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dazed-and-confused23 · 3 days

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Dear Hearts and Gentle People 11

Summary: You come down with a bad case of some type of sickness. You feel like death, but Cooper has always thought that the common cold made people dramatic.

Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader

Warnings: none really? Fluff and kissing.

Masterlist

Cooper sighs quietly when he hears you sneeze for the upteenth time today. A rare storm had blown in a couple of days ago, and the two of you, plus Dusty, had gotten trapped in the pouring rain. The deathclaw, now eye level with you, had loved the water dripping down his hot scales, and even Cooper had tilted his face up toward the dark clouds. But you? You hated the rain and have been miserable ever since the storm.

"Coop. We gotta stop somewhere," you say, and even the ghoul has to admit that you do sounds like shit. He comes to a stop, and you stumble into him, having not been paying attention. Dusty makes some concerned grunts, but Cooper waves the beast away with a roll of his eyes.

"Baby girl, we still have three more miles 'fore we reach Goodsprings. We can rest when we get there," Cooper told her and curled an arm around your waist, casting his eyes away from the furious pout you sent him.

You sigh loudly, and the harsh breath sends you into a coughing fit when it tickles your throat. Cooper rubs your back as you hack and spit up some nasty mucas, a low groan escaping you as your body aches from whatever sickness that's taken hold of you.

The next three miles feel like hell, but the ghoul gets you to Goodsprings before you pass out in the desert. Dusty takes off to go hunt, and the two of you end up cooped up in one of the old houses on the edge of town. You shiver and clutch the thin blanket closer to your body, shaking from the chill that won't leave your bones.

Cooper eyes you, hip cocked, "Do you really feel that bad, Sugar?"

You glare at him from the middle of your blanket cocoon, "I feel like I'm dying."

He scoffs at you and closes the distance between the two of you and shrugs out of his ratty duster before he plops on the couch beside you. Cooper opens his arms and waits for you to scramble into them, his chin resting on top of your head and his arms curling tight around your blanket cocoon.

"Poor, pitiful girl," Cooper coos, and you pout at the teasing tone in his voice. It wasn't your fault that the ghoul couldn't get sick, and you could.

Over the next couple of days, Cooper does his best to take care of his poor trader. You moan and groan, a big achy mess, but you always make sure to tell your ghoul how much you appreciate him taking care of you.

"You're the best nurse ever, Coop," you rasp when he hands you a bottle of cooled purified water. The ghoul rolls his eyes at his sickly smoothskin and runs his fingers through your hair.

"Only for you, Darlin'," Cooper drawls and leans down to kiss you softly. You were a handful, but you were his handful.

#cooper howard #fallout #fallout prime #fallout tv series #cooper howard x reader #x reader #the ghoul x reader #dear hears and gentle people #deathclaws

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bellonathedragonborn · 14 days

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Bethesda is not trying to make the West look like the East coast in terms of appearance and lifestyle.

The only time we see a Fallout 4 or 3 like town is Filly and that’s a one time thing. Yeah it doesn’t make sense but it’s similar to Junktown.

As for the idea that since Shady Sands was bombed that means the entire West coast was knocked down to how it was during Fallout 1. Shady Sands is only one city in the NCR. Yeah it was the first capital but the survivors are doing well in Vault 4 and will probably rebuild one day. We also never see the rest of the Boneyard or other NCR places. So Reno, San Fran, Arroyo, etc are most likely still okay.

As for New Vegas Strip it relied heavily on tourism and trade from California. So it makes sense it would suffer. If the theories are true and House won the game then the destruction could be from citizens from the other parts of New Vegas tired of how the Strip acts. Again, NV is only one city in Nevada. Goodsprings and other towns are probably okay.

The term “War never changes” applies with this show as well. Yes the West Coast rebuilt but all it takes is the cycle of violence to spark and it’s back to square one for some people.

#fallout tv series #fallout Tv show #fallout #fallout nv #fallout new vegas #NCR #new california republic

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acroagoraphobe · 16 days

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What Makes a Man a Monster.

Chapter 2: Normal To The Human Eye?

