Currently obsessing over Fallout (TV) and how wonderfully adapted it is to the game (imo). Since I’ve got it bad for the hot melted ghoul, here’s a little period/comfort fic since my uterus has it out for me. Happy new year :p
notes: yeah Sooo hello yap city! This is lowkey a self insert… but hey! My page, my blog, my fixation, my fic.
Cooper had run around with you for about two months: never settling, almost dying every day, and finding comfort in your presence. You were born topside but hadn’t traveled until you received word that you had a brother. Long story short, no one would go with you so you started the solo trip. You ended up ‘hiring’ the ghoul for protection from the deadly creatures you’d had the pleasure of not experiencing.
You’d found him, met him, and decided you were not interested in staying with him. By then, a week and a half had passed and the ghoul let you hunt bounties with him as long as you kept getting him discounts on RadAway and RadX.
But you’d convinced him to play house for a couple days at a pretty well maintained residence… and so he did. Go out during the day and do whatever it is he had to do before coming back and bringing you materials to make food. For two days, you convinced him to stay.
Two days of asking him about the life he led before the war, playing cards, sleeping in a bed (dusty as all get out, but it was still a mattress!), and getting further past that wall you knew he had up. It was the evening of the second night you had reluctantly agreed to leave: you stood up and stretched as violently as always before ambling to the window and peeking out the cracked glass over the sink.
“Part of me hates how much I hate my life when I’m more able bodied than half them people,” you spoke aloud, words aimed at nobody in particular.
You heard his footsteps come up behind you and felt… odd. A bizarre feeling, truly, to feel eased at the mere presence of someone who would trade you for a pot of stew. He peered out the window too before leaning against the counter saying “Lead a life of hatin’ yourself, sweetheart, ‘n you’re gonna kill yourself ‘fore anyone pulls a trigger.” He must have seen the quirk of your brow even though it was dark. He sighed and tried again. “I’m not good at this no more, darlin’, but… all we’re going to do is die in the end. You sure as shit are too nice in a world like this, but in the end, everyone is gonna end up like that dust out there. So you can survive and lose sleep over what people can and can’t do, or you live ‘n do everythin’ you can do put some kinda meaning into your life. Or whatever. Hell. Go to bed,” he cursed, waving his hand in a dismissive manner.
You glanced at the ghoul and found that a small smile had pulled at your lips while he did his best to comfort you. “Good night,” you murmured tiredly, patting the ghoul’s jacketed arm twice as you yawned and made your way upstairs. Sleep had turned you so bleary, you missed the way Cooper blinked intently at the spot your hand has been moments before you walked away.
The next morning was a nighmare. You woke up to a pain in your stomach— sharp enough to wake you from some dream about an actual non-radiated beach. It wasn’t light out yet so you stumbled carelessly to the bathroom and slid to ground in front of the unused toilet. You rested your forhead against your forearm that was on the toilet seat. You were still dreary when a sharper wave of pain terrorized your stomach: sharp enough to elicit a choked exhale from you.
“Fuck’re you doin?” Came a voice from outside the open door.
Wet dribbled down your cheeks as you pushed your head into your forearm and gritted your teeth. “Hurts,” you choked out, rigid body unmoving.
“Sick? Shot? Constipated? What the hell is wrong?” The ghoul asked again as he stepped closer.
You were damn well awake now: breathing slowly so you didn’t hyperventilate. Biologically, you were usually under enough stress with insufficient sustenance for your period. Now, though, you would go as far as to assume your body figured it was safe enough to get those eggs out of you. Boy were you paying for all those months you missed. “I can’t move,” you said, cramps easing for now. “It- fuck, it hurts.”
“What hurts?” He asked again, more confused than he had ever been with you. The ghoul approached your shaking form with caution.
“My stomach. It- can you-“ you swallowed a sigh of relief as the pain eased slightly further- “pick me up and take me back to the room? Please?”
“Course I can, princess. Let your obedient servant escort you to your room at once,” he muttered sarcastically. Though his usual snark and annoyance was noticeably absent. He slipped his hand under your knees and over your back. When Cooper pulled you up, your eyes screwed shut and you almost squirmed out of his hand. Cooper felt useless and annoyed and confused because what the hell was wrong with you when you were just find the night before?
You practically melted into the bed when you came in contact with it again— falling to your side and curling into yourself like a shrimp. You could have rolled your eyes at the ghoul’s dry “you’re welcome” as he turned on his heel.
“Stay.”
The ghoul stopped. Silent.
“You have warm hands. I need heat. I’m sorry,” you rushed, back facing away from him. “I just… I think it’s my uh… cycle… and I don’t have any stuff and I-“
Cooper watched your curled up form shake with tears and embarrassment and pain and felt a little dumb that he didn’t assume earlier. Menstruation cycles sure weren’t a problem for him, and after so much time being a male in a world of isolation and other males and women that didn’t talk about their cycles made him forget about that. But he remembered now: how Barb often gravitated toward the warmth of the house (usually Copper because he did run hot) and became either emotionally blunt or incredibly sensitive. Yes.
Cooper found his chest meeting your back as he situated his legs comfortably behind your own. He rested his arm against the dip of your side to position in a way that eased the pain in your stomach. Despite the hot climate, your hands were cold and Cooper could only assume that meant you were a cold person as well.
After a stretching moment of silence, you shivered slightly as you exhaled deeply leaned into the ghoul’s body heat. Both of your hands pressed your makeshift heating pad close to your body as you started to calm down. “Thank you.”
Cooper felt you relaxing into him— physically leaning into him and curling your fingers around his larger hand— and he let himself breathe. “Good night, princess,” he murmured quietly.
Fic Summary: Being a synth is rough, frequent repairs are quite important. As much as Nick would want to put those off, Sole isn't having any of that. (Mostly just some fluff, very much one-shot-y).
Rating: General Audiences.
Relationship(s): Nick Valentine/Sole Survivor, any gender, or non-binary.
After days of sunshine and radstorms. Sole and Valentine came back to Diamond City after an awfully taxing day out in the Commonwealth. They plopped down on the newly added couch in the agency and were wrecked, some more than others.
Due to some cynical bastard in the Institute programming pain into Valentine's code, he withered in pain on the couch, almost unbeknownst to Sole, until they eventually noticed his uncharacteristic silence. Not even one snarky remark or sarcastic comment?
Sole turned to Nick, "you doing alright?"
"Oh, yeah, I'm alrigh-" A spike of pain interrupted him and a groan came from his throat before he could finish his sentence.
"Are you hurt? What happened?" Sole asked, concerned.
"If I had to guess, one of those raiders came up behind me while we were in a scuffle."
Sole's eyebrows furrowed in concern, "Can I help? Here, let me see."
"No, no I'll be fine, I'll just do some tinkering later and I'll be as good as new." He remarked.
"You can barely sit up, you really think you're in good enough shape to repair yourself?" Sole added.
"Well, uh..." Nick tried to think of something to say before Sole interrupted his train of thought, "That's what I thought. Now, let me see."
Nick reluctantly allowed Sole to see the damage under his dress shirt. "Do you even know how to repair old synths like me?" He asked.
