#The Ghoul imagine

[bowieandqueen11]

Exchanging Pleasantries / Cooper Howard Imagine

Request: Could you please do hurt/comfort with The Ghoul? Like, maybe you got hurt during a fight with Raiders and he's being mean while stitching you up. Thanks pookie bookie ily

Omg bb @itsyellow ily too I couldn't wait to write this!! Hit me with that hurt/comfort that's my jam son

Also did I make this full of unresolved sexual tension? Frick yeah I did

As always, if you enjoyed please drop a comment to help me out and let me know!

Warning: slightly NSFW/ making out, mentions of injury and violence, slight mention of a choking kink? and some strong language!

(I do not own Fallout or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @goodsirs.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

'Y'know, you may be one of the stupidest goddamn people left on this planet. And I've seen a hell of a lotta stupid people.'

You know better to think that the one and only Ghoul: the slinking shadow that steadily tails and entraps every inch of the starkly barren world he can reach, the infamous bounty feared in every town, from Philly to Rivet City, would be one for pleasantries. Yet, even during your brief period travelling with the man across the wake of the formerly 'glorious' West-coast America, his callousness often left you wishing for the sweet silence of a Nuclear Winter.

Even Cooper Howard himself recognises the fact that he doesn't exactly, well, radiate off anything that could be called close to a succouring nature. Hell, he would be happy to radiate off anything that wouldn't have you spending his valuable time making detours to wandering doctors holed up in blood-splattered tents to use his hard-earned money in bartering for caps off your next bottle of Rad-X. He supposes, as you had shaken the bottle in front of his frowning face and wandered back off into the crowning desert sun, that if he could work himself back up to being unenthused, he would be able to count it as his first win in over two hundred years.

'Well, if you tried to stop fighting every single person still left out here I wouldn't have to risk my ass stupidly running in to save you', you retort, gnashing your teeth and trying your best not to squirm against his chest as he rips a fragment of broken plate from the back of your shoulder.

It wasn't often that you were allowed to light a fire in the wilds of the Wasteland: far too many radroach nibble bites littered your legs, far too many gash-covered tentacles slashes from the repulsive Centaurs marked your outer arms. However, as the two of you had spent your seemingly so lovely afternoon out on the highway being ambushed by a group of bloodthirsty Raiders, you had browbeaten the Ghoul into allowing the two of you such a special treat. An empty bottle of Nuka Cola lies by your faded makeshift floor covering that acts as your mattress, and you sigh in relief as the warmth of the flames licks across your tired arms.

Your soon drawn out of your repose by the feel of The Ghoul's cowboy boots thumping against either side of your legs; he awkwardly tries to leave enough room that he's not straddling your back, but his legs won't quite dip down enough to be more than halfway off the floor.

It leaves him having to scrape himself forward until his groin is nearly pressed against your tailbone, and you can feel the hem of his hat brush up your neck as he idly surveys the extent of your injuries. As he fidgets the strap of your vest down past the joint of your shoulder, you have to breathe in sharply to stop yourself grunting at the sharp scratch of his glove's rough seams as he drags his hand down.

'You're right', he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, dragging a strip of musty cloth out of his satchel bag and pressing it against your oozing wound. 'Your ass really is fucking stupid if you think that you were helpin'.' You grimace as a flash of stimulation and mortification flashes through your body; whether the pain in your gut is from the flesh wounds or from the clutch of thick leather as the Ghoul tantalisingly rakes his fingers up the tender skin of your shoulder and grips, you're too distracted to try and find out.

Sweeping your eyes over the fire-brushed ground that cracked and and crumbled underneath your heel, you can understand his frustration at you. At the world. Scorch marks litter the dusty ground around your make-shift campsite, the plasma rifles and energy weapons the Fiends had managed to barter, steal, and smuggle out from the Van Graffs stock lying in blasted pieces around the fragments of rusted metal once shielding the long gone diesel pumps. The violence - the anger, it always seemed never ending. Gosh, what you wouldn't give for a canopy right now: to stop the sun burns from blistering your face, to hide the sudden hush of shame and embarrassment that rose flush up your face like a mushroom cloud.

'Yeah, well, I did come running- you're welcome, by the way-', you start, but the Ghoul, as venomous a man as he is, cuts short your reply by prodding the point of one of the needles holding the tail edge of his coat together into the hanging flaps of your skin. Your hand balls into a fist as you feel the sharp tip scrape over muscle; you try your best not to whimper as his poison slits through your veins and slithers down to corrode your very soul, but the relief. Oh, god, corruption has never felt so good as the Ghoul's free hand sliding down to cup your ribcage. His middle and ring finger took turns tapping against your waist, a slight huff coming from his mouth and tingling against the shell of your ear.

At first, you think the Ghoul is mad at you: pissed off that if any of the Raiders had survived and scampered off back to their chem-den to frenziedly retell their confrontation with a certain duster-clad gunslinger, a certain ruthless reputation - a certain long upheld persona, would be tarnished. That he was aggravated in having to waste his dwindling supply of bullets in wasting the spiky-hair fiend that had sprung out from the door of the thought abandoned Red Rocket Truck Stop just as you were busy body slamming his friend to the ground. That he was embittered at the fact that you had the incredibly anserine idea to stop off in the middle of goddamn nowhere: somewhere straight off your Pip-Boy map to nestle down for the night on your route to the New Vegas strip.

Enraged, indeed, by the fact that he may have to admit that he wanted to save your life.

'You call that running?', he puffs out a chuckle, unceremoniously wiping the blood of the needle by using the back of your vest. 'I call that leaping up yonder head over ass across that Nuka-Cola machine.' He lets go of your side, much to your disappoint, and looks at you disapprovingly as you turn around to face him. He's waving the syringe edge of a stimpak in your general direction, and you make sure to slap his hand extra hard as you grab it off him.

'You know, cowboy, you were the one that asked me to tag along. Not the other way round', you groan in exhilaration as you stab the needle into the knife wound on your thigh, and that first hit of the Stimpak courses through your muscle. Cooper has to clench his fingers into the leather of his fist to stop himself from going feral right there and then. He sniffs loudly, scrunching up his nose and casting his gaze to the fireside to try and hide his displeasure.

'Well', he manages to choke out between clenched teeth, gripping onto his own leg so harshly he wonders if he's drawn blood between his claws, 'you are such delightful company.'

For the first time in his life, Cooper Howard wants to just... ride away from his problems. That's all you were supposed to be: a solution. A resource. Another object to exploit, to foist upon his own callous needs so that he may survive another day in this merciless hell pit. A life for a hundred and fifty vials felt like a mighty fair trade in the disintegrating shit-show of post-apocalyptic commerce.

It had been easier that way, luring you away from the only small shack left among the rubble of the underground Subway Station that the Fiends hadn't left splattered with blotted rivers of crimson and half-mangled body parts. It had been so much simpler, as he had shoved the still fresh bodies of the murderers and cannibals off the side of the Metro escalator, that he was here to save you. That he had no knowledge of the bounty held over your head by the Enclave, or of the reasons that you had become so... acquainted with the New California Republic during your month long travels for the Crimson Caravan Company. As the door had groaned open, he was left pointing his pistol in your face: a towering penumbra, larger than life, that seemed to swallow every inch of swinging lamplight around your doorway in a veiled sinfulness. He had found it so much easier, as he peered down at your gloomy face and smirked as the unmistakable sound of a Ripper reared closer to his head, that he was here to be your saviour.

That's right. As he had offered you protection: a safe route away, a constant presence, your second shadow on your journey back to the Strip for only a measly few caps, he had found it so much easier to pretend that this wasn't personal. That the way you shook his hand hadn't made his skin prickle, hadn't been the first thing his nerves had alighted at since the last fading memory he had of caressing his wife. That the way you had strapped your leather armour pauldron around your left shoulder, and pulled up the hem of your trouser leg to strap a hidden knife to your calf didn't have him unconsciously dragging his tongue along the cracks of his bottom lip, and left him staring in bemusement. The incredulousness that had his eyes glazing over and the bottom of his stomach clenching as the two of you pried open the doors back up to the surface, and he had nonchalantly inquired as to who had... disposed of the Fiends before his arrival here. You had just shrugged, throwing a smirk at him from behind your shoulder, and he couldn't help but feel his own mouth twitch up to mirror your reaction.

It had been so, so much easier to pretend that you were just another bounty. That you were the first person, since he had lost Janey in another life, that had made him feel something other than contempt. Or worse, nihility. Nothingness. Just a hodgepodge script of fabricated and fictional lines that he reeled off as if it were more than just second-nature; an amalgamation of everything hollow and horrid that he had spent so much of his long-lost life trying desperately to bury.

But Cooper knew better than anyone, that nothing, and no one, could stay buried forever.

And with every returned smile: every lingering brush of some Caravan Trader's fingers on your arm as they tried to sell you some over-priced snake oil, every repulsive simper of a NCR trooper as they tried to buy you a bottle of vodka during your rare stops at some remote barrack, had the rot he had constructed within his soul become that little bit more mutilating.

The silence between you is deafening. And so you do something really stupid: you decide to ask him about his dirt-stained outfit.

'So', you drawl, turning yourself around so your legs are crossed out by your side, doing your best to stay firmly seated between the tensing muscles of the Ghoul's thick thighs. He draws his spurs in a line across the sand, but to your astonishment, and wild delight, he doesn't pull his legs open any further. 'Did you rob a real cowboy or something? I didn't think they were real. The only ones we ever saw were those rugged, way too contrived looking ones on those old movies.'

Your fingers curl over the edges of his collar, tentatively letting your fingers drop to rest against the sharp gap against his breastbone.

A muscle in Cooper's jaw jumps.

Oh. Oh. You'd never seen him actually angry before, behind all that cowboy western shooter charade.

For a moment, you're worried you've offended him somehow; a faraway look seems to draw him into the pale billows that smoke up from the orange flames, and a look that you've never seen before- never could even contemplate drooping the face of the suddenly so haggard looking man sitting by your side flitted across his scrunching face.

Forlorn. He looked so forlorn.

Neither of you are sure if he's even conscious of his arm moving, snaking itself across the small of your back to clutch almost painfully against the meat of your hip. His thumb strokes against the outline of your bone: probing, testing, clawing and pinching as if he had repeated the action over and over and over again in his mind.

'This? This is as old as the dirt and the worms.'

He doesn't react, doesn't move the frozen stone of his stoic face when you hesitantly grip onto his fingers, and slowly... god, so slowly, pull his glove off and drop it on the ground. Suddenly feeling so exhausted, your droop your head down against the dried sweat on your neck and watch yourself place your hand gingerly over his own, holding him in a wary vice against your side.

'What... what's a worm', you tentatively ask, your eyes wide open in worry that your question might break the provisionary affinity of this moment.

Cooper actually... snorts, a smirk threatening to break across his face as he looks out of the corner of his eye at you. 'An 'ol creature that used to live under the soil.' His eyes burn a hole into your irises, and he finally cracks out in a sallow grin as he contemplates the fact that he has your whole, enraptured attention. 'In fact, almost a whole lot like you.'

You smack his shoulder, but he only tilts his head back with an inquisitive gloat on his lips. He tips his head down, moving his other free hand to grab and squeeze the other side of your waist, making you woefully buck back against the bottom button of his shirt as the pit of your bottom begins to thrum with a devastating heat.

'Now', you can hear the teasing in his voice as he dips his spine down to hover over the shell of your ear. 'The real question is, where in the sweet hell would you have seen such heinous films such as those?'

His hand crawls like sweet spiderwebs across to your bellybutton, taking your breath away as he cups his palm against your skin and carts you back till your resting against the side of his chin, entangling you against the last vestige of the man he's entombed within the Stygian shadows.

