The Ghoul X You - Tumblr Posts

This was literally perfect, thank you so much! I think you described so well how Cooper would address this kind of situation. The detail that he worried the whole time if the reader was mad at him was so nice as well. I totally agree that he knows the kind of despair the reader is going through like the back of his hand. It's so tender, so raw and so real. This was amazing and I'm definitely gonna come back to this when I need some comfort. You have no idea how much this means to me <333

Hello! I would like to request Cooper Howard x gn!reader (post war, because...murderous cowboy...hnnngh), where they struggle with mental health issues like depression? I've been in a really tough spot, having no energy or motivation to do anything or really any desire to take care of myself. So I was thinking, maybe the reader's mental health is declining, they're slower and sloppier when it comes to keeping up with Cooper and he's more and more frustrated. Then one day he has enough (maybe the reader is taking too long packing up) and threatens to leave them and they're just...passive, because they really don't care anymore about what happens to them. So he realises they haven't been taking care of themselves properly for a while now and then some soft moments with him? I know this is pretty dark and you can change this however you'd like, but I'm dying for some hurt/comfort with this man 🥺 It's totally cool if it's too much for you, if you decide to not write this, please just let me know, so I don't wait for it. Thank you so much, I love your Cooper fics <3

Cooper Howard | The Ghoul x gn!Reader

Synopsis: You’ve been struggling lately, putting both you and your traveling companion in danger. He was bound to confront you about it eventually. Tags: Prompt Request, Not Beta Read, Gender Neutral Reader, Depression, Mental Health, Mentions of Suicide, Disagreements, Comfort, Lazy Day, Cuddling, Beginning Relationships Author's Note: Trigger warning for topics relating to mental health, such as depression and suicide. Please do not read if you’re not in a good mental space. Take care of yourselves. Also, everyone’s experience with depression and mental health issues differs, so I am writing this story the way I experience it. Also, this was a fun challenge to write. Like how the hell would he approach a topic like this? It’s been fun to explore his character like that, and I hope I did it justice. Thank you so much for the request! <333

You used to be able to keep up with the Ghoul. 

Wherever he went, you followed, tearing through the Wastleland without hindrance. You watched his back, and he yours, a security that was unheard of in this world. It was a trusting friendship, bordering on something else, something that neither of you had crossed yet. You couldn't compete with over a hundred years of experience with a gun, but you were able to hold your own quite well. You were a decent shot and someone who never let anyone get the drop on you, senses always sharp. 

So when you started missing easy targets and found yourself surprised by opponents one too many times, you knew it was a matter of time before the Ghoul started asking questions and not believing the first lie that you said. The first time it had happened, you blamed it on your lack of sleep, and he seemed to buy it. And maybe you convinced yourself it was just a lack of sleep, ignoring the darkness that had begun to emerge in your mind. You just needed to rest, was what you told yourself. 

It happened again a few days later, completely missing a target in front of you. Your reactions had begun to slow down, too, unable to avoid the swing of a blade, cutting across your cheek. It was like your body gave up on wanting to move, an unbearable weariness to your muscles that you were unable to shake. Later, as you bandaged the wound on your cheek, the Ghoul confronted you, demanding to know why you were acting so sloppy. You’d merely shrugged, offering up the idea that you were sick. This time he seemed less convinced, yet he had let the matter go. 

You knew why you were acting the way you were. You weren’t unfamiliar with depression, far from it. It was something you’d dealt with your entire life, coming and going like waves. You’d go days, weeks, months and you’d be fine, but then a flip would switch. You’d lose your energy, your motivation, wanting nothing more than to just lay on the ground and never get back up. You’d stop taking care of your body. You’d lose your appetite. Your thoughts would turn dark, ideations and ideas flashing in your mind, things that you’d never tell another soul. 

For the months you’d been traveling with the Ghoul, you’d been able to keep a reign on your depression. Sure, you had your off days, but nothing like this. It was like the universe was punishing you for having such an excellent past months. 

But how could you explain this to your traveling partner? How could you explain that you didn’t have the energy to continue existing, to continue fighting? He needed you to be alert, to not have your thoughts occupied with something, that in perspective to the Wasteland around you, was trivial. 

So you kept your mouth shut, forcing yourself to appear alert and unaffected. You forced those thoughts to the back of your mind. You forced your body to move, no matter how much it screamed at you to just be still.

But it seemed that all that bottling your thoughts up did was make it worse. As the days dragged on, you stopped talking, only muttering small words whenever the Ghoul asked you a question. You’d normally spend the time traveling conversing, and the Ghoul did try to initiate a conversation with you, but no amount of questions and joking and jabs could get you to break. Eventually, he fell quiet too.

Sleeping became a challenge. You’d think with how exhausted your body felt, you’d be able to sleep easily, but the opposite was true. Hours would tick by, and you’d lie awake, getting up the next morning more exhausted than before you went to bed. Your face, already a bit gaunt from living such a difficult life, had grown even more so, the circles around your eyes darkening and your lips growing more chapped. 

You stopped eating, turning away the food he offered you. After you went a few days without eating more than a bite, he practically forced spoonfuls of food into your mouth, snapping at you the entire time. It was humiliating, but you couldn’t bring yourself to change. You just wanted to be done. 

You could tell that your demeanor was starting to annoy the hell out of the Ghoul, whose words had turned shorter and snappier. If you took too long, he’d grab you by the shoulder and drag you along, like an upset parent with their child. Your cheeks would burn every time, tears pickling your eyes, and you’d hang your head. 

There was a tension growing between you and the Ghoul, your friendship growing thin. His guard was up constantly, unable to trust you any longer to watch his back, which hurt you more than any knife or gun. Soft glances disappeared, his gaze scrutinizing when he looked at you. Light touches from him reserved for when you were at rest were no more, as you chose to keep to yourself every night. Instead of walking side-by-side, you’d linger a few feet behind him. You pretended like it was easier this way, to make him push you away, but it was tearing you apart. 

But eventually, that tension snapped. Too many close calls, too many sluggish movements, too many half-hearted excuses finally made him break. You’d just gotten up for the day, another sleepless night behind you, and you were packing up your few belongings. You must’ve been taking too long, because you heard him sigh audibly, standing in the open doorway of the room you’d sheltered in for the night. “What’s your fuckin’ issue?” He growled, arms crossed tight over his chest.

You looked up, feigning confusion. “I dunno what-”

“Bullshit,” he cut you off. He began to walk towards you, his steps methodical, threatening. “You’ve been actin’ like this for weeks, and you’ve only offered me half-assed excuses.” He was seething, and understandably so. He crouched down in front of you, rendering you unable to escape. “So, you,” he stuck a finger in your chest, barely avoiding hitting you, “are gonna tell me why. And don’t even think ‘bout lyin’, sweetheart.”

You swallowed, heart hammering in your chest at the confrontation. Words flooded your mind, a full explanation on the tip of your tongue, yet you just couldn’t bring yourself to utter it. Your mouth opened and closed, struggling, until you eventually just gave up. Sighing, you just shook your head, which pissed him off even more. 

A disbelieving laugh left him, and he ran a gloved hand over his face. “No? You’re kiddin’ me, right?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Ya know, I’ve tried to be lenient. I bought into your fuckin’ lies that you were ‘just tired’, ‘just sick’. I tried to give ya space, to give ya time to get out of this. But you’re gonna get us both killed if ya don’t fix yourself. I can’t be distracted out there, constantly worried ‘bout you and keepin’ you alive, ‘cause it seems like that’s the last thing on your mind.”

He took a breath, steadying his rising voice. “So I’m gonna give ya one more chance to explain yourself, or else I’m leavin’ without ya.”

“Then leave.” Your response came almost immediately, your voice lacking any inflection. Even though in the back of your mind you were screaming at him not to leave, you kept an air of indifference about you, unable to make yourself care. It would be easier if he just left, wouldn’t it? You wouldn’t be putting anyone else in danger, and you wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt you felt of him worrying about you so much. And it would be so much easier to just disappear if there was no one looking for you.

He wasn’t expecting that as a response if the look on his face told you anything. His brow muscles were raised, leaning back from you in shock. But the way he was watching you, it was like he was observing you in a different light, dots beginning to connect in his mind. “You’ll die out there without me.” 

You merely shrugged your shoulders, glancing down to continue packing your belongings, no longer able to look him in the eye. He didn’t respond, simply standing up with a sigh. You didn’t look up, not even as you heard him walk away, backing towards the entrance of the room. You didn’t look up, even as you heard the surprisingly gentle click of the door as it shut. You didn’t look up, even as the tears that you’d been holding for the past weeks finally fell.

You were alone.

You thought it would make you feel better like there would be a weight lifted off your shoulders. But everything just felt heavier, the thoughts in your mind becoming a tempest, making you physically weak. Expletives tumbled from your lips as you sagged down onto your arms, head hung. Of course, he’d fucking leave, you idiot. No one wants to deal with your moping.

A part of you wanted to chase after him, to beg him to stay, but you already felt pathetic enough. You couldn’t blame him for leaving, not at all. You were weighing him down, putting his life in danger; he said so himself. He could only deal with you for so long. You should be grateful that he didn’t leave sooner.

The sound of rustling fabric made you jump, finally looking up. The Ghoul had taken off his jacket, laying it across the back of the couch he had slept on, never having left the room at all. Stunned, you watched him sit, taking his hat off in the process and setting it on the floor. He finally caught your eye then, a soft look on his face, a look you hadn’t seen in a long while. 

“I thought you left,” you whispered, sitting back upright. Embarrassment warmed your cheeks, and you tried to wipe the tears that had fallen on them. 

“I ain’t leavin’ ya, sweetheart.”

“Why not?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Do you want me to go?” You’d never shaken your head faster in your life. “Then I’m stayin’.”

“But why?”

He sighed. “‘Cause I care ‘bout you. I… Is that too hard to believe?”

It is. Unable to find words, you just shrugged again. 

Something akin to regret or remorse flashed across his face, and muttering something under his breath he reclined against the couch. He was upset, but even now you could tell it was not because of you, at least not fully. “C’mere,” he murmured, patting the couch beside him. “You look like you’re gonna fuckin’ bolt at any second.”

Taking a steadying breath, you complied, albeit with some difficulty, your legs barely wanting to function. His gaze didn’t leave you once, as much as you wished it would, making you want to collapse in on yourself. The walk to the couch felt like it was miles long, but you eventually made your way over to it and him. 

He rolled his eyes when you just stood there in front of him, unsure of what to do with yourself. “Sit down, I ain’t gonna fuckin’ bite.” In another situation, you knew he’d add some comment like unless ya want me to, but he bit his tongue. The couch groaned as you sat next to the Ghoul, keeping a foot between your bodies. “Talk to me,” he commanded, yet his voice was gentle. “What the hell’s goin’ on?”

You picked at the skin around your nails, no doubt drawing blood. “I’m… I’m not quite sure how to explain it,” you responded, and you expected your words to upset the man even more. But he nodded his head slowly, an almost understanding look on his face. “I’m just… done."

“Done with… what? Bein’ out on the road?” You shook your head. “Travellin’ with me?” You shook your head again, this time more vehemently. “Done with what?” You knew that he knew the answer to his question, but he wanted you to say it.

“I’m done with… with existing. I just can’t bring myself to care anymore. I’m just so tired of it all.” You sagged back against the couch like speaking took a toll on your body. “I’m so tired.”

He didn’t respond for a while, mulling over your words. “That… that explains a lot,” he chuckled humourlessly. “Your mind won’t just leave ya the hell alone, will it? It's like all your mind can focus on are these terrible fuckin’ things, no matter what ya do. And it just weighs on ya, like a million pounds, getting worse with every passin’ day until you just wanna… give up.”

He explained it perfectly, and you cocked your head to the side, a bit confused about how he was able to do so. “I ain’t a stranger to what you’re goin’ through. We’re well fuckin’ acquainted, to say the least. So I shoulda recognized it sooner with ya.” 

He paused, sighing. “Wanna know somethin’?” You nodded. “I was too busy thinkin’ ‘bout what I did to upset ya that I didn’t bother to think of any other possible reason as to why you’re actin’ the way you are. But once I realized it wasn’t my fault, not entirely, instead of bein’ there for ya, I was an ass. I thought, because I’m a damn idiot, that you were just mopin’ around for the hell of it, putting us both in danger simply ‘cause you were tired or some shit. Not once did I stop to think why. And I apologize.”

“You don’t gotta-” He cut you off with a pointed look. “I… I accept your apology, then.”

He nodded slowly, content. “I’d like to help ya, sweetheart. I know nothin’ I say or do is gonna make it go away like that… but I’d like to try. Whatever ya need from me, and you’ve got it.”

“I’m not sure what I need exactly,” you admitted quietly.

“When ya figure it out, will ya let me know?” You nodded.

“Just… be patient. As difficult as that is for you.” You hadn’t meant for the jab to come out, but you weren’t taking it back. Especially when a loud laugh left the Ghoul, making a smile of your own appear on your face. It was faint, yet it was there.

An almost starstruck expression appeared on his face, his laughter dying out. “I missed seein’ ya smile,” he murmured as if it was a subconscious thought.

You ducked your head, making him laugh again. “As for bein’ patient, well, I can be that, if that’s what ya need.”

“It’ll take some time,” you cautioned again, indirectly giving him a chance to back out of this. 

“Time ain’t an issue. I’ll wait as long as it fuckin’ takes.”

“You mean it?” Your voice was so soft, barely audible to either of you. 

You watched as one of his gloved hands inched towards you, palm upturned. Tentatively, you placed your in his, eyes growing wide when he brought your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it gently. “I swear,” he uttered, sealing the promise with another press of his lips.

As you returned your tingling hand to your lap, his eyes scanned over your face, a furrow appearing between his brow. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten somethin’? Somethin’ that I didn’t force ya to eat,” he added when you opened your mouth to respond. 

Your silence said enough, and he leaned down to his bag, which he had placed beside the couch when he sat. After a few moments of rustling through, he handed you a small bag of what appeared to be jerky, as well as a small canteen of water. “It ain’ human,” he added when you eyed the bag suspiciously before taking it.

The jerky was salty and tough when you took a bite, not quite wanting to, but unable to not eat under his gaze. You ate in silence until your stomach was full and your teeth hurt from the tough material. Taking a swig of water, you could feel your eyes growing heavy, eating seemingly draining your energy more than replenishing it. Stifling a yawn, you shoved the canteen back into his hand, and you noticed he had an almost pleased look on his face. 

You were confused, though, when he stood, making his way to the entrance of the room. For a moment, those thoughts flashed in your mind that told you that he was finally leaving, that he realized how pathetic you were. But instead of doing any of those things, you watched as he simply wedged a chair under the handle of the door, like he had done before you went to bed for the night. 

“What’re you doing?”

“We takin’ the day off. Doctor’s orders.”

“But aren’t we supposed to be in Filly in a few days?”

“We’ll be fine. You are gonna spend today catchin’ up on some much-needed rest.” He stood in front of you now, a moth-eaten blanket in his hands. 

“And what are you gonna do?” You asked, and he shrugged. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, sweetheart. Go ‘head, lie down.”

Your eyes quickly scanned the couch, and you took a deep breath before speaking again. “The couch is big enough for us both, no?”

For the second time that day, you’d stunned him with your responses. “Is… is that what ya want?”

Encouraged that he hadn’t just outrightly said no, you nodded your head, and a fond look crossed his features. He handed you the blanket before sitting once more, but instead of his back being against the cushions, he rested it against one of the armrests, not before tucking a pillow in front of it. 

Once he was situated, he opened up his arms to you, and you could’ve laughed at how uncertain he looked. Hands rested on your body when you laid down, head on his chest, laying on your stomach, and you made sure the blanket covered both your bodies as best you could. You weren’t too worried about covering all of you, though, with the sheer amount of warmth he was radiating. 

His eyes were already on you when you glanced up, a smile pulling at his lips. “Comfy?”

“Yes.” Your voice was barely audible, but he heard it. 

You felt his fidget with something in his hand behind your back, but you didn’t have to wait long to find out what he was doing. You felt fingers run along your scalp, making you shudder, before combing through any hair there. “Alright?”

You sighed contently, nodding your head before letting it fall back onto his chest. He continued to run his fingers there, his other hand tracing patterns across your shoulders. You hadn’t realized how tired you were until now, finding it hard to keep your eyes open. For the first time in a long time, you felt safe. Safe from the world outside this room. Safe from the thoughts that plagued your mind. Safe from everything. 

He didn’t have to see your face to know that you were struggling to stay awake. “Go to bed. I’ll be here when you wake.”

“Promise?”

“Ain’t fuckin’ like I’m gonna be able to get up,” he chuckled, before taking a more serious tone. “I promise.”

That was all you needed to hear before you finally let the final strings of consciousness leave your grasp. Before you lost control of all your senses, though, you felt him lean down, pressing a barely-there kiss to the top of your head. “You’ll get through this, sweetheart.”

You believed him.

"Thinking I don’t love you, ‘course I do, sweetheart.”

Summary: (y/n) storms off after an argument with Cooper thinking he doesn't care about her but she soon realises that someone is trailing her.

Word count: 0.8K

Warnings: Swearing

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“Fuck you, Cooper.” I grab my rucksack

“I’d happily oblige.” He teases despite me being frustrated.

“I’m not joking, Cooper, leave me alone.” I say storming off.

“If that’s what you want, sugar.” His refusal to react with any emotion only makes me more annoyed as I walk off into the desert. 

“I’m serious, I’m leaving and you can’t stop me.” I yell, turning back to look at him briefly before heading off into the desert, despite it nearly being night time.

The temperature drops quickly as the sun disappears from the sky but I keep my eyes set on some ruins not too far on the horizon to stay for the night, just to be away from Cooper no matter how cold I’ll be without him.

Getting there, I stay the night on the cold, hard floor, regretting not taking the makeshift bedding from Cooper’s bag when I left so I prepare for an uncomfortable night.

Unsurprisingly, I wake up early in the morning, just as the sun comes up, waking me up as I pack all my stuff up and leave, deciding arbitrarily that I’m heading into town to top up on supplies that I forgot to take from Cooper before leaving.

I stop from lunch, sitting down at the top of a sand dune and pulling a small amount of food that barely equals lunch but it’s the best I’ve got to eat. Ripping open a pack of overly dry crackers, I bite into one of them, regretting not taking more water from Cooper.

I keep watch on the horizon before seeing someone walk over one of the dunes, I take my sniper off my back, using the scope to check out the threat before seeing someone dressed exactly like Cooper. I sigh when he gets closer, his face identifiable.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I mumble, watching as Cooper walks through the desert, the same path as I was walking.

I throw my backpack on, opting to eat the dry crackers on the move to get away from him. Checking back every now and then, he trails me throughout the desert but stays far enough away that I can’t talk to him, barely able to identify him without my scope.

I turn around and stop walking and watch as he gets a pair of binoculars I bought for us out of his bag to look at me and I put my middle finger on both hands up at him, hoping he’ll get the hint but I imagine he just laughs, dismissing me.

He follows me until I reach the treeline where he’s unable to see me anymore, waiting for him to take the bait. Waiting, I use my sniper scope to see how close he gets and as soon as he breaches the treeline I stand up.

“Can you stop fucking following me? I told you I was done.” I huff.

“You ain’t done. You ain’t never gonna be done with me ‘cause you couldn’t handle it.” He smirks.

“You seem to be the one who couldn’t handle it - following me around.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I need you as much as you need me so why are you messing around?” He asks.

“Because you’re a dickhead.” I point out.

“That’s true but I’m a lotta things and if that’s the only one you have a problem with then I’d say you’re dealing with me pretty well.”

“I have more problems with you.” I cross my arms, stubborn.

“Please, go ahead, feel free to list ‘em.”

“You’re mean, you’re rude, you never admit when you’re wrong, you, you, you never wear socks with your shoes.” He chuckles at the last one. “And you never tell me you love me and it feels like I’m just following you around like some lost puppy that you found on the street and felt bad for.” 

“You done?” I take a breath that he takes as a yes. “You’re one silly woman, you. Thinking I don’t love you, ‘course I do, sweetheart.” He scoffs, wrapping his arm affectionately around my neck and pulling me closer to press a kiss to my forehead. “Now stop running away and come back with me.”

I pretend like I’m even gonna make the choice not to go with him, I didn’t take all the supplies I would’ve needed and I can’t even lie about the fact that I love him and probably wouldn’t last that long without him. “Fine.” I sigh. “But you’ve got some making up to do.”

“‘Course, ‘course. If I didn’t make you feel loved then I’ve definitely got some making up to do.” He says. “Now, get your bag, let’s go.” He says and I grab my rucksack, throwing over my back before he takes it off of me carrying it for me. “Least I could do.” He says, when he sees my slight confusion but I don’t complain. “Now come on, sweetheart.”

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AN: I hope you enjoyed reading!

Thank you for reading!

The End of the Beginning

Previous Part / Next Part

Cooper Howard x fem!reader A/N: I’m going to use my How About a Nuke? taglist for my Cooper Howard one shots/stories from now on. If you do not want to be on the taglist, please let me know and I will remove you immediately. I’m considering writing some more for these two, let me know what you think in the comments.

Summary: You don’t know how it starts. But you know how it ends. 

There’s not a specific moment where you can pinpoint how this whole sordid affair began. Not a true affair, in your own defense. Nothing physical ever happened between the two of you, but what did happen was somehow almost worse.

Maybe it was when Bud first introduced you to him or when you began to eat dinners with his family. It could have been the times he would randomly drop by your home for a drink, you’re not sure. It doesn’t even matter, you know that no matter what it never would have ended well for either of you. 

“Mr. Howard, it is a pleasure.” The man in front of Cooper is someone he should recognize, he knows he’s met him before. But his face could blend into any crowd, he’s drawing a blank and failing not to let it show. 

“How’re you,” the question trails off awkwardly and the woman beside the man is clearly trying to hide a smile. 

“Uh, Bud,” he offers up, his smile waning slightly, “Bud Askins. We met a couple of weeks ago.” He’s grasping at straws, eyes desperate for some sense of familiarity within Cooper’s own gaze. He would feel bad for him, but something about this man sets Cooper on edge. 

“Bud,” Cooper offers him the kind of smile he gives every fan and it does the trick like usual. Bud lets out a sigh of relief and shakes Cooper’s hand with a vigor that rattles his teeth. The woman clears her throat, glaring at the back of Bud’s head. 

He finally remembers himself and turns towards her. “Right, my apologies.” Bud moves back and she steps forward, her hand outstretched towards Cooper. She’s got a disarming smile which is a nice change from Bud’s overeager one. 

She seems happy to have met him, but not the starstruck joy he’s used to. It’s refreshing to not have someone be eagerly shouting at him what his favorite movie of theirs is. She offers him her name and he repeats it, liking the way it feels when he says it. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

She doesn’t get offended by the brusque question. She drops his hand and glances back at Bud, “I work for Mr. Askins. I’ll be helping you in adjusting to your new Vault-Tec life.”

He frowns, brows furrowed in confusion at the way she phrases her answer. “Vault-Tec life? I thought this was just meant to be some ads, a few billboards maybe.” He chuckles, hoping to ease the tone of the conversation, but they don’t buy it. She shares a concerned look with Bud and they glance back at Cooper before whispering something to each other. 

Bud listens to her speak, but his gaze stays locked on Cooper. He doesn’t look happy anymore, if anything he looks concerned. Cooper sighs and wonders, not for the first time, what Barb has gotten him into. As if summoning her, his wife pops up behind him. 

She wraps an arm through his and he feels himself easing back into her touch, hoping she can provide some clarity. “I see you’ve met Bud and his assistant.” There’s an odd tone to her words when she addresses the other woman. 

Her gaze snaps from Bud’s and she shoots Barb a sharp glare. “I am not Mr. Askins’ assistant.” Barb clears her throat and she winces, quickly amending her statement, “If anything, I believe I might be your husband’s.”

Cooper wraps his arm around Barb’s shoulder and draws her closer to him. She smiles and looks up at him but he can’t find it in himself to return it. With each new development in this Vault-Tec partnership he finds himself growing more and more hostile towards the company. There’s just something about this whole idea that has him unsettled. 

It’s not that he doesn’t see the need for the vaults, he does. If anyone understands the dangers this war is presenting, it’s him. He’d been on the frontlines, he knows just how bad it’s getting out there. But, the way Vault-Tec is going about everything is unsettling. Capitalizing off the American people’s suffering isn’t something he’s interested in endorsing. 

He’s been questioning more and more everyday if that's exactly what he’s doing. 

“That’s the confusion, honey,” he glances down at Barb but she’s sharing a look with the other woman that he can’t understand. “I don’t see why I need an assistant.”

She sighs and finally looks back at him. She laces her fingers through his and gives him a comforting smile, “Let’s go talk.”

You watched as Barb dragged Cooper away from you and Bud. You knew this wasn’t going to go over well. You’re not sure why anyone at the company even listens to Bud’s asinine idea’s anymore. You give your boss a discerning look but he’s still staring after his crush, the Cooper Howard. 

There must be some cunning snake under the surface of this bumbling baboon. You certainly don’t see it, but someone had to have at Vault-Tec for him to have crawled so high up the ladder. You look over your shoulder at Cooper and, not for the first time, a pang of guilt stabs through your stomach. 

Same as everyone else, you idolized Mr. Howard. It was hard not to. He’d fought for your country in the Sino-American War, defending Alaska. And then he came home and instead of protecting America’s citizens, he made it his job to uplift and entertain them. 

He was an incredible man, and if you weren’t so worried about protecting your own ass you’d feel bad for what Vault-Tec’s mission is going to do to him. 

Barb had brought concerns to you and Bud that Cooper was… slipping. She seemed to think his priorities had shifted and he was growing suspicious of Vault-Tec, and by extension her. 

