Diane: Fluff (Fake Relationship)
Full Rare Pair Randomizer Masterlist
Diane x Fem!Reader (She/Her pronouns used)
1.3k words
Warnings: Mentions of drugs, dealing drugs (I mean, it's Diane)
When Courier Six had taken a job to run drugs to some New Vegas strip big wig alongside Diane, she hadn’t expected to end up here, hiding in some cupboard in the Ultra-Luxe with plenty of confused feelings. It had all started a few days ago, when Six had gone to Jack and Diane asking for a job.
“Any new jobs for me?” She’d asked, happily accepting the caps for completing the previous one.
Diane had given Six a curious expression, as if sizing them up. “Yes, I do. It’s a bit of a tough one, but I think we could manage.” Jack had perked up at this, seeming to know whatever it was that Diane was thinking about.
“Diane, no way in hell are you doing that job without me.” Jack stood up, waving his hands about. Jack was always protective of Diane, and in the Mojave Wasteland, Six couldn’t blame him.
“Jack, you know damn well they won’t let you in New Vegas after last time.” Diane guffawed. At Six’s confused expression, and Jack’s embarrassed one, she gleefully explained it to the not-so-ex-courier, “Jack here got a little too rowdy at the Tops and punched the NCR ambassador. Asshole probably deserved it, but Jack’s not in prison only because he booked it outta there.”
“So I gotta get some product to the strip, okay. Where do you come in?” Six asked Diane.
“You see, they don’t just let anybody in to the Ultra-Luxe. I got my contact to let me in, but I need backup in case those freaks decide I oughta be their next meal.” She explained.
And so it began. They’d set off in the morning, reached Freeside soon enough and bought some formal wear from Mick and Ralph’s. Six couldn’t help but notice Diane in the dress she’d bought, considering her usual attire. “What?” She’d teased, noting the surprised expression on Six’s face, “How many chances do you think I have to dress up back home?”
“Oh, I’m not judging, you look great in red.” Six had said, ignoring the frog in their throat whenever they glanced at her. Six wasn’t lying – the shimmering red fabric, despite the few flaws inescapable in the post-apocalypse, clung to her skin and flattered her body. Her blue eyes stuck out like crystals now, even in the dim light of the general store.
“You look plenty beautiful yourself.” Diane had said in response, ducking her head to hide the pink in her sun-kissed cheeks.
They’d paid and headed off to the Ultra-luxe, passing by the robot guards with the code-word their client had given them. The job so far had been easy, even a little too easy, so it wasn’t shocking to Six when they got held up at the entrance to the ostentatious casino.
“Hello, and welcome to the Ultra-Luxe. May I ask your intentions here? Simply a precaution.” The security had asked through his ever-creepy mask. Considering the increased security presence, Six doubted it was just a precaution, and looking at Diane’s furrowed brows, Six had a feeling they’d been tipped off about the whole job.
“This is preposterous!” Diane had begun, playing the part of a snooty rich person, “Me and my wife here have been travelling for weeks, and you accost us here? Like this?”
Six felt hot at Diane’s words, and it took all their strength to not make an awkward noise when Diane all but threw herself into Six with dramatic flair. Remembering the security staring them down, Six got into character too.
“You see how you’ve upset my wife? We thought this was a classy establishment! One that didn’t treat their customers like common vagrants!” Six declared, holding Diane against herself in an attempt to appear calm, disgruntled, but protective. In truth, Six’s heart was pounding so hard, Diane might be able to hear it.
The security cleared their throat. “I apologize for the inconvenience, madame, right this way to reception.”
Peeling herself away from Six, Diane shot the security a dazzling smile before walking to the reception, arm in arm with Six.
The rest of the deal went fairly smoothly, and they had even found some time to enjoy the commodities of the ultra-fancy Ultra-Luxe before their scheduled meet-up with the client. After a flute of white wine, Diane had kissed Six on the cheek, and Six wondered if she could stay in their fake roles forever.
The deal, compared to their entrance, went smoothly enough. They handed off the product and received plenty of caps in exchange, the usual. It wasn’t until they were headed towards the elevator down to leave the hotel rooms when the sight of a guard interrogating a man in a gambler’s suit that they paused. He had knocked on the man’s door and pulled him out, and if it weren’t for the tense situation Six would’ve gotten a chuckle at the man’s lipstick-covered face and neck.
“So you have not heard of any suspicious activity in our fine establishment? No mention of any Great Khans?” The guard said, his voice filling with venom and disgust when he said the name of the Great Khans. Diane and Six looked at each other, before Diane grabbed Six by the hand and led them into a crevice around the corner, up against a hotel room door. Diane knocked, then turned to Six when no sound came out.
“I need you to pick the lock.” Diane whispered, “I have an idea to get out of this, but I need you to trust me.”
Six nodded, anxiety in their veins making it hard to hold the bobby pin still, but they heard that familiar click and cracked open the door. As the security finished with the man, Diane once more told Six to trust her, before pulling Six into a gentle kiss. After the initial shock wore off, Six kissed back, allowing Diane to intensify it. Six found that she wished it was real as Diane pressed her chest against Six’s, their bodies fitting like puzzle pieces against each other. Diane slipped her tongue into Six’s mouth, eliciting a quiet moan from her.
When the security guard turned the corner, he saw a couple who couldn’t even wait until they reached their room to begin making love. He cleared his throat, but the two women were so absorbed in each other they barely noticed. When one cracked open their room door, he was satisfied enough that they were meant to be there, doubting the filthy vagabonds that dared to run drugs in their fine establishment could afford the couple’s suite. He walked away, deciding that dealing with this couple was not worth his time.
