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musings-of-a-rose · 22 days ago

Note

Hi, just wanted to say that I love your work! Especially with Benny and Frankie so much that I have an idea for Benny! Female reader (not picky about the name) meets Benny at a bar days after she catches her now ex-boyfriend cheating on her and they hook up at his place, but she leaves before he wakes up. She later finds out she's pregnant but doesn't tell anyone who the father is. Months later while still pregnant, her friends convince her to come with them to see a MMA fight and low and behold Benny is there fighting. He doesn't see her at first, but when the fight ends (which he wins) he sees her and she leaves abruptly while hiding her stomach since she's wearing baggy clothing. However, Benny manages to catch up to her, where she reveals the news to him. They then talk some more at her place where he reveals to her that she's been on his mind ever since that night and begins the start of something new.

One Night Can Change Everything

Pairing: Benny Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 6400+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: Rea is a general nickname for a “reader” character that @mermaidxatxheart came up with and I think that’s genius! This is not beta’d.

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❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Benny Miller Masterlist

“Ok, that’s it. I’m making you get out of this bed now,” My best friend Sage declares as she towers over my bed, where I have lived for the past several days. Ever since I caught my boyfriend sleeping with my co-worker. Co-workerS.

Ex-boyfriend now, I suppose.

I groan, attempting to roll over but Sage grabs my shoulder and flips me back over, digging her fingers lovingly into my skin. “I love you Rea, I do. But you have to get out of this bed. He’s not worth it.”

She’s right. I know she is. But we had been dating for nearly 2 years, mostly. It was on and off, but we had talked about marriage, kids, all of it. I thought he would be my forever but apparently, I was his “for now”.

Fuck this asshole.

I sit up quickly, nearly colliding with Sage, and yank the covers off me, determination flooding my veins, choking out the hurt. For now, at least.

“Alright, alright. I’m up.”

Sage points to the bathroom. “First, please take a shower. Then we’re going to Mick’s.”

I’d almost forgotten about Mick’s, Sage’s favorite bar. Probably because it’s full of rugged, blue-collar men and Sage definitely has a type. Not that I can blame her.

“Ok, but I’m just going for you. And science.”

Sage snorts. “Sure, Rea. Sure. Don’t forget to shave.”

—--------------

An hour later and I’m walking into Mick’s front door, loud music vibrating through me. It’s busy, but I’ve seen it busier and we manage to snag a couple of stools at the bar. Within 10 minutes, Sage is led to the dance floor by some burly lumberjack, complete with flannel shirt and all. I throw my hand up in the air in a “what about me” motion as she glances behind her, shrugging and gesturing around the room before focusing all of her attention on the flannel clad bear of a man in front of her, who is surprisingly agile. I turn back to the bar, taking my hand off the top of my glass, tossing the last of the liquid down my throat, coughing slightly at the burn. I set my glass down, my finger trailing along the rim, wondering if I should call an Uber or wait for my friend, when a man slides in next to me, flagging down the bartender.

“5 beers, please.” His voice has a slight drawl to it, his tone warming me all over.

“Seems a lot for one man.” Where the hell did that courage come from?

The man, clad in a button up light blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up that opens to reveal a camo print shirt, turns his head to me and for what feels like days, I’m rendered speechless. This man is gorgeous - a sloping nose, sandy blonde hair that flips out from behind his backward hat, some patchy facial hair, and the most intensely blue eyes I’ve ever seen. They glance quickly down my body and back up, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Ain’t all for me, sweetheart. Got a table full of impatient assholes waiting for a beer.”

I cock my head to the side. “You lose a bet or something?”

The man tips his head back and laughs, his shoulders shaking with it and I feel my body tingle. I could listen to that sound forever.

“How the hell did you know that?” His smile is wide, all of his attention on me, his eyebrows raised in question.

I shrug. “I’d send the guy who lost a bet to get the first round, at least.”

He chuckles. “Smart girl…I’m Ben. Friends call me Benny.”

I tell him my name. “But my friends call me Rea.”

“I like that. Nice to meet you, Rea.” He sticks his hand out to shake mine, but before I can, 4 beers slide in front of him and he glances down at them, his shoulders dropping ever so slightly.

Finding courage from somewhere, I lay my hand on his forearm and have to resist squeezing. “You have to go back so soon?”

He smiles again, the skin around his eyes crinkling with it. “Nah, sweetheart. I’ll be right back. Promise me you’ll wait right here?” There go the eyebrows again, pulling together and making him look like a puppy. Fuck I am so screwed.

“I’ll be waiting.”

He hesitates for a brief second before taking my hand and kissing the back of it. “Now that’s something to make a man move fast.” He winks, grabs the four beers, and heads off into the crowd, making his way towards the back of the room. Hate to see him leave, but damn I’m loving watching him go, his 6’3 frame easily visible over the crowd. He drops off the beers somewhere at the back of the room, turning quickly to push his way back through the crowd, his eyes locking on mine and giving me a sly smile.

“You waited.” He slides back into the barstool next to me as I pull my leg from it, the universal gesture for this is saved.

Fuck his eyes are so blue. “You came back.”

A smile plays at the corner of his lips. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

I look down for a moment, my mind going back to my ex and all of his cheating, making me feel less than. Benny seems to sense something, his large hand hesitating a moment before he gently squeezes my arm. “You ok?”

I shake my head, my eyes locking back on his blues. “Yeah. I’m great now you’re here.”

Benny is easy to talk to, fun, and flirty. He’s in Delta Force, or was, with his actual brother, one of the men that he’d owed a beer to earlier. We talk about everything and anything, Benny eventually pulling me to the dance floor and whisking me about, sometimes dancing and other times being silly and smiling when I laugh. After several songs, we need a break, managing to snag a couple of stools at the bar, sipping on a couple of drinks.

“So you live local?” He asks me, taking another swig from his beer.

I nod. “Yeah. I don’t typically come here, but my friend Sage dragged me out of the house.”

“Well remind me to thank her. She here?”

“Actually,” I turn and look out at the crowd for several moments, finally seeing her in the back corner, making out with Flannel Bear Man. I chuckle. “Yeah, she’s a little occupied.”

Benny chuckles, taking another swig of his beer, his free hand hesitating a moment before landing on my bare thigh, just above my knee. “Well I can keep you company.”

His warm hand against my skin has my brain short-circuiting. I can’t think of what to say so I return his question. “Are you local?”

He nods, his thumb slowly rubbing circles across my skin. “Yeah. But some water main or somethin’ broke in my building. They put us all up in hotels until they fix it. Burst a few pipes.”

“Oh no! Is your stuff ok?” I place my hand over his on my leg, giving it a little squeeze and move it further up my thigh, heat immediately rushing to an area not far from where his hand is.

He clears his throat. “Uh, y-yeah. Well, I had some water damage but didn’t lose anythin’ big. They just have to put down new floors.”

The music volume suddenly goes up by several volumes, turning the place into a mini club. Benny winces and I can see that it triggers him, the loud sounds and people becoming a little much. I lean in closer to his ear, gently rubbing circles into the back of his hand.

“It’s too fucking loud! Wanna get out of here?” I pull my head back to look at him, our faces only an inch apart. His eyes flit between mine, briefly pausing on my lips.

“If you’re sure, hell yeah.”

I smile and he returns it before I lean back into his ear. “Let me flag my friend down and let her know. Stay right here so I don’t lose you.”

He turns his head, his nose brushing against my cheek. “I’ll be right here.” Hating that I have to move, I gently place his hand on his thigh and give him a wink before turning, scanning the corner where I had last seen Sage. She’s still there, Flannel Bear Man sucking on her neck. I force my way through the crowd and eventually emerge in front of her. Sage’s gaze takes a moment to settle on me.

“Rea! Where’ve you been?” She yells above the music.

I gesture to where I came from. “At the bar. Waiting for you.”

She gasps as Flannel Bear Man starts to bite her skin. “S-sorry, Rea. I-”

I cut her off, not wanting to intrude any longer. “No worries. I’m getting out of here. With a guy. I’ll get an Uber.”

Sage reaches out and grips my wrist, breaking the suction from Flannel Man who only seems to just realize I’m standing here.

“A guy? You found someone? Do you need condoms?”

“Sage! I have to go!”

“Wait!” She pulls her clutch from somewhere and digs around in it, quickly sliding a few foiled square packages in my hand. “ Remember, it’s just a rebound. Don’t get attached. Have fun and be safe!”

I can’t help the heat in my cheeks, but I tuck the condoms in my bag. “Thanks. I’ll ping you my location.”

Sage releases my wrist and smiles at me before I turn back to Benny, shoving my way through more bodies on the dance floor. I emerge on the other side and see him still sitting where I left him, hat turned backward and looking so fucking hot.

This is all so unlike me, but I like Benny. Sage’s words echo through my head “it’s just a rebound. Have some fun.”

I walk up to Benny and he turns his head, standing and giving me a wide smile. “Ready to go, sweetheart?”

I nod and he offers me his hand, which I happily accept, his touch warming me all over as he guides us through the crowd and out the front door, the volume immediately decreasing the moment the door closes behind us.

“Now I can hear myself think!” Benny chuckles as he pulls my hand to his lips, lightly brushing them against my knuckles, his puppy dog eyes on mine. “Did you drive?

“Hhhm? Oh, uh no. Uber.”

Benny nods. “I have my jeep. I can drive us somewhere? Unless you’d feel safer using Uber?”

I study him for a moment, deciding that I trust him. “I love Jeeps.”

He smiles, his grip on my hand tightening slightly as he directs me to the parking lot, chatting a little too fast about his Jeep, like he’s nervous. He helps me into the passenger side, sliding across the hood to make it to the driver’s side quicker, smiling at my laugh. He starts the Jeep and gets the ac started before turning to me.

“Where to?”

It’s just a rebound. Have fun. “I’d love to see your hotel.”

His eyebrows raise, that same smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah? You don’t have to. I mean, we could just get a burger or somethin’.”

I look down at my hands in my lap. Did I misread the signals? He was definitely coming on to me, right? I wasn’t reading into that? Before I can spiral further, Benny puts his hand over mine. “Hey, look. I like you and think you’re fucking hot as hell and would love to take you to my room to uh, show you the room. But I don’t want to presume or make you feel obligated or anything.”

I would choose a fucking gentlemen for a rebound. Fuck. I close my hand over his and meet his eyes. “Thanks, Benny. I don’t want to push you or presume either.”

He chuckles once, removing his hand to put his Jeep in reverse and then back into drive. “Sweetheart, you can take advantage of me any day.”

That breaks the awkwardness and has us laughing, falling back into conversation easily as Benny navigates through traffic. Gently, I lay his hand on my bare thigh again, wrapping my hand over his. He’s talking about something, I honestly can’t focus because he’s started to move, his fingers tracing slow lines across my skin as his hand moves further up my leg, getting closer to where I desperately want him to be. We hit a red light and the Jeep goes quiet, Benny turning to look at me as he slides his hand further up, his pinkie finger just barely tracing the crease of my thigh, heat and wet pooling just beyond his touch. My lips part and I let out a gasp of air, my eyes finding his.

There’s a moment of hesitation but then I grip his shirt, pulling him towards me, our lips crashing together. He nips at my bottom lip and I gasp, Benny taking full advantage to slide his tongue into my open mouth, a small moan escaping me. His free hand leaves the steering wheel to grip the back of my head, holding me to him as he explores my mouth. The car behind us honks and we jump apart, the light having already turned green. Benny sticks his hand up to apologize to the car behind us, driving on, but immediately places his hand back on me, this time, his pinkie grazes up my panties and I squirm a little in my seat, not used to this much attention. He stills his movements.

“Is it too much?” He’s actually concerned.

“More like, not enough.”

Benny makes it to his hotel in record time.

Heated touches and kisses down the hallway has Benny dropping his room key a few times. As he tries to jam it into the lock, I slide my hands around him from behind, moving up his stomach from under his shirt and fuck he has a nice body, my hands moving lightly over his toned chest. He finally jams the key into the lock and flings the door open, tossing his keys on top of the dresser. He spins back around to face me, his eyes blown wide and dark with lust.

He swallows hard. “Are you…are you sure?”

I step close to Benny, gently take his wrist and turn his hand palm up. One hand still holding his, I open my bag and fish out one of the foil squares, and place the condom in Benny’s hand. He glances down at it before looking back at me, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“Rea, did you get a condom from your friend?”

I can feel the heat blooming in my cheeks. “No! I mean, technically yes but she-”

He cuts me off with his lips, one hand wrapped around my head and the other grips my hips, fingers digging into my skin as he pulls me flush against him. I can feel him hard beneath his jeans and I moan into his kiss, pressing myself against him so I can try to relieve some of the rapidly increasing hear between my thighs. He moves us and I feel the bed hit the back of my knees, but he holds me tighter before breaking the kiss. Both of us rip the shirts from our bodies, my bra quickly following. I reach for my pants but he grabs my wrists and stills them, his blue eys falling to my chest. He gently cups a boob and lightly pinches the nipple and I gasp, the small movement shooting straight between my legs.

Then Benny sinks to his knees, eye level with my pants. He pops open the button on my jeans, sliding them down my legs where I help him kick them off. His large fingers trace the outline of my panties, the heat pooling there as I gasp at his touch. He hooks his fingers into them and slides them down my legs too, his eyes locked on the space between my thighs.

