They/She | 25+ | Ace/Panrom | ENBY
It's been 12 years since my last urge to write this kinda shit. Cringe culture is dead, let me have some fun because being an adult is kinda the pits. But I am also an adult and some things do need to come before writing.
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https://ko-fi.com/pen_name_valentine
I saw this line a day or so ago while browsing the internet and it intrigues me so much. Not because I think that it's wrong, but because it's right. And your experience on the game really depends on what you're trying to get out of it.
This will be a long-winded rant I'm sure, so I'll put a cut below for the rambling. I will state here that I did some light research to see if I could find a general idea of gender-analytics but they're so widely varied that I can't get a definitive percent of female to male players on average.
Fallout 4 starts with a soldier experiencing war before the atomic fallout that proceeds literally every Fallout game in the series thus far. The male character, Nate, narrating over imagery of soldiers in power armor marching towards gunfire, missiles being wheeled through suburban neighborhoods. Nate is the main character, in the trailers, in the beginning movie, and even when the game begins.
Everything here is pushing that Nate here is the protagonist. He's telling us his story. That we need to assume a father hell-bent on revenge for our wife's death and son's kidnapping.
And Nora's there too.
But I think Nora is such a tragically more interesting character. A former lawyer, turned housewife, talking about her future returning to her practice. Losing her husband, a soldier, her rock, and tearing through the wastes to find her son.
Online discussions tend to hold it that way, too. Nate is always avenging Nora. Nora is always trying to find her son. This is a man's game. There is nothing more noble for a father than to avenge his wife, nothing more enduring than a mother's love for her child.
Now, this is gross oversimplification. At it's peak, Fallout 4 had almost 500k people on Steam alone playing at the same time. Not every 'Nate' or 'Nora' - read, player - will want the same damn thing.
But interacting with different fans on different sites and in-person are just so interesting. A lot of my male friends fall into the Brotherhood trap. They played New Vegas and 3, and saw that the Brotherhood is good! Brotherhood should be good! Why is Brotherhood bad?
Then you look at queer folks, women, people like me, who always veered from the Brotherhood. The one that quashed a lesbian romance in New Vegas. The one that has good intentions in 3, but was not the norm. Was one fighting to be replaced.
Men may see Nate in this war days and gravitate to the Brotherhood because of it's big guns and shiny power armor. The amount of "Ad Victorium, stupid toaster-lovers" I've seen on threads makes me wanna punch a wall sometimes, really. Seeing people fall into this mentality and using it to pick on people in real life over a video game.
Fallout 4 was targeted for men, but it's surface-level stuff. It's not polished or as in-depth as New Vegas story-wise. There's only 3 female companions, all romancable, all thin women with a pretty face. Conventionally attractive, really.
Now, I will say that this does do a lot of injustice. Cait is one of the best companion stories in-game bar-none and a great example of a story of overcoming addiction. Curie overcoming the bounds of robotics and gaining sentience and humanity, although giving the player an option to flirt with her multiple times unlike other companions you can romance. Piper, almost a mirror image of Nora, mischievous and honorable, trying to cut a path into this world.
Interesting, but designed in a way that would appeal to a male audience visually. And are all relatively easy to obtain in the story. Cait can be found fresh from the vault, Piper nearby at Diamond City. Curie is locked behind a quest, and her synth body locked behind another which needs you to have progressed past killing Kellog to get her to romance.
Male romances include John Hancock, locked behind a single mission and non-conventionally attractive; RJ Maccready, locked behind a cap wall and somewhat conventionally attractive (crooked teeth gets pointed out a LOT); Preston Garvey, locked behind one of the first missions, conventionally attractive, but also the biggest meme in Fallout 4; and Danse, who's romance cannot be unlocked until late in the game under specific guidelines or he'll become unobtainable/die, but he's conventionally attractive.
Like Nate with Piper, Danse is probably the closest to default Nate that Nora can romance. Except while you run into Piper, do a short quest involving answering a few questions before you're running around the wastes with her.
This game is made for men, but it's because it allows them to overlook anything below the surface. But there are things in Fallout 4 worth looking into and learning about and I'm tired of being quiet about it.
(Ancient) Prompt fill for the (ancient) Fallout Kink Meme â
The Prompt: Despite his charisma and laid back nature about his ghouliness, Hancock actually hasn't had too much physical contact with others since he went ghoul. Maybe he's reluctant to get close to someone, maybe he's too busy being mayor, etc. Then the SS comes along, and it isn't long before he's craving their touch and to be near them. He's itching for physical contact but he's worried that the SS might not want to get that close to him for various reasons. How Hancock proceeds and how the SS reacts is up to you! Of course, I'd want it to end with Hancock getting the affection he desires.
-
Hunger. That was the best way to describe it. Hancock felt it as he walked, as he moved, and as he breathed. It was particularly noticeable in the dead of night as he lay back in bed and gazed up at the ceiling. No amount of drugs did anything to mute the persistent yearning, confirming that the hunger would be a perpetual part of his life. The sleepless nights had become nearly painful, but it was a pain he was familiar with. It could not be ignored, but it could be dealt with. The listlessness he felt was chalked up to a mild to severe case of depression, just like the lethargy, and his empty headedness. There were days where he simply existed, and existing was good enough.
Or, at least, it had been.
When the Vault Dweller came to town merely existing was no longer an option. The day Nora rolled into Goodneighbor was the day that the persistent yearning hunger turned into something so much more apparent in his day-to-day life. The hunger felt tangible. There were days where he thought that if someone looked at him long enough they would be able to see a great yawning void within him. Hancock had planned to ignore the Vaultie until the knowledge of her existence was purged from his memory. It didnât work. When he wasnât seeing her, he was hearing about her; whether it was from the citizens of Goodneighbor, or on the radio. Then, somehow, the woman had wiggled her way into his life and keeping her at arms length became that much more difficult. She was around Goodneighbor often. When she was in town he wished that she would leave. Her being so close yet out of reach left him feeling needy and bereft. When she was gone he desperately wanted her to return. He worried about her damn near constantly. Her presence, or lack thereof, became another painful constant in his life.
One day, he woke up and decided to face it. He woke up and decided to face her. The nearness to the object of his desire had his body practically buzzing in anticipation. Her company alone pleased him just as much as it upset him. So close, yet still so far away.
âYou want to travel together?â Nora asked him, her head tilting to the side. âWhat about Goodneighbor?â
âIâve been too comfortable. Getting too used to this lifestyle. I need to get out and sharpen the old warrior instincts.â He met her eyes, saw her smile that perfect smile of hers. âI would like to tag along with you, if youâd have me.â
âYeah,â she said. âOkay.â
âYeah?â He felt more excited than he should have been.
âYeah.â Nora held out her hand. Hancockâs gaze focused on her palm, on her fingers. He wanted to touch her, wanted to hold her hand. He wanted to travel the map of lines on her palm with his fingertips.
He settled for the handshake.
