#cooper howard x reader fluff

[periprose]

Sweet as Nuka Cola

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Reader

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

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

Word Count: 11k

“Action!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He says your name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

/

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

/

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just choose to assume it’s entirely friendly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

/

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

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

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

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

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

“Was it good?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He loved being the hero, really.

He lights a cigarette, and takes a puff.

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

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

“Backlash, really?” You whisper. 

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

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

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

And you absolutely are.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

/

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shudder.

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

/

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

Oh fuck. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now he thinks you're just unfinished business. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You flinch, and he stops. 

“Oh, God, my eyes–”

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

You blink, tears rolling down your face. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

/

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

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

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

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

No wonder he enjoys his casket time.

/

Coop sighs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No way is he letting easy money pass by him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re angry at the state of the world. 

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

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

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

Coop is actually drawn to silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright.” You whisper.

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

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

/

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bullshit.”

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

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

“Nah. I’m not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grasp his arm back, making him quiet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[your-averagewriter]

"Only for you, darlin'"

Summary: Cooper heads into town in search for some RadAway for you when he stumbles upon a cute gift (Cooper Howard x fem!reader).

Word count: 1.0K

Warnings: needles, kissing (slightly ig)

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-

Stalking through the desert, he heads towards the town in search of some RadAway for you, the radiation reaching too high of a level for Cooper to be comfortable with, especially in his presence.

His boots echo through the makeshift tunnel made of old tubing before sunlight peaks out of the other end, exposing the market on the other side, countless signs decorating the stalls. He pulls his hat down slightly in order to cover his irradiated face more, less because some people find it unsettling and more so people don’t recognise he’s a ghoul.

He walks along the stalls, searching for any RadAway and some other supplies that need topping up. 

Signs stick out to him yet none offer what he needs until he reaches a store with various niche medical supplies as well as bandages and the like. Walking up to the store, he looks over the small bottles and pills decorating the side but doesn't see anything Stimpaks or RadAway.

“Ay,” He gets the attention of the store owner. “You got any RadAway?” He asks, looking up at the man covered in shredded clothes. He shakes his head before looking down at what looks like an old graphic novel. “You sure? I got plenty of caps.”

“How many?” He asks, accent showing he’s not from around here.

“Plenty.” He reinterrates, shaking his bag causing the rattling of the caps and the man puts the graphic novel down, heading further into the shop before returning with a pouch of liquid with a strip of duct tape on, scraggly writing on it.

“I keep it in the back, people nick this stuff the most. 50 caps.” 

Cooper scoffs. “50?” He asks, confusion mixed with annoyance in his voice. “30.”

“45.” He counters. “And I’ll throw in a Stimpak.”

“Fine” Cooper counters and the seller sighs before pushing it towards him whilst Copper pushes the caps on the side. “And you got the good deal there, you should feel lucky I’m willing to pay for this.” He snatches it from the side, rolling his eyes before moving on to finding other items but glad he’s got what he came for.

Strolling through the town, he looks in the store windows, something catching his eye in a junk store. He pushes open the door, a bell ringing making him wonder if it’s a trap but why would there be a trap when someone is trying to sell junk?

“Hey darlin’, feel free to take a look around.” An old woman says, crazy hair covering most of her face making him feel uneasy that he can barely see her eyes. He nods before heading towards the window display, boots hitting the wooden planks underfoot noisily as they creak.

A toy rabbit sits in the window, no more than a foot tall with fluffy ears and a cute nose. He swipes at it, examining it and dusting it off before looking for some sort of price label.

“How much for this?” He turns to face the woman who pushes her glasses up, scrunching her nose as she squints at the item.

“8 caps, but for you 4. Who’s this for?” He pulls out another five caps and drops them on the table before carefully putting the bunny in his bag, making sure it’s tucked in and the clasp is shut properly. He pulls on the latch, checking its security. Secure. 

“My girl, she loves bunnies. Thanks.” He grumbles, walking out the store and off to the base again.

He walks back through the desert, kicking the sand as he goes, mumbling to himself and even whistling slightly. He lifts his hand to keep the sun out of his face as the base appears in his field of vision. Base is a strong word for a couple of broken down buildings just by the trees that are more secure than you would think. It provides cover and hides flames when it gets cold.

He can’t help the edges of his lips quirking up at the sight of the base and his girl.

Under an hour later, he returns to the base, stepping through the ‘door’. “Sweetheart?” He yells through the base.

“Cooper, that you?” You ask, sweet voice ringing through the walls.

“‘Course it’s me.” He grins to himself, following your voice.

“I don’t know why you wouldn’t let me come with you.” You say before being interrupted by a cough. After moments of coughing, Cooper rubs your back and once you start speaking, he reaches into his bag.

“Did you get a Stim-” You start but he passes it to you with a brief kiss to the cheek. “Thanks.” You smile before looking down at the Stimpak wrapped in a cloth. Taking it out, your eyes are immediately on the needle, you take a pause and deep breath before injecting it into your thigh.

Letting out a breath, you drop the used Stimpak and look back to Cooper who wears a smirk, holding back a laugh.

“What are you laughing about?” You cock an eyebrow.

“You ain’t scared of no mutants, no raiders, nothing but needles.” He chuckles, his accent prominent. “It’s cute.” He says before remembering the bunny toy in his bag. “I got you something in town.” He says, rootling through his bag.

“More RadAway?” You ask, knowing his paranoia about you getting too much radiation when being around him. 

“Yeah, but I got you something else too.” He pulls the bunny out of his bag. “Now I know it ain’t much, but I saw it and thought you’d like it…” He presents the bunny, quickly brushing off some of the sand from the journey.

“Aww.” You can help but coo at the cute bunny, taking it off of him and holding it gently, picking up one of the ears and letting it flop back down. “You didn’t spend too much on it, did you?” You look back over to him.

“Y’know it’s rude to ask about someone’s finances, sweetheart.” He teases. “Besides, the lady gave it to me for cheap, probably knew I was getting it for my girl.”

“Probably knew you were a softie.” You tease.

“Only for you, darlin’.” He picks up your hand and leans down, kissing it playfully.

-

AN: I can't believe I haven't posted anything for over three months… sorry I've had exams and extra and it's just been stressful so hopefully I can get a bit more on track.

I hope you enjoyed reading!

[persefolli]

𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐚 𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞

𝐃𝐮𝐡! 𝐑𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐂𝐨𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝/𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐮𝐢𝐜��𝐝𝐞

"𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫."

Cooper adjusted his hat and walked among the sandy terrain of what used to be shady sands. He hated this place, hated how dead it was, hated the fact he remembered what it once was.

He dragged his feet along the rocks until he came to a stop in the shade. He looked up and saw the still-standing billboard for Nuka-Cola. Your face was plastered on it, a bright smile holding a bottle of America’s favorite soda. Cooper walked to an old car wreckage and sat against it, staring up at your face with his mouth hanging open. This was the only piece of the past that helped him to never forget your face. That's why as much as he hated it, he never wanted to leave Shady Sands.

“Cooper!” You squealed, running into the apartment with a paper in your hands. You dropped your boots and purse and ran up to him. “I got it! I got the part! I'm gonna be a Cola Girl!”

Cooper took the paper from your hands and scanned the contract, along with the details of the photo shoot. “A cowgirl theme hm? Wanna dig in my closet.”

“Uh. YES!” You exclaimed.

That was his hat you were wearing on the billboard. The same hat he had on his head now.

You came from the closet, holding up the pants that jingled with every movement.

“You need a belt baby.”

“I couldn’t find one!”

Cooper chuckled and went to the other side of the closet and kneeled to wrap the belt around your waist and secure the pants against your waist.

“Don’t I make a good cowgirl?” You said in a false southern accent. Cooper smiled as you approached him. You made guns out of your fingers and pulled the hat down. “There's an old Mexican Eulogy…” You recited one of his most famous lines. Cooper picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he walked the two of you to the living room couch. “Feo, Fuerte y Formal.” The two of you said in unison as he sat.

Cooper wheezed and took a large gulp of radiated water as he stared up at you. That smile was genuine, he would know.

“Big smile. Big smile. We want those beautiful white teeth up on our screens.” The photographer encouraged you.

You moved a lot, giving them multiple poses to choose from.

Cooper stood behind the camera, smiling as he saw you in a signature western outfit, posing for the upcoming Nuka-Cola campaign.

“Now take a refreshing drink.”

You cracked open the cola bottle and raised it to drink it, but you miscalculated and the cool soda fell on your chest instead of in your mouth. “Oh shit!” You exclaimed, and multiple people came to help you dab the excess liquid off.

“I’ll go change! Take 30?” You said looking at the crew who agreed.

You groaned and headed to your dressing room with Cooper on your heels. As soon as the two of you got inside he grabbed you by the waist, causing you to squeal. The two of you crash landed into the couch, kissing passionately. His hands grabbed at your breasts and you moaned into his lips. “I’ll help you clean up.” He said while licking your neck, tasting the sticky substance of soda on your neck.

You moaned softly as he kissed his way down, unbuttoning the top buttons of your blouse and placing kisses on the outline of your bra.

Cooper felt sick staring at your chest on the billboard. Sick. But he missed you dearly. He missed your touch. He had the real thing, and lost it all. He felt tears threatening his eyes and held his breath, constricting his air on purpose. Your image became blurry and he let out a yell. He huffed and hissed, pulling out his gun quickly and holding it to his head. He could be with you, after 200 years he could feel your love again.

He panted and stared at the billboard before dropping the gun. He wouldn't do that, not in front of you . He couldn’t traumatize you, that's not what he wanted. That's not what you would want.

Cooper guzzled down another large amount of radiated water, not caring that it was spilling out of his mouth and everywhere else. He just sat and stared at his girl.

𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐌

[spooky-scary-scarecrow]

"You have beautiful eyes."

(So, I've been skimming Tumblr and haven't found any goddamn Cooper Howard fics that involve how pretty his damn eyes are. Only a handful of people actually mentioned it - babyghoul still has his luscious eyelashes. So since nobody has written a fic of it, I put it in my hands >:] Enjoy!)

Warnings: Mild nudity, mentions of after-sex, cuddling, complimenting, tooth-rotting fluff, a teeny of lore-building in the first few paragraphs

It was a quiet evening, the both of you laying on an old mattress you had found that was surprisingly intact enough to not have a spring digging into your back. The night was elongated from the actions that happened merely moments ago, labored breath between the both of you still filling your ears.

Turning to face Cooper, your eyes roamed his scarred body. A lean frame with muscle, not too much yet not too little. Just enough to show off how strong he can be. You both met only months ago. It was supposed to be just him killing a bounty for you and you'd pay him in caps and viles. Though after the next few bounties, you grew on him and decided to tag along with his journeys. It was like the longer you were both exposed to each other, the more you fell. Ending up in this situation many times before. Quick, easy, just to relieve stress.

Until now. You took the time to observe him. Observe his scars and muscles and callouses as he laid on his back, arms behind his head as his eyes were closed for the moment. You let your gaze drift up to his face - the normally hardened expression softening.

"I can feel you starin'," he spoke after a moment, making your cheeks flush red as you look away.

"Sorry, I just never seen you so... relaxed," you mumbled sheepishly with a chuckle.

A soft hum left him, his arm wrapping around your shoulder and pulling you in without warning. This was rare, the physical touch. Affectionate. Slowly, you rest your head on his chest, hearing the faint beat of his rotten heart and the rasp of his lungs as he breathed.

A moment passed before you looked back up at him, capturing his gaze with your own. Suddenly, you noticed something you never noticed.

His eyes. You never studied them because of how much movement he made - or there just wasn't any time. You would have thought that his lashes would have been gone along with his other body hair but no. They were still there. Rather thick and long. Framing the hazel orbs of his. Making them stand out.

They seemed almost a rich, deep gold and green at the moment because of the lighting - only the dim flame of the oil lamp on the ground beside the mattress lighting the area.

They were beautiful.

"I never noticed your eyes," you blurted, your gaze lingering on his. You could just see the shift of emotion in them - they were so expressive. More expressive than you expected. It showed he was still a man - still human - even if he did turn into the being he is now.

"Is that a compliment, darlin'?" he mused, raising a hairless brow.

You pondered. Maybe it was. Maybe you should say the things about them that were stuffed in the back of your brain.

"Yes," you answered after a beat. "I'd say more about them if I could put it into words."

He was the one to break the eye-contact, leaning his head back. You didn't speak again, afraid you might have hit a soft spot in the man. But you could see the corners of his lips twitch, his roughened fingertips tracing imaginary shapes on your bicep as he gazed up at the ceiling, through the holes in the roof.

