danielcooperrp

[danielcooperrp]

Shake the House Down

“It’s a party.”

“I know that.”

“Really? Because the way you’re pacing suggests you think you’re headed for a firing squad.”

Drew makes a face at his boyfriend, who is lounging languidly on Drew’s bed. Drew, as Xander astutely noted, is pacing a line from the door to the window, wringing his hands. “Is it a big party?”

Xander tosses a hockey puck up into the air and catches it with a nonchalance that only exacerbates Drew’s anxiety. “Delta Lambda Phi can usually pull a crowd. It’s the queer frat, so it’ll probably pull people from the other universities in town.”

There is some comfort in knowing that the party Xander wants them to go to is being thrown by a queer fraternity. When Drew thinks “frat bro,” he doesn’t exactly think of friends. And Drew grew up in queer spaces, raised by queer parents—a house full of people like him should be fine. 

He stops his pacing to look at Xander. “Do you...never mind.” He starts pacing again. 

“Ah ah ah.” Xander hauls himself off of the bed to stand in front of Drew. Drew is actually only an inch shorter than his boyfriend, but because Xander is so much larger, the height difference feels much more dramatic. “Talk to me, Cooper. What is your brain whizzing about?”

“Well...” Drew doesn’t meet his gaze. “Do you know a lot of people who are going to be there?”

“Uh, sure, I guess. Some people from Pride, this very funny lesbian from my microeconomics class, and a bunch of people from the frat...”

“No, I mean...you know. Exes.”

There’s a pause, and then Xander bursts out laughing. “Cooper...” Xander wraps his arms around Drew. Warmth floods Drew’s body, right down to his toes. “You are worrying for nothing. I’m excited for everyone to meet you, my very smart, very sexy, very silly boyfriend. Will some of my exes be there? Maybe. I don’t know and I don’t care. I’m there with you. If you’ll go with me.”

Drew nods into his chest. Then he looks up. “Just promise not to make out with some guy in the bathroom.”

“Mmm, no shot.” Drew’s eyebrows furrow. “I am definitely making out with at least one guy while I’m there.” Then he grins and presses his lips to Drew’s.

_____

The frat house looks like any other brownstone littering the streets of Boston, except for the ten-foot cardboard cut-out of a pop star that Drew is sure he’s supposed to know but can’t remember the name of. As they walk up, the music is pounding, and Drew instinctually wants to go apologize to the neighbors.

Xander convinced him to dress down for the evening—apparently sweaters and collared shirts are not the prescribed attire for such an affair—so Drew is in a plain white T-shirt that fits more snugly than he’s used to and a pair of dark skinny jeans. Xander’s even more relaxed in 70s-style basketball shorts and a mesh tank top. He had tried to coax Drew into something similar, but gave up when he saw the panic in Drew’s face at the sigh of hot pink boyshorts. Besides, Drew couldn’t help but notice the way Xander’s eyes and hands kept gravitating toward his butt in these jeans. 

As soon as they’re inside, they’re swarmed with people, but in a rare occurrence for Drew, they’re not interested in him. Xander is being pulled in every direction by the most colorful group of drunk folks he’s ever seen. 

“Is that Alexander?”

“We though you died, where have you been—”

“The boy catches a few touchdowns and it’s out with the queers—”

“—those shorts, now I know why they call you tight end—”

“—not that I’m trying to play into stereotypes, sweetie, but the sink has been dripping for days—”

Drew can barely hear the fawning over the music, so he looks around at the party. It’s wall-to-wall people with the most eclectic fashion senses ever gathered under one roof: evening gowns and body glitter and flannel and sleeve tattoos and undercuts and lots and lots of naked skin. Somehow, Xander extract himself from his welcoming committee and pulls Drew by the hand into a room with some IKEA couches and an enormous fish tank.

“Sorry about that,” he says, voice raised to compete with the music. “I have been around as much. I guess they noticed.”

“Why haven’t you been around?”

Xander fixes his gaze on Drew. “I met a guy.” Drew flushes. “Now come on, let me show you off.”

_____

Xander tours Drew around, introducing him to what feels like every queer person under 25 in Boston. He’s careful to use his first name only, for which Drew is grateful; the last thing he needs is someone making a family connection right now. 

After a hour or so, they’re in the kitchen, each with a Solo cup in hand. Drew doesn’t exactly know what he’s drinking, but the taste isn’t objectionable, and he’s two cups in and feeling a little looser than usual. Xander squeezes his hand and says in his ear, “You mind if I leave you here for a minute? They really want me to take a look at their bathroom sink?”

Drew makes a face. “What did say about making out with guys in the bathroom?”

Xander grins. “Only you, Cooper.” He kisses Drew’s neck, which sends a thrill down his spine, and disappears into the crowd.

Drew drifts around the kitchen, peeking into cabinets, grabbing food off of plates that keep floating in and out of the room. He gets himself another cup of whatever alcoholic drink is in the bowl on the counter, and when he turns to walk away, someone is there, smiling at him. 

“Hi.”

