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ladybirdswritings · 1 day

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Pretty Thing - Cooper Howard (Ghoul) x Reader

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

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

last chap | A03 | masterlist

part 4

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

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

Thing was, it had been days.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not a fucking dog.”

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

“Y’ thirsty?”

… what?

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

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

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

“Wh—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yet you?

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

•••

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The clean, pristine lake water.

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

A minute passed, then another…

The lake water was settled in her stomach…

…and she was completely— fine.

Unharmed.

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

Anger.

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

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

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

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

Oh you got it now. You got it completely.

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

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

Just like your keepers.

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

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

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

You did it now.

You truly, pissed him off.

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe he was worse…

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

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

He was drowning you.

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

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

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

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

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

This was how you’d die.

That thought, it settled then.

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

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

Closer…

Closer….

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

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

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

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

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

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

Radiation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Exhausted.

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

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

Dead.

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

Entirely… dead.

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

Yet still, the mad man, he was satisfied.

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

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

Not horror, not disgust… no.

Simply?

Awe…

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htchnr · 1 day

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⚡️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 !

#cooper howard x fem!oc #cooper howard x original female character #cooper howard x oc #cooper howard #the ghoul x fem!oc #the ghoul x original female character #the ghoul x oc #the ghoul fallout #cooper howard x fem!reader #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard oneshot #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul oneshot #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul smut #the ghoul x reader

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periprose · 26 days

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Sweet as Nuka Cola

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Reader

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

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

Word Count: 11k

“Action!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He says your name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just choose to assume it’s entirely friendly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Was it good?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He loved being the hero, really.

He lights a cigarette, and takes a puff.

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

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

“Backlash, really?” You whisper.

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

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

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

And you absolutely are.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shudder.

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

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

Oh fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now he thinks you're just unfinished business.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You flinch, and he stops.

“Oh, God, my eyes–”

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

You blink, tears rolling down your face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No wonder he enjoys his casket time.

Coop sighs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No way is he letting easy money pass by him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re angry at the state of the world.

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

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

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

Coop is actually drawn to silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright.” You whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bullshit.”

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

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

“Nah. I’m not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grasp his arm back, making him quiet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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grugruel · 1 month

Text

His Little Killer

Pairings: Cooper howard x f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: in reluctant companionship with a ghoul, which turns out to be exactly as dreadful as you'd thought. You find yourself in a shoot-out where–post battle–one of your usual fights end way more pleasurable than usual.

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: (violence, blood, death, in typical fallout manners), enemies to lovers, choking, pinv sex, rough sex, fingering, creampie, pet names (darlin', honey, killer, sweetheart), praise, a pinch of degradation.

AN: not yet proofread! Hope yall enjoy! (Yes, I'm unwell.'

Wood shattering, explosions booming–and charging footsteps heading straight for me. 'At my right!' I shout, gesturing in the direction of the steps. My voice barely registering above the racket of the fight.

Nonetheless, he heard me, I knew he did. Because bullets suddenly whizz past my makeshift cover in every direction except to my right.

The ammunition creating sick squelching noises as they collide with their targets, bloodsplatter spraying the walls a horrifying deep red. Meanwhile, in my corner. The heavy footsteps were left wide open to plough through the old wooden barrels I was hiding behind, 'Holy shii-' I squeak as im tackled to the floor with enough force to knock the breath out of my lungs. I try to cough, try to make my lungs open up as the man grabs hold of me. I hit my chest hard, desperately hoping it would do something–

He grabs my boots, pulling me toward him and finally- I get a breath of air. 'Stupid, fucking asshole.' I mutter through clenched teeth as I lunge and wrestle my attacker, our quarreling bodies kicking up a cloud of dust to swirl around us.

The man was big and foul-smelling, maybe it would've been better refered to as an it, considering the animalistic growls, snapping teeth, and fraying lips that bit and lunged at my face. He attempted to pin my arms to the ground while aiming its teeth at my jugular, but I was quicker. My knee smashing into his balls before he had a single thought of defending himself. He cried out in pain and I took my chance to roll him over, pinning him down with my weight instead, and I began throwing a wave of punches to his face, over and over again. 'I said MY right!' I shouted over my shoulder, weeks of fury and frustration bubbling up inside me as it fueled me into beating the ugly mut unrecognizable–when a second force slammed into my back, knocking me onto the ground once again. Another man, now climbing on top of me, his dirty fingers slithering around my throat and-

Another splatter, this time it's his blood–the second man's, and its sprayed all over me.

'Finally. . .' I exhale heavily, thudding back against the floor, splaying out with relief.

'Were really polishin' up on our teamwork.' A gruff voice announced, words coming out slow and steady with that self-satisfied tone which never failed to get on my nerves.

I heaved myself up on my forearms, angling my body so what remained of the man slumped off of me, and the source of the voice appeared like a specter from the dead man's shadow. 'You're a real pretty sight when ridin' a man like that.' He said, nodding to the guy with a bashed face.

I rolled my eyes, unbelievable. 'You mean while beating the shit out of him?' I ask, my voice pitching higher as I couldnt quite fathom the nerve of that man, despite forcing myself to get used to it over the past few weeks.

He hummed. 'Mhm, really got me goin' for a sec.'

My face scrunched up in disgust. 'Fucking cowboys.' I spat, renouncing the idea loudly. But, quietly, inside my mind, the thought had my core purring unwillingly.

'I shot right, just like you asked.' He shrugged, stalking closer, the drawl in his voice washing through the barren and now battered bar.

'The hell you did!' I hissed. He stopped at my feet, looming over me with his tall frame, frayed coat swaying around his chins, and that stupid cowboy hat covering half his face just like always. We'd been forced travelling companions for a while now, and I could say a lot of nasty things about him, but it was hard to deny- he was a real fucking apocalypse cowboy. Pretty cool if you cut his personality out of the picture.

'I said my right, what the fuck else do you think I ment with "my"?' I kick the lifeless body with my boot, emphasising my point.

'Well. . .' He shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. '. . .my, right.' He smirked.

I shook my head, shooting him daggers. 'Not even you are moronic enough to get that wrong, ghoul.'

'Well, you're right.' He admitted, shocking me for a second. But then, the problem I've always had with him, inescapable and always the same–he never shut his damn mouth when he ought to–and continued, 'You need to work om your phrasin', honey.'

I shut my eyes, screwing them together so tight I began wishing I could disintegrate from annoyance and seep through the cracks between the weathered floorboards like a corn of sand. But no, I was stuck with him, and had to lay there listening to his idiocy. 'How–?' I sighed a heavy, exasperated sigh. '–is it possible for a man to be so full of himself, yet- never talk about himself?'

'Tricks of the trade, sweetheart.' He winked, clicking his tongue while those forsaken eyes roamed my body like a predator sizing up it's prey, and extended a hand toward me as if it were no big deal.

Exhausted as I was, accepting his help seemed sorely tempting to my tired body. After a moments hesitation, I decided–once, wouldn't harm my morals. So, I grabbed his hand with reluctance and let him pull me to my feet. 'I could've died, I hope you realise.'

'Yes. . . But you didn't.' His lips pulling into a grin. 'I wouldn't let that happen'.'

'You're a real bastard, y'know that?' the words left my lips with an unintentional drawl, damn that man.

The ghoul cocked an inexistent eyebrow. 'If I didnt know any better, I'd say im rubbin' of on you, honey.'

Another scoff from me. 'The only thing you're rubbing–is me the wrong way.' I spat, this time making a point of speaking as plainly as possible.

His eyes lit up suspiciously, filling with mischief as his widening smile creased them. 'Well, tell me how you like it then and I'll do it the right way.' He smirked, his voice gravely as it scraped along my spine with a shiver. He always did this, He'd call me nicknames, flirt with me. All cause he knew I hated it. But now he's just bordering on harassment. It did however, not, stop the heat from rising to my cheeks, or for a blush to seep through my skin. He'd staggered me, I truly didn't know how to react. What happened next was purely instinctively driven–

The palm of my hand made contact with his cheek, a crisp slap sounding out through the room. I even confused myself for a moment, almost as I was the one who'd been hit. But I would've been furious, how he reacted, well. . .

'There you are. . .' He purred, his tone lethal. '. . .my little killer.' A grin spreading across his face as he took a step closer.

He was pure poison, somehow both hot and cold as he ran through my veins. 'I ain't yours.' He wss the only person- ghoul, who could get on every nerve I possessed, lighting it ablaze with frustration.

'No. . .? You ain't?' He chuckled, 'You're sure startin' to sound like it, sweetheart. I see the way you look at me, the way you blush when I call you pretty little names.' He nodded toward my eyes, his hat tipping with the movement as he took another step, gaining on the precious distance between us. I feared he was right, too, my cheeks burned in a way I'd never noticed before. Had I always reacted like this? Before I knew it–I'd flung my palm for his face a once again-

Only this time, he caught my wrist. 'Tsk tsk tsk, you can do better than that, killer.' He let go off me, forcefully shoving my arm back to my side with a scoff.

But now, I'm the one stepping closer, pushing him away by the chest simultaneously. 'I hate you.' I spit, taking another step and push again, but this time he doesn't budge, and I was left standing mere inches away from him, my hands pressed firmly against his chest as my own heaved with frustrated breaths, strands of hair hanging over my face from the ordeal.

'Good. . .' He whispered, brushing wild strands of hair from my face. '. . .Now, show me how much you hate me.'

I could've slapped him again, pushed him again, done anything else than what I actually did. But my body acted on instinct, again-

I crashed into him, my hands grabbing his face as our lips met in a battle for control. He released a breathy moan, his trigger ready hands finding my waist impossibly quick to pull me flush against him, our bodies clashing together in a thud. He hummed. 'That's right, killer. Show me.' He whispered in the air-swallowing gasps between our kisses.

I put pressure behind my hands, walking him backward while my fingers found the buttons of his vest. Undoing them along with the shirt, then slid his coat and vest down his shoulders in one go, right before his back collided with the bar top. My hands found themselves making their beneath his shirt, feeling the dents of his scarred chest as I sucked his lip between my teeth, and bit down. A sharp hiss escaped him, quickly being replaced by a wide grin. 'Naughty girl.' He breathed.

Smiling, I pushed myself off of him. 'You bring it out of me.' I panted, pulling my shirt over my head and unhooking my bra, letting it fall to the floor.

He leaned back against the bar, bracing himself on his elbows as his eyes roamed over my bare chest and flushed face. 'Those are the prettiest fuckin' tit's I've ever seen. . .' He spoke in a low voice, too filled with lust to allow him anything else. 'Now, would you mind.' His hand gestured below my waist, his index finger sliding through the air as he traced the buttons of my pants from a distance.

And an idea struck me, suddenly feeling like I wanted to indulge myself in a little torture. Turning around, I did as he told me and began unbuttoning them, slowly. Terribly, terribly slowly. Sliding them over my hips and down my thighs, bucking my knees and bending over slightly as I pulled my panties down along with them. Just as I stepped out if them and looked over my shoulder to give him a coy little look, perhaps revel in the feeling of his pained expression–I was in for a surprise.

Turning my head over my shoulder, I came fave to face with him, but he wasn't just standing there- no. He collided with my back, his arms already wrapped around ny front to catch me. His shirt bow nowhere to be seen. 'Enough.' He growled, one strong arm wrapping around my breasts as the other wrapped around my waist. He raised me off the floor, held tightly against his chest. I squeeked, giggling as I pulled my legs up. Completley overcome with the anticipation of what was about to befall me–then I all of a sudden found myself pushed over the bar top, chest against the smooth luke warm surface. The quality off it telling me it hadn't been bought when fitted into this weathered building.

Then, the clanging of metal, leather groaning, friction, and his belt hit the floor. Gruff hands ran over the swell of my ass and down the arch of my back, taking his time to feel all of me. 'Been thinkin' 'bout this, how you'd feel falling apart beneath me, on top of me–' he leaned over me, hand wrapping around my neck as he pulled me flush against him only to whisper in my ear. '–around me. . .' He breathed, dragging the words out. '. . . All wet 'n messy with my cum fillin' you up.'

A moan left my lips. 'Show me.' Was all I could get out, a silent pleading to make all those thoughts a reality–and so he did.

Before I knew it, a hand had disappeared to line himself up with my entrance, pushing inside me without as much as a warning.

'Fuck!' I cried out, my voice breaking as my breath left me. It felt never ending, he was huge. But oh, he felt so good.

He groaned, finally stopping as he'd sunken all the way into my core. 'So wet for me already.' His hand slid over my back and shoulder, molding itself to my throat as the other grabbed my hip. Already flush with my back, he inclined his head, leaving trail of kisses along my spine and neck.

'Fuck me, please Coop-' it was the first time I'd called him by his name, and I realised it the second it left my lips.

His lips curled against my skin, a smile-

He thrusted into me, again and again. My back arching into an angled I had no idea it was capable of, helping him hit my core at every rut of his hips–not that he needed it. The 200+ years of experience really showed, and they were definitely felt.

The bar was dead silent, no noise except for our joint breaths of pleasure and the sound of slapping skin. It was lewd and brutal, and It made me absolutely delerious. His low, pained grunting in my ear did nothing to ease the matter. He'd created an aching so strong within me I wasn't sure It'd ever be able to be tamed.

'Harder, harder, please.' I stuttered, the words barely coming out between my heavy pants. Fuck, he made me feral. Without even trying, that's just what he was capable of. It annoyed me, he managed to annoy me while fucking me senseless. Oh, how I wish I could hate him, but there was no going back now.

Coop left little love bites all along my shoulder, and up the side of my throat, nipping and kissing in equal meassure as his breathing warmed my skin deliciously. Doing it all with such precision I couldnt understand, his thrust were rocking my emtire body, his chest rubbing againdt my back, yet he could be so delicate. I side ive never seen before. 'Little killer ain't so tough no more, is she?' He whispered, placing a kiss behind my ear before biting the lobe, tugging in it gently.

'. . . Mmh- 'm not, I'm not.' I got out. I was whatever he said I was while he delivered this type of pleasure on a silver platter. I didn't care, my morals had been thrown out the window the second his lips touched mine.

'Well, look at that. Admittin' defeat already?' I could feel his stupid grin again, his pace slowing- still ruthless, but it did enough for that feeling of building pressure to wain inside me.

I shook my head, shutting my eyes hard as I tried to focus on his member moving inside me, desperate not to lose that red string that'd lead me to climax.

