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commonwealthoccurences · 1 year ago

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Back To Eden - ch7

I'm gonna be totally real I thought I uploaded this days ago and apparently never did and just assumed I did. Apologies lmao, I will drop the tidbit that ao3 gets chapters as soon as they're finished since there's no algorithm, so I upload them anywhere between 10pm to 3 am on there and then Tumblr gets the same chapter the next day any time after noon

Summary: Sole is a journalist and independent investigator who worked with the famous Detective Nick Valentine before the bombs dropped. They stumble out of Vault 111 with hazy memories of a case gone awry, a sense of desperate yearning, and the bitter experience of already having had to fight for their life to survive against the odds. What's a little nuclear wasteland to a (newly) seasoned investigator?

See masterlist for warnings.

Fic-long tags: Hurt comfort, angst, pining, flashback scenes, noir detective show meets post-apocalyptic chaos, Preston Garvey is a sweetheart, Sole is doing their best and living out of pure spite, slow burn (Nick/Sole), etc etc.

Sole opened the door to the clinic with a wide grin, stepping outside as Preston looked up at them from the bottom of the steps. “Well?” He asked.

“I’ve been cleared for light lifting and don’t have to use the crutches unless I get tired.” Sole practically sang.

The creases around Preston’s eyes deepened as he smiled and wrapped his arms around them, clapping Sole on the back heartily. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks, I’m so glad I can finally do stuff. Sturges has some ideas for making that water purification system, and I’m hoping we can have some sort of irrigation set up by the fall. Ooh, or maybe a shower! I’ve been dying for a shower.”

“Sounds like you’ve got big plans.”

“Yeah! I mean, I’m so glad I can do more. Spend less time sitting around twiddling my thumbs, y’know?”

“I distinctly recall you recovering from life-threatening injuries, not ‘twiddling your thumbs.’”

“Same thing,” Sole grinned.

It seemed Sole was not the only one with plans for what had previously been free time. Occasionally, when Curie would demand they would rest and Preston would set them up in their chair so they’d at least have a scenic location to keep an eye on, someone would come around to talk about the Commonwealth with them. Curie, Preston, or Sturges would sit with them for some time and answer their questions or tell stories about their time traveling, just so Sole could get a grasp about what things were like now.

And after almost a month collectively above ground in the settlement, Sole wasn’t finding their tales as shocking anymore. Sure, it was still utterly horrifying at some points– Sole had nearly thrown up when Curie had described her encounters with patients with acute radiation poisoning and the different medications recommended for traveling now. Deathclaws, too, nearly had Sole falling out of their chair. They had been around before the war, but under strict containment by the military, and of course the damn things escaped and were still around.

Synths, too, had been explained to them. It took a couple of different explanations and many asked questions, but Preston had been most surprised when their reaction was, “Huh. Okay, that’s cool.”

But now that they were cleared for a little more activity, Preston didn’t hesitate in insisting they practice self-defense. Sole still struggled with vertigo, and according to Curie, likely would for a while. However, Preston’s protective switch had flipped and while he made sure to ease them into it and protect them from overexertion, he wanted them capable of keeping their bearings about them even if they were having a vertigo episode in the middle of being attacked.

Along with brushing up on their self-defense came brushing up on their weapons training. Oftentimes, this had to be cut short and, thankfully, Preston didn’t ask any questions. Sometimes, when he was reminding them how to stand or to be wary of recoil, they heard Nick in him and it nearly tore them apart. Preston grew to recognize the look in their eyes when this was happening, though he never told them and he never knew what was behind that look.

All Preston knew was the way their eyes would cloud over and they’d stare off into the distance, seemingly listening but hearing something other than what he was saying. At this, he knew it was time to call it a day and let them recover in their own time. As much as he didn’t want to keep putting them in that position, them being as familiar with their weapon as they were with their own skin was essential in the wasteland. He would not bury Sole in that unoccupied grave.

While they didn’t gossip, Preston and Sturges often had quiet conversations about their concerns for Sole. Somewhere in the month they’d been in the settlement they’d both grown quite fond for them. It was rare to find genuine people in the Commonwealth and loyalties formed fast with how short life was in the wasteland. The two could see quite clearly that something was wrong, and while that was to be expected with what they had been through and all of the things they weren’t talking about, it still worried them every time reality seemed to escape them and their expression grew distant.

Still, Sole stubbornly pushed on. The turret at the back of Sanctuary was set up rather quickly, and a list of parts they needed for the water purifier was made for the next person to leave the settlement and go scavenging. Sole moved into the community house. Life stumbled on, and Sole followed close behind.

Sole and Valentine had propped themselves up in a diner booth, silent as they both sipped at cups of coffee. Sole had started taking theirs black just like Valentine not long after they had started working together; it didn’t taste any better, but the harsh, biting bitterness almost did more than the caffeine did to wake them up. Considering they had been awake for the last 36 hours, they certainly needed both the caffeine and the disgusting flavor.

Nick looked just as vacant as they did, his bleary eyes staring straight past them at nothing. Sole chose to look out the window, eyes scanning over everything but absorbing nothing. They’d had a long night, trying to collect evidence on their suspect, Jim. Unfortunately, while everyone on the case agreed that he was suspicious and they would be keeping an eye on him, there was no way they could keep him detained any longer.

Both Nick and Sole were feeling the mistake they’d made. In hindsight, they definitely should’ve trailed him for far longer and tried to catch him in a slip-up. The stress of the case had gotten to their heads and they’d just wanted to make progress. Unfortunately, that had cost them the upper hand. Now, Jim knew that he was being watched and the pair were losing steam. Sole sighed and sat back in the booth. Stars danced across the dark of their closed eyes as they pressed their fingertips to their eyelids, hoping that would somehow clear their bone-deep exhaustion.

With a jaw-splitting yawn, Sole shuddered in their seat and returned their gaze out the window. The early morning had greeted them with the chirping of birds and morning foot traffic as everyone went out for their coffee before starting work. You could feel the start of the seasonal shift as August crept forward; summer was reaching its fever pitch and waiting eagerly to tip into the beginning of fall. Time was running out, and Sole had no idea where they were going to start after their recent dead-end.

A shape caught their eyes. Despite everyone rushing around on their morning trips to the office, there was a lone figure standing on the sidewalk across the street. Sole sat up slightly, the hairs on their arms standing up. The sixth sense they’d gained over their career was setting their spine rigid, a tingle crawling up their back and making them grit their teeth. Sole focused their eyes and took a sharp breath when they realized who they were looking at. The man of the morning, the freshly released Jim Grayson. And he was simply staring at them with that awful smile.

Their inhale snapped Nick’s eyes back to them and he immediately took in their body language. “Sole? What’s wrong?” He urged quietly.

“He’s here.”

But he wasn’t, not anymore. In the spare few moments when Nick had snapped back to attention and Sole had glanced away to reply, Grayson had disappeared. They swallowed, “Nick I swear to God he was just there. He was right there.”

“I believe you. That son of a bitch…”

The language took Sole by surprise; no matter how frustrated Nick had gotten in the past, he’d always maintained that specific detective image he had. Nick sat forward and rested his elbows on the tabletop, mug empty and shoved aside. He rubbed his hands over his face, scratching briefly at the stubble forming along his jaw before he jerked his fingers through his hair and shoved his hat back on his head. “You’re not going back home.”

“What? Nick!”

“Listen, I’m not trying to scare you, I’m trying to protect you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he already knows where you live, and with how little you’ve been sleeping sending you home would be a total disregard for your safety. We can send a patrol with you to pick up some things, but–”

“I’m not sleeping at the station. Nick, I already spend 99% of my time there, I’ll lose my mind.”

“Then you’ll stay with me.”

Sole blinked. They weren’t sure if they were more shocked by his willingness to avoid arguing or the offer he was making. They chuckled nervously, “I don’t know if that’s necessary.”

Nick sat forward. “I will not send you home to your death.”

His stare was the polar opposite of what it had been minutes later. The intensity reminded Sole of exactly why he had the reputation of being such a successful interrogator. Already broken down from lack of sleep and unwilling to pick a fight on 36 hours of sleep in a public diner with a creep potentially watching, Sole relented. “Alright, fine. You win. Better stay with you rather than the entire police department watching me sleep.”

Valentine sighed and his posture relaxed. “Thank you.”

Sole halfheartedly mock saluted. “Just following orders, boss.”

He screwed up his face. “Please never do that again.”

Sole put their hands on their hips. “I can do it.”

“Sole, it’s just not smart.”

“Well, I never said it was smart, but it needs to be done and you can’t spare anyone else.”

“I can’t spare you, either! What happens if you go out there and end up dead?”

Sole sighed and threw their hands up a little, somewhat exasperated. “Preston, think about it. You survived without me before, and you could do it again. You can’t send Sturges, because he’s too essential to putting this settlement back together. You can’t send Mama Murphy– I don’t even need to explain that one. Marcy can’t go because of Jun, and Jun can’t go because he’s got his own stuff to deal with. Curie is more indisposable than the rest of us put together. The only reason she went out last time was because no one else could. And you sure as hell can’t go. You’re the glue around here.”

Preston pressed his lips together and shook his head. “And you? You aren’t disposable here even though you seem to think you are.”

“Look, I don’t think I’m disposable, but I do think that this needs to get done and I’m the best person to do it.”

They’d been bickering on and off all day since Sturges brought up the urgency of the water purifier. They were running out of the purified water that the bunker had provided, and Sole had immediately volunteered to go scavenging for more. Sensing an argument and thinking better of sticking around, Sturges had announced that he’d let them figure it out and immediately left.

Preston had made the mistake of indulging in theoreticals. First, he had ixnayed the idea of them scavenging at random. It was too dangerous for them to be running around at random, he’d said, and if they were going to be going anywhere it would be on the main roads to Diamond City. He considered that the safest route. Unfortunately for Preston, that was the exact moment he’d lost the argument, and he’d known it. Despite the fact that hours later they were still going back and forth about it, they both knew it was futile.

Luckily, Sole wasn’t reliant on their crutches anymore, and they had been getting their strength back to normal. Sometimes they still had bouts of muscle weakness, but it wasn’t so bad if they didn’t push themselves too hard, and they were starting to get antsy with the way everyone seemed to watch to make sure they weren’t doing too much. Preston especially. “Preston, we both know that we can’t go much longer without the parts for the water purifier. And I can get more supplies than just the parts while I’m there. We need more crop seeds. We both did inventory yesterday, you know this.”

Preston looked defeated. Thoroughly worn out, and wholeheartedly defeated. Sole knew he hadn’t been sleeping, they knew he hadn’t been eating properly so Jun and Mama Murphy could get extra, and he had been watching the water supply closer than he watched them. He needed sleep. He needed someone to step up on equal footing and take part of the burden, and unfortunately, that required pushing back and arguing, not just following every order he gave. Someone needed to take care of him the way he took care of everyone else, and Sole was there for the job.

They stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, voice low. “I’m not doing this to be an ass or out of spite. I’m doing this because we both know it’s the only option. You’ve had me in bootcamp for a good minute here, and Curie thinks this is my new ‘top shape.’ Let me help, Preston. Let me do the right thing.”

Preston looked up and took a sharp breath before crushing them into his chest for a minute. After a tight squeeze, he pushed them away and didn’t meet their eyes. “Fine.” He didn’t seem pleased, the concern still carving lines between his brows. “I don’t like it.”

“I know, Pres’. But I’ll be alright. Always am.”

His chuckle was dry, though he nodded. “ Always defying the odds, yeah? Dammit. Let’s go talk to Sturges, then. Make sure he’s in the loop and can get you everything you need together before you go.”

Next chapter will be much longer (rough est. about 6k words) as a heads up!

#back to eden #fallout 4 fanfiction #nick valentine #gender neutral sole survivor #slow burn #angst with a happy ending

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deathclaw-for-cutie · 10 days ago

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Cat in a Hot Tin Suit: The End of the World Was Only the Beginning - Chapter 26

The one where Sturges has something to tell Cat.

Work Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: F/M, Gen, Multi, Other

Relationships: Female Sole Survivor/Sturges, Female Sole Survivor/Nick Valentine, Female Sole Survivor/Paladin Danse

Additional Tags/Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Eventual Romance, Anxiety, Trauma, Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Consent is Sexy, Vaginal Sex, Penis in Vagina Sex, Oral Sex, Nick has a Dick, Sorry not Sorry, Eventual Polyamory, Sturges Knows He’s a Synth, No Beta We Die Like Kellogg

Chapter Tags: Fluff, Mention of Past Non-Con Situation, Coming Out

Excerpt:

Nick and Sturges helped Cat bring her gear from the power armor’s storage compartment into her house. She had pulled her personal purchases out of the duffel bag and left it at Sturges’. Now she placed the dress and shoes on her kitchen table. She tucked the shirt under her arm with a private smile.

Cat stood in front of Nick and straightened the collar of his coat. “Will you be all right by yourself for a little bit, love?”

Nick smiled. “I’ll be fine, kid,” he assured her. “I’ll just run some diagnostics. Been a while.”

“Sounds like a party.” Cat went up on tiptoe and kissed him softly on the cheek.

The rings of Nick’s eyes brightened as the corner of his mouth curled up, and Cat saw his pupils dilate as the synth looked between her and Sturges. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t, you two,” he drawled.

Sturges held aside the tarp in his empty doorway so Cat could enter, then let it drop as he followed her inside. He pulled off his gloves and arm wraps as he went into the kitchen. Cat heard the refrigerator door open, and there was a soft sound of clinking glass as he rummaged inside.