“Um, hi.” Drew is pretty sure that this guy, blonde with deeply tanned skin, is not one of the myriad people he’s already been introduced to. This guy is looking at Drew in a way that feels foreign.

“I’m Mark.”

“Drew.” He starts to edge away, but Mark deftly steps in front of him.

“Haven’t seen you around before.”

“Oh. I’m new. I mean, to the...fraternity...party...scene...” His ears redden in embarrassment.

“Well then, tonight’s your lucky night.” Marks takes a step forward and bends to whisper in Drew’s ear. “I’d love to show you a good time.”

Drew freezes, unsure what to do. He hates conflict with all of his being, but he doesn't know how to get out of this situation. There are people everywhere, but no one is paying attention to the quiet kid in the corner. As his eyes scan the room for a face he recognizes, he feels a hand on his butt, and his entire body jolts. 

He remember something his father told him before he left for college. I want you to have fun, and I want you to discover all of the secrets of yourself. But please remember that some people are going to see how quiet you are, and they are going to think that you belong to them. I don’t care what you have to do or who you have to do it to—you have to let them know that you don’t.

The ground begins to shake beneath him, slow at first, and then more violently. His head is swimmy but he manages to shove Mark back. 

“What the fuck?” Mark splutters.

The ground is shaking even more now; the bowl of whatever drink vibrates off of the counter and onto the floor. People start to scream and clamor for the exits, but no one notices Drew, hands balled into fists at his sides, staring down some douche in a tank top and jean cutoffs. 

Someone barrels into the kitchen. “Cooper?” Xander pauses to take stock of the tableau before him. “Oh, fuck.” He checks marks out of the way to stand in front of Drew. “Cooper? Cooper, come on, it’s okay.” He catches Drew’s eyes. “Look at me, Hey. You gotta stop the shaking before someone gets hurt.”

Drew closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. After a minute, the earth settles into silence. Drew opens his eyes. “I’m so—”

“Hang on.” Xander whips around to glower at Mark, who shrinks back. “What the fuck are you doing here? I thought everyone made it clear that you weren’t gonna set foot in this building after what you did last spring.”

Mark feigns boldness with a scoff. “Whatever. Take your mutant boy, I don’t want any part of that shit.”

Xander takes a threatening step forward and Mark scurries off. Then he turns back to Drew. “What did he—”

“Nothing. That was stupid. I was stupid.” He feels like he could sleep for days.

“Mark is a creep who likes trolling parties for freshman boys. Delta Lambda Phi banned him a long time ago, but...Drew, I’m so sorry.”

Drew shakes his head. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Xander looks like he wants to argue, but he puts an arm around Drew’s shoulder and pulls him in close. “Come on, let’s get you home.” He steers him toward the back door, where he fewer people had run out.

“I’m sorry for ruining the party,” Drew mumbles, eyes sliding shut.

A pair of lips press into the crown of his head. “You could never ruin anything, Drew.” 

#v1 #drabble #drew #xander #this is all i do now #i just write drabbles of drew and xander

[danielcooperrp]

Game Plan

this takes place sometime after this drabble

“I need you to teach me everything about football.”

Anna and Aidan sit on the twins’ couch, watching their brother jitter nervously before them. Anna squints, tilts her head, and says to her sister, “Hm...what do we think, LMD?”

“Skrull.”

“Stress-induced mania?”

Drew flaps his hands nervously. “Shut up! Xander wants me to go to the game this Saturday and I don’t know anything! He’s going to be so disappointed!”

“D, he’s, like, met you, right?” Aidan asks.

“For once in your life, Aidan—”

“What I mean is, he knows that you know nothing about football, doesn’t he?”

“I mean, sure.”

“And he wants to date you anyway.”

“Yeah.”

“Then please explain the problem.”

Drew throws himself dramatically in an armchair they inherited from their great-grandmother’s house. “Okay, I’m going to go to the game, and I’m not going to have any idea what’s going on for four hours, and then when it’s over we’re going to meet up for dinner and I’m not going to be able to talk about it! He’ll think I wasn’t paying attention!”

Anna rolls her eyes. “Drew, you have completely missed the point of this entire exercise.”

He looks at her with suspicion. “What do you mean?”

“Do you think Xander gives a rat’s ass if you know what he’s doing out there? Hell no! In fact, it’s probably better for him that you don’t know what’s going on, because everything seems impressive when you don’t know the difference between a twenty-yard bomb down the field and a muffed handoff for a loss of three.”

Drew scrunches his nose. “Is...the bomb the bad one?”

“No, and that’s my point. Drew, Xander invited you so that he can impress you with his physical prowess and so, when it’s all over, you can tell him how great his ass looked in those pants.”

“Which it does,” Aidan chimes in. “In case you were wondering.” Drew sticks his tongue out at her.

“And if you want to learn about football, then let him teach you. He’s not a test you can study for, Drew, he’s a person you need to get to know. Football is something he likes. If he wants to tell you about it, let him. Otherwise, it’s okay if it’s part of his life you’re not super into. I promise, there will be things in your life that he finds boring. That’s okay. You don’t want to be those people who are super obsessed with everything the other one does anyway, that’s boring and annoying.”

