#like he was gaging whether she had the guts to do it

[molinaesque]

"Well, now, that is a very small drop... in a very, very large bucket of drugs."

[doll-r-t]

Syverson helps you through your Migraine

Syverson x disabled!reader

I came out of the most horrible migraine I had in a long time and I just wish I had someone like Sy to take care of me. I am still a bit exhausted but I just wanted to write this

When you woke up it was already late. You woke up slowly your body relaxed from a long, restful night's sleep. Aika climbed up on the bed and immediately lay on top of you trying to get some snuggles in. She was still panting heavily from the workout Syverson and she did. “Hey, baby girl.” Sy was dripping with sweat. “Hm,” you just mumbled still sleepy. He kissed you on your forehead. “Just woke up, hm?” You buried your head deeper into the pillow and nodded. He left without another word. He knew you needed time in the morning before you could talk. So as usual he made your favorite coffee. There was nothing better than coffee in bed. The morning was going well so far you were reading while drinking your morning coffee and could hear Syverson singing some old country song in the shower. He had a pleasant voice, with his sexy southern twang. Aika was napping next to you. You were ready for the day but you could feel something was off.

The longer you were awake the more you could feel the pressure building up in your head. You laid flat on your bed and breathed in deeply into your gut. But the tension in your body did not go away. Your cheeks started tensing up, pulling upwards as if someone was pulling them, your jaw started to lock slowly. The pulsing in your right temple in your head got more prominent and then the pain like small lighting struck through your right eye. You breathed in one more time before getting up opening your bedside drawer and taking your medication. You hated migraines but unfortunately, they were your close companion. You took a sip from your water, trying to breathe out again gaging whether you had to throw up or not. You were starting to overheat, slowly a small sheen of sweat prepared. Your body was cramping and you had no way of stopping this. You just had to wait it out. You tried to get up but it took you a few tries, on the third try Syverson came out of the bathroom.           

      Immediately when he saw you he knew. He quickly came over, softly he whispered. “Sweetheart?” You could not say anything and had no facial expression. You just blinked your eyes to indicate that you heard him. He knew exactly what to do. He went near the light switch and lowered the temperature of the AC. Before going into the kitchen. He pulled out a headwrap from the freezer and put the cooling pads into the pockets. Once he came back into the room you lay underneath the blankets your clothing was next to your bed. He pushed the blanket from your face and helped you sit up. You groaned, your face giving the slighted expression of the horrible pain you were in. He wrapped the cooling pads around your head, it folded them over your eyes. Once it was on you already felt a bit better. The cold always helped you. He handed you the small bottle from your nightstand opening it, it contained concentrated peppermint oil. The smell always helped you against nausea you felt. It did not prevent you from throwing up but at least it helped you ease the nauseating feeling a bit.      

   You laid back into the covering everything around you was cold but it distracted you from the pain, numbing parts of your body. Syverson had made sure Aika was not bothering you she was dutifully laying next to you. It felt good knowing she was there. Syverson had closed the blinds and shut the door. The room was completely quiet and dark which you could not be more thankful for.      

  Syverson was checking the freezer for some popsicles you could eat later when you were a bit better. But for now, he cut a piece of his freshly baked bread and brought it to you. He knew that you did not want to eat but it was necessary to have something in your stomach, especially with the heavy medication you took. He also checked if your favorite tea was still here.    

He returned to the bedroom seeing you lay completely still. It always tugged at his heart seeing you like this. He handed you the bread without saying anything. You two had discussed what to do in case you had a migraine early on in your relationship. You were stubborn in the beginning saying that you did not want to be a burden but he was persistent in showing you that your condition is not a burden and you were not one either. It was just something to deal with. He liked taking care of you anyways but he hated seeing you in pain. So when he experienced an episode for the first time his protective instincts kicked into gear. You raised your hand slowly biting one piece of the bread slowly with great effort eating it. Once Sy saw you eating he quietly left the room again. He would check in on you every half an hour just to make sure there was nothing you needed. But the best thing is you are left alone right now. Late once your medication kicked in he would come and snuggle you a bit.      

   You sighted out in relief slowly the medication started to kick in you felt it tingling in your hands and then the pressure in your eyes lessened. You started to move your arms and legs gauging your body's reaction. Your limps were cold and now that the pain was reducing your started to shiver. It was too cold now, so you slowly sat up. That’s good, you did not feel nauseous or like your head was going to split in two. It was always tricky sometimes when you thought you were good and got up all relieved you realized you were still fucked.        

It was like Syverson had a sixth sense and before you could get off the bed the door opened. You flinched at the light but otherwise, you were okay. He walked up to you quickly trying to read your face. Your eyes went to the closet. He turned to look at what you were pointing at, and he nodded, quickly getting up. He pulled out your favorite soft PJs. Slowly he helped you into them mindful of not letting his rough hands touch your sensitive body just yet. Instead of falling into bed straight away, you leaned forward snuggling into him. He held you for a second before pushing you to lay down again. This time, however, after closing the door, he climbed into bed with you. The AC was still blasting cold air, and it felt so good while you were snuggled warm in Sy’s arms slowly falling asleep. Like this, you could get through any migraine

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[palidan-sheep]

How do you think the companions would react if Sole had to cut off their own limb to get out of a trap or otherwise save their life?

Another interesting one, I like these! Thank you Anon.

Situation/scenario- Sole found themselves in a hard place between a rocky wall and a fallen boulder, their beloved arm caught between the two. Their arm below their elbow was far from saving, bone turned into dust and flesh mashed into a paste-all that jazz!

So after enough chems to kill a deathclaw and a grizzly few hours later, Sole stumbles homes, missing an arm but still alive and conscious.

Cait-

“Shite, you look like you’ve been through the ringer.”

Despite the playful words, Cait is an absolute mess of stress, worry, and panic.

She’ll be running around bossing and barking command at people despite not really knowing how to go about fixing up a wound this massive.

She can’t offer much help asides for tons of booze and moral support.

Cuire-

There’s some correlation here with what Cuire said back at the memory den after she became human and the situation presented-I’m too dumb brain to figure it out tho.

Panic 100%. Flurry of words that make no sense but she knows what she’s doing.

Immediately takes charge upon the situation, no explanation needed.

Despite this, she has a hard time telling the others what to do and considering the situation at hand, everyone a mess. She depends on a louder voice to voice her request and commands.

Danse-

“You’ve got guts, I’ll admit that soldier, but was it really necessary?”

He’s seen some shit in his life so this doesn’t have too much of an effect upon him(unless they are dating in which case, he’s a fucking mess.)

He only retains basic medical skills so he helps with what he knows that he’s capable of but leaves the rest to medics.

He won’t leave Soles side unless asked to via a medic or sole themselves. Fancy lad cakes and moral support.

Deacon-

“Alright, alright, alright, I get it. I won’t complain the next time I get a splinter.”

Humor. Lots of humor.

Asides for splinters and the occasional gun shot, he has no idea how to help other then tons of stimpacks and Med-x.

Laugh away the pain. Laughter is the best medicine after all.

Gage-

“Holy Shit Boss...”

Rather then seeing this a weakness, he sees this as a strength. Sole’s got the gull to do shit like that, the they certainly got the gull to whip Nuka-World into shape.

He’s, shockingly, has some experience in medical care but no one really trust him to help Sole. 

Hes there by Sole’s side but like no one really wants him to be there, they have no idea when he last cleaned himself. 

Hancock-

“I hope the reason why you had to do this was a good reason, like it was bitten off by a deathclaw or something, now take this, it’ll help with the pain until we can find you some help.”

On the outside he’s cool as a cucumber but on the inside, he’s a shit-show and a half. a few nervous leg jitters here and there and lots of chem usage. though he tries to be mindful about how much he uses, never know when sole will find themselves wishing for the sweet release of death.

He’s too chemmed out to even entertain the idea of being a doctor, one fuck up could be the difference between life or death.

Whether Sole asked for it or not, he’ll start to make up sorties about how they lost their arm. No body believes him but its funny at least. 

MacCready-

“Heh, that's uh...that's quite the wound wouldn’t ya say?...we need to find you a doctor, like now.”

Like most others, he’s seen his far share of blood and bone and normal it doesn’t effect him too much but since its Sole, someone he cares about, he’s a nervous reck.

He has no confidence in his medical skills while being nervous, afraid that if he had to stich up the wound, he’d jerk and snag something important like a nerve or some body thing.

Concerned Father watching over their severely ill child. 

Nick-

“Well isn’t this quite a predicament we are in? Guess I’ll start working on your mechanical hand.”

He’s not shocked that your missing an arm, he’s more shocked that you actual had the guts to do it. He’s being serious too, he’s got some connections that could help in making you a function prosthetic.

in terms of medical skills, he has none. On top of being a robot, his hands don't offer very much help, sure he can be super technical like stiches but his metal hand has done more damage then he’d like to admit. 

He’ll inquire about the situation after the dust has settled until then, he just offers some advice for living without a limb. 

Piper-

“B-BLUE!”

She’s. A. Fucking. Mess.

A Incoherent and in shambles mess.

She’s the last person you would want to be around in situation such as Sole’s. Remaining clam is the best way to go about this and Piper is the farthest thing from clam.  

Preston-

“General! you were gone for a day! A single DAY!” 

Everyday, his will to live shrinks. 

 He has no idea what he’s doin when it comes to a wound that big. Yeah sure, just like everyone else, he can patch up a bullet hole or stich up a slash if needs be but he has no idea where to start when it comes to a missing limb.

He’s good company, offers great moral support and lots of “eat the pain away.”

X6

“You’ve got guts ma’am/sir, it will only help to prove that you’re willing to do anything to help further improve the Institute.”

Sole, whether or not it was their intentions, has more of X6′s respect and admiration for this feat.

He’s pretty skilled with medical care and definitely prefers it if he the one who take charge in patching up the wound.

Not very good company. 

[sisterspooky1013]

Damsels, Chapter Eight: They Don’t Want to be Found

By SisterSpooky1013 / Read previous chapters here

Rated E / Tagging @today-in-fic

Mulder calls in to work the next day, too sleep deprived and mentally exhausted to function. After sleeping until nearly noon, he gets back in his car and returns to Philly. He checks into a hotel that’s just a few blocks from the club and then spends the next several hours trying to watch TV, trying to read, and jacking off picturing Scully topless. A short time later, he jacks off again, this time imagining what he’ll see tonight.

He isn’t really sure what he’s doing or why he’s here. The best excuse he can cook up is that she doesn’t have a weapon and he’s protecting her, but realistically he knows she can take care of herself. Is it really just perversion, that he wants to see her…exposed? What will he say if she spots him? He can imagine her level of mortification if she knew he was here, that he’d seen her, and he feels guilt churn in his gut. She might never forgive him for this.

He knows it’s wrong, but he can’t seem to stop himself from going back. He has to see her again.

Scully had lay awake for hours after Angel left, thinking about what had happened, wondering how it happened in the first place. She’s on a case, how stupid could she be? What if it comes to light that she’s become involved with a witness in the case? She might be suspended. At least then maybe they’d never ask her to do something like this again. What if Mulder finds out? Would he feel betrayed somehow? Would it turn him on?

Somewhere around 6 am, she had finally caved in and slid her hand down the front of her panties, groaning when she felt how wet she was. She swirled her finger around her clit, using her own arousal as lubricant, and imagined what might have happened if Angel’s phone hadn’t rung. Would Angel have touched her? With her hands, or her mouth? Maybe both. Would she have touched Angel? She was approaching the brink just thinking about it. She stopped suddenly, remembering something, and grabbed the bullet vibrator from her bedside table, switching it on and pressing it to her clit as she plunged the middle finger of her other hand as far inside herself as she could reach. Within 30 seconds she was unravelling, images of Angel and Mulder dancing in her head as her walls clamped tightly around her finger. Finally, she had slept.

She manages to sleep until nearly three in the afternoon again, then spends the day getting her nails done, reading, and devising a plan for how she might look through the files in that closet. Without knowing what’s in them, she has no way of gaging whether Ricky is likely to notice if she takes a few at a time and returns them later. Worse still, Lexie is working tonight and that gives any risk she takes the potential to blow the whole investigation. She’s positive that given one more red flag, Lexie will sing like a canary. The silver lining is that Angel won’t be at work for the next three days, so they can get some space from what happened between them.

The evening is mostly business as usual, and she’s a bit horrified to realize that this is becoming as dull and predictable as any other job. She lets her mind wander while she flexes and rolls over horny married men, wondering what Mulder is up to, whether he’s worried about her or even misses her. Part of her wonders if he might realize that his life is less complicated without her, and that he prefers it that way. She feels an ache in her chest, a bit further north than she has grown accustomed to, and realizes how much she misses him.

When he enters the club, she’s at the bar. Half her torso is resting on the bar top as she shouts to be heard by the bartender, who’s laughing at whatever she’s saying. The position she’s in pops her barely covered ass out prominently behind her and his eyes go big at how exposed she is, and how comfortable she seems with it. Her bare breasts are smushed against the lacquered countertop and he feels his cock twitch thinking about how hard her nipples will be when she stands up. Unfortunately, it would be too risky to stick around and find out, so he tugs his ball cap lower and finds a table in the back. The dancers never seem to come back here for some reason.

He keeps his head trained towards one of the other dancers at all times, while his eyes follow Scully’s every move. If he knows one thing, it’s that Scully can feel his eyes on her, so he needs to be careful. His disguise is painfully basic and all it would take is one solid look for her to know it’s him. He watches her give a lap dance to a blushing young woman, a soft smile on her face the whole time, and he can’t decide if he’s more turned on or touched by how hard she’s working to make the woman feel comfortable. The aching hard-on in his jeans suggests the former.

This time he’s mentally prepared for her stage set, and also realizes she can barely see beyond the tip rail with all the stage lights on her, so he lets himself enjoy it. He’s known from the moment he met her that Scully is beautiful, sexy, incredible in every way imaginable, but he never could have imagined her moving like this. She’s so graceful and captivating. He lets himself block out all the other jerks who are leering at her, stuffing bills into her underwear, and just watches her. His Scully. She’s ethereal.

“Seems like you’ve found your ATF,” a voice to his left startles him from his reverie.

“Huh?” he turns to see the same waitress who’d served him last night, clad in a fishnet body suit.

“You were here last night, right? You like Desi?”

He panics. “No! I mean, yes. But, don’t send her over here or anything.”

She nods in understanding. “You like to watch. That’s cool, whatever floats your boat, man. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Yeah, can I get a Captain and Coke?” He walked here, why not enjoy himself, right?

Four drinks for him and ten lap dances for her later, he stumbles into the balmy night and back to his hotel room where he jacks off again. Twice.

Everyone is trickling out slowly at the end of what has been a busy shift. Scully takes her time counting her tips, sharing a cut with her bird dog and the bartender on shift tonight. While she would not say that she likes working here by any stretch of the imagination, her coworkers at the club are her only source of socialization and (with the exception of Lexie) she truly enjoys their company. She’s helping one of the custodial staff, a wiry young man they called Don Juan, put up the chairs on the club floor so he can mop when Ricky approaches her.

“Desi, can I see you in my office, please?” He has a somber demeanor that concerns her.

“Um, sure, of course.” She bids the young man farewell and follows Ricky down the hall. He closes the door behind them and she feels her heart start to race.

Ricky sits down behind his desk and motions for her to take a seat across from him. She’s reminded of her first day here and the feelings of fear and anticipation.

“I need to ask you something, Desi, and I want to make sure you don’t mention it to the other girls.”

“Okay,” she responds, taking shallow breaths to obscure the fact that she’s afraid.

“Angel told me what happened.”

Her mouth falls open but no words come out. Is she in trouble for kissing Angel?

“That’s why she was so upset the other night, when you saw her in here. She told me that she’d talked to you about her past a bit,” he shakes his head ruefully. “Some gall those dirtbags have, shaming her for being sexual in any way, then coming to a titty club on the sly.”

She breathes a sigh of relief. “Right, yes, the people who came in. She was very upset. “

“It was really nice of you to spend some time with her after work. Anyway, I gave her a few nights off. She needs a break.”

Scully nods. “You wanted to ask me something?”

“Right! So, Angel is my right hand gal, she helps me with a lot of stuff around here. With her being out, I wanted to ask you to kind of be her backup, if you will.”

For a moment she’s afraid Ricky is asking her to perform some kind of sexual favor, but she recalls that Angel had said he’s gay. “What did you have in mind?” she asks hesitantly.

“Well mostly, I wanted to give you a set of keys for the club. Angel has one, in case something happens to me and I’m not here to open and close the doors, stuff like that.”

A set of keys? Scully feels a flush of adrenaline. “Of course, I can do that.”

“That’d be great, Desi. I know you haven’t been with us all that long, but you seem pretty trustworthy, at least compared to the other girls. Like I mentioned, I’m hoping we can keep this between us, just so there are no hurt feelings from anyone who’s been here longer than you.”

Her heart is pounding with excitement at the opportunity to gain access to those files. “Is there an alarm code or something I should know about?” She recalls a sign on the door for ADT.

Ricky dismisses her concern with a flick of his wrist. “No, nothing like that. I should get one, but I just pilfered those signs from my buddy to scare off vagrants.”

She nods in understanding.

“Ninety-nine percent chance nothing will happen and there’ll be no need, but thanks for being on deck, just in case,” he says as he hands her a playboy bunny shaped keychain with a single key dangling from it.

Scully smiles at him. “I’m more than happy to help.”

After she leaves the club, she first goes home to stash her tips and change into comfortable, dark clothes, and then gets a big cup of coffee and a disposable camera from the 7-11 near her apartment.

By the time she’s lurking in the corner of the club’s parking lot, watching the door, it’s nearly 4am and there’s still a light on inside the foyer. She sips her coffee and waits, shuffling her feet to keep warm. Finally at 4:50, Denny and Ricky emerge, locking the door behind them. After they leave the parking lot, Scully waits another 20 minutes before she creeps around the perimeter of the lot and approaches the door. Glancing around to be sure no one is watching her, she turns the key and steps inside, locking it behind her.

The quiet stillness is eerie in contrast to the throbbing hive of activity it had been earlier in the night and she flicks on her flashlight, making her way to Ricky’s office. She fits the same front door key into the lock and sighs in relief when it turns. Ricky’s security standards aren’t incredibly high, apparently, but in this case it’s to her advantage. She tries the key on the hallway closets just in case, to no avail, and returns to the office. Navigating to his desk, she pulls open drawers quickly, scanning their contents. Nothing is of interest, and she’s disappointed though not surprised that his keys to other areas of the club aren’t in here. That makes things more challenging, but not impossible. She’s spent her days off at the library researching how to pick locks, including buying a lock picking kit and some padlocks at the local hardware store to practice with, and she feels relatively confident she can get this door open without a key. She might just have to be the one to pick the lock next time she and Mulder have the need. She smiles to herself knowing how impressed he’d be.

Back in the hallway, she pulls the small lock picking kit out of her back pocket and kneels in front of the door, the pen light perched between her teeth. She studies the lock and then inserts a torque wrench at the bottom, turning it slightly to put resistance in the direction it will spin when unlocked. From the kit, she selects a straight, flat pick and runs it from back to front at the top of the keyhole a couple times. Next she exchanges it for a pick with a curved end, pushing it as far back and high as she can reach as she holds her ear close to the lock in the stony silence of the hallway. Bumping against the pins inside the lock, she listens and feels for a small click or give that indicates the pin has settled in its unlocked position. She continues this until she counts five pins clicking into place, then removes the pick and turns the torque wrench.