"I never paid attention," you continued with little hesitancy. "Of your eyes, I mean. I always thought all Ghouls had fully black eyes."

A grunt in response. You can take that. The silence fell between the both of you once more. With a heavy exhale, he pulled you closer until your body pressed firmly into his side. A subtle gesture. A silent thank you.

Maybe you should pay attention to him more often.

Thank you for reading! Give me a message if you want to request any prompts for our cowboy ghoul here :D

[zvdvdlvr]

Worth the Sight of You

☢️ — synopsis. You and Cooper reunite after three years. (gn reader)

Cooper stood outside the little cabin door and shifted his weight from foot to foot anxiously. It had been at least three years since he’d last showed up at your door and really hoped the offer you’d given him was still available.

“Didn’t know raiders knocked anymore,” Lucy heard a voice muse from inside the cabin. “What do you want?”

“Christ,” Cooper cursed, resting his head against the door. “It’s me, woman.”

The door swung open fast. Lucy fought the urge to laugh at the way the Ghoul flew backwarf comically fast. She had to look down to keep her smile from showing when his ass met the ground with a small grunt.

A shotgun (what is with these people and their shotguns, Lucy thought) pointed into Cooper’s face brought him to the present. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Cooper sighed and laid back on his arms. He knew you weren’t swayed by his reputation so he didn’t even bother reminding you about his lightning fast draw speed. Well, that and he cared about you. Not that he’d ever admit that out loud; but his care was displayed through interactions. Interactions from years ago he tried not to think about anymore because he knew it’d be a hell of a lot harder to keep getting up every day if he knew there was still a possibility you could still be waiting for him. “I… I need some help. We need help.”

You finally noticed Lucy. The blue-wearing woman smiled at you and waved. “Hi!”

You nodded back to her, softening slightly at the sight of her bright eyes. “She ain’t been out here more than a week. What the fuck are you doing with her?”

Cooper shrugged helplessly. “Don’t make me beg, y/n.”

The shotgun never wavered as you scoffed. “Begging might do you some good, cowboy. It keeps us humble out here,” you said harshly. “Come inside, girl.”

Lucy obeyed, taking in your collected appearance. You showed her the bathroom and offered her a pair of clothes that seemed to fit her.

It didn’t take Lucy but ten minutes to be in and out of the shower. The impressive lather of your hommade soap made Lucy feel like a new woman and the clothes fit wonderfully.

She stepped out and heard a loud slap. Lucy found you squaring up to the ghoul, waiting from him to stop being dramatic over the slap to the face.

“I hate you, cowpoke,” you muttered before grasping his face and pressing your lips to his. Lucy felt like an intruder as she watched you tilt your head and pant, resting your forhead on the material of his jacket. “Tea on the stove and cups are on the counter. Pour me some,” you called to Lucy without moving.

The Ghoul’s eyes shot up in a glare. He felt your arms wrap around his waist. When Lucy scurried off to pour the liquid, Cooper returned your embrace. The stinging on his cheek was worth the sight of you. 

[ladybirdswritings]

Pretty Thing - Cooper Howard (Ghoul) x Reader

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

Notes: Steamy / flirty filler chapter while I gather my thoughts lol (feel free to leave me lots of comments and interactions, they motivate me!!)

last chap | A03 | masterlist

part 5

Fluorescent bulbs hissed in revelation of their age, blanketing upon your face so to provoke you from your slumber. The sound of their buzz alongside slurping made you startle. You shot to your feet immediately, swaying when your gaze darkened as consequence of your haste.

“Woah now, pretty thang— don’t shoot. If you want some cherry tomatas’— you only gotta ask.”

He hadn’t faded into your vision yet, but that voice was uniquely his own. It brought a scowl to your features. Your sharp eyes shifted to find the mangled Ghoul seated with knees spread, colors returning to their natural state. Dogmeat rested her abnormally large head upon his thigh as her owner munched upon a handful of plump vegetables, spitting their seeds at the floor.

Your gaze wandered to his hand, and an ache licked at the back of your neck. Disoriented as you had become in recent days, you remembered it well. What he did to you.

He tried to drown you.

Your gaze narrowed, hands free from their bounds. They clenched into balled fists, heating with your frustrations. The Ghoul watched on, observant. Silent at first, but soon he pressed his tongue to his cheek and offered a dry huff of a laugh.

“Y’know, I realized somethin’ back at that lake. Somethin’ real special bout’ you. Those fancy powers o’ yours only seem to work in your favor when you s’ scared shitless. So go on then, ball those fists and squint those pretty eyes at me much as you’d like… I ain’t scared of you…”

It was as if you stood transparent before him, entirely crafted of glass to be looked straight through. He wore a smug, satisfied expression proud.

A deep rumble irked at your very core, eating away at you like sugar ants to abundant, oozing honeycomb. You were starved. The meals your keepers awarded you were feasts for vermin and insect. Not human. Not… whatever you were.

There was no avoiding your eyes falling to the ripe vegetables clutched in his gloved palm. The place where his brows should dwell, it jumped in mock curiosity. He curled his fingers away from his snack, as if to beckon you toward him to grab some.

That same palm— it was the exact damned weapon which suffocated you under the lake. So? You stayed put. Still as a stone statue in a twister. The Ghoul tilted his head at the sight of you.

“Oh c’mon now sweetie, don’t be like that… I ain’t feral enough to bite you just yet…”

His voice was lighter now, teasing, but your gaze found itself preoccupied on the unfamiliar and rather comfortable surroundings you now dwelled within. You were no longer at the surface, and if you were? It looked far different from the dunes you braved alongside him.

When you turned your head to ask your captor just exactly where you were, you startled. He towered right before you with his glove outstretched and wide-brimmed hat casting a shadow upon your face, shielding you from the buzzing fluorescents.

You gulped, eyes darting in aversion to just about any other object in sight. Once again, it wasn’t allowed. That palm, the same palm which kept you from surfacing in the water, it raised and flicked a finger free to hook under your chin. He tugged at you like a captured minnow on his rod so your gaze could not avoid him.

He only admired his newfound prey, scanning hazel globes amongst your face as he gathered his next words.

“Hungry?” The mangled beast softly asked, and just the idea of the treats bursting upon your tongue made your stomach jump. Your gaze fell to his other palm again, a generous handful of cherry tomatoes lay waiting. Tempting.

Daring you.

Yet you’d learned him, now. In your day prior.

“What then? You’ll snatch them away and spit the seeds at me when I reach for one?” You forced, voice soft as his own but far sharper. Far more laced with frustration, anger.

His lips curled into an awful, mangled grin.

“Oh s’ that what you think? Let’s see then…”

He treated you as though you were nothing more than a lightning bug trapped in his spit-shined jar. Shaking you, poking and prodding at you till your flames ignited and you glowed for him.

Mischief was sewn in his hazels as he plucked a tomato from his grasp and dangled it by its stem before his admiring eyes. “These are my favorite…” he murmured whilst examining it for a long moment, then that cold gaze shifted to you.

“Open.” He commanded.

You did not. Least, not immediately. Stubborn, cautious you only glared up at him with lips pursed unnaturally tight. Oh he found it amusing, simply because he knew very well that he’d break you.

“S’ hard to say no to food when you’ve eaten table scraps in a cage your whole life, ain’t it? Go on now, take a bite.”

Much as you wished you didn’t need to take a bite for sake of your own pride— your stomach complained again. Louder. His eyes sluggishly shifted down to the place of protest, that starved belly of yours. They then raked back up to your dull lookers.

“What’s it gon’ be?”

Perhaps he was so adamant for you to eat because he stuffed poison in between the seeds, perhaps it was because he needed you alive so to continue inflicting his torture. A shaky breath burned at all of your resolve, however, and your petal pink lips parted.

Soon as the candy-sweet globe grazed your eager tongue, you nearly moaned. He held onto the stem with pinched fingers so you wouldn’t choke upon it by fault of your eagerness, eyes widening as it bursted honeyed flavor upon your tastebuds.

You were far too engrossed in the flavor, in savoring it to notice the Ghoul’s dark hazels and how they hadn’t left your mouth once.

“There you go…” he spoke to you with a gentleness that contradicted his very existence. His little lightning bug in a glass jar, moving away the stray hair falling against your lips as you chewed.

“See, I ain’t all bad— smoothie. Least, when I get what I want.”

You ignored him, swallowing the seeds and skin of the treat so to fulfill your hunger. Yet a singular tomato left you far from satisfied. Your orbs settled back on the remaining cluster in his hand. He smiled thinly, yet it never seemed to reach his hazel eyes.

He raised his palm and brow bone again, as if to silently say “have at it.” You knew well enough now that he had a knack for playing with you. Like a deranged child to a most unfortunate doll. Yet as demeaning as eating like a mutt from his gloved palm seemed? The first cherry tomato took your tongue hostage and only left it craving for more.

You were shameless, entirely ignorant of caution or poise as you inhaled the remaining ton. He whistled at the sight, bringing his free hand to the crown of your matted locks so to brush against them as you devoured the delectable snack.

“Atta’ girl, there you go…” the Ghoul praised.

When you were done, wincing as you munched on the many seeds tangled in your teeth, you licked the sweet juice from your lips and created distance from the creature; half expecting to collapse from the inevitable poison. You didn’t so much as sway.

He regarded you in silence, hazels hawk-like in their motions, trailing each tilt and bend of your head as you absorbed your unfamiliar surroundings. The tomatoes had momentarily satisfied your hunger, yet the starvation of your curiosity was far greater. You dared a glance toward him again, only to see him sucking away at the juice and saliva staining his raven glove. Your saliva.

When he finished up, he sighed.

“Vault. N’ abandoned one in bum-fuck middle o’ nowhere. S’ a good thing— you n’ I both deserve a scorchin’ hot shower. Just down the hall to the left; but don’t take too long now, sweetie, cause I won’t hesitate to join you so I can soak up that hot water before s’ wasted…”

You felt as though you were nothing more than a fried computer, circuits bathed in saltwater enough to make them burst and fizzle. You only blinked at him, his final words tinging the apples of your cheeks a pretty pink. With no further words spoken, you turned on your heel and begun to make your way there.

You found it soon enough, robotic and zombie-like as slithered inside. Free, in privacy. It was a marvel. Even so, the mere sight of you startled your core and its branches.

Who was beyond the glass?

You didn’t remember much, only, a deep part of your soul was most certain that this could not be you. It simply couldn’t.

Coffee colored staining under your dull eyes, hair frayed and stringy, skin pallid and sickly looking. Like a true undead creature, worse off than the Ghoul.

Pretty thing.

You scoffed.

The bones protruding from your hands shook as you explored the contents of the wicker cabinet, gathering all the things you somehow knew about but could not remember how.

You knew how to brush your hair, how to sparkle your teeth and rinse off your skin. Yet? You could not remember the last time you did any of those pleasant things. Not without guidance from your keepers, at least.

You made quick work of them though, taming the bird’s nest with frustrated and clenched teeth, brushing those same teeth till they were pearly and no longer dull. When you were satisfied, you peeled the tattered gown from your skin and stared at the bare reflection before you.

Bruises and scars peppered your perfect skin. Your ribs poked at the place where healthy meat should be…

Why did they do this to you?

You blinked away the saltwater in your eyes, averting your gaze immediately and stepping into the shower instead. Scorching water blanketed your skin, soothing away the goosebumps brought upon by chill. You moaned at the sensation. Like a firm hug, wiping away all the dirt and grime of the surface wasteland.

The shampoo smelled of peonies, the soap like freshly plucked herbs and you were most generous with both of them; lathering them to suds upon your grayed skin. You wished to remain there forever, but you knew well that the Ghoul was not jesting with his threats.

Soon as you pried yourself from the steam, you rummaged around the cabinet some more and plucked out the bottles and jars that looked most interesting to you. A blonde man with a mile-wide smile was plastered on each one, paint chipped with age. You gazed on at the man for a moment, running a thumb along his perfectly straight teeth. He looked… familiar to you.

There was no time to waste, though, so you went about squirting a generous dollop of “radiation free gulper mucin face wash” into your palm. It stuck to your fingers, but lathered nicely upon your cheeks. You followed with a mysterious looking jar of white cream that had no promised label, it sunk nicely into your skin. You admired the way it glistened when you were done.

In the cabinet below the sink lay a folded towel atop fresh clothing, cobwebs stuck to the fabric which you simply brushed off. A white tank top and pants so long you’d most certainly stumble upon them as you walked. You donned them and rolled up the cuffs.

