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lacontroller1991 · 6 months ago

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Lead the Way (RJ MacCready x F!Reader)

Main Master List || Misc Master List

Author's Note: Posted on A03 as well. It was really a matter of time before I posted a fanfic for him or Valentine. Am I taking requests for MacCready? "You're damn right!"

Warnings: 18+, Gun Violence, Canon Typical Violence, Language, Like 3 sexual comments, Drinking, Mention of Drug Use (Uh Hancock, nuff said), MacCready being the dumbass that he is

Word Count: 3.1k

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The first time MacCready crosses paths with her it’s between buildings in what was formerly Downtown Boston, with him narrowly dodging stray bullets while she takes down raiders left and right. Ducking behind a wall, he tries to take a peek at her face, but it’s obscured by a mask that blends in with the rest of her ammo clad armor. In fact, the only way MacCready can really decipher that the shooter is a female is the smaller, slender frame and the slight protuberance in the chest area.

Normally, MacCready isn’t the one to shy away from a firefight, but from his standpoint, it’s not his barrel, not his monkeys. He also has a kid to provide for and getting himself into trouble for no reason isn’t a great method of survival.

Crouched down on himself, his crystal blue eyes watch the way the unnamed figure easily dodges bullets, taking down raider after raider. He has to admit, for a lone shooter, she sure knows what to do.

With the gun smoke settling, MacCready moves out from his spot behind the wall, standing 30 paces away from the stranger.

“You gonna try your luck or you gonna walk away?” Her voice is modulated by the mask and sounds distant while she crouches over the dead bodies, picking random objects from their pockets, causing MacCready to scoff.

“Why waste your time with sh-junk like that?” The figure stands to her full height, adjusting her bandolier across her chest. Hopping off of the platform, she reaches for her rifle and slings it along her back.

“Maybe next time I get to see you actually fight.” Her comment is sharp off her tongue and it takes MacCready by shock. Nodding to MacCready, she takes her leave, leaving him in his thoughts. Who is she?

MacCready’s legs burn as they race up the ever winding stairs. He needs to get a good vantage point. His target is making their way through the Commonwealth way faster than his lead had originally planned. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

His rifle slings from his shoulders into his hands as he gets a clearing. High enough for a good vantage point, low enough for his target to not escape his scope. He needs the caps more than anything, and his client, well, is paying a hefty sum. Enough to hire some help with Med-Tek.

His fingers fiddle with the setting on his scope, focusing the hairline on the oblivious target, walking in the middle of the road, in broad daylight. MacCready scoffs. “Idiot.” Before his index finger even brushes the trigger, a resounding static crackle echoes off the destroyed buildings and his target falls into a heap on the ground, unmoving. MacCready jerks away from his gun in disbelief. His one chance of caps, gone. Now who’s going to hire him? “MOTHER FU- UGH!” His eye peers through the scope and settles on a hooded figure, dragging his target through a valley. Taking a deep breath, he narrows his eyesight, trying to make out any telltale signs about the second, unwanted party. The only thing he can make out is the all black attire and a mask hanging from the belt. Wait. “That bitch!”

Grumbling as he gets up, MacCready dusts off his pants before grabbing his rifle with a scowl. What is he going to tell his employers? Sorry boss, someone else killed him before I could even get my finger on the trigger. He kicks the ground beneath him, bringing up a plume of dirt and dust as his mood sours by the second. He needed that money. If she starts picking off more of his targets he might just have to take matters into his own hands and get rid of the competition. Can’t have two mercenaries in the Commonwealth.

“I need a drink.”

----------

Magnolia’s singsong voice echoes throughout the repurposed subway station as MacCready downs another round of whiskey. He should be saving what little caps he has, but his mood demands alcohol, even if it’s not the best idea.

“You better have enough caps to pay up Mac. You know what he will say if you leave your tab open,” Charlie comments, filling up MacCready’s glass while he scowls.

“Yeah yeah,” MacCready dismisses the robot abruptly, swirling the glass in his hand, ignoring the person sitting down next to him.

“Bourbon, neat.”

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. What are you doing in a place like this, lass?” MacCready peeks at the person beside him from the corners of his eyes and nearly chokes on his drink. A woman, a gorgeous woman, sitting next to him. He can’t recall the last time he saw a woman that clean with straight white teeth and washed hair.

She takes the glass from the Mr. Handy and raises the glass to her mouth, parting her perfect, plump lips. Hell, maybe MacCready drank way more than he should and is imagining things. “Hello to you too, Charlie. It’s been a while.” MacCready can’t help but to tilt his head as he tries to get a wrap around her voice. Why does it sound so familiar? She takes a sip of the amber liquid and MacCready watches the way her head slightly tips back, accentuating her smooth neck and damn he wants to place his lips on it. Turning fully in his seat, he looks at the bar patron drinking in the sight of her jacket wrapped around her waist, revealing a clean, white tank top that left something to the imagination. His mouth dries in response but she doesn’t make a move to acknowledge him.

“Well, well, well, look who it is.” A familiar voice to MacCready joins in on the conversation, leaning against the bar on the other side of the stranger. “What are you doing in Goodneighbor sunshine?” The merc watches the woman on his left down the rest of her drink before smiling at the mayor.

Charlie refills her glass while she gets down from her seat, wrapping her arms around the ghoul. “John. So good to see you.” Hancock immediately hugs back, hand creeping lower on her back before giving her butt a small grab much to MacCready’s shock. Sure, Hancock has always been flirtatious, but he doesn’t think that he’s ever seen him openly grope a person outside of sexual situations. The hug lasts for another second or two before they pull away, resuming their positions at the bar while Robert watches, drink in hand forgotten.

“You didn’t answer my question, doll. What brings you around to these parts? Last I heard, you went out west.”

“I did, ran into some NCR soldiers, blew some shit up, hunted down some people. Was good fun, but I heard some rumors that the Commonwealth has an uptick in jobs, so here I am.”

Hancock’s black eyes gaze her over, licking his lips while MacCready scoffs. “So here you are. Had any luck?”

“Yep, took care of a bounty earlier today. If bounties like that keep coming in, I might make the Commonwealth my home.” Mac’s blood freezes as it all sets in. She’s a bounty hunter. She’s the one he saw taking out the raiders. She’s the one who caused him to lose his job. She stole his kill. He can’t believe this! He oughta draw out his gun and blow a hole in her head. The sound of glass shattering brings the whole bar into silence, drawing MacCready out of his rage only to look around for the source of the shattered glass.

“What’s wrong with you Mac? That was a perfectly good glass!” Hancock chastises, grabbing a towel from behind the bar and moving towards the merc. It wasn’t until Hancock put the towel on his hand that he noticed that he was the one who shattered the glass and was bleeding.

Charlie’s motors whir in annoyance as he brings out a broom and dustpan, sweeping up the shards off the floor but all Mac can see is the woman right in front of him, confusion written on her face. “That’s going onto your tab!”

“What was that about Mac?”

“You stole my kill.” He points an accusing finger in her face as her eyes narrow.

“I didn’t steal shit. There was a bounty. Game is game."

“No. I was paid to take him out and you stole that from me.” She scoffs as Hancock backs away, eyeing the two people.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been slow. Maybe then you would have your pile of caps, merc.”

“Woah woah, I don’t need more blood spilt in my bar. Why don’t you two take this outside.” MacCready rolls his eyes as the rest of the bar watches on in anticipation. Why should he have to leave because of some stupid girl.

Scoffing, he slams some caps onto the table. “Whatever. Good luck trying to get the next one.” With not another word said, he leaves the bar, hellbent on beating the stranger at her own game.

----------

He doesn’t know who or why she continuously gets bounty after bounty, but it’s well past the point of him being nice. He’s 0 for 7 and if he doesn’t get one soon he might actually kill her in cold blood. It doesn’t help either that anytime he sees her all he can think about is slamming her against a wall and shoving his dick in her mouth to wipe that smirk off of her fuc-freaking perfect face.

“Face it Blamco, you’re just too slow. You’re not as good as me,” she comments from beside him at the bar, glass of bourbon in her hand as he scowls.

“Oh wow, you came up with another name. Good for you.” This is how it’s been. Trying to beat each other to a bounty, her eventually winning, him coming to the Third Rail, her following and gloating, him drinking, her teasing him, him scowling more before eventually leaving. Then it repeats.

“Have you ever thought that maybe this isn’t the line of work for you? Maybe you should do something simple, like farming.” Ok, now he’s livid.

“Why don’t you just shut the hell up and leave me the hell alone.” It comes out more soft and depressing than he was hoping for. He was wanting it to sound angry, to be intimidating, but the softening of her facial features tells him that it had the opposite effect.

“Damn MacCready. What’s got you down in the dump? I’m just teasing you.” She places a tender hand on his upper bicep and he can’t deny how nice the contact felt, but he shoves it off, standing up and towering over her.

“I’m sick of you and your stupid teasing. You don’t know how much I need those caps. You’re so selfish, taking all those bounties. Maybe leave some for other people. Why don’t you go back out west where you belong. And God, you’re so annoying. I don’t know whether I should shoot you in the mouth or kiss you just so you would shut the hell up!” She closes her mouth, brows bunched together in thought. MacCready scoffs, downing his watered down whiskey. “What. Don’t you have anything to say now?”

“You’re such a fucking dick Robert. You don’t know shit.” She sets a bag down on the counter and he can tell it’s full of caps. He watches as she turns to Charlie who hovers ever so slightly, eagerly listening in on the conversation. “When he isn’t throwing a temper tantrum, give him the package.”

“Sure thing Miss (Name).”

“Oh and put his bill on mine. It’s covered.”

“Will do ma’am.” She doesn’t spare him another glance before grabbing her stuff and setting off, leaving the pile of caps on the counter.