“What about Mom and Dad?” Drew asks. 

“Do you think Mom really cares about Dad’s opinions on Deep Space Nine? No, she just lets him talk until he tires himself out. That’s how a marriage works.”

“And how would you know how a marriage works?” Aidan challenges.

“I got married for thirty-six hours two spring breaks ago.”

“WHAT?!” the twins scream in unison. 

“Okay, that was a lie, but the fact that you both believed it is something we’re gonna need to discuss.” 

“Anyway,” Aidan continues, “she is right. Let him show off for you, and be all ooh and ahh when you see him for dinner. If you feel the need to contribute to the conversation, just say something disparaging about the refs. That’s what I do when Anna and Dad get going on hockey.” 

Anna nods sagely. “It’s true. I can have the conversation about refs all by myself.” 

Drew sags further down the seat. “This is exhausting.” He pauses. “What are the odds of getting hit by a football from the stands?”

“Zero, Harvard’s quarterback sucks.” Anna gets up and perches on the arm of Drew’s chair. “You’re gonna be fine, Drew. Xander is lucky to have you, and you are lucky to have him. Let him preen for you, it’s good for the soul. Also, I bet the post-game sex is gonna be great.”

Drew’s jaw drops. “Anna!”

She shrugs. “Just make sure he showers first, because he’s gonna be covered in a lot of other men’s sweat and that’s just not a great look. Unless that’s what you’re into.”

Drew pulls the throw pillow out from behind him and shoves his face into, hoping beyond hope to smother himself to death once and for all. 

#drabble #v1 #anna #aidan #drew #xander #this is now a drew/xander stan account #do not ask me to write or think about literally anything else ever again

[danielcooperrp]

We Two Boys Together Clinging

Halfway through 19th Century American Poetry and Drew has a sensation with which he is all too familiar: eyes boring into the back of head. It doesn't matter how many times he's been gawked at in a restaurant or in the allergy aisle of CVS (hay fever is a bitch), the feeling of the little hairs on the back of his neck standing up never fails to make him want to slink into a hole and die. He tries to ignore it, tries to focus all of his attention on the professor, who is droning on about the difference between various editions of Leaves of Grass, but that only lasts so long. Eventually, he caves, and he turns to look. 

He's not shocked when the dark eyes watching him quickly dart away—people are often abashed when they get caught staring—but it is a surprise when, a few moments later, they return to meet his. The face they belong to is handsome, warm, dark skin, a strong jaw, a slightly crooked nose that suggests some kind of trouble, and—oh. Two rows of perfect white teeth that he sees now because the face is grinning at him, an inviting, dangerous grin, and now Drew's the one looking away, his own cheeks glowing red. His eyes burn holes in his notebook—he hasn't written a word in so long, he'll have to research this edition issue on his own later—and the other guy's eyes burn holes in his skull. 

Why is he looking at him like that? Drew hasn't said a thing all class, not that any of them would be able to get a word in edgewise. His eyes dart down to check his outfit; a little schnerdy, sure, but nothing that stands out in a Harvard classroom. He risks it again; a quick look back, and that smile is still waiting for him, this time a little softer, like he's happy he keeps getting caught. 

By the time class ends, Drew is a sweaty mess. He has no idea what the professor said for the last half of that lecture, but he's not going to stick around to ask. He tosses his notebook and his copy of Whitman into his satchel and slides into the mass exodus from the room. He lets himself be carried toward the building exit by the river of hungry undergrads, hoping that he avoids whatever situation was brewing behind him in class, but the river comes to a screeching halt when everyone notices that it's pouring buckets outside. Those smart enough to plan ahead whip out their umbrellas and leave, and some who don't have any other choice lower their heads and shoulders as though preparing to take a charging bull head on and foray bravely into the downpour. 

Drew doesn't have another class for forty-five minutes, and even though he was planning on getting lunch in the interim, he really doesn't want to get this sweater wet, so he decides to duck into an alcove and wait it out. He pulls out his phone, Googles the information he thinks he missed in class, and is halfway through an Encyclopedia Britannica article when someone clears their throat. He looks up and blinks owlishly. It's the teeth. 

"Hi," the teeth say. "I'm Xander." 

Drew stares. He doesn't know what to do with this information. During the rare instances someone deigns to talk to him, an introduction like "I'm Xander" is almost always followed by a request like "Can I get an picture?" or "Do you know where the bathroom is?", depending on if he's been recognized or not. But this...this is just warm brown eyes and a big shiny smile that he doesn't know what to with. 

"Drew Cooper," he eventually blurts out, remembering that he is in fact a human person with a name. "Um. Hi." 

Xander leans casually against the wall adjacent to Drew, the fabric of his shirt pulling tight over the bulk of his arms as he crosses them over his very muscular chest. "You know, I really liked what you had to say last week about the em dashes in Emily Dickinson's poems. How they're meant to give you space to breath but really end up making you feel breathless. Professor didn't know what do with that, but...I liked it."

