#fallout new vegas companions react | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

danses-with-dogmeat · 1 year

Note

wait omg can i request joshua for the praise thing?? it's so cute i think i'm gonna pass out /pos (gn!six please)

Joshua Graham Reacts to g/n! Six Giving him Praise

Ahh yes! I'm so glad you enjoyed it, that piece was just too darn sweet to write, honestly.

Sorry it took so long to come out, but here it is! I hope you like it! 😁

Also, here's the original ask as well:

"I just have to ask you for a few characters 👉👈 Porter Gage, Hancock, Raul, Charon and Gob ack don't call me out for my ghoul loving ass just getting showered in praise. I just feel the ghouls don't GET enough lovin', they are all wonderful, handsome and great men."

And here is the link to the full post!

I'm gonna add Joshua to the full post as well, btw :3

“Joshua?” Your voice carried smoothly over the sand, through the hot, dry air. But Joshua didn’t stir, he didn’t even seem to register his name.

“You okay?” You pressed forward, craning your neck as you took a couple steps in his direction, trying to see what it was in the creek that had caught his attention so fully.

“Did you… find something?” You bent down as you reached Joshua’s side, noting the way his unblinking eyes seemed glued to… nothing. Nothing, but his own reflection, staring back with the same intensity.

The sand shifted beneath you as you settled by Joshua’s side. He noticed you, out of the corner of his eye, but remained silent.

What could he say?

How could he speak all that he was thinking, as he peered down at his scarred and bandaged face? Could he voice the way that he feels? So unworthy of your devotion to him, so confused as to why you stay by his side, so appreciative that you care for him the way you do, but so wholly afraid that if he speaks his fears, that they will come true. That, as soon as you come to your senses, as soon as the novelty of being with him fades, you will leave…

Who could love a face like mine? And more… Who could love the man that this face belongs to? A man who has done so much wrong, that his sins could only be absolved through the most violent forms of suffering? And even still… Am I truly free of them?

He did not feel it.

“I... am not worthy…” The missionary began quietly, and saw your head snap towards him as the words met your ears. “I am not worthy of even the least of all the deeds of steadfast love and all the faithfulness you have shown me.”

“What?” You asked, your brows furrowing as you shifted your body to face him, rather than the stream of water below.

“It’s a line from Genesis." He attempted to clarify, "Jacob is speaking to God, speaking to him of his own humility in response to the devotion that the Lord has shown him.”

Your brows didn’t unfurrow.

“And that… That has to do with…?”

“I’m not…” Joshua’s jaw clenched as his eyes finally left his own watery visage in favor of hiding behind his downed lids.

“I’m not sure why I said it. The quote just… came over me.” He lied, knowing full-well that the words had everything to do with you.

If I tell you that I feel unworthy of you, will that start something? Will that plant the idea in your mind that I don’t deserve you? Will you then act on that idea?

“Hey.”

He felt your touch upon his shoulder as your voice met his ears, it was light, but unyielding as your fingers clenched at the bandages insistently.

“You can talk to me.” You smiled as Joshua’s eyes opened and his gaze landed upon your face, and he wasn’t immune to it. Nor your words, and all that they promised.

Love rejoices with the truth.

“I’m humbled by you, Six. Humbled by the love you show me every day, and I feel… As Jacob did with the love of God. I feel unworthy of you.”

He felt your grip tighten upon his shoulder as sadness flooded your expression. It pained him to know he was the source of the strife he saw in your eyes.

“Sometimes it’s easy to forget who I am, what I’ve done… What I look like, when I’m beside you, but then, my reflection finds me. Then as I look upon your face, as I remember your deeds and your devotion to me, your kindness to others... I cannot help but feel confused.”

“Joshua, I–”

He continued insistently, his scarred brow hardening over the intense blue of his eyes as you saw them spark with fire from within.

“I have erred more times than I could possibly count, and yet, each is written upon me, like a shouted word, etched into my very skin for all the world to see. For all who gaze upon me to pity me and my failures, to hate my deeds and to agree that I am unworthy of compassion and repentance. That I am unworthy of happiness, and certainly, of love. They see you beside me, and they know, simply by seeing me, that I am unworthy of you.”

Joshua’s hand traveled slowly up to grasp at yours. Your eyes were wide and glistening as he gently took hold of you, and removed your touch from him.

The air was utterly caught in your throat as your partner released your hand from his grip and stood beside you, his gaze resting back on the reflection in the running water that marred his covered features even further with each ripple over the small, jagged river stones that weren’t yet smoothed over by the current.

“But it seems that you’ve failed to note this. Whether by choice, or simply because you are too righteous to see such things, you’ve still stood by me, even despite all that I’ve done, and that I am... I had to be sure you know the truth, Six. So that you can make your own decision about me, about our relationship… And you can find the words and inspiration you need to leave me behind, and to move on to better things. To be with someone who deserves you.”

And truth will set you free.

The thought sprung unbidden into Joshua's mind.

I don't feel free.

But perhaps... Perhaps, now, Six can.

Still, you sat in the sand, in shock at everything that had just left your partner, the man you love, and have loved happily for the months you’ve been together.

Where had it all come from?

One moment you’re making camp, waiting for Joshua to collect water, dusting off the fabric of your tent, laying out the bedrolls close enough to later rest in his embrace all through the night, and now he… what? Wants you to leave him?

What changed?

Joshua made a move to step away from you, to leave you kneeling there, alone, beside the river that had apparently inspired these harsh words that encouraged even harsher actions, but you would not stand for it.

You could not.

“I won’t leave you, Joshua.” You got to your feet as he paused his steps, and he tilted his head towards you, to better hear your words. To hear the justification that he was sure would be well-meant, but ultimately, unfounded.

“Why?” He whispered, and you got the sense that he was going to speak more, that he would continue monologuing until he convinced himself further that you do not belong with him, even when you know that, beyond all reason, you do.

“Because Joshua, because..." You took a breath as righteous words filled your mind, "'You are precious in my eyes, and honored, and… I love you.' That quote comes from the book of Isaiah. And it’s God speaking to Jacob, telling him that this is why men are worthy of him, and why, even if they’re not, they’re still deserving of unconditional love, even by one as divine and perfect as God.”

Joshua’s eyes were the ones widening now, and his body turned so that he could face you fully once again.

“Now, I’m not saying that I’m perfect, but… If God can stand to love you, if he can keep you here, after all you’ve been through, if he can promise you life, even after going through what should’ve meant your death tenfold, then can’t I do the same? Can’t I promise you a life with me, can’t I love and accept you for who you are, no matter what anyone else thinks?”

Joshua’s light eyes were glistening as they fixed on the sand below him, and you couldn’t help but step forward to try and draw his attention back to you.

I had to sit through your monologue of self-hatred. Now it’s your turn to listen to all the reasons your words were wrong.

I won’t have you tuning me out.

“After living a life so devoid of it, there’s no one I can think of who’s more worthy of love and compassion than you.”

You placed both hands on either side of his face, gently urging his eyes to meet yours.

“Everything you’ve done, Joshua… You’ve been made to pay for. Just as you said, it’s all written upon your body, but it’s here too.” You dragged one palm down to rest over his chest. It was warm to the touch, even through the layers of his bandages and clothes.

“And here.” The fingers of your other hand brushed over his temple, then his forehead.

“You’ve paid for it enough. With these horrible thoughts, these feelings of unworthiness plaguing you, every mark upon your skin, all the pain you feel every day. Trust me, my love, you've paid for it. Now… I think God and I both just want you to know peace.”

Joshua’s hands rose to delicately collect yours, to pull them down in between your bodies. But he didn’t release them from his grasp this time, only held them there, embracing you as much as he could allow himself as his mind still swirled with turmoil.

“But why?" He asked, "You don’t have to be with me. No one is requiring it of you; and with another, everything would be so much easier. You could be happy… Happier than I can make you.”

“Why you?” You almost laughed at him, it seemed so obvious within the confines of your own mind, the mind that was almost always occupied with thoughts of him only. “I love you, Joshua. I love how you speak to me, how you respect me and want me in your life. I love that I’m able to help you, but you… You’ve helped me more than I think you know.”

“How?” His voice was so desperate for an answer, it was almost demanding.

“Ever since I woke up from that grave… I didn’t really have a purpose. I didn’t know who I was, didn’t have anyone in my life to turn to, I didn’t have a path... but you gave me one. With you, I could help people in ways I never imagined. You were always so sure of your own path, that it inspired me to be sure of it too. To become a part of your path.”

You could feel your hands shaking where he held them between you. Your whole body was trembling with insistence, begging him to take your words to heart.

Everything about this night that the two of you were sharing once pointed to normalcy. Making camp, divvying out duties, feeling the warmth of the fire against the cool desert air, hearing the wind sweep over the dunes of sand; it was like so many other nights spent with one another. You hadn’t expected to have this conversation, hadn’t thought you’d be fighting tooth and nail to get your partner to understand how deeply you cared for him, how much you couldn’t stand the thought of leaving him, let alone ever consider it without his knowledge. But it was happening, and now this night was so much more important than all those others, because if you fail… It could be the end of all of this. This bliss that you’ve taken for granted.

You’d survived without him for months before you ever met him, you could find happiness without Joshua, you knew that, but… With him, you didn’t have to look for happiness. With him, it surrounded you.

“You have made my heart beat faster with a single glance of your eyes,” You said quietly, and even with the linen wraps covering Joshua's visage, you could see the way he softened at your words. “You made me love you more with every word you spoke. I can’t imagine who I’d be now without you, and I don’t want to.”

Your hands tightened within his grasp, and you pulled his body closer to yours as your eyes stayed locked to his mesmerizing gaze.

