#the ghoul fallout

[rebelliousstories]

My Baby Shot Me Down

Relationship: Cooper Howard x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Age Gap

Word Count: 1,163

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Part Two of: Ex Lover’s Lover

Summary: After a stint on set, Cooper has to call into question whether or not being a relationship is beneficial for her.

“What is he doing here?” Walking onto the set of the newest western film, that was not what she had expected to hear as Cooper was by her side. Looking over at the side of the set, she noticed that there were two women right next to one another.

“Why else? That’s his sugar baby. Don’t know if I even want to be in a film with a man selling the end of the world.” She tried to tune the two women out, and focus on their director, but it was difficult. Of course not everyone was going to happy with his previous gigs, but a check was a check at the end of the day. Cooper was trying to do better now that he was divorced and moving on with his life.

“Darlin’, you listening?” Howard shook the women slightly, which brought her back to the present.

“Yes, sorry. A bit distracted today. My apologies.” She said with a bashful look on her face as she was caught slipping away mentally.

“All good,” the director reassured, “well, if we have no questions, shall we get started?”

And with that, the film was underway. There was a lot of fun on that set for her; being able to act alongside her lover was always a joy. But there was one dark cloud that hung over them. The two women from earlier. They were playing the local ladies of the night in the film, which she found laughable given her current stance on them. Every so often, when they thought they could get away with it, their snide comments slipped through.

“You’re way too young for him.” One of them whispered, sliding a tray of fake drinks over to her to “serve.” She knew that the dialogue would not be heard in the final film, but that did not mean that she did not hear it in the moment.

“You’re just a trophy to him.” Another snide comment as one of the woman passed in front of her on the corner of the little town the had created.

“He deserves someone better.” Yet another chink in her armor.

“He’ll get bored with you soon.”

“Cut!” The director called. She barely had a chance to react when they walked away. Calling it a day for the set, she could feel the tears of frustration boil up in her, but she refused to let them fall. Shoving them down, she felt the eyes of those women on her as she bid the director and staff goodnight, and walked alone to her trailer.

A frustrated sigh left her body the second the door was shut. She leaned against the door and slid down. The feelings from the day welled up inside of her; all the stress, anxiety, sadness, just everything. As she stood from the floor, tears started falling from her eyes as she moved to the pull out couch on the opposite wall. She was thankful that she had the forethought to change from her costume before coming back to her trailer all together.

Suddenly, there came a knock at the door, which prompted the woman to stand back up. All she wanted right now was a good cry and maybe some chocolate covered treats, and to finish her evening with a nice cuddle with her lover; but all that would have to wait. She was pleasantly surprised that when she opened the door Cooper was on the other side. He smiled up at her from the bottom of her trailer steps, but it immediately dropped when he saw the look on her face.

“Oh darlin’. What’s wrong?” Cooper pushed his way inside and shut the door behind him. Scooping her up in his arms, he maneuvered them over to the couch where she had once sat.

“Nothing’s wrong. What makes you say that?” She asked in between sniffles. Her lover, on the other hand, was not looking like he was convinced.

“Now you might do well on the stage and screen, but you can’t act your way out of a wet paper bag when it comes to me. Tell me what’s wrong. It’ll make you feel better.” His hands rubbed soothing circles in her shoulders and back, while his voice remained soft.

“Just something someone said today. It’s nothing, Coop.” Trying to brush it off, she settled herself into his arms. This was just what she needed after today.

“I need to know what was said, honey. Otherwise, it’ll fester in that pretty little head of yours.” He replied, pressing a kiss to said head. With her head in his chest, she shook it, causing Cooper to sigh deeply.

“I’ll use tactics to get the information out of you.” His hand was poised and ready to go over her ribs.

“Don’t you dare.”

“Tell me.”

“No. it’s nothing.”

“Alright. You asked for it.” Before she could move out of the way, his hand had descended upon her stomach and began to tickle her. She giggled at first, and soon it turned into full bore laughter as she tried to squirm away from the offending hand. Howard let up for just a moment while staring down at his lover who was panting slightly.

“Tell me, or it’s round two.” He warned, keeping his hand ready to go.

“It’s just, some of the women on set were saying how I was too young for you. That you’d get bored of me sooner rather than later. I don’t know, it just bothered me to think about all day.” She finally admitted, fiddling with a spot on Cooper’s shirt. His hand dropped, and it, instead, brought her chin up to look at him.

