#Hancock/sole survivor

[ghoulshouting]

Unbreaking update

Hi friends! Did I lie? Here's my longest chapter of my fic yet! Within lies some arguments, some spice, and some romance.

Chapter 24: Party Down In Goodneighbor, Hancock faces the toll that his time with Romanov has taken on his people, his health, and that feeling inside him every time he looks at her that is becoming more and more impossible to set aside. Romanov brings a reporter and a detective into the fold. Read the update. Read from the start.

[capriswritingnartshenanigans]

Weathering a Storm

Pairing: Nora/Hancock

Warning for language, Pre-relationship

Catch it on AO3

Prompt: a sudden storm kicks up. Nora had not given much thought to just how severe the changes to the weather could be after the war. She was, unfortunately, going to find out from first-hand experience, much to the chagrin of her faithful companions, John Hancock and Dogmeat.

When you had escaped your frozen prison back in late October, you hadn’t really given thought to how the nuclear apocalypse may have affected the weather during the seasons. Hell, you hadn’t given thought to how nuclear radiation could’ve changed anything at that point.

You probably should have. Preferably before the middle of December, as the idea of combating radioactive snow and the freezing temperatures was now not just a damned idea, you are very much living it. Even with your wool-lined boots and the thick jacket you picked up in Diamond City, the bitterly cold wind whipping against you has long since pierced your protective clothing.

And, based on the constant stream of curses coming not too far behind you, your ghoulish companion is suffering similarly. Even Dogmeat is struggling, his usually high and wagging tail only a mere inch from dragging the ground.

Maybe it’s time to find some shelter…

Just as the thought struck your mind, the wind begins to pick up, and a new contender joins the falling snow: sleet. The horrid mix of ice and rain comes in sudden sheets, quickly drenching you and no doubt your companions, too. Your fingers are already numb as you fumble with your Pip-Boy, desperate to find something close enough to run to…

There!

“This way!” You half-scream over the roaring wind and rain, darting blindly to the right. Your Pip-Boy showed what seemed to be a house (or previously a house) in that general direction, and at this point, you have nothing to lose.

Well. Except your life from hypothermia. Or a fatal tumble to a broken neck. Slipping and landing on something sharp in a not great location.

Those thoughts put a further pep in your step, and thankfully, you can see Dogmeat running beside you as well as Hancock in your peripheral vision. You blindly grope forward as you run, and while it takes what feels like an eternity to find something solid amidst the pouring rain and ushered darkness-

OOF!

The air is knocked from your lungs as you practically clothesline yourself across the railing to the stairs.

“Found it,” you wheeze out, stumbling up the stairs. The door doesn’t budge when you try it, and you let out an exasperated cry as you jerk at it again.

“Move, sister!” Hancock budges you to the side, and delivers a hard kick to the door. The rotting wooden frame gives way under the force, leaving the door to swing open. He pushes against your back to get you inside, Dogmeat eager to follow.

You barely manage to turn the light on your Pip-Boy with your frozen fingers, but once the bright blue light shines through the darkness, you make for a nearby cabinet to push against the door. The door that Hancock has his back pressed against, the only thing standing between the mostly dry inside and the icy storm raging outside. With a few shoves, you have the cabinet wedged well enough that he can make a move to help force it the rest of the way against the door, propping it up on the stairs.

Your teeth chatter so hard, you’re impressed you don’t bite off your tongue when you speak. “W-we sh-sh-should go upstairs-s-s. Warm air r-rises.”

Hancock, breathing hard, nods and pulls out his knife, then waves for you to head up first. “You got the flashlight, might be better for you to head up first, hm?”

“Y-Yeah.” You draw your pistol, though you doubt your aim would be well enough to use it at the moment with how hard you shiver, and head up the stairs first. They are made of concrete versus standard wood, much to your relief; less likely to step on a rotten stair and go tumbling backwards. Dogmeat pushes in front of you, loudly sniffing, followed quickly by even louder sneezes.

A few minutes of checking the two rooms upstairs, and the three of you settle in the room closest to the front door and with the fewest windows. While you peel off your sodden outer clothes, Hancock pushes the armoire in front of the sole window, trying to block the draft and any potential shards of glass, should it not hold up against the storm. Your coat and the pants you had on over your vault suit hit the floor with a nasty shlunk and shlop noise, followed by your boots and soaked socks. Not too far behind, Hancock starts stripping his centuries-old duds off, with similar unpleasant noises.

Still shivering, you get your flip lighter out and light the oil lamps you’d found in one of the hallway closets, then proceed to set up candles around the room. Still, the heat from those were so little, and even your vault suit was uncomfortably damp...

You look at Hancock, who’s back is to you as he rummages in the armoire, looking through the clothes inside. You barely manage to catch the sweater and pants he tosses at you.

“I can still hear your teeth chatterin’ away over the rain, Nora. Get out of that damned suit before you catch your death.”

“What about you?”

He laughs hoarsely as he pulls out a dusty white shirt and slacks. “Covered.”