He was right to be suspicious, there wasn’t a day that you weren’t disgusted with yourself for working for who you do. But you also would like to survive this coming nuclear holocaust, so you learned to live with it. 

She seemed to think that giving him an assistant, one of Bud’s Buds, would help get him back on track. You’re not sure why Bud had chosen you for the job, but he seemed to think you would be charming enough to snag Cooper’s attention. 

You were to bond with Mr. Howard, become his friend and gain his trust. When the time came for him to start questioning you about Vault-Tec and their true intentions, you would say something to calm him. 

Essentially, befriend him and then lie to his face and make him think he wasn’t promoting the end of the world. Barb didn’t want her husband to ever learn about the truth of who was really pulling the strings of the war. 

Cooper was led back to you both by Barb with a smile on his face. He seemed more open to you now, too, offering you a polite nod of his head which you returned. “Barb, here, seems to think I need myself a personal assistant.”

You laughed amicably and shrugged, “You’re a busy man, Mr. Howard. I’m just an extra set of hands.”

He shook his head and waved you off, “Call me Cooper, please, it seems like we’ll be spending a lot of time with each other anyway.”

You smiled, your gut twisting with disgust when you saw the earnest look in his eyes, “Cooper.”

“Good morning,” Cooper leaned over Barb’s shoulder, landing a quick peck on her cheek. She smiled and squeezed his arm before glancing at the clock and frowning. He already knew what she was gonna say. He was going to be late. 

He smiled at her, taking a sip of his coffee. She seemed to notice the look on his face because she just sighed and shook her head. “I don’t think you’re going to be able to get away with this anymore.”

He laughed and shrugged, “Why not? It’s a part of my signature, I’m always a few minutes late.”

She glanced down at the Pip-Boy on her arm and something seems to have caught her attention. She let out a haggard breath and put Janey’s lunch box on the counter. “Don’t let her leave without this.” She ran to the front door and Cooper frowned as he watched her run around the house, frantically collecting her things. 

“Where are you going?”

She was already halfway out the door when she called out a quick, “Work emergency.” He shook his head and rinsed his mug out in the sink. He’s had work emergencies before, none of them so urgent he would have left without saying goodbye to their daughter. 

He sucks on his teeth, staring over at the front door. What does she do for Vault-Tec? Had she ever really told him?

Had he ever asked?

His thoughts are interrupted by a series of blaring honks outside his front door. He figures Barb had forgotten her keys in her rush to get out of the house. But when he steps onto the front lawn he sees you parked along the curb, staring expectantly at the door. 

You lift your sunglasses up, your lips tilted up into an easy smile and you wave at him. “Morning, Mr. Cooper,” you shout across the driveway. 

He scoffs and walks towards your convertible. You’ve got the roof tilted down, a scarf wrapped around your hair to keep the style. You light up a cigarette while he approaches. He leans into the car and stares at you with a disbelieving look on his face. 

“What are you doing here?”

“We’ve got a packed schedule today, can’t be late.” Barb’s warning suddenly makes sense now. You, apparently, weren’t the type to let him be a little lazy. 

He’d almost forgotten she’d forced an assistant on him. He’s still not happy with it, feeling like he’s being babysat more than anything else. 

She’d made it clear, though, that there wasn’t much room for arguments when it came to you. He doesn’t understand why she was so adamant about this. Most wives would prefer their husbands didn’t spend all day with such pretty assistants. 

“Barb’s just run out, I’ve got to drop Janey off at school today.” You sigh, face screwing up as he speaks. You flick the cigarette onto the pavement and fiddle with the Pip-Boy you’ve got on your passenger seat. He’s surprised not to see it on your wrist, most Vault-Tec people treat it like a fifth limb. 

You screw around with it for a minute before you finally look back up at him. “We can make it, get her out here.” You toss the Pip-Boy in the back and place your hands on the wheel. You give him an expectant look and he realizes you’re not gonna let him argue with you about this. 

“Aren’t I your boss, darling?”

You scoff, tone sardonic, “Sure, Mr. Howard.” He sighs and finally heads back inside. Janey is more than happy to ride along with you. Cooper less so. You seem keen on breaking every damn speeding law to get him to work on time. He’s not sure he trusts his life in your reckless hands. 

You peel into Janey’s school, practically kick her out of the car, and then you’re off again. “You can slow down, you know.”

You glance over at him, a sly smirk on your lips. “I’m not making you sick, am I?” 

He eases up his grip on the door handle and shakes his head. “I’ve worn a power suit, sweetheart, not much can make me carsick.”

You shrug, “Good, then I think I’ll keep going like this.” He shakes his head, slightly miffed by the insubordination, slightly impressed. It’s nice to have someone who treats him like he’s just another regular Joe. 

Most of his former assistants kissed the ground he walked on and were terrified to say one word against him. It gets tiring after a while, that sort of behavior. He’s seen plenty of his costars let it get to their heads and turn into someone egotistical and vile to be around. He doesn’t want to turn out like that. 

He’s never wanted the fame to twist him into something he isn’t. He has a feeling you don’t let many people walk over you. You also don’t seem to have a problem with being assertive. It’s odd, these behaviors in someone in a position of subordinance. 

Makes him wonder if being an assistant is your actual job, or if Bud had demoted you for some other odd reason. 

“I really don’t want to intrude.”

Cooper waves you off and shakes his head, “Not at all. I’m inviting you, honey.” You sigh and grit your teeth. You know what you’re supposed to say. You’re supposed to thank him and accept the invitation to dinner. 

But being with him everyday for the past few weeks has made it nearly impossible to keep this up. He’s an incredible man, kind and honest to a fault. He’s got such strong principles, to be openly manipulating those against him makes you sick to your stomach. 

You thought you would be able to do this. So many times in your life you’d heard never to meet your heroes. You figured Cooper would be like every other pretentious asshole in Hollywood and you would have no problem lying to his face. 

But he is so much more than that. He’s so much better than the people you work with and for, so much better than you. 

Still, a job is a job. You don’t do this and you’ll be kicked out of Bud’s program and left out with the rest of civilization to burn up when the fallout begins. 

You reason with yourself that by doing this you’re also ensuring Cooper’s safety. As long as he believes in Vaut-Tec, in you, he’ll have a place at the end of the world. 

It doesn’t make you feel any better. 

“Thank you, I’d love to join you.”

He grins at you and walks off to wrap up his last scene of the day. You let out a long breath, slumping against the concession table and rubbing at your forehead. You’re losing sleep over all of this. Your nails are brittle, hair splitting, and health declining with the amount of anxiety and guilt you’ve been carrying around. 

Despite your resolve mentally, you’re really not sure how much longer you can go on like this physically. You’ve always been a horrible liar, especially when you’re lying to people you care about. You should have gotten an Oscar for getting this far with him. 

The drive to Cooper’s home that night is silent. To punish yourself, you don’t turn on the radio and force yourself to wallow in self hatred the whole way there. You berate yourself and come up with about five different reasons to get yourself out of being his assistant. 

But when you knock on the door and see his smiling face you can’t force a word out. He’s so handsome, cleaned up and his hair slicked back. You could get lost in his eyes when he speaks to you. You force yourself to keep your mouth shut and just eat dinner with him. 

Barb keeps sending you appreciative smiles all throughout dinner and you want to stab your fork through her hand. You might be a horrible person for lying to him, but she has to be the worst damn wife you’ve ever met. She claims to be in love with Cooper, to care about him, but the way she manipulates him goes against that. 

You don’t get to claim to love someone and then treat them like that. She won’t even let him take Roosevelt! You know for a fact that animals can go into certain vaults, she just hates that dog. 

“I have to be a good man gone bad in this one.” Cooper explains to Barb. She’d asked after the latest script changes but she didn’t seem wholly interested as she messed with her Pip-Boy. “I don’t really like it, I’m meant to be a sheriff, not a cold-blooded killer.”

Barb scoffs and shakes her head, “Even good men have to make bad decisions, Cooper.”

Cooper straightens up and glares at her. At his silence she finally looks up, her face quickly becoming guarded at the look on his. “Not all of them,” he argues, voice soft. You and Janey glance between the two of them, this goes beyond a simple script change. 

“Well,” Barb goes back to cutting her steak, shaking her head at him, “that’s a very naive way of looking at the world.” She gives him a sharp smile, her eyes empty and cold. 

You’re grateful when Janey passes a piece of broccoli to Roosevelt and the both of them are snapped out of their pseudo argument. Barb snaps at the dog and Cooper laughs, you shrink into your chair, wishing to be anywhere else. 

When dinner is over, you clean up while Cooper and Barb put Janey to bed. You slide open the door to the backyard and tug a cigarette out of your case. You dig around in your bag for a while, nearly breaking down when you can’t find your lighter. 

“Need this?” Fire sparks up before you and Cooper grins as he holds his lighter out. You smile in relief and thank him, sparking up the end and taking a deep inhale. You feel yourself relax slightly, easing off of the meltdown you were about to have. 

Little things keep seeming to build and build on top of you. You’re hanging on by a very thin thread and you’re worried about what’s going to happen when it snaps. “You alright, sweetheart?” He seems genuinely concerned and you can’t even look at him anymore. 

You take a seat and nod, focusing instead on the stars above you. He’s further out from civilization, he’s got a better view of the night sky than you do from your crowded apartment. “Just been a little stressed out lately.”

He sits beside you and reaches over, his hand lands on your thigh and he squeezes. It lasts less than a second, it’s clearly meant to comfort you but it sets your body on fire and you turn away from him slightly. He frowns, an apologetic look on his face and he backs off. 

You can’t find it in yourself to feel guilty. You don’t need to start being attracted to him on top of lying to him. Not when you just scorned Barb for the exact same thing. “I hope I haven’t been adding to that.”

You look over at him and shake your head, “Not at all,” you’re the only reason I’m like this. 

He seems to catch onto what you’re not saying. He might not know exactly why he’s stressing you out, but he’s more perceptive than others give him credit for. Still, he doesn’t say anything. He just nods and takes a swig from the glass of whiskey resting in his lap. 

“Sorry about earlier.”

“What?” He sighs, giving you a look that tells you not to bother playing dumb. You shrug, “Wasn’t the worst fight I’ve ever had to watch.”

He shakes his head and runs a tired hand over his face. “It wasn’t even a fight. That’s what bothers me, she says these little things and sometimes it just goes right over my head.”

You find yourself speaking before you can stop yourself, “It’s only later that you realize she was being cruel.”

He looks over at you and nods. His head tilts in confusion, “You know what I’m talking about?”

You nod, puffing on the cigarette between your fingers before you continue. You feel yourself starting to ease up again, your shoulders finally lowering from their place next to your ears. “Yeah, I’ve got a long list of ex’s like that.” Your mouth snaps closed when you realize what you said. 

You probably shouldn’t be saying ex to the man you’re trying to keep with his wife. But he doesn’t get upset, he only sighs. The sound is resigned, like you’re only confirming something he already knew to be true. 

“You don’t seem very happy,” Cooper glanced over his shoulder and spotted you. You had your heels in your hand, making your way across his back deck to stand next to him at the pool. You drop the heels on one of his lawn chairs and sit down to dip your legs in the pool. 

He stays standing, staring down at you. You look up and offer him a tired grin. You must have been about as sick of this as he was. After a minute he finally sat down beside you. “Can’t say I’m pleased to have all these people in my house.”

You both glanced back at the party. Dozens of Vault-Tec employees streamed in and out of his living room, their voices carrying, even back to where you and Cooper were hidden away. He hated this, feeling out of place in his home. 

“None of your friend’s wanted to come?” You glance over at him, a concerned look on your face. He appreciates it, your concern for his comfort, especially considering Barb doesn't seem to care for it at all. She hadn’t asked if he was okay with this, or comfortable with this wrap party. She’d simply gone ahead with it and then sprung it on him. 

“Seb was here a while ago but he left.” He scoffed and threw back the rest of his drink. “Can’t say I blame him, if it wasn’t my house I would have left hours ago.” 

You shrugs, “Let’s go.” You’re staring at him, eyes wide and earnest like it’s the simplest solution in the world. 

He laughs, more surprised than anything, “What?”

You stand up, tugging your heels back on and holding a hand out to him. “Let’s leave. I can’t say I’m very happy to be here either.”

He argues, “These are your coworkers, sweetheart.” But he still takes your hand, getting back to his feet and letting you lead him through his back gate. You tug your keys out of your purse, sliding into your little convertible and giving him an eager smile while you wait for him to follow. 

“They're a bunch of vultures, Coop. Let’s just get out of here.” Hearing you use his nickname affects him more than he wants it too. Affection has been few and far between at the house lately, he finds himself leaning into it when you offer it more than he should. 

Things are tense between Barb and himself, but he’s still a married man. He shouldn’t get so happy when you call him Coop. And he really shouldn’t be leaving his wife behind at this ridiculous fucking party and getting in your car. But he finds himself going against his better knowledge and following anyway. 

He doesn't ask where you’re taking him. He doesn’t even care, he just wants to be near you. You’re kind, you don’t judge him. You leave him feeling a little weightless everytime you snap one of your witty little retorts at him. He’s charmed by you, more than he should be, but he can’t bring himself to be bothered by it. 

You’re eating shitty junk food and sipping on Nuka-Cola’s in the back of your convertible. Cooper kind of feels like a teenager again. It’s been a long time since he’s had some decent greasy burgers. Barb doesn’t like bringing fast food into the house and it’s been a while since he and Janey have snuck some on the way home from school. 

You’ve parked your car in the desolate parking lot of the closed shopping center. You’re both quiet, staring up at the stars or the bright flashing billboards across from you. Cooper glances over at you and curiosity gets the better of him. 

“How’d you end up working for Vault-Tec?” You give him a questioning look and he shrugs, taking a sip from his bottle. “Just doesn’t seem like your sort of company.” You seem too kind for them, too compassionate. 

“I, um,” you chuckle, swiping away some condensation that had dripped onto your bare thigh and Cooper follows the movement lazily. “I got swept up in the war time efforts. There were a bunch of campaigns to get women to start assisting during the war.” You rolled your eyes and laughed, “The Nuka-Cola girl roped me in with her patriotism and I found myself at a plant assembling your power suits.”

Cooper’s shoulders tense up and he has to fight off a nasty retort. You catch his gaze and flinch away from it slightly. He doesn’t blame you for all the faulty defects in those suits, but he’d watched good men and women die on the frontlines because of those damn things. It’s hard not to get angry when they’re mentioned, especially because they’d told them the suits weren’t safe. The government forced them into them anyway.

”I know, there were a lot of defects. A lot of people died because of those suits. That’s how Bud discovered me actually, I raised hell with my supervisor. I tried to get them to fix the issue or just stop manufacturing them. We were wasting good supplies on death traps.”

You shook your head and sighed, “It didn’t matter what I said. They never stopped making them. But, Bud, liked my fire. He thought it showed good leadership skills that I was so willing to stand up for what I belived in. He took me to Vault-Tec when he left the suits behind.” You took in a deep shuddering breath, for a moment Cooper could swear he saw tears in your eyes. “I always seem to work for the wrong side.”

He’d been reaching out, hoping to offer some comfort, when his hand stopped. It dropped back down to his side and he glared at you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Your eyes widened and you froze, seemingly caught off guard. “What?”

“‘I always seem to work for the wrong side.’ What’s that supposed to mean, sweetheart?” Is this it? The confirmation that he’s been looking for that his fears weren’t unfounded. Had you known this whole time he’d been fighting with Barb and not told him?

He didn't want to believe it. He couldn’t believe it. How twisted had his life become that he was putting more faith into you, practically a stranger, than his own wife. 

You shook your head, a frown appearing on your lips and eyes boring angrily into his. “That’s not what I said.”

His mouth opened in shock, not quite sure he was hearing you properly. “What? Yes, it is.”

“Cooper,” you snapped, his name sounding harsh for the first time. You’d always spoken so sweetly to him, he couldn’t understand where this was coming from. “That’s not what I said, what is your problem?”

Could he have misheard you? You’d never gotten mad at him before. You would only be acting like this if he really was wrong. He sighed, figuring he should just drop it before he made things worse. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

Your eyes softened and you reached out, giving his hand a quick squeeze. “It’s alright. Let’s just enjoy tonight.” He nodded, leaning closer towards you while you reached forward to turn the radio on. Despite the both of you knowing it was a bad idea, you rested your head against him. Snuggled up together and watching the stars, he could get used to this.

You hear your name, rushed and bordering on a shout. You whip around, frowning when you see Cooper barreling towards you. He reaches you, grabbing you by the elbow and dragging you into an empty office. 

You’re taken aback by the aggression in his actions but you’re more concerned when you notice his eyes. They’re bloodshot and his cheeks are flushed, like he’s been crying or was trying not to. You reach up before you can think, hand cupping his cheek and ignoring the minute way he leans into it. 

“Cooper? What is it? What’s wrong?”

His eyes are wild, darting all around the room like he’s waiting for someone to jump out and grab him. “It’s Barb. I put a transmitter on her Pip-Boy and I heard her in her meeting. She’s talking about starting the nuclear war, she’s going to fucking kill everyone.” You step back from him, arms dropping to your sides. 

“Cooper,” his name is a barely heard whisper. “Why did you have to dig?” It’s over. You knew this was coming. Cooper was too smart not to start digging on his own, even without your reassurances. You’d only delayed the inevitable and hurt yourself in the process. Hurt him. 

He frowns and shakes his head, stepping back from you. His face moves through a hundred different emotions, faster than you can process, but you manage to catch a few of them. He’s betrayed, hurt, disgusted by the sight of you. “You knew?” The words are spit out with such venom you nearly flinch from him.

You can feel tears burning the back of your throat and you glare at him, “Why couldn’t you have left it alone?” It’s misplaced anger, you know. You’re mad at yourself for getting involved in this, for dragging him down with you. You’re mad at Barb and Bud and all the fucked up corporations you keep finding yourself employed by. But the anger strikes out at him and you regret it immediately. 

“You knew!” It’s not a question anymore, it’s a realization. He shakes his head and he almost looks more hurt than when he discovered Barb. “You’re fucking sick, all of you!” He’s out the door and down the hall before you have a chance to stop him. 

You sink back against the wall, wiping at tears that won’t stop coming. Betty finds you, she takes one look at you and then a dissapearingCooper before she’s dragging you into Barb’s office. “You need to wait here for them.”

You don’t argue, there’s no point. You’d failed in your mission and Cooper was beyond Barb’s grasp. Maybe it was for the better, that he got away from her while he could. Dying rather than being trapped in a vault with her might be a better ending for him. 

You can’t get that look of his out of your mind, not even while Barb berates you. She nearly fires you, but Bud stops her. She storms out of her office and you just keep replaying that moment with Cooper. You could have played along with him, never let him know you knew about Vault-Tec and just run away with him. 

But the thought of living the rest of your short life lying to him makes you sick to your stomach. 

Bud calls your name for the inth time and grabs your shoulders. You snap your gaze up to his, finally noticing that he’s been kneeling in front of you this whole time. ”You have to go in early.”

You shake your head dumbly, not understanding what he’s saying. He frowns, eyes desperate and he keeps glancing over his shoulder. “Barb is livid. She wants you gone. We’re gonna have to send you down early.”

“You mean…” you trail off, mind going blank at the thought of being put into cryo months before you were prepared to. You want to argue with him and tell him you need more time. Thoughts of going after Cooper and trying to make him see reason float through your brain. 

He seems to track your train of thought because he shakes his head. “We can’t delay this. You go now or you don’t go at all.” 

You hadn’t realized just how much Bud seemed to care for you until this moment. The sheer determination on his face that he wouldn’t let Barb bury you would have made you sentimental were it not for the current gut wrenching feeling of heartbreak you were experiencing. 

He stands up and glances over at Betty. The worry slowly disappears as a plan starts to formulate within him. “Betty will take her car and get you to the vault, I’ll have people there ready to take you in.” He grabs your arm and yanks you out of your chair. “You need to leave now, before Barb comes back with security.”

He and Betty share a look over your shoulder before she nods. She grabs your elbow from Bud and marches you down the hall. You’re barely present for the walk through the hallways of Vault-Tec. You don’t have time to take in the world around you, appreciate the beauty before it’s gone. 

You’re numb. Stuck in a limbo and paralysis of your own creation. When you make it to the vault, Betty leaves you there to be taken in by the guards. They lead you to Vault 31 and march you down the long hall until you reach your cryo pod. 

You don’t know when you’ll be released, what the world will be like when you come back out. But you know Cooper will be gone and there'll be nothing left for you. 

You step into the pod and let your eyes slowly drift closed. 

Your pod pops open with a hiss and your head lolls to the side. There’s an odd buzzing noise before you but you can’t see much of anything. “It will take a minute for your eyes to adjust.”

Your brows furrow as you place the voice, “Bud?” Your hands grope blindly through the dark for the edge of your pod. Your eyes begin to thaw, vague shapes and colors making themselves clear to you first. “If you’re here, how long have I been asleep?” 

Odd, you can’t make out his form anywhere, but it sounds like he’s right in front of you. You step down and there’s a loud buzz, like wheels rolling across metal. “Watch out!” You tilt your head in confusion, blinking the rest of the frost out of your eyes and gasping when you see what’s in front of you. 

A brain on a fucking vacuum. “Bud!” You shout, completely caught off guard by this new look of his. 

He sighs, the sound robotic and staticky. “Yes, it’s me. It’s the only way I could stay alive to monitor the success of my vaults.” Even just as a brain, you can still hear the pride in his voice, “I am proud to say that we have been most successful these past two hundred and thirteen years.”

You can’t respond, winded by how long it’s been since you’ve been asleep. Everything you’ve ever known was gone. Officially. 

Your mind drifts to Cooper but you stop it before it gets too far. Even before he found out about your role in Vault-Tec, you were never going to be in the same vault as him. No matter what, the two of you would never have seen each other again. 

There’s no reason to mourn him now. 

Bud rolls in front of you, leading you to the door of the vault. “Hank MacLean and Betty will be here to greet you. You’ll be a part of the Triennal trade, your official entry into vault 33.” He’s rapidly firing off information faster than you can keep up. 

You know the protocols, they were drilled into you long before you came down here. For every one of Bud’s Buds they had to marry their way into the vault they were entering. You just prayed Hank was kind enough to give you someone nice to marry, maybe even tall. 

The vault’s door is rolling open before you get a chance to prepare yourself. Ten smiling faces stare eagerly at you, you offer them tentative looks. You search among them for Betty and Hank, it takes you a moment to recognize them. To realize that the two old people at the front are Hank and Betty. 

They’d been out much longer than you had if the wrinkles were anything to go by. 

“Welcome to vault 33!” A big eyed girl shouts at you from behind Hank. You offer her a shaky smile, racking your brain for what you’re supposed to say. 

“Thank you,” the words are stilted and you wince internally. “In honor of your welcoming, my vault has sent ahead supplies and crops. My overseer apologizes for not being here to greet you all, but I’m happy to be here!” The words sound scripted, more than you would like. 

Betty picks up on your discomfort and ushers you forward. “Come on, you should meet your husband.” You shoot her a scared look but the face she gives you shuts you down. There’s no backing out of this, as much as you might want to. This is your reality now. 

“Norm, meet your new bride.” 

Well, he’s certainly not tall. 

“I still can’t believe you're not pregnant.” You hand Lucy a wrench and she frowns from her place on the floor. She pauses in her repairs of the pipes for a moment to pester you further. “Have you had the doctors check my brother’s sperm count?”

“Lucy!” You admonish, glaring down at her. She shrugs, not finding any fault in the question. You don’t have the heart to tell her that in the three years you’ve been married to her brother you’ve only had sex once. 

It was your wedding night, extremely awkward and unpleasant for both of you. Norm wasn’t the type to just easily trust someone he didn’t know and you were still nursing a heartbreak he could never comprehend. He wasn’t a bad husband, he was actually amazing. 

You two just seemed to work better as partners rather than husband and wife. You both kept your nightly activities, or lack thereof, to yourselves. It wasn’t exactly smiled upon to not be actively trying to repopulate the earth. But the extremely personal questions about your husband’s sperm and your fertility were beyond annoying. 

Still, everytime you even consider trying again with him you think of Cooper and want to cry. “His sperm count is fine. It just takes longer for some couples.” She doesn’t seem like she wants to let it go, but you force her to by shoving her back towards the broken pipe. 

You know she’s only been bugging you about it because her time in the trade is coming up. She’s just worried that her relationship will be like yours and Norm’s. She wants kids in a way you can’t bring yourself to and she’s worried her fertility takes after her brother’s. 

You understand the fear, but if she asks you one more damn time you’re going to clock her over the head with a hammer. Steph comes up to you both and gives you a placating smile. She must see the murder on your face because she offers to distract Lucy.

You thank her and storm off back to your housing unit. Norm, thankfully, isn’t home when you get there. He’s too perceptive for his own good sometimes. You don’t think you’re mentally there enough to try and lie to him about why you’re upset today. 

You decide to just call it a day. You’ll go to bed and when you get up, it will be time for Lucy’s wedding. You can just look forward to that and ignore the issues within your own marriage. 

You clutch your bleeding stomach while Norm grabs you and drags you under a picnic table. You both watch in stunned, traumatized, silence as your fellow vault dwellers are slaughtered all around you. Norm’s hand is gripping yours so tight you can feel your bones grinding together but you can’t point it out. 

A raider shoots at Bob, the kind old man who would slip you extra jello, and his blood splatters into your open mouth. It’s only a shoulder shot, he could live. But the raider is pulling out his machete and charging towards him. You make to leap out from under the table but Norm yanks you back. 

