Fallout Preferences and Oneshots

Sole dying in their arms (bonus Skinny Malone)

(There are quite a few characters I didn't do..so anyone can request those individual and I'll see about writing them at a later date..just..wow. Ummm..major trigger warnings btw)

It was inevitable..wasn't it? Deep down, this truth was just one of those that was inescapable. The fearsome Sole Survivor was many things; they were determined, they were skilled, they were adaptable..they were amazing in every way- a paragon of a person..however there is one thing they were not.

Indestructible.

No one was. Shit, the Wasteland loved to remind people of that- be it in the forms of ghouls, hellish monsters or whatever- so perhaps this day shouldn't have came as such a surprise. Nevertheless, there was no comfort found within this knowledge.

The day was too pretty of one for something like this to happen. The sunshine was bright, not a cloud in the sky- a gentle breeze passing the pair by as they scavenged the archaic ruins for copper of all things- fucking copper.

Raiders were common in these kinds of areas, but that was no issue. Sole had no issue handling raiders, or anything else for that matter. Well, or so they thought.

Soon the peacefulness of that lovely day was interrupted by the whizzing of bullets and the shouts of obscenities as a small band of raiders made their presence known- effectively ambushing the pair. It was sort of funny in a fucked up way. The fight itself lasted barely ten minutes, just a blue of adrenaline and silent prayers, and the warmth of that beautiful sunshine beating on their back.

They hadn't noticed the blue of that infamous jump suit staining red until it was far too late, not until the wearer collapsed down to their knees as though they were about to beg for the life slowly fading either such rivet of blood being spilled.

Now it was even quicker.

Of course, they rushed to their precious Sole Survivor, horrified, yet still hopeful. They'd try so hard to lift them up, dread filling their veins whenever their loved one cried out in pain from the movement. However they still thought that somehow their dear would make it. Maybe it was foolish naivety.

Then there it was, a certain look within the Sole Survivor's eyes that held a promise. This was it. This was it and all they could do was watch as they died, the lovely sunlight and peaceful breeze serving as the only witness to this atrocity.

This wasn't right. Why did the world not reflect the way this scene was playing out? This was no time for sunshine and happiness, not when the only person they've loved so profoundly could only give them a watery smile..not as they slowly lost the strength to hold their hand to their cheek...

Not as the light finally dimmed and the world as they knew it was consumed by the darkness their former light now took away.

~~~~~~

Cait:

"Son of a bitch..sweetheart, you can't just..you can't just leave me like this- it's..it's not right! You come back, fuck! Please! Come come back.."

•Cait wasn't one to cry, always being more predispositions for rage than tears...however despite how hard she tried all she could do was wail until all that came out was dry tears and hoarse yells.

•After this, Cait would isolate herself from others save for sparking up terrjbke brawls where she knew she was outmatched.

•She just hoped she would finally lose the fight.

Curie:

"Please hang on, I-I can fix you! Please, mon amour, don't leave Curie just yet!"

•She's completely in shock, frantically trying to administer Med-x, Stimpacks, Jet- anything! All it does is worsen your condition unfortunately, the chems overwhelming you and eating at what remained of your life that much faster.

•A piece of her knew this, deep down at least.

•Let's just say, Curie wouldn't quite be the same after this. Not just in the "I lost someone I loved kind of way", no, more in the "I've seen far too much and can't quite cope" kind of way. Her eyes would forever be scarred with the image of your own becoming red from the busted blood vessels and your horrified, sweet face.

Danse:

"I'm truly sorry..damn it..I'm sorry I couldn't protect you either."

•In Danse's mind, you were yet another person he cared for that got killed because of his negligence. Only your death was much more profound- yes. With the death of his other brothers and sisters, he could still soldier through..but with you? The person he could only regard with love? He might've as well died with you.

•The only thing Danse can think of to do to hopefully bring you peace is bury you right outside your little home himself, hysterically crying and drunk out of his mind.

•It wouldn't be very long after this that Danse could no longer handle the pain of loss- no amount of liquor taking the vision of your smiling face at your once shared bedside from his mind.

•At least your friends would have the decency to bury him at your side after they got over the shock of finding him.

Hancock:

"Hey sunshine..don't worry, we..we won't be apart for too long. Heh, it's gonna be okay..it's all gonna be alright."

•The small window of time it takes for your life to leave you, Hancock comes to the horrific realization that he was soon to be doomed to a tragically long life without the one person at his side that made him feel worthy of living..

•Without giving it much more thought than that, he'd just simply stroke your cheek- pressing a soft kiss to your head whenever he was certain you had bled out completely, your blood throughly coating his chest and thighs. After the kiss, he'd take a deep breath before drawing his own pistol and..bang.

Maxson:

"P..please..don't leave..no,no,..please don't leave me.."

•If Sarah's death hurt Arthur, your's was devastating.

•Even after he knew full well that you were dead and gone, he still tries his best to keep you "alive". He'd rush you into a vertibird and call for you aid, having to face the fact you were truly gone when Captain Cade clasped him over the shoulder and gave him a solemn look.

•Arthur cried then, and then later into the night until all that came out were pathetic sobs.

•The only thing that keeps him going is his obligation to duty..but..sometimes he considers leaning just a little too close to the gage of the forecastle..maybe fly like some sort of mythical being before finally being able to hold you once more.

Skinny Malone:

"Oh come on doll face, it's..it's gonna between alright. Shhh, I'm right here..just..god..just relax."

•How did this even happen? He knew better than to indulge your need to scavenge..there wasn't even any need with his connections..why..why did this happen?

•He'd try so hard to keep it together, clenching the fabric of your vault suit until eventually his men come to him..then he can't contain the terrible cries that result.

X6-88:

"(Y/n), don't. You..you can't..oh..I..I don't know what to do without you.."

•As someone who knew death so well, he knew from the second you fell, the way that you fell, you were dead.

•Just for you, he'd try to keep that cold exterior he was once so good at portraying..but it lasts a mere second before tears start rolling down his face and spilling onto your's.

•He'd sit there, cradling your cooling body well into the setting of the gloriously shining sun, wondering just what he was going to do from here.

•Nothing. He no longer knew what to do.