#(but just like with dogmeat... he did) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rebelliousstories · 5 months

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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

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ladybirdswritings · 4 months

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Pretty Thing - Cooper Howard (Ghoul) x Reader

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

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

last chap | A03 | masterlist

part 5

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

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

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

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

He tried to drown you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Daring you.

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

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

His lips curled into an awful, mangled grin.

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

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

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

“Open.” He commanded.

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

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

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

“What’s it gon’ be?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When he finished up, he sighed.

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

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

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

Who was beyond the glass?

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

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

Pretty thing.

You scoffed.

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

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

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

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

Why did they do this to you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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themaclean · 5 months

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We Don't Have To Be Friends (1/2) Characters: Cooper Howard/Lucy MacLean. Summary: 3,507 words, Post Season One -- character study that was meant to be PWP, but then ended up being entirely plot. Part two will be smut or I will krill myself. Warnings: Nothing you wouldn't see in the show. ( Ao3 ) > Part One | Part Two | Part Three <

Cooper never thought much about Hollywood anymore.

He had no reason to and no time either— but the thoughts bubbled up when he saw how the gold thread of his shirt dulled and familiar street signs melted into slack arches. Sometimes, he’d catch sight of a tattered newspaper with names he recognized or faces of people long since dead.

But nothing made him think of Hollywood the way Lucy did.

It hit him one afternoon with a nasty churn, that flash of the old world that locked his knees mid-stride. It was pathetic, really, when he thought about it now.

It was the flash of Lucy's Vault-Tec-sponsored smile over her shoulder, her thin hand with a necrotized finger pointing ahead of them at some landmark she’d heard of. With her head turned at just the right angle, and the sun was low as it caught the edges of her cheeks and lashes…

She had the sort of face girls in the movies had: clear skin, big eyes, and neat hair. Pretty — beautiful, actually, but not as a matter of compliment. Beautiful in the way she’d make a good price at any given market if he was inclined to sell her. Beautiful in the way people loved to exploit.

That’s the lifeblood of Hollywood—that churning mass of young talent desperate to prove they had what it takes. They’d sweet talk whoever they needed to, go to the parties, and chat his ear off about how amazing he’d been in whatever movie had come out lately, about the sponsorships they’d been offered, and about the dresses they got sent. They’d slip him their number and hold his bicep too long like they’d been taught to by managers and mothers alike.

Dozens of pretty women rushed to audition for the role of arm candy. They’d audition to play the mayor's daughter, the farmer's daughter, or so-and-so’s daughter. They’d always been the damsel. Then, whatever cowboy he’d been hired to play would toss the pretty woman onto the back of Sugarfoot and ride off into the sunset. The sort of girl who'd be gone by the next movie or end up married to a director, so she'd quit acting.

And, much like all the girls in Hollywood Cooper had spent time with, Lucy had changed. She had the same optimism, but it’d dulled; her marketable face now held tired, empty eyes. It was like she finally caught onto the world’s current: no sunset and no next movie.

Cooper couldn’t fault her. It's a strange journey to discover what to do to survive.

“Hey Cooper — is that it?” Lucy asked, repeating herself. The sprawl of buildings ahead was dotted with torches and candles.

Cooper nodded, his hand firm on Dogmeat’s collar.

A short strip of buildings stood out against the expanse of desert and dry shrubs. Each building leaned towards another, with sheet metal fastened with unskilled welding. Several turrets puttered away, seeking whatever wasn’t humanoid enough. Strips of fabric and tin cans garlands peppered the buildings' front. The smaller buildings on either side were your standard fare: a repair shop, a medic, a trader with a little diner area.

But the one Cooper was after stood out for its neon sign—Hell’s Oasis.

Hell’s Oasis served its purpose—it was a decent place to get information, and the people minded their business. They weren’t too bothered with ghouls or mutants as long as you had caps. The place often served as a meeting ground for bounty hunters and their contractors. It was also one of the more upscale places, as they wouldn’t harvest organs unless you died of natural causes.

And, if you couldn’t fight or forage for survival, you could fuck for it.

(Not that Cooper ever wasted caps on the whores who took residence within Hell’s Oasis. He’d sooner pay people to fuck off than spend the night with him.)

Cooper grabbed Lucy by the nape of her neck to yank her close and keep her firmly by his side. Most people he brought here, he left here — call it a force of habit to handle her so roughly.

“I can walk, y’know,” Lucy hissed.

“Stick close,” Cooper clicked his tongue at her, and a slight hiss followed. His grip flexed to further the message that she’d do well to follow his guidance.

They made their way through the hotel lobby, the moldy carpet slick against the floor with dirt and grease from the world outside. A few people chattered away in the attached bar, laughing at jokes Cooper couldn’t make out. Casino chips clattered on the table as they played made-up card games.

Long dead plants clung to arid dirt, the sticks of old ferns wilting against one another. Metal crates were lashed together in each corner of the alcove where the front desk sat, providing a makeshift cage between the staff and the patrons. Several girls rushed past Cooper and Lucy, jeering and cackling as they approached the bar. They were clad in lacy nightgowns. He couldn’t tell if they knew they were lingerie rather than clothes or if they’d even care.

“It’s so lively here,” Lucy said, a pang of something in her face.

“It happens in pockets,” Cooper said with a shrug of his shoulder. Little uh… spots of life.”

“Must be why they call it an oasis.”

Cooper rolled his eyes as they reached the front desk. Magazines sat in thick stacks with information about local tours in the area and a guide to the national parks. An abandoned handbag was tucked against the desk, which Lucy eyed with curiosity.

Cooper slapped the front desk bell a few times, a gargling growl low in his throat.

They needed this break after a couple of weeks on the road together. Water was getting sparse, and he wanted to be ready to meet with whoever the fuck Hank had run off to. And in such an open desert, there’s no sense traveling at night, and all manner of dumb shit came up along the way.

It was always something. People needed help or some dumb cunt trying to pick a fight, resupplies, rest… He didn’t like helping people much, but Lucy argued with him whenever they tried to go on without at least trying. And whether the people lived or died, at least they tried. That was her argument.

But Lucy listened to him a little more now, and he was as patient as he could be with her.

Cooper rang the bell again. He wanted a room, and the chattering laughter in the bar was only making his aches worse.

Priscilla appeared from behind a moth-eaten velvet curtain. Her hairline was hidden beneath a thick headscarf with puffy blond curls bouncing beneath it. The last time he’d been here, her hair had begun to rot out of her skull. He guessed it’d only gotten worse. She’s still pretty, mirroring that old-world red lip with pin curls.

“Oh my God, is that you, Coop? I haven’t seen you in a long time,” Priscilla said in a slow, low voice. She had a rasp to it, always had, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the radiation or a smoking habit.

