#and yes...Howard focus

[david-talks-sw]

The OTHER type of Star Wars fan

We've already covered (through this longer post and this addendum) that research shows George wasn't that involved or interested in the derivative material of the Star Wars franchise, also known as the Expanded Universe (EU). Aside from approving a few points, he let Howard Roffman and Lucasfilm Licensing handle it.

He is the first to say that he ain't as knowledgeable about Star Wars lore as we fans are.

Thing is... he's also not as passionate as we are.

Recently, I was watching some Q&A videos of George R.R. Martin, the author of Game of Thrones... and it occurred to me:

Martin is what most Star Wars fans wish Lucas was.

Think about it.

He's a talented writer who likes to focus on morally "gray" characters and complex political plotlines,

who created a series of novels for a mature audience in which his narrative merely asks questions and lets the reader draw their own conclusions,

knows and engages in the lore behind his creation and will often respond to those lore-heavy questions, and has gone on record stating that canon is the glue that holds a story together and keeps it coherent.

Contrast that with George "continuity is for wimps" Lucas, who:

Wrote a movie franchise which is also, partially, political... but he makes it for kids, and he's explicit about how this is thematically a clear-cut story about how the conflict of "good vs evil" is really about "compassion vs greed",

with flat dialogue, boring cinematography,

and whose approach to lore and canon can be summed up in his answer to how Anakin got his scar:

"I don't know. Ask Howard [Roffman]. That’s one of those things that happens in the novels between the movies. I just put it there. He has to explain how it got there. I think Anakin got it slipping in the bathtub, but of course, he's not going to tell anybody that." - Pablo Hidalgo’s set diary, August 2003

And as a Star Wars fan, I will admit that some of his casual retcons felt disrespectful, growing up.

"Boba Fett is NOT Mandalorian?!"

I had the same reaction when I saw an interview of Kathleen Kennedy stating she was a fan of Star Wars... from a filmmaking perspective. That seemed like such a finagling cop-out for me, at the time.

"Just say you're not a real fan, God!"

And it's easy to divide it in two camps, like that. You have 1) the fans, who will delve into deep lore, and you have 2) the average moviegoer.

But looking back on it... holy shit, that is actually a completely valid way of being a Star Wars fan.

Yes, Star Wars is a transmedia franchise, it's books, it's video-games, it's deep lore, it's lightsabers and Jedi and Sith and bounty hunters and Ewoks and Jabba and High Republics and Tython and Revan etc.

But before it was that, Star Wars was a filmmaking revolution. A juggernaut of innovation for the silver screen that inspired most of today's filmmakers.

So, sure, George Lucas isn't an avid lore-loving Star Wars fan like you and me. But he is a movie fan.

"I'm not that passionate about this story. I like it, it's fun and I enjoy doing it. But it's definitely not my life. I'm a bigger movie fan than I am Star Wars fan. I like making movies. At the end of nine years of making Star Wars, I was not ready to continue it. I was completely burned out on it. I was more passionate about raising my kids than making movies and especially making Star Wars. So I made other kinds of movies and TV shows and advanced the technology I needed. It's not a matter of passion. My passion is for filmmaking. I'll go and do filmmaking that is easier to do, where you can realise your ideas better. And nine years is a big part of your life, and to commit to another nine years, I didn't wanna do that right away." - EMPIRE, 1999

And you can tell this, when you watch the Star Wars films.

There are honestly so many homages and interesting filmmaking techniques, peppered throughout the six films, which only a nerd for cinema history like George would know how to implement.

C3-PO being based on the droid from Metropolis (1927) is a perfect example of this.

And that's interesting.

Because there's essentially this entire other dimension to the films, where it's not just the story unfolding, but to filmmakers it's also a series of techniques that make them go "I wonder how they did that!" or homages that make them go "OH! I know where that's from!" like we do when an comics characters appears in live-action.

Here's other examples:

CINEMA HOMAGES

All of Star Wars is absolutely littered with homages to cinema history.

I mean, you may already know this, but Flash Gordon is what George originally wanted to shoot, but the copyright holders said they only wanted Fellini to direct it (ironically, George wasn't artsy-fart enough for them). So he decided to write Star Wars instead.

As such, the inspiration from Flash Gordon is also present visually and spiritually throughout the two trilogies.

"It was like a Republic serial, a 1930s-style matinee adventure. The idea was that you came in, saw Episode IV, had missed the first three episodes, and wouldn't get to see the rest of it." - Starlog Magazine #300, 2002

The dialogue that a lot of people refer to as "campy" and "flat" is actually a mix of George being an experimental filmmaker who doesn't give much of a fuck about dialogue (and is by his own admission, not the best at it)...

"I'd be the first person to say I can't write dialogue. My dialogue is very utilitarian and is designed to move things forward. I'm not Shakespeare. It's not designed to be poetic. It's not designed to have a clever turn of phrase. [...] I just wanted to get from point A to point B. This film doesn't lend itself to that sort of thing because it's not about snappy one-liners.  I think that Lethal Weapon-style dialogue is overused, it's a necessary aspect of high action films where you have to have the smart retort. You have to say "I'll be back baby" and stuff. It's not my style. It takes away from the integrity of the movie. [...] I'm aware that dialogue isn't my strength. I use it as a device. I don't particularly like dialogue which is part of the problem." - EMPIRE, 1999

... which is convenient, because it helped him simulate the dialogue of 1930s matinee serials, such as Flash Gordon.

"Let’s face it, their dialogue in that scene is pretty corny. It is presented very honestly, it isn’t tongue in cheek at all, and it’s played to the hilt. But it is consistent, not only with the rest of the movie, but with the overall Star Wars style. Most people don’t understand the style of Star Wars. They don’t get that there is an underlying motif that is very much like a 1930s Western or Saturday matinee serial. It’s in the more romantic period of making movies and adventure films. And this film is even more of a melodrama than the others." - Mythmaking: Behind the Scenes of Attack of the Clones, 2002

But beyond that, literally it's everywhere.

The scene where Palpatine ascends to being Emperor as Anakin slaughters his political rivals parallels the final scene in The Godfather, where Michael becomes the Don while his goons do the same thing.

This video compiles all the tributes beautifully. Check it out.

Even The Clone Wars has whole episodes that are direct homages to cult classics. The Zillo Beast episode is a clear reference to Godzilla, the episode The Wrong Jedi is inspired by The Wrong Man, etc.

"CINEMA VÉRITÉ" CINEMATOGRAPHY

I've already written a whole post (one of my favourites) showing how his fascination with cinéma vérité documentaries is reflected in the cinematography of all six Star Wars films, and it's part of what makes the entire franchise feel so immersive.

You can check it out here:

KUROSAWA

We've gone over how he's a big fan of Akira Kurosawa, and how big an influence Hidden Fortress was on both the Star Wars trilogies...

... but so is the mise-en-scène and the way George approaches production design. The reason Star Wars feels so "lived in" is also a lesson George learned from Kurosawa, which is that by making everything just a bit off-kilter, a bit dirtied-up and imperfect...

... and yet keeping it all consistent, in a way, you manage to make the film feel grounded and immersive, no matter how alien it is.

"[It] may sound odd in a movie like this, but credibility and realism, even in the most unrealistic situation… to sorta create that sense of realism is very important to making the story work and making you feel like you’re actually in the environment that transports you and gives you the suspension of disbelief that you need in order to enjoy a movie. [...] Kurosawa used to call it “immaculate realism” which is to make it slightly off-kilter, slightly eccentric, like things are in real life. Even if it’s a very predictable situation, give it that little funny edge that takes it away from that and makes it realistic. And I had to struggle very hard, in the Star Wars films, to make them appear to be realistic, even though they’re totally fantasy." - The Phantom Menace, Commentary Track #2, 1999

POST-PRODUCTION & VFX

Another one of the more impressive aspects of the first Star Wars was the dogfights and the trench raid of the Death Star. The camera pans with the spaceship, the dynamism of the cuts. The space battles is what made George creat ILM in the first place.

He was determined to do the opposite of what 2001: A Space Odyssey had done with that opening scene where the space ship moves into frame slooooowly...

... so he gave the team a collection of WWII dogfight footage to give them ideas.

(note: this was the same approach he would take years later with Dave Filoni, when teaching the latter how to edit and craft dogfights in The Clone Wars)

The attempt to film the trench run eventually led to the creation of the first motion control camera dolly.

Best analogy I can think of, when describing George's approach to Star Wars, is the following:

An avant-garde esoteric contemporary artist - y'know, the type who puts a blue dot on a white canvas and calls it art - creates a comic.

Why? Because he wants to make this one art installment for a gallery exhibition. After that, he intends to move on to other things.

But the comic is really good! And like, its audience quickly expands beyond just gallery visitors, no, everyone likes it.

Suddenly, the comic develops a cult following, and the entirety of comic book geek culture has zeroed-in on the artist and they're all asking him to make more art! And he makes more! And more!

Then he stops for two decades, moves on to other art projects, raises his kids. Years later, he discovers new ways of drawing, and he's like "I'm making a Prequel to the comic, y'all wanna see it?"

Everyone cries out gleefully: "Oh God, yes! Finally! Show us!"

But this motherfucker makes a manga.

Why? Because he feels like it.

And of course he does, he's just creating art, right? He discovered the graphic tablet, so he's having fun with it, because he's always innovating and pushing the envelope with his art.

And the movies are fine, by manga standards. But by comic book standards, they obviously suck! The comic book audience is mad. They wanted another comic book, not a manga. Why is it in black and white? Why is read right-to-left? This comic sucks!

(And arguably, they have a point... as a savvy businessman, he's made a whole lot of money off this comic, he built a media empire out of it, and instead of giving them what they want, he made something else)

But again... this guy isn't a comic book illustrator, and has been very explicit about saying this.

He's an artist who - for a very specific project - drew a comic.

Many things can be true at once:

the fact that these creative decisions didn't always hit their mark for the average moviegoer, or fans of "Star Wars, the space fantasy movies and expanded universe" (usually the lore-loving geeks like myself)...

... and the fact that they were meticulously and carefully crafted in a way that fans of "Star Wars, the revolutionary film" (aka fans of cinema and filmmaking) can appreciate.

There's a spectrum of the fandom, and there is a spectrum in the way we can appreciate Star Wars. Which kinda reminds me of that scene in Chef (2014) where Carl goes on a rant explaining the intricacies of making his chocolate lava cake to a food critic.

It's not just undercooked chocolate.

It's molten.

Conversely, it's not just flat, campy dialogue. It's an homage to the 1930s matinee serials à la Flash Gordon.

It's not just boring cinematography. It's a reproduction of cinéma vérité documentary-style camera work which effectively grounds the film.

Having considered all this, when I hear that Tony Gilroy or Kathleen Kennedy were more in the latter camp, I go "fair enough".

First of all, because like it or not, so was George. He clearly didn't give a single crap about the comics and books, besides signing off on minor plot points. He's not a "sci-fi movie director", he's an experimental filmmaker who makes movies set in space.

But secondly, because - aside from children - it's clear the audience he was targeting was these cinema-savvy folks who'd get his references and would be inspired by the filmmaking techniques.

Not the fans or the critics.

[peppermintquartz]

The second time Tommy meets Philip and Margaret is not under the best of circumstances.

Maddie is wrecked with worry, Jee is confused about why her daddy can't sleep at home and why her Uncle Buck isn't here, and Tommy himself is approximately three broken Kit-Kat bars from completely snapping.

So when the Buckley parents show up at the hospital, Tommy is not in the best of moods.

"Why are you here?" Margaret says when she sees him, instead of asking "How's my son?"

"Because I'm waiting for the outcome of the surgery," Tommy says, pretty curtly, but after fourteen hours following a full shift he is about to keel over. He's seated right now, having no further energy to pace, with his elbows on his knees, his head aching from the fluorescent lights and endless activity all around him, and his heart steeled against the worst possible outcome. "I mean, it's certainly not for the ambience."

"Maddie called and told us that Howard and Evan were in the building when it collapsed," Philip says before Margaret can react to the sarcasm. "We wanted to be here for Maddie."

"For Maddie, of course it's for her," Tommy says, and he is so beyond sick with worry that he can't force aside the irritation nor hide it with civility. "She's gone home with Jee-yun. I promised to keep her updated. If you're looking for her, I suggest doing so tomorrow morning when she's had hopefully at least an hour of sleep."

Margaret glances at the light above the operating theater doors and wrings her hands. "How long has it been? I can't bear this."

Tommy doesn't even look at his watch anymore. "Fourteen hours, thereabouts. Howie's just come out two hours ago."

A whole building. A three-storey building. Howie was on the top floor, so he was freed from the rubble first. Evan was on the ground floor. The 217 and the 124 had been on the scene, Tommy flying five casualties from the wreck directly to hospital, one of whom was his friend. All the while he had to internally battle the screaming need to claw apart the debris, with his bare hands if necessary, to get his Evan out of there.

Philip hugs Margaret. "He'll survive. He's always done so, since he was a kid. You know how it is with him. Scrapes and cuts and falls. He'll come out of this without trouble."

"I can't bear waiting here," Margaret whispers again. "You know I don't like..." She shuts her eyes and shakes her head.

"I know, I know it feels like it's Daniel inside, but it isn't."

And Tommy loses it.

Logically, he knows that Philip is merely trying to reassure his wife. Logically, he knows that they are trying; the mere fact that they are in hospital to check on Evan and Howie is a statement that they are trying.

Every other part of Tommy, however, explodes with incandescent rage.

"Daniel? Daniel?! Evan's in there, fighting for his life, and you can't even focus on that?" he spits out. "The only reason why I am even talking to you is because you made Evan. You brought him to this world. And you don't deserve him. Every day I see how much he loves, how openly and how bravely he loves, and to know that you both treated him the way you did... And now you come here, to the hospital, and you talk about being here for Maddie and, and thinking about Daniel, instead of your son who could've died today!"

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Tommy realizes that he's on his feet, his fists clenched, towering over two older persons who are shrinking away from his six foot two frame. Suddenly drained, Tommy licks his dry lips.

"Go see Howie," he says in a low voice. "You probably can't go in yet, but find out what you can to tell Maddie."

Philip clears his throat. "You'll let us know when Evan is out?"

"I'll call Maddie." Tommy sits again and stares at the wall opposite. Green. Dull, lifeless, bland hospital green. He hears the Buckleys walk away. "Philip, wait."

"Yes?"

"Sorry about the outburst. Also, you're supposed to call him Buck. Remember that."

Philip sighs again. "Of course. We'll see you later, when Ev- Buck is out of surgery."

[oo-delallymrcrow]

Makeup Trailer

A/N: I have a cooper howard smut ideaa, could you write something where the reader is his makeup artist on a new movie hes working. Theres an Automatic connection they really click and have some sweet sexual tension and after working together for a while during the movie the tension keeps growing growing and they get steamy in the makeup trailer. Oh oh also could i request this to be in 2nd person if possible ty ty love ur writing ride a cowboy was sooooo good!!!

I hope this was what you wanted! Sorry it took me awhile, it's hard to focus sometimes and between work and life I tried so hard to make this good 😅

18+ no minors

As you headed toward the makeup trailer, a modest space but packed with all the essentials to turn actors into their on-screen personal. As she stepped inside, she was greeted by the familiar scent of makeup and hairspray. The trailer was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos outside.

You arrived on the bustling movie set early, the morning sun barely cresting over the horizon. The set was already alive with activity, crew members scurrying around, cameras and lights being adjusted. This was a major production. Despite the pressure, you felt a surge of excitement. This was what you loved—transforming someone else, bringing a character to life.

You turned on the radio and let the soft melodies fill the air as you got to work, organizing and preparing to get ready. The door to the trailer opened and in walked Cooper Howard. He was an attractive and talented man; its what made you take the job as you always enjoyed watching his movies.

You smiled from behind the makeup chair, “good morning, Mr. Howard.”

"Morning, Y/N," he replied, flashing you a charming smile.

"Ready to become someone else?" You asked with amusement.

"Always," Cooper said, settling into the chair.

As you began your work, there was an immediate connection between you two, an almost electric chemistry. Talking about everything—movies, books, life experiences. The conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by moments of shared laughter.

