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strawberrykidneystone · 4 days ago

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A Fallout 4 request, featuring John Hancock.

Nate (35) is the sole survivor but his younger sister (25) survived too. Nate is overprotective of his sister, kinda annoyingly so. Nate and his sister find Goodneighbor and meet Hancock, like a typical Fallout 4 play thru. They travel together. Sister is falling in love with Hancock because she sees how sweet he is and how ruthless he can be too. Is Hancock falling for her? Does he keep it on the down low? Sister is a bit shy, so she admires Hancock secretly. Mutual pining? Nate isn't too keen on how close they seem to be getting. Does Hancock secretly kiss the sister? Or does she kiss him first? Like what if Hancock gets a little injured and she takes care of him? Hancock is a little flirty while injured.

AHHHH I LOVE THIS ANON UR MIND!!!!

when hancock first met you and your older brother, he thought that the two fo you would be dead within the week, especially stumbling into a place like goodneighbor

he told the neighborhood watch to keep an eye on you two to make sure that no one gave you trouble, especially after your not so great welcome by finn

once the two of you are running around for a while, he truly sees how you're not just some chickens with your head cut off, but intentional about finding nate's son/your nephew

hancock sees how overprotective nate is of you and honestly doesn't blame him, after everything that his family has been through, but it sort of makes you a forbidden fruit for him

he flirts with you at the third rail whenever nate is off talking to maccready with an innuendo slipped in here and there, but nothing more than that really happens, and he doesn't expect it to

until the two of you were caught breaking into his storage room with none other than bobbi no nose

he was tickled pink when the two of you showed loyalty to a major you barely knew and talked it out peacefully with bobbi no where to be found afterward, but he was surprised that fahrenheit had given you ashmaker, which your brother immediately took away of course

nate had a shotgun on him at all times while he insisted that you have long-range weapons, you frequently switching between a sniper rifle and your beloved plasma rifle that you had spent so much time and money working on. the only thing that sucked was that the ammo cost an arm and a leg, so you usually had to save it for especially nasty enemies

the two of you went up to hancock's office after the incident and he thanked you both personally, offering to go out with the two of you on the open road to get away for a while

you said yes embarrassingly quickly, which immediately set off alarm bells in nate's mind

however, the two of you were going to have to go into the glowing sea soon and who better to help take you there than a ghoul?

plus nick liked him, so nate was a little more inclined to trust him

he also couldn't resist your puppy dog eyes, begging him to let the poor major join you on your journey

and so, the three of you set off after he made his goodbye speech to the town, like a terd of hurdles (herd of turtles, sorry its a family joke)

in your downtime when you're not helping settlements or clearing out buildings of raiders for basically table scraps for the brotherhood, the three of you stop in either trailers or homes that have at least 2 beds so you can rotate on who keeps watch while the others sleep

the three of you talk around a campfire, the two of you talking about life before the way and hancock spewing about all the dirty secrets of the people of goodneighbor, it was all in good fun

the way the three of you walked, nate was usually at the front while you and hancock formed a somewhat triangle formation behind him

the three of you usually travel in a comfortable silence, keeping an ear out for any enemies that might be around that you couldn't focus on if you were knee-deep in a conversation

but that's also when you and hancock share stolen glances at each other, walking too close to one another that your hands brush or your shoulders bump, little moments that had hancock feeling like a little schoolboy with a crush again

of course nate saw none of this as the two of you would straighten out if he showed even an inkling of turning around

nate had been adamant about not doing any drugs, which you called him a hypocrite for since he was basically a drug dealer with how much jet he made on an almost regular basis

he almost had a heart attack the first time he ever saw you smoking a cigarette for god's sake

but with hancock around, he gets more lenient, which you definitely appreciate

plus, hancock is a good drug trip babysitter

the two of you laughed your asses off at nate's first jet high, he was so far gone that he didn't even notice how you fell onto hancock's lap as you clutched your sides

when it's hancock's turn to watch and you can't sleep, the two of you sit together and share a cigarette while nate is snoring away

you feel a tickle in your tummy as you realized it's technically an "indirect kiss", but you make no comment about it. hancock is flirty with everyone, there's no way that what he was saying was genuine to you... right?

over the next week, you find more plasma cartridges in your bad that you swear weren't there before, along with packs of your favorite cigarettes

you're pretty sure you know who the offender is, but you don't say anything. he's probably leaving stuff for nate too right?

as the three of you continue to travel on, the days turn into weeks and you see just how much hancock sticks to his moral code and helping those who can't help themselves

you had never seen anyone so passionate about helping people and wanting to live as authentically as possible, you couldn't help but admire him for it

it was sort of funny, the more your crush grew, the shyer you got around him while the more that hancock fell for you, the more genuine and specific his compliments got

"you really nailed that headshot today" "pork 'n beans has never tasted so good" "is that prewar perfume? how the hell did that glass bottle survive the blast? damn, well it was definitely made for you."

he doesn't use pet names because he KNOWS nate will smack him upside the head, little does he know that nate has been catching onto the two of you catching feelings for one another

nate has a serious talk with you about hancock while he's out bathing and it takes a LOT to wear him down, but he finally says that he trusts your judgment. while he might not like that hancock uses a multitude of drugs, he is a pretty decent guy overall

he still hovers and basically doesn't let the two of you out of his sight after his suspicions are confirmed, but he's been grilling hancock a lot about questions about his life LMAO

anyways, you're too chicken to confess and hancock is too apprehensive of nate to confess, so it goes on in awkwardness for a few days

until hancock gets injured

like BADLY injured

i'm talking knocking on death's door, you had to rush him to doctor amari, serious

you didn't leave his side the whole time she was patching him up, squeezing his hand in yours while holding back tears

when he finally wake up, he gives you a drowsy smile and says, "well damn, i thought i made it to heaven with such a beautiful angel waking me up."

you laughed and finally let your tears flow, a weight off of your chest as you leaned down and finally kissed him

you could feel his breath hitch against your mouth before he returned the kiss, his rough lips pushing back against yours

doctor amari shooed you off him to check his vitals and make sure he was stable, well stable enough for a ghoul before sending him off with a clean bill of health

nate was waiting outside of the memory den for the two of you with his arms crossed and a knowing look on his face

he gave hancock the protective "if you hurt her I'll kill you" speel that you're sure your father would've given him back in the dayand you couldn't help but smile as he reminded you of your fallen family member

you hugged nate tightly and smiled as you felt his arms wrap tightly around you, a silent 'i love you' from him

pulling back and lacing your hand with hancock's, the three of you set off once again into the commonwealth, ready to face whatever was in store for all of you

a/n: im so sorry yall i kinda ran rampant with this one /pos

#john hancock #john hancock x reader #john hancock fo4 #john hancock fallout #john hancock headcanon #john hancock x female reader #john hancock x fem reader #nate fallout #strawberrykidneystone #strawberrykidneystonewrites #john hancock fluff #fo4 #fallout 4

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sweetcocopowder · 2 months ago

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Day 11: Crossdressing

Synopsis: Nate needs a plus one to a party but it has to be a woman. And Hancock is his closest best bet.

Word Count: 4.2K

Pairing: Hancock / Nate (Male Sole Survivor)

Warnings: Anal sex. Hand job. Slight exhibitionism. Anal fingering. Crossdressing. Womanizing.

Notes: I had an idea. I kept going. Hancock in a dress!? No problem ehhe

Hancock frowns, glaring toward Nate who’s straightens up in his tuxedo. It’s an old thing that he bought from that goddamn Vault 81 for the occasion. It’s something nicer than anything from Good Neighbour or even Diamond City. But it’s a vast contrast to what the ghoul is wearing.

“Now why is it I gotta wear this?” Hancock complains.

He purposefully pops a hip out as he faces Nate with a frown. He stands in front of a mirror wearing a bright red sequence dress. It holds tightly around his body that has Nate’s dark eyes gazing down at every inch of the ghoul’s body. Hancock raises a brow, waiting for the vault dweller to snap out of it.

“Because Piper couldn’t join me,” Nate states as if that should answer everything.

“What about Cait?” Hancock asks.

“I’d be dead before I got her in a dress.”

“And Curie?”

Nate pauses to that, thinking. “She’s too sweet to be doing something like this.”

Hancock chuckles raspily. “That’s true.”

“So,” Nate walks over with a several things in hand. “We’ll just need to doll you up a bit,” he says.

He whisps a dirty feather scarf around Hancock’s neck and shoulders, causing the ghoul to scrunch up his face as the feather’s tickle is face. The once white feathers are now a dirty brown, bits of… stuff in the scarf that Nate picks out to try and make Hancock look decent. He then straightens the bra that Hancock wears underneath the dress that gives himself the illusion of having breasts. Nate takes a step back and looks Hancock’s chest over before shoving scrunched up paper into the cups.

Hancock’s eyes widen at the action. He watches Nate work, some sort of amazement coming over him at how natural he does all of this. No way he’s done this before.

Then the long blonde wig is being placed gently onto his head. Nate concentrates in straightening it and Hancock doesn’t dare move a muscle. His black eyes stare at the man in front of him, having nowhere else to look. His tongue pokes slightly from between his lips as he concentrates, and the ghoul has to hold back a chuckle.

Once done, Nate takes two steps away to look Hancock over with a grand smile on his face. He’s looks proud of himself that makes Hancock feel less of a fool for agreeing to do this job for the man.

“You guys wouldn’t still have fake eyelashes two hundred years later?” Nate asks. “Or lip gloss?”

Hancock walks over to a draw on the other end of his office. “We’ve got lip stick but fake eye lashes? Is that what people did back then?” The ghoul picks out an unlabelled tin and throws it over to Nate. “Don’t ask why I have this.”

“Noted,” Nate mumbles as he looks over said tin.

He opens it up and inside is a dark red balm similar to squashed up lip stick. This is perfect. Nate sits down on one of the couches in the room and pushes aside all the jet and other chems on the table. Hancock should really at least arrange his chems better than leaving them lying around.

“Come here,” he says as he pats the table.

“Damn we’re really getting into this aren’t we?” Hancock says as he sits where Nate wants him.

Nate laughs at that as he dips a finger into the lip stick. “I really, really don’t want this to turn into a shoot out. I’ve had enough of those.”

“But seeing me fight in this dress would be such a sight,” Hancock grins, making a show of hiking the dress up his thigh a little.

The vault dweller flushes red at this but doesn’t hide it. “Okay, maybe we could rile up a few people.”

Said event that the two of them are going to is a party that Marowski is holding. Something underground in a cellar that’s deep within the tunnels. It smells like something died and Nate only complains once.

Marowski had invited Nate for helping him with killing those three men. The ones that had robbed him all those years ago. Nate had been hesitant, but at the time he had been desperate for the caps. And MacCready had urged him to take the job, splitting the caps down the middle. Nate didn’t particularly like being a hired gun, but MacCready being MacCready didn’t have an issue with it.