'My ma used to show them to me and my brother if we had been extra good. She spent a whole three months saving up whatever metal scraps she could scavenge to go trade over at the General Store in Goodsprings and buy ourselves a real life television. The picture was blurry as shit, and we only had one holotape that I swear I ended up being able to quote back to front by the time I was sick of watching it. But hell, if we didn't crowd around the floor in wonder and dream about being a mysterious, rifle swinging stranger that roamed around the wastes saving people.'

Cooper purses his lips, swallowing thickly as he lassos your words in a whirlwind around his mind. After what seems like an eternity of listening to the soft whistle blow through the cartilage of his nose, of noting the quiet scurry of Bark Scorpions barbing through the pale tufts of faraway brushes, and the sound of your own heart hammering against your ribcage, each hit cracking your ribcage open with a sledgehammer, Cooper grumbles a reply.

'Y'know, there's an old saying back where I'm from - one that those folks in those movies you... respected use' to say. Feo, fuerte y formal. It means you're ugly, strong, and dignified. And shit, I can say for sure that you've got ugly ticked off that list.'

'You cheeky shit-', you start, but you can't help but shove your hand against your mouth to stop yourself from laughing. With a jolt forward over your stomach, you wince at the pain that flashes through your body at your only recently closed wounds. The Ghoul snarkily utters a tut tut, making you actually fucking whimper aloud this time when his hands grab your love handles, lifts you up, and slaps you down atop his lap. A faint slip from the curve of your buttocks sliding down to settle against his inner thigh has him hissing against the back of your head.

Even though there was no chance of it ever occurring, the Ghoul loosely clenched his fingers around your throat and tilted your head back until your throat went dry, as if daring you to move away from him again.

'Ain't your fault darlin'', he twangs out in that hoarse voice of his, his tongue flicking as smooth as molasses against the shell of your ear: his pointed edge darting a sticky trail up to your inner ear. 'It ain't your fault that you look like a molerat.'

You snort, and Cooper finds himself smiling at the sound of a noise he hasn't heard since his daughter was... since his daughter was...

'You remind me of someone I used to know, you know that? She was... she was far too sweet. Far too good for all this shit too.'

'Aha, there he is.' You wrestle out of his grasp and turn your head disbelievingly. The Ghoul looks almost taken aback, before he draws back into himself and fixes himself to stare you down. 'Finally making an appearance after all this time, are we? Good to see I'm finally getting through to you.'

'Now what the hell is that supposed to mean?', he bares his teeth, gnashing them together almost instinctively.

'I mean, I think that was as close to an honest exchange with the man inside you I'm ever going to have.'

That makes him start.

Pensively, he watches you, assessing and appraising the quirks and emotions that wander across your face as he waits for you to finish your accusation.

'And unless you stop sticking your blaster in the face of every creature that walks and talks, probably your last as well.'

The Ghoul swallows thickly, doing his best to seem as straight laced as usual, but growing more and more discourteous in his manner by the almost sinful way he's darting your eyes down to your lips and allowing them to hover there. 'Now darlin', I'm only exchanging pleasantries.'

'Is that really what you'd call yourself? And here I thought it was cantankerous.'

'Considering the literal crap-hole you grew up in I'm surprised you even know that word, now.'

'The sewers are empty, Cowboy - I'd say there's more piss on you from Dogmeat than down there. Besides, I lived in a Subway Station... asshole', you spit out at your feet, hitting the fragmented remains of one of your assailants helmet spikes.

A jab pokes at your inner thigh; the clenched thumb of the Ghoul branding into your skin as he finally looks you dead in the eyes with a cold stare. 'And there you are.'

And yet there's something. There's something lingering there, in the dark. In the swirl of his irises. In the only part of his body that still remains fully intact. Fully him. Something valorous. A convolution of steadfastness and pride. An imploringness.

'Suppose...', you inhale sharply, not realising that the two of you have managed to claw and scrape and crawl inch by inch closer to each other during your... showdown. 'Suppose', you buck your knees forward until you have enough leverage to haunch yourself up and turn, using the exertion to swivel yourself round and straddle the Ghoul's legs. Your gaze dips down to watch the purse of his strangled lips, his head slowly raising itself to unmask itself from the murk. 'That we aren't so different after all.'

Before you have time to regret your words, the stout pressure of clashing thumbs and fingers have jerked against your chin and pulled you down to smash against Cooper's mouth. Gnashing teeth pull at your bottom lip without a moment's warning, slicing down to draw blood. Cooper pulls back to snarl, before diving back in and licking away the thin trail of blood driplets that dribble down your chin dimple with the flat edge of his impoverished tongue.

Your chest rises and falls in quick succession as the man leaning his weight eagerly against your stomach ravishes you, growling as he reaches down to pull at the bottom of your thighs, and raise your knees up so he can cup your ass and knead the sweet flesh.

Part of you wants to rip his clothes off him right there and then, part of the recesses of your mind worries about the impending danger of the Wastelands: a roaming gang of looters, the unlucky shimmer that forewarns the arrival of a Nightstalker, but all of you wants to slam your hands around the side of this man's face and knock him straight to the ground with the ferocity of your kiss.

Before you can even make it past the squishing his cheeks phase, you’re distracted from your plan by the pressure point of his fingers teasingly prodding against the outline of your inseam. You can't enact your plan - you can't, not when you can feel the tip of his finger run slowly... slowly... god! So agonisingly slowly up your inner thigh. Can feel the warm, almost ruinating nibble of his top teeth against the pulse point of your neck, before he leaves an apologetic slide of his inner lip against it: something bright and burning and beautiful making the nerves of his body scream as it gnaws away at their rot.

Perhaps, perhaps there was still time for the Ghoul to exhume the mouldering remains of Cooper Howard after all.

#fallout #cooper howard #the ghoul #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard imagine #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul x reader #fallout imagine #fallout show #cooper fallout #cooper fallout imagine #cooper fallout x reader #fr though why are there so many plates in this game

[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. 

#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #the ghoul #cooper howard #fallout #fallout tv #fallout x reader #fallout x you #ghoul x reader #ghoul x you #fallout show #fallout 2024 #fallout tv series #fallout amazon #fotv #fallout series #fallout prime #the ghoul angst #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul fallout #the ghoul fluff #cooper howard imagine #fallout imagine

[htchnr]

♰ bewildered ༻ C. HOWARD.*ೃ˚ drabble

➻ masterlist. ➻ buy me a coffee!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#⋆୨🩷©2024 htchnr #⋆୨⭐️cooper howard #cooper howard x fem!reader #cooper howard oneshot #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #the ghoul oneshot #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul fallout #the ghoul x reader #walton goggins #walton ghoulgins #lucy maclean

[grugruel]

His Little Killer

Pairings: Cooper howard x f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

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

Word count: 2.9k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His lips curled against my skin, a smile-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Words, sweetheart. Use em'. .'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ugh, I'm done for.

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

[rebelliousstories]

Peachy

Relationship: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: No

Warnings: Strong Language, Brief Violence, Suggestive Themes

Word Count: 1,785

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Part Two: Pretty as a Peach

Summary: Lucy gets a front row seat to the strange happenings in the Wasteland.

It should be a crime for the day to be this hot. With the sun beating down, it felt like she was going to die rather imminently. But that Ghoul behind her back kept marching her forward whenever she tried to drop. It was not until they made it to some abandoned, two-story building, that the duo was finally able to be granted a moment’s reprieve.

“Sit down Vaultie.” The Ghoul demanded, leading the woman to sit against the worn out walls and dimpled stone. The cool rock felt blessed beneath her body. Even through her Vault-Tech suit insulated her against a lot of the extreme weather, enough was able to slip through for her to begin to cool down.

“That’s a girl. Stayin’ the night here, but I wouldn’ go wanderin’ after dark. A lotta things worse than a ghoul round here.” He spoke once more, starting to gather carve himself a little spot where he could rest.

“Where are we?” Lucy finally asked, voice rasped with dehydration and exhaustion. However, the man did not answer. He simply stretched out his long limbs, and placed his hat over his eyes in an attempt to get some sleep.

“Where are we?” She pleaded once more, to which the Ghoul was not sympathetic to.

“Hey!” Yelling now, the Ghoul picked his hat up from his eyes and set it back on his head while looking at the girl he held.

“Now, am I gonna have to cut out that tongue in order to get some peace and quiet?” Lucy was taken aback, and could not quite tell if he was joking or not. Taking his moment of silence, the man swept his hat over his eyes once more; but it did not last long. The clattering of something nearby caught the attention of the vault dweller, and surface dweller. With a heaving groan, the Ghoul stood back up, placed his hat on his head, and looked around. Lucy also tried to look, but she saw nothing out of the ordinary for the surface.

“Thou shalt get sidetracked by bullshit every goddamn time.” He muttered under his breath. Spurs clicked as he walked around and took inventory. But the clattering of a can behind him made the Ghoul pull his pistol and aim. There was nothing behind him, though. Lucy watched intently as the man surveyed his surroundings, and was just a beat too late to warn him about the shadowy figure to his back.

“Behind you!” The Ghoul did not have time to fire off a round. The figure jumped on his back, and locked on. He tried to swivel the creature off, but to no avail. Dropping to a knee, the Ghoul threw his assailant off of hm and on to the ground below. Whoever it was, they were fast. Reaching a leg up, the person managed to get him in a headlock with their legs, and rolled them around until they emerged on top. Pinning his hands down with both of theirs, the attacker shimmied out of the mask covering the bottom half of their face. It was a woman; a really pretty one at that.

“Hiya, Coop.” She teased, switching to a one handed hold on his wrists to snatch his hat off of his head. The piece of clothing was set upon her own head as a lazy smirk was pulled from his face.

“Well, if it ain’t my darling little peach.” He drawled. Once her other hand came down to rest on his wrists again, he switched their placements in the blink of an eye. Now, both of her wrists were in one of his, while his other came to rest behind her head. Cooper bucked the young woman up and off, spinning them around to pin her t the floor.

“Careful with that tone, Ghoul. Someone might think you missed me.” Once again, she was teasing. She spread her legs a little wider to accommodate him, and trailed one of them up to rest along his back. In turn, Cooper leaned down to get right up close to her face.

“Aww, we wouldn’t want that. Now would we, peaches?” A wicked smile decorated his face that she mirrored, and it seemed they were both trapped in their own little world for a time.

“How can you like him like that?” A high, feminine voice broke them free of their trance. Both Wastelanders looked over to the vault dweller with a mix of annoyance, confusion, and upset over being interrupted.

“Hope you’re not thinking of replacing me with that.” The woman, still pinned underneath the Ghoul, spoke. Her words did not sound as harsh as they should have; perhaps it was the smile that still plagued the woman’s face that offered her a softer edge that the usual surface dwellers Lucy had met thus far.

“Believe me, peach. Ain’t nothin’ able to replace you.” Cooper groaned out, letting the woman come to to sit and observe the woman before them.

“Ooo. You got yourself a Vaultie? You know how much they go for?” The woman asked, watching Lucy’s eyes widen in shock and horror. As much as she wanted to keep it going, the woman began laughing as she saw the expression on the vault dweller’s face.

“Nah, ‘m just messing with you. I ain’t got no clue how much y’all are worth. Probably a lot though. Whatcha doin’ travelin’ with this bag o’ bones?” Being friendly was confusing yet refreshing to Lucy, even as the mysterious woman remained tangled up in Cooper’s arms.

“Oh,” Lucy perked up, “well, I’m looking for my father. It’s a really long story but you are by far the nicest person I have met on the surface. My name is Lucy, and you are?” She rattled off, unable to contain her nerves or speech.

“Honestly, it’s been so long since I’ve used my real name, I’ve nearly forgotten it. He calls me peach or some variation of it so-” squeaking out, the woman turned to see that Cooper had pinched her side hard in a warning.

“Okay. Not allowed to call me that then.” She supplied her real name afterwards, and saw the vault dweller before her visibly relax.

