#dug in the vault | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

leviathanleva · 1 month

Text

Daisy

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader [DARK FIC]

Description: Cooper Howard was not a kind man, he cared for nobody, but himself. Then he found you, a lost little dove, barefoot and crying, torn dress and big innocent eyes staring at him like he was a hero. He knew you’d be a burden, he knew you couldn’t survive in the wasteland, he was doing you a favor.

But he couldn’t pull the fucking trigger...

........................

[Minor Violence, Non-consensual Choking]

[5.4k words]

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Chapter 2 "The Proposition"

You wanted to say something desperately, but your mouth came dry and empty and you promptly closed it to avoid any stray specs of sand. Your neck ached from having to keep it so profoundly craned just to hold eye contact and avoid the gun from pressing against your Adam’s apple.

His boots sunk in the dune as he juggled his weight tantalizingly, prowling in front of you and looking like he was ready to pounce. He was staring at you like you weren’t even human and it made sense because he didn’t look like one. The sun scratched at your exposed shoulders and upper back, hair pooled over your face and breasts and no longer acting as a shield for your delicate skin. It hurt, it burned, your flesh felt like it was cooking on a barbeque rack, but there was nothing you could do except take it like a champ and worry about it later.

This was not how you imagined the world above to be… You never thought you’d be attacked by giant roaches or chased by deranged criminals smelling of shameless cannibalism or held at gunpoint by the man…thing, that saved your life. You never imagined it was this bad up here, so desolate and askew, everything was old, rusted, worn, and crumbling and you had half the mind to just go back and let the raiders kill you and make their threats a reality of making you into human jerky.

The gun tapping incessantly against your cheek failed to pull you out of the depths of your spinning thoughts. But when it was forcibly pressed against the center of your forehead, nearly knocking you back on your arse, you stiffened with a gasp.

Your hero was becoming impatient.

“Never seen a ghoul before, Darlin’?” he asks with somewhat of a frown, his agitation brewing with your silent treatment and mindblown stare. He pranced around you, circling your kneeling, hunched-over form as you tried following his movements with doubtful eyes and a racing heart. “You been livin’ under a fucking rock?”

His gun was cocked and ready to fire, a steady forefinger resting over the trigger in case you decided to be stupid and try to run or lunge at him. He scoffed at the idea but kept his guard up just in case. After so many years of roaming, he’d seen just about everything, he wasn’t risking it no matter how defenseless you appeared at first glance.

“N-No…No, Sir. Never seen a…ghoul. Before.” you forced the words out, fearing his wrath, and clung to your sides as your hands kneaded through the soft material of your dress. Your head lowered obediently, lashes shielding your darting irises as they read his every movement. “A rock? No, I – “

It took him a single spin to notice the Pip-boy slapped over your wrist and his eyes hardened. He stopped by your side, towering over you, and ripped your arm away, clutching it in his hand with a roughness you’d never experienced before. You winced as he leaned over to inspect the device and grimaced with a twitching upper lip.

“ – A vault dweller…” he spat and his gloved fingers dug into your flesh. He ignored your whiney noise of protest, jostling you into silence before shooting a flesh-searing glare right into your soul. “You a vaulty?”

“What? I – No! Yes. Wait – ” you stammered when he dug a knee into the sand and let your arm go before gathering a handful of hair on the back of your head and forcing your neck back to make you look at him. He was…menacing, practically bolting you to the ground with a single glare. “Wait! Please, wait. Please! I – ” your hands shot up to grip his wrist, trembling and useless as you pleaded. He dug the gun under your chin, preventing you from swallowing. “Please, I did. I lived in a vault, but I don’t know anything! Please, please, I promise. Don’t – “ your eyes frantically shot down at where the barrel sunk into your skin, teeth chattering as your lashes heavied with tears.

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?!” he snarled, leaning so close that if he had a nose it would have bumped into yours. His breath stank of spirit and you tried to recoil but were promptly jerked back into place.

It didn’t click in your brain what had upset him so. The vaults were created to preserve humanity and its antics from before the bombs, it was for the betterment of the future. It was so that his children could eventually live better lives after you finally left the sanctuary of the underground and restored order to the surface, or so you’ve read. It made no sense for him to hate you based on a stupid Pip-boy that wasn’t even yours, you’d done nothing to him, you didn’t even know him! How could he be so nonchalantly cruel? How could he touch you without your consent? What gave him the right!?

The firearm digging into your flesh told you what.

“I was sick!” you wail, fighting back your tears and a pitiful stutter from poisoning your reply. His grip on your hair tightened and you twitched in pain, shaking like a leaf beneath him and clutching at his wrist in a silent plea to let you go. “I was isolated. I didn’t know anyone but my mom and dad, I didn’t do anything. I don’t know!” you debated for your life, prolonging his spine-chilling intentions. Bargaining with the devil was a difficult task when your body and mind worked against you, all blabbering words and choppy thoughts and jittery limbs. “The vault was taken over and I ran and I don’t know anything about the people and I just – Please…My parents are dead…Please, Mister, please don’t shoot…” you beg through sobs and a sniffling nose, tugging at his iron grip to no avail.

With a grunt and a flexing jaw, he threw you back, treating you with disregard equal to tossing out a piece of garbage, releasing you to curl up protectively over yourself, and standing. His gun clicked and he secured it back in the holster on his hip.

You instinctively rub at the tender area on the back of your head with a dissatisfied plaint, locking your thighs to obscure your exposed privates. Propped up on one hand and with a shaken look, you watched him spit and turn, his expression solid and distasteful and beating down on you for no reason that you could comprehend. Your breaths begin to event out and you swallow with a shuddering hum.

He turned away, drawing distance between you with stiff steps, fighting his resolve as his hand itched to draw his weapon and just shoot you on the spot.

But he couldn’t…

You weren’t worth the bullet, he repeated that bitter sentence under his breath to convince himself that he hesitated and withdrew simply because you were a waste of ammunition. It wasn’t your doe-eyed stare and too-soft-for-this-world skin that felt like silk when your tiny fingers had lingered under the edge of his sleeve. It wasn’t your delicate, shiny hair that looked like it would tear under his hold or the thick, heavy lashes that framed your eyes and held your tears that shone like diamonds in the sunlight. It definitely wasn’t that tiny dress that hugged your little frame and would make any goon go rabid from just a glance. You were no wastelander, didn’t look like any vault dweller who had crossed his path, you were too soft even for the life before the bombs. He didn’t know what you were, but you weren’t worth the cogitation.

You weren’t worth the bullet. You weren’t worth anything. You were nothing.

You were –

“ – Wait!” you hurry to rise and stumble after him. Despite his demeanor, he was the only thing that hadn’t tried to kill you on sight, and without anything or anyone else around, you had mentally latched onto him as your hero. “Mister, wait! You can’t just – “

He raised his weapon and pointed it at you faster than you could blink. Your hands shot up to shield your face and you shrunk in submission, rapidly blinking and with a hesitant look.

“Come closer.” he barks and cocks his gun, arm extended and eerily steady. “See what happens.”

“I – You can’t just leave me here!“ you protest, mustering what confidence you could, scraping at the bottom of a barrel that was emptied the moment you had set foot outside the vault. You straighten when no bullets come and your palms curl into fists, stomping a foot for emphasis. “That’s not right. You can’t just ditch me.”

“Watch me, Princess.” he chuckled, sneered, and bared his yellowish teeth at you like a dog. He gestured with the gun in dismissal and rested his free hand on his hip after flinging his coat back. “Now get!”

“I don’t know where to get.” you whine and curl your fingers in air quotes in a brash display, pushing your luck and mocking his conceit because you were so desperate you took your chances. “I don’t even know where I am!”

He just snorts at you, unbothered and uncaring, and proceeds on his way with a flick of his wrist, refusing to entertain your tantrum any longer.

You didn’t understand how someone could turn down a person in need, it made no sense, the lack of compassion was incomprehensible and so…inhuman. How could a man be this purposefully ignorant of another’s struggle and choose not to do anything? You could never turn down a cry for help, not that you’d ever been faced with such a situation before, but you knew you wouldn’t. So what had this ghoul lived through to be so detached and devoid of sympathy? How much had he been hurt to abandon emotion entirely for the sake of a still mind and dreamless sleep?

What kind of world forced a man to abandon his humanity…

Fueled by frustration, you take a few steps after him, so hellbent on keeping the spotless image of your hero you had forced upon his shoulders that your rationality couldn’t break through your naivety. He couldn’t be this cruel after saving your life and not even bringing up the possibility of a reward. He had to have a soft spot somewhere, beneath the rags and the ruggedness and the hissy threats and brutish actions. He was still a person just like you even if the harshness of the surface had disfigured both his body and soul, you believed in him, you had to for your own preservation.

He heard you move, heard the rustling of fabric and the shuffling of sand, and snapped with a cornered animal.

“Oh I’ve had about enough of you!” he snarled and whirled around, covering the distance between you with three long, menacing strides. Your startled scream was cut short when he squeezed your neck and forced you down on your back like your resistance against him didn’t even exist. He caged you beneath his tights, keeping you in place as you clawed at his stone-firm grip and gasped apologies and pleas through labored breaths. The gun knocked against the side of your forehead to stifle you into stilling. It clicked threateningly as he applied pressure to the trigger, sunken eyes staring down at you without any hesitation. “First rule of the wasteland, Sweetheart.” he grumbled through gritted teeth and a stiff jaw, tightening his chokehold until your eyes rolled back and you burst into a fit of coughs. “Don’t trust nobody.”

Your mind raced fervently, battling against the lack of oxygen and trying to search for anything in your memory that could guarantee you even a chance at surviving his unrelenting assault. A sliver of hope as unconsciousness splotched the edges of your vision with viscous darkness. Your ears screeched as blood thrashed around in your head and face, bulging and boiling, trapped and unable to reach the rest of your writhing body. Your feet kicked and thrashed without results and no matter how deep your nails sank in his leathery skin he didn’t so much as flinch. Spit dribbled from the corner of your gaping mouth, the threat of the gun completely discarded due to suffocation and your lungs screamed and burned with the scarce air.

And he just watched you struggle with a solemn visage and jagged features.

“Say something! ANYTHING! THINK OF SOMETHING!!!”

“Water!” you croak and it was nearly unintelligible, but he understood.

“What?” he hisses and his grip on your throat slacks enough for you to finally suck in a full breath.

You gulp greedily at the dry, scorching air, groaning in octaves so low you couldn’t recognize your own voice. Supposedly having your neck nearly crushed like a rotten pencil did that to one’s vocal cords. You relax beneath him and hold onto his forearm for support as if he hadn’t been the cause of your near-death experience. You cling to him like a lost child and not his victim and it utterly baffles him. He tried to find a glimmer of hatred or disgust, anything that would deter him enough to just shoot you and get this overextended fiasco to an end, anything that would let him pull the fucking trigger. There’s nothing though, just desperation and confusion and fright and you had placed him as the only barrier between yourself and the rest of the world and even when he watched the life drain from you as you fought for breath you still didn’t even glare at him. You were just too pure, undefiled by the cruelty of the world you’d set off to venture and a tiny, once-dead part of him boiled at the incessant thought of you falling into the hands of a less kind man. What if someone else had found you first…

“There’s a storage safehouse. It was made for emergencies.” you gasp and clear your throat, pushing past the need to gag and looking up at him because you were taught that holding eye contact was a good thing when speaking about something of grave importance. He softened above you and leaned away and you took that as your cue to continue. “Those people, the ugh…the bad guys can’t get to it. It’s hidden and you need a Pip-boy to unlock it.” you gulp audibly and wince at the soreness before licking at your chapped lips and wiping the drool off your cheek. “It’s full of food and water…and stimpaks and bandages and…whatever you wish. You can take all of it just – ” a wave of trembles racked through you and you tried to suppress a whimper, but couldn’t. “ – Please, just help me get to it…I just want to go home, Sir…”

“Thought you said you didn’t know anything, Princess? You tryna lie to me now?” his chin dipped as he cocked his head to the side. His voice was flat, and his cold demeanor breaching through your dress and nipping at your insides until you were littered with goosebumps despite being pinned down in a desert in the middle of the day.

“I don’t…I’ve never been there – I was an archive keeper. I know everything in theory I just never knew the people except my parents…But I can find my way to it just by memory, I know where it is I just need to walk around a bit and – ”

“ – Stop yappin’.” he scolded, cutting your rant short before tucking away his gun.

He took a moment to mull over your words, still keeping you locked beneath him while you laid there like a corpse and prayed wordlessly as anticipation punched at your churning stomach. He rubbed at his chin, tongue twisting in his mouth as if he were tasting your proposition. His eyes dipped down to your scrawny form, done skimming over the barren desert sea and deciding this didn’t need much more contemplation. You got to go home and get off his back, he got supplies for a good few weeks, and a handful of raiders would end up dead. Simple. Easy. He could do that.

“Done deal.”

You nearly cried out in joy at his words.

Then he finally stood and gripped your upper arm before roughly pulling you to your feet and you nearly faceplanted in his chest at the force. He laughs as you flounder and fight not to trip, the baritone of his voice sending you spiraling into a pit of embarrassment and abashment because he was the first person you had ever properly met and you were making a fool of yourself. There was a feint, innocent need prickling at your heart, you wished you could’ve impressed him, and made a good first impression, but that had been thrown out the window in its entirety the moment he’d pointed a gun at you.

Now you were torn between needing him close because he was your only source of comfort and wanting to slap him because he was such a rude and foul man. Who even pointed a weapon at an unarmed woman?

He did…the bastard.

“Shoulda just started with the storage, Missy.” he teases as if he’d not nearly killed you a few minutes ago, all lighthearted and smirking. He holds your arm until you’re stable enough to stand on your own and you’re grateful even if a bit abrasive. “Coulda saved us a whole lot of tusslin’.”

“I would have, sir, but you – “

“ – Sssst!” he susses you like one would a mischievous cat and your lips are sealed in an instant. Then he nudged his head forward and readjusted the collar of his coat after releasing you. “Walk.”

Deciding you’ve run your luck dry for the day, you let go of a snarky remark hanging on the tip of your tongue and do as instructed, trudging through the dunes as the familiar sting returns to the bare soles of your feet. Now, however, you had a nasty gash on your ankle to boot and it didn’t help that it was slowly getting covered by specs of sand that rubbed excruciatingly against your exposed flesh.

God damn those roaches, they were a menace when they were tiny! Now? You mouthed at the recollection.

You bite your tongue to keep from whining when the hurt becomes too unbearable, the rest of the time you were heaving with an open mouth as the idea of licking at your sweat for some sort of thirst relief grew. You’d not known thirst until today, it was worse than any needle or medical practice your father had used on you, you couldn’t even swallow properly, the motion happened automatically and you cringed at the stickiness of your dried-up throat.

It was too hot and you were woefully unprepared to deal with it or any of the other discomforts tugging your nerves thin. It bothered you how unphased he seemed by the harsh weather, one glance at him told you he hadn’t even broken a sweat. He was covered from head to toe in heavy clothes and strode with confidence and ease as if he were taking a walk through a park. You shrug without realizing it, too sunken into your head. Maybe he doesn’t have sweat glands anymore.