"I used to repair Cogsworth when he'd malfunction or get damaged, how hard can this be?" Sole explained while unbuttoning Valentine's shirt.
Valentine's whole side was dented and some important looking wiring was poking out. There was some coolant splattered on his shirt and body, and some screws loose. It looked incredibly painful, at least for a robot.
"Geez, this looks awful." Sole said while gently touching the damaged body plates.
"Well, thanks for the observation, doc, now how about treatin' me?" Nick sarcastically remarked.
"Har har." They observed the damaged area more, "Do you have any tools?" They asked.
"Yeah, in the back where my room is."
As Sole walked over to fetch the tools they said, "You're going to have to take your shirt off if you want me to repair you."
Despite being a synth and all, Nick didn't really have anything to hide, but he still had standards, and generally preferred to keep his clothes on. If his face could flush it would but, due to the small factoid of Valentine having coolant in place of blood, he could not. As embarrassed as he was he removed his shirt and waited for Sole.
Obviously Sole did not care as much as Nick did because they got straight to the repairs.
Sole unscrewed his body plates very carefully and started examining the interior. The first few minutes were awkward, at least for Nick, and were filled with silence.
Coincidentally, this is how their friendship started too. Sole wasn't much of a talker. They'd chuckle at Nick's jokes occasionally and speak when spoken to, but generally never started a conversation, at least at first.
Valentine understood why, Sole was broken, a dead spouse, a kidnapped child, desperate to figure out the truth. But, eventually, as Nick opened up more, so did Sole, over time he realized they are much of a talker.
"I've been wanting to tell you something, Valentine."
"Yeah? What's on your mind?"
"I wanted to say thanks, for helping me find Shaun and just... for everything else. I-... you know, ever since I woke up, I've felt so lost and scared, all I had was Cogsworth and even at that, he seemed different." Sole then looked up at Nick's glowing yellow eyes, they seemed to shine brighter. "Being here with you, makes me feel a lot less lost and scared."
Nick was flattered, he just couldn't articulate it. In all honesty, having Sole look at him so tenderly in the eyes like that made him feel a certain way he just couldn't explain.
"It's uh, no problem, really. I mean, you did get me out of that vault, least I could do was return the favour." Nick said, trying to retain eye contact with Sole.
Despite not having much of a heart, having Sole, helping him in a, at least what he considered intimate way, made it feel like his heart was beating out of his chest. He's felt this before, just not in this body.
He knew what this was, he's been feeling this ever since they closed the Nakano case all those months ago, he just wasn't sure how to act on these feelings. He didn't feel like he could. He felt as if he'd be imputing himself in a place someone else had been long ago. Not to mention his ever growing identity dilemma.
But, being here with Sole, having this conversation made him feel like he could.
"There's also been something I've been uh, also needing to tell you." Nick said.
Sole looked back up at the old synth and halted what they were doing.
"I know I'm not a sight for sore eyes, hell, I'm a 100 year old synth who isn't even sure who he really is." Nick's eyes glowed brighter, he felt his hands tremble slightly as he tried to hold Sole's. "But I can say, with all confidence, seeing you walk into my agency asking for my help, is possibly the best part of my day."
Sole's face flushed a little, and a faint smile grew on their face. They leaned in close to Nick's face, the glow of his eyes reflecting onto their skin.
"You really think that?" Sole asked, their voice almost wavering.
Nick leaned in closer, his eyes grew brighter, "Sure do."
There was a tension in the air, it was as far as uncomfortable can get. They got closer and eventually Nick's synthetic, cold lips pressed against the warmth of Sole's.
Nick pulled away for a moment, held their shoulders and asked, "Before we start something that'll be difficult to end, are you sure you want to do this... with me? Like I said, I'm a century old synth with another man's memories inside my head."
Sole held his face in their hands, and said, "Valentine, there's nothing I want more than this old toaster."
Nick smiled and leaned back into Sole, but they pulled away before he could place another kiss on their lips. "Let's fix you up first before we do anything rash, alright?"
Valentine chuckled, "Oh, alright." He leaned back into the couch, watching as Sole tinkered with the various mechanics in his body. Replacing screws, tightening parts and cleaning the spilt coolant.
Twinges of pain went through him every once and awhile, but he wasn't worried with Sole being the one to repair him.
Synopsis: The news had taken everyone by shock. The Minutemen had been the one to take down the Institute. It's evil being rid of the Commonwealth once and for all.
But that doesn't mean that Nate's work is over. There is a still a lot to. And that includes helping Danse with his current dilemma of finding out who he truly is. And the pre-war man thinks bringing Danse along on some Railroad jobs will help out.
Hopefully.
Word Count: 2.2K
Pairing: Paladin Danse x Nate (Male Sole Survivor)
Warnings: Slow Burn. Trauma. Eventual Smut.
The only times Danse has had the time to visit to Diamond City, it’s all been for Nate. He sees no need to come to this part of the Commonwealth by himself. Yes, he has travelled and scouted around Diamond City when he was stationed at the Cambridge Station. But even those little expeditions were dangerous at that point of time. Those memories still spark a pang of hurt deep within his chest.
He pushes it aside as he walks down the stairs to the Diamond City centre. He hasn’t seen Nate in two weeks. A whole two weeks since they infiltrated the Institute together with the Minutemen and destroyed the evil from the Commonwealth.
He was more than honoured to do so when Nate had asked him to be by his side. It had given him something to shoot at and fight for.
A part of him only hoped that it would have been the Brotherhood to participate in such a role. But Danse couldn’t argue with Nate when he was set in his ways. His mind was made up ages ago. The whole ordeal out of the Listening Post was probably what tipped him over the edge. It always something that Danse stills ponders on. Still thinking that that day was his last.
But he’s still here, alive, as a synth can get, and standing naked in Diamond City. Not naked per say, but he feels like it.
He’s come without his power armour at Nate’s request. He felt more at home inside of one. But the fact that Nate had asked him to come without one? It made him feel weary travelling from the Castle to Diamond City without it. But he trusts Nate’s judgement even if it might be questionable at times.
Like standing still while aiming down his scope as a super mutant suicider came barrelling his way. Danse was still his sponsor back then and hounded into Nate for being so stupid. He left it out of the report, but that doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing he did for the Brotherhood matters.
He pulls his bomber jacket closer around his chest, the late autumn breeze cold today. He ventures through the market to Nate’s residents at the Home Plate, ignoring the multiple people calling his way trying to upsell their products. He doesn’t need a haircut, or some ammo, or a… swatter? He eyes the red faced man before continuing on.
Anyways.
Danse gives three sharp knocks on the door and takes a step away. He eyes the empty power armour rack, wondering where Nate has kept his T-45. It wasn’t at the Castle, he just came from there. Maybe he’s left it up at the Red Rocket with his wide collection of power armours. He waits a few minutes before knocking again. He doesn’t want to intrude even though he knows Nate wouldn’t care. It’s more out of respect than anything.
“Danse.”
Slowly -at the sound of the very unique voice-, the ex-Paladin turns to meet the synth detective with a frown. Valentine narrows his gaze to him with a raised brow.