“Norm!” You hiss, but he just shakes his head. Your eyes widen in disbelief, you can’t believe him. Sitting here and watching your friends just die. You could help, you can’t just sit here. You yank your hand out of his and charge out from under the table. 

Your arms wrap around the raider’s waist and you both go flying. He lands on top of the wedding cake, frosting smearing across his bald head. You wrestle for his machete, eventually ripping it out of his hand. You thrust it up into his chest and he falls limp on top of you. 

You grunt at the impact, slipping on top of Lucy’s ruined cake while you roll him off. Lucy storms down the stairs, holding onto a wound matching yours. She offers you her hand and helps you to your feet. “Norm?” She questions, eyes watering and desperate. You point to where he still sits under the table. 

Across from you Steph grabs a gun and starts mowing down raiders left and right. You’re bending over for the raider’s machete when someone knocks into you from behind. You fall forward, head snapping against the concrete and vision going black. 

You don’t know how that horrible beginning with Cooper Howard started. When exactly you began to fall for him among your betrayal. But you know how it ends. It ends with you following Lucy MacLean out into the brightness of the Wastelands. It ends with his death and the Ghoul’s birth. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

I’m not sure if I’ve put this in my last few posts or not. But, all of my dividers are the creation of @saradika-graphics (give her some love bc she’s amazing)

Cruel World

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Cooper Howard x fem!reader A/N: I just realized the first episode of the show is titled The End lol, chapter one’s title makes so much more sense now. I’m a genius.  Also, I promise this isn’t going to be a copy and paste of the show. Just how this chapter is so I could set everything up.  (Let me know if you would like to be removed/added to my Cooper Howard taglist) Summary: After the shit show that was Lucy’s wedding, you’re trying to get your life back on track. But you should have known that she wouldn’t give up so easily on her father. You could stay in the vault, throw your name into consideration for Overseer. But you never wanted that. It’s a risky decision, one you’ll probably regret, but you decide to go with Lucy. Someone’s got to watch her back.

“Probably one of the best weddings we’ve ever attended.” Norm gives you a curt look, not even sparing you a smile at the comment. Maybe it was too soon, but you didn’t know how else to break the tension between the two of you. He returned his attention to wrapping up the wound on your side. 

He pulled the StimPak out of your med kit and you turned away from him as he plunged the needle into your tender flesh. He preferred to just get things over with, he wasn’t the type to count down to three and hold your hand. But he still offered you a comforting squeeze of the hand when he was done. 

He stood up, disposing of the used needle and coming back to sit beside you. He didn’t look at you, his shoulders slumped over as he stared down at his hands. If anything it felt like he was actively trying to avoid catching your eye. “Norm?” You questioned, voice bordering on concern as you reached out towards him. 

He shook his head and stood up, glaring down at the floor as his fists clenched by his sides. “I hid,” he muttered, voice dripping with disgust. Disgust directed at himself. You knew he was going to beat himself up about this for a while. And you couldn’t lie, couldn’t hide the fact that his cowardice had bothered you a little. Norm was never the type to appreciate white lies like that anyway. He didn’t want someone to stroke his ego, he wanted honesty. 

“You did,” you replied stoically. He scoffed, a humorless sound. “People react differently to fear, Norm.”

“You fought,” he snapped back, finally looking at you. He sounded angry, but you knew it wasn’t directed at you. “You fought for our friends and I hid under a picnic table.” You couldn’t comfort him the way you wanted to. You couldn’t tell him that you had been trained and coached for these sort of disaster scenarios. Vault 31 was full of leaders, fighters, and those coached for every possible mishap. 

Norm would never be as prepared as you, Steph, or any other Bud’s Bud would be. “I’m your husband,” you had to hold back a laugh at that. But he seemed to catch the sight of your upturned lips anyway. It caused some of the tension he was holding to leave him as he laughed. A small laugh, but real this time at least. He sunk back down into the chair by your bed and sighed. “I should have helped you, or protected you. Anything other than hide while you were nearly blown up and my dad was taken by raiders.”

You reach out, taking his hand and squeezing it in reassurance. “I’m no more your wife than you are my husband,” he offers you a weak smile and you grin back at him. “We both know we never wanted this, it was forced on us.”

“Gee,” he interrupts, sarcastically, “you sure know how to cheer a guy up.”

You roll your eyes and swat his hand, finally releasing him. “But, I’m glad it was you, Norm. If I had to be stuck in this fucking vault with someone, I’m glad it was you.”

For a moment, he looks genuinely touched. He opens his mouth and you almost expect a kind reply in response. Instead he says, “You mean you don’t love the amenities vault 33 has to offer you?”

You laugh, shoving his shoulder and wincing slightly at the pain it causes in your abdomen. “You’re such an ass.” 

He smiles at you and gets up to get you some water, sending you a fond look as he does. You mean it, Bud had done you a favor marrying Norm. No, you weren’t exactly in love with him. And he really wasn’t your husband in anything other than name. But he was a good friend and you were grateful for the company he provided you. 

A few days later, when everyone has recovered enough to be up and moving around. An assembly is called. You sit beside Norm and Lucy, taking in the destruction around you and shaking your head mutely. Things had been going so well. Three years and not a moment of discontent. 

It was getting fucking boring. 

If it weren’t for half your friends dying, you’d be grateful to the raiders for finally spicing things up a bit in here. Before everyone can fully settle in, Lucy is shooting to her feet and proclaiming, “I have a proposal for the assembly.” You glance up at her as everyone quiets and she looks around at them, a little uncomfortable at all the attention. “We send a search party to the surface to look for my dad.”

You huff, glancing over to Betty and catching her eye. She doesn’t do much, just a subtle quirk to her brow that you know means it’s never going to fucking happen. Around you everyone starts whispering, openly objecting to the idea. The whole point of this vault, as far as they know, is to one day go to the surface. 

Clearly, they were getting a little too happy within the comforts of the vault. “They don’t want to find dad,” Norm mutters and both you and Lucy turn to him. “If they did, they wouldn’t get to be in charge.” You turn away from him, back to Betty. You see the look on her face and you know he’s right. 

Getting released at the same time as Hank must have killed her. She’d always wanted to be the overseer, it’s what she was trained for. Being outvoted to Norm’s father had probably wrecked that volatile ego of hers. This was her chance, there was no way in hell she wasn’t going to take it. 

Lucy looks around at all of the frowning faces of your neighbors and you see something in her break a little. She’s got an endless optimism that, at times, can be fucking overwhelming. But you know it hurt to see the people she called friends give up on her father so easily. She straightens her shoulders and storms off, you share a look with Norm before getting up to follow after her. 

You really should have known someone as determined as her wouldn’t so easily give up. When you do finally find her, she’s already got a pack on her shoulders and is convincing Chet into opening up the outer door for her. “Lucy,” you hiss, grabbing her elbow before they can make it to the elevator. “What are you doing?”

She gives you a pleading look, taking her arm out of your hold and glancing back at a nervous Chet. “I need to find him, if they’re not going to help me,” she took a deep breath and steadied herself. “I’ll go to the surface on my own.”

Your brows furrowed and you gave her a questioning look, a little disbelieving that she would actually do something like this. She’d always been such a rule follower, the prodigal poster girl of the vaults. You suppose everyone has their limits, even her. 

Still, you give her pack a doubtful glare and forcefully turn her around. She shouts your name in shock as you rip her pack open and dig through it. “What are you doing?” Chet demands. 

You sigh at the lack of provisions she’s grabbed. You know that Bud had created lesson plans to create an idyllic vision of what the surface would look like when everyone goes back up. But, seriously, one canteen of water and a single pack of hard boiled eggs. Only one tranquilizer gun in sight, she was never going to make it on her own. 

“Lucy,” you turn her back around and stare into her abnormally large eyes. She’s all naïveté and hope, the surface is going to fucking break her. “You’re completely unprepared.”

She gapes, points to her pack and stutters. “I packed eggs.”

“An egg. One singular pack of eggs, Lucy. There’s no way in hell that’s going to be enough.” You sigh, mentally doing gymnastics as you try and assure yourself that what you’re about to say is the right thing to do. You’ve never liked the vaults, they’re too suffocating and too strict. You can’t do anything with Betty always setting her evil eye on you. You’re constantly harassed for not yet being pregnant by Steph, and sometimes Lucy, you don’t love your husband. 

Besides running water and air conditioning, which are pretty fucking vital, you’ve got nothing for you here. It’s the only reason you say the stupidest fucking thing you’ve ever said in your life. “I’m coming with you.” She opens her mouth to protest but you cut her off with a glare. “This is what I trained for in vault 31, Lucy. To go to the surface. It’s not ready for us yet, and you’re not ready for what’s waiting out there for you.” You step back from her, glaring at Chet until his face turns red. “Don’t leave without me, Chet, I fucking mean it.”

Before either of them can say anything and you can talk yourself out of this, you make a run for the armory. The raiders had taken pretty much everything of value. But you knew the code to the safe where some of the better guns are held. As cruel as it is to take what little weapons your vault has left, you’re going to need them more on the surface than they are down here. 

You grab one of the emergency packs by the door, stuffing it full of all the rations and water you can get your hands on. Lucy had packed more cozily, a nice bedroll and amenities to keep her comfortable. You’re focused solely on packing what you know won’t be available on the surface. 

You put on a belt full of ammo and type in the code to the safe. Bud, in all his infinite wisdom, was not very good at remembering his passwords. 313233, and it pops open as the little green light goes off. You take two pistols, knowing it’s better to pack light, and turn to leave. 

Betty is standing there at the doorway, a knowing smile on her face. 

You hate the training. You know it’s essential, that it’s better to be over prepared than under, but you hate it. You’re always partnered up with Hank and Betty, seeing as they’re more favored than the others by Bud. Betty can’t stand you, she’s under the misguided impression that you somehow bribed your way into the position you have as one of Bud’s Buds. 

Hank is fine, but he’s a beast when it comes to your self defense drills. He never goes easy on you, always pummeling you down with enough ferocity to make you just want to call it quits. But you know that’s just because he doesn’t settle for anything other than the best. His whole life is Vault-Tec, he’ll never let anything in his career be lacking. Even training. 

Betty goes after you harshly for different reasons. She’s never liked you, not once. She already has to compete with Hank one day for the position of Overseer, she just sees you as more competition. Except, to her, you’re not deserving of the title. 

It doesn’t matter how many times you tell her you wouldn’t fight her for the role, she doesn’t believe you. She thinks your assuasion is just a manipulation ploy to get her to put down her guard. You won’t be in the vaults for another year, but it doesn’t matter. She’s ready to go now, ready to finally be a leader and no longer another rung on the corporate ladder. 

You don’t think she understands that, no matter what, there’s always going to be someone to answer to. You don’t know what Bud’s plan is, exactly, but he would never give up control over his project or give up seeing it come to fruition. Her hopes of being in charge will never come true, but she doesn’t care. You, honestly, feel like she just wants an excuse to not like you. 

You duck under her fist as she swings at you and sweep out her legs. She slams harshly against the mat, breath knocked out of her with a wheeze. Hank stands on the sidelines, sweat pouring down his back as he takes a swig from your water bottle. You glare at him but he just sends you a cheeky smile. 

You roll your eyes as you step back from Betty’s prone form. Around you the other’s are training. Either in duos or trios. Bud has signed out the Vault-Tec gym for this. All he has to say is that it’s for his experiment and he can get away with pretty much anything in the company. 

While you watch Stephanie execute a violent elbow strike on Darren, your attention is off of Betty. She pounces, sweeping her legs behind your own from where she lays on the floor. Your balance is thrown as you’re tossed back. A similar wheeze to her own forces its way out of you as you cough, grabbing your sternum and trying to get your breath back. 

She gets to her feet as you roll over onto your side, trying to catch your breath. Sweat beads down your temple, dripping down into your eyes and stinging. You lift your hand, using your teeth to rip the Velcro of your boxing glove open and tugging it off. You wipe at your face as she walks over you, staring down at you with venom in her glaze. 

“Can’t sleep your way into actual skills, can you?” You stare up at her, wide eyed and aghast. Hank looks away from your both, embarrassment clear on his face. She gets up from you and walks away, tapping Hank in. He steps towards you, offering you a hand up, but you swat it away. 

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

You know she’s not going to stop you. She’s never had any faith in your survival skills or your intelligence in general. You step towards her and she steps to the side, making a little room for you to squeeze past her through the doorway. She wouldn’t stop you, either, because you’re just one more person to get out of the way. 

Everyone knows that it’s only people from vault 31 who ever make it to be overseer. Steph can’t compete, she’s pregnant and half blind from grief and losing her actual eye. You’re the only person left to combat her claim to the title. 

Her eyes bore into yours, the wrinkles around them turning up as she offers you a sardonic smile. She might be old now, but you still see that sharp fire of hatred in them anytime she looks at you. You think her drive keeps her young. 

You’re surprised when she speaks. Three years here and she’s barely spared you a word, beyond what was required of her. “You should see him before you go. He’ll want to see you one last time.” Anyone else might think she’s talking about your husband, but you know better. 

You glance at the clock on the wall, you’ve already been gone ten minutes. You glance back at Betty and you realize she’s right. You’ve had a question you’ve wanted an answer to for three years, you don’t ask now and you might never get the chance again. 

You slip past her without a word, shoulder jolting hers harshly as you pass. She simply huffs, shaking her head and calling out, “Good luck!” As you head down the hall. You ignore her, how snide she is. You hate how easy it is for her to burrow herself under your skin. 

It’s easy to make your way to the place where the vaults intersect. Everyone’s busy with cleaning up. They’re getting rid of the bodies of the fallen, painting over the blood, and taking stock of what was stolen and damaged. No one pays any mind to you as you slip through the halls with a pack on your back. 

You use the code Bud had given you to get into the vault, silencing the alarms and glancing over your shoulder to double check no one was spying on you. The metal creaks loudly as it slowly rolls over the platform and slides open. You take a peek inside, peering around containers full of supplies and looking for a brain rolling around. 

It doesn’t take long for you to hear his wheels going over the metal grates of the floors. “Who’s there?” He shouts, not turning the corner yet. You know he’s trying to sound bigger than he is, to scare off any kids who might come snooping around the vaults. It’s happened before, you and Steph having to do damage control by dosing them with some drugs and telling everyone they were high. 

“It’s me!” You call back. 

He calls out your name eagerly, turning the corner too quick and his voice a little happier than usual. He’s not paying enough attention, though, and knocks into a broom. It goes crashing down on his dome with a loud bang and your face screws up as it blocks his way. His wheels bump into it and he bounces back reflexively, “What is this?” He mutters. 

You let him struggle for a little bit, slightly entertained by the sight of him repeatedly ramming into the handle of the broom. A brain on a fucking roomba. What had he been thinking?

When the sight of him struggling loses its novelty you walk forward and toss the broom out of the way. He sighs, “Thank you.” He rights himself, the brain now facing you. “What brings you here? I heard about the incident with the raiders but Betty assured me she had it under control.”

You know that if you told him right now that you doubted Betty’s competence, he would put you in charge. Or Steph. He would always listen to you over any of them, maybe that’s why she hated you so much. He would always favor you over her. Still, you can’t find it in yourself to be as petty as you’d like. You simply sigh, shaking your head even though he can’t see it. “No, it’s not that.”

“Okay,” he drags the word out, sounding unsure about why you bothered coming to see him. You briefly consider telling him the truth, that you’re leaving with Lucy and you won’t be coming back anytime soon. But you know he would only try to stop you. He’d use the same tranquilizer he used on the people who snooped and somehow get you back in a pod. 

Instead you ask him what’s been on your mind for three years. “Why’d you let me out?” You hear a low hum and realize it’s him sighing. He spins, the little brain inside wobbling at the movement. God, this whole thing still freaks you out. You hear his voice, can perfectly picture his face in your head. But he’s just gone. You never actually thought you would miss your boss, but you suppose you’ve lost so much that even Bud would be a comfort now. 

Two hundred and thirteen years. That’s how long it’s been. An innumerable amount of his Bud’s have been married off, led, had children, and died. You either should have been let out with the first batch or left in your pod until the world was ready for you. 

“I suppose, I’d always wanted to be there when you came out. But my body wasn’t ever going to survive this long. It was a foolish hope to be whole when you came out, to make sure you had a friend. When Hank said he needed someone for his son, I figured it was time to let you go. Norm’s nice, smart, his ambition reminds me of myself a little.” 

You hold back a scoff. Norm is kind and one of the most intelligent people you’ve ever met. But a potato has more ambition than he does. He can’t hold down a job to save his life. The only reason he gets away with it is because Hank is the overseer. 

“If I had to give you up, I knew Norm would be a good choice. And I guess, I waited because I didn’t want you to see me like this.” You glance down at the little robot and feel a twinge of guilt. You were hard on Bud, but all he’d ever done is look out for you. Even when you screwed up he covered your ass. The only reason you were still alive was because of him. 

You hum, the noise noncommittal and it makes Bud roll anxiously on his wheels. “Right. I’ve got to go, Bud.” You kneel down and pat the dome around his brain. You’re sure he can’t feel it, but his sensors will pick up the movement and he’ll hear it. It will have to be enough for now. “I’ll see you around.”

He wheels you back to the exit and before the door closes he calls out a “Don’t be shy, come visit more!” You don’t bother telling him you’re going to the surface. That’s what the whole point of this visit was. To try and glean some information about what would be waiting for you up there. But he would never let you go. You wave, rolling your eyes when you remember he can’t see it, and head back towards the elevator. 

Lucy is no longer waiting for you, and you suppose you should have seen this coming. But when you catch up with her, you’re going to wring her neck. You use your bypass code on the elevator and tap your foot impatiently as it goes up to the outside door. Messages from Vault-Tec play through the speaker and you huff with impatience. 

“Remember, surface, never. Vault, forever!” Well, that’s definitely a strong contradiction of everything these people have been preparing for. You glance up at the speaker and briefly consider just shooting it, but that would be a waste of ammo. 

When the elevator finally stops you run through the door before it even gets a chance to open all the way. You’re surprised to see Norm staring at you, his eyes are wide and his brows furrow in confusion. Then he glances behind you and shouts, “No!” You turn around, face screwing up when you realize you’ve let the elevator go back down. 

Betty might have given you the okay to leave, but she has to keep up appearances. She’ll be up here, after you all, in a few minutes. Norm looks back at you, the pack on your back, and sighs. “You’re leaving too.” It’s not a question, more of a confirmation about something he’s already suspected. 

You nod, you take a step forward, reaching out like you’ll hug him. But that’s never really been what you two do. So, instead, you offer him a grin and shrug, “Someone’s got to watch out for your sister.”

He gives you a resigned smile and nods, “I’m glad it's you.” You’re surprised by the sharp pang of loss that strikes through you. You have no disillusionment about what this trip entails. It’s likely that you’ll never see Norm again, or at the very least won’t for a very long time. You’re going to miss him, more than you want to admit. 

You place a hand on his shoulder and he reaches up to squeeze it before you both step away from each other awkwardly. You hear the distinct whir of metal and peer over the edge of the railing. The elevator's coming back up. Norm shares a concerned look with you and you turn back toward Lucy. 

She’s standing over a knocked out Chet, hand poised over the large red button on the control panel. “Shit,” you hiss. You leap onto the bridge before it starts to withdraw and rush towards her. She gives you an aggrieved look, but doesn’t protest you joining her. You nod and she presses down on the button. 

There’s a loud screech and sparks fly out at you as the unused metal gears slowly roll together. You and Lucy both share a look of apprehension, turning to face the door just as the other’s step out of the elevator. You hear them shouting at you, begging you to come back, but the sunlight’s already peaking through and you know there’s no going back now. 

You’d forgotten what real sunlight felt like, used to artificial warmth. The brightness of it is blinding and welcoming all at once. You want to cry, so close to the outside and still feeling so far. You look over at Lucy and she gives you a smile. You return as best as you can and step out with her.

You cover your eyes, flinching away from the sun and waiting as your eyes adjust to the light. It’s hotter than you remember. It feels like fire licking at your skin everywhere it touches. You’re sure it's because of the damage done to the environment when the nukes fell. Everything is going to be harsher now. 

You know that, and you’re still unprepared to be surrounded by nothing but sand and bones. When you’d gone in this had been a quiet section in a beautiful forest. Now everything was dust in the wind, no signs of civilization except for rubble long since buried.  

Lucy starts walking forward, not letting herself be phased by all the dead bodies around you. Most of the skeletons are more recent. It seems like they’d discovered the vault and had waited outside, hoping it would open up and let them in. Other bodies look like the ones discovered around Pompeii. Frozen in their last moments before death. 

Lucy calls your name and you rip your gaze away from the bones. They’re rattling in the wind, jaws clicking and taunting you as you run to catch up with her. “Look,” she points ahead and smiles warmly at you. 

Your gaze follows the line of her finger and you can’t help but laugh disbelievingly. The ocean, it’s miles away, but you can see it. See how vast it is and how far it still stretches. Maybe some things haven’t changed. 

It’s odd, traveling with Lucy. You have to remember which of your lies are truths to her. She gets confused by things like tumbleweeds. You have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from letting her know just how knowledgeable you are about the outside world. Everything that’s foreign to her is the past to you. 

She’s also endlessly optimistic. It’s nice, in the vault, when you can hold onto hope about the future. But outside, in this endless wasteland, you have to stop yourself from killing her. Everything is not hunky dory, but she refuses to accept that. 

You’re tired, hot, sweating through your suit and she’s just tugging on the straps of her backpack and grinning at all the new sights around her. You suppose it's because you saw the world when it was still beautiful. The vault is all she’s ever known. 

This world, to her, is beautiful. Because it’s new, she hasn’t yet seen the side of it that will make it lose its charm. The smells, the breeze, even the fucking sun, is a wonderful experience to her because she’s not mourning what was lost like you are. You see ruined buildings and miss what used to be there. She sees them and thinks that they’re exactly as they should be. 

You come across a house and Lucy tugs your sleeve, directing you towards it. It’s clear she wants to see inside, see what old homes used to look like. You’re doubtful about how well preserved it is but acquiesce anyway. 

To your own shock, most of the furniture is still intact. There’s sand up to your calves, but you can see how it’s meant to look. Shadows of the past poking through and telling you this used to be the home to a small, loving family. Your lips quirk up, despite yourself, charmed by the little slice of nostalgia. 

Until you reach the dining room. Lucy notices them first, a sharper intake of breath that has your head shooting up in alarm. But all she’s staring at is the skeletons of the family. You wince, coming up beside her and staring at the baby in the high chair. She reaches for a bottle on the table and you recognize the label. Vault-Tec Plan B, you don’t make it to your designated vault in time, might as well just end it now. 

You walk away from them, unable to stomach the sight of them anymore. That could have been you. If Barb had managed to get you before Bud, you would have been keeled over your kitchen table. Poisoned because death was better than living through the radiation of the fallout and the war that followed. 

Lucy is hot on your heels, rattled by the sight of the poison. You can tell she’s trying to put together why Vault-Tec would make something like that, but you don’t want her to linger on the thought for long. If she starts questioning things, eventually signs are going to point towards you. 

“It’s getting dark,” you point out, looking up at the sun sinking behind the horizon. Even its disappearance doesn’t provide much relief. The heat is trapped in the sand, still wafting up towards your face. “We’ll camp here tonight.”

Lucy pulls off her pack, “Okey dokey,” and grins at you, collecting sticks for a fire. You want to keep watch, knowing she won’t be able to, but the exhaustion of the day is taking its toll. You’re asleep before your head even hits the ground. 

Lucy shakes you awake in the dead of night, eyes frantic and face paled. You shoot up, hand already on your pistol but she shakes her head, pointing to the retreating form of a man. What the hell did you sleep through?

“What happened?” You demand, voice groggy. 

She just shakes her head, “The people up here are weird.” You glance back at the man, noticing something shining on his neck and motion towards her bedroll. 

“I’ll keep watch, get back to sleep.”

She gives you a concerned look, probably taking in the dark circles under your eyes. “Are you sure?” You nod and after a minute she finally listens and lays back down. Her body stays tensed for a little while as she struggles to sleep. You only put the fire out once you’re sure she’s no longer awake. 

You don’t need anyone else finding you both. You might be good with a gun, but you doubt you could take on more than two people. You’re wide awake now, and the noises that echo through the dark around you are helping you stay that way. You hear something large skittering and chirping in the bushes beyond the house. 

You shift uncomfortably against the log you’re resting on, finger poised on the trigger and hand trembling from anticipation. Despite your worries, nothing else finds you that night. By the time the sun rises you’re so on edge you’re practically shaking. You shake Lucy awake just as dawn breaks, anxious from staying in the same place for too long. 

She tries to swat you off, hands slapping weakly against your arms in protest. You sigh and roll your eyes, grabbing her by the collar of her suit and yanking her up. Her eyes fly open and you nod to her pack. “We need to leave, pack up.” She nods, blearily following your command and shouldering her pack again. 

By noon, you’ve given up hope of ever finding any semblance of civilization. You let out a loud groan, taking a break and leaning over. Lucy stands over you, she tugs out her canteen and offers you a sip. You shake your head, knocking her hand away and straighten up. 

You’d trained for this, you remind yourself. This was the whole point of Bud’s program, acclimating and adapting to difficult situations. Still, you hadn’t expected it to be so fucking hot. You and Lucy keep moving and an hour later you meet your first wastelander. 

Loud clanging echoes through the vast desert. Lucy puts a hand over her eyes, glaring against the sun and smiling when she sees a man in what looks like a diaper standing outside his house. She tugs out her gun, running towards him and waving. 

You keep your hand on your pistol, eyeing him warily. “Hi!” She calls out cheerily. “Hi, excuse me, can I approach?” 

He frowns at her, eyeing her weapon warily. “Ain’t got any money. Or food. No water neither.”

