I Just Discovered You Not Too Long Ago But You Are Probably One Of My Top Favorite Writers Rn

PART 5 WAS SOOOOO GOOD SUCH WHIPLASH GOING FROM LONGING SMITTEN COOP TO MEAN (BUT STILL JUST A LITTLE SMITTEN) COOP HURT BUT IN A GOOD WAYYYY!!!! CANT WAIT FOR THE NEXT PART ✨

You have NO idea how much fun I have writing Hollywood Coop. Walton goggins was made to be in old black and white movies

Halfway through the next part now!!

Should have something ready for y’all soon!!

Sorry it’s taking so long, I was injured and thought I was going to write more but I was just essentially in a coma my entire week off lmao

Heading into work again, wish me luck 😋🔫

If requests are still open, how about headcanons of Heisenberg with a reader that is a fifth lord. Reader's Cadou allows them to manipulate sound (radio) waves, and go as far as sonic scream. No pressure or rush, just curious on your interpretation :)

Karl Heisenberg x GN!reader A/N: This is only the second time I’ve done HC’s and I’m still struggling to get a grasp on them. Thank you for the request, your prompt was interesting to think about. This is a little short, so if I didn’t give you what you wanted let me know and I’ll try again.

He really doesn’t give a shit about you at first

Unless you go out of your way to catch his attention he’s treating you the same as he treats the rest of the family

Whatever your powers are, he’s gonna assume you’re just as bad as the rest of them and dismiss you

You have to actively make him notice you

It wouldn’t take a lot, maybe one snide comment towards Mother Miranda and suddenly you have value

“You’ve got to be kidding me?” You scoffed, glaring down at the horde of Miranda’s worshippers that had surrounded the old church. You’d just been passing through town, picking something up from the duke before heading back up the mountain. 

Heisenberg happened to be there at the same time. You weren’t sure what his deal with the Duke was but it seemed to be complicated. His head perked up as you glared at the villagers. “What’s your problem?” He muttered, tone bitter. 

You nodded towards the villagers, “They are. All their Mother Miranda bullshit, I’m sick of it.” You walked back towards your lair, the old radio tower up in the mountain. It was the best place for you to be with the way your powers functioned, your strongest point. 

He watched as you went, staring at you contemplatively and wondering how he’d missed that hatred in your eyes. 

When he and Alcina start to argue, Miranda will just look at you and you’ll let out a scream so loud bits of drywall fall from the ceiling

It’s painful but it’s effective, you’re essentially used as a mute button when things get out of hand

You tend to avoid the others, keeping quiet and to yourself

When Miranda had first experimented on you, your experience with the sound waves had been less than pleasant

Learning to control them was difficult. The first time you spoke after waking up from her little experiment, you’d blown out your own eardrums. 

Even after you finally harnessed them, you figured that it was better to just be quiet. The times you did speak you kept your voice below a whisper. 

“You don’t talk a whole lot do you?”

You shrugged, “Only when I have to, really.” You sat in his workshop, mostly against your will. He’d invited you to dinner, though it felt like more of a command, and you’d tried to get him to make the journey up the mountain to you. 

He’d, of course, refused because he was a stubborn bastard. You didn’t even want to sit down anywhere, there was oil and blood on nearly every surface. And if it wasn’t covered in that, it was sticky with dried lycan drool. 

At least Moreau managed to keep his quarry clean.

Heisenberg hadn’t stopped staring at you since you sat down, it was starting to bug you.

You don’t normally speak with your family, mainly because you don’t really care for any of them. Having his attention on you was disturbing.

He sets his fork down on his plate and gives you an odd look, “How do your powers work, anyway?”

It was easier to show than it was to explain. You focused on the large pile of metal scraps on his desk and opened your mouth. The noise was nearly silent at first, a high pitched ringing that you questioned if you were actually hearing. 

Then it got louder, the ringing clear now. It was painful to anyone outside of the focused stream of sound waves, but it was lethal once you stepped into the stream. The metal shook, vibrating loudly against his desk. A few toppled over, the rest exploded in a violent display of clashing metal shards and sparks. 

Heisenberg clutched his ears, a small stream of blood leaking from between his fingertips. You want to apologize to him. You’ve always had a little difficulty controlling your powers in such close spaces. 

But he doesn’t look mad, he doesn’t even look like he’s in pain. Instead he’s grinning widely at you, something glinting in his eyes that had you feeling on edge. 

