ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ DIRECTORY

Hi! I just wanted to say that I just finished reading broken promises and I LOVED IT. Logan was so so SO well written I could cry!!! You are by far my favorite logan writer and if you ever continued broken promises TRUST i would be the first to read it every time lol!! Regardless, cant wait to see whats next from you <3

YAY! I'm so glad you liked broken promises. I was worried that my stuff for him was going to start sounding repetitive bc it's very easy to do that when you write for the same character so often, but I'm glad everyone seems to be enjoying it.

I don't see myself doing a continuation for it. Mainly because in my mind they traveled around for a while and then discovered Charles' school, but I don't think my writing all that out would be very enjoyable for me or for anyone who reads it.

If requested, I would probably do a few blurbs of them on the road together and her having a taste of the real world for once lmao

What if Y/n teased logan by playfully biting his ear/cheek/jaw/finger/ etc.. only for him to get a raging hard on and chase them down ?

Teasing leading into a cat n mouse chase 👉👈

Took that and a few other requests and created this

hope you enjoy

HELLO!!!

I’m going to be more interactive on my blog again, requests have been reopened. I haven’t gotten through all the Logan requests yet (I’ll get to them don’t worry.) But they’re not sparking the inspiration I need right now.

Please send in you requests- I’d love if they were even a little spooky too for Halloween.

I have a vacation at the end of October, so I’m not going to be very active then. Whatever you want me to write, send it in now so I can see it sooner.

💗💗💗💗

Ultraviolence

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Cooper Howard x fem!reader, The Ghoul x fem!reader A/N: Canon timeline? We don’t know her Summary: He’s not the man you remember. Maybe you’d never actually known who that man was. It doesn’t matter, you need to get away from him before he kills you or does worse.

Bud sits at the head of the table. You don’t know how he managed to get this room for your meeting. Most of the time it’s only used for potential investors or the higher ups. But you know he likes to use it because it makes him feel powerful to sit in the big chair. 

You sit beside him, Hank’s on the other side of him, all of the higher ranking Buds are. It ranges from junior execs to lower ranking administrative assistants. He wants to create the next few generations of super managers and this is who he’s starting with.

You met him when you were working with his company creating the power suits. You were the one that brought the concerns about the defects to him. And because you’d saved him from years of lawsuits and dropping stocks by getting him the hell out of there, he’d taken you on as his personal assistant. A better pay, but not a better job. 

When Vault-Tec had agreed to this plan of his for his triple set of vaults, he’d kept you as his personal right hand. But that doesn’t matter to the rest of the little corporate worker bees. They don’t think you earned your place here. And they think you’re a threat to their positions. 

You’d been under the misguided belief that it was common knowledge that Bud wasn’t truly grooming you to take over the vaults. He likes you and enjoys working with you. Squeezing you into this program was a favor and a way to keep you safe in the fallout. He only drags you to these meetings to keep a good cover as to why you’re supposedly a valuable asset. None of its real.

These people don’t respect you. They’re all buying into a baseless rumor that you slept your way here. Not true, ever. If you weren’t so inclined to saving your own ass you might even say that you would prefer the nuclear war zone to Bud’s bed. But honestly, those thirty seconds with him would probably be worth it to have a place in the promised land. 

At the very least, he’s not letting you go into this unprepared. He’s got you in the same training regime as the rest. The same classes on leadership during tumultuous and trying times. If you are one of the lucky few who gets to see the surface, you won’t be unprepared. 

The meeting has devolved from lessons on proper management to discussions on other vaults. “I heard in vault eleven they’re doing self elected sacrifices.”

You scoff, spinning a pen idly on the table before you and reclining lazily in your seat. “That’s ridiculous,” you object, “what’s the point?”

Steph shrugs and shakes her head, blonde curls idly bobbing by her ears. “I don’t know. I think a lot of the experiments are just for the sick satisfaction of the investors.” Everyone turns to Bud, wanting to see if he would divulge any information. 

He entertained you guys by letting you speculate on what the vaults might be, but he was pretty adamant on not sharing investor secrets. Instead of answering he smiles, “A hypothetical for you.” You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes. He might be kinder to you, but you had to show him the same respect everyone else did. You didn’t want to risk undermining him just because he didn’t have as strong a backbone when it came to you. 

Besides, you know he doesn’t like talking about the darker side of the vaults. He always tenses up when anyone mentions a particularly grisly experiment. It’s clear that what Vault-Tec is doing is evil. But what the investors are planning is even worse. At least Bud just wants to breed a bunch of corporate workers, some of these people are talking about killing kids and only letting the smartest reach adulthood. Sometimes, Bud doesn’t like to face the harsh reality of the company he endorses so eagerly.

“Betty,” his eyes scan the table and everyone perks up, hoping for an opportunity to prove themself. His eyes land on you and his face lights up. You try to shake your head subtly at him but he’s already speaking your name with a smile. 

These hypotheticals are tests, see who has the better solution to a vault conflict. It’s an unspoken rule that whoever has the right answer is more likely to be put in a position of power rather than just be a breeder. With Betty it’s lose-lose. You let her win and everyone here just further confirms that you don’t have what it takes. You win and the divide between you both just gets larger. 

You feel the eyes of everyone on you and try to ignore them by continuing to roll the pen against the table, blocking out their stares. 

“One of us gets off on the wrong foot with their new partner from the breeding vaults. What do you do?”

Betty speaks up quickly, “We reassign,” she blurts out, all confidence and smugness as she looks over at you. “If they don’t get along, they can’t facilitate the proper environment for a child. It’s best to just reassign them to another partner.”

Bud hums, jotting something down on his notepad and looks at you. He says your name, prompting you to speak. “Once a partner’s assigned, there’s no going back. It’s up to the overseer to facilitate conversation between the two and find the root of the problem. It’s up to us,” you look at your peers and grin, “to be better than them. If we can’t get along with our partner it’s a poor reflection on us and Bud. Ultimately, it’s our job to fix the issue with conversation and if that doesn’t work, well,” you smile at Bud, “a little extra Calmex in their Sugar Bombs never hurts.”

Betty’s face falls as Bud smiles at you in return and you know you’ve won. “Correct! We’re meant to be raising the best of the best for our future. That means that petty squabbles get left behind. And I need strong leaders.” 

Bud grows serious, staring down the table at you all. “One’s who aren’t afraid of compromising their principles.”

He yanks her to her feet, fisting his hand in the collar of her blue suit dragging her up harshly. Her eyes widen with shock, looking him up and down. “Cooper?” She shakes her head like she’s trying to reset it and his mouth turns down into a frown. Her mouth flops open and closed obnoxiously. “I thought when I saw you that I was going insane. That I’d finally had a heat stroke. But it’s really you isn’t it?” 

She reaches forward like she’s going to touch him and he steps back with a harsh scoff. There’s a distant sort of wonder to her voice that has him gritting his teeth. Few things have kept him going these past two hundred odd years. Two of the main motivators; spite and hate. And he holds a hell of a lot for her. 