She looks down at her gun and shakes her head, tucking it back in her belt. “That’s okay, I just want to ask you for some directions.”

His gaze goes back to you, the pistol in your hand, and he looks back at Lucy. “What about her?”

Lucy turns around, nodding towards the gun and motioning for you to put it back. You frown at her and shake your head, mouthing no. She huffs, the both of you silently arguing while the man watches on, hand scratching the back of his diaper. Eventually, she gives up, simply waving you away while she deals with him. 

You walk ahead of the house, breath catching in your throat when you see a throng of trees past the crest of the hill. Trees, gorgeous and green and so very different from the sand you’ve seen for the past two days. You’d given up on any hope that they still existed, but here they were. You should have known better, nature would always find a way to triumph over the folly of men. 

Lucy comes up behind you, frowning as she approaches. You glance over at her, the wonder of the forest leaving you slightly when you glance at her pack. “What happened to your water?”

She points behind you both at the man still watching you. He waves and you both offer awkward ones back. “He drank it.”

You shoot her a surprised look, “What, how?”

She sighs and shrugs, “I offered him some.”

Your face falls and you stare at her blankly. You shouldn’t even be surprised. “Rule number one, Lucy, don’t offer anyone shit.” She gapes at you, she always did hate you cussing. But you weren’t in the vaults anymore. There were no more decency rules to follow for the sake of your fellow vault dwellers. The sooner she figured that out, the better.

You threw an arm over her shoulder, tugging her into your side and pointing up ahead. “Look, isn’t it amazing?”

She hums, smiling at the sight of the trees. “Yep! And that’s where he said we need to go.” She starts forward, slipping out from under your arm, and you follow after her, tucking your gun back in your pants. 

“What did he tell you?”

She glances over her shoulder, “That if anyone was going to come through here, they would be going to Filly.”

You sigh, eyes set on the trees and you feel your first real sense of determination. To Filly, you thought, wondering what exactly would be waiting there for you. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

All of my dividers are the creation of @ saradika-graphics

Crash of Worlds

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Cooper Howard x fem!reader, The Ghoul x fem!reader A/N: After this there’s gonna be more canon divergence - this one’s short (rope divider done by @saradika-graphics , cowboy hat/revolvers done by @firefly-graphics) Summary: You’d been expecting everything to be different, people, to be different. But not like this. Not to such an extreme extent. Maybe the vault had softened you more than you’d have liked but there was nothing to do about it now.

The green canopy of the forest provides a welcome relief from the heat. You and Lucy follow the signs pointing the way to Filly. You hear it before you ever get to see it. There’s a distant sound of yelling and the murmur of people. It has your heart clenching in your chest. 

You’re outside, breathing in real air, not oxygen from tanks. You can feel the breeze in your hair and hear people. It’s all you wanted for three years. Bud prepared you for a lot. But he didn’t prepare you for just how jarring it is to wake up and suddenly everything you’ve ever known is gone. You don’t feel the years you’ve been asleep. It was like it happened yesterday. 

But you’ve had three years to come to peace with what had happened. You can’t let yourself get wrapped up in this feeling of nostalgia. The raiders that came down to the vault were proof enough that the people you’re going to meet up here aren’t going to be anywhere near friendly. You know this world has turned into dog-eat-dog, Lucy doesn’t yet, though. 

She walks towards a large grove of abandoned cars. The paint has flaked off and the glass smashed in, but they’re not in horrible condition for being two hundred odd years old. You're distracted by the convertible she stands next to and you gasp. 

You rush forward, hand smoothing over the hood and grinning at the familiar feel. “I-”

You cut yourself off abruptly and Lucy looks over at you, a curious smile on her face. “What is it?”

You shake your head, “Nothing. Just excited to see civilization again.” You give her a terse smile, hoping she doesn’t smell the lie. You’d almost said that it was exactly like your old car. But that would have opened up a can of worms you weren’t ready for. 

She groans, linking her arm through yours and nodding. “I know, me too. The surface is definitely not what I was expecting.”

You sigh, glancing back at the car before stepping towards Filly. “Yeah, me either.” 

The noise reaches a crescendo as you finally manage to make your way into the market. There’s still signs directing you further through the woods so you figure this must not be Filly yet. Probably just a little place where people tried to peddle junk. 

A man lurches out at you holding out a kebab and grinning widely. “DOG MEAT!” You jump back in shock as he screams in your face. His eyes are unseeing as he waves the kebab around. “GET YOUR DOGMEAT HERE!” 

“Oh, what the fuck?” You mutter, you didn’t mean dog-eat-dog literally. You notice you and Lucy getting odd looks and you finally realize just how much the two of you stand out. In comparison, you're both well groomed and much cleaner than anyone here. 

Not only that but you’ve got the stupid Pip-Boy’s on your arm and vault suits on. You’re walking advertisements of “Come rob me!” You steer Lucy further through the market, narrowly avoiding a lizard meat stall and dragging her towards a tunnel at the end of the path. Filly’s just beyond and you shove her through the opening, eager to get somewhere where you might be able to find something useful. 

You seperate with the promise to meet back up in the middle of the town square. You’re going to look for something to change into and she’ll find some information on her father. Should be easy enough. 

He’s not supposed to be here. He’d gotten himself and all of his kind banned a long time ago. An impressive feat, considering how lawless Filly is. But no one’s going to say anything to him, no one ever has before. 

Any other ghoul and they would have been dragged right back out before they could even put a foot through the tunnel. But he’s not any ghoul, he’s the ghoul. And no one in their right mind is going to be the one to start a fight they’ve got no fucking hope of winning. 

He rolls the empty vial of RadAway around in his hand, hat tipped down as he waits for his mark to show up. Ma June, cantankerous old bitch that she is, always has good supplies. But she doesn’t sell to ghouls, and if he didn’t need her alive right now he would have shot her for turning him away. She’s a well known fence for fugitives and bounties. If his mark is going to show up anywhere, it’s going to be right here. 

Most of the people who try their hand at bounty hunting do it for the experience. They get bored, not that he can fucking blame them. After a while staring at nothing but sand and chickens makes a man go a little crazy. They don’t understand that it’s all a waiting game. 

Sometimes it’s an exhilarating chase, like a predator tracking down its prey. But more often than not he’s just waiting for a slip up. A mistake from whoever has a price on their head is usually what lands them in his hands. And the second this man decided to use Ma June as a transport was when he made his mistake. Everyone knows that Barv can’t keep her mouth shut for shit. 

When someone decides Ma June can help them, everyone knows where they are. It’s a big bounty, enough to keep anyone with a normal life cycle sated for the rest of their life. For him, it’s all about the hunt. The wait, that look in their eyes when they realize they're trapped and there’s nowhere left for them to turn. He loves it when he’s got them cornered. 

There’s a desperation to them that makes the capture all the more sweeter.  

There’s two bright flashes of blue against the otherwise dreary countenance of Filly. He doesn’t look up much, still trying not to draw too much attention to himself. He sees one, brown hair and wide eyed as she takes in the sights. Fucking vaulties. 

It’s been a while since he’s taken one of their bounties. Their tech was pretty valuable among surface dwellers and when one was spotted, which was rare, there was usually a good price on their head. He can only catch the back of the other one, her face blocked by a conveniently placed support beam next to him. 

She stops by the clothing stall, waving her friend along and speaking to the woman who runs the booth. Good fucking luck to her. There was no haggling with that woman and her prices were fucking ridiculous. He wonders how long it will be until he sees those two on the poster in some bar somewhere. He’s sure when the time comes, he’ll enjoy taking them too. 

His gaze goes back to Ma June’s shop, interest already waned in the rare vault dweller. They were never all that fun. Never had any good information and always had a stick up their ass about morals and being a “good” person. 

Finally, his mark turns up. Blind to the danger lurking behind him. 

You’re in a really shitty spot when the fighting starts. You’re overwhelmed by everything around you. Freaks in wacky ass clothes peddling their mutated animals and fucking teeth. Teeth. 

Teeth and bottle caps, that’s the currency now. Who decided that bottle caps were a good idea? Or teeth for that matter. You’ve only got so many of them. You don’t even want to think about what they’re getting used for.

The woman in front of you only has four of her own left and she’s demanding three of yours for a shirt. You’re not well versed in the economy of the wasteland, but even you’re sure that three teeth is a ridiculous ask. From the way people keep glaring at you as they walk by, you’re sure that she thinks because you’re from a vault you’re going to be gullible. 

You’re too caught up in your quickly escalating argument to realize what’s happening until it’s too late. A man stands in the center of the square, his back to you. You can tell from your view that he’s pretty badly burned, the skin around his neck and skull warped and twisted. 

He’s yelling about a bounty and your head tilts in confusion. There’s something to the lilt of that accent that sounds familiar. You take a step forward, abandoning the clothing stall and trying to place how you know him. It’s impossible, really, that anyone recognizable would still be alive. But maybe someone else got out of a vault and made it to the surface. If they did, it clearly wasn’t unscathed. 

It’s only when he pulls out his gun that you realize Lucy is standing in front of him, with the man that bothered her last night. You want to call out her name, try and catch her eye, but the last thing you need is him pointing that gun at you. You jump back in shock as he shoots the man’s foot off, eyes widening, and feet scrambling backwards. 

The woman in the clothing stall hisses, “Fucking ghoul,” and makes a run for it. You watch her go, finally realizing just how empty the square is now. Everyone has left, all of them terrified by the man in black. Your eyes dart between him and the stall. 

She’s gone, and you need clothes. You’ll deal with Lucy’s scolding later. You leap over the counter of the stall and begin to rifle through the woman’s stock. Stuffing any spare clothes you think will fit into your pack and just because she was such a horrid bitch, you steal her bag of caps too. 

The crazy old lady by the shop screams out a reward for anyone who manages to kill the man in front of you. When the guns start going off you realize just how screwed you are. You’re in the middle of the town square. Granted, you are blocked by the clothing stall, but these bullets they’re using aren’t ordinary. 

They’re getting holes blown clean through their chest and the buildings around them are damn near exploding from the impact. The measly little wooden stall isn’t going to be any sort of decent cover against them. 

You risk another look over the counter, hoping to find a clear path to Lucy or at least some better cover. He’s finally turned around now and you can get a half decent glance at his side profile. There’s nothing truly recognizable about him, just familiar. It’s hard to really tell anything about him when he doesn’t have a nose. 

You watch with wide eyes and a disbelieving expression as he takes three shots to the chest like it’s nothing. He keeps chewing on his tomatoes and slowly finding cover to reload. A ghoul. Hank and Betty had told you and the other’s about them. People poisoned by radiation. 

Most of them turn feral, but those who can find the right chems live a lot longer than any normal human should. They heal nearly immediately and are almost invulnerable to anything except their own disease. Considering how quick on the draw this guy is, no one has any real hope of taking him down. 

With the shooting redirected you leap out from behind the counter and rush towards the shop. But something stops you before you reach the door. You don’t know what it is, what connects in your brain that has you so harshly coming to a stop. 

You whirl around, ignoring the way Lucy calls out your name. He’s back out from his cover now. He aims, grinning and laughing as he manages to get two people with one bullet. Carnage is all around you. Blood flying through the air, surrounded by blood and guts. The relatively peaceful downtown has been littered with dead. 

And in the middle of it all stands him. You have to be wrong. There’s no fucking way he’s standing in front of you. You take a step forward and his head whips towards you. The rest of him isn’t recognizable, but you would know those eyes anywhere. 

His eyes widen with surprise and you feel your gut drop to your feet. This can’t be him. There’s no way. He’s slaughtering these people like it’s nothing. The man you knew could never be so casual about this. Then again, the relationship you’d had was built on lies. Maybe you’d never really known him. 

Before you can process the anger in his face you’re being jerked to the side. Lucy pants as she drags you into the shop and you look over your shoulder, shocked to find a bullet where you’d just been standing. You catch his eye, see the smoke coming from the barrel of his gun and realize he’d tried to fucking shoot you.

Shit, maybe it is him. He had always had a bad temper and a good aim. 

You can feel his eyes, tracking you even as you disappear behind the walls of the shop. You and Lucy risk a peek out of the shop when you hear something like an explosion. You gape as a power suit lands in front of him. What twisted ass blast to the past have you just been sent to?

How the fuck was Cooper Howard, ghoulified, and a power suit both in the same area? 

You had to be dreaming. There was no way this was happening. But it was, and whoever was in charge of that suit had no idea what they were doing. He’s ducking under their swinging metal arms, taunting them and drawing out the fight. He could end this now, you both know where the weakness is. 

Hell, you could end this fight right now. But you don’t see the need to kill the Knight when it’s clear he’s trying to protect you and Lucy. “We need to get him,” Lucy points frantically to the man on the ground. He’s not really moving, just clutching the bloody nub where his foot used to be and looking astonished at the blood around him. 

“This is really stupid,” you hiss as you both start forward and wrap an arm around one of his own. You don’t have much time to process what happens next. 

“Watch out!” The knight barrels towards you both. He wraps his arms around Lucy and goes flying into a building. You jump back at the explosion of wood and metal flying down around you. The ghoul has his gun pointed at them both. He’d clearly been trying to snipe you both, get you away from the man on the ground. 

Well, he could fucking have him. You drop the man to the ground and he grunts as you make a run for it. A coward’s move, the same one you admonished Norm for. But, you’re a fucking hypocrite, so what? Right now, you’d really just like to survive this gun fight unscathed. 

Something lands near your foot and you jump, realizing it’s a bullet. You glance up and the ghoul is laughing at you, full on belly laughing as he shoots around you. You realize with a start that he’s playing with you. Taunting you like a man who’s got all the time in the world. But you can’t stop running. If you stop, those bullets are going to catch up with you. 

You keep going, legs pumping and heart racing as you’re separated more and more from Lucy. The mission, the whole reason you came up to the surface, is lost on you. You can only focus on one thing, surviving. You keep running, through alleyways and around buildings until you’re back in the woods. The whole time his laughter is following you. 

The sharp noise of something whistling through the air reaches your ears and then something snaps against you. You glance down, only a moment to process the rope over your arms before he’s dragging you back. Your head hits the ground with a harsh snap, the motion slamming your teeth together and nearly biting off the tip of your tongue. 

You groan in dazed pain and then he’s slowly dragging you back. One sharp tug after another, rocks ripping at your suit and scalp, hair ripped out underneath your back. Until, finally, he’s peering over you, face upside down and lips twisted up into a strained smile. 

“Well, there you are, sweetheart.”

end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

So I stumbled onto your account and I have read your fics on Howard Cooper.

And. Let. Me. Tell. You.

I'm in fucking love with how you write!

It's like chef's kiss good!

I love aggressive the compliments I get from anon’s are. It’s never really sweet mushy stuff it’s always “I love your writing -accept the compliment (or else) 🔫😃”

Which I think is hilarious. I love compliments like these. I’m glad you found my account and glad you enjoy my writing for Cooper ♥️

Ultraviolence

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Cooper Howard x fem!reader, The Ghoul x fem!reader A/N: Canon timeline? We don’t know her Summary: He’s not the man you remember. Maybe you’d never actually known who that man was. It doesn’t matter, you need to get away from him before he kills you or does worse.

Bud sits at the head of the table. You don’t know how he managed to get this room for your meeting. Most of the time it’s only used for potential investors or the higher ups. But you know he likes to use it because it makes him feel powerful to sit in the big chair. 

You sit beside him, Hank’s on the other side of him, all of the higher ranking Buds are. It ranges from junior execs to lower ranking administrative assistants. He wants to create the next few generations of super managers and this is who he’s starting with.

You met him when you were working with his company creating the power suits. You were the one that brought the concerns about the defects to him. And because you’d saved him from years of lawsuits and dropping stocks by getting him the hell out of there, he’d taken you on as his personal assistant. A better pay, but not a better job. 

When Vault-Tec had agreed to this plan of his for his triple set of vaults, he’d kept you as his personal right hand. But that doesn’t matter to the rest of the little corporate worker bees. They don’t think you earned your place here. And they think you’re a threat to their positions. 

You’d been under the misguided belief that it was common knowledge that Bud wasn’t truly grooming you to take over the vaults. He likes you and enjoys working with you. Squeezing you into this program was a favor and a way to keep you safe in the fallout. He only drags you to these meetings to keep a good cover as to why you’re supposedly a valuable asset. None of its real.

These people don’t respect you. They’re all buying into a baseless rumor that you slept your way here. Not true, ever. If you weren’t so inclined to saving your own ass you might even say that you would prefer the nuclear war zone to Bud’s bed. But honestly, those thirty seconds with him would probably be worth it to have a place in the promised land. 

At the very least, he’s not letting you go into this unprepared. He’s got you in the same training regime as the rest. The same classes on leadership during tumultuous and trying times. If you are one of the lucky few who gets to see the surface, you won’t be unprepared. 

The meeting has devolved from lessons on proper management to discussions on other vaults. “I heard in vault eleven they’re doing self elected sacrifices.”

You scoff, spinning a pen idly on the table before you and reclining lazily in your seat. “That’s ridiculous,” you object, “what’s the point?”

Steph shrugs and shakes her head, blonde curls idly bobbing by her ears. “I don’t know. I think a lot of the experiments are just for the sick satisfaction of the investors.” Everyone turns to Bud, wanting to see if he would divulge any information. 

He entertained you guys by letting you speculate on what the vaults might be, but he was pretty adamant on not sharing investor secrets. Instead of answering he smiles, “A hypothetical for you.” You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes. He might be kinder to you, but you had to show him the same respect everyone else did. You didn’t want to risk undermining him just because he didn’t have as strong a backbone when it came to you. 

Besides, you know he doesn’t like talking about the darker side of the vaults. He always tenses up when anyone mentions a particularly grisly experiment. It’s clear that what Vault-Tec is doing is evil. But what the investors are planning is even worse. At least Bud just wants to breed a bunch of corporate workers, some of these people are talking about killing kids and only letting the smartest reach adulthood. Sometimes, Bud doesn’t like to face the harsh reality of the company he endorses so eagerly.

“Betty,” his eyes scan the table and everyone perks up, hoping for an opportunity to prove themself. His eyes land on you and his face lights up. You try to shake your head subtly at him but he’s already speaking your name with a smile. 

These hypotheticals are tests, see who has the better solution to a vault conflict. It’s an unspoken rule that whoever has the right answer is more likely to be put in a position of power rather than just be a breeder. With Betty it’s lose-lose. You let her win and everyone here just further confirms that you don’t have what it takes. You win and the divide between you both just gets larger. 

You feel the eyes of everyone on you and try to ignore them by continuing to roll the pen against the table, blocking out their stares. 

“One of us gets off on the wrong foot with their new partner from the breeding vaults. What do you do?”

Betty speaks up quickly, “We reassign,” she blurts out, all confidence and smugness as she looks over at you. “If they don’t get along, they can’t facilitate the proper environment for a child. It’s best to just reassign them to another partner.”

Bud hums, jotting something down on his notepad and looks at you. He says your name, prompting you to speak. “Once a partner’s assigned, there’s no going back. It’s up to the overseer to facilitate conversation between the two and find the root of the problem. It’s up to us,” you look at your peers and grin, “to be better than them. If we can’t get along with our partner it’s a poor reflection on us and Bud. Ultimately, it’s our job to fix the issue with conversation and if that doesn’t work, well,” you smile at Bud, “a little extra Calmex in their Sugar Bombs never hurts.”

Betty’s face falls as Bud smiles at you in return and you know you’ve won. “Correct! We’re meant to be raising the best of the best for our future. That means that petty squabbles get left behind. And I need strong leaders.” 

Bud grows serious, staring down the table at you all. “One’s who aren’t afraid of compromising their principles.”

He yanks her to her feet, fisting his hand in the collar of her blue suit dragging her up harshly. Her eyes widen with shock, looking him up and down. “Cooper?” She shakes her head like she’s trying to reset it and his mouth turns down into a frown. Her mouth flops open and closed obnoxiously. “I thought when I saw you that I was going insane. That I’d finally had a heat stroke. But it’s really you isn’t it?” 

She reaches forward like she’s going to touch him and he steps back with a harsh scoff. There’s a distant sort of wonder to her voice that has him gritting his teeth. Few things have kept him going these past two hundred odd years. Two of the main motivators; spite and hate. And he holds a hell of a lot for her. 

“In the flesh,” he grins, only getting angrier when she looks at his yellowed teeth with disgust. Not everyone had the luxury of hiding out in the vaults like a fucking coward. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” The question is blunt, no class or grace about it. She’s clearly caught off guard by the sight of him. He’s sure it's jarring to see the man who she’d left for dead still alive. Frankly, he’s only getting more pissed off by her reaction. 

He honestly thought that she was dead. He figured after she’d screwed the pooch with him that they’d gotten rid of her. And at one point, the thought of her death had saddened him slightly. They’d been close, about to breach something that would have ruined him as a married man and compromised his morals. But she’d lied to him and he was long past sadness, the only thing he felt now was a stark disappointment that she was still fucking breathing. 

“Nuclear fallout happened.” He growled, grabbing her by the rope looped around her waist and yanking her forward. She yelped, stumbling into his chest and trying to tug herself back from him. “Don’t you remember? It was your people who pushed the button.”

She smirks, a cruel tilt to her lips that makes him want to beat her to the ground. “If I remember correctly, it was your wife who pushed the button.”

He looks her up and down. There’s a burning rage building in him, this overwhelming desire to just take out his gun and riddle her pretty body with bullets. He’s damn near desperate to see what her blood looks like painting the forest floor. But he has to have patience, he’s got use for her yet. 

He lifts the rope up, smiling at the relieved look on her face, before drawing it around her neck and tightening it. She wheezes, hands shooting up to try and loosen it. He tuts, patronizing, grabbing her wrists harshly and yanking her forward so he can tie those too. She tries to say something, he doesn’t care what, but all that comes out is a strangled gasp for air. 

He tugs on the rope a few times, smiling at the way she winces at the pull, before dragging her through the forest. He’d love to just get this over with here and be done with her. But he needs to get away from Filly before the Knight calls for backup from the brotherhood. They’re not exactly big fans of him and he doesn’t need any more trouble than he’s already got. 

With her in his grasp, he forgets all about the bounty left behind in Filly. And the girl who’d been with her. 

“Is it true?” Hank runs in front of you, stopping you from going any further. You let out a rough sigh, glaring at him. 

“Is what?” You snap, moving around him and continuing towards the elevator. You’re going to be late meeting Bud at the studio if Hank decides he feels like being chatty today. You don’t want to make a bad first impression with your new boss. 

You don’t resent the idea of being an assistant as much as you thought you would. You were Bud’s assistant, but he didn’t really count. He wasn’t much of a boss and the tasks he had for you were menial. Most of your time was taken up by your training anyway. The only part bothering you about all this was the worry that your new boss might not be very agreeable.

He catches up with you, looking incredibly excited. “Bud’s really assigning you to Cooper Howard?” You huff out a laugh, nearly forgetting that Hank is just as smitten with Cooper as Bud is. Your heels clack against the tile as he keeps stride with you. You stop in front of the elevator, glancing over at him while you click the button. 

It opens quickly and you both step inside, even though you know he doesn’t need to actually use it. He fiddles with his tie, doing more damage than good. You roll your eyes and step forward, straightening it out for him. “Yes,” you mutter, fixing the knot. “I’m working with Mr. Howard from now on. Barbara thinks I’m expendable enough to be assigned to him.”

Hank glances down at you, patting your hand as you step back. “You’re not expendable,” he tries to reassure. 

You give him a grateful smile and shrug. “That’s sweet, Hank, but we both know I am. I don’t have any qualms about it. I’m just hoping he’s not one of those Hollywood assholes who thinks everyone needs to worship the ground he walks on.”

Hank shakes his head, expression in vehement disagreement. “No way, he’s my idol. Have you seen him in A Man and His Dog? Oh, and that line of his ‘feo, fuerte y formal.’” You blow out a long breath, idly clicking the first level button again, hoping it might speed this up. Hank chuckles, “Sorry, I’ve been talking Betty’s ear off about this all week. I almost wish Bud had assigned me to him.”

You don’t bother with telling him that he’s sorely lacking the assets that make you so well suited for the job. The elevator stops, doors slowly sliding open and you all but leap out of it. “You’ve got more important things to do here, Hank. I’ll try and get you an autograph,” he lights up at this. 

“Trust me,” you turn to look at him, giving him a slight smile. “Never meet your heroes.”

You’re tied up to a tree, the rope around your neck still wrapped around his fist. You eye it warily, waiting for him to yank on it again. He keeps doing that, randomly tugging on it and causing the burns around your neck to worsen. “I’ve got ways of making you speak, darling. You’re only making this worse for yourself.”

You glare at him, undeterred by his ‘torture.’ “You know another way of making someone talk?” His head tilts in question and you scoff, “Fucking asking a question.” He’s had you here for you don’t even know how long. Blood is steadily starting to form around the burns on your neck. Everytime you inhale it feels like you’re brushing an exposed nerve. And through all of this, he hasn’t asked you one damn thing. 

He just keeps tugging that goddamn rope and giving you this expectant look like you’re meant to read his mind. He’s already rifled through your bag, stolen your guns, and dropped all of your supplies onto the forest floor. You don’t know what he’s looking for but clearly it wasn’t in there. Or he’s just being a dick. 

This was not at all how you thought your reunion with him was going to go. One, because you’d never thought there would be a reunion. And, two, you don’t remember him being such a sadistic asshole. Then again, if he’s been out here as long as you think he has, you’re lucky he’s not worse. 

You still can’t believe it, that he’s alive. Even if he is a ghoul now, it’s a miracle your paths ever crossed. Well, maybe a curse, karmic justice on your part. He leans forward, elbows propped up on his knees and you find yourself leaning in to meet him. He grins, the curl of his lips cruel and lacking any sort of warmth. It’s enough to have you pressing your back against the trunk of the tree again. 

