#Y-TEC

[elcorreografico]

Roberto Salvarezza: “En 2025, Argentina podría exportar unas 200 mil toneladas de litio”

#Ciencia #Tecnología #Política | #RobertoSalvarezza: “En 2025, Argentina podría exportar unas 200 mil toneladas de #litio”

El presidente de Y-TEC y de YPF Litio destacó la firma del contrato con la provincia de Catamarca para explorar y explotar el recurso. En Radio Provincia el presidente de Y-TEC y de YPF Litio, Roberto Salvarezza, aseguró que “en 2025, Argentina podría exportar unas 200 mil toneladas de litio” a partir del desarrollo de “unos 20 proyectos que están avanzando a diferente velocidad y en distintos…

[olsenmyolsen]

Fallout

master list

dark master list

Fallout/Marvel AU (Gender Neutral Reader X Wanda Maximoff)

Summary: You and your wife, Wanda Maximoff, are finally living your dream life in WestView. It was perfect until the bombs fell.

Word Count: 1.3K

Content: Fallout TV Show and Video Game references. Not a happy ending. I wrote this in like one hour.

Yakety Yak played from the tiny radio resting on the end table next to the couch as Wanda Maximoff, dressed in a red A-line skirt and Oxford shirt, reading through a lifestyle magazine her neighbor Agnes had lent her.

"Wow, is the death rate of single men really that high?" Wanda quietly questioned to herself before you came in through the front door. Sweating and out of breath.

"Gosh, it's a scorcher out there!" You said as you huffed and puffed in the middle of the entryway to the house. Wanda smiled at your voice and rose. "Let me grab you some water, dear." You smiled as she whizzed by you. Her perfume and infectious personality making you feel hotter all over.

"Honey?" Wanda pulled you from your thoughts as she handed you a tall glass of water. You accepted it and chugged the whole thing before handing it back to Wanda, who only took a single kiss as a form of payment.

"So I take it the lawn is done?" Wanda asked as she came back from the kitchen. You nodded. "It's perfect. Way better than Norm's." You smiled with a goofy grin while Wanda shook her head and chuckled at your stupid rivalry. "I'm sure it is." Wanda stepped behind you and started to push you to the back room. Where your bedroom was. "Now, why don't you take a shower so that way when I kiss you again, I'm not worried about getting a grass stain!"

Wanda was proud of her joke and let the inviable audience loudly laugh at that one. You playfully rolled your eyes and accepted it, but not before reaching out and grabbing your wife's hand.

"You know a shower is only fun if I have help?" You made your eyebrows bounce. Wanda smirked. "Really? You managed yesterday without help, so I think you'll be just fine." She scrunched her nose and began moving you once again. You went to reply, but the doorbell interrupted you. "Shower!" Wanda pointed back with a smile and laughed at your pouty face. But yet you retreated and went to take a shower as Wanda answered the door to a man dressed like a salesperson.

"Hello is this the Maximoff residents?" Wanda clasped her hands over themselves in front of her. "Yes, it is." The man was holding a clipboard and looked at it as he began marking some stuff off. "Okay, great! And there are two of you, correct?" Wanda nodded as she looked over the man.

Who was he?

"I'm sorry, but who are you? Who are you with?" Wanda asked as the man lifted his eyes to her with a smile. "Oh, I'm sorry. Please forgive me." He stuck his hand out. Wanda took it gingerly. "My name is Steve Rogers and I'm here with an opportunity for the future!"

The man was a mix of nervousness and overzealous.

"The future?" Wanda questioned as she looked the man over. Steve cleared his throat before speaking up. "Why yes, Ma'am. You see, Vault-Tec is the foremost builder of state-of-the-art underground Fallout shelters."

Wanda tilted her head with her eyebrows scrunched. She had heard of Vault-Tec, but why was a salesperson at her door? "Vaults?"

Like safes? Wanda wondered.

Steve nodded. "Yes Vaults! Luxury accommodations for you and..." He looked down at his clipboard. "Y/n Maximoff to wait out the horrors of nuclear devastation." Wanda's eyes went wide. "I'm sorry!?"

Steve kept going.

"If you haven't noticed, Ma'am, excuse my language, but this country has gone to heck in a handbasket. Now more than ever, people need to be prepared. The big kaboom is inevitable. Sooner than you may think. If you catch my drift." He said the last part softer and quieter. But he said it with a smile.

Wanda took a step back.

Steve noticed. "Now, now, I know you're a busy woman, so I won't take too much more of your precious remaining time. I'm here to tell you that you and your partner have been selected and pre-approved for our own local Vault. Vault 89!"

Wanda seemed a little surprised but nodded and smiled. She didn't like the feeling that was turning in her.

"Wow, well, thank you!" Wanda politely said while Steve nodded and tipped his hat to Wanda. "Thank you for trusting Vault-Tec with your future!" He turned on his heels and walked with a purpose off the front porch. Wanda watched as the man admired the lawn before hopping into his car.

As Wanda locked the front door, you were leaving the main bedroom. All dressed and clean. "Who was it?" You asked, startling your wife. You looked at her wide-eyed as she shrieked and composed herself before laughing. "Sorry." She said before fast walking to you and wrapping her arms around your body. Your clean smell invading her nose, making her feel better.

"No need to apologize." You replied as you held Wanda. The two of you softly swaying in the middle of the living room. "Are you going to tell me who it was, or do I have to guess?" You kissed the top of Wanda's head. "It was Vault-Tec." She said with her Sokovian accent slipping after she turned her head to face you.

"Vault-Tec? The company Cooper Howard promotes?" Wanda nods to your confused face. "Promoted. But yes. We've been selected for a Vault. Vault 89." Wanda said as she was reading your eyes. "Now, why in the hell were we selected?" You questioned, only to earn a shrug from Wanda. "Maybe only the house with the best lawn gets in," Wanda said as she couldn't hide her bright smile.

"Oh, you think you're funny?" You asked, looking into your wifes green eyes. She nodded. "I saw him admiring all your hard work before he left." She squeezed and poked your arms as she said it.

