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sweetcocopowder · 1 year ago

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

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

Word Count: 3.1K

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Angst. Gore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nate?” Danse calls out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you stand?” Danse asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

The Haptic Drive is held between his bloody fingers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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sweetcocopowder · 9 months ago

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Day Five: Marking

Synopsis: The new Overboss shows Gage how different he is from Colter.

Word Count: 2.1K

Pairing: Porter Gage / Nate (Sole Survivor)

Warnings: Marking. Blow Job. Come Swallowing. Slight Ptsd.

“These left over from Colter?”

Nate’s intruding hand is quick to be swatted away from where it was hooked in the raider’s singlet. But Nate had seen every single old and fading bite mark and hickey covering Gage’s chest and collarbone. The singlet does shit to cover them up but Nate had wanted to see just how far down they went.

The Overboss raises a brow as he sits back on the couch, waiting for an answer. He lounges like a king, giving the raider an almost lazy look. Gage thought Colter was dangerous. A brute that had pure strength to back his threats. And while Nate is built like some soldier from the Brotherhood of Steel, it’s that certain look in his eye that he gets that has Gage watching just what he says. Like there’s some other motive always conniving in his head.

“Yeah, boss. But I don’t see why you’d care much about that,” Gage answers gruffly, moving off to pour himself a drink at the counter.

It had been a full week and a half since Colter was killed in his own little game. Yes, Gage had set the man up to replace him. But that was necessary. Colter was getting them nowhere. They needed someone like Nate to take them that extra step further. And the man had cleared out half of the park so far. The three gangs had their own little area in Nuka-World and it had satisfied them very much. There’s only two more parks to clear out and then they’re finished.

Then they can expand outwards. Back to the Commonwealth where they can grab a foot hold once again. Shank will help them get set up and help Nate further more. He’ll-

“Do you miss Colter?” Nate asks from the couch, snapping Gage from his thoughts.

He leans on his fist to look over the couch at Gage. He looks to the raider with a smirk playing at this lips, his brows raised. He’ll wait for answer until the raider gives him one. It was a bit unnerving at first but over the week and a half Gage had gotten use to it.

Gage turns his attention away though, having Nate in his blind spot. He pours himself a glass of shitty whiskey. He really wishes the caravans would bring better stuff. Commonwealth probably keeps it all to themselves. Maybe he can ask Shank to bring a special order his way.

“Nope. Not one bit, boss,” Gage answers into his glass. “Got rid of him for a reason, I’ve told you this.”

“Not going to get rid of me like that when you get bored?” Nate calls out, a joking tone to his voice.

He hears the man shuffle around on the couch. He should look his way. See what he’s doing but he instead down his whiskey in one go, hissing at the burn. He pours himself another.

Gage chuckles at that though. When he gets bored. He did get bored. And boredom is what had got Colter killed. Let’s just hope that Nate doesn’t get bored himself.

“No, boss. Colter was running this place in the ground. Got comfy here when the other gangs were about to go at each other’s throat. Did nothing ‘bout it. Why he had to go. You’ve done more than him in the short time you’ve been here than Colter did in the entire year he was here.”

It’s quiet for a moment. A little too quiet.

“How did he treat you?”

Nate’s smooth voice comes from right beside Gage this time round, causing the raider to jump up from where he sits with a loud exclaim of something on the verge of, “Fuck!”

The raider is quick to take a step back, looking to Nate with a wide eye. He’s more shocked than anything. Not by the notion that Nate had snuck up on him, but the notion that Nate would be worried for a man like himself. This man dressed head to toe in combat armour is a man that Gage can’t seem to understand on some days. And tonight is one of those times. He’s seen how kind the man can be. But there’s something darker under all that charm and smooth talk.

“You shouldn’t worry yourself about that too much, boss,” Gage insists. “It’s all in the past now.”

But Nate doesn’t let up. He raises a brow with slightly pursed lips. Something dark flickers over his feature before it’s quickly replaced with that charming smile that Gage has gotten so use to over the past week and so.

“All I want to do,” Nate begins as he crosses the distance between them again, “is show you that I ain’t Colter.”

A finger hooks into Gage’s singlet again to bring it down, showing his bare and bruised chest. They’re all fading now, all yellow and green. But some are still purple, some still in the shape of bites. Colter wasn’t nice. But it made Gage feel wanted. Needed. Yes, he knows very well that he’s useful by himself. Can shoot and stab as good as anyone around here. But the sex is what had Gage keeping so close to Colter. And it was the sex that had Gage stabbing Colter in the back as well.

But despite this, he doesn’t push Nate’s touch away. He feels his face flush something bright on his tanned skin. Nate has shown him over and over that him and Colter are far from the same coin. So maybe it’s pure curiosity that he wants to see what Nate will do.

“And how would you do that, boss?” Gage asks with a raised brow, his voice low and gravelly.

The finger hooked in his singlet moves up to grab at his chin. Gage doesn’t move, his eyes fixated solely on the man before him. Letting the fingers on his chin tilt his head up to look up at the boss. Colter never did this. Wasn’t much for the romantics.

“I’m not good with words, but I can show you,” Nate smirks.

A shudder goes down Gage’s back, goosebumps rising on his skin. The raider can’t find words, his tongue feeling tied to the bottom of his mouth. So, he just nods instead.