“In the flesh,” he grins, only getting angrier when she looks at his yellowed teeth with disgust. Not everyone had the luxury of hiding out in the vaults like a fucking coward. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” The question is blunt, no class or grace about it. She’s clearly caught off guard by the sight of him. He’s sure it's jarring to see the man who she’d left for dead still alive. Frankly, he’s only getting more pissed off by her reaction. 

He honestly thought that she was dead. He figured after she’d screwed the pooch with him that they’d gotten rid of her. And at one point, the thought of her death had saddened him slightly. They’d been close, about to breach something that would have ruined him as a married man and compromised his morals. But she’d lied to him and he was long past sadness, the only thing he felt now was a stark disappointment that she was still fucking breathing. 

“Nuclear fallout happened.” He growled, grabbing her by the rope looped around her waist and yanking her forward. She yelped, stumbling into his chest and trying to tug herself back from him. “Don’t you remember? It was your people who pushed the button.”

She smirks, a cruel tilt to her lips that makes him want to beat her to the ground. “If I remember correctly, it was your wife who pushed the button.”

He looks her up and down. There’s a burning rage building in him, this overwhelming desire to just take out his gun and riddle her pretty body with bullets. He’s damn near desperate to see what her blood looks like painting the forest floor. But he has to have patience, he’s got use for her yet. 

He lifts the rope up, smiling at the relieved look on her face, before drawing it around her neck and tightening it. She wheezes, hands shooting up to try and loosen it. He tuts, patronizing, grabbing her wrists harshly and yanking her forward so he can tie those too. She tries to say something, he doesn’t care what, but all that comes out is a strangled gasp for air. 

He tugs on the rope a few times, smiling at the way she winces at the pull, before dragging her through the forest. He’d love to just get this over with here and be done with her. But he needs to get away from Filly before the Knight calls for backup from the brotherhood. They’re not exactly big fans of him and he doesn’t need any more trouble than he’s already got. 

With her in his grasp, he forgets all about the bounty left behind in Filly. And the girl who’d been with her. 

“Is it true?” Hank runs in front of you, stopping you from going any further. You let out a rough sigh, glaring at him. 

“Is what?” You snap, moving around him and continuing towards the elevator. You’re going to be late meeting Bud at the studio if Hank decides he feels like being chatty today. You don’t want to make a bad first impression with your new boss. 

You don’t resent the idea of being an assistant as much as you thought you would. You were Bud’s assistant, but he didn’t really count. He wasn’t much of a boss and the tasks he had for you were menial. Most of your time was taken up by your training anyway. The only part bothering you about all this was the worry that your new boss might not be very agreeable.

He catches up with you, looking incredibly excited. “Bud’s really assigning you to Cooper Howard?” You huff out a laugh, nearly forgetting that Hank is just as smitten with Cooper as Bud is. Your heels clack against the tile as he keeps stride with you. You stop in front of the elevator, glancing over at him while you click the button. 

It opens quickly and you both step inside, even though you know he doesn’t need to actually use it. He fiddles with his tie, doing more damage than good. You roll your eyes and step forward, straightening it out for him. “Yes,” you mutter, fixing the knot. “I’m working with Mr. Howard from now on. Barbara thinks I’m expendable enough to be assigned to him.”

Hank glances down at you, patting your hand as you step back. “You’re not expendable,” he tries to reassure. 

You give him a grateful smile and shrug. “That’s sweet, Hank, but we both know I am. I don’t have any qualms about it. I’m just hoping he’s not one of those Hollywood assholes who thinks everyone needs to worship the ground he walks on.”

Hank shakes his head, expression in vehement disagreement. “No way, he’s my idol. Have you seen him in A Man and His Dog? Oh, and that line of his ‘feo, fuerte y formal.’” You blow out a long breath, idly clicking the first level button again, hoping it might speed this up. Hank chuckles, “Sorry, I’ve been talking Betty’s ear off about this all week. I almost wish Bud had assigned me to him.”

You don’t bother with telling him that he’s sorely lacking the assets that make you so well suited for the job. The elevator stops, doors slowly sliding open and you all but leap out of it. “You’ve got more important things to do here, Hank. I’ll try and get you an autograph,” he lights up at this. 

“Trust me,” you turn to look at him, giving him a slight smile. “Never meet your heroes.”

You’re tied up to a tree, the rope around your neck still wrapped around his fist. You eye it warily, waiting for him to yank on it again. He keeps doing that, randomly tugging on it and causing the burns around your neck to worsen. “I’ve got ways of making you speak, darling. You’re only making this worse for yourself.”

You glare at him, undeterred by his ‘torture.’ “You know another way of making someone talk?” His head tilts in question and you scoff, “Fucking asking a question.” He’s had you here for you don’t even know how long. Blood is steadily starting to form around the burns on your neck. Everytime you inhale it feels like you’re brushing an exposed nerve. And through all of this, he hasn’t asked you one damn thing. 

He just keeps tugging that goddamn rope and giving you this expectant look like you’re meant to read his mind. He’s already rifled through your bag, stolen your guns, and dropped all of your supplies onto the forest floor. You don’t know what he’s looking for but clearly it wasn’t in there. Or he’s just being a dick. 

This was not at all how you thought your reunion with him was going to go. One, because you’d never thought there would be a reunion. And, two, you don’t remember him being such a sadistic asshole. Then again, if he’s been out here as long as you think he has, you’re lucky he’s not worse. 

You still can’t believe it, that he’s alive. Even if he is a ghoul now, it’s a miracle your paths ever crossed. Well, maybe a curse, karmic justice on your part. He leans forward, elbows propped up on his knees and you find yourself leaning in to meet him. He grins, the curl of his lips cruel and lacking any sort of warmth. It’s enough to have you pressing your back against the trunk of the tree again. 

He doesn’t appreciate that, though, and tugs you forward once more. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, but you can’t help it. You hiss in pain, burning tears building up on the rim of your eyelids as you glare at him. “How’s this, sweetheart, where’s my fucking family?” The last two words are bordering on a shout, full of an anger you’ve never heard from him before. 

It’s enough to cause you to flinch back in surprise. Then, you laugh. “Family?” You question, tone sarcastic and bordering on cruel, “What fucking family?” The noise grates further on his nerves and the look on his face causes you to laugh harder. He darts forward, fast as a whip, and grabs your throat, shoving you back against the tree. 

You grin up at him, ignoring how much the leather of his glove hurts the raw skin on your neck. “I don’t know. How would I?”

He grins, “You were Buck’s favorite little cocksucker weren’t you?”

You scoff, lips curling down in disgust. “Bud,” you spit out, not helping your case. “And that was above my fucking pay grade jackass.” 

God, didn’t you used to love him? Wasn’t that the whole reason your relationship never worked with your husband? You’re really not feeling any of the love right now. Apparently, neither is he, his hand tightens to the point your vision turns black. Shadows start to crawl into the corners of your eyes and you can feel them starting to roll. Your limbs flail out in a discoordinated panic as air becomes harder to come by. 

After a minute he finally releases you, backing off and sitting back down on the log across from you. You fall forward, hands clawing at your throat as you take in deep gasping breaths. Your heart beats so violently inside your throat that you worry it’s going to rip through the skin. 

