Charon opts to ignore it. He's got a job to do and is bound by contract. His feelings don't matter for this transaction to work and now is no different. Despite it all, he can't help but notice how much more inclined he is to be of service to you — always offering to take the night shift, or more aware of his surroundings than he normally would be. He's never been so fond of the person holding his contract and it makes him feel so conflicted. What would you say? Would you sell him off if you found out? He's a ghoul, for Godsake, what 19-year-old teen would want him?

Clover isn't sure how to act, so she'll act in the only way she's known how — sexually. She'll run her hands across your shoulders and whisper lowly into your ears just so she can get the message across to you, but in all honesty, she truly isn't sure what it is she feels for you. It'll take he a minute to sit down and think everything over before she comes to the realization that she's in love with you. Once she figures it out, she'll tone her erotic actions toward you down, opting to instead bring you flowers, or clean up around your home. She tries to mimic you in how you treat her, hoping that it'll eventually make you feel the same for her as she does you.

Star Paladin Cross feels a bit conflicted about her feelings for you as you're the kid she helped escort to the vault. She's well aware of her body modifications and the sheer age gap between you two and would, therefore, try to extinguish these feelings at all costs. You two weren't meant to be together, and she needs to get a grip before this turns into anything more than you and her being comrades.

Jericho doesn't care if you catch on to how he feels or not, he'll just pin you up against a wall and try to get you flustered. This has always been his way of showing someone that he's interested in them and he'll stick with this method until you say something about it. He's constantly in your face — whether he be throwing his arms around you or squishing your cheeks between his fingers. He loves the way you swat at him and the cute way you roll your eyes at his antics, however, he doesn't realize that he's in love until you get injured badly. Then reality will hit him and he'll (slightly) drop his douchy act and make an actual attempt at wooing you.

Butch tries to play it off and act the same as he always has, but every time he's around you he can't help but fall into a blushing, flustered mess. He's a teenager who's never actually been in love before, and he hates every second of it. Who do you think you are anyway? Walking around as if you're blissfully unaware of his feelings toward you. He gets meaner towards you — teasing you more often and tripping you whenever the chance arises — but it's only to help try and mask his intentions. He'll only put the pieces together when someone else tries to flirt with you, then he'll pull his pocket knife out, scare the guy off, and go right back to how he was before — a bumbling mess.

First WIP is for the time loop/"Groundhog Day" FC5 AU fic called You're Almost Like Family where the Seeds are stuck in a, well, time loop. And whenever Silva (or the Seeds themselves) die, well, the days are reset. Funniest part is, none of the Seeds know that they are all in a loop, just their individual selves. Snippet below:

[John] slammed the entrance to his chalet shut, causing the blonde figure sorting his papers in his lounge to jump. The documents slipped out of her hands as she stood up with a hand to a holster, only to calm down when she realized it was him.

Noticing that the reports laid scattered on the floor, Nadi gave him a stink eye, gesturing to the papers.

John would have been apologetic if he simply didn't have time for this. Ironic given the predicament he was stuck in.

Sooner or later, the Deputy is going to end up dead, and he'll be back at square one... again.

The thought reignited his frustration, but he reigned in enough to examine his number two.

Nadi was a loyal member of the project, more faithful than Jacob's hound, and while they did butt heads sometimes, he was grateful for her presence and for her strategic input. Admittedly, John knew that without her, the Deputy would have gotten to him sooner rather than later.

I would have preferred not to have to had died to appreciate it.

"Once you finish with those, come meet me upstairs in my bedroom. There's something I need to discuss with you," John ordered smoothly, making his way to the stairs.

He didn't notice the confusion etched on the blonde's face, for John was already making his way up the stairs to his room.

It's times like these I wish I could have a shot of tequila, he thought to himself, walking over to the open bedroom window and closing it shut, pulling the lock down.

Next, he grabbed a torch light and shined it at the closet. Hearing nothing, he walked towards it and opened the doors. Empty.

