#robert joseph macready

[madman-of-amargosa]

I do believe this man is trying to distract me from my settlement building.

[starrypawz]

Post-coital (cuddling prompts)

Affectionate Moments

Hispulse was still hammering in his ears as his body slowly, slowlystarted coming back to reality. MacCready blinked a few times, thesensation of his hands brushing the mattress doing something toground him.

“Youalright?”

Heflicked his tongue against his lip, “Yeah...” He managed slowly,then grinned, “Better than alright,”

Hewent to move and was reminded that his trousers were still around hiships, in just the right awkward spot to almost prevent him frommoving. Part of him wanted to simply pull his trousers back up, getdressed and move on. That was the routine, that was safe. 

That’swhat’d happened the last few times he’d ended up in bed withsomeone. Those moments hadn’t been…bad. They’d both gottensomething out of it, that was the main thing right?

He’dbe perfectly fine if he had to leave right now, but he didn’t wantto. He wanted more. If she was game for another round that’d benice but what he wanted he needed…

Hefelt Max’s palm on his shoulder, and he tensed up at just how muchthat seemed to make his skin prickle and how much he wanted to sinkinto that touch. It was almost pathetic. 

He caught his lip.

Heheard Max chuckle at him, Her palm now tracing down his side and hetensed his hand trying not to betray how much he apparently cravedthat touch. That was what he needed, touch, the feeling of anotherbody pressed against him. If she put a hand into his hair he’d diea happy man.

“Heyyou,”

“Hmm?”

“Getover here,”

“What?”

“Don’ttell me you’re not a cuddler,”

MacCreadycaught his lip, and then shrugged, “I’m not gonna complain if youwant to,”

Maxgave a snort that he had a feeling was a sign she knew he was full ofBrahmin shit  but she patted the bed. And well what else could he doother than slip into that spot beside her.

“Good,”Max grinned, and he found himself tracing lines between a smallscattering of freckles over her shoulders. And then he felt her handslip into his hair and he couldn’t hold back on the soft sigh aswell as he wanted, “Damn you’re needy,”

[madman-of-amargosa]

A nifty looking shot of a radstorm at County Crossing.

[imaginemaccready]

anyways here’s the dumpster fire I promise there’s an actual plot

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This is no dumpster fire, this is wonderful!! Def bookmark worthy! I’ll be keeping an eye on it ^^ Thank you for the submission! 

[nomette]

trust don’t come easy/ real love love don’t go quiet (MacCready/SS)

2X DOUBLE UPDATE COMBO!

“Wouldn’t that be a sight?” Leigh said. “The two of us dead on the floor of a shitty hotel. Like one of those old pulp novels.” He leaned in, careless of the gun jammed against his stomach, and MacCready tilted his neck up against the scrape of the knife to kiss him. The kiss was soft and unhurried and despite everything MacCready felt the hot scrape of desire in his stomach.

Love was an addiction, a physical thing as much as a mental one. Little, unimportant things, like the smell of someone’s skin, became maddening. He could hold himself apart in his head, but his body- his skin ached with warmth, his breath quickened, and it took all his effort to keep his knees steady and not relax into Leigh’s arms. All this, from a simple brush of Leigh’s lips against his own. It was like hunger, and worse than hunger. MacCready had twenty years of experience being hungry, and only two weeks of lying alone on his bedroll and trying not to feel cold without Leigh’s arm draped over his stomach.

“No,” he said against Leigh’s lips, and pulled away.

 Chapter 6 of Shot Through the Head, trust don’t come easy, is here on Ao3. 

Leigh surfaced from the slog of Kellogg’s memory with a headache and a dry mouth.

“You’ve been under for almost a day,” Amari informed him.

“Shit,” said Leigh. It hurt to talk. He chugged down a container of dirty water and raced off to the Rexford. The last few steps towards the hotel door felt like getting ready to airdrop out of a copter into a hot zone, anticipation mixed in with dread. The knock on the door had the same vertiginous sensation as a drop, terror mixed in with relief. Wherever this was going, the final descent had begun at last, and Leigh would be free one way or another soon. He gripped the doorknob and opened the door slowly.

MacCready was standing against the far wall, a pistol pointed at Leigh’s face. He looked awful, which was to say that he looked more or less like he usually did. It hurt to look at the hard expression on his face and the unwavering way he held his gun. Leigh had thought, despite the all the evidence to the contrary, that MacCready was sweet. That MacCready didn’t really have it in him to shoot Leigh. But the cold-eyed person in front of him had come to this meeting ready to kill.