The lock releases with a soft click and she laughs out loud as the door swings open, beyond pleased with herself. Stepping into the closet, there’s enough room for her to close the door behind her and she does so, pulling a cord to turn on the overhead light. Taking stock of the beige bank of file cabinets, she works top to bottom, left to right, and immediately feels her heart sink when the first four drawers she tries are empty. Would this be yet another dead end? When the fifth drawer snicks open, she sees a small set of files hanging towards the back. She quickly checks all the other drawers so she’ll have a good idea of how much material she has to review, but they’re all empty.

She pulls the files out and sits down with them on the floor, setting the disposable camera near her thigh. There are eight folders nestled inside the hanging file, each one with a set of initials on the tab. The first one is marked “G.A.” and inside she finds an intake form, a personal statement that’s filled out by hand, and a release of liability form. The intake form is sparse and includes nearly no identifying information. The name is listed as simply GA and the fields below it include “entry date,” “exit date,” “reason for sheltering,” and “responsible individual.” On the form for GA, the entry and exit date are both a year and a half prior, about six months apart. Reason for sheltering is listed as “threat of violence-domestic,” and the responsible individual reads “brother.” She turns to the second page, which contains GA’s personal statement.

Continue Reading Here

[commonwealthoccurences]

Companions React: Masked, Teenager Sole

Note: Deacon has a full imagine due to it being the original request, which can be found under the title “The Kids From Yesterday.” Enjoy!

Cait:

Nosy about Sole’s identity

The fact that they’re so secretive makes her extra suspicious about their motives, especially when she first becomes their companion

Will probably straight up start arguments about it, and it honestly does become a barrier in her trusting them

(Maybe it’s just an excuse she’s using not to trust them)

Eventually it settles into an unspoken agreement that they agree to disagree; Sole knows she doesn’t like their secrecy and Cait knows they don’t fully trust her either due to how guarded they have to be

Doesn’t appreciate it when other people push to find Sole’s identity, though

She can yell at them about it but no one else can, that’s her job

When she eventually has to remove Sole’s helmet due to them getting injured, she’s outwardly horrified

They remind her of herself when she was younger; young and vulnerable and put in dangerous positions no teenager should be a part of

She’s terrified for them and that shows itself as anger, considering that’s the only way she really knows how to show emotion

When they wake up they argue, but eventually she gives them her reasoning

She becomes extremely protective and is more ready than ever to spill blood over someone threatening Sole

No one was around and willing to protect her when she needed it as a teenager; Sole doesn’t have to deal with the same if she’s there, though

Curie:

Doesn’t particularly let the anonymity bother her

She notices, of course, how closely they guard their identity and the fact that they never show their face, or any part of their body, but that doesn’t hinder their efficiency so she doesn’t think much of it

Finds them to be delightful company and doesn’t need a face to know that

That’s about it. She may ask the occasional question about their background out of curiosity or ask their reasoning for hiding identifying features, but other than that she doesn’t really react to the hiding

When Sole gets injured and she finds out their identity she’s definitely surprised

She asks them what led them to taking up the mantle they have (General, Railroad recruit, etc) when they shouldn’t have to have that responsibility at such a young age

They’ve clearly proved themself capable, so she doesn’t tend to question them so much

However she does make sure to sneak in ways to let them be a teenager and not the Sole the Commonwealth knows

She asks them to join her on short walks, help her cook, etc

Makes sure to help them stay anonymous to others

Danse:

Absolutely not impressed

A security threat he doesn’t want to deal with

How is he supposed to verify they’re decent and vouch for them if he doesn’t even know who they are

Not to mention the potential for someone to pretend to be them and gain access to the Prydwen

Makes a begrudging exception if Maxson requests so or they turn out to be a fantastic asset

Doesn’t really stop prying, though (A small part of that is his own curiosity)

After they’ve known each other a while he gets defensive over other people prying into Sole’s identity

“They’re highly respected for a reason, I don’t think their appearance is any of your business, now is it?”

When he has to remove their helmet he’s shocked but doesn’t fully react

Sure, the situation’s unfortunate, however many Brotherhood recruits start young

Does have doubts as to whether or not a teenager can handle the workload and make the decisions required of Sole, but realizes eventually that they’ve already been making those choices

Is wary of them overworking themself but it isn’t a big conversation

Gage:

Struggles a bit with not being in the loop, but plenty of raiders don’t show their faces

If they get their work done and don’t fuck things up, he doesn’t particularly care what they look like or where they come from

Sure he’s curious and makes small attempts to find out what they look like but it’s not a big issue for him

Does ask about their past every now and then just to see if they’ll slip up

When he finds out their age and what they look like he finds himself more upset than he’d expected

The things he’d required them to do weren’t pretty and yet they hadn’t hesitated, even seemed to be trying to surpass his expectations

They lived in a shitty world but things like this really hit him in the gut and drive that point home

Goes a little easier on them afterwards but doesn’t make a discussion out of it and no longer pries

Also uses the respect angle as a way to get raiders to stop asking questions

Hancock:

Unashamed prier

Doesn’t hesitate to try and get them to expose their past

It’s playful teasing to him so unless Sole draws a line or seems extremely uncomfortable, he’s not gonna stop

Doesn’t really think there’s anything to their anonymity other than maybe them having a situation similar to Mac; someone hiding from raiders or the Gunners

Once they earn his respect his jokes get a little less invasive and he starts letting them have their secrets

When he sees they’re a teenager he’s pretty upset

They’ve been travelling the Commonwealth fighting things that no sane adult would go up against in their dreams and they’re just a kid in his eyes

Doesn’t really know what to do

Has a talk with them about letting him protect them a bit more

He doesn’t feel right having a teenager try and take bullets for him

He’s not upset at them he’s upset for them and all they shouldn’t’ve had to do

Haylen:

Another believer in the security risk issue

If they prove themself loyal, though, she doesn’t have too much of a problem

Does ask questions about their past but not to pry, more because she genuinely wants to get to know them

As long as they’re capable, though, she leaves anything regarding their appearance and past alone

That’s about it before they reveal their face

Afterwards she’s somewhat upset

She doesn’t often question Maxson, but he’s sending a teenager on dangerous missions that should be completed by the upper ranks of the Brotherhood

Mostly just angered by the fact that they have no one to stand up and protect them when a bunch of adults are asking them to do dangerous things for their own benefit

MacCready:

Respects the anonymity

Honestly a little jealous he didn’t think to go anon

Doesn’t ask anything in the beginning; he’s getting paid to protect them not for small talk

Does suspect they’re running from something

As they get closer he asks a few questions but doesn’t really pressure them to talk about their past

When he finds out Sole’s a teenager he’s possibly the most effected out of all the companions

He feels sick and immediately thinks of Duncan; this was somebody’s child. What if it was his kid in this position, with all these expectations on his shoulders?

Immediately activates dad mode, to the point where Sole might find it a little suffocating

“There has to be someone out there missing you, kid. Why are you out here doing all this dangerous sh- stuff?”

The dad mode thing doesn’t really switch off unless they’re in public; implying a familial connection could make things more dangerous

He does protect them in combat situations more, though, and usually has an eye on them at all times

Nick:

A little wary of their unwillingness to be identified, but can’t be too annoyed about it

There’s plenty of tactics to stay alive in the Commonwealth and theirs seems to be working for them quite well

Does wonder how they manage to avoid slipping up and revealing something about themself so well (he is a detective after all)

May make sly comments to see if they do mess up but other than that he leaves the identity situation alone

They’re respectable and they respect him, so that’s enough in his eyes

When he finds out they’re a teenager he, like Gage, is reminded of just how much the world has changed

He’s disgusted that a teenager has been put in a situation where they feel they need to make theses sacrifices for everyone

God knows the adults aren’t really doing it

Becomes a lot more defensive of them but not to the point Mac goes to

Checks up on them a lot more often, too

Makes sure they take breaks from the difficult tasks

Piper:

She’s a reporter; you really expect her to do anything other than pry?

Seriously does everything she can think of to get them to slip up and reveal something about themself

Even tries to bribe them

When it doesn’t work she sulks a little and mulls over her next plan

Eventually she isn’t so forthright with it but she never really stops trying

Makes it clear that she does respect Sole for their personality and what they do, though

When she finds out it all makes sense to her and she feels guilty for being so persistent

Becomes a bit protective over them as well; she couldn’t imagine if Nat was put in their position

Tries to make it clear through her actions that they have a home with her and Nat if they need somewhere to go or a family, since it seems like they don’t have one of their own

Preston:

Are they efficient? Do they respect the settlers? Do they have a good heart and want to help the Commonwealth? Good enough for him

He doesn’t have the time or energy to try and dig into why they don’t want to show their face

He’s admittedly a little curious but it’s none of his business and he makes sure that they know he knows that

A little more reluctant to just let it go once they become General considering there’s more at stake, but what else is he gonna do

It’s not like anyone else was willing to lead, and they seem to be doing a damn good job at it

When they get injured and he finds out why they hid their appearance, he’s somewhat upset

At himself for putting so much pressure on a teenager, at Sole for not being straightforward and allowing him to push them so much, and at the world for putting them both in a situation where there’s no other option

Moving forward he asks a little less of them and tries to step up even more to take some of their workload

Definitely helps quell the settlers asking questions about Sole and their identity

Sturges:

Pretty similar to Preston

Doesn’t ask too many questions as long as they’re a respectable leader

When he finds out he takes a minute to be frustrated with the situation and then moves on

Their armor and weapons are always priority for repair, however, and he asks them quite often if they need his assistance with something

X6-88:

Internally he’s quite unwilling to believe they’re good enough for the job the Institute’s given them, but he doesn’t express this other than with a few snide comments

They could be a major security risk but the decision has been made and he’s not in much of a place to protest

He does try to investigate them on his own, without asking them questions directly, but comes up empty handed, which irritates him further

When he finds out he’s alarmed

The fate of the Institute, and therefore the Commonwealth, as been put in the hands of a teenager

His reaction to protect them even more isn’t quite out of concern for their wellbeing, and more out of concern for the Institute if they were to die

Isn’t impressed

[fallout-drabbles-n-stuff]

Pining/romanced companions react to a sole who got stuck in the oddest place in the most awkward position + helping them out but it involves some awkward touching and positioning! (Ps i love reading your blog, always makes my day 😁❤)

(Thank you so much for your patience, lovely!)

Cait:

"Ha! Oh wait, I'm sorry- I shouldn't laugh atcha. Don't give me that look, I'll get you out- just...wish I had me one of those working cameras."

Her automatic way of deflecting her awkward feelings was by trying to use humor.

Despite that, she is honestly pretty chill with the situation. Cait herself has very little shame, so the very most she would feel is discomfort in fear of overstepping some of your bounds with the way she has to touch you.

Curie:

"Sacrebleu! Are you alright? Can you still move all of your limbs..? Just, remain calm madam/monsieur, I'll go get help!"

Her first priority is to make sure that you can safely be released- not even once thinking of the inevitable.

She of course is aware of her feelings towards you, being practically slammed with them each and every time you smile at her. However that feeling of pining doesn't interfere with her ability to ensure your well being. All feelings put aside, she will not rest until she has you out.

Danse:

"....*curses under his breath*...Don't worry soldier, I'll have you out in no time."

Wouldn't it have been nicer just to have shot him in the foot? Danse surely thought so. Once he assessed you and found that you were physically okay, his gut would clench up with nerves- having realized what his next step would be.

It was so silly, he was a grown man- a Paladin for Pete's sake, and he was reluctant to grasp you in such a way just because of his feelings for you. For this, he would later ridicule himself.

He's absolutely dead  whenever he realizes that at one point he has to stand directly in front of you to free you, inadvertently putting your face close to his crotch. Yes, his souls just completely leaves his body after that.

Deacon:

"Shit, well- let me go get the oil and we'll see what we can do."

No. Just no.

Deacon doesn't like being touched himself, so holding you in such a light as well combined with his general discomfort for human contact leaves him in a very tough predicament.

He isn't kidding. He will go get the oil goddamnit.

Gage:

"Woah, must be my lucky day! That's quite the nice view you're providin' boss. Hey, I'm just joking.."

He's not.

Gage knows better than to overstep his bounds..but he also knows when a glorious opportunity presents itself.

If only for a moment, he will unashamedly take in the view before -quite terribly- attempting to force you out of whatever you are stuck on.

Hancock:

"Well well, this sure is one heck of a pickle you've gotten yourself stuck in...heh, not funny? Too soon? Well never mind that then, sit tight."

Hancock? Uncomfortable with touching someone? Please.. Okay, maybe he is a little nervous about doing it to you, but that doesn't mean he is going to show it one little bit.

He'll play it cool, get you free in no time.

Macready:

"Hey boss...you do know that this wasn't a part of the route, right? I'm just joking, sheesh. Relax, I'll um, well, I'll try.."

Does he seem like he's doing good? Because internally? He's a hot mess.

Macready is pretty immature, so the mere thought of having to touch you mad position you in suggestive ways makes him both chuckle and blush like an idiot. Had you been anyone else, he probably just would've said "tough luck."

Maxson:

"Fuck.."

He didn't even mean to say something so brash, it being "unbecoming" of someone in his position to do so. In his defense, he couldn't think straight after seeing you in such a compromising position- his mind torn between thinking of how screwed you both were if you were ambushed..and how he'd have to pull you out of your position by some rather unfavorable means. Well...he wouldn't mind them too much.

Nonetheless, Arthur ends up fumbling terribly and making a fool out of himself more than he already had.

Nick:

"Dear heavens, okay kiddo, I need you to stay calm and still.."

Those feelings he harbors for you play no device in this. All he knows is that he needs to get you free.

Old Longfellow:

"Now how in the blazes did you wind up like that? No wonder you were taking so long cap'n, heh, I'm just pulling your leg.....literally."

Gets a kick out of it, not even thinking about the fact that he was actually going to have to maneuver you around-

However he is no child, he's touched plenty of ladies/men in his lifetime. But..feelings do complicate things, don't they?

Piper:

"For the love of everything good.."

She's totally cursing herself at this point, only to look down and blush when she realizes you thought she was making a remark towards your current predicament. Afterwards she'd make a huge deal about telling you that isn't at all what she meant and how sorry she was...rambling so much that you current position is lost on her until you give an irate "ahem".

Preston:

"Oh damn, um, just let me know...*starts trailing off* if I need to stop..."

Oh god, oh fuck..why did he just say that?!?!

He instantly is reduced to a bumbling mess. His usual smooth charisma being reduced down to the equivalent of a super mutant's.

Please have mercy on him. He might even make himself get stuck too..

Sturges:

"Shucks, uhhh- dontcha worry one bit, I'll get ya out of there."

He doesn't know whether to think himself lucky or cursed.

He's had his fair share of being stuck himself, so he at least knows how to move you around just in case that was an issue. That being said, he can't get the vision of your forced position out of his head no matter how hard he might try.

X6-88:

"How do you even manage to do these kinds of things? Never mind that ma'am/sir, remain as still as possible."

By nature, X6 is unreadable. His emotions hardly ever seem to surface, this predicament brings forth no exceptions.

Even if on the inside he is doing a little victory dance.

[hancocksspouse]

Please do Gage/Solesurvivor #38 pretty please 🥺🥺❤ ps I love your blog

Aww thanks so much, darling! I think I know what to do with this prompt ☺️

38- because they’re running out of time

-

Her chin rested against the thumbs of her folded hands, elbows balanced on her knees while she looked up at Gage’s back. Her jaw clenched tightly as she squeezed her eyes shut.

This was the last situation she expected to be in but with the hits continuing to roll in, she couldn’t afford to be surprised anymore.

She never intended on being the Raider King. All she did was follow a Nuka World signal. How was she supposed to know it would lead to this?

And now, here she was, making herself sick over an unavoidable decision.

She appreciated Gage. She really did and she wasn’t too proud to admit that if it weren’t for him, she probably wouldn’t have made it through the end of the gauntlet but what he was proposing and asking her to do...

She couldn’t do it.

There was a plethora of shitty things she had done in her life, but what he was asking of her now was far more detrimental than telling someone an ugly outfit looked great or their awful haircut looked good. Every settlement in the Commonwealth had been settlements she had helped reclaim and rebuild for the people to reclaim their sense of livelihood and pride in both survival and the people willing to help them.

And he was asking her to jeopardize all of that by bringing the Nuka World Raiders to them.

She swallowed hard and looked from her bouncing knee once again to Gage’s back. It was evening right now and he stood in front of the windows with a bottle in hand, sipping on the soda in it.

It was outright exhausting how long she spent racking her brain for a while at around this, but soon, the realization hit her in the center of her gut. Whether it be first or last...

She would have to kill Gage.

It couldn’t be immediate or out of the clear blue or else she’d be one man armying her way through an entire park of headcases but the point still stood. Before the end of it, she would have to kill the man that helped her survive Nuka World. Her thumbs rubbed circles against her temples and she did her best to swallow down her emotions, keep her eyes from watering. If she could keep them contained within the park, she could perhaps keep him alive but if he insisted on expanding into the wealth, that would have to be it.

A contingency plan needed to be put in place and soon. Now, in fact.

Soon, she rose from her spot on the chair and approached Gage, looking out over the park beside him, watching the rabble below drinking and partying.

“Gotta hand it to ‘em”, he said, wiping his mouth with his thumb. “They’re a bunch of absolute crazy bastards but ain’t nobody party the way Nuka raiders do”. A chuckle leaves him as he continues to watch. Doll nods, crossing her arms.

“Yea, I noticed...Gage”, she said, anxiety rising in her throat. He nods his head her way, eyes still looking out below. “I never did thank you for helping me survive the gauntlet”. A shrug rattles his armor and he takes another sip of his drink.

“Ain’t no thing, Boss. Had a feelin’ you’d be good for the job”, he said. “Don’t be gettin’ all soft on m-“

Her hands on his face cut him off and he’s forced to turn his head in her direction, allowing her to kiss him firmly, hands locking behind the nape of his neck. It throws him off enough that he freezes for a moment before reaching over with his free hand and wrapping it around her waist.

The clock was now ticking. She would have to plan on how best to take out all the other gangs and him. And she felt even worse for it.

But she could take solace in the fact that he would fight back...

—-

I hope this is to your liking! I really do like how quickly you can 180 the relationship between Sole and Gage. One raider and boom, the whole town goes nuts.

Again, I’m sorry it’s taken so long, friend.

Take care!

[raiders-r-us]

Imagine! Gage and SS sharing beds they find out in the wastes because “I ain’t sleepin’ in no fuckin’ dirt” and everything is fine until Gage starts developing FEELINGS and every night he’s more and more nervous and weird while Sole-who is completely oblivious-goes on as usual. She woke up with her legs entangled in his and holding his hand one morning and she was like “lmao whoops” while Gage was internally screaming. I have a lot of thoughts OKAY

Okay This^^^? FLAWLESS

• At first Gage doesn’t think anything of it, it was his suggestion after all. Sure he feels a subtle stirring in his gut when he watches Sole climb into bed with him, but he chalks it up to the fact that they missed dinner that night

• The trouble begins when he wakes up

• There she is, sleeping softly beside him; hair a tousled mess, her lips parted just slightly. He has never seen her so peaceful

• He acts extra grumpy all day to compensate for the hammering in his chest; sure, Boss was hot, but there was no way in hell this crush was a good thing

• He tries every day to push it back, but the more they share a bed the more comfortable Sole is just relaxing into him; so more often than not Gage hardly gets any sleep, torn up by the personal moral conundrum of whether or not letting her cuddle up to him when she doesn’t know his feelings is even remotely okay

• In reality, he is just afraid that if he lets himself relax with her, he’ll just be disappointed when they’re back at home base and things return to normal

• Sole on the other hand, is having the best sleep she’s had since the bombs dropped. She was married, you don’t sleep next to someone for years and just immediately adjust to sleeping alone. She has no qualms about using Gage as a human furnace.