He doesn’t appreciate that, though, and tugs you forward once more. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, but you can’t help it. You hiss in pain, burning tears building up on the rim of your eyelids as you glare at him. “How’s this, sweetheart, where’s my fucking family?” The last two words are bordering on a shout, full of an anger you’ve never heard from him before. 

It’s enough to cause you to flinch back in surprise. Then, you laugh. “Family?” You question, tone sarcastic and bordering on cruel, “What fucking family?” The noise grates further on his nerves and the look on his face causes you to laugh harder. He darts forward, fast as a whip, and grabs your throat, shoving you back against the tree. 

You grin up at him, ignoring how much the leather of his glove hurts the raw skin on your neck. “I don’t know. How would I?”

He grins, “You were Buck’s favorite little cocksucker weren’t you?”

You scoff, lips curling down in disgust. “Bud,” you spit out, not helping your case. “And that was above my fucking pay grade jackass.” 

God, didn’t you used to love him? Wasn’t that the whole reason your relationship never worked with your husband? You’re really not feeling any of the love right now. Apparently, neither is he, his hand tightens to the point your vision turns black. Shadows start to crawl into the corners of your eyes and you can feel them starting to roll. Your limbs flail out in a discoordinated panic as air becomes harder to come by. 

After a minute he finally releases you, backing off and sitting back down on the log across from you. You fall forward, hands clawing at your throat as you take in deep gasping breaths. Your heart beats so violently inside your throat that you worry it’s going to rip through the skin. 

You struggle to get upright again, still panting when you finally look at him again. He’s no longer smiling, just staring blankly at you while he waits for you to get it together. “So,” you start, voice a rough croak that has you gritting your teeth at the sound. “Still pining after Barb, huh?” His eye twitches briefly at her name but he doesn’t react otherwise. “You know,” your hands lower towards your boots but he doesn’t catch the movement. “From what I remember she was a fucking bitch. Maybe you should just move on, I heard she did, real quick.”

You’re goading him, trying to get him angry again. You’re not sure it works until he lunges at you. Your lips pull up in a cruel grin, hands shooting out before he can catch onto what you’re doing. Your knife, the one you keep strapped to your boot, is buried in his throat. You jerk the rope out of his hand as blood dribbles over his lips. His eyes are wide with shock as you smile up at him. You rip the knife out, mouth closed against the arterial spray that follows. 

You don’t have time to grab your bag or untie your wrists. Ghouls heal fast, faster than you’d like. You leap off the log, over his body, and take off through the forest. You’re careful not to trip, you’ve still got your knife in your hand and you don’t heal nearly as fast as him. All you hear is the gurgle of death as he chokes on his own blood, but the sound quickly fades the further you go. 

You risk a glance at your wrist, trying to get a better look at the map on your Pip-Boy but there’s no point. You won’t be able to find Lucy or a way out of this right now. The best you can do is run and hope you manage to stumble across her. 

You should have planned this out better. You should have done this in a way where you could have taken your supplies with you. As it was, you don’t think he was going to present many chances to you. You genuinely know nothing about where Barb was. It truly was above your pay grade and it was information she never wanted to share with you. You have a feeling she’d caught on to how you felt about her husband and wanted you as far from him as possible. 

Without this information to offer him, you were useless. There was clearly no love lost with him and you doubted he would keep you around much longer. You just needed to get out before he decided he really did believe that you had nothing to offer. 

“How do you like it?”

You glance up at Bud and give him a terse smile, he eagerly waits for your answer. You finish chewing and force down the driest piece of chicken you’ve ever had the misfortune of eating. “It’s good, Bud. Did you,” you hesitate to finish, worry it will come out bitchier than you mean it to. “Did you make it?” You stumble over the words, voice rising in pitch to try and keep the dislike out of your voice. 

He nods, sawing so hard into his own piece that the table shakes slightly. “Yep,” he pops the ‘P’ with a proud smile directed at you. He dips the chicken into some ketchup and you watch in awe as he pops it in his mouth. He seems completely unbothered by the lack of flavor and juices. This man should never be allowed in the kitchen again. 

Bud clears his throat and you brace yourself. It’s not uncommon for you to be at his place for dinner. Normally, the food has been cooked by a professional, but he never invites you over without a reason. You’ve been wondering why you’re here since you arrived. 

He placed his fork down on his plate and leaned back in his chair. He gives you a smile that’s meant to be disarming but only puts you further on your guard. Bud might be able to hide behind his goofy grin and facade of incompetence, but you see what really lurks under the surface. 

He’s just as greedy as everyone else in Vault-Tec. For fuck’s sake, he’s planning to have two vaults of people that are just there to be bred. He wants to create an army of micro-managers to efficiently rule the world. He would do anything to carve out a place for himself in the future. To make a name for himself. And just like any other man he wants his name to have weight, meaning, power. 

It’s what this whole experiment of his comes down to. A hierarchy of power that all leads back to him. The people in the two vaults, the cattle as Bud’s Buds have come to call them, answer to their overseers. The overseers appear to have final say in all decisions, but it truly all loops back to Bud. He’s created a world for himself where he is almighty, a practical god to those in the vaults. They’ll never even know that every decision they make, every happiness or low point they experience, has all been orchestrated by him. 

Him being Bud, the man with the least intimidating persona you’ve ever met. Maybe that’s how he’s made it so far. Everyone underestimates an idiot. 

“How has it been going with Cooper?” Even now there’s a pitch to his voice that betrays his excitement every time he mentions Mr. Howard. You know Mr. Howard wants you to call him Cooper, or, as he’s insisted, Coop. You can’t do it, though, everytime you call him by his first name you fall deeper into your crush. 

You can’t be blamed for it. You spend everyday with him, you’re by his side more often than you’re on your own. Anyone in close proximity to him that often would start to fall for him too. You’ve been trying to convince yourself it’s just guilt presenting in odd ways but you know that’s bullshit. You’re slowly falling for him and you feel awful about it. 

Everyday you’re getting closer to just blurting out the truth. But you know the consequences of that. Not only will Barb get rid of you, most likely kill you to keep Vault-Tec’s secrets, you’ll be screwing over Mr. Howard. If he learns about what his wife is up to, the sickness that lurks behind that pearly smile, he’ll never forgive her. He can kiss his place in the vaults goodbye. You’d be condemning the both of you to death. 

You need to rid yourself of this unfortunate crush. There are at least one hundred and twenty two vaults, and those are only the ones you know about. Who knows how many the higher ups are keeping from the rest of you? You’ll never see him again after this and you need to come to terms with that. 

“He hasn’t been asking me much about the company. I think he’s assuaged for now, I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this up, though.”

Bud sets you with a stern glare and you straighten up, face falling into a mask of indifference. “Why’s that?” The tone of his voice tells you he knows exactly why you’re struggling. But he wants you to deny it, to prove him wrong. You know Bud likes to look out for you, but he isn’t just flippantly providing you with a place in the world. 

This whole thing with Cooper is one big test. He only wants those who aren’t afraid of getting their hands dirty. Leadership requires sacrifice and sometimes doing things you don’t want to do. 

You shrug, “He’s a bit of a wildcard. Not as easily malleable as Barb made him out to be. I think she underestimates him.” You reach to take another bite of the chicken but change your mind at the last second and sip some water instead. It’s a weak attempt at stalling but Bud lets you have it.

“I have faith in you.” You glance down at your hands and Bud calls out your name, forcing you to meet his gaze again. “If anyone can do this, it’s you. I’ve never met someone more inclined to self preservation.”

There’s a glint in his eyes, an underlying threat to his words. You swallow harshly, grip tightening around the glass until you feel like it might shatter. If you mess this up there’s not going to be a second chance. 

You nod your head, “I’ll keep him under control. It’s not hard to leash a man when you’ve got something he wants,” the insinuation isn’t lost on him. He nods, picking up his fork and beginning to eat again. 

You can’t do the same, you’ve lost your appetite and it’s not because of his cooking. You’re not sure what Cooper will do to you if he ever finds out the truth but you know it won’t be pretty. 

He rolls over onto his side, hand peeling away from his throat and eyes widening at the glossy sheen of blood over the leather. “Fuck,” he hisses, testing out the damage done to him. Nothing too bad, just a hoarse voice that would probably work itself out within the hour. 

It’s not her stabbing him that has his blood boiling with rage. It’s the audacity she has to even attempt hurting him. He can’t know for sure whether or not she knew he would survive that. He has to assume she wouldn’t, there’s no way she’s met a ghoul before. 

Leaving him for dead once wasn’t good enough, she needed to kill him herself this time. Spiteful fucking bitch. She’d always been like that, it had just taken him too long to see it. Seems like he has a type, women who only ever look out for themselves. 

There was a look in her eyes, one he’s seen a million times before. She’s got a fight

 in her, the same selfish spirit that kept her alive for so long. God help anyone who gets in her way, she would always pick herself first. 

He rubs at the skin of his neck, wiping off the rest of the blood and laughing humorlessly. He wants to see that light go out. He wants to watch as she loses her fight. He wants to be the one that does it. Break her so thourhougly that she gives up all hope. And when she does, when there’s nothing left for her, he’ll set her loose in the world and let it have its turn ripping her apart. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

Million Dollar Man

Previous part / Next part

Cooper Howard x fem!reader, The Ghoul x fem!reader Summary: Shot, choked out, nearly gotten your throat ripped out by a feral ghoul. It’s barely even been forty eight hours on the surface.

Red carpets are overwhelming. You don’t have to walk them, thankfully, but you do have to accompany Cooper. It’s not explicitly required of you as his assistant, and honestly you think Barb would prefer if you didn’t. But he’d started taking you along after you’d admitted to wanting to go to one of his premieres. After that it became a sort of habit. 

Normally, you don’t have to participate. You linger behind interviewers or photographers and wait for him to enter into the theater with you. Tonight, however, Barb was sick. Nothing too horrific, a simple stomach bug that kept her at home. That’s what Cooper thought, at least. You know that she actually has to have an emergency meeting with one of Vault-Tec’s higher ups. There’s been some concerns raised about some of the experiments that she has to do damage control on. 

You’re almost nauseous at the thought that while you’re about to walk the carpet she’s arguing about whether or not children should be executed or experimented on in Vault 130. 

You’d spent most of your paycheck on this ridiculous red dress because Cooper insisted you join him tonight. He didn’t want to be dateless, joking that someone like him should always have a pretty lady on his arm.

You know he was just screwing with you, needling you to get you to agree to come. But you’d seen how much he really wanted you with him and how much Barb didn’t. Her right eye had twitched near imperceptibly at the suggestion and her smile had turned thin and strained. And that petty part of you that despises her for what she’s doing to Cooper, and making you do, had agreed just to piss her off. 

Standing on the carpet with him now, though, his hand hovering over your lower back and a respectable distance between you two, you felt sick.  He’d made it clear to those speaking to him and calling out questions that you were simply his friend, nothing more. He didn’t say assistant, employee, or poor girl that he’d roped into this. He said friend. He was foolishly opening himself up to the risk of a scandal. 

And he didn’t seem to care. 

One woman’s eyes hadn’t left you since you’d joined him at his side. She was glaring holes into you, bitter jealousy and suspicion clear in her gaze. She would kill to be in your position yet would still tear you down later in her pathetic little tabloid. Out of instinct you tried to inch away from Cooper, the plastic smile on your face faltering slightly. 

He glanced over at you through the side of his eyes, his own smile twitching with discontent. His hand came up to your shoulders, fingers splaying across your back, one of them slipping under the skimpy strap of your dress. You inhaled sharply at the contact, warmth blooming everywhere he touched. He seemed to have noticed your reaction if his pleased expression was anything to go by. 

His hand slipped around your arm, tugging you into his side. It was almost comical how many more camera flashes went off at the move. He laughed slightly, the noise low and sending chills down your spine. You couldn’t help yourself, shamelessly indulging as you wrapped your own arm around his waist. His grip on you tightened for a moment before you both relaxed into the other’s touch. 

Scandals be damned. 

It almost felt like he was messing with you. You kept running, breath coming out in short painful bursts. You felt like your chest was going to cave in the longer you went. You couldn’t falter for a second, you could hear him laughing behind you. The cruel noise echoed up above you in the trees and haunted you the further you got. 

You’re sure he could have caught up with you by now, he was teasing you. Taunting you with freedom before that horrible rope of his was back around you again. It was ironic, honestly, considering how attractive you used to find him when he did those lasso tricks in his old movies. 

“You can run sweetheart! But you won’t ever be able to hide from me, not out here!”

“Fuck off,” is what you wanted to say. But at the moment you were pretty fucking busy with just keeping yourself upright. You weren’t sure how long you’d been running, could have been ten minutes, could have been an hour. By this point the sound of branches cracking under your feet and the leaves rustling above you was just one high pitched ringing in your ears. 

Your blood was pumping so hard all you could really hear was the muddied sound of your heart pumping inside you. The loud bang didn’t register until you were flying forward. Your hands slide across the forest floor, palms scraping sharply against the rocks and twigs. 

The adrenaline in you is pumping so hard, your instinct for survival blocking out everything else, that you don’t register any pain. You scramble back to your feet, boots slipping in mud you hadn’t noticed before as you do, and shoot off again. 

You can hear him growing a bit more distant, voice fading away to nothing the more distance you put between the two of you. He must have had to stop to fire off his gun, you’re sure it’s the only reason you manage to get away from him. 

Still, you don’t let yourself stop or take a moment’s reprieve. You keep running until you can feel the impact of the ground inside your bones. You keep moving even as your blood burns with exhaust under your skin.

You’re completely turned around, not even letting yourself have a second to check your Pip-Boy. Eventually, when you break through the border of the forest, you find yourself in an area that looks more civilized than you were expecting. It’s all cracked pavement and crumbling buildings, but at the very least it’s not an endless wasteland of red sand. 

Through cracks in old cement you can see life beginning to grow through the old dredges of humanity. You’ve completely lost sight of Cooper. You’d like to believe he’s giving up, but you know him better than that. He’s nothing if not stubborn. Still, you allow yourself to slow down slightly. 

You jog through an old neighborhood, looking for anywhere that seems safe enough to squat in. But in every house you pass you can spot Radroaches or hear something that sounds inhuman. You’d rather not risk it when the only weapon you have on you is a knife. Plus, you’re completely exhausted from the chase. You can feel yourself slowly losing steam, the only thing that’s keeping you going now is pure adrenaline. 

You hear a loud screech to your left and your head whips towards it. Nothing comes out of the dilapidated house but you can hear the floorboards creaking with the weight of whatever is inside. The noises echo through the neighborhood and it’s only then that you notice how dark the sky is growing. You haven’t been on the surface very long, but you can assume it’s better not to be caught unawares in the dark. 

You keep your eyes on the house, blindly stumbling backwards as fear courses through you. It nearly has you frozen in place. Images of inconceivable horrors darting through your mind as you consider what could be waiting for you in the house. Your heart is racing again and you turn around, bolting down the street. 

It sounds like a bomb goes off behind you and you duck instinctively. Your feet catch on an upraised root in the ground and you go tumbling forward. Your arms spin uselessly by your sides as your feet scramble for purchase on the pavement. You manage to right yourself, turning around just long enough to catch something that looks like a ram fucked a T-Rex. It hasn’t spotted you yet, it’s head tilted further into the neighborhood as the destruction of the old house surrounds it. 

You glance around desperately, trying to find anywhere you could hide. You recognized its form, a Deathclaw. Another one of Vault-Tec’s special projects. A collaboration with the US military and their scientists to create the next great bio weapon. A knife wouldn’t do anything to it except piss it off. 

Not too far from you, you can see a bright red sign. An old Red Rocket gas station that should be good enough to hide out in while you wait for the Deathclaw to move on. You move slowly, backing away while you keep your eyes trained on the beast. It’s only then that you start to notice an odd tingling sensation in your right thigh. It almost feels like a bee sting. You don’t have time to worry about it now, though. 

The Deathclaw’s head turns, nose pointed up in the air while it sniffs around. You take the risky move of turning your back to it and bolt towards the safety of the gas station. You move with a slight limp, your right leg dragging behind you as a cramp begins to take hold of your thigh. You groan through your teeth, reaching down and holding onto it like you can force it to keep moving. You’re surprised by the wet warmth you feel when you touch the pants of your suit. 

You crash into the door of the gas station and rush inside. You slam it closed behind you and lean against it, letting out a long relieved rush of breath. You finally let yourself slump, your muscles going lax and losing the tension they’d been holding for the past few hours. You slide down the door and fall onto the filthy floor, dust rising up around you as you do. The adrenaline you’d been so heavily relying on is starting to wane as your exhaustion crashes down on you. 

You pull your hand off your thigh and glance down on it. You almost feel disconnected from your body when you see the blood coating it. The bang you’d heard in the woods earlier, Cooper shooting off his gun. You’d foolishly thought that he’d just been firing around you or into the sky, like he was trying to frighten you. 

Your voice is small as you speak, a surprised whisper, “He fucking shot me.” Your head thuds against the door and you clench your eyes shut. The adrenaline must have been the only thing keeping you going. You hadn’t even felt the bullet make contact. The cramp in your thigh begins to get more intense, you feel like your leg is being bent backward and another second of pressure is going to break it. 

You grit your teeth, bloody hand slipping against the door as you force yourself to your feet. Your foot’s going cold and you need to find something to stop the bleeding before you lose any more blood. It’s a dull throbbing ache now, it’s only going to get worse the longer it goes untreated. You’d had a plethora of Stimpaks, but Cooper had tossed those to the forest floor like they were nothing. 

You suppose to him they are nothing. 

You put your weight on your left leg and begin to hobble through the gas station, hoping to find something useful. The entire place has been raided, the aisles overturned and the shelves are bare. You’re sure there used to be supplies here but they’re long gone. The only interesting thing that catches your eye is a radio on the counter. It’s right near a back door. 

If you’re lucky - which clearly you aren’t - there will be something good behind the door. You clutch onto the counter for support, cold sweat beading on your temple as the pain in your leg intensifies. You flip through the stations of the radio, hoping to pick up a helpful radio wave. 

“-friendly reminder that I don’t take requests. So, please, don’t try and visit me anymore.” The ear grating sound of fiddles fills the empty shop and you jump back in surprise. Of fucking course. The only radio station for a hundred miles and he only plays fiddle music. You go to turn the radio off but a loud clatter coming from behind the closed door stops you. 

Your hand moves from the radio knob to the crowbar on the counter and you limp towards the door. You press your ear against the cool metal but don’t hear anything else. Clutching the cold iron of the crowbar close to your chest you slowly pulled the door open. It creaked and you winced but you barely had time to process that before something was screaming and lunging at you. 

You went flying across the shop, the breath knocked out of you as you slid across the floor. You slammed into the refrigerated walls and rolled onto your hands and knees. Blood followed the trail your body made, still leaking from your thigh. You caught sight of disjointed feet rushing towards you and had half a second to react to the ghoul that lunged for you. The crowbar was swinging before you could think about it. 

Iron met skull and the dull, wet, thud had you cringing. There was a brief squeal before the feral ghoul dropped to the ground, arms and legs twitching around wildly. “Fuck me running,” you muttered, wincing as you dragged yourself back to your feet. Two more were waiting in the doorway for you and you briefly wondered if you should just kill yourself. Seemed easier than dealing with all this bullshit. 

But you were inclined to saving your ass, so you tighten your grip on the crowbar and wait for them to come to you. The second one was easy enough to deal with. You swung the bar against their jaw so hard half of it fell to the floor with a bloody splat. Then you brought it over the top of their head until you could see brains and it crumpled to the floor. 

But your strength was waning, any reserves you had of adrenaline were drained. You stumbled against the wall as the third lunged at you. It took everything you had to simply keep its rotted teeth away from your neck. Your arms trembled from the strain and your hands slipped against their neck as they snapped their teeth loudly. You pushed against them in vain, any strength you had was gone. 

Their head snapped to the side and your ears rang as a shot went off. The ghoul crumpled near your feet and you stared wide eyed down at the blood pooling out from under it. You looked to the right and saw Lucy standing at the door, gun in hand and eyes wide as she stared at the ghoul by your feet. 

“Lucy?” You spotted what she was holding and frowned, “Is that a head?”

Credit where credit is due. He’d never seen someone run off a bullet wound before. She’d barely even tripped before she was bolting through the trees again. He watched her flying over the roots and jumping around bushes of stinging leaves with a grin on his face. “Run rabbit run!” He shouted after her, laughing when he heard her fall again. 

He stopped, eyes darting down to the small pool of blood she’d left behind. He could follow the prints her boots left in the mud, and when he lost those, he could just follow the blood. The sight of it brought him more satisfaction than it should have. But along with it came the rage that she’d even managed to get away at all. 

He should have known she would try and fight back. He’d been hoping she would be unprepared for the surface, but Vault-Tec would never let their little soldiers out without knowing how to fight. They were meant to re-dominate the world after all. 

He forces himself to slow down, to savor the chase. It’s so rare that he gets to do anything but wait with his targets. He was going to milk this for all it was worth. He couldn’t wait until he got her cornered, snared like a wild animal. He’d love to see how she would try to fight back then. 

He follows the tracks and feels himself growing antsy. She doesn’t know the area, that much is clear. If she did, she wouldn’t be running towards a well known Deathclaw nest. Not much can do him real harm. Bullets, arrows, knives, pretty much anything can go through him and he’ll live. But there’s only so much healing you can do when a Deathclaw is ripping your arms off. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, watching as her prints dissapear and small dribbles of blood lead into an abandoned neighborhood. It’s getting dark, he’ll lose sight of the trail soon. If he follows it into the neighborhood there’s a good chance that she’ll already be dead. Either from blood loss or from running up on a Deathclaw in its home. He’s risking his own hide for nothing more than revenge. 

If he waits any longer he’ll have to camp for the night and there’s a chance he might not catch up to her again. He tugs the pistol out of its holster and keeps an eye out for any hulking beasts that might try and delimb him. 

There’s a pile of broken wood and glass in the middle of the road. Remnants of an old house. He can only assume it's the work of the Deathclaw, nothing else has half as much a penchant for destruction. He skirts around it, following the blood down the hill towards an old gas station. 

The dog he picked up in Filly runs up ahead of him, catching a scent and following it. He can only wonder what’s set it off but it’s not his main priority. If the damn thing runs off then so be it. The closer he gets to the station the more he can make out voices. There’s a light glowing through the window, flickering to life like a fire would. Among the voices is the staticky sound of fiddles playing. 

The music he recognizes as the work of the intolerable DJ he ran into a few months back. Man had his station boobytrapped halfway to hell. As annoying as his music was, he wasn’t worth the hassle to kill. He wished he had now, though. Just the brief bit he has to listen to is enough to drive him mad. 

Dogmeat barks and the voices go quiet. “Fucking dog,” he mutters. He doesn’t give them any time to prepare. He busts through the door, guns drawn and points them at the two women on the floor. Two-in-one, he gets the head and the girl. 

She glares up at him, hand wrapped around her bloody thigh. “You found me.”

He gives her a mean grin, cocking the hammer of his gun back. She braces herself but he points it at her little friend instead. “You can run, but you can’t hide from me sweetheart.”

Cooper led her into the theater. He couldn’t help but laugh at the way she visibly deflated. Her shoulders slouched forward and she lost some of the faux confidence she’d been forcing for the cameras. He almost felt a little guilty for dragging her along with him, but not by too much. 

When Barb had said she couldn't make it, well, he hadn’t hesitated. As horrible as it is, he’d been wanting her on his arm for a while. Could anyone really blame him? She was gorgeous, and it wasn’t all physical. There was a fight, a spirit, in her that he adored. It created a certain spark in her eye that had drawn him the first moment he met her. 

And still, in front of all of those cameras it was the first time he’d ever really seen her look unsure of herself. Indulging more than he should, he kept his arm around her, thumb idly smoothing over her bare skin. “You alright, sweetheart?”

She glanced up at him, lips parted and looking like she’d forgotten he was standing there with her. The odd sadness in her gaze disappeared, shuttered away behind her walls. She put on a tense smile and hummed, “Yep. I’m fine.” She took in a deep breath and straightened herself, looking more like the woman he recognized. “Just never really been a fan of cameras, especially not that many.” A weak chuckle and then she ducked out from under his arm using the guise of needing the washroom. 

He sighed, immediately feeling the absence of her body pressed against his. There was a clear lack of warmth as she walked away from him and the distance between them seemed larger than it should. “Mr. Howard?” Cooper turned around, a young woman was waiting behind him with a notepad in hand. He recognized her as one of the producer’s daughters and immediately turned on his charm. 

“Yes?”

She nearly blushed at the direct attention and eagerly held out the pen and paper. “Could I please have you autograph? I’m one of your biggest fans!” Meeting girls like her was one of his favorite parts of doing these premieres. They were always so kind and excited, waiting to meet him like he was some sort of hero. Sometimes it felt like he received the sort of attention as an actor that he should have when he was in the war. 

He smiled and reached for the paper, quickly signing off his signature. It had been one of the harder parts to adjust to when he first started acting, trying to get his signature right. Now, he didn’t even have to look at the paper to do it. The girl started rattling off her favorite movies of his, asking him questions he wasn’t really hearing. He knew he should be paying attention, it never does well to ignore producers' kids. 

But he sees his date moving into the theater out of the corner of his eye and suddenly can’t be bothered with the girl. He hands her the notebook back, cutting her off as he bids her goodbye and walks after the woman he’s eager to speak with again. A P.A. jumps in front of him before he can get very far. “Mr. Howard,” his smile is strained and they sound tense. Clearly, he’d been looking for him for a while. “You’re needed up front.”

