thefalloutsideblog

[thefalloutsideblog]

Any romance headcanons for Follows-Chalk and Fem Courier?

Follows-Chalk always wanted to learn guitar ever since Lonesome Drifter played for the Dead Horses. So, when the Courier found a mostly undamaged guitar, she knew she had to give it to him, and Follows Chalk was ecstatic He tries to learn as much as he can about playing it, and one he learns a few songs, he plays for the Courier.

Follows-Chalk isn’t a bold one in the relationship, so the Courier has to be the one to initiate most romantic things. Once he gets used to it and feels more comfortable with her, he’s basically a love bug. He’s always wanting to hold hands, likes giving kisses on the the cheek and forehead (the forehead is his favorite to kiss and be kissed on), and many other small romantic things.

The Courier basically starts a collection with all the gifts Follows-Chalk gives her. He likes to find little unique trinkets and gives it to her. He says it “reminded him of her” or “thought she would like it” or something of that nature whenever he gives them to her.

[thefalloutsideblog]

I crossed the rope bridge, careful not to break any of the boards and join the fallen White Legs ambusher on the shore of the water below. As I reached the other side, and finally let myself relax.

Then, I heard a shout from the top of the hill to my left, "You, caravan man, stop!" I groaned and looked over. It was another one of the White Legs, pointing a gun at me. I raised my hands, I was cornered. Then, I noticed something move behind him. He laughed and said something I didn't understand, not being well versed in the languages of the Salt Lake, but I assumed he was gloating. A young man with a painted face stood up behind him, readying his pistol in a club grip, the magazine well empty. As the White Leg laughed again, he whacked him over the head with the pistol, knocking him unconscious. He swiftly picked up the White Leg's gun and shot him once in the head before returning the magazine to his own pistol, and the whole thing to a holster on his hip.

The young man stood up straight and looked at me, seeming to try and think of what to say as I slowly put my hands down and he got a better look at me. His voice had the softness of youth about it, despite the act of seasoned violence he had just pulled off, he spoke in Pomo. I recognized what he was saying, but it was clearly not a dialect he was overly familiar with, "Chiin tha eh?" The greeting was a question, but I could tell he wasn't sure he was pronouncing it right, it sounded like he was only guessing at a language I'd understand. I replied in Spanish, I knew enough Pomo to understand, but both of us communicating this way wouldn't be ideal, "Yo hablo eso, pero ¿hablas español? Podría ser más fácil." He smiled and nodded, "Sí. ¿Hablas inglés?" I nodded, "English is fine."

I winced and grabbed the pain in my side and started walking toward him now I knew he was friendly. He said, "You're some kind of lucky, let me tell you. White Legs don't leave survivors often." I shrugged best I could in my condition, "Eh, I'm tougher than most." I sat down at the top of the hill and untied a satchel of healing powder. I pulled up my shirt and began dabbing the mixture on my wounds from the various dives I'd taken. The young man approached where I was sitting, "I'm a scout with the Dead Horses, they call me Follows-Chalk. We're allies of the Sorrows, who live in the valley here. The White Legs were giving them trouble, so we thought we'd help. Are you okay?" I nodded, pulling my shirt back down, "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. One too many tumbles for one morning is all. Follows-Chalk, that's an odd name. Not too familiar with the local tribes, is that normal?"

He took a seat next to me as the rain began to let up, "No, it's just a title, I'm new to scouting. We're a bit private with strangers, hope you don't mind. You know Pomo, but closer up you don't look much like a part of the tribe, what's that about?" I leaned back to catch my breath, "Grew up in that area around Chico, related to the tribe through some aunt who got married and I picked it up in time. You can call me Will. Guess I'm out of a job for now, at least until I can get back to the Mojave and get in contact with Happy Trails." Follows-Chalk nodded, "Hm. Sorry about your friends, not much I could've done to help from here, but I could've done something." I waved it off, "Ah, don't be ridiculous, you're only one man. You also saved my life, that definitely counts for something in my book." I stood up, the sting of the healing powder wearing off, "We should get out of here before any more show up." Follows-Chalk nodded, and we both headed up the trail, hopefully toward safety.

