Gosh I Freaking Love This So Far!!!! They're So Cute Omg 🥰🥰🥰

Gosh I've read so many fantastic fics today! The authors of AO3 and Tumblr are blessing me 🙏

AHHH reader got kidnapped (YAY), the drama is increasing, the plot is thickening, and the plot is spinning. I can't wait for more!!

You are amazing, thanks for this beautiful chapter, and Take Care! <3

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Sixteen

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R  Chapter Rating : PG

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smut and angst. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 4k

A/N : 😅😅😅

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE | CHAPTER TEN | CHAPTER ELEVEN | CHAPTER TWELVE | CHAPTER THIRTEEN | CHAPTER FOURTEEN | CHAPTER FIFTEEN

MASTER LIST

Chapter Sixteen

You tried to wipe away your tears but your hand was trembling too much, and the moment you heard the elevator moving it only got worse. In the three minutes that followed your brief conversation with Lissa, you’d changed your mind at least a hundred times and you were already practising all the ways that you might tell her that you didn’t want to leave after all. 

You didn’t want to go, you didn’t want to leave Billy, but you knew you had to.

That thought was what would carry you through this difficult moment. You didn’t want to hurt him, didn’t want to turn his life more upside down than you had already. This was best for both of you.

By the time the doors slid open and Lissa stepped into the penthouse, you’d managed to force yourself into a calm and detached state, not wanting to make it any harder than it needed to be. Your suitcase was at her side and on top of it was the outfit you’d been wearing when you arrived, neatly folded for you.

Lissa was silent for a moment, taking a measure of you but, somehow, you kept your nerve.

“You’re aware that once you do this you will not be able to change your mind?” She asked, finally, as if she’d decided that you were serious about it.

“I am.”

“And you’re aware that you will receive no compensation for your time?”

“I know,” you answered, forcing the words past the lump in your throat.

“Are you sure you have everything that you wish to take with you? Once you leave, there is no coming back.”

It was then that you realised that there was something you wanted, something that you just couldn’t leave behind.

You quickly excused yourself, half-jogging back to your bedroom, taking your clothes with you. After quickly changing, you found yourself looking at your bed, your heart broke knowing that you couldn’t take the large bear with you, but you grabbed the stuffed beagle, Bill, and clutched it to your chest, trying to ignore the tears that were starting to well in the corners of your eyes.

You took a minute before stepping back out into the penthouse and facing Lissa again. She gave you a curious look when she noticed the stuffed toy but didn’t say anything.

“There’s something I need you to do for me before I go,” you said, barely managing to hold her cold gaze, “I need Karen Page’s phone number.”

“Of course,” Lissa answered, giving a wave of her hand towards the elevator.

For a second you froze, not wanting to move, not wanting to leave. All you could think about was Billy and how heartbroken he’d be when he realised you were gone. Even if it was for the best in the long run, there was no way of doing this without causing him pain and you hated yourself for that. But it was better to hurt him now than spend decades at his side only to slip away due to age or illness.

“I take it you didn’t discuss this with Mr Russo,” Lissa offered, watching you as you finally took a step and started towards the elevator.

“No, I didn’t.” Those three little words conveyed far more shame than you would have liked.

“It’s not my place to ask why but -” for the first time since you’d met her, Lissa seemed to be thinking twice about speaking her mind, “- I was starting to think you might actually make it through the whole year.”

You knew what she was trying to ask; she wanted to know what happened, she wanted to know what he’d done to finally push you over the edge. You’d made it past the six months mark though, by this point, you’d broken pretty much all of the rules.

“I thought the job would be easier than it is,” was all you dared to offer as the elevator doors slid shut, trying to distract yourself by shoving Bill the Beagle into the top of your suitcase, leaving his head poking out.

“As far as I’m aware, Mr Russo has been happy with your service, perhaps if you were speak to him -”

“No, please, I - I just want to leave.” you abruptly interrupted, before struck with an uncomfortable thought. “Have you spoken to him?”

“No. Staying has always been your choice and it is not Mr Russo’s place to try and influence that decision. I will however have to inform him of your resignation the moment you leave the building.”

If you didn’t know any better, you might have assumed that she was trying to talk you out of leaving, as if she could see through all the bullshit and knew exactly what was going on. Dread coiled in your stomach at the thought of him hearing the news from Lissa. You’d at least hoped you’d be able to ask Karen to be the one to drop the bombshell.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t at least like to wait until morning?” She asked a moment later. “If you need somewhere to stay or tickets arranged, I could -”

“No. It’s fine, Karen offered me a place to stay if I needed it.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either; she had offered you a place, but you had no intention of staying there. 

The elevator door opened and you stepped out in the atrium. Lissa handed you your phone which, surprisingly, still had charge. (Perhaps she’d kept it charged so it would be ready in case you ever needed to leave.) Then she gave you Karen’s number and wished you good luck. 

You felt sick as you slowly started towards the doors, suddenly terrified of the outside world and a life without Billy. You didn’t dare look back until you were outside and your stomach nearly turned itself inside out when you saw Lissa lifting her phone to her ear. All you could think about was Billy, how angry and devastated he would be to hear that you were gone.

Your own phone was buzzing non-stop, alert after alert from six months of messages, voicemails, missed calls and social media notifications. It was almost enough to make you switch the damned thing off again.

Taking a breath, you called Karen, briefly explaining the situation, and asking her to meet you at the bar she’d taken you to before hailing a taxi. On the ride there, your phone started to light up with an unknown number, over and over again. Your heart threatened to stop when you realised that it must be Billy. The number appeared over and over, then the text messages started, pleading with you to answer, asking you not to leave.

Karen was waiting for you outside Josie’s when you got out of the taxi, her arms folded across her chest, and the look on her face was anything but happy.

“What the fuck is going on?” She asked, looking at you and then at the suitcase at your side.

“I’m leaving, I just wanted -”

“I know that part,” she almost snapped, “Frank told me. He says Billy’s worried sick.”

Again, you found your stomach knotting, suddenly feeling sick. Maybe it had been a mistake to want to see Karen, maybe you should have just left town.

“Does he know we’re here?” You dared to ask, hoping that he wasn’t going to show up and stop you from leaving.

“No. I told them I’d talk to you but that if you really wanted to leave, I’d let you go,” she said, not exactly sounding happy about it.

The relief you felt was palpable and Karen seemed to notice. For a moment more she just stared at you before finally relenting and ushering you into the bar for a drink. 

You sat at a table by the window, aware from the noisier patrons, your eyes moving to the door every time that it opened. Karen sat opposite you, cradling a drink and waiting for you to start talking and, eventually, you did. You told her everything - everything that Billy had told you and everything that had happened between you - and she quietly listened, barely holding back the growing confusion on her face until you were finally done.

“So you fixed things with him, slept with him, told him you love him, and then you snuck away the moment he left for work?” She didn’t sound impressed, and when she put things that way, you couldn’t blame her.

“I don’t want to hurt him,” you tried to explain.

“I think it’s a little late for that.”

“You don’t understand...” you tried again, “you didn’t hear him when he told me how scared he was of losing me, how I was going to grow old and die, and how he’d be left on his own.”

“You’re leaving him on his own now,” she said, stating the obvious and making you feel worse. “And what about your family? What’s the actual plan here?”

“I... I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I’ve got enough to get a bus ticket out of the city and then... I guess I’ll just see where I end up.”

“You know there’s only one place you can end up if you do this. If the Maggia are looking for you -”

“I know,” your voice broke, “but what choice do I have? This thing with Billy, I can’t let it get any deeper. I can’t do that to him.”

“What about -”

Her phone started to ring and your heart stuttered when you saw his name on the screen. You looked at her with pleading eyes, but it didn’t stop her from answering the call. Your gaze dropped to the table as she started to speak.

“Yes, she’s here with me, she’s -” you could almost hear him frantically speaking over her, “- she’s safe. Yes, I’m -” she stopped and looked at you. “He wants to talk to you.”

Despite the way you shook your head, Karen still held out the phone to you. You refused for a few seconds before finally taking it from her.

“Billy...”

“Please don’t do this,” he pleaded.

“I can’t stay, I -”

“Whatever I did wrong, I’m sorry.” He said, and the hurt in his voice caused your eyes to well with tears. “I - I love you. I should’ve said it back, I should’ve just told you that -”

“No, Billy, it’s not that,” you interrupted.

“Then what? Why are you doing this?”

“Because you were right. I don’t want to be a vampire and I don’t want to make you watch me grow old and die,” you told him, trying to stay strong.

“I’d rather have you for sixty years than just six months. Please, hummingbird, I know what I’m getting myself into, we can -”

“I kissed Matt.” It fell from your lips and caused Billy to immediately fall silent and Karen to glare at you. Your cheeks warmed and your stomach continued to twist and churn, and you wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

“What?” He finally asked.

“The night of the party, we kissed -” you sighed, “- I’ve broken all of your rules, Billy. All I’ve done since I’ve got here is cause problems for you and all your friends and I’m so tired of feeling like I’m in the way, like I can’t even look after myself.”

Your gaze was fixed on the table again, not wanting to see what Karen thought about any of this.

“No, you’re wrong. No one thinks that. I don’t think that. I can’t let you go. I won’t,” he tried to tell but all you could hear was your own heartbeat echoing in your ears, “I don’t care what you did. I’m coming to get you, I’m -”

“Goodbye, Billy.” 

Without further warning, you hung up, put the phone on the table and got to your feet.

“Where are you going?” Karen asked.

“You told him where we are, didn’t you?”

“What? You heard me talking to him, I never -”

“He said he’s coming to get me. I heard him getting into a car.” 

It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. Even though she’d always tried to be there for you, Karen was Billy’s friend before she was yours and you didn’t want to blame her for protecting him, but it stung. You’d wanted more time, you’d wanted to be able to say goodbye properly.

“Look, if this is really what you want, then I won’t let him take you back,” Karen told you. “But you should at least talk to him.”

“I just did,” you answered, hating how difficult this was becoming. “Please, just let me go. This is best for everyone.”

“Wait -”

“I’m sorry, Karen. I can’t,” you tried so damned hard to keep yourself from falling apart. “Please, don’t follow me.”

She tried to say something, but you didn’t wait to hear it. You headed for the door.

Stepping out onto the sidewalk, you almost walked into someone. Or, rather they almost walked into you.

”In a hurry?” 

The voice sparked a glimmer of recognition in you, a memory that you could only half remember. When you looked, your stomach turned itself inside out.

”Oh, so you do remember me?” Krista smiled, her hand wrapping around your arm. “Come on now, let’s not make a scene.”

At first you tried to pull away from her, but then her eyes caught yours and she spoke again. Everything around you seemed to melt away and, soon enough, it felt like Krista was the only other person in the whole wide world, and the only thing you wanted to do was whatever she asked you to.

”You want to come with me,” she told you, her tone soothing, convincing. “You want me to take you away from all of your problems. You want to be free of this whole mess.”

As much as you wanted to fight it, you found yourself stepping towards the curb, your suitcase and purse quickly abandoned as you were ushered into the back of a limousine before you came to your senses and realised what a mistake you’d made.

“I told you there was nowhere you could run that I wouldn’t find you,” he smiled at you as Krista closed the door behind you and watched as the limo pulled away from the curb, leaving you trapped with him.

***************************

He’d been staring at the clock for over an hour and, every time he looked away, he was sure it skipped back a couple of minutes. Frank was still talking. He’d been talking non-stop since he’d first walked in Billy’s office, starting with the boring financial stuff and then going on to trying to update him on a couple of Anvil’s on-going missions.

But Billy didn’t care about any of that. 

All he could think about was you, picturing you curled up in his bed, waiting for him to get home.

He was thinking about the way you’d moaned his name, how good it had felt to come inside you, and how much he was looking forward to doing it all over and over again.

“You even listenin’ to me?” Frank barked, jolting Billy from his thoughts.

“Yeah, Frankie, the senator wants security for his fundraiser,” Billy answered, resisting the urge to roll his eyes and affect a smart-ass tone about it. “And congressman Steven’s is -”

His heart threatened to stop the moment his phone lit up with Lissa’s name. He couldn’t think why she’d be calling, unless something had happened.

Had you been hurt? Were you sick? Panic and dread warred inside of him as he answered the phone, but nothing prepared him for what came next. He answered frantically, nothing giving her a chance to speak at first, asking if something had happened, if something was wrong.

Lissa explained the situation, telling him that you’d left.

Billy was beside himself at the news.

“You didn’t try to stop her?” He demanded, ignoring the look that Frank was giving him from across the room.

“My job is to ensure that the letter of the law is followed in these arrangements, you know I am not allowed to hold people against their wills,” Lissa answered back curtly. “I did, however, ensure that she had Ms Page’s number.”

“Karen? She’s gone to Karen?”

Mention of Karen suddenly had Frank’s attention.

Lissa started to say something but Billy quickly cut her off, thanking her for letting him know and quickly hanging up.

“The fuck’s goin’ on, Bill?” Frank asked, and Billy quickly explained.

“Call Karen, find out where the hell she is,” he told his friend, his desperation quickly prompting Frank into action.

While Frank tried to get through to Karen, Billy found your number on your employment records and started to call you, getting nothing but a full voicemail. Then he started to text.

Please, let’s talk about this.

Don’t leave me.

I don’t want you to go.

Why are you doing this?

Please, talk to me.

“Karen won’t tell me where they’re meetin’,” Frank sighed, “says she wants to talk to her first and find out what’s goin’ on.”

“Can we track her phone?”

“I’m not lettin’ you track Karen’s phone, Bill. You outta your fuckin’ mind?” 

“Damn right I’m out of my mind,” Billy snapped. “I can’t lose her. I’m not going to lose her. Not now.”

He kept trying to call you, kept sending messages, thinking over all the places that you might end up. Eventually, he tried calling Karen and was genuinely shocked when she answered. In the background he could hear the tell tale sounds of a bar; people talking, music, and the clatter of a pool table.

“Is she with you? Is she okay? Is she safe? Has she told you what’s going on?” Billy didn’t give Karen any time to answer. “You’re at that place in Hell’s Kitchen, aren’t you? The place with the pool tables - the one you and Murdock go to. Josie’s.”

And, a second later, Karen said yes.

“Put her on, let me talk to her. Please, Karen,” he pleaded. “I need to talk to her.”

He was already halfway out of his office when he heard your voice, and the conversation that followed caused his chest to ache. No matter what he said, you seemed set on leaving him, and Billy couldn’t let you. He couldn’t just give up without a fight.

He didn’t even realise that Frank was following him to the parking lot until you hung up on him.

“Don’t you dare try to talk me out of this, Frankie,” Billy warned as he got into his car.

“I’m just comin’ along to make sure you don’t do anythin’ stupid.”

It didn’t take long to reach Josie’s. You’d only been gone five minutes by the time he got there. Both men were rushing towards the door, hoping that, somehow, Karen had managed to keep you there, but Billy stopped in the street. Something caught his attention; an abandoned suitcase and purse by the curb.

“Bill, what’s -” Frank started, watching Billy veer off.

“This is hers,” he said.

“How can you tell?” 

His heart almost stopped completely when he tugged Bill the Beagle out of the case.

“I gave her this.”

Frantically, he started looking up and down the street, trying to figure out where you might have gone and why you might have left your things behind. It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense. 

He barely heard Frank muttering something about Karen before charging into the bar to look for her.

Billy tried calling your phone, only for it to start ringing in your abandoned purse and he knew that there was no way that you would willingly leave your things like this. There was no way you’d take the stuff beagle from the penthouse if you didn’t want it anymore.

His ears started to ring, a sense of panic filling him. He’d lost you. You were gone and he was pretty sure that something bad had happened to you. He clutched the stuffed toy to his chest as his vision started to tunnel.

You were gone.

You were gone.

“No,” he muttered, “no-no-no...”

He could practically feel the thing inside of him clawing and trying to get out. You were his and you were gone. Someone had taken what was his and he would tear down the whole fucking city to get you back

A hand on his shoulder pulled him back from the brink, but it didn’t stop him from snarling, from grabbing Frank by the collar and shoving him backwards, lashing out for the sake of lashing out.

And then he saw Karen.

“Where is she?” His tone was sharp enough to cause her to step back. 

A moment later Frank had him by the throat, forcing him back.

“Get your shit together,” he told Billy, keeping a tight grip while Billy thrashed against him.

“Where is she?” He snarled again.

“I don’t know,” Karen answered, holding up her hands in surrender, trying to soothe him. “But we’re going to find her, okay?”

Billy kept squirming, kept fighting against Frank, desperate to rip and tear and shred his way across the city until you were safely in his arms again. Frank shook him, pushing him back until he was pressed against his car.