“Fuck you’re beautiful,” he half whispers. A half chuckle escapes me before it turns into a moan as he slides his nose up my slit, bumping into my clit. He growls, using my hips to push me down on the bed, tossing my legs over his shoulders like it was nothing.

Which I have no time to think about because his mouth is on me, his hands on my inner thighs, pressing them further apart, widening his canvas. His tongue explores me, seeking all the areas that have me writhing under his firm grip. He somehow finds spots that I didn’t even know existed, sucking lightly, lapping, the coil of pleasure quickly tightening until a sound erupts from me, somewhere between a chant and a moan, my fingers gripping his hair to keep him in the same spot as he prolongs my release.

My head is in a blissful haze, but I manage a whine as he pulls away from me, taking his pants off when he does. I hear the sound of the condom opening and I watch him as he rolls the condom on himself. I lean up on my elbows to see better, because he’s gorgeous, not girthy but longer, and definitely not anywhere near a size I’ve had in me.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take my time.” I blink, looking up at his face and see that there’s a hint of concern there, like he wants to make sure I’m comfortable.

I scoot further up on the bed to give him more space. “Don’t worry about me. I can take you.”

His eyes darken and he grabs my ankle, yanking me back down towards the end of the bed. I squeal, my body heating up again as he lowers himself between my legs. He pauses, his eyes bright as he glances between my own.

“You’re so beautiful,” there’s that almost whisper voice again, his eyebrows pulling together so he looks like a puppy.

“So are you, Benny.” We take each other in for a few more moments, my body about to burst with all of the tension and hormones racing through it. “Now please fuck me, now.” I know I’m begging, but I don’t care.

And neither does Benny, apparently, as he smirks. “Yes ma’am.”

He slowly presses his hips forward and I let out a moan as he stretches me, pushing further and further in. I’m not sure how, but he bottoms out, dropping his head to my chest, breathing heavy for a moment.

“Fuck, you feel so good. Gimme a sec so I don’t blow my load like a teenager.”

I manage some sort of confirmation sound, but then a moment later, he slowly pulls out and presses back in, repeating this a few times so I can adjust to his length. It’s driving me mad and I writhe under him, feeling every inch of him as he slowly moves in and out of me. He pulls out, his hips pausing as he looks down at me and it’s like time stops. Just for a moment. Then his lips crash to mine as he pushes forward quickly, sliding into me in one fast movement and I cry out, my hands gripping his biceps, nails digging into his skin as his hips set a fast pace, his direction and speed adjusting to my moans of pleasure. Every time he pushes in, he hits a spot somewhere at the back of me, a place no one has touched, and it sends sparks through my vision, my entire body like a livewire as he pushes me towards the edge.

“Fuck, Benny, I’m gonna-” my body ignites, pleasure radiating out from my cunt, his name tumbling from my lips in praise, begging him to keep going, or stop, or do it again. I have no idea, my head so engulfed in pleasure.

“Fuck!” He yells, pressing into me one last time before he grunts, little pants and gasps tumbling from him. His head falls to my chest as he comes down.

We stay like that for several moments, trying to catch our breath. Eventually, Benny pulls out, tossing the condom in the trash can by the bed before rolling onto his back next to me.

“What’s your third favorite dinosaur?”

I laugh, my entire body moving with it as Benny joins in, tears running down our cheeks as my movements turn me towards him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been asked that question, let alone just after sex.”

Benny shrugs, smiling. “Had to break the tension and awkwardness somehow.”

“Well that definitely works!”

His face grows serious. “You didn’t answer the question.”

After that laughing fit, I think on it a moment. “Pterodactyl. Because they can fly.”

Benny nods. “Interesting. What’s your favorite then?”

“Nope. I’m saving that answer for after round 2.”

His eyes grow dark almost instantly. “Round 2? Like, tonight?”

“Well, my friend gave me a whole row of condoms and I don’t want to take any home.”

—----

A few hours later, I’m laying in Benny’s bed, thoroughly fucked, Benny sprawled across the bed on his stomach, lightly snoring. He’s so fucking beautiful. But then Sage’s words echo in my head “It’s just a rebound. Have fun and bounce.” I sigh, unsure of what to do. I actually do like Benny, but is that just because he’s the first guy to actually pay attention to me in a long while? Self-doubt seeps in, my ex’s hurtful words and actions taking away the blissful feeling I’d had moments before. I shake my head, telling myself that if any of it was true, I wouldn’t be in a gorgeous man’s bed, a man who just spent the last few hours pulling every spark of pleasure possible from me.

I quietly stand, gathering up my clothes. I get them on and lace up my boots, trying not to wake Benny. It’s better if I leave before he wakes up. Rebounds don’t work out anyway, so why prolong the inevitable?

I turn to head towards the door and see the hotel pad of paper and pen next to the phone on the dresser. I stare at it a moment before grabbing the pen, scrawling a quick “Thank You” with a heart at the end. I slide it under his keys and walk to the door, glancing back at the sleeping form of Benny, the man who just restored my confidence. I close it quietly behind me, making sure the lock clicks into place and request an Uber to take me home.

—----

Over the next few weeks, I try to get Benny out of my head. I try to stop thinking about him or talking about him. I know he’s a rebound, and those relationships don’t work out, as Sage has reminded me more than once. And I’m not sure I’m ready for a new relationship. I think. But talking to him had been so easy, effortless. Like we had been friends since forever. In a moment of desperation, I looked up the hotel on my Uber app and called it, knowing they wouldn’t give me any information about Benny. I can’t blame them. I don’t even know his last name.

—----

2 lines. The pink lines emerge bright against the white of the testing stick, showing me the same result as the other 4 pregnancy tests I’d taken. My stomach lurches again and I make it to the toilet just in time. I close the lid and flush, wiping my mouth with a washcloth as I stare at my reflection. How the fuck did this happen? We’d used a condom every time, and he used them correctly. It must have been a faulty condom. Fuck, Benny. How am I going to tell him? No really, how? I don’t even know his last name and now I’m having his child. A knock at the door pulls me from my spiral.

“Rea?”

I sniff and wipe my face again. “Pregnant.”

She’s silent for just a beat. “Can I come in?”

I make a noise in approval and she opens the door, heads directly for me and pulls me into a hug where I let myself lose it. Tears streaming down my face, dry heaving breaths, all of it. It takes me a while to calm down enough to talk. Sage wipes my face with a cool cloth and it helps to soothe me a bit more.

“Are you going to tell him?”

I scoff. “How, Sage?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Call the hotel? They have to have his info.”

I shake my head. “They won’t give it to me. Especially since I don’t know his last name.”

Sage cocks her head to the side. “How do you know?”

“Oh. I uh, I may have called a few weeks ago to uh try and uh…find. Him.”

She opens her mouth and then closes it. “That doesn’t really matter now. Do you know what you want to do?”

There’s so much I don’t know. I don’t know Benny’s last name. I don’t know where he lives, just that it’s local. I don’t know what he’d even say. I don’t know how this happened. I don’t know a lot. But there’s one thing that I did know right away.

“I’m keeping the baby.”

Sage takes a deep breath and nods once. “I can’t wait to be an auntie.”

—----

“Come on, Rea! You need to get out.”

I sigh, rubbing the side of my belly. “I’m 6 months pregnant, Sage. I don’t belong at an MMA fight.”

Sage copies my sigh and places her hand over mine. “You’ve been cooped up in your room for weeks. Just…come out to get some fresh air?”

“By sitting in a crowded auditorium surrounded by drunks?”

Sage shrugs. “I’m sure they won’t be drunk drunk. Besides, Henry has a special section all roped off just for us.”

Henry is super sweet. The burly bear sized, flannel clad man from Mick’s had fit right into our friendship, even becoming a sort of surrogate brother for me. And it’s clear to me that he loves Sage with everything he is just by the way he looks at her.

I sigh again, shrugging in a defeated manner. Sage squeals and grips my arm. “Thank you! Oh, you’ll have fun! Just wait and see!”

So now I find myself in a crowded auditorium, surrounded by people drinking. Well, ok the crowd isn’t bad around us. Sage was right - Henry had literally roped off an entire section just for us and glared at anyone who tried to grumble about it. He was really into MMA and had a couple of cousins that were fighting so he always had tickets to some match that was happening. Are they called matches? I don’t know.

Whatever they’re called, we’re a few in, Henry leaning over to tell us about each of the fighters as they’re announced. These matches are pretty brutal - I didn’t realize just how violent they can get, even with rules in place. The last match ends and the guy with the mop comes back out, cleaning away the blood that came from the last guy losing several teeth with a blow. Once cleaned, the microphone squeaks back on to announce the next fighters.

“From Red Feather Lakes, Colorado, standing 6’3, weighing in at 195 pounds, I give you BEN MILLER!”

A familiar memory scratches at the back of my head as the crowd screams and the doors open from the locker rooms somewhere in the throngs of people now on their feet. Henry leans in to yell in my ear.

“This guy is great! He’s kicked my cousin’s asses a few times! He…”

Whatever he said after fades into the background, which has dimmed to a loud hum, as Ben Miller struts into the ring, tossing his shirt to the side, revealing a very familiar tattoo and his face finally comes into my view.

Benny.

My stomach leaps into my throat, my heart hammering through my chest as I stare down at the man who I could never shake from my mind, even before I was having his child. Which he doesn’t know about.

A bell dings and Benny takes a few steps towards his opponent, who immediately clocks him in his jaw, Benny’s head flying backwards. The man manages to get a couple more hits in, Benny almost absorbing all of the hits. But then the man hesitates and Benny takes that moment to attack, winding his way around the ring, jabbing at his opponent in swift, concise, planned motions. The man only stays up for a few more seconds before crumbling to the ground and giving in. The crowd goes wild as the ref holds Benny’s arm in the air, blood trickling down from his nose, a giant smile on his face. My stomach lurches and I quickly stand, yelling something about the bathroom to Sage as I grab my jacket and run for the doors, the room suddenly too small and loud. I shove open the arena’s double doors and stumble out into the nearly empty hallway. The doors close behind me and I pause a moment, taking a few deep breaths to calm myself. But then the doors open behind me again and I attempt to stand up right.

“Rea?”

Benny’s voice echoes down the hallway and through me, my insides simultaneously tightening with nerves but also excited and swooning at his fucking calming tone. My back is to him but I don’t move. He takes a step closer.

“Rea? Is that you?”

Fuck. This isn’t how I would want him to find out. But how would he find out? It’s not like I could find him. I didn’t even know his last name. I don’t-

“Are you ok?”

His voice is closer now, only a few steps behind me. I swallow hard, willing myself to hold it together as I turn to face him, keeping my jacket covering my belly. His bright blue eyes immediately find mine, a smile quicking spreading across his beautiful face. He’s still shirtless and I have to focus to keep my eyes on his face.

“Rea! It is you! I thought I saw your face in the crowd! Did you see me fight?”

I manage a small smile. “Y-yeah. I did. Congrats.”

He shrugs. “Thanks. That guy was easy but when I saw you, I thought maybe he’d hit my head harder than I thought. What…I mean uh, how are you?”

I sigh, my small smile dropping. “I…I have to tell you something.”

His expression turns serious. “Ok. But if it’s about me not calling you, you sort of left me without a last name or number.” He chuckles but stops when I don’t react.

I hold his gaze a moment longer before letting my jacket fall to the side, exposing my belly under my form fitting black dress. His eyes immediately fall to my belly, his head turning to the side as he takes it in. I can see the moment it clicks, only a second or 2 after I moved my jacket, his eyes widening as his brain works double time to do the math. He points to himself.

“Is that…am I…the dad?”

I nod, rubbing my hand along the side of my belly where the baby is currently moving. “Yes.” I wait for the yell or scoff of disbelief, storming off, telling me I won’t get anything. All of what I had anticipated. But when I look up at him I see tears shining in his bright blues.

“You’re not fuckin’ with me?” His eyebrows pinch together, enhancing the shine from his tears and I shake my head.

“No. You’re the only one I’ve been with since my ex.”

His eyes shift down to my belly again and his hands start to reach out, but then he stops, looking back up at me. “May I?”

I give him a small smile and nod. “Yeah.”

Benny drops to his knees in front of me, placing each of his large hands on either side of my belly, rubbing small circles into my skin. I take his hand and move it, placing it right over where I’d just felt movement.

“He was just kicking over here.”

His eyes shoot up to mine. “A boy? I’m gonna have a son?”

Fuck how can his eyebrows do that? “Yeah. A son.”

And the tears start to fall, quietly streaking down his cheeks as he laughs, trying to dab at them with the hand I hadn’t just moved. “Hey, little man. It’s me. Your dad.” A hard kick lands right in Benny’s hand and he whoops, rubbing the spot with his thumb. “You got your old man’s feet!” He continues to talk to my belly in the middle of the hallway, not caring if anyone sees him. His face is animated and lit up, despite the dried blood caked under his nose and for a second, I can see an entire future laid out before us. A wedding, a house, dancing together, maybe more kids. The love. It’s only when I snap out of this fairytale vision that I realize I was smoothing back his hair. I yank my hands back and drop them to my sides.

“Shit I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

He glances up at me. “Nah it’s ok. Actually, it felt good.” He watches me for a moment before his expression hardens. “Ok I need to get off this floor.”

He waves away my offer of a helping hand, gesturing towards my belly as he groans, standing to his full height before stretching out his legs. “I’m gettin’ too old to be kneeling on hard ass floors.”

