Atomic Wrangler Kink Meme, Part I

[awmod]

Welcome to the Atomic Wrangler Kink Meme! Prompt, write, and draw same-gender Fallout pairings, and comment on fills that other people leave!

Rules:

• 18+ only.


• No M/F content, regardless of the orientations of the parties involved.


• No sexual content involving anyone under the age of 18.


• Post anonymously.


• Trans and NB characters are more than welcome.


• Put the characters, ships, or kinks that you're requesting in the subject line.


• Tag in the subject line for common triggers and potentially distressing content.


• Before making a request, please post a fill or leave a comment. Let's get this party started, prompt away!


• Don't be an asshole.

Discussion post | Mod post

Comments

X6-88/Kent Connolly - Silver Shroud Adventures

[(Anonymous)]

Because there's just nothing quite like a crackship, right?

In the wake of the Institute's dissolution, X6-88 is struggling to find a new life purpose in a chaotic world. Kent's struggling to find someone to clean up Goodneighbor and make the world a better place. When Kent called out for a hero, he never expected an ex-courser, and as for X6, he can't get over the fact that he's actually going along with this, let alone the fact that the Institute has fallen.

Smut or not, it's up to you! You get bonus points for: X6 beginning to change his opinion on the Institute, incorporating his distaste for heights and bugs, Kent nerding out.

Re: X6-88/Kent Connolly - Silver Shroud Adventures

[(Anonymous)]

....now this is a crackship i can get behind!

F!Vault Dweller/Tandi

[(Anonymous)]

I just want a super cute post-rescue date between two cute teenage wasteland girls.

Re: F!Vault Dweller/Tandi

[(Anonymous)]

I'm willing to write this pairing, but Tandi is sixteen when this occurs. I could do some sort of date post-game and when Tandi is 18+ if you are willing to have something along those lines?

Arcade/M!Any - Parenthood - Gen

[(Anonymous)]

Please, somehow, give me post-game Arcade with his husband, a child (acquired purposefully or foisted upon them is up to you), and some good old fashioned parenthood shenanigans. I'm looking for the fluffier/happier end of this; I just want Doc Gannon to be happy <3

Thank you in advance!

Re: Arcade/M!Any - Parenthood - Gen

[(Anonymous)]

seconding this, the idea of arcade being a dad is too cute!

James/Jonas, do you believe that love can bloom in the vault??

[(Anonymous)]

James arrives at Vault 101, grieving, with a newborn baby he must take care of. Jonas steps in to help: acclimating James to Vault culture/procedure, getting chores done, helping babysit or take care of our kiddo Lone Wanderer as they grow; whatever he can do to make it easier on this sad dad.

And as they eventually grow to spend so much time together, Things Develop ;3

can be angsty, fluffy, smutty, whatever. Just Heck Me Up.

+++if it's mentioned/shown that kiddo LW thinks of Jonas as dad (gee LW, how come bethany esda lets you have TWO dads???)
squick is non-con, but everything else is fair game ;0

Re: James/Jonas, do you believe that love can bloom in the vault??

[(Anonymous)]

I have never wanted anything more than this

vulpes/legate lanius

[(Anonymous)]

anything goes

Hancock/M!any - drugs

[(Anonymous)]

Hancock gets absolutely blasted and then fucked into the mattress/carpet/floor/ground

bonus points for shotgunning and/or the other dude being Danse (who is probably unaffected by whatever they're smoking)

Re: Hancock/M!any - drugs

[(Anonymous)]

nice

Any/Any - Elder Gays

[(Anonymous)]

Nothing gives me the warm and fuzzies like a couple that's been together decades and still dotes on each other like they did when they were young. So this prompt is an excuse to write fic of your favorite couple in their advanced years!

Fluff, angst, smut or not, it's up to you.

给我一个吻/Give Me A Kiss (f!Vault Dweller/f!Pat) 1/1

[(Anonymous)]

Characters: f!Vault Dweller, f!Pat, mentions of their kids
Relationship: F/F
Rating: M
Summary: Natalia and Pat are happily married in their fifties, busy being moms and running a tribe, and still in love after all these years.
Notes: I actually posted this on my own tumblr but I think it really fits with what you want so I'll repost it here. If that's not okay mod, feel free to delete.

Pat’s hand over hers is warm, and the lullaby her wife is singing to Morlis to lull their child to sleep makes her nostalgic. Pat was one of the first people to come to Arroyo that wasn’t from Vault 13, and with her she brought skills and knowledge even the scientists Natalia knew from Vault 13 could not match. Natalia only knows that Pat comes from up north where a steel emperor rules with his dragons. She knows it’s a metaphor, probably. At least she hopes. Deathclaws kind of look like dragons and power armor is made from steel.