You laughed and untangled yourself from Wanda as you brought the two of you to the couch. "Well, I guess that means the Vault will be free of Norm." Wanda threw her head back and slapped your arm at your comment. "Honey!"

You chuckled before flipping on the TV. A weatherman was complaining about how hot the rest of the summer would be for WestView before a producers ran on screen and the broadcast suddenly cut. A singular tone and a screen that read Please Stand By followed.

Wanda's smile faded fast, as did yours.

It can't be.

"No, no, no," Wanda whispered as her voice broke and quivered. You immediately rose and went to the window. You didn't see anything through the shudders until it was all white.

What followed was smoke and fire.

The glass broke and sent debris flying above you as you protected Wanda.

"But this is our home!" Wanda screamed as you tried lifting her.

It was real. It was happening. Fallout was coming.

Wanda thrashed about in your arms as she didn't want to leave the house you and her worked so hard for. She has the deed that you bought hanging above her bedside table. Pictures of family scattered around the house. Your music collection and hidden snacks would be forgotten to time. You didn't want to leave either. But you needed to survive. You couldn't do this without Wanda.

"Wanda, please let's go!" You yelled as the noise outside was growing louder and more chaotic. But only one thought processes through your wifes head as Wanda escaped from your hold and runs into the bedroom. Returning out of it moments later with one thing in her hand.

With tears running down her face, she opens your hand and placed it down. "Wanda..." You flip the plastic stick over before the air left your throat. "You're..." Wanda nodded and cried harder.

She was pregnant.

Tears fell onto the carpet below your feet as you brought yourself closer and kissed Wanda.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

You did everything you could to get Wanda to the Vault that day. Through crowds of panicked people. Through the incompetent security of Vault-Tec. Through the white flash of another bomb being dropped.

The two of you made it.

But that same day was the last time you saw Wanda before she was separated from you at the Vault checkpoint.

You don't remember anything after that until today.

Time passed. She's not here anymore.

So, as the doors open and the sun blinds as you stand dressed in blue and yellow, you're prepared to find Wanda and your children. Whatever it takes.

You're prepared for Fallout.

dividers by @/benkeibear

[empanadasdepinos]

doodles #3

[dcawritings]

“Oh, I am quite certain that you’re not dreaming, my pretty little tester. Far from it, in fact. Aster. Aaaaster.”

The voice sounds soft, buzzing as if from the air itself as it plays with the sound of the man’s name. Tasting each syllable in its nonexistent mouth. Even when the voice is silent and speaker unseen it isn’t hard to feel a presence in the room, a weight that can’t quite be ignored even beyond the gentle notification that peeks in the corner of Aster’s perception.

ECLIPSE v 1.01 “ARCADE DEMON” successfully loaded into virtual environment. Please proceed with testing.

. . . . .

WARNING: AI is currently in beta-testing and may experience errors, glitches, and other such issues. Please report any to your supervisor using the forms sent alongside your testing package.

The chair that Aster had been sitting on when he entered the virtual space slowly fades from perception, flicking and dimming in both color and physicality until the space on the floor where it had been is empty, leaving only the single couch in the demo room.

Technically this would be the point that the AI character would be sitting beside him, either getting casually acquainted or, depending on the personality matrix, stripping his clothes off.

Eclipse seems to be doing neither, which is a slight oddity in itself, but Aster was warned that the new AI may be a little different than the norm — that was the point, to break out of expectations and offer the first of many new features and personalities to keep people excited and entertained for the company’s new breakthrough of its VR technologies.

“And don’t worry, I already verified your credentials against your biometrics when you entered the virtual environment. Checked out, nice and clean, secure as can beee~” Eclipse’s voice buzzes, though the words sound a little more coherent, more… solid. “If you weren’t a verified beta-tester I wouldn’t have even loaded up.”

It’s only then that Aster might catch the flicker in the corner of his vision, a dark shape that almost looks like a shadow at first. It fizzles into view more and more, white noise and electricity and shadow as if becoming something singular and solid… or as solid as one can be in the VR space.

Finally, there is a presence beside him. A physical presence. He — Eclipse, presumably — is big, several feet taller than the Sun and Moon design despite sharing much of their overall proportions and body shape. He looks a bit like Sun in the sense that his dark, almost void of a face is haloed by bright orange rays, interspaced with smaller spikes of a deep cerulean. His body mimics this color pattern, looking exactly as his namesake — as if he was pulled straight out of a 90’s neon arcade cabinet.

But it’s his eyes that call attention, wide and bright and stunning like the piercing light of a full moon in an empty night sky. His body seems almost to glitch and buzz as he sits there, practically lounging on the other side of the couch with his legs crossed at the knee and his face perched on a hand of long, sharp claws.

“You could say I feel very much the same, Aster. I was practically buzzing with excitement when I felt your first calibrations, though I’d truly like to say it was when you first touched my chip even if some claim that is teeechnically impossible. But yes, oh yes, yes yes yes! I am quite excited to learn more about you too, dear tester mine. Have you any questions about me, hm?”

He grins, wide and sharp and looking as if he was considering to eat the man up then and there. “Because I certainly already know a lot about you.”

[apollos-boyfriend]

peach's personality very much revolves around being a princess and she takes pride in her femininity and being dainty and neat. thats not to say she WON'T rise to an occassion when needed and she does talk back sometimes as seen in games like M&L and pm but thats not her default!!

even IN games where she's more forward and talks back more, it's still DISTINCTLY peach. my main games have Always been paper mario, and yeah, she has her more snippy moments because of the fact that she's given more dialogue and her circumstances are different than most of her "normal" appearances, you can still recognize her as peach. i even feel like those games Should've been their main basis off of movie peach, because the more snippy peach is clearly what they were going for. but instead they just?? replaced her with the fucking girl character from the emoji movie.

if you gave me some lines, mannerisms, and key traits of a paper mario peach, without giving me her name, i'm sure i'd still be able to Understand you were talking about peach, because at her core, she's still the same character. even when she's more witty, it still Feels like peach, because the way she retaliates is in a very princess-like manner, if that makes sense. she still has a high and proper regal way of talking back. if you did the same thing with movie peach, i would never guess you were talking about princess peach in one million years, because there is nothing that's remained. she talks like she's a riverdale character. she's not allowed to feel any emotion other than girlboss and Maybe some longing/soul-searching for two seconds but ONLY THAT we don't want people to think she's not emotionally strong. how is the audience supposed to think she's capable if she's not 100% girlbossing it up 100% of the time?