Cat looked around as she unlatched the Pip-Boy and set it on a side table. Sturges had tacked fabric up over the windows for some privacy. Mismatched and faded, of course—the height of apocalypse-chic. A couple of oil lanterns gave off more than enough light to see by. She smiled fondly at the poetry books scattered amongst the tools and machine parts on the coffee table, and laughed at the pinup poster of the Nuka Cola Girl hanging on the wall.

Sturges came out of the kitchen with a couple of open beers and placed them on the table. He cupped his hand against her cheek. Cat swallowed heavily and leaned into his touch. He pulled her in close, wrapping his arms tight around her.

“Don’t know how I could forget how damn small you are, sugar,” he murmured, swaying gently back and forth. “Such a tiny thing, to be carryin’ so much. But you do, somehow, and then some—and damned if it ain’t the most amazin’ thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m hardly amazing,” Cat said, her voice muffled against his shirt. “I’m just doing what needs to be done.”

Sturges chuckled. “And that, darlin’, is amazing. So many people would just figure it ain’t their problem and look the other way. You see somethin’ that ain’t right and you do your best to make it right.”

#fallout #fallout 4 #fo4 #fanfic #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #female sole survivor #fo4 sturges

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finniestoncrane · 2 years ago

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💚 my requests are always open 🩷

you can find my writing:

in my tag

on my masterlist

my AO3

important things first:

🔞🔞🔞 minors DNI 🔞🔞🔞 you can request anonymously 💚 i don't write in order of when things are received, i do it based on inspiration. if i can't think of anything for something after a few months i'll delete it without explanation, sorry i have a prompt tag and if you use it let me know which prompt list you've asked for or let me know more than just the numbers! let me know gender specifics of "reader" if there is one (pronouns, genitals etc.) if you don't specify it'll be gender neutral or female please don't include images or gifs in your requests, they visually overwhelm me and make it difficult to tackle the prompt i mostly identify as cis/white/afab so keep this in mind if you request nb/trans/t4t/different races/male reader presenting etc. i will choke you if you don't reblog and like the thing you requested, be nice and supportive!

requests i accept:

i write for batman rogues, fallout and a few other characters! for dc rogues headcanons: i will do multiple characters per post for headcanons but only for all general rogues, a specific dork squad (in my do writes!) or all iterations that i write for of a specific character e.g. ✅ can you write first dates with arkham!dork squad? ✅ what would all the riddlers do on a first date? ✅ how would the rogues handle a first date? (if you ask for all iterations of a specific character i'll either write for them all or pick several of them depending on the ask. if you want one specifically to be included just let me know)

characters i write for:

🦇 DC/BATMAN 🦇

Riddler (⭐arkham, dano, ⭐zero year, telltale, TWOJAR, gotham, BTAA, young justice, BU, BTAS, general)

Penguin (⭐farrell, BTAA, telltale, OBD, gotham, general)

Scarecrow (⭐arkham, ⭐BTAA, golden age, general)

Two Face (⭐arkham, BTAA, general)

Victor Zsasz (gotham, general)

Mad Hatter (arkham, gotham - NO INCEST, general)

Captain Boomerang (⭐ss:ktjl, general)

Poison Ivy (arkham, general)

Polkadot Man (suicide squad)

Harley Quinn (telltale, arkham, ss:ktjl, ⭐general)

Bane (arkham, telltale, OBD, ⭐general)

Harvester (bu)

Amanda Waller (ss:ktjl)

Mr. Freeze (arkham, gotham, general)

John Doe/Joker (telltale)

Butch Gilzean/Solomon Grundy (gotham)

King Shark (ss:ktjl, general)

Deadshot (ss:ktjl, general)

Killer Croc (arkham!origins, general)

Firefly (arkham, general)

Harvey Bullock (gotham)

Alfred Pennyworth (gotham, general)

Black Mask (arkham, general)

Sofia Gigante/Falcone (the penguin series)

☢️ Fallout Franchise ☢️

Cooper Howard (fallout prime)

Maximus (fallout prime)

Thaddeus (fallout prime)

John Hancock (fallout 4)

Sturges (fallout 4)

Edward Deegan (fallout 4)

Paladin Danse (fallout 4)

Nick Valentine (fallout 4)

Kent Connolly (fallout 4)

🔴 TF2 🔵

please note!!: i'll write all ships (plus blu x red) and i'll base the dynamic either on your request or on my own interpretation of them

sniper/mick mundy

scout/jeremy

soldier/jane doe

demoman/tavish degroot

heavy/mikhail/misha

engineer/dell conagher

medic/ludwig

pyro

spy

💚 Other Characters 💚

Cecil Stedman (invincible)

Walter Skinner (x-files)

Arthur Morgan (red dead redemption 2)

Hosea Matthews (red dead redemption 2)

Kieran Duffy (red dead redemption 2)

Micah Bell (red dead redemption 2)

Susan Grimshaw (red dead redemption 2)

Bill Williamson (red dead redemption 2)

Egon Spengler (ghostbusters)

Nick (left 4 dead 2)

i will write:

x reader, x fem/male/gn character, ships, headcanons

absolutely yucky disgusting smut of most kinds

most kinks including knife play, blood play, bondage, sub/dom, pain play, mommy/daddy, etc.

darker themes like cnc, dubcon, noncon, somnophilia, hypnotism, manipulation, gaslighting, guilting

angst, fluff, romance, friendships, hurt/comfort

jealousy, yandere, obsessive themes etc.

ships plus ships x reader also!

non-ship pairings of characters in my "will write" criteria

death, gore, extreme violence

blood, cum, spit and some piss

injuries, pain etc.

imagines, scenarios, full fics, short fics, headcanons

i won’t write:

underage characters (at all, in any scenario, including platonic or familial)

vomit, shit or breast milk

real people

bestiality

pregnancy/pregnancy sex/having children/step-children

age play (daddy and mommy kink fine, dd/lg not for me!)

incest

characters x monster/monster!reader (may do in commissions)

OCs or overly detailed reader specifications (may do in commissions)

AUs or crossovers (may do this in commissions)

extreme anal i.e. fisting/enemas/stretching (may do in commissions)

also i am anti-cancel culture! i'm not about to out you/report you/fuck with your privacy if you send me anything that i'm not sure about or uninterested in writing

and finally, no pressure at all but if you want to thank me i would greatly appreciate reblogs, comments, and maybe even a tip

#finnie shouts into the void

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everythingbutresolved · 3 years ago

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Hear hear! I recently (two nights ago) re-watched Midnight Mass (no, I don't have a life outside work, I collect meme and buy books I don't have time to read) so yesterday night, instead of: finish the WIP I should have ended a month ago / sleep / read a real book / sleep / call a friend / sleep...you get it, I pulled a late night fic session. This monster is the result. I'm not responsible for the incomprehensible parts and typos, my Hamish-rotten brain is.

I hope you'll enjoy:

Thirst / AO3

Characters: Father Paul (M) / Reader (F)

Tags: minors away! / vampirism / self-harm / Father Paul is a tall menace / Bev is Bev / catholicism f*ucked me up / blasphemous use of religious formulas / blood thirst / the greatest shag you could ever have on a Thursday night in very curious circumstances with a sexy vampire priest / oh yes obviously smut / it means sex / dirty dirty sex

Premise:

You are a parishioner at the time Riley has not been turned yet, but John has, and between his first death and Millie's forced restart_exe he was neck deep in a delusional fantasy, and progressively more unhinged. Joe Collins's death was an act of God, but had to remain an isolated call. Bev arranged a list of loyal disciples that would willingly "offer themselves" for a mysterious purpose. Meanwhile John is hearing the voice of the angel clearer and louder and it is more and more difficult to STOP himself from snap at Sturge, or even Bev, and quench his thirst, quiet the pull from his stomach that turns everything hot and red. The voice that compels him to devour and rip apart, becoming one thing with the light.

If only there was something equally fulfilling...

When Bev asked you to "offer a service to God" the answer was yes, of course, anything for the parish. True, the miracles on Crockett Island were astonishing and the islanders' mood was the beast it had been in years. People smile again and the atmosphere is electrifying. Work is flowing in and you think you can pay the last tranche of debts soon and move to the mainland. But right now, you would do anything to help (and maybe get closer) the charismatic priest who caused so much turmoil among the churchgoers.

His sermons moved you to tears, but the rumble of his voice and his tremendous energy pinned you to the bench at every mass, and the contrast with the gentle, sweet man you meet outside church puzzles you. His ghost follows you home and stays with you at your work desk. You see his pitch black eyes staring at you at communion, when you kneel at his feet and the vision of him pulling your hair back and sliding a thumb in your parted lips murmuring "body of Christ" blurs, and then you rise up on wobbly legs, heat pulsing almost painfully between your legs.

And now you are in the same room with Beverly Keane, and Father Paul, as you know him, and Bev is telling you of the sacrifice of the Lamb and Isaac and how the Almighty would never hurt the true believer for no reason. All you understand is that you have to do it on yourself, and Father Paul is somehow involved. You're sitting in front of each other, you in plain shirt and a short pleated skirt, a rare exception to your usual slacks, Father Paul in skinny jeans that clashed with the white collar on black buttoned up shirt. Like he was wearing the clothes of two different people, or he left the house in a rush before he could decide if today he was Father, late for a parish meeting, or Paul, going on a date.

Bev explains to you that it's just a cut, on the arm or maybe the thigh, eying disapprovingly your naked knees. Against your best intentions, you blush at the thought. Father Paul seems to notice, but his gaze doesn't move from Bev who wants your reassurance about absolute discretion on this encounter.

"I won't tell a soul. So" you look at Father Paul, who is still avoiding eye contact "Can you tell me what and how exactly this is going to happen?"

He is quick to deliver an answer, while stretching his back on the chair. Distracted by the sway of his hips you struggle to focus on words (but for real, those jeans are way too stretch, no surprise he has to spread his legs like that) but you're brought back to reality by the seriousness of his tone.

"You will cut yourself, I suggest the forearm to begin with (your eyes involuntary dart to his slender thighs) something small, please don't severe a finger" He says the last words with a hint of worry that you perceive a bit paternalistic.

A Father all in all.

"And then? You'll collect my...blood or I let it flow or.."

"It will be collected and you will be medicated, Bev will take care of the whole operation. The pain will be minimal and the loss risible. And thank you. God bless your gift."

He sits up and puts a hand on your shoulder and you would never tell anyone but there's a sudden shift in Father Paul's posture, like he's preparing to get closer to you, almost leaning on you, but the voice of Bev captures your attention once again. The woman has the uncanny talent of make you want to curse under breath just to see her stiffen.

"Actually Father, I need to find Sturge before mass starts tonight, he seems to be crossing a rough patch of faith, and my presence is essential. I was going to call Dolly to assist but...you were quite insisting on calling her here tonight and I had no time, the errands on my shoulders are multiplying - not that I'm complaining Father, but with you indisposed it's my responsibility to carry on the parish. I will call for her now, if you excuse me."

"No, I will do it."

"Mons... Father, I don't think it's a good idea. I'm sure Dolly won't mind to help."

" Dolly is too excitable, she almost fainted last time we...asked her contribution. X/You here will follow my instructions and I will help with the medication."

Bev standed still, eyes darting from him to you with apprehension and a hit of annoyance "Are you sure you don't want me to come back then, it will just take a few..."

"It will be fine Bev, my necessities have been taken care of this morning, X/You will be home before dusk, we don't want to bother her more than it's necessary. You can go. Please."

Necessities?

Anyways, hearing his voice dropping two octaves while basically kicking Bev Keane out was enough to make you say yes to whatever was happening there. As long as he kept smiling at you like that.

"Very well, I'll see you in the rectory then. X/You. Father."

The clang of the door echoed loud in the empty hall. Father Paul was standing in front of you (how did he move so fast?) offering you a surgeon knife by the blade, a brass goblet in the other hand.

Not something you expect from a regular Thursday night.

"I'll keep this underneath your arm, close to the skin. We'll count till 100 and then you'll press this gauze on the cut. I'll tie a knot on with a bandage and then you'll go home." He stops and looks straight at you, arms crossed on his chest. He shines another boyish smile and a rush of blood pulls to your core, giving you heart-flutters. He must have noticed the sudden reddening of your cheeks because he steps closer, towering over you, an alarmed expression on his face. "You don't have to be scared, it will be quick and almost painless. Trust me."

Embarrassed at your own bodily reaction, you mentally thank God for making Father Paul think you are suddenly freaking out. Although you are, a little.

"I know I promised to not make a word of this but I need to know it. Who is this for? Is it you? Has it something to do with your stomach bug and your fainting? Are you ill?"

He's so close you can smell his lavander soap and a musky scent underneath, and curiously, he seems to be doing the same with you. His voice becomes a murmur, so low you can feel it reverberating in your chest.

"There are many things I need to explain, X/You, to you, to the parishioners, and all will be revealed in God's time. All the mysteries we have been confided in, the Lord's blessings and the marvelous things coming soon on this island. Yes, I've been ill and I'm still...recovering. In my prayers I ask God to cast his light on me and he answered me with such strenght and clarity I can only obey his wish. He shows me who to enter in communion with, to share his light with, and I follow his commandments."

You're both standing now, his hands are hanging loose, the goblet strangled in one hand while he delivers the most absurd monologue you've ever heard. His words make no sense but the vulnerability he's showing is drawing you closer to him.

"What do you mean for enter in communion?"

He shuffles on his feet, visibly indecisive before shrugging off a thought.

"Eat and drink these, cause it is my blood and my flesh, offered in sacrifice to you. Transubstantiation. I enter more in contact with God the more I let him operate through me."