Her palm was warm and soft, while her fingers carried a soothing chill. The handshake ended far too quickly, and Hancock barely managed to hold back a sound of disapproval that grated against the back of his throat. Had he let it, it could have easily been a whine or a desperate whimper. The hunger that he experienced wasnât sexual, it wasnât a carnal hunger. It was an overwhelming desire to be touched. And not to be picky, he wanted it to be by someone who cared or someone he cared for. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to close his eyes and sleep with her tucked so securely in his arms that he knew that she would still be beside him when he woke up. He wanted to hold her hand. He wanted to lace his fingers between hers and just⊠exist. Just existing with Nora would be a beautiful existence, to be sure. Far better than existing alone.
But the handshake was fine, he told himself. The handshake would have to do.
//
At some point in his life, Hancock let himself lose track of time. Half-past leaving Diamond City and turning into a ghoul he simply stopped paying attention. As far as he was concerned the time, the date, was always After. After leaving Diamond City. After ghoulism. Days, weeks, birthdays, and holidays were all blurred together in a haze of Jet and Mentats, Lethargy and sleepless nights. The next time Hancock had the opportunity to touch Nora again was exactly nine days after leaving Goodneighbor. He didnât recall keeping any sort of mental tally, but some part of him knew that it had been nine days, and he knew it without question. Nine days of walking the Commonwealth, doing nothing in particular but cleaning up riff-raff. Nine days of sleeping on the other side of the campfire, sharing meals and sharing stories. Nine days of being so damn close to her that he could smell her â but never touching. Not once.
They had been ambushed by raiders. After nine days of clearing out their strongholds, the raiders had clearly decided to hunt the duo down. Though they won the fight, they did receive a bit of a beating. Nora, whose armor had been in a state of disrepair during the ambush, had a pool cue broken across her back. Hancock took a bullet to his shoulder. Though painful, the injuries were incredibly minor when compared to what typically happened when unsuspecting persons were ambushed by raiders.
After the raiders were dispatched they found a safe place to hunker down so they could tend to their wounds. They hid out in the back of an old bus, sitting on the dirty floor as Nora unloaded all of her medical equipment from her rucksack. Hancock shrugged his coat from his shoulders and tugged at the plunging neck of John Hancockâs tunic to expose the bullet wound. The bullet didnât go too deep, but it was deep enough that he couldnât pry the lead out with his fingers. Another scar to add to his collection. Not that it mattered. Turning into a ghoul fucked up his body so badly he couldnât really differentiate between scars and what would be considered normal. Slender fingers slipped into view, and before he could brace himself for the contact, Nora was touching his arm. Barely-there pressure was applied to his skin, and he dragged in a ragged breath. He would let her think that it was a sound brought out by pain, but it was caused by her proximity, her willingness to help him.
âItâs not deep,â she said, breaking the contact. His eyes shot to hers. Nora was leaning in close â so close he could smell the floral perfume she had spritzed on her clothes however many days ago. He could see the dusting of freckles that danced across her nose. Though he felt the urge to kiss her, the desire to press his forehead against hers was so much stronger. He wanted to press his forehead to hers, card his fingers into her hair, and close his eyes and just breathe.
Nora held up a set of forceps and asked, âDo you want me toâŠ?â
âGo âhead.â
The woman reached out and touched him again, though this time it was firm and so much more real than the ghost of a touch she had used earlier. Hancock nearly vocalized his appreciation, but remained silent. The forceps dipped inside of his skin, touching torn and bleeding muscle. Metal audible clinked against the chunk of lead and a sobering amount of pain shot through the length of his arm. The bullet was extracted with no trouble. She plopped the bloodied slug into her palm, holding it out to him.
âWay to go,â she said teasingly. âWish I had a lollipop to give you.â
âThanks, Doc,â Hancock jested.
When Nora offered to stitch up the wound Hancock turned her down. Despite the effervescent need he had for her to touch him in any capacity, she needed to save her supplies. There was no sense in her wasting them on him.
âNah, Doll,â he said. âIâll find me a puddle of radiation and I will be right as rain. Letâs take a look at you, huh?â
Nora sighed, and she turned her back to him. She removed her measly chest armor and then hoisted the back of her thread-bare shirt up and over her head. The hem of the shirt was hooked around her neck so her front remained perfectly covered with her modesty intact. Hancock was gifted with a nearly unobscured view of her back. It was beautifully smooth skin that would have otherwise been completely unmarred if it wasnât for the colorful damage the pool cue had left behind. The bruising was raised and swollen, red and splotchy with a laceration that traveled beneath the bloodied strap of her once white brassiere.
âIâm going to unhook your bra,â he warned her.
âWhat, a girl canât get a drink first?â
Hancock chuckled at the half-hearted joke, but he felt so damn breathless. He would finally get to touch her. He would get to tend to her injuries and help her heal. Nora was entrusting the task to him, and heâd be damned if he was going to mess it up. A smoothskin like her would need stitches for the mess that had been left behind. Hancockâs radiation mangled fingers brushed the outer edge of the angry bruise. Nora exhaled through clenched teeth. Nora was pained while Hancock tilted his head back, closing his eyes. He so desperately wanted to glue his body to hers. He wanted to hike up his shirt and pull her back against him so he could have the skin-to-skin contact that he had been hungering for.
With his body trembling, he went about cleaning the cut. Though it was only a couple inches in length, the location of the laceration would be uncomfortable; it stretched across the skin where the clasps of her bra rested. Hancock taped some gauze down, but even then, the material would probably chafe against the sutures. He watched as her back arched, as she found her bra straps and went to reconnect them. She released a loud hiss.
Hancock said nothing as she placed her supplies back in her pack. Her chest armor was pulled back into place and secured. The hunger left his body burning. He had been so close to her. Nora had touched him, and she had trusted him to touch her and he realized that was becoming a substantial piece of what he wanted. A mutual trust, a friendship created from the ground up. No ulterior motives, no exchange of chems or caps. The way he craved it was just sad.
The duo left the bus, and they continued to wander. They seemed to be meandering idly, and that was completely fine. There was companionable chatter as they walked. There was no awkwardness, no pregnant silences. Maybe this was what he needed, too. He needed companionship. That wasnât to say that Fahrenheit had been a bad friend or bodyguard, but the woman could be painfully quiet. Nora talked, she sang with the radio. She was a tangible presence in his life, one that couldnât be overlooked or ignored, or forgotten.
âYouâve never heard of Tarzan?â
âIs he Grognakâs cousin?â
âOh, you poor man. How about Beauty and the Beast? That one is a classic.â
â⊠Is that first one about that chick that tried to fuck a deathclaw?â
âWhoa. Whoa! Youâre kidding! You have to be kidding!â
When Noraâs Geiger counter began to click angrily, she stopped and looked over her shoulder at him, flashing a pleased smile. The puddle of radiation that she had found was a literal puddle of water in a flooded out neighborhood. Old barrels of waste were overturned, creating the perfect place for someone like him to heal up. Hancock dressed down, then knelt beside the water, cupping handfuls of liquid and palming it over the open wound in his shoulder. Nora retreated far enough that her Geiger counter wasnât going haywire, waiting patiently.
