#paladin danse x male sole survivor

[sweetcocopowder]

Three Christmas Nights | Paladin Danse / Nate (Male Sole Survivor)

Synopsis: Nate enjoys three Christmas's in the wasteland, all different, all held in different places. Yet his mind is always on one person despite his best efforts. And he wonders if said man can love someone has damaged as him.

Word Count: 7.5K

Genre: Sad, sappy yet heartfelt

Warnings: Depressive thoughts. Self loathing. Guilt. Pining. Alcoholism.

Note: I wish you all a Merry Christmas. There might not be any more posts other than my other Danse/Nate series for this yet. Only cause I've got the chapters ready from ao3. But other than that, happy holidays and a blessed new year.

The first Christmas Nate had spent in the Wasteland, a man out of time and place, it was high in the sky aboard the Prydwyn. Only newly under Paladin Danse’s wing and fresh into the Brotherhood, it felt more like home than anything else in this bazaar place. It was military, and Nate knew military. Knows guns. Knows the smells. Knows the way of command. So, despite finding Elder Maxson a little straight forward and with a few outlandish ideas of his own, Danse is what had him keeping around.

Being honest, Nate had hung up his dog tags along ago. Kept them hidden in the bedroom closet so he wouldn’t have to look at them. Nora adored them though. Found no shame in it, only pride that he had gone and fought for his country. Even though it had gotten them nowhere in the end.

Yet, the U.S military had survived and was transformed into the Brotherhood of Steel, changing and morphing into a being of its own over the past two centuries. With its own morals and beliefs, even though some have Nate cringing on the inside. He had learnt long ago to keep his dislikes on the inside and to shut up within military standards. It has cost him getting beaten and bruised through multiple training session with no sleep or water.

He had just hoped that Elder Maxson wouldn’t punish him too harshly if he stepped out of line. He stuck by the Paladin the most, hoping that hiding by his massive form he could keep in the good books. The Paladin had already written him off as an efficient man, willing to help and keep in order. He just hoped he could keep to that with all the chaos pinballing around in his head. So much had to be done in such a little time.

Which is why he was surprised that in such a strict and tight chain of command aboard the Prydwyn, Christmas was celebrated on the main deck. Nate had watched from the upper decks at first, wondering just how long this would go on for. Ingrim was nowhere to be found, and Knights and Initiates had taken over the power armour deck. Drinks were passed around, stuff that had been freshly brewed from a settlement close by that indulges itself in a small still. Supplies both the Brotherhood and Diamond City. The alcohol is meant to be used for wounds and supplied to Keagen. But they had gotten something a little extra, something infused with berries and other spices that the Wasteland still had to offer.

When the party had gone on for longer than an hour, Nate had become more so impressed. No sign of Elder Maxson or Lancer. With curiosity peaked, he had ventured down with a skip in his step to seek out either of the men. He wasn’t a tattle tale, god no. He just wanted to find out why. It wasn’t like Maxson, from what Nate had figured out with this man, he had thought that there wouldn’t be time for a party with the “Threat of the Institute still about.”

Who Nate had found instead in the canteen had been Paladin Danse, standing off to the side in his power armour watching everyone like a hawk. When he had spotted Nate, he had stood up straighter and his eyebrows had perked up. Something akin to a dog seeing their owner, but the survivor would never say such a thing out loud. He probably be told to run laps around the Boston Airport. Twice.

“I thought you’d be against all of this,” Nate had spoken up first, looping his fingers into the front of his belt.

He had swapped out his vault blue suit to an orange Brotherhood uniform by the Paladin’s command. He had said it would be the proper means of things to be wearing the orange instead of keeping to the old blue. Nate would have to admit, the Brotherhood uniform is much comfier than that tight vault suit. It liked to ride up in places that weren’t meant to be ridden up in.

Paladin Danse had shaken his head ever so slightly. “I convinced Elder Maxson it would be good for morale, in exchange I watch over this little get together,” he had said. “In case anyone decides to get too rough, I’ll step in. I’ve taken responsibility.”

Which had taken Nate completely off guard. Maybe he had taken the Paladin for a complete stick in the mud. A man that takes everything by the books and to the T. It had left him speechless for a good few seconds, having to collect himself with a small, shocked scoff.

“Well then,” Nate had started with a smirk. “I guess I can’t offer you a drink?”

And the offer had gone right over the Paladin’s head. “If I am to be on watch, I need to be sober and ready for anything.”

Nate had nodded with his bottom lip pouted out. Somehow, a man that likes to keep up morale against his Elder’s wishes but a man that won’t step out of line for said morale. What a gentleman.

“Enjoy your post, Paladin,” Nate had bid his fair well to enjoy the party at its fullest then, or the liquor for the most part.

Thus, Nate had drank himself drunk that night on the Prydwyn. He doesn’t remember much, just that the alcohol tasted like sour grapes and rotten apples. But he had drank it anyways, the need to get drunk the driving focus of the night. He didn’t want to think how far out of time he was. He didn’t want to think of how everything around him had changed so drastically. He didn’t want to think that his wife was dead. He didn’t want to think that everyone and everything he knew was gone. That his son was still missing. And that he had somehow ended back up with a gun in his hand and inside a rank with a purpose to kill.

The talking had gotten very loud at one point and the amount of alcohol slushing around in his gut wasn’t ideal. With a womble in his step, he had ventured down to the bottom decks of the Prydwyn with no recollection of how he had gotten there. All he remembered is curling up against one of the storage containers and calling it a night with the taste of rotten apples on his tongue.

He doesn’t remember how he had gotten back into his cot, yet he had woken up there. Tucked in like what his mum use to do for him when he was six. Not even his friends in college had taken him back to his dorm when they found him passed out drunk out in the middle of the football field. All they had done was take pictures and said pictures would be passed around for the next few weeks to have a good laugh at.

But, waking up hung over, filled to the brim with emotions and tucked into bed, it was the glass of water on the table next to the cot that had sent him over the edge. He hadn’t cried when he saw his wife dead in the vault. He hadn’t cried when he had seen his home in ruins. He hadn’t cried when he had to venture across the Commonwealth by foot to seek out his son. Hadn’t cried when he was almost eaten alive by a Deathclaw. But it was the thought that, maybe it isn’t all that bad here, that had the tears rolling down his face. That some bastard here actually cared.

