I'm Breaking In And Stealing All Of Your Drafts For Hugh Jackman(all Of Them)

your new arthur series is SENDINNGGG me mouth DROPPED open end of ch 2 😭 amazing job!

STAWWWWP, tysm- I'm so happy to be getting back into chaptered fics. The word count is reaching novel length at this point lmao

Have you played through fallout 4 yet? I wanna request something but don't want to give spoilers

I’m currently playing it. But you can send me a request. I probably won’t get to it until my current series is finished but I’m totally cool with spoilers

Broken Machinery

Pt. 5 (completed series)

Series masterlist

Connor RK800 x fem!reader

A/N: I wanted drama but my hatred for miscommunication tropes has thwarted me. 

Content Warnings: Cussing (duh), adult conversations about feelings, sex androids, perverts, Gavin

Word Count: 5k

Series Summary: You and your grumpy partner Anderson gain a new addition to the team. He’s supposed to be CyberLife’s best, but there’s something not quite right with his programming, and the problems seem to revolve around you.

Connor was in your living room.

Connor was in your living room staring at a flower. 

Connor was in your living room. 

Why was he still here? You’d thought he had left last night. You looked around your home, like someone was about to pop out and attack you. He obviously hadn’t planned an ambush, but why else would he be here?

“It was a guess.” You jumped ten feet out of your skin at the sound of his voice. You’d assumed he had been in sleep mode. Once the scare wore off you finally processed his words. 

“What was a guess?” You really didn’t want to care, but curiosity got the best of you.

Androids didn’t guess they came to educated conclusions provided by their software. You made your way to the kitchen to make some coffee, but Connor stopped you by putting a mug in the air, you could still see the steam coming out of it. 

You took it from his hands and sniffed it like it was poisoned. After his display with the noodles last night you really didn’t trust his prowess in the kitchen. It didn’t seem like he had messed anything up. You took a seat in the armchair across from the couch.

The repairman must have already come, your window was fixed, the blinds were open on all the windows letting the morning light inside. 

It didn’t escape your notice that Connor’s LED had been a steady red since you had walked into the living room. Or that he had wiped off your drawings. “On the roof I took a risk.”

You stiffened at the mention of the roof. The fear was still present, the feeling like you had wasted your entire life and would have nothing to show for it was still heavy on your chest. 

When you’d been faced with certain death, you hadn’t gotten a pretty flashback of all the good points in your life. You hadn’t felt at ease, like what you’d been put on the earth to do had been completed. You had felt absolutely worthless. Like you’d never amounted to anything and had disapointed everyone around you.

You felt like no one would miss you when you were gone, and that hurt worse than anything.

To avoid feeling, you’d been shoving any thoughts of the roof deep down into the abyss of your other repressed memories. You didn’t feel like reliving any of that with the android that had left you to die. Connor must have seen how quickly you’d become defensive because he rushed to finish the rest of his thought. 

“I could hear Hank coming up the stairs, he was barely three feet away from us. You had a 40% chance of survival without my help. You were guaranteed survival by Hank’s arrival. My mission took precedence and I pursued the deviant.” Connor finally looked away from the flower and at you. “I’ve replayed the memory a hundred times since it happened and I keep coming to the same conclusion; I didn’t want to leave you.”

Connor gets up from the couch and kneels in front of you on your chair. You’re still struggling to process what he’s saying. “I wanted to stay and be the one to catch you. You were my priority, but my programming forced me after the deviant and I had no choice but to pursue.” 

You were reeling from the bomb he had just dropped. The fact that he wanted anything was a problem, androids didn’t want. They followed orders. They weren’t allowed feelings or desires. 

His LED was still red, you were starting to worry about what this would mean for the stability of Connor’s programming. If anything he was saying was true then he was at risk of being deactivated soon.

Therein lies the problem. Was any of this the truth or was it just another form of manipulation to gain your trust back?

“How do I know you actually mean what you’re saying?” Connor looked up from where he had been staring at your hands, his head tilted at your question. “I know your favorite dog isn't a St. Bernard, Connor, okay? I know that you can illegally acquire documents if it’s necessary for the succession of your mission. I know you’re capable of actions that other androids aren’t. Including manipulation.” You leaned in towards his face. “How do I know that you’re not using those tactics on me right now?”

Connor’s face scrunched up in something that looked a hell of a lot like frustration. “Damn it, Y/N, just listen to me! There is something happening inside me that I have no control over. Every glitch in my software, every instability, every irrational instruction it all revolves around you! I wanted to save you and I couldn’t. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry.”

What Connor was asking for right now was trust, another chance, a leap of blind faith. He was asking a lot for someone who just left you to die. But he was also trusting you, trusting that you wouldn’t report him or have him deactivated for signs of deviancy.

Trust needs to go both ways.

So, you would take the leap, the small risk that he was lying to you. You would take it and believe him, because you were desperate.

Desperate for this to be the truth, to be so special to someone you were literally breaking their programming. That innate desire for someone to just accept you as you were was ripping down any walls you were attempting to build between yourself and Connor. 

Yes, you were still upset about what happened on the roof, and no, things wouldn’t be the same as they were before. But maybe that didn’t have to be a bad thing. 

“Okay.”

Maybe it’s better to go into this again with the sobering reminder that he was an android. He wasn’t a stray puppy or someone that needed protection. He was a machine with programming and rules to follow. It wasn’t fair to be so mad at him for something he had no control over. 

But this moment, where he’s staring at you with a desperation that mirrors your own, also reminds you that they can feel. Sometimes they just need that push in the right direction. 

“What?”

“I believe you.” You didn’t give him a second to process that information before you asked your next question, “But that still doesn’t tell me what your guess was on the roof?”

Connor reached up and fiddled with his tie, he apparently still needed a moment to register the fact that you were trusting him. “The guess was that you wouldn’t hate me afterwards… and that perhaps the Lieutenant being the one to save you would help your relationship.”

“Well, it didn’t. He hasn’t talked to me since I got out of the hospital.” Connor frowned at that. “Look, I appreciate the honesty and the attempt at fixing my relationship with him. However, partnerships are built on trust, I need to be able to trust you completely when we’re out in the field together. If I can’t then we have no chance of closing this case, so override whatever you need to override to make your first objective your partner's safety.” 

Connor nodded and fixed his sleeves, “Done.”

You nodded, “Good, now let’s go get something to eat. I’m starving.” It was only when you got up to change that you noticed what the flower was on your coffee table.

A black dahlia.

“The Lieutenant really hasn’t contacted you?” You glanced up at Connor from your breakfast sandwich and shook your head. The thought made your eyes sting. “That’s unacceptable,” you snorted at Connor’s indignation. His LED had gone back to a cool blue once you had given him the objective of feeding you. “I’ll be staying with you until you’re healed, then.”

You choked on the water in your mouth. Connor’s hand came down in pats hard enough to dislodge the water but not enough to further damage your ribs. “What?” You croak out as you attempt to blink tears out of your eyes. 

“You needed assistance dressing yourself this morning,” you rolled your eyes.

That was a bit dramatic, you just needed a bit of help getting your shirt on, and your jeans… and tying your shoes, plus your hair. It wasn’t even a lot.

“And bathing, plus, keeping a tidy living area will help with your psychological recovery. There’s nothing wrong with getting some help, detective. All I need is somewhere to sit so I can recharge.”

“Do I have any choice?”

Connor stared at you in silence for a long moment before responding with a stern, “No.”

Moving him in was easy. 

He literally only owned the flower.

The same flower he tried to give you at the hospital. You feel a bit guilty everytime you look at it. You just end up thinking about the way you acted when he came to visit you at the hospital. You were a bit blinded by your own terror and rage at the time, but thinking back it was clear he had wanted to make amends with you. 

And android ‘recharge’ just meant he sat somewhere and shut down while his software repaired any damage he had acquired during the day. So you set him up on the couch. You didn’t really do much after breakfast, Connor forced you to stay on the couch or in your room. He had also forced you into your sling, you hated the way it scratched on your neck, but every time you went to take it off he would appear out of nowhere and place it right back on. 

He was like a parent with a sixth sense for when their toddler was sticking something in their mouth they shouldn’t. 

Your entire day was spent with Connor hovering around somewhere in the background while you let your TV make your brain dumber. 

At around eight Connor stopped from where he had been digging around in your bookshelf. He stayed completely still in his squatted position and his LED turned yellow. You’d gotten used to his random stopping and going so you just ignored him and turned your attention back to the god awful soap on TV. 

It was when he made his way to your front door that you finally turned your attention towards him. “Where’re you going?”

“I just received information on another deviant case, I’m going to retrieve Lieutenant Anderson.”

You quickly shot off the couch and stared at him in offense. “Without me?”

He gave you a deadpan look, “You’re still injured, detective. You need rest, it would be unwise for you to come with me.”

Well that’s sure as hell not happening. Time to engage in some manipulation tactics of your own. “Fine. But I’m going to follow you anyway. I’m probably gonna get changed on my own too, see if I can drive with only one arm,” you totally could, but he didn’t need to know that. “You know I still have a minor concussion,” you began walking towards your bedroom, “I wonder how badly that affects someone’s ability to drive.”

The taxi pulled up to the curb of Lieutenant Anderson’s house and Connor let you out first. He followed behind and made his way to the door. You wandered towards Hank’s car while he tried to get his attention at the door. “Lieutenant Anderson?” Connor glanced over at you, you had accidentally triggered the perimeter light in front of the garage and were quickly tip-toeing your way back to him. 

He tried the doorbell, “Anybody home?” You brushed against him and shoved your finger into the doorbell, holding it there for a few seconds before making it play a discordant tune. 

“Huh, that usually works.” 

FIND A WAY INSIDE

Connor left you to play with the doorbell while he searched around the perimeter of the house. He peered into every window until he found an open one by the kitchen. A quick look inside showed him the Lieutenant was passed out on his kitchen floor. “Lieutenant Anderson?”

Non-responsive. Connor didn’t waste any time breaking the window and jumping through. He landed on his back and a large St. Bernard was immediately standing over him. “Easy… Sumo, I’m your friend, see? I know your name, I’m here to save your owner.” He was a little worried that he might attack him until his tail started wagging and he turned back around, out of the kitchen. 

You were standing in the entrance doorway, holding a key up for him to see. You looked at the broken glass under him and then to the window. “Dude… You have a problem.” Your gaze drifted, landing on the Lieutenant. “Shit, dad.” You pocketed the key and rushed over to Hank’s side. “Oh, god, gross.” You backed away slightly when you caught sight of the vomit on Hank’s face and chest. 

Connor kneeled next to Hank and quickly scanned him. “He’s got slight arrhythmia, but no sign of trauma to his heart.” He kept the information about the gun to himself, but from the way you were looking down at it he had a feeling you already knew the game the Lieutenant was playing. “I suspect it’s an ethylic coma.” Connor lightly slapped the Lieutenants cheek in an attempt to wake him, but you pushed his hand away. 

“I’ve got this,” you were more than eager to land a harsh slap to the Lieutenants cheek that left a bright mark in the shape of your hand. “Wake up, asshole.”

The Lieutenant came to and Connor leaned over, “It’s me Connor, and Y/N.” Connor reached over and grabbed Hank’s arm, slinging it over his shoulder. “I’m going to sober you up for your own safety.”

“Hey! Leave me alone, you fuckin’ android!” 

“I have to warn you, this may be unpleasant.”

Hank looked towards you and frowned, “Get the fuck outta my house, I told you I didn’t want you around!” There were tears building in the corner of your eyes, but you helped Connor lead the Lieutenant to the bathroom anyway. “Sumo! Attack!” The dog’s tail hit the ground but he made no move to get up. “Good dog.”

Connor propped Hank onto the wall to open up the bathroom door. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“The fuck do you think happens when you drink a whole bottle of whiskey?” You were frowning at the Lieutenant, hostility clear in your voice. 

“It was only… half.” His words were slurred and he seemed disoriented. He was no use to either of you in this shape. “Leave me alone, asshole! I’m not going anywhere…” When the Lieutenant attempted to hang onto the bathroom door frame you were quick to slam your fist on his fingers, making him yelp and pull back in pain. 

Connor saw four notes on the bathroom mirror, two were in Hank’s handwriting, ‘I’m not grumpy I just don’t like you!’ ‘To shave or not’ 

The other two he recognized as yours from your written reports; ‘Today will be fantastic!’ ‘You’re doing great :)’

Connor shoved the Lieutenant down with a little more force than necessary when he saw the sad way you were looking at the notes, and the way you seemed to hunch down more into yourself. “Sorry, Lieutenant. It’s for your own good.” There was a slight satisfaction as he turned the water on cold and watched the Lieutenant struggle, it left him when he turned around and realized you were no longer in the bathroom. 

“OH GOD! TURN IT OFF! TURN IT OFF!” He was certainly aware now. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“A homicide was reported forty three minutes ago. We couldn’t find you at Jimmy’s bar, so Y/N suggested we see if you were at home.”

“Jesus, I must be the only cop in the world that gets assaulted in his own house by his own fuckin’ android… Can’t you just leave me alone?”

Connor ignored the lack of concern Hank displayed at the fact that you weren’t at home, like you should be, resting. “You seem to have personal issues. You should consult a professional who can help you.” Connor would not be offering his support to Hank. 

“Beat it! You hear me?! Get the hell outta here!” Connor helped the Lieutenant back onto the edge of the bathtub when he stumbled. 

“I understand. It probably wasn’t interesting anyway… A man found dead in a sex club downtown…Guess they’ll have to solve the case without us…” Connor promised not to use any manipulation tactics on you, he didn’t say anything about not using them on the Lieutenant. 

“You know, probably wouldn’t do me any harm to get some air… There’s some clothes in the bedroom there.”

BRING HANK CLEAN CLOTHES

“I’ll go get them.” He closed the door as Hank began throwing up. 

“Hey, cutie.”

Connor turned towards your voice, “Hello, detective.” You were leaning over petting Sumo, your eyes widened when he responded to a compliment clearly meant for the animal you were interacting with. 

You smiled at him, “I was talking to Sumo.”

Connor cleared his throat, “I knew that.” He moved towards the bedroom and then paused, you were still watching him. “Even if I didn’t, it would be understandable that I would be confused, you call me by a myriad of nicknames.” You were still smiling as he walked into the bedroom. 

You seemed to be pleased by other people’s embarrassment. He chose an outfit he thought might be embarrassing for Hank to wear, in an attempt to lift your mood after the Lieutenants drunken outburst. A streaky zebra patterned shirt that was out of date according to the fashion catalogs Connor had on file. 

He left the clothes on the sink as Hank threw up some more. 

Why did his humans have to be so complicated?

When he walked back towards the living room, you were in the kitchen. You had Hank’s gun in your hand and were staring at a picture on the table in the kitchen. Connor scanned it and recognized the child in the photo to be Cole. 

He gently took the gun from your hand, you used it’s newfound freedom to lift the picture towards your face. Connor chose not to say anything about the gun, but kept the information logged away. 

HANK HAS SUICIDAL TENDENCIES

Connor stared down at the large amount of empty takeout boxes on the kitchen table. “The Lieutenants diet is nearly as bad as yours.” That startled you out of the trance you had been in, staring at the picture. 

“Excuse me?”

Connor shrugged, “I told you, you need more fiber and protein.” 

You scoffed indignantly, “At least I eat fruit. This shit’s all sodium.” Connor engaged in friendly banter with you in an attempt to keep your mind off whatever has been bothering you since you found the Lieutenant passed out on the floor. 

Hank came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, you immediately snickered at the sight of his shirt. “Snazzy, Hank.” Connor’s assumption was correct, you had an immature form of humor. You quickly moved Connor to hide the damage he had done to the window

Hank chose to ignore the comment as he walked out the door, “Be a good dog, Sumo.”

“Gross,” You were staring up at the entrance to the Eden Club, watching the video of the sexiest androids they had to offer play out. “This is creepier than sex dolls, at least those don’t breathe.” 

“Are you sure this is the place?”

Connor turned off the ignition and looked at the Lieutenant in the back seat, “It’s the address in the report.” Connor got out and moved to open your door, you gave him a small thank you as you exited. 

“Sexiest androids in town. Now I know why you insisted on coming here.” Connor ignored the Lieutenant in favor of observing you. You seemed uncomfortable watching the androids dance on the poles. 

“Is there something wrong, detective?”

You frowned, “It just creeps me out, they’re standing in boxes waiting to be picked and then they just get fucked. There’s no consent or pleasure for them, they physically can’t even say no.”

Connor was confused, “That’s their purpose detective. To pleasure humans.”

You gave Connor a long look that he couldn’t decipher. “Doesn’t mean it's right.”

You follow Hank towards the briefing and Connor lags behind in favor of observing the androids in the club, processing your words. He couldn’t fathom their meaning, androids were designed with one purpose, and programmed to carry out that purpose. Saying it wasn’t right was like saying it was wrong for a washing machine to clean your clothes. Androids were objects and you seemed to have trouble understanding that. 

“Connor! The fuck are you doing?” You and Hank were staring at him watch the Traci model dance, you had a frown on your face. 

“Coming, Lieutenant.” 

He barely heard you mutter, “I bet.”

The congested voice of Ben rang out through the club and the three of you moved towards him. He directed you towards the room the murder occurred in. Ben stopped you before you could enter, “Gavin’s in there, watch out.” 