We’re quiet for several moments, each of us just watching the other.

“Why did you leave without sayin’ anything?”

I take a deep breath. “Benny, I…I’m sorry. I thought about you after that night. A lot. My friend had told me to just make it a rebound, to get my ex out of my head. Which it did, but what I didn’t expect was..well..you. I liked, well…like you a lot. You make me laugh, have some amazing stories, you’re funny, and hot as hell. But you also make me feel seen and heard. Like I wasn’t just there for convenience, which is ironic considering how we met, I realize that. I thought about trying to find you but the hotel wouldn’t tell me anything and I didn’t have anything to go by. And then I found out I was pregnant and I feel so guilty for not t- telling y- you, but I di-didn’t know h-how. I’m so s-s-sorry!” I can’t fight the pregnancy hormones anymore and the tears come, streaming down my face as I try to turn away, looking down and wiping furiously at my face. But then he’s there, pulling me towards him as best he can, his hand cradling the back of my head.

“Hey, it’s ok. I never did tell you my last name or ask for your number neither. I could’ve but I didn’t.” My crying slows and he pulls back just enough to look down at me, wiping away a tear. “And I’ve regretted it ever since. I haven’t stopped thinkin’ about you either, Rea. But I really had no way of finding you. But now that we’ve found each other again, can I have your number? I’d really like to take you to dinner.”

I let out a shaky chuckle. “It’s ok, Benny. You don’t have to do that.”

He cocks his head. “Do…what?”

“Take me to dinner. Listen, you can be as involved as you want. I won’t hold you to anything. I just wanted you to know. But you don’t have to-”

“No. I’m not asking you out because you’re pregnant. I’m asking you out because I’ve wanted to for months and regretted it every day that I didn’t.”

“Benny, really. It’s ok.”

“No, I- will you wait right here a moment?”

I nod and he places his hand on my belly once more, his son giving him another thump before he practically runs back through the double doors. Once they close, I walk over to the wall and lean my back against it, my emotions running through me. Is he telling the truth? Were we both just fucking idiots? That’s an obvious yes. But still, I don’t want him to feel like he owes me. It would be nice to hang with him again, though. No, Rea. Don’t make him feel forced. The double doors fly open and Benny comes running up to me, his wallet in his hand.

“I don’t need money, Ben-”

He shakes his head. “No. Well I mean if you need it, I’ll gladly give it but that’s not…here.” He slides out a small slip of paper from behind his driver’s license and unfolds it, handing it to me.

It’s the thank you note I scribbled to him and left in the hotel.

Tears well in my eyes again. “You..you kept this?”

His eyes sparkle as they look at me. “Hell yeah I did. I told you, I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you. But I had no way of findin’ you. I went to the bar every night hoping to see you walk in. But I never did.”

“I got too busy with work and then..” I gesture down to my belly and he laughs, placing a hand on my stomach again.

“Yeah I can’t blame you for not wanting to be in a bar. Especially your first trimester.”

My eyebrows raise. “What do you know about trimesters?”

“My sister was a hot fuckin’ mess during hers. Sick all the time, emotional, all of it. She felt bad about it too no matter how much we told her not to worry. My niece is 5 now and has the attitude to match.” He chuckles. “I can’t wait to meet this little guy..my little guy. Ours? Fuck this is hard to say.”

“Either way, I’m just glad you can say it.” I clutch the paper in my hand for a moment before handing it back to him.

“So when’s that dinner?”

We’re married a year later.

---------------------------------

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jedifarmerr · 4 months ago

Text

Wasteland Masterlist/AO3

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader/OFC (established backstory, no y/n or physical descriptions)

Series Summary: Sentenced to a life underground after a nuclear attack, what was said to be a quick and painless process somehow ended up taking 200 years. Waking up alone and with everyone else still frozen, a search for help and answers turns upside down when four mysterious men come into the picture.

Rating: E (chapter warnings: language, food & eating, some allusions to PTSD. Let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 12k

Authors Note: Yes, it's been a thousand years and I'm so sorry, but here we go again!

Chapter 11

“Have any of you seen Tom?”

Frankie glanced from the Miller’s to Santiago, his gaze catching on the empty stool that haunted the head of the hightop. He grimaced and looked away, feeling a stone lodge in his gut. Being here without Tom didn’t sit right with him.

They were at Shamrock Brewhouse – a tradition on Tuesday night. There was no one in the sunroom with them, but Will and Santi scanned the basket archway and the limited view of the second floor for any prying eyes or stray barflies. Nothing. Scarlett was nowhere to be found with their food either.

“Nope,” Will answered as Santi sullenly shook his head. They turned to Benny who was tracing the rings and runny medullary rays on the oak table.

“I ran into Molly the other day at the grocery store, but no Tom,” Benny said, voice low and sad. “Have you seen him, Fish?”

Lifting the frosted mug to his lips, Frankie downed a heavy sip and swallowed. “Not since the welcome home party.”

Twelve days ago.

One of them should’ve seen Tom around town by now. Sanctuary was too damn compact. You couldn’t evade anyone for too long unless it was intentional.

A bitter taste hung tauntingly behind his uvula, and no – it wasn’t pale ale backwash. Tom had made his point abundantly clear not showing up tonight – for the second week in a row. The writing was plastered on the wall: Tom was avoiding them.

And Frankie had no idea how to deal with that.

It was fucking with his head.

He’d never been on the other end of Tom’s silent treatment. None of them had, not Will or even Santiago. They never fought to such a degree before. Frankie tried to recount when any of them last genuinely argued with Tom. It must’ve been sometime before he retired. Butting heads was inevitable on missions when stakes and tensions were high.

Will cleared his throat, shaking Frankie from his musing. Behind Will, the wall of windows revealed a pitch-black sky. It was still somewhat early. It couldn't have been later than 8:30, but the nights had grown longer the further it inched into fall.

"It's been long enough. It’s time we reach out,” Will declared as he rubbed his jawline, his fingers scraping the thick, blonde hair there. “Besides, Tom’s not gonna be the one to do it.”

“No shit,” Santi murmured, snatching a greasy fried pickle from the basket in the center of the table. "But if we all show up at his house unannounced, he's gonna feel ambushed."

True.

“Alright, then, who goes?” Will didn’t look directly at anyone, but the answer was obvious. Even if Frankie knew his friends would never say it first.

There was a long pause. The air was ripe with tension. The music from downstairs bled in from the ceiling into the sticky floorboards, vibrating the legs of his chair. Frankie glanced around the table at his friends. Their faces were bathed in disfigured shadows by the few stained-glass pendant lights that barely lit the room. The glass was painted in dark neutral tones, the bulbs dim and orange as pumpkins.

"We all know it has to be me,” Frankie broke the silence. “I can go see him tomorrow.”

“Only if I’m coming with you.” Santi stared at him adamantly. The expression on his face was resolute, but Frankie still protested.

“You don’t-”

“You’re not going alone,” Santi interrupted, voice firmer than usual. He rarely raised his voice at Frankie.

"Not after that shit he pulled with your mom," Will added, and Benny nodded.

Surprised, Frankie’s lips parted. He didn’t think they would still be hung up over that. It had been almost two weeks, but the guys were still pissed at Tom for dragging his mom into this mess. Good thing he kept his mouth shut about Tom mentioning his dad. Or else it would be World War fucking 4.

"I wonder what your dad would think of that - about all of this."

Frankie could still recall the way Tom sneered at him. Those words had been said so flippantly – so carelessly – that it rooted Frankie to the spot. Shocked. He would’ve sworn he’d just been pummeled by a rabid gulped with the way the air caught in his chest, squeezing his ribs and lungs.

Tom must’ve known. Tom had to have known that it haunted Frankie. That he’d thought about his dad and especially his opinion every goddamn day since meeting her. Hell – longer than that. It’d plagued him for years. Ever since that cold January night when tiny white specks fell from a starless sky, wetting his ears and nose – snow. It was almost as if those flakes had melted into his head, sunk into his brain, and buried themselves somewhere deep within the grooves and fissures of his frontal lobe. He could not rid himself of it, could not make a decision without it being there - looming and present, unseen like a ghost.

What would my dad think of this? Would he be proud of his son?

It had been in that moment that Frankie had wanted to defend himself against Tom. It took everything in him not to lash out, but he knew better than to argue with Tom when he felt backed into a corner. There was no point. It was like dealing with a wild boar – a prowling snake – a faulty fragmentation mine where one tiny misstep would make him completely implode.

Instead, Frankie had left his office without saying a word.

Honestly, Frankie didn’t expect Tom to swallow his pride and ask for forgiveness. It was less of a joke and more of a universal fact that Tom was allergic to apologies. The word sorry would sound alien in Tom’s voice. It didn’t matter, though. Frankie had already made up his mind and forgiven Redfly. It felt like the least he could do given the circumstances.

"It worked out, though, didn’t it?” Frankie finally replied.

Abruptly, Will straightened and his brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” Frankie said, his thumb smudging the sweaty mug. “Blue seems to like working there-”

“That’s not the point, man,” Will intercepted, his blue eyes piercing into Frankie. "He never should've put you in that position."

Frankie shrugged, his tongue running along the roof of his mouth, feeling the dents and ridges. It was tough. He could understand where Tom's anger stemmed from in a way they could not.

He could see it from Tom’s perspective, and a part of him felt deserving of Tom's wrath. If roles were reversed, he’d also feel betrayed. He’d be shaken up, as well. Crawling out of his skin if someone, let alone his friends, showed up with a Vault-Tec kid claiming they were innocent.

“I could’ve said no,” Frankie reminded them. “We just need to make things right with him.”

---

The next day, the sun was beginning to set as they made their way to Tom’s place.

Frankie felt like he was going to be sick. His throat was dry as chalk – tongue lace-patterned. The hard lump in the center of his chest was shaped like an unruly fist.

His slippery grip tightened, practically strangling the glass handle of their peace offering – a growler from Shamrock. Coming equipped with an olive branch in his arsenal seemed like a necessity at this point. It never hurt to be prepared.

He hoped that Tom would be willing to talk as they silently walked through the orange and pink painted streets – as they moved into the calmer part of town and past colonial homes primarily reserved for families.

Encroaching upon the white picket fence, he was surprised to see Molly. Or her ponytail, more like. Her rich copper hair nearly blended into the budding sunset. He’d never met anyone with red hair before her. As a kid he’d thought it was a myth that only existed in the dingy pages of picture books like Madeline.

She was alone in the backyard. Her back turned to them as she picked up fake, plastic food in the patchy grass. It gave him a moment to readjust a smile on his face before Santi knocked on the fence.

Molly spun around, squealing when she realized it was them. At least she was elated to see them.

"Tom didn't tell me you guys were coming by." She tossed the toys into a nearby bin and waved them in.

“Thought we’d surprise him.” Santi unlatched the gate, tipping his stubbly chin towards the house. "Is he home?"

“He’s inside with the girls.” She hugged Santi, then Frankie. This was a much kinder welcome than anticipated.

It was funny how different Molly was from Tom. On the outside, their couple almost seemed like a mismatch. Polar opposites. She was warm and bubbly and as green as her eyes. There was a callowness there, an innocence that Tom did not possess, but then again, nobody who lived in the vaults did.

Tom needed someone like that to calm, ground, and balm his barbed-tooth edges. Molly was good for him. They worked well together.

After setting the growler carefully on the ground, they helped Molly clean up the rest of the yard: chalk, hula hoops, and a single jump rope. Most of the time, Molly talked about the girls – Janey had started school. Tess was learning how to ride a bike. They’d been pestering Tom non-stop about when the guys would come visit.

That made Frankie feel a gut-twisting guilt for his friend. Poor Redfly. He was angry at them, but still had to cover up their absence and had done it well, given how normal Molly was behaving. Frankie couldn’t imagine. Lying to his mom was hard enough and would undoubtedly be worse with a wife and kids.

"Would you mind hanging around out here?” Molly asked, directing them to sit at the patio table. "It's almost bath time, and it will be impossible to get the girls upstairs if they see you."

It was no problem. Of course, they did as she said. It would offer them more privacy, anyway.

As Molly waved goodbye she made them promise to come by next week for dinner with the Millers before heading inside to fetch Tom.

Waiting, Frankie nervously drummed his fingers along the tempered glass. The sun was barely cusping the horizon. A crisp breeze, scented with salt and early October, rattled the leaves, which had recently changed from green into fiery shades of orange and red – some pink and vermillion.

The back door kicked open – it swung and hit the terracotta siding with a thwack.

Wordlessly, Tom stepped onto the porch. His jaw was clenched. His beard was scraggly and unkempt. The only good sign was a stack of three cups in his left hand. It seemed he was letting them stay for a drink.

Frankie watched as Tom mechanically walked towards them. Usually, he’d stand to greet him but decided not to push it. He instead went with the safe option of a smile. The last thing he wanted to do was get off on the wrong foot over something stupid like a hug.

Santi must've had the same thought because he remained seated, as well. "How's it going, man?"

"Alright." Curt. Stone-cold.

The only sounds that followed were the wind and the whine of rusty hinges as Tom sat in the chair between them. God – it was awkward. It made Frankie doubt if it was a good idea coming here.

Tentatively, Frankie slid the growler over to Tom hoping it would help. It was a gift – a tribute. Tom remained silent as the grave. For a second, he thought Tom might push it away, deny it, and tell them to leave, but he finally sighed and accepted the offering. He unstacked the cups, unscrewed the lid, and poured the inky black liquid into the first glass.