The realization pours on you, freezing you on the spot

"You're drinking their blood?" The question is so absurd you can't believe your own voice. Father Paul widens his eyes in a pleading expression, the face of innocence.

"I saw you, at mass." What the?...

You involuntary blush, again. You just heard him confessing something too crazy to be true, a telepathic priest is going to be the final straw. Did he notice your gaze lingering too long on his thick mane, or how you seemed always the last to leave church, so that you could savory the thrill of being alone with him, even if for few moments, in the dim lit hall?

"The people that are offering their help, giving me...nourishment, they all look like you do."

"Concerned and frankly confused?"

"Hopeful". A short intake of breath, then Father Paul closes the gap between you two and you are almost knocked off by the quiet strenght he exudes. The man in front of you has decided to abandon all his previous masks and open up to you. He's demanding, no, pretending all your attention and you can't refuse. Large hands land on your shoulders and almost cover your collarbone.

"You come to church almost every day, and each time you go home restored, the word of God soothing your pains and worries. I see the light of faith shining brighter, your steps lighter. I know your story, X/You, it hasn't been easy to come back here after so many years, weaving the strings of your life in a tolerable shape. Always kind, always looking for a hint of hope. I see that. Your heart can't lie, not even now. You don't have to be lonely anymore"

You can hear you own heartbeats muting your thoughts, and it's with incredible difficulty that you stop your traitor body from lean closer and dwell in Father Paul's embrace, but somehow you resist.

"Sounds a lot like a hunter who studies a prey before asking them to cross the street blindfolded."

Father Paul lets you go all at once and you curse yourself for missing the warmth of his palms on your arms but you stand and watch him sitting back on the chair. His expression is indecipherable, but the energy in the room is long from faded. What is worse, you don't want to get out of there either, whatever is happening, his focus on you is intoxicating. The mention of your lack of close friends on the island stings though, and you wonder if he's aware of your "other" loneliness, although as a priest he already heard your confession.

Your secrets.

Sure, you didn't adventure into details, but c'mon, he could be crazy but he can read a room.

"There's a theory that some animals are more willing to face the unknown for the benefit of the rest of the pack. They trust their intuition. There could be a monster on the other side of the valley or the Elysian Fields, they can only hope and pray to their god. What is your gut telling you? Complete honesty, X/You, I am being honest, right now, with you."

"Is it true? You're really convinced God has a plan for all of us, and you are, what, his executioner?"

"I'm just a humble missionary"

"You seem quite confident for a man who didn't dare to look me in the eye when you meet me outside of church"

His eyes sparkle mischievously, palms up in sign of surrender.

"It was not my intention to offend you, but you should know how overwhelming your energy is. Since my...dizzy spell I became quite sensitive about other people's presence. You, young lady, could fill a room with the strenght of your emotions. I see you sitting in the same pew day after day and I know you want to believe. I see your desire. I see all of your desires. I know this is so much all at once but I ask you to open up and listen. Open yourself up to hope, have courage. Or you will sit on that bench all your life waiting for someone to decide for you"

It's the quietest your internal fire alarms have been since Bev left the room, and you take a deep breath before walking the short distance that divides you from Father Paul, invading the space between his parted legs and looking down on him, a curious feeling of empowerment filling you to the troath. Ready or not, here you come.

"If it's so hard to be in my company, explain why you have invited ME here, when you have avoided to be alone with me for more than few minutes. Well, apart from confession."

"Apart from confession." He smiles, locking your eyes without showing willingness to move from a frankly awkward position. Your knees are grazing his thighs, sending sparks down deep to your core. You feel yourself losing power in that stare, and for a moment you accept to believe the frankly batshit crazy story you've been told.

"If it's true I want to see it. You need my blood? Show me it is true and maybe I'll believe"

"You want proof? Put your finger in my chest, see the sign of the nails in my hands? We really do not have to go that way"

"From what you've told me you are the one who is gonna stick his teeth in my wrist. Why wasting any nourishment when you can drink from the tap?"

You see his eyes darkening, and wonder if the promised land is, in fact, a schoolbus that's gonna crush your stupid rabbit head.

"I don't want to hurt you"

You grab the blade on the chair behind you, and before you have time to think again you sink it into your arm just above the wrist and pull, praying you have not signed your death certificate. The blood is darker that you expected, and immediately starts to drip on the linoleum.

"C'mon Father, drink".

He's on you in a second, locking you arm with both hands, and the the look he gives you is one of pure amazement, and you did not know what to expect except pain, but the mouth on your cut is almost reverent, and the sound of his tongue lapping and sucking your bloody wrist is so obscene that you hear yourself moan, shocked by the sudden intimacy and the (not painful, not exactly) motion of suction, alternate by the swallowing sounds. You run your hand through Paul's curls, mimicking the rythm of his lapping. Your arousals scares you for its intensity, and your knees decide you had enough for the day and give up. Paul is immediately holding you while you slump on the ground without breaking contact with your skin. His long legs keep up your torso, and you don't protest when a large hand wraps around your naked thigh, your skirt lifted up your waist. Everything is indecent in the picture you're in. The unnatural feeding is simultaneous to the seductive way his fingers slide up under the hem of your skirt, grazing the silky fabric of your underwear. You shove your hips against the hand pinning you down (oh how many times you have imagined him stepping down the altar and doing this), begging for pressure.

It's grotesque. And it's the most erotic thing that has ever happened to you.

A loud pop and a low groan come from the place where Paul's head is, and you shiver when you feel his tongue lapping your sore arm, cleaning the wounds as a mother cat would do with her kitten.

"Don't stop. I...can take more."

Father Paul ignores your embarrassing plea, and retrieves a handkerchief that he clumsily knots around your wrist. His shoulders are tense, hair tousled, eyes dark as night-sky, gleaming gold in the fluorescent light.

He's himself and something else. He's the gorgeous man who you first saw in a golden chasuble, and he's also a wild animal caught in the moonlight. A part of him that clearly wants to devour you. You clench at the thought.

"This should be enough to stop the bleeding. It will heal soon, you'll see."

His mouth is smeared with your blood and you have to represse the urge to lick it off him.

"Thank you for letting me show you. Are you still scared?"

It's only then that he regains consciousness of his hand still browsing over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, but when he does, he doesn't move it. Your head is light, you skin burning with want. This is madness, and you're Alice all the way through the mirror. You put your hand on his and guide it over your sex, which ached at the light pressure. The sharp intake of breath is followed by a shifting on the spot, like he is trying to find a more comfortable position.

"So you were never afraid then. You heard His voice too, although the message may differ."

Still cradling between his legs, you run your hands to his shoulders and wrap them behind his neck, fingers digging in the luscious mane.

"I think you owe me a more complete explanation, but before that, I need you to hear this." You pull yourself closer, murmuring in his ear "I'm not afraid of you, Father. In fact, I think you haven't finished feeding yet".

With those words you are signing a contract that you don't know if you will ever be able to fulfill, but before the bus stomps you, or you find the promised land, if the World is crazier than to you have ever thought, there's still one thing you want. And you're not letting it go.

The man you learned to call Father Paul, who just drank your blood and can hear your heartbeat, pulls you against his chest, groaning in the crook of your neck, and for a moment you think he's gonna rip you apart, but then he gently lays your shivering body down and covers you head to toe with his. The strength with which you're manhandled makes you hold your breath in anticipation, and when he rips open your shirt and hums at the sight of your exposed flesh you're not so sure anymore of how this story will end. You remember something, and surprise yourself with an embarrassing confession:

"One night, not long ago, I was walking home and I couldn't stop my feet from heading towards church. I stand there hours summoning the courage to knock at your door."

"I know, I heard you. Your heart drum the most fascinating melody. You didn't knock though."

"I knocked once and then I ran. I hoped you would think is was just a bird."

"I was curious to see what you'd do. What did you want?"

"I...wanted to see you. Alone. I didn't know if it was the mentor that I needed, or the man"

"And if I had answered it?" Dexterous fingers exploring your body, opening zippers and removing every barrier to your skin.

"After opening the door and let me in, I'd have shut the door behind and followed you. I'd bring you near the desk. You'd leant back on it while I kneeled and worked your trousers open. I'd look up at you lick my lips and you'd let me take you in my mouth."

Pants and bra are the last items to go, leaving you at the mercy of Paul, who is stroking you like a soft, delicate pet. When you move your hands to touch yourself, desperate for contact, he twists your arms under your back, and keeps you in that constraining position while he discards his own clothes and you're both finally naked.

"I'd run my tongue up and down and swallow every inch of you until you are a mess and beg in my name."

"I can say it now, X/You. And beside, that is not how I intend to fill you up, deepening our communion."

You arch your back, trying to establish more satisfying contact. You feel his muscles tensing, thrusting his whole body against yours as he pushes your legs apart and grabs the back of your thighs, aligning himself to your entrance. The head of his cock finds your throbbing cunt, wet by unhinged thoughts that keep shaping in your mind.

Of all the things you want to do to him.

Of all the things you pray he does to you.

Paul lifts his head to the ceiling, eye closed, unmoving, trembling.

"Forgive me Lord for I am going to follow your commands which are ineffable and as you teach me every day revealing your great and mysterious plan. For if I am going to sin is to surrender to - oh my god - your greatest purpose and through communion getting closer to you. Amen"

The curse that followed would have been hilarious if it was not that Paul had started to meticulously stretch you open, each thrust a bit deeper, until his cock is shoved in till the groin. The pleasure is so exquisite you start sobbing.

Only then Paul puts his mouth on yours in a soft kiss, and you can taste copper on his tongue. His golden, mesmerizing eyes are fixed in yours, but they are not asking for permission.

"Amen" is all you say, and it begins.

He starts fucking you ruthlessly, chasing friction. You shift lower down on the floor and he takes the hint, pushing your legs up using the new angle to sink all the way in, fingers marking your ass in the same way a lion uses his claws to claim his mate. He's already close, and so are you, but you don't want this to be over yet. You couldn't overpower him in your wildest dream, his body weight enough to crush you if he wasn't careful, and you are realising the chasuble hid a rock-solid body, muscle tensing the glistening skin. He suddenly slows down the rythm, letting your legs down, limp and useless, and slides an arm under your back, pressing your clit in a maddeningly slow, deepening hips swaying.

"Since we're in this together, let's take our time, uh?" His kisses are long and sensual now, and you don't even notice anymore the rusty lingering taste "I can feel your desire, your blood pressure rising, the sensitive peripheral nerves flooded with electricity. Every part of you reacts to my touch, it's delightful. Your need is so strong I can smell it."

Pleasure and frustration take you over in waves, sending sparks to your mounting peak.

"What does it smell like?"

"Iron. Pheromones. Something sweeter from your cunt, like ripe cherries. The salt on your skin evaporating on mine. Your desire is sticky, I won't get it off me for weeks"

"I hope so. My blood is inside you, now I want you to make me forget about it and fuck me like it's my last wish. And like it's the only thing you need right now."

The look he gives you turns you even more delirious, making you clench hard around his length. One hand busy caressing your troath, Paul uses the other to sustain your arching back and finally fuck you thoroughly, each thrust hitting an exquisite spot that is making you see stars under your shut lids.

"It's a good thing I didn't answer that night, X/You." You dwell in the sound of his voice, so gentle and menacing at the same time, like a distant rumble announcing a storm "You most certainly would have had what you were looking for but..."

You groan at the thought, and you pull Paul's fingers to your mouth, sucking his index and feeling the heat pooling in your sex when he moans.

"But I'm not sure I would have been able to control myself. You see, even now, with you like this, begging me to make you come, full, satiated, all I want is to bite you again. Feed again." He stops and closes his eyes, hard, fast thrusts hitting your spot.

"Paul" he opens his eyes and the glimmer gives you an involuntary shiver "If you can control yourself, and you have shown me you can, then do it. Bite me."

He stops moving altogether, one hand cupping your neck

"It is a sin... indulging in...I will not stop. I could not stop."

"Feel my heart" you bring his hand on your breast, cupping his face with the other. "I'm not afraid, Paul. I want it. I want you."

With a swift move he lifts you up and makes you sit on him, impaling you deeper than before but letting you room for movement. You immediately start grinding on his cock, finally feeling the pressure getting ready to be released. Murmuring something that sounded like a prayer, Paul makes a fist of your matted hair, exposing the gentle curve of your neck.

"Paul -oh god - I am going to finish soon if you keep...oh"

The bite is more painful than the cut, but somehow you know he hasn't sunk deep. The obscene sucking sound is accompanied by Paul's arms pressing you closer, bringing both of you over the brim and back for a few hot-white minutes.

When you come back to your senses, Paul is delicately mending your neck, expression oscillating between exhaustion and gratitude.

He kisses you. And you think you're crying but it's him, murmuring soft-spoken in your ear secrets and prayers.

The only part you can grasp of this litany sounds like "Here, here, my beautiful sin."

🖤🖤🖤

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filminghere · 3 years ago

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I was tagged by @glamourofyesteryear, @norashelley, and @classicfilmgemz to list seven of my comfort films. Thank you all for tagging me, and apologies for taking so long to get around to it!

I’ve already listed my top 10 comfort films in a different tag game before, so I decided to try to list seven different films in addition to the ones I named in that previous post. It was a little harder this time around since I don’t rewatch movies very often. But I came up with a list, and here it is :).

