I Loved Your Bucky Fic So Much!!!

haunted past

Mike Schmidt x fem!reader

a/n: WARNING: loose recollection of the movie bc I don’t have the energy to rewatch it lol. I’m not planning on following games/book lore bc I don’t have the time to rewatch the eight-hour YouTube video covering it all. So, forgive me if I take some creative liberty. (Dark subjects following the themes of the movie/games below the cut, including the murder of children)

Summary: You'd thought you'd left the past behind. You never thought you'd be back at this place. It's the source of your every waking nightmare and the worst day of your life. Freddy Fazbear's is the catalyst of where your life went wrong, but when Abby's life is on the line, you have no other choice. Can you survive another night at Freddy's? (Part of my Halloween Palooza)

The door creaks open, one eye peeking through the crack. Mike taps his foot impatiently. He glances briefly down at Abby. She’s practically giddy with excitement as she waits for you to open the door. He knows it's only because you’ll let her watch whatever she wants on TV and don’t enforce bedtime. 

He hates having to resort to bugging you about this. It’s not like he can pay you for all the times you’ve watched his sister. Relying on you for free labor isn’t exactly the best lead into asking you out—not that he thinks you’d actually give him a chance. 

“Christ,” you prop the door open, just barely wide enough for your frame to fit in. You’re not especially welcoming. “What do you want now?”

Abby breaks free from his hold. She shoves through you and rushes into your house. You scoff, turning slightly to watch her. Mike rubs the back of his neck and grimaces. “Don’t tell me,” you stop him before he even gets a chance to start. “You’re back for unpaid labor?”

Mike’s face screwed up, even if it’s true, it still stings to hear. “Look, I’m sorry, I wouldn’t-”

“Do this if you didn’t have to,” you finish for him. With a brief sigh, you close the door and step outside with him. You’re in some of the skimpiest shorts he’s ever seen and an inappropriately flattering tank top. He’s struggling, as he usually does, not to just bolt. 

He finds you hard to talk to. Not just because of his usual aversion to the general public, but simply because of how intimidating you are. Besides your already blunt personality, he’s rarely ever had a crush this intense before. It’s hard to stomach these feelings, especially when he knows there’s nothing to be done about it. 

“I’ve heard the spiel before, Mike.” His face screws up at the bluntness of your words. You’re normally like this but you seem especially annoyed tonight. You take a seat on the rocking chair on your tiny porch and nod towards the other one. He takes it as a win that you’re not just kicking him to the curb.

You’ve made this place a home more than he’s bothered to. You’ve got a few potted plants littered around the porch, chairs, and your little glass table with an ashtray he’s never even seen you use. You don’t seem like a plant kind of girl, but they're doing better than any he’s ever attempted to take care of. 

“What is it this time, anyway? And what happened to your other babysitter?”

He rolls his eyes at the mention of Max. “I haven’t been able to get in touch with her all day. She just left Abby home alone the other night.” Your eyes narrow with anger and you let out a loud huff. 

“What a bitch,” you mutter, tucking your legs into your chest. 

Mike shrugs and picks at the hem of his sweatshirt. He hates talking to you, he doesn’t know how to. He never knows if what he’s saying is irritating you or not, you’re so hard to read. He barely knows anything about you, yet you’re the closest thing to a friend he’s ever got. 

“I’ve got a new job-”

“You didn’t tell me that,” you interrupt, and you almost sound… hurt? He doesn’t want to read too much into it, but he still offers you a whispered apology anyway. 

“I’ve been pretty busy, all this shit with my aunt and rent,” he gestures vaguely to his house across from yours and lets out a tired sigh. His head falls into his hands and he scrubs his hands down his face. He hates burdening you with his problems. It’s not on you to be his on-call babysitter and therapist. 

You place a light hand on his arm and for a moment he thinks he might be dreaming. You lean forward, forcing him to meet your eye. “Rent? Look,” your face screws up awkwardly and you force the next words out, “I’ve got money.”

“No,” he immediately interrupts, jerking away from your touch as his face sets in anger. He’s a lot of things, but he’s not a beggar. He’s not telling you this to get a handout. “No, I don’t want your money.”

You scoff and cross your arms, glaring at him. “I’m not offering it freely. Consider it a loan, alright?” He opens his mouth and you cut him off with a pissed-off look. “Just shut up and wait here.” You get up, slipping back inside your home. He hears you through the open window as you greet Abby. 

“How’s school?” You ask, rummaging through something. 

“I don’t know, fine,” she answers vaguely. 

He can hear you scoff in amusement, “Yeah, I hated school too.”

“Mac and cheese later?”

The door opens and you call a, “Sure, kid,” over your shoulder. It’s another reason he likes bringing Abby over to your place. You seem to be the only person she’s willing to give more than two words to. Besides, you can actually get her to eat somehow. 

You approach him with a slip of paper in your hand. You shove it into his unwilling hands and he lets out a rough sigh when he sees it’s a check. “Don’t argue,” you snap, sitting back in your chair and refusing to make eye contact with him. “You’ll pay me back.”

He says your name and you shake your head, clearly uncomfortable. “Forget it, just tell me about the new job.”

He scratches the back of his head, debating whether or not he should thank you for the help. It’s not a lot, he knows you’ve got about as much to spare as he does, and he’ll still need to finish this job. However, it is enough to put some food on the table without worrying about every penny. 

Still, you look incredibly disturbed by your own generosity, so he pockets the check and figures he’ll think of a different way to thank you. “It’s a security gig.”

“Really?” You smirk and turn towards him. “Someone hired you after what happened at the mall?” You give him a disbelieving look and he can feel the way his face heats up in embarrassment. 

“Yeah, well it’s pretty creepy. It’s at the old abandoned pizza place. Freddy Fazbear’s.”

Any amusement on your face is drained and you give him a horror-struck look. “What’d you say?” You whisper, voice stricken by something he can’t decipher. For a moment, he doesn’t even want to answer you. 

You’re completely unrecognizable, the usual stoicism he faces is replaced with absolute terror. “Um,” his brows scrunch in confusion and he clears his throat awkwardly, “Freddy Fazbear’s.”

Abruptly, you jump up from your seat and rush away from him. He watches as you run back to the door, his confusion only rising. He calls out your name but you just shake your head. “I gotta head inside, watch the kid.” It’s a rushed excuse and one he sees right through. “You should go.”

He doesn’t get a chance to question you as you slam the door closed. He gets up, but the lock clicks, and the window slams shut. Mike stands in front of your house, absolutely shocked by what just happened. He’s too confused to be concerned, wondering how what he just told you could have elicited that reaction. 

With a low exhale he turns on his heel and walks back to his car. He throws one last glance over his shoulder at your house, but you’ve clicked off the porch light, completely blocking him out. 

He shakes his head in astonishment, getting in the car and driving off to the pizza place. What the hell was wrong with you?

You’re glad Abby is in the bathroom as you catch your breath. Your back is plastered to your door, chest heaving as you fight off the oncoming panic attack. The last thing you need right now is her pestering you about what’s wrong. 

You clench your eyes shut, but when you do all you see is a golden back and the sharp glint of a knife. Your hand drifts towards your abdomen, subconsciously lingering over the scar. Your eyes shoot open and you shake your head, trying to force the memories of the night away. 

You haven’t heard that name in years, haven’t thought of it. You’d thought you’d gotten rid of it entirely. You should have known better, it was always going to haunt you. If you were less of a coward you would have moved away years ago and let the past be buried entirely. But you just couldn’t fully let him go, could you? 

The sink runs and the door is thrown open as Abby comes back to the living room. You force yourself away from the door and offer her a tense smile. Her eyes narrow in suspicion and it’s the first time you’ve despised how clever she is. 

“What’re you drawing?” You rush the words out, voice tight and panicked. You just need to distract yourself. You need to think about anything but that damn place. 

Her suspicion gives way to her typical eagerness to shove her sketches in your face. You don’t know much about kids, but you know she’s not what people consider normal. Not that you mind. However, you’ve never been a big fan of children in general, they bring about bad memories for you. Watching Abby so regularly was happenstance when you greeted Mike as they moved in. 

You’d never been the type to have freshly baked cookies and a welcome wagon for everyone in the neighborhood. For the most part, you all pretty much steered clear of each other. But Mike was cute and you felt like flirting for a little bit. 

You hadn’t expected him to be quite so awkward, or for there to be a kid. In a desperate attempt to end the conversation and escape how stilted the whole thing was, you offered help if he ever needed it. And he needed a lot. 

Now, your weekends have turned from one-night stands and hanging out with people you barely consider friends, to watching cartoons with a kid. You don’t mind it, but you’d prefer it if her brother were there to join you both. His stunted personality has a certain charm you find yourself drawn to. 

“Here,” Abby takes a seat on the floor and you join her. You tap your fingers against your thigh, trying to soothe your heartbeat back to a normal rate. Your mind is racing in a million different directions as you take the picture from her. 

It doesn’t help, if anything, you feel even worse. Bile and terror make for a bad combination as you stare down at her crudely drawn “friend.”

“That’s Freddy,” she tells you. “Chica, and Bonnie,” she’s all smiles as she points to the different caricatures. All you can do is nod, eyes peeled on the blue bunny. 

“You’ve been with Mike to the new job, huh?” Your voice is airy as you flip the paper over and shove it away. Abby frowns, snatching it back from you and smoothing out the wrinkles your grip left behind. 

“No. These are my friends.” 

Terror makes way for concern as you slowly turn towards her. “What?” You ask quietly, not wanting to believe what you’re hearing.

“They’re my friends,” she repeats slowly, giving you a disbelieving look. She turns away from you, huffing and picking up her crayons again. You scramble to your feet, rushing to get away from her. You grab your phone book and run to the landline. You go over the F’s a million times, but you can’t find Fazbear’s number anywhere. 

The entire night is turned into one long, agonizing wait for Mike to return home. You find yourself unable to eat or sleep. You move like you’re walking through a fog. Make Abby dinner, wait for her to pass out, and put her to bed. Then you sit and stare at the blank screen of the TV, just waiting for a knock on your door. 

At 5:30, you finally hear it. You shoot off the couch, rushing towards the door and throwing it open. You know you must look insane, eyes wide and face drained of blood as you drag Mike inside. 

He stumbles from your grip, giving you an affronted look as you slam the door closed behind him. He glances over his shoulder, making sure Abby isn’t woken up by the noise. “You need to quit!” You shove the words out in one rushed jumble. 

His brows furrow and he shakes his head, not quite understanding you. “What?” He asks, scoffing and looking away from you. He glances towards the messy couch and then back at you. “Have you been awake the whole night?”

“Mike,” you grab him by the shoulders, squeezing until he winces from your touch. “I need you to fucking listen to me, you cannot go back. You can’t go back.”

He places his hands over yours, threading his fingers through yours and trying to ease your grip off of him. Neither of you pays attention to the fact that he doesn’t let go. “What are you talking about? I can’t just quit.”

“Mike,” your voice carries a desperation you rarely let yourself show. You know that it’s difficult for people to read you. You’re aloof on purpose, anything to keep people away. But right now, you need him to recognize how vulnerable you’re being. You need him to see the fear and panic on your face and just fucking listen to you. 

“You need to leave that place behind and not look back, okay?”

He takes a step back from you and you know you’ve gone too far. You should have played it cool and approached the subject like a normal person would. But there’s nothing normal about Freddy Fazbear’s and you need him to know that. 

Instead, all you’ve done is properly terrify him away from you. He releases your hands like they’re hot irons and stumbles a few steps away from you. He has a placating smile on his face as he nods his head shallowly. “Alright, sure,” he mutters, not meaning a word of what he says. “I’m gonna get Abby. Need to get her to school soon.”

He rushes down the hall and you let yourself fall into your kitchen chair. Your head drops into your hands and a hollow pit of despair opens up inside you. You did this all wrong. You always do. Every time you try and help someone it turns back around on you. No one believed you the first time, why would they now?

You hear him walk past you, Abby’s grumpy voice demanding to know why she can’t stay longer. “Now,” he snaps, opening the door and pushing her out. It closes and you finally lift your head, expecting them both to be gone. 

Instead, Mike lingers by the door, he has a concerned look on his face as he approaches you. He kneels and opens his mouth with a low huff of breath, “Look,” his hands hover over yours like he wants to hold them. You tuck them away before he can, not willing to make eye contact with him. He shakes his head, stopping himself from whatever he was going to say. 

He stands back up, glancing down at you with a frown. “Just try and get some sleep.”

That’s rich coming from him, but you don’t bother saying anything. You only nod your head, willing him to just get the hell out of your house and take his sister with him. You tried, you can’t say that you didn’t. 

The door slams closed and you flinch at the noise, a flash of blue darting across your vision. You know it’s not real, it’s just a product of your lack of sleep. You can’t help searching for a pair of blue bunny ears, though. 

Dread sinks deep in your gut as you think of losing the closest thing to a friend you’ve had in years. Preemptive grief weighs heavy on you as you get up and throw yourself onto your couch. You imagine the pain of losing Mike and let it be what lulls you into a restless sleep. 

As insane as you were behaving yesterday, Mike still has little choice but to ask you to babysit once more. He hesitates, something is clearly going on with you. He’s never witnessed anything beyond vague disinterest in your interactions. 

How you acted yesterday would be out of character for anyone, but coming from you, he’s worried that there might be something seriously wrong with you. He doesn’t need to burden you further with his sister, but he needs this job. He’s backed between a rock and a hard place. 

He decides to come over without Abby, just to try and gauge how stressed you might be. Your porch light is on as he approaches the house, but he doesn’t see your car anywhere. He’s hoping it’s parked down the street. 

He didn’t give you much notice that he was coming over, but you rarely leave the house. When he first moved in, you were gone every night and there was a new car besides yours every other week. 

Nowadays though, you seem content to be a homebody most of the time. He’s about to knock on your door when he notices something pink shoved under the ashtray on your table. He frowns, his confusion only deepens when he sees his name scrawled in your unusually messy handwriting. 

He unfolds the paper, eyes roving over the words in disbelief. 

Mike, 

In case you need my unpaid services again, call someone else. I’ve got a date tonight that I’m not gonna reschedule to deal with a kid that isn’t even mine. Maybe you’re right, you really should just give her up to her aunt. God knows you don’t know what you’re doing. You’re a bad friend, but you’re a worse brother. Stop dragging me into your mess and just sort your life out. 

