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periprose · 1 month

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Sweet as Nuka Cola

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Reader

You're an upcoming actress who has a constant flirtation with Cooper Howard. But even if things seem to be off to a good start, a nuclear bomb, a cryogenic pod, and two hundred years of carnage ruins all of it. Is there something to be salvaged from your relationship with Mr. Howard?

Genre: Mutual pining, flirting, slow-burn, angst, friends to kind-of enemies to lovers (no cheating but maybe it's a little murky?)

Word Count: 11k

“Action!”

“Hello. Yes, it’s me.” You wave at the camera, adorned in a classic-red sweetheart neckline dress. “You might know me from ‘Girls Want It All’ or ‘Next Door Babe.’”

Here, you play up your recent bombshell status. As Ed, the director of this advert, keeps reminding you, you need to sell yourself to make customers listen.

You sway in your dress, squeezing your arms and throwing your waist back to plump and push out your chest. The implication of the sex appeal in your movies keeps people watching.

But you’re still a rather new actress, so America might not know you so well. You’re glad Nuka Cola has hired you– if you want to be a star, you need more exposure.

“Do you enjoy feeling refreshed?” You cock your head to the camera, pursing your red lips. “Well, golly, what a silly question. Who doesn't?”

“That's where Nuka Cola comes in.” You lift a bottle out of the cooler next to you, all gentle in demeanour, showing off the logo of the bottle to the camera, in your perfectly manicured hands. “With triple the amount of caffeine found in competitor's bottled cola, it's sure to keep you feeling up for a long, long time.”

“And it's good for you.” Ed whispers, a last minute adlib you did not agree to, but you're a professional, so you add it on with a little wink.

“And it sure as heck is good for you.” You smile, the infamous smile that's won you notoriety to Hollywood execs for being the newest bombshell on the block, and you throw your shoulders back as you really lean into your image.

“Cut! That's a wrap, everyone!” Ed, wanting to finish early, quickly starts ushering everyone out so not a cent more gets spent.

You immediately relax out of your practised, professional smile. “Any ADR needed?”

“Don't think so, but we'll let you know.” The director is already moving onto whatever his next project is. Advertisements make more money than anything else these days.

You head over to catering, where you're craving– not a Nuka Cola, considering how much sugar is in that thing it's hardly refreshing at all– but an iced tea.

You stretch out your ankles in your kitten heels as you prepare it. If you told your Ma back in Mojave that the worst thing about fame would be the uncomfortable outfits, she'd smack you. So you keep it to yourself– you're grateful, you're humble, you'll never be an entitled asshole like those fucking execs.

“Watch out, I'm behind ya.” A man gently presses your shoulder as he walks next to you.

You know that voice. Famous movie cowboy, devilishly handsome, easy to admire. A career worth emulating.

“Mr. Howard?” You turn to look at him, and it is him. Wearing a tuxedo suit, smiling his classic, rugged grin at you.

“The one and the only.” He laughs in a self-deprecating way, as a man tired with his fame and used to mocking it. “Hey, wait, don't I know you?”

You immediately feel your face heat up. “Probably not– lots of people have mistaken me for Lucky Yates so far…”

“No, I do know you.” He points a finger at you, while pouring himself a mug of black coffee. “I told you mister, I'm not here for a long time. Just a good one, and if you can't provide it for me, I'll be inclined to look elsewhere.”

Cooper Howard does a perfect impression of your girly, haughty tone from “Girls Want It All”, and it surprises you that he even knows your dialogue that well. You're not used to this much attention, especially not from one of Hollywood's most notable movie stars.

He says your name.

“Yeah, that's me.” You say sheepishly– even though you know you have to fake that confidence, it's hard when you've been caught off guard. You're starstruck– you don't know how to operate, now realizing that even celebrities are noticing you. “Just shooting an ad for Nuka-Cola.”

“Ah, that’s smart of you.” He leans in– about to give you a bit of Hollywood advice, no doubt– and you feel yourself turning warm at the attention he’s giving you. “I wouldn’t expect any less from one of Hollywood’s upcoming stars– residuals aren’t enough to make the world go round.”

You know he’s admiring your street smarts, but you have to ask. “Upcoming, really?”

“Miss, I’m not sure many other actresses could’ve delivered that little monologue I just did without, er, pardon my language,” Cooper takes a sip of his coffee, his eyes peering down at you over the perimeter of the cup. “Fucking it up. Pantomiming too much wily, feminine shit that execs love, without that little edge of real, subtle emotion. I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

You giggle a little. “C’mon, really? I hardly got to act the way I wanted to.”

“That’s how it starts. Little moments, little subtleties where you’re letting your real character shine through– it’s noticeable to the industry. More opportunities come that way. But it’s smart to use, uh…” Cooper swallows, a tiny, imperceptible thing that reminds you of your bombshell image, that he must be thinking about it. “Smart to use such attractive imagery, if you get my drift. The public will eat you up.”

The way he drawls that latter part makes you feel excited, but you keep it down– it’s well known Cooper Howard is a married man, and you are not about to be ruined by an affair. Even if he does sound sort of flirty, this sort of complimenting is so common in Hollywood.

“What are you doing in the advertisement shooting lot?” You ask, changing the subject, and Cooper shrugs, a nonchalant ripple of a movement that tells you his general cool demeanour isn’t just acting.

“Promised my wife I’d shoot an advert for her. Vault-Tec, you know?” He admits, telling you he hasn’t forgotten about his wife, either. “Gotta head to the experimental Vault they’ve set up next door.”

“Yes, of course.” You, like anyone else, have seen the ads of Cooper in the Vault-Tec suit– it’s a rather controversial thing to be partaking in, but you think he knows what he’s doing.

“Well, Nuka-Cola.” He hands you an iced tea– one you didn’t even notice him making for you as you were talking to him. “I’ll see you around.”

The Ghoul walks around the wasteland, two hundred something years into the future.

He’s searching for a bounty– Leopold St. West– worth at least 1000 caps, and it’s terribly difficult to find him when every single person claims he’s in all these different locations, not a single one correlated to each other.

So he’s walking around a destroyed neighbourhood, where Leopold was last seen a day ago, if his fellow ghouls are to be trusted. If he had to guess, these are the remnants of China Town– the faux Asian-esque details, the cheesy red colouring, the false authenticity Hollywood loves to portray as “good as the real thing”. God, Coop does not miss some parts of the fame.

He suddenly stumbles over a piece of the broken sidewalk. Coop’s usually pretty agile, nonchalant on his feet– he knows this feeling. He’s going through withdrawal.

“Shit, I need a minute.” He mutters to himself, feeling a bit woozy.

He's only got a couple more vials of drugs, so he can't be using them all willy-nilly. No, he needs to recoup things and go through this carefully.

Shelter is necessary– the longer Coop is out in the sun, the harsher the effects of withdrawal feel. And, if he’s lucky, one of these buildings might have something for him to loot– more drugs if he’s extra, extra lucky.

Coop enters a nondescript building– where a radroach is waiting, and he immediately fires at it without even looking, killing it in one shot– and he sees the sign over the entry way, marking the lobby.

This is some Hollywood executive-owned club. It’s hard to tell– two hundredyears of wear-and-tear will do that for you– but Cooper Howard distinctly remembers this place, maybe in some conversation back then, maybe when he was networking.

Every single thing has a distinct, thick layer of grime over it. Coop thinks of sweaty strippers dancing, actors cheating on their wives– they’re all probably dead now.

He reaches into his satchel and takes a hit of one of his vials– and hopes he can replace what he uses with something here.

There’s not a single bottle behind the bar, and he jostles through, not seeing a chem or a drug left behind by anyone on the floor or behind the counter, and he’s mildly disgruntled over how every place has nearly everything picked clean by raiders, wastelanders– just other people. Coop will always loathe these other assholes.

He climbs the broken stairs with a lanky, languid stretch, making it over a fairly large hole where a corpse waits on the floor below. A raider who didn’t watch where he was stepping. That tells him there should be loot up on this upper floor– at least a bit of it.

He walks to the one closed door in a less-than-discreet hallway, gold sconces and railings marking the way.

“Ah… private office.” Coop jiggles an ostentatious handle to a mahogany door, that is surely leading to an even more pretentiously ostentatious office, and he finds that it’s locked.

A good sign. Most likely no one’s ever been in there, because it’s probably a difficult lock to pick.

It surprises him that no one’s ever just forced their way through.

Coop doesn’t waste time on this though– he just takes a teeny gun out of his bag, fires it, and admires the hole in the door where the handle used to be. The door creaks open on it’s own, and he saunters into a well furnished, dusty office room.

“Nope, nope, nope…” He pushes box after box in the shelves next to the wall, and they fall with loud clatter– loaded with panicky, nuclear-war-on-the-horizon type shit, like canned meats and beans and preserved jams and pickles. “Fuck no.”

He pushes off a toy figurine of Vault Boy down with extra gusto.

Coop looks behind the desk, where there’s a dusty placard reading Adrian Amos II. He grins– one of the worst producer bastards of all time is not someone he’d feel bad about stealing from, even if there was still some conscience left in him. No, sir, Adrian Amos the second did not deserve any sympathy, especially after the way he was known for bitching about salaries, abusing PAs, and having a predilection for going after less-than-consenting women.

Coop grits his teeth, remembering that asshole and how terrible and gaudy this club was back then. Not that it was better now– but he’s grateful for one man’s deserved death, at least.

He jostles open where the second drawer is filled with the glass clinking sound of many, many vials.

“Fucking jackpot, Jesus.” Coop stares down at how many there are– at least 40 or 50– a hell of a lot to just be left behind.

Well, based on the other supplies, Adrian Amos got fucked over and either didn’t make it to his vault in time, or forgot to run to his private club before heading in.

Coop doesn’t give a fuck, though. He starts piling the vials into his cases, and then back into his bag.

There’s a sudden whirring sound near him. “Huh?”

To his left, an imperceptible secret door has pushed itself outwards, decorated in the same dark brown wallpaper as the rest of the room.

Coop looks down and under– he’s accidentally pressed a secret button on the underside of the drawer. “Fuck.”

He doesn’t know what would be inside the secret room– assassins, raiders waiting on someone to dupe? Maybe even synths, just meant to protect Amos when he needed it.

Inside the room, it’s dark, and he can’t make out anything. Coop can only draw his gun rapidly when there’s a blue light suddenly emitting out from the inside.

He’s careful as he approaches– last thing Coop wants is an ambush– and as his vision improves, he sees it’s a cryonic pod, all frosted over so he can’t make out who’s inside.

Coop sighs, ready to leave it behind– he’s not interested in waking up Amos– and instead, the thing whirs, heating up it’s insides with extremely hot steam, and then opens up with a mechanical flourish.

Coop instinctively steps back, coughing “Holy shit!” as the air whooshes past him.

A body falls out, just looking slightly frosted– mostly thawed by whatever the cryo tank just did.

You're on set again, sitting in a free lawn chair while others get ready for their take– it's not for a Nuka-Cola ad, it's just a guest appearance on everyone's favourite sitcom, The Grady Group, where you play an overly promiscuous babysitter who has no sense for watching over kids.

It's comedic, it's an easy way to get laughs– plus it actually boosts the shows’ ratings since you've been in movies and all. You’re done filming already, you’re just sitting here watching the rest of the shoot, dragging out your return to your car, and then back home.

Something about the fictional family you wait on, Gill and Gina Grady, and their kids Gideon, Gessica, and Gwen, it makes you miss having a family of your own. In fact, you have half a mind to call your mother, despite all the bitching she’ll give you about the things you haven’t done yet.

It also doesn't help that Gill and Gina are a couple in real life– named Arthur and Bea Smith, they really, really are in love, and in between takes they're often canoodling with each other.

You're happy for them, if not a little– jealous, despite the fact that you're not interested in dating anyone right now. At least, you thought you weren't, but you find that lately, when you return back to your apartment all lonesome after a shoot, you feel like something is missing.

“Hey. Nuka-Cola.” Cooper Howard strolls over to where you're sitting, and you smile up at him, covering your eyes from the sunlight streaming through the windows.

“Mr. Howard. Shooting today?” You ask, and he shakes his head.

“Not at all. Just lounging around, waiting for my kid.” He sits in the lawn chair next to you, leaning back, crossing one leg over the other. “Janey is on a field trip at a museum next door– I thought I’d kill some time before picking her up.”

“Ah, cute.” You grin. Janey Howard is an absolutely precious kid– she shares her dad’s smile, but has a curious nature that you admire. “Is she well?”

“As well as kids can be at that age, running around all the time.” Cooper shrugs. “You know how it is.”

“Kind of. I actually did used to babysit kids, so I know– they can never sit still or mind their business.” You laugh as Cooper grins.

“So you went method for your guest appearance, huh?” He asks, and you’re mildly baffled.

“How do you know about that?” You squint at him, just being jokingly suspicious.

“Oh, I saw a few clips of your footage. While I was walking over here.” He points over at Stu, the director, standing on the living room set, watching clips on his viewfinder. “Seemed pretty natural to me.”

It almost bothers you that he seems so interested in you and your work, that he always voices support– but he’s well-known for being happily married, for being content in general, unlike you.

Still, better a friend than nothing at all, that’s what you always tell yourself.

“Thanks. But it’s not hard being around kids, is it?” You reminisce being a kid in Mojave, playing with your friends on your street– and then as a young adult, babysitting new kids that still wanted to play with you. “I still sometimes feel like I’m just a kid pretending to be an adult.”

“That never goes away, darlin’.” Cooper laughs, and you blink. “Being an actor, especially, you’re never losing that childhood sense of wonder, you get my drift?”

“Yeah, of course.” You nod. “I just don’t feel complete, I guess. I’m still waiting for the moment I’ll know I’m an adult– like maybe if I get married or something like that.”

“Being married didn’t change that for me either. Neither did being a dad.” He winces, and scratches at his stubble. “Just don’t tell anyone I said that, but I think it’s all apart of being a human person.”

Your face turns a little more glum at that, and he wonders what he said that bummed you out. It’s not his intention– he wants to cheer you up.

“What’s with the sad, forlorn, ‘I’m-a-pretty-girl-come-comfort-me’ look?” Cooper utters as he leans in, and you laugh a little but silence yourself, recognizing his compliment.

It’s dangerous to flirt with this guy, this taken man who has nothing to gain but a bit of affection he may be missing, but you see that he knows his compliment had effect anyways– and he definitely likes that.

You just choose to assume it’s entirely friendly.

“I just… I like the thought of having a family.” You suck in air,at how foolish and girly this sounds, hardly the cutthroat businesswoman you need to be out here. “This is stupid, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it isn’t.” Cooper taps his arm rest, thinking. “You’re hurting, I can tell. You got that same pissed off look most ladies get when they ‘don’t wanna talk’ but they’re holding tons of shit inside.”

Damn this guy, you think, but you decide to be honest.

“I just didn’t think it’d be so lonely out here. In Hollywood.” You press your palms together. “Like, everywhere I go, I’m surrounded by classic Americana, the nuclear family– and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m jealous.”

“As a bachelorette, don’t you got plenty of options?” Cooper grins. “I mean, are men not lining up to court Nuka-Cola girl?”

“Ah…” You hum, thinking of dates you’ve had here, settling back in your seat. “I don’t know– it’s cheesy but I want more sincerity.”

“In that case, don’t be jealous, marriage ain’t all that.” Cooper tuts, knowing that you of all people should hear about how it doesn’t complete you. “It’s not perfect, it’s not a magical fairy-tale where everything gets solved, it’s a hell of a lot more work than people let on.”

“Oh.” You knew that, deep down– but hearing it from him really solidifies that for you. It’s a silly dream.

It sounds like he’s speaking from experience, so you quiet down. But you’re not trying to get your hopes up about that or anything.

“And you’re not an idiot, Nuka-Cola. Don’t get into something you’re not a hundred fucking percent sure about.” Cooper clicks his tongue. “If you really feel the urge to suddenly go and play wife with someone, just for me, make sure he’s absolutely worth it.”

“For you?” You raise your eyebrows at that.

“I figure you won’t do it for yourself. Love is blind and all that.” He points at himself. “But if I, as your buddy Cooper, hold you to that? I’ll bet that you’ll vet every single guy.”

“Oh, really.” You smirk at him, your nose scrunching a little. “Is that for my benefit, or yours?”

“Uh…” Cooper is truly caught off guard here. He knows he didn’t intend anything by what he said, but it does feel like… he won’t enjoy the fact that if the next few times he talks to you, continuing become close to you, he’ll have to get the approval of some man.

Some man who wouldn’t even know you as long he has known you. He always likes his chats with you, and there’s an urge inside him not to let you go.

He thinks again that you’re a little too spontaneous. Not easy to dupe, no– he can’t just flirt with you for fun because you’ll always pick up on it, even if he did it by mistake.

“No comment.” He finally answers with a raspy, low tone, one that you barely hear but are satisfied by.

A few months later, you check your face in your little compact mirror before stuffing it in your purse and heading inside Sebastian Leslie’s home. Exciting, yes, because this is the first time you’ve been invited not just to network, not just because a big name has seen you in the movies and wants to flaunt that they know you tangentially.

No, this is the first time you know someone, you’re actually in with a crowd– you’re friends with the host. You don’t feel nearly as awkward walking into Sebastian’s comfortable home and seeing familiar faces that you’re close with, decor that you already recognize.

“There she is.” Sebastian greets you with a tight hug– for a massive flirt he’s actually rather protective of you sometimes. “Love the dress, by the way– is that a vintage Chanel? Black is very flattering on you, my dear.”

You get the sense he didn’t want you to be involved in this industry sometimes, but other times– he likes that you put work in.

“I saw your newest advertisement on TV yesterday.” He comments, and you giggle.

“Was it good?”

“Yeah, amazing as usual– but you gotta do more than that.” Sebastian holds your hand as he pulls you into the crowd of other low-level actors, people who could risk showing up, really, and you fix your dress, a black one with a low square neckline. “Look into Vault-Tec– I’ve been telling Cooper here about how our futures are totally going to be surrounded by their products, even though that fucker does not want to listen.”

Cooper’s lounging in a low sofa in the pit of this living room, holding a crystal glass full of amber liquid, black button up shirt half open– he looks dishevelled, hair slightly askew, jaw off-kilter as he presses his tongue into his cheek, thinking. Lost by something, but still put together as celebrities are. Geez, you really need to temper your attraction to him.

It doesn’t help how he looks at you, either– there’s something deep and reverent about his gaze, like he wants to believe whatever he sees when he’s looking at you– but you have no idea if it’s real, or if it’s just an act like with most of these celebrities.

You used to see him a lot more frequently too, over the last few months. Either at set, or at more fancy parties– most of which he’s been perfectly pleasant and kind to you.

“Of course you’d label me as some fucking chairman for them, Seabass.” Cooper slams back half a pint of whisky, and pours himself some more. “Hey, Nuka-Cola.”

“Hey, Mr. Howard.” You smile gently. You’ve heard about his divorce– everyone has, but you’re not 100% sure why it’s happened, why now when things seemed to be going so well for him.

Well is relative, though. You know loads of actors have decried him privately– no one wants to hang out with the man promoting the end of the world, apparently. It must be a tough thing to only be hired for your wife’s advertisements– and even then, you don’t exactly agree with what they’re marketing, either.

You don’t feel so strongly against Cooper, though. Maybe because you do like him– but also because you know what it’s like to have your image connected to something you don’t really promote. Nuka-Cola isn’t healthy, it’s got enough sugar to induce instant death when drank regularly. But you do it for the connections, the money– and you’re sure Cooper did too.