“You’re wastin’ time fuckin’ about like this, Bill,” he told him, “you want to save her, then you’re gonna have to calm the fuck down an' think rationally.”

Part of Billy knew that Frank was right, but the noise in his head felt too loud. He forced a couple of deep breaths, knowing that he couldn’t help you if he couldn’t figure out where you were.

“Fine,” he snapped. “I’m fine. Let me go.”

Reluctantly, Frank let him go, but his eyes stayed fixed on Billy, watching his every move. Everyone knew that he wasn’t entirely back in control, but they all seemed to agree that they couldn’t waste any more time if they wanted to find you.

“What happened?” Billy asked, and Karen quickly recounted everything that had happened and everything you had told her.

“She asked me not to follow, so I didn’t,” Karen said. “I thought she was going to head to the bus station, but there’s no way she’d leave without her things, unless -”

She fell instantly silent, leaving both men staring at her.

“Unless what?” Billy prompted, his sharp tone earning him an equally sharp look of warning from Frank.

“She asked me not to tell you...”

“Karen, c’mon, she might be in danger,” Frank prompted before Billy could lose his temper again.

Karen sighed. “The guy that’s been claiming to be her fiance, he’s part of the Maggia.”

“What?” Billy dared to take a step forward, but immediately stopped when Frank tensed.

“Her parents owe him money. He wanted her as a partial payment. She didn’t want you to know,” She explained. “She didn't say a lot, but I know she’s scared of him.”

Billy felt sick. It felt like the world was spinning too fast and he was barely hanging on. All the little comments you’d made about not having a choice with this other guy slowly playing over in his mind. He had to get you back.

He had to kill whoever had taken you.

“How are we gonna find this prick?” Frank asked.

“I have an idea,” Karen offered, “but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

She reached into her purse and pulled out a business card, handing it to Billy.

“Agent Dinah Madani, Homeland Security?” Billy read out. “Why the fuck do you have some Homeland agent’s card?”

“It’s a long fucking story and we really don’t have time for it,” Karen answered.

End Note : Sorry to keep ending things on cliffhangers. I'm not entirely doing it on purpose (just mostly). Thanks so much for all the lovely comments on the last chapter, I haven't had time to reply to things yet I'll hopefully try to do that later. As I said last week, I've been busy this week so I'm really behind 😅 As always thank you so much for reading/liking/commenting/reblogging and generally screaming about all of Billy and readers bad choices throughout this. Hope you have a great weekend!!

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"Just Fuckin Peachy"

Pairing: Cooper Howard/Ghoul x F!Reader

Notes: I hope I did justice to your ask and you enjoy it! I had fun writing it and kinda thought the reader in this could be the reader from my series Runaway,but way after the series took time🫠 anywho enjoy da fluff!

Masterlist

Warnings: gore, language,hints of suggestive things,of course sexy cowboy

You have never hated bounty hunting more than you do now.

You and Cooper both have been fighting non stop the past week,against raiders and wasteland monsters, almost never ending. Since the bounty you both chose is somewhere in a dangerous area in the wasteland, hence why the caps for receiving said bounty was very high, you still dont feel its worth it. Having to go out in the more radiated areas, to kill some Raider leader to stop them from terrorizing a town not far from it. While also fighting gulpers, ferals and super mutants. You both are currently walking towards an abandoned factory,a place the raider group has been rumored to hold up in.

All while during all of this you and Cooper havent gotten any alone time,and its your 2 month anniversary together as a couple. You were hoping to treat him to the best dinner the wasteland can give,even doll up for the occasion. But then the bounty was put up and you both decided to go after it. I hope the pre war dress I found is still clean…. You think to yourself as you walk,hoping your stash and his is kept safe till you both get back.

“Penny for yur thoughts darlin?” You hear Cooper drawl beside you,not noticing hed been watching you this whole time.

“Just wondering when we'll find the leader.” You say with a forced smile,trying not to worry him.

Cooper stops and gently grabs your arm,making you both stop walking,looking down in your eyes. He can read you like a book,can tell something is on your mind, when youre worried,angry or upset. Eversince you both woke up this morning after a fitful sleep of being chased by some ferals,youve been distracted,not smiling as much. Its been gradually happening over the week,and its worrying him.

“You know i can read you like an open book honey,” he says softly,moving closer to you. “Whats goin on in that pretty lil head of yurs?”

You sigh in defeat,his eyes perceptive as always. You close the distance between you both and hug him,missing the way he feels against you. He wraps his arms around you,missing feeling you in his arms too after almost a week of no peace.

“Just miss you holding me is all Coop,stupid wasteland keeps throwing monsters and jerks at us,we cant even sleep without something happening.” You say muffled against his chest, frustrated at the world.

Cooper rubs your back soothingly,kissing the top of your head. “I know sugah, i know.” He says softly to you,soothing you and making you want to stay there forever in his arms.

“I swear Coop when we get back we are not leaving the house for weeks.” You say with a frown,looking up at him. “As payment for this stupid mission i demand it.

He looks down at you with a smirk,his eyes gleaming playfully. “When this is done sweetheart,were both not leaving the bed for weeks.” He says slyly,making your cheeks flush profusely at his sly remark,knowing full well what he means.

“Deal.” You squeak out,clearing your throat from the sudden dryness.

Cooper laughs at your reaction,pulling you closer,leaning down to catch your lips in a kiss. You start to lean in too, grinning up at him,eager to feel his lips on yours.

But as always something stops you both,and the reason now is a stray bullet that shot near you both.

“Oh for fucks sake!” You growl,the last bit of patience you had was gone from being interrupted again. You grab your gun and aim it towards where the bullet came from.

Even Cooper was pissed at the stray bullet,but you shocked him at your reaction that his non-existent eyebrows shot up at you. Shocked that youre so angry to cuss for one since you dont normally,and also finding it oddly very alluring to see you like this.

“Damn darlin, i ever tell you look cute when yur all angry?” Cooper drawls at you,grinning, pulling out his gun too.

“No you havent,and thank you.” You seeth out,not angry at him but at the raiders shooting at you both in the distance. “All i want is a kiss you assholes!”

You shoot back at them,running to a nearby building for cover,Cooper right on your heels. Seems the rumors were right about raiders being around here,which means you both arrived at the right place. If you weren't so pissed off youd be cheering right now,close to the end of the mission,close to being alone with Cooper again.

“You think the leader is inside Coop?” You ask, firing off a shot at a raider,clipping their arm and making them cry out.

“He better fuckin be,” He says as he shoots down two raiders. “I count about 20 of 'em out there, think you can handle a couple darlin?” A cocky smirk spreads on his lips, challenging you,making you smirk back.

“I can handle more then a couple cowboy.”

You both charged out,guns a blazing,back to back and the perfect team. Raiders all around the factory,on the roof,and on ground level all got taken down by you two. Not one bullet grazed either of you,Cooper cant help how proud he is by how amazing youve gotten at fighting.

“You about to make me go feral with how beautiful you look right now,” Cooper says in a low gruff tone,looking you up and down hungrily.

“Im covered in blood and guts and you say I'm beautiful?” You laugh,wiping some blood and chunks of raiders off of you. If blood wasnt covering your face from a raiders head exploding near you,Cooper would see you blushing.

“Very much,” he replies,sauntering over to the main entrance doors, and kicking them open. “Ladys first.”

“And they say chivalry is dead.” You laugh,going in the building first,gun ready once more.

You and Cooper searched through the factory,taking some supplies along the way since no ones using them now. You notice this area of the factory looks unused in so long, making you wonder why none of the other raiders go in this side of the place.

“I dont like how this area feels Coop.” You say worried,gun ready for any sign if a threat.

“Me either.” He agrees,his gun aimed forward.

The place is dark and quiet as you both explore,using your pipboy for a light source. Once you come up upon a locker room you both see something glowing ahead,making your stomach flip when you recognize the glow.

In the middle of the room stands a couple of ferals,and a glowing one.

“Oh crap!” You exclaim as you try to shoot one,but you gun is empty.

Cooper starts to shoot them,taking them down fast,but the glowing one charges at you,knocking your gun out of your hand. You fall on the ground with it,it snarls in your face trying to bite you,claw at you.

“Get off of me!” You yell,kicking it back off of you,giving you a moment to grab your machete off your back.

It charges at you again,jumping you once more. But you land a hit to its head first,flipping you both over to where youre on top now. You keep hitting its head, angry at it almost biting you,almost killing you.

“y/n….you okay there sweetheart?” You hear Cooper say behind you,worried in his tone.

You didnt notice he had stopped shooting,having killed the rest of the ferals while you had bludgeoned the one below you.

“Just fuckin peachy,” you say sarcastically,yanking your machete out of the smashed face of the glowing one. Groaning in disgust as you notice a lot of its glowing blood got on you.

You stumbled up,breathing heavily,wiping the blood off your hands on your pants,turning to face Cooper who looks amused.

“And you say I have a temper.” He rasps out a laugh making you roll your eyes.

“You do,” you say frowning,picking up your gun with a huff. “Now lets finish this stupid mission.”

You both found a boarded up entrance in the next room,leading to the main area of the factory. People used this area for sleeping in,beds laid around,some behind makeshift dividers,and some in tents. You see on some fire pits human bones near it,making you feel sick at the sight of it,hoping never to have to go down that dark road.

After a bit of scavenging you both finally found where the leader was holding up thanks to Coopers great tracking skills.

Its a big room, a cafeteria from the looks of the tables and seats. In the middle of it sits a throne made of junk and scrap metal. You feel dread wash over you as you see the raider leader. Hes dawning a set of Power armor,and a giant hammer as their weapon by their side.

“So you must be the big shot leader around here,” Cooper says with a wicked grin,chuckling darkly. “Correction, was, since we just mowed down your whole team.”

The raider stands up from his throne,the armor clinking with his movements.

“Youre both gonna fuckin regret messing with me,” he says as he picks up his hammer,ready to charge at us. “Im gonna kill you both nice and slowly-”

While the man keeps talking Cooper looks over at you, looking bored from the man blabbing,you cant help but laugh at his expression.

“-whats so fuckin funny?” The man yells at you,caught off guard by you laughing at him trying to be menacing.

“You raiders say the same goddamn threats every time, hell we both thought with how tough it was to get to you,you wouldnt be so fuckin boring.” Cooper says, shaking his head,loading up his gun nonchalantly. He puts a strange shaped bullet into his gun, you cant help but wonder what the weird design of it does differently.

“Yeah, yall should think up some new lines “ i agree, honestly bored by how repetitive these raiders talk.

“Ya know what darlin, consider this the first gift to our anniversary.” Cooper says with a sly grin at you,cocking his gun.

He shoots the bullet right below the chest plate,making the raider cry out in pain and fall over, dead instantly.

You would be amazed right now if his words hadn't distracted you. You feel your heart flip happily, not knowing he knew it was your 2 month anniversary.

“Wait, you were planning something too?” You ask in shock,grinning.

“Course i was,” he chuckles,moving closer to you. “Two months ago you made me the happiest man in the world, why wouldnt i want to celebrate that?” He says softly,wrapping his arm around your waist.

“You made me the happiest woman in the world then too.” you say back,smiling warmly up at him, making him smile back just as much.

He closes the distance this time,knowing that there wouldnt be a chance this time of you both being interrupted,and kisses you. You both melt into the kiss,having not done so in awhile,wanting to savor how you feel to each other.

“Damn darlin,I missed those sweet lips of yours.” Cooper says in a gruff voice,his eyes looking into yours with lust. He loves how you look up at him,eyes blown like his,with just one kiss, setting you both on fire from it.

“I missed yours too Coop.” You whisper back,grinning up at him as you caress his face. He closes him eyes and leans into it,kissing your palm gently,making your heart flutter at his tenderness.

“Seeing as this big ol place is empty now,how about I give you another early gift sweetheart?” Cooper suggests in a deep drawl,pulling you closer against him,hands on your hips.

“God yes.”

💥⭐💥⭐💥⭐💥⭐💥⭐💥⭐💥⭐💥⭐💥⭐💥

You both lay in the large bed, that belonged to the Raider leader, content and happy. Embracing each other after a long passionate day together,making up for lost time. You trace patterns onto his bare,scarred chest,feeling at peace in his arms. You both enjoyed the stash the raiders had after your “gift” exchanging time. Drinking some nice whiskey,some chems and even some food too.

“I so glad they had this bed,i dont think i couldve waited longer.” You admit sheepishly,making Cooper chuckle as he drinks more whiskey.

“Me either darlin,this last week has been hell to us both.” He sighs,tracing circles on your bare hip.

“Yeah, but at least we got a lot of caps now to last a while.” You yawn,cuddling closer to him with a sigh. “Hey coop?”

“Yes sweetcheeks?”

“I love you.” you say with a warm smile, melting his heart at the sight,making him smile right back just as warm.

“I love you too darlin.”

Hope yall enjoyed!🫡 This is my first ask yayy!

Now I feel so awful that Bea is definitely going to die omg. Author why did you have to make the couple so lovable 😭

Also I love the way you wrote this chapter with the narrator acknowledging that these two obviously aren't going to be together forever, with a mix of foreshadowing and saying it straight up. It's a really cool way to write this story and I'm so excited to see more!!

One question I have is if Rosalie and Y/N's romance is going to be during the Twilight timeline? Or before it?

Thanks for the wonderful chapter author!

Bound | Chapter 5

Word Count: 2.3K Warnings: queer harassment

Summary: Rosalie always carried the resentment of not being able to fulfill the image of the perfect family she had in her head. But the universe had set out to grant her everything she could’ve hoped for in the most unconventional way and in the form of a witch. Can their love withstand the promise of forever or will Rosalie and (Y/N) succumb to the grapples of time?

A/N: oh, oh, I'm falling in love with a pairing that will not work out... I know I'm the writer, but, damn. I am breaking my own heart here. 🫠🫠 also, two chapters in one day, wow

<- Previous

There would come a day when (Y/N) didn’t have Beatrice Porter by her side. There would come a day when she wouldn’t be able to roll over in her bed and find the onyx-black strands of her hair splayed over a pillow or kiss her eyelids as they fluttered in sleep. But in 1935, she didn’t know that. 

In 1935, she still believed they had forever. At least as long as forever could be in their human lives. And because she didn’t know, she was able to live in the absolute bliss of being with her best friend. 

As she brushed her hair out of the tight coil of the curlers she wore to bed, (Y/N) smiled at the sleeping figure of Bea on her bed. The sun had barely started to shine through the curtains, basking her pale body in the warm light of its rays. Her shoulders peeked through the white sheets, rising and falling with the evenness of her breaths. She was a vision of beauty that (Y/N) had been lucky enough to witness. 

By the time the witch was putting on her earrings, Bea stirred from her slumber, a lazy smile tugging at her lips. “Good morning,” she croaked. “You look beautiful.” 

“Hm, I was going for smart,” (Y/N) chuckled. “Is it the necklace or the hair?” 

“It’s your face,” the girl smiled. “You could play hooky, you know. Spend the day with me rather than at the university.” 

“A rather tempting offer,” she said as she walked toward the bed, crawling to Bea. “But I’m too close to graduating now. I’ve already had to argue with enough men who believe that higher education is no place for a woman.” 

“Well, in that case, give them hell,” Bea smirked. “I suppose I should do my own studying then. I do have a test this week and have gone to three classes at the most. I just don’t see the point if I’m going to stay here. Magic doesn’t require human schooling.”

“But the coven does need to change with the times. We need to strive for better. For bigger,” (Y/N) explained. “Living in the woods is amazing, but it keeps us secluded. Alienated. We need to find ways to blend in with society. Hide in plain sight. That’s the key to survival.” 

“You’ve always had great plans for the coven. You will make a wonderful High Priestess one day.” 

“One can only hope,” she sighed contentedly. “But for now, I can do my part in gaining more knowledge of how the outside world works. Find a way witches and other supernaturals can live amongst humans undetected. There may not be as many, but you know there are still people out there that hunt our kind. I mean, just last week, we received word of a coven in Louisiana being burnt down by so-called Modern Witch Hunters. We’ve learned to hide, but clearly not well enough.” 

“Cruelty will always be an incurable sickness in humans,” Bea grumbled. “People in high school taught us that early on.” 

The memory made (Y/N) grimace. They hadn’t done anything wrong. Stood by their respective lockers, the two girls had simply been talking and decided to sneak a soft caress. (Y/N) had only brushed a stray ringlet of hair that had fallen over Bea’s eyes. But her fingers had lingered too long, and their stare was a little too intense. A pair of boys had been walking down the hallways at that precise moment and had decided that what the girls were doing was too queer for their liking. 

Deeming (Y/N) as the instigator, they had snatched her and carried her to the nearest dumpster while calling her a slew of slurs and insults. All this while Bea cried and begged them to stop. It took everything in them both not to use their powers, knowing the punishment for using magic with humans was magic binding for an undetermined amount of time. 