1. Sabrina (1954), dir. Billy Wilder | One of my all-time favorite films. I love the dreamy, melancholic feel of it. Makes me inexplicably wistful. 2. You’ve Got Mail (1998), dir. Nora Ephron | I think The Shop Around the Corner is a better film, but You’ve Got Mail is more of a comfort movie to me. One of my personal favorite rivals-to-lovers in film :). 3. Sullivan’s Travels (1941), dir. Preston Sturges | An absolute masterpiece and one of my favorite films of all time. I am always in awe of Sturges’ stories and how unapologetically wacky they are. His dialogue is snappy, his climaxes are always big and unexpected, and only his directorial touch could do such a smartly written script the proper justice. And as someone working towards a career in the entertainment industry, the film’s theme warms my heart and humbles me. 4. Shadow of a Doubt (1943), dir. Alfred Hitchcock | Any Teresa Wright film is a comfort movie to me because I love her, but I put Shadow of a Doubt on here, mostly because I’ve seen it more times than any of her other films. It’s also my favorite Hitchcock film, so just that combination of S-tier direction and my favorite actress is why this earns a spot on my list. 5. Rebecca (1940), dir. Alfred Hitchcock | Another one of my favorite Hitchcock films. Romance is one of my favorite genres (clearly), and I know this might sound kind of weird, but I actually really like the romance between Maxim and the second Mrs. de Winter. Plus, I love ingénue Joan Fontaine characters. 6. Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory (1971), dir. Mel Stuart | Very much my brand of humor. Plus, I love the music, and it’s also based off one of my favorite children’s books :). 7. Random Harvest (1942), dir. Mervyn Leroy | This movie hurts my heart.

I feel like everyone’s been tagged already lol, so I just tag anyone that wants to do it!

#personal #tag game #my edit #sabrina #you've got mail #sullivan's travels #shadow of a doubt #rebecca #willy wonka and the chocolate factory #random harvest

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dalishkadan · 3 years ago

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wip wednesday

it's been a hot minute since i've done one of these, so thank you @a11sha11fade for the tag! i'll tag @dumbassentity and @thedashingcaptainweird if they'd like to participate. no pressure, of course. :D

today's excerpt is from a fallout story i've been quietly working on and have yet to post, despite having 8 chapters completed and ready to go. yay me for restraint? anyway, here's arthur and joshua's first time meeting each other.

What Arthur didn’t realise was just how fortuitous his agreement would be. As soon as they stepped into the refurbished house, he was almost bowled over with the intensity of the bond. It was so strong it almost felt like it was throbbing, and no wonder. Right in front of him stood his mate, he knew it, knew it in his soul, knew it before the man even turned around and acknowledged them. For a minute or two, Arthur felt as if he was in a bit of a haze, shaken out of it only when the General introduced them. “Elder Maxson? This is Joshua Lennox, Sturges’ new assistant.”

And as he reached out and shook his hand, it felt as if the whole universe coalesced down into that one moment.

[snip]

At one point, Sturges had to step into the back room to wrestle up a few extra things he didn’t keep in the big tool boxes in the main room, and Joshua continued cataloguing what they were taking and packing it. It was then, of course, that several footsteps told him that someone had come calling, and he mentally steeled himself for the day being delayed and not getting back until nightfall. Or worse, having to wait until tomorrow, knowing it was coming and dreading it the whole time. But when he turned around, it was DeeDee and two men that Joshua almost had a simultaneous heart attack and stroke to see on her heels.

Paladin Danse - out of his power armour for once - who was just behind the descendant of Roger Maxson, himself, Elder Arthur Maxson. At least, that’s who it clearly was. He didn’t look much like his in-game model, and that was mostly because he actually looked about 20 years old and not 30 or 40-plus. But despite his lack of facial hair and the cleaner cut, he wore the coat, and more than that, he wore the confidence. No one else walked like a Maxson, no one else had that posture and that poise and that stare. A stare that looked like it cut through to your very soul and pinned you to the floor where you stood. Joshua swore it took every ounce of will in his body to tear his gaze away from Arthur and process DeeDee’s voice as she said, “Joshua! I believe you’ve met Paladin Danse, remember? From ArcJet?”

As she gestured toward him, Joshua couldn’t quite speak words yet, but he nodded and then inclined his head respectfully toward Danse as the Paladin also confirmed, “Affirmative.”

If there was any odd awkwardness, DeeDee didn’t draw any attention to it as she then introduced, “Elder Maxson? This is Joshua Lennox, Sturges’ new assistant.”

Arthur reached out to shake his hand, and Joshua mirrored his actions automatically. I mean, what else did you do when a Maxson went to shake your hand? He was glad he at least that he didn’t freeze on the spot even if he felt weirdly like he was existing outside of his own body. His heartbeat thundered in his ears as it felt like the man whispered his name … “Joshua.”

It damn near send a shiver down his spine. He immediately replied, as if on instinct, “Elder.” Was he breathless? Did he sound breathless? He couldn’t even tell and a light sheen of sweat began to break out on his forehead as the pulse of blood rang against his eardrums louder and louder and louder.

#wip wednesday #fallout #fallout 4 #fanfiction #fanfic #fallout fanfiction #fallout fanfic #fallout fic #fallout 4 fanfiction #fallout 4 fanfic #fallout 4 fic #displaced soulmates #soulmates #arthur maxson x oc

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concussed-to-pieces · 4 years ago

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The Mettle Of A Man; Part Twenty

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Welcome to the end of our tale, everyone! Thank you so much for reading and enjoying over the years. I love you so much and appreciate you more than words can say. Here's to 2021, my friends! Ad Victoriam, and stay safe! Tagging @anonymouscosmos, @culturalrebel, @wrestlingfae, @toxiicpop, @mercy-and-malice, @deepkittycollecto, @nelba, @mechanicalism, @commandershepardshtole, @valkyriejack and @kovu-the-mythical-being. Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Part Seven: Radstag And Radstorm

Part Eight: The Return To Sanctuary Hills

Part Nine: Domestic Ruminations

Part Ten: Institutionalized

Part Eleven: Two Weeks, Three Days

Part Twelve: Haylen’s Warning And The Glowing Sea

Part Thirteen: Under Fire

Part Fourteen: Dichotomy

Part Fifteen: The Litany Trial

Part Sixteen: Nice Try

Part Seventeen: Preparations

Part Eighteen: Divide And Conquer

Part Nineteen: Lucky

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains holiday celebrations, brief emotional distress and unprotected sex. Stay safe!]

Time seemed to pass both too fast and not fast enough.

Synths were accommodated, reprogrammed at their wishes or helped to adjust to their new lives. Doctor Amari and the rest of the Railroad had no shortage of work, and Desdemona eventually tapped MacCready and Cait to oversee their caravan logistics back to the Capital Wasteland.

"And the people of the Commonwealth slept soundly, for the greatest monster was gone." Nick had remarked, touching the brim of his fedora in a half-salute. The old detective quickly appointed himself as head of first impressions in Diamond City, making certain that no trouble befell any wayward synth that accidentally wandered in. There was still a lot of work to be done to repair the Broken Mask incident, after all.

New settlements sprang up overnight and while there may not have been total harmony, there was the sensation of the whole Commonwealth heaving a sigh of relief. Recruits flocked to the Minutemen and Brotherhood in droves as Piper's Publick Occurrences spread the word of their successful campaign against the Institute.

Commonwealth boogeyman decimated by combination effort: Brotherhood Of Steel and Minutemen join forces to save Boston from bodysnatchers!

Deacon had effortlessly deflected Piper every time she asked for an interview, the mysterious man more than content to keep the Railroad shadowy. The less everyone knew, the less they could tell, and that suited him just fine. "You did real good, Icebox. Helped a lot of people."

Elder Brandis sought approval to establish a permanent outpost at the Boston airport ruins, the former paladin keen to send the Prydwen back to the Capital Wasteland. "Oh the Prydwen's a fine ship, but put me in the field any day!" The airship, once a proud symbol of the Maxson reign, now served little purpose aside from blocking the sun on occasion. Scribes laughed and played in the massive shadow, kicking up dust until the circle where the litany trial had taken place was nothing but a memory.

X6-88 had floundered for several weeks, the courser falling into a depressive slump that not even Curie could rouse him from. Oddly enough, it was Preston who ended up being able to haul him out of the darkness, the lieutenant making a point to visit the courser to drag him from his room for target practice and other low-effort patrol duties. "Sometimes all folks need is a hand, General."

The courser went on to reluctantly take the role of defective defector, working as a consultant to the Minutemen to help ward off any future attacks by desperate coursers or Institute scientists. Preston found his input invaluable, and the duo could often be found in the lieutenant's quarters poring over threadbare maps and trading tactical information. Preston also seemed to have a calming effect on the synth hunter, helping to blunt some of the cold steel edge that X6 had honed his entire life. Add on to that the constant caring presence of Curie, and they made a strange but surprisingly effective trio.

With the new supply line firmly established between the verdant utopia of Starlight Drive-In and Oberland Station, the strain of the prior lean months finally eased a bit. Faces grew less pinched even with the increased burden of the synths, and many settlers began to tentatively plan for a small celebration in the beginning of the winter.

"'The Holidays' is what they been callin' it, real simple and succinct. Some freaky hodgepodge of everyone's traditions. I guess a lot of folks on that fancy director's board also celebrated around this time of year. Not that the synths would know, naturally." Hancock had muttered, his expression sour. "Poor bastards always workin', and they ain't got fuckall to show for it. Seems like a shit deal."

Elder Brandis granted Danse an extended leave of absence after the toppling of the Institute without the paladin even requesting it, the large man dumbfounded for a moment upon receiving the news.

"If you're up for it, I could use a hand back at Sanctuary." Vega had grinned up at him, her eyes squinting a little under the force of her smile. "A lot of prep work goes into a holiday, after all."

...

Danse had taken it upon himself to retreat from Shaun's previous bedroom when he accompanied Vega and her son back to Sanctuary. He debated heavily on returning to the airport; after all, there was no real reason for him to stay in Sanctuary Hills, at least none that he dared to dwell upon. The few small projects that Vega had to manage were easily accomplished and he was left a bit lost in the wake of the excess of his leave.

Vega, however, had begun framing in what was once the carpark for her house. Sturges helped of course, and once Danse caught on he was touched by the gesture.

"I don't want you to feel like there isn't room for you just because Shaun is back." Elizabeth had said, lugging a chunk of scrap metal from the wreckage of her car.

The paladin had to take a moment, claiming sawdust in his eye as the culprit.

Now Danse lived in the area she had partitioned off for him, uncertain if he still believed he was intruding. Those thoughts were troubling, because if he could get comfortable…

What if Vega eventually decided that Shaun needed a father and what if...what if she chose a real man? Really real, not a sham like Danse was. And if she did, what man would permit Danse to stay? What real man would permit a synth that was currently entangled by these...human emotions to remain on their property, even if Danse proved he wasn't a threat?

What man would believe him if he claimed to have no interest in Vega? Hell, Danse didn't even believe himself.

But he didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay. He wanted to tell Elizabeth...well, there were a lot of things he wanted to tell her.

His silence was more of a burden each day, and Danse knew he must seem sullen. It gnawed at him; it felt like lying every time he choked the words back down because it wasn't the right time or he just didn't know what to say, and he didn't trust himself not to say something foolish.

He decided he would wait until after the holiday gathering. Whatever the verdict was, it shouldn't take away from the joy she was clearly feeling over the festivities. So Danse threw himself into helping Sturges, Mama Murphy and the Longs around Sanctuary.

Secretly making a toy truck for Shaun had been a painstaking process fraught with peril. Mainly because Danse was somewhat indelicate and carving tiny wheels had never been his area of expertise. Oh certainly, he could build a survival camp with nothing but a combat knife and time, but a toy...

The paladin had spent countless hours creating prototypes in his cobbled-together room as he pondered the path he should take, sometimes working into the wan light of the morning. He eventually showed the truck to Jun, immensely fearful that Shaun might not enjoy the toy. Danse couldn't recall his own interests when he had been Shaun's age, and thus fell back on the other man's expertise.

"It looks good! Sand the wheels a little more, maybe give it a coat or two of paint." Jun praised the pensive paladin, turning the vehicle over in his hands to examine it. "Kyle loved these kinds of things y'know, trucks and trains and little toy boats." His gaze grew distant for a moment, the rough plaything stilling in his grasp. "Marcy thinks she's pregnant." He said abruptly.

"Pregnant?" Danse repeated without meaning to, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.

Jun nodded jerkily. "It's been three months now. She's scared, Mr. Danse, real scared. Thinks something bad will happen."

"What can we do?" The paladin asked sharply.

Jun gawked up at him, seeming confused. "We?"

"I am unfamiliar with this process. What needs to be done?"

"I...I don't follow, Mr. Danse."

"To simplify the duration! What precautions can I-"

"Whoa, hang on." Jun protested. "We aren't sure if the general will even let us stay here with an extra mouth to feed. I've been trying to figure out how to bring up the subject." He admitted.

"You haven't even told General Vega yet?!" Danse squawked.

"W-Well, no! I figured maybe we would...we'd see how the winter went and play it by ear." Jun mumbled, seeming defensive.

Danse seized the other man's arm, heedless of his protests as he hauled him across the front lawn to Vega's abode. Today was the day that Vega had planned to sort through decorations; there were many left over from the fall holiday the Commonwealth had been preparing to celebrate before...well, time had stopped for most when the bombs fell, it was understandable that faded pumpkins and skeletons would still grace crumbling walls with their orangey-cream presence.

Vega looked up from the veritable pile of brittle, salvaged decor in confusion when Danse barged into their...her home, the paladin immediately halting and offering a sharp salute. "Danse! I...uh, what's wrong?"

"Mr. Long has something he needs to discuss with you immediately." Danse informed her, tugging the other man forward.