“That’s why you forgot your lines today?” He asked ridiculously. She rolled her eyes at him, yet chose not to answer.

“Baby, you are young for me.” That just felt like a stab to the heart. This was it. This was when he finally got bored of her like everyone said.

“But I love that about you.” Looking up into his eyes, she was surprised to hear that come out from him.

“I don’t care if people see us and think to themselves that you’re in it for the money. I’m not going to get bored of you. You pulled me from my darkest point, sweetheart, and for that I thank you.” The longer he spoke, the more she saw love swell in his eyes.

“Let them talk. They’re just jealous that they ain’t us. We can’t control what other people say about us, but we can control how we react. Don’t worry about them anymore. They aren’t worth it.” Cooper concluded his little speech with a sweet little kiss to his girlfriend’s lips. When he pulled away, he chuckled as he was pulled back down.

“Thank you, Coop. I really needed that.” She said, stroking a hand over his face.

“Anytime, any place darlin’.” He replied, leaning back in for another kiss with his love.

[ladybirdswritings]

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…

[htchnr]

⚡️ATOM BOMB BABY. nav post.

VIVIAN FORD has had a small crush on Cooper Howard for as long as he's been in the film business. hell, it inspired her to join the business herself — her first agent telling her that she could get anywhere with that smile of hers.

SHE MAINLY HAD a very steady modelling career, doing a few acting roles here and there. everyone knew her from household item advertisements and risqué magazines, later on as 'Nuka Girl'.

WHEN SHE GETS OFFERED, nay, pleaded to act in a film called 'Under The Covers' her life changes — meeting a man that will turn her world upside down.

LIFE AFTER THE BOMBS got less hard for Cooper over the years, adapting and improving his skills and knowledge about the changed world.

WHAT WILL NEVER CHANGE is his aching love for the girl he believes is long gone, her gorgeous face haunting him from every billboard he passes by everywhere. the occasional billboard with an advertisement of the two of them haunts him even more — his face usually riddled with bullets. not her face though, he could never bring himself to that.

THOUGH, SOME SELFISH part of him wants her to be out there somewhere. alive and well, unharmed from the old and new world's horrors and his to try and love again.

the story will be written in second person when Vivian's there, but remain in third person with other characters!

postwar chapters will probably mainly focus on Cooper's pov, prewar chapters focusing mainly on Vivian's pov!

chapters will alternate between prewar and postwar!

CHAPTER ONE | act naturally.

CHAPTER TWO | so doggone lonely.

CHAPTER THREE | mad about a boy.

CHAPTER FOUR | i can dream, can't i?

CHAPTER FIVE | orange colored sky.

more to come !

[katykatyykaty]

me and the ghoul vibez

[squishmyster]

What a Difference a Day Makes

Cooper Didn't know what to do when he saw you in pristine conditions after he had spent over two hundred years thinking about how you died. One thing he does know is that he's never letting yo go again. Post war! Cooper Howard/ Ghoul x Reader Warnings~~ Angst, Possessive Ghoul, mentions of death! and grieving, OOC! Ghoul????, pinV Sex, light nipple play?, Ghoul sex

