#Paladin Danse x Male sole survivor

[gococogo]

Pitch Black Dahlias | PT. 1 | PT.2

Synopsis: The news had taken everyone by shock. The Minutemen had been the one to take down the Institute. It's evil being rid of the Commonwealth once and for all.

But that doesn't mean that Nate's work is over. There is a still a lot to. And that includes helping Danse with his current dilemma of finding out who he truly is. And the pre-war man thinks bringing Danse along on some Railroad jobs will help out.

Hopefully.

Word Count: 2.2K

Pairing: Paladin Danse x Nate (Male Sole Survivor)

Warnings: Slow Burn. Trauma. Eventual Smut.

The only times Danse has had the time to visit to Diamond City, it’s all been for Nate. He sees no need to come to this part of the Commonwealth by himself. Yes, he has travelled and scouted around Diamond City when he was stationed at the Cambridge Station. But even those little expeditions were dangerous at that point of time. Those memories still spark a pang of hurt deep within his chest.

He pushes it aside as he walks down the stairs to the Diamond City centre. He hasn’t seen Nate in two weeks. A whole two weeks since they infiltrated the Institute together with the Minutemen and destroyed the evil from the Commonwealth.

He was more than honoured to do so when Nate had asked him to be by his side. It had given him something to shoot at and fight for.

A part of him only hoped that it would have been the Brotherhood to participate in such a role. But Danse couldn’t argue with Nate when he was set in his ways. His mind was made up ages ago. The whole ordeal out of the Listening Post was probably what tipped him over the edge. It always something that Danse stills ponders on. Still thinking that that day was his last.

But he’s still here, alive, as a synth can get, and standing naked in Diamond City. Not naked per say, but he feels like it.

He’s come without his power armour at Nate’s request. He felt more at home inside of one. But the fact that Nate had asked him to come without one? It made him feel weary travelling from the Castle to Diamond City without it. But he trusts Nate’s judgement even if it might be questionable at times.

Like standing still while aiming down his scope as a super mutant suicider came barrelling his way. Danse was still his sponsor back then and hounded into Nate for being so stupid. He left it out of the report, but that doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing he did for the Brotherhood matters.

He pulls his bomber jacket closer around his chest, the late autumn breeze cold today. He ventures through the market to Nate’s residents at the Home Plate, ignoring the multiple people calling his way trying to upsell their products. He doesn’t need a haircut, or some ammo, or a… swatter? He eyes the red faced man before continuing on.

Anyways.

Danse gives three sharp knocks on the door and takes a step away. He eyes the empty power armour rack, wondering where Nate has kept his T-45. It wasn’t at the Castle, he just came from there. Maybe he’s left it up at the Red Rocket with his wide collection of power armours. He waits a few minutes before knocking again. He doesn’t want to intrude even though he knows Nate wouldn’t care. It’s more out of respect than anything.

“Danse.”

Slowly -at the sound of the very unique voice-, the ex-Paladin turns to meet the synth detective with a frown. Valentine narrows his gaze to him with a raised brow.

“Valentine,” he responds back blandly.

“Glad to see you out and about after everything,” the detective says with as much sarcasm as possible.

“Where’s Nate?” Danse gets to the point, his tone blunt and firm.

But Valentine doesn’t faulter to the demand. His stark yellow eyes flickers behind the former soldier before back at him. “He’s this way,” he says instead with a small wave of his hand.

Danse hesitates for a moment, glancing to the door before reluctantly following after Valentine. He’s well aware that his hate towards the synth is something that’s hypocritical. Yet there’s something so intertwined in Danse’s heart that he hasn’t been able to rid himself of yet. Could be the same reason why he was so ready to die by Nate’s hands. Dropped to his knees and begged that he needed to be the example, not the exception.

Yet Nate had still dragged him from his knees and pleaded. Showed him mercy that Danse didn’t deserve. The ex-Paladin doesn’t think he deserved it. He’s heard from others that Nate has a bleeding heart and Danse wouldn’t be the one to object to those claims. Sometimes it’s a dangerous thing. Getting them into more trouble at times.

The two don’t get far. Valentine stops just outside the chems store and points a skinny, metal finger upwards. Danse looks up without a word and doesn’t see it at first, but when he does he can’t help but stare.

There’s a small, makeshift balcony atop of Nate’s residents, one that overlooks the city. A grand view of the place. It’s a lovely little spot that Nate paid a pretty cap for. But there in his little red throne -a single seater couch- with his head lolled onto his chest, is Nate fast asleep. His hands are overlapped on his torso with his legs outstretched. He reminds Danse of one of those older settlers at Sanctuary that can be seen napping the day away. Every, single, day.

“How long has he been up there?” Danse asks casually. His shoulders have relaxed and his head is slightly cocked to the side like a dog.

“Around three hours now,” Valentine answers with a chuckle. “As far as I know from Piper they came back from the Railroad. They’ve been keeping him on his toes lately trying to help the synths you and him helped out.”

Danse swallows thickly. “It was all him.”

“Whatever you say, big guy,” Valentine speaks softly. “But at least give yourself some credit.”

There’s no response to that and the synth detective hums at that.

“Is that why I haven’t seen high or nigh of you lately? Didn’t want to deal with other synths?” Valentine asks, jabbing at this point.

Danse swallows thickly and changes the subject. “Why was Piper with him?”

Valentine lightly rolls his eyes and looks back up Nate. “She wanted a story. The aftermath of the Institute and what nots. Don’t know how good it’ll be with the Railroad wanting to stay hidden and all.”

“Does it matter anymore with the Institute gone?” Danse asks a genuine question.

It takes Valentine back a bit, the question actually making him wonder. “To some degree, yeah. There’s still synths out there that believe in what the Institute was doing.” The detective pauses for a moment, staring at the soldier. “You’d know that if you didn’t go off hiding away. Nate needs you right now more than ever.”

Danse swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “I’ll wake him,” is all he murmurs before walking off.

He brings the spare keys to Home Plate out of his jacket pocket and unlocks the door. He wouldn’t normally let himself in, despite Nate having told him in the past that this place is more welcome to call home than anywhere else. Like the Castle and Sanctuary.

“It’s ours,” he has said once. It sounds weird on his mind as it did hearing it the first time from Nate’s mouth.

Yet whenever Danse is at those settlements as well, he feels more of the need to keep on his toes and work. Make sure that everything is in order, checking the defence systems more moving onto the water supplies, then onto the generators. Keeping his mind and body preoccupied so that he doesn’t have to think of other pressing matters. Just like the Brotherhood had ironed into him.

But Home Plate, it’s probably the only place that Danse has ever felt relaxed. The noise that seeps in through the thin walls of the place reminds him all too well of the Prydwyn, an all too welcoming murmur of noise. Theres no checklists at Home Plate. Only the mundane need to keep the place tidy of dust and other critters that decide to make themselves home.

Danse is quick to take himself up the stairs to the balcony. He opens the door as quietly as he can, peering around the corner to where Nate still sleeps peacefully on the couch. The ex-Paladin can’t help but watch for a moment with his brown eyes. The usual frown that has somehow become a permanent thing on Nate’s face has now smoothed out.  