Finally, John turned off his torch, knelt down, and swiftly rolled it harshly under the bed. Hearing no grunts, he looked under.

She's not under there... good.

John exhaled a huff of air, and sat on the edge of his bed as he put his hands over his face.

It was exhausting. Though John knew by the end of today, or the next two if he was lucky, the Deputy would be killed by something or another and he would be back at square one, he really needed to figure out how to reach out to her, without being shot.

Going to her too early leaves her shooting first and questioning the morality of it never, and trying to go to her late only ends up with her being killed by whoever it is she seems to have evoked the wrath of. Not that he thinks she doesn't entirely deserve it.

He needed guidance, and from his last conversation with Joseph, his brother seemed content with sitting by and letting God do his work.

And he tried. To wait it out. To let God do His work. But if the sign that John seemed to be getting was that leaving the Deputy to her own accord only leads to her death, and back to the morning of Joseph's arrest.

And it wasn't like Jacob, or worse, Faith, were going to be helpful.

John had figured out quickly that his intervention was needed for the Deputy to even get through another day. And while the Father may not have understood what he told him, John deduced that this was a test from God.

A test against his sloth. A test towards his patience. A test meant to prove that John was worthy of entering Eden. And what better way than to save the life and soul of another? Especially one as sinful and wrathful as the Deputy?

Which is why he waits for the only other faithful member of the project, his trustworthy second-in-command.

A knock on the door shifted his thoughts to the matter at hand, and he made his way to the door.

Opening it, Nadi stood there, the blond looking at him with expecting brown eyes.

John pulled her inside, earning a yelp from the young woman, and closed the door behind her.

Here's a WIP for a collection of short fics from different character perspectives throughout my Fallout fic series A Radioactive Calamity of Love, Bombs & Gore. It is still under heavy editing, but I've got a good grasp on where to take it. Snippet below:

In the five of the twenty four hours she's been awake, Nova had expected more-or-less the same day as before.

Walking around and offering her body to anyone who came into the saloon had not been a life she pictured for herself as a little girl, but it was one that paid well.

Well, it would have been if Moriarty didn't continue to take a cut of her and Gob's pay any time a customer gave them a generous donation.

That and the amount of times Moriarty had utilized her services with no intention of paying her, but she supposed it was a better alternative to being kicked out of Megaton. Given Moriarty still had that power.

She drew in the smoke from her cigarette, and surveyed from her post as Gob gave another orange bottle of whiskey to Jericho, the ex-raider sneering at the ghoul, his disgust evident all over his face.

Thankfully he didn't make a scene, slamming the small bag of caps on the counter as he left through the door.

Gob stared at the bag, string noose tied tightly around the bag, not immediately grabbing it. Nova could take a guess that Gob was lamenting over the debts that he owed Moriarty. Debts both the prostitute and the ghoul bartender wordlessly knew their boss was unlikely to pay.

Gob snapped out of it though, giving a miserable sigh, and dragging the bag away from the counter for Moriarty to pocket later, turning his attention to the damn radio that never seemed to play at the right time.

It pained Nova to see Gob like this. He was a real sweetheart with shitty luck, and she knew that the only upsides in his life were the hope of one day paying off his debts, however unlikely that was, and the Gravity News Radio host screaming out "fighting the good fight", whatever that entailed.

She was also painfully well aware of his crush on her.

Though she never had minded his appearance to the point she'd hang out with him in public, given how much she knows the ghoul is actually a decent guy, she had her limits, which was rare given her current standing under Moriarty.

She hoped he could find some semblance of happiness, whether that be with a person or a life long after Moriarty was rotting in the ground. But it wouldn't be with her.

If things were different though...

Nova looked away from Gob, shaking the thought away. It didn't matter on the what ifs, right now she had a job to perform.

She could ponder a different time.