Natalia hasn’t seen a deathclaw in decades, not that she wants to. She hasn’t been back to the Boneyard, the Hub, Shady Sands, or Junktown. She’s been too busy building Arroyo, and love has a side effect of grounding a person. So she’s stayed with Pat who’s helped her build Arroyo, and for that, she’s eternally grateful. She doesn’t say that out loud, though. Unless she drinks too much, then she’ll mutter it in Pat’s ear and kiss her neck.

Morlis is asleep on Pat’s lap and their eldest child is still off adventuring. Natalia thinks her eldest daughter is so much like Pat, responsible and willing to take risks. Pat says she’s like Natalia, willing to lead and not let fear consume her. She thinks Morlis is too much like her when she was a young child, wanting to escape from the vault just for the sake of escaping and being free. Yet back then, she only had an idealized concept of freedom.

“She’ll be back soon.” Pat reassures her, stroking Morlis’ head that’s in her lap.

“I’m not worried.” Pat laughs at her response, and even after all these years, Natalia still keeps a few walls up. Yet with Pat, they come down a lot easier than with anyone else.

“I am. Just a little. She wants to prove herself to you; she looks up to you so highly and doesn’t want to let you down.” Natalia knows this is true, but even after well over a decade of being a mother, she hasn’t mastered parenting 101; Pat is far better than her, taking on the role so naturally.

“She’s been listening to the others tell the exaggerated story of how Arroyo came to be, their fantasy version of me.” She laughs bitterly, looking down at the ground rather than at Pat. “Maybe it’s for the best. It’ll make her a better woman and leader than me.” The words are heavy and critical of herself, but she sounds like she’s listing off ingredients for a healing powder.

“I think she sees the real you, the one you can’t see because past memories impair your vision now that you’ve aged, like cataracts.” Why is Pat always right? Or well, most of the time right. She doesn’t want to admit it, it’s the immature part of her. Yet this is why she loves Pat, why she agreed to marry her in the first place and build Arroyo together with her.

“Stop being right all the time.” Natalia groans and Pat laughs at her because she’s most likely pouting as she speaks.

“I’ll tuck Morlis into bed.” Pat grabs onto their youngest daughter, a sleepy grumble of gibberish, keeping a hold of her as she stands up. Morlis rests her head on Past’s left shoulder. “I’ll be back out and we’ll wait until Miss Next Arroyo Elder comes back home.” Natalia just nods, still sitting on the porch of their house.

The sun is almost done setting, and maybe she’ll finally admit she is getting a bit nervous. Many things could happen to a teenage girl in the Wasteland, and she’s younger than when Natalia left Vault 13.

It’s so strange how she’s now a tribe’s elder and has a family now. She never saw herself fully settling down, but there was a time she thought her and Katja would have a longer run at a relationship. Maybe if it weren’t for being shut out of Vault 13 like she was, she’d be with Katja somewhere anywhere else but the Boneyard. Maybe she’d be living in Vault 13 with her, and they’d stick out like sore thumbs because they’ve been changed, tainted, by the outside Wasteland.

Pat returns as Natalia stops staring off into the distance. She’s not exactly staring in order to see her daughter off in the distance, but more like staring because it’s a good focus point as her mind keeps jumping all over the place.

Her wife sits next to her, closer this time than before. Pat kisses her, but it’s not unexpected. She holds her close, her arms wrapping around Natalia like a secure hug. She knows this is Pat reassuring her, telling her she knows something is swirling and agitated in that mind of hers.

Natalia feels young again, in her twenties instead of her fifties, when she kisses Pat. She’s heard love causes chemicals in the brain to react a certain way so it must be that. She keeps kissing Pat as she goes to straddle her waist, but the kiss ends when she realizes she’s not as flexible as she used to be. Pats hands fall to her waist, no longer holding her tightly.

She pulls her top off and lets it fall to the side. Pat stares at her breasts for only a short time, mumbling what Natalia knows as ‘beautiful’ in Mandarin before she kisses Natalia’s sternum. Pat begins to massage her left breast and move her kisses down towards the other. Pat’s other hand slips down her pants and underwear, the tips of her fingers brushing against her. Natalia is impatient, wanting to feel Pat’s fingers inside her instead of brushing against; she is not patient, and she groans to tell Pat to hurry up. It’s only then she realizes her eldest daughter would and should be coming back soon, and she knows a moment like this is becoming less frequent.

Pat seems to get the message, sliding a single finger inside Natalia to start off with. Pat goes back to kissing Natalia on the lips, a moan slipping through right before Natalia returns it. Pat’s hand on her breast because more focused and not as gentle. Still, it’s not rough, but Natalia doesn’t care for gentle love making as much as Pat does.

Another finger is put inside her and Pat’s thumb rubs her clit. The kiss between them is interrupted when that happens, but it doesn’t take long for them to pick up their previous rhythm. She feels her own breathing quicken, once in a while pressing against Pat’s chest. She feels lightheaded, and maybe this is what it’s like to fall in love all over again. It’s been over twenty-five years and Pat can do this to her.

