#fallout: nv fanfic

[radroachmeat]

[thebutterflyofthemojave]

Diana and her Big Dada HC

(moodboard made by me)

Ghost in the Fallout AU with baby Diana. The stress about to stay away for weeks, the return at home where Laswell and her wife takes care of her after the death of his wife after the birth(its the wasteland unfortunately).

She is the only thing good in that world of death and pain, I imagine her first word “Dada”. Because she loves her big Dada so much.

When she says the first word he was returned after a request to assassinate some Gunners in a nearby factory, all covered in blood and sand, him tired, and sees his daughter of one year who tries to walk helped by Kate's wife and who keeps saying "Dada”

His eyes full of tears, the constant feeling of guilt in having to raise his little tangerine in such a world that are dissipated in that sweet "Dada" while he promised himself "to protect you little tangerine from this disgusting world”

[coldgardengentlemen]

I am BEGGING ya'll fanfic writers on my HANDS AND KNEES please please please please write more mr house fanfics. There are ELEVEN fanfics of him on ao3 and I have read them ALL even the really weird ones that I didn't really want to read I am desperate please please pleasepleasepleaseplease

[acroagoraphobe]

Writting request: Joshua helping the Courier fall asleep while they are sick :)

OOoooo

i like this one (Courier and Joshua content my beloved)

"Courier, you must rest. You will need to so you may recover."

Joshua stated more factually than as if he actually cared to the sick Courier 6. He was busy working on his many guns that he had and didn't even glance at the courier as he said this. But he knew they were awake, he assumed they were just being their usual defiant self.

But after a small amount of time, Joshua had a little bit of concern tug at his heart for the unfortunate Courier. He could tell they were having trouble sleeping due to their generally feeling terrible from illness. So The Burned Man set his weapons down for a moment and looked over at the courier, their eyes droopy and tired, but he knew they were having difficulty with sleeping. And words alone can't fix that.

He sat down next to them and tried his best to be a comforting prescence to help them sleep. The Courier mumbled some inaudible words and turned to him.

"I can't sleep..." The Courier mumbled, exhausted.

"I am aware. That is why I'm sitting next to you. I hope it would help with that at least somewhat."

The Courier smiled at Joshua, and that smile felt like it crept it's way into his very soul. That was a smile of someone who appreciated his company. Something that Joshua sees ever so rarely.

"You would not have to be struggling now, if you were not out in the rain all day."

Joshua said in his lecture voice, yes there is a difference. (A very tiny difference from his normal tone.) But still, the Courier knew all too well, since they had been lectured many a time by Joshua.

"I know... You told me this.. like Five times now Josh-"

The courier sighed and Joshua rolled his own eyes at the shortening of his name by the courier. He never liked it, but he has accepted it at this point.

"Just try to sleep Courier. Conversation will only leave you awake."

"Fine..."

The Courier leaned their head against Joshua's arm, and Joshua almost pulled away, but their eyes were already closed, and they looked much more comfortable than before.

Joshua moved his hand to gently pat the courier on the top of their head, this was likely the most affectionate he would let himself be with the Courier, and only this once since it helped them sleep while they were feeling unwell. But he couldn't deny that it made him feel warm in a part of his heart he thought was long gone cold.

[bellonathedragonborn]

Hey y’all an amazing Fallout Author on AO3 is deleting her stories due to it being used to feed AI. (An AI program mentioned characters from this story).

She gave us full permission to download the story so I downloaded it into a PDF.

So here. Plus her last message to us:

[tame-the-lion-writes]

Joshua Graham, freshly fallen from grace, freshly bathed in fire, waking up to dull aches and pains in the firelight of a quiet shack—hissing as he tries to sit up, waking the young woman who’s been sleeping on the ground next to him, who gave him her lone cot and wrapped his wounds in linen and aloe vera. Joshua Graham who tries to threaten her, in Legion tongue, but finds his voice as crackled as the skin beneath his bandages, and she who only tilts her head aside with worried eyes. Joshua Graham who is subject to the helplessness he inflicted on others, yet receives grace, and watches with a strange gaze as she offers him water.

Joshua Graham, who doesn’t trust—not after Caesar—and certainly not now. Joshua Graham, who remains indifferent even as the woman spoon-feeds him with a steady, patient hand and earnest eyes, while he can do nothing but lay in wait for days—weeks, even—and in the haze of the setting sun, watches her read an Old Book long abandoned. Joshua Graham, whose quiet refusal has begun to sting as much as his wounds.