The next few days turned into weeks and your bond only grew stronger. Yet with your bond there was a palpable tension. You were finding yourself thinking about Cooper more and more, distracted by his presence even when he wasn't around. You would sometimes pause, your fingers lingering just a bit longer on his skin, your gaze softening when your eyes met.

One particularly long day of shooting had left everyone exhausted. Cooper returned to the makeup trailer for some touch-ups, finding you waiting for him. The usual banter was absent, replaced by charged silence. You worked methodically, your hands gentle but deliberate.

During those moments it was so hard to not take action. Leaning in close to make sure no extra powder was on his face. You could smell the cinnamon gum he chewed on in-between takes. One time you were embarrassed when helping another makeup artist perfect her work. You leaned over to point out a few touch ups when you realized you had practically put your boobs in Cooper's face. You quickly stood up and walked around to help, realizing it was quite hot in the trailer. When you returned back to Cooper, you apologized for earlier.

"Not a problem, darlin," he replied in a low voice. You could see a glint of interest in his eyes but brushed it off as you thought it was unprofessional.

A day later when you were returning back to the trailer after lunch, an assistant was walking past with a cable. You didn't see it was unraveled before tripping on it. You weren't expecting an arm to snap out and pull you against a warm body. You looked up to see Cooper glaring at the assistant before running to you. His face softening as he brought a hand up to brush away a few stray hairs.

"You alright darlin'?"

You gulped before smiling, "yes Cooper. You saves me."

His grin got wide as he tipped his hat to you. "It's no problem, darlin'. I'd happily save you anytime."

You giggled before looking over and seeing people watching you two. You cleared your throat before stepping back. You brushed your hands down your dress before saying a quick 'thank you', turning to walk away.

"Hey," he called out before grabbing your wrist. "How does a cowboy go about getting a proper thank you?"

You turned and felt your face go red before quickly standing on tip toes to press a kiss to his cheek. As you pulled back you saw his mouth part and his eyes darken a bit before giving you another smile.

"Is that all?"

"I'll have to properly thank you another time Cooper," you purred before walking away. You quickly walked to your makeup trailer with your cheeks burning.

When you walked into the trailer you couldn't help the squeal that escaped as you fanned yourself. You couldn't believe you just did that. And promising to thank him another time, you knew this was going to be an interesting week.

You chewed at the bottom of your lip as you removed some makeup that smudged. You weren't use to the silence from Cooper as the radio kept playing a melody.

“Cooper, you’ve been quiet today,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looked at you, seeing the concern etched in your features.

“Just thinking,” he replied, his voice huskier than usual.

“About what?” you asked, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

“About you,” he admitted, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Y/N's hand froze mid-motion, your eyes widening slightly.

“Cooper…”

He stood up abruptly, turning to face you. The space felt too small, the air thick with unspoken words.

“Y/N, I can’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed, stepping closer.

“I feel this connection, this pull. And it’s driving me crazy.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you watched as his face slightly fell, fearing that he misread everything. But you stepped towards him, closing the distance. Bringing your hand up to touch his cheek, turning him to face you again.

“I feel it too,” you whispered.

That was all the encouragement he needed. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek.

“Y/N,” he breathed, and then his lips were on yours.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if you were both testing the waters. But then it deepened, filled with all the unspoken emotions and tension that had been building between them. Your hands slid to his chest, clutching his shirt as if afraid he might disappear.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathless. His eyes were bright, his cheeks flushed.

“Wow,” you said, a shy smile playing on your lips.

“Yeah,” Cooper agreed, his own smile mirroring yours, “wow.”

The world outside the trailer continued in its frenetic pace, but for that moment, it was just the two of you. The energy drew you closer to him with a fire lighting inside of you. Cooper must have seen it or felt the same way as he pulled you into a passionate kiss. You gladly opened your mouth to him as he deepened the kiss.

You were leaning against him and the lack of air must have made him dizzy because he suddenly stepped back into the counter that you placed your makeup on. It made everything jolt and roll off or roll over onto the floor; but it didn't both either of you as he tangled his hand into your hair. You moaned lowly as he tugged at your strands before you pulled away panting. His eyes were ablazed as you slowly knelt in front of him. You gave him a wide grin as you rub his budlge in his jeans. He groaned and dropped his head back as you fiddled with his belt buckle.

“Can I have a taste Coop?”

“Yes,” he rasped as you unbuckled his belt. You decided to tease the man as you slowly unbuttoned and slid the zipper down. You pulled his pants and boxers down as his cock sprang up. You ran a finger from the slit in the head down his cock, following along a vein, until the base. You gazed up at him through your lashes and saw he was already staring down at you. His chest was heaving in pants as he gritted his teeth.

You held eye contact as you gave a little lick to his head. Jumping a little as his fist connected with the top of the counter.

“Darlin’,” he growled between his teeth. “You keep that up and I'm gonna have to spank you for teasin’.”

You giggled as you wrapped a hand around his base and licked up the vein before taking him into your mouth. He groaned before placing one hand on the back of your head and stroked your hair in encouragement. You hummed as you took down as far as you could before pulling back to stroke his cock.

As you moved your hand up and down, you can tell it will be a bit of a stretch if you decide to fuck him. With that thought you could feel how wet you were getting with each stroke and each noise that leaves Cooper's mouth. You lick at his slit, tasting his cum before putting him back on your mouth.

“Fuck darlin’,” he stopped petting your hair to storke down your cheek, rubbing his thumb along your cheekbone. You heard a whine come from him as he barley thrusts into your mouth.

“Look up at me darling girl. I want to watch as you swallow my cum.”

Your eyes fluttered open to stare into his eyes. You could see his shoulders relaxed as you did and his mouth drops open with moan. You place your hands down on your lap and open your mouth wider as he takes over. His hands tangle in your hair and starts panting as he thrusts into your mouth.

You try so hard to keep your eyes open as one of your hands pulls up your skirt and shove your panties to the side to rub at your clit. His eyes moved down to see what she was doing and throws his head back before starting to ramble.

“Fuck Y/N, you're enjoying this? God you're so perfect for me. Sucking my cock like you were made for it. You're such a good girl. I'm gonna cum soon. You want it in your mouth?”

At his last question, his head snaps back down to catch your eyes as you whine and try to give a nod. He groans as thrusts into your mouth again to cum down your throat. You gag a bit at the last thrust before swallowing his cum down. As he pulls away you stick your tongue to show you swallowed it down as he grins.

“Good girl. Now get up here.”

He helps you stand on shaky legs, not use to being in that position for so long. He pulled you into a kiss as one hand squeezed your breast. You moaned as he pushed you down to sit on the makeup chair. You took in a shaky breath as he got on his knees. He grinned as you pushed your hips up to pull your panties off. He pulled them off and placed your legs on his shoulders before diving down to lick up your slit. You cried out with your head throwing back as he sucked your clit into his mouth.

Your body slid down as you reached up to grab the headrest and tangle your fingers into his hair. You give a tug and he moans against you. The vibrations made you moan out his name. He suddenly pulled away as you whined pitifully at the loss, before he pulled you into a kiss.

“I'm sorry darlin’ but I have to have you,” he kissed down your neck. He pulled you up before settling into the chair. He had you facing the mirror as he pulled you back into him. You leaned back into him as he grabbed your hips. You laid your head on his shoulder as he teased his cock against your opening. He used your slick to lube up his cock before pushing into you. You hid your face into his neck as you gasped and clawed at the chair arms. He felt too big and didnt think he was going to fit all the way. He moaned as you squeezed around him and shifted around to get comfortable.

“Here baby sit up.” His chest rumbled against your back as he spoke. He helped you sit up properly, your skirt bunched up around your waist. You looked up in front of you in the mirror and couldn't believe how wrecked you looked. Your face was flushed with wide eyes and lipstick smeared. Cooper sat up and you watched him as he took in the both of you.

“A perfect picture, don't you think?”

He smiled as you nodded along before wrapping an arm around your waist. You placed your hands on the chair arms again as lifted yourself up before dropping down. His eyes snapped shut and mouth open in a low moan as you repeated the motion. His other hand pushed your shirt up and bra down to expose your breasts. He pinched your nipple before letting go to rub his thumb against it.

You cried out and shifted your hips until it hit the spot that made you almost fall forward. He held onto you as he moved his legs wider and pushed up into you. You couldn't help the sob that fell out as you rolled your hips and just let him take over. The arm around your waist moved so his hand could come down and rub at your clit.

“Baby I want you to open your eyes.”

You didn't realize you had shut them until you saw how he positioned you to see his cock disappearing inside of you. You could see how easy he was moving from how wet you were. You could see how it was running down his thighs and squeezed around him again. He pinched at your clit and it made you start to shake.

“Cooper,” you whined out. Your legs were getting tense and toes curling. You could feel yourself start to titter into an orgasm as he pinched and pulled your nipple.

“Come on darlin'. You can come for me. I want to go home and be able to smell you on me.”

The way he was moving and the dirty talk helped push you over the edge. You sobbed as your whole body shook and scratched at the armchair. He pulled you back against him as he kissed your neck. He kept fucking up into you making your orgasm feel like it was lasting forever. As the orgasm ebbed away you registered that you were repeating Cooper's name, almost like a prayer on your lips. The man whispered your name into your neck before his hips stuttered. You let out a low hum before turning your head to bring him into a kiss.

“I want you to cum inside of me Cooper, please?” You purred against him and brought your hand up to tug at his hair.

He looked at you like you just hung the stars in the sky before he came with a low groan of your name. You pulled him into a kiss as his hips jerked and slammed into you for a final time. It was a while before either one of you moved, taking your time to relax and take in one another. You slowly stood to not make either of you uncomfortable as you felt everything start to leak out. You grabbed a few rags to clean up the mess between your legs, straightening out your skirt and fixing your bra and shirt back. He just pulled up his boxers and pants as he then pulled you to him. You sat back into his lap as he relaxed back into the chair, holding you close.

You closed your eyes as the exhaustion of the day caught up to you. You felt his hand brush through your hair before clearing his throat.

“How about we go back to my trailer to sleep. I think we both need it.”

You slowly nodded as your brain caught up to his words. “Yes I think we do. Then you can take me out to dinner sometime.”

He heard him chuckle before helping stand again, “yeah. How’s tomorrow night sound?”

You smiled as you yawned and followed him out to walk to his trailer, “sounds perfect.”

Taglist: @danveration

[ghoulishneeds]

𖥔✦Double Feature ✦𖥔

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✧𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Cooper Howard x F!Reader

✧𝒞𝒲: dubcon, violence ig, uh blood, piv, skullfucking, restraints, knife (briefly), choking, hair pulling

✧𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: You’ve been picked up by Cooper and he intends to sell you for a bounty. (Plot if you squint)

✧𝒲𝒞: 2.6k+

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Ask: can you do something for cooper being rough

((Oh boy can I.))

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You squint against the sun, raising a hand to shield your eyes from it. Pain thrumming in your right shoulder. Your eyes adjust in time to catch the brown leather of his boot before it collides with your jaw.

——————————————————————

You’d been running your mouth all day.

Every time he’d fuckin moved, you’d had something to say about it. You weren’t sure if it was the constant, close proximity to each other, the unforgiving heat, or the knowledge he was about to sell you for a bounty, but everything was getting under your skin. You hated the desert. Hated him. You hated his cocky, fuck-em all attitude. Hated that the way he looked at you set your fucking blood on fire.

He’d barely spoken the entire journey, yet any time he did, you couldn’t swallow back some shitty little retort you’d had ready.

Up till this point, you’d maintained some level of feigned compliance. To a point, a part of you liked pissing him off. But, you knew who he was. The Ghoul. A fucking legend in the Wasteland. A killer.

But today you had felt braver. Or maybe the heat had just baked off the rest of your common sense.

He’d already told you to shut up once. And you had, for a small while. But his pace was slowing down, and the wheezing cough, signifying it was time for his next Rad-away dose, echoed back off the crumbling building along the roadway.

You had watched him fumble through his bag and had found it almost amusing. The most dangerous man in the Wasteland was one missed dose away from falling apart. It was ironically humanizing.

You watched him desperately consume the Rad-away and he stood straight again. You made it all of five steps before you found yourself laughing. When it echoed back to you it sounded hollow and mean in your own ears.

He’d stopped so suddenly you collided with him. Bracing your hands against his back for stability.

Your heart rate jumped. You could quite literally feel the mistake settling over you. When you looked up at him, he was glaring at you over his shoulder, eyes whiskey brown in the sun.

You hesitated before the step back, pulling your hands away from him. “I-“

Cooper turned to face you. The tension in the air was making it hard for you to breathe. You took another step back.

“Darlin’ I’ve told you once to shut your fuckin mouth haven’t I?” His voice was low and honeyed. Your pulse jumped again. He stepped in closer, eyes burning into yours. Your mouth was impossibly dry, chest rising and falling rapidly.

He looked at you expectantly. Was he waiting for a response? “…yes” You dropped your eyes.

“And here you are, still runnin that fuckin mouth.” He clicked his tongue and shook his head in exaggerated disappointment.

He’d hit you fast and hard, knocking you off your feet, your shoulder collided with the ground painfully.

——————————————————————

Your head is reeling after the kick, you struggle to focus your eyes again. He’s crouching over you, hands resting on his knees. He watches you with this intense, heated look while you push yourself up onto your elbows. As you try to catch your breath, you can feel the heat radiating off of him, making the air around you almost unbearable. You look up at him, your heart racing in your chest, and suddenly realizing the gravity of the situation. You were lucky he hadn't killed you yet.

"I don't like repeatin myself sweetheart." He says it almost sweetly. "If you can't keep that pretty mouth shut, how bout I keep it busy."

You swallow hard, feeling the words settle around you. His gaze is intense, like a branding iron searing into you. You know you have to say something, but your mind goes blank. “I-“

You know what he's implying, you're not stupid. The tension between the two of you had been building for too long, and this had been the boiling point.

Your eyes follow him as he stands up. He grabs you by the elbow and half drags you up into a kneeling position. When you try to fully stand, he presses his hand into your sore shoulder and pushes you back down. You look up at him, shame rolling over you. Your cunt is throbbing in time with your aching head now. He smirks down at you, unhitching the lasso from his hip. You watch as he loops it around his hand, the leather of his glove creaking slightly as he tightens it.

He steps in behind you, roughly pulling your arms behind your back. He pulls your wrists tight together, putting strain on your shoulders, and loops the rope around them. The rough rope burns against your tender skin, but you can't help the wave of arousal that rolls through you.

You feel him step back, releasing the pressure on your wrists. You try to pull your arms free, but they're tied tightly together. You can feel his eyes on you, burning into your skin. You turn your head slightly, looking over your shoulder at him.

He staring down at you, a hungry predatory look in his eyes. You swallow hard. A different kind of heat settling in your core. He steps back around, in front of you. "You ain't got anything to say now honey?" He asks, voice dripping with sarcasm. You meet his eyes indignantly.

Your heart is racing as you spit at him. Panic and arousal mixing into something primal in your blood.

He laughs, not bothering to wipe the spit away. Grabbing your face tight enough to make your jaw ache, he pulls you towards his crotch, his other hand fisting in the hair above your neck. "Can't tell if you're brave or stupid." He holds your gaze for a moment. “But I'd lay money on stupid."

He lets go of your face and undoes his belt, briefly fumbling one-handedly with the buckle. He audibly groans when his cock springs free. He's already hard, shiny pre-cum smearing the tip. Saliva floods your mouth and you look up at him again.

His expression is almost unreadable, aside from the fire in his eyes. He moves his free hand to his hip and unsheathes a jagged hunting knife. Your pulse quickens to a panicked rate, breath coming in sharp pants. “See this here sugar, is a serrated blade.” His voice is low and rough. “It doesn’t just slice,” he presses the blade against your cheek “it tears.”

Hot panic almost makes you drool as you watch him resheath it. “I’m tellin you once, don’t you go thinkin about biting.”

Your eyes meet his again. “Yes sir.” You don’t recognize your own voice, strained and rough. He smirks, clearly pleased with your submission. “Atta girl.”