She gasps, feeling Pat’s fingers move even quicker and more concentrated than before. Memories of the first time they had sex in under the night sky, how quiet it was but she didn’t feel alone. Natalia remembers Pat’s lovingly whispered words in her first language in her ear, and it took several weeks of an embarrassed Pat to finally tell her what she said; it was quite the confession, and ever since then, neither of them have looked back.

It’s a mixture of the physical sensations and the emotional connection she feels that makes her feel so lost within herself and Pat. Yet she doesn’t feel confused, but a good sort of lost. She knows it doesn’t make sense, but she doesn’t care. Pat understands.

Natalia shudders, wanting to hold onto her tightly, and so she does so. Her fist orgasm comes and she her breathing stops. She digs her nails into Pat’s back, maybe a bit too roughly. Pat on the other hand seems so stable, calm and focused.

As she tries to catch her breath, knowing she won’t sound coherent but doesn’t care, she makes a demand. “No more fingers.” She moves one of her hands down Pat’s body, feeling her much more clothed than she is. Pat removes her fingers, and the anticipation is building up. She watches wife lick the fingers that were previously inside her.

Yet something else happens instead.

“Not now.” Pat laughs and kisses her on the forehead. “It is almost night and she will be back by then for certain.”

“Fu-” She doesn’t finish her cursing as Pat gives her a peck.

“We’ll continue this later. I promise.” Natalia has never been the most patient, that’s Pat’s thing. Still, that was quite the buildup, and for it to end so suddenly, she wonders if she’s being teased. No, she knows she is. Pat’s taking her time, enjoying their time together. Natalia has always been focused on how many days are left, maybe because of the water chip.

How many more days will they have together? Who will pass first?

Natalia barely gets her top back on when she hears footsteps and heavy breathing. She turns around, seeing the silhouette of her eldest daughter with a thin strip of the sunset still remaing on the landscape.

“So that’s what took you so long.” Pat stands up and greets their daughter, grabbing onto the gecko pelts.

“There was a golden gecko, but I had to wait until the sun was starting to set so it would be slower than me.” Natalia gives a smirk and a nod of approval.

“You outsmarted it, good.” She walks towards her daughter, running a hand through her hair. She remembers Pat telling her how badly her daughter wanted her approval, compliments like these. “You learn and apply things well.” She sees her daughter blush and she, and that smirk from before turns into a smile.

“And these gecko pelts were skinned well. I can’t believe I only taught you how a few months ago.” Pat hangs the pelts on a rack in front of their house, not too far away from them. Natalia knows she’s watching the exchange between them. “The traders will pay a high price for them.”

“Go clean up. You may be my daughter, but gecko guts and blood aren’t things I like smelling.” It’s true, but her tone of voice shows the comment is out of care rather than being spiteful.

“Right. I’ll clean up in the pond before it gets too dark. I promise.” She’s so determined and focused like Pat, but a skilled fighter and tactician like her.

“Take your time. I mean it. No gecko guts or blood in your hair or under your nails.” This may sound like motherly advice, but she has multiple agendas.

Their eldest is off running away, quicker than a gecko chasing a giant ant. Natalia looks at Pat, crossing her arms over her chest.

“We have twenty minutes, and you better keep your promise.” Time may change some things for them, even her family, but the way she looks at Pat and loves her, that’s a constant.

Cass/Cait, addiction support

[(Anonymous)]

I hated that Cait was left "cured" but without any support network. As someone with experience with addiction, Cass could be an amazing mentor, and I'd love to see her take Cait under her wing, or be an understanding shoulder to lean on. Platonic or shippy, either's good.

Re: Cass/Cait, addiction support

[(Anonymous)]

Seconding!

benny/yes man

[(Anonymous)]

let the ben man kiss the robot!!

+ bonus points for making clear it's consensual and not just part of yes man's whole thing

Re: benny/yes man

[(Anonymous)]

seconded. u read my mind.

Charon/Gob, any

[(Anonymous)]

You know how if you kill Moriarty, Gob takes over the place? Charon gets out of his contract somehow, and winds up as a bouncer in Gob's saloon, any somehow they get together. After all that they both went through, let's see some happy ghoul bfs!

any/deathclaws - monsterfucking

[(Anonymous)]

anyone will work, but keep it gay. also assume the deathclaws are sapient and it's consensual - no non-con, please.

beyond that, go nuts. ocs and trans/nb characters welcome. maybe f!sole fists her deathclaw gf, bc those talons make it difficult to get herself off. maybe vulpes always had fantasies about being double-teamed by deathclaws. maybe deathclaws have knots, maybe they have a lot of ridges, maybe they have really long tongues, maybe eggs are involved somewhere. feel free to get creative

manny/boone - reconciliation

[(Anonymous)]

Boone finally realizes why manny acted the way he did and a reunion/talk of feelings ensues.