You struggle to get upright again, still panting when you finally look at him again. He’s no longer smiling, just staring blankly at you while he waits for you to get it together. “So,” you start, voice a rough croak that has you gritting your teeth at the sound. “Still pining after Barb, huh?” His eye twitches briefly at her name but he doesn’t react otherwise. “You know,” your hands lower towards your boots but he doesn’t catch the movement. “From what I remember she was a fucking bitch. Maybe you should just move on, I heard she did, real quick.”

You’re goading him, trying to get him angry again. You’re not sure it works until he lunges at you. Your lips pull up in a cruel grin, hands shooting out before he can catch onto what you’re doing. Your knife, the one you keep strapped to your boot, is buried in his throat. You jerk the rope out of his hand as blood dribbles over his lips. His eyes are wide with shock as you smile up at him. You rip the knife out, mouth closed against the arterial spray that follows. 

You don’t have time to grab your bag or untie your wrists. Ghouls heal fast, faster than you’d like. You leap off the log, over his body, and take off through the forest. You’re careful not to trip, you’ve still got your knife in your hand and you don’t heal nearly as fast as him. All you hear is the gurgle of death as he chokes on his own blood, but the sound quickly fades the further you go. 

You risk a glance at your wrist, trying to get a better look at the map on your Pip-Boy but there’s no point. You won’t be able to find Lucy or a way out of this right now. The best you can do is run and hope you manage to stumble across her. 

You should have planned this out better. You should have done this in a way where you could have taken your supplies with you. As it was, you don’t think he was going to present many chances to you. You genuinely know nothing about where Barb was. It truly was above your pay grade and it was information she never wanted to share with you. You have a feeling she’d caught on to how you felt about her husband and wanted you as far from him as possible. 

Without this information to offer him, you were useless. There was clearly no love lost with him and you doubted he would keep you around much longer. You just needed to get out before he decided he really did believe that you had nothing to offer. 

“How do you like it?”

You glance up at Bud and give him a terse smile, he eagerly waits for your answer. You finish chewing and force down the driest piece of chicken you’ve ever had the misfortune of eating. “It’s good, Bud. Did you,” you hesitate to finish, worry it will come out bitchier than you mean it to. “Did you make it?” You stumble over the words, voice rising in pitch to try and keep the dislike out of your voice. 

He nods, sawing so hard into his own piece that the table shakes slightly. “Yep,” he pops the ‘P’ with a proud smile directed at you. He dips the chicken into some ketchup and you watch in awe as he pops it in his mouth. He seems completely unbothered by the lack of flavor and juices. This man should never be allowed in the kitchen again. 

Bud clears his throat and you brace yourself. It’s not uncommon for you to be at his place for dinner. Normally, the food has been cooked by a professional, but he never invites you over without a reason. You’ve been wondering why you’re here since you arrived. 

He placed his fork down on his plate and leaned back in his chair. He gives you a smile that’s meant to be disarming but only puts you further on your guard. Bud might be able to hide behind his goofy grin and facade of incompetence, but you see what really lurks under the surface. 

He’s just as greedy as everyone else in Vault-Tec. For fuck’s sake, he’s planning to have two vaults of people that are just there to be bred. He wants to create an army of micro-managers to efficiently rule the world. He would do anything to carve out a place for himself in the future. To make a name for himself. And just like any other man he wants his name to have weight, meaning, power. 

It’s what this whole experiment of his comes down to. A hierarchy of power that all leads back to him. The people in the two vaults, the cattle as Bud’s Buds have come to call them, answer to their overseers. The overseers appear to have final say in all decisions, but it truly all loops back to Bud. He’s created a world for himself where he is almighty, a practical god to those in the vaults. They’ll never even know that every decision they make, every happiness or low point they experience, has all been orchestrated by him. 

Him being Bud, the man with the least intimidating persona you’ve ever met. Maybe that’s how he’s made it so far. Everyone underestimates an idiot. 

“How has it been going with Cooper?” Even now there’s a pitch to his voice that betrays his excitement every time he mentions Mr. Howard. You know Mr. Howard wants you to call him Cooper, or, as he’s insisted, Coop. You can’t do it, though, everytime you call him by his first name you fall deeper into your crush. 

You can’t be blamed for it. You spend everyday with him, you’re by his side more often than you’re on your own. Anyone in close proximity to him that often would start to fall for him too. You’ve been trying to convince yourself it’s just guilt presenting in odd ways but you know that’s bullshit. You’re slowly falling for him and you feel awful about it. 

Everyday you’re getting closer to just blurting out the truth. But you know the consequences of that. Not only will Barb get rid of you, most likely kill you to keep Vault-Tec’s secrets, you’ll be screwing over Mr. Howard. If he learns about what his wife is up to, the sickness that lurks behind that pearly smile, he’ll never forgive her. He can kiss his place in the vaults goodbye. You’d be condemning the both of you to death. 

You need to rid yourself of this unfortunate crush. There are at least one hundred and twenty two vaults, and those are only the ones you know about. Who knows how many the higher ups are keeping from the rest of you? You’ll never see him again after this and you need to come to terms with that. 

“He hasn’t been asking me much about the company. I think he’s assuaged for now, I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this up, though.”

Bud sets you with a stern glare and you straighten up, face falling into a mask of indifference. “Why’s that?” The tone of his voice tells you he knows exactly why you’re struggling. But he wants you to deny it, to prove him wrong. You know Bud likes to look out for you, but he isn’t just flippantly providing you with a place in the world. 

This whole thing with Cooper is one big test. He only wants those who aren’t afraid of getting their hands dirty. Leadership requires sacrifice and sometimes doing things you don’t want to do. 

You shrug, “He’s a bit of a wildcard. Not as easily malleable as Barb made him out to be. I think she underestimates him.” You reach to take another bite of the chicken but change your mind at the last second and sip some water instead. It’s a weak attempt at stalling but Bud lets you have it.

“I have faith in you.” You glance down at your hands and Bud calls out your name, forcing you to meet his gaze again. “If anyone can do this, it’s you. I’ve never met someone more inclined to self preservation.”

There’s a glint in his eyes, an underlying threat to his words. You swallow harshly, grip tightening around the glass until you feel like it might shatter. If you mess this up there’s not going to be a second chance. 

You nod your head, “I’ll keep him under control. It’s not hard to leash a man when you’ve got something he wants,” the insinuation isn’t lost on him. He nods, picking up his fork and beginning to eat again. 

You can’t do the same, you’ve lost your appetite and it’s not because of his cooking. You’re not sure what Cooper will do to you if he ever finds out the truth but you know it won’t be pretty. 

He rolls over onto his side, hand peeling away from his throat and eyes widening at the glossy sheen of blood over the leather. “Fuck,” he hisses, testing out the damage done to him. Nothing too bad, just a hoarse voice that would probably work itself out within the hour. 

It’s not her stabbing him that has his blood boiling with rage. It’s the audacity she has to even attempt hurting him. He can’t know for sure whether or not she knew he would survive that. He has to assume she wouldn’t, there’s no way she’s met a ghoul before. 

Leaving him for dead once wasn’t good enough, she needed to kill him herself this time. Spiteful fucking bitch. She’d always been like that, it had just taken him too long to see it. Seems like he has a type, women who only ever look out for themselves. 