He sees the uniqueness of your powers, the untapped potential for violence and how helpful someone like you could be to his cause

He waters the seedling of resentment you already hold towards Miranda and helps it grow

He whispers words of hate and anger into your ear until you’re just as passionate about taking Miranda down as he is

You two work together, using your odd understanding of radio and sound waves to improve his soldat designs 

Slowly, your loyal followers from the village start to abandon you and move to different lords. Your connection to Heisenberg has soured your influence among the sheep in the village, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care

Your status as a lord meant little to you when you had him

He’s intrigued by your powers and loves to experiment with them, but more than anything there’s something soothed inside him because he’s no longer alone

He’s grateful for the support you provide when he feels like he’s just stagnant in his progress taking down Miranda

end. — I do not own the characters or the game Resident Evil Village, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

Part seven should be up sometime this afternoon

Quick question what are Flux abilities? I keep thinking it’s atomic manipulation or matter manipulation but I could be wrong.

Also your writing is immaculate and stupendous. The angst brings me physical pain everytime I read something of yours but then I get happy but I still feel petty about the hurt he’s caused along the way😤

I'm including you both in this answer so I don't post this twice on accident.

SO 👏 the reason so many seemed to be confused about Flux's powers is simple. I don't fucking know what they are either. As I stated many times when I first started making my Logan stuff, I'm not good at superheroes.

When I started making the X-Man persona I thought, I want someone who is really powerful, but not to the point that it's shoving it down your throat. I wanted cool powers but not "oh, she can beat Jean and Charles and Magneto and she's basically a goddess". Fanfic like that is icky to me.

That's why she has "power" meltdowns, where she loses control because that keeps her humble. Her powers are essentially matter/atom manipulation. I'm not a scientist and I felt like putting exactly one google search into this so- essentially, she can manipulate anything that contains atoms/matter which is everything.

None of this is going to make sense ohmygod

In my mind, she mainly focuses her powers on shifting things between the three states, liquid, gaseous, and solid forms. Her powers are just manipulating the world around her, (I recommend googling matter manipulation superheroes bc it's not as uncommon as I thought)

She has power meltdowns because she has to constantly be in control of her powers. She has to make sure in a fit of anger she doesn't accidentally kill herself or those around her. She's constantly in a state of keeping herself in check and making sure she's not - without realizing it - hurting those around her. That's why she has those cuffs in some fics that dampen her powers because it's so volatile and she can't control them.

HOPE THIS MADE SENSE

as i've said before, i've got not fucking clue what I'm doing

Series Masterlist

The End of the Beginning

Cruel World

Crash of Worlds

Ultraviolence

Million Dollar Man

Only Have Eyes for You

The Other Woman 18+

Madman's Eyes

On temporary hiatus

end. — I do not own the characters or the video game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

I think as a fandom we can all agree and say the movie is not canon, it never existed, it never happened

good night :)

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 ♡

Cruel World

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Cooper Howard x fem!reader A/N: I just realized the first episode of the show is titled The End lol, chapter one’s title makes so much more sense now. I’m a genius.  Also, I promise this isn’t going to be a copy and paste of the show. Just how this chapter is so I could set everything up.  (Let me know if you would like to be removed/added to my Cooper Howard taglist) Summary: After the shit show that was Lucy’s wedding, you’re trying to get your life back on track. But you should have known that she wouldn’t give up so easily on her father. You could stay in the vault, throw your name into consideration for Overseer. But you never wanted that. It’s a risky decision, one you’ll probably regret, but you decide to go with Lucy. Someone’s got to watch her back.

“Probably one of the best weddings we’ve ever attended.” Norm gives you a curt look, not even sparing you a smile at the comment. Maybe it was too soon, but you didn’t know how else to break the tension between the two of you. He returned his attention to wrapping up the wound on your side. 

He pulled the StimPak out of your med kit and you turned away from him as he plunged the needle into your tender flesh. He preferred to just get things over with, he wasn’t the type to count down to three and hold your hand. But he still offered you a comforting squeeze of the hand when he was done. 

He stood up, disposing of the used needle and coming back to sit beside you. He didn’t look at you, his shoulders slumped over as he stared down at his hands. If anything it felt like he was actively trying to avoid catching your eye. “Norm?” You questioned, voice bordering on concern as you reached out towards him. 