He had cried under his blankets that morning like he did when he was six years old.

The second Christmas Nate had spent in this wasteland, a General of the Minuteman and now known as the sole survivor, was spent on the ground within the safety of the Castle walls. The Minutemen had grown vastly and graciously over the year with Nate’s help. Many settlements had joined the course to help other communities and keep themselves afloat in this dangerous wasteland. Sticking together and making sure your neighbour isn’t going to slit your throat was Nate’s biggest leading factor to take his role seriously for Preston.

He will have to admit, the mayor of Good Neighbour had inspired Nate a lot. Hancock had helped him find his way and set his foot back on the good little path with his own morales, even if the ghoul didn’t realize it. Nate can still remember his speech he had given his community, his people. It had made the survivor want to know the ghoul better. Find out what made the ghoul tick.

He had found out a lot more than jet and mentats.

But this snowy Christmas, he had spent it surrounded by people he had grown fond of, proud of even. Preston had stuck close by him that night, talked about his General in such a light that it had made Nate blush. He would have asked the handsome man to his bed, but guilt had sprung just as quickly to his chest along with many other mixed emotions he couldn’t of named for the life of him. He didn’t want to hurt the poor man’s heart by asking him for a one night stand with a man that would leave him in the morning. Preston is too good for Nate’s own selfishness for a little pleasure and leisure. Nate’s mind had wondered to the Prydwyn on the horizon and one resident upon her decks.

Would there be another get together this year? On the main deck with that rotten apple alcohol. Or maybe it tastes better this year and they’ve gotten their recipe right in the year that they’ve been using their stills. Would Danse be overlooking that party? Making sure no kid falls down the stairs drunk. Make sure that no one lets the mole rats out.

Maybe he never even convinced Maxson this year to let the kids have a get together for morale. Or maybe he did. Flashing those big brown eyes of his, he can almost get away with anything. He lacks charisma, but it’s his caring that makes up for it. Maybe those eyes of his hold some spell that he unknowingly casts over everyone that looks upon them. That one gets so lost in them that all you have to do is agree and nod and go along with Danse so that he doesn’t realize you haven’t been listening the entire time.

Or maybe that’s just Nate getting caught up in the trance that Danse has over him. Maybe he should hop and skip over to the Prydwyn, see what he’s up to this fine night.

He had gone to stand, gone to grab his gun to make the trip over to the airport. Had the determination of a mule to get through the snow and the raiders to get to the Prydwyn. But the only place he had gotten, was the cold Castle floor.

This time, he had woken up where he had fallen. The morning light had blinded him, his head already pounding with the fall and the left-over alcohol in his system. No glass of water. No soft cot to wake up to. No one had moved him, they all but lay a thin blanket over him and called it a night. Did no one ask why he had a gun in hand? Why he smelt stronger of whiskey than when he had left the party? Why he was dressed up in his General’s uniform to go somewhere than to sleep in his own bed?

His head had pounded too much to be caring about that so early in the day. With the little strength he had left, he had crawled back to his warm bed and fallen asleep to the sounds of the busy Castle around him. The lapping of the icy waves outside had lulled him to a deep sleep. One that took him to the late evening where a haze of a storm had begun to brew.

Preston had commented he had slept like the dead, woken by no one. Reminded Nate of his grandpa that died in his sleep for some reason in that moment. Such a morbid thing to think, yet it had come by so quickly that he didn’t have time to stop it.

He had died at the age of sixty-eight, just before Nate had been drafted for the war.  

The third Christmas Nate had spent in the Wasteland, now the known saviour of the Commonwealth, was celebrated up north in Sanctuary Hills with Danse by his side. No longer Paladin, the man had turned to the Minutemen for help a few months after finding out his true nature. A synth.

What a true kick in the teeth. To be raised and taught everything within the Brotherhood. To have your own morales be in line with the Brotherhood. To have such trust and admiration for your brothers and sisters, to only have it all taken away underneath his feet within a few seconds.

The data that Nate had pulled from the Institute had names and genetical signatures of every synth that they had let out into the wasteland. And Danse had been an identical match to M7-97.

Nate could recall the feeling of dread when Maxson had told him the news and all in the same breath, ordered him to execute Danse himself. That’s when he had seen the Brotherhood had a lost cause. That’s when he had taken Maxson’s orders with a sneer curling at his lips and left the Prydwyn with Haylen calling after him.

She didn’t have to convince him. He had already made up his mind that he was going to find Danse and protect him with all his might. Danse had done so much for Nate and to think that Maxson wanted him to be the one to put a bullet between those brown eyes. It made him sick. Sicker than that rotten apple liquor.

Nate had found him, pacing back and forth down inside Listening Post Bravo. Before the survivor could get a word out, Danse had called himself everything he had said ill about synths. All that hatred and loathing towards a race was now aimed at himself and his very being. Everything he was made to be, everything he thought he was, was now just made to be destroyed and thrown out like the inhumane trash he was. He saw himself as nothing, so quickly. It has scared Nate solid.

He hadn’t brought a gun with him. Had travelled all that way to Danse, all that way to across the wasteland to show he wasn’t there to kill. But Danse had a gun, off to the side already loaded. Nate had stared at it for far too long as Danse had rambled on. How he had to be the example not the exception.

“SHUT UP!”

It was out before he could stop it.

Danse had stared at him with those brown eyes of his. And that time, Nate didn’t see that solid determination he once held onto for support. That stern, stone cold look that still looked out into the world with care and admiration. All he saw was tears, brimming to those brown eyes that Danse was holding back with great effort. All he saw was a kid. Somewhere when Nate had been staring at the gun, Danse had gotten down on his knees only making the man look small. Small and defenceless.

Nate stills sees that image in his head from day to day. But that had been six months ago now.

Tonight, it’s all about how lively Sanctuary Hills is. It’s about the celebration of the destruction of the Institute. It’s about a new age for the Commonwealth that no one thought was even possible. Enough food has been prepared in advance that three Castles could survive on for weeks.

Snow had not yet arrived in the Commonwealth yet. A late one for Christmas this year but a chill in there air could be felt nevertheless. Everyone wears a scarf or an old beanie. Nate is just hoping to rely on the alcohol to stay warm tonight.