'Words, sweetheart. Use em'. .'

'Dont fucking care.' I cried. 'J- just- Fuck. Me. Harder.' I ground out, my teeth clenching real hard from a mix of desperation and frustration for the pressure to start rebuilding.

'That'll do.' He groaned, squeezing my throat. All the while his other hand slid down to my cunt, starting condensed circling around my clit. And just like that, he'd made me into a whimpering mess for him to steady, falling apart beneath him just like he'd thought. Then he simply took up right where he left off, without missing a beat he thrusted so ferociously I was sure I'd be bruising on every single part of my body from the vibrations that rumbled through my muscles alone.

The darkness of my lips were specking with white, a wall of pressure building brick by brick in my abdomen. 'Close, so fucking close.' I whimpered.

'Good- Good job sweetheart. Doin' so good for me.' He burried his face in my hair, nuzzling his nose into its scent, inhaling it as he too approached climax. And there it was, that sudden softness. It was almost unsteadying my senses more than his touch, more than his thrusts, but only almost. 'You sound so sweet for me, honey. Let me hear ya'. . .' He moaned, exhaling warmth against the nape of my neck.

I obliged, of course I did. 'Feels so good, Coop- so close. . .' I panted, tears burning my eyes as they began rolling down my cheeks.

He slid his hand upward, keeping it between me jaw and throat, still choking me as he angled my face over my shoulder, enabling him to kiss me properly. And I've never been more thankful because I was about to cry myself dry as the wall broke. Pleasure flooding through my body in tidal waves, my knees bucking beneath me. 'Good girl.' He praised, voice muffled against my lips. Fingers stopping to instead cup my aching cunt. 'My good fuckin' girl, my little killer.' He moaned softly, my lips vibrating from the roughness in his voice as he caught me, delivering a final few ruts of his hips before he too came. Doing just as he promised, filling me up with his cum.

He loosed his grip around my throat and slit, letting me depend on the counter for support while he held me. 'Still hate me?'

'Yes.' I didn't, but it'd be a long time before I admitted that to him.

'Good.' And then there was silence, our lungs catching up with our breaths. 'Still wanna see those pretty hips ride me.' He murmured as he hugged me from behind, his hand sliding lower, pinching my hipbone.

'Ow! Asshole.' I yelped, and he kissed my shoulder to make up for it. But the thought was alluring nonetheless. I wriggled in his embrace, looking around at the destruction we'd caused, at the- dead bodies. And a pang of guilt hit me. 'Fine, but not here.' I agreed, actually wanting nothing more than to get out of there and sit in his lap, maybe ride his thighs too.

We redress, and share a kiss before leaving. 'Can't wait to taste that cunt of yours, killer.' He murmured suddenly. Leaving me staggered once again.

Ugh, I'm done for.

#fallout #fallout smut #cooper howard #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x female reader #cooper howard fanfic #the ghoul #the ghoul smut #fallout imagine #fallout fanfic #fallout x reader #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul fanfic #the ghoul imagine

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tinalbion · 8 days

Text

'𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐝' ||

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: The Ghoul x fem!Reader

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄! Minors, DO NOT interact! Smut with plot, oral (male receiving), blowjob, vaginal fingering, cowgirl, penetration, creampie murder, canon typical language

𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 8k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: I saw someone mention that they think the Ghoul hasn't had sex in 200 years, (their personal headcanon) they figure he would be a little bit rusty. So this is what stemmed from that post, which isn't exactly too on point but it's something! This is for you!

It had been hell in the Wastelands as you struggled to survive, but you were always a tough one and managed to make it on your own, though using that experience you gained only made you stronger, smarter, and less likely to be taken off guard. Well, you had thought so, but life managed to always try to surprise you.

The Ghoul came and changed all of that.

You happened to run into him by complete accident as you were scrounging for scraps, anything you could sell or trade in, and there he was, walking by without a care in the world as he readjusted the saddle bag on his shoulder. You saw him, but he didn't see you, or so you thought.

It was funny how most ghouls on the surface had all but withered away and turned feral, but this one seemed to have a purpose, your eyes focused on him for a good long while as he was searching for…something. You weren't sure what exactly, but you still watched him to pass the time, especially since he was one of the most interesting people you'd seen out here in a very long while.

He stopped and looked straight at you like he knew you were there the entire time, and your heartbeat quickened. What would he do? Would he rob you for what you had? Shoot you for fun? No, he didn't do any of that, he just stared for a long moment, tilted his head as the brim of his hat covered his stare, and then went on his merry way.

That was the first time you saw him.

The second time you'd met him wasn't too long after. You were making your way around once again, in search of jobs, and you'd frequent local bars, or what passed as bars nowadays, and you'd been drinking a cheap bottle of probably piss, and he had walked in. The entire room went silent save for a few who could have cared less about a Ghoul's presence. Not a lot of folks cared for them, saw them as less than people, but you didn't have an issue, just with the ones who posed a threat.

He sauntered up to the bar, slapped a folded piece of paper down, then took a seat. The jingle of his spurs echoed in your head as he sat there, his intimidating aura radiated off of him to the point you were too afraid to look anywhere but stare at your drink. he must have sensed your unease and he shifted, staring at you, his eyes glared toward you in sunken sockets, his prominent brow furrowed.

There was talk amongst the bar again, more hushed than it had been, but it was there all the same. You heard the stranger's voice speak up this time, but you focused so hard on anything but him that it seemed to be muffled talk with the bartender. Your eyes flickered over to look at his hands, which rested on the counter, gloves covered his hands as he remained as calm as ever while he tapped his digits against the defaced wood.

“Well, sweetheart, maybe you could point me in the direction of someone who has a damn sense of what they're sayin’ to me, ‘cause I'm havin’ a difficult time finding anyone who doesn't seem to be hidin’ something.”

You turned to look at him in surprise and stared for a moment. “What?” You asked.

He scoffed. “I said, you seen this fella?” He slid the paper toward you, it was now unfolded with a sketch of a man you think you saw a few nights ago in this same dive.

You nodded and looked up at him for the first time, staring into his eyes, and they pierced yours, stunning you for a moment. “Yeah, saw him here, was talking in the corner with a few other men, but I didn't stick around long. They were being loud and bragging about some bounty they were taking on,” you explained.

The Ghoul listened, took in your words, and then craned his neck back toward the bartender. “See, now I come in here askin’ so nicely for some information, and here you are hurtin’ my feelings.”

The bartender shot you an annoyed glare and then stared back at him. “Look, I don't want any trouble in my bar, and I get a bunch of people in and out of here, ain't nothing special about some bounty hunter, we get loads of you guys.”

The Ghoul didn't like that response from the man, so he leaned further onto the counter and slid the empty glass toward him. “Top me off, and I'll be on my way.”

You turned away from the Ghoul and tried not to get more involved than you already were. You had a feeling that once he left, the bartender would cut you off, shoot you probably, who knows. So you scooted out of your stool and threw your caps onto the counter, then turned away to make your way out. Once you left through the doors, that's when you heard the sound of a gun go off, and you were thankful you got out of there when you did.

Where you'd go next, you weren't sure, but sticking around the area would be an awful idea, so you decided to get as far away from the dive as possible. As soon as your feet touched the ground, the door swung open.

“Leavin’ before you could miss all the fun?” His voice called out to you, his boots heavy on the wooden stairs as he walked down toward you, and the jingle of his spurs echoed behind him.

“Figured it wouldn't be smart being inside where I could get shot, as much as I'd like to stick around, getting injured ain't fun.”

“You know more than you're lettin’ on, sweetheart, and I ain't in the mood to play games. Where can I find him?”

You figured you had nothing to gain or lose on this man, this bounty wasn't in your interest nor was being around the fool, so you figured you'd give him what he wanted. “Overheard him saying something about a hideout in the middle of the Mojave, said it's fortified with turrets, but I don't know how true that is.”

The Ghoul stared at you, obviously suspicious of your willingness to hand over the information, but he didn't argue. It almost seemed as if he were debating what to do with you from then on, but if your information proved to be wrong, he figured he could just find you again and shoot you.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked off, once again making his way across the desert to find his bounty. You figured that would be the last you’d ever seen of him, or at least you had hoped so considering he kind of scared the hell out of you. Truthfully, not many people did anymore, you’d seen a lot in the wastelands that you wish you hadn’t been exposed to mostly for your own well-being. But not much scared you or disturbed you anymore, though something about the Ghoul gnawed at you, it was a fight or flight response at best.

Of course, that was not the last you saw of the Ghoul.

The third time, you had a bad feeling that he was thinking the worst. Maybe he figured you were following him around the wastelands, that you coveted whatever he had, but it didn’t even cross his mind. When his eyes landed on you in a settlement trading post miles from where you’d last seen him, questioning some poor sucker who looked like he was trying to pull a fast one on the bounty hunter, and you had just kept on walking. He wouldn’t notice you, you were sure of it.

“Well if it isn’t my little informant from that shithole dive in the Mojave,” he said loud enough for you to hear.

You paused and looked over your shoulder, smiling nervously. “Oh, it’s you. You uh, find that guy you were looking for?” You asked him, trying to remain calm.

He cocked his head and wore a smirk. “Course I did, and your information was well worth it, glad I didn’t have to hunt you down, too.”

That was the closest to a ‘thank you’ as you’d ever get, you’d take it. “Anytime,” you hummed with a small two-fingered salute and turned back around, trying to get out of the vicinity.

The Ghoul released the man that he had gripped by his shirt and pointed harshly at him. “You keep your ass right there, I’ll be back for you. We ain’t finished yet.” He turned to walk in your direction and caught up with incredible speed. “Where you goin’, sweetheart? You seem pressed to leave whenever I show up.”

If this was his form of flirting, you weren’t sure, but you did seem to want to leave quickly whenever you saw him. “Oh, no sir, it’s just I’ve heard about your reputation and I’d rather not mix myself up with any of that,” you said straightforwardly.

This made the Ghoul chuckle to himself as he stepped in front of you, not allowing you to advance any further away from him. “You either one lucky gal or possibly a lucky charm,” he mused with a mischievous smile. “You work in bounties at all?”

Your eyes shifted from his to the ground, thinking of your response. “I thought about it, but I don’t have that sort of…command a bounty hunter has. I got different skills, though.”

“And what kind is that?”

You cleared your throat and looked up at him. “I mean no offense, but why are you asking?”

This made him chuckle again and he couldn’t help but try to size you up as you seemed so on the defensive. “Just friendly conversation is all.” That was obviously a lie, but he was definitely curious about you and how you just seemed to be there whenever he was.

Now this made you laugh and you nodded. “Sure, I suppose even someone with your reputation could be seen as friendly,” you quipped. “But I am just… a nobody. I just do what I can to get by.”

The Ghoul wasn’t sure how to read into your answer, but there was something to you. “Well, Miss Nobody,” he began as he grabbed the folded piece of paper from his pocket, “since your observance was so spot on last time, why not go round two for two? You seen this lowlife?”

You grabbed the paper from his hand and unfolded it, then grimaced at the photo. “Unfortunately I have, but this one is a bit more of a pain in the ass to get to. Runs with the Triggermen, they have a lot of solid hookups, so I wouldn’t just expect to go in guns blazing and think it ends there. But I saw him sniffing around Filly some time ago, probably doing more chem running.”

Again, he stared at you curiously. “You sure do know a lot of stuff for bein’ a nobody,” he pointed out with a low voice.

“If you’ve been around for as long as I have, you get to know quite a lot of you seem unassuming and blend into the background.”

“Around as long as you, huh?” He was mildly curious and almost amused by the wording.

You just nodded and looked around the area, and you noticed that a lot of the people seemed uneasy by the Ghoul’s presence, and you figured it wasn’t due to the fact it was because of what he was but who he was. “Look, again, you can’t just walk right in. If you’re looking for him, isolating him and taking him out alone is the best option for you. Not like you don’t know what you’re doing, I just don’t want you to end up dealing with more of those idiots.”

“What, lookin’ out for little ol’ me, Miss Nobody?” He asked with a sarcastic bite to his tone. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m not worried,” you said matter-of-factly, as if it was the furthest thing from your mind. You wanted to call him out on how ridiculous that sounded to you, but you knew better, so you kept your mouth shut and just offered the man a sigh. “Good luck though.”

And once again, you were walking away from the bounty hunter in one piece, still with a feeling of dread lingering in the back of your head while you faced your back toward him, trying to get as much distance from him and the trouble he would bring.

Yet there you were only days later, laying in your makeshift bed in a rundown shack you took over, and you were thinking about him for some unknown reason. Why, you had no idea and wouldn’t even try to linger on the idea, you just figured it was curiosity if he'd gotten ahold of the bounty he was in search of. But there had been other moments of weakness you had that had him at the center of your attention, and it came over you when you'd people-watch, which was a good habit to have for someone like you. Your eyes would wander, curious if you’d see him again as you ate the questionable food you bought from a vendor, your thoughts miles away.

Because you’d been so distracted, you hadn’t heard the footsteps you’d grown familiar with approach you from behind, the jingle of the spurs rang out. Your eyes had been glued to the scene below as you sat on a higher ledge, legs dangling off the edge while you chewed the tough iguana meat on a stick. There was a sudden ominous feeling beside you, so you happened to look up and see the Ghoul leaning against the railing you sat between.

“Oh, it’s you,” you said, your tone a bit more enthused than you initially thought.

He looked down at you and gave you that devious smirk he was so keen on wearing. “If it ain’t my lucky little rabbit’s foot,” he teased. “Once again, your word has proven useful. You sure are an interesting specimen ‘round these parts.”

You focused your attention back out toward the crowds of people, smiling at the compliment. “Oh, it’s nothing, really.” You brushed it off, not wanting to be indebted to the bounty hunter, even in words.

“Quiet modest, ain’t ya?” He commented. “No matter, Lucky Girl, took down the entire faction of the Triggermen with your help.”

You looked up at him in surprise. “You what?!” You were stunned that he just casually dropped such news, it was a huge deal considering a lot of the chem running was definitely put to a halt transiently. “I knew you were a kick ass bounty hunter, but this is… Unheard of.”

“Hell, I ain't gonna lie to you, although you don't go tellin’ anyone I said this, but you're one hell of an informant. Wouldn't mind havin’ you around.”

“I don't think having me around would make things easier,” you pointed out. “Getting shot at is something I'm not fond of, plus I'd only get in the way, trust me.”

