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ihavemanyhusbands · 8 months ago

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Revenge is a Dish Best Served Bloody

PART TWO: RABBIT HEARTED

Also on AO3

Part One // Mini-series masterlist

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Bounty Hunter!Reader

WC: 3.8k words

Chapter Summary: During your journey, tension rises between you and the ghoul... but not the kind you expected. You'd built a solid enough rapport, but you found that you both wanted so much more than just that. And so, you let him get a taste.

Warnings: MINORS DNI, THIS FIC IS 18+, Dead dove: do not eat, canon typical violence, the ghoul being the ghoul, swearing, drug mentions/use (chems), enemies to lovers, animal hunt at the beginning of chapter, nudity (both sexual and non-sexual), masturbation, oral (fem receiving), fingering, dirty talking, sorta dom/sub dynamics, a little bit of chasing, outdoor shenanigans, a little bit of degradation, not really any aftercare in this one but pls always practice it irl, aaaand for now that’s all i can think of but lmk if another tag is needed.

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A flash of brown fur slipping through the underbrush immediately made you still. You kept your eyes peeled for the smallest movement, breathing as quietly as possible… and there it was, a little rabbit. Nose twitching, ears standing at attention, eyes dark and wide.

Slowly, you raised your crossbow – which you had luckily been able to recover along with part of your pack, another little courtesy of the ghoul – and aimed at its throat. A slow breath expanding your lungs as your finger came to rest on the trigger.

A reedy squeak as the makeshift bolt pierced through, and it slumped on its side. You smiled to yourself victoriously, bending down to retrieve the carcass, hooking it next to the other one already hanging from your belt. It wasn’t much, but it’d get you through the next day if you rationed it well.

The ghoul had, of course, made you the one in charge of food. You’d been hunting for yourself for as long as you could remember, so it wasn’t an outlandish order, but that didn’t mean you weren’t huffy about it.

At the very least, it meant he wouldn’t keep you tied to him at all times.

A few days of strenuous trekking had passed, and while you were keenly observant of your surroundings, you had not attempted escape once. In fact, you never strayed too far, knowing he could find and retrieve you with ridiculous ease.

But it wasn’t just that. This was the closest you’d ever been to finding Axl, and even if you knew you couldn’t — shouldn’t — fully believe the ghoul’s word, the fact that he had saved your life had to mean something.

Then again, he probably just wanted someone to keep him fed, but only time would tell. For now, you had to keep pushing forward, taking the days as they came.

Tired, you stalked over to a rock outcropping that overlooked the sandy wasteland below. The silence was only vaguely punctuated by a breeze that made you all too aware of how your tattered clothes clung to your sweaty skin.

It was spring, so the sun wasn’t at its most brutal, but walking, and climbing, and hunting for hours every day still took a toll on you. Not to mention, nearly being brutally killed.

Oh, how you yearned for at least a bucket of clean water to wash yourself off.

The last time you’d been able to do so was when you’d stopped in Filly to restock on some supplies. You were running dangerously low on caps, which prompted the ghoul to offer you a loan.

“We could figure out the interest later,” he’d said with a wink. “I can be a generous fella, believe it or not.”

But you had declined, already knowing well what loans in the wasteland entailed. Perhaps you could take an odd job or two at your next stop, but that depended on how long the ghoul would be willing to linger.

In the meantime, you chose the temporary reprieve of sunning your bare skin and letting the breeze caress it. It wasn’t like you were in a huge rush, anyway, and you desperately needed some time to yourself. You glanced around and kept your ears open to make sure you were alone.

Deftly, you stripped and laid your clothes out so they could also get some sun. You kept your old, wide-brimmed straw hat on to shield your eyes as you looked out at the horizon for a lingering moment.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself forget the world was an unfair shithole… save for small instances like this one, feeling something akin to peace. You weren’t sure how much time passed, briefly entering a meditative state.

Then you heard it, heavy footsteps emerging from the sparse treeline.

“Jus what the hell is takin’ you so lo— Oh, my. Well, lookie here…”

Your entire body froze, every single one of your nerve endings tingling with awareness. Still, you didn’t try to cover yourself — if anything, as an act of defiance, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing how he rattled you. Plus, nudity wasn’t really anything out of the ordinary in today’s society.

“See something interesting?” You asked casually, glancing at him over your shoulder.

You were startled by the hunger in his gaze, a sly, brazen smirk tugging at his lips. His eyes snagged on the sweat dotting the small of your back, the smooth expanse of your legs, and the curvature of your ass.

“Nothin’ I haven’t seen, darlin’,” he drawled. “But, boy, if that ain’t a sweet lookin’ peach…”

You turned to face him, crossing your arms below your chest. He let out a low whistle at the sight, hairless eyebrows raising. You could feel your heart hammering against your ribcage, threatening to break through.

“Can a lady not have some privacy?” You asked, raising an eyebrow in return and trying not to squirm as his eyes continued to roam.

He huffed in amusement. “You out here in your birthday suit like we at a fuckin’ meat market, what’s the difference if I’m watchin’?”

A small, traitorous thought slipped into your head then — the difference is, I don’t know if I mind too much that you’re looking at me like that… but that can’t be right.

Desire was not uncommon in the wasteland. You’d seen it glinting dangerously in the eyes of strangers as you’d passed, leering grins and rapacious hands sometimes following. You’d heard the sounds of it coming from abandoned places, in little nooks and crannies that were just right for a tryst.

It was a marvel, at that moment, that even a monster could be affected by it… while also managing to affect you in return.

You had experienced it only a handful of times, but it had rarely been fulfilled. Somehow, though, the ghoul’s gaze had left a fiery imprint on your skin, clinging like an afterthought. Or perhaps a promise.

Instead of insisting he leave, you began redressing, not too quickly as to seem desperate, but also not too slowly as to make it seem like a seduction. You strapped on your pack and your crossbow last, walking past him without a word, bumping your arm against his.

His chuckle trailed after you as you made your way back towards the small camp you’d set up in an abandoned building. While you’d been off hunting, he’d scoped out the place to make sure there were no fiends or mutants lurking about.

Down in the basement, he built a fire as you skinned the rabbits, only preparing one of them for cooking. You already knew he mostly preferred his meals… raw.

He ate quickly, ravenously even, as you waited for your strips of meat to finish cooking. Then you heard him inhale chem – RadAway, by the looks of it – from a canister, coughing a few times before letting out a long, relaxed sigh.

You watched him sidelong, still trying to figure out the riddle of the man whose name you didn’t even know.

“So… are you ever gonna tell me why you’re looking for Axl?”

“I already told ya, girl, it ain’t none of your goddamn business,” he said slowly, not looking at you as he settled back against the wall.

You scoffed. “Don’t I have the right to know at least a little bit more about who is herding me along?”

“Y’ain’t got the right to much of anythin’ ‘round these parts,” he said. “Ain’t you a surface dweller?”

You nodded, inclined in part to get defensive over your knowledge of things, but at the same time… It had been so long since you’d had the opportunity to confide in someone else. Not that he was ideal for it, but you had to admit that having company was quite nice.

It highlighted your loneliness, too, and you had to believe that he wasn’t all too different from you in that respect. You stared at the licking flames in front of you, your mind wandering further away.

“My father was a courier for one of the vaults. We only had each other, so he didn’t like leaving me anywhere. Not even when the vault’s overseer offered to take me in so they could care for me,” you said with a slight shake of your head. “He taught me everything I know, even how to fight.”

“Sounds like he was a smart man,” the ghoul commented idly. “Not leavin’ you to rot in them underground prisons.”

You smiled ever so slightly, pleased and surprised to hear his small praise for your father. You felt yourself relax, having been prepared for a fight. Finally, you were able to start eating, making sure to do it slowly as you were distracted down memory lane.

“He was, and I’m grateful for it,” you said. “Shitty as it can be out here, I like the open air, the sun, even the damn rad rains that leave me sick the next day.”

He grunted at that. “What ‘bout ghouls? You like us, too?”

You looked back at him, your smile turning cryptic. “Not all of them.”

A flash of teeth, tongue darting between them. “Well, ain’t much a mean motherfucker like me can do to convince ya.”

“I’m sure you’ve got a few tricks up your sleeve.”

“You betcha, I do. Gonna ask me for a demonstration, smoothie?”

At this, silence, coiling tight like a viper readying to strike. You stared at each other, challenging, willing one another to break first. To what end, though? Your stomach flipped at the possibilities.

Before you could think it through — knowing deep down you ought to shut it down completely — you said, “Not tonight.”

You quickly looked away, hands trembling slightly from an influx of adrenaline, your heart racing once more. You painstakingly put away the rest of your rations of rabbit, stomach still feeling hollow. Though you were distracted by the stirring of something unnameable within you, all too similar to curiosity.

He was loose and languid, in a better mood than most of the time. Bantering like this was more fun than you’d thought it would be, only making you want more. It seemed he was full of surprises, which meant you couldn’t be too unguarded, no matter how much he might make you laugh.

Or how he seemed to be drawing you in slowly, like a moth to a flame.

———————————-

Those confusing feelings followed you into sleep, plaguing your dreams with images that had you restless and whimpering. Your body felt hypersensitive and warm all over, but still, you didn’t wake.

The ghoul, who didn’t really need to sleep, was privy to all this. He watched from his spot against the wall, the way you tossed and turned, little noises in your throat. He knew it wasn’t nightmares, not with the way your thighs would rub together. You weren’t exactly a peaceful sleeper, but that was the first time it was due to something else — Something he himself had caused.

All the rest of that day, he’d been stuck thinking of the moment he’d found you. The instant lure of your soft skin, the challenge in your eyes, and your raised chin. Distantly, he remembered the myth of an ancient goddess ordering hunting dogs to tear their own master apart, merely for looking at her naked form.

Wouldn’t that be an interesting fate? he thought to himself, not at all put off by it, especially if the goddess happened to look just like you.

Throughout the darkest hours of the night, he’d tried palming himself to ease the building ache, but to no avail. So, as quietly as he could, he’d relieved himself listening to the sounds you made, his eyes closed. Imagining his face buried in your cunt, head nestled between your trembling legs. It didn’t take long at all for him to finish.

In the morning, by the time you’d woken up, he had returned to his usual self. He made you share your rations, arguing that you’d go hunting later, anyway. Barely gave you any time to reorganize your pack before he was dragging you out of the basement to check the perimeter for anything salvageable.

Neither of you addressed the previous evening, but there were still lingering looks, excuses to be in each other’s space, and twice as much bickering. The fuse between you two was short, you knew it, but it was all a matter of who lit it.

“How many more days north?” you asked as you’d finally set off, a long day of walking ahead of you.

“A week, then we shift west for another week,” he said, walking behind you as usual. “I better not hear you start complainin’. You slow me down, I’ll leave your ass behind, perky as it may be.”

You couldn’t help but feel your face heat up a little at that. “How do you know I won’t drop you first?”

“Oh, I know. You need me, sweetheart,” he drawled confidently. “In more than one way.”

You rolled your eyes but had no retort, since he wasn’t altogether wrong. Then your mind pivoted in a more devious direction, wanting to test another theory. It was a foolish risk to take, one that made adrenaline tense your muscles, rabbit heart jackhammering inside your ribcage. You glanced coquettishly at him over your shoulder, and by your grin, he immediately knew something was up.

“And if I ran?”

“Don’t go actin’ stupid now, I think you know the consequences of that, too,” he said, his tone somehow both a warning and a dare.

You hummed pensively, covertly making sure your pack was securely strapped to you. You let the silence hang until you rounded a corner up the path, and then your legs were pumping as hard as they would go. A broad, exhilarated smile on your face, nervous laughter bubbling up your throat.

You heard his yell, followed by his heavy footfalls, approaching much faster than you would’ve liked. A shot burst against a tree trunk as you passed, but you knew he was just trying to scare you. Wincing, you kept running, winding left and right in a zig-zag pattern.

Not that you were actually planning on going anywhere, but you had always had a thing for pushing the limits. No matter how much trouble it might get you in.

Spurs clinking growing louder, then the swish of something being thrown. The lasso encircled you, tightening around your midsection before yanking backward. The world around you pinwheeled, disorienting you for a moment.

Your pack braced your fall some, but you exhaled sharply as you landed. Chest heaving as you panted raggedly, your vision suddenly filled with the ghoul smirking down at you.

“Well, I guess stupidity can’t be helped, huh?” He drawled, propping his revolver pistol on his shoulder and crouching down. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d wager you were just tryin’ to get me all riled up…”

“Me?” You said innocently, betrayed by a teasing grin.

And oh, if that wasn’t the straw that broke the camel’s back. He grabbed you by the shirt and lifted your torso to meet him halfway, your faces inches apart.

“Think I’m playin’ around, sweetheart?” He husked.

You shook your head and licked your lips, drawing his eyes there. You saw the hunger in them again, flaring to life brighter than before. You felt a pulse deep in your core, the flint striking to start the fire.

You bit your bottom lip, keeping yourself from squirming, and he grunted.

“Hm. No, I don’t think I’ve convinced you well enough, actually.” He tilted his head to one side, eyes returning to yours. “I think I oughta give you more proof.”

His grip on your shirt tightened and you realized too late what he was going to do.

“Wait!” You gasped, but the thin fabric had already given away, messily ripping in half.

You glared up at him. “That was my only backup! Couldn’t you at least let me take it off?”

“Fuck if I care,” he said with a shrug, a low sound in his throat as he pushed the rest of it off of you. “It was in the way.”

He withdrew his hands only to slowly tug his gloves off, dropping them unceremoniously on the ground along with his pistol. His hands were warm and callused as they roamed over the expanse of your abdomen, heading upwards.

“Don’t you dare,” you warned as he reached your bra, but he only tugged it down, revealing your breasts.

The sound he tried to conceal made your spine tingle, shoulders drawing together, pushing your chest out.

“Goddamn, sweetheart. Such a nice pair of tits,” he husked, pulling a shuddery sound from you as his hands cupped them.

A little bolt of electricity shooting down to your pussy as he pinched your nipples, hard. Brows furrowing with the combination of pleasure and pain.

“Take this fuckin’ thing off before I rip it off with my teeth,” he growled, a desperate edge beneath his biting tone. “Matter of fact, take the rest of your clothes off.”

You did quick work of unsnapping your bra and wiggling out of the straps of your pack. He shrugged off his coat and moved back to sit against the base of an old, gnarled tree, watching you closely as you kicked your boots off. The shift of your hips as you pushed down your pants, surely teasing him by keeping your cotton panties on.

“Those too,” he grunted, one hand on his pistol, the other palming the prominent bulge in his pants.

You let them drop with the rest of your things, slowly approaching as he beckoned you, patting his thigh. He pulled you down onto his lap when you were close enough. Raising his hips as you settled, pushing his bulge against your cunt.

“Now look at me,” he said as your mouth slackened, grasping your chin. His thumb swiped over your bottom lip, pushing it down, fighting back the ravenous urge to kiss you. “I ain’t gonna take you today, but I will get myself a taste.”

The tip of your tongue darted over the pad of his thumb. A lazy drag of your hips against him made your breathing hitch, but still there was mischief in your eyes. “Are you sure you’ll be able to resist?”

“Oh, I’m positive, honey. I don’t fuck brats,” he said, grinning roguishly. “Not ‘til I tame ‘em first.”

One of his hands came to rest between your shoulder blades, pushing you forward. The other hand cracked down against your ass, making your body jerk. Then he had his mouth on you, lips closing around the hardened peak of your left nipple.

Your hands gripped his shoulders as you moaned, clenching around nothing as he nipped at the sensitive flesh. He continued sucking and licking at your chest, the hand that had spanked you tracing lower. The tips of his fingers reaching your cunt from behind, teasing the entrance.

“My… you’re soaked already,” he rasped against your skin, moving to give your collarbones some attention. “Y’like the idea of being punished, don’tcha? Filthy girl.”

He felt your walls flutter at that, cunt sucking a little more of his fingers in.

“Please,” you gasped mindlessly, knowing you would beg if it came down to it.

“I don’t wanna hear it,” he gruffed, making you yelp with a bite to your shoulder. “On your back.”

It was said as an order, but he manhandled you onto your back, on top of the coat he’d shrugged off earlier. Rough hands pushed your thighs apart, putting you on display for him. A ragged sound, and his fingers were parting your soaked, glistening folds.

“What a feast,” he rasped. “And it’s all for me, ain’t it, sweet thing?”

“Yes,” you said, nodding quickly. “All yours.”

“Atta girl, that’s what I like to hear.”

With that, his head dipped and you felt the first exploratory drag of his tongue. A puff of warm air against your cunt as he groaned, the tip of his tongue circling around your clit teasingly.

Your hips bucked, gripping the fabric of his duster beneath you for dear life. His tongue dipped into the source of your ache, the taste of you pulling another long groan out of him.

“Fuck, such a sweet little pussy you’ve got. And I think it likes me, too,” he said before smearing his saliva and your fluids all over, making a mess of your inner thighs. “Jus’ keeps getting wetter and wetter for me.”

“Keep going, please,” you panted, looking down at him through fluttering lashes. “Feels s-so good…”

“Oh yeah? Does it now?”

You keened as you felt two of his fingers pushing inside of you. His other hand pressed flat against your navel, keeping you from bucking away from him. He couldn’t help himself, his tongue flicking against your clit as his fingers pumped in and out of you.

He felt you start to tremble, your thighs threatening to shut around his head. He started going faster.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck…” the expletive fell from your wanton mouth like a plea, for mercy or… otherwise. “I-I’m… I’m gonna…”

He grunted his approval, feeling you clamp tight around his fingers. His fingers curled, hitting that textured spot inside you that had stars dancing in your vision. Your eyes rolled back into your skull as you practically cartwheeled over the edge, ripples of ecstasy numbing all other senses.

It was the hardest you’d ever orgasmed, and he helped you ride it all the way through. Languished in the cradle of your thighs for a moment longer as your loud moans tapered out into soft whines. When your soul started to slip back into your body, head still swimming, he pulled away and stood up.

He angled his hips away so you couldn’t see the mess at the front of his pants. Heart pounding in his chest in a way that made him feel alive and whole again, erasing the last two hundred plus years from his mind for a mere moment in time.

But he gave no indication of it. Nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just entirely shattered you, he walked towards your clothes and tossed you your underwear.

“Clean yourself up and get dressed,” he said, his voice still ragged as he commanded you. “Quickly now, we ain’t got all day. I’ll let ya rest when we get to the next spot.”

Dazed and wobbly-legged, you did as told, wondering how you were supposed to hike for hours after that. He watched you stumble to get your canteen, water dripping down your chin as you drank.

Chuckled to himself with self-satisfaction, the taste of you seared into his mind.

“Maybe you are starting to change my mind ‘bout what I put in my mouth,” he said as you finished dressing. “But who knows? Maybe I’ll need to try again to confirm.”

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acapelladitty · 8 months ago

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thinnest thread, sown together

Summary: After an accident, Cooper leaves Lucy to patch up his leather duster for him but when he returns he finds that she's used his absence as an opportunity for a private indulgence (AKA: Cooper walks in on Lucy masturbating). [3.2k words]

(tw: voyeurism, vague threats, teasing, masturbation, mentions of drug use, orgasm, coming in pants)

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Link to AO3

"Try not to fuck this up, vaultie. I'm fond of that coat, you hear me?"

"Heard you the first three times, boss."

An unfortunate and somewhat embarrassing accident involving wooden boards and a protruding scrap of sheet metal had proven too much for Cooper's coat, the leather duster having almost split in half due to the pressure of the metal cleaving its way through the material as he descended in a undignified heap.

Lucy was a smart enough girl to know not to laugh, but the noise which escaped the ghoul as he had fallen sat somewhere between a deflating balloon and a startled deathclaw so the effort it had taken for her to not bust out into a giggle was borderline heroic.

The fault was Cooper's own, his footing misstepping due to his attention being pulled away by the distant sound of gunfire - the origins of it unknown but never anything good. It had been enough to throw him off though, and Cooper had sworn up a storm as he tripped on a loose board and smashed through the rickety walkway with such an undignified noise.

Not the end of the world but the genuine distress which seemed to briefly touch at Cooper's face as he recovered from the fall and examined his tattered jacket before his eyes had moved Lucy to offer to fix it up, knowing that he already owned a rusted needle and thread among the various practical belongings he had strewn around his person.

Presumably, they were the same ones he'd previously used to sew the top of her finger onto his own to replace the missing digit she'd torn off with her teeth. She didn't regret it since he'd deserved that and worse for treating her more shittily than that dog that followed him around at times, but she was curious.

More than once her gaze had lowered to her displaced finger, the lightened tone of her smooth skin a stark contrast to his own, and she wondered how it must feel. To have her as a part of him. Did it feel any different? The sight of it made something odd roil in her chest; a stunning mixture of curiosity, vague disgust, and a pleasant warmth that no matter what he did or how their partnership ended, he would always carry that little part of her whether he liked it or not.

However, that was a discussion which she hadn't broached yet but it was always there ticking away in the back of her mind.

Despite knowing that he was perfectly capable, Lucy found her offer of her sewing skills being met with quick acceptance and Cooper had moved like hell itself as he sourced her a table and room to work, securing their accommodation for the night in an old storage unit which was little more than two rooms filled with old, empty crates and not much else.

She set to work as diligently as she had the rest of the miserable and shitty tasks he assigned to her, each designed to test her skills or teach her a valuable lesson in survival. This though, she had taken to with a small smile, the repetitive and willing task remindering her of a more simple time back in her vault. Sewing circle with the others had been a blast of fun and constant gossip and she did miss it at times.

A memory stirred as Cooper watched her from his standing position a few feet behind her turned back. He saw Barb, sitting at their kitchen table doing much the same as she mended the tears in his pants after he'd taken a tumble off one of the more unstable stallions. But, just as quickly as it arose, he banished the memory away as he often did with thoughts of his ex-wife - the hurt which accompanied them making him instantly sour and grow more volatile than he would like.

Since discovering his previous life as an actor, Lucy's attitude and actions around him had been different and, more than once, he had caught her staring at him with those big, doe eyes of hers. What was surprising more than anything was that the attention didn't irritate him as much as he thought it would and he wasn't ignorant to the slight blush that stained her cheeks when he caught her making a moon face at him.

Seemed that Lucy Maclean had developed herself quite the little liking to him and he had taken that discovery into his stride with a smug gleefullness. He had always been a proud man and to have such an attractive thing interested in him had cracked open a facet of his personality that had long since closed itself off to the world.