"I-I...er, General, you…" Jun struggled to speak, twiddling his fingers wildly. "M-Marcy--"

"What's wrong, Jun? Is she okay?" Vega asked, getting to her feet and shooting Danse a worried look. "Did something happen?"

"B-Baby." Jun squeaked. "Pregnant."Backhand went still, her freckles stark against the fresh pallor of her face. "I'm sorry, General, I know we haven't discussed it beforehand a-and I know food's been better as of late...I-I guess she got enough nutrients and got healthy enough for...er, well, you know." Mr. Long looked like he wanted to disappear into the ground. "We should have spoke to you sooner; I don't know if she can leave with the weather being--"

"Wh-Where are you going? Why leave, what?" Vega stammered, "Jun, you can't travel now, if something goes wrong-!"

"We weren't sure if you'd let us stay!" The thin man interrupted her frantically. "This is your base, after all, and you didn't sign on for an extra person to worry about."

Vega inhaled deeply. "Danse, could you give me a minute with Mr. Long?" She requested, her voice suspiciously even.

Danse obeyed, closing the front door gently and meandering a pointed distance down the main thoroughfare so as not to eavesdrop. He had a relatively good idea of how the conversation would go, despite Jun's misgivings. So he wandered down to the huge tree at the end of the cul-de-sac, fiddling with the truck in his pocket absently as he stared upwards at the barren branches.

"Y'know kid," Mama Murphy piped up from her customary chair on her porch and the paladin turned to face her, giving the elderly woman his full attention. "When I had the Sight, I saw this place. Sanctuary." She nodded in the direction of the river, then gestured upwards. "The bridge, and this tree. Massive and old, worn out from all those years." She cocked her head, giving Danse an appraising look. "The tree though, it was...covered in lights. Like what you see in the pre-war mags. The Holidays, shinin' like a beacon of hope at the end of the tunnel."

Danse hummed, the vaguest beginnings of an idea taking root in his mind. He couldn't bring Vega's old life back, but maybe...maybe he could bring something from it back to her. Like what you see in the pre-war mags.

"I think you're pickin' up what I'm puttin' down, kid." Mama Murphy's smile was knowing, the old woman reaching over to pet Dogmeat. The dog seemed to materialize out of thin air sometimes! "Now get to it."

...

Backhand was already scurrying around the kitchen when Danse rose on the morning of the Holiday celebration, the paladin pausing only momentarily to yawn in the doorway before sleepily offering his assistance. "Is there something I can help with, Vega?"

"Uh, Sturges, he said something about you and stuff from Goodneighbor, I think?" Elizabeth replied, obviously preoccupied with whatever she had in the semi-functional oven. Danse nodded, trudging across the kitchen to tug on his boots by the door.

Shaun bounded out of the bathroom, his face still damp from his morning wash. "Oh, can I help too? Please Mom, let me help Mister Danse and Mister Sturges!" He begged.

"You'd better stay right where Danse and Sturges can see you." Backhand instructed him sternly, one oven-mitted hand gesturing to indicate the gravity of the situation. "Otherwise you're coming straight back inside. Go put on your warm coat."

Shaun cheered in delight, racing back to his room.

"It's okay that he's with you two, right? I know he's not your responsibility." Backhand continued in an undertone to the paladin.

Danse's throat tightened and it took him a moment to respond, "I don't mind at all. He's a very well-behaved child."

"Let me know if he's an issue and I'll bring him back inside. I just need to get this done and the oven is being all-"

Danse stood up and placed his hands on her shoulders, deliberately schooling his expression into something more stern. "General, you're doing a fine job. Stop worrying."

"Am I? Shit, I really hope so." Elizabeth mumbled, tipping her forehead until it rested against his chest. Danse prayed she couldn't hear his heart, hammering merely from her proximity. God, his body was nothing but an embarrassment waiting to happen. "I've never really done this crap. Not sure if I'm cut out for it."

The momentary respite was broken when Shaun reappeared in his oversized flannel and oilcloth jacket, the child bolting past the two adults to put on his boots. Danse reluctantly released Backhand, noting how flushed her face was but not really daring to dwell on it. "I'll...I'll watch him." The paladin said, his voice a bit stilted. "I promise."

"Thank you." Backhand mumbled, wiping her eyes and then returning to coddle…whatever it was in the oven.

"Ready, Shaun?" Danse asked the boy, who nodded rapidly and extended a hand.

The snow outside was still fresh from the night before and Danse took a moment to appreciate the view of the Commonwealth covered in a thin layer of white. Off in the distance, the towering crimson insignia of the Red Rocket gasoline station stood stark against the backdrop of the gray sky. Even further down the road slumbered the empty shell of Concord, the tallest of the town's dilapidated buildings only just visible from the paladin's position.

Shaun tugged at his hand, pulling his attention back to the present. "Mister Danse, Mister Sturges is waiting for us!" The child announced, waving up at the engineer who was currently settled into a crook of the brittle branches that graced the tree on the cul-de-sac island. "Hi Mister Sturges!"

"Howdy fellas! Come to give me a helpin' hand?" Sturges called, grinning down at the two of them.

"What assistance can we offer?" Danse queried, wary that the other man might suggest Shaun climb up to him. His fears were quickly allayed when Sturges instead asked Shaun and Danse to begin untangling the long strands of old lights.

Hancock and his ilk had arrived from Goodneighbor, bearing the gifts of dubious treats and many, many mangled strings of lights. Goodneighbor had always been drenched in neon, after all, so Danse had assumed the ghoul mayor would be the best person to call upon for aid. It would appear that Hancock had delivered in spectacular fashion.

"With your help, we'll have this place lookin' pretty as a picture in no time!"

…

Maybe she had bitten off slightly more than she could chew, trying to cook a traditional dinner. Backhand sighed, glumly poking at the cold poultry with a wooden spoon. Her cooking skills had never been much to write home about in the first place, and this only served to solidify that fact.

"Oh Mum, I'm so sorry. The old oven just isn't how it used to be." Codsworth commented, his mechanical voice tinged with melancholy.

"It's not a big deal, Codsworth. I hate to waste the food, that's all." Backhand muttered, assuring herself that she wasn't fighting back frustrated tears, her eyes were just tired. "Damn thing didn't even get to the warm phase."

"Mum, if I might suggest…?" The robot started hesitantly, carrying on when she nodded. "Perhaps it can be salvaged. After all, we make bread in that same pan by tucking it beneath the hot coals out front. What do you say, shall we give it a go?"

"Got nothing to lose, right?"

"It will be just fine, Mum! You're an adaptive sort." Codsworth remarked, drifting out the front door to stoke the usual cooking fire to life once more. "Indeed, just fine!" He called.

Vega shook her head ruefully. "Oh I'm sure." The woman grumbled. "Can't cook and comes with baggage. What a catch ol' Vega is." At least the bread had come out well, in spite of the brisk weather. She could thank whoever for that small favor.

Once Codsworth had coaxed the embers to life in the fire pit, Elizabeth bundled up and brought the still-cold cast-iron pot outside. Maybe it had been wishful thinking to believe that the oven portion of her stove would still work. Or even heat at all. It had been promising earlier in the week, but this might be a blessing in disguise. If the whole house had gone up due to a cooking malfunction...well, the holidays wouldn't be too happy then, would they?

"Please cook." She begged under her breath, troweling hot coals onto the battered dutch oven lid. "I need this, y'know? Just a little victory, that's all I'm asking for here."

"Shall I get started on the tatoes, Miss Vega?"

Elizabeth nodded, only half-listening to Codsworth. She knew she would have a good forty five minutes to an hour to wait, and it wasn't as if it was colder outside than it was inside. The joys of semi-functional heating!

Vega shook her head at herself after a second, since when did she dwell on everything that Sanctuary wasn't? At the end of the day, it was her home. She wouldn't trade it for the world, and she knew she had much more than most people.

At that thought, her gaze wandered to where Danse and Shaun were. The larger man had Shaun on his shoulders while he patiently unwound a massive bundle of flickering string lights. Shaun, for his part, was passing the untangled lights up to Sturges. The engineer slid down the ladder so he could reach the child, looping the lights over his arm before climbing back up and painstakingly placing them in the gnarled grasp of the tree's limbs.

The manufactured cheer that the lights had given off pre-war was still somewhat there, though the radiant colors were washed out to pastel and the warm whites had gone dingy gray. Instead of it being a melancholy reminder that her life had changed irreparably, Backhand was overcome with gratitude. For her son's safe return, regardless of his synthetic makeup, and for the man who was currently carrying Shaun on his shoulders. For her home, for her family.

A family.

Perhaps she was getting a little ahead of herself. After all, Danse was still adjusting to life in ordinary time. It would be selfish of her to voice her feelings to him while he was coming to terms with everything that had happened. For better or for worse, their lives were different now.

It ought to be enough that he was in her life at all. She should be content. His presence alone was a miracle; for all intents and purposes he should be dead. Yet there he was, mere feet away, helping to brighten up the holiday celebration.

Tonight there would be a multitude of visitors. God only knew how many would arrive from settlements near and far, to say nothing of Goodneighbor, Diamond City, the Prydwen and the Castle! It would be an incredibly busy evening for certain. Hancock had arrived early with a posse of ragtag drifters from Goodneighbor, all of them offering gifts of food or scavenged ornaments to decorate. Hence the massive mound of lights that was currently being diligently sorted through.

The aforementioned ghoul appeared to have delegated the task of quality checking the lights, as his form currently leaned against the faded blue siding of her house. With cigarette smoke wafting from his mouth and nasal cavity in equal amounts, he seemed content to just watch the chaos unfold.

"Aren't you a little chilly?" Backhand queried, raising an eyebrow. The mayor was still clad in his usual garb of...for lack of a better term, repurposed period dress. Granted it wasn't seasonably cold out, at least not like how she remembered it being before the bombs dropped.

"Nah, we ghouls run pretty warm. Ham's like a portable space heater." Hancock answered, giving her a lazy grin. "Cute of you to worry, though. I must be growin' on ya'."

"Whoa there, let's not get too crazy."

"Whatcha' think, General?" Sturges shouted from his perch, waving to get her attention.

Danse turned in place, appearing to realize that she was watching as his hands flew up and grabbed Shaun's legs, stabilizing the small boy on his shoulders.

Backhand couldn't keep from smiling when she called back, "it looks wonderful! Keep up the great work!"

"That ain't the only thing that looks wonderful, right Sunshine?" Hancock snickered, rolling his eyes at the now-sputtering woman. "You better give the Brave Little Toaster the ride of his life, that's all I gotta' say."

"Hancock!" Vega hissed, making a half-hearted swipe at the mayor. "You fuckin'--"

"Ah ah, little pitchers!" Hancock scolded, tilting his head to the side to draw Vega's attention to the rapidly-approaching form of Duncan, MacCready's son. "Gotta' watch that mouth of yours, Sunshine."

"This ain't over, ya' raisin-lookin' bastard." Backhand snarled under her breath, pasting on a friendly smile for Duncan while Hancock wheezed with laughter. "Hey bud, how's things?" She greeted the child, who grimaced.

"Dad's kissin' Miss Cait again. S'gross." The little boy announced, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"That does sound pretty gross." Hancock piped up before Backhand could reply. "But you like seein' your old man happy, right? The lady makes him happy. Simple as that."

"Yeah, I guess. Can I play with Shaun?" Duncan asked Vega, eyes wide as he seemed to take in the tree covered with lights.

"Go ahead, kiddo! Just be careful and stay away from Sturges' ladder." Elizabeth warned, grinning when the little boy took off with a whoop.

Cait and MacCready strode up after a moment, both of them red-faced. MacCready bent double, his hands on his knees. "I'm not built for these bullsh--awful conditions." He panted. "I don't know how the kid does it. He was nearly dead a few months ago and now he's out here kicking the snow in the a--er, butt."

Backhand glanced around, and then snorted. "You call this snow? It's a dusting. Back before-"

"Ah ah, easy now Mumsicle, we ain't got time for yer trip down memory lane." Cait teased. "Work to be done, aye? C'mon then, General, shape up. What you doin' on the ground anyway, all crouched like a mother hen broodin'?"

"I'm cooking." Vega replied tersely.

"Oh aye? Looks like yer shirkin' t' me, love. Codsy can manage that mess, c'mon." Cait seized her elbow, levering her up out of the snowy grass. "Now, what needs doin'?"

...

The day was a whirlwind of arrivals, preparations and well wishers. Elder Brandis even stopped by briefly, taking precious time away from his all-consuming duties to distribute some useful supplies and catch up on the gossip.

The Diamond City trio graced Sanctuary with their presence shortly before noon, Nat scurrying off to play with Duncan and Shaun while Piper made a beeline for Hancock's merry band. Nick was more keen to meander around the outskirts of the groups forming, amber eyes taking in his surroundings.

Preston appeared midafternoon with X6, Curie and the entire O'Brian clan in tow, later than expected but apparently they had stopped to help out a settlement along the way.

The cul-de-sac soon rang with the laughter of the rambunctious children; even little Siusan was permitted to briefly toddle about in the trampled snow under the watchful gaze of Eamon. The weather was chilly but the sun had broken through the clouds throughout the day, sending momentary waves of brilliance across the Commonwealth.

Every table and chair that could be salvaged had been assembled on the old foundation at the end of the cul-de-sac, and it was there that the adults began to gather as the sun set. Metal drums loaded with wood were lit, providing heat and illumination to the many guests of the Commonwealth's first official potluck dinner.

"Or rather," Piper amended, clearing her throat with a touch of self-importance as she tapped her notepad, "the first documented official potluck dinner."