Dinner is served underneath the large, dead tree at the end of Nate’s old street. The branches are strung and lit up with old Christmas lights and ornaments that the children have made. It was Codsworth that had helped to put it all up. More than thrilled to help out around the place and to see the old block look festive once again. It had made Nate warm inside to see the old bot have at least some sort of nostalgia from the past.

So, Nate now stands in the middle of a vast group of people. All strangers to him but they all know him as well as if he sent them Christmas cards every year. A lot of handshakes. A lot of fake laughing. A lot of trying to remember names. And a lot of pats on the back that make him feel oddly numb. All this praise and all this, hope that Nate has given these people is… it doesn’t feel real. He’s spent over two years in the wastelands now and his hair has grown out to his shoulders, his beard freshly trimmed for the occasion. He looks like a different man than when he came out of the vault. A man that’s been shaped by the horrors of the wasteland.

He wears his General’s uniform, lacking the coat in favour of a scarf. He wanted to be as casual as possible but still people treat him like he’s some saint. Someone to be formal around and praise and… everything that Nate doesn’t feel like he is.

He had spotted Valentine and Piper around five minutes ago, but they had kept to the side lines. And Nate doesn’t blame them. The amount of people surrounding Nate is insane. He thought he saw Deacon before, but he doesn’t know if it was him or not in some disguise.

Yet, despite knowing that there’s people here that he’s travelled with, people he’s gone through thick and thin with his mind is only on one person. His dark blue eyes scan the crowd for one man in particular. Danse. He hasn’t seen him since earlier this evening. And he doesn’t know if Nate is avoiding Danse or if Danse is avoiding Nate. His mind is a jumble at the moment and there’s so many people shaking his hand!

The sound of glass being struck with a spoon quiets everyone. Nate looks up from smiling at a woman with his best fake smile and spots Hancock standing a top the dinner table. He minds the food being served out on it, being placed ready for people to sit down and dine. He holds a glass in his hand with a silver spoon in the other. He waits for the crowd to simmer down, a large grin on his face as his black eyes scan over everyone.

“Now,” Hancock’s raspy voice begins as he throws the silver spoon over his shoulder. “Tonight is a grand night! One filled with laughter, more than I have heard in a long time. I haven’t seen this many smiling faces since… ever! And it’s all because of one personal and his little Minutemen! Always there within a minute’s notice! Took down the Institute in less than a minute I think as well!”

A chorus of chuckles and snorts light up the night. Hancock chortles lightly to himself with a hand covering his mouth.

“Nate is who we owe it to! A man out of time! A man from the past! A man with an ambition to destroy the Institute for his son! To make the Commonwealth a safer place for the people! He is now of the people! One of us!”

Despite the praise and Hancock raising his glass to him, the thought alone of his son creates a deeper hole than what is there originally. All glasses are raised and cheers are exclaimed into the starry night sky. It’s a beautiful night. One that Nate barely notices as everyone sits down to dine. All around the tables that stretch around the tree.

He needs a drink. Desperately.

Nick Valentine sits across from him with Piper beside the detective. There’s food in front of them of all different varieties but Nate doesn’t touch a lick of it. Piper chatters of her work, on how she’s been reporting less synth activity that’s Institute related, on how the residents of Diamond City aren’t in constant fear and on how she might be out of the job now with no Institute. It’s all good news. Something that Nate would love to hear but, his mind wonders somewhere else. His eyes land upon the person he’s been looking for all night.

“There will always be danger in the Commonwealth, Piper,” the detective speaks up, “No doubt about that. We may have chopped the head off the snake but there’s still the body to deal with.”

Piper thinks on that for a moment before her face screws up. She gestures a hand towards Valentine, “That, doesn’t make any sense, Nick.”

“Ah well, you understand what I’m trying to say. There will always be some bad in this world no matter where you look,” Valentine states.

Piper hums on that. “Yeah, let’s not think too hard on that. It’s Christmas after all and a celebration at that!”

Nate only hears half of the conversation. His attention is on Danse, who sits far down the other side of the table. He can just see him peaking out from behind the tree trunk. He rarely sees him out of the power armour these days and let alone in civilian clothes. He wears a blue button up shirt that hugs his shoulders tightly. It looks good on him.

He’s currently stuck in a conversation with Curie. What an odd sight to see. It’s like so many worlds are crashing together tonight. So many people Nate has met coming together in one place and it’s, jarring. Nate can’t keep up.

Danse smiles softly at Curie as the other synth flails her arms about, most likely explaining something or going on one of her rambles. But it has Danse captivated all the same. Nate almost finds himself a little jealous. Jealous that he can’t see Danse’s smile up close. He barely smiles as is.

Nate wonders what the two synths are conversing about. Would Curie be going on a ramble about Christmas itself, explaining how it was celebrated before the war? Or would she be talking to Danse about his own worry about his identity. Would that be something Danse would be willing to talk about with a stranger? He’s never met Curie upon tonight. They seem to be getting along well though despite it all.

Curie lets out a loud chuckle that can be heard over the crowd. Nate’s heart swells at how mundane all of this is. No one is worrying about the horrors that lie outside of the safety of Sanctuary hills. What did Danse say that earned that reaction? He can be blunt at times but some of the things that come out of his mouth does earn a-

“Earth to Nate?”

A snap of fingers in front of his face as the survivor sitting up straight, his eyes bulging out of their sockets. He looks to the two in front of him, wondering just how long he’s been staring for. How long have they been trying to get his attention?

“You staring at big boy or the pretty lady over there?” Valentine asks as he gestures over his shoulder, a cigarette in hand.

Piper tsks. “It’ll be the big boy.”

“What!?” Nate exclaims as if he’s been caught with his hand inside the cookie jar.

The reporter raises her brows at that. “When are you going to make a move on him, Nate? I’m not all for the soldier type but I can’t help but feel sorry for him. Pining over you that can’t charm a brick wall.”

The survivor stares at Piper with wide eyes, his mouth slightly agape. He doesn’t know how to answer. Hasn’t even realize that anyone around him has taken any notice to his own pining.

“I’ve seen how you follow him around like a lost pup sometimes. And he does the same, following you around, wondering where you are,” Piper goes on.

“I-“ Nate stutters. “A brick wall? Come on, Piper I’m better than that.”