The mirror approved of you now, you looked far more human. Your eyes still dull but, somehow more— recognizable. You gazed on at yourself, a headache stirring as you attempted to remember your features more clearly. It only lasted a moment, however, the door bursted open an inhale later.

There he stood, as promised, keen to soak in the scorching water. Your head snapped to him, and he only stepped behind you, regarding your cautious gaze in the mirror.

“Well look at you now, pretty thing. All nice n’ squeaky. Bet you feel betta’, huh?”

His voice was deeper then, as if an unspoken layer was laced between his words. That awful face tilted its head at you, and your palms gripped at the countertop even tighter.

The mangled man pressed pink tongue to cheek and displayed a mischievous grin as he closed the distance parting you with a singular step forward. You were frozen in place as a different kind of warmth engulfed your underfed temple. It lasted a second too short as he only removed his brimmed hat and placed it on the countertop. He stepped back again, squinting softly at your wide eyes in the mirror whilst slowly taking off his coat.

“Now I don’t mind you stayin’ for the show, sweetie. Just didn’t peg you as the type.”

His words snapped you from the trance your reflection stuck upon you, and you immediately cleared your throat as you turned from him.

“Excuse me.” You whispered in haste, bursting through the door and easing your rapid heart by collapsing on the navy loveseat in the kitchen— plagued with thoughts of an irradiated Ghoul and his warmth pressed against you…

[olsenmyolsen]

Fallout

master list

dark master list

Fallout/Marvel AU (Gender Neutral Reader X Wanda Maximoff)

Summary: You and your wife, Wanda Maximoff, are finally living your dream life in WestView. It was perfect until the bombs fell.

Word Count: 1.3K

Content: Fallout TV Show and Video Game references. Not a happy ending. I wrote this in like one hour.

Yakety Yak played from the tiny radio resting on the end table next to the couch as Wanda Maximoff, dressed in a red A-line skirt and Oxford shirt, reading through a lifestyle magazine her neighbor Agnes had lent her.

"Wow, is the death rate of single men really that high?" Wanda quietly questioned to herself before you came in through the front door. Sweating and out of breath.

"Gosh, it's a scorcher out there!" You said as you huffed and puffed in the middle of the entryway to the house. Wanda smiled at your voice and rose. "Let me grab you some water, dear." You smiled as she whizzed by you. Her perfume and infectious personality making you feel hotter all over.

"Honey?" Wanda pulled you from your thoughts as she handed you a tall glass of water. You accepted it and chugged the whole thing before handing it back to Wanda, who only took a single kiss as a form of payment.

"So I take it the lawn is done?" Wanda asked as she came back from the kitchen. You nodded. "It's perfect. Way better than Norm's." You smiled with a goofy grin while Wanda shook her head and chuckled at your stupid rivalry. "I'm sure it is." Wanda stepped behind you and started to push you to the back room. Where your bedroom was. "Now, why don't you take a shower so that way when I kiss you again, I'm not worried about getting a grass stain!"

Wanda was proud of her joke and let the inviable audience loudly laugh at that one. You playfully rolled your eyes and accepted it, but not before reaching out and grabbing your wife's hand.

"You know a shower is only fun if I have help?" You made your eyebrows bounce. Wanda smirked. "Really? You managed yesterday without help, so I think you'll be just fine." She scrunched her nose and began moving you once again. You went to reply, but the doorbell interrupted you. "Shower!" Wanda pointed back with a smile and laughed at your pouty face. But yet you retreated and went to take a shower as Wanda answered the door to a man dressed like a salesperson.

"Hello is this the Maximoff residents?" Wanda clasped her hands over themselves in front of her. "Yes, it is." The man was holding a clipboard and looked at it as he began marking some stuff off. "Okay, great! And there are two of you, correct?" Wanda nodded as she looked over the man.

Who was he?

"I'm sorry, but who are you? Who are you with?" Wanda asked as the man lifted his eyes to her with a smile. "Oh, I'm sorry. Please forgive me." He stuck his hand out. Wanda took it gingerly. "My name is Steve Rogers and I'm here with an opportunity for the future!"

The man was a mix of nervousness and overzealous.

"The future?" Wanda questioned as she looked the man over. Steve cleared his throat before speaking up. "Why yes, Ma'am. You see, Vault-Tec is the foremost builder of state-of-the-art underground Fallout shelters."

Wanda tilted her head with her eyebrows scrunched. She had heard of Vault-Tec, but why was a salesperson at her door? "Vaults?"

Like safes? Wanda wondered.

Steve nodded. "Yes Vaults! Luxury accommodations for you and..." He looked down at his clipboard. "Y/n Maximoff to wait out the horrors of nuclear devastation." Wanda's eyes went wide. "I'm sorry!?"

Steve kept going.

"If you haven't noticed, Ma'am, excuse my language, but this country has gone to heck in a handbasket. Now more than ever, people need to be prepared. The big kaboom is inevitable. Sooner than you may think. If you catch my drift." He said the last part softer and quieter. But he said it with a smile.

Wanda took a step back.

Steve noticed. "Now, now, I know you're a busy woman, so I won't take too much more of your precious remaining time. I'm here to tell you that you and your partner have been selected and pre-approved for our own local Vault. Vault 89!"

Wanda seemed a little surprised but nodded and smiled. She didn't like the feeling that was turning in her.

"Wow, well, thank you!" Wanda politely said while Steve nodded and tipped his hat to Wanda. "Thank you for trusting Vault-Tec with your future!" He turned on his heels and walked with a purpose off the front porch. Wanda watched as the man admired the lawn before hopping into his car.

As Wanda locked the front door, you were leaving the main bedroom. All dressed and clean. "Who was it?" You asked, startling your wife. You looked at her wide-eyed as she shrieked and composed herself before laughing. "Sorry." She said before fast walking to you and wrapping her arms around your body. Your clean smell invading her nose, making her feel better.

"No need to apologize." You replied as you held Wanda. The two of you softly swaying in the middle of the living room. "Are you going to tell me who it was, or do I have to guess?" You kissed the top of Wanda's head. "It was Vault-Tec." She said with her Sokovian accent slipping after she turned her head to face you.

"Vault-Tec? The company Cooper Howard promotes?" Wanda nods to your confused face. "Promoted. But yes. We've been selected for a Vault. Vault 89." Wanda said as she was reading your eyes. "Now, why in the hell were we selected?" You questioned, only to earn a shrug from Wanda. "Maybe only the house with the best lawn gets in," Wanda said as she couldn't hide her bright smile.

"Oh, you think you're funny?" You asked, looking into your wifes green eyes. She nodded. "I saw him admiring all your hard work before he left." She squeezed and poked your arms as she said it.

You laughed and untangled yourself from Wanda as you brought the two of you to the couch. "Well, I guess that means the Vault will be free of Norm." Wanda threw her head back and slapped your arm at your comment. "Honey!"

You chuckled before flipping on the TV. A weatherman was complaining about how hot the rest of the summer would be for WestView before a producers ran on screen and the broadcast suddenly cut. A singular tone and a screen that read Please Stand By followed.

Wanda's smile faded fast, as did yours.

It can't be.

"No, no, no," Wanda whispered as her voice broke and quivered. You immediately rose and went to the window. You didn't see anything through the shudders until it was all white.

What followed was smoke and fire.

The glass broke and sent debris flying above you as you protected Wanda.

"But this is our home!" Wanda screamed as you tried lifting her.

It was real. It was happening. Fallout was coming.

Wanda thrashed about in your arms as she didn't want to leave the house you and her worked so hard for. She has the deed that you bought hanging above her bedside table. Pictures of family scattered around the house. Your music collection and hidden snacks would be forgotten to time. You didn't want to leave either. But you needed to survive. You couldn't do this without Wanda.

"Wanda, please let's go!" You yelled as the noise outside was growing louder and more chaotic. But only one thought processes through your wifes head as Wanda escaped from your hold and runs into the bedroom. Returning out of it moments later with one thing in her hand.

With tears running down her face, she opens your hand and placed it down. "Wanda..." You flip the plastic stick over before the air left your throat. "You're..." Wanda nodded and cried harder.

She was pregnant.

Tears fell onto the carpet below your feet as you brought yourself closer and kissed Wanda.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

You did everything you could to get Wanda to the Vault that day. Through crowds of panicked people. Through the incompetent security of Vault-Tec. Through the white flash of another bomb being dropped.

The two of you made it.

But that same day was the last time you saw Wanda before she was separated from you at the Vault checkpoint.

You don't remember anything after that until today.

Time passed. She's not here anymore.

So, as the doors open and the sun blinds as you stand dressed in blue and yellow, you're prepared to find Wanda and your children. Whatever it takes.

You're prepared for Fallout.

dividers by @/benkeibear

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Forever｡⋆.

The Ghoul x plus size reader

So, when I hold her close I might loosen my grip, but I won't ever let her go

Warnings: very loosely implied cannibalism, fluff, no use of Y/N

WC: 481

Stick Season (We'll All Be Here Forever)

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

The Wasteland was beautiful in a way, she thought. The vast emptiness that unfolded in front of her from her perch in an abandoned highrise was what she imagined the pre-war ocean to look like; waves of yellow and orange, reflecting the setting sun. 

“Eat.” The rasp of her companion pulled her gaze from the haze of night quickly settling over them. She looked upon the embers of the now extinguished fire where her dinner sat, warming. She did not know where the cut of meat had come from, nor did she care to find out. But the rumble of her stomach was all the motivation she needed to reach out and carefully lift the charred slab from where it rested upon an ancient pan.

The crunch of dirt under his boots was all the warning she received before the sun-worn ghoul took a seat on the bench beside her. A groan passed his lips like a puff of air as he finally laid down his heavy load. “We’ll get to Philly tomorrow, what’s left of it anyway. Stop for supplies.” 

She hummed in agreement as she leaned back against the window sill. “I’m almost outta vials.” It was an almost defeated answer to a question she hadn’t asked. She knew he had been reckless with the last job, pushing himself too far, stretching his stash too thin. But long gone were the days where she would scream at him for being so stupid as he ignored her almost constant warnings. Now she only wiped her right hand off on her dusty pants and fished three small vials from a pocket on her plump thigh.

Without a word, she handed them to him and took another bite of her meal. The leather of his gloves gently caressed her palm as he took the last dregs of humanity he had left. “You always carry these ‘round?”

His voice was far softer than she was used to, sand against sand rather than the grind of stones. She finally looked over at him, just catching the flash of long-dead emotion in his deep brown eyes. “It’s what us cowpoke do, stay prepared.” She winked at him with a small but no-less genuine smile, expecting a snide comment from the old ghoul.

Instead, he took her free hand into his own, their fingers intertwining. She could feel the places where they had been broken and cut, the roughness of his skin that came with the curse of his very existence. His grip on her tightened as he opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.

She simply nodded and turned back to watch as the last ember flickered out as his eyes remained upon her, some long dormant ache in his chest rearing up once more.

And as the sun finally dipped below the horizon, in the darkness, he could smile back at her.

[Verse 1] Let's drive for no reason, let's see where these wheels land Let's grind down the curve of this earth You look fine in the evening and, honey, it's starting to storm When we kissed in the car in the school parking lot Where I'd go with my friends to get drunk Used to wish I meant anything to anywhere, to anyone [Pre-Chorus] When forever was a sentence, sentence to death Oh, when you wеre a running tear, I was a drop of sweat And thе edges of your soul, I haven't seen yet Now I'm glad I get forever to see where you end [Chorus] I won't be alone for the rest of my life I'll build a boat for when the river gets high And I'll meet a girl in the heat of July And I'll tell her so she knows That I'm broke, but I'm real rich in my head That I broke a bone that never healed in my hand So, when I hold her close I might loosen my grip, but I won't ever let her go I won't ever let her go Woo [Verse 2] Remember when we called the cops 'Cause I got too high, and you got scared And the cops just laughed? We can't make rent, so we window-shop In the Upper West Side , oh, my God Could you imagine that? [Chorus] I won't be alone for the rest of my life I'll build a boat for when the river gets high And I'll meet a girl in the heat of July And I'll tell her so she knows That I'm broke, but I'm real rich in my head That I broke a bone that never healed in my hand So, when I hold her close I might loosen my grip, but I won't ever let her go I won't ever let her go [Outro] When forever was a sentence, sentence to death Oh, when you were a running tear, I was a drop of sweat And the edges of your soul, I haven't seen yet Now I'm glad I get forever to see where you end To see where you end

All works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @alexxavicry @ravenwings73 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @silverfire475 @psychadelichues @mvyalx @faefanatic @evansqueen54 @anamiad00msday @th3slothy @princess76179 @Lanielagenev @luvvvjada @Lucypaulette @midnight-shadow-va @mooniequeen @slutfor-fictionalmen @km-ffluv @black-rose-29 @minedofmoria

[imaginedreamwrite]

Damned Together

Part 3: Rust & Ruins

The pack bearing weight on your back was a minor inconvenience when you had taken in the appearance of the wreckage outside the vault. The heavy load bearing down on your shoulders, the edges of the straps cutting into the base of your neck, was minute.