"Imperial Stout." Tom's lips twitched enough to resemble a smile. "Trying to butter me up?"

"That depends." Pope shrugged with an ease that Frankie envied. He made everything look so simple. “Is it working?”

Tom answered with a nondescript hum before filling the other two glasses. Together – they took a drink. The beer coated his mouth. It tasted mildly of cherries.

It was civil twilight. The sky was crepuscular and cornflower blue. Around them, the streets were empty. The closest neighbors were an elderly couple who were likely already in bed. Tom was lucky. His house was private, located on a half acre of land.

A light from upstairs suddenly turned on – it flooded the grass with a dull yellow hue, and Tom cleared his throat. “Molly’s getting the girls ready for bed, so we can cut the bullshit.”

"What bullshit?" Santi quickly shook his head. Barely a word had been said, yet. “We’re just here to talk.”

Tom remained silent, eyeing Santi as if he was lying. It didn’t seem to faze Santi because his voice was as calm as ever.

"What do you want from us, Tom? We’re doing everything you asked. We’ve been looking after her-”

“We? Really?” Tom snuffed, the bottom of his cup smacking the tempered glass. "Cause what I’ve heard is only one of you is babysitting her.” He flayed Frankie with such a venomous glare that it startled him. “How’d you get that job, huh Fish? Pulling sticks?”

"Are we supposed to be keeping an eye on her or not?" Santi replied before Frankie could finish licking the bitter tang off his lips.

"Keeping an eye on her is a very different thing from following her around like a fucking dog," Tom spat, and Frankie had to look away, suddenly feeling severely embarrassed.

A dog? Was that what people were saying? It must've been the shop owners. Assholes. God forbid he walk her to work every day for the first week. It was just to make sure that nobody fucked with her. He didn’t like how certain people looked at her sometimes. That’s why he also walked her home if she got off when it was already dark. Sanctuary might’ve been protected against ghouls, raiders, and mutants, but there were still creeps.

Her safety was his – their responsibility.

He vaguely wondered if Kasumi had told Tom how often he was at her apartment. He hoped not. He hoped Kasumi had kept it to herself how often she saw him in her garden. In those first few days especially, he'd hung around her place slightly more than necessary when it became apparent how much she was struggling. He couldn’t find it in himself to leave her alone for too long – isolated in that tiny garage apartment with nothing more than her thoughts for company. It seemed cruel.

“Molly went by your mom’s shop the other day, but Blue wasn’t there.” Tom’s fingers curled around the metal armrest, his knuckles blanched as white as the crescent moon. “No. She was out to lunch with you.”

“So what?” Santi – again – intercepted. “I took her to lunch today - Benny took her yesterday.”

“But it’s mostly you, isn’t it?” Tom’s voice was so smug that it came across as patronizing. Even more so when his lips twisted into an impish grin. It was as if he’d caught him.

But he didn’t. It wasn’t like that. It really wasn’t.

Yes. Frankie had taken on the brunt of the work. He’d mainly looked after her, but only because the others had been analyzing the data from Blue’s vault, trying to figure out a way to open the pods. They had also been working on decrypting the synth chip. Besides, Frankie had more time to spare than the others. Will and Santi, and likely Benny as well, had someone in their beds.

“They help out when they can,” Frankie explained, tugging at the worn sleeves of his camel-tan nubuck jacket. “You know tech shit has never been my thing.”

"Don’t fuck around with me.” Tom shook his head in disbelief – or maybe disgust. “Is she what - your friend, now?”

“So what if she is?” Santi answered, but other than a grimace, Tom ignored him; his gaze remained firmly glued to Frankie’s face.

“I-” Frankie muttered, “I don’t know.”

He didn’t. He really didn’t know what she was to him. It wasn’t something he ruminated over too much because anytime he did, it struck him as a sin. He felt contrite when he realized Blue had wormed her way in. She’d gotten closer than he anticipated, and the guilt bound to his skin like old, muddy blood.

His brain was hard-wired to despise anything remotely associated with that company. It was decades worth of psyops.

They were the enemy – they imprisoned innocent people – they destroyed his fucking life.

He knew, deep down, he knew that he was supposed to hate her.

And he had hated her.

He’d despised her entirely with that bratty attitude and sinfully tight vault suit. He'd wanted to kill her. He’d pointed a gun at her head and nearly shot her dead. Brain matter on the Vienna rug. Purple guts on the velvet couch like the mud from their boots. Her body left to decompose in the living room.

It was strange how after just two weeks with her, he could no longer bear that thought. Ugly. Horrible. It cut him deeper than the idea of being her friend. He felt violently sick whenever he remembered his finger on the trigger, visualized her trembling chin and bulging eyes in his sight. The memory was never supposed to stick with him like this. She was never supposed to matter. It was like nothing made sense anymore. He swore nothing did since she came crashing into his life.

Of course, he had no idea how to explain any of that. The sky had darkened and blued like mold when he looked at Tom, wishing he could articulate all the shit in his head. He cleared his throat.

“It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” Tom spit the word back at him. Staggering back in his chair, Tom tilted his head and scrutinized him. “Are you fucking her?”

"What?” Frankie stared at him in shock as Santi sputtered on his drink. “No.”

"Jesus, Tom. What the fuck's the matter with you?"

"Me?" Tom hissed, ramming a finger into the center of his chest. He suddenly lurched forward and Frankie could see the prominent vein on his forehead throbbing. “What the fuck’s the matter with you? I mean, seriously - it’s like you’ve all forgotten who we’re dealing with here.”

“Do you think I could forget?” Frankie snapped – his shock erupting into indignation. His fingers curled into his fists as he tamped down the fire to rattle Redfly by the collar. How could you say that? How dare you. "I know better than anyone who we're dealing with," he spat, voice shaking with overwhelming rage. "My dad's dead because of them."

It was like he slapped Tom across the face. The force of his words made Tom’s head jerk, his mouth split apart like a gutted fish. Good. Tom gaze instantly dropped to the ground, where the moss was branching over the bricks.

Frankie snagged his drink off the table and took a heavy pull, though he wished for something stronger. His body craved it. Almost demanded it. His tongue itched for the specific burn that only the hard stuff – the good stuff – could supply: gin, whiskey, or whatever gut-rot he could quickly get his hands on. Of course, all of those were off the table. Had been for the last five years. He'd given up hard liquor when he quit Mentats and Jet and every other Chem that he'd grown too reliant on to live.

"What'd she say when you told her about your dad?" Tom's voice was soft, almost remorseful. It was the closest thing he'd get to an apology.

"I haven't told her yet," Frankie answered. "It's not easy to talk about." There was a reason why most people avoided mentioning Vault-Tec. It was a trigger. It brought back those memories that he used to try and choke to death in Chems and booze.

Soon. He would tell her, though. Very soon.

"I get it."

The stars breached the surface. A gust of chilly air seeped into his jacket, making Frankie snug it tighter. He turned to Tom and even in the ripe twilight, he could see Tom starting to crack. All that previous hardness was chipping away to reveal the man he knew – his friend. Redfly.

"I'm not asking you to trust her, Tom. I know I didn't." At first. Frankie sighed, dragging a hand across his jaw. "I still have doubts."

"About her?"

"Sometimes,” Frankie admitted. “Not as much as I used to, but it’s not like all the shit from before just goes away."

“We’re just asking you to give this a chance,” Santi siad, his carob eyes pleading with Tom. Trust us. "Can you do that?"

Tom waited a moment before giving a weak nod. “I’ll try.” He raised his glass in the air and rested it against his bottom lip. "Let's hope you're right."

"We'll find out more tomorrow." Santi squeezed Tom's shoulder. "She should give us some sort of intel at that meeting."

---

You'd expected things to move a little faster than this. You'd expected them to be on your ass for information. You'd expected them to give you at most a week, maybe a day or two at the new job before they started hounding you about holding up your end of the deal. This was, after all, a transaction. It'd sorta seemed like you'd be treated like one of those informants in a drug cartel movie.

You weren't complaining, though. Not at all. Having time to settle in was nice and much needed and you took it as a sign of good faith. They’d help up their end of the bargain, and now it was your turn to do the same.

After a little over two weeks, you were finally summoned to the council building. In the basement, they'd set up a private base where you could safely share intel. It was tucked away within a maze of short hallways, secured behind a pair of password-protected doors.

Stepping inside, the room appeared to be nothing special. It looked more like a storage room than a nerve center. The floor and walls were unfinished, gritty concrete with spidery cracks in the ceiling. Tiny motes of dust swirled around the strip lights like fruit gnats. Your eyes stung when you breathed in the heavy smell of loam and spilth.

The room was certainly spacious, though. Even with ten people in here, there was legroom to spare. The limited furniture undoubtedly helped. Against the back wall, a chalkboard on wheels was flanked by foldable steel chairs on two-tier dollys. Everyone gathered in the center of the room around a long cafeteria table.

Squeezing into the spot between Preston and Benny, you noticed the table was covered in maps, which encompassed the entire state of Massachusetts. A few even expanded into parts of Rhode Island and New Hampshire.

These maps were incredibly detailed. Each included street names, major highways and interstates, parks, and various landmarks. Someone had added their own interest points: X's and O's, making the maps look like a scrambled Tic-Tac-Toe board.

"These areas are where the bombs fell." Preston pointed at the black ring around Fall River. His finger rested there for a few seconds - tapping it for emphasis before trailing to the other circles.

You tracked his movement from Bridgewater to Rockport to Milford. When his finger ran across the ring near Wayland, you winced. It felt stupid that something as small as a circle could be a trigger. You couldn't escape it.

The nightmares were constant. Again and again, you dreamed of Concord, reliving everything like Groundhog Day. There was the distant sound of sirens and screams. Families desperately wailing for someone to save them. You could see Nora - bloody lips and gravel-dust on her ashen face. Against the summer blue horizon, a bright burst of light - a mushroom cloud of smoke. You'd thought you were going to die. It rattled your skull. You'd braced for impact, accepted death, then turned around and had to live.

To make matters worse, you could not go somewhere deep inside your head anymore. You couldn’t escape to happier times. Everything was too fresh and tainted. You couldn't remember Nora without seeing her dead. You couldn't think about your parents or family trips to Spain and Greece or the Amalfi fucking Coast without the taste of vinegar burning your throat. All your memories had become rotten, curdling like spoiled milk.

A salty pressure built around your temples, and you quickly closed your eyes to keep back tears. This was not the time or place to fall apart. You could do that later, in bed, like a normal person.

If anyone noticed your reaction, they didn't mention it. You were thankful for that. You were still figuring out how to deal with everything and where to put it all.

Stuff it down.

Stuff it away.

Bury it.

You opened your eyes when the threat of tears finally waned. You exhaled before scanning the mix of red and black X’s on the map. Focusing, you recognized some of the locations of the black X’s and noticed the red was solely in the north.

"I know these black X's are Vault-Tec. So, I'm guessing the red must be for Treasury?"

Preston smiled in response as Benny explained, "We added Treasury's, just in case you were curious."

Surprisingly, it was very informative. Most of the vaults they'd found were also in the north. That made sense, you supposed. Finding the vaults closest to Treasury's and Sanctuary was probably easy – or easier, at least. Additionally, there was one in Malden, Revere, two more in the neighborhoods around Boston, and four in New Hampshire. In total, you counted 16, but that was it?

"When did you start looking?" you asked. You were genuinely curious, but your tone must have come off as judgmental or unimpressed because Tom immediately appeared offended. He defensively folded his arms and nearly elbowed Frankie in the ribs as he puffed out his chest.

"The first vault was freed in 2200."

Suddenly, it made sense why they seemed so desperate for your help. Almost 80 years of searching, 16 was barely scratching the surface. At this rate, it would take another two centuries for them to locate the rest. If not longer.

"The first vault actually liberated themselves," Preston elaborated, gesturing to the X in Swampscott. "They found us, and that's how all this started."

"How many others have freed themselves?"

"As far as we know, none," Preston said.

Tom suddenly let out a sound that sounded like a mix of a scoff and a snort. It audibly flared his nostrils. "They made sure it never happened again," he stressed, the tendons in his jaw twitching.

He continued to stare at you. The chill that ran down your spine had nothing to do with the cold draft in the basement room. Under his ruthless hazel eyes, you felt scrutinized. His upper lip curled in disgust as if you stunk of toxic waste.

The guys had said they'd talked to Redfly. He's gonna try. He's gonna give you a chance. Yeah, that didn't seem to be the case.

Benny must've sensed the growing tension because he abruptly shifted topics. “Do a lot of these overlap with the ones you had?”

You tilted your head unevenly from side to side.

“About half-and-half. I didn’t know the exact location of the ones in New Hampshire. Or any of these, either.” Your finger orbited around the three vaults in the far northeastern region. “I was pretty dicey on this one, too,” you added, pecking at the city of Lawrence. It was lucky for them that most of the ones you knew were either within a 25-mile radius of Concord or to the southeast of Boston.

“So, that means you have a vault to give us.” Tom’s voice was flat as wood as he rolled a marker across the table. It would've been easier to just hand it to you, but of course, he had to be difficult. He probably didn't want to risk touching you. It was like you were diseased.

Luckily, you caught the marker before it could slide off and hit the ground. The last thing you wanted to give Tom was the satisfaction of seeing you crawling around on the cold, cement floor for a runaway marker.