“Darling… in all my life, I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you. Believe me.”

You insisted, and then you leaned forward even further, and kissed him.

The thin linen obstructed you a bit, but it didn’t matter. You could feel the heat of him through it, sense the shape of his lips as they moved against yours, as they relented to your touch, and to your words. As he let you love him.

Joshua’s hands released yours, allowing you to press yourself closer to him as you felt his touch upon your hip, and around the nape of your neck. In the same movement, your arms smoothed over his chest to grasp at his shoulders. He took a deep breath in through his nose, as though he’d been devoid of oxygen until you pressed yourself to him, and you felt the warm puff of air pass through his bandages and caress your face as he exhaled. Subtly, you could taste him through the barrier, the sweetness of cactus fruit, and the tartness of the healing powder he mixed into the water he drank. You sighed into him at the familiarity of it all. His touch, his taste, his burning warmth that sometimes felt unnaturally hot. Enough so, even, that it could scar you in return.

And though it never had, Joshua hadn’t ever left any physical blemishes upon your skin from his touch, from his love of you, you were certain that you hadn’t gone completely unmarked by him. Like the words he spoke, like the thoughts and actions he inspired, like the emotions that surrounded him in your mind, his mark was within you. And all of that, all of his influence, his own love for you in return, that you felt was as permanent as any scar left upon his own skin.

“Thank you,” You felt Joshua whisper against you as you parted, but remained pressed to one another. “Thank you, Six, for all that you have given me. I… I still do not feel worthy of it, but, I will do what I can to change that. No matter how long it takes.”

“Mm.” You hummed, a grin touching your lips as you pressed your forehead to his and closed your eyes, soaking in the simple feel of him. “And I’ll be right here. Right beside you, all the way.”

You felt the outline of his own smile as Joshua leaned forward, and captured your lips with his once again.

89 notes · View notes

satans-left-asscheeky · 1 year

Text

Do the Fonv companions watch anime

Arcade

This one's 50/50 for me. I feel like he'd like it if he ever actually watched it, but someone would have to force him to watch it for him to ever really get into it

Benny

No, but Swank watches it, so he's seen it.

Boone

No. Doesn't understand it, but will watch if forced

Cass

No she thinks it annoying and is really obnoxious about her opinion too.

Raul

Maybe- Like if six watched it he'd watch it with them, but he'd never really watch it of his own accord

Veronica

YES! She's super into probably would get Cade into it and share theories with him, she'd also probably force Boone and Raul to watch too.

Vulpes

Yes? But more to understand what people are talking about at first... doesn't really watch it because he likes it though (except the violent ones he's all for those)

57 notes · View notes

profligate-whore · 2 years

Text

Vulpes Inculta Headcanons

He is fluent in latin

He's probably the smartest person in the legion and spends most of his free time training or reading

He'd never admit it but he has a book of Catullus poems hidden under his bed

He practically hoards books, especially anything written in latin

Unpopular opinion but I imagine Vulpes being a virgin. Many of the legion men may lay with the slaves but it is generally frowned upon. It is viewed as them being weak and dependent on women if they can't control themselves. Vulpes holds himself of a higher standard, also he refuses to 'dirty' himself with the slaves and anyone unworthy. He will wait for the right woman even though he's not actively looking.

He writes Latin love poems to you

When his tribe was being conquered by the Legion, his mother had tried to slit his throat to spare him from being forced into their ranks.

He grew up near the great salt lakes of Utah. Most of his childhood was spent swimming.

He has whipping scars on his back from Legion punishments

Joshua Graham had trained him when he was first recruited into the Legion at 9 years old. Joshua became somewhat of a father figure to him

To test Vulpes' loyalty to Caesar he was commanded to light Joshua Graham on fire before he was pushed into the Grand Canyon. He was hesitant, but ultimately obeyed and earned himself a higher rank.

Vulpes had a brother that was killed when his tribe was conquered

As a hobby, he carves woods into little statues and figurines, usually portraying someone from ancient Rome and mythology

Although he seems cold and cruel, he isn't a horrible person. At least not as bad as he seems.

He's never beat any slaves and usually scolds legionaries that do, telling them they're weak and cowards to attack someone that's defenseless and so far below them

As the head Frumentarii he has learned to fit in with the culture of New Vegas. While the other legionaries may be confused by technology and not understand many things outside of the Legion he has exceptional knowledge on it.

#new vegas #arcade gannon #fallout 4 #fallout fanfic #vulpes inculta #caesar’s legion #joshua graham #craig boone #new california republic #vulpes #fallout new vegas #fallout #fallout companions react #fallout headcanons

252 notes · View notes

allekat1988 · 2 years

Text

New Vegas (Humanoid) Companions and Their (Possible) Favorite Pokémon Types

Arcade- Electric (but he would totally have a Chansey or Blissey.)

Boone- Dragon (Let's give him a Rayquaza to fight the Legion, he'll love it. I think.)

Cass- Fighting (Imagine her having a Lucario in a bar fight, just imagine it)

Lily- Normal (She'd probably just get a pack of Eevees and never evolve them or end up with a pack of Sylveons since they evolve by love and Lily would most likely spoil her Eevees ROTTEN. Like her grandkids)

Raul- Steel (Just think how helpful a Magneton would be doing repairs)

Veronica- Fairy (Veronica would probably lose her absolute shit over how cute a Sylveon is and she'd probably also go berserk over how pretty a Galarian Rapidash too)

#fallout: new vegas #fnv #fallout new vegas #new vegas #fallout #the idea wouldn't leave me alone #so now it's everyone's problem lol #if anyone has any alternate type ideas I would be so DOWN to hearing them #now that i think of it veronica would probably LOVE normal rapidash too #'it's a 'FIRE UNICORN!? I LOVE IT.'#arcade gannon #craig boone #rose of sharon cassidy #veronica santangelo #raul tejada #lily bowen #fnv companion reacts #fnv companions

59 notes · View notes

falloutnewcourier · 1 year

Text

Question for y’all, would y’all be interested in companion reactions if I did them? I wanna try and get used to writing the characters as I haven’t really written for them before.

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fallout 4 #fallout companions #fallout companions react #courier six

14 notes · View notes

ground-zero-idiocies · 2 years

Text

The Official Ground Zero Idiocies Masterlist

It��s here! I’ve divided the posts into a few categories for ease and convenience. Enjoy!

Companion Switch Dialogue: Jack Cabot Scribe Haylen

Headcanons: F4 Companions’ Favorite Meat Dishes F4 Companions’ Favorite Musicals F4 Companions’ Favorite Modern-ish Bands F4 Companions’ Favorite Movies F4 Companions’ Favorite Pets F4 Companions’ Opinions on Furbies F4 Companions’ Favorite North American Cities F4 Companions’ Favorite Star Wars Movies Random Nick Valentine Headcanons Random Piper Headcanons

Companion Reacts: Fluff Lightning Round F4 Companions Encounter a Dinosaur F4 Companions go to IHOP F4 Companions Meet the Mysterious Stranger F4 Companions Teach a High School Class F4 Companions Tell Their Favorite Jokes F4 Companions Play Minecraft F4 Companions go to College F4 Companions React to a Terrible Battle Plan F4 Companions Get Pranked F4 Companions get Nicknames F4 Companions get Insulted F4 Companions Act Their Age F4 Companions Witness a Stampede F4 Companions Get a Drink F4 Companions go to McDonalds F4 Companions on an Airplane F4 Companions React to ‘Glimpse of Us’ by Joji F4 Companions React to ‘Something Stupid’ by Frank Sinatra F4 Companions React to ‘Bad Habits’ by Ed Sheeran F4 Companions find the Treasure of Jamaica Plain NV Companions React to the Courier’s Deadliness NV Companions React to the Courier’s Gambling Super Mutants Talk about the Institute

Superhero Nora Series: Nora is Captain America Nora is Iron Man Nora is Black Widow

Fallout Short Fiction: Preston Hosts Boy’s Night Companions go Bowling Vault 112 Pitch Meeting The Strange Case of Nora and the Pip-Boys James, the Man Who Saved Danse’s Beautiful Ass Dad An Extended (Synthetic) Family Put Some Damn Clothes On! Let’s Take his Coat!

My Fallout Opinions: My Biggest Problem with New Vegas Gary is Dumb Response: Gary is *Still* Dumb What I Hate About Every Fallout Game Why House Would Probably (Unfortunately) Win Fallout Hot Takes Fallout Hot Takes, The Second Fandom Overlap: Fallout and Star Trek Racist Parts in Every Fallout Game My Problem with Fallout 4 Companion Reacts Changes I Would Make to Fallout 4 Not Romancing Valentine is Good, Actually Honest Hearts is a Waste Things we Forget About Companions Danse and his Magic Armor Fallout Fans Don’t Support Genocide for 5 Minutes Challenge (Impossible) Fallout TV Show Anxieties Best/Worst Fallout Ships Every Fallout Game and DLC, Ranked

Random Posts: Super Mutant Baseball Power Armor Warranty President Eden is Dumb Longfellow is not Old The Sole Survivor Goes to Diamond City Companions Get Vaccinated NFT Shenanigans pt. 1 NFT Shenanigans pt. 2 Stop Simping I Love Jack Cabot I Love Klamath Bob Infinite Monkey Cage Fallout Movie Fancast pt. 1 Fallout Movie Fancast pt. 2 Fallout Movie Fancast pt. 3 How are Catholics Real What Grocery Store is X6? I ranked the Star Wars Movies(?)

#it is done #masterlist #fallout #fallout 4 #companions react #fallout new vegas

61 notes · View notes

grumpymirelurkqueen · 1 year

Text

Thank you for your answers it might push me to publish my ff danse one day 🤔

lol never...

