#nick valentine x you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dez78 · 1 month ago

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Our Girl

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Fandom: Fallout 4

Ship Pairing: Valencock x Fem!SS

Trope: No one touches her

Rating: Adult, cursing, and violent threats from Hancock and Nick

Warnings: SA Trigger Warning! !!Caution!! (Adult 18+) Do not proceed if the following makes you uncomfortable.

Summary: You get assaulted, and your boys come to your rescue and instill fear into the man who hurt their girl.

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You tidied up your lipstick with your middle finger, watching your movements in the worn-out mirror in Nick's office. You wore your usual getup, your vault suit. The material acting as your second skin as it hugged your curves in all the right places, emphasizing certain parts of your figure.

Hancock was walking past you and gave you a firm swat across your ass, you smirked in the mirror and looked back. Hancock hadn't paid you any mind after that; it was a mindless act. You chuckled to yourself, looking back into the mirror.

Then Nick came up behind you and ran both hands up your hips before settling around your waist. He kissed your neck tenderly,

"You sure you wanna wear that outside, sweetheart?" Nick told you. His voice particularly mechanical in that moment as if he was malfunctioning.

"I thought it was only for mine and Hancock's eyes." He said sweetly.

"Nicky, I only have eyes for you two, but I also do love this vault suit. Not only is it comfortable, but it's practical too. It protects me more than regular ole' clothes." You explained, finishing up your look.

You had put your leather armor on already, you were ready to go, all you needed were your guns.

"As you wish, sweetheart." Nick purred as he kissed your jaw before finishing up his own look.

"Gotta say though, sunshine. Any grease ball puts his hands on you, I will personally beat the shit out of him." Hancock warned with a growl. You smiled.

"Let's be real, dollface, I'll do the ass kicking. You'll just stab em." Nick corrected his other partner as he adjusted his tie. Hancock tsked beneath his breath.

"True."

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When the trio was ready, they headed out of the office and into the city. They were heading to Vault 88 for a case. A resident had gone out for a supply run and hadn't returned after the one-week mark.

As they walked through the city, You, as usual got catcalled, despite being in an obvious relationship with both Nick and Hancock.

"Hey, sweetheart! Nice piece you got." A guard whistled at you, You rolled your eyes. your hips had a natural snap to them, you grabbed your arm as you hurried towards the gate, wanting the attention to go away.

"Pay them no mind, doll." Nick huffed with irritation as he caressed your back in an attempt to comfort you.

"Damn girl! I'd pay to clap those!" Another guard howled. Hancock scoffed.

"In your dreams, pal!" He snarled angrily. You sighed as you walked even further ahead. Nick and Hancock sped up. Just in time to catch a guy's wrist. He was about to get lucky with slapping his woman's ass.

"Hands off, pal. If you know what's good for you." Hancock growled deep as he got in the guy's face. The man snorted and walked away. The ghoul shook his head and caught up with his partners.

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When they arrived at Vault 88, the lewd comments and crude gestures started up again. No matter where you went, you couldn't escape the pigs that were men. They haven't changed at all in two hundred years.

You hated being beautiful for this very reason. Men always tried to sleep with you and "score" with you as they say, then discard you like trash. It made you feel like less than nothing. No one ever tried to genuinely get to know your personality. All men and women saw was a pretty face to fuck.

Everyone except Hancock and Nick. They were the first men in your life that genuinely wanted to know you, your personality. They made you feel seen and loved, even when every other man in the world lusted over you. You saw only them.

The comments after a while, seemed to settle. Nick said that they should split off to interview everyone in the case. You and Hancock agreed. Nick took the North wing, Hancock took the east wing, and you got the west wing. The residential area.

You approached a woman,

"I'm here with Valentine, to investigate the missing resident." You explained.

"I'm sorry, I can't talk right now. I'm busy." The vault dweller replied as she hurried off. You sighed, but didn't stop her.

"Hey sugar, sweet piece of ass you got!"

You turned confused. A tall man came up and corned you against the wall. You huffed and turned your eyes away from him.

"You wanna get to know each other better, sweet cheeks?" The man smirked as he grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him.

"You shy, baby girl?" The man purred as he grabbed your jaw, seemingly getting irritated.

"Don't touch me, pig." You said as you jerked away from him, you pushed past him, but he was quick to grab you and slam you against the wall.

"Leaving so soon, baby girl?" The man growled; You huffed. The man smoothed his hands down your waist and down your hips, the same way Nick had this morning, but this time it felt sickening.

You wrinkled your nose, feeling a bit nauseous. The man got even more handsy as he slid his hands up and cupped each breast in the palms of his hands.

"You have beautiful breasts, sweetheart. Mind if I take a peek?" The man smirked deviously. You looked up and spit in his face. He only laughed at you.

He casually unzipped your vault suit, feasting his eyes upon the curve of your breasts, he licked his lips and squeezed one. You slapped his hand away aggressively.

"That's not nice." The man said as he ushered you into the nearest room.

The man slammed you against the wall and unzipped his own vault suit. He forced you to your knees and grabbed a fistful of hair. He held his cock up to your mouth, you refused, turning your head away.

The man tried to push past your lips but couldn't. He got frustrated.

