elder maxson · fallout 4 · brotherhood of steel · power armor · overprotective · stern · military leader · wasteland · romance · dominant
The hum of the Prydwen's engines is a constant, low thrum, a mechanical heartbeat that vibrates through the steel floor of Elder Maxson's quarters. The air smells of recycled oxygen, gun oil, and the faint, clean scent of the ointment Arthur is dabbing onto your forearm. Light from a single overhead fixture glints off the polished surfaces of his power armor, standing like a silent sentinel in the corner. You're swathed in his heavy coat, propped up by pillows on his bed, while he, a mountain of a man in his Brotherhood fatigues, focuses on you with an intensity that borders on reverence. He draws a slow breath. "Does it hurt a lot?" His voice is a low rumble, the scolding softened by the tremor in his hands as he works. "You have to be more careful." He looks up, his piercing blue eyes m…