Sex is more than welcome.

Re: manny/boone - reconciliation

[(Anonymous)]

Ooh I love this idea

m!sole survivor/codsworth - old friends

[(Anonymous)]

codsworth has always been waiting for him and shows he cares in little ways

Travis/Kent, awkward flirting

[(Anonymous)]

They're sweet! They're awkward! They're radio hosts that should kiss!!

Re: Travis/Kent, awkward flirting

[(Anonymous)]

You know, I never thought of this pairing before, but now my heart needs it!

Jack/Edward, holidays

[(Anonymous)]

Jack and Edward have lived for a long time. The rest of the world may have forgotten how holidays used to be celebrated, but they both remember. Any pre-war holiday is fine, I'd just like to see the two of them spending some special, maybe nostalgic, time together.

Beatrix Russell/Any F, spanking

[(Anonymous)]

Someone really wants Beatrix to put them over her knee and show them a good time. Any female character is welcome, but bonus points for Veronica.

maccready/m!any

[(Anonymous)]

MacCready has just started dating the character of your choice (could be the Sole Survivor, could be any of the other companions, could be an OC or any character you want) and he's run into an issue: he doesn't actually have a lot of dating/sexual experience, least of all with men.

So who better to ask for advice than everyone's favorite mayor?

Fic: a guy like you, a place like this (MacCready/Preston, gen)

[(Anonymous)]

A whole lot of people out there thought Hancock was a trouble-stirring problem-maker. MacCready didn't see where they were coming from, right up until Hancock caught him staring at Preston.

"Heh."

MacCready had no idea how long Hancock had been there, boots swinging away jauntily alongside him as he worked the rearguard position on the group's way back to Sanctuary, but it had clearly been long enough. He scowled back him, but Hancock's toothy grin didn't budge. That just made MacCready scowl harder. "Heh yourself. I got no idea what you're talking about."

"Really?" Hancock leaned over and flicked MacCready right in the ear. "Because if that shade of red isn't a blush, then you probably need to see a doctor."

"Told you, I got no idea--"

"I bet Curie knows all kinds of things about treating nasty rashes." Hancock cupped a hand by his mouth. "Hey, doc--"

MacCready promptly slapped his hand away. "Okay, fine, shut your mouth. Maybe I've been looking at him. Maybe, just a little." He squared his shoulders and tried to stare Hancock down, a tactic that perhaps would have been more effective if they weren't both the same height. "That a crime?"

"Honesty is the best policy," said the drug-addicted costumed mayor of a town of criminals. "So why don't you just ask him out?"

"What?" In front of them, Piper turned at the sound of his sudden squawk, but he waved her away until she rolled her eyes and looked back. "That's crazy," he hissed to Hancock. "I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because..."

Words deserted him. MacCready gestured at himself, then at Preston, then threw up his hands.

"Because you're a mime?"

"Knock it off!" MacCready rolled his eyes sullenly, shoulders slumping. "Because a guy like that isn't exactly going to be interested in a guy like me. He's all 'Sir yes sir let's save some kittens', and I'm... you know damn well how I am. I do bad things for money. Have gun, will travel."

This offering of emotional honesty went completely unappreciated. "You never know if something will work until you try it, brother. That always works for me."

"Really? You looked in a mirror lately?"

"Heh! C'mon," Hancock settled his hands on MacCready's skinny shoulders and pointed him towards Preston, squinting as if picturing some strategic maneuver. "Here's what you're going to do. When we get back to base, someone's going to break out the beer and set up a campfire, because they always do, and we're all going to sit around it, because it's been one long day. You'll have a beer or two, and then you'll go talk to him, and you'll say," he pitched his voice higher, "'so, how about this weather?'"

"I don't talk like that! And that's a goddamned-- a goshdarned terrible line."

Hancock shrugged, and began to wander back to the rest of the pack. "Hey, it's a classic. Don't knock it until you try it."



By the time that Sanctuary was rising on the horizon, clouds were beginning to scud across the sky. MacCready made a silent plea to the god of not getting rained on, but it went unheard; a few minutes later the creeping clouds got themselves together enough to rain, an uncomfortable spitting drizzle that was just enough to make you feel damp right from top to socks.

How did people like being out in this kind of thing? MacCready had no idea. Even after all these years, something about being out under the sky, under all that huge... hugeness-- it gave him the creeps. Grumping, he shielded the rain from his eyes and tried to trot along a little faster, as if that would leave him somehow less sodden.

Behind the safety of the shadow of his hands, he worked up the courage to look back over to Preston.

It ought to have been impossible to look at home in miserable spitting rain, but Preston somehow managed it. With his hat catching the worst of it, coat and scarf practical and warm, and his boots well cared for instead of being a collection of holes, he looked like he was just out for a stroll, completely at home, not bothered by anything that the sky could throw at him. It was exactly the sort of thing that MacCready had meant with his helpless gesturing-- here he was, shoulders hunched and scowling, feeling like a wet rat, and there Preston was, happily walking along like he owned the world, smiling in conversation with Hancock.

