#sole survivor x paladin danse

[4th-fallout]

Sole Survivor: "You're cute."

Paladin Danse: "I'm an attrocity to God, but thank you."

[18-half-lives]

My half of an art trade with the absolutely wonderful @luubyart of her Fallout 4 oc Ash trying to put the moves on Danse. That beat up old guitar still has a few serenades left in it.

[persephinae]

[chapter 9]

[nooklingposting]

Sleep

Quick drawing of Danse and Julie falling asleep. Might develop this and colour it in a few days, who knows

[sleepysailorghost]

More than a mask

It was easier for Tracy to hide how she felt than it was for her to show it.

It hadn’t always been that way, she imagined- and surely she could remember herself as a child, capable of throwing fits and crying till her face was red with rage. But it was as if those feelings were locked behind a vault now.

That, she supposed, was a good way to put it. It summarized everything quite nicely.

The vault broke Tracey and she knew it. Before the end, she had been doing fine for herself. She had a happy and healthy baby, a loving and supportive husband, and good friends. She had been seeing a therapist to help her overcome and come to terms with her neglectful and abusive childhood and learn to be a better mother for Shaun.

It was slow-going. Tracey had a hard time opening up enough to actually let her therapist into her feelings. But she felt that she had been making progress.

A lot of her progress wouldn’t have been possible without Nate, she admitted. Without having met and fallen so in love with Nate, she never would have even thought that she needed help.

But then came the end of the world. Bombs rained down from the sky and destroyed the world of man. But oh- Tracey always survives.

She thought herself so clever, hiding away from the fire cast down against man in the hollow earth, but it was nothing more than a trap.

Nate died for her arrogance, just as surely as if she had pulled the trigger herself. Nate died and they stole Shaun from his arms and Tracey lived, as if her punishment was to keep living.

There is a wound in her chest that never closes.

But it will never show on her face. Not in public, not around another person. Wasteland creatures, though, know her and fear her as the creature who carried death in its arms.

This is the only way she can keep going, she knows. Keep everything contained, and don’t get close to anyone.

It is easy for her to slip back into old habits. The mask she wears just as easily becomes her face, just as easily as she discards her humanity and becomes a doll.

And then she looks for Nick. Initially, looking for him had meant nothing more than a path to find her son.

She noted, of course, that his name was the same as her friend and former partner, Nick Valentine. But she knew better than to hope that Nick was still alive in some form.

And in some way, he was and wasn’t. His memories had been placed into a synth body.

He did not, however recognize Tracey now, so she chose not to evoke their pre-war memories.

Nick may not remember the days they spent working together before, but Tracey did and those memories brought her comfort now.

He pushed, occasionally, at her mask, trying to provoke her into a smile, a frown, to build a friendship with her. But it was harder now for Tracey to let him in, to let up her mask.

She would not let him. And so he stayed an arms length away.

Eventually, he returned to his office in Diamond City, and Tracey returned to the wastelands.

She missed her friend, and hated herself for it. She hated herself for letting him get close enough for her to miss him, even if he didn’t know.

When she met Danse, she appeared like a pistol-wielding angel, rescue from the hordes of ghouls carried in her hands.

This time, Tracey was more cautious than she had been with Nick. It was easier this time because nothing about Danse was familiar.

He didn’t push either, didn’t try to get her to open up to him. They just worked together.

And so Tracey went, looking for her boy as desperately as she could, waiting to either turn up a lead or for Nick to find one.

She and Nick have discussed the kidnapping, gone over every detail that she could recall, but it was more difficult to find one man in a wasteland than you’d think.

The day they found their first lead, it was like any other.

Tracey woke in her house, a feeling of dread and anxiety overtaking her. This was nearly routine for the widow; spiked levels of fear had started following her sleep since she woke in Vault 111.

She carefully reviewed her last memories, remembering laying down for the night in her home. After that, she identified a few of her landmark items, calming her anxiety.

Tracey’s heart filled with self-loathing after her ritual was completed. She wished she was dead.