There was a look in her eyes, one he’s seen a million times before. She’s got a fight

 in her, the same selfish spirit that kept her alive for so long. God help anyone who gets in her way, she would always pick herself first. 

He rubs at the skin of his neck, wiping off the rest of the blood and laughing humorlessly. He wants to see that light go out. He wants to watch as she loses her fight. He wants to be the one that does it. Break her so thourhougly that she gives up all hope. And when she does, when there’s nothing left for her, he’ll set her loose in the world and let it have its turn ripping her apart. 

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.

How About a Nuke?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodbye, Cooper.”

He smirks, “Goodbye, darling.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wanted him to be different. 

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

“I fucking hate you. You know that?”

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

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

“Couldn’t do that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you know how pretty you look tonight?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cat got your tongue?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You wanted the truth.”

“Did you enjoy yourself?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Consider this the one exception.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

big bad wolf

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

a/n: inspired by the fact that Hugh Jackman thought wolverines were just a type of wolf and no one corrected him. Rusty because I haven’t written smut in a while so you guys aren’t allowed to talk any shit. Plus, I’m too much of a wimp to be like extremely explicit, but these prompts ( one, two, three) together were too good to pass up. 

SMUT 18+ (my slight monsterfucker tendencies might shine through in this one)

Summary: Logan's told you a million times not to take the path through the woods. You never listen, of course. Now there's a monster on your tail and you're all alone. (part of my Halloween Palooza)

You never should have taken this path. You knew it was going to happen, Logan had warned you, and you still didn’t listen. Now, you’re in the middle of the woods, completely turned around and on the verge of tears. God, why do you never listen?

You put your groceries down and pull out your phone. Through the thick spread of leaves, you get minimal moonlight. You’re surrounded by shifting shadows and rustling undergrowth. Everywhere you turn is a monster waiting to leap out at you. 

When you were little you were petrified of the dark. You hated the shapes you saw lurking within it. You’d outgrown that as an adult, but now, you can barely breathe as your eyes dart all around. The childish fear is returned with a vengeance and you feel like you’re about to have a heart attack. 

You flip open your phone, squatting on the ground and trying to conserve your body's warmth. The temperature must have dropped twenty degrees since you left the house. Of course, Logan had told you to bring a jacket too. Did you listen? No. 

You were only going out to get some chips and dip, you really didn’t think it would take so long. But then you’d got caught up talking to one of your friends and before you knew it, it was pitch black outside. You should have just called Logan at the store, asked him for a ride. Now, you’re staring down at the flickering screen of your flip phone and about to sob as you see the bars disappearing. 

“No fucking service, of course,” you hiss and shove the phone back in your pocket. The battery’s nearly dead anyway. You doubt it would have lasted long enough for a phone call. You run a stressed hand over your face, trying to calm your breathing down. 

You’re trying to trick yourself into thinking that everything’s okay. That the shadows are just shadows and you’re scared. Then you hear it. 

It’s a low noise, something out of your worst nightmares. There’s an immediate spike of adrenaline as an inhuman growl echoes through the night air. You swear you can feel it inside your chest. It rumbles through the animal, bursts through clenched fangs, and makes the hair on your neck stand on end. 

You glance over your shoulder, mouth parted in a silent scream. You don’t see anything, you can’t. You just barely make out the branches shifting nearby before you’re leaping to your feet. You almost call out, see whose there, but that feels like the last move every bimbo makes in a horror movie. 

So, you do something arguably worse. You abandon your groceries and purse and bolt. Immediately you can hear its pounding footsteps chasing after you. You do scream now, there’s no point in swallowing it down. It’s like the terror is ripping through you, making you stumble over every branch and rock in your path. 

You know it's faster than you. You can hear how easily its keeping up its stride behind you. This feels like a game to it. It's just teasing you, dangling freedom in front of its prey before it closes its drooling maw around your neck. 

You trip over an enlarged root and go flying forward. Rocks scrape across your arm and you let out a short shriek of pain. The flesh tears easily on the sharp points and the metallic scent of your blood fills the air. It comes to a sudden stop a few feet away from you. There are no thoughts in your head besides the voice screaming at you to RUN!

It tells you to keep running. If you stop it will catch you and it will kill you. This is no longer a product of your imagination. This is real and it is hungry for you. You scramble to your feet, boots slipping along the muddy forest floor. You dig your fingers into the earth, feel the dirt slide under your nails, and launch yourself forward. You nearly flip your feet over your head but you manage to keep yourself steady. 

You can’t hear the steps behind you. The beat of your heart pounds through your head, drives you forward, and discombobulates you all the same. Blood rushes so quickly beneath your skin that you can feel your vessels swelling with the warmth of your terror-fueled adrenaline. 

You’ve never felt so inferior before, like a rabbit desperately trying to escape the hungry jaws of a wolf. Your legs are moving faster than they ever have, you’re bounding, racing, leaping through the forest. You move through it like you were born in it, anything to escape whatever was following you. 

You no longer remember the way home or what home is. You can only focus on right now. You don’t notice the dark shape running alongside you, or how easily it keeps pace. Not until it’s barreling into your side and you go slamming into the ground again. Your head nearly bounces against a rock but something slides underneath it, stopping the impact at the last second. 

Something rough grips at your face. You’re still blind, blood rushing so hard beneath your skin, you’re practically blind with panic. You bite down, taste flesh, and hold on until blood rushes into your mouth. The metallic tang of it is like poison against your tongue but you don’t let go. 

“Release!” He orders you like a dog. His voice is so thick with anger and hunger that you barely recognize it. But something clicks in your head and you unlock your jaw from his palm. “The fuck have I told you about taking this path?” Again, his voice is so thick with volatile rage that you barely register it. 

“Sorry,” you sob out, shoving at his chest and scrambling to sit up. But he keeps you pinned to the ground, one hand clamped tightly around your neck and the other pushing down against your stomach. You can feel something hard against your thigh but you pay it no mind, still struggling to catch your breath. 

You take in deep, heaving, gasps of air and the moon shifts overhead. It gives you just enough light to see Logan clearly now. You nearly choke at the sight of his face. His lips are peeled back, sharpened points of teeth causing blood to bead along his lower lips. His beard seems scruffier than normal and there’s a golden glow to his eyes. 

“What the fuck?” You stutter out, glaring up at him. You’ve seen him angry before. But you’ve never seen him quite so animalistic. “Logan?” You whisper his name hesitantly and it only makes him look more pissed off. You shrink back, though there’s not far to go with him holding you like this. 

His hips shift down and you bite down on your lip so a pathetic whimper doesn’t escape you. His head tilts curiously, gaze raking over your heaving chest and then down to the too-short shorts you’d put on earlier. 

He gives you a look of astonished disbelief, “You fuckin’ kidding me?” 

The hand on your stomach drifts down to the waistband of your shorts. Your eyes widen when you realize what he’s trying to do. “Logan, wait-” Too late. He rips the shorts down your legs and his eyes widen. The sneer of his lips finally melts away as he sees the clear wet spot in the middle of your underwear. 