“Cooper is fine.” He grumbles, and you remember his last name is maybe a sore subject right now.

“Sorry.” You do your best to be delicate as you sit next to him, and Sebastian sits on the other side of you. “How’re you, Cooper?”

“Not bad. If you count being divorced as being alright.” He sighs, and you feel terrible that you even asked. “It’s like I never knew her, man– I thought Barb was different. Or they changed her, I don’t fucking know.”

“She had her eyes set on the prize. As did you, Coop.” Sebastian states, and Cooper turns, affronted.

“We’re all interested in money and glory, Seabass. Fuck you if you think otherwise.” Cooper tenses, and you feel a bit awkward listening in on this conversation.

“What did I say that negates that? I’m as money hungry as they come.” Sebastian shrugs. “I only meant that– despite it all, making money was what you had in common, evidently not the world-going-nuclear shit. Maybe you’ve got a heart of gold, a change of mind, I don’t know, Cooper. But throwing away an easy life just to pay alimony must be fucking awful, so I just don’t think you’re in it for the money anymore.”

“You’re fucking telling me.” Cooper sniggers. “I don’t think Barb cares. I’m here with no career, and she’s out there getting promoted in Vault-Tec. As for the heart of gold… any former marine would’ve been against that shit.”

You want to ask what shit, but you don’t want to overstep your boundaries. You get the general fear of nuclear war– but Cooper sounds more personally affected by it.

Cooper glances over at you. “What do you think? Better to be richer than you can spend in a lifetime, or to be out with a good conscience?”

“I don’t know if I’m that interested in money.” You say honestly, and Cooper raises his eyebrows.

“Really? Nuka-Cola’s a saint, huh.” He chuckles– he’s clearly a bit buzzed.

“No, I’m not. Of course I want to have a career.” You think about this carefully, so it doesn’t sound insincere. “Making money is nice– but I don’t think I have the right to say it should come at the cost of human lives. You know Nuka-Cola is terrible for you, right? ”

Cooper stares at you for a moment too long, and then looks away. “Yeah… addicting.”

He’s definitely not talking about Cola, but you continue on. “Yeah, so just in that way– I disagree with how much power marketing has. We’ve convinced America that they need this– just so some chairman can make an extra dollar.”

Cooper looks at you, renewed by whatever you just said. “Hell, woman after my own heart. That’s damn true.”

“Yes, yes, you two oblivious flirts– there’s no art in filmmaking anymore, just commercialism. Not like it hasn’t been the case for a century.” Sebastian chimes in, and you bite your lip, pretending not to notice how Cooper’s face is smirking bashfully. “But, babe. You’re going to want to make your money before the world fucking ends.”

“What’s that?” You startle, and Cooper laughs sardonically at your surprise, while Sebastian gets up.

“Let me get myself a drink– I hardly want to tell this story sober.” He leaves, and Cooper has half a heart to glare at him– he knows Sebastian is leaving the two of you alone so he can do the dirty work.

Not like his reputation can ever get better, especially by telling this story again with it’s lurid details, but at least it doesn't hurt that he's with you.

“What does he mean by that, Mr. Howard?” You wince at your use of that. “Sorry– I meant Cooper.”

“Ah, call me what you’d like.” Cooper takes another sip of his drink, leaning back in the couch to the point where he is practically lying down and against you. “It sounds good coming out of your mouth no matter what you pick, Nuka-Cola.”

Now that’s a suggestive, loaded line, and you feel a little more comfortable flirting with him even if it’s a bit of a rebound for him. The end of the world is approaching, right?

“The end of the world?” You prod at him, and he sighs, leaning against your shoulder.

“It’s fucking ridiculous, what it is… probably never going to happen anytime soon.” Cooper’s tone of voice is hazy as he examines his last sip of whisky in the glass. “No, no. Just something those fucking commies put in my head. I guess they’re not really commies, are they?”

“Unless you elaborate, I can’t say.” You utter back at him, and he pushes down a smile.

“Alright. Vault-Tec’s been selling this nuclear protective stuff, right?” He says, and you nod, your cheek brushing against the top of his hair. “All I can say is that a few… radicals, if you will, think that Vault-Tec might actually be more involved with it than they say. Like, they might be…”

“Not just protective, huh? More offensive? Everyone’s got that feeling, Mr. Howard. And that doesn't sound like a particularly commie-train-of-thought to me.” You hear the sorrow in his tone, even if he’s trying to make it sound like a rumour. “Did you hear this from your ex-wife?”

Cooper winces here. He still feels slightly guilty about spying on her. A part of him thinks they might’ve not divorced if he hadn’t found out– but he knows he was bound to find out eventually, and he would’ve just delayed the inevitable.

“Maybe, Cola. Maybe you’re just sharp.” He whispers, and you smile and he feels it– your skin is intoxicatingly close right now.

“So, odds are?” You ask, just curious, and he exhales.

“Bad. I have to agree with them.” He admits, and it feels exhilarating to admit this– that Vault-Tec is gonna nuke the world at some point, that the radicals are more like minded to him than he’s wanted to believe in the past. “Even if it didn’t cost my movies, I regret partaking in what they were selling.”

That’s a big thing for him to say– you know Cooper loves acting, he absolutely adores playing a hardened sheriff, the last vestige of goodness in the wild, wild west. All the times you’ve visited him on his set– probably during his last contractual movie, now that you think about it– and he was always so excited to show off the architecture and intricacies of the fictional western town they’d set up, share script details and little character quirks so you could have an insider’s viewpoint. He even donned his cowboy hat on you, saying you wore it like a natural.

He loved being the hero, really.

He lights a cigarette, and takes a puff.

“Most big-name connections refuse to talk to me because of this stuff– I’ve basically been dropped out of phonebooks all together. They think I’m still in on it, they think I’ve only stopped because of backlash–” He stops as you begin to scratch his scalp, still leaning against your shoulder, but getting progressively into your neck area.

Jesus, that feels good. He thinks. He hasn’t been intimate in a while– Barb became increasingly more cold to him over the last few months, as their marriage kept falling apart.

“Backlash, really?” You whisper.

“Yeah.” He stutters for just a moment, because your eyes are peering into his, and for a moment he thinks you could really make it as just a bombshell if you wanted to– then he takes another puff. “When really, I was just backing out of what I thought was really a massive crime against humanity.”

“Are you only telling me this to validate your poor conscience? Remedy that reputation a little?” You ask, and he presses his lips together.

“Well, I'll be honest, yeah. Of fucking course I'd tell the one woman who seems to be like me on this.” He sounds so certain of you, sounds so sure that you're on his side.

And you absolutely are.

“The world’s about to end, Mr. Howard. You're not a bad man for not wanting to support it. I'm inclined to agree.” You inhale deeply, and Cooper stares at you– something stirs inside him as he does.

“Kiss me, then. Humour me– since none of this will matter soon.” Cooper murmurs, lying on top of your chest now, the smoke from his cigarette enveloping your face.

He’s so close you barely have to move to oblige to what he’s said– you're second guessing yourself for just a moment, because it feels like a dream that he'd ask you to do this, so out of the blue, such a picture perfect fantasy that you almost don't care about the impending doom, and you press your lips gently to his in an upside-down kiss, his hair brushing against your open cleavage, but Cooper is insistent and leans upward, kissing you with such intensity that your head is spinning afterwards.

God, now that's a movie star kiss. You think.

He kisses you again as Sebastian returns, drink in hand.

“Oi! You two. Jesus Christ, can't keep your hands off each other, can you?” Sebastian pretends to vomit. “C’mon, if I want to talk to you at my party, I should have that right.”

You attempt to pull away– but Cooper, being a little mischevious, perhaps wanting to show off in a way he hasn’t been able to, sits up right and kisses you again, this time normally, just very slowly and passionately though, slithering an arm around your waist in a way that has Sebastian rolling his eyes.

“Okay, present.” He says, not pulling his arm off your waist.

“Thanks.” Sebastian shakes his head. “I was thinking we should take the mood off with some party games…”

It's about 2 AM when you've finally left the party. Cooper didn't want to let you go– he's crashing at an apartment for the time being, but you really don't want to waste yourself on being his rebound, if he really likes you.

You tell him as much, and he likes that– you really are rather sharp about things.

“Well. Gimme a call when you realize I'm not kidding around with you.” He says unabashedly, holding your hand, kissing it as you leave.

You’re absolutely sure he's drunk, and he's being a little too clingy– but you want to believe him anyways.

You walk back to your car, alone. Thinking about if Cooper is worth the damage it could have on your potential career. But then again– the end of the world is coming, right?

So maybe it won’t matter. And you find that you like this, the secret potential of this option, just hanging out with Cooper in a place that used to be America, no more expectations on you both. There’s also the chance you just both die, though.

You shudder.

You don't notice that there's a man in the backseat of your car when you get in, brandishing a chloroform stained cloth.

The Ghoul prods at the body that's just fallen out of the cryo pod.

Oh fuck.

It's starting to stir, whoever it is, and Coop knows he's ready, if this is really some synthetic android-clone thing, to make their life hell. Get some of his anger out on something that doesn’t matter.

Wait– he recognizes that cherry red fabric. That coiffed hair, frosty after being inside the pod. Oh, Jesus… even the makeup is the same as when he last saw you.

“Ah… shit.” He chuckles to himself in exasperation, because this is beyond belief. “Nuka-Cola, is that you?”

You tilt yourself to the side, eyes bleary, unable to see clearly. Everything’s dark. But you know that voice, you just heard it a couple of days ago.

“Mr. Howard?” You croak out, and he hisses inwards– nobody has called him that in centuries. Nobody knows who he is… except for you, of course.

“The one and the same, baby.” He licks the side of his gums, deciding to stick with his identity for now. “Well, maybe a little different. You wouldn't happen to know what a Ghoul is, huh?”

“What?” You don't know how long your vision is going to stay black for, but you don't like the sound of that. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Eyes haven't been opened for… two hundred years. I'll give you some time, Cola.” He sighs; cracks his neck, while you sink back into the floor. “Just imagine the ugliest horror-picture monster you can imagine. Zombie, no nose. That paint a picture for you?”

“...”

“What was that?” Coop can't hear you when your voice is muffled into the tiles of this secret room. He grasps your hair gently, from the root, pulling your head upwards so you'll speak– clearly you don't have the strength to lift up your body.

“I said, how is that any different from before?”

“Oh, she's still a jokester.” Coop scoffs– despite himself he snorts– and he lets go of your hair so you land back on the floor with a thump.

“–Ow!” You flinch, and then turn over so you’re on your back. “Still an asshole, huh?”

“Me?” He grins maliciously. Ooh, maybe he can use some misplaced anger on you. “You're the one who didn't call back for several weeks.”

“How could I? You can see I've been trapped in a cryo thing for… however long. Did you say two hundred years?” You flatly ask, and Coop still thinks you're lying.

“Yes, and bullshit. You probably had a couple weeks since I last saw you to call me.” He states, and he doesn’t actually hold a grudge, at least not that much of it in comparison to all the other horrid shit that’s happened to him– he just thinks it's funny to push your buttons after all of that, like looking into a mirror of the past– and you groan.

“No, I didn't. I got in my car after Sebastian's party, and some goon sprayed something in my face, I passed out, and he drove me here.” You start, and you begin frowning in such a way that Coop almost feels bad.

“Why you, sweetheart?” He shakes his head. “You weren't exactly high up in popularity yet.”

“Exactly. No one would miss me.” You spit out bitterly, remember the end to that night, where you were so unaware of your surroundings, and terrified of being assaulted as you were pushed around into this room, blindfolded.

“Adrian fucking Amos, the fucking Second, thought it would be great if I just became his permanent doll during the apocalypse.” You swallow, and Coop sits down next to you, to listen more clearly. You shift towards his body heat– and to his surprise, he still likes that. “See, his daddy has shares in Vault-Tec, so he decided before nuclear fallout happened, he wanted a guaranteed sex slave from his favourite advertisements.”

“Nuka-Cola.” Coop utters with the slowest drawl, concluding your statement– and you like that.

“Yeah, Nuka fucking Cola.” You grimace. “Then he undressed me, put me in this little number, and threw me in the pod. I barely remember this shit because I was so out of it.”

“Shame. I always wondered why you never called me back.” Coop circles back to his little grudge– but he also feels bad, feels some level of guilt that neither he nor Sebastian had the sense to look out for you back then, and you were practically assaulted (maybe actually so if you didn't remember).

“Yeah, because I wanted to miss out on that piece of ass. Sure.” You joke feebly, and Coop laughs despite himself.

“Honey, you're gonna run away screaming when you finally see me. Don't worry about it.” He shakes his head. “The real world's a lot more fucking difficult than would'ves and could'ves.”

“Okay, explain. If you're willing to owe me that much.” You start, and Coop gets reminded of that fateful night a couple hundred years ago, where he was the one to clue you into the impending nuclear war.

Not even three months later, it was all over, and you were nowhere in sight– if his mind ever did drift to you, the what-ifs and who-knows that still persisted– he would always assume you were dead.

Now he thinks you're just unfinished business.

“Fine.” He taps your shoulder, and you lean a little closer towards him– you touch his hand, and instead of flinching as many people have in the past– you trace the tough, callused skin there.

He thinks there’s something wrong with you. Why do you seem drawn to him anyways? You’re completely fucking up his tough guy, lone-wolf persona by being here, and he wants you gone. He pulls away his hand, ignoring how your face falls for a moment.

Coop inhales, and then starts. “In October 2077, they nuked America, bombed it all to hell. By they, I think we both know what I’m implying.”

“It wasn’t the Chinese.” You interrupt, and he shushes you.

“Yeah, Cola.” He starts playing with his fingers, feeling like you don’t deserve to be here right now. That you should’ve just stayed dead. “Vault-Tec destroyed it all.”

It’s no good. He’s an old man, and you’re still as soft and young as ever. He’s always haunted by his past, like with Barb and Janey, and then Sebastian’s voice in every single Mr. Handy robot he comes by, and then finally, his last couple memories with you.

“The last two hundred something years have been filled with carnage, death, unspeakable horrors that your pretty little mind could never comprehend.” He grits out, pushing past the past and remembering that this is who he is now– a killer– and you stare at him vacantly, because his tone is so much more serious suddenly. “Nothing is the same. Everyone has blood on their hands, water is a fucking commodity, if you’re not watching out for humans to betray you, hideous creatures like me roam the ground, and that ground? Sands, deserts, barely a hint of green. It’s nothing worth coming back to.”

“So you’re saying I’m in hell.” You suddenly inhale harshly, and Coop ignores the urge to check on you.

The last thing he needs is an extra person to take care of– especially someone who doesn’t know the Wasteland. So it’s better now that he just weans you off and leaves you here.

“Yeah, sweetheart. And I'm the devil.” Coop sucks on his teeth again. “If you had any sense, you’d go back into that fucking freezer until some utopia is born four hundred years from–”

You flinch, and he stops.

“Oh, God, my eyes–”

The sight comes back slowly then all at once. Light everywhere, overwhelming your senses.

You blink, tears rolling down your face.

“Maybe it would’ve been better if you stayed blind, Cola.” He stares at you as you rub your eyes, taking in the state of the room.

It’s a warning, but you look up at him again anyways. And Coop waits for the utter horror, for the sign that he really has transformed into a monster, so he can hurry up and leave– this entire conversation with you is just him finishing Cooper Howard’s past with a bow. A shiny, Nuka-Cola-red bow.

“...” You swallow, and then bite your lip, tilting your head up at him. “Couldn’t let go of the cowboy identity, huh?”

Coop furrows his non-existent eyebrows, disliking how hard you’re making this, how clever you still seem to be– you also seem way too relaxed with him. He has half a mind to fire a warning shot at you. “Yeah, okay, darlin’. You’re just avoiding facing that horrific, bile-inducing sensation in your throat, aren’t you?”

You shake your head, disagreeing immediately. “You might look– a little less like how I remember you, I guess… but you’re still you. I see it, and apparently so do you.”

How dare you? Coop thinks, how dare you intertwine his two images together so easily when he could never be the same man again, when just seeing an old VHS tape of one of his movies pains him?

“Yeah, no thanks. If this is your way to get me to valet you around, I’m not that man anymore, Nuka-Cola.” He resents the way you think he could still be good– just because his western image brings him a little comfort nowadays. “Not a sheriff anymore.”

Your face drops, but you seem to take that information readily. “Yeah, I figured that based on your outfit, the little blood splatters on your pants… if that’s how the world is, then so be it.”

You’re saying things that on paper should be right– but Coop is getting more and more disgruntled with you, and you feel like you need to separate yourself from him. Yes, tough, because to you it’s been all of forty-eight hours since you kissed him– but you can see, no matter how deep the original Cooper Howard is inside this new Ghoul, you’re not going to be able to bring him out.

You stand up, on shaky, bare feet, and motion for Coop to move out of the way. Independent woman to the end, you are, and you want to get your bearings without him.

Coop internally sighs. He doesn’t believe for one second you’ll survive out there– and he really doesn’t need to spend the time seeing you die, so he turns around, and leaves you here.

He never did find Leopold St. West, much to his chagrin– you really, really messed up his day.

It happens. Sometimes he’ll see Janey in another person’s eyes and freak out, and have to boil it down by murdering random raiders.

But now Coop is just spiteful. He’s always figured that a lot of what happened to the world was just a bunch of rich people picking and choosing a destiny for themselves to the detriment of everyone else, and now he’s aware that included you, too. To casually be grabbed away by some man, just because he was rich… Coop isn’t unsympathetic to how you ended up, even if he treated you quite poorly. It’s sickening.

Two hundred years of quiet, always-dwelling agony, the first few years out of fear for being alone, and the next few years spent conspiring about what could’ve happened to his family– and then here you are as confirmation of his worst theories.

No wonder he enjoys his casket time.

Coop sighs.

Vaultie is hard to keep track of. She got away with murder this time at the organ harvesting clinic– so Coop finds it easier to stop working with her, to move when he wants to.

The Govermint (really just Booker’s shitty gang) was rather easy to dismantle. The two sheriffs that he killed required no expertise on his part.

He’s thinking about the fact that since Moldaver is still alive, and apparently that fucker Hank MacLean, then that means there’s a good chance Barb and Janey are too– perhaps he could go and find them.

It’s an odd urge, though. Everytime he thinks about it, he wonders how he’s actually supposed to connect with them again– they’ve been fractured for so long, and he’s changed, and there’s a good chance neither of them would accept him like this.

But you did, didn’t you? You were on the verge of saying yes, you’d accept him– as if nothing had changed.

Coop grumbles. The big, significant difference is that you were infatuated with him, but Barb divorced him, and Janey was too young to make that choice. He considers that it could be a pipe dream, but he still has hope– for Janey, at least.

He thinks you’re probably dead anyways. He hasn’t seen you in several months, since that day where he unceremoniously woke you up– and he hopes it stays that way.

He's chilling in another small, scrappy area of the wasteland. Nobody bothers the Ghoul, not when he's casually fiddling with his gun and and chewing on a toothpick.

A man runs past him, holding a significantly valuable piece of Brotherhood equipment. Maybe worth thousands of caps if he knows his shit, and he does. That’s a fusion core, and they’re not exactly mass producing those anymore during the apocalypse.

Coop points his gun at him, finger on the trigger, seconds away from creating a bloody mess–

A blade thwacks into the guy’s neck, blood spurting as he falls and chokes. A person– a woman– jumps on his back, her face obscured by a deep green bandana . She yanks out the knife, stabs a few more times for good measure– and Coop knows the game, he’s not surprised he’s not the only one to go after this guy.