âOh, sister, I wish I was kidding.â
Hancock regaled a stunned Nora with his story, and she laughed and made appropriate grossed out noises. At one point, he found himself just watching her, no longer treating his gunshot wound. She was in the throes of laughter, her hand cupping over her mouth to stifle herself, eyes screwed shut. The woman was too damn beautiful, too genuine, too kindâŠ
He stood, and returned to her side, shrugging his coat back onto his shoulders. As he neared, she dropped her hand. She was grinning ear-to-ear. She met his eyes and said, âIâm glad you came along, Hancock. It gets lonely out here. Your company makes all of this a whole lot easier.â
Her words touched his heart. There had to be others who were willing to travel with her, better ones, and she had picked him. He offered a lazy smile, pulling his cigarettes from his coatâs breast pocket. âWell, what can I say? I aim to please.â
âI mean it!â
âSo do I.â
//
The next time they touched was five weeks later. Five weeks of sleepless nights, of watching her from the other side of the fire as she sang along with the radio. He was feeling irritable, and he was doing his damnedest to keep himself in check. There were times where he found himself reaching out to her as her back was turned, reaching out to pull her back towards him. He didnât like it when she turned her back to him, didnât like it when she wandered off alone â and he had damn near gone completely feral when she left him in Sanctuary for all of an hour one sunny afternoon.
It was another fire fight that had brought them together. It was another interaction created by circumstance, and not by a sudden yearning to reach out and take his hand. They were battling Super Mutants. Though the duo got the drop on them, when push came to shove, those assholes had suicidal crazies on their side and there wasnât much that could be done about that. A rhythmic beeping had just caught his attention when, not a second later, Nora grabbed his hand in an iron grip and started running.
The contact was unsolicited and surprising. He didnât expect her to grab his hand, to practically drag him behind her as she ran for cover. He was touched that she thought of him, that his safety mattered to her. His hand clasped hers just as tightly and he never wanted to let go. The brief windsprint ended with both of them diving behind an old vehicle. They tumbled against one another. Hancock ended up on his back, with Nora stretched across his body. No, he wouldn't let her take the brunt of whatever was coming. Hancock rolled, tucking her beneath him, an arm curling around the top of her head while the other wrapped around his own.
There was an explosion of sound, and then an eruption of force that shook the vehicle that they had hidden behind. His ears were ringing. There was a rush of heat as debris rained down around them, clanking into the car, slapping into the ground, peppering against his back. The Suicider exploded frighteningly close, but they were fine. They made it out unscathed. It was only after the chaos that Hancock noticed that Noraâs arms were wrapped around him. She was holding him close, gripping the back of his coat. The realization made him shudder. Hancock pressed his face into her neck. She smelled like sweat and something floral â He wondered if she had that perfume bottle hidden in her pack somewhere. Hancock inhaled deeply, and allowed himself to enjoy Noraâs embrace. He could stay there, in that moment, forever.
âHancock?â
His body shook, his eyes squeezed closed. No. No, he needed this. Please, just a minute longer. God, please. Hancock grit his teeth, and he slowly sat up. It hurt him. It hurt him so badly. The hunger was suddenly so much worse. He had gotten a taste of what he had wanted, and then it was ripped from him. He felt needy, and weak, and his heart felt heavy â so fucking heavy. There was a tightness in the back of his throat he forced himself to swallow it down. No, he was more than used to the hunger by now. He wouldnât let it ruin him.
Hancock sat and pretended to survey the damage around them, âShit. That was real fuckinâ close.â
Nora sat up slowly. âYouâre not hurt?â
âNot a scratch, doll,â he started patting his pockets in search of his cigarettes. He craved something stronger; something that would fog his mind and maybe distract that persistent need he felt in his chest. There wasn't a drug strong enough to stifle the hunger. It was always there. A cigarette was pulled from the pack in his breast pocket, followed by the lighter. He didnât light it up immediately, he let his hands have something to touch and hold for all of a few seconds. He ran the pad of his thumb over the lighterâs chrome casing, rubbed the cigarette between his fingers.
âAre you sure?â
He stalled for a moment, finally lighting the cigarette. He filled his lungs to capacity. âYeah. Just a little bit of a rush is all. That may have been better than the chems.â He pushed the smoke through his nose, letting it obscure his view as it surrounded him like a cloak he could hide in.
That night, as they sat together by the fire, there was a tense silence between them. The sleeping bags had already been rolled out on opposite sides of the fire, just like every other night. They already ate dinner and they talked, and conversed, just like every other night. But the silence that followed it all was tense, and uncomfortable. Hancock had the added bonus of absolutely dreading the idea of crawling into his sleeping bag and trying to sleep. He wanted her to talk to him about her life, about her favorite colors â she could have screamed at him and it would have been a far cry better than the silence. He hated himself when he realized that she could have punched him square in the face and he would have welcomed the contact, and he would ask her to punch him again. Anything from her, the good or the bad would have been entirely welcome. So long as it came from her. Only her.
âSoâŠâ His eyes snapped towards her, eager to hear her speak. âAre we going to talk about today?â
âWhaddaya on about?â
He started to search for his cigarettes. The coat had too many fucking pockets.
âToday? The Super Mutants?â
âThat was nothinâ,â he said a bit gruffly. âIt was a little bit of a rush, had a flashback sort of. Just a combination of bad memories and adrenaline.â
âHancock,â she said his name so softly he nearly shivered. âPlease donât lie to me. Let me help.â
The ghoul grit his teeth, finally snatching the cigarettes from his right-hand pocket. He lit up, and took a deep drag.
âDonât lie to you? Let you help? What about you, sister? What the fuck are we doing out here? You said you were looking for someone, and you never said who. And we havenât been looking for anyone!â Another drag. The smoke filled his lungs, it seeped from the cavity that had been his nose, it leaked from his mouth as he continued his tirade. âWeâve been wandering, doing absolutely fucking nothing. How about you let me help!â
He was sorry. He was already so sorry. He wanted to take it all back, but something in him had finally snapped. He needed to run her off, and then throw himself headfirst into the chems, and alcohol. He wanted her erased from his memory, completely obliterated. But he also desperately wanted her acceptance. This was a mess - he was a God damn fucking mess.
âDonât change the subject,â she said, her voice still soft and gentle. âIf you will tell me whatâs wrong, then we canââ
âWe can what, Nora? There isnât anything - !â He shot to his feet. Another drag, and the cigarette was done. He tossed the butt into the fire, while he was already reaching to start up another. âHow about you tell me whatâs wrong, huh?â
Nora stood as well, so he was no longer standing over her and yelling. She said nothing, but let him yell at her. He hated himself, what was he doing? He was killing what happiness he had, he was destroying it. No. Please, stop. Please just fucking stop.
âYou canât even help yourself. Youâre out here stalling. What are you afraid of, huh? This has been a complete waste of time!â
Time. Like he cared about time. Everything was After. After Nora. He didnât want to know what it would be like After Nora. But it was coming, speeding at him like a bullet. Nora suddenly raised her hand, and he anticipated a slap to the face â he wanted to be slapped in the face. Anything. Give me anything before this is all over. Give me something to hang onto for when After Nora begins.