He shook his head and stood up, glaring down at the floor as his fists clenched by his sides. “I hid,” he muttered, voice dripping with disgust. Disgust directed at himself. You knew he was going to beat himself up about this for a while. And you couldn’t lie, couldn’t hide the fact that his cowardice had bothered you a little. Norm was never the type to appreciate white lies like that anyway. He didn’t want someone to stroke his ego, he wanted honesty. 

“You did,” you replied stoically. He scoffed, a humorless sound. “People react differently to fear, Norm.”

“You fought,” he snapped back, finally looking at you. He sounded angry, but you knew it wasn’t directed at you. “You fought for our friends and I hid under a picnic table.” You couldn’t comfort him the way you wanted to. You couldn’t tell him that you had been trained and coached for these sort of disaster scenarios. Vault 31 was full of leaders, fighters, and those coached for every possible mishap. 

Norm would never be as prepared as you, Steph, or any other Bud’s Bud would be. “I’m your husband,” you had to hold back a laugh at that. But he seemed to catch the sight of your upturned lips anyway. It caused some of the tension he was holding to leave him as he laughed. A small laugh, but real this time at least. He sunk back down into the chair by your bed and sighed. “I should have helped you, or protected you. Anything other than hide while you were nearly blown up and my dad was taken by raiders.”

You reach out, taking his hand and squeezing it in reassurance. “I’m no more your wife than you are my husband,” he offers you a weak smile and you grin back at him. “We both know we never wanted this, it was forced on us.”

“Gee,” he interrupts, sarcastically, “you sure know how to cheer a guy up.”

You roll your eyes and swat his hand, finally releasing him. “But, I’m glad it was you, Norm. If I had to be stuck in this fucking vault with someone, I’m glad it was you.”

For a moment, he looks genuinely touched. He opens his mouth and you almost expect a kind reply in response. Instead he says, “You mean you don’t love the amenities vault 33 has to offer you?”

You laugh, shoving his shoulder and wincing slightly at the pain it causes in your abdomen. “You’re such an ass.” 

He smiles at you and gets up to get you some water, sending you a fond look as he does. You mean it, Bud had done you a favor marrying Norm. No, you weren’t exactly in love with him. And he really wasn’t your husband in anything other than name. But he was a good friend and you were grateful for the company he provided you. 

A few days later, when everyone has recovered enough to be up and moving around. An assembly is called. You sit beside Norm and Lucy, taking in the destruction around you and shaking your head mutely. Things had been going so well. Three years and not a moment of discontent. 

It was getting fucking boring. 

If it weren’t for half your friends dying, you’d be grateful to the raiders for finally spicing things up a bit in here. Before everyone can fully settle in, Lucy is shooting to her feet and proclaiming, “I have a proposal for the assembly.” You glance up at her as everyone quiets and she looks around at them, a little uncomfortable at all the attention. “We send a search party to the surface to look for my dad.”

You huff, glancing over to Betty and catching her eye. She doesn’t do much, just a subtle quirk to her brow that you know means it’s never going to fucking happen. Around you everyone starts whispering, openly objecting to the idea. The whole point of this vault, as far as they know, is to one day go to the surface. 

Clearly, they were getting a little too happy within the comforts of the vault. “They don’t want to find dad,” Norm mutters and both you and Lucy turn to him. “If they did, they wouldn’t get to be in charge.” You turn away from him, back to Betty. You see the look on her face and you know he’s right. 

Getting released at the same time as Hank must have killed her. She’d always wanted to be the overseer, it’s what she was trained for. Being outvoted to Norm’s father had probably wrecked that volatile ego of hers. This was her chance, there was no way in hell she wasn’t going to take it. 

Lucy looks around at all of the frowning faces of your neighbors and you see something in her break a little. She’s got an endless optimism that, at times, can be fucking overwhelming. But you know it hurt to see the people she called friends give up on her father so easily. She straightens her shoulders and storms off, you share a look with Norm before getting up to follow after her. 

You really should have known someone as determined as her wouldn’t so easily give up. When you do finally find her, she’s already got a pack on her shoulders and is convincing Chet into opening up the outer door for her. “Lucy,” you hiss, grabbing her elbow before they can make it to the elevator. “What are you doing?”

