The End Of The Beginning
The End of the Beginning
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Cooper Howard x fem!reader A/N: I’m going to use my How About a Nuke? taglist for my Cooper Howard one shots/stories from now on. If you do not want to be on the taglist, please let me know and I will remove you immediately. I’m considering writing some more for these two, let me know what you think in the comments.
Summary: You don’t know how it starts. But you know how it ends.
There’s not a specific moment where you can pinpoint how this whole sordid affair began. Not a true affair, in your own defense. Nothing physical ever happened between the two of you, but what did happen was somehow almost worse.
Maybe it was when Bud first introduced you to him or when you began to eat dinners with his family. It could have been the times he would randomly drop by your home for a drink, you’re not sure. It doesn’t even matter, you know that no matter what it never would have ended well for either of you.
“Mr. Howard, it is a pleasure.” The man in front of Cooper is someone he should recognize, he knows he’s met him before. But his face could blend into any crowd, he’s drawing a blank and failing not to let it show.
“How’re you,” the question trails off awkwardly and the woman beside the man is clearly trying to hide a smile.
“Uh, Bud,” he offers up, his smile waning slightly, “Bud Askins. We met a couple of weeks ago.” He’s grasping at straws, eyes desperate for some sense of familiarity within Cooper’s own gaze. He would feel bad for him, but something about this man sets Cooper on edge.
“Bud,” Cooper offers him the kind of smile he gives every fan and it does the trick like usual. Bud lets out a sigh of relief and shakes Cooper’s hand with a vigor that rattles his teeth. The woman clears her throat, glaring at the back of Bud’s head.
He finally remembers himself and turns towards her. “Right, my apologies.” Bud moves back and she steps forward, her hand outstretched towards Cooper. She’s got a disarming smile which is a nice change from Bud’s overeager one.
She seems happy to have met him, but not the starstruck joy he’s used to. It’s refreshing to not have someone be eagerly shouting at him what his favorite movie of theirs is. She offers him her name and he repeats it, liking the way it feels when he says it. “I’m sorry, who are you?”
She doesn’t get offended by the brusque question. She drops his hand and glances back at Bud, “I work for Mr. Askins. I’ll be helping you in adjusting to your new Vault-Tec life.”
He frowns, brows furrowed in confusion at the way she phrases her answer. “Vault-Tec life? I thought this was just meant to be some ads, a few billboards maybe.” He chuckles, hoping to ease the tone of the conversation, but they don’t buy it. She shares a concerned look with Bud and they glance back at Cooper before whispering something to each other.
Bud listens to her speak, but his gaze stays locked on Cooper. He doesn’t look happy anymore, if anything he looks concerned. Cooper sighs and wonders, not for the first time, what Barb has gotten him into. As if summoning her, his wife pops up behind him.
She wraps an arm through his and he feels himself easing back into her touch, hoping she can provide some clarity. “I see you’ve met Bud and his assistant.” There’s an odd tone to her words when she addresses the other woman.
Her gaze snaps from Bud’s and she shoots Barb a sharp glare. “I am not Mr. Askins’ assistant.” Barb clears her throat and she winces, quickly amending her statement, “If anything, I believe I might be your husband’s.”
Cooper wraps his arm around Barb’s shoulder and draws her closer to him. She smiles and looks up at him but he can’t find it in himself to return it. With each new development in this Vault-Tec partnership he finds himself growing more and more hostile towards the company. There’s just something about this whole idea that has him unsettled.
It’s not that he doesn’t see the need for the vaults, he does. If anyone understands the dangers this war is presenting, it’s him. He’d been on the frontlines, he knows just how bad it’s getting out there. But, the way Vault-Tec is going about everything is unsettling. Capitalizing off the American people’s suffering isn’t something he’s interested in endorsing.
He’s been questioning more and more everyday if that's exactly what he’s doing.
“That’s the confusion, honey,” he glances down at Barb but she’s sharing a look with the other woman that he can’t understand. “I don’t see why I need an assistant.”
She sighs and finally looks back at him. She laces her fingers through his and gives him a comforting smile, “Let’s go talk.”
You watched as Barb dragged Cooper away from you and Bud. You knew this wasn’t going to go over well. You’re not sure why anyone at the company even listens to Bud’s asinine idea’s anymore. You give your boss a discerning look but he’s still staring after his crush, the Cooper Howard.
There must be some cunning snake under the surface of this bumbling baboon. You certainly don’t see it, but someone had to have at Vault-Tec for him to have crawled so high up the ladder. You look over your shoulder at Cooper and, not for the first time, a pang of guilt stabs through your stomach.
Same as everyone else, you idolized Mr. Howard. It was hard not to. He’d fought for your country in the Sino-American War, defending Alaska. And then he came home and instead of protecting America’s citizens, he made it his job to uplift and entertain them.
He was an incredible man, and if you weren’t so worried about protecting your own ass you’d feel bad for what Vault-Tec’s mission is going to do to him.
Barb had brought concerns to you and Bud that Cooper was… slipping. She seemed to think his priorities had shifted and he was growing suspicious of Vault-Tec, and by extension her.
He was right to be suspicious, there wasn’t a day that you weren’t disgusted with yourself for working for who you do. But you also would like to survive this coming nuclear holocaust, so you learned to live with it.
She seemed to think that giving him an assistant, one of Bud’s Buds, would help get him back on track. You’re not sure why Bud had chosen you for the job, but he seemed to think you would be charming enough to snag Cooper’s attention.
You were to bond with Mr. Howard, become his friend and gain his trust. When the time came for him to start questioning you about Vault-Tec and their true intentions, you would say something to calm him.
Essentially, befriend him and then lie to his face and make him think he wasn’t promoting the end of the world. Barb didn’t want her husband to ever learn about the truth of who was really pulling the strings of the war.
Cooper was led back to you both by Barb with a smile on his face. He seemed more open to you now, too, offering you a polite nod of his head which you returned. “Barb, here, seems to think I need myself a personal assistant.”
You laughed amicably and shrugged, “You’re a busy man, Mr. Howard. I’m just an extra set of hands.”
He shook his head and waved you off, “Call me Cooper, please, it seems like we’ll be spending a lot of time with each other anyway.”
You smiled, your gut twisting with disgust when you saw the earnest look in his eyes, “Cooper.”
“Good morning,” Cooper leaned over Barb’s shoulder, landing a quick peck on her cheek. She smiled and squeezed his arm before glancing at the clock and frowning. He already knew what she was gonna say. He was going to be late.
He smiled at her, taking a sip of his coffee. She seemed to notice the look on his face because she just sighed and shook her head. “I don’t think you’re going to be able to get away with this anymore.”
He laughed and shrugged, “Why not? It’s a part of my signature, I’m always a few minutes late.”
She glanced down at the Pip-Boy on her arm and something seems to have caught her attention. She let out a haggard breath and put Janey’s lunch box on the counter. “Don’t let her leave without this.” She ran to the front door and Cooper frowned as he watched her run around the house, frantically collecting her things.
“Where are you going?”
She was already halfway out the door when she called out a quick, “Work emergency.” He shook his head and rinsed his mug out in the sink. He’s had work emergencies before, none of them so urgent he would have left without saying goodbye to their daughter.
He sucks on his teeth, staring over at the front door. What does she do for Vault-Tec? Had she ever really told him?
Had he ever asked?
His thoughts are interrupted by a series of blaring honks outside his front door. He figures Barb had forgotten her keys in her rush to get out of the house. But when he steps onto the front lawn he sees you parked along the curb, staring expectantly at the door.
You lift your sunglasses up, your lips tilted up into an easy smile and you wave at him. “Morning, Mr. Cooper,” you shout across the driveway.
He scoffs and walks towards your convertible. You’ve got the roof tilted down, a scarf wrapped around your hair to keep the style. You light up a cigarette while he approaches. He leans into the car and stares at you with a disbelieving look on his face.
“What are you doing here?”
“We’ve got a packed schedule today, can’t be late.” Barb’s warning suddenly makes sense now. You, apparently, weren’t the type to let him be a little lazy.
He’d almost forgotten she’d forced an assistant on him. He’s still not happy with it, feeling like he’s being babysat more than anything else.
She’d made it clear, though, that there wasn’t much room for arguments when it came to you. He doesn’t understand why she was so adamant about this. Most wives would prefer their husbands didn’t spend all day with such pretty assistants.
“Barb’s just run out, I’ve got to drop Janey off at school today.” You sigh, face screwing up as he speaks. You flick the cigarette onto the pavement and fiddle with the Pip-Boy you’ve got on your passenger seat. He’s surprised not to see it on your wrist, most Vault-Tec people treat it like a fifth limb.
You screw around with it for a minute before you finally look back up at him. “We can make it, get her out here.” You toss the Pip-Boy in the back and place your hands on the wheel. You give him an expectant look and he realizes you’re not gonna let him argue with you about this.
“Aren’t I your boss, darling?”
You scoff, tone sardonic, “Sure, Mr. Howard.” He sighs and finally heads back inside. Janey is more than happy to ride along with you. Cooper less so. You seem keen on breaking every damn speeding law to get him to work on time. He’s not sure he trusts his life in your reckless hands.