Joshua Graham, who rises again, and leaves the cot after not-so-solitary confinement. Joshua Graham, who follows the healer into the light of the sun, where he trails behind as she knocks the Indian rice into her baskets, and grinds the grain into fine meal. Joshua Graham, who eventually goes from perceiving to partaking—leaching bitter tannins from acorns and taking the stone from her hand—who scoffs as she whispers thanks to an animal caught in his trap, yet pauses in wonder when she hastens its death. Joshua Graham, who wonders if it is mercy or punishment, that he was not granted the same.

Joshua Graham, who recovers slow and steady. Who remains silent as the woman routinely wraps and unwraps his bandages, revealing angry red skin. Joshua Graham, whose gradually learns to accept the woman's meanderings, yet still turns his eyes away when she sits by the fire—hands grasped together, head bowed in prayer. Joshua Graham, who feels the creak in his bones when he flexes his own tendons, and wonders if he should even place his palms together once more. Joshua Graham, who, on some higher level, wishes to flay the skin from his knees by kneeling for forgiveness, yet believing it would never undo all he's done.

Joshua Graham, who doesn't try to undo anything—but tries new things. Joshua Graham, who allows himself the struggle of weaving reeds, and fights the tremble of broken hands as he does so. Joshua Graham, who returns to the menial task of chopping wood, who does not let the woman gather sticks, who carries his work inside they may survive another night. Joshua Graham, who takes it upon himself to hunt, so the woman no longer has to kill—who makes sure he does it clean—and quick—that he remains a steward and not a butcher, and that they do not suffer. Joshua Graham, who no longer knows how to be gentle, but who knows how to give.

Joshua Graham, who wakes to the rumble of footsteps in the middle of the night, and must drag his host from the flames of her home, lest she burn the same as him. Joshua Graham, who knows his past has come to haunt him, and that he shall never escape—that even in moments of peace, he is watched equally by Caesar and by God—that there is no rest for the wicked, but the pit and tar and ruin.

Joshua Graham, who watches his companion dig through the ashes with bloodied fingers, that she might retrieve that Old Book, for she believes they need it more than food or water. Joshua Graham who does not help her, but holds her shoulder as she cries, and pulls her from the wreckage with promises of finding another. Who whispers that he knows a place, and of people, and of others. Who tells her that she shall find her treasure, as she carries it now, and it will never leave her.

Joshua Graham, who sits at the angel's side in silence, and finally—finally—decides to join her as she prays. Joshua Graham, who bows his head in reverence, repentance, and finds a waste of tears falling from his eyes. Joshua Graham, who begs and hoarsens his voice, who speaks hate because he hates himself, who believes in love that isn't for him, who is then pulled into a warm embrace by both deity and dream, and sobs against the shoulder of the woman holding him. Joshua Graham, who remains there 'til morning.

Joshua Graham, who holds empty his open hand, and lets her fingers intertwine with his, to begin their journey home.

[libertybri]

Can I please get some romantic/fluffy Raul headcanons?

These are going to be very sporadic and random, so bear with me

Raul best shows affection to Six by words of affirmation, constantly uplifting and complimenting them

If Six is struggling to sleep next to him, he will softly sing in their ear

He loves to slow dance

Sometimes when Raul comes across scrap pieces of paper, he will write love letters for Six to keep

He stitches the holes in Six’s clothes, as well as makes repairs on their weapons and armor without them noticing

Raul prefers to make dinner for the two of them on date nights to impress Six with some old family recipes he remembers

If Six does not speak Spanish, he is more than willing and even excited to teach them

He loves to receive love in physical touch and words of affirmation

He will swoon for sweet words out of Six’s mouth, especially if it’s spoken in his native tongue

Hugs are his favorite thing from his favorite person; He loves to rest his head in the crook of Six’s neck and take in their scent while they hold each other tightly

He dreams of one day leaving the Vegas life behind and living on a farm with just him and Six, maybe a few brahmin and chickens

He would follow Six to the ends of the Earth and shows that love to them so easily and confidently

[callmewisteria]

When It All Falls Apart

When the conspiracy began to take shape in the late 2060s, the faces, names, companies, contractors, and entities behind it all thought they had until the turn of the century to implement their plans. As it turned out, they were a little more than twenty years off when it all fell apart. Series of one-shots zooming in on ten of the biggest players with a stake in a nuclear war – one that came earlier than they had planned for.

AKA how ten minutes of Fallout On Prime turned into over 60k words of writing over the course of six months. I couldn't be happier to finally have this published, and, yes, it fits into my series of Fallout fics It Began On October 23rd, 2077. Read it on AO3, ff.net, and/or wattpad!

[courier-nix]

Still reposting old art. I touched this one up a bit but not much. It's my courier taking a picture of the King and Rex. This was a scene from my fanfic

From 2023 at some point

[katies80s]

What's you're Fallout 🔥Hot Take🔥

It could be ANYTHING

like... a n y t h i n g

[lilacretrograde]

I said I was going to do this months ago, so here I am keeping my word. all bets are off, a Fallout New Vegas AU fic is now live again. I've taken time to rework the character development and storyline and I'm much happier with the direction now.