“Ugh, as if this night couldn’t get any worse, thanks Benny.” He nodded and moved back towards the owner of the club. 

You walked through the room first. “Look, it’s Detective Y/LN, and her plastic toy. The fuck do you want?”

Connor answered before you could, your adrenaline had immediately spiked at the sight of the detective and he didn’t need you getting in another physical altercation. “We’ve been assigned all cases involving androids.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, you’re wasting your time.” He turned towards the body and laughed. “Just some pervert who, uh, got more action than he could handle.”

“You’re such a-”

Hank quickly grabbed your uninjured arm. “We’ll have a look anyway. If you don’t mind.” 

Gavin scoffed, “It’s starting to stink of booze in here anyway.” He purposefully knocked into Connor on the way out and Hank had to physically hold you back from jumping at him. Your willingness to engage in physical conflict while in already damaged condition was worrisome to Connor. 

Chris bade you all goodnight and you just barely muttered one back before he was gone. Hank was unbothered by your anger as he let you go again. “I hate that son of a bitch.” You continued talking to yourself about your hatred for Gavin as you looked around the room. Connor only caught bits and pieces of your rant, it was disturbing how well you could plan out a murder. 

EXAMINE VICTIM

EXAMINE ANDROID

Connor went to the victim first and reconstructed the scene. He was strangled deliberately, this was not a failure of the heart like Gavin had dismissed it to be. “He didn’t die of a heart attack, he was strangled.” You barely glanced towards Connor before continuing to angrily look around the room. 

“-can’t even do his job right.” 

Hank confirmed his conclusion, “Yeah, I saw the bruising on his neck.” You walked over and peered at the dead body.

“How did he miss that?”

“He most likely assumed it was a consensual part of their time together.” Heat rose to your cheeks at Connor’s words and you quickly turned away from the body and towards the android. You were very cagey when it came to discussing anything sexual in nature around Connor, he assumed it was due to your attraction towards him and how easily you were aroused. 

EXAMINE VICTIM

EXAMINE ANDROID

Connor frowned at Hank’s words that it didn’t prove anything. He was right, it was circumstantial. “We’re missing something,” you mumbled, kneeling down near the android. Connor walked over and joined you, he provide a more thorough examination than you could. “Think you can read her memory?”

“I can try…” It wasn’t a guarantee. It seemed pretty badly damaged and if it was reactivated, it might not be working for long. 

Hank went through the victims wallet while the both of you looked over the android. “A credit car, cash in the wallet… Picture of his wife and two daughters… I wouldn’t want to make that call.” You stood from your position and stretched out your legs. 

“We’ve made worse.”

He finished his analysis of the android. “The only way to access its memory is to reactivate it.”

“Think you can do it?”

“It’s badly damaged… If I can it‘ll only be for a minute, maybe less… I just hope it’s long enough to learn something”

You both watched him from the corner of the room as he worked to reactivate the android. Connor quickly stood as the android shot up and crawled to the corner of the room. He approached slowly, trying not to startle it too much, being mindful of the limited time he had. “Calm down, everything’s alright. All we want is to know what happened.” Her eyes shot to you in the background. Ignoring Connor’s presence. 

“Is he… Is he dead?” You seemed surprised she spoke to you, but quickly stepped forward and kneeled next to Connor. 

“Yes.” 

“Did you kill him?” Her head shot back towards Connor.

“No, no it wasn’t me.”

“Who was it? Was there someone else in the room?” Your line of questioning caught Connor off guard. After your interrogation in the police station he assumed you to be incompetent in that part of your work. You seem to have a better read on this situation then you did with the HK400. Connor moved to the side and let you take over, the android seemed to respond better to you. 

“I- I don’t know, he said he wanted to play with two of us. He just started hitting me again, and again.”

“Do you know what the model was? Did she look like you?”

“I can’t remember, I was so scared. I’ve never felt that before.” You reached out and took it’s hand. 

“It’s okay, you’re alright.” It nodded before it’s eyes stopped blinking and it shut down. “So, there was another android.”

“This happened over an hour ago, it’s probably long gone.” You nodded at Hank’s assumption. 

“If it were smart, but Connor’s said it before, deviants work on irrational instructions. There’s no logic to their behavior, it might still be nearby.”

“Plus,” Connor added, “it wouldn’t be able to walk around dressed like that unnoticed.” 

“Think you could find a deviant among all the other androids in this place?”

Connor considered Hank’s question, “I could try.”

You seemed to be enjoying watching Hank pay for so many different androids. You were still laughing as he bought a male model, “God, Fowler’s gonna have a field day with this one.” You wiped your eyes, “Oh, this is amazing.”

Hank frowned, “This is about to be the most expensive investigation of my career.” He glared at you, “Glad to see you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Very much so.”

“I know where it went! Follow me.” Both you and Hank turned to follow Connor down the hallway he saw the android go down.

Hank stopped Connor from progressing, “Wait. I’ll take it from here.” Connor nodded and moved back, pushing you behind him. You started to follow them down the stairs when Hank stopped you. “Stay there.”

“What?”

“You’re injured, you shouldn’t even be out of the house. Stay. There!” Hank pushed you back onto the stairs and you threw yourself down onto them, crossing your arms and glaring at Hank. 

You waited until he had walked away to whisper a, “Like you even care.” From the way his shoulders tensed and his footsteps stuttered he had heard you clearly. 

Connor ignored the open warehouse door and continued to search through the storage room, keeping an eye on you to make sure you stayed put. He heard a small gag from the stairs when he sampled a small puddle of thirium off the floor. 

SEARCH FOR BLUE BLOOD TRAIL

The trail led him to a group of androids in the back. Seemingly unactivated, except a blue-haired Traci’s LED was circling through different colors. Connor was hyper focused on watching the blue-haired Traci. It made him blind to the brunette Traci at the front of the group. It had already lunged for him by the time he noticed its LED was also changing colors. 

Your voice was a distraction as the brunette tackled him to the floor, “Shit! Connor-”

Hank stopped his pursuit towards Connor to turn towards you. He pointed his gun at you, “Stay put!” He made it over to Connor to try and help him but the blue haired Traci grabbed Hank and threw him to the ground.

Connor grabbed the brunette Traci by its bra straps and flipped it over a container, only for her to grab a hold of his tie and take him down with her. She straddled him and slammed his head down onto the concrete floor so hard his visual processors temporarily malfunctioned. It was enough of a distraction for her to grab a screwdriver off a nearby shelf, she leapt back onto him and attempted to stab it down into his face. He threw his hand up-

Thirium splattered across his face as the screwdriver stabbed through his palm. He shoved the Traci back and off of him, he whirled around, desperately looking for something to use as a defense. He heard a pained shout and watched as a shelf flew into the Traci. You had managed to sneak behind them both and were panting as you held onto your arm. 

Connor was too busy trying to scold you to notice the Traci getting back up, you let out a surprised squeak and ran behind him, back towards the safety of the stairs. He watched you, confused why you were running, until he felt himself being slammed into a wall. He grabbed the Traci’s hands and threw her back.

He made a run for the table that held an android being worked on and threw the stool near it at the Traci. She swatted it aside like it was nothing. There was a deactivated android standing next to him, he grabbed onto it and threw it at her. 

“Oof-“ 

He was thrown out the open warehouse door and onto his back, standing above him was the blue-haired Traci. She went back inside and grabbed the brunette. He caught a glimpse of them holding hands before Hank was standing up and trying to grab them, only to be knocked back into a pile of trash.

“Hey! Not fighting! Not a part of this,” at some point, while Connor was trying to recover from the fall, the blue haired Traci had dragged you outside, it threw you down next to Hank.

He made his way towards you, scanning you for any possible injuries. You shoved at him, “Connor, move!”

He jumped up from checking on you to see the androids trying to jump the fence at the end of the alleyway. Connor ran over and managed to grab a hold of one of their biceps. Throwing it to the ground, the other one leapt down and onto his back.

He rammed into the alleyways wall to get the one on his back to release him. The blue-haired Traci ran at him, grabbing at his throat while the other attempted to ram its knee into his gut. He grabbed the blue-haired Traci’s wrist and bent it back until he heard the uncomfortable creak of metal, then grabbed the brunette’s leg and shoved her to the ground. She looped a foot around his ankle and tugged him onto the ground next to her. 

Hank at some point, had managed to lose his gun. It was a foot away from Connor’s hand. He kicked the Traci’s face and scrambled to snatch the gun off the ground. It nearly slipped out of his hands, wet from the rainwater, before he managed to get the safety off and was pointing it at the two androids. 

He had it aimed, safety off, poised to fire. His finger pushed against the trigger and then just stopped. 

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY^

The brunette was back up and took advantage of his hesitation. landing a kick to his face that knocked him to the ground. You quickly scrambled over to him, helping him to his knees. 

The blue-haired Traci began speaking to him, her counterpart still holding the gun to his head. “When that man broke the other Traci… I knew I was next… I was so scared, I begged him to stop, but he wouldn’t… And so I put my hands around his throat, and I squeezed until he stopped moving. I didn’t mean to kill him. I just wanted to stay alive. Get back to the one I love,” her eyes were pleading as she looked to Connor.

“You have to understand that. Being held by the one you love, forgetting the rottenness of those who use us, just for a moment.” The Traci looked at you, standing next to Connor, holding onto his arm. He wondered why she would speak to him of love. He was incapable of something so illogical. She turned towards the brunette, “Come on, let’s go.”

You all watched them gracefully climb the fence and run down the street on the other side of the alley.

“Holy shit, I think that’s the most impressive thing I’ve ever seen. Did they just climb that, in stilettos?” You walked over to examine the fence. Hank walked over and gave Connor a strange look.

“It’s probably better this way.”

You walked back towards them and laid a gentle hand on Connor’s shoulder. “You did a good job.”

He was still struggling to process what had happened. He had let the deviants go, gone against direct orders. He failed his mission, nothing about what he just did was good or a success. 

So, why did he feel like he had just done something right?

end. — I do not own the characters or the game Detroit: Become Human, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

the newlyweds

Pairing ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Logan Howlett x fem!reader (Flux)

a/n: I wrote this at 3 AM and I'm also pretty sure I'm sick, so bare with me. Based on this: ask

You know Logan can't stand you, but it doesn't stop the way you feel about him. Your mind recognizes the hate in his eyes whenever you're in the same room, but your heart can't. Finally, you come to terms with the truth: it's never gonna happen. However, your newfound resolve is flipped on its head when you're forced to go undercover with him as newlyweds. Your new wedding ring is a noose and you don't know how you'll survive it or him.

You stumble forward as someone knocks into you from behind. Their shoulder jams painfully into your ribcage and you trip into the wall in front of you. “Shit,” you hiss, rubbing your back and turning around to glare at whoever it was. You figure it's a kid skipping class, imagine your surprise when it’s a fully grown man practically growling at you. 

“Where the hell am I?” He darts forward, grabbing you by the arms and jerking you towards him. “Who are you people?” You’re stunned into silence, eyes wide with shock as he pushes your spine into the wall behind you. 

You recognize him now. This is the man who was with Rogue in the truck you, Ororo, and Summers rescued. The only reason you don’t toss him across the room and rip his spine out through his throat is because you know how disoriented he is. Though, with the way his claws threaten to pierce your skin, you are tempted to. 

“Ah,” a familiar and welcomed voice sounds out from beside you both. “I see you’ve met Flux.” Charles rarely ever uses your actual name, mainly introducing you through your X-Men persona. It’s a preference of yours. 

The man’s eyes dart between you and Charles, and your own turn into slits the longer he keeps his tight grip on you. “Wanna let me go now?” You demand voice practically a growl. Your patience has never been wonderful, but he’s really working on your last nerve. 

He blinks, seemingly coming back to himself. With an almost regretful look, he lets you go. You sigh in irritation, straightening your shirt out and shoving past the corner he’s pushed you into. “Who the hell is this?” You snap, moving to stand behind Charles. 

He gives you an apologetic look, “I’m not sure. He hasn’t introduced himself yet.” He gives the man an expectant look. Instead of answering he glances around, and scoffs. 

“What is this, summer camp? You people don’t need to know me, I don’t need to know you. Just show me how to get the fuck out, alright?” Finding Charles’ school had been heaven on earth. He’d provided you with a home and a haven you never thought you would have the privilege of. You’d never shown anger in the face of his guidance or generosity. But many have. 

You can tell, as much as the man in front of you might believe otherwise, he’s going to be enjoying the comfort of Charles’ protection soon. You move to the side, leaving them to their conversation. Instead, you focus on keeping the kids away from the newest form of entertainment. You usher them towards their classes, despite their reluctance. 

The other members of the team soon join you all, introducing themselves. “Storm, Cyclops,” he scoffs a little at Scott’s name and you feel a reluctant smile tugging at your lips. He turns towards you, brows furrowed inquisitively, “Flux?”

“Matter manipulation,” you explain bluntly. He shrugs his shoulders giving you a blank look. Sighing you hold out your hand and gesture to Charles’ desk. With a flick of your wrist, it melts into an unnatural form of liquid wood. Logan’s eyes widen and you can’t help but finally let the full smile form on your lips. “Flux was just what fourteen-year-old me thought fit best.”

He nods, turning back towards Charles with a smarmy grin. “And what do they call you, wheels?” Your eyes widen with shock and an unbidden laugh surges forth. Charles sends you a playful glare and you have to turn around to keep from laughing more. 

You’d thought you wouldn’t like this one. It’s always bad when there’s a member on the team you don’t get along with. It’s not common, but it has happened. They simply keep you separated if they can. The school is wonderful, but it’s not perfect. Not everyone will like each other. You think you and Logan will get along just fine, though.

It started slow, barely noticeable at first. You didn’t know him well enough to understand that the way he treats you is completely different from how he treats everyone else. Where your greetings are brushed off with cold shoulders or the occasional glare, others at the very least get a brief mumble of hello. When you speak, you can practically feel the irritation wafting off of him in waves. You taste his hatred in every interaction. 

There’s no exact moment you can pinpoint where you went wrong. Sure, your introduction to one another was rocky at best. But he’d nearly thrown Jean across the room when they first met and they got along just fine. 

You’ve thought about it, for far too long, about what makes you different than the others. Is it your smile? The pitch of your voice? Of course, you understand that sometimes there are just people that you meet and something inside you hates them. There’s never a true explanation behind the feeling, just instinct. 

But you can’t place what about you would make someone so guarded, so mean. It feels like such a childish word, like too simple of a way to explain Logan. The very least you know about him is that he can never be summed up with the word simple. There are secrets buried deep within him, some he knows, others he doesn’t. You can’t just slap a label on him and walk away. 

More often than not, though, you feel like you’re talking to one of your childhood bullies and not a team member. Because, despite your own feelings towards him, at the end of the day you are team members. There’s no getting around it. From that connection comes, what should be, a base level of respect. 

You’re both in charge of protecting one another and looking out for each other on the field. That means when you put on the suit, you’re putting aside petty grievances. But he seems incapable of that as well. 

You’ve spent mornings practicing your greetings, trying to tone down your cheeriness or inflect your voice with a more welcoming timbre. You’ve changed how you dress, how you do your hair, even your makeup. And at the end of it all, you still got the same miserable look and distinct feeling of worthlessness. All of the change has been temporary, you are a creature of habit. Inevitably, you slide back into the same habits and styles that make you, you. 

You feel stupid, trying to change yourself to better fit someone else's tastes. Especially when it’s someone who so clearly despises you. It’s not how you carry yourself, how you look, it’s the mere fact you exist that bothers him. At least, that’s the conclusion you’ve come to in all your months of experimenting. 

It truly shouldn’t bother you so much. There’s always going to be people who don’t like you. There’s nothing you can do about it. And you’ve never had that desire to change other's opinions on you. But something about Logan has dug its claws under your skin and has refused to let go. You can’t get him out of your head, even when you feel like you hate him, he’s all you think about. You’ve considered asking Jean to use her abilities to somehow dig him out of your brain and keep him out. But you don’t think that would work either. 

You step into the kitchen and nearly freeze in the doorway. Logan sits at the island, back to you as he reads the newspaper. You find yourself lightening your steps, quieting your breath. You make yourself as inconspicuous and convenient as possible. Every time you catch yourself doing something like this, you hate yourself just a little bit more. 

You shouldn’t have to alter parts of yourself to better fit someone else’s needs. You slip along the tiles, your socked feet slamming into the corner of the counter as you pass it. “Shit!” You shout, doubling over as you clutch your throbbing toes. 

So much for being inconspicuous. 

Logan’s head shoots up in shock as he glares over his paper at you. You let out a strained whimper, reluctantly releasing your foot and hobbling towards the coffee pot. You’ve taken more bullets than you count, and somehow that still hurt worse. 

You can’t just ignore him, you feel his stare burning into your back, and it feels too dickish-too much like him, to not say anything. “Morning,” you mutter over your shoulder, barely looking at him. You pour your coffee, trying to ignore how daunting the silence seems. You might as well be alone in the room for all the attention he’ll grant you. 

You feel like a beggar, on hands and knees just for a simple hello. Ever since his first night here, he’s been so aloof with you. It’s only devolved since then. You sigh, slamming the mug onto the counter. Something in you has snapped this morning and it’s not just the bones in your foot. You’re sick of this. 

You shouldn’t have to walk on eggshells around him. He’s not a toddler, he doesn’t deserve to be coddled and catered to. He’s a grown man, an X-Men for fuck’s sake. What he needs, is to learn a little emotional regulation. 