With a quick glance out below, Valentine is nowhere to be seen and the people of Diamond City pay them no mind. One other thing that was ironed into Danse was their concept on attraction. A Paladin had to be at his best at all times. And that meant to having someone you love dearly being on your mind. The quality and the care for a Paladin’s garrison was all that Danse was able to think about.

Yes, he had come to a point in his sponsorship with Nate that his brewing feelings could mean something much more. Seeing someone being able to hold their own and being able to lead. It had wanted Danse to know more about Nate and who he was before the war. What things were like back then.

Slowly, Danse kneels down to one knee next to Nate’s outstretched legs. He brings a hand up gently and caresses the sleeping man’s face who stirs. Nate inhales deeply as his dark blue eyes blink awake through a squinted, peeping gaze. He looks to Danse with a bleary expression before a warm smile comes to his lips. He leans into the rough hand on his face, cupping it with his own. He turns his face into Danse’s palm and gives it a light kiss, his movements still filled with the grogginess of sleep.

“I think I may still be dreaming,” Nates murmurs groggily.

Danse stands up and places a kiss to the other’s forehead. “Rise and shine.”

Nate groans loudly as he stretches his stiff joints in the couch. He looks out to the small city and blinks.

No matter how much the Brotherhood had said about attraction and love, Nate had always made it feels welcoming though. Something that Danse still finds himself having trouble pulling away from. These past two weeks have been hell sent. But he won’t admit that out loud where the world can hear.

Nate then looks to his pip-boy as he licks his lips. His face goes from placid to wide and frantic within less than a second.  

“I was out for over three hours!?” He exclaims as he suddenly sits up straight.

Danse responds quickly with, “Your body needed the rest after everything you’ve been putting yourself through.”

Nate stands up, running a hand through his hair as his peace is disrupted by his own mind and responsibilities once more. This is probably the first time in months that Nate has had some time to himself.

“We’re going to be late!” Nate exclaims. “Did you let me sleep that long?” He asks with no bite to his tone.

“I only just arrived here,” Danse states.

That seems to calm the other man down a bit, his tense shoulders sagging. “Okay then we would have been late anyways,” Nate says more to himself than to the ex-Paladin.

“Why did you want me here?” Danse asks.

Deep blue eyes focus back onto the soldier. “Did you pick up those care packages?” He asks.

Danse could make a comment. A bad comment that would most likely have Nate snapping at him. Because why did Nate have him go to a Railroad drop point to meet up with Deacon of all people to hand him this, box? A care package of some sorts. Deacon hadn’t said much, had just said good luck before moving on with a fat grin on his face. He had tipped his wig of hair like some man in a suit would tip their fedora. It was odd and only had Danse confused even further.

But knowing that this job had to do with the Railroad, he couldn’t help but let that old hatred towards them linger and simmer. He’s aware it’s wrong, they help others of his kind. Synths. Yet there it was, that distaste that comes to his tongue whenever he’s near them or mentioned.

So, he replies with a simple and bland, “Yes.”

Nate picks up on his though and looks to him with a raised brow. “You didn’t do anything stupid with Deacon, did you?” He asks with a hand on his hip.

Danse’s brows shoot up. He should be offended at Nate saying such a thing! “No! I wouldn’t harm one of your contacts even if they’re-“ he cuts himself short. “I wouldn’t,” he repeats himself, his voice more on the verge of a whine than anything else. He clears his throat, hoping to cover it up.  

He shuffles around inside of his bomber jacket and holds out the two care packages to Nate instead. Hoping to distract the man from his current inner panic.

Nate takes the packages with a thank you. He opens them both up without a word, looking inside to make sure that everything is intact. From where Danse stands, he can’t see anything but from the look on Nate’s face, everything is satisfactory.

“Alright!” Nate exclaims as he snaps the packages shut. He places them under his arm as he makes his way back into Home Plate. “I want you to join me for a delivery!”

“A delivery?” Danse can’t help but ask.

“A very, dangerous delivery,” Nate grins slyly before he disappears inside.

Danse can’t help but roll his eyes at the comment. Isn’t everything dangerous when it comes to the man? The way he does things is, questionable. Danse groans to himself, before heading inside after the other.

[mtreebeardiles]

Bonds of Smoke and Steel, ch. 6

Had this chapter mostly written for like....forever...

Full chapter over on AO3 -- chapter does have an explicit scene in it as a heads up

Preview:

"Not big on subtlety, are they?"

There was a teasing edge to Taylor's voice, but it didn't do much to erase the awe Danse could see in his face. He found himself smiling a little, more than a bit proud at the display being showcased above. 

He'd been reasonably sure the Prydwen would come; several recon teams already lost to the Commonwealth, all efforts pointing to energy level anomalies that couldn't -- and shouldn't -- be ignored, and it was in keeping with Elder Maxson's hands-on approach that he would come with a strong contingent of the Brotherhood. 

And that meant arriving in their pride and joy. 

The Prydwen was a marvel of engineering, capable of holding an impressive number of knights, scribes, initiates, as well as their higher-ups. Danse had personal quarters of his own up there, for all he didn't have much in terms of sentimental items or keepsakes. But it was practical, with access to Proctor Ingram's armor bay, a fully functioning infirmary, labs, and plenty of space for the scribes to do their work processing and tagging any interesting technological finds -- which Danse's team had plenty to hand over. 

As they watched the airborne vessel anchor itself into place over the remnants of the Boston Airport, several smaller craft detached and cycled out in scouting patterns -- Vertibirds, and Danse quickly spotted one angling in their direction. 

"C'mon," he urged, heading back towards the police station. "They're going to want a full report -- and officially welcome you to our ranks."

Taylor's awe continued once they were aboard. Their Vertibird pilot had given him the go-ahead to use the mounted machine gun to track potential threats down below -- Super mutants in particular needed little prompting to try shooting them down -- and while the flight to the Prydwen was uneventful it still felt good to see Taylor get a better taste of what the Brotherhood was capable of beyond Danse's reduced recon team. 

He enjoyed it while he could, tagging along as Taylor got a quick tour of the ship, a medical check-up and, Danse was pleased to note, a Brotherhood power armor set. T60, in far better shape than the man's old T45, and the Paladin was pleased to see the way Taylor smiled as the other man ran a hand along the chest plate and the insignia it bore. 

Then he was whisked away to meet with Maxson amongst other initiates, and Danse took that time to file his own reports and update his team's assignments.  

They met up again in the mess, news having already spread about Taylor's new rank -- well earned and well worn already, so far as Danse was concerned, and he couldn't help the burst of pride he felt when the other man joined him at last. 

"Congratulations, Knight," he said, clasping Taylor's shoulder. "You deserve it."

A faint flush crept into Taylor's cheeks, that slightly crooked grin pulling at his lips and Danse fought down the urge to lean in and kiss him. 

"Did Elder Maxson give you your assignment?"

"Said you and I were going to tackle Fort Strong?"

"Correct, Knight. Take a moment to familiarize yourself with your new armor and we'll depart right after."

