#took down a deathclaw with just one mean look | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hrefna-the-raven · 1 month

Text

Heart of Steel

Fallout masterlist - main masterlist

Chapter 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

Song for this chapter:

Summary: You pay Goodneighbor a visit, meeting up with Nick in the Memory Den to find out where the Institute is hiding, hoping to save your son. Meanwhile something as simple as a visit to Goodneighbor proves challenging for someone with the mindset of Elder Maxson. He made a promise but keeping it might crack deeper into what Arthur truly wanted.

Warnings: smut (18+), violence (although Finn deserves it), a lot of feel feels

Notes: sorry for the length of this chapter^^ but there'll be smut at the end as a reward ;)

Chapter 7 - Dangerous minds

You nervously paced up and down in front of the entrance of Goodneighbor, jumping at every little noise around you. Your hand instinctively reached for the pistol in the holder on your hip as someone emerged from around the corner. As the person drew nearer, you noticed that it was a tall man with dark brown hair. The sides of his head were shaved, while the hair on top was slightly longer with a few strands that fell in his face. A snug white t-shirt clung to his well trained torso, covered by a worn black leather jacket. His dirty blue jeans clung tightly to his legs and his boots were worn and covered in dirt and scratches. As he approached, you caught sight of a long scar on his right cheek and only then did you relax, removing your hand from the pistol.

"Arthur", you greeted him with a smile, "you look...different."

"Different enough that you were ready to shoot me", he grinned, "I suppose that means I've been successful."

You thought he was already good looking before but that clean shaved face took it to a whole new level. No beard to hide that wonderful sharp jawline, perfectly contouring his face, making him look more his age. You were positively surprised how many years his beard had added to his appearance. As your finger traced over his scar, he suddenly became self-conscious, realising that most of it had been hidden beneath his dark facial hair for so long. Memories of how he'd barely managed to defeat that deathclaw seven years ago violently flooded his mind, causing his hands to tremble and his vision to blur as sheer panic caused by the flashback flooded his entire body.

"Don't worry about that", you spoke softly as you kept touching his scar, "I actually think it adds to your rugged charm. Although, at some point, I would love to hear the story behind it."

You placed a tender kiss on his lips and felt the tension melt away. Arthur let out a nervous chuckle, surprised at how you were able to have such a calming effect on him. Just a simple kiss managed to wash away the painful memories of his encounter with one of the most dangerous creatures in the Wastelands.

You made your way through the creaky worn wooden door but only a few steps in, your way was blocked by a scarred bald man in road leathers. He casually lit his cigarette, his eyes scanning between Arthur and yourself, lingering as he examined your appearance.

"Welcome to Goodneighbor, Sweetie. Can't go walking around without an insurance. It would be a shame if something happened to you."

The disgustingly smug smile he gave you made you want to punch this dude straight away but you knew better than to start trouble in this place, especially with the Brotherhood's Elder by your side.

"Unless it's “keep-dumb-assholes-away-from-me” insurance, I'm not interested", you shrugged nonchalantly, trying to keep a neutral expression as you heard Arthur laugh next to you.

“Careful babyface!”, he pointed at Maxson before turning his attention back to you, that greasy smile reappearing, “now don't be like that, sweetie, I think you're going to like what I have to offer.”

“Whoa, whoa, time out, Finn!”, Hancock laughed as he strolled towards you, “my favourite Vaultie makes a rare visit to town and you're hassling her and her friend here with that crap? Good to see you again”, he winked at you.

“What d'you care? She ain't one of us and he ain't either! You're soft Hancock, one day there'll be a new mayor in town”, Finn took a few steps towards the ghoul, raising his arms provocatively.

“Come on, man. This is me we're talking about. Let me tell you something.”

Hancock now stood mere inches away from Finn when he swiftly pulled out a dagger from beneath his coat and began thrusting it into Finn's body until it went limp and collapsed onto the pavement, a dark crimson pool forming around it. The ghoul wiped the knife clean on the corpse and slid it back under his coat, a genuine friendly broad smile gracing his lips now as he approached you with open arms and to hug you tightly.

“You alright, sister?”, a concerned tone in his voice as he inspected you before addressing Arthur, “don't let this little incident taint your view of our little community. Goodneighbor's of the people, for the people, you feel me? Everyone's welcome.”

“Of the people, for the people? Oh brother...”, Maxson grumbled.

Hancock burst into laughter before playfully slapping Arthur's shoulder.

“Same as her, he he, I can tell I'm gonna like you already. Your room's ready at my humble State House, courtesy of being the mayor. Old Nick's waiting at the Memory Den. And be sure to pay a visit to The Third Rail, trouble always seems to find your little merc MacCready.”

“He's not mine, you know”, you chuckled as you watched Hancock make his way toward the State House.

You wanted to head straight to meet up with the detective but Maxson's fingers wrapped around your wrist and he pulled you closer.

“You're...friend...is a ghoul”, he whispered with disdain.

The sudden hostility in his tone should have shocked you but upon seeing the sorrow in his eyes, you knew exactly where this was coming from. Those were words that sprouted from the seeds of military indoctrination sown in the mind of a child who ever only got to see the worst of each supposed enemy. It reminded you that war was not the only thing that never changed.

“Quite the deduction skills, Captain Obvious”, you teased him, refusing to play into his hateful statement.

“But-”, he started but you cut him off.

“You made a promise to me yesterday. Now I kindly ask of you to leave the Elder at the Prydwen and let Arthur follow me”, you said with a mocking bow, sticking out your tongue before taking his hand and leading him towards the Memory Den.

A surge of righteous outrage swelled within his chest, roaring in anger as it fought against the audacity of your response. It felt ridiculed, left alone in a dark corner with the nagging voice of doubt that had grown louder in recent times. He did make a promise yesterday and despite suspecting that this journey would challenge everything he believed in, he still chose to accompany you. He had to buck up on his ideas, at least for now, for you and his own sake.

The glowing yellow circles in the otherwise lifeless eyes, the grimy worn pallor of the artificial skin, exposing pieces of complex machinery on the places it was torn. Arthur recognised the synth for what it was immediately, his stomach only twisting further as it presented itself as detective Nick Valentine, friend of yours. It didn't take him long to connect the dots between this machine and the first discussion you had with him about the synth. This was one of the Institute's abominations and, at the very same time, the one saving your life multiple times. And now here it was waiting for you, ready to risk its own life yet again to help you find and rescue your son from the clutches of the very institution it should be loyal to. Your answer on your first day finally had a face to it, the face of a discarded machine and that of a truth he kept denying vehemently. His mind held countless reasons to hate every synth, everything created by the Institute, but his heart began to waver, secretly driving the wedge between his convictions and yours deeper, leaving him struggling to find out which version of reality would ultimately prevail.

"Don't worry, they'll both be alright ", doctor Amari assured, a smile on her face as she continued to observe you, delving deeper into Kellogg's memories, "although I have a feeling that one of them is more important to you."

Arthur's gaze never wavered from your form, afraid to even blink for fear of missing a moment where you might be in danger, beyond his reach.

“I know who you are.”

He finally dared to look away from you towards the doctor, his lips parting but the words failed him. What did he even want to tell her? That he couldn't care less if she knew? That nothing she could say would sway him from the path he had set the Brotherhood on? That even if he wished to stray from that path, he couldn't? He was trapped, his name, its legacy, hanging like a bleak prophetic shadow over him, regardless of what he truly wanted.

“But I also know”, Amari continued, “that she made the decision to bring you here and I will place my trust in her judgment. What she has done so far, the people she has helped, there is an honest heart and open-minded soul within her.”

“And what do you think happens now?”, he finally found his voice, his words escaping in a faint and uneasy whisper.

His mind failed him, trapped in the worries around you in this moment, he didn't have the energy to summon the soldier he was expected to be.

“Nothing”, Amari chuckled, her laughter filled with a mix of amusement and reassurance, “I will keep a watchful eye on you, but as long as you care for her and show respect to those residing here, you will be welcomed. We are not the Brotherhood; we don't immediately resort to violence against those who hold different beliefs, or physiology for that matter. ”

His eyes darted to the screen just in time to see the courser vanishing with Shaun.

“Teleportation”, he muttered under his breath.

“Now it all makes sense. Nobody's found the entrance to the Institute because there IS no entrance.”, Amari spoke, her fingers swiftly tapping on the buttons of her computer as she spoke into the microphone next to the screen , “let me pull you out of there.”

Arthur couldn't tear his eyes away from Magnolia, slowly draining his drink as her voice and music hypnotised him further. The sultry tone dancing around the swinging rhythm lured him deeper into the depths of his own musings. It felt different hearing the music directly sang by someone pouring their soul into the song and touching others with a directness a radio could never replicate. He huffed, after this day, he was truly wondering if the singer was even human or one of those damned machines. He wouldn't know anymore and he grew too tired to think about it... To claim that this day had been exhausting would have been an understatement. It had been a long time since he'd experienced the world the way he did today. The Brotherhood had always kept him busy, even more so since he was appointed Elder, but despite being out there in the world, he never truly saw it. Yet, in spite of his fatigue, a part of him still yearned to leap from his seat and return to the Prydwen, armed with the newfound knowledge he had acquired to further his war against the Institute. He groaned instead, shifting his gaze from Magnolia to the empty glass he twirled between his fingers.

Your hands gently caressed his shoulder, your tender gesture prompting the first smile since both of you left the Memory Den. He seemed more quiet than usual, out of place, his usual cockiness stripped away and it caused a flicker of uncertainty within you. You questioned whether it was the right decision to bring him here but then again, these people became your allies, some of them friends, and if he was to be a part of you, he needed to witness and embrace everything that came with it. You nuzzled your face in the side of his neck, trailing kisses up to his ear.

"Mac's still not here and I'm getting tired, let's head back to our room", you whispered, leading him to the State House.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Maxson flung his jacket onto the armchair in the corner and collapsed onto the bed, absorbed in a mist of thoughts while he stared at the crumbling plaster of the ceiling, only lifting his head when he felt the mattress shift under a weight at its edge. He swallowed a groan as he watched as you crawled on top of him, gradually moving until you were lying upon him, placing a long tender kiss on his lips. The pressure and warmth of your body weighing down on him washed over his mind, clearing a path for his insatiable longing for you.

"Arthur", you breathed sultry, your eyes finding his.

There was a subtle shift in the depth of your stare, beneath the vast ocean of your deep affection, there lingered something more intense - a yearning that he had grown all too familiar with since you entered his life. Away from the ceaseless hum of the Prydwen's engine, with no danger of being interrupted by anyone at any time, the realisation of just how much you wanted to be close to him, to melt into him without ever leaving again, hit you with an overwhelming force. You moved slightly to the side, causing a gasp to escape his lips as he felt your hand gently stroke his clothed member. It didn't take long before his growing bulge felt almost painful against the confines of the tight jeans. Biting his lower lip, he watched as you unbutton his pants before pulling them down along with his underwear. The sudden coolness of the room against his throbbing erection caused him to inhale sharply; you had barely touched him, yet he was already teetering dangerously close to his limit.

"May I?", you asked, licking your lips as you settled between his thighs.

Arthur had no idea what you were implying but he knew he'd take whatever you offered him. He hissed as your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock, swallowing it slowly until all of it was buried in the wet warmth of your mouth. He'd touched himself many times in the solitude of his quarters but this felt unlike any pleasure he was ever able to give himself.

"I...I...I don't know for how long I can take this", he stuttered, "I've never been with anyone, not like this."

His confession tugged at your heartstrings. Here you were, lying in bed with the one man, whose Brotherhood almost lifted him into the realm of legends due his deeds and leadership, bare before each other in a rare moment of vulnerability of him admitting that you were the very first to grant him this kind of intimacy. It saddened you, realising that this man, whose soul revealed a profound connection and gentle nature, had never been seen in this light by anyone before. Despite the Brotherhood's reverence and adoration for him, they failed to recognise the beauty within his soul. But he'd no longer be alone for he had you now. You continued bobbing your head, twirling your tongue around the tip each time. You barely managed to do this five times before you felt his cock twitch, his warm release filling your mouth as the sound of your name mingled with long sinful moans dripping from his lips. You eagerly swallowed every drop he offered, and with one final lick, you crawled back to lie beside him, offering him a gentle smile. It took him a few deep breaths to recover before he settled on his knees, slowly starting to undress you before taking off his own t-shirt, leaving both of you completely bare before each other. His steel-blue gaze trailed over you body, brows furrowed as if he desperately tried to burn every little detail of you into his memories while his hands trailed over your soft skin. He remembered a part of that book he once stole in the Citadel, eager to try if those old words held any truth. Leaning in, he licked and sucked on your nipple while his hand ventured down between your legs, two fingers slowly dragging through your folds. His inexperienced touch and movements might have been slightly rough and uncoordinated, but they elicited the sweetest moans from you. He noticed that that every time his fingertips grazed against your clit, your legs quivered ever so slightly and your moans grew needier. You opened your eyes at the sudden lack of his touches and found him staring at his fingers, coated with your wetness. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you witnessed his fascination with something so ordinary, highlighting how his life must have been devoid of intimacy all these years.

"All for you", you whispered, earning a genuine smile from him.

"Do you truly want this?", he asked, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.

You remained silent, aware that words alone would never be enough to convey the depth of your desires in this moment. Instead, you pushed him onto his back, straddling him as you pressed your wetness against his cock, grinding against it and feeling him grow hard again.

"There is nothing I want more than being here with you, feeling you, loving you", you breathed, pausing your movements, "you're all I ever wanted."

Arthur's heart felt as if it were on the verge of shattering at your words. He had been going through life without ever experiencing such affection and tenderness. For the first time, he felt truly wanted, even loved, not just for his name, his purpose, but for his soul, his own true essence.