You turn, mouth open and sucking in a deep breath as you prepare your speech. The island is empty as you face it, his stool in the same place it had been while he was on it. The paper lies abandoned, even his nearly full mug is still on the granite. 

You scoff, snapping your jaw shut and rolling your eyes. “Jesus,” you mutter to yourself. Wonderful, even the same room is too much for him now. Something bitter has been forming in your mind. A rage building from weeks of unprompted cruel behavior. 

Yet, somehow, the thing that pushes you over the edge from interest to resentment is the fact that he didn’t say good morning back. 

You teach history at the school, but the majority of your role at the mansion is to train children with powers similar to yours. You’ve never met a mutant who had such a broad scope with their abilities as you do. Some can turn water to ice, control the blood running through someone’s veins, or make the air around them a solid block. But you’ve yet to meet one who manipulates anything with matter the way you do. 

Still, for training, you deal with the unreliable, untameable, and generally more dangerous abilities. And sometimes for training, you work with other teachers and let your kids practice on each other. It’s a rotating schedule, and unfortunately, the week you’ve decided you hate him, you’re partnered with Logan for training. 

You’ve got the entirety of Charles’ backyard, which is essentially the size of a football field. It’s a lot of room for accidents and accidental misfires. You stand in front of the pond, admittedly a risky choice with these kids, and direct them all to their partners. 

“Remember, the goal of this isn’t to maim each other,” you give a particularly pointed glare towards Billy. He’s caused a lot of problems lately with his fires. “It’s just to learn how to wield your abilities to your advantage, to protect yourself and your team.”

You look to Logan, seeing if he wants to add anything or contribute to the class in some way. He just keeps his arms crossed, glowering at all the children like he’s imagining skewering them on his claws. Rolling your eyes, you turn back to the kids. “Let's start with the hand-to-hand maneuvers we went over yesterday before we practice with our abilities.”

“Why don’t you show us?” Your head whips towards Billy and you can’t help the sneer on your lips. He’s sat on the ground, legs crossed leisurely over each other. He doesn’t have a care in the world as he taunts you. 

“What?” You grit out, glaring at him.

“Show us what a balanced fight should look like between mutants. You and Logan,” he nods to the aforementioned man. Logan just quirks a brow, glancing at you before turning back to Billy. 

“I don’t think-”

“Fine.” You gape at Logan as he tugs his jacket off. He shrugs as he looks at you, moving towards the middle of the field. Of course, he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to try and pummel you. You’re sure that he’s just been waiting for an excuse to fight you. 

“If that’s what you want,” you mutter bitterly. You pull off your sweatshirt and start walking towards him. 

“Your cuffs,” Billy calls out from behind you. The other students all watch the interaction with rapt attention. They’re practically salivating at the chance to see you two fight each other. Meanwhile, Billy just seems like he wants to see someone bleed. 

The metal cuffs around your wrists are the only thing that stops you from leveling the entire school. Your abilities are so tightly entwined with your emotions that one unlucky bout of anger can lead you to vaporizing everyone around you. They dull your abilities just enough to still be useful but not deadly. You haven’t taken them off in years. And perhaps it’s wrong to lean so heavily on them for protection, but you have. That’s your cross to bear. You don’t even want to picture what will happen if you open that dam. 

“What?” Billy shrugs, sending you a sharp smirk. “How are we supposed to trust you, if you can’t even use your own damn abilities?” He snorts and narrows his eyes at you, “How the hell did you even become an X-Men, Flux?” His name rolls off your tongue with a sharpened venom. 

He oozes hatred and a burning resentment that catches you off guard. It’s too much to process the insults he’s hurling at you and the sudden one-eighty in his personality. You don’t even hear Logan coming until his fist is wrapped in Billy’s collar and he’s yanking him off his feet. 

He dangles him, just a couple of inches, off the ground, teeth practically bared at the kid. “Wanna keep talking, mouth?” 

“Log-” You’re cut off as a fireball shoots out of Billy’s palm and explodes against Logan’s gut. You gasp, throwing up a wall in front of the other kids so it can’t hurt them. “All right,” you call out sternly. “Everyone inside,” you demand, pointing the other kids back towards the manor. 

You linger with Logan, who still has Billy dangling from his fist, only he looks even more pissed off now. Anyone else, and they’d be dust at Billy’s feet. But Logan isn’t anyone else and the only collateral seems to be his shirt. 

Not that you mind the view. 

Billy hasn’t been here long enough to know what Logan’s abilities are, though. You don’t think he actually knew he could heal. The thought alone is worrying enough that you don’t force Logan to let him go. “We need to get him to Charles,” when Logan doesn’t move you put more force behind your voice, “now.”

Logan lets out a low huff before placing Billy back on his own two feet. He doesn’t let him go far, though, keeping his hand around the back of his neck and dragging him forward. You follow behind them, making sure he doesn’t rip him to pieces before Charles can speak with him. 

You sit outside Charles’ office, fingers tapping restlessly against your thigh as you stare at the mahogany walls in front of you. The red velvet of the seat is too soft and you find yourself slipping to the edge every few seconds. It’s too soft, too luxurious, your back aches the longer you wait. 

Charles had instructed both you and Logan to wait for him to finish up with Billy. It’s been nearly an hour, though, and you’re growing restless. You can tell Logan feels the same way. He’s pacing the hall like a caged lion about to rip the arm off its keeper. 

“How are you?” You blurt out, desperate for something to fill the silence. He stops abruptly, whipping around to face you. You flinch back slightly at the intense glare he’s sporting. “Your stomach, I mean,” you gesture towards the scorch marks on his shirt, the soot on his abs. 

It’s been a practice in self-control to not just be staring at his wonderfully sculpted muscles flexing this whole time. You’re pleasantly surprised with how well you’ve been doing so far. Though, now with him facing you, you’re finding it incredibly hard to meet his eye. He’s such an imposing figure, especially when he’s standing over you like this. 

“Fine,” he barks out, turning back around and effectively ending the conversation. Your eyes narrow and you scoff, god, why do you try?

The door swings open and you expect Billy to come running out crying with his tail tucked between his legs. Instead, you hear the familiar whirl of Charles wheels as he rolls into the hall. He faces you and Logan, a strained smile on his face. 

“Where’s Billy?” You slowly get to your feet, peering into his office. Your confusion only grows when you find it empty. 

“He’s away from the other children for now. He’ll need private lessons before we allow him near them again. And if that doesn’t work, we have no choice but to expel him.” You can tell it hurts Charles to say that. 

He does genuinely want the best for these kids. He wants mutants to have a home, a place where they can be themselves without fear of retaliation. Sometimes, though, it doesn’t work out. There’s nothing wrong with that, you all try your best to help the kids. But some of them have been so twisted by the world around them that there’s no undoing the damage. When they pose a risk the way Billy does, the other kids come first. 

Logan scoffs with distaste, stalking closer to Charles. “He tried to kill me, fucking tried to get Flux to take her cuffs off.” He gestures towards you, for once, though, you don’t feel like you’re being attacked. Even he can understand the dangers of that demand is idiotic. It’s clear Billy only wanted to watch everyone around him get hurt, he didn’t care about the consequences. 

Charles holds up a pacifying hand, nodding his head and dismissing Logan’s concerns. “I’m quite aware of what happened, Logan. But Billy is my responsibility and he’s not the reason I needed to talk to you both.”

He rolls back into his office, expecting you both to follow him. You fall in line behind him, taking a seat at his desk. Logan takes another minute to join you both, a reluctant scowl on his face as he sits beside you. Charles waves his hand, the door closing and providing you all with a little bit more privacy. 

He reaches into a drawer on his desk, pulling out a thin manilla folder. He pushes it towards both you and Logan. You share a confused look with Logan before flipping the file open. There are a few pictures of a stereotypical suburban neighborhood. Bright green laws, uniform driveways, each house looks the same as the last. 

There are a few more pictures, all of them taken from an awkward distance that makes it hard to determine what you’re looking at. You pass the pictures to Logan and shake your head at Charles. “I don’t understand, what is all this?”

“Your next mission,” he informs you both with a strained smile. 

Logan’s head shoots up, eyes narrowing in on Charles. “Excuse me?” He demands, his voice a growl more than anything. 

“There have been some disturbing rumors about this neighborhood. Mentions of a possible mutant trafficking ring being conducted behind closed doors. Normally, I would dismiss such claims. Oftentimes these are just ways to bait and snatch mutants. However, my own attempts at telepathic investigation have been thwarted. Even with Cerebro, I can’t seem to breach the neighborhood.”

“Something’s blocking you?” You ask, snatching the pictures back from Logan to get a better look. He tosses the folder back on the desk, muttering something you can’t hear. 

“Or someone. I’m worried there might be some truth to these rumors. And since I can’t find a safe way in, I need your help. You only need to do some reconnaissance. The only problem is how gated the community is. They’re not going to let anyone in unless they live there.”

Charles gives you both a cheekily expectant look. The truth is so hard to swallow that you almost can’t process it. “No,” you mutter, shaking your head and smiling, waiting for the punchline. When one doesn’t come you get up from your seat and give him a disbelieving look. “You want us undercover?”

Charles pulls out a key and smiles widely, “Congratulations on your new home, newlyweds.”

Logan shoots up from his seat, it wobbles precariously, nearly toppling to the ground.  “You want me to move into a house with her?” He spits out the sentence like it pains him to even have it in his mouth. A disbelieving smile spread across your cheeks, sardonic laughter slipping through parted lips. “Why can’t I do it with Jean? Or better yet you just get some other asshole to play her husband?”

Your heart stutters to a stop and you quickly rip your eyes off the pair. The stung worse than you think it should. Your heart aches, each beat painful. You feel like someone’s punched through your chest and ripped at all the tender bits. 

“I have chosen you,” Charles loses all humor from his voice. He is stern, like a father scolding his child, as he speaks to Logan. “And that’s the end of it. Besides, I don’t suppose that Jean’s fiance would appreciate her playing house with another man.” He places heavy emphasis on fiance, enough to get Logan to purse his lips and look away from him.

You speak up, your voice a surprise to them both. You claw through the lump in your throat, ignoring the hot burn behind your eyes. “I’m not doing this. Especially not with him,” you force the words out, wiping roughly at your cheeks. “Shit,” you hiss, looking down and trying to hide the tears that have slowly trickled down. 

You don’t allow either of them to argue, running out of the door and ignoring the calls of your name behind you. You can’t do this. Can’t pretend to be in love with Logan, not when he hates you. Not when it’s so close to the truth. 

Evidently, Charles didn't feel like giving either of you a choice.

You drum your fingers along the door handle. The cab of the truck rattles as the trailer drags along behind you. The trees have begun to thin out on the road, and more shopping centers pop up than you’ve seen this whole trip. It’s the how you know you’re getting closer, that and the map on Logan’s thigh. You steal glances at it because he refused to let you help him navigate. 

Besides the occasional ask for a bathroom break and refuted offer of switching drivers, the four-hour road trip has been quiet. You tried to turn the radio on earlier but he’d shut it off nearly immediately. He claimed that the pop shit they play makes his ears ring. 

You were almost tempted to turn it up to full volume if only to torture him a little bit. 

Logan’s rough voice jars you out of your head, “I’m going to need to know your real name.”

You frown, brows furrowed in confusion. Had you still not given him your actual name? He’s always referred to you as Flux, but you just assumed that’s because he didn’t want you to be an actual person in his eyes. It’s easier to hate someone if you can distance yourself from the idea of them having actual feelings. Still, you can’t believe he never asked someone for it. 

It just shows you how little he cares for you. Reluctantly, you give it to him. He hums, something pensive pinching at his face. “What?” You snap, waiting for him to insult you. 

He just shrugs, “It’s pretty,” he mutters, so quiet you almost don’t hear him. You don’t even know how to respond to that, so caught off guard by a genuine compliment that you just choose to ignore it. You doubt he meant it, anyway. He might think the name is pretty, but he doesn’t hold the same opinion of the person connected to it. 

You sink back into the silence, finding it more comforting than jarring now. You’d prefer the familiar feeling of him ignoring you than the abrupt turn in character. He glances over at you, something like regret on his face as he sighs. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t say anything else. Instead, in what feels like an extension of an olive branch, he turns the radio back on. He keeps the volume low, so it doesn’t bother him so much. But at least there’s something to listen to besides your breathing. 

You turn back towards the window, a white sign surrounded by daises coming up as Logan slows the truck down. He flicks on his turn signal, pulling up to Storybrook Walk. He stops in front of a large wrought iron gate and jumps out of the truck. He runs up to a black metal box, flipping the lid open and typing in the code Charles gave you both. As he gets back in the truck, the gate swings open widely. 

You pull your rings out of your pocket and slip yours on. “Here,” you urge, holding Logan’s ring out to him. He huffs, glaring down at it before snatching it out of your hand. He balances his hands atop the wheel, slipping the ring on his left hand. 

The neighborhood is picture-perfect suburbia. The lawns are bright green and manicured to perfection. You can hear children laughing as they play in their backyards and draw out a hopscotch grid on the sidewalk. Women and men who look like they’re straight from the fifties stop on the sidewalk and wave as you drive through the gated community. 

You mouth the numbers on the mailboxes to yourself, sitting up straighter when you’re one house away from your new home for the next few weeks. “Hey,” you frown, noticing a large congregation of people in the driveway of 1220. “This is our house isn’t it?”

Logan frowns, stopping the truck just before pulling in so he doesn’t hit anyway. “Supposed to be.” He glares at the people suspiciously, “Stay here, alright?”

You nod, watching him as he jumps out and rounds the front of the truck. You roll your window down, fingers dancing along the metal of your cuffs. There’s no way you’ve been found out before you’ve even gotten a chance to investigate. 

“Hey!” Logan’s voice is scary on a good day, but when he feels threatened, it’s enough to frighten a grown man. You can see the people flinch slightly away from him. That’s when you spot the wrapped cookies in a blonde woman’s hand and see children hiding with balloons on the porch. 

“Oh, fuck,” you mutter. You throw the door open, racing after Logan before he does something stupid. “Howdy neighbors!” You shout, speaking over him before he gets a chance to say anything else. You rush up to Logan’s side, nearly out of breath in your haste to get to him. “Is this our welcoming committee?”

You glare up at him and his eyes narrow as he sees the same thing you did. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath. 

“Smile and wave,” you whisper through gritted teeth. His lips peel up into something terrifying and it takes everything in you not to flinch back. “What the fuck is that?” You mutter.

“A smile,” he hisses, glaring down at you in irritation. 

A blonde woman steps forward before you can continue your hushed argument. “Welcome!” She calls out in a heavy southern accent, throwing her arms open with a bright smile. She walks as fast as she can in her tight skirt and kitten heels, coming over to embrace you, the casserole in her hand balancing precariously behind you. 

She tugs Logan down into a hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek and staining the skin red. “Surprise!” The kids on the porch jump out with balloons and flowers and she winces. 

“A bit late on the delivery,” she waves it off with a faux chuckle. “But we don’t mind ‘cause they’re so darn cute.” She is very… loud. There’s something about her that is meant to be charming but puts you on edge. She’s got all the familiar characteristics of a woman you’d love to be around, but she’s executing it like someone playing a character. “Shiela,” she holds out her hand, perfectly manicured nails shining bright red. 

You take her hand introducing yourself, “And this is my husband, Logan. Forgive him for his tone, we had an accident on the highway earlier. We’re still a little on edge.”

“Oh no,” she gasps, pressing her nails to her chest and even that seems plastic. “What happened?”

Years of bullshitting your way through school presentations are finally coming in handy.  You think quickly on your feet, something these people would despise. You need something that endears you to them, “Tire blew out and someone tried to raid the trailer while we were fixing it.”

She lets out a disapproving hum and the throng of people behind her echoes it with disturbing harmony.  You find yourself leaning closer towards Logan, feeling like you need to defend yourself against them. You know they’re only an overzealous HOA committee, but there is something uncanny about them. 

Sensing your discomfort, Logan wraps his arm around your shoulder, tugging you into his side. You have to school your features into one of neutrality. You’re supposed to be newlyweds, this is normal behavior for you. His touch feels like ice water being tossed over you, though. His willing embrace makes your head swim with distaste and skepticism. 

“Well,” a man steps forward. He’s conventionally handsome, with brown hair cropped short, slight stubble on his cheeks, slacks, and a button-up that he fills out nicely. His smile, however, stretches too wide and shows too many teeth. A shiver crawls up your spine as he places his hand on Shiela’s shoulder. “You won’t have to worry about people like that here, that’s for sure. John,” he offers his hand to Logan, bypassing you completely. “Head of the HOA here at Storybrook.”

“Nice to meet you, John” Logan falls just short of sincere. He towers slightly over John and you can see that he’s squeezing his hand just a bit too tight by the wince of Jouhn’s face. You dig your elbow into his side and he drops his hand immediately. 

Your gaze drifts over their shoulders and your stomach drops. The people behind them all hold dishes full of food and gift baskets. Their smiles are pinned to their faces, never once flinching out of place. There’s no joy in their eyes, though. They’re glazed over like they’re a million miles away. You would think they were mannequins before you even considered them human. 

“Long drive?” Shiela asks, your eyes dart back to hers only to find her intense stare already wholly focused on you. 