As the lid closed above her and the smell of trash engulfed her, (Y/N) promised never to show an ounce of affection to her friend outside of the protective confines of their coven. There, no one questioned or talked in whispers –although some eyes did follow them at times. But it was nothing like the treatment they endured outside. A couple of stares here and there was nothing like finding dead animals stuffed in your locker, or being unable to walk down the street without being accompanied by a big enough group, or having to stay as far away from your best friend as possible because you don’t know who will attack you for what they believe. 

“You know, Annabeth is leaving in July,” Bea said, changing the topic as she saw how it upset (Y/N). “She was accepted to the University of Tennessee. She says there’s something about the state that calls to her, but I don’t understand why she would go so far. There are enough good schools nearby.” 

“Well, she’s setting her own path,” (Y/N) smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind Bea’s ear. “Your sister has always been quite the free spirit.”   

“That she is,” she chuckled. “Momma is going with her to help her settle in and everything. She also wants to make sure she’s comfortable with the coven over there.” 

“Would you go with her if she asked?” 

“And leave you up here all alone?” the girl scoffed. “Wouldn’t even think about it for a second.” 

“All you’d need is a big enough body of water, and you could come here anytime.”

“Are you suggesting that I leave, (Y/N) Carmine? Do you not want me here?”

“Oh please, don’t even say that. But she is your sister, Bea,” (Y/N) laughed. “You could at least pretend to ponder over the idea. Your family has always been so close-knit.”

“She’d understand,” Bea shrugged with a mischievous smile. “I’ve got something special here.” 

“You’re bad,” she grinned before kissing the girl’s temple. “And I’m going to be late.” 

“Fine,” Bea conceded. “I’ll let you go as long as you bring me some doughnuts.” 

“Of course. I wouldn’t dare come home without them.” 

“Good,” she beamed. “Then, I guess you can go.” 

It was simplicities such as those that (Y/N) reveled in. She may not have been allowed to hold Bea’s hand in public or even say how much she loved her, but she had their home. Behind those four walls, they were able to simply exist. No labels to concern themselves with, no judgment, and certainly no harassment. 

As the day trickled by and class after class passed, (Y/N) couldn’t help but have her mind divided between her education and the girl waiting for her at home. Everything reminded her of Bea. The black fabric of the chairs she sat on was the same color as her hair, the blue of the sky matched perfectly with the iciness of her eyes, and the smell of the town’s bakery reminded her of the girl’s favorite treat. 

There was nowhere she could turn that didn’t remind her of Beatrice, and there was no one on Earth she could love more than her… at least, that’s what she believed at that moment. By then, she had no idea her soul was bound to an immortal, nor that her life would go on after Bea passed one day. At that moment, she knew only of the fleetingness of life and the importance of living in the present. There was no way for her to know how fleeting those moments were when eternity came into play. 

For now, she enjoyed every second she had in the life she believed was passing.

She was coming out of the bakery when she was met with Russell Morgan, a witch from their coven who had always been kind and concerned over her and Bea. She knew he’d always had his eye on Beatrice, leaving flowers and trinkets on their porch for her. Though he understood the relationship the girls shared, he couldn’t help the affinity he held for the young witch. And none of it bothered (Y/N). Bea had made her choice, and it had been her. 

“Hello, Russ,” she smiled as he matched her pace, knowing he was escorting her home without mentioning it. “How was your day today?” 

“Can’t complain,” he chuckled. “Just making it through this last semester. Hoping I hear back from med school any day now. That’s been the most stressful thing.” 

“I’m sure you’ll get in,” she said. “You’re brilliant, Russ. They’d be lucky to have you. And you know New Forest witches seem to do well in medical school.” 

“Well, we do have a certain je ne sais quoi,” he laughed. “And, uh, how’s Bea been recently? I haven’t seen her as much in lessons.” 

“You know her. Most days, she doesn’t even want to get out of bed,” she smiled. “But I’ve already made a deal with her. For every day that she attends lessons, I’ll bring her a new pastry from the bakery.” 

“That will definitely get her there,” Russell chuckled. “And Margaret won’t be angry at her.” 

“Oh, Margaret’s a big softie at heart.” 

“She really is. And uh, are you two still…” 

(Y/N) knew he wouldn’t get the words out. He never did. “Yes. Bea and I are still,” she chuckled softly. “Don’t think that’s changing any time soon.”

“Well, not that I’m not happy for you two, but a man can only hope,” he said as his cheeks grew red in slight embarrassment. She knew he meant nothing by it and also understood the pull Bea held. “I do hope for you years of happiness. Even if the world hasn’t caught up to different kinds of love.”

“I know, Russ. And I am grateful for your wishes and your friendship. I know one day you’ll meet a woman as wonderful as you.” 

“I sure hope so. Mom is on me about giving her grandkids already. Apparently, the two kids my sister has already given her are not enough.” 

“No amount will ever be enough,” she laughed. “But she might be closer than you think, Russ.” 

And neither of them had any idea how true the statement was. 

Back at the house, the smell of fresh bread and beef stew filled the air. The scent alone made (Y/N)’s stomach grumble, knowing the flavor would be even better than the smell. The dinner table was already set, complete with a set of flickering candles. 

“What’s the occasion?” (Y/N) smiled as she kissed Bea’s cheek. “Everything looks so beautiful.” 

“Do we need an occasion to have a candle-lit dinner?” Bea said. “I just felt like it. Especially since you brought me some of my favorite doughnuts.” 

“Maybe I should bring you doughnuts every day.” 

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that,” she grinned. “And if they’re sugar doughnuts, even better.” 

“Do you really think I’d bring you any others?” 

“Better not,” she laughed. “But I just wanted to do something nice for you. Because I love you, and you deserve it.” 

“You’re the best, Bea,” (Y/N) beamed. “I love you more than the moon loves the sun.” 

With a flick of her hand, music filled the kitchen, and their bodies swayed to the rhythm that played through the radio. They swirled through the room, forgetting the stew that bubbled on the stove and the candles that were melting on the table. But they didn’t care. All they cared about was the fact that they were happy, they were healthy, and they were together. They filled a house with love and joy, and that seemed enough. 

“Do you think there will ever be a way we could have kids?” Bea asked absentmindedly. “I know it couldn’t really happen naturally. But maybe adopting.”

“I don’t think that could happen, Bea,” (Y/N) sighed. “At least not us together or even as single women living together. The world isn’t ready for that, darling.” 

“Oh, what a tragedy,” she sighed. “You would be a great mother.” 

“As would you, Beatrice,” the witch smiled sadly. “Is that something you really want? Children, I mean.” 

“Well, it had always been my dream to have a big family. Little ones running around, a home, someone to grow old with,” she admitted. “I just thought it was the normal way life would move toward.” 

“But I can’t give you all of that, Bea,” (Y/N) sniffled. She stopped their swaying and rested her forehead against Bea’s, a thin stream of tears falling down her eyes. “I can’t give you everything you’ve dreamed of.”

“Well, darling, I don’t want any of that if it’s not with you,” she assured. “I am perfectly content with just having you for the rest of my life.” 

“I want you to have everything you’ve ever dreamed of, Beatrice. I don’t want you to settle just for love. What if, one day, you wake up and realize that love isn’t enough for you? That kids and marriage is what you wanted all along.” 

Bea smiled warmly then, cradling (Y/N)’s face and wiping away the tears that stained her cheeks. “And what makes you think that your love is not enough?” she cooed. “I would wait a thousand years if it meant I got to live my life with you. Children are never a sure thing. Even if I married a man, there is no certainty that I could fall pregnant. But, with you, I know there is love. That is certain, and that is what I need.”

She sealed her words with a chaste kiss to (Y/N)’s lips, slipping through her mouth all the love she felt for her best friend. It was a promise of a future together, a promise of forever. But how could they have known that forever would not have been long enough? That the end of their forever was just around the corner. 

“Now, why don’t we sit and eat already?” Beatrice smiled.”I’m starving.” 

“Alright then,” (Y/N) said. “Let’s eat, and cheers to forever then.” 

“Cheers to forever.”

My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts  or buy me a coffeeto support me and my love of writing If you’d like to be tagged in this or any other story: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post!

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Absolutely pumped for this story!!!

Love, Sick Love

Sneak Peek

Plot summary : Working at one of the shadier bars in Brooklyn, you have one rule; don’t mess around with the patrons. Most of them are criminals, dangerous. None more so than Billy Russo, but Billy believes that rules are made to be broken. Especially your rule. One lapse in judgement is all it takes for Billy to decide that you’re his, and he’s never been the sort of man to take rejection well.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] This whole story will deal with dark and smutty themes, including but not limited to stalking.

A/N : It felt weird not to post something on a Friday, so here is the first 1000 words of my next Billy fic. At the end I've put a more exhaustive explanation of the themes and potentially triggering content that might come up during the course of the story so if you're not sure if this fic is for you, I recommend checking that out. Anyway, I'm super excited for this one and I hope to have the first chapter up on the 6th of September. (I'm also testing the tag list with this post, if you want to be added let me know!) .

Sneak Peek

“So, how was your date?”

You were barely through the door when the question was mercilessly thrown your way, the few patrons drinking the afternoon away in Sam’s lifting their heads to glance your way before quickly losing interest. Thankfully, they didn’t care how your date had gone the night before nearly as much as your co-worked Jenna did.

Sam’s wasn’t exactly the sort of place where people cared to get to know each other. The bar had a reputation, the kind of reputation that regularly had cops posted outside the door, waiting to scoop up patrons at closing time, though they rarely dared set foot through the door. And that was why it suited you just fine. Aside from the occasional drunk thinking he might be lucky enough to get in your pants, people didn’t care who you were or where you were from, a courtesy you were more than happy to return.

So, while there was a snicker or two around the bar, no one but Jenna was interested in your love life.

Or, lack thereof. 

You shrugged off your jacket as you made your way around the bar, hanging it along with your purse in the small staff room before heading out to start your shift.

“So, it didn’t go well then,” Jenna stated, eyeing you up and down as you stepped out of the back.

“Hi Jenna.” You said in an overly forced, perky tone, clearly avoiding the question. “How are you, Jenna?”  

“Wow that bad?”

You’d often thought to yourself that Jenna would be better suited working for the FBI instead of tending bar; she knew how to get people to talk and she had a dogged tenacity when it came to things she wanted to know. But, fortunately for the criminal element, Jenna was only interested in gossip, bitching, and information that could be used to her advantage. She was your closest friend and a constant pain in your ass for all of the above reasons.

“Is it that obvious?” You finally relented, giving her a slither of what she craved.

The look she fixed you with was more than enough to answer the question.

“You’re wearing your fuck-me boots and that’s never a good sign,” she said with a knowing grin, obviously impressed with herself. “Wasn’t it the third date? Don’t tell me he left you high and dry...”

All it took was a slight look of disappointment on your face for less than a second for her to have the whole story.

“Oh - oh, okay,” she said and for a single, solitary second, you hoped that she’d drop it. But, of course, she didn’t. “So, how bad are we talking?”

“It wasn’t bad,” you answered, turning away from her, acting like you were checking stock, “just... disappointing.”

“He didn’t make you come?” She asked, loud enough that anyone close enough could hear. Fortunately you weren’t easily embarrassed. “I thought you said he was a doctor? Isn't he supposed to have a good grasp of… anatomy?”

Your eyes rolled as you threw her a glance over your shoulder.

“He’s a physiotherapist, not a gynaecologist.”

Not that that distinction made it any better. Disappointing sex was disappointing sex at the end of the day.

“Are you gonna see him again?” Jenna asked, biting back a laugh.

“And waste another evening on unappealing sex? No thanks. I think I’m just gonna swear off men,” you sighed dramatically, barely holding back a smirk.

“Or,” Jenna started, really drawing out that one little syllable, “maybe you need to stop only going for the safe guys and expecting Captain America to give you what you need.”

Your cheeks heated a fraction as you burst into laughter. It was a good thing that no one who could overhear understood that Captain America was what Jenna liked to call the dildo she’d bought you as a prank secret Santa gift last Christmas on account of it being a red, white and blue, unlicensed Captain America sex toy that claimed on the box to be an exact replica of Steve Roger’s dick.

It had become a private joke between the pair of you, though you’d never dare admit to her just how much mileage you’d actually gotten from the toy.

“Seriously, you need to lower your standards and find a guy who’s willing to just fuck your brains out,” Jenna continued, still utterly oblivious (or perhaps just indifferent) to the half dozen men trying to enjoy their drinks within earshot. “We could go to that biker bar just off the highway again and -”

“Aren’t we barred?” You asked. “Or, more to the point, aren’t you barred?”

“That’s what makes it more fun.”

Again, you rolled your eyes and, finally, you had a look around the bar. It was still quiet, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. As soon as it started getting dark out, the place would be packed, wall to wall.

That was when you noticed him, sat at the end of the bar, slightly hunched over and with no drink in front of him. You looked to Jenna and gave a nod in his direction, and she shrugged in response, leaving you to deal with him. If he’d overheard any of your conversation with Jenna, he didn’t seem interested. For a moment, you hung back, not wanting to interrupt whatever was going on in his head but, finally, you forced your customer service smile to lips and made your approach.

“Hey, what can I get you?” You asked.

When he looked up your heart stuttered. His face was littered with scars, but they weren’t the cause of the violent pounding in your chest, in fact, after first glance you barely noticed them. No, it was his dark eyes and the way he looked at you, the way he looked through you. For a few seconds you dared to believe you might drown in his gaze (and that maybe you’d enjoy it).

Content and general warnings going for this whole fic : while I’m going to put appropriate TWs at the start of any chapter that require them as usual, I wanted to give a general overview of what this fic might contain so people can make an informed decision whether or not to engage with this fic. If you are uncomfortable with any of the following, please consider not reading. Ultimately this is a Dark Romance and will contain themes like stalking and intimidation. At no point will it contain non-con perpetrated by Billy on the reader character, however there will be moments of unwanted kissing and physical contact, but it won’t get any worse than that. There will be explicit smut (we’re talking rough and dirty) and Billy’s actions/behaviour at times will be pretty gross. And there will be non-graphic discussions/allusions to non-con and murder, with regards to character’s pasts (i.e. Billy’s assault by Arthur) later on in the story. 

At its heart this is going to be a dark and toxic romance and it should go without saying that I don’t condone this sort of behaviour in real life. If you do not enjoy or feel you will be triggered by the aforementioned themes, please give this fic a miss.

(I'm just testing the tag list, but if you want adding/removing let me know!)

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Percy, in the middle of battle: goddess, save us all.

Someone: don't you mean gods?

Percy: nope. Most of them are unreliable. I only pray to Hestia, and when I asked she said that she preferred she/her pronounce.

Loved this chapter, and the way you wrote May was so fitting for her character! I could vividly see her saying this to someone questioning Spiderman. Fantastic job, take care, author!!

Trust Me- Chapter 4

Masterlist

When Matt arrived at the address Frank had sent and noticed a rapid heartbeat, he was more than a little worried. Apparently that heartbeat came from a man who went by the name “Micro”. Micro was clearly not excited to be here. He sat on the far end of the room, surrounded by computers and Matt could hear his muffle breath, probably wearing some type of mask to hide his face.

“Let’s get started, yeah?” The man said, eyeing the way Frank was making himself at home, disassembling his handgun and beginning to clean it. “You’ve got a name for me?”

“Peter Parker, high schooler in Queens, friends with a girl named MJ.” Matt was prepared to continue when Micro began to speak.

“Found him. Peter Benjamin Parker. Race: White. Height: 5’10. Age:” he gave a low whistle “sixteen, on the younger end of sixteen. Family: Richard and Mary Parker, deceased. Was taken in by his Uncle Benjamin Parker and Aunt May Parker, Ben is also deceased.” The man muttered as he leaned into the computers to get a better look. “He lives with May now. She works twelve hour shifts in a hospital working as a nurse.” 

“What’s his school life look like?” Luke asked from where he was leaning on a wall.

“Umm, he’s smart. He goes to ‘Midtown School of Science and Technology’; which is a super expensive private school. He got in on scholarship after getting a 99 cumulative grade on the entry exams. Only one other kid got the scholarship, super competitive entry…at least for those who can’t afford to buy their way in.”

“His friend?” Jessica drawled.

The clicking of Micros keyboard continued, “There is no “MJ”. But, there is a Michelle Jones-Watson that goes to his school. African-American, 5’3, sixteen but turning seventeen later this year. Uhhhhh, her father was in the air-force, her entire dad side of the family has some history of being in the military. Mom is an immigrant from the Dominican Republic, no siblings. She is the other scholarship kid, and scored a 90." He turned in his chair to look at the vigilantes. 