“Is she actually just leaving that?”

“She left it for you, wanker. Honestly, your behavior as of late is unsavory. No wonder why you have had no clients.” He floats away for a second before retrieving a box and setting it down in front of the former gunner. “Now are you going to grow up or am I going to have to leave this with me until you fix yourself.” Mac’s curiosity of what lies in the box automatically shifts his mood to tolerable. Removing the lid of the box, his breath catches in his throat. Inside the brown box lies a red syringe with the words “Med Tek: Prevent” printed in white.

“Is this what I think it is?” His heart races as he picks up the syringe. This can’t be it. Can it?

“Miss (Name) went there the other day with Mr. Hancock. Took out the whole subunit of ghouls to bring you this. I do hope you reconsider your abrasive words.” How the hell was he supposed to know that she went to Med Tek to get this cure? How the hell was he supposed to know that she knew he was looking for this?

“Who told her about Duncan?”

“I imagine the same person who went with her.” Hancock. He should’ve known. Grabbing the syringe and the pile of caps, he races up the stairs and out of the building, running right into one of the people he wanted to see.

“Slow your roll MacCready. What’s got ants in your pants?” Hancock’s cool tone questions him as MacCready pockets the syringe, his hands itching in nerves.

“I want to kick your ass so hard, but first, why the hell would you tell her about Duncan, let alone Duncan’s disease? You know damn well that that is none of her business! I trusted you to keep that between us, not to tell some random ass stranger who just happens to be good with a gun. Second, where the hell did she go? I need to give her a piece of my mind.” MacCready makes a move to brush past Hancock, but Hancock is physically stronger and stops the young man in his tracks.

“One, she asked why you needed the caps so bad since you were being a bad sport about a kill and I had one too many hits of jet. Two, good luck finding her. You can be a dick when you’re drinking and pissed off.”

“I had every-”

“Every right to, yeah yeah, but still. She has a heart of gold and maybe if you didn’t have a fire lit up your ass, you would’ve known that.” MacCready calms down in Hancock’s grip, letting the ghoul loosen his hands. “I don’t know where she went, but I bet she doesn’t want to be found. Sunshine is one of those people who if you seriously piss off or hurt, they like to lick their wounds in private.”

“Why would she care what I said? She doesn’t like me.”

“I forget how naive you are, kid. A girl like that doesn’t just hang around people to hang around people. She obviously digs you. Gives her some… competition.” Robert scoffs.

“As if she needs any, she’s too damn good on her own.” Hancock shrugs, wrapping an arm around his friend’s shoulders, walking him over to Daisy’s shop.

“If you manage to find her, let her know how you feel.”

“I don’t-”

“Mac, yes you do. You like the competition too, and you know it. Now get this cure to Duncan.” Hancock slaps him on the back forcing MacCready forward, hand in pocket.

“Hey Daisy.”

“Hello RJ, whatcha got for me today?”

“I got the cure.”

----------

It took MacCready a solid month to track her down. Whenever he would get to where she was, she was already gone. Despite wanting to give up and get back to work, he couldn’t drop the nagging feeling in the back of his mind. If anything, he wanted to thank her for getting the cure for his son, but he can’t deny how lonely the past month has been without her presence.

The gates to Diamond City stand tall in front of him as his stomach tangles in knots. She should be here, he thinks to himself, hoping Hancock’s information is correct. What is he even going to do once he finds her? What is he going to say?

Nodding to the guard, he walks through the entrance to the baseball stadium where the city rests before him. “Well, now or never.” Taking a deep breath, he inhales the smell of Takahashi’s ramen and it makes his mouth water. “What’s a few more minutes?” Sitting down at the makeshift bar, MacCready absentmindedly sticks his hand in his pocket and runs his calloused fingers over the pile of caps. Once she had left and he had delivered the cure to Daisy, Mac counted the caps in the pouch she had left on the bar and couldn’t believe that she would leave that much. It was around 800 caps, which was practically the amount he could’ve gotten had she not collected the bounties before him. “What’s up Taka? Set me up with some of your shima… uh… whatever they’re called.”

“Nan-ni shimasho-ka?”

“Yeah, yeah! That’s the stuff.”

“Nan-ni shimasho-ka?”

“You’re damn right I’ll take two servings!” The robot sets the noodles down in front of him as he lets out a groan. Maybe he’s more hungry than he thought. Digging into the noodles, the real purpose he came to Diamond City slips his mind. Until it’s right across from him, oblivious to his eyes. Slurping down the last bit of noodles, MacCready wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before setting a few caps down, quickly hopping off the stool and rushing towards her.

Skidding to a halt, he stops a few feet behind her, his blue eyes piercing her back. “Took you long enough to find me Macaroni. Are you always going to stand behind me?” That’s it. MacCready huffs out in frustration, taking large steps towards her as she turns around, a soft smile on her gorgeous face. “Still getting upset over nicknames?”

“Just shut the hell up.” He takes her face between his hands and brings his lips down to hers, the force of the kiss causing her to stumble back, dragging him with her. Needing air, MacCready pulls away, a string of saliva connecting them to each other as he rests his forehead against hers as they catch their breaths, ignoring the way people are looking at them. “Got anything to say now?”

“Kiss me again you idiot.” He doesn’t hesitate as his arms snake around her waist, holding her close to his body while her arms wrap around his neck, fingers tugging at the ends of his hair. “Why don’t we go somewhere more private?”

MacCready chuckles, his hand moving lower and lower on her back before resting on the swell of her butt. “Lead the way.”

#rj maccready #Robert maccready #robert joseph maccready #maccready #maccready x reader #reader insert #female reader #fallout 4 #rj MacCready x reader #Robert MacCready x reader #john hancock #hancock fo4 #fallout 4 companions #bethesda

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drunkintergalacticemotions · 7 months ago

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A list of hints in my rancher Among Us fic

last year I wrote a team rancher among us fic, in which the fact that it was an among us au was a twist near the end, but there were plenty of hints along the way!

I figure its been long enough now I can make a comprehensive list of all the hints I snuck in. If you'd like to read the fic first, and see how many you can find on your own, its right here

probably the most obvious one, the ship they are on is called The Skeld (aka, one of the maps in Among Us) I was hoping anyone who recognized it off the bat would assume it was just a silly reference, and I was right!

Right off the bat in chapter 1 Tango mentions going out in a space suit not being the "real space experience". I headcanon imposters can survive for at least a short time out in space, as its probably how they got onto ships and such if they didn't board at ports.

“Well you already know I’m Tango, Tango Tek, engineering officer.” he introduced with the last name he’d picked at 12 and been stuck with since. <- more of a hint that he's hiding something / not being truthful but I say it counts

"In return, Tango told him the safe parts of his past to share." <- another hint Tango is hiding things.

"Tango was usually put on those duties, because on paper he liked small spaces, and always seemed to get the job done faster than anyone else." <- considering imposters can go through vents crew members cant i say its safe to say they can shapeshift themselves smaller, which means tango can take more direct routes.

"The area was less lit than the rest of the ship, not that that mattered to Tango." <- Imposter have night vision, this is the first hint to that.

"They’d arrived at a small opening in the wall, a hole several feet across and several more tall labelled E-2M. It was a short one, with a vent that ran along up top going directly from the electrical hub room to the med bay." <- the skeld map in among us has a vent that goes between electrical and the med bay. heehee

“Making an example out of you,” a shudder went down Tango’s spine, memories of other examples he’d seen floating by his kind. <- no way Tango hasn't seen/heard what's happening to other imposters out there who get caught

Jimmy mentions, in the evacuation scene, that he went towards the cafeteria but had to detour, and is by administration. The admin room is right next to the cafeteria on the among us skeld map.

Jimmy mentions, several times, how dark it is and how hard it is to see, yet from Tango's POV we get a near perfect description of the large cafeteria. Imposter night vision<3

Tango spots Jimmy long before Jimmy is able to see Tango, another hint to the imposter night vision

Tango spots Xisuma long before Jimmy, another hint to the imposter night vision.

"He stretched his arm out, he stretched it as far it could humanly go, and then stretched it further, right between the blast doors." <- this is one of the most obvious hints, referencing Imposter shape shifting abilities, and is meant to start cluing in the audience that something is up.

Their rescue vessel is called The Airship, another Among Us map

and then, of course, Tango's panic at the diagnostic scan.

After this, the reveal happens, and there's no more subtle hints. Hope y'all enjoyed this deep dive into my fic. If you liked, consider leaving a comment on the fic, I'd really appreciate it!

#Team rancher #Jimmy solidarity #Tangotek #Hermitcraft #Life series #Double life #Double life AU #Team rancher AU #Among us #Among us AU #Mcyt #Minecraft #Solidarity gaming

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unrepentantweirdo · 7 months ago

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Robert Joseph MacCready Headcanons and Birth Chart- Part One!

Hello everyone! It's time for what has been months in the making. I promised to give you my MacCready headcanons and his astrological birth chart, and today I'm delivering. (Partly because y'all are going to hate me when I post the next chapter of Defenders At The Crossroads (DATC), because it's going to be sad angsty RJ hours.)

Part one is going to be the headcanons I have so far. So without further ado, let's get to it!

