if it ain't irradiated, i don't want it

I was wondering how you think The Ghoul (and if you'd like other ghouls) would flirt with someone they're into?

As always, love your stuff and keep up the good work! No pressure at all<3

Fun one! I tried to keep this fairly short, since I can go pretty overboard with these spotlight posts sometimes. I'd be happy to take requests for candidates for a follow-up.

Cooper Howard has a warmth to him at times that transitions very easily into flirtation. So easily, in fact, that it hits you pretty hard when the realization finally settles over you. I mean, everyone who knows the star personally says he's incredibly kind, generous, affable. It's impossible to not develop a tiny crush on him (provided you didn't already have one when you first met), the way he's so humble and charming and how he acts familiar with you quickly while still maintaining an air of gentlemanliness. He's heavily complimentary, and while you may try to convince yourself that you're reading too much into it, given everyone around him seems at least a bit enraptured by him, eventually you can't deny that he's genuinely interested in you. He makes it impossible to think otherwise. Once the ice has been broken, he gets a lot bolder, sending gifts and getting much closer into your personal space at every chance. Needless to say, your physical relationship will likely be quick to develop further soon afterwards.

The Ghoul is a yearner. Well, once he's allowed himself to accept the fact that he's falling for you instead of fighting it with every fiber of his being, he's a yearner. He's beyond rusty in terms of flirting, being the sort of affectionate he used to be so effortlessly. Rusty enough, in fact, that he's genuinely petrified to actually try. As a way to compensate, he becomes more of a man of gestures. It might be hard for him to compliment you like he wants, to tell you that he really likes you, but he can still do things for you to make your life easier. That's the best way he can think to put his interest to action without having to put himself too far out there. He's not really explicitly trying to curry your favor with the things he does for you (cleaning/maintaining your armor and weapons when you sleep, stocking up on meds and certain foods for you, allowing you certain comforts he'd typically bitch about), as he's not sure why you'd want him...but if it works, it works. Once he gets over the second hump of allowing himself to believe you're actually attracted to him despite his physical (and internal) flaws, he slowly tries being sweeter, more complimentary, though it always ends up coached in the same gruffness you're used to seeing from him.

Charon doesn't even really try to flirt, as he doesn't see the point in it (considering he doesn't think you'd want anything to do with him anyway). If he's interested in you, though, there will be signs, as he's not especially good at hiding his true feelings towards people he spends a lot of time around, positive or negative. You constantly catch him staring at you, studying you. He's extra protective of you to an almost paternalistic (and annoying) degree. Regularly violates your personal space by standing way too close, physically blocking or redirecting you when you're not going in the direction he wants, small things that allow him to have fleeting moments of contact with you. If you express attraction to him, he'll make more physical advances, but he's not exactly subtle about it.

Roy Phillips, like the Ghoul, is more of an "acts of service" kind of guy when it comes to demonstrating his interest. Unlike Cooper, Roy won't hide the fact that he's trying to earn your favor, won't hide the way he allows his gaze to trace over you every chance he gets, despite lacking a certain amount of emotional finesse. I've discussed before that he's perfectly aware just how much he sucks at being "sweet" in the traditional sense, especially with someone he's not actually that close with yet. He's just not very romantically minded and never has been, as it requires a certain amount of vulnerability he's not too keen on. His tactic, instead, is to make himself useful. If you need something carried, fetched, fixed, or opened, he's your guy, and a lot of the time he'll have already done it before you get around to actually asking for his help. It can be a little bothersome at times, as he's kinda arrogant about it, but he's got a certain playfulness to him, too. Teases you a lot, but takes it almost as well as he dishes it out. Roy might toe a bit past the line sometimes, but ultimately he wants to establish a sort of back and forth. The more he can desensitize you to how much of a dick he can be sometimes, the better his chances of things working out, he thinks. Bad at the more traditional romantic gestures, but he manages to make up for it in his own way.

