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danses-with-dogmeat · 1 year ago

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Day 3 -- Amata Almodovar

The (nsfw) details for Kinktober, Day 3 are just below the cut!

Minors, please don’t interact.

Hate Sex with Amata x M!Lone

I... got a little carried away on this one, but it's not too aggressive or anything with the hate, it's more hurt/comfort, honestly. And just... the potential for Amata's relationship with Lone is so fun to explore, just... all the feelings. Ugh. Anyway, I hope you like it! <3

Here is the link to the Kinktober 2023 Event List so you can stay up-to-date, or re-visit these works as you please.

Included: Hate Sex, dubious consent (at first), cunnilingus, first time oral sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, breast play, light cumplay, confessions of love.

Words: 4.7k

“Finally, holy shit.” Lone sighed as he sauntered into her quarters.

He’d better have a good reason for wanting to meet so desperately. I swear, I should’ve just–

“Why the hell did it take you so long to let me in?”

He walked around the room like it was his own, coming right up and leaning on Amata’s desk until she was forced to scoot her chair back to maintain any semblance of her own personal space.

The nerve. After what he did to my father, to just have him waltz in here, back in the vault, back into the Overseer’s quarters, like he wasn’t the sole reason I had to step in. The reason it was empty when he abandoned us.

“Amata.” Lone interrupted her thoughts again, leaning close enough that she could hit him, if she wanted to.

She felt her right hand curl into a fist unwittingly in her lap.

“Hello? Madam lost-in-thought? You wanna give me an answer, or what?”

“Like you don’t already know the answer to your own dumb question.” Amata stood, her chair nearly toppling over with her haste to get away from her ex-best friend as she crossed the room back towards the entrance.

“Hey, I have a right to explain myself, don’t you think? After I just saved your ass from a flat-out rebellion?”

She turned to face him with a roll of her eyes as he trailed after her fleeing footsteps.

“Letting a handful of my residents just up and leave doesn’t count as fixing anything. I could’ve done that! I was trying to get them to be reasonable. The only reason,” Amata stepped forward, landing her pointed finger in the center of Lone’s chest as she came face-to-face with him with a snarl, “The only reason I would’ve ever wanted you back here was to tell them how fucking crazy it is to want to leave this place. But I can’t even count on you for that.”

With another searing look, she turned away from him again, sweeping back to her desk where the files on each resident who’d followed Butch’s lead– Lone’s lead to leave the only true home they’ll ever know, laid strewn across it. She closed her eyes at the sight of their names, all people she’d lost, she’d failed, as their Overseer.

“No." Amata continued, "You must belong out there. The savage, cutthroat, awful, unforgiving world above… It suits you, doesn’t it?”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

She was surprised, Lone actually sounded hurt.

“Why are you acting like you’ve always hated me?” His voice grew louder as he approached, and even as she refused to look back, to face him, to give him the time of day, Amata felt Lone’s touch upon her shoulder.

“We were best friends.” His hand squeezed down insistently as she made to pull away, “I thought, at least. Was I wrong?”

“You’re a murderer.” She let the words spill like poison from her tongue, and though she made no move to flinch away, or lash out, Lone’s grip vanished from her.

“Ah.” His voice changed, then. In less than an instant, there was a new quality to even that one syllable. It was cold, unfeeling, apathetic, even. “So that’s what all this is about.”

“All this?”

“How you’ve treated me. Making me your last resort. Refusing to see me, to let me in, to just talk to me.”

“And why would I want to talk to you, now? You left us, remember?”

“I–?” Lone scoffed, his expression suddenly became wild. As Amata’s eyes met his, she backed away a step. “I do remember, Amata. I remember your father threatening to have me killed, I remember the police hunting me like a criminal for something my father did. I remember the Overseer– your dad– he… Shit.”

“No, don’t stop there, keep on going. What exactly did my father do, for you to want to murder him?”

Lone’s eyes were blank as he stared down at the desk, lost in some fog that Amata couldn’t see into from the outside.

“I mean, come on, Lone. He was scared! Nothing like this had happened before. I mean, sure, he overreacted, I know that, but… He didn’t deserve what you did to him. Him, and Freddy. I mean… I know he was an asshole, and I know my father could’ve been a better Overseer, but who gave you the right to just– Just… Kill them? I mean... How could you even do something like that?”

Lone swallowed, the first indication that he was still a living being, as he stayed still as steel throughout her speech.

“How could I have…?”

“Yes. How?”

“No, I mean… I never told you, and I never wanted you to know. But Amata… They tried to kill me first. Your dad gave the order, and Freddy was pointing a gun straight at me. M-maybe I wouldn’t have even done it then, I don’t know, but after seeing what they did to Jonas…”

Amata narrowed her eyes. If it was an act, Lone was doing splendidly. Hell, he almost had her feeling sorry for him for a minute.

“You didn’t…?”

“What? Kill Jonas?" He recoiled visibly with the words, "Are you kidding me, Amata? He was like a brother to me, I… That’s what you believed, what everyone believed, huh?”

Amata tasted copper as she bit into her bottom lip, feeling a heat prick at her eyes until she was blinking back tears.

How could I have been so wrong?

“I… I can’t just believe you now, Lone.” She saw it on his face, the way his bright eyes darkened and dulled, his brows set low, shading his face, the harsh light from above casting eerie shadows beneath his eyes, under his nose.

“What?”

It was back, that hard, cold tone. His voice matching his unsettling visage in a pinch.

If anything, this-- his tone, his reaction here-- only supports my suspicions.

“Lone, you were the only one there! Everyone who could’ve seen, who could’ve spoken for you, is dead.”

“Because they wanted to kill me.”

“Says you! And of course that’s what you would say, no one wants to admit that they could–”

“Why do you choose to believe that I’m lying? What the hell is there to gain from that?”

“I know my father." She said, sounding more firm in her head than her voice reflected. "I know he wasn’t a monster…”

“And I could be? Really?” He was back to being calmer now, his voice soft, and his touch light as he pressed a finger to her cheek, guiding her mistrusting gaze to meet his. “Amata, come on… You know me too.”

He was so close now, and Amata felt like she was being torn in two. Lone's warm breath caressed her face, but even still, she could feel the cool stare of her father’s eyes on the back of her head from the portrait above her desk. Both sets of eyes, boring into her from either side, daring her to blame them, to give up one for the other. To, no matter what truth she chose to believe, betray one of the people she loved most.

“I knew you.” She whispered as tears filled her eyes. “But this? Who you’ve become? I can’t�� I don’t trust you, not like I did.”

“Who I was? Who I am? Fuck, Amata, I’m the same person.” His caress upon her face turned to an iron hold, squishing her cheeks within his grasp until her jaw began to ache.

“No.” She shook her head, despite his almost painful pressure, “No, Lone. The old you never would’ve done this, never scared me this way, you always… I mean, you cared about me. I trusted you, and I can’t–”

Without any warning besides his close proximity, Lone lashed his head forward, and captured her already-parted lips in a harsh kiss.

Amata exclaimed into it, both of her hands going straight to Lone’s wrist to tug at his hold on her.

He held fast for a moment, insistent in his firmness as he pressed into her, as his lips held hers hostage and his tongue swiped over the closing crease of her mouth. In turn, Amata let out an angry shout, that became more of a grumble against his invading lips, wriggling further in response to his conquest.

Before she could wrench his grip from her cheeks though, Lone pulled away, and his hands fell to her shoulders instead, his grip still tight, but no longer painful.

“Cared about you?” He spat the words at her. “Amata, that’s never fucking changed.”

She was shaking in his hold slightly, trying to blink away the shock of what just happened as he exhaled his own adrenaline.

A moment of silence passed before he released her completely, and without hesitation, Amata darted to the other side of the desk, keeping the metal slab between them.

“I thought…" Lone didn't even react to her actions as he spoke, "Y’know, since you asked for my help on the radio, maybe you…”

“No.” She told him firmly, but despite her resolve, her voice still quivered. “Maybe I did, but… we were kids. I can’t now– I shouldn’t…”

“Shouldn’t?” Lone tilted his head at her, and for the first time tonight, he looked truly like himself.

Those curious eyes, with just a hint of mischief, a face capable of smiling alongside her as they laughed about a prank they’d pulled on Butch, hands capable of tending to the scrape she’d gotten on her knee in the atrium when she tripped on a loose floor tile, hair she used to tousle teasingly when they were teenagers, when she’d started to see him– them as something… more.

“Or can’t? Cuz there’s a big difference there.”

“Can’t.” Amata repeated, shaking her head before the memories could consume her and cloud her already shaky judgment.

“Hm…” Lone began to circle around the desk, slowly, giving her time to escape him if she so chose.

And I should. I should leave. Right now.

Her feet stayed planted on the floor, her eyes following his every move with lowered brows.

But maybe just to see what he’s planning... If I run from every conflict, what kind of Overseer am I?

“I say shouldn’t.” He told her cheekily, and there it was. That grin. The grin she’d thought about most boring days in the classroom, the grin that would make being shouted at by her father worth all the shenanigans they pulled together, the grin that haunted her dreams when she tried so hard to hate him for what he’d done.

This time, it was him who let out a startled noise into their unexpected kiss.

Amata couldn’t think– shouldn’t think about what she’s doing, or she’d stop, and that… while it should be what she wanted-- what was expected of her, by the civilized members of her vault, by herself, by the ghost of her father, haunting her every action as Overseer, her every thought as his daughter-- It was the last thing she could think of wanting. It was true, she should hate Lone’s guts, as she’s made it seem, as she’s wanted it to feel, but…

Instead, her hands pulled him closer, wrapping tightly around his shoulders and eliciting a grateful groan from between his lips, that bled straight into her as their vault-suit-bound bodies pressed against each other, as his hands flew to her waist to keep her close, as her tongue dove in to mingle with his until she felt goosebumps scattering up her arms, her back, sending heat straight down into her belly.

The steel walls around her seemed to all but melt away. She was whisked off, out of this prison she’d built for herself with each touch, each sound, each feeling. Lone’s firm chest rising to meet hers, his breath was the wind on her skin, his touch the sun warming her, his taste, freedom.

Something hard pressed against her back, and Amata felt herself lean back onto the desk as it was offered to her. She couldn’t stop, couldn’t think, or logic would set back in. It was as though her brain had left her, only her body and heart remained, working together to drive Lone forward, to embrace him with open arms and a forgiving heart of their own.

It was the young part of her, it was the sentimental part, it was her good intentions, her generous heart. That’s what she would tell herself later, that’s what she’d plead when the man glaring down at her from his frame above the desk would call her guilty.

The memory of her father would shame her, sure. But by now, she was used to it.

Too used to it to allow that to stop her.

To stop this.

The back of Amata’s head fell back onto the desk with a resounding thud, as Lone’s lips ravaged her neck, sucking and kissing and biting until she knew he would leave marks upon her pale skin.

He’s already etched his signature on the walls of my heart, what’s another few marks upon me?

Her fingers tangled in his hair, her nails arching as they dragged along his scalp, and down to his shoulders.

The least I can do is get even.

He seemed to take it another step further though, pulling away to tear the zipper of his vault suit all the way down to his naval, before shrugging it off his shoulders and letting the fabric drape down from his waist.

Amata had to admit, the traction was better, now her fingers were setting upon his skin, that she could leave red tracks, a signature of her own, over his body. But she’d be lying if she said that was the first thought that’d crossed her mind as he unveiled himself to her.

Whether he wanted to believe it, or not, Lone had changed. Physically, at least. Where once was soft, smooth skin, like hers, like any vault dweller’s, now he was fraught with scars. There was hard muscle where once was pliable flesh, even the bareness of his chest had grown hairy and coarse.

She might’ve once turned her nose up at that; that, and the smell of him now. So different from the saline and ivory soap smell of the whole lot of vault dwellers she’d known all her life. Now though… Her hands left his shoulders and back, in favor of running over his marked chest, feeling over the patterns of scars she’d observed, scratching over the crop of chest hairs that had caught her attention.

As far as Amata could tell, Lone was the outside world incarnate.

He was hard, rough, he smelled of soil and ash, of sweat and gunpowder, there was a wild glean to his eyes as they raked over her still-clothed form, like a great beast of the wastes she couldn’t, for the life of her, imagine.

And she couldn’t get enough.