He’s pretty good at killing casually, and he barely even moves from where he’s standing, aiming the gun at her.

No way is he letting easy money pass by him.

He’s about to pull the trigger extra-quick when she yanks the bandana down, taking a deep breath as she sweats, and Coop actually misses.

It’s you. You stare up at him from where you’re squatting over the body, and your gaze hardens, furrowed brows, dark lashes, intensely dark pupils. You purse your lips, press them together, jaw set in a stern fashion, recognizing him but refusing to hear him out– and Coop doesn’t know why he’s not firing, but he’s almost… enamoured with how you are now, almost taken aback by your new nature.

Not so taken aback that he doesn’t immediately start firing when you take the fusion core and start running.

And Coop doesn’t want to actually kill you, he just wants to incite some damage. See how far you can take it.

You interweave through random gaps in the metal scraps of this little abode, seeking shelter as you do so, and Coop’s gunfire only ricochets off them with cartoony sounding “pings!”

He manages to graze your left thigh through a small window, and you inhale sharply, stopping as you grit through the pain.

Coop grins to himself. This little cat and mouse chase is what he expected, what was predictable from you– you’re smart enough to stay on the defense, but you would probably never attack him, avoiding him because of your sad feelings of the old times, never resort to carnage unless you needed to–

You shove past the walls where you’ve been roaming, and manage one kick against his stomach and he manages to grab you and restrain you, your back against his front.

You grab his own jacket for purchase, and instead of pulling forward– you push back, landing on top of him with a thud that surely hurts him. Coop clenches his teeth, back against the ground now, but you scramble, straddling him. Hands around his throat, knife pressed against one of his tendons. Not outright strangling him, but just enough pressure that he knows you’re seriously threatening him.

Holy fuck, have you changed. Just like Vaultie, maybe you’re showing your honest self– and Coop supposes it may have been his mistake to underestimate you.

“Got a whole new outfit… I like it.” He admires your new leather jacket, cargo pants around your thighs pushing his arms down, a blouse fashioned out of your old Nuka-Cola dress. Tough combat boots dig into his thighs as you push against him. “Don’t fucking start–” You squeeze a little harder and he groans, the tip of the knife pushing in. “With your on and off, hot and cold bullshit.”

Ooh, it sounds like you have a little bit of a grudge over how you were treated.

“Get over it, Cola. It was centuries ago, whatever we had.” He spits out, and you have a glint of sadness in your eyes.

He knew you were a little too gushy for your own good– not even he adapted that quickly to the wilderness of the Wasteland. He waits for you to make the mistake, apologize, break down– and then he can take the core and get out of here.

But you’re still firm in your grasp of him, your weight pushing him down, blade against him.

You’re not angry about back then. You’ve come to terms with that.

You’re angry at the state of the world.

“You know what I fucking hate, Ghoul?” You spit in his face, and he blinks, spittle now on his chin. “You are all so selfish. I got left behind, likely for dead, right, and nobody gives a shit, whatever. But instead of me hoping that the leftover crumbs of society would at least try to be, I don’t fucking know, more hopeful and kind, or at the very least, not be so fucking greedy and transparently trying to be the new party in charge.”

“You’re living in a dream world.” Coop interrupts, and he’s rewarded with you carving a small, little cut on his cheek, a rapid movement you hardly think about, and it causes him to inhale sharply, a drop of blood smearing across his face.

“Oh, no. I’m not asking for everyone to hold hands and play family.” You laugh suddenly, and then somehow lean in closer, and Coop finds that in some fucked up way he enjoys the pressure against him. “It’s bullshit, that kind of image making– you and I both know that. But for all this supposed talk against the rich billionaires who ruined our lives, how are we not just emulating them?”

Coop is actually drawn to silence.

“Maybe you actually got fooled by self-image, Cola.” He murmurs. “Or maybe that’s just people’s true nature.”

You don’t like that answer. You don’t actually want to believe that, but the more you think about it, the more it’s probably true. People lie all the time, but the amount of outrage you’ve heard from people the last few months, bemoaning Vault-Tec and all those rich fuckers, you were inclined to believe they wouldn’t act the exact same way.

Just at a different level. Power corrupts all, you guess.

You loosen your grasp a little. “Thank you.”

It’s honest, and Coop doesn’t like how much he does like your nature of trusting him– how even as this new, terrible version of yourself, you still trust him, and you still ask for his advice.

He doesn’t know what to make of this, but he thinks maybe he can get some use out of you yet.

Coop wrangles his arm from out under your thigh, where you’ve accidentally let a gap through, and shoves you over.

You fall with a gasp, hitting the ground, and he stands up and kicks you for good measure, while you screech in pain.

Coop picks you up by your throat, and you instantly move to fighting– your blade against his stomach, teeth gritted in resolute urge to kill– but he’s got his pistol at your neck, and the way he brushes it against you is almost like a lover’s embrace.

“One thing I hate is a fucking liar, Cola.” He grumbles, and you glare at him. “You’re not some innocent– why else do you got a fusion core in your pocket?”

“I never claimed I was a good woman.” You shake your head. “I just wonder why the Brotherhood, the Enclave, hell, even some of the Raiders… everyone wants the ultimate piece of the pie.”

“Besides, you’re the one who kept saying to survive out here I’d have to be a killer.” You remind him, and he looks down at you, thinking. “The world’s grieving– I don’t blame it for that, I feel the same way.”

You’ve still got a way with words, he thinks, and he was right. He can use you for his benefit.

“Say, Nuka-Cola. Why don’t we take some of those fuckers down?” He stills. “Not randoms. The power-hungry pie-eaters, like how you so eloquently put it.”

You don’t fully trust him again, but you’re into the prospect. You don’t want power, and you know he doesn’t either, but it’s not just looting. No, no, this is something akin to revenge.

“Alright.” You whisper.

“Alright. Okay, I won’t shoot if you don’t cut me.” He speaks softly, slowly, trying to cajole you out of attacking– and you move as he does.

The threatening air of before is gone now, and the Ghoul has only a odd stare for you, something that makes you feel watched, almost reminding you of two centuries ago. It could be that he doesn’t trust you either– and so you walk onward with a gap between you two, heading to wherever a faction that needs fucking up could be.

Coop strolls inside the makeshift bar as you make conversation, staying within the shadows. It’s not on official Enclave grounds, it’s simply a nearby bar where members have been known to hang out.

He doesn’t exactly mind being the one to pick up the slack of killing people– he can tell you’re good at charming people what with your former bombshell acting techniques, your silly, soft blinks, the way how your skin still looks smooth and untouched.

Was it all a lie with him? Aw, shit, why does he care? He really doesn’t have time to wonder if he’s been manipulated by you– he won’t be manipulated by you now, when he gets rid of many the people who represents obstacles in his way to finding still-existing Vault-Tec members.

Yes, that’s all this is to him. Another step to finding Moldaver, Henry MacLean, then his family if he’s lucky. And you’ll get some rage out of it, so he doesn’t even consider this to be that bad of an evasion of his.

You laugh at something the guy next to you says. Coop catches a bit of it, of him asking how you look under that big jacket– and you mentioning you’d like to see him without that government get-up, too.

He grits his teeth. He’s not fucking in love with you, or anything stupidly juvenile like that– but he definitely felt something before when the two of you were fighting, or when you had conversations during the long, arduous talk here– you bit into a piece of his jerky when he offered it, and he laughed in surprise that you didn’t spit it out after he revealed it was feral ghoul ass jerky.

He also found that his gaze kept being drawn to you, too. You kept up with him, you were capable of hunting and searching on your own, you took lives when the need arose, and you had his back, even if he didn’t ask for it.

You made him subconsciously draw from the past, reminiscing about a time with you and a future he never thought he’d revisit. And now he can’t ignore that, so he needs to let off some steam.

There’s a splatter of blood across your face as the guy in front of you splutters, a bullet hole shot through his forehead. Little pieces of flesh hit the bar counter as he falls, and you gasp.

Coop is kind of quick with it now– he fires off, and because these “politicians” are unprepared, he’s able to kill off more than half.

You get over your shock quickly and fire your own tiny pistol at random, managing a few kills, but the Ghoul takes the last one and looks back at you, with an intrepid glance that you can’t figure out.

“What the hell was that?” You call out, and he doesn’t respond, instead beginning to pilfer the bodies, looking for shit to take. “Hey, Ghoul…”

“We came here to kill off those guys.” He answers you, but it’s not really an answer.

“Yeah, but I thought we agreed on discussing this shit as we were doing it. What happened to signalling?” You approach him, and as you get close enough, he turns around and stares unnervingly into your eyes.

“I did signal, sweetheart.” He clicks his tongue, lying through his teeth.

“Bullshit.”

“No, I did.” He points at you. “It’s not my fault that you were too busy schmoozing and flirting to notice.”

“Wow.” You laugh exasperatedly at his antics, while he tilts his head. “You’re really obtuse, you know?”

“Nah. I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You’re gonna say you’re not jealous–” At that word, the Ghoul snarls, ready to tell you exactly how little he cares for you, and you motion for him to zip it. “But at the very instance of seeing me flirt, mind you, in the most fake way possible, you lost it. You can’t even tell the difference between my genuine flirting and the fakest, schlockiest shit?”

“...” Coop frowns, because you’re right– he did kind of let his mind go wild over nothing in particular.

Even worse, it means he’s made it apparent to you that he still harbours some feelings for your long-ago relationship. And that’s definitely a potential weakness– he does not want you to believe you can just work him around.

“Fuck you.” He spits, and instead of your face flinching in hurt, you stay neutral.

“I know you think you can come close and then shove me off every once in a while, because you’re fucking terrified of what it means that you’re not as hard as you pretended to be, that you still have a bit of human emotion inside you.” You tiptoe up to his face so he can’t avoid you. “I don’t care. That’s your problem.”

You turn to leave, to continue looting the bodies– and Coop’s hand wraps around your wrist.

He hates what you’ve said, because it’s absolutely provoking the worst issue he has– he can never just let go. Two hundred years of this has made him a different creature altogether, spiteful; evil, but Coop knows as well as anyone that his transformation doesn’t negate his original nature, buried deep down.

It was a lie on his part– people are not as evil as he made them out to be, it’s the cycle of this situation that perpetuates that shit. Violence begets violence and all that. He can’t seem to say this to you, though, because he can tell you already probably knew that.

What is this fuckery, that you’re able to generate such a sense of guilt in him?

“Show it to me again. Genuine flirting.” he says instead, and he knows it’s stupid as hell to say something like this. “It’s been hundreds of years, you can’t expect me to fuckin’ remem…”

You grasp his arm back, making him quiet.

He’s half expecting you to punch him, but you see something you like– something that finally satisfies you, and you kiss his cheek, where you cut him much earlier in the day. It’s a soft bruise, mostly healed over in the way ghouls heal– but it’s overwhelmingly, embarrassingly hot there now as you pull away.

“I won’t forget the difference next time, Nuka-Cola.” He tips his hat at you in a mockery of his acting as a dashing cowboy once upon a time.

“Won’t be a next time.” You shrug. “I would hate to have to flirt with someone again just to get you to notice me.”

This severely bothers him, like you haven’t been an annoyance in his mind this whole time. And then he wonders if you’re an idiot, like you have no idea the effect you had on him back then, and even now. Hell, even that overly-chaste kiss has him remembering how he felt at Sebastian’s party when you humoured him the first time.

Do you think the only thing he’s burying is some empathy for the human race?

He can’t just let you be this wrong about this, no fucking way. And it’s with this in mind that the Ghoul feels his reserve melt as he tightly grabs your face and kisses you. Not a soft, movie-star kiss of the past, but one more hungry, his lips swallowing yours, pressed sternly, firmly, like he’s not gonna let you go. He parts his mouth ever so slightly, trying to catch a reaction from you.

You’re caught off guard, and he’s glad. He likes that you don’t know what to do with yourself, that for once you’re floundering rather than him, and you barely remember to kiss back until a couple seconds later when your hands grasp the base of his skull. You’re tracing grooves, calluses, skin that’s been eroded by his ghoulishness. You feel like he tastes ever so acidic– perhaps from the radiation emitting from his body– but some weird part of you loves it, and you part your lips as you kiss him harder, wanting to feel his tongue.

Your lips are just as soft as he remembers– but there’s more excitement now, more of an urgency as you kiss him, so he takes your invitation and swirls his tongue around on yours, disgustingly vulgar and perversely fast, yet lingering to enjoy the sensation, and he kinda loves being a corrupting force, being the ghoul who eats up this sweet human girl, and he tightens his grip– it almost hurts you, how tightly his hands weave around your waist suddenly– and then before you know it, he pulls away.

He wipes his mouth, never taking his eyes off of you.

“So. Did I taste like Nuka-Cola?” You joke, and he laughs in your face.

“Nope. Darlin, you haven’t been the Nuka-Cola girl for hundreds of years. They replaced you not long after you vanished.” He smiles widely at how your face drops. “I can show you some of the new girl’s billboards, if you’d like.”

“That would explain the lack of revenue.” You raise your eyebrows. “Then why do you still call me Nuka-Cola, Cola, etcetera?”

“That’s how I remember you.” It sounds too sweet, too nice that he keeps your nickname on tabs, so he twists his lips in a sneer. “Plus I don’t remember your name.”

“Oh.” You bite your lip, finding his insult more funny than anything else, and turn around to take items from the bodies around you. “Okay, Mr. Howard.”

It was the optimal moment for you to joke back, calling him the Ghoul, but in classic you-fashion, you decided to extend an olive branch to him– reminding him that he’ll never just be the Ghoul to you. And even if Coop knows he’ll always remember you by Nuka-Cola, he has a fondness for you that he doesn’t neglect anymore– and he murmurs your name so softly, but just enough that you turn back and look at him, and smile with pleased recognition.

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danveration · 28 days

Text

Parings: The Ghoul/Cooper Howard x reader

Summary: You fall asleep on the ghoul’s shoulder.

A/N: VERY SHORT!! theres not much plot haha. i just had this cute idea so why not write it out. i honestly feel like i’ve made a “fall asleep next to the character” fic to every character i wrote so far😭

“Darlin’, I sure as hell ain’t gonna sit around here all day just cause you didn’t get enough sleep last night. Nobody gets good sleep up here. It’s-“

He stops mid sentence when he feels the weight of your head drop on his shoulder.

You and him had a confusing relationship dynamic. You ran into each other looking for something similar. A bounty. After a bit of talking, you asked if you could tag along with him. He made it clear that he doesn’t do “duos” or anything of the sort. But if you found something along the way, he thought it would be better if you shared it with him other than not. You looked young. Young people tend to have more of an eye for things, he thought. Even though he was sure he’d find the bounty no problem, why not enjoy a bit of company? He ended up agreeing.

You two have stopped for a minute because you complained that you were getting tired. You haven’t slept in a while, due to being a bit paranoid about all the creatures that could sneak up and kill you. Plus you were alone. Being alone out here and having your guard down was most likely to get you killed.

Having someone with you, especially him, made the tension ease off you a bit, and you could feel the tiredness effect you more.

You sat down, your back laying against a wall. He sighed and reluctantly sat down next to you.

“Darlin’, I sure as hell ain’t gonna sit around here all day just cause you didn’t get enough sleep last night. Nobody gets good sleep up here. It’s-“

He stops mid sentence when he feels the weight of your head drop on his shoulder.

He looks over and down at you in disbelief. Did you really just.. fall asleep on his shoulder? Do you know who he is? He’s feared by mostly everyone on the surface.

He realizes that this means he’ll be taking a longer break than he wanted. If he moved, you might wake up. And he thinks that it’s better to have a fully rested person travelling with him than a sleep deprived one.

He sighs and leans back.

“Better get some rest too, then.” He mumbles as he shifts his hat so it’s now over his eyes.

He feels you adjusting slightly, face pressed in his jacket.

He must admit, it’s nice to feel this sort of touch after 200 years of nothing but violence and death.

#my works #:ghoul #fallout #fallout x reader #ghoul #ghoul fallout #ghoul x reader #ghoul fallout x reader #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #the ghoul x reader #ghoul/cooper x reader #fallout ghoul x reader #ghoul x you #cooper howard x you #fallout fic #also why does he look so pookie in this gif omg

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ladybirdswritings · 18 days

Text

Pretty Thing - Cooper Howard (Ghoul) x Reader

Summary: You’re a shiny, pretty prize worth more caps than can be counted on ten hands altogether. There’s something special about you, and the Ghoul is determined to figure out just what it is.

Notes: I’ve been wanting to write for this cowboy for days now and I’ve finally come around to it. Cowboys are my specialty lately <3. Lmk if u love this and I’ll write more (feel free to leave me lots of comments and interactions, I love those!!)

A03 | masterlist | next chap

pretty thing…

“Well lookie here, seems you vaulties ain’t as perfect as you promise to be, huh?”

A furrow of chocolate brows, offense and confusion from sweet Lucy MacLean. This vault promised development in weaponry that the new world had never seen before. It was a thing of storybooks, the kind of thing her dad told her right before her head hit the pillow.

Now, here she was; and it wasn’t a caged weapon she was staring at… no, but rather a caged person.

“This violates all of our policies…” she muttered softly, worry stitched in her soft features as she looked on at the mangled cowboy beside her.

“Tsk tsk, sweetheart. You oughta be more careful with trustin’ these shit-eating freaks. Ain’t you learned your lesson first time round?”

Lucy sighed, falling to her knees and grazing a warm hand against the metal. She looked on at you with pity. Weak, hazy you.

How did you end up in this predicament? You didn’t know. You didn’t remember.

It was as if the entirety of everything you’d ever known was only stitched within your brain in jagged, disorderly flashes. This had to be one too. A flash.

A vault dweller and a ghoul, side by side.

It was most certainly a flash.

“What do we do, coop?” The brunette wondered, doe eyes gazing up at the mangled creature. He only smirked.

“We split. You find your precious tin-man you can’t stop yappin’ bout… and I’ll snatch up this dyin’ cargo. Comprende?”

Lucy had come to trust him, and maybe it was a stupid thing to do. Reality was, though, he’d kept her alive this far. Maybe she owed it to him to follow orders. With a huff, she parted— and then?

It was just you and the ghoul.

Heavy footsteps circled your metal cage, like shark to labored minnow. You were far too exhausted to pick up those pretty eyes of yours from the ground they gazed at.

Chains wrapped round your wrists and ankles, cold metal burned against your spine and cheek. There were two ghouls in your peripheral vision, and each one was the same amount of horrifying.

The footsteps halted, and suddenly the mangled, noseless blur was clear as day before you. Kneeled to your level, observant— cold.

“Well well— look at you, huh? Pretty thing. Now I understand takin’ precautions but damn, sweetie. That’s a lotta chains, hm? What’s so scary bout’ you?” He whispered the last part, thread laced finger lifting to slowly push a loose locket of hair from your dampened face through the cage.

You blinked, forcing your gaze upward so to try and meet his eyes. It was exhausting.

He observed you like you were a foreign object, a diamond in the radiated rough.

“I’d wager to say that you’re just the weapon we was lookin’ for, ain’t you?”

God, he didn’t know just how right he was.

If there was one certain thing you could remember clear as day, laced through the flashes, it was your powers. Each and every one of them, laying dormant now.

You were far too poked and prodded, too drained to even think of lifting a finger.

“Been doin’ this for centuries, pretty thing. Centuries and I ain’t ever seen this kinda experimentation on a little fawn. Hm. Guess you was just unlucky.” His breath was warm as it hit your face. Musing and eyeing your exhausted, slumped figure. Observant, taking his time. Your keepers would be coming soon— he didn’t seem worried.