• Always though, everytime he actually falls asleep, he wakes up with her curled up comfortably against him

• Most mornings, he very carefully slips out of bed, working on fine tuning his weapons, or maybe getting in a good workout, to occupy his mind

• If he can’t slip away, he sits there in silent terror, not daring to let himself relax, but not able to bring himself to wake her. When he feels her start to stir, he’ll pretend to be asleep so she’ll get out of bed first and he can pretend he didn’t notice

• The trouble is, she doesn’t always get out of bed. Sometimes she’ll pull the blanket over her shoulder and snuggle right into his chest. These mornings, he swears his soul leaves his body

• The day they’re set to return to Fizztop, to their own beds, is one such morning.

• Gage is laying there, anxious as ever, telling himself it will all go away once this is over, there is no sense in dwelling on it, a lady like her wouldn’t be interested in a guy like him. The fact that she’s nuzzled into his chest means nothing, maybe she doesn’t know she’s doing it, maybe people pre-war were just weird. Either way, best to just...get through this morning and move on

• Gage’s train of thought is cut short by a soft whisper. “Gage.” He tenses up beneath her touch as she pats him on the chest. “I can hear your heart beating like a damn machine gun; I know you’ve been awake.”

• He opens his eye, and he feels all the color leave his face

• She smiles, planting a teasing kiss on his flushed cheek. “It’s okay, you big softy, I like you too.”

• It’s still a while before Gage’s heartbeat slows to a healthy rhythm, but it’s safe to say that after all those hours lying awake, back at Fizztop Gage is going to have the best sleep of his life

I LIKED THIS ONE A LOT, I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT AND HAVE A GREAT WEEKEND

[lallemcnt]

go ahead and watch my heart burn (part two)

“If that blue could stay for ever…if this moment could stay for ever–“

— Virginia Woolf

-

“Fuck, I’m freezing.”

Teeth chattering, limbs shaking and cold drops of ice water dripping down their necks, Lucas and Eliott hobble towards Eliott’s apartment door. Lucas’ teeth are chattering as he watches Eliott, painstakingly, trying to fit the key in the lock with shaking hands.

As soon as they’re inside, they’re both stripping off their jackets, shoes and socks. Eliott disappears and returns with a towel for Lucas whose clothes have become a second skin. Eliott’s shirt is halfway off his shoulders revealing a smooth chest and a small tattoo indiscernible in the dark.

“Why are you standing in the dark?” Eliott is laughing.

“Uh.” Lucas is laughing too. It’s infectious, Eliott’s laughter. All airy and earnest, like a fresh drop of winter snow on a blank canvas. It creates and funnels light, emboldening Lucas.

All Lucas can think about is Eliott’s chest and...the skin of his legs being rubbed raw by the wet of his rain-soaked jeans. So when Eliott offers him a pair of sweatpants Lucas is desperately relieved, made all the more sweeter by imagining the next few hours sitting down in squeaky denim. The sweatpants are a little long so he rolls the bottoms up a few times, drying his hair with a towel before drifting towards what he assumes to be the living room.

Homes are interesting places. They can be safe havens for some and dreaded sites of loneliness and fear for others. Lucas has had it both ways. Eliott’s is all wooden floors, white curtains and bookshelves filled with vinyl, non-fiction books, graphic novels and candles. The light grey-blue walls are relatively sparse, interrupted by a painting, a black and white photograph of the moon and an A4 piece of paper stuck to the wall with cello tape, depicting a...raccoon. The same one, Lucas deducts, as the one on the napkin. The napkin.

Dashing back to their pile of clothes on the kitchen floor, he digs through his pockets for the drawing, heart dropping in his stomach, colouring him wholly disheartened when he feels it’s threadbare material. He lets out a curse, catching the attention of Eliott.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Lucas responds quickly, shoving the napkin back into his pocket. “It’s nothing. Should we watch this film you’ve been raving about?” He tiptoes towards the other boy, trying to miss the little drops of water decorating the tiles.

He’s embarrassed at how upset he feels about the ruined drawing. In theory, he could ask Eliott for another, from what he can gage from Eliott’s behaviour and attitude towards him, he’s sure he would do it, be happy too even, but Lucas doesn’t want to test that just yet.

They end up on the sofa, wrapped up in a stripy, wool blanket that feels like paradise, a shelter against goose bumps and chilly toes. A barrier between cold skin, and hopeful touches.

He feels shitty about it, he really does, he knows under different circumstances he would be enraptured by this film. Thirty minutes in and the colours alone are breath-taking. He wants to hug Little, the main character, up in the warmest hug. But Lucas is completely enthralled by Eliott, and he can’t be consumed by two things at once. It’s all or nothing for him. He doesn’t know whether it’s exhaustion finally setting into his bones and slowing his thoughts down, but with every shift on the sofa beside him, every out breath, he’s glancing over and gazing for seconds on end, before he realises he should be watching the film. This is what he came here to see after all: not him watching Eliott watching the tv.

-

“Shirley Jackson. Toni Morrison. Hannah Arendt. Shakespeare. Angela Davis. Oscar Wilde.” Lucas reads the names off the spines one by one, some he recognises from school, others from evenings on buses with his mother: she always sat there, an arm slung around his shoulder and a paperback folded in half in the other.

A push of a button. Silence. Light foot-steps, hands shoved into pockets. “A penny for your thoughts?”

Lucas shrugs his shoulders. “You read. A lot.”

“Yeah. And you?”

A shake of his head, he looks at Eliott briefly before returning to inspect the rows of vinyl. “No, but my mother did. Does. She loves Shirley Jackson. I can remember coming home from school and seeing her tucked up in her a chair by the window, dressed in an oversized jumper and joggers, reading away.” He smiles a little at the memory, consumed by his love for his mother for a split second. It’s all a bit much, too private, sharing this with someone he’s only known a few hours. Someone he wants to know.

“Weren’t enjoying the film?”

“Sorry, I’m just-” Lucas sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “I don’t know. I was enjoying it, but, I guess I’m not in the mood.”

Lucas drifts to the opposite wall. The raccoon sketch. He’s beyond curious so he asks. It’s that simple really. “What does the raccoon mean?”

“It’s me.”

Lucas frowns for a second, Eliott is still standing in front of his bookshelves, hands in pockets, a rueful smile on his face. It’s safe to say Lucas is thoroughly confused.

“You? As in the raccoon?”

“Yes.”

“So, the drawing you did for me. On the napkin. The raccoon was you? And the hedgehog was?”

“You.” A sheepish smile, and rounded shoulders, a light colouring of red on his smooth cheeks.

“Huh. I’m a hedgehog,” Lucas walks towards Eliott, slowly, with a shy smile on his face. “How do you figure that?”

“Well,” he gives Lucas a considering look, sweeping his body from head to toe with his eyes, and Lucas feels it all over like lava in veins, music in his eyes and a shiver down his spine.

“Well...?” He’s a foot away now.

Not looking too keen to spill the beans, Eliott intones, “Come here, you have something in your hair.” Lucas is willing to let it go, Eliott doesn’t owe him anything, but he promises himself he’ll find out, one day.

Lucas is practically in Eliott’s space already, so he leans forward slightly, curious and nervous and heart pounding, excited. A soft brush of fingers in his hair, a slight pull and Eliott holds a piece of fluff in front of Lucas.

“There.” His gaze shifts down to Lucas’ face. Eye contact held on bated breath.

-

The midnight-blue sky weakens in colour, letting in dregs of light as the sun prepares to rise once more. Wisps of pink stain the sky, and the dead silence of the night is replaced by a slow trickle of noise that grows rapidly into the sound of wheels against concrete and beeping horns of hurried commuters.

Sitting there, listening to the city waken and begin a new day, with legs thrown over legs, dark circles glistening under blue eyes that yearn to shut, to sleep, to rest. Lucas has become quite familiar and fond of the stripy woollen blanket, wrapping it around his feet and pulling it up to his shoulders, he leans against the side of the sofa listening to Eliott’s voice, hoarse from talking for hours on end, about everything and nothing: the life-cycle of a star, how he broke his ankle when he was eight falling off a skateboard, about an exhibition launching in a couple months that his work is in. Lucas has learned many things about Eliott, that the intensity of his eyes holds no matter the conversation topic, that Lucas feels them most acutely when he’s answering questions about himself: his friends, his mother, his degree and his love for the piano. He learns that Eliott hates anything with mint in, his favourite ice cream flavour is pistachio and that he pours the milk in his bowl before the cereal — Lucas mocks him to no end.

“Stay here,” Eliott whispers, “don’t go yet.” Lucas traces his hand, the tendons and the knuckles and the smooth skin between each bump of bone. He lightly taps against green and blue veins, aligning his own hand flat against Eliott’s, his fingers a cm or so smaller, Eliott curls the tips of his over Lucas’ and then they slip together, intertwine, Lucas rests his cheek against them. “Ok,” he whispers.

The intimacy of being in someone else’s bed, the bed of someone you like, the intimacy of sharing yourself with someone: your aches, pains and hopes. Every few minutes they’re laughing and Lucas feels the breathy air of Eliott’s laugh on his face that has gradually lost its sound throughout the early morning. He’s taken in this room and cannot help but compare it to his own. No cracked ceiling or second hand furniture in sight. Where Lucas’ room is minimalist, the only indication that it belongs to him being the photos of him and his friends taped up above the headboard of his bed, Eliott’s is a manifestation of his passion: a mural covers the walls, his collection of shirts hangs on a rail by the door, photos from magazines, ticket stubs and photographs decorate the area around his mirror in a collage of his greatest hits.

Sprawled on blue sheets, lying on their sides, faces close and resting on palms, whispered breaths and uncontrollable laughs. Quiet smiles, lingering touches, and sighs of contentment. A new world has been created, here in these cerulean sheets. A world forged of a compulsion to know the other, inside and outside.

The desire to kiss Eliott has grown like daisies in summer since he saw him standing in the door of that bathroom at McDonald’s, and now that they are positioned in such a way that if Lucas were to just tilt his head forward slightly, their lips would brush. He’s drunk on the tantalising idea.

That’s how they get there. Eliott, is running long fingers through Lucas’ hair, even more wild and unkempt than it was at one a.m. His hand stops, reaching around to grip the back of Lucas’ head, and Lucas takes the moment because he’s desperate, he’s buzzing with nerves, but, oh, he wants to. He closes that space between them, it’s nothing really, a whispered breath of air, and a press of his lips against Eliott’s for a few seconds, and just as he begins to retreat, Eliott reciprocates, his grip on Lucas’ head holding him in place. There’s a candle burning in Lucas’ gut, it was shimmering early and now it’s positively burning. As their lips move against each other, Lucas open his mouth and Eliott deeps the kiss. It’s slow and sensual, a new dance, bursting into existence.

Brushing his thumb against Lucas’ lower lip, pressing one, two, three quick kisses to his mouth, Eliott pulls back, and smiles, and Lucas’ heart is afire. He whispers, “Whoa.”

Lucas is hit by a tide of overwhelming need, he can’t look at Eliott for a second. He drags his eyes away and turning over, reaches for his phone on the nightstand to distract himself.

(57) new messages from Le Gang

(2) new messages from Manon

“In trouble?” Eliott asks.

“Oh, just my friends wondering why I went home with a weirdo.”

Lucas feels fingers pinching his sides and he’s gasping for breath, gasping into a kiss.

Feet brush and tangle. Sleep comes for them both, the white curtains trying in vein to block out the sunlight, though their job is easy made easy by these two boys high on desire for each other and utterly exhausted. Eyelids shut, breaths even out, tucked in a pocket of their own making, the boys sleep.

And sleep.

And,

Sleep.

-

It’s as though the body refuses to reenergise unless you sleep at night, making it so that when Lucas wakes he wishes he could be asleep once more. He closes his eyes against the afternoon sun but a nagging pain tugs at his consciousness, he rolls onto his side, relieving his dead arm, the tinkling of blood filling his limb. Huffing out a breath, rubbing his eyes, and yawning, Lucas flops onto his back and stairs at a smooth white ceiling, no cracks or brown stain. He’s not home. He reaches under the duvet wrapped around his body, and he’s also dressed.

There’s a faint sound filtering through the closed door, and like a bee to honey, he trails its path to a sleepy boy, coffee in hand, listening to the radio. A window is latched open, letting in humid air, a rigorous contrast to the icy rain of the night before. Looking at Eliott, remembering last night, his heart falls to his stomach. Should be stay? Or should he leave? How do you navigate this kind of situation? They talked for hours, kissed, but only met fifteen hours ago...does he sit down at the table, smile and hold Eliott’s hand? Or does he sneak out, as quiet as a mouse, and never speak to him again? It would be so easy, they don’t have each other’s numbers, after all.

Lucas takes a step forward, hesitates and turns away, betrayed by a creaky wooden floor board he steps on. Because of course he does.

“Sorry, I was-“

“Hey!” Eliott’s chair scraps against the floor as he stands up, winding around the table to meet Lucas, giving him a quick peck and a winning smile. Lucas is stunned, he thought...he imagined that maybe it was all in his head. That he was clouded by desire, by his own feelings. “I have cereal and yeah, that’s about it. Sorry.”

“I should go.”

“You can stay for breakfast.”

He’s feeling awkward, like he doesn’t belong. He just wants out of the situation as quickly as possible. “No, I should really get back. Check in with my mum...”

“Alright.”

Not knowing what else to say, a sharp contrast to their late night/early morning ramblings, Lucas disappears into Eliott’s bedroom — meticulously clean and tidy — to get dressed. Pulling on his jacket, he checks to make sure he has everything and heads towards the door.

“Can I have your number?” Eliott just in boxers leans against the kitchen door frame, arms folded across his chest like barriers to potential rejection. Lucas’ rejection. He doesn’t like that power. He would be lying if he said he didn’t want to see him see again. But he’s unsure if he’ll ever use the number because, firstly, look at Eliott. He’s been carved by Aphrodite herself; beautiful, sleepy, green-grey eyes like water mottled green by the harbour, deep brown hair that defies gravity, and a keen interest in people: their likes and dislikes, their passions. Lucas cannot compare in any sense of the word. He’s just...lesser. But he’s weak and he caves because he can still feel Eliott’s lips on his.

Eliott slips Lucas’ phone back into his jacket pocket, squeezes his hand and steps back. “Until next time.”

“See you.” The words taste like bile in his throat. He wonders if Eliott can sense the deceit.

And Lucas is out the door, stumbling down the stairs and onto the early evening streets of rush hour. He’s pulled along by streams of work-weary people desperate to get home, to have dinner, to see their children and lovers. In this sea of anonymity, Lucas lets his mind float, float towards that circus of dreams he was lucky enough to experience, letting himself be consumed by that feeling of being cared for in a way entirely different from familial love, love from a stranger, someone who doesn’t know the flaws of his person, the openness of being touched with care, his thorns soothed down for the night, no shields in place, because while he pretends to be sharp, he’s a fool for kindness, for love.

Not that he believes it’s love with him and Eliott, yet. It’s definitely too soon, he thinks. Though it would be the biggest lie he ever did tell if he didn’t acknowledge that there was something there. He can’t describe it, he can’t explain it, because the words haven’t been invented in his language yet. It is more than lust, a string below love, and this is what is on his mind when he finally reaches home.

The Lallemant’s may not be wealthy, not have the income to be able to kill the environment with their private jets, but they get by and they are strong, because you have to be in a world that does not care about you. Since his father left, there have been times when it has been a struggle to put food on the table, but his world has been a world peace since that man left. Since he was forced to leave. The strain in his mother’s shoulder is no longer there, and her step is lighter, her smile is a constant ray of light, and seeing this eases some of the anxiety in his stomach.

Slipping off his shoes, Lucas practically bolts to the bathroom, hopping into the warm spray of the shower. As he washes his body, he can’t help but think he’s washing away Eliott’s touch and he stops for a second to process this.

When the water turns off he hears the unmistakeable sound of pots and Celine Dion coming from the kitchen and the smile that overtakes his face cannot be stopped. He rushes to dress, combing hands through his hair as he strolls towards the kitchen, resting his elbows on the work surface as he grins at his mother. Her blonde hair wrapped up in a scarf with her fringe peering out of the fabric and a spatula in one hand, Ms Lallemant exclaims: “Honey! How is my little boy doing?”

Lucas rolls his eyes as she leans forward to kiss his cheeks, though he’s secretly loving it, and his mother knows this. “I’m good, maman. And you? How was work?”

She sighs, “The usual. You okay to have spaghetti, tonight?”

“Spaghetti is good.”

“How is our little Manon doing? Did you have a good time at hers?”

Manon. Thinking back on the texts he received but hasn’t replied to. She must have covered for him and thank the heavens for this intelligent girl, Lucas thinks, always saving him, since before he can remember. Manon has always had her head screwed on straight, logical to Lucas’ chaos. They balance each other out.

“She’s doing good, her brother has a new boyfriend, and her dad just retired,” Lucas replies, feeling shitty for lying about his whereabouts, but also not wanting to share Eliott with his mum because that would make it a thing, which it isn’t. “We didn’t do much though, maxed out from the party.” He concludes.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah.”

They eat their spaghetti at their two-seater table, sharing anecdotes from their restrictive days, made-up in areas on Lucas’ part, teasing and mocking each other, because that’s how they work. Their dynamic established even while living with their father became more pronounced and carefree when he was gone. Freeing them up to be as loud and ridiculous as they can.

In the confines of his room, Lucas opens up his group chat with le gang and rolls his eyes, it is now sixty-three messages of asking for details, cheering him on for “finally getting some action” and asking where he is. Lucas clicks off that chat and onto Manon’s.

Today 14:25

Manon: Told your mum you’re at mine

Manon: Assumed you would forget

Today 18:45

lucas: you are an absolute Blessing  

lucas: thank you ❤️  

Manon: ❤️

He slumps onto his bed, starfish-ed across the sheets and stares at the ceiling. The brown stain. The cracked paint. His phone beeps. He sighs. He picks it up.

(1) new message from eliott

Today 20:41

eliott: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U0jmgLaNL-Y/

“Lips meet teeth and tongue, my heart skips eight beats at once If we were meant to be, we would have been by now See what you wanna see, but all I see is him right now”

But all I see is him

Right

Now.

The song is bittersweet, but the melody hypnotises Lucas until it worms its way into his head and he’s humming along.

Today 20:41

eliott: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U0jmgLaNL-Y/

lucas: cute

lucas: you're cute

The feeling that comes with those words. Is there really anything better than that? Being thought of in connection with something random. Being thought of period.

eliott: Can I call you?

lucas: if it so pleases you  

Incoming call: eliott

There’s rustling on Eliott’s end and then his voice, a bit hoarse, saying: “Hey, Lucas.”

The sound of his name in Eliott’s voice sends a buzz through him. “Hey, you. Missing me already?”

“Like you don’t wanna know,” a chuckle, a breath. “Is that weird?”

Lucas shakes his head, feeling weirdly emotional, like he could cry. “No…” He coughs to clear his throat.

Putting his phone on loud-speaker, Lucas places it beside his head and closes his eyes, counting the staggered beats between his out breath and Eliott’s until they’re almost sinked up. A faint trickle of music filters through the phone, a bass and an acoustic guitar echoes in the periphery.