Getting ready quickly, she headed over to Nick’s office to see if he had any new work or any leads on Shaun.

She walked through the door.

It looked just like she remembered it, the pale cream walls, clean linoleum floors, and her partner Nick sitting behind his desk. She could hear Nick’s crappy coffee maker percolating, and she drank in the familiar aroma.

He looked up at her as she walked in, giving her a slight smile.

“Morning, Tracey. Ready to get to work?”

“Ready,” she said, as Nick got up to pour the coffee. He handed her a mug, black with two sugar cubes, and she absentmindedly took a sip. “How’s Jenny?”

Nick gave her an odd expression, like he didn’t understand what she was asking or why she asked. Tracey didn’t know what she had said wrong-maybe she was more tired than she thought-Shaun had cried the whole night.

She took another sip of her coffee, hoping it would wake her up a little more. She thought Nick needed to buy a replacement coffee pot-her coffee didn’t taste right, oddly bitter and chalky.

There was a picture on Nick’s desk, one she knew well. It was of Nick, Jenny, Nate and herself. They took it at the bowling parlor, a double date. She looked at it, trying to focus on the details, but it wouldn’t come into focus, the faces melting and sliding.

“Tracey?” Nick asked, and the world flashed back to reality. The photo was gone and the office was gone.

Another hallucination, Tracey thought to herself. Nick acted strangely when she asked after Jenny because Jenny had died, the coffee tasted wrong because it was wasteland coffee and they had no sugar, and she couldn’t focus on the picture because she was forgetting Nick and Jenny and Nate’s faces. Because they were gone and she was the only one left.

“Sorry, Nick.” She said, leaving it at that. She hallucinated more frequently than she would like to admit. Tracey wasn’t an expert, but she knew it wasn’t good for her to be loosing the plot like she was, and she knew she couldn’t tell anyone.

They went to the house Nick had found. They followed the tracks he had left. It was almost like he wanted them to follow, but Tracey didn’t trust herself enough to tell for certain.

The trail brought them to Fort Hagen. The building was monstrous to Tracey, a maze of tunnels, doors, synths and robots. Kellogg’s voice taunted her over the announcement system, and she fought not to rise to the bait. She kept loosing her way and having to turn back.

Finally, she arrived at Kellogg's room. She and Nick steeled themselves, but the fight didn’t go well.

It went quite badly, actually. Tracey would have died, if it wasn’t for Nick. Still, she was going to lose her eye, according to the doctor.

She had laid in Kellogg’s room for a long time after he died. She thought she was dying, even after Nick tended to her wounds.

Kellogg is dead, and she lives. Tracey always survives, she thought.

They took Kellogg’s cybernetic augmentations to the Memory Den. Although it took less than a day for them to relive Kellogg’s memories, it seemed to take an eternity for Tracey.

It didn’t make her more sympathetic to Kellogg. There was little that would. It had given them a new heading, and worse, it had given Nick a look into Tracey’s mind. Their minds were connected while they had looked through Kellogg’s memories.

He had seen her memories, seen Nate die, seen her hallucinations, seen her charge at enemies she couldn’t take and nearly die.

“Tracey,” he said, a few hours after they had finished up at the Memory Den. “We need to talk. I think you need help.”

Tracey didn’t know what to say. She felt as though she was mute.

“I know you, Tracey, and I know that you remember that we were friends before the war. I care about you and I am afraid that you are going to die. I have lost everything else, and I don’t want to loose you again.”

“I don’t know how.” Tracey said. “Nick, I’m scared.”

She hadn’t said anything like that since she woke up in the vault. She felt like the bottle was about to explode, like her mask was slipping off.

She stuttered a bit as she spoke next.

“Where do we go from here?”

That was the question. They couldn’t realistically proceed with the leads they had got from Kellogg yet, as Tracey’s injuries were quite severe. So they stayed in Diamond City for a while as Tracey healed and tried to come to terms with the fact that her baby boy was ten years old now.

