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sinisterexaggerator · 5 months ago

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Final Straw

Nick Valentine x Fem Reader | Ao3

Summary: You're sick to death of listening to people insult and belittle Nick; you take matters into your own hands, much to the Synth's surprise, but your methods are a little bit unorthodox.

Warnings: None, except for blood, violence, and foul language. NICK GETS SUPER PISSED AT YOU, and you also share a kiss. 💋

IT'S FLUFF.

Notes: This is SELF-INDULGENT AF. I hate it when people insult Nick in the game. This is my way of getting them back! And I want to kiss him and tell him I love him so bad. ;-:

Word count: 2k

It was the final straw, the one that broke the brahmin’s back, Nick Valentine left to defend himself against hate and bigotry for the umpteenth time, and you would not be party to it.

For so long you had traveled by Nick’s side, learning of the many facets to his personality. If there was a single thing about him you did not like, it had to be the ease with which he practiced self-deprecation, not knowing how to remedy the awful perception he had about himself.

Oftentimes, he regurgitated what came out the mouths of others; it had been internalized, compartmentalized, processed, and stored in his long-term memory, the detective unable to let things go—just like so many cases that remained unsolved.

“Shit, a Synth— don’t come near me. What a freak, thinks he’s human…”

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t go near you if it meant tomorrow I’d wake up from this nightmare.”

Your soul ached, knowing that every insult, every snide remark caused some level of psychic damage to your partner, his expressions all too readable for those times he was robbed of his fragile dignity, though always walking away the bigger man.

A culmination of varying factors led you to this, Nick’s tragic past haunting not only himself, but you; what you wouldn’t give to make it better, only wishing you had the power to convince him he was worth more than half the Commonwealth combined.

If Valentine could equate himself to nothing more than garbage, you could be the one to remind him that someone else’s trash was frequently another’s treasure— in this case, he was yours.

Though not privy to your feelings, you adored Nick completely. So much so, you were not above engaging in a physical altercation on his behalf.

“Say that again,” you threatened scathingly, turning to face the asshole who had just dared to disrespect your companion, and for no good reason.

“I said he’s a freak, lady—and what’s a pretty thing like you doing traveling with him, anyway?” the ill-mannered caravan guard asked, acting as if Valentine was some disease he could catch, making a blatant show of his disgust.

The hired gun pulled no reaction from the Synth, though Nick stared at you tight-lipped, unnatural, glowing eyes trained hard on your face. His silence spoke volumes, instructing you with a stern look beneath the shade of his hat to drop the matter and turn the other cheek—it was something you weren’t willing to do this time, meeting your newfound enemy head-on.

“Apologize!” you demanded, shoving your adversary backward with a forceful push, both your palms making contact with his ribs. Your cheeks burned, accompanying a rise in your temper, readying yourself for if this vermin should do anything but grovel at Nick’s feet.

“Forget it, this guy ain’t worth it,” Nick offered laconically, hoping to appeal to your common sense. “I’ve heard worse in my time; being called a freak is the least of my concerns.”

“But you’re worth it!” you protested, Valentine’s forehead arcing upward at the conviction in your voice. He had a momentary lapse, his concentration faltering as he tried to get a handle on the situation, Nick having visualized an entirely different outcome based on variables that were currently in flux—namely the sudden change in your mood.

It seemed the shithead had caught on, smarter than he looked, eyeing the two of you with suspicion and derision, as if the very idea you could have feelings toward this hunk of junk was baffling when able-bodied, strong men like him existed.

“Oh, I get it. You’re real sick, lady, a real pervert—you fucking a machine? What’s the matter, human men aren’t good en—”

The jerk was cut off mid-sentence, your balled up fist coming into contact with his jaw; a resounding crack split sound waves as blood spurted from his lips. His colleagues had already wandered off down the road, not wanting to be a part of whatever trouble he had found himself in, having silently agreed to let this member of their team fend for himself.

“You fucking bitch!” the guard twice your size growled, swinging wildly only to miss. Your leg extended; you were pleased when he stumbled, only wishing he had fallen flat on his face.

“Now, wait a—”

He was quick to right himself, spinning on the ball of his heel—you were quicker, kneeing him in the nuts so hard he doubled over, but you weren’t finished yet.

Lifting your arm to gain momentum, you drove the point of your elbow into his spine, causing the offender to drop onto the dirt at your feet.

“I'd say he's down for the—”

Nick couldn’t get a word out; you didn’t appear to be listening, the android observing your uncharacteristic actions with rapt concern. You were pounding your knuckles into the bastard’s nose repeatedly, sticky crimson coating your fist and the man’s sorely wounded face.

As if coming to from a trance, Valentine whisked forward, snatching your wrist before you could cause the poor schmuck any more damage, thinking he may look worse off than even he, what with his bare wires and metal frame exposed to the elements.

“Hey! What’s gotten into you?!” Nick barked, his tone alone condemning your inappropriate conduct, the Synth yanking you up so fast you audibly gasped.

“There ain’t no excuse for this—this guy may be a jackass, but that doesn’t mean he deserves to die!” Nick protested, brows knit in anger the likes of which you had never seen.

You glanced down, only now seeming to notice the extent of his injuries; the man was out like a light. You only cared because he did.

“Nick, I—” you began, voice quavering, losing all resolve as you had been forced to witness Valentine’s sweet disposition vanish, quickly replaced by something undeniably frightening.

You never once imagined yourself to be the victim of his choler, finding you absolutely hated it, breaking down all at once to cry despite not meaning to. You felt simultaneously overwhelmed by guilt and embarrassed beyond measure, unable to look him in the eye.

“Don’t Nick me, this isn’t like you, this—” The man froze, his grip slackening as he loosely held on, thoroughly confused by how you could go from nearly murdering a man in cold blood with your bare hands, to shedding tears in the span of under a minute; he moved to grasp you by your shoulders.

“What’s going on?” he asked, perplexed, the question dry on his tongue. He searched your face for any hint of what the matter was, wondering if you’d lost a screw sometime after leaving Diamond City, as he thought he had a handle on how you operated.

You could not will yourself to respond, vision clouded, droplets pelting your cheeks as you gazed at the ground. You felt worse than a scolded child; you had never meant to upset him so, it being decidedly more terrible than any physical pain you had yet to endure.

“Look at me, damn you!” Valentine demanded, gently jostling you back to the present moment, though your tears only increased, Nick having never cursed at you before.

“Valentine,” you whispered, eyes shimmering, Nick’s fury subsiding to a dull roar as he waited for you to explain yourself. The crease of his brow evened out, the Synth notably more relaxed, though he did not trust you wouldn’t lash out again.

“Go on,” he urged sharply, wanting to get to the bottom of your behavior. It was unnerving, not knowing what else you were capable of at the drop of a dime.

It was an understatement to say that he was surprised when you lifted your arms, pulling the man forward to enfold in your tight embrace. You buried your cheek in the tattered, stained fabric of his coat, crying more softly now as it started to rain.

“Don’t listen to them,” you pleaded, “don’t ever listen to them. You’re perfect just the way you are,” you spoke with earnest, your lips pressing a tender kiss to the spot that lacked a heartbeat, though the gesture stood apart on its own.

“I can’t stand it—the way people treat you, the way they talk down to you—if only they knew—if only they could see what I see—” you sobbed, the sound of your cries muffled against his chest; it was firm, his shirt smelling like coolant and ozone—cigarettes mixed with something earthy—you breathed in deeply, overcome with silent relief when Nick placed his metallic hand on the crown of your head.

“I... I appreciate you, doll,” he started, his voice turning toward a soothing cadence, the way he pet your hair in long, slow strokes comforting you more than it should. “But you didn’t have to do that; would have preferred if you didn’t. Jerks like him get their comeuppance, but it shouldn’t be at the price of dirtying your hands.”

You had never been this intimate with him, nor had you ever planned to be—his words were unscripted, and his affection given of his own volition. You curled in tighter, nuzzling your way into the crook of his good arm, wanting to entomb yourself there for all eternity.

“I’m sorry,” you offered apologetically, feeling the pressure of Nick’s own arms around you, returning your hug, making you feel as if you could die happy at this moment, not minding in the least that there was an unconscious, bleeding man lying only a hairbreadth away. “It hurts me, like I know it hurts you.”

Nick was quiet, mulling over the fact it didn’t do you or him any good to disparage his own person when there were others to do it for him. He had never considered the effect it might have on those around him; it came naturally to want to harp on his own shortcomings—or had it come natural to the real Nick? That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it.

“You’re right, it does. But I shouldn’t let it bother me, not when I have people like you by my side.”

“I love you, Valentine,” you countered, not recognizing the softness of your own voice. You felt a shift beneath you, your head being coaxed to rise by way of a slow tilt of your chin.

Nick stared down at you, gleaming, golden eyes emoting dolefully as he gazed into yours. He held a deep-seated sorrow, not only for you, but for himself, wishing that he was human, if only so he could touch you, hold you, kiss you the way he wanted to.