A little ways up the trail, Follows-Chalk stopped me, "Hold up. See that log?" He pointed toward an old fallen pine log, "The scouts stash supplies in those. Might find good stuff in them, just be sure to leave something in kind, yeah?" I nodded and reached in the log, pulling out a few satchels of healing powder. In return I left behind a few cactus fruits and one of my snakebite tourniquets. I nodded to Follows-Chalk and we continued on our way.

[thefalloutsideblog]

being realistic, id choose followschalk as a bf MAYBE EVEN HUSBAND he’s just so cuteeee😆🗣 I also think he’d treat u sooo much better than vulpes by a long shot

[thefalloutsideblog]

Joshua and Daniel are both racist Mormons who infantilize the native tribes they’ve installed themselves in but man the way Daniel talks about the Sorrows makes me feel physically ill.

He takes that tone of an authoritarian white man who truly believes himself superior to another group and thus must be responsible for them. He reframes his pity and sense of superiority as sympathy and Christlike kindness. He has one line in particular about how the Sorrows have sensitive souls and are “innocent,” as though talking about helpless animals or children.

[thefalloutsideblog]

LISTENED TO THIS WHILE DRAWING THISSSSS SIGHH SIGHHHHH SIGHHHH I have this biggest crush on him what a baby iwhadksjfgajdhkf

[thefalloutsideblog]

this is going under my “the most unnecessary things i’ve ever drawn” -folder

[thefalloutsideblog]

follows-chalk is hot and im tired of the lack of porn of him

[thefalloutsideblog]

killsmyself

[thefalloutsideblog]

Been thinking about writing this for one of my courier characters (specifically the one who sides with House), but how would Raul feel about adoption? Like, him and a partner adopting a kid to raise?

I think you'll have trouble stopping Raul from adopting a child (more likely multiple children), frankly. Raul's got a soft spot for kids already, so I don't even think he would necessarily need to be in a relationship before he considered taking in a needy kid. I mean, what else does he have going on that he can't help out?

He's always been driven to protect the vulnerable, and who's more vulnerable than orphaned and abandoned children? This man would probably run a makeshift orphanage if he could figure out how to make it happen. It would also have the unexpected benefit of giving him some seriously needed direction and purpose in life (something his relationship with a partner would also help with immensely) to help combat his centuries-long battle with depression and survivor's guilt.

[thefalloutsideblog]

Hi, can I request a fallout 3? Companion reaction to the LW with good karma.

Hi, you're my first Fallout 3 request. You have no idea how happy I am to write this for my favourite companions. Thank you very much for your request. I hope you enjoy it. And sorry for my English mistakes, it's not my mother tongue…

FO3 companions react to LW with good karma:

Butch :

He's not surprised, I mean, you grew up together. You always protected Amata when he was a little shit. But he's grateful you got him out of the shelter before he really went off the deep end. Although he's very embarrassed by that. He's never really been a good person, but he's never been a bad one either. He's not a monster, just an immature young adult.

Sergent RL-3 :

A soldier has to be good, but also firm. My God this poor old robot is torn in two. Your dynamic is like the bad cop and the good cop. If he were human and could drink whiskey, he'd drink to every good deed.

Fawkes :

The one who is most proud of you, of all the companions. Seeing you protect those who can't, killing villains, or recovering children kidnapped by his brothers. That's what warms his mutant heart. He'll congratulate you, give you advice and, above all, say what he thinks about the situation and you. But if your karma goes lower and lower, he'll be disappointed but won't tell you. After a while he'll ask you if you're doing well mentally. He's afraid he hasn't seen any clues. He will stay with you for a while once the karma is bad, but will leave with a heavy heart.

Paladin Cross :

She's happy to be travelling with you, finally someone good in this world. But she doesn't say it openly, a pat on the back. Is the only thing to congratulate you. But if you have to lose your karma, secretly she will be disappointed (depending on your level of relationship with her.). But above all she'll go back to the citadel without a word and with a sad heart for having believed in Father Christmas.