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Ghoul was wandering around the wasteland cowboy hat low over his eyes. He had been walking for more than two hours and decided it was time to find a place to camp for the night. After searching for a little he managed to find a little broken-down house with half of its roof missing and multiple little holes in nicks in the walls of the home. He unholstered his shotgun, made his way inside, and started clearing out the space for Rad Roaches or Mole Rats. Not seeing or hearing anything other than a light snore coming from a small closet in the back of the home.   He made his way towards it gun up and pointed forward, clocking the gun he slowly moved to open the door to the closet, and in one quick motion, he swung the door open and his instincts told him to shoot first and ask questions later which is what he was going to do. His eyes landed on your face and he had felt the air get knocked out of him. lowering the gun all he could do was stare at you. going to sit in a chair on the other side of the room he couldn't help the rush of emotions he felt. Feelings he had pushed deep inside himself at least a hundred years back. The grief of losing you, the pain he felt, the anger, and sadly enough jealousy that you got to peacefully die compared to his ghoulish hell, and then the memories of you too came rushing back into his head but one in particular stuck out the most. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Both of you were in Cooper's apartment and Cooper was above you his hazel eyes looking over your figure under him with a look full of love and adoration. his hand cupping your cheek and his handsome smile out on display for only you to see. In that moment he felt like nothing in the world was wrong, like he could do anything or do nothing at all and it would be perfectly okay with him. If time had stopped in that moment he could have cherished every moment of it. The scent of you, the way your hair framed your face, the matching look of love in your eyes, the softness of your skin under his palm, the way the morning sun painted you to be the most marvelous thing he'd seen in years and what he would do to be back there in that moment is anything under the blistering hot California sun. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake up to the sun on your face shielding your eyes as you get up, you hear someone clear their throat, letting out a shocked sound you whip around and face the stranger. Once your eyes adjust to the light you notice the shotgun idling in his hand. Not knowing what to do you put your hands up not wanting to get shot because that would fuckin suck and it's not what you need or want right now.  Tilting the brim of his cowboy hat just above his eyes he let his lips pull into a sly smirk to cover the pang of hurt he felt in his chest at the shocked and very much worried expression. Tips his head to the side, looks you in the eye, and lets his left hand rest on his thigh while his right is holding his gun in case anything was to pop off. " What don't tell me you don't remember my darling... thought I was more special than that considering I'm your fiancé".  Hearing his words you get a good look at him you see the bright hazel eyes you longed to stare into as you've through the wasteland, hell much longer than that since the moment you woke up in that cryo-chamber and called out his name crying almost begging him to come back to you and when he didn't you felt broken and torn to pieces. Now it feels hard to even mutter his name, voice breaking and tears threatening to fall at the realization he'd been alive all this time. " C-cooper? "  breath hitching as you struggle to get out the words any words shielding your face with your hands you start sobbing the overwhelming emotions hitting you like a freight train. Seeing how distraught you were Cooper couldn't help but let the gun drop to the floor and make his way over to you. Feelings and emotions more over forgotten started making their way up his chest as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest. One hand was placed on the top of your head and the other was rubbing soothing circles into your back. " Now darling why are you crying you should be celebrating". His voice was low with false enthusiasm he was trying to lighten the mood and he knew it was working when he heard the little laugh you let out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a few more minutes of sniffling in his arms, copper had dragged you over to the chair and had you sitting on his lap, arms wrapped around his neck his groin dangerously close to your ass. He had one hand placed on your ass while the other ghosted over the curve of your spine. feeling his hands on you sent shivers down your spine. Not only did you want him, after so long you needed him. The feel of his hands on your skin, his lips all over your body, the feeling of him deep inside you, but most of all you just wanted him even if he wasn't the Cooper you remembered even if you didn't exactly know what he was. Looking into his eyes you see the man that's been in your heart forever. " I've missed you so much coop- I thought you were dead".  and before you could get another word in he was crashing his lips onto yours pulling you into a staggering kiss that had you melting into him. " I missed you too Darlin, much more than I thought was possible" Feeling his teeth lightly nip at your bottom lip you open your mouth and let his tongue slide into your mouth. The kiss was full of desire and longing it conveyed every emotion that couldn't be put into words. the want and need you felt for each other, feeling his going hard on you start to grind your hips against his. Cooper felt a low rumbling moan in his chest and let both of his hands roam over your clothed body. His hands found their way under your shirt moving to take the ripped long-sleeved shirt off you. Feeling his gloved hands on your bare skin sent pleasant shivers through your body and you let out a small moan as you broke the kiss letting him pull the shirt up over your head. the second the loose fabric was out of his hands he was back on you, lips placing sloppy kisses all over your neck, hand fully exploring your body like it was the first time he'd seen it. His kisses started trailing down your neck to the apex of your chest, hands coming up to cup and knead both breasts. Deciding it would be too much work to take your bra off he pulls it down almost ripping the fabric off your body. Tongue leaving hot, wet kisses down your chest before taking one nipple into his mouth letting his tongue swirl over the hardened bud savoring the taste of you and committing it to memory.  