"I don't recognise that feeling plaguing my heart and mind but if this is truly love", a teardrop welled up in the corner of his eye, "then allow me to tell you that I love you."

You positioned his cock at your entrance, moaning his name, feeling him stretch you perfectly as his cock was sliding deep inside you. His hands clasped unto your hips, fingers digging into your supple flesh while he held you in place for a moment, overwhelmed by the sheer pleasure. Your walls clenched around his twitching cock and you slowly began moving, placing your hands on his chest while your gaze locked onto his. Arthur began thrusting his hips upwards, anticipating your movements. The lewd sounds of him thrusting deep inside your wetness filled the room, entangling with the heavy breaths and lustful moans. Arthur watched your head fall back in pleasure as you rode him and he couldn't care for anything anymore in this very moment. The Brotherhood, his war, held no significance at this moment, all he cared for was the closeness to you, the love which bound you together and the heavenly bliss you had brought upon him. Both of you approached the edge fast and your moans grew louder as both of you finally plunged into the abyss of purest pleasure. Panting, you tried to get off him but Arthur pulled you down on him, his arms wrapping around you, holding you in a tight hug, both of you surrendering to the irresistible lure of slumber.

Chapter 8 - why do fools fall in love?

Feel free to reblog if you enjoyed the story :)

9 notes · View notes

slocumjoe · 3 months

Note

I was wondering if you had any recommendations of fo4 fanfictions/writers you enjoy the work of?

You know, this actually is a point I've wanted to talk about in general, but never really had a reason to. The thing is, I don't like fallout 4 fanfic. I tried once and decided it was just not my content of choice.

Fallout 4 has a pretty sizable fic issue of, "Every single world is different." This is true of almost all stories where the protagonist is very easily...interchangeable. If you can make your character, chances are, they have their own looks, decisions, choices, opinions, backstories, quirks, relationships, et cetera. It is a whole new character that the world turns around, every single time.

So, the first issue here, is that it takes away from the benefit of fanfic being a story you don't have to get invested in. You know the characters and their deals, let's rock and roll. But with a new Addition, the author has to sell you on them, often quickly. However, you will have your own character that you've put into this world, and I personally prefer looking at my guy than others. People tend to not like (not hate, just not prefer) ships with certain pairings, right? So, if I invest a lot of brain power thinking about Danse and Augustijn, if I open a Sole X Danse fic, and I see Danse macking on a Sole who isn't...who Sole is to me, it's a large adjustment, especially if I'm not sold on the other Sole as their own character.

Another thing I tend to dislike is fics set in the perspective of Sole, rather than the other characters. I know the other characters already, and I'd prefer to spend time with them, than get invested in the new guy, as I said before. But people set the POV as sole to help speed along the whole selling thing.

So, few technical things, but when I did sample fallout 4 fanfic, the actual content I saw was just...so not for me.

Fallout 4 fanfic, last I checked, is;

Cute college aged white girl with Danse/Maxson/Both of them

Cute college aged white girl with Nick

Cute college aged white girl with Hancock

Cute College aged white girl with Deacon

Cute College aged white girl with MacCready

Cute college aged white girl with...deathclaws?

I find that many Soles tend to be supermodels with fairly shallow characterization, because they're self-inserts. They're just there to look good up against whichever white dude the author has the hots for. That's fine, we don't shame, it's just...I don't like it. Again, I like the characters I know, and in those types of fics, the characterization of the Male Companions tends to veer hard left into "wow this supermodel lady is so hot and cute and she's so sad I have to save her." It's just tedious for me.

Last I tried fo4 fanfic, it was...2018, 2019, I think, so things could have changed. But if I go to the top rated fics on ao3, the first page is just smut "The Vault Girl has a sweet ass/was maybe a pin up model, and oh no, (insert man) jerks off to her every single night!" It just makes me roll my eyes.

I could recommend content creators but chances are, you're following them already. In terms of fic...all I got for you is rad-roche's Unmade Man series. Required reading for this blog.

Not meaning to yuck anyone's yum, it's just that your yum is my yuck.

I used to write fanfic for fallout 4, if anyone remembers My Hope And My Fear Is Human Interaction. Initially titled Strawberry Donuts Of War. I took it down like an idiot because my own mental health was going right down the shitter, and trying to write that story and verbalize my own shit was kinda triggering. Fond memories, though. I also wrote three Danse x Sole fics, and took them down for "This is making me cringe" reasons.

Maybe one day.

16 notes · View notes

danses-with-dogmeat · 1 year

Note

🐍🐕 Joshua Graham for “I should have never trusted you.”? I love your work

"Wait I messed up the angst thing is deathclaw, sorry I did not look close enough for the Joshua Graham one 😩"

FINALLY I get to be mean to this awful man, omg.

Okay, sorry, had to get that out. No, but I think Joshua is an endlessly interesting character to explore, but... yeah, not the most morally correct of fellows, so it's nice to be able to call him on it 😅

But anyways, I hope you like it!

"I was wrong about you." Six said hollowly, their eyes distant as they peered down into the sand.

"Six..." Joshua's smooth timbre, muffled slightly by the linen cloth that shielded his features, passed over their ears. It was as soothing as the day they'd met him.

The day where he began to convince them of his righteousness, the justness of his cause, how far he'd come in his own personal journey towards the light. It all was the reason he was living, when anyone else would have perished, the reason for leaving the Legion, it was the purpose he was meant for. How could the courier have denied him? When the evidence was burned upon his flesh for anyone with eyes to see, or with hands to feel.

A missionary, bringing the glory of his beliefs to the indecisive tribals of the surrounding lands beyond New Canaan.

He was doing them a favor.

Saving them from themselves, from their sinful, heathen ways.

How could I have been so blind?

The courier's head shook, still in disbelief at their own ignorance.

"You never changed. You just... Don't have the Legion behind you anymore, but you're doing the same shit that began it."

"You're wrong." His voice was low now, dangerous, filled with the same cool fury they saw flashing in his stark, blue eyes. "Sallow would never be able--"

"Caesar and you are the same." They interrupted with a groan, "You both started the practices that became the Legion together. The violence, the disrespect for anything that doesn't resemble your ideal culture, imposing your ideas onto anyone misfortunate enough to align with the paths you've mapped across the Mojave. Using them to your advantage with no consideration of what is truly best for them, for their people."

"We've done more for the tribals of these lands than you could've ever imagined. Their lives were chaos, they were devoid of meaning, bleeding sin and uncertainty. I'm providing them with a path. A road to the righteousness that--"

"Oh, bullshit! That's your own perspective talking, Joshua. Did any one of them actually consent to your manipulation? To taking your beliefs as their own? To their wives becoming slaves? Their sons becoming soldiers? Their men being forced to fight for you or die?"

The former Legate bared his teeth below his bandages, his scowl scrunching the space between his eyes in a vicious snarl.

"That was the Legion. Alone, I have made no such threats, taken no such action. I've only provided opportunity."

"Only because you don't have the manpower. What happens when you gain followers once more? When the Dead Horses rally behind you, as they've already started doing? Just like the Blackfoots once did with you and Caesar. Then whose to stop them, to stop you? When the pillaging and raping and forced assimilations all begin anew in the name of some righteous being that they may or may not even believe exists?"

Joshua recoiled at the vision they painted for him, at the future they saw for him, the one he'd have died getting away from if the Lord hadn't spared him for this new purpose.

How could they not see it his way?

The glory and mercy of God saved me from a cruel and terrible fate. Do they not see that that is exactly what I want for the tribals? The Dead Horses welcomed me, and provided an answer to the violence that took place in New Canaan. How could I not take advantage of this opportunity the Lord so plainly provided me with?

He saw nothing wrong with his plans. He would gift the Dead Horses with the glory of his God, with the knowledge to save them from the fiery pit of hell in the afterlife. He would bring them to righteousness, to understand that their way of life is wrong and wretched by comparison, that suffering in the next life is inevitable if they do not follow his teachings and do as he bids them.

He would save them, as God once spared his wretched life.

And in return, they would help him avenge the deaths of the good people of New Canaan.

A small favor for what they receive in return.

His work is anything but the selfish conquering the Legion has practiced since they lost their way, all those years ago.

"If you do not see the reason behind my actions," He began, trying in vain to keep his voice level, "Knowing my past and my story, knowing full-well what God's grace is capable of, then I cannot help you."

Six sighed then, and Joshua's eyes narrowed in expectation.

"I never should have sought you out." They whispered, shaking their head as they spoke, "Never should have trusted you. I should have known that anyone responsible for the horrors that the Legion has wrought all across the Mojave and beyond would never truly change."

"The fact that you do not believe I have changed only proves your ignorance. You did not know the man I was before..."

"But I did."

Joshua's brows furrowed, his covered lips poised for a searing response.

"Maybe not personally," They continued, "but you told me everything about yourself. The monster you once were, how much better you are now, but if that's true... I can't imagine how horrid you must have been, how truly delusional... to be able watch everything, to participate in everything the Legion has done."

"Then you must not have been listening." He spat the words, as though it pained him when they left his throat.

"Still, then..." Six's voice was calmer now, the initial venom sucked out by Joshua's admittance, "With everything you've done, everything you have and haven't admitted to when you were in the Legion, do you really think... that you deserve a second chance?"

Now Joshua sighed, suddenly looking so tired at the thought of defending himself and his actions of his own accord.

"Who am I to argue with my creator?" He asked them simply, "And who are you to question the will of God the Almighty?"

Six's brows hardened over their eyes as they firmly held his gaze.

"Someone who thinks, no matter what your God says, that no man who is comparable to Caesar should ever get a second chance."

Joshua surprised them as a noise akin to a slight chuckle sounded through his wrappings.

"To that, courier, I say it is only righteous to hate the sin, but to still love the sinner. For, if I am able to do so, even after all that Sallow has done to myself personally, is that not worth something in your eyes?"

#1.5k celebration #1.5k event #fallout #fallout companions #fallout npc #fallout new vegas #fallout new vegas companions #joshua graham fonv #joshua fonv #fallout joshua graham #deathclaw

40 notes · View notes

the-hoarse-bard · 2 years

Text

The northern passage was, well, north of my home. There was a small grave outside the entrance to the tunnel. The marker didn't give a name, but I tipped my hat to whoever was buried there as I went into the mouth of the tunnel.

A small group of six were in the cave, four guards checking over their gear, a cheery-looking man in overalls whose voice I recognized from the advert on the radio, and a very shifty looking guy in a vault suit with a pip-boy on his wrist leaning against one of the tunnel supports. Jed would probably be the best place to start.

Jed's voice had a lot more timbre not being heard through the tinny pip-boy speaker. He greeted me warmly, and took my hand, "Howdy, friend. Heard my broadcast, did you?" He glanced down at my pip-boy, "Yeah, you look the type," He released my hand, and I tipped my hat to him, "Yep. I'm a courier by trade, but business has been slow lately, so I figured I'd sign on for this expedition." Jed stuck his hands in his pockets, "Well, I'd hate to disappoint you, but as long as Ricky over there is around," he pointed to the high-strung young man in the vault suit, "I don't think we'll need you. Tell ya what though, if you can get Ricky to chicken out, we'll have you on board. I'll be honest, I like the look of him a lot less than you."

Jed went back to walking over his checklist with the guards, and I turned my attention to Ricky. He was tapping his foot on the stone tunnel floor, and drumming a tense tune on his arm, looking almost like he was ready to snap right in half at the drop of a pin. I walked up to him calmly, "So, I hear your name's Ricky?" He looked up at me, his bloodshot eyes darting toward me from behind the cop shades on his face, "Hm? Yeah, yeah that's me. You looking for trouble, bud? Cuz I got plenty to spare." He gave me a smile, I could see he was missing a canine on the left side of his mouth.

I shrugged, "Well, this trip only needs one pip-boy, so it looks like we're competing for the spot," Ricky's smile fell from his face, "Yeah? Well, I'm one of a kind, see? I've been places and done things, lot's of 'em!" I stayed quiet, I could tell he was readying some bullshit story as we spoke, "Anything makes the mistake of pissing off Ricky, I'll deadeye him, her or it. In fact, that's my nickname, yeah! 'Deadeye' Ricky." I crossed my arms, "Uhuh, yeah, sure," He continued, "Why, uh, once, I got jumped by three.... Deathjaws! Except, actually, it was four of them! Imagine that!" I raised an eyebrow, "'Deathjaws' huh? You sure you don't mean deathclaws?" His eye twitched a little, but he doubled down, "Nope, you heard me right, deathjaws! They're like deathclaws, but with bigger teeth!"

Ricky didn't even pause for a breath, "Or, there was the time one of them Steel Brotherhood assholes made the mistake of messing with me! Last mistake he ever made!" I shoved my hands into my pockets, "'Steel Brotherhood'.... Do you mean Brotherhood of Steel?" His eyes avoided mine as he thought of a retort, "Uh, well... What's it sound like I'm saying? If I was saying what you said I was saying, then yeah, I said it!" He was cracking, "I was walking right along, and up pops one of them Brotherhoods. He yells, 'hand over that laser rifle, asshole!' and I do, just to make him think I'm scared. But I'm not, because I never am. I draw my 11mm machinegun and BAM! BAM! Right through his eyeslit! D.O.A," I leaned forward, "Too bad there's no such thing as an 11mm machinegun." Ricky gulped and stammered, "Uh, there is so! Or was it 9 or a 10, I don't know! I don't care! Said I was good at killin' shit, not good with numbers!"