“What if we made a little deal, then? You get protection, a cut of the money maybe in exchange for information?”

“That's… generous of a bounty hunter of your stature…” you pointed out, unsure of this decision. There had to have been some hidden agenda behind it, there was no way someone like him willingly traveled with companions because they gave him a bit of an advantage.

“It's not an offer I extend to many, especially since you seem much more reserved than most.” Whether this was a compliment or not was to be determined, but you did live up to that notion. “I just feel that you're a lucky rabbit who I can't allow others to exploit.”

“So you wanna exploit me first,” you said with an unsure smile.

This made the man’s smile grow even wider, he liked the way you could talk to him without cowering like most others did. You spoke your mind. “Now I wouldn't call it exploiting, I'd rather call it a business proposal.”

“What's stopping you from killing me when my luck runs out, then?”

Now this was a question for the ages, one he couldn't quite answer as honestly as the others. But it was a valid point regardless. “I'm sure I'll find a use for you, ain't worried about that.”

“Forgive me if I'm not jumping at the opportunity,” you replied with a chuckle. “Honestly I don't really have much going on as it is, so if you can manage to have me around, then I suppose I could help you out.”

Why did you accept? That was something you hadn’t really put too much thought into, you barely knew this man except for the rumors and stories you heard about him through word of mouth. How could you accept this so easily? You pushed the nagging thought in the back of your mind and just settled on survival, this is why you did a lot of dubious jobs in the wastelands.

You held out your hand and offered for him to shake it as your eyes met his.

With a moment of hesitation, he reached out his hand and shook yours, the difference in your textures had sparked something against your skin, and you shivered. It wasn’t an indication of disgust, but you felt an odd sensation that tingled up your spine.

“Guess we have a deal, then,” the Ghoul replied with a smile.

“I suppose we do,” you agreed.

Many months had gone by, and you two had become unstoppable with your knack for getting information and his knack for taking down even the biggest bounties. It was the talk amongst the raiders, the mercenaries, and the other bounty hunters. Many opposed you and wanted you out of the picture considering you made the Ghoul all the more dangerous than he already was, but you were untouchable when he was around. He knew what he had in his presence and he knew many would covet it, so he became possessive, a trait you didn’t think anyone, let alone this man, would convey toward you.

You couldn’t leave his sight for very long in fear of being hunted down, but you didn’t mind having the company. It beat being alone so much, and you were living in comfort, or in your case, as comfortable as it could get. The Ghoul never stayed in one place for too long, and it was a lifestyle you'd been accustomed to, so it wasn’t too farfetched. Whatever chem that he would inhale regularly from turning feral had come in abundance ever since you came along, so he decided that his lucky rabbit’s foot wasn’t going anywhere, but that was a front overall.

Deep down, despite the way he lived his life here after the bombs dropped, there was an emptiness, and he tried to fight the desire to fill that void for the longest time. Running into you piqued his curiosity and offered him an outward motivation more than anything, but slowly over time, he began to truly enjoy your company. He’d never admit it to you or anyone else, but the way he fought for you to keep you safe spoke louder than anything he could verbally say.

It had been almost a year traveling in the Ghoul’s company when you found yourselves in a quiet time between bounties. You’d just gotten your weapons upgraded and some better clothes that didn’t have as many holes and tears in them, it had been a good haul you and the Ghoul pulled in with this contract.

You both sat beside a fire you’d built and drank the slightly cold bottle of Nuka-Cherry you managed to get ahold of from part of someone's collection, you wouldn't soon forget the heartbreak in their eyes when the Ghoul offered for you to raid their collections after tying them up and bringing in their bounty.

The Ghoul stared at you from across the fire, watching you carefully as you lay on the ground, staring up at a book you managed to find in an old shop. It helped pass the time between jobs, but you seemed a bit distracted as you read the same paragraph over and over again. You also had a good sense of when he was staring at you, so without looking away from the page, you smiled.

“If you got something to say, I suggest you say it before I reread the same page again,” you teased, then turned your head to face him.

He didn't budge, he remained fixated on you as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His eyes focused on you but he hadn't said much since you arrived in the small rundown shack.

You waved your hand at him and looked as if you were waiting for him to speak. “Radroach got your tongue?” You laughed and went back to your book, but that's when he decided to speak up.

“Nah, just curious.”

“About…?”

“You.”

You scoffed. “Me? Nothing to be curious about, really.”

The Ghoul stared at you, wondering if you'd let your mysteriousness slip. “Course there's somethin’ to be curious about. Haven't told me nothin’ about you since we joined up.”

“I could say the same about you,” you pointed out, deflecting. “Didn't think we had to sit in a circle and share icebreakers.”

He scoffed and shook his head at your words, but he didn't seem at all annoyed by your jokes. “Well, suppose we all have things to hide.” He looked away from you and surveyed the perimeter, making sure you two were still alone.

You turned your head to look at him and then pushed yourself up, spun to face him, and sat with your legs crossed as you placed the book off to the side. “Okay, then, what do you wanna know, like how I could have lost a limb when I was eight because I ran out into the road and wanted to get onto a trolley? Or what about-”

The Ghoul let out a sigh, one you had grown to know very well, but it only made you laugh. “Okay, fine, fine. What do you…wanna know?”

His eyes, the most human-looking eyes you’d ever seen on a ghoul, stared into what felt like your soul as he sat back and thought of a question. “What happened to your family?”

You swallowed and let out a sigh of your own, but you figured one day someone would ask, so you braced yourself for whenever it came. “We lived in Shady Sands, it was nice, I loved it, I remember being really happy. Till we suffered the bombing. It took out my parents and my brother. My brother saved my life, if it weren’t for him, I’d be dead.”

The Ghoul didn’t give condolences, he didn’t feel awkward now that something heavy had come up in conversation, but there was understanding in his eyes now that he had some understanding of who you were.

“I do what I can to survive because they wanted me to, so I mean… I know I’ve done some things people would consider horrendous, but I’m not that person anymore who shies away from it. They’d understand, I think.” You stared off at the flickering embers of the fire, and the pain swept through as you thought of them, your family. You didn’t like to do it, you were sure they wouldn’t recognize you anymore, that you weren’t the person you used to be. But times changed, and people changed.

The Ghoul cleared his throat and gestured toward the horizon. “Radstorm rollin’ in, we should get inside the shack,” he huffed and stood from his seat on the ground, then kicked out the flames of the fire. He gathered his things while you did the same, packing up your things and stuffing them in your pack, and you hid inside while you fortified the area as best as you could.

The storm wouldn’t bother him much but he knew that you weren’t immune to what he could withstand, so he ushered you inside and made sure that there wasn’t anything cracked or damaged that could allow any of the radiation to filter through.

“Should be good till it passes,” he grumbled as he looked out the partially boarded-up window. “Shouldn’t be too bad for you, smoothie,” he teased, knowing you would appreciate the nickname that most ghouls called humans.

But you didn’t laugh or joke back in return, your mind was elsewhere as you stared through the board in the window, the rolling green clouds pushed through and made their way toward you.

He walked up beside you and contemplated what was to get your attention, so he placed a gloved hand carefully on your elbow, which caused you to turn and look at him in confusion. “You good?”

You nodded even though you weren’t sure if you had been alright or not, but he wouldn't understand, he wouldn't want you, you figured. A small smile tugged the corner of your lips and you shrugged. “I'm alright.”

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter,” he warned as his eyes narrowed and he knew you well enough now to read your body language, he could see it all over you. “My lucky rabbit ain't too happy, I can tell.”

“You don't gotta worry about me,” you assured with a small wave of your hand, dismissing the thought completely.

His hand was now on your arm, resting there comfortably while it tightened its grip slightly, and this was only the second time he'd ever put his hands on you in such a tender way. You'd thought about the first time it ever happened, and you thought for a long time about it, how good it felt. You'd wanted more, but you knew that would be crossing the line.

“Sure I do, you always looked out for me despite not knowin’ a damn thing, you just blindly followed me. I ain't used to that kind of loyalty, but I ain't gonna take it for granted neither,” the Ghoul explained. “Now, tell me what's wrong.”

You sighed and continued to stare out the window. “If I did then you'd leave, cowboy, trust me.”

Once again, he scoffed, mainly at the cheesy nickname you gave him, but also the ridiculous notion that he'd let you out of his sight. “Ain't gonna happen, bunny,” he shot back, using the nickname you hated but secretly loved hearing him say.

“If I say it, you can't get upset.” The rumble of the storm neared closer, the colors turned darker in hue and flashed a bright green, illuminating your skin through the cracks of the window. “Promise?”

The Ghoul nodded and stared down at you, waiting for your ‘profound confession’ that you were too afraid to say aloud.

“I've been… lonely for quite some time while on the move, and sometimes it's just a feeling I get, but… When you touched my arm, it felt nice.” You swallowed, your mouth dry from the nerves. “I know it's a lot and I wouldn't suggest it with anyone else, but, we've known each other for a year now, and if you had any… urges, a craving of intimacy or anything, I could…help.”

The Ghoul was in shock by your statement and had no idea how to react, so he remained standing beside you in complete silence as he stared down at you. You refused to meet his gaze and couldn't look him in the eyes after that, afraid that he'd belittle you or cut you off altogether.

“It was an idea, a stupid one at that, but it doesn't have to change anything between us, we can drop it and pretend it never happened. No harm, no foul.”

And still, he continued to remain there, rooted to the spot as he played your words over again in his head. Finally, there was something that clicked in his head. “You're sayin’ that… you'd want to get… intimate… with me?” There had been offers given to him through the years, and there had been times when things were rough, but having you here right now telling him you had more than just a quick fuck in mind was not what he was expecting to hear. What was going on in his head, you wanted to know.

You finally turned to him, your expressions carried the shame, the embarrassment, all of the feelings you'd been suffering through during his silence. “That's what I'm saying. It's just like our proposal of helping each other out, it's just another version of that, if it's easier to look at it that way.”

The truth was he hadn't been intimate in a long, long time. It wasn't something that came naturally to him anymore, it was but a distant memory of the time he had back on this earth before everything was destroyed. But you offering something like that, you of all people, it was a deliciously tempting offer that he maybe shouldn't refuse.

“A proposal,” he reiterated as his hand slid up your forearm slightly, his eyes flickered down to your face to gauge your reaction.

You smiled warmly at his attempt, and maybe it was an odd offer, but it seemed he was considering it. “We don't have to–”

“I ain't done this in… a very long time, bunny. I ain't the kind of ghoul who can supply that lovey feelin’ you're lookin’ for.”

“It doesn't have to be that, exactly. Besides, you already offer me protection, this would be just… an added bonus.”

He thought about it, truly thought about it, and the rumbling outside was drowned out by one thing that pushed forth in his mind: you.

“I ain't sure how–”

“I could help,” you offered with a soft tone, wondering if he'd allow such a thing as you took a small step closer. “Again, we don't have to do anything, it was just something that passed my mind. No harm done.”

The Ghoul's hand pulled at your arm, which made you look up at him, questioning his intentions as his gaze went from hard and stoic to softened and tender. It was a strange look to see on his face, but you welcomed it nonetheless. You stepped closer to him, filling the gap between your bodies as you lingered for a moment, but he closed that space and looked down at you in a new light. He tried to channel that human side of himself when he was known as Cooper Howard. It was an old name, an ancient person that hadn't existed in years, but he was buried deep down within him. He had his moments of weakness, which belonged to the man he used to be, but maybe if you were here to remind him what it felt like… how could he refuse?

“You ain't gonna tell a soul about this…” It wasn't a question, it was a warning.

“Of course not, cowboy, our little secret,” you assured him with a smile.

That’s all it took to allow him to delve into that buried side within him, his hand lifted and gently placed it on your shoulder, then slowly skated down to your collarbone. He caressed the softness of your skin, allowing himself to become acquainted with your body slowly but surely, all while trying to remember how to make this enjoyable for the both of you. It was a learning curve, but the way you'd already begun responding to his touch only urged him to continue.

You began to shrug out of your jacket which left you in your semi decent tank top, which clung to your body and accentuated your natural curves and dips. The Ghoul couldn't help but watch you eagerly, getting lost in the way you were taking things slow on his behalf as his hands slid around your waist. You wouldn't pressure him, or rush him, you'd allow him to do what he wanted as he explored what made you tick and what turned you on.

Soon, he had guided you toward the floor where you laid out your blanket in an attempt to make it as comfortable as possible. Per his request, he had you lay back while he hovered over you, his hands easily removing the rest of your clothing –with your assistance, of course.

Seeing you there in just a bra and underwear was a lot for him to take in, but he swallowed that image of you and couldn't find the strength to take his eyes off of you. “Damn, sweetheart…” He muttered as he grabbed you, squeezed you, and did what he could to lose himself in you. He wasn't sure what to start with first, so he looked to you for guidance.

With a smile, you grabbed his hand and pulled him closer to you, looking into his eyes while you smiled softly. “Is it okay if I help?” You asked softly.

The Ghoul didn't speak, he just nodded in response and hovered closer toward you, but when you captured his lips between yours, it was a surprise to be sure. He pushed himself firmly against you, keeping himself propped up with his arm while he placed the other around your neck, his fingers softly stroking your jaw as you kissed. His tongue pushed past your lips and swirled around in your mouth, but that smile he wore just made you feel all the more turned on by him. While you kissed him, your hand guided his toward your inner thighs, allowing him to feel how you'd already soaked through your underwear.

He was impressed by how turned on you'd been and he'd done close to nothing, so to feel his handiwork, he slipped two of his fingers beneath the hem and slipped them through your slick. “Fuck, darlin’, you're so wet…”

He wasn't sure if you'd want him to touch you more between your legs, but your hand was already guiding him to push those fingers inside of you, curling into your cunt.

“Oh fuck, cowboy,” you sighed against his mouth, your eyes closed while you felt your body tense from the touch. It had been ages since you felt this good, and he'd barely begun.

While he dipped his fingers deep within you, he could feel himself growing painfully hard, and he thanked whomever above for the fact he still had his equipment to work with because soon he'd need to bury himself inside of you. He wasn't sure what was taking over right now, but the way you moaned out and moved your hips in tandem with his hand was a lot to handle for him. He'd want more, needed more.

“Want me to keep goin’...?”