You tapped the capped side of the marker against your chin. The fluorescent lights were bright white, reflecting against the synthetic paper. On the edge of Peabody, there was a vault. Finding Cannon Rock on the map, your eyes drifted a few blocks northeast. Right there. In that park.

You paused and abruptly looked at Concord, where your family was currently frozen. You thought back to when you left the vault. The only reason you did it was to save them, not betray them.

You'd been flirting with the point of no return but realized this was it. If you did this, if you gave up the vault, you could never go back to them again. Your father would not forgive you. Thinking about losing the only thing you had left of the world you knew made your chest feel too tight. It was as if a burlap sack was wrapped around your sternum, making it hard to breathe fully.

You wondered if this was the right decision. There was a split-second where you considered giving them the wrong location, leading them there, then making a run for it. This was a position you never wanted to be in. You were tired of being misled. Tired of not knowing who to trust. Time and time again, your own intuition had proven wrong. You didn't want to fuck up anymore.

You looked up, and when your gaze landed on Frankie, he offered a small smile. It was subtle, a simple quirk of his pink lips. You felt penitent. You hated yourself for even briefly considering misleading them. It was a lapse in judgment. You had no idea what you were thinking. Whether you turned back or not, things would never be the same with your family. You knew too much.

You uncapped the marker and took a deep breath before drawing an X near the border of Peabody and Lynn.

No going back, now. It was done.

---

When Frankie saw where she marked the map, he knew Tom would definitely question her.

“Right here?” Tom hammered his index finger against the fresh blue X, smearing the edges onto a nearby street. "Are you sure about that?"

Tom's stare bore into her like a heavy boot on her neck, but she didn't flinch. Instead, she firmly nodded, not even looking down to double-check.

"Positive?" Tom continued to press despite her confidence. "Cause we've checked that area more than a dozen times-”

"I don't know what to tell you, Tom. It's there."

Frankie had lost count of how many times their unit was sent on a recce to scope out that exact area.

Over the years, there had been countless clues and data encryptions that alluded to a vault being somewhere in Peabody. They’d go and waste days sifting through the town, turning it upside down to leave empty-handed.

After a while, Frankie had started to believe it was a ruse – a diversionary tactic to throw them off their scent. It sounded like something Vault-Tec would do, but now, it seemed like they had just overlooked it somehow.

"What made you pick this vault?" Tom asked.

She glanced down at the map before peering up at Tom through her lashes. "Uh - it's the closest one." Her tone was dry, a duh heavily implied. "I thought that would be the easiest way to do this, wouldn't you agree?"

The vein on Tom's forehead pulsed like a wound. He grunted in response, clearly pained to agree with her.

Truthfully, they should've been thanking her. She could've easily given them a vault that would take days or weeks to reach, but Frankie decided not to point that out. He'd rather not pick a fight before the ink could dry on their new peace treaty. Things between them weren't entirely back to normal just yet. Their interactions were still slightly awkward – stilted and fragile.

"So," Will rested his hip against the table and looked at Tom. "Is the captain going to tag along?"

Tom's lips split into a disarming grin that shaved the years off his face. Gone were the bags, wrinkles, and frown lines. He hadn't seen Tom smile like that since he retired.

Frankie knew Tom missed being out there – with a gun in his hand. He craved action – adrenaline – the acts of violence that inflicted the wasteland. Sitting at a desk and reading through files wasn't the life he ultimately envisioned.

"Come on." Tom folded his arms over his chest. "Do you think I'm gonna let you guys do this without me?"

"Woo!" Benny cheered, pounding his fist on the table. "That's what I'm fucking talking about."

Frankie glanced across the table at Blue and noticed the worry flicker over her face. Her fingers were curled tightly around the marker as her smile faltered to one side. There was a faraway look in her eyes and absently watched Tom and Benny celebrate. She blinked and abruptly corrected her expression. Even though she appeared fine, Frankie could tell innately that something was bothering her.

It had become almost like a sixth sense. Over the last two months, he had subconsciously come to learn her tics and tells. She didn't even have to give a lot. To him, she was downright easy to read.

And right now, she was nervous. He suspected that her unease had something to do with Tom and couldn't really blame her. She had no reason to trust him or any of them for that matter.

"Will Molly be okay with that?" Preston's voice was almost as stiff as his spine, but Tom didn’t seem to realize.

"She won't mind," Tom said dismissively. It was likely. After retiring, Tom continued to fill in for a sick patrol or volunteer to clear out an infestation of ghouls. He'd jump at the chance to escape from Sanctuary. She must've realized those few hours outside the gates kept him sane. "Besides, as long as Blue's telling the truth, we should be back before dark."

When Tom looked away, Preston quickly exchanged a glance with Curie. The two of them shared an inscrutable look. Interesting. Maybe it wasn't just him who caught on to Blue's apprehension.

"Well, someone has to balance out the testosterone in this group," Curie announced casually. "So, I'll come too."

Blue snorted earnestly before flashing Curie a grateful smile. "I'd really like that, but-" she paused for a moment, her lips twisting to one side. “Won’t people find it strange that I'm tagging along?"

“We don’t think so,” Preston said. “But we did talk and decided if anyone asks, we’ll say you aren’t comfortable being here without the guys, just yet. That excuse should buy us a few months, at least.”

"Besides, everyone believes you grew up out there," Will added. "To survive this long, you'd have to be a pretty big badass."

She smirked at that, but her expression quickly turned serious again. "So, you don't think anyone will put two and two together? Even with finding a vault?"

Frankie could understand her concern, though it was highly unlikely for a few reasons. For one – the guys didn't even believe who she was when she was in front of them, donning a vault suit.

Secondly, nobody had any real reason to question the Council or their unit. They were both respected. Both were highly regarded throughout the entire Commonwealth. Even if there were rumors, Frankie doubted the gossip would include Vault-Tec. Not with his involvement. Just his seal of approval alone cleared her name.

Thankfully, Preston said something different than that.

“We told everyone about the synths in Lexington for a reason. They know we’ve been working hard on analyzing the chip,” he explained, glancing briefly at Tom. “It wouldn’t be the first time a vault’s been found that way.”

She was silent for a long moment – seemingly contemplating before she nodded and said, “Okay.”

That was it.

The meeting concluded with Tom laying out a plan.

“We’ll leave Sunday.” He looked in Blue’s direction and scowled. “After the morning patrols get back. I don’t want any fucking surprises.”

---

On Sunday morning, the patrols slowly trickled in one by one. The routes covered the area of Clifton, but you doubted they extended further than Phillip's Beach or Swampscott Mall. Waiting seemed like a waste of precious daylight for only an hour or so of clearance, but questioning Tom would surely piss him off. He was already in a sour enough mood.

For the last hour, Preston and him had bickered in the corner. The council lobby didn't offer much in terms of privacy, but neither seemed to care.

"All I'm saying is maybe we should postpone the trip another day or two," Preston had said, halfway pleading with Tom to reconsider.

It had been raining on and off since yesterday. Last night, it was so severe that it woke you up twice. Even though the storm had passed earlier, you glanced out the window at the sky, where a mass of blackness brooded on the very distant horizon. Traversing through a hostile wasteland was dangerous - even more so with sight lines limited. Preston made it sound like a death wish, but Tom seemed intent on asserting his dominance.

"It's just rain. We'll be fine." Tom's tone was harsh – final. "I'm not waiting another day to find out if she's telling the truth."

Preston must have realized that Tom would not budge because he went to a nearby linen closet and handed everyone a flimsy bedroll. He dropped it in your lap, and it smelled like mothballs. "Just in case."

Luckily, you'd been prepared and wore a field jacket with a hood. Clad in combat boots and tatty black jeans, the leather holster around your waist looked like something straight from an old western - Gunsmoke or something with Clint Eastwood. It was thoroughly shocking that Tom even allowed you to have a gun.

It was around 10 or so when the last of the patrols walked through the gates with another clean bill of health. Finally, the group left – Preston waving goodbye with a worried look in his ochre eyes.

Against the overcast skies, you could see it was storming in Lawrence or Andover. Somewhere out west. The clouds over there were smeared and bruised with a sickly green hue. The air was gummy and thick with humidity from the October rain, and as you walked down Tedscore Street, you could feel your tank top sticking to your skin.

It was strange being surrounded again by destruction. Inside the walls of Sanctuary, you could almost forget what existed on the other side. No - everything there was so clean and put-together instead of destitute.

You turned onto Eastern Avenue and saw it lined with decay. The houses and stores were comatose, rotted from time and weather. The uranium residue hung above the town, blending into the ozone. This once busy street was now full of holes.

Staring down at your feet, you carefully stepped around the debris - the pits and cracks that riddled the asphalt, making it undrivable. Inside the potholes, the fresh puddles carried a specific stink. It was earthy and sulfuric, overwhelming your nostrils like a hot shower in Orlando, Florida.

Funny – even the smell of petrichor was different than it used to be. Nothing was the same anymore. It was ugly. It was broken. The world was in utter shreds.

“Pick up the pace," Tom barked, knocking you back into the present. His hot breath and bits of spit pelted the back of your neck. He was right on your heels.

"I'm going as fast as I can," you sassed. You refused to look over your shoulder, not wanting to be that close to his face.

"It's slick here, man," Benny was quick to come to your defense. It wasn't like he was moving any faster than you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Frankie lightly grip Tom's arm and guide him three steps back. You were thankful for that. It was better than nothing, though you wished Tom wasn't here at all.

You knew he would ruin the entire vibe when he announced that he was coming along. Everyone seemed uneasy around him. Barely anyone had said a word over the last hour and a half.

You’d thought Frankie was bad in the beginning, but even he didn’t act this cold. At least Frankie had the decency to act a little sympathetically toward your situation. He didn't trust or like you but cared somewhat about your safety. He didn't leave you in Concord. He'd protected you from the bugs and ghouls. You doubted Tom would've taken a nasty gash to the arm for you.

Two or maybe closer to three miles left, the group stopped for lunch in a strip mall parking lot. You plopped down next to Benny on the curb and pulled out a sandwich from the front pocket of your bag. Molly had made one for everyone. This morning, she'd handed them out personally before kissing Tom goodbye. You'd talked with her briefly, a quick introduction, but she was nicer than you expected given her husband. There was something kind about her smile.

"So," Tom began as you took the first bite. "How exactly do you know where this vault is?"

Suddenly, you realized they'd never explicitly asked how you knew the location of the vaults. You supposed it was a small detail in the grand scheme of things. Perhaps they thought it was common knowledge back then, and honestly, they wouldn’t have been completely wrong.

Looking around, you wouldn't know it now, but there were billboards everywhere, cheesy late-night infomercials, and posters shepherding traffic to the closest vault in case of an emergency. Back then, everyone knew where a few vaults were.

You swallowed. "My family went to the grand opening." Took another bite. This sandwich was delicious. You needed the recipe for whatever this sauce was.

"You've been to this vault before?" Will sounded surprised and slightly confused. Suddenly, you noticed everyone staring at you and gulped.

"Only outside of it, but yeah." You absently picked at the bread crust. Once construction finished, barely anyone was allowed inside aside from a few high-ups, such as your parents. Not even Alice had that sort of clearance, much to her annoyance.

"Vaults are a fragile system," your dad would tell her. "They need to be kept in perfect condition. We must maintain their integrity."

"And every vault had a grand opening?" Santi clarified, and you nodded.

As a kid, you used to cut the big yellow ribbon. You could remember the first time – outside of Vault 85. It was in the middle of a blizzard. Your teeth chattered, tiny hands shaking so violently in your fur-trimmed gloves that your dad had to hold them steady as you grappled with the giant scissors.

"I don't get it." Benny scratched his temple with a quizzical expression. "If you couldn’t go inside, what was the point?”

You couldn't help but smile at Benny. It was funny how much things had changed. Of course, it wouldn't make sense to him. In this world, there was no PR or promotions. They had no idea that a brand needed media attention to thrive.

"The whole thing was just for publicity." The Boston Bugle was always front and center – their pictures were broadcast on WRVR evening news. “The only reason my dad brought me was for the photo op. He thought seeing a family unit was good for the brand.”

Tom made an ugly sound with his mouth.

"If your face was already selling vaults, sounds like you might as well have worked for them." Tom glanced at Frankie, who was awkwardly sitting next to him on the cement parking block.

"It's not like I didn't consider it." You did. Of course you did. That would've made things at home so much easier. It would've made your parents – God, your mom so proud. How nice it would've been to make her proud for once. You shoved that thought away and shrugged. “At the end of the day, I didn’t want a job dealing with the end of the world. It wasn't something I liked thinking about."

For good reason, you thought, scanning the strip mall. There were the remains of a Dunkin' sign – a pizza place – a quaint corner cafe. At lunchtime, this area would've been swarming.

Now, there was no one. Now, there was just brittle mineral dust. Ash and ghosts.

You sighed. "I would've rather focused on saving the world I had, not saving it in the aftermath."

"And that's what Vault-Tec was doing? Saving the world?" Tom hissed, the words gritting between his teeth.

"That's what I thought at the time," you said calmly, voice sad. "Turns out I was wrong."

—-

It wasn't much further now. You were passing St. Joseph Cemetery, where headstones were buried under a thicket of weeds and bright yellow dandelions. Amidst the river birch and flowering dogwood trees were mausoleums entwined in vines. The brass doors were dark and rich with patina.