I stood back up straight to get away from Ricky's breath. I could see that he had a bad case of cottonmouth, too, "So where ya from, Ricky?" He relaxed a little at me backing off, "Well, I grew up near Dayglow out west, so yeah, I grew a third nut that glows in the dark!" I looked him up and down, "Then where'd you get the pip-boy and the vault suit? There's no vault in Dayglow," The sweat returned to his face, "N-Nice job, eagle eye! Yeah, I got a pit-boy," I corrected him, "Pip-boy," He swallowed, "Yeah, that, pip-boy! And a vault suit, too! What of it?"

I looked Ricky dead in the eye, "So where'd you get them?" He scoffed, "Vault two-two, where you think? It's where I grew up!" I raised an eyebrow again, "So where's that?" He shifted his eyes left and right, "I-I can't tell you that, I am sworn to secrecy, or something like that... To the people I left behind!" He smiled, sure he was safe. I called his bluff, "You're lying. You have no idea where it is." He stopped smiling and he tried to say something before sighing and giving up, "Y-yeah, you caught me. I may have been exaggerating a little. Truth is, I got this here pit-boy and vault suit off a dead prospector who came out of Zion. Guy was dead when I found him, okay? Had a ton of shit on him, that's how I know there's good loot in Zion!"

I looked down at Ricky's pip-boy, and noticed something, "Hey Ricky... You know how that thing works right?" I pointed to the pip-boy, and he said, "Y-yeah, it makes me more badass! Jed says it has maps and shit, that's why I'm here!" I looked him in the eye, "Well, then you should know it's not working. The screen's locked up and the reboot button is missing," He got angry at that and yelled, "Bullshit! Ain't nothing wrong with my pit-boy, I mean pip-boy!" Jed looked over at us concerned, Ricky pulled me into a huddle, looking nervous, "Look, this gig is sweet for me! Don't go blowing it for me. What do you want anyway?" I smirked, "What I want is for you to scram, Ricky. This expedition doesn't need you." He stood up, and yelled again, "Fine! You win, asshole! Have fun leading the expedition into an ambush! I hope you all die!" Ricky scampered out of the cave, everyone staring at him.

Jed walked over to me, laughing, "Haha, good work son, the job's all yours now! It was fun getting to watch Ricky squirm, too. So, the pay is 25 caps per day, half up front, half on return. It's gonna be dangerous, Utah's full of regional warlords and gangs like the 80's. Not a lot of safe places to stop and rest, and we're imposing a weight limit. We'll be going through some box canyons, and we don't want anyone getting stuck." I nodded, "Don't worry about me, Jed. I've hauled myself across the whole Mojave. I can handle it." He smiled, "Well, your gear all looks in order, let's get going then. I'll fill you in on the situation in New Canaan along the way." The guards finished up their equipment checks, and we all headed out the east end of the tunnel. Toward Zion.

#story post #Will #New Vegas #Honest Hearts #northern passage

8 notes · View notes

sassenashsworld · 1 year

Text

Bar's stories - Nick Valentine

I wonder if we could have avoided the situation.

“And you, Valentine. We never hear you say anything about your adventures with Nora.”

Preston hands me a glass of oil and I approach to sit beside him. The kid always looks at me intensively, waiting for my line.

“What?”

“He’s right” says Piper. “You always sit there and listen to us when we talk about Nora, but nothing sweats on your end.”

“It’s not like it’s possible for me to sweat.”

My companions of fortune now look at me all intensely.

“I’m not playing your juicy game. If Nora has something to say, she’ll tell you.”

“Come on” insists Handcock, “one story, just one story.”

This guy has a way of asking…

“We were on the road to the northeast near Med-Tek. Nora saw a small group of radstags. She was hungry.”

Preston agree.

“She can always be hungry, she always gives her food to others.”

“We were on a mission for Greentop but we had been on the road for a while. We were running out of ammunition. Nora has only two balls left for Silver. She’s aiming at a beautiful big female. It’s all right. Then a...grunt. The male charges Nora.”

I have the entire audience hanging on my lips. I tell no great stories. A buck who thinks he was a Yao Guai, that’s all. Although it reminds me of that day when two deathclaws were fighting on the road…

“So, while I try to aim at the beast without exploding Nora’s skull, she punches him with the butt of Silver. It took her six hours to skin the animals, which she finally gave the colony the meat from, and another three hours to realign the gun. And it’s also the story behind her scar in her neck.”

«It’s vicious, a deer» Robert approves.

I hear laughing next to me. The filing cabinet is locked in the office and my friend is joining us, apparently having heard the end of my story.

“He doesn’t tell you how he gets the idea of hitting a mutant in the face with his pistol pipe, huh?

“In my humble defense, said mutant went through the floor and fell right in front of me. I mean, literally. Maybe I reacted in the rush.”

She bursts out laughing. I make room for her by my side while Preston squeezes deeper and she lets herself down laughing. It’s strange to see her so cheerful tonight, but it’s definitely good for my old synthetic heart.

“I don’t know what was pissier; the big ugly wonder or seeing you hit his face without making him blink.”

“I thought I’d end up in horseshoes!”

#nick valentine #preston #hancock #maccready #piper #nora #fallout 4 #bar's stories #nora is silver

2 notes · View notes

nightingaelic · 3 years

Note

Very few things are known for sure about the courier one of the few things that are known is that the Courier does not like to stay in one place and prefers to wander, so companions react to the courier who is about to leave the Mojave for a long ass time asking them to join them in their wondering because they grew attached them

I move every couple of years and I just moved again recently so I feel this one kind of hard, @orion-the-king

After a year of constant turmoil, uncertain futures and clashes culminating in a final battle at Hoover Dam, the swirl of hot blood and hotter Mojave sand died down like any other desert storm. Caravans resumed their old routes. Gamblers kept losing money at the Strip. Bears and bulls no longer met each other in open conflict, and the courier who had once been at the center of it all began to grow restless.

After the third time their companion caught them sneaking out of the Lucky 38 in the small hours of the morning, they set their pack down on one of the perpetually-empty roulette tables and sighed. "I'm done here. I know there are things I could still do, but that goes for anywhere, not just New Vegas. Hell, 'anywhere' is calling me right now, and I've never been very good at ignoring her."

They looked up, hesitant all of a sudden. "Come with me. I don't know where I'm going, I don't know if I'll ever come back, but I want... I'd like you there with me, on the road."

Arcade Gannon: "Six..." Arcade ran a hand through his hair, turned away, stared up at the blinking neon sign above the Lucky 38's elevators. "I'm... I don't know if I can. The Followers need all the help they can get now, and there's my family to think about, too. They're all I have, besides you."

The courier nodded. "I know. Well, as far as the Followers are concerned, I think you could spread their teachings wherever we went, but family... I guess that's why I had to ask."

That caught Arcade off guard. He looked down at them again, wide-eyed. "Are you saying...?"

They smiled back at him. "Yeah. You're mine. Closest thing I've got to a family. But... I can't pull you away from yours. Wouldn't be right."

Despite his best attempts, Arcade couldn't contain a smile. "Fortis fortuna adiuvat."

"That's the second time you've said that to me," the courier replied, a tad suspiciously. "What does it mean?"

"Nothing bad," Arcade reassured them. "Can you wait a few days before you set out? There are some things I should take care of here before we hit the road."

Craig Boone: Boone pressed his lips together in thought for a moment. "East or west?"

"Either one," the courier answered, catching his drift. "Or neither. I've never been south. At least, I don't think I have."

"Alright." Boone crossed his arms. "But if it's east, you know what we'll have to do."

"I know. But that would be the direction we'd be least likely to come back from." The courier looked the sniper over carefully. "You're sure?"

Boone nodded. "Might be too much to handle. Even for us."

The courier held their hand out. "Could be. You in?"

Boone grabbed their hand, and the courier pulled him in to press their shoulder to his chest and slap him on the back. "Let's go."

Lily Bowen: "Oh, pumpkin," Lily said sadly. "You have a good life here. You're sure you want to leave it behind?"

The courier grimaced. "It's a good life, but it... it doesn't feel like mine, anymore. Like I didn't choose it. Can you understand that?"

Lily nodded solemnly. "All too well, dearie. All too well. But you shouldn't wander into the desert without some idea of where you want to go."

"Well..." The courier looked up at her shyly. "Where do you want to go, Lily?"

Lily stood still, lost in thought and the fragmented memories that she clung to. When she finally answered, her tone of voice was heartbreaking. "Home."

The courier took her hand in theirs and massaged her palm. "Then let's go home. Together."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: "So no plan, as usual." Raul shook his head, but he couldn't help a smirk at the familiarity of the situation. "And you thought you'd just slip out the door in the middle of the night, boss?"

"I've been picking up supplies in Freeside," the courier answered indignantly. "I do plan some things."

Raul chuckled and stepped forward to put a hand on the courier's shoulder. "Of course I'll come, mij@. It's not like I have a whole lot going on in my life unless you're in it."

The courier stuck their tongue out at him. "I thought you hated when I dragged you into new and exciting situations, viejo."

"New and exciting, no. Dangerous? Sí." Raul grinned. "Me gusta tenerte en mi vida, Six. You couldn't leave me behind if you tried."

They matched his grin. "Then go get your guns, vaquero."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: Cass yawned. "And this couldn't wait 'til morning? I'm still recovering from that week we spent tracking down those Vikki and Vance wannabes."

"You've been sleeping for days," the courier shot back with a chuckle. "If you haven't recovered by now, you're never going to. You're getting old, Cass."

"How dare you." Cass fluttered a hand over her chest in mock offense. "I'm still on the good side of 40, last I checked. I could still go toe-to-toe with a deathclaw."

She pointed a finger at the courier and scowled. "Not that that's an invitation to lead me into a den of those critters, Six."

The courier laughed. "So you're in?"

"Of course I am. Can't very well let you wander off into the wastes by your lonesome."

Veronica Santangelo: "Um..." Veronica tugged on her own sleeve and bit her lip. "I don't know if I should."

"Is it...?"

"Yeah." Veronica rolled her eyes around in mock exasperation. "I mean, what else would it be? It's not like I have a whole lot going on, besides the situation with the Brotherhood."

The courier looked down at their feet. "Veronica, don't take this the wrong way, but I don't think sticking around here will make them any more likely to change their minds."

"I know, I know." Veronica shrugged sadly. "But it's not that easy to just leave either, you know? They're family."

"Yeah, I know." The courier looked up at her with a sad smile. "It's okay. I guess I didn't really... I just hoped..."

They left the sentence hanging and grabbed their things again, heading for the door. Veronica watched them go, but by the time they grabbed a hold of the door's handle, she knew she'd made a mistake.

"Wait!" she cried, dashing toward them. "Give me 20 minutes to pack, Six. Then we can..."

The courier grabbed hold of her and drew her into a hug. Veronica was surprised, but she sank into it gratefully.

ED-E: The eyebot beeped an affirmation, then turned to float toward the casino door.

The courier chuckled and shouldered their pack again. "Well okay. Don't know what I expected, honestly. You know you can say no to me, right?"

ED-E blipped twice in a sarcastic way.

Rex: Rex whined, looking between the door and the courier in confusion. He moved to position himself in their way, as if begging them not to leave.

The courier dropped to one knee and took the cyberdog's face in their hands. "It's okay, boy. I already talked to the King. He says he's so busy in Freeside these days, he wouldn't mind if you did some traveling with me so you could get out and about."

Rex barked once and cocked his head to the side. The courier laughed. "Yeah, we'll go see him again before we leave. Don't worry."

180 notes · View notes

fallout-drabbles-n-stuff · 3 years

Note

Can I ask what it would be like for Solsu having to take care of drunk romanced companions? Bonus points if they're told about their shenanigans afterword.

Cait:

(Angry drunk)

•It's best that you don't drink in polite company with her. She's already a feisty individual with a burning passion for inflicting pain, you make her drunk and it's only a matter of time before she incites some horrible fight.

•Sounds funny, but it's really not. Reign her back. Please.

Curie:

.......you aren't really gonna let her drink, right? I highly advise you don't....

Danse:

(Horny drunk 👀)

•Danse hardly ever partakes in more than a couple glasses with company and this is exactly why.

•At first it all starts off nice and smooth, just Danse beginning to gradually relax- which is "outstanding" considering his usual rigid disposition. However once that fine line of too many drinks have been crossed, all hell breaks loose.

•It'll start with comments on your appearance, simple incessant "you look beautiful"s spoken with dazed eyes...then it escalates to Danse pulling you into his lap where you're met with his obvious "intentions" prodding you in the ass, all while being held in a bear hug from a blushing, smiling Paladin who happens to look like a kicked puppy when you make him calm down with a drink of water. Don't worry, he might mope but he'll quit if you tell him to.

•Perks back up when you tell him it's time to go to bed...only to mope even more when he realizes that no, it isn't for sexy times. No worries, he'll be happy so long as you let him hold you..

•Is absolutely ashamed and horrified of his behavior when he wakes up and you tell him what went down. Probably will hide his face in his pillows and try to disappear. Swears he won’t drink again and make a fool of himself like that….will totally drink some more.

•Just be lucky he wasn’t feeling melancholic like a post BB Danse would.

Deacon:

(Stupid drunk..)

•Ever seen that one video of that guy busting through drywall like Kool-Aid Man? That's Deacon's level of maturity when properly intoxicated.

•No worries, Desdemona is going to bitch at him from the time he does something too stupid until he isn't even drunk anymore. Frankly, he deserves it too- he's destructive, reckless, and...well..hilarious, but that doesn't mean it's redeemable!

•He seems to perfectly remember all his antics, some he even reflects upon with a proud grin..until his hangover ends up making him wince in pain. Just...take care of him, there isn't any point in trying to scold him. Des has that covered anyways.

Gage:

(Emotional drunk)

•A drunk gage was both extremely rare because of his genuine hate for alcohol and also very shocking. Sure, one may assume that someone so rugged and tough like a raider- especially Gage- would have no issue handling his liquor....oh how wrong you could be...