“Valentine,” he responds back blandly.
“Glad to see you out and about after everything,” the detective says with as much sarcasm as possible.
“Where’s Nate?” Danse gets to the point, his tone blunt and firm.
But Valentine doesn’t faulter to the demand. His stark yellow eyes flickers behind the former soldier before back at him. “He’s this way,” he says instead with a small wave of his hand.
Danse hesitates for a moment, glancing to the door before reluctantly following after Valentine. He’s well aware that his hate towards the synth is something that’s hypocritical. Yet there’s something so intertwined in Danse’s heart that he hasn’t been able to rid himself of yet. Could be the same reason why he was so ready to die by Nate’s hands. Dropped to his knees and begged that he needed to be the example, not the exception.
Yet Nate had still dragged him from his knees and pleaded. Showed him mercy that Danse didn’t deserve. The ex-Paladin doesn’t think he deserved it. He’s heard from others that Nate has a bleeding heart and Danse wouldn’t be the one to object to those claims. Sometimes it’s a dangerous thing. Getting them into more trouble at times.
The two don’t get far. Valentine stops just outside the chems store and points a skinny, metal finger upwards. Danse looks up without a word and doesn’t see it at first, but when he does he can’t help but stare.
There’s a small, makeshift balcony atop of Nate’s residents, one that overlooks the city. A grand view of the place. It’s a lovely little spot that Nate paid a pretty cap for. But there in his little red throne -a single seater couch- with his head lolled onto his chest, is Nate fast asleep. His hands are overlapped on his torso with his legs outstretched. He reminds Danse of one of those older settlers at Sanctuary that can be seen napping the day away. Every, single, day.
“How long has he been up there?” Danse asks casually. His shoulders have relaxed and his head is slightly cocked to the side like a dog.
“Around three hours now,” Valentine answers with a chuckle. “As far as I know from Piper they came back from the Railroad. They’ve been keeping him on his toes lately trying to help the synths you and him helped out.”
Danse swallows thickly. “It was all him.”
“Whatever you say, big guy,” Valentine speaks softly. “But at least give yourself some credit.”
There’s no response to that and the synth detective hums at that.
“Is that why I haven’t seen high or nigh of you lately? Didn’t want to deal with other synths?” Valentine asks, jabbing at this point.
Danse swallows thickly and changes the subject. “Why was Piper with him?”
Valentine lightly rolls his eyes and looks back up Nate. “She wanted a story. The aftermath of the Institute and what nots. Don’t know how good it’ll be with the Railroad wanting to stay hidden and all.”
“Does it matter anymore with the Institute gone?” Danse asks a genuine question.
It takes Valentine back a bit, the question actually making him wonder. “To some degree, yeah. There’s still synths out there that believe in what the Institute was doing.” The detective pauses for a moment, staring at the soldier. “You’d know that if you didn’t go off hiding away. Nate needs you right now more than ever.”
Danse swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “I’ll wake him,” is all he murmurs before walking off.
He brings the spare keys to Home Plate out of his jacket pocket and unlocks the door. He wouldn’t normally let himself in, despite Nate having told him in the past that this place is more welcome to call home than anywhere else. Like the Castle and Sanctuary.
“It’s ours,” he has said once. It sounds weird on his mind as it did hearing it the first time from Nate’s mouth.
Yet whenever Danse is at those settlements as well, he feels more of the need to keep on his toes and work. Make sure that everything is in order, checking the defence systems more moving onto the water supplies, then onto the generators. Keeping his mind and body preoccupied so that he doesn’t have to think of other pressing matters. Just like the Brotherhood had ironed into him.
But Home Plate, it’s probably the only place that Danse has ever felt relaxed. The noise that seeps in through the thin walls of the place reminds him all too well of the Prydwyn, an all too welcoming murmur of noise. Theres no checklists at Home Plate. Only the mundane need to keep the place tidy of dust and other critters that decide to make themselves home.
Danse is quick to take himself up the stairs to the balcony. He opens the door as quietly as he can, peering around the corner to where Nate still sleeps peacefully on the couch. The ex-Paladin can’t help but watch for a moment with his brown eyes. The usual frown that has somehow become a permanent thing on Nate’s face has now smoothed out.
With a quick glance out below, Valentine is nowhere to be seen and the people of Diamond City pay them no mind. One other thing that was ironed into Danse was their concept on attraction. A Paladin had to be at his best at all times. And that meant to having someone you love dearly being on your mind. The quality and the care for a Paladin’s garrison was all that Danse was able to think about.
Yes, he had come to a point in his sponsorship with Nate that his brewing feelings could mean something much more. Seeing someone being able to hold their own and being able to lead. It had wanted Danse to know more about Nate and who he was before the war. What things were like back then.
Slowly, Danse kneels down to one knee next to Nate’s outstretched legs. He brings a hand up gently and caresses the sleeping man’s face who stirs. Nate inhales deeply as his dark blue eyes blink awake through a squinted, peeping gaze. He looks to Danse with a bleary expression before a warm smile comes to his lips. He leans into the rough hand on his face, cupping it with his own. He turns his face into Danse’s palm and gives it a light kiss, his movements still filled with the grogginess of sleep.
“I think I may still be dreaming,” Nates murmurs groggily.
Danse stands up and places a kiss to the other’s forehead. “Rise and shine.”
Nate groans loudly as he stretches his stiff joints in the couch. He looks out to the small city and blinks.
No matter how much the Brotherhood had said about attraction and love, Nate had always made it feels welcoming though. Something that Danse still finds himself having trouble pulling away from. These past two weeks have been hell sent. But he won’t admit that out loud where the world can hear.
Nate then looks to his pip-boy as he licks his lips. His face goes from placid to wide and frantic within less than a second.
“I was out for over three hours!?” He exclaims as he suddenly sits up straight.
Danse responds quickly with, “Your body needed the rest after everything you’ve been putting yourself through.”
Nate stands up, running a hand through his hair as his peace is disrupted by his own mind and responsibilities once more. This is probably the first time in months that Nate has had some time to himself.
“We’re going to be late!” Nate exclaims. “Did you let me sleep that long?” He asks with no bite to his tone.
“I only just arrived here,” Danse states.
That seems to calm the other man down a bit, his tense shoulders sagging. “Okay then we would have been late anyways,” Nate says more to himself than to the ex-Paladin.
“Why did you want me here?” Danse asks.
Deep blue eyes focus back onto the soldier. “Did you pick up those care packages?” He asks.
Danse could make a comment. A bad comment that would most likely have Nate snapping at him. Because why did Nate have him go to a Railroad drop point to meet up with Deacon of all people to hand him this, box? A care package of some sorts. Deacon hadn’t said much, had just said good luck before moving on with a fat grin on his face. He had tipped his wig of hair like some man in a suit would tip their fedora. It was odd and only had Danse confused even further.
But knowing that this job had to do with the Railroad, he couldn’t help but let that old hatred towards them linger and simmer. He’s aware it’s wrong, they help others of his kind. Synths. Yet there it was, that distaste that comes to his tongue whenever he’s near them or mentioned.
