Broken Machinery

Pixel Arcade

Ultraviolence

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you like it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Broken Machinery

Pt. 5 (completed series)

Series masterlist

Connor RK800 x fem!reader

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

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

Word Count: 5k

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

Connor was in your living room.

Connor was in your living room staring at a flower. 

Connor was in your living room. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trust needs to go both ways.

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

Connor nodded and fixed his sleeves, “Done.”

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

A black dahlia.

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

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

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

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

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

“Do I have any choice?”

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

Moving him in was easy. 

He literally only owned the flower.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh, that usually works.” 

FIND A WAY INSIDE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BRING HANK CLEAN CLOTHES

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

“Hey, cutie.”

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

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

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

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

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

Why did his humans have to be so complicated?

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

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

HANK HAS SUICIDAL TENDENCIES

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure this is the place?”

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

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

“Is there something wrong, detective?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Coming, Lieutenant.” 

He barely heard you mutter, “I bet.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re such a-”

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

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

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

EXAMINE VICTIM

EXAMINE ANDROID

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

“-can’t even do his job right.” 

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

“How did he miss that?”

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

EXAMINE VICTIM

EXAMINE ANDROID

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

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

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

“We’ve made worse.”

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

“Think you can do it?”

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

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

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

“Yes.” 

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

“No, no it wasn’t me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Very much so.”

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

SEARCH FOR BLUE BLOOD TRAIL

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oof-“ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY^

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s probably better this way.”

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

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

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

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

May I add you to my slasher writers list? Also, there is a link limit to a post so for your master list. May I suggest horror then link then house of wax then link then Vincent Sinclair, then link?

Ofc! And thanks for the tip, but I spent so much time editing my masterlist tonight I can't be bothered to fix it right now lol 😭 But that's definitely a helpful tip

your cooper story is seriously the best fic for him ive read so far, what an enthralling read. the way you wrote coop was so realistic, you captured his rawness in every essence to a T. Not to mention how well you fleshed out their relationship, everything was so deliciously paced, and that ending left me wanting moreeeee! I'm so excited to read what other works you put out for him in the future

Aww thank you so much! That’s so sweet. I wish I’d seen this earlier but I’ve been busy with a lot of school stuff. I did just post another work for him, I wrote it as a one shot but now I don’t know if I want to add more.

Usually it’s video games instead of music but this is pretty much accurate hehe

big bad wolf - Diokophobia is the irrational and extreme fear of being chased.

starring: Logan Howlett as the monster in the woods

wicked influence - Daemonophobia is the intense fear of demons, demonic possession, and otherworldly influence

starring: Stu & Billy as our devoted men of the cloth

paranormal love - Phasmophobia is the intense fear of ghosts, haunting, and possessions.

starring: James ‘Bucky’ Barnes as our haunted leading man

haunted past - Mnemophobia is the fear of memories and past events

starring: Mike Schmidt as our underpaid hero

I absolutely love your Cooper Howard x reader fanfic! I love how you capture Cooper’s character complexity. The fact that he (loves?) the reader but can’t accept it because of his past trauma is just on point! Also, the fact that you post so consistently is amazing too!

The (loves?) is the only proper way to describe their relationship bc they are both so traumatized and confused neither of them really know how to function with or without the other

I post so consistently bc I’ll put on headphones and it’s like BOOM three hours later I have another chapter. I’m just hoping I don’t lose steam bc I’ve just gotten really sick and feel like I’m getting kicked in the teeth by the flu

I just wanna say I search your tumblr everyday and read your fics over and over again! They are amazing! 💜

you guys need to stop being nice to me.

im on my period and can't stop crying

ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏʏ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴅᴏᴏʀ

͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝖲𝗍𝗎 𝖬𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗋 x fem!reader

╔═ A/N ═╗ Based on this request. I apologize if I got the characterization wrong. I just feel like the darker side to his character is never properly explored. As goofy as he was, he was also a serial killer lmao

✬ Summary ✬ Stu's your best friend, you know him as well as you know yourself. At least you thought so. A snoop through his closet leads to a terrifying discovery. Now, everywhere you turn, that haunting mask is right there waiting.