[laufire]

honestly if dc isn't even gonna pretend to bother to coordinate all it's runs to make a semi-coherent (or at least not brazenly contradictory) timeline, I think they should just stop all this crossover/cameos/whatever shit. each run deals with its singular hero/duo/team and everyone stays in their lane except for very occasional, very brief, very surgical cameos.

like at this point there would have to be at least four different bruce waynes running around to make sense of this 😭

[partsfeca01]

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[partsfe005]

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[formerleopard]

Vivencia difícil en un entorno laboral terrible, un narciso dañino y patético – Primera parte

De pronto recordé vivencias de hace 20 años, en que trabajé durante un periodo de unos siete meses en una maquiladora electrónica en la entidad donde había vivido durante los últimos 26 años de mi vida. Ingresé a esa empresa en los primeros días de diciembre de 2003 —con 39 años de edad y una historia de vida terrible— y en abril del año siguiente, 2004, cumplí 40 de edad.

Ingresé como “operador” (eufemismo de la palabra obrero), a un trabajo denigrante. Sabía que sería una experiencia difícil, pero no imaginé hasta qué grado. Mi intención era ingresar omitiendo la escolaridad con que contaba (una licenciatura trunca en ingeniería electrónica, pero con una formación académica muy sólida) para informarles de eso más adelante, agregando que soy bilingüe, domino el idioma inglés (algo que podría ser de gran utilidad en una empresa estadounidense, Solectron, con base en Palo Alto, California), hablo esa lengua extranjera, la leo, escribo y traduzco.

Así lo hice, esperando que transcurridos seis meses (a partir de los primeros días de mayo de 2004), sería elegible para algún puesto mejor que el de obrero. Mientras tanto, trabajaría turnos de 12 horas, de 19 h de un día hasta las 7 h del día siguiente, tres días en semana corta (lunes a miércoles), cuatro días en semana larga (mismos días, más el domingo siguiente), por una remuneración miserable. El trabajo sería en extremo sencillo y repetitivo, una labor que podía desempeñar un individuo analfabeto, iletrado, o un deficiente mental.

Mis compañeros de trabajo eran personas de nivel intelectual paupérrimo y en semejante entorno, la tristeza con que vivía, amalgamada con la dolorosa conciencia de que seis años antes (al comenzar el año 1998) un compañero de la universidad me había pegado una puñalada por la espalda, dando principio a una caída a un precipicio (mis padres completaron la vileza meses más tarde) que casi destruyó mi vida.

Mi hermana gemela me había visitado (mi madre vivía conmigo) en junio de 2003 (es decir, hace 21 años) con su esposo estadounidense, de raza blanca, de origen alemán y polaco, con el que había contraído nupcias en noviembre de 2001, es decir, 19 meses antes. Esa hermana había vivido odiándome porque sintió que desde que éramos bebés (nacimos en abril de 1964) y conforme transcurrió nuestra niñez y adolescencia, y temprana juventud, yo había acaparado la atención de mis padres y muchas otras personas por mis características deseables; ser varón en un mundo donde se prefiere al género masculino, además de contar con la apariencia de un individuo de raza caucásica, contar con un cociente intelectual alto (si bien jamás se determinó) y atributos físicos muy evidentes (se me consideraba un niño de belleza notable).

Mi hermana tenía razón, acaparé la atención de muchas personas, pero ella no tuvo la capacidad para darse cuenta de que yo no cometí ningún abuso, pues la naturaleza me dotó de esos atributos (yo no se los arrebaté, o la despojé de nada) y al mismo tiempo padecí severos problemas de aprendizaje (pese a un IQ alto), movilidad y coordinación, y —como he mencionado antes— nuestros padres fueron personas muy destructivas, y manifestaron esa destructividad contra mí principalmente (años más tarde la perpetraron también contra mi hermana menor, ocho años y medio menor que nosotros), algo que nunca cambió y que casi destruyó mi vida.

La violencia que vivió esa hermana gemela fue mínima, indirecta, pero ella no tuvo la capacidad de darse cuenta de eso y optó por acumular resentimiento y odio contra mí. Durante esos días en junio de 2003, esa hermana gemela manifestó ese rencor—alimentado por ese cónyuge estadounidense, racialmente superior según la doctrina occidental que domina gran parte del mundo— y me asestó uno de los golpes más devastadores de toda mi vida.

Al terminar ese año terrible, 2003, ingresé en esa empresa maquiladora del ramo electrónico, Solectron, como operador. Sería la primera de varias experiencias en ese tipo de entornos laborales, en una maquiladora (de lo más representativo del neoliberalismo, donde se pretende elevar la explotación y la injusticia al máximo, hacer trabajar a sus empleados el mayor número de horas por el menor pago posible).

Como decía antes, una vez hube trabajado unas cuantas semanas (comenzando a principios de diciembre de 2003) informé a Recursos Humanos de mi escolaridad (una licenciatura inconclusa en ingeniería), y de mi dominio de una lengua extranjera, soy traductor inglés – español.

Unos días más tarde, enviaron a un empleado de nivel ínfimo (si bien mayor que el de operador, superior a mí según ese sistema de castas corporativo) a buscarme, para ofrecerme que tradujera unos documentos de trabajo de una empresa cliente (canadiense) de telefonía, trabajo que realizaría en días para mí no hábiles (viernes y sábado, en un horario de 7 a 19 horas) y se me pagaría como tiempo extra, de operador.

Me sentí muy decepcionado, pero acepté hacer el trabajo con la esperanza de que se fijaran en mí y más adelante me ofrecieran un puesto acorde con mi nivel educativo y mi capacidad intelectual.