You stare at him for a moment longer… and you can feel heat start to warm your cheeks, down to your neck. “Do you… mind turning around?”

“’Course not. You just had to ask.” He gives you a wink before turning his back to you, his pure cotton undershirt showing off just how lithe his figure is under that big, red coat. “Gonna ask the same of you, though.”

It takes a second for his words to process, but you chuckle once they do, turning your back to him as well. “I think that’s fair enough.”

Your icy fingers struggle with the zipper for a moment, but you do eventually manage to get the suit unzipped to your waist. Now the fun part: trying to get out of this damned thing when it’s practically suctioned to your skin. You nearly pull your shoulder out of socket just getting it off of your arms and down to your waist, but curses start to stream from your lips as you fight to get it off of your hips and legs.

“You need some help over there?” Hancock teases, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice.

“I am fine, mind your business, sir,” you huff angrily, nearly ripping the damned suit before almost going headfirst into the bed in front of you. “Son of a fucking bitch.”

“Whoa, whoa, that’s no way to talk about your good pal’s mother.”

With a cry of success, you manage to wrangle the last of the suit from around your ankles. “Oh, you are so funny. Is the Mayor of Goodneighbor also known for his astounding comedy routines?”

“Why, of course. Who do you think they get down in The Third Rail when Mags is sick?”

“I can’t stand you,” you huff, shaking out your damp hair. Your underthings and the thin tank top you wear under the vault suit aren’t too bad off, just damp, so you slide the sweater and pants on over them. “Are you ready for me to turn around, or do I need to continue to protect your… modesty?”

“And here I thought I was protecting yours… nah, I’m good if you are, sister.”

“Neato.” You sigh as you turn around and sink onto a patch of dry floor, trying to soak up as much warmth from the oil lamps as possible. You notice Dogmeat has taken residence a ways outside the room, likely because he keeps shaking off so much water. And, well, your other companion sits across the lamps from you, picking through his coat’s pockets, likely looking for a chem of choice to use. “I gotta say, you clean up rather well, John Hancock.”

He laughs as he pops a few mentats out of their blister packs, then dry swallows them. “Why, thank you, beautiful. Gotta say, the old world looks pretty good on you, too.”

You snort, tugging at the hem of the woven sweater. “Well, thank you, good sir. I do happen to be quite a fan of this type of sweater. I… actually think I have a few put away somewhere…”

“...why didn’t you wear one?”

“Well, I… didn’t think the winters would be so severe.”

“I mean, didn’t the term ‘nuclear winter’ get coined in your time, sister?” He teases lightly as he fishes a can of purified water out of his bag and takes a long drink.

You snatch it out of his hand when he offers it to you, huffing. “Yes, but I never thought to take it literally.”

“Hmm. Wonder who’s fault that is then.”

“Certainly not mine.”

“No, ‘course not.”

You sigh and set the can of water between the two of you before snagging a dusty pillow, turning it to the less dusty side, and stretching out on the floor. “How long do these storms tend to last?”

“Should let up in a few hours.” He mirrors your actions, but uses his arms as a pillow instead. “One good thing ‘bout it, though.”

“Nothing’s gonna brave the storm to fuck with us?”

“Yep.”

[weniswastelandwenis]

Man Under the Sea

// Hancock x Sole Survivor x X6-88 Oneshot //

The sky lit aglow with an ominous green haze, enveloping the entire wasteland in its uneasy lime hue. A sharp thunderclap sounded out, accompanied by violent howling winds which whistled through the broken windows. Sole lay uneasily on a mattress on the floor, waiting for the radstorm to pass. She had attempted to catch an hour or two of sleep, but every so often the booming thunder would startle her awake, or a tiny droplet would sneak through a hole in the roof and land on her forehead.

She resigned herself to stare at the ceiling, before being startled slightly at the sound of the door opening. Heavy footsteps sounded throughout the room and without looking up she knew who was approaching by the cadence of his uniform steps.

“You’re still awake.” X6-88 observed from where he stood above her. He must have finished patrolling the perimeter. Sole looked up at him silently at first. His face was expressionless and set resolutely as he stared at her.

“The weather is keeping me up.” She explained.

“You need to sleep, otherwise your body will fail.” He affirmed, droplets of rain dotted his face and armored coat. The water pooled at his boots and in the doorway. X6-88 didn’t take notice of his current state and continued to stare at her.

Lighting struck, illuminating his stoic face, followed by a loud rumble of thunder. She sat up quickly and looked to the window, but he did not react to look away from her. Her Geiger counter ticked ominously and X6-88 stepped forward.

“We should get back to the institute. It is clear you will not be able to sleep under these conditions.” He said. She reluctantly stood, the old springs of the mattress creaking as she gathered herself. He watched her silently, holding his arm out expectantly. She gazed at his arm with unsure eyes.

“This always makes me feel sick.” She said.

“If nausea occurs, we can visit the bioscience division if necessary.”

She placed her hand on his arm, bracing for the inevitable vertigo to come.

