After every enemy he shoots and kills, he always fires an extra round into the corpse. Now....Maybe I just smoke way too much weed when I play Fallout 3, but I swear I've seen Charon do this multiple times.
I've replayed Fallout 3 a couple of times and Charon is always my go to companion. (After I get a fuckton of caps, smh) And this most recent play through I have been staring at his character a bit more than usual.
When you recruit Charon and he kills Ahzrukhal, he shoots him twice, even though the first shotgun blast did the job just fine. I've never paid this much mind, thinking it was ONLY just because of his hatred for Ahzrukhal. But now I've noticed he does this with all enemies! (Well most, he and Dogmeat kill shit fast af and I don't always see it)
This is just kind of interesting to me! Always making sure an enemy is dead by doing a double tap is a great reassurance in the apocalypse. It totally makes sense for Charon's character as well. He is a perceptive person, and has probably had more than his share of bad experiences with things not being quite dead. I also wonder if he was taught this skill or if he learned it the hard way?
Even if this is just my imagination it’s something neat to think about with his character!!
Girl now I need a one-shot of free-use with Charon. Like imagine just getting bent over one of those random abandoned picnic tables or waking up with him in your tent/room. Hnsnxcbbfsbxb I need to go lay down-
When Lightening Strikes
Pairing: Charon x Female Reader
Word Count: 1,724
Warnings: smut (18+), dubcon, free use kink, size difference, no real foreplay/poor preparation, rough sex, creampie, very brief aftercare, established relationship.
Notes: Charon fans, please enjoy this little appetizer that will hopefully tide you over until the already-9,000 word virgin reader fic I have for him is completed. Thank you for the ask, Anon, and thanks for your patience! Something short and sweet from me, for once; this one's straight up PWP, folks.
For an absolutely hulking mountain of a man, your bodyguard and companion moved in surprising silence when he chose to. True, neither of you would have called stealth a particularly strong skill of his if asked, but in moments of need, he could be serviceably quiet for a man of his hulking stature. Despite this, it still unsettled you a bit how he was able to teleport right into your bubble sometimes.
Or maybe it only seemed that way because you'd been all but completely asleep when he quietly made his way into your tent.
The two of you had stopped to make camp earlier in the evening than you usually did, attributable to the sickly green radstorm that could be seen rolling up along the horizon from some distance. Personally, you felt just fine walking through the less-intense storms, provided you were adequately covered up and had a few Rad-X capsules to pop, but your bodyguard refused to allow it, insisting that you take cover the moment the first rumble of thunder rolled through the air.
Choosing the most intact crumbled building around, what seemed like it had been some sort of storefront in another era, you set to erecting the little pup tent you carried around with you, tucked away in the corner under the intact portion of the floor above, granting you a sort of double roof. You were pleased, as Charon was prone to griping and moving your whole setup if your tent got wet. Besides, it would be unpleasant to be awoken by the leaking, irradiated rain falling on you.
You took the Rad-X anyway, just to be safe.
While you worked, the massive man began his typical routine of inspecting the area, searching high and low for any potential traps or threats. When he was satisfied that the two of you were safe and alone, he built a small fire, picking a very large rock out of the rubble scattered around and dragging it to just outside your tent. You shook your head gently. Every night was the same; he'd sit and keep watch, cleaning and maintaining that riot shotgun he loved so much, or maybe one of his other weapons, while smoking like a chimney. Many times you'd offered to share your tent or take watch yourself so he could get some rest, offers that went unaccepted time and time again. He didn't rest, as a rule of thumb; that was quite clear.
He had, however, recently taken to visiting you at night sometimes, when the conditions were just right.
You never knew how to predict when it would happen, despite studying him and his habits almost too closely over the last several weeks. All you knew was that when he wanted sex with you, he took it, and something about that gave you a thrill that you were actively chasing, even now. If you couldn't initiate, never really knowing when he was in the proper mood, maybe you could inspire the mood and hope for the best.
Once your tent was fully erected, you toed off your boots and set them in the corner beside your laid out bedroll before poking out, your nipples already pebbling from the slight chill in the air.
"I'm turning in now if you don't need anything." you said, knowing full well he would never ask for anything from you. "I'll see you in the morning. Maybe we can hit the road a little early to make up for having to stop early today."
