#*white knuckle grip on shoulders* i need to see them pre-betrayal i need to see them pre-betrayal | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bellesque · 4 years

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EEP! I’ve been waiting for reqs to open since I syarted following you a few weeks ago! HOORAY! How about a one-shot where Tom is nervous about his first show of Betrayal but his gf helps him and supports him through it? And maybe they can celebrate after the show with some fluff and smut? Gracias and happy b-day 😄

Opening Night

(Tom Hiddleston x Reader)

Read on my AO3.

Summary:

Tom’s a little nervous about Betrayal’s opening night, and as his girlfriend, you’re more than happy to help him through it - and celebrate with him at the end.

Rating: Mature (wow a first, not E)

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings/Tags: FLUFF, Pillow Talk, Smut, Tom Hiddleston yes he gets his own warning

A/N: The theatre enthusiast in me will always be a little sad that I never got to see this show but hey that’s what fanfiction is for right? Enjoy! (and again in case people get confused my birthday was a WHILE ago hehe)

TOM’S RUNNING LATE.

Not that you’re worried. Or that you blame him. From what your boyfriend’s told you, tech week has been significantly stressful and hectic. As Betrayal’s opening night inches closer, Tom has been all kinds of all over the place as of late.

It’s heartwarming to see him put so much love and effort into the production. Just as he does in every other aspect of his life.

You check the wall clock in the kitchen, wondering if it’s a better idea to leave dinner out on the table or keep it for the meantime. You know he’ll be hungry when he gets home, and you don’t exactly want to serve him cold chicken. You send him a quick text asking where he is, and hear his text notification from outside the door.

It opens with a quiet click, and Tom grins at you as he steps inside. “Just arrived,” he says, holding up his phone. “Sorry, darling, we were running late tonight. There were a few points we really needed to get right.” He gives you a chaste peck on the lips and then another on your forehead.

“I figured.” You head back into the kitchen and take out two plates as Tom makes for the bedroom. “Rehearsal was okay?”

“Alright,” he calls. “We hit a few snags with the sound, but that’s what tech week is for, isn’t it?” He’s pulling on a white shirt when he steps into the kitchen with you. As you set his place at the table, he wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Come shower with me,” he whispers.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach and you can’t help the giddy smile that spreads across your lips. You giggle as he presses a kiss to the base of your neck. Just when you’re about to turn around, his stomach rumbles loudly, and you laugh at his sheepish expression. “Someone’s hungry,” you tease.

Tom gets a teasing glint in his eye. “For—”

“Some chicken, I hope,” you shoot back, raising an eyebrow. Tom laughs, that adorable peal with his eyes crinkling and his tongue poking out between his teeth.

After dinner and clean-up, you and Tom take a shower—together, as he so kindly asked. Once you settle in your pajamas, the pair of you climb into bed.

You expect him to fall asleep right away; after all, it’s been a long day for him. So it surprises you when he falls back against his pillows, wiping a hand down his face and sighing.

You know that sigh. It’s the one that comes out when his mind is running a mile a minute. When he’s got a lot of thoughts, but somehow nothing to say. You study his face and you prop yourself on your side, your head resting on your elbows. “Hey.”

Tom glances at you. “Hi, darling.” He smiles briefly.

A pause. You reach out and pluck his hand that fiddles with his beard away from his face. “Penny for your thoughts, mister?”

He laces your fingers together and brings your intertwined hands to his lips, brushing them against your knuckles. “Just about the show,” he answers, resting your hand on the spot above his heart.

The steady beat of it doesn’t fool you, though. It’s not unlike him to try and brush off his nerves, make it seem like it’s no big deal so that it doesn’t worry you. “You know you can talk to me,” you say gently. “Safe space. Always. We can share the burden, Tom.”

He sighs, his thumb drawing circles over your hand. “Opening nights are always… you know, the critics will be there, you don’t know how the audience will react, generally speaking. You can only guess how people will like it. If people will like it.”