Cooper Howard had always been a flirt, incorrigible in his prime, and those mean little teases which he afforded Lucy punished him as much as her as he refused to follow up on them. He hadn't lied when he said Lucy Maclean wasn't ready for him and that same pride refused to allow him to take any real advantage of her, knowing that in the long run, she'd probably thank him for not poisoning her with his own bullshit.

But still, he lived for the game and this was just another way to play. A bit of fun to pass the time until they had dealt with her daddy and he had found the truth of his daughters' whereabouts.

If he were honest with himself, a feat in its own given his choices, something unfamiliar and warm tugged at his stomach every time he considered the fact that Lucy's fancies had taken root with him as he was now. Not Cooper Howard, famed movie star, but Cooper Howard, ghoul and scourge of the wastelands. It was a feeling locked away with the end of the world he had known and better left by the wayside.

Besides, it was much easier to channel that warmth into some playful teasing.

Pressing himself firmly against her as she leaned diligently over his coat, his stomach was flush against her back and he felt the shiver which rolled down her spine as he engulfed her senses. She hid it well, could have easily passed it off as a natural reaction to a monster forcing its way into her personal space, but Cooper knew better.

"Don't take an attitude with me, vaultie. Your damn fault it ripped in the first place. Lucky for you that I'm a kindly man and I ain't ripping your shirt off to keep us on that equal streak we've been enjoying these last few weeks."

Her head snapping up vertically to face him as he loomed over her, Lucy's expression was as open as ever to him as he took in the torrid mixture of irritation, focus, and mild arousal which his determined positioning was causing her.

And just like that, there was that little flush of colour, sitting high on her cheeks and making him hold back a smirk as he at played her like an old fiddle.

"My shirt wouldn't fit you." Was her impressive comeback after a few silent moments of intense consideration, her mouth set into a proud line as she made her point.

"Never said I'd be wearing it, sweetheart." Cooper answered, pushing her head even further back into his stomach with the pressure of a single finger on her forehead. "What I did say is that you would be losing it. I mean, that's your golden rule, after all. Do unto others what you'd have done unto you? Hrm?"

"I never took your jacket." Lucy defended hotly.

"Well it's between your hands, ain't it?"

"Only because-"

"Enough arguing, darling." Cutting her off to frustrate her evern further, Cooper dropped his hands to the pockets of his filthy slacks. "Now I'm gonna leave on a scouting trip for five, maybe six hours, so you get that jacket all patched up and looking pretty and I'll see about forgetting what I was talking about."

Silently seething but perking up at the thought of getting to enjoy some alone time as her back felt wickedly hot from Cooper standing flush against her skin, Lucy did everything in her power to not think about the slight bulge which pressed between her shoulder blades nor the infuriating man it belonged to.

"Whatever." Lucy announced after a pause, nodding her head forward once more as she went back to mending his coat with dexterous fingers. "Try to pick up something freshly killed on the way back because your latest batch of ass jerky tastes like shit."

Having taken to calling anything Cooper hunted and cooked 'ass jerky', Lucy had yet to actually try any of his cannibalistic delicacies and, even more surprising, Cooper had never actively offered her any; appearing to almost go out of his way to find excuses for her to be denied it.

Chuckling at the rare swear from her, a sign that she was truly annoyed with him, Cooper tutted his disapproval with a soft headshake.

"Sounds good to me, valutie. Maybe you should see about washing that filthy fucking mouth out with soap before I return, huh?"

x-x-x-x-x

Arriving back from his scouting trip a few hours earlier than he expected to, Cooper heard nothing as he silently entered the first room of the storage unit. A quick hunt had pulled up nothing too fresh so shit-tasting ass jerky was back on the menu for another night for the little food critic vaultie.

Cooper dropped his gun and holster to the top of a nearby storage box, the lock rusting and clearly having been opened through sheer brute force many years previously. Against all odds, he had found himself actively missing his coat as he traversed the vast dusted grounds which surrounded the storage unit.

So used to its presence, the absence of the familiar feel of the softened leather pressing against his shoulders had made him feel oddly vulnerable as his fingers flexed and twitched towards phantom pockets. He had been quick to the trigger, gun pulled and pointed at the slightest noise as his heightened senses refused to allow him to relax on the small trip.

And, as much as it irritated him, the thought of the little vaultie hunched over his coat and fixing it up like a kept housewife amused him in a way which he found hard to pin down.

Speaking of the little vaultie, her absence in the main room was odd; particularly since the table she had preciously occupied with his coat was abandoned. It was an absence which made him curious rather than worried as she would not have left without him or without having achieved their shared goal of knocking her daddies teeth down his smug throat.

No.

She was too smart to leave.

So that would mean...

Peering in through the rounded window which sat near the top of the door that led to the second room, Cooper had to press his lips together in an instant as his cock stiffened in his pants and his eyes widened at the filthy sight which awaited him.

Unaware that Cooper's scouting trip had been cut shorter than anticipated, Lucy Maclean had apparently taken his absence as a rare excuse for some self-pleasure and, god-fucking-damn, did she seem to be enjoying herself.

Her upper body reclined against the metallic wall, her ass resting on a wooden crate as one leg hung loosely down the side of it, the other pulled up so her foot also sat atop the crate. Her knees were spread wide, the angle enough to allow her easy access to her dripping cunt without having to bend. Head tipped back against the wall, her fingers moved quickly between her slickened folds and Cooper couldn't bring himself to turn away even as shame at his own voyeurism trickled down his spine.

Falling loosely around her shoulders, Lucy's hair was in a wild state of disarray as the constant roll of her head against the wall had messed up any sense of order in the dark strands.

The only sounds in the immediate vicinity came from her, muted gasps and whimpers slipping free of her lips as her other hand split its attention between pressing against her mouth to muffle anything louder than a whine and pinching at her breasts; slender fingers rolling across her darkened nipples as they remained peaked in the warm air.

She was fucking beautiful and, as much as filthy shame continued to creep across his skin at watching her like this, Cooper found he couldn't tear his eyes away as his gaze filtered over her creamy skin, imagining how soft it would feel under his calloused hand and blunted teeth.

He knew that she had quite the little sex drive, her crossed arms having more than once demanded time or space to indulge her needs. In those moments, where she was commanding and confident in her expectations, an aspect of her personality that she didn't indulge nearly enough, he found it maddeningly endearing and it drove him more wild than she ever needed to know.

Snatching her fingers away from her left nipple, her hand dropped to something by her side and Cooper almost gave the game away as a lustful growl was quickly caught by the back of his gloved hand as his cock jerked within his slacks.

There, clenched between Lucy's fingers was his goddamn jacket; the mended leather bunching up between her digits as she simultaneously rode the fingers on her other hand - the fingers there moving in tandem and they stroked and pinched and fucked into her cunt with a steady rhythm.

"Cooper." She muttered and a sensation, not unlike freezing cold water being shucked across his body, tensed Cooper's spine as he realised he'd been caught. However, the panicked feeling passed just as quickly as Lucy's soft voice followed up with a very breathy. "Please."

She was thinking about him and that revelation was almost enough to have him shooting off in his pants like a schoolboy. Her eyes remained closed, fingers moving even more quickly as they slipped from steadily pumping within her to circle around her clit, teasing herself as she imagined him.

Thought about him.

Pictured his fingers in place of her own.

Feeling very hot under the collar and fighting the urge to say 'to hell with it' and announce himself, Cooper dropped the heel of his gloved hand to his groin - rubbing at his trapped cock through the fabric as he watched her. Fresh shame, hot and heavy, swept across his irradiated skin as his tongue slipped free to lick as his dry lips.

There had been an old fling, a women he'd met on a hunt about a decade before the whole shitshow with Don Pedro had gone down. A ghoul like him, she was hellfire in a handbag and quicker with a gun than most of the slingers he'd met.

She'd caught him at a sloppier time in his past and he had taken full advantage of their whirlwind mess to indulge his own worst traits. The chem flowed easier in those times and the other drugs she scored made the hard days all the sweeter as they snorted and fucked and inhaled themselves into a proper mess.

However, even that didn't last and one day he had awoken from a stupor to find that she had disappeared and moved on without him.

Fuck, he couldn't even remember her name, but what he could remember was the feeling of her lips on his cock and the way she could perfectly balance a powdered line on his chest as she bit her way down his skin, occasionally drawing blood and making him gasp.

She had been as rotten as him, just two ghouls numbing themselves to the state of the world for a couple of weeks as they waited for the inevitable to take them.

Hell, some of the shit they got up to would probably blow the vaulties head clean off if he described them to her. But then, she was so different to the rest that he couldn't help but wonder how she liked it.

Would she grit her teeth and moan through the pain as he fucked himself inside her, stretching her out to accommodate his size? Or would she grin that little feral smile he'd seen playing on her lips when she achieved some bloodstained victory and push back at him to demand more?

His cock twitched against his palm, the length feeling more uncomfortably trapped as he rubbed himself through his slacks, not quite trusting himself to pull it free. It was torture but, lucky for him, he was used to that by now.

Goddamn Lucy Maclean and her wicked ways had him pawing at himself like a mindless beast. Like one of those mutated things that roamed the outskirts of the desert with nothing but base desire guiding its thoughts.

Rolling his tongue against his teeth, he could imagine how good she would feel under his mouth. Her soft skin, pillowy and firm between his teeth as he teased the strength of it; biting enough to threaten the unblemished creaminess as she arched her back and pressed harder into his mouth. The taste of her sweat, fresh and mounting, as he trailed his mouth lower, lips teasing their way along her hips and inner thighs until she was a trembling mess ready for him to consume her like she knew he wanted.

In her panicked babble as she had first offered him sex, she had tried to offer the use her mouth and he gazed at her lips now, plump and wettened by her own tongue, and he could almost feel the wicked softness of them wrapped around his cock; her greedy tongue pulling him deeper as he gripped her hair within his hand and met her eyes while he buried his cock deep within her clenching throat.

Lost in the fantasy, his thoughts boldened by his voyeurism as he watched her curl her fingers expertly within her cunt, Cooper came with a muted grunt - the disgrace of his release instantly trapping within his pants as the sticky mess quickly irritated him with how heated and uncomfortable it felt.

Lucy still wasnt finished, her casual edging of her own pleasure only making her move more slowly as she built herself back up to the point of release. Her grip on his coat flexed with each pump of her fingers as she enjoyed herself, still unaware of the struggling ghoul who observed her with heated eyes.

Backing away from the door with regret etched in the lines of his features, Cooper silently exited the storage unit once again as he recalled a nearby barrel of water - the stagnant liquid probably decent enough to allow him to clean off his mess and hide all evidence of his unexpected show.

Her innocent question rattled through his mind once more, the weeks old offer still as fresh as ever in its casualness.

Do you want to have sex?

And, after that little taste, Cooper felt a weight lift off his shoulders as he settled on the fact that, yes, if Lucy Maclean - with her big eyes and busy fingers - asked him again, then he would take her up on her very generous offer, consequences be fucking damned.

Links to the rest of the series:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

#VERY fond of this chapter ngl. voyeurism is always a beloved #lucy maclean #cooper howard #ghoulcy #ghoul x lucy #vaultghoul #cooper howard x lucy maclean #fallout tv series #fallout fanfic #fallout fic #cooper x lucy #lucy x cooper #lucy x ghoul #lucy maclean fanfic #cooper howard fanfic #fallout 2024 #walton goggins #ella purnell

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greyfics · 8 months ago

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even if it's handcuffed, I'm leaving here with you.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

pairing: the ghoul (cooper howard) x reader fic type: enemies to lovers, no smut, mild spice + eventual fluff slow burn meter: ◈◈◇◇◇ word count: 3.8K inspo: TPD lyric prompt list, reblogged on main reader type: assumed wastelander background, gender neutral, 'I don't need a knight to save me', assumed negative views of BoS, assumed gun for hire cw: strong language, violence, reference to fictional drugs, mild dismemberment summary: reader is a gun for hire who has gotten themselves into a bit of trouble in the form of a moderate bounty with a local segment of the brotherhood- and cooper howard knows he can get all the drugs he needs for what seems like an easy job.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

"We can do this all day, darlin'. Even if it's handcuffed, I'm leavin' here with you." you feel the pressure of a pistol barrel pressing against the base of your skull from behind, and a disgruntled, defeated sigh slips through your lips. The game is up- you're out of ammo, down to the ripper hanging from your side, and 'gun against the brain-cage' is the indisputable checkmate.

Up to this point, you'd been pretty successful in shaking off the swathes of bounty hunters and jet-scrounging raiders that'd been on your tale since you became an enemy to the brotherhood- which, nowadays, seemed to be a pretty fucking easy feat to accomplish. The rusty knights were getting a little big for their oversized, several-tonne boots- and you had never been a fan of self-asserting authorities using their power in the name of 'order', especially not when they could hardly organise their own little sectors across the expansive, sparse remains of the USA.

As good with a revolver as you are, today it seems your luck has ran out and your karma has caught up with you, because you've finally met your match in a ghoul with a face so smug you wish you at least had a chance to slap it before losing the game of cat and mouse you'd been playing for a couple days now across Junktown. Your face collides into concrete and a quick click combines with the feel of steel against your wrists, The Ghoul's threat having evolved into a promise.

You spit a ball of blood and saliva from your mouth, wrought up by the hard impact with the ground below, "Alright, you win this round you freak- I'll come with you, just get these off of me." You hear a smirk from above, "Now how stupid do you fuckin' think I am? No, I gave you a chance to come willingly, you chose to shoot me in the leg. Lucky I ain't returned the favour." He gives you a light, sharp kick in the side with the tip of his boot, "Up. We got a long way to travel, and sooner we get there, sooner I get paid. I'll be reminding you now that I only get a bonus for bringing you alive, so make my life hell and I'll live without the extra caps." "Not exactly easy when my-" you hear the chick of a safety being cocked, and awkwardly shuffle back until you can jut sharply up onto your knees and slowly stand, turning to glare daggers into your now captor. The Ghoul's expression remains stiffly affixed with the wry, smug facade he bears: relaxed, squinting eyes peeking out above a thin, ever-upturned lip- you swear to yourself to you'll smack that smile off his face- but by all accounts, beneath the withered, decaying skin that had festered in his ghoulish transformation, the man had the stature (and admittedly, the jawline) of a filmstar.

You shake off the irritable possibility of monster like this getting lucky with the gene pool as a calloused hand secures a vice grip on one of your wrists and tugs you in suit as it's owner sets into motion, dragging you away from the remnants of an old civilisation and towards a military base miles away you are all too acquainted with.

You had been so caught up in the wild ride of adrenaline that came with being on the lamb that you briefly detached yourself from the catalyst of the chase- but as concrete and clay inevitably crumbles away to distant sandy dunes and cacti, the dread stirs in your stomach like a plague. It was easier to wave off the consequences of your actions when you weren't being marched towards the gallows to face them- it wasn't like you made an attack on the organisation. You kill one knight trashing up a town in the name of redundant technology, and suddenly you're on a hit-list. You know The Ghoul probably doesn't know this, and you know for certain that even if you tried to give the man a sob story he wouldn't care. This was it. "You about to be sick?" You snap from your pessimistic daze at the sudden interruption of silence, "No. Why?" "You look like you just ate a mouldy iguana, that's why- and I don't want sick on my boots." You let out an irked groan, and sharply snap your head to face the horizon in the opposite direction to your captor. You hope this will satiate his sour jabs for the time being-

Your hope is crushed five minutes later.

"Go on then. I'm bored shitless and I'm outta jet, so spill." He says with an almost theatrical exasperation in his voice, "Spill what, exactly?" you coldly respond in a mute tone, focus still fixed on the horizon to the west, "Well what's the big story? Someone's always gotta be the victim when they got a bounty on their head, so what's the tragic tale behind 'Y/N', huh?" the muscles in your neck and shoulders tense up at the mention of your name- you weren't exactly a known associate or long-time rival to the brotherhood, and the wanted poster you had wrestled from the stiff fingertips of a raider last week only had a sketch and a scrawled account of the incident. You falter for a moment before replying, but ardently avoid taking the bait, "If your plan is to get me to tell you how we got to where we are right now just so you can mock me, then I think I'd rather carry on enjoying the view, if you don't mind." The sweet-toned sarcasm at the end of your sentence seeps with venom, and the hostility it implies does not slip away from your adversary.

This time, his laugh is a soft, whisper of a chuckle- something spiteful, foreboding- followed by matching words, "You should hear what your little community had to say about you for a couple caps and a promise not to shoot anybody- well, anybody else-" his words cut into something personal, then- and though you would normally know that attacking someone with your hands cuffed behind your back is never going to end in your favour, at this moment you couldn't care less as you swing your leg round in a swift roundhouse motion, and raise your knee towards the only place you can think to leave a mark-

You hit your target, but instead of howls of pain you are met with a split second of awkward silence as the ghoul cocks his head, unimpressed, before slamming it into your own, sending you staggering back a few paces-

Before you can reorient your vision, a heavy dull force plummets into your ribs- the sand cushions your blow slightly better than the concrete you met face-to-face with an hour ago, at least. Your arms, however, are not grateful to be pressed beneath you as a familiar, withered hand pushes into your throat, putting as much pressure on your trapped limbs when your upper body presses back as it does on your esophagus, halting your air supply as he lowers himself down to a kneel and fixes your gaze onto his,

"If I wasn't already a walking corpse, that could've really hurt- not a very nice thing to do to someone just tryna have a little bit of light conversation now, is it?" All you can do is glower through eyes blinded by the sun, which gleams behind the shadow of the ghoul's head, bearing on it a smile tweaked with frustration- you need to breathe- you can't keep this up, your heartbeat is louder than the sun in your eyes and-

The pressure releases. You turn your head to the ground and suck in air between dry, heavy coughs, and after you've finally steadied your breath, you find a minor fleck of relief in being hoisted up from the ground this time instead of scrabbling to get up at gunpoint. You wonder, perhaps, if this is some small act driven by guilt- perhaps this man had a conscience once and a set of values beyond doing what it takes to ensure one's own survival. You were a gun for hire yourself, so it would be hypocritical to criticise your captor for his line of work- mostly, you preferred to stick with jobs guarding merchant caravans and to take out bands of raiders harassing the cities you passed through, but you never questioned the legitimacy of the requests you received, or the cargo you oversaw; you had settled for a little while, having stuck around the same little settlement for a few years now and had started to develop some semblance of a connection to the people there-

or so you thought.

You know you're going to be walking for a while- so with a resigned breath, you begin saying what little there is left to say about your present situation, "Well, you probably know most of what I can tell you from the sounds of things, but I guess there's nothing else for me to do right now, and the horizon is the same no matter where you go around here. I guess you could say we're in similar lines of work, but that's not really what got me in trouble with The Brotherhood. They think they can rock up in a power armour with a logo on it and wreak havoc as they please because it's for 'the greater good', but they leave towns half-destroyed when they pass through. I didn't want that to happen to... well, I didn't like the sound of that happening where I was. So, dude gets out of his power armour and starts waving guns around screaming about some piece of pre war tech or the other, and I tell him with... a strong choice of words, to get going. He starts running for the power armour, guns blazing- and I just have better aim, I guess. Not even like I got paid for killing him, either. Maybe that would've made this whole thing a little bit sweeter."

Your profession leaves a silence hanging in the air for a little while after, but it feels appropriate. The dunes filter sand from the far west to respond to your story- the horizon quivers, but only through the illusion of heat; the sand dries your eyes before they have reason to shed tears. A loaded sigh escapes the ghoul in front of you, and the clasp on your wrist softens but for a moment before stiffening to pull you onwards, "Yep, well, caps keep you going a little longer round these parts, but money can't solve all your problems." "You should tell that to the Brotherhood. They seem to be doing pretty well for all the wealth they've hoarded- can even pay big time bounty hunters to do their shitwork from the looks of things." You retort, but after a moment follow up with, "Wish I could say I was upset about it but hell, if I were you, I'd turn me in too."

You hear that soft chuckle again, but when you turn around to catch a look at the face that matches it, you see relaxed muscles and a far-off stare- he won't let you go, but he has let his guard down but a little bit- perhaps when we get closer to my story's end, he'll even let me walk to my death with my hands unbound.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

After trudging on in silence for a while, head bowed to your fatalistic contemplations, you find as you drag yourself out of the pit in your head and look over the horizon once more that the scene has changed: the atomic orange dewdrops spattering the sky not long ago have quickly to faded into a bruised overhanging shadow of violent, lavender, crimson; twilight approaches, and you're still surrounded by desert hills and illusions.

One of these illusory quivers catches your sharp eye, a dark blip that has appeared somewhere in that distance; it's moving, but it isn't close enough for you to determine whether it's just a trick of the heat or whether it's something heading in your direction. Your brow furrows, but you say nothing yet.

Within a minute, the object comes into better focus- or, rather, the creature. Your heart skips a beat, and you open your mouth to utter some kind of warning, managing to rasp, "Get the handcuffs off of me." "Now, darlin', I thought we managed to get past this already-" "No-" You tug your bound wrists, pulling the ghoul into your side- his other arm steadies itself against your shoulder before slipping up to your jaw and dragging it to face him, his own clenched and unaccompanied by a smile this time- the pallid complexion of your own face gives him enough pause for you to blurt in a fruitless, strained whisper, "Deathclaw."

If The Ghoul's skin could have paled more than it already had in his lifeless state, then it might have at that moment. The tight grip holding you against him slackens completely and you thud onto your ass as he draws his guns and casts you a playfully pitiful glance from above, shrugging and saying, "Sorry, darlin', guess I forgot to pick up the keys." He steps in front of you as a curse rips out of your throat in the sudden panic that ensues, and you try to muster enough brain cells in this moment to figure out a way of not dying, prematurely, and becoming just another skeletal curio.

There's the back-up plan, the 'if shit goes south' plan that you still hadn't gone through with because of the possible dismemberment that it might entail- but you had not been unarmed when you had been restrained earlier, and the phantom hum of a ripper blade always strapped to your waist as your last resort. You won't be able to wield it with any competence with your hands restrained as they are, but you can hit the power button from your current position-

Though, usually, you'd prefer to do it when the blade was already in your hand, not digging into the side of your leg.

shredded leg is better than deathclaw snack. Your astute analysis confirms your decision, and with a grunt and a whack, the blade starts chugging into a steady whirring action by the will of the dregs of an energy cell embedded inside- the next couple of seconds are far too long.