“Yeah,” you answer, clearing your throat of the panic rising in it. “We’re gonna have a fun time unloading this,” you laugh humorlessly, motioning towards the trailer.

She waves her hands in dismissal. “Don’t you worry about that, hun. That’s what neighbors are for after all.” She looks behind her, snapping her fingers a few times. The other’s start going towards the trailer and you feel Logan tense under your touch. 

A kid reaches it first, they manage to unlock it before you shout, “No!” It’s too loud, echoing through the street and making you clench your eyes shut in embarrassment. You turn back towards Shiela and John, both of them wearing shocked expressions. You chuckle awkwardly, “There’s just a lot of family heirlooms. I don’t want to risk them being damaged.” There are no heirlooms, just empty boxes and surveillance equipment that you'll have no chance of explaining away.

Shiela purses her lips into a tight smile, eyes turned to slits as she nods. “Of course,” you know she doesn’t believe you for a second. “Well then, we’ll just take all this inside.” She snaps and the others take their casseroles and gifts and begin flooding towards your front door. Shiela and John walk behind them, herding them all into a straight line. 

You let go of Logan immediately, glaring at the door of your home. Shiela holds a key in her hand, unlocking it and letting everyone inside. You scoff and shake your head in disbelief. “What the actual fuck?” You hiss. 

Logan just shakes his head. “Fucking bizarre, what the hell is wrong with these people?” He starts back towards the truck and you follow him. “I almost prefer the welcoming committee at the manor.”

You roll your eyes, “I was your welcoming committee,” you grouse. 

He shrugs, “I know.” You swat lightly at his shoulder and relatch the trailer’s lock. You linger by the mailbox as Logan pulls the truck into the driveway. He’s getting out just as the others finally leave your house. 

Shiela walks back towards you and you gesture towards the keyring in her hand. “Got a key to my house?” You play it off as a joke but it’s incredibly disturbing to know she could walk in at any minute. 

“Of course,” she smiles and shrugs it off like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “For the safety of everyone here.” Her smile drops and she takes an imposing step towards you, “Inspections are every Wednesday at noon.” Your jaw drops in astonishment and you choke on your words. She cackles loudly, face breaking out into a smile once more. “I’m just kidding, honey! God, your face, you’re too gullible, sweetheart.”

You force out a chuckle, smiling as much as you can force. “Of course, silly me,” you barely make it sound believable. This is going to be much harder than you thought. 

“Well,” John comes up behind her, guiding her away from you. “We’ll get out of your hair now. Welcome, neighbors!” The others around them all call out a Welcome as they drift across your lawn and head back to their own homes. 

Logan walks up to your side, the both of you keeping stilted smiles on your faces, waiting for them to just go away. But they pause at their doors, in almost perfect synchronization they turn and wave at you both. You back further into Logan’s chest and his grip on you tightens. 

“What. The. Fuck.” They step through their homes at the same moment and you feel sick to your stomach. There is something seriously wrong here, you’re not sure you want to find out the truth of it. 

You leave Logan to unload the trailer while you unpack the boxes. You’re forced to do it all by hand while the front door is open. You can’t risk someone stopping by for a visit and seeing you float the couch through the middle of the living room. You’re stumped on how to set up the surveillance equipment. Shiela doesn’t seem like the type to understand boundaries when it comes to popping by for a visit. 

You’re just going to have to keep most of it upstairs and set up some cameras on the porch. You don’t doubt that she’ll abuse that key of hers as she sees fit. You can’t imagine how anyone could stand living in this neighborhood. Having no privacy seems like a nightmare. Especially when the commander of the HOA is John and Shiela. They seem like the type to fine you over a rosebush. 

Logan grunts, dragging in the couch. He pushes it through the doorway and kicks the door closed behind him. The second it’s closed he drops the act and picks the couch up with one hand. “Where do you want it?” 

You point towards the back wall of the living room and he drops it with a small groan. “We’re going to need to put cameras out on the porch,” you inform him, still digging through the box. He walks behind you, heading for the fridge and digging around in it. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. You look up, watching as he tosses aside casserole after casserole. “They didn’t bring any beer?”

You laugh a little and get up, heading towards the cooler you’d packed. “They don’t seem the type.” You lean over, digging around through the melted ice until your fingers brush against cool glass. You straighten up, sending him a coquettish smile. “Want a beer after all that hard work, darling?” You taunt, playing the perfect housewife. 

He scoffs and holds his hand out, snatching it from the air as you toss it at him. He pulls the cap off with his teeth, spitting it out into the sink. “And a sandwich while you’re at it,” he demands roughly. 

If you weren’t a connoisseur of dry humor, you wouldn’t have recognized the joke for what it was. Still, you’re almost too shocked he even bothered to play along with you to laugh. Almost, you can’t help the slight chuckle that slips out.  

He throws himself on the couch, taking a deep swig from the bottle, and the moment feels remarkably domestic. You suppose that it should. That is the whole reason you’re here after all. But you hadn’t expected even a singular pleasant moment with Logan. 

This, playful banter and a shared joke, that’s all you could ever want from him. You would settle for this if it was all he was willing to give you. But he can’t even grant you that. This is one outlier in a long list of rude remarks and dismissive behavior. You can’t let yourself be so easily swayed. 

“I might try and get some cameras on the other houses,” Logan remarks from the couch. He kicks his feet on the coffee table and you click your tongue at him, motioning towards his shoes. With an aggrieved sigh, he undoes the laces of his boots and kicks them off. You glare at the dirt that flings across the carpet but a quick wave of your hand makes it disappear. 

“Don’t bother with the cameras. They’ve all got security.” You turn away from the box you’re unpacking with a pensive frown. “They’re all covered by the same company, too. All of them. Isn’t that weird?”

He scoffs and shrugs. “Anywhere else, yeah. But I’m pretty sure they piss at the same time here.” Your nose wrinkles at his crude words and you roll your eyes. 

“Take this seriously.”

He huffs out a laugh, “I am. Didn’t you see them earlier? They only breathe because Shiela lets them.” You take a seat at the kitchen table, uncomfortable attempting to take a spot on the couch. He sighs when he sees the expression on your face, finally dropping the dismissive attitude. “I’ll just be smart about how I set up our cameras, alright?”

You just nod, reaching for the box of your essentials on the table. It’s strange to be sitting beside him, talking to him. You’ve never gotten more than two words out of him. This is so far out of your normal comfort zone that you feel like you’re crawling out of your skin trying to escape. 

“I’m going to go to bed,” you announce awkwardly, shooting up from your seat at the table. 

The beer pauses halfway to his lips and he gives you an odd look. “Okay?” He responds slowly, not sure why you’re telling him this. You open your mouth, and almost tell him to have a good night, but change your mind at the last second. 

You move towards the bedroom near the front door, “Flux,” you turn slightly and he shakes his head. “Take the one upstairs.”

Your brows furrow, “Why?” You demand, an attitude edging its way into your voice. 

“So if Shiela busts down our door I can protect us,” you know he’s teasing, but the sentiment is nice. “And so I don’t have to set up the surveillance shit upstairs,” your face drops and you roll your eyes. There it is. 

“Dick,” you mutter, storming towards the stairs, your boxes hovering along behind you. His laughter follows you up the stairs, even when you slam the door shut. Although, when you take in the room, you can’t find it in yourself to complain for a second about it. 

While Logan is screwed with the teeny guest room downstairs, you get the largest bedroom you’ve ever been in all to yourself. The closet could practically be another bedroom. The bath is more like a jacuzzi than it is a tub.

A four-poster bed sits against the wall, the fluffiest comforter ever becoming you forth like a siren. There’s even a table in the middle of the room, with a chair, perfect for setting up as your desk. 

You scoff in astonishment, “Oh, I could get used to this.” You place your boxes on the table and start pulling out your clothes. You toss yourself on the bed, bouncing against the sheets, and throw pillows go flying everywhere. You flick your wrist, all your essentials flying out of the boxes and sorting themselves out. 

After a luxurious soak in the tub, you’re spread out along the bed, the limited information from Charles's file spread out before you. There are only a few blurry pictures of the neighborhood and a typed-up page of everything he’s heard about Sotrybrook. There’s nothing even remotely useful here. 

You sigh, tossing the file to the floor and looking out the large window of your room. You’ve got a camera placed on the sill, programmed to take a picture anytime there’s movement. You doubt you’re going to get much from that. The secrets of this place seem to be buried deep. You’re gonna have to get real friendly with your neighbors if you want to get out of here fast. 

Logan is on the computer, trying to sync all of the cameras up. You clean up the dishes from breakfast and tidy up the kitchen. You’re trying to decide how you should start investigating when there’s a dainty knock on the door. 

Your brows furrow and you peer around the cupboards to look at the door. Logan’s head lifts and he shares an odd look with you. He gets up from the couch and glances through the peephole. 

You drop the towel on the counter and frown as his shoulders slump forward. Something pinched appears on his face and he sighs. “What?” You hiss at him.

He turns and glares at you, “You’ll see.” You shake your head in confusion as he throws the door open. 

His attitude makes a lot more sense when you hear a very happy, “Howdy!” Shiela stands in your doorframe, three women hovering behind her. At least they look awake, unlike the people from last night. A redhead with the most gorgeous waves you’ve ever seen holds beach towels in her arms. A brunette with flawless brown skin carries a jug of lemonade. And a woman with black hair and a perfect figure is carrying a plate of cookies. 

All of these women are wearing bathing suits that look like they’ve been snatched out of a fashion magazine from the sixties. Each of them is gorgeous, alarmingly so. They’re beautiful to the point of being flawless. As you walk out of the kitchen and take a step closer, Shiela welcomes herself into your home. 

You don’t even think you see pores on their faces. Each of them offers you the same practiced smile that you force yourself to return. “How are you settling in?” Shiela demands, not asks. 

“Um,” you look to Logan for help but he’s just as perplexed as you are. “Just fine, Shiela, thanks. What are you all doing?”

The redhead rolls her eyes playfully, “Tanning, sweetheart.” She glances at Logan expectantly and he grabs his duffel from by the couch. 

“I think that’s my cue,” he falls easily into the role of a playful husband. But you don’t need him to play along right now. You need him to stay where the fuck he is so you’re not alone with the barbies. 

“Ha ha, don’t go,” you whisper, trying to grab at his sleeve. “Logan,” you hiss, making sure the others can’t hear you as they look around your home. “Don’t do this.”

He dips his head down, and for one stupid moment, you think he might kiss you. “Good luck,” he whispers in your ear, backing off with a smug smirk and letting himself out of the house. 

Oh, you’re going to fucking kill him. 

“Finally,” the brunette breathes out a relieved breath, “I thought he’d never leave.”

Shiela chuckles, “You’re lucky honey. It took us a long while to have ours so well trained.” She motions to the other girls, “This is Madge,” the redhead smiles and gives a cute wave. She introduces the rest quickly and you file the information away for later when you’re writing your report. 

Madge- husband is the vendor consultant for the HOA. 

Sierra - brunette - husband is secretary of the HOA. 

Kimiko - black hair - no husband. 

Your brows furrow in confusion as Kimiko nods in greeting. You return it, suspicions running thick in your blood. It’s odd, that their husbands are in charge of the HOA, you figured they would be. Beyond that, the emphasis they put on it is astonishing. You really didn’t think the HOA was so important but it’s practically the government here. And the women only seem to hold importance if their husbands do. Shiela is essentially their leader, she’s the one you need to impress.

This whole thing seems incredibly backward and like a blast from the past. The way they style their hair, do their makeup, dress- it's all fashioned after the fifties and sixties. You feel incredibly out of place in your worn-down pajamas and frizzy braids. 

“We’re not really tanning,” Madge tells you. “This is just a way for us ladies to get to know the new kid in the neighborhood and tell you everything you need to know,” she leans in, smiling like she’s sharing a conspiratorial secret with you. 

“Don’t let Madge scare you,” Sierra shoots her a glare. “It’s not that big of a deal, it’s just a way for us to escape our husbands for an hour.”

“Well,” you chuckle awkwardly, crossing your arms over your chest as you grow uncomfortable under their tense stares. It feels like their eyes are peeling back your skin, exposing everything underneath as they judge every nook and cranny of your soul. “I haven’t reached that stage yet.”

Shiela’s smile loses some of its humor and she scoffs. “You will,” she assures you, acrid bitterness coating her words. “Give it a few years,” she gives you a bitchy and all-knowing smirk. Your hackles raise, the urge to defend your sham of a marriage rising quickly in you. You bite your tongue, swallowing down your smart retort before you say something you regret. 

You’re not even married to Logan, but you don’t like her butting her nose so far into your business. “Sadly, I don’t have a bathing suit.”

“Oh,” Kimiko gives you a blank smile, “We brought you one.” Madge moves the towels aside to reveal a two-piece that matches their own. In your size. 

Your cheeks ache with a forced smile as you take the bathing suit from them. “We’ll just set up out back,” Shiela lets you know. She turns to the others with a beaming smile, “Come on ladies.” They follow after her like ducklings, and when you look down you see each of their steps are in sync. 

You wait until the back door closes to rush to the front. You throw the door open and Logan jumps from where he’s drilling the camera into the side of the house. “I’m gonna fucking kill you,” you warn.

He chuckles and smirks, “Don’t keep ‘em waiting too long, sweetheart,” he mocks and you slam the door closed with a loud scoff. He was enjoying your suffering far too much, but you shouldn’t be surprised. You’re sure he’s just been waiting for a moment like this. 

You change into the bathing suit and take a deep calming breath. You can do this. You can play pretend for a few hours. 

You wished you’d known being an actor was a part of the job description before you joined the X-Men.

You lay on your stomach along the soft beach towel that Madge brought. The sun isn’t too hot on you, but you also bent the tree behind you to provide a bit more shade when the others weren’t looking. So far, you’ve collected nothing but mindless gossip. 

Sam never takes in his trash cans on time. Alicia has been getting a little too cozy with the gardener. Some couple you didn’t pay attention to is expecting a kid. You’re struggling to pay attention to all the mindless drivel. 

Usually, you wouldn’t mind a little gossip, but none of this feels real. Their words are hollow, smiles empty. Everything they say sounds like they’re reading it from a script. The only person you actually believe cares about any of this bullshit is Shiela. The rest of them seem to just play along, not meaning a word they say. 

You’re gaining nothing useful from this. There’s no information you’ve gotten during this conversation that could remotely help you. All you want to do is go out front and strangle Logan for abandoning you. 

The only good thing about all this is the lemonade and cookies. Which, you admit, you may have indulged yourself a little too much. But at this point, you’re just eating to stay awake. You reach for another cookie and Shiela lets out a dainty huff. 

“I wish I could eat like you,” she laughs and you prepare yourself for the most backhanded insult you’ve ever heard. “But I have to be so careful about watching my figure. Wouldn’t want to lose my waist,” she titters and the other women giggle. 

You toss the cookie back on the plate, rolling your eyes. It feels like you’re right back in high school. You love this, this is great. At this point, you’re just trying to stop yourself from tossing them all out. 

The backdoor slides open and Logan peeks his head out. The women wave and Shiela calls out a sultry, “Hey, Lo.”

Your jaw drops and you can’t help but scoff as you tilt your head to give her an astonished stare. This woman has absolutely zero shame. She’s not even hiding the way she’s ogling him. She’s literally biting her lip. 

You clench your eyes shut, taking a deep breath. There it is, the end of your rope. “Sweetheart, you gonna be done soon?” Logan calls out and you can’t help but smile at the immense satisfaction you feel when Shiela’s face falls. You shouldn’t take so much joy in Logan ignoring her, you know that’s just how he is. But she doesn’t. 

“I think so, hon.” You sit up on your knees, clapping your hands and pretending to be upset. “Sorry, girls, I think I’m needed back in the house.” You get to your feet and pick your towel up. As you do, you flick your fingers, and the lemonade tumbles over, spilling all over Shiela’s pristine white bathing suit. 

She jumps up with a shrill scream, shaking her arms off at the ice-cold liquid and desperately trying to wipe off her bathing suit. Madge and Sierra flock to her and you roll your eyes at how dramatic she’s being. 

Out of the side of your eye, you see someone watching you. You turn slightly, startling when you see the intense glare Kimiko’s sporting. It’s the first genuine emotion you’ve seen from her, but even this seems cold. Her dark eyes are bottomless pits of frigid rage. You find that you can’t look away from her, swaying slightly as her eyes beckon you forward. 

You need to go to her, speak with her, be with her. You need-

Your mind falls short of what you need. But you know Kimko will give it to you. Sierra and Madge both straighten up, both blank-faced as you take a step forward. 

Logan hollers your name again and you jump, shaking your head and breaking whatever trance you’d fallen in. When you look back, all three of them are still fussing over Shiela. You glance to Logan, to see if he saw what had happened. 

His brows are furrowed, face pinched in concern as he looks at you. You think you might have just found Charles’ interference. 

“I think we should look into Kimiko,” you scroll through the list of residents you’d managed to hack into. You’ve been on the computer for hours, trying to find any information bout her at all. Even when you ran a background check, nothing came up. If that doesn’t scream mutant, you don’t know what does. 

Logan walks over to the table with a steaming pan in his hand. You tug your computer glasses off and slide the laptop to the side. He pours some pasta onto your plate and hands you a glass of water. “Thank you,” he gives you a tense almost-smile and nods. 