“They will,” you reassure him.

“I hope so.” He exhales again. “There’s also the concern of whether or not they’ll be able to follow it, if we’ve presented it in a clear way.”

“I’m sure everyone knows it’s in reverse chronological order.”

Tom glances at you with a reminiscent grin on his face. “Remember when we watched The Last Five Years?”

You give him a playful shove. “That’s different. You’re telling two stories in reverse order from each other.”

“Not as different as you might think.”

You hum. “Well, it’s very likely people who are coming to the show have a good idea of what to expect. Done their research and all that. And hey, that’s not your problem, right? If they don’t get it. You’re there to perform, to bring Robert to life.”

“Darling, you know—ah, but that’s actually another thing, see. Robert. His character. You know with Pinter, there’s a lot said in the unsaid. Got to make sure the pauses, silences, it all has to speak without speaking. If the tone isn’t right, even in those pauses, the integrity of the scene is, well, in a way, compromised. There’s not much to go on, so it’s a big job for the actor. Everything needs to have that emotional weight. Purposeful, you know? Even if it’s Charlie and Zawe’s scene. Can’t lose that emotional momentum, or else those big impactful moments don’t land right. Er—darling?”

You’ve gone quiet beside him, letting him speak so freely from the heart. Seeing his passion, the depth of his thought for this role, fills you with admiration and affection. “I’m listening,” you promise, at the same time he says, “I should stop talking about it.”

“No!” You tighten your grip on his hand. Tom squeezes back. “No, please, I love that you can share this with me. I love hearing you talk about theatre like this. I do,” you reassure, laughing goodnaturedly at his half-skeptical face. “I’m glad you’re talking to me about it. Things are always less daunting after you say them out loud.”

“That’s true, isn’t it?” His eyes are soft when they’re locked on yours. He shifts, lying on his side to face you, and you lay your head back down against your pillow, arm tucked under your chin. “You do know how to cure a man’s stage fright.”

“You? Stage fright?” He chuckles when you wrinkle your nose. “Impossible.”

“More likely than you think, love.”

You shift forward to kiss him sweetly; just a short one, you think, only he deepens it and pulls you closer by the nape of your neck. You pull away slightly breathless, see Tom’s eyes scanning every inch of your face, and you stroke his cheek. “Okay. Bedtime. Tech week isn’t over, in case you forgot.”

Tom groans as he rolls onto his back, and you pat his pectoral. “Absolutely grueling,” he mutters.

“You’ll be fine, big booty.”

Tom twists to face you, hand sliding over your waist. “Now if you say it like that, I don’t think sleep is in the cards for the both of us—”

“Sleep.”

“Hey. You’ve got this, okay?”

You cup a hand around your boyfriend’s jaw, tiptoeing to reach up and plant a kiss on the opposite cheek. “You’re ready. You’re gonna do great.”

He takes your hand, kisses the inside of your wrist. “Meet me at the stage door?”

“As your number one fan amongst your many other number one fans,” you grin. “Now go. Do your thing. Break a leg, big booty.”

Tom leans down to plant a real kiss on your lips. “I love you,” he murmurs when he pulls away. “I don’t know where I’d be without you, darling.”

“Backstage doing pre-show ritual things, now go!”

Giving him a gentle push and with his pleasant, uplifting laughter ringing in your ears, you watch Tom disappear into the theatre.

You’re so proud of him. Always have been, always will be. Everything you’ve said to him, every encouragement, affirmation—you meant it every single time. He’s talented at the same time extremely grounded, and he deserves to be reminded of his capabilities when he’s unable to remind himself.

You take your seat, Playbill in hand, and after a few idle minutes of scanning its contents and watching people file into the theatre, the lights dim and the curtain rises.

All throughout the performance, you watch in rapt attention. Only after the show is over and curtain call starts do you realize your brows have been knit the entire time. Tom takes his bow with a splitting grin on his face, and a few tears spring to your eyes. You’re so proud of him and the cast. The success of the night. Opening night. You cheer.