The large tree twinkled and shone in the fast-approaching darkness, the occasional flicker or broken bulb doing little to diminish the cheer it provided. The food was distributed, Backhand's roast chicken disappearing without a hitch. The young woman couldn't help doing a mental dance of victory, delighted that Codsworth's quick thinking had saved that particular endeavor.

Vega found a place to sit somewhere in the middle of one of the many long tables, red from the praise of her companions and the persistent chill in the air. She got even redder when Preston loudly proclaimed a toast, to the General!, her lieutenant tipping his bottle and everyone else following suit.

"I remember when I first met the general, she was half-dead on her feet." Preston began the story, his smile fond. "Sturges couldn't even believe our luck. Hell, none of us could. When freedom called, our general answered!"

Backhand, who had lived the story and knew all the ins and outs, found her attention wandering to Danse while Preston regaled the crowd with his tale. The paladin seemed to be listening closely, his meal forgotten. Deacon even began to thieve bits of chicken and tato out from beneath his nose, the Railroad agent shooting Vega a sly wink over his sunglasses.

Backhand shook her head at the other man's antics, then focused her attention on Preston. "...'Lurk queen, a huge, mean seabug, taken out by landmines! The Castle was ours once again, and we all had General Vega to thank for it." The lieutenant stated firmly. "The one who can get things done in the Commonwealth, the one who gave folks hope when it was in mighty short supply. We uh, we owe you a lot, ma'am." He raised his bottle once more. "To General Vega, leader of the Minutemen!"

"To Elizabeth!" Hancock yelled, echoed by half the damn populace as Vega tried to wave it off, the young woman laughing awkwardly. "To our Sunshine, the hero of the Commonwealth!"

"Synth savior, a regular knight in shining armor." Deacon teased.

"Well done, General Vega." Danse said warmly, "I can't know for certain whether the Brotherhood itself would be proud, but I certainly am." His praise for whatever reason made Vega's blush feel like it would scorch her skin.

Oh she knew damn well why, she was just being willfully oblivious at this point.

"Speech! Speech! Is that not zee norm for zis sort of occasion?" Curie called, the diminutive synth currently sharing X6-88's coat as well as his plate of food. X6 didn't seem to have any reservations about the matter, his arm slung around her shoulders without a care in the world.

Much to Vega's chagrin, the majority appeared to be in favor of such a vocal endeavor. She attempted to laugh off the suggestion to no avail, and finally got to her feet. "Alright, alright, settle down. I'll say a few words if it'll get you all off my damn back." She grumbled, her body thoroughly warm now with a combination of embarrassment and gratitude. "I uh…"

Vega trailed off as she looked out over the ragtag gang of expectant faces staring back at her. So many friends and neighbors, finally getting the chance to breathe. The chance to celebrate the fruits of their labor...it was sobering.

"I can't thank you all enough for...well, for everything that you've done. You all sacrificed so much for this peace, stuff I could never imagine doing even before the bombs dropped." She cleared her throat. "My mentor, Sergeant Shaun Cathan, was a great man, and he often had some very succinct or choice words which I'm not about to repeat in polite company."

"Aw c'mon-!" Zeke began to protest loudly, his voice fading as he noticed the small gaggle of children still gawking at his power armor.

Backhand continued, her jaw set firmly, "but one thing I can say that he told me is this: a leader who permits their pride to impede their decisions is doomed to failure. Pride built the Institute, and that same pride rotted it to the core. Pride built the Brotherhood of Steel, the Minutemen, and we've seen the both of them nearly toppled." Vega clenched her fist. "Pride brought nuclear fire down on Boston, but people hauled themselves outta' the ashes of that fire. Good people, tough people. Folks I knew. Folks I cared for, even if some of 'em did spend a little too much time on the Cape. If pride can do so much effin' harm, I expect simple compassion and decency to do just as much good. Hell, more than that. Humanity's built itself back up after the cluster that was armageddon, and we ain't through yet."

She tipped the jar she had been drinking out of towards the crowd, sternly studying the collection of scavengers, families both new and familiar.

...

"So here's to you, my friends. To all that you've done, and to all that you will do."

Vega's salute was rigid, pre-war. Like her helmet on the table beside her, scraped and covered in faded sigils. The mixture of candlelight and the lights on the tree reflected off the worn lenses of her glasses, shielding her eyes from view. Danse wished desperately that he could see her eyes; more than anything he wished to stand up and flat-out state what she had done for him to every soul there, display his...admiration.

Was that even the right word? Admiration, adoration, affection--

His face was strangely warm all of a sudden. Danse flinched, staring down at his mug of coffee with single-minded intent as the buzz of conversation around him picked back up. His mind raced, pieces falling into place in a nigh-unstoppable rush.

Affection. Like...what he had felt for Cutler? Almost. A little to the left of that. Brighter.

Happier.

Not perfect, nothing could ever be perfect. But...

"Elizabeth Vega?" A male ghoul's voice barely penetrated the paladin's consciousness, his words not really registering until, "Beth, it really is you!" The ghoul exclaimed. "I thought I was crazy! It's me, Beth. It's Nate."

"...Nate?"

Danse's head whipped up so fast his neck popped in warning, the paladin having been only tangentially aware of the conversation happening mere feet away from his position. But at that particular nickname his entire being snapped to attention, eyes darting sidelong from where he had been intently studying his mug of coffee.

The ghoul man that Vega was currently speaking to was an inch or two taller than her, with a single tuft of dark hair that still remained over his left ear. He appeared absolutely delighted, but Vega seemed...wary.

"Beth," Danse heard him say once more, and he watched Backhand visibly tense. "I never thought I would see you again! After the bombs dropped--I mean how the hell did...is that Shaun? God, he got so big!"

"Nate, is there something I can do for you?"

Nate.

Danse's breath caught in his throat and his mouth went dry. Nate? Nate her ex-husband from before the war? Nate, the man who had divorced her once he found out she was pregnant with his child?

Somehow he had managed to survive?

Oh, what an incredibly bitter thing to think! Danse was somewhat startled by his own dark path of reasoning. But it wasn't untrue; his mind railed at the unfairness of it all.

The paladin stood up, his mug of coffee forgotten. He wasn't exactly certain what he was about to do, but he also wasn't going to do nothing. He cast around wildly for a plan as he approached Elizabeth from behind around the table, and Danse latched onto what was probably the least intelligent course of action that he could have conjured up.

"Elizabeth," the paladin called, loud enough to be heard over the general hubbub. She turned and Danse briefly spied a look of intense relief on her face before he enveloped her in his arms. "You appeared cold, figured I could warm you up a bit." He reasoned aloud, smiling benignly over her head at Nate. "Who's this?"

Vega began to introduce him even with her face still comically buried in Danse's chest, "Nate, I'd like you to meet-"

"Paladin Logan Danse, Northeastern chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel." Danse interrupted her smoothly, extending a hand to Nate. "I've heard a great deal about you, Nate. It's a privilege to meet you, and a welcome surprise to see that you endured the radiation."

"Uh, is it? Well I-I guess it is." Nate looked flummoxed and crestfallen all at once, glumly shaking Danse's hand. "I suppose you two are, er..."

"Vega is my partner, yes. For over a year now." Danse replied once the other man had trailed off, his tone saccharine-sweet. He heard Vega gasp against his chest. "She is a truly incredible woman. I'm immensely lucky."

"Yeah, I...yeah. Uh, I have to go...talk to--I'll see you later, Beth." Nate squeaked, sidestepping away from the two of them and making a beeline for the road.

"I can't even believe it." Backhand's voice grated with tangible irritation. "I cannot even fuckin' fathom--I...dammit, why him?!" She seethed into Danse's jacket, clenching her fists on his hips. "Phew, boy, I sort of thought I'd already dealt with all that resentment." The woman admitted unhappily.

"You do things in your own time." Danse replied quietly. "Are you alright?"

Vega went still for a second. Danse felt her unclench her fists, hands going slack on his body. Had he misspoken-?

"In my own time, huh?" Vega muttered, almost like she was thinking out loud. "I...I'll be back in a little while, Danse."

…

I'm not panicking. Definitely not panicking. One hundred percent not panicking, totally fine.

Backhand scurried away from the paladin, trying to hide the tell-tale redness of her face. She needed to find either Mrs. O'Brian or MacCready, fast.

As luck would have it, MacCready found her. The former merc tapped on her shoulder as she bounced up on her tiptoes to search for Mrs. O'Brian. "Hey boss, Shaun wanted me to ask you if he could sleep over with Duncan tonight." The man began after she whirled around to face him.

"Yes." Vega replied, perhaps a little too quick and definitely too enthusiastic. "Mac you're a lifesaver, I was just about to ask-"

"-for me and Cait to watch your kid so you and the tin can can get some alone time?" MacCready smirked, giving her a wink. "Dang General, I don't think I've ever seen you so red! Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

"Shut up, Mac, you're so exasperating." Backhand jabbed a teasing finger into the center of his chest. "You talk, Mayor, and I'll know." The threat was toothless; the both of them grinned at each other after their fierce staring contest. "Thanks for everything."

"Don't mention it. I figure getting you some Brotherhood...uh, Steel, heh, is a pretty decent way to make up for the fact that I didn't bring you a present." Mac shrugged, fiddling with the bill of his hat. "I have beef with the Capital Brotherhood, but these guys...I mean, they don't seem all bad." He allowed grudgingly, giving Vega a gentle nudge with his shoulder. "Go on."

A bracing shot of whiskey shored up her tenuous spark of confidence and Vega marched back to Danse, the large man now engaged in conversation with X6 while Shaun, Duncan, Bridget, Nat and Matthew swirled around their ankles.

Danse was saying, "--collateral ramifications would be inadvisable, I suggest a soft breach. With adequate preparation-"

"Adequate preparation on your part borders on over-caution." X6 interrupted him dismissively. "However, I will take it into account and speak with Preston on the matter. He seems to share your morality. A pity."

"Play at the unfeeling machine all you want, X6." Danse retorted. "It does you no favors. You have people who care about you now, and you would not have asked for my input if you believed the endeavour would be futile."

"True enough, Paladin." The vaguest hint of a smile tugged at X6's mouth. "You are capable."

"I suppose that is the best that I can hope for."

"Hey, Danse? Can I uh, have a little chat?" Backhand asked, stifling a hysterical giggle when Danse immediately looked guilty. The paladin nodded, bidding X6 farewell and attempting to sidestep around the children who were currently playing tag in an ever-tightening circle. "Not um, here though. Let's go to my house, okay? Shaun, you're all set to stay overnight with Duncan, Mac and Cait, right?"

"Yeah!" Shaun replied breathlessly, pausing in his chase to give his mother a massive grin. "Already brought my blankets over and everything. Mister MacCready said Duncan and I could sleep in their wagon, and that he'd tell us Grognak stories!"

Danse's brow furrowed. "We are leaving the gathering, then?" He asked, looking a bit distressed when Elizabeth nodded. "A moment, please." He turned back to the children, calling for Shaun.

The boy bolted away from the group, skidding in the muddy slush. "Yeah, Mister Danse?" He asked, his impatience plain.

"I, er. I...happy holidays." The paladin mumbled, extracting a small bundle from his jacket pocket and giving it to the child.

"Whoa, for me?!" Shaun practically crowed, tearing through the old newspaper to reveal the gift.

It was a sturdy carved vehicle, its edges sleek and smooth. The wood was coated in shiny green paint, giving the little truck a distinct air of newness in this post-apocalyptic world. Danse swallowed audibly as Shaun stared down at the toy without saying a word.

Backhand closed her eyes, hoping and praying that the kid remembered his manners. She hadn't even known Danse had planned on giving him something. Did he make the truck himself? It was wood, not the usual plastic or aluminum of pre-war children's toys. When had he found the time to make a toy? She suddenly remembered his uncharacteristically wide yawn that morning and her eyes flew open, darting to look at Danse. He had been staying up, hadn't he?

"I love it, Mister Danse!" Shaun interrupted her mental panic with his enthusiastic eruption, smiling wide and bolting forward to hug Danse around the waist. Danse's own relief was evident, the large man patting the child on the back with an awkward chuckle.

Oh Jesus, I'm not going to cry, Vega insisted, taking a deep breath. Nope, won't do it.

"Mom look, look what Mister Danse gave me!" Shaun exclaimed, as if she hadn't been standing right there the whole time.

"It's really cool, right?" Backhand grinned, rumpling his hair and then giving him a kiss on the forehead. "Make sure you wash your face and brush your teeth before bed, okay? I hope you and Duncan have fun. I love you."

"I love you too, Mom, I will. Thank you again, Mister Danse!" Shaun rushed to say, clearly eager to return to his friends.

"Alright, go on." Vega tapped the end of his nose, "go have fun." She watched him scramble through the slush, nearly tripping again. "Jesus, he's a bull in a china shop," she sighed, making Danse snort. "Shall we, Paladin?"

He fell into step beside her, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket and his back ramrod straight. He was silent until they were actually in Elizabeth's living room, the young woman barely able to shut the front door before he started babbling, "if I offended you earlier, if I-I overstepped my bounds, I apologize. I just recalled what you had said about the name he used for you and I'm afraid I started moving before I could reconsider-"

"Danse, do you remember how we started all of this?" Vega cut off what promised to be a downright incredible justification, cocking her head to the side. "How we met, and what happened?"

"You came to our aid at the Cambridge police station. Then you carried on assisting me with our mission. You helped acquire the deep range transmitter. You greased my armor." Danse paused, fidgeting. "You...said it was alright if I wanted to kiss you."