So, he replies with a simple and bland, “Yes.”
Nate picks up on his though and looks to him with a raised brow. “You didn’t do anything stupid with Deacon, did you?” He asks with a hand on his hip.
Danse’s brows shoot up. He should be offended at Nate saying such a thing! “No! I wouldn’t harm one of your contacts even if they’re-“ he cuts himself short. “I wouldn’t,” he repeats himself, his voice more on the verge of a whine than anything else. He clears his throat, hoping to cover it up.
He shuffles around inside of his bomber jacket and holds out the two care packages to Nate instead. Hoping to distract the man from his current inner panic.
Nate takes the packages with a thank you. He opens them both up without a word, looking inside to make sure that everything is intact. From where Danse stands, he can’t see anything but from the look on Nate’s face, everything is satisfactory.
“Alright!” Nate exclaims as he snaps the packages shut. He places them under his arm as he makes his way back into Home Plate. “I want you to join me for a delivery!”
“A delivery?” Danse can’t help but ask.
“A very, dangerous delivery,” Nate grins slyly before he disappears inside.
Danse can’t help but roll his eyes at the comment. Isn’t everything dangerous when it comes to the man? The way he does things is, questionable. Danse groans to himself, before heading inside after the other.
The second chapter of “Lazarus Ain’t got Nothing on me, Sweetheart” is *done* but I feel like it needs to be beta read before I post it. Is anyone willing?
This is the first already posted chapter:
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Romanced! Male! FONV Companions and the first time they’re shown soft forms of Affection
Here it is! The final installment of this prompt! (for the time being, anyway. If y’all request more I’d be psyched to re-visit this one).
I also included Joshua for... reasons. (Ever since doing research on him for the crushing companions prompt, I just... I really like him, okay? And the scene that came to mind for this was just too good to pass up, so here ya go :)
I hope you all enjoy!
FO3 M! Companions with this prompt
FO4 M! Companions with this prompt
Arcade:
The Apocalypse doctor was curled up oddly where he was seated, one leg over the arm of the couch while the other propped him up from below; a pleasant expression played on his face as he turned the page of whatever it was he was reading. Six loitered in the doorway to their bedroom in the Lucky 38, a hand resting below their chin thoughtfully as they gazed at their companion. He hasn’t moved since I left to speak with Mr. House. How the hell is he comfortable this way? Though it may have been a tad creepy on their part, Six had to admit, they loved seeing Arcade this way; unconcerned, peaceful, content, the way he looked when no one was around to bother him, he could just be unapologetically himself.
“Ahem.” Six’s gaze fell into focus on Arcade’s face as he pulled them from their thoughts, his glasses tipped comically down on his nose as he looked at them with raised brows.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t think you, ah, saw me.” Rubbing at the back of their neck, Six stepped into the room at last, moving towards their companion as he cocked a brow at them.
“Yeah… so you just stalk people… recreationally, then? I certainly wouldn’t say you’re a professional.” Six collapsed onto the couch beside him, huffing as a laugh escaped their throat at their partner's tone.
"Yep, definitely just do it for fun. The stalking industry is so hard to get into these days." Out of the corner of their eye, Six noticed Arcade shaking his head in mock exasperation as he turned back to his reading. He gave his fingers a lick and went to turn the page as Six leaned towards him, allowing themself to teeter over until their head bonked against his shoulder.
"Was there anything you needed? Or did you just misplace all the pillows again?" His green eyes flicked to their face for a moment, a glint of amusement reflecting off his lenses, before they returned to peruse the words on the page.
"Mhm." They closed their eyes and nuzzled harder into his shoulder, feeling him flinch slightly as their cheekbone pressed into him.
"That's… that's not an answer, Six, it wasn't a 'yes' or a 'no’ question."
"Mhm." They heard the pages of his reading material ruffle as their partner dropped it to his lap heavily in his show of frustration.
"That's also pretty high up there on the scale of things that are vague and unhelpful."
"Yes. There's something I needed." Six grumbled, as they tried to appease the doctor, eyes still closed as their warm breath fanned downward over his chest.
"Oh?" They felt him shift to look at them again, a distinct fakeness ringing out from the simple word as Arcade feigned interest in what it is they needed from him.
"Mhm. I need you to… read something." They mumbled into him, hiding any trace of their flushed expression as they improvised an excuse for just wanting to be near their partner.
"Come again?" They groaned as they brought their arms over to wrap around Arcade, forcing him to adjust his position to accommodate their invasion of his space.
"Whatever you're reading, can you just… say it out loud? I wanna listen."
A sigh escaped the man and Sole just knew he was rolling his eyes. But they remained rather skeptical of his apparent annoyance in response to their request as he wrenched an arm free from their embrace, bringing it instead to rest over their shoulders. He shifted slightly downward on the couch, so they could rest against him more easily.
"If you insist. Though, I hope you know, this is going to prove to be quite the inconvenience for me."
“Isn’t everything?” They asked quietly, a sly grin forming at their lips as they teased their partner.
“What was that?”
Oh, you heard me.
“Isn’t everything an inconvenience for you?” His pause told Six all they needed to know about the expression on his face. The distinct frown he must have worn, his eyes half covered by his low-set brow. They almost opened their eyes to see it for themself, knowing full-well how adorable Arcade was when he was perturbed, but he spoke before they had the chance.
“Did you want me to read to you, or not?” They had to stifle a laugh at the annoyance in his voice, and answered his question with a lazy nod of their head, using the action as an excuse to burrow themself deeper into the crook under his chin. They felt the vibration of his throat pressing against the top of their head as he began to speak to them, his voice starting out at a normal volume, with little intonation.
As they listened, they heard Arcade begin to relax, his voice becoming low and soft from above their head, an auditory hint to the courier that he was getting sleepy, as his words began to slur slightly. Six panicked a bit, not yet ready for their partner to dissolve into unconsciousness; they wanted to make the moment last just a little longer. Arcade’s voice leapt up an octave, and Six felt the man jolt slightly as they brought their lips to his clavicle, a soft chuckle escaping them at his reaction to their sudden gesture, and his voice picked up again, surprised by the unanticipated contact of their mouth against the sensitive area below his neck. Six felt his grip around them tighten ever so slightly as he continued his reading in earnest, and they couldn’t help but grin, reveling in the softness of his skin against theirs, and the subdued resonance of his voice as it enveloped them, drawing them ever closer to the same sleep they had just denied him.
Boone:
Six smoothed their hands over the map of the Mojave, biting the inside of their cheek in thought as they considered the Legion camps that were highlighted. The soft sound of Boone's snores filled the room as sunlight streamed through the meager windows of their Novac apartment. Sighing, Six began to fold up the map quietly and prepared to ready their bags for departure out into the wastes once again. It had been nice to take a break here, Boone had even resumed his night shift for the few days the pair were in town, but tonight they would head on their way again, this time towards The Fort… Six shuddered at the thought, and jolted as they heard Boone's breath catch from across the room.