“Would it be weird if I asked to see you again?”

“We did eat each other’s faces off this morning.”

“You really have a way with words,” a few seconds silence. “but you didn’t answer my question.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I’ll see you. Under one condition. Wear one of your lesbian shirts.”

A snort, followed by hysterical laughing. Lucas can picture Eliott’s face at this: crinkle-eyed, full-toothed smile, a hand reaching up to cover his face, to shut off his happiness from the world.

“What?” Lucas is laughing too.

They stay on the phone for a while, Eliott playing songs to Lucas, and Lucas voicing whether he likes them or not. He’s almost shocked out how open Eliott is with sharing his music, Lucas thinks it would take a few months to crack that from him.

“I asked Imane about you.”

“Oh no.”

“You’re on the same course, right? Biology, right? So you’re really fucking smart.”

“Um. It depends who you ask, some would tell you I’m an impulsive idiot who may be book smart, but I’m lacking in other areas. Anyway, Imane is ten times smarter than me. Let’s just say I get by…with her help. How did you meet Idriss?”

“Same high school. We joined the same film club and that’s where we met Sof. Kinda been attached to each other ever since.”

“How have I never met you till…this morning, then?”

“The universe works in mysterious ways. And, you know, Imane said you were smarter than her.”

Huh. “Really?”

“Really. So, when can I see you again?”

“Tuesday?”

“Could I kiss you again?”

[ssunveinsarchive]

gage had been sitting in front of nicola’s apartment complex for what felt like hours now, anxiously playing out every possible scenario in his head as to how this would go. he was only there to pick up his stuff, something that he had begged every single one of his friends to do for him, but they all led busy lives, or so they said. gage couldn’t help but feel like they had grown tired of his constant state of brokenness –– insecurity nearly eating him alive. seeing her for the first time since they broke up would hurt enough, but having to pick up his stuff, too? that thought alone made his knees too weak to get out of his car, hence why he had been stuck there for so long. he couldn’t accept the fact that they were over, that his own stupid actions had ruined what they had –– what they could’ve had. his feelings didn’t seem to matter much anymore, though, if she was already willing to give him his things back. they weren’t together for long, but there were still plenty of memories that he considered too precious to delegate to a cardboard box that he would push to the back of his closet. it was clear they were both hurting, both heartbroken over what they lost. he sighs softly, still fighting with himself in his head about whether or not to get out just yet. he glances up to look in the rear view mirror, catching sight of the blankets folded up in his back seat. not too long ago, they had those seats down, with blankets spread out in the trunk as they talked and watched the stars; a first date he would seemingly never forget. that stung, almost, as his gaze moved from the blankets back to the sight of her apartment complex looming in front of him, knowing exactly what was on the other side. 

finally, his hand reached for the handle, pushing the door open without much thought. he couldn’t keep sitting there and weighing every outcome, or else he would drive himself even more insane. heading up the stairs to her door, he pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath before knocking quietly. he didn’t know if he was prepared to see her, or talk to her, but it seemed too late to worry about that, now. waiting somewhat patiently for her to answer the door, his nose wrinkled as he inhales the familiar whiff of something burning –– hearing the light sound of voices on the other side of the wall. he could recognize her cadence, soft and sweet; something he missed, yet he didn’t recognize the other voice. it sounded deeper, insincere; or maybe that was his mind playing tricks on him once he realized it was the voice of someone else –– someone that wasn’t him. he only faltered for half a second after he realized the door was unlocked, pushing it open slowly, wanting to alert her before he just bounded in. “hey, nicola, it’s me. is everything––” he couldn’t finish that sentence, however, the moment he finally opened the door all the way, watching in horror as his eyes settled upon her, locked in an embrace with someone else. maybe they both weren’t hurting –– maybe she had moved on. the hurt was clearly written all over his features, mouth dropping open in no attempt to conceal his surprise. “what–– what the hell?” he sounds exasperated, like all the breath had been knocked out of his chest. the burning smell was intensified once inside, glancing over at the state of the kitchen. were they cooking together? that felt like another kick straight to his gut, his knees even weaker. “really? already?” his insecurity was rearing its ugly head, fists clenching at his sides as tears threaten to form behind his eyes. he was never violent, not with other people, but right now his entire body felt so tense, he was sure the only way to relieve it would be to scream at the top of my lungs. “i’m just here for my stuff. once i get it, i’ll leave and you’ll never have to see me again. and you guys can–– finish what you were doing,” he says bitterly, turning slightly towards the hallway to conceal the tear running down his cheek. // @synosures​. 

[quinzelade]

Making One’s Bones (chpt 6)

Chapter List

--

Porter Gage is in a pickle. Nuka-World needed a new boss and some woman just killed her way to the top. But a pre-war Mafia boss on the theme park's throne? Well...at least she'll have experience.

--

History Lessons

--

The night in the Primate House was a long and uncomfortable one. Gage shifted in his spot on the floor, slowly became aware of a damp spreading through the seat of his pants, and made a noise of disgust. He'd been trying to put off his next wash for a few more months, and didn't want ape shit speeding up the process, but what could he do—sleep standing up? The whole place was covered in muck. Still, it was worth a shot, and so Gage got to his feet, testing the ground for a less soggy place to sit. Bossanova watched him silently from her own corner. Perhaps she'd noticed his pants sticking to the back of his legs.

The ghoulrillas were snoring all around him, Cito snoring loudest of all. He exclaimed loudly when he'd realised his little nest had been disturbed, but thankfully decided it must have been 'one of the monsters' sneaking in and disrupting his things without trying to eat any of his family in the process. Gage was happy to let him think that. He didn't want to be on the receiving end of Cito's piece of pipe.

As the combined rumblings of the sleeping idiots filled the air, Gage considered their new enemies. The gatorclaws were no laughing matter. He'd fought one or two deathclaws in his time, each battle a close call. But a park full of them? Not to mention the gatorclaws seemed even more vicious than their horned cousins.

Gage shifted around a little, noting with some relief his pants had dried off a bit. Not only that, but this spot near Bossanova seemed a little less damp than where he'd been before. Gage dropped down with a soft flump and watched a ghoulrilla scratch its ass in its sleep. The boss had been playing on his mind all night. Not the way she'd held a knife to his throat—he'd deserved that, he knew it—no, what bothered him more was their first gatorclaw fight, when she'd saved his life by pushing him out of the way.

Raiders, he understood. Kill or be killed. Loyalty only carried you as far as where the next meal came from, and if shit got bad, you took care of yourself first. Gage knew this. The only certainty about a raider was the fact they would turn on you.

Gage stared down the enclosure, watching Bossanova. He could see the glint of her eyes in the darkness, could just make out her hand resting on her sword, which she'd finally stopped trying to straighten out.

The stupid woman hadn't even hesitated.

"Boss…?"

"Yeah?"

Several seconds passed before he realised he'd spoken. Bossanova was sitting up straighter now, her head turned to him. He looked away from her, his heart quickening. When the gatorclaw grabbed her, he could have turned tail. Left Nuka World forever. He wanted the park working more than anything, but the situation was fucked long before Bossanova arrived. It wasn't worth his life. If Cito hadn't caved the thing's head in, he'd have died there and then. It shouldn't have got to that point. Gage knew when to cut and run.

So why hadn't he?

"Gage?" Bossanova tilted her head to the side. "Is everything okay?"

"Why the fuck do you care?" Gage snapped. He regretted it instantly. He sounded like a kid. He quickly changed tack. "Just...about Colter," he lied, finally looking up again. "You mentioned him back in the Welcome Center. It's...I can tell it's gonna be a sore spot."

"Maybe. Depends if there'll be a repeat performance." She gave him a wry smile just visible in the dim light. "Feeling guilty?"

"No, ain't no guilt over that call. Colter was a piece of shit. I've been real clear with you."

She glanced up at the ceiling, now concealed by darkness, and then dug into her pocket, producing a small candle and a packet of matches. She lit one of the matches, the surrounding ghoulrillas stirring in their sleep, and cleared a circle in the grime and straw, setting down the candle. She put the match to the wick, and the room filled with warm, flickering light.

Bossanova blew out the match. Then she drew her knees to her chest, rested her chin on them, and said. "How do you know I'm better?"

"I don't," Gage said, frowning at her. "But I ain't got a choice. After Colter, I'm livin' on borrowed time."

"Smart man like you, you should have seen him for what he was."

"Hey, I don't know what it was like in your time," Gage snapped, sitting up straight and glaring at her, "but out here, Colter had the qualities that mattered." She'd hit a nerve, and goddamn if he didn't know it. "He was big, strong, and didn't take no shit. So I talked him into being overboss, thinkin' he'd listen to me, let me help him. I thought...I thought I'd be able to keep him in line. But..."

Bossanova's expression shifted into something painful. Her voice sounded strained as she said, "It went to his head?"

Gage tried to reply, but the words caught in his throat. He settled for a single nod. She knew. She knew.

Bossanova gazed past him, her expression distant. "People like Colter... you trust to do as you ask, as they're expected." Her tone grew harder with every syllable. "But greed, power, drugs—it twists them, strips them of the person you knew, until all you're left with is a shell. A shell you have to put down yourself…" She breathed heavily through her nose cavity. "Because you created them."

Ringing silence followed. Gage was at a loss for words. Eventually, he managed a weak, "Shit, boss."

Bossanova shook her head, still not looking at him. "I know how gangs work. I know how they end. And I know why you're making me the target instead." Their eyes met. "I'm fine with that."

Gage wanted to know more, but something in her stricken expression told him it was a bad idea. She hadn't meant to say it. He swallowed, dragging the subject back into familiar grounds. "You ain't like Colter. That's what I'm getting at. You ain't like the other raiders I've run with. This place is about to go off like a goddamn grenade, but so long as you don't pull another stupid stunt like you did with Mags, we could make this work." Gage hesitated, aware he was getting a bit too sentimental. But the fact they were even in Safari Adventure at all spoke volumes. He swallowed his pride and charged on. "You've got the smarts and the drive to make a pretty damn good overboss."

Bossanova snorted with laughter. "I've barely done anything yet."

"More than Colter."

"God, he's made your expectations low."

It was Gage's turn to laugh. "I'm just saying, I'm...I'm starting to be glad we teamed up, is all."

The odd thing was, despite their earlier fight, he wasn't lying. Gage sat in stunned silence, his brain blank. Where the hell had that come from?

Bossanova didn't seem to notice his sudden apprehension, because she smiled broadly and settled back in her corner. After a moment, Gage did the same. As soon as her eyes shut, he scowled. Yeah, he was impressed with the way she'd taken charge, and she clearly knew what she was doing. But he couldn't quite wrap his head around what was bothering him.

It kept coming back to the fight. How Bossanova pushed him aside, took the blow instead. And how he, Gage, then followed her example.

She's no raider.

The realisation hit him like a gut punch. Bossanova didn't do things the raider way. She didn't just slit his throat when he overstepped his bounds, or abandon him in a sticky situation to save her own neck. She kept him for his usefulness, yes, but seemed to enjoy his company as well. Why else would she be making fucking breakfast in the morning for him?

But whatever she was doing, it was working. He'd never thrown himself at a deathclaw—Gatorclaw, Bossanova's voice corrected inside his head—for anyone before. Gage's scowl deepened as he remembered the talk she'd given him about trust the previous night, a strange anger bubbling away in the pit of his stomach.

She's no raider, Gage thought bitterly. But then he paused, his agitation calming down to a simmer. Was that really a bad thing?

For the first time in years, his thoughts drifted back to Connor.

Connor, who relied on him for advice. Connor, who said he trusted him—that he, Gage, was an important part of the gang. Connor, who took what he needed and then tried to kill him.

A raider through and through, and Gage had learned the lesson well. Never trust, never linger if shit hit the fan. And if Bossanova didn't play by the raider rules, both she and Gage were in for a world of trouble.

Maybe she was more raider than he realised; trying to lull him into a false sense of security, make him weak and complacent. Just like a slaver, before they snapped the collar on. Well, she was in for a nasty surprise if that was the case.

But...why risk her life just to trick me?

Gage massaged his forehead with his knuckles and decided to shelve the worries for now. There was nothing he could do about it here, surrounded by gatorclaws and ghoulrillas and the idiot Cito. Get the job done, go back to Nuka World, reassess. He'd used up all his chances with the other gang leaders—there was no way he could bring in another overboss now. But maybe he could still leave, before Bossanova ran him or the entire operation into the ground.

Sighing, he shut his eyes, hoping the morning brought a better day.

--

It did not.

Gage spat out a mouthful of blood as he staggered to his feet. A tremendous roar echoed from the dizzying heights of the Angry Anaconda track above, and he glanced up in time to see the snapping jaws of the gatorclaw miss Bossanova's heels by inches.

She lost her footing, and for one heartstopping moment Gage thought she would fall. But Bossanova clung on, scrabbling up again and ducking to avoid the beast's claws. He wondered whether he could shoot it without hitting her, but as Gage stepped forward, his head spun and he struggled to stay standing. The sixth gatorclaw fight was taking its toll.

Bossanova climbed higher and higher, every slip of her hands and feet sending a jolt of panic through him. She reached the peak, a wide chasm of collapsed track, and edged back, her arms flailing. The overgrown lizard pulled itself up, causing the whole structure and Bossanova to wobble dangerously.

The gatorclaw stared at her as it struggled to stay on the narrow rails, its huge, clawed feet sliding around, rattling everything further. Gage could hear its low, guttural growls all the way from the ground, and held his breath as he watched the teetering standoff.

The gatorclaw lunged.

Bossanova dropped through a gap in the track, catching hold of a bar at the last second. The gatorclaw barrelled on, throwing itself into open air and plummeting, while Bossanova held on with one hand. It seemed to take an age to fall, its muscular limbs flailing as a long, shrieking howl escaped its terrible jaws, before hitting the ground with a sickening thud. Bossanova dangled precariously over the drop by one hand, swiping up to the rails fruitlessly with the other.

Gage swore, setting off at an unsteady run. Would he be able to reach her in time?

Two figures streaked past him before he'd taken more than two steps; Cito and Chris the ghoulrilla leapt onto the metal structure, climbing with fluid ease. By the time Gage put his foot on the first rung, the ghoulrilla scooped Bossanova under one arm and swung casually back down. As Cito followed, Bossanova was dumped unceremoniously at Gage's feet.

"You alright, boss?" he said, ignoring both his racing heart and her two idiotic saviours.

"Fine," wheezed Bossanova, massaging her chest and standing up. She looked paler than usual, a slight tremble to her hands. But then she shot him a mischievous grin. "Still looking out for me?"

Gage scowled and turned away, his cheeks hot. Fuck her then. He stomped off, making sure she knew his displeasure, before stopping at the gatorclaw. It was impaled on some old pieces of track sticking out of the ground, its yellow eyes blank and unseeing.

He kicked the dead beast fiercely with his foot. How many more of these things would they have to fight?

Gage forced his attention to the Angry Anaconda. Somewhere in this mess of metal and dead greenery was the password for the Welcome Center—their only chance of dragging this hellhole under raider control.

He paused, wondering what would have happened if Cito and his 'family' hadn't been with them. Gage shivered, thinking of Nisha's well-used knives. He stole a glance at Bossanova when he was certain she wasn't looking, and then at Cito and the ghoulrilla. He would have killed them to make sure the park was clear for the gang. Bossanova talked them round instead.

Maybe Old World tricks had their place after all.

"Boss," Gage said, suddenly reminded of their first meet with the Blacks. "What was that shit you were talking about with Mags?" Bossanova paused, looking up from the decaying roller coaster cart she'd been sifting through. Gage took this as a sign to continue. "You said 'Cozy Nose...Tra.' And then 'mafia.' The first bit I don't get, but the second—"

He broke off as she erupted into a fit of giggles.

"What?" he snarled, nettled.

Bossanova shook her head, still laughing. "Cosa Nostra was an Old World Italian phrase adopted by the American Mafia. It roughly translates to, 'our thing.'"

She might as well have been speaking another language for all the sense this made to Gage. Or maybe she was? He stared at her, and she smiled.

"You want a history lesson?"

"Well…" Gage frowned at a dirty old skeleton on the floor. He was interested, despite himself. "Fuck it. Sure. It'll pass the time."

Bossanova nudged an upturned trash can with her foot as she unsheathed her sword, fussing over the bend in the blade again. Cito and the ghoulrilla licked each others wounds, apparently disinterested in the conversation. After a moment, Gage kicked aside an old skull and picking his way through the skeleton, deciding he might as well keep looking for the stupid passcode while she talked.

"What do you know about the Mafia?" she asked, not looking up from her sword.

"As far as I know, they were some pre-war gang who rolled in caps and did whatever the fuck they wanted." Gage stared off into the distance, lost in visions of wealth, luxury, and power. The raiders talked about them like the religious talked about Atom. He was brought back to earth by a loud sniffing in his ear. Cito was picking bugs out of Gage's hair and eating them. "Fuck off, Loincloth!"

Bossanova looked up as Gage waved Cito away with a hiss, and laughed again.

"You're right," Bossanova said, returning to her weapon, "for the most part. They had wealth and power, but they still had to navigate around the law, like I said. And they were mired with toxic tradition—only allowing Italian men into their ranks for most of their existence. By the time I joined, they realised they needed change to survive. In the end, if you could prove you had Italian heritage, it was irrelevant what was between your legs."

Gage frowned. Why would that matter to begin with? So long as you were good at killing, raiders didn't give a shit.

Bossanova gave a knowing smile at Gage's confusion, which must have shown on his face, and went on. "But non-Italians were still taboo. My attempts to bring the Irish Mob under mafia control were disastrous, and as a result I...retired. Organised crime floundered in the years after my departure. Only had a resurgence when the bombs fell."

Gage frowned. "You make it sound like you were old."

"I was old. Had my pension when the world ended, much to the annoyance of the cops. Being a ghoul does wonders for creaky joints."

Gage wasn't sure what 'cops' or a 'pension' were, nevermind whether he believed her claims or not. He decided it didn't matter.

"The Mafia was weak after I left. Turns out letting the Irish Mob butcher your leaders doesn't do much for keeping your hold on the city," she said bitterly. "Eddie Winters carved his way to the top of the Mob and put a puppet in my place. I changed my name and moved to the suburbs. Made friends. Kept my sword collection sharpened, just in case. By the time Raymond Patriarca got things back under control, the bombs dropped."

Bossanova shivered, her black eyes staring off into the distance, and for a moment it looked like her mind had been transported far away, swallowed by the horrors of her past. "I'll...I'll never forget it. The sky choked with dust and debris and radiation. I was miles from the epicentre, but I still felt my skin bubble and peel away. My neighbours melted in front of me. And the pain…"

She went quiet, gripping tightly at her sword. "Buildings were crumbling at random, people trapped beneath the rubble. Craters in the sidewalks. Bodies everywhere. The city reeked of the dead, and the living…" Bossanova motioned to her own face. "Most looked like me before they passed. Rotting from the inside out. I took refuge in a burnt out building. Too hurt to do much else, really."

Gage paused, his hand half in the pocket of the ragged remains of the clothes still clinging to the skeleton, listening intently. He'd never been one for the past. It was old and dead, and no use to anyone except scavenging. But this was...different.

"Old Ray became a ghoul, along with a good chunk of the family and the Irish Mob. Winters was nowhere to be seen, so the family took back its city." Bossanova smiled, holding the sword loose by her side. "They brought order to the apocalypse."

"Wait, what?"