With that, you allowed yourself the familiar gesture of saddling up beside him, pressing the length of your body against his side as you leaned in and gave him a little peck on the cheek. He didn't respond much, save for a glance towards you as he briefly paused whatever he was doing with the disassembled rifle in his hands. That little pause and sideways glance was more of a reaction than you were typically able to get out of him, however.
It was because of this that you were unsurprised, though still a bit confused with the fog of unconsciousness, when he appeared in the small space, a large part of his body undoubtedly exposed as he loomed at the entrance of the ratty tent. He didn't say anything as you slowly regained your bearings, simply sitting there studying you where you laid on your thin bedroll, the only sound the tip-tapping of the light rain on the building's bones.
"Mmh? What's wrong?" you called into the dark, heart already racing in your ears, only able to make out the vague shape of him there, relaxing incrementally as he crawled towards you in the small space until he sat at your feet.
"Want you." he said simply, massive hands gripping your thighs and yanking your entire body forward, closing the small remaining gap between you. Your legs rested along his as he kneeled over you. He didn't say anything more, pulling away the jacket you'd been using in lieu of a blanket, his touch roaming over your clothed torso and crotch. He was funny like that, rather flowery and loquacious from time to time, spitting out memorized lines, but shifting into truncated, simple speech when he had to respond in earnest, like it made him uncomfortable to do so.
"Is it safe?" you breathed, body squirming unconsciously as he moved to unbuckle your pants and undo your fly with surprising deftness. You were unsure what it was about this particular camping spot that made him feel more reassured than any of the others, but you trusted his judgment; he always protected you very capably, though whether it was because he truly wanted to or because you "held" his contract (in the most literal sense), you were sometimes unsure.
No answer came for your question, of course, only him jamming his hand between your now bare-to-the-knee legs, playing with your swelling cunt roughly as the other one busied itself undoing his belts, the weathered metal of the buckles clinking and tapping along one another as he did.
"Ahh!" you exclaimed at the feeling of his calloused fingers on the most delicate parts of you, wriggling in his grasp unconsciously as he stroked and prodded your clit, slipping his fingers up your shirt to pinch and tug at your nipples.
"Shh." he responded calmly, pulling himself over top of you completely and placing his lips to your throat, butting your head out of the way with his own and inhaling your smell deeply. The vibrations in your ear buzzed down your spine and made you clench and whimper, only fueling him further.
Seemingly satisfied with how wet you were, he grabbed your rather dirty bottoms by the ankles and jerked them the rest of the way off your legs, discarding the grimy article off somewhere to the side. Your still-socked feet slid up his broad, rough chest as he yanked you even closer, your ass riding up high on his muscled thighs as you felt him wrestling with his fly. You'd yet to actually see his cock, or touch it with your hands; the only times you felt it were moments like this, where he brushed you softly as he moved into position. You weren't sure if you believed it was possible that he was as big as he felt.
Your whole body tensed as he slid inside, most of his length parting you quick and hard, knocking the air out of you so thoroughly you couldn't even cry out. Nonetheless, he covered your mouth with his hand as he pulled back, giving one or two shallow thrusts before fully burying himself to the hilt. The hot shock of the sudden stretch was enough to force you to find your voice, your whines filtering through your nose as he began to fuck you.
He was always so quiet at times like this, even moreso than usual even if that genuinely didn't seem possible. You found it nearly impossible to stay completely quiet once he began touching you, even your breathing becoming louder and more dramatic. He, however, didn't seem to hardly breathe at all, like he was still listening for any unexpected sounds outside of the tent, a piece of his mind always firmly focused on monitoring for danger.
It ended rather quickly, but you weren't surprised; nothing about the way he was moving, the harsh way he plucked at your clit and pounded away at you with a great deal of his body weight, communicated that he was trying to prolong things. He let out an incredibly short little grunt as his strokes lost their rhythm, slamming himself as deep as possible as he came, pulsing strongly against your cervix and coating the back of your throat with the taste of electricity.