Piper laughs at that, throwing her head back and laughing. “The last time I saw you try and charm some poor woman it landed us in a feral ghoul pit.”

Nate sits up straight at that. “She was impossible! You saw how she was!”

Piper only laughs harder at that. Nate sulks to himself with his chin in his palm. He glances to Valentine who’s fully turned in his seat to get a good look at Danse. He’s only met the ex-Paladin once or twice. Both times weren’t all that pleasant with Danse’s dislike towards synths. But now there’s a sort of sympathy towards Danse that Nate has noticed. The gruff, closed off wall that Valentine had put up has been lowered in case Danse ever wants to… talk.

Nate huffs as hair falls in front of his face. He spies a bottle of vodka near him and his fingers instinctively inch towards it. He shouldn’t really but he knows he’s too sober right now. It’s a bad habit but it’s a habit that lessons the pain. His fingers grip around the neck of the bottle and he sits up straighter, looking around for a glass.

Valentine places a glass in front of him. Nate looks to him silently, slowly grabbing it to pour himself a shot of vodka. It’ll warm him up. And make his racing thoughts become a haze.  

“Look,” Piper chirps up again. “I’m not saying it’s bad. You don’t need to get so caught up in liking men if that’s the issue.”

Nate is midway through taking his shot when Piper speaks and said vodka is shot back up into the glass. He chokes loudly, covering his mouth as he can feel vodka burning the insides of his air ways. Not the place that alcohol should be. Some people around him glance at him, asking if he’s okay. Valentine assures them with a raises hand and kind words.

“Piper,” Valentine clears his throat. “I don’t think that’s the issue here.”

Nate clears his throat, his inside still stinging in the worst ways possible. He pours himself a shot to help with the pain. And it burns on the way down.

The survivor gestures the glass towards Piper before pouring himself another drink. “You ever fall in love with someone that’s just as broken as yourself?”

The questions take both Valentine and Piper off guard. The reporter glances towards Valentine but his concerned attention is kept on Nate. He’s silent for a moment, flicking cigarette ash to the floor before leaning closer to the table.

“I can’t say that I have,” Nick answers slowly.

Nate takes back another shot with a flick of his head. “What if you both get hurt?” He asks even though he’s not expecting an answer.

He doesn’t know it himself and he should know the answer to everything. Because he’s the General to the Minutemen. He’s a fucking Paladin in the Brotherhood of Steel. He’s an agent of the Railroad. Could have been the leader of the Institute.

He’s never told anyone that. And the thought of telling anyone makes his body lock up. His mouth clamp up tight. Who would he even tell!?

Another shot burns down his throat.

“What if you both heal?”

Valentine’s question hits a nerve within Nate. One that makes him look to Danse behind the detective with a sombre, tipsy expression. Could Nate help Danse? Could Danse help Nate?

A hand covers and squeezes his own, bringing his attention back to Piper. She looks to him with a new found sadness, like some kicked pup. The conversation quickly took a dreary tone all because of Nate’s lonesome pining and dreadful aura. He meets Piper’s gaze and he wonders what she sees. Does she see a hero? A legend that is as grand as all the stories told around the campfire? Or does she see a man. A simple man trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. A man from the past that’s trying to figure out where he belongs. A tired man that just needs some rest.

He breathes slowly, his body suddenly feeling very weighed down.

“It’s a celebration,” Piper says softly. “You should celebrate. Ask Danse for a-“ she chuckles at herself. “Ask him for a dance or something romantic instead of drinking yourself into a puddle. The future is brighter because of you and Danse is alive and sitting over there.”

As if on que, the harsh, bark of a laugh catches Nate’s ears. Danse’s rare laugh that he doesn’t hear often. He swears he feels his heart skip a beat. A genuine laugh. He looks over once again, past the two to see Preston has now joined in on the conversation with Curie and Danse. He hovers over Danse’s shoulder with a wide smile across his lips. It looks good on the young man. He’s needed this more than anyone. A break. A laugh.

Maybe Nate should stop being a sulk and actually enjoy the party. Maybe he should-

“Tiger,” Valentine ushers. “It’s only one night. What’s the harm in asking. It’s almost making me sad seeing you like this. Hey, I’ll go over there and ask him if you don’t any time soon. It’s killing me.”,

Nate licks his lips and suddenly stands, his hand still gripped around the neck of the vodka bottle. He feels so many eyes turn to him and he instinctively shrinks away, visibly wincing.

“Just uh-“ He can’t think licking his lips again. “I just need a moment is all. I’m sorry.”

With that, he wonders away from the party with the bottle still in hand. He doesn’t know where he’s headed. He just needs to get away from the noise. The chatter. The poking and the prodding. He knows he should just man up and ask Danse to do something instead of avoiding him. Who is he to ask him to live when he just ignores him like this!?

He runs a hand over his face before taking a swig straight of the bottle. He hisses as it burns but it feels good all the same. It’s what he needs. He needs the haze it brings over his mind. He just, doesn’t want to think. Not right now. Not when there’s everyone reminding him of all the good deeds he’s done.

Did he do them out of the kindness of his heart? Or because they’d put him one step closer to his son? Was it all for personal gain?

No. No it wasn’t.

Maybe. Maybe it was. Maybe he saved Danse from himself so that Nate wouldn’t have to live without a man that knows the struggle of war. He will admit that the man hasn’t seen true war, not like Anchorage but he’s seen it. Knows the loss and bloodshed of it. Maybe that’s why Nate clings to him like a life support. Cause he’s seen it all. Or maybe it’s the way that Danse cares and always puts others before himself. Is willing to lay his life down for a greater good. And he had.

He had laid down and waited for the bullet thinking it was for the greater good. Yet, despite his own self loathing here he is tonight laughing and conversating with people that Nate would have never imagined if he had remained with the Brotherhood. Maybe it was for the greater good that Danse’s true nature was shown to him.

Now is that selfish of Nate to think? That’s it’s better that Danse knows and struggles with his own identity instead of being blinded by an outlandish code so he would feel some comfortability in life. Danse has to start anew. Start from the ground up because everything he knew was ripped away to never be seen or grasped again. All because Nate walked into his life. Would they have found a way into the Institute if it wasn’t for Nate’s bull like drive? Maybe they’d still be twiddling their thumbs.