“Was underground,” Cooper said with a lazy smile. He wouldn’t mention that he’d been underground in a literal sense, trapped in a coffin.

“Well, it’s nice for you to come to see us and…” Priscilla’s gaze slid to Lucy, that usual surprise swelling up at the sight of a genuine Vault Dweller. They weren’t hard to spot. “Ah, you turning her in for a bounty?”

Lucy’s head snapped towards him, a mixture of shock and disgust.

“No,” Cooper shook his head, his grip firm on Lucy’s neck to turn her head away from him. His fingers tensed before they dropped away altogether, brushing across Lucy’s shoulder. “Tag-along. Helpin’ her uh…” He picked through the words that came to mind, cautious not to share too much. “Adjust to the surface.”

Priscilla’s jaw squared as she stared Lucy down.

“We’re just lookin’ for a room, some food,” Cooper said before she could pry further. “Usual fare.”

“Please,” Lucy said, like Cooper had forgotten, and it was important to say. “The usual fare, please.”

“She speaks,” Priscilla said in a purr.

Cooper had to give Lucy credit. She’d stayed quiet much longer than he’d expected.

“Oh, we’ll also need water,” Lucy said, looking up at Cooper. “For cleaning and drinking. I’m not sure if you separate it that way or if you reuse it unless you have showers.”

Priscilla narrowed her eyes. “Running water? We can get you a bucket of water, sweetness. That alright with you?”

“It works great for me. Big fan of buckets. They’re the backbone of agriculture and cleaning, really, if you think about it…” Lucy agreed, her smile as bright as the neon sign by the front window.

Priscilla looked at Cooper and then at Lucy, repeating the loop before she sauntered behind a moth-eaten velvet curtain strung up with zip ties. The distant hum of a generator underscored the silence as Cooper picked over the board of caricatures. Plenty of people were banned from the premises or with a bounty on their heads — no one stood out on the board, at least.

“She was giving us a weird look,” Lucy leaned closer to Cooper, feigning a swipe of her hand through her hair. The floor creaked as she shifted her weight closer to him. “Is it the bucket thing? I panicked.”

Cooper scoffed from the back of his throat.

“It is safe here, right? You trust her?”

“It’s safe,” Cooper bared his teeth at Lucy, begging her to return to the docile silence she’d thrived in.

“Then why — ”

Cooper hissed for her to shh through clenched teeth.

Priscilla pushed past the curtain. She gripped a little blue card with faded gold edges. A key with a golden ball chain was attached to the edge. It felt strangely archaic to be so formal about lodgings, but it was why he liked this place.

“I guess it makes sense,” Priscilla said as she slid the key to Cooper. She nodded to Lucy. “You wanting a girl who’s more… Old—world flavor. It reminds you of the golden years, hm?”

“Six, right?” Cooper ignored her question, his gaze fixed to the card.

“Six,” Priscilla repeated, her gaze on Lucy.

Cooper tossed a few caps onto the front desk, the clatter of metal their own punctuation. He notched his head towards the stairs, and Dogmeat and Lucy followed in stride. He was eager for the simple things — water, food, and a moment to let his bags rest.

“Wanting a girl…” Lucy smiled, mumbling more of Priscilla’s words under her breath.

After several flights of stairs and a few hours, Cooper felt all the better. He’d eaten his fill and enjoyed the peace of an enclosed room. He didn’t often allow himself such a luxury, as being in a settlement put a target on your back for any larger groups. But it’d been two weeks since they’d had proper rest out of the elements.

Tracking Hank wasn’t easy, either. That suit meant he could skip over all the pocked landscape and roaming threats. What would take him an hour to travel by air was a day for them sometimes, a fact that spurred Cooper on. But they couldn’t rush, as rushing would only get them killed.

One wrong step and you were deathclaw chow.

“God, more, please!”

And there went the silence. Cooper’s eye twitched; his lipless mouth sneered at the screeches.

Whoever had taken up residence in room five was making the most of their money — an hour straight of screams and moans, an hour straight of Lucy pretending to read. She’d picked up a holotape at the last outpost they’d stopped at; something about a sequel she’d always wanted to continue reading.

By the second hour, it wasn’t so much that room five stopped fucking. But they at least got a lot quieter about it. The occasional shriek or moan rattled through the air vents, but it was far and few between.

Lucy lay across the double bed, her boots discarded beside the door. Her vault suit hung from the defunct radiator. Her washing was all done, and she’d freshened up, the usual Lucy shit. She’d helped herself to the water and changed into some pajama set she’d pilfered from a house a few days back.

“I think it’s nice,” Lucy said into the open air of the hotel room.

Cooper looked up from his shotgun, teeth bared like he was trying to smile. “The quiet?”

“No,” Lucy smiled at the wall between them and room five. “That people can find love, even now.”

Cooper couldn’t stop himself from laughing at that. The cackles shook from low in his lungs and caught him so off-guard he hacked up some foul muck into his palm. He hissed through a wheezed breath as he fumbled with his RadAway puffer.

“I mean it! It’s not funny!”

“That ain’t love, Vaultie,” Cooper coughed out, his eyes narrowed as drool and tears mingled on his cheeks. He wiped his face, fine skin catching against the scarred, leathery mess. “That…” He pointed to the wall. “S’probably a whore and her John making the most of the caps.”

Lucy’s eyes darted as she picked apart what he’d said. “John..?”

“John’s a term for uh…” Cooper’s jaw strained against a smile, though it was far too cruel to be kind. “A guy who pays for sex.”

“Ah, wasteland slang,” she said with a solemn nod, as if it made sense she hadn’t caught on immediately.

“Old world slang,” Cooper corrected.

Lucy looked around the hotel room anew, like she’d finally caught on to what this place really was. She scooted to the edge of the bed, to sit with her legs angled towards him. “That woman at the front desk said you’d want a girl who’s old world — she thought I was a prostitute. ”

“Maybe.”

Lucy crossed her arms as if she had more to say on the matter. But then she remained quiet, uncharacteristically so.

“S’waste of caps.”

“Hiring me to have sex with you? Actually, I know all about sexual gratification, so I think it’d be a great use of money — caps.”

Cooper stared Lucy down as if he couldn’t parse what she’d just said. “Paying anyone money to fuck you is a waste.” Cooper tongued his lips apart. “Bullets. Meds. There’s shit worth paying for. Sex is — ”

“Important.”

“Sex ain’t worth much.”

“To you, maybe,” Lucy frowned. “It’s an act of love and intimacy, and… It’s how humanity continues, and it’s — fun if done well.”

“You wanna waste your caps on some cock?” Cooper snapped, his hand flapping at the door. “Be my guest.”