“God,” you toss the remote on the cushion beside you. It bounces off the oversized couch and flops to the floor. “There’s nothing on TV,” you lament, draping yourself dramatically over the cushions. 

Stu snickers and kicks his legs over the arms of his chair, shrugging with a smug look. “I told you we should have stopped by the video store.” His gaze drifts back toward the TV, grimacing at the obnoxiously loud MTV episode you stopped on. 

“Hell no, Randy’s working tonight,” you scold, sharp gaze snapping toward him. He’s got a stupid grin on his face, clearly having decided that his form of entertainment tonight is going to be pissing you off. “I don’t feel like having him critique me for an hour on my poor taste in movies.”

He snorts and reaches to take a large handful out of the popcorn on the coffee table between you. “Maybe if you didn’t just rent stupid chick flicks all the time, he wouldn’t.” 

Stu doesn’t have time to duck as you chuck one of his mom’s overpriced throw pillows at him. “Don’t act like you don’t love Pretty in Pink.” The pillow knocks the popcorn out of his hand, scattering it across the ornate rug Mrs. Macher bought last week. If she saw the state you’d gotten the house in this weekend, that ever-pulsing vein in her head would burst. As it is, they’re never actually at the house, it’s an oasis for practically half the school during the weekends Stu decides to throw a party. 

For the first time in a while, though, it’s just you and Stu. No one else is here to rile him up or force him to put on a show. He’s at his calmest when it’s just the two of you. Which, honestly, doesn’t mean much for him, but still. 

“I do not,” he objects, stretching out his lanky body and getting to his feet. 

You roll your head lazily to face him, giving him a knowing smirk. “Billy isn’t here, Stu. You don’t have to lie,” you assure him, holding out your arms as he stops in front of you. You already know what he wants, he’s got that specific gleam in his eye as he smiles down at you. 

“I mean,” he shrugs, “it’s not bad,” he concedes. Without another word, he throws himself on top of you, even prepared for it, you still feel the breath rush out in one hefty wheeze. Another thing you don’t see as much when others are around, just how goddamn clingy he is. 

Sure, with his multitude of girlfriends, he’s touchy. But this is something different entirely. He clings to you like he would burrow into your skin if he could. He’s been that way since you guys were kids. While the feeling of others touching you might set you on edge, Stu fits against you like your missing piece. 

Hands drifting up to play with his hair, you settle yourself against the cushions while he goes back to channel surfing, pleased to have you as his pillow. 

The TV drones on, a dull buzz in the background now that Stu has the volume down. With his head practically buried between your boobs and your legs wrapped around his waist, you snicker. 

Frowning, he props his chin on your chest, staring up at you. “What?” He demands, hating to be left out of a joke. 

“Nothing,” you shrug as much as you can with him steadily pancaking you. “Just wondering what your girlfriend would think of us like this.”

“Oh,” he sets his head back down and places your hands back on his head to continue playing with his hair. “We broke up,” he tells you, like it means absolutely nothing. 

“Stu!” You slap his shoulder, and he winces dramatically. As if you could ever do real damage to him. 

“Ow!” He whines, bracketing himself up on his elbows so he can look down at you. “What’s your problem tonight?”

His hips are still lazily pressed against you, pressure increasing the longer he hovers above you. Swallowing thickly, you try to ignore the flush spreading through you. “You didn’t tell me you guys broke up.”

He rolls his eyes, glaring down at you. “I just did,” he points out sarcastically. You swat at his shoulder again, but this time, he catches your hand in his, lacing your fingers together with a smug grin as he keeps you trapped. 

“You’re collecting these girls like they’re trading cards.” Despite his tight grip, you manage to slip out slightly from under him and prop yourself against the arm of the couch. “I don’t even remember the last one’s name.”