(Gonna do a much longer chapter this time. Enjoy this trainwreck!!)

After an estimated few hours, Sixer stirred once again after rolling roughly down the hill from the Goodsprings Cemetery so... Unceremoniously. It was genuinely pathetic for a being of his status of omnipotence. He picked his ass up and stumbled towards a nearby saloon, dragging his still blood soaked boots as he walked. He didn't have time to read the sign or look back at the people giving him horrified looks of a man seemingly walking off being shot twice in the head. Everyone heard the gunshots in the night, but no one bothered to check what it was, so they didn't have to risk their own asses.

This was absolutely not the average day for the various folks in the bar, seeing a man with two gaping holes drilling through his head, saunter on in like it was just his average day. Hell, looking only slightly annoyed even. It was genuinely difficult to tell due to all the blood and bits of brain splattered across his face. No one even dared to approach Sixer as he sat down in a booth, fearing they'd seen death himself. But before you could blink.. he looked fine again, Although the blood still made his shirt stick to him and yes it's as uncomfortable as ever.

Blood dripped down his face and onto his neck, Making his clothes more ruined than they already were. Covered in dirt, muck and.. By the Lord whatever the hell else. That ratty old tank top he wore stuck to his skin and was honestly more of an inconvenience to him than the gunshot wounds in his head. The dusty old floorboards creaked beneath his boots, their dry, dead appearance getting dotted with bloody dust... or dusty blood. Because there's obviously a difference between the two.. Totally. But either way, Sixer was a fucking mess. Dirty, bloody, and dusty, walking into a bar.

The seat creaked beneath him as he sat down in the old booth in the dark corner of the bar, Sixer began to asses his situation. His bag was gone, his gun was gone, And worst of all, his damn dignity was gone. Not like he really had it in the first place, but still.

Soon enough one of the folks in the bar grew interested in this man, Sitting down in the booth across him. A woman with a dog that followed around at her ankles despite it's size and that It could very easily trip her. "What the hell happened to a newcomer like you all the way out here?" Her voice questioned Sixer, Who had to pretend he didn't already know her name. Sunny Smiles. He had to wait and be polite for her to actually introduce herself. Ah, the akwardness of omnipotence is.. greatly annoying. She looked so upbeat despite seeing a man covered in his own blood and chunks of brain.

[ Lot's of reasons I'm out here, none of them I can really explain. ]

And they did. They always did, so predictable.

Sixer uttered, with a voice unknown to him, but well known to everyone around him. Sunny looked slightly suspicious but kept that same smile on her face. It was damn annoying how nice she was, at least to Sixer. But a lot of people were annoying.. People are very simple minded creatures. All he had to do was wait for the usual "You better not cause any trouble then." words to come out of Sunny's mouth. It's always what people said when he came around like this.

[Not planning on it, I just want to get a drink then hike my ass outta here.]

"Well, Let's hope you don't cause any trouble around here. We're a peaceful little town here." Sunny Smiles said with caution, her dog looked a lot less trustful of Sixer. Well.. more like it wanted to maul him. Dogs hated him.

Sixer responded to her statement, before he remembered his lack of caps.. or anything to his name.

[Or not, Forgot I have.. No caps whatsoever.]

Sixer muttered under his breath as he shifted in his seat. blood continued to drip down onto his clothing, but it was from his nose, not his head.

"Well, since you seem to be pretty down on your luck here.. I can get you a drink this once. Since youre new here." She smiled, standing up and talking to the woman tending the bar. Sixer knew her name too, but it wasn't exactly relevant. Sunny placed down a few caps at the counter and came back with a beer in hand, setting it on the table Sixer was sat at.

[Thanks, I'll be out of your hair soon, Don't worry.]

Sixer took a swig of the beer and took a deep breath. He had no idea where to go.

#ace blurbs #what makes a man a monster #Chapter 2 #Fallout new vegas fanfic #fanfiction #fallout new vegas #fallout #fnv #fallout nv #fallout oc #courier six #Sixer #//#The narrator may be a person in the story #Still deciding that #:3

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the-laridian · 6 months

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(2022) Fallout New Vegas - Vault jumpsuit and accoutrements for being fresh out of the Vault and ending up near Goodsprings.