“No,” Lucy shook her head. “I don’t want to, but I’m saying that I… I think killing people is probably worse than sleeping with people for caps. If it’s to survive, I think it makes sense. Morally speaking.”

“Don’t,” Cooper snarled.

Cooper didn’t like how Lucy spoke to him most days, but this was a new, worse permutation. Her Vault-addled morality was sickening enough on its own, as she embodied whatever bullshit had been drip-fed to her by the company who’d bought her vault. Not that he was without sin, given the shit he’d done to survive this long.

But sex and love and all that shit was not front of mind. He needed to find his family and to know what happened to them. He didn’t need a two-cap blowjob from a stranger in the dim light of some bar. Though, in all honesty, his drug habit mixed with the amount of alcohol he’d drowned himself in, some nights got hazy.

There’s that animalistic, self-destructive part of him that won on his worst nights. The same part of him that kept him alive, the same part that let him do all the miserable shit he needed to do to survive.

But it’s certainly never been love. Not since Barb.

Never again, he’d wager.

"I had sex once," Lucy said this like it was a point of pride, now on her feet. She idled beside the bed, her gaze settled onto the empty space she’d been lying. "With my husband, but…" Her face twisted with this delayed amusement. She turned towards him, closing the gap between them.

Lucy’s eyes remained unfocused as she stared at the marked table between them, where his shotgun lay across a dirty cloth. "Does that make us both widows..? You said you have a family, right? So, you were probably married and had at least one kid. Not trying to presume, so tell me if I’m wrong, but… You said that in the observatory. That’s what you’re after."

Cooper parted his lips, a nasty tilt to his hairless brow.

Lucy gave a tight smile. "I was married. Only for a few hours, but… It was an arranged marriage, I didn’t meet him until the wedding. It turned out he was a raider from the surface posing as my match from Vault 32 and…" At this point, Lucy caught herself. “I feel for you, if you lost someone. That’s all.”

“You ain’t a widow.”

“Technically — ”

Cooper stood up, unable to stay seated. “You say you’re a widow like it’s a fact outta some book. The shit you went through — you’re an experiment gone wrong, not a damn widow,” Cooper said, his voice flat.

Lucy’s face twitched at his words as if she struggled to keep her smile. “Well, guess what? We’re all an experiment gone wrong, whether you’re in a vault or not.”

Cooper’s eyes twitched, narrowing in the dark of their hotel room. Room five was quiet, which made this moment all the worse. He didn’t like how she spoke about him, as if she knew what was happening in his mind. He wasn’t some wounded man looking for sympathy.

He wasn’t anything.

“Go back to your holotapes,” Cooper said with a jut of his chin. “You’ve been up here a few weeks, acting like you know how it is.”

“Well, I know we’ve all been screwed over by people hundreds of years ago, and I’m sorry if I’m not as beaten down by it as you, but — I’m just trying to share things with you, to…” Lucy struggled through her words, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. “We don’t have to be friends, but we have to be — something.”

The couple in room five screeched. Cooper tensed out of habit but relaxed again when he reasoned what the noise was. It didn’t solve the fierce look on Lucy’s face as she stared him down, her fists clenched by her pajama-clad thighs.

“I don’t want to fight with you,” Lucy said, shaking her damp hair out of her face. She stood idle by the table as if she had just realized she had stepped towards him in their argument. There was a bird-like shake to her chest, her heart and lungs quick beneath bone.

It was moments like this that made his nature crystalline to him — that thin line she couldn’t perceive of how easy it’d be to string her up by the ankles and bleed her dry. Of how easy it’d be to slide into that ache for warm flesh between his teeth and blood down his throat.

Ghouls aren’t welcome in most settlements for a reason, and Lucy is too damn optimistic to learn that lesson.

Cooper tongued the inside of his cheek, and his teeth gnashed at the frayed edge of his lip. “We have to be something, huh?”

Lucy’s brow twitched, and her jaw strained as she tried to stand taller. She nodded as something like hope softened her stern expression.

It wasn’t hard to close the gap. It was even easier to grab that ponytail she always wore and yank her head close, fist tight in her hair as he brought her close. Her hand scrabbled against the table, and nails dug into the wood as their eyes met.

“Don’t you ever talk about my family again,” Cooper said, his voice level. “We clear?”

Lucy’s breathing redoubled, but she nodded. Her nostrils flared as he let her go with a firm shove. There was a real sense of satisfaction as he felt her perception of him shift as if she’d forgotten she was dealing with a monster rather than a man. As if the rotted skin and exposed tensions, or the gaping hole where his nose had once been, weren’t enough warning.

Pretty girls in Hollywood were overlooked as much in his time — all in the name of survival in a race that no one really won. You took your part and played it until the work dried up. Then, you prayed for sponsorships, deals, and other things to spare you from the real world.

He watched it with co-stars, time and again. It wasn’t much different now, just less rhinestones and more rads.

#cooper howard #lucy maclean #fallout spoilers #fallout #vaultghoul #cooper x lucy #my writing

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charliesvarietyhour · 30 days

Text

can they jam?

quick and dirty "analysis" of whether or not the fallout 4 companions can play an instrument. hold my hand and play in the space with me <3

(these are all headcanons. they might not be yours, but they are mine. if you find these upsetting, that's okay! you can scroll away, my feelings won't be hurt <3 okay, i love you have fun)

no i am NOT writing this instead of finishing the jude/preston diptych that i've been procrastinating on for three months. and actually how dare you for implying that. you're no longer invited to my fallout themed birthday party.

Ada. Can play little tunes by beeping at different frequencies. Would do this with her friends when they had music nights around their campfire.

Cait. Fabulous sense of rhythm. Always drumming some kind of beat.

Codsworth. Hums frequently. There's nothing in his programming that should allow him to do this.

Curie. Not only can she not play instruments, but she is criminally tone-deaf. She should probably stick to the lab.

Danse. Singing voice like an angel. Too shy to sing publicly. So if you catch him singing to himself, you'd better shut up and hope he doesn't notice you if you want him to continue.

Deacon. "I'll never tell!" (No, he cannot and he is embarrassed about it.)

Dogmeat. Howls on-key. Like, scarily on-key. Better-than-you-can-sing on-key. Are-we-sure-this-dog-is-just-a-dog on-key. I cannot stress how unnatural it is. Nobody acknowledges it when you ask them. Dogmeat wags his tail.

Gage. Used to play bluegrass instruments (dulcimer, fiddles, guitars, banjos, etc) with his brothers. He can also make instruments and can tune them by ear. He doesn't do either anymore.

Hancock. Knows some chords on the guitar but prefers to listen to music. He has a nice, deep humming voice, though.

MacCready. No. But he has a pitch-perfect whistle. Very cool!