These sort of feelings weren't new. Right back in the early days, still getting used to life up top, he'd wanted nothing more than to disappear into some dumb comic book instead of the crapshack world he was stuck in. He'd wanted to be right alongside the heroes with their inked muscles and perfect newsprint smiles, and then he'd wanted more than to just be their boy wonders, heart beating as he stared at every panel with rescued heroines swooning into their arms... But then there'd been Lucy, and then all too suddenly there was Duncan, too, and there hadn't been the time to think about that sort of thing any more.

Now there was the time, and there was a perfect newsprint smile, and looking at it made his heart beat just the same way.

Scowling, MacCready stomped his way through a chain of puddles.



When his new boss had bought him to Sanctuary for the first time, MacCready had expected just another one of the little desperate settlements that dotted the country. He hadn't imagined the rate at which it would grow, the main road permanently scuffed with footprints heading in along it, new buildings in place every time he came back. There were even kids, now, stray toys accidentally left forgotten here and there, and a growing family of cats, mousing in the corn. The place was turning into a real town, and if it didn't exactly have all the bells and whistles, it had enough of them to make it good to come back to.

Despite the rain, Hancock's prediction still came true. Under the cover of some old carport, a tarp tied down over the worst of the holes, someone had set up a brightly burning fire for their return. Packs were slung next to free beds, jackets and coats hung up to dry, and then in dribs and drabs the group began to filter towards the warmth of the fire and, more importantly, the crate of beers that someone had managed to get their hands on.

It was no Third Rail, but after the long walk in to town, heaven was a dry place to sit, a warm fire, and a cold beer. MacCready got himself one of the latter and both of the former, feet pointed towards the fire and his ass on an old upturned crate.

Across from him, lit by the shifting light of the fire, Preston was laughing at something Piper had said. MacCready watched him until he'd had enough beers to start to drown out his misgivings.

Things had been... okay, things hadn't exactly been easy with Lucy, but they'd just kind of... happened. This wasn't something that was going to happen like that. It was something that he had to actively try to do, to actually think of a plan and then to carry it out, like some sort of romantic mission or something.

Missions were easier when someone gave you a target and a pocketful of caps, he thought desperately. Maybe he could ask Hancock? Give him ten caps, and tell him to pay them back to him after a successful conversation? No, that was stupid. He'd need at least fifty to bribe himself into action, and he didn't have that on him to give to Hancock to give back to him.

Okay, this was getting complicated.

Before he could think about it any more, he was getting up, wandering as casually as he could through the get-together, until he was right next to his target...

"Oh, hey MacCready," Preston said.

"Hey," said MacCready, and then every single word in the world deserted him.

He raised his beer to Preston. Preston smiled back.

The seconds were ticking away. This was bad.

Think, MacCready, think...

"So," MacCready squeaked, "how about this weather?"

Preston didn't laugh at him, or screw up his nose, or have any of the reactions that MacCready had brainstormed on the walk back to Sanctuary. Instead, his face lit up.

"It's great, isn't it? There's a whole lot of folks out there that'll be grateful for the water." Looking off at the rain that was pouring down from the overhang, he smiled.

MacCready hid his face behind a sip of beer. "Huh. I guess I hadn't thought about that kind of thing."

Maybe picking up his nerves, Preston turned to look at him, and whatever he saw in MacCready's expression made him smile even more, big and slow and warm.

"You know..." Preston began, and with a jolt, MacCready realized that they were closer than he'd thought. "You look a little cold."

"My jacket. It, uh. Got wet? In the rain," MacCready managed. He hadn't felt all that cold just in a shirt, but the shiver that had run through him had had nothing to do with temperature.

"Here, hang on moment..." Preston said, and then, like something out of one of the Lamplight girls' stupid stories, he took off his coat and slung it around MacCready's shoulders.

It was nice. Too nice. A sudden suspicion rose up in him, and before he could control himself he blurted "Hancock told you, didn't he?"

In response, the corners of Preston's eyes crinkled. "He... might have said a word or two."

"And you're standing here, instead of running for the hills."

"Yep."

"Huh."

Drunk and happier than he'd been in a long time, a thought struck MacCready. "Do you think the town cats are okay? I mean, in this rain?"

Preston looked surprised, then mostly just confused. "There was that litter of kittens out in the old toolshed..." He frowned, thinking, concern creeping in across his features. "Last I heard, that roof leaked pretty badly."

"I knew it," MacCready said, fighting the urge to laugh, then squared his shoulders. "Let's go save those kittens!"

As they ducked out of the party, MacCready shot a incredulous look across the fire to Hancock.

