when they told him to run when the enclave came after them and the G.E.C.K. He spent a good time back in the underworld wondering why he felt so scared for this master, why he kept glancing at the door waiting for their crazy unkillable self to stumble through the door and drag him back out into some ill-planned charity scheme. Why instead of apathy or amusement he felt dread at the idea she wouldn't make it back.

He got his answer when he watched them walk into the water purifier. She walked into the same room where she watched her father die, didn’t even look back at her friends behind her. He knew all she needed to hear was “Lives are on the line”. He tried to stop her, but she was always fast. He hated the way her whole body shook and swayed from the radiation coursing through her as she tried to type in the code.

It was an answer he was slow to come to, waiting by the side of her bed. He thought she was a good person, better than any he had ever met. He thought she shouldn't have to do the things that she does. He thought the whole wasteland owed her a whole lot, himself included. He was free, he had realized over that bed. She was too clever to let him be anything but free, even when he could only imagine servitude. In a way he appreciated his role, not much before when people used him like a tool; but now, Lone showed him he was simply a man, and a skilled one at that. Poked and prodded and teased the humanity out of him, she insisted he deserved respect.

He followed this woman because he wanted to. He couldn’t think of wanting to spend time with anyone else. He loved hearing her talk, watching her work. He actually enjoyed talking when it was with her, even if he remained ever taciturn. He couldn’t imagine wanting to protect anyone else.

He realized he relished the work. She did good things, brought him to help her do good things. Protecting her, it felt like a good thing. Not erasing, but evening the score of the things he has done. It felt like repentance.  Whatever this woman decided she would do, he knew he wanted to be there to help her. He was free and his heart belonged to this woman because he gave it to her. It was not fear for himself and his future that caused his worry, there would be no masters after her. No, he loved her. And he did not want to live in a world without her. 

The panic that overtook him when he realized that fact was unlike anything he felt in decades. Here he was, with a love like a chain around Lone’s neck praying this wasn’t her deathbed, and nothing he could do. He didn’t think he was ever religious, but he started praying to something that night. 

She recovered, and he had to practically fight her to get her to rest instead of springing back into action. He tried hard to hide his newfound realization, but of course she noticed. He was talking more, speaking before he could even think. Pushing her not to take risks, to stay safe. Going out of his way to take bullets meant for her. He started telling her that she did enough, that she doesn't need to play hero, that she should stay safe and enjoy the relative safety she helped make. Of course she asked him what was up, offered him his contract again. 

It was hard explaining that he wanted to serve her, wanted to stay with her. Her inquisitive self pried out all the little secrets in his heart and was delighted at what she found. She accepted him wholeheartedly, despite the social stigma that came from it. She loved him, started to fight for him. She became more ferocious in her campaign to ensure those around her respected him and those like him. Wore the target that came with that like a badge of honor, sent those that challenged her off either with their tail between their legs or one extra hole in their body.  He became desperate to protect her. Anyone who wanted to so much as talk to her would have to go through him if he had any say about it. Disrespect, threats, towards her he would never tolerate. If she would try to protect him with her ferocity, he would protect her with every ounce of animosity in his soul.  

He took joy in being able to protect her, being the person she would lean on when life got hard. For the first time in as long as he can remember his life, his efforts had meaning. The paths she chose were good, she time and again fought to help people; ghouls even, people she didn’t know. She cared if they were getting enough food and water, cared to build communities, cared enough to forgive things he personally found unforgivable.  If anything he did could protect or support her, if it could bring her joy, it was worthwhile. 

How this undeniable good, loving, beautiful person could stand to love him, choose to fight for him he would never understand. He was something twisted and bent to serve a violent purpose, but if she would make him more, then his bloody talents would be hers without question. He found himself often musing over if there’s really anything he wouldn’t do for her, amusement only. She wouldn’t order him to do anything to save her life, just to save his. She was too good for this world, caught that idealism from her parents like a chronic disease. They’d both watched her father burn for it. He watched her brave radiation enough to knock a ghoul on their ass for those same ideals. He would never tell her, but he swore to himself he would protect her from herself if it came down to it. He would not stand by as she walked into hell, over his dead body. 

In the moment

“I said you’re a fucking lying bastard Maxon!” Charon had to physically hold her back. She was on the verge of tears. He knew she thought she could help change the brotherhood, help them become something more than the violent military group they were. He knew she thought they could be family. But they weren't good. Not like her. They found discrimination and massive civilian casualties to be the cost of doing business. Once again she was being betrayed by a group she thought she belonged to. 

“You will mind your words when speaking to elder Maxon.” A knight had a weapon trained on her. This was meant to be her dropping in to clear up a discrepancy. Instead they walked into a den of snakes, telling her she was being betrayed and that their favor was her being able to walk away alive. 

“Elder my ass! While he was a kid my father was dying for this project. My mom died dreaming of this project. I am willing to die for this project. She said free water for all and I’ll be damned if I don’t fight for it! You can just let people get it! There is enough for everyone! We have a caravan system going! You can’t just decide to cut people off-”

“Those aren't people” Some fascist in power armor spoke up. 

“Oh so that’s it? You’re gonna cut them off because they harbor-”

“Are infested by” Maxon corrected.

“God, Maxon what the fuck happened to you? You’re killing people with this decision, you know that?” Lone was full on crying. 

“I don’t have time for this, have them removed.” Maxon hardly looked at them as he began walking away.

“No you don’t!” Lone tried to go after him, lurching forward in Charon’s grip. 

“Lone, let's just go. We’ll figure something out.” This was getting dangerous and emotional, she wasn’t safe. He wanted to get her out of there so badly. 

“I’ll fucking kill you for this Maxon! You hear me! I’ll-” Charon pulled her back, lifting her flailing body and moving to carry her out before she decided to open fire, but he guessed someone decided not to give her the chance, hit just beneath her collarbone, into her lung. No exit wound. 

He ran, he had to get her out of there. He was thankful no one at the gate opened fire. He ran until he couldn’t see any signs of the brotherhood, and he would have ran more if not for the worrying amount of blood coating his shoulder. He shifted her and she let out a hollow, wet groan. He kicked his way into a boarded abandoned house, placed her on the rusty bed that had survived in the corner and tried to ignore the panicked wheezing sound she was making. He started looking through her pack, grabbed her med-x, stimpacks, alcohol, bandages, and tweezers.

“Charon-” She reached a clumsy hand out for him. He poured the liquor over his hands, soaked the bandages and tweezers. 

“I’m here” He brought everything over to her, felt her place a hand on his head, heard her wheeze again. 

“I got you” He set to work fast, administering the med-x before searching for the bullet. 

“Charon” She gasped out. Her voice sounded strained and wet. 

“You’re okay sweetheart”. He spoke with as much confidence as he could manage, but he knew the pet name betrayed him. She’d teased him about it before, how he only talks to her like that when one of them is fucked up. She wasn’t moving much, but she tried to shift her weight and groaned at it. “Save your energy” he commanded as he worked, placed a steadying hand over her sternum and felt it rise and fall as she breathed. He was scared of looking up at her face. He hated seeing her in pain. He just wished he could find this bullet-

“Charon” She sounded more desperate this time. “Please”. 

He glanced up at her face. It was so pale, she looked confused and scared. “I got you, you’ll be okay”. He reassured. She had lost so much blood. He just wanted to take care of this wound fast, get some stimpacks in her. Put this whole mess behind them. She wheezed again. 

“No, Charo-” 

“Please save your strength” He pleaded. She tried to move and he pushed her back, held her body in place. She stopped fighting him quickly, didn’t quite manage to hide the pained grunt from her exertion. Holding her down didn’t take as much strength as it should have. 

“Too much blo-” he hated how she talked about her injuries sometimes, like she herself was a doctor. He wanted to curse her medical background. 

“No” He felt himself shaking. She was so pale, but he couldn’t give up. 

“Listen” She pleaded. Would administering a stimpack now hurt her? He couldn’t find the bullet. He looked up, met her eyes. She looked scared. He really hoped he didn’t too. “I’m not”

“You’re gonna make it” He spoke firmly. 

“I’m not” She wheezed again. He felt her thumb pet one of the few patches of hair he had left. Normally he loved when she did that. “Charon, they’re gonna take-” 

“I know” He tried to hold back a sob. 