Amata’s lips attacked him again and one of her legs wrapped around Lone's waist, pulling his body on top of hers with one aggressive movement. She felt their teeth mash together painfully, their foreheads knock, their hands overlapping each other's fervent touching in the messiness of it all, but even so, they were working towards the same goal.

In the next instant, Amata felt a pressure around her chest release, as the zipper of her vault suit was pulled to match her partner’s. She couldn’t have said which set of hands managed that bit, but she soon found her bra following by her own hands. That was when Lone finally paused, finally took a deep breath, but only in.

He gasped as she wrenched the sports bra she wore off over her head, admittedly ungracefully, but he couldn’t seem to care less.

Was that… could she see a sort of reverence beneath his nearly-stoic gaze? A memory flitted through his mind, she could see it plain on his face, and then, just as quickly, it was gone. He was back in the moment.

Lone’s lips set back upon her neck, but she need not wonder where they’d wander to next.

It was her turn, then, to gasp as his mouth descended to her freed breasts with the hunger of a wasteland mongrel.

“Mm.” The sinful reverence in his groans sent a chill up her spine, “Fuck, Amata. Should’ve come back to visit sooner.”

She meant to respond, but his hands on her hips tore every thought from her head, as he wrenched her vault suit and underwear down off of her hips in one hasty, fluid movement.

“Wow… I…” Lone started, but soon trailed off. Possessed, she guessed, by the sight of her. That’s all she had time to guess, as his hands held firm to her bare hips, and he dove straight between her thighs with what she could only describe as a growl.

Lone's mouth was warm against her, instantly ravenous as he mouthed at her slickened folds with the whole of his being. His lips and tongue worked together to encourage her legs to spread further, to let him in.

Amata’s hands flew back to the sanctuary of Lone's hair as he worked, and she found herself tugging on the strands to force him even closer as she felt the hot, wet prod of his tongue at her entrance.

He gave her no time to be self-conscious, not about the curls upon her mound, not about the fact that he was the first to lay his lips upon her this way, to see her so close and in such harsh light. Without pause, he only devoured.

A series of gasps left her at the sensations, as she felt traces of wetness slipping out of her with each stroke of his tongue, each press of his lips against her sensitive little bud. She shrunk away, hips bucking up off the cool, metal desk as he gave a harsh suck to her clit, and his grip on her tightened, pulling her whole body towards him until he could haul her thighs up over his shoulders.

Amata's blood was boiling, something tingling deep within her as he tended the flame in her groin with his touches, now with one hand reaching to circle and tease over that sensitive point as his tongue explored her entrance. Her slick practically poured out of her with his new ministrations, and he drank it up with a lewd moan as the tangy taste reached his tongue. Amata could only hold onto the desk for her life as he ushered her towards her climax.

Instead of finishing her though; yet still, with great reluctance, she felt Lone pull away.

“Almost, baby. Just need… Need you.”

He was out of breath, Amata noticed as her eyes finally opened. She could feel herself flush at the sight of him, his body glistening with sweat, his mouth, with her. His hair was mussed in all the right places, his pupils blown wide with want for her, and his… The fabric of the lower half of his vault suit was straining.

As she caught herself staring, Amata forced her eyes away with a quick clear of her throat.

“Hm,” He half laughed-half hummed, “I saw that.”

Amata allowed her eyes to rest upon him, this time at his face, just in time to see his cheeky little wink.

It made her blush all over again.

A shuffling of fabric sounded as she turned her attention away from his form and to the wall, where he couldn't tease her for looking.

The wall won’t make me blush and tingle the way he does. God, he just turns me into such a–

“Can’t always be such a goody-two-shoes, huh?”

In her peripheral vision, Amata saw him pull down his suit all the way, until he was as naked as she was.

“Not with your bad influence.” She muttered, but Lone only chuckled, and she felt his hands at her hips, tugging her as far forward as she’d go without spilling off the desk.

“Yeah, well… My bad influence here is about to make a real impression. Got any issues with that, goody-goody?”

“N-no.” She managed, despite the alarming red on her face and the strain in her throat, “Just wish you wouldn’t have said it that way.”

Amata sheepishly turned her attention back to him as Lone adjusted their bodies, aligning their hips, and finally, she saw him completely. More scars, more firmness, more hair, more… grown-up.

It took her breath away, to see him now, as she dreamed he’d be when… When they grew up together, only… Lone was more him than she’d ever been able to assume.

If only I’d known back then… He was never meant for the life I lead, but then again, maybe I…

Amata didn’t allow herself to finish that thought, afraid it’d lead her down a path of regret that would drastically change her future. She couldn’t think about that, the past, not when now was so gripping.

“Then I won’t say another word.” Lone whispered, and she chanced another glance down between their bodies, where Lone was slowly rubbing the head of his hard member between her lower lips, until, just as slowly, carefully, he began to ease himself inside.

Amata’s hands paled as she gripped the metal edges of the desk, feeling a painful twinge from the stretch of his girth. True to his word, Lone didn’t speak, only raised a questioning brow at her reaction, but Amata nodded him on.

Despite the initial pain, she was slick enough that Lone slid the rest of the way easily, and she felt herself relax against the table as he seated himself inside her. They paused as he breathed hard from above her, his forehead glistening, eyes blown wide, hair tousled, and she could only imagine the mess she looked beneath him; all bliss and barely contained reservations at the thought of all this, at the realization that what she’d been dreaming of– for years– had finally come to fruition, even despite everything that’d happened. The betrayal, the loss, the responsibility she’d gone through, she’d taken up; his absence from her life, her hatred of him, her villainization, and yet… giddy wings fluttered in her stomach above where they were joined, her chest swelled with warmth and her own eyes grew hazy with emotion at the thought of finally being with her best friend, the boy she’d loved all through her childhood, of being with him this way, as grown adults. Not fumbling teenagers about to make a mistake, not out of desperation or pity, but out of the amalgamation of shared feelings that had been bubbling up in both of them for so damn long that not even hatred, not betrayal, not verbal attacks or lies or even accusations of murder could keep them apart.

Maybe it was irresponsible, or maybe… Maybe love really did make people do crazy things.

Like her father’s love for this vault, like James’ love for his only child, the last remnant of the woman who held his heart, it may have driven both men a little crazy, but it didn’t mean they cared any less.

“I wish…” She started to say, her thoughts demanding to be shared without her consent, until they were captured by a sharp breath as Lone began to move. He pulled his hips back slowly, and pushed forward even more so, testing the waters, and allowing Amata to become used to him.

Used to him here… over me, looking into my eyes, in me.

If this had happened before… Before his father left, before hers was taken from her, would things have been different? She couldn’t help but think to herself-- even as her body tried to distract her, as the sensations passing through her demanded her attention.

“Y-you wish?” Lone prompted her, his voice so wonderfully rough, so taxed by his actions, not because they were physically taxing, the languid strokes and slow movement of his hips against her, no, but the action of holding himself back, keeping his movements calculated, keeping his thoughts in a death-grip as they screamed sincere, urgent, want for the woman beneath him.

Amata bit her lip, half-pretending not to hear his question as she allowed herself that convenient loss of perspective, of healthy boundary and revulsion that had kept her safe from all her feelings these past few years.

“Tell me what you wish.” He said instead, leaning down to mouth at her neck in such a way that his lips felt like a searing brand, and a warm caress all at once. Lone rocked into her again, still slow and fluid, but deep. Far enough inside that he could reach her end, that their bodies were all but one as he laid flush over her, as one hand reached to clasp with hers above their heads, while the other pressed over her pulsing left breast, as her heart raced at the newfound closeness, at the sound of Lone’s whispered words against her ear.

“Please,” He continued, the breathy tone all but a whine as he switched to kissing along the other side of her neck. “I want to know.”

Amata’s chest ached below his touch, and she prayed to anyone who’d listen that he didn’t feel the way her heart stuttered at his request.

Instead of appeasing him, she turned her head to capture his lips with hers, bringing her free hand up to caress his cheek, to hold him to her until he forgot all that she wished she could. His groan into her mouth sent fire down her body, and Amata felt another great rush of slickness leave her. At that, Lone’s tempo increased, the searing heat and pressure of her clenching walls spurring him onward to bring them both to an explosive end.

Her hips bucked, meeting his thrusts as her lips stayed set firmly upon him, as they breathed and groaned against each other, as she felt the slickness of his sweat merge with her own, the grip of his fingers squeeze her tightly, the rub of his pelvic bone hit her just right until her back was arching and she was pulling away with a cry of his name spilling from her parted lips.

Lone released a shout of his own, his pace stuttering as she clenched wildly around him, until his legs damn-near gave out beneath him.

“Amata, fuck… I–” A deep groan left him as Amata felt herself slowly coming down from her high, even as his pace picked back up.

She saw tears in his eyes as he pressed into her over-sensitive heat time and time again, before the telltale swell of his cock had her heart skipping beats in her chest.

Lone pulled out of her at the last instant, peeling his body from hers as his release spurted over the pale skin of her stomach.

The muscles of his torso visibly clenched and flexed with each spill of his cum onto her, and Amata could only look up tiredly, transfixed on the way his face scrunched up, how his brows drew together, how his muscular chest rose and fell and his arms seemed to tremble at the greatness of the pleasure she’d just helped bring him.

Despite the lovely sight, the pleasant fuzziness still encasing her body, a foul taste coated her mouth.

“God, Amata, I…” Lone nearly collapsed onto her when he’d finished, bracing himself on the desk with one elbow while the rest of his body pressed back over her messily. “I think... I think I love you…” He whispered the last bit between breaths, as he laid a kiss upon the side of her mouth.

The affection in his words, his actions… It tore her to pieces.

They both laid there for a moment, catching their breaths, feeling their bodies move against one another's, letting the sweet buzz of the afterglow wash over them.

“So, what… um, what were you gonna say?” He asked after a moment. After her charged silence.

She bit her lip as she looked up at the ceiling, as she felt the cruel, haunting gaze of her father's portrait burn through her disturbingly.

“I– I wish…” Amata closed her eyes, unable to meet Lone's gaze as he sat up slightly and looked so fondly down at her.

“I wish that I could love you.”

#fallout #fallout 3 #fallout npc #fallout 3 npcs #fallout 3 companions #amata almodovar #amata #amata fo3 #fallout amata #lone wanderer #amata x m!lone #dwd.nsfw #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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starions · 6 months ago

Text

all that heaven allows

pairing: butch deloria x fem!lone wanderer (gigi halloway)

content: SMUT, blow jobs

words: 1400-ish i forgot

stand alone but you can read the first chapter here (and perhaps leave a kudos and comment as well idk idk)

“You comfortable?” Butch asked her, leaning on his forearms to look at her.

She was lying in between his legs, hands on his firm thighs. She felt them tense under her palms. “Hm?” She muttered, lost in her own thoughts. “Oh, yes.” Her eyes were glued on his dick, standing tall and proud inches from her face. She’d never seen it this close before, never noticed the vein that ran up the side or the slight shift in skin tone closer to the base. It was bigger somehow too, more intimidating. She was more scared to put a dick in her mouth than to shoot a raider in the head, funny that.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Butch said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “We can go downstairs and watch that Cooper Howard movie—know you got the hots for him.”

Butch hissed as Gigi wrapped her hand around the base of him. “I want to do it,” she said as she stroked him, “‘sides, this is more entertaining than Cooper Howard anyday. Just tell me what to do.”

“A-Alright, alright. Lighten up a bit; can’t teach you anything if I come early.”

She giggled, leaning forward to place a wet kiss on the head. She smiled when she felt him twitch in her palm. Gigi lightly gripped the base to keep him steady before giving a soft lick to the head, precum gathering on her tongue. Her anxiety seemed to relieve itself, and she wrapped her lips around the tip, swirling her tongue around it.

“Fuck,” he said, his head falling into the pillows. “Don’t be afraid to—shit—take some more in. Use some spit too.”

Gigi took him out of her mouth, stroking him leisurely as she spit downward onto his dick. He’d taught her to do it for handies, so it was muscle memory as she began stroking him how he liked it. She kissed the inside of his thigh, smiling at his panting. Licking a stripe from base to tip, Gigi gathered him in her mouth again, kicking her feet in the air as she did.

“Just like that,” Butch said, strained. One of his hands fisted the sheets until his knuckles turned white, while the other was keeping her hair out of her face. “Making me feel so good, angel.”