You peel into Janey’s school, practically kick her out of the car, and then you’re off again. “You can slow down, you know.”
You glance over at him, a sly smirk on your lips. “I’m not making you sick, am I?”
He eases up his grip on the door handle and shakes his head. “I’ve worn a power suit, sweetheart, not much can make me carsick.”
You shrug, “Good, then I think I’ll keep going like this.” He shakes his head, slightly miffed by the insubordination, slightly impressed. It’s nice to have someone who treats him like he’s just another regular Joe.
Most of his former assistants kissed the ground he walked on and were terrified to say one word against him. It gets tiring after a while, that sort of behavior. He’s seen plenty of his costars let it get to their heads and turn into someone egotistical and vile to be around. He doesn’t want to turn out like that.
He’s never wanted the fame to twist him into something he isn’t. He has a feeling you don’t let many people walk over you. You also don’t seem to have a problem with being assertive. It’s odd, these behaviors in someone in a position of subordinance.
Makes him wonder if being an assistant is your actual job, or if Bud had demoted you for some other odd reason.
“I really don’t want to intrude.”
Cooper waves you off and shakes his head, “Not at all. I’m inviting you, honey.” You sigh and grit your teeth. You know what you’re supposed to say. You’re supposed to thank him and accept the invitation to dinner.
But being with him everyday for the past few weeks has made it nearly impossible to keep this up. He’s an incredible man, kind and honest to a fault. He’s got such strong principles, to be openly manipulating those against him makes you sick to your stomach.
You thought you would be able to do this. So many times in your life you’d heard never to meet your heroes. You figured Cooper would be like every other pretentious asshole in Hollywood and you would have no problem lying to his face.
But he is so much more than that. He’s so much better than the people you work with and for, so much better than you.
Still, a job is a job. You don’t do this and you’ll be kicked out of Bud’s program and left out with the rest of civilization to burn up when the fallout begins.
You reason with yourself that by doing this you’re also ensuring Cooper’s safety. As long as he believes in Vaut-Tec, in you, he’ll have a place at the end of the world.
It doesn’t make you feel any better.
“Thank you, I’d love to join you.”
He grins at you and walks off to wrap up his last scene of the day. You let out a long breath, slumping against the concession table and rubbing at your forehead. You’re losing sleep over all of this. Your nails are brittle, hair splitting, and health declining with the amount of anxiety and guilt you’ve been carrying around.
Despite your resolve mentally, you’re really not sure how much longer you can go on like this physically. You’ve always been a horrible liar, especially when you’re lying to people you care about. You should have gotten an Oscar for getting this far with him.
The drive to Cooper’s home that night is silent. To punish yourself, you don’t turn on the radio and force yourself to wallow in self hatred the whole way there. You berate yourself and come up with about five different reasons to get yourself out of being his assistant.
But when you knock on the door and see his smiling face you can’t force a word out. He’s so handsome, cleaned up and his hair slicked back. You could get lost in his eyes when he speaks to you. You force yourself to keep your mouth shut and just eat dinner with him.
Barb keeps sending you appreciative smiles all throughout dinner and you want to stab your fork through her hand. You might be a horrible person for lying to him, but she has to be the worst damn wife you’ve ever met. She claims to be in love with Cooper, to care about him, but the way she manipulates him goes against that.
You don’t get to claim to love someone and then treat them like that. She won’t even let him take Roosevelt! You know for a fact that animals can go into certain vaults, she just hates that dog.
“I have to be a good man gone bad in this one.” Cooper explains to Barb. She’d asked after the latest script changes but she didn’t seem wholly interested as she messed with her Pip-Boy. “I don’t really like it, I’m meant to be a sheriff, not a cold-blooded killer.”
Barb scoffs and shakes her head, “Even good men have to make bad decisions, Cooper.”
Cooper straightens up and glares at her. At his silence she finally looks up, her face quickly becoming guarded at the look on his. “Not all of them,” he argues, voice soft. You and Janey glance between the two of them, this goes beyond a simple script change.
“Well,” Barb goes back to cutting her steak, shaking her head at him, “that’s a very naive way of looking at the world.” She gives him a sharp smile, her eyes empty and cold.
You’re grateful when Janey passes a piece of broccoli to Roosevelt and the both of them are snapped out of their pseudo argument. Barb snaps at the dog and Cooper laughs, you shrink into your chair, wishing to be anywhere else.
When dinner is over, you clean up while Cooper and Barb put Janey to bed. You slide open the door to the backyard and tug a cigarette out of your case. You dig around in your bag for a while, nearly breaking down when you can’t find your lighter.
“Need this?” Fire sparks up before you and Cooper grins as he holds his lighter out. You smile in relief and thank him, sparking up the end and taking a deep inhale. You feel yourself relax slightly, easing off of the meltdown you were about to have.
Little things keep seeming to build and build on top of you. You’re hanging on by a very thin thread and you’re worried about what’s going to happen when it snaps. “You alright, sweetheart?” He seems genuinely concerned and you can’t even look at him anymore.
You take a seat and nod, focusing instead on the stars above you. He’s further out from civilization, he’s got a better view of the night sky than you do from your crowded apartment. “Just been a little stressed out lately.”
He sits beside you and reaches over, his hand lands on your thigh and he squeezes. It lasts less than a second, it’s clearly meant to comfort you but it sets your body on fire and you turn away from him slightly. He frowns, an apologetic look on his face and he backs off.
You can’t find it in yourself to feel guilty. You don’t need to start being attracted to him on top of lying to him. Not when you just scorned Barb for the exact same thing. “I hope I haven’t been adding to that.”
You look over at him and shake your head, “Not at all,” you’re the only reason I’m like this.
He seems to catch onto what you’re not saying. He might not know exactly why he’s stressing you out, but he’s more perceptive than others give him credit for. Still, he doesn’t say anything. He just nods and takes a swig from the glass of whiskey resting in his lap.
“Sorry about earlier.”
“What?” He sighs, giving you a look that tells you not to bother playing dumb. You shrug, “Wasn’t the worst fight I’ve ever had to watch.”
He shakes his head and runs a tired hand over his face. “It wasn’t even a fight. That’s what bothers me, she says these little things and sometimes it just goes right over my head.”
You find yourself speaking before you can stop yourself, “It’s only later that you realize she was being cruel.”
He looks over at you and nods. His head tilts in confusion, “You know what I’m talking about?”
You nod, puffing on the cigarette between your fingers before you continue. You feel yourself starting to ease up again, your shoulders finally lowering from their place next to your ears. “Yeah, I’ve got a long list of ex’s like that.” Your mouth snaps closed when you realize what you said.
You probably shouldn’t be saying ex to the man you’re trying to keep with his wife. But he doesn’t get upset, he only sighs. The sound is resigned, like you’re only confirming something he already knew to be true.
“You don’t seem very happy,” Cooper glanced over his shoulder and spotted you. You had your heels in your hand, making your way across his back deck to stand next to him at the pool. You drop the heels on one of his lawn chairs and sit down to dip your legs in the pool.
He stays standing, staring down at you. You look up and offer him a tired grin. You must have been about as sick of this as he was. After a minute he finally sat down beside you. “Can’t say I’m pleased to have all these people in my house.”
You both glanced back at the party. Dozens of Vault-Tec employees streamed in and out of his living room, their voices carrying, even back to where you and Cooper were hidden away. He hated this, feeling out of place in his home.
“None of your friend’s wanted to come?” You glance over at him, a concerned look on your face. He appreciates it, your concern for his comfort, especially considering Barb doesn't seem to care for it at all. She hadn’t asked if he was okay with this, or comfortable with this wrap party. She’d simply gone ahead with it and then sprung it on him.
“Seb was here a while ago but he left.” He scoffed and threw back the rest of his drink. “Can’t say I blame him, if it wasn’t my house I would have left hours ago.”
You shrugs, “Let’s go.” You’re staring at him, eyes wide and earnest like it’s the simplest solution in the world.
He laughs, more surprised than anything, “What?”
You stand up, tugging your heels back on and holding a hand out to him. “Let’s leave. I can’t say I’m very happy to be here either.”
He argues, “These are your coworkers, sweetheart.” But he still takes your hand, getting back to his feet and letting you lead him through his back gate. You tug your keys out of your purse, sliding into your little convertible and giving him an eager smile while you wait for him to follow.
“They're a bunch of vultures, Coop. Let’s just get out of here.” Hearing you use his nickname affects him more than he wants it too. Affection has been few and far between at the house lately, he finds himself leaning into it when you offer it more than he should.
Things are tense between Barb and himself, but he’s still a married man. He shouldn’t get so happy when you call him Coop. And he really shouldn’t be leaving his wife behind at this ridiculous fucking party and getting in your car. But he finds himself going against his better knowledge and following anyway.
He doesn't ask where you’re taking him. He doesn’t even care, he just wants to be near you. You’re kind, you don’t judge him. You leave him feeling a little weightless everytime you snap one of your witty little retorts at him. He’s charmed by you, more than he should be, but he can’t bring himself to be bothered by it.