They looked over at him, heart thudding in their chest as they saw him writhe from beneath the covers. His breathing had become heavy and desperate, and grunts of pain accompanied the grimace etched on his face. Not another one. Just let him sleep, you bastards! They silently cursed.
Approaching tentatively, Six readied themself to put up with a fight, he always came out of his nightmares fighting. Shrieks of fear and rage, fists flying, and tears running; they were all common in the aftermath of his horrid night terrors.
"Shh. Easy, Boone." They knew it wouldn't help him much, he was still trapped in the depths of unconsciousness. But hopefully their voice could help to ease him out of it. They knelt beside the bed, running their hand up to his arm, stroking smoothly as they felt the muscles tightening beneath their fingers.
"Come on, honey. It's alright. It's not real." Six said a bit louder, hoping to rouse him as his violent flailing began to lessen.
"That's it. You're alright, Boone. You're safe." His eyes wrenched open, and he shot up fast enough to scare Six backwards into a sitting position a foot away from the bedside.
"You're okay! It's okay. It's just me." They told him, willing to keep their voice steady and at least somewhat calm.
Boone's chest heaved as he peered wildly around the dim little room, his arms still shaking from their previous exertion. Six scooted towards the bed tentatively, rising up onto their knees so they could reach out their hand. They didn't touch him, they knew better than to push too far when he was in such a state, but they slid their hand towards him, close enough for him to grasp if he so chose. His broad shoulders rose and fell heavily as he tried to calm his breathing, and Six noted the sweat glistening on his forehead as he finally set his hazy green gaze on them. He brought his hand over to meet theirs, placing it lightly over top of their own before pulling it away swiftly and closing his eyes. The gesture acted as a silent acknowledgement of their presence, a confirmation that he was aware of his surroundings once again, and a sign that Boone’s panic-stricken self was subdued enough to keep from lashing out at whatever was in his vicinity. A rough sigh forced its way out of his throat and he fell backwards onto the bed once again, drawing his hands to rub against his face.
Six stood slowly and circled around the bed until they reached the other side, climbing onto the mattress to sit beside him. Silence encased the pair as Boone wrenched himself out of his terror-filled fog, and Six sat by him, acting as support in the strange way that Boone needed it. He didn't say anything to them, didn't touch them, or even look at them as he quieted his breathing and slowly relaxed his tense body, but Six knew that, if they left his side, he would surely notice. He just needed them there. And they were happy to oblige.
Eventually, Six felt their fatigue get to them, and opted to shift down into a horizontal position. Lying on their back, heavily lidded eyes trained on the off-white ceiling, they tried to keep from drifting off, in case Boone decided he wanted to reach out to them, to seek comfort in them, to touch them, to perhaps even say something to them, anything.
It could happen. One day, maybe.
They had only closed their eyes for a brief moment when they felt it. A strong arm wrapping tightly around their abdomen, anchoring itself there as the body beside them shifted to be flush with theirs. Six's lip twitched upwards at Boone's gesture, and they willed their heart to be subtle in its frantic beating as their partner positioned himself nearly on top of them, his head resting on their chest, his arm still clinging to their side, one leg thrown over theirs as he breathed deeply through his nose, drawing in their comforting, familiar scent.
Six brought their own arm up and across their body, their hand laying softly atop his shoulder, where they gave him a little squeeze. They let their hand remain there as they reveled in the feel of his warmth against them, pushing them deep into the plushness of the mattress below.
"Thank you." They felt him breath into their chest, almost too quiet to hear, and they couldn't keep their grin at bay any longer. Sighing contentedly, Six bent their head forward, pressing their cheek to Boone's forehead in acknowledgement of his words before letting it fall back onto the pillow with a dull thud.
I suppose ‘one day’ is today.
Joshua Graham:
Six ducked their head, extending their hand to push open the flap of their companion's tent. Heat washed over them as they entered the small space, a soft glow shone through the west-facing wall of the structure as it was bathed in the light of the setting sun. Through the dimness, they could make out a shadowy figure towards the back of the covered room.
"Joshua?" They ventured, and Six's breath caught in their throat as the silhouette turned to face them. They hardly managed to make out the details of their companion as he looked towards them; his icy blue eyes practically glowing in the darkness of the tent, his scarred flesh exposed to the elements as he held a roll of linen bandages in his hand. The material was wound around the majority of his waist, leaving his chest, arms, and face uncovered as he peered at them questioningly.
"Oh, love…" They whispered as they moved towards him, eyes trained on his as they tried to avoid centering their attention on his ravaged skin. It's been so long… how can it still look like this?
They wanted to comfort him, to caress their partner and make his anguish vanish forevermore at the light touch of their hands on his skin, but they knew their contact would only make it worse. Six seated themself in front of their companion as he continued to look at them expectantly.
"Yes? Is there something you needed?" Six finally let their gaze fall downwards in their uncertainty. Why had I come in here? Surely there'd been a reason… They couldn't recall, but as they peered down at the floor, lost in thought, their blurred sight came into focus on his hand; the one grasping firmly at the cream-colored bandage. Six felt their own hand reach for his of its own accord, and snatched it back a moment before it could make contact with him.
"Do you… need some help?" His brows furrowed at them, a flustered expression seeming to appear on his face out of nowhere as he glanced down at his bare skin.
Damn, it's good to be able to see his whole face. Six thought, studying the expression intently as they took in the details of their partner for the first time.
"That's kind of you to offer.” He said quietly, “But I can manage." He began to resume his wrapping tentatively, unsure what to do, since Six had never actually told him why they came into his tent in the first place.
"Please. I'd like to help." Six finally brought their hand to his, gentle, but insisting in the way it grasped at the round of fabric, their fingers barely brushing his. He paused his movement, bringing his attention back up to Six’s face as he read their pleading expression.
"Then who am I to deny you?" He said, before turning his hand upwards, offering them the bandage. He unwrapped his fingers from the cloth, allowing Six to take it from him. They smiled at his words and his gesture, scooting themself closer to him in preparation. The missionary raised his arms slightly as they brought theirs to wrap around his body, transferring the bandage roll from one hand to the other behind his back before resuming the action of stretching it over his damaged skin.
"Let me know if I'm hurting you."
"You're not." He assured them quickly, "It's actually… easier this way." His eyes never left their face as they moved around him, his brows softening over his clear eyes, a stark contrast to the blistering redness of the skin surrounding them.
"What do you mean?" They began to wind the fabric up over one of his shoulders, looking to him for confirmation that they were doing it correctly. When he nodded his approval, they carried on with their movements, brows furrowed in concentration and concern.
"With you aiding me," he told them, "I don't need to strain myself to reach around as I normally would. So… thank you." Six smiled at him, continuing their actions as soothingly as they could, still worried about brushing over him too roughly, despite his assurance that he was alright.
The pair continued in silence, Joshua giving them nonverbal nods of approval as they continued down his arm to his fingers, which proved to be quite complicated to bandage properly. With his help, they finished his left arm, moving now to his right with another roll of linen he produced from the bag beside his bed roll.
"I have a question for you." He said quietly, eyes still following their every move as they finished up wrapping his right arm.
