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@rev3nanttt
Hancock cannot swim in my game lmfao so i made this
no because why does he do this lol
i think my game is bugged because the SECOND hancock gets into water, he flaps around like a bird and then literally vanishes to the bottom of the river and doesnt come up until im like 8 miles from the water LMAOOO
hes just a little special <3
Hancock x Reader oneshot- WELL I DO!
Hancock experiecnes withdrawls and you are there to comfort/steady him. just a cute little fic for you hungry gremlins <3
dont worry, more *fun* fics will happen as well, I am just very burnt out and psychology is a HARD MAJOR. Enjoy this little thing I wrote at 3 am
Xx hes so sweet pls play fallout 4 I beg of you
********************************************
You couldn’t see anything. You didn’t know where you were going—all you knew was that someone had grabbed you, thrown a sack over your head, and was dragging you somewhere.
You couldn’t run, couldn’t fight; tight ropes bound your arms and wrists, forcing you to comply. The person pulling you suddenly stopped, and you froze. What is happening?
You hear murmuring voices, some laughter, hushed whispers.
With a terrifying jolt, you're lifted off the ground. Your head spins, disoriented.
Then, without warning, the arms holding you up give way, and you drop onto hard ground. You hit the floor hard, gasping as the wind is knocked out of you. Struggling to sit up, you feel the sack over your head being yanked off.
You stare at your captors. A large raider in tattered power armor leers at you, arms crossed over his chest.
“Now get in there, Vaultie, and shut up until we have something to bargain you two for,” he says, slamming the door behind him with a loud clatter.
The room falls silent.
You quickly scan the tiny, closet-like space, searching for anything that might help you get the ropes off.
Wait. Two? Did the raider say there were two of you?
“Oh, great. They got you too.”
You whip around at the voice, spotting someone sitting against the wall, partially hidden by old crates.
The tricorn hat and red coat give him away immediately. You gasp.
“Hancock?? I—I thought we were separated. What—”
“I couldn’t find you in Goodneighbor, so I started looking for you. I knew you were with Piper, but she didn’t know where you’d gone either.”
Hancock’s voice has a hint of worry in it. His arms are crossed, fingers twitching anxiously over the fabric of his sleeves.
“I thought you were dead,” he admits bleakly, his dark eyes more clouded than usual.
This wasn’t normal. The witty, quick-tongued Hancock was gone, replaced by a nervous, fidgety version of himself. Something was wrong.
“Hancock, are you alright?” you ask, leaning closer and reaching a tentative hand toward him.
He scoots back immediately, putting more space between you.
“Fine,” he snaps, turning away and wiping his mouth.
Silence.
You’re taken aback by the sudden sharpness in his tone and pull your hand back, twisting it nervously in your other one. Something is definitely wrong. His breathing is too fast, too uneven. He won’t even look at you—he always looks at you.
The seconds stretch on, heavy and suffocating.
“Hancock. Something is wrong. You can tell me,” you say, voice gentler now.
You watch him, waiting.
Hancock lets out a loud sigh and shifts, propping up one knee and resting his arm on it. He glares at you.
“Yeah, there’s definitely something fucking wrong. We’re sitting here like a couple of fish in a barrel waiting to get gutted,” he snaps, wiping his mouth again.
You cross your legs and face him, trying to keep your voice firm but kind.
“You know that’s not what I’m talking about, John.”
You don’t push, don’t pry. He’ll talk if he wants to.
And lucky for you, he always does—though it’s rarely in a pleasant way.
“Well, the girl’s a genius,” he mutters dryly.
He jumps to his feet and starts pacing, knocking into some of the scattered boxes in the room. He’s murmuring something under his breath, too low for you to catch. Then, to your shock, he suddenly punches the wall, cursing.
“John—”
“I need them. I can’t fucking believe—FUCK!” he yells, punching the wall again.
Angry shouts echo from outside.
Your heart starts pounding. If he keeps this up, Hancock is going to get you both killed.
You leap up, grabbing his arm to pull him away from the wall. “John, STOP,” you plead, struggling against him.
He shoves you off, baring his teeth.
“Why? WHY THE FUCK DO I NEED TO STOP?” he yells, chest heaving.
He’s trembling. The withdrawals are hitting him hard, and this one is crashing down at the worst possible time. But he’s too deep in it to care.
You stare at him, momentarily speechless.
“I’m not some great fucking mayor with smooth skin and big dreams, okay, Vaultie? I’m a fucking GHOUL. So stop acting like this is some ‘saving grace’ shit. You can’t save me.”
His eyes are wild, locked onto yours.
Silence.
Hancock slumps down against the wall.
Fine. If he wants to sulk, let him. You need to figure out a way to get out of here.
“Just fucking leave me,” he mutters. “I’m only gonna slow you down.”
You whirl around, stunned.
“What?? Hancock, what are you even talking about? Why—”
“I don’t even know why you’re giving me your damn time. I’m a ghoul. A drug-addicted, nasty fucking ghoul. Everyone hates us.”
He scoffs, then mutters with a hint of sadness, “Nobody needs us.”
Hot tears sting your eyes. He’s hopeless, defeated. That’s enough.
You march forward and grab him by the shoulders.
“WELL, I DO!” you scream, tears spilling down your face.
“Don’t you EVER talk about yourself like that again, you hear me?! GOODNEIGHBOR NEEDS YOU. I NEED YOU.”
Your words reverberate off the walls, sending a chill down your spine.
Hancock stares at you in shock. His eyes grow sad, and his shoulders stiffen.
“I… oh shit. I didn’t mean to—”
“Who I fall for is my business,” you say defiantly, crossing your arms. “And I choose a ghoul. So fucking what?”
You place a gentle hand on his shoulder, looking up at him. His dark eyes are locked onto yours in a way you’ve never seen before.