They were taken to their destination via Vertibird, engaging in some aerial fighting when they spotted a hulking behemoth of a Super Mutant on the scene. Taylor set to the task with the sort of keen precision Danse was coming to expect from him, and he briefly wondered if the new Knight had previous aircraft experience. Not unlikely; bombers would've been more common during the earlier wars, but he wasn't as certain if they'd had craft quite like this. 

Necessity breeds innovation. Something quoted to him, once, but he couldn't recall from whom. 

He shook the thoughts away, refocusing, allowing himself just a moment to contemplate after, after, after. After this mission, after their reports, after they saw to their armor…

After his obligations were met, he and Taylor could finally talk.

----

"So how'd you rank your first day as an official Brotherhood Knight?"

The question was pitched low for Taylor's ears only as they made their way back along the main deck, heading towards the officers' quarters at the front of the ship. Armor seen to, reports filed with Quinlan, and Taylor's first mission as Knight was a resounding success. Other soldiers were already moving on the cleared area of Fort Strong below, securing it as a staging ground for the Brotherhood's proposed offensive against the Institute. The decks were a flurry of activity, scribes and fellow knights in full armor carrying out orders and kicking up a cacophony that left Danse feeling oddly nostalgic. 

"Not bad," Taylor replied when Danse tugged open the door to his personal quarters and gestured for the other man to go ahead of him. It would be a bit quieter here, at least, than trying to have any manner of conversation in the mess -- even if the conversation wasn't private in nature. And this one decidedly was. 

If Danse didn't lose his nerve, at least. 

"'Not bad?'" 

"Don't have much to compare it to," Taylor pointed out, falling onto Danse's bunk without preamble. He leaned back, legs dangling off the edge as he stretched and folded his hands under his head. His hair was curling slightly, still drying from his brief wash, and Danse found himself distracted all over again. Found himself following the line of Taylor's throat to where it led to the slightly open collar of his shirt, dipping into a hollow he knew from personal experience was a sweet spot for the other man. 

Found himself wishing the showers aboard the Prydwen weren't heavily rationed, that they could go back to Sanctuary and its greater privacy and its illusions of having all the time in the world. 

"Danse?"

"Right." Danse cleared his throat, shaking his head. "That's… fair. Very fair. Well, take it from me, then -- you did an exemplary job down there, Taylor."

"Thank you?"

"…was that a question?"

Taylor was eyeing him now, an eyebrow cocked. 

"I mean, I meant it, but…" Taylor pushed himself up, bracing his elbows on his knees and letting his hands dangle loosely between them. "Kinda getting the feeling you're…distracted. Everything okay?"

"I'm…"

Danse swallowed, feeling oddly exposed and pinned into place by that hazel gaze. 

"I…I wanted to…I'm not sure how to… I did want to talk with you, if that….if that's okay."

Taylor's brow furrowed. 

"Of course," he replied. "You know you can talk to me about anything, Danse."

"…Thank you." Still, he hesitated, clearing his throat again. Wished not for the first time that he had Taylor's ease with words, with expressing himself. That unassuming confidence, that surety in himself. "I… wanted to talk to you about…about our relationship."

Taylor was frowning now. 

"…I… is there a…problem? I thought you said fraternization --"

"--no, no, there's no problem. There's no issue, not… not like that."

"Then like what?"

"Not…" Danse sighed, running a set of fingers through his own still-damp hair. "That came out wrong. There isn't an issue, technical or otherwise."

Taylor's shoulders relaxed. "Okay, that's…that's good…"

"I just, I wanted… I mean, I've enjoyed what we…what we've done, so far. With the um."

"Kissing?"

"That," Danse agreed, his cheeks on fire. "I was just… I guess curious, where you uh… where you stood on…"

Taylor blinked at him, cocking his head to the side as he considered him. Danse felt doubly exposed as those hazel eyes tracked up and down the length of his body. 

"…are you asking if I'd want to do…more than kissing?"

This shouldn't have been difficult. Why was it difficult? He'd had his tongue in Taylor's mouth, sucked bruises into the hollow of his throat, along his collarbones, just below where anyone might see them. He'd had Taylor's hands on his body -- over the clothes for the most part, sure, but…still. 

Why did it feel bigger, somehow, to ask to do that with less separating them?

"…yes."

[comradeacerbus]

To the lovely and cherished readers of my fanfiction on Archive of Our Own, 

I am seriously considering reworking my Fallout 4 fic, Crawl Out Through the Fallout. Nothing huge, just doing some general editing and tuning up the romantic subplot throughout the story so it flows a little more nicely. I feel like I’ve improved a great deal in my writing since the year or three since I’ve written, and since it’s my most popular fic to date, I daresay it could use a little bit of love. (that and i cringe into oblivion when i see my blunders in the original script fuwhefkjhsdkjlfhsadlkjhf)

I would love some opinions

[gaqalesqua]

Danse wonders what his purpose is without the Brotherhood

[iliumheightnights]