His face goes slack, lips parting as you see the cogs in his brain turning. He laughs and glances back at you with a dismissive shrug. “Neither do I. I just remember the tits.”

“Ugh,” you yank your hand out of his, ignoring his petulant frown. “You’re absolutely disgusting. What’s the point of even dating them?”

He slinks back against the other end of the couch. “I just said why,” he points to your chest with a grin, and you reflexively cross your arms. Stu tips his head back, dangling it over the edge as he stares up at the ceiling with a forlorn sigh. “I don’t get it,” he tosses his hands up, and you already know where this is going. 

Head tipped back up, he narrows his eyes at you, “I don’t know why we don’t just date.”

You give him a deadpan look, arms still tight around your chest. “Dude,” you chide, “after what you just told me. Seriously?” When you were younger, him saying this used to set you alight. You’d get all dreamy-eyed, imagining what it would be like to be Stu’s girlfriend. Of course, you’d taken too long thinking about it, and by then, he’d already found a different girl to set his sights on. It had broken your heart, and their relationship had barely even lasted a week. 

By now, you know better than to take anything he says seriously. Everything’s just one big joke to him. He’s so fickle you can’t trust that he would actually put effort into anything more blooming between you. You seem to be the only girl in his life that he actually thinks of as a person, going on a few dates with him isn’t worth screwing that up. Besides that, you’re not going to ruin the only friendship you’ve ever had that’s lasted more than two months. 

Stu opens his mouth like he wants to say anything, but it snaps shut a moment later. His face sets into a glower, and you worry for a moment that you might have actually hurt his feelings. You’ve always thought the suggestion was just a sort of inside joke between the two of you. Though, he has been bringing it up more and more lately. 

Your stomach flips unpleasantly, heart aching with guilt. It doesn’t last long, the feeling always remains fleeting. You’ve conditioned yourself for years to dismiss anything that might actually encourage you to pursue something with Stu. You love him, but you two would just be a spark waiting to light up. 

“You’re staying the night, right?” Stu changes the subject, picking up the remote once more and not meeting your eye. Your lips part, and he cuts a glare toward you, “No girlfriend,” he stops you before you can even say anything. Your brows furrow, and he looks back to the TV. “No sleepovers if I’m dating,” he mocks the pitch of your voice, reminding you of the rule you'd enforced so long ago. Your lips fall in a flat, irritated line at his imitation of you. 

“No girlfriend,” he reminds you, feigning indifference even though you can see right through him. Your plan was to go home, but you know him well enough by now. The set of his jaw, the stubborn way he won’t look at you, there’s no actual choice. You’re staying.

“Yeah,” you acquiesce with a low huff. “I’ll need to borrow some clothes.”

“You know where they are,” he tells you, still not meeting your eye. He’s never been this sensitive after you’ve rejected him before. What’s his problem? Eyes narrowed, you get to your feet, glaring at him the whole way up the stairs. He never loses the indifferent look, passive-aggressively turning the TV up. 

Usually, you just grab some pants from the guest room. But with Autumn descending, it’s been getting colder, especially in Stu’s drafty old house. There’s a soft yellow sweater that you’ve always tried to steal from him, and he’s never let you get away with it. 

Nabbing it would probably ease up the weird tension. He is a freak, he does love seeing you in his clothes. You figure it’s a solid plan and slip across the hallway, quietly opening his bedroom door. 

As always, his room is a hot damn mess. The bed’s unmade, sheets completely untucked, and half of them sprawled across the floor. There’s a clearly well-loved nudie mag lying open on his nightstand, boobs bared boldly to the world. Rolling your eyes, you shake your head and turn toward his closet. 

Your brows furrow, head tilting at the closed door. As odd as it is, Stu never closes his closet. It’s just another tedious task to him. Besides, he likes to just ball all his clothes up and toss them in wildly. You know his family’s old maid threatened to quit if she had to clean his room ever again. But you wouldn’t believe that looking into the closet now. 