Full name: Robert Joseph MacCready Born: April 4, 2265, around 8:35 a.m., Capital Wasteland (Aries sun, Scorpio moon, Taurus ascending; will be explained in one of the next parts.) Hair color: Light brown Eye color: Blue, kind of like this- https://www.pinterest.com/pin/eyes--375839531382357679/ Height: 5' 8.5" (173 cm) Build: Lean and wiry. Muscular arms and legs from all the walking and carrying he has to do. After starting to travel with Cassie, he develops a bit more muscle and gains a little weight, since he's able to eat properly. * Like atombonniebaby, I HC that Mac is of Scottish descent, but I think he also has a bit of Irish thrown in there. * Has plenty of scars across his body from his adventures in the wastes. Couple of bullet wounds from a sentry bot, some cuts here and there. * He has decent posture, only slouches when he sits sometimes. * Is attached to his current clothing, but especially the duster and hat. Both were gifts from Lucy. That's why it hurt when the sleeve got torn off by ferals during his first attempt to clear Med-Tek. * As an adult, his temper only comes out when someone is disrespecting him, someone is abusing their power, or someone is harming kids or loved ones. * Prefers to bluff his way out of confrontation, because Duncan needs him. But he isn't afraid to get down and dirty and fight. * Is actually a bit allergic to dust. Cassie ends up giving him a bandana (that isn't Gunner) for when they explore old buildings. * While he hates being wet (because wet=cold), he likes warm showers and baths. He'd be a shower hog, I think. * He has a few missing teeth, the ones that are left are a little messed up (cavities, crooked). When they start bothering him a lot, Cassie drags him to Vault 81 to get them fixed. She stays with him and holds his hand, even when they knock him out. * His best friend was Lucy, both growing up and as an adult. Yes, I HC that Little Lamplight Lucy is his Lucy, and I will die on that hill. * Him and Lucy went on a trip to the Commonwealth shortly after they reunited. It was there that they got married, and where they found out Lucy was expecting Duncan. * He has PTSD. Usually manifests in night terrors of Lucy's death, sometimes panics when surprised by ferals. On really bad days, he's crying when he wakes up. * Carries a lot of guilt. Not telling Lucy the truth about being a mercenary, him not being able to save her, Duncan getting sick. So much guilt. * Slightly afraid of thunderstorms and being in open spaces. * Hates staying in one place for too long, loves to travel. * Is abrasive and hardened toward others, but for his loved ones he's soft and affectionate. * Smells like gun oil, leather, and a hint of cigarettes. Whiskey if he's drinking, and gunpowder after a firefight. * Super observant, whether it's looking through a scope or reading people up close. (He's not as good as Deacon with the latter, but that's mostly because of age and experience.) * He's touch-starved. Other than Duncan, he hasn't had close contact with anyone since Lucy died. * He loves homemade gifts. * Love languages: physical touch, quality time, acts of service; both giving and receiving. * When it comes to flirting, he's pretty smooth. But when Cassie flirts back, he turns into a blushing, stuttery mess. Over time, it just becomes blushing. * When he first starts having feelings towards Cassie, he panics and feels like he's betraying Lucy. Hancock and Daisy are the ones that help bring him around, as well as a near-death experience. * Worries about Cassie more the closer they get, as she is a close to mid-range fighter. It eases some when he teaches her how to snipe. * Mentally swears almost all the time; it's why he almost slips up so often. * He likes to draw, whether it's silly doodles in his letters to Duncan or drawing things he likes. * Loves to read to Duncan (and any kids he and Cassie might have, so far I have one planned for sure).

PART TWO (MORE HEADCANONS!)

PART THREE (THE BIRTH CHART THAT NAILED HIM!)

#fallout 4 #fo4 #fo4 maccready #maccready #rj maccready #robert joseph maccready #fallout 4 maccready

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blacklesbothatlovestowrite · 1 year ago

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Familiar Pt. 2

CHAPTER SONG: Good Pussy Problems - Jada Kingdom

Tag list: @lppriceisright @callmewifey @briacreations96 @ilovelulu @doramilaj233 @littlebizcuit @ziayamikaelson @andibecamethestars @6-noir @s0lam33y @briacreations96 blacknthick7

"Jay, betta yuh did put seh yuh waan ah fiftee percent fih yuh royalties dem." (Better you did put that you want fifty percent of your royalties) Dom ran his fingers over his face, you'd both been in his living room going over the proposed contract N'Jadaka's assistant had sent.

"Mi know weh mi ah do. If mi tek a bigga cut dem nah guh waan me fih own mi masters dem." (I know what I am doing, If I take a bigger cut they won't want me to own my masters) You respond.

"Jah, yuh really ah guh tek twenty five percent fih now doh?" (You're really going to take twenty five percent for now though?) Dom hisses his teeth and you shake your head.

"Yes, Domingo." You roll your eyes, sighing in frustration. He couldn't see the bigger picture. If I owned my masters, later on I could sell my catalog for way more. "Mi haav mi yiy dem pon eh goal. Mi know weh mi ah guh do." (I have my eyes on the goal, I know what I'm going to do.)

"Wah bout yer name and merch rights?" (What about your name and merch rights) He asks, raising a brow. "It seh dem waan gi yuh twenty percent wah di rassclaat kinda deal is dat?" (It says they want to give you twenty percent what the fuck kind of deal is that?)

"I'd own my name, and be able to get 40% of the tour profits." You explain. Owning your masters and your name was the way to make money. You could get brand deals that were 100% all yours by owning your name and as far as your master's, you could sell your catalog to the highest bidder later on.

"Ah. Is yer money, mi nah guh three meds it." (It's your money, I'm not going to stress about it.) He says, handing you back your iPad.

You finished all your adjustments before sending the email back. You'd spent the two days given to read over every fine print before adding that You'd own your masters and name. You were smart, your grandma raised you. She taught you about looking out for yourself and your little brother. She'd taught you about hoe ruthless and wicked people could be over money.

You'd come from nothing and did everything you could to ensure you never were in that position again financially. You still had a long way to go before you were happy with your finances but for now you were comfortable.

"Mi ah come guh mi yaad." (I'm going to my house) You say, hugging Dom before grabbing your stuff and heading out.

"The sound already has 15,000 videos under it." Shuri says, as you gather your things. You'd just signed to their label, after they'd agreed with your terms for the contract.

ShuriUuu and 983,201 others liked.

UdakuRecords Welcome @Twinkle to the Udaku Family <3

RiriWi Real music, Real Girl #IDG1F

ShuriUuu They're not ready for you yet #idg1f

NjadakaU Pretty girl love money #idg1f

RamondaUdaku Welcome to the Family, can't wait to meet you.

DestinYyy How cute

The label posted a picture with you in the studio today, doing vocals for the track. The picture had went viral, several blogs and news stations picked up the story of you signing onto Udaku Records. N'Jadaka had you scheduled to do several interviews that would be released Thursday in time for the songs drop on Friday. It was Monday.

Tomorrow, and Wednesday was going to be packed. You had the interviews, and a photoshoot that all needed to be up by Thursday. They planned to break the internet Thursday before dropping your song.

So far the song was on Tiktok, Instagram reels and Youtube shorts. People were already singing the few lyrics and posting themselves to the trending song. You made several alluring videos with your best friend/hairstylist Azura filming you. Your hair had changed several times in the span of a weekend.

You'd went to your condo, where Azura filmed you in a bathing suit as you posed and made faces at the camera. Once you'd gotten the video and layered a new snippet of the song, you posted it to your Instagram.

Azuradidollie and 235,012 others liked.

Twinkle Call me what you want #idg1f

RiriWi Damn ma...

ShuriUuu God took his time with you.

Azuradidollie Whew mumma heavy, look how di gyal batty fat ehhhh? Yuh angle, triangle dat.

NJadakaU I wanna call you mine

BadGalRiri @Twinkle Caribbean girls run tings

Spiceofficial Big chuneee

chrisbrownofficial Check your dms mama

ChampagnePapi Ass on houston texas but the face look just like Claire Huxtable.

MayaBee Pretty girl

"Yuh see di amount ah celebrities inna yer comments?" (You see the amount of celebrities in your comments) Azura laughs, as you both ate fried chicken with rice and oxtail gravy.

"I know." You feel your face heat up as you shovel rice into your mouth.

"Wah Maya ah duh inna yer comments? Unnuh neva agree fi nuh comment, like or follow one anudda?" (What's Maya doing in your comments, Haven't Ya'll agreed to not comment, like or follow each other?)

"Yah ask mi? Mi nuh see nor hear from di gyal since Saturday mawning." (You're asking me? I haven't seen or heard from the girl since Saturday morning) You shrugged.

"Da gyal deh sick mi fucking tomach, mi nuh know why yuh ah pree har. She all fi har self." (That girl there sicks my fucking stomach, I don't know why you take her serious. She's all for herself.) Azura kissed her teeth as she drank her sorrel.

"Zur, mi like har. She haav sum bad ways but she's a good person." (I like her. She has some bad ways but she's a good person.) You defend her.

"Tan deh mek har tun yuh inna yamhead. Yuh coming like jelly back. Da gyal deh naav nun bout har. She don't waan yuh win, look how she did diss yuh and yuh let it go." (Stand there and make her turn you into a fool. You're weak. That girl don't have anything about her. 'worthless') Azura declares and you shake your head.

"Not too much on my girl." You cut your eyes at her and she laughs.

"Tan deh wid di likkle badmind gyal." (Stand there with the little jealous girl) Azura sticks her tongue out and you roll your eyes.

"Gweh!" (Move) You joke.

"Nyam mi front and gweh." (Eat my pussy and go away) Azura retorts, rolling her eyes and you laugh.

"Been there, done that." You wink.

A knock on your door, has you up and headed for the door. There's only three people that can come up without the front desk alerting you. One of which is here and the other was out of town. Your face set into a scowl and your nose wrinkled as you opened the door to see Maya.

"What?" You say, looking her up and down in annoyance.

"Baby, I'm sorry." Maya says and you sigh.

"Is this going to be a reoccurring thing? You being in your feelings because I'm pursuing music?" You ask. She'd walked out on Saturday upset when you told her you planned on signing onto Udaku Records. She'd tried to convince you to sign onto her label despite you having told her before it would never happen.