Maybe he should’ve gotten him in a dress to come with Nate. Because this dress really likes hiking up around his ass. Hancock straightens the dress as they walk along the edge of the tunnel with a grumble. His heels click and clack loudly against the walls. He just hopes that no mole rat or radroach can hear him down here.

But so, Nate had wanted to bring a plus one instead of going into this alone. Because he didn’t trust Marowski with a ten foot stick of him. And also, Piper had wanted the gossip on what was happening in these underground parties. For some reason she couldn’t come, something that Nate hadn’t gone too far into.

With Piper out of the picture, having Hancock rock up, the Mayor of Goodneighbour wouldn’t be the best of things. That would lead to a shootout. Cause even though Marowski likes Hancock, he doesn’t want the ghoul in his private affairs.

But having a woman join Nate as his partner, it would be less threatening. Nate just hopes that people don’t see past the disguise. And if Hancock keeps quiet and doesn’t speak much or speaks in a more feminine voice, then he reckons they’ll be fine.

Nate helps Hancock up the stairs, the ghoul stumbling in his heels once more. He curses loudly, his voice echoing down the tunnel.

Who’s he kidding. This is probably going to end ass up and he’ll have a blast either way. As long as he doesn’t have to wear these heels the entire night.

The party is held in an old bunker that use to belong to one of those pre-war survivalist. That’s stocked up on everything and anything to last out as long as they could. But with the three large and long rooms there are, it’s been stripped and rearranged into a classic looking place. Food is being served by Mr. Handy’s on trays and people are conversating and bustling. Electricity has been run down here and lights and lanterns shine with a yellow, dusty glow.

Nate can feel a layer of sweat beginning to form on the small of his back. He’s been so worried of Hancock keeping his cool that he hasn’t realize that he may lose it himself. God he was bred from the army. The last thing he was, was a theatre kid. That was more up Nora’s ally. She would have thrived in this world.

Hancock clings to Nate’s arm like any woman might do. His black eyes glance around the place, spotting a few more ghouls about and conversating. All dressed up just him in either suits or dresses. He’s just glad that he won’t stand out like a sore thumb with the rest of them. But by god is this fucking hilarious. Acting like some bachelorette clinging to Nate’s arm while smiling to anyone that looks his way with his dark red lips.

Nate looks fine himself in that tuxedo, goddamn dashing. Hancock spots a few wandering eyes lingering on Nate, eyeing him up and down with a smirk upon their lips. He’s placed a red handkerchief in his pocket to match Hancock’s dress. His black hair is slicked back and he’s shaven for the occasion. His eyes glance around the room, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly. Hancock grins as he cups Nate’s face, making the man look down at him.

“Sweetie now,” Hancock whispers, “Don’t need to get so worried about all this. Just play it cool like you always do and we’ll get out of this with one less bullet in us.”

Nate smiles at that. “You know we still never got that bullet out of my ass.”

“Curie tried,” Hancock chuckles. “But she said it would be better to leave it there,” he whispers as he looks back out to the room.

“Yeah well, wouldn’t be the first piece of metal in me,” Nate chuckles softly.

“Ouch.”

Nate holds onto Hancock’s arm a little tighter. “Let’s get this over and done with. I want to speak with everyone and get the hell outta here.”

A Mr. Handy comes around with a tray of fancy looking pastries. A delicacy out here in the wasteland that Nate doesn’t let up. He plucks two off the tray, thanking the robot before it moves off.

“Well look at that it has cream on it and everything,” Hancock hushes.

“I hope it tastes as good as it looks,” Nate says before popping it into his mouth.

He holds the second one out to Hancock to take. But the ghoul wraps his mouth around the treat and Nate’s fingers, captivating the man’s attention on him. He leaves lip stick marks on Nate’s fingers as he pulls away, his gaze never leaving the man that flushes a beautiful bright red.

“If you keep that up I really won’t be able to last this party,” Nate dares Hancock on.

The ghoul pats his chest. “After you get what you need. Don’t wanna spoil your fun too early.”

The next few hours go by with a quite boring manner of things. There’s a lot of talking on Nate’s behalf. Marowski is more than thrilled to see Nate attend his party. Being the man that killed three crooks that wronged him so long ago. There was even a small toast to him that was half assed in itself.

Marowski had commented on Nate’s plus one up and down with a sly grin. Didn’t elaborate anything else on that. Instead sucking on his cigar and blowing it towards Hancock. In that moment, the ghoul had nearly broken his own cover. But with a tight squeeze on his waist from Nate, he kept to himself, smiling at the fat man with all his teeth.

After that interaction, a few others came up and spoke to Nate. All commenting on how a vault dweller of all people had helped Marowski. They also weren’t shy to comment on Nate’s taste to bring a ghoul to the party. Hancock held his tongue but his trigger finger itches. They had packed guns, one strapped to the ghoul’s inner thigh and oh how did want to use it right now. But for Nate’s sake, until he said go, Hancock is going to stay behaved and smiling at the men that leer his way.

Then, the bar was found very quickly. There wasn’t really anyone here that Nate knew par from the big man himself. He had met a lot of people in the wastelands but none of them were these whack jobs. He takes a small sip of the whiskey on ice he’s been served. It tastes closer to a puddle of water than anything else, but he needs something in his system at the moment.

Hancock holds a cigarette in hand as he leans heavily on the bar. He watches Nate nurse his drink with a solemn look. This entire night did not go the way Nate wanted it to go. It wanted to find out more about the underground crime. The main reason why he wanted Piper to tag along. But no one will spill anything. It’s not that their lips are sealed or that they’re closed off, its just that everyone here would rather talk about their expensive whores and how many caps they have.

The ghoul licks his lips before leaning closer to Nate. The man looks to him with raised brows, his mouth still a thin line.

“Well tonight was a turn over,” Hancock comments.

“Yeah. Looks like Piper’s going to have to get her story somewhere else,” Nate says as he turns around, looking around to the crowd.

“You win some, you lose some,” Hancock shrugs before taking a long drag of his cigarette.

He offers it out to Nate, who refuses with a soft shake of his head. He’s never seen Nate pick up a cigarette or a single chem. The only poison he’ll partake in is alcohol. Must be some pre-war thing he has going on.

“I have other ideas to keep tonight interesting at least,” Hancock grins. “Be a real shame to put this dress to waste.”

“We are not shooting up the place,” Nate scowls lightly, the thought of having to put so much effort in it making him twitch.

Hancock rolls his eyes as he leans further into Nate’s bubble. He wraps a hand around the man’s thigh, massaging inwards with his fingers. He hears a shudders exhale come from Nate and the ghoul grins around his cigarette. He leans back against the bar, making a show of popping his hip out. He grabs his cigarette in hand before exhaling into Nate’s flabbergasted face.

The entire night Nate has been a right ol’ gentleman and it’s been driving Hancock insane. He wants Nate to hold him like a man would possessively old their woman. But it’s all been soft touches and careful movements. No wonder why everyone is so head over heels for the man.

“Do you want to leave?” Nate asks as he places down his unfinished whiskey.

Hancock puts his cigarette out on the bar. “Nah, why wait?”

Nate lets himself be pulled away from the bar by the ghoul, an almost giddy look on his face. Hancock finds the small toiletries that’s in this old survival place. It’s only a small room with a sink and a toilet that’s seen better days. Neither of them could care if anyone sees them stoop inside together, their attention is only on each other.

Hancock locks the door behind him but is quick to lean up and kiss Nate. The man towers over him, in height and width. He holds Hancock close to him, a hand clenching into a fist into the back of the dress and the other holding onto the ghoul’s face as they kiss. It’s a sloppy, needy kiss and that leaves Nate’s mouth and chin covered in red lipstick.

After all the light touches and everything from tonight, Hancock can’t get enough of the man. His hands don’t know where to touch. His hair, his neck, his waist, his arms. Everywhere.

With little effort, Nate lifts Hancock up onto the sink. The ceramic creaks but doesn’t give way to the added weight thankfully. Nate continues to kiss the ghoul, his hands never leaving his warped skin. He takes the scarf off of him, discarding it to the floor so that he has full access to Hancock’s neck. A groan escapes the ghoul’s gaped mouth, something he has to stifle in his fist to stop himself from being too loud. He can feel his dick tenting in the dress, the tight fabric becoming an annoying cage.

He doesn’t care at this point, but he doesn’t think it’ll look good on Nate’s shoulders to be hiding the mayor of Good Neighbour into a party. It’d be funny as all hell, Hancock would love to see some of their reactions. The door opening to see Hancock pinned to the sink with Nate hovering over him, engulfing him in his mass. But for Nate’s sake. He’ll try to be quiet.

But it’s very hard when Nate brings out some gun oil from the inside of his jacket and begins lathering his fingers up with it.

“You devious bastard,” Hancock grins.

Nate chuckles breathlessly at that, his lips smothered in red lipstick. Dark blue eyes look at Hancock, trailing from up his crotch, to his stomach, to the work that’s been done on his neck, to the ghoul’s grin that doesn’t seem to be going away any time soon.

“I like to come prepared,” Nate pants.

“For a gun fight or a good fuck?” Hancock quips as he opens his legs a little bit more for the other man.

“A little bit of both,” the man chuckles.

Nate runs a hand over the ghoul’s inner thigh, pulling him off the sink a tad so that he’s closer to his hips. His oil slicked hand dives under the dress and Hancock can’t help but moan as a large hand wraps around his sensitive cock. He grips onto the sink as Nate strokes him a few times. Firmly and slowly. A pace that has him aching for more.

“Maybe I should have you dress up as a woman more often,” Nate comments. “Have you in pretty dresses and lipstick so that the entirety of Goodneighbour can see their mayor.”

A shiver runs down Hancock’s back at just the thought. “Wouldn’t that be a sight,” he breathes out.

Nate grins at that as his hand slips out from under the dress to slick up his fingers again before diving back under. This time, two fingers prod at Hancock’s ass. The ghoul hums as Nate engulfs his mouth in a sloppy kiss. All as he easily pushes two slicked fingers into Hancock. He groans deep within his throat at that, grabbing onto the back of Nate’s head and gripping into his hair.

With a little desperation on Nate’s end, he prods and fucks his fingers into Hancock quickly. It leaves the ghoul pulling away from the kiss, breathless and panting. He knocks his forehead against Nate’s, breathing in his scent. Of sweat, musk and gun powder. A man of the wastelands.

The pleasure coils and grips deep within Hancock’s gut, the friction from the dress on his dick already becoming too much. Nate’s scissors his fingers within him and Hancock grinds his teeth, tugging on his hair tighter. He locks his legs around Nate’s waist, pulling him closer and encasing him in. Even if he wanted to, Hancock wouldn’t let him go.

“I wish everyone could see you now,” Nate rumbles lowly. “See what such a pretty woman you make.”

The words go straight to Hancock’s dick, his heart racing within his chest. He drags his hands out of Nate’s hair to hook a thumb into the corner of his mouth to pull him away slightly. Nate goes willingly and doesn’t stop his movements within Hancock. He slips in a third finger, biting down Hancock’s own fingers lightly. His dark blue eyes watch the ghoul intensely as their gaze doesn’t faulter from one another at all. Not even when Hancock’s face screws up and his mouth become agape so prettily at the new intrusion and the feeling of being Nate’s thick fingers.