“Tell you what. You look like you gon’ make me lots of money. So you’re comin’ with me. Don’t you worry, I prefer ropes stead’ of chains, sweetie. You’ll be nice n’ comfortable.”

The more he spoke, the farther away he sounded. You were aware he was a ghoul, that much was certain. Yet even so, no part of his voice, no part of his fading threats were even a little bit startling. No.

His voice was a soft yet strong southern drawl and god— it was far more comforting than the chains and cement floor you’d always known. Perhaps that’s why you let the exhaustion overtake you. Perhaps that’s why you closed your eyes.

Did it matter why? No. All that mattered was that you did.

The rest was a blur. The last thing you remember? Frayed ropes being wrapped round you tight as you were freed from your chains. Mangled, coat covered arms lifting you from the cement and golden teeth pressed against your aching ear to whisper:

“C’mon now, pretty thing…”

Then?

Slumber…

¿to be continued?

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acapelladitty · 28 days

Text

sweeter than honey

Pairing: Cooper Howard/Fem!Reader

Summary: "You'd let me," Cooper pauses to allow the truth of the question to hold in the air, "rip my teeth into you and take a bite of you for myself? No knife. No healing. Just teeth." Groaning at the very thought as you consider the other wicked things those teeth are capable of, your thighs widen in open invitation. "Yes."

(warnings for: oral sex, cannibalism, biting, blood, sub space painkink, cum marking, masochism, teasing)

Fic Masterlist

Link to AO3

Slick with sweat, your breath comes in shallow pants as every inhale breathes fresh life into your burning lungs while you drift in the pleasurable haze of your post-orgasm comedown. The sloppy mess which steadily drips free of your cunt to the leather duster below is quick to stain the fabric as Cooper's electric eyes gaze up at you from the flat position between your thighs where he'd long since dropped his body.

"Nothing like it, darlin'. Sweet as honey and enough to make a man want more."

His mouth and chin glistening with your release and his own spit, for someone whose own mess streaked the dusted ground where his groin has rubbed itself into a frenzy, Cooper didn't seem quite finished with you as he licks a lazy stripe across your slit - the simple move making your legs jerk as his tongue grazes your engorged and overly sensitive clit.

Brain fuzzy, you can only squeak out a casual acknowledgement as you lazily egg him on with a dopey grin.

"Take more if you want."

Cooper scoffed.

"Last time, your foot kicked seven shades of hell outta my jaw cause it was too much for you, sweetie. I ain't falling for that shit again."

"Not like that." You smirk, recalling the fantastic yowl which fled him as your overstimulated body acted of its own accord and cold-clocked his wicked mouth. "I mean take what you want."

"You know what I want." Low voice rumbling from his throat like an approaching storm, Cooper presses his lips to your thigh in a chapped kiss before continuing. "But some things just ain't likely, are they?"

"I'd let you do it."

"You would, huh?"

"I mean, if you wanted-"

"You'd let me," Cooper pauses to allow the truth of the question to hold in the air, "rip my teeth into you and take a bite of you for myself? No knife. No healing. Just teeth."

Groaning at the very thought as you consider the other wicked things those teeth are capable of, your thighs widen in open invitation.

"Yes."

Something savage, almost animalistic twists at his features as he takes the encouragement for what it is, his face rubbing against your thigh as he nestles himself against the flesh. His lips ghost across the skin of your inner thigh with reverence; licking the skin there with a textured tongue as he steals a taste of what's soon to be his.

"You sure, darlin?" It's an ask, more like a plea, as he tries to hold back the excitement in his tone - his blazing eyes flashing up at you for one final acknowledgement, a final chance to back out and forget the offer.

"Do it, Coop. Take what no one else ever will."

Teeth blunt and not designed for a clean tear, it hurts like fuck when he sinks them deep into the flesh of your thigh; the heat of the pain burning like hellfire and forcing your spine to go ramrod straight as you beat your fists against the floor and writhe in place against it.

"Fuck! Fuck- ow! Fucking hell, Coop!" You whine out, the words only able to break free of your gritted teeth as the white-hot pain levels out into a terrible ache which makes your limbs tremble and tears slip free of your eyes.

Despite it all, there's a heat in the actions - a thrill of pain and pleasure rolling across your spine as you glance down through watery eyes to see him swallowing down the small part of you he had ripped free.

Part of him now.

It was enough to make you light-headed. Well, that and the blood loss, as the fresh wound bleeds freely and droplets trickle across the skin of your legs as they follow the curve of your thighs to drip to the duster.

His mouth licking at the wound, almost like a cat as he catches the blood he can - his hands slips up to cup at your cunt and his fingers are quick to spread your lips as he sinks past the mess he left to circle his calloused digits around your clit.

Mewling out something incomprehensible, nausea and arousal making the pressure in your skull difficult to ignore, you can't muster up the energy to push him away as each gentle touch feels like fresh lightning scoring across your overheated flesh.

"Every part as good as the last, sweetheart." Cooper speaks eventually, flashing bloodied teeth at you as he covers the wound on your thigh with his free palm, the pressure making you squeal in discomfort. "A man won't be able to forget an experience like that."

"Remember it well, handsome, cause that hurt like fuck and I ain't doing it again."

The threat of an approaching orgasm quickly making your heels curl against the ground, you gasp out your response before his actions have you reduced to a babbling, sobbing mess - so lost in that hazy space where pain melts with pleasure that you doubt you'd even notice him sneaking his way in for a second bite.

Slipping higher until the sensation of his breath on your cunt makes your brain short-circuit, Cooper is as enthusiastic as ever as he growls playfully at your words.

"Noted, sweetheart."

#no metaphors here. just a straight up fucking CHOMP #fallout #fallout tv #cooper howard #the ghoul #ghoul #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #cooper howard fic #cooper howard smut #ghoul smut #walton goggins #fallout amazon #fallout fic #ghoul x reader #ghoul x you

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yawnderu · 26 days

Text

>Commission for the lovely @slava-the-stalker! Thank you so much for supporting me with comms for my surgery. TTwTT 💗💗

John stared deep into the mirror, his visage scrunched up in a mix of discomfort and insecurity upon seeing his own reflection. What used to be a normal human face is nothing like the... thing staring back at him, his own hands coming up to caress the rough, scarred skin. While he's glad the bastard who failed all those ghouls is no longer recognizable, part of him feels a growing pit of anxiety boiling up in his stomach, threatening to explode at any moment now, the sound of your gentle humming coming from the bedroom calming him down even if only for a second.

With one last look of disdain at his own face, he makes his way out of the bathroom, his chest lightly puffed out in fake confidence, not wanting you to sense the inner turmoil in his head. The pure devotion in your eyes makes him hesitate, yet he pushes himself to be closer, lying down next to your body, one of his cold hands running up and down the crevice of your waist.

“Took you long enough.” The pure mirth in your eyes makes the corners of his lips tilt up into a smile despite himself, fighting the urge to recoil back the moment your hand meets his cheek, the warmth spreading all over his cold skin, bringing a sense of comfort amidst the chaos in his head.

“Looking this good ain't easy.” That fake confidence will be his demise one day, he knows it, yet the sweet laugh leaving your lips is enough to push the thought to the back of his mind, his eyes closing at the sensation of your thumb caressing his skin with nothing short of worship. He can feel you inching closer, not doing a damn thing to stop you as your lips crash against his, moving at an almost agonizingly slow pace, your breath hot against his face.

His hand drifts lower and lower as your kiss becomes more heated, cold fingers curling around your supple ass, squeezing it harshly as he pulls you closer to him, all the blood rushing down to his cock the moment your tongue enters his parted lips, wrapping around him without any trace of disgust. Your free hand comes down to his groin, teasingly tracing the outline of his hardening cock with your index before fully cupping it, feeling the vibrations of a groan leaving his lips against your own.

You can feel him harden beneath your palm, your fingers curling around the outline of his cock as your warm tongue meets his, battling for a dominance that he instantly surrenders, the feeling of his hands groping your ass harder dragging a moan out of your lips, only breaking away from the kiss to lean your forehead against his.

“I have been having slightly more impure thoughts than usual.” He confesses, his voice barely a whisper as a hint of hesitation dances in his dark eyes.

“Maybe it's time we... act on those.” His nervous chuckle doesn't go ignored, only making the tenderness in your eyes grow at the slight display of nervousness written all over his face. You've heard his thoughts about your relationship— about how he thinks you don't want to wake up to his mug every morning, and how he would never wish that on anyone he cared for; yet for you, John Hancock is a work of art. Every single intricate pattern on his skin, the way he carries himself, the strong sense of responsibility and morality towards his cause, and the sheer kindness seeping through his entire soul, clear in his very own actions.

The only response he gets is a soft peck on the lips, your gentle eyes meeting his, serving as a soothing balm for the insecurities that run deep within. He allows his body to relax despite the way his muscles are threatening to tense at the sensation of your fingers unbuttoning his pants, his hand instinctively reaching out to hold yours the moment your fingers touch his zipper.

“You don't... have to.” He reassures, not wanting you to feel forced to look at his disfigured, ghoul body.

“I want to.” Your tone is even and firm, your intentions clear as day, yet he only moves his hand away after seeing the way your pupils dilate when looking up at him. John has been alone for what feels like an eternity, the idea of being intimate with someone he loves being such a foreign and mildly scary concept even for the bravest of men.

He forces his body to relax, laying down on his back as you undo his zipper, a sharp hiss leaving his thin lips the moment your warm hands pull his hard cock out, blown pupils fully admiring every single detail; the thick, darker veins running over his length, to the dark pink bulbous tip, glistening with precum that seems to leak like a broken faucet. A deep groan leaves his lips as your fingers curl around his thick length, moving up and down at such an agonizingly slow pace that he's close to throwing his pride away and begging.

His lips part, half-lidded eyes staring up at the ceiling as his jaw clenches, feeling the mattress sink with the weight of your knees, parting his legs just enough for your body to fit between them. Your tongue darts out, licking a tantalizing stripe over his sensitive tip, running over his thin slit, the taste of salty precum overwhelming your senses, mixing in with your slimy saliva. His hand goes to the back of your head, cold fingers caressing your scalp rather than pushing you closer, his grip tightening momentarily the moment your warm tongue runs up and down the thickest vein on his shaft.

“Please, love...” He's not even sure why he's pleading, yet surrendering all control to the person he loves the most brings out an exhilarating feeling he never knew was possible without drugs. You obey, slowly pushing his throbbing cock deeper into your mouth, relaxing your throat just to take him deeper without triggering your gag reflex. The tears dotting your eyelashes only make you look even more charming to him, lightly bucking his hips so you can finish taking all of him, your nose against his trimmed pubic hair, the feeling of his soft, heavy balls against your chin only makes it more enticing, sucking in your cheeks as you start to bob your head up and down, taking in the feeling of his cock sliding down your throat.

His grip tightens on your hair, inhibitions thrown out the window as he stars to guide your movements, his eyes darkening at the way every single inch of his cock disappears into your needy, willing throat, squelching sounds mixing in with his deep groans, his head thrown back, the way his Adam's apple bobs up and down fully on display for your curious eyes. Your hands squeeze his thighs once you're unable to get air anymore and he immediately helps you pull away, gently wiping the trail of saliva going down the corners of your lips, using the chance to cup your cheek and stare down at you with nothing but pure, undying love.

“I'd like to try something new tonight.” His face tilts to the side slightly, curiosity clear in his expression, resting his heavy body on his elbows as his dark eyes focus on the way you seductively strip of your clothes, layer after layer coming off to reveal the soft, untainted flesh, so unlike his own— so pure and clean.

His gaze follows your movements, instinctively fitting his body on top of yours the moment you lay down on your back, one hand supporting his weight, and the other one drifting down your plush thigh, roaming up and down as if it's the first time he feels something so tender, forever enamored with the way your body feels against his no matter how many times you make love.

His fingers drift down to your sopping cunt, swiftly running over your erect clit for a second before he's back to gathering your slick on his fingers, teasing your entrance before going up, rubbing circles over your clit, the way your back arches and your tits jiggle slightly simply makes his cock throb, lowering his hand to grip it, rubbing himself up and down a few times before guiding his thick tip to your entrance, starting to push in. Your hand on his bicep forces him to halt his movements, shooting you a curious, worried look.

“Not... not that hole.” It only takes a second for your words to register, amusement clear in his face, yet a speck of doubt manages to always crawl its way into his brain. Do you truly want a bastard like him to defile you? Your legs parting to give him more space, not a single hint of hesitation in the way you move, presenting yourself to him.

Perhaps it's about time John allows himself to be selfish— to take what's being offered to him. His grip tightens on his cock, rubbing the tip up and down your sopping pussy, gathering as much slick as he can around the tip, knowing you're going to be a tight fit.

“Say the word if y'want me to stop.” Your little nod is all he needs, relaxing your lower body as he applies pressure against your tight, puckered hole, feeling it give in and wrap tightly around the tip of his cock, a small groan leaving his lips at the sensation. He sinks into you slowly and carefully, a loud sigh escaping him the moment he managed to bottom out, yet his eyes never once leave your face, his hand coming up to cup your cheek and caress the tender skin with his thumb, giving you as much time as you need to get used to the foreign sensation.

“You can move now.” The sweetness of your words makes his lips curl up into a sincere smile, his hips rocking into you slowly, feeling your tight hole grip him like a vice, the warmth surrounding him is almost enough to make him cum, yet he focuses solely on your pleasure, his thin lips coming down to kiss your neck, licking a tantalizing stripe over the sensitive skin just to feel your body shudder at the sensation, your hands coming up to caress his back, pulling his body so close that your heat is spreading all over, touching his very own soul.

“I love this...” His tongue applies more pressure to your neck as you drag out your words, taking full advantage of the sensitive nerves just to feel your throat vibrating against hips lips with each sweet moan that comes out of your lips, daring to fuck into you deeper and harder now that you're used to his size.

“I love you.” His hips falter for a second, unable to hide the surprise dancing in his slightly widened eyes at your confession, yet the look of love and trust written all over your face drags away any disbelief he felt, his soul freed even if only for a moment as your face finds shelter on the crook of his neck the moment his thrusts speed up, fucking into your tight ass at an almost unlawful pace, wanting you to feel every single inch of his hard cock, of his love.

A loud groan escapes his lips the moment he feels your teeth bite into his shoulder, likely trying to muffle your crescendo moans, the stinging sensation making his cock throb, slamming himself as deep as he can into your puckered hole, his body weight keeping you pressed down as ropes of thick, hot cum shoot deep into you, painting your tight walls white. His heavy body rests on top of yours, too exhausted to move out of the way yet, the sensation of being lightly crushed oddly pleasant.

“I love you too. More than anything, more than anyone...” He whispers into your ear, slowly pulling out of you, his dark eyes taking a few seconds to admire his work of art— your gaping hole leaking with his hot, white cum, a thin layer of sweat covering your exhausted, fucked-out body. He lays down next to you, his arms wrapping around your waist just to bring you closer, planting a gentle kiss on top of your forehead.

His eyes drift down to the red teeth marks on his shoulder, letting out a small chuckle at the idea of having a future bruise as a reminder of your night together.

#john hancock #john hancock x reader #hancock x reader #john hancock x fem!reader #female!reader #fem!reader #fallout 4 x reader #fallout 4 x fem!reader #ghoul x reader #ghoul x you #ghoul fallout #fallout 4 #fallout four #john hancock x sole survivor #john hancock x female reader #an4l

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citruslullabies · 27 days

Note

Ghoul x reader x Lucy, Cooper and Lucy find reader as they're traveling and take her in, Lucy falling HARD first and coop not being able to resist either!! Reader is like their cute lil partner, they do their best to share (or throuple!! Though I feel like no matter what they'd fight a bit over reader teehee)

Coming up!! Please be patient with me, I haven't written for these two before

Trigger warnings: none

Romantic/platonic?: romantic✨

Requested by: anonymous

Category: fluff

Ship (romantic or platonic): Cooper Howard x reader x Lucy

Word count: 726

Cowboy Competition

The wastelands were violent, ruthless to kill anything on land from dehydration or starvation. Or even being killed to become nutrition for someone else.

But coming across someone alive and worthy enough of life was rare, and that's who you were. You were on the brink of death when they found you. The ghoul wanted to leave you for dead but the vault dweller stopped and tried to save you, even with the risk of being left behind but by some miracle the man decided he'd wait on her. Now you were part of their journey to find Lucy’s father for answers in which you had no questions, but understood that they did.

Lucy walked beside you, her big brown eyes watching your every step as you were cleaning Cooper’s gun. Cooper only allowed you to come along if you had made yourself useful, which you had tried to. She spoke up after a few moments, giving you a soft smile as she held her hands behind her back. “You know you don't have to clean his guns, right? He can do that himself. You don't have to worry about it.”

You looked over at her, but before you could answer the ghoul walking ahead of you two answered for you. He didn't turn around to look at you two but he still spoke up. “Now sweetheart, if she wants to clean my guns I have no objections. So don't go putting your nose where it don't belong.” he said while clicking his teeth together, looking down at Dogmeat as he trotted beside him. You gave a small bat of the eyes before smiling reassuringly at Lucy, freeing up one of your calloused hands to rest on her shoulder. The fabric of her jumpsuit felt so foreign to your hands, but you didn't mind.

“It's alright, I really don't mind. Don't really know how else I could make myself useful.” You hummed before continuing to walk and clean as you go.

Time had passed and you had come to the realization that their journey was a long one, but it was a bit too late for you to turn back now. Especially with growing affections from both of your new friends, Lucy being the first to show. She was extra sweet, helping you carry things and allowing you to rest against her shoulder when you made camp at night and she'd rub circles into your cheek with her thumb as you dozed off, which she just found to be the sweetest thing. But to Lucy’s dismay a certain cowboy started to take a liking to you too.

As things were settling for the night and it was time to rest, you were getting ready to lean against Lucy for warmth like you had been doing but a southern drawl caught your attention.

“How about you come over here and sleep in my arms darlin, I imagine I'm a whole lot warmer than Vaultie over there.” He drew out, sitting down with Dogmeat cuddled into his side. Cooper patted the canine on the head and gave you his signature smirk. “You can even snuggle with the dog, lord knows he won't leave my side.” He added to sweeten the pot, earning a scowl from Lucy before she gently took your hand in hers.

She squeezed your hand in both of hers, looking into your eyes warmly and lovingly as she tried to get you to look at her and only her. “I'm probably a lot more comfortable to lean up against, so why don't you just.. stay here? With me?” She offered softly, which led to bickering and you just laying down and trying to fall asleep alone to ignore them. Coop was in his 200’s and Lucy in her 20’s, yet they both behaved like children. You sighed and snuggled your shoulders into the sand, popping one eye open when you suddenly felt gloved hands scoop you up and hold you close, before a softer body laid beside the both of you and tried to hold you as well. It felt like getting tangled up in wires, but it was people. You tilt your head up to see Cooper laying back with his hat over his face, and Lucy with her forehead against your cheek with shut eyes.

For once maybe, they wouldn't be so competitive.

Thanks for requesting!

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tinalbion · 1 month

Text

"You Reap What You Sow" ||

Part 1

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Cooper "The Ghoul" Howard x fem!Reader

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄! Mentions of death, decapitation, abuse (physical and mental), implied (but not mentioned) sexual abuse, manipulation

𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 4.7k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You had a bounty on your head and a familiar Ghoul has taken that bounty, so upon catching you, he escorts you back to the compound you escaped. Will you be able to convince him to let you go, or will it be for nothing?

