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gococogo · 17 days

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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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baddieladdie · 3 months

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On Love & Loss

For mature audience, TW: Grief, Fear

Description: Enemies to Lovers, Danse x Nora dramatic slow burn 🔥 with lots of angst, understanding, and overcoming loss in finding new perspectives.

Chapter 1 - The General

- Year 2288, in the radioactive remains of North Boston -

Autumn had returned to Boston.

The cloudy weather and lingering chill was the same as before. Barren trees lined the cracked pavement, littered with brown leaves. The evening breeze rustled through Nora’s hair and she drew her coat a little tighter around herself. It was cold, just like today was, when they were released from the hospital. A slow, mournful smile spread across Nora’s face as she savored the warmth of the memory. Nate gripped the leather steering wheel the whole ride home. She looked back to see her baby, her tiny son, asleep in his car seat. She placed a reassuring hand on Nate’s thigh, “It’ll be okay, darling! We have our whole lives together now.”

CrUNcH CrUNcH CrUNcH

“Ew! You stepped on a radroach!” One of the children shrieked dramatically.

“That’s disgusting! Look at that green-goo coming out of it!”

The children groaned in disgust as Nora scraped the bug guts off her boot with a handy stick.

“Quite alright, kids! Just another joy of adventuring out in the wastes!” She forced a cheerful tone despite the grief weighing heavily in her chest.

“Bugs don’t scare me, Ms. Nora”

“That’s very brave, Samantha - but do be careful. Some of these bugs can pack a mean punch.”

Nora used the moment of attention to take a brief attendance. All seven of the children she was tasked to guide to Sanctuary Hills looked back at her with tired eyes. Nora glanced up, squinted at the hazy light finding its resting place on the horizon.

“This is as far as we’re walking today, my darlings. Let’s set up camp in that shed.” She pointed to a decaying shed in the distance. Though covered in scratches, moss, and blood, it was still standing.

“It smells funny in here, Ms. Nora” little Samantha complained as she wandered inside.

“It’s only for the night, I promise! We aren’t far now from Sanctuary Hills where the Minutemen have rebuilt all the houses. And in each and every house is a Mummy and Daddy waiting for you!”

The children giggled in gleeful excitement as Nora continued their nightly routine. She rolled out the fur blankets over the dirty floor and passed around dried radstag meat. Though it was crowded in the shed, the children were warm and protected from the elements. Just one more long night of keeping watch and Nora could finally get some proper rest in Sanctuary.

The roar of a vertibird is a common sound in this part of the commonwealth, she didn’t stop opening the can of purified water to step outside. Those ‘ fanatical metal hoarders’ were likely after the bots down at Gray Garden. That damn Brotherhood faction could never mind their own business; Flaunting their entitlement to technology and its power wherever it revealed itself.

Nora was more impressed by the ingenuity, integrity, and selflessness of the Minutemen. The title of ‘General’ imposed on her was certainly a surprise, but it was a duty that gave her a sense of purpose. Her duties as General that kept her sane over the last year. Helping others recover from disaster in a way she never could. She lived vicariously through the relief and joy she brought to settlers in need. The good deeds slowly cleansing her guilty conscience, plagued by memories from Vault 111.

The sound of spinning metallic blades got louder, strong gusts of wind shook the thin walls of the shed. Deafening her words, Nora frantically motioned for the children to stay inside. She pleaded silently with a non-existent god that the children would remain silent, safe.

Nora held her trusty knife close and cautiously peered around the corner wall of the shed. A BOS vertibird was closing in on their little set-up, far too fast for them to run. Not like they could escape the bullets from the minigun strapped inside. She mustered her confidence and stepped away from the shed and its safety. Wind tousled her auburn hair as she stared down the passengers - a pilot, a scribe, and a brotherhood knight wearing the standard issued X-01 power armor. The brotherhood crest painted boldly on the torso plate.

The 7ft tall metal man jumps down from the vertibird, its blades slowing to an eerie and silent stop. The rusted X-01 armor clanged loudly with every approaching step. The outline of a laser rifle mounted to his back became more clear. The man could end her with a single step. She only had cheap armor made of bent scraps and a knife. But Nora was always armored with her wits.

“Vault Dweller.” His voice boomed from inside the armor, “General of the Minutemen.”

“What do you want?” She squinted suspiciously. Not many would address her that way. Directly, with only titles. She preferred to be called by her name, even by foes.

“I just want to talk.” The man advanced towards her.

Nora backed away from the shed, pleading silently that he didn’t see the children she traveled with. Oh god, please let the babies stay silent.

“The hell you are, tin man!” Nora shouted.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” In good faith, the soldier stowed his weapon, turning his empty palms outward.

“I could never believe that! You wear more personal protection than I’ve ever seen and carry enough firepower to level a homestead. No. No! I don’t believe you.”

“The Brotherhood of Steel is here to protect the people of the commonwealth, just like you.”

Nora scoffs loudly. “How?” The rage in her voice as sharp as any steel blade. “By stealing and-and HOARDING the means of protection and defense to yourselves? How *exactly* are you helping anyone but yourselves? All I see is an army in a blimp and starving, frightened people here on the ground.” Her panting breath froze like steam, but the distraction was working. With every raging step, she moved further and further from the shed. That’s it, eyes on me big fella. The armored man was fixated on her, only her. “The brotherhood of steel is just a better organized gang of raiders.” She hissed.

“Whoever gave you that information was wrong, I assure you.”

"I didn't need anyone to tell me what to think. I've seen enough of what the Brotherhood does. You take what little food Commonwealth farmers have. They can’t fight back.”

The male voice spoke with holy conviction, “We offer them protection.”

The sound of a baby crying breaks his concentration on Nora. The cries are quickly muffled, but it’s too late, the man of the steel turns to face the shed.

“What are you doing out here anyway, general?” He turned slowly, the suspicion in his voice played into her fears.

Shawn’s face flashed in her mind. She couldn’t stop herself from submitting to the anguish. “I won’t let you hurt them!”

Nora quickly draws her knife and races towards the man clad in heavy power armor. She leaps onto his back, one arm around his neck and the other preparing to drive the knife into his neck - one of the only exposed areas. Just like hunting turtles. But the armored man is far stronger and yanks her off by her arm. Nora screams as she feels herself flying to the ground.

The air is knocked out of her and she loses consciousness as her head slams against unforgiving ground. -> Chapter 2: The Paladin

Also posted on my ao3!

#fallout 4 fanfic #fo4 fanfic #love & loss #sole survivor #paladin danse #paladin danse x sole survivor #ao3 fanfic

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