Bossanova nodded. "Ray kept the chems out, and set to work on food, water, and the injured. People flocked for miles when they heard, all bending the knee to the wasteland's first godfather. Even the remnants of the police fell into line when it became obvious the military wasn't coming back."

"And where were you?"

"Kept out the way so I wouldn't waste their precious resources. Every day, lying in a burnt out building, waiting for the pain to just kill me, or the ceiling to collapse on me in my sleep. Every day I waited, and every day it never came." Bossanova bowed her head. When she looked up again, her gaze was sharp. "I got over myself quickly. Stopped being so pathetic—"

Glad we agree, Gage thought.

"—and went to see what I could do. If there was a price on my head, I'd make them remember who I was, and what happened to those who crossed me. I was reborn. But..."

Gage snorted. Always with the 'but.' "Lemmie guess—the guys with the guns weren't scared of a sword?"

Bossanova tilted her head and gave a strange smile. "You'd be surprised how many people hesitate when you run at them screaming and swinging a sharp bit of metal around. But no. By the time I'd pulled myself together, everything had fallen apart."

"Even by raider standards, that's impressive."

"Well, not everyone in the city was a ghoul. And those lucky enough not to be a walking corpse began to…grow suspicious of us. Didn't help that the first cases of ferals were cropping up. Ray was assassinated. Any ghouls not quick on the uptake followed him. The lucky ones went into hiding near the foundations of Goodneighbor. Today they are the Triggermen."

"No shit?" Gage mulled this information over in his head. He'd never really thought about where the Triggermen had come from before. He knew they were separate to the other ghouls in Goodneighbor, but…

He was snapped out of his thoughts as Bossanova went on with her tale.

"Frank Salemme was the one who whacked Ray," she said darkly, her expression sour. "He was nasty, even by Mafia standards. A pain to deal with in my day—making everything bloody, messy—bringing down the heat through his carelessness. He took over after he murdered Ray, and that's when things really went south.

"Frank decided the old ways weren't good enough anymore. If you wanted to be a made man, you played by his rules."

"What's a made—?"

"Mafioso. One of the family." Bossanova glanced over at Cito and the ghoulrilla, the former of which was stuck from the waist upwards inside a park trashcan. "Used to be you just took someone—almost anyone—out. Simple. Effective. Stopped the cops sneaking in, like Donnie Brasco near did. But this wasn't good enough for Salemme, oh no. Making one's bones was pointless in the new world. Anyone who wanted in had to kill a ghoul, and they had to bring proof. And if you weren't in Selemme's gang, you didn't get food or water or nothing."

"Smart," replied Gage without thinking. He shot Bossanova a sharp look, wondering how she would react, but she nodded thoughtfully instead.

"Yeah, it was smart. Made me prey for a while, though. Or so they thought. I hunted them down instead—slit some throats, skewered the rest, depending on who they were." Bossanova grinned. "Kept me on my toes and got me back into shape. In the end, Salemme was running on borrowed time anyway."

"Killed by a ghoul?"

"Killed by one of his own." Bossanova's grin widened. "Radiation gets everyone eventually. He rotted, and when his skin peeled away and his eyes blackened and his fingernails fell out—when he stood there, rasping like the rest of the ghouls—someone put a bullet in his head."

Gage snorted. "I'm sure that went down well."

"Naturally," Bossanova said with a mirthless laugh. "They'd had the power to keep things in order and they messed it up. Soon as they killed Ray, the city was doomed." She stretched her arms, and then turned her sword over in her hands. "Once Salemme got what was coming to him, the in-fighting began.

"New leaders declared every other day, food becoming scarce, and the water so irradiated people were dropping dead or turning to ghouls left, right, and centre. Finally, it all collapsed. The survivors splintered off into factions and began attacking anyone who crossed their paths." Bossanova paused, her gaze boring into Gage. "They were the first raiders."

Gage stared back, lost for words. Eventually he managed, "Raiders?" Bossanova nodded, and he hesitated before saying, "Raiders came from the Mafia?"

She nodded again.

"Well shit."

Bossanova burst out laughing. "Profound as ever, I see."

Gage grinned and shrugged. "What you want me to say? Ain't never expected raiders to have grand beginnings. I thought people were just good at being shitty to each other."

Bossanova shook her head. "That's all the Mafia has ever been." There was a moment's silence, then she strolled away.

Gage remained where he was, thinking. He watched Bossanova approach a rusting trailer and begin rattling the locked door. Gage had never thought about the origins of raiders before, and in all honesty, he'd never really cared. History wouldn't keep him alive. But when Bossanova spoke, he'd found himself enthralled. There was something about her that compelled him to listen.

Picking through the clothes again, he contemplated the power of her charisma when she'd had a nose.

A bang made Gage look up. Bossanova had apparently kicked the trailer, judging by the large dent in the door, and a bag had fallen off the roof. The contents were scattered all over the ground. She crouched down, picking through the debris, and then held up a small, silver something.

Gage got to his feet and drew closer. It was a key. Bossanova turned back to the trailer and tried the lock—the door swung open with a horrible, drawn out metallic scrape that set Gage's teeth on edge. Apparently unperturbed, Bossanova went inside leaving Gage to follow her. Amongst the debris was a skeleton in a lab coat and an orange toolbox on the side. Bossanova began patting down the skeleton, rooting through all the pockets—meanwhile, Gage was drawn to the toolbox. He flipped open the latch and threw back the lid while Bossanova continued her search, and spotted a holotape sat neatly on top of the tools inside the box. He picked it up, looked at the label, and smiled. "Boss?"

"Yeah?"

Gage held up the tape and tapped the peeling label so she could see the spidery, looping handwriting. "It's the Welcome Center passcode."

Bossanova stared from Gage to the tape and back again, her mouth slightly open. She blinked several times, as if hardly daring to believe what she could see. Then she said in an awed whisper, "You can read?"

"Yes, I can fucking read!"

"But...you can read cursive?"

"Oh fuck off."

--

They returned to the Welcome Center with no more interruptions. Gage watched as Bossanova tapped her way through the console outside the sealed door. She propped the scrap of paper she'd scrawled the passcode on against the screen and copied out the digits carefully, glancing around as she did. The terminal beeped and the door slid open.

The darkness beyond waited like an open maw. Gage shivered, staring into the heavy, compressing blackness. Bossanova hesitated, her sword at the ready, and held out a hand to keep Gage and the two idiots in their place. She stepped forward, each slow step barely making a sound, her weapon raised.

The source of the monsters were in here. For all they knew, they were walking into a teeming nest. If that was the case, Gage doubted they'd be able to clear them out alone.

Bossanova continued through the door, glancing from side to side. The darkness swallowed her whole.

Gage shifted on the spot, gripping his gun tight. A terrible, heavy silence was smothering him, raking at his nerves. She'd given clear instructions—stay here, keep watch while she scouted ahead. He'd argued Cito could do the honours, but Bossanova had cut him off with a, "Do you trust him to be our scout?"

No. No, he did not.

But the few seconds of silence were torturous. He wondered if the gatorclaws had caught her with no time to scream, or even—

"Gage," Bossanova's voice whispered, and he sighed with relief.

"Yeah?"

"There's a gatorclaw ahead. You ready?"

Gage aimed his rifle down the tunnel. "Nope."

--

The only positive of the battle was its shortness.

Gage contemplated how quickly it would take for a gatorclaw to shit him out, before the thing's tail hit him in the chest and sent him flying through a set of double doors.

He stared up at the ceiling, dazed, when he felt the crushing grip of the gatorclaw at his ankle, and yelled in pain as the back of his head scraped along the ground. Then Gage was dangling in the air, the beady yellow eyes piercing him as the thing opened its mouth.

Gage grabbed a grenade from his belt, primed it, and tossed it down the gatorclaw's throat.

The eyes widened, and it made a choking noise before dropping him. Gage anticipated the fall just in time, crashing painfully onto his shoulder instead of his head, and quickly scrambled away. The blast flung him off his feet again, and he felt something hot and wet splatter all down his back.

"For fuck's sake," he muttered, peeling himself off the ground and gingerly sitting up.

Bossanova ran over sporting a bloody lip and a tense expression. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Gage muttered, batting away her helpful hands. "I'm fine. Jus' gimme a minute, damn." She crouched down next to him, worry etched into every line of her features, and he felt his anger simmer. "I appreciate the concern, boss, but I'm okay."

He stared at his stinging hands, which were raw and grazed, and then waved her away irritably, and she stood up, wandering over to the terminals in the back of the room. Cito and the ghoulrilla—both unscathed—were sitting near the entrance of this dingy, underground atrium, eating the glowing plants in the dilapidated flower bed. Gage was surprised they weren't poisonous.

Bossanova disappeared through the set of double doors he'd been thrown through, and came out a few minutes later clutching Gage's gun and a couple of holotapes. She thrust the gun into his hands and walked over to the terminal, inserting one of the tapes into the machine.

Seconds later a voice filtered out of the sputtering speakers. Gage barely paid attention, checking his gun wasn't damaged instead. It was the same guy who had created the gatorclaws—McDermot or whatever his name was—and he liked to talk. But then something caught Gage's attention.

"...continuing to modify the Nuka-Gen Replicator to provide a source of food."

"Gage," Bossanova said from across the room, her face lighting up with delight, "do you know what this means?"

"Mm?"

"Weren't you listening?"

"Nope," Gage lied. He took a strange delight in annoying her.

"This could mean food for Nuka World forever," Bossanova snapped, glaring at him. "The amount of trade we could generate with this alone—"

"—as long as the Nuka-Gen Replicator continues to function, I'll have an endless supply of food for—"

"An endless supply of food so long as the power supplies hold out," Gage interrupted lazily, earning himself an irritated scowl.

"So you were listening!"

"Don't matter whether I was or I wasn't, if we can't control what this thing makes, and if it ain't got no power."

"—Dr. Hein would be proud of my accomplishment. It's sad—"

Bossanova opened her mouth to argue, when she froze. Her entire body stiffened, her hand gripping her sword once again.

—it's been so long, I've almost forgotten what he looked like. My God—it's been decades now, maybe even a century or more, hasn't it? Has it been so long? I...I'll...I'll continue recording later."

Bossanova slowly looked down to stare at the terminal, as if lost in another world. Gage gave her a good ten seconds out of bewilderment at her sudden silence, and then said, "Boss?"

She turned to him, blinking as if surprised to see him there, and then slowly shook her head. "I've never thought about it before," she said weakly, gazing at a distant point over Gage's shoulder, "but I don't remember what...I don't...I never had photos after the bombs…"

"Nicky?" Gage asked, startling himself that he'd remembered. Bossanova looked equally taken aback, but she nodded.

"Yes. Nicky." Her face became blank, and she shook her head. "Hurry up with your weapon checks. This place won't clear itself out." She strode off, her gnarled hands clutching tight around the hilt of her sword.

Gage sighed. He was almost getting used to her mood swings now. But he decided to sit and glower a bit longer to emphasise his displeasure.

After a few minutes of being sufficiently grumpy, he got to his feet, wincing. Everything ached and stung, and they still had plenty to do. Not for the first time, he suspected they wouldn't be finishing this job in one go. But at least if they figured out where the gatorclaws were coming from the rest could fall into place later.

He poked around the atrium a little, using a console to unlock an old cold storage room. All the fridges inside were empty, but he noticed an open vent near the top of the room, its grate hanging on by one rusted bolt.

All in all, not much loot to be had.

Disappointed, he made his way back down the stairs and towards Bossanova, who was reading through something on one of the other terminals. She didn't say what it was, and Gage didn't trouble himself to ask. Instead, he whistled through his teeth at Cito and the ghoulrilla, Chris. They loped over, alert and ready, and Gage begrudgingly admired their tenacity. Bossanova straightened up, glancing towards the doors leading to the next room, and caught his eye. She gave a slight nod, an unspoken agreement passing between them as they hung back and let Cito move ahead. Best to keep the meat shields up front.

Just in case.

[chungha-supremacist]

No borders - Chapter 2

word count: 5003

SUMMARY:

“It’s just us 5 right?”

“Forever.”

“No men allowed… ever. Let’s promise to eachother that we will never let any man come in between us!”

“Never!”

Naive promises told at a young age, just between 5 best friends. They promised their world to eachother, “best friends ‘till death breaks us apart”. 10 Years passed. The same 5 girls, but no longer blinded by those “stupid promises”. It will be broken. The promise of a lifetime. The lust of love is what makes us all see unclear. We lose our friends, or soulmates, we fall for the unknown, we fall for lies and for the feeling of being important to someone who will drag us far away from who truly matters.

“Forget about the world… forget about them… right now, it’s only me and you. They don’t need to know that I love you.”

CATEGORY: F/F; F/M

Fandom: RED VELVET (Band), NCT (Band)

Relationships: Park Sooyoung / Kim Yerim; Bae Joohyun / Kang Seulgi; Son Seungwan / Nakamoto Yuta

Characters: Park Sooyoung; Kim Yerim, Bae Joohyun, Kang Seulgi, Son Seungwan, Seo Youngho, Jung Jaehyun, Nakamoto Yuta, Dong Si Cheng, Wong Yuk Hei, Lee Taeyong, Chung Ha

Additional Tags: friendship,angst, mistrust, lies, cheating, lesbian interactions, smut, fluff, fashion, models, rich life, etc

RATED: SMUT, FLUFF, ANGST.

CHAPTER 2

Sooyoung found herself in the most awkward encounter with her alleged “boss” at the dinner, in a pub where all you could see were horny couples grinding on eachother on the dance floor and drunk dudes whistleing and winking at her. She felt out of context, especially because all Yuk Hei was doing was drool over every chick who would pass his sight.

“Could you be any more obvious…” sighs Sooyoung.

“Jealous?” says Yuk Hei now smirking at her.

“You’re drunk. Maybe it’s better if I will drive your car to your home, so that I make sure WE get there safe and I can take the subway to my home-“

“I’m not drunk, Sooyoung. I just wanna have some fun tonight, whether if it’s gona be with you or with some random chi-“

Sooyoung was so full of it that her punch met the table in the loundest way possible which made Yuk Hei forget his words.

“Hey.. I was joking, ok..”

“I am not joking here, Yuk Hei. If you just wanted me to come here for you to get me drunk and get laid with me, you should’ve said so. Goddamnit, boys are all the same!” screams Sooyoung, now being angrier than ever before, while grabbing her purse and running out of the pub.

She felt like tearing up. She can’t stand this feeling anymore. Every guy she tries to even be friends with, they all end up wanting “something” back… She is sick of these “species” called males.

“SOOYOUNG!”

Sooyoung doesn’t bother to turn around and she wipes the small tears from her eyes hearing Yuk Hei running after her. Soon, he catches up to her and grabs her hand firmly, turning her to face him, centimeters away from eachother.

“What.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what. Nothing happened there, I’m just tired. Take me home. Or I’ll take the subway.”

“I’ll take you home Sooyoung.”

They were now standing in the even more awkward silence than the atmosphere at the pub. Yuk Hei was pretending to be focused on driving and Sooyoung was desperately refreshing her messages waiting for a message from Yeri who seemed to have been offline the entire day. She sighs.

“What’s wrong..?” says Yuk Hei while putting one hand on her leg.

“Don’t touch me.” And she throws his hand away.

Yuk Hei suddenly stops the car at an empty gas station.

“Sooyoung, I know you don’t have a good impression of me-“

“Damn right.”

“But tonight I invited you to change that.”

“Does it seem like it worked?”

“No.. but I want to make it work.”

“What do you even want Yuk Hei…”

“You.”

Sooyoung swears she gaged at this word.

“Excuse me?”

“Sooyoung… give me a chance.”

“You are my boss!!” quietly screams Sooyoung.

“So? I’m technically not. I am just the chief of your department Sooyoung, and nobody would care anyway. One chance. Let me prove you that you are the only woman I’ve been thinking about lately.”

The strong smell of liquoir was now filling Sooyoung’s nostrils and she knew what she had to do.

“You are drunk and saying nonsense. Grow out of it. Tomorrow you wont even know what you just said now and you will get back to sleeping with 10 different girls per night.”

“That is not true!!” protests Yuk Hei.

“Oh yeah? Tell me more of how you fucked almost all the models from our company until now except me and Chung Ha. Hmm, I wonder WHY you chose exactly me and her to go out with you tonight. Luckly Chung Ha is not a stupid, sensitive person like me.”

Now Sooyoung feels more uncomfortable than ever. She just wants to run out of this stinky car.

“You- How do you know that??!! You got proof, honey??!!” screams Yuk Hei, now seeming like a monster in comparison to the innocent Sooyoung.

“I- BECAUSE I HAVE EARS YOU DUMB SLUT! DON’T YOU THINK I TALK WITH THE GIRLS YOU USE?? Don’t you think they cry to me after you ruin their lives with sweet lies, promising them the moonlight and in the end, leaving them on the edge of killing themselves??!! They feel like worthless whores after you use them!” Sooyoung can’t believe she just had the guts to say this.

“Sooyoung.” Says Yuk Hei while locking the doors of the car.

“W-what. W-what are you doing??” Sooyoung is now on the verge of crying and screaming.

“I will teach you a lesson, Sooyoung. Right here, right now.”

Yuk Hei unzips his pants and Sooyoung swears that she’s going to start crying.

“Yuk Hei please… Let me go, I don’t want you.” Cries Sooyoung while hitting on the door to open.

“After this, you will want me, baby girl.”

He takes his pants off revealing his expensive underwear and his very erected member.

Sooyoung is a smart girl. She wipes off her tears and crawls on top of him.

“See, you already know what you have to do baby girl. Now please your boss and maybe we’ll see about a promotion or something-“ but Sooyoung turns around and presses the button to unlock the doors. She falls on the stone-cold ground of the empty gas station and starts screaming for help. Right when she gets up, Yuk Hei grabs her hand animalistically and covers her mouth. Sooyoung bites with all her power on his finger and Yuk Hei screams in pain. She left her purse in his car, but she couldn’t care less. She is now running, screaming for help, but there was hardly anyone on the street. She runs for the subway station where she finds a tall man, dressed in a suit, lazily scrolling on his phone while waiting for the subway. She runs to him and grabs his hand desperately like her life depended on it. The male stands up in fear.

“Please help me. I am being chased.”

“By who?”

“There is a guy! Tall, black hair, wearing a black shirt and blue jeans. H-he is trying t-o-“

“Don’t worry, stay by my side and if you see him, I will make sure nothing will happen to you, alright? Calm down please.”

Sooyoung takes a seat next to the man who looked so neat and who smelled like vanilla. She is trying to catch her breath when she realized her shirt was half unbuttoned and she lets out a small cry.

“I’m sorry…” she sobs.

“It’s alright. Don’t worry.” Says the man trying to reassure the insanely scared girl.

The subway arrives in the station and they both go in, no sign of Yuk Hei still following her.

“Do you think he is still looking for you?”

“That guy… He is my boss… I will have to face him at work… Or at least when I will apply my resignation.”

“Aha… Do you live far from the subway station where you get down? I can take you to your place if you’re still scared.”

After what happened, Sooyoung couldn’t trust anyone. Especially a stranger. She had no phone or money whatsoever at her so she had no one to call.

“May I use your phone..?” she quietly asks.

“Of course.” Says the man while taking out his huge, expensive phone.

Now the problem was: the only phone numbers she knew were her mom’s, her aunt’s and… Yeri’s. But Yeri hasn’t answered all day to her messages and calls, why would she answer now… She’s probably asleep. But she still tries her luck. She calls.

…

“Hello?”

Sooyoung swears she will start crying hearing the reassuring words of her best-friend.