She gives you a pleading look, taking her arm out of your hold and glancing back at a nervous Chet. “I need to find him, if they’re not going to help me,” she took a deep breath and steadied herself. “I’ll go to the surface on my own.”

Your brows furrowed and you gave her a questioning look, a little disbelieving that she would actually do something like this. She’d always been such a rule follower, the prodigal poster girl of the vaults. You suppose everyone has their limits, even her. 

Still, you give her pack a doubtful glare and forcefully turn her around. She shouts your name in shock as you rip her pack open and dig through it. “What are you doing?” Chet demands. 

You sigh at the lack of provisions she’s grabbed. You know that Bud had created lesson plans to create an idyllic vision of what the surface would look like when everyone goes back up. But, seriously, one canteen of water and a single pack of hard boiled eggs. Only one tranquilizer gun in sight, she was never going to make it on her own. 

“Lucy,” you turn her back around and stare into her abnormally large eyes. She’s all naïveté and hope, the surface is going to fucking break her. “You’re completely unprepared.”

She gapes, points to her pack and stutters. “I packed eggs.”

“An egg. One singular pack of eggs, Lucy. There’s no way in hell that’s going to be enough.” You sigh, mentally doing gymnastics as you try and assure yourself that what you’re about to say is the right thing to do. You’ve never liked the vaults, they’re too suffocating and too strict. You can’t do anything with Betty always setting her evil eye on you. You’re constantly harassed for not yet being pregnant by Steph, and sometimes Lucy, you don’t love your husband. 

Besides running water and air conditioning, which are pretty fucking vital, you’ve got nothing for you here. It’s the only reason you say the stupidest fucking thing you’ve ever said in your life. “I’m coming with you.” She opens her mouth to protest but you cut her off with a glare. “This is what I trained for in vault 31, Lucy. To go to the surface. It’s not ready for us yet, and you’re not ready for what’s waiting out there for you.” You step back from her, glaring at Chet until his face turns red. “Don’t leave without me, Chet, I fucking mean it.”

Before either of them can say anything and you can talk yourself out of this, you make a run for the armory. The raiders had taken pretty much everything of value. But you knew the code to the safe where some of the better guns are held. As cruel as it is to take what little weapons your vault has left, you’re going to need them more on the surface than they are down here. 

You grab one of the emergency packs by the door, stuffing it full of all the rations and water you can get your hands on. Lucy had packed more cozily, a nice bedroll and amenities to keep her comfortable. You’re focused solely on packing what you know won’t be available on the surface. 

You put on a belt full of ammo and type in the code to the safe. Bud, in all his infinite wisdom, was not very good at remembering his passwords. 313233, and it pops open as the little green light goes off. You take two pistols, knowing it’s better to pack light, and turn to leave. 

Betty is standing there at the doorway, a knowing smile on her face. 

You hate the training. You know it’s essential, that it’s better to be over prepared than under, but you hate it. You’re always partnered up with Hank and Betty, seeing as they’re more favored than the others by Bud. Betty can’t stand you, she’s under the misguided impression that you somehow bribed your way into the position you have as one of Bud’s Buds. 

Hank is fine, but he’s a beast when it comes to your self defense drills. He never goes easy on you, always pummeling you down with enough ferocity to make you just want to call it quits. But you know that’s just because he doesn’t settle for anything other than the best. His whole life is Vault-Tec, he’ll never let anything in his career be lacking. Even training. 

Betty goes after you harshly for different reasons. She’s never liked you, not once. She already has to compete with Hank one day for the position of Overseer, she just sees you as more competition. Except, to her, you’re not deserving of the title. 

It doesn’t matter how many times you tell her you wouldn’t fight her for the role, she doesn’t believe you. She thinks your assuasion is just a manipulation ploy to get her to put down her guard. You won’t be in the vaults for another year, but it doesn’t matter. She’s ready to go now, ready to finally be a leader and no longer another rung on the corporate ladder. 

You don’t think she understands that, no matter what, there’s always going to be someone to answer to. You don’t know what Bud’s plan is, exactly, but he would never give up control over his project or give up seeing it come to fruition. Her hopes of being in charge will never come true, but she doesn’t care. You, honestly, feel like she just wants an excuse to not like you. 

You duck under her fist as she swings at you and sweep out her legs. She slams harshly against the mat, breath knocked out of her with a wheeze. Hank stands on the sidelines, sweat pouring down his back as he takes a swig from your water bottle. You glare at him but he just sends you a cheeky smile. 