She sits in the back of the theater, clearly tired of being front and center the whole night. Again, there’s that little pang of guilt in his chest that he’d dragged her out here. But it disappears as she takes her seat and the slit of her dress slides up her thigh. He jerks his head back towards the stage and focuses on just getting through his little speech. He thanks his supporters, introduces the movies, and the second he gets the signal is beelining towards her. 

She gives him a surprised look when he lands in front of her. “Aren’t you supposed to be up there with them?” She phrases it like a question but the tone of her voice sounds like a demand. He should be up front with the other actors and executives, but she isn’t. The only way he’s getting through tonight is if he can talk to her during the movie. 

He doesn’t often like revisiting his movies. He finds that if he watches them too much he starts to get too critical. He’ll pick apart every line, every action and expression. Eventually he’ll wear himself down and tire himself out by being too picky. 

He shakes his head and takes a seat beside her, arm resting on the bar between them. He unbuttons his suit jacket and leans back, letting out a tired breath. He’s been in the public eye a little bit more lately with this whole Vault-Tec partnership. He’s hoping he can take a break after tonight. Maybe spend more time with his family. 

Of course that means spending less time with her. 

The lights of the theater dim and the crowd quiets from its earlier rush of excitement. She leans back into her seat with an annoyed huff and one last lingering glare before diverting her attention to the start of the movie. He can hear the boot spurs ringing through the speakers, his own voice calling out to the villain of the flick. 

But he can’t take his eyes off of her. The annoyance had disappeared fast from her gaze, never really there to begin with. She’s got this sparkle in her eye and a sort of subdued excitement that pleases him to see. She can try and deny it as much as she wants, but he knows that she is one of his oldest fans. She gets a starstruck look everytime she sees one of his movies. 

But she doesn’t give him that same look, just the movies. 

Without thinking his hand reaches for her own. He doesn’t know why he does it, what could possibly possess him to do something so stupid. But she looked so damn beautiful tonight, he just couldn’t help himself. Her hand, however, happens to be on her thigh. 

He’d meant it to be a friendly gesture. But he was so busy admiring her he missed and his hand clasped around her upper thigh instead. He doesn’t hate the feel of her skin under his. The brush of silk from her dress and the warmth emanating from her. He should, he’s a married man after all. But she seems like such a perfect fit in every aspect of his life that he can’t ever imagine any part of their relationship being wrong. Even such an intimate touch like this feels right to him. 

He expects her to get upset, swat him off of her. She should, she has every right too. Instead, she places her own hand on top of his. She’s yet to look away from the screen, barely even twitching when he touches her. Her eyes are on the larger than life image of him, but her attention is solely focused on Cooper. 

She leans closer into him slightly and he can smell the sweet perfume she’d spritzed tonight. It drives him insane, how deeply attached he’s become to her. He recognizes that this isn’t her normal perfume and he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t know what perfume she wears, what her favorite nail color is or the exact shade of her everyday lipstick. But he does, he recognizes it all. Knows her better than he knows himself sometimes. 

It should surprise him. Him touching her should surprise her. But it doesn’t. Because on some level, they both know this is how it’s meant to be. They’re meant to be together, even if they shouldn’t be. He finally tears his eyes off of her, squeezing her leg slightly and she does the same to his hand. 

A secret message between the two.

end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

Series Masterlist

The End of the Beginning

Cruel World

Crash of Worlds

Ultraviolence

Million Dollar Man

Only Have Eyes for You

The Other Woman 18+

Madman's Eyes

On temporary hiatus

end. — I do not own the characters or the video game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

Teaser for the next chapter of The End of the Beginning:

Your eyes are locked, something old and familiar swimming in both of them. You used to be ashamed of this feeling he brought up in you. He was a married man after all and you were just his lying assistant. You were never supposed to be attracted to him. You’re certainly not supposed to be attracted to him when he looks like this. But despite how much he’s changed, he’s still got that Cooper Howard charm.  He doesn’t drag you forward roughly. He guides you further into him, tilting your chin up and leering down at you with that angry grin. His hand glides around the back of your neck- The head drops to the ground with a wet thud as your hands fly to the rope on your neck. He’s grabbed the back of it, tightening it so hard you’re sure you felt your eyes pop out. The smile on his face is gone, instead it’s replaced by an intensely concentrated look. His eyes are boring into your own, taking in every twitch and gasp as he watches you struggle for breath.  You dig at your neck, feeling warm wet blood bubble under your nails the more you rip at the rope. Your fingers go cold and your tongue swells as the pressure in your face increases until you think the skin will burst. The eye contact doesn’t break between you, darkly intimate as he takes in every detail of your slow death by his hand. 

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Only Have Eyes for You

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Series Masterlist

Cooper Howard x fem!reader, The Ghoul x fem!reader Summary: He found you, again, you should be expecting it at this point. The only problem is there’s still a Deathclaw lurking around outside the station. You’re stuck with him and the bodies of the ghoul you kill in a desolate gas station.

“God, Coop, this is delicious.” She moans around the fork and takes another bite of dinner. He clenches his fork a little tighter, trying not to stare too obviously at the way her lips wrap around the metal. He feels like a lech, watching her reactions so eagerly. He also feels like she might be playing this whole thing up to screw with him. 

He’s a good cook, but he’s not that good. She glances up at him, red lips tilted up into a mischievous smirk. He lets out a rough sigh, shoulders slumping forward as he shakes his head and digs into his own meal. Of course she was messing with him. 

She lets out a little laugh, “Sorry, couldn’t resist. You’re so easy to rile up.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he tries to sound stern, but he can’t mask his own smile. “Keep it up and I won’t be cooking for you anymore.” He points the fork at her, an attempt at being intimidating, but he can’t keep the act up when she laughs. 

She’s enchanting, everything about her. The way she sits, eats, talks. He could just watch her all day and never be bored. Everything about her seems to be designed to tempt him. He knows he shouldn’t be thinking like this, it’s wrong. But he finds that thoughts like these are becoming easier to live with everyday. 

There’s always a cop out or an excuse that assuages his guilt in the moment. Of course, that night, when he puts Janey to sleep and lies next to his wife, that’s when everything comes crashing down. But when he’s with her, it’s like they’re in their own world. 

There’s no one here to answer to. No responsibilities to worry about or deadlines to meet. He can take off the celebrity mask and just be himself around her. Her presence is freeing. She approaches everything in life with such self-assuredness that he feels more confident around her. 

Sometimes, after a particularly bad day or a rough fight with Barb, he imagines what life would be like with her. If he’d never been a movie star. If he’d never fought in that war. If he’d just met her before everything changed. Maybe they’d have a ranch, out in the middle of nowhere with no one and nothing around them. 

It would just be the two of them together, maybe some chickens, definitely Roosevelt. The thought always makes him smile. Then he remembers what reality actually looks like. The war, the stardom, his family, it’s who he is. It’s so deeply ingrained into him that he doesn’t even know who he would be without it. 

“Oh,” she looks up from her plate and glances over at the record player. Cooper takes the chance to look at her, really look at her. The candlelight gives her a youthful glow. Her lips are eased into a gentle smile, expression soft and open. It’s the most relaxed he’s seen her in a while. She’s been so tense lately, it’s why he offered to make her dinner. 

Now, the tension has melted from her shoulders. It looks like the light’s gone back on in her eyes. Hell, he’d practically invited her on a date, he doesn’t know why he’s surprised by how happy she looks. They’re eating a dinner he made by candlelight with I Only Have Eyes for You playing in the background. 

He’s not sure he could have made this any more romantic. “I love this song,” she whispers. She glances back over at him. It’s a brief look, fleeting and gone as quick as it comes. But he knows what she’s thinking, because he’s thinking the same thing. 

They speak with their eyes, their looks, it’s become a secret language between the two of them. It’s full of fleeting touches and longing gazes and it’s always quicker than he wants. There was a yearning in her eyes that he knows is reflected in his own. The desire to act on their desires. 

For tonight, only tonight he reasons, he’s going to do what he wants. The world will melt away and he’ll give into the fantasies. They’ll go back to their usual tomorrow, but tonight, tonight is for the two of them and no one else. 

He stands up from his seat and she glances up at him, eyes wide and a furrow in her brow. “Come on darling,” he whispers. If he speaks too loudly the spell will end and they’ll sober up, realize what they’re doing. He holds out his hand to her and she looks at it for a moment. Fleeting touches, it’s all they know, tonight that changes. 

She doesn’t smile, simply slides her hand into his and nods. Acceptance of what they’re doing. Her palm is warm against his, smooth and when she squeezes his hand it takes everything in him not to just bring her into his chest. But he has to be slow, savor this while it lasts. Tomorrow it ends. He can’t let this moment be rushed. He helps her to her feet and leads her into the open space of his living room.

When he comes to a stop she finally takes her eyes off her heels and looks at him. He swears the stars are in her eyes, they lure him in and keep him captive in their hold. He never wants to look away from her. 

Her hand slowly glides up his arm. Her fingers brush against the nape of his neck from where she lazily drapes her forearm over his shoulder. He smiles at her, heart racing a bit when she gives him her gorgeous smile in return. They sway slightly as his arm wraps around her waist and his free hand takes her other one. 

She scoffs in amusement when she notices the way he keeps them apart. There’s a ridiculous amount of space between the two of them. He’s afraid if he pulls her any closer he’ll lose the last thread of sanity he has.  

She takes the final step, slotting her feet between his, their chests pushed up together. For a moment, he worries that she can feel how quickly his heart is beating. It processed slowly that it’s her own pulse he’s feeling. She’s just as affected by him as he is by her. 

She gives him one last look before she leans her head against his shoulder. He mourns the loss of her eyes for a moment before he closes his own and leans into her. He forgets where he is, lets himself get lost in the moment. They're not even dancing, merely moving together. 

He’s not sure how many songs they sway to, how long they stand joined together. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t know whether they’re still in his house or have somehow danced their way into the backyard. He only has eyes for her. 

You hold your hands up, trying your best to placate him. Cooper just gives you a mean smirk, his head tilted in contemplation as he looks at Lucy. Her eyes are wide as she stares down the barrel of his gun. “Cooper-”

He pulls back the hammer and your mouth clamps shut. You have no way of knowing what he’s going to do. Maybe if this was two hundred years ago you might. But this man before you is a stranger. 

Your heart leaps to your throat and you have to stop yourself from lunging forward when he grabs at Lucy. In a split second the gun is pointed at you and his arm is tightly wrapped around her neck. Lucy wheezes, hands desperately clawing at Cooper’s arms. 

You’re crouched on the ground, hackles raised like a feral animal. There’s a throbbing pain radiating from where he shot you. Were it not for Lucy’s medkit you would have bled out. If the wound wasn’t crippling you right now, you would have already shoved your knife through his neck. Again. 

“Up,” he commands with a jerky upward motion of his gun. Your eyes dart to Lucy’s. They’re rounded with concern and she shakes her head as much as he allows. You can’t run, your brains would be splattered across dusty linoleum before you breached the door. You have no choice but to comply with his commands. 

He smiles, seeming to come to the same realization as you. His eyes rove over you, lightening with satisfaction as he catches sight of the blood covering the entirety of your right leg. Then they happen upon the head dangling from your hand. “Well, well, well, look what we have here. Three for the price of one backstabbing bitch.”

Your face screws up in a sardonic smile and you toss the head to his feet, “Take it. Leave us the hell alone and just take the bounty.” Lucy squeaks but her face is turning purple from the grip he has around her throat. She’s got no room to protest against this. Either you give up the head or he kills you both. You don’t see yourself getting out of this one. 

To your chagrin Cooper simply shakes his head. He tucks the gun back into its holster and you track the movement carefully. He reaches behind himself, pulling out his rope and roughly placing it in Lucy’s hands. With a loud gasp she’s released from his hold and shoved forward. You grunt, hands reaching up to brace her as she crashes into you. She pants into your shoulder, rubbing her throat with a wheeze as she catches her breath. 

Cooper’s eyes are cold, devoid of anything except a detached boredom as he watches you both. “Tie her up.”

Lucy looks over her shoulder, voice cracking and painful to listen to. “What?” You can barely hear her, you’re not sure how Cooper manages to understand what she’s saying. But he does, he doesn’t say anything else. He leans back, arms hanging relaxed by his side as he nods once more from the rope in her hands to you. 

Your hands tighten to the point of creaking pain in your knuckles as Lucy slowly shifts away from you. Her own grip on the frayed rope is shaking, hands trembling as her cool fingers wrap around your wrists. You don’t let your eyes leave Cooper. You take in the smug look on his face and let it fuel your hatred for him further. He might think he’s got you now, but the second you’re fully healed you’re going to kill him. Permanently this time. 

There’s a little tsk from Cooper and Lucy glances back at him, hands still hovering over your wrists. He shakes his head and nods upwards. Her lips part, brows narrowed in confusion as her hands slowly make their way higher up your body. Over your forearms, past your elbows, and grazing against your biceps. He’s only satisfied when her hands are placed loosely around your neck. “Leash her,” the command is a rough growl that has panicked shivers crawling down your spine. There’s contempt dripping from his voice, nothing but hate as he barely even looks at you. 

Lucy mouths an apology but you just shake your head. You don’t need her apologies, you just need this to be over. You need him to turn his back so you can both make a run for it. Craning your neck forward, Lucy slips the loop over your head. She tries not to irritate the bruise that is already around your throat from your last run in with him but it's unavoidable. Your jaw clenches, teeth grinding together as you try not to focus on the burning chafe of rope against your skin. 

Something wet nudges against your hand and your stare breaks away from Cooper. The back of your palm is sticky with something slimy and you grimace as you glance down. There’s a sharp yip from the hound beside you. She’s nudging relentlessly against the hand holding the head, like she’s trying to take it from you. Your fingers bury deeper into the hair and you jerk back, forgetting momentarily about the rope and hissing when it tears at the fragile skin. 

Cooper stomps forward, the spurs on his boots sounding like jingling omens of doom. He grabs at the rope and with a hard tug you stumble towards him. Your chin lands on his chest, the bone digging uncomfortably into his sternum. You glare up at him and he’s already grinning down at you. The yellow of his teeth looks particularly putrid tonight. 

His hand is rough as it grasps your wrist. The skin hardened and calloused from hundreds of years of being under the nuclear sun. Your breath catches slightly when it finds its way around the base of your neck. His touch is almost gentle as his fingers skate across your collarbones. It catches you off guard, lips parting with a surprised gasp as they travel deftly up your neck. 

You expect him to squeeze so you take a deep breath. His smile ticks up, grin widening at the action. His head tilts slightly as he takes you in, eyes roving up and down your form. This is odd, this feeling. There’s a flutter in your stomach, a recognizable ache in your chest when you see the way he’s looking at you. 

Your eyes are locked, something old and familiar swimming in both of them. You used to be ashamed of this feeling he brought up in you. He was a married man after all and you were just his lying assistant. You were never supposed to be attracted to him. You’re certainly not supposed to be attracted to him when he looks like this. But despite how much he’s changed, he’s still got that Cooper Howard charm. 

He doesn’t drag you forward roughly. He guides you further into him, tilting your chin up and leering down at you with that angry grin. His hand glides around the back of your neck-

The head drops to the ground with a wet thud as your hands fly to the rope on your neck. He’s grabbed the back of it, tightening it so hard you’re sure you felt your eyes pop out. The smile on his face is gone, instead it’s replaced by an intensely concentrated look. His eyes are boring into your own, taking in every twitch and gasp as he watches you struggle for breath. 

You dig at your neck, feeling warm wet blood bubble under your nails the more you rip at the rope. Your fingers go cold and your tongue swells as the pressure in your face increases until you think the skin will burst. The eye contact doesn’t break between you, darkly intimate as he takes in every detail of your slow death by his hand. 

The world around you is muffled like you’re underwater. The blood rushing around in your head as your brain throbs. Vaguely, you can hear Lucy shouting and the dog barking. But Cooper never takes his eyes off of you. He’s undeterred by Lucy hitting and slapping at him with her own fatigued arms. It’s only when a loud roar off in the distance rattles the floor of the station that he lets you go. 

Your legs give out but you don’t get a chance to sink to the floor. A firm arm wraps around your waist and keeps you clutched to his chest. You have no choice but to hold onto him, nails digging into the leather of his duster as you catch your breath. “Alright,” he mutters, voice low as he speaks into your ear. “Catch your breath, sweetheart.” For a moment you can pretend he’s comforting you. That he wasn’t the one who just tried to kill you. 

He doesn’t let the fantasy last long. “It’s only going to get worse from here.”

You’d cry if you weren’t so exhausted. “Please,” Lucy croaks from behind you. “What do you want from us?” You try to slip away from him while she speaks. But you still don’t have great control over your faculties. Your feet just slide uselessly against the floor as he keeps you strapped to him like an iron band. 

“You,” he spits the word out like an insult. “Well, I don’t want nothing from you, little lady. It’s her I want.” You don’t have to look up to know that he’s talking about you. It’s clear enough from the way he tugs a little at your rope. You whimper at the twinge of pain and he chuckles. You glance up enough to see him look down at the head, frowning slightly as he considers it. “Although, that bounty right there is a bit of a bonus.”

Lucy shakes her head, ponytail waving around wildly. She holds up her hands, starting towards it. The dog lunges forward and Lucy stumbles back with a frightened yelp. “Please,” she looks up at Cooper, eyes pleading. “I need that head to save my father.” You would sigh if breathing didn’t hurt right now. There was no getting him to sympathize with her. 

“Your father?” Cooper questions, voice almost sounding sympathetic. Lucy nods, lips pouted and eyes wide with a beg for mercy. He huffs, a sneer marring his lips. “Well that’s just too bad,” he mocks. Lucy doesn’t seem to pick up on the sarcasm in his words, though, so he makes himself a little more clear. “I don’t give a fuck about your father, darling.”

Before anyone can say anything else there’s another loud roar, this time much closer than the last one. Cooper tenses up around you, arm tightening and eyes darting over to the closed metal door of the shop. Finally, he releases you. 

Your legs are still wobbly, you manage to stay standing for a second before they give out. They fold under you like a crumbling card tower and your body jolts roughly against the floor. Lucy skirts around the growling dog, still guarding her master’s head, and kneels beside you. 

Cooper opens the door, he pops his head outside for a second. You and Lucy share a look but it’s barely a minute later before he darts back inside and slams the door behind him. Without a word he drags a large metal shelf in front of the door and blocks it off. 

You and Lucy watch as he does it to the other doors as well. His face doesn’t give away much but you can tell from the hunch of his shoulders that whatever he saw had scared the hell out of him. You don’t know what time Deathclaw’s like to hunt but you figure it’s probably about now. You would enjoy the idea of something frightening Cooper if it didn’t scare you ten times worse. 

Cooper looks over at the two of you and frowns like it’s your fault you're all stuck here. “Settle in, ladies, it’s going to be a long night.”

He managed to find a half rotted couch in one of the rooms, it’s not very comfortable. But it’s better than the floor. It’s certainly better than being tied up to a counter, which is exactly where you are. You keep shifting around, picking at the dried blood on your pants. He can’t deny the satisfaction it brought him to see how uncomfortable you are sitting in your own blood. 

Your little friend is still hovering around you. He hadn’t really had to worry about tying Lucy up, she refuses to leave your side. Lucy keeps fussing about the wound on your neck. Everytime she tries to take the rope off all he has to do is clear his throat and she’s pale with fear. 

The dog is curled up by him, resting on top of her owner’s head. It’s creepy, her attachment to that damn thing. She should be able to smell the death on him. Though, with the men he used to work for, he’s sure that she doesn’t know any other smell. 

He didn’t bother questioning them about the dead ghouls in the shop. He’d just made them drag the bodies into the empty refrigerators to hopefully keep the smell locked away. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. You’d had a bloody crowbar in your hand when he’d ambushed you. 

He catches your eye from where he rests on the couch. It’s hard to believe you’re such a ruthless little killer considering how pathetic you look right now. Your expression is sour, eyes set with thinly veiled hatred. You can glower all you want, he’s not gonna pretend he didn’t see the want in your eyes earlier. You might be angry now, but you still want him all the same. It’s gonna make breaking you so much sweeter. 

Lucy happens to catch the look and she frowns at what she must think is familiarity. He tilts his hat over his eyes, deciding he might as well try and sleep now. They won’t be leaving this place until the Deathclaw lurking around outside goes back to its den. 

“Do you know him?” He attempts to drown out their conversation but its hard. They’re in ridiculously tight quarters and as much as he wishes he was alone right now, he’s not. He could always just toss Lucy out the door, use her as a distraction for the Deathclaw. Sadly, she does have some use about her. 

Clearly she knows her way around a gun and a medkit. She’s resilient, he’s sure even if he did toss her out she’d still bounce back somehow. Besides, she’s keeping her friend calm and docile. He needs them both to keep each other under control. 

A light hum, “Used too.”

Lucy’s voice is incredulous, she almost sounds betrayed. “How is that possible?”

He opens his eyes just enough to see yours widen. Your face pales like you’d just realized the mistake you made. He doubts Lucy actually knows much about the vaults she lives in. He’s sure that, just as you always did, you’re still keeping Vault-Tec’s secrets. 

Instead of answering the question you try to deflect. “Come on, he might be missing a nose and have a real shitty fucking attitude.” He can’t help but snort at the anger in your voice. Like you have any right to be angry at him. “But you don’t recognize your favorite little mascot?”

He sneers at the mocking tone. When he glances back up you’ve got a smug little smile on your face. You’re not looking at Lucy, you’re already staring at him. Waiting for him to explode. 

Well, one thing hasn’t changed. You still know how to get under his skin. But he’ll be damned if he lets you know just how much you piss him off. He doesn’t give you the satisfaction of his reaction, he just closes his eyes again and imagines all the different ways he wants to torture you. 

“What do you mean?”

“You should ask him for an autograph Lucy, it’s our very own Vault Boy.” He pictures sliding his knife under your skin and peeling while you shriek. “Isn't that right, Cooper?” He sees himself shooting Bud and Barb and you, over and over again. The same little fantasies that got him through the first years of the fallout. 

Lucy is undeterred by your deflection. She keeps her eyes trained on you both. Her brows are drawn in, mouth set in a firm line. “You two know each other.” You don’t answer, eyes darting away from his and settling on the floor. Lucy sinks back against the counter and sighs. “That’s why you never loved Norm.”

Norm? He tilts his head up, taking in the affronted look on your face. Your head whips back towards her, “Lucy-” she cuts you off. 

“Him?” She motions towards him, voice incredulous and almost hurt. Who the fuck is Norm? You lower your head, like you’re ashamed. He wonders if it’s because you got caught or just because you were ever with him. “He’s so much better than my brother?” She keeps going, voice reaching a pitch of anger as she prods at you. 

He’s surprised by how quickly she connected the dots. He hadn’t thought she would be so perceptive. He’s sure that little show you gave her earlier when he had his hand around your neck probably gave you away. 

“In my defense,” you hiss back, “he used to have a fucking nose.” 

You know she’s struggling with this. The idea that you could have ever loved the ghoul. But, she doesn’t understand just how different he had been when you’d known him. She only knows this cannibalistic sadist without a kind bone in his body. 

Lucy is staring at you with something close to hate in her eyes. You can’t really blame her. So far he’d beat you both down and taken you hostage. You both know it’s only going to get worse. And now she thinks that you loved him, which is true. You think she might believe you still have feelings for him, which, despite your earlier display, is not true. 

She also knows now that you precede everything before the fallout. You’re sure she’s trying to put together how that works and right now you need to distract her with whatever you’ve got to keep her from figuring out the truth. 

“He was different,” you try, voice soft and pleading. 

She just shakes her head, turning away from you. “Norm deserved better,” she whispers and you frown. It hurts, the way she says it. Like you aren’t good enough for him. You cared for Norm as best you could but you weren’t going to apologize for not being in love with him. You can’t control who you love and who just can’t.

She would never know the man you loved and the thought hurt more than you cared to admit. “Who the fuck is Norm?” You and Lucy both leap apart, not expecting to hear his voice. You share a hesitant glance with each other. 

Cooper stands over you, expression expectant and hard. You try to shake your head, but she’s already answering, “Her husband,” she spits the words out like a threat. You recognize the tone, the same one you used to hear pre-war. Like if he keeps bugging you, your husband is going to come kick his ass. 

But this isn’t some asshole hitting on you in a bar. And Norm isn’t exactly a fighter. Cooper seems to realize that too because he steps back and fixes you with an odd look. You brace yourself, for anger or disgust, anything. You’re not prepared for the way he laughs, hands on his knees and whole body shaking with it. You frown, almost offended by his display. 

What the hell was that supposed to mean? 

You’ve never seen him laugh like this. 

Lucy gives you a scared glance before scooting closer to you. “That’s rich,” he sighs, wiping a tear from his eyes and shaking his head. “Married in the fucking apocalypse, how goddamn ridiculous.” He doesn’t sound amused anymore. There’s venom in his tone. His eyes narrow down on you and you shrink further into yourself, thigh throbbing painfully. 

He walks back to the couch, throwing himself down and tugging the hat over his eyes. “Feel bad for the poor bastard,” he mutters, the words feel hateful. But everything about him now is tainted with anger and hate. 

Lucy, realizing he isn’t going to bother you both anymore fixes you with one more angry look before moving away from you. She settles against the refrigerators. She’d rather sit near dead ghouls than be near you. 

Your head falls forward with defeat, chin tucking into your chest with a rough sigh. You’re sure it wouldn’t take much longer for her to discover just who you really are and what you do for Vault-Tec. She’s smart, she’s going to figure it out soon. And when she does she’s not going to be interested in your company anymore. 

Once that happens, well, Cooper’s got nothing left to leverage against you. 