5 notes · View notes

boomhealers · 2 years

Text

Fallout new vegas companions as fire emblem classes

Local man combines two of his hyperfixations into one . im local m

[this isnt based on any particular game but i will list second seal classes too for fun. also fuck gender locked classes all my homies hate gender locked classes gender will not matter here]

Boone

Archer with myrmidon as a second seal class . hear me out . he would absolutely have an extremely high skill stat and would snipe everyone from so far . If archer, he’d promote to sniper, and if myrmidon he’d promote to assassin. He would be broken as hell

Arcade

Priest with dark mage as a second class. The sheer power of seeing him shoot dark magic across the map would be so good. He’d prolly (as priest) be promoted to sage(war cleric!arcade would be blursed), or sorcerer as a dark mage. His defense would be atrocious, if you held a weapon and looked at him, he would die.

Lily

You know what? She’d be a war cleric. With secondary being armored knight.

Veronica

Fighter 1000%. Would immediately go berserker. Second class would be wyvern rider to wyvern lord.

Cass

Cavalier. I cannot describe why but she vaguely has cavalier that accidentally walked in during the middle of the fight vibes. Promotes to paladint. Second class would be trickster.

Raul

You’d recruit him as a Hero already. Second class probably something like swordmaster.

#fallout #fnv #fallout new vegas #fonv #fallout companions react #?#companions react #fire emblem #FE #this was extremely enriching for me #i will absolutely do the fo4 ones next #also the courier would be the lord obvs

11 notes · View notes

what-inthe-goddamn · 2 years

Note

(Fnv) ok, idk if u will like this and do it but i have a stupid headcannon that during the events of dead money, six and christine actually start having feelings for each other and confess before six went to fac Elijah. afterwards, thinking six is dead, she, doug(dog and god) and also Dean if he is alive leave Sierra madre and start their journey. anyways, was wondering wht would happen if six and companions meet the crew when they come to Vegas looking for six and stuff??

Wnoaksidjsisis my heart

Six’s heart dropped when they locked eyes with her. Never in a million years did they think she would cross paths with them again. Words wouldn’t form, so they just ran to her, pulling her into her arms. She melted into their touch. Christine was unable keep her composure, sobbing into their shoulder.

Christine had always kept a small flame of hope in her heart that they had somehow crawled out of that casino. Even if she never got to see them again, it would have been enough just to know. But here was Six, alive and well right before her. At first she swore it was a mirage, dust in her eyes, or that it was just someone who resembled them. All her doubts faded when they called out her name. She ran to them, holding onto them tightly, just like they had as Six prepared to descend into the bunker. Blurting out rushed “I love you”s, not even having a proper moment to seal it with a kiss. Maybe she would have a chance now, to really lay it all down for them. They could start over, take their time to process these feelings. She pulls away from them, feeling eyes on her. A hooded girl, armed with a pneumatic gauntlet. “Veronica”, she calls out to her. What were the odds?

Veronica flings herself at Six and Christine, weeping as they pulled her into their arms. While the voice was different, she could have recognized those soft features anywhere. Years have past, but Christine still carried that glint in her eyes that she had first fallen for during their training.

Dean and Doug we’re just as shocked to see that Six was intact, but nevertheless relieved. Both of them knew Christine never shook it off, the weight of leaving Six, or what was left of them, behind with Elijah. They let Christine and the other two have this moment.

Boone and Raul hung back, at first cautious of the stranger approaching Six. They untensed as Six began their tearful reunion. Cass awed at the three of them, suggesting they catch up at the bar nearby. As cute as it was, the sun was blazing down on them. Arcade agreed, but held out for their sappy moment. These things couldn’t be rushed.

#courier six #christine royce #craig boone #arcade gannon #rose of sharon cassidy #veronica santangelo #raul tejada #dean domino #dog/god #fallout new vegas companions react #fallout new vegas #fallout companion reactions #companions react

56 notes · View notes

nightingaelic · 1 year

Note

Fallout 4 companions react to learning about Caesar's Legion (maybe from an ex-Legionary perspective who now realizes that he was used as a weapon by a ruthless fascist(

The sole survivor was in the corner of the Third Rail's bar, tilting their nearly-empty glass around in fascination as the man before them told his story. The tale itself was full of sand, blood, banners with a golden bull and a bottleneck in the Mojave where nations fell, and it was easy enough for the sole survivor's companion to slip in and listen while the stranger laid it out.

"Arizona," the sole survivor said in wonder when the man had finished. They downed the rest of their drink and pushed the glass forward for a refill. "And trying to recreate Rome... I was never really into ancient history, but it sounds like your Caesar didn't want the reality of that society, just the trappings of it. Am I right?"

The stranger inclined his head. "The change was quick, ruthless, but it brought stability where there once was none. You could even live well in the empire, if you kept your head down. But we lived in service to Caesar, not his Legion, and Caesar's thirst for conquest could not be quenched. It was his end, and thus the end of what he built. There was no empire without Caesar."

Cait: Cait's mouth had taken on an awful, bitter taste as soon as she realized that the man was describing a nation of slaves, and she swallowed the rest of her own drink to try to flood her senses. It didn't help much - the Third Rail's beer had its own bitterness. "Good riddance," she said instead, rubbing her neck. "Let men like him dry out in the desert, in unmarked graves."

"So he died in the Mojave?" the sole survivor pressed. "What killed him?"

"I don't know." The stranger pushed his hair back and glanced around the room. "There are stories, thick as bloodbugs after rain. Internal strife. Heart attack after the defeat at Hoover Dam. An old Legate, come back from the dead to exact revenge, or a newcomer with stars in their eyes and the city across the river at their back. Doesn't matter, I say."

"You're goddamned right it doesn't," Cait agreed. "What happened to his army? The people he took, to run his war?"

The man shrugged. "Scattered. Went home, or elsewhere if home was gone. Arizona roads fell apart again, raiders came back, but the old feuds were gone. Made it easier to band together, make something new."

"As long as it's not another slaving group." Cait huffed her dissatisfaction and slumped against the bar. "That's about the only good thing that comes out of wearing a collar. You find someone else who's worn one, you know them. Doesn't matter if they fought it, suffered alone or with others, tried to play it off like they were happier with one on, you just... know."

Codsworth: "I don't suppose this Legion was very popular, outside of the areas it occupied?" Codsworth asked anxiously. "I would hate to think that there were other nations like it, in what was once a great country."

"Popular or not, the fact that it grew into something big enough to occupy Arizona and beyond is enough to make you worry." The sole survivor sighed. "You fall asleep for 200 years and you wake up thinking that maybe things changed. But they didn't. I'd say I don't get it, but there's nothing left to get, I suppose. The world goes on."

The stranger nodded. "The Bull rose quickly, but it fell just as fast, aided by the Bear and the Colorado River itself."

"I say, bulls and bears?" Codsworth perked up. "What sort of creature are you talking about now?"

"The two-headed bear, the NCR." The stranger raised an eyebrow, sensing his audience was unfamiliar with the acronym. "The New California Republic. The image of the old world, born anew on the other coast, that arose to meet Caesar when he marched west?"

The sole survivor made a face. "New California Republic?"

"Image of the old world?" Codsworth repeated excitedly. "In, eh, in what way?"

"In every way. Progress, politics, destinies and dollars."

"Well that doesn't sound so bad." Codsworth turned to the sole survivor. "I should like to visit this republic someday, if that's alright with you?"

The sole survivor smiled. It wasn't unkind, but it had the ghosts of disappointment and resignation behind it. "Sure, Codsworth. Right after we're done in the Commonwealth."

Curie: "I do not understand," Curie said, furrowing her brow. "To rebuild L'Empire romain, or even to try to do so... this is a step backwards, no?"

The sole survivor and the stranger glanced at each other. Cure shook her head. "But why do this? Where is the sense?"

"Caesar saw strength in it," the stranger replied. "Rome endured, and he wanted the same for his Legion."

Curie looked supremely annoyed. "Strength comes in many, many forms, but ever since I set foot in the wasteland, the only strengths that seem to hold value are military might, and the length of time a thing may last. C'est incroyable. I am... I am sick of it! Adaptation, change, progress of knowledge and learning from past mistakes, where have these all gone?!?"

"You're telling me," the sole survivor agreed, passing her another Nuka-Cola Dark. "Imagine my surprise, leaving the vault after 200-some years."

"Hmph. Imagine mine!"

The stranger's eyes sparked. "If the past world was as well-off as you imply, it's a wonder it ended in fire."

"Oh no, don't put that on me." The sole survivor wagged their finger at him. "Curie here was built for a vault, so she didn't know the pre-war world much, but I spent long enough in it to know the majority of America was swept up in forces they couldn't understand, much less control. I didn't drop the bombs, some well-to-dos in suits did."

"An easy thing said aloud, by someone who escaped the destruction."

Curie frowned at the stranger on the sole survivor's behalf. "You escaped the Legion, Monsieur. Did you also escape the destruction it caused?"

"No."

"Well, then." Curie took a sip of the Nuka-Cola Dark. "If it is a debate of systemic failings you want, we are all more than prepared."

Paladin Danse: The Brotherhood Paladin that accompanied the sole survivor nodded along, recalling what he'd learned about the western chapters of his order and the trouble the Legion's rise had caused them. "I am glad to hear Caesar's government collapsed completely. From what I've heard, he was never sympathetic to the Brotherhood cause. His troops met ours in combat a few times."

"Indeed," the stranger said, in a tone of voice that suggested he might have done more than just hear about the clashes.