The sun was finally moving, sinking to the west and casting dramatic shadows over the desert. As his shadow grew, you found sanctuary in it from the still-sizzling rays and sighed in relief. It was a tiny drop of comfort, but it was enough to ease some of your strain. The muscles in your thighs were numb from overexertion for the first time in your life and you dreaded the cramps you’d have to deal with later on. The skin on your feet was smooth as butter from the intense exfoliation of walking through sand for so long, that was an interesting little fact you’d never heard of before. Dead skin cells could be removed by rubbing coarse surfaces over the body. Dope.

Locking yourself in the sanctity of your head and isolating your surroundings, you were numb and blind to how your legs shook. It wasn’t until you collapsed and tasted brittle little specs on your tongue that you realized you were lying down.

The ghoul paused and turned to look at you over his shoulder with profane boredom.

“Didn’t tell you to stop, Princess.”

“Mm…My legs don’t work.” you state before even realizing the cruciality of that bit of information. Your eyes pop open and the exhausted expression vanishes in an instant, you prop up on your elbows and stare back at the limp limbs. Panic ensues, pumping through you like a drug as a dry sob punctures your chest. “My legs don’t…My legs!”

“What in the hell!”

He’s on you in an instant, bent over and pushing at your shoulder until you roll on your back, the spaces where his eyebrows should be are locked together and he shushes your cries with a curt noise, but you’re too stressed to acknowledge it. There are no more tears left, your nose can’t even fill with snot from dehydration, and you end up a mess of ragged sobs and loud wails as you paw at your legs to wake them up. You double over and clutch at your upset stomach with a shaky hand as your teeth grit in dread.

If he hadn’t left you behind yet, he would now…

And you couldn’t even debate him on it this time, you wouldn’t even be able to stalk him if he tried.

“I can’t move them…” you hiccup. You manage to wiggle your toes but lifting your foot or bending a knee just doesn’t register, instead, you get a few twitches from the spent muscles and nothing else. The worst scenario plagues your sanity and you look to the ghoul for guidance because there is no one else. “What if – ”

“ – Shut the hell up!” he scolds and shoots you a brief glare before averting his eyes down as he cups a large gloved palm in the junction of your knee before lifting your thigh in uncharacteristically gentle examination. His thumb dips in your supple flesh, rubbing in circles, searching for something to hint him in on what the issue was, the concentration evident on his distinct features. Your cries die down to whimpers as he juts a finger against your lips. “You – “ he sighs and after a handsy inspection of your other leg, covers his eyes with his hand and presses down on his eyelids as the urge to hold you in another chokehold resurfaces. “ – You’re just fucking tired, you smooth-skinned little – ” he huffs and halts the slew of curses less you start crying even harder.

You don’t have time to react when he grips your sides and lifts you in the air before tossing you over his shoulder like a sack of tatoes. You wretch when his shoulder digs into your stomach and cough it off with arms flailing. Shaky hands clutch at the back of his coat as he secures one arm around your bare thighs and begins walking as if he’s not carrying another full-grown adult.

“Throw up on me and I will fucking blow your head off.”

He understood your sheltered way of thinking, but this was fucking unheard of. A newborn probably had more stamina than you, more strength too if your display of power earlier while he had you pinned down was the brink of your ability. You were so fragile it was annoying, you wouldn’t last a day out here, would’ve ended up as radroach food if he hadn’t stepped in. You were scrawnier than most people he’d seen and he’d seen plenty, and those who were smaller were on the brink of death from starvation. Who the hell went out in the wasteland unarmed?!

You did…fucking idiot.

“Thank you.” you mumble and audibly exhale, despite his threat, closing your eyes at his scarce kindness and smiling through bitten-down lips to cease your sobbing. You tried ignoring the fact that your butt was a few inches away from his face or that his hat grazed against your side with every step he took. Such bashful thoughts had no right to take up space in your head, but then again, he was your first friend and just having him around shot bolts of excitement through you.

Sure, he was a bit…rough around the edges. But he had saved you and he was carrying you back home. And he was a surface dweller who’d probably never known the comforts of the vaults so you couldn’t hold him accountable for being aggressive. Well, you could, and technically should, but you knew better than to bite the hand that feeds you.

“Don’t thank me, Princess.” he snorts and pats your thigh in feign caringness. “You owe me supplies. I ain’t gonna let you cheat me outta that.”

“There’s a few of them, though…the criminals, I mean.” you mused over what to call them while chewing on your bottom lip, hanging off the shoulder of a ghoul in a thin sundress, carried through a desert, like it was just a normal day.

They had looked more like bandits, but what else were you supposed to label them as? The judgment system was a thing of the past, so what were these people considered now? Outlaws? You continue with a pang of concern, fearing for the safety of your rugged savior, too attached to the idea of companionship and just sick of seeing violence. You’d had enough for one day.

“Are you sure you can handle them? They didn’t seem very friendly.”

“First off, they’re called raiders. Everyone ‘round here’s a criminal now.” he laughed, tipping his head back and you feel the raspy chortle swell your chest.

You liked him happy, he was almost charming this way. Or maybe it was a “Rescue Romance” you were experiencing and the ghoul was just a crusty weird man who had saved you without considering what a pest you might turn out to be. You’d try to find that one psychology book and re-read it once you got back home just to make sure.

“Stop swooning!”

“Second, it’s my job. I’m a bounty hunter, Sweetheart. I kill people for a livin’.” he tilted his hollow nose to the side, addressing you properly as he spoke, and if you’d seen the gesture you would have appreciated it.

“Oh,…a bounty hunter? Like in the Old West then! I’ve read so much about that!” you squeak and perk up, wiggling in excitement as your face beams. Your calf twitched as some feeling returned to your limp legs and it only added to your brightened mood. Now you could actually feel the cool texture of his coat gliding against your skin.

You didn’t see his features grim or how his hat tipped to obscure sunken eyes and hide the brisk vulnerability swirling in them or the flash of regret, the pain, the little piece of humanity he didn’t even know he still had. His grip on your thigh tightened and you strayed to one side and glanced at the back of his head in question, expecting him to be more boastful about his job. Instead, he was mournfully silent and you feared you’d said something wrong, reopened an old would accidentally.

“Just like the Old West, yeah.” he nodded with a low grunt and you frowned. The words slip past his teeth with such dreadful familiarity that you can’t help the curiosity that would no doubt be your downfall one day. You press a tender palm between his shoulder blades, more for your sake rather than his, and pray he didn’t change his mind to drop you and leave.

You doubted books were a common luxury in this crumbling world, you also doubted the ghoul was a man of knowledge, he didn’t look like the type to read. Maybe there were still movie cassettes and TVs in good enough shape to be used and that’s how he learned of the old cowboy history. As slim as those possibilities were, they made more sense than him being alive before the apocalypse and still walking the earth in the present time. His distorted appearance didn’t give you any indicators of his age, so trying to guess was out of the question, but even then the war was over two hundred years ago. He couldn’t possibly…

Maybe you were simply overthinking, but the way he’d said it sounded like he’d lived through it and the longer you pondered over that the sharper your awareness became.

“How long do ghouls live, Mister?” you ask, uncertain of what he’d answer, but holding onto your speculations until he did.

“That the vault?” he shoots back, coming to a halt and straightening and completely sweeping away your inquiry.

It was a good enough answer and despite your gnawing curiosity, you decided not to press the matter further because you didn’t know how far his courtesy extended before he had his gun pressed to your temple again.

You hadn’t even noticed how much ground he’d covered with you slumped over him, everything around you looked the same and with fatigue fogging your lapse of time it wasn’t surprising. He was built for endurance or…mutated for it. What exactly was a ghoul, anyway?

You coil around him like a snake and he holds you secure as you clutch at his shoulder and turn until you can see what he sees.

The distinct metal of the vault door glinted in the dying sunlight, mostly concealed by debris and toppled over stone blocks.

Everything around you was bathed in warm hues of maroon and deep orange and for just a moment the world felt so peaceful. The sun had almost completely set, dipping behind golden dunes, the breeze hollered a deft, haunted tune and there was no noise besides you and the ghoul’s breaths. It was all so beautiful you wanted to cry, your eyes dampened as you soaked in the sight with a slack jaw. The magic of a sunset was so foreign it hadn’t even registered until you’d been made to look around instead of troubling yourself with the bounty hunter’s backstory.

How could something be so impossibly mesmerizing?

“Yeah…” you manage to answer, at a loss for words, yet still conscious of the question and your friend’s proven lack of patience. “Yeah, that’s it.”

He plops you down unceremonially without even asking you if your legs were back in order before grabbing your arm and dragging you along. You waddle after him like a duckling and clutch at his coat when your ankles intertwine and trip you in your stride. A startled noise escapes you, but you successfully manage to keep up with his hasty footing until he’s pulled you directly in front of the vault door, grumbling at your clumsy nature and lack of coordination. A few low curses are hung over your head but you don’t pay them any mind.

“Open it.” he demands and pushes you forward, then unclasps his gun and then another you hadn’t even noticed he had.

Whatever nonchalant demeanor you’d made him settle into was discarded for one so icy and sharp that you failed to understand how he just switched within a blink.

You straighten your dress with a huff, patting out the newly acquired wrinkles and trying to ignore the variety of stains. The Pip-boy is raised up as you maneuver around the plethora of menus.

The ghoul steps closer, stopping once he’s right behind you with a raised weapon and steady eyes glued to the entrance. The lid hisses and you recoil at the scratchy sound until you’re pressing back into him, he wraps an arm around you on instinct, then scowls and rips away as if burnt by a hot rod.

“Watch your step.” he hisses and points the guns at the entrance, treading cautiously, on high alert for any noise that echoes beyond the darkness. Once he’s glued to the vault door he beckons you with his hand and you quickly follow, feet pattering against the metallic floor until you’re closely pressed to his side and peeking from behind him.

It wasn’t scary when he was with you. You strangely didn’t fear the raiders lurking inside anymore, only worrying over the potential harm they might cause him. But he’d proven more than capable, you made yourself believe he’ll be just fine and so would you.

When nothing comes and he’s confident the threat lies further inside, he steps past the entrance.

“Stay behind me.” he makes a face at his statement, then glances back at you. “And don’t get in my way.”

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Chapter 3 >>>

🌼 Daisy Masterlist 🌼

#the ghoul fanfic #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #the ghoul #the ghoul fallout #x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #fallout tv series

550 notes · View notes

not-neverland06 · 21 days

Text

How About a Nuke?

Part I / Part II / Part III

The ghoul x fem!reader A/N: Part three is going to be when it gets juicy, this is just them becoming reacquainted. You’ll get the good angst in the next parts. Summary: Your dreams of stardom and fame have been blown away. Your old life is lost to the sands of this new world and you find yourself utterly confused. There’s a man who looks an awful lot like Cooper yelling at you, but it’s not the man you remember loving. Not anymore.

For two days he’s been following the sound of sirens. With no new bounties, he hasn’t got much else to do with his time. Plus, he’s hoping that maybe if he figures out what’s been causing all this noise he can shut it the fuck up. Didn’t matter how far he walked, the blaring wail was echoing across the whole damn wasteland.

A cough started up in his chest, itching into his throat and rattling his whole body as it ripped its way out of him. He tried to walk through the discomfort but it wouldn’t let him. He leaned over, hands braced on his knees, and coughed so hard he could feel ass jerky coming back up from his “dinner” last night. He clamped a hand over his mouth and forced the bile down. Frantic hands dug through the bag on his side, shaking as he ripped the box open and grabbed his inhaler.

It took a minute before the drugs had the desired effect, and even then he was still fighting back nausea. He’s got to find a new dealer, that bitch in Filly was watering down her supply and he knew it. Not just that, she was overcharging too, on account of his being a ghoul.

Even in the apocalypse money still managed to rule the world. Even if it was in the form of Nuka caps. He walked a little further before leaning against a boulder for a break. He wiped spittle off his lips and surveyed his surroundings.

There was a faded old billboard sunken into the sand, only half of it sticking out. The paper was curled and browned from age and the sun, but he could make it out well enough. Quench Your Thirst, it wasn’t one of hers, though. It was the girl they’d replaced her with. He contemplated shooting it, just so he wouldn’t have to stare at the girl anymore, but it was a waste of bullets.

Instead, he pushed off the rock and forced himself to keep going. The noise was unbearable now, rattling around his brain and making his ears bleed the closer he got. He must be right on it, only a little while longer and he’d finally turn the damn thing off.

He lifted a leathered hand to block the sun out of his eyes. He kept squinting, disbelieving in the sight before him. Vault 111 was sitting pretty among the skeletons and dunes of sand. It’s big white numbers upside down as the door was slid open, alarms ringing out and red flashing lights dancing around within the vault.

He couldn’t believe it. Vault dwellers were practically extinct in the Wastelands, nevermind actually getting into their vaults. But here this one sat, open and ready for the taking. Normally, he wouldn’t risk it, even just to turn off those fucking alarms. But he had just used his last vial and if he didn’t get his hands on some good shit soon, well, best not to imagine it.

Hand on his holster he started forward, eyes darting back and forth to make sure this wasn’t some sort of trap set by raiders. He didn’t imagine they were smart enough to do that, but apparently Muldaver’s been on the move, this could be her people’s doing. He’d rather not have to listen to someone whining on about a better life and a kind society.

He’d believe it when he saw it. All people were capable of was greed and lust, it’s been the same before the bombs and it will be the same after.

He stepped inside, eyes pained as they adjusted to the stark contrast of the glaring sun outside and the soft fluorescent lights within the vault. He spotted a big red button and slammed his palm down on it. The sirens, thank fuck, shut off, but the lights kept going.

There was a gap between his platform and the next. The control panel clearly needed a Pip-Boy to be operated but he didn’t see any nearby. He sighed and took a running leap, just barely making it to the other side.

He took another suspicious look around, still not quite sure he was completely safe. His chest tightened with the irritating feeling of an oncoming coughing fit. “Fuck it,” he muttered, starting through the open doorway without a glance back.

Whatever had happened in here had been messy and recent. He kneeled down next to a puddle of blood and dipped an ungloved finger in, still warm. He popped open his holster and tugged out the gun, better to be safe than dead.

He had been following the direction the lights had been pointing this whole time, hoping maybe he’d stumble across an infirmary. These vault fucks had to have left at least one bag of radaway behind. So far, though, he didn’t have high hopes. Everything was ransacked. The bodies that were left behind had been stripped naked and beaten to unidentifiable pulps.

So far, the vaults had at least been air conditioned. If nothing else he was getting a break from the sweltering heat that trailed him on the surface. He’d already tested out one of the sinks down here, their water was still functioning. Maybe he could get some of the blood caked under his nails cleaned out.

While the air conditioning had been nice, the breeze that was coming from the door across the way would have had goosebumps rising on him if he was still capable of that. His head tilted in contemplation as he stared at it. Above every door was meant to be an indicator of what went on in there.

There wasn’t for this one, though. And despite knowing better, he had to admit, he was pretty curious. He strode forward, tucking the gun back in his holster and slamming the button on the right side of the door. The second it slid open, whatever had been sealing the noise inside broke.