It was nothing compared to the shock that had hit you square in the chest when you had stepped off the metal edge of the vault you’d left. There was nothing short of absolute carnage that had extended from the vault’s door to the nearest ruin. The extension of sun and sand, burning heat that was unkempt from the lack of anything to shield it, was something entirely new to you.

You stood still as you took in the vast expanse of destruction caused by the nukes over 200 years ago. Your eyes had scoped out what it could before you were equally distracted. Your attention was taken by the soft noises coming from the carrier strapped to the front of you.

Ophelia Grace was the only other living soul to escape the attack and fire on the vault. It was an unseemly and irrevocable attack—one that had been completely devastating to the outside world.

You stumbled forward and caught yourself, resting a hand upon baby Ophelia’s head to stabilize her. The weight of this all, of all the devastation had compiled into what you had just witnessed in the vault. Skeletons littered the exterior of the vault, and if there weren’t skeletons, then there were human remains encased in the sand.

In the foreground, you could see decrepit pieces of humankind’s mastery—broken and marred steel caked with thick coats of rust or blasted by sand. There was a gentle hum of something nearby, or maybe it was the vault itself, though you couldn’t focus on that. Instead, you had stepped forward and then again, trying not to step on the bleached bones that littered the ground.

You get a good twenty feet away from the vault door when you take a look down at the baby. Mrs. Coleman had a carrier inside the room, untouched and saved from the fire, made of sturdy cloth. The inside was lined with a pastel peach colour that was reminiscent of the colours in their kitchen.

In the pack that weighed on your back, you’d gotten as many clothes for the baby as you could. You had managed to pack formula for the baby, contained in a few lightweight cans, canisters of fresh water to mix for her.

There had been various baby items that you had wished you could take; however, there was little you could carry. Soothers and clothes, formula and clean water, clothes and the few personal items in the room.

Guilt for taking the woman’s clothes for yourself would have rendered itself in you. But guilt was as fleeting as all of your lives were, and there was no going back. For 23 years, you were given nothing but hospital grade gowns and medical robes to wear. You were given a bare minimum, you had nothing for yourself, and you needed to have something.

Mrs. Coleman had few pieces of clothing outside the blue and yellow jumpsuit—although what she did have was well-made and fit like a glove—however, it was enough. There was something lingering on the back of your mind when you had first taken from her, how odd it was to be wearing a dead woman’s clothes.

“Ophelia Grace,” you spoke her name as she slept against your chest, her long lashes resting against the tops of her cheeks. She was so unaware of what was going on around her. She was innocently sleeping as if she were with her mother the entire time—she would never know what they would try to turn her into.

The prodding and the poking, the feeling of your skin burning itself from the bone, the radioactive exposure, the life behind a sealed vault separated from the rest of the world…that was not what she would experience. Not like you.

 But you two were the sole survivors. And you were now responsible for this baby, this newborn who was less than 2 months old. How were you supposed to care for yourself in a world you had no experience in? And then add to that, taking care of a child?

You had taken two child-rearing books from the Coleman’s room. One was based solely around the first year of a baby’s life, and the other was for early childhood. If you could survive the first few months on the outside, you would be able to learn from them.

If you survived, that was the opportune word…

Your body has been genetically modified to survive in the radiation, much like Ophelia’s was. While she was just a baby, and they had just done the procedure to ensure and survive in the radioactive environment, she hadn’t been exposed to it like you had. There was a due process to being exposed to radiation and monitoring the levels that your body could absorb before you got sick.

You remembered every canister that was thrown through the hole in the ceiling. You remembered every jab of the needles as they took blood and monitored your bone density. Bone marrow sucked from you which had healed over time, a kind of procedure that was just another notch—another dehumanizing way for them to use you like you were a living pharmacy.

She would never have to go through that, she would never have to but put under anesthesia. Even if it was for an hour, or a few, Ophelia Grace Coleman—as she was called on the birth certificate—would never feel that pain.

Part of you was relieved in that, and the other half was debating whether it was truly better to be out here. In the wilds, where you had no way of knowing what was out there, you had no real defensive abilities save for a few knives you’d taken.

Was it more merciful for the two of you to be out here? Or should you have stayed in that broken and charred vault?

The way the sand had shifted beneath your feet made it difficult for you to walk. You stumbled more than once, unaccustomed to the weight at your back and being cautious of the baby on your front.

You had raised a hand, at some point, and shielded your eyes from the sharp tint of the sun. As you scoped out the heat radiating from the sands and the sun, you had found another derelict set of buildings a few miles in the distance.

Like the buildings you had already passed, marred metal and rust has poked through the ground like jarred spines. The buildings, you imagined, would have been hundreds of feet tall. You pondered for a moment if it was the buildings were originally used as offices for the people who had lived in the area before the bombs. Or were the marred metal the foundations of houses for those people.

Regardless, it wouldn’t have matter much now. The damage was done, and you had the good sense to get to cover before dark. Even if you were holed up in one of the abandoned buildings or houses on the outskirts of that settlement ahead of you.

The baby would need to be fed the formula, you would need to eat and recover your energy yourself. The radiation—through the processes of altering your genetic and DNA code—allowed the radiation in the air to be converted into something useful. It was like having iron, vitamin b12, vitamin C or vitamin D, it gave you a certain amount of energy.

Yet, that conversion didn’t replace sleep and restfulness, and you would need both for the following day.

“We’re in this together, you know?” After a long-winded silence, you started talking to her. The baby in the carrier you’d taken from the vault was still sleeping, occasionally she would make noises or shift slightly.

You had questions whether her being close to your chest allowed her to sleep easier—with your heartbeat acting like a white noise machine for her.

“I don’t know how to take care of a baby, I don’t know what I’m doing.” Your breath came out ragged, your body weary and tired from the continuous trek from the vault.

You truly were at a loss here, in this vast wasteland. You had known less than anyone else in your vault, and if it hadn’t been for the books they’d given you to mentally stimulate yourself, you would have been as clueless as the baby was.

Regardless of your isolation from the rest of them, you could read and write, you had a complete education despite being alone. And there was little to educationally separate you from the rest of the population of the vault.

“I’m talking to you like you can respond,” you groan and moved the pack and the straps on your shoulders, attempting to shift the weight to a slightly different position, “you won’t speak for…well, I really don’t know how long.”

Your pause and your break had only lasted so long, and then you had to continue. Your feet worked against you, almost seemingly becoming encased in concrete despite the urgency to move. You clenched your teeth and grimaced when you felt gritty sand in your mouth. You would’ve wanted to spit, to try to get the small flecks out of your mouth with water—instead you pressed on.

You were less than a half mile toward the outskirts of the ruined city when the familiar shrieking cry started. You lowered your gaze to the carried the baby was in and glanced at her with furrowed brows. Her face was scrunched, and her eyes had become screwed closed, while her lips were parted in her startling cry. You stood frozen as you stared down at her, wondering if this kind of cry was a hunger cry or if she needed a change.

“Shh, shh….” Unrelentingly you had tried to quiet her down, to no avail. You couldn’t have stopped here and taken care of her, not in the sand and the sun, not out in the open.

You tried again to quiet her, once more failing before the sound of something chittering behind you had gardened your attention. You took a languid look over your shoulder, spying the deformed looking roach-like creature scurrying on the ground toward you.

Fear replaced the attempt to quiet Ophelia down, and you had to rest a hand on the back of her head, holding her against your chest. Adrenaline had pumped through your veins as you started running for the decrepit city. The urgency to find shelter was a pressing manner, especially since the cockroach creatures had doubled in numbers.

“Shh, shh, it's okay…” Panic was evident in your voice, and your heart was racing wildly. Ophelia was screaming and screeching, unbeknown to the things following you.

It was hunger or the need for a change that fuelled her; it was fear that fuelled you.

You stepped over the threshold of the ruined city and found the first viable shelter. You jolted yourself up the warped and splintered wood staircase, carrying the heavy load. As you looked out at the window that only had shredded glass still ensconced in the frame, you saw the roaches leaving.

They were in pursuit of something else to chase and devour, something apart from you to eat. You recoiled from the window and first dumped the pack off your shoulders. You winced and raised a hand to rub the sides of your neck where the straps dug in. Your fingers massaged the skin before your attention shifted to the baby.

“Are you hungry? Or do you need a change?” You dug through the pack for a changing blanket and unfolded it on the floor. You were careful not to set her on anything that could be sharp, and then you slowly undid her from the carrier.

“Shh, shh…” you quieted her, or tried to, and slowly undid the protective jumper she was wearing. Your fingertips were shaky but as you had undone the zipper you pulled it down to her hips and then her thighs.

Your hand shot out to rummage through the pack, finding a diaper. You didn’t know what you were doing, but there was little trial and error involved. You followed the basic design of the diaper and got her changed and redressed.

“You’re hungry, I know…” you whispered to her, briefly glancing at the setting sun before you cast your eyes upon her once more. “… I’m going to get your formula.”

Mrs. Coleman had a few bottles for her that were already filled with milk and formula that you had taken. Of the 4 she had, you had given Ophelia 2 and a half. You had grabbed the half bottle still available and lifted her into your arms. You cradled her delicate head in the crook of your arms and brushed the nipple of the bottle against her bottom lip.

Your eyes grew heavy as you fed her, listening to her suckle and ingest the formula like she was starving. Closing your eyes and exhaling, you leaned your head back against the wooden wall and let your shoulders droop.

You were exhausted. You were stuck in a strange position between wanting to grieve for the people of the vault you belonged to—despite never being able to be in the general populace—and letting it roll off you like water off a duck’s back.   Your exhaustion bleeds into sleep, and sleep finds you quick.

You don’t wake until you hear the cry of Ophelia again. You shot away and sat up, eyes widening and your heart stopping as you looked at her.

Panic was overwhelming, it had hit you with an unseemly force. Your breathing rate had increased to a rapid speed, as you tried to suck in air as quickly as you could. It had felt like you were being choked, like someone had a hand around your throat and the pressure was increasing.

Her wailing starts and stops, and you find her across the top floor of this dilapidated house. There sitting in the dimly lit corner is someone unworldly holding her. The soothed from the vault is in her mouth, her eyes wide as she stares up at whatever is holding her.

There’s a glow from something it’s smoking, the orange-red end releasing a trail of a grey-blue haze. You can see a worn and leather cowboy hat upon his head, and a tattered leather duster on his body. 

“Ophelia!” You lurch forward and come to a halting stop at the click of a gun. Overpassing clouds part and a steady stream of moonlight cast upon whoever is holding her.

You feel your heart lurching again, your stomach churning when you see him. He looks human-like but not quite, his skin is marred and looks like it’s been burnt. His eyes are considerably light, and it strikes you deep, though it’s the appearance of his nose, or what’s missing, that makes you feel fearful of that he could be. He’s got a faint kind of orange tint to his skin, and it’s clear that there are scars littering his entire body.

You had seen pictures of bodies exposed to nuclear bombs when testing had begun over a century ago. The bodies that had been marred by the deadly explosions certainly matched the looks of this stranger.

“Long way away from a vault, sweetheart. Especially with a baby. Smoothies like yourself are prime targets for raiders and fucking cannibals.” He clicks the gun in his hand and points it at you, before he looks down at the baby, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“Give her back—“ You try to move again and the sound of a gun firing startles you and stops you in your tracks. Your eyes widen, and your hands start to feel your body for blood, and its only when you realize you’re not bleeding that you look behind you.

Embedded in the wooden wall is a damn near perfect hole, where the bullet embedded. You draw out a shaky breath and turn to look at him again, your hands trembling as your gaze drops to Ophelia. The sound startled her, her cries increasing desperate and fearful. His hold on her tightens, but it seems like it’s all just natural to him.

“You take another step toward me sweetheart, I’ll blow a hole in your fucking knee.” He lowers the gun to the direction of your knee and tilts his head slowly to the left. “Now sit.”