Cooper’s hand tightens in your hair again, maneuvering you closer to his cock.

“Don't make me tell you what to do darlin’." His voice is a low growl above you. You swallow once and open your mouth obediently.

His fingers sift through your hair, guiding your mouth closer to his cock. As you lower your head, his tip grazes against your lips. You steal a glance at him, he's watching you with a heated gaze. You lean forward, feeling the hot, heavy head of his cock pressing against your tongue. Your eyes widen as you taste the pre-cum on his tip. You slowly start to take him into your mouth, your tongue sliding over the shaft. Coop watches you intently, his eyes darkening as you take him deeper into your mouth. You can feel his fingers tighten in your hair, urging you on. You wrap your lips around him, sucking lightly as you begin to bob your head.

He's been as patient as he's capable of being. He places his free hand alongside the other, on the back of your head. Stepping in closer, he pushes himself further down your throat. You gag, pulling against your bindings. His head drops back and he groans. You try to relax, willing yourself to take more of him. He grips your head and withdraws his cock slowly, before sliding it back down your throat. He quickly sets a rhythm, fucking himself down your throat.

As he continues to thrust his hips, his cock slides in and out of your mouth. You try to keep up with the pace, gagging occasionally but unable to pull away. You can feel the saliva dripping from your chin, mixing with his pre-cum. You can tell he’s close. His thrusts are sharper, shallower. You try to swallow around him and the constriction makes him groan. You can’t ignore the throbbing between your legs.

Your hips keen forward, against nothing while he buries himself in your throat. You feel him tense up as he nears his climax. His grip in your hair tightens, and he growls low in his throat. He pulls you forward, pushing himself as far as he can down your throat. He's so far down your throat, you don't taste it when he cums.

He hesitates for a moment before he withdraws his cock and you cough as he takes a step back, throat feeling raw and used.

He lets out a low whistle. "That mouth is good for somethin after all huh." He's smiling. You're panting and staring up at him. The taste of him lingers in your mouth, making you feel uncomfortably aroused. You glance away, trying to find some semblance of control. Cooper chuckles, a dark sound that makes your pussy ache. Your hips push forward again, almost subconsciously. The motion doesn't go unnoticed.

He smirks and tuts "My my, I must say I almost think you're due some kinda reward for that darlin." He leans forward smiling again, and presses the toe of his boot against your crotch.

You whine, a high pitched, pathetic sound. He chuckles again. "Oh I like that sound a whole lot better."

You feel a wave of shame wash over you, but you can't help the response to his touch. He leans down, his lips close to your ear.

"You know what? I think I'll make it a double feature for you today."

He licks a long stripe from your collarbone to just below your jaw. He bites you, hard. You aren't expecting it and the pain is shocking. But fuck it feels kind of good? You gasp, grinding yourself against his boot. He runs his tongue over the now broken skin and growls. It's a low animalistic noise that brings on a new wave of need.

He abruptly stands, grabbing ahold of your bound wrists and roughly turning you away from him. He briefly pulls you back to him, rutting his cock against you. His breath is hot against your ear. "Gunna be good for me?" His voice is rough against your ear and your back arches. He slides his hand around your throat, establishing a good grip. "Hm?" It was almost a purr. After several laborious breaths you whimper out a "Yes sir."

He smirks, pleased with your response. "Good girl." He shoves you down, pressing your face against the sand. He hooks an arm under your stomach, heaving you onto your knees. After a moment he, albeit somewhat awkwardly, gets your pants off.

You almost sigh as the cooler air hits your burning core. "Whew. Look. At. That." He punctuates each word with a smack to your wet pussy. You're not sure when he took his gloves off but the rough texture of his hand swatting your cunt makes you gasp and jerk away from him. He laughs and drags you back towards him by your wrists.

He slides a finger through your wet folds and exhales roughly. You’re embarrassingly wet. Slick gathering at your entrance and threatening to run down your thigh. “Downright sloppy.” You can hear the smirk in his voice and your face burns with embarrassment.

Teasing your clit briefly, before pushing two fingers into you. He exhales between his teeth, almost a hiss. The ghoul withdraws his fingers and quickly lines himself up at your entrance. He slides himself through your folds, rubbing the head of his cock over your clit before he thrusts himself into you.

He wastes no time in setting a brutal pace, allowing you no time to adjust to the size of him. A strained whine escapes you, your hands twitching in the grip he has on your wrists. His hand cracks down on your ass cheek, you bite back a whine.

You feel his hand squeeze your ass, and he leans down, pressing his weight over you. "That's it, darlin. Take it. Take what I got for you." His voice is like honey, coating your senses and making you feel weak in the knees. You hold back the moan threatening to peel its way out of you at his words.

He’s getting frustrated with your borderline silence. “Now sweetheart, you were so ready to run your mouth earlier.” He grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks you back against him.

“Let me hear somethin.” You gasp as he pulls you back, the sting in your scalp making your eyes water. You try to swallow past the lump in your throat, but the words won't come. He growls low in his throat, a mix of frustration and desire. He continues to thrust into you, his hips slamming against you in a brutal rhythm.

You grit your teeth, trying to ignore the stinging pain in your scalp and the burn of his thrusts. His other hand comes to rest on your cheek, pushing your head to the side so he can bite down on your neck.

The noise you make is something between a moan and a scream. His thrusts slow into a grinding roll that makes your eyes roll back. He moves to the other side of your neck and repeats the action and elicits a similar sound. "Mm that's my girl." Your back arches at his words.

He pulls back and picks his pace back up. His thrusts are becoming jerky and faster. Cooper leans over you, snaking an arm around you. His fingers find your clit and he slips his fingers over it in fast circles. You moan and try to push yourself back against him. You feel him slam into you, his hips driving against you in quick, hard thrusts. The feeling of his rough hands on your body mixed with the brutal pounding is overwhelming. You gasp for air, trying to ignore the sting of his bites as they mix with the ache in your body.

.

Your eyes roll back as the pleasure becomes almost overwhelming. You're close. His fingers pick up pace on your clit and he dotes a few particularly hard thrusts on you.

Heat floods your mind as your orgasm hits you, walls spasming around his cock. "Ha, fuck, that's it darlin'."

His pace stutters, his thrusts becoming sporadic and almost frantic.

"Fuck, gunna-" is the only warning you get before he cums, pulling you back against him hard.You feel the hot rush of him filling you up and groan.

His weight presses down on you, his breathing ragged as he tries to catch his breath. Struggling to catch your own, you note that you're still tied up. Cooper leans back, still almost panting, and pulls the knife out again. He cuts the rope loose and stands up.

As you lie there, taking in deep breaths, trying to recover from all of that, Cooper sheaths his knife and gives you a smug, satisified look.

You eventually get to your feet and redress yourself.

"Better get some rest darlin, we've got quite a bit of ground to cover tomorrow."

You look at him questioningly.

He smirks, a look of dark amusement settling in his eyes. "What? You didn't think you was off the hook for bein a good fuck?" He laughs, it sounds similar to your own, earlier laugh.

"Man's gotta make a livin sweetheart."

The sinking realization that you’re still being sold for a bounty hits you.

Maybe you’ll be able to get your way out of it.

[rebelliousstories]

My Baby Shot Me Down

Relationship: Cooper Howard x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Age Gap

Word Count: 1,163

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Part Two of: Ex Lover’s Lover

Summary: After a stint on set, Cooper has to call into question whether or not being a relationship is beneficial for her.

“What is he doing here?” Walking onto the set of the newest western film, that was not what she had expected to hear as Cooper was by her side. Looking over at the side of the set, she noticed that there were two women right next to one another.

“Why else? That’s his sugar baby. Don’t know if I even want to be in a film with a man selling the end of the world.” She tried to tune the two women out, and focus on their director, but it was difficult. Of course not everyone was going to happy with his previous gigs, but a check was a check at the end of the day. Cooper was trying to do better now that he was divorced and moving on with his life.

“Darlin’, you listening?” Howard shook the women slightly, which brought her back to the present.

“Yes, sorry. A bit distracted today. My apologies.” She said with a bashful look on her face as she was caught slipping away mentally.

“All good,” the director reassured, “well, if we have no questions, shall we get started?”

And with that, the film was underway. There was a lot of fun on that set for her; being able to act alongside her lover was always a joy. But there was one dark cloud that hung over them. The two women from earlier. They were playing the local ladies of the night in the film, which she found laughable given her current stance on them. Every so often, when they thought they could get away with it, their snide comments slipped through.

“You’re way too young for him.” One of them whispered, sliding a tray of fake drinks over to her to “serve.” She knew that the dialogue would not be heard in the final film, but that did not mean that she did not hear it in the moment.

“You’re just a trophy to him.” Another snide comment as one of the woman passed in front of her on the corner of the little town the had created.

“He deserves someone better.” Yet another chink in her armor.

“He’ll get bored with you soon.”

“Cut!” The director called. She barely had a chance to react when they walked away. Calling it a day for the set, she could feel the tears of frustration boil up in her, but she refused to let them fall. Shoving them down, she felt the eyes of those women on her as she bid the director and staff goodnight, and walked alone to her trailer.

A frustrated sigh left her body the second the door was shut. She leaned against the door and slid down. The feelings from the day welled up inside of her; all the stress, anxiety, sadness, just everything. As she stood from the floor, tears started falling from her eyes as she moved to the pull out couch on the opposite wall. She was thankful that she had the forethought to change from her costume before coming back to her trailer all together.

Suddenly, there came a knock at the door, which prompted the woman to stand back up. All she wanted right now was a good cry and maybe some chocolate covered treats, and to finish her evening with a nice cuddle with her lover; but all that would have to wait. She was pleasantly surprised that when she opened the door Cooper was on the other side. He smiled up at her from the bottom of her trailer steps, but it immediately dropped when he saw the look on her face.

“Oh darlin’. What’s wrong?” Cooper pushed his way inside and shut the door behind him. Scooping her up in his arms, he maneuvered them over to the couch where she had once sat.

“Nothing’s wrong. What makes you say that?” She asked in between sniffles. Her lover, on the other hand, was not looking like he was convinced.

“Now you might do well on the stage and screen, but you can’t act your way out of a wet paper bag when it comes to me. Tell me what’s wrong. It’ll make you feel better.” His hands rubbed soothing circles in her shoulders and back, while his voice remained soft.

“Just something someone said today. It’s nothing, Coop.” Trying to brush it off, she settled herself into his arms. This was just what she needed after today.

“I need to know what was said, honey. Otherwise, it’ll fester in that pretty little head of yours.” He replied, pressing a kiss to said head. With her head in his chest, she shook it, causing Cooper to sigh deeply.

“I’ll use tactics to get the information out of you.” His hand was poised and ready to go over her ribs.

“Don’t you dare.”

“Tell me.”

“No. it’s nothing.”

“Alright. You asked for it.” Before she could move out of the way, his hand had descended upon her stomach and began to tickle her. She giggled at first, and soon it turned into full bore laughter as she tried to squirm away from the offending hand. Howard let up for just a moment while staring down at his lover who was panting slightly.

“Tell me, or it’s round two.” He warned, keeping his hand ready to go.

“It’s just, some of the women on set were saying how I was too young for you. That you’d get bored of me sooner rather than later. I don’t know, it just bothered me to think about all day.” She finally admitted, fiddling with a spot on Cooper’s shirt. His hand dropped, and it, instead, brought her chin up to look at him.

“That’s why you forgot your lines today?” He asked ridiculously. She rolled her eyes at him, yet chose not to answer.

“Baby, you are young for me.” That just felt like a stab to the heart. This was it. This was when he finally got bored of her like everyone said.

“But I love that about you.” Looking up into his eyes, she was surprised to hear that come out from him.

“I don’t care if people see us and think to themselves that you’re in it for the money. I’m not going to get bored of you. You pulled me from my darkest point, sweetheart, and for that I thank you.” The longer he spoke, the more she saw love swell in his eyes.

“Let them talk. They’re just jealous that they ain’t us. We can’t control what other people say about us, but we can control how we react. Don’t worry about them anymore. They aren’t worth it.” Cooper concluded his little speech with a sweet little kiss to his girlfriend’s lips. When he pulled away, he chuckled as he was pulled back down.

“Thank you, Coop. I really needed that.” She said, stroking a hand over his face.

“Anytime, any place darlin’.” He replied, leaning back in for another kiss with his love.

[howtofightwrite]

Speaking of martial competence, do you have any examples of characters that are actually written with this in mind?

Loads. Some actually even make good on that.

So, there's different kinds of martial competence. There are characters who are proficient in combat directly, there are well written strategists, there are characters who excel at military leadership, and when they're written well, you can actuallylearn some things from them.

I'm going to give some examples, and at least one cautionary example.

For, just, raw combat prowess, I still go back to Robert E. Howard's Conan short stories. It's easy to meme on the character, especially 90 years after the fact, with the cultural persona that's grown around him, but Howard's original writing is excellent. The character would not have survived Howard's early (and, frankly, tragic) death if it was just the one note gag you might expect, if your only exposure to the character was through cultural osmosis and the films.

Howard's fight scenes were shockingly well written. To the point that it is still absolutely worth reading if you want to write a fantasy fighter.

For strategists, three characters come to mind, but only two are literary, and all are Science Fiction.

Grand Admiral Thrawn is probably one of the best villains Star Wars has ever produced, it's part of why he's one of the few characters that's migrated from the original EU to the Disney era. My personal take is, as a character, he's lost a lot over the years, but the original incarnation from the early 90s novels is a very solid model for a strategist. Particularly in how he takes time to understand his opponents while looking for potential weak points to exploit.

His practice of studying a culture's art to understand their psychology might sound a bit goofy, but the concept does have a real basis. (At least, until it metastasized into a superpower, in later adaptations of the character.) Being able to psychologically assess your foe is an incredibly valuable element of strategy, and one that you probably want to consider when you're writing a character who is supposed to be a “strategic genius.”

When writing fiction, you want to consider all of your characters as if they were people, rather than as hollow, plastic toys. And, yes, the obnoxious villain who knows exactly what your heroes will do because of authorial fiat is going to be a more compelling character than the ambulatory goldfish villain who exists as a prelude for your heroes showing off how badass you think they are.

Granted, even in Heir to the EmpireThrawn was already drawing strategic insights that strained credibility, but understanding your foe is an element of strategic thinking that is often forgotten in literature. So, even as a villain in a tie-in novel (we're not done with tie-in fiction yet), he is worth looking at. At least when written by Timothy Zhan, Thrawn was a well written character, and even if he bordered on a Mary Sue at times, he escaped a lot of that stigma by justifying his competence.

It's also probably worth mentioning in passing that he's one of the few Imperial leaders in Star Wars who isn't also criminally incompetent.

The non-literary example of a strategist would be John Sheridan from Babylon 5. Unlike Thrawn, Sheridan's main strategic focus is on situational exploitation. A little of that comes from his knowledge of enemy procedures and psychology, but at lot of it comes from a rather ruthless approach to technical limitations. An alien race is using technology that blocks human targeting systems? Set up a nuclear mine and then send out a fake distress single to lure them in. Need to deal with a significantly larger, more dangerous ship? Lure them into a gas giant and and let the planet's gravity well drag them past crush depth. Bruce Boxleitner's performance helped sell the character, but Sheridan is a really solid science fiction strategist, who really exemplifies how technical limitations can have enormous strategic considerations.

I'm not citing Sheridan as an excellent example of a leader per se,it's certainly there, but it is harder to unpack from Boxleitner's performance. It does have some good payoffs much later in the series when he starts making some orders that cause his subordinates to sit up and stop what they're doing. And that is a consistent theme even back to his introduction, but, it's a tangible consequence to an intangible cause.

The last example is a negative example, both for strategy and leadership. And, as much as it pains me to say this, at least Orson Scott Card understood that Ender was a bad leader. At least in the original novel. To be blunt, Ender is a mediocre strategist at best. His highlights in the book involve, “inventing armor,” and creative movement in micrograv. That's setting the bar exceptionally low, and while it is reasonably within the range of what you could expect from a pre-teen, that's not much of a justification.