When you go out to stage door, you don’t come up front; instead you hang back, a little ways away from the crowd, and watch as the cast wave, sign Playbills, and take photos. You love seeing Tom in his element. Riding the silent high of a great performance.

His eyes scan the crowd until they land on you, and there’s an unmistakable twinkle in those baby blues. You light up, giving him a wide grin and a thumbs up, and he smiles back at you.

A private smile that seems to say, We’ll celebrate later.

Dinner with the cast and crew is nice. Zawe and Charlie are welcoming and warm, and it’s not awkward for you to hang back and observe while Tom floats from circle to circle like a social butterfly.

But every so often, he casts a burning, wanting look your way.

No one else notices. No one else can see the clandestine and seductive I want you he says so loudly with his eyes. It’s reserved for you, and only you—and a thrill shoots down your spine.

You’ll have him later. Right now, you want him to bask in his moment to kick off Betrayal’s run right.

But damn, the way he looks at you weakens your resolve bit by bit.

He’s posing for a photo with his cast mates, and after the camera clicks Tom politely excuses himself and makes his way towards you.

“There’s my lady.” He kisses you on both cheeks. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“I am,” you respond. He’s always been subtle with his emotions, but to you, it’s clear as day how excited and elated he is. “But you should get back.”

“Come with me,” he says, keeping your hand in his.

“I couldn’t—it’s your night—”

“And I’m celebrating it with the woman I love together with everyone else here. Ah, Peter—”

Tom moves to shake a crew member’s hand, tugging you along by your intertwined fingers. He doesn’t let go of you the rest of the night. Instead you find yourself linked at his side. When you occasionally pull away his hand rests on the small of your back. You’re a part of his world; he actively makes sure of it.

“Are you coming to the after party?” a portly woman asks the pair of you.

You look at Tom in confusion—isn’t this the after party?—but he gives her an apologetic smile. “I’ve got plans with this one.” He raises your entwined hands.

You’re not exactly comfortable keeping him from the festivities when he should be a part of it, so you open your mouth to protest. “Tom—”

The woman chuckles, cutting you off. “Must be nice to be in love, hmm? See you tomorrow then!”

You poke his side. “Why’d you say no to the after party?”

“There’s only one after party I want to attend.” He leans in conspiratorially. “And there’s only one woman I want in attendance.”

He pulls away, eyes darkening at your flushed cheeks. He glances at your lips. “Do you want to come?”

And like a switch, your dirty brain turns on.

“When?”

“Now.”

You and Tom rush through your goodbyes as respectfully and as fast as two aroused humans possibly can. After a few more photos and a couple final victory hugs, you and he are finally on the way home.

Part of you expects that as soon as the front door closes, you’d get straight to it, kissing and groping like your lives depended on it. You’re ushered in first, and Tom quietly closes the door behind him.

And you both stand there.

“What a night, huh?” you say as you shuck off your coat. Bundling it up in your arms, you beam at him. “Happy opening, love.”

He strides towards you, and when he reaches you his hands run up and down your bare shoulders. “Thank you. Truly, darling. For always believing in me. Supporting me. Loving me. I mean it when I say I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

And then he’s kissing you. Delicately, slowly, like he has all the time to explore your mouth. The coat in your arms falls to the floor as your fingers find their way into his hair. The heat that once simmered underneath the surface begins to bubble and boil, your kisses becoming more frantic.

He trails his lips down your neck, and then he’s planting a line of kisses around your jaw. You manage to find your lost voice and gasp out, “Bedroom?”

He lifts you up and you squeal in surprise, his large hand cupping your butt. He lays you on the bed with a strong sort of tenderness and his mouth closes over yours again. The feel of his hard length against your stomach has you all types of flustered, and you sloppily try to take off his sweater.

Tom takes over, peeling off his clothing and sliding down the straps of your camisole. You sigh when you feel his mouth over your nipple, giving a tug at his hair that makes him growl. As soon as you’re both naked, bared to each other, he slides a hand between your legs, slipping a finger into you with ease.