“Let them know then that I’m your gal,” Hancock grins something toothy. “Let them hear me.”

He’s playing a very dangerous game, but isn’t that what the wasteland is. Everyone must already know what’s happening inside of this small toiletry. Maybe there’s even some pervert outside with his ear to the door, listening to every groan and moan coming from the two men with his hands in his pants. Probably wondering why they can’t hear a woman’s voice behind the thin wooden door. But maybe they aren’t. all ghouls sound the same after all.

Nate’s fingers leave Hancock to only be replaced by the head of his already leaking cock. When did he have time to undo his pants, Hancock must of lost track of time. Cause Nate is desperate himself as he pushes in, trying not to bite too harshly down on Hancock’s thumb. Hancock can’t help the moan that escapes his mouth, something that comes from his chest. He drags his thumb from Nate’s mouth, a string of saliva connecting the two for a moment before snapping off. The ghoul holds onto the survivor’s shoulders as Nate pumps his hips lightly.

With each thrust, Nate is able to slowly get every inch of himself into Hancock’s warmth. The ghoul pants, his movement making his body buzz. If he wasn’t holding onto Nate he knows he’d be shaking.

Finally, Nate bottom’s out, filling Hancock with every inch of his cock. The ghoul shivers, his legs tightening around Nate’s waist so he doesn’t move for a moment. He wants to relish in this just a moment longer. Feeling only Nate inside of him, feeling every inch of him.

But with a strong hand, Nate grips onto one of Hancock’s legs and brings it up to rest on his shoulder. He holds the ghoul up, keeping him on the sink so that he doesn’t fall. It’s bit of an awkward position, Hancock will give the survivor that. His dress rides up further and his cock springs free. The gun strapped to his thigh is on full display as well, like one of those bands that whores wear for show. But awkwardness of the position goes out the window when Nate begins moving. The new angle giving him more room to hit those certain spots that bring those delicious sounds out of the ghoul’s mouth.

He doesn’t stop Hancock, letting him moan and pant with every movement and harsh thrust that he does. He pulls the wig off of Hancock, throwing it to the toiletry floor so that he can hold the back of the ghoul’s head. All so he can swallow those noises into a deep, tongue filled kiss.

It’s pure bliss. Hancock can’t think straight. Something about being fucked in a tight dress and heels is something that he would not have thought he’d be into. But here he is. Truly, anything is possible in the wastelands.

A large hand snakes down to Hancock’s crotch, finally wrapping around his weeping cock after what feels like ages. The ghoul has to pull away as the oil slicked hand wraps around his balls before leading to the base of his dick. He shakily exhales, trying to catch his breath that Nate has oh so quickly swept away. Nate matches his pace with his thrusts, a quick and firm pace. One that has Hancock needing more.

They might just have to do this again with how much Hancock is enjoying himself. If Nate has any other parties to attend to in the future and needs a plus one, he’ll be more than willing dress up again. He does love it when he gets all frustrated and pent up like this. The social interactions was nailing into him and getting under his skin more than he was letting on. Hancock hadn’t-

Nate suddenly lifts Hancock off the sink, letting the ghoul wraps his legs around his waist once more out of surprise more than anything. With strong hands around his waist, Hancock is pressed against the nearby wall. His back pressed against the peeling paint but he doesn’t give a fuck. He can’t think of anything else when Nate pushes back inside of him and begins a brutal, deep pace.

They’re so close together now that Hancock’s dick grinds up against Nate’s suit. He’s already spoiled the dress, may as well spoil his suit as well. It’s not like they’re being very secretive anyways. Not with the way that Nate is pounding the raspy moans from the ghoul.

Hancock can feels himself coming closer and closer and he tries to hold on. He doesn’t want this moment to end. Not just yet. No yet- his orgasm hits him like a brick to the gut. He holds onto Nate tightly, his nails digging into his suit as he comes. He tightens around Nate’s cock deep inside of him, stuttering the man in his movements. But the new found friction awards the ghoul’s ears with a deep growl that comes from deep within Nate’s throat.

Nate fucks Hancock through his high, his fingers digging painfully into his sides. Hancock loves it though, panting breathlessly as he watches through peery eyes as Nate’s hair has fallen in front of his face. His head is bowed, grunts and groans escaping his parted lips. He looks beautiful, and so Hancock brings him in for a sloppy, breathless kiss that neither of them are too concentrated on. They more or less mouth at each other, needing each other’s taste, smearing the lipstick even further.

With a stutter in his movements, Nate drives himself within Hancock as he comes. The ghoul groans deeply, shuddering at the warm sensation of Nate coming inside of in. His hips stutter as he thrusts shallowly through his own orgasm, small pants hitching off his lips into Hancock’s mouth. It’s cute. Something that the ghoul could watch all day.

Nate pulls out with a soft whine that the ghoul only just catches. He holds Hancock against the wall for a moment longer, his dark blue eyes finally focusing back on him.

“Alright there, big boy?” Hancock asks with a toothy grin.

Nate can’t help but smile back, Hancock’s own being very contagious. “We are keeping the dress,” he says instead.

Hancock chuckles at that, his nerves still twitchy post orgasm. “Oh, indeed we are. Maybe you might see me get to shoot some people while wearing this.”

“Heels and all?” Nate asks, big blue eyes staring into the ghoul’s soul.

“Heels and all.”

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jeweljessec-fallout · 2 years ago

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Doodles

#gale #fallout 4 #gale and nate #institute au #a little as a treat #sole x x6-88 #Hancock x edward deegan #sole survivor #digital art #oc artwork #x6 88

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hanckocks-dagger · 5 months ago

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oh, the night's so blue

masterlist

John hancock x f!reader

Description: After a drunken one night stand with your boss and mayor, you'd planned on hiding out in your room for several months. Those plans get delayed when Nate, general of the Minutemen and your childhood friend, asks you to join him on a quest in the west of the Commonwealth.

Tags: Drunken one night stand, Hancock is a pining simp, and a slut. Reader is not SoSu, has afab characteristics and is referred to with she/her pronouns through the story. No y/n

Warnings: Smut! Drunk sex, consentual but I'll throw in the dubcon tag anyway, talk of violence, guns and drugs a lá Fallout ofc

Word count: 6.1K

Notes: So this is a one-shot that sort of feeds into an idea I've had in my head for a while, of a reader that knew Nate from before the bombs, who either ended up in Vault 111 as well or something similar, but got out about a year before Nate did. This might end up turning into a series of semi-connected one-shots or I might just cut it off here, but I definitely have some other ideas for this story rolling around in my head. More story focused than some of my other fics, delving a bit more into what actually living in the game's story would be like, but of course a hefty dose of our lovely Hancock. But I really like Nate, and I didn't want to make the reader the Sole Survivor so we could see the two of them interact. Also my Nate build is usually high charisma, high strength and low intelligence (idiot savant perk ofc), so he's a bit of a himbo <3 my fav type of man.

Also just a small and totally irrelevant thing, but I headcanon Nate/the sole survivor as choosing not to smoke, just because the player isn’t able to smoke in the game. Just a fun tidbit I threw in there. Also, I’m a smoker and I have friends who aren’t and the relentless back and forth teasing is always fun. They all vape anyway, so it’s just a race for who gets cancer first lmao.

Cross posted on my ao3!

"What's the status on the top shelf stuff?" You yelled out from the back room, wiping drops of sweat from your forehead before they could drop into your eyes. Sure, the new beer tap was ingenious, making the closest thing to actual fresh beer since you'd come out on this side of the cryo-chamber, but goddamn were the canisters heavy.

"Almost out of moonshine, luv," Charlie called from the bar, tinny cockney accent carrying through the open space.

That was fine, you could drop by and speak to Vadim tomorrow before opening, as long as Hancock could supply the caps and lend you some help to carry the bottles back.

"Anything else?" You grunted, heaving a full canister back out to the front, bending down to connect the pipes.

"I think you should start carrying some Fireball, I know how much you used to like it," A new voice spoke up from the other side of the bar, startling you into banging your head on the underside of the bartop. You cursed, shooting to your feet, finding a ginning, familiar face on the other side.

"Nate!"

He said your name back with the same amount of enthusiasm, slouched in one of the barstools, familiar bright blue vault suit looking a little worse for wear.

"When did you get in? How did you get in?" You asked, eyes flitting about. Sure enough, there in the background, spread over one of the couches was mayor Hancock, speaking with a smiling Magnolia and a broody looking MacReady.

"Just landed in town, figured I'd come say hi before crashing at the Rexford."

"Well, shit," You breathed, wiping your sweaty hands on a dishrag, "Can I get you a drink? I want to hear about this oh-so-secret mission you were on."

"Sure, I'll take a beer."

You fished over a clean-ish looking glass, gave it a quick wipe for good measure, and poured. The movements were practiced, muscle memory from a lifetime ago taking over as you tilted the glass, filled it, flicked the spout the other way for some top foam. You slid it over the bar, accepting Nate’s smile as payment.

You grabbed yourself a glass, calling out to Charlie as you filled the glass with ice, “I’m calling it a night, just leave me a list of whatever needs to be done in the morning.

You poured yourself some of the top shelf stuff, nothing good by pre-war standards, but nowadays it was rare and mostly didn't taste like it was 200 years old.

You stepped around the bar, planning on planting yourself on a stool next to Nate, but he was already rising to his feet, heading for the rest of the group.Hiding your awkwardness, you trailed after him. You knew MacReady tangentially, sometimes bringing him drinks into the backroom, keeping an eye out for disagreements and sometimes running up to get Ham when things were getting out of hand. Magnolia was your coworker of course, and there was plenty to talk about after long shifts, but she was– technically speaking– about twenty years your senior, and married to her job in a way you weren't.

Then there was Mayor Hancock. A charming flirt at the best of times, happy to stand up for you on the job, as the owner of the bar, after all, but there was always something about him you never managed to crack, never straying away from genial small talk. Small talk, of course, these days, meant discussing the last Super Mutant raid, or let him rattle off about his favorite chems. As you approached, he tipped his hat at you and you responded with a little curtsy, using your free hand to tug on your apron like a skirt.

You fell onto the couch beside Nate, stirring your drink with a finger, using your other hand to untie the apron around your waist. Being off your feet felt good. There were no clocks in the Third Rail, and no windows, so your sense of time tended to get a bit skewed, but seeing as Ham usually tossed out the stragglers by 5 am and you'd had a mess and a half to clean up, you assumed it must be closing in on dawn. A rough 12 hour shift made your liquor feel earned, as you sipped at it, feeling the warmth spread through your chest.

"So," You said, catching Nate's attention before he could get sucked into the others' conversation, "What was the notorious General of the Minutemen up to this week? Liberating some more settlements?"

"Mmm, actually doing some work for the Railroad," His tone went hushed, unnecessary and strangely endearing, as everyone in the bar knew and was at least non-committal about their activities.