Again, I'm not a fan of Card, and I'm reallynot recommending Ender's Gameto anyone. However, if I didn't mention it, you know there'd be a reblog going for twelve hundred words about how Andrew Wiggin is the best strategist in literature, which, yeah, no.

Do you want a goofy, tie-in fiction, literary suggestion for the best leader in sci-fi? Too bad, because I'm pretty sure Ciaphas Cain is not that person. The Ciaphas Cain novels by Sandy Mitchell are unusual as leadership recommendations, because of how much Cain internally processes the social manipulation involved in military leadership. He's not a great leader, but he is exceptionallygood at explaining to the reader how he's creating that illusion to motivate the soldiers around him. In fairness, some of that is an intrinsic character flaw, he is incredibly insecure, and desperately trying to hide that fact. And the difference between being a great leader, and effectively creating a comprehensive illusion of a great leader is: There is no difference. As a serious complement, it is one of the few times I've seen an author treat leadership as an actual skill, and not simply an extension of a character's charisma. Which is why I'm singling this one out. It might sound like a joke inclusion initially, and the books are quite funny in a Warhammer 40k kind of way, but there is quite a bit of  value to be had.

-Starke

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[drawnfamiliarfaces]

As someone who has always loved siblings dynamics in fiction, I find it funny that almost every single member of the HoM team has siblings. Kim has two little brothers, Danny has an older sister, Jake has a little sister, Jenny has eight robot sisters, June has an older and a younger brother, Rex has an older brother, and Zak has three cryptid siblings. Ben and Randy are the only ones who are technically only children but Ben still at least has a cousin who he has a sibling dynamic with. I don't think Randy had anyone like that. (Although it's one of the few shows here that I didn't watch so feel free to correct me if I'm wrong.) Any way, now Only Child Cunningham is being treated like the little brother by all of these experienced siblings and has no clue what to do and I find that funny.

(P.s. sorry about the long comment. This thought wouldn't leave me alone so I thought i should share it)

(P.p.s I love your HoM au and your art. Thank you for sharing it!)

Please, don't be sorry, this is like, one of my favorite asks about HoMies I ever got! And also thank you for your kind words! <3<3<3

I also adore sibling dynamics in fiction! It's one of the main reasons I don't want to put much focus on ships in this AU, like I mentioned before, there would be like one canon couple with one of HoMies, but otherwise everyone are sort of floating in nebulous single area, so I could focus better on their complicated friendships with a dash of found family/siblings dynamics!

(And your ask reminded me of a fanart I did a long time ago about Randy being the only child in Secret Trio. xD same brain anon!)

Also one can argue that Howard, Randy's best friend, could be considered sort of like a brother to him (they became friends at a very young age), but I personally view them more as Bros. (does it make sense, lol?)

But even if we count Howard, their dynamic would be more equal in older-younger sibling scale, while Randy indeed would be mostly treated as a younger sibling amongst HoMies and it would probably drive him insane!

Being the youngest and newest in their friend circle, he is like a new baby brother or a co-worker/young kohai (ye, cringe wording but terminology vibe aint wrong! xD) that others are prepared to protect and help, impart their wisdom on, but also tease! (and perhaps learn something from him in return! )

But Randy Only Child Cunningham, as an already seasoned, if a bit overconfident, hero would hate (just a little bit) being considered as less experienced (even if he technically is) than others, no matter how much he absolutely adores being in presence of all those cool people! At times it would feel condescending, but in reality others just want to support him the more they learn about how he came to be the Ninja.

After all they know what it felt like being that young, having that responsibility trust upon your shoulders and going through so much. Especially considering that among them, Randy perhaps had the least stable support during his hero-ing career. Sure, all of them had to go through some things alone, but there were family and friends that were there to help when it came to it. And, no offense to Howard, who does sometimes manages to get through for Randy, he is not the best at being the type of support Randy needs at times. And, Ninjanomicon? While incredibly useful for teaching moral lessons and art of being Ninja - is not exactly the most er, physically able in supporting Randy at time of crisis, being an inanimate object and all that, lol.

So yes, Randy-Only Child-Lone Ninja Hero-Cunningham sometimes doesn't know what to do with all those people who appeared in his life and treat him like a little bro! But sometimes, he enjoys it. ;)

(a little bit of random rambling beneath, feel free to ignore! haha)

Also random, and its not very obvious at all, but there is slightest differences amongst HoMies on how they view/regard him and behave with/around him, depending on their own experiences:

Kim and Jake, as older siblings through and through, tend to see him as a younger bro, like their own siblings who can be a handful and overzealous little hellions at times.

Danny, Rex, Jenny and Zak are a bit complicated. They all have siblings that are older than them, but they are also kind of younger in some sense (or in Danny's case an adopted younger sibling).

Danny and Rex would tend to be overprotective a little bit, as people who didnt have a younger sibling before (I mean, Danny does but she is so independant! Danny doesnt get to exercise his overprotectiveness on Danielle xD) so its a bit new to them. But they are also kind of dicks, and thats just the younger siblings in them talking, lol.

Jenny and Zak on the other hand, both have siblings that are very confusing from the age bracket view.

All ofJenny's siblings are older than her BUT their prototype AI and bodies make them behave younger than her, so she tends to view them as younger siblings. There is a constant argument amongst them about who is older-younger, but its all in good fun! (She also sometimes misses being the only child. xD)

Zak's siblings are all cryptids, and two of them are older than him in age (Fisk and Zon are definitily full grown and possibly more long-lived than humans, I still have questions about Komodo, but he is probably older than Zak in age just by a little bit), but their behaviour, as.... well, i don't want to say animals, because they are not mindless animals, but let's just say - their disregard to human behaviours and norms, as cryptids, make them behave in a way that could be considered irresponsible, thus making Zak often behave like a responsible older sibling, despite being younger than them.

So, Jenny and Zak tend to be as snooty and in 'charge' as an older sibling would, but also be mischevous little shits that is younger (sorta only) child behaviour.

Ben and Jun are sort of like the previous four, but they tend to view Randy on a more equal footing rather than just vacilate between older-younger types of behaviour.

Ben, is a single child, but he grew up pretty close to Gwen, since they were born on the same day. Sort of growing up twins but not kinda situation. They also have an older cousin/brother Ken, and they both adore him, but it is obvious that primarly those two grew up together and are equally annoyed with that, lol.

Jun is a middle child. (I kind of dont want to say anything else, because i feel like it explains everything. xD but-) She is independant, and is equally exasparated with her snooty older brother and her hellion of a younger brother. So, really, she just tends to be the most normal towards Randy in the end???

so, ye, of course in the end they treat him as just a new friend, this was just more of me trying to look into inner mind of sibling dynamics in a weird way haha

sorry about it, but if you got this far, hope you had an entertaining read! ;D

[crobones]

[kicks open the door I just closed] AND ANOTHER THING

when a ghoul is turning feral, they say their name. they repeat it, over and over. "Roger. My name is Roger." like a chant. to remind themselves who they are. to hold onto the last bit of humanity they have left, because maybe if they hold tight enough, they can beat it. or maybe they can just hold on until help comes.

Cooper wasn't just distracting Roger so he could get a clean shot. He was reminding Roger of something good. BlamCo Mac & Cheese. His mom's apple pie.

When someone can't be saved, you don't want them to just focus on the fact that it's over. It's done. Waiting in that anxious fear for their every breath, because they don't know if it will be their last. Or, in Roger's case - and the case for any Ghouls out there still surviving - their last moments of control.

The sad fact of the matter is that, feral ghouls are still alive. They're not zombies. They hunger, they drool, they eat, but they can hide, too. They can gather. Being feral isn't dying, it's worse. They've not even just gone to base instincts - they've lost any and all sense of self preservation. They can sprint and throw themselves at prey because the body has simply become a vehicle for that hunger.

They don't hide or gather to stay safe. They do it because it's easier to take down someone if they're surprised and outnumbered. So yes, a feral ghoul can think. But only insofar that they can find a way to feed that hunger.

But even animals have some sense of self-preservation. (Unless, of course, they're rabid.)

To be feral is to experience such complete ego death that a person has no sense of identity outside of hunger and fear. So they try to hold onto control by reminding themselves who they are. "I am Roger." And so, it's not too far of a stretch to say that a person's humanity lies within their memories.

Cooper asked Roger if he remembered what food tasted like, back when he could taste. Before the radiation and necrosis. As most people know, certain senses like taste and smell can trigger a stronger memory than any words or chants.

What Cooper did to Roger was a mercy. It was simple. It wasn't a countdown or closing his eyes, just so that the last thing Roger could feel is fear. He reminded Roger of something good, like the taste of apple pie. Of his mom. Of being a kid again. Ghouls are people, but for those last few seconds, Roger was the most human he'd probably been in twenty-eight years.

And so what's going to happen when the Ghoul runs out of vials? Not Cooper, but the Ghoul. The character. The facade Cooper Howard has been wearing like a second skin. It's wrinkled, irradiated, and necrotic, but it's tight. It's safe. It's kept him alive. To survive, he willfully distanced himself from his humanity and became a monster. Cooper Howard didn't die. He's been buried alive in a coffin for centuries, feeding off of scraps. But he put himself in there.

So when the Ghoul runs out of vials, he'll do what they all do when they're trying to hold on. They'll hold on to their humanity by tooth and nail. "I am Cooper."

It'll be the first time anyone who didn't know him before the bombs ever hears his name. The first time Lucy connects who the Ghoul is to who Cooper Howard was, back when he was human.

It clicks in her head, subtler than a light switch. She should be happy. She should be ecstatic! She's meeting her favourite hero from her childhood! But all she can feel is sadness. She saw what her mother became, and she quickly proved to the Ghoul that she can put him down when the time comes. If she can do that for her mother, she can do that for him.

But how will she give Cooper those last seconds of humanity? Does she think he deserves it? Fuck deserving it, she'll decide to do it just because it's the kindest thing to do. But she didn't know him before. Didn't know his favourite tastes and smells. But she can probably guess.

Maybe it's the scent of his wife's perfume. Maybe it's the taste of hot coco. Or maybe it's Janey. Just Janey. In any form, any memory. So Lucy does that for him. And after two centuries, Cooper Howard finally remembers how it felt to be human. If only for a few moments.

[record scratch]

I don't want to end it on that. It's too much, even for me. Cooper Howard remembers his humanity and holds on long enough. He's saved. (Hey, Maximus carries RadAway, maybe he can carry other drugs.)

Now Cooper has to sit and deal with the tidal wave that is his humanity fully resurfacing so strongly after several lifetimes. The Ghoul has done a lot of things Cooper would disapprove of. More bad things than any good things he ever did when he was human. But they were all choices he made. Cooper's always been there. Just below the surface. He buried himself in that coffin. And what's more monstrous - to kill and be cruel to survive, or to hide from the responsibility and act like it was someone else all those times? Who is the monster, the Ghoul or Cooper Howard?

Inner turmoil. GIVE ME INNER TURMOIL.

meanwhile, Lucy can lose sleep over the idea that you should never meet your heroes. That maybe she likes the monster, better - but she doesn't know which is which either. They find themselves. They find each other. They find themselves inside of each other. Cannibalism, vore, allegory, etc, etc. they find his dick inside her. Happy ending. fuck you. fuck me!

[fandomfics]

The Trouble with Love

Part 3

Pairings: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x John Hancock x fem Reader

Description: After a mishap in the wasteland you are left to wonder if the ghouls you care for and have traveled with for years feel anything for you. The answers you find are not what you expected and leave you with more questions than answers.

Part 1 Part 2

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️

18+ only, MDNI

Unprotected anal, creampie, light dubcon? But like not really, queer, thruple, masterbation, Dom/sub dynamics, name calling, pet names, punishment, oral (m), praise/degradation, teasing, edging, violence, drugs

Not a long wait for the good stuff

Your head snaps up and your eyes meet his, "what the hell?" You blurt out.

"Yeah, when we started comin round Goodneighbor. Late night at the bar. Got carried away betting on who the better shot is. One thing led to another and we had a grand ol time."

You can't tell if the smile he cracks at that moment is because he's joking or he's amused by the expression on your face.

"You're messing with me, right?"

"God's honest truth sweetheart."

"Well that's....uh... Kinda fuckin hot." You say unable to keep yourself from imagining every lurid detail, your face flushing at the thought. "I guess we should probably go work this whole dynamic out with him.....figure this out before we all get too deep."

"Heh, sure thing sugar." Cooper gets up with a groan and you follow. After you've redressed you head over to the statehouse to find Hancock in his office.

"Close the door on your way out Fahrenheit." Hancock turns to you both with a deep inhale.

"You two smell like you were up to something." He chuckles before making his way to to the couch. He sinks into it and gestures for you to sit too.

"We should talk about us...all of us" you say looking into his obsidian eyes.

"Look, whatever you decide I'll respect."

"I want to be with you both. I...I want the three of us to be together. I don't want to choose between you. I know neither of you are the sharing type, but I think this could work for us."

A pregnant pause comes over the room before Hancock turns his gaze to Cooper. "So does that mean you and I can also resume our elicit activities?"

"Oh God yes. " You blurt out shamelessly. Cooper nods to him with a wink and a small chuckle.

"Count me in Sunshine."

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Days later you lay on your back with your head in Cooper's lap and your legs draped over Hancock's while chems course through you. You've spent a lazy afternoon getting high in your room, needing the relief. Not even an hour after walking into Hancock's office someone burst in frantically looking for your trio, their loved one needing to be rescued from some nearby super mutants. Of course you couldn't say no, but you couldn't help but feel disappointed that you couldn't bask in the newness of this relationship.

Now that you're back you're determined to take a bit of time off, "One week. No jobs." You demanded. Neither ghoul protested, knowing it was going to futile to do so even if they had wanted to.

"So... Who wants to tell me the story of your first encounter." You suddenly say breaking the companionable silence that had settled in.

"Well, I had won a bet-" Hancock starts

"Like hell ya did, you cheated you dirty bastard!" Cooper raises his voice mockingly challenging Hancock

He shrugs nonchalantly "Landed me that pretty little ass of yours didn't it."

"I s'pose it did." Cooper chuckles "as much as I'd love ta tell ya, I think ya'd like it more if ya saw it. Be back in two ticks." Your eyes light up at the delicious thought, Cooper leaves for just a few minutes before returning with a holotape.

"Maybe sometimes I have the good doctor record my time in the loungers..." He gets the tape in the TV and it hums to life with black and white images of them. Cooper takes his seat as your pillow and you focus your full attention on the ghouls on the screen.

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Somewhere around 2am in a dimly lit alley in Goodneighbor Cooper silently stalks Hancock. He pushes him against a wall, hand covering his mouth.

"Ya no good sonofabitch," Cooper hisses "Ya cheated me, ya owe me 100 caps!" He removes his hand from Hancock's mouth to allow him to speak.

"No idea what you're talking about." He replies coyly

"I know the bet was rigged, now give me my caps before I split ya open."

A mischievous smile plays across Hancock's face, "Is that a promise? I do have a thing for handsome angry cowboys."

"What the fuck are ya talking about?

One of Hancock's hands finds it's way to Cooper's bulge and he's momentarily startled before replying.

"Ya think this is a game? Give. Me. My. Caps."

"My bad," Hancock raises his hands in surrender "come up to my office, I'll get em for you!"

Cooper releases Hancock and follows him closely inside the statehouse. Once in the office the door closes and Hancock bends down to open a drawer at his desk to retrieve the caps.

"Stay right there." Cooper gowls and positions himself behind him to ensure that he's not reaching for a weapon. "Put the caps on the desk slowly. "

Hancock obeys and starts to straighten until he feels a hand on his back, pushing him down face first into the desk and Cooper's groin against his ass.

"What do ya s'pose yer punishment should be."

Hancock smirks "you did promise to split me open..."

"Well now, yer gonna stand right there, not movin a muscle unless I say ya can."

"Yes sir." Hancock is obedient

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Your face is flush and you can feel yourself starting to get wet. You shove your hand into your pants and start to swirl your fingers around your clit. Both ghouls notice immediately and let their hands wander your body.

"Ya like that doll?" Cooper says letting an ungloved hand grab your breast over your t-shirt while Hancock runs his fingers lightly over your thighs.