She glowed at the praise, her ankles crossed in the air. She took a breath in through her nose, taking more of him in her mouth. Butch’s girth made her wonder how it would fit inside her, but sucking him off was even more of a challenge. Her eyes watered as she bobbed her head around him and her hand stroked what she couldn’t fit inside. His moans though, God his moans, that made her more excited than anything. Made her want to do anything to hear them as loud as possible.

In her galvanized state to make him feel as good as possible, Gigi became reckless, taking him down to the hilt until his head hit the back of her throat and her nose nestled in his trimmed curls. The gasp that came out of Butch was delicious, but Gigi was too busy gagging to revel in it. His dick was out of her mouth in an instant, and she coughed globs of spit out of her mouth and onto his crotch in order to get in some much needed air.

“Oh shit,” Butch said, voice slightly pained. He sat up, getting her hair out of her sticky face. “Are you alright, baby?”

She heaved, red in the face, and nodded. “‘M sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said, wiping the spit off her mouth with his hand. “Happens. Just maybe don’t try to swallow me whole your first time.”

She nodded, embarrassed.

“And watch the teeth. Nearly scraped the skin off my dick just now. Some people might be into that, but not me.”

She scoffed, repositioning herself between his thighs to finish the job. She had just wrapped her hand around him when Butch stopped her.

“You sure you want to keep going?”

She looked at him with a tilt of the head, hand stilled around him. “Do you want to keep going?”

“Well yeah—I want the most gorgeous girl in the world to suck my soul out my dick, but I’m not the one who just choked. We can stop—”

She pressed a wet hand onto his chest and pushed him into the pillows. “Stop talking and let me make you feel good.”

He sighed as her hand began to massage him. “Yes ma’am.”

Gigi moved carefully this time, taking him in her mouth in a pace comfortable for her. She made sure to curl her lips over her teeth as she bobbed her head. Her wrist twisted around him slickly, the excess spit making the glide easy. Butch’s hands fisted her hair tightly, but had enough willpower not to force himself down her throat. How sweet.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, head thrown back and eyes clenched shut. “Fuck, that’s so good Gigi. Fucking Christ, bunny, mouth feels fucking amazing.”

His incoherent rambling, the ragged breathing, and the slight bucking of his hips told Gigi all she needed to know. She sped up her ministrations, the obscene sound of spit and her gags filling the air. Her free hand slipped in between them, and she used it to roll his neglected balls gently in her hand.

“S-Shit,” he panted, chest heaving. “Geeg, fuck, g-gonna come. Where—where should I—” His eyes rolled back in his head as she stroked him faster, bobbed her head sloppier, and massaged his balls tighter. He couldn’t help bucking into her throat and tugging hard on her hair as he came with a loud and drawn out moan.

Gigi pulled back just enough so that the hot ropes of his cum landed on her tongue opposed to down her throat. She felt him pulse in her mouth, his balls tense in her hand. Butch gave a few more short spurts before his hands loosened from her hair and his body relaxed into the mattress.

She sat up on her knees, gathering the cum that spilled from her mouth with her thumb and sucking on it. His cum was still heavy on her tongue, salty with a strange viscosity she couldn’t compare anything else to. She could spit it out, but that would require her to find a towel somewhere, so she swallowed it down with one gulp. It wasn’t pleasant, but she’d ingested worse since living in the wasteland.

Below her, Butch sighed, coming out of his post-orgasm haze. “Jesus, Gigi. You blew my fucking mind.” He sat up, face glowing. “Stay there, let me get you something to spit into.”

“I swallowed it.”

He stared at her, dumbstruck. “You swallowed it?”

She looked at him, suddenly worried. “Was I not supposed to?”

He looked at her funny for a second, then he laughed. He grabbed her face in his hands, kissing her sloppily as they fell backwards onto the bed. Surely he could taste himself on her tongue, and Gigi didn’t know why she found that so hot.

They pulled apart, and Butch gathered her in his arms so she was lying on his chest and his nose was in her hair. “Thank you, doll.”

“For sucking your soul out of your dick?” She asked, teasingly. “You’re welcome.”

He chuckled into her hair, kissing the top of her head.

Sleep was luring them both in, and Gigi wished that they could stay like this forever—wrapped in each other's arms without the fear of raiders or ghouls or slavers or radiation. Just them. Forever.

“Hey baby?” She asked. He hummed in response. “You know how you’ve been trying to help me with my Spanish?”

“Key word: trying,” Butch said with a smirk. “You suck.”

“You’re so mean to me,” she said into his chest. “What I was going to ask was,” Gigi said, lifting herself up, “what does ‘te amo’ mean?”

He cracked one gray eye open to look at her, pausing for a second. “I love you.”

She smiled wide. “Aw, you’re so sweet.” She pressed a kiss to his lips. “I love you too.”

“You’re such a little brat,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist and smacking her ass.

She cackled as he began peppering kisses on her neck, chest, and face. “I’m not joking,” she said through giggles. “I really do love you. I don’t know why it took me this long to say it.”

Butch looked up at her with adoration, eyes big and wet. “I love you too,” he said quietly. “Think I always have.”

#giggles... um hehe #butch deloria #butch deloria x lone wanderer #butch deloria smut #fo3 #fallout 3 #hannah writes #oc: gigi halloway #to Me butch speaks spanish

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strangespore · 4 years ago

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Sweet Roll In The Wastes

Butch had it planned out, and it was going to be perfect. They both loved the sweet rolls Old Lady Palmer made, and homemade gifts were the shit. It took Butch a bit of time before he could ‘acquire’ the recipe, because what could be a better gift than a sweet roll made by his boyfriend for Coyote's 19th birthday. Butch got help from his boys, Wally, and Paul, they didn’t know what it was for, but they didn’t need to.

Once he ‘acquired’ the recipe, all he had to do was lift the ingredients, but then that fucker James had to go and fuck it up, ruining his plans and his relationship by leaving. If Coyote didn’t leave, he'd be dead, just like Palmer's grandson Jones, it pissed Butch off knowing that he couldn't follow him out, but with James gone, no one could look after his Ma, and the roaches did a number on her.

“Hey, I know it isn’t much, but I want you to have my tunnel snake's jacket. Go ahead, take it.” Butch was already pulled off his jacket, wrapping it around Coyote's shoulders. They shared a tender moment, foreheads touching and a kiss. That was the last conversation they had, and just like that Coyote was gone, and the overseer did his best to erase Coyote and his dad like they never lived in the vault.

Now the only thing Butch had to remember Coyotes by was the recipe and memories, all Coyote had to remember him was his jacket. Who knew when they'd see each other again, Coyote could be dead, and Butch wouldn't even know.

It was instantaneous what the overseer did, bring down martial law to control the vault. It was hell for everyone, Amata, more so since Coyote wasn’t there to fend off Butch and his boys anymore. She wasn't beat, but she was isolated. No one wanted to be around her because of her dad, and Butch made sure to make her life hell.

It had been nearly five months since the martial law was put into action, and somehow Amata was able to get a message out to Coyote. Now Amata was good for one thing in Butch's eyes, and that was getting Coyote back if he was even alive. It was a stressful week, waiting to see if Coyote would even show. The majority of the teens, and the few adults that had liked Coyote and his dad, were told about the broadcast in secret.

Butch nearly wept when he saw the Coyote was still alive, it was like a weight was uplifted from his shoulder. Amata swooped down like a bird of prey on Coyote, using guilt from their once friendship and false promises to get him to pick up her mess of a father and the martial law that hung over the vault. As bittersweet as it was, this gave Butch a chance to be with Coyote again, and man was Coyote, the same nosebleed Butch fell for even after facing whatever the outside threw at him.

“Hey Nosebleed, I gotta talk to ya’.” Butch was smug as he sauntered over to Coyote, throwing an arm over his shoulder. Butch didn't have to talk his way into travelling with Coyote. After Butch gave his speech, Coyote just looked at Butch, brushing his scarred hand against Butch’s, and together they left the vault.

Like it was originally supposed to happen, and Butch couldn't have been happier. A smug grin graced his lips as he waved goodbye to the gang members with the promise to make the Tunnel Snakes a true and proper gang.

(**Transition**)

As the pair travelled away from the vault and to Rivet City, Coyote hadn’t told Butch where they were going.

“Where we headin’, Nosebleed?” The tunnel snake asked between his sips of Nuka-Cola, Coyote next to him, his arm slung over the bench the pair were sitting on.

“Rivet City.”

“Why there?”

“You’ll like it, trust me Butchy.” Coyote had a teasing grin on his face as he swooped in for a chaste peck.

Butch found out quickly that the wasteland was a dangerous place for anyone to travel, and that wasn’t including the mercenaries that were after Coyote. He was a goodie-two-shoes at times. Not that Butch cared, he was on cloud nine, not only did he leave the vault, but he was with Coyote. The pair shared small touches, just the littlest of things, a hand on the shoulder when they were crouching, Coyote being closer than necessary to whisper in his ear about dangers. Coyotes hand brushing against his as they walked, or shared his pip-boy light, how they'd be sitting close to each other just close enough that their thighs or knees touched.

It wasn't the vault, but here they didn't have to hide. Butch didn't know where their relationship was heading or where it was because of the mess at the said vault that screwed everything, but Coyote still cared for Butch and Butch, he was happy, not that he’d ever admitted it to Coyote because Butch wasn’t some sap.

Soon after they had arrived at Rivet City, Coyote and Butch had purchased the only free room at the Weatherly Hotel, after much-needed bathing, Butch sighed with relief.

“Man, you have no idea how much I needed that bath,” Butch groaned out as he rubbed his sore neck. “I feel like I went three weeks without gettin’ cleaned.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll probably get used to it if you travel with me more,” Coyote said, chuckling as Butch threw a glare at him. “Come on, I’m sure you tried, and if not, I could tire you out.” He purred, before settling down in the bed. Butch quickly following suit.

Butch woke up to someone, Coyote, messing with his hair. The tunnel snake was on his side facing the other man, his head resting on Coyote's bare chest, somehow switching positions in the night.

“What time is it?”

“I think it’s around 10.” Coyote rasped as his hand trailed down the butch’s spine, causing the burnet to grumble and give his wandering hand a half-hearted shove.

Coyote had left the next morning, he woke up early in the morning, taking the time to settle and arrange some things for Butch before he even woke up his boyfriend. The younger man had bought him a few things as well, making sure the tunnel snake had some caps to last him until Coyote could return. The lone wanderer left with a promise to come back for him soon, leading Butch to hang out at The Muddy Rubber most days, drinking, and cutting hair with permission from the owner Belle, one of the things Coyote arranged for him. Butch didn't know if she just wanted the eye candy or if she knew about the relationship between the two vault dwellers. Butch didn't care, it gave him something to do, and money in his hand while he waited, not that he'd admit it, for Coyote.

A week after Coyote left, is when Butch found out about James, and he wasn't going to lie, it did hurt a bit that Coyote didn't tell him, and he had to find out through the radio host Three Dog. While Butch was drinking and not so quietly ranting about his relationship with Coyote to Belle, she was kind enough to kick him out with words of wisdom about surprising the Lone Wonderer, which gave Butch the idea about the sweet roll recipe he stole from Old Lady Palmers. He just needed the ingredients and Coyote.

It took another week before Coyote came back to Rivet City, and the first thing he did was look for Butch. Slyly brushing his hand against Butch before asking if the Tunnel Snake wanted a drink.

"Yeah sure, your pain' though." Butch scoffed as he walked to the bar, Coyote hot on his heels.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Coyote said, voice ruff as he took a seat next to the burnet. Once they sat down and got comfortable, drinks in hand, knees knocking together.

"Hey so, I was thinking I need a couple of things, and you hot shot know the place better."

"Okay, and what exactly do you need?"

"Now, don't get ahead of yourself, I know what I need, so I should go with you. Ya 'know to make sure you don't get the wrong shit."

"Hm okay." Butch didn't know exactly what to expect, but he was smug that Coyote didn't press, clearly trusting Butch. The Tunnel Snake pushed his knee up close to the Coyote leg flush against his.

They talked about other things while they drank, eventually, the pair went to Butch's room, his arm slung over the lone wonderer's shoulder. Fingers tugging at dirty grey hair. Coyote was not as dirty as the typical traveller, but between the heat and fighting, it didn't leave him smelling like a rose.