Sanctuary | Danse x Male!Sole Survivor

Pairing: Danse x Male Reader Fandom: Fallout 4 Ask: Paladin Danse's response to seeing your network of interconnected settlements, all with heavily-armed defenses and the growth of a new civilization, all without Brotherhood assistance?

~~~ This would totally happen pre-relationship between them. When Danse is still part of the Brotherhood. ~~~

"We're almost there." M/n said as he walked ahead of Danse.

The Paladin made a noise in acknowledgement. He let M/n lead the way. This was a resupply mission. The two were bringing some much-needed supplies to his settlement.

Danse hadn't wanted to deviate from their mission for the brotherhood, but M/n had been a good help and friend. He figured this wouldn't be a bad distraction.

They had just passed through the abandoned city of Concord and were at an old Red Rocket stop. However, the building was surrounded by walls and had a few watch towers.

"M/n! Hey M/n!" One of the guardsmen waved to them. "You stopping in or heading to Sanctuary?"

"Sanctuary! Have to drop off something!"

"Understood! We'll call ahead and tell them you're on your way. Make sure there isn't any surprises or anything."

"Thanks Donick!"

Soon the little outpost was behind them as they continued forward. Danse took the opportunity to ask M/n the question that had popped to his mind. "What was that place?"

"One of our Outposts. It was set up as a good forward waystation to Sanctuary. That way in case Raiders or Bandits try to make a move, we'll be ready for them."

Danse nodded. That made sense. He just hadn't expected that.

Soon both men arrived at a bridge. It was nice and seemed to have been rebuilt. Across the river, a large walled community was seen. Lights were on in the windows with smoke drifting up chimmnies. A whole community. A functioning community.

"Come on. I'm sure if we hurry there will still be some good dinner left for us."

They crossed the bridge and arrived at the gate. Danse noticed how the gate was surrounded by automated machine gun turrents. A few rocket launchers were stationed above the watch towers.

"M/n! You're back! About time too! Doc needs those meds like ASAP."

"Sounds good. Go ahead and open up Rhonda!"

She didn't waste any time. Soon the gate opened up and they could walk through. It was then that Danse noticed how they weren't in the community yet. There was in fact another gate they had to walk through and more turrents. "What? You think we're idle with our safety?" M/n teasingly asked Danse.

The other gate opened as the one they just walked through closed. They were then able to finally enter Sanctuary.

As they walked through the community, Danse couldn't stop looking around. He saw people laughing and smiling. Kids playing around with each other. Pets. He saw pets. Everyone seemed...happy. A lot more than he could say about some of the other brotherhood settlements he had seen.

"Everything alright?" M/n asked once he noticed how Danse seemed to be a bit lost in his thoughts.

"What? Oh! Oh yeah. I'm fine. I just...hadn't expected all of this." He motioned to everything around him. "I'll be honest. I kind of expected a few small shacks and turrents. Not a town."

"Ah. I see. Let me guess, that's what Maxson told you about the commonwealth? That we needed your help?"

"Well...yes."

M/n laughed and shook his head. "Of course." He knew it was the truth. Maxson was a pompous self-absorbed asshat. He thought anything outside of the brotherhood was impure and unnatural. That's why he didn't enjoy being near him.

The two made it to a building that was used as the town's hospital. A doctor in a white coat came rushing to meet them. "PLEASE tell me you have it." M/n smiled and reached into his bag pulling out a few packs of Radaway and some other healing stims. "Right here." The doctor seemed relieved. "THANK YOU." That's all the doctor said before turning around and rushing back to their patients.

"Come on. Let's get something to eat and rest a bit. It's been a long trip." He gave Danse' shoulder a pat and moved out of the building, the larger man following him.

The two were heading towards another building when a man in a long coat and hat approached them. "General! Glad you're back." Preston Garvey. Danse had met him a few times before. Not many, but enough to recognize the man. "We just got a call from Starlight. A group of supermutants tried to get through. Luckily those new turrents ended it rather quickly."

"Good. I'm glad. Any other trouble?"

"The occasional raider here and there, but nothing to really report on."

"Even better news. Thanks Preston."

"General." With that, the minuteman nodded his head and turned to continue his patrol.

"Starlight?"

"One of our other settlements. About twenty-five minutes south of here. Old drive-in." He entered the building with Danse and grabbed two bowls of soup that had been made in the kitchens.

The two sat down on the second story of the building on a patio that overlooked the settlement and a bit of beyond. "Another settlement? How many others are there?" Danse was curious. He had never heard of settlements working together. They were usually on their own.

M/n counted on his fingers and held up five fingers. "Five. Sanctuary and Starlight are two. There's also the Castle, Somerville, and Bunker Hill. Those are our big settlements. There's also a handful of outposts around like the red rocket we passed."

"How did you do this?"

"They really teach you that people suck in the brotherhood huh?" He pointed his spoon at Danse. "People want to live and not fear for their life Danse. Trust and Friendship can do wonders." He took a bite of his soup. "We help each other out. We're connected with the radio towers we built. We also make sure to keep our defenses updated and practice drills regularly. We also share supplies between settlements so that we're all successful."

"And it works?" Danse was amazed at hearing everything he had been told. M/n motioned to the settlement they were in. "Obviously. It's been a few years like this now. Of course, it's not always easy, but we make it work. We REALLY aren't as helpless as you were taught."

"I'm starting to see that." Danse' voice was low. He let a sigh escape his lips before he took a bit of his soup. It tasted nice. Felt very homecooked and filled with warmth.

Was this what home tasted like? If it was, he liked it.

[kb1301]

The Shipping Board

Hello! This is the Shipping Board, where I just put what ship I'm into across different fandoms! OC x Canon ships will occur because I said so. Anything in bold and red means a favorite ship out of favorites.

Call of Duty

Ghostsoap / Soapghost / Ghoap (Original and Reboot)

Korangi / König x Horangi

Ghostkonig / Ghost x König

König x Male OC (still trying to make one)

Ghost x Male OC (same goes here)

Horangi x Male OC (and here)

Keegan x Male OC (and here.)

König x Horangi x Male OC (a dream thing hihi)

König x Ghost x Male OC (and another dream thing)

Kruegernikto

Ghostsoaproach / Ghost x Soap x Roach

Gazprice / Pricegaz

Nikprice

Alerudy

Walruss / Keegan x Logan

Destiny 2

O14 / Osiris x Saint-14 (You cannot go wrong with them)

Shaxx12 / Lord Shaxx x Maximus-12 (Main and Canon for my Warlock)

Saint-14 x Maximus-12

O14 x Lord Shaxx (Thanks to Zalia for this!)

Lord Shaxx x Saint-14 (I need more of this for some reason)

MaxCayde / Cayde-6 x Maximus-12 (A could’ve been ship… though canon within the main universe for my Warlock)

CayShaxx12 / Cayde-6 x Lord Shaxx x Maximus-12 (Max can hold each of their hands… come on now)

Tataaks / Mistag / Misraaks x Tatag-9 (My only OC x Canon for my Exo Titan)

Candal / Cayde-6 x Andal Brask

Felshaxx / Shaxxwinter / Lord Shaxx x Lord Felwinter

O14 x Maximus-12 (AU ship for my Warlock)

O14 x Lord Shaxx x Maximus-12 (the fantasy foursome for Max / my headcanon polyamory where they're all husbands)

Baldur's Gate 3

Gale x Tav/Durge

Shadowheart x Tav/Durge

Karlach x Tav/Durge

Shae'zel (?) / Shadowzel / Shadowheart x Lae'zel

Shadowlach / Shadowheart x Karlach

Bladeweave / Gale x Wyll

Bloodweave / Gale x Astarion

Bloodpact / Bloodblade / Wyll x Astarion

Durgetash (my preference though is default Durge)

Fallout

Craig Boone x Male Courier

Charon x Male Lone Wanderer

Paladin Danse x Male Sole Survivor

Ghoulcy / Vaultghoul / Lucy MacLean x The Ghoul

Maximus x Thaddeus

Elder Scrolls

Teldryn Sero x Male Dragonborn

Razum-dar x Male Vestige (mostly Khajiit)

Sharp-as-Night x Male Vestige (mostly Khajiit but Argonian too)

Dragonborn x their spouse (I mean come on now)