You let out a small moan feeling his mouth on you, hands holding onto his shoulders for dear life feeling overwhelmed at all sensations running through you. hearing your moans Cooper can't help but let a small smirk grace his lips and let his teeth graze over your nipple before moving to the other. The only sounds to be heard are your soft moans and the sounds of Cooper devouring you. One of his hands trails down and deftly unhooks the button on your jeans before letting his hand slip into your panties. His fingers find your clit and he lazily strokes the soft bud before picking up the past. Sliding his finger lower through your soaking wet folds, slipping two finger into your sopping wet cunt was all it took for you to let out a loud breathy moan. Cooper quickly ate all the moans you let you with a pleasantly mind-bending kiss. All while his other hand is alternating between pinching and squeezing both breasts. He's praising you for being so wet and ready for him, telling you about how much he's missed you, how you're still the prettiest thing he's seen out here in this god-forsaken wasteland, how badly he wants to fuck you and remind you who you belong too, and how he was never letting you go now that he had you back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cooper had you bent over the chair knees on the seat and hands gripping onto the top of the chair for dear life as he fuck you into next week, his hands gripping at your sides pulling you into him with every harsh thrust of his hips. He had brought his foot up and placed it by you, the angle causing you to moan out at the new position that caused him to brush against your g-spot with every thrust. Cooper couldn't help the low moan that left his lips feeling your tight wet walls clench around his hard cock. " Fuck darlin... just like that-... swear I'll never get tired of this sweet pussy...fuckin perfect" the words coming out as strangled moans and groans. His words made you feel all mushy inside and you start to feel that special heat deep within your belly. Moans mixed with fucks and pleads for him to fuck you harder fill the space for any words you have. Using what strength you do have you use it to try and match the pace of his thrust with some of your own. The sound of skin meeting skin, moaning, heavy breathing, and wet noises fill the space around you both. "Gonna be a good girl n cum for me sweetheart... hmm?". Nodding your head you beg him to let you cum wanting the sweet release only he can give you so bad. " Yes, Cooper!... please- Mmm faster please". Giving you a hefty smack on the ass Cooper begins picking up the pace of his thrust. Chocked moans, stringed along thanks, and curses leave your lips. One hand leaves your hip to grip and trace along your curves and his low, rumbling moans and expletives could be heard even if they were much more reserved than your own. The hand grasping at your curves moves towards the front of your body. Trailing its way down towards the clef of your cunt, once his fingers reach your clit he's rubbing vigorous circles along it. His other hand moves to pull to his chest, his mouth starts its attack on your neck, and the hand that bought you both closer was tweaking with your nipples and kneading both breasts." Go ahead Darlin cum on my cock... take what's rightfully yours ". His thrust never faltered if anything they increased, the sound of skin slapping was defining, and there was nothing you could do but let your orgasm wash over you with an earth-shattering wave. A throaty moan flows out of your mouth, your body is shaking from the orgasm, walls pulsing around his throbbing cock, but also the overstimulation from Cooper's thrust is sending you farther over the edge. He slowed down his thrust but his hips were still moving firmly, his cock brushing against your g-spot with every thrust and he makes sure he was pulling out slowly before slamming back into you holding his orgasm hostage. After a few more languid thrusts he lets out a strangled moan spilling his radiated seed into your gummy walls " Ohhhh- fuck sweetheart look at that pretty fuckin pussy milk my cock". Feeling him cum inside you a soft moan leaves your lips and your body gives out under you as you lay there fucked out of your mind and wholly pleased with the way things turned out. Pulling out Cooper pulls you up wrapping his arms around you before sitting in the seat and pulling you into his embrace. Curling up into his lap you leave a kiss on his cheek before laying your head on his shoulder. After a while of sitting in silence, he notices a far-off look in your eyes "You doin' alright there Darlin"? his voice was the most quiet and gentle thing you've heard since you started wandering the wasteland. " I'm doing great Coop, just thinking about what a difference a day makes... just yesterday I was all alone not knowing if would be my last but here we are... together". He couldn't the way his lips lifted into a smile, his fingers tracing along your jaw. " Yeah.. me too but now we got each other Darlin' and I'm never letting go of you again" Looking up into his eyes filled with love and devotion you give him a warm smile, voice giving away every emotion that swelled in your chest threatening to burst out " I'm counting on it, Cooper ".