“You cooked?” The astonishment in Norm’s voice has you rolling your eyes. 

“Don’t sound so surprised. I am capable of some wifely duties,” you send him a playful grin and he offers up a brief chuckle. “Your dad’s coming over,” you admit. You turn your back to him, placing a fork beside the plate you're setting. You can practically feel the tension that settles over him at the announcement. 

Hank’s visits never really go the way that he wants. Or the way you want. He’s the overseer before he’s an old friend and especially before he’s a father. At least to Norm. He’s always been a little sweeter on Lucy. You’ve never really figured out if it’s because she embraces her role in the vault so much better than Norm. Or if it’s because she reminds him of her mother. 

You, personally, never got to meet Lucy’s mom. You only heard stories about her. Norm was too young to really remember her, but Lucy always loves to talk about how kind of a woman she was. You don’t know the real story of how she died, but you know the shit Betty and Hank pedal isn’t the truth. 

You try to avoid the topic of parents in your home as much as you can. It’s a sensitive subject for Norm. It’s why you’d been putting off telling Norm about Hank coming over. But you put it off so much, you’ve had no choice but to spring it on him. It’s better like this, honestly. He always weasels his way out of these dinners. Then you’re stuck awkwardly fielding Hank’s questions about your marriage with his son. 

It’s not really fun to talk to the guy you used to get drinks with about creating a child with his kid. 

“You didn't tell me,” Norm doesn’t sound angry. He never gets angry with you. He just seems resigned. Resigned to accepting that he’s in a marriage he never wanted. Resigned in the fact that he hates the vault he lives in, the jobs he works, that he’ll never truly be satisfied. Your husband can be a sad man sometimes. 

You wish you could be what he needed you to be. Wish you could love him the way you should, but you can’t. As much as you try. He knows it’s forced and he doesn’t want to pretend he’s okay with being second choice in your heart. 

“I’m sorry, but you always manage to get out of these things. Then I’m stuck awkwardly talking about sperm count and his and Lucy’s book club.”

Usually Norm just huffs and accepts his fate. Instead, he fixes you with an odd look. It’s that assessing gaze he gets sometimes that makes you feel like he’s looking straight into your core and seeing the rot there. He walks around you, grabbing a plate and finishing up setting the table. “You know,” he starts and you tense up. 

You pretend to be busy mixing the mash potatoes so you don’t have to look at him. Your anxieties are always evident on your face, you don’t need him to pick you apart right now. “My dad seems a lot more comfortable with you than he does me. Sometimes,” you risk a glance and he shakes his head. He seems like he’s talking more to himself than you. “Sometimes,” he starts again, “it seems like you two know each other.”

Your breath catches and you’re pretty sure your heart stops beating for a solid minute. He’s still muttering to himself, not looking at you or really even processing what he’s saying, but you’re worried he’s figured you out. It’s illogical and impossible. You could easily explain your bond with Hank away. But it doesn’t make you feel any better about having to lie to him. 

You’re quite literally saved by the bell as your doorbell buzzes and Hank’s voice calls out a chipper, “Hello!” Norm puts down the last glass, gives you a strained smile, and turns to get the door. You take in a deep breath and slump over the counter for a second. 

You had this foolish idea in your head that the last person you would ever have to lie to would be Cooper. That once you got down into the vaults you wouldn’t have to keep lying to the people you care about. You could finally rid yourself of the constant anxiety and stress of the upkeep of your lies. 

You should have known better. 

Hank walks in with Norm, the two of them chatting about Norm’s new janitorial job. Norm is less than enthused and Hank is worried about the lack of enthusiasm. “Cleaning toilets is a very important role here, son. I’m proud of you.” At least he tries. 

Norm sits his dad at the table and walks into the kitchen. You give him a smile and finish pouring the potatoes onto the dish of food. You hope he doesn’t notice how strained your look is. If he does, he has the decency not to mention it. 

He only offers you a brief smile in return, a secret message in his look. It’s tense, the same as yours, but this is simply a request to play interference between him and his dad tonight. You huff a laugh and nod, he gives you a relieved look and grabs the pitcher of lemonade from beside you. 

You watch him walk back to the table. His back is turned as he pours drinks for all of you. You’re reminded of a different dinner you had a long time ago. Not for the first time you look at Norm and wish he was someone else. 

You screw your eyes shut, turning your back on him and glancing down at the food in front of you. He deserves better than you. 

You take in a deep breath and pick up the dish full of your dinner tonight. You straighten out your shoulders and turn towards the men waiting for you with your most practiced smile. “Who’s hungry?”

end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

The Other Woman

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Series Masterlist

Cooper Howard x fem!reader, The Ghoul x fem!reader CW: 18+ Summary: He looks like he’s dying, you hope he is. When he finally gives into his disease, you’re taking Lucy and you’re making a run for it.

The sun was bad when you had water and shelter in the trees. Completely exposed and ankles half buried in sand, you think you might die. It would be the preferable fate at this point. You’re sweating so much in your suit that the dried blood from your wound has become wet again. You’re sure the bandages around your thigh are soiled. Anything Lucy’s Stimpak did for you has been undone by the grit and grime coating your body. 

She’s not faring much better than you, trailing slowly along ahead of you. Like yours, her lips are peeling back and paling under the harsh sun. Cooper has already taken all the damage his body can handle. You’re sure he doesn’t even feel the sun under that rough exterior of his. 

You stumble forward, feet tripping over each other as he tugs on your leash. You can’t even be angry at him anymore. You’re too exhausted and beaten down to feel anything right now. But the lack of a reaction only seems to fuel him further. He keeps tugging, prodding, poking, seeing what it takes to get something out of you. 

Sweat is practically bleeding from you. You can feel your skin peeling up and shriveling under the sun’s ruthless gaze. Sand has been steadily seeping into your boots the longer you walk and it’s only irritating you further. Lucy hasn’t once looked at you since Cooper dragged you both out of the old gas station. 

You’d had to be quick about it with the Deathclaw still lurking around nearby. He’d barely given you anytime to wake up. He’d simply grabbed the rope around your neck and ran outside with you, rushing through the old neighborhood until you cleared the Deathclaw’s territory. He hadn’t woken up Lucy or tried to get the dog to come with him. They’d simply followed. 

It terrified you, knowing that the only thing he cared about was you. This dedication wasn’t born from love or care. This was him wanting revenge. Revenge for lying to him and screwing him over. You’d think two hundred years would have been enough for him to just get over it. Self reflect and move on. 

But, no, he’d always been stubborn. It seems like the fallout only made that worse. 

You don’t know how many hours pass before you start to see something other than sand on the horizon. Could be four or eight, you’ll never be able to tell. It all blurred into one miserable memory of nothing but too bright light. 

But eventually, by the grace of God or the universe taking pity on you, buildings start to grow in the distance. They’re all destroyed, the tallest of them half crumbled and the debris spilling across the ground. Lucy perks up slightly at the sight of them, curiosity overpowering her own fatigued state. You do not share the same passion as her. You’d seen it all when it was still standing, wasn’t impressive then, isn’t impressive now. 

If it was a pool of clean filtered water, maybe then you’d be interested. 

Lucy gazes up at the taller buildings, mouth agape and eyes looking glossed over. Cooper moves past her, not bothered by leaving her behind. He knows she’ll follow, same way he knows the dog is going to stay with the head. 

You’re all dogs to him. Just cattle to be herded. He doesn’t see you as human, you doubt he sees anything other than profit and gain. Your worth is measured by your usefulness to him. You don’t know what he thinks he could get from Lucy, you’re sure it’s not good. You know your own fate is going to be slow and horrific. 

You offer him petty revenge. Cathartic and vicarious vengeance on those from Vault-Tec who had wronged him and turned him into the monster he is today. Your value is immeasurable to him, what you offer goes beyond simple bounties or those little vials he keeps puffing on. 

You don’t know what he’s huffing, but you have some guesses. RadAway for one. It would explain how he’s managed to last as long as he has without turning feral. 

He stops, tugging out his canteen and undoing the cap. You know the break isn’t meant for your benefit but you’re grateful nonetheless. You’ve been walking so long you’re sure the bottoms of your feet are nothing but bloody stumps. 

You let your gaze drift as Lucy makes her way back to you both. Your vision blurs and you find yourself drifting as far back into your mind as you dare. You try and find a happier memory to live in so you can pretend for one minute that you’re not as miserable as you are. But Cooper ruins it. 

A sharp, wet sounding cough breaks through the haze you’d created around yourself. You turn your head slightly to stare at him. He’s got his hands braced on his knees, back arching in pain from how hard he’s coughing. You see blood and spittle flying from his lips. Both you and Lucy share a brief look. 

Your eyes dart down to the bindings on your wrist and neck, wondering how far you would be able to make it before he yanked you back. You’re about to tell Lucy to just make a run for it when he straightens up again. He lets out a deep shuddering breath, wiping his chin off with the back of his hand. 

You fix him with an unimpressed glare, “I was hoping you’d choke.”

He smirked and tugged on the rope, yanking you unceremoniously to your feet. “Better luck next time, sweetheart.”

“You,” Lucy cut herself off as she stumbled over a skeleton. Her face screwed up briefly in disgust before she continued on after you. “You need medicine, right? That’s why you’re coughing.” Cooper didn’t offer her anything more than a bored hum as he trudged along. You tried to look over at her but he was being more vigilant about the rope now that you had mouthed off. 

“If I found you some would you let her go?”

Cooper came to a sudden stop, ignoring you as you stumbled into his back. He turned towards Lucy and his hairless brows lifted up. You couldn’t tell if he was impressed by her boldness or sick of it. “Well, that’s where we’re going darling.” 

He didn’t offer anything else but a sinister smile. It wasn’t much different than his usual ones. His tone sounded ominous, like he was laughing at a joke he didn’t want to share with either of you. Lucy picked up on the veiled hidden meaning of his words and her mouth snapped shut, eyes narrowing as she tried to decipher what he meant. 

He dug his fingers underneath the rope on your neck and you hissed at the contact of the raw sunburnt skin. It only emboldened him as he dragged you forward, tucking you under his arm and forcing you to keep up with his stride. 

You felt slight satisfaction at the small coughs he would try and hide under his breath. But with your ears so close to his chest you could hear him wheeze, feel the struggle each breath caused. Every gasp makes you feel a little stronger. Even though it hurts, you glance over your shoulder at Lucy. Her eyes are trained on him, on each stumbling step. 

There’s a look shared between the two of you. A promise of waiting until he’s weakest to finally escape. You only need him to take a break again and that would be your chance. You could finally get rid of him. You don’t have to wait much longer. 

He leads you both to a Super Duper Mart. Cars have been pushed out of the way, a gate set up around the perimeter and most of the debris cleaned away. You’re assuming this is some sort of base for survivors. But that doesn’t make sense. He wouldn’t be taking you anywhere that would take care of you. 

He stops in front of a call box, pressing the button, “Transaction.”

It takes a moment before a staticky British voice answers back. “Yes?” Your brows furrow in confusion. You recognize that voice, you just don’t know how. 

Cooper glances over at Lucy and you finally put together what he’s doing. “Exchange one female, mint condition, for two month supply.” He looked her over, the sweat coating her and wounds she’d acquired over your short stay on the surface. “Near mint condition.”

“Condition requires grading, please send her in.” A buzzer goes off and the glass doors ahead of you slide open. Your gaze darts from the doors to Cooper’s. 

“You can’t-” He cuts you off with a tight grasp on your neck. It's just enough to keep you quiet and immobile. Lucy doesn’t even look surprised, just a subdued anger as she glares at him. 

“You’re selling me?” Her tone is incredulous. This was what Cooper thought was so funny earlier. This is how he gets his medicine, selling people. You’d known that he had changed from being up here, but this was insane. This went so beyond changing for the sake of survival, he looked like he was enjoying it. 

With no hesitation he tugs his gun out and points it at Lucy. She flinches back from it, staring down the large barrel with hesitance. Your attempts at breaking free are useless and draining. The leather of his glove creaks in your ear as he tightens his hold around your neck. 

“Quit your squirming,” he mutters in your ear, “what I got planned for you is much more fun.” You feel your heart drop to your feet and your struggles cease. This is pointless, struggling is pointless. Fighting back against him is pointless. You’re too weak to do anything to him, you’ll just piss him off more. You should just give up. 

He looks over at Lucy and nods towards the doors with a patronizing click of his tongue. “Go on, sweetheart. You got problems out here too, I suggest you try your luck in there.” Lucy looks to you but whatever broken thing she sees on your face is enough for her to sag in defeat. She backs towards the doors, sparing one last glance at you before taking a step inside. 

When the doors close behind her Cooper finally lets you go. The lack of support has you crumpling, you land roughly on the ground and glare up at him. “What’s going to happen to her?”

He spares you a brief glance, sneering down at you. “Diced and sliced,” he empathizes the word with a loud click of his teeth. It takes everything in you to force your spine into steel and be unflinching when he kneels down before you. He prods your chest with his gun painfully, “Your little friend is about to become meat, sweetheart. Ain’t even gonna spare her a tear?”

Your mouth is dry, parched from your long trek in the sun. But you still manage enough spit to land on his cheek. He blinks then blinks again, slow to process what you’ve done. When he does, reaching up to wipe the smear of saliva slowly off his cheek, he huffs a laugh. You don’t see the hit coming until he’s backhanding you down to the ground. 

You groan, pain throbbing in your right cheek, “Fucking dick,” you spit out. He shakes his head and stands back up. 

“I was wondering where that attitude of yours had gone. Glad to see you still got some of that fire.” He glanced down at the call box, a slight cough shaking him as he taps his foot impatiently. “The fuck is taking so damn long?” You’re clearly not meant to hear him. You doubt he wants you to perceive him as weak in any way. 

“I’m sorry,” you glower, “is my friend’s murder taking too long for you?”

“Yeah,” he scoffed, glaring over at you with his eyes narrowed and his lips curled, “it fucking is.”

Fucking asshole. 

Fear is a bitter taste on your tongue when he starts to cough again. This isn’t something small that he can swallow down. This is bad, lasting longer than should be possible and making your ears hurt with the way they echo through the air. You flinch back from him when he falls to his knees, hands grasping desperately at his throat. 

He looks over at you, something like a plea in his gaze. Dread boils and bubbles in your gut with the horrible realization that if he turns, you’ll be the first thing he sees. You’re assuming that whatever he takes stops the radiation from burning away holes in his brains. If he goes feral now, the only thing he’ll remember about you is how much aggression and hostility he holds for you. 

You’ll be ripped to fucking pieces. 

He slumps forward, hands clawing at the ground as drool dribbles from his lips. He wheezes, inhaling the red dirt as he tries to get a steady breath in. You fight back the paralyzing fear of your situation and slowly crawl towards him. He doesn’t seem to see you, his eyes glazed over with the primal panic of knowing you’re about to die. 

You reach out and snatch the knife from his waist and leap away from him again, trying to keep as much distance as you can between the two of you. Placing the handle between your knees you start to saw at the rope around your wrists. Your eyes don’t stop darting between his prostrated form on the ground and your bloody hands. You can’t risk keeping your eyes off of him for too long. You’ve grown too weak under the sun. 

If he turns, you won’t be able to fight him off. 

Agonizingly slow, you start to see the rope fray. Only a few more frantic tugs and it unwinds from around your wrists. You drop the knife to the ground, quickly loosening the noose around your neck and ripping it off. 

When you look back over at him you realize he’s gone silent. It only causes more panic to rush through you. The emotion threatens to choke you, freeze you in place and wait for the inevitable. You refuse to let it. Refuse to let him terrify you into accepting your death at his hands. 

Slowly, like you hope he won’t notice you, you creep forward. On hands and knees you drag your body towards him and reach tentatively for the belt around his waist. You groan, using what’s left of your strength to roll him over so you can better reach the gun on his hip. He does nothing but twitch and moan in response, eyes cloudy. 

You unzip the top of your suit and tie the arms around your waist then tuck the gun in your pants. Your fingers skate across his chest, groping around for any bullets you might find hidden away in his jacket or the bag he keeps across his shoulder. Whatever you manage to find is stuffed into your suit, you don’t pay much attention to what you grab. You’re just trying to get this finished as quickly as possible. 

When you’ve raided him of everything valuable you finally glance over at the glass doors. The one Lucy disappeared behind. He told you that she was going to be turned into lunch meat. He has no reason to lie to you, and you have no reason to doubt what he says. There isn’t much of you that still believes there's good left in him. 

You feel something like grief creeping up the back of your throat, burning at your eyes. But you dismiss it as quickly as it comes. You don’t have time to wallow or mourn. You need to get out of here. Lucy is gone. Crying about it isn’t going to fix anything.

You scoff, so much for her precious golden rule. 

You stand up and turn your back to him, hoping you can figure out a way back to the vault. You still have your Pip-Boy, you might be able to use the map to find your way back home. 

Fuck Hank. Fuck the surface. You were done. You wanted to shower and eat something and feel air conditioning again. 

But nothing up here is easy. 

Something wraps around your ankle and you scream, jumping away from Cooper’s hand and kicking out with your foot. His fingers make an odd cracking sound under your boot and you glare down at him. 

Out of instinct the gun in your pants is drawn and pointed down at him. His eyes don’t betray any surprise or fear. He just looks desperate. Pathetic and desperate. You pull the hammer back and move the gun from his chest to his temple. “I could put you out of your misery right here. Right now. Would you like that?”

He wheezes, barely able to move on the rough ground. Finally, he shakes his head. It’s a small move, but even now he clings on to the desperate threads of his remaining life. You huff an unimpressed laugh and glare down at him. “Stubborn fucking bastard.” You tuck the gun back in your pants and you run. 

You don’t look back. You don’t think about Hank, or Lucy, or Cooper. The people you’re leaving behind once meant something to you. But you’re selfish, and you always have been. Your survival means so much more. 

It’s only when the sun starts to set that you finally find a place to settle down for the night. It’s an old building that seems just stable enough to not come crashing down on you while you sleep. It’s also the only place nearby that doesn’t have the sounds of ghouls or other critters echoing through its foundation. 

You have no water, no food, but at the very least you can finally sit down. You debate taking your suit off, just to check on your wounds. But you figure that you’re better off not knowing the state of your body. All the adrenaline and exhaustion from the sun is keeping you going. You can’t let yourself break the illusion that everything is fine. 

You do what you’ve always done when you try to distract yourself. You let yourself fall down the rabbit hole of your memories and attempt to get lost in them. You should have known the direction they were going to go. 

Perhaps it’s a form of mourning that you start to think about Cooper. You’d assumed him dead or lost to you for years. But actually seeing it happen had opened up a wound of grief you’d thought closed. 

The good memories come first, like they always do when you think of him. The first time you met, the first time he cooked for you. They’re all innocent enough. Remembrance of the man who once was the love of your life. 

And, inevitably, comes that one memory. The one you’d thought buried a long time ago. It usually would creep up on you when you would lay with Norm at night. Alone in the bed you shared with your husband, you would think of that one night. And the yearning would bury the shame. 

You’d once reasoned with yourself that there was nothing wrong with your relationship with him because nothing ever truly happened between you two. It was a lie, a bald faced lie to yourself and to him. Something had happened, something you’d shamefully buried. 

You’d been riddled with guilt after. He was still a married man, a father, and someone you were manipulating and actively lying too. It never should have happened. You never should have gone for drinks with him. You’d known it was a mistake and you’d done it anyway. 

You pick up the handset and try - and fail - not to let your irritation show in your voice. “Hello?” You’d barely stepped through your door and your phone was about to fall off its hook. You don’t know who's calling you, but they must have been at it for a while. 

There’s a breath on the other end and you know it’s him. Isn’t that absolutely pathetic? You know him from the way he breathes. That’s not normal. How much of you is wrapped up and intertwined with him isn’t normal. Certainly not because you’re only meant to be his assistant.  

“Sorry, sweetheart, is this a bad time?”

You want to say, No, it’s never a bad time when it's you. I wished you called me more. I wish you weren’t married and I didn’t have to feel so guilty about my feelings for you. But that would be insane, so you keep your mouth shut and just say, “No, now's fine. What’s up?”

“I had plans to meet up with Seb tonight, but he canceled on me. I was wondering if you’d wanna come out for a little while?”

You should not say yes. This is a perfect opportunity to start setting boundaries within your relationship. Eating dinner and dancing with him was bad enough. Especially considering Barb could have walked in on you two at any minute. 

But, god, are you lonely. You’re tired of coming home every night to an empty apartment devoid of any life or happiness. You’re tired of feeling so gutted everytime you see a happy couple on the street and all you can think about is the married man you’re in love with. And you’re selfish. 

You always have been, since you were little. You used to get in trouble for never wanting to share your toys and being too jealous of others. You supposed, as you got older, the traits stayed but the toys changed. 

You shouldn’t say yes. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

The bar is nice, nicer than the ones you’re used to. You should’ve known that when he invited you out he wasn’t going to take you to some crappy little place where the floors are sticky and the music is too loud. The bar itself is a full circle surrounded by a shiny oak counter and nicely furnished stools that don’t have stains from beer spills. 

He’s sitting more towards the corner. It’s a higher end place, the people that come here aren’t impressed with his wealth or fame, because they’re just like him. He doesn’t have to hide here but you feel like you should. 

You’re incredibly out of place in your work skirt and blouse. It's something cheap from an outlet store that you got out of a bargain bin. It doesn’t fit in with the finely dressed women in the booths. 

But then he looks over at you, his eyes even prettier under the warm lights above him. When he waves at you, you find that you don’t really care what you’re wearing. You skirt past a couple blocking the doorway and hop onto the seat beside him. 

He smiles at you, but you can tell there’s something weighing him down. A sadness in his eyes that makes you want to reach out and comfort him. Instead, you flag down the bartender and offer Cooper a brief smile. “Sorry Seb canceled on you.”

He shakes his head, tossing the olive from his martini into his mouth. “Did me a favor.” At the questioning look you give him he grins. A real one this time. “I’ve got much better company now, darling.”

You resent the heat that flushes in your face. You don’t want to feel like a crushing school girl, you’re a grown woman for god’s sake. But he just brings something youthful out around you. Replaces what your soul-sucking corporate job has stolen from you. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Howard.” 

You expect him to give into the usual routine. A bit of playful banter to get rid of the tension and then you two can talk like normal. You don’t expect his hand on your thigh and the way he leans in to whisper in your ear, “I think it will get me everywhere, sweetheart.”

It catches you off guard, the boldness of his words, his completely public display of affection. Everyone knows you’re his assistant, you’ve been in enough photoshoots with him at red carpets. Admittedly, more than you should have been in. 

But then you look up, and you really take in the place that you’re at. The bar is well lit, but the booths in the back have dimmer lighting. It makes it harder to see the people who sit there. But you recognize them well enough. Figures with wives and families that are recognizable to the public’s eyes. Except the women they’re with aren’t their wives. 

You connect the dots slowly, not quite wanting to believe what you’re seeing but also desperate for it. You can’t lie, a part of you is disappointed in him. Most of his charm, his attraction comes from what a good man he is. How devoted he is. The fact that he invited you somewhere like this makes you feel cheap. 

You feel like one of those women who purposefully goes after married men. But that had never been the plan and that had never been your type. Cooper was such a rare exception to your usual dates and interests. Now you just feel dirty. 

But it also doesn’t fit who he is at his core. You look over at him and finally get a really good look at him. His hand is on your thigh, there’s a suggestive undertone to his voice. But it doesn’t fit with his face. His eyes are too sad, the stubborn downward pull of his lips gives away his mood and cracks away the mask he was trying to wear. 

You shift minutely, dropping his hand from you and turning to fully face him. “What’s wrong with you?” There’s no point in dancing around the question. 

His eyes widen and he moves away from you, laughing slightly as he does. “You know me better than I give you credit for.” You give him a bored hum and motion for him to continue. He sighs, ordering another drink, and finally speaks. “Barb took Janey to her mom’s for the week.”

You try to keep your expression neutral but you know you’re failing miserably from the self-deprecating laugh he lets out. Things have been tense between them, it’s gotten worse ever since he went to one of those Hollywood against Vault-Tec meetings. You don’t know what he heard there, but it was enough to make him a lot more hostile towards your company and Barb by extension. 

You can’t count how many of their fights you’ve accidentally interrupted lately. 

You should feel sympathetic towards him, but it only pisses you off. You scoff and he frowns, surprised by your reaction. “So, what, Barb wants a break and you decide to fuck your assistant? Seems a bit cliche, even for you.”

He looks slightly dumbfounded by the suggestion. He shakes his head but at your continued glare finally looks around and realizes the message he’s sent across. He groans, head falling into his hand. “That is not what I wanted, sweetheart.” He looks up at you with a sheepish smile but it almost feels condescending. “I just wanted to talk somewhere that I knew we wouldn't be photographed. You know ever since that article about us we have to be more careful in public.”

You feel embarrassed, and you shouldn't. Anyone in your position probably would have assumed the same thing. That he had less than honorable intentions by bringing you here. But there’s a needling feeling in your gut, questioning the hand on your thigh and the way he’d looked at you. You try and dismiss it, passing it off as him just being too friendly when he has a couple drinks. 

You let out an embarrassed groan and turn away from him, “I’m sorry, I just assumed-”

He laughs, taking your hand in his and turning you to look at him. “It’s alright, I probably should have thought this out before I called you over.”

You hadn’t realized the bartender had brought you a drink until Cooper slides it over to you. It’s a peace offering and an apology when he clinks his glass against yours. You smile at him and take a sip, finally letting yourself relax. 

You should never relax. Ever. You make the worst damn decisions in the world when you’re not tense and constantly aware of everything around you. 