He flinched away from the sounds of sirens and covered his ears, cussing up a storm as he slammed the button once more. It clicked uselessly but didn’t send the door down again. “Fuck,” he hissed, stepping inside and grunting as the cold bore down on him ten times worse than before.

Cryogenics, well, the temperature made sense now.

He stared at each of the pods, the windows frosted over with cold and making it impossible to see the people within. He took his time examining them, trying his best to see if anyone he knew was in one of them. Despite it all, he held a little hope that he might see Janey, maybe even Barb.

Without any luck he headed towards the terminal, he could probably get the sirens to shut the fuck up this way. Or maybe just get this door closed again.

In neon green a warning sign flashed over and over across the screen.

LIFE SUPPORT: CRITICAL FAILURE.

He glanced back over his shoulder and scoffed. Rich fucks hadn’t thought to have a back up, or did they really think their buddy Vault-Tec would keep them safe? He shook his head and clicked away the warning. He peered through the list of commands but couldn’t find anything except a list of who was in the pods.

He figured he might as well see if he spotted a familiar name. If they were alive he might be able to get some information off of them. It wasn’t until the bottom of the list that he saw anything helpful. Your name stood out bright and bold and beside it the message:

LIFE SUPPORT FAILING

RISK OF ASPHYXIATION:

The colon blinked a few times and he drummed his finger impatiently on the sides of the terminal. Finally the risk analysis loaded and he let out a rough exhale.

RISK OF ASPHYXIATION: IMMINENT

REMOVE SUBJECT IMMEDIATELY

His eyes widened and without thinking he clicked the little button. A moment later he heard something creak open, the seal of the pod broken as air rushed out. He turned around and faced your pod, of course it was the one right beside him.

He ran forward, catching you just as you slumped out of the seat. Your skin was like ice, your lips blue and face purple from choking. It was all swollen, like you’d been struggling to get air in for a while before he came. He frowned down at your limp form, shaking you slightly as he waited for you to take in a breath.

“Hey,” he brought a rough hand down on your cheek, the leather striking loudly against your skin.

Your lips parted and you took in a deep breath, gasping as your hands flew up to your throat. You turned over, falling out of his arms and landing roughly on the metal grates of the floor. He took a step back, watching as you hacked yourself back to life, your lungs nearly coming out with how hard you were coughing.

His head tilted as he observed you. You looked damn near the same as the last time he saw you. The only real difference being the slutty little black slip you had on. He scoffed and shook his head. So that’s where you’d disappeared to, sold yourself out to Vault-Tec for some apocalyptic protection.

Lot of good that did you.

You clawed at your throat, air feeling like razor blades as you greedily inhaled. You’re not sure where you are, you can barely feel your extremities, you’ve got an uncomfortable draft on your backside. You wince as you sit up, wiping your blurry eyes in the hopes they’ll clear up, metal digs into your skin as you do.

It’s like when you get too cold during winter and your eyes frost over a little bit. Except, this doesn’t feel like a little bit. You can’t even see your own hand right now. All you can make out is faint outlines of everything, blurry little clouds of color.

“Hello?” Someone was here, you could tell that much. You just didn’t know who. Metal creaked in front of you and you scrambled back. They weren’t saying anything. Why weren’t they saying anything?

You wracked your brain for the last thing you could remember and felt tears building along your lashes. Oh god. “Tom?” You called out hesitantly. Maybe they’d changed their minds. Maybe the men who’d grabbed you had dumped you off somewhere.

You didn’t want to think about what they’d done while you were asleep. You were slowly becoming more aware of your surroundings and very aware of the skimpy slip you had on right now. Not even close to what you’d been wearing when they grabbed you. You wrapped your arms around yourself in a meager attempt at comfort.

“That who you fucked, sweetheart?”

Your brows turned down. “Cooper?” He sounded a little rough, his accent more pronounced, but you’d know his voice anywhere. It was as familiar to you as your own. “Cooper, where am I?” The tears were spilling freely now the longer he stared at you in silence. At least crying was starting to thaw out your eyes.

You could more clearly make out his form now, looming overtop of you like some sort of dark omen. You always felt safe with Coop. When someone pushed you too much or got a little too aggressive, you could go to him.

Right now, though, you felt like prey in front of a wolf. There was no kindness in his words and only a cruel accusation in his tone. Dear god, where were you? And why would he think you would ever fool around with any of these sick fucks behind his back?

“Cooper, please, what happened?”

He barked out a laugh and you flinched back, “What happened? Well, lets see what the fuck happened.” You heard more than saw him pace across the metal floors, the spurs on his boots clanking loudly. Had he been at a party and come looking for you?

“You told me you’d be back for lunch and I didn’t see you for another two hundred years.”

Your stomach dropped to the floor, “What?” You whispered.

He knelt down in front of you. “Your eyes still foggy?” You nodded your head mutely. “Well,” he chuckled but it wasn’t the one you knew. This was something mean and sharp. “When those clear up, I’m not gonna look like you remember me, darling. Should probably get out of here before you realize what you’re talking to.”

He made to get up but you shot forward, blindly groping at the dark form of his torso until you latched onto his duster. “Cooper, please, I’m confused. I-” you looked around blindly, hoping to find something to explain how the last thing you remembered was eating pancakes with him. There’s no way in hell it’s been two hundred years.

“I went to Tom’s to get the script. He made me come in for drinks. There- there were all these men there, they grabbed me and I don’t remember anything after that. Cooper, please, I wasn’t wearing this when they snatched me. What the hell happened to me?”

There was a moment of silence before he let out a sigh. “You didn’t leave to find some safety in Vault-Tec?”

You frowned and let him go, shoving him away from you with as much force as your frozen muscles could muster up. “Fuck you, you think I’d do that to you? How little do you think of me?”

You reached out for the pod beside you, using it to get to your feet. You felt about as graceful as a newborn foal right now, all gangly limbs and stilted movements. You leaned over, catching your breath as you tried to walk forward.

“If I were you, I’d get back in that pod and let the world rot away. You’re not gonna do well on your own out here, honey.”

You heard his spurs moving past you and then made out his form as he walked through the doors of the room. “Cooper?” You called out, but you knew it was pointless. He was gone. The man you knew was gone and you had no clue what the fuck had happened.

He managed to finally find the infirmary, lucky enough that a few bags of Rad-Away had been left behind. They’d only had IV bags, so he’d spent a while trying to find a spot where his skin wasn’t so tough a needle could actually get through.

She had to be lying.

He felt himself trying to look at the door, like she’d step through, and forced his head down. He flicked at the IV bag, hoping that maybe it would speed it the fuck up. He needed to get out of here. The longer he stayed, the more he wanted to talk to her.

He’d changed a lot since they’d last seen each other. Whatever he had once felt for her was gone. The man he had once been was dead. There was no point in hurting the girl by giving her false hope. He sighed and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes and trying to relax some.

He’d finish this bag, pack the others, and then he’d leave this vault behind. She could figure out what she wanted to do on her own. He didn’t have time for strays or old flames.

You stumbled around for a while before you finally got your bearings. You managed to make your way into what looked like an office and sat behind a curved desk. A terminal on top sat blinking bright green letters at you. You went through each of the logs, your dread only getting worse the longer you read.

Tom wasn’t in this vault, that’s for sure. The other names you only recognized from the credits of some movies you’d watched a while back. The men who had taken you from Tom’s house.

According to the scientist using this terminal, they’d wanted to ensure they had some fun before they went underground.

You weren’t the only one Tom had sold out. Your entire cryogenic chamber had been filled with other women, each of them dead because of a life support failure. You were meant to be their entertainment while they waited for the world to be ready for the taking.

You took a break, forcing your eyes away from the screen and staring down at your hands.

Well, Cooper hadn’t been lying at least. Two hundred years you’d been frozen, you hadn’t even known it. It was bizarre, what felt like only a few hours ago was over two millennia. You’d only just kissed Cooper goodbye and now he was acting like some asshole who wouldn’t even stay to help you to your feet.

Feeling yourself getting angry and panicked you went back to reading. There was nothing you could do. You’d been screwed over by someone you trusted, you were stuck here. No point in pouting about it.

The scientist wrote more about the men’s intentions and you forced the bile down as you read. Then he got to what Vault-Tec’s real intentions were. Something about experimenting with cryogenics, seeing how long a body could last, what all it could preserve. You didn’t understand most of it, the language far above your education.

The men were just guinea pigs, same as you. It brought you a modicum of satisfaction. Barely, though.

The lead of the whole project gets more cryptic and paranoid the further he writes. Something about Vault-Tec never sending the all clear signal to get the fuck out of here. Security was getting antsy the longer they stayed and supplies were running low.

It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together when you looked at the blood splattered walls and the white coated corpse across the room.

Underneath the last entry was a fail safe. In case the experiment was going wrong and there were no other options but to abandon it.

TERMINATE?

The green pointer blinked as you stared at the question. Your mind traveled to the way they’d swarmed you. How ruthlessly they’d taken you like you were nothing more than cattle. The other women they did it to. You could only imagine what had happened while you’d been knocked out.

That familiar feeling of anger, disgust, and shame welled up in you. You had always been typecast. The sexy bombshell with nothing else going for her. It bled into other aspects of your life, people treating you like you were nothing more than a walking doll, for their enjoyment and nothing else.

You’d be damned if you let these men survive what the other women couldn’t.

You hit the button and listened as the sirens quieted down the hall, the hiss of oxygen as the pods killed their inhabitants. You didn’t allow yourself to linger on what you’d just done for very long, you went clicking through the rest of the terminal.

Most of it was password locked, you only gleamed enough information to figure out what had been going on while you slept. Bombs dropped, the world went to shit, just like you always thought it would. You’d never considered that you might survive it.

Maybe those men had done you a slight favor, just barely.

He sighed as he ripped the needle out of his arm, pulling his sleeve down he moved away from the wall he’d been leaning on. He’d definitely been getting cheated out of his caps. Next time he saw that bitch Ma June, he’d show her what he thought about her watered down bullshit.

A shadow passed by the doorway and his hand drifted down to his holster. He slipped out of the room and took a peek around the corner. She had her back to him, but he’d recognize her anywhere, even with that ridiculous vault suit on.

“Hey!”

She jumped and whirled around on him. For a moment he forgot that this was a completely new reality for her. She didn’t know what a ghoul was, she’d never seen one before. Her last memory of him had been his prime. When he’d had a fucking nose.

Her eyes widened and his grew cold while he waited for the inevitable disgust. He was used to it by now, but he was pretty sick and tired of hearing about it. Especially when the few people who managed to get their hands on his old movies would recognize him.

The disgust never came, just obvious shock and disbelief. She took a few hesitant steps closer, her eyes darting across his face while she did. He nearly missed her hand coming up, like she wanted to touch him. He caught it at the last second, bringing his hand up to swat hers down.

She winced and backed up a step, the wonder on her face gone and replaced with hurt. “Cooper-”

He darted forward and snatched her chin in between his gloved fingers. “Now, darling, I’m gonna need you to get this through your fucking head,” he hissed, eyes boring into her terrified ones. “That’s not my name anymore, I’m nothing but a ghoul. I’m not the man you know and I’m never going to be. Let it go and if you know what’s good for you, move the fuck on.”

He could see the tears welling up in her eyes and grinned, she had always been pretty when she cried. “Understand?” When she didn’t respond fast enough for his liking he shook her roughly, “Speak!”

“Yes,” she shouted, clawing at his arm and wincing when her nails scraped across the leather of his skin. “I understand.” He took a moment, looking into her eyes, before he nodded and released her.

She stumbled back, choking on a sob and glaring up at him. “So, what? Am I just supposed to call you an asshole?” He scoffed, barely laughing. Everything that happened to her today and she could still get a fucking attitude. It was nearly impressive, if not stupid. She didn’t watch who she spoke to and she was going to get killed before the day was up.

“You’re not gonna call me anything. We’re not working together, you’re on your own.”

She glared at him and rubbed her jaw where he’d grabbed her. Her cheeks were already changing colors, bruises blooming where he’d snatched her. His eyes darted away from her hands and back to her. “Why’d you stop me then?”

He looked her up and down and grinned at the way she shivered, seemed he hadn’t lost all his charm just yet. “That tight little suit of yours is gonna get you killed. People up there don’t take too kindly to people from down here.”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, glaring at him. “So, what? I’d be safer walking around in what they had me in?”

He shook his head and started walking back towards the door of the vault. “No.”

He heard her huff and race after him. “You’re fucking infuriating, you know that? What the hell am I supposed to do, Co-” He shot her a warning glare but she’d clamped her mouth shut before she could finish the sentence. She still had that stupid hurt look on her face, like he’d kicked her puppy. It kind of made him want to just shoot her.

“I don’t have any supplies, all I have is this stupid suit. Please, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

He sighed and stopped. She stumbled forward, nearly ramming into his back in the process. “Go to Filly, I’m sure you’ll find something there.”

“I’m supposed to just know where that is?”

He didn’t bother responding to her, there was no point in it. She would be dead soon, anyway. This world wasn’t made for pretty girls like her, especially not on her own. If she was smart she’d just starve herself down here, at least she’d have running water.

You watched him walk off and felt like your chest was going to cave in. You couldn’t handle this, he was just Cooper an hour ago. Making you breakfast and kissing you goodbye. And despite the odd deformities, you could still see him. Sure, he was missing a nose, but he was still there. Your Cooper.

Except he wasn’t.

You couldn’t quite believe he would be so cruel earlier. He was always mean when he was hurt. You figured maybe he was still sitting with the fact that you hadn’t actually left him behind for Vault-Tec. But his eyes gave him away.

They were cold, devoid of anything you used to know. The man you had known was no longer there. And if he was, he was buried far deeper than you were interested in digging. You watched him walk away and felt your chest squeezing painfully.

This was not the fucking time to start panicking. If the carnage around you was anything to go by, then the surface had to be so much fucking worse. Cooper seemed to think vaults were safer, but right now you were staring into the gouged eyes of a corpse who’d been killed by a friend. Clearly, nowhere was safe.

You couldn’t afford to pity yourself or cry. You’d have to keep moving, process it all later. You pushed off the wall and leapt over the corpses blocking your path. Cooper must’ve stepped in a pile of blood because you could clearly make out his footprints. He seemed like he was going to leave, you bet if you followed him you would find the way out.

You followed the prints up a set of stairs, but they had faded out completely by the time you got up to the vault door. You winced, blocking your eyes from the bright glare of the sun. Barely a second out of the vault and you felt like your skin might already be peeling.

Whatever had happened while you were out, this was not the world you remembered. The sun seemed bigger, brighter, more violent. If the skeletons littered throughout the sand were anything to go by, everything was more violent now.

You tripped over a particularly deformed skull of a beast and scrambled up to your feet. You glanced around, spotting a figure in the distance and ran after it. You hoped it was Cooper you were following, but he was already so far ahead of you that he was barely a dot on the horizon.

You followed the footsteps he left in the sand and prayed he didn’t notice you trailing him. You couldn’t very well stay down there with all of those corpses. There had been no supplies to protect yourself with except a bloodied scalpel. You wouldn’t make it down there on your own and you certainly wouldn’t make it up here.