Joshua Graham barely even understands what actual human flirting looks like. When he was a young man, that sort of fraternization was forbidden, and through his middle adult years, he didn't have to put any effort into obtaining a (momentary) partner if that's what he wanted. So, needless to say that once you meet him in Zion, he's almost hopelessly lost in terms of how to garner positive attention from you. Splits the resulting pent-up energy between stalking/watching you when he thinks you're not looking and studying how others react to you, but not really interacting directly with you all that much. Eventually he starts requesting your help just so he can monopolize your attention and keep you in one place. Uses the alone time to ask you things about yourself, questions he'd never deign (or bother) to ask anyone else, but whose answers he meticulously tucks away in the corner of his mind dedicated to you. I've mentioned before that I think he's likely a gift-giver, as it's easier for him to express affection with actions and items than it is to do so with words. Nothing too fancy; simple things like clusters of wild flowers from around the canyon, little scavenged souvenirs, treats he knows you like. Maybe a cool rock or two if you seem like you'd be the type to appreciate that sort of thing. He's actually quite taken by it if you're the sort of person who enjoys simpler things like that. God help you both when it comes to escalating your closeness, though, as he's even more awkward then.

Edward Deegan employs a more drawn-out approach. His personal philosophy when it comes to flirtatious matters is centered around patience, comfort, and normalization. In his younger days, he applied a more aggressive strategy, but over the years he's come to appreciate the payoff that comes with putting a little leg work into flirtation/seduction. Very much the sort to build a friendly rapport first, try to get to the point where the two of you have consistent, playful banter. Then he starts to make small jokes, give you subtle compliments, gauging the warmth of your response. If it seems like you might return his interest, he turns up the heat a bit, makes slightly riskier jokes and remarks towards you, lets his gaze linger longer and longer. If he's just looking for a hook-up, which is a lot of the time, things tend to speed up from there. But if he sees longer-term potential in what the two of you have, he'll continue to escalate without going all the way. He can be pretty openly sexual when he's teasing, even if the two of you haven't slept together quite yet. Also willing to get a bit grabby if the moment feels right.

The scream I scrumpt when I first read this, Anon...I wish you could have heard it. This is one of those submissions where I'm a little embarrassed at how brightly my brain lit up when I saw it. I will say that my level of embarrassment has certainly dwindled over the time I've been running this blog; y'all are just as bad as me the vast majority of the time. Enjoy.

Cut added for length.

Prewar!Cooper's reaction will depend pretty heavily on whether or not he's sober when it slips out, honestly. And it'll vary wildly.

Wonder how the ghoul would react if he was held like that again. Maybe while hurt so he couldn't shy away.

I can see him trying his damnest to not get teary eyed as you gently rub his brow. Bro is not doing great😭

I definitely didn't cry a little writing this. We've seen this man suffer so much this season, and we're only at the halfway point! I just want to see him let himself be cared about, but I think we all know he'd resist it as much as possible, so I went with hurt and intoxicated. You'd need a lot of help getting through those defenses of his. Thanks for the submission.

Cooper's sustained more than his fair share of mortal wounds over the centuries he's been wastelanding—endless bullet holes, massive puncture wounds, shrapnel buried so deep inside him that it never came back out, digging eternally into twinging flesh and aching bone. He's very well acquainted with physical suffering. That familiarity, though, never prepares him for the suffering.

The shitty, half-collapsed little shack isn't much, but it's sturdy enough and remote enough that he allows himself to close his eyes for a few minutes, fairly certain no one will stumble across him in his vulnerable state. Still, his hand lies resting on his hip, finger resting near the trigger of his pistol, ever ready.

Med-X is something he's not one hesitant to reach for often, too encumbering and too likely to force dreams he'd rather not have upon him. More often than not, it makes him pass out, something he avoids no matter how close he may come to it. But the pain from his injuries is too severe, causing his stomach to churn and his vision to blur, so he drags his bloody saddlebag towards him with a pained groan and digs through it until he finds one of the thin syringes and jams it into his arm.

He desperately wants to dig the mostly full flask of whiskey out of his pocket, but he resists the urge. Alcohol will only make the bleeding worse, and he's not sure how much he can spare.

The round of explosive ammo had torn a hole more than twice the size of his fist in his lower flank, a now-crusting blood stain blooming around it, black and heavy with the smell of iron. One un-gloved hand feels around the tender strips of skin that cling to his flank, trying to determine how much longer he'll be healing through his quickly fogging consciousness.