“It’s alright if you want to kiss me, you know.” Her smile was gentle. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Vega nodded, smiling once more. "The offer still stands, naturally."

"I...things are different now. I'm different. You still...even now, after everything that you know about me?"

"Of course."

"I didn't want to believe you felt that strongly about our...about us." Danse was smiling, actually smiling! "I'd given up hope a long time ago that I would ever be enough for anyone. I was never...enough. Smart enough, or strong enough or...well, just enough, I suppose." He shrugged, his smile fading. "With what happened between Maxson and I, and previously with Cutler…" The large man trailed off.

Vega took a deep breath, nodding furiously. "I do feel strongly for you. Danse, I know that this is a lot, b-but I...uh, I think I love you." She gestured up and down at the speechless paladin, feeling the heat that bloomed fresh on her cheeks. "Not just the wrapping, y'know, but uh. The whole package. You."

His look of shock and confusion slowly dissolved into something unreadable, and he broke eye contact for a moment to stare down at his boots.

"Uh, it's okay if you don't reciprocate! O-Or even if you can't reciprocate, I'm not going to be offended!" Elizabeth rushed to add, waving her hands nervously. "I know that this is a lot to dump on you all at once, I-I'm sorry. I don't want you feeling pressured to give me an affirmative answer just because you don't want to hurt my feelings or whatever."

"I...I can't say that I haven't thought about it." He admitted softly. "But Shaun, he needs--Vega, I'm not really human."

"Neither is Shaun, but I don't love him any less." Elizabeth replied. "Shaun is my son. For all intents and purposes, he is my real son, Danse."

"It's one thing to overlook it for a child, Vega. But I'm...what if something goes wrong with me? What if there's some sort of fault in my programming, and that's why I'm like this? What if-"

"It's alright if you don't want me, or even if this is too much right now. I know, it's a lot." Vega interrupted him, her heart sinking but determined to make damn sure he didn't feel pressured.

"Christ, that's not what I meant. I just want to make certain you know exactly what it is that you're agreeing to." Danse cut her off, his shoulders rigid like he was bracing for impact.

"I understand, Danse. I've understood for a while now." Elizabeth dared to rest her hand on his arm. "I want to be with you. I know that nothing in this shitshow of a future is guaranteed and I want to have something good in my life before my inevitable demise at the hands of some overconfident mole rat."

Danse nodded stiffly, and then grabbed her by the lapels of her canvas coat. Vega found herself abruptly pinned against the wall, Danse's mouth hungrily seeking her own. "You mean that?" He panted.

The brush of the stubble on his face reminded her of their first kiss in the Cambridge station and drove home the differences between he and Nate for the hundredth time. Nate was always clean-shaven, favored pecks on the cheek and lived saturated with cologne. But Danse was grizzled, earnest, reeking of the outdoors and power armor grease. Nate had been eloquent, while Danse was taciturn or tripped over his words. Nate was cold and calculating, and Danse…

Danse was fiery and raw, more vulnerable now than she could ever recall him being before. His knee nudged against her thigh and without conscious input, Elizabeth parted her legs for it and threw her arms around his neck to try to urge him even closer. "Yes, Danse," she gasped. "Oh, Jesus, yes, fuck-ing shit--"

She ground herself down against his leg, relieved that everything seemed to be functioning normally and somewhat impressed by her body's ability to mount such a rapid response after a two hundred-plus year dry spell!

"Language," Danse rumbled in reply, his hands tugging her heavy coat off of her shoulders. "Too fast?"

"No, hell no!" Backhand protested, "not fast enough."

"Shh," Danse rested his hands on her hips, shoving up her shirt slightly so he could touch bare skin. "I have you, Vega." Vega pushed herself excitedly into his grip, grinding on his thigh and arching her back. The way his breath hitched sent shockwaves to her core; the way he watched her...

"Danse we should...we should-" Vega's voice wavered as Danse laved her throat with tender kisses. "-should--bedroom, bed."

"Yes." The paladin growled, making no move to actually follow the direction. That is, until he hoisted her up to rest on his hips.

Backhand yelped, her thighs gripping his sides tightly. "H-Hey!"

Danse pressed his forehead to her own, brown eyes attempting to read her soul. "Elizabeth…" he sighed, his expression gone hopelessly soft. "I should warn you, if we...if you do this, I...listen, I can be a little--a little wordy, sometimes. If I am speaking too much-"

"Hey, no, you talk as much as you'd like, okay? Doesn't bug me at all." Vega assured him, slightly curious about what this might mean. Wordy?

"Elizabeth, you are everything that I never knew I was looking for." Danse murmured. "When I lost Cutler, I didn't think I deserved to be happy again. I assumed that my failure would continue to darken any future triumph, and when the majority of Gladius was...I feared that I was unfit for my rank. How could anyone have faith in my skills after such a catastrophic loss of life?"

"It's hard being the one making the choices. You have to be able to bear the burden of responsibility and also the burden of guilt." Vega reasoned, sympathizing with his plight.

"You had faith in me, though. You didn't even know me, but you didn't judge me for my inadequacy and you allowed me some damn peace. I'm just sorry you had to go through that abuse at Maxson's whim for my sake." Danse cupped her hand in his own, pressing kisses to her scarred knuckles. "You've already done so much for me, Vega. Let me undo you?" He offered seriously, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Well, I uh, I-I can't say I've ever been propositioned quite like that!" Backhand stuttered, certain that her flush covered her entire body at this point.

His laughter, heard so rarely, washed over her like a tidal wave. "Forgive me."

"Only if you keep asking me to have sex like that." Vega shifted her hand in his grip, intertwining their fingers. "C'mon, bedroom."

"It's not just that." Danse tried to protest, shaking his head. "I care about you. About your wellbeing. I want to make you happy."

"You do. So happy. I'm so glad that you're here with me still." Vega turned in the doorway of her room when he set her down, seizing Danse by the collar of his worn t-shirt and tugging him into her arms. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Danse."

"You don't know how much it means to me to hear you say that."

"It's the truth, though!" She insisted.

Danse surged forward, his kisses still rough and demanding as he fought to claim her affection. But she gave it freely, all he could ever want and more.

He stripped her of her shirt and dragged his own off over his head, chuckling at the way she greedily drank in the bare skin he presented. "See something you like, General?"

He was hairier than she was used to, but Backhand decided it suited him. Nate, after all, had been absolutely adamant that body hair was grotesque, and now look at him. He'd likely never have to worry about that again.

Thinking of Nate yet again put a frown on her face and Danse paused, giving her a quizzical look. "Is something amiss?"

"Oh! No, I'm sorry. I was just remembering. Nate was all…" Elizabeth gestured vaguely at Danse's chest. "He shaved everything. I'm not used to all...well, seeing so much."

"Is it off-putting? I assure you it's within the Brotherhood's hygiene guidelines, but if you don't like it I-"

"No, I love it. It's new. I've seen your arms, after all, I knew what I was getting into." Vega teased, grinning to ease his worry. "If you can accept all my stretch marks and leftovers, I can definitely handle your chest pelt."

"I'm planning on doing far more than accepting." Danse cradled her breasts in his palms, the paladin lowering his head to draw his tongue over one of her nipples. "I don't care." He soothed when Elizabeth tried to stammer out something else in regard to her stretch marks. "I don't care. It doesn't make you any less desirable to me, Elizabeth."

Vega squeezed her eyes shut, kissing his forehead as he continued to cautiously rouse her peaks until they were stiff and aching for more. Then his thumbs took over, stroking in slow, firm circles that made her quiver from head to toe. "You...you're really good at that." Elizabeth said faintly.

"I'm pleased you think so." Danse grunted when her fingers found his belt buckle. "It has been a significant amount of time for me as well, I...my excitement may be a bit obvious." He admitted, his smile sheepish.

Vega's breath caught in her throat, her hands trembling as she struggled to draw down the worn zipper of his jeans. The underside of his cock throbbed against her palm when she dared to slip her hand into his briefs, his skin searing and smooth.

Danse huffed out a breath, crumpling a little at her tentative touch. "Elizabeth," he groaned, hiding his face in her neck as he rolled his hips eagerly into her hand.

"Keep saying my name like that." She ordered, laughing when the paladin nodded rapidly into her shoulder. "I love you, Danse."

...

Danse rumbled again, words failing him while Elizabeth's fingers wrapped around his cock. This seemed like a dream, another one of his fantasies brought into being. He couldn't seem to do anything aside from stare down at her hand.

"Hey, Danse?"

He jerked to attention, eyes flying up to meet her own guiltily. "Y-Yes, Vega?" He stuttered.

"Do you...uh, y'know." Backhand fumbled to undo the button on her jeans. "You can, if you'd like." She finished awkwardly.

No sooner had she given him permission than Danse was pulling her hand out of his pants, urging her backwards onto her bed even as he kissed her battered knuckles again. "Yes." He grated out, kneeling to untie her boots so he could get her pants off. "Yes, yes, a thousand times yes."

"A for enthusiasm, big guy." Elizabeth teased, lazily fingercombing his short hair back. Her veneer of composure was shattered when the paladin eased her underwear down her legs, the young woman covering her face as if she was embarrassed. "Listen, just uh, go easy on me. It's been over two hundred years, after all." She reasoned weakly.

Danse swallowed hard. Cutler had always praised his dirty talk, the calculated way he could take apart a person with his words and touch alone. Maxson hadn't appreciated his speech, granted, but perhaps…

"You're saying you don't want me to bury my fingers in you, Elizabeth? You don't want me to open you up, work my way into that beautiful, flushed little cunt of yours?" Danse rasped, two fingers tracing lightly on her pubic mound. Her cesarean scar was faintly visible, and he felt a brief flare of concern before recalling that was indeed where the scar was from.

"Oh, Jesus. Okay." Vega gasped, blue eyes wide in what Danse could only assume was shock. "Keep that up and you won't have to worry about using anything else. Fuck, Danse, have some pity here." She pleaded, burying her hands in her hair.

"Language. Do you deserve my pity? How would you earn it?" The paladin queried, the heel of his hand applying steady pressure to her mound now.

"I can be good, Paladin! I can be really good. So good." Her breathless use of his title had Danse's cock pounding, though he tried not to make it obvious. "Please Danse, please touch me…"

Danse climbed up onto the bed alongside her, gently parting her labia with his fingers. "You'll be good for me, Elizabeth?" He asked, propping himself up with an elbow.

"Yes, please."

She had wonderful manners. Danse grazed her clit and her breath stuttered, the paladin spreading the liberal lubrication that she had already created with deft, slow strokes of his index. "Please, what?"

"P-Please...Danse."

He cautiously eased one finger into her, exhaling raggedly when her hand sought out his cock. "Vega-"

"Shh, let me." Elizabeth hushed him, her smile a little dreamy as Danse crooked his finger and rubbed in just the right spot. "Oh, f-uck, Paladin, you--"

"Language, Vega. Can't have you being a bad example while I'm knuckle deep in your cunt." Danse admonished, groaning when she whimpered. "You're so tight, this could take ages. We'll need to come up with some stretches to cope with this." He teased gruffly, sliding in another finger and spreading her open. "Mm, Elizabeth, you need to relax. Relax." He murmured, latching onto her breast.

He felt her pussy clench down around his fingers and he took a greedy suckle from her breast, making Vega cry out his name, "Danse!" She twitched and writhed under his deft attack, her thighs quivering even as she tried to spread them wider for him. Her hand fell still on his cock, not that Danse minded. It had always been more about his partner, he couldn't care less if nothing was done for him. Watching someone else fall apart because of him...now that was its own reward.

"What do I need to do to get you there, hmm?" Danse taunted playfully, tonguing sloppily over the peak of her breast. "What will it take, Elizabeth?"

She arched her back in response, pressing her breast firmly against his mouth, and Danse gently nibbled on the sensitive area she had offered up. Elizabeth sobbed out, shoving one hand down to her cunt to spread herself even wider for his plundering fingers. "More, Danse! Please please please-" she begged, her moan when he pressed a third finger into her absolutely enough to have Danse hurrying to talk himself down. "Yes, Danse." She was practically growling, her arousal something primal and untamed.

If Danse had his way, it would stay like that forever.

"What is it that you want, Vega?" His inquiry was almost lazy, three fingers stroking in and out with much less resistance now. "Hmm, I wonder if you're wet enough to take me."

"You can't just-" Vega made a noise of dismay. "That's not fair, Danse, that's not fair, you know it's not. Please, please fuck me."

Jesus. Danse almost choked on his own breath, letting his fingers slip out of her cunt. "How do you want me?" His voice broke noticeably. It felt like a lifetime since he had been desired, wanted in such a blatant and strangely pure fashion. She loved him. She wanted him inside her. Wanted him to make love to her. Wanted him.

The speed at which she flung herself up a little higher on the bed made Danse want to laugh, but then she was arching her back and looking over her shoulder at him and he suddenly forgot how to breathe for a moment. "This okay?" She panted, brown hair all tumbled around her face as she took off her glasses and pitched them in the general direction of her bedside table.

Danse nodded hurriedly, kicking his pants off. "If you need me to stop, just grab my hand." He instructed.

"This isn't exactly my first time getting fucked, Danse-"

"Language," the paladin reprimanded her with a chuckle, greedily fondling her rear as he mounted up behind her. "You have such a beautiful form, Vega." He murmured, leaning over to press a kiss between her shoulder blades. "An absolute vision."

"I do have nice tits."

Danse rolled his eyes, slipping his hands down to grope said breasts. She gasped out, rocking back against him as he agreed, "yes you do, that can't be denied. Soft, the perfect size, they fit in my hands so well, and so sensitive." He found himself laughing when she whimpered again. "Don't offer up all your weak spots unless you want them taken advantage of, Vega."