The further he reads, the more angry he gets. The paper is crumpled under his tight grip and he cusses as he tosses it into your rosebush. He doesn’t know what crawled up your ass and died, but he doesn’t feel like dealing with it tonight. 

As angry as he is, that you could throw something like that in his face, he still can’t help but worry about you. There’s something very wrong with you, lately. But it’s not his problem to solve, you’ve made that abundantly clear. 

You fiddle with the rings on your fingers, gnawing on your lip as your eyes dart out the window of your beat-up car. The longer you sit in this parking lot, the more guilt you feel. You know you wrote what you did for the best, but it doesn’t ease the sting of regret. 

You wrote some nasty shit to Mike, throwing his deepest insecurities back at him like it meant nothing. But you needed to make sure he didn’t come looking for you. You needed insurance that after all this he wouldn’t want anything to do with you. 

Freddy Fazbear’s dilapidated sign looms over you and you could almost cry looking up at it. You’ve run from this moment for so long. You’ve kept your back stubbornly to the past and refused to look. 

Surging memories have been buried in alcohol and sex. Remembrances of the past have been erased. You cut off your family, friends, and anyone who knew what happened to you. Yet, you couldn’t leave this town. You could never leave him behind, not when you know he’s still in there. 

The taste of bile has laid thick on your tongue since last night. You haven’t had a moment of true rest since hearing that name again, since seeing Abby’s picture. Never, have you labeled yourself as selfless or a hero. The whole reason you’re in this mess is because you’re a coward, through and through. 

Now, in an ironic twist of fate, you sit in the parking lot of your childhood and you wait to sacrifice yourself to some higher entity so Abby might have a chance of surviving. You know that what you’re hoping to accomplish tonight is a pipe dream, that you’re more likely going to die than you are to achieve anything fruitful. But you’re never going to be able to live with yourself if something happens to Mike and Abby and you don’t do anything. 

You can’t have someone else's blood on your hands again. You left Jeremy behind. You’re not going to do the same to them. You check the clock on your radio and suck in a deep breath. Adrenaline rushes through you as the sun slowly sets behind the pizza place. 

Your blood is tingling with the anticipation of being spilled. There’s a phantom twinge of pain from the scar on your stomach. You wince through it, turning off the car and throwing the door open. You’re praying that you’ve left Mike without a babysitter and he won’t show up to his shift tonight. 

You round the back of the pizzeria, frowning at the chain on the handle of the door. You brought bolt cutters for a reason, but you were hoping you might be granted a silent entrance. You cut through the chains and they clatter to the pavement, the noise echoes through the quickly darkening sky. 

You roll your eyes, pushing the rusted door open and slipping inside. So much for the element of surprise. The hinges creak behind you and you whirl around, grasping for the handle. The door slams shut with a loud slam before you can stop it. 

You shrink into yourself, glancing over your shoulder, already expecting someone to be standing at the other end of the hall. Instead, it remains empty. You don’t know if that's better or worse than what you were expecting. 

You pull your flashlight out of your back pocket, shine it down the hall, and step silently over the tipped-over filing cabinets. The place is nothing like you remember it. Gone are the bright neon lights and the sound of children’s laughter. 

Instead, it’s replaced by cobwebs, flickering lights, and a haunting silence that has chills rising along your arms. You keep one hand along the wall, ignoring the way dust seeps into the cracks of your palms. Your light darts between the ground and the cavernous dark before you. 

There’s a suspicious shadow at the end of this hall that you don’t trust. It’s too dark, and you swear you feel eyes following you. But you can’t tell which direction they’re coming from. Something loud cranks at the end of the hall, the sound of gears grinding together stops you where you are. 

You freeze, breath coming in short bursts of air as you slowly tilt the light towards the shadow. Before you can see what it is, a shrill, childish scream rips through the air. “Abby!” You shout, rushing towards the noise, ignoring the noises following quickly behind you. You burst through the door at the other end of the hall and freeze when you see Mike fighting off the cupcake. 

You rush towards him, slamming the bolt cutters through the faux frosting before it rips his fucking arm off. He stares up at you in shock, he’s already covered in blood and bandages and you can’t even begin to wonder what happened to him. 

He mutters your name in disbelief and you stumble back from him, letting the bolt cutters and animatronic drop to the ground. “Mike, what the hell are you doing here?”

He jumps to his feet, speaking to you with an accusatory tone, “What are you doing here? I thought you had a date,” you don’t miss the jealousy in his tone and you scoff. 

“You almost had your arm gnawed off by an animatronic, do you really think this is the time for that?”

He opens his mouth, to argue or concede you’re not sure, and another scream rips through you both. You turn towards the side door and your face screws up in fear. “Tell me I’m wrong, tell me that’s not Abby.”

His answer is shoving past you, shouting his sister’s name. You follow after him, barreling through another door and stumbling back as you watch the scene before you. Foxy paces across the room, dragging his hook along the old arcade games. 

Mike dives to the right, ducking behind a booth. You see his head begin to tilt towards you and you rush towards the stage, hiding behind it while you look around for Abby. You can’t see her anywhere and you don’t know if you should be relieved or throwing up. 

Something loud clanks above you and the walls of the stage tremor under your hands. You clamp your lips together, swallowing down a whimper as you slink further down the stage. The wood vibrates again and you can’t help the slight gasp you let out. 

Something clamps down on your shoulder, fuzzy and blue. You feel the metal pushing against the plush of the suit and he squeezes until you hear your shoulder cracking. There’s nothing that can stop the scream from ripping out of you as your bone shatters under his grip. Mike turns just as you're dragged onto the stage. 

You’ve only got one arm you can feel now. The other drags along the wood, longer than it should be. You can’t even feel the pain, your blood is pumping so hard you’re blind to it. You lash out at the hand holding you, groping for wires and pulling the second you feel them. 

It makes his grip loosen just enough for you to wiggle away from him. You’ve got oil coating your hand, blood drips down your arm. You can’t look, you know if you do, you’ll see your bones poking through your skin. If you look, you’ll pass out and there’s no telling what they’ll do to you then. 

His eyes narrow in on you and you scramble weakly on your one good arm. Freddy’s disappeared, and you don’t know where to. You can only look on in horror as Bonnie stalks towards you. Dying at the hands of the friend you’d left behind. It seems poetic, in a way. But you know this isn’t him. This is what that bastard has twisted him into. 

His good hand reaches out towards you and you do the only thing you can think of. “Jeremy!” He pauses, the orange light illuminating his plastic eyes flickering out only for a second. For a brief moment, you can see the frightened child within him once more. 

Then, something latches onto the back of your hair and slams your head down until the world goes dark. 

You glance around the pizzaplex, smiling as Jeremy blows out his candles. His parents hover behind him, bickering silently between each other. Jeremy looks at them, his big smile fading when he sees them fighting again. 

“Hey,” you grab his arm as the other kids dart greedily towards the cake. “Wanna play hide and seek again?” He looks at his cake, but he’s never had a sweet tooth. You know he just wants to keep playing, his parents practically had to drag him away from the stage for this. Only to be too busy fighting to wish him an actual happy birthday.

Jeremy nods eagerly, jumping off the bench and following after you. You laugh, darting underneath the balloon arch Mr. Afton had brought out for him. 

You and Jeremy come here every weekend, you’re practically best friends with his daughter Vanessa. She’s kind of weird, but you don’t hold it against her. Besides, being nice means Mr. Afton gives you both free pizza. 

The only reason Jeremy’s parents could afford to rent this place for his birthday was because Mr. Afton had offered them a big discount. You dart past the stage and hover at the edge of the ball pit. “One-two-three, not it!” You press your finger to your nose, laughing as Jeremy is just a second too late. “You’re looking first,” you command, shoving him slightly away from you. 

“Come on,” he whines, “it’s my birthday.”

“No cheating,” you tell him, practically stomping your foot. The big 8 on the paper crown he wears goes ignored as you point towards the booth behind you both. He lets out a loud sigh, stomping his way towards it and turning his back to you. He starts counting, loudly and skipping a few numbers. 

You narrow your eyes at his back but don’t hold it against him. Someone hisses behind you and you frown, turning to see Vanessa peeking out from behind a curtain on the stage. She gives you a weak smile, waving you forward. 

You look to your parents but they’re not paying attention as they talk to the other adults. You clamber on stage beside her, smiling up at Freddy and Bonnie. She grabs your wrist, not saying anything as she takes you to the back. 

“Vanessa?” You whisper, growing a little scared at the darkness of the room. It’s a stark contrast to the bright lights outside. 

“Shh,” she instructs, holding a finger to her lips and smiling. “Just wait here, okay? My dad says he’s got a surprise for you.” You watch as she leaves the room, you hear the lock click as the door closes and jump in surprise. 

“Vanessa?” You call out again, hoping this is just a stupid prank and she’s coming back. Loud, clambering footsteps ring through the hall outside the front door of the room and you gasp. You look around for a hiding spot, something sick twisting in your stomach. You know Vanessa said it’s all a surprise, but you’re scared. 

There’s nothing but empty animatronics around you. Mr. Afton told you to stay away from them, that the springlocks could hurt you. But you have nowhere else to go. You pop open the stomach of Sparky and curl yourself inside her, your eyes just barely looking through the top. 

“This way, birthday boy,” Mr. Afton’s voice croons outside. He opens the door, motioning Jeremy inside and you can almost see his smile through the golden bunny suit he wears. You’re starting to feel a little silly. Mr. Afton’s always been nice to you, why are you so afraid all of a sudden?

Jeremy walks in, a bright smile on his face as he looks around the repair room. He stops in front of a run-down Bonnie and looks back at Mr. Afton. He’s in your blind spot, covered by a shelving unit. You can’t see what he’s doing, but you see the way Jeremy’s face drops. 

“Mr. Afton-”

A golden hand shoves Jeremy’s face back. His brown eyes widen in surprise, the whites of them the only thing you can see. You can hear his muffled scream against Mr. Afton's paw.

Mr. Afton shoves Jeremy back, pressing him against Bonnie. Something silver flashes under the dim lights and you peek your head up. You watch as Mr. Afton runs a knife through Jeremy’s stomach and he shoves him into Bonnie's open chest. You clamp your hand over your mouth, dropping back down into Sparky. 

Your knee knocks into one of the metal springlocks and you have to fight everything in you not to surge forward as it digs through your intestines. You squeeze your hand over your nose and lips until you feel like you can’t breathe so you don’t scream. 

Blazing hot pain shoots through your stomach and legs, blood pools thickly down your dress and you can feel tears building along your waterline. Mr. Afton looks around the room, he rips the bunny head off and frowns. A vein bulges in his forehead as he calls out your name. 

He wipes the knife off and hides it behind his back. He places Bonnie’s head over Jeremy, “Vanessa?”

A moment later the door creaks open and a sheepish Vanessa pokes her head inside. She looks around the room, frowning when she doesn’t see either of her friends. “Where is she?” Mr. Afton demands. 

She shrugs, “I don’t know. I left her in here.” Her eyes narrow and she looks close to tears. “What was the surprise, Daddy?”

Mr. Afton lets out an irritated sigh and waves his non-blooded paw. “Forget that, we need to get back outside.” He rushes towards her, dragging the bunny head behind him, and shoves her back through the door. 

The second he’s gone, you’re openly sobbing. Hot tears pour down your cheeks as putrid bile shoves against the walls of your throat. You push Sparky’s stomach open and gasp when you see the large hole in your stomach. 

The other springlocks twitch threateningly as you tug at the one buried inside you. You take in a deep breath and rip it out, forcing yourself to leap away just as the others close. Your blood is dragged along the concrete as you crawl towards Bonnie. 

“Jeremy?” You call out, head swimming so much you can’t even feel pain anymore. Your fingers are cold as you dig fruitlessly at Bonnie’s stomach. You tug and tug, falling back as the panel swings open. 

You can’t see Jeremy’s head, you only see the springlocks digging into his small body. “Jeremy!” You scream, you scream so loud, Mr. Afton can’t even stop the parents from finding you before he does. 

You pass out from blood loss before they reach you. In that time he manages to paint you as two misbehaving children. You snuck backstage and messed with animatronics you had no business being around. He said you both must have tried to wear the old suits and there was no way of proving him wrong. 

So much damage was done to Jeremy’s body, that they wouldn’t be able to find a knife wound even if they knew to look for one. No one would believe you when you told them he killed him. They just thought you were trying to avoid getting in trouble. 

Mr. Afton only managed to keep the pizzeria open for a few more years. But you never went back. You couldn’t. You never forgave him and you never forgot your friend. 

The smell of cleaning products and the familiarity of a sterile hospital room greet you as you wake up. Your vision is slow to come back. Eyes foggy and blinded by the bright lights of the room you’re in. 

Your fingers twitch at your side and you’re relieved to find your arm still works, even after it was practically shattered by a haunted puppet. You groan, squeezing your eyes shut and forcing them to focus. A messy head of brown hair lays at your side. 

Mike is draped across the hospital bed, completely passed out. You find yourself smiling slightly at the sight. You slowly bring yourself into a sitting position and poke at him. “Mike,” you whisper, voice hoarse from lack of use. 

There’s a throbbing in your head that pulses along your optic nerve. Your face screws up as you reach towards the bandages wrapped around your temple. You’re honestly just happy to even be alive. You can deal with migraines for a few weeks. 

He jolts up, slightly disoriented as he stares at you. You offer him a weak smile and he lets out a sigh of relief. “You’re awake.”

“Apparently,” you mutter. You glance around him, a frown forming on your face. 

“She’s getting some snacks,” he tells you before you can even ask. “Abby’s fine.”

You let out a breath of relief, sinking back into the pillows. Maybe it wasn’t all for nothing, then. “You knew them,” he says. “Or, the bunny, at least.”

You nod your head weakly, any energy you had has been sapped out of you from the relief that both Mike and Abby are okay. “Yeah, I used to.”

“Are you going to tell me how you knew them?”

You take his hand in your own, surprising the both of you. “Some other time, alright? I think I want a date first before we start trading childhood trauma.”

He stutters and stumbles over his words, brows furrowing as he gives you a disbelieving look. “Did you just ask me out? While you’re still concussed?”

“Are you saying no?”

He opens his mouth but quickly closes it. He lets out a low chuckle and shakes his head. “You’re impossible.”

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.” Abby comes rushing back into the room before either of you can say anything else. She smiles at you when she sees you’re awake. She jumps onto the bed, uncaring of the way her knees dig into your legs. 