You hum in response.

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Cooper lifts Hancocks frock coat until the bottom is resting on his back and roughly unbuttons his pants allowing them to pool around his ankles.

"Stay." Cooper wanders the room checking drawers, nooks, crannies, and cabinets until he finds what he's looking for. A bottle of cooking oil. "Yer lucky I'm a gentleman. This kindness is more than ya deserve after what you pulled"

"Thank you sir."

He places himself behind Hancock again as he removes his gloves. After diping a finger into the oil he spreads his ass and begins to massage the other ghouls tight hole. Hancock moans loudly as Cooper let's a finger slide in and begins pumping it inside him. He slowly adds fingers, priming it for his own needs before bringing them back out.

"Get down on yer knees." Hancock does as he's told, now looking up at Cooper as he frees his erection from the constraints of his pants. Hancock immediately moves to take it greedily into his mouth, eager to please.

"Just couldn't wait ta get a taste could ya, ya lil whore" Hancock hums in agreement, taking all of Cooper's cock into his mouth.

Cooper places both hands on the back of Hancocks head and bucks into him slowly building speed with each thrust, watching his eyes water as the tip hits the back of his throat. Eventually he moves to stroke his own but is stopped, "tsk tsk, what did I say?" Cooper says disapprovingly. Immediately he corrects himself and moves his hands behind his back to avoid the temptation.

"That's it, good boy." He says with a moan, he stops with his cock fully embedded, "Are ya ready for yer punishment?" Hancock nods as much as he can with his mouth full of Cooper. With his member withdrawn he pulls Hancock up by his coat and bends him over the desk, pushing the frock coat out of his way once more.

He massages Hancock's asshole with the tip of his dick, slowly working it in, a long drawn out moan from each resounds.

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The ghouls have undressed you as you still lay across them. Hancock lazily teases your clit with his fingers while Cooper watches on, pinching your nipples. You're eyes are still fixed on the screen.

▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️

Cooper grabs Hancocks hips and ruts into him hard and quick. The sounds of moans and skin slapping skin fills the room. Hancock claws at the desk in pleasure, every thrust is hitting home by the look on his face. He's flush with anticipation and need, clearly desperate to chase the high of climax.

"Sir," Hancock pants "can I cum, I'm so close..."

Cooper reaches around and holds the base of Hancocks cock and balls to prevent him from finishing, and whispers "No, ya can't."

He continues to fuck him hard until hes good and ready to spill inside of him. Cooper shudders as his rhythm is thrown off and he gives one last deep thrust, holding himself there for a moment. When he's finished he steps away, finally releasing Hancock.

"Alright, you were a good lil whore, go ahead." As soon as Cooper's hand leaves his member Hancock is unable to hold himself back and spills all over the floor and desk.

"If ya need anymore punishin', let me know." He says as he rights his clothing before grabbing the caps and leaving the room.

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The screen fades to black and you find yourself still being teased, "She's a dripping mess Coop." Hancock smiles

"Guess we're gonna have to take care of that now aren't we..."

[brandyllyn]

Silk from their soul (25)

The Ghoul / Cooper Howard x f!reader [no use of y/n]

Rated: E (Cooper needs a primer on consent but it's all good, oral (m receiving), forced orgasms (literally)) Words: 2.4k Summary: Truths

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

Your feet hurt but you refuse to stop.

It’s been hours since you left Nero’s compound, hours of walking without interruption. Cooper’s still there, you can hear his boots on the ground, but he’s been uncharacteristically quiet. 

Good. You’ve got a lot to think about.

Your hands had been steady when you’d ended Galen’s life - but now your whole body seemed to be vibrating. Adrenalin? Shock? It was anybody’s guess, all you knew was that your heart was beating so hard you felt you might burst.

He was dead.

No more experiments. No more games. No more watching women who looked just like you being sold off to the highest bidder.

No more.

You don’t know what you’re supposed to do.

Oh, you know where you’re going. There’s unfinished business to be taken care of. But after that… well, it was complicated now.

“Hate to interrupt a snit, sweetheart, but where exactly are we headed to?”

You don’t falter your stride when you answer, “The facility.”

“The facility,” he hums thoughtfully. “The one that made you?”

“Yes.”

“We gonna find any trouble when we get there?”

You pause and he catches up, looking at you from under the brim of his hat. “Maybe? I don’t think so though. Unless Galen removed me from the security systems.”

“Robots? Lasers? Automated mech suits?”

You give him a rueful look, “Yes.”

“Sounds like a party.”

A snort of laughter bubbles up and you see his grin turn into a warm smile. “You ready to stop for the day or you gonna march that pretty ass all the way there?”

Looking around you spot a partially collapsed building in the distance, “We can stop I guess.”

“Good, ‘cause I got an inkling we need to talk.”

Well shit.

The building is concrete so most of it survived whatever happened in these parts. There’s a wall with a gaping hole, but that looks like it was a roll up door someone has stolen for scrap. Cooper crouches once you’re inside, digging in his pack and eyeing the ground for kindling.

“I’ll get some stuff for the fire,” you offer quickly.

“That’s not necessary, you’re tuckered out. Have a seat.”

“No really I-”

“Sit.”

You do immediately, legs folding under you and hitting the ground with a soft oomph. Cooper eyes you thoughtfully.

“Take your pack off.”

You shrug out of it, setting it to the side and giving him a wary look. He purses his lips and then you see a mischievous light enter his eyes.

“Come.”

The word has many meanings but his tone leaves no doubt which one he intends. Your eyes roll back as the pleasure washes over you. You barely notice when you fall backwards, hitting your head on a small rock but you don’t care. You call his name and suddenly he’s there, leaning over you, his face centimeters from your own.

“Well I’ll be,” he grins down at you, “can’t say that won’t come in handy.”

Your breaths are still shuddering pants when you manage to open your eyes fully, his face coming into focus. He flinches at the fear in them and immediately sits back on his heels.

“Don’t look at me like I’m a monster, darlin’, there’s a host of worse things I could have told you to do.”

You shift away from him, sitting up so you can look him straight on. “And will you?”

His face falls at the question and he bites off a curse. “Sit there and let me fix us some supper, we need to have a talk.” A second later he adds, “That’s not an order.”

The constriction in your chest relaxes and you watch him work, getting the fire going and spearing a couple of pieces of meat to roast. He opens a can of beans and offers it to you and you accept, still side-eyeing him.

“So I reckon you and I need to have a discussion,” he says carefully, “about what precisely is going on here between you and I.”

“I think you figured it out.” You’re sulking, and you know it shows in your tone.

“Maybe I have, but I’d like to hear it from the horse’s mouth, as it were.”

“My sisters and I, we were made to be the perfect partner. Beautiful, loyal, obedient… once we’ve imprinted that’s it.”

“And you’ve ‘imprinted’ on me?” You nod and he cocks his head, “When we kissed, I reckon?”

Another nod, “It’s not as simple as touching mouths, there has to be a… connection I guess? But it’s not hard to get someone to slip, to respond for just a moment.”

“And is that what it was?” He looks hurt. “Just a moment?”

“No, I knew… I knew I didn’t have a choice. If I didn’t want it to be Nero it had to be someone else.”

Cooper huffs a short laugh, “And you got stuck with me.” Before you can say anything he pokes a stick in the fire, glaring into it and saying, “Well I won’t make you stick around. Ain’t got no use for a hanger-on anyway.”

You know he’s lashing out but it still hurts. “I don’t have a choice, if we’re apart too long I’ll… I guess wither is the right word. Eventually I’ll die.”

His eyes shoot to yours. “Loyal, eh?”

“The perfect partner.” You stare at your hands, turning the can to avoid looking at him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Why didn’t you take me in when you found me? You were after the bounty, why’d we go so far out of the way?”

He’s quiet now too, the only sound a distant animal howling. Eventually he sighs. “That was the plan, alright, but then… I dunno. Things changed.”

“Changed how?”

“You did, sweetheart.” With one hand he sweeps his hat off, setting it on the ground near him and pulling his gloves to lay near it. “You acted like I was a still a man and I… well I can’t say I didn’t like it.” You purse your lips, waiting, and after another long pause he continues. “What do you want me to say? I got a soft spot for ya.”

“I seem to remember being drugged and tied up not too long ago,” you point out.

“Well, that was after you ran away from me,” he returns with sardonic look. “Can’t fault a fella for getting a bug up his ass.”

You try to hide you laugh but it slips through and he gives you an answering smile. 

“So,” you say, “if I hadn’t run…”

“Wouldn’t have had to chase you down.”

He makes it sound so reasonable. “And we… I mean, would there have been a we, an us even?”

“The thought did cross my mind.”

You sigh. “Maybe I should have talked to you. I just… I saw the poster and I got so scared.”

“Don’t blame ya. Hell, felt like I was carrying a damn grenade in my pack the whole time.”

“Why didn’t you get rid of it?”

He pauses, frowning at the fire. “Didn’t occur to me.”

You let the silence settle again, feeling out your own emotions and letting him do the same. For a moment it feels like you’re back in that small bunk, the night he’d told you his real name and held you like you were precious. 

“Cooper?” He startles at the sound of his name, eyes flying to yours. “I like you. I probably shouldn’t, given everything that’s happened, but I do. And if I had to imprint on someone, I’m glad it’s you.”

“You sure about that sweetheart?” he asks, hesitation wreathing every syllable. “I can’t say I’m a good man, barely even a man anymore. And knowing you gotta do anything I say… it gives a fella ideas.”

You stare at the small fire. “Would you tell me to hurt myself?”

He seems genuinely shocked by the question. “Of course not.”

“Tell me to fuck other men?”

His face gets downright scary as he snarls, “No one else is touching you.”

“It’s terrifying,” you admit, “just knowing that you could tell me to do anything and I would have to do it. I feel it here, in my chest, I can’t not. Even… even the theoretically good things. I’m worried.”

“You worried I’ll force you to do something you don’t want?”

“I’m worried you won’t even realize.”

You refuse to lift your eyes to see his reaction. It’s silent in the small room, save the crackling of the fire. After a long pause you hear a heavy sigh. “Get over-” he trips on the words and rephrases, “Will you come over here?”

A choice.

Giving him a wide smile you slide his direction, slipping under the arm he holds up and tucking yourself into his side. He offers you a skewer and you bite into the crisp flesh while he does the same. 

“I ain’t ever made a woman do something she don’t want in bed, I ain’t about to start now.” He says after a moment. “How ‘bout this? I ever tell you to do something you don’t want you say barbed wire. That work for ya?”

It’s a safety hatch, of sorts, and requires a lot of trust. Still... you did trust him. Maybe it was idiotic but you trusted him with your life already… maybe you could trust him with your body too.

“Is that for all the time, or just… you know?”

He grins, settling his hand on your knee. “Well, I reckon you can use it just about whenever, but I gotta be honest I had some bedroom activities in mind that that little gift of your might prove useful for.” 

God you love this playful side of him. “Oh? Like what?”

The hand moves to your thigh, sliding up and under the hem of your dress. “Well I’ve been thinking a few things. Things like, can I just tell you not to gag?”

A flush rips through your body and you’re immediately so turned on you can’t see straight. You’re still wet from your orgasm and you moan when his fingers press to the outside of your panties. 

“You like that idea? I got a few more.” He pets you gently then twists the fabric away so he can press two fingers inside you. “Been wondering if I can order you to relax this pretty little ass and let me slide right in there. Maybe see how many times I can make you come in a row. Get my cock all the way down your throat and facefuck you til you got my cum dripping out of you.”

You nod, fingers gripping his wrist. “Yes.”

“Yes to which one, darling?” He’s leering down, his tongue startling pink against his rough lips. “I’m going to need you to be clear, I don’t want no repeats of a bit ago.”

“Can I-” a soft moan interrupts as he crooks his fingers inside you, “Can I suck on you?”

“Ah darlin’,” he purrs, “anytime you want.”

Hands pull at his belt, both yours and his, and he helps you maneuver between his legs. You hadn’t actually seen him before, and he’s as scarred here as he is everywhere else.

“Does it hurt?” You ask softly, running a finger down his length. He lets out a hiss between his teeth and you jerk your hand back. Just as quick his fingers grip your wrist and pull you back, encouraging you to wrap your fingers around him.

“You feel like silk, darlin’, why don’t you get that pretty mouth down here too?”

You kiss him in response, then lower your head to press a kiss to the tip of his cock. He grunts, one hand coming up to grip the back of your neck. You slide him between your lips, cradling him on your tongue as you bob your head forward. When he hits the back of your tongue you gag, pulling back slightly and blinking up at him.

“Ah darlin’.” He pets your cheek and then says sternly, “Don’t gag.”

You feel the compulsion shiver through you and you push forward once more, feeling him slip further with ease. When he hits your throat there’s a moment of discomfort but a quick, “Don’t choke neither,” from him smooths the way. Your nose presses to his stomach, your mouth full of his heat.

A rough groan rends the air and you glance up to see his head thrown back, his throat working. You suck softly and pull back, feel him slide along your tongue, then take him completely once more.

“I can see why you were worth so much to that fucker.” You let your teeth graze him and he grunts, meeting your glare with a lop-sided smile. “It was a compliment.”

You hum and pull back further, waiting until his hand catches your neck and he stops you.

“Now now, no need for that,” he chides, “why don’t you let me fuck this gorgeous mouth and when I say so we both come. That alright by you?”

A moan vibrates out of you and you lick around the head of his cock. He must take that as a yes because he interlocks his fingers behind your head and pushes forward until he’s deep in your throat once more. It feels strange, but there’s no discomfort. Just the hard length of him moving past your lips.

You love it.

You love hearing him groan and grunt. Hear his breathing speed up and his boots scrape on the floor. Feel his fingers dig into your skin.

“Can I come in your mouth?” he pants and you nod, your healing should take care of it and if not, there was always the Rad-Away. “Fuck,” he grits out, “fuck fuck-”

He’s so deep you almost don’t taste it, salty and burning hot in the back of your throat. It’s sour, but you don’t mind, you can’t get enough of how he holds you to him while he comes.

And then he remembers.

“Come for me.”

It’s instant. Relief and pleasure and sheer bliss rocketing through you. You suck on him harder and hear him curse, your own sharp cry muffled by the cock filling your mouth. He pushes you away, his hands on your shoulders and you blink up at him in a daze. With a sly grin he presses a thumb to your lower lip.

“Do it again.”

When you regain your sense of self - minutes, maybe hours later who even knows - he’s got his arms wrapped around you and a smug smile on his face.

“Now darlin’, I reckon we’re going to have a hell of a lot of fun with that.”

☢ ☢ ☢

For updates follow and turn on notifications for @brandyllyn-writes

[phoenixyfriend]

It would be great if people stopped using real atrocities as an excuse to hate on a White Girl Brand.

Even BDS does not focus on Starbucks. They haven't mentioned it since 2014.

"I'm boycotting Starbucks in support of Palestine!" No, chance are you saw a chance to talk shit about a brand that's popular and it makes you feel like you're better than everyone else. It gets notes. Why talk about actual boycotts like Chevron and HP and Sodastream and Puma when you can give people an excuse to hate That Popular Thing That Girls Like?

"But they shut down that one group for being pro-Palestine!" They shut it down with political speech as the EXCUSE. That was not about Palestine. It was about unions. That was a union-busting action. Not a political one. It was a stupid union-busting action because of the bad press it got them for supposedly being pro-Israel, but it was about the union. From the corporate perspective, it was about the union. It was a chance to take down one of the unions.

EDIT: Other claims of explicit zionism by the company as a whole have been debunked. The matter of Howard Schultz is more complicated. See below.

Boycott the company for its union-busting. A boycott without a clear message doesn't do shit, and you are wasting your time and energy, and spreading misinformation besides.

You are NOT HELPING PALESTINE by spreading misinformation. Sure, the opportunity to hate on Starbucks is going to mean more people share your past and it goes farther, but it's also going to make them think that boycotting a company that has nothing to do with Israel is going to help, rather than, say, paying attention to the gas pumps they use or the food they eat.