It’s not just clean, it’s pristine. Clothes hung up, sorted by color and sleeve length. Jeans all neatly folded away. The box of old books and junk he had just lying about are tucked up on the top shelf. “What the hell?” You whisper, looking around like you just stepped into Narnia. 

Hell, maybe it’s a portal to a bizarro dimension, it would make more sense than him cleaning up after himself. Whatever, you don’t have time to dwell on Stu’s oddities, you’d just be standing here forever if you did. 

You start in the yellow section of his closet, then drift toward the sweaters. And, of course, the only one you want isn’t anywhere to be found. It has to be buried somewhere in here, and you’re not giving up until that sweater is yours. You dig through his folded pile of jeans recklessly, hoping for a bright spot of yellow to be buried somewhere within them. 

Tugging a little too hard on one of the stacks, something hard clatters against the wooden floor of his closet. “Ah, shit,” you hiss, shoving the jeans back and kneeling to try and spot whatever fell. Lowering your head to the ground, you peer under the hems of his shirts on the lower rack and squint into the shadows. 

There’s a vague shape of something, and you reach toward it. Head tilted the other way, your arm stretches under the sweaters, blindly groping for whatever you sent tumbling. Your fingers snag on fabric, and you grin, thinking it’s the sweater you’ve been coveting. 

Pulling it out, your smile stills, heart rapidly increasing speed until it feels like it’s going to beat out of your ribs. There’s a twisting pain in your stomach, anguish and immediate denial flooding through you as you stare down at the mask in your hands. 

It’s just a cheap drugstore mask. Around Halloween, you could find it anywhere. You could easily dismiss it as something Stu bought as a fucked up joke. Were it not for the flaking copper on the chin of the howling mask. Your fingers tighten around it until you think it might crack. 

Slowly, you tilt your head back toward the shirts. This wasn’t what fell. A part of you screams to just chuck the mask back and pretend you never saw it. You could go downstairs, continue your movie night with Stu, and pass out beside him on the couch. Lying to yourself would be so damn easy. It’s just a mask, half the guys in school bought one because they thought it was a fucking joke. 

But your body isn’t interested in weak excuses. Bowing over, your hand swipes across the wood once more, wrapping around the object that fell. Before you even drag it out, you already know what you’re going to see. A pulsing pain spreads through your chest, eyes watering as you stare down at the knife in your hand. 

A serrated hunting knife, to be exact. The same one Dewey said was used to kill Casey only a week ago. God, how had you not seen this? How could you have been so blind?

Stu had been the number one suspect, but Billy had been his alibi, no one could place him at the scene of the crime.

There has always been something twisted about Billy. It only got worse when his mom left. Maybe this was all his idea, maybe Stu was just dragged into this, but he doesn’t really want-

Your thoughts fade into a dull silence in the back of your mind. There’s no excuse. Stu has always been different, just slightly off. His jokes nearing the wrong side of dark. But you never would have thought him capable of something so brutal. 

Footsteps sound up the stairs, and your brain shocks itself awake. Quickly, you toss the mask back under the clothes and shove the knife into the jeans. Wiping your eyes, you leap to your feet and rush out of the closet just as Stu barrels into his room. 

The both of you pause, staring blankly at each other. You, a deer caught in a hunter’s snare. He, the drooling wolf, waiting to pounce. 

Slowly, his eyes drift toward the closet, the light you left on, and the door you hadn’t had time to close. He turns back to you, and something twisted curls at the edges of his lips. Adrenaline shoots so fast through you it nearly knocks you off your feet. 

“Looking for something?” His tone is light, barely audible, as he takes a step closer. It takes every ounce of self-control not to back away from him. 

Something too strained to be a smile curls your lips up. “Um,” you lick your lips, swallowing down the dryness coating your tongue. You laugh nervously and take a step toward his bed. “Just that sweater I love. 

He stalks towards you, and your eyes widen, heart fluttering in your chest. Just when you think he might run you over, he steps around you and heads toward his dresser. You turn, afraid to take your eyes off of him. 