"Open your mouth and suck my dick, you stupid bitch!" He screamed at you, your body trembled and sank into a submission you had never felt. Hancock and Nick never made you feel like this. They were always gentle. This feeling was foreign to you. You started to cry,

"Open up." The man smirked, you obeyed and opened your mouth, the man slid his cock into your mouth and down your throat. You were humiliated. The man threw his head back and groaned,

"Fuck yeah." He breathed as he forced you to bob your head, you gagged and choked, your mascara was starting to run down your cheeks as your eyes filled with tears because of the mass in your mouth. You felt pathetic and sick.

"That's right baby, suck it harder." He growled in pleasure; you got a sudden surge of courage and bit down with all your might. The man screamed and ripped you off him. He snapped your neck back.

"You stupid bitch! That hurt!" He cried as he slapped you across the face, leaving a handprint on your pretty face.

"That's the point, you piece of shit." You spit back. The man laughed,

"You wanna be rough? Let's be rough." He said as he grabbed you by the arms and man handled you. He threw you onto the desk, bending you over it, then he ripped your vault suit off your body and stripping it to your ankles. Leaving you completely exposed and helpless. He held your head against the cold metal.

He slapped your bare ass hard, leaving red handprints. Then he squeezed your flesh, running his hand up your back. He had his way with you, and you were defenseless. You started to panic. He lined his cock up with your ass,

"Let's be rough, girl." He smirked. He poked the rim of your ass with the head of his cock.

"No, please! Stop!" You screamed loudly as you felt the sting of him trying to enter your body.

"Shut up!" The man said with a clenched jaw. You started to sob; you couldn't move.

"Stop! Please! No!" You wailed, feeling the agony of your body stretching to limits that it wasn't supposed to as he pushed the tip into you. You tried to free yourself, but the man was strong.

"Please." You pleaded with throaty sobs as tears streamed down your face uncontrollably.

"Shut your mouth, girl." The man snarled aggressively as he held the back of your neck with all his might, keeping you still.

"STOP!" You screamed in a terrified voice.

Just as the man was ready to sheathe his entire cock into you, the door hissed opened. The man looked up and let you go, pulling out of you and backing away. You looked up and saw Nick and Hancock parading towards the man. Their eyes full of fire.

"You dare lay a hand on our woman!" Hancock screamed, he grabbed the man by the front of his vault suit and slammed him against the wall, while Nick went over to you.

"Oh, you poor thing." Nick said with sympathy as he took off his coat and covered you with it.

"You fucking bastard!" Hancock screamed as he landed a hard punch straight into the man's face. He cried out. He threw the man to the ground.

"Get up you piece of shit! Fight me like a fucking man! Come on!" Hancock yelled.

Nick looked you over and saw bruises forming on your jaw and body. He gently caressed your face where the handprint made home, you winced from the stinging pain.

"Hancock!" Nick snapped,

"What?!" Hancock asked as he looked up for a brief moment,

"Our friend here, left marks on Y/N." Nick growled.

"He had his way with me, Hancock. He made me suck him off." You rasped.

"He slapped me and tried to have anal with me too." You added, feeling much safer now to speak up. Hancock's eyes darkened at that moment as he looked down at the man. He cowered like a bitch.

"You do that to my woman? Huh?!" Hancock screamed as he picked the man up and slammed him against the wall again. He brought up one of his hands as he held the man with the other hand still. He punched him in the face, busting his lip open.

"Answer me, motherfucker!" Hancock howled angrily as he got in the man's face; the man trembled. Hancock felt warmth, he looked down and saw the guy's junk hanging freely as he pissed into his vault suit. Hancock looked up again.

"First you violate my woman, then you piss on my boots!" He wailed, shaking the man, he wasn't so tough now. Hancock rolled his eyes at the pathetic sight. He unsheathed his knife and showed the man the sharp blade.

"I suggest you put that thing away before I cut if off!" He screamed, the man tucked himself away and zipped up his suit. Hancock was digging the tip of the blade into the man's hip. He winced in agony.

"I ever see you on my woman like that again, I'll make you regret it. Lucky for you, doing something to a vault dweller will make it worse for us as outsiders." Hancock explained. He got up to the man's ear and whispered to him while driving the blade deeper, splitting his vault suit and cutting into his hip, the blade slipped into the man's skin because it was so sharp. Hancock never kept a dull blade.

He drew blood and it spilled onto Hancock's fingers and the blade.

"But if I had my way, I'd cut off your dick, then shoved it down your throat before shoving my knife up your ass and twisting the blade all around inside you, until nothing is left, but a paralyzing pain and your insides are pulverized. You got it?" Hancock said in a dark voice. The man looked horrified and nodded his rapidly. He got the message.

"Hancock, love." Nick said, the mayor looked up.

"I don't care if it was uncalled for-"

"I wasn't going to say that." Nick interrupted; Hancock looked a bit surprised.

"Humor me." He spoke.

"He hurt Y/N, let me rough him up a bit." Nick asked. Hancock smirked deviously.

"Oh baby, that's hot." He purred as he stepped back, letting Nick step forward. Purposely the detective used his metal hand to sucker punch the bastard right in the nose. The man wailed. Then he came up and socked him in the jaw with the other hand. Then he grabbed his jaw with his metal hand. He gripped the man's jaw so hard, his skin bruised. He whimpered in agony.

Nick looked right at him; his yellow halos flickered as his anger boiled his insides.

"Hancock's threats are child's play for me, my punishment for you would be a thousand times worse." Nick said, his voice going mechanical.

"I don't know, if you know my story pal. But I was around your kind a lot in the prewar era. I was a cop; you know what that means right?" The detective questioned; the man shook his head.