What is happening what is happening what is hap— Drew swallows thickly. "Oh. Thanks. I, uh, visited the house in Amherst a lot growing up. School field trips, family weekends...I'm...familiar with her work."

Xander nods toward the corner of Leaves of Grass sticking out of Drew's satchel. "What about Whitman? He a favorite too?"

Drew shrugs. "Sure. Mostly 'Song of Myself' and 'Drum-Taps,' but generally...yeah, his language is...unparalleled." Drew pauses, unsure, and then continues. "Reading Whitman always reminds me that I need to look around more. That everything is beautiful if I let it be."

The smile grows bigger. "I really like the way you talk about poetry, Drew Cooper." Xander reaches into the JanSport he's got slung over one shoulder and pulls out an umbrella. "Want to talk about it over lunch?"

—————

It’s not until their third post-poetry class lunch that Drew finds out something interesting about his new friend. “Wait...you’re on the football team?”

Xander laughs, a loud, warm sound that makes Drew feel like he’s part of the joke instead of the butt of it. “Yeah, yeah, I’m on the football team.” Drew makes a face. “What?”

“Well...don’t take this the wrong way, but...” Drew swirls his spoon in his cup of clam chowder. “...is Harvard’s team any good?”

This earns a longer, louder laugh from Xander, who takes a bite of his grilled chicken when he’s done. “In the grand scheme of things? No. We go up against Auburn or Clemson and we’re getting our asses kicked, no questions asked. But against the teams we actually play? We’re not half-bad.” 

“So what position do you play?”

“Tight end.”

“Oh, I know that one. That’s...an important one.”

Xander suppresses the laugh this time. “It’s okay, Cooper. You don’t have to pretend to like football.”

Drew scrunches his nose. “I’m sorry. I come from a sports family. My dad and my older sister, in particular, they’ll talk for hours about football or baseball or hockey...it all goes over my head.”

With a shrug, Xander says, “Well, you’ve got enough good stuff going on in that head. No need to waste brain space on stuff that doesn’t matter.”

Drew feels himself starting to flush, so he quickly tries to shift the focus. “Well what about you? If football doesn’t matter, why risk CTE for it?”

“Scholarships, Cooper! You think Harvard pays for itself? I got in on test scores, but test scores don’t get you out of loans. Football does.”

And doesn’t that make Drew feel so silly. He knows how unbelievably lucky he is, that he had every semester of higher education he could ever want at whatever university would take him paid for before he was even born. If he had the mind to, he could keep taking classes at Harvard or Yale or Oxford until he died and he’d never have to think about the cost. Xander actually has to work for his education, and Drew feels like a little kid in comparison. 

—————

They’ve been in a little back corner of Lamont Library for a few hours now, bent over their respective texts as they work on assignments for different classes. Drew’s nose-deep in an anthology of Helen Hunt Jackson, while Xander’s scribbling away at equations for one of his insanely complicated math classes. They work in comfortable silence, and every once in a while Drew wonder how strange it is, the easy way they spend their days together. 

At one point, Xander throws down his pencil in disgust. “That’s it. Cooper, I’m dropping out.”

Drew makes a face. “You’re not dropping out, Xander.” 

“I am. No economics degree is worth this.” He gestures vaguely to his chicken-scratch math homework. 

“I mean, you’re not going to hear an argument from me, the guy studying History and Literature.” Drew peeks at the equations. “Would it help if you explained it to me?”

Xander furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...my sisters always head more of a head for the STEM subjects, while I’ve always been better at...” He waves a hand over his poetry book. “...softer stuff. But when I was a kid, my dad, who’s, like, an insane science nerd to the max, would tell me to pretend that I was the science teacher and I had to teach him the homework. It really helped. Explaining out loud, going over each problem piece by piece, helped me understand it better.” He flushes. “It’s just a thought, though. You don’t have to...”

“On one condition.” Xander smirks. “You have to tell me all of your thoughts on Thoreau afterward.”

Drew can’t fight his grin. “Deal.”

—————

Drew’s schedule is light on Tuesdays, so he’s back in the apartment he shares with Aidan, about halfway between Harvard and MIT’s campuses. She’s here, too, ditching a class she claims is “beneath the mathematical sensibilities of a first-grader.” She and some friend Drew is sure he should know the name of are on their little balcony, sipping wine coolers and people-watching while Drew reads for his early Wednesday class. Mostly, really, he’s listening to them gossip.

“See her?” 

“Blond ponytail?”

“No, by the crosswalk, with the dog. Don’t tell her you have a fake ID, she’ll narc on you in a heartbeat.”

“Get out!”

“Dead serious. Freshman down the hall got busted because of her.”

“What a bitch. Over there, those two: dating or siblings?”

“They’re practically identical, so I’m hoping siblings....Oh god, please let me be wrong...”

“Who’s that?”

“Where?” 

“Coming down the sidewalk here.”

“He’s hot, whoever he is.”