“Careful, Abs,” Mike scolds. You wave him off and he rolls his eyes. 

“I made you something,” Abby tells you. She hands you a picture and you let out a sharp breath. 

It’s you and Jeremy. Granted, crayon versions of the two of you. But it’s him all the same, as the boy you knew, no longer the monster he was turned into. You feel tears building in your eyes as you tug Abby into a fierce hug. “Thank you,” you whisper, holding the drawing close to your heart. 

You’d like to pretend that you’ve gotten closure from all of this. Jeremy’s been put to rest and you can move on with your life now. Now, you can have a family again, have friends again. But that would be a lie.

You still feel him, as you always have. He’s a shadow clinging to your back, a haunted past you’ll never be able to let go of. He always comes back. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the games/movie Five Nights at Freddy's (FNAF), but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

Part Four of How About a Nuke just posted!!

Are there more logan fics in the works?👀

Yes!

I don't know if you guys care about this but I do have a list of WIP's:

-Old Man Logan Hc's -I was considering a monster!fucker esque fic but I'm not sure -a couple hurt/comfort requests -Lumberjack!Logan -a handful of X-Men reader requests with varying powers

I am still writing for him, I'm just having a little bit of writer's block because I keep bouncing between too many ideas lol

plus some other miscellaneous Hugh stuff (Van Helsing and some godawful magician movie he was in)

hi! where did you edit your header? thank youuu 🫶🏻

Hiii, I edit on picsart (mobile specifically on my iPad because the online version doesn’t work the same for me). I'm gonna include pictures in this bc as someone who can't edit for her life, picsart is actually a godsend.

I usually find my pictures on Pinterest (your theme) +aesthetic gives me all the pretty pictures, then I'll download some dividers off of here and add them to the image.

But these are the steps I take to make all my headers:

I use the blank option on Picsart first

The go to shape for the blank option is a small square, but that doesn’t translate super well on tumblr so I’ll click the fit option

For headers or banners for fics, I like using the X post size, as highlighted below

Once you do that, the background’s no longer going to be transparent so you have to click the little icon below

then from there you click the transparent background option

After that I add all my pictures, get them lined up how I want and when I’m finished I usually crop the size down. It takes a little bit of experimenting before you figure it all out, but I’ve gotten addicted to it lol

For headers, I use the X post size option. But for stuff like my masterlist and about me page I just go with the square shape. It really just depends on what you want

reblog if you’re a writer who feels guilt whenever they’re not writing and being productive, so I know I’m not the only one lol

How About a Nuke?

Series Summary: You were on top of the world before the world ended. An up and coming actress with the man everyone wanted on your arm. Then the bombs dropped and you disappeared. Two hundred years later, neither of you are prepared to find each other again.

Completed Series

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

Part VIII

Part IX

Bad Day

pt. two

part one

Bo Sinclair x fem!reader, Vincent Sinclair x fem!reader (not together, I don’t do that twincest shite) warnings: reader embracing the dark side, graphic descriptions of violence Summary: Another set of tourists, but this one’s different. You actually have to meet this group. They’re particularly difficult, too, causing more damage than any of you expected. Can you survive the night, again?

You focused on the way the knife glinted as it spread mayonnaise over the bread. You watched it glide through the thick substance and brought it back down, flipping the blade and smoothing and spreading it-

Your fingers tightened around the handle and you winced as you slammed your eyes shut. You couldn’t be around blades, even ones as dull as this, without thinking of that night. 

You’d fought, more than anyone else ever had, Bo told you. You’d also killed one of your friends in cold blood, no one had ever done that either. 

He had been tied up and vulnerable and you hadn’t even given him a fair shot at surviving you. 

You didn’t feel guilty about it, and that’s the part that haunts you. You didn’t try to justify your actions and cry yourself to sleep over the guilt you felt for being alive while your friends lay scattered throughout town. You slept deeply, peacefully, in the arms of the men who murdered them. 

You’d wake up after having a dream about that night and you would feel exhilarated because it had been the first time you’d ever truly stood up for yourself. You reveled in the power you’d felt when you’d swung that ax into his neck. 

You didn’t even remember their names. 

How fucked up was that?

You basked in the memories of their demise but their faces were lost to you. One blur that bled together the more you tried to picture them. 

You didn’t mourn them or feel pity, you felt no guilt, and that’s what fucked with you. Were you a bad person?

You had to be. 

But you’d never been one before Ambrose. 

You distracted yourself from the thoughts. You’d spiral and never get back up if you let yourself go down the rabbit hole. You tore off a piece of turkey and threw it at Jonesy, she pounced on it the second it hit the floor. 

You finished the sandwiches, one going into a brown paper bag the other a plate that you wrapped with plastic. You left the kitchen, winding around boxes and junk that they called sentimental. You’d gotten into a nasty fight with Bo a few months ago about cleaning the house up a little, but he had refused. 

You hadn’t realized how many beers he’d had that night and chosen the wrong moment to suggest change. Something he was staunchly against. He hadn’t hit you, never had, but he’d thrown a bottle near your head, the glass shattering and bouncing off the wall. Some of it had hit you, scraping up the back of your arms and legs. It wasn’t too bad, but you hadn’t felt that terrified of him since the night you came here. 

You’d been petty, stolen his keys and camped out in one of the houses in town. You hadn’t been able to get any sleep, not with the wax family watching you, but it had gotten the message across. Lester had told you Bo thought you’d left and lost his fucking shit. Vincent, apparently, had been even worse. 

By the time you got back the house was in worse shape then when you’d left. 

Bo had told you he’d think about cleaning some of the stuff out. That had been three months ago.

You grabbed the flashlight off their father’s desk and used the hatch in the office, dropping down into Vincent’s lair. Vincent, when he’d discovered just how much you hated the darkness that led into his workspace, had started leaving a flashlight out for you. 

When Bo got pissed at you he’d hide it. You’d have to crawl to him and beg for it back. 

You’re pretty sure he didn’t care what it was that he stole, he just wanted to exercise some control over you. Remind you of your place in this town, under him.

The flashlight was a nice thought from Vincent, but it didn’t really help you much. You used it anyway, wanting him to know you appreciated how much he cared. Because you’re pretty sure he’s the only real reason you’re alive. 

When Bo had caught you down here, standing over Owen’s dead body, he told you he didn’t know if he was going to keep you alive or not. You knew he meant it, he wasn’t teasing you or playing around, he genuinely did not know what to do with you. You were an outlier in a long list of repetitive victims. 

Vincent swept in behind him, glanced down at the ax, the injuries all over your body, and hesitantly stepped towards you. They looked at each other, a silent conversation laying in their gazes.  

Vincent took a slow step towards you and you recognized his actions for what they were. A test. 

Earlier, you’d seen Vincent try to help his brother, ease his pain and wrap up his wounds. Bo had reacted cruelly, the only thing he seemed to be capable of. 

You watched with a blank stare as Vincent kneeled down in front of you, brushing his fingers over the scraped skin of your knee. 

You jumped slightly at the burn of flesh against your wound, but otherwise didn’t react. Slowly, he stood back up, grabbing your arm with a gentleness that wasn’t present in your first meeting. He led you back to his desk, flipping over the drawing of your face and pulling out bandages. 

Some of them he had to toss to the side because they were covered in wax, others he used on you. 

Bo watched it all with a frown on his face and crossed arms. “What the hell are you doin’?”

Vincent’s head shot up and his arms tightened around you. Again, you forced yourself not to react, not to flinch away from his hold and grimace as you heard his muffled breath next to your ear. Vincent didn’t say anything, didn’t move his hands to communicate, he blocked you in like a guard dog and after a moment you heard Bo cussing and storming out. 

He mentioned something about getting the restg of your group, but nothing after that. You could only relax once you heard the basement hatch slam shut. “Thank you,” you whispered to Vincent. He grunted, but offered nothing else. 

His fingers were quick, precise in the way they cleaned and wrapped your wounds. They were also surprisingly gentle for someone who had just slammed a blade through your friend's skull. 

Vincent kept you squirreled away down there, sleeping on a cot in the corner of his large and stuffy studio. You weren’t sure how many days or weeks had passed with him idly sketching you and sculpting different wax animals for you, the lack of windows made it hard to tell, but you do know you were much better off here than in Bo’s dungeon. 

You’d learned bits of sign language from him, you were bored and he seemed eager to teach you. To finally have someone who would speak his language too. 

He was kind in his own way, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t eager to get the fuck out of there. 

Bo had stormed down one day, saw you, and lost his goddamn shit. Apparently, he’d thought Vincent was only keeping you around for a bit of fun and then killing you. The fact that you were still alive, and being taken care of, nearly gave him an aneurysm. 

Again, Vincent hadn’t let Bo hurt you. He’d protected you from his brother’s wrath and forced Bo to accept that you were staying. 

Sometimes you wished you weren’t kind to him. That you had yelled, kicked, and clawed at him. Called him a freak and told him to go to hell and find his precious momma. You would be dead, sure, but you wouldn’t be here. 

Thoughts like that had disappeared a long time ago, left with the summer heat. You knew it wasn’t Stockholm syndrome, you’d been a psych student before your world was flipped on its axis. You knew what the signs were, but this wasn’t loving them to save yourself. 

This was accepting that there was no place for you in society anymore, not after what you’d done. Not after you’d actually helped Vincent sculpt his wax around Allison’s pretty face. 

You’d enjoyed it, a sick satisfaction from seeing the bitch dead, your survival a victory over her. 

When she’d been alive she had a top. This really cute white, lacy number and no matter how many times you asked, she would never let you borrow it. She had no qualms stealing your clothes and never giving them back, but god forbid you ever even looked at that top.

It hung in your closet now, yours to do with whatever you pleased. You smiled every time you thought about it. 

“Vince?” You knocked on the doorway and clicked the flashlight off as the door creaked open. The warm glow of candlelight leaked out into the dark abyss. You slipped inside, shuddering at the rush of heat that hit you. It wasn’t always hot in here, only when he was preparing a new batch of wax. 

You frowned, he only did that when there were visitors coming. Lester must’ve called ahead, told them he spotted someone on the road. You closed the door behind you walking towards his desk and dropping the plate on top. Your fingers skimmed over the sketches, catching on another one of you. 

You picked it up and smiled, it was a sketch of you curled up on the couch with Jonesy, your face pressed into her fur as you slept. You remember waking up from that nap, frowning when you heard wood creaking behind you but not seeing anything. 

What a weird little stalker. He knew he could ask to sketch you and you didn’t mind, but he always ran away like you were gonna be mad at him. You shook your head, placing it back down, and walked further into his studio. 

You found him sitting at his table, curled over something you couldn’t make out. You could see his wrist flicking, the carving tool in his hand, and figured he was making another animal for you. You already had a whole shelf full of different animals, practically your own wax zoo. 

“Hey,” you whispered, hands creeping slowly along his shoulders. He tensed slightly before he leaned into you. “Brought you lunch.” His movements paused to sign, Thank you.

You glanced down at his hair, curling around him like a dark curtain and frowned. “Vince, you got wax in your hair again.” He shrugged and continued working. You sighed, walking back towards his desk and rustling through drawers until you found the brush you’d left down here for him.

Sometimes you think he does this on purpose because he likes how you take care of him. You ran the brush through his hair a few times trying to make sure you’d gotten all the wax out. He let out a low groan, his head tilting back and thudding against your chest as you stood behind him. 

You chuckled, scratching your fingers along his scalp and he let out a long sigh, melting into you. You’d have to force him into the shower later, to wash everything out of his hair. It was astounding how stubborn both brothers were about just showering. 

You weren’t sure why they resisted so much, maybe it was something that happened between them and their parents. Either way, it was a fight to get them near the water and even then you had to bribe them with your body, luring them in like a siren just so you could wash the grime off. 

You braided Vincent’s hair away from his face and he stilled, temporarily becoming your doll while you did what you wanted to him. He was always a bit easier than his brother. He was eager to please, even more eager for your praise. For you to tell him you were proud of him. 

You leaned down, pressing a kiss against the waxed cheek of his mask. “Eat your lunch, please.” He nodded but the second you backed off he was back to carving into the block of wax before him. You sighed and glanced around his space, collecting the dishes of other half-eaten meals you’ve brought down. 

The bell rang above you and you let out a sigh or relief as you stepped into Bo’s shop. A cool breeze rustled the fabric of your top. Seems like he got the air conditioning up and running again, even in winter you could still wear a tank top and shorts and be sweating. “Bo?”

“Back here!”

You walked towards the garage, brown bag clutched tightly in your hands and poked your head in. He was bent over, head under the hood of a car and oil smeared all over his coveralls. Your eyes traveled over the car he was working on, wincing when you realized it was yours. 

You hadn’t used it since you’d gotten here. You’d seen Bo towing it in, along with Owen’s but you’d always avoided paying too much attention to it. You weren’t sure why he bothered working on it, maybe it was a taunt towards you or he was just bored. You never really knew with him. 

“Brought lunch,” you offered, walking towards his work table and jumping on top, the bag going next to your thighs. He lifted himself up, looking towards you and smiling. 

“Thanks, hun,” you hummed in response, sticking your neck out as he approached. He chuckled, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. 

He reached for the bag, pulling out his lunch and taking too big of a bite. “‘M gonna have to go up to the house,” he mumbled through a mouth full of sandwich. “Need to change before our visitors get here.”

You nodded, staying quiet as he stared at you. You’d gotten used to this look and even more used to what was about to happen after. He’d tell you to follow him and would help you off the desk, deceptively sweet as he tugged you down to the room below the garage. 

Then he would tape you up, muttering to himself about not letting you leave. You’d submit easily, letting him do what he wanted. It was easier than trying to tell him you were staying. 

But his gaze shifted back to the car and you frowned at the side of his face. He should’ve told you to move by now. Instead he leaned back against the desk, his hand skimming your own. He didn’t look at you while he spoke. 

“Want you to work on your car.”

You blanched, eyes going wide as you stared at him. That wasn’t even close to what you were expecting. You had gotten so used to sitting under that grate, listening to the screams of his victims as he hunted them down. Now, he wanted you up here, wanted you to see it. 

What was he doing?

“What?”

“Yeah,” he grinned, “fucked somethin’ up, want you to fix it.” He crumpled the bag into a ball, tossing it into the trash can and turned back towards you. You didn’t see anything on his face that would give away why he was keeping you up here on the surface and it set you on edge. 