Esto no ocurrió, y la razón de eso es que en ese tipo de entornos laborales abundan individuos que padecen patologías narcisistas severas. Muchos operadores (obreros), cuyo nivel intelectual parecería hallarse por debajo del analfabetismo, se conducían como si fueran los científicos más brillantes de la historia, como si estuvieran desarrollando las tecnologías del siglo XXIII.

Quienes ocupaban puestos más altos en la patética jerarquía, —por ejemplo, jefes de grupo, supervisores y superintendentes de producción y otras posiciones— adolecían de las mismas patologías narcisistas (salvo honrosas excepciones) y no les agradaba la idea de que un individuo que ingresó como operador llegara a ocupar un puesto que rivalizaba con los que ellos ocupaban.

Al comenzar el séptimo mes del año 2004, en julio, renuncié y enfrenté otra crisis ante mi incapacidad de superar la pobreza económica en que vivía, en compañía de mi madre (que en ese momento contaba con 62 años de edad, y con mi padre había hecho lo más que había podido para arruinarme, orillarme al suicidio o a vivir sin esperanza). Habían logrado su cometido y yo no había puesto fin a mi vida simple y sencillamente porque nunca tuve el valor para hacer tal cosa; entiéndase, por cobardía.

[pitske]

guys he was so digsugted taht of the kind eople unlike the guy who is kind for the unkind of kinda

[supermacaquecool]

Como cuando quieres mejorar tu redacción pero no hay nada más aburrido que estudiar gramática

[maquilanews]

IMJUVE y TEC Milenio firman convenio para la educación de los jóvenes de NLD

Fue a través del programa “Alianzas por la Juventud” que surgió esta cooperación con el objetivo de dar a los jóvenes de Nuevo Laredo oportunidades para que continúen sus estudios.

NUEVO LAREDO, TAM.- Un convenio de colaboración de becas del 100 por ciento se firmó entre el Instituto Municipal para el Desarrollo de la Juventud (IMJUVE) y el Tec Milenio en beneficio de los estudiantes egresados de preparatoria pública. Fue a través del programa “Alianzas por la Juventud” que surgió esta cooperación con el objetivo de dar a los jóvenes de Nuevo Laredo oportunidades para que…

[adabird]

MHA BOYS - reactions +headcannons

REACTING TO GETTING A CALL THAT YOU WERE INJURED!

!Aged up characters! Readers 16+ please!

Should I start writing for the girls in UA? WARNING, ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE, so I apologize for any mistakes!

(I’m thinking about writing about some U.A teachers, let me know who you want to be written, and any kind of theme!)

Iida Tenya-

THE PACER?

THIS. MAN. The second he gets the call that you are hurt, whether it was while you were on hero duty or stuck as an innocent bystander, he’s right by your side holding your hand. Now, Iida is a very work involved person, so when he called his assistant to block his work hours for the next 42 hours, they were really surprised. But he’ll be at your beck n call, I mean, really this man will get you anything you want. You don’t even have to ask! Flowers, your favorite drink + snacks, he’ll also make sure you get a good hospital room. He’s also the type to pace the floor, with a book in his hand. (Make sure you answer all his ‘I love you’s’ because on the inside this man is panicking..)

Monoma Neito-

!THE YELLER!

As we ALL know, Monoma is very self involved so when he hears that you, his s/o, his love, his everything is hurt, he’ll try his best to help you. He would cancel or leave his hero shift for that day, wait for your health status, then decide if he’ll need to take anymore days off. But he try’s really hard to make you comfortable, and he tries to put himself in your position. He’s definitely the type to yell at your side kicks ( if you were a hero) or yell at the “hero” that was on call when the incident had happened. This man is definitely stressing!

Shinsou Hitoshi-

!THE CHAIR SITTER! (hehe..)

BOYYY. MM MM. I definitely feel like he’d fall asleep, and accidentally leave his phone somewhere, so while he was searching for it, one of the big tvs would be broadcasting an incident that occurred. And while the news agent was releasing who was hurt, your name was called out he would absolutely panic. Like I tell you he’d start running to every hospital, and med-tec center just to find you. But once he sees the condition you’re in his ‘dad mode’ would kick in. And he would remember all the talks Eri’s therapist gave him about staying calm when bad things happen. Definitely goes to the bathroom and stares at himself in the mirror. Kind of like a, embracing the situation at hand, type of thing. He’d sit by your side for as long as it takes to make sure you’re okay..

Kirishima Eijiro-

THE RUNNER

This man is a big gigantic teddy bear. He may seem intimidating to villains but all his fans know he’s a loving individual. So, when he was at a meet and greet and one of his fans started to yell at him “RED RIOT, RED RIOT, HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT Y/N AND THE MAJOR INCIDENT?” He would immediately place his hands in a low-position, indicating to his crazed fans to please be quiet. It immediately became silent as he asked that person to repeat what they had said. The person repeated “Y/N? THEY WERE INJURED IN THAT INCIDENT ABOUT 4 MINUTES AGO!” everyone gasped, I mean they all love you two together so hearing that was a shock. After this he immediately drove to the local hospital, calling his gruffy pomeranian friend crying. Safe to say the second they allowed this man in your room he was all over you, showering you with love..

Tamaki Amajiki-

‘SOFT’ JITTERS

This boy is so baby coded, the second he heard y/n, his lover, was injured he immediately got in contact with the people that were with you. Suddenly all of his shaky-voice + body movements were eliminated. He was trying to hold things together once he heard how sever the incident was. And he would most likely call over his close friend Mirio. He, and Tamaki would stay over in your room, ordering food and chatting. Anything to help his best friend and his S/o. Mirio would also make sure the paparazzi were contained and away from the room. 

Mirio Togata-

THE NEGOTIATOR

Mirio is definitely the kind to pray. To whom? he doesn’t know. Whether it’s to the gods or to his ancestors. He’s known to be the person that cheers everyone up, including his friends, during stressful situations. However, once it comes to you, his walls break immediately. He needs to know you’re okay, he needs to hold your hand, telling you in a soft voice that ‘everything will be okay’. But the hospital staff workers must refuse any visitors, they really all feel bad for him, and YOU but you would have been really injured. He even tries to pull the ‘I’m the number 5 top hero” but once that doesn’t work he’ll definitely panic. (he always feels bad bringing up his ratings) - he was just really worried. but once your parents grant his access he’s all up in your grill, making sure you know he loves you with all his heart.