"Hmm?" Six hummed, their eyes trained on his fingers once again, as their tongue stuck out from between their lips in their current state of focus.
"This doesn't… bother you?" The words left his throat thickly, causing it to sound strained as Joshua voiced his inquiry. Six's eyes flashed up to meet his for a moment, narrowing as they asked silently for clarification before they returned their attention to his bandages.
"I only mean," he continued, "you don't mind...seeing me like this?" Six finished wrapping Joshua's hand, tearing the fabric with their teeth, and tucking the end into itself to secure it. Looking up, they met his unrelenting gaze, and felt themself shudder slightly at its intensity. They opened their mouth, intending to answer him, but as their eyes flicked to Joshua's lips, seeing them uncovered for the first time, they felt they simply couldn't grace his question with a verbal response.
Bringing a hand up to his face, Six let their fingers brush lightly over the skin of his cheek, leaning towards him slowly so that he could stop them if he so chose.
He didn't.
Instead, their partner pushed forward of his own accord, meeting them halfway, the feeling of his lips as they lightly brushed theirs giving them all the confirmation they needed that he didn't mind their contact. In fact, they would say he quite enjoyed it, as they felt one of his cloth-covered hands come up to caress their cheek as he pressed harder into them, his scarred lips moving almost desperately against theirs; the feeling of Six's soft skin pressed directly to his for the first time driving him into a fervorous state he didn't know he had. The roughness of his mouth as it kneaded theirs created a tantalizing friction that kept Six pleading for more, the temptation to grasp at him more firmly and pull him ever closer coming dangerously close to action. But they managed to hold themself back, settling for the satiating feel of their current contact with their partner.
After a few moments, the pair finally pulled away, in desperate need of breath, and Six couldn't help but grin as they felt a heated blush rise to their cheeks. Their eyes darted upward to lock with Joshua's once again, and they were surprised to see the way they crinkled as his own small smile formed at his lips.
"No, love," They managed to say between breaths, finally deciding to grace his question with a proper response, if only to confirm what the kiss had suggested. "It doesn't bother me. Not in the slightest."
Raul:
Six's eyes blinked open slowly, their lids heavy as they forced them upwards in an effort to find their companion amid the plain of blankets spread out before them; they groaned at the realization that Raul had never actually made it to their bed. I told him to quit working on that damn jammed magazine ages ago.
Six clambered off of the mattress, flailing their arms about as the blankets attempted to keep them constricted in their depths.
"Raul?" They tried, bare feet padding softly towards their bedroom door as they called for him in their groggy, sleep-filled voice. Peering down the hallway of their suite in the Lucky 38, Six noticed a glow shining from beneath the door leading to the workroom. It creaked softly as they pressed their hand to it and Six shook their head, smiling faintly at the sight in front of them. Their partner was still hunched over the workbench, face pressed flush against the metal tabletop, the same pistol he had been working on all evening was clasped weakly in his limp hands. Six made their way over to him, giggling softly as they noticed the dribble of drool wetting the top of the workbench. Oh, I’ll have to tell him about this. And he calls me embarrassing.
Six brought a hand up to brush against his shoulder, rubbing soothing circles over the thin material of his jumpsuit. They bent down and pressed their lips to his temple delicately as their hand's circular movements grew to stroke over the whole of his back.
"Come on, papi. Time for bed." They said to him at a normal volume, hoping their words could do a better job at waking him than their actions had.
They felt him shift slightly at the sound of their voice so close to his ear, and they bent their head lower, coaxing him into consciousness with the pressure of their lips at his brow, his cheekbone, his jawline, then over to the corner of his mouth. Six's kiss to his lips barely made contact before they felt Raul jolt, his eyes snapping open and widening as he noticed their proximity to him.
"Oh! Uh, morning, boss. Or is it even morning?" He peeled his cheek from the surface of the table, looking up at them as his gravelly voice reached their ears.
"Ay dios mío. What is the time, anyway?" The ghoul rubbed at his eyes with his knuckles, chasing the blurriness from his vision as he returned his gaze to the courier.
"It's early, mi amor." They told him, their heart skipping a beat at the lazy smile he donned as they used a few choice words in his native language.
"Too early to be awake. Come to bed." Six rose to their feet, a hand reaching to caress his cheek, encouraging him to rise with them.
"No need to ask me twice. My neck is killing me." The ghoul reached up to rub at the stiff muscle as Six helped him rise from the stool he was seated on. They grabbed his other arm, draping it over their shoulders as they moved slowly towards their bedroom, tucking themself into his side to support him as they made their way down the hallway.
"You know, I think I can manage from here, mi corazón." Six smiled and tightened their grip around the ghoul's waist in a tender act of defiance. He just laughed in response, leaning further into them as he gave in to their supportive action.
When they reached the bed, Six released their grip on their partner, allowing themself to collapse backwards onto the lavish bedspread. Their hand caught Raul's on the way, pulling their companion with them as they fell. He chuckled as he landed heavily on the mattress, trying to brace himself to land with some grace, but ultimately failing as Six twisted to pull him practically on top of them.
“What was that for? I almost kneed you in your unmentionables.”
“That sure would have spoiled the mood, huh?” They giggled at him, turning their head to peer up at his face, “But I suppose it wouldn’t have done any more than the bit of drool on your lip, there.” Six brought a finger to Raul’s lips, poking lightly at the spot. His eyes widened, and though they were quite sure it wasn’t possible, they could’ve sworn they saw him blush as he brought the back of his hand roughly to wipe at his mouth.
“Is it gone?” He asked, bringing his hand away so they could get a better look at him.
“Hmm…” They scrutinized the man, shifting onto their side to face him, and leaning forward enough to feel their nose brushing against his cheek.
“I don’t see--” Raul cut them off as he brought his mouth to theirs, the close proximity proving too much for him to be able to resist.
“--anything.” They mumbled to his mouth as he smiled sheepishly into the kiss.
It was strange… this giddy feeling. Raul didn’t recall ever feeling anything like it, at least, not in a couple of centuries, but as he pulled away, planting one last parting kiss to Six’s nose and throwing an arm over top of them, he knew he could certainly get used to it. The ghoul only hummed in response as he felt Six shift to press themself closer to him, and he grasped at the blankets, pulling them up to cover his companion as the pair began to drift off into sleep once more.
And onto the second prompt list I’ve decided to tackle this month! I’m here with Falloutober, courtesy of @falloutober! I really liked this particular prompt, and I ran with it. Ended up with a bit of a fluffy piece featuring my Sole Survivor, Hawke (originally named Hannah, pre-cryostasis) and her very favorite ghoul, Hancock.
Warnings- mentions of drug/chem use
Length- around 900-ish words
(I don’t remember when exactly I took this screenshot, but it’s a pretty good one of the two of them)
The song floated over from the radio behind them. A small chuckle gave way to a sigh as Hawke snuggled herself deeper into the ratty couch.
***
I don't want to set the world on fiiiire….
"What's funny, darlin'?" Hancock pulled her closer, idly running his fingers up and down her arm.