Nick. Call him Billy Joel the way he's a Piano Man. Great with music theory and can read any sheet music. Human!Nick did not have this talent. It's important to me that you know that.

Old Longfellow. Virtuoso. Can pick up any instrument and is an instant savant. You will never ever ever ever see him do this. This is how he preserves what little sanity he has left.

Piper. She tried learning Hot Cross Buns on a hand-carved recorder when she was a kid and quit when she wasn't immediately good at it. No.

Preston. Was the Lead Harmonicist in Hollis' regiment. He still has it on him, though he hasn't played since Quincy. Can also pluck a tune on a guitar or banjo, but those are less convenient to carry with you when traveling long distances.

Strong. Cello. No, he will not elaborate.

X6-88. No and he looks at you like you're an idiot if you ask. (He secretly wants to learn.)

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witchpassing · 4 months

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interview_3aC

I got into piloting during the Third Generation. For the historically illiterate, that’s before the breakpoint, not after. Summer Offensive, Chelsk Offensive, ‘81, ‘82… All that shit.

When you say pilot now, people get a certain mental image. It wasn’t like that, back then; end of the day, a G3 frame is basically just another kind of tank. Hot like hell inside and full analogue control. You had to think five, six, seven seconds ahead sometimes, because that’s how long it’d take you to string together the inputs for what you were doing next.

I was good. I mean, I’m good at my job now, sure, but… you should’ve fuckin’ seen me then.

... Anyway. Long and short of it is, I got unlucky. Everyone does, sooner or later. Coterie railcannon caved in part of my cockpit, crushed my leg to dogmeat, and that was that. A few years later, they’d have amputated, plugged in a spare, and sent me back in, but this was ‘83, the tech wasn’t there yet. We were hearing about it, you know, shit on the grapevine about the brain-machine barrier, weird tests underground out in Lysk, but I don’t think any of us really believed in it.

I wanna say I knew what was coming, but I didn’t. Nobody did.

So. Cockpit breach. Fucked leg. They did a lot of work, got it to where I could walk on a good day, but it was obvious I wasn’t gonna cut it any more. Took my pension, checked out, spent eight years in the worst dyke bars I could find. Don’t really wanna talk about that part. That’s not what you’re here for, anyway.

So I’m a few years down the line, losing my mind somewhere in Sengrade, and I get a call. It’s this guy I used to know, I never really nailed down what he did, Information maybe, and he’s telling me about this program they’re spinning up over in Lysk, and sure that rings some alarm bells but what am I gonna do, say no? I don’t even need to hear the specifics, he’s trying to tell me it’s the next big jump in frame tech, it’s gonna win us the war, whatever, I’m already halfway onto a train.

The job turned out to be the Fifth Generation. Not only was the brain-machine barrier real, but they’d smashed clean through it. I said a G3 is basically a tank, right? So I was expecting an iteration on the form. Sharper, sleeker sure, but at the end of the day just a prettier-looking tank.

Well, I was dead fuckin’ wrong. Seeing something that size move that way, it’s… I don’t think I can put it into words. Go find a poet or something. Ask them what they think about Gen 5.

… Didn’t come for free, of course. The neural throughput on a machine that size will cook an unprepared brain like a fuckin’ egg. You need to be dosed to the gills on a whole cocktail of ten-syllable shit to take it for more than a few minutes, and the drugs make you weird. Horny, mostly - I’m sure you’ve heard about that - but you’re also looking at impaired impulse control, difficulty with long-term thinking, emotional disregulation, mania… Plus, there’s something in the cocktail or the link or both that is bastard habit-forming. You see them counting the hours between sorties. They adjust to the hyperstimulation, get calibrated to it, and then everything else is just too god-damn quiet.

Think maybe it’s carcinogenic, actually, but you didn’t hear that from me.

So, yeah. Weird. Command doesn’t want weird operating superweaponry. Weird doesn’t make sound tactical decisions. Which means all the shit that makes somebody a functioning soldier - the long-term decision making, the impulse control, the ability to give a fuck about the rules of engagement - it had to be outsourced.

The term they used at first was “special consultant”. Then “special consulting officer”, once we hit field testing. It wasn’t “handler” until later.

The first crop of us - I’m just gonna say handlers, I know how you’re gonna wanna spin this, I get it - were all ex-pilots. G3, mostly; Gen 4 didn’t leave a lot of material to work with. I guess the idea was we were the closest you could get to a G5 candidate’s frame of reference, but it was pretty clear within the first few months that that was bullshit. Some of us took to it, some of us washed out. A lot couldn’t take the wetwork, which I guess I can sympathise with.

Me, I handled it fine. Better than I should’ve, maybe. Being a tanker didn’t do shit for me, but my dad, he was a dog trainer, and… Yeah, well, you get the idea.

… No, no. The other kind of wetwork. You know what I mean.

…

The leg? Ha. Yeah, they offered me a prosthetic. ‘Course they did. But, call me a hypocrite, whatever you want - by that point I was six months in and I knew with total fuckin’ certainty I didn’t want the link. I spend enough of my time helping the military put their shit into peoples’ bodies, you know? I don’t want it walking home with me.

… No, I don’t understand why they keep signing up. Early days, sure, nobody knew what it did to you back then, but there’s been leaks, people’ve talked - hell, I’m talking right now. You can find our burnouts in any dive in the country, or what's fuckin' left of them. The candidates now, they know what we do to people here, and they just keep coming, and coming…

Though, you know… I think sometimes about the first time I saw a Gen 5 machine take off, that first day on the program. The way it moved against the blue-black of the sky, like it weighed nothing at all. And I almost get it.

#empty spaces #mechposting #this one's writing #microfiction

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citruslullabies · 5 months

Note

Ghoul x reader x Lucy, Cooper and Lucy find reader as they're traveling and take her in, Lucy falling HARD first and coop not being able to resist either!! Reader is like their cute lil partner, they do their best to share (or throuple!! Though I feel like no matter what they'd fight a bit over reader teehee)

Coming up!! Please be patient with me, I haven't written for these two before

Trigger warnings: none

Romantic/platonic?: romantic✨

Requested by: anonymous

Category: fluff

Ship (romantic or platonic): Cooper Howard x reader x Lucy

Word count: 726

Cowboy Competition

The wastelands were violent, ruthless to kill anything on land from dehydration or starvation. Or even being killed to become nutrition for someone else.

But coming across someone alive and worthy enough of life was rare, and that's who you were. You were on the brink of death when they found you. The ghoul wanted to leave you for dead but the vault dweller stopped and tried to save you, even with the risk of being left behind but by some miracle the man decided he'd wait on her. Now you were part of their journey to find Lucy’s father for answers in which you had no questions, but understood that they did.