Mass Effect

Shakarian & MShakarian

Sheptali (both Shepards!!!)

Shiara (both Shepards!!!)

Shenko & MShenko

Shepard x Jack

Shawson

Dragon Age

Alistair x the Warden

Leliana x the Warden

Morrigan x the Warden

Zevran x the Warden

Handers / Hawke x Anders

Fenhawke / Hawke x Fenris

Isabela x Hawke

Fenders / Fenris x Anders

Cullistair / Cullen x Alistair

Josephine Montilyet x the Inquisitor (they are an aspec relationship in my headcanon)

Jujutsu Kaisen

Kusahigu / Higukusa / Kusakabe x Higurumi

Higunana / Higuruma x Nanami

Nanago / Nanami x Gojo

Dimension 20

Theopin / Theobald Gumbar x Lapin Cadbury

Ruehob / Delloso de la Rue x K. P. Hob

Inkblade / Oisin Hakinvar x Adaine Abernant

Figayda / Figueroth Faeth x Ayda Aguefort

Other Fandoms

Reymas / Reynauld x Dismas / Crusader x Highwayman (Darkest Dungeon)

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[watchyourdigits]

Falloutober Day One:

War Never Changes

I'm a little late to the party, but here's what I've got for day number one of Falloutober! The main fic for these two is Danse-centric, so I thought it'd be a fun challenge to rewrite the opening scene from Frankie's perspective this time. Enjoy~

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: mild sexual language, canon typical violence

Ship: Paldadin Danse x male Sole Survivor

"What's the plan here?"

Frankie rolled his eyes behind his gas mask, barely suppressing a groan. His newly acquired commanding officer had been, up until that very moment, the one calling the shots.

Why would Danse, an otherwise by-the-book kind of man, hand him the reins without warning? The question served as an obvious test; it wasn't as if this so-called 'Paladin' had been anything but wary of him thus far.

Now, facing down an unknown number of super mutants, he was suddenly leaving Frankie to figure out the best course of action.

He wouldn't know subtlety if it smacked him clean across his stupid, perfect face.

Frankie peered above the bushes they were squatting behind to get a better look at the camp. He did a quick visual scan of the place before pulling his head back down behind cover.

"I see three, but there's definitely more."

He tried to explain that his preferred method of sneak-attack wouldn't be as effective with super mutants as it would with human enemies, but the Paladin cut him off.

Typical.

Frankie tapped his fingers against his thigh impatiently as he was, once again, chastised for his manner of dress.

"You'd see better if you weren't wearing that ridiculous thing."

That tone of his was enough to make Frankie grimace. Despite his disarming good looks, Danse was proving no different than the military officials he served before the whole world went to shit. Society was functionally nonexistent and all Danse could seem to think about was arbitrary uniform codes.

Maybe you should just, I dunno, show him your ugly fuckin' mug? Then he'd get it.

He knew that was never truly an option, but it was nonetheless entertaining to imagine Danse's reaction to the grand reveal that he'd been on the receiving end of an unsightly facial disfigurement.

Deathclaws and power armor... Bad combo. Should probably warn him about that...

Frankie opted to ignore him, a momentous exercise of restraint on his behalf, the likes of which the Paladin would probably never be able to appreciate.

"It's not my favorite idea, but how's about you provide covering fire and I'll go in guns blazing?" he said confidently.

"I suppose it's not the worst plan in the world," Danse replied, shrugging his hulking, metal-clad shoulders, drawing an unseen smirk from Frankie at the sight of it. "You point, I shoot."

It was all too obvious that Danse didn't think he'd succeed. Frankie wasn't one to take such a challenge lightly. Hell, if a deathclaw and the literal end of the world couldn't take him down, he was practically invincible, right?

Frankie gave a smug smile behind his mask, clapping Danse on the shoulder.

"Good man. I'll see you on the other side."

He gave a quick two-finger salute, knowing damn well it was sure to piss Danse off to no end since it wasn't the classic Brotherhood salute he'd been taught. Just before he slid down the side of the hill, he caught a glimpse of Danse's face as expression changed to that of a man questioning his life choices.

He sure is somethin'... Guess this shit ain't so different from how it used to be, though. Murderin' everythin' in sight, dealing with annoying military bullshit… Annoying commanding officers with big ole cow eyes. Tryin' not to think about how good said commanding officer would look on his knees…

Frankie shook his head, trying to reel himself back in. He could dwell on his perversions later. Right now, he had to prove he was all he claimed and then some.

God, if you can hear me, just know that I think you're a real sick sonuvabitch.

"Two-hundred years on ice and a fella still can't catch a fuckin' break," he mumbled to himself.

He loaded his shotgun as he approached the first mutie he saw guarding the entrance to the camp. He noticed Frankie far too late.

Before the lumbering abomination could open his mouth to alert the others in his company, a laser fired from the hillside hit him square in the chest. He stumbled a little and Frankie finished him off with two shots to the head, whistling low.

He's a phenomenal shot, I'll give him that. Good timing, too.

Frankie took great delight in the easy flow of the battle. The mutants were slow to react, giving him ample time to sort out his strategy as he went. He made his way through the camp, drawing out his enemies toward the chaos and systematically taking them down, ducking behind cover to reload as Danse provided covering fire from above.

When things finally settled and the last of the super mutants fell, he allowed himself a moment to relish in the silence that rang in his ears. Frankie pulled up his mask just enough to spit on the ground, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

The mask fell back into place as he reached the entrance of the camp, giving a thumbs up in Danse's general direction. The Paladin was down the hill and standing before him within seconds.

"Great work up there," Frankie commended. He understood better than most the value in having a trained set of eyes looking out. "Good to know you've got my back."

Danse began removing the helmet of his power armor. Frankie felt a tug in his gut, firmly aware of the way his jaw hung open like an idiot upon watching him run a hand through that thick, dark hair of his. His mind began to wander as Danse's mouth moved, Frankie only barely hearing the words he spoke.

"Same to you, soldier. It's been a while since I've seen potential like that."

Danse sounded genuine about it, too. For half a second, Frankie found himself delusional enough to believe that perhaps he was flirting. With a subordinate, no less.

Just keep it casual, for once in your goddamn life. No sudden advances.

"I told you I had military experience," Frankie replied jokingly, testing the waters. "Did you think I was lyin'?" he asked, leaning himself against one of the rotting wooden fences, paying no mind to the super mutant blood that now called it home.

"No. However, your secrecy leaves you with a lot to prove."

There it is. Damn… Audacious prick.

"Is that so?" Frankie drawled, huffing a little through his nose. "Remind me to tell Elder Maxson that he should give you a promotion."

Danse raised an eyebrow. Of course it was the one with the scar through it. Frankie felt heat traveling up his neck, choking him.

He wanted nothing more than to grab him by those stupid handles of his power armor, pull him down to his level, and-

"Why is that?" Danse asked curiously, cocking his head.

"Because I'll be the best damn thing that's happened to the Brotherhood yet," Frankie answered without missing a beat.

"That's a bold claim. I admire your ambition."

Danse sounded amused, much to Frankie's dismay.

He kept bringing the conversation to the brink of what could constitute flirting. It was maddening, especially as Frankie's body continued to relax, muscles melting under his skin as the adrenaline faded away.

"Bold? I've earned my ego, pal."

Frankie pushed off the fence and had to look away from Danse, growing increasingly concerned that his impulses might cause him to do something idiotic. Like give him a right hook. Or kiss him. Maybe both.

"Maybe one day you'll get it through that thick skull of yours..." Frankie continued bitterly, "I'm not your average wastelander."

