#{{ic}}violet

“Good to know there’s a heart under all that leather after all.” she jokes, “but nah, cute kid. She already get checked up on and everything?”

Violet dramatically fake-gags, glaring at Butch,

“You’re good lookin’, but I don’t think I’m that desperate--even if the Vault is small.”

Headcannon meme || accepting

⚡ : How does your muse feel about storms? Are they afraid of them, or do they calm them?

Violet loves storms when she’s not trapped out in them. She finds the noises soothing because it fills any empty silence that would otherwise make her feel alone and scared.

Salazar rolled his eyes slightly, and allowed himself to stoop down to kiss her back. Yes, it was his exceptionally bad attempt to talk dirty, perhaps even in poor taste considering that it had already been a year or so since he had unfrozen and found her again and still they could not locate their son, Shaun.

But he was under the influence of vodka, celebrating after completing an extremely dangerous contract, the extermination of an entire nest of Deathclaws for the betterment of one settlement.

Pulling her body close, he did not hesitate to move his hungry lips down her chin and onto her neck, breathing heavily whenever he could. “This time, Violet, It won’t be an accident. We’re actually planning to do this right, you hear?”

Violet tilts her head as Salazar’s lips move down her face and neck, hands moving from his collar to his waist. His lips tasted of vodka, but hers likely had the same aftertaste, even after the Cola. 

Shaun had been an accident. She knew this was a fact but it still hurt to acknowledge it. Still, she wanted this–to have a family, even with everything that went wrong before.

    “Loud and clear, dearest.” Violet agrees, kissing his cheek lovingly, “Not another honeymoon incident.”

Violet is taken aback by the question, nearly spitting out ner Nuka Cherry. She composes herself, looking to Salazar.

“Parents? Us? Well, shit…everyone else seems to be doing it.“

Danse has to shove her arms down to herself, a shiver going down his spine when she began squirming, awkwardly moving his hips back, trying to keep the contact in that area to a minimum. He made a hushing gesture to her, his brows furrowing in annoyance as he glared down at her with his dark, brown eyes. After the mutants attention averted, he slowly moved off her, pulling her by the arm and dragging her to a more secure area, sighing and running his hand through his hair. “If I move you, I’m more than likely trying to help you.” He hissed, huffing at her. “Don’t let your stubbornness get you killed, woman.”

Violet calms down, not squirming in his grip anymore.

    “I couldn’t see and you just pushed me. What do you expect?” she smirks, “I’m mean, not that I mind being this close to you but damn, Danse.”

  The Railroad hideout was already a fairly cramped space for the number of associates that generally littered its cavernous interior, but Quade assumed he was out of the way when the others gathered. He usually had little to participate with - more comparable to an attack dog than an intelligence agent. So it came as a surprise to him when one of the newest assistants in their conquest movedneedlessly close to him to pry one of the Stimpacks off the nearside table.

    Black eyes followed her outstretched arm, and then back up to meet her face, not so much as flinching where he stood, leaning against one dusty pillar with arms crossed. His lips parted as if to speak, but he didn’t utter a word - rather, it was the subtle furrow of his brows alongside the small indentations above his nose that spoke a curious perplexity. He barely knew the vault dweller, and yet…?

Violet didn’t have much of a sense for personal space. Besides, headquarters was cramped and it wasn’t like she minded brushing shoulders--well, more than shoulders in this case--with her fellow agents. She was fairly social anyway.

      “Sorry, just needed the stim.” she smiles to Quade, not totally sorry, “I’m not sure we’ve really talked before. Quade, right?”