Diane pulled Six into the room and securely locked the door after them as the guard walked away. She smiled at Six, who looked as flustered as that man pulled from his room had. Looking around the room, Six noticed the ridiculous heart-shaped entirely silver-coated tub. She then looked at their still clasped hands. “Want to make this real before we go?” Six asked, possessed by a momentary confidence that vanished into thin air when the words left her mouth.
She always thought Diane was pretty, but hadn’t thought of her romantically until tonight, and Six found she didn’t want to stop. However, if Diane had simply been that good of an actress, Six would have to accept that, and the thought made her heart ache. However, that was not a problem tonight, when Diane beamed a genuine, toothy smile at Six before almost knocking the two of them over with the force of her kiss. As she ran a hand down Six’s body and over her hips, Six decided she loved acting now, if it led to Diane touching her so lovingly she might burst.
So, I was feeling silly and made a series of wheels that would give me a random minor character, a genre, and a concept that would work in that genre, and now I present you with this series of 12 fics. I have finished one so far, but the rest are soon incoming. This may have been the most unexpectedly fun writing thingy I've ever done. Enjoy.
btw, here is the character wheel in all it's absurdity.
For the sake of my sanity I've organized it by game, then its Character: Genre (Prompt)
Warning(s): just regular smut for the most part. nothing freaky other than a notable size difference.
I hope this had enough praise for y'all (insert that emoji with the awkward smile and a single tear)
Sole entered Erickson’s camp with a very specific goal in mind, and a hopefully helpful outfit hidden under their usual get-up. Erickson was intelligent, which led him to often worrying about things that he didn’t need to, such as Sole’s blatant attempts at flirting with him.
They’d been friends for a while now, and Erickson had watched with quiet admiration as Sole had explored the island and proved their strength and skill time and time again. He told Sole about this, and they’d been a goner for the mutant ever since.
“Hey, Erickson.” Sole called into the aircraft as they ascended into his usual spot, one of the dogs he was training rushing up to greet them. Giving the pup a few pats, Sole hears Erickson call back from where he stored most of his gear. Sole guessed and immediately was proven right as to what he was doing – organizing his latest haul from the last time he went out hunting and/or scavenging.
“You have returned yet again. Are you looking to trade?” He asked, his tone maintaining a forced evenness that confused Sole.
“I suppose we might as well do some trading before I need to leave again,” Sole shrugged, “but that’s not why I came.”
At this, Erickson paused his sorting to face Sole. Now standing at his full height, Sole couldn’t help but wonder at how tall he was. They eyed him up and down, before realizing what they were doing. Sole cleared their throat in an attempt to clear the tension that had quickly filled their mutual silence.
“Sole, is everything alright?” Erickson questioned. Sole nodded.
“Yes, I’m fine, but we are not.” They declared. Their cheeks went hot.
“Wha-what do you mean?” Erickson replied, stumbling on his words as he considered the implications.
“I want you, and if you don’t want me that’s okay, but I’ll be damned if I don’t at least try at us.” Sole sputtered out, each word more frantic than the last. This conversation had played out far more smoothly in their head, but confronting their feelings head-on was no easy task.
“You had asked me before if I was ever interested in humans. Is this why?” He asked, his hand brushing his chin as he stared at anything but Sole.
“Yes, and I am asking you if you want me.” They said.
“Well, of course. I mean, I have thought of it. We may not be compatible. Physically, I mean.” He said. Sole found out then that super mutants were capable of blushing.
“I’m willing to give it a shot.” Sole told him, eyeing him with what they hoped exuded confident intensity. At this, Erickson grasped at their clothes, his hand sliding to grip Sole’s arm before leading them to his very large bed. While he directed the dogs in the room to leave before closing any doors, Sole slipped out of their clothes, revealing the satin negligee they were too embarrassed to admit they’d spent weeks looking for. Their friends back on the mainland had been deeply confused why Sole needed a pristine lingerie set, but eventually they’d given up their prodding and Sole took the boat to Far Harbour first thing in the morning.
It was a rich, dark red, with black lace detailing and was easily the most decadent clothing they’d touched since the bombs dropped. So, it was perfect for hopefully convincing anyone (or any mutant) that this was a good idea. Erickson turned around and noticed the satin piece, freezing as his eyes trailed over how it accentuated Sole’s figure and just barely reached their thighs.
“Sole,” he’d said in a tone that made them think of someone witnessing a miracle, “is this… for me?”
“Well, of course.” Sole had said, echoing Erickson’s words from earlier.
He moved over to the bed in quick strides, laying back against the large mattress made of tarps, rope, and tires as he piece-by-piece removed his armour, Sole watching enraptured the entire time. He froze at the piece covering his crotch, his hands stalling as his fingers grazed the hem. Sole crawled over to him, sliding their fingers against his delightfully rough skin until they hooked under his loincloth. They looked to him, waiting for permission which came in the form of a careful nod, before sliding it off of his large frame to reveal an equally large cock.
If Sole’s mouth watered at the sight, they’d never admit it, but the sight was shocking and deliriously enticing all at once. “Can I…” Their voice trailed off as their fingers moved towards his member, asking for permission to touch him.
“You can do whatever to me, and I would be happy.” He answered, his hand pushing a strand of loose hair out of Sole’s face. Sole blushed, unable to help it.
They wrapped their fingers around him, their hand making a “C” as they failed to wrap all the way around his girth. Sole took a deep breath before placing an experimental kiss along the side of it. Erickson’s leg twitched.