"This song… it just makes me think. I did see the world on fire. Briefly. It's still so fresh for me, but I'm the only one. It's damn near ancient history for everyone else. I'm the only one who remembers what it was like before…"
"I dunno how you do it. Lookin' out there and knowin' what it all is supposed to look like. I'd be so deep in chems you'd never see me again."
"It's tempting. Trust me. If it wasn't for Shaun…" She took a deep breath. She was no closer to finding her son now than she had been when she'd woken up from cryosleep six months ago.
As if intuiting her thoughts, he rubbed her arm gently. "We'll find him. Even if we gotta storm the Institute ourselves."
"Just you and me?"
"Yeah. Get us both some power armor and we'll be good to go." He joked. A long moment stretched out between them before he asked. "What was it like?"
"What was what like?"
"The world. What was it like before it got blown up?"
The question surprised her a little. He'd never asked something like that before. Others had, but Hancock had always steered clear of anything that would bring up old pain. Ever since he'd gone back to the Vault with her that one time. He'd seen the cryochamber she'd been trapped in all those years, and the one across from it that Nate was still in. It had turned him quiet, and when they’d gotten back to her house in Sanctuary Hills he’d taken a Calmex himself before offering her some. After that, he never asked about her life before the war. Until now.
She leaned a little closer to him, considering her words. "It was different in a way, the same in a way. People are people, no matter what the world looks like. So much is gone, of course; the law office where I used to work is part of the Glowing Sea now. I was just about to head back to work when the bombs fell. Shaun was going to go to a daycare a couple of days a week and stay the rest with Codsworth. I was looking forward to it, going for coffee first thing, seeing my coworkers. I'd even gotten my hair done to be ready." She laughed. "I'd look like a stranger to myself if that me saw me now. I used to wear suits and dresses, skirts with heels. Makeup always done, hair done."
"Mmmm, skirts and heels?" Hancock teased gently.
“Every day.” She teased back. But her smile turned sad. “It almost feels like someone else’s life. I guess it was, in a way. It was before I was me, and I was still her, that woman I was before. It was Hannah’s life, Hannah’s world. And it’s gone now, obliterated in a flash brighter than the sun. That’s what it looked like, you know.”
“You actually saw the bomb fall? I thought you were in the Vault when it happened?”
“We were on the elevator, and it was starting to go down. I didn’t see the bomb itself come down, just this blinding flash. Then the mushroom cloud, this column of fire going up. The elevator had gone down just enough that the shockwave passed right over us. It was loud. Louder than anything. So yeah, seeing the world on fire was the last time I saw it for two hundred years.”
“Oh, darlin’...” he said softly.
“It’s easier to talk about now. Like I said, it feels like another life. And this world… it’s a hard one. But it’s not all bad.” She shifted back to rest her head on his shoulder.
“That’s just the chems talkin’.”
“I haven’t taken anything today. I mean it. I mean, yeah, there’s so many dangerous things now, I never had to worry about Super Mutants and radscorpions and deathclaws before. But this is… freer.”
“You sure you’re sober, baby? You just said you liked this shitty world.”
She laced her fingers into his. “Maybe I’m just more suited to this than I was to that world. I wonder if I really did belong there, or if I was just pretending. Maybe it’s just being so far removed from it… I… I don’t think I’d go back, even if I could.”
“Really? You’re not bein’ serious, are you?”
“I am. I feel like I belong here now. And besides,” She turned to give him a grin. “I’ve met this handsome fella in the Commonwealth. He’s a mayor and everything.”
He chuckled. “I’m glad you’re here, too, darlin’.”
The song had long ended, and another had taken over. They sat for a long moment, listening to a melody that had been old even in Hannah’s time. The world outside was indeed harsh; but right now, in this patched and rebuilt pre-war house in Sanctuary Hills, it was perfect.
Companions react to getting a forehead kiss after sole helps patch them up?
Cait:
"Tease.."
•You best better not try this if you haven't at least developed a decent bond with her, otherwise she'll just flinch away from you and give you the stink eye.
•Nonetheless, provided the two of you are good friends (if not more)- she'll just make little jokes to distract from her newfound awkwardness.
•She's never had anyone help her with her wounds, much less "kiss the pain away."
Curie:
"How sweet...now, have you sustained any injuries that need attention?"
•Despite sounding dismissive, Curie doesn't mind the kiss at all. It's innocent and quite sweet. It's also probably the first time she really blushes, like we're talking one of those super noticeable, terribly warm kind of blushes.
•However she just doesn't know what to do or say in this situation, even though words aren't necessary at all...
Danse:
"That's one method of field aid I haven't seen before..."
•Danse freezes on spot, even if only for a few seconds. He never has been the best at reviewing affection, and you doing this only highlights how much he truly craves it.
•Will probably try his best to change the subject quickly thereafter- even if it means randomly droning on about your mission details for the next day.
•There's a good chance he'll awkwardly attempt to reciprocate the action the next time he has to dress your wounds...but knowing Danse, he'll probably chicken out and leave you hanging.
Deacon:
"Great, now I've got cooties.."
•The only thing he can think of to do is put up those damn near impenetrable walls of his.
•He secretly enjoys the attention, but it scares him when he notices the way he desires for you to kiss him once more. As such, mood ruining is the best way to ignore it.
•It may seem mean, but he might not let you tend to his injuries for a while after this incident.
Hancock:
"Better than med-ex, sunshine."
•Hancock is probably the best suited on the list to casually receive and accept affection like this.
•The ghoul would just smile, recline back on whatever crappy makeshift bed you were tending to him on before playfully placing his tricorn hat on your head.
•You bet you sweet ass that whenever you get hurt next, he's kissing the wound AND your forehead.
Gage:
"Don't kiss me unless you plan on doing it right."
•Gage is usually pretty intolerant of what he would refer to as "sissy shit" like this, but for some reason he couldn't help but grin when you- his big bad overboss- kissed his forehead.
•What? He still wasn't going to admit that he completely liked the gesture.
•As such, Gage would just make that stupid joke with an even stupider smug look in his good eye.
Macready:
"...Sorry..you, you've got me thinking of Duncan..I, I uh- used to kiss his bandages when he was littler...I'm sorry about that, just give me a second boss..."
•Doing this incites a very unexpected response...Mac will actually start tearing up, unable to stop the flood of memories rushing to him.
•Even stranger, he'll pull you into a hug with no regard for his injuries and just sigh, trying to fight off the tears from falling down his cheeks.
•He won't speak of this ever again.
Maxson:
"Thank you..I mean it, (y/n)."
•In a strange way, Maxson is a lot like Cait in the respect that he hasn't really ever experienced such sweet, tender affection. Sure, unlike Cait, Arthur had a suitable group of people that cared for him..but none did anything like this.
•Regardless, Arthur would probably appear strangely vulnerable as he thanked you- maybe even going as far as to clasp you on the shoulder before returning to business as usual.
Nick:
"You're too kind."
•Right next to Hancock in the "I can actually accept affection" club, only he has no idea how you're able to kiss him after literally putting him back together with tools and the whole nine yards.
•Nonetheless, Nick appreciates the gesture and will proceed to offer a cigarette (if you smoke) or just give you a good old fashioned pay on the back.