"It's not about the music, Jay..." Maya muttered. "I don't like Rina and it's not just about her dissing my album. She wants you, I saw how she looked at you that night at the club. Hell look at what she and that skinny giraffe are saying in your comments."

Did she really just call Shuri a giraffe? Dis girl...

"Maya, you've got to get over that. People are always going to want me. You think I don't deal with this shit with your label mates and the industry community dicks that are always aimed at you?" You hissed your teeth. "You can either choose to accept the fact that I'm yours and deal with whatever comes or we're going to have to just call it quits from now."

"You'd break up with me?" She whispers, her eyes wide and tears already starting to leak.

"Yes. I wouldn't want to but it's not fair what you're doing, you're punishing me for other people's actions. You were pissed when you hadn't heard from me Friday night but you've ignored me since Saturday morning. That's a double standard that I will not put up with." You insisted, crossing your arms as she cried. You wanted to hold her and wipe her tears away but she couldn't treat you like this and think sorry and some tears would fix things.

"Ok, I understand. I'm sorry for ignoring you and for punishing you." Maya croaked out, her voice low. You nodded.

"I forgive you." You assure her but when she moves to step forward you place your hand on her chest. "You ignored me for 2 days, now it's my turn. Talk to you Wednesday evening."

Her mouth dropped open as you closed the door in her face laughing, you always gave in to her when she acted like a spoiled brat but this time you wouldn't. She needed to tighten up and give you the same energy you gave her when it came to her career, the spotlight and the many people lusting after her.

"Yes goodie... yuh gag har backside." (Yes, beautiful. You gagged her ass) Azura was dying with laughter.

"Yuh seeh yuh..." (You see you) You shook your head before climbing back on the couch to finish your food.

You can apologize with chocolate - You 6:57 pm

Understood baby, I'll see you Wednesday. - Babes 7:00 pm

Wednesday evening. I love you spoiled brat - You 7:03pm

"Hi, Twinkle. It's so good to meet you! I've been obsessed with your song." Nessa says, and you smile at her.

"Thank you for having me." You say.

"So, everyone's dying to know. Who was Which Gyal meant for?" Nessa asks, and you laugh as she butchered the words in a fake patois accent.

"Just a likkle song fi any gyal weh haav mi name inna har mouth. Mi nuh inna di chattings wid people pickney so mi mek eh song fi any gyal weh waan trouble mi or has troubled mi." (Just a little song for any girl that has my name in her mouth. I'm not into the talking with people's kids, so I made the song for any girl who wants to trouble me or has troubled me.) You see she looks lost so you say everything again in english.

"You have a beautiful accent." Nessa compliments and you thank her. "You recently signed on to Udaku Records and have been teasing a song. Idg1f. Can you tell us what inspired the song?"

"Well I had the lyrics in my head and a little melody. I've had so many people come at me crazy because I was in a very public relationship almost 2 years ago. I've said before and I'll stand on it, I love money and anyone who wants to give me money can definitely do it. I'm a pretty girl, I know what I deserve and that's how I've made a living just being pretty." You explained and Nessa raised a brow.

"You were with Chris Brown, no?" Nessa asks coyly, and you roll your eyes playfully.

"Yes, I was. However he's irrelevant now." You reply with a shrug.

"Many people speculated Which Gyal was about Ri, are you and Rihanna cool now?" Nessa asks and I shake my head.

"I barely know her personally. We never had any problems, so I don't know where that narrative came from." You answer, honestly. "I love her, she's so creative and multifaceted. There's nothing but respect for her."

"We all saw Drake and Chris in your comments. How do you feel about that?" Nessa questions.

"No disrespect to Drake but he's too corny for me personally. I can't get with his antics and as far as Chris, well he knows what's up. That's it." You lick your lips.

"Rihanna was also in your comments, giving you a stamp of approval." Nessa continues. "What do you think of that?"

"As I said before, I have the utmost respect for Rihanna. She's an icon, I look up to her. She's paved the way for Caribbean girls and I can only hope that I make her proud." You felt conflicted because while you grew up liking Rihanna, you knew she could be very shady. She'd never spoke on you before besides saying you were a non factor when asked in an interview when you and Chris were dating.

The rest of the interview goes pretty smooth. Towards the end as Nessa's closing out her producer comes over and shows her something on his phone. Nessa looks from the phone to you before nodding at whatever the producer says. He walks off camera and Nessa looks at you again.

"So what do you have to say about Maya posting you on her social media?" Nessa inquires and you stare at her in shock .

"We're cool, so--"

On the screen in between Nessa and I on the wall is Maya's latest post and you blink as you see it.

Kyliebabe and 1,249,865 others liked.

Mayabee I love you, baby. You are my sunshine. @Twinkle

Azuradidollie dutty tinkin gyal, weh di fuck yuh ah post mi bomboclaat fren fah? yuh is ah waste gyal fi tru, only batty bwoy do dem tings deh.

You can't find anything to say as you stare at the screen in shock. She hadn't even discussed this with you before she went ahead and posted that. You were angry beyond words.

"Still cool?" Nessa laughs, and you narrow your eyes at her. You took a deep breath to calm yourself before releasing it.

"No. We're not cool at all." You say, taking the ear piece off and tossing it down before grabbing your bag and walking out.

You had finished the rest of your interviews in autopilot. Your energy was faked, you felt betrayed by Maya. This wasn't the actions of someone who cared about you, this was a calculated move that you were sure was brought on by her label and manager.

All the time spent hiding and keeping you a dirty secret just for her to out your relationship the moment you were finally getting attention on you for the right reasons was sickening. You'd never pressured her or argued when she chose to follow her label and manager's decision to keep your relationship quiet.

You were supportive and you put her career and goals first. Any other time this would have been what you wanted but right now you felt used and like a prop. You blocked her number and blocked her on all your social media's, not caring to hear what she had to say.

Over and over she'd shown time and time again you were not on the list of her priorities. You could argue away most of her bad habits and bad ways but this. There was no excusing this. You couldn't defend it because there was nothing that she could say that would make you feel even remotely ok about any of this.

Today was your photoshoot and you were numbing yourself to the hurt you felt. All the excitement dying down at things that should have been making you happy. You'd never dreamed of being in the position you were in and your joy was being stolen.

"What do you think about this, Jay?" Shuri asks as you, Riri and N'Jadaka are looking over the edits. The picture they all seemed to settle on was sexy yet cutesy. You had a huge bouquet in your arms, while posing in the gold sparkly dress Azura had helped you pick. Your tattoos were showcased in a very peekaboo way whilst the rest of your body was covered.

"It looks good." You agree, your tone giving off a 'whatever' kind of vibe.

"Alright, we'll use it as the cover to idg1f." N'Jadaka says. "It really matches the vibe of the song. Gotta give it to you Shuri, your vision is immaculate."

"It's all dependent on the artist." Shuri shrugged, looking at you with a small smile. You returned it though your smile didn't meet your eyes.

"You've been working your ass off ma." Riri agrees, looking from Shuri to you. "You've been locked in ever since the first day in the studio."

"I'm glad ya'll feel that way." You feel your cheeks warm, and you look down at your hands.

"I have a meeting but I just wanted to stop by and say that you're doing great, Jay." N'Jadaka adds, before reaching over to hug you. He dabs up Shuri and Riri before leaving.

"You hungry, Ma?" Riri inquires, she knew you weren't feeling like yourself. She and Shuri talked amongst themselves about taking you out to cheer you up.

"Afta mi belly naav nuh bottom." (After my belly has no bottom 'greedy') You laugh, before nodding.

"Alright, why don't you get changed and we'll take you out. You deserve to be celebrated. You've signed to our label, your about to release a single that millions are anticipating and you've been kept busy this whole week with promo shit." Shuri asserts, licking her lip. "Pick whatever outfit you want."

🎶 You must be stupid, don't even flirt with me, what you doing mi nuh interested, keep it pushing, come outta mi face and give me some space. You likkle bit too nuff yute don't chat to me, A wha so? Don't make your friend dem gas you, cause this is a brand new moto 🎶

Azuradidollie and 644,431 others liked.

Twinkle You must be stupid, don't even flirt with me, what you doing mi nuh interested, keep it pushing, come outta mi face and give me some space. You likkle bit too nuff yute don't chat to me. #Single #idg1f

Azuradidollie Yes babes, mek di waste gyal know wah gwaan #idg1f

513 comments, 23,491 likes.

ShuriUuu You free fi carry me out #idg1f

985 comments, 67,203 likes.

RiriWi Give me money and buy me stuff #idg1f

678 comments, 52,465 likes.

chrisbrownofficial she like eating pussy, I'm like me too 😉

User Ariana what are you doing here?

1,252 comments, 101,230 likes.

Mayabee Jay, don't play with me.

User Girl go sit down and nurse your heart burn

1,190 comments, 141,234 likes.

Kyliebabe Single but was just fucking on oh.... ok

Azuradidollie @Kyliebabe Ah yuh ah nyam har front?

User Why are you so pressed? your friend caused the drama babes.

791 comments, 62,123 likes.

Shuri and Riri took you shopping to celebrate your newest achievements, before finally taking you to dinner. You'd had the wig taken off your head, and was wearing your hair out in a wavy silk press. Makeup free and natural, save for lipgloss and your lash extensions.

You posted the video Riri recorded of you walking, and twirling and posing to the lyrics of your song that you knew would hit Maya deep in the gut. You put the lyrics in the caption before using the hashtag single to make a statement as you had no interest in her, her label or her manager using you.

You put your phone on DND, as you ate your sushi and pasta. Throughout the dinner, the conversation was light. You all exchanged information about yourselves, favorite colors, music, artists, hobbies, goals, etc.

You found out that Shuri could play several instruments, and write her own music. The latter wasn't a shock as she had tons of writing credits. She wrote songs on the daily just by living and watching, she was beyond talented.