“You are capable of great things with your lips.” Erickson stuttered out, straining against the urge to jut his hips up against the air.
At his enthusiastic response, Sole licked a stripe up the bottom of his shaft, reaching the tip and wrapping their mouth around it, lightly sucking at the tip. Erickson was reduced to grunting, though he somehow managed praises between them.
“You are beautiful, Sole.” And,
“You could fell empires.” And even,
“Joy has been ruined for me, nothing will ever top this.”
Sole attempted to push his cock further into their mouth, but the girth simply did not allow it. Stubbornly, they wrapped their two hands around his base and continued to lick and suck his tip, relishing in each grunt, twitch, and exclamation. Soon, they were stopped by Erickson abruptly pushing them off of him. He held them up as he caught his breath, his cock twitching against the air.
“I apologize, I was going to finish. It was too soon. You deserve more first.” He explained once he caught his breath.
Sole opened their mouth to reply, but all that came out was a pathetic squeak as Erickson turned the both of them around, knocking the air out of their lungs. He loomed over them, their eye contact leaving both unable to speak. Erickson placed a kiss to their lips, one that was unimaginably tender, then he kissed their neck, then licked their jaw, before continuing with a procession of soft bites and kisses until he reached their pelvis. Sole could not fully bend their knees due to the mass of flesh under them after he pushed their legs over his broad back and shoulders.
Sole learned that his tongue was as textured as his skin very quickly, as he lapped at their heat with a pace and speed that felt nearly impossible. He looked up into Sole’s eyes before diving back in, gently sucking on their clit which wrought out several moans from them. He continued, not slowing down until Sole’s moans increased in tempo drastically and their legs were trembling against his shoulders. Sole cried out as the pressure built and snapped in their core, their hands grasping at anything they could grab as they finished on his tongue.
Erickson sat up and wiped his chin with his forearm, “You are delicious,” he said as if drunk, words slurred and pupils dilated. “I think you are perfect, and I cannot give you up after tonight.”
“I don’t think I could either.” Sole sighed out as they caught their breath. When Erickson moved himself up to place a tender kiss against their jaw, they felt his painfully hard cock poke their stomach, and decided to do something about it.
“Beautiful human,” Erickson declared between kisses, “How the mutants ever thought themselves superior is baffling now.”
Sole pushed him away before attempting to flip them back over. Realizing their intentions, Erickson quickly assisted, holding Sole in his lap as he landed on his back. Sole reached two fingers into their mouth before wrapping a hand around his cock, adding whatever additional lubricant they could before attempting something they were not fully certain would succeed.
“You do not have to, Sole, if you do not want to,” Erickson told them, “I already received all I have dreamed.” His words only spurred Sole on, who swiftly lined up their entrance with his girth, and let gravity pull them down. It burned, but in a pleasant way, as Sole sunk down his shaft, one hand on his pelvis to keep themselves steady. Taking a deep breath, Sole let themselves sink to the bottom, his cock fitting snugly against their cervix, the pressure of which felt blindingly good.
Sole let out a whimper at the delicious feeling of having Erickson inside of them. After the initial pleasant shock wore off, Sole ground themselves against his pelvis as Erickson ground his teeth together, his large hands grazing Sole’s hips. Unable to wait any longer, Sole lifted themselves up before moving back down, placing Erickson’s hands more firmly on their hips to which he began assisting them in their movements. The sound of their bodies moving in rhythm with each other was lewd, but Sole loved it in this moment, mixing harmoniously with the deep grunts and growls of their far larger partner.
A familiar pressure built in Sole’s core as they bounced on his girth, its texture hitting all the right spots. Erickson’s cock twitched once, then again, sending Sole over the edge, his own release quickly following. Going limp from the strength of their orgasm, Sole laid against his chest as Erickson effortlessly continued his thrusts, making the tension that had built in both of them snap as they reached climax simultaneously. Erickson was careful to pull out, his release splattering against his and Sole’s stomachs as Sole’s own fluids coated their thighs.
Sole laid against his wide chest, breathing heavily in tune with Erickson’s own breathing. The super mutant wrapped their arms around his partner with extreme gentleness, bending his neck to place a kiss into Sole’s hair.
“You are unparalleled.” Was the last thing he said to Sole before he carefully removed them from his chest and onto his bed. He left for a moment, only to return with a pot of water and a washcloth. He cleaned up the mess they had happily made with the soft towel, being especially careful around Sole’s entrance, which considering their sensitivity post-orgasm was greatly appreciated. Once finished, Erickson cleaned himself off before joining Sole in his bed, pulling them against his chest, holding them in his arms in a way that made Sole feel loved and infinitely safe.
Their life on the mainland would have to wait, as Sole decided they would allow themselves a small vacation to enjoy a few lazy mornings (and second-rounds) with Erickson.
Hey , sister . If you're up to it , could I please request a Preston period fic ? Thank you !!!
I just realized you specifically mentioned a fic but I also wrote headcanons, very sorry myspace-apologist (insert sad emoji here)
Ugh love any requests for Preston. Literally so underrated and had his incredibly interesting backstory and character arc screwed over by Bethesda's coding.
ANyways.
Preston Garvey Period HCs
Fluff
Warnings: Period and menstruation stuff
We all agree he had a bunch of siblings growing up right? I always feel like he’s very youngest child coded, and that specifically he has 3 older brothers and 1 older sister. Is that relevant to this? No. But he is written as having had at least one sister in this. How did his parents survive with 5 kids in the wasteland? No idea.
Anyways,,,
Preston Garvey is probably the single-best person in the entire Commonwealth to go to about your period other than perhaps Curie. The ball of sunshine that is Preston Garvey just wants everyone around him to be happy even at the cost of himself.