Tag list: @gruffle1

[periprose]

Bedside Manner - Chapter One

The Ghoul x Reader

When it comes to job prospects in the Wasteland, being a nurse isn't all that lucrative. So you're Dom Pedro's assistant, where your nurse skills of administering drugs come in handy with sedating the Ghoul. (Not really following canon, just taking my own spin on stuff)

Genre: fluff, fallout angst (more in future chaps anyways), strangers to accomplices to ambivalent friends to lovers, heated moments of tension, probably eventual smut

Word count: 2.2k

Masterlist | Next Chapter

Holy fuck, does shoveling do a number on your back.

You groan as you roll back your shoulder, and throw the shovel behind you. 

Dom Pedro has been on your ass about this shift. You have to take the Ghoul to Dom’s workshop, where he’ll carve him up, when the sedatives have worn off and the pain will be ever-present and lingering. You figure Dom’s angry about something else– and what better outlet is there than torturing a ghoul?

It’s not something you like to do, carrying this extremely heavy, tall undead-man through Dom Pedro’s house by using a rope system and tugging, and then after Dom Pedro’s had his fun. re-administering drugs that will prevent the feral nature from taking him over, but it’s necessary and it pays well.

Pedro’s a little too elite to do this himself anyways. That’s why he hired you, a former nurse who used to work at a charitable hospital– one that was eventually claimed by the Brotherhood.

You try not to think too much about your former, much more fulfilling career.

The mildly disturbing scent of a living corpse hits you as you open up the casket. The Ghoul isn’t the worst ghoul you’ve ever had to look at, but he’s still a little creepy, and you stare at him as he lies there.

Is he awake? Pretending to be asleep so you’ll be caught off guard, and his gun will fire rapidly, making a bloody mess out of you?

You’re well aware of the risks. You just have to hope that today’s chemical cocktail IVs are correct, and enough is administered inside him so that he’s truly, really, fast asleep.

You carefully tie around his wrists and legs– you feel, somehow, the slightest bit of warmth, something that could suggest a pulse from the veins of his wrists– but you know that’s ridiculous and continue on.

/

Dragging him to the workshop makes you feel a little guilty. His face sometimes smacks onto the wooden floors of this cabin if you’re not careful, and you always whisper a hushed “Sorry!” Even though he’s not human.

You don’t want to be on his bad side, even if he can’t hear you. 

“Why the fuck isn’t there a more moral way to make caps?” You exhale, a common complaint you always have.

You tie him to the torture-chair, wrapping rope around his torso and arms and legs, so he can’t break free, adjusting his hat so it stays on, and because– despite the Ghoul’s reputation as a bounty hunter, you feel like he deserves a little respect with his belongings– and now you’re waiting for Dom Pedro to come and cut him up.

You don’t know why Dom Pedro does this. Is there some sort of use for ghoul skin and blood that you don’t know about? Or is it just purely torture, since Dom Pedro’s kept the Ghoul alive for so long, even giving him the false kindness of anti-feral ghoul drugs so he’ll be entirely aware of every inch Dom Pedro’s knife cuts into him?

You don’t know. And it’s not exactly like you’re important enough to know that information, anyways.  

/

The Ghoul stirs awake. He blinks– he’s back in the workshop, yet again.

He’s only half aware of how he gets here. He knows there’s definitely a woman involved– someone soft, with pliant fingers and hesitant motions that suggest she doesn’t want him to get hurt as she drags him from sleep to being butchered– he only vaguely remembers seeing her back, just once, maybe a few months ago.

He turns to the side, ready for Dom Pedro to be seething in the corner over whatever their beef was and brandishing that scary, rusted axe. 

He’s not there.

Oh. The Ghoul blinks again, his eyes clearing up as he does.

It’s you. You’re the woman, the nurse that Dom Pedro uses to administer all these drugs into him. 

It’s almost a little shocking, a little tantalizing to him to actually see you. Two-hundred years of memories doesn’t exactly give him the most clear of minds, but he knows you’re the one who’s always just hazy, on the edge of his peripheral vision after being tortured, in his dreams after you sedate him.

“Hey, nurse…” He can hardly talk, but you jolt in your spot, and turn to him. 

“Uh–” You stare at him, entirely flabbergasted. “You’re not supposed to be awake!”

“Well, I am. What’re you gonna do about it?” He yawns, still ever so slightly woozy from the drugs. 

The Ghoul notices a knife on the table. He tips his head toward it.

“Cut me free.”

“Are you fucking crazy?!” You shake your head immediately. “Dom Pedro will kill me.”

“Dom Pedro’s a bitch if he’s killing someone willing to do the hard work for what, a couple hundred caps?” The Ghoul raises his non-existent eyebrows, and you swallow. “You don’t know how rare that is nowadays.”

“And I’m supposed to just trust you? The Ghoul, the most terrifying, ruthless, brutal killer I’ve ever known?” You narrow your eyes at him, with every adjective tossed out of your hissing mouth, coming closer and closer to him.   

“I like how you describe me, keep going.” He jokes, looking up at you, but he snarls suddenly and you flinch.

The Ghoul grins in satisfaction, white pearly teeth, very square and rigid in their appearance, something that should look handsome on the right person and instead, is a little unnerving right now.

Still attractive, though, and you question yourself.  

“Let me go, sweetheart, and I promise your death won’t be as half as painful as he could make it.” He drawls, and you swallow but shake your head.

“I’m not interested in being a mercy kill.” You state, and he sucks on his teeth. 

“That’s a mistake.” He leans closer to you, somehow straining against your carefully tied knots to do so. “I’d be doing you a favour.”

“Well, I’m a coward. I’m not all rough and tough and shooting every single person I see, unlike you and Dom Pedro. I’m not gonna die in glorious battle, and I don’t want to die anyways.” You’re glum. “I only took this job because being associated with him protects me.”

The Ghoul is silent for a moment.

“And what if you were associated with me?” He asks, not actually intending anything serious, but he feels an urge to tease you ever so slightly. “That’s protection, isn’t it?”

“What?” You glance back at him. “Why would you do that?”

“Dunno.” He shrugs. “Maybe because I’m trying to bargain my way out of here, maybe because you’re the one who’s been kind enough to make sure I’m not chafing with how you tie these fucking ropes– and I’m assuming you drug me, right, sweetheart? You dull the sick pains he gives me.”

“Uh… yeah, I do.” You pause. “Stop trying to sweet talk me, Ghoul.”

“Nah, nurse. It’s funny and I wonder what Dom Pedro will do when he sees you talking to me.” The Ghoul says, another shit-eating grin upon his face.

Oh.

That’s actually quite bad, you think. The Ghoul hasn’t just been trying to coax you with compliments so you’d help him escape– the longer he’s kept you in this conversation, the closer you’ve gotten to his Plan B: Dom Pedro’s wrath.

“I’m guessing a smart lady like you would be more afraid of him.” The Ghoul keeps prodding, and you glare at him. “Rather than me.” 

You know he’s right. Your eyes give away what you’re thinking as you ever so slightly glance to the table.

There’s a syringe of chems there, meant to send him to sleep after Dom Pedro has done his worst. Usually Dom Pedro takes the initiative to do that himself, because as he tells you, he likes being the only one who can send the Ghoul to sleep, the closest Dom Pedro will let him ever get to death. And then you’re stuck with dragging his comatose body back to the grave that awaits him.

Maybe you can just put a stop to the Ghoul’s philandering right now, and get yourself out of here before things get bad. Dom Pedro wouldn’t even notice– the Ghoul would seem as out of it as he was supposed to be at this time.

It’s only a second of you looking over there, but the Ghoul is quick– too quick, immediately understanding what you intend to do– and he somehow pushes his chair forward, at you, aiming his foot to kick at you with what limited motion he has in his restraints.

You get shoved back with a grunt, and you see him edge towards the knife on the table– but you knock him backwards with a shove, and the chair tips back, only stopping on it’s back legs due to the ropes extending from them, tethered to the back wall and through the gear and pulley systems that are ever present in this workshop. 

The Ghoul’s kept his grip around your wrist, though, from where his hands are tied on the armchairs, and you fall back with him, balancing on your tippie toes and your hands on the top of the chair. Your hair brushes against his face as you lean forward, and you attempt to move away, but he won’t let go of you, instead sighing with gratification as he looks up at you from here.

“Huh. This is a compromising position, isn’t it?” The Ghoul licks his teeth as he keeps pulling you towards him, and you hear the wooden floor creak under you as the chair wavers in the air.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, c’mon, cut the bullshit.” He scoffs, still trying to get you to budge into helping him. “You really think Ol’ Dom Pedro won’t think you’re conspiring with me now, after it looks like you’ve taken a lover–”

There’s a sudden sound at the porch of the cabin. You and the Ghoul both turn to look out the window– and it’s definitely one very drunk Dom Pedro struggling to open the door.

You duck, out of fear that he’ll see you through the window, in the delicate moonlight, and the Ghoul tuts as your face comes near his jaw.

“What’s it gonna be, sweetheart?” He looks at your trembling face nonchalantly, as you try to make a decision. “Free me, and we’ll escape together. Use the drugs, and you’ll be stuck under Dom Pedro’s grubby fingers making exceedingly meagre wages.”

“How do I know you won’t just abandon me as soon as you want to kill a bounty?” You whisper, and he rolls his eyes. 

“You don’t. But I always repay my debts.” He says, and you don’t really believe him at all, but the more time passes by, the more you know that he won’t even seem appropriately sedated for Dom Pedro’s wishes– so you wordlessly nod.

The Ghoul won’t let go of you, so you’re left careening to the side as his arms hold you to him. He’s keeping such a tight grip to ensure that you scrabble for the knife– and you do.

“No sneaky bullshit.” He spits out, and you, despite being of the Wasteland, had no mind to kill him. No, that would’ve certainly looked bad as well. 

Dom Pedro’s favourite lap dog, dead? His bounty killer, who does it for the love of the game? His favourite ghoul to torture? The one who did something so bad it’s basically unspeakable, and Dom Pedro would be livid if he wasn’t ultimately the one to kill him in the end?

You could say goodbye to your head if you killed the Ghoul. You know your place– even if you get paid to administer drugs to him, you’re no better than a dealer, a sweet face providing a nice bedside manner.  

You make quick work of the ropes restraining him, and the Ghoul stands up before ducking behind a table, putting his finger against his lips, shushing you.

You’re very careful now. Dom Pedro is coming down the hallway, and any second now, he’s going to check to see if you brought the Ghoul here.. Luckily, Dom Pedro’s so drunk, he’s taking his time, stumbling and groaning.

After mulling over it in your mind, you decide to take the full syringe on the table. Less evidence, and you figure maybe Dom Pedro will be so drunk he’ll forget you were supposed to be here anyways.

And after second-guessing it– you think fuck it, and take the entire briefcase of drugs with you.

The Ghoul whistles very slightly at the sight of that. “You’re committing.”

You resist the urge to ask him what other choice you have, since running out on Dom Pedro is a great way to have a bunch of bounty hunters after you– you’re relying on selling some drugs, and bribing the Ghoul with some so he’d have to continue protecting you after he inevitably says he’s completed his debt by helping you escape.

“Let’s go.” You mouth, and he nods.

He’s not one to care about personal space at all, though– and he lifts you up over the ledge of the other window, pushing up on your thighs, away from the hallway where Dom Pedro is finally coming in– and you feel your face turn hot at the close contact, halfway over the ledge into the outside, with his hands on your waist as he hoists you away.

You don’t even have time to think about it as you land lightly on the ground together, because he’s right behind you, hands still on your waist for a moment, and then he lets go, and together you move quickly.

[your-averagewriter]

"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!

[littlewriters-posts]

My Experiment 2 - Cooper Howard/Ghoul x OC

Part one here

Plot: Cooper meets a strange sweet girl from his past, wondering how someone that kind has managed to survive the place like this. He tried to forget her, but she keeps coming back.

Warning: None

It had been 30 years. 30 years since Cooper last saw Addy. He didn't think anything of her of course, after being stuck in a coffin for 30 years, he felt no reason to think of the past.

Things like that only brought pain.

After leaving Addy's shop behind, Cooper realised he had never actually told her his name. But did it matter? The likelihood of him seeing her again was very limited. She was probably dead and buried, 30 years was a lot longer than the average life expectancy.

Or so he thought.

The second time he met Addy, he was exhausted.

After letting the dog trail after him, he was on the hunt for yet another Valutie that had ventured out into the open, and had this time taken a head of a very important scientist.

But he had acquired a dog, who was following the scent.

All of a sudden, the dog gave a harsh bark, before scampering harshly to the right.

Cooper frowned "What is it boy? Picked up a scent?"

The dog carried on sniffing, walking with its nose buried in the path.

"goddamn it," The ghoul muttered, realising he was going to have to follow that damn dog whether he liked it or not.