“You don’t know how hard it was for me to control myself,” he husks, hitting a spot inside you that makes you inhale sharply. “All I wanted to do was bring you home, party be damned.”

“Tom,” you sigh, eyelids fluttering as you fold around him. “Well, we—hah—we’re here now, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” he murmurs, kissing your throat, “the perfect celebration. Oh, darling, I love you.”

Your hand somehow finds its way down and you begin stroking him. Both your hips move into each other’s hands in sync, breathing becoming labored, as he whispers against your neck and your fingers tangle in his hair. His fingers find your clit and you moan.

You wanted to be patient, draw this out—but you can’t. You need him. To feel him fill you, your every space and secret corner.

You guide Tom into you. Your pace is slow, controlled and measured, until you begin the crescendo to release. Tom kisses you fiercely, his hands roaming every inch of your skin, as he pounds into you until your bodies meld as one.

He thrusts a few more times, hard and purposeful, and you explode in shattering release.

He follows soon after, one hand braced above you, his eyes shut as he chases after his own pleasure. You rock your hips against his, coaxing, and them he cums with a shuddering breath.

There are no words that can articulate your adoration and affection for this man looming above you, his face slack with the pleasure of release, so you attempt to convey it with a searing kiss. He responds with equal fervor, his hands brushing your hair as you both come down from your high.

Moments later, you’re curled up at his side, slightly panting but entirely satisfied. Tom’s fingertips trail over your spine absently, pressing his nose into your hair from time to time.

“I am,” you start to say, breaking the comfortable silence, “so proud of you. You were great tonight. Everyone loved it.”

“Thank you, love. For your undying fidelity,” he says, switching his voice to the familiar antihero you love. You laugh against him, sitting up.

“The night is still young, you know.”

He strokes your arm. “Is it?” he teases.

“Mmhmm.” You swing a leg over him, your lips latching onto his throat before you whisper, “If you think the afterparty’s over, you’re wrong, my love—we’re just getting started.”

#2/3 requests done luvs #almost there #i tried to write smth M not E #BOY WAS IT HARD #if it falls flat just know #that it’s because i was trying something #that’s not as raunchy as i’m used to #anyway yeah peep how into the theatre talk i got #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #smut #fluff #fanfiction #by belle #reader request #fic request

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nuclear-reactions · 7 years

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Fo4 companions react to discovering that Sole has been a synth the whole time and didn't know it??? (p.s. I really love your writing and I think you should like write a book or something because I'd definitely read it and pay good money for it.)

(It’s funny youshould mention that anon, because I actually am in the process ofwriting the second draft of a novel. It’s partially the reason Idon’t post much these days; along with being a sad flake of a person,most of my free time is spent on rewriting the same paragraph fifteentimes. I’ve mentioned the book before here, but if you enjoy mywriting you can follow my newest side blog @toogaytowrite where I’ll beposting all the drabbles I write that I can’t find a home for as wellas updates on the book and excerpts. If you just want fanfictionstuff you can check out my AO3 too/shameless plug

Codsworth is aplot hole in this kind of theory so he, Strong, and Dogmeat areexcluded )

There’s the truth,in the black and white ink of the Institute’s documents. Their truename is a number and their memories are lines of coded heartbreak.None of it was even real. Somehow it makes sense- the first real,clear memory they have is of the day the bombs fell. If there was alife before that, their creators didn’t deem it necessary to theexperiment. Sole is a synth. Manufactured. Inhuman. An researchproject to see how a synth would act under the outlandish parametersthey’d set. Shaun, their spouse, their memories of their parents,their entire life, all fabrications. Holding the proof with shakinghands, they turn to their companion.