He grew up in the Commonwealth wasteland, and so nobody had the time or resources to be shy about issues of menstruation, and so while he never experienced it personally, he’d heard plenty about it from his family and friends. He helped out enough as a kid to know the proper ways to clean blood from fabric and handled more than his fair share of supply runs when a sibling needed or craved something.
He was also a Minuteman, an organization with no gender or sex restrictions, and it’s unlikely they had much opportunity for rest regarding things such as periods. I’m sure he’s seen every kind of period-induced mood swing known to man (and is terrified of the consequences after witnessing the rage one of his fellow Minutemen entered when a group of raiders dared to interrupt their nap).
AKA Preston Garvey has seen it all. All meaning everything period-related that is.
He seems like the kind of guy who (if he lived in the real world) would have a period tracker app on his phone where he copies the data from his partner’s app so that he can be aware and surprise them. Literal angel.
Have a craving? Preston is there. Within reason of course. He will lecture you if you ask for any alcohol or non-pain-related chems. He does so out of love, and he’s really trying his best. However, he will get you ten boxes of sugar bombs if it’s the last thing he’ll do.
Regardless, he will still have a mini panic whenever he catches a blood stain on your clothes. What can he say? He’s a worrier before anything else.
Some you as the Sole-Survivor headcanons (aka mentions of pre-war culture and stuff, and being in cryo-sleep):
Pre-war society seems to be heavily gendered and occasionally restrictive, and so I can imagine periods aren’t exactly a super normal topic, especially not between a man and woman! Curse the thought!
If you aren’t shy about your period, you might be surprised at first by his – by your standards – rather blasé reaction, but you’ll quickly adjust and, if anything, be grateful that he’s understanding and normal about the whole thing.
If you mention pre-war attitudes about periods and menstruation, believe me that he will look like you just told him the sky is not blue. He will go on a speech about how “that’s ridiculous. It’s a normal process. What, did you folks not talk about eating either?” before proceeded to shake his head with polite disdain.
If you’re on the shier side, however, especially if it’s influenced by pre-war society…
When you seem to never mention periods around him, he doesn’t pry. It’s the post-nuclear fallout, and so it’s plenty common that people miss or stop having their periods entirely for a variety of reasons. (Especially if he knows you were literally in cryo-sleep for like 210 years)
It isn’t until he wakes you up one night, terrified that you’d reopened a wound or had hidden an injury that you had to awkwardly explain you were on your period and you managed to leak in the weirdest way. He is much more chill than a pre-war person would expect, and you can rest assured he’ll be even more of an absolute angel over the course of the next few days. After telling you that you could’ve just told him, of course.
Believe that the two of you will discuss the topic in-depth next time you get a chance, and Preston will assure you until he can drive the point home that it’s nothing to feel strange about, and that he’s seen it all.
Preston knocked on the door to the General’s quarters with a gentle hand.
You’d locked yourself in there the previous evening, and while he knew he couldn’t dictate the actions of a grown adult, he could damn well worry about you. Lord knows he couldn’t stop worrying about you if he tried.
Regardless, here he was, clearing his throat as he listened for any movement beyond the door. After a few moments, he heard some grumbling and shuffling before the recognizable sound of old locks being pulled open in an old door. You opened the door a crack, before recognizing the knocker as Preston and stepping aside to let him slip through the crack. He shut the door after himself, careful to not let it shut harshly on its squeaky hinges that desperately needed a look-at by a proper repairman. The door could wait for tomorrow, though. Whatever was going on that made you look so tired took priority.
“General? Are you alright?” He questioned, clenching his fist to ignore the urge to inspect you for injury.
“If I explain, do you promise to just call me Y/N instead?” You joked, though the humour didn’t make much difference in your expression, your face haunted by comparatively pallid skin and dark circles under your eyes. Preston frowned when he noticed this.
“Sorry, just force of habit.” Preston said, “Either way, something is clearly wrong.”
You nodded, his words appearing to have appeased you.
“I got my period. I’ll be fine, but it sucks right now.” You explained, returning to your bed where a veritable nest of blankets and pillows had formed, not with intention but rather the chaotic sleeping patterns and habits of someone in regular pain.
A few empty boxes of your favourite snack stood on your end table, as well as a metal flask. Preston narrowed his eyes at the flask. When you noticed this, you explained, “Oh, I’ve been using it as a heating pad. If I miss anything pre-war, it’s heating pads. I put some hot water in a flask, and it works well-enough.”
Preston made a mental note of this so that he could prepare and keep ready a steady supply of hot-water-filled flasks for you next time this happened, or to suggest it to his friends.
“Do you need anything else right now? I can see if we have anymore of your favourite snack in the kitchen.” Preston Offered.
You shook your head. “I’d like your company, if anything.”
Preston was more than happy to fulfil that request.
As you two talked, he began to slowly clean your quarters. He walked over to the pile of empty boxes and swept them into his arms, where he carried them to a nearby trash can. Wordlessly, he fluffed your pillows and untangled your blankets. When your room was as clean as it could get without Preston leaving, he sat next to you on the mattress, gently brushing a hand through your hair.
He continued this, listening to your ramblings as he gently massaged your scalp, until you finally slipped into the relief of sleep once more. He smiled at your relaxed face, the tension in your brow dissipating.
TLDR: Absolute angel sunshine darling wants you to be happy. Yay! Period sucks. Oh no ☹. But Absolute angel sunshine darling good so now you happy too. Yay!