“Figure out where she lives?” He asks, bringing his own plate to the table. You shake your head and rub your temples, trying to fend off the headache you can already feel forming. You should have taken a break from the research. You can’t stand staring at screens for as long as you did. 

“She’s not even a registered resident.”

“Well,” he sighs and shrugs, “at least we know this wasn’t a waste of time.” You nod in acquiesce and take a bite of your food. Your eyes widen in shock and he laughs at the look on your face. “Didn’t think I could cook?”

You shake your head and smile. “I took you as the type to pour beer in your cereal. But this is,” you stumble over your word. You’re afraid of being too nice to him. You’ve reached a sort of impasse, where you’re not openly hostile, but you’re not exactly friendly. You feel like if you do too much, too fast, he’s gonna be closed off again. “It’s really good.”

He purses his lips and nods, dragging his fork along the porcelain plate. The noise grates on you and only further aggravates the growing headache but you don’t snap at him. You swallow down the frustration and just shovel more pasta into your mouth. 

“This, uh,” Logan takes in a deep breath and lets all out in one gravely exhale. You give him an expectant look and he shrugs. “It hasn’t been as bad as I thought.” He tells you flippantly. 

You narrow your eyes at him, “Is that supposed to be a compliment?” You demand with a firm tone, placing your fork down and leaning back in your chair. 

He lets out an annoyed sigh, “It was just an observation.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. He’s fucking ridiculous. “You know, maybe if you ever tried to get to know me, you wouldn’t have had such a horrible opinion about me.” You try and eat more but the food just tastes like ash in your mouth. You grow antsy, not wanting to sit near him anymore. 

You’re surprised that he’s the one who fucked up the peace. You really thought it would be you. But something about what he said is rubbing you the wrong way. Of course, it hasn’t been bad, you’re not a bad person. He just decided he hated you one day and he’s so goddamned stubborn he never considered anything else being the truth. 

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he defends, watching with a confused expression as you get up and drop your plate loudly in the sink. 

“You know,” you ignore his weak defense, leaning on the sink. You grip the rim of it tightly, sucking in a deep breath to try and keep yourself calm. “You didn’t even know my fucking name,” you mutter under your breath, shaking your head to yourself. Why are you even bothering with him? You’ll never win and you don’t even know if you want him to change his opinion about you. 

He’s been a dick for so long that you’re not sure you’re even interested in being friends, let alone anything beyond that. 

“Well,” he takes an angered tone as you continue to deflect his attempts at restoring the peace. “It’s not like you told me. You just go by your X-Men name, how was I supposed to know better?”

“By fucking asking!” You shout, whirling around on him, nearly ramming into his chest. You hadn’t realized how close he’d gotten while you’d had your back to him. “If you had, ever, at any fucking point tried to get to know me, you wouldn’t be so surprised that I’m nice. I’m a nice person to be around, Logan. And for some reason I tried to change myself, to make you happy. And it never even worked!” You scoff, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in your throat that you quickly swallow down. You shove past him, escaping the corner he’s backed you into. “Your head is so far up your ass that you didn’t even try to know me before you decided you hated me.”

“What?” He scoffs and glares at you. “I don’t fucking hate you. When have I ever said that? And I never wanted you to change.” He keeps focusing on the wrong things. How he feels about you doesn’t matter, it’s how he treated you. 

“Never, you’ve never said that because you’ve never said more than two words to me. This,” you motion between the two of you, “is the longest conversation we’ve ever had.” A sudden exhaustion settles over you, it weighs heavy on your bones and drapes across you like a blanket. 

You don’t have the energy for this. For him. You don’t want to keep defending yourself to someone who couldn’t care less. There’s no winning with him. He will never listen to you, he’ll just offer half-assed excuses that he thinks absolve him of how horribly he’s treated you. 

He calls your name as you slump into the dining room chair. Your real name, not your X-Men name. “I never hated you,” he tells you, voice soft, but the conviction is strong. 

You stand up, unable to make eye contact with him. “Goodnight, Logan.” You walk up the stairs quietly, never once looking at him. You can’t stand to face him. As much as you’ve tried to bury how you feel about him, it’s still there. 

Being with him like this, having his ring on your finger, it’s a stab in the gut over and over and over. Someone’s taken your most ridiculous and romantic fantasies and turned them into a waking nightmare. You wake up to him every day, eat at the same table, share the same house, and you two couldn’t be further apart. 

You have to keep up appearances, Logan is sure that’s the only reason you’ve joined him this morning. He’s working on the truck while you kneel on a foam pad, planting a rose bush by the mailbox. But the way you’re stabbing the shovel into the ground it looks more like murder than it does gardening. You slam the little trowel into the dirt, lips pulled back like a wild animal as dirt flies up around your hair. 

Logan turns back to the truck, letting out a low whistle under his breath. Besides the insane display of shrubbery abuse, you blend into the neighborhood better than he ever could. You fit that perfect suburban aesthetic, sun hat, cat-eye sunglasses, and a pretty dress. 

You’re good at blending in, better than he ever was. He’s heard you joking about it before. Telling Jean your hidden mutant ability is learning to be a chameleon, fitting yourself wherever you are. He thinks it’s a cute idea, and not too far from the truth. 

He only wishes he were a little more like that. He sticks out like a sore thumb with his wifebeater, fraying jeans, and general countenance of misery. He can’t force a smile when John walks by with a shitty joke. He’s not like you. You stomach all of the women’s vapid nonsense with a smile and manage to seem so unaffected by it all. 

The only time he’s seen you break was last night. And that, of course, had been his fault. He wishes he was better with his words. He’s always been an action man, but clearly, he’s fucked that up with you too. He really did mean it as a compliment. 

He’s just incapable of talking without his foot in his mouth when it comes to you. It’s why he tends to just avoid you and stay quiet. He knows he’ll mess up with you eventually. In the rare chance you ever actually give him a second look, he’d be a shitty boyfriend. And even if you were just friends, he’d still fuck up somehow. He always does. 

He’s learned it’s better to just keep a distance between himself and others. Especially you. He’s always just wanted to keep you away from his bullshit. The haunted past he still knows so little about, all the mental baggage he carries, he never wanted to burden you with it. Even though it seems like he still managed to screw up somehow. 

Even when he’s trying to be good he’s still the bad guy. 

You let out a heavy sigh and his gaze drifts back towards you. The way it always seems to do. You’re his sun, bright, beaming, a golden beacon of hope. But he’s always just too far, eclipsing the light you might bring him with his own stupidity. 

You toss the trowel to the ground and stand up. You frown, brushing off all the dirt you’re absolutely caked in. When he peers around you and glances at the spot where the rose bush is supposed to be all he sees is a crater of earth and ripped up grass. He figures it's better not to mention it. 

You walk over to him, the same scowl you’ve had for the past few days ever-present on your face. “I’m going to take a shower,” you look at him expectantly and he shrugs. You let out a loud sigh and he can’t possibly imagine how he’s messed up now. “You need one too, the barbecues in an hour.”

He’d forgotten about the fucking barbecue. Some annual thing Shiela and John threw that the whole neighborhood went to. “It doesn’t take me an hour to get ready,” he tells you, intending a little bit of playfulness. 

Instead, you just let out an exasperated breath and storm back into the house. How did he keep fucking up with you so badly?

He’s gotten a taste of your personality, your company. He’s tried for so long to avoid getting to know you. He knows that if he truly did, he’d never get over you. He was right. Just one taste of you and he wants more, he wants to consume everything about you that he can. He’s screwed up in so many ways but he can’t just go back to normal after this and act like strangers. 

You smooth the wrinkles out of your cotton dress and let out a low breath. “You need another minute?” Logan grumps from beside you, his stare boring into the door. He didn’t want to come to this. Frankly, neither did you, but he needs to suck it up and be a big boy. You two are here for a purpose greater than yourselves. 

Maybe if you repeat that enough times you’ll start to believe it. 

Kimiko was everywhere that Shiela was. She was her shadow, her loyalist servant. And the only person in this neighborhood who’s shown a sliver of consciousness. You don’t know where she lives, or if she even owns a house here. But you do know she’ll be at this barbecue tonight. 

The only reason you’re bothering to bring Logan along is because you need him to distract Shiela. She drools every time she sees him, practically licking her maw at the sight of him in a tight t-shirt. You can’t really blame her, but she’s a married woman and he’s technically a married man. The lack of shame and compassion is genuinely astonishing to you. 

“No. Let’s just get this over with.” He needs no further prompting as he knocks heavily on the door. Each pound of his fist sounds like a bell tolling your doom. The intense feeling of nausea and eyes on the back of your head has developed and grown increasingly worse the longer you’re here. 

You feel like someone’s pressing against your mind, wiggling their fingers in and squeezing until mush slips through their knuckles. You keep a tight grip on Logan so you don’t tip over. Playing it off as the love-sick newlyweds you’re meant to be. 

Even though the feeling of his skin against yours makes you angrier than you can even begin to fathom. You’ve held onto built-up resentment and anger ever since your little tiff. You’ve heard that tumultuous times are common in the beginnings of marriages. Luckily, you’re getting a divorce the second this fucking mission is over. 

You resent Charles for ever sending you here. Any minuscule hopes you’ve had of finally building a relationship with Logan have been dashed across your front yard. There’s no hope for him. He’ll never change, and how he treats you will never change. 

The door swings open and the music from the backyard drifts through to the front. Shiela smiles widely, greeting you both with a drawn-out Hi! She reaches forward and grabs Logan, tugging him away from you and dragging him into a hug. 

You stumble forward as your support is ripped out from under you. She briefly glances over his shoulder at you and you offer her a sardonic smile. Every bit of you wants to dig your nails into her and rip until chunks of her start flying off. The post beside you warps slightly, bending like it’s melting. 

You dig your nails into your palm, swallowing down your anger, and force the post upright once more. Logan grabs Shiela by the waist, practically yanking her off of him. He steps back towards you, wrapping his arm around your waist. 

You can’t help the smug smile that lifts your lips as you face her. You almost want to rub her face in it. He chose you and he can’t stand you, that says a lot about how he feels about her. You stop yourself, though, it’d be beyond idiotic to let that be the reason your cover is blown. 

“Thanks for inviting us,” you tell Shiela, playing oblivious instead of walking into her trap. You pass her the casserole you half-assed and baked in her dish. “We’re so excited to finally have a home to call our own, and with such wonderful neighbors,” you gasp dreamily. “Oh, it’s just a dream come true.”

Shiela runs a manicured nail along the side of her lip, looking wholly unimpressed. “Mhm,” she hums, “I’m sure.” You share a look with Logan, both of you caught off guard by her sudden dip in personality. Her face is blank, devoid of the usual overwrought happiness and charm. It’s like something’s taken control and drained the life from her. 

Either Kimiko’s here and you’re right about her, or, Shiela is just a depressed housewife who can’t always control when she smiles. You’re hoping it’s Kimiko and you can just end this once and for all. 

“Alright,” she’s back in a second like nothing ever happened. The boom of her voice echoing through the foyer makes you jump. “Let’s get you two outside. And thank you so much for this,” she gestures to the casserole. “You’re just such a sweet little thing aren’t you?”

Everything she says to you feels just a tad patronizing. She’s incapable of complimenting you without minimizing you in some way. You dismiss it, shaking off the funk she always seems to put you in. 

Shiela leads you to the backdoor of her porch where the rest of the neighborhood is. She certainly got the best square footage, that’s for sure. She doesn’t just have the biggest house, she’s also got the biggest yard you’ve ever stepped foot on. 

People are milling about, John’s flipping hamburgers on the grill, and children are playing happily with one another. It feels like an advert for the Fourth of July.

You scan the yard for the only person you’re looking for. You spot her, pushed back towards the shadow of Shiela’s oak tree. Shiela follows your gaze with a frown and scoffs. “I know, hideous isn’t it?”

You jump, startled out of your stupor. “Sorry?”

She points towards the tree. “I wanted to get rid of it, but apparently it’s historic,” she throws up air quotes, inflecting her voice lazily, “or something stupid.”

“Oh, right,” you nod dismissively and she shrugs, hands slapping against her thighs as she nods to her yard. 

“Well, go on, socialize, make yourself at home y’all.” She walks back into the house and you glance back at the yard. 

“Shit,” you hiss, “Kimiko’s gone.” You move away from Logan and take a step down the stairs, he begins to follow you but you stop him with a firm hand to his chest. He frowns down at you and you nod towards Shiela. “I need you playing interception. Those two are attached at the hip. The only thing that’s going to distract her is the hunk of meat she’s been drooling over.” 

Logan frowns and takes a step back. He sets his face and crosses his arms and you sigh, knowing exactly what he’s about to say. “No.” He tells you firmly, not even bothering to hear you out. 

“Well,” you shrug. “Too bad, I need you to do this or we’re never getting out of here.”

He mocks your shrug and nods, “Alright. Fine.” He leans into your space and you feel like you’re being scolded, “I’m not leaving you on your own, okay? And I’m not letting you go after Kimiko alone.”

“I’m not going after her,” you glance around, making sure no one is listening to you talk about their neighbor like she’s on a hit list. “I just need one interrupted conversation with her. Just one,” you’re practically pleading with him at this point. 

You feel pathetic. You’re a grown woman and an X-Men. You shouldn’t have to be bartering with Logan. He should just have some faith in your abilities to not only protect yourself but conduct yourself appropriately on a mission. 

His face screws up in irritation and you know he’s about to really cause a scene. He’ll start arguing with you, and blow your spot up just to get you out of here. You give him a placating smile, a real one because he’s somehow learned to tell the difference. “Logan, it’s only for an hour. I’m sure you can fend Shiela off,” you joke to try and lighten the mood.

He sucks in a deep breath and you know you’ve got him when his shoulders sink in defeat. “Fine. I’m only agreeing to this because you’re practically a chameleon with this shit,” he gestures vaguely to the barbecue and your face pinches with confusion. 

“What?” 

“I heard you talking about it with Jean one day. How you’re a chameleon when it comes to blending in with people.”

“Well, that wasn’t exactly a brag. It’s a method of survival, a way to make people like me. It gives me a fighting chance when they find out I’m a mutant.” God, why are you even talking about this? Why had he even been listening to your conversation with Jean?

He opens his mouth like he wants to say something but you don’t have time for that. “Look, Logan, just go find Shiela.” You walk away from him before he can drudge up more uncomfortable memories of high school. 

You manage to slip through the party relatively unnoticed. You didn’t see where Kimiko had disappeared to. You’re hoping there might be some sort of hint left where she had been. You rush towards the oak tree, using it as a way to scan the party for her again. From here you can’t see anything except the kitchen.  

You’ve got a perfect view of Logan trudging towards Shiela. You can’t help but laugh when she wraps her hand around his bicep, eagerly telling him something. You smile and shake your head, the audacity of this woman is amazing. 

Something catches your eye, right by your foot. Glancing down you see something silver glinting through the grass. Frowning, you kneel and scoop it up. It’s an oblong device, small, and fits in the palm of your hand. It’s curved oddly, and the lights on it start flashing bright red as you hold it.

“What the hell?” You flip it over, a warped mirrored reflection on the back of it. You just barely spot Kimiko’s twisted face in the reflection before the world goes black. 

You groan, slowly blinking the fog of a forced sleep out of your eyes. You reach to swipe at your face, but something is holding your wrists down. You jerk your arms a few times, struggling against whatever restraints are wrapped around you. When nothing happens, you instead focus on the feeling of it against your wrist, trying to get it to dissolve. 

“Don’t bother,” a cool voice calls out from the shadows. There’s one bright light shining down on you, like the type you might see above an operating table. The entire room feels sterile. And it’s cold, you can barely feel the tips of your toes or fingers. 

“What’d you do?” You demand, trying to sound intimidating but your words come out as a slur. The back of your head radiates pain and it takes everything in you just to keep your eyes open. 

“I developed a gas,” the voice circles the room, echoing across the curved walls. You hear footsteps but you can’t tell where they’re coming from. “It halts the neurons in a mutant’s brain that fire when they use their abilities. Temporary, but quite handy when I’m dealing with a mentalist like you.”

Kimiko steps out of the shadows like a bad comic book villain. Her face is blank, no expression on it, somehow, it’s the realest she’s ever looked before. Here, you can see her humanity. Pores across her nose, frizz and oil along her hair, her nose just a little bit crooked. Whatever she’d been doing to herself has been wiped away. And the human woman lurking beneath is finally revealed. 

“There you are,” you mutter, your speech slowly coming back to you. “I knew that plastic face wasn’t real.”

“Everything was going just fine until you and Wolverine got here,” she gives you a sharp look, “Flux.”

You sarcastically gasp, “Wow, you know my X-Men name. It’s not like I haven’t been interviewed before. What’s the plan here, Kimiko? Where are the others?”

Her brows pinch, “Others?”

“The mutants you’re trafficking.”

“Oh,” she laughs and it’s so jarring you nearly jump. “Is that what people think?” Hesitantly, you nod, but you’re beginning to feel like you might have gotten something very wrong. “No, that’s not what we’re doing here.”

“We?”

“Shiela and I. We have much simpler plans, much more peaceful. You see, Shiela’s the only person to ever stand beside me after she found out I was a mutant. She gave me a home, a friend, and a sense of belonging.” There’s something devout in her words, like a humble follower kneeling at the feet of their god. “Everything I have, everything I am, I owe to her.”