Lucy walked beside you, her big brown eyes watching your every step as you were cleaning Cooper’s gun. Cooper only allowed you to come along if you had made yourself useful, which you had tried to. She spoke up after a few moments, giving you a soft smile as she held her hands behind her back. “You know you don't have to clean his guns, right? He can do that himself. You don't have to worry about it.”

You looked over at her, but before you could answer the ghoul walking ahead of you two answered for you. He didn't turn around to look at you two but he still spoke up. “Now sweetheart, if she wants to clean my guns I have no objections. So don't go putting your nose where it don't belong.” he said while clicking his teeth together, looking down at Dogmeat as he trotted beside him. You gave a small bat of the eyes before smiling reassuringly at Lucy, freeing up one of your calloused hands to rest on her shoulder. The fabric of her jumpsuit felt so foreign to your hands, but you didn't mind.

“It's alright, I really don't mind. Don't really know how else I could make myself useful.” You hummed before continuing to walk and clean as you go.

Time had passed and you had come to the realization that their journey was a long one, but it was a bit too late for you to turn back now. Especially with growing affections from both of your new friends, Lucy being the first to show. She was extra sweet, helping you carry things and allowing you to rest against her shoulder when you made camp at night and she'd rub circles into your cheek with her thumb as you dozed off, which she just found to be the sweetest thing. But to Lucy’s dismay a certain cowboy started to take a liking to you too.

As things were settling for the night and it was time to rest, you were getting ready to lean against Lucy for warmth like you had been doing but a southern drawl caught your attention.

“How about you come over here and sleep in my arms darlin, I imagine I'm a whole lot warmer than Vaultie over there.” He drew out, sitting down with Dogmeat cuddled into his side. Cooper patted the canine on the head and gave you his signature smirk. “You can even snuggle with the dog, lord knows he won't leave my side.” He added to sweeten the pot, earning a scowl from Lucy before she gently took your hand in hers.

She squeezed your hand in both of hers, looking into your eyes warmly and lovingly as she tried to get you to look at her and only her. “I'm probably a lot more comfortable to lean up against, so why don't you just.. stay here? With me?” She offered softly, which led to bickering and you just laying down and trying to fall asleep alone to ignore them. Coop was in his 200’s and Lucy in her 20’s, yet they both behaved like children. You sighed and snuggled your shoulders into the sand, popping one eye open when you suddenly felt gloved hands scoop you up and hold you close, before a softer body laid beside the both of you and tried to hold you as well. It felt like getting tangled up in wires, but it was people. You tilt your head up to see Cooper laying back with his hat over his face, and Lucy with her forehead against your cheek with shut eyes.

For once maybe, they wouldn't be so competitive.

Thanks for requesting!

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enaelyork · 5 months

Note

Howdy!

I just discovered your blog and I am excited to read your Cooper Howard stuff.

I have a (18+) request for Cooper Howard as The Ghoul. Could I have him, the reader, and Lucy, traveling to New Vegas together and the reader and Cooper can't get a moment alone togther. Like Lucy accidently keeps interrupting or won't take the hint to leave, so Cooper at one point just says to her to leave so he can fuck the reader. Lucy feels so bad and leaves, and then the reader and Cooper go at it lol.

No worries if you can't do the request, I just want to say your an awesome writer!

Thanks❤️

Hey Anon ! Thx you so much for this request !

I reeeaaaaalllllly like this awkward plot. Here we go ! You u enjoy it.

Pls be cool, english is not my first langage.

+ 18 DNI / Cooper Howard/ The Ghoul x Reader / P in V/ Fingering/ Piece of violence/ Unprotect sex.

Banners by @saradika

Word : +/-2.6 k

My ask for Cooper Howard is Open

You wanted him.

There was nothing consistent with this need. Firstly because your first altercation wasn't anything like a love affair (unless hand-to-hand combat fell into that category), then because...Damn, he's more irradiated than a hundred power plants nuclear weapons combined.

But it was eating you up.

Eating away at every bit of your mind and reason. Every movement he made, every word that escaped his mouth made your stomach twist. It seduced you in all its horror, in all its brutality and you loved to consume yourself in this deep obsession.

And him too.

Oh yes. Him too.

You didn’t immediately notice what was happening until that evening. At the end of a grueling journey through the wastelands, you decided to take a break to spend the night in a less dangerous place. And through the flames of the pyre lit in the center of the small makeshift camp, you had seen his eyes. The look he gave you struck you to the core. You had not given in to his gaze, to the devouring glow that it contained in the shadow of his hat. He abused you psychologically, so much so that his mere presence next to you tortured you. The fascination that he skillfully distilled in your veins was no longer enough to contain the attraction you felt for him, and he played on it. As for who would be trapped first in these torments, you had no intention of giving up ground easily.

- There's a reserve there. You say, pointing to the cabin on the top of the hill. I'm going to look for something to burn.

No one had refuted the idea, not even Lucy who sat on a stone cuddling Dogmeat without even seeing what was happening before her eyes. This child was so innocent that she did not recognize a predator when he cohabited with her, much less the issues that were taking place under her nose. The shelter had provided a rare moment of peace during which you allowed yourself to breathe. On the table you were facing was a pile of old paper and some dry wooden rulers, enough to burn. It was a bargain to grab and you quickly put the whole thing together in your hands.

-I want to hear it.

The cold of his breath caressed your neck and made what you were carrying fall at arm's length. Without turning around, your eyes rolled towards the shadow that towered over you in all its height. He was so close to you that one movement would have been enough for him to grab you by the hip and flip you onto the table and, damn, that idea was more interesting than it should be.

Him. There. Behind you. Probably way too close.

-Hear what ?

- What you want. I want to hear you beg me to do it.

The laughter that left your mouth spread throughout the room, surprising even you with its brutality. It was the smartest thing to do, the healthiest reaction, and probably the best option you had left to not give in to him. Without a word, you turned around to lock your eyes with his, your hands firmly anchored in the old wood of this crumbling table to keep them at a safe distance from what they coveted.

-I never do that. To beg. Yet your eyes screamed otherwise and you sincerely hoped he was too blinded by his pride to understand it. Your irises lowered to scan it up and down as if it were an impregnable vestige.

-You can use your guns, a rope, or even your teeth. You will never hear me do such a thing, especially to you. I know how much pleasure it gives you.

- Oh, believe me, there are a lot of things that would give me pleasure right now.

There was nothing worse than this precise moment, suspended in the storm that has been brewing above you for too long. The storm swirled with your every glance, every moment his body was near yours, but nothing had yet managed to trigger the lightning.

Leave.

Your instincts proclaimed. Leave before you die in his arms. And probably that was what you wanted most in the world.

- Only in fairy tales do monsters and princesses love each other. And this world is not one.