Hancock- He prideshimself on being good with words, on always knowing what to say,whether or not it was exactly the ‘right’ thing to say. Very rarely,pre-ghoul or after, has John Hancock ever found himself at a loss forwords. Yet here is. He had to hand it to the Institute- they reallyoutdid themselves with Sole. They completely convinced him Sole was areal person. The moment that thought crosses his mind, he feels hisstomach bottom out. What the hell was he thinking? Of course Sole isa real person. He built an entire town to shelter people that otherssaw as subhuman, and he had to scold himself for entertaining theidea, even for a moment, that they were anything less than anexemplary human being. More human than most of the people who wouldlaud their humanity as a virtue. “Hey.” He tips their head up alittle. “Look at the bright side- I ain’t gonna outlive you now,and you get to keep all of your skin. We can raise hell forcenturies.” A hollow huff of laughter escapes them. He fixes themwith a steady gaze. “You’re still you, Sole. That might be hard tobelieve right now, but its true. You’re the same person that waltzedinto Goodneighbor and turned my world upside down. And I’ve still gotyour back, whatever you’re made of.” He chuckles, “Tinman.” andknocks his knuckles against their chest.

Nick- He put ahands on their shoulder. “Easy there, kid. This is a lot to takein.” He knows too well the way it feels to have the world pulledout from under you in exactly this fashion. It’d been a long timesince he woke up in a dumpster with a head full of stolen memories,he knows better than perhaps anyone in the Commonwealth, or at leastanyone in the room, what Sole is going through. Yet, he still findsit unimaginable. His memories are real. They’re not his own, but aman named Nick Valentine had existed once. To realize every face inyour head, every ghost haunting your dreams, was just a part of yourprogramming, it was unfathomable But just as he understands thefeeling of realizing you aren’t really you, that your identity is alie, he also knows what it means to break free of the preconceivedtemplate the Institute laid out for you. “They didn’t make you,understand? Everything you are, everything you’ve done, those gotnothing to do with anything they did to you. Whatever they made youfor, you made yourself, without their help.” He pulls them into anembrace with one hand and pushes the paper away with the other. Theyhelped him accept this same simple truth, the least he could do wasmake them see it too.

Curie- She is onlyjust beginning to grapple and understand her own newly foundemotions, and all the knowledge she has on the subject are frompurely clinical standpoints. The wisdom of old dead men on how totreat someone who is suffering from something impossible to healthrough conventional means. She knows this discover must come as ashock to Sole. She knows there are things she should do to comfortthem. But she’s unsure of where to begin. “Do you need to sitdown?” No response. They merely stare blankly at the paper in theirhands. “It is… fascinating a synth could develop such complexemotions as you have, non? If this is true, that is.” She takes afew cautious steps to their side. She tries smiling at them. “Youare all the more incredible. To have gained the autonomy… thehumanity you have gained. Ah, you are a miracle.” It maybe isn’t ascomforting as she might have hoped, and it doesn’t seem to lift theirspirits much, but they thank her anyway. It’s the truth really. Thisdiscovery just proved how extraordinary they truly were, even morethan when she thought they were human. They were a machine thattranscended beyond what they were designed for. She hoped to be likethem someday.

Danse (pre BlindBetrayal)- His mind whirls into a tail spin, his breath quickens. Asynth? He had been lied to this entire time by some synth plant inthe Brotherhood? He almost feels light headed. They had been privy tosome of the Brotherhood’s most guarded secrets- they had infiltratedthe Prydwen with such ease! They stood ten feet away from ElderMaxson. They could have killed him, could have killed any number ofhis brothers and sisters, and no one would have been quick enough tostop them. He put them all at risk by trusting a complete stranger.How could he have been so blind? He levels his weapon against theirhead. “Did you know about this?” he demands. He shouldn’t begiving them a chance to justify this, to lie to him even further. Heknows he has orders to kill synths on sight, but his need for answersin this moment eclipses his training. The shell-shocked look on theirface almost makes him flinch. “I didn’t… I swear, I didn’t.” Hegrips tighter to his weapon to calm the tremor in his hand. Thethings he had trusted them with… He had told them about Cutler.Suddenly the gun feels to heavy to keep aloft. He lets it fall,turning sharply away from them. He couldn’t, not again. It had takeneverything he had to put Cutler down when he found him, it had tornhim open. Even if they were a synth, he couldn’t be responsible forthe death of another person he considered a friend. “I never wantto see you again, do you understand? When I report this, you will bean enemy of the Brotherhood of Steel, and if you show your faceagain, I will have you shot.” He leaves them alone in that crampedoffice and doesn’t look back. Next time, he won’t be so weak.