Your lover didn't pull away from you instantly as he usually did, though, letting himself linger in the crook of your neck, this time actually laying a few soft, simple kisses there as his fingers began to move in smoother, softer circles around your clit once more. His ministrations sent you squirming and mewling, still caged beneath him; he cupped your sweaty face and slipped the tip of his thumb into your mouth to silence you. It didn't take long for him to finish you off, sending you shuddering and clenching around his cock as you lost yourself, curling up against his chest as he rumbled, pleased-sounding.
After you finished, however, he did pull away rather unceremoniously, leaving you panting and completely dazed as he retrieved your jacket out of the dark and tucked it over your uncovered lower half. Lying there disoriented, you drew the worn jacket back up in an attempt to combat the tremble that shook your entire being.
"Go back to sleep." he murmured, his tone neutral, but not indifferent as he slipped back out the tent's flap door. As the rain outside continued to patter over the crumbled city block, you could just barely make out the sound of a lighter striking. The last things you noted clearly before exhausted sleep took you once more, willing or no, was the gentle roll of thunder still electrifying the air, the warm leak of Charon's cum running down your inner thigh.
If Charon is Courier Six, I have a theory as to why he choose that as career, as well differences to him being shot point blank by Benny.
First off! Theory: Charon after the events of Fallout 3 probably didn't become a courier of his own violation. I say this because we are told by him in game that he's no one's errand boy, thus making him the courier on his own a bit dubious. He could have just said fuck it, and been like hey, at least I'm not stuck in a corner, but somehow I doubt that.
Personally, I think his contract switched hands to someone who had need of another courier, and decided that " hey this ghoul works perfectly. He's strong, agile, knows his way around a gun, and looks like he kills children in his sleep. Fantastic!" Charon himself, was likely less than enthused, but in the end, happy that he wasn't stuck in the corner like some strange decoration with a murder function.
Second off, we've got the changes to Charon’s mind and personality. After the bullet(s) got taken out, I imagine that would mess up some functions so Courier Six in general just has brain damage. Doesn't matter if it's Charon or not, brain damage exists. In the case of Charon, probably makes him pretty much not remember shit aside from his name, and vague ideas of what he's done for the last 200 years.
These ideas include commiting atrocities he'd happily forget, the notion he killed a man with a weird name that for the life of him can't remember, once beat a deathclaw to death with his bare hands, knew a really crazy teenager, and that pen knives make excellent weapons in a pinch.
He does not remember anything pre-war, mainly due to those memories already being repressed before he got shot just due to how painful they were, can't remember how he knows several different ways to make a bomb out of pretty much anything, nor why he knows how to make mustard and chlorine gas. Doesn't remember when he got cybernetics, just that his left leg is not entirely real. Also feels like he's missing something important, but in the end decides it doesn't really matter.
Personality wise, I imagine he's actually somewhat more light hearted. Has a bit of a dry sense of humour like Raul does. However he can still be the old grump we're all familiar with, though that side is generally seen when he's around people he doesn't trust, or he's just met. Tends to be polite towards caravans, and has a tendency to do right by most people. He's also surprisingly helpful, (which is based off the head canon of mine that while Charon says that he's no one's errand boy, but in reality does like to help people. He just fucking hates being ordered around like a damn robot. )
I also think that in regards to people being rude to him because he's a ghoul, he doesn't really care if only because he's fairly certain he's been called and treated worse. He's definitely not a paragon of virtue, just because I get the gist he does what needs to be done. Doesn't matter if the methods aren't great, as long as the end results are good.
Absolutely love the fact that Charon with his low intelligence could be considered stupid, yet when you talk to him, he's quite eloquent in his speech and we are straight up told he isn't stupid by Ahzrukhal. Which makes me think that Intelligence is a reflection of whether your street smart or book smart.
Probably a thing already known by the fallout community, I just get highly amused by the fact that if the player were to use Charon’s stats we would qualify for the low int dialouges of speaking sophisticatedly with a drunkard, and being called special needs by a robot.
Of course, I like writing him as someone who can get the gist of things, but anything more complicated than what makes a bomb and what makes a war crime, he's very much at a loss.
I know a popular theory is that the Lone Wanderer becomes the Courier, but what if it's Charon that's the Courier? I mean he sort of fits, considering we don't know jack shit about what happens to him after Fallout 3 to my knowledge, and honestly you can't tell me that man isn't unhinged enough to both punch a Deathclaw in the face, and kill a super mutant with a pen knife.