"Ahh," You replied, matching his tone. "Did it go well?"

"It went fantastically. I brought my own team in," He motioned with his beer toward Hancock and MacCready, "But we ended up getting some help from another agent, too. And, man, what a lady," he went a bit starry eyed, making you laugh.

"Got a little crush, Nathaniel?"

He snorted, and you spotted the tinge of red in his cheeks with glee.

"Nothing like that, but what a powerhouse. You should have seen her, mowing them down with a minigun."

"Don't sell yourself short, Nate, I've seen you in Power Armor before. Unstoppable force and all that."

Ever humble, Nate's cheeks turned rosier, and he glanced down at his drink. You watched his Adam's apple bob, the shy smile that graced his features.

To put him out of his misery, you turned to the group at large, "So, does this mean you've returned our beloved mayor back, or are you heading out again?"

Hancock's attention snapped up from MacReady so he could grin at you, "What, you missed me doll?"

"Well, you do sign my paychecks," You smiled back at him, then remembered, "Oh, yeah, speaking of, I have to go over to Diamond City tomorrow to get more of Bobrov's best, maybe I can steal Nate to help me ferry it all back."

He hummed, "What d'ya say, brother? 100 caps to keep my favorite employee safe?"

From behind the bar, Charlie gave his best impression of a grunt, "I resent that, mayor!"

"'M sorry, Charlie, you just don't have her charm."

"Or her tits," Magnolia chimed in, twirling an unlit cigarette in her fingers as she smirked at you.

You flushed, eyes flitting around, finally landing on Hancock and MacReady's empty glasses, "Refills, boys?"

"Thought you'd clocked out," MacReady said, even as he handed over his glass. "Well, I'm the club's ambassador even after hours, gotta keep the reputation up."

"You best not be giving free drinks to every sorry brother that walks in here," Hancock called after you as you stepped behind the bar.

"Mm, no," You sing-songed back, "Only my favorites."

The night passed easily. You stayed by Nate’s sidelistening to him tell tales of the people he'd been meeting, the farm he recruited for the minutemen last week. He didn't delve too far into this last mission, always the good soldier who followed orders. You spent about twenty minutes trying to guess his secret Railroad code name.

"Mmmm, buttercup."

"Not even close."

"Sugar bomb?"

The look of offense he gave you was so scathing it had you spitting out half your beer over the table, doubled over in laughter as he complained.

"It relates to my prowess as an agent, not some pre-war pet name!"

"Fine, fine, uhhhh. Striker? Shadow? Tank?"

"Honestly, these are terrible. Never open a baby naming business."

"Uhm, excuse you," You said, taking a sip of beer to try and reduce the heat in your cheeks, "I would make excellent raider names. Chainsaw, evil-eye, uhhhhh," You cast your eyes around, searching for inspiration, "Ricky."

"Ricky?" MacReady asked, eyebrows knit in confusion, "What's wrong with Ricky?"

"Dunno," You shrugged, "Doesn't he just sound like an asshole?" You put on an air, repeated 'Ricky' in an ominous voice, which got MacReady and Nate to crack up again.

Magnolia vanished up to the surface after a bit of flirting with Hancock, insisting on her beauty sleep. As was your usual, you whistled after her, calling lewd, joking comments as she walked up the steps. As was her usual, she gave you a scowl and the middle finger.

"Ehhh, I'll get her to crack one of these days," You murmured into your beer, that tipsy, never ending giddy smile stuck on your lips. You caught Hancock's eye where he sat, now alone on the couch, spread eagle with his gangly limbs. When he spotted you, he gave you a grin, cigarette in his teeth.

Suddenly you desperately wanted a smoke. You patted your own pockets, found that you'd left them at home. You cursed the you from the morning for whatever logic had made that choice, suddenly desperate for nicotine.

Your head, resting against the back of the couch, lolled to look over at Nate. Who, of course, didn't and had never smoked. Goody-two-shoes.

So, you clambered to your feet, ignoring the ache that made itself apparent, and collapsed over besides Hancock.

"Does the good mayor have some cigarettes to share?" You asked, hand on his knee, leaning in close to be heard over a playful argument MacReady and Nate had started.

Hancock's smile got wider somehow, those deep dark eyes crinkling at the corner, giving the appearance of crow's feet.

"For you? Always." He dug around in the deep pocket's of that crazy coat, pulling out a cigarette case. Instead of handing you one, though, he plucked the one from his mouth and stuck it into yours.

Brain slowed by a long shift and plenty of alcohol, it took a moment for the action to catch up with, fingers rising slowly to pluck at the cigarette. You blinked at him, but he seemed unphased, pulling out another cigarette from his case and lighting it.

You leant back in the couch as your brain caught up on his move, staring blankly at a gesturing Nate, MacReady equally engrossed, somehow having missed the interaction that now had your brain reeling. Hancock's arm was stretched out behind you, tantalizingly close, fingers almost tickling the hairs at the back of you neck. You felt the chill of goosebumps, shook off the urge to shiver.

You puffed at the cigarette instead, slowly sinking back in the couch, reverting back to the sort of talk you were used to with the mayor, "How'd you like the trip? Nice to get out of the city?"

Hancock took it in stride, as he did everything, "Oh, yeah. Makes you forget what's out there, staying too long in these walls."

You hummed your assent. You stuck to Goodneighbor because you wanted to stay alive. The furthest you'd ventured in the last year was scoping out that brewery for the Rexford. But Hancock was a ghoul, and even so was more careless with safety than anyone else you knew. Getting out of the city, with only yourself and the stars as company... it was a romantic idea.

"So, what, we're gonna become the Railroad's home base now?" You teased,

"Not exactly," Hancock replied, flicking ash off the end of his cigarette, "But Nate knows his shit, and he trusts them. They're doing good, dontcha think?"

You considered this, rolling it around in your liquor soaked brain, "I guess it depends on whether you think the synths are just robots or... y'know, slaves being put through just as much pain as we are."

Hancock nodded, eyes trained on you, expression curious. For all his flirting, Hancock was easily one of the more respectable men you'd met, always willing to listen, even if he was usually a bit too out of his mind to interpret it. He was whip-smart, too, when he was sober enough to put a thought together.

"I suppose it depends on if you believe in the soul. Do you, Mayor Hancock?" Some deep-seated, long ago buried urge reared his head. You remembered being a kid, sitting in a diner with high-school friends, batting your eyelashes at a crush of yours, a coy smile on your face, trying for a sultry voice and missing it by a mile. But now you were about two hundred years older, and had a few years of experience under your back.

So when you looked at Hancock through lidded eyes, purposely hollowed your cheek as you sucked on your cigarette, the one that had been in his mouth before yours, you could appreciate his reaction. The widening of his eyes, the way the hand behind your head seemed to move just a bit closer, the minute shift of his hips as his body turned further towards you.

"I think I'm a bit too sober for those kinds of questions," He snickered. Being a Ghoul made determining age difficult, but sometimes you were sure Hancock was young, younger than you even, the way he carried himself, the carelessness of a teenager.

You smiled back, soft, put your cigarette out in an ashtray on the table, picking up your glass instead.

Hancock said your name, sultry, and that hand finally brushed your shoulder, a gentle, teasing touch.

You answered with a smile, a tilted, " John," followed by a sip from your drink, one you concentrated all your effort into drinking as normally as you could. If you let your tongue slide over your lips to catch the lingering taste, well, no one had to know.

"You know," You said, voice hushed as if you were revealing a great secret, "I feel like I don't know you well enough. You haven't been around enough since you hired me."

"I knew I left the bar in good hands," As if to prove his point, his fingers teased over your bare forearm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "Maybe, I should- ah- give you a tour of the Old State House sometime."

The innuendo was painfully obvious, accompanied by a lecherous wink, but you felt your face flush anyway, ridiculously charmed by his brazenness.

Charlie ended up kicking the four of you out, insisting on sweeping before the sun came up. On the way up the stairs, conspicuously a few steps behind Nate and MacReady, the two of you got a bit too handsy, after you'd spent the last couple of minutes petting the velvet of his coat, hypnotized by the luxurious softness of the ancient costume, as Hancock rattled off history facts about Boston, some of which you'd half remembered from history class.

"Found the old fucker's diary in a closet on the second floor," He'd said, as your fingers traced down his arms, across his chest, barely disguised fascination. You wanted to steal his hat, tuck it onto your hair, flick it the way Hancock often did.

"That old bastard was– was kinkier than you could ever imagine," His voice stuttered as your fingers traced near his navel, studying the stitching on the waistcoats he wore.

"Oh yeah?" You snickered, loose enough with drinks to lose your impulse control chasing after whatever felt good in the moment. Mostly that had been cigarettes, but now it was the idea of kissing him, of feeling that mouth on you, anywhere.

"The mayor of Goodneighbor," You breathed, smoothing out his collar, "Keeping himself busy with five hundred year old porn."

Hancock laughed with you.

Outside, the two of you stumbled apart, leaning against the brick wall to share a cigarette, Nate and MacReady somehow still talking, even if Nate was shooting you curious glances and MacReady smirked every time your eyes passed over him.

Eventually, though, when a too loud sentence awoke a grumbling drifted who threatened to hurl a bottle at Nate, it was time to call it a night.

Nate clapped Hancock on the shoulder and kissed your cheek, which got him a punch on the arm, a bit harder than you meant to with the alcohol in your system. He took it like a champ, of course, calling out, "Have fun!" As he rounded the corner towards the Rexford.

MacReady vanished with a tip of his cap, leaving you with smoke in your mouth and the morning sun in your eyes.

"You want to take that tour now, doll?" The brush of a teasing hand over your lower back.

You thought about your dusty apartment, of waking up in a few hours to repeat the same shift for the millionth time. A cold bed, empty.

"Yeah," You breathed, hand catching on the fluttering sash around Hancock's waist, setting a firm pace and tugging him along with you like a dog on his leash. His hands found your hips before you even made it to the door, pinning you against the old wood to kiss you, deep and warm and wet. Your arms slid around his neck, pulling him closer, till you stood hip-to-hip, chest-to-chest.

Somehow, one of you got the door open, falling through the door, walking each other in an embrace towards the staircase. The kiss deepened, Hancock licked into your mouth as you bumped into the banister, struggled to keep your balance.You let him lead, pushing you backwards up the stairs, hands always gentle, ready to catch you if you tripped.

It was a drunken fumble, your shirt rucked up, trying to get all his stupid buttons unbuttoned as you staggered to the stairs, his lips suddenly attached to your neck.

His hands moved to your exposed waist as you reached the second floor, greedy hands moving over the expanse of skin. You huffed against his mouth, finding it unfair as you struggled to even get under his ridiculous fucking shirt, finally managing to sneak a hand under it, nails gently scratching against rough skin. You weren't exactly versed in Ghoul anatomy, but you'd heard enough complaining from drifters at the bar about the lack of feeling in their skin to know you'd have to push a little deeper, press a little harder. Sure enough, as Hancock lead you stumbling towards his bedroom, you pushed your hand up to his chest, pressing down into the meat of one of his shoulders, you received a deep groan against your mouth.