This had to be some sort of test. Maybe he was seeing if you would try and use the new victims to escape or warn them off. Or he wanted to see if you could pretend like you belonged, go along with his act and keep the victims feeling safe and compliant while he killed them off. 

What the fuck?

You were used to how things worked in Ambrose. There was a system set in place, one you had learned to follow. This went against what you’d come to know and it was setting you on edge as you watched him walk off, heading up the hill and towards his house. 

You stayed glued to the desk for a while, you weren’t sure how long, but it was enough time for Bo to have cleaned up. He popped his head inside the garage, suit on, and frowned. “What’re you doing? Move your ass.”

You jumped, leaping off the work table and rushing towards the car. He laughed at your panicked movements, staying a moment to admire your ass as you bent over the hood before you heard his boots on the gravel, heading towards the church. 

You didn’t appreciate this switch up with him, how erratic his moods and behaviors were. He made it impossible to track and read him, to fully understand why he worked the way he did. 

You were grateful that, at the very least, he had given you a distraction from trying to figure out what this test was and if you were in trouble or not. 

You inspected the car, forcing yourself to remember everything he’s taught you while you’ve lingered in his shop. 

“Oh, they're right here.”

You jumped, rolling out from underneath the car and glancing towards the doorway that connected the garage to the auto shop. Two unfamiliar voices echoed within Bo’s shop. 

“Fan belts?”

“Yeah,” a guy and a girl. You poked your head over the top of the car and saw the guy was a lot taller than you and broader. Shit, you really hoped you didn’t run into him once they figured out what was going on up here. “But he doesn’t have the right size.”

“Just pick one, Wade, I don’t want to be in here much longer.”

“Alright, just hold on Carly.” You grabbed a rag, wiping your hands off and stepping towards them. 

“You plannin’ on stealin’ that?”

They both jumped, whipping around towards where you leaned in the doorway arms crossed over your chest. “No,” the guy rushed to defend himself, his girlfriend shaking her head frantically. “We left some money on the counter, we just needed to get out of here, that’s all.”

“There you are,” you all turned towards Bo. His posture matched your own, leaned against the entrance to the shop, hands tucked in his pockets. God, he looked good. Now that you weren’t fighting for your life you could fully appreciate how handsome he looked all cleaned up. Bo glanced at you then back to the other two, “She botherin’ you?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, glaring at him over their shoulders. He winked when they faced you and you figured he was putting on another show. Huffing out an irritated breath you rolled your eyes and turned back towards your car. You frowned at the oil streaked along your skin and clothes, you’d never be able to get the stains out. 

“Oh,” Carly started, shaking her head and glancing back at you again. “No, of course not, we just didn’t know that there was anyone in the shop.”

“She’s new, don’t like lettin’ her around customers, too much attitude.” You could practically see his smirk from under the car. He was probably so proud of himself, being able to tease you without you snapping back for once. 

“She’s fine, um, I left some money on the counter, but you don’t have any fifteens.” You watched as Bo’s feet moved towards the register, most likely pocketing the money. “Is that enough?”

Bo’s tone was easy going, the perfect southern gentleman as he helped a poor lost couple. “Close enough. You know, I’ve got the right size up at the house. Only a couple blocks from here…”

You forced yourself deaf, trying to block out the rest of their conversation. These people weren’t exactly assholes and they didn’t seem particularly deserving of what was about to happen. Your friends were bad people, you didn’t feel guilty about them, but there was something about this couple that had your stomach burning in anxiety. 

Maybe this was why Bo had you outside, playing mechanic with him. He wanted you to see the harsh reality of what it was they did here. you couldn’t always cover your ears and pretend it wasn’t happening. Was this what the test was? See how committed you were to him and Vincent, to Ambrose. 

You used the car as a cover, dropping the wrench beside you and covering your face as you tried to decide whether you were going to cry or throw up. It was fine, the idea of all this, when you were hidden under the grate. The straps were a reminder that it could be you up there being hunted again. 

Being face to face with the victims was entirely different. 

A hand slammed down on the roof of the car, the metal reverberating around you, “Hey!”

You screamed, jumping up and nearly hitting your head on the underbelly of the car. You rolled out, glaring at Bo while he stood smiling down at you. He kneeled down, laying a hand around your thigh and squeezing. 

“You’re gonna stay here, keep an eye out for any more of their friends, and behave. Okay?”

You nodded and he dug his nails in, “Yes, Bo.” 

“Good girl,” he stood up and walked towards the garage door. You watched him, afraid to take your eyes off his back. He turned back around, one last lingering look that had you feeling cold, “Don’t fuck up.” You flinched as the garage door slammed down behind him. 

“Help! Help me, please!” You jumped up and ran to the front of the auto shop. Carly ran face first into you, her fingernails digging painfully into your skin as she looked behind her. 

“Shit,” you grabbed her biceps and pulled her away. “What’s going on?”

She backed up, wiping her eyes and gulping as she tried to catch her breath. “That- that guy, Bo, I think he did something to my boyfriend.”

“Alright, calm down, it’s okay.” God, you were just as freaked out as her. What the fuck were you supposed to do? “Let me get the phone, we’ll call someone.”

She nodded, running to the door and locking it. She pressed her face against the glass and peered outside, keeping an eye out for him. You knew you didn’t have long before she started to get suspicious. The station had a working phone, but there was no way in hell you were actually about to call the cops on Bo. 

You paced back and forth, running your hands through your hair as you looked around, trying to find a solution. Your eyes snagged on the wrench by the car. You whipped your head over your shoulder, Carly was still stuck to the window. You ran for it, grabbing it and turning back towards her. 

You raised your hand up, wincing as she caught your eye in the reflection of the glass. “What’re-”

She crumpled to the ground with a thud, crimson pooling around her arms. 

You saw in the reflection Bo approaching you from behind, back in his coveralls. “Atta girl!” You didn’t react when he slung his arms over your shoulders, squeezing you and planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek. “Did good, baby.” He released you, huffing out a big sigh and walking over to the girl, “Alright, grab her ankles.” His tone was no longer adoring going right back to business. 

You looked at him like he was crazy, ”Bo, what?”

You dropped the wrench to the ground and he frowned from where he was picking up her wrists. “You got a problem?”

”Yeah! What the fuck are you doing? Why am I doing this?” He dropped her arms unceremoniously and you winced at the crack they made against the cement. He stepped over her, stalking towards you and you stumbled back, heart beating faster in fear. 

His hand snapped out, grabbing you before you could make it far. You whined as he dug his nails into your cheeks, puckering your lips and gripping your jaw hard enough for it to creak. “You’re doing this ‘cause I said to. Do we have a problem?”

He was so good at making you feel small. You wonder how Vincent’s put up with it all these years. “No, Bo,” your words were muffled by his grip, but he got the message. He released you, but you didn’t go far, his arm wrapping around waist and pulling you into his chest. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, his hand coming up to push some of your hair back. “It’s alright, darlin.’ We all make mistakes, right?” His tone was condescending, his smirk even more so, but you played along like he wanted you to. Nodding and accepting when he pressed a violent kiss to your mouth, your teeth clashing together and lip splitting from the force of it. 

He backed away from you, chuckling loudly and going back to the unconscious girl on the floor. You grabbed her by the ankles like he’d told you to and helped him drag her down to the basement. He propped her head on your shoulder while he unlocked the door and you struggled under her dead weight. 

“Why is she going down here, Bo?”

Your mind went to the Polaroids covering the walls, the things he’s had you do in that chair and you felt anger burning in your gut. Not worry or fear for her like you should feel, but white hot burning rage at him for trying to pull something like this.

He looked over his shoulder at your expression and grinned, “Nothin’ like that, baby. Little bitch put up a fight and wrecked my truck, I ain’t done with her yet.” 

A good person would wince and whisper and apology to the unconscious girl, say they were sorry for the pain she was about to experience. Instead you felt sated, relieved, and completely fine with hauling her body up into the chair and taping her down. 

You held her legs down as he taped them and she started to move around. Bo tossed you some superglue and you gripped her by the jaw, clamping her lips shut and pouring glue over the seam of her mouth. She whimpered and you ignored her, moving mechanically, distancing yourself from the fact that she was a real moving person. In her place was a wax statue, full of imperfections that you needed the glue to fix. 

All three of you looked up through the grate at the sound of the boots stomping in the garage above you. Bo shared a look with you and nodded towards the door. You let the girl go, slipping out of the basement and closing the door behind you. You came up through the entrance behind the register, glancing outside to see a man in front of the garage. 

You let out a breath of relief, closing the door to the shop as you stepped into the garage, he hadn’t got a chance to see the pool of blood. “Can I help you?”

He turned around, a particularly bitchy look on his face. “Looking for my sister, Carly, seen her?”

There was a loud yelp and you frowned. You walked towards the work table, reaching for the stereo and turning the volume to Bo’s music on. You covered the grate from his view as Deftones blasted through the small garage. 

“Sorry, it’s my dog, she hates new people.”

He gave you an awkward smile and nodded. “Yeah, might’ve seen her. Pretty girl, blonde hair?”

He nodded his head, giving you an appraising look. You weren’t sure if he didn’t believe you or was checking you out. You really preferred that he didn’t believe you, you weren’t prepared to deal with Bo if he thought someone was moving in on you. ”My boss, Bo, took her and her boyfriend up to his house a few minutes ago. They were lookin’ for a fan belt.”

“His house?”

You shrugged, “He keeps extra shipments there. Wasn’t too long ago, you want me to take you?” 

He sucked on his teeth, shaking his head and backing away. “No, I’m good, thanks though.”

You panicked, fists clenching as you watched him retreat. “It's really no problem.”

“I said I’m good,” he snapped. 

You could see Bo creeping up behind him, the same wrench you used on the guy’s sister in his hand. If he turned around he would see Bo. Carly was easy to take out, she was small, trusting. This guy looked built and like he’d been in a few too many fights. “Wait!” You shouted, too scared to come up with a good distraction. 

He glared at you and opened his mouth to say something just as Bo struck. The wrench came down on the guys head with a disturbing crack, but he didn’t fall like he should have. He stumbled forward and whirled around on Bo, his fist catching him in the jaw and tackling him to the ground. 

You could clearly see blood pouring down the back of his head, but he remained unphased as he  pounded into Bo. “Shit,” you cursed, darting to the side to pick up another weapon but you failed to notice how the man had stopped beating Bo. He must’ve seen you moving somehow because in a split second something was slamming into your side and the air was leaving you as you were slammed into the cement. 

You groaned, feeling like your lungs had collapsed and curled up in an attempt to protect yourself as he directed his attacks towards you. “Nick!” A shrill voice screamed from the grate. “Nick!” He leapt off of you, heading back towards Bo and ripping the keys off his belt as he made a run for it. 

Your vision was red, blood pouring down from a cut on your forehead. You took in a painful breath, your lungs wheezing, your ribs had apparently taken the majority of his punches. With your brain pounding against your eyes you rolled onto your knees and crawled towards Bo. 

He wasn’t as badly injured as you had thought he would be, must’ve gotten in a few hits of his own. “Bo,” you grabbed his shoulders, gently shaking him. “Bo!” You tried again, shouting this time and slamming his head down on the cement. 

He groaned and you let yourself fall back, head lolling on your shoulders as you tried to get your vision to stop swimming. “Shit, he got me.” Bo sat up, wiping the blood from under his nose, “Get home.” He ordered, tone not leaving any room for an argument. You nodded as he stormed off, but instead of going home like he told you to, you laid down on the cold cement and groaned. 

Should lungs hurt?

You eventually managed your way to the house, once you’d got breath back, your injuries weren’t as bad as you’d thought they’d been. You stumbled into the doorway, glancing at a trail of blood leading into the office and trudging your way to the fridge. You grabbed a beer and threw yourself down on the couch. 

It didn’t take long to hear footsteps creeping towards you. Your heart clenched when you saw how hesitant Vincent was to get near you. You loved Bo, but he could be a real fucking dick to his brother. You leaned your head against the cushion, rolling it to the right and smiling at Vincent. 

It seemed to be enough for him to feel comfortable approaching you. He kneeled on the floor beside you and fussed over your scrapes. “I’m fine, really,” you reached up, taking his hand in yours and trying to give him a reassuring smile. “I think they got Bo pretty bad, though.”

He tugged his hands from yours, taking off his gloves and signing. How bad

”One of the guys, he’s pretty strong, busted his sister out from the basement after attacking me and Bo. Actually managed to knock Bo out for a minute.”

Stay here

“Wait-” you reached out, trying to grab the back of his sweater but he was already making a run for the front door. It slammed closed behind him, his truck starting up a minute later. You sighed and fell back against the couch, letting your eyes shut as you tried to relax. 

You hadn’t realized just how relaxed you’d gotten until you heard the door slam. You jumped up, glancing out the living room window and realizing how dark it’d gotten. You moved off the couch, placing your beer on the coffee table and heading into the kitchen. 

Bo was leaning on the counter, already a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He was completely soaked in blood, his nose leaking and a bandage wrapped around his arm. “Holy shit, Bo, what happened?” 

You ran forward, hands instinctively going to the arrow buried in his arm. “Back off!” He snapped. You frowned and stepped back from him, trying not to upset him any further. You heard the rumble of a truck on the driveway and you glanced through the window. 

Two bodies lay in the bed of Vincent’s yellow truck, a blonde girl and some guy you hadn’t seen before. Vincent jumped out, Jonesy following behind him, and made his way towards the door. You opened it before he could, grabbing him by the cardigan and making sure he wasn’t hurt like Bo. 

He took your hands in his and shook his head, gently moving you back. “What have I told you about leaving without me?” Bo shouted. “You wait for me!”

Vincent nodded, not bothering to respond to Bo. There was a moment of tense silence before Bo offered a half-hearted smile to Vincent, “We’re almost done, Vinnie, momma would be proud of ya.”

It was the closest to an apology Vincent would ever get, you all knew it. Bo can’t apologize, his parents had permantly fucked with his psyche, and it started with his dad doing a risky surgery to seperate his boys. Vincent’s face would permanently be ruined but you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Bo had gotten the fucked mental end of the separation. 

“How many are left?” You asked, reluctantly releasing Vincent’s hands. 

“The girl and her brother,” Bo paced, taking a swig of his whiskey. He hissed and clutched his hurt arm. “Alright, help me out with this.”