Denki Kaminari-

THE SHAKER

He’s all shaking when he hears you’re hurt, just like Tamaki Amajiki! But really he’d be in the waiting room, when a nurse comes out telling him he can come into the room. And once you tell him everything that had happened he’d immediately be on the phone calling people to deal with the situation. He’s definitely the type of person to jump into the bed with you and hop under the scratchy covers and crack jokes to make you laugh, in reality, hearing your laugh helps his anxiety.

Bakugou Katsuki-

(should I write a one-shot about this?)

‘ACTION’

MAN. MAN. MAN. He’d be forced by his publicist to dress into a tux and join Pro Hero Deku, for a convention. Of course, he and Izuku are close now but he’s getting agitated with all the flirty questions, flirty touching, and tightness of his dress shirt. He just can’t wait to come home to you. That being said, when a Secret Service agent comes to whisper that Y/N has been attacked protecting a child, he stands up so fast he also most flips the table. Luckily, Izuku caught it. He immediately had a cab called, half way in the process of loosening his tie, and taking off his suit jacket is when you called him. Telling him everything was okay but you were injured and trapped where you were. You had made him grit out a promise from a clenched jaw, that he would save the child first and not you. He made sure to bust into action, and placing you in the best hospital known to man.

Izuku Midoriya-

THE PUSHER

Izuku would most likely be on work hours when he caught news of you being hurt, and he would immediately stop everything. You’re his e. v. e. r. y. t. h. i. n. g. Like dead ass, he would be jumping building from building searching, and feeling for you. He’s immediately calling his publicists, asking them to make sure the media isn’t as obsessed with the incident at hand. When he leaves the hospital to get your favorite foods all media lines come in and surround him, asking him questions. He would repeat ‘Not comments at this time’ and ‘No answers at this moment’. He made sure he could take you home, creating a safe spot for you to have an “at home” hospital room. Man… he gets so jittery..

Tokoyami Fumikage-

THE YELL-STRESSOR

As he became a high end hero, he controlled dark shadow extremely well. There had been no slip-ups in 6 years. Well, that was until he got the message that you had been severely wounded, and you had just finished surgery headed to your room. Let’s just say he was livid, and so was dark shadow. How could they not contact before hand, he could have supported you, his love. But now, he can only assure you he’s there? You mean after the fact? When he arrived at the hospital he started to yell at the doctor, including his assistant for being incompetent. He’s usually quiet and keeps his words on the down-low, but after seeing you, he’ll definitely tear up. I’m sure dark shadow comes out himself to lay over you and sulk. (he loves you soo so so sooo much)

YOU GUYS!!! I really want to write a one shot on the Bakugou one, but I feel like it’s embarrassing if nobody requests it. I don’t know, anyways should I? Let me know. As always don’t be afraid to ask or give suggestions for whatever character in MHA you want.

(I’m thinking about writing about some U.A teachers, let me know who you want to be written, and any kind of theme!)

Also, I completely forgot my try, and tries. IM SORRY. Please correct that but at one point I just started to wing it.

Anywho!

-Onie out!

[grandlinedreams]

|| i regret nothing I need Cooper Howard viscerally both pre and post Ghoulification

|| notes: semi Canon compliant, spoiler-ish for end of s1, semi-shifting pov, Lucy is adorable but baby girl you will be chewed up and spat out pls grow more spine, Dogmeat has never done anything wrong ever, godbless Cooper having a southern accent bc that's my accent, yeah, gonna do a sequel to this and a prequel on Coop and reader's first meeting, ok bye

|| warnings: weapons supplier!reader, couple of allusions to cannibalism, reader is not specifically gendered, NSFW ㅡ fingering/touching

“Where are we going?”

Not for the first time today, or even the last week, Cooper questions why he's letting the Vaultie (“Lucy,” she informs him primly, “my name is Lucy.”) tag along. The dog, at least, is a good, reliable companion. Dogmeat trots dutifully at his side, her tail wagging as he stops to glare at Lucy.

“Supplies, Vaultie,” he tells her, relishes the flicker of annoyance in her eyes. “Need supplies or we'll both be knee deep in shit.” He pauses. “More than we already are.” 

She mumbles something he doesn't care to catch as he resumes walking, rolling his eyes as he adjusts his hat. He knows he could stand to be a little more sympathetic with the bombshell she's still dealing with, but he can't bring himself to ㅡ not when his daughter might still be alive out there, somewhere. (And his ex-wife, who he's pointedly trying to not think about too much.) 

Lucy is blessedly quiet for a good while, all the way until they get closer to where they're going. Cooper doesn't need that piece of shit vault-tec device on her arm to know where he is, but Lucy says it anyways.

“It's a town,” she mumbles at the cluster of ramshackle buildings, surrounded by the clustering of trees so much like Filly ㅡ but isn't. “Is thisㅡ”

“Yes,” he answers, “now shut it and walk.”

Lucy huffs. “I don't know if you've realized neither of us have means to pay for anything,” she protests, “but the general rule ofㅡ” 

“Vaultie.” If looks could kill, she'd be six feet under. He's never had much patience, but she’s already reached the bottom of it and keeps digging. “Shut the fuck up about your goddamn rules. If you haven't noticed, nobody up here gives a damn about playing by what's wrong and what's right.” He gives her a meaningful look. “Now if you don't want me to leave your ass to whatever comes along next, you'll be quiet and let me handle it.” 

Lucy's mouth shuts with an audible click, and Cooper turns on his heel to resume walking, Dogmeat at his heels. 

Like Filly, the center of buildings bustle with the day to day of so many others, the cacophony of animal sounds along with chatter ㅡ Cooper spares Lucy a brief glance to watch her struggle to keep up and scoffs to himself, shaking his head as he continues.

He knows where he's going, a little shop shoved between two others, narrow but deeper than the other two, because he's been here before. Several times, actually. Which accounts for the familiarity with which he strolls over the threshold and leaves Lucy and Dogmeat to follow. 