“I- stop them” She seemed desperate, he could practically see the lightheadedness getting to her. He felt the hand on his head briefly make a fist before flattening again. 

“I need you to hold on” he pleaded. “I love you, it's not time for you to go yet”. Fuck it, she’d lost too much blood, he can’t find the bullet and she was talking scary. He tried to ignore her wet hiss and his shaking hands as he administered the stimpack. 

“Charon” she whined. Her chest started heaving faster, like she couldn’t get enough air in her lungs. He held the hand not on his head. She felt too cold. He forced himself to meet her eye. “I love you” she spoke desperately in a whisper. 

“I know sweetheart” He spoke as softly as he could. Gripped her hand tight. Prayed the stimpack would be enough. They both knew it wouldn’t be. 

“Charon I’m scared”. She gripped his hand back as best she could. He lifted a bloody hand to grab the hand on his head, kissed the palm.

“You’ll be okay, I got you-” Fuck, he was crying. 

“Them, Charon don’t let them-” The words came in one wet gasp. 

“I won’t”. He promised.

“I have you”. He gathered her up in his arms, held her like he knew she liked, prayed she felt warm, because to him she felt freezing. He looked her in the eye, they were getting unfocused and distant now. “I love you” he spoke quietly, placed light kisses to her face, repeated it all for her in soft whispers till he felt her last scraping breath. 

He was screaming, he realized, when he came to sobbing over her body. 

He would bury her, he decided. Then, he had one final order to carry out.

Fawks: 

Attitude

He had suggested FEV before. Just once. Lone shot it down of course, wanting to be certain of maintaining her intellect. He couldn’t blame her. 

He was always hyper aware of how killable she was, from the moment she let him out. He ran into a lot of radiation explicitly because he knew she would not survive that much radiation. He realized she was a little less killable than he thought when she strolled out of the enclave, the entire faction in ruins, because, apparently to hear her tell it, of her being able to convince the computer that ran the place to blow everything up. 

She proved herself highly intelligent, but he often questioned her sanity considering some of the undertakings she willingly endured. When he would voice his objections on basis of safety, she would tell him she could handle it herself if he didn’t want to go. Of course he always went. 

He thought she was beautiful, and kind, and accepting. He fought down any and all romantic feelings toward her, relishing instead in being able to help keep her safe and in action throughout all her suicidal attempts at making the wasteland a better place to live. He was always legitimately shocked at her frequent success, and well as some of the situations she managed to just walk out of with nary a scratch. 

He was furious when she just walked into the water purifier the second she realized the stakes. Didn’t even ask him to help, just walked in and wobbled her way through typing in the code. He thought she died. Stayed by her bedside terrified she wouldn’t wake up. Felt joy like he couldn’t remember in ages when she did wake up. 

Unfortunately for him Lone was curious, mischievous at the best of times, shameless at the worst. She pulled a confession out of him one dark night holed up against a rad storm, himself two bottles of vodka deep (He was a lightweight for a supermutant). Herself quite tipsy, she proceeded to kiss the breath right out his lungs. The next day, she didn’t regret it, and suddenly he had what he thought impossible for him: Love. 

His desire to aid and protect her grew tenfold, and they got into a lot of fights about Lone walking into dangerous situations without him going first. He knew better than to tell her not to do something when she put her mind to it, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try and keep her safe. 

In the moment

“I don’t like the look of the rest of this compound” Fawks spoke warily, eyeing the change in wall material. 

“It could mean we’re closer to the G.E.C.K.” Lone chimed in from his side. 

“That could also mean we’re a lot closer to a lot of radiation. We need to be careful.” Fawks warned, gun ready for anything to pop out and attack. 

“Look!” Lone grabbed a finger, the closest she could get to holding his hand, and dragged him ahead to a large section of glass paneling looking down into a chamber with a small plate atop a pillar, with a great metal needle hanging from the ceiling above it. “It must be the G.E.C.K.!” She spoke excitedly, hands and nose pressed against the glass. “Where do you think the controls would be?” Lone looked down into the chamber. 

“I’m checking it out” Fawks spoke, opening the door and stepping into the larger chamber. When he looked behind him, he was exasperated to see Lone had followed behind him. He sighed, then looked to the wall below the glass panel. “Well, we found the controls”. 

“Perfect! The note said that once it's activated, it will start purging radiation from the surrounding wasteland and make the ground fertile. All we gotta do is figure out how to activate it.” Lone wandered to the panel, ran her hands over the buttons. “It’s a two person switch, or one really long person switch”. Lone announced, looking at the glass-enclosed dials on either end of the panel. “Lucky you got backup”. Lone looked at Fawks and winked, and he could only sigh. 

“On the count of three?” He opened his box, placed his hand on the dial, watching Lone do the same.” “One..Two..Three!” The machine was deafening when it turned on, sent a blast of air through the room.

“Fawks?” He didn’t even register her geiger counter going off till he realized she had crumbled to the ground. “Fawks?” He gathered her up in his arms, checked her pip-boy ignoring the shake in her limbs. Started sweating when he saw the geiger counter couldn’t go any higher. He couldn’t look her in the eye, couldn’t stop. He had to get her out of here now.

He ran for the door. It was locked, no handle and it was keypad operated. He kicked at the door, then the keypad, then what was left of the keypad, until finally the door opened. He ran up the hallway, up up up, to another door. Locked from the other side. Her geiger counter was still buzzing, quieting only slightly in comparison to the G.E.C.K. chamber. That was the door they came in, the only door that lead in and the only door out. He fell to his knees, started digging through the packs for radaway and rad-x. Placed a delirious Lone against the door, the farthest point from radiation and the quietest her counter could get. Ignored her groans when he held her arm still to roll up the sleeve and insert the needle. She seemed to come to, just a little bit. 

“Fawks?” She was looking up aimlessly. He held her much smaller hand in his. 

“I’m here love, I got you.” He grabbed some rad-x and purified water. “I need you to take this”. Lone scrunched up their face and groaned, but let him help them sit up, take the pills and then the water. Their eyes rolled down to their geiger counter. 

“I guess the door is locked?” Lone looked very tired. 

“Yes” he sighed. 

“Fawks, if I don’t-”

“You’re gonna make it Lone” He leaned forward, his head against the door, body arching over Lone. What he wouldn’t give to put those few inches of lead between there and Lone. 

“If I don’t” They spoke with a determination. “Don’t let the brotherhood horde this shit, yeah?” She smiled up at him, but her eyes didn’t seem to focus. 

“I’ll make sure” He promised. He was crying, he knew. 

“Hold me?” Her voice was so quiet. 

“Of course love”. He gathered her in his arms. Tried not to sob more when her geiger counter started getting louder. He started talking to her, trying to keep her awake, keep her responsive, but she seemed to zone in and out. 

He changed her radaway the second it was used up. He knew the side effects would be killer if she made it. If she made it. Did start sobbing when she yelped, pulled back at the feeling of the needle leaving her skin. She seemed confused. 

“Lone, its Fawks, I’m right here. This is gonna hurt but you’ll be okay” She nodded slowly, he exposed the needle on the new radaway, slid it into her skin right where the last had been, held her arm still for it because she was crying and shaking. He just held her arm still and held her. He checked repeatedly if he could get the door to open, praying it was just a time lock, but it held fast. She cried more when he turned away to check, and he really just wanted to hold her. 

He resolved to hold her, kiss her and igraine the smell of her hair into his memory. He kept trying to talk to her, got some sporadic half logical replies during the second bag of radaway. The geiger counter got louder, and they may as well have been back in the larger room. The third bag of radaway she was only able to sporadically say his name. He pressed kisses to her forehead, her brow, her nose her cheeks her lips her chin. Told her he loved her, over and over again. Halfway through the fourth bag, she stopped responding, and by the end of it her eyes had glazed over. He knew she was gone. He thought he was gonna lose his mind. 

Two weeks later, the door opened. The world he stepped out into was green.

I think I mighta spelled fawks wrong but he can eat my a$$ about it.

