#fo4 fanfiction

[everydayyoulovemeless]

Mystery Swim ↠ Deacon x Reader

➼ Word Count » 0.5k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ Summary » You go swimming to find the Yangtze only for Deacon to start worrying about you getting sick from the water.

“I know I said you should go check it out but I didn’t actually mean it! God, you’re freezing!” Deacon frantically spoke, pulling you out of the ocean's cold grasp.

“Ha! That kid wasn’t lying! There’s a submarine out there!” You exclaimed, shuddering as the cold night air stung your glistening skin.

“Yeah, that’s great.” He said dismissively, “We gotta get you to Carrington before you die."

The old harbor docks creaked under your weight as you climbed out of the murky water. It clung to your clothes and you began ringing out puddles from the bottom of your shirt once you found yourself on stable ground again.

“A cold's not gonna kill me Deek.” You laughed, still excited at your discovery. It wasn't every day you found something so incredibly pre-war—especially since it still happened to work!

His hands gripped your shoulders potently, concern evident on his face, “You never know out here. And what about the radiation? Come on, we’re going back to the church.” He spoke quickly, spinning you around and pushing you onward toward the base to get you looked over.

"What's got you so worried?" You chuckled, opting to follow along with where he was guiding you to move. "I've been through worse."

"I know, It's just—I dunno, it feels like there was a lot at risk this time."

"What, were you scared I wasn't gonna resurface?" You meant it teasingly but you felt his hands subtly tense on your shoulders. Softer this time, you spoke, "Quit worrying so much about me, Deek, I know what the risks are."

"Yeah, yeah, I just—it took you a minute before you came back and—well—" He trailed off once the church was in sight, the small lantern that resided beside the doorway illuminating the space surrounding it, beckoning you toward the entrance. "Here we are." He breathed out, seemingly relieved at being able to see the familiar building.

“(Y/N) is fine, just a slightly lower temperature, but that’s to be expected,” Carrington announced, waving you off, desperately wanting the two of you to leave his corner.

You glanced up at your companion, who stood directly behind your chair, still fidgeting with his hands. "What'd I tell ya? I knew what I was doing."

“Yeah, whatever. Nothing wrong with being cautious.” He draped a tattered coat around your shoulders as he spoke.

“Are you sure it was just caution? It seemed to me like a little more.” You edged him on. Sure, Deacon was cautious, but you don't ever think you've seen him this worried about you before. It was endearing, to say the least.

He flicked the back of your head lightly, “That’s all it was. Now, tell me about that submarine you saw? Was there anyone still left inside? Wait a second, don't tell me—you saw a ghost, didn't you?"

You giggled at his sudden change, wrapping the sides of the jacket around your damp form as you told him all about what you saw. You'd dig deeper into Deacon's conscious later, for now just knowing how much he cares for you is enough.

[violavpurple]

I'm starting a fanfiction about Sole breaking up with different people in Fallout 4. (W.I.P.)

Warning: These are sad and depressing.

[dez78]

A night of passion

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As requested by @ghoulspirits

Hope I captured the moment! Enjoy!

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Fandom: Fallout 4

Pairings: Hancock x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+)

Additional Tags: Smut with plot, romantic Hancock, Public sex, massage leads to sexy time.

Summary: You and Hancock finally find time to have a break and things get heated quick.

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(Not my Gif)

You and Hancock headed into the Third Rail. The last few days have been hell, you have been retrieving caches and dead drops for the Railroad. You needed a break from the constant fighting, you yearned to just sit and have a beer.

"Hey Chuck, two beers." Hancock said as he leaned on the bar,

"Coming right up, mayor!" Charlie replied as he went over to the old, rusted out fridge.

You went to sit on the stool, but Hancock caught your wrist. You looked up at him with a perplexed expression on your weathered features.

"No, no, sweetheart. You and me got a reserved section in the VIP." Hancock said to you in a sensual tone. You quirked your eyebrow and smirked at him.

"Is that so?" You asked with a snarky tone and a mischievous glint in your eye.

"Hm mhm." Hancock hummed in response, he grabbed the two beers and whisked you away to the shadows of the VIP lounge, tucked away from the prying eyes.

-------------------------------------------------

Upon entering, Hancock handed you one of the beers. You took it and popped it open with your pipboy. You plopped down on the old, worn couch. The springs protested under yours and Hancock's weight.

The ghoul flipped his feet up, resting them on the ottoman, taking a swig of his beer. You sipped your own, relaxing finally. Your muscles were tense.