“Yeah, like that,” you begged while your hand began to rub circles against your clit, helping yourself get to that point where all you could feel was the growing sensation that burned in your lower belly. It had been ages since you had someone pay attention to you like this, but the way he moved his hands seemed that he hadn't been prepared for something like this.

“Hey, cowboy, want me to… show you some attention?” You offered softly, smiling up at him as you pushed yourself up, leaning on your elbows.

He slowed his actions and slowly curled his fingers inside of you, watching as your face fell and you lost your thoughts, only focusing on his ers. fingers inside of you. His hollowed eyes stared at you and considered your offer. Was he ready for something like this? He was silent while he tilted his head, looking over your body as you lay there before him.

Wordlessly, he sat back and shifted his weight on his legs, allowing you the space you needed to do what you needed to do. He didn’t say a word as he watched you fumble with his gun belts, but it was entertaining to watch as you seemed more nervous than he was, yet internally, he felt the urge to panic. But he wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction, not even you. He pulled off his other glove slowly, watching your eyes as you stared intently at the action, and he was curious if you liked his hands and how your gaze would be so fixated on them.

“C’mon then,” he said as he slowly shrugged out of the weathered duster jacket, “you gonna give me some attention or were you just talkin’ big?” He always poked at you, toyed with you, and loved seeing how you reacted. Most times you paid him no mind, you just knew he was a big talker with the actions to back it up, but now, you were the one who could show him just what he needed.

When you leaned forward to go for his pants, you took notice of the body language he displayed; how his body tensed up whenever you’d touch him, how his breathing became almost nonexistent whenever you leaned in close, or how it seemed that he was too nervous to even lay a hand on you. It was fine though, you were helping each other out and that’s all you hoped you could do, so you didn’t leave him in suspense as you allowed him to spring free from his pants. You weren’t sure what you were expecting when you first started, but it definitely wasn’t this, and you wouldn’t complain. A smile crept on your lips as you stared at him, your face lowered ever so slightly between his legs, wanting any sign of consent or objection. When all he did was stare, your tongue darted out to moisten your lips while your hand slowly grasped him.

He tried not to let the feeling catch him off guard, but to be touched like that after so long, hell, he was in heaven. His breath caught and he sucked in a deep breath while your mouth slowly lowered onto him, the warmth and wetness that traveled down his length sent shivers up his spine while he tried not to groan out loud. Slowly you lowered and raised your mouth on him, your hand following closely as you stroked him. He lurched forward for the first few deep plunges you made, but after that, he was almost putty in your hands while he leaned his head back and allowed himself to indulge in the way you were making him feel. His hand instinctively traveled to the back of your neck, then slid through your hair as he grabbed a handful of it. He wanted you to go faster, to bring him over that edge of the high he was chasing, but was that the right thing to do?

As if you understood what he was feeling, you picked up your pace and went faster, your mouth and tongue worked expertly together, until after a bit you pulled your mouth off with a slight pop, and you noticed how the Ghoul convulsed at the loss of your mouth. You weren’t sure how this would play out, but all you could think of was how much you wanted to feel him split you open.

“Can I ride you?”

This was a question he hadn’t expected. “I beg your pardon?”

“I want to ride you, you know, sit in your lap and do it like that, is that okay?”

Oh, that’s what you wanted, damn, he was so out of touch with this and didn’t mean to look foolish, but with simulated confidence, he shot you a smirk and patted his half-bared thigh, beckoning you to him. “Then c’mere pretty thing,” he huffed.

Smiling, you crawled over to him and straddled his lap, your eyes never leaving his while you grabbed his cock and steadied it. You both watched each other as you lowered yourself onto him, and you couldn’t recall who made the loudest moan, you or him. The feeling of him stretching you out after being so empty for so long was a feeling you wanted to hang onto, it was the way you slid onto him with slight difficulty that caused you to bite your lip a bit harder than anticipated.

Feeling the way your walls clung to him, pulled him deep inside of you while you sunk deeper into his lap, you were afraid to move in case he was in over his head, but you reached out for his hands and placed them on your breasts. Soft words of encouragement like, ‘Touch me, please,’ and ‘Go harder, I’m begging you,’ had helped him enormously. You guided his hands across your body by showing him what you liked and what you wanted him to do, so he took that as his cue and allowed his fingers to skate across your supple skin. The difference of texture against you had lit a fire beneath your skin, feeling how rough and calloused he was as his fingers grabbed you firmly at your hips, his nails digging slightly into you.

He sucked in a breath of air again and groaned out. “Fuck, you feel damn good,” he murmured while he allowed you to fuck yourself on him. He got the feeling of your rhythm, the way you bounced on him as you lifted yourself, then fell back onto him as he pushed himself deep within you. You could feel the intense pressure of him pushing himself against your cervix, but the sting of being stretched was still prominent, and that’s all you could focus on.

You cried out when he finally stopped you from moving and held you in place firmly, both hands planted on your hips while he thrust into you as the heels of his boots dug into the ground beneath him. “Oh my god,” you whimpered out, your hands placed on his ravaged chest, trying to keep your balance while he helped you out.

The coil in your belly was tightening so much that you thought you’d explode, but you curled forward against him as you reached between your bodies and began to rub yourself, to which he marveled at the noises that came from your mouth. So he opted to push your hand aside and tried to replicate the movements you made against your clit, sloppy but small, tight circles with the pad of his thumb. If this was ecstasy, you never wanted to come back to the harsh reality of the wastelands again, you could get used to being here night after night with him like this, you loved the fantasy you began to build in your mind.

“I ain’t gonna last like this,” the Ghoul warned between ragged breaths, one hand on your breast that popped out from your bra while the other was still holding onto your hip. His thrusts became inconsistent, signaling that he was close.

“Please, cum for me, oh shit-” It was difficult to string together a full sentence, your thoughts were muddled while all you could focus on was that bliss that filled your body.

You wished you could have gone longer, but you were hit with a powerful wave as your orgasm washed over you, and that tightly wound coil snapped inside of you. Your body hunched forward against the Ghoul’s chest while your hands lay flat against his abdomen, trying your best to catch your breath while his hips jerked, and with several more hard thrusts, he let himself go and pushed himself deep inside of you, holding his cock in place as he released what he’d been holding in. His bourbon-colored eyes held your gaze as you both sat in silence save for the heavy breathing, your hearts pounding within your chests as you remained stuck together, the glistening of your skin from the sweat that caused your hair to cling to your face… It was charming, beautiful even, to him.

When you finally had the energy to shift off of his lap, you pushed yourself onto the blanket as you lay beside him as he hiked up his pants, barely putting any effort into moving himself as he allowed himself to lay back, partially laying on the destroyed wood floor, halfway on your blanket. You both didn’t say much after that, but you kept looking over at him, your eyes drinking in the sight of him while it seemed he was lost deep in thought.

Maybe he regretted what you two did, but you knew you never would, you two had an understanding of one another. One that many others probably wouldn’t understand, but it didn’t matter if they did, you were content with having this for yourself, just a small slice of heaven you could recall when you wanted to escape the harshness of reality. This wasn’t about love, no, it couldn’t be, this was just something to take the edge off for you both.

The Ghoul had been looking at you while you spaced off, your eyes fluttered close and then snapped back open. You were exhausted, but you were forcing yourself to remain alert. The storm could pass any moment now, or become worse, you needed to-

“Hey, you should get some sleep,” the Ghoul instructed as he sat up, looking down at you while he rested his arms on his knees.

You grunted in protest. “What if we need to move because of the storm?”

He just scoffed at your response. “You’ll be fine, little bunny, just rest. We got a while till it clears, we ain’t gonna be caught off guard.” He leaned back a bit to stretch his limbs, allowing that calmness to wash over him.

You wanted to fight him on it, but you were just too tired, you could feel how heavy your eyes were becoming, so you yawned and sighed instead. “Alright, fine, but if anything happens… wake me.” He nodded in response, but you reached out and gently touched his arm, pulling his attention back to you. “Whatever this was, I had a good time tonight, so thank you, cowboy.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Sure, didn’t know what the hell I was doin’ after so long, but thanks for not callin’ me out too harshly on it.”

You shrugged and decided to pull some of your clothes back on despite feeling the dampness from the sweat, or the stickiness from your shared orgasms. “Ain’t no shame in it, cowboy, so long as you had fun…” you smirked as you balled up your jacket and placed it under your head. “Plus it seemed you caught on eventually.” Your voice faded slightly while your eyes closed, but you were still listening to him breathing, your body closer toward his to feel that sense of comfort you grew to appreciate from him.

After a moment, your breathing slowed, and your chest rose and fell gently while the Ghoul stared at you, admiring you in the sickly glow of green that illuminated your silhouette from outside. He smiled a little to himself while he twisted around to reach for his coat, then gently draped it over your body. He was surprised at himself for acting the way he was, but you weren’t awake to see this side of him, the side he hid from everyone and most days himself. While you slept, he kept watch as best as he could until he felt the same firm grip of sleep that slowly took hold, and as he leaned back against the softness of your shared blanket, his smile grew.

He wasn’t sure what the future held for either of you, but after tonight, the Ghoul had a strange feeling that things would be more interesting between you both, but for now, he’d bask in the feeling that this evening brought.

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scarletttries · 16 days

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When Fallout Characters Fall In Love... (Fallout Show Request)

Pairings: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Reader, Maximus x Reader, Norm x Reader

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has sent in a request for the Fallout show, please keep them coming as this is definitely the show that I'm thinking about the most at the moment! Also let me know if you want a part two of these headcanons or something similar :)

The Ghoul:

- Cooper Howard couldn't put his finger on exactly when he had accepted that the life he now led would be one devoid of love, but it was a hollow feeling he carried in his chest wherever the wasteland took him. Maybe it was in the decades he'd spent wandering and gaining a reputation as a heartless cowboy without an ounce of mercy. Or the fact that he hadn't met anyone that had stirred up a single emotion inside him, fearing the aching betrayal of his wife would haunt him even as lifetimes passed. Maybe it came to him in the way he flinched each time he caught his reflection in the few unbroken windows he passed, flesh slowly forming caverns and creases where once there were only the faintest of lines that showed endless signs of life. The wasteland was no place for love. That's what he had decided.

- But even in the fall of civilization there's room for a surprise, and you were certainly one of those..

- He heard rumour of you before your bounty crossed his desk, a runaway scientist from a mysterious body known only as The Institute, a target to everyone for the sheer volume of classified knowledge you might possess.

- A life on the run was no easy one, and Cooper knew that better than anyone, so it didn't take long for him to track you down to a small town just on the outskirts of the radiation's no man's land. His gun was cocked as he strutted towards the half open door of the rundown house he'd narrowed your location down to, glancing at the poster in his hand one last time before he burst inside. Even from the poorly illustrated version of you, he could see your eyes were kind, almost hopeful, like you still believed science could make right what had gone so wrong in the last 200 years. He almost felt a tinge of guilt as he steeled himself for a fight, saying a silent prayer that you wouldn't be behind the walls in front of him.

- Stepping in carefully he expected traps, or an army of robots to jump to arms, but instead he found you travelling alone, a small satchel of papers clutched in your arms as you stared him down with a calm resolve that caught him more off guard than any weapon.

"Do you still believe there's hope for this world Mr Howard?" Your voice was soft, not the trembling fear he was so used to hearing. You stared up at him without a trace of disgust in your expression, your eyes locked on his as he considered your question, and then lowered his weapon.

"And what if I do?" His heart ached at the question, so hardened by years of cynicism that even the idea of hope and goodness were almost too heavy to bear. He felt more human than he had in years as you slowly inched towards him, the creaking floorboards beneath you cutting through a tense silence that had The Ghoul feeling like he was back on a movie set, everything so perfectly orchestrated to have his stomach in knots. And then you extended your hand to him and gave him the most genuine smile he could remember receiving in this whole sorry chapter of his after-life,

"Then I think we could really make a difference. Together." Your pip-boy screeched as his irradiated hand stretched out to reach yours, but you didn't flinch, gently squeezing the twisted flesh as you shook on what you bought felt in the depths of your souls was going to be a meaningful partnership.

- It would be a straight forward life trying to use your research to get the world back on track for there to be joy and peace again. But with The Ghoul by your side you can expect; a personal bodyguard who cares more about your safety than his own by far, a gleaming look of pride in his eyes any time you tell him which Cooper Howard film was your favourite, the slow and steady acceptance that he is still worthy of love even in his new twisted form, and Cooper being endlessly grateful that you are the person who wants to give that love to him.

Maximus:

- All Maximus had ever wanted was to be a knight of the Brotherhood. He wakes up every morning and does his best every day just to try and earn his spot in this family of welded metal and unflinching loyalty. It wasn't until you arrived on the base that he started to realise there were other ways he might form a family.

- A nearby village had been half destroyed by raiders until the Brotherhood stepped in, clearing out the violent scavengers and bringing anyone with skills they could utilise back to base for assessment. Maximus was sitting alone, nursing the most recent wounds inflicted by his so-called brothers when he watched you march in alongside two soldiers, the final evacuee of your faded community, a distance in your eyes that he felt akin with from his own home's destruction. You could feel his eyes on you before you spotted him, a rag damp with blood pressed to his nose as he sat huddled against a corrugated iron shack.

- Despite the sheer joylessness of the situation, Max couldn't stop himself from sporting a smile, waving at you like you had locked eyes across the schoolyard not some barren military base. Whatever he hoped for in that moment seemed to pay off as you waved back, a small laugh escaping your lips at the absurdity of his blood soaked grin. He watched as the knights around you escorted you to the medical tent for a check up, waiting until they left their guard posts beside you to sneak behind the off-white fabric, following some unknown instinct he'd never felt call to him before. You bolted upright where you perched on one of the medical beds as he appeared, visibly relaxing when you recognised him from outside and once again waving in his direction. His mouth worked faster than his brain in that moment, heart hammering in his chest as the words gushed out with his new found affections,

"I used to live in Shady Sands. I know what it's like to have your home destroyed, your family hurt, everything changing all at once. But you're safe here with the Brotherhood, and even if it doesn't feel like it today, things are going to be okay eventually. Also I'm Maximus and if you ever need to talk to someone, I'm, like, around all the time, and no one else really wants to talk to me so I'm probably going to be available... " He trailed off as he tried to recover what had ended up a far more embarrassing sentence than he'd hoped, his lungs burning as he realised he'd forgotten to take a breath through his whole winding spiel. But when you smiled at him any shame seemed to float away, and as you patted the bed and nodded for him to take a seat beside you, the once lonely squire suddenly felt much closer to finding a family than he had surrounded by his brothers.