Coyote mumbled something about a bath, leading to the pair buying a bath paying extra for it to be warm, much like he did on the first night here. Since Coyote turned on the water purifier's baths, the capital waste was slowly letting the baths and other water luxuries become a common thing that Butch took advantage of, and that wasn’t just because Coyote was dripping wet afterwards, not that he was complaining.

(**Transition**)

Once Butch was packed and ready, Coyote made a few rounds in the marketplace, buying more ammo and rations for the both of them, things that would help them get from place to place. Butch was kind of worried about how he was going to find everything though. The vault had all the ingredients the tunnel snake doubted that Old Lady Palmer could make them any other way.

The ingredients were fairly simple; three boxes of Sugar Bombs, two purified waters, three sugar and two spices. Butch just had to find them, the clear choice was just buying the ingredients he could, the water wasn’t an issue, the issue was the sugar and spices. Butch didn’t know where to begin, apart from the Super-Duper Mart, to check if they were anything left still lying around.

“You know where any Super-Duper Marts that haven’t picked clean yet?” Butch brought up as they passed the metal bridge.

“Hmm,” Coyote began pulling up his map, spending a few seconds to flip through his locations. “I know found one and that’s new Megaton, by the vault, you know if you had ment- Ow! What was that for?” Grumbling as he rubbed his now sore arm where Butch had punched him.

“If I had thought about it, then I would have said somethin’.” Butch sassed.

“I don’t think that warranted being punched though Butchy.”

“Shut up, Nosebleed,” Butch said after a moment, amusement lacing his words as Coyote nudged his arm. Sneaking in a little goose before laughing as Butch let out a little sputter.

“Hey,” Butch stuttered, ”Don’t start somethin’ you won’t finish.” Butch heckled, following after Coyote and the younger man just laughed.

(**Transition**)

It took a bit longer for the pair to reach the Super-Duper Mart, taking nearly three weeks’ worth of travel. This was because Coyote wanted to check every place he could for the ingredients. Butch thought it was odd that they hadn’t found anything yet, considering how often Coyote would scavage. This was mainly because Coyote would pocket any sugar bombs he’d find, so they’d have to search longer.

“Hey, Butch?”

“What, Nosebleed?” Butch glanced at Coyote as he was crouched over a pile of scrap.

“What’s the stuff for?”

“It’s for what’s her face at the Muddy Rubber, she’s paying me good caps to find it.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Butch tried not to fidget under the other man’s stare. “Worry about your own shit.”

“Okay okay, no need to get your panties in a twist, Babe.” Coyote threw a wink at Butch before stuffing the metal into a bag.

The lone wander and Butch shared little jabs as they walked and scavenged as the pair made it to the Super-Duper Mart, just outside of Megaton. The Mart hadn’t changed since Coyote had first stepped foot in the grocery store, maybe a few more bloodstains, and maybe that dead ant wasn’t there before, but other than that, it was the same as he’d left it, he did take a quick peek of the two Nuka-Cola machines before the pair fully went inside, but just entering the entrance. They both started off sneaking in, not knowing if raiders had remade their home here but quickly ended up in a fight when Coyote had kicked a bent can.

“Who's your daddy?” Butch yelled out at one of the raiders.

“Really Butch?”

“Oh, shut it Nosebleed.”

Though it wasn’t hard to deal with the raiders, Butch just thought it was an annoyance considering the resources they caused them to use afterwards. However, thankfully Butch and Coyote were able to find some sugar and spice. It was just enough to make what Butch wanted, though he did briefly wonder how many rads were in the little plastic container.

“Found it!” The tunnel snake shouted, waving his hand to get Coyote’s attention.

“Nice, we can head to my house in Megaton and rest up.” Coyote smiled as he walked over, pulling his hair back into a low ponytail.

“You have a house?”

“Yeah…” Coyote trailed off, scratching his head, “Didn’t I mention that?”

“No, no you didn’t.”

“Whoops must have slipped my mind. Come on, it’s only a 30-minute walk.”

Butch followed after Coyote, muttering about how they could have just fucked at his house, rolling his eyes as Coyote wiggled his eyebrows at him. The tunnel snake was a bit surprised when he first entered Megaton, the fact that there was a bomb just in the middle of town was a bit disconcerting, but he calmed down a bit when Coyote told him that the bomb was, in fact, disabled and that because he unarmed it, he got the free house and a robot butler Wadsworth. Who was kind enough to offer Butch a purified water when he entered behind the other vault dweller.

Coyote’s home was decorated decently, not something that Butch himself would pick, but it suited the love wonderer, it was pre-war themed, all he needed was a kid’s red bike, and it would have fit in with the magazines they’d found. That being said, Butch made himself very comfortable on one of the living room chairs, spreading himself out across the arms.

“You’ve been holding out on me, huh?” Butch said a bit snidely, though it was without heat.

“Not really, I was saving up for the refurbishing before I brought you here, you would have complained much like you’re doing now.” Smirking at Butch as he not so subtly pouted.

“Whatever nosebleed, show me your bedroom, so I can nap. My legs are killing me.”

“Sure, want me to join you?”

“Is that a serious question?” Butch said, before mockingly repeating Coyote’s question, before grabbing at the other clothes and tugging him to the bedroom.

(**Transition**)

Butch checked twice and then tripled checked the date to make sure that it was Coyote’s birthday in three days. The two vault dwellers spent the past few weeks just lounging together and hanging around town, and that wasn’t just because Butch complained about not spending enough time together, he made a lot of excuses to keep Coyote in town with him.

That being said, now Butch needed Coyote gone for a couple of hours, so he could bake and threaten some of the friends that Coyotes had made to help throw the party. He managed to get Moira on board. She was pretty excited, saying something about a survival guide and parties. Butch wasn’t paying attention after he got her to help, though she did send him off to scavage something which she said could take a good few hours. Leaving Butch enough time to talk to the other townies like Gob, Jericho, Lucy, and some other people Coyote talked to.

All that was left was the sweet rolls.

But Butch didn’t have the recipe anymore; he just had the vague memory of the instructions and the ingredients, and well, let’s just say the past couple of months is killer on his memory considering how much inner turmoil and guilt he internalized, as well as externalized but no one has to know-how. When Butch did get out of the vault, he took the time to write out what he remembered on half a ruined book, Butch didn’t remember any of the measurements, proper cooking times, or any of the fancy words Old Lady Palmer wrote. It would be okay, surely baking wasn’t that hard.

Butch was very wrong, baking was hard. After jerry-rigging Coyote’s oven and nearly blowing it up in the process, Butch eventually figured out how to get it to the right temperature, if the oven actually got to that temperature who knew. Moira made Butch something to mix the batter, but that really didn’t help at all, since butch didn’t remember any of the measurements, he threw in everything but the sugar and a can of purified water into a bowel, which resulted in a weirdly thick mess of batter. After he used the mixing thing, Moira made, it ended up going too fast and flung nearly all of the batter out of the bowel and onto the walls, floor and unfortunately himself in the crosshairs.

“Damn it… damn it, why isn’t this working out, man how did that old lady make it seem so easy...” Butch whined in frustration he didn’t hear the door open. The tunnel snake scooped some of the batter off of his cheek, licking it off before letting out a satisfied hum. “At least it tastes good.”

“That’s good, considering you made quite the mess,” Coyote leered as he slid up to Butch pressing his chest to the other mans back, grabbing at the tunnel snakes’ hand to lick up some of the batter. “It does taste good, but we should clean up before Wadsworth has a robotic heart attack,” Coyote smiled, “Those are serious you know.”

“Rigghhtt, what are you doing back. You’re supposed to be helping Moira.”

“I finished it early.”

“No shit, Nosebleed,” Sighing as he pushed away from Coyote. “Help me clean up before I make you do it yourself.”

“I’m hurt you’d make me do that, after all you’re the one that made the mess to begin w-“ Butch cut off Coyote with an elbow to the side, shocking Coyote more than anything. “Did you have to do that?”

“Yes! Now help me.”

(*The End*)

#fallout #fo3 #butch deloria #lone wanderer #m/m ship #m/m fanfic #m/m fiction #butch x lone wanderer #male lone wanderer #fyppage #fanfic #fanfic writing #archive of our own #strangerduckins

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bimonchipmunk · 4 years ago

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!NOSEBLEED!

#turns out doing ur drawings under random stuff worked out in the end #like oh whoops beeg nose - waiiit a second #fallout #fallout 3 #butch deloria #fallout butch #tunnel snakes #butch x lone wanderer #butch x M!lone wanderer #fallout fanart #adah dunn #my art #oc x canon

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libertybri · 3 years ago

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I love love love your Butch oneshots! They're awesome! (Your writing in general is awesome). Could you write a Butch oneshot with Lone (he/him) and Butch outside the vault, Butch getting hurt and Lone freaking out but doing his best to help? While Lone thinks Butch is asleep, resting from his injuries, Lone confesses how he feels to Butch and Butch is a little smug but says he feels the same.

author’s note; thanks anon, you’re so kind! hope you enjoy!! <3

mini title: “compromise”

pairing; Butch x m!Lone

warnings: none

word count; 521

tldr; Butch gets hurt and Lone confesses his attraction when he thinks he is asleep, but Butch hears him and reciprocates

Though Butch now lays peacefully sleeping in the infirmary of Rivet City, Lone can’t help but to stress himself with the thought of the earlier events that caused his injury. Butch wasn’t the greatest fighter in the wastes, Lone noted that almost immediately. He especially loved to trash talk in quite possibly the worst moments of a gun fight, which inevitably lands him with a bullet graze on the neck and an irritated friend at his side.

Lone narrows his eyes at the unconscious man before him and shakes his head. “You’re so stupid. Can’t wait for you to wake up so I can just tell you how damn stupid you are again.”

Butch stirs lightly in his sleep at hearing Lone’s voice but doesn’t move as if he was awoken. Lone knew he would be okay after this but it only left him to wonder how soon Butch’s next injury would happen. The younger man leans back in his bedside chair and drags his sight away from his pitiful friend with a roll of his eyes.

“You know, you think you’re being courageous, or witty. Hell, I don’t know what you’re thinking when you do stupid stuff. But you clearly don’t know what it does to me.” Lone gripes mostly to himself, but speaks as if Butch could hear his rant. “Never thought I would grow to care so much about what happens to you, but now it’s all I can seem to think about. You’re all I can seem to think about. Damn it.”

Lone sighs deeply and stands up from his chair, scooting it back a few inches and creating a loud miserable squeal against the metal floor. He finally turns his attention back to Butch who now lays awake with a smug grin among his face. “Did I wake you?” Lone asks hesitantly, wondering how long he had actually been awake.

“You mean from the chair or your blabbering about how much you love me?” Butch chuckles as Lone’s face grows a deep shade of red.

“I never said that.” Lone defends himself quickly, feigning a timid persona now that he was personally confronted with these feelings.

“You didn’t have to.” Butch retorts, “But hey, maybe love is a bit of a step too far. I’m fine with takin’ things nice and slow, baby.”

“You’re such an ass.” Lone can’t help but to smile as they pick at each other. He instinctively moves in closer to Butch’s side and freezes as the other man takes his hand gently.

Butch sits up and meets Lone’s curious eyes as he moves his legs to the side and motions for Lone to join him on the infirmary bed. “C’mon, I won’t bite. Heh, unless ya want me to.” Butch teases as Lone situates himself comfortably across from him. “I’ll try and stop doin’ stupid things on one condition.”

“A compromise? Fine. What is it?”

“You gotta be mine, and to makes things fair I’ll be yours too.” Butch winks as he settles his case with Lone, receiving a chuckle from the other man and a squeeze to his hand.

“Deal.”