However, your arms were already too close to his neck, his radiating your hips and pulling you to him without you putting up the slightest resistance.

It wasn't a fairy tale.

His burning scent consumed your nostrils and your heart was about to give in for good.

- In this world, monsters like to destroy pretty things.

A nervous laugh escaped your lips which you tried to keep away from his, but your butt was already hitting the wood of the table behind you when, suddenly, a noise made you jump.

- You are there ?

-Holy shit! He cursed, leaping away from you before propelling himself towards the door, a bloodthirsty impulse waving his hands as he opened the door to reveal your traveling companion.

Lucy.

Her eyes were full of innocence from long years in a shelter. Her smile and the sigh of relief she heaved when she discovered you in the shed made you want to laugh. She had no idea what had just happened.

- Oh damn! I was terribly afraid of never finding you again.

She exclaimed, putting an end to any possible attempt at approach. While Cooper nervously contained his desire to strangle her, you advanced towards him, a perfidious smile on your lips.

- I never liked spectators…

This is how the little game began.

-------------------

There are worse things than fear. Worse than impatience There is frustration. The one that itches, that annoys, the one that deflates the ardor that takes hold of you as the days pass. A frustration answering to the sweet name of Lucy. It is difficult for you to express to your friend the desire to see her leave. Not forever. Just a few moments, the space that would allow you to put an end to this duel between him and you.

To the looks. To provocations.

And his growing rage for your teammate. You were angry with him, with the way he spoke to her, his resentment which constantly burned his lips whenever he spoke to her. Lucy had taken the team's instructions literally without giving anyone a break.

She had only followed an order that came from him. But in a sense, this charade amused you, allowed you to understand that you were not the only one to be a slave to your impulses. He wasn't so scary after all. So weak in his humanity, at least in what remained of it. In a way, this fact reassured you that you were attracted, and it was pure madness. Then came this famous day. The route had taken an unexpected turn. An ambush set up in a ruined housing estate had seriously delayed you. Worse, while trying to hide, you had fallen into a hole, scraping your neck and abs against an iron rod.

- Are you injured? Oh, god, you're hurt !

Lucy had torn a section of her suit to quickly wrap the bleeding wound on her neck before arriving to safety. Once away from the danger zone and inside a building whose structure had reasonably withstood the disaster, she invited you to sit down as if you were about to die.

- I'm fine, I assure you.

- I really have to check.

Cooper hadn't said a word. It was a silence heavier than the chaos itself. A heavy silence, from which one could expect to see the worst horrors ensue. He had taken the chair away from the one you were sitting in and hadn't even laid eyes on you. An unpleasant tingling was felt in your neck when Lucy applied a treatment there, then tied the fabric again at the height of the wound. Tearing you away from the strange worry that was emerging within you. - You need to take off your top.

He was there. He had done nothing, not even for a moment had he tried to watch over you.

But that’s what a team does, right? Cannon fodder and fuck fodder, that's all you meant to him. And now that he had to slow down, that he had to take care of you, he seemed immersed in deep thought, probably looking for a way to get rid of you.

- There is nothing. I assure you.

- Do not joke. Do what I tell you. The space between those few seconds seemed eternal.

Not with him. Not when he's in this room.

This is what you should have answered, instead you saw yourself witnessing disaster. Your hands tugging at your t-shirt before taking it off, letting it fall to the floor, eyes focused on him.

Free fall.

A few seconds, his eyes on yours, his gaze wandering over your bare skin, the tingling of the scratch on your stomach blending into something else entirely. And a shot fired into the void, startling Lucy.

- Do you see that gun, Mclane? Lucy nodded, lips quivering.

- If you don't leave this room immediately, the next bul' that comes out of his barrel will end up in your skull.

- But…but…I didn’t… She paused for a moment, glancing over at you before turning back to Cooper, horrified.

- Don't worry about that, I'll take care of it.

- Oh my God. Oh my God, I,.. I,…

- Come out now, Lucy, please hurry up.

There was no need to give the blush time to flood her cheeks. She was too pure, too carefree to witness this. Because war was declared now, and nothing would stop it.

A second later, his hand closed around your aching neck, pushing you against the table.

- Say it.

- Bastard.

His burning hands ran over your skin, incandescent, they transformed your blood into magma. It was pure madness, but nothing was delicious than the violence with which he held you in this position, his hips firmly fitted to your ass.

- Oh, stop, someone had to tell her, right?

- I almost died.

-And whoever tried to do that ended up with their skull exploded. This is how it works and if you want to know… You could feel his breath on his neck, his hand searching for the opening of your pants. You could have easily pushed him away, but it was just to contradict him. Because you wanted him, almost as much as he did and for far too long.

- I wouldn't have hesitated to shoot her, too, if she had continued to bother us.

- Liar.

Your words died in a hot breath, his fingers already making their way through your panties, sliding along your warm pussy. You guessed the smile that distorted his mouth as you discovered the extent of what he provoked in you.

- I need to fuck you. He whispers in a harsh, trembling voice into the crook of your neck. I only think about this. Only you and it messes up my priorities.

- Do it, then.

- Before, I want you to be at my mercy.

You giggled. It was out of the question to give him anything, yet his fingers caressing you made you less certain of your convictions. Your hips rocked to his rhythm and he was heavily satisfied with what he felt.

- So wet. So impatient. How long has it been, huh? How many times have you been touched while waiting for this moment.

- Too much.

Your hands moved to your back, reaching for the buckle of his belt, stroking the obvious erection in the seat of his pants. He wasn't going to bring you to your knees, at his mercy, without paying the consequences. You needed it, anyway.

Need to feel him inside you. Need it to make you forget the horror of the world in which you were moving. Because you didn't like reality, it was unbearable for you to think about the future that this disgusting world had in store for you. The waves his fingers sent through your body were so violent that you looked for support to stay upright. But he didn't see it that way: you had no right to stop petting him without asking his opinion. So, holding you firmly with one hand, he grabbed the second to invite you to continue.

-You can't just collapse like that, sugar. Not now, not after what you promise me.

The orgasm he provoked in you tore your soul apart. There was no way Lucy could have missed the sound of your voice, no matter where she had taken refuge to escape it. She heard it and it would probably haunt her for the rest of her life.

For a brief moment, he pulled away from you to turn you around to face him, taking off your pants, probably tearing a few sections of them in the process. Then, lifting you up to allow you to wrap your feverish legs around his waist, he pinned you firmly against the table.

His mouth crashed onto yours, devouring all of the air that tried to escape your lips. You bit him almost to blood, desperately, greedily. It was like your life depended on his mouth and what he was going to do to you. He devours you without respite, crushing my lips in a destructive kiss, then kissing your face, your neck, your jaw and your closed eyelids. His erect penis tickled the entrance to your vagina and this sensation made you lose the little reason you had left.