Not shown since I'm covering my actual face, a very good bullet scar on the temple :D Yeah I'm cosplaying Gunnar Volk, hence the 24 on the suit - I've always believed Gunnar came out of Vault 24.

Anyway, I made the props, did the makeup on the scar, put together the Vault suit with its shiny gold trim and numbers. Pro tip: Do not attempt to make your own Pipboy. I did it, but it's easier to just buy one of the Fallout 4 toy props and customize it.

There are other older cosplays I've done, but I don't know where the photos are, or even if they're of good enough quality these days to post.

#fallout new vegas #cosplay #gunnar volk #laridian cosplays #courier six #goodsprings #repostober

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w98pops · 22 days

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idk if you've talked about this yet or if its spoilers but how do Wendy and Chance meet and start working together? I love to see them

OWWW OWWW THIS IS SO FUN!!! I feel like the only logical thing to do for Chance after surviving the poison attempt would follow the group to the Goodsprings WHERE he wouldn't of course reach them but would meet the designated target.

Realistically, Chance has no reason to cooperate with a random child who couldnt even hold her gun properly but Khans do travel in groups and he needed someone to cover his back on the way to Novac. I feel like either of them were outright planning to kill Benny, Wendy was really going to Primm to make sure her foster parents knew she was okay and Chance followed the trail of Benny to reunite with his friends, but then Primm was not safe for Wendy to stay there and then they went to Novac and then Wendy didn't like Novac (although she thought Manny was cool and he taught her some basics around a sniper rifle) and then they went to Boulder City and Chance got really REALLY mad at Benny and Wendy was still a bit sore after a point blank between her eyes and the magic of Vegas lights seemed to promise her something new ... the rest is history :)

Their companionship is a bit odd but they are a good team, even though at the start Chance did just dragged her out into the desert because riding the Mojave alone is dangerous and he can always use her as a meat shield or a mule :D

In all seriousness, I feel like if it weren't for his company, Wendy wouldve died not even halfway through the journey. She's no superhero STR 10 or a stealth mastermind. Just a little courier girl in a big big world tryna do her best and miserably failing. Their bound does not come from some sort of guilt or pity Chance has, he would've punched her in the face and it wouldve ended her instantly, the bound exist solely by days and weeks of travelling together, proving and trusting each other, lord know how rare is it to find a trust-worthy companion in the Mojave. Wendy would never actually replace any Khan (even become one for that matter) but she's a good girl and Chance knows that :) OOC or not I think Chance is a pretty chill guy and their partnership with my courier is my favorite thing ever I DONT CARE!!! I LOVE THEM!!!

And thank you for asking I couldnt get them outta my head ever since I saw the ask 😭

#sorry if i was all over the place #LORD KNOWS i want to write a fanfic about these two.#im not talented enough to write in my native language let alone english so it will take some time 😭 bear with me #asks #fallout #oc: wendy #courier six #chance #fallout all roads

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thefalloutwiki · 6 months

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Fallout: New Vegas Day: Obsidian staff handing out Pentiment pins

At the Fallout: New Vegas Day event, a few members of Obsidian visited and joined in on the celebration!

One of their members gave our staff these cute little complimentary Pentiment pins! So awesome!

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cosplayamaradolce · 4 months

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"In a world filled with misery and uncertainty, it is a great comfort to know tha-"

OMG, it's Yes-Man!! <3

My sincerest apologies and thanks to those suffering through my constant attempts at humor! The photobomb was too perfect not to post! Picture taken Saturday at the meetup.

#fallout cosplay #my cosplay #fallout day #goodsprings #joshua graham #the burned man #daniel #yes man #angsty Mormons #fnv #fallout new vegas #video game cosplay

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fnvminorcharacterpoll · 10 months

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FNV Minor Character Poll - Quarterfinal Round 5-A, Day 1

Left: Easy Pete, retired prospector residing in Goodsprings. —"[Dynamite's] too dangerous. Gonna kill all yourselves if I let you touch it. Better to leave it buried - safer that way."