You had to hold yourself back from snapping at him. Oh, can I help now? Dick. You grabbed hold of what was left of the arrow and yanked as hard as you could, Bo clenched his teeth and let out a loud pained groan. You winced at the amount of blood that started coming out, Vincent moved you to the side, already having a bandage ready and tying it tight around Bo’s arm. 

“Where do you think they headed?”

Bo grunted, speaking through clenched teeth, “House of Wax.”

You nodded and stepped back from him once it seemed like Vincent wouldn’t need your help. “I’ll go with you both.”

”No,” Bo shouted and Vincent shook his head wildly. 

“Don’t be a dumbass, you need my help. They’ve already kicked your ass, I’ll stay out of sight, promise. I just want to be there in case they get the upper hand.” Bo looked unsure and Vincent was still shaking his head. You placed a comforting hand on both of their arms and begged, “Please. Let me help.”

Bo shook his head and your stomach dropped, worried he would say no. Finally he let out a long sigh, “Stick with Vincent.”

You nodded, feeling Vincent’s hand grab onto yours as he led you outside. Bo grunted and slowly followed after you both, his left arm stiff beside him. 

You followed Vincent into the bowels of the House of Wax, he moved slowly, keeping one hand behind him to make sure you didn’t bolt. You weren’t planning on it, but they didn’t seem to completely trust you for some reason. 

You heard footsteps ahead, quck and frantic, rushing through his workshop. Vincent pulled out his bone handle daggers and ran down the rest of the steps. You stayed on the stairwell, keeping your head peaked around the corner. 

The brother was in there, rushing through the workshop and knocking shit over without a care in the world. He hadn’t noticed Vincent yet, too busy looking for something. You weren’t sure what he wanted, or what the plan was until you saw him grab a pile of sheets, getting ready to throw them in the fire that kept the wax warm. 

Shit, he was going to set the whole damn place on fire. 

Even if you did manage to kill these two, it wouldn’t matter, the police would come, they’d see the bodies. Bo and Vincent would be locked up and you…

Well, you didn’t really know what would happen to you. 

You could always plead insanity, show the jury the scars from your bonds and they’d think you were just a victim forced to do the unimaginable. 

You considered it for a moment, letting him get away with this, thought about the freedom that might await you. There was an empty feeling associated with that image, you’d miss Bo and Vince, miss the fucked up life you were living here. 

There weren’t any worries here, just make sure the victims didn’t make it past the woods and you were fine. No taxes, or wondering how you’d afford to keep living in your overpriced apartment, no fucked politics. You were free to be whoever you wanted, do whatever you wanted. 

You grabbed a lead pipe off the stairs and threw it at the wall. It provided enough of a distraction for him to drop the sheets, not yet making it to the fire, and for Vince to grab him. You watched long enough to see the knife go through his throat and then ran back up the stairs towards Bo. 

You heard screaming before you made it through the door, Carly shouting something at him. What worried you was that you didn’t hear him respond. You turned the corner, feet sticking to the wax as you gripped onto the doorway for balance. 

She was standing over him, baseball bat in her hands poised to bring it back down over his face. You could already see blood leaking down his face from where she’d hit him before. Without thinking you charged at her, wrapping your arms around her middle and taking her down to the floor. 

She let out a surprised yelp but you didn’t let her get much else out before you were wailing on her. You don’t know what happened after you grabbed her. You only remember punching her the first time, remember your knuckles splitting and your blood mingling with hers as she wrestled with you. 

All you could see was Bo laying on the floor, not moving, as this bitch stood over him with a bat. You were blinded by rage, a hot fury burning in your gut and keeping you moving as you pounded your fists into her. You felt satisfied by the sound of her bones crunching under you. 

She screamed at you, words you couldn’t hear as your blood rushed through your ears, and threw her hand up into your chin. You groaned, jaw whipping to the side. She pounced on you, digging her fingers into your throat until you couldn’t breathe and flipping you both over. 

You dragged your nails down her face, the skin digging under your nails like warm wax. You dragged your palms down until you could feel her throat, the movement it made as she took in a deep breath. You felt it bob up and down under your touch and you squeezed. She let out a strangled yelp and you could feel yourself slipping. You were becoming lost in a place of animalistic panic. 

You were almost dead, the man you loved was most likely lying dead next to you as you fought for your own life. Your vision was cloudy until it went completely black and then you felt arms wrapping around your chest and pulling you back. You kicked and screamed, still in fighting for your life until you recognized the voice in your ear. 

“Alright, it’s alright, it’s over.” You slumped back at the sound of Bo’s whispers. You ignored the feeling of his blood leaking into your shirt as he sat down with you, pulling you into his chest and squeezing until it hurt. 

You didn’t mind the pain, though, embracing it because it meant you were both alive. Both of you were okay. You reached back, wrapping your arms around his neck and melting into him. Carly lay dead a few feet in front of you, her face mangled and you looked down to see her blood soaking into your clothes. 

You had your own wounds from where she’d fought back, bleeding lacerations that you’d fix later. For now you sat with Bo, watching as Vincent stomped towards you both. In a minute you’d get up, help them clean up the house and the bodies. Then you’d all go home, you’d make dinner, pass out on the couch and wake up in one of their beds. Probably Bo, if his panicked grip was anything to go by. 

Life would go on as it always had, except you’d never have to see that chair again. You’d never be looking up through a grate as blood pooled on the garage floor. You’d go with Bo when he went to the city for supplies, you’d be able to pick out clothes that weren’t plucked from the hands of the dead. 

It wasn’t right. 

You weren’t a good person. 

You didn’t deserve salvation or heaven after all of this. 

But you’d found it and you were perfectly happy. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the movie House of Wax (2005), but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

How About a Nuke?

Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII

Series Masterlist

Cooper Howard x fem!reader, The ghoul x fem!reader A/N: @weakling-grace did some fanart for the series that I absolutely adore! And I want you all to look at it. It’s on her blog, or reposted on mine under the tag How about a nuke? Summary: The wound’s infected. It shouldn’t be, but here you are anyway, barely holding on to life. You make it as far as you can and then it’s up to him to decide whether you get to live or die.

“Have I told you yet that you are the most gorgeous woman in this room?” You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on your face even if you tried. 

“Only about a dozen times.” His hand reaches for yours across the table and you take it eagerly, linking your fingers together and enjoying the way his hazel eyes linger on yours. You could get lost in them, as cliche as it sounds. You and about every other woman in the world fell in love when you first saw those smiling eyes on the silver screen. 

“I’ll just have to tell you a dozen more.”

God, you would swoon if you could. But, unfortunately, you are in the middle of a very nice restaurant and you’re sure they wouldn’t enjoy your fainting spell. It’s not like you could help it, he was so effortlessly charming, everything he said with that rasping accent of his sounded like music to you. 

Your smile slipped slightly when you caught two women staring at you both. They weren’t even trying to hide it, pointing and whispering behind their hands. You clenched your jaw, trying your best not to let the anger show on your face. But he caught it anyway. 

Cooper dropped your hand and tucked his back in his lap. He sighed and glanced over his shoulder, they caught his eye and gasped, stopping their cruel whispers. You opened your mouth to try and make him feel better but he interrupted you, “Hey-”

“I told you this was gonna happen sweetheart.” You hated how sad he sounded, how resigned he was to his new place in life. It was no secret that most of your fellow actors despised him now just because he did a few ad campaigns for Vault-Tec. But that didn’t mean the rest of the world did. There were still plenty of people who adored Cooper and asked for his autograph. 

Granted, those ladies clearly weren’t fans, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care if you got spotted together in public and rumors started up again. You didn’t care what that meant about future roles. “I want to be with you, Coop, but I can’t keep having this same conversation over and over again.” You sighed and finally drew your hand back to yourself, he tracked the movement like a hawk. 

“If this is too much,” you forced yourself to swallow past the lump in your throat and put on a stilted smile. “If being with me in the public eye is too much then maybe we should-”

“Enough,” he reached back over and forced his hand into yours. “I’m sorry, I’m just worried about you.” He stopped you before you could interrupt him, giving you a knowing smile. “I know that you don’t care what being around me does to your career, but I do. There’s no reason for the both of us to be washed up celebrities.”

“Hey, you’re not washed up, plenty of people still want to see you on the silver screen.”

He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. He squeezed your hand once before letting go and picking up his fork, “Let’s just enjoy our meal, sweetheart.”

“Pick up the pace! I’m not gonna wait for you forever, sweetheart.”

You glared at him and leaned on a tree for support. You’re not sure what’s going on. You feel hot under your skin but also like you’re freezing, you’d thrown up twice during night watch and you’re about five seconds away from keeling over. 

Your sweaty palm slips against the bark and you go sliding over. You hear his boots stomping through the grass before they stop in front of you. Rough hands steady your shoulders and shove you upright again. His eyes rove across your face, the muscles above his eyes turning down in concern. 

“Shit, you look like,” he trailed off, “well, to be perfectly honest you look like shit.”

You laughed but it came out strangled and he flinched back in disgust when you started coughing. “Good to know you’re still a gentleman, Cooper.” 

He sighed and led you over to a rotted log. You threw yourself down on it, wincing as it jarred your sensitive stomach. The gash was aching a lot more than it should. 

When you’d been shot, you could barely even feel it by this point. Now the wound was burning, itching so bad you just wanted to rip the stitches out with your bare hands. Your head rolls back and you clench your eyes shut as another wave of nausea goes through you. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat, rattling like a hummingbird in a cage. 

He kneels in front of you and reaches for your shirt. You lean back on your hands to give him better access. “Stimpak should have worked by now,” he mutters. He pulls your shirt higher up on your abdomen and hisses through his teeth. 

“What is it?” Your tongue is glued to the roof of your mouth and the words come out garbled. 

“Shit!” He yanks your shirt down and reaches for your bag, digging through it until he finds another one of the Stimpaks you’d taken. 

You’d be more panicked if your head wasn’t floating right now. “What is it?” He doesn’t answer you, he hovers the injector over his mouth and lets the medicine shoot in. You wince when he immediately turns to spit it into the grass. 

He wipes the back of his mouth and chuckles. “Should’ve fucking known,” he mutters. He goes through the rest of the supplies you’d grabbed and starts chucking them further into the forest. 

You’re getting pissed off now. Pissed off and worried, you just needed him to talk to you, tell you what’s going on. “Cooper!” You snap, hand clutched over the burning wound on your stomach. He sighs and looks up at you. “Tell me what’s happening.”

“Fakes,” he says, mouth set in a firm line and eyes hard against your worried gaze. “See, darlin’, some people like the men we met last night hand out fake supplies.” If you weren’t so worried you’d be mad about how condescending he sounds. 

“They take empty injectors and fill ‘em with chems to keep people sick and coming back to them. It’s a steady income,” he says, like it’s a respectable career. “Your wound is infected, probably only worsened by whatever chem they put in the Stimpak I stuck you with.”

Your eyes are wide with horror. You can’t decide what’s worse, that you’ve essentially been poisoned and are probably experiencing sepsis right now. Or that people were capable of being so cruel and profited off of it. He pulls your canteen out of your bag and unscrews the cap. He holds the water up to your nose, “Sniff.” You do and he waves his hand, prompting you to tell him what exactly you smelled. 

“Smells like metal,” you shrug, not sure what that means. 

“Infected and you’ve got rad poisoning.” At your confused glance he continues, “Water’s not purified either, sweetheart. Whatever you got is about to get a hundred times worse.” When he turns his back to put the water back in your bag you finally risk a glance down at your stomach. 

You wished you hadn’t because you’re immediately bending over to throw up what was left of your rations. The skin has swelled over the stitches, practically swallowing the black thread. The place the knife went in is red and puckered, pus forming at the corners. The sides of your stomach have an odd green tint that you’re trying not to think about too hard, most likely a side effect of whatever chem you’d been dosed with. 

He presses the canteen into your hand and you shake your head from where it is between your knees. “Can’t, radiation.”

He laughs, the sound unkind, “It’s a bit late for that, honey.” You snatch the water out of his hand and gulp down as much as you can stomach. It’s not much, the taste of the water is too metallic and bitter for you. “The place we’re going, they’ve got medicine. We get you there and I’m sure I can work something out with them.”

You know what that really means. He’ll get paid for his bounty and then he’ll get what he wants, whether they offer it freely or not. “If I get there,” you mutter, still holding back the rest of your breakfast. 

“Enough,” he snaps. His hand wraps around your elbow and he yanks you to your feet. “We need to get a move on, power through.” If you had the strength, you’d slap him again. 

“Here you go,” he placed a bowl down on the coffee table, steam still wisping over the edge. He sat down beside you on your couch and brushed some hair away from your face and you leaned into the warmth of his palm. You were freezing but he seemed to think you were burning up. 

“Did you make me soup?” Your voice is groggy with sleep. He helps you into a sitting position and hands you the bowl. 

“No,” he laughs a little and leans back against the cushions, arm spreading out behind you and pulling you into him. “But I warmed it up for you.”

“Cooper,” you whisper. 

“Get a move on!” He shouts from a couple yards ahead. “You either move your ass or I’ll leave you here, because I’m sure as shit not carrying you.”

Oh shit. 

Hallucinating is never a good sign. You would swear on everything above that you were just on your couch with Cooper. You could still feel the warmth of the bowl in your hands, the old plush fabric of your couch on your cheeks. 

You swallowed down bile and did your best to catch up to him. You blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the fog over your eyes, but it didn’t help much. It took you a minute to realize it was from the sweat dripping down your brow and burning against your retinas that was causing the problem. 

You glanced around, surprised to find yourself surrounded by sand. Weren’t you just in the forest? You lifted a shaking hand to try and get rid of the glare of the sun. He was walking closer to you now, keeping a keener eye on you. You trip over your own feet for the inth time and try to keep pushing yourself. 

“Any chance we could dim those?” You squint and point up to the lights hanging above the set and one of the PA’s runs off to fulfill your request. You shake your boots out, tired of all the sand that’s been getting in them. You understand you’re meant to be chasing an outlaw through the “Wild West” but this is getting ridiculous. 

You’ve done about a hundred retakes of this scene, you’re not sure when the director is going to admit defeat but you hope it’s soon. You don’t know why the studio is even bothering to do cowboy stuff anymore. Everyone knows since Coop was forced out of the industry no one’s wanted to see these types of movies. 