You felt all the pressure in your joints as you rolled your shoulders with a low groan and a furrowed brow.

"You alright, sweetheart?" Hancock questioned, looking over at you.

"Just sore from all that damn fighting and walking." You whined, rolling your neck.

"Well, I ain't no expert, but I can try to help." Hancock offered, you didn't respond verbally, only nodding your head.

Hancock sat up, he put his beer on the floor. You unzipped your vault suit, revealing your skin to your partner. Hancock bit back the moan as he saw your skin for the thousandth time. It didn't matter how many times he saw you; you still stole his breath.

His rough hand trailed down your smooth back, unclasping your bra with only two fingers. You sighed a long breath as you felt the freedom. Hancock watched his fingers mapping your skin and the details of it.

Then he gripped your shoulders, you groaned low, throwing your head back.

His palms and thumbs massaged in the right places. You felt the popping of your joints and the release of your muscle tensity. You were lost in the sensation that Hancock's voice sounded yards away.

When you came to, Hancock was laughing.

"Now come on, sunshine. You keep making those noises, I'll have to cut this short." He said as he growled low, his breath on your neck. You bit your lip; your cheeks were flushed a bright pink.

"Would that be such a horrible thing?" You questioned innocently.

"I would certainly take you up on that offer." Hancock replied, still massaging your neck and shoulders. You turned then, catching Hancock's breath. He bit his lip as his coal eyes were fixed on yours.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous." He said stunned, admiring every detail of your face in the dim light. You were surprised, the first thing he didn't look at were your breasts, instead he fawned over your face, your eyes, your lips.

You smiled to yourself; he had his charm, but sometimes he was about more than sex. Only for you. You weren't an object or a one-night stand that meant nothing. You were his equal, his partner, you were his and he was yours.

Hancock cupped your jaw, you leaned into his touch, kissing his palm. He hummed with contentment. He pulled you in and captured your lips in a tender kiss. He ran his other hand up your body, feeling every inch of your stomach before finally cupping one of your breasts in his large hand.

He gave you a gentle squeeze, you moaned into his mouth and that was his invitation. He dipped his tongue into your mouth. You let him in with no hesitation, your lips danced with each other in a smooth rhythm.

------------------------------------------

It wasn't long before things got hot and heavy, Hancock had torn off your vault suit and his own clothes. He held you up by your waist as he laid on top of you, leaving a trail of love bites across your neck and breasts. His fingers were graceful as he smoothed up your back.

He drove powerful thrusts into you, you were glistening with beads of sweat and were a mess of sound. It was music to Hancock's ears.

"That's right, baby girl. Let them know who you belong to." He rasped through thrusts. You cried out, arching your back. Hancock kept you steadied as your body convulsed for the fourth time that night.

Hancock leaned down, kissing your jawline as he slowed to an even pace. Giving you time to recover. He kissed your neck tenderly as he pushed into you slowly.

"You like that, sweetheart?" Hancock purred into your ear; you nodded slowly enjoying the feeling of him filling you up with his immensity.

"You're such a good girl for taking it all." Hancock praised you, you shuddered with delight as his voice rumbled against your sensitive skin. He kissed your lips with a tenderness he only had for you.

You usually liked it the way he gave it, but sometimes you wanted slow, and he provided and proved to be an excellent lover in both times. It all depended on you. He respected your feelings. He never did anything you were against. He always made sure you were okay and if you liked what he was doing. If not, then he'd stop.

He was never rough unless you wanted it. You loved that about him, he gave you options and freedom with your love life.

"You ready, love? Or do you want this some more?" Hancock asked you, kissing your neck gently.

"I want it rough." You growled, Hancock got that mischievous glint in his eye and gave you a devilish grin.

He sat up.

"Spread your legs for me, baby." He commanded, you opened your legs for him, and he devoured you. You threw your head back, screaming in bliss. Your thighs quivered. He was hitting your sweet spot. Your hair was falling over your face, wet from sweat.

Beads trickled down the curve of your breast, your lips were swollen, your body glistened, and your eyes sparkled. You were beautiful. It sent Hancock over the edge. You arched your back, contracting around your lover. Your whole body shook.

"Fuck." Hancock breathed with a hoarse laugh. You laid there for a moment, catching your breath. Hancock smiled, drawing circles on your stomach.

"Enjoy, sweetheart?" He smirked; your eyes were half lidded as you looked at him.