He turned on his heel and stalked away into the camp to loot it for all it was worth. A good enough distraction as any, he figured.

The backhanded compliments, the unsolicited commentary on his attire, and the fact that Danse was the most delicious thing he'd laid his eyes on… Frankie knew he was in for a hell of a time working with the Brotherhood of Steel.

Despite all his tense irritation, there was the undeniable feeling of 'home' that came with working with Danse.

It was all so familiar, comforting in a sentimental way. And Frankie was a sentimental bastard, if there ever was one.

Yeah, nothin's changed a lick.

[ao3-diablofic]

by Kosho

Back at it again with Kinktober! My eventual goal is to use both the nsfw and cutesy prompts, but if not, then I’m aiming for at least getting it done.

Day 1: Elsine x Cullen Rutherford Day 2: Youkai x River Ward Day 3: Taki x Zenos Day 4: the commander x daeran Day 5: Cherish x Cullen Day 6: Arakiel x Socothbenoth Day 7: Felix Alexius x Talon Adaar Day 8: Solas x Jack Day 9: Zevran Arainai x Varadin Cousland Day 10: Paladin Danse x Leander Day 11: Female Necromancer x Kormac

Words: 13549, Chapters: 11/31, Language: English

Fandoms: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game), Cyberpunk & Cyberpunk 2020 (Roleplaying Games), Final Fantasy XIV, Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous (Video Game), Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening, Fallout 4, Diablo (Video Games)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M, M/M

Characters: Original Avvar Character(s) (Dragon Age), Cullen Rutherford, V (Cyberpunk 2077), River Ward, Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Zenos yae Galvus, The Commander (Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous), Daeran (Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous), Original Inquisitor Character(s) (Dragon Age), Socothbenoth (Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous), Male Adaar (Dragon Age), Felix Alexius, Solas (Dragon Age), Male Lavellan (Dragon Age), Male Cousland (Dragon Age), Zevran Arainai, Paladin Danse (Fallout), Male Sole Survivor (Fallout 4), Kormac the Templar, Female Necromancer (Diablo III)

Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, V/River Ward, Zenos yae Galvus/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), The Commander/Daeran (Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous), Male Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Felix Alexius/Male Inquisitor, Male Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), Zevran Arainai/Warden, Male Cousland - Relationship, Paladin Danse & Male Sole Survivor, Kormac the Templar/Female Necromancer

Additional Tags: Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Kinktober, Pegging, Roleplay, Sexual Roleplay, Nurse - Freeform, Hate Sex, Teratophilia, Sweat, Collars, Tieflings (Dungeons & Dragons), Dubious Consent, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sex Pollen, Sex poison, Oral Sex, Sex, Vaginal Sex, Loss of Virginity, Virginity, Mage Adaar (Dragon Age), Named Adaar (Dragon Age), Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood, Blood Kink, Glory Hole, Praise Kink, Sensory Deprivation, Dream Sex

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50516668

[nautseverywhere]

And one of my Christian.

With some new hair .... It needs to be longer however!!!!

He is however getting sicker and thinner. Danse, in Christian's story is starting to worry and will approach him soon to ask him about his rapid weight loss.

[gococogo]

A Damsel in Distress - Paladin Danse x Nate / Male Sole Survivor

Synopsis: A distress signal comes over the Cambridge Police Station radio that has Danse racing out of there quicker than he can think.

Word Count: 3.1K

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Angst. Gore.

Notes: This is me dipping my toes into the fallout 4 universe. so give me some leeway, i wanted to challenge myself by writing this. enjoy :)

The crackling of the radio doesn’t grab the attention of the Paladin at first. His mind too focused on repairing a loose hinge in the right elbow of his power armour that had been bugging him for days. Whenever he’s out of the hulking metal, he always feels vulnerable. Not small per say or weak. A Paladin must know that they can handle themselves in and out of the armour. Yet he’s so use to wearing it almost twenty four hours a day that it’s become second nature within it.

The radio crackles again, louder this time with a voice mixed in underneath all the intense white noise. Paladin Danse stops short, wrench still in hand and looks over to the orange box. It’s not often that distress signals have been picked up. The station that they use is only for people of the Brotherhood or familiar with them.

Scribe Haylen has already wondered over to the radio, adjusting the dial. The whole police station falls into silence as Haylen tries her best to tune into the signal. Even Rhys is watching from afar at the table. But soon he moves back to whatever he was doing, head bowed between his shoulders.  

“…. -bridge Police Station,” finally a voice is clear over the radio and Danse can’t help the feeling of his stomach sinking low into his stomach. “I need assistance. Surrounded by raiders! I’m holding myself in the- shit where am I?” A few passing moments of ragged breathing, filled with phlegm and other liquids in the throat, “Some Regional Office and I’ve-” a groan admits itself through the radio followed by a shaky exhale. “Got myself pretty shot up this time.”

Danse may have only met the man a month ago, but he knows Nate’s voice when he hears it. Right elbow joint be damned, he’s jumping into his power armour before he knows it. Haylen is already on her feet and packing her things up.

A large metal hand on her back is quick to stop her in her tracks. “I need you and Rhys to stay here while I go out and retrieve the Initiate,” Danse speaks firmly.

“I think that’s unwise, Paladin,” Haylen speaks up, standing to attention.

But Danse doesn’t budge no matter how dedicated she is to be leaving with him. “I don’t want this base of operations to be compromised or unattended in case of an attack. I intrust Knight Rhys to overlook this base until my return. There will be no further argument.”

Haylen’s shoulders faulter a little. “What about medical supplies?”

“Where is the location of his whereabouts?” Danse asks, getting to the point quickly.

Scribe Haylen shrugs her pack off her shoulders and grabs out a device from within. She holds it out to the Paladin with some urgency.

“I sent him to BADTFL Regional Office to retrieve the haptic drive. Trek east and you’ll run into it within the hour,” Haylen says. “This-“ she flicks a switch on the device and a slow beep admits from it, “-will lead you right to the signal he’s emitting.”

The Paladin takes the device and looks it over with a bleak expression. It’s almost small within the hands of the T-60, hard to hold onto. But he grasps onto it, unwilling to let go all the same.

“I value your help greatly, Scribe,” Danse thanks in his own way. “I will retrieve him and will be back in just over two hours. If I am not here with Nate when the third hour rolls over, then I give you permission to act.”

And with that, he flips his helmet on and loads his cell rifle before travelling east. He knows going into this alone is stupid and selfish. But he can’t allow his small patrol to be dispersed because of his own need to make sure that Nate is alright. This thing that has decided to make itself at home inside of the Paladin’s chest that makes him feel unable to breathe.

With each block he passes, he can’t help but let his worry grow deeper and deeper. The tightness in his chest becoming a little too much for his own liking. He shouldn’t be feeling this way. No. He shouldn’t be letting himself feel this way. He can’t let himself get close to anyone again. This is purely for the Brotherhood. And nothing more.

But every time the pulse of the signal becomes stronger, becomes quicker he can’t help but let himself feel. The steady beep of the device almost ricochets inside of the Paladin’s brain. He can feel a headache coming along.

He is also well aware that it was Haylen’s needs that has gotten Nate in this predicament, but it is no fault of hers. Nate has shown himself capable many times before. Completing mission after mission for both Haylen and Rhys and reporting back each time with success. A few scrapes and bruises is all that he has been wounded with but nothing this serious. He hasn’t doubted Nate for a moment, seeing on more than one occasion that he can handle himself if not more. He’s been by his side with the synths and Danse saw a soldier, not a scared man that will hide and cower. Not like any of other’s he’s come across within the Commonwealth. Nate’s different.

