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nuka-nuke · 6 years ago

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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.”

#ilya valle #mike williams #my oc #friend's oc #fallout fanfiction #nuketext #lots of nuketext #i am really nervous to actually post anything i write ever. buuuuut here we go then #only because dino said she loved it #oc x oc #flirty trashbags #my writing

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nuka-nuke · 6 years ago

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Monsters

Nataniel faces a choice.

@life-is-no-sugarlicking and I were discussing how our Sole Survivor’s lives would differ if their spouse was not killed by the Institute, which inspired this short story about Ilya and Nataniel.

“I can’t let you passed, Dunya.”

Rain poured hard all around like a curtain veiling the two from the crumbling world around them, including the massive yet unimposing apartment building of Ticonderoga that they stood in front of. The metallic gen one synths creaked, illuminated yellow eyes focusing on the white haired woman they surrounded while impatiently awaiting her orders. “I can’t… let you do this—“ the man’s voice cracked, unable to finish the threat. While the massive gauss rifle he had leveled up towards the slender woman was unwavering, the emotions he struggled to hold back were not.

Dressed in well-protected Institute courser armor, his wife stood on the receiving end. She was watching him with those piercing blue eyes, seemingly unfazed; seeming to barely even be moving at all.

Ilya’s only response was a quiet sigh. She held her gun clutched securely in her right hand, but inside she knew it would not be needed. She took a few steps closer towards him, directly in front of the extensive barrel on his Railroad issued weapon, and dropped her own automatic rifle to the ground with a resounding clatter of metal on concrete. The synths behind her fidgeted and readied their pistols.

“Nati,” she began, her voice tense with anger, but ringing in his ears with the fond familiarity he had loved. “If you want to shoot me, just do it.”

The words hung in the air as tangible and heavy as the rain battering against the side of his face. Ilya stared at him almost expectantly, challengingly. Yet no matter how his finger might tease the trigger, he could not bring himself to pull it back and unleash the awaiting electromagnetic cartridge into the woman.

He could not sacrifice her for the sake of the synths he swore to protect.

The feeling of absolute despair weighed him down. Nataniel dropped the weapon and fell to his knees in front of the slight woman. Swiftly she glanced over her shoulder towards the synths that remained ready, giving one small gesture with her head towards the door of the building to instruct them to continue with the raid. Instantly, the skeletal feet stormed on wards and up the stairs, into the secret Railroad hideout which Ilya betrayed.

Nataniel held his head in his hands, the tears that fell from his eyes for the actions he knew were taking place in the building the two of them had made their home intermixing with the rain that drenched him to the bone. He knew those people who he had called friends were helpless, and the all too familiar sound of institute relays teleporting in more synths and the rapid gunfire of the Railroad agents who were ambushed rang in his head like a horrible nightmare he couldn’t wake up from.

Suddenly, the feeling of a tiny hand brushing the wet hair from his face jerked him back to the present. Ilya sat in front of him on the puddled street, that cruel and heartless expression replaced by one that he recognized much more fondly, of love.

His heart was breaking; For the synths, for his friends that were dying upstairs. And for her.

“It’s not too late, Nati.” Her voice was like a melody. It always was. Those blue eyes almost seemed to be hurting just as much as he was, but he knew her tricks. “You can still come back with me. To the Institute… To our son.”

Nataniel lifted his hand to gently clutch hers. He wanted so badly for this to just be a dream. He wanted to open his eyes and wake up back in October of 2077, holding his infant son with his beautiful Ilya by his side.

He wanted to hold his wife, tell her he loved her, and not worry ever again about the chaos of this life they had found themselves in.

But it was too late for that.

“Dunya… You have made your choice, and I have made mine.” His voice still shook with the tears he struggled to hold back. “Our son is a monster.”

Releasing her hand, he reached for the abandoned gauss rifle and shakily rose to his feet. He took a few steps forward towards the door of Ticonderoga, knowing in his heart that it was past the time to be offering his help for those inside. He turned to reconnect those amber eyes one final time with the crystal blue ones of the woman he had pledged his life to so many years ago. No more did his eyes shine with any remaining sign of love as he stared down towards her.

“And so are you.”

#nuketext #ilya valle #nataniel valle #fallout oc #fallout fanfiction #fallout fanfic #fallout spoilers #my oc #lots of nuketext #dual survivors #my writing

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