It wasn't supposed to end up with you running from a bounty hunter that the Wastelands knew as one of the most efficient, most dangerous, and most successful in the business. You had done all you could by covering your tracks and remaining out of sight as much as possible, you had even covered most of your hair so the length and color weren't easily described to just any passersby. But naturally, your luck just never seemed to go your way.

As you slept beneath some discarded and tattered tarps inside of an abandoned structure, you figured it would be the safest bet that you'd survive the night, at the very least. The cold at night didn't bother you as much as you thought it would, but that was one of the things that was the least of your worries. There was enough food in your pack to last you maybe a week, and that was being generous, but you've gone without eating for a few days before, who's to say you couldn't do it again? There wasn't anything that would have prepared you for the absolute surprise shit show you decided to throw yourself into, but somehow being among the tumbleweeds, giant radioactive roaches, and the occasional fiend was still a hundred times better than what you initially put up with.

You just had to get to Filly, get there, somehow manage to get your hands on some weaponry, and make it far enough away that maybe your problems would forget you, and allow you to disappear. You wanted it more than anything in the world, well, maybe not as much as a cup of cold water, but you'd cross that bridge eventually. As you lay there, huddled beneath the small blanket you had and the tarps, you wondered what would happen now that you were gone from the compound. Would anyone be sent to search for you, or would they think you weren't worth the effort if at all? All of these things that weighed heavily on your mind didn't stop your body from finally relaxing and falling asleep for the night.

Daylight came and you were still alive, nothing found you or tried to eat your limbs as you slept, so you chalked that up as a success. You were back on the road, so to speak, and began to traverse the sandy terrains and had gotten pretty far, but your water was running low. It was slowing you down quite a bit, but you wanted to put as much distance between you and your abuser as possible.

It was a pretty solid life you had before all this, before he started laying his hands on you and treating you as he did. It wasn't your fault, even if it was just power and the man finally showed his true colors. Axton was a very colorful character when you first met him, and he was just like you, trying his best to make it in the Wastelands, but he was doing rather well with what he'd accomplished unlike yourself. You didn't ask questions as to how he made it as far as he did, already knowing the seedy ways people survived in this world, so you took to blissful ignorance as he welcomed you into the fold. At first, things were nice and he welcomed you into his little found faction, the Condemned, but sooner rather than later, you learned that a lot of the people there hadn't started in the group of free will.

And the more you found out, the more you felt disgusted by the behavior of Axton, who now treated you the same way a Fiend treats its next meal. He'd batter you if you questioned him, and made sure you had no interest in finding out more, and it was even worse when you stumbled upon his involvement with Vault-Tec and the cruel fate of Shady Sands. You needed out and you needed it fast, especially since you had a sneaking suspicion anyone who worked against him was punished in more cruel ways than you'd suffered at his hands.

So in the dead of night, you gathered all you could in a traveling pack and got the hell out of there, but not without a little work. During your time there, you caught onto things, ways to kill a person and otherwise, so your challenge was hefty. Three of his men, some of whom you'd gotten to know, had been the obstacle between you and keeping your life, and they'd paid with theirs. You had a feeling this wouldn't be the first time you'd ever shed blood.

It would be difficult, but you wanted to put that distance between yourself and those memories, and so you ran. You weren't good at sticking around and fighting, but you could if given the chance or cornered, but your concern was staying alive.

You had trekked for so long that you'd forgotten how long it had been since you left. A week, it had been a week, or maybe close to two, and you survived this long. Go, you. With a small, almost defeated smile on your face, you sighed and nodded to yourself to keep going. A couple hundred feet, several more, and then you'd stumbled upon a forested area. There had been large walls constructed of scraps and remnants of sheet metal, and wood, and it seemed whatever else could hold together. So without much hesitation, you made your way through the doors and walked in, seeing a small settlement, dozens of people wandering around and making trades, working, doing what they could to get by.

Slowly, you made your way down the stairs and wandered around slowly, taking everything in while you searched for anything that could further your journey. With as much as you looked around, you should have noticed the out-of-place form wandering around, watching you with intense eyes. You had wandered into a shop called Ma June's Sundries, where she would happily -or not so happily- trade what she had for caps. Thankfully you came prepared with said currency.

“Uh hello,” you greeted the older woman. “Do you have anything resembling a decent gun I could buy from you?”Your eyes scanned the walls, the shelves, and anything you could see before you turned back to speak to her.

Ma June looked up at you with curiosity and stared at you over her glasses. “Got a couple back against the wall there, you got the caps?”

“Sure do, I just need something with a bit of a kick, but nothing too hefty, if that's possible.”

June directed you toward the back wall where the weapons were displayed, but she kept her eyes on you, making sure you wouldn't try anything too suspicious or try to rip her off in any way. “What'chu need something like that for?” She eyed you, noticing the bruising that was around your neck and eye, but she didn't comment on it.

“Protection,” you stated simply. “Can't be too careful out there.”

June eyed you but didn't argue against it. “Yeah, you're right about that,” she agreed, albeit a tad skeptically.

Truth was there was a bounty put out on you, a large one at that, but you were none the wiser. June couldn't place where she saw your face before, but at her age, who knew where she'd seen you before?

You grabbed a gun off the wall and were rather impressed with how intact it was and how nicely it held. “How many caps for this?” You held up a 14mm pistol, a decent-sized weapon that could easily fit into your pack if you needed to conceal it.

June eyed it and wondered if you'd be naive enough for her to get away with a price gouge, but the closer she looked at you, the more she saw that you had something about you. The woman decided to test you, and see what she could get out of it. “Eighty caps.”

You stared at her and furrowed your brows. “Eighty? That's a bit steep don't you think?”

“What, you the expert on firearms now?” She asked. “Comes with ammo too,” she assured you as her arms were crossed.

“This still goes for at least forty-five, and that’s brand new unless you can assure I'm getting my ammo's worth.”

June sighed and waved her hand dismissively. “Fine, fine. Sixty caps with ammo, take it or leave it.”

You smiled and nodded. “Got yourself a deal there, ma'am.” You grabbed the gun and a box of ammo, then rummaged around a bit and found a decent sheath for the gun, and even an upgraded combat knife that you willingly traded the old one for, which was still a decent knife, but the less you had from your previous residence, the better.

June looked at your hoard and smiled a bit, staring up at you. “Looks like you're readyin’ yourself for another apocalypse,” she commented.

You just sighed and nodded. “Sorta. Ran away from someone dangerous, wanna make sure I can survive long enough.”

“Dangerous, huh?”

“Yeah. Abusive is a better term, maybe.”

June sighed and shook her head, knowing fully well what people were capable of. “Sorry, didn't wanna pry.”

“It's kinda obvious if you didn't notice,” you said as you made a gesture to your face. “But I'll live, hopefully with these.” You patted the pile of weapons you gathered.

June nodded and slid back ten of your caps, and before you could question her, she slid a small kit your way. “Don't tell anyone I did this, take it.” You wanted to protest, but she waved her hand dismissively again. “I ain't gonna repeat myself, take it, don't question it, and don't tell. Simple.” It was a small thing she’d put together for her regulars who frequented her shop; a small handful of freeze-dried fruits and vegetables, some fresh if she could spare it, and some other prepared foods that would last during a journey. There’d been more things, but you looked up at her with a thankful smile, not wanting to question her kindness.

You smiled and nodded as you took the kit and slipped it into your bag. “Thanks, ma'am. I'm gonna head out, where can I find a place to stay? Not long term, something less out in the open?”

“Ain't much you're gonna get to, but nowhere around here anyway. You're welcome to travel out south-east to the desolate Wasteland that is Shady Sands, maybe somethin’ passed all that.” June didn't know much of what was transpiring out past that way, but she figured you wouldn't make it long regardless.

“Alright, well, thanks, ma'am. You have a good one.” You smiled and waved at her, then walked through the door and raised your hand to block the sun from your eyes. The light had distracted you enough to where you didn't see the figure looming behind you.

“You must be the little escape artist back from The Boons?” The deep southern drawl caught you off guard and you jumped. He barely moved as you spun around, swallowing as if your throat became extremely dry.

“W-What do you mean?”

“You, you're the girl they're lookin’ for. Got a biiiiig ol’ bounty on that little head of yours.” The Ghoul stepped up closer, his hand placed gently on the hilt of his gun in case he needed to use it. “Gonna have to ask you to accompany me back to the Boons, sweetheart,” he stated, and it didn't seem like it was up for debate.

“What if I told you–”

“I don't rightly care what you gotta say, what I'm tellin’ you right now is I'm either gonna have you walk out here with me, or you're gonna be dragged outta here. Your choice, really.”

You wanted to bolt and try your hand at making it out of there, but where would you go afterward? He probably knew this place much better than you, and even then, you were running straight into the unknown outside of these walls. You stared at him, silently pleading with him to reconsider, but he didn’t seem too keen on giving a damn. With a defeated sigh, you bit your bottom lip and took a singular step back.

“Are you sure you won’t reconsider, Mister Ghoul?” You asked him, feeling hopeless.

The Ghoul just scoffed at you and let out a sigh, letting his head fall slightly as he stared at you beneath the brim of his hat. “‘Mister Ghoul’, huh? C’mon, girl, let’s go. Gotta get you back in one piece, and as fun as it is to batter up my bounties some, I got strict instructions and an even bigger pay increase if I don’t.”

With the way he carried himself, you saw that he was no joke, you didn’t want to test him further, so you slumped your head and fell into standing beside him. “Alright…” You would go quietly, for now anyway, but this would still give you enough time to get a read of him. For now, you’d study him, see how plausible it was to break off from him, maybe catch him in a distraction, and bolt for the nearest way out. You would only take so many things lying down, and returning to Axton was not going to be one of them.

So far, the Ghoul had been surprised with how easily you were complying with his directions, and it was almost too easy to the point he grew suspicious of your behavior. He would watch you from the corner of his eye, he knew how to spot different types of body language, knowing how to read people considering he’d been wandering for over two hundred years. He knew you’d react the way they all do in the end, he just had to be ready for it when you’d finally shown your true colors.

He continued to stay just a little behind you as you walked back the familiar way in which you came, your head hung low as you passed by the wreckage left out in the wilds. You wanted to plead with him, but with his type, he wasn’t going to let you get a word in, so you just kept to yourself.

What would you do, though, when you were finally brought back before the piece of shit you called a friend, a lover? Would you break down and go back, allowing him to treat you ten times worse than he already had, or would you die trying to kill him in his sleep? You preferred the latter.

“What’s gotten you all tense, smoothie? You ain’t tryin’ to run, and I find that more unnerving than you attempting to bolt.”

His voice pulled you out of the depths of your mind, away from the darkness, and into the bright sun that shines over what used to be Los Angeles. You looked over at him, your face as pensive as ever, then you looked away and shrugged. “You seem to be a guy who knows his way around guns and bounties, I got no shot against you.”

He must have not liked that simplistic response with the way he looked at you, but that’s all you really had to say to him. “Well that may be true, which I can definitely say it is, I just couldn’t help but think you were more of a fighter than that,” he huffed.

Was he trying to bait you to try and run? Was he just bored and looking for some fun along the way?

“Seems like you’re a scrapper, what with the black eye and all,” he raised his hand and vaguely pointed at you, but you didn’t look over at him after he’d pointed it out.

“Yeah, I suppose so…” You shrunk within yourself and wanted to take a moment, the hot sun and lack of water in your system made you feel faint. You stumbled a bit and fell to the ground, falling to one knee as your hand caught you from teetering over completely. “Dammit…” You sighed and threw your pack onto the ground, digging for your canteen.

The Ghoul stopped and turned to watch you, not helping, but not stopping you either. His hand was always resting on the hilt of his gun no matter what you did, but he seemed much more relaxed than he was in Filly. He figured you wouldn’t get far by running, and he would have been right. “This one of your little games to throw me off?” He asked, suddenly amused.

“No,” you huffed in return, keeping it short. You drank greedily and panted to catch your breath once you finished half of your water, then looked up at him. “We gotta camp somewhere before it gets too dark,” you pointed out. “I think I remember passing a weird structure that seemed okay up that way,” you said as you pointed in the direction.

The Ghoul just laughed and looked at you as if you were sprouting a second head. “You think I’m gonna let you make decisions? You ain’t got much of a choice right now, sweetheart, so we either go until I saw we stop, or I can rough you up a little to make sure I ain’t questioned again. You hear me?”

“I didn’t mean anything by it, Mister Ghoul,” you said as you sat in the grainy sand, your brow covered in sweat while you tried to regain some sense. “I just… I feel weak and didn’t wanna hold you up.”

He stared down at you in confusion. “You with all this ‘Mister Ghoul’ bullshit, what is your deal?”

“What, you mean having manners?” You asked with a sharp laugh, then slowly got to your feet. “I just… it’s instilled into me, that I was taught to not talk back unless… well, never mind that, it’s just a habit. What, want me to be just as gross and derogatory as the rest of the population?” This time you had a bit of bite with your bark, and the bounty hunter took notice immediately. “Sorry… I didn’t mean it–”

“You did,” the Ghoul corrected, “and it ain’t like I’ve not heard it all, been around a long time, it don’t bother me none. I’m in this to get paid and that’s it.” He started to walk a little ahead as you dragged along, wishing you had just laid low for a bit longer.

Wordlessly, you continued beside the man as he guided you, but his steps had slowed a little for you to keep up with him. That was the first thing you noticed on this trip that didn’t seem in character. But you didn't know this man in the way many references to him as, you weren't aware of the years he held the title of a feared bounty hunter, you just knew that the closer you got back to the Boons, the more you felt physically sick.

The sun was setting and getting significantly colder now that you didn't have much coverage, but you both were still out in the open as you continued forward, you were growing paranoid. There had been roads instead of sand, which meant you were on the right track to being back in the Boons, but you were more exhausted than you realized.

“Could we maybe stop for a bit, please? I'm so tired…” you said through a stifled yawn, then rubbed the water that formed in your eyes. “I'll give you whatever Rad-X or chems I got in my bag if we do.”

You could barely keep your eyes open, and as much as the gunslinger would have liked to get just a bit further, he figured since you had been a decent enough well-mannered individual, he would grant you this little favor. He sighed and veered off to the left where he spotted a decent area that seemed to have some form of shelter, which looked like an old gas station.

“Red Rocket…” You said to yourself as you looked around for any potential threats, wondering if anything would pop out at you. Carefully, you checked inside the building and all seemed suspiciously fine. There were no radroaches, no lone raiders lurking about, it all seemed pretty calm for a place to spend the night. You looked back at your captor and then around the area. “Would this suffice? It's covered and two exits are visible in case we need ‘em.”

The Ghoul squinted at you, watching you intently while you seemed to get a good layout of the place. “Were you special forces or some shit, checkin’ the exits isn't exactly normal for your typical smoothie, and you aren't exactly what I expected you to be.”

You looked over at him as he stood in the doorway and smiled, a real genuine smile that he took notice of, and you shrugged. “Well, when you run away from a place that makes you feel like you have to know the layout of a room to escape, then maybe it's not a place worth going back to.”

This took him off guard but he didn't show it, instead, he continued to watch you as you situated everything around you into a suitable area to sleep in. He wanted to question you, but that meant he would be getting involved, and someone like him didn't do that. Instead, he walked around the perimeter and made sure that there wasn't anything threatening to either of you, he still needed you alive to get the caps he was owed.

The Ghoul walked over toward a shredded-up faux leather booth and figured he could rest up there until you had slept long enough, so he sat back and kicked his feet up, then tipped the hat he wore over his face to shield his eyes. He was planning on leaving it at that, but you kept making little noises here and there, ones that weren't distracting in normal circumstances. But for some reason, his body couldn't rest and he peeked over at you as you finally had gotten comfortable with a makeshift pillow you made in that little bit of time.

When he looked over at you, though, you were already staring at him. “What is it?” He asked, his tone still somewhat cold and distant.

“Nothing, really. You just look familiar is all.”

He scoffed and shook his head, turning away from you so you could see his profile. “Sure thing, what, all us Ghouls look the same?”

“No, you look like someone I used to watch in movies with my dad.” You turned away from him, not wanting to annoy him further, but you stared up at the decaying ceiling and sighed. “My favorite one was ‘A Man and His Dog’, I always asked my dad for a dog after we watched that movie. He hated it when I constantly asked, but he was happy I at least liked the movie.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “Sometimes I wish I could watch it again.”

The Ghoul listened, his eyes stared ahead at the wall as he focused on your words. You liked his movie, well, the man he used to be. That caused so many feelings to come flooding back that he just sat in unmoving silence, but after a while, he looked back over at you. You seemed to be miles away as you stared off, and he grew more and more curious about this bounty. He shouldn't have gotten involved, this wasn't his place.

“Why’d you run from the Boons?”

When you turned over, staring up at him with such doe eyes, he felt disgusted with the way you were slowly making him feel. He hadn't felt this way in a very long time, but even after everything, it seemed he still had a heart somewhere underneath it all.

You figured it wouldn't matter how much he knew, it would all just be for nothing anyway, you were going back regardless. “I ran because I was sick of the abuse. I was tired of being treated worse than I ever had before, I'd rather take my chances in the wilds with beasts and cannibals rather than be hurt like that again.” Recalling everything Axton had put you through hurt, but you became a bit stronger and you pushed yourself until you left, something you didn't know you had the strength to do. Even if you were to be dragged back and given back to the man who did unspeakable things to you, it still showed that no matter how much you were broken down physically, you were stronger than him and you wouldn't let him break that.

The Ghoul continued to stare at you, he wasn't sure what to really say after hearing that, but he wasn't one to solve anyone's problems in such a complex way. He brought people in for a payment and that was it, the problem was no longer his, he washed his hands of it and left. But something about hearing what you endured in the Boons struck a nerve with him, although it shouldn't have, he'd done worse things for less pay.

You took his silence as uninterest, so you turned to where your back faced him, staring off at the bits of broken glass and counters that once occupied the building. As much as you wanted to sleep, the heaviness in your body all but disappeared for the time being, so you looked up at him from your makeshift pillow, wondering if you should continue to bother him with your silly questions.

“So, do you have a name?”

The Ghoul scoffed and peeked over at you again. “Weren't you the one who was complainin’ you were tired? Go to sleep.”

“I am, I just figured I'd ask since I've been calling you Mister Ghoul. Or are you Mister Bounty Hunter?”

“Call me whatever you like, it ain't gonna matter much.” He turned back and looked out the window, staring at the trees that shrouded the edges of the road further down the way, and he felt himself slowly but surely finding those rough, calloused edges being torn down by you.

Everyone always kept him at arm's length, or even further, he was a cold-blooded killer in it for the score. But someone like you would come along every so often and challenge that view, yet you alone made him question it all.

“Hmm well I'm bad with picking names, so I suppose Mister Hunter works since well, I know you're a Ghoul and that's not all there is about you.”

The gunslinger just laughed at you, finding your conversation a lot more entertaining than you expected him to find it. “You are absolutely ridiculous,” he scoffed and tilted his head back down. “Get some rest, we got a long walk tomorrow.”

You lay there and sighed as you nestled against the small, thin blanket you had, and you wished he could see reason when you tried to talk him out of taking you back. “I wish you'd reconsider… I can't pay you what he is, but he'll kill me once I'm back.”

The Ghoul sighed loudly. “Again, that ain't my concern, sweetheart. Much as I wanna help, if I put my foot in the grave, I ain't gettin’ out of it. Nothin’ personal, you understand?”