“Now that that’s out of the way, I bring gifts.” Untangling herself from the Ghoul, she made her way to where her bag was dropped. Lucy guessed that was what they heard falling before the ‘fight’ broke out. She pulled out a few cans of food, presumably, and tossed them to Cooper, however one of the cans was tossed towards Lucy. Reading the front of the label, she took not that it was a Vault-Tech brand of pie filling.

“Sugar, you shouldn’t have.” Cooper drawled, gratefully taking the jerky and chems that were provided.

“Well, figured you’d want a little gift for all your troubles.” Effortlessly, she just kept emptying her bags. Right when you think she is done, she would pull out more from the same place. It was, honestly, a wonder.

“One last thing. Just for us tonight.” Holding a can in her hands, she pulled a knife from her belt to begin cracking it open. The label was long since gone from it, but that didn’t stop them from eagerly tearing into it. Once she was close enough, she sat down and allowed Cooper to take it from her hands. He finished the job of getting the lid off of the can, and let delight take over his scarred features.

“Now, where’d you find this, peach?” He asked, letting her tuck herself under his arm to get closer.

“Trader I went to had a whole shipment of them Georgia. Well, what’s left of it. Anyways, you should be thankful I managed to get some. That one can cost me two hundred and fifty caps.” While his eyes did not bug out of his skull, his brow area did raise considerably when he heard the price.

“Careful, peach. Someone might think you like me.” Cooper stabbed a thick, juicy slice and brought it up to the woman’s lips to let her take a bite off, before bringing the other half of the slice to his own lips. A sinful groan was released from the both of them as they allowed the sugary sweet fruit to explode. It was a taste that Cooper was not sure if he would ever taste again after the bombs destroyed the world as he knew it.

“Is that peach? Is that what it’s supposed to taste like?” She asked, hoping sh had gotten it right. The Ghoul stabbed yet another slice and repeated the process from before as he watched the woman intensely.

“Yep. That is the sweet taste of peach, alright.” With how he was staring at her, the woman was not sure that he was talking about the fruit anymore. They continued to swap the fruit back and forth as they finished the can. When it got down to the juices, she pushed the can closer to him, encouraging him to take the drink. And he did; but that was not the end of it. As he drank down the last gulp of juices from the can, Cooper grabbed her chin, pressed his lips to hers, and pushed some of the liquid into her mouth instead. She chased the taste on his lips once she had taken her drink, and let herself get lost in the moment. He pawed at the layers covering her body, but the sound of Lucy finishing her can brought them out.

“I don’t feel like having an audience tonight, cowpoke.” She whispered, breathless, against his face. The hat was still set atop her head, and it was not going to be leaving anytime soon. A yawn tore through the woman in his arms, before being caught by Lucy against the stone.

“Really startin’ to get pissed at this Vaultie, peaches.” He whispered back, pressing another kiss to her lips, before returning to their previous position.

“Get some shut eye. We leave at day break.” Cooper said with a definitive tone, leaning his head back against the wall in an effort to sleep. The woman below him cuddled herself into his chest and drifted off to sleep without a worry of being attacked in her sleep. Lucy was the last one to close her eyes, but not the last one to fall asleep. Her mind raced with questions she wished she could ask, but thought better of not asking. Hoping that the mystery woman was there in the morning, the vault dweller and surface dwellers found themselves in the land of dreams before long, hoping and trying to survive till the next sunset.

#rebelliousstories #writing #fallout imagine #fallout #the ghoul fallout #cooper the ghoul howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #cooper howard imagine #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul

[scarletttries]

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

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

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

The Ghoul:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maximus:

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

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

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

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

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

Norm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

#writing #fanfiction #requests #one shot #falllout #fallout #fallout prime #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper Howard headcanons #cooper howard one shot #cooper howard imagine #fallout the ghoul #fallout show #fallout headcanons #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul headcanons #maximus x reader #maximum headcanons #norm x reader #norm maclean #fallout norm #norm headcanons #norm maclean headcanons #norm mclean #fallout requests #fallout prime requests

[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: I caved, so here is part 2 <3! Lmk if u love this and I'll write more (feel free to leave me lots of comments and interactions, they motivate me!!)

pt. 1 | A03 | masterlist

pretty thing | 2…

“Please kindly rectify that you did not kidnap this innocent lady and you’re just— borrowing her.”

Their voices were a muffled, incoherent sound. Like ocean waves, rising and falling into pocketed parts of your brain.

“Well sweetie, I could go on n’ lie to you if it helps ya’ sleep better. Then again, I don’t much care how good you sleep.”

The sound of hissing air being breathed in with a moan, and exhaled with a grunt followed those words. The voice was familiar. Sudden, hazy flashes of the Ghoul circling you like a shark reentered your hectic mind. The other voice… it belonged to the doe-eyed brunette.

“Coop, kidnapping is wrong. Besides, what use do we have for another responsibility? What’s left of the NCR would have gladly taken her in as one of their own. Another vault, even, a good one! You’re robbing her of that choice!”

A gruff, deep hum left the Ghoul’s lips.

“Doll, I don’t give a rat’s ass bout’ the NCR. I ain’t no saint, vaultie. Rough economy these days n’ she looks like a useful lil’ thing, don’t she? Besides— she’s in a far better place than the one those underground skillet boys you like to fuck had her holed up in.“

Warmth was encasing your wounded skin, prickling at your senses. It was the most alive you’d felt… the closest you’d been to consciousness in months. Yet, you couldn’t quite pry your gaze apart.

“It’s just wrong…” the brunette whispered after a long moment’s pass.

No matter how wrong it was, well, the Ghoul didn’t much care. He knew well that Lucy would be on her way soon and he couldn’t do much to stop her. Now, he had been a lone wolf for centuries but— there was something about company that made him feel less ghoulish and more— human.

Silently, he liked that.

“You find that tin-lover of yours?” The Ghoul asked, hoping to steer Lucy’s mind away from her moral dilemmas. It worked, because her gaze lit up once more.

“Nope! But I did find some leads. Once we make our way to the city where we were headed, I’ll detour for approximately four days and then if all goes well, I’ll find you again! But with Maximus… doesn’t it sound amazing?”

The city?

“Hm. Guess so. Only thing is, tin-man could be dead by time we get to the city. Now— if I was you, I’d get gone and find him fore’ those roaches start to pick him apart.” There was a mischievous kind of joy at the idea of it, and it was laced proudly in his voice.

Silence again, warmth prickling stronger. Closer.

“But what about you, Coop?”

His laugh was a hoarse, aged and cold sound. As if to say everything his words could not. Lucy understood it immediately. She knew well that the Ghoul could hold his own. He’d done it for 200 and some years, after all. Perhaps she’d grown comfortable working as a team. Perhaps…

But Maximus…

“You’re right. Better to get a head start… what about the girl? She’s high profile. You know those keepers are gonna come right after you and they won’t stop. Us vault-dwellers can be incredibly persistent about the things we are passionate for.”

You couldn’t see it— not while you slumbered, but the Ghoul could only smirk at sweet Lucy’s words. Proud and mangled.

“Oh I know, sweetie. N’ don’t you worry bout’ pretty thing over there. She’s gon’ be well taken care of.”

A threat? A promise? An idea? Perhaps all three— perhaps all at once.

“…right. Look, I grabbed this on my way out. It’s a file— her file. Maybe you’ll figure out what you should do after you read it.”

As if the Ghoul hadn’t figured it out entirely already.

Pretty thing was worth something.

You were worth something. So? He’d do whatever he needed to so to get whatever the fuck made you so special out of you, and he’d drown in caps for it. Enough caps to buy him another century worth of yellow vials. Another century to find his family.

“Mm. Get goin’, MacLean.”

With a nod, she did— bidding farewell to dogmeat and sparing her partner another cautious glance before the sandy dunes engulfed her. Off to the city.

For the second time since you’d met him, you found yourself all alone with the mangled Ghoul. Only, you weren’t strong enough to truly see him just yet…

Pity. Cause he? Well…

He was looking right through you…

🏷️’s @isabellekenway

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x lucy maclean #cooper howard x female reader #cooper howard x y/n #the ghoul #the ghoul cooper howard #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #the ghoul x lucy #the ghoul smut #cooper howard smut #cooper howard fic #cooper howard fanfiction #cooper howard imagine #the ghoul masterlist #cooper howard masterlist #the ghoul imagine #ghoul fallout #cooper howard fallout #fallout x reader #fallout x you #fallout ghoul #fallout ghoul x reader #walton goggins #walton goggins x reader #the ghoul x oc #the ghoul fanfic #the ghoul fallout

[iwritefandomimagines]

REGRET — COOPER HOWARD/JOHN HANCOCK

masterlist

part one | part three [coming soon]

pairing: new bf!cooper howard/the ghoul x reader, ex-bf!john hancock x reader

description: you finally head to goodneighbor for a well earned rest… but hancock’s jealousy (and cooper’s possessiveness) might get in the way of that.

warnings: angst, swearing, jealous!hancock this time as well as jealous coop when you talk to him hehe.

author’s note: ok so i didn’t want hancock to be an ass (like that’s my og ghoul bf🤝) so he’s less of a prick than initially intended while cooper is… well… himself. but i hope u enjoy <3 part one linked above and smutty pt.3 coming soooon

———

“Ya sure you’re alright with this, sweetheart?”

Cooper calling you sweetheart had once ignited within you a combination of fear and excitement, never quite knowing whether he was doing so to tease you or with some semblance of affection.

Now, though, it spread warmth throughout your body — a sense of comfort knowing that he cared about you, with sweetheart being just one amongst a myriad other terms of endearment he used for you.

“‘S okay, Coop,” you tightened your grip on his arm where yours curled around it, “I got you, I’ll be fine.”

He hummed, seeming satisfied with your response as he leaned to press a kiss to your forehead, “If he so much as—,”

“He’s not gonna do anything, good or bad,” you shook your head, “He’ll probably just play the hospitable mayor and pretend he don’t know me, if anything.”

Cooper looked down at you now, trying hard to decipher your emotions.

You could tell, even after days of trying to reassure him, that he still had some fear you’d abandon him to return to a life in Goodneighbor once you saw Hancock again.

You leaned in a little closer, head resting on his shoulder as you made your way towards The Third Rail, heaving in a deep sigh at the familiar warmth it brought you.

You fought hard to ignore the stares coming your way, or the mumblings of Hancock’s men as they nodded for you to head on down.

“Alright, darlin’,” Cooper cooed, leading you to the bar, “What’dya want?”

Immediately upon replying (a bourbon, as always) you felt a shadow of a figure appear at your other side, as if he’d had a radar set for your arrival.

Cooper seemed uncharacteristically unaware for a moment as he busied himself ordering from Charlie, all while your former lover’s breath fanned over your neck.

“Well I never,” god, just hearing his voice again made your throat dry up… Even more so when you turned and saw his pained expression, “Didn’t count on ever seeing you here again. Especially not with company.”

The way he spat the last word made you shiver, unused to hearing him speak so harshly to you.

“We’ll be out of here in a few days— we just had a hell of a week,” you swallowed thickly, avoiding catching his intense gaze with yours, “I’m sorry, we shouldn’t have—,”

It was now that your travelling companion noticed the other ghoul at your side, a snide grin on his face, “Well fuck me, didn’t take ya long did it?”

Before you looked at him you’d worried this was directed at you — that he thought somehow Hancock’s presence beside you had been invited.

But one glance saw his steely gaze fixed on the man before him, simultaneously threatening as well as mocking.

“Long time no see, Mayor. My sweet lil Y/N over here told me you’d been oh so hospitable last time she was here,” his hand fell to your waist possessively, watching Hancock’s eyes follow the action, “So we’re crashing at the Rexford for a couple nights if it ain’t no trouble.”

Hancock scratched the back of his neck, contemplating how to respond.

“We can leave if you want, John,” you choked on your words as you realised your error, “Mayor.”