Then suddenly you were in the Mayor's bedroom. Clean enough, by the wasteland standards. Strewn with chems, as you'd anticipated, but the bed looked as clean as you could be.

Hancock had ended up behind you, hands sneaking around to your ass, your collar pushed to the side so he could kiss the exposed skin of your shoulder. It felt... nice. Soft. Softer than you'd anticipated from him. It sent an ache through you, not to your core, though electricity tingled, desperate for attention you hadn't provided it with in years. The ache was in your heart, extending out to your lungs, stealing your breath the way his kisses had, as he gently guided you towards the bed.

You spun around in his arms to capture his lips again, nipping at his bottom lips, hands moving to his waist, sneaking down into his waistband. The two of you danced around the room, lips locked, hands moving as clothes were unbuttoned, tossed to the side, shoes pulled off.

Then you were naked, falling onto a surprisingly plush mattress, as Hancock dropped his coat onto the back of his desk chair, pants unbuttoned and half falling off his skinny hips. He left the hat on, even as he stripped everything else off, and it made you huff a quiet, airy giggle. He grinned back at you, always happy to be happy, as he crawled on top of you, bracketing you between his legs.

His dick was the same as the rest of him, scarred and pocked, but you found you didn't mind in the slightest as your hands wandered downwards, teasingly gentle touches running over him, drawing out airy breaths and groans.

You were quick to guide him into you, pulling him down for a kiss when he entered you, sending shocks of burning pain through you, uncomfortable but manageable. Still, he noticed, unfocused eyes blinking down at you, a frown on his face.

"What's wrong?" "Nothing's wrong," You breathed, even through the tension of your muscles, "Just– uh– been a while. Gimme a moment."

He seemed unsure for a moment, looking as if he wanted to pull out, but you forced a calm through your muscles, slowly feeling him inch his way further inside, until the two of you were hip to hip. You breathed through the sting, shutting your eyes and guiding his face to your neck, happy when he got the hint and nipped at your skin. Your breath got shaky when he found a perfect spit by the junction of your neck and your shoulder, feeling his teeth sink into the flesh, soothed quickly with his tongue, with his spit-slick lips.

"Okay," You breathed eventually, one hand holding the back of his neck, the other clutching at the muscle on his back, "You can move."

"Are you–"

"Hancock," You said, voice firm. In a more sober state, his caution would touch you, but you were desperate to feel the drag of him, to feel his hips working. "I'm a big girl, it's okay. You can move."

He bent down to kiss you as he slowly pulled his hips back. With conscious effort to keep your muscles calm, your side of the kiss was a bit half hearted, but you gasped into his mouth as he pushed back in, the stretch not painful but, "So fucking perfect," You breathed, "Just like that."

Hancock was amazingly receptive, somehow cataloging every moan and twitch, and he had you pushed into the mattress within minutes, gasping and shaking beneath him. His hips drove into you at a perfect pace, his mouth moving to your tits, gentle bites at the soft skin, pulling your nipples into his mouth to flick at them with his tongue. Your whispered words of direction quickly dissolving into moans and gasps of his name.

Almost the exact second the thought of your clit popped into your head, his fingers were there, moving tight circles, pressure just the right side of too hard. You arched into him, a moan so loud it would have made you self conscious if you weren't too focused on driving him deeper, getting him closer, getting as much of his skin on you as you could.

Your orgasm approached with mounting tension in your muscled, strangled cries of more, harder, "Please, John."

You came with a strangled cry, every muscle in your body tensing and then going completely limp, gasps of air as your peak faded, replaced by a pleasant buzzing sensations. John's pace slowed as you shook, hands leaving your clit to grab at your hips, pull you towards him as he chased his own release. You were happy to let him, your hands exploring him leisurely, gripping at his biceps, his shoulders, wrapping around his neck to guide him into another kiss.

You could tell when he got close, the way his hips jerked, thrusts growing rushed and sloppy, desperate, the way his breath quickened, the way his dark eyes seemed to darken even further. At the last moment, he pulled out, wrapping his hand around his cock, haphazard pace the same as he fucked into his fist, a few more pumps and he came over your stomach. You tensed under the surprising heat of it, but relished the soft groan that escaped his mouth, head tilted back, mouth open,

He half collapsed on top of you, breathing against your mouth, only his arms holding him from falling into you. With every inhale, his expanding chest brushed against your breasts, every touch sending electric shots through you.

He collapsed beside you, still panting, one arm curling around your chest, just under your tits, pulling you into his side. "Just– give me a second, I'll get you something to clean up."

"Mmm," You breathed, relishing the heat of him, positive he was warmer than a normal person, the way it radiated off him, heating your skin at the contact points, "Don't worry about it. Deal with it in the morning." Your words were slurring, eyelids heavy.

"Mmm," Hancock agreed, tucking his face into your shoulder. He held you tight, like little kids held onto teddy bears. It was... nice. Unfamiliar to you, but, as you buried your head into the soft pillow, you supposed it was something you wouldn't mind getting used to.

You woke with a start, unfamiliar footsteps thudding above your head. It took a moment to reorient yourself, to recognize the walls you were blinking at, the hand tucked around your waist, the soft snores in your ear. Your head thudded, your mouth dry as a desert, tasting like cigarettes and whiskey.

"Shit," You whispered, slowly extracting yourself from Hancock's warm arms, getting to your feet. Stark naked. Your pants were slung over a chair, one sock still in the pant leg, the other tossed onto a desk, surrounded by several tins of mentats and empty jet canisters.

"Fuck," You breathed, hopping around trying to get your socks on. One of your boots was on its side, halfway under the bed. Your shirt was hanging on the fucking doorknob and you tugged it on, ignoring the stale smell of sweat and alcohol that clung to it from last night’s shift.

You swept the room, but couldn't for the life of you find your underwear. The thought of leaving them somewhere was mortifying, but when Hancock shifted in the bed, you decided not to risk staying. You pulled your boots on, leaving them unlaced as you crept over the ancient floorboards. Seeing as Hancock was managing to sleep through the ruckus of the drifters on the top floor, you doubted the creak of the house would wake him, but you were still extra cautious as you cracked the bedroom doors open, just enough for you to slip through and rush down the staircase, pointedly not looking at any of the Neighborhood Watch.

Out in the semi-fresh morning air, you took a deep breath, mumbling another curse to yourself as you began a quick jog home, trying to avoid any knowing glances as you rounded a corner and shouldered the door to your apartment building open.

Shower, underwear, find Nate, get him to ask Hancock for the caps while you cowered in the background with sunglasses and a baseball cap over a dark hoodie. Fuck.

The shower was cold, obviously, and you counted your blessings for having running water at all, even if it was a bit too irradiated for comfort. You did your best to scrub fast, hands brushing through sweaty, greasy hair, soaping the necessary areas. You very pointedly did not linger on the dried, flaking cum on your stomach, exorcizing it with a washcloth and curses.

You were busy drying your hair with your dirty shirt, because whenever the water lingered too long it left an uncomfortable sheen over your hair and smelled a bit like a bog. A knock sounded at the door, sending ice through your veins, a response equivalent to the roar of a Deathclaw or the clicking of a Mirelurk.

For a moment, you contemplated crawling onto the rusty fire-escape outside your living room window and walking into downtown Boston to let some Super Mutants eat you.

Instead, though, you stepped over to the door, moments quiet as you contemplated what the fuck you were going to say. Last night was a mistake. You're my boss. I haven't had sex in two years and I'm sorry for leading you on, can I please have my panties back?

Another knock startled you out of your thoughts, fast and panicked, followed by the call of your name from a voice that definitely did not belong to Hancock.

You opened the door to a panting Nate, already back in his suit and armor, gun tossed over his shoulder.

"Nate?"

"Hey! Have fun last night?"

You flushed, even though his expression was nothing but kind; curious and happy for you, like a good friend should be.

"Uh. What's with the get up?" You deflected, which Nate took in stride.

"Distress call from the Minutemen, they asked me to head out west to Graygarden."

"The... farm run by robots?"

"Oh, that's what it is?"

"Wh- Never mind. What are you doing there?"

"Something about the water supply and Super Mutants. I'm leaving in a few minutes"

"Okay, that's fine, I'll drag someone else with me to Diamond City, no stress."

"No, I want you to come with me."

You blinked, hand tensing on the door frame, "Nate I'm not a fighter."

"Yes you are," He said, looking so genuinely confused it made your heart seize a bit, "We fought together. At Anchorage. Did you forget?"

"No, I didn't–" You swallowed.

After returning home, witnessing massacre after massacre, you'd sworn to yourself you wouldn't get involved in that kind of shit. Even after the world ended, you'd managed to keep that promise. At night, alone in your cold bed, you could still hear the hissing of sentry bots, the creaking of power armor, the whistling of bullets. "I don't do that anymore, Nate."

Nate pulled one of his more serious faces, a rare sight for a man with seemingly endless drive and relentless optimism, even after losing more than you could imagine.

"Look. I understand what you're feeling–" You took a breath to interrupt him, because his blind patriotism had driven him forward when you'd lagged behind, weighed down by the blood on your hands. Nate pushed forward, "I know you don't believe me, but I really do. And nothing helped me heal those wounds like helping people."

"Helping robots." Your voice was flat.

"Who provide food for over a dozen settlements. You'd be doing good."

You bit your lip, casting your eyes over your apartment to avoid the earnest look in Nate's eyes. Sure, you were... content in your life. Goodneighbor was as safe as any settlement could be, you had steady income, some sort of purpose. But you remembered the day Nate had walked into the Third Rail with Nick Valentine on his heels, bleary eyed, vault suit still pristine. The way your heart had sung, the way an aching loneliness you'd felt since coming off the ice had faded.

Was this what the rest of your life would be? Slinging drinks, small talk with coworkers and bar patrons, waiting for the next time Nate would walk in through the doors like some yearning wife waiting for her husband to return from war?

Besides, you weren't going to be able from Hancock in his own fucking town, not for long.

You shut your eyes, feeling the phantom weight of a gun in your hands.

"Fuck. Fine."

The smile on Nate's face was like a kid's at Christmas.

"Great! I'll meet you at the front entrance in..." He glanced down at his pip-boy, "Thirty minutes?"

"Okay."

And he was off, leaving you standing in your doorway, blinking at nothing wondering what the fuck you'd agreed to.

Under your bed there were some loose floorboards you'd been using to store the important things. Your spare caps, your vault suit and pip-boy, your 10mm pistol and your combat shotgun. The former was familiar to you, used centuries ago in a war no one understood anymore. You'd grabbed it on your stumbling way out of the vault, and it was a good thing to or you would have gotten gored by some very territorial mole rats before even making it to a settlement. The shotgun had been stolen, in your trek to downtown Boston, taken off a raider you'd knocked out with a lead pipe. He'd clearly made some adjustments to it, with a hair trigger, less recoil than expected and a scope you'd never needed to use. You'd been meaning to sell it since you'd gotten in, but it had ended up in the floorboards where you'd simply hoped it would stay unless you were strapped for cash.