#butch deloria x male lone #fallout #fallout 3 #fallout fanfic #fallout fandom #fallout companions #butch deloria #fallout 3 butch #fallout 3 butch deloria #fo3 butch #fo3 butch deloria

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gold-and-rubies · 4 years ago

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List of My Fics

This is different from my masterpost which I need to update. This is a list of all of my fics, both oneshots and wips. These are separated by oneshots, long ones, and nsfw. Reminder, x = romantic/sexual, and & = platonic/familial

Oneshots:

Fear and Courage: Vilkas x F!Dragonborn

Something Special: MacCready x F!Sole Survivor

Mulaag Do Fin Zii: Vilkas x F!Dragonborn

Purity: Vilkas & Farkas & F!Dragonborn

Fireside: Butch DeLoria x F!Lone Wanderer

Waking Hours: Butch DeLoria x F!Lone Wanderer

Changes: Butch DeLoria x F!Lone Wanderer

Bullet Wound Confession: Deacon x M!Sole Survivor

Jealous Charming: Deacon x F!Sole Survivor

Hiding Behind Sunglasses: Deacon x F!Sole Survivor

Long Fics

In It For The Long Haul: MacCready x F!Sole Survivor

I’m Not an Angel, Baby: Benny Gecko x F!Courier Six

NSFW

Dirty Thoughts: Curie and some fantasies

Alone Time: MacCready x Fantasy of F!Sole Survivor

Clean and Dirty: Butch DeLoria x F!Lone Wanderer

#fanfiction #fanfic #fallout #skyrim #fnv #fo4 #fo3 #maccready #deacon fo4 #sole survivor #lone wanderer #dragonborn #vilkas #butch deloria

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xadoheandterra · 7 years ago

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Title: Don’t Write Me A Postscript Chapter: XI (I / II / III / IV / V / VI / VII / VIII / IX / X / XII / XIII) Fandom: Red vs Blue Characters: Church | Alpha, Kaikaina Grif | Sister | Agent Kansas, Cornelius Thromwell Andersmith | Agent Oregon, Kappa, Sarge, Michael Caboose | Agent California | Michael-210, David Church | Agent Washington | Recovery One Summary: He was all sorts fucked up and didn’t want to admit it. Being alone for fourteen months didn’t help matters--except, well, Church was tired of being alone. Tired of people leaving and dying--and he thought, no more. I’m done. I’m out.

Won’t Say You’re Sorry (I / II / III)

Do You Even Feel Compassion? (I / II)

Kai stared down at the missive sent directly to her from a name she had not, in fact, ever expected to see again. For a long moment Kai just stared, and stared—and a part of her contemplated pretending she’d not received the message at all and go back to her plans for tonights rave to piss off the old shotgun man who shot at her Dex for fun across the Gulch. For a moment Kai contemplated outright murder—except she and Dex talked, after her arrival and after everything, and she knew Dex liked Sarge for whatever reason and Kai was determined not to ruin this too for her brother. She ruined enough between the both of them while growing up already. If it weren’t for her Dex wouldn’t even be—

With a frustrated grunt Kai grit her teeth and slammed her hand down onto the table, next to her tablet and bowed her head over her knees. She let the pain rush up her arm and bit back a scream—let it ground her down into the moment until the thoughts she didn’t want to focus on left her. With a huff Kai leaned back and stared up at the cement ceiling, strung up with lights of all colors that were, for the moment, off. She ran her fingers along the back of her neck and massaged them into her shoulders, welcomed the twinge of pain that followed the movement, and sighed.

“Fuck you Andersmith,” she grumbled, dropped her feet off of the table, and swiped the tablet up. “Fuck you and the horse you damn well rode in on.” With a growl Kai stormed out of the base. She didn’t bother to grab her armor or the protective undersuit. It wasn’t like Sarge would actually shoot her anyway—she knew Donut talked to him, once, and if she remembered the white-blond farm-boy at all she didn’t doubt he was convincing in his weird way. Plus everyone over on Dex’s team seemed rather fond of the farm-boy, anyway, so Kai had that going in her favor. Still, for safety’s sake, Kai took a moment to pause a good distance away from Red Base.

Kai looked down at her tablet, sucked in a breath, and looked back at the pockmarked ground. “OI! YOU OLD WHITE FUCK!” Kai practically swayed with the force of her yell and squinted over at the red base. She waited and watched for Sarge to pop up on top of the base, shotgun at the ready as he peered off in the distance at her.

“What do yer want, yer damned dirty blue?!” Sarge yelled across the canyon.

“IT’S ABOUT DEX!” Kai screamed. “AND THAT PASTY KISS-ASS OF HIS!” She watched as Sarge dithered for a second, and then disappeared from the roof without a word. Kai huffed and started to pace around the hill, her hands wrapped tight around the tablet with Andersmith’s message. Mentioning Dex and his not-boyfriend should get the old bastard right up to her. She noticed his soft spot for the nerd, so she hoped by mentioning him she’d at least get his attention.

Kai didn’t doubt if she just screamed about Dex he wouldn’t have even really listened beyond to give her his shitty condolences. Honestly what was Butch even thinking, picking a twisted up old creep like this to be the leader of red team? Not to mention her precious Dex! If she ever got her hands on his corpse she’d happily burn it—but she still hadn’t found where it’d gotten to. Butch didn’t seem to be in the caverns like that poor kid or the body Tex once housed. Kai wondered if he was even alive somewhere, holed up and waiting for the right moment to swoop back into the swing of things.

Her thoughts didn’t distract her for long, and soon Kai dug her teeth into her lips as she paced. Her gaze slipped down to the message from Andersmith and she looked back to the base while she moved with deadly precision and grace. Damn Andersmith for contacting her now, of all things, when she’d been certain everything would be fine. It wasn’t like Dex’s life would be at risk because of the stupid AI they had to keep an eye on anymore—or at least, it shouldn’t have. Now this? Kai pulled the tablet up and slammed her back against the trunk of the lone, twisted tree with a grunt. She swiped along the glass surface and shifted her shoulders so that the bark actually dug into the faint scars in a way to tug some of her attention and keep her senses sharp.

The video stuttered with slipspace radiation interference, one of the little tricks Omega Team used when sending secured messages if they weren’t on location with one another. The unique radiographic signature let Kai know that Andersmith wasn’t compromised, in need of rescue, or immediate assistance for whatever reason. It also let her know that the message was priority and that was what got Kai out here, now, speaking with Sarge of all people.

“Hey—Hey Kai,” Andersmith said, lips pulled into a wry grin. He wore the lip piercing Kai had gotten him during shore leave one day, and she saw several new additions all across his face alongside a tattoo of some alien script under his eye. “I k-k-k-kkknow you didn’t expect to h—from me again.” The static rushed through the video and cut through words like butter, but the context was still readable as he spoke. “We didn’t pa-a-a-arrrt on the best of terms, did we?”

Kai hunched her shoulders.

“Yeah,” Andersmith nodded and scrubbed his hand through his hair. The screen fizzed and jumped around some more before she found him staring, serious now as he looked at her. “Look the Director sent me a m-ii—ve. I’m en-rrrrrroute to Rhodam.”

Kai closed her eyes.

“I-I know,” Andersmith sighed. “You don’t want me near-r-rrrr Outposssssst Alpha, but I trust you wo-won’t shoot me down?”

“Don’t count on it,” Kai grumbled.

“Th-thought n-n-n-nnnnnot, so,” Andersmith continued. “S-S-So I’ve been given permisssssssion to break that one—” the words completely washed away into static, but when Andersmith popped back into the screen it was with a picture of Dex and his not-boyfriend to be held up. “—my collateral. I trust you understand?” His smile became almost bitter as he leaned back. “Yeah. Yeah I know you do.” He leaned back. “I’ll see you soon, Kai.” The screen broke up again into interference, and then just the brush of fingertips against the camera, a silent goodbye, before it completely cut out.

Kai smashed her back into the tree with barely contained fury. Dammit, Andersmith! Why couldn’t he have included something more than just—that? Oh when she saw him she was going to enjoy wrapping her thighs around his neck and listening to him gasp for it, Kai swore. She would’ve just been happy with shooting down his pelican but not now—not now. Not with the potential threat of Dex being on board that thing, as well.

“Well, little missy,” Sarge huffed as he came to a rest several yards away from her. Kai straightened up and noted that Sarge held his good loosely, but finger off the trigger like he had in all their few other interactions since everyone left the Gulch. “What’s all this hullabaloo about, then?”

Kai scowled at Sarge and crossed her arms—every inch of her a petulant child and just the way she wanted it to appear as she regarded the old man in power armor. She needed to play her cards just right, for this to pan out, and for her to get her shot in on Andersmith for this mess, but this was where Kai excelled. Playing people to her tune and pulling at the threads they left beyond—this was her talent, for all that Dex wanted to pretend she didn’t have it. With a huff, Kai began to spin her tale.

Cornelius ‘Corey’ Andersmith leaned back with his feet kicked up onto the console as he watched the expanse of space pass him by. He tried his hardest to ignore the muffled shouting that came from the cargo-space and the increasingly creative food-related insults that were tossed in his direction. There wasn’t anything Private Dexter Grif could say to him that would make him any more terrified than facing down Kai after the not-so-subtle threat issued toward her brother.

“Are you really sure about this course of action?”

Corey cracked open an eye to stare at the small, holographic figure that he’d come to know well over the years.

“No, Kappa, I’m not sure,” Corey sighed and closed his eyes. He ignored the way Kappa moved from in front of him to hover over his shoulder, washing his cheeks with faint red light.

“I don’t think this is a wise path to take,” Kappa said a little blandly. “You know what the yellow-demon is like.”

“And I told you to quit calling her a yellow-demon,” Corey shook his head with a sigh. “Just keep an eye on our systems and our heading.”

“The orange-round-one does not sound too pleased, either,” Kappa pointed out.

“Who would be happy in circumstances like these?” Corey mused. If it were him, back home on Chorus before Project Freelancer, before escaping the inescapable gravity well of the planet, Corey would be spitting fire and vitriol at his captors.

“One would think the orange-round-one would be pleased to not be in front of a firing squad,” Kappa replied. “Perhaps it is upset about the purple-red not-AI?”

“I don’t know, Kappa,” Corey shrugged. “It’s been almost a month now. I doubt anyone would be so forgiving, circumstances such as these or not.” Corey sighed and snuggled down into the chair.

“I would be forgiving,” Kappa moved toward the door to the cargo bay and stared at it contemplatively. “Should we not contact Xi? We are near to our objective.”

Corey shrugged. “Rather not bother Xi if it’s all the same to you,” he said and waved a hand in Kappa’s direction. “Not until we’ve got the target in sights, at least.”

Kappa twisted in the air for a second and then settled on top of Corey’s head. A little bit of shifting around had the small AI practically laying across the fringe of Corey’s hair. “I do not like this path.”

Corey shrugged his shoulder and ran his fingers through his hair, inadvertently directly through Kappa’s hologram as well. “Tough luck, you’re stuck with me.”

“I do not mind you,” Kappa said.

“Yeah, yeah. Just keep an eye on that heading, Kappa. I’m going to take a nap. Wake me when we’re close to planetfall.” Kappa flickered from atop Corey’s head, and then vanished the holographic form the second Corey’s vitals registered that he’d finally slipped into slumber.

Church pulled his motorbike up next to Washginton’s on the side of the road. It had taken him up until the second waystation to get Washington to admit to commandeering them a couple of vehicles that didn’t register as ‘cars’ on his ping-list, and as such would be exempt from his strange not-quite-cursed-fixation with the vehicles. It would take them far too long to travel to Valhalla elsewise, and Church rather wanted to spend as little time as possible between stops now.

“Something on your mind?” Church questioned. He’d finally relented now that Wash got them bikes and gave the Freelancer back his helmet. Caboose fussed for a while, but to make things ‘even’ Church allowed the big blue soldier to hand out the rest of the helmets too.

“What part of the pelican do you think landed here?” Wash asked, and tapped the map where Church had marked out a possible secondary site. They were rather close to the path off the main road they’d need to follow if they did choose to take the detour.

Church shrugged. “Could be any part of it,” he said. “Why?”

Wash folded up the map and looked up at the sky tiredly. “I need the ship’s black box specifically,” Wash admitted. “If I am to get the data from the flight, including record of its crash, then I need that black box.” Wash tilted his head down to look at Church. “Anything else, Freelancer tech included, is secondary. My primary mission is to find out where the Omega AI is now.”

“And the possible Omega incident at Valhalla makes that location more pressing,” Church agreed with a frown behind his mask.

Wash shook his head tiredly. He couldn’t be sure which was the better option for them at the moment—take the time out of getting to Valhalla and possibly lose what was most likely the primary crash site, or search this secondary site on the off chance of unearthing that black box. After a second Wash looked back at Church again. “Why did you provide me the alternate sites?”

Church bit his lip. He hadn’t been sure why he’d pulled up everything he could remember that he’d calculated out while at High Ground, let alone why he gave it all to Wash. Ever since their crash and the life-or-death scare David had given him—the realization—Church tried hard to avoid thinking in too much detail about what he was doing. He didn’t want to think. If he let himself drift off into questioning—into looking too closely at everything—Church felt afraid.