Honestly, you blame the bartender. He kept bringing you and Cooper more and more drinks until everything was covered in an alcohol induced haze. You’ve never made good decisions tipsy.

Apparently, neither does Cooper. 

You don’t feel like yourself, and he doesn’t feel like him. You’re not the lying bitch who's going to ruin this whole thing in a few months. He’s not Cooper Howard, the husband, the actor, the success. He’s just Cooper. 

Your Cooper. 

You giggle as you stumble into the hotel room. Because of course this place has a hotel above it. Probably for the same salacious reasons you’re about to use it for. His hands are grasping at your waist, rucking your shirt up until it’s untucked from your skirt. 

Your fingers are frantic, rushed and uncoordinated as you tug at the buttons of his shirt. He chuckles against your lips as you break away from him. Frowning down at the impossible shirt. Gently, he eases your hands away from him and undoes the buttons himself. 

You’re pleasantly surprised when he takes his shirt off. You knew he had to keep in shape for his roles, but you didn’t expect him to be so fit. He doesn’t let you admire him for long, not ready to be parted from you even for a second. He surges forward, hands clasped tightly around your cheeks and lips devouring your own. 

You fall into the kiss, nails digging into his shoulders as you open your mouth to him. His hands find the bottom of your shirt, gently tugging it up. But you don’t want gentle, don’t have the time for it. Because in the back of your head there is a little voice whispering how wrong this is. 

The longer you wait, the louder it gets. You take your shirt from him, yanking it up and over your head. Then you shimmy out of your skirt and reach for his belt. If he’s surprised by the speed in your movements or the desperation of them he doesn’t say anything. Which you’re grateful for. 

You’re just drunk enough for this to be okay, but if you sober up anymore you’ll leave. You don’t want to leave. You don’t want to feel the guilt. You just want to feel him. 

There’s a brief trip as you both stumble over the clothes littered across the ground. And then you’re falling onto the bed, into each other. You don’t stop kissing him, just beckon him closer with open legs and guide his hips towards yours. 

He parts from you then, backing off and looking like he wants to say something. But you don’t let him. You surge up to kiss him again, drawing him forward until he’s thrusting into you. There’s a stretch, it borders on uncomfortable. But you’ve been waiting for this for so long, for him, that you don’t need much more than him kissing you to be ready. 

Still, the feeling of him inside you borders on too much. All of it is too much, too overwhelming. This aching need inside you to consume him, have him, is nearly painful. It’s almost like a punishment for yourself. You don’t deserve something pure and good and untainted. You deserve this. Deep thrusts that cause you to keen and wince. 

He mumbles praises against your neck, how good you feel, how long he’s wanted this. It almost makes you want to cry. And you don’t know why. You don’t know why this is affecting you so much. But you can’t listen to him anymore. You can’t hear how good you feel when all you feel is dirty and desperate. 

You kiss him again, so you don’t have to look at him or hear him. You just picture yourself being somewhere else. Somewhere where this whole thing isn’t so horrible and you can be happy with him without feeling guilty. 

Your brain numbs, gives into the gentle motion of him moving inside you. The pain disappears and the pleasure builds slowly. In your toes, traveling its way up your legs and squeezing around you until it explodes into something blinding. You let the wave crest and wash you away, forgetting all about what was wrong in the first place. 

You must have fallen asleep at some point. When you wake up, it’s still dark outside and there’s something heavy wrapped around your waist. Your head pounds from the lingering buzz of alcohol that’s quickly fading. 

You look down at Cooper, how peaceful he looks resting against you. You feel something deep and aching building in your gut. You don’t know what it is. Desire, pain? It doesn’t matter. You choke on a sob, covering your mouth so you don’t wake him up as the tears start to pour. 

What the fuck did you just do?

You’re snapped awake by the sound of cussing. Your hands go to the gun resting on your waist but it’s too late. Four men surround you. You tilt your head, taking in their outfits and frowning. Where the hell did they get deputy outfits? Did they raid a Halloween store or something?

The mental image is enough to make you laugh and they don’t take too kindly to that. One of them kneels down in front of you, scowling. “Yur under arrest,” the accent is heavy and only makes you laugh more. 

“Yeah, on whose authority, Spirit Halloween?”

He rips his glasses off and you curl into yourself from how hard you laugh. He glares at you through crossed eyes, “The government.” You're still laughing when they tie a rope around you. Maybe you’ve finally lost it. 

The sun got to you and you’re having a heat stroke. Because even though you’re going from one captor to another, you can’t stop laughing. And it’s not pissing them off anymore. If anything they’re starting to look scared. 

But you can’t bring yourself to care. There’s a manic feeling rising in your chest, ripping through your sternum and suffocating you. You want to cry, you want to laugh or rip out your hair. You don’t know what's happening or what's wrong with you. But clearly they don’t want to deal with it. 

One of them comes up behind you and hits you with the handle of his pistol. There’s a sharp pain and then everything is black. 

“I could leave you here.” Lucy scoffs and glares down at him. It’s hard to hear her, everything around him is swimming. His heart is beating so frantically inside his head he’s sure it’s going to explode. “I should leave you here, after what you did to me.”

She glances around and seems to finally realize her little friend is missing. “Where is she?”

He’s got nothing for her but a wheeze, it’s all he can manage to get out. He’s fighting right now to stay sane. To not see her as anything more than meat or food. She sighs and kneels in front of him. In her hand are three vials of everything he needs right now to live. 

More drool dribbles from his lips and he tries to reach for them but his hand just twitches. Lucy places them in front of his face and stands back up. “Golden rule, motherfucker.” 

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. 

It’s ironic that that’s what saves him. Her goddamn golden rule is the only thing to keep him tethered to the world of the sane. 

He takes in a deep rasping breath. He forces any strength he has left into his arm and slowly drags it across the dirt. The process of moving is painstaking and nearly futile. He’s at the point of desperation where his body is no longer cooperating with him.

Eventually, he manages to shuffle the vial into his inhaler. One is enough to get his breathing regulated. He needs all three just to get his fingers to twitch when he needs them too. He finally manages to scrape himself off the ground. 

Dirt has buried itself into the grooves of his skin, caked in further by his own drool. He’ll feel disgusted later. Right now, his legs are moving on pure instinct to where he knows more vials wait for him. 

He’ll think of you later. Of your escape. What he’ll do with you will all come later. As soon as he’s had just a little bit more medicine and numbed his brain with other illicit substances. He doesn’t want to think now. Doesn’t want to consider what would have happened if it had been his fate in your hands and not Lucy’s. 

When he wakes up it’s alone. Sun peaks through the curtains and he moves his hand blindly across the bed. When he doesn’t feel anything but a cold sheet he sits up and stares at the spot you once inhabited. 

There’s still a groove where you’d laid, a wrinkle in the sheets is the only sign that you were ever here. He sits up, looking around the room. There’s a little bit of hope that maybe you were just in the shower or hiding somewhere for some odd reason. 

You’re gone, though, clothes picked up off the floor and heels no longer by the door. He sighs, rubbing his chest to soothe the ache. He shouldn’t be disappointed. He should be ashamed. He should be disgusted with himself right now. 

He can’t be, all he feels is this deep aching sadness that he didn’t get the chance to wake up next to you. The drive home is lonely, almost shameful. 

He’d paid for the hotel room, he couldn’t look the man in the eye as he did. All he could think about was you, sneaking out. Running away from him. Why? Were you ashamed?

It was his fault. He knew what he was doing when he invited you to this place. He knew what it meant. But Barb had left and he was lonely in the too big house. He’d just wanted to see you because he knew it would make him feel better. And it did. 

You always made him so much happier. He just doesn’t know why you would leave like that. He gets home, tossing his keys in the bowl by the door and walking into the kitchen. He’s got a lingering headache from the drinks last night and a pain in his stomach from not eating anything. 

He knows he shouldn’t, it’s too early in the day, but he pours himself another drink. He doesn’t know what else to do, doesn’t know how to get you out of his head and the taste of you off his tongue. 

The phone rings beside him and he jumps for it. Maybe it’s you, apologizing for leaving and explaining there was an emergency. Or maybe you’d just left to get breakfast and returned to the room to find him gone. 

“Coop?” His stomach drops and he lets out a heavy sigh. 

There should be some sliver of anxiety that it’s his wife on the other line. He should be worried that she’ll hear the guilt in his voice and know something is wrong. But there's only stark disappointment that it isn’t you. 

He hums, not enough energy to try and speak with her right now. “I’m coming home early. I want to talk, I want to work this out.”

No, she doesn’t. She just wants to keep him under control. She realized if she’d strayed too far that the leash would loosen. He doesn’t bother responding, just hums again then hangs up. He needs to shower and get rid of the smell of your perfume on him. 

He’s reluctant to do it, wanting to hold on to the last bit of you he has. He sighs, runs a hand over his face and shakes his head. 

Why would you leave?

end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

Gosh this is so good 😭😭

I love the way you write the both self deprecating yet also cocky and confident Ghoul, it comes off really well in this fic!

I can't wait to see more, and also the way you write Reader is so cool, the way she's dealing with her trauma in the fic is captivating and realistic.

Awesome writing!!

From A Previous Life (Pt 2)

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Preg!Reader

Summary: You find comfort in your routine with the Ghoul, but an evening of bonding turns into harsh realizations.

Warnings: Emotional hurt/comfort, pregnancy, non-detailed talk about experimentations, angst, grief, more flirting (less squinting),

Word Count: 3.5K

A/N: The second part to what was a one-shot but the responses were so overwhelmingly lovely about it that I just had to write more! I have more ideas for these two because they break my heart, so part 3 will be happening next week :) I'd love to know what you think 💌

Part 1

A routine had solidified between you both, born out of necessity in this unforgiving landscape. Each day, you travelled further through the barren wasteland, seeking refuge in abandoned structures come evening. As the sun dipped below the horizon, you gathered around the crude fire, its flickering flames casting dancing shadows on the worn walls of whatever shelter you'd found. It was a skill your companion had imparted through countless arduous nights, a beacon of warmth and security in the darkness.

With the day's journey behind you, you would compare your spoils. Tins of pork and beans, salvaged copper, and screws—valuable commodities in the market of survival. Occasionally, luck would smile upon you, offering a giant mole rat to add to the evening stew. It wasn't gourmet by any means, but a welcomed reprieve from the Ghoul's ever-present jerky stowed away in his saddlebag like a grim reminder of the world you now inhabited.

Few words had been exchanged between you. You'd come to understand that the Ghoul valued silence, speaking only when necessary, and expected the same from his companion. He had provided a brief summary of the world's changes over the past two centuries, yet remained guarded when pressed for further details about his own involvement. Despite your efforts, he remained as enigmatic as when he first found you.

Despite the grim reality surrounding you, you found comfort in the routine. Far removed from the life you once knew before the war, you still managed to extract a glimmer of joy from the simple act of preparing the evening meal. With meagre resources at your disposal—a small iron pot, a battered ladle, and two cracked but serviceable dishes—you endeavoured to create sustenance that mimicked the warmth of a homecooked meal, even in these bleak times.

The Ghoul stood as your protector, his watchful presence having undoubtedly spared you from peril on numerous occasions during your brief time together. Cooking was a way to prove your  significance in your partnership, no matter how seemingly insignificant it may appear.

The heavy thud of boots and clink of spurs against wood jolted you from your thoughts, the ladle in your hand halting its rhythmic stirring of the broth as you cast a wary glance towards the doorway. It wasn't the first time he had left you alone, deeming it safer to venture into the bustling towns without the added complication of a young woman in tow. He had armed you with a revolver and a combat knife, imparting what little training he could in their use, but you couldn't shake the feeling that his trust in your abilities extended only as far as your loyalty not to run in his absence.

"Well, that smell's delicious," drawled the Ghoul, his figure framed in the doorway, hat tipped low over his scarred features. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and you couldn't help but return it, the warmth of his presence a rare comfort after just an hour alone.

"Did you get them?"

"You doubted me?" He teased, stepping towards you and offering out a small cloth bag. You accepted it eagerly, peeking inside at the plump, juicy tomatoes nestled within.

You wasted no time in incorporating the fresh produce into your cooking, the aroma of the simmering fruit mingling with the savoury scent of the meat in the broth. Seated together by the fire, the weathered dining chairs offering a semblance of normalcy, you couldn't help but inquire about his expedition.

"Did everything go alright?" you asked, eyeing him cautiously as he slumped back in his chair, a groan escaping his cracked lips as he stretched out.

"Hunky dory," he sighed, his voice tinged with sarcasm, head back and fingers entwined over his stomach. You could tell he was lying, noticing the slight clench of his jaw and his reluctance to meet your gaze. 

It was a tell that you had picked up on in your short time together, one that betrayed his otherwise stoic resolve. For some reason, the Ghoul had taken to concealing parts of the truth from you. Maybe he thought you were too weak, too naïve, or perhaps he simply didn't want to subject himself to further questioning. Regardless, it had begun to grate on your nerves. While you appreciated his protection, you couldn't afford to remain in the dark about so much in this dangerous world.

"I'm coming with you next time," you declared, your gaze unwavering as you stirred the pot, the clinks of metal against metal punctuating your determination. "Two guns are better than one."

A playful glint danced in his eyes as he countered, "Not when you're the one holding it." Yet, the lightness in his tone ebbed away, leaving a hard undercurrent. "Already told you no."

There was a flicker of frustration that passed across your features, but you held his gaze firmly, refusing to back down. "And I've already told you not to underestimate me," you retorted, the fire of conviction burning in your words.

His eyes narrowed as he leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees, bringing his face closer to yours. A furrow creased his brow, his gaze intense as he pointed a finger towards your growing belly.

"And you underestimate everyone else," he admonished, his voice edged with concern. "You think those vultures would take one look at you, at that cargo you're carryin', and let you walk on by? It's every man for himself out here, sweetheart, and the wasteland makes a man do terrible things. You're a commodity, and it's best you not forget it."

His words hung heavy in the air, the weight of the truth settling upon you like a leaden cloak. Despite your defiance, his words struck a chord of fear within you, a reminder of the harsh realities of the world beyond the safety of the little sanctuary you have cultivated together.

The ladle slipped from your grasp, forgotten, as your trembling hands instinctively hugged your pregnant belly. Tears welled in your eyes, threatening to spill over, as the weight of his words settled heavily upon your shoulders. A commodity. That's what you and your unborn child had been reduced to in this unforgiving world, one that felt alien and hostile, yet one you were forced to confront day in and day out.

Anger simmered within you, a fierce blaze fuelled by resentment towards those who had stripped you of your former life, of the safety and belonging you had once taken for granted. And though you knew it was irrational, a pang of ungratefulness gnawed at your conscience, directed towards your reluctant protector for the loss of the freedom you so desperately yearned for.

In that moment, amidst the swirling emotions and the harsh reality of your circumstances, you felt an overwhelming sense of isolation, as if you were adrift in a sea of uncertainty with no safe harbour in sight. Perhaps even the promised haven would prove to be a deception, like the vault you had been a prisoner in for so many years. Yet, for the sake of your child, you couldn't afford to surrender to despair. Hope would become your anchor, however fragile.

With a firm resolve, you brushed away the tears before they could show your vulnerability, steeling yourself against the torrent of emotions threatening to engulf you. Turning your attention back to the bubbling broth, you scooped two large servings into the worn bowls, the aroma of simmering spices mingling with the heaviness in the air.

Handing one bowl to your companion, you found him slumped back in his chair, his weathered face illuminated by the flickering glow of the fire. His fingers traced the jagged contours of scars etched deep into his weathered face. A palpable aura of silent desperation hung around him like a shroud, casting a shadow over the dimly lit room.

Tucking into your meals in silence, the rhythmic clinking of spoons against bowls filled the room, a familiar melody that spoke volumes without the need for words. Each bite was a small reprieve from the harsh reality that surrounded you, a momentary escape from the relentless cruelty that had become all too familiar.

His voice, barely a whisper, cut through the quietude of the room, laden with a heavy weight of remorse. "I've upset you," he confessed, the words hanging in the air.

You looked up from your meal, meeting his gaze with a mixture of exhaustion and resignation. Despite the turmoil within you, there was a flicker of understanding in your eyes as you acknowledged his veiled apology. 

"It's not just you," you replied, your voice tinged with weariness. 'I just feel so useless. I can't protect myself or by baby, can't help you without being a burden. I feel like I have no control.'

He nodded, his expression grave as he processed your raw admission of vulnerability and contemplated what to do next. Setting both bowls aside, he reached into a sack he had brought back from the town, his movements deliberate and methodical. From within the depths of the bag, he withdrew a familiar metal gadget, its sleek design reminiscent of the cuffs you had seen the scientists wear during your captivity.

Your breath caught in your throat as memories of your ordeal flooded back, the sensation of cold surgical equipment against your skin sending shivers down your spine. They had treated you like nothing more than a lab rat, subjecting you to experiments and tests that had left scars, both physical and emotional, that may never fully heal.

As he held the device in his hands, his gaze softened, a silent acknowledgment of the pain and trauma you had endured. "I know what this represents," he murmured, his voice heavy with remorse and a tinge of anger. "But it can give you the control you've been denied for so long."

His words hung in the air, laden with the weight of possibility and hope. And as he extended the cuff towards you, offering you a chance to reclaim a measure of agency in a world that had sought to strip it away, you knew that this was more than just a piece of technology—it was a gift, a symbol of resilience. With trembling hands, you reached out to accept it, a silent vow echoing in the depths of your soul: never again would you allow yourself to be reduced to nothing more than a pawn in someone else's game.

As the cuff clicked shut around your wrist, its surprisingly light weight belied the bulk of its appearance. You found yourself staring down at the blank screen, uncertainty knotting your stomach as you grappled with the unfamiliarity of the device. The Ghoul, ever the steady presence beside you, reached over and deftly twisted a knob at the side of the device.

In an instant, the screen came alive with vibrant green text, welcoming you to Vault Tec. An animated image of the grinning mascot of the vaults, a sight you had come to loathe, greeted you with a cheery thumbs-up. You couldn't help but sneer at the sight, the irony not lost on you as the Ghoul swiftly navigated through the interface, replacing the obnoxious Vault Boy with a menu that offered a dizzying array of options.

"It'll take some understanding, but you'll get it in time," the Ghoul reassured you, his voice a steady anchor amidst the chaos of information overload. "The important part is the Geiger counter—it'll keep you out of trouble you didn't even know was there."

Your attention was drawn to the right of the device where a dosimeter's needle bobbed with the steady wave of radiation through the air. Another twist of the knob and on the screen appeared a walking depiction of Vault Boy, displayed percentages accompanying each limb. Below him, a nearly empty bar filled only with a small green block indicated the radiation count of the user. After weeks spent on the unforgiving surface, it came as no surprise that you had been touched by the poison that tainted it.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the hum of the device on your wrist. Looking up, you met the Ghoul's gaze, gratitude shining in your eyes.

Those words didn't do justice to the gift that he'd given you — it was a lifeline, a tool that held the power to protect not only yourself but also your unborn child. It wasn't a weapon meant for moments of attack, as the revolver he demanded you carry on your hip was, but it was equally essential in its own right. The significance of being able to monitor and mitigate the dangers that lurked in the new world was not lost on you. It wasn't just about surviving anymore; it was about thriving, about carving out a future for your child in a world that had become a battleground for survival. One day, the Ghoul would not be there to protect either of you.

"It must have cost so much," you continued, a note of wonder in your voice, and he simply shrugged in response.

"Always something to be bartered in the wasteland," he replied nonchalantly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he cleared his throat. "Don't go crying again, now. You'll give me a bad name."

You chuckled softly. Wiping at your wet eyes with the back of your hand, you couldn't help but shake your head in amusement. "It's the hormones, I swear," you joked, a smile playing at the corners of your lips.

He seemed amused by your explanation, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he gave you a knowing look. Instead of arguing, he simply winked at you, and you felt a flutter in your belly—you brushed it off as a small, subtle reminder of the life growing within you.

"Got any more of that stew?" he asked, his tone light and teasing as he reached for his bowl, a twinkle of mischief dancing in his blue eyes.

You couldn't help but laugh, the tension of the moment dissipating like smoke in the wind. "Of course," you replied, ladling some more stew into his bowl. "I'm glad you like it."

"Oh, it's been many years since I've had a homecooked meal," he told you, his tone tinged with nostalgia as he tucked into his food with relish.

You smiled warmly at his words, a sense of pride swelling within you despite the simplicity of the meal you had managed to put together. It may not have been a lavish feast, but the fact that you could provide him with a taste of home filled you with a quiet sense of satisfaction.

"Maybe we could get some vegetables next time. Carrots maybe," you suggested, a hint of excitement in your voice.

He hummed approvingly through his mouthful, nodding in agreement. "Saw some fine-lookin' turnips on my way out of town too. Reckon you can do anything with those?"

Your eyes lit up with inspiration. "Turnip and carrot mash. We could get some milk from a Brahmin, make it nice and creamy."

He licked his lips, a spark of anticipation igniting in his eyes as he set down his empty bowl. "Well now, that's just given me something to look forward to."

The two of you talked well into the night, the crackling of the fire providing a comforting backdrop to your conversation. You noticed a shift in the Ghoul's demeanour as the topic veered towards plans for future meals and the road ahead, his tense posture easing as time went on.

Determined to keep his attention and the mood still light, you regaled him with tales of your life before, weaving together anecdotes from your childhood and high school years with a touch of self-deprecating humour. He listened with genuine interest, his deep laughter ringing out like a balm to soothe the ache of your weary soul.

You found yourself deliberately steering the conversation away from his own past, choosing to focus instead on the light hearted memories of your own. You spoke of your best friend Patti, with whom you had been inseparable, recounting the antics and adventures that had filled your days. You mentioned how close you had become, so much so that you had even moved into houses next door to each other and planned out each meticulous part of your lives..

However, you made a conscious decision not to mention your husband, feeling a pang of uncertainty as to why. Perhaps it was a desire to keep Glenn and your companion separate in your mind, two distinct chapters of your life that you were reluctant to intertwine for some unbeknownst reason. Or maybe it was a subconscious attempt to shield yourself from the painful memories that lingered just beneath the surface. 

Regardless of the reason, you found solace in the simplicity of the moment, in the shared laughter and camaraderie that felt like a bond forging between you both. This was the most that the Ghoul had spoken to you in the weeks since you'd started traveling with him, and you relished the comfort that it brought you. Despite the superficial nature of the conversation, there was a sense of intimacy in the shared laughter and you felt giddy at the prospect of you both becoming more than strangers to each other.

When a yawn escaped you, the Ghoul smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he nodded towards the makeshift beds you had prepared earlier that afternoon. Two tattered twin mattresses salvaged from the wreckage of a long-forgotten room, a decent width apart and covered with old, vermin-chewed sheets. It wasn't glamorous by any means, but it was a far cry better than some of the makeshift sleeping arrangements you had been resigned to during your journey through the wasteland.

"Go get. That's enough jaw flappin' for one night," he teased, a playful glint in his eye. Despite his jest, there was affection in his smile, a silent reassurance that you were safe and perhaps even cared for in his company.

With a chuckle, you nodded in agreement, feeling the weight of exhaustion settling over you like a heavy blanket. Rising from your seat by the fire, you made your way towards the makeshift beds, the promise of a few hours of rest beckoning you like a siren's call.

The unwelcome pest of a thought nagged at you, persistent until you found yourself unable to ignore it any longer. With a determined resolve, you moved back towards the Ghoul, your steps fuelled by a sense of urgency you couldn't quite explain. Ignoring the look of alarm that flickered across his face, you leaned over awkwardly as he sat in his chair, and wrapped your arms around him in a brief but heartfelt embrace.

For a fleeting moment, the world seemed to stand still as you felt the surprising warmth of his strong arms around you, the comforting weight of your pregnant belly nestled between you serving as a tangible reminder of the life growing within you. You wanted to thank him, to tell him that this simple gesture meant more to you than words could express—that it was the most human you had felt since thawing from that cryo-chamber all those weeks ago.

But before you could find the words, your thoughts were shattered by the rapid clicking of the dosimeter. Startled, you pulled back, confusion clouding your features as you looked down at the device on your wrist, its needle flitting erratically with each click.

As you glanced between the dosimeter and the Ghoul, a sense of realization began to dawn on you. His eyes remained downcast, his expression unreadable, but the sudden silence of the dosimeter spoke volumes.

In that moment, the pieces began to click into place, like a puzzle slowly revealing its hidden picture. You knew that everything on the surface was a danger, that radiation flooded every inch of land and contaminated everything it touched. Every mouthful of food you took, every swig of water, every wash of your body—each was a necessary risk in the struggle for survival.

But naively, you hadn't stopped to consider the threat that the Ghoul posed—not beyond the immediate danger of him putting a gun to your head or the possibility of him selling you to the highest bidder.

As the suffocating realization settled over you, you felt the overwhelming sense of isolation creep back in, wrapping around you like a vice. Your protector was also your potential killer, and he had wanted to ensure you had a Pip-Boy—to keep you out of trouble you didn't even know existed.

He had given you the knowledge, the control, to make your own findings and decisions, all for the sake of your unborn child. And yet, despite his intentions, you couldn't help but feel a hint of betrayal. You almost wished you could have remained blissfully ignorant about this particular aspect of life on the surface. It was as if you had lost a friend you hadn't really ever had.

"You keep that thing on," he said with a hint of sadness, pointing to your wrist. The only acknowledgement of what just happened. You nodded silently, your hand instinctively running over the cool metal of the Pip-Boy before you turned away.

"Goodnight," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you retreated to your bed. With each step, the weight of the truth bore down on you, a heavy burden you would carry with you as you drifted into a troubled sleep, haunted by the knowledge that even in this new world, friendship was a luxury you could ill afford.

Taglist: @cheshirecat484