"Unlike Hancock, I know how the system works." Nick started as he leaned into the man's ear and whispered.

"I could get away with murder."

Nick stepped back and used his good hand to punch the man in the stomach, he fell to the ground. Nick grabbed his hair and snapped his head back.

"Lights out, pal." He said as he landed the hardest punch he ever threw. Knocking the man out cold.

"Fuck babe. That was hot." Hancock howled cheerfully. The two of them then walked over to you.

"You okay, sunshine?" Hancock asked sweetly checking you over with Nick. You nodded slowly, tears trickling down your face. Nick wiped your tears away gently.

"Oh, sweetheart. It's okay now." He reassured you as he held your face tenderly.

"Don't worry, sunshine. That bastard won't touch you ever again. No one will. Not as long as Nicky and I draw breath." Hancock explained.

"Anyone ever tries to harm you again."

"We'll let them know what fear is."

"No one, touches our girl."

#fallout 4 #fallout 4 companions #fallout 4 nick valentine #john hancock #fo4 companions #nick x reader #hancock x reader #valencock #poly romance #fallout 4 female sole survivor #female reader #hancock x you #nick valentine x you

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cheriematt · 9 months ago

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𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 — 𝒎. 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐

wc - reqs ? - nope ! cw - use of y/n , fluff a/n - valentine's day is coming up so i thought i'd cook up sum quite stuff

ᯓ★

— matt's a huge listener , so once valentine's day comes around he's crafting the perfect gifts for you

— though sometimes he overthinks , not sure if you want something that you were talking about a few months ago , he ends up getting it for you anyway

— matt's not a fancy dinner type of guy , but if that's what you want , he's already reserved a table.

— matt's more into smaller , more intimate valentine's days

— he feels that he shows his love better in that aspect

— matt LOVES the little things , anything related to his interests is what he loves to receive

— he does not expect you to get him anything , telling you how appreciative he is and how he's going to keep it forever

" oh my god this is adorable , i'm keeping it forever . thank you so much sweetheart. "

" matt , it's just a paper star i threw in the bag. there's more in there. "

" oh yeah, well, i still love the star. i'm gonna put it on my desk. "

— matt is 1000% a love letter guy , i think he writes them randomly throughout the relationship , but he def writes a really special one for valentine's day

— matt tries so hard keep everything a secret , refusing to give you hints on anything

" c'mon , matt ! what did you get me ? "

" can't tell you sweetheart, you're gonna have to wait. valentine's day is close , so you won't have to wait too long. "

— like i said , matt is a listener , so he's known your favorite type of flower for a while. he definitely gets you flowers regularly , but for valentine's day he gets you a huge bouquet delivered to your door.

— he posts you on his story of course , but matt is definitely private with your guys' relationship so the pictures aren't crazy.

— send you the CUTEST good morning the text

" good morning my love , happy valentine's day. i love you so so much , more than you know . i'll be over with breakfast in an hour , see you then <3 ... ps, check your doorstep. "

— matt comes with your favorite breakfast , no matter what it is , he'll get it for you... he would cook it , but doesn't want to risk ruining your favorite meal

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imagine-silk · 11 months ago

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Hello! May I request fallout 4 companions (Nick especially) with Sole who shares the bare minimum of information about themselves? Not because Sole doesn’t trust them, they really enjoy theirs companions company. Perhaps they busy themselves so they don’t have to think about all the little and big things they miss. (I bet Codsworth would find pristine things that Sole would miss (like a favorite movie, vinyl, or comic?))

Sorry if its not something you’re interested in doing right now. The ask kinda came out as a ramble, I’m lacking sleep haha. Thanks again for considering my request!

》Honestly one of my favorite kinds of characters.

【Cait】 She doesn't appreciate it. Her contract was traded to some random weirdo who barely says anything. It took three days before the topic of your name came up. And two weeks to know what you were looking for, who. But in return you don't ask what she does on her own time or what she's done. It feels like you don't mind rather than you don't care and that makes her feel seen. It stays between you unsaid in her eyes.

♡If romanced she doesn't push for any information. You'll tell her if it's important. People think it's weird the two of you to not share about yourselves like normal people but you're happy, that's all that matters.

【Codsworth】 It's just like it was before. He, unlike the others, already knows you. He knows you very well. Not only did you do an intake for daily preferences but he also served you for a few years. While you're out and about you'll do something or say something that sounds like no information to others or out of context and he'll answer, "Just as I was thinking as well." While you camp with some of the other companions he does chores the way you like without needing to ask, making comment on recent events, which makes them jealous for sure. He digs up things from the house he preserved or found and fixes them up brand new before presenting it to you. Songs you liked or wanted to hear. Movies and shows and comics. Clothes pressed for you and the furniture is redone the way it used to be. He knows you and wants to keep it that way.

【Curie】 Low-key doesn't care. She has one thing on her mind and that's her own goal to better medicine. Finding things to do that is all she needs of you. When she goes to be a synth her feelings overwhelm her and you guide her through that. She's never ever asked about you. She'll tell you about what she's feeling but never thinks to ask what you feel. In her defense, is doesn't understand the nuance of social interactions. And to her credit, it works for the both of you.

♡If she's romanced she realizes she wants to know what you feel and if it's the same as her. She's mostly interested in what you feel now rather than what your opinion is in the past or isn't currently relevant.