Jericho :

The most hostile of them all. If he wasn't in Megaton, he'd accept a lot of capsules to put a bullet in your head. But somehow he understands that you're not witty enough to be mean.

Clover :

Compared to Jericho, she won't be too hostile towards you. She'll just be disappointed by your behaviour, believing she's found a new dictator with troubled tendencies. She'll just be bitter with you. But she'll still fall in love with you somehow.

Charon :

Charon doesn't give a fuck about your karma. But my God, it feels good not to kill women and innocent children or to put a bullet between the eyes of a simple drunken traveller for Ahzrukhal. But sometimes he's a bit scared of your kindness, he tends to prefer someone neutral or openly nasty. For him, kindness means hiding. And he doesn't want to discover your inclination if you're a fake.

Dogmeat :

This good dog doesn't care about your karma. He'll always be with you, as long as you don't mistreat him or betray his trust in you. A bone, a corpse, a fight plus a caress to congratulate him and he'll be fine. He'll be loyal to you with any kind of karma.

ᴵᵗ'ˢ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ˢᵗʳᵃⁿᵍᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ʷʳⁱᵗᵉ ᴰᵒᵍᵐᵉᵃᵗ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᶠʳᵃⁿᶜᵉ ᵐᵉᵃⁿˢ ᶜᵃⁿⁱᵍᵒᵘ.

—————————————————————

[thefalloutsideblog]

Scylla serrata metasapiens Colloquially referred to as ‘merlurks.’ The scientific name proposed is subject to change, due to the varietals of ‘Scylla serrata horrendus’ (colloquially ‘mirelurks,’) and the different strains of the Forced Evolutionary Virus (F.E.V.)

[thefalloutsideblog]

Fawkes is such a sweetheart I love him dearly but the amount of times I got stuck because his big ass took up the doorway I'm crying

[thefalloutsideblog]

fallout 3 and fallout new vegas companions trying to flirt with lone/six for the first time?

FO3 Crushing! Companions Try to Flirt with Lone for the First Time

I. Absolutely. Love. This. The mental images that this prompt inspired were just lovely 👏👏

Sorry this took like... literal years to get out 😅 I hope you like it!

Fallout New Vegas is on the way as well, so look out for that... eventually :)

Butch:

He’d flirted with them before… only, even he hadn’t really known that that’s what it was. His mom often said he liked them, and other adults commented similarly when Lone and him were kids, but he’d always made disgusted faces, retching noises or flipped the people off that tried to tell him he liked Lone. Of all people, Lone?! No, not Butch. He bullied them, he disliked them, if anything. 

At least, then, that’s what he believed. Now though, Butch knew the truth, and he couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been all along. He plans to make up for lost time, to correct those little errors of his from the past. Butch has a short lifetime of flirting under his belt, and he means to put all that experience to good use. 

Just need to find the right time. Can’t do it out of the blue, not with Lone, can’t risk something like that. Has to be all romantic an’ shit…

–

“See anything you like?” Butch wiggled his eyebrows as Lone’s blurry form swam into focus. “You’re… awfully close to me, baby.” 

“Butch?” They mumbled, and he noticed that their eyes were closed. He’d thought they’d been staring at him, but their eyes were closed.

Just my luck…

“Butch, you’re awake?” Lone nearly jumped out of their seat as their blinking eyes widened in shock. “How do you feel?” 

“I feel great, baby. How’re you?” 

Their brows furrowed quickly, confusion warping their concerned features. 

“You were hurt, Butch. A car, some raiders… It exploded and you passed out, lost some blood, you… I wasn’t sure when you were going to wake up. The doctor said you might not.” 

Butch’s foggy mind began to clear, a headache began to form at the front of his skull, and the aches in his body became more and more pronounced with each word that left his companion's mouth. 

…I what? 

“Lone, only blood I loss was because you pierced my heart.” 

That one sounded good, right? That one should really drop the hint to ‘em. 

Butch grinned at the thought. 