“Y-yeri-ah… It’s me, Sooyoung. Joy.”

“JOY??!! Is this a new phone?”

“N-no.”

“What is wrong?” and now Yeri’s voice turned darker and more serious than ever.

Sooyoung starts crying.

“Y-yeri.. can you come pick me up from the subway station please.”

“SOOYOUNG WHAT IS WRONG??!! Yes!! I’m coming right now!” there is a pause and then Sooyoung hears the voice of a male on the other end, talking to Yeri and telling her ‘See you some other time?’. Sooyoung’s stomach ached.

“What was that-?”

“What was what? WHERE ARE YOU JOY??!!”

“In the subway, im getting down in 2 minutes. I’ll explain when we meet. Bye.”

…

The man smiles at her.

“Is everything ok? Is someone picking you up?”

“Yes yes! Thank you so much, Mister! This is where I get down… Thank you again…”

Sooyoung must’ve bowed to the man 50 times because she couldn’t thank the him enough.

When she exits the subway, there she is, Yeri, in the most gorgeous dress in the world, a silky black dress complimenting her body like a crown compliments a princess’ head. She worriedly runs to hug Sooyoung tightly and puts her jacket around her.

“Sooyoung… oh my godness… what happened??!!”

Sooyoung wipes her tear of happiness after seeing Yeri.

“Yuk Hei. I went out with him.”

“What??!! Your boss you mean??”

“Ex-boss. I aint walking in that office ever again.” Sobs Sooyoung while being guided by Yeri.

“Oh no… What did he do…”

“He tried to rape me Yeri.”

Yeri could swear she is going to punch a wall. She feels as anger grows inside of her and she feels like both crying and go look for the guy who did this to her other half.

“Soo…young.” Yeri finds her words terribly hard. “I cant believe this..” and she falls into Sooyoung arms, hugging around her small waistline. Sooyoung pats her head and they both start crying under the dark sky filled with stars.

 ---

It is the next day and Irene shows no sign of being calm, standing in front of all the girls, after Sooyoung told them what happened.

“Where does he live???”

“IRENE!!”

“What?? HE needs to pay!”

“And what? You will go and fight him with your pilates movements??” replies Seulgi, making Wendy burst a small laugh.

“Hey.. I think the best way to deal with this is calling the police, right?” says Yeri. “This was almost harassment!”

“ALMOST, Yeri. The police cant do anything if it DIDN’T ACTUALLY HAPPEN and if Sooyoung has no sign of harassment on her body like bruises, hickeys, blood, cum.”

“I do have some bruises from when I fell on my knees…” says Sooyoung looking to the ground like being embarrassed to talk about what happened.

“Doesn’t prove anything!” screams Irene, being on the verge of giving up. She cant take stressful situations for shit.

“Ok ok ok. I see all of us are stressed here so what about: Sooyoung, you give your resignation throught email to the main CEO of your company so that you don’t have to go there and give it yourself and encounter the bastard. Next step, buy you a new phone.” Says Wendy.

“With what money…” replies Sooyoung demolished by the thought that she is now jobless.

“We will help you sweetie!” says Seulgi while kneeling in front of Sooyoung and massaging on her knee like a mother reassuring her daughter.

“I cant girls- I cant let you do this for me… I need a new job.”

“I think I can solve this…” says Yeri.

“Wait? What? How? I thought your company doesn’t accept any new models?” says Irene.

“Not me… I got a.. well… friend who can help you.”

“Friend??” gasps Wendy.

“The guy.. The guy I went out with last night.”

Wendy swears she choked while hearing about him.

“The photographer huh?” she says.

“Yes! Him.”

“Wait what- What guy?” says Sooyoung more confused then ever, until she realizes the male voice she heard last night through Yeri’s phone.

“He is a photographer for my company and for another company aswell. He also said  his other company are looking for more models since they are at the beginning and she asked me if I know any girls willing to do this and guess what-“

“No.” says Sooyoung all of the sudden.

“What??!!” screams Irene. “ Are you crazy Sooyoung??!! This is the best opportunity ever given to you!”

“No… I don’t want the mercy of your boyfriend, Yeri.” And with this, she leaves the room leaving only silence between the girls.

“H-he is n-not my boyfriend.” Stutters Yeri, trying to catch Sooyoung not to leave the house.

“You said y’all went out huh? Wasn’t it like a “date”?”

“I mean… It was but Sooyoung… He’s not my boyfriend, actually, I don’t think we have much in common, I don’t know.” Says Yeri trying to find her right words with her clearly jealous “friend”.

“Problems in paradise…” whispers Irene.

“Irene!!!” screams Seulgi.

Irene is now smirking while leaning on the wall. Seulgi swears sometimes she wants to rip that cocky smile off Irene’s face. She thinks too much. Her mind always “overthinks”. Irene thinks Sooyoung likes Yeri, but Seulgi denies this.

Sooyoung is now back in the room with the girls, sitting next to Yeri who is hugging her, to soften down the panicked friend and try to convince her.

“Sooyoung.” Says Wendy while biting her lip, not knowing if what she s about to say will affect her future… “I think you should accept working for Yeri’s… um.. friend.”

“Yees! See, all of us encourage you, Sooyoungie! Come oon! He is soo nice, you have nothing to worry about! I also heard one of his models is the Instagram Model Seo Soojin!” reassures Yeri excitedly.

“WAIT FOR REAL?” gasps Seulgi.

“Oh my god Seulgi, your crush is showing off…” sighs Irene.

“SHUT UP! You know I love Soojin, I follow her since she started her career!”

“Why don’t u marry her then…” says Irene sassily while looking at her nails.

“Irene… fine, I will shut up…” pouts sadly Seulgi and looks to the ground.

Irene smirks again. Knowing that Seulgi wouldn’t do anything over the power of her word. She basically has Seulgi at her little finger… and she loves it.

---

It’s been a day. The girls spent it all together, watching 2 romantic movies at which Irene wanted to puke 5 times and Wendy didn’t pay any attention. They cooked together, played video games and had silly conversations. Nothing unusual.

Yeri is now alone, on the hallway, calling her photographer friend.

…

“Hello. Hi Yuta, it’s me, Yerimmie.”

“Of course, you don’t need to say who you are you know? It says when you call” says Yuta sarcastically, while letting out a small laugh.

Yeri seemed unphased but she left out a small laugh for the situation to not be awkward.

“So, you told me about your other company and that you are looking for new models?”

The conversation goes on, Yeri basically begging for him to take her bestie, Sooyoung, as a model at that company. They both come to the agreement that Sooyoung needs to come to an interview with him and his friends, the ones that basically run the entire company. He reassures Yeri that they are a trustable company, after Yeri summed up to him what happened to Sooyoung last night with her alleged “boss”.

Wendy listened to the entire conversation. ‘Yuta.. this sure is an unusual name… just as beautiful as the man who owns it…’. Wendy caught herself thinking about him again. This is bad Wendy. BAD BAD BAD.

---

The following day, Sooyoung is more nervous than ever. She just sent her resignation through email to her CEO and she is waiting for an answer while she is getting ready for the job interview Yeri arranged for her. Sadly, Yeri wasn’t available today to come with her, since she had work to do, a runway most exactly, very important and couldn’t miss it. Irene refused to come because she “had better stuff to do”, Seulgi cried about how she has too many photos to edit and the only one left was… Wendy.

“I-I don’t think it’s a good idea…” stutters Wendy knowing that if she goes there, she will see Yuta.

“Comee onn!! Why not! You re the only friend I have left who doesn’t have work to do today. Please!”

“H-how do you know I aint got work t-to do..?”

“YOU DON’T WENDY!! You just said yesterday ‘Oh man, I cant wait for tomorrow to come since I have nothing to do but to laze around’.”

“Oh my god…” Wendy facepalms herself. “You really pay a lot of attention to what I say don’t you…”

“Yes. Now get ready. Dress up formally since not only me, but my bestie has to make a good impression too.”

“Whatever.. all im gona do was cheer cringely for you anyway….”

Still, she knew she will meet him. She had to look good, at least decent.

Wendy decides to go for a green, college-like sweater with a pair of skinny black jeans that complimented her legs like no other, some black knee-high boots and a leather jacket.

Sooyoung was wearing her hair in a ponytail, dressed in a flowy dress, Balenciaga Triple S shoes and a Balenciaga jacket.

They soon leave Sooyoung’ s apartment and they get In her car where she starts blabbering about how nervous she is. Wendy couldn’t help but not focus on what she was saying. She was nervous. She was just as nervous as her best-friend. Maybe even more. ‘No wrong move, Wendy.’ ‘Don’t look at him, Wendy’ ‘Don’t faint, Wendy’. It is BAD BAD BAD.

There they are. In a huge, 45 storey building, all glass everywhere and the most futuristic furniture. Dinamic walls that imitate a waterfall are welcoming the girls at the entrance desk, where an inasanely gorgeous woman in a suit waits for them with a big smile.

“Hello, ladies.”

“Uhm, hello m’am.” Says Sooyoung. “My name is Sooyoung”

Wendy hits her with her shoulder.

“Park Sooyoung” she adds.

“Oh, yes, that’s right! You ve got an interview in 5 minutes, right?”

“Yes! She,, she is my friend, Wendy. She came to support me, is it ok is she comes with me.. please?” pleads Sooyoung with her puppy eyes.

“Yes, of course. All of us need a back-up friend, an interview can be very stressful! Floor 35, Room 102. You have a changing room right next to it. You have the outfit you need to wear waiting for you there. Here is the key to the locker. Good luck!”

She sounded like a little machine at this point, together with her robotic smile. This made Sooyoung even more nervous. In the elevator, Wendy is adjusting her hair.

“Why are you even prepping yourself so much? Its not like you are the one being interviewed…”

“You said it yourself. In order to make a good impression, you need your friend to look just as good as you.” Says Wendy cockily.

“Ugh…” sighs Sooyoung as they get out of the elevator.

Everything is set and done. Sooyoung has changed into the interview outfit which was way less revealing than the one she had to wear for the previous interview for the other company. She felt relieved. This meant they are not some creeps like Yuk Hei. Wendy reassures Sooyoung by telling her she is gorgeous and that she will do well. She combed Sooyoung’s stunning slightly curled hair and now she looks like a princess. She is ready. But, is Wendy ready for what’s about to come?

 “Hello.” Bows Sooyoung politely as she shyly enters Room 102.

She is greeted by 3 of the most beautiful males in the world. Sooyoung is feeling it again. She will stand in front of 3 males. 3 insanely gorgeous males. They looked like models for the biggest modelling company. She couldn’t believe her eyes that they were just some CEOs.

She is followed by Wendy who refuses to look at the table where the 3 men where standing. She greets them with a small bow and stands next to Sooyoung as she is introducing her as her friend and asks for permission if she can stay during the interview.

“Of course.”

She heard this voice, this so familiar voice. She finally gains courage and looks up at the table. There he was, the man she has been dreaming for 3 days now. The “forbidden” temptation. He had his hair pushed back now. His blonde hair was now sleeked back, leaving sight to his forehead. He was wearing a white shirt with rolled up sleeves, showing off his expensive Rollex. His accompanied friends weren’t any lower than him.

“You can take a seat next to us” kindly but intimidatingly  says one of the others. “ My name is Dong Sicheng and I am the CEO of this company. I want to welcome you here first, and wish you luck. I wont be talking during this interview, I will let my mates do this.”

The CEO was definitely something else. A slender man, but very good-looking. All dressed in a black suit and a red tie. His auburn hair looked insanely sharp, as it was styled with care like it was the creation of God. He sure was intimidating. Standing there, not saying a word but analyzing every move with the attention of a tiger aiming for it’s prey.

“My name is Kim Doyoung. You may introduce yourself” said the last man of the 3.

She recognized him. Sooyoung. Sooyoung knew him. It was him. The man that saved her in the subway. The insanely kind and amazing guy that offered his phone to her. The tall and handsome male was looking at Sooyoung like he knew her. He recognized the girl and gave her a reassuring smile. She could read a warm “everything will be alright!” on his face, just like two nights ago. He looked just as sleek as that night. Suit, pushed back hair with a sense of gel in it.

Wendy quietly sat on the other side of their table, next to Doyoung, so that she wont have to sit next to Yuta. She felt followed. She didn’t know why but she had the impression he was looking at her. Even if she knew, its all in her panicked head. The males smelled absolutely heavenly. She felt like she was sitting among the angels.

Sooyoung was doing so well, she was showing off her amazing body in the most sensual ways and the males seemed to show now sign of “perversion” at her presentation. They seemed formal and professional. This boosted Sooyoung’s confidence even more, knowing she is not showing herself off to some “preditors”. Wendy smiled to Sooyoung the entire time, but she couldn’t help not stare at Yuta while he was focused on studying Sooyoung. Wendy analysed Yuta like the most surreal painting you find in a museum, trying to uncover his secrets. She wanted to know more. She wanted to know him. She needed to approach Yuta. But no. This is BAD BAD BAD.

Sooyoung was now done and the males sent her to the changing room to put back her casual clothes. Wendy was left alone with them. She felt like the minutes became hours. She was sweating so bad and the silence was a killer. Until one of them broke it and said “What do you think?”.

“Isnt it weird for us to talk about this next to her friend?” said the CEO, Sicheng, nonchalantly, like Wendy couldn’t hear them just perfectly.

“Don’t mind me… I can leav-“

“No, theres no problem.” Stopped Yuta.

She swore her heart fell to the ground and came back to her chest. It meant nothing to him, he was just being nice and a professional man, but yet, in her hopeful mind, she hoped that maybe he found the slightest interest in her.

The males were filling the room with their deep, rough voices as they were talking about Sooyoung. In the end, they decided to accept her. Wendy jumped off her seat unconscioudly and screamed a small “YES!”.

The males were staring at her blankly. Except for Yuta, who started smiling and broke the silence with a small laugh.

“You must be really happy for your best friend. Especially after what I heard happened to her. I am so sorry.” He said.

That was it. She felt like there was only him and her right now.

“Y-yes. She suffered a lot. You guys gave her a chance to be happy again and gain her own money, she is a very hard-working person, don’t worry about it!” added Wendy, trying to be as serious as she could.

Sooyoung entered the room and Wendy could read on her face that she was extremely anxious and nervous. She ran to hug her. This made Doyoung and Yuta smile a little. Sicheng looked at them and rolled his eyes. The man for sure was the most professional here and he was very stiff. He announced Sooyoung that she was accepted, gave her a timetable, a key to her new private locker and changing room and a list with all the phone numbers and the names of them and the models of their company. Wendy’s eyes widened when she saw Yuta’s number on that paper. But, she would never have the courage to ever use it… Would she?

Right after saying goodbye to them and before leaving, Yuta calls for Wendy.

“Hey, I just wanted to know, are you by any chance the girl that was at Yerim’s apartment when I came to take her? You seem familiar, that’s why.” Said Yuta while gathering the scattered papers from the desk.

“Yes. Its me. I also recognized you.” Says Wendy slightly awkwardly.

“Ah, that’s nice. So if im friends with Yeri, I guess we can be too… or?”

Wendy swore she felt like she was just asked to prom in the 7th grade by the cutest guy in the class. But they were two grown up adults. Yet he made her feel so comfortable, so childish around him.

She rushes a “Yes, yes! Of course!”.

“That is great” he shows a sweet smile. So sweet she feels her feet melt. His whole face took another meaning when he smiled. “Ask Yeri or Sooyoung for my number, if you ever need anything or just want to… you know, see eachtoher at a coffee or something.”

“Ah. Yes, sure!” she couldn’t think of anything smart to say. She was brainwashed.

They were now in Sooyoung’s car, on their way to Seulgi’s place where they all were planning to see eachother and celebrate Sooyoung’s new job. Wendy was looking on the window the whole way home. She was smiling. She was happy. She was feeling for this man something she hasn’t ever felt before for a man, and she had many meaningful relationships throughout her life. But never has she dreamt at a man the way she keeps thinking at this one. Next step: she had to know what Yerim truly feels for this man! She had to know if she has to erase him forever from her memory or if maybe she has a chance.

They got to Seulgi’s place where they were greeted with arms opened by all the girls. Even Irene seemed truly happy, she had a wide smile that the girls haven’t seen in so long.

“Soooo… HOW DO WE PARTY TONIGHTT??!!” jumps Yeri excitedly.

“Why don’t we go to the club?” proposes Seulgi. “I don’t really want to clean up over a party that we would hold at my place”.

“I would help you…” mumbles Irene.

“Shuut up! I want in a club!” protests Seulgi who seemed like a child who wants candies.

“I am alright with this!” says Wendy while staying on her phone, looking for clubs.

They all agreed in the end, more or less they had to drag Irene there. They were all getting ready and Yerim was in the bathroom doing her make-up since the whole bedroom was packed with the other girls. Wendy saw the perfect oprtunity. Now it’s the time. Now or never.

“Yerimie…” says Wendy shyly cracking the bathroom door open to make sure she wasn’t gona walk on to Yeri being naked or something.

“Yes, Wendy?”

“Hey…” she scratched the back of her neck. “You know… just a question…”

“Sure, what is it” says Yeri nonchalantly while applying lip gloss.

“I just wanted to ask you, you know, just from pure curiosity. How was that date with… what was his name..” she pretended to forget the name she has been having in mind all the time.

“Yuta. It was… nice I guess.”

“You guess?” she felt her heart skipping.

“Yeah. The guy is ok, very charming, handsome, well mannered, a real gentleman. But I don’t really wanna mess into a relationship with my photographer. It would be slightly weird and if we ever get to break up, I could never pose for him again, it would be awkward.”

“I see…”

“So yeah. But I am interested in keeping to see him. You know, as friends I guess. I don’t really know what else to say about him.”

“Aha… Alright then, I was thinking to take a shower before leaving, are you done with your make-up?”

“Yes, just now. You can have fun in the shower.” Says Yeri while smirking and patting Wendy on the shoulder.

This is exactly what she needed to do. Relax herself, make her lose her mind for a moment. She could lose her mind but he would still not leave it. Wendy enters the shower and pleases herself thinking about him, hoping that he does the same.

 The girls are now all prepped and ready to go hit the biggest club in Seoul, Octagon. Any male that would see them now, would feel their boner kicking in. Five insanely hot girls, all dressed in leather skirts, dressed or pants, crop tops and high heels being the main star of their outfits. They looked like they were heading out for Seoul Fashion Week, not for a club night. 

Little did they know was that tonight was about to be a night to remember, forever…

[nuka-nuke]

Love Letters

Ilya learns something new about Mike. 

@life-is-no-sugarlicking comes up with a lot of great headcanons for Ilya and Mike’s relationship, but this one inspired me to actually try to write it! So here ya go, my first ever fic. Starring her character Mike, which if you don’t know him, what are you doing with your life? 

The air hung heavily in the penthouse of Fizztop Grille. It was fairly early into the summer months, and already the humidity of Massachusetts was bringing on a familiar haze to the theme park. Mike drew his cigarette up to his lips and inhaled slowly, allowing the nicotine to fill his lungs, and eventually letting the plume of smoke add to the stagnant atmosphere with a deep sigh. He laid lazily upon the bed on the raised wooden platform in the corner of the room with half-lidded eyes staring upwards towards that weird painting of some kind of pre-war sunset that hung above the headboard, unable to find the motivation to finally get himself up off that ancient mattress.