Nate lands on his knees heavily as he sinks low in front of his old closet. He doesn’t remember entering his old house. He doesn’t even remember turning down the street.

He rummages around, searching for one thing. One thing he had buried in here to never look at again and-

Slowly, Nate pulls out his old, rusted dog tags. The once shiny metal is now dull, the edges being eaten by rust, but his name and number can still be read clear as day. He hasn’t seen these in such a long time. He doesn’t even know why he’s pulled these out now. Come searching for them. Maybe for some solid proof that he was here. That his past life wasn’t all some sick and twisted dream that the Institute made up for him.

He sits back against the nearest wall as he holds his dog tags in one hand and the bottle in the other. Breathing in heavily, he listens to the murmur of people outside. He spies out the window, seeing the Christmas lights lighting up the settlement. It would bring a smile to his face, but it only makes him think of how the neighbour use to look like during Christmas.

Nate takes another, long swill of his bottle.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, but he knows that he passes out shortly after the bottle is drained empty of it’s sickly liquid. Nate clutches his tags close to his chest as he lays on his side, his dreams filled with a time long before.

He’s half between worlds when he hears the heavy fall of boots come down the hallway. He pries his eyes open, looking through his eyelashes as he peers into the dark, paint peeled room of his own. The room spins and he feels like he’s sinking into the floor where he lays, his cheek smooshed into the old crusty carpet. He doesn’t see who’s come into the room until a glass of water is place right in front of his nose.

A glass of water.

Nate swallows thickly, his eyes opening fully now as he looks up to meet the sight of Danse kneeling in front of him. It’s as if he suddenly sobers up, finding the will to sit up straight which is a big mistake in itself. His head swims and he quickly grabs at his head with a groan.

“Easy there,” Danse’s voice is soft, almost too soft.

A large hand cups Nate’s head to hold him still as the cup of water is brought to his lips. Nate almost refuses at first but the look on Danse’s face has him sipping down the water.

So, it was Danse who carried him to his cot in the Prydwyn. Would he have done this if Nate had been awake? Would he have cradled his face like this to make sure he sobered up on water? The thought makes his gut swim and he doesn’t know if it’s the man in front of him or his stomach mixing and churning with vodka and water.

The glass leaves Nate’s lips along with the hand on his face. He almost finds himself whining for it to stay but he stops short.

“I would ask you why you left but I don’t think a sad drunk agrees with loud and cheerful crowds,” Danse comments bluntly but there’s a tinge of light heartedness to it that Nate hears.

He wouldn’t of been able to point it out when they had first met. Everything that came from Danse’s mouth was blunt and short. But Nate had listened. Picked up the quirks of each sentence that passed from the ex-Paladin’s lips to figure out what he actually means. Find the hidden emotion that he tries oh so desperately to hide.

“A sad drunk?” Nate asks with a tilt of his head.

“Affirmative,” Danse quirks.

“Huh,” Nate scoffs. “I didn’t want to bring down the party, so I decided to start one on my own. Can’t you see I’m having a blast?”

Danse does the dramatic honour of looking around the room as if someone else is going to pop out. But when he sees no one else, he looks back to the survivor with a tilt of his head.

“A very lively party,” he says with as much sarcasm as he can muster. Which isn’t a lot. It sounds more like an insult than anything else.

Nate snorts through his nose.

“I came by to make sure you’re alright,” Danse says as he stands up straight. Nate’s chest squeezes at the sudden realization that he could be left again. “I should be getting back to the party. I’ll tell everyone you’re oka-”

“Stay.”

It’s out of Nate’s mouth before he can even think. He quickly clears his throat.

“Only if you wanna stick by a two-hundred-year-old man. I’ve been told I look good for my age,” he softly chuckles at his own joke.

Danse looks down at him silently with a small rising smirk on his lips. The few passing seconds feel like an eternity to Nate as he stares up at the other man with pleading eyes. It must work, that puppy dog eyed look Nate has perfected so well, or may he does just look like a sad drunk because Danse sits down right next to him with his back to the wall.

“You could go back out there,” Danse comments. “You’re the reason why everyone is here today.”

Nate looks to the other sadly. He looks a little too long at how the red and green lights from outside flicker and dance across the other’s face, making his dark brown eyes all that softer.

He licks his lips, looking away. “Why? Everyone has at least thanked me five times for my good deeds. You’d think I’m some kind of angel that has come from the heavens!”

“You shouldn’t put yourself in such a hole,” Danse says firmly. “I’ve seen men do less than you have be raised to Paladin. All they did past that is gloat on how grand and great they are to the lower ranks and roll in the praises they get. I don’t understand why you see yourself as something as low as the bottom of a bottle when you’ve made a future for the next generation of children.”

Nate swallows thickly, his chest squeezing tightly. He says his mind out loud before he even knows it. Before he can put a lid on it to stop the chaos from escaping.

“I put myself in this hole ‘cause I couldn’t even save my own kid,” He spits it, snaps it even to make Danse shut up. To stop making him sound like such a hero. And Danse does. He falls silent, watching Nate intently.

“I found him. I found my son in the Institute. But-” Nate’s voice hics. God he’s going to cry. “I was sixty years too fucking late. He was older than me. Had more grey hairs than me! God the way he spoke to me it was- I-“

Nate swallows his own words. He can’t say it. He shouldn’t say it. Not out loud. How would someone react hearing Nate say that he fucking hated his own son after searching high and low for him. After everything he had been through had been for nothing. He had found a way into the one place that didn’t have a front door and had only found his son running the place that had caused so much pain in the Commonwealth.

“I left him there, Danse.”

He doesn’t want to look at the other man. Doesn’t want to see what horror struck expression that has come across his face. But he looks. He looks and only sees… pity. A sadness and concern that Nate has seen so many times from the nurses when he was in the army.

“That wasn’t your son,” Danse suddenly says. “You didn’t raise him. Didn’t know him. That man was a stranger that had your son’s face.”

Nate swallows thickly, holding back the choke of a sob rising within his throat. Shaun died with Nora in that god forsaken vault. And out stepped Nate. A man from the past that had no idea what was going on nor what year he was in. Maybe he should have died with the rest. Maybe Nora would have had a better out look on a world such as this.