The blade begins it's excursion into your thigh as the gunslinging ghoul whips around at the sound, eyes wide at the sudden display of spraying crimson. You scream, struggle to try to align the cuffs without jerking your shoulders out of place. The deathclaw bounds into the mid-distance, closing in upon it's approach- it caught your scent before you could even see it's silhouette-

The tip disappears as your leg reflexively jerks, responding to the dancing jig of the chainsaw blade- you see pathetic sparks as the thing bounces off of the cuffs- strong enough to sever a leg, too rusted and battered to cut through metal. Your plan is failing. Your leg is bleeding. The cowboy falters as the deathclaw closes further-

You make a snap decision: fingers are easier to fix than legs.

You twist your wrist, and the pain just melts into the already existing burn emanating from your leg- a bloody, three-fingered stump slips from it's cage, and you swing your still-cuffed hand around in a fluid movement to drag the ripper from its sheath within your leg, snapping the cord that ties it to your waist-

You hear a frenzied firing of a revolver, but the approaching thunks are unimpeded- and though you know your leg may give way when the adrenaline finally dies, and though you know you need to find the two fingers you lost before sand vipers snatch them up and you're known as three-fingered y/n for the rest of your life- you launch yourself from the ground on your good leg, and stagger towards the approaching beast.

You grew up in the wastelands. You grew up in a settlement up here that, like any of the rest, was constantly plagued by critters and beasts- and if you were taught anything by the survivors that surrounded you, it was the following:

If you can't blow the bastard up, get 'em in the belly.

The deathclaw- a baby, thankfully- has it's gaze fixated on the man that had in the past half a minute become it's primary aggressor- so when you stumble forward, low and bleeding, with what to the creature is just another indistinguishable bit of metal in your hands, it does not see reason to change the track of it's jump.

As it launches itself above you, you pray to lady luck that you hit your mark.

An ear-splitting yowl and a sudden muffled crash tells you she's listening, for once.

Finally, after a few ragged breaths, the adrenaline wears off and you feel the weight of your body pressing into the wounds that liberated you- and the blueberry sky fades to black as you become weightless. This time, your fall is of your own accord- and this time, something stops you from hitting the ground.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

When you come to, you do not open your eyes at first- awake though you might be, your body is heavy with exhaustion. Before your encounter with the ghoul, you had been on the run for weeks, and in the last twenty four hours had not had time to stay put long enough to sleep. Coupled with the rough journey and the blood loss, you couldn't move if you wanted to. That being said, in those few dark minutes, a few things of note still catch your attention.

There is a faint crackling to your side, and the lulling warmth of a fire that brushes in waves against your face- and though you feel the silky grains of sand cushioning most of your resting body, your head lays higher up, neck leaning up to a more elevated surface- your attention snaps to the light sensation of fingertips absently grazing your neck in a repeating pattern, and the distant hum of an old country song embedded into muscle memory. The surrounding sensations are a strange comfort for all the brutal imagery this post apocalyptic world usually beholds; but it is brief, as your neck tenses, giving away your lucidity. The hand pauses, lifts- settles somewhere to the side.

When you dare to open your eyes, you are unsurprised to see the question-begging smirk and sharp eyes peering down from above, "Have a good nap?" You bolt upright, and immediately regret it when the bending of your leg snags one of the stitches you didn't know had been sewed into you until just now. Defeated, you flop back down, turning your head to the side to gaze into the dying embers of the fire beside you- praying you can brush off the flush of blush creeping into your face to the influence of the fire. Eventually you garner the courage to speak, "Feels like I've only been out for an hour." He snorts, shaking his head, "You went down around sunset, and it'll be sunrise in a couple hours." This catches you by surprise, and not just because of the amount of time you've lost, "What happened to getting your caps as soon as possible? Lost a lot of time waiting." He frowns, but does not lose his grin, "You trying to get yourself killed? 'Cos you've done a damn fine job of that so far. No, I've just been doing some thinking." "Congratulations. I'm proud of you." His eyes narrow into slits and he tuts at your sarcasm, following your gaze into the fire, "See, it could be argued that I would've been minced ghoul splattered n' buried six feet under the dunes if you hadn't gone all psycho slicing yourself up like that to get that baby deathclaw where it hurts." "That was a baby?-" "Anyway, guess my point is I might be willing to do a lot of things, but I still got my principles- only human thing I got left, probably. So I'd say I owe it you to not kill you at least. When you can walk, we'll go east to- well, to what's left of Shady Sands, and then you can do whatever the fuck you want."

You consider his words, and not knowing how to express appreciation or what to begin to make of this mysterious stranger and his obscure appeal, you find yourself rejecting this suggestion, though you don't know why- and so naturally, you dig yourself into a hole, "Well, you could also say that I would have died of blood loss if you didn't stitch my leg up." He studies you then for a minute, before shrugging and clasping your hands together at the wrists. You begin to stammer indecipherable protest and with a smirk he pulls you up, your hands still held rigid in your lap by his own, his head resting on your shoulder as he murmurs, "Now, I'm starting to get the impression you want me to march you up to our friends at the brotherhood just to keep my company." If he can't see the warm hue in your face now, he can certainly feel the heat flushing through your flustered face- you fight against the feeling, if only to make sure you stand a chance of winning this little exchange,

"Says the man who watched me sleep all night." You feel him shrug your comment off as his grin extends, "I might look like a monster, but I was a gentleman once upon a time. Like I say, I got principles." He lets you slip forward out of his grasp when you move to shuffle yourself around. As you do, you feel for the first time you are looking at him properly, sincerely- face to face, on equal grounds, with no threats of death or necessary facades of false confidence. After soaking in as much as you allow yourself to without losing yourself to curiosity entirely, you crossing your arms across your chest, and reply,

"Well, I have principles too- and if you're oh so graciously not turning me into the brotherhood then I still I owe you, so I guess I'll just have to stick around until you nearly get yourself killed again- that's all. No other reason." The ghoul rises, resting a hand on his pistol,

"You tell yourself that, darlin'- I'm gonna enjoy this change of scenery, I think."

#greyfics ✰°.• ➸ [ 01 ]#greyfics ✰°.• ➸ [ cooper howard ]#greyfics ✰°.• ➸ [ fallout ]#greyfics ✰°.• ➸ [ x reader ]#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #fallout fanfic #cooper howard fanfic #the ghoul fanfic #x reader #greyfics #fallout tv series #I know that the way I used the lyric does not match the lyric but hey don't knock the weird literal train of inspiration #may rewrite to polish a couple details nagging at me but have put way too much time into fidgeting around with the words for now hehe #also I feel like this definitely has second part potential if I want to divvy into it in the future so #note to self for that one

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pixel-percy · 12 days ago

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🎬 Newly divorced actor, Cooper Howard, finds comfort in his personal assistant when he needs it the most. 🎬

🎬 Word Count: 19.6k 🎬 Music Vibes: West Coast Love by Emotional Oranges 🎬 Warning(s): Smut (piv/unprotected, brief mention of others), very light exhibitionism, make-outs/heavy petting, semi-canon universe, post-divorce drama (+ the angst that comes with it), brief alcoholism, accusations of infidelity, age gap (consensual, reader mid-20s), workplace power imbalance (consensual), & brief mention of blood 🎬 A/N: Holy shit. I did it. This is the longest fic I've ever written & it's complete! Pretty sure I started this back in June or July & have been working on it on & off ever since. I'm dropping this with a light proof read so if you spot any mistakes, no you don't lol May also add to the warnings if I feel like I missed any, but, yeah. I had such a blast writing for pre-Ghoul Cooper so I hope you enjoy it as much as I do <3

The moment you stepped into Cooper’s house, the scent of cigarettes washed over you and the steady sound of idle chatter filled your ears. Most of the attendees ignored you in favor of rubbing elbows with potential business partners and movie deals and, those who did recognize you, greeted you with warm smiles and sometimes exuberant shouts of your name. You did your best to return each greeting—a cheek kiss here, a handshake there, a narrow dodge of an errant hand guided by booze—and maneuvered through the crowd expertly. You hadn’t spotted him yet.

A hand on your elbow called your attention toward the feeling and you managed to catch a glimpse of Sebastian Leslie, one of Cooper’s close friends, as he leaned close to your ear. You smiled, mostly for the attendees, and leaned into him a bit, hand against his forearm. Curious eyes passed over you both momentarily but moved on just as quickly when they realized who you two were.

“He gave her the divorce papers before the party,” he whispered loud enough for you only to hear. “It’s been an hour and he hasn’t shown his face once.”

Your smile hadn’t faltered for a moment, adjusting his ascot and squeezing his upper arm reassuringly.

“I got it,” you said and turned away from Sebastian. Truthfully, you didn’t know if you did have it, this entire thing with Barb had him acting distant and slightly cold to everyone that wasn’t Janey.

You’d done your best to just stay out of his way, handled anything that was asked of you without much complaint, and generally just tried to make his life easier while he navigated the treacherous terrain that had become his home life. Which is what made this all the more difficult—the Vault-Tec deal, his new movie, and the party at hand at the result of them both. Hollywood stars and scientists mingled all in the same space awaiting the man of the hour… unaware of what was happening behind closed doors. But that was a problem for tomorrow you and tomorrow Cooper.

“Nice dress, by the way,” Sebastian commented. It was, in fact, the nicest thing you currently owned, even if it had been the very thing you wore under your college graduation gown a few years prior. White and gold, with swirls and florals, no sleeves, a modest front, and a deep v in the back that stopped at a bow. The skirt was asymmetrical, showing off your legs and a pair of cute heels you saved for parties like this. You were a P.A not a starlet after all. You did a little twirl for Sebastian which earned some laughter from you both before you left him completely.

The greetings continued on your path toward the stairs that you knew would lead up to his bedroom, the most likely place he’d be holed up in. Glasses clinked and boisterous laughter carried over the soft music, while you made your way up to the second floor where the partygoers hadn’t dared tread. The sounds of the party muffled with every step into the dimly lit hallway, framed movie posters lining the walls toward the door at the end of the path, ajar enough to let a sliver of light pour out. You reached out your hand to rap lightly on the wood.

“Mr. Howard?” you tried. A small, familiar woof hit your ears and soon you spotted a curious nose, sniffs loud, and tail wagging furiously. “Hey, Roosevelt,” you said affectionately, the door opening naturally as you offered him pets. “Where’s your dad at huh?” Roosevelt pulled away and went back into the room as if requesting you to follow. You did so cautiously, not wanting to intrude if Cooper wasn’t decent, and closed the door behind you. “Mr. Howard?” you called again.

“In here!” he finally answered back.

You moved further into the space until you spotted him in front of the large mirror beside his bed, a deep blue shimmery tie dangling from his neck and a yellow one with polka dots that he was holding up for comparison in one of his free hands. He sighed.

“So you’ve been stuck in here for an hour picking a tie?” you asked lightly, a soft smile on your lips. He spotted you in the mirror and gave a halfhearted chuckle.

“I guess so,” he said. You could tell he was deflated, and rightfully so. The blue of his attire was so deep it was almost black—on brand as always but subtle enough to feel like he was mourning something. Appropriate but in combination with his tone, it made you feel sad. He wasn’t just your boss for the last couple of years, he was your friend, and you cared about him, about his family. It hurt you to see them being torn apart like this but you knew it had to be for a reason… a world-shattering one to bring divorce into it.

You stepped a bit closer, smile and tone still soft.

“May I, Mr. Howard?” you asked and held out a hand. Cooper turned to you with heavy eyes, lingering on your face in a way that made you want to pull him into a tight hug, but you resisted. He held out the tie for you to take and you did so, approaching him and laying the fabric gently against his shoulder to compare. You could feel his eyes on your face as you contemplated between the two items that had supposedly kept him in his bedroom this long.

“Be honest with me…” he whispered. “Did I royally fuck this all up?” Your eyes tilted up to his, a tight-lipped smile growing as you considered him. It was a vulnerable question. He was hurting, you could see it in the way he held himself, the slouched shoulders, semi-puffy eyelids, and the tone of his words. Meaningful conversations were not uncommon for the two of you, especially when he felt out of his depth about something or needed reassurance, but you hadn’t expected him to even mention the divorce to you right now.

“I think…” you started, cautious again. “You love Janey and Barb, so so much.” Your fingers wrapped around the tie that’d been hanging loosely around his neck so you could gently remove it. His eyes flicked to your movements briefly before returning to your face. You tossed the pieces of fabric onto the dresser. “And if whatever made you feel like this was the right course of action… Well…” You adjusted the collar of his shirt—the top two buttons were undone already in that casual style he liked—and brushed the shoulders of his deep blue, velvety blazer. You looked him directly in the eye. “I think you should trust your gut.”

Cooper returned the gaze. He nodded slowly, your words absorbed like water in limestone. You stepped back and removed your hands from his shoulders, but stopped when you felt his fingers wrap around your wrist, just enough pressure to keep you from turning away. He gave you the biggest smile he could muster and put both his hands over yours.

“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for being here. For everythin’ lately.”

“Of course,” you replied and squeezed his hands back with yours. It felt like he was tethering himself back to reality in a way, the veil of his pain and heartache lifting enough for him to feel a little closer to normal. Only a little though. “You sure you want to go out there? I can tell ‘em all to scram if you really want me to,” you offered, tone playful though you fully meant it. That earned an amused huff out of him and he released you, the warmth from his palms lingering on your skin.

“Nah, s’alright,” he said. You reached for the whiskey glass on the dresser that he looked to have been sipping from before you arrived; it was just under halfway full. The ice clinked against the sides of the glass as you handed it to him.

“I guess you’d better get out there, Mr. Howard.”

“It’d seem so,” he said, taking the glass from you. You watched him close his eyes and inhale deeply, finding his center again. Roosevelt whined softly from his dog bed. “Alright,” he muttered a little reluctantly. Cooper took a couple steps past you and you were content to follow behind him had he not stopped, your name leaving his lips as a question.

“Yes?”

“Just…” He nibbled at the inside of his lip and offered you his elbow. “Just Cooper tonight, alright? I need somebody to treat me like a normal person.”

“Sure thing, Cooper,” you said with a smile, taking the offer and giving him a reassuring squeeze.

“Thank you.” Cooper shifted his shoulders beside you, no doubt holding all of his tension there, and you made a mental note to schedule a spa day for him. You both walked toward the door. “You look lovely by the way, m’sure Sebastian was makin’ eyes at you.”

“Sebastian Leslie can keep his eyeballs to himself,” you said with a roll of your eyes and a smile. “I’m not interested.”

“Look at you, breakin’ the hearts of Hollywood’s most eligibles,” he said. You dug your elbow playfully into his side. “Come on, back to the wolves we go.”

“Last chance. I can still run ‘em off,” you said.

“You’re a terrifyin’ lil’ force of nature, but, unfortunately, these investors' pocketbooks are what’s gonna keep the lights on.”

“Then let’s put that movie star charm to good use,” you said.

“You think I’m charmin’? Psh. I remember distinctly hearin’ you call me a pain in the ass on set the other day,” he joked, sipping his whiskey.

“That’s because you were being a pain in the ass,” you responded coolly.

“Yeah… Yeah, I was,” he laughed—a genuine sound you were happy to hear given the circumstances—as the two of you left the room and traversed the hallway decorated in Cooper’s accolades back toward the bustling party.

Months had passed since the night of the party, tension inevitably brewing between Cooper and Barb every time he’d double or triple down on the divorce. You’d stayed out of their way, performing the necessary functions asked of you like you had already started to do, and offered an ear when asked of you. Barb never did though. In fact, it felt like she avoided you completely, probably because you were essentially an extension of Cooper by job, even when you did your best to show you held no animosity toward her.

You still didn’t know why Cooper even wanted the divorce. It wouldn’t have been fair to him, her, or Janey if you treated her differently. So you stayed quiet and offered pleasantries she often barely acknowledged. The day the divorce was finalized you had been waiting outside of the courthouse for Cooper, an unpleasant backdrop of paparazzi waiting for them to depart so they could prey on their misery.

Barb was the first to exit, sunglasses covering her eyes, but they didn’t block the passing look she gave you that felt like you had been stabbed in the chest. You’d learned that you were just another ‘casualty’ of the divorce, because not only would Cooper have gotten you regardless, but he also got primary custody of Janey too. So she was probably pissed. Even Cooper didn’t offer much, understandably so, requesting to be taken home immediately and to be left alone for the rest of the day.

All you could do was frown and try not to take it personally… but it was certainly hard not to at times.

Now, you felt your nerves ignite as you turned the engine of the car off in front of Barb’s new house. It was a deep feeling in your chest but one you couldn’t let get the better of you. So, you climbed out of your car, went around the other side, and opened up the back door for Janey whose expression had been sunken every day since the divorce.

You did your best to give her some normalcy when you could, to ease just how bad the divide between Cooper and Barb actually was, but no amount of ice cream, roller rinks, and other well-intentioned distractions could do that. Especially when her parents had both dived deeply into their work as their way to escape the pain.

“You want me to carry your backpack?” you asked, watching as the young girl fidgeted with her fingers.

“I don’t wanna go with, Mommy,” she muttered, practically a whisper. Your expression shifted into a frown but you expected this to happen at some point. Using the door to keep your balance in your heels—opting for a more casual pencil skirt and button-up combo today—you squatted beside her.

“Why not?” you asked. She shifted again, hesitating.

“I dunno, she’s just, never really home so I have to stay with Miss Leah most of the time.”

“But Miss Leah is nice though, isn’t she?”

“I guess,” she said. “But… But I have more fun with you and Daddy.” Your heart dropped a little. “Miss Leah doesn’t take me to the roller rink like you do.”

“It’s not a competition hun,” you said softly, which only made her frown. You held out your hands, palm up, and waited. Despite not being a child of divorce, you’d seen the repercussions of it in your friends growing up, and you could certainly empathize with her. After a few moments, she placed her hands into yours and you gave her a comforting squeeze, a tight-lipped smile on your lips. “Your parents are trying their best. I know that’s not what you want to hear right now, but I promise you it’s true.”

“Why did they get divorced?” she asked, small tears building in her eyes. This wasn’t a conversation you’d expected to have right now but, honestly, you couldn’t blame her… Your hands squeezed hers again.

“Unfortunately, I can’t answer that for them,” you said.

Janey’s mouth opened to say something else but her eyes flicked behind you and it closed immediately. You had a feeling you knew why so you gave her shoulder a little rub before standing, guess confirmed by the sound of a pair of heels behind you.

Barb, who’d left her porch to make her way down the walkway toward you both, eyes on her daughter.

“Janey, baby,” she said, arms open and waiting. Janey’s eyes flicked to you for the briefest moment as she hopped out of the car and embraced her mother.

“Hi, Mommy,” she responded.

You closed the door behind her, a little terrified to face Barb fully just from the general feelings you were getting, but you did so with hands on your hips and a smile.

“Hello,” you said. Her gaze turned to you, your name leaving her mouth in such a way that you could feel your nerves surge for a moment and a knot twist in your stomach. You cleared your throat. “Uh, Cooper said he’s going to pick her up next Sunday once his shoots are done—”

“Cooper?” she asked, smile twisting in a way that felt dangerous. You furrowed your eyebrows in slight confusion. “No more ‘Mister Howard’?... Interesting.”

Oh.

Oh no.

“Barb,” you tried, cautiously casual as you tried to deflect whatever she was trying to say.

“You can tell, Cooper,” she said and you took a deep breath. “We agreed on Friday.” Janey looked between you two. Your heart pounded. Nothing had happened between you two, where was this coming from? You’d never even entertained the idea of something like that nor had Cooper ever tried. He was your boss, this was his family, and your function was to make their lives as easy as you could.

“Yes, but he’ll be on set every day and I have to be there too, so he was hoping—”

Barb held up her hand. Your jaw clenched.

“Next time he needs to change his mind about our agreed schedule, he can call me himself instead of sending you.”

“He tried, but you didn’t pick up,” you said. Janey looked up to her mother before leaving her grip and making her way inside. Barb’s gaze followed her until she heard the door close and then turned back to you. Before she could say anything else, it was you who held up a hand. “I have nothing but respect for you, Barb. I always have. I’m just trying to help.”

“I’m sure you are,” Barb said, venom in her tone.

“Barb, please—”

“Just let him know I’ll figure it out. I always do,” she said and promptly turned away. You didn’t say anything in return, simply watched her disappear into the house, and you took a long, steadying breath. Your hands were shaking still when you climbed back into the driver’s seat.

The set was abuzz when you arrived, a stack of papers—a new version of the film’s script for Cooper to review—in the crook of one of your arms and a black coffee in your opposite hand. You weaved through all the busy bees, giving a few friendly nods, and headed directly for the trailers.

It was just before midday when you arrived on the lot, less shaken than your initial drive over from Barb’s, but still haunted by her words and expressions. You were completely innocent, never sparing a glance in Cooper’s direction in a way less than professional. He was never uncouth and never made an errant comment in your direction, his eyes were always on Barb. It wounded some part of you to know she thought you would do that to her.

Cooper Howard was your boss. That was that.

Your knuckles rapped at the door, the contents of the cup sloshing.

“Mr. Howard?” you tried over the sounds of all the bustling workers. Your knuckles hit the door again, this time so hard the coffee slipped out of the lid and almost threatened to stain the script gripped opposite of it. “Cooper?”

Still nothing.

An impatient sigh left you and, instead of waiting for his reply, you expertly utilized your fingers to open the door and stepped inside. The trailer was cool enough to combat the heat outside, a welcome reprieve, and it didn’t take you long to find Cooper. Your jaw clenched.

He was sprawled out on the dark leather couch, head propped up on the arm, and half-dressed in his costume for the movie. The spurs of the boot he had up on the other arm dug into the material, pants on with the top button popped, and his shirt completely undone which exposed his chest. It was like he’d made an attempt to get ready but never finished. His signature white cowboy hat was tilted down over his eyes.

“Cooper,” you said, trying to be firm enough to get his attention. His chest moved steadily up and down and when you took a step toward him, the distinct smell of whiskey hit your nose. Then you spotted it, a glass on the floor with his fingers loosely around the edges as though forgotten in his slumber. A tinge of frustration rippled through you and if you were honest with yourself, some disappointment, and it took all of your willpower and respect for Cooper not to just rip him off the couch and onto the floor. “Cooper.” Your voice was louder, tone much firmer, as you gave the boot dangling to the floor a nice kick.

“What the hell—” Cooper’s words slurred a little as he fixed his hat. “Oh, hey sweetheart.” The nickname fell on unappreciative ears and tumbled into the tension building in the space.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you said, irritation rising in your chest. “Are you drunk right now? When you’re supposed to be on set in 45 minutes?”