"What do you think?" You quipped with a tired smile. Hancock didn't say anything, just gave you his own genuine smile. You loved how he wore it. It suited him. You were the only one to ever see his true smile. He faked it for others, but he put all his trust in you.

You felt lucky to know him, the true him. Not the show ghoul that he put on for everyone else. The facade. You grabbed his face and pulled him on top of you. He rolled his tongue at you,

"Round two already?" He teased; you shook your head.

"No, just kiss me." You told him, he looked a bit surprised, but didn't protest to the request. He leaned down. He wrapped his arms around your waist, his lips against yours.

The kiss was sweet, not heavy and hot like it was moments ago. This one was tender, gentle, and full of love. Hancock poured his all his feelings into his kisses. This time was no different.

The two of you pulled away for only, but a moment. In that time, your eyes met. You saw the sincerity in Hancock's expression.

"I love you, sunshine." He said, brushing strands of hair from your sticky forehead, you smiled up at him.

"I love you too, John." You replied lovingly. Hancock's smile was bright, he loved his name on your lips, it was a beautiful sound, even more beautiful than your moans, he admitted.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours again, savoring the kiss. Savoring the moment. It was perfect, you were perfect.

[sassenashsworld]

[queenvidal]

The Missing Piece

Chapter 2: Strange Feelings

Chapter Summary: Goodneighbor is facing quite some problems but Hancock needs a break. It's hard to concentrate with his mind spiraling back to the woman from the vault.

Wordcount: 2159

Chapter Index:

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9

Masterlist

The last week has been a mess.

The group of green skins that have attacked Nick and Blue settled down not far away from Goodneighbor. In fact, they came far too close for Hancock’s liking. He and Fahrenheit spend the last few days working hard on finding a solution. So hard even that John didn’t have time to take one of his little chem breaks every now and then to take off the edge.

His usually blurred mind sobered up over the time and got almost completely clear and sharp and it just wouldn’t shut up. Though being sober isn't something John is unfamiliar with, the sheer chaos in his head had kept him from concentrating. 

Thoughts were racing through his head, bringing past demons back into focus. His mind zoned out constantly, brought him back to diamond city, to the things he did and didn’t do. But the worst part was the anxiety. Out of the blue he’d feel knots tightening in his chest, making it hard to breathe. He’d find himself clenching onto his sofas or desk, his chest heaving. At first he thought it might be some kind of bad tripping or a response to the never ending flood of pictures in his head. But he knows what that feels like and it doesn’t come close to whatever is going on with him now. It’s something he has no idea how to handle.

His nerve-racking arm was just the cherry on the top. Amari couldn’t find what was causing that unpleasant feeling and ended up just injecting Med-X. It did not help in the slightest, but Hancock didn’t bother to tell her. He thanked her for her help with Blue and his arm and quickly left.

“Hancock, what the fuck?” She asks, looking up from the map on the table. John’s face stays unreadable sternly, if she wouldn’t know him as well as she does, she’d find it quite intimidating. “That’s just bullshit! Are you even listening to what I’m saying? We are low on supplies as it is.” She points onto the map. “We can't go in with two teams, the two blocks are still raider territory, we'd have to -"

Needless to say that John’s mood soured quickly over the past few days and Fatenheit is getting sick of it.

“I’ve said two teams and two teams will get sent.” His voice is uncomfortably calm. The guards around the makeshift warrable share uneasy glances. Hancock has been really on edge like he is right now. To call the atmosphere in the room tense would be an understatement. 

Fahrenheit doesn’t care about what he wants. “I won’t send our men on a suicide mission just because these mutants hurt the robots little girlfriend.”

John's knuckles are turning white from the tight grip on the table. “You do as I say.”

“Nope. Know what,  I’m out.” Fahrenheit rounds the table to go for the door. She snips into the air, getting her men moving out of the room. “I am fucking tired of your irrational and stubborn orders. We'll adjourn this whole revenge trip of yours until you get your shit together. Go get your ass to The Third Rail and get wasted or something. It is absolutely impossible to work with you right now!" And with that the woman steps out of the office, leaving Hancock alone in the dim light of a few candles. 

He's furious. How dare she talk to him like that? As much as he treasures their friendship, this woman is crossing lines. At the end of the day, he's the mayor and she's just his right hand. He's in charge and that's something she needs to keep in mind. it's one thing to yell at him when they are private and talking eye to eye, no problem with that. But she has to fucking stay in line when it is business related. Especially with their men around.