Riri could play the electric guitar, and was amazing at putting together beats. She could hear music in her head as she went about her day, and was always recording a melody that she had stuck in her head. You could see similarities in yourself and the both of them.

"What made you want to co-head the label?" You ask Shuri. Her family's music business venture was years old but you saw a significant change once she and N'Jadaka stepped up to be the new faces of the label.

Riri and Shuri shared a look, before Shuri looked at you. Her jaw was clenched and her body was tense. You could tell there was something there.

"Riri and I are together but at one point we had a third." Shuri explains which is no surprise to you. You figured they were together, everyone speculated but they had never confirmed. "Destiny's an artist on the label, I was only into producing when we got together but when I seen just how shitty a lot of artist's deals were, including hers... I chose to do something about it, it was shortly after my father and brother died that I pushed for N'Jadaka to head the label while I worked beside him. We worked to give our artists better deals than they'd previously had, whilst working to ensure the company was still making money."

"I worked tirelessly to give Destiny everything she wanted, because I saw how stressed she was not having creative control and being forced into the bullshit the label pushed on her. My father and T'Challa agreed that our relationship should be kept quiet as Destiny was a sex symbol and was more profitable and marketable as a single straight woman." Shuri rolls her eyes.

"After the accident, I finally had the chance to change the direction of the company to what I'd had in mind. However, I soon realized Destiny was only using Riri and I. The moment she had a better contract, she left us to be the industry mattress." Shuri laughs to herself.

"Why aren't you and Riri public now?" You ask, curious. They no longer had a reason to keep their relationship silent.

"The gag is we are. We're private not secret. We post each other, we're out and about with each other. We've just never addressed anything because we feel no need to. Everyone knows what's up with us." Riri declares, looking at you with a small smirk.

"That makes sense. Social media can be just as destructive as it is beneficial. Especially to relationships." You agreed.

"I take it you and Maya are no longer friends? " Riri raises a brow as she looks you over.

"No, we are not." You shrug, rolling your eyes at the mention of the girl. Azura was right, and you saw that clear as day.

"So, you're a free agent." Shuri watches you through hooded eyes, as she sips on her bourbon.

"Why do you want to know?" You look at her with a wide smile on your face daring her to be bold.

"Just want confirmation that you're free before we have you coming all night. Not that you being in a relationship would have stopped the pursuit." Shuri's lips turn up as she watches your body flush at her words.

"Yuh think one dinna and ah likkle shopping can lock me dung?" (You think one dinner and a little shopping can lock me down?) You giggle as you sip on your lemon water.

"Definitely not." Riri denies, as she waves over the waiter to clear the table and bring the check.

"However we all know at some point you will be on your back with your legs spread open and your mouth wide as we work your fat pussy over." Shuri says and you clench as her words heat up your core. She used patois to say 'Fat pussy' and that had you feeling hot all over.

"Mmm mmm girl." You shake your head, giggling. "Yuh haffi work fi mi tight ole." (You have to work for my tight hole.)

"So, this is what working looks like. Now it's making sense why you were so pressed to work with Rina." You see Maya approaching behind the duo and your face drops as she opens her mouth.

"What are you even...." Your words fall off as you realize she still had your location on her iPad. You unlock your phone to remove her iPad and block it before locking your phone again. "What do you want?"

"Why the fuck are you out here acting like a whore when you have a whole girlfriend?" Maya exclaims.

"Whore? My girl outta di two ah wi? who ah whore? cuz mi know seh my pussy nuh haav more den 5 bodies pon ih." (My girl, out of the two of us, who's the whore? Cause I know that my pussy has no more than five bodies on it.) You match her tone.

"Mi neva yet disrespect yuh ar mek nubodi disrespect yuh yet, so don't ever innah yer life try diss me ar mi pussy." (I have never disrespected you or let anyone disrespect you so don't ever in your life diss me or my pussy.) You hiss.

"Why are you treating me like this?" Maya starts with her bag of crying and for once you feel nothing as the tears roll down her face. She can't cry and think she'll get her way.

"You called me a whore." You kiss your teeth. "That is not the words of someone who loves me or even cares about me. You'd think with all the slut shaming you and I have both endured, that word would have never left your mouth."

"I'm sorry." Maya cried. "I didn't mean to say that, I was just angry. I love you so much, Jay. I would never purposely hurt you, you know that."

"Disrespecting me and using me as a prop for your career wasn't you hurting me?" You scoffed.

"I didn't." Maya swears and you swallow as you see the look in her eyes. "I swear to you, I did not. My manager made the post on my page, I didn't know until after it happened. I would never use you in that way, you know I wouldn't."

"Maya, I love you." You see both Shuri and Riri share a look out of the corner of your eye but you keep your eyes trained on Maya. "I love you so much that I put you and your wants over my own. I let myself down to lift you up. If I'm being honest I overlooked the shitty things you'd do or say because I was that in love with you. But love should never feel like that, at least not the love I want. You're a good person, I genuinely believe that but you just aren't good enough for me. I deserve more, I deserve better. You've said sorry just about almost every day we've been together and yet you continue doing the same stuff you know hurt me. I'm putting myself first for once, and if that makes me a whore or selfish, or anything you want to call me that's fine because I've come to terms with the fact we aren't right for each other."

"Don't do this, Jay... I'll be better, I promise." Maya's face was pale as she cried. You felt embarrassed for her as everyone in the outside area was staring, cameras were flashing and you knew people were recording.

"I'll text you later." You sighed, before grabbing your purse and walking towards Maya. You wipe her tears and grab her hand, leading her away from the attention and cameras.

What do you guys think? Let me know below <3

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t-underneaththeradardancing · 3 months ago

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reminded of a moony - window from a recent ago - on this frog friday morning - already a tek nitemare - disstopian af tho minor and u no tech hatez t

as usual a kitty good and always murder birdsong (mostly louder in the evening ) errands and too many med visits - doing some pt to see if it helps with anything

as usual too much fuckery

the moon tho and kitty corvid and other birbs some music and moments here and there and glimpses

but the fuckery i fear may get worser

anyway

hallelujah

#frog friday #moon #poetry #photo

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mariasklodowskastwixbar · 8 days ago

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Alrighty, first drawing. This took me more than 4 hours, aka way too long lmfao

It's not my primary Sole Survivor character, this is Emilio Moretti, a virologist working for Med-Tek before the war. His wife, Vincenza Moretti, was a weapons manufacturer who built the T-45 power armor for West-Tek and also designed the military standard vertibirds.

On the day the bombs dropped, they were ushered into the Vault where they were frozen. The Institute breaks in and kidnaps their son, Saul, and Kellogg shoots Vincenza. But luckily she survives (...) and the two go out into the wastes trying to find their son.

Eventually though, they side against each other in the Battle of Bunker Hill. Vincenza betrays Emilio and sides with the Brotherhood of Steel.

She marches upon the Institute with the rest of the BoS and Liberty Prime where she blows the Institute sky high. Emilio only surviving by the skin of his teeth, when he's teleported outside by X6, alongside the Synth version of Saul.

Emilio is badly hurt by the explosion and his body is repaired using old Gen 2 Synth machinery. The survivors of the Institute become refugees in Vault 81. Emilio raises the Synth Saul as his son and eventually gains romantic interest in X6-88.

Im still not entirely sure what Emilio does now that he's a refugee. Part of me wants to write a grand rebellion against the Brotherhood. Another part of me just wants Emilio to live out the rest of his life as a Vault Dweller, he isn't a soldier, he's a scientist, he'd probably be happier living and working among other scientists in Vault 81, maybe even becoming a teacher or doctor.

Either way, there's my horrifying boy

I really tried to do clothing folds and shadows but I don't really think it worked. X6's jacket looks way better than Emilio's Institute uniform lmao.

But there he is, bisexual, Italian legend, severe burn victim

#fallout #fallout 4 #oc x canon #x6 88 #x6-88 #sole survivor x x6-88 #digital art

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cleverwordsandotherstuffilike · 7 months ago

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“The day before a storm has certain features,” she said. “It is hot, airless and so still that a storm seems impossible. The roads are corked due to traffic – people trying to get home, stock food and water, buy groceries. The talk is always how the storm will swerve at the last minute and save us. Jamaica is lucky, man. Special. Everybody knows that. Folks on social media will inveigh against negativity and object to bad things being wished into being. Prayers will be said. We’ll reach out to family and friends – you batten down? You off the road? You got your meds? And everywhere people will tek serious ting an mek joke.”

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druidgroves · 2 months ago

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reading the fallout wiki for fiction purposes & this tidbit in the notes section of med-tek research stood out to me because HUH

#WHY DOES IT MOVE. IT'S BONES.#rae.txt

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bardic-inspo · 2 years ago

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Six(+) Sentence Saturday

I’m alive!! I’ve moved!! I got rid of a bad organ!! I’m doing words!! And I’m really excited to be doing them again!!

And to probably no one’s surprise but my own, the next bit of the story that I was thinking of being two chapters has already split into three. I’m aiming to draft through all three of them before sharing again, since certain scenes might ultimately swap around. But progress is being made, and it feels like I’ve gotten to sort of reclaim some normalcy for myself in getting back to writing again.

Tagging @wishing4nuclearwinter, @theartofblossoming, @nomamonster, @electricshoebox, @totally-not-deacon, @atombonniebaby, @lookbluesoup, @vault-heck and whoever else wants to. No pressure if you’d rather not!

Here’s a bit more than six sentences from Bring the Gasoline, Chapter 29: The Other Shoe.

“Cold feet?”

[Natasha’s] shadow finally speaks. She eyes him warily.

“I don’t have a plan,” she says flatly. Seven hours of walking and winding around rubble and raiders didn’t plant one in her mind. Not even the smallest sprout.