“Just had a coupl’a sips of whiskey s’all,” he responded, accent thicker than usual and riddled with sleep. With a controlled but frustrated sigh, you slapped the script onto the nearest surface—a little more gentle with the coffee—and stood next to the couch with your hands on your hips.

“Just a coupl’a sips,” you mocked. Cooper peaked out from under his hat.

“Hey, now, that ain’t nice,” he said as he pointed one of his index fingers at you. You moved the whiskey glass next to the coffee.

“Nice?” You gave an indignant huff, reaching down to grab onto his forearm. “You’re making my job a lot harder than it should be right now.” Cooper’s head lolled lazily, just like the rest of him, but he made what appeared to be an effort when you pulled him off the couch and to his feet. He wobbled, chest hairs tickling your hand as you tried to steady him. “I don’t have to be nice. I have to get you out on that soundstage.”

Cooper chuckled, the smell of liquor wafting over your nostrils, and said, “There she is. My own personal force’a nature.”

You looked up at his face finally, intending to show him just how much destruction you wanted to cause, and felt something unfamiliar pang throughout your body. It sat uncomfortably in your chest.

“Could topple’a building with that damn look,” he muttered.

Your heart thundered in your chest. This was the closest you’d ever been to Cooper for more than the few seconds a hug required—and you were hyper-aware of your hand still on his chest. You didn’t know what to do. You’d never seen him drunk like this, messy, let alone on set. He was always so professional, polite, and just generally kind to most people. You could almost always count on him to be in his right mind.

You pulled your hand away from him, only to feel him place his own over yours to keep it against his chest. Your entire body tensed.

“Cooper,” you warned, eyes holding his. The rich green-brown of his were muted by the shadow of his hat and minimal light in the trailer, but nothing could hide the way they searched your entire face and lingered on your lips. “You’re drunk.”

“Only a couple’a sips—”

“Your demeanor would beg to differ—”

“What’s it to ya, huh? Why do’ya care if I am?” he asked, drunken defensiveness in his tone. That struck you in a way that snapped you out of the haze you were teetering on the edge of. You pulled your hand away from him and took a full step back. A long breath released from your lungs, nostrils flaring. “Cooper Howard needs to be the prize fuckin’ horse all the time, huh?”

“Sugarfoot is the prize horse,” you responded in the same dry tone you’d provided Barb earlier in the day. Cooper swayed in place and chewed on the inner part of his lip while he considered you. Your dismissal wasn’t meant to be hurtful but you’d dealt with enough of the shockwaves of this divorce for one day.

“Then make the horse say the fuckin’ lines.”

“Maybe we should if you’re going to be drunk in your trailer—” You checked your watch, a gift for your first anniversary of working for him. “—Now 30 minutes before your call time.” Cooper sucked his teeth in response. “What happened to make you do this? Was it the director? Vault-Tec?... Barb?”

“Watch it now,” Cooper warned as he pointed at you again and took a step closer. You stood your ground.

“Or what, Mr. Howard?” you asked with a bit more venom, your frustration starting to boil over. “You're gonna fire the only person aside from your daughter who’s been truly looking out for you? Especially since the divorce?” Your hand moved, smacking his index finger away from you. His expression shifted momentarily, taken aback by the gesture. “I’ve already had to dodge Janey’s unanswerable questions about her parents and deal with Barb’s accusations today. So if you want to make an ass out of yourself on set, you sure as shit can do it on your own.”

You turned to leave. Cooper said your name and reached for you.

“No,” you said sternly with a face contorted in anger. “Sort your shit out and maybe I’ll see you on set tomorrow.” You opened the door but stopped just at the bottom of the steps when you heard your name again, turning ever so slightly to look at him. Cooper’s expression had shifted into one that was difficult to parse. A mixture of sadness and anger if you had to guess.

“Please… Don’t go,” he pleaded. The words hit you in the chest, posture straightening reflexively, and a frown on your lips as you shook your head.

“I won’t be your emotional punching bag,” you responded.

With that, you left the trailer and made the trek back through the set. A few eyes followed after you, confusion evident on their brow, but no one said a word. Except for the director who asked where Cooper was and where you were going.

“He’s still getting ready. Give him an extra 15. As for me, I’m taking the rest of the day off,” you said. The tone of your response must have made him think twice about pushing for more information, especially with the way your heels thudded against the ground with every purposeful step you took across the lot.

The heat was becoming unbearable for a reason that had to be solely influenced by your heightened emotions. In the back of your mind, Barb’s accusations rung loud and clear. Your fingers tingled with the memory of being on his chest, the thin sheen of sweat that had built up in his sleep dampening your skin… you rubbed the pads of each finger together subconsciously.

Cooper Howard was your boss. That had to be that.

The silence in your home was broken by the television and the soft snores of your golden retriever, Oliver, who’d cuddled up against your legs once you’d settled in for the night. You were half paying attention to the game show you’d landed on, mostly providing background noise as you scribbled notes in a book about screenplay writing.

It was a pastime of yours, a comfort really, something reserved for the quiet hours of your day. Some didn’t understand, like your parents, why you worked for a movie star daily, helped with movies and scripts, and still came home to read books about it all.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to deal with their questions often now that this was considered ‘your’ house. It was the one you’d grown up in and returned to after college. They thought about selling it numerous times, but since it was so close to Cooper’s—and many other Hollywood elite—they thought it better if you occupied it for now. Retirement was one hell of a paycheck for them and their sun tans were evidence of it every time they came back for the holiday of their choosing. Or sometimes… just not at all.

But you were okay with that.

Your eyes started to get heavy, words blurring on the page, and fingers loosening around your pen. You’d have succumbed to it if a sudden knock on your door didn’t startle both you and Oliver, who barked at the sound. The possibilities of guests this late were slim to none. Solicitors? At this hour? Your home didn’t have a gate like the movie stars around you so it sometimes made them feel bold…

Your eyebrows furrowed but you got to your feet as quietly as possible, adjusting your silk sleep shorts and matching camisole, and tiptoed into the entryway. Oliver followed close behind but stopped just behind you to observe. You moved up onto your tiptoes to gaze through the peephole, loose braid swaying against you with every movement. The person beyond it—

With a quick flick of your wrist, you unlocked the door, inhaled deeply, and pulled it open.

“Mr. Howard,” you said evenly through the medium-sized crack in the door. His lips tightened a little at your intentional professionalism.

Your eyes floated over him enough to see he was dressed down—the sleeves of his half-untucked blue button-up pulled up messily with the top three buttons undone, worn jeans you rarely saw him in, some even older-looking boots worn with dirt, and hair partially disheveled. In one hand he held a fast food bag with the logo of a chain you loved and in the other, a simple bouquet of your favorite flower.

“What can I do for you?” you added. The same flame you’d felt earlier in the day when you found him in the trailer was a fizzle of embers, barely a wisp of the same feeling. So you’d hear him out at the very least.

“I know it’s late,” he started, taking what you could only assume was a steadying breath. “But… I wanted to say I’m sorry for… earlier.” Cooper wiggled the bag a little in his hand. “If you don’t wanna hear my bullshit tonight I get it, I just figured apologizin’ face to face was better than a phone call—”

You pulled the door open more, wide enough to let him in the house, and he held your gaze for a long moment. The weight of it made you shrink a little, given your attire currently, but you stood as firm as you could beside the door waiting for him to enter.

“Alright,” he whispered. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He finally removed his eyes from your face once he’d stepped inside and Oliver, who’d waited so patiently despite the loud thumps of his tail, bolted to greet Cooper. His entire body wiggled with excitement as he sniffed the man’s legs. “Hey there Ollie,” Cooper said in a slightly higher pitch. “Kitchen’s through here right?” he asked, pointing to a room to the left of the staircase. You nodded as you closed the door. “Don’t worry, I got you a small fry too,” he said to Oliver who eagerly followed beside him to the kitchen.

Once he’d moved out of sight, you rushed back into the living room to grab the silk robe that you’d tossed off of you hours ago, fastening it tightly. You felt some of the self-consciousness dissipate and when you finally entered, you found Cooper opening up the bag of food and pulling out what looked to be two burgers and some fries, which he quickly rewarded Oliver, who’d been sitting patiently next to the island where Cooper had set the food.

“You, uh, got a vase I can put these in for you?” Cooper asked, nodding toward the bouquet. He seemed a bit timid, eyes on you, almost as if he thought you would regret your hospitality at any moment.

“I got it,” you answered and moved past him to open up one of the cupboards. Upon reaching in, the tips of your fingers grazed a clay vase that you knew. You pulled it down, gently placing it on the counter, and the lights of the kitchen reflected off of the carefully placed recycled pieces of colorful glass shards. It was a little project you’d done alongside Janey, who opted for recycled bottle caps for hers, and was an entire day of work—careful work—while babysitting her the year prior.

“Janey still has hers,” he commented as he placed a fry in his mouth. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips at that, always touched that Janey appreciates the little gestures you do for her. “She made some paper flowers for it, different colors for the people she loves in her life… Your favorite color’s in there too.”

You turned to him then and found him chewing on another fry, eyes flicking up to you. Your hand moved to the side of the vase, gently running your fingers against the material.

“That’s… so sweet,” you said softly.

“She’s real attached to you,” he added, just as soft. You believed that sentiment, you loved Janey, but you couldn’t help but feel how weighted that statement felt. Something was hovering behind it, like a shadow that danced on the edges of the light. His gaze stayed on you, expectant in a way, and that heat from earlier started to return. That tingle on your fingers…

Actual tingles. Pain.

“Ow!” you winced, pulling your hand away from the vase. You raised your hand to your line of sight, deep red trickling down your shaky index finger.

“Shit,” the two of you said in unison. Cooper was next to you in an instant, fingers pulling your hand toward him so he could inspect. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, you’d always known him to be a wonderful, attentive, husband and father, so why wouldn’t he be the same for his friends? But you still found yourself blinking in surprise, watching him intently.

“The hazards of artistic innovation,” you tried to joke. He huffed a laugh while still examining the cut.

“Don’t look too bad. You got a med kit somewhere?”

“Uh, bathroom, upstairs on the right.”

“Alright, go ‘head and wash it off, be right back,” he said and disappeared from the kitchen. Oliver followed him but didn’t leave the entryway to the kitchen, opting to wait within the line of sight of his small bag of fries.

You did as you were instructed and took a few steps toward the empty sink. The water flowed from the faucet onto your finger, blood clearing and flowing into the drain. It stung but your mind was elsewhere, occupied by Cooper’s energy tonight. His apology seemed genuine, the flowers and food thoughtful…

Maybe you were just in your head about what had happened in the trailer, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Cooper was your boss so it was usually you doing things like this for him, Janey, hell, even Barb when they were together. Taking care of them. Maybe that was it… Yeah. That was it.

You finished rinsing the cut just as Cooper came back into the kitchen, placing the supplies he’d grabbed on the counter next to you—some rubbing alcohol, ointment, a bandage, and one of the hand towels from your bathroom. He reached for your hand, holding it gently in the palm of his over the sink. The solution hit your finger and you winced a tiny bit.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s alright,” you reassured.

He took the washcloth next and dabbed thoughtfully, eyes on your finger like it was the most important thing in the world.

“I spent some time with Sugarfoot after the shoot. Tried to, uh, clear my head,” he started. You mumbled an ‘mhm’ as you watched his movements, the ointment sliding from the tube to the cut effortlessly. “It felt… wrong, without you there today.” You hummed, still feeling a little strange about seeing him that way. It wasn’t the Cooper you knew and from this talk, it felt like he knew that too.

“I think I might’a…” He sighed, wrapping your finger in the bandage. “I might’a been takin’ advantage of just how much you do for me every day. Keepin’ me on track, takin’ care of Janey…”

You noticed he was done tending to your wound but his hand didn’t move, yours lying in his palm as his fingers gently flexed around it. Your gaze turned up and caught his eyes searching your face for any objections. You surprisingly had none.

“I don’t appreciate you enough,” he said, tone sincere as the words panged in your chest. You couldn’t remember a time when Cooper had done something like this. Minor apologies occurred here and there, of course, but never like this.

“Cooper,” you said. You reflexively turned to look down at your hands, unsure how to react to the intensity of his stare. This was more than the casual breezy times you shared together as his assistant. Especially when you felt his fingers touch your chin to return your gaze to his. It was gentle enough for you to refuse the motion, to pull away, but you found yourself allowing it. That heat was back. It crept up the back of your neck into your cheeks the longer Cooper’s fingers remained on your chin.

“I apologize for my behavior earlier,” he said and dropped his fingers. The places they’d been felt like they’d lost something and you weren’t sure if you were disappointed or not. “You’re not my emotional punchin’ bag. You’re one of the most important people in my life and I don’t want my stupid fuckin’ decisions when I’m upset to drive you away.”

You nibbled on the corner of your lip and considered his words. You’d known him long enough to see through his bullshit and this… this was the furthest thing from that. It was a vulnerable moment for him and you could tell not his proudest either.

“You’re not going to miss your call time tomorrow, right?” you asked. You hadn’t realized just how close you’d been, neck craning a bit to look up at him. He chuckled which instinctively made you smile.

“Yes ma’am,” he said. You rolled your eyes as you finally removed your hand from his—which had remained curled around yours almost the whole conversation—and approached the island. Oliver had fallen asleep while you two were conversing but his head perked up the moment he heard you open the food bag.

“Well, Mr. Howard, we should eat this before it gets even colder,” you said.

“Damn, still in the doghouse then, huh?” he asked, stepping up next to you, shoulder brushing against yours.

“For now,” you joked, looking up at him for a moment. “We’ll see how I feel after you make it to that call time.” You held up his burger and he chuckled, taking it from your grasp.

“Bright and early then,” he conceded. You smiled and took a nice, hearty bite out of your apology burger.

“Lookin’ awful hard at that,” Cooper said from the other side of the hot tub. “Somethin’ I need to worry ‘bout?”

You spared a glance away from the script atop your knees—you weren’t in the hot tub with him, instead perched on the wooden stairs that led down from it. Since filming had wrapped for his most recent movie, you weren’t due on set with him today and opted for a more casual outfit; some shorts that had migrated a bit further down from your knees when you sat, a strapless top that tucked into them, and your hair tied up in a scarf. Your free hand fiddled with the chain of your necklace as you tapped a bare foot against the stairs.

While the luxuries of the Howard household were open for you to utilize at any point, per Cooper’s explicit reminders as of late, it was too warm and you had business to conduct with him and this script.

“Aside from the fact that it’s pure Vault-Tec slop?” you asked, distaste evident in your tone. He let out a breath of laughter as he took a sip from the gin martini you’d prepared for him. Your own martini glass sat on the tray next to the cup of olives, untouched, as you sat bewildered by the script in your hands. Your voice turned almost sing-songy as you lifted the script up to read, “‘Strong enough to keep out the rads and the Reds’...” Your face scrunched into distaste. “Who wrote this? An intern?”

“Someone named Bolt Ass-skins or somethin’, I don’t remember,” he said and sipped more from his martini. You snorted a little in response.

“Well, it does exactly what it needs to, unfortunately,” you sighed and tapped your pen against the papers. “Peddling safety and exclusivity from a make-believe nuclear nightmare…” You stared down at the paper, teeth gently nibbling the inside of your cheek absently. “Because who should be saved but the rich and elite.”

There was a small moment of quiet after that, your mind taking you elsewhere, a place where Vault-Tec’s fear-mongering might be true and you and your family were left in the nuclear dust, lost to time and dispersed to the universe with every gust of wind that passed over your bones. Forgotten.

The water sloshed a bit as Cooper moved toward your side of the tub and you snapped back to the present. Your assistant mode kicked in and, though Cooper looked to be reaching for the olives, you got to them first.

“You’d have one too, you know,” he said casually. Your brow furrowed as you turned your eyes down to him, olive plopping softly in the glass he held out. “You & Ollie—right next to me and Janey… or with us, if you wanted.”

“That’s… That’s kind of you, Cooper, but I could never ask you to do that—”

“I know, but you don’t need to,” he said. The sun caught the green-brown of his eyes, the salt in his pepper hair glistening as he looked up at you. “Hell, I’ll even put some money down for your family if you want them there too.”

“As long as you put them on the other side of the vault,” you joked, which earned a laugh from him and made you chuckle.

“Consider it done,” he said, with a smirk that you rolled your eyes at. You didn’t doubt Cooper’s sincerity about that offer but it was so grandiose, so out of your ballpark of realism, that you couldn’t truly consider it. “What time is it?” he asked suddenly.

You rolled your wrist enough to see the time on your watch and said, “Just after one.”

“I should go shower real fast so I can get Janey from school,” he said and drank the rest of his martini, and the olive, in one motion. “Maybe later we’ll go grab some ice cream at that place y’all like. Forget about that Vault-Tec stuff for a little while.”

“Hard to forget when you’ve got that photoshoot coming up in a couple of days and they still haven’t given you the dress code,” you said.

“Suit and tie until otherwise notified,” he commented nonchalantly, proud of his rhyme. You watched as he stood, just long enough to see his exposed chest, and turned away when the top of his small cobalt swim shorts—practically a speedo—peaked over the top of the water. You reached behind you for his towel and offered it to him without looking. He made a noise, something like a chuckle.

“Come on, up with ya.” Cooper gave your exposed thigh a little tap, water trickling down your skin, signaling he was headed for the exit of the hot tub. You moved instantly, making your way down the small wooden staircase attached to the adjacent tub, and focused back on the script. He joined your stride back up to the house, still dripping wet and with the towel around his neck now, but you kept your eyes on the words in front of you.

“So, any edits then? Or is the slop good enough?”

“Even if I did, I don’t think Vault-Tec would give a damn about them,” you said. Cooper held the backdoor open for you, the cool air of the house a welcome reprieve from the hot tub’s steam and the sun’s rays. “I’ll give this another once over while you shower. Just for posterity.”

“You’re gon’ have that memorized before I do.”

“I usually do,” you said with a wide smile intended to ooze playful sarcasm. This time he rolled his eyes. “Now go.”

“Alright, alright,” he said, hands up as he walked toward the staircase, Roosevelt in tow. You resisted the temptation to peek up at him, eyes rereading the same line over and over until you heard both of them disappear fully upstairs. An exhale left you, a tinge of heat on your cheeks, and you found yourself slapping the papers onto the nearest surface to get yourself an ice-cold glass of water. It hadn’t been that hot outside, but you felt like you were slowly burning up on the inside… or at least your face did.

You had found a place on the couch to wait for Cooper and reread this script for the millionth time, two full glasses of ice water downed, when the doorbell rang. Cooper hadn’t told you about any guests paying a visit. You placed the script on the coffee table and padded toward the door. A quick peek through the peephole revealed a man in a suit, who looked a tad nervous and carried a medium-sized box in his hand branded with the Vault-Tec logo. You opened the door and put on your friendliest smile.

“Hello, how can I help you?” you asked.

“Oh, uh, hi, I’m… Is Cooper Howard home?” the man asked.

“I’m his assistant, how can I help you?” you repeated, your tone sickeningly sweet in the face of this man. He chuckled nervously.

“His assistant, right, right,” he said like the information had just dawned on him. “I’m sorry to, um, bother him here, at his home. I’m actually an assistant too—Miss Howard’s—and I was told to deliver this to him.” Miss Howard… Your eyebrows rose slightly at the mention of Barb having her own assistant now, but you staved off your curiosity and nodded along.

“Nice to meet you, Mister…?”

“MacLean. Hank MacLean,” he said with a big smile.

“Nice to meet you Hank,” you said, reaching your hand out to shake his. He obliged, despite fumbling with the package for a moment. “Can I ask what this package is for…?”

“It’s Mr. Howard’s suit for the upcoming photoshoot. Custom made for him,” he clarified. Hank offered you the box and you took it with the same smile you’d given him originally. “Between you and I, I’m a big fan of his, and I’d love to meet him at some point.”

You gave your business laugh and nodded your head before saying, “I’m sure you’ll get the chance. I’ll get this to Mr. Howard right away. Nice to meet you, Mr. MacLean.” You slowly closed the door, a bit of surprise on his face.

“Nice to meet you as well! I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other a lot in the future. You know, assistants and all.”

“Looking forward to it,” you said before you fully closed the door and promptly locked it. The smile disappeared from your lips. The Vault-Tec logo felt obnoxious, as was most of what they did, and the box felt like it had a bit of weight to it. Despite your immediate curiosity, you made your way upstairs and approached Cooper’s bedroom.

“Cooper?” you called into the space.

“Still in the shower!” he called back. “Everything alright?”

You moved further into the room and approached the bathroom door, which was cracked. The steam trickled out like a fog, dissipating into the cool air of the rest of the house. Roosevelt was asleep in his dog bed.

“Yeah, you got a package from Vault-Tec!”

“Vault-Tec? What’s in it?” he asked over the running water.

“Dunno, haven’t opened it yet. Barb’s new assistant delivered it though. He seems… nice.”

“New assistant?” Cooper laughed.

“Yeah, he was real keen on meeting you, Mr. Howard,” you said and he responded with an amused noise.

You moved into the room, looking for something sharp to open up this package, and settled on the pocketknife Cooper had sitting out on his dresser next to one of his signature white cowboy hats he’d kept from set. It opened with a click, and you slid it over the packing tape, right through the Vault-Tec logo, and opened the box up. Inside was a suit, but not a classic suit, more similar to a jumpsuit in his signature cobalt and trimmed with yellow. You were intrigued, but also, confused, as you closed the pocketknife and placed it on the sheets. The water in the bathroom cut off.

“Well, it’s a suit but not— OH!” You had turned to shout back to Cooper when your eyes found him emerging from the bathroom and approaching you, with only a towel around his waist. You’d glimpsed a bit of his leg as he walked, peeking from the material, all the way up to his hip. No undergarments in sight. You instantaneously spun around, back toward him, and fire blazed in your cheeks. Picking out ties was one thing, but this… This was new. “I’m so sorry, I can leave.”

“Ain’t much different than seeing me in that hot tub,” he said.

You clenched your teeth, throat bobbing as you contemplated how to best remove yourself from the situation. There was a small part of you, one you didn’t even realize existed, that wished you’d turn around. It yearned for it… Yearned. No. You stifled the feeling with embarrassment, stomping it out the best you could.

“I don’t want to be disrespectful,” you managed.

“Y’ain’t,” he said, so instantly, so certainly, that it made you hyper-aware of your rising heartbeat. You heard movement, both exhilarating and nerve-wracking for a reason you couldn’t place. The hair you’d released from your scarf earlier framed your face, nurturing the heat in your cheeks.