“You’ve grown on me,” Church said, eventually, almost like giving away a secret. He refused to look at David as he continued, voice growing fainter. “And you…remind me of someone, actually. Someone I thought I’d never see again.” Church shook his head. This wasn’t the right time, nor the right place. He glanced over toward the forest and the direction he knew the secondary site would be.

“Church…” David murmured, and yeah that was definitely David and not Agent Washington.

“You know I didn’t have to listen to you,” Church said. “I could’ve just let you kill yourself trying to get into High Ground. Would’ve saved me so much fucking trouble…” Church sighed and slumped over the bike. “Just holler when you’ve made your decision. I’ve got my own reasons for seeing that crash site, anyway.” Church kicked the bike back into gear and rode over to where Caboose had pulled off to the side of the road and the big blue soldier worked on preparing snacks for the group.

Wash watched him go with a frown beneath his mask.

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awkward-lesbian-writer · 7 years ago

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Sarah Lyons x Female Lone Wanderer Christmas Fanfic

(This is probably not as good I as I hope but I started this at 3:30am and I’m tired lol, I am currently writing this part at 4:45am but anyways...on to the fanfic!)

It was December 25th 2277 and it was Lissandra's first Christmas outside of Vault 101. She wasn't sure if she should be glad she managed to live this long or sad. She had lost her father over the course of months but managed to find Madison Li, the woman her mother wanted to be her Godmother. She defeated the Enclave and with the Lyon's Pride Brotherhood of Steel and currently resided at The Citadel. The Citadel, regardless of the fact that everyone was soldiers, was actually a lot more lively than the Vault.

Sure the Overseer would organize a Vault wide party in their atrium but here, everyone was laughing and even drinking some pretty rancid stuff regardless if it was a holiday or not. Apparently one of the Scribes had made moonshine, she only knew of moonshine from the pre-war history books that had been in the Vault. A week prior they had each been given a name, they had to find a present for that person as some sort of game. She was pretty sure it was called Secret Santa, the adults played it in the Vault. She had drawn Sarah Lyons...okay that was a bit hard. If she had to described in four words, Lissandra would say: Woman shaped battering ram. The Power Armor the woman wore made her look smaller than she actually was.

It wasn't until the day after Fawkes, her rather intelligent Super Mutant friend/companion, turned on the purifier instead of Lissandra or Sarah sacrificing themselves, that she saw Sarah out of her armor. The Citadel had showers for women and men, in separate rooms of course, and Lissandra had gone there shortly after arriving and saw the older woman in nothing but a tank top and her Brotherhood issued pants. She wasn't even sure if woman shaped battering ram was fitting for her, she would love to see her try and arm wrestle Fawkes.

She managed to find to put together a pretty powerful laser rifle as an actual clean look canvas with intact and still slightly liquid paint, nothing a bit of water wouldn't fix. She first sketched out the Lyon's Pride symbol before painting it with Sarah's face on one side and her father's on the other side. She knew how important they were to one another, maybe not as close as Lissandra had been to James but they loved one another.

The 19 year old tipped the fine tipped brush into white paint before signing on the black background 'Lissandra' in the bottom right corner. Granted, they were suppose to do one present but it was after all her first Christmas outside the vault. She missed her friends, she missed Amata, she missed the safety of the Vault but at the same time didn't. She reached over and plucked a Fancy Lad Snake Cake from it's box and pealed the wrapping off it before popping the small cake into her mouth.

There was a knock on the door and before she could say anything, the door opened and she instantly turned the easel, she had also found with the canvas, around so it's back faced Owyn Lyons, Sarah's father. He chuckled and rubbed at his beard. "You get me?" She shook her head. "Sarah?" She remained quiet. "I won't tell her kid."

Lissandra swallowed the cake and nodded before turning it for him to see. "I already made her a new rifle but...I wanted to do more."

He looked impressed, speechless even. The girl mainly kept to herself, except for asking for a few missions here and there to earn some caps, they knew nothing other than she came from Vault 101, was James' daughter and was Madison's Goddaughter...not that Madison seemed to pay much attention to her. She took the silence to grab another snack cake, this time biting it in half. "You paint?"

"I did my fair share in the vault." Lissandra answered truthfully. "It's been maybe two years since I last picked up a paint brush." Speaking of which, she picked up the fine tipped brush and put it into the cup of water, swirling it around to clean the brush of the paint.

"Well I think she'll love it."

"I hope so." she laughed making him smile. "What can I do for you Elder?"

He looked confused before realizing he came here for a reason. "Oh." He looked at the pocket watch he carried. "It's seven forty-five. The party starts in fifteen. Trying to give everyone a heads up. Be in the common room at eight." She nodded and he left her room.

"Right." was all she could say as she looked at the painting.

Pulling her Vault suit up from where it hung at her waist and slid her arms in, pulling the zipper up to the middle of her chest and grabbed the wrapped rifle, it was in a box...there was no way in held she'd try to wrap it with out a box. Her father taught her to always find a box big enough if she believed she couldn't wrap the actual present. Looking at the canvas, she debated whether or not to quickly go find something to put it in but shook her head. No time. She tested several spots with her fingers to make sure it was dry and it was, her name drying quickly too.

The common room was about three minutes from her room, it got so loud in there sometimes that it used to keep her up but she was used to it now. She walked in and saw several BoS Soldiers sitting around, enjoying that fucking moonshine. She threw up the first time she drank it and had never heard Sarah laugh so hard before while trying to comfort the puking teen. She instantly went to her normal corner and sat down on a couch when Sarah walked in in nothing but a tank top and her standard issue BoS pants, she'd suggest it was a cold but the Capital Wasteland rarely got cold anymore since the Great War.

She was carrying a box and was laughing when one of the soldiers attempted to pass her a beer bottle re-purposed as a moonshine bottle. She waved her hand and said something along the lines of later. She looked at Lissandra and that smile turned bigger. She moved through the growing crowd of soldiers and stood on the other side of the table that Lissandra sat in front of. "You look pretty." she stated making the 19 year old knit her brows together. She looked pretty? She looked like she did every day just minus the smell of the wasteland.

"...uh...thanks?" she asked.

The Sentinel looked around and noticed people were already giving their presents. "Here." she put the box on the table making Lissandra realize they had gotten each other.

The young woman blinked several times before snapping out of whatever stupor she was in and put her box on the table before pushing it to Sarah. "I got you." she stated making the blonde snort with laughter. "Do you want that first or..." she raised the canvas up a bit that was backwards so Sarah couldn't see it yet.

"Oh!" she reached out for it making Lissandra hesitantly pass it to the older woman.

Once it was in the Sentinel's hands there was no going back. It was turned over and she saw those blue eyes taking in every inch of it. Her own hazel eyes looking nervous as she tried to figure out what expression she was reading. "Sentinel?"

Sarah opened her mouth but automatically shut it. It was a good solid and agonizing three minutes before those blue eyes looked up and locked with Lissandra's hazel eyes. "This is beautiful." she spoke making the Lone Wanderer's heart almost leap out her chest. "You did this?" The young woman nodded. She moved around the table and actually hugged the woman making her tense up and squeak as she felt those powerful arms wrap around her.

"Might wanna open your other gift before you put me in this bear hug." she managed.

"Alright but after, you're opening yours."

"Yes ma'am." chuckled the teen.

The wrapping paper wasn't proper wrapping paper. She took pages from old and destroyed books, she actually liked how it turned out. She watched as Sarah seemed to carefully take the wrapping off, maybe she wanted to read the pages? The top of the box was lifted off and inside was the laser rifle that took Lissandra two sleepless nights to get working. On both sides was the Lyon's Pride symbol painted on it. She picked it up and took some of the energy cells she put in the box into the gun before watching it light up as it activated.

She aimed and fired, the laser cutting a moonshine bottle directly in half and striking the wall, leaving a scorch mark in it's wake. Everyone jumped at the sound of the bottle breaking, mainly from the top of the bottle hitting the ground and shattering rather than the laser cutting it in half. "I tested it on super mutants, it's very efficient." she stated as Sarah ejected the energy cell.

"You're amazing, you know that." she spoke tilting her head to the side making a blush appear on the young woman's cheeks. "You found this?"

"M-Made it. I made it."

"Alright, amazing is an understatement." she sat her gun down gently and smacked the younger of the two hard on the back. "Your turn."

Right, it was wasn't it? She noticed the wrapping on her present was posters, possibly pre-war posters at that. She undid them gently and lifted the top off to see a leather jacket that made her think of Tunnel Snakes, fucking Tunnel Snakes, but her eyes locked on the yellow 101 stitched into the back making her pull it out and smile. The jacket Butch gave her when she left had been warm and this felt about the right weight. She shifted and slid it on before smiling as she tugged the sleeves up a bit to her elbows, the sleeves of her Vault suit sticking out.

The blonde tugged on it a bit before smiling. "Guess that kid at Rivet City was right about your size."

Wait what? "Kid? What kid?"

"Butch I think. He said he knew you when he heard me mention your name. Admitted to bullying you when you were younger, almost broke his nose but he managed to say you two were friends now."

Where they friends now? She'd have to go to Rivet City and see what he was doing there? Sure she sided with Amata to keep Vault 101 open but she didn't expect anyone to leave or at least leave and go that far. Rivet City took Lissandra about a fully day to reach due to all the Super Mutants, Raiders, and creatures that wanted to kill her. She looked back in the box and saw a framed photos that made her heart nearly stop. One was of herself with her father, having been taken by Jones a few months before James left the Vault, the second was a photo of her father with her mother, and the third was her mother's favorite biblical saying. The last time she saw these three photos, they had been in her father's room and office back in the Vault.

She picked up the photo of herself and her father, her thumb rubbing across the glass. "How?"

"I went to your Vault after getting the jacket by Butch made. He said the current Overseer would know what else to give you. Some of the inhabitants were not friendly but that Amata, sweet girl." Lissandra knew she was a sweet girl and when she was younger, she had a crush on her best friend up until she was 18 but had she been sweet the day she told Lissandra she could never be apart of the Vault again? That hurt more than anything. She helped Amata take control of the Vault from her father and was told that there was no longer a place for her to stay in the Vault.

Fawkes being the gentle soul he was, carried a distraught Lissandra back to the Citadel. Her mind wasn't in a right place to fight anything or anyone along the way. She stayed locked up in her room for several days, managing to eat what Sarah or some scribes dropped off for her. "Yeah." was all she could manage as Sarah stared at her. She moved and hugged her this time, arms slipping around her waist to return it.

"Mistletoe!" shouted someone making the two look to see a Scribe standing beside them and looked up, what looked like a paper mistletoe was being held above them. She had seen plastic ones in the Vault, maybe she could run to the Vault and ask Amata for one for next year if she remained with the Brotherhood.

The two looked at each other, Lissandra blushing as Sarah smirked. "I...no..." was all Lissandra managed to get out. She and Amata had "kissed" when they were eight, a quick peck on the lips as Butch teased them with a mistletoe...that sure shut him up. "I mean not that I wouldn't...I...I don't know what I mean but..."

She never finished her sentence before lips pressed against her own. They were slightly chapped but soft at the same time against her. She barely managed to catch the whistling of several Soldiers whistling at the sight of their Sentinel kissing their newest recruit. Sarah pulled away with a small wet noise before eyeing the young girl again, she put her left hand on the girl's cheek before leaning in and kissing her again. This kiss probably should've happened somewhere private cause next thing the 19 year old knew was there was a tongue pushing it's way into her mouth.

This was something she had never done before, properly kissing like this instead of a quick peck. The blonde's arm tightened around her waist, pulling their bodies together. Breasts against breasts and hips against hips, even though Sarah stood maybe an inch taller than Lissandra. Someone clapped beside the two making them pull apart and Sarah turned a pretty red as she saw her father standing there.

"You want to make out with our newest recruit, than take her to your bedroom." he chuckled making Sarah nod.

Lissandra lowered her head, her hair moving to shield her face as BoS men and women shouted words of encouragement but a few men said something inappropriately that made Sarah hugged her waist tightly, possessive almost. Her father shouted something to make them shut up as the blonde lifted the younger woman's head and pressed their foreheads together.