Piper:
"Woah there blue, you aren't gonna convince me that kisses will make the ouchies better. Nat spoiled that, haha.."
•She's the official leader of "I'm uncomfy so I'll say something dumb" club.
•It isn't necessarily you kissing her that made her feel weird, it's more or less that the action instantly reminds her of Nat and her Mom (of all people). So she understandably is a little perturbed.
Preston:
"Heh, I appreciate it General."
•Preston can't help but smile ear to ear after you finish up, maybe even blushing a little as he expresses his gratitude.
•Through all the crap he has been through, little gestures like this make him feel the slightest bit better- so he holds on and savors the moment as long as he possibly can.
X6-88:
"Why did you just do that?"
•Pure confusion.
•You don't think they actually do this kinds of stuff back in The Institute, right? Because newsflash, they in fact, do not.
•You dressing his wounds was already a beautifully foreign concept to him- but the kiss? Atom have mercy on his soul.
SS is helping Nick with a case he is working on (Maybe a missing persons)
They are very close "friends"
𝓜𝔂 𝓑𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝓛𝓪𝓭𝔂
Pairing: Fem!Sole Survivor/Nick Valentine
Word Count: 1167
Warnings: Kidnapping, missing persons case, mentions of blood and yelling, hints towards physical violence, non-canon case
A/N: This is my first time writing anything for the Fallout universe and I hope it's good enough :') (the divider I'm using is one with the Vault-tec symbol and I just took the png from google and duplicated it in paint lmao you're free to use if you wish)
“Y/N, how do you know this lead is any good?” Nick questions. We’ve been on a missing persons case for a week now and we hit a dead end until one of my sources from the wasteland gave me insight on what could be happening. “I told you Nick, just trust me on this and we’ll get the woman back to her family, okay?” I stop for a moment and place my hand on his shoulder, “We’ll find her Nicky.” He sighs and nods, giving me a gentle smile before we keep heading to the building that stands before us.
The building is dilapidated, falling apart even as we walk through the broken glass of the door, the stench of rotting and fresh meat and blood invades my senses. This lead may be more dangerous than I anticipated. I pull out my Plasma Rifle and start to survey the area, Nick following my lead and drawing his Western Revolver. “Now Doll, I do trust you, don’t get me wrong, but did you just lead us to a nest of Super Mutants?” pipes up my partner in a hushed voice, “Well, Nicky, I didn’t really think this is what my contact had in mind for where the girl might be.” I reply through gritted teeth, not wanting to risk being loud and being spotted.
•
We spend a good hour surveying the area, taking down about 5 of the brutes before we find the group, the boss sitting upon a meat throne, his followers around him snacking on food, and the woman. She’s up in a cage, bleeding but not so much that she’s anywhere close to dying. For now.
“And what do we have here? More puny humans for me? Gutsoul deserves more blood.” Booms the loud voice of the mutant, oddly well spoken for someone of his type. No wonder he’s the leader I suppose. “We’re just here to get the woman ‘Gutsoul’. We get the girl, and we won’t kill you. Simple.” I say, standing my ground on the subject. Nick is close behind me, a hand hovering on the small of my back, still holding his revolver in the other, leaning down slightly to whisper in my ear, “Doll, it’s not smart to rile up a mutant, you know that right?”, “Nicky, honey, I know what I’m doing.” I retort, waiting for the mutant to respond. “Graag, grab the woman human. She’s annoying me.” Orders Gutsoul, the larger Mutant charges over to me and grabs my arms, locking them behind my body as I squirm and try to worm my way out of the grapple. Nick raises his revolver to shoot before I shake head “No” at him, needing to stay away from this fight. I won’t let him get hurt.
•
It’s been a day, maybe two since 2 of the mutants took me, leaving Nick Valentine, the best detective of the Commonwealth, to bargain with the brutes. It hasn’t been fun to say the least. While alone I think about him the most. He’s always been there for me, helped me, and the look in those yellow eyes two days ago when I was grabbed, the worry and desperation to get me back made me blush. He treats me well. He’s one of the closest people in my life at the moment, which is hard to come by in a post-apocalyptic world like this. “Food for human lady.” Says one of the two towards me, throwing a piece of stale bread towards me. Hey, it's better than irradiated mudcrab meat. Biting off the tough pieces of bread I look around the cage I’m in, trying to find an exit, a broken pipe I can use to attack the two before me. They look like the weakest, it’s why they’re stationed here to look after me.
I’m still trying to find a way out before I hear yelling and gunfire. The two watching me go to see the situation. Dammit Nick. “You get out, run back to Diamond City!” I hear the Synth yell. Probably towards that woman. What the fuck did he do? “Doll! Doll!? Where are you?” A small, sad smile appears on my face. “I’m here Nicky! I’m stuck in this stupid cage, they took all my shit.” And they had, I was only in my singlet and underwear when Nick came to help me. “Fuck Doll. That’s one shiner.” He points to my face before starting to lockpick the cage open. He hugs me once the door is open. He’s warm.
He puts his coat over my shoulders before we go to find my things. He’s rushing around. Frantic almost. “Hey Nicky, Nick, slow down.” I say softly, reaching my hand out towards his shoulder, his white dress shirt slightly unbuttoned down the front, his slacks have blood on them and his hat is slightly shifted on his head. “Doll, I coulda lost ya. If I weren’t fast enough I coulda…” He trails off. “Hey, hey, I survived a nuclear blast, albeit in a bunker and frozen but, if I could survive that, I’ll survive anything. I’ll always come back to you.” He hugs me again. So, so tightly. Almost too tightly, this synth is stronger than he thinks. “Don’t you ever leave again Y/N.” He looks into my eyes and I can’t help but smile. This man is too good for anyone.
•
Once we arrived back at Diamond City, the young woman was there at Nick’s detective agency, thanking him profusely for his help in saving her. I smirk watching the scene unfold and start looking at files of other cases we could take after a small break. “And I was wondering, Detective, if we could go on a date, I’ll show you a good time, for all the help you gave me.” the woman says to him, very seductively. You wouldn’t have thought she spent almost 2 weeks with super mutants. She plays with the collar of his coat before he says, very flustered, “Oh uh, that’s sweet of ya Dollface but I don’t date previous clients. Just how I do the job.” I giggle to myself, listening to him. That’s a lie, I think so myself. She tries again with her advances before I finally save him from the awkward encounter. “Hey Nicky, what about this case? Missing daughter, she’s only 12. We should get a start on it soon.” I yell towards him, still looking at the file. It’s empty, but the woman doesn’t know that. “Alright Doll, I’m coming. You’re welcome for the help kid.” He then walks towards me and the woman leaves with almost a huff. Nick places a hand on the small of my back and I rest my head back onto his shoulder. “You still got it Nicky, get any pretty lady on your case.” I smirk, looking up towards him. “I’ve already got the best lady.” He replies before placing a soft kiss on my forehead.
Hey dude! Thank you for requesting something T-T
I hope I did okay and that you like it! Let me know if there are any mistakes in it at all and I'll fix it up <3
Enjoy!!