You practically jumped when you heard Cooper’s voice right next to your ear.

“If you’re so concerned about it, why don’t you hold onto this for me, sweetheart,” he whispered, voice low and breath tickling your ear. The heat from the shower radiated from his bare chest and settled gently against your back, his body inches from yours, you’d realized. Your breath hitched.

Before you could indulge in any further self-examination, you felt a pressure on top of your head, and through your eyelashes, you could make out the brim of Cooper’s cowboy hat. He’d leaned it far enough forward that it blocked anything that wasn’t directly below you.

“There. Good now, darlin’?” he said in the same tone as before. Your body felt as though it wanted to melt, but whether you wanted to melt into Cooper or the floor was the concern you were met with.

“Yes, sir,” you said, professionalism tainted by the breathiness of your response. A sound of acknowledgment left him, some sort of ‘mm’, and your shoulders tensed even more. The sun’s beams had nothing on the heat you felt trickling down your throat and pooling all in your gut.

“At least it’s in my colors,” he said, neutral, from behind you. You heard the shuffling of material like he’d pulled the suit out of the box and promptly dropped it back down without much thought. Then you heard his footsteps move away from you. “Ice cream tonight, right?” he asked.

You turned, finally, and lifted the brim enough to see him walking away, water trailing down his broad shoulders and back.

“Right,” you said.

When he reached the bathroom door he turned his face enough to see you watching him. A smirk crept onto his lips.

“Looks good on you,” he said, words genuine but laced with a bit of smugness like he’d proved something to himself. Or maybe to you. Without much else, he slipped into the bathroom and left you there with that pool of lava in your stomach. Even a gallon of ice cream wouldn’t be able to fix that.

“So, has he said anything about the script? Any notes?” Bud Askins asked you, voice full of that corporate confidence that only a pressed suit and a 401k could exude. Your arms were crossed and your eyes remained on Cooper who stood before the camera. He’d just found his stride with a charming thumbs up that had everyone exhilarated like he’d invented the damn gesture in the first place. Even Barb, who stood a few feet from you, on the opposite side of the camera, was sporting a smile. One that she probably thought no one would see except Cooper; he hadn’t spared a single glance at her. If he wasn’t looking at the camera… he was looking at you.

You caught the corner of your bottom lip with your canine to resist returning his smile.

Bud addressed you again.

“Hm?” You tore your eyes from Cooper to look up at Bud who was all smiles and borderline insufferable puppy dog eyes. His endearing allure was stifled by the knowledge that he was some sort of head honcho at Vault-Tec. “Oh, no notes,” you whispered back with a smile. He nodded back as the photographer shouted something out to Cooper that sounded encouraging.

You naturally looked at the photographer and caught Barb looking over at you. The two of you locked eyes for what felt longer than it was before she turned away from you, expression slipping to something you couldn’t recognize. A frown tugged at your lips that you didn’t hide fast enough, Cooper’s eyes on you again while he adjusted to a new pose. So quickly you might not have caught it if you didn’t know him as well as you did.

The photos carried on for another ten or so minutes, Bud Askins desperately trying to converse with you about Cooper and his opinions, to which you answered most with ‘I’m not sure’, despite knowing the answers to everything. Once the photographer called a wrap on the shoot, Cooper exhaled and started to head toward you. He shook a few hands along the way, flashing that Hollywood smile at everyone.

“Man–” he started, reaching out to grab your arm. Barb intercepted it, hand gripping his upper arm while simultaneously stepping a bit between the two of you. It was so swift that you had no time to react.

“Cooper, we’ve got some business to discuss before you go,” Barb said. The tone of her voice sounded just as insincere as Bud’s. All corporate with a tinge of bite that was likely reserved specifically for you. You smiled at Cooper.

“I’ve got scripts to review, I’ll just meet you back at your trailer,” you said. Cooper looked between the two of you but understood, giving a small nod. “Barb,” you said respectfully. She said your name but it held nothing.

Cooper gazed back at you as she led him away, gaze apologetic. While you absolutely could have been part of that conversation as his assistant, there was a sort of guilt eating at you for the other day with the cowboy hat. Guilt that you were almost sure Barb could sniff out and exploit if she wanted to. Despite being fully capable of standing up for yourself, the last thing you wanted to do was cause more problems for Cooper and Janey.

So you walked back to his trailer and settled yourself on the couch you’d found him passed out on weeks ago. A deep exhale left your body, the heaviness of being around Vault-Tec wasn’t the same as being on a movie set. The egos could rival each other of course but you’d take arguing with a director over one of those suits any day.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you finally heard the trailer door swing open. The force of it immediately drew your now widened eyes and you caught Cooper’s crimson-kissed cheeks and scowl as he slammed behind him. He walked past you with a muttered ‘sorry’ and to the room at the back he used to get dressed. He didn’t close that door. You peered to the front door, half expecting Barb to charge in behind him, but nothing.

“Cooper?” you tried loud enough for him to hear. Silence, only the faint sound of him fussing with the suit. Your brows furrowed, concern building as you placed the scripts to the side and moved toward the room he’d disappeared into. From the short hallway you could see Cooper with his back towards you, hands pressed against the vanity and head hung low. “Coop,” you said again, softer. He took in a steadying breath.

“Help me get outta this thing, would’ya?” he replied loud enough for you to hear. “It’s hot as shit.”

“Sure thing.”

Cooper turned to face you, the tinge of red you’d seen color his face was now a light pink. He’d already brought his zipper down to his waist, a thin white undershirt peeking from beneath. Curiosity danced across your mind as he reached out one of his arms to you, your fingers hooking into his sleeve securely. He tugged and wiggled to free himself.

“What’s bothering you, Coop?” you asked. You looked up at him but he didn’t look at you.

“Nothin’,” he attempted. You answered with a deadpan stare.

“Try again.”

He ran his tongue over his teeth while he contemplated. It could’ve been a handful of things with him, but there was only one person here who could get under his skin like this. You just weren’t going to say it.

He hummed an irritated noise, giving up on freeing himself from the suit, and ran his free hand through his hair. His eyes finally settled on your face.

“You got plans tonight?” he asked suddenly.

“Why?”

“Just–” He looked like he’d bitten back some frustration that was threatening to spill over onto you. “Do you want to get outta town with me? Just for a little while?”

The way he looked at you made your heart sink. Cooper and Janey meant the world to you and you hated to see him so rattled—it made you want to do anything in your power to resolve or ease it.

“I don’t need my assistant, I just…” Cooper’s free hand reached up and, for a moment, you thought he’d touch your face. You found yourself unopposed to the idea. Instead, though, you caught his hesitation, another fleeting moment, just before he redirected himself to your upper arm. It was a gentle touch, but one that felt like it meant more than either of you would admit. Grounding. “I just want your company.”

You gave him a slow nod.

“Where’d you want to go?” you asked with a gentle smile that he tried to match.

Not as an assistant, but as a friend… You could do that.

The sun was setting by the time you’d left the city, the Hollywood sign had long since faded into the distance behind you both. You’d been in Cooper’s Kaiser Darrin before, always enamored by the convertible with its sleek pastel yellow design and the quiet cruise it offered wherever it arrived. Typically, the subtle hum of the radio or idle chatter kept any empty air from feeling awkward or strange, but tonight this two-seater never felt more suffocating.

You couldn’t tell where the nerves were coming from. You had no idea where he was taking you, but you trusted him so it couldn’t be coming from that. Years, you’d spent years as Cooper’s assistant and accompanied him to plenty of places both professional and casual, even with Janey. There was no reason you should’ve felt as tense as you did during the drive.

Whether Cooper noticed or not, you had no idea. Since leaving his house—after dropping off Oliver to keep Roosevelt company and pester the dog sitter for fries—he’d been quiet, though his interactions were brief but not mean. Whatever happened at the photoshoot had him tangled up in his mind.

The radio remained off for at least the first hour, sounds of the city filling your ears, including the loud comments people considered whispers as they ogled the movie star temporarily halted by the stop light. You did your best to avoid their stares, big sunglasses and a headscarf were barely a comfort. People who cared about that stuff knew you were his assistant but all it took was one rumor to sweep through and potentially ruin everything. Cooper remained unbothered about all of that too.

When he finally turned on the radio, the sunset was casting all of its hues of tangerine, gold, and violets over the highway. The tinkle of the opening piano keys to ‘Don’t Fence Me In’ played loud enough for you to recognize and suddenly the sunset was no longer your focus, it was Cooper’s voice.

You’d heard him sing a tune before, especially at home dancing with Janey, or even Barb, but you never gave it much thought. Never really listened. He was no Sinatra, but he didn’t need to be. He sang for himself, effort elevating with every word, voice piercing through the wind to reach you. Despite not sparing a glance at you and his casual demeanor—one arm propped on the car door while the other handled the wheel—you could sense an underlying context. Something deeply personal seeping through. You wouldn’t pry, not right now anyway, so instead… you sang too.

Cooper finally spared a glance at you then and you did the same. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips but he hid it with his free hand, both of you returning your attention to the road ahead of you.

“Oh, give me land, lots of land under starry skies… Don't fence me in,” you both sang.

The tension you’d felt began to ease, continuing your duet and releasing the pressure that’d built up in your shoulders. You sang for the wind too, let it dance on its wisps to twist and mingle with Cooper’s, released into the evening air.

It took another hour or so before you left the highway and the hills started to have tall trees, until eventually, the tree-lined road led to an imposing gate for a community you couldn’t quite make-out. Your curiosity peaked further as Cooper slowed the car and approached a booth with a security guard already leaning out to greet him.

“Coop!” the guard greeted, a big smile on his face.

“Hey, Henderson,” he answered. The two exchanged a handshake before the guard’s attention turned to you. Immediately you felt a wave of unease wash over you, that paranoia you’d felt earlier in the city with the fans on the street.

“Hello,” you greeted. To your surprise, the guard greeted you by your last name and a friendly nod.

“What brings you both out here?” Henderson asked. There seemed to be a genuine curiosity about him, nothing nefarious, but your worry was gnawing at your psyche again.

“Needed some quiet,” Cooper said. “City’s too loud.”

“Tch, I think that every morning when I have to drive home,” Henderson chuckled. He reached back into the booth to write something down on a clipboard before he pressed a button that began opening the gate.

“Jim still outta town filmin’ that movie?” Cooper asked.

“Sure is,” he responded. “But you know you and yours are always welcome here. Glenda will clean up in the morning like usual.”

“Thanks, Henderson,” Cooper said and, without you even realizing, had pulled a hundred dollar bill out to hand to the man, which he promptly took. “Say hi to the wife and kids for me.”

“Will do,” he said with a salute, bill still between his fingers. “Enjoy your time away from the big city.”

Cooper waved casually and moved the vehicle forward into the darkness, headlights illuminating the paved road and trees around it. Some roads led to obvious houses in the distance, while others remained out of sight, and it only took a couple of minutes before a charming cottage came into view. While it was undoubtedly expensive, it wasn’t too over the top, surprisingly quaint. Two stories, modest windows, rich brown wooden sidings with dark trimmings, and lovely greenery partially illuminated by the front porch light.

The car came to a slow stop just below the porch.

“Where are we?” you finally asked as Cooper turned off the engine.

“Somewhere quiet,” he repeated, voice quieter than you’d anticipated. You didn’t push, instead turning your attention to your seatbelt as he got out of the car. Before you could reach for your door handle Cooper was already sliding your door open and offering his hand to you. “C’mon.” You nodded and placed your hand in his, legs aching from the long car ride when you finally stood. He didn’t hold on for very long, the feeling gone as quickly as it started, so you followed him to the front door.

Cooper caught your apprehensiveness, probably in your body language alone, so while fiddling with a set of keys, he said, “No one’s home. An old actor friend’a mine barely uses it, stays empty when it’s not summer, so he lets me stop by whenever I want.”

“Jim…” You tried to recall the name and the face but there were no bells ringing up in the tower of your mind. Cooper chuckled and finally found the key he’d been searching for, inserting it into the keyhole, and opening the door.

“You know most of the people I work with, but not all of ‘em,” he said. Your unamused expression dissolved rather quickly into a smile as he stepped inside of the home to flick on some lights. You followed behind him, the smell of cleaner settling into your nostrils—Glenda’s doing if you had to guess—and the shine of picture frames, tables, and well-kept knick-knacks, pulling your eye every which way.

It wasn’t until you reached one of the back rooms that you noticed the modest windows at the front were not the same as the back of the home where almost every wall had one. This room in particular had a beautiful stone fireplace with plenty of seating surrounding it and the view from the window was limited to the well-lit backyard, nothing but darkness beyond the hill.

You heard the door close behind you and turned in time to see Cooper approaching. He set a duffel bag on the floor by the fireplace, one you didn’t realize he’d even packed and stood with his hands in the pockets of his grey dress pants. He ran a hand over the front of his sweater, almost like he was nervous.

“Not sure what’s here by way of food, should’a probably thought of that before leaving, but Glenda usually likes to keep the basics anyhow,” he said. “And I do make a mean PB n’ J. Rave reviews.”

You chuckled.

“Janey’s reviews are critical,” you said. “I wouldn’t mind trying that.”

“Consider it done,” he said and turned to head toward where you assumed the kitchen was. He added, “Make yourself comfortable.”

You heard the sound of Cooper exploring cabinets in the kitchen and did some light exploration of the rooms around you. It was a nice home, but not egregious, you could understand why this would be a nice getaway space. All the fixings for comfort but nothing that reminded you of being back in the city. No glitz or glam that took you out of where you were, just happy family portraits, mementos, and a warmth only good memories could fill a room with.

It wasn’t long before you found your way outside again, the backyard as well kept as the rest of the home. There were chairs to sit on and a small fire pit for those lucky nights that actually carried a chill, where you could roast marshmallows and share intimate secrets and laughs with friends. It’d been a while since you’d experienced that, college a few years back if you had to guess, and while they were fun, you didn’t yearn for your college days like so many others. You liked your life right now, even if it felt a little complicated at times.

“Order up,” Cooper’s voice said from behind you. You turned to see him set a plate down on one of the tables accompanied by a glass of water. “If you hate it, don’t say anything.” A chuckle left you as you approached the table, fingers wrapping around the sandwich and eyes locked on Cooper’s face. He was waiting. So you took your time overly examining it, twisting and turning it, and adding little ‘hmm’s for effect. He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. Just as he was about to say something you finally took a bite… It was good, of course it was. The perfect ratio of ingredients.

“Not bad,” you teased.

“Not bad?”

“I’m a harsher critic than Janey.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” he joked.

You huffed a laugh again as he turned back inside, returning a moment later with his own sandwich. You turned to look out at what you’d gathered was a lake, a dock at the bottom of the incline this home was on, a singular lamp post at the end of it. On either side of you there were darkened homes and unlit docks, probably also abandoned outside of the summer, and the rest was the dark lake. It made you feel a bit more at ease, the chance of paparazzi or nosey neighbors dropping drastically, so you let yourself breathe a bit more and wiggled the tension that had built up again in your shoulders. The two of you ate your sandwiches in silence for a few moments, enjoying the light breeze coming off the water and the stillness of it all.

“A shame he took the boat,” Cooper said as he took a large bite.

“I don’t think I’d want to be out there at night anyhow,” you said.

“No?”

You shook your head.

“I’ve never been in or on a lake, they make me uneasy,” you admitted. “I’d take the beach instead any day.”

“How local of you,” he teased, finishing up his last bite.

“Hey,” you said. You tossed the last bit in your mouth and turned to him to point your index finger at him. “I don’t appreciate all the jabs you’re taking at me tonight, sir.” Cooper turned to you and matched your energy. Instead of addressing your comment though, his eyes dropped to your lips and he leaned down a little bit. The unfamiliarity of the motion made you reflexively lean away a bit but he remained.

“You got something—” He reached up his hand before you could try to rectify whatever situation he was indicating and you felt his thumb press against your lip. You stopped, eyes on his face, but he was focused on your mouth. Your heartbeat increased at the simple motion, soft but just enough pressure for you to feel, and when he swiped it along your lip, it felt like minutes had passed. Cooper held up his thumb for you to see the culprit. “Jelly,” he said.

You touched your face self-consciously and half expected him to wipe it on his sweater, so the surprise in your expression was genuine when you watched him put that same thumb up to his mouth. His tongue dragged along it, slow, like a show, watching you. A smirk settled onto his lips when he finished.

“Can’t waste Glenda’s supply,” he said. You had nothing. Cooper looked like he was resisting the urge to laugh as he started down the incline toward the path. He offered his hand to you. “C’mon, I wanna show you somethin’.”

It took you a second to snap back to this moment, mind wandering to incredibly inappropriate places where his tongue was running along—

“Sure. Sure,” you said, placing your hand in his.

Cooper carefully led you to the stairs that brought you to the bottom of the incline as opposed to the slick grass you’d almost slipped on. The dock itself was sturdy, but you were still cautious with every step you made, especially after Cooper turned the light at the end of the dock off. He didn’t let go of your hand the entire time, grip reassuring and helpful, and when you reached the end, he released you—to your disappointment—and pointed up.

“This is it,” he whispered.

You turned your eyes up to the sky and felt the breath leave you for a moment. It was a clear night, the moon beautiful and waning within the blanket of sapphire and surrounded by twinkling stars. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen the sky as clear as this, been able to take in the majesty of it all without the flood of Hollywood lights. It calmed you, made you feel as though you were weightless, so much so that you could feel a well of emotions building within you.

Silence overtook you both again for a while…

Cooper sighed.

“It was Barb,” he managed. Your brow furrowed in confusion. He pulled a cigarette carton and lighter from his pocket, slid a singular one out, and put the pack away again. “She…” He sighed again, finding it difficult to formulate the thought he wanted to say. “She’s got me on this leash with Vault-Tec. She knows it’s all I got going for me right now. If I lose this… There’s a chance she’ll try to take Janey from me completely.” Cooper lit the cigarette and took a long drag before pocketing the lighter too. You turned to him slightly.

“I’m so sorry, Coop,” you said with deep sincerity.

Cooper huffed a laugh, one that held no amusement or warmth, just irritation. He didn’t look at you.

“On top’a that, she keeps throwing you back in my face,” he said. “Like I’m not allowed to move on or be happy in any way with anyone. But ‘specially not you.” His voice had dipped into a whisper but you heard every single word.

Your confusion deepened. What was he saying? You knew Barb was strange when it came to you, had been since the divorce was finalized, but you never thought she would weaponize you against him. Not like this at least. You, of all people… It made you feel awful.

“I shoulda known she’d stoop this low eventually. I knew she was capable of it. If it wasn’t you, it’d be someone else, you’re just the closest to me and…” Cooper spared a look at you then, but it was brief like he couldn’t take more than a few seconds, such a contrast to earlier.

“But we’re not…” you tried, but couldn’t even find the words to finish. “You don’t want me like that.” It was all just Cooper Howard being a charming movie star… right?

“Well that’s just it, ain’t it, sweetheart?” he asked, blowing smoke into the night air. You watched Cooper intently. He sighed, ash tumbling from the cigarette twitching in his fingers. “I dunno what you’ve done, or how, but I can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you. Not for one damn second.” He finally looked you in the eye then. The moonlight did no justice for that beautiful green-brown you knew all too well. Your heart hammered against the cage of your chest as you resisted the urge to fold under the weight of his gaze.

“Coop,” you whispered. There was no string of thought you could find for this moment. You couldn’t say there weren’t signs—ones you may have chosen to blatantly ignore. Truthfully, there was a part of you that wondered if you were just a placeholder until some starlet strolled up to him one day and took him off the market again. A familiar distraction. That platonic piece of his life that would never be anything more than a casual flirt… But you knew each other. He’d never shown interest before these last couple of weeks. When he was with Barb, he had eyes for no one else, especially not you.

And yet.

Here he was now showing you the heart on his sleeve, beneath the stars, in a place where he felt safe enough to do so. For you and only you.

The way he said your name was unlike anything you’d heard from him before. So soft it could have been a breath. It made your heart flutter. He stamped out the last of his cigarette and turned to fully face you. You looked up at him. Cooper took a step forward. There was barely an inch between you.

A cool breeze passed over the bare part of your legs, sending a shiver through you. Cooper reached up then and gently placed his warm palm against your cheek. Even in the moonlight, you could tell he was searching your face for any sign of rejection, ready to pull away at a moment’s notice.

He inched closer to you with every second that passed. One of your hands found his chest, halting him for a moment, but the other glided up his arm until your fingers wrapped around the hand he’d placed on your cheek. There was a brief moment you considered pulling away, to not solidify this potential problem in Cooper’s life, to add fuel to the fire that Barb was already igniting.

“I thought you just wanted a friend,” you said quietly. The tension in the air was palpable. You could practically swim in it.

Cooper took a long moment, a deep inhale through his nostrils.

“Who the fuck was I kiddin’.”

His lips collided with yours, a cocktail of desire and residual nicotine—a concoction so intoxicating that you melted into him instantly. Your hatred of cigarettes was overpowered by the way Cooper’s lips moved against yours. Everything you’d known before this moment felt like a world away, magnetism finally colliding with one another after narrowly avoiding each other’s pull for weeks now.

Cooper’s hands shifted, gliding over your ribs until they settled on the back of your shirt, and stopped.

“This alright?” he asked and pulled away enough to look down into your eyes. “Can I touch you like this?” He was respectful, but you could tell he wanted more. The way he flexed his fingers and tugged on the fabric and hovered just above the waistline of your skirt drove you mad. Feelings you hadn’t acknowledged were cascading and reverberating throughout your body—electric.

No longer surprised, you found yourself saying, “You can touch me however you like.” Cooper hummed at that and pulled you as close to him as he possibly could.

“Those’re some dangerous words…” he breathed, a small kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“I work with a cowboy for a living, I think I’ll be fine,” you replied, both smirking against each other's lips. Cooper’s hands dipped down to your ass, cupping it tightly through your skirt, a gasp-moan escaping you only for him to swallow it. He returned it, a sound deep in his vocal cords, and it spurred him on. You stumbled a little and immediately grabbed his upper arms to steady yourself, a burst of giggles tumbling from your lips.

“Y’alright?” Cooper asked amusement in his voice.

“Never made out on a dock before,” you admitted.

