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[kisstheburnsaway]

Since I'm still struggling with the actual requests, here's a little something to those who feel an odd affinity to Pickman, to tide y'all over.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Fallout 4, Fallout (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Pickman & Reader Characters: Reader, Pickman (Fallout) Additional Tags: Reader-Insert, Stalking, Raider Reader vs. Pickman the Raider Killer, what could possibly go wrong, with a side of a mystery, Mild Gore, Flower Symbolism, Likeable Side Characters, (I’m so sorry) Summary:

You don’t even know how or why you ended up in this Raider gang, or any Raider gang for that matter, but here you are. And when your friends are getting murdered, you’re forced to realize you’re the reason it’s all happening.

[kisstheburnsaway]

hi um. as someone who is korean i didnt find your most recent post very charming at all. some of the reactions you gave are extremely insensitive and i dont believe you have the right to use the c slur in such context, even if its supposedly a character saying it.. reading that left a bad taste in my mouth and its just weird in general seeing as you dont seem to be asian yourself? i apologize if im wrong, but still a very insensitive thing to write about as a cute little "character reacts" post, in my opinion.

Hi! I'm very sorry if it sounded insensitive. I was answering an ask which requested it, and I don't screen my asks because I think it's important that things like this (and many other things) are talked about in public and in fiction.

And yes, I am white. However, I would like to say that all the reactions and me writing the post itself were approved by my roommate who is Malaysian. Her name is Hui Lin. She shared some war stories about her struggles with racism which were an inspiration for the post. Here she is helping me with this!

(Nourishment is important during brain work. Not pictured: me out of frame holding the phone with the notebook on my lap.)

Also, for what it's worth, writing the slurs made me feel icky too. But then I got to put the racists down (one way or another...) so that felt better. And although it's definitely an unpleasant topic, I'm really proud of how it turned out.

Again, apologies it made you feel bad. I will put a couple of trigger warnings on it, and move the 'read more' to cover the first bit too. I hope that helps.

[kisstheburnsaway]

could you do a companions react to someone being racist towards an Asian sole? Like maybe calling them a communist or something

That’s an awesome request~! Thank you!

So here’s another ‘was supposed to be short’ one for ya!

Disclaimer: Because of the sheer diversity of what “Asian sole” could mean, not all of these will fit every ethnicity! (some insinuate more South or Southeast Asia issues, some play on the “Communists broke this country” bullshit and play into Fallout’s history with the Asian internment camps (see: Fallout 3), some indicate an American!Asian Sole, etc. etc.)

Please don’t hold it against me, racists are special and I can’t be as vague with this as I would usually like.

Trigger warning: Racism and racial slurs.

(I was actually surprised to find out there’s an actual Wiki page with ethnic slurs…)

Cait: 

“Cait!” they heard almost the same instant as they walked into Combat Zone. They didn’t even get to pass through the blue doors when Tommy was already all over them, shaking Sole’s hand and giving Cait a friendly pat on the shoulder. Ever since Sole had sorted out the Raiders, Combat Zone returned to what it once was: a place for people to fight for money, and for others to come, drink, and gamble; open to the general public and, apparently, thriving. Tommy himself looked much better already, gained some weight (as much as was possible for him) and it seemed like he had finally caught up on sleep.

“See?” Sole said, gesturing towards the theater full of patrons, filled with sounds of the audience’s shouts and grunting of the fighters. “You’re doing pretty well even without the Raiders, huh?”

“Right.” Tommy looked at his life’s work, making a face one makes when they lose a bet. “Had to do something, didn’t I? You didn’t leave me much choice.”

“Hey,” Sole said, putting their hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “No hard feelings, right?”

“…Right.” Tommy threw them a look. “Nah, it’s goin’ pretty well. Now I’m kinda missin’ my little bird.” He shifted his gaze to Cait, giving her a small smile as she rolled her eyes, then nudged Sole in the ribs. “Say, you got her clean, didn’t ya?”

“Aye,” Cait said before Sole could even utter a word, clearly not settling on being talked about like she wasn’t even there. “And now me head’s finally clear enough to see I’d be a sodden moron to–” She suddenly fell silent as the cheering of the finished fight died down and in the relative silence they could all clearly hear one of the guys at the registers go:

“–for these fucking Chinks, we wouldn’t be here right now. I don’t understand why we didn’t blow them all to shit when we had the chance.”

Before Sole could even open their mouth, Cait was already over there, grabbing the guy by the jaw and pulling his head out through the little window. “Say that again, you fuckin’ pig,” she growled, stance showing how ready she was to break his nose, or neck, on her knee, probably depending on his answer. “I fuckin’ dare ya.”

The man whimpered, but with the iron grip Cait had on his jaw, Sole doubted if he was able to say anything even if he wanted to. They watched the scene unravel without so much as a blink of an eye, pondering whether they actually wanted Cait to stop. It wasn’t the first time, and it was definitely not the last, that she jumped into action to defend their honor. This time, at least, there wasn’t any blood spilling… yet. God, she was making it so easy to sentence every racist asshole to death.

“Seriously?” Tommy hissed loudly to catch everyone’s attention, but not before carefully and quietly closing the door to separate them from the patrons. He walked over to the man and leant over to look him straight in the eye. “You got a bad joke ‘bout a ghoul, an Irish gal, and an Asian walkin’ into a fightin’ pit standin’ ‘fore ya, and of the three, you choose the human speakin’ perfect American English to be bitchin’ about?”

The man clearly tried to utter an “I’m sorry”, but Tommy smacked his head before he could even get a syllable out.

“Ain’t me you should be apologizin’ to, ya idiot.” He straightened up with a sigh. “You’re fired. I ever see ya again, I’m gonna put a bullet in you myself.” He brushed off his suit and looked at Cait, then at Sole. “Hey, if you want ‘im dead, can you take it outside? I got patrons, you understand, and a fight I need to announce…”

“Sure.” Sole nodded. “Who do you have lined up for it?”

“Well, if Cait ain’t gonna…”

“Take this one.” Cait pulled the guy out through the window and threw him on the floor. “Hell, I might even go in, get paid to kick his fuckin’ racist arse.”

“Uhh… Okay?” Tommy looked to Sole for a decision but they only shrugged. Traveling with Cait, they learned some time ago it was usually better not to get in her way unless necessary.

“Hear that, ya bastard?” Cait pat the guy on the cheek. “You win, you’ll even get a severance package to send ya on your merry way.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice to an ominous whisper. “But if ya lose, I will mash you into a bloody paste to decorate the deck.”

-

Codsworth:

Sole looked the distressed ghoul over and sighed. “You know, I think you could use a drink. Or three,” they said, gently leading the ex-rep downstairs. Codsworth led the way and hurried to Buddy to get them both a cold Gwinnett Stout each.

“I never even had the chance to get your name,” Sole remarked as the ghoul took the bottle and chugged down at least half of it in one go before even looking at them.

“Of course you didn’t,” he groaned. “Vault-Tec was a corporation, and no one cared about our names. We weren’t human to them. And some of us will never be human again.” He paused for another sip and a deep sigh. “You’re actually the first person to ask me that in almost 250 years. It’s Maximillian. Max for short.”

“Sure thing, Max.” Sole smiled and gently touched his arm. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Thank you,” he squeezed out, nearly crying. “I honestly had no idea what to do with myself. Everything’s so different here now, so strange and terrifying. I’m not cut out for this!” He shuddered, stifling a sob. “I thought I was lucky to have found this place at least, but it’s just as cut-throat here as everywhere else…”

Sole strongly disagreed with that but wasn’t going to argue with the man’s grief or distress, or whatever that was. And even though they wanted to help, it was going to be next to impossible if he didn’t calm down first. So they slid the beer a little closer to him again. “We can talk about that later,” they said. “For now, just try to relax.”

Max sucked onto the bottle again and Sole raised their brow at the pace at which the beer was disappearing down his throat. They were quite familiar with how resistant ghouls could be, so they nodded at Codsworth to keep the beers coming, and he obliged them, as always, with joyful eagerness.

After that, the mood changed and suddenly, it was all small talk and awkward jokes Sole remembered Max for from that fateful day. Max had a lot of questions, mainly pertaining to how Sole survived, what happened to their family, and particularly, where they found the strength to become the survivor they were now.

“I was always a survivor,” they only said. “It’s just the circumstances that need surviving which change.”

Max nodded solemnly. Then it was all stories: first about the Vault, then about suburbian life, then how Sole had met their spouse… Seemingly without end, just one after another. Whenever Sole couldn’t (or didn’t want to) remember something, Codsworth happily took over, much to their relief or sometimes dismay.

And he was a great and eager storyteller as well, holding Max’s attention without any effort, and even though Sole obviously knew everything he talked about, they found themself caught up, too. Max kept moving back with his questions, as though in an attempt to learn everything there was to know about Sole. It was borderline obsessive, and Sole was growing gradually more suspicious, until finally, Max gave up pretending and straight-up asked what he really was interested in.

“So, who are you, really?” And seeing Sole’s blank expression, he continued with excitement that could only partly be explained by the copious amounts of alcohol he had poured into himself. “Come on. Let me guess: Filipino? Taiwanese? I’m sure it’s not China ‘cause such a nice person couldn’t possibly be a dirty commie.” Sole gritted their teeth and rolled their eyes, but remained silent, hoping a glare would be enough to make him shut up. “But, hmm… Korea?” His eyes lit up. “Japan?”

“I don’t understand…” Codsworth’s pleasant but subtly forceful tone put a stop to his tirade. “What are you trying to say, sir?” he asked with perfectly calculated confusion.

“I mean…” Max looked between him and Sole, clearly trying to make himself understood without actually spelling it out. Sole stared him down coldly while Codsworth beeped with some distress.

“Oh, I’m sure it must be difficult,” Codsworth cooed then, even his robotic voice practically dripping with sarcasm. “Being a ghoul, having to admit that you’re doing your best to offend a fellow American who also happened to be the only person willing to help you, merely based on their looks.”

Max chewed on his lip and stared at them both with something like regret, but didn’t dare speak.

“And of course, how would you admit that without losing what little chance you had of–”

“That’s enough, Codsworth,” Sole said tiredly, standing up when they saw he was getting nowhere. “Let’s just leave. We have things to do.” If Max made any attempt to stop them, Sole didn’t spare a glance to check.

-

Curie:

“Oh! There are injured there!”

That was Sole’s only warning before Curie, like a true wartime medic, dashed away from them despite the legitimate rain of bullets flying any which way. “Curie!” they shouted but when they tried to leave cover to follow her and bring her back to safety, they were forced back as a shot whizzed past their face and another luckily ricocheted off their rifle. But somehow, she got to her destination safely and started tending to the bullet wound of a caravan driver who had been hit by a stray slug. Go figure.

They quickly dispatched with the remaining raiders, although not without eating a couple of bullets themself, and hobbled over to check on Curie and the terrible gut wound she was now joint-deep in. And as soon as they stepped close enough, they recognized the trader–they had met him before and those were hardly pleasant encounters.

And sure enough, as soon as they came into view, the caravaneer’s mouth twisted even further, from a grimace of pain to a snarl of disgust. “Shoulda known this shoout-out was your fault,” he huffed. “We shoulda left all you gooks in the camps.”

“Oh, no!” Curie instantly pulled away from the wound, in no way delicately, eliciting an entirely satisfying scream of pain from the guy. “My apologies, monsieur,” she continued with utmost politeness even as she proceeded to disinfect herself and her tools as zealously as if she was worried they’d catch something from him. “I’m afraid I have more important patients to look after.”

And with that, she lead Sole away, already stabbing them full of Stimpaks and Med-X even as the guy screamed after them, “Wait! Come back! Aren’t you supposed to be a doctor? You’re just gonna leave a human being to die?!”

“I’m sorry, monsieur,” Curie replied in the most perfect robotic voice Sole had ever heard from her to date. “I do not understand the question. I am looking after the human being.”

-

Danse:

Sole couldn’t really tell what exactly got the Brotherhood’s panties up in a bunch when Danse was escorting them to Maxson’s office, at least not at first. Sure, the rest of the Commonwealth was squarely divided into those who considered Sole’s looks before anything else and hated them for “causing the Great War” (true story), and those who recognised 200-year-old conflicts to be no longer relevant, to whom their skin colour was the least of the issue. But Sole had hoped that the Brotherhood, what with their centuries of historical research and prioritising humanity above all, would be content with the fact that they were a human, rather than focusing on the one that they were a specific brand of human.

They were only half-wrong.

Sure, the Scribes were more than welcoming and perfectly polite and most Paladins scoffed at them just like they did at everyone else, but the Knights… well, they were considerably less indiscriminate. And somehow, they seemed to be everywhere Sole went.

Sole and Danse were just walking past one such group, when a younger member, clearly not as well-versed in hiding their opinions as others were, could be heard loudly stating, “I just don’t get why we’re letting this happen. People like that are exactly why we’re here in the first place.”

At first, Sole wasn’t even sure if they didn’t just mean the infamous Brotherhood’s ‘outsiders’, but Danse didn’t seem to have any such doubts. He strode over to the group, towering above them in his shining Power Armor.

“Sounds like you need some fresh air to clear your head, Initiate,” he said in a voice as cold as ice, yet his steel gaze was even colder. “A jog, I would say. On the ground, around the compound. Outside the walls.”

The Initiate visibly paled. “But, sir, there’s cliffs and–”

Danse’s face was stone as he rumbled, “Make it work.”

-

Deacon:

In Deacon’s own immortal words, walking around the ‘Wealth with the face Sole was wearing was always a treat, but sometimes the sarcastic kind. Every now and then, when the mood would strike, Deacon would do a face swap and walk around looking vaguely similar to Sole, taking way too much joy in pretending to be their overprotective older brother with every racist asshole they encountered. He’d whip off his sunglasses and glare at the perp with his hand hovering dangerously close to the iron and the signature Scowl No. 3 on his face.

Other times, the absurdity was just too strong. Like that one time they were walking around Diamond City and a woman squinted her eyes at Sole. “Where are you from?” she asked, and Sole could feel Deacon’s hackles going up behind them.

Sole shrugged. “Boston.”

“Boston?” She squinted even more and gave a few confused blinks. “What part of China is that?”

Whatever composure Sole had managed to gather, it all evaporated. With something between a sob and a chuckle, they pressed a shaky hand to their forehead. Deacon, in turn, approached the woman. “A real diamond in the rough, eh, boss?” he muttered, peering at her like she was a circus attraction. “Could use a little cut and polish…”

Before Sole could react or Deacon follow on his threat, the woman was long gone between the buildings.

-

Dogmeat:

Sole wasn’t entirely sure what they expected to happen if they trained Dogmeat to attack on command, but they did hope that using a word so outdated nobody in the 23rd century would even know about it, let alone think to use it, was a clever choice. I mean, who would even call them ‘Oriental’ anymore, right?

Now, as they were watching Dogmeat, bare-teethed and growling, chase down a terrified Wastelander, Sole was seriously pondering if they should conveniently forget the “stand down” command as well.

-

Hancock:

They had no intention of getting into a fight today. They even took a wide berth around a Raider’s camp, but clearly not wide enough: a couple of watchmen noticed them and readied their pipe pistols. Sole and Hancock were way out of their range, so instead of coming out from behind their fortifications, the Raiders started shouting down toward them, hoping to provoke them into a fight.

But once their meager assemblage of ‘ghoul-fuckers’ and ‘Do you glow, too?’s was done, they were really scraping the bottom of the barrel. “’Ey, China Eyes!” one of them hollered. “Got any more bombs for us?”

Hancock, who had up till now only ground his teeth, finally had enough and hoisted his Fat Man onto his shoulder, stepping back with one foot to support it. “Don’t fuckin’ tempt me!” he yelled back.

The Raiders instantly disappeared behind their makeshift barricades and metal walls. Sole shook their head, though they had to admit the display was warming their cockles; with a hand on Hancock’s shoulder, they urged him along. “As much as I like watching you handle that thing, they’re not worth 400 caps a nuke…”

Hancock followed, letting the Fat Man down as he wagged his naked brows at Sole. “You sure know how to talk me down…”

-

MacCready:

“Go back to China!”

“I wish I could!” MacCready yelled back before Sole had a chance to even look around. And then they couldn’t see or breathe, doubled down in laughter as Mac all but dragged them along, beaming with pride.