A knapsack was quickly filled with everything you needed, a change of clothes, a portable water purifier, all the food that would go to waste if you didn't take it with you. You tucked some spare caps into a hidden inside pocket, wrapping them in cloth to keep them from rattling. Your spare 10mm ammo, a few packs of cigarettes, a lighter, a flashlight.

The pistol was strapped into a thigh holster, a gun belt held your shotgun rounds. The shotgun went around your shoulder. They felt heavier than you remembered them being, their weight an oppressive reminder with every step you took out of your apartment. You'd need to let Charlie know you wouldn't be in for a while, and you'd need to stop by KL-E-0's for some spare parts. Easy enough, it was just the matter of avoiding certain tricorn-hat wearing mayors.

You kept your head down as you made your way through the street. You cut a more imposing figure with your armor, with the glint of weapons. People moved out of your way as you jogged towards the Third Rail, sliding in through the door like a mouse darting into its burrow.

You rattled like a tin can chime as you walked down the steps to the bar, announcing your approach before you could be seen, a cat with a bell. You were skittish, pausing at the last step to peek into the lounge, trying to spot a red coat, a familiar smile. Coast was clear.

"That the new uniform, then?" Charlie's voice nearly sent you flying, a squeak leaving you as the Mr. Handy suddenly appeared in view. The three eyes didn't exactly convey emotion well, but you could hear the dry amusement in his tone, maybe a hint of judgement.

"No, I uh–" You shook yourself, loosening the cotton in your brain, "Nate asked me to accompany him on a mission. Shouldn't take more than a week."

"Seven days and I'll file a missing person's report." Dry, dry, dry.

"Right," You breathed, gripping the banister like a life line, "Right. I appreciate the uh– The thought, Charlie. I'll see you around." Saliva filled your mouth, and you had a second to panic about throwing up on the floor as your stomach rolled, before the feeling faded.

Charlie didn't dignify you with a response, going right back to... whatever it was he did when the bar was closed, so you turned around, rattling right back up the stairs. First vacation in two years.

Again, you kept your head down as you walked through the alley towards Kill or Be Killed, pointedly avoiding letting your gaze slip to the Old State House, like the building itself would summon him. Something burned in your chest, not quite shame, but the next thing to it. In another life, you would've considered chewing on a baby aspirin, kept the landline in view, ready to dial 911, if you were having a heart attack. Now, though, you shrugged it off, grabbing your canteen and taking a greedy drink, washing away the cigarette taste that still lingered in your mouth.

KL-E-0 was in her usual place, piercing red eye landing on you.

"Well, don't you look dressed to kill."

You'd wondered, sometimes, if she had been especially programmed to sound so sultry, or if it was just her natural charm.

"Heading out for a while," You dug your bag of caps out of your pocket, placing it on the table as your eyes roamed over the wares available, "Think you could spare some grenades and shotgun shells?"

"Let's get you outfitted, killer."

The word left a sour taste in your mouth that had nothing to do with the cigarettes. You made it through the trade quickly, enough ammo to last you several encounters, enough grenades to get you through a couple rough spots. You left with your pockets lighter, your bandolier, pack and shoulders weighed down.

"Have fun, baby."

"Yeah, thanks, Kleo."

Nate was standing by the entrance, a respectable distance from the Neighborhood Watch, a focused frown on his face as he fiddled with his Pip-boy. He looked up when you approached, frown turning to a bright smile.

"So," you said, shouldering your gun, "Ready to head off?"

"Not quite, we're still waiting on the rest of the party. You know how he is, always fashionably late."

You didn't manage to get out your confused "Who?" Before a familiar hand was clapping Nate on the shoulder, saying, "So! Ready to get this show on the road?"

Fuck.

Notes: This is so insanely self indulgent it’s crazy, but I do hope you enjoyed at least a little <3

#fallout companions #hancock #hancock fo4 #hancock x reader #hancock x you #john hancock #john hancock x reader #fallout hancock #fo4 hancock #male sole survivor #john hancock x you #fo4 companions #fallout 4 companions #fallout imagines

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metalchem · 2 months ago

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nate x nick x hancock is where it’s at you just have to trust me

#nate lost a wife and gained two boyfriends #sole survivor #nate fallout 4 #john hancock #nick valentine #fallout 4 #fallout #valencock #nate/nick valentine #nate/hancock #nate/john hancock #nate/nick valentine/hancock

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ghoul-foolery · 2 months ago

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Flufftober, Day 27

Overstimulation / Soulmate AU

Prompt List - Kink/Flufftober Master List

> Soulmate AU > Nate/Nora/Hancock >Tags: MDNI, Soulmate bullshit, Dirty Windows universe, abrupt ending > Words: 1920

Notes: One of these days I’m just going to do a whole soulmate month because I had too many ideas I wanted to play with. This is Dirty Windows +Nate, because I still need more Nate/Nora/Hancock.

Nate’s hands were covered in Nora’s blood and panic was coming at him from all directions. It was his, and it was Nora’s, and it was someone else’s. It was overwhelming, and it was acrid. It mixed with the smell of pennies, and death and it took everything he had not to succumb to the urge to drop to his knees and puke. Then came Nora’s pain, electric like a livewire and absolutely breathtaking in its ferocity – Nora had been shot, she was bleeding, and Nate had been absolutely helpless to help– but he could help now, if only he could focus.

The first wave of Nora’s raging panic came crashing into Nate with breath-taking force, but somewhere between the armored guy glaring in through the viewing portal of Nate’s so-called sanitation pod, and vanishing before his very eyes, the ferocity behind Nora’s feelings waned. So did her energy. One second she was gripping her side, eyes bulging as she screamed for help, and the next her whole body was sagging, and her eyes were fluttering, “Nate? Nate please…” Her usual husky voice sounded rusty, and weak.

Then there was the new presence in his heart, and head. Not there one moment, but there the next. The presence was loud, and demanding. Confusion and alarm rushed to greet him like an over eager pet, as a new voice filtered through his consciousness. It mixed with Nora’s pleas, and his own rampant thoughts. “Who the fuck is Nate? What is – oh god, yer hurt. Hey. Hey you need to help her–” The man’s gravelly voice was lost one moment, but so sweetly desperate the next.

Visions filtered to him, coming from perspectives that weren’t his. The images overlapped with one another – Nora’s bloodied, drooping figure, his hands pressed against the oozing wound– his own panic-stricken face – gnarled, ringed fingers and dirty hardwood floor– Nate’s own voice mixed with theirs in a cacophony of sound. Nora’s whimpered apologies, the man’s increasing demand for Nate to help. It felt like he was shouting in an overcrowded bar and not just telling his wife that she needed to apply pressure to the wound so he could go look for a stimpack.

Focus. Breathe–

“I’m so sorry, Nate. I lost him–”

“Fucking do something, man! Look at her!”

He closed his eyes tight and blocked it all out-

The phantom pain in Nate’s side ebbed and then vanished all together. Nora’s waning presence did, too. Reaching out to this new entity was as easy as breathing, but it still felt fresh and new. A second soulmate. To have one was a gift. To have two was a rarity. And to have this person enter into their bond now, after years of it already existing, was a rarity if not an impossibility.

But it was something to be considered when his wife’s life wasn’t on the line.

“Hey, I–” they didn’t have time for formalities, but he found himself asking. “What’s your name?”

“Brother, are you not fucking hearing me? She’s losing blood–”

Asshole. Like he didn’t know. The blood was seeping through his fingers. It was oozing down his wrist and staining the cuffs of his vault suit. “What is your fucking name?”

“Hancock.”

“Hancock, I need you to calm down and stay with her. I’m going to go look for a stimpack.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

Nate guided Nora’s hand up to the bullet hole, she whimpered as he pressed her hand into place. He murmured, “I know, honey, I’m so sorry…” then to Hancock he said, “Keep her talking, keep her focused. Tell her to keep pressure against the wound until I get back. Can you do that?”

The ire in the man’s voice ebbed, giving way to uncertainty as he said, “How do I… I don’t…”

“Her name is Nora. She’s our soulmate, and I need your help to save her. I’m just asking that you try…”

The Pip-Boy’s geiger counter started to tick-tick-tick the moment Nora neared the edge of the stream. It seemed like just yesterday when the neighborhood kids were racing to the same spot after school to try their hand at fishing, and now it was irradiated – and their only consistent source of water. This whole post-bombing thing was heartbreaking. Everything had changed in a blink of an eye, and Nora was still doing her best to figure out how to properly cope with it all. Adapt or die had never been something she had had to consider. Not to this degree.

And yet there she was. Adapting. Or, at least, trying to. Trudging into post-apocalyptic Boston with a heart full of guilt, and moderate to severe blood loss hadn’t exactly set her up for success. Thank god for Nate – and Hancock.

Their new soulmate was an invaluable wealth of knowledge, and he was always so willing to help. He even helped her convince Nate to let her out of the house after a week of being cooped up inside under his and Codsworth’s constant care. She needed a bath, and she needed clean clothes, and Hancock was able to help convince Nate to let her have both but only after Nate found some Rad-X for the two of them.

Nate was already in the water, stripped down to his briefs and holding his hand out to her as she made her approach. The Pip-Boy kept ticking even as she removed it from her wrist.

“Be careful.”

“Nate, please–” A week of ‘be careful’ was enough to last her an entire lifetime.

“The rocks are slippery.”

Slipping her hand into Nate’s, Nora stepped down into the water. It was so cold it almost hurt, and yet it was everything she had been asking for.

“I’m fine. I promise.” Her bare foot settled down onto a rock, the smooth curve of the stone settling right against the arch of her foot. When she shifted her weight, she immediately slid. Not far, and not fast, but just enough for her body to jolt and twist to catch her balance.

Pain shot through the sewed up bullet wound like lightning.

She was mostly fine. “Ya know what, I think I’ll sit down and wash clothes first. Go ahead and get cleaned up.”

Nate grumbled a low, “Mmhm.” like he knew it hurt, and he probably did, but he said nothing else. He instead waded further into the water. Right when it got to his thighs he bent forward and dunked his head into the water to start scrubbing at his hair and scalp.

“Fucking Christ, look at him…” Hancock’s voice drifted through the quiet of her thoughts, rasping and gentle.

Nora did. Nate was tall. Six-feet and then some, but he wasn’t just tall he was broad, and he was strong. Dark hair, dark eyes, and a stunning smile. And he was capable. So capable. He hadn’t stopped moving since they left the vault, always foraging, always securing their home.

“Goddamn, he’s got a great ass don’t he?”

Nora clamped her lips together to keep from smiling, but she didn’t look away. If anything, she allowed her eyes to drift over her husband’s backside, over the shifting muscles in his back as he straightened and carded his hands through his hair. Water spilled over his skin in rivulets down to his waist.

“Hey, Nate?”

Nate turned to face her – the water from his hair spilled down his neck, through his chest hair, down, down, down…

“Yeah? Are you okay?”