It had been hours since he woke up in the unbearable heat to find the Boss had already left his side. In the past couple of weeks since he had been spending more time here than in the arcade he normally resided, he had learned that it was normal for her to rise before him since she had such issues with the weather, but a glance around indicated that she had headed out for the day. Most likely with that suck up piece-of-shit he added to the thought with a visible sneer. He despised when she’d leave with him alone. Gage may still be her right-hand man, but that did not change the fact that he had an unfortunate amount of familiar knowledge of their mutual boss. Even though she insisted those ties had been cut, and even though he knew it was childish, he still fumed at the thought anytime it arose in his mind.

Not that it matters or anything, he bitterly crushed the cigarette out right onto her nightstand, It’s not like she ‘n I’ve anything different.

But the interrupting sound of the elevator creaking its way up the side of the building made him perk up, and with a mechanical whirl he swung his prosthetic leg onto the floor to finally rise up off the bed.

“Hey there, Snowflake,” Mike grinned at the sight of his boss as the elevator reached its final stop.

Her normally carefully styled silver hair looked disheveled with loose strands of curls falling out of her ponytail and off into the air, and her automatic rifle, painted obnoxiously with the style of the Pack, was slung haphazardly over her shoulder along with a clutch of documents she held in her hands. Even her make-up was smeared across her right cheek with the struggle of a long day’s work.

Ilya wordlessly dropped her weapon to the side with a resounding clatter as soon as the elevator drew to a stop. Her footsteps over the threshold seemed drawn and exhausted, but in his vision, she was still like a corporeal work of art, coming to life to free him from this boring day. Like a magnet, her arms immediately draped themselves around him and he scooped her up from the ground into a grateful embrace.

She dusted the scarred cheek she was presented with with several kisses before simply resting her head onto his bare shoulder. “Baby… Am I ever glad to see you,” her voice was quiet and wistful, unusual for his normally confident Overboss.

Mike couldn’t help but smirk at the compliment, whether she meant it as one or not didn’t really matter, and swung her down to the antique sofa beside the entrance. He sat with a metallic creak of protest from his artificial limb and placed her onto his lap. She made no effort to change the direction in which he carried her and seemed quite content just to nestle into the chest of the man who greeted her.

“Yeah? Rough day out there, huh?” he answered, his voice hoarse with the cigarettes and whiskey he’d occupied his day so far with. He shifted her slightly until he could properly press a kiss to those lips that graced his mangled cheek.

Ilya rose to meet the affection and hummed with a pleased sigh. “Well, do you know what a Gatorclaw is?” she began, those icy blue eyes finally flicking up from under long lashes to meet his gaze.

Mike visibly flinched when she did, but tried to play it off with a casual maneuver to brush the bangs off her forehead. He’d never outright admit it to her, but those eyes of hers were seriously terrifying; like nothing he’d ever seen before in all the radioactive wastelands he’d traversed. While they could viciously strike fear into the souls of many of the men and women here in Nuka World, he had learned to find that healthy fear of her almost arousing during all this time they’d spent together.  She could still be pretty scary when she wanted to be, though.

“Ehh, can’t say I do,” again, he punctuated the sentence with a resolute kiss.

“Then you’re lucky,” Ilya grumbled, finally shifting out of his embrace to stand and toss the documents which remained in her grasp onto the coffee table beside them.

Mike glanced down towards the papers with a disinterested sigh. He had been more enthused by the Boss making herself comfortable on his lap and was disappointed that that was already over.  “What’s all this?” he said in a tone which obviously hinted that he actually didn’t care, and instead focused on watching her walk away.

“Hmm. Just… Some things from Gage,” she hesitated without looking back, and he could feel his stomach sink. Just the mention of that name killed the mood he’d been trying to create. “Don’t worry about it.”

Her flippant disregard of something that clearly would annoy him just annoyed him even more. “Well, what is it?” he tried to play it off like it really didn’t matter, but he could tell by the way she immediately looked over her shoulder with those piercing eyes that he didn’t fool her one bit.

“Why don’t you just fucking read it if it bothers you?” Ilya responded coolly.

For a brief second his expression faltered, as if she had slung a harsh insult at him instead of a simple suggestion. Her brow furrowed thoughtfully.

Over the years in her life before all this, she had worked hard to make herself astute to the needs of others. She could tell what someone wanted, and especially what they wanted to hear, before even they knew. “She could sell ice to an eskimo” as her father always put it, and it was a skill she benefitted from greatly while in this new wasteland. And in this moment, she paused to choose her words carefully.

“Mike,” she slowly started, in a much softer tone, “ … do you not know how to read?”

“W-what?” He let out a short scoff and quickly stood up, waving a hand towards the papers nonchalantly. “Of course I can fuckin’ read, you think I’m an idiot? Man, you’re crazy,”

She stared at him silently. The feeling of her analyzing him was palpable and it made his face burn.

“I just, y’know, really don’t give a shit what kinda love letters you’re sharing behind my back with your ex-man, yeah? Like, he’s probably… probably just jealous that you’re with me now, fuckin’ obviously. Who wouldn’t be?” Mike shrugged with an over the top flourish and turned away from her. Her lips had curved into a hurt looking frown and he couldn’t stand to see it, especially with knowing he had caused it. He knew he was overreacting too much for her to actually believe him, but he couldn’t stop; for some reason just her finding out this one simple thing about him seemed to send him spiraling into a panic.

If she knew this, she knew some way she was better than him. She knew a weakness... And showing weakness only ever leads to getting himself hurt again.

“I didn’t mean that as an insult,” her tone remained the same, melodic and soothing, despite the fact that his seemed to unintentionally be rising in volume. “It’s just, not something I expected. That’s pretty uncommon, even in this world,” Ilya took a few tentative steps closer until she could see his face again, identifying from the way he stood avoiding her eyes that she was probably the first person to figure this out about him on their own and clearly he wasn’t equipped to deal with this kind of embarrassment.

“… So what now, you’re pitying me?” Mike cringed, just wishing he could have backtracked and reigned in his petty jealousy to avoid all this. “I don’t need your pity, Boss. You don’t…” he stopped himself, finally turning to look down with his mutilated vision onto the face of the woman standing so closely at his side. She was observing him thoughtfully with those translucent blue eyes, like maybe she actually genuinely had feelings, or at the very least some kind of compassion for him, but he told himself that he had learned better over the years than to fall for that. Everyone in this Wasteland was only looking after themselves, including himself, and she’d find some way she could use this against him. But his own thoughts sent a pang through his heart.

One of her ghostly hands extended to rest upon his back, the gentle contact against his skin sending an electric pulse through his whole body that knocked him out of the hypnotic effect of her gaze.  He whipped around to face her fully, shoving that tiny hand away in the process. “You can’t know what my life was like, okay, Ilya? You think I had time for shit like that? I mean, fuck—“ his voice wavered and he hated it, one hand furiously rubbing into his blind eye. “I worked since I could walk. I grew up on a shitty farm out here, and I worked, just like everyone else. We all did. Me, my parents, my sist—“

Mike groaned to interrupt himself, having said too much again. Every time he opened his mouth, it was like a tidal wave of words he really didn’t ever want to say, but couldn’t hold them back. She didn’t even need to say anything and he was pouring out his fucking guts to her, what the fuck was wrong with him?

These were things he never wanted to talk about, things no one knew about as far as he was aware. He hated seeming like a weak wastelander like all the rest out there and kept up his confident visage at all times, at all cost. But despite himself, here he was, for some reason laying out to her his actual emotions plain as day. He just felt an inherent need to make her understand; he couldn’t let her walk away and think less of him, and the strain of attachment he suddenly felt for the Overboss seemed to facilitate his desire to explain himself. How did she manage to have this kind of hold over him?

It’s not like me and her have anything deeper than she had with Gage, the thought again bitterly resurfaced, but at this point he even found himself reluctant to believe it.

He was deeply considering at the moment how effective it would be to just shoot himself in his good leg with her rifle there on the ground to get out of this conversation when he was drawn out of his mind by those tiny arms extending up to loop around his neck. Ilya was significantly shorter than him and needed to stand on the toes of her boots to reach, but still strong enough to yank him down to her height and reconnect their lips in a forceful kiss, silencing all his grumbling once and for all. He could feel his stomach twist into knots for reasons he really didn’t want to delve too far into and the panic seemed to come to an abrupt pause. Unsure of how to respond from here, he just stood there, dumbly bent in half into his lover with his arms hanging at his sides.  

After a few minutes, she leaned out of the kiss, but did not allow him any opportunity to storm off again; her right hand tangled itself into his messy blonde hair to redirect his head to rest face down into her chest. The motion was so gentle and careful that despite his instinctive reaction, he couldn’t even find the ability to force himself to remain on guard against her. His own arms slowly lifted, enveloping her small frame in a returning embrace with only a moderate amount of remaining caution. “You don’t need to be so worried,” Ilya began, and with his face buried in her breasts he couldn’t see but felt another small peck be placed against his temple. ”I care about you... And you can trust me,” she spoke softly, her voice now down so low he could barely hear it, as if this was a secret which only he was allowed to know.

This comfort was so unusual than anything he’d experienced before that it threw him off. She wasn’t judging him or mocking him. She didn’t even seem effected at all about any of the frantic rambling he just poured out onto her. Nothing that he expected to come did. Instead she just whispered kindly with that indiscernible accent she had, holding him tightly until he sighed the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been keeping.

In that moment, he even found himself actually believing her.

“Besides, of course Gage is jealous I’m with you now. I mean, why wouldn’t he be?” Mike let out a muffled laugh and finally she could feel the tension release from his shoulders.

Both arms abruptly squeezed her tighter and then he tilted his head away from her chest so he could glance back into her eyes. “Ah, what’s that? Sorry mate, I was distracted by these tits. Fantastic.” He grinned, relieved the conversation had successfully shifted tones when he heard her bright sarcastic laugh as a response.

She swiftly stepped backwards until they were reacquainted with her ragged old couch again, never letting her hold on him slack. She dragged him along with her the whole way back, causing him to trip over his own feet to remain attached to the much tinier person in the way she demanded from him. Finally they were face to face once more, one mechanical leg pressed into the sagging cushions beside her hips, where she could adequately reunite their lips once again. In the middle of the kiss, she practically purred her response, answering his joke with a very serious, “Oh, you can believe I will give you something to be distracted by.”

[duce-thruce]

ThorBruce Week Day 3- Comfort

A/N: I’m showing up late to the party, but I thought I should contribute a bit haha.

Summary: “Thor came to the understanding that whether it was Bruce or Hulk, he was loved and would always love them back.” Gorr, the God Butcher shows up and Thor is his target. The revengers come to his aid. 

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Characters losings limbs, slight angst.  

Wordcount: 1551

The first thing Hulk heard was the crackling. The strident sound of bones cracking reverberated through the spaceship. Hulk threw a blue-green alien, smashing it into a wall before he turned around.

Thor was squirming on the ground resembling a bug rather than god. Towering him was a cloaked creature, the arch of its back curving over like a praying mantis. It wielded a pitch black sword, clutching Thor by the neck.

Through his teeth, Thor spoke. “Why are you doing this?”

The creature’s lips curved into a malicious smile. “I am Gorr, the God Butcher.”

Then as if to slit Thor’s throat, Gorr set the blad up to his neck.

“NooOOO!!!” Hulk screeched, his voice almost halting the battle. Witnessing Thor become meek and fragile after a matter of seconds, caused the Hulk to become fearful.  

Another alien jumped at him, he merely swatted them away. Hulk tried to gage his own emotions, but one beast jumped on top of him after another. However, his energy only increased the longer he was away from Thor. Every enemy that charged to him died, beaten against the metal of the ship.

“The God Butcher?” Valkyrie asked, running to a spot. She swung the sword, aiming for the Gorr’s shriveled skull. “You will not harm him.” It was a declaration so assured, and very Valkyrie-esque.

Hulk didn’t care who the monster hovering over Thor was. He had to die. That was Hulk’s conviction. With righteous anger, Hulk will crush him to ashes.

The last of the little putrid, blue monsters stood. Thor still quivering along the floor gave a lingering look towards him. Valkyrie protected him, but even she was beginning to struggle with the God Butcher.

Finally, slaying the last of the henchmen, Hulk rushed to Thor, calling out to him in agony.

“Hulk,” Valkyrie commanded,”Buddy, you have to finish this guy off for me.”

Hulk grunted, yanking the killer off the ground. With one hand, he held Gorr by the skull. His head appeared like a walnut in his hands.

He could snap his neck right there and finish the job, but a moan of pain from Thor, lighted his eyes in rage. He peered into Gorr’s beady eyes growling, revealing a long row of teeth.

“If you think you can kill me, you can’t. This amulet gives me all the power I need. I have slain gods of war, peace, love, famine, nature and now I will add the God of Thunder to my list. It is my destiny to decimate the gods of this universe.”

Hulk scoffed, slamming the body into the floor, smooshing it further down, creating a large dent.

“Hulk is no god. You can’t hurt Hulk.”

Then seeing that the Gorr was still alive, he rammed the body into the floor once more.

Hulk paid no mind to the cries of his enemy. He had experience in ruthless killing and conquering on Sakaar, and those killings were more of an afterthought. But this was brutile, unfiltered fury that he was working with.

Piece by piece, Gorr became fragments of flash and bones, and was forming into compost in Hulk’s hands. Ruthlessly, he tossed the body around, never heading the cries of the dying beast. As blood, splashed all over his chess, Hulk ceased his temper tantrum, considering making the killing more ruthless. .

From the corner of his eyes, Hulk could see Thor limping against Val’s shoulder. One last surge of anger was all it took for him to rip that disgusting creature clean in half.

If the God butcher had any last words, there was no one to hear them.

Thor’s gentle voice rang through. “Hulk. Don’t be like that.” But the butcher was an unrecognizable pile of meat. Banner will surely squirm at the sight of that.

Rushing to Thor’s side, Hulk reached out to Thor. No longer angry, he only felt discomfort at the sight of someone so indestructible, someone that he cared about crumbling before him. With his open hand, still using Val as leverage, Thor reached to Hulk.

They were touching each other’s faces. Thor’s smile was telling him everything would be okay, and Hulk believe that..

He submitted himself to the comfort of Thor’s touch, and allowed himself to rest.

Although Hulk was aware of everything that went down on the ship, Bruce awoke distorted and shocked. Before his eyes was Thor with Val at his side. To his surprised, a giant gash was present at Bruce’s knee, residing all the way down his calf. The bone was visible.

“Thor??” was all he could choke out, a terrified lump in his throat  building up. He felt a bit dizzy at the sight of the blood and guts all over him.

Fighting off his own tears, Bruce grabbed Thor’s free hand and placed himself beneath the other man. He could do at least this much.

Thor’s groaning incited fear into Bruce. He couldn’t lose Thor, not when they just found each other, and not when everything seemed to be going well between them.

The ship had several sleeping compartments, and when they came to Thor’s they helped him to lay down. After making sure Thor was comfortable, Val hurried to the medicine cabinet.

Thor grimaced pain surging through his body. A bead of sweat rolled down his face.

Bruce grabbed his hand and gave it a hard squeeze.

“It’s going to be okay.. I promise I will do anything to make this better.” Resting his head on the hand he was holding, Bruce swallowed his need to sob.

“I feel like I should be telling you that, Love.” Thor chuckled despite the agony he was in.

A moment of silence fell between them, one man crying and the other trying not to. But Thor was more of an emotional lover than a stoic warrior, and the second he heard Bruce’s broken sobs, gentle tears fell down his face too.

When Val returned with the giant emergency kit, she also brought back a surprise.

“Look who I found.” She said as she rushed inside to quickly get to work. Loki didn’t hesitate to follow her inside. It was lucky for him, that when Gorr hunted their ship, he was elsewhere making a deal with the Grandmaster. No one really knew what that man was up to. He could have easily became another on the list of the god-killer’s victims

“Thor!” Loki called out, staring at the profound wound.

“Brother.” Thor hummed, giving Loki a nod, before returning his attention to Bruce who was in shambles, still clinging to his hand.

Approaching the bed with caution, Loki asked, “How I can be of service.”

He face the fierce eyes of a warrior, but no reproach was given. At these moments, Val tended to be more critical of the trickster god, but today she pointed at bottle of liquid.

“Give him some of this. It’s a pain killer. He’s going to need a lot of it.”

Loki nodded, pouring the thick as syrup liquid into a cup, and carrying it to Thor who was gritting his teeth. Through his grimace, Thor drank the medicine as Loki brought it to his face. It tasted like strong liquor mixed with heavy amounts of plants and herbs. Minty, but not refreshing.

Bruce was still holding onto him when Valkyrie stopped inspecting the wound.  Her face was grim.

Loki was beside her, his eyes sorrowful. He shut them and looked at his feet.

Val clasped her hands together. “Thor, I can’t save your leg.”

Bruce gave his cold hand a squeeze, his eyes only watching Thor’s face.

The pain was subsiding only a bit, as he realized that the medicine might have contained something more than all natural ingredients. He was dazed, but not enough.

“Chop the thing off.” His resolve outweighed the other options.

Many years ago, this situation would have been the worst case scenario. But he had seen his brother die twice before, witnessed the loss of Asgard, and more importantly, his people. A leg was nothing.

Bruce stayed with Thor, the entire time, although Loki left the room. Whatever his attitude may tell, deep down he couldn’t bare see his brother hurting.

Bruce couldn’t bare to see Thor in pain either, but he knew that he had to be Thor’s strength and support. He could protect Thor as much as Hulk.

Every second that the surgery went on as Val hacked away, Bruce petted Thor’s head, in gentle motions, wiping off sweat.  Sometimes, he would place his forehead on Thor’s or whisper little secrets in his ear to distract him from the pain. The medicine was only capable of so much.

When it was all over, there was nothing below his right thigh. Loki walked back inside, placing a hand on Thor’s shoulder. He smiled but turned his attention to Bruce’s face, stained with tears.

One hand on his forehead and another in his hand, every ounce of Thor was full of Bruce.

Thor was aware of what Bruce had to grow through, seeing him in such agony must have ripped his soul to bits. But he stayed to be his comfort and Thor came to the understanding that whether it was Bruce or Hulk, he was loved and would always love them back.

[atombombbagel]

Ahhhh these make me feel sad for Nate. Can you do a third version where Nate can be happy too and everyone is friends? 🐣

Okay! So this is another Alternate Ending (we’ll call it ALT 3) to the Nate Drama! 

PART 1ALTERNATE ENDING 1ALTERNATE ENDING 2

Sole was a little frightened by the way Nate might react to thenews. She was leaving him, for good. Nate smiled as Sole appeared in his sightsand she returned the look with a polite smile. Sole looked down at the groundfor a moment, she didn’t want to hurt him, but she also couldn’t lie to himabout how she felt. It wouldn’t be fair on either of them, or the [companion] shewas currently dating. The whole situation was complicated.

“You’re back, I know this was a lot to take in,” Nateacknowledged, wrapping his arms around Sole in a brief hug. Sole smiled with uncertainty at him. “Are you alright?” he asked in concern and Sole shook her head.

“Nate… I can’t be with you,” Sole admitted, her gaze fallingback to the ground. She felt ashamed that she couldn’t look him in the eye asshe spoke. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She was surprised when Nate reached forwardand gently rubbed her arm.

“I understand. I’ve heard a lot about what you’ve done aroundthe Commonwealth.” He smiled at her. “You’ve changed and that’s okay.”

“I don’t… you’re okay with this?” Sole stepped back in confusion.This definitely wasn’t how she was expecting things to go. Nate looked behindSole, noticing the [companion] standing behind her.

“Is this?” Sole nodded. “If Sole’s fallen in love with you, thenyou must be great and she trusts you.” He reached out his hand. “Nice to meetyou,” he said with a smile plastered on his face.