-

Nick:

The trader was really getting on Sole’s nerves, speaking to them in slow and clear syllables like they were a moron. But they knew what was going on, and it wasn’t the first time. And just as they were about to give the deepest of sighs and finally say something, Nick stepped up to they side and nodded at the merchant. “Thank you for your considerate user accessibility but I’m operating at full capacity.”

The guy stopped mid-sentence, his voice caught in his throat and eyes flicking between Sole and Nick until Sole finally snickered. “Oh, look at that. I don’t seem to have any American money on me.”

“Shocking,” Nick murmured in agreement.

“Sorry for wasting your time.”

Nick dipped his hat at the merchant just as they were walking away. “Hope your speech impediment resolves soon.”

-

Piper:

“Nan-ni shimasu-ka?”

“Hai! Arigatou, Takahashi-san.” Sole beamed at Piper who sat next to them with a lenient smile across her lips. Even if he was ‘just’ a robot, it was still nice to hear their mother tongue. “You’re one to talk, Red,” they teased. “You get into pretend conversations with him all the time.”

“Incorrect. I get into pretend conversations with myself. Takahashi’s just there to pretend to listen.”

“Riiight. ‘Cause that’s better.” They laughed as Takahashi served them each with a warm bowl of noodles. Sole winked at him, albeit pointlessly. “Arigatou gozaimashita.”

“Now you’re just showing off,” Piper laughed as Takahashi nodded to himself and whirred away. “How does the other thing go again?”

“Itadakimasu?”

“Yes, that’s it. Ithadakeemasoo.”

“Please never do that again. It has the exactl opposite effect on my appetite.”

Just as they laughed, an obviously new-to-town group of wastelanders walked up to the counter as if looking for something but quickly realizing this was a food bar. Just as they were about to walk away again, Takahashi stepped over to them and asked, “Nan-ni shimasu-ka?”

One of the outsiders spat on the ground. “Look at that Commie bot serving its Commie food…” They trodded off too fast to notice Sole or their tired eyeroll and defeated groan. But Piper did.

She looked at them quizzically as they pushed the noodles away, still rolling their eyes so hard they nearly fell off the chair; and when they didn’t say anything, she asked, “You okay?”

“I just hate assholes like that.”

Piper shrugged. “It’s just another group of idiots who don’t know anything about Diamond City. Definitely not gonna make the front page.”

For the sake of their relationship, Sole tried to stifle another groan but failed miserably. Piper raised her brow. Sole wasn’t sure if she was taking offense or asking a question, but… “Look, I get that people don’t even know what Asia is, but come the fuck on. Japan and the US were on the same side! This is the camps all over again…”

“Okay, that’s… Wow. So Japan fought China, too?”

“Historically, quite a lot, actually. You know, the–” 

But before Sole could finish their sentence, Piper waved her hand at them. “Wait, wait, wait.” She ushered them into her home and pulled out her trusty notebook. “Let’s make this an interview. I’m gonna turn this into ‘The Origins of Takahashi’ but make it educational.”

For a second, Sole questioned if they should trust her, given that every conversation they ever had about Japan was full of jokes, but then… if anybody could do this justice, it was her. So they sat instead, preparing for a night of talking but starting it with an, “Arigatou, Piper-san.”

She laughed. “You’re a riot, Blue.”

-

Preston:

“Look, Preston, I told you already. How can I be the General of the Minutemen when there are barely any Minutemen? Enlist a few more people and then I’ll–”

“I did.” Preston beamed with a thoroughly blinding grin as he made a sweeping gesture to the road where a good dozen people were quietly talking between themselves. “Can I announce it now?”

Sole skeptically stared down the obviously simple folks, unsure of themselves outside of the comfort of their own homes. “Have you trained them at all?”

“Well, it’s not exactly a General’s job, you know. But if you were the General, then I could–”

“Alright, I get it. Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

There was a flash of joy, or maybe a triumphant smile, on Preston’s face but when they were stepping out of the house, he put his hand on Sole’s arm. “You’re doing the right thing. And thank you.”

Sole playfully bumped their shoulder into his before they stepped out of the house and together stood in front of the gathered Minutemen.”

“Welcome, everyone, and thank you for coming,” Preston started. “I know we only just embarked on this journey to a safer Commonwealth together, but today I wanted to introduce you to your new General! This is–”

“What, them?”

Preston paused and squinted quizzically at the man in the front row, wearing a wife-beater and a baseball hat with an eagle on it–already a bad sign… He was staring daggers at Sole while Preston’s brow furrowed. “And why would that be a problem?” he asked slowly.

The guy sucked on his cheek, looking around the other people for support. Didn’t seem like he found a satisfactory amount, but it didn’t slow him down any. “Well, I think as Minutemen, that we should have a true American in such a high position.”

Preston’s jaw clenched and he exchanged looks with Sole. They shrugged back at him as if to say, ‘You recruited them,’ but even then they were trying to hold back their own simmering rage.

But he guy in the front was either blind or clueless because he just carried on, “Y’know, someone of pure heart and blood, who’s like us, right? Like a… like a neighbor or someone who grows up around the corner and fights for us, and looks like us…”

That was it. The speed with which Preston could draw his musket was truly remarkable, but even more so was the way this normally calm man slapped the nozzle of the musket into the man’s chest so hard he knocked the wind out of him, and in the coldest voice of a killer growled, “I think you might need to take a long, long walk, fella.”

Eagle Cap didn’t budge at first, but when Preston started cranking up the musket, he paled and only with a small squeak and an enthusiastic nod, slipped through and out the small crowd to embark on a treacherous journey back home. Sole thought for a second that was probably a worse death than Preston’ musket, but for some reason, they could not scrounge up even the littlest bit of empathy right now; especially since the shock of seeing Preston like that was still freezing them in place.

Preston, in turn, let the musket down but stared at the remaining Minutemen with an icy gaze. “Anybody else got any pressing concerns?”

-

Strong:

For a supermutant, Strong was surprisingly attuned to Sole’s changes in mood and behavior. So perhaps it shouldn’t have been such a surprise that when yet another settler told them to ‘get out’ on account of Sole being a ‘dirty Commie’, Sole’s poker face was apparently more than enough for Strong to take a few steps to tower over the settler, saying: “There is no milk of human kindness here. Useless village.”

What happened after was forever ingrained in Sole’s mind as another tick in the ‘not a viable settlement’ column…

- 

X6:

While travelling, Sole and X6 would sometimes join a trader’s caravan while Sole bargained for their redundant gear and earned a few more for protecting the traders along the way. And they were always nice, too–be it because they were actually tolerant or just considered Sole’s brown skin to be a particular kind of sunburn rather than anything of interest was always a question. Maybe they paled in comparison to X6. Maybe the traders saw many other Asian folks around through their travels. Undetermined.

But one day, when they joined a new caravan and the sun was slowly descending on the sky, somebody approached Sole to ask, “Would you like us to take a break now?”

“No, why would we? We just started out.”

“Oh, I thought you Muslims were supposed to do some sort of praying at dusk.”

Sole blanked out for most of the sentence but then turned to X6 with the look of utter consternation on their face, “Hey, in case I’m wrong about my country of origin, X6, what’s the most common religion in India again?”

“I believe that would be hinduism,” X6 helpfully answered, already catching on.

“Right, of course.” Sole made a face as if they needed to be reminded of that at least every other week, then frowned even more. “So is there anything I’m doing or wearing that would suggest I may be Muslim?”

“Okay, I ge–” the caravan guard tried to interject but neither Sole nor X6 were about to let anything stop them now.

“No,” X6 continued. “In fact, you’re wearing a bindi, which is traditionally a Hindu decoration.”

“Yes, I do wonder why I’m wearing it if I’m Muslim…”

X6 approached Sole and placed his hand on their forehead as if checking for fever. “It seems you are in a state of some confusion. Perhaps you should sit down while I take care of this.” And with the most Courser glare to ever Courser, he turned to the guy.

The caravaneer put his hand up, like that was gonna save him. “I meant no offense…”

“Too bad,” X6 muttered, approaching. “Offense is my favorite word.”

[kisstheburnsaway]

I think I've had at least one request here and I'm happy to take more!

Does anyone know any John Hancock x y/n from fallout where they don't describe what y/n looks like, I've gone through all the pages on archive of our own and I've found nothing.

[kisstheburnsaway]

How old do you think the fo4 companions/faction leaders are?

Cait - 26 (canon)

In canon, she was born in 2261, making her 26 years old at the start of Fallout 4. It’s surprising she still looks her age with her addiction to chems and presumed years of taking beatings she’s taken.

Codsworth - 211

Codsworth was purchased and brought online shortly after Nora discovered she was pregnant to help tend to the expectant mother and eventually the newborn. While he might not technically have a birthday, he chooses January 27th as his day to celebrate coming into this world.

Curie (Pre- & Post-Emergent Behavior) - 213

Curie was programmed as a Miss Nanny, then as a lab assistant, and finally as the Curie Sole meets before (and shortly after) the Great War. After her “mind” is transferred into the synth body, it’s easy to assume she’s around the age of 25.

Danse (Pre-Blind Betrayal) - 32

Having access to medicines that most people in the Wastelands wouldn’t have can do wonders for a person's health and physical appearance, keeping him looking his age despite the scars and frown lines that attempt to age him.

Deacon - 50

Sometimes Deacon looks his age, sometimes he looks younger. It all depends on the disguise he uses and how long it’s been since his last face change.

Dogmeat - 3

It’s true that some dogs (such as Rex) have survived since before the Great War, but Dogmeat isn’t one of them. Instead he was born into his mothers third litter and separated from her shortly after being weaned.

Hancock - 33

He was still pretty young and hopeful when he took over as mayor, but everyone was more than happy to accept him since he wasn’t Vic.

MacCready - 22 (canon)

The years had not exactly been kind to MacCready, given him becoming a single father in such a horrific way and having to fight his way through life while worrying about his son. It’s no wonder he looks a little older than he is,

Nick Valentine - 38

Obviously this is a reference to the age he was at which he was when he became a synth, not a linear timeline of how old he would be now.

Piper Wright - 22

Coming in at ten years older than Nat, Piper has a lot on her plate when it comes to raising her sister, making a name for herself, and keeping herself and her small family safe and alive. If she has a secret to keeping herself looking young amid all the stress of her day-to-day life, she’s not talking.

Preston Garvey - 23

This was a difficult one to pinpoint, really. The most information anyone can find on an age for Preston is that he joined the Minutemen at age 17 and had “a few good years” under the command of Ezra Hollis before the Colonel’s death during the Quincy massacre that appears to have taken place a few months before Sole meets Preston and company at the museum.

Strong - 21

While most of the “test subjects” found in the Institute appear to be in their late twenties to mid-thirties, they were all either declared deceased or terminated by the scientist working on them. Who is to say that someone like Strong wasn’t one of the successes at a younger age with better health than most others?

X6-88 - 28

Obviously this assumption is based more on his physical appearance rather than his actual age from his creation at the Institute.

Ada - 5

While Ada seems to have been programmed with the maturity of someone much older, she was created just five years before meeting Sole after the untimely demise of Jackson and company.

Old Longfellow - 72

Honestly, one could argue that Old Longfellow is only alive out of pure spite more than anything, but it’s more likely he has a mutation that prevents him from being affected by radiation and the fog. And before anyone says that 72 is too old for anyone in the Commonwealth, please remember that Jericho is 65 when you hire him in Fallout 3.

Porter Gage - 32

If Gage joined his first gang at 16 and has been running with them for at least half his life (and dealing with them his entire life), then one could only assume that he is at least in his early thirties, possibly even older than that.

Desdemona - 41

Joining in with the right group can do wonders for your lifespan, even if she does show her age for the most part in the right light.

Mags Black - 24

Listening to Mags talk, it’s rather obvious that she’s a natural born leader but also still rather young. She understands the lure of caps like one born and raised in Diamond City, but she doesn’t seem to understand that it’s not quite everything that keeps the world moving.

Nisha - 44

The fact that Nisha is still alive and kicking is a miracle in itself, but the fact that she is also still a raider is practically unheard of. Sure, Gage can brag that he’s been a raider half his life, but Nisha has been one for nearly all of hers thanks to Sledge.

Mason - 28

Looking closely beneath the paint one can see what appears to be age marks and wrinkles, both of which can be explained by the constant use and stress of running with and ultimately running a gang as wild as the Pack while wearing such heavy paint as he does.

[kisstheburnsaway]

I know I've been an inactive twatface but I promise I'm still here and working on them slowly but surely!

How come like every Fallout 4 “Companions React” page like all collectively haven’t posted since 2018 what happened… please I’ve only been using Tumblr actively for like less than a month

[kisstheburnsaway]

I really hope you keep this up as I love these reactions. I was wondering if you can do a reaction of romanced compainions reacting to a missing SS returning with no memories of there adventures in the commonwealth and now the overboss of nuke-world. Thank you.

Oh, hello, pressure ;) Just kidding. Unfortunately, I haven’t played the DLCs to FO4 because I’m poor as hell, so I’m not really sure how to take this one… I’m sorry! Any chance you can sit on this until I get my hands on the Nuka-World and re-submit at a later time? I promise I’ll let you guys know ;)

[kisstheburnsaway]

Hello dear! I just love your writing! Could i request a young!fem sole (around 19/20) x Hancock inspired by the song ”Does Your Mother Know?” by ABBA? Plus for smut hehe, love you!

[[Aww, I love you, too! Now, no worries, I can deliver on whatever you want! (Even if it is oddly specific…) So just sit back and let me take care of all your smutty needs…]]

[[Warning: mild angst and spicy NSFW ahead.]]

Feel the Pounding

{Your feelings are driving you wild}

“So what brings you to these parts?” he asks, pouring them both a drink.

“I’m looking for my son. His name is Shaun, and he’s–”

The bottle clangs loudly against the table, stopping Sole mid-sentence. “Wait, wait, wait. You’re looking for your what??”

“For my who,” Sole corrects indignantly, but Hancock’s not listening anymore at this point.

“How did you get yourself a kid? I mean, you look like you’re– How old are you?”

Sole chokes on her drink and coughs when it hits her that she’s actually closer to 230 years old than anything else. But she can’t say that, can she? Still, did the time in the freezer have any effect on her or is she, biologically, still the same age as before?

And when was the last time anyone asked her that? Could it have been Nate? On her last birthday?

“I’m, um… I’m twenty.”

“Twenty?? And you have a kid? How did that happen? Has anyone–?”

“No, no, no, no, no. We just started early, me and my husband.”

“Your– No, I give up.” Hancock threw his hands up, then got up and paced around the room. “And where is he now, your husband?”

“…He’s dead.”

“Oh. Sorry to hear that.”

They sit in silence for a while, disturbed only by the sound of alcohol being poured into both their glasses by Hancock’s burnt hand. Again. Sole can already feel the buzz making her heart thump with the force of a brahmin kick, but it doesn’t stop her from downing this one as well. Hancock doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest.

{I can chat with you, babyFlirt a little, maybeDoes your mother know that you’re out?}

“So what about the rest of your family?” Hancock asks softly, pouring her another one, though it’s a visibly smaller amount. Sole just shrugs and decides to take her time with this one, too. Hancock’s black eyes seem to be following every move of her hand and she can’t help but feel hot under that gaze.

Hancock downs two more drinks before she’s finished with hers, and only then does she notice the unmistakable glint in his eye, indicating he, too, is starting to feel the effects of whatever it is that they’re drinking. Sole, for some reason, can’t take her gaze off of Hancock’s face, tracing the scarring’s intricate patterns, the lines forming all the bumps and valleys, revealing small windows of dry flesh and muscle moving beneath. It’s awfully gross, but also somewhat… fascinating. She wants to know how it would feel under her fingers.

“You okay there, girl?” Hancock catches her hand mid-air. Sole just stares at him in surprise, only now realizing what she was about to do.

“Uh… Yeah. Yeah.” She retracts her hand, feeling the blush creep up her cheeks.

“You looked positively mesmerized for a minute there,” he continues in the lightest of tones as he pours her another small portion of amber liquor. “Anything you wanna tell me?”

“Umm…” She blushes even more, downing it in one gulp. “I just, uh… I’ve never been this close to a Ghoul before.”

He raises his hairless brow. “Really?”

“Well, not to one that isn’t trying to kill me, at least.” She lets out a soft sigh, relieved to have told him, but also trying to ignore the desperate fluttering of her heart. Was it fear or… something else?

Hancock chuckles softly, filling up his own drink, then putting the bottle aside. “I think we might need to take it easy on the booze,” he says and immediately belies himself by gulping down the entirety of his glass.