The actor you’re working with this time is a dick. He’s commanding and rude, he’s got no sense of boundaries either. Or a nose. 

What the fuck?

He stands over top of you and you finally realize that you’ve collapsed into the sand. You let your head fall back and rub your forehead. One second you’re on a set and the next you’re in the Wastelands at the end of the world. You’re struggling to remember which version of reality is real and which isn’t. 

“I mean it,” he threatens, “I ain’t carrying you.” Your hand flops uselessly to your side, muscles fatigued and the burning in your gut sucking the energy out of you. The only part of yourself you’re physically aware of is the stab, you can’t feel anything else. You can’t twitch your toes or wiggle your fingers, everything is off kilter. “Alright then,” he leans down and yanks your arm over his shoulder. 

Before you’re processing what’s happening the world is being tilted on its axis and you’re being hauled to your feet. You don’t remember much about traveling through the sands. Everything is one long blur of red and orange. When the air in front of you starts to get wavy your eyes lose focus and you black out.

She nearly made it. They’re only about an hour away from this compound he’s been trying to get her to. He sighs, looking down at her prone form in the sand. There’s sweat beading along her forehead, her lips are cracked and split and her face has an unusual tint to it that can’t mean anything healthy. 

He squats down next to her and debates how he wants to go about this. The wound on her stomach has only gotten worse since they started walking, it’s just looking angrier and angrier. With how infected it is, it’s possible that even a stimpak might not help her now. 

He could leave her here, get the bounty, and go on his merry way. He could shoot her, put her out of her misery and leave. Or he could throw her over his shoulder and walk the last hour to the compound, hoping that whatever they have there will help. No matter what choice he makes, it’s her life in his hands. 

His hand drifts forward, brushing the hair off her cheek and lingering on the soft skin there. He sighs before scooping her up and tossing her over his shoulder, she whines, her wound rubbing against his shoulder and probably causing her a heap of pain. It didn’t matter how much it hurt, though, as long as she was feeling something that was a good sign. 

“Nearly there, sweetheart,”; he muttered. He tuned into her shallow breathing, the long pauses before her next breath and let that be what keeps him going. She better not fucking die on him. He grunts, shifting her higher up on his shoulder and wrapping an arm around her legs. 

He could feel how hot she was through each layer of their clothing. This was more than just the sun, she seemed like she was about to combust. “Cooper,” she whimpers. He frowns, she’s been muttering to herself since they left the forest. Talking about things that weren’t possible. 

He’s seen it before, with infection or rad poisoning, the hallucinations start pretty early. Only problem is, he’s never met anyone who lasted as long as her. She should have been dead hours ago. He has no idea what’s keeping her going, but she better fucking hold onto it. 

You laughed, your dress swirling around your legs like a blooming red flower as he spun you through the room. His hand wrapped around your waist and he pulled you back into his chest. You smiled at him and he reached up to brush the hair out of your face. 

Sinatra’s smooth voice cracked and then began to stutter. You laughed again but Cooper just rolled his eyes and walked over to fix the record. You smoothed out your dress and sat down on his couch, reaching for his glass of whiskey on the table. 

You took a sip, hoping for some liquid courage, and regretted it. You’d momentarily forgotten your distaste for alcohol. You tried to fight the tickle in your throat but failed, you probably ruined your lipstick with how hard you started to cough. 

He walked over to you and chuckled, taking his glass from your hands and stealing a swig. “Can’t handle your liquor, honey?”

“I can,” you wiped your mouth and gave him a playful glare. “That just tastes absolutely disgusting.” He smiled and took a seat beside you, arm draped behind you. He crossed a leg over his knee and titled himself to face you. You found yourself taking a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself for the question you were going to ask.

“Everything alright?”

You glanced down at your dress and fiddled with the hem of it. “I know the divorce was finalized a few days ago,” Cooper looked away from you, his face hardening, and reached forward to place his glass back on the table. Your heart leapt into your throat at the way he slammed it down. Maybe this was a mistake. 

You know when Barb came over to pick up Janey yesterday they’d gotten into a fight. You didn’t know what exactly it was they fought about, you’re pretty sure it had to do with you. But it didn’t truly matter. She always found a way to rile him up. You’d been hoping that coming by tonight might make him feel a little better,  but he still seemed to have a residual tenseness to him. 

Bringing the divorce up after one of their fights isn’t smart. But you need to talk about this and he’s been avoiding the conversation for a while now. 

He ran a hand down his face and sighed, “What about it?” 

“I was just wondering what that means for us?”

He scoffed and glanced over at you. The look he’s giving you, you’re certain the fight was about you now. He’s never looked this angry with you, “For us?” You nodded and he shook his head, standing up and heading towards his room. “It doesn’t mean anything.” Your heart stuttered in your chest, eyes burning as he slammed the door to his room without another word. You let your head fall into your hands and took a few deep breaths. You knew you shouldn’t have asked that. 

“That was a mistake,” you muttered. 

“The hell are you telling yourself back there?” Your eyes peeled open and you frowned, you seemed to be looking at something that looked a hell of a lot like Cooper’s backside. You tilted your head to the side to find the world upside down and something stabbing repeatedly in your stomach. 

You clawed your way up Cooper’s jacket, shakily holding yourself up so you could stare down at him. “Settle,” he warns, like you’re a damn horse. 

“Put me down,” you mutter, weakly kicking out your feet and trying to get off of him. He just shakes his head and shoves you back down. You let him, not having much fight left in you anyway. 

“Just,” he pauses, “keep dreamin’,” the words seem to pain him and you wonder why. You don’t linger on it long, letting your head hang against his back before the world is going dark again. 

She keeps muttering Cooper in her sleep. He knows what she’s thinking about. Their old times together, when everything was just dandy and the world was as sweet as peaches. Well, he wasn’t some saint back then neither. He had his own problems, vices, same as any man. 

Only difference between then and now is that he doesn’t have to hide who he is. Doesn’t have to worry about the public’s opinion or how his job will be affected if he speaks his mind. Cooper’s no better than the Ghoul. 

He sighs, barely even believing himself. She whimpers in her sleep, the noise strangled and pained. He squeezes her leg, barely even noticing the action, in an attempt to bring some minute form of comfort. She never should have dived in front of that blade, it was stupid of her. 

Course, she couldn’t have known that he would have healed, it’s not like he ever told her that. But she shouldn’t have risked it anyway, he wasn’t worth her dying for.

He can see a large building about a mile ahead as he crests the ridge of the dune he’s walking on. The compound, nearly there. “Hold on,” he’s not sure who he’s talking to but it doesn’t matter. She’s made it this far, she’ll make it a few more minutes.

“Stop right there!” Only one armed guard comes out from behind the gate of the compound. He scoffs, fucking amateurs. He drops her to the ground at his feet with as much care as he can, which isn’t a lot. Slowly, he raises his hands as the guard approaches, the tip of his rifle pressing into the hardened skin of his chest. “State your business.”

Well, someone liked making themself feel important, he was gonna have a field day beating this boy black and blue. For now, he simply smiled at him, unbothered by the gun. “I’ve got a bounty to deliver.”

“Alright, hand it over.” He reached into his pockets and the boy’s trigger finger twitched dangerously. He pulled out the only thing they’d wanted from the body, dog tags, and held them out for the boy to take. He darted forward, trying to snatch them but he yanked them out of the guard’s grip. 

He lunged, wrapping a hand around the barrel of the rifle and yanking it out of the kid’s hands. He tucked the tags back in his pocket and pointed the barrel into the boy’s chest. His face blanched and he held up his shaky hands. “Not so big now, are you?” He kept the gun trained on him and leaned down to scoop her back up. 

She was just cognizant enough to wrap an arm around his shoulder, keeping herself steady. “My friend here needs help. So help me boy, I swear if you fight me, I’ll slaughter everyone in that fucking place and just take what I want.”

He poked the gun into the boy’s chest and he jumped away from him with a frightened little whimper. With a grin, he bullied him into unlocking the gate and leading the both of them inside. 

“Please-”

“Shut the fuck up and get me inside.” It didn’t take long, the kid seemed to be the only guard they had patrolling right now. He led the pair inside the compound and then shoved them inside a room. 

“Here, you can clean her up here.” Before he could say anything the boy was running down the hall and out of sight. He figured they didn’t have long before the rest of the compound was alerted to what was going on. 

He knew enough about the place to know they had a water purifier set up in the back and some odd little ditty they’d created to use water to generate power. Having a radiated ocean behind them was a lot more convenient than Cooper ever would have thought. 

“Alright,” he propped her up on the bed and threw the boy’s rifle to the side. “Wake up, darling,” her eyelashes fluttered but she didn’t move. He used his teeth to pull off one of his gloves and pressed a hand to her clammy head. Still burning up. He cracked his hand across her cheek, chuckling at the way her eyes flew open. 

“Come on,” he hoisted her up and shoved her towards the bathroom in the room. There were holes in the wall, the faucet was really a metal can with holes poked in it, but it was running water. Who was he to complain? He propped her up against the sink and cranked the odd lever in the wall. There was a loud rattling sound before water came pouring out of the rusted can. “Clean yourself up,” he muttered, closing the door behind him.

Barely a minute later he heard a loud crash and the sound of porcelain cracking. He ran back into the bathroom and found her half collapsed against the shower wall. What was left of the decrepit sink was broken on the ground, only the faucet sticking out of the wall. He sighed and looked over at her. 

“I fell,” she muttered, a million little cuts bleeding on her arms. 

He sighed and tugged his hat and gloves off, tossing them onto the bed outside. He came back in, pulling her away from the shower and straightening her up. She clung onto him, broken nails digging dully into his scarred arms. “Come on, sweetheart,” he tugged her shirt up, her arms slipping limply out of it. 

Her wound was practically festered by now, turning a color that he knew meant she didn’t have much time to waste. He undid the button of her pants and knelt down, hands dragging down her legs and pulling her pants with them. She stepped out, hands braced on his shoulders and tripped slightly. He grabbed her thighs, steadying her and stood back up. He wrapped an arm around her waist, stopping her from falling and leading her into the shower. 

She sighed as the tepid water hit her back and he grimaced at the brown water pouring off of her. Maybe he should have let her clean up in that lake. He didn’t do much to help her as she cleaned herself up, mainly just stood there and let her hold onto him so she didn’t hurt herself further. 

He cupped the back of her neck and helped her tilt her head back to clean out the rest of her hair. It was odd, being this close to her. Less because of how stark naked she was, and more because of just how vulnerable she was being. Like a deer rolling over and presenting its neck to a wolf. He could do anything to her, and she just let him hold her like this. 

She leaned forward, clearly tired after moving around so much. Her head fell into his chest and she wrapped her arms around him tighter. She sighed, “I love you, Cooper.”

He flinched, knowing this was just a part of her delirium. Having running water for once was probably just confusing her more, making her think she was right back home. He leaned forward, lips pressed against her forehead and brushing some hair back. “No you don’t, darling.”

There was a knock on the door and he was quick to draw his gun. The door opened and a middle aged woman flanked by two guards stood smiling at him. She took in the gun in his hand but seemed unbothered by it or the threat he posed. “I hear you two need some help.”

“Mhm,” he glanced at the guards behind her but they didn’t seem particularly interested in reaching for their weapons. The woman took her in from where she lay on the bed, panting and sounding like she was struggling to get her breaths in. “I have a bounty to turn in, figured part of my payment could be you giving us a Stimpak. Then, we’ll be out of your hair.”

She laughed and took a step further into the room. He stood up now, gun pointed towards her slightly. She ignored him and took a peek at the festering wound. “She’ll need a lot more than a Stimpak. We can clean her up, don’t worry.” He didn’t get a chance to argue before the guards were coming in. He stepped out of the way as they grabbed you by the arms and legs, hauling you out of the room. 

He made to follow them but the woman placed a hand on his chest. “Sylvie, I run the compound. The bounty?”

He sighed and fished the dog tags out of his pocket, passing them to her. He glanced out the door, trying to track the path they took you down. “She’ll be fine, trust me.”

He laughed and glanced over at her, “No offense, ma’am,” he says the title with a lack of respect that makes her brows furrow in irritation, “but if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s not to trust anyone. No matter how pretty their promises are.”

She gave him a long look before smiling and motioning back towards the hall. “Follow me and we’ll go find her.”

They had a decent set up here. Not as nice as the vaults, clearly, but pretty good for surface dwellers. A decent supply of meds and rations, running water. Everything in the building might be run down or covered in mildew, with cracks in the wall, but it was better than the hovels he’d camped out in. 

They’ve got her set up on cot, a bag of Radaway hooked up to her arm and her hair braided away from her face. They had to cut out the stitches he’d sewed and open the wound back up to flush it out. She’d been patched back up and while the skin still looked irritated it seemed to be doing a lot better than before. 

He’d been keeping a close eye on her breathing and she’d finally stopped wheezing on every inhale. He figured another hour here and they could get the fuck out. These people were starting to bother him. Every half hour or so they would come in to check on her, the women would spray some water on her face and mutter something before running back out. 

He seemed to scare them, enjoying the way they would avoid meeting his eyes. But it wasn’t enough to keep them away from her. Their insistence should’ve had alarm bells going off in his head, but he was already preoccupied worrying about her. He didn’t even notice when Slyvie came to stand beside him. 

“She’ll be alright,” she tried to place a hand on his shoulder but the look he shot her had her stopping short. She cleared her throat uncomfortably and tucked her hands back behind her back. He gave her another long look before going back to staring at the girl on the bed. 

“We have a place for her here, if you’re interested.”

He scoffed, “Room for us, huh?” He let himself picture it for a moment. He wouldn’t fucking stay, of course, he couldn’t. There’s no way, after two hundred years of wandering, that he could be locked down to one decaying old building. Showers or no. But he could always come by to visit her, stay a few nights and then leave again. 

That’s assuming she’d even want him to visit. Didn’t matter, he’d come anyway. But, he couldn’t do that anymore. Couldn’t live that life even if it would be temporary. It just wasn’t in him. He stayed stagnant for too long and two hundred years of bloodshed and loss would drive him insane. 

Sylvie shook her head and frowned. “I’m sorry, I should have been more clear. We have room for her, you have to understand, without a steady supply of Radaway we can’t risk having a ghoul here.” She moved towards her and brushed some hair out of her face, “Think about it.” She walked out and he stared blankly at the cot. 