“‘S fine, doll,” he bit, forcing a smile for you as he glared across at Cooper, “Welcome as long as you need. Can I speak to you alone for a minute though? Won’t keep ya long.”

You looked over at Cooper, not to seek permission but just to see how the request had gone down with him.

He was less than impressed.

“Is that a good idea?” you whispered shyly, fiddling with your fingers as you eyed the floor.

“Why wouldn’t it be, sunshine?” Cooper’s teasing seemed to have extended to be at your expense now too, and though you knew it was probably just 200 odd years of loneliness impairing his filter — you had to fight back the urge to roll your eyes, “‘S okay. We’ve got a hotel room to ourselves tonight, can’t keep you to myself the whole evening, can I? Much as I can’t wait to get you alone.”

You watched Hancock kiss his teeth — he knew Cooper was just trying to get a rise out of him, but it was certainly fucking working.

He chose to ignore him.

“C’mon, darlin’. Just a minute’s all I need.”

You sighed, “One minute.”

You followed him out of the room, cautious of the privacy you were being afforded as you turned to send Cooper a shy smile.

“How long’d it take you to find him, huh?” his voice wasn’t accusatory, he just sounded sad, “I ain’t trying to start a fight, I just hoped if I saw you again we might make things right. Didn’t expect you to be with someone else.”

You scoffed, “John, you ended things between us and it really fuckin’ hurt. I’m not sure you really get to be jealous or hopeful or whatever this is.”

“I made a mistake, sunshine,” he stepped towards you, “Been layin’ off the chems a little more since you left and I’ve been seeing straighter. I missed you.”

You gulped, feeling bile rise up your throat at his words.

Months ago, you’d most likely have jumped straight into his arms and forgiven him.

Now, it pricked it your heart in a totally different way. While it comforted you to know he’d made a change since losing you, it hurt that he couldn’t have done it sooner.

Besides, you were finally happy again now — Cooper made you happy.

“It’s a little late for that, don’tcha think?” you pouted, “And I know you’re more mad ‘cause he’s a ghoul when that’s like half the reason you decided we couldn’t be together.”

“I just thought— well, think, you deserve better,” Hancock frowned, “I’m just surprised.”

You sighed, “C’mon, don’t condescend me because you’re jealous.”

“I’m not condescending you,” he suddenly looked irritated more than sad as he had before, “You’re travelling around with a fuckin’ bounty hunter who’s bad news when you were—we were happy.”

“I’m happy with my fuckin’ bounty hunter, too,” your fingers made air-quotes as you snapped at him, “Can I remind you again who ended things here?”

“Alright, you’re right. I’m being jealous, but you can’t blame me,” he sighed defeatedly, closing his eyes for a moment contemplatively, “I’m really struggling since I’ve been cuttin’ down on the chems and—,”

You laughed bitterly, “Oh so you only miss me ‘cause you need something else to fixate on?”

“Low blow, huh,” he huffed, “You were the best thing that ever happened to me, sweetheart. I miss you ‘cause you’re you. Just got a clearer mind so can’t do anything to keep you off it now.”

“John…” he was stood closer to you now, and you were trembling under his close gaze, “I’m sorry—you broke my heart for no real reason and this is just—,”

“I’m sorry for treatin’ you like you can’t make your own decisions and— well, I fucked up. I regret it more than I’ve ever regretted anything,” he chuckled at his own words, “And I’ve done a whooole lot worth regretting.”

He drew in a sharp breath as you stayed silent for a moment, waiting for some kind of response that he never received.

You stood silently, biting your lip as you tried to calm your unsteady heartbeat with deep breaths.

He unfolded his arms, raising goosebumps on your skin as his hand rested on your forearm, “Look, Y/N, I ain’t gonna do anything you don’t want, I just had to see if there was any hope—he ain’t just any ghoul, I just don’t wanna see you with the wrong people.”

Before you could reply, you heard a kerfuffle outside, low grumblings of “you can’t go in there” and “wait outside” punctuated by the door swinging open to reveal Cooper.

“The only wrong person for Y/N right now is you, Mayor, so if I were you I’d watch where your hand’s going damn carefully.”

If looks could kill, Goodneighbor would’ve been mayorless in that moment.

Hancock didn’t retract his hand though, only raising his other one to dismiss his men, “Heh, you’ve made a lapdog out of the big bad bounty huntin’ ghoul I see, sweetheart.”

You watched Cooper’s hand rest on his gun at his side, staring at him a wide-eyed.

You knew he wasn’t stupid enough to shoot the mayor and that he was merely trying to threaten him, but it panicked you all the same.

“This here might be your town, but that there is my girl,” okay, his possessiveness could be really hot, “And if ya think I’m gonna let you sweet talk her after breakin’ her pretty little heart? Well, them chems really done fucked up your brain.”

The mayor shook his head, “Oh you’ve made that quite clear, but Y/N’s a big girl and can make her own damn decisions,” he glanced over at you now, “Me and you were happy before I went ‘n’ screwed things up, you can’t blame a man for trying.”

“Well, your mission failed,” Cooper pouted teasingly as he sauntered to your side and hooked your waist to pull you in close to him.

“Oh, ‘m sure you’ve had plenty of them, cowboy,” Hancock laughed through gritted teeth, sad eyes watching you lean into your new partner’s side, “Well, we had some good times sunshine, but I can see you‘ve moved on ‘n’ it looks like I can’t do anything about that.”

You sent him a small smile, looking up at Cooper for a moment to find him watching carefully for your response.

“I’m sorry, John,” you frowned, contemplating reaching out to hug him in a tactile show of forgiveness, “You’re right, things have changed. But that don’t mean our time together meant nothing to me.”

He smiled sadly at you, eyes briefly flickering to send daggers in Cooper’s direction.

You continued, “And I hope us being here don’t cause any trouble now. I’m happy, ‘nd I want you to be as well. We’ll, uh, see you around?”

“I’m glad you’re happy, really,” Hancock cooed, “Even if it’s with him. So yeah, I’ll see you around, gorgeous. Stay safe.”

“You don’t think I can keep her safe?” Cooper challenged, hand on his hip again as he snarled at him.

Hancock scoffed, “For someone so certain she doesn’t want me anymore, you sure are determined to make this a pissing contest, aren’t you?”

“C’mon, this is ridiculous,” you huffed, “I’m right here, for fucks sake. Right now I just need a drink, so if you guys are gonna carry on like this I’ll just go get one on my own, I guess.”

Hancock heaved in a deep sigh, itching for a hit of Jet given all the tension this conversation had left lingering in the room.

He didn’t want to fight over you like a possession, and he knew that really Cooper didn’t either.

“‘M sorry, Y/N,” he stepped back, turning to walk away, “Go on. I’ll see you soon.”

“Wouldn’t count on it,” Cooper hummed, and you nudged his side at the continued warpath he seemed to be on, “Now c’mon sweetheart, we got a hotel room to get to.”

———

ok so this ended with cooper pissing you off in order to make way for makeup sex in part 3 basically hehe. im not sure how i feel so will probs come back to edit but i hope you enjoyed!!! feel free to request more… ive got a fluffy hancock fic almost finished too <3 in the meantime here’s my masterlist. x

#john hancock #john hancock x sole survivor #john hancock imagine #john hancock x reader #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #cooper howard imagine #the ghoul #fallout #fallout imagines #the ghoul imagine

[geeks-universe]

The Fallen pt. 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Cooper Howard x F!Angel!Reader

A/N: This contains smut.

Cooper was angry.

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

Now, he was furious.

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

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

You’d noticed though.

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

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

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

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

“You should rest.”

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

“Ain’t as delicate as you.”

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

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

“Coop-“

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re jealous.”

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

You were his.

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

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

Your eyes flashed- hurt, followed quickly by anger.

Good.

He wanted you angry.

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

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

That wouldn’t do.

He wanted you unraveled, raw.

“Runnin’ won’t change a damn thing.”

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

“You’re such an ass.”

The smirk he flashed was cruel.

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

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

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

Bingo.

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck you.”

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

And wasn’t that a damn sight.

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

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

He wanted to take a bite.

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

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

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

“Don’t act all innocent now.”

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

Holy fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

This, though…

This was a whole different beast.

Fuck.

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

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

Reality had never been this nice.

“My filthy girl.”

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

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

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

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

It wasn’t enough.

This wasn’t enough.

He needed more.

Needed all of you.

“You are mine.”

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

Fuck, his body was singing.

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

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

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

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

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

A breath.

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

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

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

So you did.

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

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

“Oh, fudge, are you two okay?”

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

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

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

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

“Your hat’s on the ground, there.”

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

“So-“

“Leave it.”

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

But it wasn’t space he wanted.

It was you.

It was your voice, so gentle and melodic.

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

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

He didn’t want to.

Didn’t want that, any of it.

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

Let Cooper Howard die.

But it wasn’t that simple.

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

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

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

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

What did it mean?

Did you hate him?

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

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

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

Not now.

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

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

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

If you killed him, so be it.

“Cooper,” you breathed.

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

You didn’t.

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

This was with compassion, with something that resembled fondness.

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

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

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

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

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

Tags: @lacontroller1991 @giggle-shade

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

[sixx-sixx-sixx]

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

EDIT; FOLLOW @bonafideyapper FOR FUTURE PARTS

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

(this is part one of some) - part 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[htchnr]

♰ dyin' for a taste ༻ C. HOWARD.*ೃ˚

➻ masterlist. ➻ buy me a coffee!

CW ➻ unprotected sex ⋆ rough sex ⋆ creampie ⋆ knife kink ⋆ cutting ⋆ blood kink ⋆ blood consumption ⋆ slight overstimulation ⋆ Cooper might wanna eat you whole ⋆ if i missed anything, lmk!

SUMMARY ➻ you two stay in a hotelroom to get some good shut eye, but instead you find yourselves finally working through the heavy tension the only way you know how to. WC ➻ 1K~.

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

"oh fuck-" you moaned, eyes rolling back as he plowed into you relentlessly. the cold metal of the sharp knife pressed to your throat and the cold counter you were seated on only adding to the pleasure somehow.

you tilted your head up a little, almost subconsciously trying to get away from the knife— despite knowing he wouldn't harm you with it. he wouldn't, would he?

the way his half lidded eyes are fixed on the knife against your throat, you weren't entirely sure. but the way his cock was slamming into you blurred any fear you had— you felt like you could die fine like this, with his cock bullying your insides, and a rough hand holding your waist bruisingly.

"come on darl'," he rasped against your ear. "bet your blood tastes as sweet as your lips." he grins sickly, his yellow teeth on full display.

his voice almost makes you want to give in— lean into the knife as he slits your throat, fucking you into hell as he laps at the fountain of blood— the way he's fucking you almost has you dreaming for it to happen.

your back arches as his aching head brushes against your cervix, throat pressing ever more into the knife. a whimper leaves your lips as you feel the knife ever so slightly slice your skin. blood almost immediately starts to slowly drip down, his eyes practically lighting up at the sight.

"would you look at that, want me to taste you that bad sweetheart?" he groans, his pace faltering slightly.

you whimpered, clenching around him erratically— you didn't want to be this turned on, but my god did you want to give him anything he'd ask for.

you nodded, the knife only digging into the small wound more, more blood dripping from it and dripping onto your breasts. he has never seen a more beautiful sight than that.

he groans, eyes still glued to the wound, reluctantly pulling the bloodied knife from your throat, dropping it beside you as his now free hand grabs the back of your neck, pulling you in closer by it. you let out a high pitched moan as his pace slows down and gets deeper.

you're almost embarrassed by the sound that escapes you when his radiation thinned lips attached to your chest, sucking up the the spilled blood. you're almost even more embarrassed of how much the moan he lets out turns you on— the sound so pleasured, as if he's just tasted the best thing in existence.