She saw the Lone Wanderer's expression and smiled. "Ignore them." she whispered. "Ignore them and focus on me." Sarah saw Lissandra run her tongue along her bottom lip, wetting it most likely. "You're the best gift I could've been given this year." There was a look of surprise on the other woman's face. "I mean, if we're...I assumed..."

Lips pressed against Sarah's quickly. "No you didn't assume." she chuckled. "I've liked you since we met on my way to Galaxy Radio. Regardless to the fact you were a bit of a hard ass but I...I felt something. So you're also the best gift I could've been given this year. After this shitty fucking year I had, you're my silver lining. So does that mean we're...?"

"You're my girlfriend. On December twenty-fifth, we became girlfriends. Remember that." she stated cupping Lissandra's face.

A smile formed on her face. Would her father approve? Sarah's father seemed to. Hell would Madison approve? That was all that mattered to her now. Aside from Sarah, Madison was the only other person she cared about. "Thank you." she whispered as tears slid down her cheeks.

Those power arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a comforting hug and she buried her face into Sarah's neck. She had lost her father and lost her home but she gained a girlfriend. "Let me know when you're okay, everyone will tease you for days if they see you crying." chuckled the blonde making a laugh erupt from the younger woman. She nodded and tightened her hold on Sarah.

They stayed like that for several moments, soldiers passing their gifts and alcohol back and forth. Sarah rested her chin on top of Lissandra's head and smiled towards her father who flashed a smile of his own and a thumbs up. He approved and to be honest, Sarah couldn't have chosen a better partner. "I love you." was all the young woman said.

"I love you too." whispered the Sentinel.

When asked Lissandra would admit that even though she had been exiled from her home and lost her father, this Christmas wasn't as bad as she thought it would be. Sarah made everything better from day one. She'd openly state that she would never wish to return to Vault 101, she was happy with Sarah. She was happy being her girlfriend and eventual fiancee. Even though she was parent-less, she wouldn't trade this life for anything because she was loved and cared for by the most important person in her life, Sentinel Sarah Lyons.

(Note: SARAH LIVES IN MY FALLOUT 4 FANFIC CAUSE REASONS! Mainly I hate Maxson and I like the headcanon that Maxson over threw her to take control over the Prydwen but instead of Sarah dying, she was left for dead and Lissandra vows to take revenge on Maxson but that'll happen in my main Fallout 4 fanfic...whenever I post it lol)

#Sarah Lyons #Female Lone Wanderer #I love Sarah x Lone Wanderer #I wanted to romance her so bad DX #Sarah was the Elder we deserved #Lissandra has been gay for Sarah since day one lol #....Lissandra's been gay for years but you know what i mean

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distractedrighter · 5 months ago

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Salt and Vinegar, Chapter 7: Return of the Tunnel Snakes

Universe: Fallout 3

Pairing: f!Lone Wanderer x Butch DeLoria

Rating: M

Prompt: Felicity escapes Vault 101 in pursuit of her father, and her childhood bully follows suit. A reimagining of Fallout 3, but if Butch was by the Lone Wanderer’s side the entire time.

Chapter Summary: Felicity and Butch make their way to Galaxy News Radio.

Warnings: Explicit language, descriptions of corpses, threats of violence/bodily harm, (and non-con if you squint), violence, death

Tags/Tropes: Enemies to friends to lovers, there was only one bed, angst, emotional hurt/comfort

#fallout #fallout 3 #butch deloria #mine: salt and vinegar #butch x lone wanderer #lone wanderer #lone wanderer x butch #butch fallout 3 #butch fallout #fallout 3 butch #lone wanderer fo3 #female lone wanderer #the lone wanderer #fallout 3 moira #sarah lyons #sarah lyons fo3 #sarah fo3

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reginaldbelchhuggins-blog · 7 years ago

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The Short and Miserable Romance of Victor Criss

Chapter 5: Last Kiss

Pairings: Henry x Victor, with some side Butch x Mrs Criss Rating: M Warnings for this chapter: Implied/referenced character death, bullying, implied/referenced violence,

Implied/referenced domestic abuse, period-typical attitudes, homophobic language, noncon elements, underage sex, underage drinking, violence, and child abuse Warnings for later chapters: Violence, homophobia, racism, and sexism that are all period-typical; canon-standard content; underage sex, smoking, and drinking; noncon elements (but no actual noncon); canonical character death; major character death; strong language Chapters: [1], [2], 3, [4], [5], [6], [7] Ao3: [x] Summary:

Told from Victor's perspective, each chapter details either a first or last moment of Vic's growing relationship with Henry Bowers as they navigate homophobia, mental issues, and the growing influence of It. The first two chapters are pre-1988, the middle two will be where the sex is, and the final two are where the romance goes south

Chapter 7 could act as a stand-alone told from Henry’s perspective

Story prompt: The first and last Meeting/Kiss/Time of your OTP

A/N: I had a completely different version of this chapter up on Ao3 until my roommate was able to properly edit it. This is the new version:

June 1989

The summer sun was bearing down on the town, making everything hot, and everyone sticky. The people who weren’t inside found themselves drifting to Bassey Park, where picnics were being had, or the field behind the Tracker Bros, where one could win $20, if they were lucky, on a game of scratch ball.

The three teens found themselves somewhere in between, near the Derry Community House, standing around the large trees and monuments, not really feeling like doing anything; the fourth was lying belly-down on the grass, kicking his feet like he did when he was five and was scribbling out a picture for his mother. The slightest breeze caught their shirts or hair every now and then, but it was the treats they were munching on that was keeping them cool.

Belch and Patrick both had ice cream, but were experiencing it in vastly different ways. Belch was taking big, slurping licks from a two scoop cone with vanilla and chocolate, making it swirl on his tongue. His was truly a race against time and gravity to catch every drop as it melted, but so far, he hadn’t missed a single one. Patrick had made the smarter choice of a plastic bowl over a cone, but he sat there and watched it melt. Once it was effectively just cream, his tongue snaked out of his mouth in short little bursts, lapping it up. He rested his chin on his hands, laced beneath it, elbows far enough apart his neck barely moved as he dipped low enough to drink comfortably.

For Victor, his treat was an orange soda. He’d gotten used to the feeling of his braces, but was more aware of them with every sip than he’d been since he got them.

No soda without a straw, but I’d prefer none at all, the Dentist had said. Well, fuck him. It was hot outside, and food just didn’t seem that tempting.

Swallowing a mouth full of metal corroding orange flavored acid, Victor leaned against the tree in such a way his bangs were covering most of his face. He stood like this on purpose, so that he could watch Henry eating a Rocket Pop without being too obvious.

Henry’s mouth had turned red from sucking and nibbling on the tip of it. It was both beautiful and obscene. Unaware that he had an audience, Henry took the pop down halfway through the white portion, slurped up some of the melted juice, and then bit off the remainder of the red as he pulled it out. Even as his face contorted when brain freeze struck, it was filling Vic's belly with a dangerous warmth, and his mind with dangerous ideas.

"Can I have a sip of that?” Patrick asked. Vic made a Hmm sound as he turned to look at the boy who spoke. It took Victor a few moments to realize what he was talking about.

Patrick, not waiting for an answer, crossed his arms in front of his chest and rolled over. Now at Victor’s feet, his opened his mouth wide. Vic tipped his drink until a cautiously-sized stream was pouring down. It fell perfectly between Patrick's lips, hitting the back of his throat with an odd, but satisfying, sound. Patrick didn’t swallow, but let his mouth fill. When he'd had enough, he closed his mouth, his cheeks puffing as he pushed the liquid into them. He then rolled back over, and spat out every last drop into the bowl of cream.

“That’s gross,” Belch observed, with a flat tone. Victor giggled at Belch's delivery of the line.

“It’s just like a root beer float,” Patrick said, licking his lips. “Nothing like a good soda pop right into that tasty, tasty cream. Wouldn’t you agree, Vic?”

Henry's attention was sudden. He searched Vic, though for what, Vic didn't know. He turned it over in his mind, and found nothing overtly sexual or flirty – nothing that would’ve triggered some kind of jealousy or judgement. Instead of giving any insight, Henry scooted away from Vic a little bit, and went back to his Popsicle, his shoulders a little stiffer. It was a small thing, but Vic felt it like a punch to the stomach.

Belch made a smacking noise as he took a bite out of his cone. “Even grosser,” he said, with a full mouth.

Like popping a balloon with a bullet, things were back to normal with sudden ferocity, with the exception of Henry’s demeanor. Patrick was back to lapping up his melted float, Belch was absently licking away, and Henry was trying to look cool, his one arm across his chest and his one leg propped against the tree. Victor sucked up the last of his soda, and then scooted a little closer to Henry.

Henry pushed away from the tree, and started walking towards the trash. Vic stared after him, trying to figure out if it was on purpose or if it was a coincidence. The thought that he could've done something to make Henry want to avoid him was more stressful than Vic wanted to admit.

Stepping over Patrick, Henry headed towards the barrel the park used for a public trash. He looked in, and then dropped in his rocket pop. Absently, he kicked a ball of paper that someone had thrown beside the trash. It scampered across the grass and into Patrick, who looked like he was going to throw it, until he abruptly changed his mind.

Patrick began to unroll it, and smooth it out on the grass beside him. Vic recognized what it was before he even saw the familiar grayscale photo.

"Eddie Corcoran's missing poster," Belch said. Victor looked around, trying to locate the usual spots for the posters: the street lamp, the side of the outdoor restrooms, the buildings in the distant... they were all bare.

Henry plucked another ball from the pile and opened it up. Eddie's face stared up at him from that one, too. And the next. Even the one after that. Henry dropped each poster after unrolling it, stopping only once there were at least seven on the ground around him.

"Who would throw these away?" Patrick asked.

"Does it matter?" Henry asked, void of emotion. "In a few days there's going to be a new face being hung up everywhere, and nobody'll care about these assholes anymore."

"Yeah, but that ain't right," Belch said.

"Doesn't matter if it's right," Henry's voice was sharp, almost angry. It left no room for argument. "It's what's going to happen. Just like the Stuttering Freak's little brother and everyone else. They're gonna care for a few hours, and that's it."

Patrick's leg was cocked in the air, frozen mid-swing. He stared at Eddie's sideways photo, tracing the edges with his finger.

"What do you think it's like?" He asked, his fingers working out a stubborn wrinkle across Eddie's face. "Dying, I mean."

Belch'S face blanched, and his shoulders fell, as if someone had placed weights, heavy , even for him, across them.

"Maybe death came so fast they didn’t notice," Victor suggested, not knowing what else to say.

Victor didn't think about death often, not even with it happening all around them. When he did think of it, it was some far away thing. He knew it was coming, and he had some ideas about how it might happen, but it wasn't something he expected to be waiting around the corner at age 15. None of them did.

Henry was staring at the ground, his lips pressed together in a thin line. It was his give away that he was uncomfortable with the subject.

"It's just funny," Patrick said, a little laugh breaking up his words. "To think you could be living your last day on Earth, and not know it."

"SHUT UP PATRICK!" It was Belch who snapped. "Jesus crow, can we just talk about anything else?"

Victor wasn’t frightened when Belch raised his voice. But Henry stepping forward, quiet, staring at Belch with a wide-eyed glare was enough to send a shiver down Vic’s spine. Instead of snapping back, or yelling, Henry’s voice lifted up, calm, cool, and casual.

“Hey, so, a salesman is driving to his home from a long trip when he sees this Indian on the side of the road, thumbing for a ride. A little lonely, he stops the car and the Indian gets in. After a bit of small talk, the Indian notices a brown bag on the front seat.

“‘What’s in the bag?’ he asks.

“The salesman says, ‘it’s a bottle of wine. I got it for my wife.’

“The Indian is silent for a moment, and then says, ‘good trade.’”

It takes a few seconds for it to register that Henry had just told a joke. Not because he didn’t tell them often, but due more to the emotional residue of their previous topic of conversation. When it finally does hit them, Patrick is the first to laugh. High-pitched and full of such glee, his laugh draws out the one from Vic, given in equal parts nervousness and amusement. Belch is last, but laughs so hard tears build up in his eyes.

“Wait wait, I got a good one—”

As Belch told the story of the Traveling Salesman and the Farmer’s Daughter, a vaguely familiar form came wiggling through Vic's line of sight about a block behind Belch. He almost looked away, thinking nothing of it. But something held his eyes, told him to really look.