{I can see what you wantBut you seem pretty young to be searching for that kinda fun}

Blood runs hot in her veins. She tries her best to explain to herself that it’s just the alcohol taking over, that it’s just a reaction. She’s never drunk so much in one go in her life. Not even at the wedding. She never really liked the taste of alcohol in the first place. But this man here, in front of her, is so overwhelming she doesn’t even feel it when she’s pouring it down her throat. It might as well be purified water.

And so, parts of her keep disbelieving the whole alcohol story, and she finds herself looking deeper and deeper into Hancock’s black ghoulish eyes. She takes deep breaths even though she knows she’s well past the point of calming down. He smells of dust and chems, but there’s also the slightest hint of a damp forest, even though he doesn’t look like he leaves the city much, or ever. But it reminds her of all the times she camped on the road, snuggling into a warm sleeping bag, dying embers of the fire glistening softly in the dark while the undergrowth embraced her and carried her to sleep.

She inches closer to Hancock, eyes tracing down the ridge of what’s left of his nose all the way down to his thin, pale lips. They twist into a soft paternal smile.

“Yep. That is definitely more than enough for you, girl.” He takes her glass away as she huffs indignantly at the name.

“That’s interesting,” she mutters in reply. “You weren’t nearly so patronizing when you wanted me to murder a bunch of raiders for you.”

Hancock throws her a surprised smile, then bursts out laughing. “It wasn’t even clear that you were female under all that gear, no way I could gauge your age,” he quips.

She wants to keep sulking, but the rhyming makes her crack up, too, until she finally sighs and rubs her eyes, setting back against the couch. Hancock winks at her from his spot across the room.

“But now you’re sitting there in that summer dress and you look like a baby. Seriously, I mean… You’re so cute,” he teases again, and she’s just about to throw a grenade at him when his face suddenly sets into something more serious and honest. He nods softly to himself. “I like your style.”

The compliment sends a surge of heat through her body and she takes a deeper breath, suddenly unable to hold his gaze. She starts casually looking around the room, like the décor of his office is going to give her any notion as to what to do next. Even though the mood has sort of dissipated, she can’t ignore the warm sticky wetness between her thighs, making itself known with the slightest move. It’s been very, very long since she last felt like this, but it was, in all senses of the word, unmistakable.

Hancock finally makes his way back to the couch and plops next to her with a proud grin, splaying his arms along the back.

“I can’t even remember what we were talking about,” he chuckles, and she can almost see his defenses dropping just with the proximity.

“Oh?” Her lips twist up coyly. “Could it be that the, uh, alcohol is starting to take effect on you, too?”

Hancock gives one last weak chuckle, then turns a little to meet her gaze. She immediately melts into his bottomless eyes. “Look, I know what you mean when you give me a flash of that smile.” He did a circle with his finger, pointing at her mouth, but then looked down. His hand moved slowly to gently brush against hers. “But girl, you’re only a child.”

“Excuse me?” She recoils, pulling away. “You seem to have very special rules of conduct regarding children, Hancock. Sure, giving them a gun and sending them on a rampage is great, but–”

“I’m nearly twice your age.”

“Who gives a shit?” She chuckles wryly. “Look around, Hancock. The world is fucking broken, I don’t know if you’ve noticed. Everyone we knew and loved is gone. Is it really so wrong to want to forget about that for a split second?”

“I like to think I last longer than that,” he mutters indignantly. She lets out a sigh and shakes her head, throwing him a black look. “And no, it’s not wrong at all,” he adds placatingly. “I just… I’m not the one for you.”

She blinks at him for a couple of second. “So that’s what this is about?” She scoffs, rubbing her forehead before she finally sets sideways against the back of the couch, hooking her elbow on it. “Now I get it. It’s not about my age, or about whether it’s wrong, or about a potential scandal if your people found out, or anything like that. It’s about the simple fact that I look younger than I am and you want me, and you can’t handle it.” He doesn’t answer, just keeps staring into the distance, taking in everything she throws at him. “I mean… You have no idea how out of bounds this is for me. Me being attracted to you goes against every rule I’ve ever been taught, against every value I’ve grown up with, against even my basic survival instinct, because like I mentioned, my previous experiences with ghouls weren’t really the greatest so far.”

“So it’s a race thing?” He gives her a glare.

“Of course it’s a race thing!” She throws her hands up like it should’ve been obvious. “My grandfather’s rolling around in his grave right now if he can see me like this.” She lets out a soft sigh, and after a second, she continues, “But it’s also a betrayal of the memory of my husband. And instead of sitting here having drinks with you, I should be out there looking for my son.” She sniffles softly. “So really, there is a multitude of rational reasons for me to get up and leave right now.” She sighs again, looking at Hancock from beneath heavy eyelids. “And yet these feelings are still sticking around.”

He doesn’t offer any kind of reply, looking away again, so she just scoffs and says, “But you’re right. The age difference is the insurmountable obstacle,” before getting up and prancing towards the door. “Goddammit,” she just mumbles under her breath, when her gaze falls on the glass she was just drinking from. She’s such an idiot.

Suddenly, there’s a wiry hand clamping around her arm like a vice, then impact of a firm wall against her back, then suddenly a burnt face nuzzling into her neck, raining kisses on her smooth skin. She gasps and moans, turning into putty in his hands as he works her with skill she’s never encountered before. Is that what he meant about the age difference? Does he think she can’t handle him? Or that she’s going to be the worst lover he’s ever been with?

He doesn’t give her time to ponder that when he turns her around again, pressing her cheek to the cold plaster and flaky wallpaper, hands closing tightly around her waist to keep her in place while he explores every inch of her neck, taking her breath and strength away. She gives in to him readily, the wetness between her thighs spreading slightly against the fabric of her dress.

His hand creeps up her back, fiery shivers following in its wake, working its way up to Sole’s head. The fingers entwine into her hair, sliding across her skull, and then suddenly close tightly, pulling her head back. Her lips fall open with a gasp that turns into a loud moan as soon as Hancock’s lips are back on the nook of her neck. God, those kisses are making her so weak in the knees, she would’ve surely keeled over by now if his lean body wasn’t pressing her against the wall.

His other hand wriggles on her waist, pooling the fabric between its fingers, slowly exposing her thighs. Sole barely overcomes the sudden feeling of panic that comes on with the realization of what she got herself into, and she knows she won’t be able to keep it at bay for long. “Wait…” she huffs softly even as she bites her lips with the pleasure of his kisses. “Hancock, wait…”

He slows to a stop, lips brushing up her neck to reach her ear. “What is it?” he asks softly. Maybe there is some good to the whole fucking age difference thing. Her husband, who happened to be the same age as her–he’d never stop just because of a whisper. And here Hancock’s hand is falling away from her hair, easing its grip until she’s free. It brushes down her bare arm with a feather-touch on its way to her hips.

“I…” she gasps as a shiver went down her spine. “I wanna see you.”

She only hears a soft chuckle from behind. “Oh? And what happened to all the rules and values you grew up with?” Hancock teases, taking a small step back to let her turn to face him, though his hands never leave her body.

“I always hated them.” She reaches up to his lips, realizing she really wants to know how a ghoul tastes. And Hancock obliges readily.

There’s something tangy to the taste of his tongue, a bit like the alcohol they were just drinking, but somehow she feels it had nothing to do with this. She dips in even further, arms wrapping around his neck. One hand pulls off his tricorn hat and throws it away before setting on the back of his head. The other falls steady against his shoulders. He leans over her slightly, pulling her in by her waist, and she kisses him like there’s going to be no tomorrow once again.

She falls away only to look him deep in the eye as he grabs blindly at the hem of her dress, then slips his hands underneath, rubbing strongly up her thighs until he reaches her hips. “Hold on, sweetheart,” he grunts and she can’t tell if she’s about to faint because of his low, hoarse tembre, because of the ‘sweetheart’, or because he pulls her up to straddle his hips as he secures her against the wall.

“Oh, God,” she mumbles, going for one more kiss as the haze overtakes her mind. Everything he’s doing is so intense and hot she can barely handle it.

“‘John’ will suffice,” he quips with a grin as he pulls away to look her in the eye with the fiercest gaze that makes her melt and groan even as she chuckles. With his eyes set on hers, lips slightly parted in a quick, hot breath spattered with an occasional soft grunt of arousal, and his chest pressed firmly against hers, he looked yummy. Even with that caricature of the nose and the radiation-burn scars covering his entire body. Even without hair or fingernails. Even with the muscles moving unsettlingly right beneath his skin. If she wasn’t three feet in the air right now, she’d already be on her knees, testing out her meager skills on his ghoulish cock.

He reaches around her thigh to fumble with his pants while his other hand still holds her hips up. Sole’s breath quickens as she realizes there is less and less fabric between them with every second. It’s all so intense and passionate, and hot, more so than she ever experienced, and she, now, isn’t sure if she can handle him. She pulls him in for another desperate kiss, like that’s going to help her build some confidence.

“Hey,” he whispers after a second as she pants into his mouth, barely catching her breath. “Take it easy. Try to cool it, girl.”

“Call me a girl one more time,” she growled, fingers tightening against his skull. “I dare you.”

He just groans in response, cock brushing against her underwear as he finally manages to free it from its leather confines. She gasps softly at the sensation. Somehow she’s certain it’s probably better for her that she can’t see it from her perspective. Instead, she just kisses him again, trying to grind her hips against him. She’s so scared and so impatient at the same time, she has no idea what to do with herself.

“It’s okay,” he coos, thumb brushing against her thigh in a calming motion. “I gotcha, girl. We’ll take it nice and slow.”

She was going to choke him in anger, but instead she just whines with need, pressing up against him. Hancock gathers up some spit with his fingers and the cool against her cunt is the only warning she gets before he puts himself to her entrance and starts pushing up while letting her slowly go. She gasps and moans but twists against him, trying to navigate him inside blindly with just her hips. Hancock huffs a couple of times before a louder groan escapes his throat as he finally slides slowly in.

She can’t really tell if he’s really that big or is she just very much out of practice, but the pain is unbearable, even though it somehow makes her insides explode with pleasure. And when he starts moving, picking up the pace practically with every minute, she throws her head back, a long loud moan tearing through her throat. “Fuck…” she only sobs, and Hancock chuckles against her neck.

“Who’s lasting a split second now, huh?” he quips, but at the same time he speeds up even more, working through her clenched down cunt and she grabs onto him for dear life, moaning like a pained whore. She could swear he’s turning her inside out but fuck her if it doesn’t feel marvelous.

“John,” she moans his name, and he looks up at her with something like a smirk in the corner of his mouth. He definitely knows what he’s doing to her. “John, it’s too much…”

“You asked for it, didn’t you?” he teases, then hisses when her fingers easily rake his neck open.

“Fuck yes,” she replies, eyes rolling back in her skull every time he bottoms out. “Please don’t stop, please…” she huffs, breath getting pushed out of her chest with every one of his strong thrusts. “John, fuck, fuck, fuck, please…” she begs. “Please fuck me more, oh Goood…”

He grins again, lips busying themselves with her neck while he holds her hips up and fucks into them like a professional gigolo–which she wouldn’t really put beneath him. He does look and feel like the kind of guy who once rocked the streets of Diamond City. “I want you,” he groans, face buried somewhere between her neck and breast. “I want more of you.”

“God, fuck, yes, take it all!” she groans breathlessly, head hanging back. She doesn’t even know exactly what he said. She only knows everything he’s doing feels like heaven and she never wants him to stop.

Still, it does come to a stop with Hancock’s arms wrapping tightly around her and face buried in her chest as he lets out several long groans, strong splurts shooting into her and flowing out in thick ropes falling slowly to the ground. Somehow, she can’t let go of him for the longest time after, and they end up sitting on the couch again, Sole straddling Hancock’s hips while she comes down from the longest series of orgasms she’s ever had.

{Does your mother know?}

[kisstheburnsaway]

In case you haven’t noticed, I love Deathclaws

also, yes, I’m still alive (I mean, I literally just started this thing?), and I’m working on your requests, guys

[kisstheburnsaway]

Just the Girl to Make Me Forget...

...to tell you guys that I actually have a crapload of NSFW requests for reacts left over from my Bagel days. I’m not sure how she’d feel about me doing them here, but she won’t, so someone has to. Anyway, feel free to send me some more but there is a good chance they’ll reiterate what I already have in my workshop. If not, I’ll add them to the list. Thanks, ta!

[kisstheburnsaway]

Flash! Bam! Alakazam!

Original post: HERE

Anonymous asked: companions' Hogwarts houses + patronus?

[kisstheburnsaway]

When Your White Count’s Getting Higher

Original post: HERE  (also there’s this HERE (and it’s gonna get a follow-up one of these days))

Anonymous asked: You think you could do a short story about what happened to Hancock right after he took the radiation drug? (Like what do you think that felt like? Do you think it involved a lot of puking? Do you think it was before or after he became mayor? Do you think at some point Hancock thought he was gonna die?) All I've gotta say is I figure ghoulification is very unpleasant and painful as all hell.

[[Just to be clear, this is based on my own monsterpost about ghoulification from a bit ago + our talks with Bagel where we were figuring out Hancock’s timeline and figured his change “to become a better man” must’ve happened all at once. Personally, I kinda don’t see Hancock becoming mayor and THEN changing into a ghoul and people just being okay with it, especially since this process would have to take two weeks minimum. It must’ve been before he overthrew Vic, but we also know he was human when he was a drifter… so that leaves only one moment in his life when this could’ve happened.]] [[And no, I don’t think he thought he was gonna die. I think he HOPED he was gonna die.]] [[But to everything else I say: yes, yes, and YES. And “enjoy” ;)]]

[[PS. And what do you mean, ‘a short story’? What is this combination of words I’ve never seen before??]]

John brushed his blonde hair away from his face, leaning on his knees over the pill he rolled about in his hands. He wiped his tear-stained face with his sleeve. The image of Tom’s head split open on the sidewalk was still freshly seared in his mind, and John could see it every time he closed his eyes. Tom wasn’t his friend. They didn’t even like each other. But no one deserved such a fate. John remembered how he’d moved towards the body, for no reason he could think of, only to stop when one of Vic’s goons, a walking monster truck called Brett, of all names, had aimed at him with his submachine gun. “Whatcha gon’ do, McDonough?” he’d said mockingly, laughing when John had taken a step back, gritting his teeth. There really was nothing he could do, was there? Just like before. Just like always. There was nothing he could do. Or, he did everything he could. Or was it just something he was telling himself to be able to sleep at night? He stifled a sob as another wave of tears flowed down his face. He wasn’t even a man anymore. He was… next to nothing. Might as well, right? The pill was round and pretty big, a perfect sphere in all regards except for one small indentation probably marking the spot where it would start… John didn’t want to think about it. He just wanted to escape the promenade of mistakes that his life was. The image of brains on cement. The bloody body parts scattered in the ruins. He exhaled sharply and swallowed the pill before he could change his mind, washing it down with a bottle of vodka as it made an impossible amount of stops down his oesophagus. Well. It’s done. No taking it back now. All he could do now was wa… The pain began so abruptly it caught him completely unprepared. He doubled down, digging his fingers into his abdomen as it pierced through him, this debilitating power tearing at him from within. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t even scream as the pain spread to every part of his body, seemingly even to his bones… and then suddenly let go and diminished into nothing but odd discomfort in the pit of his stomach.

John pulled himself from the ground and sat back on the crate between one display and another in the Old State House storeroom. He could hear steps over his head, guards shifting places, completely unaware that he’d snuck in here just to fuck with them. Just because Vic said he wasn’t supposed to. And Vic was just two floors up, he thought to himself. Every fiber of John’s being wanted only to get his hands on a gun, go up there, and shoot that fucking bastard in the face. See HIS brains on the sidewalk. But that wasn’t going to happen, was it? He gulped what was left of the vodka all at once–and in another minute, he was on all fours giving it all back to the floor. He cursed and grabbed some tarp to clean it up. Oh, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. Fuck. It was hard enough to get in here under Vic’s guards’ noses; the last thing he needed was to alert them to his presence by gurgling his guts out and screaming in pain. Yet, somehow, through the mind-clouding nausea and head-splitting headache, he knew it was only going to get worse.