"if only you could taste yourself darl', sweet 'n rich. you might be my new favourite flavour." he moans against your chest, tongue lapping up the small stream of blood all the way up your throat until he reaches the source.

you didn't even see your climax coming until it hit you— the sensation of his cock rearranging your guts and his almost none existent lips painfully sucking on the wound like his life depends on it have you crashing over the edge so violently you almost see stars.

"that's it darlin', mm that's it." he coaxes in a groan, hips stuttering from the way you're pulsing around him.

he's not far behind— the way your walls are suffocating him and the way your blood drips down his throat has him fucking into you in a frenzied state. hip bones thudding into yours in a dull, almost pleasurable pain.

"i wish i could taste you all day, suffocate in your sickly sweet taste, drown in it." he rasped against your throat, his voice strained as he plows into you.

"please Cooper," you cry, thighs trembling and your head feeling light headed. "please please please," you didn't even know what you were pleading for at this point— your head swimming with pleasure and overstimulation as tears rolled down your cheeks and joined the blood on your chest.

"aw, look at my darlin' cryin' so sweetly for me," he groaned, thin bloody lips kissing the tears away— leaving bloody lip stains across your skin. if only you could see yourself like this— bloody lips all over your cheeks like a sick painting.

his hips stuttered and you knew he was close. your fingers digging into his scarred biceps as he his pace sped up, pathetic whimpers and cries leaving you as you shook against him— clinging on to him.

"gonna fill you up, fuck i might suck you dry while i'm at it my sweet sugar." he lapped at your throat, his hips stuttering before they come to a halt— slamming into you for the final time as he cums.

his thin lips wrapped around the wound as he paints your walls white with his cum, slowly fucking it into you as he laps up the blood around his lips as he savors it.

he pulls away from your throat and you fall over into his arms, head laying on his shoulder as you both try to catch your breath. he holds you against him, savouring the blood on his teeth as he breathes in and out deeply.

the hotelroom is almost entirely silent besides the sound of heavy breathing, you've collapsed almost entirely against him, panting and fighting the slight lightheaded feeling.

after some time he pulls you off him, holding your face. "darlin'?" he asks, angling your face to look at him. "we doin' okay?" you blinked slowly, sluggishly nodding. he leans in, pressing his mouth to yours. you tiredly moan at the coppery taste invading your senses as his tongue swirls around yours.

he pulls away, thumb rubbing circles into your cheek. "let's get cleaned up, yeah?" you nod, your head swimming as you're trying to focus on him.

he snakes an arm around your waist, the other resting under your ass when he picks you up— walking over to wnat looked like a bathroom with some rags for towels still hanging around, your blood smearing across his thickly scarred chest in a way he hopes to never forget.

TAGLIST : @live-logs-and-proper @looonytooons @seeingstarks @thewastelandwriter @lacey-mercylercy @marina-and-the-memes @p4rsuade @anonymous-creep @likoplays

#⋆୨🩷©2024 htchnr #⋆୨⭐️cooper howard #cooper howard x fem!reader #cooper howard oneshot #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #the ghoul oneshot #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul smut #the ghoul fallout #the ghoul x reader #fallout tv #fallout tv series #walton goggins #walton ghoulgins

[grugruel]

Say it Again

Pairings: Cooper Howard x f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: For a long time, there'd been a quiet, reciding fondness between you and your companion. And when you finally journey back to your old vault, feelings are stirred from the depths and brought to the surface.

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: (mentions of blood, violence, death), angst, pinv sex, passionate sex, strong feelings, "I love you", pet names (darlin', sweetheart, honey), hair pulling (squint and you'll miss it), overstimulation, creampie, praise (both recieving).

AN: Not yet proofread! Let me know what yall think about the music inserts. I figured since its such a big part of the fallout universe, I might aswell ad it in a fic too! Enjoy yall!!

The vault was open. . . It took my mind a few moments to wrap around the idea.

The thought of it being perpetually shut was so hard-wired into my being that I would've thought the gaping door a hallucination had it not been for my own departure a few months prior.

And I knew- I knew it ment nothing good. But perhaps they'd all left–alive, wandering the wasteland in search of better luck–a better life.

♪ Yes, pretending that I'm doing well

A familiar melody rang faint, barely reaching through the howling wind as it sang up a storm of scorching sand, whipping and tearing at my clothes.

In abivalence, I made my way toward the facade. Eyes examining the number 33 written in a bold, weathered font on the hefty external door.

A pang of guilt hit me–maybe I shouldn't have left, maybe I could've prevented whatever happened here. With the inhale of a calming breath, I stepped up to the construction, running the flat of my palm along the beaten but familar metal.

Then, without so much as a single thought of caution, I stepped over the threshold. The safety of a vault- my vault, was too fresh in my mind. That allong with the trust I placed in the hands of my shadow, suspecting his vigilance to be enough for the both of us.

Tracing the cool, grand archway with my fingertips as I entered, feeling the wear of oxidisation on its surface. Such a small detail I'd never payed any mind to before. How aged it was, yet still standing strong. A reminder of its resilience- of its impenetrable metal, planned to withstand outside threats for hundreds of years. And now, there it stood–wide open. The derision of the situation nagged me terribly.

♪ I'm lonely but no one can tell

When no longer veiled by the wind, the song sang clearly, its notes reverberating throughout the metal in a forboding fashion. Setting off a feeling of unease in the pit of my stumache.

While I stood familiarising myself again, I could feel a pair of eyes watching me, observing me. Monitoring my grief-struck and conflict ridden mind with a commiserating gaze. Their constant and reassuring prescence hovering behind me in semblance of a specter, keeping a respectful distance as my mind worked through what might have transpired while I was away.

♪ Oh yes, I'm the great pretender

The volume grew stronger as we made our way inside, my feet moving with slight hesitation as they clanged along the grated flooring.

♪ Adrift in a world of my own ♪

Stepping on the elevator, I steadied myself against the railing, feeling it vibrate beneath my hands with the frequency of the music. Those sweet well-known tunes only growing more and more eerie as we descended, accompanied by that strange constant hum from the bedrock, from the quiet. A white noise that only lived in vast open constructions such as this. Inhabiting the walls, the floor, and open spaces made from metal and stone.

A shiver ran down my spine, I'd never liked the quiet, despite the volume of the music, the quiet resounded. It'd always made to much noise in my mind.

♪ You've seen and you've left me to dream all alone

But when the doors opened to the floor below, a reassuring hand placed itself on the small of my back, amicably giving me a final push when I'd stood too long hesitating.

And it helped, it really did. The eclipsing stillness of the vault and the distorting of the music softened, fading and returning to that of good times–when they'd still existed.

♪ Too real is this feeling of make-believe

But the possibilities of what I might find ahead launched a gruesome assault on my mind. I tried distracting myself–thud, thud, thud. Our dull steps tapped against the floor. A pair of spurs clicking along with the steady rythm, leather groaning. Turns out I could only hear him, and I prefered it that way.

♪ Too real when I feel what my heart can't conceal

It was a better focus then the constant searching for bloodsplatter and unmoving bodies, splayed out on the floor or tucked into a corner, seeking shelter, protection–spurs, leather-

I snapped back, the lyrics echoing in my mind and bouncing of the walls simultaneously, resonating throughout the empty halls as I jumped off of that dark train of thought before it could spiral further. The hands scrunched the fabric of my clothes, silently checking on me, attempting to refocus my mind. On the music, on him, anything was better.

♪ Yes, I'm the great pretender

I followed the words, thinking of the ones before and those to come. I still remember the list of songs. They'd played during weddings and social gatherings. We had them in our houses. I remember dancing in the kitchen, with swaying to the music with those I love. It was one of those moments which you knew you'd remeber forever, which would become a core part of you. Always to be looked back on, and sure enough.

I could't help myself from smiling, such fond memories. In my peripheral, his eyes softened. Still keeping his vigilant watch over my well-being, returning my smile with no intention of ever telling me, unkowing that I had indeed noticed him as he did so.

♪ Yes, just laughing and gay like a clown

But now, as I wandered the abandoned halls of the vault, they were only a tragic reminder of a time gone by–yet, I could see no bodies, no evidence of a fight or struggle–relief flooded through me. However, I still didn't dare make my way down to the compost section, I'd walked that path to many times on my last day here.

♪ I seem to be, what I'm not, you see

The hand angainst my back brushed my clothed skin with a thumb, circling a vertebra, moving to squeeze my arm as it then fell back to his side. The loss of his touch was dissapointing, but the closeness of his body made up for it.

We took a turn, away from the chance of decaying bodies and toward the fields of crop. I wanted to see it one last time, remember that last wedding–the good times, before I left and the place had become this, before it was reduced to a graveyard of memories.

♪ And I'm wearing my heart like a crown

I found my eyes wandering as we walked, constantly sliding to the man beside me. An aching arose in my heart, the two of us could've been something real sweet. Something true, something strong. If only we had the freedom of chance and opportunity. But as it were, we simply coexist, solely striving to survive in a world swallowed up by nuclear waste and feral brutality. I don't know what I would've done without him, it was a long road for us to grow this close–we didn't get along too well when we first met.

♪ Oh yes, I'm pretending and praying that you're still around

The music tunes out, fading into quiet nothing, like dust particles leaving rays of light–simply seizing to exist. I felt the comparison too familiar for my liking, turns out anything is just a methapor for something else.

After waiting patiently and biding it's time, that strange hum takes up again. Making me wish he'd hold me steady, a d let the drumming of his heart be the only thing I hear. A wish that frequented my mind a lot as of late.

It's interesting how much you learn about yourself and the world when leaving the safety of your vault. The most ironic thing–radiation, and the fact that its the least to be worried about on the surface, the real danger being what dwells in the midst of it. Creatures–beasts, savages and monsters. The rad mutated animals are nothing compared to the barabarians that the human species have become, I really had no idea what stripping someone of their basic needs and a guaranteed future could do to a person before I entered the wasteland. And now, I cant help but marvel at the fact that only a few have resorted to eating eachother and worshipping radiation.

Dog-eat-dog is an old expression that comes to mind. Apparently it was used way before all of this befell us, and I can't help but imagine how bad we could've been back then to create such a phrase in a law-abiding society. But they were the poeple to destroy the world and we to rebuild it, so perhaps its not that strange after all.

Either way, I don't remember it personally. I wasn't alive back then, but it was told to me by someone who was.

The next song started up, the sorrowful tune keeping the deafening white noise at bay, and as I had predicted the list, it was my favorite to be played.

♪ There's a place where lovers go

To cry their troubles away ♪

The tape, surely damaged–played a slower version than I remembered, but it was all the same to me as I let it envelop me in a veil of comfort before finally laying eyes on what we'd come here for–corn. I felt their green stems beneath my fingers as I walked along the field, it was a miracle they were even alive and surviving whatever hardships they'd encountered. Another metaphor.

There came a rustling behind me, my companion doing the same as I had. A scarred hand reaching out to slide his fingers through the crop, keeping a stunned expression on his face, the corners of his lips curling upward.

♪ And they call it Lonesome Town

Where all the broken hearts stay ♪

It must've been a long time for him since feeling something living like this. Much, much longer than it had for me. And I'd just taken it all for granted.

Keeping our pace, we followed the path through the crops until fianlly, the familiarity of a huge wall welcomed me home.

Surrounding me was a vast sky with millions of stars and endlessly stretching mountains, following a path so distant I could not spot the end, all the while the high moon cast silvery blue light upon the world. A projection of the Nebraskan countryside. I used to stare at it for hours, dreaming myself away to a place that no longer existed. 'Did it really look like this? The world- I mean.' I hatched out of me.

♪ You can buy a dream or two

To last you all through the years ♪

'It sure did.' My companion turned to face me, choosing a lesser view over the pretty one before him. He was a mere arms-length away. 'It could be real beautiful.' He said, his eyes roaming my face.