Peeking above the corner of a drawer is a yellow sleeve. He slips it out easily, holding it out to you with a grin that shows off all his teeth. “Thank you,” you whisper, voice cracking around the words as you snatch the sweater out of his hands. 

“I made more popcorn,” he tells you, eyes wild as he stares down at you. “Halloween’s on.” It’s a simple invitation to a movie, but it feels like there’s a knife to your back. You have no choice but to step out of the room and head down the stairs. Every bit of you screams to act natural, to pretend that there’s nothing wrong. 

How could you be? Your best friend, the boy you’re practically in love with, is slaughtering your friends. He’s running rampant through your town and killing girls just because they broke up with him. 

Risking a glance over your shoulder, you see him already looking at you. The smile is gone, now he’s just watching you with this bemused expression, like he’s waiting for you to break and make a run for it. 

You take a seat on the couch, lean against the pillows, and glue your eyes to the screen. Suddenly, Jamie Lee Curtis babysitting is the most interesting thing in the world to you. Stu takes his seat beside you, sinking into your side and wrapping his arms around your waist. Stiff as a board, you can’t find it in you to return the touch, too petrified by the thought of all the blood on his hands. 

He doesn’t care for your trepidation, taking your arms and wrapping them around himself. He presses his face into the crook of your neck, lips brushing against the sensitive skin as he speaks. “What’s your favorite scary movie?”

Avoiding Stu has been easier than you thought it would. Usually, he’s more persistent in making you hang out with him. Especially when your parents are both out of town at the same time. But he’s been suspiciously quiet since you prematurely ended your weekend stay last week. 

You managed to make it through the night. Though, while Stu dozed on top of you, you had been wide awake. Limbs stiff, eyes unblinking, the whole night had been spent on high alert. You’re not sure if he knows you know, or just suspects it. Either way, you should have turned him in by now. 

The second you left his house, you should have gone straight to the sheriff. You know who's behind the Woodsboro murders. You know who the infamous Ghostface is, and have a suspicion who his other half might be. You could have stopped all this. 

Casey and Steve would be avenged. If you had something, another person wouldn’t have been killed two days ago. You didn’t know him personally, you’d never even seen Stu or Billy interact with him. But this felt less like an attack on him and more like a threat for you. 

Keep quiet, or you’ll be strung up by your intestines. 

Triple checking all your doors and windows are locked, you head upstairs to your room. Prepared to camp out for another sleepless night. If you turned him in, you wouldn’t have to live with this paranoia anymore. Every corner you turn wouldn’t be prefaced with the idea that he might be waiting behind it. No matter how hard you try, you can’t pick up the phone and call the cops. 

You lay back on your bed, listening to the radio in the hopes it might lull you to sleep. It never works, but you hold out hope. The shrill ring of your home phone echoes throughout your empty home. Sitting up on your elbows, you glare at your closed door like it might shut the damn thing up. 

Abruptly, it cuts off. The empty halls of your home fall silent once more, the low droning of your radio barely audible above the blood rushing through your head. You hold your breath, eyes peeled on the door in front of you, waiting for… something. 

The phone goes off again, and you jump, shooting off your bed and grabbing the bat by your nightstand. Slowly, you open your door, peeking your head out before you attempt to cross the hall to your parent’s room. There’s a phone in there, and you’re more comfortable up here than you are beside your glass patio doors downstairs. 

You practically kick the door open, jumping inside the room like you’re prepared to bludgeon someone with your bat. The shadows are thick inside, but you don’t see a cloaked figure waiting for you within one. Feeling confident enough, you run toward your parent’s nightstand and grab the phone. Running back to your room as fast as you can and slamming the door closed behind you, you sink to the floor. 

Thumb hovering over the button, you let out a shaky breath and answer. “Hello?” You try and instill confidence in your voice, but you can’t hide the tremor. 

“Hey,” Billy’s voice croons on the other end, he says your name, and a shudder rolls down your spine. 