"How long ago were you in the Mojave?" Danse pressed. "Do you know if the Brotherhood chapter there is still active?"

"I am unaware of their current activities, but I believe the Knights brought their skills to Hoover Dam, when the time came."

"Outstanding." Danse smiled and sat back on his stool. "It's nice to know that there are people like us out there, wearing the same uniforms and carrying the same purpose - even if they're thousands of miles away."

"Uniforms, perhaps. Purpose?" The stranger shook his head. "The desert Knights vary, in belief and knowledge. Most struggle to hold onto their people, their way of life, as the NCR pours inland and the pull of New Vegas grows stronger. Some dream of things as they once were, speak ill of your Maxson and how he opened his gates to the wasteland. Some don't even know his name, or the name of the one he came from, their own forefather."

That stumped Danse. "They don't know the name of the first Elder? I thought the NCR named a state after him."

"The NCR has much to thank the Maxson line for, but in the end, time can only change a name into a common word. It will happen to their state, as it is happening to your brothers and sisters. They forget their sacred charge, carry out its motions without knowing the reasons, and they die out in their bunkers while history moves on. Like the Legion, their purpose contains a fatal flaw. A dead end, as Caesar used to say."

Danse glowered at him. The sole survivor cleared their throat. "Easy, Paladin. You weren't really expecting to find Brotherhood fans in Goodneighbor, were you?"

Deacon: From behind his sunglasses, Deacon eyed the stranger suspiciously. What he was saying rang of truth, given what he already knew about the Legion, but letting on the fact that he knew anything at all about Caesar or his failed attempt to build an empire might be the wrong move.

He shook his head when Whitechapel Charlie came over to refill their cups, watching the bot take his empty glass away with nonchalance. "Sounds like hell to travel through. Did you run into trouble, coming over to the East Coast?"

"None that you can't find elsewhere." The stranger studied him too, eyes dark and unreadable. He fiddled with the straps of the face mask he'd removed and set on the bar in order to drink. His hands were large, scarred from a lifetime of movement and pain. "Or here, if the things they say about the powers of the Commonwealth are true. Brotherhood, Minutemen, and more. Soldiers and spies... the same battles rage on, East or West."

The sole survivor seemed to have caught on to Deacon's hesitancy, and they drew the attention back to themselves. "Sure. Same shit, different bucket. You do something about it, or you learn to live with it. Like people under the Legion, I guess."

Deacon winced internally, but their careless statement had done the trick. The stranger turned his head on them, lacing his words with ire. "And what is living? The definition changes, if you ask an emperor or a slave. How much choice goes into the act of it? To tread the line of life and survival, to say what must be said to still draw breath, sate hunger, shelter through a storm... sometimes all one can do to resist a force like the Legion is exist, and existence is not enough."

The sole survivor smiled. "No. It isn't. But existence, endurance, in spite of something that wants you in chains or dead is still the first step."

They took a long drink from their glass, sighed, and ran a hand over their face. Deacon knew what they were going to ask, even before they opened their mouth. "Do you know what a synth is?"

Dogmeat: The sole survivor's hand dropped to Dogmeat's head, scratching behind his ear. Dogmeat whuffed softly and leaned into the attention.

"I'm sorry," the sole survivor said to the stranger who smelled of fire and sand, anger and regret.

The stranger closed his eyes for a moment. "There is nothing to apologize for. All of it belongs to history, now."

"Trust me, I know." The sole survivor finished patting Dogmeat and accepted a new drink from Whitechapel Charlie. "Everything that I used to be is history now, and ancient history at that. But I'm living proof the pain's still there. Known or unknown. So I'm sorry about what happened to you, and everyone else the Legion took."

It was a long time before the stranger answered them. The two sat there drinking in silence, staring at the bottles behind the counter and listening to Magnolia's song. It was a sad one, some Buddy Holly cover about rain and the misery of a broken heart, and it seemed both appropriate and wildly unmatched for the two figures grieving destroyed futures at the bar.

"Thank you," the stranger said, when the song was finished.

The sole survivor stood. Dogmeat rose immediately and looked up at them, ready to go.

"I'm glad I met you," the sole survivor said, extending a hand to their drinking companion. "If you ever want to stop looking for what you lost, come visit Sanctuary. I'm there now, most days."

Mayor John Hancock: "Damn shame." Hancock threw back one of the shots that Whitechapel Charlie had just delivered. "Then again, he sounds like some of the people I murdered in order to become the mayor. Either way, we drink."

The sole survivor raised their own shot, but the stranger declined. "Slower," he said, by way of explanation.

"Sure, sure, take it easy." Hancock winked at him. "Got all the time in the world, now that you're not fighting for some asshole who wants to dress up as a historical figure. Who does something like that?"

The sole survivor broke down laughing, and Hancock threw an arm around them and joined in. The hint of a smile played around the stranger's lips, but he remained silent and observant.

"So." Hancock slammed his shot glass onto the bar again. "Why are you here, now? Joining the Brotherhood, the Minutemen? Or just looking for work? You're welcome to use the VIP room, if you're lining up customers as a hired gun... or maybe something else?"

The stranger ignored his suggestive eyebrow waggle. "Walking roads not yet traveled."

"Taking in the sights, or something more specific?"

"Both. Neither. The journey is the destination."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, a poet." Hancock rolled his eyes. "You must be pretty good with that rifle on your back, if you can wander wherever you like and write songs about it, to boot."

"Not songs." The stranger's eyes gleamed. "Histories."

"Histories. My bad." The mayor of Goodneighbor grinned. "Enough about the Legion. How's New Vegas doing, these days? I've heard some wild stories from pre-war friends."

Robert Joseph MacCready: MacCready had gone rather pale as the stranger told his story, and the sole survivor turned to him in concern. "You okay?"

"Fine," he said, a little too quickly. "Er. Yeah. I'm okay."

"You're not."

"Uhh..." MacCready glanced at the stranger, then at the sole survivor. "It's just... it reminds me a little too much of the Capital Wasteland."

"I thought they'd stamped out slavery in the Capital Wasteland," the sole survivor said in alarm.

"Yeah, for the most part, but that's not what I mean." MacCready swallowed another gulp of his beer. "It's... the Brotherhood. I know, they're not trying to be Rome or whatever, but everything revolves around them, even if you've got nothing to do with the Citadel or Adams. They take what they want, and they use it to make themselves stronger."

"Slavery to a cause, a banner, without the collars." The stranger nodded. "No need for collars, if they write the histories themselves. No room for what might have been, what still might be... and the bull charges on."

"Gears," MacCready corrected him. "And swords."

"Putting a bull on their power armor might be a bit too on the nose," the sole survivor mused. "Then again, gears and swords aren't particularly subtle, either."

"Is that what brought you to the cradle of liberty?" the stranger asked MacCready. "Running from your own bull, mercenary? Or maybe some other bull, a greener one, that leaves skulls in its wake?"

MacCready wouldn't meet his burning eyes. "Let's change the subject," he said.

Nick Valentine: Nick Valentine sighed heavily. "'To ravage, to slaughter, to usurp under false titles, they call empire, and where they make a desert, they call it peace.' Though I guess the desert was there already."

The stranger inclined his head. "And it remains."

"How'd you get out?" Nick asked. "By your own will, or circumstance?"

The man at the bar thought for a moment. "Both. Neither. Fortune and finesse often have ways of intertwining."

"Don't I know it." Nick accepted the new beer that Whitechapel Charlie had brought him and raised it up. "Here's to you and anyone else lucky enough to get out of that situation with their lives. From one runaway to another."

The stranger and the sole survivor raised their drinks in kind, and all three drank deeply.

Piper Wright: "This is gold." Piper was already a few pages deep in her ever-present notepad, scribbling furiously. "We rarely get visitors from the West Coast, traveling through all that territory in between... well you know, you made the trip."

The stranger eyed her notes with an unmistakable expression of mistrust. Piper chuckled nervously and tapped her pencil against the notepad's spiral. "Sorry. Force of habit. Is... is it okay if I log this? Just for my newspaper's files. I'm not going to write an article about you, or anything. Unless you want me to."

The sole survivor chuckled and shook their head. "She's harmless," they reassured the stranger. "Unless she thinks you're dangerous."

The stranger half-turned on his stool. His eyes swept across the room, lingering on the usual figures of Triggermen, mercenaries, wasteland wanderers and midnight revelers, all bearing scars from old battles. All armed to the teeth. Piper caught his meaning and smiled. "Dangerous beyond the norm," she clarified.

"Have to do better than that." The stranger shook his head. "Caesar and his Legion were dangerous, if you talked to the NCR... the raiders... the slaves. But ask the trade caravans who walked its roads, and they'd sing songs of praise. Ask the men who rose in its ranks, who carried its flag to Hoover Dam, of the glory they found. They'd tell you that the danger Caesar spread was merely the threat of change, on the horizon of the Bear's empire. Danger to some, but not to all."

"Yep, same thing the Brotherhood says if you ask them politely not to take your tato crop." Piper screwed up her mouth in thought, before nodding decisively. "I'd like to interview you. Properly. Feel like visiting my office in Diamond City?"

Rather than answer, the stranger finished his drink. He stood, adjusted the strap of his rifle, and let his braids fall in his face as he headed for the exit. Piper scrambled after him, and the sole survivor could make out her excited questions echoing all the way up the subway's stairwell.

Preston Garvey: Preston sighed and removed his hat. "I suppose Rome was around for a long time, but still... not the period of history I would have started trying to rebuild."

"Nah." The sole survivor nudged his arm playfully. "You're more of an American Revolutionary War buff."

Preston blushed a little and put his hat back on. "Seemed more useful, I guess. I didn't come up with it."