You’ve seen Shiela’s manipulation firsthand. You have no doubt that she’s never actually done anything for Kimiko. She’s just made her think she had and instilled in her this sense of owing her something. 

Then again, Kimiko’s getting this look on her face. She’s like a rabid dog staring down the barrel of their owner’s shotgun. Perhaps she hadn’t needed much prompting to develop such an unhealthy attachment. “Shiela’s parents never loved her the way they should have. They never gave her the perfect life she deserved. So I created one for her.”

She rolls a tray of surgical tools over and a sense of panic finally starts to rouse within you. Yet, for the first time in years, your powers aren’t here to help you. You have nothing to rely on but yourself. But you’ve been trained so intensively in using your abilities as a protector rather than an inhibitor that you’re practically useless without them. 

“All these people,” you rush the words out as she picks up a syringe. You don’t know what the yellow liquid inside is, but from the look on her face, you don’t want to. “You’re controlling them?”

Kimiko nods and you’d be staggering if you weren’t strapped down. Not even Charles could control this many people at once. Not without Cerebro. “Kimiko, that’s,” you gasp, flinching away as she brings the needle towards your arms. “It’s incredible!” Your quick rise in volume makes her jolt and the syringe tumbles out of her hands. 

She grumbles to herself, leaning over to pick it up. “Does Shiela know?” She pauses at the mention of Shiela’s name, brushing her hair over her shoulder and glaring at you. 

“Yes. Of course she does, this is my greatest gift to her.”

“Really?” Your voice drips with contrived empathy. “Then I’m sure she’s done something incredible for you back.” You were hoping a simple manipulation tactic might work, that you could turn Kimiko against an ungrateful Shiela. But this type of obsession isn’t one that can’t be destabilized with a few jumbled words. 

No, you only make her angrier. “Back? Back?” she practically screams, her voice raw and feral as she leaps into your face. You flinch as far back as you can as her face hovers over yours, screaming right at you. “I owe her everything! I should thank her for letting me breathe the same air as hers!”

Your jaw drops, a silent scream tripping out of your mouth as you gasp for air. Something squeezes against your brain, the pulsing from before returns with a vengeance. You can feel your mind pulsing and swelling, pushing against your skull. 

“Don’t fucking say her name again,” Kimiko glares down at you, her eyes devoid of any remorse or compassion as she makes your brain swell until blood leaks down your ears. Whatever plan she had before has been abandoned, she’s going to just kill you now. 

You’re going to die in her basement, no one will ever see you again. Your eyes throb and you feel your brain push to its fullest limits. The pressure builds, builds, and builds until it explodes. 

“Then you just pour a little sugar in.” Logan watches as Shiela tips nearly an entire bag of cane sugar into her jug of sweet tea. His stomach shrivels at the sight and he fights down bile. A little bit of sugar drops over the edge. She catches it on her finger and looks over her shoulder, licking the sugar off and practically deepthroating her own finger. All while maintaining a disturbing amount of eye contact with Logan. 

“Well,” he knows that he promised you a while with Kimiko, but he can’t handle much more of this. “Thank you so much for this,” he struggles with the word, landing weakly on, “lesson.” He’s not even sure what the point of watching her prepare all this food was. 

He’s pretty sure she just wanted him to see her leave a rim of red lipstick at the bottom of her finger as many times as possible. The entire time he’s just wanted to go back to you. There’s a nasty feeling gnawing at him and he knows he needs to get back to you soon. 

“Oh,” she seems genuinely disappointed and Logan sighs awkwardly. “Leaving already, huh?”

He points to his ring pointedly reminding her of the reality of their situation. “Gotta get back to the wife.”

She doesn’t even try to hide her sneer as he mentions you. “Of course, just the perfect husband aren’t you?”

Logan doesn’t dignify that with a response, too distracted by what’s happening outside the window. People have begun to wander around aimlessly, some of them stumbling into the fencing. They just keep walking forward, knocking into the wood repeatedly, not once stopping. John’s got a stuck smile on his face as he leans against the grill, Logan can see smoke rising from where the flesh of his palm is melting onto the metal. A few people all run into each other, collapsing on the ground and just lying there. 

They’re like robots, suddenly without command and unsure what to do. They’re following their programming without anyone putting a stop to it. Shiela follows his gaze and gasps. “Excuse me,” she mutters, practically running out of the room. 

Logan tries to find you amongst all the mess but you’re nowhere to be seen. “Fuck,” he growls out, looking back to where Shiela had run. He should have fucking known not to leave you on your own. 

He stalks after Shiela, listening to her racing heart and the slam of a downstairs door. He follows her down the steps leading to her basement. It looks the same as every other one he’s ever been in. Except, for the metal door hidden behind a few shelving units. The only reason he spots it is because Shiela knocked over a can of paint in her rush toward it. 

Anger brews hot and putrid in his gut. The claws come out unbidden, and the thought of you being locked away in that room pushes him forward. If you’re not in there, he’ll get an answer from Shiela one way or another. But he’s not going to let you get hurt because he didn’t have your back. 

“What the hell are you doing?” A shrill voice interrupts. Your head sinks back against the cool material of the table, brain surging back into place. Your teeth ache, white-hot pain rushing through your bones as Kimiko finally releases her grasp on you. 

Kimiko gives Shiela the look of a dog who just got in trouble. “She found my amplifying device. I have to get rid of her.” She holds the device you found earlier out to Shiela. 

So, she wasn’t as powerful as she pretended. She did need help. It explains why the entire neighborhood is always in the same area, she needs them close to keep control. “Whatever you’re doing is making my toys malfunction.”

Shiela hisses at Kimiko, she darts forward and slaps her hard across the back of the head. If you weren’t in excruciating and paralyzing pain, you’d flinch at the sound. Being as if your brain was just about to explode, though, you could give less of a shit if she beats her rabid dog up. 

These two crazy bitches deserve each other. You just want a Tylenol and a nap at this point. “Well, aren’t you two twisted sisters?” Logan slips through the door, his claws glinting under the light of the room. “Toys?” He demands, eyes roaming the room desperately. 

The second he sees you, strapped down and with blood pouring from your orifices, something slips over his face. It’s like a mask being ripped off. The man he pretends to be is ripped apart by the animal truly lurking within him. Neither women have time to even defend themselves. He goes for Kimiko first and all you see his claws plunging down before arterial blood sprays across your face. 

You groan, tilting your chin the other way and spitting the metallic liquid out of your mouth. There are a long few minutes of screaming, clothes shredding, and blood splashing against every surface of the room. By the time he’s completely calmed down, you’re drenched in it. 

You suck on your teeth, rolling your head limply and finally getting a good look at him. He’s panting, standing over their mutilated corpses with blood dripping down his claws. There’s a wrath on his face you’re happy to have never been on the other end of. But the second he looks at you, you see nothing but stark relief. 

He breathes out your name, your real one, and surges towards you. “Claws!” You shout, hurting your head again. But he was a second away from accidentally skewering you. They’re put away in an instant as he undoes the straps holding you down. 

You groan in relief as the pressure around your head and limbs is released. He perches himself on the edge of the table and scoops you into his chest.

You’re still loopy from Kimiko messing around in the grooves of your brain. The best you can manage is weakly draping your arms along his sides. He pulls you back and brushes the hair out of your face, laughing a little at the blood covering you. “They do anything to you?”

You shrug, “Besides turn my brain into a pressure cooker? No.”

The smile drops from his face and he glares down at the remains of the women. If you weren’t so tired, you’d think he wants to kill them again. “I should have been here.”

“Logan-” You want to tell him not to be ridiculous. You had insisted you could take care of yourself. Told him it would only be a conversation when you knew that was never going to be true. You’d gotten yourself into this, you were lucky he was there to get you out. But you don’t say anything because he interrupts you as he so often does. 

“I can’t keep acting like this is all okay. Like I’m happy with how we treat each other. I thought I was going to lose you, I’m not going to keep pretending I don’t care about you.”

Your face screws up in confusion and you’re not sure you want to hear where he’s going with this. You’ve been used to this dynamic between the two of you for so long. You’re used to him treating you like he can't stand to breathe the same air as you. If this is going where you think it is, you’re not sure you can handle it. 

“Logan,” you’re regaining some feeling in your limbs now. You use the returning strength to push away from him, shaking your head in disbelief. “No, you can’t do this. You can’t just change your-”

He’s incapable of letting you finish a single sentence. His hands wrap around your cheeks tugging you forward until your lips are brushing together. It’s enough of a shock to get you to stop talking. You don’t reciprocate, too stunned to even think about moving. 

He brushes his lips against yours again, firmer this time. Under the layers of blood coating you both, you’re wholly enveloped by him. His scent, his arms, everything about him drapes over you like a warm blanket. Against your better judgment, you find yourself returning the kiss. 

You move further into his lap, one hand holding his face and the other clutching at his hair, needing something to hold to keep you steady in this moment. Logan smiles against your lips, deepening the kiss without wasting another beat. His tongue moves gently across yours at first. A curious caress to see how well you two fit together. He groans when he gets a taste of you, pushing further in and kissing you like he wants to devour you.  

There’s warmth blooming in your stomach and spreading all along your body. You’re buzzing with adrenaline and pain and this unidentifiable feeling that Logan is evoking from you. It’s not the sweet mushy, romantic kiss you always imagined with him. 

This is desperate. Like a dying man’s last attempt at redemption. He’s tasting you like you’re rare, something to be savored. You feel like you’re the only thing left in existence. The only person left for him to admire. You forget the gore behind you, the tumultuous experiences you’ve had with him. 

You let yourself fall into the moment, a blind leap of faith into a pool of all your hopes and desires. He’s better than you ever could have imagined. More desperate than your wildest fantasies. He makes no move to stop, even as the air becomes scarce and you both have to part longer. He just grips you tighter, hands wrapped around you like he’s worried if he lets go he’ll lose you. 

He could, he could lose you. This kiss of his is putting you into a trance, distracting you from all he’s trying to make up for. Perhaps if he stops kissing you, you’ll remember it all and want nothing to do with him. But you don’t see that happening, you just see yourself craving more and more for him., You feel the addiction forming already. A deep-seated need in your bones is finally being sated, it will always need more from him. 

When you can no longer survive on the shared oxygen between you both, you’re forced to part. Your cheeks tingle from the stubble of his beard and you know your lips are pink and swollen because his are too. You’re both still coated in blood and you share a familiar glean in your eyes. 

“I never hated you,” he sounds breathless and you love that you’re the cause of it. “I just didn’t want to lose you.”

You scoff, but there are no cruel intentions behind it. “So you push me away before you ever get a chance to have me?”

He gives you a crooked smile, “I never said I was smart.” You can’t help but laugh at that. Slowly, he helps you to your feet, ignoring the puddles of blood and bits. “We'll have to call Charles. He needs to help the people out there.”

“We also need to let him know there’s no trafficking ring. Just one fucked psyche.” You shoot another glare at the pile that was Kimiko, still bitter about her experiment with your brain. As Logan helps you up the stairs of the basement, you stop him just before you reach the door. 

He gives you a concerned look, like he thinks you’ve hurt something somehow. “I want to talk to you. Really talk to you about everything.” Concern gives way to dread and you can’t help but smile at the regretful look on his face. “But first,” his head perks in interest at your tone, “maybe we can finally enjoy that master bed together?”

“You know,” he leans down, swiping his arms under your knees and lifting you. You gasp, through your arms around his neck and squeezing until you worry you might suffocate him. “You really are the smart one of us, aren’t you?”

“Clearly.”

You’re not sure how well this transition to married couple to tentatively something else is going to go. But you have hope and it's kept you going for all these years. What's wrong with letting it linger a little longer?

a/n: Guess who's back, back again? Hint, it's Flux. I missed writing for them, so I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did. Although, I worry the ending was too cheesy.

Reblogs, comments, likes, and requests are always appreciated !!

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp ♡ 

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte

@mrs-ephemeral  @wolviesgirl @insomniachox @izbelross @spktrlvr ♡

I need to stop watching edits of wolverine

it's only making me worse

I'm losing it

How About a Nuke?

Part VIII / Part IX

(Completed) Series Masterlist

Cooper Howard x fem!reader, The ghoul x fem!reader A/N: PLEASE READ, we have reached the end of their journey and I am so sad/happy/excited about it. I don’t even know how to feel honestly. I just want to thank everyone who has commented, messaged or reblogged this story. Your kind words and funny little depressed memes have been really uplifting for me. I was actually considering just giving up on this blog when I posted the first chapter. I haven’t had much inspiration lately or interaction I feel like, and you all have helped reignite that spark within me. Summary: There’s something keeping you tied to Cooper Howard, an invisible string wrapped around you both. You’ve fought against it as long as you could but he’s not gonna let you fight for much longer.

It’s been a month and the bounty on her head gets bigger everyday. Normally the compound hires privately, they don’t like going through the agencies. He figures with Sylvie dead they’re struggling to find a new leader and they’re falling apart. Or they’re just desperate for her head on a stick. 

He sees her face everywhere, crudely drawn images of her varying in their accuracy. In some she has a hat like his on, in others her nose is the wrong shape, or her eyes are all wrong. No one seems to have a good grasp on who she is. Out of curiosity and a strange need to know she’s still alive, he’s asked around. 

There are different rumors as to where she’s hiding out. Some think she’s taken to hiding out in the caves near Filly. Anyone with half a brain knows that the area’s overrun by irradiated bears and other mutated freaks. 

There are those that say they’ve seen her wandering through the sands. Following that lead had led him nowhere. He doesn’t know where she is and it’s driving him insane. She’s like a constant itch in the back of his mind that he just can’t scratch. Days and nights are spent thinking about her and he hates it. 

He’s not sure what he’d do when he does find her. Whether he’d shoot her to repay the favor or just tie her up to keep her from leaving again. He’s conflicted on how he feels about her. He’s bothered that he feels anything towards her at all. And he knows that when she shot him, she was shooting to kill. 

She had no way of knowing that he would heal from that bullet. She’d watched him bleed out on the ground and left him for dead. He was impressed, as much as he wanted to be mad, he was almost proud in a way. 

Throughout their tumultuous lives and times together she’d always had to be guided by him. He’d shown her the ways of whatever world they were living in. She’d relied on him and he enjoyed it. The time had to come when eventually she wouldn’t need him anymore. 

It’s outside of Filly that he finds the most accurate poster of her so far. She looks like she did in their first movie together. A proper outlaw, wanted all across the Wastelands for her crimes against a bunch of sick fucks. If he could kill Sylvie again, he would. He’d kill all of them. 

Not that he’s condemning them because of what the compound’s doing. He’s dabbled in organ trade before, eaten people, he’s done a lot of fucked up shit. But he draws the line at trying to hurt her. He’s the only one who should be allowed to fuck with her.

He takes the poster down and whistles softly at the price under her name. It’s enough to keep him happy for a longtime. If he never wanted to take on another bounty he wouldn’t have to. Course, he was never in this for the money. A man’s gotta have something to entertain himself with at the end of the world. 

He wonders if she’s even still alive. Maybe a Deathclaw got her a day after she left him behind. He could have walked past her corpse and never even known it. He folds the poster up and slips it in his bag. He doesn’t know why he bothers keeping it. Possibly because it’s the closest thing to her that he’s got, but he doesn’t feel like lingering on that thought for long. 

He tugs his hat lower on his head and heads through the tunnel leading to Filly. He’s caused a lot of issues here over the years. Usually he kills most of the people who could identify him as an instigator, but he doesn’t feel like pushing his luck today. He needs more supplies and he knows Ma June won’t sell to him if he causes a fight beforehand. 

It’s louder than normal today, more people rushing around. They’re all congregating around something in the center of the marketplace. He turns to the left, heading up the stairs to try and get a better look at what’s got everyone so excited. 

“They found her!” A boy shouts, fidgeting in his spot next to him. He glances at him from under his hat and the boy pales before scurrying away from him. His lips turn up in a cruel grin and he finally gets a good look at what’s happening. 

She’s kneeling in the middle of the marketplace, two Knights on either side of her. He’s more surprised by the fact that she actually has picked up a hat in her time away from him. 

She seems to be playing into the outlaw routine more than he thought she would. 

You’re embarrassed, honestly, that you let these two idiots capture you. Them and their useless little squires. 

You’ve found odd jobs through the Brotherhood when they need assistance looking for relics of the old world. Though, you’re really not sure how much use a toaster oven can be to them, but they pay good money for it. 

Once your bounty was posted and they figured out who you were, though, that stopped being useful. You can’t even hunt bounties because the agencies would just grab you and turn you over to the compound.

They clearly didn’t give a shit about women, you don’t get why they’re making this whole Sylvie situation such a big deal. 

You had to bribe Ma June by buying some of her junk, but eventually she’d helped you find some work in Filly. The people here are stupid enough that they don’t recognize you when they see you. Most of them are high or drunk so the only thing you have to worry about is wandering hands and not stepping in the middle of their brawls. 

From the patrons of the bar you hear stories about yourself. How you slaughtered the entire compound, even the children, which is so far from the truth you can’t help but scoff. Or how you apparently slept with a ghoul and you're carrying his mutant baby. 

You don’t even know where they got that one from. 

They also seem to think you wander through the sands, shooting anyone who gets in your way. It’s a comfort that no one seems to have caught onto you yet. But it’s also disheartening to know that all that’s left of civilization is a bunch of psychopathic idiots. 

What happened to natural selection?