“When does the kids' aunt get off of work?” Frank asked, whipping his hands that had been smeared black from his gun with a rag.

“7am, so nine-ish hours from now.” 

Frank leaned back, “Let’s all kill some time and meet up in Queens at 6:30. We’ll wait for his aunt to get into their apartment and then go have a chat.”

A loud choking noise came from Micro, “Let me suggest that someone other than you and Daredevil go be the ones to talk to her. Respectfully, it's not exactly… thrilling to have vigilantes and mass murders ambush someone at their home.” he said, staring hard at Frank. 

“If I’m not going I need you to give us something that’ll let me hear and see everything.” Micro opened his mouth to argue, “Either wire us up or I’m going in. I’m not leaving this alone.”

Micro’s chair squeaked quietly as he turned, apparently thinking it over, “I have a small camera with a mic that one of you can wear but I want it back.” he said, speaking with more strength than Matt expected him to be able to speak with. 

“You’ll get it back.” Frank swore.

“...Fine.”

-------------------

The Parkers lived in one of the several apartment buildings in Queens. The area was not a good one, Matt kept veering off course to stop crimes which caused him to show up last of the group. The vigilantes were unnervingly serious. There was no banter, Jessica wasn’t drinking, Luke's leg wouldn’t stop bouncing and Frank just kept loading and unloading his handgun. The steady click-click click-click click-click was starting to drive Matt insane but he was stopped from yelling when he heard a simple conversation begin.

“Peter! You’ve gotta leave or you’ll be late”, the sound of a body hitting a wall was clear, “Don’t break through the wall to leave though. It’s not that serious.”

“Ha ha ha, you’re hilarious. You should quit being a nurse and become a stand-up comedian, I’d support you.” 

“She’s home, he’s leaving.” Matt reported, catching the attention of his fellow vigilantes.

He heard the boy say goodbye before giving his aunt a short hug and barreling out the door. From there he focused on the woman. Her heartbeat was steady and her footsteps were heavy as if she were dragging herself around. “We should go in thirty minutes to give him some time to get out of range.”

They waited, every second feeling like an eon, before Luke stood up saying, “Time’s up. Let’s go.” The group had decided he and Jessica would go to speak to her as they were the least intimidating out of the four, thanks to Jessica’s low(ish) profile and Luke’s reputation as a beloved hero. Jessica had the camera attached to her jacket and Matt and Frank sat around the tablet connected to it, eagerly listening to the impending conversation.

The two slipped into the building and knocked on the apartment given by Micro. “Oh, so you’re who he was warning me about. Come on in.” was what they were greeted with when the door opened.

After sharing a look they walked in, “Warned you?” Jessica asked.

“Why don’t you explain yourself first, yeah? You were the ones who came to speak to me.” May spoke as if it was a genuine offer but the implication was clear that she wasn’t going to tell them shit until they said what she was looking for. 

They watched as the woman walked over to the kitchen table and sat down continuing to eat what looked like…Fruit Loops. They looked at each other again and after debating silently Luke said, “We wanted to talk about your nephew.”

She stared at them expectantly, “What about him?”

“He’s Spider-Man.”

For a long moment nobody spoke or moved, “God dammit. If this stupid thing froze, I’m going to give him hell.” Frank swore from where he and Matt sat on the roof across the road.

Before he could continue to threaten the life of Micro they heard, “What does that have to do with you?”

“Excuse me?” Luke and Jessica said unanimously.

“What does that have to do with you?” May asked again. When they didn’t respond she continued, setting down her spoon, “See, here’s what I think happened/is happening and feel free to tell me I’m wrong. But from where I’m sitting it looks like you found out -somehow- that he is Spider-Man. Then went out of your way to find who knows what information and then came here to tell me that he is Spider-Man, as if I don’t already know.”

“I’m going to go ahead and assume - for my sanity and your safety- that you did this out of concern. But now that you have told me, this is what’s going to happen: you are going to get rid of any and all information you have on Peter, me and anything else you have in relation to us; then you are going to leave us the hell alone.”

“You’re just going to let him keep going?” Luke asked judgmentally. “You’re okay with the messes he’s putting himself into?”

May sat back in her chair and crossed her arms, “Have you ever raised a toddler?” 

The vigilantes didn’t respond. 

“Or an elementary schooler or a middle schooler or a highschooler or really any child, ever? No. No, I didn't think so. So let me put this into perspective for you. I love Peter. I raised Peter.  Watched him grow into the person he is now. That person has abilities no one else has. That person has a heart bigger than he knows what to do with. That person will not look away when he knows there's something he can do.” 

She took a breath, “I don’t love it. In helping others he is putting himself in danger and everytime he comes back hurt a part of me dies inside, but this is who he is. He will put others before him and he is too strong for me to stop him. I literally couldn’t stop him if I tried. And believe me I tried.” she gave a soulless laugh. “But really, none of this is any of your fucking business. He is my kid. Mine. Not yours, not anyone else's. And my kid has been given an impossible situation and now he is managing as best as he can. And that is all I can ask of him.”

“But what-”

“I’m not done.” May said cutting off Jessica. “That’s all I can ask of him…you though. I can tell you to stay out of his way. You have no place in this conversation. You don’t like that he’s Spider-Man? You want him to stop? Too fucking bad. If he won’t stop when I ask him to, he sure as hell isn’t going to when you tell him to. And good fucking luck trying to force him to stop, he is stubborn and strong and smart like no other and he will just embarrass you, so step away now.”

Frank slumped against the wall they were sitting on, “I fucking knew it.”

“Oh congratulations, Frank. You were right, the sixteen year old isn’t going to stop throwing himself off buildings.” Matt mocked.

“Shut the hell up you-” 

May interrupted him from where they were watching the scene on the tablet, “Do you have anything else you want to say?”

“How do you sleep at night?” Jessica asked, looking at the woman who was so accepting of the fact that her nephew may die at any moment.

May gave a small smile, “I don’t.”

--------------

“What now?” Micro asked.

“I don’t know about you all but I’m going to keep an eye out for him and give him my number.” Frank said, pulling out a box full of bullets and magazines from under the table he was sitting at; he began to load the magazines ignoring the groan that came from Micro.

“Please stop leaving your weapons here.”

“No.” 

“Give him your number then what?” Luke prompted, sounding tired.

“Tell him to let me know if he needs anything.” 

“You really do only care about kids and dogs, huh?” Jessica asked.

“Yes. Listen I have some business I have to deal with in Queens, which means that the kid will also be there. I’ll give him a burner with all of our numbers. I’ll tell him to call me if he needs anything and that he should only call you guys if there’s an emergency. Is that fair?”

The group was in agreement and as Matt began to leave the building he heard Micro tell Frank, “Give him my number too. I completely understand what May was talking about, and I know you do too. He isn’t that much older than my kids and I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep knowing that I didn’t at least try.”

Always Waiting for You

Pairing: Sam Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings/tags: 18+; fluff, pining, friends to lovers, slow burn, angst, canon typical violence, eventual smut, use of pet names & nicknames (no y/n)

In the beginning you'd been content helping your grandmother run Springwood, the quaint bed and breakfast she had owned and ran for most of her life. You'd grown a fondness for Springwood over the years, already having long since known your grandmother wished to eventually pass the bed and breakfast onto you. But the more you got to know the curious Winchester brothers every time they sporadically turned up to rent rooms, the more you'd begun to long for a little something more in your life. You soon found yourself becoming close friends with the brothers–even after finding out what they really did–and you easily found yourself falling for Sam. But the pair of you only ever remained close friends as the years passed by despite you always secretly holding onto the hope that he'd someday finally stop trying to protect you from himself and his life.

Installment List

1| First Meetings {Coming Soon}

Ahhh the slow burn is rough with this one 😭😭

Poor reader, geez! But also... The ghoul turns around and suddenly the reader is missing, lol.

I knew what they were as soon as that nasty dish was in front of us. What else would be in that!?

Fantastic chapter, and I am on the edge of my seat! Can't wait to see more.

From A Previous Life (Pt 3)

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Preg!Reader

Summary: You rush to the Ghoul's aid, but find that hospitality doesn't come cheap in the wasteland.

Warnings: Emotional hurt/comfort, pregnancy, talk of cannibalism, mention of child loss, canon-typical violence, blood, angst, grief, yearning, rejection.

Word Count: 8.8K

A/N: This is late! I'm sorry this wasn't finished last week, but it took me a while to get the ending to a place where I was happy with it. Part 4 coming up next! I'd love to know what you think 💌

Part 1 | Part 2

In the weeks that followed, a palpable tension thickened the air, suffusing every moment with a sense of unease. The Ghoul, ever cautious and seemingly intent on minimizing any unnecessary interaction, forwent sleep altogether. Instead, he adopted the role of a silent sentinel, perched upon whatever seating deemed acceptable as he watched over the entryways of your temporary shelters. There he would remain, a solitary figure in the dim moonlight filtering through shattered windows, his hat pulled low over his ghoulish features, shrouding them in shadow.

As you lay awake, restless and watchful, your gaze was repeatedly drawn to him, silently pleading for him to abandon his post and join you in the refuge of your shared space. Still, he remained steadfast, his bed beside you still empty and unused by your departure the following morning.

During the days, you travelled in silence under the relentless glare of the blistering sun, each step bringing you closer to your elusive destination. You would pause occasionally, your keen eyes scanning the barren landscape for any sign of abandoned treasures that could be sold for a fine price. Each discovery was accompanied by a hopeful glance towards your companion, a silent plea for approval. More often than not, his response was a grunt or a dismissive shrug, leaving you to carry the weight of your excitement and disappointment alone.

He had truly reverted back to the aloof and distant man he had been before that fleeting moment of connection shared around the crackling fire—the night he had gifted you the Pip-Boy. It had felt like a heavy reminder of the vast divide between you, a symbol of the distance that must remain for your child's safety.

The internal struggle waged within you relentlessly, tearing at the fabric of your resolve as you walked alongside him. On one hand, the instinct to protect your child, to prioritize their safety above all else, pulsed through your veins like a guiding light. But on the other hand, an undeniable longing stirred within you, a selfish desire to throw caution to the wind and reach out for him, to seek the comfort of the companionship you had felt briefly.

You remembered the warmth of his arms briefly wrapped around you, the intimacy of talking freely together like you had done that night by the fire. The memory tugged at your heartstrings, igniting a fierce longing that threatened to overwhelm your senses. And despite your best efforts to bridge the conversational gap, to break through the walls he had erected around himself, he remained stubbornly distant.

The silence between you grew more pronounced with each passing day, a distinct barrier that seemed to stretch endlessly between you. You couldn't help but feel a sense of resignation settle over you. Some divides were simply too vast to bridge, and perhaps, you thought with a heavy heart, yours and the Ghoul's were among them.

It wasn't until one particularly hot mid-afternoon as you battled against a relentless radscorpion that had sprung at you from beneath an overturned refrigerator in that evenings shelter, the Ghoul's patience reached its limit. With a single, precise shot from his magnum, he dispatched the giant arachnid before turning to you with a sour expression.

"Outside," his voice commanded, firm and unwavering.

You followed behind him obediently, watching in silence as he collected the empty Nuka-Cola bottles scattered on the porch and lined them up along the railing. Once satisfied with his work, he turned to you and nodded, signalling you to follow him. Together, you descended the steps and moved further away until you reached a spot that provided a clear shot at the makeshift targets.

You eyed him cautiously, uncertainty gnawing at the edges of your resolve as you waited for his next instruction. But when his gaze settled expectantly on the gun holstered at your hip, you knew what you were to do. With quick hands, you fumbled to unholster the weapon, your fingers closing around its familiar grip as you prepared to face the challenge that lay ahead.

Despite the sweltering heat and the sweat that trickled down your brow, you squared your shoulders and raised your weapon, determined to prove yourself to the Ghoul—to show him that you were capable of holding your own beside him. And as you took aim at the makeshift targets, a sense of determination surged through you. Today, you vowed, would be the day you proved yourself worthy of his respect.

Pulling back the hammer, you let out a shaky breath as you pinched the trigger. The shot rang out, reverberating through your body like a thunderclap as you felt the recoil jolt through your arms. Taking a step back to steady yourself, you lowered the gun and peered ahead at the targets, your heart sinking as you realized that all five bottles remained stubbornly intact, mocking you from their perch.

A sense of annoyance bubbled up inside you, mingling with the disappointment that weighed heavy in the pit of your stomach. You heard the Ghoul sigh from his spot to your right, where he leaned against a a utility pole with his arms crossed.

"Again," he said, his voice carrying a hint of exasperation. "And keep your eyes open this time."

His words jolted you out of your reverie, pulling you back to the present moment with a sharp clarity. Despite the simmering frustration within you, you nodded in acknowledgment, steeling yourself for another attempt with the gun raised.

"Feet further apart," he instructed, his tone firm and authoritative. Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and adjusted your stance, grit crunching beneath your boot. You heard him tut, then suddenly felt him beside you. His heavy boot kicked at the inside of your own, widening your stance even further. His gloved hands pressed against your shoulder with a firm tap, guiding you into position before withdrawing just as quickly. "Again."

As the Ghoul moved back to his post, you steadied the gun out before you, pushing down the giddiness that surged through you like a current. It was an unexpected sensation, sparked by the lingering heat left behind by his brief touch—the first physical contact he had initiated since your embrace around the fire. You took aim at the first bottle, and with the memory of his guidance in your mind, you pulled the trigger.

The shot rang out, its echo reverberating through the desolate wasteland. A split second later, the sharp noise of the bottle smashing reached your ears, the shattered pieces scattering across the ground like sparkling jewels.

"Yes!" you exclaimed triumphantly, a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins as you raised your arms above your head in victory. Turning to your mentor with a wide grin, you hoped for words of praise, but you were instead met with a stoic nod of approval, his expression unreadable as he regarded you with a steady gaze. Disappointment panged in your chest, a fleeting moment of deflation amidst the rush of triumph.

"Four more, then you can celebrate," he gestured towards the remaining targets and you eyed him with defeat as your arms dropped to your side.

Eyebrows furrowed in determination, you rolled you neck as you prepared yourself. A brief glimmer of pride flickered in his eyes as he watched you turn back towards your targets with a raised weapon.

"Four more, then you cook dinner," you countered and he laughed quietly, a short huff of air out his nose that was barely perceptible.

As the afternoon wore on, you focused all your concentration on the task at hand, determined to prove yourself capable not just to the Ghoul but to yourself. With each bullet that flew past its target, the Ghoul's sighs of irritation echoed in the stifling air.

He had retreated to the scant shade offered by a nearby fence, his slumped posture a testament to the oppressive heat that hung heavy in the air. From his vantage point, he observed your progress with a stoic demeanour, offering little in the way of encouragement as you struggled to find your mark. Still, you refused to be deterred by his silence, channelling your frustration and determination into each shot. With each miss, you adjusted your stance, honing your focus. Finally, the satisfying sound of shattering glass filled the air as the last bottle exploded into a thousand pieces, scattering across the ground.

Pride swelled within you as you looked down at your gun, a tool that had once seemed so foreign and intimidating. In that moment, a sense of awe washed over you as you realized just how far you had come from the life you had once known. The image of yourself as a wife, a homemaker, seemed like a distant memory, a remnant of a time before the world had been plunged into chaos. 

As you stood there, gun in hand, dirt under your nails, and a sense of purpose burning within your soul, you couldn't help but wonder how absurd your former self would find this scene. The thought of her reaction brought a smile to your lips, a bittersweet reminder of the person you had once been, and the person you were becoming.

A slow clap from behind you drew your attention, and you turned to see your partner walking towards you, his lips pulled into a wry smile. "Well, as long as no one moves, you might just cut it."

Despite his teasing, you welcomed the familiar banter, a reminder of the rapport that had developed between you before it's abrupt end. With a smile, you looked him over, a wave of gratitude washing over you. "Thank you, for this," you said, gesturing with the gun towards the broken glass. "I feel like The Man From Deadhorse."

With a playful grin, you raised your gun towards the Ghoul, a glint of mischief in your eyes. "I hope you like the taste of lead, you commie son of a bitch."

The sudden shift in atmosphere caught you off guard, the playful jest dying on your lips as the Ghoul's demeanour transformed with alarming speed. Before you could react, he closed the distance between you with swift, purposeful strides, his grisly features contorted with rage.

In the blink of an eye, he knocked the gun from your hand, the dull thud as it buried into the sand was loud in the tense quiet. Your heart pounded in your chest as you watched in stunned silence, your wide eyes snapping back to him when he seized your arms in a vice-like grip.

"You don't play like that, you hear?" he scolded, his voice low and harsh, the intensity of his gaze drilling into you like a laser. His leather-clad fingers dug into your flesh, leaving behind faint impressions as he held you firmly in place.