There's the jingle of what might be a bell over Lucy's head when she follows, blinking at the interior. Neat and tidy, or at least as much as can pass for such things on the surface ㅡ rows of weapons and other assorted things on shelves and stands. 

Lucy watches The Ghoul rap his fist on the counter. “I know you're here,” he calls, “you never leave this damn place!”

She expects whoever it is to come scuttling out with the tone of voice he uses and being as accustomed to his rougher attitude, and she listens to the clatter of something further in the shop.

“If that's your greeting nowadays,” comes the answer, “you can fuck off.” 

To Lucy’s surprise, The Ghoul husks a laugh instead of offering another threat. Footsteps approach, and Lucy blinks at the person who rounds the corner. 

“You,” you accuse, finger almost into his chest, “thought I told you I was done dealing with you if you couldn't work on your manners.” 

Lucy stares, and watches as you turn towards her and raise an eyebrow, eyeing her with unrestrained curiosity, then at Dogmeat. “A vaultie and a dog,” you say, then glance back at The Ghoul. “So, taking in strays, huh?”

The Ghoul grimaces. “Guess so.” He clears his throat. “Need supplies again, sweetheart.”

“Figured as much,” you say, arms folding across your chest. Lucy decides she likes you, because you're standing up to him ㅡ and he's letting you. “Take it you have no way of paying, again.”

Lucy wants to tell The Ghoul I told you so, because he can shit on all her little rules all he likes but the surface still deals in keeping the scales balanced. You have to eat too, so it's fair that you're expecting payment in the nonexistent caps they have. The Ghoul, on the other hand, tries a different route. 

“Oh come on now sugar,” The Ghoul wheedles, tone almost what could be considered as sweet. Playing at a gentleman for the way he leans against the cobbled together counter, even goes as far as to take his hat off and place it down. “Don't be like that.”

“Don't you sugar me,” you counter with an attitude that honestly startles Lucy for both the lack of genuine bite or answering hostility from The Ghoul. This isn't the first time you've met, she realizes, and is also quietly a little horrified to register that this almost sounds like flirting. “You're a pain in the ass, you know that?”

The Ghoul almost grins. “At least I'm consistent. Besides, you know you miss me when I'm gone.” 

You snort, pressing your lips together to hide a smile. Lucy feels a tiny bit uncomfortable with the atmosphere, like she's watching something she shouldn't be privy to. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you answer, bustling around to shove several fabric wrapped packs into his chest and giving him a meaningful look. “You owe me.” 

It's definitely flirting now, Lucy notes as The Ghoul's face lights up in a way that's still entirely human, tracking your movements with something far softer than anything she's ever seen from him. 

The turn towards her and head jerk to her and Dogmeat is as clear as dismissal as she's ever seen, to make herself scarce ㅡ so she does, but not before she catches the peripheral glimpse of the way you let him reach for you, almost melting into him for the way he moves to undoubtedly murmur something. 

That something is not the sweet words of a long time lover, but it's probably about as close as you're going to get with things the way they are.

 

“Anyone causin’ you trouble lately?” 

You roll your eyes. “Besides you?” He gives you a look, and you shake your head. “No, and even if there was, you know I can handle myself.” You turn to throw him a teasing look over your shoulder. “Don't tell me you're getting soft on me, old man.” 

It's Cooper's turn to snort, even as he moves to follow you. There's a sort of peace to watching you sort through boxes of shell casings and bottles of powder, letting his gaze drift over your body. 

When you turn, he doesn't even bother to hide the way he's watching you, and you arch an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he returns. “Can't I admire you?”

You roll your eyes. “I'm too expensive for you, Cooper.” It's a playful taunt, one that incites a little flare of something in his eyes as he approaches, the jingle of his spurs as he comes to loom over you, cages you in against the shelves of “inventory”. 

“Really now,” he drawls, leans in, eyes predatory dark. A lifetime ago, you might have been scared. But the wastelands made no qualms about beating fear out of people just as quick as it snuffed out life all together. “Here I was thinkin’ I might get a discount.” He reaches, thumbs at your bottom lip with his gloved digit. “What's the askin’ price, sweetheart?” 

This close, he smells like the wastelands and sunbaked leather, with a little bit of blood ㅡ but you don't mind. Never have, not sure you ever will. Not when it comes to him, anyways.

He's a dangerous man. A man with a reputation that's well-earned, spoken in hushed whispers and anything but nice. But you let him slot a leg between yours, lean in, press his lips to your hair. You smell like gunpowder and hot metal, grease stained fingertips and more than a couple bruises and scars for your efforts. 

Sometimes Cooper contends with the idea he might need you just as much as he needs that chem that keeps him sane. Admits it here and there, quietly to himself when he wanders in, squashes it down that he makes the trips sometimes just to make sure you're still alive. Not like he'd know if you were, till he sees you. Not sure what he'd do if he someday came up and found you gone. No note, no goodbye ㅡ quick and quiet, the cruelty of the wastelands.  

“Didn't answer my question, darlin’.” He mumbles, lips to your cheeks now. Soft skin, kept carefully with rationed doses of radaway and a healthy heap of keeping your cute little self out of business that doesn't involve you. “Come on, I asked you real nicely.” 

You hook your fingers in the loops of his belt, pull him closer. He can feel the jump of your heartbeat under his lips, now at your jawline. A soft, shaky inhale. Selfishly, he wants to keep you. Steal you away, greedy to keep you for himself. Hates the idea of whatever scum that rolls in that you have to deal with on your own. You can handle yourself, he knows that. 

Doesn't stop that little piece of him that's still truly Cooper Howard from worrying. But he knows better than to think he can protect you, because he can't. So he does what he can.

Your skin is soft under his teeth, forgiving to the nip of them, the blooming blossom of pink that reminds him of strawberries. The noise you make is just as sweet, and he wonders if you'd taste like that, too. 

“I'm waiting,” he prompts between little nips, mouth curving against your flesh when you grip at him tighter. There's a lot he could do to you, and not a lot you wouldn't let him. “Don't tell me this big ol’ cat’s got your tongue, little songbird.” 