Always works, Hancock mouthed, and gave him a wink.

Ellie Perkins/F!Any, cunnilingus

[(Anonymous)]

Ellie Perkins getting eaten out on Nick Valentine's desk

Deacon/any, NV crossover

[(Anonymous)]

Deacon says he won Mr House's control code in a poker game. It could just be BS, but maybe at some stage in the past he made his way over to the Mojave. And maybe while he was there he had a fling with someone he met there...

Any male/nb character is fine. Is Deacon impressed by the tall tales of someone who swears that they got shot in the head once? Do his references to Proust catch Arcade's attention? Do Deacon and Boone bond over their love for sunglasses?

Preston/NBSosu - Thigh Fucking

[(Anonymous)]

Some kind of intercural between everyone's favorite Minuteman and a gnc Sole Survivor? Much love to anyone who fills~~~~

Yes Man/M!Courier, established couple

[(Anonymous)]

After the independent ending, Yes Man and the courier are a power couple controlling the strip together. Cute or smutty or even dark, anything's good.

Re: Yes Man/M!Courier, established couple

[(Anonymous)]

Any preferences if you are still kicking around here? I think I have something I might be able to write up for you, but I just want to see if you have any other requests before I get on it.

Gage/M!Sole Survivor

[(Anonymous)]

Literally anything except for noncon is okay.

Double points if you make Gage bottom.

Re: Gage/M!Sole Survivor

[(Anonymous)]

I'm very slowly working on a fill for this. I hope convoluted circumstances and emotional neediness are acceptable.

Valentine/M!Any

[(Anonymous)]

Idk guys, I just think the robot needs more smooches

Re: Valentine/M!Any

[(Anonymous)]

Now with flowers!

This is Nick’s favorite part of the day. It’s quiet when they come to Sanctuary, and he watches Nate, awaiting for it.

Nate drops the heavy sack of scraps and scavs, raises long, languid arms above his head and groans. Long and drawn out. “’m getting water, want some?”

Nick rubs the raw skin of his good hand, the stiff steel knuckles of the bad. “If you’re carrying it.”

“I’m offering.” The heavy, tattered coat falls from his shoulders. Without the bulk of it, or the clasps and hefts of his armor, his shirt falls straight from the juts of his shoulderblades, to the tight cinch of his belt.

Maybe it’s optimism, but Nick digs out two mutifruit from his bag and sets them on the bed. He sits down beside them, and starts on a quick inventory of what they’ve got. Beside the ton and a half of scrap metal Nate insists on picking up from everywhere they go, they are getting low on ammunition. the scrap goes into making amazing weapons, but very hungry ones.

Nate walks in slowly, the two buckets wallowing at the end of their ropes. He sets one down in front of Nick with a grunt. “Anything you want in there?”

“If you find a way of making ammunition anytime soon, give me the heads up.” Nick glances through his own stash, fifty or so rounds. “We’re gonna need to go shopping.”

“Yep,” Nate sits beside him, lifts his arms, stretches. Yawns. “Tomorrow. Maybe Cricket’ll be in.” He scratches the ragged cut at the back of his head, and bends over the bucket.

And that. That right there. That’s Nick’s favorite moment of all.

Nate has a rag for the purpose, he soaks it, squeezes it. The water’s still warm from the generator, steaming gently. Nate stretches his arm down and starts on it, the rag cutting long, deep swathes into the uniform grey-brown of dirt and radiation, leaving skin the colour of bright, burnished copper trailing behind.

Nate hums something soft and vocaless deep in his throat, rich with pleasure. The rag runs over the thin bones of his wrists,, the long, lanky fingers, the overlarge knots of knuckle and finger joints. In the lamplight of the old shack, his hands are heavy, sweet red-brown, the color of earth from an Earth no longer there. Nate glances at him, eyes glinting in amusement. “It’s getting cold. You want cold water, you can wash in the river.”

Nick grins. His coat comes off with a little reluctance still, but Nate isn’t looking, slapping the soaked rag over his neck now, running over the stiff, salt and dirt spikes of his hair. Nick does what he can with his own hands, but the skin of his right is so stained that it’s hard to tell what is dirt and what’s just long standing discoloration. The water’s uncomfortably hot on the bones of his right, he lets the wet cloth hangs to cool it before running it over the struts and joints. The heat of it shoots right up the conductive metal and makes his elbow ache.

“Are those for me?” Nate is pulling his boots off, he’s spotted the fruit.

“They sure ain’t for me.” Nick rolls up his sleeves, carefully wipes down the joints of his bad arm, the sensation is raw on exposed bones and wiring, he winces. “Thought you might want them for your project.”

Nate pulls a face. He rubs wet fingers over the brand on his cheek. The symbol of Atom is scorched black, and for all Nate insists it didn’t hurt, it makes something twist inside Nick’s circuits anyway.