“Didn’t you take improv?”

She rolls her eyes. “You stalked me so hard, you found out what I took for undergrad electives over two centuries ago?”

“To be fair, everything about you is two centuries ago,” Deacon smirks, but it’s fleeting. “And it wasn’t just one class. You got a whole minor in theater.”

When a beat of quiet passes, he adds sheepishly, “I found that out by accident trying to track down files on your old cases.”

“Maybe you and Magnolia should start a fan club,” Natasha mutters darkly.

Deacon’s brow furrows. “Mags is-- that wasn’t--”

“You know,” Natasha says tightly, “I just decided I don’t actually care about what you do in your free time.”

Natasha’s jaw shifts. Well, maybe she cares a little. Maybe enough to buy him a drink, at the end of all of this. If they make it to the end of all of this. If he drinks. What would Deacon drink, if he could have his pick?

Maybe she owes him one, even still. Maybe letting MacCready head off into danger he wanted to be in doesn’t cancel out saving them from the courser after Med-Tek. Or all the other times Deacon sprang to the rescue. Natasha toes the snowy slurry beneath her boot, watching it turn brown with the dirt.

Maybe she should spare Deacon and reserve her anger for MacCready alone. For leaving. For leaving a fucking note. If he had something important to say, he could’ve said it. That square of paper weighs as much in her pocket as that damn Fat Man did leaning against the wall at Ivan’s.

“What’s ‘free time?’” Deacon asks, chipper.

Natasha lets out a strained sigh.

#it is both very fun and kinda hard to write the three of them in this little tiff #like babes shush just go be future married #bring the gasoline #fallout #deacon x maccready x natasha #my writing #wip meme

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vaultscavver · 1 year ago

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wasteland, baby!

falloutober2023 day six: MONUMENT (5.2k // eventual nora x hancock x maccready)

a/n: so october is over :( happy november!! i'll still write all the amazing @falloutober prompts just for funsies bc i like the prompts and also im really sad that i didn't get the time to write last month. also i wrote this in the middle of the night on my phone after i woke up weirdly inspired for a kind of gory, creepy chapter with hella angst so tw for mentions of blood, panic attacks, puking, drug usage, feral chomp chomps, nora's sad memories overlapping her horniness for hancock, and uhhh rlly long paragraphs sorry

synopsis — med-tek research is a maze of ferals and dead-ends, but this crew of stubborn miscreants are determined to find the cure maccready needs. days go by in those hallowed walls; what’s the price for saving a life?

─ ─── ──── ─── ♠ ─── ──── ─── ─

Nora clawed at her gasmask, choking on her own sobs as she suffocated. The ventilation system was clogged, preventing her from getting any air in. Her hood was already torn off, thrown to the ground with her jacket – funny, she had tightened the straps of her mask as much as possible, thinking it would save her life, not kill her quicker.

Bodies laid sprawled around her, the blood and goo of half-decayed ferals clinging to every inch of her body, her gloves slick with it and her boots sliding in it. Her mask stuffed with feral guts. Every inhale was rotten, every gasp putrid.

Her knees hit the floor with a crack. Unable to get the mask off, Nora began to hyperventilate, tugging uselessly at the straps, her own modulated gasps filling the air, the sounds of machinery overlapping her cries.

Distantly, she heard the uneven footsteps of more ferals running along the aluminum floors and wondered if they were coming to finish her off. Gunshots rang through the air, far from her – too far.

Nora had fallen; she didn’t know how far, but she had fallen through broken floorboards and had landed right on top of a glowing feral and its friends. They had attacked instinctively. She had barely survived the fight.

“Nora?!” Someone shouted, too far away.

She struggled to respond, barely managing to whimper as she tugged on her mask, tugging, tugging, tugging – she couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, the damn mask wouldn’t come off –

In an instant, it was like the world was clear again.

Heaving, Nora fell to her hands and knees, inhaling her first breath of unfiltered air in weeks.

Then, she promptly turned and vomited.

Hands were on her back, her neck, scooping her short hair out of the way and rubbing her shoulders in soothing circles as she gagged and coughed, blinking hot tears out of her eyes. Breathing raggedly, Nora only managed to keep upright thanks to those hands, which held her gently as she trembled, jitters taking over as she panted, gasping for air.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Nora breathed in square rotations, trying to come to her senses. Those gentle hands moved her to sit on the ground, away from the ferals and puke, propping her up against the metal walls and peeling her gloves off, dropping them on the floor with her coat.

“Nora?” A deep, guttural voice asked so tentatively, so carefully.

In front of her, looking worried and a little lost, Hancock knelt, his red frock coat splattered with blood and feral gore.

Her mask dangled from his fingertips. The straps were frayed like they’d been sawed off. In his other hand was a switchblade.

Oh.

“Thanks.” She managed to grind the word out, her voice thick and uneven, sounding strange to her own ears without the modulator making her sound like a robot.

Hancock didn’t respond. He was so uncharacteristically quiet, not even sparing her one of his trademark smiles as he dropped the mask and stowed his knife, digging through the endless pockets of his coat.

An inhaler appeared in his hand, extended towards her.

Nora just stared at it, feeling a million miles away. She’d seen him use it before — what had he called it? Jet?

She’d never used an inhaler before, though she knew the mechanics of it. There were a lot of so-called chems to be found in post-apocalyptic Boston, but she hadn’t touched any of them (except when MacCready stabbed her with what he called a stimpack, but that hardly counted) and she certainly wasn’t brave enough to try Jet on her own when she didn’t know what it was supposed to do.

But… she was desperate. And she certainly wasn’t alone now.

Her stomach roiled as she reached for the inhaler with shaking hands, feeling like the entire world was twisting and she didn’t get the memo.

Trembling, Nora almost dropped the plastic. Hancock carefully put a hand around hers and brought the inhaler to her lips, his other hand cupping the back of her head to hold her in place as he slowly pushed the canister for her. The metering valve was sent into the actuator with a click, followed by the hiss of aerosol.

“Breathe in and hold,” Hancock instructed in that growl of a voice.

It tasted like shit. Literally, the aerosol tasted like actual shit. Still, Nora did as she was told, holding her breath until he gestured for her to exhale, lowering the inhaler.

And then she felt very, very cold.

The Jet worked almost immediately — the world moved in slow motion as a billow of white smoke swirled from Nora’s lips. Light filtered through the particles of dust hanging in the air, the room bathed in a green glow thanks to the radioactive ferals accompanied by Nora’s Pip-Boy screen, the brightness turned all the way up to work like a flashlight, so she could actually see the zombie-like feral ghouls she had nearly been killed by.

MacCready had been very stern that they were not zombies, they were ferals; ghouls that had gone feral with irradiation, madness taking over what was left of their mushy brains. They didn’t attack because they were violent creatures or because they wanted to eat people. They attacked because it was all that was left of their survival instinct. They were human, once, then ghoul, and had simply gone feral. Sometimes, people went from human to feral in a matter of minutes, if the radiation was potent enough. Sometimes they stayed ghoulified for hundreds of years – MacCready had told her that there were still ghouls from before the bombs; people that had never gone feral, who had survived for two centuries in the wastes. Nora didn’t know which fate was worse.

Wondering how long it would take herself, a pre-war vault dweller with minimal exposure to radioactivity, to go feral, Nora felt the Jet start to ease off as quickly as it came on, and her mind flooded with everything she’d been trying not to over think about.

They were in some lower level of Med-Tek. MacCready wasn’t kidding about the ferals being no easy task, but he hadn’t known just how large the building was. His old buddy had barely breached the entrance. The cure, the medicine Duncan needed, could’ve been anywhere — even with the help of their comrades, it had taken more than a day to get through the patient quarters and into the basement, where Nora hoped all the still-processing medications would be stored.

If her worst fears came true, both Nora and MacCready could end up childless. She doubted she’d ever see her son again, with how many times she’d utterly failed in hunting down his kidnapper. Seeing her closest friend go through that as well… They had to find this cure. They had to save Duncan, no matter the cost, no matter how long it took.

“You still with us?” Hancock asked, and as Nora’s focus returned to him, she realized that he was holding her jaw, his rough fingertips pressed firmly against her pulse point, feeling her heart race.

“Whatever that was,” Nora answered, her tongue feeling heavy in her mouth, “I want seven.”

Cracking a grin, the ghoulish mayor slid his hand down her cheek until he held her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Good news, I have more. Bad news, I’ve seen your face and I’m a changed man. Nothin’ is gonna be the same for me here on out. Shame on you.”

She rolled her eyes with a scoff. “You also saw me puke my guts out, so take your pickin’ of shame.”

Giving a short laugh, Hancock dug around in his red coat again, depositing his Jet and procuring a silvery flask, which he uncorked and held out for her. “And here I thought you were hiding some kind of wicked scar. Lemme guess, you didn’t want your pretty face getting mucked up?”

“Something like that.” The whiskey burned its way down her throat until the flask was empty and Nora finally felt warm again. She hadn’t liked whiskey in her old life.

Handing the flask back to the ghoul, she tried to stand, stumbling twice. Hancock helped her up and kept a grasp on her shoulders as she swayed, feeling dizzy and too loose, too relaxed.

“Give it a few minutes.” He muttered, gently rubbing a hand up and down her shoulder as he led her away from the glowing feral corpses. “Jet’s not always my ride of choice, I’m more of a Mentats ghoul myself. Makes me feel intellectual and shit.”

“Hm. Can I try that one?”

“Only if you promise to take it easy,” He said, already taking the tin out of his coat, popping the lid and taking one for himself before extending it to her.

Nora took one of the small mints with a careful hand, still feeling sluggish. It was grape flavored, the sweet and fruity mint spreading in her mouth with a cold, sharp feeling. And, like a light switch, Nora felt herself become more alert, more aware of their surroundings. The sluggish feeling melted away and she was left jittering, blinking quickly as she took in their room with a new fervor.

