Wanton Wasteland: Home Run


Fiona takes Mac to her house in Diamond City to play with his bat and balls, but things get serious. Based on my first playthrough of Fallout 4, this story takes place after MacCready’s Wooden Soldier and before Wanton Wasteland: Hangman’s Alley 

If you’d like to see Fiona and my Fallout 4 videos, check out my YouTube channel.

2,000 words.


Home Run

On the outskirts of Diamond City, a guard wearing a catcher’s helmet and chest pad called out. “Hey, MacCready, long time, no see. You still an asshole?” 

“Hey, Pete,” Mac sassed back. “You kiss your mother with that mouth? Or just your sister?” 

At the gate, a guard stopped Fiona. “Sweetheart, you got something stuck to your shoe and it’s trailing along behind you. Want me to remove it?” 

He guffawed and brandished his wooden bat as they walked away. 

“You have a lot of friends here?” she asked Mac in a low voice. 

“Haven’t been to Diamond City in years, but I guess I made a lasting impression.” 

The town looked more like a scrapyard than a settlement, built in what used to be a baseball stadium. Mac paused to look over the jumble of flashing lights, crooked signs and muddy baselines. He seemed pensive and melancholy. 

“Why so sad, Slim?” 

He’d probably gained ten pounds since she hired him because she was constantly making him eat. But she still used the nickname because it still fit. 

“Last time I was here, I was with Lucy. It just feels weird, you know?” 

“Yeah, I know. I was here with Nate over two hundred years ago. We sat up there.” She pointed to the stands above third base. “First time I came back, after leaving the vault, this all felt like a bad dream. But now, the past, my past, the distant past… That’s the part that feels like a dream.” 

Mac heaved a heavy sigh and followed her to Power Noodles, where she bought two bowls of ramen and some cold Nuka Cola. 

He inhaled his food and asked the robotic chef Takahashi if seconds were free. They weren’t. Under his breath, he murmured. “At fifty-five caps a bowl, they should be.” 

She bought him a second bowl. 

He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “You keep buying me dinner and you’re going to be stuck with me for a long time.” 

“That’s the idea, handsome.” She smiled, clinking her soda bottle against his. “Cheers.” 

After dinner, Fiona took him to a door just a few paces from the food stand and invited him inside. She yanked the chain of a hanging bulb, illuminating two large rooms connected by a wide corridor. Very spacious by wasteland standards, but the rooms were currently crammed with a bunch of shit left behind by the former occupant. 

“Whoa, wait a minute. You’ve got a place right by the market? Who’d you have to kill to get this?” 

She closed and locked the door behind them. “Nelson Latimer’s son. I intercepted his drug shipment and made a load of caps off of it. This seemed like a solid investment.” 

“Damn. I don’t know whether to be terrified or impressed.” 

“A little of both?” 

They dropped their packs in a shopping cart and disarmed, arranging their weapons on a broken table propped up by cement blocks. 

Mac kicked some tires and dug around in a box of tools. “Is all this crap yours?” 

She struggled with a stuck drawer in an old bureau. “Yeah, I gotta sort through it and get a provisioner to haul the useful stuff out to the settlements that need it.” 

“Or just sell it to Percy and make a small fortune.” 

“Or Myrna.” 

“Screw Myrna. She still think everyone’s a synth?” 

Fiona got the drawer open far enough to reach inside. She pulled out a Grognak comic and handed it to him. “Here. I wanted you to have this.” 

His blue eyes widened. “Jungle of the Bat-Babies? I didn’t even know this one existed. Where did you get it?” 

“It was Nate’s. One of the few things I found in our house after I left the vault.” 

As he flipped the yellowed pages, his face seemed to transform, losing its tension and perpetual sneer, and the creases around his mouth and eyes vanished. He suddenly looked very, very young. 

“How old are you?” 

“Hm?” He didn’t look up. “Uh… twenty-two, I think. Give or take a few months. I don’t know my birthday.” 

“Jesus. I thought you were closer to my age.” 

“Two hundred and thirty?” 

“Two hundred and forty.” 

“You don’t look a day over a hundred.” 


He closed the book and returned it carefully to the bureau. With a crooked, playful smile, he slipped his arms around her waist and said, “Don’t worry, grandma, I still think you’re gorgeous.” 

“I wasn’t fishing for compliments.” 

“Well, I’m going to give you some, because you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m being serious, now. You want to talk about dreams, I keep thinking I’m dreaming because nothing in my life has ever been this good. I’ve got the Gunners off my ass, I’ve got a cure for Duncan, I’ve got someone who cares about me and… I’ve got Jungle of the Bat-Babies!”  

Fiona smiled. She hugged him close and whispered in his ear. “We should finish what we started at the Castle.” 

“The mutants?” 

“No, the other thing.” She unbuttoned her top. 

“Riiiiiiiight… that thing.” 

Taking hold of her chin, Mac guided her mouth to his. He tasted like a soda-drenched ashtray and smelled like dirty laundry but she didn’t give a shit. The things she did give a shit about were having a light-footed sharpshooter watching her back and a companion who understood what it meant to be a parent and how it felt to lose a spouse. 

She removed the scarf around his neck and kissed the sweaty, dusty skin at his throat. He shrugged off his one-armed coat while she unbuttoned his shirt from top to bottom. Then she dropped to her knees to unbuckle his pants. She kissed the thin trail of hair below his navel, but when she tried to go further, he squirmed away. 

“Whoa! Hey, you don’t have to do that.” 

“I want to.” 