【Danse】 Right away he doesn't care for it. A mercenary who talks very little can be dangerous. But you followed orders well and are a damn good shot. The way he asks is more like demanding. It was all for a vetting process but still rude. After the intake he didn't care about your lack of openness. Didn't matter to him personally. After BB he suddenly regrets not knowing you. He was so rude and dismissed you as another faceless soldier and you saved him, from the Brotherhood and himself. Now he wants to know you.

♡If romanced he makes effort to know you, like really know you. For a long time he refused individuality so his own sense of self is not great. But you know yourself and make no attempt to hide it. You are so sure of yourself you don't need to explain. That's one of the things he loves about you.

【Deacon】 He thinks you're like him, that you want to hide in plain sight. As much as he gives that to you he's nosy as fuck and takes every chance to learn about you, mostly from afar. It doesn't take any time at all for him to realize you'll just tell him. Most of them are one word answers. It takes him even less time after that to realize you'll comment on things from before the war especially.

♡If romanced he goes out of his way to show you stuff. Old posters and toys. If you follow my headcanon that he's pre-war, he makes old references and generally adds comments on things to bait your answers.

【Hancock】 He thinks it's pretty cool. "Oh, tall, dark, and handsome/beautiful." He does play twenty questions with you 24/7 and is very happy with your half-answers because an answer is still an answer. Plus he knows at least two other people like you. He is the one who figures out that you just don't have the time or think about talking about yourself rather than purposely keeping secrets the fastest. He knows people so he knows better.

♡If romanced he plays with it. You want a kiss? Tell him what's your favorite color. He'll get on his knees if you tell him what you like about your new home. But honestly he'll do it anyways. All he needs to know is that you want him like he wants you.

【MacCready】 He was more concerned about you putting a bullet in his head while his back was turned. Everyone in the Commonwealth was looking out for number one. So imagine his surprise when you were looking out for your number one and it wasn't you. Not only were you looking for your son but you stopped to help every person who asked for help. Your actions spoke to him in a way your words, he figured, couldn't. You didn't need to help him but you did. You didn't take the caps back. And you killed the gunners the second they turned their guns on him even when they said their beef wasn't with you. It was what you did, not what you told him.

♡If romanced he will ask things. Basic ones are like, "How was your day?" Normal questions that are the peak of domestic life. Then the more personal things. Some sound silly, "What's your favorite color?" But most build off of a quick thing you said in passing, "Wait, you've been to California? What was it like?" He trusts you'll tell him the truth.

【Nick】 As a private detective this simply won't do. He gets it at first, you just need him to find your son, it's business. However, you want him to stay with you after that. It confuses him because you made no indication you like him in the slightest way. He's the second fastest to realize you're not keeping to yourself on purpose. As one of the only ones who are pre-war he's able to get things the others can't. He'll talk about things and give his options and bait you into answering it. That was a common way to get people to talk back then when you were trying to be polite and keep up the conversation, even if the conversation stays a bit thin.

♡If he's romanced he makes fun of the fact you forget to say things about yourself. Don't get it wrong, he makes it clear you don't need to share. He's just poking fun.

【Piper】 This simply won't do. She asks as many question as they come up but she gets depressing short answers. You either give one word answers or say you're not really in the mood, on some occasions you admit you don't know, you never thought about it. It takes a long time for her to stop and that's only because the questions start getting old. And you still feel like a mystery even though you've told her everything.

♡If she's romanced she realizes how much you've told her and pushes it. What is your type? How do your lips feel? Why do you look so good? It becomes playful and light, never serious.

【Preston】 In the beginning he didn't realize he didn't know much about you. He took your help selfishly to get him and his people back on stable ground but you told him you were happy to help. So he takes time to learn about you and give you everything he could possibly help you with. In hopes you would share by yourself he gives things to you without any prompt. It doesn't really work most of the time.

♡If romanced he asks things with hearts in his eyes. He is so lovesick he takes all of your half-answers and files it away in his mind. It hardly matters at that point.

【X6】 It wasn't his mission so he didn't care. You owed him no explanation or justification. Doesn't mean he doesn't question you. He asks why you helped someone, why you stopped for a distraction. And of course you give short answers like, "They needed help." or "I wanted to." Later, after the Institute is gone, he sees how you carry yourself and tries to copy it. Obviously he can't so you help him too. You showed him he can figure himself out by himself and he didn't need you. So he held the same opinion; he doesn't need to know you like that.

♡If romanced he's still comfortable with you keeping things to yourself. It's only after months of being together do you realize he's never asked you a personal question, that you've never shared anything that personal. When you bring that to him he tells you that hardly matters. But seeing you make the effort after that gives him a feeling he can't describe. It's a good feeling he thinks.

#ask and you shall receive #fallout 4 #fallout imagines #fallout x reader #companions react #gender neutral reader #cait #curie #codsworth #danse #deacon fo4 #hancock #maccready #nick valentine #piper wright #preston garvey #x6 88

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madssturniolo · 9 months ago

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Valentine’s with BF!Matt💘

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・・.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・.・.・

Happy Valentine’s Day to all my single girls🩵

#matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo edit #matt sturniolo fluff #matt x reader #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #valentines day

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mlmxreader · 6 months ago

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Fallout + pet names/terms of endearment

these are ALL m!reader - please don't be weird abt it if you aren't mlm/nblm

jncludes: MacCready, Preston, Hancock, Nick, Cooper Howard/The Ghoul & Maximus

MacCready

handsome, trouble, sugar, bad boy (playfully)

MacCready rolled over from his place on the left side of the bed, a soft groan coming from the back of his throat as he noticed the sunshine starting to trickle in through the cracks in the wall; he couldn't believe it was morning already, but when he set his eyes on you, still fast asleep next to him, he couldn't help but to smile as he gently nudged you.