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

HEYYYYY HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY NOW I WOULD LIKE TO SAY THIS WAS MY FIRST ATTEMPT AT SMUT AND I WAS LOWKEY STRUGGLING BUT I WASN'T AS HARD IAS I THOUGHT.... let me know what you guys think.. kk ima go now have a good day hotties

DON'T STEAL MY WORK IF YOU REPOST TAG ME!!! thanks.

Thanks for reading from Squish<3

[blades-edge]

False God | Cooper Howard – masterlist

Divorce wasn't kind to Cooper Howard. It's quite the lonely night when he decides to call the "Sweet Nights" number and meet with a lovely lady to take his mind off things. Little did he know that he would never get enough of her taste.

Pairing: Cooper Howard x fem!sex worker!reader

Warnings: Please see individual chapters for more detailed content warnings. Some general themes include: 18+ only, alcohol consumption, smut, sex work, talk of depression, angst

This fic will be cross-posted on AO3 and you can find it here

Chapter 1 (coming soon)

Chapter 2

[anamelessfool]

Outlaw F!Reader x "The Ghoul" Cooper Howard (18+ MDNI) Full Fic here on AO3

Chapter 10: Contraband (AO3 Link Here)

You're not running away from your sins, you're running towards the truth.

You're well on your way to the mesa. Just a few more stops on the shopping list in a local town. You've both got some secrets hidden under your skin but you've got a few lazy hours to figure them out

Tags: Read Em All on AO3, Dead Dove, Blood and Gore, Gunplay, Broken Bones, Bandits & Outlaws, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Dystopia, Blood and Injury, Mystery and Intrigue, Western, Action-Adventure, Canon Typical Blood N Guts, Zombies basically, Light D/s, oral, body worship, tattoos

Thanks for your likes, comments, kudos, and reblogs we loves a good reblog omnomnom (Please reblog!<3)

And let me know if you'd like to be on the taglist!

Art: Andrew Wyeth "Wind from the Sea", 1947

[tophat2776]

[writersun]

times are tough

[ladybirdswritings]

okay how do the girlies feel about a ghoul x reader but it’s an au where she’s considered a diamond of high society and he’s every bit the rough cowboy— they shouldn’t even be seen together but they can’t resist and they slow burn fall in LOVE. thoughts??

[dykedvonte]

The Ghoul: Ain’t ya tired of bein’ nice? Don’t ya wanna go ape shit?

Lucy, going ape shit mind you: No! I’m tired of everyone being so mean all the god dang time!

[losthiqhway]

lucy should be allowed to do this s2

[periprose]

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. 

[squishmyster]

Crazy, he calls me

Cooper Howard could be described as a husband, father, and a prolific actor but what happens when it all starts crumbling under his feet and one of the only things to give him fresh air is you. His co-worker and one of his closest friends. Will everything including your relationship fail or will it be the one thing that survives even a nuclear fallout.

Authors Notes: HELLO ALL THIS IS MY FIRST FIC SERIES...very much a slow burn...ANY CONSTRUCTIVE CRTICSIM IS WELCOME AND I HOPE YOU AAL ENJOY!!!! OH AND ITS IN THE FIRST PERSON.... Warnings: Mentions of dying parent! Prologue~~~ Reunion MASTERLIST

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Chapter 1~~~ Give Me the Simple Life

The First time that I met Cooper was during the war while I was a medic. We never really said much except a few polite waves and hello's that then turned into polite conversations and heartfelt talks. After the war, we came across each other on the set of A Man and His Dog. 

Arriving earlier than planned to the studio I get out of my car and walk to set I can't help but feel a little sad seeing how this is the smallest role yet but no matter how much I've done as an actress a gig like this is just what I need right now low stress and good pay. Even if I have money saved up I have to pay for my sick parents' medical fees and if I don't work I'll be bankrupt by the time I'm thirty. So I put on a smile, straighten my back, remind myself that I haven't been doing this too long, and make my way inside politely waving and saying hello to anyone I come across. 

After a quick debrief we were told to wait for the rest of the cast and crew to get there. As I was sitting off to the side nursing a very bleak coffee I started people watching taking note of who was talking to who. Looking between small groups of people and watching their mannerisms. That was until my eyes landed on him the man of the hour himself Cooper Howard. Smile shining, eyes bright and full of life. I couldn't stop myself from starring taking in all his dashing features and then we locked eyes it felt like my breath was stolen from me and all I could do was give him a small smile and wave before taking a sip of coffee in my hand which I quickly regretted forgetting that it tasted like burnt rubber and sugar.

Before I could even look up I felt a small tap on my shoulders and heard the voice of the man I was once very close to. "Hey, long time no see".  Looking up at him I smile and give him a slight nod. "Long time no see Cooper, how's life treating you?". seeing him up close is almost refreshing, to say the least after having not talked or seen him after his honorable discharge from the military... it feels like I found something I lost a long time ago. "Hm well... life's been pretty good to me so far, especially since I get to spend a lot more time with my daughter Janey, and what about you?". 