- As you settle into life on the base, you and Maximus only grow closer. Expect; late nights of sneaking out of your dorm so you and Max can stare up the stars and plot your escape from this life, fantasising about what a life beyond these walls and this world could be like for the two of you, someone who has your back no matter how bad things get and how low you feel, and truly some of the most god awful flirting you will ever hear.

Norm:

- Growing up in the Vault, Norm had always been told the value of belonging to a community, and how everyone in the vault was just a big happy family. But none of that stopped Norm feeling like an outsider, like he didn't quite operate on the same wavelength as the rest of the cheerful strangers he shared his deep underground walls with. After a few of the annual exchanges between vaults, he had all but given up on hoping to meet anyone he felt he could actually feel close to.

- When his overseer father had finally decided it was his turn to continue the vault's legacy and be part of what Norm considered an archaic tradition of arranged marriages between the linked vaults, Norm couldn't have been more resistant. He pleaded for the council to reject his nomination, begging them not to force some young hopeful to be subjected to his notable lack of enthusiasm for the rest of their life in this dutiful swap, but with limited options of eligible young men, he soon found himself staring down the doors of your vault. The suit previously used by his fellow bachelors had been tailored to within an inch of its life to try and fit his slight frame, the shoulders still feeling like they hung off him, threatening to swallow him up along with ground as he watched the round door slowly start to roll open.

- He thought this whole thing was stupid and outdated, and he knew there was no way he could actually find someone to love and love him in return behind those doors, so why was his stomach so full of butterflies as slowly your face started to appear in the artificial light of Vault 33. He waited to see you throw him a false smile, going through the motions as much as he had planned to, or even a look of disappointment that he was not the man you had been picturing as the door crept open. Instead he really thought he saw sincerity in your eyes, a thoughtful understanding as he choked out his name, his stammering not going unnoticed by his sister who quietly chuckled behind him.

"It's really nice to meet you, Norm." You spoke each word with intention, like it wasn't just a rehearsed greeting but an honest confession that sent sparks flying in the air between you.

- Suddenly the pressure of matrimony didn't feel so all consuming. And maybe this system was more advanced than he had appreciated. And there might be a small chance that he wasn't destined to spend his life feeling like he was on the outside, that he might finally have someone that could take him as he is, darkness and light, for better or for worse.

- Whether you stay in the vaults, or make your move to the surface world, with Norm by your side you can expect: Sarcastic comments muttered under his breath at inopportune moments just to see the way you fail to contain your laughter, being the sounding board for all of each other's thoughts and feelings no matter how serious or silly they might be, Norm clinging to your side through everything knowing that he only feels himself when he's stood in your light, and being the one person Norm would do absolutely anything for, bringing out the bravery and intelligence that was always just below the surface of this sweet man.

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geeks-universe · 21 days

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The Fallen pt. 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Cooper Howard x F!Angel!Reader

A/N: This contains smut.

Cooper was angry.

No, he’d been angry when the shit-for-brains had the audacity to look at you like he was stripping your body bare with his eyes.

Now, he was furious.

Rage was an easy emotion, a comfortable one. For years it’d been his only companion, and slipping back into its familiar embrace felt almost natural to him.

Lucy had been too preoccupied with saying goodbye to her lover boy to see the carefully lidded fury, a snake in the grass ready to strike.

You’d noticed though.

Of course you noticed, just like you did every other damn thought that crossed his mind. Maybe you’d noticed the hundred different ways he’d imagined popping that weasel’s head off, of making you pay for the tiniest bit of himself he couldn’t let die.

When you’d proclaimed a shelter for the night- a sad little shack with three walls- Lucy had wandered off with some lame excuse of looking for supplies, the dog trotting happily along with her. Or maybe it was checking the perimeter. He didn’t care, hoped she died, really.

You set a lantern on the ground between the two of you, laying out your pack to get comfortable on the floor. Cooper didn’t bother, couldn’t sit down while the fire burned through his veins. It roared through every inch of his body, consuming him with a vexation he hadn’t felt in a long time.

That fucking roach should’ve lost his hands for touching you, for thinking himself deserving of your silky skin.

“You should rest.”

He barked a laugh- a harsh, aggravated noise wrangled from his chest.

“Ain’t as delicate as you.”

It was meant to be an insult, and fuck didn’t that just piss him off that you let it slide right off you. Unbothered, the same way you’d been the day he first met you.

The same way you’d been when that rat had scurried to you, vying for your attention.

“Coop-“

“So now you want to speak to me?” He straightened his back, standing to his full height as he glared down at your sitting figure.

It was an intimidation tactic, and he knew you well enough to know that it wouldn’t have the effect he was hoping, but it would make you privy to his frustrations.

“Seems like I’m a great choice when I’m the only one.”

Confusion furrowed your brows, quickly replaced by understanding. You let out a low sigh, eyes tracing Cooper’s figure in the dim light.

He didn’t like that you could be so calm, that you didn’t feel his wrath.

“You’re jealous.”

He snarled, angry at the insinuation- even more so that it was correct. It wasn’t just jealousy though.

You were his.

He hadn’t had something worth holding onto in a long damn time, and nobody would take what was his.

“If I was jealous everytime you opened those pretty legs for someone else, I’d never get any rest.”

Your eyes flashed- hurt, followed quickly by anger.

Good.

He wanted you angry.

Wanted you to feel the inferno in your chest, the way he did- to let it consume you in a blaze of abandon, come undone at the seams and show the person beneath.

“We’re not doing this,” you stated bluntly, still holding onto the last bit of restraint.

That wouldn’t do.

He wanted you unraveled, raw.

“Runnin’ won’t change a damn thing.”

Your hands pressed into your knees, a quick outlet of irritation before you stood up. Your eyes were still burning, but it wasn’t enough. You still had too much control.

“You’re such an ass.”

The smirk he flashed was cruel.

“‘M honest,” he argued, “and doesn’t that just piss you off?”

Your chest expanded with a deep breath, eyes unfocused as you talked yourself down. He was so close, you just needed a little push.

“Poor little dove, just wants to run away from her problems like she did her family.”

Bingo.

Faster than a blink, you were in his face, your teeth bared as you raised a fist. He took the opportunity, watching your rage swelter as he grabbed hold of your wrist and twisted it behind you.

Fuck if your rage wasn’t the most intoxicating thing- the rise and fall of your chest hypnotic, the bare of your teeth captivating. You growled, an angry, ominous noise that went straight to his cock.

Your back was pressed against his front, moving with the rhythm of your erratic breathing, teasing friction exactly where he wanted you. His fingers pressed into your wrist harder, his mouth dangerously close to your ear. You weren’t fighting his hold- waiting, listening.

“Maybe that’s why your daddy left you too.”

Your eyes seemed to glow with an inner fire as you tried to pull your hand from him. He held fast though, put every ounce of his strength into restraining you. You lashed out like a wild animal, movements irrational and erratic. Finally, when it was clear you wouldn’t get free, you spit at him.

“Fuck you.”

It was the most vulgar he’d ever heard you, his wrath mixing with desire. Warmth seeped into his cheek where your spit had landed, and in a quick kick of his legs, he dropped you to your knees hard.

And wasn’t that a damn sight.

“If that sweet mouth wants to be filthy so bad, why don’t we put it to good use.”

He talked slow, controlled, as he grabbed your hair, pulling your head back. Wild eyes traced the arch of your back, the smooth column of your exposed neck.

He wanted to take a bite.

Your eyes were burning into his, an anger he’d never seen before from you shining through. You looked like you hated him, like you’d burn him on the spot.

“Now, sweetheart, try not to use your teeth.”

He clicked open his belt buckle, positioning himself just enough to free his hardened length. He’d dreamt of this moment, had pleasured himself to the thought of you more than he could count. The realization that it was coming to fruition had him so hard it fucking hurt. He took pride at the hunger in your gaze, your mouth still twisted in a scowl.

“Don’t act all innocent now.”

Almost as if it were a challenge, spurred on by your temper, your hot mouth took his entire length in one quick movement and-

Holy fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You were impossibly warm, your tongue sliding the length of his cock while your eyes, the ones he’d spent so long admiring, stared into his own. You held his gaze, refused to look away as you hollowed your cheeks, daring him to keep going.

He didn’t disappoint, wrapping his hand around your hair just like he’d done with his lasso. Sturdy hands forced you to take him to the base of his cock, before pulling back out. He thrusted back in hard, unconcerned with the tears that gathered in your eyes as he slammed into your throat.

You were defiant in the way you took him, forcing a harsher pace than the one he’d set.

This had to have been heaven. Nothing on Earth could possibly feel this fucking good. His thrusts were feral, unrelenting, and you were meeting them with ferocity, your pretty lips wrapped so perfectly around his cock.

“Takin’ me so good,” he groaned, his abdomen spasming. The sound of your gags filled the air, tearing through any restraint he might’ve had.

It’d been a while since he’d felt any sort of pleasure, even longer since it’d been anything more than a quick fuck.

This, though…

This was a whole different beast.

Fuck.

He wiped at the saliva coating his cheek, staring into your eyes as he slid his fingers into his mouth, tasting your sweetness.

You moaned, and he was sure this had to be a dream.

Reality had never been this nice.

“My filthy girl.”

Another moan, and this one almost dropped him to his knees. Pleasure tingled up his spine, down to the tips of his fingers and the bottom of his toes. His body was practically vibrating, begging him for release.

He didn’t want it yet, wanted this moment to last an eternity. His cock was pounding into your mouth, your fingernails digging into his thighs- sweet pain mixed with hot pleasure.

Please, his body sung, begging for a release he desperately fought against.

His pace was brutal, chasing the high he both wanted more than anything, and wished would never come.

It wasn’t enough.

This wasn’t enough.

He needed more.

Needed all of you.

“You are mine.”

He emphasized on a growl, savoring the taste of you that still lingered on his tongue.

He was desperate for more, for every damn piece of yourself you’d give him. It’d never be enough, not enough time in the universe to get the fill of you he wanted- needed.

He was close now, only holding on by sheer will, and all it took was a tilt of your head and a long, low moan of what he only prayed was his name around his length.

Like a band, his restraint snapped, his hips surging forward as he grunted your name.

Fuck.

Fuck, his body was singing.

Fuck. Curses, unbidden, were falling from his lips. Pleas, praises, worships- fuck it all he couldn’t even tell anymore, blinded by the feel of your mouth.

It was hot, so hot, and you swallowed every drop he gave you, his sensitive cock was twitching, his knees trembling with the effort to stay on his feet.

You kept going though, pulling your lips back just far enough to lick his length clean, your eyes still so full of fire, the same fire racing through his body.

It was so much, too much almost, and yet he gave into the torturous pleasure, desperate for you, for whatever you’d give him.

His hat had fallen off his head when he threw it back, his legs shaking as you finally pulled away- and despite the overstimulation, his body still chased your mouth, not ready to feel the empty, consuming void left in your wake.

A breath.

A moment to consider what he’d done, what he’d said to you. It wasn’t anger in your eyes- not regret, either. He couldn't read it, couldn't grasp what you were feeling.

His heart pounded against his chest, exhausted arms releasing your hair as he slowly, cautiously, raised his fingers to your cheeks. Tears had fallen from how far he’d thrust himself into you. He wiped them away, let them press into the fabric of his gloves, as the air grew thick.

It was a soft moment, a gentle one, and he didn’t want to be the first to pull away.

So you did.

You got your feet and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, your jaw flexing as you looked like you hadn’t just sucked him fucking dry.

He tucked himself back in his pants and secured his belt, waiting for you to speak. It was a tense moment, drawn longer by the way you wet your lips, like you wanted to talk but couldn’t quite form the words.

“Oh, fudge, are you two okay?”

His finger itched with the desire to end the vaultie for interrupting this, for causing you to cast a worried glance in her direction before your damn walls were thrown back up. Whatever you’d been about to say, you definitely wouldn’t now.

“Just peachy,” you smiled, one that screamed inauthenticity as you took a step to face away from Lucy.

“Think I need some air though, I’ll be back in a bit.”

It was a dismissal if he ever heard one, and the vault dweller had the good sense not to try and follow.

“Your hat’s on the ground, there.”

She went to pick it up for him, but he swooped down before she had the chance and deposited it on his head. On a good day he didn’t have the patience for her, but right now he was feeling downright venomous.

“So-“

“Leave it.”

His words were final, tone brokering no argument. That was the only bit of grace he’d give her- one more word and his reply would be a bullet. She understood, could see the tension in his stance and gave him the space he desired.

But it wasn’t space he wanted.

It was you.

It was your voice, so gentle and melodic.

It was your touch, sweet and resolute- full of heat, of passion, of something that resembled life.

Instead, he got the cold, hard ground and a head full of vicious thoughts. Why did you plague his thoughts the way you did? Why did you make him feel so fucking human?

He didn’t want to.

Didn’t want that, any of it.

Not the fucking feelings, not the guilt, not the stupid fucking spark of hope in his cold, dead heart.

Let Cooper Howard die.

But it wasn’t that simple.

All of the anger in the world couldn’t turn his affection for you to hatred. It was a stubborn thing, and a solid one. No amount of pressure could bend it. He’d just learned to live with it- a deficiency he’d carry for the rest of his miserable time on Earth.

He fell to the ground there, not bothering with getting comfortable, almost like it was a punishment. Truth be told, he didn’t have the fight in his veins anymore, didn’t wish to have to struggle to get comfortable.

He was ready to lie down and accept what he earned.

His eyes slipped shut, and though the vault dweller fell into a light sleep easily, he could not. His mind simply wouldn’t stop, kept replaying that look in your eyes.

What did it mean?

Did you hate him?

He wouldn’t blame you, could never fault you for hating the monstrous thing he’d become. He’d bet you’d have fallen in love with him before- Cooper Howard, the gentleman.

That was the kind of thing you deserved, the kind of life he’d dreamt about with you.

He’d love you in those dreams, so unconditionally and flawlessly, with no restraint or regret. He’d praised the ground you walked on, and would cherish every moment he had with you.

Not now.

He couldn’t love that way, not anymore- didn’t want to, didn’t remember how, if he were honest.

There was a quiet, tempered crunch of sand, a boot moving slowly towards him.