Right: Harland, a member of the Bright Brotherhood, who probably enjoys waiting to be attacked any moment and eating nothing but roach meat. —"And I bet [Jason Bright] told you it's the creator's will for you to risk your ass, instead of him, right? Well, good luck with that! I'd give you a hand, but no thanks. I may look like a corpse, but I'm partial to living!"

Designated cheerleaders were not available for this match-up.

[Bracket | Info & FAQs | Become a Designated Cheerleader]

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fnv #easy pete #harland #round 5 #round 5-a #quarterfinals

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nooklingposting · 7 months

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@falloutober day 2: Neon

Goodsprings Saloon

#fallout new vegas #falloutober2023 #goodsprings #prospector saloon #new vegas #fallout

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calder · 6 months

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...looking at flying out to goodsprings fallout new vegas day... has anyone been? any of yall gonna be there?

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insomanic-fanfication · 1 year

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Update for my Fanfiction Requests:

The Tower XVI: Bruce Wayne x Joker's Son.

Where I'm at: 4 paragraphs

Summary: Reader is being trapped to work with the Joker, through Abuse. While using drugs to cope with the abuse, Batfam realizes Reader is a victim. Batman tries to help Reader get on the right path.

Panic at the Circus: Jason Todd x Autistic Reader

Where I'm at: 1 paragraph.

Summary: Jason and his partner go to a carnival for a nice date, away from Hero work. Jason gets a call and leaves for a bit to answer it. Reader has a meltdown due to being overstimulated. Jason helps calm reader down and shames the crowd that formed around Reader.

Mirrors: Tim Drake x Autistic Reader

Where I'm at: 3 1/2 paragraph

Summary: Autistic Reader mirroring Tim Drake, from how it started to how bad it got. Also, Batman realizing another of his adopted children are neruodivgernt.

Gay Chicken: Barry Allen x Male Reader

Where I'm at: 11 1/2 paragraphs.

Summary: while Reader and Barry were in college you guys kissed and did very gay things for party games. Barry has feelings for you, but is not sure if Reader is actually gay or not. Hal hypes up Barry to confess to you.

In Hal's words, 'Friends don't French kiss for a party game Barry!?'.

Tim Drake NSFW Alphabet

Where I'm at: 12/25 letters done.

K'Night' at the Outpost: Major Knight x Male Courier 6

Where I'm at: 1/2 paragraph.

Summary: While the Courier is helping around Goodsprings, he meets Major Knight at the Mojave Outpost. They talk here and there, Courier starts to flirt. Major Knight uses the Comfrimed bachelor dialogue, to tell the Courier its not safe for him to be out and proud at the Outpost. While talking and having a couple of beers, they plan on having a date. During Kinght's leave to New Vegas.

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

Notes: Yes I know ones not like the others. Shush! I love my closeted NCR repairman, and I can't find any good fanfication of him.

I'm working on the fanfications today as it's my day off. I might work on them a little more after work, through the week writing here and there.

#Crow!Update #tim drake #tim drake x Autistic Reader #Jason x Autistic Reader #barry allen x male reader #Bruce Wayne x male Reader #major knight #Major Knight x Male Courier #dc fanfic

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darkworkcourier · 7 hours

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Hi, hello, I decided to be stupidly self-indulgent and write my Courier/Cooper Howard. I guess it's an AU in the sense that I'm writing this under the No Gods, No Masters ending of FNV? Mr. House whomst.

---

All these years on, Cooper still hates Vegas.

He did some work in there—movie scenes, photo ops, theater releases. Casinos used to pay people like him just to show up, to draw in big crowds eager to gamble alongside the stars. He'd throw down a couple dollars on a blackjack table or at the roulette wheel, then make a beeline for the buffet when his time was up. He never had time to go sightseeing in the Mojave, to gaze down the long concrete throat of Hoover Dam, to catch all the sunset colors at Red Rock Canyon.

He flew in and out, and felt dirty all the while.

Knowing what he does about fellas like Robert House, he feels a particular kind of dirty again as New Vegas wavers like a mirage on the horizon. He's passed through before, following bounties through NCR checkpoints and around Legion patrols back when those bastards still crawled like red mites through the canyons and gullies.