[callmewisteria]

Something Complicated (At The Precipice Of Something New Chapter XLII)

Completely furious, the Institute Directorate confront the Director and his father about what they've learnt of Dr. Virgil and a particular woman from Vault 111? The General of the Minutemen and detective Nick Valentine discuss and consider Kasumi's request they investigate Dima and find what his memories could be hiding? Returning to Sanctuary Hills, Nora struggles with reconciling the past and present? In her new body, Curie, Amari, and Annette prepare for a new synth to come through the Memory Den? Paladin Danse, Scribe Haylen, and Knight Rhys continue tracking the Mechanist?

Happy one year to At The Precipice Of Something New! This is one of my favourite fics to write, and I'm proud of all I've done so far! Read it on AO3, ff.net, and/or wattpad!!!

[velvet-verve]

MASTER FIC LIST

{ in alphabetical order cause i'm sexy like that }

pssst. green means active!

Blue Moon

deacon x male sole survivor

Deacon is a man who has lived through so many ends of the world. At least a handful, surely. He's gotten used to anticipating them. Timing them out, even. Then, he meets a man who has lived through a couple of atom bombs, and he feels an itch to check his watch. And it takes that man disappearing in a sci-fi bug zapper for shit to actually start to happen between the two of them. What a couple of stubborn pricks.

Cat Scratch Fever

butch deloria x female lone wanderer

Butch Deloria had always had bum luck. A little troubled, a little snarky, and quite possibly doomed. Everybody knew it. Janie Weissman had always been a little out there. A little temperamental, a little odd, and quite possibly suffering from a minor chemical imbalance. Everybody knew that, too. What the people of Vault 101 don't know, however, is that's just the shavings off the top of a very large iceberg. In a Vault that seems to shrink with every passing year, two restless spirits find they're more similar than they ever gave each other credit for. But will that newfound connection, the one that made underground life bearable, survive when a crack is found in the thick walls of Vault 101?

Dogfight; Mk II

deacon x female sole survivor

A woman out of time. A man out of options. And their story told out of order. Deacon has lots of rules. Rules, not to live by, but simply to stay alive by. Rule Number Twenty-Six: Never break character. Rule Number Five: No leather pants in the summertime. Rule Number Nineteen: If it's gone green, you must intervene. Rule Number Two: Never underestimate the enemy. And finally, Rule Number One. Never let your guard down. But in the end, aren't all rules doomed to be broken? It's ironic, really. All that pining over Vault 111, and when the Morningstar emerges, she seems intent on burning herself out.

Fugue State

rj maccready x sole survivor

Miriam Braxster. That's what it said on her driver's license. That's how conductors introduced her. It's a name she'd hoped one day would be printed on a brass plaque on a door in some prestigious conservatory. And it's what it said on the very top of sheet music the world didn't even get to listen to before it destroyed itself. Mac's pretty sure the only place Robert Joseph MacCready has ever been written down is on the note tucked into the basket his parents left him in.

Strange Fruit

noir! rj maccready x sole survivor

Boston. 2080. A city with as many shady secrets as it can hold, and maybe even a few more. The wealth gap keeps widening, crime isn't cleaning itself up anytime soon, and dark conspiracies run through banned papers in underground speakeasies. As if the threat of the Chinese atom bomb isn't enough. A stray comes in from the rain, and R.J. MacCready is sucked into a twisting, sordid mystery that sinks to the depths of Boston's most well kept secrets, all centered around the last girl you'd ever expect to have so many monsters in her closet. But, as Nick Valentine likes to say, one should always expect the unexpected. And looks can be very, very deceiving.

Solace, Part I: Ask Me No Questions, I'll Tell You No Lies

deacon x female sole survivor

Two souls marred by grief. She is a public figure. To the Commonwealth; a symbol of freedom, of resistance and strength. A prewar savior. An image He painted. He is a faceless, nameless man. A spy for an underground militant organization hanging on by a thread. A shadow of his former self. Their connection cannot be denied, even as subterfuge and paranoia runs rampant. They both have enough secrets to drown in. And they're struggling not to fall for each other.

Unobtainium

rj maccready x female sole survivor

It's often been said that R.J. MacCready has a bad attitude. He owns it. He flaunts it, at times. But when the Minutemen's growing influence leads to an encounter with General Preston Garvey himself, he's introduced to a woman who might give him a run for his money. Because Sabrina Minor, Doctor Sabrina Minor that is, is also famous for a very bad attitude. She's brilliant, and she's a pain in the ass. And unfortunately, she's about to become MacCready's problem.

[nuka-cola-grape]

Intro Post

Hey there! Feel free to call me either Grape or Icy. Over 18, she/they pronouns. Will shoot bigots on sight.

Directory Thing

OC Tags:

Alder Manning/Vault Dweller | Claire Manning/Chosen One | Clove Mays/Lone Wanderer | Nicole DuBois/Courier | Belle Carrol/Sole Survivor | Luce/Overboss | Lille Carroll/76 Resident/Belle’s Sister

Ship Tags:

AmaClove (Clove Mays x Amata Almodovar) | NickBelle (Belle Carroll x Nick Valentine)

Game Tags:

Fallout | Fallout 2 | Fallout 3 | Fallout: New Vegas | Fallout 4 | Fallout 76 | Fallout Vibes

AU/Fic Tags:

Clove Seeds and May Blossoms

111 Fluke | Read it here!

[tobstep]

*UHHH IM NOT FAMILIAR WITH TUMBLR AT ALL*

Just a lil about me:

I'm TJ - or Toby - he/him only please!

I'm a huge Fallout fan, my favourite games being Fo3 and FoNV. I've been a fan since 2019 (?) - Fo76 was indeed my first Fallout game lol. I've played Fo3, FoNV, Fo4, and Fo76)

I'm more active on Instagram (@tjsfalloutism / @nashierthanu), but I also use twitter (@nashiertob)

I'll probably post oc related stuff - at the moment I'm hyperfixated on my fallout ocs (who are just my lone wanderer and courier six)

Huge fan of the NCR unfortunately, but generally a BOS fan - however I'm not fond of West BOS. I'm pretty chill with the rest of the factions, but I am a Legion, Enclave and Fiends hater. Big fan of Arcade, Ed-e, Nick Valentine, and Paladin Cross - and of course Dogmeat and Rex <3

Other than Fallout, I'm a pretty big Saw 2004 fan, along with Pyrocynical.

I'm on the aroace spectrum, might be bi, or gay, idrc i have a job rn :(

I'm 17, so nsfw dni.

**DNI PROSHIPPERS/NEUTRALS**

Basic dni from here; e.g Homo/trans/xenophobic, racist, zionist, antisemitic etc.

IM TOO AWKWARD TO ASK TO BE MOOTS BUT I'M OKAY IF YOU ASK! Especially you fw lw x courier

[nukacoola]

Gahhh I hate what I’m writing rn someone send me prompts or ideas for

Romantic or Sexual

Deacon/Sole

Danse/Sole

Boone/Six

Charon/Lone

Hancock/Sole

or Platonic

Nick & Sole

Hancock & Sole

Deacon & Desdemona

Preferably something realistic to canon not like super fluffy

[jt-artsandfics]