He knew those steps though, knew that it was you who approached him. He kept his eyes shut, curious as to what your intent was.

If you killed him, so be it.

“Cooper,” you breathed.

It was a prayer, an admission, and a promise. He didn’t reply, didn’t even crack open an eye, just listened with all the ravenous hunger of a starving man, hoping you would say more.

You didn’t.

A shadow casted from behind his lids as you knelt down, reminiscent of earlier, but of your own volition. This wasn’t with rage, with an animalistic hunger.

This was with compassion, with something that resembled fondness.

A soft exhale left your parted lips, and if he imagined hard enough, he could see the expression you wore. It was kind, open- something he rarely saw anymore.

A weight settled on his chest then, your head pressed snug against the tattered shirt he wore. An arm wrapped around his middle, holding him close to your warmth. The words you spoke in then sounded lyrical, more natural than anything you’d ever said before.

He didn’t know the meaning, wasn’t even sure what language it was- but a heat emanated from the feather he’d tucked into his chest pocket, and he understood that it was you sharing a piece of yourself.

He listened to the beating of his own heart, the slowing of your breaths, as he felt a peace wash over himself that he thought was long gone.

There, in the dim glow of a worn lantern, with the most beautiful soul he’d ever had the pleasure of meeting tucked into his side, Cooper Howard emerged- the man he was- if only for a moment.

Tags: @lacontroller1991 @giggle-shade

#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard insert #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #fallout x reader #fallout reader insert #cooper howard imagine #the ghoul imagine #fallout imagine

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sixx-sixx-sixx · 1 month

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THE TRADER’S DAUGHTER — cooper “the ghoul” howard x female!oc

EDIT; FOLLOW @bonafideyapper FOR FUTURE PARTS

warnings(?): dbf!cooper, female!oc, oc is described as brown eyed (but feel free to picture whatever you want), proofread to the best of my ability (correcting capitalization is not my priority on my phone, this is hard enough to format as is), this series will have smut at some point but let me work up to writing that (meaning, let me smoke this joint and see where the wind takes me), there’s allusion to smut in this towards the end but it’s nothing wild

(this is part one of some) - part 2

Daisy hadn’t seen Cooper for a very, very long time. She’d never forgotten the charismatic cowboy that told her stories of the old world and of his encounters with creatures in the wasteland. The ghoul that would bring her little trinkets from his travels, gifting her a pearl necklace for her 10th birthday. A single pearl on a dainty silver chain that she would wear every day until it wore out. She was 13 when that happened, and was utterly devastated. Thankfully, she had charmed a local boy for a new chain, sneaking behind her dad’s back to go on a few dates with the kid. She’s continue to flirt with men and make empty promises to them to replace the chain each time it broke.

Cooper had gotten himself into some thick shit, spending a good time locked up by some raiders and other bullshit that got him sidetracked. On the other side of the goddamn wasteland, on the fucking east coast. How did he even get to the fucking east coast? By the time he made it back to the trading post, over a decade had passed, and it showed in the size of the once-familiar settlement. More gambling, more fighting in the streets, whole lotta bad shit that he didn’t have time to get involved with. He made his way through the town, his gaze trained on the old trading post at the center of town. He took careful notice of how men sneered at him as he passed by them, mumbling some racist bullshit about his ghoulishness.

Fuck them, he thought as he stepped up to the door of the trading post. He opened the door to hear the old bell jingle to alert his presence, watching as a young woman walked out from the back room with a routine “Welcome to Jo’s Shack, what can I get you?” leaving her pretty pink lips.

Daisy was almost in shock, seeing the ghoul standing in her doorway. She had assumed the worst over the years, as his visits had become less and less until they were not at all. She figured he was dead, shriveled up and baking in the sun. Or worse, she worried he had gone feral, which was always going to be inevitable in his case. Either way, she would keep extra chems stocked for the day he returned.

Cooper strolled towards the counter and looked at the girl, recognizing those big brown eyes from a mile away. “Hey, little flower. Your daddy around?” He asked her, his eyes flickering down to look at the pearl around her neck. Huh, he didn’t know she’d have kept it all those years. Pretty things were hard to keep around these parts.

Daisy’s face broke out into a grin and she gave him a little nod, leaning forward to get a good look at him. “Sure is, I’ll go get him for you. he’s not gonna believe this.” She had to fight to maintain her composure and keep her excitement at bay, going through the back room and up the stairs to the second floor of the shack to where her father was sleeping. In the ghoul’s absence, Daisy had grown to be a respectable trader, taking over the face of her father’s shop after growing up learning from the best. Although the population was tougher, she was just as tough, and nobody dared to fuck with Jo’s Shack or the woman running the place.

She stepped back out to the main room and leaned against the newly-reinforced counter, a bright smile on her face as she gazed up at him. He was just as handsome as she remembered, though she was never truly able to capture how his eyes lit up at the sight of her.

“Flower, you are just as pretty as a peach.” Cooper flashed her a wide grin, unashamedly flirting with the girl who he had essentially watched grow up. And whew, did she grow up good. He couldn’t help himself as he let his sunken eyes roam over the smooth, exposed skin of her chest, the tank top she wore under her unzipped jacket left little to the imagination.

Daisy thought his southern drawl was absolutely intoxicating as she slid a little box of chem vials across the counter to him, “Thank you, Coop. Don’t tell dad I gave these to you.” She winked and leaned back as her dad came out to greet his old friend, letting the two men greet each other like they hadn’t spent any time apart.

“Cooper Howard, you son of a bitch! I hope you brought me that Brahmin you still owe me.” Josiah grinned as he pulled the ghoul in for a hug, giving him shit over some long-forgotten wager on a card game. Coop patted him on the back with a shit-eating grin, “Yessir, why, yo’ momma’s waitin’ outside!”

Daisy watched Cooper closely as she stood beside her dad, taking in the way his skin had started to redden in places she didn’t remember being scarred over before. She had spent her whole adolescence infatuated with him, playing it off as a silly little girl crush on a big strong man (who had killed for her, but that’s a story for another day.) Her pulse quickened as she overhead her father invite the ghoul inside for a drink and to rest, watching him come around the counter to push through the curtains leading to the back.

It was fucked up, Cooper knew that. He knew it was fucked up to already be thinking about the woman behind him. Thinking about how sweet she sounded when she said his name, thinking about that little pearl necklace dangling in his face as she skillfully sat atop his—

He really needed that drink, and maybe a puff of his inhaler before he went feral at the thought of something as soft and pretty as his Daisy having anything to do with something as scarred and distorted as him.

a/n: okay yall what do we think about part one? I got to the app to post it and immediately rewrote the ending because I hated the original, so I hope this was good!

taglist: @savanahc @one-of-thewalkingdead @silverose365 @neverendingdumptser

#the ghoul fallout #the ghoul x oc #the ghoul fanfiction #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard fanfiction #cooper howard x oc #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #fallout imagine #cooper howard smut #teehee #trader’s daughter

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mlmxreader · 4 days

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What Remains | Cooper Howard x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ '' How I end up here''

And

"I wanna know who I'm looking at"

With ghoul please

( I didn’t watch the show but this character I.... What I'm thinking is bad...) ❞

: ̗̀➛ Cooper Howard is long dead, but maybe a part of him still lives in The Ghoul. Even if it's only a little bit.

trigger warnings : ̗̀➛ swearing, mentions of violence, jealousy, sex references, violence references

╰┈➤ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Cooper was too busy with searching the chem box to even think about looking up; with you standing guard so diligently and with great loyalty, he didn't know of any reason why he should have.

After all, you had been travelling together since you saved him from a group of super mutants, and although it was not easy, you had gained each other's trust, confidence and now it felt odd if you weren't together - you were a team, now, after spending so long together.

Of course, you still had disagreements, though, like when you wanted to help your old friend Valentine and Cooper it a bullshit distraction.

"Thou shalt not get side tracked by bullshit every time," he had grumbled, even whilst aiding you in helping Valentine.

It still made you laugh when you thought about it. He never wanted to play the good guy and was really only ever out for himself unless there were enough caps in the question; but you could see it, the layer of decency hidden under all that lone wanderer bullshit.

The humanity that he so desperately tried to snuff out. Trying to run so far from what he used to be but still clinging onto gope that somewhere in all the shit, there was something - someone - to bring him back. To pull Cooper Howard back into the light at last.

You cleared your throat, drawing his attention at last.

"It's gettin' dark, Coop," you told him. "We ought to find shelter for the night, then keep going."

Cooper grumbled even though he knew that you were right; being so close to the edge of the Glowing Sea was more dangerous at night than any other time.

Ravenous deathclaws stalked the land searching for anything they could devour. Glowing ghouls with rotted brains and empty dyes were just waiting at the chance to consume any sort of meat. There was always something in the shadows.

But Cooper still slammed the chem box shut and he still stood up and gestured for you to follow him back to the ruined house not far down the road.

It had only one bed, but it still had a roof, and that was better than nothing.

At least you weren't on that fucking foggy island again with all those gulpers and anglers and crabs. so there was that.

"You take the bed," Cooper told you with a huff. "I'll just sleep on the chair."

You shook your head. "Why don't we just share? It's plenty big enough and it wouldn't be the first time."

Cooper huffed as he took his hat and coat off, putting them on the chair before sitting at the edge of the bed; he watched you with great curiosity, taking notes of every movement as if he was studying you and trying to learn your behaviour.

You didn't think much of it - he had been doing it for a while now.

Well, ever since you met up with that Ghoul Mayor who had endlessly flirted with you; you knew Cooper didn't like the fact that you flirted back, but you assumed it was only because he didn't want you to be distracted by the oh so handsome ghoul.

"Hey," you cleared your throat as you looked at him, the buttons of your shirt undone to expose only the slightest glimpse of your chest. "We're okay, right?"

Cooper glared up at you, then nodded slowly. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"You've been different since Goodneighbor," you said with a shrug. "Ever since that Mayor invited me to stay the night, you've been weird."

"Thou shalt not-"

"Get side tracked by bullshit every time, I know, I know, but it ain't that and you know it," you told him, folding your arms across your chest. "It's like you had an issue with him wanting to get in my trousers."

He glared at you for a moment, then shook his head with a scowl. "How'd I end up here? Bein' fuckin' questioned about why I cockblocked that Mayor you fuckin' couldn't wait to jump on."

"Hust tell me why, Coop," you sighed.

"He weren't right for you," he told you with a sneer. "He didn't know what it's like out there for people like us. He spent all his fuckin' time in an office doin' chems - he don't know. Someone like that can't be right for someone like you."

"And you think you would be?" You asked with a raised brow. "Then why the fuck didn't you just tell me? Why the fuck did you have to go all stupid and weird?"

Cooper grumbled. "Shut up about it, would ya? It don't matter - I ain't... I ain't who I was and I ain't never gonna go back to it. So shut up, lie down and fuckin' sleep. We'll head out first thing. Second dawn comes up."

"Or what?" You challenged.

"Or I'll take you back to Goodneighbor," he all but growled out. "And you can stay there with your pretty boy Mayor."

"You wouldn't," you shook your head, narrowing your gaze at him. "I'm not an asset to you, Coop, and you care about me - whether you admit it or not. You care, you just won't let me in... but you want to... so tell me, because I wanna know who I'm looking at: The Ghoul, or Cooper?"

His expression softened as he looked down at the ground to hide his weakness, groaning and sighing heavily. "My name was- is Cooper Howard. I'm a bounty hunter, and I hated the way that Mayor looked at you, spoke to you... but I can't be what you want, and we both know that."

You came to sit beside him, your hand landing on his thigh. "So you can't be yourself? Because that's what I'd want. I'd want the snarky, violent, asshole who shoots first and asks questions later."

Cooper didn't say anything, just put his hand on yours and nodded slowly; he couldn't bring himself to say it, in all honesty. He tried to long to snuff out his humanity that it felt wrong to even try to engage with it again; Cooper Howard was dead, and he knew that.

if you made it to the end of this fic and you enjoyed it, then please, if you have any cash to spare, please consider donating to help Mahmoud rebuild his life.

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rebelliousstories · 3 hours

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Old Wound

Relationship: Cooper Howard x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Mentions of Death, Brief Strong Language

Word Count: 1,167

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: She was supposed to be dead. He held her while she died in his arms. How is she here?

“You ever think about what’s gonna happen when we’re dead, cowpoke?” She asked.

It was a cool night, probably winter now if Cooper was remembering right. It had been so long since he felt a proper winter that he was not sure after all these years. He turned his head to the woman that was resting on his chest as they huddled around a fire to keep away the chill.

“You on drugs or somethin’?” Cooper’s serious tone made the woman burst out with laughter. She pushed herself up so that she was level with his face to look into his beautiful ocean blue eyes.

“No but, you’ve survived centuries. I may get a few decades if I’m lucky. I was just wondering if you’ve ever thought about what’ll happen when we die.” Her repeated question did not even make The Ghoul miss a beat.

“We’re gonna become food for someone or somethin’ else. That’s what’s gonna happen.” He stated, trying to get the woman to lay back down.

“I meant the afterlife, baby. Like do you think that there’s the pearly gates, or just nothingness?” She laid back down and let the man run his ungloved hand over her head, and through her hair.

“I hope there’s an afterlife, but if there is anything these last couple centuries have taught me is that God is cruel. So whatever is waiting for us, we take it as it comes.” Howard pressed a kiss in the wake of his hand and felt the woman relax into him. That answer seemed to pacify her as they settled in for the night and went to bed.

If only he could ask her what was waiting for them on the other side of death’s embrace. It had only been a couple weeks and the sting was still fresh, but you know cowpokes. They take it as it comes. Cooper had been traveling alone this entire time with a chip on his shoulder, and saddened eyes.

Walking into Filly, there was a vacancy in his pouch where his chems would be. The thought alone made him want to shoot something. She always got his chems for him because they would give the pretty girl a discount, but the ghoul behind her would get nothing. He had not needed to get his own since she began traveling with him a couple of years ago.

A sign on the door pointed him to where he needed to go. His spurs clinked against the wooden floors as he went inside the little apothecary. There was a bell that he ringed, and soon a man stepped out from behind a curtain.

“Sixty chems.” The Ghoul left no room for small talk, and set the necessary caps on the counter between them. Without a word, the man disappeared and retrieved the items for the mutant. Each man pocketed their own items and said nothing as they turned to go back to what they were doing before.