Squinting and shielding his eyes from the sun, Vic saw that sure enough, who Vic thought it was was exactly who it was: the chubby little new kid who refused to help Henry with the test. Things clicked into place for Victor in that moment.

Henry and Patrick were howling at Belch’s joke. Belch broke out into a huge smile, pleased with himself. When Vic started speaking, though, they all seemed to know it was for something different, and more exciting.

"Hey, Hank, I spy with my little eye something round and due for payback," Vic said, gesturing with his head. Henry looked in that direction. He didn’t smile with his mouth, but his eyes became clear, sparkling with that glint of mischief. When he looked back at Victor, there was warmth, even pride.

“Let’s get ‘im,” Patrick said, standing up. His lighter was already in his hand. His voice was soft, nearly a whisper, as he said, “I got something I want to show him.”

“Hold on, he’s going into the library,” Henry said, his tone thoughtful. He bit off his thumbnail chewing on it as the gears turned in his head. “I got a plan.”

Everything happened so fast, it felt like it wasn’t real.

They had waited for Tits Hanscom – whatever his real name was – to emerge from the library. When they pounced, Vic took his left arm, and Belch took his right. They lifted all 190 pounds of him off the ground. As they carried him to the kissing bridge, they passed him around, tormenting him. Patrick pulled Tits’ shirt over his head, and Vic drummed on his meaty stomach. Then Vic was dragging him, and Patrick was digging his boot into Tits’ ass.

The kid wasn’t having fun, but they were. They didn’t even feel slightly guilty about it, either. Not until later, when they'd head time to really think about what it was leading up to.

The closer they got to the canal, the less Victor felt like he was in control. It wasn’t his choice to press Tits into the kissing bridge and hold him there – it was just something he was doing. When Patrick was setting off fireballs with his can of hairspray and lighter, Victor should've stepped forward and smacked it out of his hands, but something held his legs in place. When Henry was pulling out his knife, Victor saw, but he didn't comprehend.

Henry wouldn't really hurt the kid, Victor believed at the time. He knew better now.

If Vic had realized Henry was dragging his knife across Tits’ skin, he didn't realize it was actually cutting.

But he didn’t want to think about that. He also didn’t want to think about how Henry's face had twisted and contorted until it was Butch's face. Spittle flying from his mouth, his voice sounding raw as he screamed, “Shut uuup!”

The look on Belch’s face had jarred Vic back to reality. He’d never seen Belch scared before, and he never wanted to see it again.

Leveling a dark look at Henry, Victor loosened his grip on the New Kid's arm; Belch saw, and followed suit. The New Kid dug his sneaker into Henry's gut, and used it as a spring board to flip backwards, his arms slipping freely from the two. He somersaulted over the railing, and hit the ground, rolling down the hill at the bottom of the bridge, and into the Barrens.

Vic hung back as Henry leaped after him, followed by a howling Patrick. He and Belch exchanged a glance that contained multiple conversations: Were they okay with this? No. What had they been doing, exactly? They didn’t know. Was Henry really going to carve his whole name into someone’s cottage cheese? Sure looked like it. Were they going to let Henry and Patrick catch the kid? Fuck no.

On that, they were over the edge too, kicking up dirt as they tried to keep their balance on the descent, watching Henry failing and falling only a few feet ahead of them—

That had been hours ago.

“PATRICK! PATRICK HOCKSTETTER!” Officer Conley shouted, his hands cupped over his mouth.

Vic was ankle deep in Derry’s shit water, a flashlight in one hand as he reached into the area below the sewer drain, trying to find the shiny thing Belch had spotted. He scooped out a handful of slimy dirt, and rinsed it in the stream. It wasn’t Patrick’s lighter, but someone else’s. Belch tapped Vic’s shoulder, and as the blond stood, he handed it over so Belch could see.

“Not his,” Belch said. He walked off, joining the two Officers Butch had assigned to them, not really believing that Patrick hadn't run away, or the story of just how things came to be. Belch’s voice broke through the night air high-pitched and sounding more scared than Vic had ever heard it before as he searched the underbrush. “PATRICK!”

Victor felt tired in a way that transcended his physical existence. Patrick had been armed. Then, when Henry split them up, he sent Belch with Patrick – Belch, the biggest, and strongest, of them all.

The odds were in their favor. Yet, somehow, Patrick was just gone. The Pervert had gotten around the flame thrower, gotten around Patrick's sharp eyes and rabbit-punches, and snatched him away to do God-knows-what to him before killing him.

And it was Vic's fault.

If he hadn't pointed out Tits to Henry, or wasted their time burying Henry's knife...

Using the dry part of his arm, Vic wiped some sweat from his brow, and then raised the light to look down into the sewer pipe. He thought he’d heard something splashing, but the water appeared undisturbed.

It didn’t smell like sewer – it smelled like rotten Earth. Pungent and sharp, Victor found himself thinking of Henry’s basement. Or more specifically, of the thing at the bottom of the stairs. The thing he never quite saw, but had known was there. He knew it the same as any child knew something was under their bed, or lurking in their closet. He could feel it watching him.

He didn’t see it again sitting in the bushes across the Kenduskeag, moments before Belch came thundering up towards them, his face red. He had begun to see it, though. Digging deep into his memories, he could almost make out the shape and color of it. Something... silver. With orange polka dots. Polka dots? No. Not polka dots: pompoms. Big orange pom poms in a crooked row down its chest—

“Hey, what are you doing?”

A light struck the wall and Vic jumped back, startled by a movement in his peripheral. For just a moment, he swore he saw it again, moving faster than his eyes could comprehend. He swung his own flashlight around, and then let out a puff of breath.

Jumped at his own shadow is what he’d done.

Feeling stupid, Victor turned his light over to see who was at the opening of the sewer. He wasn't sure whether he was relieved or not to see Henry.

He started walking back towards his boyfriend. He’d been so lost in his thoughts, he had somehow crossed nearly seven feet of sewage without realizing he was moving at all. Henry didn’t move the light from Vic, aiming it low so Vic could see where he was stepping. He did click it off when Vic was sliding out of the pipe, but only so he could stick it in his pocket and take Vic’s instead.

When fresh air struck Vic's face, he had to roll his eyes at himself again. How he could’ve mistaken that smell for something Earthen was beyond him, because he definitely smelled like shit. The pipe smelled like shit. Everything smelled like shit. It was in his nose.

"Why are you alone?" Henry asked, his voice tilting on the side of anger over concern. Victor looked around, realizing everyone had moved downstream. Henry waited for Vic to grasp the situation before grabbing Vic's neck roughly, digging his fingers in the back. A small, pained noise escaped as Henry pulled him in close. Close enough to kiss. "God dammit, Vic. That is exactly what got Patrick killed!”

“Let go of me, asshole!” Victor wanted to yell. His hands were even on their way up to plant themselves against Henry’s shoulders and shove him back, emphasizing his words. Instead, he took two fistfuls of Henry’s shirt, and pressed his face into it. Henry’s fingers loosened, letting him.

Henry’s shirt didn’t smell like sewer, or Earth. It smelled like suave soap, and Henry’s natural scent, strong from him sweating all day, unbarred by deodorant. Victor felt dizzy as he drew in a deep whiff, trying not to cry.

He loved that smell more than anything in the world. It made him feel safe, secure… loved…

“I’m sorry,” Victor said, closing his eyes, wanting to drift away like he’d done earlier. "I thought I saw something."

"If he was running away for some reason, seems like a good place to hide," Henry said. He was contemplating something, making his words slow. "But if he's hiding down there, he's going to have to wait. You go in there without a map and you'll starve to death before anyone'd find you.”

Victor sighed. “I know.”

“Vic,” Henry said, he voice falling into a cautious tone. "Were you and Patrick... did you guys... did he..."

Henry never finished any of his sentences, but he didn't need to. Vic's brow furrowed. He pulled back from Henry just enough to try and read his face in the dark.

"No," Victor let out a soft laugh. Henry wasn't laughing, though. When he looked at Vic, he was more serious than Victor had ever seen him. "Wait, do you really think I'd cheat on you?"

Henry shrugged. Vic waited on some kind of elaboration. When none came, he abruptly pulled away from Henry, anger bubbling up inside. Vic didn't know what he was going to do, but his hands were clenching into fists, and he had words forming in his mouth to throw at Henry for thinking that Victor would ever do that to him. Then Henry looked up, his ears twitching like a rabbit listening to the predator growing closer. Vic’s reflexes told him to shut up and step away. Henry shined the light across the stream, searching the underbrush for whatever made the noise that drew his attention. In one moment, they realized there was nothing there; in the next, they knew that was wrong. There was something there, they just couldn't see it. In the darkness, Henry looked calm, but Vic could feel Henry squeezing in fear as their hands closed around each other’s.

Soon, they were moving to catch up to everyone else. Or, more accurately, to get away from that area and the sewer pipe, and the feeling of being watched. Henry's legs were taking long strides, and Vic was in a near jog, the two boys were side-by-side, slapping mosquitos off their arms whenever they felt a tickle. As Henry started to veer off, and the distance between them grew, Victor found himself dwelling on Henry's words. When he looked at Henry, he felt love, sure. But there was now a pettiness. He thought of nasty things to say, and nasty things he could do, to make Henry feel even slightly the way he'd made Victor feel.

Him and Patrick? Really? It wasn't that Patrick wasn't attractive, but it was that Henry thought so little of Victor. As if Victor didn't tell him every moment he could that he loved Henry. As if Victor didn't go out of his way to do things that made Henry happy, even if they weren't exactly Victor's favorite thing. As if Victor was the one cruising around with girls, fucking girls only hours before fucking Henry, and not the other way around.

That Henry could even justify that thought for a second didn't just make him angry. It made Victor want to destroy things. He settled for kicking some kid's lost and dingy teddy bear as they came across it.

Henry’s voice was harsh, whispering, "From now on, you don't go anywhere alone. I don't care if it's to get the fucking mail, you fucking get someone to stand guard." His voice cracked as he said, "I can't lose you, too."

"Sure, Hank," Vic answered, spitting out each word.

"Hey, I'm serious. This isn't just some bullshit. If that guy can get Patrick, you don't stand a fuckin' chance," Henry said. So Vic repeated himself, "Sure."

Henry walked close enough to cup Victor’s chin, tilting his head up. Vic knew it was coming, and though he was tempted to jerk his head away, he didn't stop it. Henry brought their lips together. Victor wanted to enjoy it, to kiss back, but he wanted his anger more. His emotions were a jumbled up mess that needed sorting, and kisses were just complicating things.

The message wasn't getting through. Henry kissed Victor's unresponsive lips like there wasn't anything different than normal. Victor wasn't sure if he was being irrational or not, but that made him even angrier. So he pretended to be listening to something behind them. Henry looked around when he noticed. Victor waited a few moments, and then started walking away, pulling himself free from Henry's grip easily. He heard Henry start to follow after a brief pause. They shared no more words, and when they caught up with everyone else, Vic's anger turned into sadness, and then, fatigue.

Vic went to Belch's side, and stayed there the remainder of the night. He was not giving Henry a chance to influence his thoughts before he had a chance to know what they were himself.

The adults called off the search. Officer Nell took Victor to his house, surprising both Belch and Henry, who watched him climb into the police cruiser without saying as much as a goodbye. The minute he got home, he knew he was alone. Mama wasn't there. Papa wasn't there. Hell, even Victor wasn't 100% certain he was all there. Feeling that anger resurface, Victor grabbed the Louisville slugger by the back door, and the Precious Moments figurines from the hall cabinet. With only moonlight to help him see, Vic tossed the figurines in the air, and, one by one, either sent them flying across the yard to shatter on the fence, or pulverized them into dust on the concrete porch when he missed.

When he was out of figurines, he took the bat to the clay planters. His Mama hadn't planted flowers in forever, so they were empty, and easy to break.

Finally, Vic took out the family photos. He sent the little frame his his fourth grade school picture across the fence and into the neighbor's yard. He broke the glass across his parents wedding photo, and then set it on fire with some matches. He put a crack in every frame still hanging on the wall, especially those of his dad.

Tired, he passed up leftover meatloaf for two spoons of peanut butter, and then collapsed, fully dressed, onto his bed. The phone rang on two separate occasions, but Vic didn't move. He laid there, staring up at the ceiling, hoping that some kind of epiphany would hit him.

It didn't.

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