“That’s not the smartest thing you’ve ever said, but I take it you mean that,” Valentine replied, bending low to brush soft, silicone lips across yours of flesh and blood; they were cool and rough in texture, but not unpleasant. The fact he was kissing you at all was a dream come true.

“With all my heart,” you replied, cupping the Synth's battered cheek in the bowl of your palm, fingers trailing over artificial skin in a light caress.

“So, that’s what this was all about,” he remarked, conjuring up a smile. “You know, I’d give you mine,” he added solemnly, his glum tone indicative of something he was not telling you.

Instead of elaborating, Nick changed the subject, always one to brighten a dark mood. “Next time, just tell me what’s on your mind instead of beating the living daylights out of some poor schmo, all right?”

You managed a smile of your own, delighting in his sarcasm, glad for the fact your confession had taken a lighthearted turn. “I can’t make any promises,” you quipped.

The detective gave a small shake of his head, that lopsided, infectious grin of his spreading up one side of his face. “Taking a page out of my book, are you?”

“I learned from the best,” you breathed, kissing him once more. Though selfish of you, for all you cared, the world could undergo another nuclear war, and you wouldn’t bat a lash, not for as long as you had your funny Valentine.

#Nick Valentine #Valentine fallout 4 #Fallout 4 #Fallout #Nick Valentine x Reader #Nick Valentine x Fem Reader #Fluff #Fanfiction #Fallout fanfiction #My writing #Synth #Synth detective #Nick Valentine x Sole Survivor #Sole Survivor

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finniestoncrane · 5 months ago

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Nick Valentine x GN!Reader, word count: 1.4k hi hello i had to write this because i'm going insane about him. he might be my self-insert's father figure, but i've got daddy issues, so welcome to that nightmare. just some pleasure-dom nick having the tables turned on him, with reader treating him to a little bit of pleasure geared towards his... well, gears 🚬 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: electrostimulation, thigh riding/grinding, sort of implied that reader has a vagina in that they get him wet but that could be precum kjhkjhasd

Nick tapped the cigarette against the ashtray on his desk, his degloved hand, all metal and hinges, clutching the burning embers, determined to get one last draw out of it. But it dwindled before his bright, yellow eyes, and instead he stubbed it out with a sigh, looking to the clock on top of the filing cabinet. Still plenty of time left in the day. Only six, that was barely the evening.

There was always time for one more case. Always room to squeeze in more work. And though the in tray was empty, he could still go out and sniff out a new case to work on. So he stood up from the desk, refreshed determination, and reached for his trench coat, which wasn't in its usual place. Quickly frustrated, he called out.

"Ellie? Ellie! Where's my coat? Have you seen it?"

From the front of the room, entering silently and unnoticed as Nick kept lifting piles of old paperwork in a futile search for his jacket, you watched him.

"I sent Ellie home, Nick. Work's over for the day."

He turned to you, ready to chastise you for telling him when his business could be open, but he was stopped by the vision before him.

Leaning against the wall, you smiled to him, chewing on your lip to stop the grin spreading too much and ruining your blasé, sultry attitude. He wasn't going to find his coat, because you were wearing it. The top buttons were undone, exposing a lot more chest than he was used to seeing on you, but the others were fastened, concealing your body from him, and the susprise you had for him below it.

"I see the case of the missing coat has been solved then."

"Hm, I guess so. But there's always the mystery of what's underneath."

Nick sat back down at his desk, lighting another cigarette once he was settled in his chair. He took one long draw and looked up at you past the brim of his hat.

"You got any clues for me then, sweetheart?"

Your fingers teased over one of the buttons, slowly undoing it, letting the lapels fall a little further apart.

"How's that?"

"I think I might need a little more."

Another button, undone slower than the last, his patience wearing as his lust built up.

"Any closer, detective?"

"How about you give an old man a break and just show me?"

Quickly undoing the last of the buttons, you let the coat fall open, exposing your body clad in intricate lingerie. Torn and frayed a little, here and there, but nicer than anything he'd seen in a long time.

You walked over to the desk, one foot in front of the other, taking your time on the journey and relishing the way his eyes took you in, the bright yellow light rising from your toes to your head. His mouth opened, and his cigarette fell out, stubbing itself in the ashtray, the smoke rising up to frame you as you perched on the edge of the desk. Leaning across, you picked up his cigarette and placed it back in his mouth, lifting the lighter and flicking it, watching the dulled embers spark back to life as he took another draw.

When he was close to the end, you walked around the desk and settled yourself on one of his thighs, waiting for him to stub out the butt before you caressed his cheek, fingers teasing at the exposed hinge of his jaw.

"I have another little surprise for you."

Your hand slipped into the pocket of his coat, producing a set of jumper cables as you kicked a little makeshift battery out from under the desk. Nick looked at you quizzically, but with a hint of excitement.

"It's your turn. I thought it might be nice to see you get a little kick for a change."

Sliding down from the desk, you perched on one of his thighs, your body tingling with arousal as his hands moved protectively around your hips to keep you steady. With a grateful smile, you reached up and removed his hat, setting it down on the desk, free hand caressing his cheek as you took in his features without the shadow of the brim.

"What are you waiting for then, doll?"

His sly grin had your heart pounding as your fingers made their way to his tie, loosening it and letting it hang around his neck as you turned your attention to this buttons of his shirt. You opened each one slowly, deftly, letting your fingertips glide over the soft, synthetic texture of his chest. Completely smooth, but you could work with that.

Pinching a bit of his skin away from his exoskeleton, you clamped one end of the jumper cable to it, the other attached to the battery. And then you did the same on the other side of his chest, a second makeshift nipple to attach your tools too. Two jumper cables, both ready to go. You lifted the battery up, your thumb hovering over the power switch on the side.

"You ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

Pushing down, you let the small jolt of electricity pass through him, his body insulated, saving you from the majority of the shockwave but still enough electricity tingling over him that you felt the benefit yourself.

Nick's jaw loosened, the tattered remnants of his neck trembling as he twitched with pleasure. It was as close to arousal as he would ever experience, each fresh spark another wave that crashed over him, a pulse of excitement. And it was only heightened by the way your eyes sparkled back as you looked into his, the yellow light reflecting in your pupils, the way that it dimmed and brightened as the electricity coursed through him.

The excitement wasn't lost on your either. Soft, sharp throbs of arousal, jolts of joy from each little push of the button had you on edge, skin hot and prickled. In an act so desperate it made you blush, you could feel yourself beginning to roll your hips, aching for some friction against your heat, needing to feel yourself on Nick as you rode his thigh.

As he felt your body pushing down onto him, satisfying yourself, using him to get off, he groaned softly. The sound rumbled in his throat, a slight hitch to it as another round of shockwaves travelled through his wires.

Flicking the battery off, you settled once again into your rhythm, grinding your body into him, rutting forwards and backwards along his thigh, unable to really control yourself. It felt good just to feel him, to fuck yourself on him as you watched him revel in the effects of your stimulation.

"You're having fun, aren't you?"

You couldn't tell if it was playful teasing, given how obvious your arousal was, or if Nick was genuinely worried that this was only enjoyable for him. You reasoned that it was probably a bit of both. He was used to giving pleasure, not necessarily receiving it. He liked for you to be the focus, the one that the attention was on. It felt strange for him to have you in power, to let you do all the hard work. So you took one of his hands, shifting your body down his thigh a little and placing his palm where you had been grinding against him.

"You're the detective, Nick. Figure it out..."

He felt the sensation of damp against the fabric, your slick coating his thigh.

"I don't have a change of pants with me, missy."

"Well, you'll just have to think of a good excuse if anyone asks what that stain is, Valentine."

His fingertips were cool against your cheek, the exposed metal tingling against your skin as he stroked it softly. The bright yellow light of his eyes was difficult to look into for too long, but you accepted the strain just to keep the connection there, only looking down when he pressed his forehead to yours.

"Ok... as long as you're having fun then... you could try increasing the voltage this time."

Looking back up at him, you blushed as he winked, an immediate and renewed warmth spreading over you once more.

"Yes, Mr Valentine."

#finnie2k #finnie writes #x reader #nick valentine #nick valentine x reader #nick vaneltine fallout #fallout #fallout 4 #fo4

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alisscared · 6 months ago

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I hope with all this fallout 4 revival people will start to make more fanfictions about Nick Valentine

#nick valentine #fallout #fallout 4 #I want to fuck the robot #nick valentine x sole survivor #nick valentine x reader

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mlmxreader · 3 months ago

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this post is for the faggots & only the faggots

women DNI, unless we're mutuals/friends, this isn't a post for you

minors DNI, this is an 18+ post.

Fallout 4 + Sex

includes: Gage, Preston Garvey, MacCready, Hancock, Valentine, Danse, Sturges, Mason (Pack alpha) & Old Longfellow.

all are done w male reader.

Gage

100% likes to have you bent over a surface when he fucks you, as long as you say you want him to; he especially likes it when you suggest that he should fuck you against a window for all the other raiders below to see. He loves how tight your ass is around him and he loves it when you lick his cock clean; he has a massive soft spot for seeing you masturbate, though. Watching your hand work your cock as those little moans of his name slip from your mouth as you beg him to join in or at least help you out.