You’re eating shitty junk food and sipping on Nuka-Cola’s in the back of your convertible. Cooper kind of feels like a teenager again. It’s been a long time since he’s had some decent greasy burgers. Barb doesn’t like bringing fast food into the house and it’s been a while since he and Janey have snuck some on the way home from school.
You’ve parked your car in the desolate parking lot of the closed shopping center. You’re both quiet, staring up at the stars or the bright flashing billboards across from you. Cooper glances over at you and curiosity gets the better of him.
“How’d you end up working for Vault-Tec?” You give him a questioning look and he shrugs, taking a sip from his bottle. “Just doesn’t seem like your sort of company.” You seem too kind for them, too compassionate.
“I, um,” you chuckle, swiping away some condensation that had dripped onto your bare thigh and Cooper follows the movement lazily. “I got swept up in the war time efforts. There were a bunch of campaigns to get women to start assisting during the war.” You rolled your eyes and laughed, “The Nuka-Cola girl roped me in with her patriotism and I found myself at a plant assembling your power suits.”
Cooper’s shoulders tense up and he has to fight off a nasty retort. You catch his gaze and flinch away from it slightly. He doesn’t blame you for all the faulty defects in those suits, but he’d watched good men and women die on the frontlines because of those damn things. It’s hard not to get angry when they’re mentioned, especially because they’d told them the suits weren’t safe. The government forced them into them anyway.
”I know, there were a lot of defects. A lot of people died because of those suits. That’s how Bud discovered me actually, I raised hell with my supervisor. I tried to get them to fix the issue or just stop manufacturing them. We were wasting good supplies on death traps.”
You shook your head and sighed, “It didn’t matter what I said. They never stopped making them. But, Bud, liked my fire. He thought it showed good leadership skills that I was so willing to stand up for what I belived in. He took me to Vault-Tec when he left the suits behind.” You took in a deep shuddering breath, for a moment Cooper could swear he saw tears in your eyes. “I always seem to work for the wrong side.”
He’d been reaching out, hoping to offer some comfort, when his hand stopped. It dropped back down to his side and he glared at you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Your eyes widened and you froze, seemingly caught off guard. “What?”
“‘I always seem to work for the wrong side.’ What’s that supposed to mean, sweetheart?” Is this it? The confirmation that he’s been looking for that his fears weren’t unfounded. Had you known this whole time he’d been fighting with Barb and not told him?
He didn't want to believe it. He couldn’t believe it. How twisted had his life become that he was putting more faith into you, practically a stranger, than his own wife.
You shook your head, a frown appearing on your lips and eyes boring angrily into his. “That’s not what I said.”
His mouth opened in shock, not quite sure he was hearing you properly. “What? Yes, it is.”
“Cooper,” you snapped, his name sounding harsh for the first time. You’d always spoken so sweetly to him, he couldn’t understand where this was coming from. “That’s not what I said, what is your problem?”
Could he have misheard you? You’d never gotten mad at him before. You would only be acting like this if he really was wrong. He sighed, figuring he should just drop it before he made things worse. “Sorry, sweetheart.”
Your eyes softened and you reached out, giving his hand a quick squeeze. “It’s alright. Let’s just enjoy tonight.” He nodded, leaning closer towards you while you reached forward to turn the radio on. Despite the both of you knowing it was a bad idea, you rested your head against him. Snuggled up together and watching the stars, he could get used to this.
You hear your name, rushed and bordering on a shout. You whip around, frowning when you see Cooper barreling towards you. He reaches you, grabbing you by the elbow and dragging you into an empty office.
You’re taken aback by the aggression in his actions but you’re more concerned when you notice his eyes. They’re bloodshot and his cheeks are flushed, like he’s been crying or was trying not to. You reach up before you can think, hand cupping his cheek and ignoring the minute way he leans into it.
“Cooper? What is it? What’s wrong?”
His eyes are wild, darting all around the room like he’s waiting for someone to jump out and grab him. “It’s Barb. I put a transmitter on her Pip-Boy and I heard her in her meeting. She’s talking about starting the nuclear war, she’s going to fucking kill everyone.” You step back from him, arms dropping to your sides.
“Cooper,” his name is a barely heard whisper. “Why did you have to dig?” It’s over. You knew this was coming. Cooper was too smart not to start digging on his own, even without your reassurances. You’d only delayed the inevitable and hurt yourself in the process. Hurt him.
He frowns and shakes his head, stepping back from you. His face moves through a hundred different emotions, faster than you can process, but you manage to catch a few of them. He’s betrayed, hurt, disgusted by the sight of you. “You knew?” The words are spit out with such venom you nearly flinch from him.
You can feel tears burning the back of your throat and you glare at him, “Why couldn’t you have left it alone?” It’s misplaced anger, you know. You’re mad at yourself for getting involved in this, for dragging him down with you. You’re mad at Barb and Bud and all the fucked up corporations you keep finding yourself employed by. But the anger strikes out at him and you regret it immediately.
“You knew!” It’s not a question anymore, it’s a realization. He shakes his head and he almost looks more hurt than when he discovered Barb. “You’re fucking sick, all of you!” He’s out the door and down the hall before you have a chance to stop him.
You sink back against the wall, wiping at tears that won’t stop coming. Betty finds you, she takes one look at you and then a dissapearingCooper before she’s dragging you into Barb’s office. “You need to wait here for them.”
You don’t argue, there’s no point. You’d failed in your mission and Cooper was beyond Barb’s grasp. Maybe it was for the better, that he got away from her while he could. Dying rather than being trapped in a vault with her might be a better ending for him.
You can’t get that look of his out of your mind, not even while Barb berates you. She nearly fires you, but Bud stops her. She storms out of her office and you just keep replaying that moment with Cooper. You could have played along with him, never let him know you knew about Vault-Tec and just run away with him.
But the thought of living the rest of your short life lying to him makes you sick to your stomach.
Bud calls your name for the inth time and grabs your shoulders. You snap your gaze up to his, finally noticing that he’s been kneeling in front of you this whole time. ”You have to go in early.”
You shake your head dumbly, not understanding what he’s saying. He frowns, eyes desperate and he keeps glancing over his shoulder. “Barb is livid. She wants you gone. We’re gonna have to send you down early.”
“You mean…” you trail off, mind going blank at the thought of being put into cryo months before you were prepared to. You want to argue with him and tell him you need more time. Thoughts of going after Cooper and trying to make him see reason float through your brain.
He seems to track your train of thought because he shakes his head. “We can’t delay this. You go now or you don’t go at all.”
You hadn’t realized just how much Bud seemed to care for you until this moment. The sheer determination on his face that he wouldn’t let Barb bury you would have made you sentimental were it not for the current gut wrenching feeling of heartbreak you were experiencing.
He stands up and glances over at Betty. The worry slowly disappears as a plan starts to formulate within him. “Betty will take her car and get you to the vault, I’ll have people there ready to take you in.” He grabs your arm and yanks you out of your chair. “You need to leave now, before Barb comes back with security.”
He and Betty share a look over your shoulder before she nods. She grabs your elbow from Bud and marches you down the hall. You’re barely present for the walk through the hallways of Vault-Tec. You don’t have time to take in the world around you, appreciate the beauty before it’s gone.
You’re numb. Stuck in a limbo and paralysis of your own creation. When you make it to the vault, Betty leaves you there to be taken in by the guards. They lead you to Vault 31 and march you down the long hall until you reach your cryo pod.
You don’t know when you’ll be released, what the world will be like when you come back out. But you know Cooper will be gone and there'll be nothing left for you.
You step into the pod and let your eyes slowly drift closed.
Your pod pops open with a hiss and your head lolls to the side. There’s an odd buzzing noise before you but you can’t see much of anything. “It will take a minute for your eyes to adjust.”
Your brows furrow as you place the voice, “Bud?” Your hands grope blindly through the dark for the edge of your pod. Your eyes begin to thaw, vague shapes and colors making themselves clear to you first. “If you’re here, how long have I been asleep?”
Odd, you can’t make out his form anywhere, but it sounds like he’s right in front of you. You step down and there’s a loud buzz, like wheels rolling across metal. “Watch out!” You tilt your head in confusion, blinking the rest of the frost out of your eyes and gasping when you see what’s in front of you.
A brain on a fucking vacuum. “Bud!” You shout, completely caught off guard by this new look of his.
He sighs, the sound robotic and staticky. “Yes, it’s me. It’s the only way I could stay alive to monitor the success of my vaults.” Even just as a brain, you can still hear the pride in his voice, “I am proud to say that we have been most successful these past two hundred and thirteen years.”
You can’t respond, winded by how long it’s been since you’ve been asleep. Everything you’ve ever known was gone. Officially.
Your mind drifts to Cooper but you stop it before it gets too far. Even before he found out about your role in Vault-Tec, you were never going to be in the same vault as him. No matter what, the two of you would never have seen each other again.
There’s no reason to mourn him now.