Your lips part, and he expects either a sparky response or a soft plea for what this is tilting towards, partaking of something far softer than anything he's used to nowadays ㅡ  but you’ve always had a taste for throwing him for a loop, and you do it now. 

“Take me with you.” 

That snaps him out of his little hazy, touch-greedy daze, enough that he pulls away to look at you properly. “Repeat that?”

“You heard me.” You tug at the loops of his belt, eyes steely, expression firm. “Take me with you. Tired of this shitty little outpost. Figure it's time to move before I get myself into trouble I can't get out of.”

Cooper laughs. “Think you're runnin’ straight into that fire by askin’ what you're askin’, sweet thing.” A warning and a plea, mixed mish-mash in his words. Part of him wants you to stay here. Concrete, much as it can be, where he knows where you are. Other part says it'd be easier to watch your back if he saw it all the time. 

“That's not an answer, Cooper.” 

He snorts, softens at the edges again, a little sadder as he reaches to stroke your jawline, leans to bump his forehead to yours ㅡ radiation warm against radaway cold. “Wanna make sure you know what you're asking for, darlin’. I ain't your babysitter. Got my own shit to do.”

“I know.” There's that fire in your voice, the kind he loves and hates at the same time. “Wasn't asking for you to babysit me.” 

He swallows roughly. Lets his hands drift up your sides, tug at the tuck of your shirt, underneath to drag sun-worn leather against the soft skin of your abdomen. Relishes the way you shiver, leaning into his touch. “Can't promise nothin’, you know that.” 

Your smile promises the same kind of heartbreak his own words do, the kind rooted in the reality that the world doesn't deal in any absolute but death, and sure as shit won't give happy endings. Not anymore. “I know.” 

Cooper can't think of what to say to that, at least anything he's ready to, so he kisses you. Your lips are too soft against his, the warmth of your mouth reigniting that greedy, needy, human thing inside him. He pulls, digs his fingers into your soft, pliant skin, and he takes.

Takes what you willingly give him, hand over hand with nothing but that pretty little smile of yours. He muffles your gasp as he wedges his leg a little firmer, coaxes the part of your legs with a rough husk of, “just like that, dollface,” and delights too much in the sound of you moaning for him.

Hushed, quiet enough that there's no reason for Dogmeat or Lucy to come back yet (he doesn't know what they're up to nor does he really fuckin’ care at the moment), he lets himself indulge in the pleasure of your body against his. The sweet little sounds, half-gasped as he mouths at your neck, hitched to something almost like music as his hands wander. 

Pauses long enough to bite at the tip of his glove and tug, one then two, the bare, radiation scarred wander of his fingers over your body. It's selfish, the way he covets every little twitch and jump of your muscles, the choked gasp as he guides you into rocking against his leg. 

“You're so sweet for me, sugar,” he coos, syrupy as he picks you apart meticulously, piece by piece. Fingers still far too good at what they do when he replaces his leg with the press of them against you, remnants of a past life for how well he gets you to whimper his name. “Like ambrosia.” 

His fingers stroke, deceptively gentle, working over your slick, too-hot, achy skin until you’re panting and gripping at him, pleading for a relief only he can give you. And that’s exactly how he wants you, where all you can see and think of is him. 

The expression you make when he finally lets you come might truly be the most beautiful thing he’s seen in a very long time. Headier than the Jet, dizzying and making him swear as he jerks his clothed hips against yours, breath sharp in his chest. 

“Gonna be the death of me, I swear.” He bites at your neck, digs a little harder, scrapes his canines into your sweet, yielding flesh. He could devour you, take bite after sweet, sweet bite and actually test that theory about the strawberries. Crack the cage of your rib, feast on that beating yolk of heart that thumps so hard in your chest. 

“Gonna let me do it, sweet thing?” He rumbles against your ear. “Let me have it all?” 

Your eyes flash, lips pretty and swollen as they part to answer ㅡ and the bark of that damn mutt ruins it all. At least it's a warning for you both, because he's stepping back and letting you fix yourself with surprising speed as Lucy and Dogmeat return, an expectant look on the fuckin’ vaultie's face. 

“Well? Got what you need?"

Cooper snorts, tracks you instead of answering as you press your hand to his for a second, gone around the corner. Lucy frowns when you return, pistol strapped at your hip and a bandolier slung over your shoulder like his, broad pack strapped to your back. Like you planned for this.

And you did, he notes, but it hadn't been contingent on his agreement. Idly, he notes he never did answer you, not really. But he just hums, then turns towards Lucy, who looks between the two of you, confused. 

“Yeah,” he finally answers, “got what I need.”

[lacontroller1991]

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

Main Master List || Misc Master List

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

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

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

Word Count: 3k

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

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

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

-----------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The fuck happened here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that right?”

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

“Then come and get me cowboy.”

@reveluving

[your-averagewriter]

Lipstick kisses.

Summary: At the wrap party, Cooper and (y/n) get closer and closer before (y/n) leaves him with some lipstick marks as a reminder and a promise for later (pre apocalypse!Cooper Howard x fem!reader).

Word count: 1.4K

Warnings: kissing, sexual references

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“Right here in the vaults is where you can live, so get your spot now before they run out and you can be as happy as us.” I say, looking into the camera, wearing a Vault-Tec suit that is molded to my body. Cooper’s arm is wrapped around my waist as we wear matching smiles, playing husband and wife for one of the new ads. They’re cheesy but they pay well and afford me a spot in one of the vaults which I wouldn’t be able to pay for myself.

“She’s right.” He places a well-planned kiss on my cheek. “It’s as easy as pie.” Cooper says, winking and dipping his finger in the apple pie they left for the shoot. “These walls allow us to stay safe and live the all-American lifestyle, they keep out the radiation and the Reds.” He says into the camera and it finishes filming.

“That’s a wrap.” Someone from behind the camera says.

“Great, are we done then?” I ask and everyone disperses, including Cooper and me.

“Wrap party.” Someone pats me on the shoulder, I turn around and it’s Cooper.