As soon as Cooper stepped out, gasps and shouts were heard through the downtown area. At first he thought it was him; ghouls were not exactly welcomed in many parts, especially him. But it was not. A woman in distressed clothing was walking around and looking for someone or something with desperation in her eyes. Looking at her from underneath the lip of his hat, The Ghoul thought that her clothing was remarkably familiar.

“Get lost, Ghoul. You ain’t welcome round here.” One of the shopkeepers shouted at the woman, who was clearly very lost. She said nothing as she kept looking around and did not even respond to the man. However she did respond when someone threw something at her. Trying to protect herself, she reached for something on her hip, only for that object to not be there. It was not until she turned around the Cooper felt his breath catch and his heart stop.

It was her. His little spitfire girl was right in front of him. There was no way though. She had bled out in his arms. She died in his arms. He felt the last breath leave her body, and her pulse stop. And yet, here she was. Standing in front of him as if nothing had happened. The sound of a gun cocking caught his attention, as well as the end of a barrel trained on the woman. In an instant, Howard shot the assailant first before he had time to harm the woman. She did not flinch, but rather calmly looked to where he stood and gasped out his name in a hushed whisper.

Cooper marched right up to her, and observed. Not a hair was different from the last time he had seen her. He did not even allow for another moment to pass as he grabbed her arm and began to drag her from the market. Once they were in a quiet part, he let go and could not hold his tongue.

“Who the hell are you? Why are you wearin’ her clothes?” Cooper demanded, holding his gun out to point at the woman.

“What- what are you talking about. Coop, it’s me. This isn’t funny.” She pleaded, feeling afraid as this was the first time in years that she had been at the end of his gun.

“Prove it,” he breathed, “what did you tell me you hoped was waiting for us in death?”

“I never told you.” She whispered. “But you told me that no matter what, we cowpokes take it as it comes, so it didn’t matter. Please Coop. Just put the gun down.”

With a deep breath in and out, he did as she asked. Cooper rushed forward and took in another deep breath, this time with the scent of her. But there was something off about her scent. It smelt much more… ghoulish. Pulling away, he saw her same eyes staring back at him. Those same eyes that he begged to open just one more time a few weeks ago.

“How?” Cooper asked, running his hands everywhere he could.

“I don’t know. I don’t even know what I am, or what happened that I came back. All I know is that one minute I’m in your arms, and the next I’m picking myself up off the ground and all alone.” She repeated the process of running her hands everywhere she could as her lover was doing to her.

“Hate to break it to ya, sweetheart, but I think you’re a little like me. Who the hell knows with all the radiation bullshit.” He whispered, chuckling lightly at the face she pulled when he proposed his theory.

“I guess there are worse things to be. I’m just glad I found you again.” Cooper was brought into a tight embrace, as she buried her face into his chest and breathed in his scent.

“Me too, darlin’. Me too.” He whispered back, pressing kisses to her hair as he was glad to just hold her in his arms again.

#rebelliousstories #writing #fallout #fallout imagine #cooper howard #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul #cooper howard x oc #the ghoul fallout #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul x oc

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ladybirdswritings · 1 day

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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??

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htchnr · 1 month

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♰ 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 😩😩😩💕😭😭

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

#⋆୨🩷©2024 htchnr #⋆୨⭐️cooper howard #cooper howard x fem!reader #cooper howard oneshot #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #the ghoul oneshot #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul fallout #the ghoul x reader #walton goggins #walton ghoulgins #lucy maclean

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certified-fiction-fucker · 24 days

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having an obsession with the ghoul (aka mr. cooper howard) while on my period just makes me feel so much hotter because…well…cannibalism?

shit it sounds bad when i write it out, doesn’t it?

#fallout #cooper howard smut #the ghoul smut #cooper howard #the ghoul #cooper howard imagine #the ghoul imagine #fallout tv series #fallout 2024

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grugruel · 24 days

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Say it Again

Pairings: Cooper Howard x f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: For a long time, there'd been a quiet, reciding fondness between you and your companion. And when you finally journey back to your old vault, feelings are stirred from the depths and brought to the surface.

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: (mentions of blood, violence, death), angst, pinv sex, passionate sex, strong feelings, "I love you", pet names (darlin', sweetheart, honey), hair pulling (squint and you'll miss it), overstimulation, creampie, praise (both recieving).

AN: Not yet proofread! Let me know what yall think about the music inserts. I figured since its such a big part of the fallout universe, I might aswell ad it in a fic too! Enjoy yall!!

The vault was open. . . It took my mind a few moments to wrap around the idea.

The thought of it being perpetually shut was so hard-wired into my being that I would've thought the gaping door a hallucination had it not been for my own departure a few months prior.

And I knew- I knew it ment nothing good. But perhaps they'd all left–alive, wandering the wasteland in search of better luck–a better life.

♪ Yes, pretending that I'm doing well

A familiar melody rang faint, barely reaching through the howling wind as it sang up a storm of scorching sand, whipping and tearing at my clothes.

In abivalence, I made my way toward the facade. Eyes examining the number 33 written in a bold, weathered font on the hefty external door.

A pang of guilt hit me–maybe I shouldn't have left, maybe I could've prevented whatever happened here. With the inhale of a calming breath, I stepped up to the construction, running the flat of my palm along the beaten but familar metal.

Then, without so much as a single thought of caution, I stepped over the threshold. The safety of a vault- my vault, was too fresh in my mind. That allong with the trust I placed in the hands of my shadow, suspecting his vigilance to be enough for the both of us.

Tracing the cool, grand archway with my fingertips as I entered, feeling the wear of oxidisation on its surface. Such a small detail I'd never payed any mind to before. How aged it was, yet still standing strong. A reminder of its resilience- of its impenetrable metal, planned to withstand outside threats for hundreds of years. And now, there it stood–wide open. The derision of the situation nagged me terribly.

♪ I'm lonely but no one can tell

When no longer veiled by the wind, the song sang clearly, its notes reverberating throughout the metal in a forboding fashion. Setting off a feeling of unease in the pit of my stumache.

While I stood familiarising myself again, I could feel a pair of eyes watching me, observing me. Monitoring my grief-struck and conflict ridden mind with a commiserating gaze. Their constant and reassuring prescence hovering behind me in semblance of a specter, keeping a respectful distance as my mind worked through what might have transpired while I was away.

♪ Oh yes, I'm the great pretender

The volume grew stronger as we made our way inside, my feet moving with slight hesitation as they clanged along the grated flooring.

♪ Adrift in a world of my own ♪

Stepping on the elevator, I steadied myself against the railing, feeling it vibrate beneath my hands with the frequency of the music. Those sweet well-known tunes only growing more and more eerie as we descended, accompanied by that strange constant hum from the bedrock, from the quiet. A white noise that only lived in vast open constructions such as this. Inhabiting the walls, the floor, and open spaces made from metal and stone.

A shiver ran down my spine, I'd never liked the quiet, despite the volume of the music, the quiet resounded. It'd always made to much noise in my mind.

♪ You've seen and you've left me to dream all alone

But when the doors opened to the floor below, a reassuring hand placed itself on the small of my back, amicably giving me a final push when I'd stood too long hesitating.

And it helped, it really did. The eclipsing stillness of the vault and the distorting of the music softened, fading and returning to that of good times–when they'd still existed.

♪ Too real is this feeling of make-believe

But the possibilities of what I might find ahead launched a gruesome assault on my mind. I tried distracting myself–thud, thud, thud. Our dull steps tapped against the floor. A pair of spurs clicking along with the steady rythm, leather groaning. Turns out I could only hear him, and I prefered it that way.

♪ Too real when I feel what my heart can't conceal

It was a better focus then the constant searching for bloodsplatter and unmoving bodies, splayed out on the floor or tucked into a corner, seeking shelter, protection–spurs, leather-

I snapped back, the lyrics echoing in my mind and bouncing of the walls simultaneously, resonating throughout the empty halls as I jumped off of that dark train of thought before it could spiral further. The hands scrunched the fabric of my clothes, silently checking on me, attempting to refocus my mind. On the music, on him, anything was better.

♪ Yes, I'm the great pretender

I followed the words, thinking of the ones before and those to come. I still remember the list of songs. They'd played during weddings and social gatherings. We had them in our houses. I remember dancing in the kitchen, with swaying to the music with those I love. It was one of those moments which you knew you'd remeber forever, which would become a core part of you. Always to be looked back on, and sure enough.

I could't help myself from smiling, such fond memories. In my peripheral, his eyes softened. Still keeping his vigilant watch over my well-being, returning my smile with no intention of ever telling me, unkowing that I had indeed noticed him as he did so.

♪ Yes, just laughing and gay like a clown

But now, as I wandered the abandoned halls of the vault, they were only a tragic reminder of a time gone by–yet, I could see no bodies, no evidence of a fight or struggle–relief flooded through me. However, I still didn't dare make my way down to the compost section, I'd walked that path to many times on my last day here.

♪ I seem to be, what I'm not, you see

The hand angainst my back brushed my clothed skin with a thumb, circling a vertebra, moving to squeeze my arm as it then fell back to his side. The loss of his touch was dissapointing, but the closeness of his body made up for it.

We took a turn, away from the chance of decaying bodies and toward the fields of crop. I wanted to see it one last time, remember that last wedding–the good times, before I left and the place had become this, before it was reduced to a graveyard of memories.

♪ And I'm wearing my heart like a crown

I found my eyes wandering as we walked, constantly sliding to the man beside me. An aching arose in my heart, the two of us could've been something real sweet. Something true, something strong. If only we had the freedom of chance and opportunity. But as it were, we simply coexist, solely striving to survive in a world swallowed up by nuclear waste and feral brutality. I don't know what I would've done without him, it was a long road for us to grow this close–we didn't get along too well when we first met.

♪ Oh yes, I'm pretending and praying that you're still around

The music tunes out, fading into quiet nothing, like dust particles leaving rays of light–simply seizing to exist. I felt the comparison too familiar for my liking, turns out anything is just a methapor for something else.

After waiting patiently and biding it's time, that strange hum takes up again. Making me wish he'd hold me steady, a d let the drumming of his heart be the only thing I hear. A wish that frequented my mind a lot as of late.

It's interesting how much you learn about yourself and the world when leaving the safety of your vault. The most ironic thing–radiation, and the fact that its the least to be worried about on the surface, the real danger being what dwells in the midst of it. Creatures–beasts, savages and monsters. The rad mutated animals are nothing compared to the barabarians that the human species have become, I really had no idea what stripping someone of their basic needs and a guaranteed future could do to a person before I entered the wasteland. And now, I cant help but marvel at the fact that only a few have resorted to eating eachother and worshipping radiation.

Dog-eat-dog is an old expression that comes to mind. Apparently it was used way before all of this befell us, and I can't help but imagine how bad we could've been back then to create such a phrase in a law-abiding society. But they were the poeple to destroy the world and we to rebuild it, so perhaps its not that strange after all.

Either way, I don't remember it personally. I wasn't alive back then, but it was told to me by someone who was.

The next song started up, the sorrowful tune keeping the deafening white noise at bay, and as I had predicted the list, it was my favorite to be played.

♪ There's a place where lovers go

To cry their troubles away ♪

The tape, surely damaged–played a slower version than I remembered, but it was all the same to me as I let it envelop me in a veil of comfort before finally laying eyes on what we'd come here for–corn. I felt their green stems beneath my fingers as I walked along the field, it was a miracle they were even alive and surviving whatever hardships they'd encountered. Another metaphor.

There came a rustling behind me, my companion doing the same as I had. A scarred hand reaching out to slide his fingers through the crop, keeping a stunned expression on his face, the corners of his lips curling upward.

♪ And they call it Lonesome Town

Where all the broken hearts stay ♪

It must've been a long time for him since feeling something living like this. Much, much longer than it had for me. And I'd just taken it all for granted.

Keeping our pace, we followed the path through the crops until fianlly, the familiarity of a huge wall welcomed me home.

Surrounding me was a vast sky with millions of stars and endlessly stretching mountains, following a path so distant I could not spot the end, all the while the high moon cast silvery blue light upon the world. A projection of the Nebraskan countryside. I used to stare at it for hours, dreaming myself away to a place that no longer existed. 'Did it really look like this? The world- I mean.' I hatched out of me.

♪ You can buy a dream or two

To last you all through the years ♪

'It sure did.' My companion turned to face me, choosing a lesser view over the pretty one before him. He was a mere arms-length away. 'It could be real beautiful.' He said, his eyes roaming my face.

♪ And the only price you pay

Is a heart full of tears ♪

He was a brute, that is true. He was the outcome of living through literal hell, but he'd fared quite well through it all in my opinion. He had his humanity left, which is more than I can say for the majority of the population. Charming and quick-witted, dangerous and cold. He'd seen who we were and what we had become, it's no wonder he acted the way he did. But it was all the same to me, he was strong and handsome, he could even by kind-hearted at times, and I loved him through it all.

♪ Goin' down to Lonesome Town

To cry my troubles away ♪

The implication made me blush, and shy away from his eager eyes while I averted my own, leading them back to the contryside. 'I wish I could've seen it.' I tried to focus, studying the sight meticulously, jotting down every detail in my mind. I hadn't had time the last time I was here- not to dwell. Too late now it seemed, the memory resurfacing with a passion as my eyes drifted over the scorching cloud in the sky, burned into the irreplaceable film. My lips drew into a thin line as I swallowed, it was reality, it was life. But it didn't stop my stumache from churning, the stench of wet metal revisiting my nose.

♪ Goin' down to Lonesome Town

To cry my troubles away ♪

A scarred hand reached up to brush strands of hair from my face, again, distracting me mercifully. Rough knuckles gently sliding over my cheek and the neighing of my jaw. 'I wish you could too.' He grasped my chin between this thumb and index finger, tilting my face upwards, our gazes meeting eachother.

♪ In a Town of broken dreams

The streets are filled with regret ♪

I leaned into his touch, for it was rare. Rare that he allowed himself simple pleasures such as touching me, even though I would willingly give myself to him at a moments whim. 'I love you.' I whispered. 'Please, please let me.'

♪ Maybe down in Lonesome Town

I can learn to forget ♪

The music glitched, the sound warping spookily as the needle scratched and jumped the groves in the needle. Shutting off for a second and then coming back on, restarting the song.