•You weren't entirely sure what happened, much less where he got the idea, but somehow Gage got the absurd notion that you decided he wasn't good enough for you and you were going to just leave him behind. He'd keep it in for a while, slowly growing more quiet as he took practical gulps of his drink. That doesn't last.

•Eventually he starts to cry, silent tears pouring from his good eye. Whenever you actually notice, it's too late. Just pray no one else is around when this next part happens.

•All it takes is you coming to his side, placing a comforting hand on his back and he crumbles. He'll grab you and push his face into your chest and start sobbing, wailing incoherently as he begs you to not leave him.

•It might seem humorous, but it raised several questions.

•The morning after his outburst, you wake up extra early to present him with a half way decent breakfast in bed- extra grease on the food for good measure. Once he seems to be more coherent, you make sure to talk to him about his apparent fear of you not loving him...which brings him close to tears once again whenever you finally convince him that you do in fact love him and won't ever leave his side so long as he loves you back.

Hancock:

(Stealthy drunk)

•Unfortunately, the mayor of Goodneighbor doesn't really have any fun antics..well at least any that would point to him being intoxicated. Sorry.

Macready:

(Over indulging drunk)

•Mac is arguably the best one to get shit faced with, especially if you like drugs and food. Oh yeah, something about eating while intoxicated is irresistible to him. Think of it like munchies, but in Mac's case, five times as bad.

• After a couple drinks, Mac nonchalantly will reach into his pocket- gesturing for you to come close- before putting a cigarette in your mouth and lighting up- using your's to light his own. If you don't set a stopping point, the two of you will wake up down two packs, several empty containers of jet, and crumbs everywhere.

•When faced with the consequences of his gluttony, Mac will just sit there and whine as his stomach does cartwheels. That's punishment enough...

Maxson:

(Mr. Vomits-a-lot drunk)

•It takes a whole hell of a lot for Maxson to get shitfaced thanks to his rather strict habitual drinking. After all, it would be a strange day if you didn't see him knock a bottle of whisky out before finally turning in..which was kind of sad come to think of it..

•Nonetheless, he does occasionally push his limits when he's especially stressed and it's never pleasant when he does.

•It was sort of funny, in retrospect. One minute you and him were sitting on the flight deck together, casually talking whilst finishing off a bottle of shitty vodka (unknowing that he had already burned through countless bottles before meeting you) when suddenly Arthur started to look pale. It just kept getting worse until eventually he was frantically motioning for you to follow him as he ran to the railings, sticking his head over before throwing up whatever was on his stomach..sending it to a several hundred foot drop below.

•It's a good thing you held him, otherwise the brotherhood might've been short an elder and you short a partner.

•When confronted with his..let's say "overindulgence", he'll sort of look away and try to change the subject. It's probably best if you try to hide liquor for a while.

Nick:

(Doesn't drink....)

Old Longfellow:

With his age and experience? He's the same as Hancock.

Piper:

(Daredevil drunk)

•Hope you're sober, because if you aren't- there's a good chance you'll be spending the night in Diamond City Jail.

•Piper is reckless on a good day, putting alcohol with that in mass quantities and she's wild. Just hope you have strong will, because she sure as shit isn't going to back down easy.

•It's kind of funny, but her go to is to do crazy shit. Jump off the roof? Hold her cup. Want to vandalize the great green wall? Fuck yeah. Nothing beats the time she wasn't careful and threw a lit cigarette down Ann Codman's cleavage during a heated argument with her.

•She has no regrets either, so don't expect her to be remorseful in the morning whenever you tell her what she did. If anything, she'll just laugh next time she sees Ann.

Preston:

(Over thinking drunk)

•If it wasn't lowkey annoying, you'd probably think Preston's drunken neuroticism was hilarious. Not to be gotten wrong, but even sober, your love could be extremely insistent..mix his anxious attitude with liquor and you end up with a terrible night.

•You knew better than to let him have more than a couple beers, seeing as his tolerance wasn't exactly the best, and yet here you were. Preston pensively sitting at the bar beside you, rich eyes narrowed and focused on the liquid in his glass- his hands resting against his head.

•"I know you're dying to ask...." "Okay babe, since you brought it up...do you think putting electrical wire around our people's settlements would be a bad idea? It might closely resemble a prison but it's for their own good. Wait- shit, what about the kids? Oh god..."

•He may just sheepishly rub the back of his head and apologize in the morning..but he'll be quick to revisit some of the key points and ideas with you if you so much as give him a chance.

X6-88:

(Ridiculous drunk)

•It was only one time..thankfully.

•You, and your whole group of friends had to convince him to try it out- but once he started, he couldn't stop.

•This asshole would throw down drinks faster than Hancock..which was terrible considering his painfully low tolerance to alcohol.

•One thing goes to another and next thing you know, "The Wanderer" is playing in the background, X is singing and dancing like an idiot, and everyone is gathered around- terrified at what they were seeing. It's sort of like seeing a deathclaw do ballet- so, totally understandable.

•He dares you to bring it up later, dares you.

182 notes · View notes

commonwealthoccurences · 2 years

Note

buddy hear me out—

the ''what you're doing right now is really stupid but you're so cute i can't help but laugh at it'' scenario but it’s deacon and the sosu (aka deacon being caught off guard by sosu being kinda of an idiot sometimes but being whipped nonetheless) (better yet if the situation would be in another case not a laughing matter or potentially dangerous but its the sosu, so)

Hope this was what you were looking for! <3 -- Deacon should probably stop them.

Deacon should really stop them, before they got hurt.

For some reason they thought it was a good idea to play a game with a blind Deathclaw, dodging away from it’s claws at the last minute as it tried to figure out where it’s pesky prey was running off to. And because it was Sole, they were laughing like it was the most fun they’d had in weeks.

Maybe keeping them in the Railroad Headquarters for long periods of time was a worse idea than he thought.

Deacon couldn’t help but laugh along, considering the pure exhilaration in their eyes, and the way they were grinning, like it really was a game and not one of the deadliest animals in the Commonwealth they were messing with. If it was anyone other than Sole, he’d have yanked them out by now, but Sole knew what they were doing. Maybe that was part of the problem.

When they ducked past yet another swipe of razor sharp claws, giggling as they darted away, slightly breathless, Deacon found it was time to intervene. Them running out of air was practically a death sentence. He brought his fingers to his lips swiftly and whistled, watching carefully as the Deathclaw’s head whipped around to sniff in his direction. He thanked rigorous training for his strong arm as he hurled a flashbang into the distance. It went off and the Deathclaw took off running towards the sound.

Sole joined him moments later, laughing and catching their breath. “You’re no fun.” They teased.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to spoil the fun by saving your life. You can thank me when you come to your senses.” He shoved their shoulder and swiftly moved to yank them back upright by their arm when they nearly stumbled over.

They both were reduced to breathless laughter rather quickly, leaning on each other for support as they watched the Deathclaw snuffle around in the distance, still searching for the source of the obnoxious racket. Sole finally caught their breath, but Deacon couldn’t quite seem to, looking down at their carefree grin. They looked for a moment longer and then opened their mouth to say something to him, glancing upwards. They were taken aback to see him already looking at them with an expression they had never seen before. “What?” They asked.

“Nothing?” Deacon shook his head and looked back at the Deathclaw.

“No, seriously, what?” Sole shoved him, insistent.

“I was just thinking, it’s kinda amazing, y’know? How you beat the odds.”

“Beat the odds?” Sole’s face grew a little more serious, more fond than the overjoyed expression their adrenalin rush had brought forth.

“Yeah. I mean, you’re so stupid to be pulling stunts like that, I’m amazed you’re still alive. The miracles of nature.”

Sole shoved him wholeheartedly this time, throwing their entire body weight against him. “Are you fucking kidding me?” They tried their hardest to sound angry, but their laughter overtook the fake upset in their tone.

Deacon started to fight back, attempting to get the upperhand in their small wrestling match, but they were quickly interrupted by the sound, and feeling, of footsteps. Deathclaw footsteps. Sole looked up and saw the blind Deathclaw finally moving to return to where it had been resting before Sole had gotten to it; a couple yards away from them. “We’ve gotta move. Now.”

#Fallout 4 #Fo4 #Deacon #Fluff #Pining #kind of #Oneshot #Fanfic

29 notes · View notes

lookbluesoup · 2 years

Note

I'm particularly interested in "Nate's Deflowering" and "Putting Nora to Rest" if you're up for them!

Thanks for the ask! :D

I answered Nate's Deflowering here, but I can give you another little snippet from slightly earlier in it:

She kissed him, reaching for a hand which Nate clasped eagerly. Nora dragged it downward, urging his fingers beneath the lip of her skirt where heat was already pooling between her legs.

Nate broke the kiss abruptly, doe-eyed as he pulled away. “What are you doing?”

Nora scoffed, a little stiff in response to the harshness of her suitor’s rejection. “Haven’t you ever been with a woman before?”

He hesitated, moonish eyes stuck on her and seemingly unable to blink, then retorted with a defensive grimace, “Have you?”

“Maybe.” Nora smirked, but the grin faltered as suspicion claimed her. “Nate Ronan, am I really the first girl who’s ever wanted to sleep with you?”

AND NOW FOR PAIN :)

There's actually a LOT I wanna say about this one so picking just a handful of things was hard xD I've never quite managed to decide where to set this in Nate's timeline, except that it's before he and Piper are officially together. It's one of my rougher WIPs that has a lot of potential to change if I can ever manage to finish it. When Nate wakes up from cryo he doesn't bury Nora, she stays locked in her pod. Back then he thought he'd be able to catch up to the people who took Shaun. But then he just. Doesn't go back. It's too painful. He can't afford to, now while he's looking for his son.

He and Piper go out one night to the Dugout to meet up with friends, Travis, Vadim, MacCready, and various others. Vadim teases Nate that he and Piper are on a "date", which Nate denies. Piper shows up in a red sequin dress, which makes him look like a liar. And maybe he is. A few hours and a lot of drinks later, and Nate and Mac's conversation tilts into some uncomfortable territory:

“I’m convinced my wife wiretapped our house. The minute I’d get testy she would pull out some obscure quote from a previous me down to the exact day I’d said it.”

MacCready laughed deeply, tilting back in his chair clutching his stomach with mirth, “You know, Lucy - she would do that too. Couldn’t win a darned argument with the woman! Had the memory of a Deathclaw.”

Nate chuckled. But it didn't take long for a wave of sorrow to creep in from the back of his mind. His expression soured slowly. Thinking of Nora no longer made him feel sick with hopelessness. He supposed that meant he was healing. But the deep ache - the emptiness he was afraid to touch - that hadn’t gone away at all. And maybe it was the drink talking, but before giving it much thought the question slipped out, “Does it ever weigh on you?”

“What?”

Nate’s lip quirked in a consternated frown, and he felt a surge of regret for even asking.

MacCready nodded, tipping his chin. “Ah…” The mercenary took a deep swig, then answered simply, “Yeah. I miss her like hell. But at some point you gotta move on, right?"

And Nate finally reaches a point where he can think about what it would mean to let Nora rest without losing what she meant to him. And realizes he needs to face what he's been running from all this time. He leaves that night fairly abruptly, doesn't tell any of the others at the Dugout where he's going. But he doesn't go alone, either, and stops by Railroad HQ to pick up the one friend who might understand without needing it all to be said aloud. Deacon helps Nate get back to Sanctuary, back into the Vault, and later, back through Nate's old house. He stays by Nate's side while he buries Nora, and gives Nate the security he needs to let grief wash over and through him. It's a hard thing that Nate still has to work through mostly on the inside, but Deacon shadowing in the background makes all the difference in the world.

This was supposed to be home. The hedges were trimmed. His wife’s shopping list was stuck to the fridge. She would return soon, wouldn’t she? How could she possibly be gone forever, when all these echoes of her still existed? Why did accepting that feel like such a betrayal?

I thought I had more time.

The hardest part, really, was being stuck in between. His love for Nora remained immortal. But Nora was not in this place. Not anywhere he could reach. Ever again. Comfortable familiarity once taken for granted had now been taken away forever. He knew he had to let go, his questions no longer carried answers, and the suffocating, world-shattering weight of knowing was far worse than the action itself.

#fallout 4 #deacon #piper wright #nora ronan #nate ronan #text #ask #anonymous #nsftumblr #grief

10 notes · View notes

fallout4reactsblog · 3 years

Note

You know what would be super sweet? (bittersweet?) If hancock or piper got into some kinda trouble while going to try and visit sole again and sole rescues them despite the tension?

Piper kicked a pebble, watching it ping off the walls of the Red Rocket’s garage. Travel from Diamond City had taken longer than anticipated--damn those bloodbugs--and she’d gotten to Sanctuary so late that it seemed rude to barge in and demand to see sole. After all, sole hadn’t forgiven her, so this didn’t seem to be the time to start becoming a nuisance.

“Stop it,” Hancock said from the corner. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

“Aren’t you even a little bit nervous?” she huffed, but nonetheless abandoned the rock and perched on a stool.

“Of course I am. But I know that gettin’ myself worked up about it won’t help anything.”

“I know that, but it’s still nerve-wracking. I mean...” She glanced toward Sanctuary almost subconsciously. “We did kinda make enemies out of the most dangerous person in the Commonwealth.”

“You think I don’t know that? Half my town up and cleared out after Nick showed up and punched me in the face. Sole didn’t even have to say a word.”

Piper was referring to the fact that sole could kill either of them in under a minute, but she supposed Hancock’s point was apt, too. Sole had a way with people, sometimes without even knowing it.