Danse (post BlindBetrayal)- He wouldn’t wish this fate on anyone. His identity, hismemories, his very essence ripped away, through no fault of his own.It had been almost too much to stand. If Sole hadn’t have been therefor him, he knows he wouldn’t have been able to take it. He wouldn’tbe standing here with them now. Maxson would have had him destroyedif not for Sole, and if not Maxson, then… he remembers the way hehad admired his gun after his secret had been exposed. There was nodoubt in his mind that he would be dead either way. “I know itfeels like the world is coming down right now. Nothing I can say ordo will make that feeling go away. It takes time.” He took a deepbreath. “But it gets better. Even when if feels like it won’t.”He gingerly rests a hand on their back. “And I’ll be here.” Theyhad been his anchor to humanity. He’s almost grateful he has thechance to pay them back for that.

MacCready- Hedoesn’t know what to feel. Like he’s been lied to, by someone he’dnever met, didn’t even know the name of. More than anything, he hatesthe people who made Sole, who gave them such a good heart, and madethem suffer. His loss of Lucy and Duncan’s sickness had just beenlife being unfair and cruel, but someone made the conscious decisionto do this to Sole. Some shithead sat at a computer and mapped outeach heartbreak in their life. To give them a spouse and a child,make them feel that overwhelming love, and then to take it away. Forwhat? To test them? How cruel could a person really be? Machine ornot, Sole is his friend, they’ve proven that time and time again, andhe has nothing but hate for the sick bastards that toyed with themlike this. He takes their hand gently in his, coaxing the paper fromtheir shaking grip. “This doesn’t mean anything, hear me? Itchanges nothing.” He tears the paper in half, in thirds, into bitstoo small to put back together, and scatters them across the floor.He cradles their neck and the back of their head to force them tolook him in the eye. “This changes nothing.”

Deacon- He’d seenit before- a lot, actually. He was there when several synths came tothe realization they were constructed. The confusion and hurt was tobe expected. He hates to think there had been a time when he wouldn’thave accepted Sole, the person he had come to trust the most, whenthis news came to light. But more than anything, he feels suddenlymore protective of them. The Commonwealth was often cruel to thingsit didn’t understand, none more so than ghouls and synths. How manypeople, who once hailed Sole as a hero, would turn their backs onthem if this came to light? How many would do worse than that? Peopleturned on their own families if they thought they were synths,whether or not they were dangerous. He pushed his sunglasses off tolook Sole in the eye. “Nobody has to know about this,” he says,voice low, “We can just pretend we never saw this.” He cracksinto a smirk. “I mean, what super secret Institute document? Neverseen one of those!” They don’t look convinced, but he isn’t reallysure what could convince them. “You know I’ve got your back.Partner.” They finally look up from the paper to him. He flashesthem a smile and holds eye contact only for a moment, long enough toprove himself, before pushing his glasses back up the bridge of hisnose.

Cait- “Shite…”It’s all she can think to say. She never had much of an opinion aboutsynths- she thought the Institute was scummy, but before Sole broughther on board, she never got involved in the politics of theCommonwealth. If the Brotherhood was out of line, if the Railroad’scause was just, if the Institute had to be stopped- she never gave itmuch thought. They were all mad bastards as far as she was concerned.She never had to give much thought even to the concepts of synthetichumans. But this same attitude meant that, in the face of thisrevelation, she didn’t feel betrayed, or suspicious. She just saw afriend in need of comfort. She placed a hand on their shoulder. “Youalright?” She can feel them shaking ever so slightly, and squeezesthem a little harder. “Bastards, messing with people like this.”A smile plays on her lips, and she claps them on the back. “Youknow, I didn’t give my father nearly the beating he deserved. What doya’ say we rectify it with yours?”