The above image is from the BDS page on economic boycotts. It's official as of early January. This is on the same page:

We must strategically focus on a relatively smaller number of carefully selected companies and products for maximum impact. We need to target companies that play a clear and direct role in Israel’s crimes and where there is real potential for winning, as was the case with, among others, G4S, Veolia, Orange, Ben & Jerry’s and Pillsbury. Compelling large, complicit companies, through strategic and context-sensitive boycott and divestment campaigns, to end their complicity in Israeli apartheid and war crimes against Palestinians sends a very powerful message to hundreds of other complicit companies that “your time will come, so get out before it’s too late!”

Many of the prohibitively long lists going viral on social media do the exact opposite of this strategic and impactful approach. They include hundreds of companies, many without credible evidence of their connection to Israel’s regime of oppression against Palestinians. Many do not have clear demands to the companies as to what we expect them to do to end the boycott, making them ineffective.

I'm not saying that Starbucks SHOULDN'T be held accountable for using the Gaza war as a point of contention in their unrelated union situation. It was a shitty thing to do, and incidentally and indirectly supported Israel.

EDIT: I've been given some information on how Howard Schultz, the CEO, has investment ties to Wiz and other Israeli companies that are actually involved with current events. This is significantly more than I was previously finding. If you choose to boycott for this reason, have at ye.

However, I do still hold to my stance that companies ACTUALLY BEING TARGETED by BDS should be the ones name-dropped in posts that feature calls to action. It's a matter of efficiency and effectiveness. The more people that are led to believe that Starbucks is the biggest bad in the room, the less people will join in boycotts and divestment of McDonald's, Papa John's, Pizza Hut, Burger King, Wiz, Airbnb, Caterpillar, Chevron, and all the other companies that BDS is saying are actually important to stop giving money to.

Back to the original post.

But.

BUT

The proliferation of specifically anti-Starbucks rhetoric as a supposed form of pro-Palestine Action is overshadowing ACTUAL ACTION. If every single post about boycotting to support Palestine mentions Starbucks, and maybe Puma or Sodastream, but doesn't mention any of the two dozen other companies that BDS states are actually crucial to making a change, including other American food franchises (that just do happen to be more stereotypically boy-popular, like pizza and burger chains), then you are ACTIVELY taking away support from the boycotts that matter.

And the reason this happens is because "Starbucks bad" feeds into the confirmation bias for people that already dislike it for being popular or overpriced or not to their taste.

So take a step back. Ask yourself, "am I boycotting Starbucks because I actually believe it will help and am listening to groups like BDS, or am I just using this as an excuse to badger people into avoiding a franchise I already dislike?"

Okay? We on the same page?

Great. Now check if your local Starbucks is unionized, if their union is asking customers to boycott THEM, and then maybe boycott anyway.

But check if it's actually doing something or just distracting you from real activism, first.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

I'm From Brooklyn, Too ~ 161

OUT OF TIME MASTERLIST

I'M FROM BROOKLYN, TOO MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,186ish

Summary: Y/N lashes out.

Notes: THERE’S A FEW! First, sorry if there were any mistakes I didn’t catch! My puppy, Milo, gets jealous when I’m on the computer. He likes to slam his paws on the keyboard, try to close my laptop, and try to eat my hand. Second, I’m actually really excited for RDJ to play Doom! I know there are various opinions about the casting, but I’m excited. I’d love to hear your views, but please be respectful.

Y/N tried to put her focus on Morgan as Natasha was trying to figure out this new Captain America situation. Both Morgan and Natasha noticed that Y/N’s powers were acting up despite Y/N trying to push away the Captain America problem. Random portals would appear throughout the house, or whatever Y/N was holding would turn to dust. There was also the time when Y/N froze time for a few hours. Natasha had to answer Morgan’s questions about what was happening, since Morgan seemed too scared to go to to her own mother about it.

One week since the new Captain America announcement, Morgan was put to bed so Y/N and Natasha found themselves in the living room with the tv on. They had been up for hours, trying to figure out what to do about the new Captain America.

“I don’t know if there’s anything we can do about this new Captain America,” Natasha said.

“There has to be something,” Y/N retorted. “They can’t do this.”

“They believe they can. It definitely doesn’t help that Sam gave away the shield.”

“The shield wasn’t his to give away. Howard made the shield—or Tony, or whoever made it! It’s not theirs!”

“Y/N, there’s portals behind you.” Y/N took a deep breath and the portals closed. “Your emotions are controlling your powers. I thought you had more of a handle on this.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Nat. I’m sorry that in the last six months I’ve watched my husband die, saved the world, and was trapped in Wanda’s fake reality. And let’s not forget that my brother left me and died and his—my—our best friend is moving on.” Y/N shook her head angrily. “There’s also the fact that I’m failing as a mother to my child and the two that I adopted because Tony loved them so much!”

“Y/N. Your fists.” Y/N looked to see that her fists were glowing purple. “You need to see a therapist.”

Y/N scoffed. “Why? So that I can be judged for my actions by some unknown stranger?”

“That’s not what a therapist does and you know it. I’ve begun seeing someone and I know that Bucky has.”

“I’m sure Bucky’s is court mandated.”

“And I’m sure, with Rhodey’s help, we can do the same thing to you.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a help. You are not in a good mental place, which is understandable. But you cannot be of help to anyone—including Morgan, Peter, and Harley, without getting some help.”

Before Y/N could answer, their attentions turned to the tv, where a high school marching band was playing ‘Star Spangled Man With A Plan’ and the new Captain America was coming out on stage to where a news anchor was waiting. The crowd in the stands of the high school football stadium cheered as an announcer welcomed the new Captain.

“Good morning, America!” The man greeted. The crowd cheered and Y/N felt like she was going to puke. 

“Thank you so much for coming,” the anchor said as the man sat down. “This has gotta be fun, though, coming back to your high school after so much as changed?”

“John Walker!” A man shouted from the stands.

John chuckled. “Oh, it’s great.” The crowd cheered again, cutting John off from saying more.

“John, I think the first thing everyone wants to know is what is it like being Captain America?” The anchor asked. “Do eagles fly overhead wherever you go?”

John laughed. “Uh, yes. Yeah, that and flags tend to start majestically waving in the wind.”

“And how’s the tour been? I know they did a big rollout for you, right?”

“It’s the greatest honor of my life. Um, but I’m just a little shocked, I think. How did a guy like me end up here?”

“Oh, wait, wait, wait. ‘A guy like me’? Somebody’s being a bit too humble. For those of you who aren’t familiar with his resume, John Walker, first person in American history to receive three Medals of Honor, ran RS-One missions in counterterrorism and hostage rescue.” 

Pictures and video clips were shown on the tv of what the anchor was talking about. Including a video of him practicing with the shield. Y/N’s hands began to glow purple. 

“The government did a study of your body at MIT, and you tested off the charts in every measurable category,” the anchor continued.“Speed, endurance, intelligence—“

“Look, here’s the thing, uh, I’m not Tony Stark, I’m not Dr. Banner, okay?” John interrupted. “I don’t have the flashiest gadgets, I don’t have super strength. But what I do have is guts. Something Captain America always had, always needs to have, and I’m gonna need every ounce of it. Because I got big shoes to fill.”

“Did you know Steve Rogers?”

“I was two years out of West Point when Steve came back on the scene. I followed his career very closely as an Avenger. I like to think that I modeled my work after his.”

“So, you’ve always wanted to be a hero?”

“I liked that what I was doing would make people feel safe. Steve Rogers was the kind of guy who could do that, he gave me hope. Even though I never met him, he feels like a brother.”

Before Y/N could even think, she was rushing through a portal to where John was answering questions. Natasha called out for her but the portal shut between them.

“A brother?” Y/N’s voice wickedly echoed through the stadium as she climbed up the steps of the stage. The crowd grew eerily quiet as wisps of her power floated around Y/N. “He feels like a brother to you?”

John was quick to stand up. “Y/N. It’s an honor—“

“You have no idea what the hell you’re talking about. You are a false Captain America. You will never be what Steve was.”

“Why don’t we go somewhere private and talk—“

“Maybe you should have thought about this before you pranced around the country. Maybe even before you said yes to this position. A position that wasn’t even yours to take.” Y/N’s hands grew brighter with her anger. “That shield is not yours. You do not deserve the history or the weight behind it. You’re done here.” 

With a snap of her fingers, Y/N set the camera’s on fire. The crowd began screaming and rushing out of the stadium. John held his ground, though Y/N could sense that he was growing more terrified by the second. In a flash, Y/N was standing centimeters away from John.

“The shield is property of my family,” Y/N’s whisper was terrifying. “I will get it back unless you want to do the right thing.”

“I am Captain America.”

“Fine. Have it your way.” A darkness found Y/N’s eyes that terrified John to his core. “I will have that shield and you will not be Captain America. I will make sure of it.”

~~~

Rhodey threw down the magazines with an anger that Y/N had never seen before. The headlines were on the same: Y/N ROGERS-STARK GONE CRAZY! The articles were all similar as well. How dangerous Y/N’s powers were. How she should be locked up.

“I thought you had it under control,” Rhodey’s tone meant that there was no room for lies.

“I do have it under control,” Y/N replied. She was looking down at her hands, unable to meet the gazes of those staring at her. 

Natasha, Pepper, and Rhodey were all standing on the other side of the dining room table. Happy was outside, keeping Morgan busy. The Secret Service was stationed inside and outside the house, keeping Y/N and Rhodey in their sights.

“This doesn’t look that way!” Rhodey continued. “They want me to lock you up in Raft! Raft, Y/N! No Morgan, no Peter, no Harley.”

“I have it under control. I just— I lost my temper. It won’t happen again.”

Rhodey scoffed. “Too late, Y/N. The whole world saw you and your powers. They know that you have the power of the Stones and they are calling for action.”

“I can fix this.”

“How?”

“Let me talk to Sam. Sam is meant to be Captain America.”

“That’s not fixing it.” 

“Y/N,” Pepper finally spoke up, “there is something you can do to help this. It’s a failsafe that Tony came up with.”

“No!” Natasha was quick to answer. “Tony only created those for life threatening situations. This is not life threatening.”

“The people don’t see it that way,”

“What are you talking about?” Y/N finally looked up at all of them.

Natasha sighed. “Back when your powers were emerging and our knowledge of the Stones began to grow, Tony noticed the toll it was taking on you,” she explained. “He created a device to control your powers.”

“What?” Y/N was devastated to think that Tony might have been scared of her and that he created something to protect everyone from her.

“Tony created it as a protection for you more than from you. The Stones were taking so much of your strength each time you used powers. He was worried that one day it would be too much and that they would fully control you.”

“He— you all knew?”

“It was a backup,” Rhodey added. “He gave us access to it before the mission to retrieve the Stones.”

A part of Y/N felt betrayed, while another understood the concern surrounding her abilities. “What are they? How do they work?”

“FRIDAY, pull up project ALWAYS.”

A hologram appeared above the table. Two bracelets spun around in it as well as a video. Y/N kept her eyes on the video, an image of Tony already showing.

“We’ll leave you to watch this alone,” Pepper said as they all left the room.

Y/N stared at the hologram. She couldn’t get herself to play the video. Tony would be so disappointed in her, and she couldn’t handle that. Not now.

“Would you like me to play the video?” FRIDAY asked.

Y/N swallowed down some of her emotion before responding quietly, “Yes.”

Tony’s image took over the hologram. His eyes bore into Y/N’s like he was actually there. Images of Tony’s last moments played through Y/N’s mind.

“Hey, honey,” Tony’s words brought her out of her thoughts. “If you’re seeing this, then something has happened where I couldn’t be there for you, and your powers overtook you… I am sorry that I couldn’t be there myself to help you go through whatever you are going through. I hate myself for it.” Y/N began to cry. 

“Before I continue, I want you to know that I made these bracelets to protect you,” Tony continued. “I didn’t make them because I was scared of you or to protect others from you, but to protect you. Your powers… I have watched them take more and more from you as the years go on. I know that you don’t have them as I speak, but bringing the Stones back will do something; I know it. You will have them and have to do your best to control your power before it controls you.”

“This bracelets were made out of materials that once harnessed the Stones,” Tony explained. “I was able to get scraps here and there. There’s also an updated grade of whatever SHIELD made their detention cells out of. The bracelets were never tested, but many simulations were run. The bracelets are controlled by FRIDAY. FRIDAY has the ability to turn them on and off by command. Your voice is the only command she won’t listen to unless it’s an absolute emergency.”

“Y/N… I love you… Always.”

Tony’s image disappeared, and Y/N wiped away her tears as he tried not to break out into sobs. Natasha was the first one back in the room. 

“Y/N…” a whisper fell from her lips. She came over and sat beside her friend. Natasha grabbed one of Y/N’s hands.

“How… how could he love me so much… he knew… deep down, he knew that it would always be Bucky for me,” Y/N was going to break. “Yet… yet he continues to amaze me, even after death.”

“Tony also wanted what was best for you, no matter what.”

“I’ll do it. I’ll wear the bracelets.”

~~~

The bracelets felt heavy on Y/N’s wrists, despite knowing they were lighter than most. Everyone had left after Y/N recorded an apology video. She hated that she had to do that, especially since she meant the threats she made to the false Captain America. Currently, it was dark outside. Morgan was asleep in bed, and Y/N sat on the porch, staring at the water. The peace was interrupted by her phone buzzing. She answered it before even looking at who was calling.

“Hello?” She answered.

“Hey, Y/N,” Bucky’s voice rang out through the phone. “How are you?”

next chapter >

[captain039]

PART 2 The lord and lady (Cooper Howard)

Cooper Howard x reader

Bridgerton and Cooper Howard is a muussstt

Warnings: Olden times, swearing, age gap, tension, slow burn, plus size reader, fat shaming, parental abuse, sexual things, eventual smut, angst, AOB (suppressed by vault tec)

I’m also gonna focus more on the AOB side, make it more AOB than I have been xD

I’m trying to use less Y/n but also failing lol

New mum and dad

Lady Grace

Lord Philip xD

Previous part <-

The morning after the ball makes you wish you never woke up. Your servant Diana greets you kindly before helping you get ready for the day. You feel sickly this morning, you sip some warm tea but it does nothing to soothe. Your father is nowhere to be seen thankfully and your Mama looks just as tired as you. One of the doorman walk in though saying their is a caller for you and you frown. Who on this earth would see you after last night, Lucy would surely be busy with suitors and so would the other ladies. The only other person you talked to was Lord-

Said lord walks in as if summoned by your thoughts, flowers in his hands and slips off his hat handing it to the doorman with a small thanks.

“Oh Lord Howard” your mama smiled at him as you stare baffled before your mama ushers you up.

“Greetings Lord Howard” you nod your head trying to look less tired than you’re feeling.

“Lady Grace” he greets before greeting you also.

“Such lovely flowers you have” your mama says when you don’t speak.

“Ah yes, here” the Lord looks down slightly with subtle embarrassment as he hands your mama the flowers. She places them in a vase as the Lord looks to you. You suck in a small breath feeling yourself jolt at the smell of honeyed whiskey and leather. You feel as if you should be appalled by such a smell, your father often drinking of the liquor but on the lord.

“Are you well my lady?” Lord Howard asks as you focus back on his worried face.

“Yes sorry, I had a restless sleep I’m afraid” you chuckle nervously glancing to your mama on the couch as she smiles.

“And at the ball?” He asks.

“I must’ve drank some off lemonade” you say before silently wishing you didn’t just share that with a gentleman.

“Apologise Lord Howard, I am well” you cover up eyes on the floor.

“It’s alright not to be” he says it softly, only for you to hear and you look up to him again. You feel as if you could jump in his arms and he’d gladly embrace you tightly, nose pressed against his neck. You look to his neck again mouth parting slightly before the front door is slammed shut. Your whole body jolts and a sour feeling pools in your stomach and floods your body. He’s probably drunk, or worse if there was anything worse.

“Lord Howard” your father says surprised as the man turns around, keeping you behind him.

“I’m afraid I didn’t expect anyone here” your father’s words slur despite him trying to keep up appearances.