They’d tuned the radio to Diamond City Radio almost as soon as they got in, and “The End of the World” softly played from the corner to fill the silence. Piper quietly hummed along, trying to ignore how her foot bounced with her nerves.

In the corner, Hancock said, “Stop making so much noise.”

“I’m not making any noise,” she said. “Stop being a prick about it.”

“I can hear that scrapin’ noise you’re making. Stop.”

“I’m not making any-”

She cut herself off, hearing the noise he was talking about. Like a screwdriver scraping along the side of a car. She pushed herself off the stool to poke her head through the windows of the convenience store.

A deathclaw stared back.

“Shit!” She reeled back instinctively and nearly fell before scrambling into the garage and slamming the button to close the door.

“What’s the fuss?”

“Deathclaw,” she gasped out. “Outside.”

“Here?” Hancock frowned and glanced up from under the brim of his hat. “Nah. Sole’s defenses should keep those things at bay.”

“Yeah, but there are no defenses here. Nobody lives here.”

The garage rattled to a close just as the Deathclaw figured out where the sound was coming from. The unholy screech of claws on metal echoed through the building.

“Guess that leaves this to us, huh?”

Hancock pushed himself off of his stool, and she frowned at him. “You ever try to fight one of these things by yourself?”

He glanced over at her. “Have you?”

“Never without sole. I just run.”

“First time for everything.”

She stared down at her pistol nervously. It didn’t seem like much against the monster outside, but Hancock seemed confident. Surely, he knew what he was doing.

“We’ll go out the door and sneak up on it.”

Another screech. Piper flinched instinctively and debated running for the back room and locking herself in there, but instead got to her feet. Carefully, she followed Hancock to the door, trying to stay quiet lest they draw the thing’s attention early.

Hancock counted them in, and on three they burst from the door. Piper sighted up on the thing, trying to aim for the stomach, because she thought sole had mentioned that was their weak point. Hancock had mercifully decided to take the sane way of doing things, and a shotgun blast echoed off the building. With a roar, the deathclaw turned to them, beady eyes zeroing in on their position.

It whipped a clawed hand back, and they split to dodge its strike. Piper ducked around the corner to reload, breathing hard. Were they even hurting this thing? It didn’t look like it.

Shaking her head, she turned back around, leveling her gun for another round of gut shots. Most hit the thing’s legs or arms, merely denting its natural armor, but a few found their mark, drawing blood.

With another roar, the deathclaw reared back, raising up for another strike, Hancock in its line of fire. He’d glanced away for a second to reload.

One second too long.

Effortlessly, the creature batted him to the side, slamming him against the building. He fell limp, shotgun scattering across the pavement. Piper gasped, and it turned toward her, now. Instinctively, she took a step back. Running now wouldn’t be too terrible a moral compromise, would it?

A gunshot broke the air, followed by the sound of laser musket fire. A familiar voice shouted orders, and Piper looked over just in time to see sole coming into view, Preston and Nick by their side and a charging KLEO right behind. She allowed herself a sigh of relief as sole began calling out the deathclaw’s movements, directing their friends to take it down as quickly as possible.

When the dust had cleared and the thing had given its dying roar, sole’s eyes turned towards her. For a brief moment, they made eye contact before sole sighed and turned toward Hancock, pulling a stimpack from their belt.

“Up you go,” they said, jabbing it into his thigh. By the way he winced, Piper could tell they might have been a little more aggressive than necessary.

“Thanks,” she managed to say.

They turned toward her again, face unreadable. “Don’t mention it. Seems you were in a little over your heads.”

She could only nod in agreement.

“I guess you’d better spend the rest of the night in Sanctuary. You’d have to be stupid to try to sleep somewhere undefended.”

They deserved that one, so Piper said, “Thanks,” again.

“It’ll be a tough squeeze, but we can find a bed for you somewhere, I’m sure.”

“There’s some room with me, General,” Preston said, helping Hancock to his feet. “I’ll keep an eye on them.”

Piper bit her lip, then said, “So does this mean we’re not banned from Sanctuary anymore?”

Sole’s brows furrowed slightly. “For now, at least. You might as well stay for awhile if you both came all this way. But Nick’s gonna watch you like a hawk.”

Piper glanced toward the aforementioned detective, unconsciously touching her cheek where a small scar still remained from their last meeting. He didn’t look at her, not that she blamed him. Nat had explained to her in excruciating detail all the ways she’d messed up her relationship with Nick and Ellie, something she was reminded of every time Ellie avoided her gaze in the market.

She looked away. She’d probably never repair her relationship with Nick, not really, but maybe if she made things right with sole, he’d at least speak to her.

“Follow me,” sole said. “I’ll show you where you’re staying.”

They made their way into Sanctuary. True to his word, there were a few spare sleeping bags in the house Preston was staying in, and sole lent them a few extra blankets to pad the floor a bit more.

“We’ll talk in the morning,” they said, stepping out the door. “For now, sleep. You’ll need it.”

Hancock fell asleep almost instantly, which she couldn’t blame him for. He’d been thrown into a building, after all. Unfortunately, that left her and Preston staring at each other in the dark. She wasn’t sure what to say to him, after all, she wasn’t sure how he even felt about her. For all she knew, he hated her guts.

“Some night, huh?” she said, testing the waters.

He nodded. “Some night. It’s not every day you get jumped by a deathclaw.”

They were quiet for a moment before he asked, “Did you come up here to talk to sole about anything specific.”

“No.” She shifted awkwardly. “I just, you know, wanted to see how they were doing. See how things... were between us, I guess.”

“Well, I can’t help you there. Good luck, though.”

“Thanks.” She blew a long breath. “Any word on Nick?”

He winces in a way she hopes is sympathetic. “You’ll have better luck with sole.”

“Figures. Thanks, Preston.”

“At least they came to save you. That has to count for something, right?”

She sighed. “Right. It has to count for something.”

#oh boy awkward reunions #look at this piper: consequences #who would have thought?#i know this is a lil piper-centric #but it's whatever #here's the next installment #wherein nick valentine does not trust reporters #synth!sole #fallout #fallout 4 #fo4 #fo4 companions #fallout 4 companions #piper wright #hancock #preston garvey

100 notes · View notes

pumpkinov · 3 years

Text

Where the Dust Settles

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3.

Portia Collins, the sole survivor of Vault 111 has lost more than most. With the Institute defeated, she sets her sights to the next big jobs - unification of the Commonwealth wastelands and the large warship docked at the Boston Airport. More work for the General of the Minutemen, who is finding herself increasingly alone as her companions move on with their lives. John Hancock, the Ghoul Mayor of Goodneighbour is struggling to find his footing in the new political climate of the Commonwealth, and is finding a surprisingly vocal supporter in his local Minuteman General.

Chapter 4. Don’t wait for me, it’s not a happy ending.

Portia gets something off her shoulders. Hancock plots her next political move.

Portia dropped her scarf on her couch and moved to her small fireplace, lighting a match and throwing it down on the untouched kindling. “Sorry it’s so cold in here, this won’t take long to start.”

“Ghoul, remember?” Hancock stood in the doorway, staring around him. ”How long have you had this place?”

“Since your brother was running the joint.” Portia called out, now moving to her small kitchenette and looking for glasses. “It’s not really set up for guests, sorry.”

Hancock took in the cabinet of relics on the back wall - an old baseball glove, a kid’s toy, an old picture. He picked up the framed photograph - a man in green army fatigues stared back at him, tall, tanned and handsome with tousled black hair. It was heavily stained and creased. The Husband?

“Whiskey?” Portia was now behind him, and he jumped, feeling guilty at his snooping. He hurriedly put the picture back, turned and took the proffered glass. She’d ditched the heavy coat, it was hanging on a hook in the area that curved around a corner, set up as a kitchen. It was a one room deal, like most of the places in Diamond City. There were stairs leading to an upstairs area, where he could spy a desk and the shape of a bed in the darkness. The fire had already taken the chill out of the room - she stood in a light brown button up work shirt, untucked over her too big army fatigue pants. The light from the bulbs connected by string across her ceiling sent stark shadow’s down her face, emphasising the scars that crossed across her face. Both eyebrows were split in two, along with the right side of her lip. Another scar curved across the left side of her jaw.

She smiled a little wanly, before taking a sip and wincing. “It’s rough, but it’ll do what you need it to do.” She returned to the couch, dropping her head back to rest on it’s top, clumping her snow covered boots onto her battered coffee table. Hancock lowered himself into the arm chair opposite the couch and sat back, staring around. It was clean, tidy and seemed almost sterile - apart from the few knick knacks on the back wall and that photograph, there were little to no personal items. Portia followed his gaze around and smiled ruefully. “It’s not much, I spend most of my time at the Castle or on the road these days. I really should just sell it, but…” she shrugged and trailed off, tracing her fingers around the chipped rim of her glass.

Hancock watched her for a moment, before clearing his throat and holding his glass up.

“To new connections.”

Portia smiled, and tipped her glass against his. “To new connections.” She took a sip, Hancock left his glass raised.

“To telling Diamond City to shove it.”

She snorted, almost spitting whiskey out, then smiled a little sadly at him, “You’re right, you know.”

“I know. I am about most things, but no one listens. Right about what?”

“The Anti Ghoul Decree. It’s barbaric, and was direct from the Institute. They should scrap it.”

Hancock leaned back, bringing his boots up to sit across from hers on her coffee table. He was smiling. “Then tell them that.”

“I can’t do that, Mayor. The Minutemen are not a political party. I have as much power here as I do in Goodneighbour.”

He hummed in agreement, swirling the amber liquid around in his glass. “You could run for mayor of Diamond City.”

Her eyes sparked, a dour expression crossing her face, “I’d rather have a Mirelurk remove my eyeballs, Mayor. I never even asked for the post of General.”

“What, really?”

“Really. I found Preston and a few of the survivors from the Quincy massacre in Concord, took down a deathclaw and Preston offered me the job. I was so shellshocked I just went along with it.” She wouldn’t meet his eye, staring off into space, resting her chin on her hand.

“You’re good at it.” He offered, taking a sip of his drink. She waited a moment, before looking at him and smiling.

“What, that’s it? Just a compliment, not covered in some kind of innuendo?”

“Do you want innuendo?” He raised the muscle where his eyebrow had once been. “I can provide it, if that’s what you’re digging for.”

She scoffed, draining the last of the whiskey in her glass and getting up. “You need a refill?”

Hancock glanced down at his glass, still half full. “Are you drinking to get away from something, General?”

Portia disappeared into the kitchenette around the corner, returning with the bottle she’d been given by Vadim. “I’d love to drink enough to escape the paperwork upstairs, but I don’t think enough alcohol exists in the world.” She sighed, pouring herself another glass. She sat, hefted her boots up to the coffee table again and looked at him. There was a pinkness in her cheeks, and a slight glassiness to her eyes. She clearly didn’t drink often.

“Why do you flirt with me so much?” She asked after another mouthful.

Hancock snorted, and shook his head, unable to stop the grin that spread quickly across his face. He busied himself with pulling his pack of smokes and lighter out of his inner coat pocket, so he wouldn’t accidentally burst out laughing in the General’s face. Her tone was so sincere, it was almost cute. He lit a cigarette and passed another one and his lighter to Portia. Once he trusted himself not to laugh, he looked back at her. “Mainly because I was right.”

“Right?” Portia’s question was muffled by the cigarette she was lighting.

He waited until she succeeded, watching the tip light up red as she inhaled, before replying. “I was right. The Minutemen are stuffy and irritatingly well behaved. But besides that, and the costumes, you are fun.”

Her eyes lit up as she exhaled a plume of smoke at him. “First of all, watch it, you’re dressed like an acid trip escaped from a re-enactment. Secondly, I am not fun. Not now.”

Oh. “You were more fun before?”

Portia contemplated him for a moment, cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth, before abruptly standing up. She began unbuttoning the work shirt, and Hancock chuckled. “I didn’t need a demonstration, General!”

She ignored him, managing to take a drag of her cigarette and exhale it while her hands were occupied on her buttons. She finished undoing them and shrugged it from her shoulders - Hancock first noticed the black tank top she was wearing that had a twist of scar tissue peeking from the top and bottom - it seemed to travel from sternum to belly button. Then he saw her arms. He leant forward, absentmindedly placing his glass down to get a closer look.

Portia was smiling, a little drunkenly, as she swiped the cigarette out of her mouth and turned her arms for Hancock to get a closer look.

“I’ve never seen ones that look like this,” he breathed, running a gnarled fingertip across the face of the dragon tattooed on her right arm. The alcohol did nothing to stop the little prickle of electricity that ran up her skin at his light touch, but Portia decided to ignore it. “What do they mean?”

She laughed, and reached for her glass. “The dragon means I wanted to piss my mother off, and the sea monster means that I was a sucker for a tattoo artist with pretty eyes. She picked the design.”

Hancock returned to his seat, eyes shining. “Any other surprises, General?”

Portia pulled her shirt back over her shoulders, leaving it unbuttoned as she sat back down. “I took most of my piercings out when I got married, so if you don’t count my nip -” Hancock opened his mouth and she held a hand up, “- and I definitely should not have said that, nope, one word and you’re out of my house.”

He sat back before taking a large mouthful of his drink. There was quiet for a moment, and Portia was hit with a wave of insecurity - this is why she didn’t drink, she always said too much. She stared at her thighs for a moment, before glancing back up at him. He was staring straight at her, his eyes were dark and focused. He chuckled a little, the noise ran a line of electricity up the back of her skull. “I was right then,” he said quietly, before finishing the last of his drink. “Much more fun than I thought. Who the fuck are you, sister?”