You planned to just follow Cooper until you found something resembling civilization. He didn’t want you around him and you got the message, you’re not exactly eager to share his company. He’s a stranger, the only part of him you recognize is his name, and you’re not even allowed to use that.

You kept your distance as long as you could. Keeping him as far away as possible so if he turned around he wouldn’t be able to realize he was being followed. But you’re already struggling. He’s not showing any signs of slowing anytime soon and you can barely see anymore.

Your lips are peeling, throat raw and aching for water. Your eyes are completely coated in sand and being damaged by the sun. You wished you had been better prepared for this but it’s been at least four hours and you’re about to keel over.

You wheeze, dragging yourself over to a fallen billboard and slumping against it. You’re not paying enough attention to your surroundings, or you just don’t care anymore. You find yourself drifting off and you don’t stop it. You’d prefer if the heat stroke took you while you were asleep, at least then you wouldn’t be aware of it.

Your eyes drift closed and your head slumps forward, the sun bearing down on your neck and burning away at the skin there.

You cough and splutter, frantically brushing sand off your face and spitting it out of your mouth. Cooper’s standing over you, frowning and glaring, which seems to be his go to expression now. You glance down at his outstretched foot and realize he kicked the sand in your face. “What the fuck?”

“You know,” he tilts his head and rests a hand on his holster, grinning at the way you shrink away from his gun. “I thought you would have lasted at least another hour.”

You wipe your face off and struggle back onto your feet, nearly teetering over as you did. “You knew I was following you?” You groused, glaring up at him. You’re not sure your anger translates well, though. You can barely hear your own voice, your throat too dry to produce any proper words.

“‘Course I did, sweetheart. I’d be a pretty shit bounty hunter if I didn’t recognize when someone was trailing me.”

You finally manage to get to your feet and glare at him. “Congratulations, you want a prize?”

His smile drops and he darts forward before you can move away. His hand clamps around your arm and he drags you behind him. You’re stumbling, barely able to keep in stride with him. Mercifully, you notice the sky is starting to turn pink in the distance. Soon, the sun will be down and you’ll get a moment's reprieve.

“Where are you taking me?” You demand, tripping over a rock and wincing as he jerks you back to your feet. He turns around to glare at you like he isn’t the one dragging you around.

“Filly,” he grunts. He finally comes to a stop, you ram into his back wincing as your nose slams into him painfully. He doesn’t even flinch and you wonder if he felt it. If he can feel anything with how crisped his skin is.

“I thought you weren’t going to help me.” Maybe you shouldn’t be pushing your luck. If he is helping you, and that’s a pretty hesitant if, you’re sure he’ll be quick to change his mind. Still, you can’t help but push him. You’ve always had that problem, except before he took it in stride and teased you right back.

Now, your eyes dart down to his gun, you’re not sure he wouldn’t just put a new hole in you.

“Changed my mind.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes, “Yeah, I’m aware. I’m asking why,” you cut yourself off sharply, mouth clamping shut because you almost called him Coop again. Your jaw is still aching from the last “warning” he gave you. You’re not looking for another.

He whirled around on you and you didn’t even realize his gun was in his hand until it was digging into your throat. “Why don’t you stop asking me so many fucking questions, hm.” He sneered and you winced at the sight of his yellowed teeth. Finally you nodded and backed away from him, he kept his eyes on yours for a moment before he holstered his gun again. “Let’s go,” he started walking and you couldn’t do anything but follow him.

At least this time you weren’t trying to track a dot in the distance.

The sky was getting dark quick and the temperature was dropping even faster. You hunched into yourself and ran your hands up and down your arms to try and keep warm. It seemed everything was done in the extremes now, even the damn weather.

Cooper whistled and you hurried to catch up with him. He stood in front of a decaying old house, nearly all of the roof gone. The walls looked like they might cave in soon and it had clearly been unoccupied for a very long time. He opened up the door and walked inside, letting it slam back into your face.

You caught it and huffed. You followed after him and saw that he was already setting up his spot for the night. He leaned against the half-rotted couch, his hat over his eyes and his arms tucked under his coat. You glanced around for a clean spot to curl up and laid down on the ground. You winced at all the dirt on the floor but figured it was better than sleeping out in the sand.

Despite your oh-so comfortable sleeping arrangement, you found it hard to pass out. Maybe it’s because you’d just taken a two hundred year nap or the man across from you. Your eyes refused to stay shut and you couldn’t stop staring at him.

You told yourself you would process your emotions later but apparently your mind had decided now would be the best time. You could feel the tears trickling down your cheeks again and you tried to wipe them away.

Too much had happened for them to be so easily dismissed. You were struggling with the thoughts of what those men did to you. You’re certain your imagination is worse than anything that happened, but not knowing was killing you. You felt violated, just being knocked out like that and being left vulnerable to them.

And Cooper.

Cooper was practically dead as far as you both were concerned. You felt like you were grieving for someone who was lying right across from you. You were staring right at him and he was just out of your reach.

You sniffled and wiped your nose. A loud sigh came from the man in front of you and he spoke without bothering to tilt his hat back up. “I’m gonna take you to Filly and you’re gonna help me with some business there and then we’ll go our separate ways.”

“What?” Your voice was an embarrassing croak and you winced.

“They don’t take too kindly to my folk down there-”

“You mean zombies,” you interrupted, propping your head up on your hand.

He finally lifted his hat up and glared, though it was half-hearted at best. “It’s ‘ghouls,’ sweetheart. Never knew you to be racist.” You rolled your eyes and he dropped his hat back down again. “You’ll get me what I need and I’ll have delivered you to, well, not safety, but as close as you can get out here.” He leaned forward, arm outstretched and grinning at you. “Deal?”

Well, it wasn't like you had any other options. You leaned forward, grasping his gloved hand in yours and shaking, “Deal.”

SERIES TAGLIST: @pixelatedprofilepic @o0mellowdramatic0o @bisasterbisexual @julianmarie @v3n1x @weakling-grace

#the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x reader #The ghoul #fallout x reader #cooper howard #fallout tv series

413 notes · View notes

malt-rants-and-stuff · 2 years

Text

I love coming onto Tumblr and seeing people with users like girlskin and grilledicks and I will never learn how they are meant to be read but that's okay, because I can take comfort in knowing their posts will be too insane for me to care.

like sure, babyellingravy sounds like a name I would see carved into the wall of a psych hospital's bathroom, but their posts on the mentlities of the celestial beings in the hentai they read last night brings just as little comfort as my mental battle on what way their name is supposed to be read.

#midnight malt stuff #but its 9:51 #malt posts #text post #words words words #what the fuck was this post #dug this out of the vault

0 notes

spatialwave · 15 days

Text

“𝓼𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓪 𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓼𝓮, 𝓻𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓪 𝓬𝓸𝔀𝓫𝓸𝔂”

pairing: pre-war cooper howard x fem!reader word count: 938 summary: you’re cooper’s favourite cowgirl. warnings: mdni! smut, porn w plot, affair/cheating, riding, cooper loves the view ;) notes: two posts within 12 hours?? i am addicted 🫣

you’d met cooper on a film set working as a seamstress, your skilled hands sewing and tailoring the clothing he wore on the big screen. the two of you grew close as the weeks and months passed by, especially when his career took a turn for the worst when he started filming advertisements for vault-tec. it was unfortunate to watch him as his energy depleted, each day looking worse for wear as his passion vanished.

gossip spread like wildfire, and you’d learned from a few girls in the makeup pertinent about his life at home and how he and his wife were going through a tough spot—a divorce. you couldn’t imagine the heartbreak.

you were careful to bring up barb in conversation, the pain in his eyes taking forefront anytime her name was mentioned, but acting like it was no issue.

you were there for him as much as you could be, taking him for a hot cup of coffee once in a while in an attempt to bring some cheer into his life. to be a friend of cooper howard was a title you held near and dear to your heart, you hadn’t expected for it to get any farther than it did.

it all started one night when you two met for drinks—gin, whiskey, martinis and everything in between. it only took three drinks for cooper to spill his guts about barb. how she wasn’t who he thought she was, and that it was destroying their family.

he didn’t go into the gritty details, but you believed him and you were there for him. what was only a polite, reassuring touch on his shoulder had ignited a flame in both of you, eyes connecting when you shared the same thought.

an hour later you found yourself on your bed, with cooper’s tongue pressed against your wet arousal and your fingers tugging on his dark, greying hair. it became a regular occurrence, but you kept telling yourself that this was okay. it was okay because he was going through a divorce.

even if they were technically still married… even if he was still living at home with barb and his daughter, still wearing his wedding ring. this was okay.

right?

“oh my god—“ you cried out, your legs spread open as your lover fucked you with his face buried into your neck. he peppered you with hundreds of kisses, biting and leaving the faintest of marks along your soft skin, “don’t stop, coop, fuck me,” you whined into his ear, your eyes closed while your fingernails scratched down his back.

he moaned against your skin as his cock stretched you with each forward snap of his hips. he was tired, sweat beading on his forehead—he didn’t have the endurance like he used to, but he had an easy fix.

cooper pushed himself back until he was settled on his knees, pulling out of you as his thick cock sprung up and gave you quite the view. you let out a whiny, pitiful sound at the emptiness as you clenched around nothing like a needy young thing. the older man could stay like this forever, happily watching his lover begging and pleading to be fucked by him until you were filled up with his cum—a sight for sore eyes.

just before you could protest his actions and ask him to keep fucking you dumb, he wrapped an arm under your waist and moved to rest on his back with you straddling him. your knees dug into the plush comforter, palms flattening onto cooper’s bare chest.

your voice cracked as you shuddered out a moan, the overbearing fullness of his cock pushing deep inside your slick cunt. his calloused hands were tight on your hips as he guided your movements, wanting to see you fuck yourself on him.

“look at me,” cooper drawled, that disgustingly beautiful smirk on his lips, “what a pretty cowgirl. you look so good ridin’ me like that,” he murmured, thumb now circling over your clit as you started grinding your hips against his to get the friction you craved.

obediently, you forced your eyes open to look into cooper’s hazel orbs and lifted your hands away from his chest to settle on weight on his hips. you gave him the perfect view, able to watch as you rolled your hips forward and seeing how your perky tits bounced. his eyes glazed over as his mouth opened, a heady moan falling from his lips as you rode him with the practiced movements you’d learned from the handfuls of nights shared together.

“am i your favourite cowgirl?” you asked, pouting your lips and moaning while his thumb rubbed slow, calculated movements along your clit. you both had slowed your movements, taking in the raw intimacy and pleasure you shared. savouring every last bit of it because neither of you ever wanted it to end.

“don’t be coy with me, baby,” he answered quietly, reaching his free hand to touch your breast, giving a firm squeeze, then rolling your nipple between his fingers, “you know the answer.”

mewling, you closed your eyes tight when he pinched your puffy, hard nipple and a sharp pain shot through your nerves before settling into a sick, twisted feeling of pleasure.

“keep, ridin’,” he whispered, voice raspy, “c’mon, doll, i know you want to cum on my cock.”

you nodded pitifully, trying your best to will your thighs to keep bouncing on him, even as you ached.

cooper watched you with a lazy grin, keeping his thumb right where you needed it until you came with a loud cry—loving every goddamn second.

#cooper howard #the ghoul #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #walton goggins #fallout fic #fallout prime fic #cooper howard fic #the ghoul fic #wordsbyspatial

379 notes · View notes

lacontroller1991 · 29 days

Text

Rumors (Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x F!Reader)

Main Master List || Misc Master List

Summary: After you believed he was dead, it comes as a shock to you that he's alive and wrecking havoc.

Warnings: 18+, HEAVY LANGUAGE, drug usage, drinking, mention of cannibalism, violence, gun slinging, blood, nudity, fighting

Author's Note: I swear I'll work on my other requests but the Cooper Howard brain rot is REAL and its STRONG, anywho, first time so let me know how you guys like it :)

Word Count: 3k

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

In the wastelands of California, rumors get you killed and you’ve heard rumors. Whispers of his return. It’s been a while since you’ve seen him. Since he left you on your own in the middle of a gun fight to collect his bounty; and it nearly cost you your life.

The last you’ve heard about him was that he was 6 feet deep and locked in a coffin with no way of escaping, unless someone purposely dug him out. Yet, you can’t think of a single person who would. Still, rumors spread like wildfire, and you’d be damned if you don’t try and get revenge.

-----------

The California sun beats down on your back. The heat weighs you down, but not as much as the pain in your chest. He let you believe that he cared about you. He really fooled you into a sense of partnership, romance, but you really should’ve known. Cooper Howard is a lone wolf, nothing and nobody will stand in his way.

The site of Filly in the distance is a welcoming sight. If anyone has seen anything, it would have been here. It doesn’t take you long to cross the remaining distance, sweat dripping down your back as you enter the market.

“Haven’t seen ya in a while (Y/N).” A local merchant snides with a creepy smile, showcasing his rotten teeth. Walking over to your side, he runs a hand down your arm and you resist the urge to gag. “What are ye in town for?”

“Information.” You eye the stairs that are being fixed, along with other wooden structures, a signature sign that he’s been here.

“Looking for your Ghoul, huh?” His face is offly close to yours and it’s enough for you to draw your gun, casually pressing it into his side, causing him to instantly back off. “He was here two days ago. Got in a firefight with a knight, seemed like he was after a bounty.” You scoff. Of course he is. Anything for those damn vials. Vials. At the thought of vials a malicious smile forms on your face. Sooner or later, he will need to get more, and you’ll be there when he does.

Holstering your gun, you flip him a bottle cap in appreciation before stalking off, heading to the one place you know he will be.

By the time the sun sets, you’re settled in an abandoned building, low enough to the ground where you can see what’s coming, but high enough to be out of any immediate danger. Wrapping your arms around yourself tighter, you can’t help but to think about the times where you and him would be shoulder to shoulder, barely touching, but enough to make butterflies fly in your stomach.

Despite his ghoulish appearance, you find him to be quite handsome. His rugged cowboy exterior does barely enough to hide the last shred of humanity he has, and at times, it was directed towards you. With a sigh, you let your eyes shut, sleep easily consuming over you.

-----------

“Please, let me go.” A feminine voice stirs you from your unconsciousness as your eyes blink against the harsh light of the sun. “Please, sir, I’m begging you.” Shuffling slightly, you peer your head past the concrete wall, spotting two figures, one in a blue/yellow vault-tec suit and the other in a cowboy hat with a lasso around the girl.

“Well I’d be damned,” it’s hushed and to yourself, afraid of him hearing you and spotting you.

“I done told you vaultie, ain’t gonna happen. You deaf or sum?” His drawl sends chills down your spine as he nudges her forward with the tip of his gun. “Now hur-” his words are cut off by a coughing fit but his grip on the lasso remains. After regaining his breath, he wipes his mouth on the back of his sleeve. “Hurry up. I ain’t got all day.” You watch in silence as the pair walks past your hideout, unaware of your existence. Grabbing your things, you rush off after them, making sure to stay in the shadows as your brain goes through different scenarios of what could happen. Would you and Cooper make up? Would he try to kill you? Would you try to kill him? Does he even care? The closer they get to the supermart, the more you hang back, hand slightly hovering over your gun.