Here's my main 4 fallout charcaters since I've done a re draw of them so I hope you enjoy

~~~~~~

Tibyan Coven

Bean the lone wanderer

Game: fallout 3, but makes an appearance in both NV and 4

Age: 19, 23 and 29

Alliance: brotherhood of steel before once again becoming the lone wanderer.

Sexuality: Gay

Romance: Charon

weapon of choice: is Anti-materiel rifle

Quick history: Bean had a lot of medical skill due to his father teaching him. Due to his father leaving the vault he decided he needed to find him, he meets charon while in the underworld and in turn pays 2000 caps for his contract to free him. All tho it doesnt all go according to plan. along the way he find himself in the company of his childhood bully, a dog he saved from raiders and a 200 year old ghoul who he gains feeling for.

Ceridwen Doks

Courier Six

Game: fallout New Vegas, makes an appearance in fallout 4

Age: 26, 32

Alliance: NCR turned wild card

Sexuality: pansexual

Romance: Craig Boone, Joshua Graham

Wrapon of choice: ak 47, mine's and bombs

Quick history: six after taking a bullet to the head is now on a revenge mission for the man who has taken everything from them. Six meets Boone along the way and gains a close bond with him until the legion kill the sniper. After this event Six is left with a heavy heart and revenge that has left them hollow, Six eventually goes with the happy trials caravan when they meet Joshua, Six forms a bond with him.

Tika Watson

Sole survivor

Game: fallout 4

Age: 30, 240

Sexuality: Bisexual

Alliance: Rail road/ minutemen

Romance: Nate Watson, Nick Valentine

Weapon of choice: shot gun, pistols and plasma rifle.

Quick history: Tika is celebrity akin to Marilyn Monroe, she has played in Grognak the Barbarian,the silver shroud and is the original face of Nuka cola. From audio plays, movies and adds for company's she eventually has time off from the big screen to have her son.

After the bombs hit she loses everything and the only thing she is striving for is to find her son and get revenge on the man who killed her husband. Tika meets Nick by accident while snooping around abandoned vaults with dogmeat, Nick Valentine become a permanent residency in her life as she becomes his partner in helping stop crime and he helps her find her son, both of them pass around jokes and references that only each other get.

Alexander Hamilton

General of the Minutemen

Game:fallout 4 but has an appearance in fallout 3.

Age: 33, 43

Sexuality: pansexual

Alliance: Minutemen

Romance: John hancock

Weapon of choice: laser Weapons of all kinds

Quick history: Alexander is first seen in fallout 3 when he was still human he is trying to make his way from Megaton to Diamond City. He had a quick convosation with the lone wanderer before he isn't seen until 10 years later. In fallout 4 he has transformed into a glowing Ghoul after getting lost at the glowing sea. When the sole survivor meets him, Alexander has found his way to Nuka cola world where he mornes the death of Oswald. He goes with Tika back to Sanctuary where he helps around as much as possible before being appointed General of the Minutemen by both Tika and Preston. This is how he eventually ends up meeting hancock.

[ariasfandom]

Doing Fallout Headcanons and reacts!

I’m opening headcanons for Fallout characters since I think I did the Pedro characters pretty well, and most of the fallout headcanon/react blogs are either dead, on life support, or moved on from the content or fandom.

Please note that these are X Reader

I’m doing a few characters for now, and will expand further as this goes on.

Currently open for:

John Hancock

Danse

MacCready

Charon

Nick Valentine

Veronica

Piper

[dalishkadan]

managed to squeak out this update before it hit over a month!

[chaosintheavenue]

Fallout Opinion Survey- Results!

Thank you so much to all those who took part! We had 421 usable responses in total :D

One quick note- the nature of the data this time around means that most of the auto-generated charts are usable as they are, which does mean this post will be very image-heavy. I’d be very appreciative if someone who knows how to write image descriptions for charts could add them on!

Without further ado, let’s get into the results...

The Basics:

Favourite DLC:

Dead Money- 115 (...nice) Old World Blues- 94 Far Harbor- 76 Lonesome Road- 53 Nuka World- 27 Point Lookout- 17 Honest Hearts- 11 The Pitt- 9 Mothership Zeta- 7 Automatron- 3 Operation Anchorage- 3 Broken Steel- 2 Vault-Tec Workshop- 1

Favourite faction:

Followers of the Apocalypse- 146 Railroad- 62 Minutemen- 45 NCR- 23 Kings- 22 Brotherhood of Steel (all chapters combined)- 20 Yes Man/Wildcard Courier- 18 Great Khans- 14 Enclave- 10 Caesar's Legion- 8 Raiders (76, Nuka World and general combined)- 8 Institute- 6 Chairmen- 5 Unity- 4 Atom Cats- 3 Mr House- 3 Boomers- 3 Freeside- 2 Responders- 2 Children of Atom- 2 Ghoul settlements in general- 2 Hubologists- 2 Tunnel Snakes- 2 And the list of those with one vote each: The Family, Think Tank, Reaver Movement, Ciphers, Broken Hills, Powder Gangers, Reilly's Rangers, Acadia, Goodneighbor, Underworld, White Glove Society, Omertas, Jacobstown, post-Legion Ulysses, Cult of the Mothman, 80s, and talking Deathclaws from Fallout 2

Favourite companion:

Arcade Gannon- 75 Nick Valentine- 53 Hancock- 39 Veronica- 38 Deacon- 30 ED-E- 26 Raul- 23 Boone- 22 MacCready- 13 Christine Royce- 12 Dogmeat (all)- 11 Fawkes- 10 Preston Garvey- 10 Charon- 9 Rex- 9 Butch Deloria- 8 Goris- 8 Cait- 7 Danse- 7 Piper- 7 Lily- 6 Marcus- 6 Rose of Sharon Cassidy- 6 Curie- 5 Porter Gage- 4 Dean Domino- 4 X6-88- 3 Strong- 3 Ulysses- 3 RL-3- 3 Ian- 2 Dog/God- 2 Codsworth- 2 Joshua Graham- 2 Old Longfellow- 2 Lenny- 2 Ada- 2 And the 'list of ones': Tycho, Katja, Follows-Chalk, Sydney

-

The Lore:

(other titles specifically mentioned in the final question: Metro and Doom)

Characters headcanoned as synths: The Sole Survivor (by far the most common theory), Sturges, Deacon, Preston Garvey, the Lone Wanderer in Broken Steel, James/Dad, Dogmeat, Three Dog, Parker Quinn, Charon, Courier Six, Tinker Tom, Zeke, Arthur Maxson, Father/older Shaun, Piper, Travis Miles, Mysterious Stranger, Caesar ('cause funny'), Joshua Graham, most Children of Atom, Desdemona, Myrna, Marcy Long, Mr Burke, Vault 76 Overseer, Trashcan Carla, Cricket, many BoS and Enclave members, Reaver Movement members, Redeye, Moira Brown, Dr Zimmer, Ranger Ghost, most birds, Arcade Gannon, Elijah, Lizzie Wyatt, Kellogg, Mama Murphy, Nat Wright, and Sierra Petrovita

(please note I'm not all that familiar with Fallout 4 lore, if any of the FO4 peeps here are canon synths then I didn't know about it lol)

Fan theories/headcanons from the final question that cropped up repeatedly (in approximate order of popularity):

Vault-Tec started the Great War

Alien involvement with the pre-war US government and/or the Great War

Horses are still around

Talking Deathclaws are still around

Occult/eldritch influence (e.g. the Dunwich building) is widespread

Charon is a survivor of Vault 92

Deacon is a founder of the Railroad and his 'real' backstory was another lie

Veronica and Christine reunite

Sarah Lyons is alive

Gen 3 synths and ghouls still need to eat, drink, sleep and so on

Ghouls only turn feral in specific circumstances (suggestions include prolonged isolation and relying too heavily on radiation instead of food as a source of energy) and it is not inevitable

International travel and immigration continues

Danse and Harkness were sent to the Capital Wasteland by the Railroad together

X person is actually multiple people- suggested for Deacon, Legate Lanius and Vulpes Inculta

The US is the either the only place that was nuked or the only place that hasn't rebuilt and recovered, and the rest of the world is just ignoring them and carrying on as normal

Cass is the Chosen One's daughter

Mama Murphy is the Chosen One

No-Bark Noonan is the Chosen One (lots of Chosen One theories popping up lol)

All subsequent Dogmeats in the series are named after the legend of the original Dogmeat

Father is not really Shaun

MacCready is lying about Duncan being ill (or one person even suggested Duncan existing)

Yes Man overthrows the Courier after being upgraded

The real Lone Wanderer died at the end of the vanilla game even if Broken Steel is installed, and the Broken Steel LW is a synth

Deacon once worked for the Institute

Deacon deliberately leads people to theorise that he is the Lone Wanderer to throw them off

Deacon is or was once a ghoul (also plenty of Deacon theories)

The Mysterious Stranger is a time traveller who protects the various PCs to maintain the timeline

Appalachia was turned into a barren wasteland by the nuclear trigger-happiness of the Vault 76 Dwellers (possibly interesting aside: my brother, who buys into this one, has gone as far as to theorise that the original Great War used very low-yield weapons and wasn't that severe on the environmental level (as far as literal nuclear war goes, that is), and it was the Vault 76ers nuking the hell out of Appalachia that triggered a continent-wide nuclear winter and sent the ecology of the wasteland into the state it's in in all subsequent games)

Glory is not a synth