“I’ll say.”

“Wait...why does he look familiar....”

“Wasn’t he at that party two weekends ago? The one on Banks Street?”

“Oh my god, that’s it, he’s on the Harvard football team!”

Drew’s head snaps up. 

“Tell you what, he could score a touchdown any day. Look at those arms...Drew?” 

Drew scrambles off of the couch and flings himself onto the balcony. Aidan gives him a wild look. “What the hell?”

Peering over the edge, Drew spies Xander just as he gets to the front door of their building. He doesn’t need to use the buzzer, because someone’s coming out. “Oh.”

“Drew?”

Ignoring his sister, Drew rushes back to the couch, where he grabs all of his books and notebooks and tosses them into his backpack. Then he races into his bedroom to grab shoes. “I, uh, have to go! Study thing!”

Aidan looks down to the street and back to her panicked twin. “Drew...are you friends with a football player?”

“No!” Drew squeaks. “Yes! I mean, yes, we are friends. We have a class together. I have to go!”

Aidan squints in suspicion as Drew charges out the door. When it slams shut behind him, her friend says, “Does he know his sweater is on backward?”

Aidan shrugs. “Not my business.”

—————

“Why do you hang out with me?”

It’s a hazy October afternoon, and Drew and Xander are hanging out in Flagstaff Park, studying. People call out to Xander as they walk by, and Xander gives them a friendly wave or a “Hey man!” but makes no move to get up and socialize. Drew knows he’s quiet, not the best conversationalist in the world, so he wonders. 

“What do you mean?” Xander looks at him like he always does, like Drew is about to say something absolutely revelatory. 

“I mean...shouldn’t you be hanging out with the rest of the football team? Is that what you’re supposed to do?”

Xander seems amused. “Is that what you want me to do?”

“No,” Drew answers too quickly. “I just...I don’t know. I’ve never had someone spend so much time with me who wasn’t a blood relative, that’s all. And it seems like you have a lot of friends so...I don’t know...forget it...” Embarrassed, he turns back to his history textbook. 

A wide hand, fingers splayed, plops down over the pages, and Drew looks up to see Xander rolling his eyes. “I hang out with you so much, Cooper, because I like spending time with you, and also, I’m hoping that if I earn enough goodwill you’ll let me take you out to dinner at some point.” 

Drew freezes. “I—what?”

“I mean, if you’re not into me, that’s fine. I’m a big boy, I can handle it. But the thing is, I think you are into me, which is great, because I’m into you too, but I don’t mind biding my time until you’re ready.”

Every single neuron in Drew’s brain is misfiring. “You’re—into me?”

“Man got himself into Harvard just to outshine the professors and he still can’t read what’s right in front of him.” Xander sighs. “Yes, Cooper, I am into you, and would like to start seeing you socially in a romantic capacity.”

“But...you’re on the football team!” 

“I—what?” Drew just gapes at him. “Cooper...” Xander starts to laugh, slow at first, and then harder.

“Wait, why are you laughing at me?”

“It’s just...really refreshing to talk to someone as woefully out of touch as you are.”

“Hey!”

“Cooper, I dated a guy on the swim team for like two months last year. My being gay is...not news. To anyone.”

“Apparently not my sister,” Drew grumbles. 

“What?”

“Nothing.” Drew shakes his head. Nothing is making sense. “Do you know...who I am?”

“...We’ve met, yeah.”

“No, I mean...my family.”

“Oh.” Xander shrugs. “Yeah. Did some light Googling. I mean, c’mon, a white boy as quiet and smart as you? I had to be sure you weren’t secretly a neo-Nazi or some shit.”

“I’m Jewish,” Drew mumbles, “but that’s not the point. You know...who I’m related to.”

“Yeah. Am I supposed to care?” Xander reaches out and takes Drew’s hand, interlaces their fingers together. Drew’s heart is pounding so hard in his ears he can barely hear Xander speak. “Cooper, I am an economics major. I don’t want to date you because your grandpa was a billionaire. I want to date you in spite of the fact that your grandpa was a billionaire.”

Drew chokes out a laugh. “Fair enough.” 

“I mean, you’re cute and all, but don’t think I won’t eat you for sustenance when the class war starts.”

His laugh is louder this time. “Stop.” 

“So what do you say?” A squeeze of the fingers, and a squeeze to his heart. “Drew Cooper, will you go on a date with me?”

Drew chews on his lip, and then he nods. “Yeah. Yeah I will.” 

Then Xander grins his perfect white grin, and Drew knows he’s a goner.

#drabble #v1 #drew #xander #thenamesallison #i................spent hours on this #i did nothing today #where did this even come from wtf

[danielcooperrp]

//might fuck around and come back...haha jk.........................unless?

#mun

[danielcooperrp]

Waiting Game

some more early!bradleycooper because i wanna write but i don’t know how to write anything else lol

The bathroom floor is making his ass hurt. He’s been sitting here for a couple of minutes now, staring at the back of the door, where his towel and hers vie for space on the hook. She left as soon as she was done, not even bothering with the doors—”I just need to clear my head,” she had said, before diving out his bedroom window. 