And getting shot in the face at point blank range is going to fuck with some mental facilities to the point that Charon could straight up just be like "contract? You mean the one where I supposedly get paid if I deliver this chip?"
"No, I mean the one that caused to work for Ahzrukhal and that vault dweller."
"That is a rather horrid name. I think I would recall working with a vaultie, or this Ahzrukhal."
Anyway, that's my theory that may spawn hideous amounts of plot bunnies. So many plots, so little focus.
Personal head canon about Charon if we assume that he's at least two hundred and forty by fallout 3, and has a military background, is that he's a cyborg.
It's not a too often seen in fanfiction and if it does shows up in a fic it's either because Charon went through the same procedure with the lone wanderer, or it's what ties him to his contract.
I like using it to explain away Charon’s loyalty to the contract myself, but I like going further. I like to think that the implants we can get in fallout 2, Charon is also in possession of, aside from the intelligence implant. It helps explain why Charon is still in pretty good condition for a ghoul of his age and lifestyle.
Take for instance Raul, the ghoul mechanic/gunslinger from new vegas, he suffers from arthritis due to how he was in his youth. Keep in mind that Raul was only in his twenties when he went ghoul, while Charon was probably in his forties. Bit of a large age gap and difference in how the body functions.
Of course, we could explain it by saying that Charon’s just lucky or that he does have these issues, he just never mentions it. We could. But where's the fun in that? I'm sure Charon is probably pretty stiff when he's free from being a bouncer, but honestly I think anyone would be stiff after spending god knows how many years standing in a corner day in, day out. But the idea that he's a cyborg, one that was aumented to better serve his employers who were probably meant to be high ranking military officials, means he was likely made to be faster, have better reflexes and endurance.
Maybe his augmentation was combined with a a serum that further enhanced his abilities, but kept him from breaking free the contract, which is where I like to think that Charon’s brain is a fucked up mess of wires, mechanical bits, and organic flesh. Give me Cyborg Charon who looks relatively normal, but is enhanced to better serve his functions as a glorified slave.
Hell, to take it further, why not in areas in which bone is present, one can spot metal covering the bone, and maybe the reason his perception is so good, is BECAUSE his senses have been augmented. Maybe one of his eyes, though looking like a normal eye, there's just something off about it. Something that makes you think it might not be real.
I kinda wander if Charon feels pain everytime he goes into Megaton because of the fucking nuke, and he's just permanently in a state of silent screaming everytime he goes by it. The worst part is probably the Children of Atom mainly because they worship the very active nuke.
I can imagine that because of his high explosive skill, he probably is just like "May I please disarm the nuke? It is for your safety" to his employer and when told no, he probably is just on the verge of tears.
I love how I have two different backgrounds for Charon that are essentially the same, but they have these small key differences.
Like the first background is used in the Military Wife AU (I really gotta find a better name for that series) and in that one Charon is some nineteen year old rebellious fuck whose knowledge of explosives is non-existent and instead got captured because he got caught while setting fire to an american encampment. The Americans did not send him to prison, and instead decided the angry Canadian would make an excellent super soldier. Technically a failed experiment, and also not really a ghoul.
The other background is the one I use outside of the AU, and is what I headcanon to be Charon’s past. This one is a older than nineteen, probably in his thirties, and was an active part of the Canadian Rebellion. He does have knowledge of explosives having worked previously in the railroad industry, and was the local demolition expert. Upon being captured the Americans put him into an experiment that would hopefulky create a prototype of the perfect soldier. A soldier who could function like an Assualtron but with the benefit of being a human in order to better be used alongside regular troops. They sort of succeeded, though Charon does have his needs, and he enjoys finding loopholes in orders that he doesn't particularly like. Is actually a ghoul, though might be in better condition due pre war augmentations.
The two have the same backstory in the way of how they came into Ahzrukhal's "employment". In my mind, it wasn't Charon who made mistakes that landed him into Ahzrukhal's hands, but instead it was his previous Employer being indebted to Ahzrukhal that caused his contract to trade hands. The being raised by slavers thing is probably a twisting of words that eventually became truth. Both probably have cybernetics as well.