You roll your eyes as you step back from Betty’s prone form. Around you the other’s are training. Either in duos or trios. Bud has signed out the Vault-Tec gym for this. All he has to say is that it’s for his experiment and he can get away with pretty much anything in the company. 

While you watch Stephanie execute a violent elbow strike on Darren, your attention is off of Betty. She pounces, sweeping her legs behind your own from where she lays on the floor. Your balance is thrown as you’re tossed back. A similar wheeze to her own forces its way out of you as you cough, grabbing your sternum and trying to get your breath back. 

She gets to her feet as you roll over onto your side, trying to catch your breath. Sweat beads down your temple, dripping down into your eyes and stinging. You lift your hand, using your teeth to rip the Velcro of your boxing glove open and tugging it off. You wipe at your face as she walks over you, staring down at you with venom in her glaze. 

“Can’t sleep your way into actual skills, can you?” You stare up at her, wide eyed and aghast. Hank looks away from your both, embarrassment clear on his face. She gets up from you and walks away, tapping Hank in. He steps towards you, offering you a hand up, but you swat it away. 

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

You know she’s not going to stop you. She’s never had any faith in your survival skills or your intelligence in general. You step towards her and she steps to the side, making a little room for you to squeeze past her through the doorway. She wouldn’t stop you, either, because you’re just one more person to get out of the way. 

Everyone knows that it’s only people from vault 31 who ever make it to be overseer. Steph can’t compete, she’s pregnant and half blind from grief and losing her actual eye. You’re the only person left to combat her claim to the title. 

Her eyes bore into yours, the wrinkles around them turning up as she offers you a sardonic smile. She might be old now, but you still see that sharp fire of hatred in them anytime she looks at you. You think her drive keeps her young. 

You’re surprised when she speaks. Three years here and she’s barely spared you a word, beyond what was required of her. “You should see him before you go. He’ll want to see you one last time.” Anyone else might think she’s talking about your husband, but you know better. 

You glance at the clock on the wall, you’ve already been gone ten minutes. You glance back at Betty and you realize she’s right. You’ve had a question you’ve wanted an answer to for three years, you don’t ask now and you might never get the chance again. 

You slip past her without a word, shoulder jolting hers harshly as you pass. She simply huffs, shaking her head and calling out, “Good luck!” As you head down the hall. You ignore her, how snide she is. You hate how easy it is for her to burrow herself under your skin. 

It’s easy to make your way to the place where the vaults intersect. Everyone’s busy with cleaning up. They’re getting rid of the bodies of the fallen, painting over the blood, and taking stock of what was stolen and damaged. No one pays any mind to you as you slip through the halls with a pack on your back. 

You use the code Bud had given you to get into the vault, silencing the alarms and glancing over your shoulder to double check no one was spying on you. The metal creaks loudly as it slowly rolls over the platform and slides open. You take a peek inside, peering around containers full of supplies and looking for a brain rolling around. 

It doesn’t take long for you to hear his wheels going over the metal grates of the floors. “Who’s there?” He shouts, not turning the corner yet. You know he’s trying to sound bigger than he is, to scare off any kids who might come snooping around the vaults. It’s happened before, you and Steph having to do damage control by dosing them with some drugs and telling everyone they were high. 

“It’s me!” You call back. 

He calls out your name eagerly, turning the corner too quick and his voice a little happier than usual. He’s not paying enough attention, though, and knocks into a broom. It goes crashing down on his dome with a loud bang and your face screws up as it blocks his way. His wheels bump into it and he bounces back reflexively, “What is this?” He mutters. 

You let him struggle for a little bit, slightly entertained by the sight of him repeatedly ramming into the handle of the broom. A brain on a fucking roomba. What had he been thinking?

When the sight of him struggling loses its novelty you walk forward and toss the broom out of the way. He sighs, “Thank you.” He rights himself, the brain now facing you. “What brings you here? I heard about the incident with the raiders but Betty assured me she had it under control.”

You know that if you told him right now that you doubted Betty’s competence, he would put you in charge. Or Steph. He would always listen to you over any of them, maybe that’s why she hated you so much. He would always favor you over her. Still, you can’t find it in yourself to be as petty as you’d like. You simply sigh, shaking your head even though he can’t see it. “No, it’s not that.”