♪ And the only price you pay

Is a heart full of tears ♪

He was a brute, that is true. He was the outcome of living through literal hell, but he'd fared quite well through it all in my opinion. He had his humanity left, which is more than I can say for the majority of the population. Charming and quick-witted, dangerous and cold. He'd seen who we were and what we had become, it's no wonder he acted the way he did. But it was all the same to me, he was strong and handsome, he could even by kind-hearted at times, and I loved him through it all.

♪ Goin' down to Lonesome Town

To cry my troubles away ♪

The implication made me blush, and shy away from his eager eyes while I averted my own, leading them back to the contryside. 'I wish I could've seen it.' I tried to focus, studying the sight meticulously, jotting down every detail in my mind. I hadn't had time the last time I was here- not to dwell. Too late now it seemed, the memory resurfacing with a passion as my eyes drifted over the scorching cloud in the sky, burned into the irreplaceable film. My lips drew into a thin line as I swallowed, it was reality, it was life. But it didn't stop my stumache from churning, the stench of wet metal revisiting my nose.

♪ Goin' down to Lonesome Town

To cry my troubles away ♪

A scarred hand reached up to brush strands of hair from my face, again, distracting me mercifully. Rough knuckles gently sliding over my cheek and the neighing of my jaw. 'I wish you could too.' He grasped my chin between this thumb and index finger, tilting my face upwards, our gazes meeting eachother.

♪ In a Town of broken dreams

The streets are filled with regret ♪

I leaned into his touch, for it was rare. Rare that he allowed himself simple pleasures such as touching me, even though I would willingly give myself to him at a moments whim. 'I love you.' I whispered. 'Please, please let me.'

♪ Maybe down in Lonesome Town

I can learn to forget ♪

The music glitched, the sound warping spookily as the needle scratched and jumped the groves in the needle. Shutting off for a second and then coming back on, restarting the song.

He shook his head, eyes uncharacteristically soft as met mine. Uncharacteristic to anyone but me. 'I can't feel ya', sweetheart.' He reclaimed his hand and took a step back, squeezing it into a fist, frustration shaking it as he cursed himself. The music tuned out, and all I see was the blue light contrasting his red-burnt skin, enforcing its texture as shadows settled in the contours and the pale silver on his high points. All I could hear were his words, the frustration and insufficiencies hinding in his tone, mirroring my own. 'Can't feel your fuckin' softness, cant feel your skin.'

'You can–' I followed his movement, gaining on the distance he'd created between us. '–it might not be ideal, but it's us.' I slid my fingers along his clothed arm, grabbing his coarse hand.

'I'm here, not perfect, and that's what you can feel. Imperfection. . . It's something that belongs to us.' I gave him a faint smile, doing my best to reassure him. To truly make him understand.

'I dont deserve you.' He leaned his forehead against mine, his cowboy hat sliding up his head as he did so.

It was my turn to shake my head now. 'Oh, but if you only knew what you desvered.' My voice broke, eyes watering. 'The world, coop. You've been through so much, you survived the bombs dropping for fucks sake, and the following 200 years after that. What you did during those years was for your own survival, please do not ever feel bad about any of it.' The silence that ensued became too long, too deafening. 'I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, so beautiful in your own right.' A tear fell down my cheek.

'I dont feel bad 'bout it sweetheart, thats the problem. I aint any of that, 'm a selfish killer. There's nothin' left of who I were–the good part. . .' his hand slid down my arms, squeezing my biceps to emphasize. '. . .what little good there was, it died a long time ago.' His drawl thick as he spoke, kissing my forehead. 'You can do better, 'n I cant allow those precious years of yours to go to waste on somethin' like me.' He wrapped his arms around me, placing one hand on the back of my head, cradeling it to his chest as he pulled me close, resting his chin on top of my head. The wetness of my cheeks transfering to his shirt. 'Don't cry, sweetheart. Dont cry 'cause of me.' He kissed my forehead again, working his way downward–cheekbone, jaw and finally–my lips.

His hands slid down the outline of my body, shoulders and ribs, then settled on my waist. He pulled me closer, deepening the kiss in the same motion.

♪ Maybe down in Lonesome Town

I allowed him to kiss me for too long, I allowed him to believe his own words for too long. I pulled free, tearing away to breathe, to lock my eyes on his. 'I dont want who you were, dont you understand?' I cup his face, truly feeling him beneath my fingers, and loving every bump and dent. 'I want who you are now, scars and all. It's not for you to allow me anything. Get that in your head.' My voice had gone harsh, and even though he needed to hear it with all the conviction I muster, I added 'Please. . .' As softly as I could.

♪ I can learn to forget

The last notes of the song died out.

He shook his head as a small, breathless, humorless chuckle erupted from his lips. '. . .I love you too. . .'

♪ Only you

The next song started, the voice vibrating through his bones. A song he'd danced to when it was first released, twirling a life that no longer existed in his arms. He closed his eyes, humming along to the tune as he embraced the memory, arms wrapping tightly around its waist, hugging it lovingly one last time. Then let go.

♪ Can do, make this world seem right

He mouthed the words as he opened his eyes, finding her sweet face looking up at him, his pretty girl. It'd taken him more than he wished to admit, to say those three words. How such meak and fruitless words had cause him so much turmoil, he didn't know.

♪ Only you

Because when he looked at her now–stars projecting in her glimmering eyes, the wetness of tears remaining on her cheeks, anf with the backdrop of a countryside from a bygona era–the prevailing feeling was grief, a mourning over the precious time wasted, time he could've spent in admitant love with her. Holding her, kissing her, loving her. Things he just hadn't allowed himself to concede to, to fall slave under it. To truly feel it from the bottom of his heart–instead, reciding in the pit of it, in some dark, tucked away corner, was the feeling of being lesser and undeserving of her softness, her own kind heart.

♪ Can do, make the darkness bright

'Come.' She said, a faint smile on her lips as she grabbed his hand, pulling him with her. Away from the corn, away from Nebraska. He followed her willingly, blindly trusting her as she pulled him to wherever. He didn't care, as long as he was with her.

♪ Only you and you alone

The music grew fainter, devolving into a sweet hum, a lullig as the distance of the speakers tossed the sound boucing after them, echoing along the vaults longevous walls while they moved through them.

He turned her hand over as they walked, observing it quietly as he rubbed gentle circles into the plush skin of her hand, admiring what softness he could feel, his distorted hands dulling the sense unbareably.

♪ Can thrill me like you do

But it didnt matter in the end. Imperfection is what she'd said, and it belonged to them. His heart ached, eyes drifting over the small form leading him. The way her hair swayed and body moved, he could feel himself harden. Guilting himself. It was love for a woman, a family, that had once driven him to survive- with that life now long gone, it was that beautiful girl infrontnof him that kept him going.

♪ And fill my heart with only love for you

They passed several doors with accompanying mailboxes, until she slowed and halted her steps so suddenly, she almost collided with his chest. Her form stood frozen, contemplating, just as she'd done when they first entered the vault.

A scorched finger rose up to stroke her cheek. 'You alright, sweetheart?'

♪ Oh, only you

'Mhm. . .' She hummed. 'One moment.' And whipped around to face him, opening his saddlebag to rummage through it.

Unsuspectingly, a blush crept it's way up her cheeks, seemingly caused by the intent gaze he focused so tightly on her.

♪ Can do, make all this change in me

They'd just kissed, professed their love. Yet, it was his closeness, his warm breath against her that made her blush. He'd never want to be anywhere else. His gaze wandered, studying the home they stood infront of. Eyes landing on a mailbox, he read the full name aloud with a loving smile on his lips.

'I like the way it sounds when you say it.' She whispered, a coy smile on her lips. Suddenly- her eyes widened, finding what she'd been looking for, she pulled the object out of the bag, holding it up for him to see. An old pipboy.

"Welcome" it read, and as she turned one of the kogs, the door to the house opened.

♪ For its true

It was exactly the way I remembered it, not a detail out of place–rather an added layer of dust coating every surface of the place.

I ran a finger along the top of my scratched desk, gathering a pillow of dust on top of it. And then I saw it, standing lonely and abandoned–my old radio. Glee filled me as I turned it on, reflecting the song that was already playing outside. Filling my little house with soft waves of sweet tunes, all thr while weighing my heart terribly. Strong nostalgia splitting me in two. 'I used to love dancing.' The words left my lips in a soft murmur. 'Some of my favorite memories are from this kitchen, and now. . .' My voice broke. Inspected the dust and rubbed it between my fingers, observing how it crumbled to the floor. Perhaps another meatphor–how I myself am responsible for my old life crumbling.

♪ You are my destiny

A pair of hands found my waist, a chin coming to rest on my shoulder. He pulled me close, my back thudding against a strong chest. 'Its alright. . .' He breathed against my neck. 'We can make new ones.' Kissing my skin softly as he began moving with the music.

♪ When you hold my hand

My lips curled into a smile as I declined my head against his chest, snaking my hand behind his neck as the other fell on top of his hand, squeezing it with gratefulness. 'Thank you.' I whispered.

♪ I understand the magic that you do

He twirled me around, luring a giggle to erupt. He caught and pulled me close again, this time face to face. His eyes were still so clear, such a stark contrast to his muddled skin.

♪ You're my dream come true

The lyrics seemed to speak for us as my fingers interlocked behind his neck, my thumbs brushing his jaw. While his hands squeezed my sides, exhaling a long breath as we swayed, his eyes intently searching mine. 'I love you, sweetheart.'

♪ My dream come true

Without hesitation, my lips met his. 'Then prove it to me Coop. . .' Coyness tugged on my lips, my hands sliding to the buttons of his vest, '. . . Let me feel it.'

♪ Oh-oh, only you

He grinned against my lips. 'Anyhtin' for my girl.' And his hands wrapped around mine, helping them unbutton his clothes, skiding them off of him. Barechested as he was, he twirled me again. Back to chest, he whispered in my ear, 'Your turn, darlin'.'

♪ Can do, make all this change in me

Gladly, with my hands still guided by his touch, I brushed them along my torso, undoing every button of my shirt as I did so and slid it off my shoulders, my bra coming off next. He cupped them eagerly, a groan leaving his lips as he massaged them. Ingiting a pulse deep in my uterus. The music seemed to tune out off my mind, selective hearing I suppose.

Moaning in response, I could feel him harden as he pressed his hips into my ass. 'Need to feel it.'

'Undress.' Was all he said, removing his own clothes as I did mine.

A short moment later, he had my back pinned against a wall and my legs wrapped around his hips as he held me up with a firm arm around my waist–the other busy lining himself up with my core.

Suddenly- he pushed inside, leaving me as a whimpering mess. 'Good girl, sweetheart. . .' He whispered, doing nothing to ease the aching matter. '. . .sound so pretty for me.'

And without warning, he pulled out, and thrusted back into me again with full force. 'Mmh- Fuck!' I cried out. But his lips were on mine before I could fully register how big he was. Again and again, he trusted right into my core. His tongue fighting for control as it battled my own. My body was aching with a burning want for him, a need so strong I already felt myself closing in on my orgasm. '. . .'M gonna cum, Coop. Slow down, p- please. I stuttered the words, strained breaths dividing the sentence.

'Its ok sweetheart, you're doin' so well.' He reassured me, then took my words as a direct command and pushed us off the wall, walked over to the bed and threw us onto it with a cloud of dust kicking up around us.

Obiding my request, he backed up, hooked my legs over his shoulders and re-entered me with a shuddering moan. The feeling of my core effecting him as badly as his member effected me. With one hand burried in my hair, the other palmed a breast while his lips found my neck, gently taking my skin between his teeth as he pushed so deep inside me I almost screamed, but managed to bite my lip to keep quiet. That's when I felt him shake his head against me. 'Don't go all quiet, let me hear ya', honey.'

And so I did, releasing a string of curses disguised as moans while I wrapped my arms around his neck, placing kisses on his cheek while nuzzling my face against him. But I felt that blinding pressure building again, slower this time, but with an unrelenting force.