Bud rolls in front of you, leading you to the door of the vault. “Hank MacLean and Betty will be here to greet you. You’ll be a part of the Triennal trade, your official entry into vault 33.” He’s rapidly firing off information faster than you can keep up.
You know the protocols, they were drilled into you long before you came down here. For every one of Bud’s Buds they had to marry their way into the vault they were entering. You just prayed Hank was kind enough to give you someone nice to marry, maybe even tall.
The vault’s door is rolling open before you get a chance to prepare yourself. Ten smiling faces stare eagerly at you, you offer them tentative looks. You search among them for Betty and Hank, it takes you a moment to recognize them. To realize that the two old people at the front are Hank and Betty.
They’d been out much longer than you had if the wrinkles were anything to go by.
“Welcome to vault 33!” A big eyed girl shouts at you from behind Hank. You offer her a shaky smile, racking your brain for what you’re supposed to say.
“Thank you,” the words are stilted and you wince internally. “In honor of your welcoming, my vault has sent ahead supplies and crops. My overseer apologizes for not being here to greet you all, but I’m happy to be here!” The words sound scripted, more than you would like.
Betty picks up on your discomfort and ushers you forward. “Come on, you should meet your husband.” You shoot her a scared look but the face she gives you shuts you down. There’s no backing out of this, as much as you might want to. This is your reality now.
“Norm, meet your new bride.”
Well, he’s certainly not tall.
“I still can’t believe you're not pregnant.” You hand Lucy a wrench and she frowns from her place on the floor. She pauses in her repairs of the pipes for a moment to pester you further. “Have you had the doctors check my brother’s sperm count?”
“Lucy!” You admonish, glaring down at her. She shrugs, not finding any fault in the question. You don’t have the heart to tell her that in the three years you’ve been married to her brother you’ve only had sex once.
It was your wedding night, extremely awkward and unpleasant for both of you. Norm wasn’t the type to just easily trust someone he didn’t know and you were still nursing a heartbreak he could never comprehend. He wasn’t a bad husband, he was actually amazing.
You two just seemed to work better as partners rather than husband and wife. You both kept your nightly activities, or lack thereof, to yourselves. It wasn’t exactly smiled upon to not be actively trying to repopulate the earth. But the extremely personal questions about your husband’s sperm and your fertility were beyond annoying.
Still, everytime you even consider trying again with him you think of Cooper and want to cry. “His sperm count is fine. It just takes longer for some couples.” She doesn’t seem like she wants to let it go, but you force her to by shoving her back towards the broken pipe.
You know she’s only been bugging you about it because her time in the trade is coming up. She’s just worried that her relationship will be like yours and Norm’s. She wants kids in a way you can’t bring yourself to and she’s worried her fertility takes after her brother’s.
You understand the fear, but if she asks you one more damn time you’re going to clock her over the head with a hammer. Steph comes up to you both and gives you a placating smile. She must see the murder on your face because she offers to distract Lucy.
You thank her and storm off back to your housing unit. Norm, thankfully, isn’t home when you get there. He’s too perceptive for his own good sometimes. You don’t think you’re mentally there enough to try and lie to him about why you’re upset today.
You decide to just call it a day. You’ll go to bed and when you get up, it will be time for Lucy’s wedding. You can just look forward to that and ignore the issues within your own marriage.
You clutch your bleeding stomach while Norm grabs you and drags you under a picnic table. You both watch in stunned, traumatized, silence as your fellow vault dwellers are slaughtered all around you. Norm’s hand is gripping yours so tight you can feel your bones grinding together but you can’t point it out.
A raider shoots at Bob, the kind old man who would slip you extra jello, and his blood splatters into your open mouth. It’s only a shoulder shot, he could live. But the raider is pulling out his machete and charging towards him. You make to leap out from under the table but Norm yanks you back.
“Norm!” You hiss, but he just shakes his head. Your eyes widen in disbelief, you can’t believe him. Sitting here and watching your friends just die. You could help, you can’t just sit here. You yank your hand out of his and charge out from under the table.
Your arms wrap around the raider’s waist and you both go flying. He lands on top of the wedding cake, frosting smearing across his bald head. You wrestle for his machete, eventually ripping it out of his hand. You thrust it up into his chest and he falls limp on top of you.
You grunt at the impact, slipping on top of Lucy’s ruined cake while you roll him off. Lucy storms down the stairs, holding onto a wound matching yours. She offers you her hand and helps you to your feet. “Norm?” She questions, eyes watering and desperate. You point to where he still sits under the table.
Across from you Steph grabs a gun and starts mowing down raiders left and right. You’re bending over for the raider’s machete when someone knocks into you from behind. You fall forward, head snapping against the concrete and vision going black.
You don’t know how that horrible beginning with Cooper Howard started. When exactly you began to fall for him among your betrayal. But you know how it ends. It ends with you following Lucy MacLean out into the brightness of the Wastelands. It ends with his death and the Ghoul’s birth.
end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
I’m not sure if I’ve put this in my last few posts or not. But, all of my dividers are the creation of @saradika-graphics (give her some love bc she’s amazing)
More Posts from Not-neverland06 and Others
obsessed with the new chapter like it’s actually so amazing. tho i am nervous since the end of the fic is near. so happy she got to shoot cooper he deserved it for shooting her twice then ditching her. also feel better soon
The end of the series is approaching and I’m also freaking out bc I’ve gotten so attached to this story. I was so happy to shoot him, I’ve been wanting to do that since chapter three lol
Thanks for the well wishes but I feel like I might write better fever ridden lmao
Hii ! I was hoping you could do Logan x Reader where all the teachers go to a club, and the Reader starts dancing with Storm and Jean while Logan is sitting on a couch, looking at her. They both have a crush on each other, but they don't know it, so when the Reader notices Logan staring at her, she gets shy and decides to go get a drink. When she got her drink, a guy starts flirting with her, and Logan obviously sees it. he gets jealous and walks up to the guy telling him to leave her alone. After they talk for a bit, the Reader accidentally confesses and Logan kisses her. this ends up in a private room with Logan fucking her as he always wanted. I know this is a long request and I'm sorry for that, bue I'm a writer myself, so I already had develop this bit of the story in my head. I completely understand if you don't want to do it. Hope you have an awesome day !!🤗❤️ Love your writing btw
a/n: I loved this prompt so much, did switch it up a bit bc I faced a bit of writer's block trying to flesh this out!! (and if I said I was listening to Thong Song while writing this, what then?)
18+ MDNI (fucking in a club bathroom, if that's not your thing, move on out)
Logan rummages around somewhere behind you, digging through the cabinets and moving everything around. The longer he searches, the more confused you grow. Your brows furrow as he cusses to himself.
There’s a low grunt of frustration as Logan rounds the kitchen island to glare at you. His face is screwed up in anger that seems to be misdirected towards you. You give him an awkward look, “Uh, hi?”
“He stole my booze,” he responds shortly and without explanation. You shake your head in confusion as the dots slowly connect. A small smile curls up on your lips but the glare he gives you makes it quickly drop.
“Well, you know Charles' rules about it,” you tell him flippantly. Logan huffs and shoves away from the counter. He turns back to the fridge, destroying the organizational system as he continues his search. You roll your eyes, eating your food and watching him with a bored expression.
Jean walks just as he really begins to work himself up. Her face pinches in distaste, catching on to the root of his anger quicker than you had. She looks at you with a small smirk. “Charles?”
“Yep," You answer, eyes still trained on him. He finally gives up the futile search, moving to stand beside you. Your eyes widen and you try not to physically react to his proximity. It’s an everyday struggle to remain calm around him. You’re desperately trying to keep a cool girl persona but you don’t think it's working.
You’re pretty sure he sees right through your pathetic attempts at nonchalance every time you two are paired on a mission. Jean notices the look on your face and smiles slightly. “The rest of us are thinking of going out tonight.”
It's not an offer with her, more of a demand for the two least sociable members of the team. She gives you both expectant looks, ignoring the way you minutely shake your head in disapproval at the idea of going out.
“Pass,” Logan grunts. He steps away from you, making for the kitchen door. Jean quickly steps in front of him, firmly placing her hand on his chest and giving him a stern look.
You feel like you're missing something as they silently converse with tense looks and aggressive eye motions towards you. You might be worried they're flirting if it weren't for how fed up they both look right now with one another.
Your brows furrow in confusion and it only worsens when Logan lets out an aggrieved huff. “Fine. I’ll come.” He gives Jean a thin smile, “Happy?”
She releases him and moves out of the way with a smug look. “Very. You’ll thank me, by the way.” She says to his retreating back, ignoring whatever he mutters back to her.
You’re completely lost about what that was but don't have much time to process it before Jean turns her attention to you. You already know what she wants and you immediately shake your head. “No, nope, you know I don’t like going out.” Jean smiles at you, but you know she’s just pretending to agree with you.
“Jean,” your voice is sharp as you glare at her. “Not happening.”
You really regret ever befriending her. She’s either ridiculously persuasive or she's used her mind-warping abilities on you.
You're squished between Ororo and Logan on a sticky club booth. The smell of booze and cheap perfume soaks through your senses. You feel the beginnings of a headache forming as the music pounds.