“Okay,” he drags the word out, sounding unsure about why you bothered coming to see him. You briefly consider telling him the truth, that you’re leaving with Lucy and you won’t be coming back anytime soon. But you know he would only try to stop you. He’d use the same tranquilizer he used on the people who snooped and somehow get you back in a pod. 

Instead you ask him what’s been on your mind for three years. “Why’d you let me out?” You hear a low hum and realize it’s him sighing. He spins, the little brain inside wobbling at the movement. God, this whole thing still freaks you out. You hear his voice, can perfectly picture his face in your head. But he’s just gone. You never actually thought you would miss your boss, but you suppose you’ve lost so much that even Bud would be a comfort now. 

Two hundred and thirteen years. That’s how long it’s been. An innumerable amount of his Bud’s have been married off, led, had children, and died. You either should have been let out with the first batch or left in your pod until the world was ready for you. 

“I suppose, I’d always wanted to be there when you came out. But my body wasn’t ever going to survive this long. It was a foolish hope to be whole when you came out, to make sure you had a friend. When Hank said he needed someone for his son, I figured it was time to let you go. Norm’s nice, smart, his ambition reminds me of myself a little.” 

You hold back a scoff. Norm is kind and one of the most intelligent people you’ve ever met. But a potato has more ambition than he does. He can’t hold down a job to save his life. The only reason he gets away with it is because Hank is the overseer. 

“If I had to give you up, I knew Norm would be a good choice. And I guess, I waited because I didn’t want you to see me like this.” You glance down at the little robot and feel a twinge of guilt. You were hard on Bud, but all he’d ever done is look out for you. Even when you screwed up he covered your ass. The only reason you were still alive was because of him. 

You hum, the noise noncommittal and it makes Bud roll anxiously on his wheels. “Right. I’ve got to go, Bud.” You kneel down and pat the dome around his brain. You’re sure he can’t feel it, but his sensors will pick up the movement and he’ll hear it. It will have to be enough for now. “I’ll see you around.”

He wheels you back to the exit and before the door closes he calls out a “Don’t be shy, come visit more!” You don’t bother telling him you’re going to the surface. That’s what the whole point of this visit was. To try and glean some information about what would be waiting for you up there. But he would never let you go. You wave, rolling your eyes when you remember he can’t see it, and head back towards the elevator. 

Lucy is no longer waiting for you, and you suppose you should have seen this coming. But when you catch up with her, you’re going to wring her neck. You use your bypass code on the elevator and tap your foot impatiently as it goes up to the outside door. Messages from Vault-Tec play through the speaker and you huff with impatience. 

“Remember, surface, never. Vault, forever!” Well, that’s definitely a strong contradiction of everything these people have been preparing for. You glance up at the speaker and briefly consider just shooting it, but that would be a waste of ammo. 

When the elevator finally stops you run through the door before it even gets a chance to open all the way. You’re surprised to see Norm staring at you, his eyes are wide and his brows furrow in confusion. Then he glances behind you and shouts, “No!” You turn around, face screwing up when you realize you’ve let the elevator go back down. 

Betty might have given you the okay to leave, but she has to keep up appearances. She’ll be up here, after you all, in a few minutes. Norm looks back at you, the pack on your back, and sighs. “You’re leaving too.” It’s not a question, more of a confirmation about something he’s already suspected. 

You nod, you take a step forward, reaching out like you’ll hug him. But that’s never really been what you two do. So, instead, you offer him a grin and shrug, “Someone’s got to watch out for your sister.”

He gives you a resigned smile and nods, “I’m glad it's you.” You’re surprised by the sharp pang of loss that strikes through you. You have no disillusionment about what this trip entails. It’s likely that you’ll never see Norm again, or at the very least won’t for a very long time. You’re going to miss him, more than you want to admit. 

You place a hand on his shoulder and he reaches up to squeeze it before you both step away from each other awkwardly. You hear the distinct whir of metal and peer over the edge of the railing. The elevator's coming back up. Norm shares a concerned look with you and you turn back toward Lucy. 

She’s standing over a knocked out Chet, hand poised over the large red button on the control panel. “Shit,” you hiss. You leap onto the bridge before it starts to withdraw and rush towards her. She gives you an aggrieved look, but doesn’t protest you joining her. You nod and she presses down on the button. 

