#itssynthdetective

She had been robbed and attacked by raiders, only making it out with her grenade rifle, her life, and the clothes on her back. Greatly outnumbered and in an enclosed area where firing her launcher would be suicide, she ran away. 

The woman in the green hood managed to make it to Diamond City, and sold the ammo she had to pay for her medical bills. Now she was flat broke, and sitting on the street with a sign written with horrible spelling that read 

“Wi⅃⅃ WeЯk foЯ MoNƎy.”

At this point, any kind of work would do; hell, she’d farm and pick crops if they let her, but without a proper gun, she couldn’t do the usual mercenary work she was used to. She was metaphorically up the creek without a paddle.

And that’s when security came by her little begging corner. 

After Shaun was taken from her, Emily had been very careful with making friends. The Commonwealth was too dangerous to just assume that, once you’d make a friend, they would actually stick with you. The only way to communicate at long distance was by radio or messenger, which were both too inconvenient to rely on. There was no saying where your friend was; whether they were still alive. 

It was easier with Nick. He had his place, the same spot where she could almost always find him. If he wasn’t with her, then he’d be at the agency or in sanctuary, working on a case or taking care of Dogmeat for her (she didn’t trust many other people to do it). If he got hurt, then he was more likely to get back on his feet than most other people. Most of a synth’s parts could be replaced, hearts couldn’t. 

Too bad their luck had run out. 

A nervous tick she’d kicked years ago (really, over two-hundred) presented itself with a painful reminder of how anxious Emily could get. Her teeth clamped down on one of her nails, threatening to tear at the skin underneath while she mentally roasted herself for making one of the worst decisions in her life. They just had to test their luck; had to push past their limits. Of course there would have been too many raiders for them to handle. And who’d gotten the worst of it? Nick. Because it were always the good people who got hurt.

The Memory Den had been their only option. Nick had been shot too many times in all the wrong places for there to even be a chance to be repaired without somehow damaging and subsequently losing his memories. A memory transfer had been their only option. That was why she wasn’t in there, supporting him. There was not a single hair on her head that wanted to even think about seeing Nick’s body without him in it. All she could do was sit and wait, praying that he would walk out of that room on his own again.

put an 💘 in my inbox, and i’ll tell you what i think of our muses as a ship! | ( accepting. )

ooc; okay, so. like they’re like second soulmates honestly. there’s just smth about their connection from when they first meet, like nick just understands what it’s like to feel out of place (in more ways than one) and out of time, which really comes to fruition the more they get to know each other. plus, nick has a literal heart of gold, and laura really really admires that about him. it reminds her that even in a shit world, you can still be a good person.

he also just really reminds her of her prewar life. like he gets her, and her references, and little snippets and comments she says that nobody else understands bc they didn’t live in that time. he helps her feel normal, and she cherishes that so much.

@itssynthdetective

Diamond City was quite possibly one of Minerva’s favorite stops on her route. It was safe, well stocked, and all things considered the people were friendly.  

She had just picked up a fresh batch of supplies and was heading back to the Dugout Inn when she spotted the synth detective. She had heard plenty about him, and found it interesting that the town would allow a synth of all things within the walls. Especially taking the rumors of the Institute stealing people into account. 

send ‘ i want the K ‘ | ( accepting. )

15: Kiss in the rain

Days spent at Sanctuary mean much needed rest, and a break from the constant motion that is saving helping the Commonwealth. It’s home, after all, both from her old life, and her new one. She’s got her friends; she’s got Shaun. Things finally feel right again, and it’s a good start. A very good start.

She stands with her arms loosely folded, looking over the river flowing past the settlement, when she feels a light touch on the small of her back. Nick. There’s a smile each tugging at their lips when their eyes meet, and he’s the first to speak.

“ I didn’t break your concentration, did I? ““ Oh, hardly. “

Before he retorts, a rumble ripples through the sky, and warm droplets begin to splatter themselves over the entire area. Within a few minutes, Laura’s drenched, and she’s laughing, and making a poor attempt to shield herself from the relentless rain. Then there’s the heavy coat around her shoulders, stretched to cover her head, and those eyes–big, bright, hazel eyes–peer up at the detective, wrinkled in the corners. 

What’s a few more rust spots to get her to look at him like that? A look that he’s only known subconsciously, but only experienced now.

Before he knows it, Laura’s tugging him down to her level ( gently, without urgency ), and plants a small kiss on his lips. They linger for more than a moment, enough time for Nick’s hands to find a place on her waist. He’s delicate even though he knows he doesn’t have to be. He’s delicate because he knows she deserves that much.

When they part, nervous laughter fills the air between them, and before Laura’s scolded for standing out in the rain ( you’ll catch a cold ! ), she links her fingers with his, and drags him along inside somewhere dry.

Nick scoffed at the invasive thumb. His brow furrowed together and his optics clicked repeatedly– like a camera shutter, they went miles at a second– when she rubbed at the mysterious smear. He tried to lean away, the detective back-pedaling best he could, but alas, there was no avoiding Ellie Perkins when she got an idea in her head. 

Once she pulls her hand away, Nick’s arms up to defend himself from further assaults, he laughs, loud and hardy as he squints back at the small woman. “You spend way too much time around that grandmother of yours. You’re startin’ to dote on me like I was some cherub-cheek kid.” Part of him liked it, though. The attention was, well, sweet for lack of a better word.

He pulls off his hat to run his hand across his head. The lines of where his face plate was showed clearly under the light of the office. As well as the long jagged tear down Nick’s cheek where metal shined through like a dagger’s glint. 

His eyes twinkle when Ellie puts up a front. The sarcasm and wit tickles Nick’s tongue like bubbles in a fresh bottle of Nuka-Cola. “Well before you got all mother hen on me– I was gonna say how you make the upper stands folks pale in comparison to your wit and heart. Not to mention looks. But now…” he rubbed his chin. “…maybe this is the first time Nick Valentine pegged a person wrong.”

As Nick attempts to escape Ellie’s preening, a smile crosses her face that shows off her dimples; it’s not too often that she smiles wide enough for that to happen. “You’re like a toddler sometimes, I swear.” 

When he pulls back, she rests her free hand on the back of his head to prevent him from leaning any farther away, grumbling an “Almost got it...,” though there was nothing on his brow to begin with. 

As she takes a step back, she rests her weight on one foot and leans her chin on her knuckles, grin spreading as he gives such a productive laugh. “You may think that, but I actually spend more time around you, Mr. Valentine.” 

An old woman and a little boy? She wants to say, no, we’re more like an old married couple, but that would probably be inappropriate. 

Needless to say, she refrains. 

Her attention is caught when he begins to speak again; composure cracking a bit as he offers those compliments to her. It shows in the way her eyes quickly leave his and her chest puffs out. 

She forces herself to relax, though, and clears her throat. “What I’m taking away from this is that my doting takes away from my... more positive qualities.” Her smile returns, this time maybe a bit mischievous. Deep down, though, she’s still reeling. Wit and heart? Looks?