- Please. Please…

- Please what? He slowly rocked his hips to let his cock slide down the length of your sex.

-Please fuck me.

He laughed nervously. He had managed to get what he wanted. Like always. He had you and all your passion. You had never had to beg anyone in your life, but the world had changed and you had met Cooper Howard, two parameters which alone had transformed you greatly.

- I won't be delicate.

- Go ahead, I won't be the one begging you to spare me.

You felt dizzy because your body was calling for it. His hand came to rest against your throat as he stood up in front of you, dominant and impatient. You knew this was going to be exactly how you both wanted it to be, like animals, in a dingy old shed while some poor girl waited for you outside. Your bodies finally collided with rare violence, extracting a grunt of satisfaction and pain from you. His hips pounded against yours like his life depended on it, his fingers still firmly placed on your clit.

It was too much, too much.

Him, his gaze which never stopped contemplating your pleasure.

What he provoked in you. The expression he wore. You could no longer contain the slightest sound emanating from your mouth, so as if to save what was left of you, you brought a fist to your lips, muffling every cry that tried to escape you. But that wasn't how he saw things. Still pounding into you, he removed his fingers to grab your wrist, pulling it away from your mouth to pin it firmly to the table.

- Let it be heard. I want her to understand that she must never interfere between us again, understand?

You no longer had enough strength to speak, but your head was bobbing up and down frantically. You didn't care anymore if she heard anything, at this point in the situation the desire that was swelling throughout was so depraved that you were ready for him to fuck you in front of his eyes.

He was close, you could feel it in the way his hips met yours. It was painful and delicious at the same time, but there was no way you were going to cum without him. Not without seeing the orgasm distort the features of his face. And he didn't resist much longer, exploding in a deep, throaty pleasure, propelling you with him away from all this mess.

Then silence.

A moment of floating in which you slowly let yourself be drawn into. He had gotten what he wanted.

You too.

He stepped aside, giving you the chance to stand up before adjusting his hat on his head again. You glance at each other before guessing the satisfied smile that appears on his lips, the situation made you want to laugh.

Nothing was less certain than the fact that Lucy was still able to look you in the eyes now.

#fallout prime #fallout tv #fallout show #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard #cooper howard/the ghoul #the ghoul #Cooper howard/the ghoul x reader

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capcollector · 2 months

Text

BUNNY LEE SANTOS - SOLE SURVIVOR OF VAULT 111

PRE-WAR

Born June 14th, 2045 (32 in 2077)

Originally from Los Angeles, Bunny doesn’t really consider her life beginning until she landed her first modeling jobs. She became a highly sought after model, often photographed for commercial print and fashion, but she really took off once she began doing pin-ups. Her career as a pin-up girl made her famous, and everyone wanted to have Bunny Santos around. She was a party girl, known for her charm, quick wit, and dirty sense of humor. When it came to drinking and smoking and partying all night long, she could handle her own against just about anyone.

After many years living it up in LA with plenty of celebs, Bunny decided to move to New York for work. The change of scenery was nice, and she was still getting to continue the exciting lifestyle she’d grown accustomed to. At some point around 2075 or so, Bunny was invited as a special guest/entertainment for soldiers and veterans in Boston, and she decided to attend. And though she didn’t know it at the time, this was a decision that was going to alter her life forever. Here she met Nate, a soldier who’d recently been discharged due to a leg injury.

What she just assumed was a little playful flirting soon spiraled into actual dates. And initially, she really did have fun. A part of her really did fall in love with Nate. But just as suddenly he sprang a marriage proposal on her and she felt like she couldn’t say no. The two were married within a year of meeting.

Nate was a very adamant man. Someone who could be a little too dramatic for her liking, but she knew he meant well. Nate was determined to reenter the civilian workforce, and he dreamed of living that idyllic suburban lifestyle. Bunny, who made exponentially more money than he did, offered to buy a nice townhouse or apartment for them in the heart of Boston (since Nate insisted they lived in MA), but he refused, and the two landed in the suburbs, much to Bunny’s dismay. Suddenly it felt like her life was on hold, cut short by forces out of her control. She was no longer Bunny Santos, the favorite pin-up girl of the stars who always had a story to tell or party trick to perform. She was Bunny Santos, housewife. But she’d flash that million dollar smile and put on this role for Nate because…that’s what she’s supposed to do, right? As she had her internal crises, she discovered she was pregnant on top of all of this too. She wasn’t planning on this, but in its own way it made her feel less alone. Like she had someone to talk to, even if he was just a baby. Having Shaun gave her something to work for (ever the busybee).

THE WAR & 200 YEARS LATER

And of course, everything is completely upended. And though at the first the shock and loss seems too great a tragedy for her to bear, the end of the world became its own strange blessing in disguise. She found the freedom she’d been looking for again. She didn’t have to hide who she was anymore. Her life was her own again. That isn’t to say she wanted Nate dead, not at all. He was her husband, the father of her child, the charismatic man she’d met that evening who took her on some fantastic dates. She loved him. But she didn’t like him. She always felt like she inadvertently had to hide parts of herself to become this image of what he wanted their life together to be, and now that the world’s gone to shit and she’s on her own again, she can be in charge of her life once more. And her first order of business was getting her son back.

After stumbling out of the Vault shivering and confused, she predictably encountered Dogmeat first (after seeing Codsworth at the remains of her house, of course), which led her to Concord and helping out Preston. After aiding him in getting the survivors to Sanctuary, she gets directions to Diamond City and frantically makes her way there (though she actually ends up in Covenant first, but she leaves after a less-than-ideal encounter). Once in Diamond City, she learns about the Valentine Detective Agency and subsequently rescues Nick—even using her silver tongue to talk their way out of things with Darla and Skinny Malone.

Nick and Bunny set off together, determined to find Kellogg. After Nick and Bunny track down and kill him, they land in Goodneighbor for the Memory Den. They meet Hancock and Maccready, the latter of the two joining them after Bunny gives him some caps, while Hancock just keeps an eye on the new girl for now. Intrigued about what she keeps learning, Bunny and Nick end up at the Railroad, saved only by Deacon telling the others of her journey so far. After some back and forth, Bunny agrees to help the Railroad as much as she can now (doing things like runs with Deacon to get her used to their system), but she makes it clear that getting her son back is her first priority for now.

When she returns to Sanctuary and begins to help Preston and Sturges get the survivors more settled (as well as a little rest for herself), Preston brings up the Minutemen and her helping bring them back to former glory. Even as their leader. And she refuses. Bunny does not see herself as leader, nor does she want to be anyone’s savior. Preston disagrees, and keeps the offer open for her if she changes her mind. She agrees to help him out, but she does not want to be the general.