His warm breaths against my neck accompanied by the feeling of him inside me and the slick sound we created had my head swimming. It was too much, too fast. But this time, I wanted it. '. . .'M close Coop.' I whimpered.

'Me too, honey. Real fuckin' close.' He panted, voiced muffled as he kissed and sucked at my neck, hands fisting my hair and squeezing my breast. His thrusts began faltering as we both approached climax. 'Fuck, feel so good.' He cursed, groaning the words in my ear as our bodies rocked together, moving in sync. I was aflame, the pulsing in my body acting the accessory to his own members pulsing inside me. My eyes screwed shut, he felt so fucking good it was a simple reflex.

He kissed his way along my throat, pulling on my hair to angle my jaw for him, his lips trailing along it's sharps points, then up my cheek, settling in my lips. 'Look at me.' He breathed.

I wanted to listen to him, but my eyes did not. The pleasure was to much, the wall inside me so near collapsing-

'Look at me, sweetheart.' He ordered again, his voice sharper this time.

Having no other option I forced myself to open them. But it was worth it, listening to Cooper always was.

'Good girl.' He praised, his lips colliding with mine. And that wall burst, his words being the final battering ram. Tidal waves of pleasure rolled through me, roiling like crashing waves inside me. 'Love you, sweetheart.' He moaned.

No words would ever spur me on like those ones did, my uterus was quaking with every act of him. 'Say it again.' I pleaded.

'I love you' he whimpered. . . Whimpered. Strong and dangerous as he was, he whimpered as he came inside me. His rocking thrust strained as he continuing rutting into me, doing his best to lead us through our orgasms.

'Good boy, Coop. Again. . . Please.' I begged.

And he listened, repeating the words "I love you" against my lips, his voice pitching and breaking from the sheer pleasure he was submitted to. And when moving to softly nip at my ear, he whimpered those same three words in my ear over and over again until I felt a wetness on my cheeks–tears, I realised. He was overstimulating himself, crying as he made love to me. 'Fuck-' he shuddered the word, the slickness he'd created only coaxing more sounds out of him. 'Love you real fuckin' hard, darlin'. . .' He cried again. And I could've reached a second orgasm from that alone.

'I love you too Coop, love you so much. Youre so good to me.' I reassured him, my own voice near a cry as he was putting me through the ringer in the process. Finally, he began slowing down, his entire body shuddering from the way my insides clenched around him, milking the juies out of him. He kissed me one final time, then pulled out and collapsed beside me.

I had to take a moment to collect myself before turning to face him, my hand reaching up to brush the wetness from his cheeks.

His eyes met mine, both full of unconditional love. We laid like that for some time, loosing ourselves in eachothers gazes as we regarded one another in silent contemplation. All the while I could feel his seed leaking out of my core. 'You're a good man, Cooper Howard.' I whispered.

'I do what I can to deserve ya', sweetheart. The day I'm anythin' else but good to you-' He began. But I stopped him, not wanting his thoughts to walk down that road.

'You'll never be anything but good, Coop.' I inclined my head, kissing him softly before I nuzzled my head into the crook of his neck. 'Don't forget it.' My voice a murmur against his strong neck as I slowly drifted off to sleep within the safety of his embrace.

♪ We'll meet again

Hand in hand, our gazes stay on the halls infront of us as we walk back the way we came.

♪ Don't know where, don't know when

My eyes were on the sand as we left, attempting to distract myself by studying the way the the kernels dent beneath my weight. But with a deep breath, I stop and raise my pip-boy clad arm, looking back toward the falling night, toward the empty timecapsule.

♪ But I know We'll meet some sunny day

The words once again faint as they stab through the howling wind. I turn a kog on the pip-boy, and the vault door rolls into motion. The world around us painted in red-pinkish hues as the door's mechanics shut in the echoing vocals completley, the entrance closing with a heavy, reverberating grating sound.

I can feel my heart thudding hard, beating with a sadness and re found happiness. Revisiting my old home had given me melancholy and a new love. 'You coming?' The voice was soft, considering–unwilling to leave my mind wandering through old, lonely thoughts.

'Let's go.' I murmured, my eyes still on the weathered number 33 as the wind whipped at my cheeks.

'Look at me, sweetheart.' my love drawled, gathering my attention, and I redirect my gaze to his. 'We'll come back.'

I nod. 'We will.' A faint smile make its way to my lips as I stood on my toes to place a kiss on his lips.

Then, with his hand in mine, we wandered the wasteland. Searching for better luck–a better life.

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

[rebelliousstories]

Not Like The Movies

Relationship: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Violence

Word Count: 1,688

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: How Cooper got landed with someone of her sunny disposition, he will never now. And it does not help that she knows his films.

“Good morning, you cutie. Oh who’s the best little girl ever?” A feminine voice brought Cooper out of his deep slumber. His eyes had to adjust to the bright light outside that flooded the building they had stayed the night in. He looked around for the source of the noise and was relieved to see it was just his partner playing with DogMeat. The man sat up from the bed that was miraculously in the building that probably used to be someone’s house and began to roll the sleep from his muscles and bones.

“Well, good morning to you, cowpoke.” She greeted, allowing the dog to roam around wherever she pleased.

“Mornin’ sweetheart. Whatcha doin’ up this early?” He asked, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His boots hit the floor right next to where his partner was, as she sat up on her knees to pull him in close. Physical affection was something Cooper was still not used to after all this time, but he was slowly coming around to it. All of the affection happened behind closed doors, or in this case, a closed house. He still had an image to maintain after all.

“Couldn’t sleep, so I spent some time with Bella.” She said cheerfully into his chest. Cooper just sighed and rubbed his eyes.

“Don’t go naming the thing. Then you’ll get too attached and then you’ll be depressed when it dies.” He groaned out, shifting their bodies so their eyes met.

“But she can’t be named ‘DogMeat’. That’s not a proper name,” came her cry. She laid on the puppy eyes really thick.

“DogMeat is a proper name because that’s what it is.” He argued back, tilting her head up by her chin.

“Fine,” she relented, and smushed her face back into his chest. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“Well, gotta head into town now. Stock up on some supplies, gather a new bounty hopefully.” Cooper pressed a kiss to her hair, and shuffled so that he could pull both of them up to stand.

“You gonna behave when we get into town?” He drawled, voice leaning into dangerous territory. His partner giggled and nodded her head.

“Of course, Coop. When am I not?” She inquired, biting her lower lip. That woman knew the easiest way to get Cooper riled up was to do just that motion right there. Because, in an instant, his eyes were locked on to her lips.

“What about back in Filly where you kept smilin’ at folks, leaving me to save you from someone’s fist in your face? Huh?” Howard recalled, watching her shift in his arms as she, too, recounted their last adventure into town.

“How was I supposed to know?” Her whimper made Cooper weak, but he had a job to do today.

“Just tone down the sun a little bit, alright? Maybe a nice cloudy day instead of bright ass sunshine.” He offered, bringing her face back up to his. She nodded and stood on her toes to reach his face. Cooperate, ever the gentleman, met her halfway and locked their lips together. They moved as one, letting their lips slide across the other’s. Hands roamed freely, and it was starting to look like they were not going to be making it to town soon. That is, of course, until DogMeat came back in the room with a dead iguana in her mouth. She dropped it on the floor, and pawed at the man and woman who were locked in their embrace. The Ghoul groaned as his partner detached them in favor of tending to the dog he claimed he did not want.

“Good girl. Such a good hunter.” The baby voice was back. Seeing that the dog was getting the attention now, Cooper moved to grab all of his effects from where they were strewn about the room. His duster sat upon his shoulders, while his hat found its spot on his scarred head.

“Come on. Let’s get goin’.” He stated definitely. His saddle bag was slung across his shoulder, and his hand helped navigate his partner through the abandoned house.

They began their trek into town, which thankfully was not too long of a walk. DogMeat followed on the other side of Cooper, hot on his heels. He kept his eyes peeled as they drew further and further into the town. There was a pharmacy, a trader’s hut, several food stalls, and even a mechanics repair shop. Plenty for the two of them. Turning to his partner, he passed her some caps and pointed towards a couple stalls.

“Go get you some dried meat, and get a box of ammunition. Don’t smile so much, alright?” Cooper stressed. She nodded in return and patted his arm as she left with DogMeat.

The Ghoul made his way into the trader’s hut first to find a new bounty that was around. Thankfully, the woman behind the counter had one, and it was simple enough. Someone had not paid her what she was owed, and now she had a hat out on the man. He accepted half of the caps upfront, before moving on to the pharmacy next door. Cooper’s eyes caught his partner and DogMeat traversing the stalls, already having several pouches of meat in her bag.

Which is why he was not afraid to leave her alone while he took his time getting his chems from the pharmacy. Being a ghoul certainly had its drawbacks; the stares, reputation, and fear. But it also held some positives; the stares, reputation, and fear. It certainly helped when acquiring what he needed for a reasonable price. A commotion caught his ears from outside, but he was not afraid that it was his partner.

Until he stepped outside. Cooper saw his partner being crowded against a pile of sheet metal while DogMeat kept barking up a fuss. The dog ran over immediately to the man and began to drag him by his duster over to the woman.

“Come on, sweetheart. Don’t play hard to get.” Some man crept into her space, making her cower down even further. Based on what he could see, and the description the trader gave, this must have been the bounty. She did mention that he tended to go where he pleased like he owned it all.

“Please. Let me go.” She whimpered. Her voice was full of fear and worry, and Cooper was not about to let that stand.

“Everyone’s got a price. I can pay whatever your price is.” He continued, placing his hand on the woman’s waist.

“I do believe the lady asked you to let her go.” Cooper finally made his way over. The man turned around, and smiled with blackened teeth.

“Don’t worry, Ghoul. Once I’m done with her, I’m sure you can have a turn. Certainly don’t wanna do it the other way around.” He laughed, as if what he said was the funniest thing in the world. Cooper began to chuckle lowly as he peeked his eyes out from the lip of his hat. Catching his partner’s eyes, she felt relief as she saw her savior in western gear.

“See, she might be bein’ nice and askin’ you to let her go. But I ain’t that nice. So now I’m tellin’ you to let her go. Now.” Cooper growled, feeling his patience wear thin.

“Or what, Ghoul?” The man never got to hear another response. In a flash, Howard had aimed his gun and fired on his legs. Blowing both of them off, the not-so-tough man now crumbled to the ground, screaming and crying, pleading for the ghoul to have mercy on him.

“Well, ain’t that some shit.” The Ghoul growled, tying a rope around the torso of the man, and began to drag him to the trader’s hut. He focused on the task at hand, knowing that DogMeat would take care of anyone else that had dared get close to her owner.

Walking out of the trader’s hut, Cooper’s eyes scanned the town as he tried to find her partner. He found her, hugging her lugs, stuck in the same place that she was being held. DogMeat was chowing down on the legs that were left. His pocket felt heavy with the weight of the caps, but all that mattered now was taking care of her.

“You alright there, sweetheart?” Howard held a hand out for her to grab onto, and she did. Eagerly shoving her face into his chest and letting out a shaky breath as she processed the events that had just unfolded.

“I’m good. Can we go please?” Her words were muffled in his shirt, but he understood them plenty. Calling for DogMeat, Cooper led the three of them out of the town and into somewhere more secluded. Once they were there, tears fell from her eyes as the weight of what happened fully caught up to her. He set her down on something resembling a chair, and squatted down in front to check her over.

“You saved me.” She whispered, letting her partner do what he needed to do.

“Course I did. What’d you expect? Me to leave you with that man?” He countered with a ridiculous tone.

“It’s like one of your old sheriff films.” Her giggles matched his groan as he dropped his head.

“This ain’t the movies, darlin’.” Cooper looked up at her.

“It’s kinda like the movies.” She replied, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to bring him in close.

“I can always take you back to that town and leave you there.” He stated in her shoulder. She giggled again.