Just as Gob began to smack the radio, a risky action given Moriarty's repeated threats on treating his property harshly, the saloon door creaked open, and Nova spotted two teens enter. One male, the other female. Both wearing what appeared to be blue jumpsuits with the numbers "101" imprinted in yellow on their backs.

Nova eyed them both. The young man was of average build, short auburn hair cut neatly with a few strands springing out from the harshness of the wasteland most likely, and light brown eyes on the lookout for anyone and anything.

The young woman on the other hand had dark hair tied in a pony tail, was a little chubbier than her counterpart, and her hazel eyes were more focused, trying to narrow down a specific person.

They glanced back to the door, whispering amongst themselves, though not too quiet that she couldn't catch their words.

Amongst the harsh gravel Gob spat out at the poor radio, and the chatter amongst the patrons, Nova could decipher the words "here" "back outside" and "think she'll stay?" in hushed voices.

And finally Jennifer putting murder on her mind to the back burner as she remembers to drop, duck and cover my WIP of Sonya's Push. Snippet below:

Breathing heavily as she pushed her way through the audience as they gazed upon the newest arena fight between beasties, the bruises formed from her fight with Malvolio's bitch protesting against her movements.

The blonde looked back to the closed elevator door on the other side, paranoid that Malvolio's Beastie would burst through at any moment.

The speed of it had been abnormal, disappearing in a blink and being nothing more than a flicker of movement when it had slid down to the hall. The movement of its tail daggers swift and deadly, like her own claws. The red in its one eye, more robotic than flesh.

Why had Dicko approved such a thing? It barely counted as a beastie with the mass of metal it was made of! Jennifer huffed, and around the arena, looking pass the patrons in search of Dicko.

Her blue eyes spotted the Englishman on a lower circle, himself seated down on his VIP sofa that she once shared with him, disheveled but celebrating his escape with a glass of disgusting champagne, like the pig hadn't just left her to die to that one-eyed mech of a beast. As if the reason it was free in the first place wasn't because he allowed his creep of a "buddy" onto his premises, or the fact Sir Enigma might be a fucking alien in addition to a Darwinist with no care for the fact "handing control" did not mean "releasing the Beastie from its brainwashing bullshit".

She felt the razor claws pushing through her fingertips as she glared at the man from across the arena, anger and betrayal clouding her mind.

Those fantasies of killing him while in his bed resurfaced, and she oh so wanted to enact them now, with the sofa as an acceptable exception.

She wanted to get her claws through his throat before the Beastie could make its way down to the arena. She tried to move pass the cheering audience, making her way around to the other side to get to the stairs.

However much she tried though, a block of people just refused to move aside, and she was tempted to slice her way through if it weren't for the guards.

Ding!

...Or the faint noise of the elevator door that echoed throughout the arena, deaf to everyone but her.

Frozen in place as she looked back, trying to get a glimpse of the beast that would no doubt tear them apart.

She pushed people aside to get a solid look. Enough people disbanded to show the doors opening to reveal the empty box of the elevator.

Jennifer's face scrunched in confusion, mouth gaping open and shut, lips stinging as the cut on her upper lip made contact with her bottom one. She desperately searched for any sign of the beast, the monster made of steel, the relentless creature that stalked and hunted her not moments ago.

Upon still seeing nothing, she let out a mirthless laugh as she turned her back to the elevator, shaking her head as she focused her attention on Dicko once more, the man a ring below talking with one of his guards.

It was with this focus that she noticed a... shift on the stone barriers that kept the audience at bay.

Large spots on the stone cracked, small dusts of powder dropping down as an unseen pressure was placed on the stone. She saw more of this dust from the next ring up, and then the next, and the next.

Up and up and further up until it stopped at the final ring. Then dust slowly dropped down from the roof, unbeknownst to the audience too invested on the violence happening between the two wild beasties below them. Not that the fight between those Beasties were anything special unlike what she saw from her hunter mere hours ago.

Jennifer felt some familiarity with this, words exchanged to her by the madman who released the Apex from its prison, a far too fond explanation on how the creature could "rush so fast it would be merely a flicker to the human eye!"