"But you kept it going." The sole survivor smiled at him, then turned back to the stranger. "Ever heard of the Minutemen?"

The man across from them inclined his head. "Heard of their strength, and how it waned. Heard of the fort's fall, of a massacre, of a march to Sanctuary."

The sole survivor and Preston glanced at each other. "So you've been in the Commonwealth before?" Preston asked. "I didn't think all of that was common knowledge, outside of the Boston ruins."

"Used to seek the uncommon out," the stranger offered.

"Uh-huh." The sole survivor took a deep breath and blew it out fast, mildly suspicious. "You never said what your job was, in the Legion. Intelligence, I'm guessing?"

The stranger's response was dull, the words heavy on his tongue. "Action. Movement. Shaping roads in darkness, for armies in the sun."

Both Preston and the sole survivor had their hackles up, now. Preston's hand twitched, and his eyes flickered between the man at the bar and the Minutemen general.

The sole survivor's next question was in a lower voice, under the music and bustle of the bar. "So what brought you here?"

The stranger considered his drink. When he finally answered, it was with a longing that Preston felt with his entire being, an emptiness that he sometimes found in himself, after Quincy. "Searching for a new nation. Looking for the sun."

Strong: "Not strong," Strong pronounced the men who had failed to coalesce after Caesar's death.

"Sounds like they were strong enough to cause trouble for a while, though," the sole survivor pointed out.

Strong shook his head. "Super mutant leaders strong in two ways. First way, strong."

He raised his arm suddenly and curled it, causing a few of the Third Rail customers nearby to flinch. The stranger didn't flinch, but he eyed the super mutant with wary interest.

"No strong, no leader." Strong flexed his bicep a few times before nodding. He let his arm fall again, and slapped the center of his chest decisively. "Second way, strong. No strong, no leader."

The sole survivor's gaze turned back to the stranger. "Does that about cover it? No one with the muscles or the heart to take charge, after Caesar died?"

"More to it than that."

Strong snorted. "Boring. Strong or not strong. Nothing else."

Slowly, the stranger nodded. A peculiar look came over his face. "Nothing else."

X6-88: X6-88 took the new information in silently, watching the stranger. The sole survivor had a penchant for approaching the most dangerous person in the room and attempting to befriend them, and more often than not, X6-88 felt nothing beyond mild annoyance at what second-rate raiders passed for menacing in the wasteland. But this man was different. Each new observation the Courser made was raising alarm bells. Scars over scars, jagged lightning across the man's muscled arms. The hard line of his mouth, which was only revealed from behind a breathing mask after purchasing a drink. The worn marks on the weapons he carried openly, indicating practice and familiarity. The weapons he was hiding, inside his long coat, boots, belt. The measured movements of his hands. The impassive light in his eyes.

Indeed, throughout his discussion with the sole survivor, the stranger kept looking the Courser over in turn, perhaps calculating what sort of threat he might pose. X6-88 hoped that his outfit, general demeanor, and refusal to participate in the discussion were enough to dissuade the stranger from any plans that might harm the one he protected.

By now, the sole survivor had tried to draw X6-88 into the conversation a few times, and was increasingly vexed each time he gave a one-word answer. "He's not going to shoot me at the bar," they said finally, gesturing at the man they had singled out. "He'd never make it out of here."

"I would," the stranger corrected them, without missing a beat.

X6-88 put his hand on his laser rifle. "You wouldn't."

And of course, the sole survivor set about scolding both of them for getting riled up over nothing, but over their protestations the two men continued to stare each other down. X6-88 was the only one who saw the stranger give him the slightest of nods. It could have been either a challenge or an indication of respect.

X6-88 did not return the nod.

BONUS!

Ada: "The western caravan companies must be in disarray," Ada surmised, shifting the weight of her protectron frame in a robotic show of interest. "Regime collapse tends to stall trade."

"No more than war," the sole survivor guessed.

"War can be good for trade," Ada corrected them. "Demand goes up for weapons, ammunition, supplies to feed armies..."

"Armies that are willing to pay." The stranger looked the robot over with mild interest. "Caesar took what he wished, if he was able."

"There must have been things he couldn't seize through conquest," Ada replied politely. "The last time I was in the Mojave, his movement had stalled at Hoover Dam. If he didn't control the dam, he must have been in need of electricity, which requires parts and manpower to generate and maintain."

"Lines from Kingman," the man answered, with a faraway look in his eye. "Poles marching north from solar panels, 80 miles along the 93. Salvage purchased or taken from the Mojave itself, dragged south by caravans and slaves. The Legates nailed an NCR captive to every other pole. Left them in the sun to dry. Said they would connect them to the dam itself, then New Vegas, until the line held every NCR soldier from Arizona to the sea."

He fell silent, and so did Ada and the sole survivor. While the latter started in on their drink with relish, Ada shook her assaultron head. "Shall we change the subject?"

Porter Gage: "Sounds like a few I've followed, over the years," Gage admitted. "No plan for what's next, when your number comes up. Course, most don't make it far enough to plan in the first place."

He raised his glass to the sole survivor and smirked. "Do better, Overboss. Watch your back."

The sole survivor rolled their eyes, but they drank as well. The stranger's glass remained untouched, his features hard and unreadable.

"So what brings you east?" Gage probed. "Looking for a new flag to follow? Or are you done with all that, going it alone? Could always use new guns at Nuka-World, if you're looking for work."

The stranger shook his head, and his braids swayed gently. "Not sure what I'm looking for, now, but I won't find it at Nuka-World."

"Come on, won't know until you come through."

This earned the old raider a look so cold that he forgot what sorts of attractions he'd been meaning to highlight at the old theme park. The sole survivor caught Gage's tongue-tied state and chuckled. "Leave off. He's got places to be that aren't covered in tonic residue and nukalurks."

Old Longfellow: Old Longfellow grunted his distaste for the subject matter. "Just another one."

The sole survivor and the stranger eyed him curiously. "Another what?" the sole survivor asked.

"Another man in costume, saying he's got answers." Longfellow shook his head and reached for the bottle of liquor that Whitechapel Charlie had left him. "And none to be found. Fog, sand, Atom or Rome... all the same."

He swallowed a gulp that was a little larger than he'd meant to and fell to coughing. The sole survivor slapped him on the back until he quieted, but Longfellow heard their sigh under his hacking outburst. Sorrow, maybe. Exasperation, more like.

The stranger, for his part, seemed like he was considering the old man's words. Longfellow didn't know if the Children of Atom had any churches in the Mojave, but if it meant that someone else thought harder before joining that radiation-worshipping cult, all the better.

Elder Arthur Maxson: "And Caesar's empire will not be missed." Maxson nodded decisively. "Its disruption of communities and widespread cruelty were renowned across the western deserts, even beyond Arizona and the Mojave."

"Cruelty. Hm." The stranger soberly studied the Elder. "There was no shortage of cruelty in the Legion, but their cruelty was only one tool in their arsenal. There are other ways to break a nation... break any hope of a future. To grasp at power. Isolation. Rhetoric. To put oneself on a pedestal."

Maxson caught the man's drift and glared over the rim of his drink. "Say what you wish to, traveler. Plainly, if you can."

"Easy," the sole survivor warned. "If Hancock has to throw us out again, he might-"

The stranger rose to the challenge, but unlike the Elder, his eyes weren't sparkling with the thrill of it. He looked just as tired as he had when he'd first entered the bar. "An ideal. Lost to time, most can see, but others refuse to let go of. Not a road the Legion is alone on, in this wasteland."

"You would equate my order with a kingdom of slaves?" Maxson slammed his glass down on the bar and pulled himself up to his full height. "The average wastelander might not grasp your veiled insults-"

The sole survivor rolled their eyes. "Oh, for fuck's sake-"

"-but I know full well when someone is trying to-"

"Oi!" Whitechapel Charlie floated over, managing to make every one of his three eyes look cross. "Put a cork in it, or I'll call Ham down here for housekeeping. I don't care if you're the queen herself."

Desdemona: Desdemona's eyes narrowed. "What did you say your name was, again?"

"I didn't."

"My mistake, then." Desdemona smiled slowly, as if she'd plucked her answer from the stranger's very gaze. The two shadowy figures sized each other up, while the sole survivor looked between them with growing unease.

The stranger spoke first. "Heard tell of trains that run the length of the East Coast, bringing passengers by the handful out of one darkness and into another. Slaves of many flags walking the tracks, taking their chances elsewhere."

"We've all heard the stories," Desdemona agreed, sitting back in her chair. "I even heard some about a courier that came looking for those trains, and how he wanted to pull some passengers back into the nightmares they were running from. A courier with a flag of his own."

"I'm not following," the sole survivor muttered.

"I heard his flag changed, even before the bull was slain." The stranger seized his drink and stared into it.

Desdemona crossed her arms. "I heard otherwise."

"There may be truth there." The stranger took a long swallow from his glass and looked away, over the bar toward the neon signs that Whitechapel Charlie hadn't dusted in some time. "The flag, the uniform, even the skin may change, but who knows if the man beneath them has? He may not even know, himself."

"And that's his own business." Desdemona shook her head. "The rest of the world can't afford to assume good intentions anymore."

The sole survivor pushed their stool back and stood. "Okay, my head hurts. I'll be in the VIP room begging Hancock for Mentats if you need me."