She shrugged, staring back down at her drink. “Back then? I dunno, a wild child I guess. I left home at 16, and fell in with the artsy crowd. I lived in flop houses with painters and tattoo artists and drag queens. I played bass guitar in a rock and roll band, and smoked dope and protested the war. I met Nate at a show, he was on leave from the army and we fucked around a few times. Then I got knocked up and down the aisle, married a fucking jar head. Then the bombs fell.” The energy had changed in the room, Portia stared into her glass for a long moment, before taking a deep, shuddering sigh and dragging herself back to the present. “I know the tattoo’s won’t stay for long, in the wasteland. I’ll get stabbed, or shot, or loose the whole fucking arm. But my kid is dead, my husband is dead, every thing I ever knew is dead or gone. Some days those dumb tattoos are the only thing that proves that my life before wasn’t a dream.”

There was a long silence. Portia was staring at her whiskey, her mind somewhere Hancock couldn't reach her. Everyone knew about the dead husband, the kid stolen by the Institute. It’s how she’d ended up walking through his front door in the first place, all doe eyed and in the ridiculous blue vault suit. He was honestly surprised she’d made it to Goodneighbour. She disappeared for a while; and Hancock had thought of her infrequently - mostly just to quietly mourn her. When she’d resurfaced with a militia at her disposal no one was more surprised than he - pleasantly so. He’d heard the stories - she’d gone to the Institute, returned sans kid and then blew them sky high. He wondered how well she slept at night. Judging by the brown creases under her eyes, not great. Her eyes were swimming with tears now as she stared off into space. Enough. He cleared his throat, drained his glass and put it down. “I should go, let you get to that paperwork.” She started, before smiling at him. She looked tired. He stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray, then stood. She walked him to the door.

They stood for a moment, staring at each other. Portia saw Hancock’s eyes drop down to the black top she wore, and she really wished she’d kept her mouth shut about the piercings she may or may not have spent two years telling herself to remove, and yet hadn’t done so. He opened the front door and the cold night air rushed in, causing Portia to wrap her arms around herself. “Wait, Hancock.” He turned back to face her.

“You said the main reason you flirt with me. The main one - is there more?”

He grinned, reached out and brushed his finger across her cheekbone. “Yeah, you’ve never told me to stop.”

And he was gone, the door was closing and she was left confused, a little embarrassed and a third, strange emotion she couldn’t identify.

#fallout 4 #fanfic #Hancock #Hancock/female sole #Hancock/sole survivor #Where the Dust Settles

10 notes · View notes

lewa358 · 3 years

Text

Game Retrospective: The Outer Worlds

Fallout: New Vegas was a blast. It had gripping worldbuilding, solid characters, and meaningful choices.

But like…it was also, you know, complete shit. I’m sorry, it was. It beats out the first _InFAMOUS _for being the single ugliest AAA video game I have ever played, the combat was a ridiculously clunky mess, and so damn much of the game is just dragging myself at an achingly slow pace across a wretchedly dull landscape while doing nothing but holding down W. and Cazdors have my permission to go to hell.

I believe these two contradictory elements to be true, and I can’t explain how. New Vegas was one of those games I liked experiencing more than actually playing, for want of a better word.

I bring this up because it is basically impossible to talk about The Outer Worlds without mentioning the Fallout games, and New Vegas in particular. Like New Vegas, Outer Worlds is a sci-fi first-person RPG with combat primarily—but not exclusively—relying on chipping away enemies’ health bars with guns (and sometimes melee weapons). You have a selection of companions to choose from—two at a time—and quests to complete, perks to earn, choices to make, blah blah blah.

And of course, both New Vegas and Outer Worlds are made by the same studio, Obsidian, though with nearly 10 years between the two games’ releases I’m not sure how many of the actual people in that studio were involved in both games.

So naturally, it’s inevitable that I compare the two. But I seriously wasn’t expecting Worlds to be this much better than Vegas.

The environments are bright, colorful and surreal! Combat is…mostly very easy, so it’s not intrusive! Because the game is kind of a budget title, the environments are nowhere near as expansive as those in Vegas, but that just means that there’s much less empty nothing in between locations! And even then, the terrain is just a lot more varied, with hills and valleys, and there’s this cool mid-air dash you can do that keeps you moving.

And in stark contrast to, say, Xenoblade Chronicles 2, all these improvements are very much not at the cost of what made the earlier game so engaging. Outer Worlds’, well, worlds are a blast to envelop myself in. The entire game is a shamelessly brutal satire of unregulated capitalism, with corporations acting as governments and demanding an almost religious reverence for labor and The Brand, even as the colony crumbles all around them. Each of the locations explores this in different ways, from the MSI’s flailing attempt to unionize to Edgewater’s blatant depiction of resource scarcity.

And the writing is phenomenal. I kept sending screenshots of dialogue to my sister, because there was so much that I thought was insightful or just plain hilarious. Despite how limited the character creator can be (why is long hair out of style?), every person feels distinct and every dialogue tree feels meaningful, reinforcing the game’s key themes while working excellently on their own merits.

The companions are a blast, too. There’s no romancing them in this one, so their quests are all about character growth without any uncomfortable expectations of a sultry reward—and they’re great. Tripping out with a vicar to have him confront the contradictory nature of his religion. Helping some idealistic kid come to terms with the unfortunate reality of his revolutionary ideals. Helping a mercenary lay her companions to rest. Cheating some scummy “parents” out of money they own illegitimately. That robot is cool too I guess.

But Pavarti. Pavarti! Her one dumb sidequest is so simple, but so shamelessly earnest and optimistic that I immediately fell in love with it. Just…how many games have you acting as a wingman for another character’s romantic exploits, helping a character achieve their best selves without immediately jumping into the protagonist’s pants—or for that matter, anyone’s pants? How many games have a romance subplot that checks off not just one but two letters in that LGBTQA+ acronym? How many games can even attempt half of these things without coming off as pandering or saccharine, especially in a world as snarky and cruel as Halcyon?

That’s enough coherent gushing. Here’s some extra bits I thought were neat:

No lockpicking or hacking minigames! As long as you have enough picks, and your hacking skill is high enough, you just hold down a button until the thing opens.

The game’s approach to stealth is…interesting.

On one hand, you have the whole thing where you crouch-walk around enemies until a meter over their head fills to indicate that they see you, and unlike, say, Deus Ex you can’t just stealthily pick off enemies one by one. You either sneak around or fight, and all the stealthy approach will do if you can’t or won’t completely avoid enemies is let you get the upper hand.

On the other, you have something particularly genius: if you find a particular organization’s keycard, you can disguise yourself as them when walking into restricted areas. This happens automatically, as soon as you walk past a “RESTRICTED AREA” hologram, and then a meter appears, showing how long until your disguise disappears. In a final twist of brilliance, the meter only goes down when you move, so moving around in these areas is about careful planning more than speedrunning.* The combat is fine. I was way overpowered well past the halfway point, to the point where this game’s equivalent of Deathclaws took me seconds to annihilate, often without a scratch, and my companions yelling about how my weapon was ineffective (due to its elemental affinities, but again, I was OP, so it didn’t matter). But I’ll take “dull” over “fucking cazdors” any day of the week. That, and the final area was oddly difficult considering how breezy the rest of the game was.

Look, man, I loved this game. It might even be one of my favorites ever. I truly do not care that the game as a whole feels a little cheap compared to, say the PS4 God of War, or that it lagged a little bit throughout my whole playthrough. When it came to the parts that mattered, it succeeded with aplomb.

Playthrough notes:

Played on PC via Game Pass.

Playtime: about 30 hours

Completed the game and seemingly most sidequests, including all companion quests (but not that one modeling sidequest). Sided with Phineas but used a smaller portion of the MacGuffin.

Source for images is the game’s official website, except for the skeleton guy in the hat, that was my screenshot.

#The Outer Worlds #Fallout New Vegas #New Vegas #Outer Worlds #Game Review #blog

22 notes · View notes

classysmashy · 3 years

Text

Right Behind You Baby

#2/??? of Nuclear Winter

ZoNa Holiday 2020 Entry Prompt 2 (Under the Christmas Tree / Something Red)

@zonamievents

One Piece in Fallout Universe (kinda~) [I do not own One Piece or Fallout]

AN: It’s done! Took awhile to get it together, but I’m happy with how it turned out. Since I’m behind, there will be a double update tonight with this one (pretty casual) and another one (bit of a darker mood) that are readied up, major apologies on the wait. Ideas are easy, but words are hard. I’m so happy that people liked the first one and I hope that this one also holds you’re interest, it’s so much fun to write. <3 Also, I need more of Nami and Usopp being open friend with each other in my life. I just can’t help how much I think the two would be honest with one another and gossipy. And, if it isn’t clear yet, I live for horny Nami not being able to catch a break. ;) Honestly, I can’t believe you read all of these rambles and haven’t moved to the story yet...

Rated: T for Blood, Violence, Suggestive Themes

Word Count: 5,716

*****

Nami hadn't been lying to Zoro when she said she was a busy woman. Of course, when they got back, there was Chopper fretting his little self over Nami's injuries and racing over his hooves to carry out the upmost care to her. It made her a little sad to worry him so much, but nothing could be done about it now.

By the time Chopper had properly wrapped her up and let her leave the infirmary, Luffy had whisked Zoro away and the two were gone on another job.

Which meant Nami wouldn’t see Zoro again for at least a week, knowing Luffy’s track record of getting off topic from the original reason he would set out, and that wasn’t even counting in the times the two would get lost. Great.

Yet, maybe that was a good thing for now, she thought after arriving back at her bedroom, picking up Zoro’s jacket that he seemed to have forgotten about. A soft roll of Nami’s eyes accompanied the moment she brought the fabric close to her chest, pressing her nose to it. There was a mix of the Deathclaw blood, the radiated wasteland, dirt and grass, but it was worth getting a huff of those smells just to be able inhale Zoro’s scent from the jacket.

A musky metal and sweat and booze, but it was Zoro, and her head spun as she fell back on her mattress of her bed, still clutching the jacket close.

Slipping her eyes closed, Nami let her mind drift back to the heat of his hand in her pants, mind you, it was only a second, but it was only a second she needed to lash onto for her thoughts to race of him doing more than just snapping the band of her panties.

The jacket laid nicely over her eyes, covering it entirely and the scent intoxicating, taking both hands and tracing her fingers down ever so slowly along the side of her breasts, ghosting over the fresh bandages on her stomach, and arriving at the front of her jeans.

Zoro, Zoro, Zoro. Nami could only think of him, his rough hands on her body, hot lips working her...

She popped open the button and pulled the zipper down. If it was Zoro, he would have taken the damn metal between his teeth and yanked it away, his one good eye burning her alive. And that was only if he hadn’t cut them to bits yet in frustration of wanting her.

Nami’s body came alight, her hands were so close to the promised area, just as close as Zoro’s body had been so many times in the past couple days, oh how she wished that Chopper hadn’t interrupted them yesterday...

Knock! Knock! Knock!

“Oiii, Nami! You’re back, right?! Chopper said you were!” A frustrated whimper was drowned out by the fabric of the jacket.

Usopp. Of all people that had to come by now, it was Usopp. There was no way he would leave her alone, even if she had fallen asleep already.

Fixing her jeans back and folding the jacket to place on the right side table by the bed, Nami came to her feet to let the fool in.

“You do realize what time it is, right, Usopp?” she had questioned as soon as their eyes met around the hunk of junk, his nose pressing into her cheek with how much he invaded her space right away.

“Yeah, but goodness Nami, those ugly monsters really did get you good! I thought Chopper had to be lying!” Usopp pulled back, pushing one hand under his chin and the other at his hip. “It’s too bad I wasn’t there, I would have taken those Deathclaws out in a millisecond, after all, the Great Usopp here had killed a whole horde of a hundred Deathclaws on his own just at the age of nine!”

Her eye twitched and it took all the strength in the world to not out right punch the idiot to stop him in the middle of one of his over the top lies.

“Right, right, the Great Usopp would have killed them in a flash and not have been forced to play Mommy,” Nami teased, watching the way Usopp scrunched up his nose and blanched at what she had been insinuating.

“There’s no way that I could help them breed, I don’t have those types of organs in me!” his voice hit a shrilly octave, hands flapping around at the insanity. “That’s only something Robin would say, did they put the wrong memories into your synth?”

That really got to her and Nami’s fist connected with the top of Usopp’s head, sending him down to the floor with a cry of panic and pain, clutching the bumps forming. “Don’t say something that only the idiots from that city would say! I’m tired of hearing what does and doesn’t make someone a synth!”

“I’m so sorry!” Usopp cried, running behind Nami and taking shelter at her bed. “Though, I guess you won’t be too happy with what I came here about if it means having to go to the big city.”

Stretching out a frown, Nami closed the door finally and took a seat next to him on the mattress, wrapping her plaid blanket across her shoulders. “Sabaody? Why do I need to go to Sabaody?” She winced at the tiny twinge within the muscles of her leg alerting her to the care it needed that only could be gotten from a well rested night.

Her thin fingers kneaded the skin while Usopp leaned back on his arms, “Well, you’re the one that always says our trades should be worth their while and a caravan is leaving tomorrow to trade our water surplus for bottlecaps. Plus, Franky is wanting some more shipments for materials that go into decorations.” He brought his left hand to Nami’s leg as well, helping to massage the pain away. Usopp was always a sweet friend to have around, even if he could get annoying with his tall tales.

Nami rung her head side to side, trying to uncoil some of the pressure. “Mmm, that’s true and I guess it wouldn’t hurt to catch up on any stories that have been floating around that we should be privy to.” Usopp took over the massage completely with both of his hands, letting her lay on her back to toss the leg into his lap.