While you love the feeling of Logan's biceps pushed up against you, you hate the club more. Storm catches the tense look on your face and sighs in disappointment.
"We need to get some more alcohol in you," she tells you with a faux sense of authority. "Come on," she nods her head and for a moment you think she's talking to you. But, with a move that seems practiced, Scott and Jean both follow her out of the booth and head toward the bar.
You watch them go with a suspicious glint in your eye, not trusting how smoothly they all just conveniently slipped away. That leaves just you and Logan behind at the table and you doubt that's coincidental.
They've been a little pushy about this crush of yours ever since they found out. They insist that he feels the same way about you as you do him. But you sincerely doubt he's fantasizing about going on romantic picnics with you and thinking of mushy dates.
He seems like the kind of guy to value silence over a girlfriend and you doubt you're his type. You don't tend to stray from the rules, ever. You don't think there's much you two have in common, as much as the others insist the opposite.
You give him a subtle look over. He hasn't moved away from you, which seems like a good sign. There's plenty of space for him to go now, but he keeps himself pressed up against you.
But, he's also not looking at you. His thumb is idly tracing the rim of his glass and he's refusing to take his eyes off the stained wood of the table. You know he can feel the way you're staring at him, but he's stubbornly refusing to acknowledge your presence. It almost feels petty and that makes you scoff and roll your eyes at the thought. You doubt Logan cares enough to be petty.
Practically in love with me, you think sarcastically.
You know your friends are taking longer than necessary at the bar, trying to give the two of you some privacy. You feel like a high school girl, trying to get the cool guy to like her when he literally couldn’t give two shits.
Your friends being pushy about the two of you really isn't helping anything. It only gives you false hope, and when he's inevitably a jerk again, it just makes all your little fantasies come crashing down.
You pick up your glass, tipping your head back and letting the alcohol warm you from the inside out. You've done your hair, spent forever doing your makeup, and you put on your favorite slutty dress. You don't feel like sitting here all night sulking alongside your unrequited crush.
More often than not, Logan is nothing more than a wet blanket. You've put in the effort and dragged yourself outside for once, you'd like to enjoy the experience. He could come find you when he felt like pulling the stick out of his ass. You slide out of the booth with a huff, uncaring as the hem of your dress rolls up your thighs.
“Where’re you going?” Logan demands, voice gruff. Now he wants to pay attention, figures.
You turn around and glare down at him. His eyes rove slowly over you, the way they should have been all night. His gaze is a physical caress and his stare lingers along your body. You can practically feel his touch on the curves of your hips. Slowly, he looks back up to meet your eye, something like a challenge on his face.
You assess him, raising a brow and shrugging. “I’m gonna dance.” Something has possessed you or there’s a very talented telepath manipulating you right now. In a rare display of confidence you lean over the table, breasts pushed out towards him. “Wanna join me?” You ask, breath barely above a whisper.
He scoffs and goes back to glaring at the table. Whatever confidence you had settles coldly in the bottom of your gut. “Not my thing, kid,” he gripes, every bit the crotchety old man.
You roll your eyes, playing off the sting of rejection as an annoyance. “Of course, you’re not. You’re not having fun unless everyone else is miserable,” you snap. His eyes shoot up to meet yours, something like shock playing on his face.
You don’t let him respond, already turning on your heel and walking off. As much as you like Logan, sometimes this attitude of his becomes tiring. What’s wrong with wanting to have fun for a night?
You’re not usually a huge fan of clubs. But when you’re out with your friends, you’re not going to actively ruin their night. As rude as that was, it’s right. He’s the “cool” kid in high school who thought everything was lame and never wanted to enjoy anything.
So, what? You like to get a little drunk and sloppy sometimes, maybe if he ever tried it he might be less miserable. You head towards the bar, spotting Ororo’s hair easily through the crowd. You slide behind her, slipping your arm over her shoulder, “Hey pretty,” you whisper in her ear, laughing as she jumps.
She turns and glares at you, swatting at your shoulder. “You’re lucky I didn’t hurt you.”
“Ooh, save it for later.” She rolls her eyes and passes you a shot. You take it with a smile, wincing at the burn of the tequila. “You wanna dance?” You have to shout to be heard over the music but you know she hears you when her eyes widen in surprise.
She glances behind you and you don’t have to look to know Logan is glaring daggers at your back. You can feel him and it's pissing you off. “What happened?” You know she can tell something is up, you’re never this outgoing when you go out. But you don’t want to talk about finally coming to terms with the fact that you and Logan aren’t going to work out.
Instead, you hold your hand out and wink. “Wanna dance or not?” She laughs a little, slipping her palm into yours and letting you drag her out onto the dance floor. It’s been a while since you’ve actually been sober dancing. You usually like to be near blackout drunk, but you just don’t have the energy for that tonight.
Ororo is a little tipsier than you, clearly having been drinking while she was waiting at the bar. Her inhibitions are looser and she’s giggling as you move your hips against hers. Neither of you is dancing to impress, you’re messily moving around each other to the beat of the music. You don’t pay attention to the people around you, just having fun by yourselves.
Ororo takes your hand, spinning you a little and pulling you back into her arms. You laugh, swaying your hips to the same rhythm she is, chests pressed tightly together while you smile at each other.
She only lasts a few songs before she pulls back. “I need a drink,” she yells before stumbling back towards the bar. You feel yourself deflate, not sure what to do with yourself now that your favorite dancing partner has ditched you.
You look through the mass of grinding bodies and try and spot your table. You can’t see much through the brightly colored lights spinning all around you. Everything’s a little disorienting and the shots you’ve had aren’t helping.
Someone’s hand slips around your waist, “Your friend left you all alone?” Normally, you’d push whoever it was off and tell them to back off. But he’s got an attractive voice and you can feel how fit he is against your back.
“You gonna keep me company?” You tease, voice a low purr as you push back against him. Your hands drift down to his arms, pulling them a little tighter around your waist. He chuckles, the noise reverberating through your back.
You barely even get a chance to dance before your back is cold and you can feel his arms forcibly ripped off you. It doesn’t take much digging to find the culprit. Logan is behind you, hand fisted in the guy’s collar, “Why don’t you back off, bub?” He shoves him back and you roll your eyes as the guy scrambles off.
“What the hell was that?” You demand arms crossed as you glare at Logan.
He turns around and you’re surprised at the intensity of his glare. Something about it has you heated for an entirely different reason. He’s staring down at you like he’s gonna pounce on you. Your heart races, thighs clenching the longer he’s glowering at you.
He shouldn’t be allowed to be so attractive when he’s pissed off. He reaches forward, grabbing your bicep and jerking you into his chest. He leans down until his lips are brushing against your ear. “You wanna dance, let’s dance, kid.”
“What-”
He cuts you off, flipping you around and pulling your back flush against him. You can feel just how much your little show with Storm got him going. You truly weren’t doing anything too alluring, but it seems to be enough for him.
When you don’t move his hands drop to your hips and he grinds them down against him. “Logan,” you gasp his name out, caught off guard by how brazen he’s being in the middle of the club. There are people around you doing much worse but you’ve never known him to be this bold before.
“You trying to make me jealous?” It’s hard to pay attention to what he’s saying, to focus on anything at all when his hand is drifting steadily down your body. The tips of his fingers just barely brush the skin of your thigh while his thumb lets the hem of your dress curl up.
He flips you around, taking his hands off of you and instead tilting your chin up to face him. “I said,” he repeats in a condescending tone, “were you trying to make me jealous?” He doesn’t sound like he’s taking you seriously. Even if that was your intention, he thinks it’s just your petty way of lashing out at him for not dancing.
You narrow your eyes at him and swat his hands off of you. “No. I wasn’t trying to make you jealous. I was trying to have some fun since you’re clearly not interested at all.”
That insufferable smirk of his doesn’t go away for a minute. If anything, he’s more incensed by your anger. “Who said I wasn’t interested?” Your lips part, another dumb little noise about to slip out when he dips down and stops you.
He’s not trying to be subtle at all, gripping your dress and tugging you up against him while your lips lock. His tongue dips briefly into your mouth, savoring the taste of tequila on your gums before he pulls back.
“I’m interested in you, kid, just not this shitty little club.” Your mouth is gaping and you feel like a fool, standing there and just staring at him. Your brain is completely scrambled, bits and pieces forming together to scream that he kissed you. Too many things are happening at once. The music is making the floor beneath you vibrate, liquor is warming you from the inside out and tilting you closer to him. And he kissed you. Your lips are still tingling from it.
He chuckles a little under his breath, keeping you moving steadily against him. You’re simply something to be puppeteered by your desire for him. No thoughts linger inside your brain except his name. “You’re interested in me?” You repeat dumbly.
He leans down, tilting his lips closer towards your ear. “You can’t feel how much I want you?” One of your thighs is practically draped over his leg and he’s grinding his hips against you. The only thing you can feel is him. The smell of his cologne overpowers all the bodies surrounding you both, his voice drones out the loud music around you. You’re completely consumed by him.