With a shaky nod, you swallowed hard, your voice barely a whisper as you replied, "I hear you." The tension hung thick in the air between you. "It was from a movie, I didn't mean nothing by it."

As he regarded you, the intensity of his grip slowly eased, his features softening marginally as he released you from his grasp. Though his anger still simmered beneath the surface, there was a hint of remorse in his eyes, a silent apology for his outburst. "This ain't no movie, darlin'."

"I know that," you said wistfully.

"Then act like it," he grunted, a wheezing cough escaping him before turning away. "Let's get moving," he muttered, his voice tinged with resignation as he retrieved the gun from the sand and handed it back to you.

You holstered your gun, a sense of caution settling over you as you eyed him warily, your footsteps echoing softly against the gravel path as you followed him back to your shelter. He stopped abruptly a few steps ahead, his posture rigid as he doubled over, sputtering into his closed fist.

Instinctively, you moved toward him, concern etched into your features, but you halted in your tracks at the sight of his outstretched hand. "Get back," he rasped, his voice strained, a clear warning in his tone.

You watched with growing unease as he struggled to regain his composure, each laboured breath sounding like a heavy weight upon his chest. The deep, chest-rattling wheeze that emanated from him sent a shiver down your spine, but despite the urge to rush to his aid, you knew better than to defy his command. With a reluctant step backward, you maintained a cautious distance, your eyes never leaving him as you waited anxiously for the bout of coughing to pass.

The coughing had started a few days prior, coming sporadically but with increasing frequency, especially when the Ghoul worked himself up. At first, you had dismissed it as the inevitable toll of his years spent wandering through dust and dirt, but as the days passed and you witnessed the panic in his eyes one evening while he counted his stock of liquid-filled vials, you knew it was something more. The sight of his trembling hands, the frantic glint in his tired eyes, sent a chill down your spine,

You didn't fully understand the significance of the vials, only that they were his medicine—but for what ailment, you couldn't be certain. You had assumed it was for pain, a necessary relief for someone who had endured the relentless exposure to radiation for so long. You knew better than to ask him about it directly. Even in moments of calm, when the worry over his dwindling supply wasn't etched into his furrowed brow, you knew that prying into something so personal would be met with resistance.

The Ghoul staggered back to the shelter and you followed behind him with growing concern, your heart pounding in your chest. You watched in silence as he grasped the stair rails for support, his normally steady gait now faltering. It was a sight you had never witnessed before—him weakened and vulnerable—and fear shot through you like a bolt of lightning, unwelcome thoughts of what this could mean racing through your mind.

You quickly put the invasive thoughts aside, hurrying to join him inside where you found him hunched over his saddlebag. His movements were frenzied as he loaded a vial into the inhaler that distributed the medicine. With a deep, shaky breath, he puffed the inhaler, the sound echoing loudly in the confined space. Minutes stretched into eternity as he fought to regain control of his breathing, his chest heaving with each ragged inhale.

You held your breath in anticipation, watching as his chest heaved and then settled, but your frown deepened when a groan escaped him. He threw himself back against the wall, his movements laboured and unsteady. His arms hung limp at his sides, the inhaler discarded and forgotten on the ground beside him. His hat slipped from his head, tumbling to the dirtied tiles below, leaving his bald head glistening with perspiration, the droplets of sweat trickling down his tired face.

It was a sobering sight, one that filled you with a sense of helplessness as you stood before him, unsure of what to do to alleviate his suffering.

"Told you to stay away," he breathed, his voice weary as he met your gaze, exhaustion evident in his eyes. "I'm fine," he muttered, though the strain in his voice betrayed his words. "Just need to close my eyes."

As his eyes fluttered shut, you moved to his saddlebag with haste, your heart pounding in your chest as you searched desperately for another vial to bring him back to you. But as your trembling hands sifted through the contents, your heart sank like a stone—empty. He had been rationing his vials for days now, telling you there was a place up ahead to get more, but that you weren't to come with him. Another one of his solo trips.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you realized that he was going nowhere in this condition. His shallow breathing reduced you to panic as you fumbled at the inside of his heavy duster, your hands shaking with urgency. Ignoring the incessant clicking of the dosimeter, you pulled out a weathered map that he had drawn up at the beginning of your journey, showing you just how far you had to go until you'd find the haven and the stops that you'd make between.

Your gaze swept over the roughly sketched lines and symbols, tracing the route ahead with a growing sense of urgency. Finally, your eyes landed on a cluster of squares topped with triangles, situated close to the location you recognized as your shelter on the map. Beside them, a lone letter "V" was scrawled, signalling the area designated for his next collection of vials. The distance seemed manageable, just a half-day's journey at most—perhaps even less if you pushed yourself.

The prospect of venturing out alone was daunting, yet despite the risk of leaving him vulnerable, of being scolded for leaving upon your return, you knew there was no alternative. He relied on those vials, and you relied on him.

With a heavy heart, you removed his gun from its holster, carefully positioning his gloved hand around its grip before settling it on his lap. Adjusting his hat back on his head to shroud his closed eyes, you hoped that any passing traveller might be deterred by the implication of a formidable foe awaiting their approach.

Taking a deep breath, you glanced back at your companion one last time, the weight of your decision settling heavily upon you. With a silent prayer for his safety, you asked him to wish you luck before turning away and setting off towards your new destination, determined to retrieve the vials and save the Ghoul.

The two-story house stood large and imposing before you, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon casting long shadows across the grounds. Its faded white paint was peeling, revealing the weather-beaten wood beneath, and its roof sagged precariously as if it could collapse at any moment. The yard, overgrown with tall grass and weeds, was littered with the carcasses of rusty, broken-down vehicles and an assortment of discarded debris, each piece a story of neglect and abandonment.

Stepping onto the sprawling porch, the creak of the wooden boards seemed to echo through the still air as you steadied your nerves. You rapped your knuckles against the front door that hung slightly ajar. 

"Whaddya want?" a disgruntled voice hollered from inside, and you stepped back as the door was torn open to reveal a man, his greying hair unkempt and greasy, clinging to his weathered face that was etched with deep lines and one large, pink scar from eye to jaw. "Well, what is it?"

Clearing your throat to dispel the tension, you attempted a friendly smile as you greeted him. "Hello, I'm hoping you can help me," you began, holding the unfolded map up to show him. With a pointed finger, you indicated the spot marked by the Ghoul with a "V." "I'm looking for vials, is this where I can get them?"

He peered closer to the map, beady eyes squinting as he considered it. With a dirty hand, he rubbed at the white stubble of his chin as he hummed, his gaze flicking over you quickly before straightening. "Vials, you say? You're in luck," he gave you a toothy smile, displaying his blackened teeth.

Despite the turn in your stomach, you breathed a sigh of relief. Tucking the map away in the side of your bag, you smiled gratefully. "You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that," you laughed.

"Well, don't dilly-dally on my porch all night, girl," he said, ushering you inside.

Stepping into the dimly lit home, you were hit by the musty scent of decay and mould. The house was cluttered, filled with stacks of old newspapers, broken furniture, and various knickknacks. The man led you through a narrow hallway into a small room that served as both a living space and a workshop. A cluttered table sat against one wall, covered in tools, scraps of metal, and various mechanical parts.

"Sit," he ordered, pointing to a rickety chair near the table. "I'll see what I got."

You sat down cautiously, the chair creaking under your weight. The man rummaged through a pile of junk on a nearby shelf, muttering to himself as he searched. After a few tense moments, he produced a small wooden box and placed it on the table in front of you.

"Here they are," he said, his tone gruff. "How many you need?"

You glanced at box, your heart pounding with a mix of relief and anxiety. "I need as many as you can spare. How much for all of them?"

The man scratched his head, considering your request. "Caps, or trade?" he asked, eyeing your bag.

"I have caps," you replied, reaching into your bag and pulling out a small pouch. You poured the caps onto the table, counting them quickly. "Is this enough?"

He scooped up the caps, weighing them in his hand before shaking his head. "Not hardly," he said, pocketing them as he stared down at you expectantly. You quickly fumbled in your bag, trying to find something to offer. "How about that there contraption?"

Your eyes followed his to the Pip-Boy on your wrist. What would the Ghoul say if you returned without it? He had insisted you keep it on, gifting it to you as a means of gaining some semblance of control that you desperately wanted. Granted it had recently become an unwanted reminder that loneliness would be your only companion until you met your baby, but he wouldn't want you to trade it. Yet he wasn't here, and you were in desperate need of those vials.

"Please, anything else," you pleaded, one last ditch attempt at negotiation as you rifled through the contents of your bag. "I have scrap, copper, toothpaste, you can even have my gun," you continued, listing your items in a desperate ramble before throwing your gun onto the table beside you. 

The man's narrow gaze swept over the array of items you had laid out, his expression a mask of disdain. Without hesitation, he seized your bag and upended its contents onto the worn tabletop. With a rough hand, he sifted through the items, emitting grunts of disapproval as he scrutinized each one.

"No, no good," he muttered, crossing his arms in a gesture of finality. "That thing's worth more than all that junk combined." His lip curled in distaste as he indicated the Pip-Boy resting on your wrist. "It's the gadget or no deal."

Desperation gnawed at you. You needed those vials; the Ghoul's life depended on it. Leaving empty-handed wasn't an option. Fighting back tears, you took a deep breath and looked up at the man, striving to keep your voice steady. "Fine, it's a deal," you conceded, fingers trembling as you unclasped the precious device from your wrist, placing it reluctantly into his filthy palms.

His cracked lips curled into a predatory grin as he regarded his newfound treasure. With a casual shove, he pushed the box of vials across the table towards you. Eagerly, you reached for it, anticipation tingling in your fingertips. But as you pried open the lid, hope turned to bitter disappointment at the sight within.

"There are only three vials here," you stated, disbelief colouring your voice. "We agreed on the Pip-Boy for everything you've got."

A mirthless chuckle escaped the man's throat as he he leaned back against the table, a smug gleam in his eyes. "There it is," he declared, gesturing towards the meagre contents of the box in your hands. "Lesson learned, darlin'. Always check the goods before sealing the deal."

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment and frustration, cursing yourself inwardly for falling prey to such a blatant deception. Anger surged within you, fuelled by both the injustice of the situation and the man's smug satisfaction.

"That's not fair!" Your voice rose, laced with indignation, drawing a startled expression from the man across the table.

"Now listen here, you little-"

"What's all this hoo-ha about?" a woman's voice interrupted him as she entered the room. She was about the same age as the man, greying and wrinkled, but whereas his face was stern, hers warmed when she saw you. Her hands went to the apron tied around her thin waist, wiping at the dirty fabric as she spoke. "Well, who do we have here?"

The man released an exasperated sigh, his patience wearing thin. "Just a fool not knowing when a deal is done," he muttered, flinging your empty bag in your direction. "Collect your shit and hit the road."

Before you could react, her hand shot out with startling speed, connecting with the back of his head with a resounding smack. He recoiled, irritation contorting his features as he rubbed the offended spot.

"Goddamn, woman!" he exclaimed, shooting her a venomous glare. "She got the chems, I held up my end of the bargain."

Her eyebrows arched inquisitively as she scrutinized you. "And what might someone like you want with those?"

"My friend, he's unwell," you explained, rising from your seat to begin to deposit your items back in the bag. 

"So, he sent you to fetch them," she deduced.

You nodded, choosing your words carefully as you gauged the situation. Despite her apparent kindness, you sensed it wise to withhold certain details of your predicament. "Something along those lines," you replied cautiously, then pointed to the three vials. "I just hoped there were more."

"There are more," she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument as she delivered a swift reprimand to the man beside her. "Edwin, why are you lying to this poor girl?"

Edwin, still nursing a sore spot on his head from her earlier blow, shot her a disgruntled look. "Can't a man try and make a profit in this economy?"

Ignoring his protest, she turned her attention back to you, a friendly smile gracing her features. "My husband will whip up as many vials as you need, don't you fret," she assured, her reassurance a comforting balm to your frayed nerves. Casting a disapproving glance at Edwin as he started to object once more, she added, "And to make amends for his rudeness, I'll whip you up a plate."

You breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you so much, but I really must hurry these back to my friend," you insisted.

"Of course you must," she affirmed, her eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled again. "Edwin will go fetch you some from the cellar. We can't keep such valuable stock out in the open, you understand." Her explanation was delivered with a nod of assurance, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Edwin grumbled, leaving the room presumably to fetch the vials.

"Why don't you and me wait for him in the dinin' room," she suggested, her voice carrying a hint of Southern charm from the old world. "You ain't tasted nothin' till you tried my brahmin roast." 

Your protests dissolved into silence as she gently guided you into the room from whence she appeared. A grand wooden dining table commanded the centre of the space, its unpolished surface bearing the scars of time and use. Two weathered candelabras sat empty upon the worn tabletop framing an intricately designed vase that stood proudly in the centre, its once-vibrant bouquet now reduced to a collection of decaying flowers, a red hue faded to a sombre brown. Despite its faded grandeur, there was a certain charm to the room, a nostalgic reminder of simpler times.

Memories of your past life flooded your mind. You remembered the stressful joy of hosting gatherings, the meticulous attention to detail as you fretted over the correct placement of place mats and whether the centrepiece was in keeping with the latest trends from the home magazines you avidly read. Glenn, ever the laid-back husband, would often be found nestled in his recliner, savouring a glass of whiskey as the radio drowned out your worries. He only intervened when you were on the verge of tears, calling for Patti to come and mend his frantic wife.

As you took in the scene before you, a pang of nostalgia tugged at your heartstrings, a bittersweet reminder of a life left behind in the wake of the bombs. In this dilapidated dining room, this family had somehow managed to create a semblance of normalcy amongst the disorder. You only hoped to do the same for your own child.

"I'll have Junior walk you back to your friend," she announced, her voice carrying a gentle authority as she guided you to a seat amidst the array of mismatched chairs. "He's a good boy, you won't come into any trouble out there with him by your side." 

With a tender smile, she disappeared through a swinging door, leaving you to ponder her offer in the dimly lit room. However, your contemplation was interrupted by an unpleasant odour that wafted through the doorway, assaulting your senses with its acrid essence. The stench caused your stomach to churn uneasily, and you couldn't help but wrinkle your nose in distaste.

As she returned with two steaming plates balanced delicately in her hands, the offensive smell accompanied her, its presence overwhelming. Recoiling slightly, you fought to suppress the urge to gag and wondered how the woman wasn't doing the same.

Setting one plate down before you with practiced grace, she deftly produced a worn napkin from her apron, gently draping it across your lap with an air of hospitality. Expressing your gratitude, you watched warily as she took her seat opposite you, her eyes bright with anticipation.

Since your escape from the vault, you hadn't consumed anything that hadn't been prepared by your own hands or originated from a tin can. While her gesture was undoubtedly kind, you couldn't shake the apprehension that gnawed at you, fuelled by the putrid scent emanating from the meat on your plate.

You hesitantly prodded at the dish, watching as the jellied fat quivered around the thick bone it encased. A wave of revulsion washed over you, and opting instead to sample a carrot, you found it had been thoroughly drenched in the juices and carried the same off-putting aroma as the dubious meat.

Swallowing heavily, you mustered an encouraging smile for the woman across from you as she observed your reaction, her gaze expectant. Despite the foul taste in your mouth, you smiled in appreciation, hoping that it was enough to mask your unease. 

"It's delicious," you fibbed, delicately patting the corners of your mouth with the napkin. You eyed the door you had entered through. "Will your husband be joining us soon?"

You didn't want to push, but the urgency of your situation weighed heavily on your mind. Every moment spent away from the Ghoul felt like an eternity, and the thought of his deteriorating condition filled you with a sense of dread. You could have left with those three vials, but what guarantee did you have that they would be enough?

You knew nothing about his condition, nor did you possess the knowledge to provide any meaningful assistance. All you could do was return with as many vials as you could carry, hoping that the sheer quantity would be enough to appease him and alleviate any resentment he might harbour towards you for leaving.

"It's a big cellar," she offered in explanation, her tone carrying a hint of apology for her husband's delay. A heavy sigh escaped her lips, her gaze unwaveringly fixed on you. "Gets a mite lonesome in this old house."

You offered her a sympathetic smile, sensing a shared understanding of loneliness in her words. "And Junior, is he your son?" you asked.

"One of 'em," she replied with a wistful smile, her gaze drifting momentarily into the distance. "The only one left. Tall as a redwood and about as sharp as one too, bless his heart." There was a fondness in her tone, a mother's unconditional love for her child evident in every word. "But us mothers, we love 'em all the same, don't we?" she added with a gentle chuckle, her eyes flicking to your pregnant belly before returning to meet yours with a glimmer of joy.