“I'll steal from him, I'll get you your pay, I don't care, just please don't leave me with him…” Your voice was barely a whisper as you begged him, but you soon fell asleep as your pleas went on deaf ears, and you cried yourself to sleep.

The Ghoul, on the other hand, had heard your pleas, and it filled him with a sense of dread and what he could only remember as heartbreak, which he was more than familiar with, but feeling that for you? Now that was questionable at best, but what was it about you, about your plight that he felt the need to pry into your business and find out more about this bounty? Whatever the case, he was more exhausted than he realized, soon he was following your example and fell asleep while his mind was plagued with his past.

#tinalbion writings #cooper howard #cooper howard x you #ghoul x reader #the ghoul #fallout series #fallout show #ghoul x you #walton goggins #cooper howard fanfiction #cooper howard oneshot #cooper howard imagine #fem!reader #angst #angst with a happy ending

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damagedghoulette · 13 days

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Imagine having sex with either Aether or Omega in missionary..

Their bellies pinning you below them as they slam their hips into you, holding onto you as if you might disappear

#ghost band #the band ghost #ghost ghouls #ghost bc #ghost #nameless ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost headcanons #ghoul headcannon #omega ghost #omega ghoul #aether ghost #aether ghoul #ghost hc #spicy ghost #ghoul x reader #ghoul x you #spicy tag #DamagedGhoulette

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silcoitus · 27 days

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Dance with Two Devils

Rating: Explicit—Minors DNI

Arcane/Fallout Crossover!

Silco x f!reader, Ghoul x f!reader, smut, cuck silco, Dom Silco , Dom/sub, Cuckolding, Threesome if you squint, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Mentioned Singed, Sevika cameo, don't look into the lore too closely, or the timeline, it's just Zaun but wasteland

Beta readers: @medic-simp

Word count: 2.9k

Silco's best bounty hunter The Ghoul comes to receive his payout. He ends up with a whole lot more.

Read on AO3

Taglist: @averagecrastinator @mazikomo @writingmysanity @insult-2-injury @ariaud @jennrosefx @ins0mniac-whack @steponmesilco @sherwood-forests @leave-me-alone-silco @givemebeansnow @aeryntheofficial @dreamyonahill @lostbunn @whatisafandom @violet-19999 @juicboxd @sageandberries-png @sirenofzaun @blissfulip @mutedwordz @fly-like-egyptian-musk @jennithejester @mrsdelirium @witheringblooddemon

Join my taglist!

#silcoitus #silcoitus writing #silco #silco x you #silco x reader #x reader #reader x character #reader insert #canon x self insert #canon x reader #ghoul x reader #ghoul x you #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #crossover

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monster-lovers-anonymous · 1 month

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Please. Read my Ghoul/reader fic. I need everyone to know the vision that has been haunting me for days.

#fallout series #fallout show #the ghoul #ghoul x reader #ghoul x you #cooper howard

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hrefna-the-raven · 1 day

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The hunt

Fallout masterlist - main masterlist

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x reader

Chapter 1 - The plan - Chapter 2 - The bounty

Summary: you take a break before moving on with the plan to kill Dom Pedro 😉

(this happens before Cooper ends up in that grave)

Words: 1858

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, smut (18+)

Notes: this is less gender-neutral due to some delicious smut 😇 I had a female reader in mind while writing this

Chapter 3 - The spoils

The sun was already disappearing behind the horizon when you finally reached the shabby motel in the nearby settlement. The building was run down, plaster crumbling from the walls and the broken windows poorly fixed with a few wooden planks lazily nailed across. It wasn't the place to spend your honeymoon in but it surely was enough to get a full night's sleep and where a ghoul wouldn't draw too much attention. The owner was a sleazy man in his fifties named Dietz. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he reluctantly rose from his small stool, grumbling under his breath as he got the keys to your room and tossed them carelessly on the counter before his greedy hands snatched the caps. Out of a misplaced politeness, you still uttered a quick thank you before making your way up the staircase, with Cooper close behind, his eyes darting from one corner to another. He didn't like this place one bit but given the circumstances, neither of you had much of a choice. Both of you let out a sigh as soon the weathered wooden door closed behind you and you had locked it tightly. The room was worn down in all aspects with the scarce and stained wallpaper peeling down from the walls, revealing countless cracks that marred its surface like veins on flesh. Cooper's gaze wandered over the sorry state of the room, from the dirty armchairs in the corner over the only bed before landing on your face, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. He hesitated for a moment, unsure whether he should let you comment on it first but before his body took the decision for him as he heard his own voice laced with sarcasm and a hint of playful banter.

"Looks like we'll have to share, sweetheart."

"Oh no", you tilted your head back dramatically, "sharing a grimy mattress with my favourite movie star and bounty hunter. How could I ever live through this?"

You giggled, poking your tongue out at him while reaching into the backpack and tossing a bottle in his direction. Cooper smiled to himself, his fingers brushing over the label on the bottle, reminiscing about the delightful moments he had shared while savouring this particular brand. He wondered if it would still have the same taste now that he had changed. Placing his hat on the table, he opened the bottle and took a whiff, letting out a contented sigh. As he turned around, his heart skipped a few beats at the sight of you undressing slowly. Standing there dressed only in tight pants and a tank top, the torn fabric teasingly revealing glimpses of your soft skin underneath, you wore a mischievous grin on your lips. With a playful tiptoe, you approached him, your hands gliding over his shoulders before sliding off his dusty coat. Cooper swallowed hard, his breaths growing heavier and his hands trembled. In an attempt to steady himself, he brought the bottle to his lips and took a long swig of whiskey, downing half of it in one go, earning a chuckle from you.

"What?", he smirked, thankful that his ghoulish face wouldn't blush, "didn't you say something about having some fun?"

You snatched the bottle from his hands, took a few sips as you settled down into the armchair. He undid the first buttons of his shirt and sank into the chair beside you.

Both of you lost track of time, discussing about whatever topic your minds came up with. Patiently, he answered all your questions about his life before the bombs fell and while it filled him with a certain melancholy, his heart still boomed with a blissful gratefulness of spending his time with you. The bond the two of you shared filled him with a joy he didn't think possible after those centuries. He clumsily set his second bottle down on the table, enjoying the delightful buzz of the liquor coursing through his veins. His hazy eyes found yours, a chuckle erupting from his chest at the sight of your playful expression.

"What?", he hummed.

"Well we still need to settle one problem before we can call it a day - one bed, two of us."

"Mhm. Tell me, what's on that mind of yours then?"

"First one at the bed gets it all to themselves."

There was a spark in his eyes, his muscles tense while he tried to keep his poker face, but you had this already planned out from the very beginning. Just as he leapt up, you hurled one of the empty bottles at him and while he scrambled to catch it, you made your jump to the bed, landing on the mattress with a soft thud, sprawling out, to claim every inch of space. He stood there, observing you, his thoughts racing through all the possibilities. Feeling somewhat cocky and shameless, his drunken mind couldn't resist the urge to tease as he etched closer allowing his body to fall towards you. You shrieked as you watched him hurtling towards you, but just before his body touched yours, he stopped the fall with his forearms, his face now hovering mere inches above yours. The heat rose to your cheeks at the sudden closeness and your breath hitched, unable to keep your eyes from darting between his and his lips. A strange smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, one that last graced his face while still living the simple life as a normal human in a long forgotten world. The playful remark he planned had vanished from his mind, leaving an empty feeling that was gradually consumed by the uncomfortable tightness in his pants. His gaze drifted from your lips downwards, pausing at your cleavage, observing your excited breaths. Your entire body burned under his gaze and your thighs were pressed together in a desperate attempt to ignore the heat pooling between them. Eyes fixed on his lips, you lifted your head slightly but just as you were about to finally touch them, he moved his head, looking away.

"You don't want to do this...I'm not, I'm....just look at me and what I am", he stuttered, feeling all too naked and vulnerable.

He yearned for your touch, every fibre in his mutated body screamed for the love you seemed to offer, but he was scared, afraid a monster like him would never deserve the intimacy shared by two hearts. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him down on you. A dark groan escaped his lips as his growing bulge was pressed tightly against you. All his determination to resist you vanished completely when your lips clashed on his, drowning him in the softness of their touch. The chuckle that came from you as you broke away tore straight through his heart.

"There is nothing and no one I'd desire more, Coop."

He drank in your words, their meaning slowly unravelling in his mind, the corners of his mouth twitching. He wanted to whisper a thousand things yet none left his lips as he simply stared at you, eyes filled with a glow you couldn't quite identify. This time he leaned in, his kiss first tender and then it deepened, desire and desperation evident as his tongue eagerly passed your lips, teasing and coaxing with an insatiable hunger. Shamelessly, you moaned, your fingers deftly unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off his shoulders, your hands then caressing his bare chest. Despite the scars and mutations his skin felt surprisingly soft and warm beneath the touch of your fingertips. Your hand caressed further down, sneaking around to dig your fingers into his butt, earning more of those primal groans. It ignited a wildfire in him, he grabbed your tanktop and ripped it apart. A wicked smile danced on your lips, forcing both of you to roll over and you straddled him, pinning his arms down. When you began to grind your hips against his, a low, guttural moan escaped from the back of his throat. His head tilted back and a smirk formed on his lips.

"Mmh I love those sounds, although they sound a bit...feral", you quipped, your breath coming out in uneven gasps as you felt the wetness between your folds.

"Oh Sweetie, if you keep teasing me, I will eat you", he warned with a dangerous grin.

"Hm...is that a threat or a promise?", you purred.

"Does it matter?", Cooper's gravelly voice rumbled from deep within his chest, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of desire and determination as he shifted beneath you.

His hands grasped your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin with a possessive grip as he flipped you around, almost tearing your pants while pulling them off you.

"Coop", you gasped at the sudden nakedness.

He grinned, his lustful gaze capturing yours as he unzipped his own pants, finally freeing his throbbing cock and he positioned himself between your legs. His hips bucked and his length rubbed through your slick folds.

"All this just for me", he murmured ,more to himself, as he finally entered you.

Sinful moans escaped both of you at the feeling and Cooper started to thrust, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of your hips, urging you to take more of him. He picked up the pace, pounding into you faster and faster, hitting that perfect spot over and over again. One hand let go of your hip and moved between you, rubbing your clit while he continued thrusting into you. He grunted as his climax approached, momentarily distracted by the realisation that he hadn't felt this good in a long while. The desire and want in your eyes as you looked at him, he hadn't experienced this since before the bombs fell and even back then, it had been a while since Barb had looked at him the same way. And then, against all odds, right here and now, his rotted ghoulish face glanced into the depths of a kind of affection he had yearned for all this time, even back then when his marriage was already falling apart. Whispers of your name spilled from his lips as he fell apart and you reached your own release almost at the same moment, your eyes open as you came undone, locked on his while a pleased and loving smile graced your lips. It was in this moment that Cooper knew you'd be the death of him and that he'd gladly take it because he had finally found himself exactly where he wanted to be. He pulled out and settled beside you, panting but with a wide grin etched across his face.

"Hm, no witty remark, Mr Howard?", you teased, snuggling up to him.

"You know, no one has looked at me like that in a very, very long time", he said, his eyes finding yours, "I could almost gettin' used to that."

"Well, my schedule's free after taking care of Dom Pedro", you murmured, face nestled against his skin as you crossed the edge of blissful dreams.

"What a coincidence", he chuckled, "mine too."

His eyes fell shut and Cooper drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 4

Feel free to reblog if you liked the story 😊

Tags: @dreamtofus

#fallout #fallout tv series #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout ghoul #fallout x reader #fallout x you #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #bounty hunter #two hunters one target #ghoul x reader #ghoul x you #shady motel #smut #the ghoul longs to be loved #come and get your ghoul smut

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demigoddessqueens · 10 days

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How The Ghoul/Cooper and y/n most likely flirt

#fallout #fallout amazon #the ghoul #ghoul x reader #headcanons #ghoul x you #ghoul x y/n #walter goggins #copper howard #copper Howard x reader

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buryustogether · 1 month

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songbird

the ghoul x f!reader

summary: you used to be a singer in your vault - that skill comes in handy when you least expect it, and least want to use it. but who are you to say no when cooper tells you to sing for him?

wc: 5.7k

warnings: swearing, talk of murder, blood, alcohol, gun violence, sexual tension, smut, fingering, p in v sex, biting, possessive sex, possessive cooper

You had to admit - if you and your companion didn't find shelter soon, one of you was going to drop and the other wouldn't hesitate to feast on what was left.

The deserts of the Wasteland were harsh - you had known that the moment you stepped out of your vault those months ago and you had been faced with nothing but a searing sun, sand that got stuck places it shouldn't have, and creatures and fellow people alike who would risk it all simply for a quick grab at the pack on your back. But it seemed like this past week, God or Satan or whoever the fuck was controlling this shitshow of a world was in a bad mood. The heat was unbearable, even at night when the chilly winds should have weaseled their way beneath your vault suit and cooled your burning skin. Creatures mutated by the long-settled radiation were feeling the anger of the wasteland, as well, charging without warning or provocation. To top off a less than perfect week, your water supply had run out yesterday, and unless the skies opened up and released a storm of rad-infested hail upon your head, you weren't sure you would find any more before you keeled over and kicked it.

Struggling to plant your feet stable in the mounds of sand beneath you as you made your way between the shells of buildings that had once stood tall and proud, you glanced over your shoulder at your companion. Cooper was better adapted for this kind of environment than you were, what with his hardened skin and the wide brim of his hat shielding his face, but even he looked worse for wear. When he picked up his head, seeming to feel your eyes on him, you quickly averted your gaze and set your attention back on moving one foot in front of the other.

"Fuck're you lookin' at?" he said, his voice raspy as he called out through the dry air.

"Nothing," you snipped back, refusing to give him the satisfaction of facing him again. "Just wondering if I'm going to have to carry you the rest of the way, asshole."

The heat was making you both snappy - you hated it.

Your first meeting with Cooper hadn't gone smoothly. Hell, your second or third hadn't, either. You weren't exactly sure when you had fallen into a more comfortable presence around one another, but it sure as shit hadn't happened overnight. You'd been only half a day fresh from your vault when you'd seen him scavenging madly over a mess of bodies he'd dropped where they stood, searching for a number of vials kept in their pockets that he let drip into his open mouth like a fountain of youth. When you had called out a friendly hello to him, he'd nearly shot your brains out. Cooper had taken in your shocked expression - as you'd clearly never seen a ghoul before - as well as the stark blue of your vault suit and the pack over your shoulders, then promptly told you to scoot your ass back around to wherever the hell you had come from. Of course, you hadn't. You'd followed him from a distance, watching as he'd picked his way across the dusty sands until he'd wrangled you with the lasso at his hip, told you to fuck right off, and left you tied to a number of old pipes in the basement of a nearly collapsed building.

A day later, you'd tracked his footprints in the sand to a little settlement, where you hadn't ducked away quick enough to avoid his gaze. He'd threatened to blow your brains out if he caught you following him again. He'd only half-delivered on that promise when, not ten hours later, he'd planted a fist-sized hole in the skull of a raider attempting to cut your throat for the Pip-Boy affixed to your wrist.

From then on, he'd simply chosen to ignore you as you followed behind him like a lost dog, intent on staying with the biggest, baddest wolf in the yard. After a week, he'd tossed you a part of his rations. A week after that, he'd - not too gently - invited you to sit at the campfire with him when he saw you shivering beneath your thin, vault-issued blanket a good few yards away.

Somewhere along the way you'd started to talk. Started to share - at least, you had. Cooper had simply tucked his hat over his eyes and pretended not to listen while you rattled about this and that until he physically couldn't take it anymore and told you to go the fuck to sleep.

These months later, having accompanied him all this time, you didn't hesitate to call him a friend. Maybe something more, if you let the ache between your legs when you looked at him speak for you, but you knew it was a fantasy and nothing more, so you decided to stick with 'friend.'

Back in the present, you swallowed and winced when your throat barked with a bout of pain in response. You didn't think you'd make it another mile, let alone five, which was how far Cooper claimed the nearest town was. Despite the months you'd spent adapting out here to the wastelands, you were still attempting to cope with the hardships that came with it. Vault life wasn't anything like this; there was always water to drink, beds to sleep in. Cool air to bask in when it got just the slightest bit too hot. Of course, you didn't voice these complains to your companion. If you did, you had no doubt he'd tell you to shut the fuck up and deal with it.

Just as you were about to ask if you could take a short break and get away from the harsh sun beating on your back like repeated blows from a red-hot hammer, a gloved hand wrapped around your arm and held you in place. You jerked to a stop, nearly falling back on your ass as Cooper held you where you stood. You prepared a strongly-worded question as to just what he was doing before you followed his gaze downward, to where a small handful of pairs of footprints traveled perpendicular to yours. Together, you tilted your heads to the left where the foreign prints were headed, and it was there you found a small slope leading downward into what may have once been a shopping mall. From where you stood, you were able to see that the glass dome around the center of the mall had been shattered, letting out the gentle sound of music and human hollers.

You exchanged a look with Cooper, each of you sunken from the iron-fisted heat weighing you down, then slid down the sandy slope after him when he took off toward the shopping mall.

If there was one thing you had learned about Cooper since planting yourself at his side and refusing to leave, it was that he valued silence above almost everything else. You, on the other hand, had come from a talkative vault, where gossip reached every end of every chamber only an hour - at max - after anything noteworthy had happened. Your companion had once called you the biggest yap he'd ever heard, and you would have taken it for a compliment had he not told you to shove it a moment after. The two of you had been silent nearly the entire day now, save for a few venomous barks at each other, and you cleared your scratchy throat in an attempt to lighten your shitty moods.

"I used to read about shopping malls in the magazines," you said, leaning your weight backwards as the sandy slope shifted downward. "They had all kinds of stores inside."

"Thanks for the reminder," Cooper bit back, quickening his stride. "Would have fuckin' forgot without you here."

You let your eyes roll into the back of your head as you struggled to catch up to him, your boots digging into the uneven earth beneath you. "When I was a kid, a few of my friends and I would draw pictures of clothes - because, you know, we only had our suits - and then spread them across one of our rooms and pretend to shop. It was stupid, but it we made entertainment where we could."

"Now, was this before you started pretending to be Billie Holliday?"

You gave him a sideways glance. "Who's that?"

Cooper shook his head and took off ahead of you. "Jesus fuckin' Christ."

During one of your, as your companion called them, yap sessions, you had confided in him that your vault valued the arts above anything else. Since you were a child, they had encouraged you to find something you enjoyed, as long as you were able to call yourself an artist. Painting hadn't worked out too well. Writing had been a bust. But then you'd discovered singing - a way in which you were able to express yourself without actually saying how you felt. You could drape the tunes in metaphors and similes, bump the second verse from the first, and when you were done, everyone would get to their feet to applaud as if your songs were the best things they'd ever heard. Cooper hadn't expressed much interest in this, instead taking to calling you a songbird with her wings clipped when he deemed you were at your lowest and needed to be kicked while you were down.

Of course, you hadn't shown him - you would have to be long dead for that - but over the course of the few months you'd known him, you had confided in your notebook carried in your pack all the little things you'd come up with that complimented his persona. How the gold at his heels called for you with each step he took. The way his hands, encased behind leather that creaked, held a smoke so delicately you could have imagined it was you. The rasping curl of his words when he smiled while he spoke and how each word cast a spell that made you want to follow him until the sun exploded and the earth was gone.

Cooper was an enigma you couldn't help but wonder after, and every scrap of himself he tossed to you led you on like a dog on a leash.