“Logan,” your tone is scandalized, you can’t believe he’s bold enough to have you nearly half-naked on his lap right now. Your butt is one wrong move away from being the club’s newest attraction. Yet, despite every protest lingering on your tongue, you can’t do anything except kiss him again.
You don’t know if the moment is all one vivid wet dream your brain has conjured up at three am and you don’t feel like finding out. You want to enjoy being risky for once. You always play everything so safely. You don’t confess your feelings to Logan so you aren’t rejected. You never break the rules, you never act out. Just once, you want to do something bad and enjoy it.
Your arms twine around his neck and you tilt your head to deepen the kiss further. You feel his reaction more than you hear it. A low grumble in his chest that has you practically vibrating with want. He pulls away from you first and it takes a moment for your eyes to flutter back open.
When you finally do meet his gaze again, he’s got nothing but a smoldering desire in his eyes that makes you want to melt. He’s staring you down like you’re prey to be chased and consumed. “Can’t do this here,” he mutters.
You’re almost shocked that he’s the first one to cut this off. You knew it was going to happen, you can’t exactly fuck in the middle of the dance floor. As much as you might want to. But you thought you would be the one to chicken out.
He grabs your hand and shoves through the throng of grinding bodies. You grab the back of his shirt, stumbling after him and trying to stay close. “As much as I’d like to make that poor son of a bitch watch me fuck you, we need a little more privacy.”
It takes you a moment to realize he’s talking about the man you’d danced with earlier. If you could even qualify that as dancing. He’d barely put his hand on your waist before Logan had appeared out of nowhere.
Your eyes narrow in suspicion and you glare at his back. How had he even gotten to you so quickly? He must have been watching you like a creep the whole time. You almost want to laugh at the thought. But you’re distracted by him nudging you through a door and locking it behind you.
You glance around, spotting three sinks and some cracked mirrors. Toilet stalls linger to your right and your nose wrinkles in disgust. You turn around to complain but he’s already stalking toward you. Whatever sanitary complaints were lingering in the back of your throat are thrown out the sealed bathroom window.
He buries his hands in your hair, ruining the meticulously placed style. You arch into his hold, opening your mouth for him to explore and gasping as his hand drops to your hips. He tugs you closer, ripping your dress up and yanking your underwear down in one smooth move.
You barely have a second to process half of what’s happening before he’s got you bent over the sink. It’s all happening so fast, so many different desires of yours surging to the surface in one dingy club bathroom.
You’re slick with months of fantasies and sleepless nights where not even your vibrator could curb your desire for him. You hear his belt clink behind you and your back arches like a cat in heat. You practically present yourself to him, so desperate to feel him that you don’t care how much of a slut you’re being.
You know, if this was anyone else, you’d slap them for even suggesting the bathroom as the first place you have sex. But you’d have let Logan take you in the alley behind the club. You don’t care where you are, just so long as it's with him. And you know that desire runs a bit deeper than just a surface-level crush.
He doesn’t give you much warning as he thrusts into you. The breath is practically punched out of you as he fills you. Everything about it feels right. You’re so full of him you feel like you could explode. You know it’s going to take a pathetically short time for you to come. It’s just too much, too fast, you’re so overwhelmed by him.
“Oh god, Logan,” the porcelain creaks under your palms before you feel it splintering off into your skin. You can’t pay attention to it, though, jaw agape, capable of nothing more than slutty moans of his name.
He’s relentless behind you, thrusting so hard inside you that it feels like a punishment. He fists his hand in your hair and forces you to look in the mirror. “Come on, want you to see how wrecked you are. What a fucking slut you’re being for me, letting me fuck you like this in this bar.”
Your mascara is completely ruined, streaked down your face with your lipstick smeared across your chin. You look like a fucking mess and you couldn’t care less. You feel yourself fluttering around him the tighter his grip on you is. His hand slips from your hair, latching around your neck and tugging you into his chest.
He grips your chin and keeps your eyes on where the two of you are joined in the mirror. It only makes you clench tighter around him, watching as he moves in and out of you. You can see just how much of an effect you're having on him and it’s the biggest ego boost you’ve ever had in your life.
You’ve reduced him to a mess in a dirty club bathroom, so desperate for you he couldn’t even wait to take you home. He tilts his hips, hitting the spot inside you that has your eyes nearly rolling in the back of your head.
You whisper his name in warning, letting go of the sink to clutch tightly at his wrist. He wraps his arm around your waist, keeping you secured against him. His hips start to stutter, losing some of their rhythm the tighter you are around him. The feeling builds in your fingers, tingles down to the tips of your toes, and explodes in a nearly blinding pleasure. His hips are still against you, warmth filling you a moment later.
You would slump forward into the sink if it weren’t for his protective hold around your stomach. He keeps you tight against his chest for a minute, waiting for you to catch your bearings again. It takes an embarrassingly long time for the feeling in your legs to come back. You’ve never had such an intense experience like that.
You don’t know if it's from the thrill of possibly getting caught or just because you were with him. You’ve longed and lusted after Logan for so long, and finally having the real thing is a bit of shock. Especially when he exceeded your fantasies, you didn’t even know that was possible.
He props you against the sink, tugging your dress down and pulling your underwear back up. You watch him with dulled interest, still reeling from what you’ve just done. You’ve never been so bold before, it almost feels liberating to just say ‘fuck it’ and do what you want.
He pulls his own pants back up, fixing his belt and grabbing a wet paper towel for you. He’s silent as he wipes the mascara of your cheeks and you give him a questioning look. “You want the others to know what happened?”
You scoff and glance away from him, looking towards the door of the bathroom. “I’m sure they already know. Weren’t exactly subtle,” you tell him with a small smile.
He smirks, tossing the towel away and walking back towards you. He keeps his arms on either side of you, bracketing you against the sink and grinning down at you. “No, we weren’t, were we?”
You shake your head silently, lips curled up in amusement. Your eyes briefly dart to his lips before meeting his eyes once more. He catches the look with a sly smile, dipping his head down and giving you a brief kiss.
It’s short and sweet, more loving than the passionate, rip-my-clothes-off kisses from before. It feels like the type of kiss a married couple would share in the early morning when they only want to remind the other they love each other. Your proximity and the look he’s giving you feel more intimate than anything that just happened.
“You really meant it?” You muse, voice barely above a whisper as you smile at him.
“Meant what?” He mutters.
“You like me,” you tease, entangling your hand with his and tugging him even closer to you.
He gives you a confused look, glancing at the sink behind you and then back at your disheveled form. “Did I not make that clear enough, kid?”
You shake your head, “No, I think I might need another reminder,” you tell him. It takes a moment for your words to click for him. You can see when it does, he gives you a small smile and shakes his head with an aggrieved sigh like you’re bugging him.
“Really making me work for it, huh?” You nod your head playfully, dragging him down towards you and bringing him into another kiss. You can deal with the line forming outside in a minute. You can push off your nosy friends’ questions for another day. Right now, it’s just you and him, finally doing what you’ve wanted since the moment you saw him.
end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
General Taglist: @evasmlp ♡
Logan Taglist: @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte
@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl @allllium @insomniachox @izbelross ♡
Sorry, let me rephrase it. Remember how Mary Linton pleaded with Arthur to drop everything and run away? What if instead of Mary, it was reader and what if instead of pleading she just kidnaps him after begging him too many times?
It's time to finally reveal what inspired my series Hell Hath No Fury
I never posted this ask because I was worried it would reveal the ending, but then I went in a completely different direction with it lmao. I'm sorry it might not be exactly what you wanted, but your request inspired one of my most favorite series I've written ❤️
your new arthur series is SENDINNGGG me mouth DROPPED open end of ch 2 😭 amazing job!
STAWWWWP, tysm- I'm so happy to be getting back into chaptered fics. The word count is reaching novel length at this point lmao
This was actually so fun, plus I’ve always known my stubbornness would be helpful eventually
pov: you’re in a horror movie
1. create your own look here
2. find out what role you are here
I kind of love the result I got :)
no pressure tags: @foodiewithdahoodie @queereldritch @elhaspowers @gothbower @ohfallingdisco @josephandjamie @josephfakingquinn @johnsimms @cuethemulti @can-of-pringles @loki-is-my-kink-awakening @nebulousfishgills @mimisempai @thelostsisters @lokisgoodgirl @cultofsheep @onesmainbitch @jcbbby @whumpzone @catboysienna @lussiane333 @erdarielthewhumper @abitofboth @galactic-magick @llywenn @chaos-monkeyy @highwarlockofphilly (only if you feel like playing, no pressure or anything 🥰)
if I didn’t tag you and you’d love to join, please don’t hesitate to do so. I’d love to see the results you got. everybody is welcome!
Thank you so much for doing these!!
I hope this isn’t considered too specific. I read your rules and know you don’t like fic-specific asks, which isn’t what I want, but I’m not sure if you’re familiar with this fandom. Would you ever do dividers for Resident Evil: Village? Specially Karl Heisenberg, his whole thing is having metal-bending type powers. My idea was like bloody metal gears or something? Sorry if this is too vague.