Buried in a shallow grave with a gunshot to the head, Courier 6 comes back from the dead like a revenant, hell-bent on revenge. It feels like a Cooper Howard western she’d seen on a holotape years before, but the cowgirl from Jackson turned delivery woman will learn what is really the danger of the expansive desert.

Annie’s quest for vengeance takes her across the wasteland, where she meets a talkative Brotherhood Scribe and eventually, the man who tried to leave her for dead. Does she let him live and ride off into the sunset, or finally get her revenge?

After all, what happens in New Vegas stays in New Vegas.

Check out the new first chapter here!

[fallout-underworld]

Alright yall,

Wheres cooper “the ghoul” Howard fanfics at😝

[oldworldwidgets]

have u ever wondered "hm, how would oldworldwidgets' new vegas oc teddy would react to the honest hearts DLC if he was trapped in there with another courier"? lucky for you, i come bearing answers! well... one answer. one 40k+ word answer.

introducing honest hearts, a collaborative story in which my teddy and @odd-ball-out's amantis have to find their way out of zion together. an indifferent cowboy and a cares-so-much-it-hurts sniper, puttin' their heads together. i mean, what could go wrong?

we had so much fun writing this beast together!!!! like truly it was such a blast putting teddy and amantis is a big rocky terrarium together and shakin' em around real good :3 and it'd mean the world to us if you gave it a read!!! we hope you love our guys as much as we do <3

[everydayyoulovemeless]

Old Fashioned ↠ The King x Reader

➼ Word Count » 0.7k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ Genre » Romantic

Music rang throughout the crowded rooms in the School of Impersonation as the broken-down jukebox sang sorrowfully in the corner. Its glitched and sporadic chants did little to dissuade the gang from enjoying themselves, however, as they all still seemed to have about as much fun as if the music were clear.

You leaned against the wall behind the makeshift bar, watching as the King members ran around drinking and dancing on stage. The white dress you stole from the Ultra-Luxe fitted you nicely as you cradled your own alcohol in your hand, enjoying the multiple Elvis songs that the members took turns singing into the busted microphone.

You jumped in surprise when you heard your bell being rung, you're eyes scanned over the rows of barstools before they landed on the King. "Sorry, baby, didn't mean to make ya all shook up like that.".

You grinned at him, "Don't worry about it. Here for another drink?"

"I sure am, could you get me one for the heart?"

"One for the heart? Did one of your groupies leave you?"

His blue eyes locked onto yours for a minute before he replied, "Yeah, somethin' like that."

You rummaged around in your crates before pulling out a bottle of beer. Simple, but he seemed to enjoy them well enough.

"I'm worried about you, King, did something happen? I feel like you're never hanging around your girls anymore." Normally you'd see the two women he was usually around at least once a day, but it'd been around a week since the last time you saw them.

"I'm hangin' round you, ain't I?" He said, offering you a quiet 'thank ya' as you handed him over the drink.

"You know what I mean." You said, leaning against the counter to better level yourself with the man who sat on the bar stool before you. "What's going on? Was there an argument?"

His fingers tapped rhythmically on the counter, supposedly a nervous habit, although, you don't ever think you've seen him anxious in your life. "Would you mind comin' upstairs with me? I'd rather talk with you in a more uh—secluded location."

"You're the boss." You quickly wiped your hands off onto a rag before following closely behind him up the stairs of the relatively large building. You ran your hand along the rusted railing as you went, you were slightly anxious about what he wanted to talk to you about and prayed that he wasn't mad about the whole 'banned-from-the-Ultra-Luxe-for-not-following-industry-rules' incident. You thought you brushed most of it under the rug, but maybe something happened to reach his ears all the way out in Freeside?

"Sooo, what'd you wanna tell me? I hope I'm not in trouble." You joked, attempting to alleviate the tension that was slowly starting to set. You'd been in the King's room many times before, most people have, he's not very strict about who can and can't wander up to that floor, but seeing it without all his usual girls made you feel confused and slightly uneasy.

"(Y/N), I don't know what's overcome me but I can't seem to shake you from my thoughts." He blurted, placing his hands gently on your shoulders.

"What?" You asked. This wasn't where you thought the conversation would go at all.

"Listen, you don't gotta say anythin' right now. I get that I'm technically your boss an' all that, but—well—I just wanna offer you this dance."

You giggled, flattered at the offer as you stepped closer to drape your arms around his neck, his hands instinctively sliding down your waist. "Of course." Is all you said before he began to sway you across the wooden floors that still held sturdy after all these years. The old-fashioned slow dance didn't mix well with the songs the others blasted downstairs, but it didn't seem to matter, the King still handled you delicately as you danced. And when the music started to slow, he dipped you down, kissed your temple, and let you go.