It's taking you longer than expected to fetch the supplies you'd gone out for, he thinks to himself as he lies sprawled across a filthy mattress on the floor. The slowing, numbing affect of the opiate does nothing to dull his fixation, and he's unsure if he's more annoyed or concerned at the delay. Fortunately, he doesn't have to ponder for long, as you give an identifying knock before reappearing through the crooked front door.

"Sorry." you murmur as you quickly shuck your outer jacket, digging quickly through one of the pockets. "Some asshole followed me out of the depot trying to chat me up, so I had to walk him in circles for a bit so I could lose him. Didn't want him seeing you."

Smart. he thinks, unable to do anything more than continue to lie there and breathe heavily as he watches the blurry shape of you dart back and forth around the small, dirty space. You avoid making direct eye contact with him, trying to seem nonchalant, but he can feel the anxiety radiating off of you in waves, see it in the way you whale-eye him from the side like a scared pup.

There's something between you. Something small, but significant. At first, he'd written it off as him struggling to become reacquainted with human company, too eager to share a connection with someone again once he'd sort of opened himself up to the possibility. Then he'd thought it was his ancient white knight syndrome flaring up, ego stroked every time he was able to protect you, properly guide you.

Now, he's too afraid to admit to himself what he thinks it might be.

"Gimme stimpack." he manages to grunt, angrier sounding than he'd like. You don't seem to notice—or, at least, you don't seem to let his harsh tone get under your skin, obediently kneeling down onto the dusty floorboards beside the mattress. There's a split second of hesitation from you, but you're careful as you lean over him and search for an intact piece of flesh close enough to the site. As gently as he can manage, he takes you by the wrist and guides you to a better spot, pretending to ignore the way you tremble ever-so-slightly with nerves.

It's not unexpected. Contact does this to both of you equally, since both of you have been too petrified to make a move of any sort, even the most entry level sort. Though you've had a number of lingering gazes, "accidental" touches, and thinly veiled comments between you, that's all you've had. Besides, you'd tried to pull his coat off of him to look closer at the gaping wound when you'd first settled him down, but he'd refused to let you, yanking the thing closer around his waist.

Now, it hangs open, and he offers no fight as you cautiously jab him with the stimpack needle.

Again, he allows his heavy eyelids to slip shut for a beat, studying the small chaos of you when you pull yourself back up to your feet. There's a tripping sound, some fumbling, a splattering as if you'd spilled something. He lacks the energy or mental clarity to give you the same shit he usually would for it, but the smallest glimpse of a grin tugs at the corners of his mouth.

Cooper tries his best to shift to the side when he hears you closing in, eventually settling yourself carefully at his shoulders on the mattress. Your legs jut out awkwardly, brushing the back of his head. He jumps at the sudden feeling of a cool rag against his temple, your warm fingers tracing down the other side of his jaw to gingerly hold him in place. Despite being rather shocked by your temerity, he doesn't snap at you for the over-familiar gesture like he usually would.

"I know it's kinda smelly, but this water's pretty rad-high." you say quietly, dabbing the road grime and blood spatter from his face. "I figured it would help."

The stuff does, indeed, smell like rot and stagnation, but the warm thrum of the rads against his skin immediately begins to settle his queasy stomach. He desperately wants to wriggle away, to deny himself this expression of kindness, closeness. Every nerve ending in his body feels raw, chafing against even the slightest movement or breeze, and it has nothing to do with his massive wound or the substances coursing through his system.

"Shouldn't be touchin' that stuff." he slurs, forcing his eyes open and trying his best to focus them.

"Oh, hush." you reply, none of the expected guff in your tone as you continue on with your work.

Once you seem satisfied, you rest the now lukewarm compress against his forehead and sit in silence, your eyes flitting all around his face. Cooper can't tell if he's catching bits of microsleep out of pure exhaustion, or if he's tiptoeing closer and closer to full-on passing out, but he repeatedly loses time; a few seconds here, a minute there blanked out as if they never existed.

"How are you feeling?" you ask after a long while of silence, taking another swipe at his temple that feels more like affection than business.

Your fingers are so soft against his brow, your visage cast in an angelic, drug-induced aura as he gazes up at you. For a moment, you look like Barb, the room around you transformed into a suite at the Lucky 38 as you hover over him, that protective look shining in your gaze. His vision is starting to narrow into smaller and smaller points, and it's all he can see as he gives a heavy, lingering blink.