Im pretty sure your requests are open but if not, ignore! but i was wondering if we could get some domestic deacon hc’s with a male sosu?
Yes they are (pretend there's a sunglasses emoji here)
This ended up a little angsty at the beginning oops
Domestic Deacon Headcanons
Fluff, Light Angst
Warnings: Mentions of a spider?
(This can be read as gender-neutral as well, other than a mention of being called "grandpa" jokingly.)
It takes Deacon a while to truly warm up to anything ‘domestic’. He’ll be very fake-it-till-you-make-it about the whole thing. He needs some time to process what happened with Barbara, and doing anything domestic reminds him of her and the life they tried to have. This doesn’t mean he doesn’t care for you; he loves you if he’s willing to face his fears considering he’s a professional problem-avoider. It just takes him a little longer to be truly comfortable with you than most other people.
At first, he’s very over-the-top. When your relationship starts he struggles to manage whenever there isn’t something to preoccupy his thoughts, and so the quiet moments make him jittery and act up his character. He’ll bring you lavish gifts, tell you all the cliches, but it feels more aloof and avoidant than light-hearted joking.
It comes to a head when you two are sitting at your house and you’re doing something around the house, like sweeping or fixing the leak in the water pipes for the millionth time that week, and he cannot help but go a little crazy in the domesticity of it all. You two argue, and he opens up, and it’s almost good. A final pep talk from Desdemona in which she told him to “let yourself be happy, you idiot” made it great.
He comes home that evening with something small but thoughtful for a gift, something you truly want, and you two talk everything over. It won’t magically fix his trauma, but if you keep looking at him with nothing but love and support, Deacon’s convinced he can work through anything.
Once he’s comfortable, his dramatic gestures cease (not entirely, he’s inherently a diva I fear and loves dramatically bursting through the door with a loud “Honey, I’m home!”)
In their place are quiet evenings. Under the stars on the roof of your house, a blanket under the two of you with a box of snack cakes split between the two of you. A dinner you love prepared by Codsworth - because Deacon can’t cook to save his life - and the remnants of his attempt in the sink. Holding each other as you fall asleep, Diamond City Radio playing softly from the radio in the living room.
As mentioned before, Deacon can’t cook. You realized the jokes made by other members of the Railroad were made for a reason when he managed to burn water. Neither of you, nor Sturges could figure out how it happened. It became the gossip of Sanctuary Hills for a week. Since then, you two agreed to either let you cook, or if you’re equally hopeless in the kitchen, to ask Codsworth.
He will never admit to it, and will argue the point incessantly, but he snores horribly when he sleeps. The thing is, he isn’t entirely lying; when on ops he doesn’t snore, only when he’s with you. He eventually realizes it’s because he never could stay asleep long enough elsewhere, whether because of fear or nightmares (or both), but when your arms are around him in your shared bed, he is comfortable in a way he’d never been before.
Was that healthy? No. But neither is living in a post-nuclear wasteland, to be fair.
You learn he sits in chairs like a dad, with that stereotypical huff and everything, and you start to jokingly refer to him as “Pops” for a week. He gets his payback when your knees crack loud enough mid-op that they alert the turrets. He proceeded to spend a week calling you Grandpa.
He’s the one in the relationship that rescues all the bugs. You can’t live in the basement of a church surrounded by skeletons without becoming familiar with every kind of spider that survived the bombs. There’s a daddy long legs in the kitchen he calls “Roger”. He refuses to let you kill it as he keeps your kitchen free of other insects. He will argue that he’s more of a freeloader than Roger is, and claim that he’s simply the househusband, while Roger is your valiant bodyguard. Just let him have this one.
He’s the small spoon. Argue with the wall. I don’t care if you’re physically smaller than him - he is the small spoon.
TLDR: Bald man have bad memories. Bald man try his best. Bald man silly and happy now.
Hancock, Macready, Deacon, and Preston Garvey reacting to Sole Survivor in their clothes
Fluff, Mentions of NSFW
Warnings: Not fully smut, but def NSFW. Some drinking in Preston's segment.
A disclaimer that will be relevant later: I am Canadian and so I use Celsius (the superior temperature measurement, argue with the wall) (To clarify this is a joke) (mostly)
Hancock
You cannot tell me this man does not have a thing for seeing Sole in his clothes. He’d all but beg you to wear them, in and out of the bedroom.
The first time it happened was during a rad storm. You’d underestimated the speed of the approaching storm, and soon he was silently panicking as you faded away, trying and failing to hide how poorly you felt from him. He draped his coat and hat over you, protecting your skin from the rain as he carried you until the first bit of safe shelter he could find.
When you woke up that morning, he decided the sight of you in his coat and hat was the best thing in the world. He’d toss every ounce of jet he owned into the vat of lava at the ironworks if it meant he could see you like that every morning.
If he was strangely doting that morning, it was mostly because you were ill, but it was also because it provided him an excuse to keep looking at you. He felt bad about it, but when you picked up on it and teased him about it, it became a thing between the two of you.
Seeing you on top of him in his coat and hat? That might just do it for him alone.
Hancock watched as you lorded over him, tilting your hat as if greeting him while he laid on his back and begged for mercy from whatever higher power was out there. You were upright on your knees, in nothing but a nice set of underwear you planned to surprise him with and his coat and hat, overtop of his torso.
Hancock decided then that you would be the death of him, and he would die happy.
“You seem pleased with yourself.” He drawled, chuckling at your smug expression.
You laughed at this, placing your hands by his head as you leaned in, then sat back on his torso. If you felt Hancock Jr. against your lower back, you were not acknowledging it, much to his chagrin as he was quickly growing more and more frustrated. In a good way, that is - but still frustrated.