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fnv #fallout 4 #fo4 #sole survivor #companions react #caesar's legion #surprise #it's also ulysses content #lonesome road #12 days of ficmas

150 notes · View notes

fallout-friends-react · 1 year

Note

.. would yes man get jealous of other bits of technology if the courier used it too often? Like, if Six found a pre-war phone and it worked somehow, and carried it around everywhere like we do now, would yes man get jealous? Pls pls pls give your thoughts and headcannons on this

Do not get Yes Man started on that damned pip-boy. What's the big draw? Yes Man can do way more things than it can, like talk.. and move.. and a ton of other things. Yet all the Courier does for hours a day is look at that pip-boy. The only time they don't wear it is when they bathe. During that brief moment of opportunity, Yes Man will hold the pip-boy up to his screen face, which isn't even where his sensors are. There's no visible action that he's doing, but probably some. electric. scanning thing. Something that definitely involves 1s and 0s.

Yes Man knows he can't actually feel jealousy, but he knows the definition of the word. His inexplicable actions seem like they would fit under the "jealousy" category. The Courier teaches him new things every day!

#fallout #fallout new vegas #new vegas #Yes Man #fallout companions react

77 notes · View notes

danses-with-dogmeat · 2 years

Note

I just have to ask you for a few characters 👉👈 Porter Gage, Hancock, Raul, Charon and Gob ack don't call me out for my ghoul loving ass just getting showered in praise. I just feel the ghouls don't GET enough lovin', they are all wonderful, handsome and great men.

Porter Gage is the odd one out because I just love that raider man and been playing Nuka World recently-

Select FO Companions React to Sole/Lone/Six Giving them Praise

I'm back!! Oof, so I've officially finished moving and unpacking and all that junk, and I'm ready to get back to the important things lol. Alrighty, so just an update, I've decided to just get back to regular posting. I only had a few more for the 1k event to do, but I knew it would take another few days to get to if they were going to be any good 😅 So, I apologize if I didn't get to yours, but I'm SO thankful for all of you who participated, it was such a blast, and I hope to do more events like it in the future 😊

Anyways, now, let's get back to it! (Also, just one more reminder that requests are closed for the time being so I can catch up on the ones I have now, but I will let you know when they open back up!)

ALRIGHT, so now to the actual post. This is so sweet, omg! 😩 These guys all really do deserve more loving, like... Always. As usual, let me know if you wanna see anyone else for this at all! Cuz goodness knows there are plenty of Fallout folks that deserve to hear a compliment or two much more often.

Included Below: Charon, Gage, Gob, Hancock, Joshua, & Raul

Also, just a heads up, this isn't explicit, per say, but it does get kinda steamy in some places, so just a little NSFW warning for ya. 😉

I hope you enjoy!

Charon:

“Oh my god.” Lone’s mouth hung open as Charon stepped down the stairs and towards the living room.

“What?” He paused his movement, brow scrunching more than usual as he looked down over himself to see if anything was amiss.

They only shook their head at first, finally managing to close their mouth to gulp before they began to answer him verbally.

“Look, I know you just, like, just put on the armor and everything, but Charon, I think… I think you’re gonna have to take it off.”

Lone’s eyes drifted hungirly over the ghoul’s large frame, the way the dark, freshly polished leather clung to his muscular form forcing a blushing heat to flush over their face.

He only scoffed at them, continuing his descent into the room to drop his bag by the door. Lone stood up abruptly from their place on the couch and turned to face their partner with a hard expression on their face.

“What? I’m not allowed to be attracted to my boyfriend?” Their hands came to their hips as their voice took on a distinct hardness that he was always trying to avoid.

That’s never a good sign. Charon thought with a frown.

“No need to act for my benefit.” He grumbled, “I’ve seen myself, Lone.”

He tried not to notice the way his partner flinched at his words.

They can’t be serious, what delusions do they think I’m under?

“Clearly not the way I have, then.” They said firmly as they took a step closer. Charon stood his ground as Lone approached him with slow intent, something unknown to him written in their expression.

“Forget what I said,” they continued, “No need to take off your armor.” He set his jaw as they gazed up at him, their hands brushing up over the leather on his chest until their fingertips grazed the skin of his neck.

“I’ll just do it for you.” They began to work at the fastenings of his armor, the metal buckles glinting in the low light that streamed through the meager windows of their Megaton house.

“Lone…”

“I want to show you. If you won’t listen to what I say, maybe what I do will have some influence on you.” Charon made no move to assist them as they began to pull the leather cuirass over his head, undoing the laces at his sides before reaching up as far as their arms would take them, the collar of the armor failing to come any further up than his jawline as they strained on their tiptoes. The ghoul sighed, ducking down to allow them to finally wrench the leather free of his bulky frame.

They set the piece on the couch with a huff, and despite his reservations, Charon took a few steps closer to them, his icy stare boring into his partner as they turned and knelt alluringly before him, their hands grazing up over his thighs as they moved to his center.

“Do you want this?” Lone brought their gaze up to him, fixing their partner with hooded eyes darkened with their lust for him, as their fingers rested delicately over his leather codpiece. Charon hardly had to think before responding hastily.

“Yes." He growled, "Show me.”

A relieved smile touched their lips, and they quickly turned their attention back to their work below his waist.

The ghoul's chest shuddered with anticipation as he felt the pressure release around his hips, fighting to hold back a groan as Lone meticulously removed each piece of polished leather he’d fastened onto himself not half an hour ago. When he was freed of his armor fully, standing before his partner in loose-fitting trousers and a black crew neck, Lone looked him over quickly from head to toe before descending upon him, delicate fingers moving hastily to pull his shirt from his sculpted torso.

This time, Charon did assist, lifting his arms and practically ripping the thing at the seams as he brought it over his head. Despite both of their haste, once he was free of the shirt, Lone paused, the palms of their hands warm against his chest where they rested with their fingers splayed, grasping slightly at the taut skin there. Their hands rose and fell with the rhythm of his breathing, noticeably faster than usual, as his anticipation grew.

“You’re so handsome…” They let slip. It wasn’t more than a whisper, and Charon wasn’t sure whether they’d meant to say it aloud at all, but it escaped them nonetheless, as their transfixed stare grazed over his semi-bare form.

Whether they meant to voice the compliment or not, their words took Charon out of the moment, his smoky gaze sharpening within the confines of his narrowed eyes. He even let out another snort of disbelief that managed to catch Lone’s attention and draw their gaze to meet his own.

“Sorry, I just… I do mean it though. Not everyone may feel similarly, including yourself, and I don’t know that I can ever really change that, but Charon… I see you that way. The way you can’t seem to.”

Lone’s voice became desperate as their gaze fell to capture the movement of their fingers fidgeting over his skin, the digits absent-mindedly tracing over the rough grooves upon his ravaged chest with absolute care.

“It’s no lie, either." They whispered, "Not me trying to convince you otherwise, or make you feel better– well, if it makes you feel good, that’s good, and I want that, but that’s not the only thing I’m trying to do by saying– or, by complimenting you, I want you to–”

“Lone.”

One of Charon’s large hands closed around his partner’s shoulder, forcing their restless hands to cease their frenzied rubbing over him, and silencing Lone’s fragmented explanations.

Their eyes met his once more, glistening orbs of earnestness and desperation against cold, dark windows reflecting back their own form of desperation in turn.

Enough. He meant to say, but the vault dweller’s stubbornness in this matter left him no room to voice his concerns with their speech.

“Charon.” They said firmly, “Please don’t. Don’t shut out what I’m telling you. Even if you can never believe what I say for yourself, know that I believe it. I’m mad for you. All of you.”

Their voice lowered an octave at their final confession, and Lone surged forward, their hands grasping forcefully at his shoulders, and pulling his lips to theirs as they tasted him in earnest. Charon meant to say their name again, but all that escaped him was a groan as they crashed against him, the firmness of their insistent pressure a stark contrast from the pillowy softness of their lips.

They pulled away breathlessly before quickly moving their lips lower, the smooth petals of their mouth tickling against the sensitive skin of his neck, his collarbone, and chest.

“I’m mad for this.” They growled between fevered pecks, “And this, and here. All of it.”

Like the volts of a live wire, violent shudders shocked the ghoul’s spine as Lone’s lips and tongue delved lower, hastily passing over his ribcage, their nose tracing a teasing line down his center as they knelt down and settled their attentions just at his naval, hungry fingers finally releasing the pressure exerted on him by his own damned zipper, and the painfully tight fabric of his briefs.

“I’ll show you, my love. I’ll convince you to see yourself like I do. Whatever it takes.” They promised, and Charon’s neck arched as his head hung back in sheer bliss at their next heated action.

“Show me.” He groaned.

Gage:

“Will you cut that shit out? S’not funny, boss.”

“No, Gage. I really do. I know it’s not funny, I’m not fucking joking." Their eyes bore into his as they tilted their head towards him, their voice as desperate as it was irate, "I honestly don’t care about that patch, or how old you are, how bad you think you are, any of it. You’re good for me. You’re incredible. You're strong, and dependable, you make me smile and laugh, and–”

“Yeah, alright, I think you’ve had enough of that.”

One rough hand reached out to grab at the bottle in Sole’s hand, but they snatched it away before he could pull it from their grasp.

“Quit it, Gage! I’m your Overboss, and that’s an order. Now let me finish.”

Gage huffed and rolled his good eye, folding his arms over themselves gruffly as he leaned back against the worn couch cushions. Sole only shook their head, setting their bottle down on the side table and scooting closer to the raider. They placed a hand on his thigh and fixed him with an uncanny sort of look, depleted of their frustration with him, and full of something else entirely. Their muted smile and the gleam in their eyes made for an expression he’d only ever seen reserved for family members, for the closest of friends, or for… for lovers. His own eye narrowed suspiciously.

I know we’re together ‘n all, but… When has anyone looked at me that way before?

Whatever, must be whatever’s in that drink of theirs.