Nate finds himself staring at Danse. He doesn’t know how to respond. He’s never thought to put it into that perspective. Those dark brown eyes put him into one of those trances he can’t look away from.

“Ridding the Commonwealth of the disease festering underneath it’s skin, you saved everyone. You may have lost your family, but you’ve found one. You have one here with the people out there celebrating an old tradition that has probably not been celebrated like this in a long time. You’ve made people smile again, Nate,” Danse speaks softly yet his voice stills holds that same soldier like sternness to it that won’t ever go away.

“You’ve made me smile again.”

Yet, the way Danse speaks that last line it takes the survivor’s breath away. And just like that, the smile that Nate loves so much spreads across the other man’s face. It crinkles at his eyes and shows his little fangs he has.

The next thing that Nate does, he’d call himself stupid for it. He leans forward towards Danse, hesitating only a moment when his lips are a hair’s breath away from the ex-Paladin’s to see if he’ll pull away, to see if it’ll push Nate away for his stupidity. But when he doesn’t move, looking to Nate through his lashes and his mouth now lightly parted as if waiting, Nate moves forward that extra bit to kiss Danse’s soft lips. Only light like, a small peck that lasts a little too long before Nate can have a taste. He pulls away and looks into those brown eyes that stare directly back.

“I’m sorry there wasn’t any mistletoe, I jumped the gun,” Nate says as he leans away.

But Danse grabs him by the front of the shirt, almost rough like to drag him back into a much rougher kiss. One that Danse leads like he’s done this before, kissing and tasting Nate’s lips as if he can’t get enough of him. The survivor melts into Danse’s touch as the ex-Paladin places a hand on his waist to steady him.

Maybe everything will be alright. Maybe this Christmas will be a merry one after all. The warmth of Danse is enough to lull him into a mindless wake. He lets Danse kiss him the way he wants, lets him taste him as much as he wants. If only Danse could feel just how much Nate has wanted this for so long. His chest aches painfully even though he now has it within his grasp.

It’s better than alcohol. His mind melts and he forgets everything for the moment. All his worries. Everything he’s been through. Because he knows, in his heart he knows that there are arms he can lean on. That there will be someone there to catch him if he falls. Someone that will watch over him when he’s in a hole of his own making. To offer him water when he’s in need. And there has been arms to lean on for a good while now. Ever since he heard the distress call over his pip-boy.

Nate hums as Danse ventures down his jaw to his neck, holding onto the ex-Paladin and not letting go. He breathes heavily, his eyes a daze as he stares out the window. Snow falls softly and he doesn’t register it at first but, he chuckles softly at seeing the flakes. He doesn’t have to think too much about it though as Danse engulfs his mouth in another feverish kiss. He wonders instead how long the ex-Paladin has been wanting this. Yearning for it. How much he’s ached for Nate.

He’d love to find out. And they have the rest of the night to do so. He holds onto Danse and doesn’t let go. Doesn’t think he even wants to. He’s got Danse and that’s the best Christmas gift he could ever ask for.

-

Like, comment and reblog or whatever

[comradeacerbus]

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

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

I would love some opinions

[iliumheightnights]

Sanctuary | Danse x Male!Sole Survivor

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sanctuary! Have to drop off something!"

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

"Thanks Donick!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well...yes."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Even better news. Thanks Preston."

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

"Starlight?"

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

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

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

"How did you do this?"

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

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

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

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

[kb1301]

The Shipping Board

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

Destiny 2

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

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

Saint-14 x Maximus-12

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

Lord Shaxx x Saint-14 (I need more of these two Titans together)

MaxCayde / Cayde-6 x Maximus-12 (Canon within the main universe for my Warlock but never fully became fruitful)

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

Tataaks / Misraaks x Tatag-9 (Main and canon ship for my Exo Titan, loyal Guardian to his Kell)

ShiroTag / Shiro-4 x Tatag-9 (I think having a mostly no-nonsense Hunter be in my Exo Titan’s life would be something)

Candal / Cayde-6 x Andal Brask

Felshaxx / Shaxxwinter / Lord Shaxx x Lord Felwinter

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

O14 x Shaxx12 (the fantasy foursome for Max / my headcanon polyamory where they're all husbands)

Call of Duty

Ghostsoap / Soapghost / Ghoap (Original and Reboot)

Korangi / König x Horangi

Ghostkonig / Ghost x König

Kruegernikto

Ghostsoaproach / Ghost x Soap x Roach

Gazprice / Pricegaz

Nikprice

Alerudy

Walruss / Keegan x Logan

Baldur's Gate 3

Gale x Tav/Durge

Shadowheart x Tav/Durge

Karlach x Tav/Durge

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

Shadowlach / Shadowheart x Karlach

Bladeweave / Gale x Wyll

Bloodweave / Gale x Astarion

Bloodpact / Bloodblade / Wyll x Astarion

Durgetash (my preference though is default Durge)

Fallout

Craig Boone x Male Courier

Charon x Male Lone Wanderer

Paladin Danse x Male Sole Survivor

Ghoulcy / Vaultghoul / Lucy MacLean x The Ghoul

Maximus x Thaddeus

Elder Scrolls

Teldryn Sero x Male Dragonborn

Razum-dar x Male Vestige (mostly Khajiit)

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

Mass Effect

Shakarian & MShakarian

Sheptali (both Shepards!!!)

Shiara (both Shepards!!!)

Shenko & MShenko

Shepard x Jack

Shawson

Dragon Age

Alistair x the Warden

Leliana x the Warden

Morrigan x the Warden

Zevran x the Warden

Handers / Hawke x Anders

Fenhawke / Hawke x Fenris

Isabela x Hawke

Fenders / Fenris x Anders

Cullistair / Cullen x Alistair

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

Transformers (Any Continuity)

Wavewave

Megop

Optiratch

Soundop

Shockop

Dratchet

Dimension 20

Theopin / Theobald Gumbar x Lapin Cadbury

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

Inkblade / Oisin Hakinvar x Adaine Abernant

Figayda / Figueroth Faeth x Ayda Aguefort

Other Fandoms

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

Kapglaz / Glazkan / Kapkan x Glaz (Rainbow Six Siege)

Liondoc / Doclion / Lion x Doc (Rainbow Six Siege)

Poolverine / Deadclaws / Deadpool x Wolverine (Marvel)

Spideypool / Spiderman x Deadpool (Marvel)

Gabv1el / Gabriel x V1 (Ultrakill)

Minosgabe / Minos Prime x Gabriel (Ultrakill)

[watchyourdigits]

Falloutober Day One:

War Never Changes

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

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: mild sexual language, canon typical violence

Ship: Paldadin Danse x male Sole Survivor

"What's the plan here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Typical.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There it is. Damn… Audacious prick.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Danse sounded amused, much to Frankie's dismay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, nothin's changed a lick.