This time is no different. A bounty on a would-be gunslinger who put a bullet into a brahmin baron's son during a bar fight. His trail's easy to follow, as all Cooper has to do is the world's longest bar crawl and ask after a shaken-up little shit in a mouse-colored duster. Same color as his coward hide, Cooper says.

His route takes him to a little outpost called Goodsprings. It's quaint in the way that Wasteland towns usually are—just people trying to keep their heads down and still attached to their necks. They must see ghouls aplenty, as everyone from the bighorner rancher to the bartender doesn't so much as bat an eye at the sight of him.

The bartender in particular is his favorite kind of person. The only question she asks is what he'll be drinking, and then she slides him a shot of whiskey and the rest of the bottle.

"Good for the caps?" she asks.

He nods, knuckles the brim of his hat as extra confirmation. "Much obliged, ma'am."

She scoffs with a smile. "Heavens to betsy, but you're polite. Oughta teach some of our other menfolk 'round here to mind their manners."

"It's a dyin' art," he agrees.

She goes back to wiping out chipped glasses with a rag that probably gets them dirtier than not. As she does, the saloon door opens with a low, throaty creak, getting both of their attentions.

The bartender coughs out a laugh. "Been a minute since you darkened our doorway, honey," she says.

Cooper glances over his shoulder to the visitor, burned-up brows rising in surprise. On one hand, she's a Wasteland special—.308 rifle slung over her shoulder, tan face windburnt on the cheeks, aged brahmin leather rucksack over her shoulder practically busting at the seams with supplies. At a glance, he can't tell if she's a scavver, caravaneer, or mercenary—maybe all three.

But on the other hand, he doesn't see women like her all that often. She's probably in her late 30s or so, although he's absolutely shit at guessing ages these days. A pair of aviator sunglasses rest on top of her head—hair blue-black and tied back—like she's a movie star at poolside. And, hell, the rest of her looks that way, too. If it weren't for all the hallmarks of a life lived out in the wastes, she'd fit right in to his best Hollywood memories. Boxed at the edges, sure, but pretty as all get out.

He doesn't often bitch about being a ghoul, but seeing girls like her out in the wastes really makes him kick himself over getting irradiated.

"Trudy," she greets, sliding onto the stool beside him easy as pie. Like the rest of the town, she doesn't so much as blink at him. "How're things?"

"Just dandy," the bartender replies, sliding a bottle of Sunset Sarsaparilla, of all things, across the bar top. "How's Vegas?"

The woman snorts as she opens the bottle, sliding the cap into one of her many pockets. "Same as always. Loud. Full of people with more money than brains. I needed a vacation."

"Well, you know you're always welcome," Trudy says, reaching across the bar to pat the woman on the arm. "Now, Sunny'd kill me right dead if I didn't tell her you were in town. I'm gonna hop out back an' let her know, if that's alright."

"Sure," the woman replies. She grins, a little pinch appearing at the bridge of her nose. "Me an' tall, dark, and ghoulish'll keep an eye out for any ruffians."

And just like they've been friends for decades, the woman gently elbows him in the bicep. If it were anyone else, or anywhere else, he might take a little offense. But it's not often that any gal quite like her even touches him, and this town is nice. So he just smiles and nods, good as anything.

"Of course, ma'am," he says, touching the brim of his hat again. "Do what you gotta do."

"Much obliged," she says, echoing him. She looks back to the woman. "Lizzie, you be nice to this fella."

"Always!"

Trudy heads out from behind the bar, leaving Cooper with her—Lizzie. He watches her take a long drink of her sarsaparilla, following the line of her throat, the faint bob as she swallows. She's still got sweat clinging to her skin from the desert heat, but he can also see freckles on her bare shoulders and her cheeks. If he still had the network of blood vessels to get warm in the face, he thinks he might just.

Lizzie sets her drink down and turns to look right back at him. Not at all put off by his stares. She's all smiles, eyes crinkling with crow's feet at the corners. "See somethin' you like, cowboy?" she asks.

Flirting right out the goddamn gate. It doesn't sound like a joke coming from her, which takes him by surprise.