You don’t even get a chance to defend yourself before he’s gripping your hips and flipping you over. Your hands struggle for purchase on the slippery rock in front of you. You try and glance back at him, but he buries a hand in your hair, tugging harshly, and forcing your face forward. 

“Logan, please,” you whine, thoroughly humiliated as he sits behind you, silently examining your battered form. You’d tripped more than you thought while you’d been running from him. The adrenaline has just barely waned enough for you to feel the bruises forming. But he has no sympathy for your plight, if anything your tears seem to egg him on. 

“What have I told you about taking this path?” You bite your tongue, a sudden refusal to answer raging forth. He’s got you half-naked on your hands and knees after chasing you through the woods. You shouldn’t have to be scolded like an imbecile on top of that. 

He leans over you, the weight of his body pushing forward, your arms strain to keep you both up. You grit your teeth, still keeping your mouth clamped shut. He chuckles, the noise so low you feel it rattling through you rather than hear it. “I could hear you.”

His hand drifts down your bicep, wraps around your front, and rests over your breasts. “Could hear how fast your heart was beating. It’s still about to come out of your chest.” You suck in a sharp breath, keeping yourself from arching into his touch.

His nose lingers against the side of your head, dipping towards your neck and inhaling deeply. Your face wrinkles in confusion as he practically smells you. “I can smell how terrified you were.” His hand suddenly jerks your head back and you can’t help but yelp. There’s a smirk on his lips as he finally gets a noise from you. 

You can feel the desire practically dripping down your thighs at this point. All you can think about is how powerful he is. How hungry he is for you. You want him to devour you, completely wreck you. 

He releases you and without his support, you slump forward, neck bowing awkwardly. You try and right yourself but one of his hands grips your neck so tight you can feel the blood rushing up into your face. He pins you there and the only warning you have of what he’s about to do is the sound of his belt buckle coming undone. 

He thrusts into you and your jaw drops. You inhale the dirt beneath you and it tastes remarkably like blood. He pushes your cheek further into the ground and you grunt as tiny little pebbles have their taste of your flesh. 

Had you not been so wet, you doubt you would have enjoyed a second of this. But, because his chasing you down like something feral made you more aroused than you have been in months, you let out a pathetic moan beneath him. It borders on the thin line between pain and pleasure. But each rough thrust inside you blurs the line until they’re indiscernible from one another. 

Your fists curl up, mud sticking in the lines of your palm as he takes you like you’re nothing more than a toy. You shouldn’t like this, shouldn’t like how used you feel. But you relish it. Relish in how crazy you make him, to the point that he’d lose his mind and use you like this. 

He’s like a fucking animal. Taking what he wants from you with no concern or care to whether you like it or not. He’s panting and grunting behind you, you don’t understand the insults spewing from his mouth because there’s blood rushing in your ears and you feel like you might pass out. 

The adrenaline and residual terror from earlier are building into one explosive moment inside you. Your fingers tremble with it, your limbs burn from the volatile feeling and you can’t help the noises being forced out of you.  It doesn’t take much longer for you to combust. 

Pleasure rushes through you, makes you numb to the world around you. A dulled tickling feeling rushes through every part of you. Your arms go limp and he’s quick to wrap a hand around your waist, keeping you upright. He presses into your lower back, arching it until he’s hitting the spot inside you that causes aftershocks of painful pleasure. 

Your core throbs as you pulse around him. Sucking him deeper until his hips come to an erratic stop and he spills inside you. You keep your forehead pressed to the cool earth beneath you. You never actually managed to catch your breath before and now it just feels like you’re five seconds away from hyperventilating. 

A soothing hand runs up and down your spine, he curls around you and helps you to sit up. His voice is a low whisper, “You alright?”

You close your eyes, taking in a deep breath and giving him a shaky nod. He laughs and pulls you to stand up. Your legs were limp from running earlier, now they’re practically boneless. He keeps you propped against him and pulls your shorts back up. 

He buttons his jeans and straightens. His eyes narrow as he glares down at you. He cups your chin, tilting your head to examine the scratches on your cheeks and tutting at you. His fingers tighten to the point of pain and he jerks your face up to meet his eyes. “You gonna come down this path again?”

After that, yes. You completely would. He sees the look on your face and rolls his eyes. He leans down, tossing you over his shoulder and groaning. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“You like it,” you taunt, tugging at his shirt for balance. 

He shakes his head but you know he’s smiling. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Same time next week?” You tease as he goes back for your groceries and purse. 

“Don’t push it,” he snaps. 

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

General Taglist: @evasmlp ♡ 

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

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

Teaser for the next chapter of The End of the Beginning:

Your eyes are locked, something old and familiar swimming in both of them. You used to be ashamed of this feeling he brought up in you. He was a married man after all and you were just his lying assistant. You were never supposed to be attracted to him. You’re certainly not supposed to be attracted to him when he looks like this. But despite how much he’s changed, he’s still got that Cooper Howard charm.  He doesn’t drag you forward roughly. He guides you further into him, tilting your chin up and leering down at you with that angry grin. His hand glides around the back of your neck- The head drops to the ground with a wet thud as your hands fly to the rope on your neck. He’s grabbed the back of it, tightening it so hard you’re sure you felt your eyes pop out. The smile on his face is gone, instead it’s replaced by an intensely concentrated look. His eyes are boring into your own, taking in every twitch and gasp as he watches you struggle for breath.  You dig at your neck, feeling warm wet blood bubble under your nails the more you rip at the rope. Your fingers go cold and your tongue swells as the pressure in your face increases until you think the skin will burst. The eye contact doesn’t break between you, darkly intimate as he takes in every detail of your slow death by his hand. 

</3

I AM JUST THE SAME AS THE ANON WHO GOT READY TO READ THE RECENT CHAPTER!! I scroll through the cooper x reader tag every day and when I saw this update… I knew I had to wait til I got in bed for the night and cozy up to read it! And it did not disappoint whatsoever!!

Amazing chapter as always, I really hope they make up and make out in the end :’) I can’t wait tos we what you have in store

I am honored to be a fic you need to get cozy for. I have so many in progress fics I’m stalking on here right now that I need to get in that mindset for.

I feel like such a success lol

Also, thank you for the well wishes. I think I’m starting to feel better so I can spend more time editing this chapter yay!

wicked influence

Poly!Ghostface x fem!reader

a/n: I’ve wanted to write for Scream for forever and have never gotten around to it. Well, it’s slasher season baby! I finally have my reason. (When I tell you that this movie was my sexual awakening as a child, I mean it. That’s not necessarily good, but it’s true. )

Summary: Visiting a Halloween carnival with your two best friends doesn’t seem that bad until you reach the haunted house. You’ve never been able to explain your fear of demons to anyone before, you have no idea where it comes from. But you do know, going into a hell themed house with teenagers screaming shitty Latin at you is one of your worst nightmares. You think everything’s okay until, suddenly, your nights are filled with visits from a strange shadowy entity and you don’t recognize the look in Stu’s eyes anymore. (Part of my Halloween Palooza)

“Hey! Demons are a perfectly rational thing to be afraid of.”