Trying to listen to the conversation, you strain your ears but to no avail. Peeking over an abandoned car, you focus your eyes on the situation ahead of you, watching as he gestures for the girl to go through the sliding glass door. The minute they shut, he collapses on the ground and you resist the urge to go and help him. Sighing, you open the bag at your side, rummaging through a variety of equipment before your fingers run over the cool glass of the vials that keep him sane. “That’s just ironic,” you chuckle, looking back to him still laying on the ground, a slight tang of pity radiating through your chest. If there’s anything you hate about yourself, it’s that. You’re too soft for people who have no problem leaving you out to dry.

You could confront him now, kick him while he’s down, but being dramatic is more fun. It’s useless trying to talk to him when he’s in that sorry state.

An hour later and you’re still outside, covering from the sun and waiting for the right moment to make your appearance. The sight of the vaultie walking alone gathers your attention as you keep out of sight? Now how the hell did she manage to escape? You’re not an idiot, everyone and their mamas know that the SuperDuper Mart takes in bodies and harvests the organs, selling them to the highest bidder. So how on this God forsaken planet did she escape practically unscathed? As she walks further away you ponder the possibility that maybe you and everyone on the surface has really underestimated the ones who live below.

Once she is out of sight, you rush out from your hiding spot and toward the mart, hoping to find him. “Well, he isn’t where I saw him last,” you huff out, drawing your gun from its holster as you walk through the glass door, keeping your eyes vigilant. With the mart being practically empty aside from overturned themed rides, it’s easy to hear a person stumbling around, knocking stuff over.

By the time you spot him, his back is to you, head tipped slightly back as he downs a bottle of alcohol he found. The sound of you cocking your gun causes him to freeze in place, and if you were facing him, you would spot the smile on his face.

“You ain’t gonna shoot me now, are ya?” Your silence is deafening and you don’t move an inch, not really sure if you would actually shoot him or not. “Was wonderin’ when you were gonna find me.”

“It’s pretty easy to find a drug addicted ghoul these days, especially ones that have a penchant for the dramatics.” You keep your gun trained on his back as he slowly turns around, dropping the glass bottle and letting it shatter to the floor.

“Me? Dramatic? I don’t think I’m the dramatic one sweetheart. You’re the one who came in here, guns blazing. I think you’re the dramatic one.” He takes a step forward, and another, and another, until his chest is pressed right against the nozzle of your gun. “Now why don’t you put your gun down and give Coop a big ki-” your gun whacks across his face, tearing the flesh slightly only for it to heal right away, causing him to growl. His gloved hand reaches up and wraps around your throat, hoisting you against the wall while you struggle in his grasp. “That’s no way to greet me. Where are your manners?” He asks, his southern accent penetrating each word.

“Fucker,” raising a leg, you kick between his with all you can muster and spit on his face, the shock being enough to let you loose and allowing you to slip out.

He looks at you for a second before laughing sadistically, using his thumb to collect your spit and put it in his mouth, closing his eyes as if he was savoring it. “I missed you kitten.”

Scoffing, you holster your gun and take a seat on the couch, turning your attention to the tv where you spot a young, handsome, human Cooper Howard on the screen. “Really Coop? You’re that full of yourself?”

Shrugging his shoulders, he plops down next to you before taking another bottle and giving that a swig. “Was the only half decent shit in this hell hole,” at the mention of the place, you take a proper look around, bodies laying everywhere, some human, some ghoul, and even a robot.

“The fuck happened here?”

“Was traveling with a vault dweller, traded her for some vials but I guess she didn’t take too well to the idea of her organs being sold,” he comments nonchalantly, twisting off the cap of a vial and draining the liquid into his mouth while you look at him like he grew two heads.

“You’re meaning to tell me that that vault dweller managed to do all this?”

“Did I stutter?” Now you know you really underestimated the people in the vaults. You honestly wonder if they’re all like this or is she just some random four leaf clover. “Why’d you come in here raisin hell anyway?”

Leaning back on the couch, you look forward to the tv, trying to concentrate on the handsome man on the screen instead of the one sitting next to you, “heard you were dead.”

“The details of my death have been greatly exaggerated. Still doesn’t answer my question,” he looks at you with a look that says ‘I frankly don’t give a shit’ but something deep down inside of you tells you that he does.

“I’m pissed as hell that you left me. I thought we were partners?” Rolling his eyes, he laps at a random white powder laying on the table before leaning back.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist. Didn’t see a need to stick around. You got what you wanted and I got what I wanted. Seemed like a fair trade.”

A sigh escapes your mouth as you take the bottle from his one hand and downed it, scrunching your nose as the alcohol burns down your throat and lights a fire in your stomach. How can he be so naive? You had initially joined him when you were both after the same group of people, but for vastly different reasons. He had wanted the large bounty on the head of the leader and you wanted to find your past lover, but somewhere along the route to finding them you developed feelings for the Ghoul sitting next to you, and you thought he developed them too. You initially didn’t spot him when the shooting started, too occupied with the Ghoul pressing his back against yours, the two of you working in tandem. Everything happened so fast and before you knew it, you were the only one shooting back at the group of people, most of them lying dead and your companion nowhere to be seen. The bounty was also gone.

He had left you on your own and it hurt. It also didn’t help that once the shooting was over and you remained, you found your former lover in the arms of another. It’s true that you found who you wanted, but at what cost? Was it really your lover than you wanted or was it Cooper Howard, the Ghoul, who you wanted?

Realistically, you know the answer. It’s pretty obvious by the way that when you heard he was alive, you practically dropped everything in pursuit of him. Taking another swig of the alcohol you ponder over your next course of actions. Should you admit your feelings for him or should you leave it? Looking back at the tv, you watch the former Cooper Howard get down from his horse, gun in hand and hat tipped ever so slightly over his eyes, much like how the man next to you does. He’s never going to be the same man again, you know that, but maybe he still has the ability to love? “I love you, you know?”

Cooper looks over to you with a puzzled look on his face before it goes blank and your heart sinks. If there was any sort of superpower you could have right now, it would 100% be mind reading. “You’re stupid.”

“Right. Yep. Totally.” You’re pissed. You took a gamble and lost. Laid your heart on the line only for it to be destroyed. Swallowing down your pride, you get up from your seat and holster your gun, taking a couple of vials for safe keeping. “Have a good life Coop.” You don’t bother turning back, tears welling in your eyes. How could you have been so stupid? Of course he doesn’t return the feeling. You kick the dead body out of your way, too overwhelmed with your emotions to realize that he is calling your name. A hand wrapping around your wrist stirs you from your thoughts as he hand spins you around to face him, a soft look gracing his features.

“I ain’t finished,” it’s soft. Softer than anything you’ve ever heard from him but you yank your hand away, rebuilding the walls around your heart.

“I don’t wanna he-” he cuts you off with a rough kiss against your lips, his arms wrapping around your body and holding you close as his scarred lips move against yours. The kiss is rough, demanding, but also loving, intimate. It’s enough to make you dizzy. Pulling away, he keeps you in his grasp as you look up at him through blown eyes, trying to figure out what he’s playing at. “Coop?”

“Shh darlin’. You didn’t let me finish. I said you’re stupid. Stupid for loving someone like me. I’m no good for anyone, especially you, you should know this.” You can tell by the restraint in his voice that he fully means what he’s telling you. Smiling softly, you dust off his duster and pull on his vest, straightening out his clothes as he watches you, not really sure what to make of your intentions.

“Y’know, there was this one cowboy I met years ago and when I asked how he survived as long as he has and you know what he told me?”

“What’s that?”

“We take it as it comes.” He closes the bridge between the two of you with his mouth against yours, this time it’s more eager. Taking in your bottom lip, he bites hard enough to draw blood, causing you to gasp in surprise. Using that to his advantage, his tongue slips in, exploring every crevice of the mouth that he’s longed for.

“Well ain’t this sweet. We have a ghoul and a ghoulfucker. I wonder what that sex looks like,” you and Cooper pull away abruptly, you eye the three men in sheriff uniforms while Cooper scowls, annoyed by their presence. Moving towards them, Cooper raises his hands in false surrender while you get behind his back, one hand reaching for his shotgun and the other reaching for your own gun, ready to draw at any moment.

“What can I do for you folks?” The three men eye each other before pointing their guns at Cooper, you still standing behind him, ready to take on each of them.

“Destroying a legitimate business? That’s illegal around these parts,” one speaks up, aviators covering his eyes as he moves around to get a better view of you. “My my, don’t tell me this pretty little thing did all this damage. Why don’t you raise your hands sweetheart, let’s see that gorgeous figure.”

If looks could kill, that man would be 12 feet under and blasted to high heaven with the biggest nuke Cooper could find. “I’d be careful if I were you, she may be pretty, but she's also a pint sized atom bomb.” His head tilts, telling you all that you needed to know. Reaching for your gun, you quickly shoot the two companions as Cooper lunges for the man who dared to flirt with you. Kicking the gun away from reach, Cooper wraps his hand around the throat of the sheriff and hoists him in the air while you loot their supplies. Turning the men around, you cut their pants off, leaving their backside exposed for Cooper to take his fair share of ass jerky. The man in his grasp squirms at the site of his counterparts being exposed, but Cooper’s grip doesn’t falter.

“Why are you sick freaks doing this?” The man continues to struggle in Cooper’s grasp, hands trying to claw away at skin but to no avail as you load your gun, sliding over to the duo.

“Wanna do the honors sweetheart?” It’s rare that Cooper offers anybody anything, let alone a kill and it takes you a minute to process his proposal.

“We do this for the love of the game.” A gunshot rings out while the man goes limp in Cooper’s hand, brains splattered on the floor below you. Dropping the man, Cooper’s eyes flit to your body, chest rising and falling as you come off the adrenaline high.

“Now that was hot as hell sweetheart. You sure know how to make an impression on an old man.”

“Is that right?”

“‘m afraid so.” His eyes watch as you begin to unbuckle your armor, letting it fall from your frame to the floor.

“Then come and get me cowboy.”

@reveluving

#Cooper howard #Cooper howard x reader #Cooper howard x you #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #walton goggins #fallout tv series #fallout #fallout amazon #Cooper howard/the ghoul #Lucy mclean #reader insert #female reader #lacontroller1991 #not sure how this is so please let me know!

359 notes · View notes

roguelov · 11 months

Text

Bubblegum Pop

Summary: An annoying habit of yours - popping your gum - finally pushed Miguel over the edge. So, he decided to finally take action.

Word Count: ~1.7k

Reader: Gender Neutral (not specified)

Warnings: Brief heated make-out (nothing more, just a hint of spice), a little arguing, unestablished relationship

Pop.

Hunched forward - back aching slightly from the uncomfortable position - at your new desk in Miguel’s office, you blew yet again another bubble. It was the umpteenth one within the short hour. Miguel gritted his teeth, each pop grated on his ears.

Why? Why did he agree to this?

Ah, yes, your scientific background.

You had offered your assistance to try to find a more permanent way to prevent anomalies from spilling out into other universes. He was obviously reluctant at first, but before he could say no - as per usual with any help - Lyla appeared saying yes for him. Sighing, he relented. He did need help, he happened to also be very stubborn too. But, he definitely did not agree to deal with your annoying habit.

Wherever you went, and at most times of the day, a piece of gum was slotted between your teeth. You always chewed on a piece, enjoying the simple habit. You like rolling it over your tongue and throughout your mouth, savoring the always fleeting minty taste, and of course blowing bubbles. Sigmund Freud might say you have an oral fixation.

Worst of all, in Miguel’s opinion, the sweet minty aroma clung fiercely to you. One brush by and his senses were assaulted by you.

And it drove Miguel insane.

Dear god, he wanted to kiss you, knowing exactly how you would taste on his tongue. He wanted to have you pinned beneath him, writhing in pleasure. He wanted to nuzzle his nose into your neck, inhaling deeply and running his tongue over your skin. He wanted to -

Pop.

Miguel flinched.

His spiraling thoughts were viciously cut short; thankfully before he got too heated and distracted. His lips thinned. His anger wasn’t all directed solely at you, but mostly at himself for delving into such lustful thoughts. Again.

It was just easier to be angry at someone else.

Miguel peered over his shoulder, glaring a little at you. He stood at his desk on the circular platform that rested a foot off the ground, rather than raised high above towards the ceiling. He tried to keep his voice calm as he spoke, “Can you stop that?”

“Huh?” You glanced over at him slightly confused. The piece of gum rested on your bottom lip and teeth before your tongue swept it back into the dark corners of your mouth. “What?”

Oh, that only further irritated him; your genuine obliviousness to how annoying and frustrating your popping was to his sensitive ears. As if proving his point, you absentmindedly blew another bubble.

“That. Stop doing that,” he huffed.

You blinked, “Oh, uh, sorry.”

You quickly turned back to your screens. You felt a little embarrassed. It wasn’t intentional - it never was - and you felt somewhat guilty for upsetting him. You thought about spitting it out, but you enjoyed the minor stimulation. Then again, you supposed you should act a little more professional. Maybe, you will try to cut back.

Maybe.

Miguel eyed you for a moment. Your figure was hunched forward again. Yet, there was a new tension woven into your body, as if you were trying to shrink away. He sighed. He shouldn’t have snapped, and he should apologize. However, he didn’t. Not surprising. So, he spun around focusing back on his own work.

An hour must have passed. Another agonizing hour with no progress or improvements to show for it.

What fun.

You leaned back in your chair, looking up at the high vaulted ceiling. Crossing your arms, you let out a disappointed sigh.

One act - one simple sigh - and Miguel had to suppress a groan. He was instantly overwhelmed by the sweet mint. He dug his fingers into the edges of his desk. The desk creaked under such strength. His talons definitely made small dents as he desperately held himself back. It was all so enticing. He wanted to taste you, and his body craved you.

Oblivious to Miguel’s struggle, you allowed your thoughts to consume you. Some were important - like the multiple ideas to seal the leaking portals issue to possible new ways to improve Spider Society in general - to the completely irrelevant - such as a song stuck in your head from this morning, thoughts about what to have for dinner, to the more perverse ones about a certain hot headed spider. Thoughts about anything and everything, but not about what Miguel asked of you. No, that one thing had been quickly brushed aside and forgotten: don’t blow any more bubbles.

Your tongue was already going through the habit, a muscle memory at this point. You flattened out the surprisingly still minty gum, rolling over it a few times. Moving it around, you pressed the now stretched piece of gum to your teeth. And without a care or sparing a second thought, you blew.

The small pop was quite deafening in the silent, vast room. So much, it reverberated and echoed just a bit. Almost cartoonishly so.

You instantly flinched in your seat. You almost didn’t dare look over at him. His wrath already emanated from him in waves. Slowly peering over, more so out of curiosity, all you saw was Miguel’s back. His muscles were wrought in tight agitated nerves. You hissed through your teeth and sheepishly mumbled, “Sorry.”

Miguel exhaled loudly, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “God, can’t you do the one thing I asked of you?”

The main problem of Miguel O’Hara was that his anger was infectious. Your embarrassment, and regret, vanished instantaneously. His snide comment set a fire inside of you.