“Billy?” His name is a hoarse croak as you feel your heart thud dully inside your chest. “What’s up?”

“I just wanted to tell you something.” He pauses, and you bite your lip, nails digging into your palms as you wait for him to speak. “I’ve always wondered,” there’s a click, and then a raspier, unfamiliar voice speaks, “what do your insides look like?”

Something slams against your front door, and you drop the phone with a shrill scream, jumping to your feet and whirling around. You hear Billy’s distorted cackle echo through the speaker before abruptly cutting off. On the floor, three low beeps sound out. Bending down, you pick up the bulky phone and press it to your ear. Nothing but white noise. You toss the phone on your bed and swallow down another scream. No service. 

You’re all alone. 

The startling realization of silence rushes over you, gooseflesh rises along your arms, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. The banging downstairs has quieted and your house is once more silent. But it’s no longer the same vacant stillness it was before. There’s someone here, it’s an instinctive feeling. Long buried prey instincts warning you of a predator sniffing you out.  

Creeping quietly across the floor, you avoid the creaky wood that would give your movements away and once more open the door. It seems foolish to put yourself so boldly out in the open. Being cornered in that room is no better. No matter what, it’s just you and him all alone out here. 

You wonder, as you peek your head around the banister, if this is just Stu stalking you. Is Billy getting rid of a liability? Is it both of them?

One, you could handle on your own. But if it was the both of them, the only thing you could do was go down swinging. If you were going to die tonight, you weren’t going to let it be easy for either of them. 

Your front door is wide open, an easy escape. There was no point in running. Either one of them is waiting outside for you, or they’ve cut the brakes on your car. You crouch, peering through the railings and silently making your way down the stairs. Try as you might, you don’t see signs that anyone has come inside. 

Besides the door, there are no clues to give away where they might have gone. You don’t want to play the role of the bimbo in their sick fantasy. Despite the instinct to call out for someone, you swallow it down and continue through your home. 

Beyond the stark terror of facing your own mortality, there is also the pain of being so thoroughly betrayed by Stu. You know the truth of what he is, of what Billy is. And you kept it quiet. You buried his dark secret like it was your own, protected him. This is how he repays you?

This is his answer after years of you loving him. How could he?

You stand in the middle of your living room, bat hanging limp by your side. The aching pain of grief and fear stills your body. The fight wanes inside you, debating whether or not prolonging this is worth it. The others all fought back, and they died bloody. Maybe if you just gave in, it would be quick, painless. Stu could at least grant you that. 

There’s a brief flash of movement in the reflection of your patio door. It’s slight, like a shifting shadow. Only one thing gives him away, the white, howling mask. Instinct overrides sensitivities, you whip around, bat flying. There’s a low groan as it smashes over his head. 

Reaching up, he snatches it in his hand, using it to jerk you forward. You’re quick to let it go. Instead, you aim for his throat. Hands outstretched as you reach up, gripping his neck as tight as you can. There’s shock in his stuttered breaths, like he hadn’t thought you would fight back. You were beginning to doubt yourself, too. 

Turns out you’re too stubborn to die. 

The bat clacks loudly against the wood as he stumbles back into your mother’s glass coffee table. His legs kick up, tripping you and sending you stumbling into his chest. The both of you go plummeting backward, glass shattering around him and the wood crumpling like a tower of cards. 

Jagged shards cut at your arms and bare legs, but you know he takes the brunt of it. Your grip on his throat is unrelenting, you pick his head up and slam it against the wood. He lets out a dazed groan, and you would laugh were you not trying to stop your best friend from killing you. He seems ridiculous, wearing this stupid cheap mask and moaning like a cartoon character with a bump on their head. 

He bucks under you, hips pressing up against yours as he flips you both over. Pain rips through your back as the glass digs into your skin. Letting out a low whine, your hands slack on him for just a moment. It’s still long enough for him to get the upper hand. 