Your eyes widened in astonishment at her revelation, and a surge of vulnerability and protectiveness welled within you, prompting your hands to instinctively cradle your bump. You had grown noticeably, your pregnancy now too pronounced to conceal any longer, compelling you to discard your vault suit in favour of garments salvaged from an old dresser. Amidst the solitude of your journey with the Ghoul, encounters with others had been rare, limited to a handful of oblivious traders who had failed to notice your condition. This unexpected revelation felt like a breach of privacy, like divulging a secret that had been shared exclusively between you and your companion.

"Of course," you replied cautiously, sensing the weight of her words.

"I'd move mountains for my boy, just to ensure he's fed and breathing. In this world, that's about all a mother can aspire to," she murmured, eyes glistening with the threat of tears. "It's a pitiful state when a mother can't even provide that much for her own kin."

Your heart constricted with anguish, fears surging to the forefront as you contemplated the prospect of being unable to provide even the most basic necessities for your unborn child. The notion of welcoming a helpless infant into a world of scarcity and violence filled you with terror. You had been hesitant to confront the reality of impending motherhood, unsure of how you would navigate the responsibilities that lay ahead. Despite clinging to the hope that sanctuary awaited you at the haven, you couldn't shake the nagging doubt that lingered in the recesses of your mind.

As you looked into her sad eyes, a pang of empathy tugged at your heartstrings. This poor woman had endured unimaginable loss, yet here she was, seemingly trying to cling to a semblance of normality by creating a home for her remaining family in the wasteland.  It was a fragile existence, one that could be snatched away at any moment, and as her resilience struck a chord within you, you wondered: Could this be your future as well? The thought lingered in the depths of your mind, weighing heavy on your chest. 

"Don't feel sorry for me, darlin', I got my time with my boys," she assured you, reaching across the table to rest her hand gently on yours. 

You smiled sadly as you regarded her. "I can't even imagine what you've been through," you admitted, your voice laced with genuine sympathy.

"No, I suppose you can't," she replied softly, her hand withdrawing from yours as she settled back in her chair. There was a moment of quiet contemplation before she spoke again, her words carrying the weight of hard-earned wisdom. "I've come to realize in this world that it's not about what's been done to us, but what we are willing to do."

You nodded in agreement. You had been thrust into this harsh reality, subjected to the horrors of the vaults and the betrayal of those who promised salvation. Yet, despite the trials and tribulations you had faced, you had fought tooth and nail to survive, to carve out a place for yourself in this dangerous new world. And now, with the imminent arrival of your child, that determination burned even brighter within you.

"Are you willing to do anything for your baby?" she asked, her voice soft yet resolute. Without hesitation, you nodded, unwavering resolve in your eyes.

Her gaze dropped to the table momentarily, lost in thought, before lifting once more to meet yours. "So am I," she declared softly, an edge in her voice that belied her gentle demeanour.

With a swift motion, she brought her index and middle finger to her lips, emitting a sharp whistle that pierced through the stillness of the old house. Your brows furrowed, trying to make sense of her action before Edwin shuffled into the room, trailed by a looming figure whose long hair obscured the majority of his face. "Christ, Mag, I thought we'd be waiting all night," the older man grumbled. "Junior, grab the girl."

You turned your gaze back to Mag, the panic rising within you like a tidal wave, but as your eyes searched for reassurance in hers, you found only avoidance. Her gaze remained fixed on the table, refusing to meet yours, her expression inscrutable.

Junior closed the distance with two swift strides, his towering frame engulfing you as he efficiently yanked you from your seat, flinging you onto your back on the table with a brutal force that stole the air from your lungs. The table's decorations rattled to the ground, mingling with the scattered food in a cacophonous crash.

As Mag's now stern voice echoed through the room, a cold shiver ran down your spine. "Don't leave any marks, Junior," she scolded, authority in her tone. Her son nodded in obedience.

Your hands trembled as you instinctively reached for your holster, only to curse under your breath when you found it empty. The realization hit you like a sledgehammer— you had handed your gun to Edwin during the negotiations, a decision that now seemed foolish in hindsight. Defenceless, vulnerable, and at the mercy of forces beyond your control. Like a cruel nightmare, you were back where you had started. 

"Can't sell meat that's all bruised up," Mag's words lingered in the air as she left the room and your eyes widened in terror as the door swung to a shut. You scrambled to rise from the table, but Junior pushed you back down, though this time with less force. 

"Please, you don't have to do this," you begged, tears welling in your eyes.

"She's not for selling, she's for eating," Edwin interjected callously, disregarding your pleas as he seized your ankles. Junior seized your wrists in an iron grip and pinned them above your head, stretching you out before them. 

"Says who, you old coot?" Mag challenged, reappearing with a hefty butcher knife gripped firmly in her hand. The awful smell filled the room again, and you felt bile rise in your throat.

"Says me, the one who got her inside in the first place," he retorted, grunting as you struggled against his grip. "Besides, I'm sick of that rancid meat. He's been festering in there for weeks." He nodded toward the door where the putrid smell was emitting from.

His words sent a chill down your spine as you glanced at the mess of food scattered across the floor. Your eyes honed in on the repulsive meat that now lay splayed on the grubby carpet amongst the ceramic shards of the plates. Brahmin meat, she had told you, but now you realized it was another poor soul who had crossed this family's path.

Perhaps you were naïve to not consider the act of cannibalism in this dire new reality, but your mind reeled at the images of teeth ripping through bloody flesh.

"Please, why are you doing this?" you cried, tears hot on your cheeks as panic consumed you, each futile struggle met with unyielding strength from Edwin and Junior. Mag moved to your side.

"We've had this conversation, darlin', you know why," Mag whispered, her face looming mere inches from yours. The warmth that once suffused her features had now drained away, replaced by a chilling resolve as she gazed down at you. "Motherhood demands sacrifice, and this is the sacrifice I'm willing to make."

Her gaze shifted to your belly, assessing it before turning to address the old man. "We'll keep her for meat and sell the babe for a hefty sum," she declared, eliciting a triumphant whoop from him. As her hand tenderly caressed your sweat-dampened hair, a shiver ran down your spine at the realization of your fate. "I want you to know that I mean you no ill will," she murmured, her voice a soothing contrast to the horror of her words. "But my boy has to eat."

The gentle touch of her hand offered little comfort as you recoiled from her touch. When you shook your head in a futile attempt to rid yourself of her grasp, she stepped back, her voice hardening once more.

"I wish I could promise this won't hurt, but there's only one way this baby's comin' out," she stated matter-of-factly, her words ringing with finality as the weight of your impending ordeal settled like lead in the pit of your stomach.

As the blade hovered menacingly above you, your mind raced with desperate thoughts. You couldn't shake the image of the Ghoul alone, abandoned where you'd left him while you embarked on this ill-fated rescue mission. What if he awoke to find you gone, vanished without a trace? Would he think you'd left him, angry over what had transpired between you both? Or perhaps that you'd waited until his weakest moment to finally run from him. The mere notion tore at your heartstrings.

You needed him to know the truth, to understand that your departure was in aide to help him not abandon him. You couldn't die knowing that he may think so badly of you, even though you weren't sure why it mattered so much. He'd been difficult and stubborn, scolded you and made you cry, but there was a yearning that you felt for him beyond your own understanding. With every fibre of your being, you silently pleaded for a chance to return to his side, to make things right and ensure that he could never doubt your devotion.

But you were trapped, with nowhere to run and no escape from the horrors unfolding before you. The full stretch of your body left your bare stomach uncomfortably exposed to the imminent danger. The cold, unforgiving blade of the knife traced a path across the swell of your belly, its touch sending shivers of dread coursing through your veins. Though the first cut was not deep, the sting of pain accompanied by the trickle of blood down your side served as a grim reminder of the perilous situation you had walked yourself and your unborn child into.

Since escaping the clutches of the vault, you hadn't dared to picture your future, quickly learning that the dangers of the wasteland were capable of shattering your reality with ruthless brutality from one moment to the next. Yet, amidst the chaos and uncertainty, one thing had remained constant: your unwavering determination to protect and nurture the life growing within you.

From the moment you heard the doctor confirm your pregnancy, a flicker of hope ignited within you. Despite the deceit of your husband, the looming threat of war, and every obstacle that stood in your path, you had clung to the unwavering belief that you were destined for motherhood. It was a truth that resonated deep within your heart, but you felt it slowly being swallowed by the hollow ache of despair and regret.

With a heavy heart weighing down every fibre of your being, you closed your eyes, bracing yourself for what was to come. In that harrowing moment, a chilling realization swept over you like a tidal wave: if you were to remain conscious through these next moments, you would meet your baby. You were so far from carrying to full-term, but why would Mag go to such lengths unless she was confident that your baby would survive. Afterall, a living baby must be worth a fortune in the wasteland. A commodity, as the Ghoul had described you. 

Then, the thought pierced your soul: your baby would enter the world alone, without you, unaware of what transpired or why you weren't there beside them. Growing up to think that their mother never loved them. You couldn't let it happen.

With your last shred of resolve shattered, a primal scream tore from your throat.

A distant crash from another room shattered the tense atmosphere, bringing the woman's relentless pursuit with the knife to an abrupt halt. All three members of the family turned their heads towards the doorway, their eyes widening in shock as it was obliterated before them. A deafening cacophony of splintering wood filled the air as a single bullet burst through, sending wooden fragments flying in all directions.

Instinctively, you turned your head away, seeking whatever meagre protection you could get. In the midst of the commotion, Edwin's agonized holler pierced the air, his body recoiling as the bullet sliced through his neck. With a forceful impact, he was thrown back against the kitchen doorway, his form crumpling to the ground with a heavy thud that reverberated throughout the room.

Junior's anguished wails pierced your eardrums. Despite his distress, his vice-like grip remained unyielding, keeping you firmly in place even as he grappled with the shock of his father's demise.

Meanwhile, Mag offered only a fleeting acknowledgment to the lifeless form of her husband before her attention snapped back to the now-open doorway. There, a figure emerged, a silhouette framed by the shattered remnants of the entrance. With each step, the sound of spurred boots rang out like a beacon of hope.

As the Ghoul's hulking frame filled the doorway, a wave of relief washed over you. He appeared worlds apart from the unconscious man you had left behind in search of aid, and as you took in his daunting appearance, you noticed the inhaler clutched in his hand, an almost empty vial inserted inside. 

Locking eyes with him across the room, you watched as his weary gaze swept over the scene before him: you, splayed out and held down on the table, a small cut marring your belly, tears streaking your face.

In that fleeting moment, his expression darkened with a silent fury. With swift and merciless precision, he raised his magnum, his aim unwavering as he first targeted Junior. In an instant, the sound of gunfire shot through the room, a single slug piercing through Junior's skull, extinguishing his cries in a heartbeat.

Mag's horrified gaze barely had time to register the terror before her own fate was sealed. She turned to the Ghoul with venom in her eyes. "Coop—"

With ruthless efficiency, another bullet tore through her chest, sending her crumpling to the floor beside her fallen son. In the span of mere seconds, the room fell almost silent, the only sound being the Ghoul's heavy breaths as he surveyed the aftermath of his swift justice.

A low groan echoed across the room, drawing the Ghoul's attention to the source of the sound. Without hesitation, he fired off two more shots into Edwin's chest, putting an end to his suffering. As the final ring of gunfire faded, the Ghoul lowered his gun, his gaze fixated on you once more. His eyes, dark and brooding, seemed to bore into your very soul, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable in their intense scrutiny.

With trembling hands, you pushed yourself up to sit on the table, the weight of so many emotions swirling within you like a windstorm raging inside your chest. Fear, relief, guilt, and gratitude warred for dominance, each vying for your attention as you struggled to make sense of the harrowing ordeal that had unfolded before you. In that moment of uncertainty, you found yourself paralyzed by indecision, unsure of how to proceed as you watched the Ghoul, awaiting his instruction.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he holstered his gun and tucked the inhaler back inside his coat, the look of anguish etched upon his scarred face. With a silent understanding passing between you, he beckoned you to him with a curl of his fingers, a wordless invitation for comfort that you never thought possible from him. Your body moved on instinct, propelled forward by a force beyond conscious thought, as you leaped from the table and into the safety of his waiting arms. In that moment, all pretence of strength crumbled away, leaving you clinging to him with a desperation that bordered on frantic.

You held onto him so tightly that you could almost feel the air being squeezed from your lungs. As his muscular arms enveloped you and your unborn child, a floodgate of emotion burst open within you, unleashing an outburst of tears that wracked your body with their intensity.

"I never left you," you whispered through each sob, your voice hoarse from screaming, the words spilling out in a plea for understanding. "I swear, I was coming back."

His touch was tender as he stroked your hair, his breath warm against your ear as he comforted your trembling form. "Nobody would blame you if you hadn't," he murmured softly, then cleared his throat. "I told you, you weren't to come here."

"I had to save you," you insisted, your voice shaking but resolute.

"Sure did a fine job," he said, glancing around the room at the carnage. "Looked like you had everything under control."

His teasing stung, and you pulled away from him, hurt flashing in your eyes as you stood your ground. "You were unconscious. If I hadn't come, you would have—" your voice cracked, unable to finish the thought.

"I'm still here, aren't I?" he interrupted, irritation thick in his voice. "Good thing too, because I wasn't aware just how dumb you could be."

"I didn't know if you'd make it," you shot back, your voice a raw blend of frustration and fear. "I had to do something, I couldn't lose you."

For a brief moment, his eyes softened, a flicker of understanding passing between you. But it was quickly replaced by steely conviction. He pointed a gloved finger at your belly, his tone firm yet edged with concern. "I shouldn't be your concern right now."

You cradled your bump protectively, looking up at him with glistening eyes. "And yet here we are."

He was silent for a moment, his hand dropping back to his side as he regarded you with a mix of frustration and helplessness. "What am I going to do with you?" he muttered, more to himself than to you.

You didn't answer him. Instead, you moved back into his chest, seeking the comfort you'd felt moments before. His arms wrapped around you instinctively, the tension in his muscles softening as he held you close.

"This can't keep happening," he said after moments of silence passed between you, his words hammering at your heart. You couldn't tell if he was referring to the intimacy of your embrace or your reckless brush with death once again. Regardless, you tightened your grip on him.

"Just a little longer," you whispered, your voice barely audible. He sighed in resignation as he gently disentangled your arms from his waist, pushing you back to look into your eyes. His hand slipped into the pocket of his coat, and he retrieved the device that would sever any remaining physical connection between you.

You had barely had time to enjoy the unbridled freedom of those moments in his embrace, the silence broken only by the rhythmic beating of his heart against your cheek rather than the disturbing clicking. But now, as your eyes fell on the Pip-Boy, you realized you weren't ready to relinquish that freedom, despite the protection it promised.

"I told you not to take it off," he chided. When you started to explain yourself, he cut you off. "I don't care, just put it back on."

You shook your head, your eyes locking with his, defiance met with disappointment. "Don't make me do it," he pleaded earnestly, his voice softening, laden with a desperation you hadn't heard from him before.

"I have a choice, and so do you," you told him, your voice steady but your heart pounding.

He smiled sadly, a bittersweet expression that deepened the ache in your chest. "I wish that were true," he replied, pulling your hand gently and fastening the Pip-Boy around your wrist. The device closed with a sickening clink, severing the fragile connection between you. You held his gaze, chin high, though you wanted to curl into yourself.

"I wonder if it really is me you're protecting with this thing," you said, your voice trembling with rage and sorrow, your hand still enclosed in his as the clicking commenced. "I'm not so sure anymore."

His gaze dropped as he took a deep breath, bracing himself before looking back at you with a rueful smile. "Me neither, vaultie," he admitted, his voice a whisper of regret. He dropped your hand and turned to leave the room. "Maybe it's better that way."

He disappeared through the open doorway, leaving you alone with the heavy silence and the cold weight of the Pip-Boy on your wrist. The freedom of touch you had tasted moments ago now felt like a distant memory, replaced by the stark reality that, regardless of anything else, the Ghoul was determined to keep you at a distance. 

Taglist: @cheshirecat484 @lothiriel9 @ancientbeing10 @sillysimping @maeplaysbass @moon-trash1507 @spookyoat @rebelmarylou @writtenbyhollywood

This is such an underrated fic, omg. I cannot wait to continue reading it!!! Also it's nice to see the fmc fighting back against the ghoul's pushing away. It's different from a lot of fics I've read where it's only half way, it felt like a real argument. One where not everything you meant to say came out right, or wanted to say said at all.

Great job Author!!

From a Previous Life (Pt 4)

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Preg!Reader

Summary: You and the Ghoul quickly learn that your actions—and your words—carry significant consequences.