“Oh, Butch…” They reached out a hand, tentatively reaching for his forehead and brushing away a few strands of hair. “You’re still coming out of it, huh? Just rest, okay?”

A new determination burned through his aching joints, his battered body. At the feel of Lone’s tender touch, at the realization of their obliviousness to his, frankly obvious, feelings, Butch tried again. 

“Can’t rest. Not now baby. Not ‘till you’re mine. Not ‘till you see it… See the way I feel.”

He tried to get up, to emphasize his point, but his arms could hardly move. The blanket that was stretched over his half-bare body felt like sandpaper over his burned and blistered flesh, and his muscles roared in painful protest at every movement. 

A groan left him at the sudden pain of it. 

“Butch, no, easy.” Lone’s hands gently encouraged him to stay down, and their eyes shone with sympathy that made his chest ache from more than his wounds. “You must be half delirious to be saying all this, but… don’t try to get up, okay? Just try and rest.” 

He wanted to listen to them, wanted to do what his partner asked, wanted to please them that way, but he needed Lone to know. 

It’s been too long. Maybe this deliriousness is what I needed. 

Shoulda tried this earlier.

“Lone, no. You gotta understand-”

“Butch, shh.” They laid a finger over his lips as their other hand stroked over his shoulder. “There’s time. You can tell me everything soon. I want to hear it, okay? Trust me, I do. But now, please… just rest for me. Work on healing, just for a little while. Then you can tell me how you feel.”

Butch’s eyes closed without his permission, their sweet words lulling him back to blissful unconsciousness as their hand continued it’s soothing stroking over a bit of unmarred skin on his arm.   

“And then,” He heard, just as he felt sleep wrapping him in its embrace, “Then I can tell you how I feel, too.” 

The last thing he could recall was a simple touch. In reality, it was faint, but to Butch, their lips upon his forehead felt like a heavy crash, an avalanche of weight poured over him that left nothing in its wake but the possibilities. For his future, and for theirs. 

Charon:

“Wait.” A large, calloused hand grasped at Lone’s shoulder as they made a move to step out from behind the pillar. “I’ll go first.” Charon’s rough voice sounded close to their ear as his hand stayed firmly on them, encouraging their form to move back behind cover once more.

“Why? Did you hear something?”

Charon paused at his companion’s inquiry. Did they think it was odd that he took precautions? That was his job, wasn’t it? It was in his contract...

But we both know I don’t always follow every little rule the paper alludes to in the finer print.

The ghoul cleared his throat, retracting his hand from Lone’s shoulder as he moved to step in front of them, pointedly avoiding their gaze as he thought through what he should say.

Charon didn’t ever recall being so concerned for his employer’s safety before. In fact, it was more likely he would do the bare minimum that was required to keep them from being blown to bits or falling off a cliff than it was for him to go out of his way to ensure their safety of his own accord. He had to follow orders, had to step in harm’s way, should it suddenly become clear to him that they would be injured or killed if he didn’t do so, and… That was it. The contract never mentioned the careful thought process he now went through each time the pair entered into a potentially dangerous situation. Nowhere in the paper did it say that his heart would need to flutter with anxiety when his companion was in danger, or that his body should flush with the heat of anger when a bullet did happen to graze them. The contract never told him to remain up all through the night, poised and ready for an unexpected attack, or lie awake in Lone’s dim room, his mind fraught with worry for the next day.

Yet, here he was. Doing all of that. When the hell had all this happened?

Charon tried to convince himself that it was only due to Lone’s kindness, to their low-maintenance in comparison to the likes of his previous employers. He tried to tell himself that the only reason he didn’t want them dead was because then he’d be saddled with some other asshole he had to answer to, but Charon knew deep down that that was bullshit. Even when his employers had been bearable, he’d never felt this strongly for them.

A moment of silence passed before Charon finally fixed his companion with his intense, icy gaze.

“No.” He said simply, “I didn’t hear anything.”

Their eyebrows scrunched together and Charon saw the question forming in their mind. Before they could even voice it, he replied.

“I just want to keep you safe.”