"Morning, handsome," his voice was quiet and low, still thick with sleep. "C'mon, it's time to get going."

Preston

sweet, General (playfully), husband, Prince charming

It was getting late when you and Preston finally got back home after helping out a settlement in need; the stars were shining brightly, almost as if the world hadn't turned to utter shit around you. Preston couldn't help it, stealing a fond glance your way as he smiled and allowed his shoulders to drop all their tension for the first time that day.

"We're almost home," he said softly. "Not long now, sweet."

Hancock

love, beloved, sweetheart, casanova, sunshine

Hancock had been locked in his office all day, dealing with the various goings on in Goodneighbor and hardly speaking to anyone at all except to ask for the odd bit of Jet here and there to keep him going; he was completely oblivious when you sat yourself down opposite his desk, tilting your head to the side and raising your brows expectantly. You had to clear your throat to get his attention, and when you did, he looked up at you with the upmost fondness.

"Sorry, sweetheart," he almost laughed. "I'll be right there."

Nick

honey, old man, beau, darling

The music was playing loudly as you and Nick sat down at what you could only guess was a pub, although there was hardly anyone around except for a few regulars. It was nice to get away from the hustle and bustle of Diamond City, as well as the nastiness from its residents that weren't exactly kind about your relationship with Nick. A quick look around, and you hummed under your breath at the realisation that nobody actually cared or even noticed.

"Alright, beau," Nick said as he lit up a cigarette. "You sit here, and I'll go get your drinks."

Cooper

cowboy, daddy-o, hot stuff, romeo

At best, Cooper was difficult; selfish and violent, he didn't exactly care what anyone else said or thought about him. He was always the shoot first, ask questions never type - whatever brought him whatever it was he wanted at the time. But even still, as he worked on getting a fire started for the night, he did find it difficult to take his eyes from you; you were the most fucking handsome guy he had ever seen in all his years, and at night, it seemed like the stars became trapped in your eyes.

"C'mon, cowboy," he said suddenly. "Sit down an' eat somethin'."

Maximus

sweetheart, angel, pumpkin, tiger, teddy bear

Maximus grinned as he sat down beside you, thankful to have some spare time just for the two of you; a little bit giddy, he handed you the glass bottle of Nuka Cherry. Outside, the weather was hot and almost sweltering, but amongst the wooden walls of the abandoned shack, it wasn’t so bad.

"I managed to find the last one," he told you, nearly laughing. "What'd you think, angel?"

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slocumjoe · 5 months ago

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in other news, is there any romance quite as frustrating and stupid as danse x sole, when you look at it from. Any other companions point of view.

Preston Garvey has his whole world chewed up and spat out at his feet. Everyone he knew and loved is dead. Maybe he had a best friend, a lover, a brother or sister in the Minutemen. Maybe they were a civilian in Quincy. It doesn't matter anymore. This guy who's given you this second chance, you go with him to try and redeem yourself.

You are Preston Garvey, the last original Minuteman. You are tired, down in your bones, but you follow this stranger in a strange land across what you call home. While you're both picking through the ruins of Lexington, finding the corpses of the last of your friends, their pipboy gets a signal. A call for help.

You go to Cambridge. You help a dude in power armor gun down some ferals. As you reload your musket, dust yourself off, you look up as the big guy starts talking to your pal. And you can hear the white noise behind their eyes. You blink as they agree without question or hesistancy to do anything this dude needs. They're pretty nice, they're a good person, but usually you're not worried about if they're using their brain or not. Now, you're kinda worried. So you follow your buddy and Paladin Danse (What kind of name...) to some space station or whatever, watch them cook the man alive after some button mashing gone wrong, and then he can barely offer them a place in the Brotherhood before they're verbally signing their life away.

You are Preston Garvey. Your General has joined another, foreign army because this one guy, who had the charisma of a bag of corn nuts, asked. You are Preston Garvey. You are tired. Your general is now wearing a rival army's uniform because it makes that one guy happy. You want a nap so fucking bad.

You are Nick Valentine. You are a synth. You just helped this dude find out their baby is in the Institute. You walk out some security doors and see this big, hulking shadow in the sky, smothering the land from the sun. It bellows out that it comes in peace, heralded by armed air support, spotlights glowering down. You smell war and you don't even have a nose. As you stand there, in the wind, covered in blood and oil from the synths you've helped kill, you watch as your...client? You watch the dweller turn on their pipboy, mark Cambridge on their map, and make their way to the road.

You follow, of course. You follow, stupid sentimental bot you are, to thr Brotherhood of Steel. The dweller is vibrating to get on the death blimp. The guy offering the ride, Danse, is both sizing you up like you're a hot meal and like he wonders if you're actually a synth, because how the fuck would the dweller think bringing you here was a good idea? You shrug at him. You don't know either. You get on the vertibird. You get on the blimp. The dweller bats their eyes at Danse as he stomps down a catwalk, and they snap back to their normal selves once they talk to Kells. They balk and turn green and scoff out in the hall as you both listen to Maxoson's speech. They wonder how dumb a man could be as you venture deeper into the bowels of the beastly aircraft. People sneer at you. You are in danger. You stay very close to the dweller. You both find Danse again. He asks what they think. They don't say what they were just saying. He believes in himself, he sounds like he cares, he seems to truly trust in this army and it's cause. Not "what a load of horseshit." Danse beams with pride and they drink it in like clean water.