But it's just as easy to fall into a role.

"Suppose'n I do," he replies. "If you're into irradiated fellas, that is."

She breaks into a laugh, which he almost thinks is at his expense until she follows it up. "Cariño, I'm mostly into people who click the Geiger counter," she says, all matter of fact.

Color him surprised again. "S' that so?"

Lizzie leans over the top of the bar, elbow on the top, chin resting in her palm. Her grin's as wide and content as a cat. "I got a track record, won't lie," she says. "Y'know there's a dominatrix ghoul in Freeside?"

He didn't, but that's a fact he's going to be rolling around in the ol' decrepit gray matter for a while. "Huh," is all he says before taking a shot.

"If you tell her Lizzie Holliday sent you, she might give you a discount."

"I'll keep that in mind, sweetheart."

The nickname seems to make her preen, and she takes another drink like she's fortifying herself. She sets it back down, then gives him a long once-over that almost makes him self-conscious.

Almost.

"Wanna get out of here?" she asks.

"Ain't you got a friend wantin' to visit?"

This time, her smile shows some teeth. One of her top incisors is chipped, and some deep-set part of Cooper that still wants supplies the thought that he ought to test how that tooth feels on his own tongue.

"She knows my priorities," Lizzie says.

And that's all the invitation Cooper needs.

---

Holy-good-goddamn, but he missed this.

Lizzie's riding him like he's the last train out of Yuma, rolling her hips over his, hands braced on his shoulders with a grip that would hurt someone with more nerve endings. Her hair's out of its ponytail, messed up one one side where he raked his hand through it while she was sucking his cock earlier.

And holy shit did she have some technique. He doesn't have a reason to doubt that she's fucked ghouls before, since she put just enough pressure on all the right parts so that he could feel it. And not once did she shy away from him once his clothes were on the floor and he was sprawled out on her bed.

Her bed, in a converted ranch home that she's made positively cozy. He feels like a teenager sneaking in through the window, out of place amongst the artwork and Christmas lights and tchotchkes. He could almost put himself two centuries back, in some college girl's over-decorated dorm room.

But sorority girls don't have deathclaw skulls mounted over their dressers.

Lizzie suddenly catches him on an upward thrust that makes both of them hiss. Then she seats herself flush against him, and it's the closest to heaven he's probably going to get for the kind of bastard he is. She's warm, slick-wet around him and for him. Hazel eyes blown wide and cheeks dark with arousal. It's the first time in years he's felt wanted like this; like he's something worth wanting rather than the irradiated husk of a man.

Another thrust and she shudders, muttering in Spanish and squeezing her eyes shut.

He doesn't catch what she says, but he can't help a little self-deprecation for the road. "If you gotta pretend I'm someone else, by all means."

She swears—and that doesn't need a translation—before her eyes are open and fixed on him. "Give me a name to start moanin' and there won't be any confusion," she says, rolling her hips to punctuate it.

"Jesus Christ," he says through his teeth.

"I'm not callin' you that."

He wouldn't normally offer up his name to anyone not worth knowing he was a human once, but she's something different. He knows that the way the wind blows, he'll likely never see her again, but he'll keep the memory of her tucked nice and close for those lonely, long nights.

"Cooper," he says at last.

She smiles, eyes reflecting those ridiculous rainbow lights strung up around her bedroom. Something about her feels otherworldly, powerful. Either he's already in some weird endorphin-induced haze, or he's more into her than he thought.

"Cooper," she repeats. It's easy and warm as sunshine in her mouth, and he wants to hear it again. He bucks his hips for her, driving up into that heat, eager to get a gasp, a whisper—anything.

And she delivers. Leaning over, tits pressed to his chest, mouth by one of his scarred-up ears, she says his name over and over. Follows the rhythm of his thrusts, loses the syllables as he pushes her over the edge. His name is unstrung, a thread caught in her moans and keens. Then she's pushed to open-mouthed silence, riding it out in desperate asyncopation.

When she finally comes down, he's on the way up. She's clinging to his shoulders still, their chests pressed together, her heartbeat a riot of rhythm rushing through his chest.

