I was just there...

I made this account as a space to "dump" my shortfics and x reader fics. I've written fic for a while on my other account on here, as well as on AO3, but I found myself scared to post less polished work that I enjoyed writing but didn't feel were good enough to post. Most of my work is SFW, and every heading should have a label on it tagging any trigger warnings or content labels, as well as relationships. All of my headings are original and I do not permit the reuse of my graphics unless stated. That being said, I'm happy to share specific assets or tools I use.

I do take requests via my asks box, although I do not write smut at this time (romance/fade to black is fine). I will not write romance featuring characters who are generally considered children, even if the request is for "aged-up" versions of that character. For instance, I would not write a Damian Wayne x reader, even if it's aged-up!Damian. It's just not something I'm comfortable with. & reader (platonic or familial) fics are perfectly fine. If you aren't sure, ask! My list of fandoms can be found here (ellipsus link), but be aware that the list is not extensive, and you can always ask about fandoms or characters!

Tags I use: #ask the company for all asks

Most of your watch was spent looking at him and smoking, exhaling into the open air. You'd picked a good spot today, the shell of the skyscraper open enough to let some air in but just sturdy enough to provide some shelter. He was a restless sleeper, and had been since you met him. He went from not being able to sleep around you ("nothing personal", he'd explained) to struggling to sleep without you close. Even still, he was remarkably catlike. His nose wrinkled as you drew closer, his entire body twisting closer to you. It was easy to forget he was only 22 during the day, especially in the constant chaos that you two thrived in. But at night…he felt small.

Then again, you weren't that much older, not really. Aside from that, the wasteland aged some people way faster than others. Deacon hadn't looked as old as he was, and you'd have thought "Elder" Maxson was in his 40s at 20 years of age. You sighed, padding over to him and kneeling, gently shaking him awake. "Mac? It's your watch, sweetheart."

He woke up immediately, eyes clear and alert. "Trouble?"

"No, no trouble. I'm just tired."

"Okay," He said, getting up and plucking your cigarette out of your hand and bringing it to his own lips. "Enjoy your sleep, baby."

. ݁₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ

"Why are we going to Starlight?"

"Got something special planned," You responded slyly, pushing open the rusty gate. It was vacant except for the few cats you kept around, and they were milling around the food dishes that you paid a few traders to refill when they came through. "Had Sturges working on it for weeks."

You grabbed him by the arm, tugging him across the cracked concrete to a blanket that had been carefully laid out the night before. "Sit. Relax. I'll be right back."

"Okay," He said, immediately trusting you. It had taken a long time to get to this point of mutual honesty and trust. "Hurry back, though. It's cold out."

"Two minutes."

You jogged over to the door, ducking inside and hopping up the steps into the box. You'd made Sturges promise to leave written instructions by the circuitry, and you leafed through it. The man had awful handwriting. You eventually just started flipping switches randomly until you finally hit the right one, the projector kicking on with a clack and a hum.

You joined him on the ground, resting against one of the nearby cars just as the screen came to life. The title card was just as you remembered it, but the situation was entirely different. It had been a new movie over 200 years ago, but now you were holding a different hand.

He was transfixed, gazing up at the screen with a kind of childhood wonder as the lights blinked in and out, their motions on the screen a bit grainy and dim at times, but still clear enough for interpretation.

"You did all this?" He asked, glancing over at you during a slow part. "How?"

"Babe, never ask questions of a woman with an incredibly effective network."

"You had Hancock come up with awful side jobs for us while Sturges restored everything, didn't you?"

"Yeah, that's exactly what happened." You smiled, turning your attention back to the screen. "Minor help from me, honestly, I was just a distraction."

"You're my favorite distraction," He said, and you rolled your eyes, grinning just the same.

"Watch the movie,"

This was different, somehow. Maybe it was his instincts, honed to a razor's edge by years of hard decisions going south, or maybe it was the loss he always seemed to be fighting. Six had never told him to split so close to Legion territory. Especially a fine destination like Nipton, especially when the town itself bled black smoke into the clear blue of Nevada's skyline. Both of them made a habit of picking through the crosses, saving the Legion's victims one way or another, whether that was a removal of binds or the addition of a bullet.

No, this time was different. He was on duty, up in the nest, when he saw them. At first, he wasn't sure what he was looking at, just another smudge against the desert. They were staggering around, almost ghoul-like, trailing in circles and eventually collapsing in a heap, the sand breaking their fall. He moved on instinct, shouting for Manny to cover his post as he made a beeline for the gates. He knew Six wasn't the brightest, getting shot in the head tended to have that effect, but they were moving like something was seriously wrong. They were normally carefree, not clumsy.

His breath hitched as he came close, Six's head snapping up, eyes wild. Their hair was completely buzzed, fresh scars carved precisely into their forehead and scalp. New armor, a sleek, well designed piece of hardware, fit them so well it was almost uncanny.

"Boone?" Their voice was a rasp, barely audible over the pounding in his ears. He barely managed to catch them as their knees gave, letting them sag into his arms. They were both in the sand now, the small grains scattering and molding to cradle them.

"Six?" He moved to shake them gingerly, but he didn't manage to get that far. A disembodied voice cut through the terrifying silence.

"Oops! You took a tumble. Deploying Med-X."

"No," Six mumbled, weakly pushing at his chest. "Don't wanna…"

Their eyes rolled back, the tense edge of their body giving entirely, going totally limp. The sun suddenly felt very hot on the back of his neck, the tips of his ears.

