Tagging @fasterpuddytat, @sociallyacceptablemadness, @the-desert-dancer, @thealexmachina, @ir0n-angel, @pikapeppa and @schoute. No pressure.
Concept: Reshare an old work of yours, be it art or fic.
Having a conversation with my beloved @ir0n-angel yesterday made me remember how much I loved writing this fic, even when I got into the weeds with it. Some of you only know me as a purveyor of elf smut, or maybe of turian smut.
I used to write ghoul smut.
From Set to Repeat, Subject to Change:
Hancock was slouched on the sofa facing the red velvet one Val had brought home so many years ago. There were memories there that ached, although not as much as they used to. He didn’t know how long he sat there staring at it but when he came back to himself, she was sitting on it, a crooked smile on her lips, her chin balanced on her hand.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi. Been there long?” He patted himself down looking for his smokes and finally found them on the coffee table.
“About five minutes,” she sniggered. “Good hit?”
“Musta been. Fuck me, what time is it?” He lit up and offered her the pack but she shook her head. When did she quit smoking?
“It’s a little after three.”
“Man, I…” He trailed off, completely losing track of what he was going to say.
She chuckled. “I’d ask if you had a minute for me Mr. Mayor, but you seem to have had quite a few already.”
(under the cut for some Hancock typical drug use)
“You need somethin’?” He opened a tin of Mentats and popped one in his mouth. When he offered them she again shook her head. She never did like taking a whole lot of chems, he remembered. The grape taste mixed with his cigarette and a pleasant mind expanding feeling settled over him, making him more alert. Not by much, but enough.
“Just wanted to…talk.”
“So…talk,” he waved a hand expansively and grinned. She was perched there so primly, as if she didn’t want to sit there but didn’t want to sit anywhere else even more. His mind’s eye painted a memory of her sprawled on that cozy red sofa wearing only his hat. It flashed and was gone.
Damned Mentats, he thought. Always making things so clear. Too clear.
“Would you happen to know if there are any maps around here from other parts of the country?”
“Huh?” She snapped her fingers, bringing his attention back to her.
“Maps, Hancock. Of like, New York.”
“I think we moved all that stuff to…”
“To the Castle,” she finished when he stopped. She nodded decisively. “Well, I guess that will work out since we’ll have to go there anyway. I want to take Mac back there to recuperate.”
“Can he travel that far?”
“I think if we go by wagon he’ll be fine. And between us, if we can’t guard a single beat up merc then we deserve what we get.” She paused and looked like she was collecting herself. Through the haze of smoke and his own heightened senses from the chems he thought she looked nervous. It was almost funny; Val nervous was something he hadn’t seen in twelve years. “Were you…uh…planning to come along?”
“You want me to?”
“I…yeah, I do.” She twisted her hands together and wouldn’t meet his eye. There was something she wasn’t saying. He sat up and stubbed out his cigarette. He went over to her and plopped down next to her. If anything she grew more nervous. He had to admit he was enjoying it a bit. Sort of like when they first knew each other, before recrimination and guilt and rancor killed what they had. When it was new, when he still got a thrill in his gut whenever he saw her.
Who are you kidding, you still do, he chided himself.
“Val…what’s on your mind?” She faced him, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear, showing him that scar clearly. With a lazy finger he traced it gently. She got very still and almost blank, like she hadn’t expected it but didn’t want to appear startled.
“Hancock, there’s some stuff I need to tell you…” She sort of stuttered to a stop, her face crumpling up for just a second before it smoothed out again. “Fuck it,” she said then and leaned forward into his touch.
He drew her closer and kissed her. It wasn’t like before, rough and angry. No, this was passion, pure and simple. She moaned into his mouth and pushed him back until she could climb on top of him. His arms came around her as they had a hundred times before. He pulled up the tucked in hem of her shirt so he could get at her skin. She was smooth and warm under his fingertips. When she finally pulled away from the kiss her eyes were glazed.
“I still want you,” she murmured. “I never stopped.”
“I know,” he murmured back.
“I still love you,” she said but it sounded pained, as if she’d tried to forget it, or maybe move past it. “No matter what happens, John, know that. Know that I have always loved you.”
“Oh, Sunshine…”
“Shh, just kiss me again.”
“I’m gonna do more than that,” he promised. She smiled, sadly but there.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 42/42
Fandom: Fallout 4, Fallout 3
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: John Hancock/Female Sole Survivor, Charon (Fallout)/Female Sole Survivor, Male Lone Wanderer&Female Sole Survivor, Sturges/Male Lone Wanderer
Characters: Preston Garvey, Nick Valentine, Brotherhood of Steel Character(s), Minutemen Character(s), A lot of ghouls, Robert Joseph MacCready, Sturges (Fallout), A Lot of NPC's, From both games, A few OC's
Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, Swearing, Chem and Alcohol Use, POV Multiple, Family Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Major Character Injury, right at the end, Angst with a Happy Ending
Summary:
Ten years after the SoSu walks out on Hancock, and the Commonwealth, she's back in town with some new (old) friends. There's another problem knocking on her door and it's going to hit close to home for all of them. Will history repeat itself or can she make it right this time?
NSFW chapters are marked.
COMPLETE!
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Now complete, with a fresh epilogue after six and a half years.