"Don't worry, boss, I'll be there in a second."

Preston Garvey

While not massively kinky, Preston will admit that he likes the rush of outdoor sex; he likes to ride you and bite down on the skin of your neck to try and stifle his moans, hoping that no one hears and thinks that something's wrong. He loves the way you grip his hips as you thrust up into his ass, grunting out his name between gritted teeth in a vain attempt to keep quiet. Fuck, Preston would carry on forever if there wasn't yet another settlement that needed help. He has to admit, though, he's thought about having sex at the castle a lot and he does want to try it.

"Quiet, General, I think I hear someone coming."

R.J. MacCready

Do not let him fool you. MacCready fucking loves to tie you up, tease your cock until your eyes are filled with tears, make you beg for it - almost as much as he loves the slow, sensual nights with you riding him slowly. He'll fuck you anywhere you ask, as long as he's 100% certain there's no enemies nearby. His favourite is when you let him fuck you in the mornings; sloppy and slow, every stroke almost painstakingly gentle as you bury your face in the pillows and beg for him to cum in your ass. He loves it, he's not shy about admitting it, either.

"What's the matter, cowboy? You can't keep up?"

John Hancock

Get the Rad-X and Radaway, boys! Hancock can (and will) go all fucking day and night if you ask him to. He's got some reservations, like, he won't fuck you anywhere TOO risky mostly because he doesn't want to get you into trouble - bit otherwise? You just say the fucking word. And he's SO vocal, too, always moaning so loudly with his face buried in the mattress, your cock slamming into him as he grips the already torn sheets and just fucking begs for you to keep going. Hancock isn't fucking shy, either - he will ask you to fuck him whilst you're wearing the Silver Shroud armour. He will beg. Do the voice, too, and he'll be cumming before you even touch him.

"Aw, shit, sweetheart, is that for me?"

Nick Valentine

Classy, that's one word for it. Nick has a lot of old-world memories about pornography, and he isn't really all that keen on it. Sure, roleplay sounds fun - if you're down to be the guy delivering the extra sausage pizza, that is. But otherwise, Nick likes to take things slow; he's not exactly sure how much time he'll have before he needs to be repaired, so he wants to make the most of it. Whether you want to be top or bottom, he doesn't really care or mind - he'll take your cock just as happily as he'll fuck you in the ass. 100% has a consent kink, though, that man LOVES to hear you say how much you want it.

"And who said that this old bucket of gears and sprockets didn't have it in him anymore?"

Paladin Danse

Danse is very much the same in the bedroom as he is outside of it; he's collected, he's controlled, he's got a fat ass that he loves for you to bite and smack until it's raw and red and he's got tears in his eyes as he tells you to keep fucking going. Don't expect any less of Danse except for it to be a long, long session; he's so fucking good at taking your cock, you'll have cum 4 or 5 times once you're completely spent. He orders you around, telling you exactly how he wants you to fuck him, exactly what he wants you to do to him - like he's giving you fucking details for a mission. It's hot.

"Come on, soldier, you can fuck me better than that."

Sturges

He's good with technology, that's for absolute sure. He'll ask you to test out some new dildo he made and he fucking loves it every time; watching how you cum and beg for him to fuck you, kiss you, anything as you've got his new toy inside you. Fuck, even just thinking about it makes him hard; but he's never mean, much like Preston, he enjoys giving you a lot of praise and encouragement. The few times that you've let him use his toy on you and fuck you at the same time were always his favourite, though; watching how well you take his cock and the toy at the same time was fucking priceless.

"C'mon, baby, you're doin' so well for me already."

Mason (Alpha/Leader of The Pack)

Y'know the Nine Inch Nails song 'Closer'? Yeah, that sums up Mason, really. He's a kinky fuck. Constantly happy to let you ride him and cockwarm him while he's sat on that fucking throne of his; he'll fuck you anywhere you ask, and the guy has a HUGE kink for marking you up. You want him to bite? Scratch? Smack you around? He'll do it! You just have to say the word and he's fucking on it. He isn't shy about it, either, he's fucking possessive and he knows you like it by the way you get hard whenever he shows off. He's also more than happy to have you sit on his throne while he kneels between your legs and sucks you off; doing his best not to grin, knowing that no one can make you cum like he does.

"That's it, good boy, taking my cock so fucking well in front of everybody."

Old Longfellow

Rough. Longfellow is fucking rough with you. He won't bite or smack you, although he's quite happy to spank you if you ask, but he'll manhandle you and throw you around and if you ask him to. Outdoor sex by the sea is commonplace - if it's a nice day at his cabin, he'll fuck you outside. Doesn't care if he might get visitors. He does also like to make it last as much as he can, though, and often finds himself reminding you of how much he loves you - he doesn't want to say anything to you he might regret, so praise and little reminders are constant. If it gets too much, though, just say and he'll stop - grunting and growling and moaning in your ear instead.

"Not bad for a mainlander, are you? You almost take cock as well as an Islander."

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just-some-trans-nobody · 10 months ago

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Nick Valentines x GN reader

Pure fluff for y'all, with a touch of angst at the end. I know theres like zero demand for fallout 4 fanfic but I made a poll idk how nany months ago asking if I should make some Nick Valentine fanfic and I got a couole of yes and exactly one follower from that poll. So this goes out to the small anount of people who said yes and that one follower I got from it, theres nore Nick fanfic to come I've just haven't gotten around to it yet but I promise I'll post some every so often.

Like always minors don't interact!

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He loves playing with your hair when he thinks your asleep. Sense he doesn't sleep he'll join you in bed when he needs a break from going over files and lay down with you so he can olay with your hair.

It started with him sitting on the edge of the bed looking at the wall as he thought about his most current case but when you started to stir in your sleep, having a bad dream, he laid down next to you and held you in his arms whispering sweet things to you until you calmed dow.

He found himself enjoying having you in his arms. Thus started a routine of him slipping into bed with you every so often to take a break.

Normally he would take a smoke break when you slept but he found himself craving a cuddle more than a smoke lately.

Soon every so often turned into every night of him crawlling into bed with you and getting up before you woke.

One night he had been loat in thought about something and hadn't noticed you waking up until he heared your tired voice ask him what he was doing.

"What? Oh sorry didn't mean to wake ya." He said pulling his hand away.

He was surprised when you asked him to keep playing with your hair. More than happy to oblige he started playing with it again.

It soothed you back to sleep in his arms snuggling into his chest as you slept soundly.

The next night when you got into bed you patted the spot next to you with an expectant look.

"You want me to join you or somethin?" Nick would ask looking to the bed then to you. Nodding you head you gavw him a big smile.

Who could say bo to that?

Nick was now "going to bed" with you every time you were. Really it was him laying in bed playing with your hair as he talked avout whatever case he had currently going on until you fell asleep.

He wouldn't admit it, at least not out loud but he adored this nightly routine the two of you had going on though he never hid the smile on his face every time he saw you getting ready for bed or how fast he was to crawl into bed with you to cuddle.

Nick always played it off cool as if it wasn't the favorite part of his day or anything.

If you asked he would probably say aomething like. "Just doing my job to keep those pesky nightmares away." Or "only making sure you don't stop breaming in your sleep. You humans are rather fragile after all."

Acts as if he isn't often the first one in bed waiting for you.

Before he atarted cuddlibg you every night he would work straight through the night till morning. He wouldn't even realized you had gone to bed till you walked oast him yawning telling him good morning.

Now though? He reminds you every night at 9pm sharp that you need to go to bed.

He'll play it off as your human and need to get a healthy amount of sleep as he actively take his coat and tie off to get comfortable.

If you buy him a pair of pajamas to wear he'll laugh avout it and say he doesn't need them.

He's wearing them the very next day.

If you gad gotten them before he started cuddling you every bight he would just give you a weird look for the thoughtless gift and put it in his empty dresser to collect dust or to be used by guests staying the night. He didn't sleep why would he need pajamas?

Now though? Might own three different pairs

You bet they match with your pajamas.

If anyone else sees him in his pajamas he'll puff out his chest as he puts his hands on his hips. "What? You never seen a synth in lounge wear before? Beat it, it's time for bed."

Nick takes bed time very seriously.

He's big spoon. It feels weird for him to be little spoon

Wont fight you if you want to try big spooning for once but he wasn't really into it

Nick much more prefers having you in his arms. It helps ground him and reminds him that you truly are here now with him and bot some memory from the past seeping into his present.

That and how can he play with your hair all night if he's not facing you silly?

He will lean in every so often and place a soft kiss on your forward as he whispers a soft "I love ya." As to bot wake you.

If he ever lost you he would lay in the bed alone holding onto your pajamas as he tried to think back on all those nights he spent laying in bed with you. He would stop after a few weeks as it hurt too much but after a few years when he had time to heal he would start doing it again so he could feel like you were there again. Nick didn't know how much he missed this, how much he missed you.

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everydayyoulovemeless · 1 year ago

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[Valentine Idolizes You]

➼ Word Count » 0.5k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ Summary » Headcanons based on how Nick treats you once idolized.