A flood of amusement surged through her bond with Hancock as he practically purred, “Thanks for sharing, doll.”

“It’s nothing. Nevermind,” Nora said easily as she submerged her bloody vault suit into the water.

Seven days. Hancock had known about his soulmates for seven whole days, and they damn near consumed his every waking thought with worry.

Nate was a go-getter. He wasn’t the sort to want to sit idly when there were things that needed doing – and there was plenty that needed doing. He needed to hunt, he needed to forage, he needed to fortify his home, he needed to take care of his wife, and he needed to find his kid. Nate wouldn’t just sit the fuck down and breathe, and because of that Hancock was almost constantly checking in on him to make sure he didn’t get in over his head. The guy at least took it to heart when Hancock warned him that he needed guns and ammo before venturing too terribly far from home.

Then there was Nora. While he couldn’t help but be attached to both of his soulmates, he was already terribly sweet on Nora. Maybe it was because he’d damned near lost her the moment they met. Maybe it was because she had warbled about how she would have loved to get to know him, should she be given the chance - like knowing him would be some kind of goddamn gift. Poor Nora had been bedridden, but going stir crazy. She was riddled with guilt, and forced to just sit with it all as she recovered from near death.

Hancock spent his time going back and forth between the two, checking in on Nate to give him some Commonwealth advice, checking on Nora to make sure the stillness didn’t become too much. He’d gotten awfully proficient drifting between the two, or addressing them both. Slipping into the bonds that tied them all together, identifying who belonged to what emotions, got easier and easier. Especially with their guidance.

Which was to say the moment that Nate started to wade through the water towards Nora, Hancock shifted. One moment he was watching Nate approach him (as Nora), and then the next moment he was watching himself (as Nate) approach Nora. Hancock liked drifting between the two perspectives. Seeing the way they looked at eachother gave him hope that one day, given a little time, they might look at him that way too.

In the meantime, he liked to throw a little harmless flirting their way; like commenting on Nate’s (perfect) ass, and telling Nate, “Look how happy she is just getting out of that fuckin’ house for a bit. And look at that blush – your girl is a stunner, Nate. Shit.”

She was down to a t-shirt that she had more or less been wearing since they left the vault. It was dotted with blood around the site of her stitches, but was mostly clean if not feeling a little grimy with wear. And she was beautiful, her feet in the stream, her hair tied into a messy knot on the top of her head as she scrubbed at the bloodied blue suit. She was a little tired, a little messy, but she was so incredibly authentic. Fucking stunning.

When Nate got close enough to Nora, damn near toe-to-toe with her, Nora canted her head back to look up at them.

“Why are you blushing?” Nate grumbled, his voice playfully accusatory.

“No reason,” Nora said, but the corners of her mouth tilted upward.

“She’s lying Nate. Don’t you believe her for a second.”

“Hancock says you’re lying.”

Nora’s smile was big, beautiful and brilliant. She looked like she had more life in her than she had in days as she said, “Hancock, you traitor.”

Most days Goodneighbor was it for him. It was home. He had the bar, he had the Old Statehouse. He had Fahrenheit, and Whitechapel, and Daisy – but he knew in his heart he’d give it all away just to be at the stream with them. He couldn’t wait until they were ready to meet.

#human x ghoul #fallout 4 #fallout #hancock #fallout fanfiction #fallout hancock #fanfiction #soulmate au #Nate x Nora x Hancock #2024 Kinktober #2024 Flufftober #Soulmate bullshit choo choo

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chadfallout76podcast · 5 months ago

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what made you put nora x danse together in death shroud? i was surprised considering nora x hancock shippers seem to be the loudest/most popular ship in the fandom!

That's a great question with a complex answer. Sometimes writers write from instinct without a lot of thought in the moment. At least for me anyway, it's very stream of consciousness and I let the great whatever kind of guide me, in the moment not really thinking too much...just mentally playing out scenes in my head, letting the characters interact and then I transcribe what's in my head to the page. I had to think about your answer and why I put them together.

I know people LOVE a Nora/Hancock ship, but I looked at it through the lens of grief and loss. When you lose the love of your life, a part of you dies with them. Imagine a perfect morning, your husband, your child shattered in just minutes. MINUTES. In minutes everything you've ever known is gone. Then seemingly minutes later you watch them killed. An empty death. A pointless death, seemingly without reason or justification. And then, boom...you are thrust out into a harsh, unforgiving, broken world mirroring the shattered part of your soul. People bend, but they rarely break and even when they do, the road you take may grow dark, but at the end of it even in the deepest part of you, the heart YEARNS for what it lost. Nate went to war because he felt a deep sense of duty to his country and to his family, however misplaced this may be in the grand schemes of suits, politicians and madmen. Soldiers always pay the price for their kindness, willing to make the ultimate sacrifice and represent the last true measure of devotion and faith in an idea. I think Nora would've loved that about him.

Danse, while completely different, is a blurry shadow of Nate. The dedicated soldier, whose ideals and life were built around the idea of what the Brotherhood should be (perhaps not what it was under Maxson). I would argue that many of Danse's actions fly in the face of how Maxson would do things, and yet he clearly skated reprimand as the ends always were satisfactory. There is a nobility in that fact, as Danse isn't motivated by power, making many of his decision altruistic to a degree. His arc however SIMILARLY to Nora leads to a cataclysmic loss of everything he's ever known. His entire identity, his "family", his entire life shattered in minutes. Danse is a widower to the person he was, Paladin Danse DIED that day. Danse is who survived.

Sometimes soulful love is born from a shared journey in healing. For Nora, Danse is a reminder of the man she lost...never, ever to be replaced or forgotten but honored. There is so, so much of who Danse is that is a shadowed remind of what she fell in love with in Nate, enough to be comfortably familiar while also different. For Danse, Nora is the suture of a wound as deep as the soul, not born into, but made...not created by Man with 1's and 0's, but through choices and actions that represent the truth of sentience. They very much needed each other. Healing journeys can create friction. People are complex. Guilt, doubt, regret, fear of being wounded again all can push people away from each other. And yet, in due course, the heart wants what the heart wants. Nora and Danse found their way back to each other, and for me, would've remained following the events of Death Shroud.

Although for more on what happens next...you'll need to wait a little bit. ;)

#death shroud #chad: a fallout 76 podcast #chad: a fallout 76 story #fallout 4 #fallout fanfic

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wassertoffatom · 3 months ago

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Hiii I’m loving your little story’s amazing!

16 with our boy Maccready?

Maybe (RJ MacCready x F!Sole)

Main Master List || Prompt Master List

Author's Note: I'm really sorry about this one. My brain connected to my fingers and took it away from me. BUT THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!!!

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, HEAVY HEAVY MENTIONS OF SUICIDE ATTEMPT, can't stress that enough, it got a tiny bit dark, language, alcohol usage

Word Count: 1.5k

==========

The Commonwealth is awake tonight, brimming with relief and happiness. Everyone heard the loud explosion that rattled what was left of Boston. The dust had settled hours ago, coating the Boston Commons in a thin layer of radioactive fallout. You’re not sure where your team went, but if you had to guess, they’re out celebrating. You should be celebrating with them, but how can you when you have just killed your only son?

So you sit alone, nursing a bottle of aged whiskey as you stare out into the city, contemplating your life these past eight months. Maybe Shaun had a point, you think to yourself, taking a swig of liquid. Maybe the Commonwealth is beyond helping. The thought causes you to freeze. How can you think like that? Despite 70% of the inhabitants trying to kill you, there are still some decent people. Thoughts like that are what formed the Institute. Maybe Shaun did get his messed up ideologies from you.

Shrugging your shoulders, you take another chug from your bottle, eyes peering out from the edge of MassFusion. Struggling to get up, you stagger to the edge, leaning your top half over, gauging the height. If you jumped, death would be guaranteed.

Tears prickle your eyes as you unlatch your pip boy, setting it to the side before stepping onto the edge, body swaying in drunken stupor. Would anyone miss you? What use to them are you now that the Institute is destroyed? Maybe MacCready will miss you, but even then, he got what he wanted. He got his son back. He won’t miss you. He has his son, everyone has someone, and you don’t. Maybe it would be best to join Shaun and Nate in the grave. “I’m sorry, Robert.”

Your leg slips off the edge, closing your eyes, expecting to meet air, but instead your body is thrown to the ground. Either that was a really fast fall or you’re dead. “What the actual hell are you doing?” That’s not Nate’s voice. That’s MacCready’s. Why am I hearing his voice? Is this what the afterlife is like? A pair of arms shake your body vigorously, causing your eyes to open, meeting a pair of very blue, but very angry eyes. “What the heck is your problem?” He drags your body away from the edge toward the center of the roof.

“Mac? Am I dead?” You try to sit up but he places his body on top of yours, his hands holding your arms to your side.

“Is that what you’re doing? Were you trying to kill yourself?” His voice is strained, trying to hold back his emotion. “Why the fu-frick would you do that?”

You try again to sit up, but he doesn’t budge. In normal circumstances, you would blush with him on top of you, maybe tease him. Now is not that time. Knowing that he caught you, you let out a sigh of defeat. “Yeah, RJ. I was.”

Tears well in his eyes. Why would you do that to him? It’s bad enough Lucy is dead, he does not want another person he cares about dead. And no one would’ve known. “Why?”

Looking away from his heartbroken face, tears spill down your cheeks. “I don’t belong here, Mac. I don’t belong in this world.”

“So what? You’re just going to jump? Not tell anyone? Let some raider find your dead body? What if Piper had found your body? Hancock? Nick? Deacon?”

“Mac.”

“What if I had found your body? Do you have any idea what that would have done to me? How could you even think about doing something so… so stupid?!”

“There’s nothing for me here!” You yell out into the night, giving up trying to get out of his grasp. “My husband is dead! My son is DEAD! And I’m all alone,” you sob from underneath him as he looks away, wiping his tears. “I mean, Piper has her sister. Nick has Ellie. Hancock has Fahrenheit. You have Duncan. I have no one.”

MacCready slips off of you, instead pulling you onto his lap and holding you close to his body, terrified that you would try to jump again. One of his hands reaches up to stroke your hair in a vain attempt to sooth you. Looking up into the night sky, MacCready wishes to whoever is out there that they provide him with the words that he wants to say, but has always been scared to. A bright twinkle in the sky catches his eyes and he takes that as a sign. “You have me,” he pauses as your sobs begin to subside, now replaced with sniffles. “I love you, dammit. You’re the most incredible, strong, courageous, beautiful woman I know. You literally walked out of a vault, in a new world, and bared it to find your son. Not a lot of people would have done that. They would’ve given up, seen it as a lost cause, but not you. And even when we weren’t trying to find your son, you still helped people in ways that no one would have done.” You fall silent as he looks straight at you. “Even when given the choice between your son and the rest of the city, you chose the city. You’ve done so much for everyone. You’ve done so much for me. You saved me, from myself. I don’t know what I would do if I hadn’t seen you the second that I did.”

