emerding
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“Thank you, Charon,” she says, looking down at the mug in her hand. A lump forms in her throat, overwhelming emotion threatening to take over. “For taking care of me. You didn’t have to.”
“I do,” he says, his voice a low murmur across the crackling of the fire.
“You don’t,” she says, clutching at the handle. “I’ve read your contract. It applies to combat only. Not— my emotional well being. What would I do without you?”
“Survive,” he says, “like always.”
—
The Lone Wanderer wakes up outside Vault 106 with a lump on her head and a monster they couldn’t even have dreamed up in the vault looking down over her.
It’s not that she doesn’t know she has amnesia. It’s just a little hard to believe it's been three years since she left Vault 101 when she doesn’t even have the memories of leaving.
Bookmarked by emerding
29 Jun 2026
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Ahzrukhal was a bastard, but bastards like him were predictable and predictability was something Charon appreciated.
There was no predicting how a new employer might act and for Charon, that could prove worse then the monotonous hell he had become accustomed to, so when a smooth-skin wanders into Underworld and buys his contract, all he can hope is that they're at least boring in their abuse.
What he gets is a young man who wants nothing to do with him.
Bookmarked by emerding
26 Jun 2026
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Prompt fill from the New Fallout Kink Meme:
Ghoul companion of your choice is escorting some smooth skin through an area densely populated by feral ghouls and comes to the conclusion that the safest bet for getting their human through that mess alive and intact...is to cum inside/on them until they reek of radiated seed so much so that the ferals will smell nothing but ghoul and leave them alone.
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Bookmarked by emerding
20 Jun 2026
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“Do you like it?” she asks, taking the yellow-print fabric of her sundress between her fingers.
“Yes,” Charon says. And then, almost like it pains him to say aloud, to express his feelings— “You look very pretty.”
“Thank you, Charon,” she says, and then to show her appreciation that he’s trying to be more vocal— for her, for their son— she raises up on her toes to kiss his mouth. When she settles down, she plays with the string at her breasts, holding the top closed with a bow she’d tied just below the halter top. “I thought it might be good to have something easy to remove,” she says. “To make it easier to feed Jamie, and,” she says, tugging the knot free, her breasts spilling over, “his Daddy.”
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Bookmarked by emerding
13 Jun 2026
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When he finally speaks, Charon says, “There’s a crib.”
“Yeah?” she says, crossing her arms, leaning in the doorway. Her eyes drag from her husband to the crib in the center of the room.
But before she has a chance to ask— did you change your mind? it’s okay, you can tell me— Charon is speaking again.
“We’re going to need a crib,” he says, his voice low. Almost shy. “For the baby.”
She reaches up to his face, touching his cheeks. She looks up at him with what surely must be stars in her eyes. I love you, I love you, I love you.
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Bookmarked by emerding
13 Jun 2026