The (in-game) reason for lore clashes and retcons is that the plot of each game is a retelling  of the story as it's passed around in the wasteland, so some details have been embellished or mixed up

I’ll be coming back to the theories from the final question at some point, but aside from that, that's a wrap! There isn't really much potential for me to play around with the data here like with the OC surveys, so this was more just me presenting the data as it came in without commentary. Still, I hope this is somehow interesting/insightful!

[full-moon-phoenix]

Okay, I love Nick Valentine x Reader stuff as much as the next person, but why does the Reader always have to be the Sole Survivor? Can't we be just another person? Or, hell, make us the Courier or the Lone Wanderer for a change. Just to switch things up.

[callmewisteria]

Something Unlikely (At The Precipice Of Something New Chapter X)

Nora, Cait, and Piper find Nick Valentine? The Minutemen look over and begin to plan their upcoming work for the Commonwealth? The Lone Wanderer learns the true nature of the connexion between Vault 101 and Covenant alongside Deacon and Dan? Jacq Spencer and Quentin Filmore spy on Father and members of the Directorate? MacCready finally gets his talk with Hancock after getting information on Bobbi for him?

Lots in this chapter!!! Read it on AO3, ff.net, and/or wattpad!!!

[velvet-verve]

As my loyal subjects (that's you, silly) wait patiently for the next and awesomest chapter of Fugue State yet, lemme tell you what's comin up. Here's the marquee for 2021!

✨COMING SOON:✨

Butch Deloria x Female Lone Wanderer Fic

Jane Mcallister goes from a seemingly shy violet with a bit of an anger issue to one of the coolest motherfuckers the capital's ever seen the minute she steps outside the vault. She has a penchant for crushing bad guy skulls with her trusty baseball bat, and yeah, Butch might find himself a little out of his depth once his lifelong crush gets herself into more trouble than she can handle.

This takes place in the same universe as Fugue State, and little Maccready plays a large role in this one too. It's both a prequel to Fugue State, and a very fun story on its own. I just really can't decide if I wanna start sharing it with you now or wait until Midge and Mac make their way to the capital and actually meet Butch and Jane. Is it more fun to already know where they end up, or to follow both stories simultaneously??? Hmmm...decisions decisions.

Some Deacon and Midge snippets!

I realized as I was writing Fugue State that there's tons and tons of references to Deacon and Midge's little adventures, and while a lot of them are very fun to leave totally unexplained, they're chaotic energy when paired together is really fun to write, and I just think you guys would enjoy reading some of their adventures at different places throughout Midge's story, such as...this first time Midge beats Deacon in a game of chess, the disastrous escapade at trinity tower, meeting for the first time in Diamond City, and possibly the several times Glory tries to score and Midge is totally and completely oblivious. I'm thinking of making this a series of one-shots.

^Midge, Deacon and Nick Valentine is planned to be a very common trio in this series, btw.^

And As For Fugue State...

The tentative plan for Fugue State is to make it the first part of a three part series. Fugue State is obviously part one, part two will be the adventures after the fall of the Institute, and I'm thinking about part three being placed about five years after that?

I think you guys are gonna really dig it. I've got some great plans for Midge and Mac. <3

P.S. This will make more sense after this upcoming chapter of Fugue State, but I may or may not have a very smutty one-shot including Deacon and a certain mystery man...but you didn't hear it from me.

[athingthatwantsvirginia]

Out of Nora Ephron

PART SEVENTEEN OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: mentions of parent death and family issues, one mention of vomit, we’ve made it to the swan episode my dudes, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 5.2K

Summary: In which Jess gets beaked in the eye and miscommunications follow.

Despite the chilly breeze, red blossoms lined the streets of Stars Hollow. Town square was fragrant and sweet, and Ella would have been lying if she said it didn’t lift her spirits. Though she wasn’t one to go all out for holidays, she wore heart-shaped earrings and a pinkish color on her lips. Valentine’s was not especially important in Stars Hollow, considering how many other times per year there was a celebration, but it received an adequate amount of fanfare. Her skin was perfumed with a gardenia spray her aunt had given her, and there was a slight skip in her step. It made her feel almost silly, to be excited for such a holiday. And she knew Jess wouldn’t care about it. She wasn’t expecting anything. But it was nice to for once not be lonely on Valentine’s.

She waltzed into the diner, trying to hide the smile which played on her lips. Miss Patty was seated at the table by the door, and called to Ella before she even had a chance to hang up her coat and bag. Glancing behind the counter, she found both Luke and Jess to be working reasonably well together, and decided they could spend a couple more minutes without her help. After school, she’d stayed behind to help her art teacher hang some of her works for the open gallery they were having on Friday night. Late was late, no matter by how long. And she’d told Jess to explain it to Luke. The diner was rarely busy at three in the afternoon on a Wednesday anyway. She wasn’t sweating it as she might have in the past.

“Hi, Patty,” she said, leaning down to let the woman kiss her cheek. Ella didn’t even mind the red kiss-mark she knew would be standing out on her freckled skin. Fiddling with her necklace, she sat down across from Miss Patty.

Patty smiled widely at the girl. “Hello, darling, how are you? How’s that man of yours?”

Blushing, Ella stole a glance at Jess, who was ringing up a customer. She wanted to roll her eyes at herself. “Fine. Everything’s fine. What about you? You’ve gotta have some fish on a hook for tonight? That’s what my grandma used to say.”

“You truly learned from the best,” Patty laughed, gesturing with her arm, draped in dark red fabric. “Oh, I do. José and I have some reservations. And then I’ll have him for dessert.”

Hiding her face in her hands, Ella chuckled. If they were in the dance studio, she wouldn’t have felt so naked. But the diner? There was some strange instinct in her to keep a semblance of professionalism, even though most of the townspeople had bore witness to her vomiting down her front at the summer carnival when she was three. Old habits die hard.

Raising her head to Miss Patty again, she wished her cheeks would cool. “Well, I hope you have a nice night. But, I’m off to sweep those chimneys now. Just let me know if you need me to fill in at all for the spring recitals.”

Patty nodded, offering the girl one last smile, and Ella made to leave. “You make sure Jess treats you tonight. All the keepers do.”

Saying nothing else, Ella smiled back and was still giggling when she went behind the counter. Tying her apron around her hips, she greeted Luke and Jess with a nod of her head. Immediately, Luke furrowed his brows at her.

“What’s got you so happy?” he asked.

She snorted a laugh. “I don’t know. What’s with your Fred Mertz impression?”

“Who?” Luke looked to her blankly.

“I Love Lucy,” Jess chimed in, refilling mugs of coffee.

Ella smirked at Jess, knowing about his odd love of old black-and-white TV. Then, she turned back to her boss. “Don’t you have a lady friend? I figured you’d be at least a little more chipper.”

Luke grimaced. “Don’t call Nicole my lady friend.”

She raised her hands in mock surrender. “Fine. White flag. Continue with the curmudgeonry.”

Only rolling his eyes, Luke stepped around her to go take some orders. Sometimes he wondered how he didn’t see the relationship between Ella and his nephew brewing earlier. When Ella came back out from the back, her hands freshly washed, Jess laced an arm around her waist and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. Then, he licked his thumb and wiped Miss Patty’s red lipstick off her cheek.

Ella scrunched up her nose and groaned playfully. “More Jess spit.”

Jess smirked. “Would you rather Luke ream you for not looking work-appropriate?”

Scoffing, she turned and leaned back against the counter so she could face him. “Wow, my hero,” she deadpanned.

“I got you something,” he said, his smile turning more genuine.

“For a Hallmark holiday?” she asked, confusion painting her face, though a smirk threatened to cross her lips.

He rolled his eyes. “You’d be surprised, Daria. The lake after work?”

“You have no concept of weather. It’s gonna be freezing,” she said.

“I like to live dangerously. Haven’t you heard?”

“Whatever, James Dean. Sounds like a plan. I got you something too.”

.   .   .