Clover:

“Sugar, you know I mean it when I tell you you look good, right?”

Clover always flirted, it was more of a personality trait than a conscious action at this point. It was just the way she was, the way she had been told to be, made to be for so many years that it just became a part of her. Now was different though, she always flirted without realizing it, but now… Well, she actively wanted to, and of course, of course Lone would be impervious to it. Did they really not notice? They almost seemed to ignore her little compliments, her teasing words and forward touches, and Clover does not like being ignored under any circumstance.

Finally, one day, she'd been driven to confront her companion about it.

“What’s your problem, huh? What’ve you got against me?” Clover finally burst out after the umpteenth time she’d said something sickly sweet that they’d just completely brushed off like a dead leaf on their jacket.

Look, she’d tried being subtle, she’d tried being low-key as much as the ex-slave could be, then she’d gotten more aggressive with her verbal affections, she’d gotten more direct with her lingering touches and her suggestive comments, but Sole seemed to just laugh off all of it, or worse, they’d pretend as if she didn’t do anything at all.

Clover was over it.

“Is it the way I look, huh?" She held her arms out wide, and Lone shrank back in response. "Is it cuz of my past, then? What, I been with too many folks for you to handle? What?”

“Clove,” Lone looked down at the floor in… what, embarrassment? Shame? It was hard to tell. “I didn’t realize–” 

“No, you look at me, sweetheart. Look me in the eye as you tell me what I don’t wanna hear.” 

“I didn’t want to take advantage of you, is all” Their gaze was sympathetic as it met her sizzling expression. 

“What?” 

“It’s like you said, about your past… I wasn’t sure if you, well, how you felt about me at all. Not when, your whole life, you’ve been forced to try and attract everyone around you, to be suggestive and touchy and I didn’t just want to be another asshole that only sees you as a piece of meat.” 

They wrung their hands with their confession, but their eyes stayed locked to hers, just like she'd asked. 

“Because I don’t. I… I like you, Clove.”

“You… Honest? You really do?” She took a step closer, her expression vastly changed from the flared nostrils and low brows she’d had before. Elation hung behind a thin curtain of disbelief. 

“Well, yeah. I just… Didn’t want you to think that’s why I bought your– well, you."

The word sounded so hollow, and Clover felt it like a pang in her chest. It wasn't often that she let her past hurt her this way. That wasn't a trend she could afford to start, but seeing the way it pained Lone to speak about...

"You don’t owe me anything." They continued somberly, "It’s as I said before, you’re free to go, if that’s what you want–”

“It’s not, sugar.” Clover shook her head as a poorly contained smile tugged at her full lips, as her hands went to either side of Lone's face, her thumbs brushing over their cheeks. “As I’ve been tryin’ to tell ya all this time… I want you.” 

She couldn't help all the flirting she did, both before, and after their conversation. Her past also made it hard for her to know which feelings of hers were truly real, as opposed to ones put in place in order to defend herself. Clover's still working all of that out, but just knowing... Understanding Lone's point of view, and hearing the genuine words leave them... It made the process of falling for someone easier than it's ever been before.

Cross:

“A very good shot. You must have exemplary eyesight, ma’am/sir.”

The action of flirting never came naturally to the Paladin. Obviously it wasn't high on her priority list when it came to skills she sought to perfect. If it were, her proficiency in other areas, with focuses on survival and combat prowess, surely would've suffered. But at this rate, she wished she could've had at least some form of training in the subtle art of wooing someone. Not just any someone, but Lone. Her companion, her friend, someone not in the Brotherhood, someone who wouldn't cause her to break decorum if she were to be with them.

It was a strange sensation, knowing that she had feelings for Lone. She was rarely certain about these things, and she almost never caught feelings for anyone. Maintaining distance from those around you, remaining indifferent to people you spend inordinate amounts of time with, it's a burden every soldier had to bear if they hope to defend their hearts and minds from the brutality of sudden and bitter loss. And yet, here she was, catching feelings for a civilian.

Perfect.