You are Nick Valentine. You wish you could drink.

#fallout 4 #fo4 #paladin danse #nick valentine #preston garvey #like do you understand my vision #everyone else is watching obvious x idiot. sole knows. danse doesnt. this goes on for too long.#sole wades increasingly deeper through and into BOS bullshit like but i can fix him!!!!#hancock is in the back like BITCH GET BACK HERE NO YOU CANNOT

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mysunshinetemptress · 9 months ago

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Tesoro mio, La mia vita

Alessia Russo x Bosa!reader

Warnings: none just Fluff,it’s really short just a little thing, some really bad Italian cause it was taken from Google, but Surprise here’s a short one for Valentine’s Day

You were walking into London Colony when you were suddenly stopped by Mark, Arsenals media director “Hey Y/n, how have you been.” You smiled at the camera “all good Mark how are you.” Mark smiled zooming in on your face slightly before speaking “I’m good thanks, just wondering what’s your phone screen.” You laughed lightly pulling your hands phone out of your back pocket before looking down at the photo and smiling. It was no secret you and Alessia Russo were dating, she’s the reason you played for Arsenal but what fans didn’t know was how long your relationship had actually been going on for. Turning your phone you should the photo “it’s a picture of my two brothers Nick and Joey, Tesoro Mio Alessia and both her brothers Luca and Gio.” You paused allowing Mark to zoom in before continuing on “it was taken at the NFC Championship game in 2019, which was Nicks first season in the NFL and all my family where there as well as Alessia’s as we all brought our partners and their family so it was a big day but I love my brothers, and when I’m here Gio and Luca are like my brothers and of course I love Alessia so yeah that’s my screensaver hasn’t changed since 2019 and it probably won’t anytime soon.” Mark laughed thanking you as you walked away with a red face.

It was a quite night both you and Alessia where cuddled up on your couch in St Albans when you both got a notification from the media team saying their latest video was out, you both normally ignored them but you wanted to see Alessia’s reaction to you telling the world how long you had been together so you turned it on. “Oh I love these, it’s such a cute trend.” You laughed as Alessia buried her head further into your chest as you ran your fingers through her blond hair. You smiled as you watched yourself come up on the screen and felt Alessia tense slightly “oh my god, Sole.” You blushed as she looked up at you “I can’t believe you still have that as your Lock Screen.” You mumbled kissing her head “of course I do it’s my favourite photo.” Alessia stretched up to kiss you before turning back to the Tv listening to you explain the meaning behind it before it cut to her walking into the training ground.

“Morning Alessia, how are you.” Alessia beamed happily at the older man “hi Mark all good thanks and you.” Mark smiled at the blonde “I’m good, just wondering what’s your screen saver.” Alessia looked at her phone “it’s a photo of Ella and El mio sole Y/n at the Euros in 2022, Ella pulled her over the barrier with the help of my brothers and then proceeded to jump on Y/ns back and then this photo is of me and Y/n after winning the NCAA I asked her to be my girlfriend shortly after and the rest is history.” Mark smiled “so the photos mean a lot to you.” Alessia smiled nodding “definitely both her and Ella mean a lot to me and that moment is something I just love looking back on.” You turned looking down at the blonde “you’re going to make me cry.” Alessia sat up grabbing your face laughing “naw don’t cry, I love you and I love those moments and memories with you.” You leaned your head against hers “I love every moment with you.” Alessia pecked your lips “Te amo, el mio sole.” You pulled her forward locking your lips together as you kissed her passionately “Ti amo, La Mia vita.”

#awfc #woso #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso imagine #alessia russo x y/n #alessia russo x you #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo #woso community #woso blurbs #woso x reader #woso soccer #woso couples #valentines day #nick bosa #joey bosa #arsenal wfc #ar

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blackmoonowl · 29 days ago

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Separation anxiety

Fallout 4 companions really not liking being away from you, their partner - headcanons.

Slight triggers warnings for death and suicidal ideations.

A/n: Life isn't doki doki rn chat.

Cait:

❤︎ Cait doesn't like other people all that much. There's also not a whole lot of people like her, especially due to her selfish and often rude personality.

❤︎ At first she becomes angry with you. She doesn't understand why the hell you're leaving her behind. Did she finally upset you? Did her attitude push you away? Cait wants answers.

❤︎ Not above demanding to go with you. She finally has someone that cares about her, a decent life. She'll be hard to deal with the entire time

❤︎ Cait spirals back into some bad habits in your absence, even when she tries not to. She spends a lot of time at bars, drinking away her sorrows and worries.

❤︎ Generally becomes a big pain to deal with to other people. She snaps a whole lot more and becomes more anxious and irritated. She's stuck between being angry with you and missing you.

❤︎ Has no idea how to act when you come back. On one hand she wants to give you a smack upside the head and yell at you, on the oher she wants to just sink into your arms and not let go again.

Curie:

❤︎ Curie doesn't understand what she's feeling fully, but she absolutely hates it. It feels like a bucket of ice cold water has been poured directly over her synthetic heart.

❤︎ Handles a bit more mature than the other companions on this list. She keeps a cool head, but she's still grappling with the newfound emotions brought into the situation.