Cait: Caitwas shocked with how nice Nate was being with Sole. She for a fact would feelangry and betrayed if she was in Nate’s shoes. Cait looked from Sole to Nate. Whatwas he playing at? Surely he was pulling their leg? She cocked an eyebrow.

“What’s yer game?” Cait asked tiltingher head. Nate chuckled and smiled at Cait. He looked genuine but Cait couldn’tshake off the bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“No game.” He shrugged. “I just want Sole to behappy.” Cait finally reached forward and shook his hand. That was awfully niceof him but she still wasn’t buying it. “I’m happy for you Sole, truly,” he said,looking back over at Sole.

“Thank you,” Sole replied with a smile. She reachedover and squeezed Cait’s hand.

“I hope we can remain friends.” Nate turned towardsCait. “It was nice to meet you,” he finished before turning around. Cait wasstill in a state of shock. She turned to look at Sole, her hand still firmly inSole’s.

“Did he just give us his blessin’?” Cait askedslack-jawed and Sole nodded.

“Yeah, he did.”

Curie: “Itis a pleasure,” Curie enunciated, reaching for Nate’s hand and shaking it. “I’veheard so much about you monsieur,” she added. Nate beamed from ear to ear.

“Good things I hope,” Nate said witha laugh. His eyes softened as he looked at the two of them. Sole wrapped an armaround Curie. “I’m so happy you found someone to love you.” Sole blushed, lookingdown. Curie and Sole were both glad Nate felt this way about their relationship,that he was accepting. Sole wrapped her arms around Nate’s neck, giving him a quicksqueeze before she pulled away and pecked his cheek.

“Thank you for understanding,” Solewhispered and Nate smiled. “I hope you stick around and get to know her, she’swonderful.” Curie heard Sole and blushed, looking away. She couldn’t wait to getto know Nate and hear all the wonderful stories he’d shared with Sole. Solelooked back and beamed at Curie in admiration.

“I’d like that, a lot,” Nate said.

“Oh!” Curie exclaimed in excitement. “Weshould all go out for a nice meal!”

Danse: “PaladinDanse-” Danse clasped Nate’s hand and shook it firmly, looking over at Sole ashe did so. This is what people did right? When they met their girlfriend’s ex? Hedidn’t know, he hadn’t been in this situation before but he remained polite inany case. “You can just call me Danse, sir.” He shook his head. “Nate.” He’dmessed up their first interaction, hadn’t he? He turned to Sole who was giggling.

“That’s quite a handshake,” Natejoked, laughing lightly and Danse smiled. “Anyhow,” Nate started, “its nice tomeet the man who’s been looking after Sole.” Danse’s cheeks turned red.

“It’s an honour too. Sole is quitethe woman,” Danse wrapped his arm around Sole’s shoulder, squeezing her lightly.“She’s helped me through a lot recently.”

“That’s Sole for you, always thehelper.” Nate smiled at Sole, “I’m happy for the two of you. And don’t worry, Iwon’t get in your way,” he paused. “It was good to see you Sole, I wish you twoall the best.” Sole reached forward and hugged him.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “You too.”

Deacon:Deacon was unsure whether he should shake Nate’s hand or not. Would it be rudenot to? He wasn’t suited for situations like this. Sole looked over at Deacon,nudging his arm with her elbow.

“John Smith,” Deacon said shaking hishand and Sole shook her head. What? He didn’t know if he could trust him yet.What if all this was just a ploy to get to know him and share his secrets withhis enemies. He couldn’t risk it.

“This is Deacon,” Sole corrected herboyfriend, rolling her eyes. “He’s nervous.”

“I completely understand. Can’t be easyliving in these times. Hell, I found it difficult so far,” Nate admitted, andDeacon nodded. He agreed fully with what Nate was saying. “I’ve heard what yourorganisation has done for Sole, she deserves someone like you.”

If only he knew the full story. Deacon thought to himself.

“He treats you right?” Nate asked andSole nodded. “Then don’t let me stop you guys.” He was happy that Sole hadfound someone as great as Deacon was. They deserved to be happy.

Gage:Gage wasn’t sure if Nate was being all that sincere. Surely he didn’t want his wifedating and sleeping with a raider. A murderer. A scoundrel. But the smile onNate’s face didn’t budge for a second, even as he looked Gage up and down,taking in his appearance. Nick withdrew his hand, rubbing it on his shirt. Was henervous? Gage laughed, he supposed he could be a little intimidating.

“The names Gage,” he said with aquick nod. He possessively grabbed Sole’s hand and laced their fingers together.Sole was the first good thing to happen to him in a while and he wasn’t goingto let Nate swan in and steal her from him.

“Great to meet you Gage,” Nate said,and Gage grunted. He didn’t mean to come off so rude but he couldn’t help it. “Okay,well I hope we can all get along.” he turned to Sole. “Because I want Sole inmy life, strictly as friends. You have my word on that.” Gage nodded.

“Alright.” Gage finally held out hishand and Nate shook it. “Good to meet you.”

Hancock:Nate was shocked when he saw Hancock’s face. He still couldn’t get used to thethings in this new world he’d found himself in, but if Sole was happy, then hewas happy. Hancock was happy to shake Nate’s hand, in fact, he couldn’t believehow pleasant and good-natured Nate was being.

“Mayor Hancock.” He couldn’t help butfeel nervous at the fact that Nate, a perfect looking smooth-skin had waltzedback in to Sole’s life. The thought of her leaving him for Nate, ate away atthe already paranoid feeling in his gut. Sole could sense how he was feeling.

“He’s helped me through a lot,”

“I’ve heard. Its no wonder you two fellin love,” He paused. “I couldn’t be happier that you’re with such a man. He canlook after you like I never could.” Hancock couldn’t stop a grin from formingon his face.

“You really know how to flatter a man!”Hancock mused, patting Nate’s back. “I’m buying you a drink.”

MacCready:MacCready couldn’t help but feel insecure as he looked up at the older man,well-dressed man. He was a better match for Sole, not like him. An ex-mercenarytype with a foul mouth, whereas Nate was excruciatingly good-natured and nice. Fu-fudge him.

“Robert,” MacCready said, feeling asthough using his first name would be a little more formal in this situation. Heshook his head, it didn’t make him feel any more confident.

“It’s a pleasure,” Nate expressed,shaking MacCready’s hand with a beaming smile stretched across his face. MacCreadyscoffed. Could he be more charming? “Sole really knows how to pick ‘em.”

What did he mean by that? RJ thought.

“I’ve heard great things fromCodsworth,” he paused, “and I’ve also heard how great the two of you aretogether.” He looked over at Sole. “You have my blessing completely. I won’tstay in your hair anyhow.” He nodded as he began to walk away.

“Wont you stay for a while?” MacCreadycalled after him. “I’m sure you and Sole have some catching up to do.”

Maxson:Nate was a little uneasy in front of Maxson. He was bigger and taller than himand the look on his face was quite intimidating. Maxson cocked an eyebrow. He didn’treally shake hands with anyone, but he supposed he could make an exception forthe man who used to hold Sole’s heart. Who was he kidding he couldn’t.

“Elder Maxson, Brotherhood of Steel,”He said formally, and Sole raised her eyebrows. She hadn’t expected him to answerwith such hostility. He nodded, and Nate got the idea and put his hand down byhis side.

“But you can totally call him Arthur,”Sole added, crossing her arms over her chest. Maxson looked over at her andsighed.

“Wow, you’ve done well for yourselfbagging him,” Nate mused and Sole laughed.

“Yeah.” She looked up at Maxson. “Ireally did.” She unfolded her arms and reached over to lace her fingers withMaxson’s. He smiled at the gesture.

“I’m happy for you Sole.” Maxsonplanned on being the kind of man that Sole needed and with confidence fromNate, he was sure he could achieve that.

Nick:Nate was a little surprised that Sole had decided to shack up with a synth,especially one like Nick Valentine but he’d also heard great things about theCommonwealth’s favourite detective.

“It’s an honour,” Nick smiled with anod before he took Nate’s hand with his metal one, shaking it lightly. Hedropped his hand back to his side. He wasn’t all that confident meeting Sole’sfirst love especially looking the way he did but Sole flashed him a reassuring smileand gently rubbed his arm with her hand.

“I’ve heard many great stories aboutthe adventures you’ve been on,” Nate declared. He was proud of all the cases Nickand Sole had solved together and it was an added bonus that they’d fallen inlove in the process. He smiled at the thought.

“As have I,” Nick replied with achuckle. Sole was glad to see them getting along. Maybe they could all be goodfriends.

Piper: “Oh!And you’re the amazing writer that publishes the paper!” Nick exclaimed as heshook Piper’s hand. She nodded with a smile, turning a dark shade of red. Shewas glad someone had noticed the effort she put into writing every newaddition.

“Aw- uh -  thanks I don’t know what to say,” Piperstuttered hiding her face in her left palm. He couldn’t believe how sweet andflattering he was being, she could see why Sole had fallen for him way backwhen.

“It’s glad to see Sole is well takencare of by you,” he winked at Piper and she hid further into her hand makingSole laugh. He’d always been a bit of a flirt. He turned back to Sole. “Friends?”he asked and Sole nodded.

“Always. Thanks Nate.”

Preston: Prestonwas ecstatic to meet the man that Sole often spoke of. He’d heard great thingsabout his service in the war and the dedication he had towards Sole and littleShaun. He had no doubt that the three of them would get on like a house onfire.

“Preston Garvey,” He announced with abright smile, gripping Nate’s hand in a firm but friendly handshake. Natesmiled back. “I’m with the Minutemen, Sole here has been a true and firmbeliever in our cause and I couldn’t be happier to have met her.” Prestonreached his arm around Sole and gave her a quick squeeze. She looked down as hercheeks burned a rosy pink.

“That’s wonderful news,” Nate raisedhis eyebrows. “I had no idea the effect she’d had. I hope you wouldn’t mind if Ijoined up?”

“It would be great to have you on ourside.” Preston couldn’t believe his ears. As if the past couple of months couldn’tget any better. “I’ll show you around.”

X6-88:X6 couldn’t believe he was meeting the father of Shaun, the other half of hisleader. He was excited, although he didn’t show it on his face. He reachedforward and energetically shook Nate’s hand. He never thought he’d see the day.

“Meeting the other parent of Father.”X6 couldn’t believe it and he couldn’t be happier. “It’s an honour sir,” heshook Nate’s hand. “I also understand if you want me out of the picture. Soleis your wife after all.”

“That isn’t the case at all. If Sole hadmoved on and is happy,” he sighed. “Then I’m happy too.” He looked over atSole, noticing the smile on her face as she looked over at X6. “As long as you treather right.”

“I plan on doing so sir.” X6 glancedover at Sole. “I love her more than anything.”

“That’s all I needed to hear. I wishyou all the best.”  

[toglidethroughlife]

Borrowed Pens and Promises (A Choices Fanfic)

Pairing: Grayson x F!MC (Lena)

Summary: A memory from their university days replays in Lena’s head on the day of Silas’ takeover.

A/N: Hey! So this is just a little something I wrote to ease myself into writing my MC for my Grayson playthrough... and I had a little too much fun with the banter? LOL. Also, I wrote this in parts so I’m not actually sure how cohesive this is, but anyway, it’s here and I’ll probs just edit later. Hopefully it’s not too bad lol

Shit.

Lena scrambles through her bag, fingers digging through countless notes, packets of gum, and one too many tubes of chapstick -- but not a single pen in sight.

"You have 45 minutes," the professor announces. "Good luck."

Her midterm exam booklet stares at her hauntingly, the minutes ticking away.

Shit, she curses repeatedly in her head, her hand running through her hair.

The professor is busy typing away on his laptop, the rest of the class busy with their exams, heads hunched over their tables.

Can she really be that girl, she thinks -- the stupid one who forgets to bring a pen to her midterm and asks the professor if she can borrow one.

God, this is embarrassing.

She panics when she realizes she's eaten up 15 minutes of her time debating over whether or not to stand and decides to just go for it -- when she hears something hitting the floor beside her, the professor glancing up her way.

She looks down to find a pen by her feet.

"Dropped my pen," she mouths to the professor with a sheepish smile, crouching down to pick it up.

The professor goes back to ignoring her.

She examines the pen for a quick second, not recognizing it as hers. She steals a glance at the people beside her -- and they're all busy and stressed-looking, as they should be -- all except one.

He was sitting two seats down her right, smirking casually as he answers his exam, the slight crinkle around his eyes showing his amusement.

She makes a mental note to catch him after the exam, turning immediately to her booklet when she notices the time.

25 minutes. Shit.

---

The professor signals the end of the session and people begin to stand to submit their booklets.

Lena's still finishing the last few sentences of her essay when she catches her blond haired friend standing from the corner of her eye, and she immediately scribbles the rest of her closing argument, hopeful that it still made sense.

She's almost running as she walks down the classroom to submit her paper, her eyes trained on the back of his head.

"Hey!" she calls out when she reaches the doorway, grateful that he comes to a stop.

The light from the window hits him just right as he turns around, his eyes locked on hers.

Wow, those eyes are blue, she thinks, mesmerized.

She mentally slaps herself before she stares too much -- she feels like she already has -- and pulls out the pen from her pocket.

"This is yours, I believe."

The statement comes out as more of a question though, her eyes gaging his reaction.

He smiles.

"Yes," he says, taking the pen from her hand. "Were you able to finish the exam?"

Something about his easy tone and friendly demeanor made her want to smile as well.

"Barely," she chuckles, unsure why she was doing so, "but yes. Thank you, you are a lifesaver."

And she didn't think it was possible for his smile to grow bigger, but there he was, beaming at her.

"I'm glad." He shifts around nervously before meeting her eyes again. "Well, I'll see you around."

And he's already walked a few steps away when something in her gut kicks in, her feet taking her forward.

"Hey!" she calls again, catching up to his side. "Are you doing anything right now? I feel obligated to thank my knight in shining armor with a cup of coffee. I mean, if he'd like one, that is."

He chuckles softly, considering her offer. 

"Obligated?" he asks, his tone tentative.

"I want to," Lena affirms, grinning.

He seems to relax after that, returning her smile.

"Okay. Sure."

"Great!" She extends her hand out to him. "I'm Lena, by the way."

His hand is warm as they touch. "Grayson."

---

It becomes a thing that they share more often when finals approach — coffee sessions turned study dates.

Lena's scribbling furiously with another pen she’s borrowed from Grayson — she swears Poppy stole the one she keeps in her bag. They were answering the mock exam together with the intention of comparing notes after.

Lena runs a hand through her hair, flipping her part as she grows more frustrated at the equations in front of her.

"I hate this!" she groans, crossing out her answer with decided pressure, the paper almost tearing under her pen. She leans back on her seat to find Grayson jotting down notes across her, the beginnings of a smile on his lips.

Lena bites back the urge to roll her eyes.

“Okay,” she sings. “You were right, I was wrong. I should’ve studied more before doing the mock exam.” Taking another glance at her now messed up pad paper, she adds, “this stuff is hard!”

Grayson smiles, looking up from his notes. “I never said you couldn’t do it… but, you know, it never hurts to actually study before taking the mock exam.”

He throws her a knowing look and they laugh good-naturedly, her mind not missing how easy this feels, how easy being around him always feels.

They settle into a productive pace right after, exchanging notes, sharing thoughts. It’s not long before Lena’s finished going through the mock exam, a triumphant grin on her lips.

“I. Am. Done!” she announces, stretching her arms over her head.

Grayson gives her a quick smile before looking back at his paper, his hand busy at work.

He's always so calm, she thinks. It’s almost relaxing just watching him.

She loves little moments like these — when Grayson’s too engrossed in what he’s doing to give her the time of day — and she knows she sounds crazy thinking that, but she just enjoys watching him so passionate about his work, and she knows, she just knows — he’s going to do something spectacular someday.

In the meantime though, she would really like her friend to give her some attention.

“What are you even working on?” she asks, her hand already slipping across to steal the notepad he was writing on.

Grayson opens his mouth to protest but no words come out and he resigns onto his seat.

“Uh… I know you like to put in extra work, Gray,” Lena begins, brows furrowed in confusion as she reads the contents of his note. “But this topic is like... two semesters ago — AKA not gonna be on this week's final?"

Grayson can't help but laugh as he throws her an accusatory look, taking the notepad from her hands. "I know that. But the poor guy who borrowed this book from the library needs to know how to get the price at equilibrium and I figured it wouldn't hurt to help."

She watches him tuck his answer between the sheets of the borrowed textbook, placing it right beside the large question marks and "WTF"s the last person who had borrowed the book had inconsiderably left.

She smiles.

"Always gotta be the hero, huh, blue?"

He lifts an eyebrow in question — whether at the nickname or the comment she's not entirely sure. 

Recognition hits him when she raises his pen to eye level — the one he lent her.

The one he keeps lending her.

They laugh.

"I really should just give that pen to you at this point," he tells her.

Lena beams in agreement. "You really should."

Their laughter fades comfortably, their eyes locked on each other.

"But really, Gray. Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being you."

Grayson's gaze holds hers as a smile slowly grows on his lips.

Lena reaches over to touch his hand.

"Thank you for being incredibly kind and generous. And for helping strangers who might not always deserve it."

Grayson leans in from his seat and flips his hand to give hers a gentle squeeze. "You're welcome."

She squeezes his hand back.

"Besides, you haven't given me reason to regret it yet. I mean, I do kind of like you."

Lena bites her lip to contain her smile.

"You kind of like me?"

Grayson looks like he's about to say more, but she isn't sure she's ready to hear it, so she deflects, adding to her statement with an easy smile. "I better not do anything to make you hate me then. We've still got finals after all. I might still need a pen."

He lets out a dejected laugh but a patient smile still paints his lips. "I don't think I could ever hate you."

Her heart warms at the sincerity in his voice.

"But that doesn't mean I'm always going to lend you my pen!"

He pulls the pen from her grasp and she gasps at him mockingly.

"How dare you, Grayson Prescott! Give that back!"

The rest of the afternoon is filled with more coffee, mathematical equations, and easy laughter.

And she doesn't know why this memory replays in her mind as she watches Silas Prescott walk onto the stage at the mayor's assembly years later, her team — Talos and Minuet — ready to fight by her side.

Everything that happens after goes by in a flash, her superhero instincts kicking in, sentimental thought thrown to the side.

It isn't until she catches him in the crowd again — sees the pained expression on his face, the confusion in his eyes — that she remembers, years of friendship weighing on her heart.

"Grayson," she calls him out of instinct, not caring for much else at the moment. "Look I know this is crazy, but I need your help."

"Anything!" he immediately offers, his eyes worried. "I... I have to make up for what my father’s—“

"I know," she cuts in, her voice a gentle plea for him not to blame himself. “Go help DA Katsaros get these civilians to safety. Can you do that for me?"

And you, she thinks. Stay safe too.

The determination in his eyes doesn't surprise her, her faith in him strong.

"I'm on it," he tells her. "I won't let you down!"

Lena's about to fly off when he speaks again, his voice coming out softer. "And... I'm sorry."

But she doesn't let him elaborate any further, understanding him completely.

"I'm sorry, too."

A reluctant smile plays on her lips. 

"See you around, blue."

And moments pass before she hears his voice again, her body already meters up in the air.

"Lena?! Lena!"

But she can't turn back now, her heart holding onto a promise he made her in that quaint coffee shop a few years back, between textbooks and equations, borrowed pens and promises of tomorrows. 

Please. Don't hate me just yet.