What surprised him, however, was that after a while the dog barked again, this time at a shop.

A rather long shop, with a pink sign. It hadn't changed a bit in the last 30 years.

"Well I'll be darned," Cooper muttered, pushing the door.

He was met with the same calming smile, and cheeky eyes that he was all those years ago.

"Well I live and breath," Addy smiled, her hands on her hips "Ain't you a sight for sore eyes,"

Cooper raised his eyebrows "You weren't kidding about the no aging then hey," he said. He wasn't wrong, Addy seemed not to have aged a single day since he last saw her.

She shrugged "If 200 years is the equivalent to my body clock aging 10, I'd say I got a fair few left in me,"

"You haven't seen a girl walk through here have you? A vaultie?" he asked.

Addy shook her head "No Vaultie here Mr Howard, I think I'd know,"

Cooper eyed her suspiciously "Dogmeat here was tracking the scent ya see, dragged me to here,"

Addy nodded "Ah, yeah erm..." she paused, looking at the dog with adoration "I'm like a magnet to a compass for dogs I'm afraid. They seem to really like my scent,"

Cooper blinked at her and she sighed.

"I'm part wolf Mr Howard. That's the animal they chopped me up with?"

Cooper rolled his eyes, is temper flaring as he glared at the dog. "Stupid," he muttered angrily.

Addy shrugged "Well, you're here now sugar, so what do you need?"

"To get going, I gotta track that damn kid," Cooper said gruffly. He thought about mentioning that she was related to Addy, but decided better of it.

Addy set down a vial of Radway and a mug of steaming hot cocoa in-front of him. "Suns gone down sugar, I'd stay here if I were you,"

Cooper looked outside with a sigh, she was right of course.

"How many favours do I owe for this?" he asked in a teasing nature.

Addy winked at him "On the house honey,"

Cooper watched as she sauntered to the front door, looking outside, before shutting it, and starting on the many locks.

"I never gave you my name you know," he said "So how did ya get it?" he couldn't help but wonder if she really knew who he was, if she'd even remember one of the many people she brought coffee too all those years ago - or if she'd even recognise him in the state he was in now.

She looked back at him, a sad smile playing on her lips "You may have changed your face a bit honey, but the eyes never changed,"

Cooper stared at her, shocked. Did she really recognise him?

"Couldn't break from the cowboy costume could ya?" she laughed. Cooper chuckled slightly.

"If there's one thing I learnt it's you gotta look the part," he said "How you been holding up the past 30 years then?"

Addy shrugged "Same old really. Couple people tried to raid me, didn't work,"

She reached up by the window and started pulling a steel meta curtain down.

"Had to up security a bit," she said.

Cooper watched as she set about locking yet another set of locks.

"Set up a shower in the back if you need it, it's not hot but I managed to get it lukewarm if you wait for a bit," she said.

Cooper raised an eyebrow "I thought you were a runner, not an inventor," he said.

She shrugged "Surprisingly I had time to kill in-between days they were picking me apart. One of the scientists actually took pity on me and started teaching me how things worked,"

"How kind," Cooper said sarcastically.

It was almost uncanny, the two of them speaking. Both thought they'd never see anyone from their past ever again and yet here they were, chatting like old friends.

"Come on, " Addy said "I'll show you to ya room,"

"You got a room for me?" he asked "How sweet,"

She rolled her eyes "Not just for you asshat, it's my room too. But you can't stay out here, it's not as safe - bring your dog too,"

Cooper eyed her "With all the locks you got on this place I'd say it's as safe as you're gonna get,"

Addy grinned "Well unlike some I like to let me guard down sometime, and it's easier to do that in a smaller space,"

Cooper tipped his hat to her, following her into the smaller room.

He didn't quite remember this room from last time, or if he did it was a lot smaller. There were two single beds, each on the opposite side of the room. In the middle a small chest of draws sat, with an old TV sat on top. Old tapes lay scattered around, some with writing on, some without.

Canned food, a dog bed, and bottles of water sat in a tidy pile in the corner of the room, along with what looked like to be extra blankets and covers as well as a first aid kit.

"Nicely stocked in here as well I see," Cooper said looking around "You expecting me?" he asked, gesturing to the dog bed and the other single bed.

Addy rolled her eyes "You that full of yourself?" she asked with a laugh "If you must know, I took in a guy for about 20 years. Him and his damn dog," she said bitterly.

"What happened?" Cooper asked carefully, sensing a sticky end to the story.

Addy shrugged "Dog died of old age, he died of an overdose," she said "Bought 5 years ago now," she added as an afterthought. "Stopped taking in strays after that,"

"I'm sorry," Cooper said sincerely. He was clever enough to not get close to people in the wasteland, but that was a lesson Addy clearly hadn't yet learned.

She waved him off "It happens. Listen I'm off in the shower. There's spare clothes and shit if you wanna get comfy in that wardrobe. Take what you need,"

Cooper watched as she left, before turning back to her little table where the TV was and rifling through the tapes.

Some made him snort, a lot of them were tapes from his good old days. Mainly ones she'd been a runner on, so they included all the behind the scenes footage.

Watching them he knew would probably make his heart break, so he neglected to put them in.

One of the tapes, seemed much newer than the rest however, a white case enclosing it.

Experiment 007 it read.

This was from her vault.

Was she Experiment 007?

He checked that the shower was still running, before putting it into the TV player.

The black screen lit up white, as a man stepped away from the camera. He was short, with glasses and a stout expression.

"Experiment 007, changing human DNA," he read "If we can get this right, it's be a big discovery, and would enable us to make more soldiers when we go atop the surface," he said confidently before stepping back.

As he stepped back, Cooper let out a low growl. For in the middle of the room was a chair, and a young lady strapped too it, her wrists, ankle and forehead strapped to the seat so she couldn't move a muscle.

He recognized her instantly, for she was still seventeen in the video, as she was when he last saw her. She was dressed in a white hospital gown, and on her lap sat a brown teddy.

She was sobbing, her eyes were red and every limb she had was shaking.

"Please no," she moaned "It hurts,"

But the man didn't care, as he leant behind a glass screen.

"Please keep still Amy, It'll be a lot easier," he commanded.

Before Cooper could even realise what was going on, a big red stream of light echoed pieced right through Addy's skull, making the back of her eyes glow.

She let out a scream of pain, the teddy falling from her lap as she cried and writhered.

Cooper took the tape out quickly, breathing heavily. He'd seen some horrible things in his lifetime, it's how he learnt that killing was a mercy, but seeing that brought back pain he didn't realise he could still feel.

"I see you found the tape," Addy said, padding out of her makeshift shower room.

"I did," Cooper said lowly "Have you-"

"Watched it?" Addy asked "Don't need to, I remember everything those fuckers did. The irony? I spent six weeks, 4 hours a day under that laser and it didn't even work. They ended up cutting my head open," she shuddered "Course didn't want to use pain relief on me, that would have been a waste,"

Cooper looked at her sadly. But Addy threw a blanket at him.

"You'll need this, it gets cold at night round here. This room is enclosed with steel - hard but cold,"

"How did you manage all this Amy?" Cooper gestured to the house "Where did you even start,"

"Don't call me that," Addy shuddered "That's not my name anymore." she sighed slightly, looking round the room. "I told ya didn't I? Favours pay a lot more than caps. Got these steel sheets from a welder I helped escape some thieves. The locks installed by some guy I gave water too when he almost died. You rule people out of fear Coop, but you'll find it's crazy what people will give you out of gratitude," she said

Cooper nodded slightly, petting Dogmeats head as he lay on his new found bed.

"You did pretty well for yourself Addy," he said.

"You didn't do too badly yourself Mr Howard," she retorted with a kind smile.

He scoffed "No-ones called me that in years, you don't need to either,"

She shrugged "Can't help it. I had posters of you on my wall when I was a kid. It's like meeting a celebrity,"

Coop snorted "Well I'll give you this, you sure have a way to make a man feel special."

Addy winked at him "I'll still be your runner girl if you need one,"

There was a brief silence as Cooper took off his jacket and boots, collapsing onto the bed with a sigh of relief. He couldn't remember the last time he had laid on an actual mattress.

"When was the last time someone looked after you doll?" he asked, looking over to Addy.

She yawned, stretching up. She was dressed in a battered T-shirt and shorts which were soon covered by the many layers of blankets she put over herself.

"Dunno Coop, not since I was five I don't think," she said "Now you get a good night sleep mister. Sleeping when you know you're safe hits different, trust me,"

Coo[ felt his heart, which hadn't felt anything for such a long time, tug slightly. He silently cursed himself. Hardening his heart to the world wasn't easy, but once everyone you loved was dead it became easier not to love again.

Unfortunately, the past is never that easy to forget, no matter how hard he tried.

He let his eyes shut, drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

He was awoken to a piecing scream. His first instinct was to grab his gun, which he had hidden under the pillow, and point it as the noise.

His second instinct was to open his eyes.

But there was no intruder, no threat. Just Addy, eyes tightly shut, screaming at the top of her lungs.

He quickly grabbed her, putting a hand over her mouth, and drawing her up to him so her back was leant against his chest.

"Shhh doll," he whispered urgently "You'll wake the fucking dead,"

Addy opened her eyes as she stopped screaming, her breathing erratic.

"I - I'm so sorry," she gasped, wiping the furiously forming tears from her face.

Cooper rocked her gently, his arms still wrapped around her shoulders.

"I take it you remember that vault a little too well," he said and she nodded.

"Every night I dream of it," she said bitterly "Been a while since I woke up screaming though. I'm so so so sorry," she pouted slightly "I wanted you to get a good nights sleep,"

Cooper shook his head, letting her lean her head back onto his shoulder as she yawned.

"Don't be sorry, I slept great," he said lowly. "Now scooch over,"

Addy frowned, but did as she was told, moving to the far left of the bed, her back pressed against the wall as she watched Cooper get comfy.

"What are you doing?" she asked. Cooper rolled his eyes, opening his arms and gesturing for her too come to him. Addy's eyes widened considerably, she knew that Cooper Howard the actor probably had a soft side, but from what she heard of Cooper Howard the Ghoul, he was more likely to kill her than comfort her.

"I might be a ghoul but I was human once," he said dryly. "So shut it and let me comfort you,"

Addy paused for a second, before shrugging. She scooted down, turning onto her side so she was cuddled up to cooper's side. It was nice, she admitted, to have such a dominate presence. It was like an extra security blanket.

"No-one would believe me if I told them The Goul had gone soft," she giggled.

"You tell em and I'll have to kill you," Cooper muttered sleepily "So keep that pretty mouth shut,"

[persefolli]

𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐌

𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐚 𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞

𝐂𝐨𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝

𝐀/𝐧: 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬, 𝐈 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐡

“So you want me to take my ass all the way down to California to capture this guy for 500 caps. You've lost it.”

“A thousand.”

You tilted your head and inspected the photo

“15 hundred.”

The fat man groaned and rolled his eyes, “Fine.”

You folded the paper and slipped it in your back pocket. 

It had been about a decade since you woke up. You were a long way from California. What was once left of Oregon was filled with sandy terrains. Sweat dripped from every exposed part of your body and for miles there was nothing but dunes. It was crazy how much a nuke can alter a landscape, back a couple hundred years ago the Pacific Northwest had grass and tree filled mountains with lush rivers. Now everything reminded you of a Frank Herbert book. 

The longer you walked the more you accepted that you weren’t gonna find a shelter for the night. Slowing down, the fatigue caught up to you and you fell to your knees, face down into the earth. 

“Emergency alert system has been activated, this is a national emergency. All broadcast and cable systems shall transmit this emergency action notification message.”

You sat with your mouth hung open along with your team as you were getting ready for another shoot. Before you could even think of calling Cooper, armed men bursted into the room, shooting every living thing in sight. You screamed loudly and dropped to the floor, but was grabbed by one of the soldiers and dragged out of the filming studio. 

You stumbled barefoot behind the soldier, then paused.

Everyone fell silent and the world stopped.

The familiar mushroom cloud that was only shown in demonstrations was stretching beyond the skyscrapers of L.A. 

“We have to go now!” One of them yelled and dragged you to a bunker shaped building. One you’d always thought was a set but apparently not. They shoved you in, and you stood in your robe, alongside other girls you recognized as Cola girls.

Soldiers guarded the door as they motioned for the doors to be closed. "W-wait." You walked up to one of the guards. "My....boyfriend is supposed to be bringing my lunch he...he has to be driving up the hills by now can't we wait?!"

"No. We're closing this vault now!"

"I never signed up to be here! I want out. Now!"