There’s a loud screech and sparks fly out at you as the unused metal gears slowly roll together. You and Lucy both share a look of apprehension, turning to face the door just as the other’s step out of the elevator. You hear them shouting at you, begging you to come back, but the sunlight’s already peaking through and you know there’s no going back now. 

You’d forgotten what real sunlight felt like, used to artificial warmth. The brightness of it is blinding and welcoming all at once. You want to cry, so close to the outside and still feeling so far. You look over at Lucy and she gives you a smile. You return as best as you can and step out with her.

You cover your eyes, flinching away from the sun and waiting as your eyes adjust to the light. It’s hotter than you remember. It feels like fire licking at your skin everywhere it touches. You’re sure it's because of the damage done to the environment when the nukes fell. Everything is going to be harsher now. 

You know that, and you’re still unprepared to be surrounded by nothing but sand and bones. When you’d gone in this had been a quiet section in a beautiful forest. Now everything was dust in the wind, no signs of civilization except for rubble long since buried.  

Lucy starts walking forward, not letting herself be phased by all the dead bodies around you. Most of the skeletons are more recent. It seems like they’d discovered the vault and had waited outside, hoping it would open up and let them in. Other bodies look like the ones discovered around Pompeii. Frozen in their last moments before death. 

Lucy calls your name and you rip your gaze away from the bones. They’re rattling in the wind, jaws clicking and taunting you as you run to catch up with her. “Look,” she points ahead and smiles warmly at you. 

Your gaze follows the line of her finger and you can’t help but laugh disbelievingly. The ocean, it’s miles away, but you can see it. See how vast it is and how far it still stretches. Maybe some things haven’t changed. 

It’s odd, traveling with Lucy. You have to remember which of your lies are truths to her. She gets confused by things like tumbleweeds. You have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from letting her know just how knowledgeable you are about the outside world. Everything that’s foreign to her is the past to you. 

She’s also endlessly optimistic. It’s nice, in the vault, when you can hold onto hope about the future. But outside, in this endless wasteland, you have to stop yourself from killing her. Everything is not hunky dory, but she refuses to accept that. 

You’re tired, hot, sweating through your suit and she’s just tugging on the straps of her backpack and grinning at all the new sights around her. You suppose it's because you saw the world when it was still beautiful. The vault is all she’s ever known. 

This world, to her, is beautiful. Because it’s new, she hasn’t yet seen the side of it that will make it lose its charm. The smells, the breeze, even the fucking sun, is a wonderful experience to her because she’s not mourning what was lost like you are. You see ruined buildings and miss what used to be there. She sees them and thinks that they’re exactly as they should be. 

You come across a house and Lucy tugs your sleeve, directing you towards it. It’s clear she wants to see inside, see what old homes used to look like. You’re doubtful about how well preserved it is but acquiesce anyway. 

To your own shock, most of the furniture is still intact. There’s sand up to your calves, but you can see how it’s meant to look. Shadows of the past poking through and telling you this used to be the home to a small, loving family. Your lips quirk up, despite yourself, charmed by the little slice of nostalgia. 

Until you reach the dining room. Lucy notices them first, a sharper intake of breath that has your head shooting up in alarm. But all she’s staring at is the skeletons of the family. You wince, coming up beside her and staring at the baby in the high chair. She reaches for a bottle on the table and you recognize the label. Vault-Tec Plan B, you don’t make it to your designated vault in time, might as well just end it now. 

You walk away from them, unable to stomach the sight of them anymore. That could have been you. If Barb had managed to get you before Bud, you would have been keeled over your kitchen table. Poisoned because death was better than living through the radiation of the fallout and the war that followed. 

Lucy is hot on your heels, rattled by the sight of the poison. You can tell she’s trying to put together why Vault-Tec would make something like that, but you don’t want her to linger on the thought for long. If she starts questioning things, eventually signs are going to point towards you. 

“It’s getting dark,” you point out, looking up at the sun sinking behind the horizon. Even its disappearance doesn’t provide much relief. The heat is trapped in the sand, still wafting up towards your face. “We’ll camp here tonight.”

Lucy pulls off her pack, “Okey dokey,” and grins at you, collecting sticks for a fire. You want to keep watch, knowing she won’t be able to, but the exhaustion of the day is taking its toll. You’re asleep before your head even hits the ground. 