So he sits alone, staring at the door instead of the thin piece of plastic on the counter. He didn’t set an alarm, and he lost count in his head after about forty seconds, so he’s planning on waiting to check until a limb goes to sleep. Or until she comes back. Whichever comes first. 

It’s not that they weren’t careful. Of course they were careful. Daniel has years of experience in being too careful and not nearly careful enough, and he knows that he and Ally have been careful. But he is a man of science, and he knows that the arc of the universe bends toward entropy, and if there’s anything that would introduce chaos into their lives, it’s this. The wait. The question. The doubt. 

Weirdly, it’s his dad he can’t stop thinking about. What he’ll say when he finds out—okay, there’s no when here. Right now, it’s Schrödinger’s pregnancy test; their lives are only turned upside-down if they are observed to be that way. 

But what would he say, given one of two options? It was his mom who always wanted him to have the normal life, friends and lovers and a family of his own. His dad was happy to define success in far more analytical terms, and Daniel was happy to fall somewhere in the middle. But now this. Him, not even a year into this relationship, and her, a mutant superhero. He’s sure his dad would have a lot to say, or perhaps nothing at all, and Daniel isn’t sure what’s worse. 

And then there’s him. It’s not that he doesn’t want kids—in fact quite the opposite; he always imagined a family, somewhere off in the dreamy someday. And it’s definitely not that he doesn’t want them with her; it worried him, at first, how fast their lives slotted together, how easily, but now it’s become as natural to him as sunrise. It’s the now of it all, the timing. She’s still in school, and he’s still trying to piece together the shatters of his life. A baby, right now, a living, breathing, screaming thing, an exercise in entropy in their already chaotic lives—how would they even manage it?

And yet. And yet. As soon as she came to him, some unreadable expression on her face—”I’m late”—he couldn’t breathe for the want of it. It’s so stupid, he’s so stupid, but every atom in his body is vibrating on one frequency: family, family, family. It’s the ringing in his ears, the goosebumps on his arms—he wants this, and that scares him far more than any answer a $20 pregnancy test can give him. 

His left leg is asleep, and he can’t hear the telltale sound of a flier at the window. He shoves himself off of the floor; he has to find out if this cat is alive or not. 

One would think that these modern tests’ clear answers, a word spelled out in thick, black letters, would be more of a relief than the muddled guesswork of hazy pink lines. But in reality, seeing the truth laid out so plainly—Not Pregnant—feels like a kick in the gut. But he is a man of science, and if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s accepting the reality of things, no matter how they make him feel. 

He doesn’t know what she is hoping for, if she’s hoping for anything at all. He doesn’t know how to present the news, whenever she returns. So he takes the plastic stick off of the counter, cradled between his fingers, and carries it into his bedroom, where he sits on the edge of his bed, stares at the open window, and waits. 

#thenamesallison #v1 #this doesn't have be canon or anything but yeah this literally came to me in the middle of the night #drabble

[danielcooperrp]

Scheduling Conflicts

a surprise early!bradleycooper drabble to remind you that i am not in fact dead

“Hey!” Daniel catches Ally by the waist and spins her around. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” It feels a bit strange, kissing her in the middle of one of MIT’s myriad courtyards in the middle of the day, but he hasn’t seen her in days, and there’s only so much restraint he can ask of himself.

And of her, too, apparently—she kisses him back with an enthusiasm that nearly knocks him off feet. When she’s done, she’s smiling a smile that stutters his heart. “Hey. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Just for a little bit,” he replies. “I’ve got a meeting with a friend in the chemistry department. I told her I’d take a look at her centrifuge.”

Ally rolls her eyes. “Ugh, if I a dollar for every time I told a guy to come take a look at my ‘centrifuge’...”

Daniel laughs. “I shouldn’t be more than an hour or so. Coffee after?”

Wrinkling her nose, Ally says, “Can’t. Physics class. Attendance mandatory. But I could do lunch tomorrow! Around one?”

“We’re running tests all day tomorrow. I’ll probably be eating out of flasks. Maybe a late dinner?”

Ally groans. “I have training right after my afternoon class, and then a late-night study group for a calculus test.”

“Okay...but you’ll come over Friday night, right? Stay the night with me...?” He runs his fingers up her spine, enjoys the shiver that earns him.

“I—don’t play dirty. Tony asked if I could come to New York. Some celebration thing, a dinner, maybe for Pepper? Honestly, my brain is so fried this semester I can barely remember my own name.”

Daniel cocks his head. “Are we...bad at this?”

Ally snorts and tips her forehead to his chest. “I think we may be really bad at this.”

He presses a kiss to the crown of her head. She smells so good, like home. He wraps his arms around her and rubs a hand up and down her back. “Alright, Sunday. I don’t care what kind of classwork you have or how much the lab is hounding me to go in. You’re coming to my place and we’re ordering food and we’re going to fall asleep in front of the TV.”