Cross tried to ignore it for ages, but it only seemed to become more obvious the more she attempted to conceal it. She would stumble over her words, blush more, become embarrassed about certain uncivilized things soldiers shouldn't think twice about. Why did she have such a hard time asking Lone to halt when she has to… relieve herself? She's a damn Star Paladin for Christ's sake, taking a ten-one shouldn't effect her in such a way.

In the end, she would find herself utterly unable to keep from at least complimenting her companion on their combat skills, their abilities as a diplomat that she so admired, their compassion towards others, and even their athletic physique. Is it really flirting? Hopefully Lone thinks so, because this as much as the Paladin can seem to muster in the ways of wooing.

Fawkes:

“You are a good companion, and an even better friend. I am beyond fortunate to have you in my life, and if ever there is anything you need, I will be here.”

Fawkes isn't quite sure what all of these feelings mean. The way his stomach tingles, a smile involuntarily crinkles his eyes, how he feels so warm inside when he looks at his companion. Is it friendship? Friendship is strong, and he felt strongly towards Lone, that, he knew.

When it comes down to it, Fawkes has no idea what he's doing as he relentlessly compliments this incredible person beside him. He's simply honest with his companion. Fawkes thinks they're the bravest person he's met, they have a good sense of humor, a kind heart, and they gave him a chance when no one else would even think to. He's proud to call Lone his friend, and he doesn't hesitate to let everyone know.

The day he finds out that it's more than friendship that he feels for his companion, Fawkes becomes, well... quite shy. Though, he'd never want to waver in his compliments, as he believes in being genuine and would never feel embarrassed about telling Lone the truth, he'd be more careful with his word choice, and the comments would be less frequent. As he continues his assault of kind words, praise, and appreciation for his companion; he would be planning his confession to them. Lone deserved to know the way he felt, even if they didn't feel the same. He just had to tell them, because, if they did feel the same? It would change his whole world for the better.

Jericho:

"Fuck, kid. You're crazier than I am, heh."

No form of praise is light praise, when it comes to Jericho. The ex-raider has a sorta allergy to compliments, especially the genuine kind, but Lone, he likes.

So what if he tells 'em that they're nuts enough to run with him? He can eye them up when they make a great shot, or tell them they're a badass when they make some shit explode, check out their ass in those tight road leathers they like to wear. That doesn't mean nothing.

He's too old for any of that shit, anyway. No, Jericho outgrew the ability to have feelings for anyone when he was about 10 years old. An' his conquests back in his raider days had left him full enough for two lifetimes in terms of companionship.

Nah, Lone was just... They were alright. The first 'alright' vault dweller he's ever met, and the first person in ages that didn't make him wanna set off that bomb in Megaton's center and give them all a little peace.

It wasn't 'till his actions started reflecting those little glimpses of... whatever the fuck was going on with Lone, that he even realized he was acting out of character.

Sure, sharing ammunition and helping 'em scavenge enough scraps to fix up their armor, sewing up a wound while they gritted their teeth, and swapping food stores wasn't anything groundbreaking, but... Well, he's never done any of that shit with past traveling companions. Hell, he more so wished his past companions’ armor would fail so he could loot their corpse when they dropped, that they wouldn't notice the ammo he swiped from their pack at night, that their wound would fester and he could have a few more caps in his pocket when they didn't wake up from fevered sleep.

With Lone though... it went even further. Giving them first dibs on loot, offering to carry more of their shit, so they could have a lighter load, sharing a fucking cigarette with 'em. That shit was strange.

Cigs are like straight fucking gold to the ex-raider, and yet...

Shit...

Look, they wanna run with an old raider like him, Lone has gotta be the one to say it, to admit any feelings. But those actions of his? That's as loud as Jericho gets with the vulnerable shit, everything else is in their hands.