“Don’t act like you don’t love it.” You tease, and it takes every ounce of self-control in him to not flip the two of you over.
“Oh, I do, Sunshine. Believe me, I do.” He told her, his hands roaming over the expanse of her skin, tracing her hips and down her thighs, relishing in her anticipatory shiver.
“Tease.” She crossed her arms, the smug smirk returning.
“Takes one to know one – is that how that saying goes?” He teased in return.
Hancock had mayoral duties to attend to that morning. He did not get to them, in a shocking twist that surprised everyone. When Fahrenheit came looking for him after a several hour absence, she took one look at the two of you fast asleep while tangled together before letting out a loud sigh and an exasperated (but amused) “Of fucking course.”
MacCready
He’s incredibly possessive of his stuff at first, including his clothes. Think Boone with his beret: he will not let go of it if you take his hat or anything from him.
One day, when staying for a few days in Sanctuary Hills to sort something out, you decide to pull a prank on him. When he slips away into the bathroom of the house you two are sharing to take a bath, you put on his whole usual get-up, bullet straps and all. When he comes out to find you, you expect him to get annoyed but laugh at the light-hearted prank, but instead he turns bright red, and his jaw drops open.
If this were a cartoon, he’d have heart eyes.
You don’t notice at first, still laughing at yourself in the mirror, the clothes ill-fitting and costume-ish on your smaller frame. It isn’t until he’s unusually silent that you pause and notice the bright red overtaking his face.
MacCready definitely blushes bright red. He hates it.
After he short-circuits at the sight of you, he forgets all previously arranged plans and instead he learns you look great writhing under him while you bite into his scarf so that the neighbours don’t hear. The houses in Sanctuary Hills aren’t exactly soundproof after 200 or so years and a plethora of holey walls.
He’s too awkward to ask you to wear his clothes for him at first, and instead comes up with increasingly ridiculous scenarios for why you need to wear them. Every time you tell him that he can just ask you to wear his clothes, but it still takes him a while.
You and MacCready had been lightly arguing the topic all evening, ever since you’d arrived at Tenpines Bluff. The place had some housing built, but it didn’t have any other space for the two of you, and you refused to let any of the settlers sleep outside. Instead, you were now in your small tent, where MacCready was insisting you would get frostbite and needed to wear his scarf and duster to bed.
“MacCready, it’s maybe – at the coldest - 10 degrees outside. I’ll be fine. Besides, by those standards you’ll be exposed too. I’ve got plenty of blankets, anyways.” You explained away each of his arguments, pinching the bridge of your nose as you explained to him once more that you two would not freeze in the night.
Then, your mind went to last week, and you couldn’t help but giggle.
“What’s funny?” He asked, genuinely confused.
In response, you pulled his hat off of his head, ruffled out his hat-flattened hair, and placed the cap on your head. “If you wanted to see me in your clothes, you could’ve just asked.”
“No, I just-“ MacCready began, before letting out an agitated breath. His eyes went to the blankets, then to you, then to his hat resting on your head, and he decided to pick his battles. He leaned in and almost knocked the hat off your head with the force of his kiss.
You two were plenty warm that evening.
Deacon
Deacon doesn’t have a “thing” for you in his clothes, especially considering he doesn’t have a typical look outside his glasses, but know he will not complain if you put on his sunglasses. He’ll be annoyingly smug, as long as you two are in private.
If you’re in public, he’ll probably just snatch them right back. He’s not really for public displays in general, unless a mission requires it.
He’s never associated you in his glasses or clothes with anything particular, as it was something that happened as a light-hearted bit you’d do even when you two were essentially just friendly coworkers. Coworkers that shot people together, but still coworkers.
You’d slip on his sunglasses before doing a god-awful impression of him. While Deacon may joke about being in love with his reflection, seeing you impersonating him didn’t exactly get him going.
It wasn’t until you slipped them on nonchalantly, placing them into your hair because you wanted to see his eyes that he considered it at all.
You looked up at him, panting as you pulled off his sunglasses and slipped them onto your face. He saw his own desire for you reflected in the glasses, which almost startled him out of what you were in the middle of. If he weren’t still inside you, his hard-on half gone, he’d probably have done exactly that and felt extremely silly about it afterwards.
You smiled at him, and he realized he liked seeing your eyes. It would make it clear if you were smiling at him in a good way or a bad way. He hoped good, for obvious reasons.
“Your eyes are pretty, let me see ‘em more, Deek.” You requested of him, and he couldn’t help but immediately agree to fulfil that request. If it weren’t incredibly embarrassing to admit to vulnerability, he’d ask the good doctor if it were possible to be addicted to pleasing a person.
He slid the glasses up and into her hair, revealing her eyes as well. “Well, can’t be only one of us that’s naked.” He joked, referring to the glasses.
“Oh, of course. Curse the thought.” You retort, running a hand across his cheek and through his hair, with a touch so gentle he’d think he was dreaming if it wasn’t for the stickiness where they had just disconnected that they’d soon need to deal with unless they wanted a very unpleasant morning.
Currently, though, he was leaning into your hand, quietly wishing you never stopped touching him. You smile at him again, and one look in your eyes tells him it’s one of pure affection. His eyes widen, the sight leaving him feeling like you’d not just gotten him naked, but peeled off his skin and flesh too until it was just his soul rattling around his skeleton.
You moved to put the glasses back on him, but he instead took them from your hand and placed them to the side, before leaning into you once more.