The hand that palmed his cheek was soft, the contact gentle. Her thumb stroked his ruined cheek, her fingers sliding up the hard slope of his mottled jaw. He didnât manage to restrain the weak moan that tore through his throat. His legs buckled, unable to hold his weight. Nora followed him, her free hand reaching to give the other side of his face the same attention. She sat on her knees across from him, holding his face in her hands.
Finally.
âOh, HancockâŠâ Her voice was a whisper that soothed his frantic mind. His hands fell on top of hers, keeping her palms flush to his face. His throat felt tight and constricted. When he opened his eyes his vision was blurry. Her figure wavered and danced in the flickering fire light, he could barely see her face. When her hands suddenly slipped out from under his, he felt his heart â his entire being â shatter into a million pieces. Of course she would leave. After what he said to her, after how he had been acting, she had every right to leave him. His hands slipped over his cheeks and covered his eyes and he sank. He sank further into himself, slouching and shrinking until he was doubled over, his forehead nearly touching the ground. If this was what was left of his life, then he didnât want to exist. Not if it hurt so much. Existing without her wasn't an existence at all. The hunger roiled. The void in him grew impossibly wide. It made his stomach twist and his eyes burn.
ââm sorry,â the voice came out as a feeble whisper. He didnât want After Nora. ââm so sorry.â
âHancock, heyâŠâ His body jerked, his head lifted. His heart throbbed in his chest so quickly that his breathing came in hard, uneven gasps. She was crouched beside him, her hand extended to him. âHey, come on. Letâs get you in bed.â
He didnât want to go to bed, it was too far away, he wouldnât sleep. He couldnât sleep. He took her hand anyway, relishing the contact. When Nora shifted to the side there was a spark of hope that warmed his entire body. He looked towards her, then back at the sleeping bags. While he was busy falling apart, Nora had taken the two sleeping bags and zipped them together. The end result was an arrangement that was more than capable of fitting two people. Both of their pillows were there at the head of the sleeping bag. A numbness consumed him, muting the hunger as she went about helping him out of his coat, as she removed the tricorn hat. She even pulled off his boots, the old socks he wore, the sash around his waist. With all of the patience in the world, she helped him into the joined sleeping bags.
Hancock followed her every move. Nora crawled over his body to the other side of the sleeping bag and tugged at her own boots, her socks. She removed her pieces of armor, and then she slipped in beside him. There was a brief moment where Hancock was afraid to move. He didnât want to scare her off. When he didnât move, she did. Nora scooted in close to him, her hand finding his under the covers.
âNora, can⊠can weâŠ?â
âWhatever you need.â
Hancock turned to his side, facing her. He rasped, âCan I hold you?â
The smile she gave him was small, but sweet. Nora rolled to her side, facing away from him, and then he tugged her flush to his body. Hancock encompassed her body, touching every bit of her that he could. His feet hooked beneath hers, legs and thighs touching, his hips against hers, his stomach and chest at her back, and her head tucked beneath his chin. Nora tugged at his arm, pulling the limb up against her chest. His forearm was between her breasts, his palm cupping her neck. He could feel her pulse. It was rhythmic, steady, and real. Her arm curled around his, her hand at his wrist.
As his body went boneless and relaxed, fragments of lucid thoughts managed to fight to the surface. Outside of his embarrassing state of need he was finally able to think. She had been so gentle with him, even after he yelled at her. He had done nothing to deserve her kindness, but he would willingly accept every bit of it. Hancock pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, letting his eyes close.
âThank you, Nora.â His voice was still too weak, all ragged and airy.
Her thumb brushed against the inside of his wrist, and she said something that he didnât quite catch because he was already drifting off to sleep.
For the first time in a long time, Hancock woke up and felt completely refreshed. There had been no point in the middle of the night where he woke up in a fit of restlessness. He didnât wake up to gaze at her through the dwindling embers of their camp fire. When he woke up, Nora was still secure in his arms. At some point in the middle of the night she had rolled over to face him. Their legs were tangled together, one of his feet pressed up against a naked expanse of leg. The plunging neck of John Hancockâs shirt allowed Noraâs forehead to press into the skin of his chest, her hands curled beneath her chin.
Hancock watched her for a few moments, memorizing the details of her face. He followed the trail of freckles at her nose, the small beauty mark under her eye. His fingers tangled into the ends of her hair and he closed his eyes. He could feel her pulse, could feel her breath. The hunger was silent, the yearning need was blissfully absent and it was all because of the woman he had wrapped so securely in his arms. He wanted to kiss her eyelids, her cheeks, he wanted to kiss her until she woke up. He didnât want to get out of the sleeping bag, he wanted to stay there for the rest of his life just holding her.
âNora,â he whispered, dipping his head to whisper into her ear. âNora?â
Her eyes fluttered slowly. Her body stretched and arched, and then she snuggled in closer, sighing quietly.
âMm?â
âI would like to tell you something,â he said, his voice still soft. He suddenly felt quite foolish. He could have waited until she actually woke up, but then again he couldnât. The need to apologize was much too strong for him to sit idly and wait. The moment would pass, or heâd get cowardly and opt to remain silent. This needed to be said at that very moment.
âMmhmm?â
He swallowed hard, âDid you sleep alright?â Already backing out. Coward.
She hummed a sleepy response, âI forgot how nice it was to be held.â Her words were slurred with sleep, but touched him all the same. He pulled her closer, if that was at all possible, and gathered his courage.
âI wanted to say thank you for last night. You could have left me here, and you didnât. I will never be able to thank you enough. What youâve done for me⊠I wonât forget it. Not ever.â He dragged his fingers through her hair, staring off into nothing as he spoke. âAnd⊠I didnât mean what I said. If youâre not ready to tell me who youâre looking for then thatâs fine. I will be here when you are. And it hasnât been a waste of time, none of it has.â
âIt has been, though.â
He looked down. She finally had her eyes open, and she was staring at his chest.
âThis entire time, I have been doing nothing but wasting time. Iâm sorry, but Iâm⊠Iâm just so scared.â
The woman who had exuded so much strength and patience the night before was curled into him, looking weak and fragile. He knew that she wasnât quite ready to tell him who she was looking for, and that was fine. He would show her the same patience that she had shown him. He would wait until she was ready, and then he would do whatever he could to help her.
âWhatever you need, Nora,â he said. âWhatever you need from me, and I will give it to you â whenever you need it.â
She finally met his eyes, and she smiled weakly. âThank you.â
The two remained snuggled close to one another for a few hours. Hancock drifted in and out of sleep, and every time he woke up Nora was there. If she wasnât curled against his body, she was dragging her toes up along his leg as she played with her Pip-Boy. When they broke camp and actually began their day Hancock stayed close to her side, occasionally snatching her hand in his. She never shied away, always giving his fingers a welcoming squeeze. Despite what she said â despite what he said â their time together hadnât been a waste. Not at all.