Her current disobedience is maddening. And the damn migraine isn't helping either. Or his shaking hands. Or the cold sweet. For fuck sake, withdrawals already? The absolute last thing he wants to do is admitting that Fahrenheit was right. Maybe he really should take a break and drown himself in cheap whisky that  would make humans go blind. Maybe combined with jet, slowing his spinning mind that won't shut up about things he'd rather not think about.

Well, If they are still having jet and whisky, or alcohol in general that is. Their supply line is still cut. Another problem Hancock still has to solve. Maybe the mutants will kill the raiders or the other way around. That would be the easiest way but that again, nothing in the Commonwealth is easy.

Whatever. There is still an untouched 'survival kit' of all kinds of chems in the drawer of the mayor's desk. It definitely won't save his life when his town of criminals and junkies revolt against him for letting them dry down but at least he would be far away in mindless bliss when they paint his office with his guts.

Damn, since when did his thoughts go down such dark roads? John shakes his head, he really needs a break before his thoughts drive him crazy. With a sigh he takes his pack of smokes and leaves for The Third Rail.

When he passes Ham with a nod in greeting and enters the bar, he gets hit by the smell of cheap perfume, booze, smoke and vomit. Home.

The ghouls face cracks a smile when he sees his favorite detective sitting right at the bar, downing a longdrink, that smells exactly like coolant. Hancock takes the chair next to him. "Look who's here. Mind some company, Nicky?"

The synth huffs a laugh and takes a sip from his drink before he answers. "Not at all. And who am I to reject the mayor of Goodneighbor?"

Hancock orders two whiskeys and downs them both in one needy gulp. The liquid slowly burns its way down John's throat. Damn, he really needed that. While savoring the slow burn, he puts the glasses down with a loud clink.

Nick eyes Hancock with a questioning frown. "Ehm. A bit eager, are we?" Charlie refills the glasses without a comment and hovers away to the other guests. 

John pulls out a pack of smokes from his pocket, taking one out and offers Nick one as well. The detective doesn't say no but the frown doesn't leave his face when he takes one.

"Long day in the office." John sighs as he lights up his cigarette before taking a long drag. "How are you doing, Nicky, everyone treating you alright?"

Nick simply nods before he takes another sip. "Yeah, yeah."

John notices the tiredness in the synth's voice. Something is the matter. "So." The ghoul starts. "And what is your excuse for being here? Despite the girls and drinks?" Hancock lets his gaze wander through the bar. All familiar faces are sitting on crates, listening to Magnolia, drinking, fainting. Nothing out of the ordinary. A black haired woman meets his eyes, she smiles at him from under her bangs. Hancock acknowledges her by tipping his hat down a bit before he returns his attention back to his friend who still didn't answer his question.

Nick's eyes are glued at the almost empty glass in his hand while he takes long drags of his cigarette. He looks lost in thought, like he is pouting for whatever reason. "C'mon Nicky, what's bothering you? Everything alright with your vaultie?"

The synth just shakes his head. Eventually he sighs, "No, not really." John feels his stomach drop at that. Were her injuries more severe than they thought, did she catch an infection? All kinds of scenarios are floating around in his head. Nick takes another drag, "But I guess the Doc already told you." 

Actually she didn't. John hasn’t talked to her since Nick and Blue came into town. His arm did really go on his nerves, but he didn’t want to bother Amari with it again. He figured it might be part of his ghoulification. Losing some parts other than the nose and ears is normal, usually a toe or two. To lose whole limbs is possible but it's  very, very rare. Definitely not something John would be looking forward to but in the end he knew what he got himself into when he made his decision to become one. 

Also the last days were very stressful.  He was so occupied with his arm and the super mutants, he simply forgot to ask the doc about the woman from a vault. 

Which is a total lie.

John found his mind taking him back to the night where Nick and Blue stumbled through the gates ever so often. But lying to himself is easier than facing his worries for a person he barely met. Or the strange clenching of his guts whenever he memorized Blue’s wound and the sheer amount of blood all over her suit and Nick.

John tears his mind away from the memory, "Haven't spoken to her since you two came here. What's wrong?"

The vague answer only adds to the uneasy feeling in Hancock guts. "Care to be a bit more precise?"

Nick just sighs. “A lot.”

"She… well, let's say she's been through a lot and it shows - mentally."

Now that just piques John's curiosity. "What do you mean?"