“That’s not very sheriff-y of you.” Every time he thought he had won, she proved him wrong.

“Alright,” he stood up and took her with him, “let’s get moving. Maybe if we’re lucky we can find another house to sleep in.”

“Ooo, do you think we could find one with a television and a few films?” She teased, already walking off away from town. Cooper groaned, but caught up to her and kept her underneath his arm as they walked away from that town.

#rebelliousstories #writing #cooper the ghoul howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x oc #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard #the ghoul x oc #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul fallout #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul #fallout imagine #fallout

[scarletttries]

When Fallout Characters Have Their First Kiss...(Fallout Show Request)

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

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who voted on my last poll! It was so fun seeing the votes come in so I'll definitely do that again! Please keep sending in Fallout requests, or for any of the other poll options :)

The Ghoul:

- Life in the wastelands has always been tough, and Cooper Howard's skin has had to grow even tougher, literally and metaphorically. His defenses have slowly steeled themselves over the last two hundred years, every awful encounter and exchange adding another barricade around what was once a warm and friendly heart. He thought that tough exterior was what had kept him alive that long. He also thought your purpose in his life must have been to prove that thought wrong.

- From that first surprising encounter the ghoul found himself drawn to your gaze, your touch, your presence. The way you gave him all three so unflinchingly. Your eyes could look into his without disgust or pity, your hand never snatching away as if the slightest graze could curse you to the same cruel fate. Cooper tried to tell himself the kindest thing he could do for you was to keep your partnership of survival a strictly platonic one, but as nights in each other's company passed one by one he could feel himself inching closer and closer to the warmth you seemed to radiate towards him.

- So used to being in control of every situation, it only shook him more to feel so uncertain of your feelings and if he should act on his own. He feared you being the first person in a century to show him kindness had turned his brain entirely to confetti, that his heart had no choice but to hope you'd take it from his cavernous chest. But your kindness was who you were to everyone, regardless of what they deserved. It didn't mean anything about how you felt about him. So why couldn't he stop himself having that most dangerous hope that maybe his heart wasn't the only one aching with every step you passed side by side, hands hanging just shy of touching, so easy to grab and finally embrace that deep seated truth that this was becoming something more.

- Cooper prided himself on taking the brunt of any danger the world seemed to throw your way, happy to be stitched back together by your soft and caring hands. That day though, he'd been thrown from your side a moment too long and watched helplessly as a half-crazed raider slashed at you with some clumsily wielded machete. You did your best to hold them off, but before Cooper could rise to his feet and grab his pistol you'd taken a hit to the arm, blood dripping from the tip of the blade and red spreading across the tattered fabric of your shirt. The ghoul had never felt such rage encompassing him, ripping through the gang in a violent frenzy that he would have worried would frighten you if he wasn't so focused on his need for overkill.

- He's uncharastically quiet as he practically carries you back to camp, ignoring your insistence that it's just a scratch until he's been able to examine you himself by the familiar glow of your campfire. He kneels beside you and scrutinises your arm, always slightly captivated by how soft your skin has remained in this unforgiving wasteland. Once he realises that you're right, and you'll be just fine, he can feel the swell of relief and terror hitting him all at once, the awful realisation that he could have lost you without ever getting to try and be as close to you as he craves. So he stills his gaze on your face, eyes flickering down to your lips as he inches closer, bracing himself for the rejection of your retreat. Instead you meet him halfway, your lips more warm and soft than any he could remember. In that sweet moment Cooper Howard feels more alive, more human, more safe than he ever did before the bombs hit. He feels like his body is warming from the inside out, a rush of blood bringing him back to the man he once was.

- He may not look any different as he reluctantly pulls away to let you breathe, but he is a changed man inside from your kiss. He realises that it's not his callous cynicism that's kept him alive this long, but his once soft heart, desperate to find hope again. Hope that he's now found, with you.

Maximus:

- It was hard for Maximus to put his finger on exactly what he felt when he was around you. He knew his entire being ached to be near you, and even when he was, it somehow wasn't close enough. He knew that when you smiled it made him smile, no matter what the context or motivation. He knew that the longer he went without seeing you, the dimmer the world seemed to be, like you were his lens to all the joy and colour around him and he was lost in grey oblivion about it. Maximus felt a lot of things around you that he'd never felt before, but he didn't really know what to call it. And he certainly didn't know what to do with all those feelings.

- The Brotherhood wasn't exactly the best place to learn about feelings growing up, everything complex and difficult hidden behind a layer of steel and obedience. Thankfully if you put enough young people together, eventually gossip will reign supreme. And so Max heard about the idea of a crush from two tables over as he sat eating alone in the canteen. He strained to pick up the conversation between two of the older guys who'd been out on more missions, setting down his cutlery and shuffling closer as he heard one of them talk about the way his stomach was in knots every time one of the new recruits looked at him. By the time they'd described the hot flush in their cheeks when the object of their affections smiled, and how they plagued their every thought, Max was sat with his mouth hanging agape and a renewed sense of purpose for the next time you came knocking on his door to sneak out to see the stars.

- In fact he couldn't wait for that moment to come and instead you found him breathless and fighting with the opening of your tent when you came back from your latest supply run. Upon spotting you he quickly unravelled himself from the ropes that had captured his limbs in his stealthy attempts to sneak a peek inside, and offered his hand to you in such a matter of fact motion that you had to stifle a laugh at the serious expression on his face. He leads you to the quiet corner of camp the two of you frequent, a tarp tucked against a loose fence panel that almost feels like a loveseat made just for you.

"Do you know what a crush is?" Max looked equal parts concerned and excited as he tried to read your puzzled expression.

"Yes Max, do you?" You knew there was something growing in the way you and Maximus had come to rely on each other, and pass every free moment tangled in each other's company, but you also knew he didn't have the best understanding when it came to the more human parts of his life and didn't want to risk misreading the delicate situation.

"I think so, but what should you do when you have a crush on someone?" He looked up at you starry-eyed and hopeless, desperately wishing that you two could be far away from here and working all of this out without the horrors of war hanging over you. You could see the straining heart behind his wide-eyed gaze, his hand still nervously clinging to yours, and decided to take pity on the young soldier.

"Do you want me to show you?" You ask softly, inching closer to his face almost feeling the heat rising in his cheeks as he frantically nodded. Lifting the hand he hadn't claimed, you let your palm rest against his cheek, feeling his body start to tremble in anticipation of what might come next. You leaned in, eyes focusing on his soft full lips until they met yours, pressing gently into him until his brain caught up and finally he started to reciprocate. Unsure and desperate, his free hand found the small of your back, pulling you closer and making sure you wouldn't stop this wonderful feeling in a hurry. As your lips moved slowly against his, he found a rhythm with you, drinking in your sweet warmth and praying this moment would never end, because somehow this strange and overwhelming feeling was still so much better than the years of emptiness that had stretched before it. Finally you pull away from him, searching his eyes for some insight into how he's feeling after such a pivotal first for him. You're met by the widest smile you've ever seen, and a simple question, "Can we do that again?"

Norm:

- Norman Maclean couldn't help the overwhelming cynicism that flooded through him every time it was the day of another vault-exchanging wedding day. He wanted to enjoy the delicious array of food, without thinking about how insufferable it must be to suddenly live with a perfect stranger. He wanted to enthusiastically navigate the dancefloor like everyone else, without thinking about how the new couple must be feeling so uncomfortable despite how happy they looked. He wanted to be able to soak in the joy of that magical first kiss without feeling this strange hollow ache inside himself that he tried to write off as an aversion to the falseness of this whole charade. But as he watched yet another 'happy couple' lock lips or move intertwined across the dancefloor, a small part of him knew that his distaste for the day was down to one much more simple feeling: Envy.

- There wasn't even anyone in the vault he wanted to share those kinds of embraces with, but that knowledge did little to assuage the aching loneliness that was nestled deep under layers of logic and intelligence that he let guide him instead of his heart. Or at least there had never been anyone in the vault that had made him feel that way by the time the council decided it was his turn to take part in their little tradition of arranged marriages. And in a most pleasant surprise to the slight young man, he felt a touch of optimism as his wedding day rolled around and he found himself face to face with you. And in a twist of fate that had Norm quite unable to believe his own luck, he was destined to wed someone that stirred those same desperate, longing feelings inside him with no sign of relief.

- The short-lived, perfunctory kiss with which the two of you had sealed your vows had been enough to set his heart ablaze, even with the eyes of the vault on him, even though it only lasted for a split-second, even though he wished the circumstances were entirely different. And as the two of you found common ground and shared secret jokes as the night went on, Norm only found himself falling deeper under your spell and praying when the night was through that you wouldn't resent following him back to a room that might finally feel like home.

- As the music from the old record-player swelled you threaded your fingers through his and pulled him over the sparsely populated dancefloor, most of the Vault 33 having long given up on seeing Norm dance and retreated to their own private quarters. As the lights grew dimmer on the projected skyline you seemed only more beautiful in Norm's eyes, his slender arms finding your waist and holding onto you like he feared he might drift away in an ocean current that threatened to pull him back to reality. He watched the soft smile spread effortlessly across your face, the ease with which you swayed to the music making him dance before he even realised he was moving. His mind replayed the briefest touch of your lips and suddenly he found himself unable to concentrate on anything but closing the distance between you, every nerve in his body sending electricity through him that finally promised to illuminate the dark, aching loneliness that had resided in him for as long as he could remember.

- He prayed your smile was genuine as he stepped ever closer, taking a visibly deep breath before finally taking the plunge and landing what he hoped would be the first real kiss of many in your marriage. His chest pressed firmly against yours as he tried to remove all space between the two of you, every ounce of hope and affection pouring out into a kiss that had your head spinning, pure dedication from your new husband clear in his every touch. It felt all consuming to finally be so connected to another person, a feeling Norm feared would never find him but now seemed a tangible part of his present and future. By the time he pulled away his lungs ached and he worried his eyes would well up if you kept staring at him with such intensity. He felt himself freeze on the spot as he awaited your verdict; on his kiss, on the marriage, on him. A moment that stretched out an eternity passed before finally he watched a smile grace your lips, feeling your hand find his again as you said softly in his ear, an unfamiliar gleam in your eye,

"Which of these rooms is ours, husband?"

#writing #fanfiction #requests #one shot #fallout prime #fallout headcanons #fallout show #fallout #cooper howard one shot #cooper howard headcanons #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #the ghoul headcanons #the ghoul imagine #fallout the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul #norm maclean #fallout norm #fallout norman #norman maclean #norm x reader #maximus x reader #fallout maximus #maximus #maximus headcanons #fallout headcanon

[ladybirdswritings]

Pretty Thing - Cooper Howard (Ghoul) x Reader

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

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

last chap | A03 | masterlist

part 4

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

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

Thing was, it had been days.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not a fucking dog.”

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

“Y’ thirsty?”

… what?

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

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

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

“Wh—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yet you?

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

•••

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The clean, pristine lake water.

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

A minute passed, then another…

The lake water was settled in her stomach…

…and she was completely— fine.

Unharmed.

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

Anger.

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

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

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

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

Oh you got it now. You got it completely.

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

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

Just like your keepers.

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

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

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

You did it now.

You truly, pissed him off.

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe he was worse…

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

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

He was drowning you.

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

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

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

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

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

This was how you’d die.

That thought, it settled then.

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

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

Closer…

Closer….

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

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

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

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

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

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

Radiation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Exhausted.

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

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

Dead.

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

Entirely… dead.

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

Yet still, the mad man, he was satisfied.

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

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

Not horror, not disgust… no.

Simply?

Awe…

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[mlmxreader]

What Remains | Cooper Howard x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ '' How I end up here''

And

"I wanna know who I'm looking at"

With ghoul please

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

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

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

╰┈➤ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

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

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

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

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

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

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

You cleared your throat, drawing his attention at last.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thou shalt not-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Or what?" You challenged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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