Preston Garvey
He ceases to function much like Macready, but he won’t pretend he doesn’t love the sight of you in his get-up. He’s a praise guy both ways, and that is only spurred on by you wearing his clothes. Readjust his hat whilst it’s on your head with a wink and he’s melted at your feet.
First time it happens is when you’re both drunk and leaning on each other after a party celebrating retaking the Castle, and you slip his hat onto your head with a tipsy giggle. He doesn’t remember much of that night - he pretty much blacked out after that - but his memory of you - with the full moon illuminating the edges of your silhouette - is clear as day.
When you two are intimate next, whether it’s the first time or the fiftieth, the first thing he does is ask if you’ll wear his hat. Amused, you also slip on his coat while wearing nothing but that and his hat. He felt like someone zapped him with a dull shot from an energy weapon, but it was just the sight of you.
When you two finally attempt to actually just sleep, nothing more, he’ll drape his coat over the two of you. You sleep surprisingly well that night, even considering how spent you were. Do you struggle from nightmares? Not anymore.
“Would you wear my hat?” Preston asks, feeling a little vulnerable as he watched you consider his request. You fulfilled it happily, loving that it smelled like him, but you were also curious about the needy tone in his voice.
Preston’s mind was elsewhere, however. Specifically, he was back in that night after retaking the castle.
You two were drunk, his arm over your shoulders and yours around his waist, the two of you stumbling past the mirelurks you’d yet to remove towards the old barracks, where the rest of the minutemen agreed to set up for the night. Tomorrow would be a tough, and smelly day. Tonight, however, you all drank and sang songs and Preston and you’s praises.
You paused for a moment, and Preston didn’t quite register the loss of his hat on his head until he heard your drawn-out giggles, the kind you’d usually be embarrassed to let out. He looked over at you, and any alcohol in him left his system as you freely laughed under the moonlight.
You were outlined by it, like the halos on the angels in pre-war media, and Preston considered a higher power for a moment, because your existence could not be explained by a simple accident. Your skin glowed, and your eyes sparkled like the stars just past the edges of the moon in the sky, and Preston knew he was a goner.
He was brought back to the present by you pulling his coat off as well, and slipping it over your shoulders with a grin. He relished in the little noise you made when he surprised you with a kiss he didn’t know he was passionate enough to give.
How it would be to date Charon
Fluff
Warnings: Fallout-typical bad stuff
Charon isn’t exactly a pro when it comes to feelings, let alone understanding his own. It takes him a while to figure out exactly what he may want from someone else, so it’s almost definitely up to you to initiate things.
He probably won’t act any differently at first – Charon was raised and brainwashed to follow a contract and has spent his life doing various unpleasant things, sometimes stuff that is just downright evil. He hasn’t exactly had a chance to learn how to be romantic or affectionate with others, or even just open and friendly. However, with time he may open up and learn his love languages, his personal wants and boundaries, etc. and I feel like while he may not ever be into grand displays of affection, he could definitely be the kind of partner that turns into a koala bear in private, always having some kind of contact with you.
Once he does accept his romantic feelings for you, and agrees to be together in some official capacity, he’s attached to your hip and is terrified of losing you, which he expresses through looming over your shoulder no matter where you are or how capable you are of defending yourself. You’d probably have to discuss boundaries, unless you want a looming presence of a ghoul scaring off anyone you need to talk to. He’s trying his best, and is new to anything dating-related, and just wants to make sure nothing ever happens to you, so you’d need to reassure him you’re not going anywhere.
You also just should reassure him ever chance you get, tbh. He needs it.
You would definitely have scary dog privileges in public – it’s hard to ignore the massive ghoul with a near-constant displeased sneer just behind you, that never lets you out of his sight. You’ll find you get much better prices at vendors.
He’s insecure about progressing things, especially considering the comments you two get from drunks and not-so-drunk-but-still-assholes when someone notices he’s more than just a bodyguard or friendly companion to you. He won’t initiate anything physical past some gentle touches and snuggling through clothes in the evening unless he’s truly certain you want that, and he feels comfortable that you won’t be put-off by his physical appearance and the texture of his skin. He doesn’t want you to be disgusted by his exposed muscle, or wispy tufts of hair, or his lack of lips. Please tell him he’s handsome (and hot).
Your first kiss (that was initated by him, at least) would be on a lazy morning, somewhere you both feel safe. Maybe it’s in your home in Megaton, and you’ve got a severe case of bedhead and wake up to him staring at you in a way that would be terrifying if you didn’t know him well enough to see it’s just him observing you with affection. Gob definitely is the reason he got the nerve to actually kiss you, though. We all need a pep-talk from Gob tbh.
It was gentle, unlike him. His hands are constantly in your hair and brushing over your skin, the rough texture of his hands unexpectedly pleasant. He just loves how soft you are (and touching you in general).
He’s inexperienced in affection, so it may be a little awkward at first but he’s a devoted and eager student and will happily take into consideration any requests you have of him regarding how to kiss you (and other methods of expressing love physically)
The first time he tells you he loves you will be surprisingly romantic, even by pre-war standards. Considering he didn’t have the best role models, once he realized he wanted to be with you he would study old romance novels and dating advice magazines like textbooks and he would put that to use when you reach this milestone. Of course, he’s still awkward and as stone-faced as always, but when he hands you a bouquet of wild mutfruit blossoms and tells you dead-pan that he loves you over a brahmin steak (or some pasta with tato sauce if you don’t eat meat) dinner prepared by your mister handy in Megaton, you feel like you walked into a story.