You know your stint in Filly is up when two Knights walk in, their squires struggling to carry their bags behind them. You pull your hat further over your head and duck behind the bar. You try to keep your back to them and let the old man, Marley, who runs the bar deal with them. 

His shaky voice is cautious as he greets them, “What are Knights doing so far out here?”

One of their distorted voices rings out through the, now quiet, bar. “We got bored. Wanted to shoot some shit.”

You roll your eyes and focus on cleaning the cup in front of you. You spit into it, not enough water to properly clean it, and scrub at it with a stained towel. Marley hums, clearly displeased with the answer. You can hear his tottering steps approaching you and wince, praying he’s not going to do what you think he is. 

He tugs on your shirt with a shaky hand and you slump forward in defeat. “Deal with these jackasses,” he mutters, taking drinks over to a different table. 

You pour the only alcohol the bar has into two cups and keep your head down as you approach. “Heard that a woman took over for Knight Damien.”

One of them scoffs and shakes his armored head, “What the fuck is this world coming to?” You don’t know how they’re planning on drinking their liquor with the helmets on but you’re not going to ask stupid questions. You drop the cups in front of them, but your hand slips and one of them tips over into a Knight’s lap. 

“I’ve got it, sire.” Their squire lunges forward and begins vigorously scrubbing their armor. Your face curls up in distaste and you’re about to walk away when a metal hand grips your wrist. 

“Holy shit, it’s her!” Oh, you’re so screwed. 

They’ve got a fucking leash on you, it’s humiliating. The scarred and dirt-covered faces of the citizens of Filly surround you. They’re all leering, shouting at you and begging the Knight’s to share in the bounty. But the Knight’s aren’t listening, they’re just congratulating each other. 

“What do you think they’ll give us?”

One of them shoves their squire and he goes toppling into his large bag, feet flailing in the air. “Hopefully better fucking squires. I’m getting sick of this one’s stupid face.” 

The squire kneels down and shouts in a shaking voice, “I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you, sire!” God, you really hate these people. You wished they would just shoot you. Having to sit here and listen to them talk was making your brain go numb. 

The Knight’s distorted laugh rings out through his helmet. The other one glances over at you, “What do you think she did? I’ve never seen the compound this pissed off.”

“I dunno. Hey!” You know he’s talking to you, that they want an answer, you really don’t care to give them one. “What’d you do?” They stare at you for a moment and then he sighs when you don’t respond. He shoves his squire towards you and the kid goes stumbling over his feet. “Make her talk.”

He nods rapidly, head bobbing up and down. “Of course, sire.” Your hands twitch to your side and you give him a wicked grin as he approaches. 

He’s debating going down there and trying to help her when the first shot goes off. He doesn’t even see it happen, he just watches as one of the squires drops to the ground. 

Those who don’t want to get caught in the crossfire are quick to move away from the area, hiding in their shops or shoving past him to get through the tunnel. He heads down the stairs, taking his time and trying to figure out where the shot came from. 

The second squire moves towards her and his head flies back, a hole between his eyes and his brains splattering across the ground. One Knight shoves the other one and points at their dead squire’s, “Did you not take her fucking gun?”

He’s been in those suits. He remembers how it felt, the power you get from being in them. How they make you feel like a big man. He also remembers how fucking slow they could be. She’s on her feet and running for cover before they can even start to grab her. 

She dives behind a stall and tugs a knife out of her boot, sawing at the ropes around her wrists. He can’t reach her before the fighting starts. Someone in the remaining crowd shouts, “Grab her! Get the bounty!” And all hell breaks loose. 

Someone runs at him and he shoots them before they can grab him. Shots start going off, the Knight’s mowing down anyone who tries to swoop in on their bounty. Everyone else is shooting blindly, just trying to get rid of the competition so they can claim her bounty as their own. 

He ducks under the hail fire and slides next to her as she’s reloading her gun. She glances over at him and frowns, “Didn’t I kill you?”

He hears a shout and watches as some half-feral woman charges at them. She shoots her dead and turns back to him. He gives her a wry smile, “You want to do this now, sweetheart?”

She peers over her cover and surveys the chaos going on around them. She sighs and glances back at him, “Why aren’t you dead?” 

He tugs one of his specially made bullets out of his bag and loads it into his gun. He lifts himself to his knees and aims at the weak spot on the Knight’s chest plate. They both watch as blood explodes out of the neck of the power armor, the Knight’s friend cussing as he watches him die. 

“Next time,” she turns to look at him, “aim for the head,” he instructs. She glares at him before making her way to Ma June’s shop. He follows, not willing to let her out of his sight again, and she ducks behind the barrels of supplies in front of the shop. 

“Clearly,” she winces as the Knight’s gun starts firing off again, “I’m not making it out of here on my own.” They dive to the side as bullets rip through the barrels they’re leaning against. They’re not gonna have cover for much longer.

He grins at her, “Sounds like you’re asking me for a favor, darling.”

The sounds of screams and bodies dropping is nearly deafening. A few feet away a bullet catches a man in the throat and he drops to the ground. They watch as he chokes on his blood and tries to claw his way to safety. Steps rapidly approach them and she turns to shoot a different man, his body dropping an inch away from them. 

He turns back to her and his lips turn down, “After you tried to kill me? You want my help,” he laughs at her and she glares. 

Before she can speak a voice rings out above them, “I got her!” He shoots at the woman on the upper level above them, half of her leg gets blown off and she tumbles over the railing, narrowly missing the pair. 

He turns back to her, “You’re asking a lot, darling.”

“You’ve fucking shot me, twice. I’m not asking you for anything.” Her lips turn down in a sneer and she looks at him like the very sight of him disgusts her. “I don't need your help. I don't need you.” She glances back over her shoulder, surveying the gore and the bullets flying around them. She checks her gun and he sees just how little ammo she has left. “I’ll handle this myself.” She snaps the chamber of her gun closed and moves to get up. He grabs her wrist and yanks her back down, ignoring the angry expression on her face. 

“Look, you might not want my help, but you need it, sweetheart. Just stay here.” 

You watch as Cooper runs off, his guns firing before he’s even fully standing. You only wait a second before you’re running into Ma June’s and out her back door. She shouts at you as you barrel through her shop, knocking over her displays and shelves, but you can’t waste any time getting the hell out of dodge. 

You’re surprised Cooper was stupid enough to think you would actually wait for him. The Knight’s had called for an air evac out of Filly and if you stay there any longer you’ll be back in the compound before you can blink. 

You’ve spent a month evading them, you’re not about to let yourself get caught because of Cooper. 

You can’t believe he’s not dead. It’s not like you’ve been losing sleep over killing him, but it’s been hard to cope with the fact that you killed the man that was once the love of your life. Seeing him again, though, you wished you had shot him in his smug face. 

You’d forgotten, in the time apart, just how condescending he could be. He seemed to think you needed him to survive. You didn’t. 

At best, he provided the comfort of company. Poorly. 

Despite how much he undervalued you, you were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. You didn’t need him to save you. You would have figured your way out of there on your own, eventually. You’ve handled yourself a month in the Wastelands without him. You learned how to carve an existence for yourself out here and you did it without help. 

You race into the woods beyond Filly, putting as much distance between you and the sounds of fighting as quickly as you can. The trees around you begin to shake, the ground vibrating and a swirl of dirt and leaves rises into the air and whips you in the face. 

You look up and begin pushing yourself faster. One of the Brotherhood’s Vertibird’s is circling Filly. “This is not a hostile landing! Please remain calm!” You blame your distraction on the announcement. 

You would have heard him coming up behind you if you hadn’t been listening to whatever the Brotherhood was saying. Rope loops around your arms and you’re yanked backwards. Your head thumps painfully hard against the forest floor, rocks scraping you as you’re dragged across the ground. 

Cooper’s face appears over yours, a cruel smile on his lips. “Now, this seems awfully familiar.” He walks around you, boots straddling your waist and grabs you by the front of your shirt, yanking you back to your feet. “I thought I told you to stay put, sweetheart.”

You frown at him, shoving your leg up between his. He groans, doubling over while you shimmy out of the loose rope. “Honestly, after all the shit that’s happened you think I’m gonna listen to anything you say?” You step back from him, brushing the dirt off your clothes as best you can. 

You sigh in frustration when you realize that when the Knight’s had grabbed you, you’d lost your supplies. Cooper looks up at you and scoffs, “Missing something?” You eye his bag on the ground and start to go for it. He pulls the hammer of his gun back and you glance towards him. You’d forgotten what a quick draw he could be.

He’s fully recovered now, eyes narrowed in on you and gun pointed right at your chest. “See, a bullet to the chest might not kill me, but I reckon it’ll do a hell of a lot of damage to you. Why don’t you back up for me, sweetheart?”

You let go of his bag and slowly back away from him. He keeps his gun trained on you and stoops down, throwing his bag back over his shoulder. Your eyes dart to the hat on his head and your lips curl up when you spot the hole you’d put in it. 

Two hundred years and he’s kept that hat nearly pristine, you take no small amount of pride in being the one to ruin it. 

“The Brotherhood will be swarming these woods in a few minutes. They’re not gonna be too happy about one of their Knight’s being dead. Come with me, I can help you out.”

You scoff, “Like I’ll ever trust you again. You’ve shot me, sold me, and left me for dead, Cooper.”

He huffs, eyes narrowing and lips curled in a sardonic grin. You can tell he’s getting pissed off. “The choice is yours,” he tucks his gun back in his holster and turns on his heels. You watch in surprise as he stalks away from you. You had fully expected him to put up more of a fight, it almost hurts that he left so easily again. 

Then you hear the sounds of orders being shouted behind you. Metal creaking and stomping through the underbrush and you realize he hadn’t left but forced you between a rock and a hard place. You could follow him or let yourself get captured by the Brotherhood. 

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. You risk a glance over your shoulder and spot a rapidly approaching party of squires. You run in the direction Cooper went and find him leaning casually against a tree, a satisfied look on his face when he spots you. “Don’t say a word,” you warn, shoving past him. 

He glances at her from across the fire and finds himself feeling almost at ease for the first time in a month. It’s been a while since he’s looked up to actually find her staring back at him. She might look like she wants to kill him, but she’s here. 

“You have to admit, we make a pretty good team, darling.”

She gives him an unimpressed look, “Yeah, Cooper, we’re so great at murdering people.” She looks over to the dead bodies of the raiders they’d stolen this camp from and shakes her head. “I forgot how much death you surround yourself with.”

“I surround myself with? Might I remind you, you fired the first shot, sweetheart.” Granted, he had shoved her out of her hiding spot and given her no choice about it. 

Her head shoots up and she glares at him, “You made me!” She opens her mouth and he grins. He enjoys provoking her like this. Even if the last time he had she’d shot him because of it, but it’s fun to rile her up. She always gets so pissed off, it entertains him to no end. 

To his disappointment, she closes her mouth and shakes her head, choosing not to engage with him. He sighs and rips off a piece of jerky. “When did you turn into such a wet fucking blanket?”

Her eyes flare with anger, despite that, he can hear how hurt she really is. “Maybe when you sold me!”

He tilts his head and runs his tongue over his teeth, “You ever gonna let that go? I told you it was a mistake. How was I supposed to know they were gonna breed you like a prize pig?”

She scoffs, the noise high pitched and shocked. She shakes her head and stares at him with wide eyes, “You are unbelievable.” He shrugs and takes a swig from the flask he’d stolen off one of the raiders. He’s not sure how they make their alcohol, or if they trade for it, but it’s fucking disgusting. He frowns at the flask and drains the rest of it before tossing it into the woods behind him. 

She sighs and runs a hand over her face, her voice tired as she asks, “What’s the plan here, Cooper?” 

He picks at his teeth and shakes his head, “With what?”

She leans against the log behind her and gestures at herself. “With me. What, are you going to wait for me to pass out so you can tie me up and send me back to the compound? I’ve seen the price on my head. I know how valuable I am to everyone in the Wastelands.”

He doesn’t know why what she’s saying bothers him so much but it does. “You really think I’d send you back there?”

Her face is devoid of anything as she responds, “Why wouldn’t you?”

It’s the bluntness with which she asks that, that bugs him. Like there’s no other possibility but him betraying her. Taking advantage of her while she was vulnerable and weak and then handing her over to the people who want her dead. He wouldn’t do that to her. 

He didn’t go through all this fucking trouble to find her just to lose her again. He wants to tell her as much but she’s on her feet and grabbing her bag before he can. “Look, I appreciate the help today, but I’m not interested in starting this partnership back up again. I think it’s better if we just part ways.”

He whips his gun out before he can think about what he’s doing. She freezes, still bent over and eyes his gun warily. “I’m afraid that’s not an option, darling.” He can’t let her leave again. And maybe this isn’t the best way to go about it, but he doesn’t know how else to stop her. 

“You gonna shoot me, Cooper?” She whispers, her own hand twitching for the revolver at her side. He stands up and grabs her wrists, ignoring the way she struggles against him. He binds her hands with his rope and he sits back down, 

“I’m not gonna turn you in and I’m not gonna shoot you. But you’re not getting out of here that easy, sweetheart.”

Her eyes narrow in on his, her fists clenched tightly in anger. “I killed two men with my hands bound today. What’s stopping me from killing you?”

He shrugs, “Nothing. There’s nothing stopping you, just like there’s nothing stopping me. But I’m not killing you, am I? See,” he leans forward, “I’ve fought too hard and spent too much time looking after you to just let you go now. We’re in this together, whether you want it or not.”

Her lips split in a sneer and she throws herself down on the log. “You’re all the fucking same. You treat me like a goddamn dog that needs to be beat into submission. I’m not some misbehaving pet, Cooper!” Her eyes well up and her voice breaks, “You don’t get to just leash me and expect me to be okay with it.”

“I’m under no illusions that you’re happy here, sweetheart.” He runs a hand down his face and she shakes her head in disbelief. 

“Then just let me go,” she’s bordering on begging now and his chest squeezes the longer she stares at him with those pleading eyes of hers. It’s not something he’s familiar with, this feeling, this longing for her to just shut the fuck up and stop making this so damn difficult for him. 

“I can’t,” he mutters, wanting her to just drop it. 

“Why not?” She snaps, dropping any pretenses of trying to get him to sympathize with her.

He surges forward and grabs her by the jaw. Her eyes widen in shock and he smashes their lips together, teeth clashing painfully. There’s nothing gentle or sweet about this kiss. Her teeth are ripping into his scarred lips until the taste of copper is spreading on his tongue. He groans, digging his fingers into her cheeks until her lips part. 

His tongue probes against hers, the taste of his blood spreading into her mouth as well. She whimpers, the noise stirring something in him he’d forgotten about. There’s an old desire bubbling in him that’s making him blind to the rest of the world. He wants her, more than he ever wants to admit. 

He’s wanted her for a long time before this and they both know it. How hard he’s fought against it, against moments like these. He didn’t think he was still capable of this feeling, this desire for her. But it’s consuming. She’s ruining him, running him in circles until he thinks he’s going insane. 

But it’s not the same gentle passion it once was. It’s as twisted as he’s become. The desire to possess, consume, covet until she’s his and only his to do with what he wants. His teeth dig into her, letting her blood overcome the taste of his own. He groans, his free hand grabbing her waist and yanking her closer. 

She tastes so much sweeter than he does, he wants to rip a chunk of her off and eat her whole. He’s so distracted he doesn't even notice her pulling out her gun until he’s shooting back from her. He lands roughly on the forest floor and groans, hands clutched over the bleeding hole in his gut. Pain radiates through his abdomen and he rolls onto his side.

He looks up at her in shock. She’s spitting their blood onto the ground, her bound hands wiping at her lips. “Asshole,” she mutters. She tucks her gun back in her holster and looks over at him. 

His eyes are wide in disbelief as he struggles to sit back up. The movement causes another wave of pain and he hisses through gritted teeth, “You shot me!”

She rolls her eyes and gives him a blank look, “You’ll live.” He limps back to his own seat and lifts his shirt, watching as the hole closes over slowly and the blood stops leaking. She watches as he heals and sighs, “Unfortunately.” He tugs it back down and sighs at the state of his shirt. 

“My shirt won’t.” He digs a finger into the hole and tugs on it, watching as it rips wider. Two hundred years he’s kept these clothes, she ruins them in a month. Un-fucking-believable. 

“Sew it,” she gripes, still wiping at her mouth. “I can’t believe you just fucking kissed me,” she frowns and spits again, bits of crimson lingering on her lips. 

He sighs and leans back against the tree. “Felt right in the moment.” It did, he wants to do it again. They’re even now, they’ve both shot each other twice. No reason for her to shoot again. 

He wants to feel the way she shivers against him and moans into his mouth. She can be pissed all she wants but she kissed back, she can’t deny that. He’s sure if she wasn’t tied up she’d be a bit more receptive to him. Or maybe she just needs time to cool off after the whole compound incident, a month seems like a reasonable amount of time. Then again, women are so damn unreasonable. 

She tugs a knife out of her boot and positions it between her knees. She places it between her wrists and saws at the rope until it falls free. She slides the knife back in her boot and tosses the ruined rope at him. 

He catches it with a sigh and glances up at her. “Why didn’t you do that earlier?”

Her eyes are alight with a challenge, “I wanted to see if you would let me go yourself.” Well, clearly, he had failed her little test. “I wanted to see if there was even a possibility I could ever trust you again.”