Hearing the light that comes to his voice at the mention of his daughter I smile and can't help it when my mind tries to envision him being a dotting father. Slightly embarrassed I down the rest of my coffee and take a glance looking for a nearby trashcan to discard the cup leaving Coopers lingering glances along my figure and the slight smirk on his face go unnoticed. " That's great I'm glad to hear things have been going well for you... as for me well things are great". Deciding it wouldn't be appropriate to spring family problems on him seeing as it's been years since we have seen each other I keep my answer short and sweet with a billion-dollar smile to match. 

Standing as poise as possible I place the empty paper cup on a table close by and straighten out my dress making sure any visible wrinkles like radium in face cream. "Well-". Before Cooper could say another word we were being called to go to get ready to shoot for something that should be a nerve-racking day being my first time around most of these people but I didn't feel nervous if anything I felt excited and maybe it was because I finally have Coop back in my life but I'm gonna disregard that and just say the excitement is no different this time than any other time I've been excited about a movie I'm acting in.

Saying our goodbyes Cooper gives me a charming smile before turning to leave while I grab the almost forgotten cup and throw it away in the nearby trashcan. After an hour in the hair and makeup chair, my mind drifts to my mother and how she's doing even if it feels like a worthless thought seeing as she's lying in a hospital bed dying and not having been able to see her the past couple of weeks has been harder than I thought. Wishing I could be with her and at least hold her hand through this horrid time. I keep thinking about how I'm failing her by not being by her side and it honestly feels like I'm screaming into a void of emptiness and it's starting to swallow me whole. Holding back tears I try and remind myself that I'm doing this for her no matter how hard it is. Once I'm done with hair and Makeup I head towards the set, push down all former emotions, and plaster on that award-winning Hollywood smile and poised look I'm known for having.

After a long day of shooting, I can say I'm very happy to be out of those hot Western clothes especially since it's a surprisingly humid Tuesday in California. On my way out of the studio, I say my goodbyes my smile is not very forced anymore since I could just go home, check on my mother, and then relax before starting all over again. As I reach my car I hear someone call out my name causing me to turn around but seeing who it was made a smile hit my lips and I lean on the car while he gets closer. " Hey, Cooper... did you need anything?".  

He had a slight jog in his step and once he reached me his smile turned wider and he gave me a quick up and down. Sliding one hand in his pocket he pulls out a cigarette case and lighter putting the bud of the cig to his lips with a flick of his thumb light he puts both the case and lighter in the chest pocket of his black suit." Yes I do actually... your number i hate that we lost contact and well isn't this a perfect time to catch up". Hearing him I feel a little shocked and I can't help but think it's not a perfect time for anything in my life and it takes me a few seconds longer than normal to answer.

Noticing the hesitance on my face Cooper makes a face of his own one that almost resembled disappointment or at least that's what it looked like to me so before he could say anything I did. " I wouldn't mind that". Just like that we were exchanging numbers and saying our goodbyes and once I got home I thought about the day I had. Thought about Cooper way more than I'm willing to admit and after doing it for longer than seemed sane. I called my mom we talked for a few hours before I turned in for the night my dreams filled with nothing but stars.

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HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED SAVE A HORSE RIDE A COWBOY AND ALL THAT JAZZ!!!!!

DON'T STEAL MY WORK IF YOU REPOST TAG ME!!! thanks.

Thanks for reading from Squish<3

[htchnr]

♰ bewildered ༻ C. HOWARD.*ೃ˚ drabble

➻ masterlist. ➻ buy me a coffee!

PAIRING ➻ the same reader x Cooper dynamic from this fic!

SUMMARY ➻ requested by anon ; Maybe reader asks to borrow his hat to keep the sun out of her eyes and maybe Lucy is there just watching in disbelief as he actually loans reader it for a while.

AUTHORS NOTE ➻ uhg i love this man so much to the point where he's invaded my dreams.. 😩 Anon here also asked for a small kiss, but honestly Coop holding your hand INFRONT of LUCY? so much more intimate in my eyes than a kiss 😩😩😩💕😭😭

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐇𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐑. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!

you groan, rubbing the bridge of your nose. the sun was particularly harsh today, beating down on you and worsening your headache. "i should look for a hat like yours, Coop," you huff, glancing over at him before slowly continuing to walk. "would make days like this with headaches like this immensely more doable," you muse out loud, not really thinking much of it.