“Well, get on with it then, since you made such a fuckin’ fuss.” He growled. Sole only broadened their smile softly, their one hand increasing its pressure on his leg as they scooched even closer to him. Gage felt the heat of their body through the thin fabric of his trousers and wife-beater as they pressed closer to him, their free hand sliding up the swell of his chest to rest heavily on his shoulder as their lips met his in a brief kiss.

Gage only had an instant to close his eye, to savor them, before they withdrew, just far enough that the pair's contact was severed, but close enough still, that he could make out the distinct and enticing glisten of their lips.

“You really don’t see it, do you?”

“What’s that?” He breathed.

“How much I care about you. How good you are for me. How attractive I find you. Even when I try to tell you.”

Sole’s hand moved downward to brush over his chest, feeling the play of muscle beneath his thin shirt as he threw his head back in a barely contained scoff.

“Yeah, alright there, Sole. Look, don’t feel like you’ve gotta say all this shit for my benefit. I’m a damn raider, I don’t need t’hear all that flowery, romantic sorta bullshit. I’m a sure thing, boss. I’m easy.”

As if to emphasize his point, one hand moved lower to grasp around the swell of Sole's hip firmly, pulling them closer, even as their expression hardened.

“You shouldn’t be.” They said firmly, their hand stilling over him.

Gage’s brow creased low over his eye as Sole pulled away from him roughly.

“You deserve a lot more than you give yourself credit for," they continued, "I don’t care what you think. You gave me a chance when no one else would. You've always got my back, you support me like nobody else has, and dammit, you deserve that same kind of dedication, Gage.”

His eye widened at their words, and the raider found himself at a loss for any kind of response.

I’m really not used to this kinda shit. What am I supposed to say to that?

Sole sighed at him, a sad smile touching their lips as they hesitantly reached both hands up to his face. Gage had to stop himself from flinching at their tender touch, but they held fast, palms warm against his cheeks as their eyes pleaded with him to just fucking believe what they told him.

Gage swallowed.

Slowly, their hands moved, and their fingers worked their way to the metal secured to his head, fidgeting with the fastenings there until he felt the entire piece loosen and give way.

“Sole, I don’t think–” He tried, but they silenced him with a look and a whisper.

“It’s okay. I want to see you.”

Gage took in a breath.

No. You don’t.

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

He shook his head slightly, and Sole finally pulled the patch from his skin, and set it on the couch beside them. Gage’s jaw clenched as he flinched away, and his gaze flitted to everywhere but Sole, unnervingly afraid to see the repulsion on their face.

He felt their hands on him again, the soft skin caressing his cheeks, and he fought the urge to pull away as his heart increased its thumping in his chest. Gage closed his good eye, trying to turn his marred face away from his partner’s scrutinizing gaze, but their hands held his head firmly in place.

A brief moment of silence passed before Gage found himself jerking away involuntarily as the feeling of Sole’s… lips? He guessed, ghosted over the scarred flesh of his newly uncovered cheekbone.

“I meant what I said.” Their warm breath caressed his face as they spoke. “It’s not bullshit, and it’s not a lie.”

He released a sigh as he opened his good eye once again, the resistance and disbelief effectively gone from his exposed expression, if only just for this moment.

“I really do, Gage. I love you. And I love all of you.”

Gob:

“What do you mean?”

Gob paused, Lone’s voice clearly meeting his ears as he stepped outside the back door of Moriarty’s Saloon with two heavy trash bags in hand.

“Look hon, I’m not trying to be rude or anything, I’m just curious, that’s all.” The scent of cigarette smoke and cheap perfume drifted through the ghoul’s meager nose, even from where he stood behind the building, he knew it was Nova that Lone was speaking with.

Something in his head told him he should go out to greet them, but a gut feeling held him back, keeping him in place as he slowly set down the garbage bags and continued to listen in.

“It’s just that, well, Gob an’ me have been real close for a long time,” Nova’s silky voice continued, “An’ I’ve met lotsa folks you couldn't believe. Look at him like he’s some kinda novelty or somethin’, like the scumbags who look at me like a juicy slice of brahmin. I just wanna be sure you ain’t one of ‘em.”

The ghoul’s eyes widened as he listened in, his grip tightening on the metal jutting from the side of the building as he awaited Lone’s response.

Do I even really wanna hear it? A small voice asked in the back of his mind, but he pushed it away, instead leaning forward to hear what his partner had to say.

“You really think I could be like that?” Panic tightened their voice as it left their throat, less accusatory, and more fraught with worry than he would’ve expected. “Gob doesn’t think that way, does he?”

“No.” He whispered, shaking his head despite the fact that he was as good as alone on this side of the saloon.

“Nah, I don’t think so. Gob would never see the bad in you. That’s what he’s gotta have me for. Too many people try to take advantage of the poor guy. Like he hasn’t been through enough.”

He smiled sadly at that, silently thanking whoever it was in charge of his fate that he met Nova. Without her, well… Moriarty’s would’ve been all the more unbearable. He's not sure he would've made it this far without her, and now, if he didn't have Lone, if he somehow lost them...

Don't wanna even think about that. Maybe I should stop listenin' in, in case... What if they--

“I know.” Lone said, almost too quiet for him to hear, but loud enough to pull him from his troubling thoughts, “It’s true. Everything Gob’s been through… That’s one of the things that drew me to him from the start. All that Moriarty’s done to be cruel, to make his life hell, and he’s still so kind, so sweet and genuine.”

“Hm.” He heard his friend hum with approval at Lone’s declaration, and something tightened deep in Gob’s chest.

He held his breath as his partner's voice carried on.

“And so incredibly strong, to persevere through all of this, all that he’s been through for his long life, with Underworld, leaving it all behind and then coming to this, only to end up here. Still, selfish as it is, I'm glad he is here now. If I hadn't met him, I don't..."

Gob heard them chuckle, more a nervous sound then an amused one.

"I really don't want to think what it'd be like if I didn't have him, y'know? He really is incredible. One-of-a-kind out here, and in the vault. I’ve never met anyone like him.”

“You’re smiling real big when you talk about him, you know that?”

Gob grinned himself as he heard Lone’s giggle echo down into the town, the lovely sound fading with a sigh from them and a moment of silence that had Gob leaning in even further, very nearly exposing his hiding spot to the pair as his anticipation grew.

“... Well, what can I say? I love him.”

Gob's breath caught in his throat, and he tried desperately to keep from choking as his grip on the side of the building tightened painfully, his bony fingers digging into the metal with such force, he was liable to bend it.

Nova whistled long and low at that, the butt of her cigarette flying off the balcony as she turned to face Lone, and Gob shifted hastily back against the building once more, hoping he was still concealed.

“That’s quite the declaration there, hon. You tell him that?”

“Well, no, not quite… But I plan to, and soon, I think.”

“Hm. Just be careful. Dangerous thing to tell a man.” The door to the saloon creaked open as the sound of Nova’s voice shifted, “Though actually, since it’s Gob, I take it back. Lord knows he needs to hear that more than most. And from you? Poor guy won’t know what to do with himself.”

Lone laughed again, more genuine this time, less embarrassed, and Gob’s heart thudded hard against his ribcage, a feeling of chills erupting over his ruined skin as he tried in vain to keep his labored breathing quiet.

The door to the bar slammed to a close, jolting the wall Gob was still leaning against.

But he hardly even felt it.

They love me? Love?! H-how.. How can they? Why?

How could he possibly pretend he didn’t know what they’d said when he saw them next? Even now, he found it impossible to contain himself, his entire body vibrating with a giddy energy he didn’t even know he was capable of possessing.

Lone loves me.

Gob stood shakily from where he was kneeling beside the saloon, his mind going into overdrive as he realized Nova, and soon enough, Lone, would notice his absence in the bar. He turned back to the garbage bags, reaching for one as he took a step forward, but his foot caught on the first step up to the back door, and he fell forward, cringing less at the pain and more at the loud clang that rang out over the town as the better part of his body crashed into the metal building.

“Aw, dammit.” He grumbled, glancing over his shoulder rapidly in search of Lone.

The ghoul held still a moment, sighing in relief when he didn’t hear a sound beyond his own breathing. He stood up and brushed himself off brusquely.

Still need to get in there quick.

“Gob? What are you– Oh, are you okay?”

The ghoul’s blood ran cold.

“F-fine, Lone, I just– um…” He stuttered out as he turned to face them with a nervous smile.

Dammit, I was right.

The ghoul’s mouth refused to cooperate as his thoughts scattered in every direction at the sight of his partner.

Of the one who loved him.

He gulped.

“You didn’t hit your head, did you?” They asked, reaching a hand out as if to brush it over his head, but he shook his head firmly, stalling their movement.

“You look so… So red… Are you sure you’re not hurt?” He nodded to them, willing his body to cool down, willing his tongue to untangle, willing himself to meet their eyes, but he simply couldn’t.

“A-are you blushing? Sweetie, I didn’t know you could blush. What’s going on?”

Finally their hand met his face, and the world seemed to quit its confusing spinning, his heart stilled its frantic pounding, and he could finally meet their concerned gaze. His eyes were apologetic as he looked at them, swallowing hard as a few fragmented words began to creep into his mind.

“O-oh. Oh no.” Lone’s eyes widened, and Gob didn’t have to say a word. “No, you didn’t! Tell me you didn’t… You heard it?! How much did you hear?”

They pulled their hand away from him, their voice desperate and loud as they questioned him with panic etched all over their face.

Gob tried to stay calm, his skin feeling warmer than coals as the words of explanation formed on his tongue.

What if that does it? What if this is it? What if I just ruined this?