"You know I don't talk about running investigations, Hancock."

So Blue is an actual client of his. Why the hell would somebody from a vault leave one of the safetes places in the Commonwealth behind to ask a synth detective for help? John hits the synth on his shoulder lightly. "Come on now, Nick. Don't leave me hanging here like that."

Nick puts out his cigarette in an ashtray before looking up to answer. "She's in the Rexford. Talk to her if you want to know more about her story, it's not my place to tell."

Hancock just rolls with his eyes. Of course he could just do that but if he’s honest to himself, her private matters are none of his business. Sure, he could defend himself by playing the 'I'm the mayor of the town and saved your life' card but that's not his style. And technically did Amari save her life - He just stabbed Finn out of the way.

John cringes internally at that. Damn, shes a fucking vaultie after all, her people are not used to the harsh reality outside their giant metal doors. Hell, she even most likely never saw a ghoul before. What  must she be thinking of him-

"Good evening, mayor Hancock."

The soft voice behind the men makes them turn their heads towards the source of it. It’s the black haired girl from the table on the other side of the bar.

"Good evening yourself-" John knows her, he is certain of it but what's her name again? Mindy? Suzi? "Pretty." Or just go with harmless, flattering pet names. A method that proved to be very sufficient over the years. The woman gives him a bright smile in response. "What can I do for you?" John asks even though he already knows what she's up to.

She bites her lower lip playfully, all of the sudden acting shy. "Well, I wondered if you'd like to have some company later, you know?”

Yeah, just like John thought. Nick looks at him with a knowing smile on his face but doesn't say anything. The ghoul considers her invention for a moment. The main dilemma for the last few years, ever since he became mayor of Goodneighbor - Sex or drugs. 

Both at the same time can be fun, too. But the possibility of passing out during a one night stand, being that vulnerable around a person who is just interested in his caps or chems, or just has a weird ghoul fetish, that's stuff nightmares are made of. At least his. So no, both are not an option.

"You can have him." Nick says nonchalantly as he stands up from his chair. "I've finished my drink anyway and I have a client to take care of." 

Jealousy hits John like a bolt of lightning. A feeling he didn't have in a very long time. It's so sudden and without warning, it takes him off guard. He tries not to read too much into that and turns his attention back to Trudy. Or Ruby? The woman takes Nick's seat immediately even though John hasn't answered yet. With a sigh on the remaining of his lips he just gives in. No drugs tonight then. But before Nick is out of earshot, John calls after him. There is one burning question he needs an answer for. "Nick! Blue ain't her real name, is it?"

The synth waves at him as he makes his way to the exit. "It's not."

Chapter Index:

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9

Masterlist

Taglist: @loverofclones / @squeakythedragon / @martinys-world / @id-rather-be-in-middle-earth

[woobiz]

IF I START WRITING FANFIC WHAT DUO DO YOU WANT TO SEE???

PS: If I do end up writing stuff, I'll probably dabble in a little of everything cuz i am indecisive! LMK THX

[whatanightmaregrinch]

Paladin Danse x Fem! Sole Survivor- it’s all over but the crying

[ note: this is set after the events of the main story, sole followed the BoS route. This drabble deals with themes of mental health, and loss. Please read at your own discretion! ]

All was quiet in Sanctuary. Night had descended, and the gentle hum of the Bloodbugs were far away. If you pretended hard enough, it reminded you of the way Cicadas used to shout into the night, giving the evenings a natural ambience. This was similar, but Cicadas couldn’t turn a man into a drink carton, insides sucked out and carcass discarded for Bloatflies to feed on in the morning. You lent further back into your chair, which squeaked in discomfort at your actions. You’d taken to relaxing by the back door on nights like this, unable to stop your eyes wandering to the night sky to gaze at the moon. Before the Great War, it was normal to hear the sound of vertibirds, giant monstrous things, storm through the skies over the suburbs as they traveled to bases and distant lands alike to fight their wars. Now they only ever made pace from the Prydwen, and the sky was no longer a reminder to you that you had lived on the very edge of peace and destruction. Your deep thought was disturbed by a light turning on in the kitchen, and a soft but firm footfall approach from within.