[ao3-diablofic]

by Kosho

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

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

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

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

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M, M/M

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

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

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

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

[nautseverywhere]

And one of my Christian.

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

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

[butterdoggo13]

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

[sweetcocopowder]

Pitch Black Dahlias | PT. 1 | PT.2

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

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

Hopefully.

Word Count: 2.2K

Pairing: Paladin Danse x Nate (Male Sole Survivor)

Warnings: Slow Burn. Trauma. Eventual Smut.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anyways.

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

“Danse.”

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

“Valentine,” he responds back blandly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Danse swallows thickly. “It was all him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I only just arrived here,” Danse states.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[comradeacerbus]

CHAPTER 25 LETS GOOOOOO

[kagebros]

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

・commission info・  

[iliumheightnights]

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

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

[dalishkadan]

some goodness with paladin danse <.<

[watchyourdigits]

Falloutober Day Two:

Neon

I'm slowly catching up on these lol

This isn't a re-write like day one was, but I'm keeping with the theme of it being Frankie-centric. It's one of those in-between moments. The inspiration is Danse's fascination with Frankie's Pip Boy, which was only briefly mentioned in the main fic. Enjoy~

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: mild sexual language, canon typical violence

Ship: Paladin Danse x male Sole Survivor

Frankie wasn't oblivious to the way Danse would watch as he entered coordinates into his Pip Boy. He'd frequently catch him staring, even more so as time went on.

At first he didn't seem to trust the device on Frankie's wrist. It was understandable, a natural reaction to that which one didn't fully comprehend. Lately, Danse seemed more fascinated by it than anything. The shift in opinion only came after Frankie had shown him that it was a useful navigational tool.

Danse didn't realize Frankie was aware of his observations of him. The gas mask served him well in that sense. Frankie would make a point to subtly turn his arm so he could watch from afar whenever Danse would shoot curious looks his way.

He never got too close. This bothered Frankie more than he cared to admit. He was more than willing to show him how the Pip Boy worked, but Danse was never keen on asking, and Frankie was too proud to offer.

The more they worked together, the more Frankie became accustomed to who Danse was as a person, odd habits and all. In fact, he actually found himself growing fond of the Paladin. It certainly helped that he'd been laying off on the critical nitpicking.

Danse was meticulous in everything he did and Frankie would be lying if he, too, didn't give his fair share of stolen glances whenever he'd find him working on his power armor during the quieter moments that preceded sleep.

Frankie wanted to ask him more about it; he hadn't been in the division that had utilized power armor during the Great War. It had fascinated him, though only up until he'd nearly been killed in Concord his first day in the Commonwealth.

Frankie didn't think he'd ever forget the claustrophobia of the deathclaw's massive foot pressing down on his chest, nearly caving his ribs in as it ripped the helmet clean off. If he ever did, all he had to do was look in the mirror to be reminded of it.

Still, seeing Danse work sparked the flame of his curiosity again.

There was a particularly bad storm raging outside on the day Frankie finally approached him on a whim. They were hunkered down in a series of interconnected buildings they'd cleared of ferals. Danse boarded up the doors with scrap Frankie had collected, both in agreement to wait out the torrential downpour.

Frankie had cleansed himself of the battle and was about to fetch Danse for him to take his turn scrubbing off in the privacy of the upper levels. It wasn't quite a shower, but neither of them were strangers to having to make do.

The power armor stood under the high ceilings of what used to be a dining room. Danse's uniform was unzipped halfway, pulled down to his hips, where he'd tied it loosely to keep it from getting in the way. Beside that, he only wore a stained undershirt that left little to the imagination.

Talk about violating uniform code. Holy fuck. He's built like a goddamned Plummer bull. Bet he bucks real good, too…

Frankie leaned against the doorway for a minute or two, ogling Danse's broad back as he tinkered with the metal plating.

"Those things have a Geiger counter built in, right?" Frankie blurted.

His mouth was great at taking the reins whenever before his mind could think better of it. It was both a blessing and a curse, given that damn near half the shit he said left him wondering why the hell he'd even said it in the first place.

This was one of those times because, right up until he'd spoken, he probably had the chance to sneak back upstairs for some time to himself.

Danse turned slightly, looking up at him. He hadn't been startled or even at all surprised that he was there. Maybe it had been too late anyway, or so he told himself. Some solace was better than none.

Frankie peeled himself off the door frame and sauntered further into the room, pulling over a chair and straddling it as he continued to watch, closer now. Danse didn't continue his work. He instead focused on Frankie's movements.

"Affirmative," he finally replied, only once Frankie had settled.

Frankie watched as he pulled a rag from where he'd tucked it into the knotted arms of his uniform. Danse wiped his hands off, his expression unchanged at the decision to sit by him.

"If you ever need the current radiation levels, you can always inquire."

Frankie snorted, lifting his arm to show off the device strapped to his wrist.

"Naw, I've got a Geiger too."

Danse's jaw twitched, his eyes flickering to the Pip Boy, then back to Frankie's covered face.

"A navigational system and a Geiger counter? What else could that model possibly be capable of?"

It was almost a real question, but there was a hint of disapproval, too, with a little sarcasm to tie the sentiment together neatly.

If he understood the technology, maybe he wouldn't be so weird about it…

Frankie decided to take the risk. He wanted to know more about the power armor, but that could wait.

"Shoot, a hell of a lot actually… You want me to show ya?"

Danse's eyes lit up, enough that Frankie could tell he had him reeled in, his innate thirst for knowledge winning out over his concerns.

If there was one thing he appreciated about Danse, it was his inability to mask how he was truly feeling.

"I… do have a few questions about its functionality…" Danse said hesitantly, almost as if he didn't want to admit to his curiosity. "If you don't mind taking the time, of course."