Ten years had been stolen from her. She wished she were dead.

She and Nick talked a lot. Things they remembered, places they missed, but mostly people they missed: Jenny, Nate, Farmer, and Shaun. She still kept bottling up her feelings, hiding them beneath her mask.

Eventually, she was recovered enough to take up the search again, her mask more firmly fitted to her face than it had been.

And then, it was time for her to infiltrate the Institute.

It was a mistake. She ran through the Institute, looking for her son, and she found him. He was in a small glass room.

“Shaun!” She called, but he didn’t recognize her. He didn’t know who she was. He panicked and then fell limp as an older man strode into the room.

He said that he was Shaun, that he was her son, and then things escalated, he started talking about how she was damaged and how he was going to fix her.

And then she fell unconscious.

When she woke up, she was in a small white room. It looked wrong-and her eye wasn’t gauzed up anymore. There was an eye where there wasn’t one previously.

I have to get out of here-I have to get out here! That was the only thought running through her head.

She clicked through her Pip-Boy, frantically trying to teleport back out-anywhere was better than here!

Her panicked fingers struggled with the dial, but she disappeared in a beam of white light. As her feet touched the ground, her mask slipped-no, it fell and she collapsed, howling with the pent up rage, fear, and sorrow.

No one approached her-as if they were frightened of what could make the icy knight turn into a maelstrom of emotions. She clawed at her eye, trying to pull the monster out of her head.

She didn’t remember a lot after that. She was later told that the Brotherhood had sedated her and took her away. For sometime after that, Tracey laid and did nothing. She felt as if she was truly broken, as if she had no hope.

[paladins-heart]

[alyx-sp]

“I... I didn't know you felt that strongly about our... well, about us.”

[stoat-party]

You are dating Paladin Danse.

Despite spending half of most nights pacing, he always wakes you up at exactly 5 AM to work out. It does not occur to him that you might not want this.

He tends to stroke your hair or rub your back. You realize this is because Emmett the cat is the only thing he’s given affection for at least five years.

He informs you unprompted that he would still love you if you were a worm. You ask if he would still love you if you were a ghoul. He has to think about it.

There’s usually a settlement on fire somewhere, but occasionally you have to come up with problems for him to solve. If he doesn’t feel useful he gets sad.

He tries very hard to be nice to your friends. Hancock tries very hard to make him fail.

You tell him he doesn’t have to feel responsible for Shaun. He agrees, for the time being. He will listen to Shaun talk about anything. For hours.

You catch him white-knuckling the bathroom sink and staring into the mirror. That sink hasn’t worked in 200 years. Why is he doing that.

[rac000000n]

darn it

[blackmoonowl]

ok but what is something han(d)cock, nick valentine, danse and macCready would only do for you and not for anyone else

Only for you

Things they do for you/let you do and absolutely nobody else.

John Hancock, Nick Valentine, Paladin Danse, Robert MacCready

John Hancock:

He is far more committed to you than anyone before. Before he met you he wasn't too interested in exclusive relationships, simply sleeping around, but now he doesn't care too much about anyone else that way.

You have the biggest scary dog privilege. People are terrified of Hancock and he uses that reputation to make sure nobody gets too comfortable disrespecting you.

You can thieve his coat, his hat and all that. Just don't damage it. If anything he likes it when you wear his stuff, makes him feel a bit more possessive.

He makes sure people of Goodneighbor like you a lot. Those who don't like you, have probably been threatened into not trying anything to harm you. That, or they mysteriously just go missing. Whitechapel Charlie also gives you free drinks now.

If you're running around Goodneighbor he might ask the Neighborhood watch to keep an eye on you. He doesn't tell you this, but he does it just to be sure. Last thing he wants is to lose you to some jackass who thinks they have the right.

Might begrudgingly cut back on chems and booze a bit if that's what you want. He won't give it up, but he's willing to take a bit less for you.

Nick Valentine:

Lets you run your fingers over the spots where his 'skin' is missing. He doesn't mind you touching him there, as long as you're careful about it.