“How many floors did I fall?” She asked Hancock in a single quick breath, turning to look at the damaged floor above them.

He gave a hapless shrug and picked up his shotgun. “Around two? This shithole goes on forever. I followed you down, but there’s no telling where the others got to.”

Nora checked and double-checked her pistol, furrowing her brows. He had followed her? Jumped down two stories of broken flooring? She turned to look at the corpses of the glowing ferals, her Pip-Boy’s internal Geiger Counter giving a few warning clicks.

Without the lenses of her mask, the world seemed… bigger, clearer. Every detail of the ferals was like a pinprick on Nora’s heart, stabbing deeper and deeper; they wore lab coats and scrubs, torn apart and stained and ruined. They were human, once. They were alive, once. And all that life had been taken from them and they had spent two centuries trapped in a metal building, going insane with radiation until they were glowing with it.

She tore her gaze from them and side-stepped, circling the room and taking in the crumbling walls and ceilings, the broken lights and the machines that were beyond repair. Med-Tek was a medical research facility, and a lot of useful med gear had been left behind – Nora was quick to pocket any spare gauze, a first-aid kit, and the few sanitary products she trusted enough to shove into her bag – into MacCready’s army green duffle bag, slung over her shoulder.

Nora anxiously raked her short hair out of her face. Mac was somewhere above them, in some upper level of this shithole, hunting for the cure to save his son. He was with Nick Valentine, who was a detective, and MacCready had scoped out Med-Tek before – they had more luck finding the cure than Nora and Hancock did.

Spinning on her heel, Nora met Hancock’s attentive gaze. He had been watching her investigate every drawer and table in the room, and looked amused at her sudden attention.

With her mind still going a mile a minute, Nora found her curiosity piqued by the ghoul mayor, especially considering the fact that he was a ghoul in the first place – the first one she’d met and the only one she’d consider herself to be friends with.

“What’s your story, Hancock?” She asked, turning to shuffle through more drawers, unable to keep still.

His crooked smile widened. “My favorite subject! Let’s see... I wound up in Goodneighbor about a, uh, a decade ago? Had smooth skin back then. While I was busy making myself a pillar of the community, I would go on these, like, wild tears… I was young, takin’ any chems I could find, the more exotic the better. Finally found this experimental radiation drug. Only one of its kind, and only one hit. Oh man, the high was so worth it… I’m livin’ with the side effects now, but hey, what’s not to love about immortality?”

Thinking over his words, Nora slowly shut the file drawer and raked her hair from her eyes again. Her hair, a deep brown and cropped just under her ears, was greasy and tangled with neglect, knotted where her gas mask had rested on it for too long. She wondered what she would have to do to get her hands on some real soap, maybe a comb.

How much radiation would it take for Hancock to go feral? Was that even a possibility, if he was the only ghoul of his kind? His last word clicked, then, and she was repeating it as a question before she could over think his meaning. “Immortality?”

Leaning his shoulders back against the wall just as comfortably as he could’ve done in a fancy bar, Hancock gave a half-hearted shrug. “Not exactly. Ghouls just age really, really slow. Something about the rads, maybe? Who knows.”

“Hm.” Nora did one more turn around the room, making sure she didn’t miss any supplies. “All those drugs certainly prepared you for a career in politics.”

“Don’t go bringin’ me down, Sunshine,” He gruffed out, metal tin rattling as he plucked out another grape-flavored Mentat for himself. “People respect me ‘cause I don’t put myself above them, alright? I sling and shoot just like the next guy.”

Backtracking quickly, Nora turned back to Hancock, raising her hands palms-forward as a gesture of peace. “I just meant you could’ve gotten yourself killed. Experimental radiation drugs don’t sound exactly… safe.”

It sounded lame to say it out loud, and felt lamer when Hancock’s smirk grew into a teasing grin. “I like to think of death as the ultimate drug trip. When it happens, I’ll be too busy enjoying it to have any regrets.”

This was a different world, Nora reminded herself. Drugs – or chems – weren’t too dangerous in comparison to the lives of survivors out in the Commonwealth. Still, she just shook her head, checking her ammo for the third time. “You’re a hell of a risk-taker, Hancock.”

“You only got one life. Why not try it all?”

Before the war, all Nora had wanted was a quiet, gentle life. She had tried her best to stay within the lines, not to branch out too far or reach into dangerous waters. She had done a good job for the most part, working as a barista in the morning and a librarian in the evening, dabbling with old cars in her spare time like her grandfather had done her entire childhood. It was nice and sweet, until she’d married a soldier who was more of a stranger than a friend, was widowed at twenty-three years old, and willingly got locked up in a freezer with her infant son for two centuries.

The rest just felt like bad dream after bad dream, save the few good people she’d met and the friends she’d made in the likes of MacCready, Preston Garvey, and the new residents of her old neighborhood, Sanctuary – where the self-proclaimed Minutemen had taken root, building the old buildings back up and making a decently safe place for drifters and farmers alike.

She had to go back, eventually. Even if it hurt to look at the two-bedroom suburban dream with a blue front door, her late husband’s name on the lease and her son’s bedroom still decorated with constellations and rocket ships.

Those memories hurt, like a knife to the gut that she only felt if she twisted back to look at all she lost. So, instead of dwelling on her grief, Nora turned towards the feral-infested hallway and decided to just keep moving forward. MacCready still needed that cure, no matter the cost.

“Let’s keep moving.” She said aloud, popping her knuckles on the grip of her pistol.

“Right behind ya.” Hancock replied, readying his own weapon.

They walked silently through the dark halls of the research facility, wary of the ferals lurking around every corner.

Machines that hadn’t been touched in decades made the air brassy and metallic, the thick scent of blood and decay mingling with a dusty oldness that made Nora want her mask back – but with the straps broken, and feral guts in the vents, it wouldn’t have helped much.

Stomach churning, Nora just grit her teeth and continued onwards. Endlessly onwards.

Where had her family been when the bombs fell? Her grandparents and their old farm; were Ma’s dainty pink lace curtains still hanging at the window above the kitchen sink? Had the tea she brewed daily just been sitting on the counter for two hundred years? Was Pa in his shed when the world blew up? Did they die together, or were they yards apart?

She imagined them hearing the news and running to find each other as quickly as their old knees would allow, falling to their knees together in the wildflower grass. Future archeologists would find their remains held so tightly together that they wouldn’t know whose bones were whose.

Except Nora was in the future – it could be Nora that found the remains of her mother’s parents, of the old-fashioned couple who had raised her.

She felt sicker with every thought, but she couldn’t stop the barrage of memories and worries that surged through her. Maybe the Jet and Mentats were a bad idea after all.

Maybe old Ma and Pa had turned the radio on and heard the news with enough time to get dressed in their finest church clothes and shiniest shoes. Ma would’ve painted her nails and worn her lace gloves. Pa would’ve needed help with his tie, and he would’ve combed his white hair back carefully, the way he’d done for forty years. Maybe Pa had sat at the piano and played his wife one last love song. Maybe they’d held hands and sat on the back porch, sipping tea in their last moments together.

That was a better thought. No hassle, no running or screaming, no pain or worries. They had never been the kind of people to run about.

“Ferals up ahead.” Hancock’s gruff mumble pulled Nora from her thoughts. He took hold of her waistline with one hand, tugging her into a doorway in one of the medical hallways.

Nora blinked herself into focus, glad for the ghoul – if he hadn’t been there, she would’ve walked right into danger, still thinking of her long-dead grandparents.

Ahead of them was a machine room, where over a dozen ferals were shuffling around, some on the ground, as still as corpses. They looked anguished and half-rotted in their scrubs and lab coats. There was no way Nora and Hancock could get through the room unscathed, no way they could sneak around a hoard this size.

“We should go back, loop around.” Nora muttered under her breath, half-turning towards Hancock, who stood behind her, her nose brushing his cheek. They were nearly the same height, though Hancock’s dramatic hat and long coat gave the illusion that he was the taller of the two.

His foggy grey eyes flickered to hers, “Loop around where? There’s gonna be ferals in every nook ‘n corner of this place.”

The lights flickered and clicked above them, where the fluorescents were dangling on thin wires from the ceiling, powered by fusion energy, like most of the wasteland. Power seemed to be thriving in the Commonwealth, even if everything else was dying.

Nora had never seen Hancock this close; the grey tint to his skin seemed purplish in the darkness, his eyes voids of grey and black, like some distant galaxy. It was hard to read his face; typical signs of micro-expressions were gone from the ghoul, who had no nose or eyebrows, whose lips matched the rest of his flesh. He wasn’t half as scary as he seemed to be the first time they’d met. In fact, he seemed kind of… attractive, in a way Nora hadn’t considered before. The cut of his jaw, the sharp curve of his mouth, the softness around his eyes.

The hand at Nora’s waistline tightened, reminding her of his proficiency with a pocketknife, of his inhuman ghoul strength and sight, of his reputation as the fearless, rebellious ghoul mayor. She wondered what was beneath all of the talk, beneath the colonial costume, the killer outline—

A distant scream echoed through Med-Tek. MacCready.

They both flinched, whirling back to the ferals, who became agitated at the sound. A few of them broke from the group and ran down a nearby hallway, into the darkness.

Nora locked eyes with Hancock — their wide, panicked stares having a silent mutual agreement in an instant. No questions needed to be asked. Nothing needed to be said.

Together, they raised their firearms.

The hoard of ferals were cut through like the red sea. Blood splattered and corpses fell. A particularly fast feral caught Hancock’s sleeve — Nora shot it down, only to be bombarded with more.