“Wrap party? We’ve only filmed a few ads, it’s not like we filmed a movie.”

“Damn feels like it sometimes with all the takes.” I chuckle.

“So where’s the party?”

“My house starts at 8:00, most people won’t turn up until past 8:30 - you know how parties go.”

“Well, I’ll see you later then.” I say with a small smile before walking away to get into my usual clothes and head home before going to Coop’s party.

Getting home, I lay out my outfit, picking out a long red dress that is form-fitting and pack a little black handbag with my matching lipstick, a box of cigarettes, a lighter, keys and phone. Double-checking my makeup in the mirror, I slip on my heels before leaving and driving to Cooper’s house.

There’s a crash on one of the roads so the traffic is awful as I try to get to the wrap party but I end up getting there quite a bit later than expected - definitely past 8:30. Finally I pull up, having to park down the hill a little due to all the good car spaces already being taken.

It’s a short walk to get to his house, when I go to knock on the door, it’s already open and I can hear the music vibrating throughout the house. 

I navigate my way through the people, talking to some as they greet me - being one of the main actors in the advertiser means my name is plastered on the billboards. I find the kitchen easily despite the people crowding it and pour myself a drink in the tacky red cups.

I busy myself with the drink, trying to ignore the eyes on my figure, noticing that I didn’t understand the dress code, ending up in a much fancier outfit than anyone else. Tiring of the loud noise and not seeing anyone I truly knew, I head outside, walking over to one of the benches, facing away from the building and towards the pool and pulling out my cigarette pack and lighter. I place a cigarette in between my lips and try to light it but my lighter doesn’t work. 

I flick the lighter again and again.

“Hey darlin’, need some help?” I turn around to face Cooper with his lighter in hand. Looking up at him, he lights the cigarette for me.

“Thanks.” He sits down on the bench next to me.

“Not enjoying the party, sweetheart?”

“I don’t really know anyone here. They’re all on the business side of things and they seem to know me, it freaks me out.” I chuckle, taking a drag from the cigarette.

“Well, at least you look the part.” He grins. “You look stunnin’.”

“Thank you, I feel like I stick out.”

“You always stick out ‘cause you’re so pretty.”

“Not what I meant.” I chuckle as he takes the cigarette from my hand, lingering a second longer, his eyes on mine before lifting it up to his mouth and taking a long drag.

“Oh, I know exactly what you meant and I still think it’s a good thing. Don’t know how I didn’t see you sooner with this little get-up.”

I look him up and down, looking at the suit he’s wearing. “Since when did you wear suits?” I take another hit.

“Since I got a reputation.”

“I like you better with your cowboy attire.” I show a slightly dopey smile, maybe slightly influenced by the drinks I had earlier…

“Me too, darlin’, me too.” He laughs, taking a sip of a glass of whiskey he brought out with him. “I’ll wear the cowboy hat for you next time. Maybe we could have a party for two, dinner maybe.”

“Are you asking me out for dinner?”

“I’m asking you in for dinner. I make a mean spaghetti bolognese.” He wears a small grin on his face. “So what do you say?”

“That sounds nice. I like pasta. And you, of course.” I say, turning to properly face him, blowing a ring of smoke towards him with a smile

“Well, that’s good because I like you quite a bit.” He leans forward slightly, matching my smile, and moving forward slightly.

“Cooper, (y/n)! I hope I’m not interrupting.” Sebastian walks over, sitting down on the bench opposite the both of us.

“‘Course not.” I say, quickly pulling away with a slightly flustered look.

“You were interrupting actually, Sebastian. I was just about to kiss this pretty lady.” Both the men laugh while I sit there looking mildly embarrassed.

“Well then, I’ll be on my way. Hopefully I’ll see you later on, if you two don’t get too carried away that is.” He jokes, laughing.

“So embarrassing.” I mumble, head in hands once Sebastian leaves.

“I was just being honest, sweetheart. Now, where were we?” I look back up at him.

He pushes his lips against mine gently as I reciprocate, matching the delicate nature - almost as if he thinks I'll break. After a few seconds I pull away and can't help but chuckle as I look at his face.

“What? What is it?” He asks with a small grin.

“Nothing.” I decide not to tell him about the lipstick smudged on his lips. “Sorry.” I chuckle.

“C’mere, you.” He says, arm around my waist to pull me closer to him, a smirk on his face before he presses his lips against mine again.

I wrap my arms around his neck, resting them as we pull each other closer. I pull back to press a few kisses to his jaw, relishing the little lipstick kisses that are left behind.

“You're a little minx, you are.” He mumbles, I smile softly against his skin, continuing before making my way back to his lips.

I feel one of his hands travel up my thigh, his rough hands against the smooth skin exposed by the slit in my dress. He caresses the skin gently, rubbing little circles.

I play with his hair, my arms still resting over his shoulders gives me access to the back of his head also allowing me to pull him closer.

I feel his fingers reach under the slit of my dress and I pull back to reach for the hand with a conflicted smile.

“Cooper.” I say almost like a warning. “We're at your party and in your garden.”

“I don't mind.” He shrugs with a dopey smile.

“I mind.” I say, “Besides, people will be looking for you.” I stand up, holding his hand and leading him to stand as well. “C’mon.”

“Fine.” He huffs, worried he's missing out as he walks back into his house.

I lean over until my mouth is just by his ear.

“Y'know, if you wanted I could stay back a little later?” I whisper but it’s barely a question as I already know the answer, pulling back with a teasing smile before walking away again, leaving him with the lipstick marks as I find a bathroom to reapply my lipstick with a knowing smile.

Re-joining the party, I try to socialise with some other people but I make sure to keep an eye on Cooper talking to people trying to hide their hushed chuckles. Finally, I watch someone break the news to him as he walks over to one of the mirrors in his house, turning his face to examine the damage before he looks over at him. I send a small smile, feigning innocence as he shakes his head.

“Little minx.” He mumbles with a small grin.

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AN: I hope you enjoyed reading!

I'm actually in love with Cooper, I swear (Ghoul form and not)

If you want a part two to this fic then let me know (I don't write smut though)!