The music and echoing sound of laughter from deep inside the shopping mall became louder as the pair of you approached, eyes scanning for snipers on the roof or guards posted at the busted-out windows. There wasn't a person in sight, only mannequins stripped of their clothing hanging out the openings and long-shredded posters clinging to broken glass. Cooper led the way inside, picking a path across the wreckage and rubble stacked haphazardly against the entrance. You felt your pulse tick up when he produced his gun from the worn holster at his side, tapping his trigger finger against the side of the firearm in time with the music winding its way down the wide corridors.

As you followed your companion through the shopping mall, you couldn't help but ogle at the numerous attractions you passed. Shops had been boarded up and torn open again, giving you a glimpse of tattered clothes still on hangers, books tipped over on shelves, pre-war machines behind display cases that were covered in two hundred years' worth of dirt and grime. Gang signs and dirty catchphrases had been spraypainted along the walls and windows in a rainbow of colors. In the center of the long aisle you were wandering, a carousel meant for children sat neglected, still fitted with cartoonish horses who had seen better days than these.

"Did you used to come to these often?" you asked as you stepped across a mannequin missing its head.

"Shut the fuck up for a minute." Cooper raised a hand to pair with his little spat, silencing you from asking any further questions. His tongue darted out between his cracked lips as he placed his steps carefully around shattered glass and wind-up toys that would declare your position to the entire mall. He led you around a few wide corners before coming to a stop behind an old escalator, motioning for you to take cover. You crouched to peer around the other side, pulling your bag strap tighter over your shoulder. You were met with a sight that made your lips part in wonder.

Made up in the center of the mall's large atrium, directly beneath where the glass dome had been broken out, a small encampment of people had established what looked like a tiny town. Tents rested just inside nearby shop windows and winking Christmas lights had been strung above their heads. Lanterns cast shadows along the faces of the camp's locals as they milled back and forth, sharing dinners, reading from books - and dancing. Booming from a solar-powered stereo was a symphony of fiddles and guitars, harmonies of trumpets and clapping in time with the beat. A woman's tinny voice came through the speakers and she reminisced about an old lover who had gotten away. As you watched the people dance and stamp their feet along with the music, you found yourself drumming your fingers along, as well.

You were so engrossed in the music that you nearly missed what Cooper had his watchful eye on; the fridge-sized container with several spigots on its sides marked with a large piece of paper that read 'Clean Water.'

You and Cooper ducked back behind the escalator.

"Bunch of fuckin' idiots," said Cooper as he pulled a red-capped round from his bandolier and loaded it into his gun's chamber. "That shit'll attract every goddamn raider and feral within the mile."

"They're just having fun," you said, unsure of why you felt so defensive of these people you didn't even know. Maybe it was because they reminded you of your fellow vault dwellers back home. There had been a dance or performance like this nearly every night.

Cooper scoffed. "Fun like this gets you killed, little lady."

Your eyes widened as you watched him pull back the hammer of his firearm. "You're not going to just go up there and start shooting, are you?" You knew for a fact that he would. You'd seen him do it before - draw his pistol and start spinning the trigger because a raider or flock of ferals had what he wanted. But this - this was something different. Before he could do anything more, you reached out and grabbed his upper arm in a grasp so tight your knuckles paled. He flashed you a dark, dangerous look from beneath the brim of his hat, but you refused to let go. "Cooper, these people are innocent. They haven't done anything to us."

"Listen here, dollface, and listen well," he said, quickly spinning you around so that your back was pressed against the escalator. He caged you in, his gun hand still in your grasp and his other arm propped against the wall beside your head. You tried your damndest to not flush when you felt his breath on you, when his hips came just inches from pressing up against yours. "If we're goin' to be carryin' on this little arrangement, you need to learn to keep that pretty mouth of yours shut when I tell you to shut it. Now, I know you vaulties think everyone and their mama is goin' to repay that silly kindness of yours, but do not be mistaken. Keep yappin' and I will drink my fill of that there water while I make you watch, and then I'll tip the rest of it onto the floor. You hear me?"

You were at a loss for words, your tongue dry and your knees beginning to feel wobbly from the lack of water and proper rest. Just when you were about to let your eyes fall back down and accept that he was going to clear out the settlement for their water, footsteps echoed past where the two of you stood. Cooper snapped around and raised his pistol, his other arm still caging you in, and aimed down the barrel at a few young men approaching the rest of the locals beneath the glass dome. Instead of yelling, instead of dropping their belongings and begging for their lives while they pissed their pants in the presence of a ghoul, the men waved and smiled friendly grins.

"No need to hide," one said, gesturing the pair of you toward the others. "Y'all are welcome to come and make yourselves cozy. The more the merrier!"

They continued on, greeted by the other locals with shouts of welcome backs and fond hugs, paying no mind to the wide eyes and parted lips of you and your companion. Breaking away from Cooper's little cage he had created with himself and the wall - as much as it pained you to - you peeked back around the escalator. The young men pointed your way, and a number of people waved in kind and beckoned you forward. You found yourself taking a few steps toward the inviting sight of fresh water and the smell of food being cooked over one of the fires when Cooper snagged you by the back of your suit's collar and pulled you back into cover.

"Where on this good green earth you think you're goin'?" he said in a hushed tone, bringing your face close to his with a commanding grip on your jaw. Another flutter of excitement, of blood rush, bubbled to life in the pit of your stomach and began to travel south, but you suppressed the urge to lean into his touch. You didn't pull away, either.

"They invited us," you said, your eyes wandering back over to the light flickering from the lanterns and fires. "It's rude to turn down an invitation."

Cooper harrumphed and released you a little harsher than necessary. "What you've got is a one-way ticket to bein' on tomorrow's menu, sweetheart," he said, tilting his head to follow your gaze and keep eye contact when you looked away. "If you've about had your fill of the real world up here topside, then be my guest. Go and let'em fatten you up. I'll pour one out for 'ya tonight."

Deciding not to wonder if he would actually pour one out for you, if you really meant that much, you scoffed and shook your head. "You know it's okay to let your guard down every once in a while. Smile, maybe? Wave back? No wonder you're so damn bitter, old man."

Cooper stared down at you, and you wondered briefly if he was considering slamming your head into the side of the escalator. Would he drag you away with him, you thought? Or would he leave you for the strangers just around the corner. After what seemed an eternity, he hummed a short little note and nodded his head toward the camp. "You want to play friends, little lady? Go ahead. See how far that gets you before I've got to turn around and put one between the eyes of a man who's not lookin' just for the sake of lookin'."

With the faintest hint of a smile, you blinked up at him. "You'd turn around for me?" you asked in a murmur.

He matched your heated gaze, dark eyes intense and flaring a torch in your belly. "I suppose you'll just have to find out one of these days."

Swallowing thick, you took a breath, then turned and led him toward the little encampment of people. Heads turned as the pair of you approached, and you found that most of them smiled. You waved to those who offered little shakes of their hands, trailed by a ghoul stalking in his own shadow and resting the crook of his palm on his pistol. You were met by a kind-faced woman near the large tank of water, and she was forced to speak loudly to be heard over the sound of the thumping music.

"You folks just get in?" she said, already fixing two bowls of stew from a large pot simmering over a fire.

You broke yourself from the staring match you were having with the pot, the same one Cooper was still stuck in. Although, he may have been watching the chickens that roamed inside a little pen nearby as he licked his lips. "Yes, ma'am," you said over the trill of the woman's singing. You so desperately wished you knew the words so you could sing along. "I hope we're not imposing."

"Not at all!" A bowl of stew was pushed into your hands, and you forced yourself to be polite and not spoon it down your throat immediately. At your side, your companion gave the rim of the bowl a lick with the tip of his tongue before tipping it to slurp up. "We pride ourselves in being an open community. We might be small, but that just means there's more to share." The tin cups of water she handed over didn't last but five seconds before she was refilling them. "Make yourselves comfortable and stay however long you like. All we ask is that you keep your weapons holstered and don't disturb the music."

You and Cooper took seats at a dining table that had been dragged over from the cafeteria, neither of you speaking much as you both wolfed down what was in the bowls in front of you. Both of your spoons went untouched, each electing instead to drink up the strangely-colored meat floating around inside. Cooper finished much faster than you, and shucked off his gloves so that he could dip his scarred finger in to collect what juices were left. When he was finished, the bowl looked as though it hadn't even been used.

Watching him with a small smile, you let up from your own bowl and said, "I'm waiting."

"For what, exactly, little lady?"

"Your apology." You lapped up the rest of your stew before politely setting your bowl inside of his. "You wanted to -" You hesitated and glanced over your shoulder to make sure no one was too close to hear you. "You know." Then you settled a rather self-satisfied smirk over your features. "And look where we are now. So I'd like my apology now."

Cooper sucked on his finger, ensuring he was getting every last morsel of the stew that he could, and your attention was pulled down to where his lips wrapped around his digit. A part of you began to imagine it was yours. He noticed you staring and grinned wide. "And you know what I'm waitin' for, darlin'?"

"What?"

"For you to walk yourself over there and get me seconds."

You rolled your eyes, but nevertheless grabbed your stacked bowls and began to make your way over to where the woman was tending to the pot. "You'd better be thinking about your apology," you called over your shoulder. When you turned back around you nearly collided into someone retreating back to their spot with their own dinner. You jerked to the side, attempting to get out of their way first, and in doing so rammed yourself into the stereo set on a table in the center of the little camp. You watched in horror, bowls clasped to your chest, as the stereo tumbled over the edge of its pedestal and fell to the floor, where it shattered into what must have been hundreds of pieces. The camp became shrouded in a tense, shocked silence as every eye in the mall turned to face you and look upon your sin.

"I..." Your voice carried through the atrium and down the corridors of the shopping mall, sounding like an isolated cry for help. "I'm so sorry. I - I didn't mean to, I really didn't. Here, I might be able to fix it." You bent down to try and gather the pieces with your free hand, and the moment you did, a number of the camp locals drew weapons to aim in your direction.

"Now," came that familiar drawl behind you as you heard a hammer lock into place. "Are we really goin' to be killin' each other over some silly radio?" asked Cooper, and you felt some of your nerves ease slightly when you felt his chest press against your back.

A man to your right hissed. "You killed him!"

You shook your head viciously. "No, no! I - I didn't kill anyone. I'm sorry, I really am."

"You killed Sterry!" a woman accused.

"Sterry?" You looked down at the broken stereo and began to scoop up the bigger pieces you could find. "I - I can fix Sterry, I swear -"

"There's no fixing Sterry," moaned the woman who had served you stew as she sunk into the closest bench, looking as though she were about to faint. "He's dead. And you've killed us all."

You glanced back at Cooper, who wielded both his pistols now, each pointed in a different direction toward locals who had drawn their weapons. He offered a shrouded look that screamed, 'Now, didn't I tell you so, sweetheart?' You took a shuddering breath and faced the woman who had served you. "What do you mean?" you asked.

The woman placed her head in her hand as if she'd already accepted her fate. It was a daunting sight, the face of a woman so cheery and joyful such a short time ago, now deflated as though someone had let out all her air. "This place," she said, gesturing vaguely to the mall around you. "It's infested." The word was so heavy you felt as though you nearly choked on it. "Infested with creatures that will tear us limb from limb now that you've ruined everything. The music! The music was what kept them away, and now that it's gone..."

As if on cue, from the darkness of one of the long-winding corridors straight ahead, there came the bone-rattling sound of a feral hissing and snapping its weathered jaw. A few of the locals scrambled back as the creature emerged from the inky blackness, arms twisted and eyes sunken so far back into its skull they looked like they were forever pointed toward the sky. It took a rushed few steps forward before Cooper's arm rotated and he put a hole between its eyes. The feral dropped to the floor, leaking dark blood that stained the tile floor.

"Stop being so dramatic, Uma," said an older gentleman who stooped at your feet to begin gathering the pieces of Sterry. You immediately dropped to your knees to help. "We've fixed Sterry before, and we'll fix him again. It won't take long. But while we do, we'll need something to drive those creatures off..."

Your stomach dropped when, as you stood to hand over the pieces of the stereo, you felt Cooper's hands - still fitted with his pistols - rest heavily on your shoulders. "Well, then, y'all folks are in luck," he drawled, and you could practically hear the smirk playing his lips as he spoke. "I've got my very own songbird right here. I'd be happy to lend her to 'ya if, say... you filled our flasks from that there tank when the time comes for us to leave."

"Cooper," you hissed through your teeth as you spun around to face him. Singing for your vault was one thing, but singing for a bunch of strangers in the middle of an infested mall while ferals stumbled from the darkness all around you? He may as well have tossed you back out into the wastes. "You are not going to fucking trade me -"

"Done," said the old man as he sat down and began to sort Sterry's pieces. "Have your girl start singing - anything her heart desires. Just long enough for me to fix old Sterry here."

Giving the man a mock salute that didn't quite raise to his brow, Cooper shoved you onto a bench so that you stood over the rest of the camp. From this angle, they were all able to see your petrified expression and your hands shaking at your sides. "You heard the man," your companion said and smacked the back of your knee. "Get to it, songbird."

"Cooper, I can't -"

Before you were able to finish, Cooper turned, his ears pricking at something yours did not pick up, and dropped another feral that had been silently stalking the camp from the other side. A few of the locals yelped in terror, fleeing into shopfronts and tents.

"Sing for me, sweetheart," Cooper said. He sent you a wink, tipped his hat, then unleashed another round of lead into the darkness which only his eyes could penetrate.

You felt as if you were going to vomit. Sweat began to form on the back of your neck as you fisted your hands and swayed slightly where you stood on the bench. Turning your head, you met the eyes of a few camp locals watching you from their hideouts, their expressions filled with fear, anger, anticipation. They were waiting. Expecting. Needing. Attempting to push down the swelling that was beginning to form in your throat, you looked down at Cooper as he emptied his pistols of empty shells before reloading in order to fend off the ferals attacking the camp - the very camp he'd wanted to take out not half an hour ago.

He'd told you to sing for him. So you'd sing. For him, and only him.

Clearing your mouth and opening your lips, you took a breath and forced yourself to sing. "Death will come from where the earth meets the sky." Your voice wobbled slightly, rusty from having not singing since you left your vault. That, along with the fear and dehydration sitting on your tongue. "The sand is scorched beneath his step, the future decided by his eye." As you sang, the miniature explosions banging from the barrels of Cooper's pistols created a short, quick beat you unconsciously began to tap your foot along to. "He'll come for you all in the end, you'll never be free... he'll come for you all, but never for me."

Ferals shrieked in response to the gunfire, to the song torn right from your notebook in your pack, and one by one, like stage performers who had practiced this dance a hundred times, they dropped at the feet of the camp.

"Death's got a girl who croons his songs, which is why he never stays for long. He's got to run back to his lady, just as harsh as he, he's coming for you, but he's running back to me." As you sang you realized your voice was getting louder, louder, swelling until it filled the mall's atrium and every corridor far beyond. You tapped your heel along with the rhythm you'd created, closing your eyes and imagining an audience of one; a ghoul with his arms slung out across the chairs beside him and a knowing smirk playing his thin lips. It pulled you forward, pulled forth a song you hadn't realized was already in you. "He might sound mean, but I swear, he's kind. He's just got to peer into these eyes of mine. I'll ride with him, and he'll follow me, leaving behind a trail of blood far as the eye can see. Oh, my baby's got teeth to bite and a gun to blow, see his smoke and soon you'll know. Death ain't my man, he's my right hand. He'll come for you all in the end, you'll never be free... he'll come for you all, but never for me."

You had just been nearing a second verse when, from where it rested before the old man on the table, the stereo jumped back to life and filled the atrium with thrumming, pulsing folk music. It drowned out your voice, silenced you like a gunshot, and the ferals teetering on the edge of the darkness leading to the rest of the mall stumbled back into their hiding places. The camp locals slowly emerged from their hiding places, chattering excitedly about Sterry and his newfound love of life. Feeling a little stupid still standing on the bench, you climbed down and shuffled away toward where you had been originally sitting.

Taking a seat, you rested your forehead on your arms and exhaled a shaky breath. What had you been thinking? Singing a song for the man you'd become hopelessly fascinated with while he was just a few feet away, battling ferals who were intent on tearing out your throat and taking your voice with it? You were such a fucking idiot. You wouldn't be surprised if he told you to never open your mouth again.

Just as promised, your flasks were filled to the brims with fresh water before you went on your way, leaving the mall atrium and the singing, dancing camp locals behind as you picked your way back outside. Neither you nor Cooper said much as you continued your trek to nowhere, leaving a pair of footprints like echoes in your wake. Your cheeks remained flushed long after the mall had disappeared into the horizon, and long after you picked out an abandoned building to set up camp for the night. For once, it wasn't from the heat.

You sat across the lantern and what light it cast from Cooper, who stared into the little beacon as if he were watching the most fascinating flick within its glass. You held your notebook in your lap, thumb marking your place as your tried to write, but nothing would come to mind save for the things you'd sung about today. Mortification stirred like a serpent in your belly, and you briefly considered excusing yourself to get up and throw up outside.

"Let me see that book you've got there."

Your head lifted at Cooper's request - more of a demand - and unconsciously tightened your grip around your notebook. Your notebook - full of songs, melodies, lyrics. The most recent half of which you had written about the ghoul staring at you. "This?" you said, your trembling voice giving way to your nerves. You forced out a chuckle and smacked it shut. "It's nothing worth looking at."

"Why not?" he said, voice rasping lower than the baritone he usually held it at. You swore his gaze was hotter than the sun during the day and the fires at night. "You got more songs 'bout little old me in there?"

Fuck, he knew. Fuck all, he knew. You felt your flush deepen as you pointedly tucked your notebook into the bottom of your pack and flipped the top shut. "I... I don't know what you're talking about," you said, avoiding his eyes. Instead you focused on the fraying tip of your boot. "I wrote that a long time ago. Back in my vault."

"Uh huh." Cooper stared you down for so long you thought that perhaps time had frozen. Then he took a barely-there breath. "Come over here, songbird. Let me get a good look at you."

For a long, long moment, you remained still as you ever had been. What was he saying? Normally the only time he let you close to him was when he invaded your personal space to deliver a shove or to smack your knee or thigh to tell you to get a move on. Your breath hitched when you finally lifted your head and found his gaze boring into yours, heavier than a ton and white hot like a branding iron.

"I ain't goin' to tell you again, pretty girl."

As if he had you on a fucking leash - because you swore he did - you found yourself pitching forward, crawling on your hands and knees toward him. He spread his legs slightly, enough to give you room to fit between them, and hesitantly, so very carefully, you rested yourself against his front. His rough, scarred hands, free of his gloves, came up to rest on the swell of your hips as if they were made to be there, fitting like puzzle pieces against your skin beneath your vault suit. You stared up at him, backlit by the lantern light, and let his thumb drag down your bottom lip until it slipped from his touch.

"Didn't think my songbird had such desire in her," Cooper chuckled, his warm breath fanning across your face.

You relished in the goosebumps that crawled over the planes of your skin. "I... I don't..."

"Oh, you'd be dead wrong if you said that little ditty you sang today wasn't all about desire." He settled back deeper where he sat, giving you more room to settle against him between the columns of his thighs. Your lower belly rested against his crotch, where you felt the hard outline of his cock straining against his trousers. Your heart skipped a beat or three. "If you wanted to ride with death, sweetheart, all you needed to do was ask."

Cooper sealed his lips to yours without word or warning, pulling a surprised little noise from the back of your throat that he swallowed up with fervor. As the initial shock faded, you found your eyes slipping shut and your mouth moving against his, lips opening without fight when his tongue demanded to explore your own. Bracing yourself with one hand against his thigh, you reached up with your other and cradled the back of his head, knocking off his hat in the process.