He pulled her to her feet. “People do that kind of stuff when they’re desperate. Sometimes the Gunners force people to do it. It’s just… wrong, okay? Chowing down on somebody’s rank case of feral crotch. You don’t ever have to do that to me.” 

“Okay, Mac, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Didn’t you and your wife ever–?” 

“I would never treat anyone like a chem whore or a captive, let alone my wife.” 

He obviously had some negative associations, so she didn’t press the issue. “Is using my hand okay?” 

“Sure, if you want t– ohh…” He gasped when she grasped his rock hard shaft. 

“Am I squeezing too much?” 

“N-no… it’s…” He cleared his throat. “It’s fine. Better than fine. It’s g-good, actually.”  

She went on kissing and touching him while he fumbled with her bra, gave up, pushed the straps down her arms and grabbed her tits. 

They moved closer to a bed in the corner, which she’d covered with a patchwork blanket made of scavenged scraps and some fabric from Fallon’s Basement. 

Fiona stripped and laid down but he just stood there, staring at her, his pants sliding down his ass. He took off his hat and ran a hand through his messy hair.   

“I want to…” He shuffled toward the bed. “God! I want to be with you more than I want to shoot a deathclaw between the eyes at five hundred paces. But what if… What if we make a kid?” 

“I don’t know if that can even happen. I mean, maybe, but my cycle’s been weird ever since I left the vault. Might be the cryofreeze process or the radiation out here or something.” 

He sat on the edge of the bed. “But if it happened…” 

“If you’re worried, we can do other things. Things that don’t make babies.” She rubbed his shoulders and nibbled his ear. “Or you could pull out before you finish.” 

He growled but it sounded more like frustration than arousal. 

“I don’t want to do other things. I don’t want to pull out.” He turned and looked in her eyes. “I want to have a baby with you. I want us to be together. You, me, Duncan… Shaun, when we find him. I want a family again.” 

He said “when.” Not “if.” When we find Shaun. 

Her eyes welled up with tears. “We would have a very cute baby.” 

“Really, Fi?” 

“Yeah.” She sniffled. “Sorry, I’m being stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid to cry.” He wiped a tear from her cheek. “You know what’s stupid? Stupid is FIFTY-FIVE CAPS for a BOWL OF RAMEN. Sheesh.” 

She laughed. 

“I should give up killing people and open a noodle stand in the Third Rail,” he said, yanking off his boots and pants. “What was I thinking?” 

He got on top of her and she wrapped her arms and legs around him. His bony hips dug into her thighs as he ground his dick against her clit. She shifted her hips and he slid inside, but he didn’t pump. 

He took several deep, ragged breaths that made her wonder if he was trying not to come too soon. Grunting and gritting his teeth, he pulled out and slid in again, slowly, but with each stroke, he thrust faster and harder. 

Grasping his tight ass in her hands, she wasn’t just fucking Mac, she was fucking the idea that they would rebuild the lives they’d both lost to tragedy. It felt so good. She felt happier than she’d been in months. 

“Yes, yes, yes, give it to me, yes…” She dug her fingers into his skin, moaning as sexual tension built and then surged through her, like a dam breaking. 

With a final, deep thrust, he shuddered and collapsed, gasping like he’d just run all the way from the Capital Wasteland. She could feel his rapid heartbeat against her chest. He groaned and rolled onto his back beside her, wiping the sweat from his forehead. 

“God da– I mean… heck.” 

It was the most ardant “heck” she’d ever heard. She cuddled up to him and played with the curls of hair around his nips. “You don’t have to curb your language for me. Especially not when we’re fucking.” 

“When we’re what?” 

“You heard me.” 

He smiled his wicked mischievous irresistible smile. ”No, I’m sorry, what were we doing?” 

She climbed on top of him, straddled his crotch, cupped her tits in her hands, and hammed a breathy, seductive voice. “You were fucking me with that long sniper rifle you call a cock and shooting a load deep into my hot, wet target.”

“You know it’s a good idea to shoot twice, just to make sure.” He grabbed her ass, grinding against her, and she could feel him getting hard again.  

“Wow, you really are twenty-two, aren’t you?” 


Later, they sat on the roof, listening to the radio and watching the night market. Arturo, Polly and Moe closed up their shops. Geneva walked home from the mayor’s office. Piper’s sister Nat hawked copies of the local newspaper. Percy took over for Myrna. 

Mac wore his pants and shirt again, but he’d left the shirt unbuttoned. Fiona was more interested in watching the wiry merc than Diamond City. She reached for his hand and his fingers entwined with hers. 

“We could live here when Duncan arrives. He could go to school.” 

The red ember of his cigarette brightened with his inhale, then dimmed. Mac shook his head, exhaling a white cloud of smoke. “Bill and Maria are coming with him. That ghoul couple I told you about, who’ve been taking care of him for me. They wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near the green walls.” 

“That’s such bullshit. This place ever needs the Minutemen, I’m going to send every ghoul we have in our ranks.” 

“It’s what got the mayor elected. The wall is there to protect the decent people of Diamond City from synths, ghouls, vagrants and other ‘filth’ of the wasteland.” 

“All the types that Hancock takes into Goodneighbor.” 


“What about that big house, near Covenant? Preston called it Taffington House or something like that. We found it when we went to Med-Tek for Duncan’s medicine. Had a stove, a garden and a water source.” 

“Yeah, that place was nice. We’d just need to fix the roof and bury the bodies.” 

* * * 

~ J.L. Hilton

MacCready’s Wooden Soldier <– Previous story

Next story —> Wanton Wasteland: Hangman’s Alley

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