Pop.

Miguel whipped his head around. You leaned causally back in your chair with a bored expression. You cocked an eyebrow and blew another bubble in his direction.

His eyes widened, the gall of you. He stepped down from his desk area, and marched over to you. His eyes burned with a firey irritation. You should be intimidated - and admittedly you were. However, you wouldn’t outwardly show it. He grabbed the back of your swivel chair and whirled you around. He bent down. His hands landed on the armrests, caging you in and looming over you threateningly. “Spit it out.”

You popped another bubble. “No.”

A waft of mint filled his nose. He gritted his teeth. “Spit it out,” he repeated, seething in anger.

You puckered your lips. You didn’t answer. Miguel thought you had finally come to your senses at least.

Nope. He was wrong.

Your lips parted. The pale blue gum was stretched over your tongue. Pressing it to your teeth, you blew. The pop echoed louder than all the others before, or it seemed like it did. A bit of gum stuck to your lip, but you quickly licked it away.

Miguel twitched.

He reached out, grabbing your face and smushing your cheeks. His talons started to dig into your cheeks. You thought he was going to force you to spit it out. You tucked the gum in the back corner of your mouth, then glared ferociously up at him. You tried to jerk your head out of his grasp, but he kept you firmly in place.

He leaned in. His crimson eyes burned brightly. You expected more heated words, calling you such things like childish or immature. Hell, for a brief second, you expected him to reach inside of your mouth. But, he surprised you.

His lips collided with yours.

You inhaled sharply, eyes going wide.

Yet, he did not falter.

Oh, he had you now, and he was ready to devour you. He wanted you. His teeth - his fangs - grazed over your bottom lip. You shivered, and piece by piece you leaned more and more into the kiss. Your resolve, and confusion, melted away. Your eyes fluttered close, thoroughly enjoying this strange turn of events.

Why? Why was this happening … why do I care? Enjoy it.

His hand moved and wrapped around the back of your neck. Tugging on the edges of your hair, he tipped your head back further. He deepened the kiss. His tongue skimmed by, begging for entrance. You happily, almost too eagerly, obliged. Humming pleased, his tongue slipped inside and swirled around. You reached out, bunching up the front of his suit. A moan rumbled in the back of your throat.

And he swallowed it up.

Fuck.

His tongue explored, tasted, and continuously drew out such desires. Your thoughts seized, and your skin ignited with passion. His lips were the gasoline to a small kindling fire inside of you. You were set ablaze. Your heart pounded in your ears, nearly drowning out the sensual noises of him attacking your lips. Your body burned hotter and hotter with each passing second. You were aching for him. To be fair, you always did. But, you never thought the day would come. And you never expected for him to make the first move.

It was too much, and somehow not enough.

Unfortunately, this bizzare dream ended. He pulled away, breaking the kiss. You whined very faintly.

Why? Why did it have to end?

Opening your eyes, you saw a thin trail of spit connecting to his lips from yours. He easily wiped it away with his tongue. You shivered. His eyes shone with such amusement. He greatly enjoyed the effect he had on you. You were breathing heavily, gasping for air. Your whole body slouched forward, drooped with the desire he brought out.

Why? What -

Miguel then smirked mischievously. Ever so slowly, he parted his lips, revealing a piece of gum nestled between his front teeth. You blinked, a jolt ran down your spine. No. Your tongue searched your mouth. Oh yes indeed, that was your gum.

Your eyes widened.

He turned his head, spitting it out in the nearby waste bin.

“Next time,” he began and bent back down to your level. His eyes dropped to your swollen, abused lips. Smirking, he teasingly wiped the corner of your mouth with his thumb. He gently held your chin, tipping it up. Leaning in, he whispered to your lips, “Listen.”

Your mouth just hung agape in stunned silence.

“Now, get back to work.” He let his fingers trail along your jaw, before heading back to his desk.

He was utterly satisfied with the outcome, and pleased to think he made his point perfectly clear. You, on the other hand, made a mental note to always carry a pack of gum on you at all times from now on.

A point was made, just not one Miguel had hoped.

#across the spiderverse #astv #spiderverse #spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #astv miguel #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel x reader #gn!reader #gender neutral reader

1K notes · View notes

themaclean · 2 months

Text

We Don't Have To Be Friends (2/2) Characters: Cooper Howard/Lucy MacLean. Summary: 4,244 words, Post Season One -- character study with porn. Warnings: Nothing you wouldn't see in the show. ( Ao3 ) > Part One | Part Two | Part Three <

If Cooper were an honorable man, he wouldn’t have yanked Lucy’s hair like that.

That thought had buried itself deep into the back of his mind as he wound and unwound the stained rag in his hand. He remained on the marked table in the corner of the hotel room, the evening air musty but quiet. Dogmeat had taken to the bathroom when they’d arrived and Lucy…

His brow twitched as he adjusted his shotgun, his thumbnail dug into the etchings on the side.

Fuckin’ Lucy.

His hand flexed at the thought of her soft hair tight in his grip.

If he were half the man he’d been before the bombs fell, he’d never have done it. Never even thought to do it.

But then she’d slung the word ‘family’ around and started making assumptions about his life. Call it gut instinct or benign cruelty, whatever you like, but he needed her to back off. He didn’t have the words to make her back down, as everything became a debate or a conversation like she needed to know every little thing.

Without words, there aren’t many options left.

He yanked her hair to make his point and shoved her away just as quickly. She hadn’t cried or shouted or done much of anything. She just gawked at him like a child who’d never been scolded, and then she shot off to the bathroom.

Lucy hadn't come out of the bathroom yet.

But then the mental math kicked in, of how the world is how it is now, and it’s hard to care much about honor. It’s that back-and-forth of how he could have done much worse and how he’d gone easy on her, really.

He flexed his fingers around the phantom ache in his palm, that whipcrack decision to push into her space. Worse yet, it wasn’t anger or frustration that spurred him on. It was the underlying hunger that held a light hand against the back of his head, pushing him towards the living.

He thought he might bite into her, to savor her, but he hadn’t.

This time, at least.

During his stint as a Hollywood heartthrob, his friends traipsed with whatever starlet they could get their talons into; Cooper loved Barb. Never strayed, never so much as looked at another woman with intent. He’d been the model husband and kept himself trained on Barb.

All for her, everything for her.

He loved her so much he'd been blind to the shit she'd helped make happen within Vault-Tec. That's its own phantom ache, how being a loving husband rippled out to the end of America as he knew it.

But he isn't in the old world. He isn't even married to Barb; he hadn't been since before the bombs dropped. Divorce, alimony, public humiliation, the loss of his status after Vault-Tec caught on that he’d heard too much.

And yet...

After two hundred years, it’s not living anymore; can’t be. You get numb to the tastes and smells of things and nothing is new anymore. There’s no novelty, no experience you haven’t had. Except in how people die, he supposed. But the day-to-day of life for two hundred years became something else a long while ago.

It's pure instinct, doing whatever you think will best serve you in the moment. Everyone you know dies, and you stop attending funerals or even sticking around long enough to see if they leave flowers for the fallen. Not really any flowers anymore, come to think of it.

With enough time, you can forget most people.

Maybe that was what made the empty thoughts so tempting -- the ones that told him to bite down on Lucy's throat and tear her apart. It wasn't like the zombie shit you see in the movies where it's a switch, where you die and come back with a hunger for brains.

That hunger guided him, even now.

“I wanted to apologize.”

Cooper’s jaw ticked to the side, his head twitched to shake out the instinct to growl. “No.” His gaze flicked up from the shotgun to Lucy’s slim silhouette in the cracked bathroom door.

“You can’t just say no,” Lucy said with a scoff. “Look, I clearly overstepped and upset you. So, I’m sorry if I was prying or pushy. I won’t bring up — that, again.”

Cooper rested his forearms on the edge of the table. The girl had the survival instincts of a goddamn cat curled up in a wheel well in the middle of winter.

“So, I’m sorry. Do you accept my apology?”

“Y’ain’t ever let a thing lie in your life, have you, girl.”

Lucy gave a tight-lipped smile and a slight shrug as if that were a point of pride. “When you’re in a vault, it’s kind of hard to hold a grudge. You have to see people every day and depend on one another, so you — you have to talk it out.”

Cooper’s gaze rolled to the ceiling as he begged for whatever powers above to give him strength. He let the silence sit between them as he clicked his shotgun back into place and ensured a few rounds were ready to go.

He roughly scratched at his neck before he popped his hat back on. His joints clicked and cracked as he got to his feet, the day’s aches setting in. In a few long strides, he set his shotgun on the bedside table.

In all this time, he refused to look at her, even as she implored him with those wide hazel eyes.

“We’ll take shifts,” he said, flat on his back in one heavy thud. He angled his hat over his face, though he could see the door to the room if he tilted his head just right.

“You can’t go to sleep mad.”

Cooper exhaled into the hollow of his hat. “I ain’t mad.”

“You are.” Before Cooper could do much about it, she’d snatched his hat off his face. She stood beside the bed, his hat held hostage as she stared down at him. “I can tell.”

“Yeah, I’m startin’ to get mad; you’re onto something,” Cooper shoved himself onto his elbows, unhappy with her looming over him. He shifted his weight, and his legs snapped out over the edge of the bed. She didn’t have a chance to adjust, now stuck between his knees.

Lucy held his hat high as if he couldn’t stand up and take it back from her. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to have a hostage situation; I just need to know we’re okay.”

“Why’s it so fuckin’ important to you, that we be friends or — or somethin’?”

“Why’s it important..?” Lucy made a raspy noise from the back of her throat as she tried to hold the hat higher. It was pathetic to watch, in all honesty. As if it were something worth bargaining for. “Because it’s about teamwork and caring about each other. And we have to trust each other.”

“Trusting you to keep watch while I sleep is plenty enough to show I trust you,” Cooper said, his tone flat. He wasn’t sure he should trust her now, given how erratic she was being over something as petty as him accepting her apology.

“What if—“ Lucy rolled her lips between her teeth, something painful going on behind her eyes. “What if you decide you don’t need me around and leave me? Then what do I do?”

Cooper caught her hip in the flat of his palm, and his fingers dug into her cotton-clad flesh.

“It happened before, and — and don’t think I forgot how you wouldn’t give me water, and how you sold me for drugs, and — I know there’s going to be a day when we fight and you decide I’m worth more as a bartering chip than as… As someone that you care about.”

“Give me my hat back, darlin’.”

Lucy strained her arm into the air, her gaze fixed down at him. “Just, promise me you aren’t going to hold a grudge and… And that we’re a team, or co-workers, or something.”

Cooper felt his patience hit critical mass as the hand on her hip shifted her weight to pivot her onto the bed. It wasn’t hard to do, to shift his free hand to her throat as he hovered above her.

“Now, darlin’, I hate to say it, but you are bein’ five kinds of hysterical right now.” His grip on her throat wasn’t hard, with most of his weight on his knees and by her hip. His index finger toyed with the hard column of her throat, gentle enough to not hurt her.

Lucy looked strangely relieved by the shift in position. All the prey fear in her eyes had simmered down to something patient and distant. It was like she’d been waiting for him to snap, to turn back into this facet of the man she knew. All the anticipation fizzled out to a stern word and a hand on her throat.

“All I said was,” Cooper adjusted, a deep breath taken for the sake of softness. “Don’t talk about my family. Simple rule.”

Cooper could tell it took everything in her to stay quiet, given how her muscles twitched beneath his calloused fingertips.

And then things shifted around him like he hadn’t been able to see the parts for what they were. They were alone, for one, in a cheap room in a glorified brothel. It’d been weeks since he’d been in anything close to a real bed, albeit moldy and threadbare. Lucy was pressed against him, their knees notched together, one beside the other.

Cooper couldn’t think when he’d last been in this situation. It might’ve been when he still had hair or a nose. The murky haze of shapeless bodies couldn’t compete with the warm-blooded woman with frantic abandonment issues beneath him.

Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it?

Lucy had a damn complex about being abandoned again. Hard to miss a wound that he himself bore. His jaw clicked as he caught the faint smell of soap and sweat on her skin. The cavernous gap where his nose had once been couldn’t pick up much, a small mercy, but it hung in the air between them.

Maybe it was because of a human scent, something about that ghoulish instinct to track down beautiful things and shred them with his teeth.

Lucy didn’t move to push him back, and he didn’t want to move much either. She hadn’t been so quiet since he’d first sent her sprinting to the bathroom out of fear, even though she’d come crawling back with unneeded apologies.

But then he caught it — that redoubled heartbeat as she glared up at him.

Her slim shape beneath him was as fine as any steak. He'd eaten some foul corpses and torn apart bodies to survive. He'd eaten fallen friends and pets. And the longer this went on, the easier it was to commit such acts.

But this hunger wasn't so simple.

"Cooper?" Lucy exhaled, the fine shape of her sternum taut with pale skin and bone.

Cooper trailed his fingers along the bone, dismally aware of how much force it'd taken to pry open her ribs and fish out her organs. Red and gushing and filling — but not worth it. It wasn’t worth it. Cooper’s head twitched to the side as he bit down, that malicious ache for carnage twisted up with the need to bury his cock in her.

“You wanna be something, huh?” His breathing rasped like sandpaper as his fingers slid beneath the faded white button-down.

Lucy gave him a puzzled look but nodded all the same.

His palm lay flat against his tit, in search of her heartbeat. He didn't think about how his scarred skin grazed her nipple or how her rib cage twitched in response. Force of habit drew his thumb back, toying with the sensitive bundle of nerves as a half-smirk kicked the corner of his lips up.

Lucy wouldn't even look at him. Her lips were pursed tight together as she strained her head to the side like she didn't know if she should scream or moan.

It's an unfair trade, as are most in the wasteland if you’re smart.

He's rotten and falling to pieces while she's fresh from a vault. The difference in radiation alone should be enough to make him back off, but he doesn’t care much. And neither does she from how she arched into his hand, despite how angry she looked.

"Sweet thing, your heart's going a mile a minute."

Lucy widened her eyes at him, and her head snapped towards him. “You’re touching me, of course it is.”

"Barely touched you," Cooper said, not sure be cared if it was fear or arousal.

“Sex doesn’t involve this much talking normally.”

“Normally, as per the one time you fucked your husband,” Cooper said as he continued to thumb the soft flesh of her breast. She keened into each movement, not shy or unsure as he’d feared she might be.

“You just like the sound of your own voice,” Lucy said under her breath, her eyes fluttered shut.

Cooper had to laugh, even though he didn’t much want to. If he’d known how easy it’d be to bridge the gap between traveling companions and this, he might’ve tried something sooner.

“You’re reactive,” he said with a tweak of her nipple.

“That’s so weird and gross,” Lucy stumbled over words, her voice too thin to mean what she was saying.

"You're the one who wants to fuck a monster."

"You aren't a monster."

Cooper smirked, unable to help it. "That's the part you wanna argue?" He had her on his back and at his mercy, but she still wanted to argue for his humanity.

Lucy stayed silent, glaring up at him.

Cooper grabbed her by the hip and, in one firm tug, had her cunt flush against the hard shape of his cock through his jeans. His hand snaked from her hip to the soft spot behind her knee, pushing her leg back to angle her to his liking.