"Have you fucking lost it?" One of the soldiers pushed your shoulder. "We're gonna be skinned dry if you don't move the fuck back now!"

"I won't be-"

The guard raised his gun and clocked you right in the face.

You woke up to a dog licking your nose and whimpering. You opened your eyes to see you were at a gas station, or what once was. Sitting up you looked at the german shepherd that sat and began wagging his tail. "Hey you." You smiled and pet the dog.

"She's awake? Great!"

A man came trudging from the gas station in an abnormally large backpack and a severed head.

You instinctively reached for your gun but realized you’d been stripped of all your items. The man shook his head and you scowled at him. You averted your eyes to the severed head and the man rolled his eyes.

"Oh this?" He raised the head. "Long story."

You stood and wiped your hands on your pants. "Where is my stuff?"

"I have it. Put away. Safe."

"Thanks but I'll be needing it back." 

The man didn't move and he cleared his throat. "I am Thaddeus. Squire of the Brotherhood-"

“Ah, ah, ah, listen,” You interrupted him. “You seem like a knightly man and all but I need my bags."

"Listen. I found you. A woman alone in the wasteland. And as a sworn protector I must take you back to-"

"The Brotherhood?"

"Yes."

You stared at him for a moment before sighing deeply and cracking your knuckles. "No."

"What?" Thaddeus nervously chuckled.

"I'm not going. You can't make me."

"I mean....physically I can but....."

"Oh can you?"

Thaddeus sighed and dropped his backpack along with the head. He began skipping on his feet and rolling his neck. "I usually don't mean to use force on a woman but you've left me no choice." He lunged at you but you quickly jabbed his throat which caused him to grab his neck and wheeze. He fell back onto the ground and groaned.

You took the chance to raid his backpack and get your things out of there. You then paused and picked up the head.

"This worth money?"

Thaddeus panted on the ground, unmoving.

"Gonna assume yes." You clicked your tongue and began walking towards what seemed like a small city in the distance. 

“...blood pressure of 120/80, heart rate of 72 bpm….” The male's voice faded as you fluttered your eyes.  

“Where the fuck am I?” You moved your mouth to speak but nothing came out.

Doctors and nurses moved around you and eventually helped you sit up. “Y/N…Y/N L/N.”

A man in a suit and briefcase smiled and stood at the edge of your hospital bed. “You must be confused.” He smiled. “Let me explain some things. Get you situated.”

You looked around and realized how strange it was to be  in a hospital after nuclear bombs had dropped. You reached up and grabbed your head. 

“209 years ago you signed on to be a Cola girl for Nuka-Cola! Well, Vault-tec is the mother company of Nuka-Cola. You only served out a few months of your contract and now you need to serve out at least 14 more years-”

“Fifteen years? You just said it's been 209!”

“Yes. We preserved you during cryosleep so you can finish the rest of your contract.”

“I want out. Hit me with a firestorm of lawyers I don't care.”

The man in the suit began laughing and shook his head. “You don't understand sweetheart. There is no law there is no…way out.” He nodded. “Vault-tec runs things now. So how about you get washed up and you can get ready for the photoshoot later.”

You made it to this place called ‘Filly’. It was a few miles from the hills, or what used to be. You were a good distance away from Santa Barbara, you and Cooper's favorite place. Cooper. You bit the inside of your cheeks everytime you found yourself thinking of him. Imagining how close he was to the bunker before they shut the doors. The guilt ate you up day by day.

There was a singular store in Filly, to which you walked in and sat the head on the counter of the old lady’s shop. “Who’s looking for this and for how much?” You nodded at her.

“What’s a lady like you doing carrying around-” You pulled your jacket pocket back and flashed the gun, not to scare her, but to show her there were female bounty hunters that passed through California. 

“You can give it to Vault-tec….or I can try and get you connected with Moldaver.”

“Get me the Moldaver guy.”

The lady nodded and began flipping through the book. The bell on the door rang notifying everyone that someone had entered.

“Also,” You started. “You seen this man?”

The woman let her glasses fall and nodded behind you. Surely it was the man on the sketch. 

“He hang ‘round here a lot?”

“Stays right in that hotel across from here, sits his creepy ass outside everyday all day till he gets drunk and disappears to god knows where.”

You watched him through the glass door as he walked over to the motel. “I think I’ll be staying here for a while.”

𝐀/𝐍: 𝐋𝐨𝐥 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐭.

You’d never taken this much time to wrap up one of your bounties and send them off to get your money, but this Ghoul guy was one of the most difficult to get alone. The lady in the store was right about him sitting on the front porch of the motel everyday just staring at people.

When you walked out of your motel you made sure to keep a bandana on your face so he wouldn’t notice how much you lurked around. The plan was to wait until he got drunk and stumbled off, knock him out, tie him up, then rent one of the trucks and drag him to the Oregon border but this was one of the first times you actually felt nervous about capturing one of your bounties. 

The Ghoul had gotten into a bar fight a few days back, and he ended up blasting the whole structure with his explosive bullets so half of Filly was exposed to the dusty wasteland. The townspeople didn’t like that so they vandalized his motel. But he didn't care, the next day he just sat right back out on the porch.

“Sweetheart.” He called to you once.

“Get me some tomatah’s yeah?” He threw you a few caps.

You nodded and kept an eye on him while you bought a bag of cherry tomatoes from him. He had that southern accent. Cooper used to speak just like him. You handed him the remainder of caps and the bag of cherry tomatoes. You left him alone after he gave you a thank you and a wicked smile.

Frustrated with your progress, you decided to focus on more important matters. The convenience store lady was able to get you a meeting with Moldaver’s people not too far from here. The morning after the cherry tomato incident, you set out of Filly, walking towards a place called Shady Sands. 

You treaded on a desire path, one that walked on the edge of the crater of where a small city once stood. You stopped seeing a standing billboard. A Nuka-Cola billboard, and the Cola girl that happened to be on there was you. You furrowed your eyebrows and drew your gun quickly, blasting a hole right where your face was plastered, replacing it with the blue sky.

You hated yourself for signing that contract, you hated doing photoshoots all the time, and you hated that you didn’t do more to save Cooper that fateful day. 

Whatever, that was hundreds of years ago.

A few miles from Shady Sands was an abandoned school, and you knew Moldaver was there based on the sets of footsteps that were in the ground that led to the entrance. Inside, you saw two armed guards standing beside a woman with long black hair. You narrowed your eyes and scanned your surroundings, making sure you weren’t falling for any traps.

“Heard you were looking for a head.” You held up the severed head. 

The woman smiled, standing and walking forward to inspect it. “Nice to see another woman in the industry.” 

You said nothing and rocked on your heels. “What’s so special about it?”

The woman sighed, “Cold fusion, can basically power up New York City without actual electricity. It's a complicated concept.”

You nodded, “So…how much is it worth?”

“I got 10 thousand caps for you.”

“Ten thousand?!”

“Well that was the bounty, and you brought it right to me.” She narrowed her eyes at you. “Everyone’s been looking for this head and you just have it. And you don’t care that you're just handing it over.”

“I don’t have much to care about anymore…not really.” You shrugged. 

Moldaver recognized the look in your eyes. The look that told the same story a thousand ways, that you had lost everything.

“It’s getting dark. Take your caps and go.”

“Wait!” You stopped her and pulled out the bounty for The Ghoul. “Why is this thing wanted?”

Moldaver narrowed her eyes and looked at the photo closely. “Oh him! Just a pain in the ass.” You were surprised at the reason he was wanted so badly, but whatever, you needed the money, but not so much anymore after turning in the head for thousands of caps. 

After the meeting you hiked back to Filly, thinking of all the different ways you would spend the money tonight, maybe a bigger room, or a couple of drinks, but you were shocked to come back and see people scurrying around and yelling. You went through the tunnel and saw The Ghoul in the midst of the chaos grunting and punching the ground. You drew your gun, assuming he’d gone feral, but he was just drunk, and upset.

“Who shot the board? Who did it! Come out right fucking now!” He snarled.

You raised an eyebrow and approached slowly, drawing your gun. The older lady from the store grabbed your arm to stop you, shaking her head. “He has explosive bullets.” She reminded you, pointing to a large hole in Filly’s infrastructure, where the bar once was. 

“I got this.” You reassured her. 

The Ghoul looked up at you and heaved as you got closer to him. “The fuck do you want. You know who did it?”

You silently stared at him as he jerked, waiting on an answer. You jumped hearing him yell. “I won’t stop! til I find out who shot my baby’s face!” He yelled.

“That was my face you dipshit.” You tugged down your bandana and his pupils dilated. He visibly calmed down and dropped his arms in disbelief. He was still on his knees, so you held the gun to his head. “Dead or Alive. I think I'm just gonna take you now.” You said. 

“Oh Y/n….Y/n.” He grabbed at your jeans. “This can’t-....how?”

“Stop moving!”

“Wait!” He exclaimed. “It's me! It’s me, baby. It's Cooper!”

You furrowed your eyebrows and tilted your head in confusion, scanning his face over again. How could you have not made the connection. The voice, the mannerisms, even down to the way he dressed. “It’s me, baby. We had a dog named Roosevelt, a house in hidden hills, and you have a birthmark on your right asscheek.” He panted. “You always covered it before a shoot because you didn’t like how bright it was.” 

You dropped the gun, stumbling back in disbelief. Over 200 years later. The man that was the cause of your coldness, was now here in front of you. You dropped your gun and began crying, sniffling and shaking your head in shock. You’d been hunting your own man all these months, ready to kill him. You dropped to your knees and cradled his face. He began to cry as well, dryly since his ducts had been burnt out long ago, and he nuzzled his face in your neck. His arms wrapped around your waist and squeezed you close to him. “That board….That’s all I had left of you.” He whispered. “I tried going home and finding a picture I just couldn’t-”

“Shhh.” You rubbed up his neck and the back of his head. 

The two of you situated in the middle of a chaotic filly, holding one another in shock and love.

You reached in your pocket and raised the bounty paper in the air, letting it fly off into the dust beyond.

[athanza]

Starlett - Part 2

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 Cooper dad fluff because why not ♡

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

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

Part 1 | Part 3 | Final part

2296

The harsh sun was setting now which meant he needed to find somewhere to settle in for the night. The rickety second floor of one of these buildings would be the best option so he'd have a good vantage point if something were to happen.

As he searched for the right building he began to hear muffled screaming coming from further in the crumbled town. At first, he couldn't give a rat's ass, but he needed to know if it was a big enough threat for him to keep moving.

It didn't take long for gunshots to begin ringing out through the ruins, but they were only from 3 separate guns...then 2...then 1.

As he reached the area where the shots were coming from, the sounds of a pissed off Yao Guai became apparent, and there was one singular person left to fight it off but she looked like she was badly injured.

"You son of a bitch!!" She yelled when her gun jammed and the wounded beast readied itself for another charge.

As it lunged at her one more time a shotgun shell slammed into the side of it's head and it went down, a pink mist left in the air for a moment as the rest of it's brains splattered to the ground.

The woman turned to where the shot came from to see Cooper walking casually towards her, unable to see his face very well in the dark. She pointed her now un-jammed rifle at him just in case.

"Those things'll kill ya." He quipped.

"Yeah, no shit." She replied, wincing at the pain from a gash on her side.

He cocked his head a little. Her voice sounded familiar.

"Why don't you put down that gun so I can cut myself some bear hide and be on my way?"

She scoffed. "So you can shoot me in the face and steal all my shit? No thanks cowboy."

That was it, the confirmation he didn't think he'd get.

"Irene?" He said.

The woman paused briefly, then aimed her gun properly. "How do you know my name?"

He stepped a little closer so that the light from the lantern on the ground could illuminate his face.

It took her a moment but she recognised his eyes and immediately lowered her weapon.

"Cooper?"

2077

A scream woke Cooper up in the middle of the night and he instinctively got up and ran to his daughter's room.

"Daddy!" Janey cried when she saw him.

He came over and hugged her tightly. "Hey, hey, it's ok, it was just a dream, you're ok."

She cried into him for a moment before spluttering "Why don't you and mommy love each other anymore?"

That caught him off guard. He had no idea what to say and it hurt so much hearing her say that.

"It's not that we don't love each other honey, it's just..." He tried desperately to search for the right words. "Well...your mom and I just disagree on somethin' really important and we tried to figure it out but it was too hard."

"What did you disagree on?"

"Well...that's grown up stuff baby girl."

She sulked quietly, putting her head back on his chest.

"We still love you very very much, that hasn't changed at all."

"Is it my fault?" She asked and his heart broke.