"Six!"

"Uh-oh! Bad reaction. Have a stimpack!" The voice sounded again, cheerful and clearly feminine. "I don't want you to die!"

A flash of movement, too quick for him to have caught the first time, flickered near their forearm. He reached for it instinctively, pulling the sleeve away from their forearm. He felt himself hiss, his breath cold against his teeth, as he revealed dozens of injection sites. "What the—"

Six sat straight up, grappling for the weapon they had on their waist. He hadn't paid it much attention, but it was a strange contraption, not cobbled together or resembling any gun he'd ever seen. Definitely not the one they'd left with. It hummed against his skin when he grabbed it, wrenching it out of their grasp.

"No! Get off!" Six shrieked, lashing out. Their fingernails were jagged against his face, claws raking down his cheek. Their words dissolved into loud, terrified screaming, completely devoid of any meaning. He glanced up, gauging the distance back to Novac…close enough. He threw Six over his shoulder, doing his best to ignore their cries of protest and the pounding of their fists on his back.

They'd finally gone limp after a while of attempting to wrestle them into stillness, which was never a great sign. Six wasn't generally the type to give up. They were looking down at him with sad, wet eyes as he unclipped the armor, the shadows of his room casting them in a deathly pallor.

"I'm sorry." He murmured. "But we need to figure this out. How did this happen?"

"The suit," They said, lifting their arms robotically to let him pull the chestpiece off. "I didn't want to."

"I know." He said, brushing a hand against their cheek. They leaned into it slightly.

"Are you mad at me?"

"Of course not," He said, kneeling in front of them to remove the legs. "Why would I be?"

"I left you behind to go away again. But I didn't know. And then I woke up with a weird brain and a new spine and heart. The robots sent me to their labs and made me find things and the dogs attacked me and so did the other people."

"Wait, hang on. What do you mean 'weird brain'?"

"Oh." Six looked down, deliberately refusing to look at him. "Well…"

"Six."

"They lobotomized me and lost my brain, so they had to give me a new one…but then I got it back so it's all okay now. Don't worry. Can you take your sunglasses off? I want to see your whole face."

Deflection was normal. After they killed Benny, after they double-crossed Mr. House, hell, after they stole a star bottlecap off of a random tourist. They preferred not to explain themselves or anything that happened to them. He handed them his glasses, grasping their wrist carefully. In addition to the needle scars, there were bites and burns and what looked like Cazador stings. There were both blunt and bullet wounds. But above all this, there was a full-body tremor that they couldn't seem to shake.

"Look at me."

They did, their eyes hollow. They looked sickly, thinner and more brittle than he'd ever seen them.

You smiled to yourself as another head exploded. It was an art form, the way he could sweep a base like this. When you'd first met in that shady bar in Goodneighbor, you had been hesitant to trust a hired gun, especially one who claimed to be as good as he was. But he'd been a remarkably solid investment, more than happy to watch your back for less than what you probably owed him, if you were being fair. It had blossomed into a solid friendship and then more, the autumn falling into a nuclear winter and then a comfortable summer.

A war had turned into a few fringe conflicts, and a visit to the world's worst theme park had given way to a scenic Maine vacation, and once that was done, fog beaten, synths saved, Far Harbor restored, you'd both come home in one piece.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ

You were lying in bed one night, his duster hung over the office chair in the corner of the room, your boots arranged carefully next to his. You were explaining the concept of a bucket list, and how important it was to you now that you may not have as long to live as previously estimated. He'd perked up, intrigued by the idea.

"So, you make a list of things to do before you..."

"Kick the bucket," you confirmed, rolling over so your chin was resting on his chest. His hand stroked idly through your hair as he looked down the bridge of his nose, broken multiple times over, to meet your gaze.

"There's so many things I want to do, but the stuff to make those things happen was wiped out a couple of centuries before I was born," He said, not sounding too concerned. "I'd love to see a real plane fly, maybe ride in one. I'd like to go to a zoo--and don't say Nuka-World, that doesn't count--"

You closed your mouth.

"Go to the movies," He finished. "Didn't they make some based on the old comics?"

"Oh yeah," You said immediately. "Tons. By the time the bombs dropped, they had a million movies about a million different things. You could find something on just about any subject that the government deemed appropriate."

You thought for a moment. "That did nuke most of the foreign films though, and absolutely no sex, drugs, and any violence they didn't feel was justified."

"What's wrong with sex?" He asked, brows furrowing in confusion.

You shrugged as best you could in your current position, and he winced slightly as your elbow dug into his side. "It was taboo. I mean, obviously porn was a thing, but you'd never see sex on TV. Married people slept in separate beds. The funny part was that they always had a million kids and acted like they had no idea how they got there."

"That's weird."

"A lot of things were. In some ways, the Wasteland isn't too bad. See, we get to share a bed, and when we have kids, we can say with certainty that it was us."

He smiled, leaning down to kiss your forehead before shifting, his arms wrapping around you. The bed creaked slightly as he buried his face in your shoulder, pressing a kiss there before pulling back. "You want kids?" He asked, a slow smile creeping across his face.

"Well, I figure Duncan needs some siblings."

"I just never figured you'd want to put yourself through that."

"I had a kid, baby."

"With medicine. Doctors. In a hospital. The best possible scenario out here is in a medic's office in Diamond City. Maybe some Med-X for the pain."

"Point taken," You groaned. "I might have to reevaluate that one. We'll see."