Your companion, Danse, appeared. He hesitated upon seeing you lost in thought, but you smiled at him and his stiff posture relaxed somewhat, feeling more confident that he’d not interrupted a preferred solitude. He faltered for just a moment upon noticing there was only one chair which you were currently inhabiting, but decidedly shut the back door and came to sit down on the floor next to you. He seemed to have difficulty for a moment, before settling into a more comfortable position. You couldn’t help but chuckle at him, he looked so awkward , even if he did seem settled. He looked up at you, his usually stern expression soft in its mild confusion. “Is something wrong?” He enquired, and you found yourself shaking your head. “I just didn’t expect you to do that, I suppose I found it funny.” You explained, and he just nodded, following suit as you returned your gaze to the stars.

Since his expulsion from the Brotherhood (and subsequently discovering his true identity) he had been quieter than usual, but you understood well that pain took a long time to subside, especially great traumas such as his. It was difficult for him to grapple with all he’d been indoctrinated to believe and all that he was- how poorly he had acted to those you considered friends, allies and family. On his shittier days, he’d allow that guilt to fuel his self-loathing; and in turn, his mood would sour. He’d retreat as far into himself as he could, moving around the wasteland with you on autopilot. You minded not, you knew not to take his feelings and tone towards you personally. He was never rude to you anyway: sometimes curt, but never had he offended you or made you feel unsafe. You’d been in a similar way after your incarceration and staggered escape from Vault 111. You didn’t know who to trust with your pain, so you did not speak of it. Not until you stumbled through the gates of Cambridge Police station, responding to the somewhat desperate shouts of Danse and his team as they battled feral ghouls. Not until Knight Rhys (of all people) questioned you about your motives, swearing you intended to shit on everything he held dear. Back then, your priority had been finding Shaun. Now? It was picking up the pieces that your son had left behind, wounding the already scarred landscape with more radiation and debris in order to stop the organization that had grown him into the monster he had become. Trying to return to whatever normalcy life in this time offered was difficult for both of you, and neither of you judged each other for having battles too big for you to fight. You had seen him at his worst, held his shaking and crying form as he cursed his existence into the night. He had been your stability when you mourned Nate, and you often visited the grave you’d made for him together. He would sit silently by your side, listening to you as you spoke to Nate, talking about all that he had missed and never got to experience. Together you’d drink a Gwinnett Stout in his memory, and Danse would sometimes talk to Nate too. He would sternly promise the headstone that he’d been keeping you safe in his absence, and it brought you much comfort.

The relationship that you two shared had no name attached to it, not that you minded. Without words, you’d almost settled into a domestic partnership. Even though Danse was now aware he could not sleep for days with little consequence to his well-being, you’d approach him each time you felt tired and you would lie down together on a mattress (or bedroll, situation dependant) , and as you were both on the edge of sleep he would settle his arms around your waist, and you’d curl back into his chest. It would send your heartbeat wild, but you didn’t desire an answer to his actions. You just wanted to experience it. You ate together (even if a few times you argued when supplies were limited, him wanting you to take the remaining cram tins because of his synth status, you reminding him that synths like him had the same food need as yourself), and you’d even bathe together if you were on the road in the commonwealth. There was no awkwardness between the two of you, sometimes you��d even converse-albeit both of you faced in opposite directions, less out of discomfort and more out of respect for each others autonomy.

In a way, the both of you knew each other's intentions. Neither had denied the other. You tore your gaze away from the inky stillness above to look at him, hoping to steal a private glance, but you found he was already looking at you. He flushed, a welcome look on his face. “Can we discuss something?” He broke the silence, and you gave him your full attention, turning your body to face him to indicate agreement. He fiddled with the material of his trousers as he spoke. “Are we… are we in a relationship?” His words made you feel like an open book. How convenient it was for him to be bringing it up, like he knew you were thinking of him. The cool summer breeze caught some of your shorter hairs, and you swept them behind your ears and out of view. “Do you.. think we are?” You asked with uncertainty, and he searched your expression for a clue to how you were feeling. For a moment he held you, suspended at the end of your question. Embarrassment crept up his neck, and he stumbled over his words slightly as he spoke. “Yes, I mean-I hope so. Otherwise I feel a bit.. wrong?” He offered nervously, and you offered him a small, but amused smile. “ I’d consider us so as well.” You confirmed, and Danse would openly admit he felt relieved. “Good.” He muttered softly, slightly nodding as he spoke. Feeling satisfied, you both returned to stargazing. There was a brief silence as you both stared up in a silent appreciation.

“Can we hold hands?” He asked, without breaking his relaxed look at the stars. “Yeah, we can.” You replied, and you felt his hand reach up for yours, and you firmly interlocked your hand with his. He squeezed your hand for a moment, and you allowed yourself a smile. For tonight at least, you were allowed to be in peace.