"Can we..." Lucy exhaled, her question lost as his hips canted against her.

“Can we what?” Cooper pressed harder against her, his arm twisted around her thigh so he could crack open his belt. He didn’t bother beyond unfastening it, and his jeans peeled aside enough to free himself. He couldn’t hide the hiss of satisfaction as the sensitive head of his cock met the soft fabric and heat between her legs.

“Can ghouls and…” Lucy’s words continued to stick to the roof of her mouth, her eyes trailing over him in the shadows. It was better this way, in the dark, where she couldn’t make out the rough skin and frayed edges where the radiation had hardened and rotted him.

Again, his end of the bargain was far sweeter than hers. He wasn’t sweating it, of how she might recoil and pale at the sight of his mangled flesh. It wasn’t the same as when he’d been human, but the instinct to resist her certainly faded easier.

Cooper couldn't even recall a time he'd jerked himself off. The drive to bury himself in something warm and soft had faded long ago.

It was nice to be in a room with a lock, alone, not surrounded by sand and open air. Dogmeat was asleep in the disused bathtub, with a bunch of blankets Lucy had thrown in there for her.

Nothing to interrupt, the kid down the hall --

No.

Like lightning, deja vu grabbed him by the throat. His face twitched as he put his mind right. There was no kid, and this wasn't his wife. It was the uppity brat from a vault, the product of every fucked part of the old world.

“Like, are we allowed to fuck?” Cooper asked, incredulous.

“No — I mean, I… For the future of humanity,” Lucy stumbled over her words. “If I got pregnant — ”

“Ain’t gonna happen,” Cooper said in a flat voice. If she was worried about some fucked up little irradiated babies, so far as Cooper knew, it wasn’t possible.

“Oh, well, okey-dokey.”

“Okey… Jesus,” Cooper snorted.

Cooper caught the sides of her pajama pants and yanked them out of place in one firm tug. He caught her calves and set her legs over one shoulder, a hand on her ankle while the other settled on the bed beside her. From the look on her face, she was curious to see how this worked — whatever they’d been taught in the vault mustn’t go further than missionary.

In an act of pity or chivalry, he slid back, his eyes narrowed up at her. Some fucking gentleman he had to be to give a fuck, even now when she had no idea what she was after. Not really, not beyond the act of repopulating the Wastes. He hitched her thighs over his shoulders, tongue and radiation-thinned lips flush against her wet cunt.

So much wetter than she should be, given they’d done little more than grind for a few moments. He rattled out a growl from low in his throat, unable to really taste her but wishing that he could. Scent and taste were long-dead, but he’d catch moments of it, faintly, and he was buried between her folds now.

His fingers slid along where his tongue teased, and his gaze fixed up at her. She couldn’t stay still, writhing and desperate, and her pajama shirt pried free now. The slight swell of her breasts and the sharp jut of her jawline were all he could make out as he did his best to get revenge on the fucks in room five who couldn’t stop screaming.

Cooper dipped back, tonguing his lips as she twitched and tensed. “Can feel you holding back.”

“It’s — I can’t, it’s too much.”

His hand stilled. “Should I — ”

“No,” Lucy caught his head, her fingers skating over his leathery scalp. “Please don’t stop.”

“Then you stop holding back,” he said, his fingers curled inside her. “Make a mess of it, ain’t our fuckin’ bed.”

Lucy looked horrified, but Cooper didn’t stop. He kept the same pace, his fingers thudding against that spot that made her tense and shove at him. If he pulled back, she’d drag him close again. His name fumbled past her lips here and there, like she was mad at him, and he just worked her harder.

And then her thighs snapped and near cracked his damn head off, her back arched against the bed, and a desperately wet patch formed beneath his chin between them. He couldn’t hide the shit-eating smirk as he rested his cheek against her thigh, a rumbling noise of satisfaction that some things couldn’t leave you.

Cooper didn’t leave her a chance to recover, owing to the heavy throb at every little noise she made. His cock damn near hurt, and there wasn’t much he could do about it.

Well.

It took a moment, but he had her thighs settled around his hips as he kept it simple for her sake. It stopped being about sex or need and became something even more abstract, that hot ache for warmth and to be inside her. She whimpered with that dazed, empty-faced bliss as he caught her behind the knees. His ruined, rough hands had no place near her pristine vault-grown flesh.

And yet he had his ex-wife to thank — much obliged Barb, you fuckin’ snake. It’s a lashing thought he bit back, that constant push between loving the woman and hating what she’d done. But this was simpler, a pretty young thing slick and waiting for whatever he sought to do with her.

All the times he could have done this shit back when the world was whole. But he never would have. Not back then.

Now…

That lead-weight heat in his stomach spurred him on; a few shallows thrusts were all he could manage before he buried himself inside her. It was such a bone-deep satisfaction he couldn't recall why it'd been so long.

But then he was face to face with her, that pretty, doe-eyed shock as she played catch up with him. He caught her cheeks between his finger and thumb, pushing her head back and pouting her lips.

"This what that vault of yours taught you? Lay back and think of America?"

“It was — our duty…”

“To get fucked?” Cooper couldn’t help but laugh, each long, slow thrust, another scratch to an impossible itch. “Bet your daddy will be real proud when he finds out you fucked a ghoul.”

Lucy mumbled in protest, her fingers digging into his forearm’s patchy flesh. She kept pace with his thrusts, the bruising bite of his fingers on her hips. His other hand remained on her face to keep her looking at him as he bore down.

Their room quickly became guttural noises, his exertion an undercurrent to her yelps and pleading noises. She clawed at his hand, the one that was keeping her honest and facing him. She didn't get to look away and pretend this was some other man fucking her.

Lucy fought against his grip, stuck between glaring and panting. The orgasm she’d squirmed through before and broken to had her dazed and gentle like she was on cloud nine. But the slow increase of pace and pressure had her writhing again like when he’d had his tongue and fingers deep inside her.

Cooper slid his hand lower, his grip fastened to her throat. He gave a few shallow thrusts before he set into a steady rhythm, focused on how damn good he felt. The tighter he pinched the sides of her neck, the tighter she got. That slick flutter of her cunt out of fear and adrenaline, of whether he'd let the blood go back to her head or not...

He really could do any number of terrible things to her, and no one would know. But she came to this seedy hotel room and lazed around and trusted him like the fucking moron she is. And he clung to what thin shred of honor he had to not hurt her beyond what she might enjoy.

It isn’t some big, beautiful moment where they rode out a climax together — it’s far messier, the juts of his hips all the warning he got as he cracked his hips closer to hers. And then there was that tug low in his stomach, the jitters in his pelvis so desperate he couldn’t catch it.

Cooper tucked his head against her neck, his teeth buried into her shoulder as he came. His fingers dug deep into the mattress, a heinous growl between gnashing teeth. They’d stopped the banter long ago, probably due to his comment about her dad — he didn’t care much. He appreciated the silence.

But she was breathing, long and soft, and his teeth were still buried in her shoulder. He couldn’t breathe as easily, a rasping, rolling sound from low in his throat. He swallowed a few times and coughed out of habit.

“You need your meds,” Lucy said, her voice drifting and gentle.

For a moment, he wanted to let go all the way. But he left it at the deep bruise on her shoulder, that crescent of teeth swelling from the pressure. He thumbed the mark and drew back, dressed enough that he was able to tuck himself away in a moment, ready to run or fight if needed.

Lucy…

Cooper coughed into the crushed shape of his fist, her body marked with his grip on her hip, her leg, and her throat. He didn’t feel anything at that, no pride, no guilt. He couldn’t even muster that satisfaction of seeing a naked woman.

Lucy’s hand dipped between her thighs, her fingers tested against herself. He’d come inside her and hadn’t really thought to pull out or ask. Another cough caught him off-guard; his mind shifted to the RadAway in his pack.

“It’s a shame,” Lucy said, a distance in her gaze. “That you couldn’t get me pregnant, even if you wanted to. I feel like you’d be a good dad.”

Cooper had no idea what to say to that.

“I’ll take the first watch,” Lucy said as she moved to get dressed. She didn’t meet his eye but didn’t seem angry.

Cooper strode over to her, his hand on her cheek and his thumb on her bottom lip. He met her eye for a long moment. He bent down to place a kiss as gently as he could manage on her forehead, the cavity of his nose bumping against the top of her head.

Lucy bounced up to peck him on the lips, so chaste you wouldn’t believe he’d just fucked her into the mattress. She smiled that same empty-eyed Hollywood smile. She touched his cheek, her thumb brushed against the hollow of his cheek and over his hairless brow.

“You aren’t mad at me anymore, right?”

“No,” Cooper said, unwilling to get back into it.

“Good.”

There isn’t any room to cuddle, not that he’d want to. Not that she would want to, either. He can’t quite make out what happened between them. But it seemed like it’d put Lucy’s mind at ease, that he wouldn’t turn on his heel and leave. Maybe this was the ‘something’ she needed from him.

Just something that they shared, something deeper than a shared destination.

Just, something.

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

293 notes · View notes

wormtime123 · 1 year

Photo

dug up an old photo study wip from the vault this is your sign to Vote for an icon

#jk do what you want i just wanted to join in the propaganda #grian #ariana griande #my art

2K notes · View notes

2cool4ghoul · 9 days

Text

I can dream, can't I?

Part 2 <3

AO3 link <3

This is my first time uploading anything like this, this dried up old cowboy got me feeling some kind of way! felt like joining the club! I was hoping for this to be multiple parts (featuring pre war Cooper and the ghoul) if anyone is interested in that, let me know!!!!!

word count: 4,349

Summary: You've spent the last few years after escaping your vault roaming the wastelands, doing whatever it is that you need to do to get by. Before the bombs dropped you were a model/singer, which is were you met western movie star Cooper Howard! You two spent the last few months before the bombs dropped falling in love but the bombs put a pin in that. But one day amongst the endless days spent walking, you come across a crazily familiar cowboy....

warnings: 18+, fingering, oral (fem receiving), swearing, minimal violence, if you want a part 2 there will be p in v, restraints, not yet edited.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Whilst the sun proved itself unbearable on most days, today had been particularly blistering.

Traveling through the wasteland alone, on little to no water, with zero companionship had started to take its toll on you and you were sure you were becoming delirious. Your canteen had ran dry a couple miles back, the nearest town was unimaginably far, and you could’ve sworn you’d already passed that mound of dried yellowing grass.

Refusing to admit you were lost, you dug your feet into the sand, one step at a time, panting and wiping the sweat from your brow. It was times like this that made you wish you’d never left your Pip-boy behind in the vault when you made your dramatic exit. What once served as a constant reminder of the vaults would’ve now been your best chance at survival.

You shudder whenever memories of your vault come to mind. The experiments and test you had endured had left enough scars on your body to make you forget what your skin looked like before everything.

Before the bombs had dropped you had been plastered on every other billboard, advertising whatever suspicious product had been shoved in your hands that day. You’d once had dreams of becoming a singer, but that had been stripped away from you in the midst of a messy divorce with none other than the head of RobCo himself. He’d sought to ruin what was left of your dreams in anyway that he could, even if that meant freezing you for god knows how many years and letting men play their cruel games with you in the name of science. These memories were often punctuated with plans of revenge and carefully thought out methods of torture that would yield the most excruciating pain. There was lots of time to think and to plan when wandering the wasteland, so you knew you’d be ready when the time came.

A sadistic grin was wiped from your lips when a distant scream snapped you from your planning. You paused for a moment, frowning whilst trying to figure out from what direction the commotion was coming from. Gunshots were fired, igniting excitement in your belly at the thought of a possible fight, something to break the monotony of walking all day and night long. Once you’d figured out the location of whatever was going on, you paced in its direction, a large dune of sand providing you with a height advantage. The grunts and growls of a creature grew louder, frantic shouts of panic coming from a women.

You could immediately identify the creature by its ungodly noises, however when the scene came into view, you were still impressed with yourself for being correct. A deathclaw had chosen two wanderers as its victims. One appeared to be a vaultie, still in her nearly pristine blue and yellow suit, making you scoff a little. The other, a ghoul dressed in a cowboy get up, his hat having been knocked to the side as he tried his very best to fight of the beast which was barely flinching at the bullets being torn into its skin. The Vaultie had been holding up a tranquilliser gun, which was doing little to deter the deathclaw from sizing up its next meal, managing to swipe her back into the sand with a thud. It then set its eyes on the ghoul, slowly stalking up to them as they hastily reloaded their gun.

After a few moments of deciding on the next course of action, whether to let the laws of nature take their course or to intervene, you decided on intervening. No matter how hard you’d try to forget it, you too had once been a vaultie trying to survive and would’ve begged on your knees for help. Or maybe you had just become soft. Swiftly, you pulled your shotgun from over your shoulder, lifting it and shutting one eye to aim correctly. You squeezed and pulled the trigger, right as it jumped to pounce on the ghoul. Your first bullet lodged itself into the side of the creatures face, and you shot another bullet right between the eyes, leaving it slumped on the floor beside the ghoul, who was now laying on his back, catching his breathe. It took a moment for the two strangers to locate who had saved them as you stood atop the dune, shotgun still in hand, blinking at them with an unreadable expression. Despite saving their lives, you didn’t trust that they wouldn’t turn on you, so you kept your gun in hand, breathing steadily.

“Thank you, stranger! I surely thought that was the end!” The Vaultie beamed up at you, wide eyes showing their relief, the grin plastered across her face, showing too much innocence.

“My pleasure, sugar!” You called back down, your southern accent thicker than it used to be, surprising you even when you spoke. “You two best keep your wits about ya, not everyone out here is as willin’ to lend a helpin’ hand to those in need.”

“We will certainly keep that in mind!” She glanced over at you and then over to the ghoul who was staring at you with wide eyes, his hat in hand, frozen in place.

“Well,” You began making your way down the dune, walking carefully with the gun still in hand due to the Ghoul’s out of sorts reaction to your help, “You wouldn’t happen t’have any water you could share, in exchange fo’ saving your lives?” You tilted your head, diverting your attention to the Vaultie, flashing her one of your signature starlet grins, fluttering your lashes.

“Of course!” She swung her back pack off her shoulder, also choosing to ignore the staring from the silent Ghoul, “I’m not too confident about how clean it is, but it is sure to quench your thirst!” She scrambled for her canteen before passing it in your hands eagerly.

“Thank you, sweet girl.” You tipped your head to her before sipping, coolly, trying not to show how desperately you needed this. Whilst taking your last sip, your eyes got caught in the stare of the Ghoul, feeling him looking you up and down, examining your body and the tattered dress and cowboy boots, taking in every bit of you, eyes still as wide. “What’s tha matter with him?” You pressed as you passed the canteen back, “Looks like he’s seen a ghost.” Teasing, the Vaultie mirrored your confused expression.

“I think I have.” His voice was deep, the southern drawl faintly recognisable. He had finally gotten up to his feet, still standing a safe distance away from you. You took this as an opportunity to stare him down now. His face was marred and textured, his prominent bone structure told you before the effects of radiation took their toll, that he’d been rather handsome. Underneath the many layers of his clothes, a fade blue collar peeked out. You stood in silence, the pressure of his thick glare finally becoming all to much, your hand ghosting over your holster.