Sitting cross-legged, Ella shivered. She certainly appreciated the poetic return to the spot where they’d decided to try going out, but it was still a Connecticut February. Their breath came out in whitish clouds. Icy breezes blew by them, smelling clean and fresh and cold. She heard geese fly overhead, and almost laughed. Shouldn’t they be south? The light had long since waned to blue darkness, but the moonlight reflected off the water and onto their faces. Ella’s mind wandered to the schools of fish below, the imagined mermaids. The taste of apple pastries, from a basket made by Miss Patty, filled her mouth, and smiled. Jess’s voice brought her back to her current reality, when they sat shoulder-to-shoulder, fingers entwined.

“Where’d you go, Stevens?” he asked, watching her blink the fantasy from her eyes.

Clearing her throat, she looked over at him and sniffed. “The past. Back when we weren’t developing hypothermia.”

He rolled his eyes. “What a talent for exaggeration.”

She snorted a laugh, then reached over to rummage through her shoulder bag. “Alright, jackass, let’s end the suspense, shall we?”

Smirking, he watched as she turned back around, a book in her hands. It was hardly a surprise, but his expression turned fond as he took it from her. He recognized the cover: Desolation Angels by Jack Kerouac.

“I can’t believe you don’t have this one,” she said, gesturing to the book. “Given that your Jack Kerouac fetish pretty much equals my Stevie Nicks fetish. I think you should look inside.”

“Oh, should I?” he teased, eyebrows raised.

“I have a hunch that you should.”

Chuckling, he opened up the cover, and found a chunk of her messy cursive, dark ink against the weathered yellow page.

Something else for my James Dean to sulk with.

And below, he found a few poems, which he recognized as Dickinson from the many long dashes. He furrowed his brows slightly, and tilted his head at her in askance.

“From Final Harvest. They’re the ones you put notes beside, conceding that I was right about Emily Dickinson,” she explained, smile wide.

Jess scoffed. “A gentle reminder of your superior tastes?”

She shook her head. “No, just the ones that make me think of you now.”

His heart started to beat faster against his ribs, and he swallowed down the feelings which rose in his throat. Before she could notice his scarlet blush in the dim light, he put a hand to her cheek and kissed her softly.

“Thank you,” he whispered when he pulled away.

“You’re welcome, Jess,” she replied, tucking a strand of hair which had fallen from her low bun behind her ear. A tiny smile on her face, she fiddled with one of her heart earrings.

He cleared his throat in the comfortable silence, reaching a hand in the inside pocket of his jacket. Averting his gaze, he handed her a modest set of charcoals, bought from the arts store three days earlier. In spite of himself, he felt nerves build up within him. He didn’t see his gift standing up to hers at all.

A wide grin blossomed on her face, taking them from him gently, as though they were fragile. “Jess, this is fucking awesome! I’ve never had charcoals before!”

He shrugged humbly, a small smirk on his face. “I just figured...those might smudge a little better than your regular pencils. Or...not smudge? Shade? I don’t really know the names but-”

Placing a cold hand on the back of his neck, she effectively cut him off. She bit back a laugh; it was still rare to see him flustered. “Jess. I love them. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Kissing, they smiled against each other’s lips, and pulled away laughing.

Ella smiled down at the charcoals again. “I can make my drawings even scarier now.”

“That’s the goal, huh?” he asked.

“Always.”

“Will I get to see some horror movie stuff at the gallery walk on Friday or did the school censor you?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No, they let me have my artistic freedom.”

“Good. I can’t wait to see.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Mariano.”

“Too late,” he smirked, kissing her again. Just as the kiss deepened, a shiver rolled through her and she pulled away, eager to make out in the comfort of her own bedroom.

“C’mon, let’s go someplace above freezing. Look at us, right out of a Nora Ephron movie,” Ella teased as she stood up, holding a hand out to him.

He rolled his eyes, scoffing self-consciously as he grabbed her hand. “I never should’ve let that slip.”

“Can’t turn back now, Mariano.”

.   .   .

The key on her necklace was cold against her flushed skin. Fluorescent lights flickered above her, as she watched family and friends crowded around the works in the hallway. All of a sudden, she wished she could be serving coffee at the diner, comfortable in her apron. Instead, she stood before three of her paintings, and two of her drawings. They weren’t anything to write home about, and she was acutely aware of it. Her palms were sweating, and she was lost in her own thoughts when the art teacher, Ms. Menken, came up next to her. She was a tall, kind woman with black spiral curls and large brown eyes. Ella had been in her class all four years of high school, sometimes ate lunch in her room, and spent every spare moment she had working on her projects. It was her hiding place, her safe space, during school hours. She was never as comfortable at school as she was in the diner, not even in the art room, but it was a haven of sorts.

“Have they shown up yet?” Ms. Menken asked, dressed in all paisley and jewel tones. She looked like she would fit in much better in San Francisco.

Ella shook her head, leaning back against the white cinderblock wall. “No. I mean...my dad and Fiona...who knows? She said she wanted to ‘support me.’ And Adam could probably take it or leave it. My boyfriend should be here soon, though.”

Ms. Menken nodded, a doubtful glint in her eye. “Right. Mr. Mariano.”

Sighing, Ella ran a hand through her hair. “He’s a good person.”

A few more suspicious words were exchanged before Ms. Menken went on her way, Ella insisting she go mingle with the students whose families had already arrived. Jess was hardly a superstar among the Stars Hollow High faculty and staff, even the cooler members. Again, she stood alone, biting at her nails and looking over her shoulder at the artworks. Her favorite was a painting of a ghost, adorned with hydrangeas. It was the only one she’d wanted to put up, but Ms. Menken had encouraged her to flesh out the display a bit. By her watch’s time, it was half past seven when her father, Fiona, and Adam walked through the big swinging door. She couldn’t hide the look of surprise on her face. The show was set to be over at eight, and there was still no sign of Jess.

He’d seemed so excited to come, promised he’d show by half past six, during his break from the diner. She’d stood. She’d waited for Jess. And soon she felt silly, angry at herself for wanting him to see it. To be proud of her. Ella sighed as her family approached. At least they had come. Maybe they would feel like enough, no matter how much Jess was the only person she truly wanted there.

“Ellie,” her father said, nodding slightly. He pulled her in for a rigid hug, which she reciprocated coldly.

Fiona’s hug was far more affectionate, longer, with an added kiss on the cheek. It made Ella want to grimace, but she managed a smile at the woman, her new stepmother who was always trying so hard. Over the course of the last month, Ella had been attempting to make an effort with her, no matter how unpleasant it was.

Adam had already wandered off down the hall, to take a look at the array of amateur art. He squinted at the abstract pieces through his thick glasses, analytical as ever. With Noah off to get a degree in history, and Ella probably bound for something humble in the humanities, Adam was the only Stevens sibling destined to make any real money. He was the one with the mathematical brain and boundless potential; he could end up as anything from an accountant to a rocket scientist.

“Thanks for coming, guys,” she said, swallowing down the storm of emotions raging on the sight of their arrival.

“We wouldn’t miss it, Ella,” Fiona said, beaming. The woman stepped back to view the paintings and drawings hanging on the wall. Each had her trademark mixture of flora and horror, and Ella could practically see Fiona fighting off her look of appall. She was the kind of woman who never wanted to watch sad movies, never spoke on taboo subjects, never faced a state of balanced reality.

Her father stood quietly, his hands in his pockets, saying nothing. But the look in his eyes was telling. Ella knew it hadn’t been his idea to come. But she thought she saw the tiniest bit of pride on his face. In all her life, she thought she’d never known exactly what her father was thinking. And probably never would.

Five minutes of awkward conversation passed slowly, Ella’s eyes flitting to the door every so often. Eventually, Jess blew in, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans and his gaze trained on the floor. A relieved smile crossed Ella’s face, but it fell instantly when he approached and lifted his head to her. His left eye was bruised deep purples and blues, scabbed at the edges.

“Hi,” he said flatly as he came closer to her, gaze roaming over her work. “Jesus, Stevens, these are...amazing.”

“Young man,” Ella’s father began, dark brows furrowing, “what exactly happened with your face?”

“It looks terrible,” Fiona observed, disgust flashing across her features.