While he still could stand up and move around a little, he slid some display cases in to barricade the door. The last thing he needed was to be found out by someone while… Another wave of nausea sent him to his knees. He quickly latched on to a steel bucket he found in the corner, and when he raised his head, he could see there was blood mixed in with the vomit. Fuck. He could feel it pooling in his mouth, filling it with the taste of iron and… rot? Fuck. He spat it out into the bucket. Then, fever hit. His strength was diminishing fast; soon, it was an exorbitant effort to even turn to the other side as he lay on the tarp on the floor, his knees pulled up to his chin like that was supposed to help with the cramps. Ohh, he was never going to tell another woman she was overreacting. This was karma punishing his ignorance, he was sure of it. And boy, did he deserve it on so many levels. Could he just die yet? He didn’t know how long he lay there–hours? days? weeks?–shivering, no, shaking, really, barely able to breathe, pain clawing at his body as he yearned for the end… His mind barely holding on, and yet still insanely clear. It was like living through every pain of his entire life… and surviving. If he could, he would’ve shot himself in the head right now, just to stop the pain, just to finally rid the world of himself; but also, there was something there… pulling on his consciousness like a child tugging at their mother’s skirt as his brother played nearby… something that wanted him to live. Something that stroked his head and said it would all be… just fine. But how could it? Heart pounding like crazy… Fighting for every breath… like living underwater… Water… Holy fuck, he was so thirsty… Everything was pain. Burning… Even through the haze he could feel his skin… falling off. Every move hurt more than the last, but… was he even moving? Or was he swimming? What was that?… Green skies?… A child…? What…?

When he awoke, he immediately retched out a dark, thick puddle of whatever was left of his stomach, apparently. Everything was… blurry and dark… Ugh, he still wasn’t fully there. Where was he, actually? Old State House? But… Fuck, he was so out of it. Even the worst trips he’d ever had were never this… Never like this. The pain was mostly gone now, though. At least that. John pulled himself from the tarp and saw his silhouette still perfectly painted on it in what looked like watered-down blood and… pieces of him. His hair was spread like an aureola around the place where his head just lay. John wiped his face and nearly jumped out of his skin when he pulled off a good part off his nose straight off his head. He dropped in on the tarp. “What the actual fuck?” he mumbled. That was not how he expected this to go. As he pulled himself up on shaky arms, he suddenly felt how insanely hungry he was. Thankfully, he brought some food with him when he was coming down here, though tatoes were no longer an option. At least… Holy shit. His gaze fell on his blurry reflection in one of the cleaner display cases and John couldn’t help but stare at how much had changed. There was a bony ridge jutting out from where he’d just pulled his nose off. His eyes were pitch black. Every bit of hair he ever had was gone. He couldn’t help but check, but yeah, down there, too. Geez, he should grow up. For some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes off of that reflection. It still seemed surreal. But then, the world around still felt surreal, too. Was it really him? Did he really…? He stared at his hands, covered in scars and red burns. Hissed, pulling off some fingernails that still held on, even though crooked and clearly dead. God… What has he done to himself? He fell back to his knees. His heart was pounding as he buried his face in his hands. It wasn’t supposed to be like this… This was supposed to fix him… or kill him. He was supposed to be dead. He didn’t deserve to live anyway, not after everything that had…

A shiver went through him. There was a hand stroking his head. He looked up and his black gaze fell into his mother’s warm, gray eyes. “It’ll all be fine,” she said with a comforting smile. “I still love you, baby, even if you’re someone else. It wasn’t your fault. None of it.” Then John blinked and she was gone, and for a second, he felt debilitatingly alone. But he wasn’t, was he? He wasn’t the only disembodied, homeless bastard in this town, in this world. But they were all huddled up, beaten down. Even though all it would take was for one single person to just… get up. And if there was anything John ever did wrong, it was waiting for someone else to get up first. It was right there in front of him the entire time. ‘John Hancock’ written in faded, fancy letters above that silly outfit he’d laughed at before… all this. Before John Hancock. Might as well, right?

> Epilogue: “Hi, Timmy, and thanks for the help,” he said to the drunk drifter he’d paid to keep an eye out for the guards when he’d been sneaking in. “Huuh?” Timmy replied, eyeing him mistrustfully. “Who the fuck are you? Where’s McDonough?” “He’s gone,” John replied, reveling in what he was about to say. “I’m John Hancock now. And don’t worry, pal…” He patted his shoulder. “…I’m gonna fight for us.”

[kisstheburnsaway]

Crazy, He Calls Me

Original post: HERE

Anonymous asked: Companions and phone sex 👀 are they good at it? what do they say?

[[For starters, I’d like to thank you for making my AU-hating arse think up how in all hells would “phone” sex even work in the Wasteland; that’s exactly how I wanted to spend these last few days. Second, this barely counts anyway. Take it or leave it.]]

[[Also, mild NSFW ahead. Well, you did say “sex” at me. Own it.]]

Cait: Sole gave her one of the better-looking Pip-Boys from Vault 88 after they were finished with their business there, and Cait got almost as addicted to it as she had been to Psycho and was now to Sole. Honestly, it was definitely one of the most useful devices she’d ever gotten her hands on, including that one time when she’d found a still-working vibrator in one of the old hotels. Anyways, thinking back to that time and to how now, typically, she didn’t need one… but… Well, it could always be better in some way, right?

So one day, when Sole was busy with running around and talking to people, Cait told them she’d be in the nearest bar, but she hid in one of the alleys and recorded a holotape which she then slipped into Sole’s gear when they were sleeping.

Sole found it the next day when they were on the road, pulling it out of their coat pocket with honest surprise on her face. Given that they usually stored the holotapes they’d found back at home as soon as they could, it must’ve really been surprising to find one that escaped that scrutiny. Cait watched them out of the corner of her eye as they inserted the tape into their Pip-Boy.

“Oi, love, I was just thinkin’ about you,” Cait’s voice spoke up. Sole threw them a surprised glance, but Cait pretended not to hear or see anything. The tape continued: “And I was thinkin’ how nice your body feels next to me. How good it feels to go down at you to wake you up from a bad dream in the middle of the night. And how good your hands feel when they’re runnin’ all over me body. Mmm…”

That was the end of the tape. Sole didn’t say anything or follow up on it in any way. Except next day it was Cait who found a tape in her gear, and this time it was her heart beating like crazy when she put it in her Pip-Boy. She looked at Sole, but they conveniently pretended not to see anything.

“My dear, the truth is that if you want me, all you need to do is spread your legs and ask nicely. I’m more than happy to fulfill your every desire, whatever it might be. My hands on your body is just the beginning…”

Soon, the idea of recording indecent tapes and hiding them in one another’s gear turned into a sort of a silly game of “whoever gives in first”, which at least more often than not ended with them passionately fucking in their tent at night. Cait couldn’t complain.

Curie: Back when Curie had been a Ms. Nanny, she’d helped Sole download the e-mail program framework from University Point’s terminals. And for that, once they got back home, she’d received her own terminal because, as Sole said, “she contributed and she deserved it”. Fast-forward to a few months later, to a settlement-wide party to celebrate Sole’s birthday, which, organised by Hancock, very quickly turned into drunken revelry. Sole, once they’d had a few drinks, wouldn’t let Curie out of their sight, putting their arm around her and pulling her along wherever they’d go. Curie didn’t mind much—it was indeed an interesting occasion to observe people’s behavior and listen to their stories when they were intoxicated, even if she only sipped a single drink that didn’t work on her synth body anyway.

A few days later, Sole was busying themself with some spring cleaning when they’d heard a chime of a new e-mail from their terminal. It was from Curie, and the title said, “Experimentation Schedule”. Very benign. Also, misguiding.

“My dear Sole,

I have decided upon the schedule of our upcoming experimentation and herefore sending you a draft just like you asked for. I know of many things that you also like to ask for, so I included them in this draft. The schedule for next week is as follows…

On Monday, we shall engage in chemical testing. I would like to take pH-measure of your bodily fluids, most notably the saliva and vaginal fluid. But as we lack proper analytic tools for such tests, I am forced to resolve to using my tongue. I should hope the testing will be most enjoyable.

On Tuesday, we will perform some stress tests. This is most important for the control of your heart and whatever effects your new lifestyle and habits have on it. I would be very unhappy to skip these tests as it is your heart that brings me the most joy in life. The testing will involve exerting much physical effort and passive intake of fluids, administered through my new mouth-to-mouth technique.

On Wednesday, there shall be a physical examination. It is most important to do monthy check-ups and control how your body heals after the injuries it so often sustains. The pre-requisite of this exam is that you are fully unclothed as there should be no physical barriers between the doctor and her patient. Also, in order to keep you from losing precious warmth, we shall make sure your circulation is properly stimulated, allowing you to regulate your temperature more efficiently.

On Thursday, I will show you some washing techniques, to help you keep hygiene at minimal cost when you are traveling. Seeing as proper hygiene is the most important to living a healthy life, I believe this to be one of the most important activity of the week. It will take place in the shower of your home at 5 PM and continue throughout the night.

On Friday, I will teach you about proper hydration and nutrition with a specially prepared breakfast we will consume upon waking up. Once you are properly nourished, we will put this new lifestyle regime to the test with another stress test.

On Saturday, we shall take a long walk through the wilderness and study what we encounter along the way. Getting acquainted with one’s surroundings and environment is an important step to implementing a healthier lifestyle. We will get acquainted very well.

On Sunday we shall take the day off from experimentation and enjoy a quiet night together. As play is also quite important in training of one’s problem-solving skills and hand-eye coordination, I will provide several devices designed to help with the training.

That is everything I have planned for our next week together. I will be impatiently waiting for your approval of this schedule and begin preparations immediately.

Yours forever,

Curie”

Sole didn’t give their approval right away. They needed to go take a cold shower first.

Danse: [[Warning: borderline heresy. Sorry not sorry.]]

Surprisingly, Danse holds the black-belt of phone sex. Sole was shocked when he laughed at their drunken descriptions of their biweekly sessions with their spouse when they used to serve. Granted, Danse had a few too much to drink as well, but there was an unpalpable tang of sincerity to the story he told. Specifically, he recalled that in his first squad, back under the command of Paladin Krieg, he and Cutler would occasionally—and by ‘occasionally’ he meant ‘often’—spout sexual things at each other through the comm-links while the rest of the squad was choking with laughter. And when Sole asked what sort of things, Danse, blushing a little and with an intro of “Oh, we were young and stupid, and it was usually Cutler initiating these wildly inappropriate conversations”, gave them a recap of one of their conversations which went something like this:

“Oh, Danse, you mighty, mighty man… Oh, the things I’d let you do to me at night in my quarters. Over.”

“Yes, Cutler? Like what? Over.”

“Like at first, I’d let you put your hands on me… Over.”

“And what would you be wearing, Cutler? Over.”

“I’d have absolutely nothing on. I’d have undressed and washed and gotten all prepared for you, my lovely Danse. Over.”

“Mm, I’m starting to get behind this idea. I’d definitely use those hands for the betterment of mankind. Over.”

“And after my mankind couldn’t take any more betterment, what would you do? Over.”

(There was no way at this point that everyone in the squad wasn’t laughing, even Paladin Krieg.)

“I would continue our… training exercise. Move on to other locations. Over.”

“Oh, what sort of locations? Over.”

“Wherever you’d want me, my beloved Cutler. As long as you spoke up. Over.”

“Oh, Danse… Over.”

“Speak up, Cutler! Over.”

“Oh, Danse, but there are several unoccupied locations here! What do we do? Over.”

“We shall explore them one by one, no matter how unusual. Over.”

“Yes, Danse, keep telling me. Keep ordering me. I want you to be my Paladin tonight. Over.”

(You should’ve seen Krieg’s face at this point. Priceless.)

“Take my uniform off, Cutler. Over.”

“Gladly, my Paladin. Right away. Over.”

“Now bend over. Over.”

“Please, my Paladin, do whatever you want to me. Over.”

“I will, Cutler. You just relax. Over.”

“Yes, put it in me, put it in! I can’t wait!… Over.”

“Oh, Cutler, you’re so delightfully tight… Over.”

“And you, my Paladin Danse, you are… semper invicta. Over.”

“You make me such, brother. Ad victoriam. Over.”

“Yes, ad victoriaaam!”

…Upon getting their breath back, Sole asked why Danse even engaged in those conversations if they were so ‘wildly inappropriate’. Danse had no answer for them.

[[Did I say ‘mild NSFW’?? Can’t seem to recall…]]

Deacon: Deacon was something else. First time Sole found the note in the dead drop, obviously written in his handwriting, they couldn’t really believe it, especially since it wasn’t addressed to them. But really, who else could it be for? Sole stifled a sting of jealousy as their eyes glided along the lines: “If you were here right now, I would be pushing my dick down your throat. But since you’re not, I can only wallow in my loneliness”. Ah, that bold, bald idiot.

As they scribbled their response on the back of the note and put it back in the dead drop and especially as they closed the container behind them, they felt a rush of something… Like a thrill. Like when having sex in public. Their thoughts sprinted to that time at the park, with… but it was a long time ago. There was no point reliving it. They threw another glance at the container and left.

A few days later, Sole visited Railroad’s HQ, and lo and behold, Deacon was there too. They picked up the pace—it wasn’t often these days that they could see each other, what with his work as a field agent and their own duties and activities. But halfway through the room they saw that Deacon was actually hunched over what looked like a pile of papers, sitting on his mattress, head in hands.

“What’s up with him?” Sole asked no one in particular, but it was Doc Carrington who almost jumped out of his seat to answer.

“He got about twenty replies to that stupid note he left in every dead drop we have… I think he’s crying.”

“Oh, shut up,” they mumbled, but threw him a grin. Sometimes they thought they were the only ones who actually liked Carrington, even for all his flaws. But now they navigated over to Deacon’s mattress and before he even noticed them there, grabbed one of the notes at random and read the reply. “Oh, yes, Deacon, I’d love to gulp you down like a bottle of whiskey!”, it said. It wasn’t Sole’s reply. They looked at the pile of notes beneath their feet and Deacon’s miserable face, trying to stifle laughter.

“You should know my handwriting, honey,” they said. Deacon scoffed and threw some of the notes in the air like the dramatic actress that he was.

“You never handwrote a single thing to me!” he yelped. Sole patted his glistening baldness comfortingly.

“Now, now, it’s okay,” they said. “I didn’t reply to this silly thing anyway.”

Deacon looked up at them, squinted… “Just leave the lying to me, honey,” he said. “You’re lousy at it, I’m sorry to say.”

Sole chuckled. “Okay, fine, have it your way and keep looking for a note you have no idea about. Take a guess based only on how well you think you know me.” Deacon pouted, just a tiny little bit. “Or…” Sole said, leaning to his ear. “You can just pick a few of them out and then come find me, and we can play them out…” They bit the node of his ear playfully and walked off, leaving him slack-jawed and red up to the brow. When they looked around, they could see him frantically sorting through the notes.

Hancock: Since Sole noticed a ham radio at Hancock’s Old State House, they realized that would be a perfect way to communicate when they weren’t together—‘cause God knows Hancock always found a better way to communicate when they were. However, Sole didn’t account on him interrupting them in the middle of the night in the workshop as they were building new defense turrets for their settlement. And it was going really great until the ham radio crackled and bespoke:

“Hey, sunshine!” And then his voice got lower, huskier, and sexier: “Hope you’re naked over there ‘cause I sure am.”

Sole grabbed the microphone and said, “Goddammit, Hancock, you know I’m in the workshop. If I was naked here, I’d be up for losing a few body parts, like you.”

“And we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Sole could almost hear him wink over the radio. “But still, how about I keep you… company?”

Sole didn’t reply.

“I mean, after you finish whatever you’re doing, maybe you’ll wanna operate some heavy machinery.”

“For fuck’s sake, Hancock, stop! I’m trying to work here.”

“Yeah, baby…” He breathed. “I love it when you do it with your hands…”

Sole blushed, getting hot all over, but instead of replying, they just focused on the task at ha… Dammit! The task. Period.

“I miss you, Sole…” Hancock’s voice, with its rasp and tone, and slightly distorted by the radio, was reaching Sole on a wholly different level of being. “...And little Han-cock misses you, too.”

“HANCOCK, YOU LITTLE SHIT!”

“Don’t call him names! It’s okay, little one. Daddy will stroke you with love.”

Sole decided to ignore him. Just ignore him. It’s okay. He’s gonna get off that… Dammit! Come off… DAMMIT! He’s gonna be done… D-A-M-M-I-T. Nevermind.

“Sole, darling? Why aren’t you saying anything? Are you masturbating?”

“Why, Hancock, ‘DARLING’, why aren’t you stopping this trainwreck? Are you high?”