“Not, well, I don’t think, I just–” He stuttered out awkwardly, willing his voice not to crack with the fear he felt bubbling up in his chest, “Well, I don’t think that I heard all of it, but… Yeah, I did, ah, I heard that last part.” Gob’s head hung low at the end of his confession, as he saw the disappointment in Lone’s eyes.

Had they ever really planned on telling me? Were they just saying that to Nova, to make her feel better? Did they really even mean it?

“I’m so sorry, Lone.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” They told him gently, and he raised his eyes hesitantly to meet theirs.

“I just… I wish I could’ve told you in a different way. Made it really special.”

“It was. Lone, honey, it was special.” He said quickly, both of his hands reaching out to grasp one of Lone’s, before he even realized he was doing it.

“It means the world to me. Nobody’s ever- I mean, I haven’t ever- I just…” Their eyes shone as they waited for him to finish, and Gob took a deep breath.

“Lone,” He whispered, “I feel the same way.”

Hancock:

“Your eyes, John…”

“Hm?”

“Your eyes… They are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Hancock smiled as his partner looked on, reverent in the haze of the Day Tripper they’d taken. They leaned forward from where they were seated, practically in his lap, with one hand against his chest, and fixed him with their appreciative, half-lidded gaze.

“My eyes are black, Sunshine.” He pecked their nose with his meager lips, taking full advantage of their close proximity to him. “And not kill the vibe or anything, but I think you’ve had enough of these for today.” His hand gently pulled the Day Tripper bottle away from their grasp, but his partner hardly seemed to notice.

“They are not ‘black’ in that dismissive way you just said they are." They pouted, "Your eyes… They don’t have color, really, but they have depth. Texture.”

“Uh huh.” Hancock tried to withhold the broad, toothy grin that threatened to spread across his lips as Sole looked at him in complete seriousness.

Damn, they’re cute.

He raised a hand to the side of their face, caressing it lovingly as one thumb stroked over the soft swell of their cheek.

But should I really have let them take two of those pills? Hm.

“They’re like space." Sole continued, one hand waving dramatically towards the sky at their declaration.

"Like galaxies and nebulae and a trillion twinkling stars. All wrapped up in a velvety, dark blanket. Not black, but like an inky fabric draping over itself, light catching at each fold, every angle. Full of life, and light, and emotion, and truth.”

“Sunshine, I don’t think–”

“Shhh.” They brought a finger to his ruined lips, nose nearly grazing the crevice where his once was as they leaned forward with a whisper. “Don’t interrupt, love.” Their lips followed the lead of their finger, brushing his in a light kiss before they pulled back again.

“I’m not nearly finished.”

Hancock’s apparently mesmerizing eyes widened as they fixed him with a scrutinizing gaze, blown-out pupils sliding their hazy vision over every line of his face, every wrinkle and fold, each scar, and all the complexities of his multi-colored complexion.

Though, as Hancock was much unused to, there was no judgment in their scrutiny. No disgust, no flinching or cringing, not even some morbid kinda curiosity he tended to see in some.

His face couldn’t be chalked up to mere flesh and blood in their eyes. They didn’t see the lines as he did. It was less of a physical entity, and more a mosaic of his person. His character.

In everything, Sole saw the way he had smiled all his life, the way he had frowned, all the speeches he’s given, the manner in which he once combed his hair, and in the way he moved differently once it was all gone.

Sole saw his childhood, the closeness with his family, and then the heart-wrenching pain as they were pulled away from him and made estranged. They could see the years of relentless abuse he’d wrought upon himself, before becoming who he was today. In the emotion written in his scars, they could see his failures, and in the glimmer of his eyes, his successes, and they told him as much.

All of it they said, not with so many words, as they formed and flitted away before their lips had a chance to speak them, but they spoke with their eyes, with their own emotion Hancock couldn’t help but read too deeply into. The intensity of it all forced his hand, inspired his mind to draw connections from nearly nothing at all. The dense subtleties and micro expressions any sane person may have failed to read into, but Hancock wasn’t sane.

He was in love.

And they were too. Of that, the ghoul had no doubt at all. He wasn’t even sure if he’d known that before this very moment. Sole had told him before, sure, but never like this. Saying everything without a voice to back it. The most honest of confessions, and he couldn’t help but confess right back.

“Damn, Sole…” He breathed over them, inspiring a blink of those brilliant eyes that broke the tension that had grown between them. “I’m so in love with you.”

To his surprise, his partner looked at him with a flash of disappointment.

“What is it, baby?”

“I haven’t even said anything yet. That was supposed to wait for the end.” They pouted rather dramatically.

“Aww, you didn’t hear all that? Everythin’ you just said? I heard it, loud and clear. No worries there. And no words needed, sunshine, trust me.”

“Hm.” They pursed their lips, unconvinced. “I think I’ve still gotta tell you anyways.”

“Sweetheat, there’s nothin’ I’d love more than to listen to your pretty voice sing praises to me all night long, but all that talk just about my eyes? I don’t think you’ll finish before the sun comes up.”

“If that’s how long it takes for you to quit making all those comments about your ‘ugly mug’ and ‘boring, black’ eyes, then so be it. We’ll be here all night, and into the next day, and all the night after. I’ll keep telling you next week, next month, years from now, when I’m old and wrinkled and a new civilization has risen from the ashes of this ruined world of ours, for this whole lifetime and any others that come along, I'll keep insisting, I’ll keep talking, and kissing, and touching, and loving you until you believe every word with every part of you. And I fucking mean it John Hancock, you know I do.”

Most of this talk was definitely the Day Tripper. Had to be. At least a little bit. Sole didn’t talk like this, didn’t make big confessions like this, didn’t command him to take their praise so adamantly, but still... every word rang true in their glazed-over eyes.

Whether they were foggy from the drug, or from their affection for him, Hancock didn’t completely know, but he did know that the words people spoke on Day Tripper tended to be true. It was one of the main reasons the drug was dangerous. It helps limit your inhibitions, makes confessions come easy, lessens your anxiety, makes the world seem more open and accepting to whatever strange, deep-rooted, or wholly secret confession your heart and mind held onto far away from the liberating threshold of your mouth. It’s why Hancock doesn’t usually do this one with friends, with people he doesn’t want to lose, with people he’s afraid to trust to stay in his life if they knew all the secrets of his past. He’d told Sole all of this, the dangers of these little pills, and yet, they’d still wanted to try it with him by their side.

“I do.” He rasped, the words making him shudder as he thought of what they might sound like in some other context, some other promise, down the line of his and Sole’s journey together.

If I should be so lucky they’d say yes to a promise like that. To a man like me gettin’ down on one knee and making a commitment more serious and binding than being Mayor of Goodneighbor.

Shit, and I would mean it just as much with them as I did with this town of mine. More so, even.

“I know you mean it, Sole. And I’m gonna really hold you to it one of these days.” He hinted with a half smile as he pressed his lips to their cheek and wrapped an arm around their shoulders tightly, until they yielded in their gathering exhaustion, falling back to rest against him, and sighing softly with sheer contentment.

“You’d better." They grumbled, "I’ll be waiting with bated breath.”

“Don’t you worry. You ain’t gonna have to wait too much longer.” They leaned their head against his shoulder, nuzzling into him a few times to get comfortable, and Hancock leaned back, his head resting against theirs as he took their hands in his, his midnight eyes falling to their left hand in particular as his fingers grazed over theirs in a delicate caress, and he daydreamed about the future he'd promised, and they'd promised him.

No. Not much longer at all…

Joshua:

“Joshua?” Your voice carried smoothly over the sand, through the hot, dry air. But Joshua didn’t stir, he didn’t even seem to register his name.

“You okay?” You pressed forward, craning your neck as you took a couple steps in his direction, trying to see what it was in the creek that had caught his attention so fully.

The sand shifted beneath you as you settled by Joshua’s side. He noticed you, out of the corner of his eye, but remained silent.

What could he say?

He did not feel it.

“What?” You asked, your brows furrowing as you shifted your body to face him, rather than the stream of water below.

“It’s a line from Genesis." He attempted to clarify, "Jacob is speaking to God, speaking to him of his own humility in response to the devotion that the Lord has shown him.”

Your brows didn’t unfurrow.

“And that… That has to do with…?”

“I’m not…” Joshua’s jaw clenched as his eyes finally left his own watery visage in favor of hiding behind his downed lids.

“I’m not sure why I said it. The quote just… came over me.” He lied, knowing full-well that the words had everything to do with you.

If I tell you that I feel unworthy of you, will that start something? Will that plant the idea in your mind that I don’t deserve you? Will you then act on that idea?

“Hey.”

He felt your touch upon his shoulder as your voice met his ears, it was light, but unyielding as your fingers clenched at the bandages insistently.

“You can talk to me.” You smiled as Joshua’s eyes opened and his gaze landed upon your face, and he wasn’t immune to it. Nor your words, and all that they promised.

Love rejoices with the truth.

“I’m humbled by you, Six. Humbled by the love you show me every day, and I feel… As Jacob did with the love of God. I feel unworthy of you.”

He felt your grip tighten upon his shoulder as sadness flooded your expression. It pained him to know he was the source of the strife he saw in your eyes.

“Joshua, I–”

He continued insistently, his scarred brow hardening over the intense blue of his eyes as you saw them spark with fire from within.

Joshua’s hand traveled slowly up to grasp at yours. Your eyes were wide and glistening as he gently took hold of you, and removed your touch from him.

And truth will set you free.

The thought sprung unbidden into Joshua's mind.

I don't feel free.

But perhaps... Perhaps, now, Six can.

Still, you sat in the sand, in shock at everything that had just left your partner, the man you love, and have loved happily for the months you’ve been together.

Where had it all come from?

What changed?

You could not.��