Warnings: Emotional hurt/comfort, pregnancy, doctor examination, sickness/radiation poisoning, arguing, angst, grief, yearning, rejection, slow burn, stubbornness, canon-typical violence, miscommunication, mention of blood/wound, reader throws things.

Word Count: 7.1K

A/N: It's been a while since I posted for this story, part 4 has been kicking my butt! Lots of angst and drama as usual, but the happy ending is on the horizon! I'd love to know what you think 💌

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

After thoroughly scouring the house and filling his saddlebag with every vial he could find in the basement, the Ghoul was adamant that you both leave immediately and put as much distance as possible between yourselves and the grim scene. You offered no resistance; despite the crushing fatigue that weighed heavily on your body and muddled your thoughts, you were eager to escape the horrors of that place. The pervasive stench of blood and decay had seeped into your clothing, becoming nearly suffocating, making it difficult to breathe and causing a deep ache in your chest.

As you left, you couldn't resist the urge to glance back at the lifeless forms of Mags and her family. The scene struck you deeply, like a blow to the gut that stole your breath away. In her final moments, Mags had dragged herself to her son, her fingers interlocking with his as she drew her last breath. That image seared itself into your mind, intensifying your desperation to leave until you were nearly sprinting out of the door.

The house now loomed as a grim testament to the violence that had transpired within its walls. Shadows gathered thickly in the corners, murmuring unsettling recollections you wished to erase from your mind. Each groan of the floorboards and whisper of the wind through shattered windows seemed to echo with ghostly reminders of the atrocities you had witnessed—and narrowly escaped. This sinister ambiance was compounded by a deeper regret: your inability to rescue the Ghoul, resulting in your needing to be rescued by him once again.

The Ghoul moved with a newfound intensity and focus that left your nerves frayed. Normally cautious, almost paranoid about traveling after dark with you in tow, his demeanour had shifted dramatically. Driven by a sense of urgency, he hurriedly led the way outside. "We can't stay here," he growled under his breath, more to himself than to you, his voice a tense murmur. "It's not safe. The next town isn't far; we can make it if we hurry." His words were laced with determination, pushing both of you forward into the encroaching darkness.

His usual paranoia had transformed into a fierce resolve. The normally measured pace was replaced by swift, almost frantic strides, and you struggled to keep up. Each step was a battle against the pain and exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm you, but the Ghoul's insistence was infectious, propelling you forward despite the fatigue weighing down your limbs.

"We're close," he assured, though it was unclear whether he was speaking to you or trying to convince himself. The path ahead was cloaked in shadows, the only light coming from the dim glow of the moon partially hidden by clouds. The noises of the night—distant howls, rustling amongst the dunes, the occasional whistle of the wind—kept your nerves on edge, but the Ghoul's presence offered a small measure of comfort despite your earlier confrontation.

You remained silent, too afraid to question why he was so determined to leave the house in such a hurry. You had your own reasons to comply—each step a painful reminder as your shirt rubbed against the scratch on your pregnant belly—but his urgency unnerved you. He was usually the epitome of calm under pressure, but now he appeared almost desperate, causing your own anxiety to simmer just below the surface.

You cast a wary glance at the Ghoul, observing the tension etched into his features. His jaw was clenched tight, and his eyes flicked restlessly from side to side, meticulously scanning the surroundings for any potential threats. The silence stretched taut between you, a palpable tension hanging in the air. As you approached the edge of the property line, the urge to speak became overwhelming. Unable to suppress your curiosity and growing unease, you finally broke the silence.

"What's chasing us?" you whispered, the question escaping your lips before you could rein it in. His head snapped towards you, eyes narrowing for a moment before he responded, his voice low and gravelly.

"You don't need to worry about that," he murmured. The edge in his tone cut through the night air, sending a chill down your spine. "Just hurry up," he said louder this time, his voice firm. As the faint outline of the town emerged, he quickened his pace, and you struggled to keep up, your backpack bouncing painfully against your spine with each hurried step.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, the icy air searing your lungs as a sudden, sharp pang shot through your abdomen. Clutching your stomach, you recoiled in horror when your hand came away slick with thick, crimson blood. Lifting your shirt, the dim light revealed the alarming state of your wound. What had started as a mere surface scratch had transformed into a grotesque display of infected tissue, marked by unsettling shades of green and purple. Yellowish pus oozed from the lesion, trickling down your trembling thigh, each drop intensifying your dread.

The sight alone was enough to send waves of panic through you, but it was the accompanying symptoms—the feverish chills, the throbbing pain, and the overwhelming weakness—that truly underscored the gravity of your situation. Your heart pounded in your chest, a frantic rhythm that mirrored the escalating fear gripping your mind as you realized just how dire your circumstances had become.

Dizziness overwhelmed you, a disorienting fog clouding your thoughts as a wave of nausea surged, making your mouth water uncontrollably. The chilling night air felt like icy tendrils wrapping around you, adding to the disorientation. You fought to steady your breathing and quell the nausea, each breath a struggle against the rising panic that threatened to consume you. Your vision blurred, and the ground beneath your feet seemed to sway.

You knew you should tell him about your worsening condition, but you were reluctant to add to his worry. The Ghoul had enough on his mind without your complications, you rationalized, though a niggling part of you wanted to keep it secret just to spite him. Despite his presence and support, the unresolved tension between you lingered, feeding your stubbornness.

"We're almost there," you muttered to yourself, a mantra to keep your legs moving. The Ghoul glanced back at you, his eyes narrowing as he noticed your distress.

"Everything okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

You forced a weak smile, nodding slightly. "I'm fine," you lied, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. The effort to appear composed was draining, and the dizziness intensified, making it harder to focus on the path ahead.

The town's lights shimmered in the distance, their soft glow promising relief and safety. Each step felt heavier, your legs trembling with the effort to keep moving. The Ghoul eyed you warily, noting the beads of sweat that dripped from your brow despite the harsh coolness of the evening. His hand reached out suddenly, gripping your arm and stopping you in your tracks. You swayed on unsteady feet, his firm hold the only thing keeping you upright. His eyes, filled with concern, searched your face for an explanation you weren't ready to give.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice low and demanding.

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. "It's nothing," you mumbled, but your body betrayed you, another wave of dizziness making you clutch at his side for support.

"Don't lie to me," he said, his grip tightening. "You're not fine. Tell me what's going on."

Your vision blurred again, dark spots dancing at the edges, and you stumbled, the infection's toll on your body becoming undeniable. Each pulse of pain radiating from the wound sapped your strength, making it increasingly difficult to stay upright. Despite this, a stubborn part of you resisted admitting the severity of your condition, not wanting to appear weak or vulnerable.

The Ghoul tightened his grip on your arm as he shook you gently but firmly, trying to snap you out of your daze. "Tell me. Now." He urged, his voice low but intense. He dipped his head to meet your eyes, which wandered aimlessly, struggling to focus.

"I... I'm not feeling well," you stammered to the Ghoul, your voice quivering as you struggled to focus on him through the growing haze of discomfort. His eyes widened as he pulled your hand away from your stomach, revealing the crimson stain seeping through your wet shirt. He lifted the hem, his teeth clenching at the sight of the grievous wound.

His gloved hands moved with a mixture of desperation and gentleness as he examined the area around the infected wound. He was careful not to press too hard, yet his touch was thorough, probing the extent of the damage. The seriousness of the situation was unmistakable in his expression—the furrowed brow, the tight set of his jaw, and the flicker of panic in his eyes. You could see him mentally calculating the next steps, his mind racing to figure out how best to manage the injury in the desolate surroundings.

The cold air bit at your exposed skin, adding to your discomfort, while the distant lights of the town seemed both tantalizingly close and frustratingly far. The Ghoul's demeanour was a blend of determination and fear as he quickly formulated a plan in his mind.

"Is it bad?" you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper, thin with fear. You weren't sure if you truly wanted to know the answer, and even less sure that he would tell you. His eyes flickered with something unreadable and he hesitated for a moment, as if weighing how much to reveal.

He grasped your wrist and began rapidly tapping on the screen of your Pip-Boy, his eyes scanning the information with growing alarm. The glow from the screen illuminated the deep lines around his sunken eyes, and in your hazy state, you thought about how handsome he looked. When he finally looked up, you felt unsteady under his worried gaze.

"We need to go—now," he declared, his voice leaving no room for hesitation. His grip tightened around your forearm, the pressure both reassuring and insistent, as he tried to pull you up. The intensity in his eyes and the firmness of his hold made it clear that there was no time to waste, and your mind struggling to keep pace with the rapid escalation of the situation.

Despite his urgency, your legs betrayed you. They faltered, stumbling and ultimately failing as you collapsed onto the sandy ground with a soft thud. The Ghoul's voice echoed as if from a distance, his words urging you to get up, but your body felt disconnected, heavy, and unresponsive. A visceral wave of panic surged through you, tightening its grip around your chest, making it hard to breathe. The edges of your vision began to blur, darkness creeping in, threatening to engulf your senses like a spreading shadow.

As you lay sprawled on the cold, sandy ground, the Ghoul quickly bent down to your level, his face etched with unease. He searched your eyes, looking for any flicker of awareness, but your responses were slow, your eyelids heavy and fluttering, making his movements appear surreal and drawn out, as if you were both submerged underwater.

Despite the chill that pervaded the air, beads of sweat continued to form on your forehead, streaming down your face as a fever raged within you. In a feeble attempt to find solace, you reached out blindly, seeking the familiar touch of your companion, only to grasp at the empty, chilling air.

Then, a profound dizziness overwhelmed you, like being pulled into a deep, dark chasm. You lost all sense of direction, no longer aware of what was up or down, past or present. The world around you faded to nothingness as you slipped further away, drifting into an inescapable void that swallowed all consciousness.

A faint voice, soft yet persistent, gently coaxed you back from the void's embrace. Wrapped in a dense fog, your mind meandered through scattered memories, teetering on the edge of consciousness. Slowly, sensations began to return as if awakening from a deep slumber; nerves tingled and flickered back to life under your tentative command. The first movement was a mere twitch of a finger, but it felt monumental, the brush of thin cotton against your skin amplifying the moment.

What happened? Where were you? These questions nudged at the corners of your slowly clearing mind. With effort, you drew a deep breath, marshalling the strength to pry your eyes open. They fluttered initially, rebelling against the harshness of light and the strain of waking. Gradually, your vision steadied, focusing upward at a ceiling marred by stains and the passage of time. You lay still for a moment, taking in your surroundings, trying to piece together how you had arrived at this unfamiliar place.

"Thought I'd lost you again," the voice spoke, its timbre resonating with relief and lingering anxiety. You turned your head slowly, your neck stiff and uncooperative, to see the Ghoul sitting in a dusty armchair nestled in the corner of the room. He had one leg crossed over the other, and his hands were clenched into tight fists resting in his lap. His posture betrayed the tension that had not yet left him.

"You seem to have a nasty habit of getting away from me," he added, a faint, wry smile playing at the edges of his lips, softening the sternness that had settled over his features. The combination of relief and reproach in his eyes alluded to the worry he had endured. The dusty armchair creaked slightly as he shifted, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward, his gaze never leaving you.

Your lips parted to respond, but the pain and dryness in your throat silenced you, leaving only a strained whisper. The effort made your vision blur momentarily, and you felt a wave of dizziness threaten to pull you back under.

The Ghoul jumped from his seat, closing the distance between you in two swift strides. He grabbed a glass of water from the side table and held it to your lips. His hand gently rested underneath your chin, helping you tilt your head back into the pillow as you swallowed painfully. The cool water soothed your raw throat, each gulp easing the burning sensation and bringing a momentary relief from the discomfort. His gloved touch was surprisingly tender, his eyes filled with concern as he looked down at you.

"Easy now," he murmured, his voice softer than you had ever heard it. The rough exterior he usually presented was momentarily stripped away, revealing a depth of care you hadn't fully realized before. As you finished the water, he set the glass aside, his hand lingering on your chin before carefully adjusting the pillow behind your head, ensuring you were comfortable.

"Thanks," you managed to whisper, your voice still hoarse but filled with gratitude. "Guess you can't get rid of me, can you?" You joked, your voice light despite the underlying exhaustion. 

A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Wouldn't want to," he replied, his tone gruff but softened by a note of sincerity. A flutter rose in your stomach at his words, and you felt an ache at the growing distance between you as he returned to his seat. Your fingers flexed against the bedsheet, wanting to reach out to him, but the memory of his words in the house still lingered.

The room seemed colder without his proximity, the silence stretching out once more. You watched him, noting the tension still evident in his posture, the way his hands clenched and unclenched restlessly in his lap. His gaze was fixed on some distant point, lost in thoughts you couldn't decipher.

As your eyes adjusted and began to focus, you took in more of the surroundings. You were in a bedroom, worn and slightly dishevelled. The vanity mirror across from the bed was cracked, its spiderweb fractures distorting the reflections it caught. A large, old wardrobe stood partially open, its doors unable to fully close, with clothes spilling out like colourful waterfalls onto the dusty floor.

The walls were faded, peeling wallpaper hinting at a time long past, while the floorboards creaked softly under any movement. A small nightstand next to the bed held your Pip-Boy and the empty glass. The bed you lay in had a wrought iron frame, rusted and showing signs of age, with a thin, threadbare quilt covering you. A faint scent of dust and age hung in the air, mingling with a lingering hint of antiseptic from recent efforts to clean and treat your injuries.

Despite its state, the room had a certain charm, a sense of having been lived in and cared for, even if that care had become sporadic over the years. The small details—a chipped teacup on the vanity, a child's drawing pinned to the wall—made it feel almost homely.

Your eyes widened in a flash of panic as you turned back to the Ghoul, but he cut you off before you could speak. "We aren't back there," he quickly interjected, his voice firm but reassuring, keen to alleviate your fears even momentarily. "We're safe."

His words settled some of the immediate panic, and you took a deep breath, trying to ground yourself in the present. Of course he hadn't taken you back to Mags' house, he'd wanted to get away from there almost as much as you had. Maybe more.

"Where are we?" you croaked, trying to make sense of your surroundings. Your gaze shifted to the window, where thin curtains let slivers of daylight filter through, casting faint patterns on the floor. The sounds of street vendors calling out their wares and distant bird calls drifted in, mingling with the occasional clatter of footsteps and murmured conversations from passers-by.

He shifted slightly in his seat, the gentle sunlight casting a warm glow on his worn features. "A makeshift clinic, managed by an old friend," he explained, his voice calm but laced with a hint of unease. "It's safe, for now." His eyes flickered towards the window, as if to reassure himself of the safety he promised, before returning to you with a determined expression.

He paused, his face reflecting deep thought as he carefully considered his next words. "You've been unconscious for almost two days," he disclosed, his voice heavy with the weight of the vigilance he had maintained while watching over you. His eyes were shadowed with exhaustion, the lines on his face more pronounced from the sleepless nights.

"You should have told me," he said, his voice a mix of frustration and concern. "How could you be so reckless to keep this to yourself?" His eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made it impossible to look away, the weight of his stare drilling into your conscience. The guilt welled up inside you, sharp and consuming, making your chest tighten with regret.

"I didn't want to bother you," you said softly.

He scoffed in response, rolling his eyes. "That's ridiculous," he muttered.

Narrowing your eyes in determination, you pushed yourself up to rest against the pillow, wincing slightly from the effort. The fabric rustled as you settled into a more upright position, your gaze locked onto his, the resolve in your eyes challenging the storm of emotions swirling in his.

"I'm tired of being a burden," you continued, your voice steadier now. The weight of your words hung in the air, the unspoken resentment evident in your tone. The room felt still, the sounds from outside momentarily fading as the intensity of the moment drew both of your focuses inward.

He shook his head, a sneer playing on his lips as he looked at you. "That's not your choice to make," he said, his tone carrying a cold edge. His eyes shifted away from you, staring out the window as if searching for answers in the distance.

The room seemed to grow colder, the sunlight no longer providing its gentle warmth but instead highlighting the tension between you. Each breath you took felt heavier than the last, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on both of you. The air was thick with emotions, and the distance between you felt insurmountable.

A chill ran through you, his words settling like a heavy weight in the space between you. "Seems I don't get much choice over anything nowadays," your voice wavered slightly, but you held his gaze when it snapped back to you, determined to confront him. You could see his jaw tighten, his eyes flickering with a mixture of frustration and something you couldn't quite identify. Each second stretched out painfully as you waited for his response.

"If you've got a death wish, that's between you and that baby," he growled through clenched teeth, pointing at your pregnant belly. "But don't drag me into it. I'm not hauling my ass across the desert just for you to throw your life away at every turn," he spat, his words sharp and biting.