“Mmm,” he breathed, nose against your cheek. He pressed a kiss there as he ran his hands up your arms and intertwined your fingers. “Sit for me.” Your eyebrows furrowed, unsure about the request and feeling a tad defiant at it outside of your previous professional dynamic. Even then he didn’t ‘order’ you around. He knew better, just like now, tacking on a, “Please.”

So you slowly lowered yourself—with Cooper’s aid—onto the well-preserved wood, the slight sway of it less noticeable the moment you sat down fully. Cooper brought himself down next to you, hand instantly on the back of your neck and fingers tangled in the bottom of your hair. He pulled you to him with ease and you grabbed his sweater to ground yourself. It felt like you’d float away if you didn’t.

You weren’t sure where this was going if this was meant to lead to anything, but you could still feel those nerves bundled in the pit of your stomach. Were you actually comfortable or was this just the rush of being in Cooper’s orbit? That magnetism that could shift an entire room’s attention to him effortlessly?

Cooper pulled at your hip lightly and, after you managed to hike up your skirt, you swung your leg over his lap to straddle him. This time it was his breath that hitched, lips detached and breath heavy. You braced yourself on his shoulders and he immediately found your hips, fingers digging into the skirt like he’d rip it off you if he could.

“Oh, Cooper,” you whispered shakily. Nothing made sense, the world was spinning, and it felt like a tether was pulled taut between your chests.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asked. It was a tad raspy, a calculated question that took concentration—like his mind was focused on trying not to ravage you completely.

You glided your hand over his hair, moonlight catching on his greys and twinkling like the stars above.

“I…” you hesitated. “I’m not… Should we do this? I don’t… I don’t want to complicate things more for you.”

“You’re the least complicated thing in my life right now,” he said so definitively that it shut you up entirely. “We can slow down if you want…” Cooper took your hands in his and pressed his lips to them. “Honest, I just wanted to kiss you. Didn’t have much of a plan after that,” he said with a laugh. You could feel him under you, dress pants doing nothing to hide it, but you took a steadying breath.

“Is this—” You took a breath. “Is this just a distraction for you, Coop?”

Cooper said your name, tone laced with a tinge of sadness, and instead of pulling you closer, he grabbed your thigh to help you slide off his lap. You were a bit confused but you obliged. Did you ruin it? Whatever this was? The thought bounced around the walls of your mind as you searched his expression for any sort of negative emotion… There was none. It was soft and understanding with something lying underneath it all.

“I’m not interested in distractions,” he said. “I thought Barb was it for me… I thought I was done after the divorce. But you—” Cooper sucked air through his teeth. “I don’t know how to explain it. You ain’t some sort’a toy.”

“But I’m your assistant… It’s so… Grey.”

“You want me to fire you?” he asked lightheartedly.

“Cooper,” you sighed. You pushed his shoulder with the hand you weren’t leaning on for balance and he reached up in time to grab your hand before you pulled away, practically enveloping it in his.

“Point I’m tryin’ to make is, if you want me to, we can stop right now. Cold turkey. No skin off my nose,” he said. As well as you knew him, you were pretty sure that wasn’t true. If he felt like you felt to any degree, it would devastate him. “But…” The grip he had on your hand tightened as he scooted closer to you, inches from your face again. “If you want to… figure this out like I do… I’ll do anything to prove I mean what I’m sayin’. Every single day you want me to, until finally you get sick of me.”

You chuckled and ran your thumb across his skin, considering his words. A one-night stand would have been hurtful in the long run but at least it was cut and dry. Feelings didn’t usually come into play or at the very least didn’t matter. This was something you were unprepared for. The way things evolved so naturally, so quickly, was terrifying. One moment your boss is just your boss, nothing more, and the next you felt yourself falling into the deep end.

“I think…” You took in a steadying breath, closing your eyes like it’d help. What might this be? Would it be something you’d regret? You weren’t sure but… “I think I might like that.”

When you opened your eyes again, Cooper’s relieved expression was the first thing you saw and you couldn’t help but smile. He kissed you again, but this time it was slow like nothing in the world mattered but your lips against his. A steady rhythm, like the light waves of the lake against the shore, and a passion you’d never known. You weren’t sure what any of it meant, but at least for now, this was a secret between you, Cooper, and the stars.

The night spent at the lake house was soft, sweet, hands kept in respectful places even when sharing a bed. It was a side you knew Cooper had, but one that was strange for you to experience. You spent the time before bed shyly shuffling around each other, Cooper offering you an extra sweater and some too-big sleep pants that didn’t match. You hadn’t realized you’d be staying overnight somewhere, but by the time you both returned to the house, lost in the quiet and comfort of each other’s embrace, it was well past midnight.

So you both laid there, quiet for the most part, facing one another, and just listening to the sound of your breaths as sleep tugged at your eyelids. Your hand had settled on Cooper's cheek and his hand found purchase on your hip.

“What’re you thinking about?” he asked you, eyes closed and voice riddled with sleep.

“You,” you managed. Sleep also tugged at you. “This.” You gently rubbed your fingertips on his cheek and he hummed a ‘mmmm’ in response.

“We can take it as slow as ya like,” he said, accent thicker. It made you smile a little, that rugged cowboy slipping through the Hollywood facade, charming and down to Earth. “I ain’t forcin’ you to do anythin’ you don’t want.”

You leaned forward and pressed a soft, sleepy kiss to his lips.

And slow it went.

The next morning was spent driving back, Cooper’s hand on your leg the entire cruise down the highway. It was nice, simple, and you placed yours over it, liking how it felt—such a simple gesture. It only lasted until you returned to the city, both of you instinctively pulling apart. No one needed to know. Not yet. This was yours to cultivate as you both pleased.

Any business you conducted, like being on set, was professional, as always. Barely a glance out of place and strictly kept what needed to be accomplished—business as usual.

When Janey was around, nothing, the same as before. It made you feel a bit strange, wary of potentially hurting her and making her home life even more complicated. You struggled with that for a bit and you’d probably struggle with it for a long time regardless of the outcome of whatever this was.

You avoided Barb as much as possible. Cooper did everything he could to drop Janey off himself or have Barb, or her assistant, or babysitter, come collect her for her shared time with her Mom. If you had to, you did so and kept any interactions brief to none at all.

But when you finally had time alone, away from all the eyes, just you and Cooper, it was extraordinary. Stolen pecks in the trailer before a scene, soft touches cooking dinner together, long, drawn-out kisses after lifting you onto his work desk, conversation by the pool with fingers intertwined and splashes of water. No matter your previous experience romantically, this was on a completely different level. Despite that nagging part of your mind that wouldn’t quiet about ‘starlets’ and ‘secrecy’ and ‘getting tired of you’, you persisted.

Cooper was nothing if not reassuring. His sass and snark didn’t let up, but he tried his best to never be mean, even before all this, and doubly so now. An occasional present or two like flowers or something small because he knew how you loathed large gestures. Not once did he pressure you to have sex with him, though the hints were there. A slide of his fingertips just under the hem of your skirt nibbles at the top of your breasts after popping the top few buttons of your blouse, or the way he pressed up against you from behind, an innocent hug now charged as he nibbled your ear and the natural way you arched into him. But never pressure. That decision was on you, and you weren’t sure when you’d be ready for that to change.

You wanted Cooper. There was no doubt about that. It was more so Barb that kept you at bay. No matter how you two spun this story, it would never be good enough for anyone, but especially not her.

It was always going to be the ‘classic’ tale of infidelity with the woman that he spent the most time with, no matter how recent of a development those feelings were. The added pressure of her potentially wanting to take Janey away also weighed on you, and despite how clearly stressed he was because of Barb—especially with his final commercial for Vault-Tec due for filming the following week—you still relished in the quiet, gentle moments on the couch in your embrace, fireplace crackling and dogs snoring at your feet.

You wanted Cooper Howard, but you had a sinking feeling it wouldn’t come without a cost, and you weren’t sure how steep it would truly be.

“CUT! RESET!” called the director from his comfortable chair. A bell rang twice and you watched from the refreshments table as everyone on the crew sprung forward to reset the stage & fix up the actors.

You still couldn’t shake the feeling of being in one of these vaults, a big number four on the door behind Cooper where his first scene was set. It felt… unreal. A big metal fortress underground meant for a nuclear fallout felt so outlandish that if you hadn’t been here yourself, you’d have thought it was just a set built up on a soundstage. An uneasiness tugged at you when they gave you a tour of the living spaces, watching the camera crew set up in one of the rooms and a family—whose two adults were scientists—sat in makeup chairs until it was time for their scene.

Cooper was your only grounding force. During the tour he’d gently touch your back for a brief moment, pretending to just pass by you or urge you in front of him. He only lingered a little longer once when he heard you take in a shaky breath while Bud Askins and company rambled about how amazing this place was. It didn’t help that Barb was here as well to oversee the shoot. She barely acknowledged you and focused entirely on Cooper like you were a set dressing. You tried not to think about her too much though or else your shaky breaths might turn into a full on breakdown.

It was just a shoot in a location you weren’t familiar with. Everything was safe. Everything would be fine.

So when the director called for a reset, you quickly approached Cooper with a cup of black coffee for him to grab as people fussed with his hair and suit. A grateful expression crossed his face as he took a sip.

“Thank you so much,” he said, Hollywood charm still turned up to the max. While you were used to how he was on set, you couldn’t help realizing now just how much of a mask he wore for his work. Not that he wasn’t always authentically himself, but he did carry himself in a way that you didn’t see when you were alone.

“Need anything else before the next take?” you asked.

“Not anythin’ I can have right now,” he responded with a tinge of flirtation in his tone. You tensed a little, the women who were fussing over him didn’t even bat an eyelash at the comment. It was just you. He knew you were a little anxious before and was likely just trying to lighten the mood, but with him looking so dashing in his gray suit and his ex-wife was standing just at the edge of the room, eyes flicking over while she conversed with her colleagues, it was difficult to relax.

Cooper finished his coffee—the women dabbing his face and reapplying touch-ups—and you took it from him. Your fingers grazed his as you did so, a small gesture to let him know you were still there with him despite the circumstances.

“I’ll make sure to set up a reservation for you at your favorite restaurant,” you managed with a smile that he returned instantly.

“You know me so well.”

“It’s my job to,” you responded, gazing up through your eyelashes before you turned around fully to leave the shot. For the briefest of moments when you turned, you thought you caught his gaze moving downwards to your ass, but he’d returned to a recording-ready stance the moment you began to walk away.

“Alright, next take!” the director called. Everyone scattered out of the way of the cameras. “Quiet on set!”

You moved just out of frame, Cooper’s empty coffee cup in your hand, and watched him work his magic. The lights went out and once the cameras were rolling again, a singular spotlight lit on Cooper who had a fresh cigarette in his hands.

“Oh. Hello there. Yup, it’s me, Cooper Howard, star of stage and screen.”

Recording continued and, while the vault still unnerved you, you did your best to focus on Cooper. You watched between each take and tended to anything Cooper might have needed while keeping your space. The takes flew by despite how many there were and by the time you reached ‘Sycamore Street’, specifically room number 429, which was printed on a pristine mailbox, you could tell Cooper was starting to feel a bit drained by it all. So when they called for a cut, family of scientists at the table next to Cooper, you approached him with some water and a smile.

“Almost outta here, tiger,” you said to him as he took the cup of water and chugged it. He breathed out a sigh and handed it back to you.

“Kinda wish it was whiskey.”

“I’m sure they’ve got some around here somewhere if you really want,” you said.

“You’re the best,” he returned, a charming smirk on his lips. You couldn’t help but feel yours brighten at the sight and as you were about to turn and walk away from him, a voice chimed in that made your blood run cold.

“Are you done being distracted by your plaything? I’d like to get everyone out of here on time,” said Barb from the doorway, arms crossed. Silence bellowed into the room the likes you’d never experienced. Not even a breath. You felt as though someone had punched you in the chest as a deep-seated mortification rippled through your entire being.

“What was that?” Cooper asked. While his voice was a whisper, you could hear the lethality dripping from every syllable. Even his calm, cool, and collected movie star mask slipped a bit, brow furrowed and jaw locked.

“Cooper,” you warned, also in a whisper. “It’s fine, I’ll just—”

“No.” The firmness of his voice took you aback, but it wasn’t directed at you, he was locked on Barb. “Say it again.”

This man was going to burn down everything in this very moment with a camera crew and innocent bystanders to witness it. Barb adjusted her stance to match his challenging energy. One look around the room and you felt like you wanted to simply disintegrate.

“I said—” Barb tried.

“Enough!” you declared firmly. Once again you were in the middle of them and their drama, their loathing, everything. It didn’t matter though. You stepped in front of Cooper fully, not even looking at him but at Barb with a forced smile on your lips and said, “I’ll go. No problem. I think my work is done for the day anyhow.”

Cooper said your name but you held up a hand. This was awful enough as it was, you didn’t want to give Barb any more fuel and destroy what he had going for himself today. You took a step forward and felt the graze of Cooper’s hand as he reached out for your wrist, which you promptly pulled away. Your hands were shaking at all the eyes on you but they parted as you approached the door Barb was posted by. She watched you approach and, for a moment, you considered just walking by without a word… but you heard her huff an amused sound, you decided not this time. You stopped right next to her in the doorframe, stood as tall as you could, and stared straight into her eyes.

“Barb, I want you to know that I have always had a lot of respect for you,” you started softly. “I don’t know what happened between you and Cooper, and quite frankly, at this point, I don’t care.” Barb smirked a little, like she was about to say something. “It’s your business. What I do care about is you dragging me into it and trying to make my life hell when all I wanted to do was help.” You took a step forward. “I’m not the source of your problems, Barbara. You are. So keep my goddamn name out of your mouth.”

Your heart pounded in your ears. Barb’s face was professionally cold but you knew there was anger simmering beneath her exterior. You’d embarrassed her, just as she embarrassed you, in front of all of her colleagues whose opinions she seemed to hold above everyone else’s if she thought this stunt would be cute. Jaw clenched, you turned away from her and made your way through the crowd of her coworkers. You didn’t know if Cooper was going to be upset at you, if you’d just blown up his life, or if you even had a job, all you knew was that you needed to get away from whatever the hell was back there.

So you explored further into the vault with no goal aside from getting away.

COOPER

To say Cooper was upset would be an understatement. Even with years of practice, he found it more difficult than anything to put himself back into the scene when everyone finally unfroze from their goddamn shock. He’d stared down Barb, who didn’t do the same, and instead exited the room once you’d left. If you hadn’t stopped him, he would have probably destroyed any sort of tenuous work agreement that was left between him and Barb… but he had a contract to finish.

So he did.

He shoved down all of his radiating anger and put on that showbiz smile everyone knew him for. The crew eased almost immediately once he’d done so and said, “Shall we?”

The rest of the shoot went by without a hitch and once his scenes were wrapped, he gave out handshakes and compliments until he’d finally made it out of the room. In the hallways were all of the men who’d been watching, eyes cautiously avoiding him after the fiasco with Barb, who was chatting with someone at the other end of the hall. Cooper made a b-line for her but stopped just short by—

“Mr. Howard, great work today,” the man said and reached out his hand.

“Oh, thanks. Thanks, man,” Cooper responded.

“Bud Askins. I oversee our Southern California operations—”

“Hey, sorry, could you just hold on for one second?” Cooper asked. The man blinked but nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he answered, a bit taken aback.

Cooper’s attention immediately moved back to Barb, who hadn’t bothered looking at him despite likely hearing his approach, and he stepped between her and the person she’d been conversing with.

“‘Scuse us,” Cooper said to the man. It was firm enough that he simply nodded and moved away from the both of them, but Bud Askins still hovered nearby. Barb’s shoulders straightened once he’d left and she barely managed to look up at him. There was disdain there, something that would have hurt him to see not too long ago, but now? Now, he was pissed.

“I thought I’d been disgusted by you enough to last me a lifetime, but you just keep pilin’ on don’t you?” Cooper said. He did nothing to regulate his voice and knew that her nosey little pack of rats here in the halls would be listening.

“Coop—”

“No. Enough of this bullshit,” he said, rage hovering beneath his words. Barb’s jaw tightened, stance combative.

“You brought her to set,” she said with an empty chuckle.

“She’s my fucking assistant,” he bit back. Barb looked at him incredulously as he took another step forward. “And if she were anything else, it still wouldn’t be your business. You’re not my wife. You made that choice for us both when you chose Vault-Tec and this future—” Cooper gestured at the vault around them. “Over your family.” The room quieted again. Despite the tears welling up in the corner of Barb’s eyes, he didn’t feel sympathy. No remorse. He was too angry for any of that. “This commercial is the last of our business together, Barbara. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got someone I need to find.”

Cooper moved past Barb and further into the vault. The weight of everyone’s gazes fell on his back. He shook out his arms like it’d help release all the pain, anger, and exhaustion from his body, help him navigate this mess, but truly he just wanted to find you… Wherever you’d gone.

YOU

It was surprising just how quiet everything was in this room, unnerving if you were being totally honest. The teals and whites and pastel yellows and colorful abstract paintings gave it all a home-y feel but it couldn’t have been anything further from it. You were hyper-aware of the underlying lead, the bones of this vault, and it all just felt so… cold. Just like Vault-Tec.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been in this room, examining every little thing until your nerves finally calmed from your very public confrontation with Barb. You didn’t even know if you could face Cooper. He had to have been upset with you and your behavior, it wasn’t the time or place to confront Barb like that, and you were sure you’d sealed your fate with everyone, including him, when you opened your mouth to her.

So you sat at the shiny white dining room table, upon the brand new yellow chairs, and sobbed into your hands. Your tears dropped onto the surface, the faintest of sounds in this secluded space, and it spurred you on. Everything in your life was about to be turned upside down. Not only were you probably going to lose one of the best men you’d ever known, but your name was likely going to be the talk of the town if Barb had anything to say about it.

The part of you that wanted to be understanding and sympathetic, wanted to excuse her actions as someone acting out of grief for her lost marriage, kept gnawing at you and imparting guilt onto your conscience. Even if you knew she was wrong for that, you still couldn’t find it in yourself to hate her. You just felt… bad for her. Even though you’d meant every word you’d said and still felt that residual flickering anger in your chest.

Now Cooper was going to lose everything because of you…

The sound of the door opening sent a jolt through you as you immediately got to your feet, fingers wiping away the tear streaks along your cheeks.

“Color me surprised when the janitor told me you were still hangin’ around down here,” Cooper’s voice rang from the doorway. You couldn’t tell if you were relieved or even more tense than before, jaw clenched.

“Cooper,” you breathed, a sad sound. You cleared your throat and adjusted your dress with shaky hands. Cooper had taken a few steps forward, as though he were testing the waters, if you wanted him to be close or not. “Sorry, I just… started walking and didn’t know where to go so I just… stopped in here to collect myself.”

“I see,” he said and inched closer, hands in his pockets. “What you think?” Cooper’s gaze shifted upwards to indicate he meant the vault. You knew he was trying to ease into a conversation with you about what happened, which gave you a bit of hope since he didn’t come in here screaming and shouting about how unprofessional that was or how everything was screwed up now. It was a relief, no matter how small.

“Cold,” you admitted. “Living behind lead walls when you’ve seen the sky is a tragedy.” Your arms folded over your chest, protective, nervous.

“That’s one way of puttin’ it,” he whispered back.

“Did I screw everything up, Cooper?” you asked suddenly, voice cracking a bit with the emotions that bubbled with every word.

“Oh, hey,” Cooper closed the distance, hands cupping your face so you’d look him in the eye. “No. My business with Barb is done, whether she likes it or not. I don’t give a damn about what she said.”

“But what about, Janey? And your contracts—”

“I’ll manage,” he insisted. “Like I always do.”

“I don’t want to be a distraction for you,” you said and tried to pull your head away, but to no avail. Cooper’s gaze intensified slightly as he pulled you back to look at him. You swallowed hard at the motion.

“I told you already, this ain’t a game for me,” he said firmly. “I don’t want to lose you because of stupid shit my ex-wife said. I can’t… You’re one of the most important people in my life.” You didn’t know what you had expected from Cooper, but it certainly wasn’t this. There was no waver in his speech, no indication that these were falsities, nothing, simply pure truths. “Until you’re sick of me,” he repeated, the phrase plucked from your memory of the lake house.

“Coop—”

There was no arguing, not with the way he kissed you. Intentional, powerful, deep, it was all present in the way he moved against you, the way one of his hands shifted to the nape of your neck and the other pressed against your lower back so that you were flushed with his own body. Your breaths floated into the quiet of the room, lost in the way you both touched and held each other, the temperature rising by the minute.

“Wait, what about—” You tried to gesture to the door that was still wide open, and, without even looking, Cooper backed you both up until his back hit the override button. The door dropped down instantly and he continued devouring your lips. Everything was spinning. “Cooper,” you gasped. His lips traveled down from your lips to your jaw, then to your neck where he bit down greedily. It earned him a moan that you couldn’t help, a blush immediately pooling on your cheeks.

“Keep making sounds like that and I might lose what little control I got left, sweetheart,” he said, all tongue and teeth against your collarbone.

“Should we? Here?” you asked breathlessly. Cooper picked his head up to look at you then, eyes glazed over and a pink tinge over his own cheeks.

“I don’t think you understand,” he said and hovered his mouth over yours. “I’d do just ‘bout anything you asked. Even here. Especially here.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Barb had sufficiently pissed you both off enough that you were willing to desecrate a future residence for a family you didn’t know. Any other day you’d have been the responsible one, insisted that it was inappropriate, but today, a more defiant side seemed to be in control, one Barb had conjured earlier. Even with all the guilt and sympathy you felt, your feelings for Cooper superseded them all and that flickering anger within you had settled into a spitefulness you would have never typically acted on. Until now.

Fuck being his assistant.

Fuck being just his friend.

In this moment, you wanted to be his. Entirely his.

Whatever that meant.

“What’re we waiting for then?” you asked as you gazed up through your eyelashes at him. His breath stuttered, eyes searching yours for any sign of second thoughts, but quickly cut short by the way your fingers found his belt and began undoing it.

“Don’t gotta ask me twice.”

Cooper walked you both back to the bed on the opposite side of the room, just as pristine as the rest of the unit, until you fell back onto it. You watched him as he slid off his jacket, setting it on one of the dining chairs, and undoing his cufflinks. While he rolled up his sleeves, you wiggled off your underwear, giving them a small tug when they got stuck on your heels—which were a little too difficult to take off at the moment. Cooper let out an exhale at the sight, just watching you work. So you slowed down a bit, grabbed the hem of your dress, and dragged it down your thighs.