Billy scoffs and rolls his eyes, nudging you further toward the haunted house. “Alright, alright, would you calm down and just move it.” You stare into the gaping jaw of the devil that serves as the entrance to the house. You know this is all just a way for people to make a quick buck. 

There’s not going to be anything in there except teenage actors and shitty SFX makeup. But that doesn’t make the looming doorway any less menacing. It doesn’t make your heart stop racing or your breathing any easier. 

Billy frowns as some people shove past you all, tired of waiting for you to move inside. They cut the line and you can’t help but be grateful. Your nails dig into your palms until you feel the warmth of blood and have to swallow down bile. 

Stu and Billy both lean towards you, varying looks of confusion on their faces. “Holy shit,” a grin breaks out on Stu’s face and he smiles widely at you. “You’re terrified, aren’t you?” He pokes you like you might be a statue, unmoving and solemn. 

You stumble back and are effectively broken out of your terrified stupor. You swat at Stu’s wandering hands and glare at him. “Shut the fuck up,” you snap. But in your anxious state, it all comes out as one jumbled mess. 

Billy lets out a disappointed sigh and gives you a funny look. “Alright, let’s just go. You’re not going in and it’s stupid to just stand out here all night.” Stu opens his mouth to argue but Billy shoots him a sharp look. You hate how sensitive they think you are. You can handle one stupid fucking haunted house. You’re not completely useless. 

Still, you practically gulp as the Devil’s eyes bore into yours. You feel like your soul is being sucked out through your feet, leaving you startlingly cold. “I,” you clear your throat, waiting until it feels strong enough to speak. “I can do this,” you grit out, sounding like you’re trying to convince yourself more than them. 

Stuf lets out a brief chuckle and Billy throws his elbow into his gut. Stu doubles over dramatically and you can’t help but laugh a little. Billy gives you a raised brow and you nod your head. “I just need a little nudge,” you mutter, glancing back at the house. 

Stu grins and creeps behind you. “I got you babes,” he tells you in a ridiculous voice. You barely have a second to process what’s happening before he’s lifting you up and practically tossing you inside. Immediately, there’s a fake chainsaw in your face and a screaming Bubba Sawyer. You stumble back with a gasp, falling into Stu’s open arms. 

“How’s that for a nudge?” Billy mutters as he brushes past you. You grab onto the back of his shirt and follow behind him. He glances over his shoulder at you with a knowing smirk and continues forward. None of the scares get him, but they get you. 

The actors catch onto that. They also catch onto how fake and dramatic Stu is. Half of them target you for a good scream and the other half avoid you because of how obnoxious he’s being. You can already tell how bored BIlly is. There’s not enough gore in here for him. 

He needs more blood splatter and fresh corpses, while you’re pleasantly surprised by the contents of the house. You’d really been dreading the demonic themes, but it seems like that’s not a huge factor. So far it’s just a few overzealous teens and some spiders on a string. 

Sure, it’s still scaring the bejeezus out of you. But there’s a difference between a quick scream and a deeply rooted phobia. 

You don’t know when this supernatural fear of yours began. Maybe your parents let you traumatize yourself with the crucifix scene in The Exorcist too young. But you know it’s been with you nearly your entire life. 

You think you’re safe, that you can just relax and let yourself have fun, then you reach the final door. The lights are flickering so hard you think you might have a seizure, but you can see enough to know what’s before you. A red, rotted door, with three upside-down nines barely hanging onto it. 

“Oh god,” you whisper and you think the boys can’t hear you. But then you feel Stu’s hands suddenly clamping around your neck and you leap into Billy with a shrill scream. Billy flinches away from the noise, turning to glare at you. 

Stu doubles over, laughing his ass off at your expense and grinning wildly at you. “Jesus, we’re not even in there yet. What is wrong with you?” He says it like a joke but you can hear the truth of it lingering. It stings, the slight cruelty in his tone. 

There’s nothing wrong with being afraid of something. Fear is healthy. The absence of fear is idiocy. You shove past Billy and turn to Stu with a mean glare. “I’m going to go in here and when I get out, I’m fucking leaving you.”

You shove the door open and take a step inside. You put on a brave face for about five seconds before you turn to see if they’ll follow you. You see just a glimpse of them before the door creaks closed. Billy is leaning against the wall, watching you with a half-amused expression. But Stu looks odd. 

That doesn’t even seem like the right word. His face is completely devoid of any emotion. He looks expressionless and you’ve never seen Stu like that before. Whether it’s for good reason or not, he’s always making a face. Right now, you don’t even recognize him. Were it not for the outfit he was wearing you would think someone else had snuck up behind Billy. 

The door is closed before you can call out to him and you find yourself plunged in complete darkness. There’s no noise for a long few moments. You can’t tell which way is the door and which is the exit. 

At first, you worry you went in the wrong direction and entered an empty part of the house. A sudden cackle breaks through the air, and you leap forward, stumbling into the wall. You can already feel your heart beginning to race. Even though you can hear the static of a speaker and you know, deep down, that it's fake, you’re frozen in fear. 

There’s a brief flash of light, just enough for you to see torn wallpaper and upside-down crosses. And something standing in the corner. “All alone?” A voice rasps and you whimper, pressing yourself up against the wall. You can’t tell if your eyes are open or closed, it’s too dark to know. You hope they’re closed. Whatever’s about to happen is going to traumatize you, you just know it. 

A door creaks behind you just as the lights begin flickering on and off. Through brief flashes of illumination, you see something running towards you. They’re screaming Latin at you, water hits your face and you begin screaming uncontrollably. Footsteps pound towards you, egging on the racing beat of your heart. 

A jarring grip lands on your shoulder and you swing out wildly. Your fist connects with something hard and you hiss in pain. There’s a brief pause where the only thing you can hear is your panting. 

“Ow!” Someone snaps, an irritated raspy voice. The lights flick on and you squint against the sudden glare, blinking rapidly to try and lessen the burn on your eyes. 

Billy and Stu stand on either side of you, astonished looks on both of their faces. A teenage boy in a shitty priest costume and red face paint stands before you. He’s rubbing his eye and cussing at you. “You fucking punched me!”

“You ran at me!” You yell back immediately, glaring at the little asshole. “I don’t think you’re supposed to touch me.”

He glares at you through one eye and points to Stu and Billy. “I didn’t!” He shouts and you flinch back, grimacing. “Your fucking friend did.” You clench your eyes shut, taking in a deep breath. Both you and Billy turn slowly towards Stu. His face is as red as the kid’s as he struggles to contain his laughter. 

“Unbelievable!” You snap at him, slapping his shoulder roughly. He jolts, narrowing his eyes down at you. 

“Hey!” He protests, “I was joking around. You’re the one that punched him.” He points the blame to you and you can’t argue. You did, technically, punch him. But it’s Stu’s fault. If he hadn’t snuck up on you, you would have just kept on screaming. You never would have touched the kid. 

In awkward silence, you walk the boy out of the haunted house and buy him a cold drink to press against his steadily swelling eye. You can see purple shining through the fading paint and grimace. He throws himself down on a wooden picnic table and sighs forlornly. 