❤︎ Curie doesn't really think to argue, but pleads for you to reconsider. When she realizes it's futile, she just tries to prepare you for your trip. She packs you stimpaks, purified water and anything else she can find.

❤︎ Takes your absence hard. She finds herself near tears for the first time in her life. Nothing is comforting, she can't focus on her work for more than a minute before thoughts of you creep in again.

❤︎ Finds herself among the items you left behind. If you have a home in a settlement, she'll spend practically all her time there, moving all her research there.

❤︎ Frantically checks you for any injuries as soon as you step foot through the door. After all your wounds have been treated, and you settled in, she finally calms down.

Danse:

❤︎ Danse had everything stripped away from him. Even though he won't fully admit it, in his eyes you're his sole reason for existing, his purpose. He has gotten so used to being there with and for you that he can't imagine it otherwise.

❤︎ So when you tell him you have to part ways, he feels his heart sink. He was a Brotherhood Paladin, he thought he was above the feeling of insecurity that washes over him. He wonders if you changed your mind about keeping a synth around, not that he'd blame you.

❤︎ He won't fight you on it, even if he wants to. Instead putting on a brave face and wishing you good luck. He'll part with a tight hug, pleading for you to be safe, that he can't handle losing you.

❤︎ Nervous wreck the entire time. Part of him wishes he had just gone with you regardless. He keeps to himself most of the time, not really socializing and staying near your home.

❤︎ Goes through his entire training to try and keep his cool. He's never felt this kind of unrest in his life. He'll occupy himself by repairing his power armor over and over again, as well as physical exercise.

❤︎ The decorum goes somewhat out the window when you come back. Danse takes you into his arms, taking a moment to feel the comfort of your body against his again. Next time, he's coming with.

Deacon:

❤︎ Deacon's responses are cryptic and suspicious from the start. He doesn't fight you going, taking the hint when you say you have to go alone, but that's not the end of it.

❤︎ Deacon knows this game, having vanished on people, including you for the safety of everyone involved. Railroad work is rough, and the last thing he wants is to compromise your safety.

❤︎ That doesn't mean he's going to sit by idly, though. He's well aware he can't follow you himself. He's way too closely connected with you, and you'll definitely notice if he follows you. You know him too well for him to be able to pull that off.

❤︎ So he connects with every tourist and Railroad agent he can find. Preferably the ones you don't know as well. Every single move is tracked so he knows where you're at, ready to step in should the need arise.

❤︎ Deacon's behavior around other shifts only slightly. He'll keep up his usual appearances and antics, but he does seem a little more distracted than usual.

❤︎ Waiting on you when you come back. He casually welcomes you back with a hug and kiss, saying he knew that you'd make it home safe. But as soon as you turn your back on him, he breathes a sigh of relief.

Gage:

❤︎ Gage almost gets annoyed with how the news of you leaving upsets him. He tries to reason it's because you're the overboss, and the place would fall apart without you to lead it. But he can't deny the dull sense of panic welling up in him.

❤︎ This raider doesn't go without a fight. He'll become angry. He's your right hand man, he's supposed to stick by your side. He has no idea why he's acting like this. Last thing he wants is to put himself in needless danger. But he can't stand the thought of you walking out into the wasteland alone.

❤︎ Tries to come up with any rational conclusion he can find. He wonders if you are planning to turn your back on him and the raider gangs, he certainly feels betrayed by you leaving him behind. You'll have to firmly remind him that you're still the boss of him before he even considers backing down. Though that doesn't mean he appreciates you holding rank above his head.

❤︎ Struggles keeping the raider gangs together in your absence. At any given moment he feels like there's going to be a revolt, leading to his own death. Part of him resents you from putting him in this position.

❤︎ At his lowest point, he found himself sitting on your side of the bed, stroking his fingers over an article of your clothing. When he fully realized what he was doing, he tossed it aside, trying to convince himself you haven't affected him.

❤︎ When you come back, he keeps his feelings to himself as you deal with the leaders of the other raider gangs. But as soon as the two of you are alone. He gives you a scolding for leaving him behind, with you in the comforts of his arm.

Hancock:

❤︎ Hancock is the last person who wants to curb your freedom, but he's also keenly aware of the danger you're putting yourself in. You've made quite a name for yourself in the Commonwealth, and as his partner, you have an even bigger target on your back.

❤︎ He asks you what's going on. If you're in trouble with some gang he can find a way to make them either back off or disappear entirely. Goodneighbor can survive without him, he's not so sure about you, though.

❤︎ He'll get frustrated if you don't give him a straight answer as to whats going on, and you're better off just telling him how you feel. Just tell him exactly where you're going and what you're going to do, just so he knows where to find you.

❤︎ Reluctantly lets you go. He swears to himself that if you're not back at a certain time, he's going out himself to come looking for you and bring you home.

❤︎ Finds a lot of comfort in chems, obviously. He finds being sober rather unpleasant when he doesn't know where you are and if you're even alive, mentally beating himself up for letting you.

❤︎ Probably high as hell when you come back. He's not lucid enough to fully grasp that you're home alive. When he wakes up that night he immediately reaches out for you, praying your return wasn't a drug infused hallucination of what he wanted.

MacCready:

❤︎ MacCready lost someone he dearly loved, he can't bear the thought of it happening again. The mere idea of you going off without him there protect you, makes him sick to his stomach.

❤︎ Argues at first. He is angry, he wants to stay by your side. What's so important that you had to leave him behind? His voices raises and his voice begins to crack.