"The only thing I want to take advantage of right now is the raging hard-on I can feel." Elizabeth wriggled and Danse grunted, shuddering. "Pl-ease Danse, please put it in me."

The paladin slipped his cock between her labia, the hot, slick flesh pressing against him mercilessly as he teased her. He suddenly felt her fingers on his cock and then-

"Fuck." The paladin grated out the uncharacteristic curse through his teeth, his fists meeting the bedding on either side of her body as he fought the urge to thrust himself home in one breath.

Elizabeth half-collapsed while he slowly, slowly rutted into her, the woman panting and clawing at the blankets. "Mmmgod, Danse-" she slurred, sighing loudly. "So good, fuck, Danse…"

Danse toyed with her nipples, stupidly snarling "language," as she keened in reply. "I'll take care of you, Elizabeth. Be good for me." He pressed a kiss to her temple, smirking at the way her body quaked when he finally bottomed out in her. "That's it, look at you, taking all of me so well," he praised. "Now, how can I make you come?"

"Fu--Please use your big cock to get me off, oh please Danse!" She begged and Danse fondled her breasts yet again.

"You don't want me to touch you here, just like this?" He asked, stroking over her nipples and lingering to tease the area. "They're so hard, though, begging for my attention."

Backhand made a noise of despair, burying her face in her pillow.

"I think you need me to play with them, don't you? You like when I touch them like this." Danse muttered, thinking out loud and coming to that realization even as the words left his mouth. "What is it about it that you like?"

"S-Sensitive." Vega whimpered, "feels good."

Danse rumbled again, bending over to press his chest to her back so he could whisper in her ear, "does it feel good when I'm inside you, Elizabeth? Can you feel how hard I am for you? Feel how badly I need you?"

Elizabeth gifted him this pitiful sound, canting her hips and clenching down around his cock so tightly it took Danse's breath away. "Yes, I love it. I need you too, Danse." She murmured, shifting back and forth ever so slightly.

"Good. I'm glad." Danse took hold of her hips, seating his cock as deeply as he could in her cunt. Elizabeth whined, burying her face in her pillow again as he slowly began to make love to her.

Paladin Logan Danse, pride of the Brotherhood of Steel, had never been a man who took sex lightly. It was too important. Even after everything that had happened with Maxson, Danse still held to that belief. The display of vulnerability, the offer of power in exchange for pleasurable release, the brief moments of tenderness in an existence that was soul-crushingly difficult…

It was serious. It always was.

Vega's arms gave out and she slumped onto the bed, but Danse followed her down. Covering her with his body, the paladin thrust into her again and again, her soft whimpers and cries of his name music to his ears. "What do you need, sweetheart?" He asked raggedly when she began to squirm and arch back against him. "What can I give you, Elizabeth?"

"Fuck me, Danse!" She pleaded, turning her head to the side so she could see him.

"Language," Danse smiled, kissing her temple again. "But understood, ma'am."

…

For the first time since she'd awoken to an irradiated hellscape, Vega was wholly content to just lay down and be taken care of.

Danse was huge, proportionate to his already overgrown size, and he made the most incredible sounds when she inadvertently squeezed down on him. Groans burring in his chest like some untamed animal; he seemed content to just slowly fuck her into oblivion. Which was honestly more than she thought she would ever get.

Her fantasies, much as she'd believed they were wrong or silly at the time, didn't hold a candle to the reality of having Danse on top of her. She had gotten off more than once to this exact idea, being dominated and pinned by the massive paladin. This was a dream come true.

Elizabeth whined when he bottomed out in her again and just rutted himself back and forth slightly, making her feel every inch of his cock. The underside of his dick throbbed against the spot that made her see stars and then, the bastard, he slid his cock out of her cunt to press the head to her clit for a second. "Turn over for me?" He requested, punctuated by a gentle smack to her ass.

Vega rushed to obey, eager to have him back inside her as quickly as possible. The woman spread her legs wide so Danse could settle in between them and when the paladin did, he shifted upwards to kiss her tenderly.

"I've wanted this for so long." He admitted quietly.

"So have I!" Elizabeth replied in delight, her grin beaming. She was sure she looked like a mess, her hair stuck to her forehead with sweat and her face all flushed. But the way Danse was smiling at her…

She found she didn't really care about her appearance at this point in time.

"I love you." Danse murmured as he slid back inside her.

"I l-love you, Danse." Vega stuttered, the natural curvature of his cock applying steady pressure to her g-spot. "Make me feel so good, fuck."

"Language." He growled, making her laugh and then moan.

"Feels too good, brain can't cope." She gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck and tugging him closer until all he could do was grind down into her in a merciless manner. The motion flung her towards her peak, disconnecting her mouth even further from her brain and making her ramble into his ear, "God, I love you so much, make me feel so good--"

"I love you too, Elizabeth." He panted into the hollow of her throat, "you feel incredible. Outstanding."

Elizabeth wasn't sure how she could feel both so aroused she thought she might die and so annoyed that she wanted to explode. "Danse, did you just call my pussy outstanding?"

"It's not an incorrect statement, from my perspective. It's perfect. Wet and tight and hot." The paladin praised her freely, a hand lowering to apply gentle pressure over the scar on her lower stomach. "Beautiful."

I am not going to cry, Vega told herself sternly as she hid her face in Danse's neck. Definitely not going to cry, not going to.

A sob somehow escaped her as she came and Danse froze, his whole body flinching when her cunt clenched down on his dick. "V...Vega?" He asked tentatively.

"I'm fine! I'm fine, I promise, m'not hurt or anything. My brain is just dumb." Elizabeth hiccupped, rubbing her eyes. "I'm okay, Danse, I'm fine."

The paladin seemed uncertain and she couldn't blame him, she didn't seem fine even if she felt a thousand times better than she had in literal months.

"I swear I'm okay, that was just...it was really intense, y'know?" She mumbled awkwardly, unable to make eye contact anymore.

She felt Danse shift his weight and then he settled down on top of her, holding her close and tight. "You're sure?" He murmured, "if you're overwhelmed, that's entirely acceptable. I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"No, shit no, you feel incredible. I'm not going to be able to walk after this." Vega huffed, giggling a little when he rolled his eyes. "Keep going, okay? It feels fantastic."

"If you're certain." Danse acquiesced, kissing a hot trail down her neck when she nodded. "Let me know if you need me to stop."

Watching his forearms cord with muscle as he propped himself back up again, Vega's mouth went dry. "I have to say, this might be the best night of my life."

Danse pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead, the tenderness of the action a wonderful contrast to the needy way he sheathed his cock in her body once more. "I've thought about this." He confessed again, punctuated by a roll of his hips. "What you'd sound like, look like beneath me. You put my imagination to shame."

"What did I do in your dreams?" Backhand asked, unable to keep from breathlessly laughing when Danse hid his face in her neck. "So shy, Paladin! Even with that huge cock in me?"

"It's lewd, Elizabeth, I-I'm not proud of it." He mumbled. "Shouldn't have thought of you that way." He spread her legs wider, one hand on the back of each knee to urge her to bend.

"Mm, you thought about fucking me? Nice to know I'm not the only one with dirty thoughts."

"I did not." He protested staunchly. His cock slid back and forth between her pussy lips in a purposeful teasing motion. "I thought about how...I thought about how good it would feel to make love to you." He continued, his voice wavering slightly as his dick brushed her entrance and he plunged deep yet again. "Thought about how good I could make you feel."

Now it was Vega's turn to be shy, the woman looking away from him and flushing.

"It was still inappropriate at the...time, but I assure you it was never about that. I am not-" Danse struggled for a moment to find the words, before he sighed and rested his forehead against her own. "This already isn't simple, and I know I make it miles less so. Forgive me."

"I feel like it's pretty simple." Vega gasped, twitching as his fingers landed on her clit. "I f--fuck, Danse--I feel like it's real simple. You like me. Love me, yeah?"

"It's more than that, dammit." Danse growled, rubbing her clit in merciless circles. "What you did for me...how can I ever be worth your affection? Hell, your time?"

Elizabeth threw her head back, arching her entire body up into his chest. "Whatever good I give to you," she moaned, almost exasperated that they were even having this discussion, "you deserve it. Take it."

Danse's hands latched down on her hips, thumbs stroking back and forth over her pronounced stretch marks as he fucked into her so fiercely that Vega swore she saw stars. His pelvis ground against her own, body hair providing a delicious new sensation that had Vega grasping at the blankets in an effort to keep herself grounded. "I'm going to come, Elizabeth." Danse panted. "Where do you-"

"Inside." Backhand implored him, "come inside me, Paladin, please come inside me-" Her voice broke as she begged and Danse groaned loud, the sound incredulous.

"You...inside? Are you sure?" He asked through gritted teeth, dark brown eyes conveying his uncertainty. In reply, Vega dug the heels of her feet in beneath his rear, effectively locking him in place.

She caught a handful of his hair, gently tugging it until he leaned down again so she could seethe in his ear, "yes."

"Oh, dammit." With that wonderfully characteristic swear, Danse shoved his mouth against hers gracelessly. The heat in her belly spilled over from the onslaught of his enthusiastic thrusts and Backhand cried out, fingernails digging into his back when she came a second time.

Danse, either spurred on by her sounds or by the way her pussy gripped his dick (maybe a combination? Backhand mused) found his release seconds after, his voice breaking and dropping into a lower tone as he moaned her name. Her real name.

Elizabeth.

Vega cupped the nape of his neck, guiding his face into the hollow of her shoulder. "Lay down, sweetheart, you're shaking." She murmured, stroking over his quivering back.

"Don't want to flatten you." Danse rasped, his dick still throbbing inside her.

"Lay down. It's okay." Elizabeth flexed her bicep. "I'm strong, I can handle it." Danse laughed wearily, almost immediately going limp on top of her. She wrapped her arms back around him, fingers digging into the knots that she found to ease out the tension. "There, isn't that better?"

"Mmmmuch." Danse slurred into her neck, sounding exhausted. "Love you."

"I love you. Sleep, okay? We'll get cleaned up later. Right now though you seem like you could use a nap."

Danse nodded, the tangled mess of his hair mashed flat against her cheek in the process. "Want...to be a good parent." He mumbled several minutes later, just as Vega had thought he was dozing off. Danse propped himself up with one arm, cradling Vega's cheek in his palm. His thumb absently traced the cryo burn marks from the stasis as he continued, "a true partner for you. I don't know if you...if you even want me in that capacity, I--I don't know whether you would prefer that Shaun thinks of me as simply your friend, but I-"

"Danse," Elizabeth interrupted him sternly, raising an eyebrow. "Someone who's simply a friend wouldn't be balls deep in me."

Danse sputtered, his blush spreading down his neck to his chest. Despite his proclivity for dirty talk in the moment, he was endearingly embarrassed by her blunt words. Vega felt her heart pound as he floundered to collect himself, the large man looking away.

He's really nothing at all like Nate.

"Danse." Her voice was gentler this time, unmistakable affection bleeding through. "I would have to ask Shaun, of course, and I'd like to have an adjustment period before I do so that he can get comfortable with the idea on his own, but…" The young woman swallowed hard. Why was she so nervous all of a sudden? Oh sure, she could handle the vulnerability of being naked and fucked with absolute abandon but this? This was where her brain drew the line? Unbelievable, Backhand grumbled at herself. "I think the odds are in your favor." She concluded with a grin.

"You...even though I'm not-?"

"He's probably the last person to care about that kinda' stuff, Danse. C'mon." Vega chided, running her fingers through his sweaty hair. "Now. We are...absolutely disgusting. We need a bath big time."

"I...you're right, of course." Danse agreed absently, still seeming shocked at the whole scenario. "I should...w-we should bathe. Er, at the same time. To save water." He didn't meet her eyes, his attention focused somewhere by her left shoulder.

Elizabeth laughed, bumping their foreheads together before carefully scooting up the bed. His cock slipped out of her and she couldn't help her sigh, the noise echoed by the paladin who tilted his chin to catch her with a kiss.

"You are amazing." He breathed when they parted, his smile small but sincere. "I'm...I'll be hard-pressed to keep my hands off you, Elizabeth."

"Why bother?" Vega asked, chuckling as he ducked back in for another kiss.

...

Hours later, Danse laid awake while Elizabeth slept peacefully on his chest. The paladin stared up at the ceiling, his mind running rampant.

The future.

He hadn't really dared to think about it since discovering his true identity. Hadn't felt like it was something he deserved. After all, if he was just a machine, it hardly mattered. But Elizabeth…

She thought it mattered. She wanted him. Wanted him to stay with her. Wanted him to act as a father. Pending Shaun's approval, of course.

It was surreal how much his life had changed, how far they had come in such a short amount of time. Danse was a little overwhelmed by it all, if he was being honest. Scared, yet hopeful at the same time. And, he thought as he wrapped his arm around Elizabeth, incredibly, immensely grateful.

This new world was unforgiving, the universe coldly testing the mettle of a man time and again. But Danse had finally come out the other side, and he liked to think he had changed for the better.

Whatever the future held, they would face it together.

Ad Victoriam, General Vega. Thank you for having faith in me.

#fallout 4 #fallout four #paladin danse #paladin danse x sole survivor #paladin danse/sole survivor #paladin danse imagine #fallout fandom #fallout fanfic #slow burn #Eventual romance #The Happy Ending #that's right #paladin danse x f!sole #fo4 companions imagine #fo4 companions #epilogue #the gang's all here

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