“Dear, perhaps you should rest up, you’ve had a long morning” your mama speaks softly despite your father sneering at her. He goes to his room with the hell of a doorman having to help him up the stairs before your mama turns around, cheeks red with embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry, Lord Howard” she whispers afraid he may hear and you struggle to breathe a little. It’s always the same when guests are around.

“Perhaps you should go my lord” you suggest wondering why he even came in the first place. Your mama says your name a little snapped then apologises.

“When Lord Philip is well again we will have you over” she smiles as Lord Howard turns to you.

“I came in truth, to see if you’d like to see the foal? Your mama was telling me you loved horses while you needed some air” Lord Howard speaks a little quickly his face slightly in shock like he didn’t expect to say that.

“Yes that’d be wonderful” your mama beams as you’re left speechless as to why he’s even bothering himself to be here.

“After the next ball I’ll send an invitation” Lord Howard smiles.

“For your whole family, dinner too” he adds and your mama thanks him as he heads out the drawing room.

Cooper

His hands tremble as he takes his hat from the doorman and leaves your home. He sucks in the fresh air of the morning and sighs head hanging. He shouldn’t have been so obvious, or maybe he should’ve declared for your hand then and there just so your scent wouldn’t be so sour with fear. He knew your father’s reputation, horrid alpha of a man, drink bastard and a no doubt a family beater. He hadn’t seen you since you first went to lessons and fell off your horse. He hated the seething anger and rage he smelt on your father and the fear on you and your mother. You still hadn’t presented, you hadn’t undergone that stage of society outing yet. It’s already emerging though, last night he caught a spike in your scent, the beautiful sweetness of omega presenting for the first time. He knew then and there you were his, your eyes lingering on his neck, the way your tongue ran across your bottom lip slightly as you stared. He would’ve brought you close to him, let you know him, know his scent, breathe him in. His body shudders at the thought, your body against his, soft and warm, plump thighs and stomach. When you ran off in a fluster he almost smirked to himself to he caught fear and anger. Your mother had been pulled away from mid conversation too by her angry alpha. He excused himself from the young lady Maclean and weaved through the crowd only to see you getting shoved into the carriage like some lame mule. It made his blood boil, made him squeeze his glass of lemonade so hard he almost shattered it. He went home early also, in a rage, scared he may start a fight or argument with one of the members of society, hell one of the Overseers little following pups. Probably the Lord Maclean if he really thought about it. When he went home he sat with his mare and her foal, the young colt snorting at him intruding his space before realising he had pets and treats to offer.

The morning he wasn’t thinking as he went to your door, it wouldn’t be strange for a gentlemen to call on a lady from her first ball. You were so young though, not knowing anything of the true world. He’s thankful your father couldn’t abuse his power as alpha over you seeing as you didn’t know what it was. It didn’t ease his mind completely though. When he walked in you were sat in the couch in a daze before your mother snapped you out of it. You looked exhausted your eyes were dull and you almost swayed on your feet. You told him you were ill and tired before apologising. God help him he wanted nothing more than to bring you close, carry you to your bedroom, help you make a nest and comfort you till you slept properly. His time was cut short but the stench and sad excuse of a father coming through your door. The lord of the house stank of booze and simmering rage, how could one man even if he was an alpha have that much rage just simmering at the surface. Your poor mother had to steer him away before anything could be done and he let himself blurt the invitation of you coming to his ranch to see his mare and her foal, and dinner. He swore to himself silently as he took the carriage home, he didn’t want that damn Lord Philip anywhere near his house drinking his property of over angry alpha. It was his new safe place for you even if you didn’t know it. He’d protect you no matter the cost now.

[gunsandspaceships]

Review of some anti-Tony comments from Ao3. Part 6

Let’s talk more about things from Part 1 today:

 “Tony was actively attacking someone from behind, who was just trying to leave.”

Eh? So how did that happen that he only attacked from behind ONCE? Semi-behind, to be exact - see my post with Part 1. Why Bucky tried to leave if he was innocent? Just like he did before with T’Challa. “Why did you run?”.

I’ll add the extension of that statement here so we could figure the whole thing out: “Steve was actively defending said person in any way, even if that meant attacking Tony from behind.

And before you get on me about how I'm being hypocritical - it's been done - it isn't the action that's being criticized, it's the WHY behind the action. Tony repeatedly attacked someone from behind who was only trying to flee the scene vs Steve repeatedly attacked someone from behind to protect his best friend from being killed. That's the difference between the two. You can't hold them to the same standard when their reasons for doing the same action are complete opposites. It isn't the action; it's the reasons BEHIND the action.”

Let’s think about the most appropriate thing Bucky could do in the scene instead. Well, first he could say “I’m sorry”. That would be a good start. Doesn’t matter if he was brainwashed or not – his hands were used. “Sorry” is always good in such situations. He didn’t do that.

Instead he raised his gun at Tony and was ready to fire at his face (CA:CW 2:03:15). Yes, Tony hit Cap there. But it was for a reason. And you simply don’t point a gun at a guy who just watched his parents die by your hands, if you are innocent and truly regret this. It was so wrong to attack him that it just showed Bucky’s position “there’s nothing to explain and nothing to apologies for”, if the best thing Bucky could do is to raise his gun and run. Low and cowardly.

But we should actually take a closer look at that scene (starting from 2:02:17), because it’s even more complicated if we watch the scene frame by frame.

2:01:33 – Tony is watching the video of his parents’ death. Steve looks at him with a very interesting expression. At him, not at the video. He already knows what’s going on there. He is looking at Tony for his reaction.

2:01:38 – focus on Bucky who looks a bit regretful, looking at the floor first, but then raising his eyes to Tony.

2:01:53 – Tony hears his father saying “Sergeant Barnes” and his mother calling “Howard!”. Tony glances at Bucky.

2:02:05 – Winter Soldier hits Howard in the head and kills him. Tony’s expression tells us he is enraged.

2:02:25 – Winter Soldier kills Maria, strangling her with his biological hand.

2:02:33 – video ends with Winter Soldier shooting at the camera. Tony is in shock. Steve is looking at him, saying nothing. He had enough time to say something.

2:02:40 – Tony turns to Bucky and makes a step towards him. Not putting his helmet on. He is not attacking yet. Most probably he just wanted to grab him by his jacket and ask some questions or something like that. What Bucky does? He raised his gun at him. We can see tears in his eyes. Why did he do that then?

2:02:42 – Steve says “No, Tony. Tony”. He says that to calm him down, and that would be a good start. But then he does some “stupid-ass decisions”, how Fury would put that.

2:02:45 – Tony turns to him. He is devastated. He just realized something. “Did you know?”. Steve’s eyes are shifting rapidly, and after a long pause (when he was thinking of what to say, I guess), he says “I didn’t know it was him”. By his behavior here we can infer that he is lying. Tony sees it “Don’t bullshit, me Rogers. Did you know?”. Steve looks Tony in the eyes and swallows hard. “Yes”.

Let’s make a digression to show Steve really knew that Bucky killed Tony’s parents.

CA:WS 1:04:50 – Zola is explaining how Hydra eliminated unwanted individuals. Chronicle footage shows Bucky with a sniper rifle and then next frame with news article about Starks’ death. Zola says “Accidents will happen”. Next few frames show Howard in the car in the same position Bucky left him in the CA:CW 2:02:10 scene.  Then Fury’s file is shown, “deceased” – another victim of the Winter Soldier. No need to be a genius to put two and two together. Especially when you don’t know that there were other Winter Soldiers yet. There were no other options – Steve and Nat knew that Howard was killed by Bucky from that exact moment. But let’s add more evidence, shall we?

CA:WS 2:05:28 – Natasha gives Bucky’s case files to Steve. Logic tells us that they should contain his targets. Including Howard and Maria.

CA:CW 2:15:52 – Steve’s letter says “I know I hurt you, Tony. I guess I thought by not telling you about your parents I was sparing you, but I can see now that I was really sparing myself. And I’m sorry…”

Conclusion is pretty clear, isn’t it?

Let’s get back to the pre-fight situation:

So Steve admitted that he knew who killed Tony’s parents (and his own old friend btw).

2:03:05 – Steve’s “Yes” hits Tony. Rogers is just looking at him there. No sorrow or regret in his eyes. Tony loses it.

He is the victim in this scene. He came to help and was betrayed again.

2:03:12 – he hits Rogers with back of his hand. Cap is thrown a couple of steps back.

2:03:15 - Tony puts his helmet on. Now he is going to attack.

Put yourself on his place and answer the question “wouldn’t you act the same way?”. If your answer is “nope, I wouldn’t” - try to pass a CAPTCHA, because you are most probably a robot.

Same moment – Bucky points his gun at Tony. He almost opens fire, but Tony shoots the gun with a repulsor, knocking the weapon out of Bucky's hands. Back to the beginning of this essay – why would you shoot at a victim? Tony, most probably, would just hit him couple of times using his hands, if he had not faced counter aggression.

 Bucky is not running here. He wasn’t trying to run until Steve told him to at 2:04:02. He is attacking Tony. Look at his face (2:03:17). This is not the face of regret or sorrow.

[winters8child]

It´s been a long, long time

Chapter 23

We fell asleep in each other’s arms, only to be jolted awake by a series of loud, impatient knocks on the door. The curtains were still drawn, making it impossible to tell the time. It must have been late evening by now, given that I had arrived at the hotel around noon. Bucky stirred beside me, rubbing his eyes as he tried to get up without disturbing me, but when he saw that I was already awake, he leaned over and gave me a quick, tender peck on the forehead before heading to the door. Before he could ask who was there, Steve’s voice came from the other side.

“It’s me, Steve. I need to talk to you.”

Bucky glanced back at me, silently asking if it was okay to open the door. I was still naked under the covers, and I would have preferred not to have Steve see me like this, so I shook my head.

Bucky opened the door just a crack and asked what Steve needed.

“We need to go over the plans for the Howling Commandos mission. Meet me in the lobby in ten minutes—the both of you,” Steve said, his voice as cold and detached as ever. Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away.

Bucky and I dressed in silence, the weight of the situation pressing down on us. I was aware of the curious glances from the other Commandos, but I was past the point of caring about their opinions or judgments. I expected at least a few lewd comments, but to my surprise, no one said a word, as if they were deliberately ignoring us.

In the lobby, Steve had spread out a map on the large table, and we gathered around it. Points marked in red indicated Hydra hideouts. He was all business, giving instructions and strategizing with a professionalism that left no room for personal feelings. I was nervous, struggling to focus on the details of the plan. My first real mission was imminent, and I could barely keep my hands steady. To distract myself, I took out my handgun and began to disassemble it, just as Howard Stark had taught me. I found the rhythmic motion of cleaning and reassembling the weapon oddly soothing, so I continued to do it over and over, trying to beat my previous time.

My focus was so intense that I didn’t hear Steve approach until he touched my shoulder. I looked up, surprised to find him standing there, his eyes hard and unreadable.

“Your job is to protect Dernier. We’re all relying on you to keep him safe. Don’t leave his side, is that clear?” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The formality of his command stung. I understood that he was hurt, but I hadn’t expected him to be so cold.

“Yes, Captain,” I replied, my voice barely more than a whisper. I turned back to my handgun, trying to keep my focus on the task at hand. Steve left us with a curt nod, reminding us that the attack was scheduled for the next morning and that we should get some rest.

As everyone retreated to their rooms, I found myself alone with Steve in the lobby. Bucky had slipped away without me noticing. Steve was sitting by the fireplace, his head in his hands, lost in thought. I was torn between the desire to hide in my room and the need to resolve things between us. I took a deep breath and sat down in the chair opposite him.

I watched him for a moment, trying to decipher his emotions, but he remained still, his face hidden by the shadow of his hands.

“I can’t do this,” he said finally, his voice breaking. “I can’t pretend everything is okay, like you didn’t betray me. After all those months we spent together, I thought you might have felt something for me, that maybe I was finally good enough.” His eyes were wet, his voice trembling with hurt and anger.

I reached out to touch his hand, but he pulled back, standing up and beginning to pace.

“I’m sorry, Steve. I can’t change the past, but that doesn’t mean my feelings for you were any less real,” I said, struggling to keep my own emotions in check.

His eyes were red, his frustration raw. “Would you undo it if you could? Would you change what happened?”

I couldn’t bring myself to lie, but I also couldn’t regret the love I’d shared with Bucky. The silence between us was deafening, the only answer my unspoken truth.

“Be mad at me,” Bucky’s voice cut through the silence as he appeared at the top of the stairs. He walked down with a determined stride, his eyes locked on Steve’s. “Be mad at me, because I’m the one who lied to you all these years. I’ve been lying to you from the day we met her, because you never had the courage to confront your feelings.” His voice rose with anger, his finger jabbing at Steve’s chest.

I tried to intervene, but the situation spiraled beyond my control.

“I’m mad,” Steve shouted, his voice echoing off the walls. “I’m mad at her, I’m mad at you, and I’m mad at myself. I’m angry at myself because the first thing I felt when I found you in that Hydra base was dread. Dread that no matter what I did, I would never be enough.” With that, he shoved Bucky aside and stormed upstairs to his room.

I was left standing there, stunned into silence, unable to find the words to make things right.

I sank into the chair by the fireplace, staring at the dying embers as my thoughts spun in a chaotic whirl. Bucky sat beside me, his hand resting gently on my shoulder.

“We should try to get some sleep. We won’t resolve this tonight, and tomorrow’s mission is important,” he said softly.

I nodded, too exhausted to argue. “You go on ahead. I’ll be up in a minute.”

He left without another word, and I was left alone in the quiet, the weight of the coming battle pressing heavily on my mind. As the hours ticked by, I dozed off in the chair, my dreams filled with visions of a blood-soaked battlefield and a heart still beating as I crushed it in my hand, laughing maniacally.

I was jolted awake by Falsworth’s concerned voice.

“Did you really sleep here?” he asked, noticing the blanket someone had draped over me and the cold ashes of the fire.

I stretched, wincing at the sharp pain in my back. “I must have fallen asleep,” I said.

He handed me a cup of coffee, its taste as bitter as my mood. “We’re the first ones up. You look like you’ve had a rough night. What’s on your mind?”

I liked Falsworth, but I wasn’t in the mood for a heart-to-heart. “I’m just nervous about the mission,” I said, taking a sip of the coffee.

He gave me a skeptical look but didn’t push further. “I know something that might lift your spirits,” he said, grinning as he handed me a small packet of “Cadbury’s Ration Chocolate.”

“It’s British chocolate,” he said proudly. “Better than the stuff you get over there.”

I was surprised he still had chocolate rations. “Are you sure? Don’t you want it for yourself?” I asked.

He shook his head. “You need it more than I do.”

“Thank you, James,” I said, tearing open the packet and taking a bite. The chocolate was delicious, a rare treat amidst the war.

When he saw me smile, he patted my hand and said, “Whatever’s bothering you, it’ll work out. Or maybe we’ll all die today and it won’t matter anyway.” His sarcasm was a small comfort.

“Fingers crossed,” I mumbled around a mouthful of chocolate.

Soon, the other Commandos began to stir, their nervous energy palpable as they prepared for the mission. I returned to my room to put on my suit, re-cleaned my handgun, and polished my knife. Another knock on my door interrupted my preparations.

“Coming!” I called, opening the door to find Bucky standing there.

He looked me up and down, his expression a mix of nostalgia and sadness. “It feels like just yesterday we were sitting by the lake, reading our books,” he said, holding my arms gently. “Be careful out there, okay?”

I nodded, trying to push away the sentimentality. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

He gave me a reassuring kiss before leaving. I rummaged through my handbag for the small, tarnished ladybug charm Steve had given me. It wasn’t as shiny as it once was, much like me, but I hoped it might bring some luck. I pinned it to my collar, took a deep breath, and headed downstairs to face the day’s challenges.

Next Chapter

[avasassisstant01]

All the possibilities

Janine Teagues x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: After 3 years, you finally confess your feelings for Janine to her. Of course, its not without some misunderstandings. Wordcount: 6.1k

Angst with happy ending

Warnings: None really

Shoutout and idea credit to: @lilfartbox1 for being the only reason this has come to be what it became. Thank you.