“Thanks a lot, lady,” he mutters bitterly. Stu’s lips twitch as he watches the kid tug at his costume. You glare up at him and shove him away. He stumbles behind the table shooting you a sharp glare. You’re taken aback by the look. 

It’s not like you’ve never gotten a little pushy with him before. His love language was manhandling. But the look on his face is unrecognizable. You’d thought you’d imagined it earlier, how off he had seemed. But it’s not fake now. You’re looking it clearly in the eye and you can’t deny the truth of it. 

“I’m gonna sue,” the kid grumbles and you’re snapped out of your stare-off. You try and shake off the chilling feeling of unfamiliarity but it’s nearly impossible. You’re still wound up from the haunted house, you’re sure you’re just imagining things.

Billy shoves his shoulder and the kid falls back onto the table. “You’re not suing.”

He puffs his chest up and glares at Billy, “I could.”

Billy places his hand on the table, leaning in on the kid’s space until he’s flinching back. You avert your eyes, uncomfortable with the sudden display of dominance. Yet, you don’t stop him from bullying the kid out of a lawsuit. “You won’t,” Billy tells him, a clear threat. 

The kid gives a shaky nod of his head, but Billy still doesn’t let up. There’s a slight curl of malice to his lips, you glance over to Stu for support. His attention is rapt upon Billy, something like hunger in his eyes. You feel like you’re watching two lions corner a gazelle, you can practically see the boy’s hands trembling from fear.  

“Alright,” you clear your throat and tug Billy back by the shirt. He resists you at first and you know he only backs off because he wants to. It’s not for you. You look at the boy and give him a weak smile, “I really am sorry,” you can hear Stu laughing behind him and roll your eyes. The kid takes the drink off his eye and glares at you. 

“Yeah, whatever lady. Why don’t you take a valium or something and chill the hell out?” He gets off the bench and brushes past you, shaking his head. You glance down at your fist and hiss at the pain shooting along your fingers. The skin of your knuckles is split and aching from hitting him. 

Billy huffs out a laugh and takes your hand in his. “Really got him, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t mean to,” you argue petulantly. 

Stu finally collects himself and rejoins you both, throwing his gangly body on the wooden picnic table. “Why don’t you tell his face that?” He practically snorts, looking down at your hand and then laughing all over again. It’s really not that funny. Even Billy looks confused by his boisterous nature. 

He’s a dick, but this is a lot. You and Billy exchange a confused glance before looking back at Stu. But he’s silent now, already staring back at you both. Again, chills go up and down your arms at the empty look in his eyes. His lips are smiling, but his eyes are devoid of anything. 

“Maybe we should just go home.” You suggest, trying to keep the suspicion out of your tone. “Carnival’s a bust,” Billy exchanges one last look with you before nodding. 

“We still doing movies at Stu’s?” You desperately want to say no. Right now, all you want is to get as far away from him as possible. Earlier, with them and the kid, that’s normal. They’ve always had a bit of a mean streak when it comes to people weaker than them. 

The way his eyes are boring into you right now is anything but normal. You’ve never felt quite so uncomfortable near him, but you can’t ignore the feeling. Every primal instinct of survival is screaming at you to run, but you can’t. You can’t say no. All you do is nod, tongue glued to the roof of your mouth. Stu’s eyes brighten slightly at your words, but it’s still nothing compared to how it should be. 

You get ahead of Billy, not wanting to walk next to Stu. All you need is a good night’s sleep and you’ll be over this whole thing. Still, you can’t shake the feeling of too many eyes lingering on you as you make the trek to the car. The wet straw beneath your feet swallows the sounds of your steps and you try not to be discomforted by the quiet. It’s a carnival, where did all the people go?

The black-and-white static of the TV is the only thing to illuminate the room. It shines upon your face, makes it so you can only see in that square of light. You assume Billy is on the ground, passed out. And Stu is probably curled up in the overstuffed armchair. 

Yet, you can’t look. As much as you try to crane your neck, try and find some comfort in their presence, you can’t move. Your body is pinned down by a weight you can’t see, only feel. This isn’t sleep paralysis. It’s like being held down by someone stronger and bigger than you. 

You have no control over your body. You have no control over anything. Your breathing kicks up, coming in short panicked bursts. Your eyes roll around wildly, trying to find something, anything, to focus on. 

You find yourself depressingly devoid of any distractions. Until a shadow creeps along the ceiling. At first, you think it’s just your eyes playing tricks on you. Like when you stare at one spot in the dark for too long and start to see impossible shapes. 

But this is different. No matter how many times you blink or look away, it keeps moving. You whimper as it crawls over you. It dangles from the ceiling. You see nothing, only feel its eyes on you. There is no clear shape lurking within it, just malevolent malice. 

It drops down behind the arm of the couch and you open your mouth to scream, hoping to wake one of the boys. Nothing comes out but a strangled gasp of air. You struggle for noise but the more you try, the harder you find it to bring air in. 

Your eyes swim as you go lightheaded. You almost miss the tendrils creeping over the fabric of the couch. You almost don’t see it covering your feet. You wish you had missed it. You wish you just closed your eyes and never opened them again. But it’s like something is keeping those pried open too. 

You can’t feel your legs. That’s the weight. It’s not someone holding you down. Your body is completely limp. It’s as though your bones were replaced with metal, you’re sinking so far into the cushions they’re rising around you. Even your fingers are too heavy to twitch. 

You begin to feel it in your head, a sudden sinking feeling as it tips further and further back. Soon, you can only watch the shadow through your peripheral. Cold terror washes over you and fills your veins with something ill. 

It covers your legs like a veil, slithering on them. Your thighs shoot apart and the blanket goes flying across the room. You can only let out a choked whimper as it dives between your parted limbs. 

You shoot up with a gasp, sunlight peers through Stu’s living room windows, filling the room with much-needed warmth. You glance down, fisting the blanket and tugging it up to your chest in relief. Your heart is still racing and there’s sweat caked along your neck. But you can move your body freely again. It must have just been an awful nightmare. 

You glance to the side and nearly scream. Stu lounges in the armchair, Billy’s still asleep on the ground. Stu stares right at you, empty eyes, wide smile. “Good dream?” he inquires, but the tone of his voice tells you he already knows the answer. 

You swallow, fighting the sandpaper feeling of your throat and shaking your head. “No,” you croak, afraid to speak much louder than a whisper. 

His smile widens and you feel your head feeling heavy again. “I love a good nightmare,” he admits, like it’s an awful secret. He leans back in the chair and turns towards the TV, mindlessly flicking through the channels. 

With his gaze off you, you glance down and pull the waistband of your shorts down. You swallow down your tears and bile. Your underwear, like you feared, is gone. You glance towards Stu and narrow your eyes at the back of his head. You have an idea who took them.

Your parents are out of town for the week. Normally that means Billy and Stu infesting your home like pests. They’re being oddly evasive when you call, though. Not that you’re complaining. You haven’t been interested in being around Stu since the carnival. 

He makes you feel unsafe. As much of a dick as he could be, never, have you ever feared him before. But you do now. You’re terrified of him. Even thinking about him makes you want to get up and check your closets for unwanted intruders. 