-

Arriving at the Regional Office, it’s a little too silent for the Paladin’s liking. The distress signal beeps at a quickened pace in one hand as Danse holds his rifle in the other. There’s no one out the front and with no time to delay, he barges through the front door with his gun locked and loaded. Scoping the front entrance, he’s met with a front desk and rummage. No life can be seen.

Walking further in, the only sound being his heavy footsteps and the quickening pulse of the distress signal, he becomes unnerved. He keeps his gun out at the ready, holding it a little awkwardly but he can’t complain at this given moment. His eyes dart back and forth, waiting for something to happen.

Three raiders are dead on the floor in the next room. All pocketed with bullet wounds that seep red into the old wooden floorboards. A switchblade sticks out of the neck of one, his face contorted into permanent horror that has Danse staring a little too long. He continues forward, noting of the busted turret that dangles from its wires on the ceiling.

A muffled argument strikes the Paladin’s attention and, he slows his movements the best he can inside his T-60. He looks into an office like room where three raiders are. He switches the distress tracker off before they become alerted of his presence.

“It’s us three against him!” The only woman shouts harshly into the face of the other two.

The scrawnier raider of the bunch slides down the table with a shaky groan. He holds his side, his hand coated with fresh blood. His grimy face is pale and Danse can tell from here that he isn’t going to last much longer.

“Two against one,” the injured man groans out.

The woman scowls deeply, her yellow teeth like dog fangs that bare something dangerous. She pulls a pipe pistol from her belt and shoots the injured man in the temple without a thought. His body convulses before falling to the side and becoming horrifyingly still. She then turns to the remaining raider, waving the gun in his face.

“Are you with me to kill that son of a bitch?” She snarls.

He pushes the gun from his face forcefully, almost tearing it from her hand. “Of course!”

Why Raiders do what they do, Danse will never truly understand. Was that man not a part of her crew? Not even a second thought to end his life instead of to try and save it. Less mouths to feed. He’s heard that come from a Raider’s mouth before and it makes Danse sick. Never in his life in the Brotherhood has he seen someone put someone down like a dog so inhumanly.

The Paladin places the device in the dip of his chest plating and takes his rifle’s safety off. As soon as the woman turns her back to head into the other room, Danse charges. He crosses the room before the two raiders are even able to turn around at the charging bull coming their way. Something blinds him as he acts, something he hasn’t felt in quite some time.

Danse shoulder barges the man, throwing him across the room into a filing cabinet. The woman stumbles backwards into the wall, eyes as wide as saucepans. She pulls her pistol but Danse is quicker. It takes five rounds for her to fall. She slides down against the wall, her yellow teeth bared as if they were ready to bite.  

The last raider struggles to rise to his feet. He tries to crawl away, his breath ragged and shallow. Paladin Danse steps over to him with a frown deep set on his face. He can hear the slow drag of each breath, blood clotting and rising in the back of his throat. A punctured lung.

But despite being on the verge of death, the raider jumps forward with the last bit of strength he has. He dives for the pistol still gripped in the woman’s grasp. But as before, Danse is the quicker draw.  

-

The room the raiders were heading to leads down a ramp that opens to a cell. An old prison that Danse has no time to wonder what use to happen here in Nate’s time. It’s dark and there’s not much light getting in through the leaf clotted windows. He turns on his head lamp, lighting his way towards the stairs on the other side of the cell. As Danse passes the steel bars in his search for Nate, the sound of a hammer to a gun cocking catches his attention.

Danse looks into the cell, his head lamp lighting up the shadows. In the corner, something that he didn’t see before is quick to catch his attention. In his blue vault suit and mismatched armour pieces of leather and combat, is the man Danse was looking for.

“Nate?” Danse calls out.

A pained, hearty chuckle comes from the corner that is none other than the vault dweller’s. Quicker and a bit more drastic than he should have, Danse opens up the cell door and stomps inside.

The entire right side of the vault suit is coloured red where Nate holds onto a leaking wound. His usually tanned face is pale as a ghost, sweat dripping and beading down his temple. Yet, even though he trembling from the lack of blood he still has a cocky smile upon his lips.

Bandages and other first aid equipment is spewed around him in a shitty attempt to bound his own wound. At the sight, Danse is quick to exit his power armour. The fat metal digits of the power armour are not going to be able to flirt around the finer details of bandaging up Nate. He doesn’t even think about how foreign it is to be outside of his power armour. His mind his appointed to Nate curled up in the corner of the cell.

“Report to me, Initiate,” Danse says, needing the vault dweller to talk to him.

He gathers up the medical supplies and even reaches forward to search into the pouches on Nate’s webbing belt. Nate groans at the sudden movement and watches Danse with hazy dark blue eyes. The Paladin stops for a moment and looks at the blood weeping from between his fingers. He can’t let himself become panicked in this moment.

“I said report to me,” Danse speaks more firmly. “That’s an order.”

Before Nate can utter a word, Danse moves his hand away to assess the damage. A bullet is still lodged in his side, the wound a deep hole in his side. No exit wound.

“Got shot,” Nate bites back through gritted teeth. Short and blunt, but at least he’s talking.  

Danse glances a glare his way as he begins to twists a bandage in his fingers. “How?” He asks.

Anything to keep Nate aware. He needs to keep him talking.

“I hoped it would be you to come,” Nate speaks with a thick slur. “My knight in shining armour.”

Danse doesn’t warn Nate as he digs the bandage deep into his bullet wound. The vault dweller barks out in pain, grabbing out onto Danse’s shoulder to try and keep himself grounded. Danse pushes him back, his head hitting the wall with a light thud. Nate breathes in heavily and grinds his heels into the ground as Danse pushes more bandages inside the wound to stop the bleeding for now. All until he can get Nate back to the station.

“Now is not the time for jokes and quips,” Danse adds before he rips off the remaining of the bandage with his teeth.

Cleanliness is something that cannot be thought of at this given moment. He needs Nate out of here before he becomes another victim of the harsh reality of the commonwealth. He just needs to get him to the station where Haylen can patch him up properly.

“The turret got me,” Nate grits out through his teeth. “Didn’t see it until the last minute.”

“And you got this far afterwards?” Danse asks.

Nate grins at that. “Also got pretty beat up. Didn’t expect a…” he wonders off for a moment, his breathing becoming shallow before he perks up again, “didn’t expect a baseball bat to hurt that badly.” He quirks even in his near death state.

The Paladin doesn’t say anything else to that as he wraps the remaining bandage around Nate’s torso. He pulls it tight, keeping pressure on the wound. Nate flinches at every movement, squeezing his eyes shut with his jaw set tightly. Danse looks over his handy work and deems it able to last the trip back. Not perfect, but good enough.

“Can you stand?” Danse asks.

Nate looks at him bleakly through squinted eyes. His trembling isn’t as bad as it was before, but he looks as if holding his head up is a mission.

“I’ll take that as a no,” the Paladin answers to himself.

He gathers Nate’s things back into his pouches and quickly realizes the man is out of stimpacks. Stupid mistake. Coming out here with barely anything on him. Does he think himself invisible!?