Starting off with the basics, he's gonna wanna hire you. He'll even offer you his bed in the agency, it's not like he sleeps in it anyway. You, him, and Ellie are gonna be the greatest group of detectives in the Commonwealth. Ellie can hold down the fort at home while you and Nick go solve mysteries.

If he hasn't seen you for more than 2 weeks, then, depending on how many cases he's working on, he's gonna go looking for you. He doesn't wanna come across as overbearing, but he's so concerned about losing you, he honestly can't help but want to ensure that you're alright.

That being said, he's always gonna be there for you. You need someone to talk to? Head on over to Nick's place, you were there for him with Winter and he'll gladly be there for you.

Expect a lot of moments where the two of you just sit in comfortable silence. Him looking over case files and you tinkering with your weapons.

Nick—especially around the holidays—will light a little campfire somewhere in the agency and the three of you (you, Nick, and Ellie) will just sit around and talk. It's one of his favorite past times. Just a nice, comfortable moment to take a breath and celebrate yourselves for all the work you've completed together.

Nick will be one of, if not the, most honest person you'll ever come across. He might soften it a bit but Nick will still tell you the truth, whether it's hard or not. He doesn't think he has it in him to keep something from you.

Nick has a habit of quoting pre-war media because he knows you'll understand the references.

If you have the Mysterious Stranger perk, he'll occasionally sit you down in his office and confide his findings with you. He wants to know what you think about him and every detail involving your interactions with the stranger.

Nick is naturally a more serious and sarcastic person, but he finds that he smiles a lot more when he's with you. Nothing big, but nothing too subtle either.

Whenever you meet someone new, Nick likes to interrogate them. He's like a dad in that sense. Again, he's worried he'll come off as overbearing, but he wants to make sure you're not being taken advantage of.

The kind of guy who teaches you how to tie a tie.

If you agreed to stay with him and Ellie at the agency, then he'll frequently ask if you want to go on walks with him around Diamond City. Domestic things like this make him feel at peace, especially when it's with someone he cares about.

Nick really likes to play blackjack with you and, unless you have a crazy good luck stat, he'll win every time. He, at the very least, isn't prone to bragging. It's one of the pros of playing any competitive game with him.

It’s hard to find, but when he can he’ll make you a cup of coffee. He technically doesn’t need it, but he can remember how much human Nick liked it, and you probably deserved it.

On days that aren't busy, Nick will turn the radio on and you’ll teach each other how to dance to certain songs until Travis mentions something that seems sketchy enough to look into.

#fallout 4 #fo4 fanfic #fo4 headcanons #fo4 #nick valentine #fallout nick #nick valentine fo4 #fo4 nick valentine #fallout nick valentine #nick valentine fallout 4 #nick valentine x sole survivor #nick valentine x reader #nick valentine headcanons #nick headcanons #fo4 nick headcanons #fo4 nick valentine headcanons

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harveywritings92 · 11 months ago

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Nick: You know those moments when I tell you something isn’t a good idea?

Sole: And then I ignore you, yeah.

#S: unknown #fallout 4 #fallout incorrect quotes #fallout 4 incorrect quotes #nick valentine #sole survivor #gn sole survivor #gn reader #nick valentine x sole survivor #nick valentine x reader #fo4

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dorkofclanlavellan · 6 months ago

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Giggly Sleepyhead (Fallout Preference)

Fandom: Fallout 4 Request: x Pairings: Cooper x Reader, Danse x Reader, Hancock x Reader, Valentine x Reader Trigger Warning: Tooth rotting sweetness.

Cooper Howard

His reaction depends on a couple of different details, honestly.

Pre-War!Coop would just find you adorable and smile as he totes or leads you to bed.

He'd make you giggle some more, both accidentally and on purpose. And of course he'd tease you a little about it.

If you're together after he becomes a Ghoul, he's not as amused by it. He'd seem annoyed and huffy though the longer you're in your relationship the more his annoyed demeanor becomes an obvious act.

He'd roll his eyes and pull you closer to him with a groan but the corners of his mouth would subtly quirk up.

Danse

This man would definitely raise an eyebrow. Sure Danse is familiar with some people being giggly when sleepy but he doesn't really get it.

He's not really grumpy when sleepy but he is more no-nonsense.

Although he can't deny that you are kind of adorable giggling and grinning for little reason. And your giggly nature has taught him how to tell when you definitely need some sleep.

The second you start giggling more than normal, he'd make sure to get you to bed and no funny business.

And he's learned to choose his words very carefully when you're sleepy. Otherwise you'll be cackling for several minutes at any incidental double entendres.

Hancock

Oh he would definitely enjoy you being giggly when you're sleepy.

In fact he enjoys it almost too much. Absolutely revels in the knowledge and you're going to regret him finding out. In the best way of course.

He'd egg you on until you're clutching your sides and red in the face from laughing so much. You'd definitely end up out of breath.

Only then would he show you any sort of mercy and pull you onto his lap or closer to him if you're already in bed.

Then he'd start rubbing your back or playing with your hair and occasionally, usually right as your eyes close, he'd say something else that gets you giggling again.

Valentine

He's aware that some people get giggly when sleepy but nothing prepped him for you giggling at everything while struggling to keep your eyes open.

He'll set aside his work and usher you off to bed once he realizes what's going on.

He'll be shaking his head and suppressing a grin but he makes sure you're tucked in with a bottle of water nearby.

"If you don't stop giggling, I'll just have to read you all these reports and paperwork that I'm working on." It's a threat he ends up having to carry out every time.

And it works...almost every time. The more boring the reports, the quicker you nod off.

#fallout #fallout 4 #fallout show #fallout headcanons #fallout preferences #request #requests open #cooper howard x reader #paladin danse x reader #john hancock x reader #nick valentine x reader #cute and fluffy

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blackmoonowl · 2 months ago

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can you do a sfw alphabet for the synth detective please? 😼🙏

SFW Alphabet - Nick Valentine

Fallout 4 x reader

𝐀 = 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

‪‪❤︎‬ Nick Valentine prefers to keep things classy when it comes to affection. He's not all over you, but he enjoys having at least some form of contact with you. The synth likes showing you off, his beautiful partner.

‪‪❤︎‬ Usually it's a hand on your lower back, holding your hand or linking arms together. Sometimes he'll press his cold synthetic lips against your temple for good measure, if you'll allow it.

𝐁 = 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

‪‪❤︎‬ You're not just his best friend, you're a fellow detective now. He loves having you with him whilst he investigates. The two of you have each others back. It makes the miserable wasteland and circumstances a little better.

‪‪❤︎‬ It likely starts shortly after you saved him from vault 114. He's interested as to why someone would come to save a old robot detective. Nick quickly becomes invested in your story, in who you are. After that it happens quick, you become someone to rely on, someone to help him bring justice to the Commonwealth.

𝐂 = 𝐂𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬 (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

‪‪❤︎‬ Not an absolute need for him, if you don't want to cuddle then that's okay for him too. He doesn't really feel anything, but he'd still enjoy cuddling you, purely due to the knowledge you're comfortable and close with him.

‪‪❤︎‬ Valentine prefers laying on his back with you beside hm, your arm across his torso. He can hold you close whilst reading or doing something else whilst you rest.

𝐃 = 𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

‪‪❤︎‬ Nick Valentine would love to settle down with you in Diamond city, as close as a pre war life as he can get. You both have a job and a cozy little home to return to. It's perfect in a way rarely found in the wasteland.

‪‪❤︎‬ He can cook okay. He doesn't eat, so he usually doesn't bother, but you wouldn't die eating his cooking. Decent at cleaning as well, he keeps his space tidy and always organizes his things so he knows where to find them.

𝐄 = 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

❤︎ Nick would put it bluntly, but wouldn't be rude. He's disappointed things didn't work out, but he'd like to avoid drama as much as possible. Maybe the two of you could still be friends, but this clearly doesn't work.

❤︎ Handles the break up okay. He doesn't like it, he's not happy, but he can live with it. Nick doesn't have any ill will towards you, but he does feel let down. He also prefers some distance for the time being.

𝐅 = 𝐅𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞(𝐞) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

❤︎ Nick would like to have a committed relationship. He's old fashioned like that, marriage is definitely his end goal. After all, the two of you can just have a small ceremony in Diamond city and go home married.

❤︎ Doesn't rush into it, takes his time. It also depends on how quickly you want to get married. He'd like to at least wait a couple months before he pops the question, but he takes your wishes into consideration as well. If it were up to him, he'll get on one knee during your one year anniversary,

𝐆 = 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

❤︎ Physically gentle. Nick really doesn't want to cause you any pain or discomfort, and the last thing he needs is more damage done to his body. He prefers always being gentle when it comes to touch.

❤︎ Emotionally he sometimes likes to mess around a bit with sarcastic comments. He knows your boundaries and won't cross them, but that won't stop a smartass comment slipping out every now and then.

𝐇 = 𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐬 (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

❤︎ Nick Valentine likes hug a decent amount, he's not the worlds biggest fan of them, but in moderation he appreciates them. Once again he doesn't feel anything, but he still enjoys holding you close to him.