He gives her an unimpressed look, slightly pissed off about his shirt. He never should have taught her how to shoot. If he’d known it would come back to bite him in the ass he wouldn’t have. “And?”

She gives him a disbelieving look and shakes her head. “And instead of letting me go, you kissed me.“ She throws her hands up in astonishment and glares at him. “Why the hell would you think that was a good idea?”

He smirks and revels in the way she shivers at the sight. “Well, darling, I’ve always been better with actions not words.”

“Yeah,” her voice is a challenge, eyes hard and jaw clenched tightly in frustration. He loves the sight of her all riled up. He loves it even more knowing he’s the one getting her like this. “What were you trying to tell me with that little display?”

He doesn’t answer her question, not wanting to just yet. “You liked it, didn’t you?” Her mouth snaps shut and she looks away from him. He laughs, leaning back and giving her a smug look. “You can be pissed off at me as much as you want, sweetheart,” the nickname rolls off his tongue like a taunt and she sneers at him. “But you want me just the same as you used to.”

“Do you like hurting me? Is that why you keep me around? You’ve been alone for two hundred years, Cooper. And for the majority of them you’ve harbored this hatred for me because you thought I had abandoned you just like everyone else.” 

Her words strike a place deep inside him that has him on edge. She knows what she’s doing. He’s forgotten, in his time with her, that in the same way he can get under her skin, she can do it too. She knows him just as well, she’s just always been the better half of their duo. She never feels the need to stoop to the level he does. But she’s doing it now and it feels like a kick in the teeth. 

“And I’m the only one that’s actually stuck by you.” She laughs, but there’s an underlying pain to it. She looks away from him and wipes at her cheeks and his fists clench within his gloves. “Is this your revenge? You think by torturing me you get back at everyone whose ever fucked you over. I’m sick of it, Cooper. I’m not gonna let you use me anymore.”

“I feel for you,” he forces the words out. He doesn’t want to tell her this. He shouldn’t have to tell her this. She should just stick with him, it’s what they’d always done, it’s how it always should be. Them, together. But she’s fighting against that, against him, so much that he doesn’t have a choice. 

She’s backed him into a corner he doesn’t know how to get out of. “In a way I haven’t in a very long time. I can’t let you go. Don’t you get that, sweetheart? We’re in this together.”

She shakes her head and he sighs. “No,” she looks at him and just shakes her head again. “No, you don’t love me, Cooper, or you don’t want me at least. I’m not the same girl I was, that’s what you’re after. That idea in your head, of us together, that’s who I was. You were right, the Wastelands changes you. I can’t be her for you and I don’t want to be.”

He chuckles and she shrinks away from the sound in suspicion. “Newsflash, darling, I’m not the same man. I loved you a long time ago, sweetheart, but I’m not capable of that anymore. Not for the girl you were, anyway.”

She nodded, her arms wrapped around herself. She looked like she accepted the answer, but he could see beyond that, could see that she thought he was rejecting her. It hurt, she could hate him as much as she wanted, but that still hurt her. “Good,” she muttered, “she’s gone.”

“Well, good.” She shrank further into herself and he grinned.  “You. You as you are now. That’s what I want. I don’t give a shit about who we were, the only person I’ve wanted since I’ve been out here has been you. You’re the only person I’ve met who can actually keep up with me. I don’t give a shit if anyone in this godforsaken Wasteland lives or dies, but I give a shit about you. You’re also the only one who can knock me on my ass.”

Her eyes darted to the hole in his shirt and a small grin came over her lips. “Haven’t been shot a lot, have you, cowboy?”

“No,” he chuckles again and grins at her, “I haven’t. Though, I am still pretty pissed about the hole in my hat.”

Her tone loses a bit of her playfulness and she glares at him, “You more than earned that.”

He acquiesces and holds up his hands in surrender, “Maybe.” She scoffs at that and rolls her eyes. “But I think we’re even now.”

“Barely,” she mutters, rubbing at the bruises on her wrists. She glances up at him and sighs, a surrender in her eyes. “But, it’s close enough now.”

He stands up and she eyes him warily as he throws himself down on the log next to her. He holds out a hand, “What do you say, darling, partners?”

She sighs and stares at his hand for a long time. He doesn’t mind, he leaves it there, hovering between them. He knows she’ll take it. “Deny it as much as you want but this is how it’s meant to be. You can keep fighting it or save us both some time.”

She reaches forward and tentatively wraps a hand around his, she uses it to yank him forward, their faces separated by an inch. “Shoot me again,” she whispers, “and I won’t miss the next time I knock you on your ass.”

“Oh shit,” you jump at the kickback on the rifle and nearly drop it to the ground. Cooper laughs and reaches around you, taking it from you. 

“Maybe I should have started you off with something with a little less kick to it.” He props the rifle against the tree and glances over to the cans you’d been shooting at. Well, you’d gotten one out of five at least. 

In all fairness this was the first time you’d ever handled a gun, you’re sure you’re doing fine for a beginner. He sucks on his teeth and looks at your targets. The serious look on his face cracks and he’s clearly trying to fight off laughing. 

You shove at his shoulder, smiling, “Shut up. I’ve never used one of these things before.”

He picks the rifle back up and starts laughing now, “You mean a gun?” 

You throw your arms in the air in defeat and slump into the patio chairs he’s dragged to the back of the cabin. “This is pointless, anyway.” He cocks the rifle and lifts it up to aim properly. In quick succession he knocks the remaining four cans off the fence. You roll your eyes at him, “Show off.”

He smiles and takes a seat next to you. You remain silent for a while, gazing across the yard and to the towering mountains across from his cabin. You appreciate him inviting you here. When you’d told him how overwhelmed you’d been feeling with all the new publicity you hadn’t expected him to drag you all the way out to his mountain home. 

You wouldn’t have accepted if you’d known it was just going to be you and him. You’d thought he was bringing his wife and kid, too. Spending a long weekend playing house with Cooper wasn’t going to do anything in getting rid of your crush. It was just getting worse the longer you were around him.

Waking up everyday and having him be the first person to greet you was going to send you into an early grave. You swear your heart’s never beat this fast around anyone else. He seems to be the only man who's ever had you feeling this head over heels. 

“I think it’s important you learn.”

You glance over at him, surprised at how serious he sounds. He’s still staring out at the mountains, but his gaze is distant. His mind is some place else. “Why?” You ask, voice quiet, afraid to spoil the moment.

He finally blinks, gaze darting down to his hands and the rifle still in them. “It’s easy for people to dismiss the war nowadays. They weren’t there, they didn’t watch as hundreds of good men and women died for them.” You frown, sometimes it’s easy to forget that he’d been fighting on the frontlines. He’s so good at being a socialite, you feel guilty that even you sometimes forget he was a soldier before he was Cooper Howard. 

His voice is heavy, the tension thick around the both of you. “They seem to think the war is over. I know it’s not, it’s just going to get worse. People can bury their heads in the sand as long as they want, but when the fighting is at their front door, what are they going to do?”

You reach out, hand covering his own. He finally looks up at you and you smile. “I appreciate it, Cooper.”

His eyes quickly look at your hand before looking back at you. “For what?”

You shrug, moving closer to him and lacing your fingers with his. You shouldn’t indulge yourself like this, but you can’t help it. He seems so sad and you only want to make him feel better. You just want to take care of him, the way he takes care of you. 

“For always looking out for me. You’re always there, I appreciate it. I appreciate you.”

The sad cast over his face finally breaks and he smiles at you. His hand squeezes yours once, then again and he looks back out at the mountains without saying anything else. You don’t think he needs to, that either of you needs to. Sometimes you understand each other better without words. 

You’ll always be there for one another.

You eye him warily and he holds the jerky out further. “Aren’t you a little curious?” He taunts, waving the jerky around in front of your face. You know he thinks you won’t take it. That he’s just screwing with you. He’s been doing this ever since you agreed to tag along with him. Teasing you at every given opportunity. 

You snatch it from his hands and rip a piece of it off. It kind of tastes like beef, if not a little sweeter. There’s also that metallic radiated tang to it. You chew it slowly, savoring the slightly caught off guard look on his face. You swallow it down, forcing your face to stay straight and not give away how disgusted you feel right now. 

He chuckles, leaning back and looking at you with something that seems like appreciation. “I hope you know that was ass jerky.”

You gag now, glaring at him and tossing the rest of the jerky at his smug face. “You’re such a dick.” You take a swig from your canteen and swirl the water around your mouth. It gets rid of the taste well enough but you’re never going to get over the fact that you swallowed a part of someone’s ass. 

He suddenly gets serious, swatting at your arm and motioning to the front of the store. You crouch beside him, watching as a raider walks out of the front doors. You don’t get why they chose an old movie store for their hideout, but Cooper had it on good authority that they had a decent cache of supplies inside. 

The last time you’d followed him into one of these things, you’d nearly died, and then he’d sold you. You’re still not fully trusting of him. The only reason you’re with him now is because you need extra security from bounty hunters after getting booted out of Filly. 

If he wasn’t such a good shot, you would have never given him a second glance. Despite how much he insists the compound was an honest mistake, you find the trust slow to come. You’ll let him take the lead on this one, you’re not confident in him having your back if things take a turn. 

He moves forward and you hang back, keeping watch while he slits the guard’s throat. He lowers the body quietly to the ground and you creep behind him, following him through the doors of the store. 

This group is smaller than the last one you dealt with. Only five of them with no extra guards outside. Cooper ducks behind a dust covered shelf before they can spot either of you. You go to the other side of the store, moving slowly along the edge until you have a good shot. 

You take out one man and Cooper manages to hit two more before they start firing off their own guns. You dart back behind the shelf, willing to let Cooper handle the last two. But one of them dives behind the shelf and grabs at you. 

Another shot goes off and his friend’s body hits the ground while he rounds the corner with you. He’s got an arm wrapped around your throat and the barrel of his gun pushing so hard into your skull you can feel an indent forming. 

It wouldn’t be hard to shoot this guy, you still have your gun in your hand. Cooper seems to realize that, too, from the questioning look he gives you. You drop your gun to the floor, you want to see what he’ll do. 

Maybe you’re stupid, gambling with your life like this. But you don’t feel any fear, not from the guy holding you hostage at least. You just keep your eyes locked on Cooper’s. They’re so familiar to you, yet so distant. Like a stranger you’ve known all your life. 

He slowly rises from the floor, hands raised in the air in surrender. “Alright, let’s just see if we can’t talk this out like gentlemen.”

The guy holding you jerks you roughly, gun banging painfully against your temple. You wince but remain quiet. “Stay back or I’ll blow her goddamn brains out!”

Cooper’s eyes dart from your face to the guy. He huffs, frowning and pursing his lips like he’s trying to think of a way to talk himself out of this. He could leave, he’s got enough time to make it through the door before he fires at him. 

Or he could help you. 

It’s the only reason you let yourself get caught. If he wants your trust he’s going to have to prove it. Cooper looks at you and a grin splits across his face. It’s like he’s read your mind, from the knowing look on his face you think he might’ve. 

Then again, you never really needed words to talk to each other. 

With a speed that never fails to catch you off guard his hand darts under his jacket and he draws his gun. He’s shooting the man before you even get a chance to brace yourself. Your body gets dragged back slightly by the dead weight but Cooper moves forward and wraps a hand around your shirt, tugging you into him. 

Your hands shoot out, bracing yourself against his chest. He peers at you from under his hat and grins, “You didn’t really think I was gonna let you go that easy did you, darling?” Your eyes dart down to his lips, you feel like you can still taste him. 

The timing of his kiss might not have been appropriate, but he certainly hadn’t made it forgettable. Nothing about him was forgettable. As much as you wished he could be. You hated yourself for still letting yourself fall into his trap. 

Hollywood might have once labeled you as the most seductive actress of your generation, but Cooper had you beat. He kept you coming back even when you knew you shouldn’t. He had you wrapped around him and all you wanted to do was squeeze until he let you go. 

You push off of him, ignoring how much you want to pull him closer. You move towards their pile of supplies, “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

There are a few different posters set up in the old movie store that intrigue him. But the one that’s caught his attention the most is set up directly behind her. Her back is to it, so she hasn’t gotten a chance to see it yet, but it’s all he can focus on. 

The Outlaw and The Sheriff

Their first movie together. 

He looks at her and huffs out a laugh, she glances up at him for a moment before she begins rifling through her bag again. She looks like she walked right off the fucking poster, hat and all. She’s the spitting image of herself, but she seems so different. 

Maybe it’s the eyes. The light there has changed, dimmed slightly from how it used to be. She used to seem so naive to the world, like a little lamb that just needed some guidance. Now, he wonders just how much of the world she’d seen before he found her. If maybe she had never been as innocent to it’s cruelties as he’d once assumed. 

She stepped into this new role of hers just as quickly as he had. You didn’t just change that quickly without knowing already just how awful people could be. 

“Sweetheart,” she looks up and he points behind her. She turns around and looks up to the poster.

She scoffs, moving to stand beside him, “I always hated how I looked in that.”

He glances over at her and shakes his head, “Probably shouldn’t show you a mirror anytime soon, then.” Her hands reach up to fiddle with the brim of her hat and she smiles, a real smile for once. 

“No, I suppose not.” Her hands trace over her lips, he glances back at the poster. At that old signature of hers. She always had to have those red lips. “It’s so different,” she whispers and he knows she didn’t mean for him to hear. Her eyes glisten and he frowns. 

He shouldn’t have shown her. It’s not like he enjoyed seeing those fucking Vault-Boy posters, he sure as hell hated seeing clips of himself. Why would she enjoy seeing who she used to be? Who they used to be?

Things used to be so simple. He loved her, she loved him. Now he’d fucked up so much he wasn’t sure she could ever look at him the way she used to. He didn’t want who she was before, he couldn’t handle that. This new her, well, he didn’t give her near enough credit. 

But he wouldn’t hate seeing someone look at him like that again. Endless adoration and unflinching loyalty. He knew he would follow her anywhere, he’d realized that a while ago. He didn’t have anything in the Wastelands, nothing but hate and spite to keep him going all this time.

Now, he had her. He just needed her to realize that she had him just the same. She had him wrapped around her and he hated it and loved it at the same time. Hated her and loved her for it all the same. 

He tugs his glove off before he reaches for her. He cups her cheek, thumb tracing over her lips before she turns towards him. His eyes meet hers and he smiles slightly at the familiarity and mystery to them. So much of her he recognizes and then there are these new parts he’s yet to discover. 

He wants to discover all of her. Learn everything he can about her all over again, feed his desire to consume her entirely. 

She pulls him in this time, her lips chapped and cracked. Her arms wind around his neck, yanking him closer and he tugs at her. She tastes as sweet as he remembers and it only makes him crave more. More of her, more of anything she’ll let him have. 

She pulls back from him, pressing her hand against his chest, slowly backing him against the wall. He lets her ease him to the floor and she throws a leg over his lap. She settles herself above him, both her hands tightly grasping his neck, crushing their bodies together, eyes gazing intently into his own. He doesn’t know what she’s looking for in him but she seems to find it when she leans in once more. 

She isn’t giving him a chance at control, she’s got a leash on him, pulling back anytime he tries to lead. He relents, following her as she slowly explores him. 

He’s not sure how long this peace between them will last before one of them inevitably fucks up. But they’re stuck together now. It doesn’t matter what happens, he’s not letting her get away from him again. 

She’s his, always has been, always will be. It’s been that way since before the fallout. He’s led her, guided her.

He had loved her as a different man. History always seems to repeat itself with them. As twisted as the world is, as twisted as they’ve become, they always seem to drift back together. No matter how much the both of them fight against it. 

He’s giving in now, giving into her. 

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.

Should have something ready for y’all soon!!

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

Heading into work again, wish me luck 😋🔫

your logan fics are a GODSEND

you have his character down so perfectly, they’re such a delight to read and i fucking LOVEEEEEE the angsty tropes!! genuinely just wanted to say thank you so much for sharing because o really enjoyed reading !!

AHHHH that's so sweet, thank you, I'm so glad you're enjoying the stories. It's such a relief to know he's not coming across too out of character bc I have not seen those movies since I was a child.

I have another story I want to post for him but it's super goofy and not really angsty and I'm worried y'all won't like it as much 😭

Thank you so much for doing these!!

I hope this isn’t considered too specific. I read your rules and know you don’t like fic-specific asks, which isn’t what I want, but I’m not sure if you’re familiar with this fandom. Would you ever do dividers for Resident Evil: Village? Specially Karl Heisenberg, his whole thing is having metal-bending type powers. My idea was like bloody metal gears or something? Sorry if this is too vague.

Even if you don’t do this, I just want you to know how grateful I am for you creating dividers as someone who absolutely hates trying to figure out Canva.

ahh I am sorry if the wording made you nervous! It’s not that I don’t like them, it’s just that I have limited time right now, and want to make things that anyone could pick up and use 💖 and omg yes i would love to make something for him!! sorry for the delay, but I hope this captures his vibe. I used your ideas and added in the classic logo & then his crest as well!

[Free] Masterlist Headers & Dividers!

Please consider liking or reblogging if you use 💕

Your writing is so amazing 🫶🫶Thank you for what you do ml, I hope you’re taking care of yourself

You guys are so sweet! Thank you for the kind message. It's funny you sent this while I'm on like day seven of a stomach bug and thought I was going to die this morning.

Hope you're taking care of yourself. Messages like these make me so happy to be sharing my writing with you all 💗