[eebideebi]

After Death Shroud, I've started wondering if next year the VAs are just gonna read fanfiction off the page.

And honestly, I'm okay with that prospect. I can imagine Peter Jessop reading Danse's lines and just recoiling

[everydayyoulovemeless]

Fo4 Companions Favorite Settlements To Stay At

➼ Word Count » 0.7k ➼ Warnings » Slight spoilers in MacCready's

MacCready really likes the Finch Farm. It has always been a place of comfort for him. There's something about the family that lives there that almost reminds MacCready of the family he and his son are never likely to get. He hopes that one day when his son makes it to the Commonwealth that they could hang around the place for a little while longer, maybe even live there with them permanently.

Nick's always been fond of the Starlight Drive-In. Human Nick spent a lot of time in these types of theatres, so he's always felt weirdly connected to them. Nick also likes to stand behind the counter and serve drinks while all the other settlers gather around on the stools. It's just a naturally nostalgic place for him.

Cait has never been particularly excited to visit the settlements, they're all too open and the settlers are wayyy too in her face for her to have fun. That's why Hangman's Ally is the only one she ever agrees to go to. Not many settlers like living there, and it's almost invisible to the rest of the world.

Danse's favorite settlement to be at will always be the Boston Airport. There's nowhere he'd rather be than near his fellow soldiers—they're like his family.

Preston loves all the settlements you work on, but The Castle always wins. In his opinion, there's nothing better than the space, people, and artillery that the Castle holds. It's a natural place for any Minuteman to want to be in. He especially loves the history of it all. Looking back at old pre-war artifacts that have been scattered across the castle makes him feel so intrigued.

Codsworth loves sanctuary for sentimental reasons, but greygarden is a place he really feels at home. It's just him and all the other Mr. Handys, cleaning and gardening, his favorite things to do <3 (and sometimes they have really good gossip)

Piper spent a good while trying to solve the mystery in Jamaica Plain, and in doing so, set up her own little shack to call a temporary home. She made pretty good friends with the settlers who currently resided there and likes to visit every now and then to see the home she lived in for a week serve a different purpose.

Curie's very interested in all the ghost stories that surround the Croup Manor. She can't help but get excited at the thought of spending the night there or starting a little campfire just outside the place and going back and forth telling each other myths and legends.

Strong likes a lot of the settlements, but Sunshine Tidings Co-Op always makes him satisfied due to all the raider camps that are scattered nearby. Even Nuka-World's close. He can eat as many people as he wants down there, what more could he ask for?

Hancock loves supporting his fellow ghouls, so the Slog is a personal favorite of his. He always tries to help the group down there out as often as he can, especially security-wise. He wants to see this group prosper. It's refreshing to see others working toward the same goals as him.

Deacon, against Desdemona's wishes, turned the Taffington Boathouse into a frat house of sorts. He's always trying to recruit people but he's only managed to convince Tinker Tom to get on board. He's also the only one who knows what a frat house actually is so everyone just ignores him.

X6-88 hates them all. They're all too grimy for him to ever willingly be near. Although, if he had to pick, it'd be Covenant, only after he's killed everyone else in it. He'd much rather it be just the two of you in that semi-secure township. 

Dogmeat likes all of them, although Sanctuary and the Red Rocket Station are his favorites. Both settlements always hold such friendly people and tons of junk for him to play with!

Naturally, Old Longfellow prefers his cabin. He has the most detailed mental map of his little island—knows where all the traps are set and everything. Besides all his weapons and alcohol being stored there, why wouldn't it be his favorite?

Gage doesn't have much of an opinion on any of them, although, he thinks Hangman's Ally has the best cover. It doesn't matter to him though, everywhere's home if you can take it from the original residents.

[willinglyghoulified]

Hancock Chem Headcanons

I've been seeing a lot about Hancock lately, and other Fallout characters, that partake in The Chems TM and their reasons besides for the memes, and I would like to share my headcanons with everyone on Hancock. Since I've been writing this fanfic series with him for a few years now, I've had a ton of time to really think about the way I view his chem usage and why he does what he does.

He has high intelligence but doesn't like to get lost in his own thoughts. Not the worries, not the theories, not the what-ifs, not the nagging fears, or the way he talks down about himself. He's kinda like a case of "he had so much potential; if only he would apply himself." He doesn't want to apply himself, whether it has to do with past traumas or deep-seated fears.