Jess shrugged, nonchalant, and only went back to the art. Had her parents not been there, he would’ve been able to express what he felt. How seeing her paintings, alive with color, and her drawings, dark with the pain she felt, brightened up his shitty day so instantly. But there were too many eyes on him, his tongue tied with sheepishness. And he certainly didn’t want to talk about what had happened to his eye.

Ella huffed out a breath in exasperation, waiting for an answer, but it never came. Her father took a step forward, a face she recognized. And the last thing she wanted was for him to make a scene at the show. Everyone already talked about her dead mother, she didn’t need them to know about her hothead father too. She didn’t care what they thought, but she certainly didn’t want to be the subject of their speculation. Instead, she put herself between her father and her boyfriend. She flashed a plastic smile at her father and Fiona, dragging Jess down the hall and into the art room by the sleeve of his jean jacket.

“An accident at the diner today. Nothing major!” she called, hoping they bought it. “Back in one second!”

Luckily, there was no one else in the art room. Only the eyes of the figures painted across the walls, papers lining every available surface. She pulled him in by the first table, where she usually sat and worked. Dried paint covered all inches of the light, worn wood.

“What the hell?” she demanded, arms crossed over her black floral dress. The one she’d put on special. Still casual enough for school, but dressy nonetheless. And she’d worn her good red lipstick. No matter how nervous she was about showing off her work, she’d still had some sort of foolish excitement swelling inside her.

Jess sighed heavily. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Oh, you don’t?” she asked, eyebrows raised angrily.

He refused to look her in the eye. “No, I don’t. Look, I’ve already had a lousy day-”

“Really? So have I. I’ve been waiting. You said you’d be here by six-thirty,” she interrupted.

Running a hand over his mouth, Jess shook his head softly. “Elle, I’m sorry. Something came up. But can’t I just go back out there? I didn’t get to-”

“No.”

“No?”

“Jess,” she said, dropping her eyes to her boots, “my dad isn’t gonna get off your back with your eye like that. He’s gonna end up screaming, you’ll end up screaming back, and I don’t think either of us wants to give all the other families free dinner theater.”

Jaw set tightly, he crossed his own arms, mirroring her defensive stance. “You want me to go?”

“Unless you tell me what happened.”

“Didn’t realize you needed to know every detail of my day, Nancy Drew,” he snapped.

She shook her head. “Jesus, Jess. That looks like it hurts. Now’s not the time for that Holden Caulfield bullshit. I’m your girlfriend. Just tell me.”

He was silent, eyes narrowed in frustration.

“Fine. Fuck it. Just go,” she yelled, gesturing in annoyance. Her cheeks were flushed red, and a crease formed between her brows. Fire burned in her hazel eyes. “I was waiting for you, Jess.”

And with that, she stormed out the door. Jess stood with his hands in his pockets, face drawn in shame and dejection.

.   .   .

Instead of biting her thumbnail, an attempt to ward off old habits, she chewed at the eraser of her pencil. Jess was on dish duty, but there was a lull in the customers around mid-morning and she knew he would reappear in the front soon enough. Saturday was danish day, but they were all gone by ten. Rory and Lorelai had just popped in with armfulls of shopping bags. Ella sketched mindlessly as she made conversation with the two of them, pointedly ignoring most of the business around her. Even Luke, not known for his emotional intelligence, could sense the tension in the air. Her page was covered with vampire bats and women with bites on their necks. She’d caught a midnight showing of The Lost Boys the night before.

“So, Bender’s not talking?” Lorelai asked, commiserating.

Sighing through her nose angrily, Ella nodded. “Apparently, I’m just not worthy of such information from Mr. Hyde.”

“Well, maybe it’s finally time for our Thelma and Louise bit?” Rory offered, sipping from her steaming mug.

Ella tried to smile weakly. “I wish. But I’m working a double today.”

Lorelai faked a gag. “My condolences.”

“Damn the man,” Ella said, shaking her head tiredly.

Soon, Rory and Lorelai were back to their conversation of weekend plans and left with final sympathetic looks at her. Ella went on drawing, but eventually the tip of her pencil broke off with the intensity of her work. Sighing heavily, she tossed the pencil behind her and snapped the sketchbook shut.

“Careful, Mickey Mantle. You’ll take someone’s eye out,” Jess snapped as he came around behind her, grabbing his book and sitting on his stool.

She groaned under her breath. “Shove it, jackass.”

“Eloquent.”

Rolling her eyes, Ella crossed her arms over her chest and turned to face him. “Right back at ya. What a chatty fucking Kathy.”

At that moment, Luke stepped in, having overheard snippets of the interaction warily as he helped a customer check out. His breathing was huffy as he spoke to them, hands on his hips.

“Alright, Ella, on break. Now.”

Chewing on her bottom lip, she unlaced her apron and threw it over the hook in the doorway of the kitchen. “Okay. Fine. Maybe talk some sense into Jake LaMotta, formerly known as your nephew!”

“LaMotta?” Luke asked, but Ella was already donning her coat and bag.

Jess rolled his eyes, not looking up from his book. “Raging Bull.”

Luke muttered something under his breath, then grabbed Jess by the collar and pulled him into the stock room. “Alright, Petey the Dog, when did you get in a fight with Dean?”

.   .   .

Water sloshed against the sides of the boat as Jess and Luke floated along Larson’s Lake. Lying in wait for the swan which had beaked him in the eye a night earlier, Jess held a ladle tight in his hand. The air smelled sickly sweet with the early-blooming flowers. The last couple days had gotten above freezing, and the flowers were making a premature appearance. A cold front would roll in soon enough, and the flora would die all over again. In the back of his mind, Jess thought it would be something Ella would read a poem about, draw a picture of.

“So, how’d Jake react to your eye last night?” Luke asked, breaking the silence.

Jess sighed. “Not great, Doctor Phil.”

“Guess it wasn’t so good before, anyway.”

“She told him some accident happened at the diner. I don’t know.” Jess shrugged, gaze roaming over the greenish water.

Nodding, Luke still didn’t look away from his nephew. “You know shutting her out isn’t gonna help, right?”

Jess said nothing, a scowl twisting his features.

But still, Luke went on. “Keeping things from her is pointless. It’s only gonna drive her away.”

“Didn’t wanna talk.”

Luke frowned at Jess’s flat tone of voice. “Look, when you’re with Ella, it’s all the way. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but she can hold a grudge like it’s her job.”

Snorting bitterly, Jess still didn’t look over.

“With this girl, it’s all or nothing, do or die. Hiding things will get you nowhere,” Luke continued. “And she doesn’t need you. She picked you.”

Jess scoffed in exasperation. “God knows why.”

“She knows. That’s all that matters,” Luke said. “If you really want her, you’ll swallow your pride.”

.   .   .

She had to admit, the charcoals were wonderful, no matter how pissed she was at Jess. Shadowy figures covered the pages of her sketchbook, black smudges littering her small desk. Lavender candles perfumed her air, and she shut out the rest of the world, Lou Reed crooning through the speakers of her record player. Her hair was damp from a shower after her shift, fragrant with shampoo. The rest of the day was only marginally better than the beginning. When she got back from break, Jess hadn’t been there, hadn’t shown up by the time she got let off. Luke wouldn’t say much, but she wasn’t surprised. Though she tried not to let her mind wander into dramatic territory, there was still fear coursing through her. Anything was possible. Maybe Jess would pick up and leave again? It had been their first big disagreement, and though it wasn’t nearly as bad as a car accident, Jess still had a loose canon history. And Ella had a history of being left in the afterboom, not just by Jess.

At first, she thought the branches of the oak tree were blowing up against her window in the late winter wind. But, as the small dinks continued to sound, she sighed, wiped her hands free of the charcoal on a wet washcloth on the desk, and got up to see what it was. It wouldn’t have been the only time a bird had come up and started pecking against the window, begging to come in. She’d only obliged once as a child before learning her lesson. Instead, she found Jess, sullenly mysterious as always as he threw pebbles from the gravel driveway against her window pane.

Biting back a chuckle, she opened the window and leaned out. “Y’know this is a one-story house. Doesn’t quite have the same Shakespearean effect as it would if I lived in an upstairs.”

He shrugged, a weak smirk on his lips. “I tried.”