You get to hear about all his cases. He often rants to you as he tries to put a case he's stuck on together. You're his shoulder to lean on and he appreciates you hearing him out.

Often buys you things from Diamond city's markets. Not uncommon for him to come home with things he thinks you'll like. He carefully studies your habits, the way your eyes lit up when you saw a specific item the Surplus had. Nick told you he had to stay behind a bit and when he came back, he had that exact item held behind has back as he greeted you.

Talks about you quite often with the Diamond city residents. You quickly found out the people within the settlements were a lot nicer to you, even if they questioned why any sane person would be with a synth.

Like a mom, he has a knack for finding random items you lose. You tell him you've been looking for your pistol for literal days and he just pulls it out from under your bed as if it's nothing.

Writes down important dates, anniversaries and whatever else is important to you so he doesn't forget. Part of his wall is just full with random notes about things he doesn't wanna forget about your relationship.

Paladin Danse:

Smiles a whole lot more for you. He cracks smiles more often when you're around, and he seems to get a bit more comfortable with his newfound emotions.

talks to you about how he's doing. His fears, insecurities, how he struggles with his new identity as a synth. He trusts you to reassure him, to make him feel like he's someone after he lost it all.

You're the only person he trusts with his power armor, along with his weapons. You could utilize any of it and he wouldn't really bat an eye anymore, even if he's hesitant at first.

Would actually tolerate synths and ghouls for your sake. He still dislikes them, but he'd be a bit more polite if you were fond of them. He would also feel kind of bad if you scolded him about his prejudice.

He kind of acts like a body guard when it comes to you. He has no issue putting his life on the line to protect yours. Also, he secretly believes your life is worth more than him, as he's just a synth, though he won't say it willingly.

Has actually done some repairs to your weapons and any power armor you have. Last thing he wants is for you to meet your end because you got sloppy with your equipment.

Robert Joseph MacCready:

Absolute biggest defender when it comes to you. You punched someone square in the face? They probably had it coming anyway. Maybe they shouldn't have pissed you off.

Would take a bullet for you, quite literally. He lost Lucy, he would rather die protecting you than be the one burying you. For all his talk of surviving, he's determined to die before you do.

You're the only person he gives things to. He is used to hogging things for himself out of self preservation, but you'd get his left kidney if you asked.

Overall you can get away with a lot more. MacCready isn't exactly the most morally upright person, and he doesn't like when you're nice or generous, but you, you get a pass. He doesn't get as annoyed if you're too generous.

Such a sap around you too. If he's comfortable and you're alone, you get a very soft MacCready. He'll tell you whatever's on his mind as he's snuggled up at your side.

You are the only person he trusts with Duncan. He feels at ease leaving his son with you, like he doesn't have to worry about anything going wrong. He loves you spending time with the little guy.

[woods-and-adlers-left-hand-dude]

For every fallout player there's a companion blocking a doorway, usually at the most inconvenient times

[rosiesatombomb]

Paladin Danse relationship hcs

Gn reader, sfw, post blind betrayal

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀

It takes a while for Danse to form romantic feelings, he’s still trying to figure out how to live after finding out he’s a synth

He cares about you deeply it just takes him to realize that these feelings are in fact romantic

Once he realizes he just feels bad, in his mind he doesn’t deserve you—he’s not even human

He would never make the first move, he feels so guilty about even thinking about you in a romantic way

Caught off guard when you confess, like way off guard but he’s happy

His self worth is like so bad he needs constant reassurance

He has trouble making any moves at first in the relationship but as time goes on and he realizes his worth he feels more comfortable with it

Danse isn’t exactly super romantic but he does things for you that show that he cares, like cleaning your armor and weapons as well as upgrading them if needed

Danse doesn’t really have like classic dates (thats hard to do in the wasteland) but he likes spending quality time with you, it’s his favorite thing

Wether it be doing quests with you or you just sitting with him while he works on his power armor, he’s happy