“John, listen to me. I know you’re withdrawing. I don’t care. I don’t care if you’re a ghoul. I don’t care if you’re addicted to chems. I chose you. Let me choose you.”
You smile softly.
Hancock opens his mouth, but before he can speak, the door swings open.
The same raider from earlier is standing there, sneering.
“Nice confession, lovebirds,” he taunts. “But it’s time to cut the party short. You’re dead meat.”
Your stomach drops.
You step behind some crates, instinctively positioning yourself in front of Hancock. Your heart races.
These aren’t just raiders. They’re Fiends.
Cannibals.
You take a hesitant step back—
Something cool slides into your palm. Metal. A switch.
Click.
You recognize the sound instantly.
Hancock’s switchblade.
They hadn’t checked his boots.
You glance at him. He gives you a shaky nod.
“Your aim’s better than mine, sweetheart. Especially right now.”
You nod back.
Hancock grips a battered metal pipe.
“Go get ‘em, sweetheart.”
In a flash, you lunge.
In a flash, you lunge toward the raider, slamming the switchblade into the center of his neck and using all your strength to heave him to the side. He screams and falters, collapsing to the ground, his head smacking against the pavement.
You burst out of the room, scanning your surroundings. There are maybe five people in here, all armed. You spot Hancock’s shotgun and make a run for it. Dodging the larger opponents is easy—you’re small and nimble without the bulky power armor they’re wearing.
A sharp yank stops you mid-stride. You scream. Someone’s got a hold of your hair, and they’re not letting go. Twisting around, you see a raider holding a sickeningly sharp blade. He raises the knife—then drops.
His entire left cheek collapses inward, and he crumples to the floor. Behind him stands Hancock, the barrel of his pipe still raised.
"Grab my gun," he says, chest heaving.
You slip away, smash a glass bottle on the ground to slow down any pursuit, and snatch up his shotgun. You sprint toward the nearest hatch—not the front door, but an exit nonetheless.
A gunshot rings out. A bullet whizzes past your ear as you fling yourself into the hatch. Hancock is close behind.
You both tumble into a sewer, landing hard. Laughter echoes around you.
"They won’t last a fuckin’ day," a voice jeers.
Mirelurks.
You and Hancock don’t stick around to find out if they’re right. After what felt like hours of walking through a maze, you finally make it to the nearest settlement.
Inside the walls, Hancock collapses onto a bench, exhausted. You both sit there, catching your breath, the air thick with unspoken words.
"Nice shootin’, girl," he says, grinning despite his weakness. His hands are still trembling. You pause. He still needs his fix. “Thank you. Here, hold on a sec.”
You stand and head toward the nearest merchant, buying a box of orange Mentats—his favorite. When you return, you pass him the box.
"Thank the bombs for you, sweetie," he murmurs, popping two into his mouth. Almost instantly, his nerves settle, the shaking gone.
You sit down beside him, hesitating for a moment before speaking.
"So…uhh. What were you gonna say in there?" Your voice is uncertain, a little nervous.
Hancock gives you a playful smirk. "What, before or after we got interrupted?"
You blush. "John, you know what I’m talkin’ about. Don’t play stupid with me now."
He leans back, making a show of thinking. "Ohhh, yeah. That."
A grin spreads across his face as he shifts a little closer, draping an arm around your shoulders. Your heart hammers in your chest, nervous and uncertain. Hancock’s expression is thoughtful, and he looks down at you, eyes warmer now that the Mentats are kicking in.
"Well," he says, voice softer now. "What I wanted to say was—I thought it was damn obvious I chose you too. Guess the ol’ unspoken thing really was spoken after all."
His clouded eyes meet yours, kind and unreadable. You stare at him expectantly, and he gently takes your hand. “Well, what’s the plan then?” he asks, leaning in closer to you.
You smile, closing the distance between you.
Then you kiss him.
His lips are dry, worn—but warm. Hancock exhales softly, his hand sliding into your hair, stroking it gently. You can feel as he exhales a breath that he didn’t know he was holding.
A human kissing a ghoul must be quite a sight; you hear a couple murmurs and chuckles from the people in the settlement.
You don’t care who’s looking at you in the moment. All that matters is him.
Your choice.
When you finally pull away, you find him staring at you, looking completely and utterly lovesick.
"How was kissin’ a ghoul?" he jokes, adjusting his hat that had slid off to the side. "Gross as all hell, probably."
You laugh, shoving him lightly before leaning in to kiss him again—quick, firm, but reassuring of the words you told him, and the choice you made.
His eyes widen slightly, like he hadn’t expected that. You grin at him.
"It was everything I wanted, John.”
I may or may not have a fallout oc. This is Dahlia! She’s in a *complicated* relationship with Cooper Howard from the fallout show. Enjoy 🤭
I’m writing again. 👹👹 be prepared <3
If I posted cooper Howard x reader or Hancock x reader one shots would anyone read them? Maybe some Nick love too >:)
Of course I can always do more Steve raglan too if you want 👹👹👹
I may or may not have many ideas 🤭
I FEAR I COOKED WITH FIRE ON THIS ONE
My sole survivor X Hancock in fo4
I have him romanced in fo4 and I’m OBSESSED he’s such a gentleman <3
IM ALIVE GANG
I’m playing fallout 4 rn and I’m obsessed with the characters. Have an art dump LOL
HELLO
Guys I'm back! Send me some asks and I'll do my best to make that happen! So sorry for being gone for so long; college is alot of work ughhh I am going to be doing alot more multi-fandom work, and alot of it will be documented here! Updating my Tumblr to the fandoms I am in.
See if you can find me in:
TWDG
WOF
HALO
Silent Hill
Gravity Falls
<333
I will also be posting my art here!