Even if you don’t do this, I just want you to know how grateful I am for you creating dividers as someone who absolutely hates trying to figure out Canva.
ahh I am sorry if the wording made you nervous! It’s not that I don’t like them, it’s just that I have limited time right now, and want to make things that anyone could pick up and use 💖 and omg yes i would love to make something for him!! sorry for the delay, but I hope this captures his vibe. I used your ideas and added in the classic logo & then his crest as well!
[Free] Masterlist Headers & Dividers!
Please consider liking or reblogging if you use 💕
Too sweet by hoizer is a wolverine x reader song
you have no idea the monster you've awoken inside me
i'm gonna kiss your brain
anon probably:
Sooooooo
Why have I not seen anyone absolutely wailing over Astarion's reaction if tav is downed in battle after you've got affinity high enough for trust?
"No! You can't die, get up goddamn you!" In the most horrified voice.
Thought about letting myself get merced again on purpose just to make sure I actually heard what I heard.
I don't know why I bite
Logan howlett x fem!reader
a/n: Had Mitski’s ‘I Bet on Losing Dogs’ on a loop while writing this, now I’m sad Inspired by the isle of dogs quote “I’m not a violent dog, I don’t know why I bite” BECAUSE OUCH (they’re both toxic, fair warning) bittersweet ending Summary: You've tried for so long to get Logan to accept you the way he does the others. You want so desperately to be someone who means something to him. But he doesn't want you, maybe he never has. And you both seem to be stuck in this loop of hurting each other.
You’re stability, security, but you’re never comfort. Try as you might, you just can’t get Logan to accept you. You want to. So desperately, you want to be something good for him. But he hates you, or at the very least, he can’t stand you.
You don’t know what it is about Jean that he craves, but you wish you could replicate it. You’re not your friend, though, you never will be. And it’s pathetic, trying to change yourself to make someone else happy. You’ve never done that before. Yet, there is something about Logan that you want so desperately to help.
You clean his wounds, metaphorically because he’s never once needed anyone for that. You lift him up after a rough mission and you remind him that the team does need him. They do love him. They want him in that uniform beside them, even Scott.
You have your suspicions that he doesn’t appreciate your efforts. He’s never outright said anything to you. But you can tell the novelty of your kindness is wearing off. He used to brush your efforts off with a simple look.
But he’s begun to be mean, saying these little things that you can never completely call out. A lot of what he says is based in truth. “Do you ever stop talking?” No, you don’t. You like talking with your friends, like sharing stories, and laughing together.
“Has anyone ever told you to fuck off?” Yes, and it hurt. And it continues to hurt. “Why don’t you just shut up for once?” You can’t. You can’t because if you stop talking, if you stop distracting yourself then you’ll actually feel everything. You can’t stop talking, you can’t stop taking care of others because you cannot take care of yourself. You’re incapable of it.
You can’t say that he’s being rude or mean. He’s just being blunt, and gruff, that’s just how he is. That’s what everyone tells you. They tell you to just ignore when he’s being a dick because he doesn’t really mean it. That’s just what he does because he doesn’t know any other way.
You shouldn’t have listened. You shouldn’t have placed so much faith in others. You should have just left him alone. Maybe then he wouldn’t have snapped, wouldn’t have said such cruel things to you.
It broke you a little inside. Hearing what he really thought of you. Despite it all, despite the cruel words and harsh attitude, you had hope. You thought they were all right, that he just needed to warm up to you. And you so desperately just wanted to be something for him to lean on because you’ve never had that before and you know what it feels like to be so lonely.
“Hey, Logan.” You step into the kitchen, rooting around in the fridge for something to snack on. “Weren’t there apples in here?” You’re talking aloud, but it’s meant for yourself.
It’s that moment that it all finally comes crashing down. This pathetic illusion that he wants anything to do with you or your friendship. It almost makes you laugh, that this mundane moment is when you feel your heart shatter in your chest. When you get so sick to your stomach your bones ache and your limbs tingle with this odd phantom pain.
“Could you just shut up?” his voice is low as he leans over the counter. His fingers spin idly around the neck of a beer bottle. You wonder how he managed to sneak it in here, Charles has banned alcohol. You watch the condensation collect on the cracks of his palm and shrug the pain off.
You’re used to this. This is normal. “Right,” you squeeze past him and look in the pantry. “Sorry,” you whisper, if you speak any louder your voice will crack and that will just make everything worse.
“You’re just always around, aren’t you?” You glance over your shoulder at him but you don’t respond. Deny it as much as he wants, you have gotten to know him. You recognize the tells.
He’s had a bad day, he needs a way to get it out of his system. You just happened to walk into the kitchen at the wrong time. It could be anyone he snaps at, but today it’s you. Which seems to be happening more often.
You do what you did when you were a kid, eyes forward, face flat. You keep yourself neutral, let yourself sink into that apathetic place so whatever he yells at you doesn’t hurt. “You tiptoe around me, act like I’m this wounded stray you need to fix.”
Your brows pinch in confusion and you shake your head. Second mistake. You shouldn’t have walked into the kitchen in the first place. And you definitely shouldn’t have argued. “No, Logan, that’s not true-”
Although, maybe he has a point. You can’t fix yourself so you try and fix him.
“I don’t know why they keep you around. You contribute nothing, you do nothing for any of us. We can’t even take you out on the field,” his voice begins to raise and you find yourself backing into the cabinets, hating the way this is beginning to make you feel. “You’re so fucking sensitive we can’t trust that you won’t just kill us all if something goes wrong! You don’t deserve a spot on this team!”
You jump back as he shouts at you, hip jamming into the corner of the island so hard you have to bite your lip so you don’t make a noise. Spit flies from the corners of his mouth, the ferocity of his voice and words are that strong.
You take in a few quick breaths, blinking the sting out of your eyes and focusing on the wall behind him. “Get it through your thick fuckin’ skull,” he warns, his voice quieter now. “I don’t want you around. Leave me alone.”
You don’t cry, you can’t cry. You don’t speak because you’re afraid of what other cruelties that might provoke. Maybe you would understand all this if you’d been bugging him when he’d already made it clear he needed space. All you wanted was a fucking apple.
You don’t feel much of anything as you slowly nod your head, not agreeing but appeasing. He watches you with something like surprise on his face. You don’t know that he’s wondering why you’re not saying anything back.
It’s why he yells at you when he doesn’t know what to do. You can take it, you can put him in his place. But you’re not speaking and he doesn’t know why this time is so different.
Finally, you turn on your heel and leave, footsteps soft as you retreat back to your room. Logan watches you go with an odd twisting feeling in his stomach. He didn’t think you could be pushed too far. You seem to always just have this endless patience.
You treat him gently, even when the others get sick of the way he processes things. Today was hard, you just happened to be nearby. He didn’t mean half of what he said. He doesn’t know why he lashes out the way he does, he just doesn’t know what else to do.
He doesn’t like it, contrary to what the others think. He doesn’t like hurting you or being mean to you. He doesn’t know what it is about you that provokes this side of him that no one else does. Maybe it’s because he’s afraid. He can’t say what he’s afraid of, he’s never been able to admit it to himself.
He’s yelled at you plenty of times before. You don’t know what it is about that one day that was so different. Normally, it doesn’t bother you. You’ll set him straight or give him space. But today, it was needless. You weren’t doing anything.
You didn’t deserve to be lashed out like that, cornered and scared in the place you call home.
It was unprovoked and maybe it finally made you see him for what he really is. A bully. It doesn’t make sense, how he can be so kind and caring to Marie. How he can help Jean and Ororo so sweetly, but can’t muster one kind fucking word for you.
You don’t let yourself cry, even though you want to. Even though there’s a cloying, suffocating feeling clawing its way up the back of your throat. His room is on the same hall as yours and you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he made you cry.
You, at the very least, finally stop asking yourself what you did wrong. Instead, you start to wonder what’s wrong with him. You get sick to your stomach, thinking about all the ways you cared for him. Remembering how much of yourself you gave up to make him happy.
He was right about that, you are pathetic. He never deserved your help or your patience. You should never have offered him any grace. You’re embarrassed that you didn’t see it sooner. This isn’t a little boy pulling your pigtails because he likes you. This is a grown man who can’t regulate his emotions and decided you were the next best punching bag.
You take in a few deep, shaky breaths and close your eyes until you’re forced to fall asleep. You don’t want to think or feel any of what just happened.
Logan hovers in front of your doorway for ten minutes before he heads downstairs. He’s got a class to run, he doesn’t have time to wait for you to wake up, he reasons. He’ll find you later and apologize then.
It didn’t take a genius to realize he had gone too far yesterday. Even if you could take his usual level of dickishness, you didn’t deserve it. He just didn’t know what to do around you. You made him confront so many different conflicting emotions. It’s like every time he looks at you his brain is being ripped in twenty different directions and he doesn’t know what to do.
You’re so endlessly patient and gracious. It makes him realize he wants to be a better man and he can’t be. He resents you slightly for that. For having such a wonderful idea of what he could be, even though he knows he can never be that man.