"Kiss me." he says, soft as a whisper.

He's not sure who he's talking to, but he knows whose lips touch his. Despite how warped his sense of time feels, you don't seem to hesitate, the angle a bit awkward as you crane your neck so your mouth can meet his. His limbs are too heavy for him to lift his hand to your face the way he wants to, but the ungloved one manages to find your own, settling on top of it. You turn your palm skywards, intertwining your fingers with his in one smooth move.

The sharp pain in his gut has quieted, likely thanks to the heavy mix of painkillers and healing agents, but a new ache has kicked up in his chest. The bitter tang of guilt coats the back of his tongue as he studies your face when you finally pull away, and for a beat he's looking past you. His vision's gone blurry again, but this time it's thanks to the line of tears he quickly fights away. You look like you want to say something, but you keep mum as his vision starts to narrow into nothing.

Despite the ugly feeling of suspicion that's starting to grow into a hard lump behind his breast bone, whispering in his ragged ear that he'll regret what he's done when he wakes, he can't bring himself to pull his hand away from where it rests. He thinks he feels your warm, full lips against the crown of his head as he slips into full unconsciousness, but it could easily be a dream. Maybe a drug-induced hallucination born of desire.

Cut added for length, because I have no chill when it comes to this man.

In the events of the show, we see him both party into the late evening as a way to network and struggle to sleep at night when he is home, so it wouldn't be out of the question for him to be up and around while you're knocked out in bed. I've also discussed the possibility that he's already dabbling in hard drug use and/or addicted to alcohol, both as a result of his PTSD and as a result of the stress he's under, both financially (as we've seen that his career is waning and he feels pressure as a "provider") and personally (you know, the whole "I know how close the end of the world could really be" thing).

Because of that, it's not hard to imagine him slinking in quietly after a long night out, the smell of amber liquor and cigarettes clinging to him, whole body buzzing with unstable, heated energy following more than a few drinks over the course of the evening. Maybe a few lines in the back room, too. Depends on the night.

Yeah, well...How 'bout a boat that's not a boat. You know what I mean? Of course, you do. You take out one plank...boat's the same as it ever was. It's just got a— a hole in it, that's all. You take out a— a lot of planks...and all of a sudden, you gotta ask yourself...what— what the fuck am I looking at? This ain't no boat. It's just a— a pile of wood, man. It's just a fսckin' pile of wood.

I think prewar!Cooper might be one too but he's way more subtle about it. Like he likes it but it isn't necessarily whereas it's probably one of the Ghoul's bigger kinks, especially since his partner bratting gives him an in for other things

This is probably the most correct opinion about the Ghoul that I've had come through the inbox, frankly. And I've seen a lot of correct opinions. Sorry for the response time! I swear I'm always trying to get to older asks, slowly but surely.

Prewar!Cooper is very much a "this hurts me more than it hurts you" kind of brat tamer. His passion doesn't really lie in punishing you or openly controlling your behavior (key word: openly). If anything, he prefers the opposite; he'd rather spend his time spoiling you and encouraging you to do what makes you feel good than punishing you. However, he still feels that you both…have certain roles, let's say.

Coop doesn't wanna boss you around. He works very hard to specifically avoid the appearance of him explicitly telling you what to do. But, at the same time, he definitely views himself as a sort of…guiding hand in your life. The man loves and cherishes you more than anything and there's nothing he wants more than to see you happy, but he thinks that sometimes you need a little poke in the right direction.

Oftentimes, you're more than happy to take his advice, but there are plenty of instances where you push back just to push back, to show the older man you still have a mind of your own. Over the course of your relationship, he develops a sort of sixth sense for you when you're going to decide to act out, and often tries preemptively to warn you what the consequences will be.

"Now, honey, you know how much I love you, but if you don't act right tonight, I'm gonna have to punish you. I think you know that."

It's a game between you two, more than anything. However, he knows that if he doesn't follow through with his threats, you'll quickly learn you don't have to take them take them seriously. Besides, he's a man of his word; if he says he's gonna spank you until you can't sit properly, he's gonna do it. Plus, the way he can get you squealing and begging so quickly after trying to act so big and tough makes his cock extra hard.