“Damn right I am.” And the shameless confidence in his voice honestly turned Sole on more than anything else he’d said so far. But they weren’t going to give in so easily. He wasn’t going to win them over with just the sound of his voice alone.

And as Sole returned to building the turret—realizing, along the way, they’d put more than one part in the wrong place because of being distracted by that irradiated idiot—that irradiated idiot took an audible breath, as if to calm down, and then said, “Alright, sunshine, I’mma go sleep it off. You have a good night and I hope you dream about me kissing every inch of your perfect body and sliding myself into you exactly the way you like. Or you into me, whatever floats your boat, love.” And with another crackle, he was gone. And Sole was left with their thoughts racing and heart pounding.

MacCready: Since RJ brought Duncan to the Commonwealth so that they could both have something at least resembling a real family again, as much as this world permitted it, one big problem arose: they couldn’t travel together anymore, not when one of them had to stay behind and take care of Duncan. That, in turn, brought a lot of late nights, staying up worrying about one another, tension, and eventually arguments. Sole knew these originally stemmed from love, but it was still so… So they decided to look for solutions. After two weeks they managed to modify a baby monitor to transmit both ways and link it to Sole’s Pip-Boy. That way they’d have contact with one another, and a way to send a distress call should anything go wrong at home. And then that bit Sole in the ass, too.

One day, early morning, Sole woke up at their camp they’d only set up in the first place because they wanted to make one more stop before returning back home—and also, it had been late when they were setting it up, and even though they were maybe half an hour away from home, they didn’t want to wake the boys just to have to leave the next morning again. So they made camp, went to sleep, and then woke up at, like, fucking dawn to RJ’s voice spewing crap through their Pip-Boy. At first they thought he was making sense, that maybe the house was under attack, but then RJ said, “The places I’d kiss you in… ’Cause I miss you and I need some masturbation material.”

He WHAT? Sole jerked up and began packing up the camp, at the same time teasing RJ on the line, “I wish I could be there, too, honey, tracing kisses down your firm chest…”

RJ moaned softly, “Oh, yes. I’d love to feel you close. Your hand down my pants…”

“Down your what? I’d have undressed you a long time ago. And tied you to the bed. I’d love to have you completely at my mercy.”

The groan he let out made Sole’s lips twist into a satisfied, vengeful smile. No one, and they meant it—NO ONE would be waking them up at dawn.

“Uhh… What about Duncan, though?” he asked, his voice somewhat shaky.

“I’d leave him with Dogmeat, lock the door… Dogmeat would let us know if Duncan was coming. Don’t you worry. I have it all thought out.”

“Mm. Please tell me you wouldn’t just tease me the entire time.”

“Of course not. First thing I’d do would be to push you all the way down my throat, as far as it would go.”

“Holy f…” he cleared his throat like that was going to help. Sole was now walking briskly with a huge grin on their face.

“And then I’d do you exactly the way you like. Except you wouldn’t be cumming until I let you. And there would be nothing you could do, tied up as you’d be. Mm, thinking about that body of yours splayed out on the bed. Just… yummy.”

“Oh, goodness, Sole. Please come home as soon as you can.”

“I will, love. I will.”

And barely a few minutes later, Sole rushed into the house and moved about as quietly as they could as to not wake Duncan up; they found RJ in the bedroom, hiding behind the bed with his head thrown back, dick in hand. And Sole just stood there above him with their hands propped up on their hips until RJ finally opened his eyes and saw them, immediatelly getting all flustered and embarrassed.

“Hey, b-but in my defense, look what you did to me!” he mumbled, the first fully coherent sentence in the full-minute-long babble.

“Yeah?” Sole shoves his hand down their pants. “Well, look what you did to me!”

Nick: When Sole told him about how they’d used to play with their spouse over the phone, Nick raised his brow and didn’t say anything. The topic never came up again. [[Like, let’s be real, he would SO not be up to it. Leave poor Nick alone.]]

Piper: Sole and Piper never talked about what Sole did with their spouse, how their life was before the war or any of that stuff. It was as if Piper filled in the blanks herself and correct or not, she was happy with it. As if it pained her less to work with those lies than have to listen to Sole’s life about someone else and then see that moment when they reach the end of the story and realize it’s never coming back. The moment when their tearful eyes close over a fake smile as they say, “But I have you now, Red. So it’s all good.” It’s never all good. So she preferred her stories.

But even so, whether it was by some bizarre coincidence or because she really did find out about it somehow, one day Piper did the exact same thing their spouse used to. One day, a messenger came up to Sole and handed them a sealed letter with their name on it. The shock of getting anything from a random caravan driver who had apparently recognised her easily but whom she’d never met before, and all that in the middle of nowhere in Capital Wasteland—that shock dissipated as they opened the makeshift envelope an found an actual love letter from Piper.

“My Beloved Sole,

I have never done something like this before. But these last few weeks when you’ve been gone have been hard. I can’t pretend you’re just around the corner anymore. I can’t imagine waking up next to you every morning. Last night I awoke from a nightmare which I could barely remember, but it was a dream of you never returning to me again. I’m scared. I know you’re not going to be back anytime soon, but if I were to receive a reply from you, even a short ‘I’m okay’ note, I’d sleep much better.

And I’m sorry for writing this, but I miss you. I can’t help it. I can’t even write a good article anymore, so you better get your shapely ass back here soon! My livelihood is on the line!

Speaking of that shapely ass… Ahh, nevermind. I just want you back. I want you next to me. I want to be able to kiss you and touch you, and be with you, and I swear on the Wall, when you return, I’m not letting you out of bed for AT LEAST a week. You’ll repay me in earnest for every minute I had to spend all alone, pressing my hand to my lips as to not let a sound out as I’d push the other down my… Or up. Depends on the perspective, I guess. And all of that thinking of you.

I need you. Get back soon and stay safe.

With love, Piper PS. If someone opens and reads it before it reaches you, I will be SO pissed.”

Sole raised their gaze from above the letters, hand at their own lips as they held back their tears. The caravaneers threw them a weird look from above the fire they all sat around, but didn’t say anything. Piper literally went to Goodneighbor and talked to Daisy, probably in exchange for some favors, to make sure this reached them. Sole ripped a piece of the paper and scribbled a short note before giving it back to the caravan driver, nearly begging him to take it back. The note said: “I’m fine. I love you, too. I promise I’ll be home soon.”

Preston: After the party where Sole literally almost boasted about what phones used to be and what use they made of them with their spouse, Preston was indignant for the rest of the evening. He couldn’t help being jealous. But even so, when they passed out like the adorable idiots they were, Preston was the one to gather them up from the floor and put them to bed. And when he stayed and looked at their sleeping face, so peaceful if not for the quite disturbing muttering, he just somehow wasn’t mad anymore.

“No, don’t touch me…” Sole muttered in their sleep. “Fuck off, whoever you are, there’s a man waiting for me at home…” Preston’s heart fell to his stomach again. But then… “No, his name is My Boyfriend… Now go away.” And Sole turned to the other side and slept soundlessly the rest of the night. When they awoke in the morning with a skull-splitting headache, the first thing they noticed was a glass of water on the nightstand. They gulped the entire thing down, spilling more than some on themselves before they realized there was also a note. It said, “Hey, Li’l Mama, whatcha got on?”

BONUS - Strong: [[Please, don’t. Steer clear. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.]]

I just have this vision in my head, like, a beheaded mole rat used as a crayon, the mask of a pre-war white car his canvas, and those red child-like letters spelling: “Strong like your butt”.

[kisstheburnsaway]

Any Shock They Would Try to Stem

Original post: HERE

Anonymous asked: I know that Hancock is daddy for you but could you please write Romanced Cait reacting to M!Sole having an anxiety attack? 

Trigger Warning: panic / anxiety attack

They heard an unmistakable swish in the air. Cait had just about enough time to see where the raiders were shooting from when Sole brought them both to the ground behind an old dumpster. His broad shoulders obscured her view as he secured her head with his hand, but there was no doubt the mini-nuke landed way too close for her taste. The explosion nearly burst her eardrums. Sole’s Pip-Boy broke into a series of ticks when a wave of radiation passed them. Worse, even though Sole didn’t seem hurt, he stopped moving. Must’ve been unconscious. She slid out from underneath him and quickly threw a grenade into the raiders’ nest before crouching back behind the dumpster. Screams broke out, some shuffling and running, then the boom. And silence. The clank of a weapon falling to the ground from some height. She looked out, then stood up, and still no one was shooting. Must’ve been a good throw.

Silence. Then something weird: quick, desperate breathing. She looked down. Sole wasn’t unconscious. He curled up into a ball, pressed his hands against his ears and hyperventilated.

Cait cursed quietly before falling to her knees at his side. She knew an anxiety attack when she saw one—she’d been there before, mostly during bad Psycho trips. But all that was over now. And now the person she loved most in the world—hell, the only person she loved in the world—was going through that, too. She couldn’t let that happen.

She knew how he felt and she knew exactly what to do—the exact same things she always wished someone would do for her. She grabbed him and propped him up against the nearest wall with all her strength, even though his unresponsive body was like a dead weight. He seemed stuck in a different world… And then she understood. He really was in a different world, in the old world, reliving the time when the nukes first fell, stuck in an endless loop of fear and adrenaline. And all that because of some fucking raider? She got up and threw another grenade into the raider settlement. Fucking wankers. That made her feel a little better, calmer, and definitely more equipped to handle Sole.

First, she had to pull him out of that. So she kneeled next to him and put her hands on his hands, his wrist, trying to gently pull his hands away from his head, or maybe at least make him look at her. But to no avail—Sole was utterly, completely lost in his panic.

“Now, Sole, darlin’, don’t do this to me,” she pleaded, getting pretty scared herself, though she’d never admit it even to herself. “Sole. Sole, look at me.”

Only after a while of repeating that and putting her face right in front of him did she manage to get him to shift his gaze to her with at least some recognition. She could swear his eyes pleaded for help, even if his lips were still parted in shallow breaths.

“It’s fine. You’re fine. I’m right here. You’re safe.” She grabbed his hands and he squeezed them so hard his knuckles went white. She ignored the pain. “It’s over now. This is gonna pass. You just keep breathin’, a’right? Here. Breathe with me.”

And she began inhaling and exhaling as slowly and carefully as she could with her heart beating like crazy in her chest. She wasn’t used to being the one others leaned on for support. It scared her more than anything to know she was the only thing standing between Sole and the hellish trap his mind now was.

“That’s right, love,” she said as he kept going steadily. Soon, his muscles relaxed and his body went as the fear left him exhausted. Cait sat on his lap and put her face next to his, brushing his cheek with her hand. “I’m right here with ya.”

And then finally, as his breathing returned to normal, Sole, wrapped his arms around her and said, “Thanks for the save, tough guy.” Cait couldn’t hold back a proud smile.

[kisstheburnsaway]

I Just Want to Start...

...a Christmas in your heart. So, this is how it all started. With a Christmas Special.

Original post: HERE & HERE

Anonymous asked: WHAT DO YOU THINK ROMANCED COMPANIONS WOULD BE LIKE WAKING UP ON CHRISTMAS MORNING AND WHAT GIFT WOULD THEY BRING SOLE IM YELLING BECAUSE IM THINKING OF ALL THE CUTE FLUFF STUFF

(And there was another ask like this, too.)

[[Damn, I turned this into an f!Sole before I realised what I was doing. So sorry, I’ll do better next time, I pwomise! ;__;]]

[[Also, sorry this turned to be as long as an average Ghoul lifespan…]]

Sole awoke one morning to find the world covered in snow. At first, she felt surreal, like in the old world, like just in a second she would hear Shaun shifting in his crib, crying for his mommy. But it wasn’t Nate who was still asleep next to her, and it wasn’t 2077 anymore. It was just the thick layer of snow and halos of icicles hid everything that, up till now, did a very good job of reminding her the world had changed: ruined houses, dead trees with broken branches, ubiquitous debris, and even the yelloweed grass. She reached for her Pip-Boy, as she did every morning, accidentally turning the knob to “Data”, and if it wasn’t for that, she wouldn’t even realize it was 25thof December already. And then it hit her: this would be her first Christmas without Nate, without Shaun… without her family.

Cait

“Hey, darlin’, you okay?” Cait sat up next to her, wrapping the bedding around her naked body to protect herself from the crispy tang in the air. Sole put her arm around her and nodded mindlessly, though the words “yeah, I’m fine” somehow didn’t want to leave her throat. Cait’s eyes wandered to the Pip-Boy. “Oh, it’s Christmas, ain’t it?”

Sole laughed softly, though didn’t really feel it. “You forgot? Really?” She didn’t mention she would have almost forgotten it herself.

“Hey, when you haven’t any real holidays yer entire life, they just slip by.” She sounded almost angry, but then she looked to the side, maybe even blushed a little, and said, “Well, I ain’t gonna spend it complainin’. I’m glad I have me darlin’ to share it with.” And with a kiss on Sole’s cheek, she jumped out of bed and opened the trunk she kept her things in. “Here. I made this for ya. I know it ain’t much, but… I’m not as good with me hands as you are.”

Sole turned the bladed knuckles in her hands. They were chrome-finished, polished to a shine, and the blades were so visibly sharp Sole didn’t feel the need to check. On the bottom, on the surface that would rest against her palm, Cait had engraved: “Give ‘em a taste, love” in surprisingly elegant letters. Sole started to suspect she had had Sturges help her with these.

“Not much?” she teased. “I love them. Come here.” She pulled Cait back to the bed and gave her a kiss, which soon turned into a much hungrier and sexier make-out session, until they finally pulled away, albeit with some effort. “Now, what do you say we go for a walk to the Combat Zone and make Tommy spend Christmas with us? And we could have MacCready come with us.”

Cait looked at her in such surprise, she didn’t even notice her eyes teared up a little. “Nothing would make me happier, luv.” And after another second of staring at Sole’s face in wonder, she smiled with clear, unbridled joy, a smile Sole so rarely got to see on Cait’s face, and said, “It’s nice, y’know, having a family.”

Curie

“I have never seen snow before, did you know?” Curie said, standing at the window, staring at the white roofs of Diamond City’s buildings. Sole walked over to her to embrace her from behind. She put her chin on Curie’s shoulder, looking out at the view, and suddenly all the hard work she’d put into installing the window was worth it. The fluff was still falling, slowly, gently drifting to the ground, clinging to the Christmas lights drawn across the square, and the children played below, having a snowball battle without care for any collateral damage to walls and passers-by.

Sole dug her face in Curie’s neck, stifling a cry as she realized she would never get to see Shaun, real Shaun, playing like that. She did adopt the synth Shaun, mostly for Curie’s sake; Curie, upon learning about the feud between the Railroad and the Institute, and how everyone else played into it, had been very concerned about how their relationship could be viewed by others. How Sole could be ostracized or even persecuted for loving her. How maybe she didn’t really like being with a synth. So Sole adopted the kid to calm her doubts, show her she really cared; but there was still a nagging voice in the back of her mind making her constantly aware that the ten-year-old boy, now running around Takahashi’s noodle stand in order to get a better angle at the ‘enemy team,’ wasn’t her real son. Even though he acted like one and loved her like one. He wasn’t her own.

But people didn’t know that, except for select few, like Curie, of course, or Nick who had helped her find Shaun in the first place, or X6. Everyone else though she really did find her son at the Institute. Well, they weren’t really wrong.

“As much as I love this, ma belle,” Curie said, pulling Sole out from the dark corners of her mind, “we must get going. He have a lot to do today! You promised me carolling, remember?”

“I do,” Sole replied reluctantly. Oh, Piper was going to have a field day with them.

“But first,” Curie continued, obviously ignoring her tone, “I have made a very special gift for you, mon amour!” She scuttled through the room, leaving Sole completely dumbfounded. They’d been spending every waking moment together for weeks now. When did Curie manage to get her a gift without her noticing? And a hand-crafted one, at that? “Here, unwrap it! I read that unwrapping presents used to be an important tradition before the War. But I’m afraid I had to use pages from a children’s book. It is colorful, yes?”

It was colorful, and pretty. So much that Sole tried her best not to damage the packaging too much, but Curie didn’t seem to mind. What emerged looked somewhat like a leather collar, black, and quite elegant. There was a round piece of platinum at the front which seemed to have a purpose beyond just being a decoration.

“It does something, doesn’t it?” Sole asked, throwing Curie a mistrustful glance.