He wrapped your hands around his arm as he led you to the pool table that sat off to the side, "How 'bout a game of pool?"

[acroagoraphobe]

What Makes a Man a Monster.

Chapter 2: Normal To The Human Eye?

(Gonna do a much longer chapter this time. Enjoy this trainwreck!!)

After an estimated few hours, Sixer stirred once again after rolling roughly down the hill from the Goodsprings Cemetery so... Unceremoniously. It was genuinely pathetic for a being of his status of omnipotence. He picked his ass up and stumbled towards a nearby saloon, dragging his still blood soaked boots as he walked. He didn't have time to read the sign or look back at the people giving him horrified looks of a man seemingly walking off being shot twice in the head. Everyone heard the gunshots in the night, but no one bothered to check what it was, so they didn't have to risk their own asses.

This was absolutely not the average day for the various folks in the bar, seeing a man with two gaping holes drilling through his head, saunter on in like it was just his average day. Hell, looking only slightly annoyed even. It was genuinely difficult to tell due to all the blood and bits of brain splattered across his face. No one even dared to approach Sixer as he sat down in a booth, fearing they'd seen death himself. But before you could blink.. he looked fine again, Although the blood still made his shirt stick to him and yes it's as uncomfortable as ever.

Blood dripped down his face and onto his neck, Making his clothes more ruined than they already were. Covered in dirt, muck and.. By the Lord whatever the hell else. That ratty old tank top he wore stuck to his skin and was honestly more of an inconvenience to him than the gunshot wounds in his head. The dusty old floorboards creaked beneath his boots, their dry, dead appearance getting dotted with bloody dust... or dusty blood. Because there's obviously a difference between the two.. Totally. But either way, Sixer was a fucking mess. Dirty, bloody, and dusty, walking into a bar.

The seat creaked beneath him as he sat down in the old booth in the dark corner of the bar, Sixer began to asses his situation. His bag was gone, his gun was gone, And worst of all, his damn dignity was gone. Not like he really had it in the first place, but still.

Soon enough one of the folks in the bar grew interested in this man, Sitting down in the booth across him. A woman with a dog that followed around at her ankles despite it's size and that It could very easily trip her. "What the hell happened to a newcomer like you all the way out here?" Her voice questioned Sixer, Who had to pretend he didn't already know her name. Sunny Smiles. He had to wait and be polite for her to actually introduce herself. Ah, the akwardness of omnipotence is.. greatly annoying. She looked so upbeat despite seeing a man covered in his own blood and chunks of brain.

[ Lot's of reasons I'm out here, none of them I can really explain. ]

And they did. They always did, so predictable.

Sixer uttered, with a voice unknown to him, but well known to everyone around him. Sunny looked slightly suspicious but kept that same smile on her face. It was damn annoying how nice she was, at least to Sixer. But a lot of people were annoying.. People are very simple minded creatures. All he had to do was wait for the usual "You better not cause any trouble then." words to come out of Sunny's mouth. It's always what people said when he came around like this.

[Not planning on it, I just want to get a drink then hike my ass outta here.]

"Well, Let's hope you don't cause any trouble around here. We're a peaceful little town here." Sunny Smiles said with caution, her dog looked a lot less trustful of Sixer. Well.. more like it wanted to maul him. Dogs hated him.

Sixer responded to her statement, before he remembered his lack of caps.. or anything to his name.

[Or not, Forgot I have.. No caps whatsoever.]

Sixer muttered under his breath as he shifted in his seat. blood continued to drip down onto his clothing, but it was from his nose, not his head.

"Well, since you seem to be pretty down on your luck here.. I can get you a drink this once. Since youre new here." She smiled, standing up and talking to the woman tending the bar. Sixer knew her name too, but it wasn't exactly relevant. Sunny placed down a few caps at the counter and came back with a beer in hand, setting it on the table Sixer was sat at.

[Thanks, I'll be out of your hair soon, Don't worry.]

Sixer took a swig of the beer and took a deep breath. He had no idea where to go.

[bellonathedragonborn]

Does anyone else hate it when people new to AO3 treat the website like Instagram and add/tag games or fandoms that have nothing to do with what they’re writing about?

I am currently writing for the Fallout game series and ever since the Tv show came out people have been making fic and TAGGING ALL OF THE GAMES when they should just be tagging the show.

It’s annoying and makes it hard to find out what’s actually a part of a specific fandom or just something added in for exposure.

It also buries fics that belong to that fandom.

(I’m going to tag the games below so any of y’all that’s doing this can see this and stop.)