A long moment passed, a crease between Ella’s brows. Wind whistled past them and she saw Jess hunch his shoulders to shield against it. With a final sigh, she stepped back from the window and called to him. “Alright, Romeo. If you’re coming in, come in.”

Nodding, he hoisted himself up and through the window. She could feel the scar on his hand when he grabbed her own for support.

“You really think I’m a Romeo?” he asked breathlessly, stalling as he shut the window.

She crossed her arms, let a little smile form. “In all reality, you’re a Mercutio, but I’ll give you Romeo tonight for the pebbles on the window bit.”

“Well, I appreciate that.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He sighed heavily, standing near the window with hands in his pockets. Eyebrows raised expectantly and arms crossed, Ella waited.

“Alright, I’ll tell you what happened,” he said, avoiding her gaze, “but only if you promise not to laugh.”

She nodded gravely, confused but not letting it show. “Sure. I promise. Cross my heart.”

Sighing again, he finally looked at her. She could see his bruise had yellowed slightly, but was still mostly just dark and angry. Jess ran a hand over his mouth once before he spoke, hesitant. “I was throwing a football with a buddy and he-”

“Jess, I’m gonna stop you right there,” she said, putting a hand up. “I thought you were gonna tell me the truth?”

“That is the truth!” he insisted, suddenly defensive.

Ella scoffed. “No, it’s not. You’d never play football. I doubt you’ve spent more than two minutes with a football in your hands your whole life. And there’s no one in Stars Hollow you’d throw a football with, and certainly no one who you’d call a ‘buddy.’”

His shoulders sagged in defeat, and he shook his head. He heard Luke’s voice in his head. Swallowing dryly, he rubbed at his mouth again.

“Alright, fine, you know Larson’s dock?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I was walking by there on my way to the art show and...I got attacked by a swan.”

She tilted her head, eyebrows knitting together. “What?”

“It hangs out there, and it saw me walking by, minding my own business and it just...beaked me! Right in the eye!” he exclaimed finally, exasperated, as though choking out the words pained him. Embarrassment crept hotly up his neck and face.

There was a long moment of silence, Ella processing the words in her head. Once, then twice, she opened her mouth to speak. She chewed on her bottom lip. Then, she took a couple slow steps toward him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Initially, he didn’t react. But, soon, his own arms laced around her waist and they held each other in a tight embrace for what felt like several minutes. His words were muffled into her shoulder when he finally spoke, and Ella couldn’t quite make them out.

She pulled away from him, hands placed gently on his shoulders. “What’s that?”

“When you saw my eye, you were the only one who didn’t immediately assume I got in a fight with Dean.” He let his gaze linger on her for a long moment, watching a wide smirk bloom on her face.

Ella shrugged. “Well, when I think Jess Mariano, I’m much more likely to think ‘lover’ than ‘fighter.’”

“You are?”

“I am,” she replied, nodding, a smile still present.

“Hey, you promised no laughing,” he told her pointedly, seeing her amused expression.

“I’m not! I’m smiling. I never promised no smiling.”

He narrowed his eyes playfully but said nothing more.

“Thank you for telling me.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, sheepish once again. “I’m really sorry for being late to the art show. I didn’t know what to do about my eye and I knew your dad might come. And I know you were so excited and I was so excited to see your name up there-”

“It’s okay, honey,” she said, shaking her head to dismiss his worry.

Tension released from his muscles, and a smirk crossed his lips. “You’re the ‘honey’ here, Stevens.”

Again, she shook her head. “Not tonight. This thing of ours is a two-way street.”

Ella brought a hand to the side of his face, careful to avoid the bruising, and he leaned into it. A crease of concern formed between her eyebrows once again.

“Must hurt like hell, Mariano,” she muttered, assessing the injury up close for the first time.

“Yeah,” he sighed, giving a teasing pout.

“Bet I could make it feel better,” she said quietly.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, eyebrows shooting up.

Ella nodded, then brought him closer to place a gingerly kiss on his purpled skin. He could barely feel it, her soft lips light as a feather. Then, she went on to kiss his forehead, his cheeks, his chin, everywhere but his mouth.

“Think you’re missing a spot,” he told her, wicked smirk returning.

“Ah, of course,” she said, then kissed him on the lips deeply.

His hands went to her hips, and she felt herself grow light headed with pleasure, sparks of joy making her entire being buzz. Each time she kissed Jess, a real kiss, she could feel it everywhere. And before meeting him, she’d thought ‘weak in the knees’ was an exaggeration. Not so. A  rustle of activity in the house, voices, a TV turning on in the living room, her brother’s door shutting, brought her back to the present moment. They separated and Jess couldn’t help the look of disappointment on his face. Ella chuckled, then went to tug on her boots.

“To be continued,” she assured him. “For now, let's go to the apartment. Rent some Empire Records perhaps?”

Jess nodded, his heart returning to a normal speed. On the way over, he’d felt nauseous with nerves. The sight of her smile was finally calming his body and his mind down. “Only if you do the dance moves with them.”

She rolled her eyes, picking up her coat from where she’d tossed over the back of her desk chair earlier. “You’re already hurt. And you and I both know my moves could be lethal.”

“I’m willing to risk it.”

[jennystahl]

fallout for 001 & althea x lacroix for 002 >:)

001 | fandom — fallout

favorite character — I had to narrow this down severely and most of the chars I mention below are also faves so I didn’t mention them here... Narrowed list is Gob, Arcade, Doctor 0, Piper o_o

least favorite character — Besides obvious villains or whatever; Wally Mack -_- die bitch. Also Maxson is so mf annoying!! And tbh Three Dog is a bitch for making me do all that shit for him before helping me

favorite ships (canon or non-canon) — Sole Survivor/Nick Valentine, LW/Butch, Courier Six/Swank (he’s a boy toy), Sole Survivor/their spouse!, Sole Survivor/Preston, Chosen One/Lenny (😔)

character I find most attractive — No one plays 76 but Johnny is sexy -_-

character I would marry — Preston... :)

character I would be best friends with — Travis... we can both be the losers of the Wasteland...

a random thought — I hope Fallout 5 is set in New Orleans and if it isn’t (or before 5 ever comes out) I’m going to run a Fallout-D&D game set in New Orleans :)

an unpopular opinion — This isn’t necessarily “unpopular” but everyone needs to play 1 & 2!! You are seriously missing out if you haven’t played the classic Fallouts. Actual unpopular opinion: 76 is good.

my canon otp — Christine/Veronica is the only one lol

my non-canon otp — All the OC ones I listed of course. And my own OCs/their SOs

most badass character — Dr. Li is a badass let’s be real even tho she kinda pissed me off in 4 but that’s irrelevant. Umm Tandi (little village bitch inventing the NCR!!), Meg, the female Sole Survivor (assuming she has the “canon background”), Veronica, Christine, I could keep going but my mind is fried now

pairings I am not a fan of — LW/Charon, mostly LW with anyone who isn’t their age?? I have a lot but they aren’t really popular ships so I won’t say them hfghf

character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another) — DEACON. Don’t get me started... if they had just hinted at the end of his personal questline that he was still lying then it would have been perfect... but instead they have this stupid ass dead wife story... I cannot. I have a whole headcanon backstory for him

favorite friendship — The Lone Wanderer and Butch are so good!! I don’t ship my LW with him at all but I love them being best friends :( enemies to BFFs team where u at... Also LW/Gob!! <3

002 | ship — althea/lacroix

when I started shipping it — On July 12, 2018 I said to my friends “not to be that guy but lacroix hot” and it was downhill from there I think... I first mentioned them to my friends in late August 2018 hdfghf

my thoughts — Many thoughts, head empty

what makes me happy about them — They’re the only two people who can handle each other’s shit (except Althea’s like 3 friends) so good for them!

what makes me sad about them — This is more sad about Althea specifically but since he’s exiled from like everywhere Althea has to also deal with that :/ ride or dies but in the way where it kinda fucks you over cause then you only have who was already by ur side beforehand...

things done in fic that annoys me —

things I look for in fic —

my kinks —

who I’d be comfortable seeing them end up with, if not each other — God I can’t see them being shipped with anyone else... everyone hates Lacroix and Althea hates everyone

my happily ever after for them — They own real estate in New York and live in a swanky apartment building doing evil deeds (producing funds for Broadway shows)