[thefalloutsideblog]

Welcome to the wasteland, 19-year-old child! I guess you’ll be needing a partner in this dangerous wilderness, huh? Pick one:

Sketchy robot

Not technically a slave

Literal actual sexual predator

no this one is really a slave, yeah she’s being held against her will

Hypercompetent family friend [YOU HAVE NOT ACCRUED ENOUGH TRAUMA TO UNLOCK]

Guy you’ve known your entire life [YOU HAVE NOT ACCRUED ENOUGH TRAUMA TO UNLOCK]

Kind, helpful walking tank [YOU HAVE NOT ACCRUED ENOUGH TRAUMA TO UNLOCK]

[thefalloutsideblog]

you have to be fucking kidding me

[thefalloutsideblog]

[thefalloutsideblog]

Do you write for preston garvey? If so, something i realized about fo4 as a fem sole is that, shaun was like three months so its likely nora would still be lactating and needing a way to alleviate the pressure of milk building up. So, im thinking, preston, danse and maccready, offereing thwir services when they walk into her messaging her bare breasts. If that's something you're okay with?

I do write for Garvey, he's one of my favorites after all (Another settlement needs your help btw). You also didn't make it clear what you wanted this to be so I'll go with what I know. (Headcanons under the cut:)

Preston Garvey:

You and Preston had been through thick and thin, him saving you from ruin and you saving him from his own mental state. He knew about your troubles with your son being kidnapped and you knew about his when he was still the last Minutemen.

He knew about you having a son, that was the main reason you both paired up with each other after all pre-relationship. What he didn't know was that you retained what was going on with your body post war.

He's your rock and the inverse goes for him as well, you're his rock. So he's more than willing to help you through just about anything, no matter how embarrassing it is.

The first time Preston walked in on you trying to lessen the pain on your chest was after Ronnie Shaw opened the armory and you set up your home in the general's quarters. You've been together for a few months and have gotten intimate a few times.

He was coming to inform you about another settlement that required help only to see you sitting on your couch and massaging your breasts as milk dribbled out. Preston froze in his place when he saw this.

Now Preston wasn't a fucking idiot, he knew about the female body and that they produce milk to help sustain the new life they just popped out. What he didn't expect was you to still be lactating.

"General, I just got word from another settlement that Raiders are atta-" Preston announced as he walked into the General's Quarters. He paused when he saw you kneading your chest and some milk dribbling out.

"Is... Is this a bad time?" He asked as he used his hat to cover his eyes to give you some privacy. Preston heard you sigh and felt absolutely awful that he didn't knock...

"Yes Preston, awful timing. But I'm willing to let it slide given that you didn't know..." You muttered as you buttoned up your shirt and fixed your General Uniform. "Now, what were you saying?"

Preston flushed and sighed before replying. "Another settlement needs our help, but I can have some of the other Minutemen do that.... Is there anything I can do to help you with this?"

From that day on, Preston helped you with this issue. Every once in awhile, you'd come back from all your hard work, sore and achey. You'd sit down on his lap and unbutton your shirt, letting him do his thing.

Now Preston, our sweet boy with issues, is actually happy that he's helping you. He wants to help you because he a. Loves you and b. loves helping people. So this is great for him, so so great.

You had to tell him what to do the first few times, but he's a quick learner. He knows just what to do now and can basically help you drain yourself whenever it's needed. Pre and Post bullshit.

Paladin Danse:

(The gif is intentional, look at the Danse as Buzz mod, it's the best.)

Now Danse is a bit stupid with this. He knows about sex and pregnancies, he's not clueless. He just doesn't know a lot about post pregnancy and what goes on with the woman's body after that.

He's heard from other soldiers, soldiers who have had younger siblings or soldiers who have given birth, about how the body treats pregnancy. He's never given these comments a second thought after hearing about that though.

When Danse first found out, it was when you stopped at the Red Rocket for a day of relaxation. You are together during this and it was Post!BB. He's giving a hand around the truck stop, watering crops and fixing things up, finding his reason for living again.

Now Danse was coming back to the room you shared with him in the Office? back room of the truck stop to talk to you. Danse walked into the room and saw you facing away from the door with your shirt unbuttoned. He walked into the room without knocking.

"Soldier, I came to ask you about something." Danse announced as he walked into the room where both your beds were. He didn't mind that your shirt was open, that your boobs were out, or anything else. When he was with the BoS, you saw half naked soldiers all the time.