"...Or match its environment to disappear right before you," Malvolio explained, grinning at her with all his teeth.

Jennifer's eyes widened as she barely registered the outline of the beast that had adjusted its steel to uncloak itself while hanging from dark and dank ceiling. Red optic looking down to the cheers in the rings and the Beasties fighting under it.

She saw the tail split in three, and immediately followed her gut by making distance from the open space of the barriers.

Charon doesn't know what to think when you tell him. It's not something he's ever really thought about much, but now that you've brought it up, he feels more relieved? He's not sure how to describe it, he just knows that it makes him feel less like a tool and more like your companion. The comment weighs on him a lot more than he'd care to admit. How could he be more than a murderer when that's all he's ever done? When it's all he's ever known? How could he be more than that? He'll resent you for a while, secretly, of course, but resentful. There have been numerous times when his contractor would do something similar -- just trying to be 'friendlier' with him. but it always meant that they'd start asking bigger favors. He doesn't trust you, or at the very least he's scared to. He's been traveling with you for a while now, and he's slowly been getting more and more used to having you around. He'd hate to have that growing familiarity he feels for you be crushed by the revelation you're just like the rest. So he bides his time, waiting for any sign that you meant what you said. But until then, he'll huff and roll his eyes, as he does his best to stamp out any hope he might have for this relationship to be so much more than what he's used to expecting, not wanting to get fooled by the end of it again.

Clover just laughs, waving it off dismissively as she continues doing whatever she was previously. Murderer? She's not a murderer. Honestly, she thinks it's comical that you'd even suggest her being such a thing. Although, the more time that goes by, the more she considers your words. A murderer? She's not a murderer, is she? She's just been following orders -- just doing what she needs to do to survive... right? She'll come and find you one night and just cry into your shoulder. She won't say anything, just hug you and sob, repeating over and over again that she's sorry and that she's grateful you've been so accepting of her up to this point. The next morning she'll be back to her usual self. With the way she acts, it'll seem as if nothing has changed, but on the inside, she's never felt so loved -- genuinely loved.

Star Paladin Cross just smiles. Of course, she's more than a murderer! She's a defender of the people! A protector for the pride of the Brotherhood! She's not concerned about that image of hers being tarnished in such a way. However, a part of her feels sad when she thinks about your words to her. Did you see her in that way? Is that why you said it? It's definitely conflicting, especially when considering she's not fully human. You didn't really see her as a monster, did you? As a killer? She doesn't let it interfere with her relationship with you or her duty to the Brotherhood. Still, it'll always weigh in the back of her mind as a possibility, even if what you said was meant to be taken positively.

Jericho just chuckles at the notion. He knows exactly what he is, and he's not afraid to admit to things he's done in his past. Still, though, the sentiment was sweet enough, especially when coming from someone as young and naive as you. You haven't seen anything out here, have you? Of course, you haven't. That's why you're still sticking around him, right? Sometimes, he forgets how innocent some people are. He's old and always found a way to be in the center of violence, but you? You're fragile. You haven't seen what the wasteland can truly become, and he likes that about you. You need him, and a part of you helps ground him back into a more hopeful version of the world that he's been missing for quite a while now.

Butch scoffs when you tell him. Who do you think you are? You're not his mom. He could care less what you think of him. Sure, he might've been a little cruel when you both still lived in the Vault, but that was the past. He'll roll his eyes, give you a quiet 'whatever', and go about as normal. The thought still sticks with him, though, and after a while, it's all he seems to be able to think about. Did you used to see him in such a negative way? It'd make sense. He'd never really been kind to you. There's a small twinge of guilt that stings at him the longer he thinks back to all those moments in 101. He finds himself being softer with you after--not yelling out as much, not making as many rude remarks, and restocking your ammo when he notices it getting low. He'll begin to feel genuine guilt for everything he's done toward you and wants to make up for it as best he can.