“Oh? Like how there’s rumors of you and Zoro being weird in the hall outside of your mikan trees yesterday?” his voice was teasing and he made a snicker like he had the full scoop of what went down and more. Nami’s hand coming forward to swat his arm, but her eyes didn’t hold any actually discomfort from the question.

“If you mean weird in Zoro planning to rail me out of the blue in a semi-public hallway, then you would be correct,” she dug her teeth into her bottom lip, not even trying to hide the grin she had. Nami’s loud giggling echoed around the room at the way Usopp’s eyes went wide like dinner plates and stuttered over his thoughts of the image.

Usopp gave up on the massage to flop in a laying position beside, curling his arm under his head and gathering together his racing mind. When Nami turned more to him and the two looked like a pair of teenage girls from those old magazine pictures, he seemed to finally decide on what he wanted to say.

“I want to know, but I don’t want to know. But, I do want to know why you didn’t let him after all this hopeless pinning you come to rant my ear off about after your thirty-fifth bottle of wine,” garnering a laugh from both of them.

That was true, she’d spent so much time turning to Usopp as the only person she could properly talk about the feelings that had been creeping through her about Zoro and he listened well, helping her calm down at the times she would be so freaked out inside about how it could be possible to like, let alone be falling in love, with the meathead. It couldn’t be helped that she trusted him the most as her best friend and the only normal person in a relationship —Nami didn’t feel comfortable in giving away the information to Robin or Franky, as they would definitely tell one another and force her into situations with Zoro like sneaky rats.

Curling the blanket tightly around her body in one swift movement, Nami let out a long sigh. “Well, Chopper came around and Zoro started off being weird by pointing out how I had been avoiding him and saying to never do it again and just deciding all of a sudden to make a move. He said it was because of Brook, but I'm still confused from how strong he came on to me,” she drummed her fingers on the mattress and Usopp gave his own sigh in reply.

“Well, it can't be helped that the two of you would have an awkward phase, right? You're switching from being friends that always berate each other to possible lovers. Trust me, it’ll be a weird and awkward switch for everyone if the two of you do make that decision to cross those thresholds.”

Usopp had grown an understanding about dynamic’s between lovers that could only be achieved by being in a relationship —as he liked to say himself. And while Nami was sure that officially being with Kaya had changed some things for Usopp, there was nothing that could make up for how different the dynamic he understood with Kaya that varied from the dynamic between herself and Zoro.

But it was still sweet of him to try and downplay her worries so she wouldn’t be overwhelmed too much.

“Thank you,” Nami whispered, her body slowly relaxing to lay flat on her back, head lolling to the side as she began to doze off.

A hint of a chuckle left Usopp and she felt the bed dip when he stood up. “Don’t worry about it!” Lights caught the corner of his eye and he turned his attention to a small metal table pushed into the farthest right corner of the room with a Christmas tree resting upon it. “Ohhh, that’s pretty, feeling a bit festive, huh? Well, that’s exactly why Franky is wanting more supplies, so he’ll be able to spruce up the place for people to have a bit of holiday cheer around here. I mean, it’s not like we haven’t celebrated all together before, but so many people in this world haven’t thought about holidays their entire lives and him and Luffy decided it would be a great morale boost for all the new folk around.”

The Christmas tree was a tiny tabletop one stuck to a mat as the bottom and a piece of metal going straight through the middle to be the stand. The tree itself was a dark pine, dazzling with mini ceramic string lights wrapped into the shape of the branches, leading to a prefect star at the top of the tree, shining a golden hue along the table. On the mat beneath the Christmas tree, there was about twenty to thirty mini presents varying in sizes and colors, though all of them sparkled like glitter and had a beautiful red bow to adorn the top.

She was sure of the beauty a life-sized Christmas tree would be, but it was hard to come by any of these tabletop ones that had survived the wasteland and Nami worried that it would be even worse for Franky to try and recreate such things for their home. But, then again, she really shouldn’t doubt Franky’s skills and knack to make anything that he set his mind on, he was a Strawhat after all, and it only seemed proper he would have a fortitude to carry out the very reason he had joined up.

“You should leave and get some rest, Usopp, and let me rest too if I’m going to be protecting the caravan, huh?” Nami stretched out a lethargic smile to the long-nose and he gave a wide grin back. “Hey, are you done messing around with my Clima Baton yet?”

Usopp scratched at the back of his head with a choky laugh, “Almost, uh, shouldn’t be much longer, but I assure it will be worth the wait!”

If she wasn’t so sleepy, Nami would have gave him a solid beating for the answer, but instead gritted her teeth together. “Won’t you just go ahead and tell me what it is you’re doing exactly with my precious weapon?”

“Definitely not! It’s a surprise!” Usopp shouted and straightened his spin up before zooming off to the bedroom door, peaking his head around the wood one last time to wish her goodnight then sprinting away down the hall.

Mumbling to herself about how it was taking forever for him to do whatever it was with her weapon, Nami quickly faded into a dreamless sleep, much needed for the coming week.

*****

A trip ranging from the Strawhats personal settlement to the outskirts of the grand city of Sabaody Archipelago would take a full week, give or take the time that she and the others walked and whether the brahmin wanted to keep a fast pace or not.

Before even leaving the compound, Nami had decided she would send one person back on their own before the rest after arriving in Sabaody as to get the supplies Franky wanted to him faster. That would mean five people in total would start on the job, but only four would travel back together with the brahmin.

Sure, she and the four other somewhat new settlers to the settlement could just carry plenty of the water cans to Sabaody to save time on the trip, but that would mean sacrificing money that could be made from loading up the Brahmin with many cases and sacks filled to the brim.

Nami would never sacrifice money that could be used to improve their lives, so there was no way she would choose a different option.

The trip to Sabaody would be complicated, she had explained to the settlers once everyone geared up and left the gates of safety. There wouldn’t be a good, straight shot to the city and the only available pathway would put them in broad visibility, meaning the risk of being attacked by raiders, gunners, rogue robots or synths, super mutants, ghouls, Deathclaws, mole rats, radroaches, and the likes were higher than the normal run of the mill luck to ending up in bad fights.

Well, to put it mildly, an hour into traversing and she had finished off her small speech of what they would go through, the settlers decided that next time they would avoid a Sabaody caravan trip.

But, really, what could go wrong? Nami tried to play it down, just as Usopp managed to help her the night before. It wasn’t easy to take the edgy off of them though and rather than help, she soured the mood even more.

Nothing was wrong with a quiet trip, it gave a better chance to listen out for impending doom.

*****

Not much had happened on their first day out, nor the second day either, the tarnished blacktop of highways seeming to never end and the polluted waters they passed by glowing up a storm that made Nami’s skin crawl.

The downside of winter meant the night sky would shine above sooner in the day and the sudden darkness only played more into the isolating, eerie air the wasteland had when the tragedies could no longer be seen. It wasn’t the same as the high roller city in the desert where they had spent time with Vivi, oh how the night never came there because of the lights that was forever aglow, compared to the wasteland that had been swiped of all such things and left a shell.

Sometimes she wondered about Vivi, if the princess would ever collide paths with them again and have fun times together as well. Thinking back on the girl though brought a memory to the forefront of her mind she had seemed to discarded.

Vivi had tossed around in the other bed of the girl’s cabin for hours on end before asking if Nami had been awake. Once she had realized that, yes, Nami had never went to sleep, she let loose what had been plaguing her mind.

“There was just something so interesting in how Mr. Bushido looked at you today!”

The statement had caught Nami off-guard, as nothing of particular note had gone on during that day and was only spent drifting along and waiting for the time of finally reaching Alabasta. Nami had tried to get her to explain more, but Vivi was too caught on the fact that it had to of been a loving stare that he gave the orange-haired navigator and was happy to get it off her chest.

It had been such an odd thing at the time, but also not so odd. She played it off with Vivi that her eyes must have been wrong in what she saw, that Zoro was probably looking at her in scorn and hoping that she would burn up on the spot and making the debt he owned Nami to also vanish.

Yet now, looking back on that moment, there seemed that some of what she thought was wrong could have been real. That Vivi had seen him with a wanting stare at her so long ago and well before she had gotten to this moment.

Tilting her eyes to the sky, the sun inking out from the clouds marked the third day of the caravan’s walk and that she had also spent the entire night awake thinking of just how long ago Zoro’s view shifted of her.

*****

The afternoon creeped on quickly, Nami’s leg had started swelling only an hour into the restart of their walk, but she had toughened it out so far with the thought of how the sooner the whole thing was over, the sooner she would get some good rest and not be on the leg doing strenuous activity.

A simple snowfall had started only a mere few minutes ago, the sky painted a soft white that went for miles and the snow falling to a melt instantly. It was a pretty picture, one that made up for the surroundings outside of the bubble of paradise that could exist in such moments.

And it was that distraction, her eyes so focused onto the sky, she had missed the warning sight of gunners facing off against a legion of super mutants, cutting off the rest of the highway with their battle, and the five of them walking right in-between the onslaught.

Zoro would have chewed her ear out with a grin of how she was worse than him, waltzing into a fight that could have taken care of itself. Damn idiot creeping into Nami’s mind, he would have easily put down both sides without so much as a yawn.

In a flash, one of the settlers grabbed for the brahmin and led it to hide out behind an overturned semi-truck they had just passed up, leaving her and the other three to duck behind a concrete traffic barrier. Making sure it was full on ammo, Nami gripped the laser pistol she’d been using with both hands, peering her head a hair of an inch beyond the barrier to mark her aim for a super mutant.

No person in their right mind would rather take on super mutants alone, and aiding the gunners for a moment before they would turn their fire onto Nami would be fine if it meant the worse threat of the two was dealt with.

The green giants, a darker shade of green than Zoro’s hair, towered with miniguns that seemed to never cease an end of a rain of bullets, and the group of six all were packing one. Except for the suicider strapped up with mini nukes making a run towards a gunner squatting behind a metal bin, only a couple seconds of beeping indicating the explosion that blew the body of the super mutant into flying chunks.

Sometimes, the amount of suffering that the super mutants had been through made them so dumb they didn’t even understand how they were causing their own death, along with ally super mutants. Which, is what the suicider did, as the gunner’s head and limbs promptly tore from the rest of the flesh and bone and muscles of his torso, blood sprouting out everywhere.

Two of the super mutants, with their miniguns in hand, were shaken by the blast, sending them backwards firing upon each other rapidly during the stupor, killing one another with multiple shots to the head.

That left them with four super mutants and seven gunners.

How fun it was to wait it out and see the wild shenanigan's the wasteland offered on its own before a somewhat sane person intervened, Luffy would’ve gotten a good kick out of seeing something like that, Nami would definitely have to pass the story to him about the scene.

Just as she was releasing off some rounds towards the hands of the closest super mutant —hoping to cause enough damage to make him drop the minigun— one of the settlers yanked open their pack to reveal an array of grenades, catapulting nearly ten cryogenic grenades and diving back down to hide out of view again. Each one landed and exploded right by the super mutants, delivering a shock of pain through each one over and over again, freezing their bodies in place for a handful of seconds between each blast.

There were better ways the grenades could have been put to use, a plan worked out, but that didn’t matter now as one of the gunners suddenly tossed out his own grenade, which was a plasma one that knocked the four super mutants to the ground as soon as the green wave burst out and hit them. It was only about two seconds that they were down, but the force of the hit made them lose hold of their miniguns and made easy picking to drive bullets into their heads.

With the gunners sending all their firepower in and Nami aiming nicely timed shots into eyes that Usopp would be proud of, the super mutants were dead in a matter of minutes and once the last body had dropped, the gunners turned their attention towards Nami and the three settlers with her.

Bullets ricocheted and got caught into the concrete as the gunners began running down to surround them, her and the other settlers shifted around to get in some shots from the side rather than raising their heads to easy hits. The first one to run up on them had looked dead into Nami’s eyes, cocking the shotgun in her hands and placing the barrel at the space between Nami’s eyes.

Unloading the whole clip of thirty shots into the female gunners own face, Nami drew back and clutched her chest, trying to even out the ragged breathes that came from being so close to a bullet in the head.

One settler to her right was using a semi-upgraded 10mm pistol, burying bullets into a gunners shoulder and creating a splatter of blood as the arm endured too much of the burning metal and tore itself away, flying into the face of the gunner beside him upon death.

Five more.

Even though gunners were extremely skilled in the area of guns, they also seemed to go down pretty easily just as a normal raider would because of being a normal human, and that was what helped Nami regained her strength to finish the fight off.

The settler that went with the brahmin peaked himself out, guiding down the scope of a pipe rifle to split open a hole through the left ear and ripping out of the right ear of one of the gunners.

Four more.

Nami took the moment to reload the laser pistol and left the position of hiding out behind the barrier to run up on the last of the gunners perched on the hood of a rusted and busted pickup truck. She easily shot through the one who jumped off and rushed at her, sending the gunner to the ground in a final scream filled with agony at the hole left in his gut. The female gunner who had been behind him on the hood shot at Nami’s feet, but she ignored the hail, raising up to focus in a shot and the blast from the laser melting the gunner into a puddle of ash.

Past her head, a storm of bullets impaled the final two gunners, one bashing into the open cab and dying out in a folded position while the other tried to rush Nami with the last of her strength.

The gunner knocked into Nami’s body like a ram, hands clawing out at the fabric of Zoro’s jacket she wore and slamming her head into the edge of the highway railing. Just below had to be a fifty foot drop into a heavy stream of a river, and if Nami didn’t die on impact, then she would have died by the rush of the water beating into her body. In an act to prevent herself from being thrown over, Nami brought her right foot into the gunner’s ankle, causing the gunner to stumble and release the hold over Nami.

Bringing her knee between the legs of the gunner, Nami used the moment of confusion to push her over the side of railing, leaning in to watch the pulls sweep the body into a thrashing current and the screams came to a silent halt.