❤︎ One of his arms goes around your back, planting the hand on your lower back, the other hand cradles the back of your head as he holds you close to him.

𝐈 = 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (How fast do they say the L-word?)

❤︎ Not immediately. Nick really wants to mean it when he says it. The first time it comes out of him is during a love filled confession, your hand in his. When the time is right and he's certain on how he feels towards you.

❤︎ After that he says it in passing moments. When he kisses your temple before he leaves on a case, when he comes back after solving one. The moment doesn't really matter to him as much as assuring you that you're the one for him.

𝐉 = 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲 (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

❤︎ Nick isn't that jealous. He gets annoyed when people hit on you, but it's not really because he feels threatened. If you love him, you'll shut it down. If you don't, he knows he's not your priority. Last thing he wants is to come off as overbearing.

❤︎ When he does get jealous, he'll step in with a cynical remark to whoever irritated him, linking his arm with yours. Or he'll make sure to subtly emphasize the fact he's your partner.

𝐊 = 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

❤︎ Nick Valentine has a preference to kiss you on the temple or cheek. It's something he does whilst he walks past you, busy with one thing or another.

❤︎ As for where he likes to be kissed, he likes you kissing him on the lips. Soft, quick pecks are a quick way to put a smile on the old synths face,

𝐋 = 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 (How are they around children?)

❤︎ He's fond of children. He can't bring himself to dislike the little rascals. You can easily leave him alone with any kids and he'll take on a responsible role. As long as they're not scared of the way he looks, he can easily keep them in line.

❤︎ The detective is a robot and can't have any kids of his own, but he would be a pretty good stepdad, if not slightly strict. He's someone your kid can rely on no matter what.

𝐌 = 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 (How are mornings spent with them?)

❤︎ Valentine is usually the one waking you up in the morning. Since he doesn't sleep, he's usually the one getting things ready while you sleep in. It's not uncommon for him to have breakfast ready for you when you get up.

❤︎ He usually gives you some time to wake up before he starts talking about any possible work the two of you need to get done today. The synth understands you need more time to be fully there.

𝐍 = 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 (How are nights spent with them?)

❤︎ Nick joins you in your nightly routine despite not needing to. He'll sit with you during dinner, lean on the wall talking to you as you wash yourself and brush your teeth. He likes seeing you do mundane things, it never gets old for him.

❤︎ Usually the two of you spend some time alone, either in your bed or sitting on an old couch. Sometimes it's you playing on your pipboy while he works on his cases, or you simply talk to each other until you drift off.

𝐎 = 𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧 (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

❤︎ Nick doesn't open up to you immediately. He doesn't see why he should drop his entire life story on some random vault dweller he's helping. Your plate is full, he doesn't need to add to it with his own problems.

❤︎ But when he sees how willing you are to help him out, he'll ask for your help. He needs peace of mind, he needs Eddie Winters gone before he can move on. The moment you agree to help,

𝐏 = 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 (How easily angered are they?)

❤︎ Nick is decently patient. He doesn't just flip out and let his anger get the best of him. Although he'll let you know when he's upset, he tries to put it calmly the first time around.

❤︎ If he's really pissed, expect far more cynical and sarcastic comments from him. Best to let him cool off and then talk about what happened like adults.

𝐐 = 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐞𝐬 (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

❤︎ Nick is a bit forgetful, but he is pretty perceptive to what you say. I mean he's a detective, so he naturally picks up on the small things. He'll make sure to remember every important thing you tell him.

❤︎ Sometimes he writes it down, his desk has a small stack of notes with your favorite foods, drinks, your favorite spot to go in the Commonwealth and things you said you still needed.

𝐑 = 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

❤︎ Nick could honestly call all your outings his favorites and not be lying. He loves spending time with you no matter the circumstance.

❤︎ But if he really had to pick one, he'll pick a date the two of you went on in Diamond city. It wasn't anything big, you just headed to the Dugout inn so you could get a few drinks and enjoy the atmosphere. Seeing you so relaxed and having fun is his all time favorite.

𝐒 = 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲 (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

❤︎ Nick knows you can hold your own, and he's not overbearing by any means. He'd still keep an eye out for your own safety. He'll use his connections to keep an ear out to make sure no one has it out for you, and he's joined you to save your hide a few times.

❤︎ You have pulled some risky stunts to help Nick out. If the synth had the ability to, he would have had a heart attack a long time ago given your antics. He prefers you just verbally protect him from anti synth crap.

𝐓 = 𝐓𝐫𝐲 (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

❤︎ He loves taking you out on dates, it's the perfect way to unwind for him. there aren't much date spots to take you out to, but he'll find fun wherever he can find. He'll also do his best with every day tasks, keeping everything clean whilst you're asleep.

❤︎ This man has a special place in his non existent heart for anniversaries. Every year he makes sure to plan something nice for the two of you to do. At least one time an evening got derailed to a surprise murder mystery case.

𝐔 = 𝐔𝐠𝐥𝐲(What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

❤︎ Really forgetful, like I said before. His memory is limited and it's not uncommon for him to forget things you told him, or events the two of you went through together. He feels bad about it, but it's not something he can help.

❤︎ Gets a bit too invested in his cases sometimes. He'll sometimes spend days mulling over a case, completely frustrated over something he seems to be missing that he doesn't have much time for you.

𝐕 = 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 (How concerned are they with their looks?)

❤︎ The guy is practically falling apart, and it's the end of the world outside. Good looks and appearing fancy aren't exactly his main concerns. His suit has been patched up a few times and his synthetic skin is somewhat filthy.

❤︎ That being said it's not like he's a total slob. He still tries to make himself look presentable to you. Just don't expect prince charming, he's still just an old synth.

𝐖 = 𝐖𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

❤︎ Valentine can hold his own pretty well. That being sad, he would be a lot less content without you in his presence. You made his mundane life so much brighter, you made him realize he was his own person, after all.

❤︎ Sometimes he does things from his old routine, finding himself by your bedside, only to remember that you're no longer occupying it. Or he buys an extra bowl of noodles, forgetting that you're no longer there to join Ellie in eating them.

𝐗 = 𝐗𝐭𝐫𝐚 (A random headcanon for them.)

❤︎ Sometimes talks to you about the pre war world. He didn't experience it himself, but he still holds the memories. Sometimes he'll ask about certain things from the original Nick's memory, it bring him a sense of comfort.

❤︎ For a second one, if you have technological skills, he'd trust you to help with maintenance of his body. Sometimes it's just an excuse to have you close to him, though.

𝐘 = 𝐘𝐮𝐜𝐤 (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

❤︎ He wouldn't tolerate a nasty attitude or cruelty towards others. The wasteland is a miserable enough place as is, and you really aren't helping. He'll give you a few warnings before he becomes completely fed up with you.

❤︎ Predjudice, especially if you're in the Brotherhood. If you have a hatred towards synths and ghouls, then what is he to you? It leaves a hypothetical bad taste in his mouth.

𝐙 = 𝐙𝐳𝐳 (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

❤︎ Nick doesn't sleep, instead he tries to get work done whilst you're off snoozing. He likes working on cases and searching files whilst he's in the room with you. Having you close to him feels comforting and he can keep an eye out for any danger.

❤︎ Sometimes he sits in bed with you, letting you wrap your arms around his synthetic body whilst he reads or simply watches you. He'll brush the hair out of your face, rub your shoulder or place his arm around you.

#nick valentine x reader #fo4 nick valentine #fo4 nick valentine x reader #fallout #fallout 4 #nick valentine #nick valentine x sole survivor

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adlers-left-hand-dude · 3 months ago

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So we can keep men as pets now........

I love it😁

(I still rather have Hancock or valentine following me though)

#fallout 3 #fallout show #fallout 4 #fallout new vegas #fallout #travis miles #john hancock x sole survivor #john hancock x reader #john hancock #nick valentine x reader #nick valentine x sole survivor #nick valentine #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #xbox

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sinisterexaggerator · 29 days ago

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Summary: Nick Valentine hardly ever leaves your thoughts, but you're barely on his radar. Your infatuation takes a rather interesting turn; you're caught red-handed in his bed, wearing candy apple lipstick and a freshly laundered dress. What is to become of you? Will you be able to confess your feelings, or will you run away instead?

Warning: NSFW / 18+ for masturbation/being caught in the act, kissing, cunnilingus, fingering, mild wire play, angst, drama, "love" confessions, and sass.

Word count: 5.9K

Notes: I may make a part two for this after "you" get to know each other a little better. I don't see Nick letting just anybody play with his innards all willy-nilly, but I had a lot of fun writing it!

Read on Ao3

It wasn’t an eyesore, and neither was the Synth who owned it, luminescent neon laid out in letters, an arrhythmic fluctuation in voltage causing a delay in current every three point five seconds—you had counted.

How could a man with the last name Valentine—whose brand was marked with a heart pierced by Cupid’s arrow—not see the underlying machinations from which your attention spurred?

He was a detective, no less, unable to work out your motivations, not understanding that every nuance—every quirk of your lips, every gleam in your eye, every smile—was for him, because of him, and that you had long ago fallen for his wit, his charm, his mind, and for his heart.