Chems had other benefits besides just getting high. In my FF, he began taking chems because they were beneficial. It was his first job, delivering packages house to house in Diamond City, and Buffout helped him carry heavier packages across town. Chem use easily got out of hand. Later, spiked goods entered the mix. It's pretty believable since the player character uses chems in certain situations to get an edge. There were, of course, other people in his life that were chem users.

Because he enjoys it. And we all know that too much of something is a bad thing. But anytime I ask someone "why do you smoke? Why do you vape? Why do you smoke pot or eat edibles? Why do you drink?" I usually get a simple answer: "Because I like it and I want to," and sometimes mixed with, "to knock the stress off." Hancock is a mayor, so he probably stays a little stressed, too.

Chems make him more fun. After you've been doing something like this for a while, you tend to "not be yourself" when you haven't had your substances. People like Hancock in Goodneighbor because he, quote, "knows how to sling and shoot up like the next guy, and he doesn't put himself above them." So another reason he could be doing chems is simply because he wants to remain likable, especially since he has a low opinion of himself already.

He would do less chems if he stayed busy/distracted. I see Hancock as the kind of person that needs constant distraction, and he functions best when he's with someone that keeps his mood up. Not that he wouldn't take chems when he realizes he hasn't had any in a while; it's more like he just doesn't think about them. When you can hold him in a conversation, give him something to do to keep his hands or mind busy, or keep him laughing and engaged, he just reaches for the Jet and Mentats a lot less.

Note: Ghoulism makes you immune to a lot of things. Aging is incredibly slow, disease has no effect on you, radiation heals you, and you don't benefit from eating (e.g. Billie in the fridge). My headcanon is that it would take a lot to get Hancock high. His tolerance escalated after the ghoulification. And if he goes clean for longer than a day, any addictions he had would fall off. I imagine that this would irritate him, though. "Not as easy as it used to be," he'd say while chasing a new, crazier high.

Just some fun theories I had.

[fallout4reacts]

I wrote a F!Sole Survivor / Paladin Danse one shot. Another look into the relationship between Elle and Danse and it moves from enemies to friends to lovers.

Tags: Enemies to friends to lovers, Hurt/Comfort, platonic (unrecognized) feelings Trigger warnings: Drug use, attempted (unintentional) suicide Read it on Ao3 because it is so flipping long... I am incapable of writing anything short it seems... https://archiveofourown.org/works/52450413 (If you wanna know more about their "enemies" history, please read my fic "Walking", and if you want something more lighthearted and moving into "lovers" territory read my two shot "Man Enough".

[callmewisteria]

writing Scribe Haylen and Knight Rhys investigating Covenant for the Brotherhood is almost too fun

[dez78]

Imagine:

-------------------

Hancock pushing you against the wall and calling you "baby girl."

Warnings: Use of a curse word and Hancock being charming as hell.

(Not my gif)

--------------------

Hancock pushed you against the wall, he leaned on it with one arm, while the other snuck around your waist. The neon lights buzzed above you, humming in the quiet alley.

His face was so close to yours you felt his breath on your skin.

"What's up, baby girl?" His voice was smooth and husky. You twitched your mouth and shifted your weight. Fucker got under your skin again, you felt your cheeks burning hot.

You averted your eyes, if you didn't look at him, you wouldn't fall for his charm.

Then he did the thing, that you had been waiting for. He moved his arm from your waist; he put his thumb and index finger under your chin. Slowly lifting your head up, your eyes locked immediately.

You felt like a hot mess, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks as you frowned and snorted with a pout, making a subtle cloud of smoke in front of your mouth from the crisp air.

Hancock only smirked at you,

"Look at you all flustered..." He looked you up and down, his eyes darkened with lust. Your eyes met yet again.

"And for me, no less. How sexy." He purred in his raspy, low voice as he flashed you a devilish grin. You were at a loss for words. Literally your mind was blank. You just stared up at him, getting lost in his coal gaze.

[birds-of-a-fallout]

HELLO BIRDS OF A FALLOUT NATION!!!!!!!!! im a vtuber now and this week im streaming myself loredumping about my ocs if you were interested in learning more about them :) ok thats all i wanted to say

[sassenashsworld]

Nick mad

Main deal is done

Now looking back at @rad-roche mad Nick... mine is not enough mad looooool

But the big lines are draws and I can now work on details, shadows...