Ally tilts her head up. “Oh god, that is my love language.” She presses her lips to his. “But you are not getting out of a lunch on campus with me. I need to show you off before all my friends become convinced that my hot older boyfriend is made-up.”

“Sure,” Daniel retorts, “you get to brag about your hot older boyfriend, but I say I’m dating a sexy young co-ed and all of a sudden Olivia Benson has a few questions for me.”

“You think I’m sexy?” Ally has a dangerously playful glint in her eye. 

“Well, I would if I ever got to see you.” Daniel places a hand on either side of her face. “We’re gonna figure this out, Ally Bradley, because there is no way in hell I’m letting someone like you slip through my fingers.” He kisses her once, then again, soft, slow, like the world has infinite seconds to spare them. 

“Go on,” Ally says reluctantly, pulling him closer by a belt loop before nudging him away. “Before I do something that would definitely make it to a tabloid cover.”

One last kiss, and a parting “I love you!” and Daniel leaves her once more, lost in a sea of students.

#drabble #thenamesallison #v1 #surprise bitch #bet you thought you'd seen the last of me

[danielcooperrp]

//oh shit it’s daniel and anna’s birthdays y’all

#daniel 31 #anna 1 #mun #surprise bitch #bet you thought you'd see the last of me

[danielcooperrp]

i have no recollection of posting this but i’m also not against the idea

among us but as your rp character

[danielcooperrp]

among us but as your rp character

[danielcooperrp]

thenamesallison​:

It was almost scary how on the same page Ally and Daniel seem to be all the time, but as he lifts up The Greatest Showman DVD case it’s like he reads her mind. “The Greatest Showman! Did I ever mention to you that I want to try that dance they do on the rooftop? Because I do.” Ally lifts Anna into her arms and starts to waltz around their bedroom, humming the tune of A Million Dreams. “You wanna watch The Greatest Showman, baby?” Anna coos and Ally nods. “Anna agrees. Let’s do it.” 

Daniel snorts. “You can try the rooftop dance. Not all of us can fly back up when we fall off.” He puts the DVD in and then hops back into bed, snuggling up close to his wife and daughter. As the movie begins, he says to Ally, “Just remember, yes you married a Hydra man, but you could have married a circus owner, so really, you lucked out.”

#thenamesallison #v1 #anna

[danielcooperrp]

#ally

[danielcooperrp]

Are you a “can’t write dialogue” writer or a “can’t describe anything” writer

#mun #well now that i know i have aphantasia i know why i am extremely the latter

[danielcooperrp]

thenamesallison​:

When Daniel gets there he is greeted with the sight of his wife and daughter sitting on a red-and-white checkered picnic blanket, the quintessential basket holding down a corner and plates of food already set up in the center. Ally lifts Anna’s chubby, little arm in a wave and the baby coos happily when she sees her dad approaching. 

The real surprise, however, is the man sitting next to her. Julian Edelman–unfortunately with his overgrown playoff/depression beard fully intact–is there with his own daughter in his lap; she was a couple years older than Anna, but that didn’t stop the two from seemingly getting along. Ally’s grinning from ear to ear, already buzzing as she waits for Daniel to spot one of his favorite football players of all time. “Happy Father’s Day!”

Daniel curves around the tree to see their picnic blanket, laden with all their favorite breakfast foods, and starts to speak. “Aw babe, I—”

Then he freezes. He’d know that beard anywhere. “Holy shit,” he breathes, completely forgetting the two young kids in front of him. “Holy shit.” 

“Hey man!” Julian Edelman—Julian Edelman!—lets his daughter crawl off of his lap so he can stand. He holds out his hand for Daniel to shake, which he does, aggressively and enthusiastically. “Nice to meet you!”

Daniel lets out a strangled, high-pitched laugh that he fails to cover with a cough. “Yeah man, I mean—wow. Incredible to meet you. I mean—fuck.” Daniel finally remembers to let go of his hands, and the two men sits across from each other at opposite ends of the blanket, with Ally and the girls in the middle. To give his shaking hands something to do, Daniel scoops Anna up from where she’s trying to shove grapes into her mouth and kisses her cheek. He then leans over and gives Ally a hard, excited kiss. “Wow.” 

#thenamesallison #v1 #father's day 2k20 #i mean what the fuck #truly

[danielcooperrp]

huntingbounties​:

    “Stupid, so fucking stupid,” he cursed, grabbing at the tear at the top of his sleeve on his suit jacket. “Can’t keep fighting in my work clothes, dammit.” Releasing the fabric, Roman sighed and pinched his nose as he walked along the sidewalk. His apartment was a number of blocks away so he had time to calm down before he’d have to sew his clothes back up.

     His steps came to a quiet stop as he heard the subtle shuffling of two bodies. There was a struggle in an alleyway, and that was a sound he was too used to looking out for. Roman eased an eye around the corner only to see the mugging taking place. He grit his teeth as he tried to think whether it was worth stopping or not as if he would even choose the latter, but then his eyes darted to the figure whose face was showing.