No more.

All of them were huffing in puffs of air, trying to regain a footing after the battle. This was a normal day in the wasteland, how could she have forgotten about things like this?

Too much time spent behind walls and tending to those needs was clearly taking a toll on what Nami could do away from the building societies. If it kept up, would she really be able to call herself a survivor anymore? How many times was she going to put herself close to death in simple situations?

Something needed to change.

*****

The rest of the week was still filled with fighting for their lives, though not to any troubling extent that super mutants posed, but it seemed a multitude of raiders had decided to bug out along the highways for the winter, bracing themselves for any heavy storms that may come. Not a single snowstorm had hit during the travel, which had to be an upside since there didn’t have to be any stops or struggling to make it away through piles of snow.

When the unnerving border of the Sabaody Archipelago came into view, its trees extending among the clouds, there was a choir of cheers from the settlers she set out with and the brahmin waddling forward to lead the way to safety this time. It was the dead of night though and Nami was sure that there wouldn’t be any merchants available until the morning, so she paid for hotel rooms for the settlers, got the brahmin set up somewhere safe, the water put away with one of the settlers, and took off to a familiar bar.

All the feelings that had been swarming her lately and after the many gun fights, Nami needed a nice drink.

She strolled along a worn out path of stones, zoning out to the cracks between each one. A set of shadows from the overarching trees were casting spookily over the sleeping city, but that was until a swarm of lights broke out over Nami.

“Woah,” her breathe had been taken away from her body as soon as her eyes laid on the sight sitting in front of her.

It seemed that her worries were wrong.

Standing at least seventy-five feet, was a beautiful spruce tree that was still brimming in life, the branches sprouting out in silverish green. Wrapped around the Christmas tree was thousands of string lights, all glinting off each other and sharing the light to the ground below and surroundings. In different shapes and sizes were cute ornaments, round bold colored ones, spiky ones with glitter, plaided cones, and even handmade ones that were probably put up by citizens. At the very top was a shining star, swaying in the wind and sending a spark of its golden light in different directions with each movement.

Beautiful, so beautiful.

Seeing the real deal of a Christmas tree like this up close and personal didn’t compare to the idea she had in mind by the little light up tabletop Christmas tree she had in her room back home.

Nami was certain now that she definitely wanted Franky to decorate the compound for Christmas or she wouldn’t be able to live there without seeing a beauty like this when she woke up in her bed during the winter mornings.

Across the way from the Christmas tree was a rundown bar where Nami was planning to stop in, the words had gotten more faded since the last time she had been around, but there was no way that someone in the area didn’t know who’s bar it was.

A soft chime above her head alerted the few in the bar of Nami’s entry. Standing behind the counter was a tall woman with a dark bob of hair, cigarette perched between her lips as she read a newspaper. The woman’s eyes glossed above the paper with a smirk at Nami, folding it away and blowing out a cloud of smoke.

“Impeccable timing as ever, Nami,” the woman curled her lips as Nami settled at the bar, pointing at a bottle of whiskey on the top shelf. She needed a hard drink that was worth the money and knew that Shakky would deliver on that here.

Watching the drink splash around in the glass, Nami twirled a strand of hair, “Why do you say that? Did something happen that I wished I had been here to learn about?”

Knocking back the glass in one gulp, it slammed to the table with a hard raddle, Shakky filling it again as she talked, “No, instead you narrowly missed that Monkey-chan and the grump.” Nami paused midway to carrying the glass for another fast gulp.

“Luffy and Zoro were here? When?” To think she had been so close again to being able to talk, but missed him, her luck seemed to be running up lately.

“They only left a few hours ago, not sure of where they're headed, but they did seem to know you were going to be here,” Shakky smiled slyly, looking too much like Robin when she really wanted to tease someone, and Nami felt her stomach do an uneasy flop. “The grump left this for you.” In a fluid motion, she had pulled out a flat plain white envelope and slid it to the younger girl’s grasp.

Nami stared at it, burning holes through it with her eyes and questions zooming around in her head of what exactly was inside of it.

“He also said it would be best to read outside,” Shakky finally laughed this time, shaking her head at the antics the man pulled and made her carry out for him.

“Shakky,” Nami swallowed down the second glass of whiskey and laid out some bottlecaps on the counter, scooting out of the squeaky metal, “I’ll come back tomorrow to talk more. Have a good night.” She didn’t even wait to hear a response from the older woman or notice Rayleigh coming from the back to greet her, just picked the envelope and took back off into the night.

Once right outside of the bar, she dug into the envelope with shaky hands, the cold night eating her up. Within it had been one slip of a thick card that Zoro wrote a note for her on.

“Nami, the real tree is better than that one in your room, right? Search beneath the tree outside of Shakky’s and you might find something you’ll enjoy. —Zoro”

The thought of Zoro hiding a gift for her made a heat bloom through her chest, the tingly feeling in her spine reappearing. She instantly rushed over to the tree, keeping her brown eyes peeled for any sort of box or bag that Zoro had left behind.

About halfway around the tree, a small box wrapped in red with a light green ribbon finally caught her eye and she settled on her knees to tear open the box beneath the tree. Once the paper was away and the cardboard box rested on her hand, she gently pulled the lid away to reveal a bracelet.

The bracelet was a simple band of polished gold with three different charms hanging off of it. The first charm was meant to represent her, she’d assumed by the plate having a 2Dcarved compass on it. Next was a charm to represent Zoro, three swords carved into the gold plate. And the final charm was a gold plate that had a mikan carved into it and there was the three swords being stabbed through the fruit, showing how the two were connected.

Grinning, Nami put the bracelet on, being extra careful of harming it when she slid it on. She turned her wrist back and forth, seeing how it looked so good and perfect on her.

She was alone beneath the tree. To anyone else, it would be a sad sight to see a gorgeous woman all alone beneath a Christmas tree when she received a gift, but that didn’t matter to Nami at all.

Her eyes guided up the tree again and brought the jacket she wore to her nose.

Zoro’s scent was nearly gone by now.

Because even though she was alone under the tree, Zoro was still with her by a small way that he made the decision on.

#zonaholiday2020 #fanfic #one piece #zona #zonami #zoronami #zoro x nami #ronoroa zoro #op nami #op zoro #op usopp

35 notes · View notes

danses-with-dogmeat · 3 years

Note

a romanced hancock reacting to sole wanting him to be a father figure in synth shaun's life?

Thank you so much for the ask anon!

So, I couldn't decide if I wanted to do more of a drabble or headcanons, so I just did both! I thought this prompt was really sweet, I hope you enjoy!

You stood in your shared room at the top of the Old State House, before the man in the red coat, the man you loved, awaiting his answer to your proposal. Having just asked him the question that had been patiently waiting at the back of your mind since the day that Shaun had come back into your life.

"Oh sunshine..." Hancock's gravelly voice broke the silence that had followed your question, "I'm beyond flattered that'd you'd ask that. I mean, I love that kid to pieces, but... you really think a ghoulified, blood-soaked, mega-junkie like me is the best fit for the kid to look up to?" The ghoul gave a soft chuckle, but Sole could see his brow furrowed slightly with uncertainty. A rare sight, given his usual gusto.

"Hancock," you said, in an attempt to reassure him, "you're a hell of a lot more than that. And Shaun is crazy about you, the reason I brought this up now was because he asked me when he could start calling you 'dad'." Hancock's dark eyes widened at your words and it took him a moment to answer.

"He- he did? Man... It's not too often I find myself at a loss for words but, I mean, me, a dad? I never thought that would've been possible, given my eh... present condition," He brought his hands up to gesture at his whole body. Your eyes never left his, the only change in your expression being a small smile, encouraging him to respond to your earlier question. Hancock sighed, taking a few steps towards you.

"So I suppose the thing I'm trying to say here is, I'm not sure I'm qualified for the position you're offering me." Your shoulders slumped at his words, you couldn't help but think he'd have been more receptive to the idea of being Shaun's new father. He may not be perfect, but he's one hell of an upgrade from the synth child's last "father."

"Look sunshine," Hancock decided to break the silence again, noticing your disappointed expression, "you sure you want this? I don't really tend to think of myself as 'daddy material'." You cocked an eyebrow at him, despite the weight of the conversation, you found yourself unable to keep a suggestive smile from spreading across your lips at his choice of words.

"Hey now, aren't you supposed to be the responsible one in this outfit?" Hancock quipped, his crooked smile imitating your own as he took another step closer. Before he could reach for you, you brought your hands up and grabbed ahold of his shoulders, trying to regain control of the conversation.

"Look, John, I know you don't always see it this way," you looked him in the eye, willing your next words to sink in, "but you really are an outstanding role model. I mean, look at all you've done for the people of Goodneighbor, and the Commonwealth. You're out there actively trying to make this wasteland a better place, lending a hand to the little guy and doing all you can to take down the tyrants. You're a skilled leader who genuinely cares about the people you're responsible for, you're fiercely protective of the ones you love, and of the ideals that you support. You're a good man, John. And I couldn't think of anyone better for Shaun to call 'dad'."

"Shit sweetheart, you really know how to make a ghoul blush. Tell me, how did I ever get so lucky to have you in my life?" He whispered softly, shaking his head slightly as he looked deep into your eyes. You couldn't help but blush at his comment and at his unrelenting smoky gaze, you looked down to break the tension for a moment.

"We're talking about you here, John, remember? So..." you trailed off, hoping to finally get a straight answer from him.

"So?" He asked.

"So, what do you say? You gonna make me ask you again, or what?"

"Look," he reached a ruined hand out to lightly take your own, his thumb rubbing soothingly over your knuckles, "you and that kid are the most important thing I've got going on in my life, and if you really want me around, then I'm not goin' anywhere. And for the first time in my life, I fucking mean it." He grasped your hand tightly, before you gently removed it from his own, instead bringing your arms up to pull him into a tight embrace, which Hancock happily leaned into, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck.

"Just one thing..." you said, finally pulling away, "we might have to work on that foul mouth of yours."

"Don't worry sweetheart, if we're doing this thing, we're gonna do it right. I'll teach the kid all he needs to know. The real creative foul language, how to cure a hangover, where to get the best chems. All that important shit." You rolled your eyes playfully, mirth shining behind your dilated pupils as you stared into the eyes of your son's new father.

"Now, about that foul mouth of mine..." his hand slunk around your waist and pulled you into him as a mischievous grin spread across his lips a moment before they met yours.

And now, a few headcanons, for your consideration:

- After agreeing to act as Shaun's father, Hancock would seriously clean up his act. He may occasionally still take chems and drink (cuz, let's face it, he's still Hancock, and quitting cold turkey is hardly an option) but much less than he used to, and never around Shaun. This is only partly because he doesn't want to bring Shaun into that part of his life, but also it has a lot to do with his decreasing dependency on self-medicating. Being genuinely happy with his family, he doesn't feel as though he needs to escape.

- He would continue to be mayor of Goodneighbor, but would leave many of the day-to-day decisions to a committee (composed of Daisy, Fahrenheit, Dr. Amari, and an elected security guard). While Hancock, Sole and Shaun would live at another (more kid-friendly) settlement of Sole's choice.

- Hancock would actually excel at teaching Shaun. Whether it would be a shooting lesson, showing Shaun how to cook, teaching him to fish, or telling him about pre-war history (usually with a good amount of focus on the American revolution given his own fascination with it), even if Hancock wasn't extraordinarily knowledgeable, he would do his absolute best at helping Shaun get some form of an education.

- Once Sole was able to convince Hancock that Shaun liked his voice, rough as it may be, he would love to do bedtime stories. Even though Shaun is probably just getting old enough to outgrow them, he has a particularly hard time getting to sleep, and he soon finds that the ghoul's low, calm voice is a surefire way to drift off when the sun goes down.

- Hancock would be one of those parents that always looks like they know what they're doing, he would be patient during Shaun's tantrums, would be very focused on communication, and would have a nice blend of being protective of Shaun, but not to the point that it would be stifling. That being said, he would remain awfully uncertain and need constant reassurance from Sole, seeking their advice on almost everything to do with Shaun. Inside, he would have trouble realizing he's as good of a father figure to Shaun as everyone says he is. However, outwardly, he would be as confident as ever. Even fooling Nick into believing that he was completely at ease in the role of being Shaun's dad.

- He'd be killer at all of the popular kid games, playing hide and seek with Shaun when they visited the Old State House, or playing tag back in sanctuary, or even imagination games where he had to be the deathclaw and Shaun got to be Grognak the barbarian (do deathclaws exist in the Grognak universe? It doesn't matter, they do to Shaun). Hancock normally wouldn't let anyone win, he believes in playing fair, but occasionally for Shaun, he'd hide in the obvious places, or trip when running away in tag, or let it slide that Shaun says Grognak is strong enough to punch a deathclaw's head clean off in one hit. (Man, if only he could do that.)

- If other kids were bullying Shaun, Hancock would be the type of parent to bring the bully aside and have a frighteningly quiet conversation. And by conversation, I mean an in-depth description of what Hancock will do to the kid if he's mean to Shaun again. (Think of that scene at the beginning of the first Jurassic Park movie where the main character is describing to a kid how a velociraptor guts its prey and eats it alive. That's Hancock. Both the man, and probably the velociraptor too if the bully doesn't heed his warning.) Hancock wouldn't necessarily kill the kid for being mean to Shaun, but it's because he wouldn't have to, after his 'discussion' with the kid, he'll never even look at Shaun the wrong way again. Thankfully, the 'discussion' is all Hancock's ever had to do when kiddos are involved.

#fallout 4 companions #fallout 4 #hancock #sole survivor #fallout hancock #fo4 #fallout #fallout 4 headcanons #john hancock #fallout companions react

109 notes · View notes