“X6-88 ready to relay back to the institute.”

White light flashed before her eyes blinding her temporarily, before settling on a cascading kaleidoscope of cerulean hues.

When she opened her eyes father was standing before them, hanging brain.

“Daddy.” X6-88 said firmly, performing a dual-handed salute.

“Both hands?” Father asked proudly. “Your two handedness has improved. I do hope to see more of that in Daddy’s bedroom.” He whispered in his ear, hoping Sole hadn’t heard.

She did.

Sole cleared her throat, both men unaware she too was in the room.

“Excellent, you’re back. I do hope your travels in the commonwealth have proven fruitful?” He questioned, both hands clasped behind his back, dong still hanging and swaying slightly in the breeze produced by the institute’s air conditioning.

“They have, thank you.” She forced herself to look at him eye-level even though the shriveled thing was just hanging there like that.

There was still rain on X6-88’s form, along with perspiration which was produced quite quickly much to Father’s chagrin. He gave X6-69 a knowing look. Sole excused herself from the room quickly yet respectfully and left to explore the rest of the Institute's bowels. She looked over her shoulder, and as she was leaving she saw Father plugging his phone charger into X6-88s multi tool sexily.

Sole strode through the halls, trying to forget what she just witnessed. She would never get used to the sterile environment the Institute provided. Synths strode past her like worker bees, not paying her any mind. She supposed Father was the queen.

Absent-mindedly she peered down at her Geiger counter and noticed it was getting dangerously close to the ‘dead’ level. A trip to the med-bay wouldn’t hurt.

When she arrived at the med-bay her Geiger counter strangely began to go off again. When she looked up she found Hancock, rifling through the medicine drawers and filling his pockets with jet. To his left was a dead doctor with the star spangled banner tied around her neck in a lethal stranglehold, hanging from the ceiling.

“Hancock, what in tarnation!?” Sole half squealed and half screamed. She was happy to see him as they were friends with benefits, but brushing another Hancock-induced death under the rug wasn’t what she had planned for today.

“Sister, check out this haul! No wonder these bitches love being down here so much, they’re all high as a kite and jerking each other off.”

“Tell me about it. I just saw my son’s dong.”

Suddenly X6-88 strode into the room, his tall gait strong and immovable. His muscles rippling and writhing under his skin. His height was impressively tall. He opened his mouth and an alarming air horn-like noise emitted from it.

“Intruder alert! Intruder alert!”

Sole and Hancock covered their ears (although Hancock just has ear holes) in an attempt to not be deafened.

All the sudden Father sprinted in, almost tripping as his pants were around his ankles.

“What seems to be the problem!?” His eyes shot to the dead doctor. Hancock had a “did I do that?” expression, kind of like Urkel from Family Matters.

Everyone’s eyes shot to the handkerchief around the dead doctors neck, that clearly had “property of Hancock” lovingly stitched onto the edge. Sole blushed and covered her “property of hancock” tattoo lovingly stitched on her arm.

“X6-88,” Father said expectantly and held out his hand.

X69 shot out his multi tool as ordered.

“Get ready for the ass beating of your life you little bitch.”

”And then, uhhh…” The campfire crackled around the huddled group of dirty children of Little Lamplight.

“You mungo! What happens next?!”

MacCready took a long drink from his juice box and stared up at the stars.

“There is no ending, we’ll never know what happened. And that’s life, sometimes stories just kind of… end.”

FIN

[pumpkinov]

Where the Dust Settles

New Chapter, Now on AO3! Fallout 4 - Hancock/f!SS, Mature.

Still though, he’d get her set up somewhere nice, if her stuff from Diamond City hadn’t been junked yet they’d move it across town, set her up real nice here. He dumped his hat and coat, kicked his boots off and stretched across his bed. He’d even hang some shelves up for her, hammer and nail them in himself. Get her a cat. Or a houseplant. Girls liked that sort of shit. A rug for the floor. If Goodneighbour was still standing, he’d find her a nice place to live. And fuck her in it.

Read Chapter 50: The Storm Before the Storm

Or Read From The Start!

[milton-chamberlain]

[sayodoko]

[inkegg]

Aftercare

Pose Ref

[phoneyotc]

i luv u nate

[lacquerheadd]

pov: you ask the good mayor for some chems…

[tinytorchlight]

oh well thanks for clearing that up

[currynatto]

love at first stab

[herecomesshawn]

I was going to put strong in but failed miserably

[capcollector]

why is he burrowing

[parasitecompany]

[pumpkinov]

Where the Dust Settles

New Chapter, Now on AO3! Fallout 4 - Hancock/f!SS, Mature.

“We haven’t seen her.” Portia fiddled with her shirt, “She almost killed Hancock. If I was her, I’d be hiding too.” “What, from me?” He turned and grinned at her. She rolled her eyes. “You’re terrifying.” He chuckled. “I don’t think it’s me she’s hiding from love. Hell hath no fury.”

Read Chapter 54: Keys

Or Read From The Start!

[milton-chamberlain]