“Yes, see, if you put it on and press this button, it releases a mild chemical which will stop pain conduction from the neck down. It should make it more comfortable for you to tend to your injuries in the field, when I am not there to help. Professor Scara helped me with the technology. She said it is called ‘a choker’, even though I don’t see why. Still, very useful, no? And I think you will look very mignonne in it.”

“Oh, Curie,” Sole said, almost crying for some reason. “You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. Thank you.”

“I knew you would like it!” Content, she opened the window to shout: “Shaun, mon petit cœur! It is time to come home!” And as she turned back to Sole, “This should be an interesting experiment. We should start with the Science Center, no? My co-workers should be thrilled to have us.”

Sole turned the choker in her hands, feeling the texture of the soft leather, before she put it on the side table. There would be time to test it later. Now, she was about to spend Christmas with her family.

Danse

“What was that about?” Sole heard Hancock’s voice outside the window. “Hell if I know,” Nick replied, their voices getting quieter as they walked away. Sole looked out the window to find Danse standing on the porch.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I smiled,” he replied, causing her to choke with stifled laughter. “And I told them ‘Merry Christmas’. I don’t think they liked it.”

“They were probably just surprised,” she said before walking out to the porch with him and promptly shivering in the cold. Note to self: winter is not the time of year to walk out of the house in nothing but a nightgown. “Oh, shit, it’s cold.”

Danse looked her up and down. “That is indeed the case when you stand barefoot in the snow.” Had he said it, he picked her up against her protests that everyone was going to see—

“It’s just for a second,” he cut her off, dashing to the building across the street. And Sole, holding on to his strong, broad shoulders, suddenly didn’t mind. He set her down near the fire. “I actually have something for you that might be the answer to your problem.” And from a locker, he pulled out… Maxson’s battlecoat?

“Wh… Please tell me you didn’t go back to the Prydwen to kill Elder Maxson for this,” she stuttered out, but as Danse began shaking his head with amusement, she noticed there wasn’t any blood on it, and in fact, there weren’t any sign of wear at all.

“If I did, I wouldn’t be standing here right now,” he replied. “It’s just…” Shock on Sole’s face deepened. She had never heard him not finish a sentence before. “You used to joke about how much you liked Maxson’s coat, so I thought I should make one for you. Like I said once: if you want something, say it, and I’ll make it happen.” And he wrapped the coat around her bare shoulders, and she marveled at how warm it was, how well it fit her, how even the lining was just right, and how…

“You made this? On your own?” She still couldn’t believe it, even holding the damn thing in her hands.

“Well, they always encouraged us to work on our uniforms, and turns out, leather isn’t much different. I hope you like it.”

“Oh, Danse, I love it!” She jumped into his arms again just to give him a deep kiss. And feel his biceps, because why not. Danse in turn embraced her waist and hugged her close to steady her. She could feel his firm chest on hers even through his clothes. As always, it made her remember Nate, just like every time Danse put on his power armor, she remembered Nate in his, and, just as always, she couldn’t help thinking about how lucky she was. This is where she’d always belonged: in a soldier’s arms. “Thank you so much, hun’.”

Danse stumbled back into the wall as he put his forehead against hers, closed his eyes, and momentarily lost his balance a bit; but Sole wasn’t worried. Even if they had fallen, Danse would make sure she landed safe on him. Nevertheless, there was something desperate in how he longed for her touch.

“Honey? What’s going on?” she asked gently, her hands against his face. He squeezed her waist harder, to the point it almost hurt, but then he set her down again.

“I want to tell you how important this is for me,” he said softly, looking straight into her eyes. His fingers played with a strand of her hair, almost as if on their own. “The last real Christmas I had was… all the way back in Rivet City, with Cutler. Later, when we joined the Brotherhood… There always seemed to be more important things to do. Holidays just seemed… silly. We’d give each other small gifts for a few years, the even that stopped, and then he…” And now, for the first time since always, she heard his voice break. She rubbed his face with her hand, trying to give him some sort of comfort. He took a breath, then continued, “I just want you to know, this means a lot. Those memories with Cutler are some of the most precious ones I have, and I feel blessed to be able to add to them with you. You make me feel the same way he did: like I have a family again.”

Hancock

Sole turned and looked at Hancock, still sleeping soundly, his scarred lips slightly parted in steady breaths. His eyes were moving as he mumbled something along the lines of, “what the fucking fuck happened to this mutfruit?” Sole should have laughed, but somehow, it only made her feel worse. She didn’t want to wake him from this obviously thrilling dream, but… She snuggled up to him, put her head on his bare chest, the warm ridges and crests scraping against her cheek. If she felt chilly before, that was now completely replaced with the heat emanating from Hancock. She clinged to him with her entire body, blaming herself as he stirred awake.

“Hey, sunshine, what’s going on?” He threw his arm around her, squeezing her waist reassuringly.

“I’m sorry I woke you. I didn’t—”

“Come on, getting to spend more time with you? Nothing I’d like more In the world.” He kissed her forehead and she nuzzled her face into his neck, breathing in his scent. “So what’s up? Why are you like this? Come on, it’s Christmas.”

“I know…”

“Oh… Ohh.” He pulled her up onto himself until she was on top of him. He cupped her face in his hands, placed another gentle kiss on her lips. “I love you, Sole. I know it’s not enough to fill the hole your family left in you, b— No, shit, don’t cry.”

Sole couldn’t help it. She clung to him again, bawling all over his shoulder, suddenly so overwhelmed by every bad and good thing she felt, she couldn’t hold it in anymore. She’d been gathering it up for the last three months, never talking much about it, never letting it out, because in this world, everyone’s lives sucked, and most of them much worse than hers. She had it good, compared to some. And she really did believe she’d left her old life behind, since this one was, surprisingly, so much simpler. But apparently not.

Hancock held her close, rocking them a little as he brushed her hair and gave it a few kisses. She still couldn’t believe how well he understood, even though she knew it was killing him inside to see her still pining for the husband she had lost. For a dead man. Unless she found a way to truly put Nate out of her mind, Hancock would always feel like he does now: like he comes second to her. And yet, he remained at her side, loving her unconditionally. Saying how he didn’t deserve her, when truly, it was her who didn’t deserve him.

“I love you, too,” she said finally, having regained control over her shaky breathing. “And I’m so, so sorry.”

“Now, don’t talk crap like that.” Hancock brushed her hair aside as she raised her tear-stained face to look him in the eye. “You had a rough year. Rough two hundred years. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

She snuggled up to him again, suddenly unable to speak again. Hancock gave her a moment which he seemed to enjoy just as much as she did, and then said: “Okay, that’s enough of being two emotional wrecks, we need to get going,” as he lazily slapped her ass.

Sole sat up, too surprised to throw him a black look. “What? Why?”

“We’re having a Christmas party at the Third Rail. Didn’t I tell you?” She shook her head. “I could swear I told you. I did tell you to bring a dress, didn’t I? Well, anyway, it won’t be much of a party without everyone’s favorite mayor making an appearance, so why don’t you just…” And then he bluntly rolled her off of him. Sole, with a pained sigh, kept rolling until she almost fell off the bed and scrambled to her feet.

“Oomph… fuck.” She leaned against the wall, feeling her head explode, but like, in the distance.

“You alright?”

“Just a bit dizzy. And a headache.”

Hancock came over to kiss her temple, but snorted along the way: “You’re spending way too much time with me.” But then a thought occurred to him and he frowned. “Or maybe you’re sick?”

“Bullshit. I’m just tired.” As soon as she could move normally again, she began dressing, much to Hancock’s theatrical anguish. “It’s not like last night brought me much sleep, exactly…”

“Yeah, sure, make it all my fault,” he teased as he pulled on his coat and fastened the belt across his chest. “You little vixen, you.”

Sole chuckled. It absolutely was not his fault. He had just about fallen asleep when she’d decided to jump his bones. Oh, the poor bed.

After several minutes of him constantly interrrupting her as she tried to get dressed, they finally went down to the Third Rail, where the entire populace of Goodneighbor was already gathered. As soon as Hancock walked in, everyone welcomed him with an earth-shattering ‘huzzah!’ raising their glasses, which, as Sole suspected, were full thanks to his generosity. Oh, how easy it was to make these people happy. Hancock waited for the commotion to die down—someone handed him a glass of wine in the meantime and Hancock now thumped his fingernails against it.

“I’d like to make an announcement,” he said. “One a bit more elaborate than my usual ‘of the people, for the people’.” Everyone cheered anyway. “Okay, okay. Come on, folks. I just wanna say that Goodneighbor may have started as a place, but now it’s about you. The people. Without you, there would be no Goodneighbor. And it makes me more happy than I can say to be able to call myself your mayor and call you my family.” Cheers and ‘aww’s broke out again.

“We love you, too, Hancock!” a man shouted.

“Now, now, don’t get too familiar, Joe, you’re not my type.” Hancock winked and Sole could swear at least half the crowd pretended to faint while the rest laughed heartily. “Not to mention, and here we’re coming up on the second part of my announcement that most of you probably know, I’m already spoken for.” Saying that, he pulled Sole in closer. The crowd cheered on, albeit less loudly, and some of them murmured in an unsurprised agreement. Sole’s eyes met MacCready’s, who was sitting at the bar, and he smiled and put his glass up to her.

“Now I’d like you all to come see the gift I got this one. Y’know, in hopes she’ll make good use of it and come visit us a little more often.” People laughed again, and then most of them followed as Hancock led Sole out with his hand on her waist.

“What the hell did you do, Hancock?” she murmured, blushing. For someone who got involved in so much, she didn’t necessarily like being the center of attention.

“You’ll see, sunshine,” he replied in that low voice of his. Son of a bitch. They walked out into the cold, crispy air, smelling of smoke and winter. Snow crunched beneath their feet as they took a left turn around the corner of the Old State House… and then she saw it. A beautiful silver vertibird, clearly freshly washed and polished, was sitting on the roof of Hotel Rexford. An enormous red bow was somehow tied around the pilot’s cabin.

“What the fuck? John? What the actual fuck?” she stuttered, and he only stood there and grinned proudly. “You can’t be serious! Whaa… How did you even…?”

“You know how Gunners will do anything for caps?… Yeah.”

“You went to the Gunners?!”

“More like contacted them via a messenger, arranged a meet on neutral gr… Oh, stop freaking out. They’re pretty reasonable when they hear the caps jingle, and they do keep their gear in good condition.” Sole was still shaking her head at him with her eyes widened in honest shock, so he continued, “What was I supposed to do? Go to the Brotherhood?”

“How about get me a smaller, more… manageable gift?”

“Stop whining.” He kissed her to shut her up. Some of the more intoxicated partyers cheered them on as they rode the line between propriety and shamelessly making out in public. Hancock pulled back a little, but still stayed close, and when he had her so close, his rough hands on both sides of her head, suddenly there was no one else in the entire world. “It’s your fault, you know. Should never have said you’d like one of your own. You should’ve known I’d strive to make it happen.” Sole let out an incoherent babble, hiding her red face in her hands. Hancock laughed and kissed her forehead. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go spend Christmas with family.”

BONUS:

As they descended back into the Third Rail, this time led by a small group of drunk Neighborhood Watch guards, singing a bawdy song as they stumbled down the stairs, Hancock and Sole were suddenly approached by Magnolia.

“I wanted to say, I’m happy for you two,” she said before they could even greet her. “You…” She put her finger on Sole’s chest. “You are one hell of a woman. I would know.” She winked and laughed with that perfectly calculated chuckle. “Take care of him, dear. And you, Hancock—don’t fuck it up.”

“Oh, Magnolia. I would never.” Again, with unbridled joy, he kissed Sole’s temple with such exhilaration, she couldn’t help but laugh. But she also couldn’t tear her eyes off of Magnolia’s fiery gaze. There seemed to be something else.

“But, still, in memory of old times…” She threw Sole a meaninful look, making her blush again, as she reached underneath her dress to take out a small package. “I’d like you to have this. I think it’ll suit you well.” And, saying that, Magnolia left a kiss on Sole’s cheek and went on to take her place at the microphone and entertain the crowd as only she could. Sole opened the small packet to find a ruby-eyed ring with intricate engravings around the socket. Hell, it seemed to be older even than her. She stared at it in disbelief until Hancock gently took it from her.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” He said only before slipping it on her finger and then placing an almost theatrical kiss on her hand. “Now, milady… Shall we dance?”

Sole laughed and let him lead her down to the main room of the Third Rail. No one paid much attention to them anymore, busy with their own friends and activities. Only Whitechapel Charlie dipped his hat to them as they went past. They found a fairly quiet corner in MacCready’s VIP room, and as they danced slowly to Magnolia’s voice seeping under the door, singing her special interpretations of the Christmas carols, Hancock embraced her close and kissed her neck gently, sending warm shivers down her spine. Until he suddenly jerked his head up.

“Wait. What did Magnolia mean by ‘old times’?” he asked, watching her carefully. Sole blushed at the memory of Magnolia’s scent and deft fingers.

“Nothing much, love,” she said immediately, but Hancock’s grin made it clear he figured it out anyway. She laughed at the face he made. Hancock kissed her deeply, and then instead of dancing, she was in his arms again as he put his hand on the back of her head and refused to let go. And when they pulled back, they were both panting hard, and she could see his thoughts written clearly on his parted lips and lustful gaze.

“Goddammit, John,” she said immediately. “We are not doing this in MacCready’s room with everyone on the other side of the door.”

“Mm, you’re right…” he mumbled, but still didn’t let her go. “But why not?”

MacCready

She allowed herself several minutes to shed a few tears over the life she used to have, but then a pitter-patter of small feet sounded in the short hallway, and she had just barely enough time to wipe her face in the bedding before Duncan ran into the bedroom.

“IT’S CHRISTMAS!” he shrieked in a tone that nearly burst her eardrums, jumping onto the bed. “And there’s snow! Have you seen?”

“Yes,” she chuckled, as if immediately healed by his child-like excitement. “You wanna help me make the food?”

“I would…” He sat up and wrinkled his nose with an undecisive pout. “But I’d also like to go outside… I mean, there’s so much SNOW!”

“Right, you usually wouldn’t see this much, would you? Okay, then, why don’t you get dressed warm and run down to Miss Alice and get some razorgrain and fruit? Actually, take whatever she’ll give you, your dad will probably figure out a use for it.”

She waited for Duncan to say, “Oh, okay, I guess” and leave to get dressed before she burst out laughing at her own unintended sexual innuendo. Fuck, four days is apparently way too long.

Just an hour and half later, they were both in the kitchen, preparing dough for the cake she had promised Duncan probably a couple of weeks ago. Brahmin was already marinating, carrots and silt beans cooking; she even prepped the corn when she got bored as the dough was rising. Now she was trying her best to make something resembling chocolate icing with the odd-tasting brahmin milk, sweet rolls, sugar bombs, and a pinch of coffee. It wasn’t going so well.

“Duncan! Can you please not?” Sole shouted, gently pushing the boy’s hand away from the dough. “Come on, would you rather eat raw dough or a chocolate cake?”

Duncan was thinking for the longest time before he finally said, reluctantly, “Cake…”, even though he was still eyeing the dough longingly. Sole sighed. “When is Daddy going to be back?” he asked then, and the way he said ‘Daddy’, like he still couldn’t believe the word even as it left his mouth, tore Sole’s heart out of her chest. Well, shit. She didn’t need it anyway.

“Soon, I hope,” she said as normally as she could, but she couldn’t help to glance at the time. RJ had left their house at Sunshine Tidings a few days ago to go find a gift for Duncan. He’d said he would come back in time for Christmas dinner, hell, that he’d even help her make it, but it was already past noon and he still hadn’t come home. Fuck knows where he went in the first place. He might be dead in a ditch somewhere, chewed on by molerats, or… worse—torn to shreds by ferals. She found herself wondering what she’d do if she had to tell Duncan that, and then take care of him alone. Would she even be able to?

Don’t think about it, she told herself. It would be okay. She sent Strong to go with RJ, and these two were pretty much unkillable together. RJ probably miscalculated the time it would take them to get to Goodneighbor and back with Strong slowing him down a little.

“Why don’t you go play with Dogmeat outside?” she asked Duncan, seeing the internal battle over the dough play out clearly on his face. “Just dress warmly and be careful.”

“Okay,” he beamed up at the idea, got ready in the matter of seconds, and shouted “Come on, Doggy!” as he rushed out the door. Dogmeat slid off of his couch, stretched carefully, and followed him out, his muzzle drooping like he wanted to say, “gosh, I’m getting too old for this,” even though he was barely four.