“Blue!” Curie called out, snapping your attention away from the grand iron archway and to the front of the line. “Wanna come lead the way?”

“Sure.”

She ushered you to the front of the pack, walking at your side. You squinted at the street signs and storefronts. It was hard to orient yourself when everything looked radically different.

“Here, this might help,” Curie said, revealing a pip-boy from her bag and placing it in your hands.

“Is this a 3000 model?” You marveled at the pip-boy before latching the band around your wrist. The device was roughly the size of your foot. It was clunkier and heavier than the prototypes. Vault-Tec had advertised the device as lightweight – you won’t even realize you have one on. Just another one of their lies. It was no wonder Curie had kept it in her bag. It felt like a two-liter of soda pressed against your radius and ulna.

On the screen, there was a monochrome map. You messed with the control dial on the right side, flipping through the different tabs at the top: data, stats, and a radio that emitted pure static. The device must’ve been modded because it was missing the vault features. Even on the home screen, there was no Vault-Boy (or girl).

"I'm guessing your vault didn't hand those out." Tom's voice was even more grating than the static.

"Nope," you said simply as you switched back to the map, honing in on the vault's location and placing a pin.

"And you didn't find that odd?"

"No, not really," you replied. "Believe it or not, the last thing on my mind after watching the world end was a fancy computer for my wrist."

You could hear Tom let out a low growl but ignored it.

As you continued down the road, you wondered if Tom was someone who people didn’t usually fuck with. It seemed highly likely. He was intimidating, after all. Big and menacing in his build. He struck you as someone who didn’t want to be tested. Or bested for that matter.

On the last half-mile, it began to drizzle. Picking up your pace slightly, you glanced at the screen and turned right. Just a block ahead, outside the neighborhood, was Granite Park, nestled in a valley between rolling hills. Most people had no idea the park was funded by Vault-Tec. It wasn't anywhere on the sign.

The park was eerie with its empty benches and dead gardens. The monkey bars and jungle gyms had lost their paint and would undoubtedly collapse with time. A cool breeze rustled the swings. The melody was haunting.

It looked different than you remembered, and not in the way that everything looked different. The park had changed, but you couldn't pinpoint what exactly.

“So, where is it?” Tom slapped his thighs like an impatient child.

With an irritated huff, you pressed forward. Your boots slopped through the overgrown grass, hitting just below your knees. After passing the picnic tables, it was basically a swamp. It led to a pond filled with moss and trash, and the air stank of stagnant water. There were willow flies and golden drakes the size of your fist. The vault was around here somewhere.

Rubbing your chin, you spanned the shoreline and even went deeper, near the forest edge. Nothing. In a valley, the land was flat enough that you could see the expanse of open area fairly clearly. Your mouth began to dry as you backtracked to the picnic tables, then scanned the grounds, including the kiddie area and splash zone.

Again – nothing.

The vault was gone.

---

“Are we gonna keep going around in circles, Blue?” Tom taunted, and you could imagine the look on his face - his chin thrust out and eyes gleaming with insolence.

Holding your breath, you surveyed the pond, the soccer fields, and cracked pickleball courts. That was the fourth time: still, nothing. Your toes and fingers felt like static. Your heart was in your throat. Your anxiety was rising to a level that made it nearly impossible to think straight.

A strong hand grasped your shoulder, yanking you from the brink of a full-blown panic attack. Your feet swerved in a circle and when you tilted your chin up, Frankie’s hand dropped to his side. He shifted back a step to study you. His thumb dragged over his bottom lip, your eyes tracking the flicker of pink that appeared between his teeth.

“Are you sure it’s here?” Frankie whispered, glancing momentarily at the group. His brows were pleated, his jaw tensing. He appeared less upset and more worried than anything.

Tom was going to lose his shit any second.

“I don’t understand. I-” You bit down hard on your bottom lip, though let it go before drawing blood. “It was here. I swear.”

It was.

It was here.

The vault couldn’t just get up and move, so where the hell was it?

Cursing, you spun back around to observe the park for the fifth time. You scanned the perimeter of the pond. Something pulled you back to the cola cans and plastic bags floating in the water. A hairless duck had made a nest from diapers.

It became more difficult to focus as Tom’s voice rose, yelling and laughing as if this was a game he’d just won. “I knew it.” He repeated over and over again. “I fucking knew she was a fraud.”

“Shut up and let her concentrate.” Frankie snapped before mumbling. “Jesus Christ.”

“Fuck you mean concentrate?” Tom snorted. “The vault isn’t here. She's setting us up. She lied to you."

“Stop it,” Santi warned, voice stern and angrier than you've ever heard. Tom growled like a wild beast, clearly not in the mood for orders.

“This is fucking bullshit.” He roared as the rain began to fall harder. “For all we know, synths could be on the other side of that tree line."

“That’s not helping, Tom,” Curie cut in, which was mildly surprising. She barely knew you, after all. All of them, especially Curie, had every right to doubt you, yet…

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Frankie shift and reposition himself at your back. He was guarding you. Ben and Will also began to defend you. It made your chest feel warm, even against the chill of the rain.

You refused to let them down. Focusing, you gripped the edges of your hood and crushed it against your ears to drown out the fighting.

Think. Come on, think.

It didn’t make sense. If this vault had opened when you were a kid, you would’ve understood being turned around, but it had been relatively newer when the bombs fell. Its grand opening was the day after your 21st birthday. Your dad had dragged you here disastrously hungover, hair in a bun and makeup crusty from the night before. You'd spent the entire drive dry-heaving in the backseat of his Bentley Continental. Then a solid ten minutes with your head buried in a public toilet, swearing off Sea Breeze's and vodka in general.

You glanced over at the bathroom, a brick shack that was surprisingly in decent shape. The vault was just a short distance from the bathroom. Squinting, you inspected where you swore there used to be a gravel pathway. Amidst the weeds and greenery, something silver caught your eye.

It was a random metal pole near the outdoor fitness zone. It looked plain and unassuming, nothing special at all. However, it triggered a memory from the day you left the vault. Outside, one of the first things you’d noticed were silver poles. The last remnants of the fence.

Slowly, your hands fell to your sides as you spotted another pole a few yards off - two more on your left. They were scattered in seemingly random order, though none too far from...you rocked back.

“The pond.”

“What’d you say?”

You ignored Frankie, too busy perusing the hills surrounding the park. The pieces were rapidly clicking into place. Yes, you’d realized something was different. Something had changed, and it was this pond. This pond was not here before. A group of vaults had been built in a flood plain. You closed your eyes, visualizing the bulkier entrance that was reinforced with protective barriers to prevent it from bogging.

Obviously, those barriers were now gone. They’d descended underground, you guessed. Disappearing along with the men, women, and children when the vault was sealed.

Suddenly, you were seeing first-hand how deep Vault-Tec's corruption ran.

They’d clearly planned this when building the vaults, strategically placing them in places where no one could find them – places where the landscape could do the dirty work. The rain had covered their tracks. Marked on a map or not, no one would question a pond in the middle of a park. It was brilliant and frightening.

That was why these guys had struggled to find the vaults. That must’ve been why they appeared so frustrated – so desperate. They had searched this area before – they were in the right place this whole time. Everything was starting to make sense.

You spun around to find Frankie staring at you from the berm. Visibly anxious, his fist shook at his side. You slid over to him, leaving barely a gap. “It’s in the pond. It’s here. It’s under the water.”

The expression on his face morphed from curious to puzzled. It took him a moment to digest the information. His gaze flickered from your face to the murky water behind your shoulder. “In there?”

You nodded, and Tom scoffed with his usual mark of disdain.

“Do you expect us to take your word for that?"

"Not at all." You moved to the side and dramatically motioned towards the pond. "Be my guest and check for yourself," you challenged, making his upper lip curl into a snarl.

You didn’t know how deep the pond went, but surely, if he dove down far enough, he’d find something. The yellow and white paint had likely thinned and peeled away, but the VT mullion would still be visible. Ponds weren’t metal at the bottom. Perhaps he could feel the steel ridges under his feet or with his hands.

As thunder rumbled in the distance, Benny stepped forward. “I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure?” Will asked, very concerned, but Benny was already stripping off his clothes.

His jacket and shirt were strewn over a bench. Gone were his boots, socks, and jeans. Clad in black briefs, your cheeks burned seeing Benny this exposed.

You'd seen a man shirtless before. Of course, you had, but they never looked like that. He was lean with muscle and much hairier than you expected. His chest and lower abdomen were swathed in dark fuzz.

Shit. You were staring.

Turning away, you caught Frankie eyeing you, his tongue pressing against his cheek. It was hard to read his expression. The rain dribbled off the brim of his cap and blurred his features – his revelatory eyes.

Almost immediately, he broke eye contact and glanced down at your wrist. "Benny will need the pip-boy," he stated, devoid of emotion.

When you finally managed to unhook the pip-boy, Benny was on the shoreline in all his farmer-tan glory. He was close enough where you could see every individual strand of russet hair between his muscled pecs. You cleared your throat and handed over the pip-boy.

"It should be somewhere close to the middle," you told him as he secured the device to his wrist and flicked on its flashlight. Smart. In this cloud coverage, visibility was going to be extremely limited.

"Don't worry, Blue. I'll find it." Benny winked before Will patted him firmly on the shoulder.

"Be quick." Will tipped his chin towards the dark, grumbly sky. They didn't need Ben dying from a lightning strike.

“I will,” Benny promised and descended into the sooty water. It must’ve been cold because the muscles on his back convulsed. The water ruffled as his head disappeared entirely under the moss.

The rain formed capillary waves, making it impossible to see where Benny was. On the shoreline, everyone stood in a single line except Tom, who was lurking in your shadow. Every breath, every scoff, every mumbled remark puffed against your pulse point like the hot breath of a dragon.

Benny emerged once – a second time, a few more yards out. He shook his hair out of his eyes like a wet dog. “I think I see it!” He sucked in a big gulp of air before diving back down again.

The storm was edging closer. Closer. The moody, pewter-green clouds heaved a low growl. A flash of white light snaked the sky as Benny resurfaced for a third time.

"Holy shit!" Benny slapped the water and hollered, "We've struck gold, bitches!"

---

The celebration was cut short by the storm. The rain pelted them as Frankie and the group fled to the nearest house with an intact roof - a split-level with a wood stove in the living room. It was a lucky find. Even though it stunk of mold, and radroaches had long-infested the master bedroom.

As Santi and Will treated the intrusion with double-barrels, Frankie worked on starting a fire. Searching the second bedroom, he found a stack of Grognak comic books and used the pages as tinder. Good thing he brought matches. His hands hovered around the fire for warmth, but the cold had seeped through his bones and made his teeth chatter. His fingers were chilled blue from the rain. His clothes were soggy and swamped, gripping his skin like mutant guts.

He undressed in the kitchen, hiding his bare ass behind the island. God forbid Blue come upstairs to see him in such a pitiful, shriveled state. Not just her – he would hate for Curie or any woman to see him like that. Even though it was completely normal. It was the cold, wet goddamnit.

After yanking on a spare pair of jeans and a t-shirt from his pack, he draped the sodden clothes over a dining room chair to dry. Time was already running thin before this delay, so there was no chance of returning to Sanctuary tonight.

Sighing, Frankie leaned against the sliding glass door and watched the steady deluge of rain. The backyard offered a small view of the park. In the gaps between the trees, he could see a glimpse of the swing set - the teeter-totters. Throughout the years, he’d spent countless hours ambling around these streets and even that goddamn park for a sign of a vault.

It was there. This whole time, the vault was right there.

He wondered how many other vaults they'd missed, overlooked, and walked right past without a clue. It was obvious they never would’ve found it on their own. They never would’ve thought to look at the bottom of a pond. Those people would’ve been stuck there forever if not for her: A woman whose skin was freezer-burned less than three months ago.

It was crazy how much had changed within a season – from a simple mission to explore further west. He could remember arriving in Concord defeated, drained, and covered in sweat and ghoul brains. Like the town before, the neighborhood had been swarming with undead. Throughout those muggy August nights, he'd desperately wished for a miracle while bunking in a brick mansion, unaware that its original owners had worked for Vault-Tec. Unaware of her existence at all.

Little did he know.

Frankie had never put much stock in the idea of fate. He would much rather rely on logic and choice than the idea that his life was written in asterism. However, there was no denying that meeting her felt almost cosmic.

Thinking about her like that made the hair on the back of his neck bristle. It scared him how fast his doubts about her were beginning to dwindle. He wanted to cling to them. Sometimes, those what-ifs felt like the only thing keeping him sane. It gave him an excuse to keep her at a distance. He didn't know what would happen if he didn't have a reason to keep her at arm's length.

A violent crash yanked Frankie from his musing. The first thing that came to his mind was Blue. As he wondered where she was, he remembered she was with Ben and Curie. She was safe with them.

Gun at the ready, he tracked the noise to the master bedroom. It was just Will and Santi moving an armoire to block a broken window, where the roaches were likely entering. Afterward, they decided to do the same for the rest of the house, checking and covering any entry points large enough for creatures to sneak through.

When they finally finished securing the house, it was dinner time. Everyone was gathered in the living room around the rekindled fire. Luckily, they were prepared for the worst and brought mason jars of chili, which was just vegetables and beans, no meat. Despite it being cold, Frankie preferred this to sleeping on an empty stomach.