//
Time had returned to Hancockâs life. There would always be the After; After Diamond City, and After Ghoulism. There was also After Nora, but it no longer signified an ending. After Nora, he started feeling hole again. He no longer just existed, he really lived. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and he could breathe easier. The hunger still existed, but it had mutated into something else entirely. He hungered for her laughter, and her happiness. He yearned to ensure her safety, and he wanted to provide for her. And he did, he did his absolute best to provide for her, he strived to make her happy.
Eventually, right around the three-month mark, Nora told him who they were looking for. She showed him the wedding rings that she had threaded together with an old golden bracelet sheâd found. Hancock had been understanding â of course a woman like her would have been married, of course she would have had a baby. Nora would have made a wonderful mother, all patience and understanding and gentleness. She would have been the absolute best. He promised her that he would be with her until the end. They would find her kid, and they would most definitely find the man who had caused his Nora so much pain. She deserved happiness, she deserved all of the happiness in the world.
Month five brought the first of many, many, kisses. It had been a rare night where the stars peaked through the haze of radiation laden clouds. Nora had been downright exuberant as she stretched out on their sleeping bag and pointed out constellations. Half of the time, he didnât quite see the formations she was identifying but that didnât stop him from enjoying the warmth that radiated off of her. Throughout the duration of their star gazing she had her head rested against his chest, content and comfortable. His hand was in her hair, idly tugging at little tangles until he could card his hand through it without trouble. When she was finished she rolled to face him, all smiles and without warning she kissed him.
It was timid and it was hopeful, and the very second she tried to pull away Hancock had his hand on the back of her head, pulling her back towards him. He had waited until she was ready. He had waited so patiently. It would have been a great life just being her friend, but heâd be lying if he said he didnât want more. Hancock took great care to never initiate anything beyond playful flirting, deciding that if they were to be something more it would be on her terms. But Nora kissed him like he would shatter, and he was having none of that. By the end of the night she was so thoroughly kissed she was in a daze, a lopsided smile on her kiss-bruised lips. He hungered for more, but he would wait. He would wait for her forever.
Hancockâs forever came in their sixth month together. It was the first bed that they had been in for a rather long time â at least one that was surrounded by four actual walls. They were back in Goodneighbor. He had wined and dined Nora at the Third Rail where Magnoliaâs crooning voice coaxed them into a slow, lazy dance. After, they went to his room in the State House. It started with snuggling and quiet words, followed by some wrestling. He would pull her flush to his body and he would tickle her mercilessly as she shrieked and wiggled and laughed. She would push and bite at him in a futile effort to stop him.
Their playful wrestling match ended with Nora on top of him, straddling him and completely flushed and breathless. Hancockâs hands slid up her thighs, gripped her waist. She leaned down and kissed him, shifting against him so slowly it was near painful. The playfulness became super-heated and needy. Hancock was on top, kissing Nora senseless when he sank into her. She rose to meet him, holding him close with her legs around his hips. She whined his name as she came undone. Hancock could have died happy. If God struck him down in that very moment, that would have been just fine. Nora was gorgeous, and absolutely breathtaking - and she was all his.
It was month nine when he told her that he loved her. She had been particularly withdrawn after the events at the Memory Den. They were shacked up in one of their favorite haunts. Nora had been a bit short tempered, and Hancock had been irritable. They had been bickering, fighting over something small and meaningless when out of nowhere they were yelling, screaming. They were at each otherâs throat, not listening to one another, just desperately trying to be the loudest.
âWell if youâre so sick of it you can leave!â She suddenly shrieked. She shoved her palms into his chest, pushing him towards the door. âGet out of here!â
âNoraââ
âI said leave! Go!â
A roiling growl left him as he turned and stalked out the door. Though he knew better than slamming doors at any of their abodes, Hancock slammed the door for all he was worth. He got a whole yard away from the house before he stopped. A little yelling wasnât going to end them. Their argument meant absolutely nothing, he was frustrated but he wasnât going anywhere. He turned back, and simply stood beside the house, right next to the front door. Leaning against the metal wall, he lit up a cigarette. Hancock understood that Nora was dealing with a hunger that was unfamiliar to him, and she would deal with it in her own way. There was a lot on her plate, and even more on her mind, but she had been particularly quick to anger over the past week and something in him just snapped. Damn woman â she was why he would go feral. He had just taken a hard puff of the cigarette when the door shot open â it swung open hard enough that it bounced off his boot.
âHancock! John!â Nora was yelling, running into the darkness. âJohn!â Her voice was cracking and desperate. She slowed, and he could see her shoulders shaking with the aid of the Pip-boy that was lit up on her arm. âIâm so sorry⊠â It was a broken sound, soft and fragile.
Hancock threw the cigarette to the ground. He made his approach, nearly jogging to her side. âNoraâŠâ
âJohn, John I am so sorry. I didnât mean it, IâŠâ she was in his arms, gripping his coat in a flash. Her small body shook as she fought to keep her tears at bay, but it was no use. âI didnât mean it. Please donât go.â
John chuckled, slipping his arms tightly around her. Aside from the night that they first slept together, this had been their first real fight. A screaming match in the wee hours in the morning. A screaming match about nothing. Literally nothing. He kissed the top of her head.
âWh-why are you laughing!?â She managed to sound fierce despite her tears, and he laughed a little harder. âStop laughing.â
âI love you, you crazy woman,â he tilted her head back so he could kiss her. She tried to push him away, those full lips turned into a hard frown.
âYou⊠Youâre telling me that you love me now? Right now? After Iââ
Another kiss, âYeah,â and another. âI guess I am.â
âButââ
He held her tear streaked face in his hands, and kissed her again, nibbling at her lip.
âBut, I justââ
âNora, do you love me or not?â
âOf course I love you. But dammit-â
Hancock scooped Nora up into his arms. She let out a squeak of surprise as he turned and walked her back towards the house. He was careful going through the doorway, and then the hall. After he placed her on their bed, her head resting among the mess of overstuffed pillows, he kissed her again.
âSo,â he drawled. âLetâs try this again.â A brief pause. âNora, I love you.â
The softness that he was so used to seeing returned to Noraâs eyes. Her arms slipped around his neck and she finally smiled. This was After Nora. This was happiness. This was living life. It was the ups and the downs and the beautiful in between. It was ridiculous arguments in the middle of the night, and it was making love immediately after.
Can't come up with headcanons all the time but I think we gotta talk about how a lot of LGBTQ+ people like Hancock because what is it about him that does that?
Rewatching the Fallout TV series at work and I noticed something.
In episode 3, while Cooper is filming the scene from The Man From Deadhorse (ie, the first "Feo fuerte y fomal scene) his voice is exactly the same as it is for him running around the wastes as The Ghoul. The grittiness, the heavier western accent, everything.
And when he pauses and then switches to asking the director if he has to kill this guy in the film, it's all dropped.
I haven't seen too many posts about how Coop/The Ghoul has allowed himself to be changed by what he became after the bombs fell. Perhaps it will be explored more in Season 2 about his ghoulification. He changed into something "ugly" on the outside, and has allowed himself to become ugly on the inside. But it also feels like he's just playing a character, maybe defensively, to deal with this new world and everything he's lost.
Mk kinda pissed with some mod creators at this point.