A man who wasn’t a man—thrown together in some lab—though that needn’t be your concern. It mattered little if he was flesh and bone or biomechanical, though his kind was greatly feared and for good reason.

Nick was different, he was a diamond in the rough of Diamond City, shining more brightly than even the Valentine Detective Agency’s ostentatious signage. A do-gooder who never tired, a being whose higher purpose rested not with himself, but with others, giving more to the people of the Commonwealth than they rightfully deserved.

For all the hate, intolerance, and ignorance Nick dealt with on the daily, he dished out love, empathy and acceptance in equal measure, though he was not one to take an insult lying down.

He was also passionate; fiery beneath a calm and collected disposition, his habitually stoic makeup a steadying force and welcomed counterbalance to the restless biome that flourished within these walls.

It was when he spoke to you the first time that you became enamored with his personality, whether artificial, finding him to be bold and charismatic. He had asked what brought you to the neighborhood—you were a trader who lost your caravan, your guards, nothing left but the caps in your pocket.

Luckily for you, a man named Arturo Rodriguez had been contemplating the idea of extending his hours for quite some time, his competition employing a salvaged Mister Handy named Percy to sell goods even in the dead of night—it was a case of being in the right place at the right time, one you were thankful for.

It became engrained into his subroutine, these evening visitations, Nick sharing bits and pieces of his history with you for a lack of customers, though oftentimes short and sweet as he kept himself busy. There was always a new crime to be investigated, or a new case to be solved.

Truth be told, the detective was worried about you—a solitary woman—being out there by your lonesome at such late hours. All kinds of riffraff ushered themselves in off the streets, not caring what time of the day it was.

Diamond City was a safe haven as much as it was a magnet for undesirables, those men and women of ill repute that made life difficult for hardworking people just trying to get by. Security could only do so much; it was common for slime to slip through the cracks, portions of the city less fortified than others.

Still, Nick felt Arturo ought to be ashamed, getting a broad to do his dirty work. Little did he know this job had been a godsend, or that you were tougher than a two-dollar steak and twice as hard to chew.

Call him a gentleman, but Valentine, on more than one occasion, had gone out of his way unbeknownst to you, changing his route home simply to check in on your stall.

“Workin’ hard, or hardly workin’?” Nick had inquired, the corner of his mouth creeping upward to indicate his offhanded chiasmus was merely a good-natured tease.

“You know me,” you had answered back, “total slacker.”

“Stickin’ it to the man, glad to hear it,” he would drawl, voice dry and deadpan yet soothing to the ears. Even though Nick was cordial with Arturo, he didn’t mind having a joke at his expense.

“Doing my part,” you replied, wishing he’d step closer, wishing he would stay and chat a while.

“Stay out of trouble, doll,” he’d warn, tipping the brim of his hat; you were in awe at how a single monosyllabic word could drive you toward such filthy imaginings as you were then, reveling in that passing instant he had paid you mind.

Mission accomplished, Nick would wander off to park himself at the Agency, unaware that for the rest of the night your mind was wholly occupied by impure thoughts—and it was all his fault. It was ridiculous that a simple term of endearment expressed so casually could nearly short-circuit your human brain, yet here you were.

Could he make love to you if you asked? Would he touch you if you begged him to?

You supposed his existence was an adventurous one, wishing you could participate in something other than this humdrum life, though you assumed you ought to be grateful you were alive at all.

But it unnerved you—angered you to no end— to hear the drivel that oozed like poison from out the mouths of bigots when they spoke of Nick Valentine in his absence. They declared he was not sentient, that an intelligence such as his was naïve to think of itself as self-aware, as if they were any more autonomous than he, choosing to act of their own free-will by way of insults and disgraceful slurs.

Arturo had been accommodating, allowing you the top floor of his home until you could get on your feet. Such things were heard from rooftops, echoing beyond thin strips of sheet metal to leech its way into your ears. You roosted, enjoying the wide-open view of the sky and the clouds drifting by, only for your mood to sour, tempted to shout obscenities at the offender—usually Myrna— from your place in the dark.

You valued Nick’s company despite the rumors or the gossip about the Institute, ignoring the fact he was a Synth. You wondered if something was wrong with you, finding your short exchanges to be a thousand times more stimulating than any discourse with your neighbors—Valentine’s smile alone was worth more than all the caps in the world.

You often daydreamed about his cybernetic eyes looking down at you from your place atop his mattress, bright as sunbeams, imbued with radiant golden light. They were the windows to his soul—and you were convinced he had one— no one could tell you otherwise.

Then, more questions came. Could man love machine? Could machine love man? Ethical quandaries that knew no bounds. Those of narrow minds might call it an abomination in the eyes of God, while for others it might cause confusion, or effectuate ridicule.

Somehow, none of that would matter, not if Nick returned what was undeniably blossoming into not just admiration, but desire. Could Synths feel desire? Could androids dream?

And the man did flirt, if only feigning attraction, but not with you—you did not assume you were boring or undesirable, but you carried yourself the opposite of Piper, or even his assistant, Ellie. These women were always present in his life, women you tried not to be jealous of, though the ease with which they spoke, the familiarity of their years together ate away at you, knowing you might never reach the level of intimacy you so craved.

Besides, nothing good came of getting close to someone in this day and age, yet you wanted to be—scared of heartbreak, of them being stolen from you too soon, or of being sorely disappointed should they show themselves to be something other than what you thought them to be. There were risks at every turn; you had to decide—would you ever be brave enough to tell him how you felt?

Then, one day, you heard about the love between Ms. Edna and Mr. Zwicky, a robot and a human getting married of all things—it’s what prompted you to stand outside Nick’s door right this very moment, staring long enough at the glowing, heart-shaped outline for it to be burned into your retinas.

The sun was sinking just beyond the wall, Diamond City winding down as its citizens took shelter in their homes or closed up shop—it was thankfully one of your nights off.

You couldn’t get it out of your head, the very idea of a single touch, a single kiss—an affectionate word shared, a smile meant just for you. To make him smile would be the most gratifying thing of all. Too often Valentine looked glum, his thoughts weighing on him, dragging him down along with all the horrors that came with living in a post-apocalyptic society.

To kiss it away, to ensconce him in your embrace—to make him forget he wasn’t human, if only for a few minutes—your heart raced at all the possibilities, all he had to do was let you in.

You assumed a knock was in order, deep, slow breaths doing little to calm your nerves. You had adorned a dress for the occasion, something someone had traded for extra ammo. It was soft blue in color, and in relatively good condition. Ultimately, it was clean, and that was all that mattered to you. Arturo had no use for it, so it had wound up in your possession. Now you would wear it to confess, though you were nervous, a wellspring of anxiety having burgeoned behind your ribs.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” you had asked yourself, fingers curling as you raised your arm. After a few more seconds delay, you made a move to rap against the door, painted red to match the sign out front. There was just one problem—it opened before you could, Ellie’s eyes widening as she jerked a step backward, the woman obviously on her way out.

She said your name, denoting her surprise. You would quickly apologize, already on edge.

“Sorry, Ellie, I—” You paused, averting your eyes to stare at the ground that had suddenly become so interesting. “I was hoping to see Nick,” you bashfully admitted.

The woman quirked a brow, amused for some unknown reason, as if she was in on your little secret just by the way you carried yourself. You attempted to straighten up, offering her a smile to throw her off your scent; you weren’t sure that it was working, though she was kind enough not to comment.

“He stepped out a few hours ago,” she informed you, “but he should be back any minute. You can wait here if you like, but I promised Cathy I’d go have a drink with her.” Ellie gave a halfhearted laugh, “apparently she needs a night out away from her husband.”

“Al-all right,” you managed, supposing Nick was hardly ever “home,” what with being hired for everything under the sun from finding missing cats to tracking down murderers—you only hoped for his safe and swift return.

“I’ll leave the door unlocked,” she offered, holding it open; you timidly stepped forward, Ellie giving you a small wave on her way out.

It was not until that moment you realized you had never stepped foot inside Valentine’s Detective Agency, something you felt ashamed of—maybe he assumed you had no interest in his work. The thought caused a frown to form, but you didn’t want to lose track of why you were here, though finding no harm in taking a look around.

You were respectful, not having it in you to snoop or pry, no matter how many folders lay open or scattered about his desk. There were copies of old newspapers, the latest from Publick Occurrences, rusty filing cabinets, overloaded cardboard boxes, and clipboards with scribbled notes attached.

You spied holotapes of unknown origin, scraps of memorabilia from times long since passed. Items you could only guess at—clues, maybe? Not to mention an assortment of tools, perhaps left over from Nick’s days as a handyman—he’d told you stories, though the idea made you uncomfortable, somehow—the Synth reduced to making household repairs when he was a being of such remarkable intelligence.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, having found yourself sitting at the man’s cluttered workspace. You stared at the painting before you, a tranquil forest scene that had been tarnished by years of grime and dust. A half-smoked cigarette in a nearby ashtray caught your eye; you surprised yourself by picking it up, placing the filter between lips painted a pretty candy apple red, having decorated yourself with a little lipstick for the occasion—you could hardly think of a better time to wear it.