He shook his head, eyes uncharacteristically soft as met mine. Uncharacteristic to anyone but me. 'I can't feel ya', sweetheart.' He reclaimed his hand and took a step back, squeezing it into a fist, frustration shaking it as he cursed himself. The music tuned out, and all I see was the blue light contrasting his red-burnt skin, enforcing its texture as shadows settled in the contours and the pale silver on his high points. All I could hear were his words, the frustration and insufficiencies hinding in his tone, mirroring my own. 'Can't feel your fuckin' softness, cant feel your skin.'

'You can–' I followed his movement, gaining on the distance he'd created between us. '–it might not be ideal, but it's us.' I slid my fingers along his clothed arm, grabbing his coarse hand.

'I'm here, not perfect, and that's what you can feel. Imperfection. . . It's something that belongs to us.' I gave him a faint smile, doing my best to reassure him. To truly make him understand.

'I dont deserve you.' He leaned his forehead against mine, his cowboy hat sliding up his head as he did so.

It was my turn to shake my head now. 'Oh, but if you only knew what you desvered.' My voice broke, eyes watering. 'The world, coop. You've been through so much, you survived the bombs dropping for fucks sake, and the following 200 years after that. What you did during those years was for your own survival, please do not ever feel bad about any of it.' The silence that ensued became too long, too deafening. 'I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, so beautiful in your own right.' A tear fell down my cheek.

'I dont feel bad 'bout it sweetheart, thats the problem. I aint any of that, 'm a selfish killer. There's nothin' left of who I were–the good part. . .' his hand slid down my arms, squeezing my biceps to emphasize. '. . .what little good there was, it died a long time ago.' His drawl thick as he spoke, kissing my forehead. 'You can do better, 'n I cant allow those precious years of yours to go to waste on somethin' like me.' He wrapped his arms around me, placing one hand on the back of my head, cradeling it to his chest as he pulled me close, resting his chin on top of my head. The wetness of my cheeks transfering to his shirt. 'Don't cry, sweetheart. Dont cry 'cause of me.' He kissed my forehead again, working his way downward–cheekbone, jaw and finally–my lips.

His hands slid down the outline of my body, shoulders and ribs, then settled on my waist. He pulled me closer, deepening the kiss in the same motion.

♪ Maybe down in Lonesome Town

I allowed him to kiss me for too long, I allowed him to believe his own words for too long. I pulled free, tearing away to breathe, to lock my eyes on his. 'I dont want who you were, dont you understand?' I cup his face, truly feeling him beneath my fingers, and loving every bump and dent. 'I want who you are now, scars and all. It's not for you to allow me anything. Get that in your head.' My voice had gone harsh, and even though he needed to hear it with all the conviction I muster, I added 'Please. . .' As softly as I could.

♪ I can learn to forget

The last notes of the song died out.

He shook his head as a small, breathless, humorless chuckle erupted from his lips. '. . .I love you too. . .'

♪ Only you

The next song started, the voice vibrating through his bones. A song he'd danced to when it was first released, twirling a life that no longer existed in his arms. He closed his eyes, humming along to the tune as he embraced the memory, arms wrapping tightly around its waist, hugging it lovingly one last time. Then let go.

♪ Can do, make this world seem right

He mouthed the words as he opened his eyes, finding her sweet face looking up at him, his pretty girl. It'd taken him more than he wished to admit, to say those three words. How such meak and fruitless words had cause him so much turmoil, he didn't know.

♪ Only you

Because when he looked at her now–stars projecting in her glimmering eyes, the wetness of tears remaining on her cheeks, anf with the backdrop of a countryside from a bygona era–the prevailing feeling was grief, a mourning over the precious time wasted, time he could've spent in admitant love with her. Holding her, kissing her, loving her. Things he just hadn't allowed himself to concede to, to fall slave under it. To truly feel it from the bottom of his heart–instead, reciding in the pit of it, in some dark, tucked away corner, was the feeling of being lesser and undeserving of her softness, her own kind heart.

♪ Can do, make the darkness bright

'Come.' She said, a faint smile on her lips as she grabbed his hand, pulling him with her. Away from the corn, away from Nebraska. He followed her willingly, blindly trusting her as she pulled him to wherever. He didn't care, as long as he was with her.

♪ Only you and you alone

The music grew fainter, devolving into a sweet hum, a lullig as the distance of the speakers tossed the sound boucing after them, echoing along the vaults longevous walls while they moved through them.

He turned her hand over as they walked, observing it quietly as he rubbed gentle circles into the plush skin of her hand, admiring what softness he could feel, his distorted hands dulling the sense unbareably.

♪ Can thrill me like you do

But it didnt matter in the end. Imperfection is what she'd said, and it belonged to them. His heart ached, eyes drifting over the small form leading him. The way her hair swayed and body moved, he could feel himself harden. Guilting himself. It was love for a woman, a family, that had once driven him to survive- with that life now long gone, it was that beautiful girl infrontnof him that kept him going.

♪ And fill my heart with only love for you

They passed several doors with accompanying mailboxes, until she slowed and halted her steps so suddenly, she almost collided with his chest. Her form stood frozen, contemplating, just as she'd done when they first entered the vault.

A scorched finger rose up to stroke her cheek. 'You alright, sweetheart?'

♪ Oh, only you

'Mhm. . .' She hummed. 'One moment.' And whipped around to face him, opening his saddlebag to rummage through it.

Unsuspectingly, a blush crept it's way up her cheeks, seemingly caused by the intent gaze he focused so tightly on her.

♪ Can do, make all this change in me

They'd just kissed, professed their love. Yet, it was his closeness, his warm breath against her that made her blush. He'd never want to be anywhere else. His gaze wandered, studying the home they stood infront of. Eyes landing on a mailbox, he read the full name aloud with a loving smile on his lips.

'I like the way it sounds when you say it.' She whispered, a coy smile on her lips. Suddenly- her eyes widened, finding what she'd been looking for, she pulled the object out of the bag, holding it up for him to see. An old pipboy.

"Welcome" it read, and as she turned one of the kogs, the door to the house opened.

♪ For its true

It was exactly the way I remembered it, not a detail out of place–rather an added layer of dust coating every surface of the place.

I ran a finger along the top of my scratched desk, gathering a pillow of dust on top of it. And then I saw it, standing lonely and abandoned–my old radio. Glee filled me as I turned it on, reflecting the song that was already playing outside. Filling my little house with soft waves of sweet tunes, all thr while weighing my heart terribly. Strong nostalgia splitting me in two. 'I used to love dancing.' The words left my lips in a soft murmur. 'Some of my favorite memories are from this kitchen, and now. . .' My voice broke. Inspected the dust and rubbed it between my fingers, observing how it crumbled to the floor. Perhaps another meatphor–how I myself am responsible for my old life crumbling.

♪ You are my destiny

A pair of hands found my waist, a chin coming to rest on my shoulder. He pulled me close, my back thudding against a strong chest. 'Its alright. . .' He breathed against my neck. 'We can make new ones.' Kissing my skin softly as he began moving with the music.

♪ When you hold my hand

My lips curled into a smile as I declined my head against his chest, snaking my hand behind his neck as the other fell on top of his hand, squeezing it with gratefulness. 'Thank you.' I whispered.

♪ I understand the magic that you do

He twirled me around, luring a giggle to erupt. He caught and pulled me close again, this time face to face. His eyes were still so clear, such a stark contrast to his muddled skin.

♪ You're my dream come true

The lyrics seemed to speak for us as my fingers interlocked behind his neck, my thumbs brushing his jaw. While his hands squeezed my sides, exhaling a long breath as we swayed, his eyes intently searching mine. 'I love you, sweetheart.'

♪ My dream come true

Without hesitation, my lips met his. 'Then prove it to me Coop. . .' Coyness tugged on my lips, my hands sliding to the buttons of his vest, '. . . Let me feel it.'

♪ Oh-oh, only you

He grinned against my lips. 'Anyhtin' for my girl.' And his hands wrapped around mine, helping them unbutton his clothes, skiding them off of him. Barechested as he was, he twirled me again. Back to chest, he whispered in my ear, 'Your turn, darlin'.'

♪ Can do, make all this change in me

Gladly, with my hands still guided by his touch, I brushed them along my torso, undoing every button of my shirt as I did so and slid it off my shoulders, my bra coming off next. He cupped them eagerly, a groan leaving his lips as he massaged them. Ingiting a pulse deep in my uterus. The music seemed to tune out off my mind, selective hearing I suppose.

Moaning in response, I could feel him harden as he pressed his hips into my ass. 'Need to feel it.'

'Undress.' Was all he said, removing his own clothes as I did mine.

A short moment later, he had my back pinned against a wall and my legs wrapped around his hips as he held me up with a firm arm around my waist–the other busy lining himself up with my core.

Suddenly- he pushed inside, leaving me as a whimpering mess. 'Good girl, sweetheart. . .' He whispered, doing nothing to ease the aching matter. '. . .sound so pretty for me.'

And without warning, he pulled out, and thrusted back into me again with full force. 'Mmh- Fuck!' I cried out. But his lips were on mine before I could fully register how big he was. Again and again, he trusted right into my core. His tongue fighting for control as it battled my own. My body was aching with a burning want for him, a need so strong I already felt myself closing in on my orgasm. '. . .'M gonna cum, Coop. Slow down, p- please. I stuttered the words, strained breaths dividing the sentence.

'Its ok sweetheart, you're doin' so well.' He reassured me, then took my words as a direct command and pushed us off the wall, walked over to the bed and threw us onto it with a cloud of dust kicking up around us.

Obiding my request, he backed up, hooked my legs over his shoulders and re-entered me with a shuddering moan. The feeling of my core effecting him as badly as his member effected me. With one hand burried in my hair, the other palmed a breast while his lips found my neck, gently taking my skin between his teeth as he pushed so deep inside me I almost screamed, but managed to bite my lip to keep quiet. That's when I felt him shake his head against me. 'Don't go all quiet, let me hear ya', honey.'

And so I did, releasing a string of curses disguised as moans while I wrapped my arms around his neck, placing kisses on his cheek while nuzzling my face against him. But I felt that blinding pressure building again, slower this time, but with an unrelenting force.

His warm breaths against my neck accompanied by the feeling of him inside me and the slick sound we created had my head swimming. It was too much, too fast. But this time, I wanted it. '. . .'M close Coop.' I whimpered.

'Me too, honey. Real fuckin' close.' He panted, voiced muffled as he kissed and sucked at my neck, hands fisting my hair and squeezing my breast. His thrusts began faltering as we both approached climax. 'Fuck, feel so good.' He cursed, groaning the words in my ear as our bodies rocked together, moving in sync. I was aflame, the pulsing in my body acting the accessory to his own members pulsing inside me. My eyes screwed shut, he felt so fucking good it was a simple reflex.

He kissed his way along my throat, pulling on my hair to angle my jaw for him, his lips trailing along it's sharps points, then up my cheek, settling in my lips. 'Look at me.' He breathed.

I wanted to listen to him, but my eyes did not. The pleasure was to much, the wall inside me so near collapsing-

'Look at me, sweetheart.' He ordered again, his voice sharper this time.

Having no other option I forced myself to open them. But it was worth it, listening to Cooper always was.

'Good girl.' He praised, his lips colliding with mine. And that wall burst, his words being the final battering ram. Tidal waves of pleasure rolled through me, roiling like crashing waves inside me. 'Love you, sweetheart.' He moaned.

No words would ever spur me on like those ones did, my uterus was quaking with every act of him. 'Say it again.' I pleaded.

'I love you' he whimpered. . . Whimpered. Strong and dangerous as he was, he whimpered as he came inside me. His rocking thrust strained as he continuing rutting into me, doing his best to lead us through our orgasms.

'Good boy, Coop. Again. . . Please.' I begged.

And he listened, repeating the words "I love you" against my lips, his voice pitching and breaking from the sheer pleasure he was submitted to. And when moving to softly nip at my ear, he whimpered those same three words in my ear over and over again until I felt a wetness on my cheeks–tears, I realised. He was overstimulating himself, crying as he made love to me. 'Fuck-' he shuddered the word, the slickness he'd created only coaxing more sounds out of him. 'Love you real fuckin' hard, darlin'. . .' He cried again. And I could've reached a second orgasm from that alone.

'I love you too Coop, love you so much. Youre so good to me.' I reassured him, my own voice near a cry as he was putting me through the ringer in the process. Finally, he began slowing down, his entire body shuddering from the way my insides clenched around him, milking the juies out of him. He kissed me one final time, then pulled out and collapsed beside me.

I had to take a moment to collect myself before turning to face him, my hand reaching up to brush the wetness from his cheeks.

His eyes met mine, both full of unconditional love. We laid like that for some time, loosing ourselves in eachothers gazes as we regarded one another in silent contemplation. All the while I could feel his seed leaking out of my core. 'You're a good man, Cooper Howard.' I whispered.

'I do what I can to deserve ya', sweetheart. The day I'm anythin' else but good to you-' He began. But I stopped him, not wanting his thoughts to walk down that road.

'You'll never be anything but good, Coop.' I inclined my head, kissing him softly before I nuzzled my head into the crook of his neck. 'Don't forget it.' My voice a murmur against his strong neck as I slowly drifted off to sleep within the safety of his embrace.

♪ We'll meet again

Hand in hand, our gazes stay on the halls infront of us as we walk back the way we came.

♪ Don't know where, don't know when

My eyes were on the sand as we left, attempting to distract myself by studying the way the the kernels dent beneath my weight. But with a deep breath, I stop and raise my pip-boy clad arm, looking back toward the falling night, toward the empty timecapsule.

♪ But I know We'll meet some sunny day

The words once again faint as they stab through the howling wind. I turn a kog on the pip-boy, and the vault door rolls into motion. The world around us painted in red-pinkish hues as the door's mechanics shut in the echoing vocals completley, the entrance closing with a heavy, reverberating grating sound.

I can feel my heart thudding hard, beating with a sadness and re found happiness. Revisiting my old home had given me melancholy and a new love. 'You coming?' The voice was soft, considering–unwilling to leave my mind wandering through old, lonely thoughts.

'Let's go.' I murmured, my eyes still on the weathered number 33 as the wind whipped at my cheeks.

'Look at me, sweetheart.' my love drawled, gathering my attention, and I redirect my gaze to his. 'We'll come back.'

I nod. 'We will.' A faint smile make its way to my lips as I stood on my toes to place a kiss on his lips.

Then, with his hand in mine, we wandered the wasteland. Searching for better luck–a better life.

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