"No baby girl, no, not at all. None of this is your fault."

"I know I haven't been doing my homework, and I don't always feed Roosevelt when I'm told and-"

He cut her off, kneeling beside the bed so he could look her in the eyes. "Janey," he held her hands. "None of this is your fault. Your mother and I loved you since the day we found out we were gonna have you. And when you were born, we looked at you and we just cried and cried.

I have never been prouder or happier than I was in that moment. And you know what? That hasn't changed a bit, not even a little."

Janey smiled, her face still wet with leftover tears.

"Really?" She sniffed.

"Yes." Cooper chuckled, scooping her up and hugging her again and she giggled. "Now, how about a hot chocolate, with double marshmallows?"

She smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

She hugged him as he carried her downstairs. "I love you daddy." She said.

His chest burst with warmth and happiness and he smiled. "I love you too sweetheart."

The next morning, Janey was watching cartoons on the TV while eating her breakfast and Cooper sipped greatfully at his cup of hot coffee, having not gotten much sleep.

He smiled as he heard his daughter giggle at the TV, her mouth full of cereal, and sat down at the dining table with his newspaper.

But just as he sat down the loud ringing from the telephone rang out through the kitchen and he sighed heavily.

"I'll get it!" Janey yelled and ran over, hoping it was her mother. Her face dropped when it wasn't her mother's voice she heard on the other end of the line. "Yeah he's here, I'll put him on."

Cooper looked up at her tone and she held the receiver out to him. "It's for you dad."

He walked over and took it, kissing her on the head before she went back to her cartoons.

"Hello?" He said.

"Mr. Howard, it's Irene. I'm sorry to call you at home but I need your help."

Her voice told him it was serious. "What's wrong?"

"You were right. About Frank. I know we barely know each other but I need somewhere to stay for the night before I go to my mother's up in Sacramento. Lee...Lee doesn't know."

"I uh..."

"...no, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have bothered you." She said.

"No, no, it's ok. I'll make up the guest room for you."

He could hear a faint sigh of relief in her answer. "Thank you, so much, I owe you one."

He gave her his address and they hung up.

"Who was that dad?" Asked Janey.

"A friend from work. She needs a place to stay tonight so she's gonna stay in the guest bedroom. You'd like her."

She kind of shrugged in an uninterested way and took another bite of her cereal, her attention back on the TV.

He hoped no one sees Irene at his house, that's the last thing he needs in the papers, especially now.

Part 1 | Part 3

[zvdvdlvr]

The World We Knew

☢️ — synopsis. Sometimes even the Ghoul got lost in thought.

When Cooper was bored and there wasn’t anything worth shooting, he would find himself thinking of the love he had, the life he had, and the world he knew. He only let himself take a blast to the past once in a blue moon. Cooper knew that you were dead, your corpse long rotted over the 200 some years after the bombs dropped.

Admittedly this was one of the times Cooper would think of her.

The first time Cooper heard of you was after hearing your name being brought by some scriptwriters. “She’s just a young thing without much experience. We need to have a bigger name in this move, not some girl!”

The other man ‘tsk’ed. “Foolish man! I know the woman personally- not in such an inappropriate way, mind- and this would do wonders for her career! Y/n is truly a lovely thing and skilled at her trade. Just let me bring her in, Randy. Make your decision after you meet her.”

Randy sucked his teeth and massaged his temple. “Fine. A quick meeting. But when that thirty minutes is over, don’t yell at me when she’s thrown out.”

The Ghoul pulled out his canteen of miraculously clean water and took a sip. He had quietly grabbed a snack during their conversation and left without a word. Little did he know just how drastically his life would change after that conversation.

“Hello! I’m y/n l/n,” a woman greeted politely. She stuck out her manicured hand and shook Cooper’s tightly. Cooper was surprised by your firm and respectful handshake- he was used to people running up and hugging him or gushing and asking him questions.

“Well,” Cooper said as he returned your handshake. “I’m Cooper Howard, darlin’. More than happy to make your acquaintance. What brings you around… here?” He gestured to the men and women running around the movie set. He remembered your name from the overheard conversation from about a month ago. 

You just laughed. “It would appear, Mr. Howard, that I will be lucky enough to work with you. I would have gone as far as to guess the production crew would have told you? It was brought to my attention that you were aware of my arrival,” you explained. Cooper was amazed at your polite and easygoing nature. It felt wonderful to be treated like just and average Joe for once. “I’m sorry you had to find out by me, Mr. Howard. I was under the impression you were already aware of this arrangement.”

“Oh, Cooper or Coop is fine, sweetheart,” Cooper told you kindly. “And it is truly no problem. Why don’t we go and see if we can get you all situated?” To Cooper’s delight, you nodded with a grateful smile. “Well have some time left until we wrap up for the day: why don’t you tell me about yourself, darlin’?”

Heaving a sigh, Cooper lets himself kick aimlessly at a large chunk of rock. What he wouldn’t do to go back in time to just have another conversation with you…

You two had gotten alone like two peas in a pod! Weeks passed quickly and soon the movie Caught on the Tides was released. To no one’s surprise, it was a smashing hit. People apparently loved the idea of a woman who was practically immune to the male charm until Walter (Cooper) caught your eye at a local festival. It was an easygoing romance/comedy that was thankfully PG-13. As a young woman, the past roles you were offered were side pieces or basically selling yourself. You took what you could get and attempted to steer clear of the nudity.

The side celebratory party was amazing. Randy and Joseph had rented out a cozy little bar/restaurant building that had enough room for about 100 people. The other castmembers, producers, and writers were there along with quite a few guests.

As the night went on, though, you found yourself growing increasingly exhausted with all the plastered smiles and arm patting and men’s eyes dropping to your assets whenever they thought you wouldn’t notice. You slipped out a side door and dug out a smoke and a light from one of the pockets you’d personally sewn into your dress.

You had just slipped out of your heels and plopped (unladylike, of course, but no one else was there to reprimand you) when the door opened. The intrusion made you want to sigh unprofessionally loudly and hide in the puffy material of your dress. Until Cooper’s smooth voice and slim body say down right beside you.

“Some producers are lookin’ for you.” Cooper’s comment doesn’t have the sharpness your manager’s would when she hollered up a storm about your tendency to wander.

In response you only click your tongue and fill your lungs up with smoke. You turn and face Cooper, who’s complexion is lit wonderfully but the light of the full moon. “Do you think the man on the moon gets lonely, Coop?”

Cooper’s eyebrows dip downwards. “I- I’d imagine so. Can’t be too fun bein’ up there by his lonesome.”

“I think so too,” you hum. Smoke seeps out of your lips as you turn to ask him another question. “Do you ever feel like the man on the moon, Coop? I’m just- I- I wonder if I’m in over my head sometimes with everyone here, Coop, and I-“ your words stumble out of your mouth and your hands shake as you bring the cigarette to your lips again. “I just feel like… you’re the only one that knows what I’m talking about, what I’m feeling.”

Cooper stares into your teary eyes with a heavy heart. You brought out such a protective part of Cooper he hasn’t felt since… since falling in love for the first time. Cooper shook his head. “I know, sweetheart,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. A sick part of him feels ecstatic that you are practically snuggling into his side- that you feel that he is the only one that understands. Deep down Cooper indulges himself in thinking you want him the way he wants you.

But you don’t. So Cooper is just barely content to let you lean into his side and tearfully ask for advice. “A part of that is always there, sweetheart. I feel like the man on the moon more than I’ll ever admit. But I’m also an old man who’s future is practically set in stone. You, though,” he chuckled and patted your side. You seeped into him and Cooper felt adrenaline rush through his veins. He could smell your delicately scented shampoo and matching body wash. “You could have any man on Earth you wanted, darlin’. Only a fool wouldn’t fall for you.”

You sighed and snuffed out your cigarette. Every part of you told you to leave him alone- to leave whatever relationship you have with him alone because he’s married (and you’d rather die than ruin your friendship). But being tucked under his arm and hearing the speed of his heartbeat made you think he felt the same as you. “Coop?”

Cooper looked back down at you. “Hm?”

“Are you a fool?”

Cooper’s heart raced. Your powerful gaze seemed to dig into his soul, searching for the answer he’d be damned to hell if he never gave you. “Do you take me for a fool, darlin’?”

You swallowed. “No, Cooper. Never.”

Within seconds, Cooper found his lips pressed against yours. He felt like exploding into a ton of confetti. His other hand came to cup your cheek and take dominance of your mouth. The passion Cooper felt was like none other and your breathless whimpers only encouraged him.

“Cooper…” you murmured, sitting up and grasping st the nape of Cooper’s neck. You felt perfect.

Cooper closed his eyes. He stood outside a familiar house. He figured he would stay here for the night. Cooper had already cleared, secured, and set traps around the building whenever he knew he’d be back.

Heaving a sigh, Cooper settled down on the bed and tilted his hat down over his eyes.

“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart,” Cooper muttered after wrapping a hand around your waist. “Got another birthday party and then I’m all yours, baby doll.”

The fall from fame was hard on everyone but Cooper refused to let it affect your career. He only saw you in professional settings and when no one saw you enter or leave his house. 

“Manager’s giving me the day, so I’ll be here all day if you don’t mind,” you said, scooping out cherry pie filling from the can to your mouth with a spoon. Frank Sinatra’s hauntingly low voice crackled through the radio, painting a scene Cooper wanted to commit to memory forever.

Cooper just shrugged. “Up to you,” he said. “How do I look?”

You tilted your head and slid off the counter. Your hands came up to adjust the collar of Cooper’s blue cowboy shirt. Then they slid down to his lapels to smooth back. “Perfect. Ready to roll, cowpoke,” you joked.

His soft eyes stopped you in your tracks. “Why’re you looking at me like that, Coop?”

“Like what?” Cooper asked. His tone was teasing but you noticed a hint of the seriousness that had grown on him as of late.

You shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know, Coop. Like… like you love me, I suppose.”

Laughter filled the room, drowning Sinatra’s eerie song. “‘I suppose’?”

You shook your head with laughter. “I don’t want to overstep right now, Coop.”

The mood turned quiet again at your words. Cooper took your face in his hands and rested his thumbs under your eyes. “You don’t overstep, sweetheart. Speak your mind. Always.”

“I will. Promise,” you replied solemnly. Cooper pulled your face up to his and kissed you gently.

“I’ll be home later, sweetheart. Promise.”

You grabbed your spoon and the cherry pie filling before fallowing Cooper outside. The cool grass felt good on your bare feet as you watched Cooper mount his horse. When he looked back at you, Cooper broke out into laughter at the sight of you raising our eyebrows suggestively. “I’ll be back soon, sweetheart, and then we can get busy.”

You muttered something along the lines of ‘save a horse, ride a cowboy’ before nodding with a comically dejected expression. “Alright. Bye Coop. Be safe!”

Cooper tipped his hat at you. “I will, sweetheart. I’ll see you later, now.”

Cooper could have sworn he heard you call out ‘I love you’ as he rode away. In fact, Cooper would have sworn on his life that you had said you loved him. But Cooper would just come home to you and hear you say it clearly when he got home.

If he got home.

200 years later, Cooper heard Frank Sinatra singing “over and over, I keep going over the world we knew” and wished he would have told you he loved you back.

[ladybirdswritings]

Diamond & Rough - Cooper Howard (Ghoul) x Reader

Summary: You are regarded as the most precious diamond. Beautiful, kind, and intelligent. This season is your second and men have lined up to take your prestigious hand. However, a certain cowboy has ridden into town and you cannot seem to get your mind off of him.

Notes: Okay after the poll I caved big time. So here we are! This is the prologue, the next chapter will be posted today or tomorrow. As always, feel free to share your thoughts and interactions as it motivates me! Enjoy…

prologue…

Inferno.

Vicious, scorching inferno whipping viciously at cherry and oaks. Eating away at them like ants to honeycomb. Licking up the remnants of what was once a home and coughing up nothing more than its ashes upon digestion.

Lucy… Lucy!

A ghoulish voice haunting the halls, the very crest and husk of the structure once danced within. Once loved within.

The same ghoul caught himself upon a tilted pillar as the stairs below him collapsed, his feet far too fast to protect what his eyes should have never seen.

His beautiful, beautiful Lucy. Lit ablaze like a moth who grazed candle flame and took flight.

Lucy!

He was not a man that had much thought in love, no. Cooper Howard was a man of action. Action so flooded by his own admiration, it could not be considered sane action any longer.

So? He leaped through the embers and rubble and lit himself ablaze with his dearest, holding her close so that they might burn together…

🏷️’s @gingersforeverbox