Lucy walks slightly behind you, then Cooper behind her. it's taking him a bit to trust her still. she watches Cooper shake his head and sigh as he walks past her and steps beside you. her eyes widen as she watches him pull his hat off, and drop it atop your head. the quick gentle and comforting pat of his hand on your lower back doesn't go unnoticed by her either as she watches the interaction with bewildered eyes.

"thank you," you mutter with a pained smile, looking up at him from under the brim of his hat.

Lucy's lips part in shock as she watches Cooper crack a genuine smile at you, before reaching for your hand. "not a problem darlin'," he sighs, and Lucy can hear the smile in it, though his head is now turned away from her. "i'll keep my eyes out for somethin'."

Cooper squeezes your hand in a comforting manner, and you move a little closer beside him while you all pick up the pace again. Lucy picks up her pace as she walks behind the pair of you, eyes still wide, yet also basking in Cooper's nice manner for a change.

though, she supposes, he's always nice to you. maybe a little rough or handsy, but she can't think of one genuinely mean or harmful thing he's done to you when you've been around. it's really just Lucy that Cooper picks on for whatever reason.

"chop chop Vaultie, ass up front now." Cooper drawls, a tight and derogatory whistle sounding from between his lips. so much for the nice moment, she thinks as she huffs and moves around you to walk up front.

TAGLIST ; @live-logs-and-proper @looonytooons @seeingstarks @thewastelandwriter @lacey-mercylercy @marina-and-the-memes @p4rsuade @anonymous-creep @likoplays @iceviolet11 @https-junebug @silverose365 @athanza @songbirdemerald-blog @justt-myth @looneylooomis

[bountydroid]

Jealousy

Request: Can I please request a Cooper x Fem reader comfort angst romance where the sweet reader is infatuated with Cooper (she has a thing for older men)The sweet reader is always doing unnecessary favors for him, like secretly giving him discounts on rad away and supplies, taking care of dog meat, and getting him information on bounties. Until he brings along Lucy, misunderstanding the whole situation, the reader’s heart breaks thinking the worst and slowly stops trying and acting cold and distant, making Cooper notice that the only tolerable person he has ever known in this god forsaken world is ignoring him. (Feel free to add or change anything just pls feed into my delusions😭 I just want some hardcore romance with our cowboy) Also can u pls add that the reader also has a cute southern accent?

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x f!reader

Description: As a wandering trader, you've made a lot of strange friends. Among them, Ghouls, but there is one in particular that is your favorite.

Notes: I hope I did this justice for you anon!

The Wasteland was brutal, and even you knew it was a bad idea to trek it alone, but you had a job to do. However, as you found yourself in front of your old friend Roger's home you felt like the Wastelands weren't all that bad.

"My name.. is Roger." You heard him repeating between snarls.

You stopped in your tracks outside the door. "He's turning," You thought to yourself as you rummaged through your pack looking for any vials of Radaway. You were all out. Sighing, you put your hand on your holster before slowly making your way inside to check on your friend.

"Rog?" You ask as you round the corner to find him sitting in the dirt.

"Oh hey," he said relieved. "My savior. Do you have any vials"

"I don't have any, Rog." You replied sadly.

"Oh." He whispered. "You should probably get out of here then. It's not safe for little girls like you to be in the Wastelands alone." He said sadly, leaving out the bit you both knew, you weren't safe with HIM alone. 

Before you could respond, you heard quiet footsteps down the corridor. "Who else is here?" You thought to yourself as your hand went back to your holster. Peaking your head around the corner you find none other than Cooper Howard and... a vaultie? You did very little to hide the confusion on your face as you looked between the two.

"Hey, you." You said to Cooper. "What are you doing here?"

"Could ask you the same thing, sweetheart." He responds, pushing the vaultie through the doorway and making his way to Roger.

"Hey Rog," Cooper greets him.

"Hey. Hey." Rogers laughs, relieved to see his friend. "Fancy seeing you here. You out for that bounty, too, huh?"

"Yep," Cooper responds as he knelt in front of his friend.

You all stand there in silence for a bit, listening to Roger snarl and whip his head around. 

"Oh, shit," Roger says between wails.

"How you feeling?" Cooper asks quietly, already knowing the answer.

"Oh.. you know," Roger replied. "It's hard out here. Dang smoothies can be so unkind. I see you got a smoothie of your own." He says as he looks over at the vaultie.