The stale scent of nicotine invaded your nostrils, its taste pungent on your tongue. You struck a match against its book, wanting to experience something that had graced Nick’s synthetic lips, if you couldn’t do so firsthand.

Smoke drifted toward the ceiling, diffusing in loose curls above your head as you exhaled, feeling yourself becoming aroused by your salacious daydreams. You leaned back in Nick’s chair with a faint smile, closing your eyes to more clearly picture his face.

Your free hand groped your own breast, teeth biting down on tender flesh, imagining what it might be like for Valentine’s mechanical fingers to touch you; would it feel cold like metal, or warm like machinery? Sharp like the point of a knife, or smooth like purified silver?

You sighed with longing, chest rising and falling as you stared at the ceiling. You took another drag, finding the burn to be unpleasant as the cigarette reached its end. You bent forward and extinguished it in that same ashtray—Nick would never know the difference—forgetting your lipstick would leave a stain behind.

You normally weren’t one to smoke, feeling slightly buzzed upon standing, riding the tiny high the nicotine gave you as you spied a small space off to your right; you had yet to explore it. There was nothing to keep you out, no locks, no warning signs; you tiptoed forward, as if committing a crime that warranted the use of stealth, peeking around the corner to find a staircase, and a bed.

You glanced upward through the cracks in the floorboards; another mattress was positioned above you, but the personal effects scattered about on the bottom floor let you know this was Nick’s corner, the file folders and spare fedora on his nightstand giving it away.

You snatched the hat, twirling it over in your hands. It was one you hadn’t seen him wear too often, but that was in better condition than the one he sported on the regular, having the bold idea to place it directly on your head.

Of course, there was no mirror to admire yourself in.

You would just have to use your imagination, skimming the rim with two fingers, just like Valentine. You tipped the brim to no one, spinning once to let the full skirt of your pre-war dress swirl around your calves. Feeling pretty, you plopped down gracefully on Nick’s bare bed, wondering if Arturo might have a spare set of sheets you could gift him—did Synths sleep, you wondered? Did Nick lie here awake at night, staring at this same ceiling as you were now?

You sighed, tipping the hat lower, catching onto the unusual scent embedded within its fibers. You pressed your nose against faded leather, inhaling deeply of this strange fragrance, idly twisting bits of clean cotton, not used to wearing something so delicate and fancy; it felt odd, but the texture, the softness of the dress suited you.

This hat smelled like tobacco; ozone; coolant. Like a musty bar mixed with cigarettes. Like metal; like something organic; like wet earth after a radstorm—all things that in combination were uniquely Nick. It pulled a sigh from your lungs, loins aching for the Synth worse than ever, wishing that Valentine might show himself before you chickened out.

You thought to leave the bed; unpredicted were the moves you made to hike your dress up, legs spreading open as you gathered the excess bits of skirt into a fist. You held it to the height of your navel, exposing yourself before you had any real grasp on what you were doing, sliding the palm of your hand past your waist and hips, introducing two fingers to the elastic hem of your panties.

You grinned a little grin, feeling unlike yourself; naughty, for lack of a better word, inching your way beneath its thin layer to brush against your clit. You cooed a little sound, hips gyrating gently as you got comfortable, one of your two fingers gliding down, taking up a measure of your slick.

You massaged that part of you just begging for it, pinpricks of pleasure causing your nerves to tingle as the sensation traveled, extracting a subdued moan from bowed lips. You had the nerve to giggle, entertained in more ways than one, letting Nick’s hat fall flat against your face as you breathed in deeply, working that excitable nub in slow circles, taking your time.

You were just getting started, body reacting in tandem with your touch, exhilarated beyond comprehension at this singular act of bawdy desperation. You were where you always envisioned yourself to be, though now you conjured up something else—what some might call an abject fantasy, one where you explored the body of a robotic man to your heart’s content.

Smooth, hard flesh, or pliable and soft, warm against you, or cold like ice. Exposed wires and eyes stolen from the crown’s of angels, twin halos you would kill a man to see up close. Lips too kissable for one who wasn’t human, tongue and teeth all there, or between your legs. Metallic fingers, dexterous and nimble, the other good for groping all your biologic parts.

You were so close already, wondering if you might in some way be able to please him back. Would he have a cock you could stroke or suck? Could you dig around inside him? Could you find a button, or perhaps a jumble of loose wires to fondle, one that would make his machine-parts whir?

You covered your face more thoroughly with one arm, the fedora hiding you from your own shame. You pushed your hips into the bed as you felt the onset of an orgasm building in the seat of your belly, almost there, almost—

“Say, am I interrupting something?”

You practically screamed, throwing the fedora off with such speed it hit the bed and bounced. You shoved your dress down, embarrassed beyond belief, mortified as much as you were frightened, your heart racing as you pushed up off the Nick’s mattress and ran for the stairs. He had been so quiet—maybe there was a way out of here, up there. You would never live this down.

“Hey, now,” Nick chided, his voice taking on an austere quality that caused a bout of horripilation, the micro hairs on your arms standing at attention; the Synth had locked the fingers of his good hand around your wrist, pulling you back down to his level before pressing your body against the wall of his abode. He tilted his head, studying you with rapt attention and an almost morbid curiosity—he doubted you were some kind of adrenaline junkie, or even an exhibitionist for that matter.

“You think you can just waltz in here and use my bed to pleasure yourself without some kind of explanation? I’ve seen some things in my day, but this takes the cake.”

You could not face him, averting your eyes. His accusatory gaze was powerful, the catalyst for your tears, tiny droplets threatening to roll down your cheeks as you stammered a reply. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean t—”

“—You didn’t mean to masturbate?” Nick questioned, a sardonic tone lacing his old-world, Midwestern accent. “I find that hard to believe.”

There was a pause, Nick’s metallic fingers grasping you by the point of your chin. He gently guided you to face him, tears and all, his voice softening as he realized how sorry you seemed to be, though he was still skeptical.

He called you by your name, addressing you calmly, “at least be honest with me—this how you get your rocks off, or is this some kind of special occasion? If Ellie was here—”

“—she was the only who let me in,” you whispered, Nick so tantalizingly close, yet you were beside yourself in self-abasing horror at your own actions—how could you have been so stupid!? Of course he would find out, sooner or later—he was a private eye, a damn good one! Not to mention this was his place of business, his assistant trusting you well enough to behave yourself. You suddenly felt worse than before; you were sure he had seen everything.

“Huh,” Nick snorted, the gears of his artificial brain beginning to turn toward another direction. “Why the hell would she go and do a thing like that?"

You took a breath and gulped, finally having the courage to look, to get lost in the depths of those parhelic circles he called eyes, wishing to speak, to find the right words, yet it was nearly impossible with the way he had so easily ensnared you.

“Cat got your tongue? Beginning to wonder just how many lights are on upstair—"

You steeled yourself; you kissed him rather than giving an explanation, wondering if this was another thing you would come to regret, though sparks danced behind your eyelids—worried for one moment they might be real, some side effect of physical contact—Nick forcing you off to where your back was returned to its spot against his bedroom wall.

They had been warm; his lips were warm.

“Oh, I get it now. You came here thinking you’d shoot your shot, but when I wasn’t home you got carried away in some sick fantasy, is that it? Decided to rub one out,” he derided, laying your sins out before you so coldly that your lip trembled; you struggled to break free.

“Valentine, please—"

“Could have just waited for me,” he offered; you froze with bated breath, his words having taken an unexpected turn—could he be serious, or was he simply toying with you as punishment?

“Gal like you isn’t exactly hard on the eyes…”

“You’re not upset?” you asked breathily, chest heaving, wide, round eyes searching his for confirmation.

“Upset you thought you could get away with this,” he muttered, brushing his mouth against yours, Nick’s skeletal hand holding your chin steady. Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine that he would indulge you, feeling yourself melt against the solid brick of his Diamond City home. “Not exactly a secret you fancy me; can read it all over your face, just never thought you’d have the guts to do a thing like this.”

“I couldn’t help it,” you pleaded, your own hand lifting, exploring the texture of his tattered coat, rising higher to caress the portion of his flesh still intact just below the fissure that extended beyond the brim of his hat. “Then why didn’t you say something? I only meant to tell you how you make me feel,” you whispered, eagerly returning that kiss, introducing your wet human tongue to his.

“How’s that?” he asked, ignoring the first part of your question—he wasn’t about to tell you you’d have to make the first move, he didn’t have to—his inviolate hand sliding down the dip in your waist to rest against your hip. He gave it a squeeze, aware of his own strength, applying just enough pressure to excite you, no more, no less.

“Ravenous,” you exclaimed, hiking your leg, encircling him to draw in close like you were playing the part of some wily seductress in a pre-war film. You emitted a dulcet moan, digits inching across the back of his head, taking the time to kiss Valentine more deeply in your lust.

Nick was quick, supporting your ass in his firm grip, securing your leg as he pressed his inorganic frame against yours that was supple and pliant; he met your hunger head on. “Good thing I know a trick or two.”