“Didn’t your mama teach you it was rude t’stare, old man?” Your tone was now threatening, “are we gonna have a problem?” Licking your lips, you readied yourself, the tension rising as you took a step closer.

“Now, is that anyway to speak to your sherif?” He lowered his voice, so only you could hear him, also taking a step closer, the gap between you so small you could feel his breath fanning over your face. He stood much taller than you, intimidating in his stance, you had to tip your head back and look at him through your eyelashes, furrowing your brows.

“Cooper?...” You stuttered through your own confusion, your head leaning to the side slightly. At this close proximity you were able to properly look into his unchanged eyes. The glowing whiskey colour, twinkling in the hot sun. Immediately recognisable. “Oh, now you’ve got to be fucking kiddin’ me?” You laughed a sinister laugh, as a smug smirk played out over his lips.

Catching him by surprise, you shoved him by both shoulders, sending him stumbling and falling back to the ground. You were quick to straddle his waist, pulling a knife from its holster attached to your thigh. “I’m gonna fucking kill you!” You threatened, he grabbed your wrists in protest, “You fucking knew, you told me I was crazy and you fucking knew all along!” 200 years of grief and longing and anger faltered at your lips, unable to form a full sentence as you both struggled on the floor. The Vaultie had chosen not to intervene, a couple ill attempts at deescalating the situation fell upon death ears.

“Goddammit, darlin!” Cooper managed to hold both your wrist in one hand, pinning them behind your back. He flipped to two of you over, so he was firmly on top of you, the knife dropping from your hand as you fought back tears. You wriggled in his grip, eyes glassy, refusing to meet his own eyes. “You died, you had some awful crash, I went to your funeral.” He hissed at you, “What’re you doin’ here?” You stopped moving, stopping wriggling, the penny finally dropping. You sighed relaxing your body. He took note of this, his body falling next to you tired. You didn’t want to answer his question, sitting upright, deciding to leave the situation.

“Not to intrude, but can someone tell me whats going on?” His companion waved awkwardly, finally taking a step closer to the two of you. You weren’t one to jump to conclusions but you looked back at Cooper and then at the girl, a sly chuckle leaving your lips.

“God, coop, you really are a dog, aren’t ya?” Raising an eyebrow at him, you shook your head, pushing yourself of the ground. “Well, you’ve certainly found yourself shacked up with a real man, miss…?” You spoke sarcastically, picking your knife from the floor, setting back into its sheath, gesturing for her name.

“Oh, my names Lucy-“ She put out her hand to shake yours before she was interrupted.

“Maclean.” It was spoken through gritted teeth, Cooper standing up, staring you down as you kissed your teeth.

“As in Henry Maclean?”

“Yeah, he’s my dad, I apologise in advance for what he did to you.” Lucy’s voice trailed off and she looked down, scuffing her feet.

“We’re looking for him, haven’t seen him have ya?” Cooper was now standing by your side.

“No can’t say I have, I best be off,” His pointed glare looked at you unsure, untrusting of your decision to leave, “now you two have fun!” Turning you back to the both of them, you started walking in the opposite direction, ignoring any further protests, your name being called after you.

There was a slight scratch felt on your back, just below your shoulder. Stopping in your tracks, you reach round to pull out a small syringe. A scoff leaving your lips, the world around you deteriorating around you and melting into darkness. Your knees weakened and you fell directly to the ground, everything turning black just before your head made contact with the sand beneath you.

———————————————————————————————————————————

When you awoke, the room was dark and open, the warm glow of a fire illuminating one corner, casting a flickering orange shadow on the wall. Your head was throbbing, your body aching, you went to lift your arms to rub your eyes. However, you quickly came to realise you had been tied around the waist with rope, arms restrained behind your back, slumped in a chair which was close to falling apart. You writhed against your restraints, huffing before looking up and realising you were not alone in the room.

Cooper was sat opposite the fire, the brim of his hat covering his eyes. “Sleeping’ beauty finally woken up?” You didn’t respond, simply staring him down looking at him past furrowed brows. “didn’t want to tranq ya, sweetheart, but you’re not gettin’ away that easy.” He smirked, leaving his position opposite the fire, slowly wandering over to you, the clatter of his spurs echoing in the empty room. “We got some catching up to do, do we not?” He now stood in front of you, the velvety drawl of his voice sounding better than you remember.

“M’not giving in that easy, Coop.” A smirk fluttered over you lips, blinking up at him through your lashes, sitting back in the chair to pretend at being comfortable.

“No? Of course you wouldn’t,” chuckling, he placed a gloved hand on your chin, forcing you to stare him in the eyes, “you wouldn’t be the lady I remembered so fondly if you did.” There was a chair that he dragged from out of you view, placing it in front of you, sitting down with his legs spread opposite you. “Now, you gonna tell me how you’re still here, lookin’ exactly how I left you, or am I gonna have to do this the hard way?” He spoke quietly, his elbows resting on his knees, leaning in closer to you.

“I’m not telling you shit.” Your chest rose and deflated with every heavy breath you took, his gaze becoming almost as unbearable as the sun earlier that day. He tutted, leaning back, your eyes taking any chance they could to steal a glance between his thighs. He was pretending not to notice but you knew he did. This was the beginning of a sick game. One you definitely wanted to play.

Licking his lips, he looked you up and down, tied up in your chair, squeezing your thighs together. For a moment there was silence, just the crackling of the fire. “What am I gonna do with you?” He muttered to himself as you sat firm in your silence

“I can’t help you, Cooper, I don’t have the information you need.” You spoke matter of fact, and it was partly true. You knew nothing of Macleans whereabouts, you didn’t even know he was still kicking about.

“And what do you know about what information I need, huh?” He pondered, pulling a canteen of water from his coat pocket, your body stiffening at the sight of it. He raised it to his lips, slowly, eyes never leaving yours, even as drops littered down his chin, rolling down his neck. God, you could’ve jumped out of your chair and licked up those drops, drinking the water straight from his mouth. Your jaw fell slightly slack at the sight of it, the thoughts of sucking it up making your hips grind slightly in his direction, begging for any friction. This of course did not go unnoticed, for a sadistic chuckle left his chest, deep and inviting. “My oh my, you always were like a bitch in heat,” his tongue ran across his teeth, “you thirsty, lil’lady?” He gestured the canteen your way, “All you gotta do is ask for it.”

You maintained your burning eye contact, pressing your lips together and nodding. “Gotta use your words,” getting up from his chair, he stalked his way over to you, making you crane your head up, basically panting for him, “go on, girl, ask for it.” He was enjoying this way too much.

“Give me some water.” You almost growled, the canteen so close to your lips, immediately pulled away.

“You need me to teach you some manners, girlie?” He was frowning, standing slightly behind you, just in view, “ask nicely.”

“Can I have some water?” You were restless and if you squeezed your legs shut anymore your legs would be trembling, throbbing with your underwear damp with arousal. A light slap was planted against your cheek, not enough to hurt, but enough to send a shiver down your spine. “I’m not begging for it, Cooper.” Your tone was firm, but not firm enough to be truthful.

“Is that so?” His hand had moved down to your neck, grabbing firmly and tilting your head back so you could see him standing behind you, canteen in one hand. “Then you’re not gettin’ any.”

He kept a hold of you, like a wild animal, whilst he took another gulp of water, droplets dripping from his mouth pattering on your forehead and cheeks. Your mouth fell open, in the hopes of catching some, but you failed, only earning a throaty laugh from Cooper. “Christ, women, Look at you!” You’re cheeks flushed red with shame, humiliated with the mess you were. “You know what you gotta say-“

“Please Cooper Howard, I am begging you, Please!” You whined, close to tears as he raised where his eyebrows had been, watching you finally give in, pleased with himself. “Please.” You repeated breathing heavily. Your mouth dry, tongue running over your lips.

“Open wide, angel.” He mumbled, grip on your neck loosening ever so slightly. He tipped the contents into your mouth, water had never tasted so good, you let out relieved moans as you were replenished, not caring for the water that was spilling down your chest, falling between your breasts.

Whilst you took a moment to release a sigh of relief, the hand around your neck began traveling down, causing the tension to immediately rise back up. “That wa’nt so hard was it?” The depth of his voice and his accent leaving you quivering. His hand found its way to your breast, cupping and squeezing it, your back arching to his touch. He had been the last man to touch you like this, all those 200 years ago, and you’d dreamt of it ever since. You had never imagined you’d be lucky enough to experience it again. Yet, just as quick as his touch was on you, it left. You furrowed you brows, turning to try and meet his gaze with a pout, yet he was walking back out in front of you. Your bottom lip was tugged between your teeth as he had a sly grin on his lips. If your lips weren’t saying it, your big eyes were pleading with him to give you something else. Painfully slowly, he dropped to his knees in front of you, and your body involuntarily scooted to the edge of the seat, embarrassed by your own eagerness.

Despite him still being the man you’d once known somewhere in there, he’d been changed undoubtedly by his years of wandering. You shouldn’t be attracted to him anymore in the way you were. It was shameful of you to be this eager and will for him. Begging for any slight touch. Begging for a ghoul to give you something for your aching cunt to squeeze around.

“Why don’t you be a good girl and spread those legs of yours, show me what I been dreamin’ ‘bout?” Dripping with lust, he ordered whilst pushing your dress up around your waist. Doing as you were told, you opening your legs, being slightly shy. “No use being shy now, girl, open ‘em wide for this o’cowboy.” His annoyance only spurred you on, spreading them as wide as you could in the chair. “Goddamn,” He hissed, running his bare finger tips over your clothed arousal, the material slick and wet, “Your pretty lil’ pussy, practically dripping for me,” he groaned while pulling the fabric to one side, eyes taking in the sight of you panting, mouth wide, spreading your legs like a good girl, “all over a drop o’water?” He had a smirk on his new wet lips, that you just wanted to slap off. You thought for a moment of clenching your thighs around his head and neck and choking him out, yet you figured he’d enjoy that too much for it to be a form of punishment.

When his mouth kissed against your inner thighs, you whispered a gasp, thighs finally trembling giving in to showing him how desperate you were for him. He was being cruel, teasing you and testing your limits. He refused to give into what you wanted without hearing you beg for it once more, taking immense pleasure in seeing you quivering and leaning into his slightest touch. His lips ghosted over where you needed him most, your eyes growing glassy, your stomach burning with desire, body aching from the tension you so needed releasing.

“Oh god, Cooper please, I need you so much, I’m achin’, it hurts, I need you.” Your words came out quickly, breathlessly, surprising the two of you, wiggling against the restraints, wishing to just grab his head and shove it into your grinding heat. He glanced up at you for moment, “please, I cant take this anymore.” You shook your head. “I’ll tell you anythin’ you want, please, just… just give me something.” A blanketed layer of sweat had ran over your body, glistening in the dimming glow of the unattended fire.

“You gon’ be a good girl f’me?” He looked at you sternly, his breath fanning over where you needed him most.

“I’ll be so damn good, I promise, I’ll do anything you want me to.” Swallowing down whatever was left of your pride, you scooted even closer to him and he hummed closing his eyes for a moment.

“I could listen to you beggin’ f’me all day.” He finally gave in.

His tongue lapped against you, a moan finally escaping you, He’d taken your thighs and rested them over his shoulders, full delving into you. His tongue dipped into you and you mewled. You so desperately wanted to touch him, pull him closer. The tension boiling within you was dangerously close to spilling over, embarrassingly fast. “God,” his voice vibrated against you, “You taste even sweeter than I remember, my sweet sweet girl.” He was in complete bliss, giving into a self indulgent spree of groans, sucking you in trying to taste as much as possible. Your thighs knock off his hat, yet neither go you seem to notice. He sucked at your clit, finding the sweet spot that he always knew so well, causing you to writhe and curse his name.

“Oh, Cooper, I’m gonna… oh please!” His hands dug into your thighs, leaving red marks that would definitely leave a bruise in their wake. He maintained his actions, until one hand reach round, finger tip tapping your clit whilst his tongue dug into you, readying himself to taste you as you came undone.

“You gon’ cum for me, darlin?” He cooed.

This was enough to set you over the edge, “Oh my god, fuck!” You rocked forward, like a women possessed, as you clenched and squeezed shaking and shivering for him. Gulping for air, you were seeing stars, “There you go, attagirl.” He groaned, working you through you orgasm as the tension in your body released, your limbs relaxing. You were whimpering, expecting to feel his presence leaving you. However he remained, the pace of his fingers on your clit was fastening. Your back straightened, wishing you could relish in the release for longer before he started again. “I need a moment.” You panted and he looked up at you, pulling his face away, the sheen of his orgasm on his lips.

“No can do, sweetheart,” shaking his head, knelt in front of you, “I’m not finished with you yet.” Your eyes widened, gulping for air, mouth dry again.

The finger was gone from your clit, pushing its way inside you as you threw your head back welcoming its entrance. “Besides, looks like youre takin’ it just fine to me.” His cocky voice was barely audible over the moans as he rutted his finger into you. He forced another digit in, slowly testing you with the feeling of pulling them all the way out and then all the way in again, knuckle deep in your cunt. You ground your hips against his fingers, eyes rolling back into your head, “God, look at you, fucking yourself on my fingers, you needy lil girl.” He tutted at you, dumbfounded by your willingness.

He curved his fingers, grazing against the spot which made you arch your back, “right there, sweetheart?” There was a gentleness in his voice, looking up at you as you clenched all your muscles against the rope, tied way to well for you to break free.

“Mmhmm, right there, cowboy.” You forced your words out, struggling to cope with the pleasure rushing through your body. Eyes squeezed shut, clenching around his fingers, fighting another orgasm with all your might, trying not to give in so easily this time. “I want you so bad.” You groaned and he went slightly rigid.

“Lets not move too fast now.” His jaw clenching, his own restrained demeanour threatening to break and snap. His quickened his pace with his fingers, trying to distract himself from the aching bulge of his own. “Don’t hold out on me, princess, I can feel how close you are, the way you squeezing round these fingers, come for me one more time.” He growled it, thrusting his hips into nothing, watching the way you were unraveling and moaning his name. He hadn’t expected you to be so eager, the rough exterior very different to the man you’d fallen in love with.

The ever-growing tension was released once more, heart pounding in your chest, eyes rolling back until they’re were squeezed shut, cursing profanities and taking the lords name in vain, letting out unholy noises, rope beginning to rub the skin writhing beneath it raw. “Oh Cooper Howard, don’t stop.” You continued rolling against him, the use of his full name setting his heart alight. The waves of pleasure didn’t seem to stop, his fingers riding out the high for you, body shaking with tears rolling down your cheeks. Your body was truly truly spent. You had nothing left to give except for a lazy half lidded gaze at coop who was still kneeling opposite you, proud of himself that after all this time he was still able to leave you a dripping mess, trembling for him, moaning his name. Silence filled the room, your body slumped in the chair, staring down at him. You forced a lazy smile.

“What do ya wanna know?"

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #walton goggins #Cooper Howard Smut #cooper howard #the ghoul #Walton goggins smut #smut #walton ghoulgins #x reader

184 notes · View notes