Then her mouth goes back to his ear.

"It's Adelita," she says, sighs. "Lizzie to everyone else. Adelita to you."

It's a hell of a trade—a name for a name, a release for a god-fucking-blessed release. He comes harder than he has in years, her name warm on his tongue. He fucks into her, pulsing, filling her, earning another gasp and moan wrapped around his name.

When it's all done, she rolls off him onto her back, chest heaving for breath. He's wheezing for his through rotten lungs. But he watches her, the colors of the lights on her freckled skin and in her eyes, the tresses of her hair falling across her sweat-damp forehead, the scar—

His eyes catch on it. Two interlinked starbursts of scar tissue on the right side of her forehead.

Bullet wounds.

He reaches up to push her hair away from it, pads of his fingers brushing over her skin so that he can almost fool himself into thinking he can feel it. "Looks like there's a story up here," he says. Maybe jokes.

She's still smiling. A little weary, a little amused. "That's my hard reset," she says.

"Oh?"

His hand's still on the scar, and she reaches up to tap the back of his hand twice. Tap-tap, in hard sequence. "Two little 9mm bites," she explains. "Sent me into an early grave."

Cooper frowns, looks at her hand now resting on his, both pressed to her forehead. Now that he's looking, he can also see a faint, hair-thin scar that follows her scalp line all the way across. This girl's got some history.

"I gather that it didn't take," he replies.

Lizzie—Adelita—hums to herself, then sings, "There ain't no grave can hold my body down," before looking up at him. "I did get better."

"I see that. So, either you're the prettiest ghoul that done walked the wastes, or the Mojave's got better doctors than I thought."

"The latter," she confirms. "Myself included."

"No shit?"

Her dark brows rise, grin plain on her face. "Doc Holliday. Get it?"

The joke catches him by surprise, again. A lot of shit about this girl is a surprise. It pries a laugh out of him, then earns a few strokes through her hair. "That's good," he says. "That's real good."

"Gracias."

They lay there in a shockingly comfortable silence. His hand in her hair, combing the strands back and away from that scar. She leans up against him, eyes half-lidded, a dreamy expression on her face.

Then, she sighs, "This is already a damn good vacation."

"Glad I could contribute," Cooper says. "High-stress job?"

She sighs, blinks slow, then reaches up and rests an arm across his waist. "You have no idea," she says.

Curiosity gets the best of him. He's a man who appreciates people keeping their noses—or lack thereof—out of his business. However, he's also a bounty hunter, a man making his too-long living on asking the right questions and using those answers to his benefit down the road. It might be good to know something about her, to make connections, to network as some assholes in his past life might say.

"Merc work? Or somethin' worse?"

"Jack of all trades," she says. She raises up her gaze to him, and for one brief, strange moment, her eyes catch that unearthly light again that he can't entirely blame on the Christmas lights. "Mostly courier. An' mostly ruler of New Vegas."

---

Years down the line, Cooper Howard goes back to Vegas.

It's with company now—a vault girl he's tolerating a little more by the day, and a dog. They cross the Mojave, following the silhouette of Vegas by day and its glow by night, drawing in closer and closer like irradiated moths to Vegas' big ol' flame.

Just shy of Goodsprings, as the foothills lean forward like they're drawn in by the city, too, Lucy asks, "What kind of place is New Vegas, anyhow?"

Cooper shrugs and adjusts his pack as Dogmeat trots alongside him, tongue lolling out of her mouth. "Sleazy, dirty, bright," he says. Then, his eyes catch the tallest building in the row of casinos—the top a massive roulette wheel with its spire pointing to heaven. He has to amend his opinion, for the first time since he stepped foot in Vegas as a healthy human. "Ain't the worst watering hole, though."

"We're not going to get shot at right through the gate?"

Despite himself, Cooper smiles. He draws down the brim of his hat as low as he can without losing vision.

"Nah," he says. "All we gotta say is that Lizzie Holliday put in a good word for us."

#fallout #fallout show #fallout new vegas #courier/the ghoul #what would i even call this pairing like?????#ghoulier? mailghoul? coopzie????????

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