Nate’s hand caresses the side of his face before gripping the back of his hair. He pulls back lightly to expose Gage’s neck and the raider panics for a split second, his eye staring wide at the flaking ceiling. He wants to reach out and grab Nate, but he holds his hands flailed out at his side, waiting for the boss to make a move. He could wring his neck and kick out his legs. He could headbutt him and break the bottle of whiskey to stab him in the neck. He could-

Warm, soft lips settle upon his jugular, causing the raider to flinch at such a gentle touch. Another hand wraps around Gage’s waist, pulling him close all as Nate gently sucks and kisses at his neck. It leaves the raider breathless, mouth open and slack type of way.

This is nothing like what Colter use to do. Colter use to bite like some rabid dog, making sure that he marked what was his. Making sure that everyone in the gangs knew who he belonged to. But he doesn’t think what Nate is doing will even leave the smallest of a mark for the morning to come.

Nate’s mouth ventures lower to his collarbone, littering his salty skin with kisses and light grazes of teeth. He keeps going lower, letting go of Gage’s hair so that the raider can watch what his boss is doing. He doesn’t know how to fully grasp this. He finds himself blinking wildly with his mouth agape. Nate being so gentle with him is almost enough for Gage to go insane. He doesn’t think he’s ever experienced this type of touch in his life. It’s all so foreign.

The boss keeps going until he’s on his knees in front of Gage, his fingers hooked into the raider’s belt. Gage lets out a shaky breath at the sight. The Overboss at his knees in front of him, kissing and mouthing at his hardening length behind his jeans. Gage can’t help the keen that comes from his throat, something deep and gruntle.

Nate looks up through his lashes, his deep blues shining with lust. “May I?” He asks, as if he even as to.

He’s the boss. He could do whatever he wants with Gage, and Gage would allow it. He’s let it happen more than a few times in his life. It keeps him alive and seeing the sun rise the next day. But Nate doesn’t. And Gage doesn’t know if it’s dangerous or stupid, yet he’s falling for it all the same.

With a shaky exhale, he manages out a quiet, “Yeah, boss.”

With calloused fingers, Nate unbuckles his belt and pulls down his jeans in one swift motion. Gage’s half hard dick is only but a hair’s breath away from Nate’s mouth, the anticipation of such a lustful act hanging dangerously in the air.

Nate wraps a hand around his length and Gage can’t help the small hic in his breathing. But the boss doesn’t stroke Gage or wrap his mouth around the head of his cock, no. Instead, his warm mouth latches onto the inside of Gage’s thigh to suck at the soft skin. And this time, Nate sucks hard enough to leave his mark.

Gage groans deep in his throat, his hand instinctively resting on Nate’s head. He doesn’t want to grab, doesn’t want to overstep.

When Nate pulls away he grins at his work, rubbing a thumb over the fresh purple mark. Then he does the same a little closer to Gage’s dick, his skin much more sensitive the closer he gets. The raider’s heart beats loudly in his chest, his breathing shaky and uneven.

Nate marks Gage where no one can see it. Making sure that he evens out the raider’s other thigh with multiple marks before moving back to the other. All while he manoeuvres Gage’s hard cock so he can get as close as he can without touching him. He looks upon his work with a smirk, rubbing a thumb over his most recent one. He looks up to Gage who stares down with a hazy expression. He leans heavily against the counter behind him with a shaky hand, the other still nestled in Nate’s hair.

“Much better than the shit Colter did, hey?” Nate asks, looking for some approval at his handy work.

Gage finds himself nodding a little too hastily. “Yeah, boss. Much better,” he breathes out, his words sounding a million miles from here.

Nate chuckles, something that comes from deep within his chest. The boss doesn’t waste any more time now. He takes the head of Gage’s cock into his mouth and swirls his tongue over the tip. Gage groans, the hand on Nate’s head now gripping into his dark hair. Before the raider can let go, Nate hums in approval, only taking more of Gage into his mouth.

“Boss,” Gage groans out through his teeth.

He doesn’t think he’s going to be able to last much longer. The coil of pleasure constricts within his gut, making his legs and knees weak where he stands. He can’t get his breathing under control and the noises that slip past his lips seem to only to urging Nate on. He squeezes Gage’s thighs firmly as he bottoms out, his nose hitting the dark curls of pubic hair before he pulls off of his cock. He licks the underside of his cock, lapping at the precum before bottoming out again. Gage can feel his dick hit the back of the boss’s throat and it pushes a pure, horny moan from his mouth.

“Boss, I-“ Gage tries to hold on, not wanting to let go.

But Nate hums again, looking up at Gage with lustful eyes. The sight alone has the raider coming undone. His orgasm hits him like a train, nerves shooting through him like electricity as he comes down the boss’s throat. He holds Nate where he is, fingers gripping tightly into his dark hair. And Nate takes every last drop.

When Gage finally lets go, Nate coughs and splutters as he leans on the back of his heels. He covers his mouth, trying to be modest. Gage tries to collect himself the best he can, but he finds himself having to lean fully against the counter behind him for extra support.

When he looks over to the boss, he wears a smug grin on his flushed face. “Better than Colter?” He asks.

And Gage can’t help but chuckle heartedly at that. Was it jealously that drove the boss to do so? He doesn’t think he’ll ever know. But there’s one thing he can say for sure about the boss.

With a scoff, he breathes out, “You’re an odd one at that, boss. But a good type of odd.”

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