You also turn to look at the vaultie, a look of displeasure on your face. "A smoothie of your own." Repeating over and over in your head. You wanted to be his smoothie. You and Cooper never really started a relationship, but you thought you were heading in that direction. You gave him a generous discount on Radaway since you developed a little crush on him, and he would always spend more time than necessary with you whenever you crossed paths. He was always fussing after you and was always telling you how you were too reckless. In his eyes, everything was too dangerous for you. He knew how you felt about him, and you THOUGHT you knew how he felt about you, but this vaultie threw a wrench in everything. "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he doesn't like me." You thought to yourself while eyeing her up. You were so lost in thought that you could barely hear Roger snarling next to you. 

"You're turning," Cooper says reluctantly, his voice pulling you from your thoughts.

"Yeah maybe, maybe." Roger says on the verge of tears, "Maybe. Hey, you don't happen to have any vials, do you? Y/n is all out."

Cooper's eyes met yours as you nodded your head sadly.

"Just one little puff and I'll be back on my feet. You know I'm good for it." Roger pleaded.

"I'm sorry Roger I am all out," Cooper says, looking back toward his friend.

"That's okay. That's okay." Roger mumbles. "Though, um, you and y/n and your smooth-faced friend, you um... you might want to clear out before things get ugly."

You flinch as you hear Roger snarl again, each time he was getting louder and louder. You look down at your feet with tears in your eyes.

"I did okay. 28 years since I first started showing," Roger said looking between you and Cooper, before snarling again. "Oh, hell! Not as long as you though." He pointed proudly at Cooper, "You've outlasted us all. How long since you first started Wastelanding?"

"A long time," Cooper responds while shaking his head.

"That's a lot of vials," Roger said quietly.

"Well I've always been good at making money, Roger." Cooper exhales as he stands up. "Say, you remember how good food used to taste?"

"Yeah, BlamCo Mac and Cheese!" Roger says excitedly.

"Ice Cream and Apple Pie." Cooper countered.

Roger laughed, a real laugh. He was happy. "Apple Pie is not nearly as sweet as young Y/n's southern accent though." He says smiling up at you. "You know, my mom used to -"

Before you knew what happened, Roger's brains were all over the wall. You looked up at Cooper with tears in your eyes. You knew it had to be done. You knew it was mercy, but it still hurt. 

"Why did you do that?" The vaultie asked. "He was sick."

"He wasn't gonna get better." You responded dryly.

"You usually don't go all the way out here sweetheart, not on your own. What are you up to?" Cooper asks you as he picks up Roger's body and places it in a position where he easily access what he needs.

You don't respond. Between the jealousy brewing in your stomach at the vaultie next to you and the sadness about Roger, you couldn't find the words you wanted to say. 

"Stop. Stop Stop." The vaultie pleaded, "Please, I know it's hard out here but you don't, you don't have, you don't have to resort to... to..."

Before he could respond you quickly made your way out of the building for some fresh air. You could hear their voices inside, but you decided to drown them out by humming to yourself. You didn't need to see him take apart Roger, and you definitely couldn't stand the sound of her voice any longer. You knew you should get walking, you were low on supplies and they would be leaving the building soon. You didn't want to face them again, but it felt like there were bricks in your boots. As exhaustion hit you, you sat down in the sand and closed your eyes, losing track of time.

"Hey," You hear Cooper say as he puts his hand on your shoulder. "You good, sweetheart?"

'Fine." You mumbled out. "You and your smoothie should get going." The venom in your voice was loud and clear, but you didn't care.

"That's what got ya panties in a bunch?" Cooper laughed. 

You glared up at him in response. "Don't laugh at me, Cooper."

"I am taking her to SuperDuperMart. Not keepin’ her as a pet.” Cooper smiles as he offers you his hand. 

"Oh," You responded quietly, feeling stupid.

"What is SuperDuperMart?" You heard the vaultie ask, but the two of you completely ignored her.

"No one could ever replace you, sweetheart," Cooper says as he cups your face. 

You couldn't help the smile that graced your face at his words, and the blush that creeped up your neck.

He smiled when he noticed the way your eyes flickered towards his lips. 

"When I get my hands on some Radaway, I'll show you just how much you mean to me." You whispered.

"Lookin' forward to it." He whispered back.

The two of you were so caught up in each other that you didn't even notice the look of pure disgust on the vaultie's face as she watched your interaction. Some people may never understand why you like Cooper so much, but honestly? You couldn't give a damn.

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