Being her usual self, she realizes she’s intrigued by the Brotherhood of Steel, if for no other reason than she wonders if their obvious firepower would aid her in finding the Institute faster than anyone else. She’s rightfully wary, though, as she’s spent a lifetime surrounded by Nate’s military friends and she’d do just fine without having to talk to another one. But if there’s one thing Bunny knows how to do, it’s how to talk her way around things. And over the last year (well, last year she can remember), she’s had a lot of experience talking to soldiers and the like. She knows how they operate. So when she and Deacon happen to encounter Danse and his squad fending off Ghouls, they step in to help. Deacon is unsure of her gameplan, but he trusts her enough to see where she’s going with it.

So for a while, Bunny has a hand in every faction. She ultimately spends the most time with the Railroad, mainly due to Deacon, and together with them they build the machine they need to infiltrate the Institute. But it’s around this point, right before they’re planning to send her in, that Bunny has a realization. She’s going to get her son back, finally, after all these months of work. And yes, the Railroad is gonna help her do it. But what comes next? The Railroad has their big plans for rescuing the Synths, and she agrees with their ideals, but what about the Commonwealth itself? It’s not like she can go home to California or New York (no one’s really told her what either of those places is like these days, oddly enough…), and she refuses to leave her new friends behind. They’re her whole world. Of course she’s staying here. But does the Railroad really have a plan in place for the future? With Shaun’s return imminent, Bunny has to ask herself: what is best for my baby? This weighs heavily on her mind as she’s sent to the Institute.

Her initial meeting with Father goes as well as you’d expect. She feels gutted. Not only by the obvious age difference, but more than anything by what he’s become. The way he looks at her. How cold it all feels. How dismissive he is of the world and the people above ground. Her baby—who before all this was all she had, the only thing in this world that made her feel less alone—is all at once a force that is entirely unfamiliar to her. There is no relief in finding Shaun. He isn’t Shaun. He doesn’t even respond to that anymore. There is no grand catharsis, no joyous reunion, no love. She feels as empty as she does the day she woke up from her cryo chamber.

When she returns to the surface, it’s all work for Desdemona and the others, though Deacon can see on her face that clearly something wasn’t right, but he doesn’t push the issue.

Maybe she can’t save Shaun, maybe it was never possible. To her, Bunny, Nate, and Shaun all died in that Vault. A piece of her was left behind there. A part of herself she could never return to. But she has to deal with what’s left of herself today. Now. And she’ll have to deal with herself tomorrow. And the next day, and the next. So she goes to Preston and agrees that she’ll seriously help him revive the Minutemen (something he’d already been working on without her, but her presence will help expedite things—especially since she and Hancock just so happened to already clear out The Castle a month earlier on a whim), if he just gives her a little more time.

Bunny returns to the Institute not long after. She’s not sure what to do. She’s been given her tasks by the Railroad, sure, but her meeting with Father gnaws away at her. The things he said. The disregard for the people above ground. That same stubbornness, that same insistence. She goes to him again. He talks to her frankly, because surely she’s planning to live the rest of her life down here. Surely she knows this is what’s supposed to come next.

What happens next is a blur. She is banished from the Institute. Did she do it because she wanted to get banned? Because she wanted the Minutemen to be in charge of the Commonwealth’s future? Did she do it to quell an anger she didn’t know she had? In an uncharacteristic display of vagary, she made a choice that once again would change everything. But this time she knew it would.

She’s alone in the dark when she’s returned to the surface. No one’s around. No one came with her. The night is uncharacteristically quiet on the walk to the Old North Church. When she admits to Desdemona she’s been banished from the Institute, Dez does not press for why. Deacon watches solemnly across the table. He’s not sure why either. And he will never know.

But in comes the Minutemen, here to see the Railroad’s plans through, though more importantly to the Minutemen themselves, the future of the Commonwealth altogether. And when the time comes to finally destroy the Institute, Bunny asks the one person who’s been her anchor through it all: Nick. When they watch it blow up before them, amidst the cheers and congrats from the Minutemen, Bunny just silently grabs Nick’s hand and leans her head against his shoulder. Things can begin again.

POST-MAIN GAME CANON

Once all is said and done, Bunny feels a newfound sense of motivation, something to work towards and continue. She begins to focus her time on building up the settlements, especially Sanctuary and the nearby Red Rocket so Shaun (the Synth) has a nice place to live. She’s determined to make this work. She’s determined to have her life back, to be in control of it again, to do things right.

I think in her canon the next big “story” she goes on is Nuka World, though it’s initially framed as Bunny and Hancock’s bender gone wrong. One minute you’re planning to get drunk and high and ride faulty amusement park rides then the next you’re in a fucking death match with a guy in electrified power armor. Once they deal with everything there, and after having several profound moments together as they reflect on everything that’s happened and how they wanna move forward, they get back to the Commonwealth. Bunny and Deacon finally make things more official, for one, and shortly after their return, Bunny and Hancock encounter Sop @radroachrepellent’s Cherry and save her from a Deathclaw. But more on that another time. This post is long enough and I’ll probably make longer separate posts for the DLCs and how they play out in Bunny’s canon so I’ll just put it simply that I think the DLC order for her goes:

Nuka World -> Far Harbor -> Automatron (a varied amount of weeks between each one)

Sop and I are working on a joint story together that we’ve named the “Electric Eden DLC” which will get its own post eventually, but that one takes place about close to a year after the events of Far Harbor.

I was gonna include a section on the Companions, but this came out way longer than I thought it would, and I wanna draw a lineup of all the companions, so I think I’ll save it for that. I guess the important thing to note is that Bunny and Deacon end up together (here’s a piece of lore for them).

MISC

Bunny’s strength lies in her ability to talk to others. Though she’s physically not the strongest or most agile, she can very notably talk her way out of a lot of things. She knows how to read the room and the people within it, and she knows how to use that to her advantage. A lifetime of schmoozing with celebrities translates well into survival situations, she’s found.

She loves to plan ahead and be stealthy when she can. Since she’s pretty small comparatively, she prefers to use guns and ranged weapons so she can keep her distance and stay hidden when possible.

She loves to pick up stuffed animals she finds on her journeys and keeps a teddy bear clipped to her belt.

Can handle her alcohol and will use chems on occasion. Social chem user, or something.

Dirty sense of humor and fun-loving, despite everything that’s happened. She’s made a point to not lose that part of herself. I think her and Hancock deciding to go on a Nuka World bender is evidence enough.

She knew how to lockpick before the war! It was a party trick of hers.

Okay this is long enough. Anyway I’m more than happy to answer any asks about her/her canon, and if you read all of this, thank you!

#bunny santos (sole survivor)#my art tag #fallout 4 #fallout

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