Danse stands up and walks back over to his power armour. Without a word, he enters it and heavy metal sets back into place. He now feels more at home inside of the T-60, now coming to the realization that his back was unprotected the entire time he was patching Nate up. Stupid move. But it’s much safer inside 110 pounds of pure steel and machinery. He can protect himself and most importantly, Nate.

He walks over to Nate and as careful as he can, picks him up like some husband taking his wife away to his honeymoon. Nate groans and hisses in pain as the movement pulls and tugs on his side and all the other bruised and bashed places he’s been struck over. The bullet probably not feeling all to comfortable either still wedged in between muscle. Nate holds onto one of the bars on the Paladin’s chest piece with his head dipped between his shoulders.

Danse moves in a hurry out of the building all while trying to not jostle Nate around too much. He just has to make the trip back to the police station.

-

“A true damsel in distress,” are the first words that come from Rhys’s mouth as Paladin Danse walks through the doors.  

Haylen ignores the Knight. She keeps her distance until the Paladin has set Nate down onto a table that she has place into the middle of the side room specifically for him. Danse takes three steps back as Haylen instantly gets to work. She has the basic medical training but has had to learn more from being around the Knight and the Paladin.

“Rhys a need some purified water,” Scribe Haylen instructs without taking her eyes off of Nate.

“What?”

“Now!” She snaps in a tone that both of them rarely seen.

Rhys grumbles as he goes into the back room, leaving them for now. Haylen steadily takes the bandaging off of Nate’s torso, not knowing the full extent of his wounds.

Danse takes his helmet off, the locks hissing and releasing as he does. “As far as I’ve taken note, there is a bullet still in his side and he’s taken multiple hits with a blunt object,” he informs to her.

“Thank you, Paladin,” she says, her voice monotoned with her mind deep on the task at hand.

Nate groans as he moves his hand to his waist, his blood slicked fingers unclipping one of his pouches. He slips out a small device, something that Danse doesn’t recognise at first. But when he holds it out to Haylen, she stops cold.

The Haptic Drive is held between his bloody fingers.

Haylen takes it off him with her mouth a gape. He still got the damn device. Even after all that happen to him.

“Told you I’d get it,” Nate grins as he peers through one narrow eye.

“You stupid man,” Haylen mumbles as she takes it from him.

She sets it aside before returning back to patching Nate up. His priority over the bullet in his side worries Danse for a moment. But he’s seen this happen within the Brotherhood so many times over he can’t truly count them all. Despite being a man out of time, a man from the past. Nate fits into the Commonwealth a little too well.

It could be his military past. Or is pure need to get his son back. But whatever drives him is something that Danse rarely sees within the Commonwealth again. He is aware that Nate’s ranking is unofficial at this moment, but he truly wishes that other members of the Brotherhood could see Nate. Maybe he could inspire people within the Brotherhood. To keep fighting and to keep moving forward.

Danse could deny it a little bit longer for his own sake. Keep himself chin high in work and patrols. But he’ll give himself the benefit of the doubt that Nate’s actions have given Danse a new drive forward. Something he hasn’t felt in a long, long time.

-

:)

[mtreebeardiles]

Bonds of Smoke and Steel, ch. 4

I know I said I wasn't gonna post IP works but I haven't touched this story in a million years so I figured I'd make an exception

Full chapter over on AO3!

The rain kept him in Sanctuary longer than anticipated.

The storm had rolled in late that first night back, well after the barbecue had ended. Visitors from out of town dispersed into nearby homes or, in some cases, the small inn that had been constructed on a reclaimed lot a few years back. A 'bed and breakfast,' Taylor had tried to explain it once, back when construction had started, and Danse still remembered the way he'd smiled when the former paladin had expressed his confusion on what breakfast had to do with anything. 

"Bit of a silly luxury, don't you think?"

"What a world to live in, where breakfast counts as a luxury."

Danse, who, at the time, had yet to experience pancakes, had merely shrugged and kept his observations that ration bars were hardly anything to get excited over to himself.

And now here he was, years later, trying to get comfortable on a too-soft bed in a too-clean room, muted yellow light from the streetlamp outside filtering in through rain spattered panes of glass, knowing when he got up the next morning there'd be something decent to eat, possibly even delicious if Maks had anything to say about it, something included in the fees Danse hadn't had to pay at the General's insistence. 

Something he'd promised to share with Taylor, once upon a time. Before Liberty Prime's destruction, before Taylor betrayed the Brotherhood for the Institute, before…

Before so many unthinkable things that Danse had tried not to contemplate but found himself dwelling on again and again and only now, three fucking years later, did he begin to doubt his own convictions. 

"I needed him to find another way."

Maks's words dovetailing with a letter sent so long ago, a request that Danse meet with the man he'd grown so fond of, so that Taylor might have the chance to explain himself. A chance Danse hadn't been willing to give him, before, but now…

"It wasn't part of his plan, Danse."

Danse shifted, grunting as he fought with the pillow beneath his head and rolled onto his side. Watched the rain race rapidly in streaming rivulets down the glass of the window and felt anything but tired. 

Missing sons found, but not in the state they'd expected. Experiments and rationalizations and proposed course-changes. A way to do some good, after far too long doing bad. 

Promises too good to be true, but what if he'd been looking for confirmation of his own biases? Seeing what he wanted to see, because on some level he thought he…deserved it? Betrayal for betrayal, because the alternative was…

Acceptance. The fact that Taylor still cared, even after learning the truth about him. 

"Don't do this, Taylor. Don't…don't betray your oath for my sake."

"I'm not."

Talking Maxson down and Danse had felt so small in that moment. Small and insignificant until Taylor came to stand beside him. Resolute and unmoving and he didn't know what that feeling was, that sensation of tightness in his chest, watching Taylor take his stance and make his case.

Make Danse's case, because Danse hadn't found his words, didn't think there were any to justify his continued existence, an abomination wearing a human face. 

Danse shifted on the bed again, turning onto his other side with a huff of impatience. Kicked off the sheets when it got too hot, pulled them back up when the poor seal on the window let storm-cooled air flow over his bare arms. And all the while the words echoing in his head, so messy and tangled looking back on them now, three years later. 

He'd clung to Taylor's affection when he'd lost his own sense of self. Clung to his purpose, his oath something to be kept in conjunction with his, held close in steady hands as they sanded away the Brothers of Steel insignia when Danse's own couldn't seem to stop shaking. Callused palms on his cheeks, chapped lips pressed to his, every night a reminder against his skin:  you matter, you matter, you will always matter to me. 

Too difficult, then, to bridge the gap between Taylor's promises and his actions. 

Danse sat up, abandoning any notion that he would be sleeping tonight. Scooted back until he could rest against the wall and watched the rain as the world seemed to sleep all around him. 

He left Sanctuary two days later, and this time he left a note. 

[comradeacerbus]

CHAPTER 25 LETS GOOOOOO

[butterdoggo13]

My Sole Survivor: Tracy. Personality: Shy, timid and always worried. Love interest: Paladin Danse

[kagebros]

Sometimes a family can be two synths and a cryogenically frozen trans guy :)

・commission info・  

[iliumheightnights]

Paladin Danse's response to seeing your network of interconnected settlements, all with heavily-armed defenses and the growth of a new civilization, all without Brotherhood assistance?

I got youuuuu! Ended up turning into a full fic!

[dalishkadan]

some goodness with paladin danse <.<