Fallout X Reader One Shots

Arcade Gannon ➵ Angel

Arcade Gannon
Fallout New Vegas
Warning: Slight Gore, Cursing

I slumped against a wall, sliding down and going to the side. I muttered a ragged curse as I was seated. I reached over, wincing to slam the door. Nothing could take me down so easily! Except Cazador's and bullets. I wasn't sure how I made it out, and entered an old radio tower, sitting in the small dark room. Always figured I'd die alone. Maybe not under these circumstances, but death was death. Who was I to complain? I wondered whether I'd die from Cazador poison, or the bullet wound in the ribs. Either way, I wouldn't last the night. The door opened, and was slammed hastily, my head whipped to the side. I watched as a man locked it, and turned around, jumping at the sight of me, "Holy-! I didn't expect anyone to be in here! Sorry!" He put his hand on the door handle, but stopped to look at me, "Are you hurt?"

I nodded, "Yeah. I'll be gone soon, so you can just toss my body out the window and get on with your buisness." Smiling kindly, I added, "Bury me, too, if you'd be so kind."

He frowned, getting to my side on the ground, "I'm a doctor, don't be so pessimistic." He looked around and yanked a first aid kit from the bag he dropped when he came in. I looked at the patch on his chest, and a similar one on his arm, "You're a Follower? From Freeside?"

He looked at me, and adjusted his glasses, "Yes." He stayed serious as he reached for bandages, "If you could remove your shirt."

I kept my palm pushed to my wound, "I don't think I can do that without blacking out. Got a pair of scissors?"

He looked at me, pulling out a pair of surgical scissors and removing my top as much as he could from the wound. He spoke to me as he gave me a bitter tasting drink for the poison, "Why aren't you wearing armor out here?"

I swallowed thickly, not drinking all of it. He frowned and raised it back to my lips, forcing me to finish it. I licked at my bottom lip uncomfortably, "I wasn't supposed to be out here as long as I was. Just supposed to deliver a package and get home."

He froze up for a moment, "You're a Courier?"

"Yes. Why?"

He shook his head, "Nothing. Courier's just don't tend to have the best of luck, from what I've heard."

I chuckled, "Perhaps it's something to do with being flighty. Is there anything you need me to do?"

He looked at me, nodding to the corner to my left, "Grab that fabric-looking thing." I did so, and he took it in his hand, and squeezed it before handing it back to me, "Should be a good enough stress ball. Talk to me while I do this."

I watched carefully and silently as he got a pair of tweezers and a bottle of water. He wettened a clean cloth, and gently removed my hand from the wound, soaking it clean. He grabbed the tweezers, and removed the rest of the cloth scraps, "Who were you shot by?"

I shrugged, "I-" I inhaled sharply and clenched my jaw as he spread the wound a little to try to find the bullet, "I- uhm... I think I was hit by a stray bullet. Think there was someone shooting at the Cazadors and missed."

He frowned, "Still, that's odd... Were you near a settlement or anything?"

I shrugged, "God, I don't know. Pardon me for not being able to focus."

"Don't worry about it." He looked at my bag, "You have any chems in there?"

I narrowed my eyes, "I'm no addict." He rolled his eyes as he picked up what looked like... I frowned, "Is that a tampon?"

He nodded and unwrapped it, "Yes. I studied war tactics from before the last war, and on the field, when shot, soldiers would stick these in the bullet wounds. They suck up a lot of blood and clog it until you can get further help. I'm just gonna stick it in, to clear a path, and pull it out. It's gonna hurt like a... well... like a bullet, I guess. Speak to me."

I did so, mumbling about some of the unique places I'd been to. He asked questions, keeping the conversation as he slowly entered the cloth in me and yanked it out. He then grabbed the tweezers before the blood blocked his view again, and carefully removed the bullet. He dropped it all and taped bandages to my side.

He looked at me from above the rim of his glasses, "What's your name?"

"Y/N. Yours?"

"Arcade." He went back to his first aid kit, "It's a pleasure." I watched as he got a syringe, "Where was it you were stung?" He filled it with some type of brown liquid. I showed him an area on my leg, and then an area on my shoulder blade. He held out a hand, making me hold the syringe. He leaned me forward gently, and pushed his lips to my shoulder, extracting the poison then spitting it out with a disgusted look on his face. He repeated the process on my leg, and quickly took the syringe.

I watched the god-looking man as he carefully filled the wounds with a sort of anti-venom he said he'd been waiting to try out. He then looked to me, "I probably should have asked this first, but do you have any Stimpaks?"

I shook my head, "If I did, I would have used them, trust me."

He sighed, and began cleaning up his medical supplies. Packing it all up, he set it to the side and moved next to me. I already felt so much better. He must have been a favored doctor. I looked to him, "Where did you learn all this?"

His eyes seemed to look away from my waist hastily. He blushed, "My... mom taught me."

God, he was an awful liar. Or maybe he was always this nervous. I didn't question it further, "Thanks for fixing me up."

"It's... no problem."

I adjusted my position so I could lean back more comfortably, "Do you mind if I... stay with you for a while?" He chuckled and said he was just about to ask me that, for healing purposes of course. I thanked him again, "You wouldn't happen to have an extra shirt, would you?"

He blushed, "Oh, uhm, of course..." he grabbed a bland white one, and helped me slide it on over my wound carefully. He stood up, rolling out sleeping bags and putting a chair under the door handle for further safety measures. He lit a lamp, and I watched him.

He was insanely tall. Nice, long legs. Great thighs. Eyes. Great eyes, I mean. I shook my head, going back to his facial features. A nice jaw, pink lips. Oh, God, maybe I did die. Was I in heaven? No... if I were, my ribs wouldn't be throbbing. I rubbed my temple and he immediately looked to me, "Are you alright?"

I smiled weakly, "Yeah, I'm fine... Just tired."

Author's Note
Hope you enjoyed!! Any requests??