When it comes to the Ghoul, frankly, I don't think he would want a partner who wasn't at least sort of a brat. He needs someone with some fire in them, even if (or, maybe especially if) that fire spills into occasionally butting heads with him. It's a much needed release for him.

Part of it is a need to lash out at something, anything; he'd never admit it, because it isn't necessarily a healthy way to view one's partner, but he views you as a source of stress relief in more than one way. Yes, he enjoys that you offer him a sympathetic ear, a shoulder to cry on, a series of tight holes to take his sexual frustrations out on. But there's another need he has that those things don't fulfill; his need for control, to exert his will over something as part of that need.

The Ghoul expresses very clearly that he knows what's best for you, and you typically believe him, thanks to his seemingly endless knowledge of the Wasteland and its dangers. At the same time, however, the way he often chooses to express his knowledge often rubs you wrong (he's such a prick about it a lot of the time), and you often feel the need to buck back a bit.

He is patient, deadly so when it comes to things like this. That almost psychic sense that tells him when you're going to act up never went away. You don't wanna listen to him? Fine. Cooper will sit back and let you get hurt, at least a little bit, if he thinks it'll help you learn your lesson. If the danger you're putting yourself in front of is too great, he'll save you from yourself, but then it's him you really need to worry about.

"You don't have the sense God gave a doped-up raider, you know that? Don't you ever listen? Do I need to make the lesson painful in order for you to fuckin' learn it?"

If you're indignant about your punishment, all the better. He loves when you're pouty and whiny and hold your nose up in the air in response to his threats, because it gives him the perfect excuse to up the ante if you keep at it. Isn't afraid to go harsh or just downright nasty with his punishments, and you'll only inspire him further by resisting. If you think you're above whatever he's pushing at you, you aren't, and he's gonna show you that.

Though he wouldn't ever do anything that he knows you consider "over the line", far too afraid of running you off for good, he knows what makes you squirm and he's very good at using it against you. He takes a lot of pleasure from pushing you to your limits when you push his boundaries or don't follow his rules.

Cooper Howard obviously likes good girls...corruption kink, anyone?

Prewar!Cooper would be sweet about it, even gentlemanly. He'd be respectful, slowly warming you up to all these ideas that you've never even heard of before. Of course, you trust him implicitly, and you're happy to go where he guides you. He would get a sense of the things you're into, what your boundaries are, but once he knew you well enough, he might start to nudge you in certain directions.

Taking you for a drive, his hand on your thigh slowly slipping higher until he's rubbing you through your underwear as you go along, working you up to an orgasm at a red light in full public view, completely aware that everyone can tell what's happening. Going for a long walk in a nice park and pulling you into the bushes for "a few smooches" that turn into you deep-throating his cock until you almost pass out. Pushing you into poorly soundproofed closets at fancy parties to turn you into a squealing mess on the end of his cock, too loud for others to not hear. It's all so addictive and you're powerless to stop yourself from giving into him wherever and whenever, slowly turning you into a little exhibitionist because he thinks it's hot.

"Oh, I know how much you like this, sweetheart...what if I tried this? Does that feel good? Sure seems like it does. You don't have to be embarrassed. I'll take care of you. You trust me, right, baby doll?"

The Ghoul would be...meaner. He's more the "don't ask for permission; beg for forgiveness" type, but without the begging part. He'd just go for things, watching in almost sadistic glee as your face would morph from shock to disgust to ashamed arousal. You would be able to sense something different in the air, but you never see his dirty tricks coming. Does this stop you from continuing to sleep with him as you trek the West together? Of course not. As much as you might hate him a little (or a lot) for it, he knows exactly what makes you tremble and beg for more, even as your face reddens and you struggle to look at him.

Sliding his tongue back to tease your asshole when he's eating you out like a man starved, laughing wickedly and holding your hands away when you try to stop him because 'That's so gross!', but soon your protests turn to wanton moans. Hell, sliding his thumb into your ass as he fucks you from behind, using the leverage to bounce you harder on his hips, the sensation amazing despite how humiliating it feels. The next time he fucks you that way, you whimper out a little plea for him to do it again. Making you beg him to spit in your mouth as you near your orgasm until he no longer has to prompt you, you simply open your mouth. He gets off on getting you to request (or even beg for) disgusting treatment.