The world spun. Her vision went red. Adrenaline and fear coursed through her alongside the chems, and Nora was moving without thought, firing without flinching. She felt detached from her body, in a way. Dissociative and panicked, she just fired, again and again, feeling nothing at all.

And then they were running, guns blazing, down the metal hallways, a hoard chasing them.

“Heads up!” Hancock yelled, tossing a lit bottle over his shoulder.

The Molotov Cocktail shattered, an explosive wave of heat rolling through the hallway as the ferals screamed — Nora didn't dare look back.

Skidding to a stop in what looked like some kind of office, Hancock whirled around to slam the door shut, dragging a metal filing cabinet in front of it for extra security.

The room was occupied by two ferals, who shrieked as Nora took them down.

Propping her hands on her knees, feeling icy, her lungs burning, Nora heaved, struggling to catch her breath, her heart racing.

"This place is trashed." MacCready's voice was distant but clear, with a tremor that told Nora he was in a lot of pain but trying to brave about it.

"You expected something fancy?" Piper Wright, the over-observant writer who ran the most popular (and only) newspaper press in the Commonwealth, sounded closer than MacCready, her voice echoing through the nearest stairway.

Nora immediately started towards the stairs, not bothering to be quiet. As she turned the corner at the base of the metal staircase, she was met with the barrels of three guns.

"Don't shoot," Hancock advised from behind her, "I'm the nice kinda ghoul, I swear."

Nick, his beige coat splattered with blood, gave a heavy sigh, lowering his shotgun. "Can't deny how relieved I am to see you two alive. This place is crawling with ferals."

The other two guns lowered. Nora was at MacCready’s side in an instant, her hands grasping his arms as she checked for wounds. It was dark in the lower levels of MedTek, but she could clearly see that the green fabric he wore was drenched in blood – it was so much that it was impossible to tell where it was coming from or even if it was his own.

"Where'd you get hit?"

"I, uh..." He stammered a little before shutting his mouth.

Nora looked up at her closest friend, eyebrows raised.

While Hancock was around her height, MacCready was nearly a head taller, and she could see him much more clearly without the foggy lenses of her gasmask. She had never noticed his freckles before, or how the grown-out stubble along his jaw had an auburn tinge, different from his ashy brown hair that he kept hidden under that green cap.

But, the blood – he was covered in it, the side of his head slick with an inky redness that was half-dry and thick, dripping down the side of his face and neck, coating his left shoulder and arm, blood running down his back and staining his beige-green duster.

"Mac," She spoke again, more clearly this time, meeting his eyes. "Where did you get hit?"

He just stared at her, wearing a vaguely panicked expression, his crystalline blue eyes wide and bordered with crow's feet wrinkles from years of squinting through sniper scopes.

"Might wanna cut down on the intensity, Sunshine." Hancock drawled with a chuckle. He was leaning against the wall by the stairway, packing a carton of cigarettes.

Nora gripped MacCready’s non-bloodied arm tighter, her other hand reaching for his cheek so she could turn his head and check for a scalp wound. She shot Hancock an annoyed look over her shoulder, “Intensity? The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, lighting a cigarette. His silver-plated lighter cast a fiery glow over his pocked face, highlighting his sharp grin. “They haven’t seen ya without the mask, sweetness. You’ve got one of those hundred-yard stares that can bring a man to his knees. Probably will, if you’re not careful.”

Scoffing, Nora turned back to MacCready. “You’re drowning in his blood, ‘Cread. Tell me it’s not yours.”

“It’s… not mine. Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Got nicked. I’ll be fine.”

“Liar.” Piper spoke up, and they turned to her as she plucked the cigarette from Hancock and brought it to her own lips, her expression gaunt like Nora had never seen her. “He got bit by a feral. The thing took out a who chunk of shoulder. Most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen.”

Nora’s heart stuttered.

“Excuse you, I could’ve died.” MacCready half-shouted, as easily irritable as ever.

“Good thing you got it off, then.” Piper rolled her eyes, handing the cigarette back to Hancock, smoke curling from her lips. “We gonna keep going or not?”

The four of them trudged onwards, with Nora and MacCready leading them, staying as close together as possible.

“You’re sure you’ll be fine?” She asked quietly, giving him a worried glance.

“Yeah.” He didn’t look at her, his hawklike eyes intent on their surroundings. “Nick wrapped it up. Stimpack and clean gauze and everything.”

From what Nora had seen on television as a kid, and from what she’d gathered from her time in the Commonwealth, you don’t want to get bit by a zombie – even if they’re called ferals instead. The virus might not be the same as it is in Hollywood, but the rot was bad for sure, and the radiation was no joke. A stimpack could only go so far – MacCready needed sanitation, Rad-X, and probably medical care beyond what the detective could do. A whole chunk off his shoulder… he likely needed stitches, too.

They came into what looked like a patient holding area, with rows of beds in their own chambers sealed behind locked doors, a feral in every one. Beyond them was another locked room, with a terminal and pin-pad key – medical testing, if Nora had to guess. They were close.

“Nora. Stop worrying.”

She turned back to MacCready as he raised his sniper to his good shoulder, casting a glance her way before scowling down the scope. Crossing her arms, Nora watched as he took out three ferals in a matter of seconds. “You’ve got the worst luck I’ve ever seen.”

“Tell me about it,” He huffed a short laugh, standing again. “But I’ve got a feeling it’s about to get a lot better.”

Nick broke through the terminal, his hacking skills on par with MacCready’s sniping skills.

As the door slid open, a green glow washed over them all – and a bloated ghoul prowled out, glowing so brightly and hotly that Nora’s entire body reacted to the radiation, rolling with nausea and heat.

MacCready raised his rifle, Nick raised his shotgun. Three more ghouls darted from the once-locked room and lunged at them, tackling the two men to the ground. Hancock and Piper raced forward to help.

The glowing one went for Nora, who had hesitated, terrified.

Bullets poured into the feral, but it was unperturbed, scrambling towards her with a gurgling scream. She dodged its first lunge and readied her gun again, firing .99s into its skull – to no avail.

The second lunge caught her leg and Nora went down with a yell, kicking it with her other foot, twisting her gun in her hand and bringing it down hard against the thing’s wrist.

Its hand broke off on the third hit and it screamed again. Nora’s boot met its face and it reeled back, groaning, its handless wrist coming up to its face.

Holy shit, could they feel pain?

Scrambling backwards, Nora snatched up her second pistol and fired again, unloading her entire stock into the glowing feral, backing herself against a wall as she put as much distance as she could between herself and the radioactive fucker.

A shot to the eye had the thing’s head exploding, green goo splattering as the body fell back with a wet thump on the linoleum floor.

Nora gagged, her Pip-Boy clicking irritably at her. Luckily, she was mostly out of the splash zone, but her leg burned and she was nearly completely out of ammo.

The other three had just finished off their hoard of ferals when Nora edged her way into the square room.

“You okay?” MacCready breathed out, clutching his shoulder. Hancock had an arm around him, holding him upright – the sheen of sweat on MacCready’s placid face glinted green thanks to the glowing feral’s corpse.

Nora barely nodded, worry clutching at her chest. She looked around the room, which seemed like a surgery center or some kind of testing lab.

“Have fun with this junk,” MacCready grunted, taking a rest atop one of the three gurneys in the room, lying back with his good arm flung over his face. “I have no idea what any of it does.”

He almost sounded uninterested – like he’d rather not help search for his son’s cure, in case it wasn’t here at all, like he couldn’t stand the thought of having come all this way just to find nothing.

Nora was determined not to leave empty-handed.

The room was decently sized and absolutely packed with all kinds of medical gear, with a long table covered in tools of all kinds, including scalpels, glass vials, bottles of pills, and flasks of mystery liquids. There were three empty gurneys, a broken cooler, piles and piles of scattered papers and files – and, finally, on a tray next to a surgical table where a skeleton had been strapped down, a little foam-lined red box labeled PREVENT.

Duncan’s cure. It had to be the cure. Nora was never given a name – she wasn’t sure of MacCready himself even knew the name of the medicine, but this had to be it. It had to be. And if it wasn’t… well, there was a plenty of Med-X on the long table. Maybe that kind of power could substitute the mystery cure that Duncan needed.

Nora clicked the box open to examine the syringe within, grinning at the sight of it. Her internal compass told her she’d found exactly what she was looking for her. This was the first thing she’d done right since setting foot in the Commonwealth. She clicked it shut again and turned to her best friend, holding the red box up. “Look alive, MacCready.”

The other three went very still as MacCready carefully sat up, each looking ready to run out of the room if the syringe ended up being the wrong thing.

But, as MacCready took the box into his shaking, bloodied hands, tears shone in his icy eyes. “We did it... Holy crap, we did it!”

He swept Nora into a tight hug, her feet coming off the ground, a broken laugh escaping him. She held him just as tightly, heart aching for him and his son. Into his shoulder, Nora murmured, “Duncan has a fighting chance.”

“Yeah,” MacCready wept, trying and failing to hide his tears. “I-I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay you for this… I owe you big time.”

Pulling back, Nora thumbed tears off of his face. “All I care about is curing your son.”

“I know you do.” He met her gaze – actually seeing her, without the mask, without looking away. “I’m… I’m just tired of taking instead of giving. Maybe one day I’ll get my priorities straight.”

Nora shook her head, pressing the red box more firmly into his palm. “Don’t worry about it, ‘Cread. Where to next?”

“Daisy, in Goodneighbor. With her caravan contacts, she’s the only one I trust to get me to Duncan on time. This is the last favor I’m going to ask, I promise.”

She really, really hoped it wasn’t. But… Mac was going back to his son, in the Capital Wasteland. Would he even come back, now that he had the cure? The last favor. Something in Nora trembled at the thought of it. Still, she smiled, taking a step back and putting space between them. “Let’s go.”

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