“Goddamn,” he said with a whistle. Your heartbeat was wild, your breath uneven, and everything about you craved him. He looked so goddamn delicious in his white button-up, loose tie, and grey dress pants that were doing nothing to hide his erection. Cooper approached again but stopped just at the edge of the bed to look at you, the mess you were becoming.

“What?” you asked. Self-consciousness had started to creep in, despite knowing you didn’t need to be. Cooper gestured to you like he couldn’t believe you were there, dress hiked up and eyes expectant.

“Just… Damn,” he said. “What a sight.”

Your cheeks heated up again.

“Well, don’t leave a girl waiting,” you said. He laughed at that.

Cooper dipped down, kissing your propped-up knees, down your thighs, and nudging himself between them. Your head lolled back, heat radiating through your body. The shakiness of your hands had lessened but not gone as you reached up to undo his pants. Cooper shifted back to your neck then, grunting when you finally freed him, tugging his boxers down over his bulge.

“Shit,” he muttered, looking up at you in your eyes again. “Still sure?”

You answered by capturing his lips with yours and guiding him down to your entrance. Without hesitation, he pushed himself in and your gasp turned into a moan as he moved into you, inch by inch. While he wasn’t some egregious size, it’d been a while for you so it took a moment to acclimate, gripping his shoulders tightly until you felt his pelvis against the back of your thighs. You both stayed there for a second, drinking in each other’s presence and the sensation of him inside of you.

Cooper took a deep inhale before he pulled back a couple of inches and slammed back into you. The breath you’d taken was cut off, a beautiful sensation of pleasure trickling through your lower body and dancing upwards, setting your nerves alight. You nodded at him to continue and so he did. Sweat beaded by his brow while pleasure contorted his face.

He thrust back into you a bit harder this time. A moan tumbled from your kiss-swollen lips as you two got lost in one another, grasping at every piece of each other you could get.

Any time before this felt like ages ago, like this was where you were both meant to be and any doubts or reasons against it were out of the window that was still open for anyone to see you. As much as you still cared about being discovered like this, you were too far gone, lost in Cooper’s embrace. Vault-Tec was despicable, Barb was acting horribly… Neither of you deserved that shit.

With a bit of effort, you guided Cooper onto his back, belt jingling against the floor and bed creaking at the movement. He was just as gone as you were with your disheveled hair tumbling over your shoulders and dressed jumbled up to your hips where Cooper’s thumbs pressed into. You settled yourself over him, eyes locking, and he placed his hand on your cheek, caressing it.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he managed.

You smiled as you slid yourself back down onto him. This time, it was him who moaned, a drawn-out, deep-in-his-throat type of sound that you’d never heard from him before. The grip he had on you tightened like he was holding onto the reins of a horse, attempting to be in some sort of control, but when you moved your hips, it was more like he was desperately trying to hold on.

Curses and gasps and moans filled the room, a language all your own. It felt so good that it made you delirious. One of Cooper’s hands slid up to grab your breast, kneading it through the material of your dress and bra, desperate for a new handhold. For a small moment, you could understand the appeal of this pieced-together life. This small slice of life perfectly catered for survival, the preservation of humanity through an act like this, all of it. You could understand the appeal for those who already coveted the white picket fence lifestyle. You didn’t know if this was something that could work for you, but for now, it served its purpose.

You continued to ride him and absorb the sounds that escaped him—all for you.

“Shit,” you whined just as the pressure building within you released, clenching around Cooper who groaned at the feeling.

“Y-You gotta… I’m…” he couldn’t form words but you knew. You removed yourself from him and laid beside him as he pumped one, two, three times, and released all over his hand. His chest was heaving just as much as yours. “Holy… shit…” Cooper used his free hand to rub his brow.

“Yeah,” you breathed.

There was a quiet few seconds between the two of you that was broken by Cooper’s chuckle.

“Just so you know, this ain’t how I thought this would happen,” he said.

“You and me both,” you said with a chuckle. You reached toward the bedside table to grab a tissue, an attempt to help, and he obliged, taking it from you to clean up the mess he’d made.

“I got an idea for next time.” Cooper got up and brought his pants back up, getting himself together again.

“Next time?” you asked in a playful tone, eyebrow raised.

“Sick of me already?” he asked. While he also matched your playfulness, there was something about it that sounded a tad insecure. Unusual for the Cooper Howard. You smiled at him and took the hand he offered to help you up.

“I don’t think I ever could be,” you said. He returned your smile, a sheepish boyish little thing, and placed a sweet kiss on your lips.

The moment you stepped downstairs of the Howard residence, the scent of cigarettes washed over you and the steady sound of idle chatter filled your ears. While the man whose arm you were on would garner attention naturally, it was the togetherness of your body language that drew it this time. Almost every attendee greeted the two of you, even those there to rub elbows for business, niceties and compliments abound. Even the Vault-Tec individuals that had been on set that day played nice. If Barb was there, she didn’t make it known and avoided the both of you for the entire night.

Despite being nervous about the decision to be public tonight, you found it rather easy to do. Cooper did most of the greeting and talking, refusing to stop touching you in some way unless it was for a good reason. It was sweet and you were thankful for the amount of, at least surface-level, respect that was offered to you by everyone. Of course, there was plenty of side-eye and blatantly ignoring you, but Cooper made it a point to introduce you to everyone who wanted to say hello to him unless you knew them.

At some point in the night, Sebastian approached the two of you—a kiss on the cheek for you and a firm pat on the back for Cooper. His eyebrows raised in surprise when he saw your arm looped with Cooper’s, hand resting on his bicep.

“So, finally promoted from assistant to lover—”

“Manager,” the both of you corrected. Sebastian chuckled at you both.

“She’s the only person I really listen to anyhow,” Cooper said, sipping his drink in his hand.

“Aside from Janey,” you corrected.

“Of course,” Cooper said and, to your surprise, placed a kiss on your cheek. You did your best to ignore the nosey side-eyes and smiled at Sebastian.

“Well, congratulations on your successful run with Vault-Tec, and endless happiness to you both,” Sebastian said. He and Cooper clinked their glasses before you all went back to mingling.

The wrap party continued without a hitch, which you were incredibly thankful for, and aside from the small bits of uncomfortableness, you both made it to the end of the night. Once the last guest was out of the door, the two of you retired to his bedroom.

A shared warm shower later—both in temperature and in the way Cooper pinned you against the wall with his own body to run kisses along your shoulders and upper back—you two tumbled into his bed. Your naked bodies slowly writhing against one another, Cooper enjoying you in any way he could, tongue against your clit, fingers deep inside of you, kisses along your stomach… You came undone so many times you almost forgot what century you were in.

Once you had your fill of one another for the night, you laid there like you did in the lake house, and shared soft touches and kisses. That was how you spent most of your nights now, in the comfort of each other’s embrace. Maybe the world would end one day, but as long as you had Cooper Howard, you felt you could withstand the fallout.

#cooper howard #fallout #fallout tv show #fallout tv series #the ghoul #cooper howard fallout #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard smut #cooper howard fanfiction #cooper howard fanfic #fallout fanfic #fallout tv show fanfic #fallout smut #femme reader #fanfic #smut #fanfiction

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athanza · 8 months ago

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Starlett - Part 1

Cooper Howard/fem!OC (not self-insert)

Tags: Hurt/comfort (sort of?), non-allowed romantic connection, lots of tention, pre and post war drama, some fluff

Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse (no graphic scenes or descriptions of that nature), angst, canon wasteland violence

Summary: The Ghoul remembers a recruit of Moldaver, by the name of Irene Taylor, who he met before the war.

This branches out from canon but I thought it was a cute story idea so I had to write it. Enjoy! ♡

Part 2 | Part 3 | Final part

2296

Cooper's weather-beaten boots thudded on the dirt, the stones crackling beneath his heels.

The town was too quiet for there not to be a surprise waiting for him somewhere amongst the pre-war rubble so when a glimpse of movement caught his attention and he pulled his gun.

A kid, no older than 15 held up his hands in fear.

"Please don't shoot!"

Coopers sunken eyes narrowed. "Do yourself a favour and scram. If you try anything I will shoot you. Understand?"

The kid nodded frantically in agreement and Cooper gestured with his gun for the kid to get out of there.

As the boy ran off, a large, rolled up piece of paper fell out of his backpack and unfurled face-up in the dirt.

Cooper stepped over as he re-holstered his gun, and looked down at it out of curiosity. When he saw a familiar face on it he bent down to pick it up and held it out in front of him.

"Irene Taylor," It read. "Songbird of Hollywood Hills."

On the poster was a large photograph of a glamorous woman behind a microphone, and a look of a fond, yet faded, remembrance appeared on his scarred features.

2077

"This is a little public for a meeting isn't it?" Cooper asked as he and Lee Muldaver made their way to an empty table at a local jazz club called the Bird Cage.

"My contact is meeting us here. Don't worry about being recognised, this place is used to celebrities, they mind their own business."

They took a seat and settled in and Cooper turned his attention to the band, the singer had a lovely voice and it reminded him of the band that played at his wedding. He shook the memory from his mind.

"So where is this contact?" He asked.

Muldaver smiled a little. "You're listening to her."

He looked back at the singer.

Now that he thought about it, he did recognise her. He'd seen her face on posters for jazz clubs all over the city but never gave them much thought.

"Her husband is Frank Taylor, he's an executive for Vault Tec. She feeds us any information she can get. She's one of our best."

She had wonderful stage presence, captivating the audience with a rendition of "Them There Eyes" by Billie Holiday. Her champagne coloured dress sparkled in the stage lights, and she had every person in that room wrapped around her finger, and she knew it.

When she finished the song the room roared with applause and she stepped off the stage, politely thanking patrons as they came up to her on her way over.

Muldaver rose from her seat to meet her as she reached their table.

"Lee." Irene smiled fondly as she hugged her. "Thank you for coming."

"That was wonderful as always."

"Stop it you." Irene joked.

"May I introduce Mr. Cooper Howard?"

Irene looked at him and he held out his hand, having stood up with Muldaver.

"Pleasure to meet you Mr. Howard." She smiled as she took his hand.

"The pleasure is mine." He replied with a charming grin.

She sat down at their table and waved the waiter down for a round of drinks.

"How is everything going? Is Frank well?" Muldaver asked.

Cooper noticed Irene make a subtle, nervous glance at the bar before answering. "He's fine." She replied. "You said there was something you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Yes, our new recruit."

Muldaver looked at Cooper and Irene seemed surprised, unable to reply for a few seconds.

"I apologise for seeming so shocked, but with all of your promotions with Vault Tec, you're one of the last people I'd expect."

"Don't worry about it." He replied, reassuring her. "I understand. I'm not the first I'd expect either."

"Well, I guess this proves how convincing Lee can be." She smiled again, but there was something in that smile that seemed pained somehow.

Just then, a man came up behind them with a drink in his hand and put the other on Irene's shoulder and she jumped a little.

By her reaction Cooper thought it was another random patron come to say hello and invade her space, but he kissed her on the cheek and she looked up and smiled at him.

"Hello darling." She said.

"Hi Frank, how have you been?" Muldaver smiled.

"Oh, you know, more hours and no pay rise." He joked.

It was obvious he was tipsy and the discomfort on Irene's face as her husband sat down next to her made Cooper's eyes narrow a little.

"Darling, have you met Mr. Howard?"

"No I haven't had the pleasure." Frank replied, reaching over to shake his hand. "Nice to finally meet you Mr. Howard, your advert for vault 4 was terrific, exactly what we were looking for. I was sad to hear about your resignation."

Cooper shifted in his seat and chuckled uncomfortably, trying to retain his professionalism. "Ah, well, I'm not getting any younger." He joked.

Frank laughed, a little louder than was necessary. "Aren't we all! Say, is it true that it was your real dog in A Man and His Dog?".

Cooper took a sip of his drink that had just arrived. "Yes, Roosevelt, he's a beloved member of our little family."

"Well isn't that just the cutest darn thing." He smiled.

Irene was shrinking. Frank's presence was drowning the one that was only just captivating an entire audience. Then he noticed it and his chest pulsed with distain.

"Mr. Taylor, would you mind if I stole your wife for a dance?"

Irene looked slightly worried and stuttered her reply. "U-um, I don't..." She looked at Frank, almost for permission.

He hesitated but wanted to save face in front of everyone. "Of course." He smiled.

She stood up and walked over to take Cooper's extended hand.

He lead her to the dance floor. The band was playing an instrumental of "Good Morning Heartache" and he placed a hand on her waist.

"Not too close." She said. She realised her fear had slipped out and very quickly composed herself. "Don't want Frank to get jealous." She chuckled, disguising her reaction with a joking tone.

He stayed a modest distance from her as they began swaying to the music.

"He's playing it down but Frank is a big fan of yours. He's seen almost all of your movies, even dressed as your role in The Man From Calabasas for Halloween a few years back."

"You know," he said. "There's a funny story from that set. In the scene where I had to lasso that steer, the first take it somehow managed to pull me clean off my horse. I had a terrible black eye for two weeks after that, but the makeup team covered it up so well that no one could tell. In other words, I know a cover job when I see one."

She nervously glanced at her shoulder, briefly enough that hopefully Frank wouldn't notice if he was watching her.

"I know we just met, and it's none of my business, but Lee told me you married him for the mission. If he's hurting you, you need to tell her."

"She knows." Irene replied.

"She knows? And she hasn't pulled you out?"

"I asked her not to."

"Why?"

"Because this cause means a lot to me, and whatever I'm going through is for the greater good. I'm the only one with my foot in the door this high up, at least before you showed up."

He was getting angry now, not at anyone in particular, but at the unnecessary situation.

"Forgive me, but that's about the biggest pile of bullshit I've ever heard. You don't need to be in this any more than I do."

She scoffed dismissively. "You don't understand Mr. Howard, this is my purpose, stopping Vault Tec in any way that I can, even if it's one password or document at a time."

Part 2

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bonesxbows · 5 months ago

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Act Naturally - Chapter 1 (Cooper Howard X Reader)

Masterlist

While exploring an old section of Hollywood, the two of you stumble upon an old advertisement for a cowboy movie. But the man on the poster looks suspiciously a lot like Cooper, even down to the same smile. But it couldn't possibly be him...right?

(WARNINGS) - anger issues - negative self talk (from Cooper not you)

I feel like I dragged this on for way longer than it needed to be BUT it's a done thing now and tbh I'm pretty happy with it. I fucking adore soft Cooper moments and idc if I have to write them all myself

Also! This idea came from @land-of-evergreens-and-dye so full credit to them for letting me stew on this prompt

Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Reblogs and comments much appreciated!

Banners by @strangergraphics

The two of you had found yourselves in an old section of Hollywood. It had been so long since Cooper had told you his reason for bringing you here that you’d forgotten what his motivation for this excursion was. Although it didn’t really matter to you, you’d follow him anywhere whether he wanted you to tag along or not. There was no separating you two. Not anymore.

Most of the buildings had been boring to scavenge through, if you could even find a way inside at all. Not much was left of the boulevard besides dusty sidewalks and rusting billboards. But one building in particular piqued your interest. It had a larger facade than all the rest where small billboard-like signs hung above the wide double doors. Broken and busted bulb lights framed the signs and the rows of black lettering were missing far too many letters to be able to read it clearly. What letters you could make out only baffled you more than the strange-looking building did.

‘Co - How - Starr - in - Th - M - Fr - Dea - Horse’

“Horse? What’s a horse?” you asked out loud, more to yourself than to him. He usually never listened to your mid-exploring ramblings, though he never did tell you to stop. You turned around to find him staring up at the old sign too, although his brow was creased and a scowl was stuck on his face. You placed a hand on his shoulder and he turned to you, his expression softening as his eyes shifted to looking at you instead.

“You wanna check inside there, don’ you?” He asked.

You nodded and gave him a small smile. “Can we? Please? I’ve never seen any place like it before.”

“Hm. ‘Spose we can. But make it quick alright?” He checked his pistol’s ammunition levels and flipped the barrel back into place once he was satisfied. You led the way forward, pushing the swinging doors inward as Cooper was right behind you, pistol in hand and trigger finger ready.

He was a little disappointed when the place appeared to be empty. But the feeling didn’t last, he couldn’t stay upset as he watched you scurry around the place, your eyes wide with fascination. The interior was even more astonishing to you than the exterior had been. Rows of folding booth-like chairs covered the majority of the floor, their fabric exterior faded and torn, and in the back of the building was a wooden stage. Ragged old curtains framed the blank wall behind the stage where its faded white paint chipped and peeled off the plaster. There wasn’t much hiding between the rows of chairs besides dust and sand but you still kept your hopes high that the rest of the building would hold something worthwhile.

“What is this place? Some kind of shooting gallery?” you asked, your wasteland-born intelligence of pre-war places was lacking, but fortunately for you, Cooper liked you enough to fill you in on what knowledge you didn't have.

He chuckled at your observation. He supposed a shooting gallery was just about the closest thing you could get to a theater these days. “Not ‘xactly, sweetheart. It was used for movies, picture shows, that kinda thing. A place where folks could feign ignorance ‘bout the end of the world fast approachin’ on their heels.”

“Movies? Like the kind on those busted-up televisions?” you continued to explore around as you talked. He followed you, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary that could be dangerous while you focused on the useful and exciting things you could find.

“Mmhm. Just like those. Never endin’ loops of fairytale stories kept alive by people long gone by now.” he explained, and you ended the conversation after that. His voice was strained and scruffy, meaning he was either remembering something he wanted to forget or he was getting agitated. Either way, you knew it was in your best interest to stop asking questions.

Things got progressively more interesting when you discovered the back rooms of the building. The first one had been large, with dusty velvet ropes leading to a counter filled with food machines and nuka-cola dispensers, you’d come back here to scavenge all the food you could carry with you on your way out, but the hallways and storage rooms were what really piqued your attention.

Posters lined the wooden walls of the hallways, the plaster that had once surrounded them now nothing more than dust on the ground. The paper was old, torn, and extremely faded, even with the lack of sunlight in the place. The color was all but gone from the paper, but you could still make out the words if you squinted hard enough.

“Cooper Howard Starring in The Man From Dead Horse.” The letters matched up with the ones from outside but yet you were still baffled on what exactly a horse was. The poster had no other information to help clarify, although you found it interesting that the man on the paper supposedly shared your cowboy’s name.

“Huh.” You exclaimed as you studied the pictures.

“What?” Cooper called after you, pulling his attention only slightly away from the containers he was looting around the place, looking for spare ammo or anything else that was useful.

“Nothing. Just something about these posters. Are these about those movies you were talking about?” you asked, which had him turning around to examine the poster along with you. The only response he gave you was a short grunt, which you knew translated to a yes. You shifted your eyes back to the paper on the wall. Most of the color may have been gone but you could still make out a blue shirt on a man with a white cowboy hat on top of his head. He stood in a pose with his revolver in the air and his other hand on his hip. He wore a smirk on his face that felt familiar and something in the back of your mind itched like you had seen this all before…somewhere. But you couldn't pinpoint the memory.

When you turned back around Cooper was already gone down the hallway so you hurried to follow him, tearing your eyes from the poster but keeping your mind on the nagging feeling it left you with. Maybe if you turned the picture over in your head enough times the memory you were looking for would click, or so you hoped.

His attitude had significantly changed after you found that poster. He became more on edge and that gruff exterior he had when you had first met him was back. He rushed through the rest of the building, seemingly not caring if you were behind him or not. By the time you caught up with him, he was shoving his way back out through the swinging front doors. You could see the finger on his pistol’s trigger starting to twitch. You followed him outside and down the road a way until he stopped in front of the first billboard he saw.

Like everything else in the wasteland, the colors were gone and the picture was faded, but you could clearly tell it had been an advertisement for Vault-Tec before the bombs. Cooper didn’t hesitate to unload every round in his revolver through the billboard. Pieces of wood and metal went flying and you instinctively covered your face, listening to the bullet casings and wood chips hit the concrete around you. He eventually ran out of bullets, although you could still hear him clicking the trigger. Once the gun sounded empty you lowered your arms again, examining the now hole-riddled Vault Boy on the billboard. Cooper’s face still held a nasty scowl.

“You got a personal vendetta with Vault-Tec I don't know about or something? What just happened?” you asked. If you were anyone else he would have filled you with lead just for asking a question right then and there. He was currently too angry to deal with stupidity. But he would never purposefully hurt you, that was one line he refused to cross in his mind. But unknowingly to you your words only fueled his anger more.

“Shut it. Let’s go. I’m sick of this place.” he snapped, his usual drawl and accent missing and replaced by venom in his words. He quickened his pace out of the block of streets and you followed him, but you kept your distance to a minimum of a few feet at least for the remainder of the trek.

It had been a few hours since Cooper’s outburst and the two of you had set up camp for the night inside of an old diner. He had seemed to calm down a little but he had set himself up in the corner of a booth with his hat pulled down over his eyes and his feet kicked up on the table in front of him. Which left you alone with your thoughts in front of his makeshift campfire. You watched the sun sink below the horizon as you replayed the earlier events of the day over and over in your head, still trying to connect the dots. You stared at Cooper, his supposedly sleeping form leaning against the worn material of the diner booth, hoping that if you focused on him hard enough you could will the connection in your mind to click.

And then the realization hit you like a lightning bolt, your eyes pulling all of the pieces together in front of you as you stared at his hat and the rough skin poking out from underneath it.

You sprang up from your seat on the ground, sliding yourself into the booth on the other side of the table in front of him. He didn't seem to notice until you reached over and yanked his cowboy hat off of his head with one swift motion. His eyes shot open and immediately landed on you.

“Can’t a ghoul get some shut-eye ‘round here without you botherin’ him?” he scoffed, pulling himself up into a sitting position and turning to face you across the table. You didn’t respond and instead placed his hat on the table in front of you, staring at him with full intent. He was unbothered underneath your intense gaze, either he was used to being stared at or knew you weren’t much of a threat to him. “I got somethin’ in my teeth or is this a new hobby of yours I don’ know about?” he asked, your silence was irking him more than your constant staring.

You let your eyes do all the work and your imagination filled in the blanks, pulling both images in your head together; the man from the poster and the man sitting in front of you. His dirty blue shirt peaking out from underneath his duster confirmed your suspicion.

“You’re him.” was all you said as the realization set in.

“Pardon?”

“You're him! From the poster earlier! That's why he looked so familiar!” your excitement was getting hard to contain. You had known Cooper was from before the bombs but you hadn’t known he was THAT Cooper Howard.