But soon Sole could see the dog rolling in the snow so zealously he rolled off a hill and stopped only at the water pump, hitting it with a yelp. Duncan ran to check up on him, but Dogmeat got up without trouble and immediately knocked the kid off his feet and into another heap of snow. Sole chuckled to herself before she went back to her fight with the icing.

It wasn’t long before Duncan rushed back inside, red-cheeked and shivering, but still with a huge grin on his face. Dogmeat soon followed, covered in snow so snugly one couldn’t even tell he was a German Shepherd anymore. He stood in the middle of the living room and tensed up.

“Oh, no, no, NO!” Sole managed to shout out as she ran to kick him out to the porch, but she was too late. Dogmeat shook it all off on the beautiful rug she’d restored with such effort. Goddammit. “If you think you’re getting back on the couch, young dog, you are very mistaken,” she said strictly. “You stay here in the mess that you made.”

Dogmeat whined with his uncanny understanding and indeed sat his tail down on the wet rug. That probably wasn’t the best course of action, Sole thought, but she couldn’t back out of it now. She put some wood in the fireplace before going back to the kitchen.

“And you, Duncan, go change and please hang these wet clothes near the fire, but not in the fire, okay?”

Duncan nodded and ran off. She still wasn’t over how much energy that kid had. But, she supposed, it was normal for children. She’d just never had a chance to witness it before. Her eyes teared up again, and she told herself it was from the heat of the cooking.

Duncan soon came back, got himself busy with some toys, but then eventually ended up on the rug with Dogmeat anyway. Sole watched them amused as Dogmeat rolled onto his back to get some belly rubs, and Duncan, scratching him with one hand, drove the toy car on his chest with the other. And when the toy inevitably fell off the steep slope of a dog’s ribcage, Duncan reached over him for it and Dogmeat shamelessly licked him in the face. Duncan, caught by surprise, jumped back with a surprised shriek before he laughed. Sole smiled. There was probably nothing more joyful than a small child’s laugh.

“Aww, I think he likes you,” she said and Duncan giggled even more. Dogmeat pushed his head under Duncan’s hand and the two were promptly playing together again.

Only a few minutes had passed before the door opened again with another wave of cold air blowing into the house. Sole turned away from the stove just as Duncan yelled: “Hi, Daddy!” and ran to get a hug.

“Hi, buddy,” RJ said, putting his arm around him, and then promptly giving Sole an apologetic look. “I’m sorry it took so long, we—”

“Oh, shut up,” Sole cut him off and ran over, rising up to her toes to finally kiss him. His lips and cheeks were awfully cold, but she didn’t care. “It doesn’t matter,” she said as she pulled away, sliding her hands down his chest. “As long as you’re okay, it doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. The snow surprised us a little. Some places, it was up to my waist and we had to improvise. Have you ever had Strong give you a piggyback ride?”

“Wha—”

“Look, Daddy!” Duncan spoke up, having long gone back to playing with Dogmeat on the rug. He was now climbing over Dogmeat’s back while the dog not only suffered it patiently, but even seemed to enjoy it. And just as RJ moved to get him to stop in fears that he’d get hurt, Duncan continued delightedly: “And Mama said Doggy likes me!”

That stopped RJ dead in his tracks. Sole, too. Duncan had never called her that before. RJ turned to her slowly with an odd expression. She didn’t know what to make of it. Was he angry? Did he think she made Duncan say it? She shivered. Or was he just in shock that after barely a month, his little boy was already…? He went over to the kitchen table, stiffly, sat down… and just started crying. Sole froze. Duncan didn’t notice there was anything wrong, thankfully, so when she could move again, Sole grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the bedroom, saying, “Let’s go get you changed out of those, you’re freezing.”

It wasn’t that she wasn’t shaken, especially with how Duncan just threw it in there, into a normal sentence, like it was the most regular thing in the world. And the truth was, he had never called her anything before, really. Somehow, that five-year-old kid managed to navigate every conversation in a way that allowed him to avoid calling her anything else than ‘you’. So this did feel like a .50-caliber bullet to the chest.

But RJ was in such state that all of that now faded away. He slumped to the edge of the bed like he got deflated, and immediately hid his face in his hands. Sole kneeled on the floor next to him and could see tears glistening between his fingers. She rubbed his knee, but couldn’t find any words to say. Only after a long while filled only with RJ’s stifled sobs and the quiet sounds of Duncan’s play coming from the other room did Sole manage to let out a sad sigh and whisper, “RJ…”

“I’m so sorry…!” he whimpered, barely keeping his voice down as he collapsed entirely so that Sole had to embrace him and prop him up on her shoulder, or he would’ve fallen off the bed.

“No, no…” she said, but he didn’t seem to be listening anymore. He just went on.

“Oh, God… I just never expected him to…” He held on to her for dear life, and the desperation and pain behind his cries made her tear up, too. There was something squeezing her throat already. “It’s been years… Years… And I stopped believing I’d ever hear him use that word again… And the first time I do, I think, ‘no, it’s not her’. Oh, God, Sole, I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t be, RJ,” she could barely hold her own tears back. Something about the way he cried resonated deep within her and she couldn’t help herself. “I’m not trying to fill Lucy’s shoes. I don’t expect you to forget about her, I know you still love her.”

RJ was silent for a longer while, clearly trying to regain his composure, before he finally pulled away and looked her in the eye. He seemed calm, but his eyes betrayed the freshly opened wounds he suffered from. “I do. But I love you, too. And I didn’t like feeling like that—angry, at my little boy. It wasn’t his fault. He probably doesn’t remember Lucy at all…” His voice broke again, and Sole had to blink away her tears. “It’s not his fault. It just… hurt, you know? Like she was being erased and… I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry, Sole.”

“You don’t have to apologize, babe. I get it.”

He sniffled. “…I know. You always do, don’t you?” He kissed her forehead, his hand on the back of her neck as he pressed his lips against her skin. He then put his cheeks to hers and stayed like that for a while. “I still remember it, like it was just last week. Lucy was playing with him, holding him on his lap, and we talked about something… the crops, I think? And suddenly, that little boy raised a toy in his hand and just said, ‘Mama!’… It was the first word he ever said.”

Sole felt what was left of her tormented heart drop to the bottom of her stomach. “I’m sorry,” she said. RJ looked at her in surprise, so she explained, “I feel like I took that away from you.”

“No.” His voice was suddenly adamant, as if seeing her crying, in pain, made him switch into protector mode again. “No, you gave my son a home. If he’s able to accept you as his mother…”—even as he said that, his voice trembled, “I should be happy. It’s not your fault, and definitely not his, that I can’t handle moving on.”

“You’re doing just fine,” she reassured him with a smile. “As long as we love each other, we’ll figure everything else out.” He nodded, but she could clearly see she made him emotional again. She wiped her face, completely covered in tears she didn’t even feel. “Wow,” she mumbled, “we are a pair of tragic messes.” RJ laughed softly, but only held on to her hand as she stood up. “Come on, sweetie. You promised to cook.”

And that finally tore a real, honest chuckle from his throat; Sole beamed up alongside him. They went back to the kitchen, hand in hand, but before she managed to put him at the pots, RJ hurried to the duffel bag he had left near the door.

“Hey, Duncan,” he said, “do you wanna see your present?”

The boy jumped up from the rug, letting out something that only vaguely resembled a very loud ‘YES!’. He rushed to the table just as RJ was putting the duffel bag there and asked, “Is that why you were gone for so long?”

“Yeah, buddy. Had to go get the best for you.” And with that, RJ reached into the bag and pulled out… a BB gun. Sole blinked in surprise. She didn’t expect him to do that sort of thing, not after all those times when he said he didn’t want Duncan to have the same life he did, full of violence and blood. But then again, was there really any other life to be made in the Commonwealth?

“I know, I know,” he said, seeing Sole’s surprised gaze. “But he needs to learn to protect himself, and the earlier, the better, right? Besides, I mean, it’s just a BB gun, it’s not like he’s going to turn into me…”

Duncan, after doing a round around he house holding the small rifle like a commando, ran back and stood at the table, looking somewhat distraught. Sole took a moment to admire the worksmaship of the weapon. Even if it was just a glorified toy, the barrel was sleek black and the butt polished to a shine, and there was something special in the way it was built. It must’ve been a unique. And she had no doubts RJ cleaned and oiled it at least three times on his way back.

“Is anything wrong, love?” she asked noticing Duncan didn’t really know how to start.

“No, I mean, I really like it, but…” He sucked his lips in, then pouted again. “I want a scope, too.”

RJ glared at him, like he wanted to say, ‘NO, YOU DON’T’, but before he could, Sole cautiously asked, “Why?”

“’Cause I wanna be just like Daddy when he shoots.”

Sole stifled a laugh, which was an especially difficult task, given RJ’s surprised, almost betrayed face in front of her. “Sure, Duncan,” she said. “We’ll figure something out tomorrow, how about that? And for now, just go and play with it, learn how it feels. Okay?” And as Duncan shuffled away, she looked back at RJ. “I think you may have miscalculated a bit, love.”

“That little…” He shook his head. “You do know it makes no sense, though.”

“Of course, but what harm could it be? I’ll make him a detachable short scope. Let him have fun with it, even if the gun’s range isn’t nearly enough.”

RJ sighed and only then stopped making faces in disbelief. He threw her another odd look, but this time it was one of the good kind. “I have something for you, too, actually,” he said, but before Sole could protest, he added, “it’s not much, don’t freak out. Just a memento, I suppose.” And then he took out a necklace fashioned out of an old silver chain and a rifle round, and placed it in her hand.

“What’s this?” she asked, feeling like an idiot. RJ said it was a memento, so she probably should recognize it from somewhere, but she just couldn’t place it. But he didn’t seem to mind.

“It’s the first round I shot after taking up with you. We encountered some raiders on the way to Diamond City? You were taking cover in front of me, and just as I was taking aim, you stood up with those brass balls of yours and just went at ‘em. Distracted me so much I completely missed. I picked it up afterwards—at first, I was supposed to use it again, but then it just sort of traveled with me and never found a way into my rifle. So…”

“It’s perfect,” she said, “I love it. Can you…?”

Even fastening the necklace on her, RJ couldn’t help but make excuses. “I know it’s not much, but…”

“Hey.” She turned around and put her arms around his neck again. “It doesn’t matter, love. You already gave me the best Christmas gift I could ever dream of: a family.”

Piper

Sole promptly put it out of her mind—there was a lot to do. She woke Piper with a kiss, the kind that made her murmur and stretch, and then put her arms around Sole’s shoulders and pull her in for continuance. Her house in Diamond City wasn’t big, but with Sole only dropping by from time to time when she managed to steal away from her other duties, it was more than enough. And even though it was insanely early for both of them, they already heard Nat bustling around downstairs.

“Wow,” Sole said. “She got excited for Christmas.”

“Nat? Never,” Piper replied, getting out bed and rushing down the stairs, still only in her shirt and shorts. Sole took a moment to appreciate her legs and the way the oufit showed off certain parts of her, before finally getting dressed herself and following her.

“Merry Christmas!” Nat, wearing an apron, shouted at their sight way more joyfully than Sole had ever heard her speak. She didn’t even put down the ladle when she hugged them both warmly, and then went back to cooking. Piper looked like she’d been hit by lightning.

“What is going on?” she whispered to Sole as they went back upstairs to get dressed. “Did the Institute take her.”

“Stop it,” Sole laughed. “It’s just the holiday cheer.”

“No, seriously, Blue… I’ve never seen her act like this.”

“Trust me, she’s just possessed by Christmas spirit.” Piper didn’t seem entirely convicted, but Sole couldn’t really offer her anything else. She still hadn’t told her she’d decided to take over the Institute in order to make it better for the people of the Commonwealth. She had no idea how Piper would react. So even though she knew firsthand Nat was not swapped and that, in fact, no one would get swapped for a synth ever again, she wasn’t going to tell her that on Christmas morning. “Look, if she still acts like this after the holidays, then you’ll have a reason to be worried. For now, just enjoy it. Come on, she’s cooking for us.”

“Yeah, that’s what worries me the most,” Piper mumbled. “But okay. I’ll put my mistrustful journalist nature aside… just for today.”

“Good girl,” Sole teased and kissed her again. “Now, come on, I wanna give you your gift.”

“No!” Piper jumped in immediately. “Me first!” After which, she darted back downstairs with Sole close at her heels.

“Really, you should probably see what I got f—” She didn’t finish as Piper pushed a box up to her face like a little excited girl. It was flat, but quite big, with a big blue bow around it. “Okay…” Sole said as her brow raised, and Piper immediately got all flustered and adorable.

“O-Okay, maybe I got a little bit too… But I just… Oh, just open it.”

So Sole did and inside she found a… a scrapbook? Well, it was definitely hand-made, with pages glued to the leather-bound cover with wonderglue, probably, and even the cover seemed to be taken from some other book. But it didn’t matter, because when Sole opened it, she found pages and pages and pages of photos of her and Piper, and even some of the others, all from the time they spent traveling together. There was her conversation with Nick, and here how she went to the mayor’s office, and on the next page were even photos of her breaking into Kellogg’s old house… But somehow, ‘this reporter’ managed to keep herself from captioning every single one, instead settling for just a few sarcastic remarks here and there, like the one that said “Justice served hot” at the photo of her going at some raiders with a flamer. Sole felt like she was about to burst out laughing, but instead she just stood there in awe.

“You… You were taking photos the entire time?” she stuttered out, then raised her gaze to look at Piper’s flustered face.

“Yeah, I mean… Didn’t you ever notice?”

“I… I don’t know, I guess I didn’t. I mean, I saw you photographing everything else, just not… me.” She went back to flipping through the pages. Here was their time at Covenant… There, their trip to Vault 81… And at the very end, on the last page, was only one photo—the one they’d made together at the beginning of their relationship, here in Diamond City, laying in Piper’s bed as Sole kissed her cheek and Piper couldn’t help but blush and laugh. And the caption said only, “How I knew”. Sole felt tears pricking at her eyelids.

“Thank you, Red,” she managed to push through her tightened throat.

“You’re welcome, Blue.” Piper looked like she was about to burst into tears herself, but held herself bravely as she pulled Sole in for a hug. They just couldn’t stay away from each other, could they?, Sole thought, burying her face in Piper’s hair.

“Hey, you two lovebirds, how about some help here?” Nat suddenly shouted from the other side of the room. “Do I have to do everything alone?!”

Piper pulled away from Sole, sniffled; wiped away a tear hanging from Sole’s eyelashes; and then she chuckled and said, “Gotta love family, huh?”

Preston

By the time she managed to gather strength to get out of bed, the entire town was buzzing with people gathering up near the tree at the round square. She got dressed and followed suit, only to see Preston helping the settlers up several ladders to hang decorations from the branches. She kinda liked him in a position of leadership. There was just something… something else to the way he distributed tasks among everyone, keeping them busy, until the entire town worked together to make the most of this Christmas. It honestly warmed Sole’s heart as she walked towards them and people greeted her with happy voices and ‘Merry Christmas’es and ‘good to see you’s.

“Hello, General,” Preston said a bit sheepishly as she approached, even though his face was sporting a wide grin.

“Hello, my First Officer,” she replied cheekily. She could swear he blushed a little, but thankfully, with him, only she was able to tell. “You’re having fun,” she added as she motioned to the people around.

“It’s reassuring to see people come together and forget about their troubles on a day like this.” He smiled softly. He was talking about the settlers, but he looked only at her. Then he turned his face to the sun as his gaze drifted away and he said, “Everyone’s so cheerful and carefree.”

“What about you?” Sole put her hand on his cheek to turn his face back to her. She didn’t even notice when they’d moved closer to each other, to the point where it might start being really uncomfortable to everyone around. She didn’t really care. “How is it today?”

“Could be better,” he said, and she knew he meant it was awful. “I mean, last year…”

“I know,” she stopped him before he could fall into that abyss again. “I know.”

Preston kissed her forehead, drawing comfort for having her close. Or at least that’s what she thought, given that it was exactly what she was doing.

“I’m just glad we found each other,” he said.

“Me, too.”

They stayed like that for another minute, linked in that intimate embrace, as everyone bustled around them, shouting and laughing. The sun falling on the decorations covered the ground around them in colorful flashes.

“Come on,” Preston said eventually, pulling away from her, though with clear effort. “I want to give you your present.”

“Shouldn’t you keep watch on your lemmings?”

He blinked at her. “What’s a ‘lemming’?”