Your breath caught in your throat as his words sunk in. "Glad to see where your priorities truly lie," you said, tears welling in your eyes. Anger surged through you at his insinuation. You didn't have a death wish—far from it. Since the bombings, you had fought tooth and nail to survive and to keep your baby safe, and he knew that.

His words felt like a betrayal. Whether he was trying to push you further away to save face or make it clear that he really did feel nothing for you, his harshness cut deep. The tears spilled over, tracing hot paths down your cheeks. "You know I've done everything to keep us alive," you continued, voice trembling with emotion. "I can't believe you'd think otherwise."

His eyes flickered with a brief moment of regret, but it was quickly masked by the anger that still lingered. "I'm just trying to keep you safe," he muttered, but the words felt hollow against the backdrop of your pain.

"I never wanted this!" you shouted, your voice cracking. "You captured me. I didn't ask for any of this!"

The anger and fear boiled over, and your desperate cries filled the room, making the air between you almost suffocating. The walls seemed to echo your words, amplifying the magnitude of the moment. His expression remained hard, but you could see a flicker of something cross them.

"You think I wanted this?" he shot back, his voice rising. "None of this was supposed to happen!"

"You should have just left me out there!" You cried, voice breaking under the weight of your anguish.

"I wish I did!" The raw emotion in his voice startling you as he stood up, his figure towering over you. The intensity of his words cut through your anger, slicing deep into your heart and leaving you both teetering on the brink of something irreversible. His face was flushed with a mixture of regret and pure fury, and the raw vulnerability in his eyes was a stark contrast to the harshness of his words.

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken words and unresolved pain. Each of you grappled with the complex web of emotions that bound you together, the weight of your shared past and uncertain future pressing down heavily.

You wrapped your arms protectively around your belly, your gaze dropping to the intricately patterned bedsheets. The delicate floral design blurred as tears welled up in your eyes. "Get out," you whispered, your voice barely audible, but the sharp flinch of his jaw from the corner of your eye told you that he had heard you clearly.

The words felt like lead on your tongue, heavy and final, as you struggled to maintain your composure. The room, once a refuge, now felt like a battleground. You could sense his presence still looming over you, his conflicting emotions almost tangible in the air between you. The moment stretched, every second amplifying the tension.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you thought back to the memories you'd shared together. Each recollection felt like a dagger to the heart—the lingering gazes, the fleeting moments when you sought solace in his arms, the fragile bond you believed was forming between you. Perhaps it had all been a figment of your imagination, a desperate illusion in the midst of chaos.

The realization struck you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless and reeling. The weight of it pressed down on you, squeezing the air from your lungs and making your chest ache. You remembered the way his eyes would soften, the rare, fleeting smiles that had given you hope, the comforting warmth of his embrace. But now, those memories felt like cruel jokes, mocking your naïve belief in a connection that perhaps never truly existed.

The Ghoul sighed, running his tongue over his teeth as his gaze briefly flickered to the ground before locking back onto you. "What are you gonna do?" he asked, his tone softer but still edged with irritation. "Don't be so foolish; you wouldn't last a second out there alone."

"Maybe not, but that's no concern of yours," you retorted, refusing to meet his gaze. "If you don't want us, then we don't want you either." You placed a firm hand on the swell of your belly, feeling the life growing inside you.

A small flurry of movement, a determined kick from within, gave you a momentary pause. The sensation was both a reminder and a source of strength. You sniffed, drawing in a shaky breath, and willed your voice to work as you finally looked up at him through bleary eyes, the tears making everything a blur. "Leave," you commanded, your voice trembling but resolute.

He sighed again and moved toward you with an outstretched hand, but you stopped him mid-step. "Go! Get out!" you shouted, your voice echoing off the walls.

The Ghoul looked at you exasperatedly. "There's nothing for you here with me, do you understand? Dispel any romantic notions you have about me, darlin'. I am not a good man," he said, his eyes pleading with you. "But it doesn't mean I want you in harms way—far from it. Just listen to me, dammit."

His words cut through the air like a knife, sharp and final. "I said get out!" You shouted again, your hand gripped the Pip-Boy on the nightstand, and with a surge of adrenaline, you hurled it towards him. He ducked just in time, the metal device shattering against the wall behind him. Shards of glass and metal scattered across the floor, the sharp sound punctuating the tension in the room.

He straightened up, his eyes wide with shock. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by your heavy breathing. You sat there, chest heaving, eyes blazing with a mix of fury and desperation. The broken pieces of the Pip-Boy lay on the floor, a stark reminder of the irreparable rift between you.

"Just leave," you said, your voice now a raw whisper. "We don't need you." The determination in your eyes left no room for argument. He hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on you, before turning and walking out of the room, the door closing behind him with a finality that echoed through the stillness.

A few hours later, a knock on the door startled you from your sobs. The door creaked open, and an elderly man entered. His features bore the unmistakable signs of ghoulification: mottled, decaying skin and sunken eyes. Despite his unsettling appearance, his expression was warm and kind, a gentle smile softening the harsh lines of his face.

You eyed him warily as he stepped into the room, each movement slow and deliberate, as if he was conscious of not alarming you further. The contrast between his ghastly visage and the kindness in his eyes created a strange, almost disorienting juxtaposition, leaving you uncertain but cautiously hopeful.

"Good to see you awake," he greeted with a gentle smile, his voice carrying a soothing, raspy tone. He moved toward your bedside with a practiced ease that spoke of long experience and familiarity with such situations. His steps were steady and confident, his presence oddly comforting in the wake of the Ghoul's absence. 

He stopped next to you, his eyes briefly scanning the room before focusing on the IV bag connected to your arm. With expert hands, he adjusted the flow, his touch slow and precise. "Your friend said you were feeling better," he remarked, glancing back at you with a reassuring nod. "Looks like the RadAway is working," he commented, his tone imbued with calm confidence. 

The mention of 'your friend' had your eyes darting to the door, replaying the memory of him walking out of it hours before. A sudden dread gripped you as the realization struck: perhaps it really would be the last time you saw him. Why wouldn't it be? You'd told him to leave, said you didn't want him, which was only partially true.

The truth was more complicated. You wanted him. You undeniably craved his affection and needed his approval, but your stubbornness—almost a mirror of his own—kept you from admitting it. He had made it clear that he didn't want you, or at least that's what his words said. Yet, his actions often told a different story, leaving you confused and frustrated.

You weren't going to beg. Pride and self-respect wouldn't allow it, no matter how much your heart ached for him to come back. The conflicting emotions swirled within you, a storm of longing, pride, and hurt. You drew a shaky breath, pushing the thoughts aside as you refocused on the present, determined not to let your vulnerability show.

"Dry your eyes, pet," the doctor said softly, offering you a handkerchief from his pocket. You took it with a grateful smile, dabbed at your wet cheeks until you felt the tears ebb.

"Thank you," you whispered, watching as the yellow liquid filled the tube attached to your arm. "What is RadAway?" you queried, your eyes narrowing slightly with caution as the elderly ghoul continued his examination, his fingers pressing against your wrist to check your pulse.

"It's a medical treatment used to flush radiation from the body," he explained, his voice steady and informative. "It speeds up recovery, especially with injuries like yours." He paused, then gave you a concerned look. "It's essential out here. I'm surprised you don't know about it."

His eyes held a hint of curiosity, perhaps even worry, as he studied your reaction. The weight of his gaze made you acutely aware of your vulnerability and the gaps in your survival skills, but his tone remained kind, without a trace of judgment.

You sniffed and feigned a smile. "I'm still getting my bearings on the surface," you said, your voice small.

His eyes flickered with an unspoken understanding, a subtle nod acknowledging the enormity of adjusting to life above ground. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly in a sympathetic smile, and he placed a reassuring hand on your arm.

"That makes sense," he replied softly, his voice full of understanding. "It's a lot to take in, but you're lucky your friend got you here when he did. He almost woke the whole town with his hollering. I was in the middle of a quiet evening when the commotion started. I looked out the window and saw him rushing through the streets, carrying you in his arms. Poor feller, the colour drained straight from his face with all the worry—well, as much as it can drain from us irradiated folk."

He paused, shaking his head slightly with a wry smile. "He was frantic, you know, practically bursting through the door, demanding help. I've seen people in desperate situations before, but the way he looked at you... It was clear you mean a lot to him."

The doctor's words painted a vivid picture, but you shook your head, dispelling the hopeful image he conjured. The Ghoul's actions came about as a result of you flaking out on him during his urgency to get away from that house. Despite wanting to believe otherwise, you reminded yourself that you didn't mean anything to him.

"He was just trying to get away," you murmured, more to yourself than to the doctor. "I collapsed, and he didn't have a choice."

The doctor studied you for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "Maybe," he conceded gently, "but actions speak louder than words. Sometimes, people show they care in ways they can't admit to themselves."

You didn't respond, letting his words linger in the air as he pulled a rusted stethoscope from his coat, preparing to listen to your heart. The cold metal pressed against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of your conflicting thoughts.

As the doctor listened intently, you couldn't help but replay the moments of the Ghoul's protectiveness in your mind. The anguish on his face when he found you at the house, the curl of his finger beckoning you closer, his arms wrapping tightly around you as you lost yourself in his touch. Had you really imagined those moments? The ones before those? They felt as real as the beat of your heart pounding against your chest at the thought of them.

The tenderness in his eyes, the security of his embrace—it all seemed too genuine to be mere figments of your imagination. Yet, his harsh words and actions contradicted those fleeting instances of connection, leaving you in a state of confusion and doubt.

But sometimes, kind words did slip through. You remembered what he had said hours ago, before the shouting: you had told him that he couldn't get rid of you, and his response had been a soft admission, almost lost in the tension of the moment. "Wouldn't want to," he'd said.

You were so hurt by his past rejection, by his constant pushing you away rather than addressing any feelings he may harbour, that you didn't stop to consider, in the heat of the moment, that perhaps you were doing the exact same thing when you told him to leave.

The doctor finished his examination and removed the stethoscope, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of concern and curiosity. "Your heart sounds strong," he said, his tone reassuring. "Physically, you're doing better. But don't ignore what's happening inside here," he added, gently tapping his temple.

You nodded absently, his advice barely registering as you continued to grapple with your emotions. The lines between reality and wishful thinking blurred, and you found yourself longing for clarity in the midst of the turmoil.

"Would you like me to check?" he asked, gesturing to your stomach that you still hugged protectively. You blinked, slow to understand until he mouthed 'the baby.' He was a genuine doctor, or as close to one as you could find in the wastelands. The individuals who had held you captive in the vault were more torturers disguised as scientists than actual healers. However, the risk of revealing your pregnancy was not lost on you, especially after recent events.

His hands stilled as he met your gaze with an understanding that seemed to stretch beyond the typical patient-doctor exchange. It was evident he had a wealth of experience dealing with the unique challenges of the wasteland, a far cry from the so-called doctors of your past who had hidden cruelty behind their clinical masks.

"Yes please," you replied, your voice tinged with apprehension. You hesitated, weighing the risk of revealing too much against the need to know your child's fate. "Is my baby okay? Can you tell me?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, yet laden with the weight of your worries and hopes.

The elderly ghoul's expression softened further, and he nodded slowly, placing a reassuring hand on your arm. "Let's take a look," he said gently, reaching for a small, somewhat battered handheld device from his bag. He moved the device slowly over your abdomen, his eyes focused intently on the faint screen.

After a moment, he looked up, a small smile breaking through his weathered features. "From what I can see, your baby seems to be doing just fine," he announced softly. "The heartbeat is strong and steady. You're both fighters, that's clear."

Relief washed over you upon hearing the doctor's reassuring words, easing some of the persistent tension that had gripped you since you regained consciousness. Your eyes instinctively sought the Ghoul's, and your heart dropped at the sight of the empty chair.

"A few more days of rest and you should be back on your feet," the doctor said, gently covering your stomach with the thin sheet. He reached into his bag and pulled out a small bottle of pills. "Take one a day with food, and if you come into contact with any large bouts of radiation, double the dose until you can get some RadAway," he instructed, handing you the bottle.

The torn label read Rad-X, and you turned it in your hand, trying to decipher the rest of the words. The doctor watched you with a patient expression, his gaunt features softening as he spoke. "Rad-X is used to increase your resistance to radiation," he explained, his voice steady. "It’s different from RadAway, but just as important, especially with your...relations," he finished, and your cheeks burned at his insinuation.

You thanked the doctor when he promised to check on you again soon before leaving the room. As the door closed behind him, you sighed and settled back into your pillow. Relief washed over you knowing your baby was healthy, but the sense of being on your own left your heart heavy. The room felt both too big and too small, the deafening silence pressing in on you as you stared at the Rad-X label, contemplating the uncertain future that lay ahead.

You didn't see the Ghoul after that, but a supply of RadAway and bullets appeared on your bedside table. The sight of the neatly arranged supplies made you pause, a mix of surprise and gratitude washing over you. You assumed it was his doing, imagining him sneaking in during the night amidst the few hours you'd managed to sleep. The thought of him moving silently through the darkened room, leaving behind the essentials you needed, brought a bittersweet pang to your heart.

A woman named Ada, who you had come to learn was the owner of the establishment, dropped in regularly to bring you warm meals. They were hearty and nourishing, intended to build your strength, but your appetite was often suppressed by the weight of your thoughts and the loneliness that settled in your heart. Ada's gentle encouragement and understanding smile were small comforts in the otherwise stark and quiet room.

She chatted with you during her visits, sharing stories about the settlement and its inhabitants, giving you a glimpse of the life that awaited you once you were well enough to leave the confines of your room, if you were to stay in town. Her tales painted a picture of a tight-knit community, resilient and resourceful, each person playing a vital role in their collective survival.

"The Ghoul, he's gone," she informed you on morning, her voice gentle but firm. "I do hope you'll consider staying. He's covered your keep for more than enough time." She rested her hand on your shoulder, her touch warm and reassuring. "It's not safe out there alone."

Her words hit you like a wave, the reality of his absence sinking in. The weight of his generosity and care pressed heavily on your heart. Her eyes were filled with concern, reflecting the danger that awaited beyond the safety of this town, and her kindness was a small comfort in the midst of your turmoil, a reminder that you still had allies even in his absence.

"Thank you, Ada," you said, offering her a smile despite the worry inside of you. "But I have to go."

The morning sun cast a gentle glow on her face, highlighting the kindness in her eyes. She nodded, her own smile reflecting a mixture of pride and concern. "Where will you go?"

You eyed the map in your hands, the one you had taken from the Ghoul the day you left to find the vials. Your eyes traced the path that led to the haven, a route marked with careful notations and warnings. The map had become a lifeline, a tangible connection to him and his meticulous planning.

During the last few days of your bedrest, you had spent hours poring over it, mapping out your journey, and planning stops for resting and loading up on supplies. The intricate details on the map showed the effort he had put into ensuring your safety on your journey to the haven, each mark a testament to his care.

It wasn't until that morning, as you packed your bag and ran your hand over the tattered paper, that your resolve solidified. The realization that he had crafted this map specifically for you, considering every possible danger and refuge along the way, filled you with a bittersweet determination.

"I'm going to find him," you told her, your eyes steely with persistence as you adjusted your backpack over your shoulder. "There are some things I left unsaid," you finished, your voice resolute. 

You hugged her goodbye and thanked the doctor for his car on your way out. When you left the clinic, your gun felt heavier on your hip, the burden of not having the Ghoul there for your protection weighing it down.

Navigating through the bustling streets, you kept a firm grip on the map, each step taking you further from the comfort of Ada and the doctor's care and deeper into the unknown. Vendors continued to call out, their voices blending into a distant hum as you made your way toward the town's edge.

As you reached the outskirts of the town, the lively sounds of the marketplace faded behind you, replaced by the vast silence of the open desert. You paused for a moment, breathing deeply, taking in the endless expanse of sand and scrub stretching out before you. The horizon shimmered with heat, the sun high and relentless in the sky.

You questioned whether you were making the right choice in attempting to find the Ghoul. The vast, treacherous wasteland stretched out in every direction, offering countless places for him to disappear. He could have gone anywhere, but deep down, you felt certain that he wouldn't retrace his steps. He would likely stay as far away from Mags' home as possible, avoiding any place with too many memories or potential danger.

Then, the hairs on your arm stood to attention at the familiar sound of spurs jingling on the ground behind you. The distinct, rhythmic clinking sent a surge of recognition through you, and a hopeful smile began to tug at your lips. However, before you could turn around, the cold, unyielding metal of a gun barrel pressed firmly against your temple, sending a chill down your spine and freezing you in place.

Your breath caught in your throat, and your heart pounded in your chest, the sudden shift from hope to fear almost too much to process. The coolness of the barrel contrasted starkly with the warmth of the sun on your skin.

"I'll ask you this just once," a rough voice growled from behind, the command filled with menace. "Where is Cooper Howard?"

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