Piper- One of herbiggest fears, the night terror she had for countless nights, was theInstitute replacing someone precious to her. She often dreamed of Natcoming home one day different. The difference that came when someonewas replicated. It filled her with dread and made her hate and fightthe Institute all the harder, knowing it could happen, that it hadhappened to people she knew- brothers, mothers, friends, all takenand never returned. She might not know them as intimately as she didNat or Sole, but she felt their grief. It feels… wrong, somehow.Even knowing the Sole she knows is the same one she has always known,the discovery of their origins sends chills down her spine. Lookingat them now, it was like looking at a stranger with a familiar face.All the confusion and traces of fear of having someone close to herreplaced with none of the replacing. She never thought she hatedsynths as a whole,- she hated lies, she hated the Institute forplanting synths and spreading uncertainty, but now she had toquestion her own feelings. This feels like one big lie. They turn toher with a lost look on their face. “Piper, I…” Their voicecracks. The ice she felt creeping into her heart melts. She has toremember her own words; whether they’re born or built, a person is aperson. She’d be the worst kind of hypocrite if she said such things,then turned around and gave her own friend the cold shoulder forthings beyond their control. She sighs and steps forward, twines herfingers around their wrist. “I know. We’ll… we’ll figure thisout, Blue.”

Preston- Hefidgets with the strap of his rifle, his hands restless. He wantsnothing more than to pull them into a hug. He can’t imagine what theymust be feeling. To wake up one morning and realize everything youthought you knew, everything you are, everything you’ve done, all ofit was unreal, it was beyond comprehension. He isn’t sure if he wouldbe able to handle it. But he’s always known Sole is strong, strongerthan him in a lot of ways. That’s what he’s always admired aboutthem. “General.” It’s just a simple word, he’d called them by thetitle a thousand times since he’d bestowed it on them, but saying itnow almost makes them jump. “I’m not-” they almost say. “Youare,” he interjects. “The Minutemen will still stand behind you.I know I will.” They start to turn away and he captures them by thefar shoulder, coaxing them back. “Whatever you were, you’ve provenyourself time and time again to be the kick in the ass theCommonwealth needs. You’re more than what you were made for.”

X6-88- They werenever meant to see these documents. He realized too late what theyhad stumbled across, and can only stare blankly at them when theyturn to him with accusations in their gaze. Father had personallybriefed him on this experiment, it was his job to observe them, neverletting on that he knew what he knew. Now they were compromised. “Isthis true?” they ask in a shaking, yet commanding voice. “Youweren’t supposed to-” They push past him through the door, clutchingthe paper in their fist. “Sir/ma'am, just wait a moment. Allow meto explain-” “This explains it perfectly well!” He sighs,watching their back retreat. “Beta 0 9 volaris,” he calls out,and they stopped dead in their tracks. Their grip on the documentwent slack, their head drooping as every tense muscle in their bodywent limp. He’d been advised only to use their recall code in extremesituations, otherwise it would be weeks, maybe even months ofInstitute’s work down the drain. If any situation called for it, thiswas the one. He crosses to them in a few long strides. “For whatit’s worth,” he says, though he knows they can’t hear him in thisstate, “I have never considered anyone remarkable until I met you.”He relays to the Institute and hands them in to be reprogrammed.

#SO MANY MISTAKES #if i forgot someone i will eat my own face #i feel they arent very varied but like?? all the companions except danse are pretty cool with synths so i mean #fallout 4 #companion reactions #maccready #nick valentine #cait #curie #x6-88 #paladin danse #deacon #hancock #preston garvey #piper wright #synth!sole #synth #long post

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