Lucy shakes you awake in the dead of night, eyes frantic and face paled. You shoot up, hand already on your pistol but she shakes her head, pointing to the retreating form of a man. What the hell did you sleep through?

“What happened?” You demand, voice groggy. 

She just shakes her head, “The people up here are weird.” You glance back at the man, noticing something shining on his neck and motion towards her bedroll. 

“I’ll keep watch, get back to sleep.”

She gives you a concerned look, probably taking in the dark circles under your eyes. “Are you sure?” You nod and after a minute she finally listens and lays back down. Her body stays tensed for a little while as she struggles to sleep. You only put the fire out once you’re sure she’s no longer awake. 

You don’t need anyone else finding you both. You might be good with a gun, but you doubt you could take on more than two people. You’re wide awake now, and the noises that echo through the dark around you are helping you stay that way. You hear something large skittering and chirping in the bushes beyond the house. 

You shift uncomfortably against the log you’re resting on, finger poised on the trigger and hand trembling from anticipation. Despite your worries, nothing else finds you that night. By the time the sun rises you’re so on edge you’re practically shaking. You shake Lucy awake just as dawn breaks, anxious from staying in the same place for too long. 

She tries to swat you off, hands slapping weakly against your arms in protest. You sigh and roll your eyes, grabbing her by the collar of her suit and yanking her up. Her eyes fly open and you nod to her pack. “We need to leave, pack up.” She nods, blearily following your command and shouldering her pack again. 

By noon, you’ve given up hope of ever finding any semblance of civilization. You let out a loud groan, taking a break and leaning over. Lucy stands over you, she tugs out her canteen and offers you a sip. You shake your head, knocking her hand away and straighten up. 

You’d trained for this, you remind yourself. This was the whole point of Bud’s program, acclimating and adapting to difficult situations. Still, you hadn’t expected it to be so fucking hot. You and Lucy keep moving and an hour later you meet your first wastelander. 

Loud clanging echoes through the vast desert. Lucy puts a hand over her eyes, glaring against the sun and smiling when she sees a man in what looks like a diaper standing outside his house. She tugs out her gun, running towards him and waving. 

You keep your hand on your pistol, eyeing him warily. “Hi!” She calls out cheerily. “Hi, excuse me, can I approach?” 

He frowns at her, eyeing her weapon warily. “Ain’t got any money. Or food. No water neither.”

She looks down at her gun and shakes her head, tucking it back in her belt. “That’s okay, I just want to ask you for some directions.”

His gaze goes back to you, the pistol in your hand, and he looks back at Lucy. “What about her?”

Lucy turns around, nodding towards the gun and motioning for you to put it back. You frown at her and shake your head, mouthing no. She huffs, the both of you silently arguing while the man watches on, hand scratching the back of his diaper. Eventually, she gives up, simply waving you away while she deals with him. 

You walk ahead of the house, breath catching in your throat when you see a throng of trees past the crest of the hill. Trees, gorgeous and green and so very different from the sand you’ve seen for the past two days. You’d given up on any hope that they still existed, but here they were. You should have known better, nature would always find a way to triumph over the folly of men. 

Lucy comes up behind you, frowning as she approaches. You glance over at her, the wonder of the forest leaving you slightly when you glance at her pack. “What happened to your water?”

She points behind you both at the man still watching you. He waves and you both offer awkward ones back. “He drank it.”

You shoot her a surprised look, “What, how?”

She sighs and shrugs, “I offered him some.”

Your face falls and you stare at her blankly. You shouldn’t even be surprised. “Rule number one, Lucy, don’t offer anyone shit.” She gapes at you, she always did hate you cussing. But you weren’t in the vaults anymore. There were no more decency rules to follow for the sake of your fellow vault dwellers. The sooner she figured that out, the better.

You threw an arm over her shoulder, tugging her into your side and pointing up ahead. “Look, isn’t it amazing?”

She hums, smiling at the sight of the trees. “Yep! And that’s where he said we need to go.” She starts forward, slipping out from under your arm, and you follow after her, tucking your gun back in your pants. 

“What did he tell you?”

She glances over her shoulder, “That if anyone was going to come through here, they would be going to Filly.”

You sigh, eyes set on the trees and you feel your first real sense of determination. To Filly, you thought, wondering what exactly would be waiting there for you. 

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.

All of my dividers are the creation of @ saradika-graphics

Please someone give me a request. I have the worst writers block known to man.