      His hands turned to bricks. Roman set his sights on the hooded figure as his face turned to a heavy snarl.

      In a moment’s notice, Roman managed to grab the back of the man’s collar and sling him away from Daniel to make sure he wasn’t in any danger before slinging a hard left across the mugger’s face. 

     It just barely missed as he saw the switchblade jolt towards his abdomen. Roman was quick to grab the wrist as he snarled. His grip tightened and tightened as the dull tone of cracking came from the arm along with the wails of the attacker. 

     Roman made sure to land his heavy left strike across the man’s jaw once, twice, three times until his target was slouching on the ground without a word.

      “Stupid fucker,” he spat, releasing the crunched wrist. His temper slowly simmered as he remembered just why he’d jumped in in the first place. He tried to calm his voice in an attempt to sound more natural as he checked on Daniel. 

     “You okay, mate? He hurt you?” 

Things happen very quickly. There’s a scuffle—is it him? is he scuffling?—and then the blade threatening his liver is gone, and he blinks rapidly, trying to make sense of the senseless in the dark. It isn’t until a surprisingly familiar voice cuts through the alley that he lets out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Holy shit.” That comes accompanied with a noise, one he couldn’t begin to describe. “Jesus Christ.” 

The moment of relief, of understanding that the danger has passed, is fleeting, as the throbbing in his head intensifies. “Ow.” He presses a palm to the back of his skull, which only makes the issue worse. He starts to slide down the brick wall. “Oh no.” He catches himself with something akin to a laugh. “Hey, man. Real good to see you. Your timing is...impeccable.” He eyes the lumpy form of his mugger on the ground. “Is he...okay?”

#huntingbounties #v? #the jj bittenbinder school of survival

[danielcooperrp]

friendly reminder that I’m comfortable with MINOR godmodding if:

it’s genuinely in the interests of advancing plot (e.g. ‘Pass the screwdriver?’ and you can assume my muse passes the screwdriver over, or even just that your muse ended up with the screwdriver one way or another, without having to stop the reply altogether for my interjection)

it’s NOT my muse’s dialogue, inner or outer

it’s REASONABLE for my muse (e.g. if they’ve already made it quite clear the screwdriver is a sentimentally precious family heirloom or something, then the screwdriver might not reasonably change hands)

the reply isn’t solely about my muse’s actions, thoughts or feelings, but rather is about your muse, with reference to mine

you are willing to accept criticism & critique and change the reply if I can’t reasonably see my muse doing that

roleplaying, for me, is about exploring characters and worlds through story. Interaction with both the muse and the world, then, is vital, and I do not mind sacrificing a small thing from one to significantly advance the other. It’s always a good idea to talk to me if you’re uncertain and it will be easier once we know each other better, but I just wanted to put this out there so you lot know what I’m comfortable with. There’s a lot of ‘no godmodding whatsoever!!’ going around in this community and obviously, with big things, it’s a no-go – but I’m still more interested in the story.

#mun

[danielcooperrp]

What Would Your OC Do?

(send a colour to ask the question)

scarlet - What would your OC do if they found a mysterious sack of money just left unattended? 

amber - What would your OC do if they found out their significant other(s) are cheating on them?

honey - What would your OC do if they lost a treasured possesion? Imagine that there is no way this item could be replaced or bought again, that it is 100% gone forever and they can’t get it back.

seafoam - What would your OC do if they ever got stranded somewhere or lost? They have only a few basic supplies with them and have no idea where they are and are completely alone with only themself to rely on.

cerulean - What would your OC do if time suddenly froze only for them? 

lilac - What would your OC do if they found a baby abandoned on their doorstep in the middle of the night?

peach - What would your OC do if someone confessed their love to them? *bonus* asker can specify who if they’d like to confess to the OC!

pearl - What would your OC do if a natural disaster hit their home? What would they do in the aftermath?

chocolate - What would your OC do if they were forced to sacrafice one of their most beloved people to save another of their beloved people? Only one can survive.

pitch - What woukd your OC do if they were being interrogated for valube information? *bonus* What would they do if this interrogation turned down a darker road e.g torture?

#ask meme

[danielcooperrp]

Tagged by: @huntingbounties

Tagging: @thenamesallison @battcries-included and whoever else wants to do it!

Spell out your URL with song titles and tag 10 (or more) people.

Do Ya Think I’m Sexy? - Rod Stewart

Avalanche - Michelle Chamuel & Arjun Singh

No Scrubs - TLC

It Gets Funkier III - Vulfpeck

Ease My Mind - Hayley Kiyoko

L’estate sta finendo - Righiera

Country Backroads - Theo Katzman

Out Tonight - Rent Original Motion Picture Cast

One Fine Day - The Chiffons

Part of Your World - Jodi Benson

Everytime - Ariana Grande

Rooting for You (Demo) - London Grammar

Right To Be Wrong - Joss Stone

Permafrost - Laurena Segura

#mun #glad i gave daniel my eclectic taste in music bc realizing how disjoined my itunes is was hilarious #*disjointed