A/N : IF YOU HAVE NOT ALREADY, READ THE CONTEXT PAGE. YOU WILL BE HEAVILY CONFUSED IF NOT!
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{|second.person.y/n.pov|}
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It was an afternoon like any other. Sitting by the balcony in the back room of your office, which doubled as your home, feeling the slightest breeze from the dry, burnt air of Diamond City just barely nudging your (h/l) (h/c). You often sat this way in the afternoons when no one needed any of your... skills. The seat you sat on faced the Diamond City square, and had you been able to see, you would have a wonderful view of the people purchasing noodles and stopping at the barbershop. It filled you with a sense of deep calm, especially since your father's spirit was taking a nap on the couch (You assumed it was the couch, you could see his outline floating, lying down on something long). You heard the clicking of nails against the floor, and turned from your trance to see the old lady who often followed your dog, Dogmeat, steadying what seemed to be Dogmeat himself as he nudged the needle on your scrounged and refurbished record player. Soon enough, the sound of your favorite musician, Fred Astaire, filled your apartment. A smile flicked across your face, and you tapped your feet to the tune of 'Cheek to Cheek'."What, you want to dance, boy?" Dogmeat had nudged you out of your chair and you started to swing your arms, taking care not to move your feet too much, as your faithful dog was 'dancing' around himself and was too busy to make sure you didn't bump into anything. Your father soon woke up, but stayed in his ever sunny disposition as he stretched and started to dance himself, encouraging you along the way, "That's it, (Y/N)! Time to move those limbs of yours!"
Your laughter and the music drifted from the open balcony door, nearly but not quite into the Diamond City square. It could, however, be heard from the alleys outside. As the record ended, you were still giggling as you closed the balcony door. It was near dark now, and you needed to see what supplies you had for dinner. As you checked the cooler, you could only feel 3 more packs of cooked meat and 4 bottles of purified water left. Either you needed to stop by the store, or you would ask one of your neighbors to help cook the raw meat.
All thoughts of your next meal were pushed to the back of your mind, though, when you heard a knock on the outside door, the one to the stairs down into the alleyway.
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{|third.person.nick.pov|}
-Nick's latest case has been... fruitless. A man had come in, telling how he had been cryogenically frozen for 210 years, and had his infant son stolen in front of him. And was promptly frozen again. That last part was the one that gave the synth detective doubts, being frozen again. Neither he nor the man had any idea how long it had been since he was refrozen, although his client was sure it was very recent.
Nick was never one to be unnecessarily harsh if he wasn't at least 76% sure about whatever he was saying. And so, he had refrained from telling the man (whose name turned out to be Nate) that he suspected his son had grown old and died already. Nick was no expert on dead people, except the part where they died. He had heard of the Receiver, and her unique talent to see ghosts and spirits left behind on Earth, when she herself was blind. He thought if Nate's son Shaun had truly died, surely he would hang around his father and The Receiver would be able to talk to him.
That was how he found himself gazing up at a balcony that echoed with music and laughter, one late afternoon. Soon though, the music stopped and he heard the click of the balcony door being locked for the night. Mildly disappointed, Nick made his way up the ramp to the door to the office of The Spirit Phone.
knock knock knock
After a few moments, the door unlocked and a (skin tone) face peeked out, pale (e/c) eyes with blocked up pupils gazed through the crack. A gasp seemed to escape the (short/tall) woman, and the door opened fully. A bit startled, Nick hesitated before introducing himself.
"Hi. Nick Valentine, private eye. I take it you are the 'Receiver' ?"
{755 words}
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[SLOW]°•{GHOSTS OF THE PAST}•° - a Nick Valentine x Reader fanfiction.
Fanfiction{none of the art is by me unless specified otherwise} A blind woman can see ghosts. She's been known to talk to said ghosts, and has been consoling citizens and visitors to Diamond City alike. She's caught the attention of the local detective, a syn...