"My-oh-my, aren't you a gentleman," Frankie crooned, causing Danse to flush a little around the part of his neck that was visible above his shirt.

Damn, if it's that easy to make him go redder'n a tomato… We might have some problems soon.

Danse's particular brand of bashfulness was causing his stomach to flip, twisting itself up in knots, yet Frankie was more focused on the release of another kind of tension he didn't even realize he'd been holding.

"Just kiddin' around," Frankie said, taking back his normal tone of voice. "It ain't no trouble to me… Hey, can I be truthful with ya for a sec?"

"Always, soldier."

"Well, if I'm bein' honest, I've been waitin' for you to ask. You stare a lot."

The redness at Danse's collar crept rapidly upward. He stood slowly as if he were processing how to handle that. He stretched out his back and rubbed his neck uncomfortably.

Frankie felt a little guilty for what he'd done to the poor bastard so he stood as well, dragging his chair back over to the table it called home. He gestured for Danse to sit and took a seat beside him.

He scooted the chair closer to the Paladin, placing his arm on the table between them for him to analyze.

"This is the main screen. It's got-"

"How does it display your health like that? Or is that for show?" Danse asked, frowning at the indicators on the screen as he cut Frankie off.

Frankie knew the Pip Boy system inside and out. He didn't have to look at it much at all to point to the various blips on the screen. This left him free to watch Danse's face, savoring the various expressions he donned as he leaned in to get a better look at the screen. The neon green glow cast reflected in his dark eyes in a way that was damn near hypnotic.

"When you first put it on each day, it takes a small blood sample. It feels like a pinprick. The rest of the time, it just records basic vitals. Blood pressure, heart rate, things like that…"

Danse narrowed his eyes at the screen. He brought his hand up to interact with it, almost as if on instinct. Frankie sucked in a quiet, anticipatory breath. Danse hesitated, hand now hovering over Frankie's arm.

Though Frankie knew he couldn't possibly see him through the mask, when Danse turned his gaze on him, he felt like he was being stared straight through.

Exposed, vulnerable, willing… Those were among what few words crossed the invisible barrier into Frankie's conscious thoughts.

"Do you mind if I…?" Danse asked gently.

He's asking for permission, you idiot. Answer him. Tell him he can do whatever he wants to you while he's at it. Maybe he'll even let you-

Frankie shook his head. He swallowed hard, saliva chasing salacious comments down the back of his throat.

If it were anyone else, he would've made a move by now. Why he was so preoccupied with not burning this bridge in particular was beyond him. Nothing mattered anymore, right?

"Naw. Go to town."

Smooth. Real smooth, Frankie.

Danse was none the wiser to the double-entendre. He pursed his lips in concentration as he turned his attention back to the Pip Boy. He tapped at a few things on the screen before frowning once more, his exquisitely large hands blocking Frankie's view of what he'd done.

"Interesting… It says you're of exceptional health, yet your heart rate is concerningly high for someone of your fitness level. Ninety-three, and steadily increasing… Are you feeling alright?"

Of course he'd check out the fuckin' vitals first instead of Atomic Command.

Frankie coughed, clearing his throat again. He nodded and looked away from Danse, feeling something resembling shame for the first time in his life.

"You're a quick learner, ain't ya?"

He didn't need Danse to make him aware of the rate at which his heart was hammering away at his ribcage.

Danse stared at him expectantly as he awaited a proper answer, his brow furrowed.

"Never been better," he lied hoarsely, his mouth suddenly dryer than a desert in mid-July.

His thoughts ran at a mile a minute, not unlike his heart. The Pip Boy gave a single beep as a warning popped up, letting them both know he'd stabilized somewhere around a hundred and two.

Do they still have deserts nowadays, or did the apocalypse screw up all the climates? Can't be, I'm sweatin' like hell itself… Christ alive, I need to get laid. Maybe MacCready would be down for-

"Your resting heart rate is about double what it should be. We need to get you to a doctor immediately," Danse insisted.

"The senor's messed up again. Damn this two-hundred-somethin'-year-old tech. Totally unreliable, just like you said."

Frankie jerked his arm away in a way that would've been obvious to most people. Not to Danse, though, who didn't appear to think anything of it.

"You should go wash up," Frankie suggested in the beat of silence that followed.

He glared down at his Pip Boy as if it could somehow save him from the situation it had gotten him into.

Talk about wearin' your heart on your sleeve.

"I don't think that's necessary. I was in my po-"

Frankie interrupted a bit more harshly than intended.

"Listen, the smell of ghoul guts ain't most folks' idea of sexy."

It took Danse approximately a century to leave the room, making sure to pack away his tools first. All the while, Frankie tried to figure out if the Pip Boy was capable of either turning him invisible or self destructing, maybe even both. He didn't exactly care about the particulars, just so long as he didn't have to feel Danse staring at his back.

Great, now he thinks you're physically unwell AND mentally unstable.

Fortunately, Danse didn't say anything as he trudged his way up the creaking stairs. It wasn't until his heavy footsteps faded away that Frankie took a deep, shaky inhale, finally able to breathe again.

[randomwordsandstormydays]

Masterlist

This is a full list of all my Fallout 4 fics, they can all be found here on my Ao3 page or you can click on them individually.

End of the World: Deacon/F!SS

I Never Meant For It To Come To This: Deacon/Scribe Haylen

Better Together Part 1 (Battle Scars): Maccready/F!SS

Better Together Part 2 (My Heart, My Soul): Maccready/F!SS

Ain’t That A Kick In The Head: Deacon/M!SS

Dear Agony: Deacon/Maccready

Something In Your Mouth: Deacon/Maccready

Breathe Me In (You Won’t Release): Deacon/F!SS

Burn It To The Ground: No pairing, F!SS POV

When It Rains, It Pours: Deacon/F!SS

I’m Only Human After All: Deacon/M!SS

Unwanted: Deacon/F!SS

Over the Edge: Deacon/Danse

Too Late To Love You Now: F!Courier/Benny Gecko

In My Head, In My Heart: Deacon/F!SS

Near or Far, I’m Always There: Deacon/F!SS

I Hear The Darkness Calling My Name: Deacon/F!SS

Link to the masterlist of my OC Fallout 4 work is here.

[nautseverywhere]

Christian is very smol.....

And both have cricks in their necks!!!!!