Chapter 2 of Safe Distance, real love don’t go quiet, is here on Ao3.

[khirsahle]

Fic update: Chantilly Lace

Title: Chantilly Lace Part: 10 Fandom: Fallout 4 Pairing: FSS/MacCready Genre: PWP and character study Summary: In the lean years before the war, she posed for the occasional dirty mag to make ends meet. She never expected any of those pin-ups to survive the end of the world….or end up in the hands of the mouthiest sniper she’s ever met. This Chapter: They return to Sanctuary and Ava visits the old grave-site. NEW SCENE READ FROM THE BEGINNING

[khirsahle]

Hellooooo so if you're still taking requests for the affectionate moments meme can I request SS/MacCready with #6? (Loving all the Deacon stuff that's happening on your blog btw :P)

So, even though it barely comes up, this is part of my OT3 Sole/MacCready/Deacon ‘verse.

He’s aware of pain first.

No. No, that isn’t quite right: he’s aware of the smell first. Sharp and thick, like rusted metal. When he blindly turns his face, it just gets stronger, and he coughs against the way it clogs his throat.

Coughing, it turns out, isn’t such a great idea. That just makes his breath wheeze and blood bubble up against his lips and…Christ, this is bad. He hasn’t even opened his eyes yet and he knows it’s bad.

“Craaaaaaap,” MacCready wheezes, wincing at how weak he sounds. And that is when the pain hits him, blazing hot across his side and radiating down to his gut. Which is just, just…great. Just great. “Crap, crap, crap…” He lifts a hand to his stomach and winces again at the sticky heat of blood. And, because it’s now or never and Duncan would seriously understand: “…shit.”

“Hey.” He’s aware of movement—leather scuffing against concrete—and a warm breath against his face. Soft, capable hands cup his cheeks, and MacCready opens his (oof, heavy) eyes because he can’t just lay here and not look at her.

There’s blood flecked across her cheeks and a cut zig-zagging into her hairline. Her brows are knit in furious concentration. He tries to smile up at her, but there’s fucking blood on his teeth, so he’s not sure how reassuring it is. “Hey back,” MacCready croaks anyway. “Did anyone get the, uh, number on that bus? Because ow.”

She lets out a hiccupping laugh, thumbs brushing across his cheeks. “Oh God,” she says. “Please stop hanging out with Deacon; neither of you is funny. Hold still,” she adds before pulling back. He can hear her fumbling with the medkit she keeps strapped to her hip.

“I’ll…have you know we are…freaking hysterical,” MacCready manages. He’s feeling woozy, dangerously light-headed, and he wonders whether he managed to snipe the asshole who tagged him or whether she did the honors for him. Whatever, he knows without asking that the Raider is bits of fleshy confetti strewn across the pavement; his lady takes revenge the way the Commonwealth takes its coffee—black and strong and bitter and…sludgey?

Shit. He’s drifting.

“Might,” he gasps, holding onto his guts. “Might wanna…hurry. Or. Might not. Depends on whether…you fancy a new…”

“A new fancy lad?” she finishes for him, smoothly sliding the needle into his neck. MacCready jolts at the rush of stims, closing his eyes against the way they light his body up like he’s been plugged with a fusion core. She barely waits for the first rush to subside before she’s sticking him again. “Nah. I’ve barely finished breaking in the ones I have.”

He lets out a huffing breath. He can already feel the pain receding, hole in his gut beginning to close. He hopes like hell the bullets went all the way through; he carries enough shit around as it is. “Now ain’t that the truth.”

“Hey, MacCready.”

MacCready tips his chin, looking up to meet her eyes again. She’s leaning over him, third stim in her hands, eyes bright with emotions that make his heart rev and turn over like an old world car. Christ, this woman; she gets him every time. “Yeah?” he manages when it’s clear she’s waiting for something.

She hits him with the third stimpack even as she leans in, brushing their mouths together. The kiss is soft and sweet, underlain by a welling rush of rage and relief.

Yeah, baby, he thinks, reaching up to touch her dark braid. He kisses back with all the breathless reassurance he can. Yeah, I know.

[khirsahle]

Fic update: Chantilly Lace

Title: Chantilly Lace Part: 5 Fandom: Fallout 4 Pairing: FSS/MacCready Genre: PWP and character study Summary: In the lean years before the war, she posed for the occasional dirty mag to make ends meet. She never expected any of those pin-ups to survive the end of the world….or end up in the hands of the mouthiest sniper she’s ever met. NEW SCENE READ FROM THE BEGINNING