What the actual fuck? If you think they are so "ugly" that you want to make a mod so they are human and not "ugly" by your standards then just go fuck the damn default humans.
Changing the character is one thing but calling them "ugly" is something else entirely that makes me just want to poke people's eyes out so they cant even tell if the character is "ugly" or not.
John Hancock, the character who at higher affinity reveals he made himself into a ghoul because he was tired of looking at the man staring back into the mirror, should be human?
John Hancock, the guy who undoubtedly gets more action to whoever made this mod canonically (late night tours, anybody) is ugly?
Hancock being a ghoul is such an integral part of his story. Hancock never ONCE judged any ghoul for being ghouls, and fought to save as many as he could from his brother. And you go ahead and slap "generic white man" mod on him and think it won't affect anything?
Mod creator is weak, and will not survive nuclear winter.
sorry but "ghouls emit radiation/ghouls can give you radiation poisoning" sounds like some brahminshit propaganda made up by the brotherhood or some shit. i doubt ghouls give off any more detectable radiation than a uranium glass teacup. maybe their bodily fluids would be slightly risky to ingest by some people's standards but over all i dont think you're gonna contract some contagious ghoul disease that either turns you or kills you just from touching a ghoul for too long. glowing ones on the other hand, could probably actually give you radiation poisoning.
edit: noticed typo. fixed typo. i will never recover.
There was no one more upset about Nick Valentine not being a romance option than I.
I picked up the game, found out he wasn't romancable after the Kellog quest and played without romancing anybody, going so far as to avoid most companions altogether before putting the game down incomplete until the Fallout TV show came out this year.
Yes, I know there is a mod and yes I've done a run with the mod downloaded but that does not negate the fact that the only Fallout romances with robots that look robotic are played as jokes and I am still STEAMED that one of the most compatible companions with the Sole Survivor isn't a base game romance.
Nick thinks the only thing that's his is killing Eddie Winters, bitch you got me but Bethesda said I can't.
About my farm North of New Vegas which is comprised of a hitman, a Russian tech whiz, two weird robots, a part-time cannibal, a cinnamon bun dating said part-time cannibal, and someone freed from working in Gomorrah.
About the nerdy ghoul who is a fan of old Hollywood movies becoming muscle for a Vault Dweller who is related to one of his favorite actresses.
About the former gunner who adopted a traumatized, non-verbal kid who is a bit unsettling, and maybe thought of stealing his food and running off but liked sleeping in a bed and just accepts his fate.
About the caravan ghoul I've been trying to weave into every mainline Fallout game who I love and adore so much. Working on giving him a pathetic husband/guard.
Honestly, if you ask about any of them you will be given so much useless information. I love my OCs and will 100% write about them one day.
Has anyone else noticed there's been a huge decline in fancfictions that have multiple parts with a storyline and/or don't contain smut/nsfw.
And I don't mean slow burns (Hell I haven't seen one in a year). So many fics these days are one-shot nsfw, multiple parts maybe with storyline but each chapter is smut.
Stories without the smut, or ones that are an actual multi-chapter slow burn, comfort, hurt-comfort, and such just don't seem to exist or when someone makes them it gets zero praise.
It's hard getting motivation because I'll make a post for a popular character/fandom but it'll get maybe 5 likes.
The lack of in depth story fanfics has made it hard to enjoy reading and writing fancfictions these days. I used to stay up all night reading 5-10 chapter long stories of a nsfw free slow burn, or intricate self-insert story.
Don't get me started on self inserts bro, they get so much hate. Gor forbid someone writes a story about their oc, especially if their character is shipped with a cannon character. I get you want a reader x character, but an oc x character are often so much fun simply because some people about COOK on their characters.
It seems the appreciation for fanfics has drifted from actual stories, to a crave to read porn.
If you're actively befriending/romancing him you are canonically making him better. You may be using jet and mentats now but he is becoming a more patient and considerate person in exchange.
Literally forever living in this brainrot period for the ghoul.
There's no other explanation as to why his interactions with NPCs in Goodneighbor and Minuteman Settlements changes with affinity? Why is it when you're just starting out, he gives drifters a week to pay him back his caps, but after maxing it out, he laughs it off and tells them there's no worries on the caps anymore?
Why he initially tells the player that he took the radiation drug because "you have one life, why not try it all" before turning that around through affinity conversations to let the player know he did it because he was sick of the person he was staring at in the mirror due to continued cowardice in the face of injustice?
He's been running from himself for so long that he doesn't realize until the Sole Survivor takes him along that he's been continuing to do so. He's been projecting himself as John Hancock so long that he doesn't realize that he's forgotten who John McDonough was. Crime runs free in Goodneighbor despite him being glad that someone takes out the shittier group of them (ie Silver Shroud questline: he loves you killing the dude who sells drugs to kids). He's accidentally allowing those who need a safe spot to rest their heads be put in danger with the same thinking.
While I must say it's an incredible crime that he didn't get a quest, we're still given so much through idle interactions and context clues and GOD I love John Hancock.
If you're actively befriending/romancing him you are canonically making him better. You may be using jet and mentats now but he is becoming a more patient and considerate person in exchange.
Okie can someone explain nick and Hancock's relationship to me? I've been switching up the order of how I do quests to potentially get them to interact, but there hasn't been much. I know Hancock has a terminal entry on him. But I just need to know whats going on here bc I can't find anything...
I've also yet to have brought nick to max affinity. But im planning to switch out for him soon to attempt that. Idk if having him as a companion changes things/adds more context..
If you bring Nick Valentine into Goodneighbor upon your first visit, Hancock will mention to Finn that he's bothering a friend of Nick's who's making "a rare appearance" in Goodneighbor. I think this and the terminal entry suggests that Nick has done some good in the neighborhood at the very least, and if you know Hancock, it's easy to imagine that he's pretty pleased to have someone helping out those less fortunate.
The one that I focus on, though, is when you switch companions. Now, if you switch out Hancock for Valentine, you'll sense some hostility (and if you're me, you'll be banging on the table because protective ghoul is hot, detective quipping back is hot). But when you switch out Valentine for Hancock, you get something along the lines of:
Valentine: You two stay out of trouble.
Hancock: You know I don't make promises I can't keep.
This at least suggests that Valentine knows that Hancock is a bit of a tear-it-up kinda guy. And that he's experienced Hancock getting into trouble on multiple occasions.
I'd like to think they're cordial. Valentine probably does cases every now and again in Goodneighbor since shit goes sideways more often than not. Hancock appreciates him for helping out the town.
Summary: You're sick to death of listening to people insult and belittle Nick; you take matters into your own hands, much to the Synth's surprise, but your methods are a little bit unorthodox.
Warnings: None, except for blood, violence, and foul language. NICK GETS SUPER PISSED AT YOU, and you also share a kiss. đ
IT'S FLUFF.
Notes: This is SELF-INDULGENT AF. I hate it when people insult Nick in the game. This is my way of getting them back! And I want to kiss him and tell him I love him so bad. ;-:
Word count: 2k
It was the final straw, the one that broke the brahminâs back, Nick Valentine left to defend himself against hate and bigotry for the umpteenth time, and you would not be party to it.