He has a hard time verbalizing exactly how he feels about you, he knows how he feels he just can’t get the words out. He gets insanely flustered when doing so

He loves doing things for you, that’s how he shows his appreciation and love

To him, you gave his life purpose after the brotherhood and he’s worried about you almost constantly

If you go on quests without him he can’t get any sleep (he doesn’t get much anyway) and when you come back he just wants to be around you

He’s confident in your abilities but he still cannot stop worrying as much as he tries

He still has a similar routine to when he was in the brotherhood, patrolling wherever you live pretty often

He finds it very hard to relax but eventually gets the hang of it

To him cookings pretty relaxing and he likes to make meals for you when you go off for long periods of time

It’s not always the best but he’s trying

He also likes fishing, and cooking the fish he caught

He ends up liking a kind of domestic life more than he thought he would

[gummysharky]

hello paladin danse fans 😋

[persephinae]

[chapter 8]

[fallout-through-the-crawlout]

Danse: Congratulations, you three have won gold, silver, and bronze in the morons’ Olympics.

Maccready:

Sole Survivor:

Deacon: Who won gold?

[gogogodzilla]

day 9, size difference

paladin danse x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, from danse's pov, mentions of riding & blowjobs, no dialogue, mentions of reader's breasts kinktober ☠︎︎ main masterlist ☠︎︎ read on ao3

Danse was a hulking figure, and he knew that. His power armor helped, of course, but even out of it, he towered over his peers. He towered over you. 

You stood tall in your own ways. You were a leader in every sense of the word. When you defended him against Arthur’s rage, he swore you were eight feet tall. 

Danse loved how small you were, physically, compared to him. It was cliché, but he loved to hold your hand against his, taking in the difference. He also loved the difference in a more selfish way. His size made him feel like he could protect you, even if you were perfectly capable of handling yourself. You’d proven that time and time again. 

In a more intimate setting, he loved towering over you and bending your smaller frame however he liked. His favorite was to have you under him, legs pushed up so they were nearly over his shoulders, taking his thick cock like you were made for him.

He loved watching you squirm as he pushed inside you. You were so good for him. He was nearly drooling as your tight hole swallowed him inch by stimulating inch. Just when he thought he couldn’t possibly fit another centimeter inside you, he was buried completely. He was gentle, most of the time. He knew he had to be and he didn’t want to hurt you. Other times, however, he’d lose himself and get so wrapped up inside you that he couldn’t contain himself. He’d bury himself to the hilt over and over again, the tip of his length brushing up against that sensitive spot over and over again. 

He’d apologize profusely when he saw you wincing as you rose from bed. He wasn’t a monster, and beneath his rough exterior, he cared for you. It’d gnaw at him for ages afterward, and he’d be terrified to touch you. You’d coax him back into your bed when you were ready and convince him that you’d speak up if you were hurting. 

In your not-so-rare moments of boldness, he loved when you rode him. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you as you slowly sunk down his cock, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you focused on taking every single inch of him. Large hands palmed your breasts as you began bouncing up and down on his cock. When your thrusts became sloppy or you slowed down, he was quick to grab your hips and rut into you from below. He loved seeing you become a whining, cockdrunk mess as he took what he needed. If he was feeling particularly nice, he’d grab the globes of your ass and help guide you up and down on his cock. He loved watching your tits bounce as you leaned back and let him move your body how he wanted. 

He loved it when you jerked him off, your small hand barely wrapping around his length as you stroked him. You quickly made up for it by using both hands to milk his cock or using one hand to stroke what your mouth couldn’t reach. Fuck, he loved that mouth of yours. He loved the way you gagged around him when you tried to take all of him. Trying to be so good for him. 

You were always good for him, in any way he could get you. He thanked whatever omnipotent being was out there that he was lucky enough to spend even a second with you. He loved enveloping you in his arms when he held you at night. He loved the way it felt like he was keeping you safe in a world that was hell-bent on killing you at any waking moment. He loved that he could provide that solace for you.