“How did you even see me? I thought everyone would be out celebrating?” MacCready chuckles, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear, using his thumb to wipe your cheek.

“I never left. I decided to just stay in the shadows. I knew you needed space and I didn’t want to be a bother, so I just hung around in the shadows. It’s a damn good thing that I did. I didn’t know what you were going to do, but my gut was telling me you were about to do something stupid, so I stepped in.” Both of you fall silent, embarrassment blooming under your cheeks at the thought of actually going through with it right in front of him while he comes down from the adrenaline rush of running over to you and grabbing onto you at the last second before throwing you onto the ground. He didn’t mean to throw you, but if it was throwing you two feet onto the roof or watching you fall 14 stories, he would throw you over and over until he couldn’t no more.

Reaching back to scratch at the nape of his neck, he averts his eyes to the edge where he had almost lost you before turning his attention back to you. “Look, (Y/N). I know you think that you don’t have anyone here, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m sure that the entire decent half of the Commonwealth would rally behind you if you gave the word. And I know I’m not a lot, but you have me at the very least. You will always have me.”

His words peel at your heart. You’ve always had a soft spot for the mercenary, and fell completely in love with him when he told you his story. And now, hearing him pour out his heart again, this time for you, has you reconsidering your plight. “RJ. You are more than enough.” You surge forward, your lips pressing into his like he’s your lifeline.

It takes him only a second to realize what is happening, but as he realizes, he’s immediately kissing back, holding you impossibly close, mentally cursing the clothes between the two of you. Not that he’s thinking of sex right now, because he’s definitely not, but he craves the physical intimacy that this moment requires. Pulling away with slight regret, he presses his forehead against, sharp lines of his nose nudging yours in a loving manner. “Please, reconsider. Stay here, alive, with your friends. With me. Stay with me.”

“But what about Duncan?”

“What about him? (Y/N), you and him are the most important people in my life. I would do anything for either of you. Please, stay with me and Duncan. I need you.”

Nodding your head, you wipe the snot from your nose with the back of your hand, trying to make yourself presentable knowing it’s a moot point. “Ok.”

“Okay!” He giggles softly, pulling you back into him, cradling your head as he presses a kiss to your temple. “You’re going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.”

“RJ?”

“Hmm?”

“If I did do it. Would you come to my funeral?”

“I’d bury you next to Nate and Lucy. I mean it. I would do anything for you.”

#maccready x reader #maccready x sole survivor #rj maccready x reader #robert maccready x sole survivor #rj maccready x sole survivor #fallout 4 maccready #fallout 4 #fallout #fallout companions #rj maccready #fo4 #robert joseph maccready #robert maccready #maccready #robert maccready x reader #female sole survivor #sole survivor

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ghoulfuckersincorporated · 5 months ago

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So….anymore Hancock hc’s? NSFW or otherwise, ya girl is starved for Hancock content 🤤

Btw I adore your content and you’re a phenomenal writer!!! Thank you for teaching me things about myself that I wasn’t ready to learn 🤣🤣

John Hancock (Fallout 4) NSFW Headcanons 2

Doesn't this man seem like the type to have a cock piercing? Rhetorical question; you cannot convince me he doesn't. I'm picturing a frenum piercing, right at the base of the glans on the underside. You also cannot convince me he isn't an expert at using the thing to the point where it's a little scary. He'd really enjoy using it to tease you before he fucks you.

We all know he's into knife play (and if it hasn't occurred to you that he would obviously be into knife play, I urge you to watch the idle animation where he plays with his knife a few dozen times...it'll sink in), and I like to think it's quite the rainbow of knife play. He's willing to do quite a few things with it, from slicing your clothes off to threatening you with it. I think he'd even be willing to use it on you just a little if you ask nicely enough. Wouldn't be willing to cut you any worse than a mild cat scratch, however. What he would be willing to do, though, is fuck you with the handle.

He likes music a lot, likes to scrounge up old world stuff especially, so he's no stranger to a good "sex soundtrack". Big fan of having some music playing to help set the mood. When he gets serious about someone, he gets serious about seducing them, really trying his best to set the scene (outside of all the quickies, you know).

I said in my previous Hancock headcanons that he doesn't like to fuck when he's too fucked up, and I stand by that, but I also stand by the statement that he would greatly enjoy a small amount of shared intoxication with his partner before, during, or after sex. Do a shot or two together before you get cozy for the evening? He's down. Take a break between rounds to split a beer? Loves it. Share a joint after a good fuck? Say less.

Has a pretty serious praise kink he's not necessarily consciously aware of. He's a man of many, many regrets and insecurities, and genuine praise from someone he loves and trusts is a balm on his soul that also acts as nuclear fuel for his sex drive. Tell him how good he's making you feel, how special he is to you, how much you love him, and he'll be putty in your hands. Also not a stranger to handing out praise, especially as he gets closer and closer to finishing.

#hancock fo4 #hancock fallout 4 #john hancock fo4 #john hancock #john mcdonough #fo4 #mayor hancock #john hancock headcanons #hancock x nora #hancock x nate #submission

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dramaticpandabear · 8 months ago

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I have never written fan fiction before, but I got so inspired by this song that I just had to write something. So, this is my first one and I hope you enjoy. Please let me know what you think! It’s Hancock x f!sole survivor.

God Only Knows

“You’re still messing with that thing?” said Hancock, watching with amusement as his vault-dwelling companion kept turning the dials on a beat-up radio. They were holed up in an abandoned, yet cozy, Red Rocket in front of Sanctuary Hills. The vault-dweller insisted on going to her “little hideaway” before Preston could bombard her with another settlement that needed helping.

And so, the two of them sat with a reprieve they seldom ever get, relishing it before they have to get going once more. The machine in her hands switched from a chorus of static to classical music to Travis’ stuttering and back to static once again.

“I swear it exists,” exclaimed his companion. “I heard it playing when I found an abandoned cabin not too far from Sanctuary. Apparently it’s called the “Old Gold” radio, and it plays music from before the war. Reminds me of when Nate and I--” She paused.

Opting to distract herself than deal with her grief, she directed her attention to the radio in front of her, turning the dials every which way hoping to find the elusive station. Every day she spent around Hancock it became easier to let those memories slip, but even she couldn’t bring herself to finish that sentence. Perhaps someday, but not today.

She could feel the ghoul’s eyes on her. The more they travel together, the better he gets at reading her every thought. Nevertheless, he decided not to push it as they fell into a comfortable silence.

Suddenly, the eclectic sound of an accordion mixed with a hypnotic beat starts blaring through the radio’s speakers. Hancock jolted for a moment -- he’s only ever heard Magnolia’s songs and the music Travis was able to salvage for his radio. But this, this was something else entirely.

“Finally! See, I told you it was real,” she exclaimed as he turned towards her. He saw her misty eyes, squinting nostalgically as though she could see the actual sound waves projecting from the radio in her hands. The sound of sweet, dulcet voices filled the air as they sang:

I may not always love you, but long as there stars above you…

Hancock took in a breath, and was about to ask, when she beat him to it. “It’s the Beach Boys,” she said in a daze, mesmerized as though she couldn’t believe she was hearing a song from before the world burned before her.

…You never need to doubt it, I’ll make you so sure about it…

“God, I haven’t heard this song in years!” he smirked but just before he could make a quip, she hit his shoulder playfully. Although he could read her thoughts pretty well, she easily did the same for him.

“Don’t you start with that crap. I may be 210 years old, but at least I don’t have any wrinkles, unlike some people,” she started as she shot a mischievous look his way.

“You’re right on that one Sunshine,” he replied with a raspy laugh on his lips. “I guess being frozen for all that time works wonders on the skin.”

“Oh absolutely, dermatologists hate me,” she quipped as he lightly chuckled despite not knowing what the fuck a dermatologist is. Turning back to listen to the music before her, she steeled herself with a deep sigh. “Last time I heard this was the night before Nate was deployed to Alaska. He asked me if I could dance with him.”

As she spoke, Hancock looked at her -- really looked at her. Somehow the sun shined just right as it hit her chestnut hair, casting a golden glow as she faced the radio. Although her eyes dulled with melancholy as she reminisced, he still caught the way her body swayed ever so slightly to the music, almost as if she were living inside that memory.

For a while now, they’ve been dancing around each other, both knowing they were beyond friendship at this point. Hancock knew she missed her husband dearly, but she expressed long ago that she’s ready to move on. And yet, neither of them has made the first move towards something more.

As the song entered into a (from what he considered) quirky instrumental section, Hancock figured that it was either now or never. He stood from the couch and approached her with his hand extended.

“I don’t come close to the man he was, but, if you don’t mind this ghoul before you,” and the way his black eyes gazed so tenderly into hers almost made her heart burst, rendering her speechless. “May I have this dance?”

Blinking up at him, all she could do was nod as she placed her hand in his. They began to lightly sway, coming closer as instruments were joined by carefree voices. As the music swelled, Hancock twirled her around as more words surrounded them.

…God only knows what I’d be without you. If you should ever leave me…

He spun her around so that her back was pressed against his as they continued to sway. He listened closely to these words as he looked down at her pensively. Her eyes were closed, basked in that gorgeous glow of sunlight. She looked like pure sunshine -- his sunshine.

…The world could show nothing to me, so what good would living do me…

This enchanting song was echoing the words he held deep in his heart. Words he wished he could say to her, but never felt he could. After all, who would want to spend their lives loving a ghoul such as him?

And yet, here she was -- his sunshine nestled warmly in his arms. Dancing in this abandoned Red Rocket as though it were a slice of Heaven on Earth and that the Commonwealth’s troubles didn’t exist. Hancock never thought he deserved such bliss, and as he spun her to face him, her soft voice nearly swept him off his feet as he heard her singing along with the music:

…God only knows what I’d be without you…

Hancock basked in the sight before him. Her lidded eyes were peering right into his, and he could feel her light breath as she whispered those words. Now, he’s never sang in his life, but something about this moment gave him the confidence he needed to sing these lyrics that echoed the words in his heart. As the song slowed, he gave the main melody a try with a raspy voice that was slightly off-key. But every word echoed his sincere feelings for her, pure and utter devotion poured out for her. And it was music to her ears.

…God only knows what I’d be without you.”

The chorus of voices repeated these words, blurring together as the music surrounded them in a haze. Hancock slowly inched his face closer to hers until they finally met in the middle. Never did he taste such a kiss so sweet that it made Sugar Bombs sour by comparison.

As they embraced the music continued to swell around them as if it was the sound of their own hearts singing to each other. Hancock wasn’t even sure if he deserved her, but in his mind he was silently thanking these so-called “Beach Boys” for giving him the chance to finally have her in his arms. Their kiss grew deeper as he felt an ecstasy that no chem could come close to achieving.

Even as the song made its eventual end, the pair made no effort to stop as the radio played another melody. Who knew they could ever reach perfection in the middle of a wasteland?

#fallout 4 #fallout #hancock fo4 #hancock x sole survivor #hancock x reader #fo4 #fo4 fanfic #fallout fanfic

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