For so long you had traveled by Nickâs side, learning of the many facets to his personality. If there was a single thing about him you did not like, it had to be the ease with which he practiced self-deprecation, not knowing how to remedy the awful perception he had about himself.
Oftentimes, he regurgitated what came out the mouths of others; it had been internalized, compartmentalized, processed, and stored in his long-term memory, the detective unable to let things goâjust like so many cases that remained unsolved.
âShit, a Synthâ donât come near me. What a freak, thinks heâs humanâŠâ
âDonât worry, I wouldnât go near you if it meant tomorrow Iâd wake up from this nightmare.â
Your soul ached, knowing that every insult, every snide remark caused some level of psychic damage to your partner, his expressions all too readable for those times he was robbed of his fragile dignity, though always walking away the bigger man.
A culmination of varying factors led you to this, Nickâs tragic past haunting not only himself, but you; what you wouldnât give to make it better, only wishing you had the power to convince him he was worth more than half the Commonwealth combined.
If Valentine could equate himself to nothing more than garbage, you could be the one to remind him that someone elseâs trash was frequently anotherâs treasureâ in this case, he was yours.
Though not privy to your feelings, you adored Nick completely. So much so, you were not above engaging in a physical altercation on his behalf.
âSay that again,â you threatened scathingly, turning to face the asshole who had just dared to disrespect your companion, and for no good reason.
âI said heâs a freak, ladyâand whatâs a pretty thing like you doing traveling with him, anyway?â the ill-mannered caravan guard asked, acting as if Valentine was some disease he could catch, making a blatant show of his disgust.Â
The hired gun pulled no reaction from the Synth, though Nick stared at you tight-lipped, unnatural, glowing eyes trained hard on your face. His silence spoke volumes, instructing you with a stern look beneath the shade of his hat to drop the matter and turn the other cheekâit was something you werenât willing to do this time, meeting your newfound enemy head-on.
âApologize!â you demanded, shoving your adversary backward with a forceful push, both your palms making contact with his ribs. Your cheeks burned, accompanying a rise in your temper, readying yourself for if this vermin should do anything but grovel at Nickâs feet.
âForget it, this guy ainât worth it,â Nick offered laconically, hoping to appeal to your common sense. âIâve heard worse in my time; being called a freak is the least of my concerns.â
âBut youâre worth it!â you protested, Valentineâs forehead arcing upward at the conviction in your voice. He had a momentary lapse, his concentration faltering as he tried to get a handle on the situation, Nick having visualized an entirely different outcome based on variables that were currently in fluxânamely the sudden change in your mood.
It seemed the shithead had caught on, smarter than he looked, eyeing the two of you with suspicion and derision, as if the very idea you could have feelings toward this hunk of junk was baffling when able-bodied, strong men like him existed.  Â
âOh, I get it. Youâre real sick, lady, a real pervertâyou fucking a machine? Whatâs the matter, human men arenât good enââ
The jerk was cut off mid-sentence, your balled up fist coming into contact with his jaw; a resounding crack split sound waves as blood spurted from his lips. His colleagues had already wandered off down the road, not wanting to be a part of whatever trouble he had found himself in, having silently agreed to let this member of their team fend for himself.
âYou fucking bitch!â the guard twice your size growled, swinging wildly only to miss. Your leg extended; you were pleased when he stumbled, only wishing he had fallen flat on his face.
âNow, wait aââ
He was quick to right himself, spinning on the ball of his heelâyou were quicker, kneeing him in the nuts so hard he doubled over, but you werenât finished yet.
Lifting your arm to gain momentum, you drove the point of your elbow into his spine, causing the offender to drop onto the dirt at your feet.
âI'd say he's down for theââ
Nick couldnât get a word out; you didnât appear to be listening, the android observing your uncharacteristic actions with rapt concern. You were pounding your knuckles into the bastardâs nose repeatedly, sticky crimson coating your fist and the manâs sorely wounded face.
As if coming to from a trance, Valentine whisked forward, snatching your wrist before you could cause the poor schmuck any more damage, thinking he may look worse off than even he, what with his bare wires and metal frame exposed to the elements.
âHey! Whatâs gotten into you?!â Nick barked, his tone alone condemning your inappropriate conduct, the Synth yanking you up so fast you audibly gasped.
âThere ainât no excuse for thisâthis guy may be a jackass, but that doesnât mean he deserves to die!â Nick protested, brows knit in anger the likes of which you had never seen.
You glanced down, only now seeming to notice the extent of his injuries; the man was out like a light. You only cared because he did.
âNick, Iââ you began, voice quavering, losing all resolve as you had been forced to witness Valentineâs sweet disposition vanish, quickly replaced by something undeniably frightening.
You never once imagined yourself to be the victim of his choler, finding you absolutely hated it, breaking down all at once to cry despite not meaning to. You felt simultaneously overwhelmed by guilt and embarrassed beyond measure, unable to look him in the eye.
âDonât Nick me, this isnât like you, thisââ The man froze, his grip slackening as he loosely held on, thoroughly confused by how you could go from nearly murdering a man in cold blood with your bare hands, to shedding tears in the span of under a minute; he moved to grasp you by your shoulders.
âWhatâs going on?â he asked, perplexed, the question dry on his tongue. He searched your face for any hint of what the matter was, wondering if youâd lost a screw sometime after leaving Diamond City, as he thought he had a handle on how you operated.
You could not will yourself to respond, vision clouded, droplets pelting your cheeks as you gazed at the ground. You felt worse than a scolded child; you had never meant to upset him so, it being decidedly more terrible than any physical pain you had yet to endure.
âLook at me, damn you!â Valentine demanded, gently jostling you back to the present moment, though your tears only increased, Nick having never cursed at you before.
âValentine,â you whispered, eyes shimmering, Nickâs fury subsiding to a dull roar as he waited for you to explain yourself. The crease of his brow evened out, the Synth notably more relaxed, though he did not trust you wouldnât lash out again.
âGo on,â he urged sharply, wanting to get to the bottom of your behavior. It was unnerving, not knowing what else you were capable of at the drop of a dime.
It was an understatement to say that he was surprised when you lifted your arms, pulling the man forward to enfold in your tight embrace. You buried your cheek in the tattered, stained fabric of his coat, crying more softly now as it started to rain.
âDonât listen to them,â you pleaded, âdonât ever listen to them. Youâre perfect just the way you are,â you spoke with earnest, your lips pressing a tender kiss to the spot that lacked a heartbeat, though the gesture stood apart on its own.
âI canât stand itâthe way people treat you, the way they talk down to youâif only they knewâif only they could see what I seeââ you sobbed, the sound of your cries muffled against his chest; it was firm, his shirt smelling like coolant and ozoneâcigarettes mixed with something earthyâyou breathed in deeply, overcome with silent relief when Nick placed his metallic hand on the crown of your head.