She shifted on the bed, face pained and mumbling something under her breath. Finally, her eyes fluttered open and she frowned. “Coop? What’s,” she trailed off, struggling to sit up and glancing around the room they were in. “What’s going on?”

“Relax, we’re at the compound.”

She rubbed her forehead and glared at him, “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

He swatted her leg and she recoiled, “No, smartass. Just relax, we’ll be out of here soon.” She nodded and leaned back against the pillows they’d given her. It was odd, finally seeing her clean again. He could see clearly just how tired she looked. It was in her eyes, mainly, a weariness towards the world that left her exhausted. 

He’s surprised she’s even made it this far without giving up. She’d been dealt some shit luck, but he supposed it was better she be exposed to how cruel the world was as quickly as possible. She groaned and her head flopped forward. 

“What’s wrong with you now?” 

“God,” she muttered, turning her face away from him and shaking her head. He huffed and sat up straight, glaring at the side of her face. 

“Talk,” he demanded, not in the mood for games. 

“I meant it,” she sounded pained, like the words had to be forced out. “I mean, I hate that I meant it, but I did.”

He rolled his eyes, “Meant what? You’re gonna have to be a little clearer than that, sweetheart.”

“What I said in the shower. I meant it. I haven’t stopped loving you, despite how much I want to. I don’t want to want you anymore, I don’t want that connection to the past to constantly be shoved down my throat.” She sighed and tugged at the braid they’d given her. “You’re cruel and mean and, fuck’s sake, you’ve shot me twice. But you’re also the only thing I’ve got left, and despite how much I want to, because trust me I do, I can’t let you go.”

He sighed and turned away from her. She was still tired, still a bit woozy from the fever. He could see the sweat on her forehead again and knew that whatever this was, was just drug induced. He couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t handle her wanting him like this again. 

Being around her already made him vulnerable enough. Whatever twisted connection he held to her now, would be nothing compared to letting her love him again. Two hundred years on his own and she thought she could just come barreling back into his life and everything would be lovely again?

No, that’s not how this world worked. Not anymore. 

He stood up and threw his bag over his shoulder. “Get back to sleep, we’ll leave soon.”

She sighed and sank back against the pillows, shivering as she did so. “You’ll be here?”

“Of course I will, sweetheart.” She nodded, eyes already drifting shut, and turned away from him. He let himself admire her, taking in her relaxed features and soft expression. She reminded him so much of before. Before the world went to shit and before he turned into what he is now. 

He could feel parts of him, the ones he’d buried a long time ago, come up around her. Twisted as they were, how he felt about her before still lingered somewhere within him. But he couldn’t afford the risk that they presented if he did let her back in. He wasn’t even sure she could fully handle him if he did. 

She’d nearly died about five times, most of them because of him, and she’d been up here for such a short time. She’d be better off without him. He walked towards the door, the spurs of his boots clicking against the tile of the floor. He found Sylvie lurking a few halls down and whistled, getting her attention. 

Sylvie turned to him with an expectant smile. “You got room?”

She nodded with an eager smile, “We do. And you’d be compensated, of course.” Before he could question what exactly she was paying him for she snapped her fingers and some guards approached. They handed him a bag that he quickly rifled through. Not only was there enough Radaway to last him at least a month, there was purified water and rations that would keep him going until the next bounty. 

She’ll be better off here. 

He tucked the bag away and smiled at Sylvie, “Pleasure doing business with you, ma’am.”

She gave him a lecherous grin, “You as well,” she nodded and the guards escorted him to the gate. He didn’t let himself look back, knowing he’d just want to go get her. At least now he didn’t have to constantly worry about saving her ass. 

He was better off on his own. Always had been, always would be. 

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.

Cruel World

Previous part / Next part

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

How About a Nuke?

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI

Cooper Howard x fem!reader, the ghoul x fem!reader A/N: I always appreciate your thoughts and comments on these chapters. I don’t reply to every comment, mainly because I’m cackling like an evil witch over your suffering Summary: Time split in two. Both sides of the same coin and neither of you can get your shit together.

“It’s been a pleasure working with you,” you held your hand out and shook Tom’s, though your experience with him was anything but wonderful. If you didn’t need the exposure you’d never do another movie for him again. Cooper came up behind you and wrapped an arm around your waist. 

“I’m sorry, I’m just going to steal her for a minute.”

Tom waved his hand and went to track down another drink. You sank into Cooper’s arms, deflating with relief. “Thank you,” you whispered. 

He chuckled and the sound had shivers going down your spine. “No problem at all, sweetheart.” He swept you out of the room and into one of the hallways of whoever’s house you were at. You’d stopped paying attention after about the fifth party you’d been dragged to. Working with Cooper had been a dream come true, but you hadn’t realized just how much socializing you’d have to do. 

He let go of you and you immediately missed the feeling of his arm around you. He provided you with a sense of protection you’d been severely lacking since you started acting. He was a shield against the greed of Hollywood. 

You let yourself lean against the wall and he watched you with a keen eye, smiling slightly at how tired you looked. “Doing alright?”

You nodded before looking up and giving him a small smile. “Just need a little break, that’s all.”

He rested against the wall opposite to you, tugging out a cigarette and offering you one. You shook your head and tried rolling out your shoulders to get rid of some of the lingering tension. He had a knowing look on his face when he spoke. 

“It was like that for me too when I first started out. No one really prepares you for how much ass you have to kiss in this industry.”

You let out a short laugh and rolled your eyes, “My lips are chapped at this point. I’ve never had to stroke so many men’s egos in one night.” 

“I hope you don’t feel like you have to do the same with me.”

You glanced up at Cooper and shook your head, “No, you’re not like that.”

Fuck him, you thought. You didn’t have to do what he said. You got up, prepared to duck your way through the fighting again, when you heard the unmistakable high pitched ringing of a bullet flying by and then you were launching forward. 

“Fuck!” Your hand flew to your arm, trying to stop the blood from oozing out of the graze on your arm. He hadn’t left a hole but a good chunk of your bicep was splattered on the ground.  

“Now, what did I tell you sweetheart?” You turned around to stare shocked at Cooper. He pointed to the ground with his gun. “Go ahead and sit your ass back down.” The warmth of the blood seeped out from between your fingers and your other hand clenched in rage. 

“Why don’t you just go fuck yourself, Cooper?” He might not have had eyebrows anymore but you could still make out the way his muscles shifted in anger. Despite it all, you could still read him like a book. 

You weren’t going to let him think he could just continue to treat you however the hell he wanted. “What did you just say to me?” His voice was low, a dangerous tone that days before you might not have messed with. But you didn’t care. He’d shot you twice at this point, you couldn’t bring yourself to give a shit about catering to his feelings right now. 

Your hand reached towards the gun tucked in your pants. His eyes tracked the movement but he made no move to stop you. Slowly, you wrapped your fingers around the handle and you pointed the barrel right at him. He chuckled but there was no humor in the sound. “You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.”

“If you’re gonna shoot me, go ahead and do it. But our partnership ends here.” You hoped he couldn’t see the way your hand trembled or how the gun shook. You weren’t sure, when the moment came, if you could actually kill him. Despite it all, you still saw the man you used to love in that face. 

And despite what he’d told you about that man, you couldn’t let yourself believe him. You couldn’t afford to lose the last good memory you had. You’re caught off guard when he clicks the hammer again and tucks the gun back in his holster. 

Your eyes are wide with surprise but he just raises his hands in surrender. “Go ahead and leave, I’m never one to linger where I’m unwanted.” Well, that’s a fucking lie. Still, you decide to take him at his word and slowly you tuck the gun away again. 

“Goodbye, Cooper.”

He smirks, “Goodbye, darling.”

You should have known better. You’ve barely turned around before a rope is looped around your waist and dragging you to the ground and back towards him. 

“Thanks for having me over, Barb. Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?” She shook her head and placed your cup of coffee on the table. 

“What kind of hostess would I be if I asked that of you?” She gave you a kind smile and left to dart back into the kitchen. You fiddled with the table mat in front of you, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. Cooper came back in from the yard and waved you forward. 

“Come on, she’ll be a while longer, it’s nicer out here.” You left your cup on the table and followed him outside. He led you to the pool, motioning for you to take a seat on one of the chairs. You appreciated how hospitable he and his wife were but you were feeling incredibly out of place in his home. 

Cooper laughed and gave you a funny look. “You don’t look very comfortable over there.”

You shrugged and gave him a sheepish smile. “Am I that obvious?”

He shook his head, “Not to anyone else, maybe.”

“But you know me a bit better than anyone else,” you finished the thought for him. He was right. He knew you better than anyone in Hollywood did. And you enjoyed it and loved how close you had gotten over the course of filming the movie. But you also hated it a little bit.

Cooper Howard had always been an on-screen crush for you and now face-to-face with him, the infatuation has gotten even worse. It made you feel awful every time Barb invited you over to their house. You were a guest in her home and halfway to being in love with her husband.

But who could blame you? He was kind and sophisticated, and he wasn’t one of those Hollywood assholes who looked down on anybody who was deemed as below him. 

And maybe you were mistaking his generosity for something else, but you swear he had a certain look in his eyes every time he stared at you. 

You almost hoped that he didn’t. You wanted this to be different from the other men you worked with. They always claimed they were in love with you. It didn’t take long for them to realize that it was only lust and not love. 

You wanted him to be different. 

Maybe you’re a fool for thinking that there was still Prince Charming’s around. But you would hold onto that hope for as long as you could.

“I fucking hate you. You know that?”

“Why don’t you shut your mouth, huh, sweetheart?” You hissed in pain as Cooper squeezed the rag around your arm even tighter. He grinned at the noise and tied the makeshift bandage off. 

“You should have just left me there.” He stood up and yanked your hands towards him. He used some of the rope to tie you up, leading you around on a leash like you were a damn dog. 

“Couldn’t do that.”

“Yeah, why the hell not?” He finally looked at you, an angry set to his eyes. But he didn’t respond, he just yanked on the rope and dragged you forward. You complied, only because of the way your shoulder pulsed with pain.

You wished he had left you in Filly instead of dragging you along behind him. He had already dealt with Ma June and gotten whatever the hell it is that he puffs on. You had no idea why he even needed you anymore. 

You weren’t of any use to him and it’s not like there’s some big bounty on your head. Why keep you around? Why not give you both what you want and just let you go?

Maybe it was cruelty. Maybe the only thing he got out of it, was knowing that he was torturing you. That seemed like enough for a man like him. 

You stared at the back of his head and felt hate burning in your gut. He was right. Cooper was gone, you couldn’t even see him anymore. You didn’t want to see him anymore. 

“We’ll get along just fine if you keep that attitude of yours in check.” If you could still pull out your gun, you’d take your chance. You’d shoot him dead if you could. Instead all you could do was longingly stare at it from where it was tucked in your bag. 

He returned from where he’d been keeping watch, confident no one was going to bother them tonight. She sat with her back to him, the rope tied around the post of the old warehouse they were camped out in. She’d refused to talk to him since they’d made camp for the night and it was slowly driving him insane. 

He’d made a decision when he went back for her. She belonged to him now, she wasn’t leaving anytime soon. He didn’t understand why she had to make all of this so hard.

He knelt down in front of her and she averted her eyes to a corner of the room behind him. He reached for the bandage on her arm and she jerked back, she looked at him at least, even if it was to glare. He’d take progress where he could get it. 

“You want to let it fester and rot then be my guest.” She stared at him a moment longer before sighing and offering him her arm. He unwrapped the bandage and threw it to the ground. It was sopping wet with her blood and she winced at the noise it made when it landed, some blood sprayed off and hit her face. He’d meant to just graze her, done a bit more damage than expected. 

There was a large divot where muscle should be, he could nearly see bone poking through on the deepest bit. It was a wonder she hadn’t been complaining the whole time they were walking. He’s not sure how she’s bearing the pain so well. 

He needs to cauterize it before she loses more blood. He takes a glance at her face, the way her jaw is set, the cold look in her eyes everytime he so much as breathes. There’s no way this will go over very well, but there’s no point in investing any time in her if she just dies of rot tomorrow. 

He starts a fire in the area with the least visibility, he’s trying not to tempt any stragglers near them. It’s not like he can rely on her to watch over him in the night, he’s sure if he handed her a knife she’d slit his throat right now. 

He pulls his machete out and lets the dull edge heat up before bringing it back over to her. Her eyes widen but she still doesn’t say anything. And when he presses the edge into her wound and her skin sizzles and roasts she still doesn’t utter a word. 

But she bites down on something in her mouth so hard blood leaks out of the corner of her lips. She’s being real tempting right now, all bloodied and cooked, smelling like a nice meal. Maybe he should chop her up into little pieces, she’ll keep him fed for a while, that’s for sure. 

She starts panting, breathing heavy through her nose and he knows he’s kept this on here longer than necessary. Still, he can’t help himself. He presses the blade a little deeper, lets it hit some uninjured skin just to see if she says anything. She only clenches her eyes shut and turns away from him. 

Disappointed by the lack of response he backs off. “You’re welcome,” he grouses. 

“Fuck. Off.” She spits the words out at him, droplets of blood flying off her lips as she does. 

The way her eyes flare with anger shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. But she has always been particularly pretty when she’s pissed off at him. He licks the blood off his lips and grins. “So she can talk.”

Her eyes well up with tears and he sits back, enjoying the sight of her breaking down. She’s caused enough trouble for him the past few days, she’s just getting a taste of her own medicine. 

Cooper swoops in, taking her hand and leading her around the dance floor. She grins up at him, eyes shining under the lights of the ballroom, once again he’s struck by just how gorgeous she is. “I should warn you,” she leans in like she’s sharing a horrible secret and whispers, “I’m a terrible dancer.”

He takes her in, the pretty dress she’s wearing and how well it suits her and shakes his head. “Just let me lead.”

Her laugh makes his heart race and all he wants to do is run away with her. Get her out of here and just have her all for his own, if only for a few hours. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, mister.” The music picks up and he takes her through the steps he had to practice a dozen different times for a multitude of occasions, one including his wedding. 

“Do you know how pretty you look tonight?”

She gives him a coy smile and shrugs. “I’ve been told by a few men, but I think I’d actually believe it if you said it.”

He leans down and kisses her. He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, but he can’t help himself. She’s as soft as he’d imagined, shy and confused, but she doesn’t stop him. He feels her lean in and he slowly parts from her. “You look beautiful.” She pulls away from him, eyes wide and lips parted from shock. He sees the shine on her lips, the slight way they’ve swelled up and he wants to lean in again but he’s interrupted. 