“Darlin’, I have no idea what you’re on about. You best forget ‘bout that whole theater ‘fore you go and stir up trouble.” he told you, folding his arms in front of him on the table as his brow darkened his eyes.

“What’s the big deal, Coop? Why didn’t you tell me? Is that why you rushed out of there so quickly?” you spoke quickly, the questions flooding out of your mouth faster than you had intended.

“Hmph. ‘What’s the big deal?’ The ‘big deal’ is that man is dead. Has been for over 200 years. I ain’t keen on bringin’ him back neither. His optimism and gullibility got him killed and that was the end of that. I’m done rememberin’ the sorry excuse I got for a past. Reminiscing don’ keep you alive for long.” his western accent was tangled together with poison as he spat out his words. But his scary looks didn’t work on you anymore.

“Maybe, but you’re still him, Coop. You’ve adapted to the wasteland but you’re still you. Roughed up and scarred a little, sure, but who isn’t?” you told him, doing your best to keep your voice soft to combat his spitefulness.

“A little? Sweetheart, I’m a damn monster, everyone out ‘ere thinks so. Whatever was left of good ol’ Cooper Howard died when this here skin started fallin’ off. I’m done bein’ nice in a world that does nothin’ but kicks you when you’re down.”

“I don’t think you're a monster.”

It was one sentence, just a few words, but it made him pause. His scowl vanished for a few seconds and was replaced by a look of confusion. There was a small smile tugging at his lips too, if you were quick enough to notice it before it was gone. He sighed and leaned back against the booth.

“Well then that’s one hell of a lapse of judgment on your part sweetheart.” he hooked his hands together and put them behind his head, cradling the back of his neck as he closed his eyes again and leaned further into the booth. But you weren't done with the conversation just yet.

You got up, grabbed his hat off of the table, and shifted yourself into the booth he was sitting in. You looked at him and then looked down at his hat in your hands. A relic from over two centuries ago, covered in sand and caked in dirt. But still a working and functioning cowboy hat. It protected its wearer from the harsh sun and there was a sense of safety woven somewhere in between the fibers. Broken and beaten and even dirtied beyond repair, it was still a hat. And Cooper was still a person.

You climbed on top of the table, being careful not to accidentally kick him with your feet as you positioned yourself in front of him and placed a leg on either side of his body. You placed his hat in its rightful place on top of his head, making him open his eyes again when he felt your touch. He looked up at you curiously, fully not expecting you to be on the table in front of him. You reached down and grabbed both of the lapels of his duster, balling the fabric up in your fists as you pulled him forward and smashed your lips into his. You were quick with your movements, something you had learned from being around Cooper so much recently, which left little to no time for him to react or protest against your sudden affection.

Although he didn't seem to mind. His hands found their way to your hips almost automatically and he slipped them under your shirt, grabbing at your soft skin roughly. Tomorrow morning you would have bruises all over your hips in the shape of his fingertips, but it happened so often now that the purples and blues were a permanent part of you. You had started this impromptu makeout session but he was determined to finish it. His tongue worked fervidly like he was mapping the constellations in the night sky across the inside of your mouth. He never once gave you the chance to take the lead and he was as quick as a viper to wrangle back control when you tried to take it yourself. At some point he had shifted his hands underneath you and scooped you off the table, sliding you right into his lap while still keeping a strong grip on you, never once slowing down with his tongue. Your legs were forced to wrap around him, your bodies now flush against each other in the booth.

It wasn’t long after he had pulled you closer that you had to pull away, panting and taking gulps of air. You finally let go of his jacket as you leaned back against the table, feeling the metal edge digging into your back as you did so.

“You know for a so-called ‘monster’ you sure know how to make someone feel breathless.” You told him as you admired the way he was smirking at you. Ironically it was the exact same smirk from that old poster of him, although you noticed he had shifted from that old-school charming look to now one that held an aura of danger around him.

“Hm. Well, now I’ve never been the type to pass up an opportunity when it’s handed to me. ‘Specially if it ends with somethin’ pretty sittin’ in my lap.” his grip on your hips was still ironclad as his eyes raked over you. His stare felt similar to a hunter stalking its prey. You knew what he was doing, trying to convince himself he was right by acting like a predator, but you knew the truth underneath the facade. You had seen firsthand how he had cared for you and looked after you even when he stood to gain nothing in return.

“Whether the old Cooper is dead or not doesn’t change the fact that I love this, right here, right now. Whatever led to you being my cowboy, I wouldn’t change a thing.” you ran your fingers up his chest as you spoke, fiddling your way underneath the collar of his cowboy costume to run your fingertips along the raised edges of his scarred skin. He sat back and let you touch him, not making any move to try and stop you. He’d let you do anything your little heart desired. He was your cowboy, he knew that, and yet two hundred years ago he would have never imagined meeting someone like you. He’d be damned if he would let anything happen to you, you were the only good thing he had left in this fucked up world. He refused to let anything else be taken from him.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he mumbled as he brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, relishing in the way the soft cartilage felt against his marred fingertips. He ran the very tip of his finger against the edge of your ear, earning a tilt of your head as a response to the sensation.

“Cooper?” you asked, making his eyes flick to yours. He noticed you had pulled your hand out from under his shirt and instead, you had placed it on top of his chest, mindlessly fumbling with the ancient fringe attached to the front.

“Hm?”

“I still have one question,” you told him, knitting your brows together in curiosity.

“I’m listenin’.” he had been so enraptured by your affection that he had no idea what to anticipate, especially when your face had turned so serious.

“What even is a horse, anyway?”

It took him a great deal of effort to stifle his laughter.

#my writings #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #the ghoul x reader #fallout the ghoul #the ghoul #fallout tv series #fallout tv #fallout prime #fallout tv fanfic #cooper howard fanfiction #Cooper howard fanfic

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sirdindjarin · 8 months ago

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A Ghoul and a Vault-Dweller Walk Into a Bar

Cooper "The Ghoul" Howard x Lucy MacLean.

TAGS: Fluff, pining, introspection lol.

WARNINGS: Swearing, alcohol consumption.

Based off of this post ! I loved the idea and couldn't get it out of my head.

AO3 link 🤠

A few days after the events of the last episode, the Ghoul and Lucy take solace in a quiet saloon, only to find their dynamic is changing.

“Ain’t this a peach,” the Ghoul muttered, taking in the New Vegas saloon. It was a postwar attempt to recreate what no one still walking had ever experienced, but it was faithful enough to send the Ghoul back to the set of a movie some two centuries earlier. He could smell the burn of the stage lights, hear the staccato of studio executives arguing, and see PAs stumbling over cables in the background.

His bittersweet reverie ended when - what else - the Vault Dweller opened her mouth. Again.

Bouncing on her tiptoes, her wide smile was interrupted only by her exclamation, “Wow! This place is right out of a history book. Oh, gosh, look at that!”

Hanging from the ceiling was a myriad of materials in various stages of rust and decay. Grimy, glaring patrons grumbled as Lucy rushed past their tables to examine some memorabilia plastered to the wall. She gingerly ran her gray forefinger over the rusted farm equipment. “See these? They used to pull these behind a tractor, or a horse, and it made furrows in the ground. That made it a lot easier for them to plant things like corn, tobacco, wheat -”

The Ghoul ignored her lesson. Let the history buff have her boring version of fun, it’d give him some peace. After the past three days, he needed it. He strode toward the far end of the bar, spurs clinking.

Lucy had been silent after the revelation with her father. Downright catatonic, almost. The following morning, still in sight of the Hollywood sign, and out of the daggum goodness of his heart (truly, he’d been a saint to even think about it) he’d offered her a hit of an upper, but she’d curled her lip in disgust. No skin off his nose, he’d thought humorously, he would just let her stew.

Before the sun had set that next day, however, the girl abruptly flipped from traumatized silence to her usual non-stop chatter. He hadn't asked what changed. The Ghoul assumed she'd come to terms with her father being an evil sonofabitch. He expected her trauma would rear its ugly head at some point, but that was a future problem. Once she started talking again, he had again been a saint - he’d only thought about shooting her once. And that only because she had asked him a stupid question.

You mentioned finding your family. You have kids?

Sidling up to the bar top, his ragged coat slapping gently against the stool, the Ghoul’s attention was drawn to a jukebox against the wall to his right. Colorful lights flashed, dimmed by a layer of dust; but the old machine advertised it was ready to sing. He glanced curiously at some of the songs, felt a flicker of some emotion he wouldn’t put name to, and turned away. He drummed his gloved fingers on the wooden counter, impatient to have something to smother the spark of sadness. Here, the weight of the past was literally hanging over his head.

The Ghoul had directed his focus on the other end of the bar, where the barkeep seemed to be pointedly ignoring him, when a dull scraping sound alerted him to someone sitting beside him - between him and the mocking jukebox.

“Hi! Barkeep?” Lucy beamed and motioned between herself and the Ghoul, “Could we get a drink, please?”

The gruff man looked more like a patron than a bartender, all heavy gait and uninterested stare, but he raised his eyebrows at Lucy. The Ghoul laughed under his breath.

“What?” She asked in a whisper. Grimacing, she worried, “Oh… is that not how you’re supposed to do it?”

“There’s a laundry list of things you shouldn’t be doin’, Vaultie, but flaggin’ down the bartender ain’t one of ‘em.”

Lucy straightened her posture. “You know, we have established a mutual goal and I would appreciate mutual respect. I don’t think being laughed at is-”

“Sweetheart, I ain’t laughin’ at you; quit bein’ so sensitive,” the Ghoul stated flatly. “Don’t we make quite the damned pair? A Ghoul and a Vault Dweller walk into a bar…” he trailed off with another chuckle.

Lucy relaxed her shoulders, still feeling awkward. “Oh, haha.”

“All we got is distilled water and tequila. Which’un you want?” The bartender interrupted, though he spoke only to Lucy.

“Uh, I would like to try the tequila. I still have some water leftover and it’ll be fun to try something new.”

The bartender sucked on his teeth, turned, and left - resenting serving a peppy Vault Dweller and outright refusing to serve the arrogant ghoul seated beside her as though it was a person.

“They don’t much like my kind here, darlin’,” the Ghoul grinned lopsidedly. He tapped his holster with his new forefinger. “I’ll have to get my drink a different way.”

Eyes wide, Lucy nearly stood on the rung of the stool as she shouted to the bartender: “Make that two glasses of tequila, please.”

The barkeep went still for a brief moment before deciding it wasn’t worth it. He’d seen some weird shit, but if this wasn’t the strangest duo he’d ever served, he’d eat a radroach. He sent the shots sliding down the well-worn wood counter with surprising skill, and they stopped directly in front of Lucy. She nudged one of the grimy glasses toward the Ghoul, who grunted.

In those old movies, the characters often clinked their glasses together. Excited to perform a toast in a real saloon, Lucy raised her glass toward the Ghoul. Her eyes sparkled so earnestly that the Ghoul briefly considered indulging her. Instead, he tipped the shot glass into his parched mouth, eyes closing in satisfaction.

“Ah,” he hummed. This was nothing like the chems he used to stay sane, and tequila wasn’t his favorite, but damn if it didn’t feel like the alcohol stripped off some of the layers of the past week's shit.

Upon opening his eyes, he was surprised by the mix of amusement and regret in his chest at the way the girl’s face had fallen. It was childishly funny the way he could disappoint her so easily - as though they kept the same standards of behavior - but the pleasure of her disappointment only took the Ghoul so far.

“Go on, sweetheart,” he goaded, his voice deep and persuasive. “It ain’t top-shelf but it ain’t lizard-piss, either.”

“I don’t know what either of those mean,” Lucy mumbled as she brought the glass to her lips; she winced as fumes burned her nostrils. Abandoning caution, she threw the clear liquid into her mouth and swallowed as the Ghoul had. The liquid stung as it slid down her throat; her mouth puckered. Fighting the urge to cough, she cleared her throat instead. Lucy refused to let the Ghoul have anything more to bully her about.

Lucy blinked away the wetness in her eyes. The Ghoul was watching her. Lucy couldn’t discern the look in his eye, but it wasn’t one she’d seen before. The Ghoul had made certain of that.

“That was, um, so good,” she grimaced. But the warmth in her chest and stomach was pleasant. “You want another?”

The Ghoul chuckled, “If you’re buyin’.”

***

“No, I only meant it as a compliment,” Lucy slurred, blushing furiously. She was only four shots in, but the Ghoul was starting to get concerned that she would throw up on him. Lucy wobbled on her stool. “Really, they’re nice eyes. No, ‘m okey dokey. Wow, this stuff is strong.” She held her hand out in front of her and wiggled her fingers, fascinated by the way her vision seemed to be a half-second beyond reality.

“Must be. You,” he pointed in her face, “can’t handle your liquor.”

"Hey, it’s my first try," she steadied herself.

“It’s gon’ be your last if you paint my boots. You look a little green, Vaultie.”

Her big brown eyes refocused on the Ghoul. “Okay, well, distract me. I know you won’t tell me anything about yourself.”

He tensed.

“And that’s okay. But I don't even know your name." Lucy threw him a frown, "What if I have to call for you - what am I supposed to say?”

The Ghoul chewed at the inside of his cheek, tearing away some skin as he considered. He’d had twelve shots. She wasn’t asking anything too revealing; and she had saved his life. And maybe all her “Do Unto Others” bullshit wasn’t bullshit, but he still wasn’t about to crack open like a can of biscuits. The Ghoul gazed down into her doe eyes, then he and the tequila made a decision.

“Cooper,” he answered after safely looking away, his voice rough over the word.

Something scratched at the back of Lucy’s brain. Tipsy as she was, she knew this was important - she did not want to ruin whatever progress they seemed to have made. She nodded and replied politely, “That’s a good name. Cooper.”

Lucy watched the rainbow of lights as they reflected off the shiny bar. She slid off the stool and leaned over the jukebox, flipping idly through the songs.

Cooper held his thirteenth shot in his gloved hand as he stared ahead at the blank wall of the now-empty saloon. After they had collectively purchased nearly twenty shots, the bartender had lost all sense of distaste for either of them; he now sat in a chair, dozing, waiting for the Ghoul and the Vault Dweller to ask him for more.

A gasp came from Cooper’s right. His stool groaned as he turned, and he saw Lucy grinning up at him.

“Look at this song: I Walk the Line. It’s from one of my favorite movies -”

Cooper's stomach lurched.

“A Man and His Dog.” Lucy selected the song. “And the main character’s real name was Cooper. Used to watch those old Westerns with - with my dad all the time. The best ones are the ones with him. With Cooper Howard, I mean. He was always the good guy. He never hurt anyone. Well, unless he absolutely had to, of course.” She began to wax poetic about ethics, and her audience of one tuned out. The gruff croon of Johnny Cash filled the otherwise silent building.

Cooper Howard debated whether or not he should tell her the truth. He didn’t know how much she knew about his life as an actor - some of her questions about his family could be answered if she knew about his widely-publicized, definitely-public-record divorce - but seeing her face when she learned that her favorite cowboy movie star was the radiation-ravaged monster sitting beside her would be hilarious.

I keep my eyes wide open all the time

I keep the ends out for the tie that binds

Well, would it be hilarious? Cooper wasn’t so certain anymore. Lucy’s disappointment in him was rapidly losing its luster. Her cowboy had fallen a height that would’ve killed anyone else - had killed almost everyone else. The good man she idolized was dead. He wouldn’t resurrect him just to kill him again in front of Lucy.

For the second time that afternoon, she pulled him abruptly from a reverie.

“I wonder what it was like. Everyone in these saloons… with a jukebox playing while you dance with a handsome stranger,” Lucy gazed out at the empty room. “It must’ve been incredible.”

Cooper didn’t correct her about jukeboxes and saloons. Instead, he took his thirteenth shot, allowing it to burn away what was left of his judgment.

“Well, come on down, darlin’.” He held out his hand - the one that was one-fifth her.

Dubious, distrustful despite their fledgling partnership, Lucy’s eyes darted between his outstretched hand and his dark eyes. This man had cut off her finger less than a week before. He’d tried to sell her.

But this wasn't a desperate game of cat and mouse, and he no longer believed she was a lying murderer. (That conversation had been a hoot. One of the few times he’d asked her a question, Cooper had wondered what possessed her to cut off Wilzig’s fuckin’ head, and, after she told him Wilzig had left her no choice, she tearfully described the sound of his spine severing and nearly vomited. The Ghoul had laughed.) She was here of her own choice. Lucy chose to follow the Ghoul - Cooper - into the Wilds and the Wasteland. She trusted him now, and he her.

“It’s alright, Vaultie. Y’know I won’t bite,” he drawled with a smirk. “Of the two’ve us, which one has bitten the other?”

“Wh-?” Lucy started to ask, then decided better of it. Cooper had given her his name and his trust. He had been as kind as summer by Wasteland standards, and she would be damned if her manners were the poor ones. She took his hand.

As sure as night is dark and day is light

I keep you on my mind both day and night

The room was spinning, and Lucy wasn’t sure if the blame should be placed on the tequila or the Ghoul who held her so gently. This was a far cry from the lasso he’d thrown around her last week. She opened her mouth, fully intent on telling him See, the Golden Rule is golden for a reason. But when his hand slid slowly from the curve of her waist to the small of her back, she found that the words were missing.

He guided them in a small, slow circle. Cooper’s chest was pressed up against her own, and it was though his centuries-deep layers of leather and cotton, and her pristine, thick Vault-Tec suit were non-existent. The vulnerability set his teeth on edge, but it relaxed Lucy. She let the music, the alcohol, and the Ghoul take her. Uncharacteristically shy, and somewhat nauseous, she laid her head on his shoulder.

Cooper hummed along with Johnny Cash, letting himself feel a modicum of peace in this improbable, inexplicable bubble. He could feel Lucy’s heart beating rapidly beneath her garish suit. His own heart felt like the tattoo of a horse’s hooves. Cooper’s jaw tensed as he wondered how she’d feel to know that. He found himself hoping.

Hope and contentment were as foreign to him as a nose and hair, now. Yet he felt the gnaw of yearning. Lucy was a reflection and a time machine. Maybe that cowboy - the one who deserved both hope and contentment - could live again.

And happiness I've known proves that it's right

Because you're mine, I walk the line.

#OTP: “Just like that.”#myfics #my fics #my writing #the ghoul #cooper howard #fallout #fallout fanfic #the ghoul fanfic #walton goggins #lucy maclean #ella purnell #fluff #cooper howard fanfic #ghoulcy #ghoulcy fanfic #the ghoul x lucy maclean #cooper howard x lucy maclean

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your-averagewriter · 6 months ago

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"Thinking I don’t love you, ‘course I do, sweetheart.”

Summary: (y/n) storms off after an argument with Cooper thinking he doesn't care about her but she soon realises that someone is trailing her.

Word count: 0.8K

Warnings: Swearing

“Fuck you, Cooper.” I grab my rucksack

“I’d happily oblige.” He teases despite me being frustrated.

“I’m not joking, Cooper, leave me alone.” I say storming off.

“If that’s what you want, sugar.” His refusal to react with any emotion only makes me more annoyed as I walk off into the desert.

“I’m serious, I’m leaving and you can’t stop me.” I yell, turning back to look at him briefly before heading off into the desert, despite it nearly being night time.

The temperature drops quickly as the sun disappears from the sky but I keep my eyes set on some ruins not too far on the horizon to stay for the night, just to be away from Cooper no matter how cold I’ll be without him.

Getting there, I stay the night on the cold, hard floor, regretting not taking the makeshift bedding from Cooper’s bag when I left so I prepare for an uncomfortable night.

Unsurprisingly, I wake up early in the morning, just as the sun comes up, waking me up as I pack all my stuff up and leave, deciding arbitrarily that I’m heading into town to top up on supplies that I forgot to take from Cooper before leaving.

I stop from lunch, sitting down at the top of a sand dune and pulling a small amount of food that barely equals lunch but it’s the best I’ve got to eat. Ripping open a pack of overly dry crackers, I bite into one of them, regretting not taking more water from Cooper.

I keep watch on the horizon before seeing someone walk over one of the dunes, I take my sniper off my back, using the scope to check out the threat before seeing someone dressed exactly like Cooper. I sigh when he gets closer, his face identifiable.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I mumble, watching as Cooper walks through the desert, the same path as I was walking.

I throw my backpack on, opting to eat the dry crackers on the move to get away from him. Checking back every now and then, he trails me throughout the desert but stays far enough away that I can’t talk to him, barely able to identify him without my scope.

I turn around and stop walking and watch as he gets a pair of binoculars I bought for us out of his bag to look at me and I put my middle finger on both hands up at him, hoping he’ll get the hint but I imagine he just laughs, dismissing me.

He follows me until I reach the treeline where he’s unable to see me anymore, waiting for him to take the bait. Waiting, I use my sniper scope to see how close he gets and as soon as he breaches the treeline I stand up.

“Can you stop fucking following me? I told you I was done.” I huff.

“You ain’t done. You ain’t never gonna be done with me ‘cause you couldn’t handle it.” He smirks.

“You seem to be the one who couldn’t handle it - following me around.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I need you as much as you need me so why are you messing around?” He asks.

“Because you’re a dickhead.” I point out.

“That’s true but I’m a lotta things and if that’s the only one you have a problem with then I’d say you’re dealing with me pretty well.”

“I have more problems with you.” I cross my arms, stubborn.

“Please, go ahead, feel free to list ‘em.”

“You’re mean, you’re rude, you never admit when you’re wrong, you, you, you never wear socks with your shoes.” He chuckles at the last one. “And you never tell me you love me and it feels like I’m just following you around like some lost puppy that you found on the street and felt bad for.”

“You done?” I take a breath that he takes as a yes. “You’re one silly woman, you. Thinking I don’t love you, ‘course I do, sweetheart.” He scoffs, wrapping his arm affectionately around my neck and pulling me closer to press a kiss to my forehead. “Now stop running away and come back with me.”

I pretend like I’m even gonna make the choice not to go with him, I didn’t take all the supplies I would’ve needed and I can’t even lie about the fact that I love him and probably wouldn’t last that long without him. “Fine.” I sigh. “But you’ve got some making up to do.”

“‘Course, ‘course. If I didn’t make you feel loved then I’ve definitely got some making up to do.” He says. “Now, get your bag, let’s go.” He says and I grab my rucksack, throwing over my back before he takes it off of me carrying it for me. “Least I could do.” He says, when he sees my slight confusion but I don’t complain. “Now come on, sweetheart.”

AN: I hope you enjoyed reading!

Thank you for reading!

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grugruel · 8 months ago

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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 metaphor 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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