However, as much as his absence is a relief, it brings with it its own problems. Nothing with Stu can ever be easy, can it? 

You keep having the same nightmare. Except each night it gets closer and closer. You feel more of it than you ever want to. They’re turning into uncomfortably sexual dreams. You wake up wet and without any underwear. You can’t blame Stu for that when he’s not even in your house, though. Which leaves you fucking petrified when you wake up. 

Because you know, deep down, you know someone wasn’t in your house. Something was, though. A heavy presence lingers over you during the day and makes you terrified to walk around the open spaces of your home. You’d lock yourself in your room all week if you could, but even that doesn’t feel safe. 

The door slams behind you and you jolt forward with a scream. You stare at your backdoor with a horrified expression, glaring at it like it might start talking and reveal its secrets. Your house is old, there’s nothing odd about doors occasionally closing on your own. 

Except, that hadn’t been open. You’ve kept it firmly locked all week, terrified of a possible home invasion. You need to stop watching scary movies on your own. 

You pull your knees into your chest, staring at your door until you’re satisfied it’s not going to slam shut again. Slowly, you turn back towards your TV and keep watching the only good sitcom you could find at this time of night. 

The second you let yourself get comfortable, however, you hear your bedroom door upstairs slam shut, followed quickly by rushing footsteps. Your eyes widen in terror and you mute your TV, glaring up at the ceiling and hoping you just imagined it. 

Footsteps behind you, running across the linoleum. You whip around, nearly shrieking when you spot something black darting into your pantry closet. You scramble for the phone beside you. You slam 911 into the keypad and press it against your ear, keeping your eyes riveted on the pantry closet. 

There’s a steady beep on the other end. The line’s dead. Someone cut your phone line. That’s okay. You can work with that. You can beat something real, but you’ve got no hope against something otherworldly. 

You stand slowly, unmuting the TV so the laugh track will cover your movements better. You creep towards your linen closet, reaching for the bat your dad keeps in there for this very reason. He’s got different weapons placed all over the house and you blame him for some of your paranoia. But right now, you’re eternally grateful for the protection it’s providing you. 

You slip into the kitchen, sliding quietly across the tiles on your socks. You position yourself behind the pantry door, your hand shaking as you reach for the handle. Just as you rip it open, the lights go out. 

You scream wildly, waving the bat around with as much force as you can, hoping to just hit something solid. Glass crashes against the floor and you feel the bat connecting with something. The lights flip back on and your mother’s vase is shattered along the ground. There’s no sign of the intruder and you think you might throw up when you hear more footsteps upstairs, two sets this time. 

But then someone darts through the living room, another flash of black before they’re gone. Three? How are you supposed to handle three?

Something titters behind you, bordering on a giggle, and you whip around, bat waving through the air recklessly. No one was there, no sign anyone was. And there’s no possible way for you to have missed them running past you. There’s nowhere to go or hide. 

You think of the shadow you’ve seen in the closet and the lights flicker like they’re agreeing with you. The thing that’s been haunting your nightmares, it’s in the house with you. The lights flicker again and your stomach drops to the floor. Your heart is in your throat as you hear your voice chanted from upstairs.  

It’s like staring at the Devil’s eyes at the circus again. You feel like there’s something being taken from you. You feel cold, empty, like you’re missing something you need. Something’s toying with you. Making you it’s twisted little plaything. 

You can feel the tears clawing their way up your throat. The call of your voice gets louder and louder until it feels like it's being screamed straight into your ears. You want to run, want to fight, want to do anything but stand here and you can’t. 

You can’t move. It’s just like your dreams. Your bones are metal and you are stuck. There’s a rough shove to your back, though you don’t feel physical hands on you. And then someone’s moving you, your legs are puppeteered as you’re directed up the stairs. 

You stub your toes on every step, crawling up them like a child learning to use them for the first time. Every time you slow down or try and stop, you’re dragged forward again. Your bedroom door creaks open and warmth carves its way down your cheeks. 

You stumble inside, the bat thudding to the floor as your hand goes limp around the handle. You want to call out to the entity, but your jaw is wired shut. You stand in the middle of your room, sobbing and terrified and completely alone. 

Your closet door slowly creaks open and you brace yourself for the worst. Billy comes flying out, shouting nonsense at you as you scream until your throat feels bloody. Stu follows behind him, ripping off his stupid mask and giving you a wide-eyed look. 

You crumple to the floor, covering your head and crying as you come down from the fear that you are being haunted. Stu kneels before you, hands gentle as they take your arms away from your head. 

He looks like Stu now. He looks like the boy you grew up with. His eyes are full of worry as he pushes wet strands of hair off your cheeks. “Hey, hey, alright,” he tugs you into his chest and you throw your arms around him wildly. You cling tightly to him, taking in heaving breaths and trying to find some comfort from his touch. 

“You fucking dicks,” you sob into his sweater. “I thought I was going to die.”

Billy scoffs as he stares awkwardly behind him. “Yeah,” he mutters bluntly, “I can tell.” He watches you cry for a little while longer before he gets irritated. “Hey, this was supposed to be fun. Would you lighten up?”

You suck in a deep breath, astonishment at what he just said temporarily stopping the tears of terror. You rip yourself away from Stu, ignoring the way his hands linger. “Excuse me?” You demand, glaring up at Billy.

He shrugs, “It was just a prank, chill out.”

You scoff, taking in a sharp breath and nodding your head. “Right, no, you’re right. It’s not like my friends used my biggest fucking fear against me!” You shout, shoving him backward. He stumbles into the corner of your desk and you glare at him and Stu. 

“You’re horrible fucking friends, you know that.” You storm out of your room and pause at the top of the stairs. They linger in your doorway. Stu looks like a kicked dog and Billy looks like he’s about to blow the hell up. 

“I don’t even know how you guys pulled all that shit off, but fuck you.” You give them both an astonished glare before shaking your head and going back down the stairs. “I hate you,” you scream, your voice shrill and full of uncontrollable rage. 

Billy almost follows after you, probably to give you a shit apology and then let everything smooth over naturally. But he stops, foot hovering over the top of the stairs. He glances back at Stu and frowns, “What the hell did you do?” Stu gives him a confused look and Billy glares. “She wasn’t supposed to be terrified for her life, fuckwad. What the hell did you do to her?”

Stu shrugs and gives him a too-wide grin and for the first time, Billy finds himself disturbed by his friend. “Magician’s secret man, cannot, will not tell.” He zips his mouth shut and tosses the key, winking at Billy. Billy gives him a disgusted scoff and follows after you. They can hear you ranting in the kitchen, slamming your drawers shut, and shouting vile insults at them. 

Stu watches Billy go down the stairs, his smile slowly fading from his face. Something dark passes over Stu’s face, something wicked, something unnatural. Perhaps it was all just a trick. 

Or maybe that kid’s Latin wasn’t so fake after all. 

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

I can’t for the life of me explain why, but I feel like Logan would have a heartbeat kink

Like his heightened senses allow him to hear and smell things better than the average man could, and I feel like him being able to hear his partner’s heart racing while he’s getting them riled up would turn him on as well in the process

Your mind is 💋💋💋

Made this: big bad wolf