“So, give me a timeline - how long does this whole freeing the vault thing take.”

Frankie turned to his left, where Blue was beside him, criss-cross on the moth-bitten rug. She shoveled a handful of dry fruit into her mouth. Her and her damn dried fruit.

“It can be a lengthy process,” Frankie answered, and she bobbled her head for him to elaborate. He snorted at her dramatics. “Depends on the season, the weather, the geographical location of the vault. Sometimes, it takes weeks - other times months.”

"Alright, but what about this one?"

Probably a while. Frankie shrugged. “I don’t know.”

The raggedy couch cushion whined under Curie as she leaned forward. “Typically, the process starts by hacking into the vault's main control board using the Pip-Boy's adapter plug. We install a backdoor attack, which allows us to remotely access the vault doors without tipping them off."

“Damn.”

“And not just that,” Curie continued. "We also gain access into the Pip-Boys registered to the vault, which offers us a headcount for the MRO.”

Doors and Pip-Boys. It was strange how those were the two weak spots in the system. Everything else, though, was locked down and encrypted. As a young cadet, part of their duties included ciphering the coding - or at least, attempting to. Frankie thought back to those weekends spent at the base's information room in the dark basement. Afterward, his head would hurt from the mess of letters, numbers, and mysterious dates: September 7th, 2041, January 3rd, 2045, and more that he couldn't fully recall. Once in a while, a random word would be thrown into the mix, like Sugar Plum Fairy or Peanut.

Goddamn peanut was everywhere. In fact, the intelligence team had been thoroughly convinced that it must have something to do with elephants. One of the best units in Sanctuary's history - Frankie's idols growing up - were deployed to Franklin Park Zoo. It was one of the worst missions ever. The unit returned home down two arms and an entire person after a blood bath with mutant lions and pygmy hippos. It was a miracle any of them survived.

The crackle of thunder pulled Frankie from his thoughts. As he slugged back a bite of chili, he figured Curie would launch into one of her usual tangents. He was fully expecting Curie to tell Blue about the ability to communicate with the Vault Dwellers as well. It made more sense when Curie explained it. She knew better than all of them the logistics behind sending messages to individual Pip-Boys. She was on the intelligence team that would spend days, even weeks, cold-calling until someone got curious enough to take the bait.

Breaking into the vault without an early warning was risky. It was essential to form trust for a smooth rescue. After all, these people had kids – families that they would want to protect. Even though it was shitty, the vault was the only home they'd ever known. That was their entire world.

Curie's mouth opened as if to say more, but she must've noticed Tom glaring from the dusty recliner because she took a drink from her canteen instead. No one wanted to deal with Tom's wrath, and knowing Curie, she'd likely tell Blue later - when Tom wasn't around to give her hell.

Will finished off the last of his chili, screwing on the lid of his jar. "This time will be harder, though," he said in his typical methodical tone. "Since the main control board is embedded into the entrance-"

“Which is underwater,” Blue finished before Will could.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Will hummed. "So, we're gonna have to figure out how to drain the pond."

“Well, maybe-” Blue abruptly cut herself off, wrenching her jaw shut. Her expression switched into something conflicted, her gaze diverting to her lap, where the cloth bag of dried fruit was twisted like a water knot in her grasp. She bit down on her lip, chewing it thoughtfully.

Frankie wondered what was going on in that head of hers as the wind rattled the windows. The rain continued to pour down in sheets, leaking from the various water stains in the popcorn ceiling. Underneath, the wooden floorboards were bent and warped and gnarled. He forced himself to focus on the plop-plop-plop instead of trying to figure out her brain. He didn't need to know the interworkings of her mind - he didn't understand why he even cared.

In the quiet room, the fire crackled and spit, casting the room in shadows. Blue drew in a breath as if savoring the smell of burning paper. The resin buttons on her shirt slowly relaxed as she exhaled. “I don’t know if you noticed the metal poles around the pond, but those used to be a part of a fence that went around the vault."

“The fuck does that have to do with anything?” Tom interrupted, very confrontational. Could he let her finish?

“I’m not completely sure,” she answered Tom more calmly than he deserved before choosing to focus on Frankie. "But if Vault-Tec wanted to wipe themselves from the surface, why leave those?"

Intrigued, Frankie's body dipped into the space between them as he licked his lips. "They wouldn't."

"Exactly." Her bright eyes reflected the orange light from the fire – her lips curved into a pleasing smile. “Now, those poles could be integral to the vault structure or something. But, maybe, there’s some type of wiring inside.” She shrugged, shaking her head as if worried to say something stupid. "I mean - I don't know much about that kinda stuff, but in order for computers and Pip-Boys to work, they gotta be getting a signal from somewhere, right?"

That goddamn head of hers.

This was the second time today she'd left him dumbstruck. She looked unsure of herself - almost insecure - and even though they didn't know if she was right or wrong, it was a sound theory. She was full of surprises.

"Blue!" Benny revered, hugging her around the shoulders and lightly shaking her. "You might be the smartest girl I've ever met."

She giggled girlishly as Benny rocked her back and forth a few times before finally releasing her.

"Thanks, but I find that hard to believe when Curie's legit the reincarnation of her namesake."

Curie clicked her tongue in disapproval. "Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses."

"That sounds like something a genius would say," Blue said, and Frankie tilted his head, his lips pursed as if deeply puzzled.

"Does it?"

She scrunched her nose at the sarcasm in his tone and answered, "A humble one, at least."

"And how many of those do you know?"

"Sadly, I've met more arrogant idiots," she said before trying to open her jar of chili. It didn't budge. She grunted, trying and failing for the second time. She frowned.

He gestured at the jar with two fingers. "Let me see it."

Stubborn, like always, Blue ignored him and instead cranked the lid as hard as possible. The muscles in her neck flexed, but when it still didn't give way, she groaned and begrudgingly handed it over, finally accepting his help. It took one solid twist for him to pop the lid.

"Show off," she huffed under her breath. He'd never met someone so determined to prove themselves as capable. Even with small things.

When she snatched the jar from his hand, it was Deja Vu. He was instantly transported back to her first few days in Sanctuary when cooped up in her house, they'd spent hours in her tiny kitchen. She'd put herself in charge of cooking, but he was always there, propped against a nearby counter to watch her zest lemons and mince garlic cloves. She insisted that she didn't need his help, but five minutes later, she would turn around and ask him to open a jar, stir the sauce, or grab some spices off the rack. "Whatever you say, chef."

She was a far better cook than he anticipated. Every dish, even the most basic, had her own little flare.

One night, she whipped up some brownies, licking the gooey batter off the beater. Her tongue twisted, curling around the metal rods to get every drop. It had made his breath catch.

The memory of her pretty tongue flashed behind his eyes, making his blood simmer in his veins. Frankie dug his fingers into the musty rug. His focus abruptly dipped to the jar pressed against her lips. She tipped back her head, eating the chili like a pull of whiskey.

His gaze was glued to her mouth as she thumbed some juice off her bottom lip and sucked it from her fingertip. It made something hot unfurl in his gut that he had to jam into his intestines before it could take root. He looked away, suddenly remembering where he was. This wasn't her kitchen. Other people were in the room.

Curie and Will might've been lost in each other, but Santi and Ben were staring at him. In the dark, the firelight obscured their faces - their expressions indistinct. When he thought of looking in Tom's direction, the heat of shame burned his cheeks.

It was stupid. He'd done nothing wrong at all.

So, why did he feel caught?

#pedro pascal fanfiction #francisco morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal #francisco morales #frankie x reader #fallout fanfic #fallout au

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simplegenius042 · 2 months ago

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Music Monday, WIP Wednesday & OC Speech Mannerisms

Tagged by @inafieldofdaisies @socially-awkward-skeleton @imogenkol and @noodlecupcakes

Tagging @direwombat @voidika @cassietrn @adelaidedrubman @aceghosts @josephseedismyfather @icecutioner @derelictheretic @shallow-gravy @strangefable @statichvm @cloudofbutterflies92 @carlosoliveiraa @wrathfulrook @raresvtm @starsandskies @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @minilev @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @justasmolbard @alypink @shellibisshe @josephslittledeputy @skoll-sun-eater @g0dspeeed @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins @softtidesworld @florbelles and @yokobai + anyone who wants to join.

Music for The UnTitledverse WIP, aka another for my Walking Fate series, a WIP for The Silver Chronicles and OC speech mannerisms for A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore. Listen and read under the cut, plus the template near the end below:

Yeah, so I can't stop talking about Walking Fate. This particular WIP in the series is referred to as A Dark Era as it takes place near season three, or A New Frontier as we know it. Not only is the song chosen because of the themes of that game (and the central relationship between Javi and David), but its in addition to the growing decay (considering this is in The Walking Dead, does this count as a pun?) of Clementine's hope for Malcrum and Malcrum's loss of himself. I'd like to say that each "season" is about a certain aspect/form of a relationship. Season 1 is about the formation of relationships, familial and romantic (with hints of loss). Season 2 is about reignited relationships, the strengths and weaknesses in them, true and false relationships and lastly the loss them. Season 3 is the decay of relationships. Season 4 is forming new connections, and the finale is being able to let go. Listen to the song below:

youtube

"'Cause baby, now we've got bad blood You know it used to be mad love So take a look at what you've done 'Cause baby, now we've got bad blood, hey!"

"I can't take it back, look where I'm at We was O-G like D.O.C., remember that? (Remember that?) My T-L-C was quite O-D, I-D my facts Now P-O-V of you and me, similar Iraq I don't hate you, but I hate to critique, overrate you These beats of a dark heart, use basslines to replace you Take time and erase you, love don't hear no more No, I don't fear no more, better yet, respect ain't quite sincere no more."

"Oh, it's so sad to think about the good times You and I

'Cause baby, now we've got bad blood You know it used to be mad love So take a look at what you've done 'Cause baby, now we've got bad blood, hey!

Now we've got problems And I don't think we can solve 'em You made a really deep cut And baby, now we've got bad blood, hey!"

"Remember when you tried to write me off? Remember when you thought I'd take a loss? Don't you remember? You thought that I would need ya Follow procedure, remember? Oh, wait, you got amnesia It was my season for battle wounds Battle scars, body bumped, bruised Stabbed in the back; brimstone, fire jumping through Still, all my life, I got money and power And you gotta to live with the bad blood now."

"Oh, it's so sad to think about the good times You and I

'Cause baby, now we've got bad blood You know it used to be mad love So take a look at what you've done 'Cause baby, now we've got bad blood, hey!

Now we've got problems And I don't think we can solve 'em You made a really deep cut And baby, now we've got bad blood, hey!

Band-Aids don't fix bullet holes You say sorry just for show If you live like that, you live with ghosts." "You forgive, you forget, but you never let it go." "Band-Aids don't fix bullet holes You say sorry just for show If you live like that, you live with ghosts." "If you love like that, blood runs cold."

"'Cause baby, now we've got bad blood You know it used to be mad love So take a look at what you've done 'Cause baby, now we've got bad blood, hey!

Now we've got problems And I don't think we can solve 'em (Don't think we can solve 'em) You made a really deep cut And baby, now we've got bad blood, hey!

'Cause baby, now we've got bad blood You know it used to be mad love So take a look at what you've done (Look what you've done) 'Cause baby, now we've got bad blood, hey!

Now we've got problems And I don't think we can solve 'em You made a really deep cut And baby, now we've got bad blood, hey!"

New FC5 WIP, and it's a bit like a crossover. Actually, more like a Bloodborne AU type deal with Far Cry 5. To note, this no way in which relates to or is connected to my own Bloodborne WIP. Anyway, so the deal with this FC5/Bloodborne WIP AU is, Hope County has a bit of a werewolf problem. It's supposedly a plague that irreversibly changes people into bloodthirsty beasts and these creatures usually come out a few nights in the year. Or maybe they come out every night, I'm unsure. For this reason, Hope County has a curfew installed and contracted a local monastery to send out special hunters to hunt these beasts down and keep the populace safe. In this WIP, the monastery and hunters are lead by Paul Yellowjack, who is the first hunter (he takes on a combination of roles from the actual Bloodborne game; most tellingly, Gehrman), with Silva (my deputy OC in any regular FC5 fic) leading the hunts as his first student (taking on the role as Lady Maria in a way; and unlike Gehrman, Paul is not attracted to her (if that is the correct interpretation, because Bloodborne is a game that is really up to interpretation), however, just like Gehrman, Paul has a bit of an obsession with her, just more paternal and codependent... the moon may or may not be involved in this). In this AU, hunters don't really interact with people outside of the hunts for the people's safety and because their profession doesn't really scream long life expectancy. Some FC5 characters, like Jess, Grace, Sharky and maybe the Whitetail Militia have become Hunters. Some OCs who were Eden's Gate or Resistance (Nadi, Alexander and Gavin specifically) are also Hunters. Eden's Gate takes on more-or-less the same role as it does in the game, they're just (a) better at hiding their crimes because everyone's preoccupied with the werewolves and (b) using the fact there are werewolves as a sign the Collapse is coming closer, and honestly, it manages to get them more converts. In the early years, Eden's Gate and Paul's Monastery (of Hunters) did trades; Eden's Gate transferred Paul more hunter converts, and Paul in turn would give resources and lands (of the recently deceased) over to them. However, after Vicar Laurence turned into a Cleric Beast, Paul's Hunters and Eden's Gate align with each other to combat the scourge plague and find out how to both eradicate the beasts in hiding and completely destroy the source of it so they stop growing in number. Joseph and his family still have their goal of bringing forth the Collapse, however the Scourge Plague needs to get gone so law enforcement can actually patrol the nights again, so their willing to wait and work with Paul some more, especially since this new alliance has opened up a new chore Paul will do for Joseph's family; clearing out the beasts that use the bunkers the Project wants as a den. But Paul expects this alliance to go both ways, meaning Joseph has to be ready to give somethings up to the Hunters... or even someone. Here's a bit of a snippet of the prologue, where these proceedings go down. A bit choppy and personally not my best but I'll fix it up when I got the time:

Paul offered the glass to Joseph, but he declined with a wave of his hand.