"A-ah.. Bad timing Danse..." You muttered as you grabbed a rag and wiped the milk from your chest, frowning at the feeling. "Give me a minute..."

"Are you alright Soldier?" He asked as he rounded the bed to look at you, a bit shocked to see some drops of milk clinging to your flesh. He knew you were pregnant and had a kid before he met you, but he didn't know you were still stuck with the lingering effects of it.

"I'm fine Danse... Just having an unfortunate morning while at war with biology..." A sigh escaped your lips as you tried to massage more milk out of you breasts, trying to reduce the discomfort lingering in your body. "So far, Biology is fucking winning...."

Danse stayed silent for a moment before getting out of his Power armor to stand at the same level as you. "I can help if you want, some soldiers exchanged tips and tricks..." He offered as he sat down next to you on your bed.

Danse knows a thing or two about this because soldiers used to speak of this all the time. He'd heard them exchanging tips, mainly breast massages and warm compresses.

He may be a fucking Synth, but he knows what he's doing. He's spent a lifetime of learning from humans unknowingly, he knows what he's doing.

He'll lay you back down on your bed, get out of his power armor, and start by massaging your chest for 15 minutes. Then he'll use a warm rag to help increase the flow of milk.

He may not be human like you are, he's still grappling with the whole thing to be honest, but he's going to help you the best he can. Danse loves you after all.

Robert J. MacReady:

You couldn't have found a better man for the job. HOLY SHIT, this man is a father, he's had a girlfriend (wife?), he's the best for things like this. Like, he's going to help you with everything he knows from his time with Lucy.

Now, setting the scene for this next part when he finds out that you're still lactating: You two are on the road and stop at the Dugout inn for the night.

He's at the bar, talking to Vadim about some road tale in exchange for some whiskey. He doesn't mind that you're buying a room, he's buying dinner and all so it's fair.

When MacCready enters the room, he sees you taking off your jacket (just pretend for this one) and sees the little wet patches on your shirt, he's a bit shocked and worried.

"Hey, I got us some grub, you hungry?" Robert asked as he closed the door behind himself, not wanting to hear any of the hustle and bustle of the bar beyond the door. When he didn't get a response, he looked over his shoulders and saw the little damp patches on your shirt.

"You alright? That doesn't seem comfortable." He pointed out as he put down the food he just bought. "Did you want a tissue or a new shirt? You can borrow one of mine if you need it, Lucy used to do the same when stuff like this happened to her..."

You nodded your head as you shifted your stance, crossing your arms over your chest as you adjusted your gaze. You didn't want to meet his eyes out of shame and embarrassment, but you didn't want to be rude for rejecting an offer you needed.

"Yeah... I could use it, if you'll let me that is..." You whispered as you sat down on the bed and unbuttoned your shirt. MacCready nodded his head and reached into his bag to get you a shirt.

"Y'know, Lucy taught me a thing or two before she left this world. I can help you out if you need it, no shame in it." MacCready said as he handed you one of his shirts.

MacCready is generally really good at this kind of thing, like really good. He knows what he's doing, he knows where to put his hands and where to massage just right to help drain things quicker. If things get uncomfortable for you, he'll let you lay your head on his lap while he works things out.

When he does help you drain your chest, MacCready and you will share stories of your children and ex spouses (Rip Lucy and Nate). You'll laugh together, you'll cry together, it's cathartic.

Robert will tell you stories about Lucy and Duncan before her death and his infection while you tell him stories of Nate and Shaun prewar. It's nice to get things out in the open

It's like a therapy session, just a bit more awkward than normal. He's trying not to make this weird but there's not a whole lot you can do to stop the awkward feeling when you're massaging a woman's chest to help her coax out breast milk and talking to her about dead/missing/sick families.

Honestly, it brings you closer. It reminds you of Nate and it reminds him of Lucy, but it also brings you both closer as two parents working overtime and two friends (maybe more in the future) who adore each other in every sense of the word.