Sole paused, staring into the distance. “Nevermind,” she replied eventually. “Old world stuff. Lead on, then. Where did you hide it?”

“Like I’m going to tell you,” he smiled at her. “Where would I hide your future presents then? Just wait here.” He left her at the porch of their house as he disappeared behind the one across the street, but then he was gone for so long she couldn’t tell where he went anymore. Bastard.

And then he nearly gave her a heart attack when he came up from behind her saying, “Well, what are you waiting for?” As soon as she was done shrieking, she slapped his arm as he laughed. Oh, it was so nice to see that poor man laughing. “Come into the house, love. It’s there on the counter.”

And when Sole looked, she saw a fully modified laser musket laid out in the kitchen, obviously custom made, repainted in blue and white, and with the Minutemen logo lovingly engraved on the side. She picked it up gently and turned it in her hands, marveling at the handiwork.

“You said you didn’t like the muskets for how long it took to wind them up, so I figured out how to make it automatic,” Preston said, coming up and embracing her from behind. “Do you like it?”

“Huh.” She put it to her shoulder and let go a quick series of lasers through the open side door at the wreck of her old car that was still standing on the driveway even though she was supposed to break it down to pieces probably like two months ago. But, well, it turned to ash in a matter of seconds now, so… problem solved? She threw Preston a glance over her shoulder just to see his perplexed face. Oops. Seems he didn’t expect her to just start shooting it right away. “I love it,” she said cheerfully, and bent herself awkwardly to pull him in for a kiss. Preston shook his head leniently, but gave in to her and they spent the next few minutes passionately making out in the middle of the living room as Sole only tried not to drop her new gift on the floor.

“Now,” Preston said when they finally ran out of breath and had to pull away, “time to get back to our family, huh?”

Oh, SHIT I realised the second ask called for all of the companions, not only the romanced ones, only after Our Sweet Bagel posted this. Whoops? Anyway, let me quickly add them, and I hope you’ll forgive me if I do this in bullet points ‘cause that monster up there took me three days to write because I can never shut up…

((Also, no DLC-companions ‘cause I’m poor))

Okay, here we go!

Codsworth

gifting is tricky for him since he’s a robot and doesn’t have many options

but hey, it’s Christmas and there’s no way he’s not honouring the tradition of the family he will always consider himself part of, even if half of it’s gone

so when Sole’s not around, he goes all the way down to Diamond City, making precise careful calculations to be there at night so that he can deal with Percy at Diamond City Surplus

(especially since he doesn’t really know how the people would react to a robot just casually floating into DC on his own)

when he gets back, Sole’s home, so he pretends to have been just triming the hedges nearby because, and I quote, “Every time I go around them, they are so insufferably asymmetrical…”

he promptly thinks that giving them the gift right away, face-to-face, would be too much boldness on his part, after all, he is but a cleaning robot and had never been invited to festivities before–he wouldn’t want to impose…

so he leaves his gift on a table near Sole’s workshop and watches their reaction as they open it from afar

Sole opens the wrapping to find the exact, perfect-state replica of their favourite outfit from before the war inside

and they promptly go, “CODSWORTH!”

Codsworth floats over, his subsystems buzzing nervously, but Sole just asks him if he has any idea who might’ve left that gift for them

Codsworth relays all power to the social-interaction module, straining to overwrite his programming to say, “I have no idea, mum/sir”

Sole laughs and goes, “Well, nevermind, I’m just gonna go change into it while I still have some time. Speaking of which, would you like to join the rest of us for dinner, keep us some company? Maybe make sure we don’t all end up hopelessly drunk?” Codsworth’s voice module suddenly gets some power troubles when he says, “It would be my utmost pleasure.”

Deacon

definitely in the bizarre department

Sole doesn’t come to the Railroad on the Christmas morning but they send Dogmeat over with a backpack full of small gifts for everyone as a way of apology and a note saying they’ll drop by as soon as they can

Deacon decides to get revenge and makes a prank gift for when they do come, even though Des is throwing him black looks as he works on it

when Sole comes over, Deacon ostensibly points to the Christmas ‘tree’ made out of beautifully arranged pipes and lights (he and Tinker Tom worked on it all night after Des told them to go get a real tree)

there’s a plain cardboard box underneath the tree

Deacon’s just standing there with his arms crossed like, “Well, go on, open it, FINALLY”

Sole laughs but takes it

…and finds a bald pull-on mask inside and a pair of sunglasses

they stare at it for a moment, speechless

Deacon can barely stifle laughter, he doubles down, unable to breathe

Tinker Tom’s sitting there grinning, but everyone else doesn’t really know how to react

Des is shaking her head and pretends to be busy with planning even though she’s watching it all out of the corner of her eye

and then Sole pulls on that mask, puts on the glasses and just goes, “Hi, I’m Dick-con and I’m an asshole!” and the entire HQ bursts out laughing

Dogmeat (yes, I know, I know, the DOG?!… please just bear with me)

that Morning, Dogmeat wakes up to the sounds of his Human being sad

they had been thrashing around at night, which Dogmeat had already learnt usually meant they were going to be Sad and make weird heart-wrenching Sounds and have their face Wet when they woke up

sometimes they woke up at Dark and it was worse, so he supposed this wasn’t so bad

but still he went to Comfort them as he usually would and as he opened the Door with his front paws, he could already see it was much much worse than Always

he didn’t know why, it’s not like anything changed, except maybe for the Snow outside, but Dogmeat didn’t think Snow was a good enough reason to be sad; quite the opposite

but it didn’t matter to him; all that mattered was that his Human was sad

so he jumped on their knees and pushed his face under their hands and they started petting him but it didn’t seem to work

so he got up there on the Big Bed and pulled them back down and licked their face, and they laughed which usually meant he did Good, but even though they petted him and looked at him their face was still Wet and it didn’t make any sense

well, there was one other Thing that always cheered him up, so surely it would work for them too, right??

so he jumped off and ran across the House and then out to His House (why did he leave it in His House?? why not take it to the Other Bed?) and brought the Thing to the Human

and they Sounded and Wetted even more???

but then they said he was a Good Boy!!! so it was all okay, yes? he jumped on the Big Bed next to them and put his face on their knees as they petted the Thing on its head and round Ears and moved the Funny round fingerless paws that the Thing had

and then they said, “Thank you, Dogmeat. But this is yours. I can’t take your teddy bear. Here.” and handed the Thing back to him??? it didn’t make any sense, but it didn’t matter to him; all that mattered was that his Human wasn’t sad anymore.

Nick

when all the festivities are finished, he asks Sole to come with him to his agency because he wants to give them their present

and when they get there, he pulls out this thick folder and slides it to her on the table, but still keeps his robotic hand on it

he says, “Listen, this might be very good or very bad for you. I just thought you would want to know, and…” and then opens the folder, revealing the first page that says, “Subject #245, ‘Shaun’: Development Notes”

Sole feels their heart sink; it’s clearly all the Institute’s records on Shaun’s childhood, his actual, real childhood

“Where did you get this?” they ask; Nick explains he took extra effort to pull it from the Institute’s archives when they were there last time; he would’ve given it to them earlier but he was conflicted about whether or not it would do them more harm than good

Sole sits down, clutching the file; they honestly don’t know, either

Nick sees their pain and explains, “I flipped through it when compiling. They didn’t do anything bad to him, but it is written in a scientific, emotionless language. There are pictures, though. I thought that alone might…”

Sole doesn’t let him finish; they open the folder–they’ll read it later, for now they just want to see their baby grow up for the first time in their life

they study the pictures one by one; there’s at least one per day up until Shaun is a full year old; afterwards, they photographed him several times a week to keep track of his development

it’s physically painful to see him in the Institute’s white walls; the scientists’ faces are never shown, only their hands as they hold him, feed him, take samples… but afterwards, when he gets bigger, he seems happy–and that hurts even more, but also fills Sole’s heart with joy, that though not ideal, their child had at least a happy life

they close the folder and hold it close like the most precious treasure as they look up at Nick with tearful eyes; “Thank you, Nick,” they say, “so, so much. Thank you for giving me my baby back.”

BONUS: romanced!Nick + synth!Shaun (+ f!Sole again because technical issues, sorry)

Shaun’s been staying with Nick for a while now, since he needs to go to school and Sole’s too busy with all her responsibilities to stay in DC all the time; she felt bad to ask Nick for yet another favour, but he was more than happy to have a hand in the boy’s education

Sole comes to visit as often as she can, and this whole ‘joint custody’ thing made her and Nick grow really close over time

Nick doesn’t really know what to make of what he’s feeling; it makes no sense, not with how a huge part of him is still pining for Jen, how every time he shuts down for pre-programmed repairs, he comes to and hopes to see her next to him… so can the feelings he has for Sole even be real?

and the way Sole acts around him, there are only two explanations: she either considers him a very good friend, or she’s as uncomfortable with her feelings as he is and pushes them back; he can’t really blame her–it must be terribly confusing to find oneself having feelings, whatever they may be, for a Generation-2 prototype synth, especially one looking the way he does, whose entire self is contained in a chip; plus a few undesired additions, like Kellogg’s thoughts sometimes bugging him like a needle pricking at the back of his consciousness

but still, awkwardness or not, Nick finds himself wishing for Sole to be there already more often than not, and every time Shaun asks, “When is Mommy going to come visit?”, he has to consciously make sure to say, “I don’t know, pal. Hopefully soon.”

until one day he’s too busy with analysing a case and when Shaun comes to ask him that, Nick replies with, “I miss her too, buddy, but I really don’t know.” before realising what he just said and looking up at Shaun in disbelief; Shaun then only turns around and runs back up to his room, and the topic never comes up again

but then Christmas rolls around, and Sole gives them a heads-up she’ll only manage to meet them at the Dugout Inn at the celebrations hosted by Vadim brothers for all the less-fortunate folks of Diamond City, and, after a small donation, for the more fortunate, too

but Nick knows taking a 10-year-old kid with him to a place like the Dugout Inn isn’t probably the smartest idea, so Shaun agrees to stay home and go to sleep early so he can see Mommy early in the morning

after the festivities are done and Nick and Sole get back to the agency he asks her to take a look at something Shaun made, something he didn’t exactly know what to make of, and he can see Sole’s surprise and concern in her eyes–like any mother, she feared for what her child could’ve gotten himself into, and it warmed Nick’s heart with hope more than he’d be willing to admit to see her treat a synth like a real son, real family

he hands her a comic that Shaun drew and brought to him a few days ago; Sole brought him her collection of comics and magazines to busy himself with when she wasn’t there, and Shaun apparently thought they were one of her most prized possessions; “Well, he’s not so much off the mark,” she says as Nick explains

she takes the short comic, drawn in her child’s hand, and starts to slowly read it, carefully taking in each page; Nick already knows what’s there–it’s a child-like fantasy of how their life would look like if Sole didn’t have to leave all the time, and could instead stay here with them, and it was heartbreaking and… something else

now Nick can see all those emotions Shaun tried to convey pass through Sole’s face: anguish, longing, hope… and then she reaches the last page.

Nick knows what’s on the last page and he can feel his coolant pumping like crazy; he swears his palms would be sweaty right now if… well, if he had both of them, for starters; his metal fingers glide over the object he’s been carrying in his coat’s pocket for some time now

Sole doesn’t react at first; she stares, slack-jawed, at the full-page elaborate, probably the most carefully-drawn panel in the entire book which shows her and Nick locked in an embrace and a speech bubble above his head with a “Will you marry me?” written in all-caps inside

Sole looks up at him slowly; he knows he made her think it was something bad, so now she’s probably asking herself what’s going on and why is he so concerned about this–clearly, a child’s innocent fantasy is no reason to worry

but the truth is, Nick wasn’t concerned at all; he just promised Shaun to give her that comic for Christmas and when he saw what was inside, there was no way he could do it without getting all weird and Sole may have just read a bit too much into this

but now she’s staring up at him in surprise, and for the first time in his synth life he freezes

it takes him a second to get over himself, and soon Sole’s surprise turns into pure unbridled shock when he pulls out a small silver ring and holds it out to her in his robotic fingers

it’s a stalemate: Nick was supposed to say the line, but he barely managed to get his hand to move, so he doesn’t want to try speaking, just in case; and Sole is clearly too shocked to react in any meaningful way–only one of her hands is twitching, like she wants to do something, but she just can’t

and then the smallest of voices speaks up from the doorway as Shaun watches the scene unravel: “Mommy?” Sole looks at him, not any less surprised, her head turning stiffly, as if with effort

and then after another second she bursts out in lenient, cheerful laughter and all the tension immediately dissipates when Shaun asks with the honesty only a hopeful child can have: “Say ‘yes’, okay?”

Strong (yes, Strong; I did the dog, why are you surprised?)

about two weeks before Christmas, Sole notices Strong is no longer at the settlement where they left him; they never kept much track of what Strong was doing, but they do notice when he’s gone and no one, somehow, can tell where he went

another thing that seems to be gone is Sole’s triple missile launcher, which leads them to be really afraid of what that idiot may have decided to do

but when a few days pass and they don’t hear a word of a settlement having been burnt to the ground or otherwise attacked by a single supermutant with a missile launcher, they calm down and decide there’s no point in worrying about it, that it’s just probably another one of his super-quirks

next time they see him, it’s Christmas–everyone’s having dinner in the great hall they built specifically for this purpose and occasion, when suddenly Sole hears Strong calling them to the outside

“You can come and eat with us, Strong, if you w–” they start saying as they walk out, but a loud crash interrupts them as Strong drops their Christmas present on the ground in front of them

it’s a Behemoth’s club, the enormous one made from a fire hydrant, with something that looks suspiciously like a string of intestines wrapped around it like a bow

and before Sole finds the cat that stole their tongue, Strong says, “Strong tell human that human like Behemoth. So human deserve this.” “Thank… you? Uhh… did you… go and fight a Behemoth for this, Strong?” “Yes. Missiles help.” “Oh, and what happened to the missile launcher?” “Broken. When Behemoth not die from booms, Strong beat Behemoth with gun. Bring this instead.” “Wow, it’s really… really big. You must know I can’t possibly carry this.” “It okay. Strong carry for human.”

and when he says it, Strong grabs the fire hydrant club, heaves it up onto his shoulder and walks off without looking back; Sole decides not to ask how Strong even knew about Christmas and the gift-giving tradition…

X6

somewhere mid-December, X6 asks Sole to give him “time off” to go to the Institute for “personal reasons”

Sole has never heard him use either phrase before and they’re quite a bit surprised, but they agree without asking questions–it’s probably better this way anyway

late evening on Christmas Eve, X6 comes to Sole again, just suddenly appears at their doorstep as they’re preparing some things to give to the people at the Christmas dinner tomorrow, and immediately says, “I’m sorry for the intrusion. I am aware many of your companions would not react well to seeing me here during this time.”

just as Sole starts to reassure him that it’s not that bad, X6 raises his hand, “You misunderstand. I don’t feel the need to participate in your holiday activities. However, the way you persevere in treating me with respect and your human warmth, even though I do not always reciprocate it, appears to be more important to me than I realised. That is why I thought that, in honor of your traditions, I should come and bring you this.”

he hands Sole a small, but surprisingly heavy Institute suitcase; and when they open it, they discover rows and rows of mostly unfamiliar tools arranged neatly inside; they throw X6 a surprised look “On several occasions, you expressed your concern for your synth companions getting damaged on your adventures, including me. Should you desire to fix them, this case contains everything you might possibly need. Some of us are more human than others, so you might need certain medical prowess as well, but for those of us who are more robotic, like me or the un… I mean, Nick Valentine… This should be more than enough. Merry Christmas, I imagine the saying goes?”

and as he says it, he turns around to leave; Sole tears their eyes off of the tools the Institute refused to give them when they asked last time–meaning that bringing them this gift might actually have put X6 at risk–and stops X6 with an, “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” “There is no place for me here. I know that. I would not like to make anyone uncomfortable or afraid during this time that you humans consider so important. I shall return at the beginning of next month. That is, if you want me to.” “I do,” Sole says and watches him disappear into the dark of the early Wasteland night.

[kisstheburnsaway]

Like a World War Starting To Brew...

So I’m going to start this thing off with some of the reacts I wrote for Bagel’s blog back in the day (as they’re still technically my intellectual property). There’ll be links to the original posts in each of them. To my great regret, Bagel and I aren’t in touch anymore, which eventually led to me setting this blog up for myself. Writing Fallout reacts just happens to be a very inspiring thing to me and it is nice to know people actually want to read these things.

So... Here we go!