Once you two are comfortable in your relationship, you would fall into a routine, or as much of a routine as you can in the post-nuclear fallout, of quiet I-love-you’s in the form of squeezing each-other’s hands three times, or something along those lines. In the mornings you’d wake up tangled together to a degree that should be anatomically impossible, and you’d eat breakfast together (he doesn’t care much for food, but he eats it since it makes you worry if he doesn’t) before taking down a wasteland slaver ring or something equally insane before going right back to domestic (inside an abandoned house somewhere along the road) bliss and trying to beat each-other’s high scores on Zeta Invaders.
If you two ever decide to settle down and go the more “traditional” route I feel he would like to live on a secluded but cozy farm somewhere outside the Capitol Wasteland. Somewhere with some natural (though mutated, of course) plant-life still living, ideally. He’s definitely the type to build you a house to your exact ideal measurements and act like he simply helped you build an Ikea shelf.
I feel like he’d get really into a niche hobby, like trying to cultivate a very specific crop, or something equally unexpected of him when you’d first met. Something he can do that lets his mind quiet down. He feels comfortable with you and knows you wouldn’t judge him.
To explain what I mean by “he’d get really into a niche hobby”, I mean like if he does go down the cultivation route, he’d buy agriculture books from traders whenever he got the chance and have a rather fancy greenhouse constructed that cost a somewhat exorbitant amount of caps until some day he presents to you a new fruit he invented. He does not acknowledge how insane and impressive this is, but you can tell he’s quietly proud of himself and happy for your praise.
If you continue the rest of your days on the go, never settling down and continuing to solve problems, he’d also be content, as long as he’s with you (and you’re not putting yourself into needless danger). He’ll clean and maintain your gun or weapon each evening, ensuring that nothing avoidable would ever go wrong for you. For your anniversaries, he’d collect a pretty arrangement of post-war flora since seeing your positive reaction the first time he did it made him feel like he was high.
He'd definitely buy you some weapon of mass destruction as a small romantic gesture, no matter which route you two take. (it's probably a fat boy modified to shoot three mini-nukes at once)
If you want to read this as if you’re the lone wanderer, know that if you were content and steady in your relationship by the time Project Purity happens, know that if he can’t keep you from entering the room (and believe me, he’ll try anything), he becomes like a feral cat hovering over you when you’re recovering afterwards. The Brotherhood of Steel is prejudiced against ghouls, but even the most fervent of bigots among them cannot keep him out of their base. He all but hisses at anyone that enters the room you’re recovering in, and refuses to listen to anyone that suggests you may not survive.
When you wake up, you’ll need to spend months reassuring him before he recovers from the debilitating fear around you having almost died. It will take him a while to learn boundaries again, and while he means well it can get overwhelming at times. He will get better, though, with enough love and support from those around him.
TLDR: Charon bad at feelings, but loves you much, uh oh. You nice to Charon, Charon learns how to let himself feel feelings, yay! You two happy now.
An aspiring Pip-Boy Technician turned wasteland saviour that is generally one minor inconvenience from losing it
Looks like: Irene Bohm in TBOSAS
S6 P8 E5 C4 I9 A6 L5
Tag Skills: Repair, Small Guns, Science
Features of Note: Her prosthetic leg, her undiagnosed autism, and her determination to get a pre-war car running again
Currently: Working as a mechanic somewhere near Bigtown. She's determined to help out even now that she's "retired", much to Butch's chagrin.
Fallout: New Vegas
Dagny "VI" Eden Hale
A courier from what remains of Appalachia with an off-putting vibe about her
Looks like: 1960s Nancy Sinatra
S4 P9 E4 C10 I8 A7 L10
Tag Skills: Speech, Medicine, Guns
Features of Note: Her insane bullet scar covering a quarter of her face, her Appalachian accent, and her past bullet-induced temporary amnesia (for the drama)
Currently: Terrorizing the NCR (with love), and putting their best sniper out of commission (also with love). Can be found getting kicked out of every casino for winning too much.
Fallout 4
Natasha Weyland
A pre-war lawyer on maternity leave turned general of the Minutemen, and ally of the Railroad
Looks like: Cristin Milioti as Sofia Falcone
S5 P7 E6 C9 I10 A7 L6
Tag Skills (if FO4 had them): Speech, Sneak, Lockpick
Features of Note: Her hooked nose that she's a little in love with, her ability to argue her way out of anything, and her uncommon but terrifying blind rage
Currently: Trying to smooch Hancock despite their equally comically large hats. Simultaneously planning and restructuring the settlement trade routes (don't have time to mourn your husband and son if you're busy working!!! YAY!!!!)
I will primarily be writing with the reader being afab, mostly because of personal preference.
I do accept NSFW requests, however I'm still pretty new to writing anything smutty so bear with me please (╥﹏╥)
I'm cool with pretty much anything, though I won't do anything involving noncon, animals, or unpleasant bodily fluids. Basically, if it's something you wouldn't do for $10k, I probably won't write it.
(feel free to ask if you're unsure what exactly I will and won't write)
As for characters I'll write for, I've made a post here on my personal faves. I am up for suggestions, though :)
Be nice to me or I will cry and you will have to watch my sad sad tears, how sad :(
I don't want constructive criticism. I write fics for fun, and want to keep it that way. (Of course if I write or say something you truly think is offensive or just uninformed, feel free to send me an ask or a message and we can chat about it :) )
If I say I'm currently not accepting requests but feel like sending something for when I am, feel free, but I probably won't write it as fast as you might hope, sorry
MDNI
I know y'all think you're all grown, but please dni if you're under 18. Trust me on this as someone who had unrestricted internet access as a kid. My brain is a place I would not wish on my worst enemy.
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