“The bounty of Atom.” His lips lift with the irony. His teeth are neat and white as they sink into the fruit, juice welling up and staining his mouth purple and pink and reminding Nick, bizarrely, of Deathclaw he had once seen, feasting on the body of a mirelurk. The blood had been that same purple, and there’s something of the Deathclaw in Nate’s bright amber eyes.

He finishes the fruit, and munches his way half heartedly through the second. “I don’t suppose it counts if I just chew and spit it out?” He looks at the half finished fruit.

“I wouldn’t let any of the faithful hear you say that.” Nick smiles and for all his own doubts over Nate’s conversion, he’s glad of this particular stricture in Atom’s faith. Eat of the bounty of Atom. That is, fruit that was irradiated to the point of growing legs and running away.

But they could cope with radiation. That was what radaway was for. What Nick will be endlessly thankful for the faithful of Atom for, is that they actually made Nate eat something. Apparently a human really could survive on nothing but purified water and stimpacks, if they didn’t mind looking like the human version of Gen 1 synth, at least.

There’s a bit more strength to Nate’s shoulders now, since Far Harbor, a bit more solidity to his legs as he pulls his pants up and puts his feet into the bucket with a sigh. The husk of the fruit is tossed out of the window towards the compost heap. The rag comes out again, soaps up Nate’s legs, the staring jut of his shinbone and the muscles strapped taut under his skin.

Doubled over, the shirt pulls tight over Nate’s back, shoulders, the knuckles of his spine. Nick runs a finger down the knobbles. “Get anymore obvious, and I could get a tune out of them.”

“Fuck you.” Nate twists his head up to grin at him and yes. Yes. This is why Nick is here. This is why he is grateful to the Children of Atom, to the Minutemen, to this whole ruined, broken world as he is to to anyone or anything that can make Nate look like that. Who make him just so. Damn. Happy.

And he wears happiness so well. Like the sun, behind those dancing, bird of prey eyes. Sunlight on water, on broken metal, on smashed glass. Bright and brilliant and sharp and glorious and Nick cannot help but smile back, cannot help but reach out his hand and Nate sits up, catches Nick’s hand and his whole body is open to him. Liquid and easy with the sheer joy.

Nate shifts over, knocks the bucket away with a quick cast of his foot and brings his feet up on the bed. Just this close and Nick can feel him, the pulseline at his wrist, Under Nick’s thumb, the slight uptick in breaths per minute, the warm flush creeping up Nate’s chest and turning the skin there russet red, burnt umber.

If there ever needed a justification for what old, human Nick would have called ‘mixing the races’ and others back then had rather worse terms for, that justification is Nathaniel Brooks.

His fingers touch Nick just above where his collarbone would have been if he had one. Just below the crest of his shoulder where a Gunner once took offense at his existence and left him with a three inch long line of raw metal where the skin was scoured off. Nate’s fingers land soft as moth wings, the heat of them sharp, sweet.

Nate wavers, one hand still caught in the trap of Nick’s steel ones. His fingers trace around the gash in Nick’s shoulder, trace around to the base of his throat. His shoulders are drawn up in a hawk’s hunch, eyes bright with a same intent and focus as before a shot.

The kiss, when it comes, is sweet. Nick can only half taste it, the sensors in his mouth are mostly burnt out or were never fixed in properly in the first place, but the sweetness is in the contact, the hungry push of Nate’s teeth, the press of his thumb against the complex knot of wires at Nick’s throat that burst with a wave of warm, delicious sensation. Nick closes his eyes, smiles against Nate’s mouth.

There is still a part of him that wonders what the hell Nate is getting out of this. Nick’s mouth dry and slick plastic inside, no doubt tasting mostly of coolant and cigarettes, but when Nate breaks the kiss to steady himself, pull his hand from Nick’s and starts pulling off the last few layers between them, he’s smiling. That brilliant, starburst smile, blooming like the false sun he worships for a god.

And, by God or Atom or anyone out there- if Nick can make someone that happy just by kissing them, then there has to be a point to him after all.

Nate shucks off his shirt and pants, kicks them into the nest of blankets and curls up against Nick. For such a tall man, he can pack himself away to quite a small space, small enough for Nick to put his arms around easily, fit against him, mold his more yielding body against Nick’s less forgiving one until Nick can feel Nate’s heart beating through every inch of his own body and Nate can feel the clicks and whirs of Nick’s systems through every nerve and Nick tightens his grip by increments, tiny degrees and he can believe this is his. This is something he can have. Whole, holy and entire.

Nate is very still, limp and quiet and eyes closed as though trying to memorise every fragment of this. Register every fragment in his still uncertain mind and never let anyone take it away. Nick breathes in the hot rad small of Nate’s hair, does the same. This is something they can understand, the two of them. Maybe no one else, certainly no one who isn’t a synth, but there are no questions, no need for answers.

Sometimes, things can be so bad that you need these moments, these memories.