The older man tried to offer it to Jacob and John. While John looked at the glass with disdain when turning it away, Jacob took a moment to consider the tempting offer before deciding against it.

The night days before may have been a dreadfully long one, but Jacob had no intention on compromising his values now. Especially not with both his little brothers present.

Paul didn't push against their refusals, instead taking the glass drinks for himself, downing both before slumping into his seat, exhaustion heavy on features. And yet he hadn't lost his composure that night. No wonder he was a more favorable leader than Laurence was... or had been.

Jacob tried not to think about the masses screams... and the loud inhuman shrieks that bellowed from the flames.

Paul sat up, hand brushing through his light brown hair. Soon his exhaustion was replaced with his usual cheerful facade, an optimism that Jacob was unsure was more for the older man or his people.

"As I was saying," Paul stated, catching the brothers attention, "While the public and some of the newer recruits are under the impression that the most recent hunt was merely bad luck. A tragedy, of course, but a one-time fluke... I am in agreement with your assessment of this event, Father Joseph."

Joseph blinked in response, and tilted his head quizzically. Jacob himself was suspicious of Paul's words. While the Monastery and Project had never butted heads, especially during trades, there was an unspoken judgement of the other's practices and beliefs.

"You've finally accepted these monsters to be a sign of the coming end?" John poked, hoping to receive clarification from what he to was hearing.

"Don't misunderstand, I'm not saying this scourge is a sign of this "Collapse" you yap about," Paul responded, the clarification disappointing Joseph and making John frown with narrow eyes, "What I am saying is... the scourge is only going to get worse. The hours of the night longer on each hunt. The beasts stronger. Vicar Laurence... succumbing to this plague is evident of this. What I offer is an accord... that I believe will benefit both our groups greatly."

John's eyes lightened up with intrigue and Joseph's with attentiveness and curiosity. Jacob... didn't know what to make of this though. Not without more information.

"You want more trade?" Jacob prompted, hoping the Hunter's Chief would spill more.

He didn't have to wait long for Paul to immediately reply, like he had been waiting on the question, "Well, not exactly. What I'm offering is a partnership... an alliance. For your brave men and women to join in on the hunts; to put an end to the scourge together."

Jacob paused at Paul's words. Realization hit that Paul didn't merely want to trade numbers; he wanted help in putting down the beast threat for good.

John was grinning ear to ear, taking a step forward to bring Paul's attention on the youngest of the brothers, "You're asking for more than just a trade then?"

Paul gave a half nod and clasped his hands together, "After the Night of Flames, we lost several of our best and oldest hunters to Lau- the beast's rampage, some included being family. Not only that, resources are getting lower as the hunts becomes more frequent and the nights longer, and incense can only ward off beasts for so long. Safe havens such as this monastery are being viewed as unreliable due to Laurence's affliction. Worse yet, the people have just lost their source of hope on the darkest night to date, and gentlemen; while I'm spectacular at giving advice and assurances over radio, I am no good a leader as I am a savvy tactician. Frankly boys... I need your help."

Jacob saw the exhaustion etched in Paul's face return, and for the first time since he's made contact with him, the eldest Seed could see the age weighing down on Paul's struggling shoulders. One man who has given it his all against an adversary far beyond his human limits, and doesn't put his pride above the safety of his people, unafraid of reaching out for help. Jacob could admire that, even if Paul was an opposing force to Joseph's vision.

Unless...

"And what do you offer in return?" Jacob inquired, giving Paul an expectant gaze. While Paul was not someone he could ever hope to influence, he was aware of the Hunter Chief's observations in behavioral patterns and societal expectations that allowed him to create a psychological profile on his target. Not too dissimilar from Jacob himself, "After all, you've already promised us your tools and protection, if we're forming an alliance that puts our people further into danger with the beasts, I expect you have some kind of compensation to give us, right?

As Jacob suspected, he wasn't disappointed with Paul's answer.

"Well, I'm quite aware you boys and your posse desire a shelter from your God's doomsday; and while I'm not superstitious, irony not lost on me, I am quite vengeful against these beasts," Paul spits out, the bloodthirsty wrath tinged in the very roots of his words, "They've made dens out of abandoned silos that keep them out of the sun. Impenetrable to raids and stubborn against our explosives. If we were to get rid of those beasts, that leaves a whole empty construction up for grabs. We hunters have no use for such things, not even as storage; but perhaps, with a bit of repairs and expansion here and there, it can provide your Project everything you want."

Jacob allowed a small smirk to slip past his stoic mask. He gazed to his brothers, and saw both Joseph and John were both as satisfied and elated with Paul's answers as he was.

Joseph took a moment to consider his answer to Paul's offer. While Jacob himself thought the opportunity wasn't something they should sit on, ultimately it was Joseph's final word as the Father that determined the outcome to this meeting.

Joseph glanced to Jacob and John, and received encouraging nods from both.

With one final contemplative thought over the deal, Joseph spoke once more, "These demons only desire to afflict destruction upon us all; including the sinners. They are vile in their service to their own blood lust. If any of us are to reach New Eden after the Collapse, this plague must be purged from its very roots. You have Eden's Gate' word; your hunter's call for help will not go unanswered."

Paul clapped his hands together as he chirpily stated, "Great! We'll go over the details at your place."

Joseph wasn't bothered by Paul's response. John though seemed to want to refute but refrained from ruining the mood. And Jacob was satisfied with the results and benefits the Project would be receiving. As the brothers prepared to make their way to the office door, Paul spoke up.

"Oh, uh, one last thing," Paul held their attention, curiosity piqued, "I request a favor. As you're aware of, my vicar is, well... dead."

Jacob heard Paul mutter out a half-ass "may he rest in pieces" before the older man continued, "And with that position open, there haven't been any candidates too eager to take on the role to calm and take responsibility over our masses. Frankly, I don't want our next Vicar to be too similar to Laurence. Trust and faith in the Hunter's are being called to question and I'd like a fresh young face to ease their worries."

Jacob narrowed his eyes at Paul, his instincts alerted towards the older man's odd request.

"What I'm trying to say Father Joseph is if you have someone you have complete trust and faith in, with proficient experience in easing the doubts of people sharing not unfounded concerns, young enough that they can differentiate themselves from Laurence, but adept enough to take on the role of my people's Vicar without much training. Anyone come to mind?"

Jacob raised a brow at Paul's description. Amongst the Project, he couldn't think much faithful within the family's, nor the herald's inner circle that could fit that description. If Paul was wanting one of them, Jacob still hit a blank wall, considering neither he nor John shared all the qualities Paul desired. The ideal vicar Paul desired didn't fit them anyway, with exception to Joseph and their newest so-called-

He paused, brows slightly furrowed. He glanced to Joseph, and saw that his brother reached the same conclusion but far from skeptical of Paul as he should be.

"I have someone in mind," Joseph answered Paul. Jacob watched as the Chief Hunter leaned back on his chair, a relaxed smile resting on his face, uttering a proud, or perhaps smug, "I knew you would."

And finally OC speech mannerisms for Marissa "Ress" Bishop, Ortega "Ore" Brantley and their father, Arcane Urias from my Fallout series A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore.

MARISSA "RESS" BISHOP (FO3, FONV & FO4)

NO. OF SPOKEN LANGUAGES: 1 / 2 / 3+ (I believe she's learned a lot of languages, especially when being raised by the Bishop family, considering many of their business partners would have been of different ethnicity. The one's she's strongly mastered are English, Chinese, Japanese and French)

TONE OF VOICE: high / average / deep

ACCENT: yes / no

DEMEANOR: confident / shy / approachable / hostile / other (off-putting)

POSTURE: slumped / straight / stiff / relaxed

HABITS: head tilting / swaying / fidgeting / stuttering / gestures / worrying lip / arm crossing / strokes chin / er, um, or other interjections / plays with hair or clothing / hands at hips / inconsistent eye contact / maintains eye contact / frequent pausing / stands close / stands at a distance

— COMPLEXITY

VOCABULARY: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️

EMOTION: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️⚪️

SENTENCE STRUCTURE: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️

— PROFANITY

FREQUENCY: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️

CREATIVITY (in regards to profanity): ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️

BOLD ALL THAT APPLY: arse. ass. asshole. bastard. bitch. bloody. bugger. bollocks. chicken shit. crap. cunt. dick. frick. fuck. horseshit. motherfucker. piss. prick. screw. shit. shitass. son of a bitch. twat. wanker. pussy.

— THIS OR THAT

straightforward or cryptic? / finding the right word or using the first word that comes to mind? / masculinity / neutrality / or femininity / formalities or with abrasiveness? / praise or equivocation? / frankness or lies? / excessive or minimal hand gestures? / name-calling (affectionate) or magnanimity?/ friendly or blunt?

— IMPORTANT QUESTIONS

DO PEOPLE HAVE A HARD TIME HEARING OR UNDERSTANDING YOUR CHARACTER? - almost always / frequently / rarely / never

DOES YOUR CHARACTER’S POINT COME ACROSS EASILY WHEN THEY SPEAK? - almost always / frequently/ sometimes / rarely / never

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER INITIATE CONVERSATIONS? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / never

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER BE THE ONE TO END CONVERSATIONS? - almost always / frequently / sometimes/ rarely / never.

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER USE ‘WHOM’ IN A SENTENCE? - yes / no / only ironically

YOUR CHARACTER WANTS TO MAKE A COUNTERPOINT. WHAT WORD DO THEY USE? - but / though / although / however / perhaps / mayhaps.

HOW DOES YOUR CHARACTER END CONVERSATIONS? - walk away / ask if that’s everything / say that’s everything / gives a proper goodbye (if she likes you well enough) / tell their company they’re done here / remain quiet / they don’t.

WHAT SOCIAL CLASS WOULD OTHERS ASSUME YOUR CHARACTER BELONGS TO, HEARING THEM SPEAK? - upper / middle / lower.

IN WHAT WAYS DOES THE WAY YOUR CHARACTER SPEAK STAND OUT TO OTHERS? - accent / vocabulary / tone / level / politeness / brusqueness / it doesn’t.

ORTEGA "ORE" BRANTLEY (FALLOUT (1997), FO2, FO3, FONV)

NO. OF SPOKEN LANGUAGES: 1 / 2 / 3+ (he's likely picked up a few here and there)

TONE OF VOICE: high / average / deep

ACCENT: yes / no

DEMEANOR: confident / shy / approachable / hostile / other (awkward)

POSTURE: slumped / straight / stiff / relaxed

— COMPLEXITY

VOCABULARY: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️

EMOTION: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️

SENTENCE STRUCTURE: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️⚪️

— PROFANITY

FREQUENCY: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️⚪️

CREATIVITY (in regards to profanity): ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️⚪️

— THIS OR THAT

— IMPORTANT QUESTIONS

DO PEOPLE HAVE A HARD TIME HEARING OR UNDERSTANDING YOUR CHARACTER? - almost always / frequently / rarely / never

DOES YOUR CHARACTER’S POINT COME ACROSS EASILY WHEN THEY SPEAK? - almost always / frequently/ sometimes / rarely / never

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER INITIATE CONVERSATIONS? - almost always / frequently / sometimes / never

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER BE THE ONE TO END CONVERSATIONS? - almost always / frequently / sometimes/ rarely / never.

WOULD YOUR CHARACTER USE ‘WHOM’ IN A SENTENCE? - yes / no / only ironically

YOUR CHARACTER WANTS TO MAKE A COUNTERPOINT. WHAT WORD DO THEY USE? - but / though / although / however / perhaps / mayhaps.

HOW DOES YOUR CHARACTER END CONVERSATIONS? - walk away / ask if that’s everything / say that’s everything / gives a proper goodbye / tell their company they’re done here / remain quiet / they don’t.

WHAT SOCIAL CLASS WOULD OTHERS ASSUME YOUR CHARACTER BELONGS TO, HEARING THEM SPEAK? - upper / middle / lower.

IN WHAT WAYS DOES THE WAY YOUR CHARACTER SPEAK STAND OUT TO OTHERS? - accent / vocabulary / tone / level / politeness / brusqueness / it doesn’t.

ARCANE URIAS (FALLOUT (1997), FO2, FO3, FO4, FO76)

NO. OF SPOKEN LANGUAGES: 1 / 2 (English and his own) / 3+

TONE OF VOICE: high / average / deep

ACCENT: yes / no

DEMEANOR: confident / shy / approachable / hostile / other

POSTURE: slumped / straight / stiff / relaxed

— COMPLEXITY

VOCABULARY: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️

EMOTION: ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

SENTENCE STRUCTURE: ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️

— PROFANITY

FREQUENCY: ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

CREATIVITY (in regards to profanity): ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️