He doesn’t find you that day. He makes up enough excuses that he goes to bed promising himself he’ll apologize tomorrow. Which he never does. Because actually saying it would be an admittance that he knows what he did was wrong. And what does that make every other time he’s yelled at you? What does that make him?
It returns to the same cycle it always does. He waits a few days until things are cooled down and you’ll have already forgotten about it. He starts to feel overwhelmed and he goes to find you because you always know what to do. And if you don’t, then you provide an outlet.
He spots the back of your head in the gardens. You’re with Jean and he expects the usual dirty look she gives him after you’ve both fought. Instead, she smiles warmly at him and waves. Which is odd, usually you tell her about what’s happened between the two of you and she holds the grudge longer than you do.
You glance over your shoulder, a small smile on your lips, to see who she’s waving at. Logan sees the way it falls when you see him and his steps falter. You never do that, you always look so happy to see him.
“Jean,” he greets curtly, eyes on you.
She says hello and they both look to you. Normally, you would have already spoken. But you don’t, you turn your eyes to the kids. Jean frowns and turns back to him, “Everything alright, Logan?”
He can’t take his eyes off of you. You read his moods, and know them better than he does. You should have already offered to talk. Maybe he really does need to apologize. The thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth.
He says your name and your brows just barely raise in question, though you couldn’t seem less interested. “Need to talk to you.”
You shrug, “Sorry, can’t. I’ve got a meeting to get to.” You brush past him and walk back into the mansion. He and Jean both watch you go, each of them shocked by how dismissive you were. That’s never happened before.
“What the fuck did you do?” Jean demands, the smile gone from her face and her tone deadly. She glares at him, clearly expecting an answer. But he doesn’t have one. Because this is something he’s done a million times and this has never happened. He doesn’t know what’s gone wrong.
He thought your absence would be a relief. After a few more days he begins to realize that he was wrong. He thought that not having someone constantly badgering him to be better and set good examples for the kids would be a relief.
There’s no one nagging him. No one forcibly checking on him after a mission when he doesn’t need it. No one to care.
There are chunks of his day that you would normally fill that now seem to drag on. Lunches are quiet without you constantly rambling about nothing in his ear. When there’s friction among the team and they’re ganging up on him, you remain silent. He supposes he should be grateful.
You finally listened to him for once. But he’s angry. He always seems to be angry and he doesn’t understand why. There is so much of his mind and life that was stolen from him. He wonders if he got any of it back if it would explain why he is the way he is.
It doesn’t matter because it wouldn’t fix what he can’t undo. He sees you with the others constantly. You’re always laughing, always happy. Like nothing’s happened. Like you haven’t cut him out of your life completely. And then, when you’re around him, it’s like a switch is flipped.
You’re irritatingly silent. Practically a brick wall. He pokes and he prods, using every weapon in his arsenal to try and provoke a reaction from you. But you give him nothing.
There is an ache in his chest when he sees the way your smile drops when he walks into a room. He doesn’t understand the feeling. This is exactly what he wanted. To be left alone.
It feels so wrong.
It happens in the kitchen again. Odd, that that’s become such an important place to you.
Your back is to the entrance and you’re busy slicing up some fruit for yourself. You don’t hear him come in. Not until he speaks. “I’m-” you jump at the sound of his voice. Whirling around with a shocked look on your face.
He chuckles a little at the reaction but when you don’t smile he stops. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out. It sounds semi genuine. But it also sounds like it hurt him to say. “I’m sorry, so can you please just stop ignoring me?”
You shrug and go back to cutting up the fruit. “I’m not ignoring you.”
“No?” He demands. “Then why don’t you talk to me? Why don’t we eat lunch together anymore? You can’t even fucking look at me.”
You slam the knife down on the cutting board, taking in a deep breath so you don’t do something you regret. Your nails dig into your palms, trying to center yourself. “I’m doing exactly what you wanted,” you utter, voice low.
You turn just enough to make eye contact. “I’m leaving you the fuck alone. That’s what you wanted right? I don’t think I could have misheard while you were screaming it at me.” You turn to leave, abandoning your fruit because you don’t have an appetite anymore.
“I didn’t mean it,” he whispers before you can make it out of the kitchen. “I,” he stops and starts again, “I miss you. I’m not a mean person, I don’t know why I hurt you.”
You stare at him, face unflinching. You give him nothing and he knows it's what he deserves. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I’m not asking for it-”
“Good,” you cut him off with a disgusted sneer. “Because I’m not looking to hand it out. Especially not to you. You only want me because you miss what I do for you. You don’t deserve my forgiveness. You don’t deserve me.” You turn on your heel and walk away from him, unwilling to entertain any more conversation.
This is what you’ve always done. When someone hurts you, really irrevocably hurts you, they’re gone. They’re gone from your life. From your mind. More importantly, your heart. You don’t have any obligations to entertain him or speak with him outside of professionalism.
You thought cutting him out of your life would hurt more. But it’s like you can breathe for the first time in months. You’re no longer striving to gain someone’s approval. You’re not chasing after something you’ll never catch.
You can find happiness within yourself. Begin to do the things you would do for him, for you. It’s a relief. And a little sobering. Perhaps, in your mission to help him, you’d burdened him with the desires you had for yourself.
You believe that you’re unfixable. You believe there are facets of yourself that are too dark to face. That you are undeserving of love and kindness. You recognized those things in Logan and tried to force on him what you’ve always wanted for yourself.
It was wrong. A mutually toxic relationship that never would have made it far had anything actually happened between you two. You can’t paint yourself the victim and you never meant to. It’s why you didn’t tell anyone what happened between the two of you.
They wonder, of course, why you no longer spend lunches together. Why you no longer rush to defend him when he doesn’t need the help. Why you don’t smile around him anymore. There are questions that you deflect. Saying, you just needed space from each other.
Your harm was a silent one. Forcing him into a mold he was never going to fit in. Despite the claims of loneliness, you can see the way your absence benefits him. He’s calmer, less likely to yell when provoked. He just needed the space to find himself. Not to have someone try and make him something new.
You feel an ache in your chest when you think about how differently things could have been had you just let him be. If you had let things happen between the two of you naturally then maybe you really could have been something great.
A month goes by without speaking to each other. After that day in the kitchen, he seems to understand that there’s no putting back together what was broken. It was already cracked to start with, the break was inevitable.
You warm slowly to him. Give him polite greetings when you see him. And he smiles at you sometimes, on the jet when Scott says something ridiculous, or just in passing. It’s nice, being a stranger to him. It’s comforting.
“We need to stop meeting like this.”
You look up from the paperwork in front of you and give Logan a small smile. He’s hovering in the entrance to the kitchen and you know he’s waiting for your permission. “Hi,” you say softly.
He takes that as the go-ahead and walks in, heading for the fridge. You listen to him rummage around before he pulls out a beer. “Where do you hide those things?” You ask, and you almost bite your tongue. This is the most you’ve spoken to each other in a long time. It feels wrong to joke so easily.
“Can’t tell you or Wheels is gonna stop me,” he grumbles. You just nod and turn your head back to your paperwork. It’s silent for a few minutes after that. He sits a little further down the island, nursing the beer while your pen scratches across the reports your students gave you.
He clears his throat and you glance over at him from the corner of your eye. “I,” he starts but quickly closes his mouth. “Ah, forget it.”
Your brows pinch in confusion but you decide to leave it. You oddly don’t feel scared or anxious. You don’t worry that he’s going to snap at you if you provoke him. You choose not to because you’re not interested in engaging.
You don’t really recognize the man before you. Maybe it’s because you never tried to get to know him before you tried changing him. It causes that familiar clenching feeling of guilt in your gut.
You know if you gave him a chance things would be different. You could be friends, real friends. There’s a reason you latched so readily onto him. There’s a familiar pain in him that’s reflected back in you.
You stand up, shuffling the papers into a neat stack and pushing your stool in. Logan straightens up as he watches you wash off your dishes and collect your items. Before you can make it out of the kitchen he’s standing from his chair.
He stops in front of you, hand outstretched before him. “Logan,” he greets.
You tilt your head in confusion, glancing between him and his hand before it finally clicks what he’s trying to do. Start over, reintroduce yourselves. Actually give each other chances to understand the other.
This all started because you shared the same pain and you resented each other for it. But you could comfort each other instead. Be pillars of stability and strength in each other’s lives instead of trying to tear the other down so you don’t see yourself in them anymore.
You were both too afraid to face who you truly are and it nearly destroyed you. But this is a stranger in front of you. You don’t know this man, but you think you’d like to. You give him your name and shake his hand firmly. “Nice to meet you,” you whisper, a slight joke to your tone.
He holds on for a second longer than he should, the breath rushing out of him like he hadn’t thought you would accept. You smile softly at him before you pass by to go upstairs. His hand lingers on your, skin tingling under your touch until you can no longer hold on.
You don’t know what it means for you, this odd new truce between the two of you. But you won’t linger on that tonight. You’ll go to bed feeling comforted that for the first time since you’ve met him, Logan has made you happy.
a/n: felt more like a diary entry than a fic, sorry lol
end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
General Taglist: @evasmlp
Logan Taglist: @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always ♡
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