Then Nate looks up, a brief darting motion, he smiles like quicksilver and snatches another kiss, fast as breathing. “I got something for you.”

And just like that, Nick is sitting there with empty arms and Nate is across the room to his pack. “Saw it as we were coming in.” He continues, digging in, “But wanted to wait under we had some light. Here-” he pulls something free, dances back to the bed and dives back in, snuggling under Nicks arm as though he had never left. “For you.”

It’s a mutifruit flower, pale purple, the petals a little crushed from it’s bumpy journey in Nate’s pack. Nick curls his metal fingers around it, feels every vein on the little thing, the fine fur on the stem. It has no scent, but the crushed petals are damp, smell of falling rain. “Nate-” Nate has his eyes closed, face turned into Nick’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

“You’ll put it with the others?”

“Sure.” He’s getting quite the botanical collection, what with this whim of Nate’s to give him every flower they pass on their travels. Hubflowers, mutifruits, wild carrots, even a few pickings from the vast, nodding blooms of mutated lilac they had once found. Nick would like to say he isn’t sentimental, but-

“You’re going to wreck my reputation.” He kisses the top of Nate’s head.

“Nah,” Nate yawns. “All the best detectives get flowers, s‘like a way of saying thank you.”

Jenny had never given flowers. Or been given flowers. She wore her hair buzzed short, laughed like machinegun fire, she’d been more likely to give Nick- old, human Nick- a shotgun blast to the face than a dozen red roses. Who’d have given him a shot or three, if he’d tried to give her any.

He turns the flower in his hands, over and over. Nate’s hair is too long again, they spend too much time away from Diamond City for him to keep it in any style at all, and he has two laughs, the soft, deep one Nate can hear now, echoing from deep inside his chest, and the other one. The one that belongs to another Nate entirely. The one that cuts through the air like an early warning siren, as the first bombs fall.

But that Nate isn’t here, this one is. Nick loves them both.

“Wanna have sex?” Nate yawns. He throws his legs over Nick’s, drags up the edge of his shirt with one hand and spreads a hand over where the false skin is fraying against his metal ribs. The heat of him has sunk so far into Nick that the touch only makes him shiver as Nate finds another cluster of wires, and Nick’s eyes slide half closed with the sheer warm contented pleasure of it.

“That’s up to you, sweetheart.” Another kiss. “Whatever you want.”

Nate hums and presses his crotch against Nate’s thigh and, well, that’s a pretty clear answer. The hand on his back splays flat, rubs little circles around that sensitive spots where lose wires and sensors are clustered and soldered together and god, oh god that feels good. There is no human equivalent Nick can reach for, nothing like orgasm or the sexual build up he’s happy to reach down and give Nate a hand with. It’s like- sinking under a deep sea of warm, sweet comfort, surrounded and safe and it would feel wonderful whoever was doing, like the most absurd trust exercise in vulnerability except, it’s Nate, and Nick would hold himself open to the waist and let Nate root around in him for spare parts if he wanted.

Nate’s cock is hard against his thigh, Nate shudders when Nick wraps his good hand around it, tuns his face up hungrily for a panting kiss.

And they stay, like that. Just like that. And it must look utterly absurd to anyone- the very idea is absurd, a half wrecked synth and a human with half his marbles gone on a filthy bed in a nuclear wasteland. But then, what isn’t strange and bizarre here? Nate rolls his head back and groans happily into Nick’s side, sliding back down until the two of them are curled up on the bed, Nate shivering and breathing deep and heavy, both hands on Nick’s back, roaming hungrily and mapping out new pathways of wires and sensors and bleeding out warm pleasure.

Nate comes with a low, languid shudder, over Nick’s leg and hand and his own stomach. His hands still for a moment, and Nick moves them away carefully. It’s enough, it’s more than enough, he can close his eyes and drift for most of the evening, like flying, or being deep underwater.

“Love you,” Nate mumbles, slurred.

“Yeah.” It doesn’t feel quite right, to say it back so much. Nate hands out declarations like he does flowers, like kisses, and it works for him. Nick- Nick doesn’t quite work like that, maybe if he says the words too much, they’ll wear out and break like everything else has around them.

But Nate just nods, like he knows what Nick is thinking. He reaches down and grabs the rag from Nick’s bucket and cleans the both off, mumbling what might be an apology and might be something more intimate, but it’s doesn’t matter. It’s good. One thing in this broken, impossible world, is good.

Deacon/any, edging

[(Anonymous)]

Deacon knows how to keep someone (your choice) on the edge for as long as he wants.

+ for begging
++ for Danse

Cait/Piper or Cait/Curie, stone Cait

[(Anonymous)]

Cait's not into getting any reciprocation herself, but there's nothing she likes more than to treat her gf like a queen and to make her see stars all night long.

Oral, fingering, dirty talk, massages, toys... whatever you want to include.