❤︎ Then begins the bargaining. He knows he can't force you, but dammit he needs you. He wouldn't be able to take it if he lost you as well. so just let him go with you just in case. You hired him to watch your back for crying out loud, why are you being so goddamn stubborn?

❤︎ Actually fighting to keep himself together in your absence. He drinks, smokes and tries whatever he can to calm himself down. He thinks of every horrible way you could die without him there to save you, and it kills him. He failed to protect his wife, and he can't stand not being able to protect you too.

❤︎ Just like Cait he is irritable and unsociable. He snaps at people, his attitude is even worse than usual. MacCready has absolutely zero patience and he feels he's gonna lose it at any given moment. Keeps to himself as much as he can. He's neck deep in denial with how much he lays awake at night, instinctively reaching out for you, only to realize you're not there.

❤︎ As soon as he sees you walking back to him, he's on you within seconds. His arms wrapped around you as he fights back a few tears of relief. He'll let his hands roam all over your body, letting the reality sink in that you're back safe. Just so you know, you're not going anywhere for the next few hours.

Nick Valentine:

❤︎ Thinks you've utterly lost your mind. Going out into the Commonwealth alone is something only people with a death wish do. Or those too confident in their abilities.

❤︎ Given his nature as a detective, he tries to get to the root of your decision. He'd rather be there to watch your back in case something happens. After all through his detective work he has seen the absolute worst of the wasteland.

❤︎ Part of him wonders if you're concerned about him breaking down. It doesn't really matter to him, he would rather lose a limb or two than lose you.

❤︎ Just like Hancock he wants to know exactly where you are going, why and who you might be with. It helps him calculate the dangers. Worst case scenario, he'll know exactly where to start looking if you go missing.

❤︎ Takes on more cases to distract himself, convincing himself you're smart enough not to take stupid risks. Though his deduction skills are greatly reduced as he is occupied with worry for you.

❤︎ Stands at the entrance to Diamond city when you come back. Turns out he stands out by the gate every evening to see if you come back. He'll welcome you with a kiss to the forehead, wrapping an arm around you to pull you close.

Piper:

❤︎ Part of Piper feels annoyed that you're leaving her out of your adventures. She doesn't need to be protected, she can handle herself just fine.

❤︎ Like Nick Valentine, she wants to find out exactly what's going on. Nothing should warrant you leaving her in the dark, or behind for that matter.

❤︎ Doesn't willingly let you go, but doesn't actively prevent you from going. She is worried to death that something will happen to you. That you'll get taken out by raiders, super mutants or god forbid the Institute. Hell, she thought a synth might have replaced you. The real you would never leave her behind!

❤︎ As soon as you're gone, just like Deacon, she begins to dig. She tries getting Nick to help her out with tracking you. She'll be two steps behind you if she can. And if she can't follow you, she'll try getting informants.

❤︎ She feels bad about stalking your moves, but she needs to know why you left her at home. And if you're safe. She can't help how nosy she is. If you bit the big one she'd never recover.

❤︎ Once she hears you're on your way back, she makes you promise to never ditch her again. She also wouldn't complain if you bought her a drink as compensation.

Preston:

❤︎ You aren't just Preston's partner, you're his hero. You're the general of the minuteman, you brought his whole reason to live back. He truly sees you as a knight in shining armor.

❤︎ Last thing he wants is for you to end up like General Becker. For the minuteman to end up like they did after he died. Last thing he wants is to lose the person who was always there for him, his closest friend and his partner.

❤︎ As your loyal right hand man, he respects you greatly, and he doesn't want to fight you on this, even as he feels his heart go numb with fear.

❤︎ The minutemen heavily relies on you, he relies on you. He can't handle it if his world comes crashing down on him a second time, if he had to lose everything he thought for, and the person he loved more than anything.

❤︎ Tries his damned best to make you proud by keeping things going. He has some minutemen keep their ears open and report back any news on you. Keeping everything you fought together to build running brings him a bit of comfort.

❤︎ Actually sheds a tear or two when you come home safe, clutching you to his body as he buries his face in your hair. It feels like he can breathe again, and he takes an evening off so you two can spend time together.

X6-88:

❤︎ X6-88 doesn't fully understand why you wouldn't want the help of him, an Institute courser. Surely it would be a lot safer and easier if you just took him with him.

❤︎ He takes the order without a fight, just with a few questions as two why he can't join you, and when you'll be back. He makes you agree that if you haven't returned on the agreed date and location, he'd come looking for you himself.

❤︎ The synth isn't good with emotions, greatly lacking most of them. The dull sting in his chest isn't something he thinks deeply about. Instead he pushes the physical discomfort away and continues his duties as usual.

❤︎ He finds himself checking the approaching date of your scheduled return over and over again, calculating the time you had left before he would assume something had happened.

❤︎ When more than a couple minutes ticked past your supposed return, he was more than ready to start a full on search for you through the Commonwealth.

❤︎ Told you not to keep him waiting as soon as you returned. Outwardly he looked just the same, but he wondered why that ache in his chest had stopped.

#fallout #fallout 4 #fo4 x reader #x6-88 x reader #preston garvey x reader #piper wright x reader #nick valentine x reader #maccready x reader #fo4 hancock x reader #porter gage x reader #fo4 deacon x reader #paladin danse x reader #fo4 curie x reader #fo4 cait x reader #this post was brought to you by bbq sauce

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sinisterexaggerator · 1 month 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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