“Cut!” Sam walks over to them, a big grin on his face and claps Cooper on the shoulder. “I love the improv, Coop, we’re gonna do this again. Keep the kiss.” Cooper nods and waits for him to walk off before he turns back to her. 

He offers her an apologetic smile. “I hope that didn’t bother you, darling. It felt right for the scene.” Not a complete lie, it did work better than whatever the writers had chosen for the next few minutes of dialogue. But truly, he was just fulfilling his own selfish desires. 

She seems to blink herself out of some sort of daze. She shakes her head and steps away from him, he lets his hands fall down to his sides, already missing the feeling of her. “No, not at all. Good call, Coop.” His name on her lips sounds like music to his ears, especially that breathy way she says it when she’s nervous. 

He sighs and rubs a hand down his face. What the fuck is he doing? He shouldn’t have kissed her. He definitely shouldn’t have pushed to get her this role, either, knowing she was going to be his love interest. He knows she’s been trying to step back from these types of things. But he also knows that she’d take any role he offered her. 

He shouldn’t be taking advantage of that, but he can’t help himself. He finds that he wants to be near her, always. He wants to listen to her ramble and have her there to read scripts with, he just wants her around him constantly. It used to be purely platonic. The respectful relationship between a mentor and mentee. But she’d figured out how to navigate this world on her own. 

Soon, he worried she wouldn’t need him anymore. Or want him around.  He takes every opportunity he can to have her on set and it’s only recently that he’s noticed the physical attraction. He takes his hand off his face and glances to the side. 

Barb is there, but she hadn’t been watching. She’s busy talking to one of the PA’s. He takes in a deep breath and gets back on his mark. If he messes up a few times, just so he can kiss her again, who could blame him?

“Cat got your tongue?”

You have a dozen different remarks, but you’re too drained to go through this routine again. You can tell he’s getting angrier the longer you ignore him. Good! He’s shot you twice, you didn’t exactly owe him the satisfaction of your conversation. 

Your arm is throbbing, a dull pain that you can feel deep in your bones. You keep shifting, trying to ease some of the pressure off of it, but with the bindings around your wrist it’s nearly impossible. You want to cry, scream, fight. You want to do anything, but he’s bound you and you feel like a beaten down dog. 

Your tails’ been cropped and you’re just going through endless rounds of fighting until you’re useless enough to be put down. You don’t see a way out of this. And even if there was, even if you did escape, you’d still have the rest of the Wastelands to get through. 

He stands up and moves next to you. He throws himself down with a thud and digs around in your bag. “No rations left, huh?” You close your eyes and let your head thunk back against the pole you’ve been leashed to. He grabs his own bag and pulls out his foul smelling jerky. 

He dangles it under your nose, slapping your cheeks with it a few times until you open up your eyes. He grins, yellowed teeth making you nauseous, “There are those pretty eyes. Come on, open up sweetheart, ass jerky ain’t gonna eat itself.”

Your nose scrunches up in disgust and you turn your head away. “Hey!” He snaps and you jump. “I’m being generous here, now, open your damn mouth.”

“Why’d you shoot me?” You spit it out, rushed and near incoherent. It’s a desperate attempt to distract him so you don’t have to eat what is confirmed human meat. That could have been you today, had you not woken up before that creepy old couple got to you. 

He takes a moment, contemplating his answer. “Thought you were the raider.”

“Why?”

He rolled his eyes and the jerky, thankfully, dropped back into his lap. “I heard someone in pain. You don’t have a great track record, sweetheart, I figured someone had gotten you again.”

Indignant anger bubbled up in your gut and you moved as far away from him as you possibly could. Though, it was only a few inches. “You didn’t think I could defend myself. It wasn’t even a consideration?” 

You knew how to shoot a gun, and you knew how to fight back. But shouldn’t there be a bit of grace considering a few days ago the entire world wasn’t fucking insane? You think you’ve handled yourself exceptionally well considering everything that’s been thrown at you. 

There’s no hesitation in his answer, “No.”

“Well,” you spit the words out like you want to wound him with them, “you were wrong.”

To your surprise he smiles. It seems genuine enough, appreciative even, but you can’t trust him anymore. You never should have trusted him to begin with apparently. “That I was.” You wished you could smack the smug look off his face. He was acting like he had anything to do with your fighting or surviving that fight. Despite what happened with the raiders, you were capable of protecting yourself.

That woman was already bleeding out and on the ground before he had interrupted. “What the fuck do you want from me, Cooper?” His hand twitched towards his gun and he glared at you. You rolled your eyes and sighed, “Oh grow the fuck up, I said your name, shoot me or get over it. I’m not gonna play this game with you anymore. I’m not gonna let you walk all over me and I’m not going to continue to cater to your temper.”

He wasn’t angry, though, he was grinning. Making a noise that bordered on a laugh. “Someone found their fight again, it seems.”

Your jaw clenched and you kicked at him. He grunted at the impact and you felt a little bit of satisfaction flare up, “Answer the question.”

He shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t particularly like you, but I can’t seem to let you go either.”

“Well,” you scoffed, “you sure know how to make a girl swoon, don’t you.” Your wrists itched within the confines of their bindings and you pictured strangling him with the very rope he had you tied up with. 

“You wanted the truth.”

“Did you enjoy yourself?” 

Cooper wrapped his arms around Barb’s waist, he leaned in to kiss her but she dodged away from him. He let out a heavy sigh, already dreading this conversation, and backed up. “What are you talking about?”

She whirled around on him and glared, “Do not pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.” He shook his head and walked over to the bar cart, pouring himself a glass of something that would hopefully calm him enough for another fight. They’d been fighting a lot lately. 

He knew what this one was going to be about. Her, but they’d been having issues long before this attraction started up. She just wanted something to use against him, to make him the bad guy. She just couldn’t ever handle hearing the truth about herself. 

But he wasn’t going to make it easy for her. He was sick of rolling over and just letting her have what she wanted for the sake of peace. “Give me something to work with here, Barb.”

She scoffed and shook her head muttering, “Unbelievable,” under her breath. “Shoving your tongue down her throat, that’s what I’m talking about!”

Cooper winced, “Lower your voice, Janey is-”

“Do not,” she held up a hand to silence him. “Do not bring our daughter into this. Answer the damn question.”

He let out a humorless laugh and held up his hands. “I don't know what you want. You’ve never had a problem with this before. It’s a part of my fucking job, Barb, what the hell do you want?”

She shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Just admit it, Coop, she’s different. We both know it, this isn’t some scripted kiss. You wanted it!” Of course he did. At least she actually liked him, appreciated him, made him feel something other than shame and frustration. She didn’t manipulate him at every opportunity like Barb did. 

“Lower your goddamn voice!” He snapped, heat rushing to his cheeks in anger. “I am married to you, you are my wife, not her. I love you, okay, Barb. I don’t know where this is coming from, or why you’re choosing now to bring this up. But I’ve had a long day and I don’t want us to go to bed angry.”

She shook her head again and paced the length of the living room. “Cooper, I can’t-”

The phone ringing interrupted her. She looked at it like she knew who was calling and waved her hand to dismiss him. “We will continue this,” he walked towards the phone and took it off the hook. “What?”

He regretted how short he sounded when he heard her on the other line. She sounded a little confused and like she was sorry for bugging him. “Coop? Sorry, is this a bad time?” He glanced over his shoulder at Barb but she wasn’t looking at him anymore. 

He let out a deep sigh and tried to reign in his temper, “No, sweetheart, what’s up?” 

“Oh, well a few of us figured we’d go out and get some drinks. I wanted to see if you wanted to join us, or if you could give me a ride?”

He let the phone droop to his cheek and glanced at Barb again. She was already making her way towards the bedroom. “Make your choice, Cooper,” she called over her shoulder. 

She piped up on the other end, “Coop?”

He glanced down at the phone again before he shook his head and brought it back up to his ear. “Yeah, I’ll be right over, honey. Let me just grab my jacket.”

“You remember that first movie we did together?” He leaned back against the wall, arm propped up on his knee and gazing out at the Wasteland. “Passed a poster for it in this old movie theater a week ago.” He glanced over at her and nudged her shoulder. “Must have been a sign, huh?”

Her voice was a hoarse croak that he nearly didn’t understand. “Did you ever love me?” The question came out of nowhere, catching him slightly off guard.

Anger flared through him. He turned to glare at her but she wouldn’t look at him. She had the audacity to ask something that fucking stupid and then she couldn’t even look at him?

“Hey,” she sighed and turned to face him. “‘Course I did. Why the hell would you say that?”

She snorted and shook her head. “Seriously?” He nodded and she sighed. “You told me you didn’t. All I was, was a hole to fill.”

He ran a hand down his face and shrugged. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you sweetheart.”

“How about the truth,” she gave him a sharp look and he laughed. She was real cute when she was trying to be threatening. 

“Alright. You want some advice? Everyone in the Wastelands lies. Can’t trust a thing anyone says.”

She nodded but he should know better than to think she would give up so easy. “So, I can’t believe you now then?” She must have thought she was real clever. He was getting a little sick of this back and forth. She needed to learn to just listen to him, she’d get a lot farther a lot faster that way. 

“Consider this the one exception.” 

“And here I thought you didn’t like to drink, sweetheart.” She let out a drunken giggle and slumped further against Cooper. He glanced at her and laughed. Her eyes were barely open and she kept pointing at something but refused to tell him what it was she was talking about. “Keys?”

She lifted her purse but it dropped to the ground before he could grab it from her. Cooper sighed and propped her against her door, he leaned down to grab the bag and dug around until he found the keys. He noticed the little key chain he got her dangling from them and smiled. 

A mini revolver, to commemorate their first movie together. It was cute that she had kept it, he hadn’t really expected her too. Then again, he’s kept every ridiculous gag gift she’s gotten him. “Alright, let’s get you to bed.” She threw an uncoordinated arm over his shoulder and let her feet drag while he tried to corral her into her apartment. 

“Work with me, honey, come on.” She finally lifted her feet enough to stumble into her bedroom. He closed the door and heard a loud thud. “Shit,” he ran into her room but she’d only tossed her shoes across the room. 

“I don’t drink,” she slurred, eyes red and cheeks puffy. 

He chuckled and nodded his head. He hoped to get her lucid enough just long enough to get her tucked into bed. He was tired and going to get drinks had been a mistake. He wasn’t in the mood to try and entertain a group of people with tales of his glamorous Hollywood experience. Honestly, he’d gone just to talk to her, but she’d been in more of a mood to party than he had expected. 

“Don’t trust anyone.” He grabbed the sleeves of her jacket, helping her out of it and trying not to laugh at how much she struggled with them. “Just you,” she hummed, giving him a smile even though her eyes were closed and she was a second away from passing out.

“That’s real sweet, why don’t you get in bed?” She nodded and threw herself down against the pillows. Cooper sighed and got up to get her trash can out of the bathroom, dropping it by the side of her bed in case she needed it. 

He glanced down at her, taking in the serene expression she held when she slept. It was so different to the usual way she kept herself guarded, she seemed so vulnerable in moments like these. He brushed the hair off her face and turned the light off. It made him feel good to know that she felt safe with him. 

He could never be with her the way that he wanted to, but at the very least he could protect her from the people who would just take what he wanted. 

“I don’t think I can do this on my own,” she whispered. She shifted again, tugging at the bindings once more. Annoyed at her constant fidgeting he reached over and loosened them slightly. His fingers lingered on the reddened marks on her wrist, he pressed lightly on them and she shivered. 

He let her go and sat back against the post. “I know.”

“I stupidly thought I would find something in Filly. I think I was trying to prove something to myself, but I can’t do this. I need help, but I’m not gonna let you treat me like some pet you didn’t want.” 

He sighed and she turned to look at him. When he really took her in, actually paid attention to her, he could see how tired she was. That sort of bone deep tired that you only get after a lot of bad days. He’s sure that’s what this was, it’s how it was for him when he first started out on his own. 

He didn’t have anyone to help him or guide him, he figured it out on his own. It made him smarter, stronger, turned him into somebody that no one was going to fuck with. She was a lot different than him, though. 

“Alright.”

“You’re going to help me,” she held out her hands and he understood the gesture for what it was. A test, to see if he was true to his word, if you could actually believe him. 

He grinned and yanked her closer, reveling in the way she winced at the ropes burning the open wounds. “I’ve had a taste of you now, sweetheart, I won’t be letting you go anytime soon.” She doesn’t flinch when he pulls out his knife, not even when he presses it against the tender skin of her wrist.

There’s trust in her eyes, a hesitant trust, but it was there. He slices through the knot of rope and wraps the rest of it up to put back in his bag. She lets out a sigh of relief and rubs at the irritated patches of skin. “I really did love you, you know?”

He’s sick of this. He’s sick of how sad she sounds, how tired. It’s barely been a week and she’s already starting to give up. He's already made the decision to keep her around, he’s not one to go back on his word. But she’s making it real hard to not just knock her out and shut her up. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, “so did I.”

She scoffed, “No. You didn’t, not like I did.”

His hand clenches at his side in frustration. What’s it gonna take to drill this into her head? He grabs her by the chin and yanks her forward, the leather of his glove smushing her lips together. “I loved you. You don’t get to doubt that and you don’t get to doubt me.”

He’s darting forward before she can shove him back. Her hands hang limply between them and she gasps in surprise when he presses their lips together. It’s not altogether pleasant, her lips cracked and bloodied and his have long since turned to leather. 

But that familiar passion he once held for her sparks up and he shoves forward. She whimpers and lets herself fall back, hands grabbing at his jacket and tugging him closer. He used to treat her gently, savor their time together like they’d never have another chance. It always felt like that, they were one moment away from losing each other. He supposes he’d been right, their time was short. 

Who they were now were two different people to who they’d been. He bites down on her lip hard enough to draw blood and pulls back. She’s staring up at him, shocked and flustered. He can’t tell if she wants to kiss him again or slap him. He doesn’t give her a chance to choose, he licks her blood off his lips and drops her to the ground.

She groans as her head slams against the floor, sand and dust billowing out from under her. “You should get some rest. We’ve got a long walk tomorrow.” He leaves her there in the dirt, lets her linger in the feeling of his rejection. He rubs at his lips and savors the taste of her blood on his tongue. 

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.