âI... I appreciate you, doll,â he started, his voice turning toward a soothing cadence, the way he pet your hair in long, slow strokes comforting you more than it should. âBut you didnât have to do that; would have preferred if you didnât. Jerks like him get their comeuppance, but it shouldnât be at the price of dirtying your hands.â
You had never been this intimate with him, nor had you ever planned to beâhis words were unscripted, and his affection given of his own volition. You curled in tighter, nuzzling your way into the crook of his good arm, wanting to entomb yourself there for all eternity.
âIâm sorry,â you offered apologetically, feeling the pressure of Nickâs own arms around you, returning your hug, making you feel as if you could die happy at this moment, not minding in the least that there was an unconscious, bleeding man lying only a hairbreadth away. âIt hurts me, like I know it hurts you.â
Nick was quiet, mulling over the fact it didnât do you or him any good to disparage his own person when there were others to do it for him. He had never considered the effect it might have on those around him; it came naturally to want to harp on his own shortcomingsâor had it come natural to the real Nick? That was the million-dollar question, wasnât it.
âYouâre right, it does. But I shouldnât let it bother me, not when I have people like you by my side.â
âI love you, Valentine,â you countered, not recognizing the softness of your own voice. You felt a shift beneath you, your head being coaxed to rise by way of a slow tilt of your chin.
Nick stared down at you, gleaming, golden eyes emoting dolefully as he gazed into yours. He held a deep-seated sorrow, not only for you, but for himself, wishing that he was human, if only so he could touch you, hold you, kiss you the way he wanted to.
âThatâs not the smartest thing youâve ever said, but I take it you mean that,â Valentine replied, bending low to brush soft, silicone lips across yours of flesh and blood; they were cool and rough in texture, but not unpleasant. The fact he was kissing you at all was a dream come true.
âWith all my heart,â you replied, cupping the Synth's battered cheek in the bowl of your palm, fingers trailing over artificial skin in a light caress.
âSo, thatâs what this was all about,â he remarked, conjuring up a smile. âYou know, Iâd give you mine,â he added solemnly, his glum tone indicative of something he was not telling you.
Instead of elaborating, Nick changed the subject, always one to brighten a dark mood. âNext time, just tell me whatâs on your mind instead of beating the living daylights out of some poor schmo, all right?â
You managed a smile of your own, delighting in his sarcasm, glad for the fact your confession had taken a lighthearted turn. âI canât make any promises,â you quipped.
The detective gave a small shake of his head, that lopsided, infectious grin of his spreading up one side of his face. âTaking a page out of my book, are you?â
âI learned from the best,â you breathed, kissing him once more. Though selfish of you, for all you cared, the world could undergo another nuclear war, and you wouldnât bat a lash, not for as long as you had your funny Valentine.
pairing: Hancock x F!Sole Survivor
rating: +16 (this part is like a E but past parts keeps this here)
description: time no longer passes as quickly as it did when you went into vault 111. but with new companionship, it's a good thing.
warnings: none!
authorâs note: glad to have done this. if you have any suggestions for other writing, please feel free to drop 'em in my inbox!
[Part 1]
[Part 2]
[Part 3]
[Epilogue] - You are Here!
Morning light gives way to misty daylight covering the extent of the Commonwealth. While Boston was an irradiated shell of its former glory, the golden morning hour was enchanting nonetheless.
Whilst the morning doves would no longer sing - replaced by the wildlife that now roamed the wasteland - it felt almost that much more peaceful. A silence not unlike what occurs when a fresh blanket of snow sets.
Those days of waking up in the loving arms of a husband before tending to an infant son were far gone. The longer you'd held the thread of your past life, the more it burned at your hands to hold.
Release.
Life continues forward.
Apprehension had gripped tight to your ribcage in those first few months of your new life. Had you let the doubt and fear grip you, a raider would've likely put a bullet through your head by now.
But things will work out the way they're unknowingly planned to. The right place, the right time.
Soon after that night in Goodneighbor, you'd end up with new company in your stead. All loose ends tied; even MacCready had found help with his past and with his son before you set out into the world again. A new gun at your back, a new companion to carry you through the wastes.
As the sunlight streamed into the window of the building you'd been holed up in, the scorched nightmare of an earth was replaced by the feeling of tenderness. There was the lightest sound of babbling water outside, soothing your waking mind.
Just a few short months earlier and you'd think yourself now as insane.
Company was hardly tough to come by. After settling your dues with MacCready, you took on your final job in Goodneighbor before breezing out of there. That job he'd mentioned to MacCready ended up being the last one you'd tackled together for a time.
Your arms wrapped tighter around the body beside you, wanting nothing more than to roll over and continue dozing for the day. But Preston would want to hear how clearing the boathouse went, and how soon settlers could start joining the cause.
The dealings with Bobbi left a sour taste in your mouth. Not the proudest moment - realizing you'd been played and began stepping on Hancock's toes. The walk back to Goodneighbor after the bust was daunting, the confrontation more so.
However, the first view you have taken in morning after morning since then was the ghoul him. Midnight drinks around a campfire, covering one another's backs, and more confrontations since stepping into the Commonwealth had formed something between you both.
Just like that, you were an inseparable duo. Even now, he was resting peacefully, body draped over your side with arms resting lazily around your torso. As much as he'd deny needing rest it was always quite obvious in your mind how tired he truly felt.
Your fingers danced along his face gently, letting them trace over the leathery skin. Not that you'd minded it despite his casual self-deprecation he tried to lace under his silver tongue. Looks are far from his only defining feature.
"Mister Mayor," you cooed softly before pressing a kiss to his forehead. "John, you and I both know we have a hell of a hike back to Sanctuary today. You should start getting up."
Perhaps the gentle nature of trying to wake him up was counter-intuitive. Hancock simply grumbled something, body stretching slightly as he moved before laying himself further across your chest and burrowing himself into comfort again.
"John," you can't help but laugh as you speak. The jackass is smiling. He knows exactly what he's doing. "I'll drag you out of bed if you don't get up. You know I can."
"Honestly, I'd love it if you did sunshine." He taunted playfully in a singsong voice. "Feel free to carry me back too. Gotta show the Minutemen what their general is capable of."
"As if." Another kiss to his bald head with a smile curved on your lips. "You weight a total of 45 pounds soaking wet. It's like watching a deathclaw carry a radroach on it's back."
"Unfortunately, not too many radroaches look quite as good as me. We'll be makin' heads turn across the Commonwealth." Finally, his dark eyes opened to look at you with such admiration. He pressed his hand to your cheek, palm cupping it as he smiled back tiredly. "Not that I'm surprised...you're amazing."
Your hand met his where it rested before pulling into a sleeping morning kiss. A warmth spread in your cheeks at the gentle nature of being held so close and loved.
You both hesitantly part after a moment, meeting with a quick peck before moving to sit up and causing him to roll off of you at last.
"No more distractions, you and I gotta get moving soon."
I've been hopping back into Fallout 76 for the expansion and restarting for a future ghoul character.
Mort is so freaking funny? Bro is mid Edu-tape and starts yelling for Solomon because he sees blood? Echoing out on the tape? Doing the equivalent of the Jeopardy theme while waiting for the listener to build power?
They gotta stop making ghouls ooze charisma. Especially when they're just wayward NPCs who you'll only see in one location.
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