He straddles your waist, pinning you below him with his weight as he kneels on your swinging arms. You’re utterly paralyzed, with no other choice but to stare up at him as tears stream, hot and slick, down your cheeks. 

Stu rips his mask off, eyes wild as he grins down at you. “Damn, sweetheart,” he laughs, and it only makes you fight harder against him. Screaming through your teeth as you try to buck him off of you. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

He tosses the mask to the side and motions to the knife in his hand, “Surprise,” he practically sings the word, watching for your reaction. You bite your tongue, hiccuping on a sob as you stare up at him through blurry eyes. “Right,” he concedes, tilting his head, “you already knew.”

You can feel the blood pooling beneath you, the glass digging further into your shredded skin. It only makes this all the more unbearable. “Stop,” you beg, voice breaking as you struggle to hold back the tears. “I didn’t tell,” you shout at him. “Why are you doing this?” The tears break around the rage slipping through your voice as you glare up at him. 

“What are you talking about?” He snaps, his amusement waning the harder you cry. 

“Billy!” you shout the name out, just barely managing to wiggle one wrist free. He snatches it up instantly, the knife falling beside you as he leans over you, digging your hand into the glass above your head. “He said you wanted to see my insides,” there’s no controlling the sobs now. You don’t want to die. You don’t want Stu to be the one to kill you. Somehow, though, you think this would have hurt worse if it was Billy holding the knife. 

Stu’s face falls before quickly twisting up into something angry. He backs off, easing his weight just enough for the press of glass to sting a little less. “No,” he utters, shaking his head. “No, that’s not the plan.” 

Stu looks nearly manic as he stares down at you. Something unfurls inside you, years of friendship have you reaching up with your free hand. You don’t know what your plan is until he’s leaning into your touch, eyes never leaving yours. 

His hand grips your waist, easing you into a sitting position. You want to curl up into a ball and go hide in a dark corner. You want to shove glass down his throat and run. The knife looks particularly appealing beside you. 

But you do none of that. You let him tug you closer, hand tightening to the point of pain around your waist, but you don’t think he realizes, and you’re too afraid to point it out. “You’re our final girl, baby,” he practically fucking giggles, and you struggle not to flinch from the sound. “He was just fucking with you.”

“Yeah?” You snap, fingers trailing toward his hair and yanking until his face crinkles with pain. “Then what the fuck,” venom coats your tongue, voice low and deadly, “are you doing right now?”

He smiles, leaning into the way you rip at his hair. “Screwing around,” he laughs, and he sounds like a goddamn idiot. Scoffing, you release him, jerking out of his grip and ignoring the way it pulls at the wounds on your back. 

“God,” you crumple into yourself, shoulders hunching forward as you hide your face behind your hands. “I can’t believe I ever thought you could love me. You’re sick, Stu,” you snap, holding back more tears. 

Blood and glass surround you both, the shattered fragments of your friendship. Stu looks more hurt than when you strangled him. He reaches for you, and you jump back, shaking your head. ‘I was never going to kill you,” he swears. But what does the promise of a murderer mean to you?

“I don’t believe you,” voice a whisper, the tears spill over once more. He looks between you and the knife like he can’t decide what to do. You wait for it, for the snap before he just plunges the knife into your gut. Twisting it and dragging your death on. 

Instead, he lunges forward, wrapping his arms around yours and forcing you into his embrace. “Stop,” you claw weakly at his shoulders, snagging your nails in the cheap cloak. You shake your head, but the fight is over before it even begins. Your arms curl around his neck, and you sink into his familiar embrace. 

His gloved hand skates over the wounds on your back, and you whine, arching away from his touch. He offers a whispered apology, but you don’t believe it. “Billy’s not going to touch you,” he swears. “I’m never going to hurt you.”

“You already have.”

His arms only tighten around you, pulling you into his lap as you cry. You might not believe him, but he knows the truth of it. You’re his best friend. The only person besides Billy he’s ever actually cared about. 

You are his perfect final girl, and he’s never going to let you go. 

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