Swift to get a move on, to feel you against him and swallow up more of your sounds, Cooper easily flipped you around so that you were now lying flat on your back and he was hovering over your prone form. Both tingling excitement and nauseating nerves pulled groans from your lips as he moved to pressing harsh kisses and nips to the column of your neck, licking up red spots that would surely bruise come morning time. He shucked off his duster and abandoned it somewhere behind him, at the same time, by some skill you had no idea anyone possessed, also grasping at the zipper of your vault suit to pull it down as far as it would go.

It didn't take long for you to shimmy out of the suit, leaving you in just your underwear, the seams of which he traced with his calloused finger. It sent a chill running up your spine despite the heat prodding at your skin.

"My songbird sounds real pretty when she's singin'," Cooper muttered as he sucked a bruise into the swell of one breast over the cup of your bra. "I bet she sounds even better screamin' for me."

His hand plunged beneath the waistband of your panties and began to explore your folds, pulling a long, whining moan from your lips. He ate you and your whimpers up, devouring your lips like he wanted to eat you whole - maybe he did - while his middle finger ran up and down your cunt a few times before deftly finding your clit and applying a bit of pressure to the sensitive bud. You cried out. It had been far too long since you'd seen any real action. It didn't take long before your folds were soaked, and he was able to gingerly nudge his finger past the entrance of your pussy. It felt foreign to have another person thrusting their finger in and out of you, building you up to a kind of high you hadn't known since far before you left your vault. In less than a few minutes - something he would surely tease you about later - you felt that familiar coil snap in your stomach and you soaked his hand with a loud, throat-rattling wail that escaped your lips and flew right past his.

Cooper pulled back with a self-satisfied smirk and pulled his hand from your panties, lifting his spread hand to show you to slick you'd coated his digits with. You were only able to huff for breath and watch with hooded eyes as he brought his fingers to his mouth and used his skillful tongue to lick off your cum. You briefly wondered what else that tongue of his could do, what it would feel like to have him lap up your pussy like it was the only thing to guarantee him his daily hit of medicine.

"Sweet as honey, baby," he cooed, bracing himself with one hand while the other worked on the buckle of his belt. "Well. Maybe Tennessee honey. You ever had a taste of that?" He knew you hadn't. But that didn't stop his smirk from growing in size when you numbly shook your head. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, baby. We'll get you a lick one day. 'Til then..."

Your limbs dancing with pins and needles, you lifted your hips to help him tug off your panties. "I'll just have to settle for what I've got," you exhaled with a hazy smile.

Cooper grinned wide, a smile that bordered on the edge of dark, as he tugged down his trousers just enough for his cock to spring free. He was thick - larger than you'd expected - and his member was rough and scarred like the rest of him. It made you want to feel him all the more. "I'll promise you somethin', darlin," he said as he positioned himself at your entrance and you locked your legs around his waist, heels digging into the edge of his gun belt. "I'm better than anything else you'll taste these days." With that he slid into you, filling you at once to the brim like he just couldn't wait to feel you from the inside. A loud, sharp yelp escaped your lips as your back arched instinctively, curling yourself up into him. He only waited a few moments for you to adjust before he started moving, pulling himself out to the tip before thrusting back inside your welcoming cunt. You were able to feel each and every ridge of him, every scar, and you swore you were getting drunk from just the feeling.

"Fuckin' shit, girl," he groaned, moving to press the flat of his hand to the base of your neck so that he could keep you in place while he fucked you. "Better than I could've fuckin' dreamed."

Cooper's thrusts began to increase in speed, your moans and whimpers accompanied by his low, almost growling snarls he panted against the shell of your ear. You couldn't believe this was happening. You were being fucked by the ghoul you'd been following all these months, the ghoul you'd been watching and studying and falling hopelessly for. And it felt good. It felt so fucking good, a part of you wasn't entirely convinced this entire scenario wasn't a dream concocted by the recesses of your mind.

"God, Coop," you heard yourself moan as your nails dug crescent moons into the fabric of his shirt. "Feels so fucking good..."

"Atta girl," he muttered, moving his head down so that he could suck at the junction where your neck met your shoulder. "Such a sweet little songbird." His grip on your hips tightened as his movements increased even further. "Might just have to fuck you good every night so I can hear you sing for me."

You panted deep as you felt your second orgasm of the night approaching at an alarming rate. Your hips bucked up to meet his with each thrust, the sound of skin on skin filling the abandoned building in which you had taken shelter. "Don't have to - ah! - even ask. I'll sing for you any time, Coop."

Cooper's breaths came shorter, sharper, and it wasn't long before he came with a harsh bite against your shoulder, one that spilled blood into his awaiting mouth and pulled your own orgasm from deep within your depths. You shuddered and cried for him, tugging him close and holding him there for several minutes after your highs had faded and your breaths evened.

Finally, he pulled himself off of you. A short whine escaped you when he slipped from your heat, and he chuckled low before tossing you your panties to slip back on. When you were both covered again, you sat up and crossed your legs as you basked in the afterglow of what had just taken place. Cooper dug around in his saddlebag for a moment before producing his inhaler and drinking up a shot of his medicine, shaking his head against the sudden buzz that came with it as he sat back on his elbows and stared at the lantern light.

"I..." You struggled to find the words so desperately clawing at your chest. "I hope you don't..."

Cooper reached up and pulled your wrist out from under you, causing you to fall back on the ground beside him with an 'umph.' He let his arm cushion your fall before sweeping a few strands of hair from your face and giving you that crooked smirk which made your legs fall numb all over again. "Oh, don't you worry yourself, songbird," he said. "I ain't lettin' you fly away from me any time soon."

#fallout #fallout show #fallout amazon #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #the ghoul smut #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard smut #fallout imagines #fallout one shot #fallout smut #the ghoul x y/n #cooper howard x y/n

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ladybirdswritings · 15 days

Text

Pretty Thing - Cooper Howard (Ghoul) x Reader

Summary: You're a shiny, pretty prize worth more caps than can be counted on ten hands altogether. There's something special about you, and the Ghoul is determined to figure out just what it is.

Notes: Guys I am actually so invested in this fic it’s criminal but anyways lmk if u love this and I'll write more (feel free to leave me lots of comments and interactions, they motivate me!!)

last chap | A03 | masterlist

part 4

The scorching sun was a thing of your wild imagination. A figment, a flash. So familiar, yet so far away in that ocean above you. That dull, gray ocean.

There were ropes round your wrists, and you felt like every bit the mutt as the wide-brim hat before you walked you in any direction he pleased.

Thing was, it had been days.

Days since your last meal. A can of soured peaches and a bitter clementine. No water, no sustenance.

So, this scorching diamond above you that you’d never seen but you somehow understood, it was burning at your flesh. Enough so that within an hour’s time, you’d be about as red and mangled as the Ghoul.

Your breaths were heavy and labored, your steps more like jagged stomps into the sandy dunes. You were still dressed in your ratty hospital gown and your feet were bare. You felt disgusting.

Your hair was matted in knots, your feet covered in dirt and grime, your body blanketed by a soft sheen of sweat making you glisten like a diamond in the rough.

You stumbled, pins and needles itching at your sight for a long moment. The cowboy halted so sudden you were two steps away from colliding with his coated back. You didn’t though.

He turned his head to the side, regarding you in his peripheral with a glare that silently declared: “walk straight, or I’m gon’ make ya’…”

You glared back at him in turn, and abruptly— he pulled on his makeshift leash and kept walking. The sandy dunes burned at the bottoms of your feet, scorching them entirely. You’d passed four signs now that promised life, and yet there was none to be found.

Your gaze fell to the happy shepherd braving the dunes behind the cowboy, tale wagging and tongue hung out her mouth as she panted. She had no leash. The thought? It angered you. You halted, digging the soles of your feet into the sand so to keep yourself still and put. When his tug did no good, his jaw ticked and he slowly turned round. Swiping his tongue over his golden teeth, expectant.

“This is some even exchange.” You practically spat. “The girl gets walked and the mutt roams freely. What exactly are you teaching me?”

His gaze stalled for a moment, as if assessing how to approach you. It took a moment too long but soon enough, it narrowed into a glare. A cold, challenging glare. Your own eyes, they begged to falter, to fall, to be coward enough to lose this challenge and yet? You were in too deep.

One slow step, then another. Heavy boots nearing closer, closer. You would have stumbled back if your feet weren’t so pressed into the ground. Buried there, keeping you still as a stick in the wind. He halted before you, boots stepping on the layer of sand above your feet, looking down at you and shadowing your eyes from the scorching sun with his hat.

“You oughta mind that dirty mouth o’ yours… n’ to answer your question— s' a dog-eat-dog world, sweetie...”

It was your own gaze that narrowed to slits now, tilting your chin up to hold his eyes.

“I’m not a fucking dog.”

A small, soft laugh at that— eyes wandering to the place beside you to gather his vicious thoughts. He sucked at his teeth, tilting his head slow at you.

“Y’ thirsty?”

… what?

Your tired eyes softened, a widening so gentle and subtle it could almost be missed. But you were— god you truly were beyond parched. The thought of even a singular droplet on your sandpaper tongue and you’d melt.

“Mm, yes you are.” He mused, eyes never once leaving you. Even as his hands dug deep within his coat to pull out a dilapidated, circular flask filled to the brim with fresh, sweet water. You gulped, eyes wide with anticipation now.

You patient, sweet thing— gaze shifting from patience to confusion as he unscrewed the cap and drank every single last drop right before you. A frown settled on your soft lips once he finished with a satisfied “ahh” and tossed the useless thing to the side so to further prove his point.

“Wh—”

“Oh m’ sorry, pretty thing. Did you want some uh’ that? Tsk tsk, gotta open that dry mouth o’ yours next time. Tell you what, I might have some more.”

You blinked, throat feeling as sandy as the dunes your feet were buried within. His mangled hand travelled upwards, settling on a firm grip to your cheeks. You didn’t have much time to react, no. He squeezed them tight— muttering “open.” You had no choice, and as soon as those lips of yours were parted? The Ghoul gathered all the saliva packed within that golden mouth of his and spit it right upon your pink little tongue.

Your eyes became saucers, so surprised by his most degrading, cruel actions that you stumbled and fell to your bum.

“Where you think you’re goin’ hmm? Up… you ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

His saliva settled into your own, mixing with it— familiarizing with it. A foreign, unpleasant thing.

His grip on your shoulders was firm, and despite his cold gaze— there was droplets of expectation sprinkled like silver stars in his midnight eyes. What he was waiting for, whatever it was, it never came.

The Ghoul tugged you back up on to your feet, and his hands held you tight enough to bruise your skin.

All of it, all at once, it settled. The cage, the sun, the sand, the ropes, the dirt upon your feet, the knots within your hair— the spit within your mouth… tears prickled at your pretty eyes too quickly to stop, making them glossy and blurred. Your jaw tense.

“Wipe those god damn tears and get to fuckin’ steppin’… else I’m gon’ drag you in all the shit you’re standin’ on.”

Your lips swelled pink like posies and trembled at his words as all the breath you had left departed you. He didn’t much care, turning and tugging harshly again so you had no choice but to step.

It would be inaccurate to say he was treating you like an animal, because the shepherd was happily trotting along. No ropes keeping her, no cruel words.

Yet you?

Another sign slid past your peripheral. Wherever he was dragging you? You only hoped it was close…

•••

If there was a God, you were whispering your praises to him now as sand turned to emerald blades— and emerald blades turned to creaky, dilapidated cherry oak.

A lake. A crystal lake that mirrored the dreary sky in its reflection. Water, so much of it you could just melt.

The cowboy regarded you with pointed eyes as he slowly unraveled his ropes. Each circle falling to the ground made you sigh in relief, immediately stumbling forward toward the lake. An endless supply of all the water you desired.

You were just about ready to fall to your knees in defeat when a firm hand reached out and gripped at your matted locks. Halting you.

“Settle down, sweetheart. See, that water right there s’ poison. Less you wanna look like me, I suggest you follow orders.”

You slowly turned your glare toward him as he stepped around you and tugged you after him by your locks. Brutish. His boots were heavy stomps against the creaking deck, and they matched the pitter patter of the shepherd’s paws.

“Here.” He spat, pushing you down to the deck with a firm hand. Your eyes shifted to a makeshift bowl filled to the brim with rainwater so ancient, it made him look like a spring chicken.

You felt every bit the mutt he was treating you like as you turned your head to face him, on your hands and knees.

He tilted his head once more as if challenging you to complain. You considered, but your thirst was far too fervent to let you. You cautiously dipped your head, cupping the water in one purpled hand and sucking from it. Christ… you moaned. It was unpleasant, hot by the sun and dirty yet— it was water.

“There you go, now you’re gettin’ it.” The Ghoul mused in approval.

You were desperately lapping every last, soiled drop up. Every last drop till you heard even more feverish lapping from beside you. You halted, gaze shifting to see the shepherd happily drinking up the lake water with a wagging tail.

The clean, pristine lake water.

You waited. Watching the poor, doomed thing. Any minute now and she’d fall to the deck, foaming at the mouth as the poison plagued her. She licked at her lips when she was satisfied.

A minute passed, then another…

The lake water was settled in her stomach…

…and she was completely— fine.

Unharmed.

Immediately, your expression shifted to one of disgust, frustration, defeat? No…

Anger.

More solidified anger when the bastard in the cowboy hat and boots began to snicker.

“You made me drink this on purpose.” You forced through clenched teeth, so angry now you couldn’t even meet his eyes.

Pins and needles prickled at your fingertips, they lay dormant there.

“N’ what f’ I did, huh?” He challenged, shifting so to squat before you and catch your sight again. Your cold, furious sight. “What you gon’ do bout it, pretty thing?”

Oh you got it now. You got it completely.

He liked this. He liked torturing you and it took only one day spent together for you to understand that entirely. His speech about even exchanges and teaching you, it was sour in your mind now. In that hazy, clouded mind of yours.

You thought of all the words you could spit at that mangled, hideous face of his and yet? None of them seemed to surface. He knew you were weak, he knew he had the upper hand. He was using that.

Just like your keepers.

The thought, it made the pins and needles more prominent. More unpredictable. Burning at your hands ready to burn at another and yet?

The only thing you could do was gather the spit in your mouth and project it right onto the Ghoul’s cratered cheek.

He didn’t do so much as flinch, closing his eyes for a moment and sucking a deep breath through the place where a nose once settled. He was silent, but the jump in his jaw gave him away.

You did it now.

You truly, pissed him off.

Not another moment passed before his eyes shot open again. Darker now. Too dark. The Ghoul was quick, hand burying itself in your knotted locks again as he dragged you against the wood— leaving splinters and cuts in your soft skin.

“Now you’re gon’ learn, smooth skin.” He spat.

You were weak, but you kicked away and tried to steel yourself with something. You weren’t in the dunes any longer, so the only thing to be buried was you.

“Wait— wait!” You cried out, breaths quickening now as he pulled you up by your frayed locks. Your fear-stricken gaze looked on at the reflection of the lake water. He was a looming shadow, and no part of his expression offered you ease.

Your mind wandered back to the flashes tucked within it. When he circled your cage and pushed the hair from your face. The shadow before you now, he was every bit what you would expect another creature who got their clutches on you to be like. He was no different, despite what you had conditioned yourself to believe.

Maybe he was worse…

Your breath was interrupted by the plunge, into the lake head first— his hand keeping you under. One hand gripping at the hair before your neck, the other clutching at your bound wrists.

You struggled, your mind a cloudy sky as water invaded your throat and lungs.

He was drowning you.

He picked your head up at once, so abrupt. You were robbed of the chance to suck in precious air as you could only cough up the water lodged within your throat. None of it was poison, all of it was demise.

You wondered for a moment if he was showing you mercy— but soon realized he had only lifted you to plant cruelty in your mind. Perhaps so it would be the last thing you’d hear.

“Some weapon you are. Look at ya’, useless lil’ thing— you gon’ be dead n’ a god damn second. Ain’t got no use for ya’.” He spat, golden teeth pressed against your ear.

“Please—” you gurgled, and he only growled as he slammed your head back into the lake.

Your mind became a haze, feet kicking and body flopping about like a fish deprived of its ocean. If it couldn’t get more sour for you, your eyes widened to find a large, scaly creature slowly swimming toward you. A very large, very scaly creature.

This was how you’d die.

That thought, it settled then.

All this survival— all this uncontrollable chaos. Your body a temple so strong and still, it forced you to survive— and your demise would be caused by a lake and a golden-toothed cowboy?

You cried out, watching as the eight-finned creature slithered closer and closer.

Closer…

Closer….

Some people claim that anger is the strongest emotion. Some people claim it to be love. For you? Fear. Cold, paralyzing fear.

Perhaps you were a mutt. One backed into a corner so doomed that you had no choice but to bite the hand keeping you under the water.

You didn’t intend to do it, no— you never did. It just happened; and it was a thing your keepers were trying to figure out before you were taken from them.

Yet the pins and needles grew to nails and knives, clutching at your slashed palms and supple skin. A crimson so scarlet and deep, the blood within you was boiled, it ignited you. Like a moth set ablaze.

The creature in the water halted, and the creature above the water’s grip on your neck loosened. Yet it was far too late to take it back now. They had hold of you.

You could taste the poison in the lake. He wasn’t a liar after all.

Radiation.

Thing was, for you, radiation was about as poisonous as whipped, cherry pie. No… radiation was fuel.

That fuel was settled deep within your lungs now. That fuel was flooded in your nostrils and throat. That fuel was chaotic, unpredictable and deadly; and it was driving now.

With a scream of pure agony as the inferno begun to melt you, all the radiation within the lake anchored you down and like a can of shaken pop? You burst.

“Shit…” The Ghoul muttered, releasing the nuclear bomb before him and trying to stumble back. Wasn’t far enough…

The lake erupted, water shooting so high up into the sky it could reach the clouds. The reflection was now crimson, the same crimson that shadowed you and burned away at anything in sight.

The Ghoul was a strong, ancient thing— yet even he could not withstand the powers clutching you hostage. His body was flown back by the very graze of them— back slamming into a wooden post hard enough to crack it in two.

Your scream, muffled by the water, it faltered to a cry of agony. Pain, pure and unforgiving as you lifted your head from the lake and slumped over against the deck.

Blood dripped from your nose, staining the cherry wood beneath you. Your coughs were weak yet vicious, vicious enough to burn at your ribs enough to make you curl.

Exhausted.

The water from the sky rained back down to the lake after stalling, a barbaric storm settling into the once calm waters.

The Ghoul coughed, his next breath a wheeze as that cold gaze of his wandered to the fizzing bubbles above the water. Sluggishly, the husk of a creature so powerful it was the exact reason why nobody roamed these parts, it floated to the surface and turned by force of the settling waves. Its eyes gray, its ungodly tongue hung from its snarling mouth.

Dead.

Every minnow and small, poor fish followed— bellies bloated as they surfaced.

Entirely… dead.

The Ghoul halted for a second at the thought, breath catching in his throat. If he wasn’t so smart, if he hadn’t let go— that would have been him. A dead fish in the water.

Yet still, the mad man, he was satisfied.

As he said to himself— as he ensured; he poked at the bear enough and finally? The bear showed him just what it was worth.

“There you are… you lil’ killa…” he murmured slow, eyes settled on your shivering figure now with victory and— awe.

Not horror, not disgust… no.

Simply?

Awe…

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