You shivered with anticipation, despite the Synth being almost hot to the touch. Silicone fingers disappeared up your long, flowing skirt, but only after he was sure you were both comfortably entangled.

Valentine kissed a question up the side of your neck toward lipstick-laden lips. “You wear this for me?” he asked, motioning his head toward your bartered dress.

“Y-yes,” you stammered, grasping his tie, feeding your words directly into his smug mouth. “Wanted to look pretty for you,” you conceded.

“Only thing more lovely than a bird in blue is a woman who wears her confidence like a second skin. Tell me you didn’t walk in here thinkin’ you could pull me, or are you just a nightingale pretending to be a peacock, flaunting your feathers, yet too afraid to show me your true colors?”

You were floored; you could not answer, having hoped that you could sway him, but doubting your plan from the get-go. You dare not tell him, too shy to admit your shortcomings, and too proud to acknowledge he had hit the nail on the head. Instead, you stared unabashedly, even as your cheeks burned, swallowing down the knot in your throat as you remained transfixed on eyes that glowed like candles in the dark.

“Too bad,” Valentine teased, rousing you from your stupor by way of calculated movements beneath your dress, “Suppose I’ll have to find out the hard way.”

Your breath hitched as the tips of faux fingers thoughtfully guided your panties to one side, Valentine expertly trailing his forefinger through your excess to the top of your slit. The Synth grazed the swollen sheath of glands pulsating adamantly between your legs, finding his rhythm, administering just enough friction to get a rise out of you, as intended.

“Nick,” you gasped, the fingers of one hand still cinched around his tie as the fingers of the other clawed into false flesh. He slid back down, following that happy little trail of slickness, its viscosity registering as wet against microscopic sensors, Nick’s index finger delving into something so moist, so soft.

“Speak to me, sweetheart. Tell me how long you’ve dreamt of this; tell me this isn’t some dime-store hookup you’re using to scratch an itch; tell me this means somethin’, I dare you,” he growled darkly into your ear.

You could only whimper as he worked you, aiming for the seat of your pleasure, Nick’s thumb running concentric circles around your turgid clit in perfect unison with that part of him that was introducing pressure to your G-spot. You had the gall to rock your hips, balancing like a flamingo on one leg, though he held you close between himself and the wall, not once allowing you to think you might stumble and fall.

“Always think of you, where you are, what you’re up to,” you breathed. “Never leave my mind.”

“What else?” he asked, brazenly steeping another finger, your soaked cunt riding both together as you shamelessly kept undulating your pelvic arch, already so near to climax.

“Dreamt of kissing you, making love to you. Wanted to know what touching you might feel like, warm, co-cold,” you moaned. “If you could ever want me back, if y-you knew just how much I adore you, how much I wish to be the one to make you smile…”

“Is that right?” Nick titillated you toward orgasm without any extra effort, feeling yourself spill out all over him as you vocalized to the heavens, Valentine not relenting until you were spent. Then, he retracted as simple as that, lifting you up, the Synth forcing you to wrap that other leg around him in order to carry you the few feet between him and the bed.

“And did you ever think of what you’d do if I didn’t have the parts?” he began, tossing you carefully onto the mattress. You watched in longing as he shucked his trench off for it to slide down the length of his arms, gathering in a pile at his feet.

“Fuck. It wouldn’t matter,” you insisted, sitting up on the palms of your hands. “It wouldn’t matter,” you repeated more urgently, adjusting to crawl forward, unable to keep yourself from him now that you had a taste.

“And what you’d do if I didn’t reciprocate?” The hat was next, tossed haphazardly off to the side.

You gaped at him, unable to come up with a satisfactory response, scouring his pleasing form from head to toe with your eyes, admiring his shoulder holster, his weapon of choice, and the suspenders that dug into his shoulders.

“I’m more machine than man; typically… disappointing to dames like you. But I’ve got nothing to hide, and I mean that literally,” he quipped, loosening and discarding his tie. What he did next surprised you, Valentine placing one knee on the bed. He pushed you backward, fitting himself right between your thighs.

“Never stopped me before,” he muttered, coercing you to lie back. In the blink of an eye, he had slipped your panties down and off, flipping the tail end of your skirt up and over your lap, exposing the soft mound between your legs.

“It’s like riding a bicycle,” he commented; how to go down on a beautiful woman was not something he would soon forget, no matter he wasn’t in the body he was born with.

You gasped before settling into a melodious moan as he swiped his tongue across your sensitive bud, Nick noticing you were tuned to the key of C, a low-frequency tonal sound that made his robotic brain buzz with something akin to happiness.

Before you knew it, he had buried himself, embedding his articulate tongue in your tepid core. Responsive biosensors did their job of transmitting physiological data concerning the presence of chemical compounds that happened to be coming into contact with his face; the detective was well aware of what that meant without having to overthink it, appreciative of the way you writhed against the bed.

“Valentine,” you mewled, arm reaching, fingers stretching to caress a hinged jaw made of filaments and wires, more unbidden tears finding their way to your eyes.

“Kiss me,” you implored, exploring the sharp contours of his inhumane face, the actuate planes and angles, the rough textures, the smooth remnants, the electrical undercurrent that hummed beneath the surface of his pseudo-flesh, causing you to cry out as he obliged, but not in the way you had expected.

Nick lapped at your cunt like it was a second mouth, attentive to every little move your body made as it wriggled and quivered, spasming with each long lick. He showed no mercy, relentlessly fucking you with his spongy tongue at a slow and steady pace, brushing the back of an alloyed finger along the cut where hip met thigh.

“Please,” you tried again, though in your heart of hearts you did not want him to stop. He refocused on your clit, being oh-so careful as he slid a single metallic digit into your wet pith, tensile fibers remaining elongated so as not to maim and injure, but to experiment, your pelvic muscles clenching around him as he began to suck.

“I can’t,” you professed, unable to elaborate, to stop your mounting orgasm. Your back arched as your hips bucked upward to meet his all too talented mouth, forcing a sound out of you that was reminiscent of pain but indicative of pleasure as you came a second time that night, Nick withdrawing his hand, his carbon-ferrous finger, pulling back to look you in the eye.

“Sweetheart, did I—”

Valentine flexed his unsheathed digits, composed of bare metal, his forefinger saturated and glistening, yet he was worried. His painted brows quirked upward as he rose to meet your face, his palm fitting itself around the curve of your waist, as gentle as can be.

He stared into your soul with those penetrative, aureate eyes, wishing you hadn’t of done that. Wishing he hadn’t of done that—it had been just plain ignorant on his part, but he didn’t figure you’d go and move so suddenly. And truth be told, you were beautiful, a thing too good to pass up. He wasn’t exactly a hot commodity these days, though a part of him—the inhuman part—didn’t think he was worth it.

Still, it was a difficult thing to just give up when he had urges, needs, wants, desires—or at least he thought he did. It was hard to tell where the real Nick began and Synth Nick ended, but for now he was experiencing an emotion that was real enough to give him pause.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly, his mood turning toward something serious, Valentine wondering if he had caused anything irreparable. He didn’t think he could live with himself if he’d gone and hurt an innocent—especially like this—despite the fact he wasn’t exactly alive to begin with.

You did not answer, studying the change in his demeanor, observing as his tough guy persona disappeared to be replaced by the sweet, caring man you had grown to cherish over the past few months.

He was two sides of the same coin, but you had known that going in, purposefully trailing your fingers across denuded metal toward a gathering of thick red wires, caressing the coils between the gap in his neck with the utmost tenderness.

“I’ve never been better,” you promised, appraising the look of quiet bliss that overtook him, realizing this sort of thing might be his little secret—he came back to himself just in time to put a halt to your investigation, the Synth oddly silent as he searched for something deep within your eyes.

“But I want to make you feel good,” you offered with a genuine pout, but Nick held fast to your wrist, going back to how this whole game had started. His apprehension was clear, the detective reading like an overdue library book. You couldn’t help but feel a little sad, a little disappointed, instead climbing onto his lap, draping yourself over his sound thighs.

“I don’t let just anyone poke around inside me—what makes you think you’ll make the cut?” he asked, slipping a stray bit of hair behind your ear in a gesture so human it made your heart ache.

“I’m not here to hurt you, Nick.” It was the truth.

He’d redirect you for now, but you couldn’t blame him— you were surprised that you had even gotten this far.

“I’ve got a better idea,” he replied. “Tell me something about yourself. What do I need to know besides exactly how you taste?”

You smiled, assuming that one day he might trust you well enough to return the favor.

Baby steps. You could be patient. The only thing that mattered was that at that moment, you had him to yourself.

“I once killed a Yao guai with my bear hands,” you joked, taking the time to notice just how many kiss marks you had left all over him—time to add one more, just to play it safe.

“There they are.”

“What?”

“Your true colors.”

Your lips spread into a mischievous grin.

“On second thought, I think I’m going to need a drink for this.”

At least he hadn’t kicked you out yet.

“That’s fair,” you said.

#Nick Valentine #Nick Valentine x Reader #Nick Valentine x Fem Reader #Fallout 4 #Fo4 #My writing #Fallout smut #Fanfiction #x reader #x you #No this is not a sole survivor fic

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