The chatter of your 4th graders working on an art project filled your classroom while you sat with your headphones on, trying to grade their most recent maths papers. Your favourite songs played, loud enough to help you stay focused but not loud enough to miss something happening between your students. 

It wasn't the conventional approach to quiet time, but your kids (although they tried) were terrible at keeping quiet and letting you focus. You had to make some kind of plan.

You looked up at the kids every few seconds to make sure there was still order.

Content with what you saw, you looked at your desk, sticking a sticker onto one of your most struggling maths student's test, a calculator with the words 'proud of you' on its screen. You smiled, proud that he was finally making some progress with his long multiplication.

A knock came at your door. Your heart jumped and you threw your headphones off out of instinct. Although you took pride in your headphone analogy, if one of the older teachers saw you, like Barbara; you'd be horrified. You had worked hard for the past 3 years to prove yourself to all the teachers at Abbott, especially Mrs. Howard. You'd hate to lose that respect so soon into the 3rd year.

You fiddled with your messy desk, then you turned while you fixed your clothing, planting a fake smile on towards whoever was there. You stood up, grateful that your door was closed at the kids request.

"Kids, keep working quietly, I'll be right back."

"Ummm…" Came Bella, your most paranoid student's voice from the front group, closest to your desk. You were almost certain she was going to ask for some form of protection against her other classmates when things inevitably got out of hand. 

Another knock came simultaneously. 

You turned your attention to the door for a split moment, then back to Bella.

"Coming," you said to the either very eager or very angry person on the other side. 

Your brain worked to find a solution to your Bella problem quite quickly, "Courtney, you're in charge of keeping Bella safe if I'm not back in ten minutes." 

"Sure, teacher L/n!" Courtney said with her charming yet never all that reassuring smile.You were surprised that she hadn’t at least asked for 5 dollars in exchange for her work; she always did. 

Now questioning if your impulsive request was worth the possible aftermath, you stopped once again to think. Courtney was, in the kindest way possible, a major gamble. And with her track record with Janine for the first part of the year before, you weren't sure if you were willing to risk it. 

Yet another impatient round of thuds came through to your side.  

Whispers came from across the maze of desks. The kids were basically challenging you to leave them to create chaos by themselves.

With no time to think, you sighed- Courtney was your best bet for Bella and the rest of the group was gonna have to protect themselves.

"I'll be right back. Just please. Don't break anything, or anyone." You said, far too desperately considering the authority you had compared to the kids.

Getting a patchy, "Yes, Teacher L/n!" from some of them, you looked at a few of your more mischievous kids, pointing at all of them so they knew not to try anything.

Opening the door, a more filled "Yes, Teacher Y/n." came from your class, satisfying you more than before. A sigh left your system when no loud crashes came from the room seconds after your departure.

"Y/n!" Your best friend said in a winded manner as you got out of your room.

Janine Teagues, in all her glory, smiled widely at you. Realising that it was just Janine and not Barbara brought a smile to your face, until you realised that it was… well, Janine. 

Now your mind raced even more. 

How did you look? Were you smiling too widely? Were you taking too long to answer her?

"Hey, Janine!" You decided to say. You looked at her outfit, one of her warmer dresses, in an orange colour. You couldn't help but love it on her. 

"Wow. You look…" Your eyes scoped her entire body out, all 4 or something feet of it. As you hit just above her head, the dreaded mic and camera appeared just behind her, stopping you from pursuing any further words. 

Appropriate words shuffled through your head, now. You didn't want the camera crew -or whoever watched the footage- to get any ideas. 

Janine frowned slightly "Is the dress really that bad? I really tried hard this time." 

Your heart melted at that, and somehow the cameras weren't so important. 

"No, you look amazing. I mean the dress- The dress looks amazing." 

Your preferred ‘Janine’ expression returned to her face and you avoided any eye contact with the camera. 

Usually you were all for the camera's, having the same excitement for your job experiences as a possibly slightly more chilled version of Jacob. However, Moments like these were the times you couldn't stand them. You couldn't hide your emotions very well to begin with, and they only made it harder. 

Janine must have been in her own world too, because she didn't point out your weird behaviour.

"What do ya need?" You continued, fearing that your gawking was taking up precious minutes of your surprisingly still quiet class. 

"Melissa told me to round up everyone who ordered valentine's decorations from her decorations guy." 

Oh. 

Your head finally found its balance, and you nearly laughed at how disconnected you'd been for the past few days. You almost forgot that Valentine's day was only a month away. 

Embarrassed from the exchange; you nodded, shook the nerves off and continued following Janine to the teachers lounge. 

Janine rambled on your short trip there, something about what her kids were making you presumed. She was in her true element, talking about her kids. 

You, having gotten a lot of the students that she had taught in her and your first year at Abbott this year, could see the impact she had on the kids. It was always good. 

"That's really nice, Janine." You said softly as you arrived at the door.

“Stop encouraging her, Y/n.” you laughed at Ava’s words, looking into the box Janine had somehow gotten while you were in your daze. 

You handed Ava her sugar as you kept looking into Janine’s box. It had basic craft supplies for kids in it, just mostly in red, pink and white. 

Too self conscious to admit your absence of mind, you tried to make out what she’d been talking about. 

“Ava stop. I’m sure the, uh,” your pause and lack of ability to finish the sentence made Ava scoff and leave the room, taking the camera’s with her. 

“Janine, I’m sorry,” you said, ready to admit that you were clueless, “can you tell me everything you just tried to say again. I’ll pay attention this time, I swear.” 

She gave you a concerned but sympathetic smile and continued to tell you about the Valentines that she was going to help her kids make, while you waited for most of the teachers to fade out of the room so you could retrieve your box of things. 

You listened as she somehow changed the conversation to her valentines plans. 

“Do you have any plans?” she asked. 

“Actually I-” 

“-Y/n. Jacob and I have been debating on what you and your class are making.” came Melissa’s voice, prompting you to look up at her and consequently at Jacob who was holding a very large box and inspecting it. 

As if on cue, Ava and her camera crew came back in. You looked at Jacob who looked mortified, and then at the camera that stood in the opposite direction. 

“Look guys, whatever’s in there was the kids' idea. I had no control over it. I let them write the supplies list. Is that not what they wrote down?”

“Oh, they wrote down supplies alright,” Jacob stared blankly into the box.

“Supplies for a homicide,” Melissa added. You looked at her, concerned at how she knew that. 

“How do you-” you started.

“-Don’t ask.” 

Taking the box from Jacob, you looked inside it once, then shut it out of fear that the camera’s would catch what was inside. 

“I’ll throw this out and go shopping tonight.” you decided. 

Spending your own money on supplies was well worth avoiding getting fired for child endangerment. 

You put the box to the side, while Jacob continued to talk about how scary your 4th graders were. 

He was still getting used to the 6th graders that had come in this year, previously your first group of 4th graders at Abbott. For months he had been insistent that your class was cursed somehow. 

You didn’t actually entertain the idea, really. But you enjoyed teaming up with the 6th graders to make his conspiracy more believable. 

As he went on his rant, Janine sat next to you. 

��Huge bummer that you have to go shopping tonight.” 

“Oh it's fine. I was going to go anyway. I had some things to collect for something special.” 

“Ooh,” she nudged you, “Something special. Does that include someone special?” She pried more and you couldn't help but smile at her oblivious statement. 

You were planning something big alright. Something big for her Valentine’s day. After 3 years of pining, you finally felt prepared enough to admit your feelings to Janine soon. Although, technically you weren't very subtle. 

You’d been planning since new years day, 

“It might.” As soon as you said this, you covered Janine's mouth with your hand, preventing a squeal from leaving her lips. 

“Shhh, okay. I don’t want everyone to know.” 

You could barely keep yourself together as she tried to calm herself down. Watching her in her excitable moments was like watching a child. It was fun.

Once you were sure that she was calm, you removed your hand. 

“Who is it, then?” 

“I can't tell you, “ 

"Do I know them?" 

You smiled, "Yeah, you know her." 

She gasped, racking her brain for all the women you both mutually knew.

"Aw, okay. Gave me a clue!" 

"Okay," you said. You decided to just let her figure it out, even if it ruined your surprise. You looked around the room to see who was still around. Surprisingly, you were the last two in there.(besides the filming crew.)

“She’s sweet. And she’s short.” 

“Oh, like me.” she breathed out, not in a knowing way, just acknowledging the similarities. 

“Yeah,” you looked at her, and realised how close you were to each other, “Like you.” 

“She’s the most exciting person to be around. I see her all the time. She makes me laugh, and sometimes when I’m alone, the thought of her makes me cry.” 

“Why?” she gasped. 

“She’s always with someone else. Like, always. She’s only been single for a few months now.”

Janine fell silent, and you were almost certain she’d figured you out. You stared into her eyes and waited. Waited for something to happen. 

“What does she do?” 

Leaning into her direction you whispered, “She’s a teacher.” 

Right before your bodies could make contact with each other, you stood from your chair to reach for something on the table behind her. Your bodies grazed against one another. The skin that touched hers tingling. 

Returning back to your seat, she stood. Giving you a sheepish smile, she walked out of the room slowly. Not saying a word. 

Doing the same, you smiled, happy that you’d just told her how you felt. 

When one of the producers asked you to answer a few questions outside, you weren’t even annoyed. 

“What just happened?” they asked. 

Looking straight at the camera for the first intentional time that day, you smiled. You were still stunned. 

“I think I just told Janine I like her.” you answered confidently. 

Five minutes later, across the building by the second grade classroom, Janine stood. 

Tears threatened to fall at the news you’d just given her. 

“What just happened?” someone behind a camera asked.

Janine looked down, embarrassed at her behaviour. 

“I think Y/n is in love with another woman.” she barely got the words out. A punch to the gut is what that sentence felt like. 

She tried to smile, the tears still freefalling even though she violently wiped them away promptly. 

“It's okay. I’m okay,” she lied, “I’m happy for them. I really am.” 

The surrounding people didn’t  believe her for even a second. They all just felt quite sorry for the woman. 

She cleared her throat, straightening up a bit at the pitied looks. 

“They deserve to be happy.” 

They all stood there not moving as even the cameraman decided to stop recording. Janine was the one person who was always open to talk to them. It made their jobs really easy. He didn’t want her saddest moment completely on tape. He’d probably cut and delete the whole ordeal later on in the day. 

Instead of continuing, he let her get back to class.

ONE MONTH LATER

Valentine’s day at Abbott started out slow. Most of the kids still at home or on their way to school. It was an hour or 2 before the school day started, and you’d been working tirelessly for days, trying to make your big day perfect. 

After your conversation with Janine on that January morning, things had been awkward between the two of you. You were still close and all, but there was some distance that never previously exhibited lingering around the two of you. 

You chopped it up to not knowing where your friendship stood now that you’d basically confessed your love for her on that day. 

Of course, confronting this issue was harder than it looked. The two of you skirted around the matter easily. 

But, after weeks of avoiding it, your day was finally here. You’d successfully planned everything out as much as you could and you were determined to make sure that Janine and yourself could be closer after it was all well and done.

Nonetheless, that hadn’t happened just yet.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Janine.” you said it to her as you passed her classroom. Seeing Jacob behind her you corrected yourself, “Oh and you too Jacob.” 

They politely responded, wishing you the same before you left to tend to your plans. 

“I know that Janine and I have been a bit distant lately,” you said to the camera that followed you, “but I think today might change things.” 

In a silly way, you said it out loud so that the crew could assure you that you were right. They didn’t, obviously. But they did go in a separate direction soon after so you took it as a win. 

Clearly they were just leaving you to get ready. Everything was going to be perfectly fine.

Janine walked into the teacher’s lounge in her usually happy mood, holding the random valentine that she found in her mailbox only minutes after Jacob left her classroom. She was excited for the day, although it hadn’t been the most romantic month since your silent rejection only weeks prior. 

“Hello everyone!” She said cheerfully as she told her faculty of teachers about the valentine, hoping that somebody would confess to having been the alleged ‘secret admirer’.

Even with her heart still recovering from getting her hopes up about you having a crush on her, she still looked around hoping to see your face light up and silently expose yourself as the above mentioned. Her head and heart rarely ever had the same idea, so no matter how she tried to ration with her valid feelings of rejection. Her heart still refused to accept the facts. 

She deflated only momentarily after seeing that you weren’t in the room like usual. 

“Where’s Y/n?” she asked anybody who was possibly still listening. 

“Somewhere preparing a date, I believe.” Gregory said out into the open. He wasn’t aware of your plan in any way, but being that the two of you (Plus Mr. Johnson) were the more punctual staff members, word travelled around over the past week. 

He was merely stating a fact that he knew. 

Janine on the other hand took this as a taunting act of further humiliation in general.(Not because it was Gregory.)

She was still holding out hope for you even after you’d clearly shown that you weren’t interested. 

She let the conversation go on in its natural state. Swiftly moving out of the room, where immediately she had a camera in her face. 

Janine, being someone who enjoyed being around the camera and finding talking to the crew to be quite therapeutic, stood in her usual spot and looked into the main lens. 

“What are your plans for Valentine’s day?” Rob, the man behind the camera, asked her. She’d found out his name in the first few weeks of filming.

“My Valentine's day plans? Well, Mo,” she paused to emphasise Maurice’s name, “is coming by after school with a surprise gift.” She continued. 

She tried her best to put on her regular smile as she talked about him but truly she was a bit uninterested. 

You’d been her first and only really intense crush for years now, and those facts still stood. Although she liked Mo, she felt bad that he wasn’t even a second option. 

There was no denying the chemistry that her and Gregory possessed. It was nothing compared to yours, but it was still better than Mo. 

Unfortunately, the stars didn’t seem to want to align with any of Janine’s love interests. Gregory was with Amber and judging from the lego bouquet, he was really in love with her too. She couldn’t interject with that. 

Besides, Mo seemed like a nice guy, with good intentions. Janine couldn’t not give him a chance. No matter how seemingly incompatible they were. No matter how little Mo knew about her, or what she liked. 

So she went the rest of the day not seeing you, wishing that she’d responded with more in the morning when you passed by her door. Wishing that she’d at least gotten you something, even if you wouldn’t take it as a romantic gesture. 

She smiled as widely as she realistically could when Mo gave her the Telfar bag, wishing that she could at least trade it in for Amber’s lego set. 

As the day concluded, and Janine greeted Gregory and Amber goodbye, she couldn’t help but be disappointed at the way that the day had gone.

“Janine, wait!” you yelled as you turned the corner after seeing her leaving with someone. 

She paused, hearing you so determined to stop her, and for a moment it felt like the day's events were going to change. 

“Yes?” she said almost immediately. 

You got to her, breathless from doing all the work for your surprise while teaching your class. 

As you caught your breath, you looked at the situation you’d landed yourself in. Janine was with Mo, Gregory’s friend. She was holding the most Un-Janine-like bag that must have been a recent gift because you hadn’t seen it before. 

“I-uh,” you started. 

“I was just going to say, happy Valentine’s Day.” you refrained from handing her your gift. 

“Um, okay,” Janine said disappointed once again, “Happy Valentine’s day, Y/n.” 

You hummed some type of response, letting her go and enjoy her night.

Avoiding anyone left in the building, you went to the empty class/storage room that you had spent the whole day setting up in. You took everything down slowly, careful not to be too rough with anything and accidentally break them. 

After packing everything, you walked to your classroom and packed up there, then slowly made your way down the hall of the building. 

When you reached Janine’s classroom, you froze, unwilling to move. 

You took out the box that you’d been too afraid to take out just shy of 2 hours before. 

It held a jewellery set that you thought would finely match her style and her taste. It didn’t come very cheap but you felt like the price didn’t matter if it was for Janine.

Regretting not giving it to her then, you turned and entered her classroom, placing it discreetly on her desk so as not to stir the wandering eyes of the 2nd graders she taught on Monday morning.

After setting it down, you left. Deciding to just call it an early evening and go home.

The halls felt abnormally cold as you left, the warmth that usually encompassed your body no longer existing. It left you frozen both physically and mentally. 

You were frozen on one thought and one thought only; had you made a mistake telling Janine what you told her all those weeks ago? Was she mad at you for liking her? 

Lastly: was your friendship even salvageable?

After Pecsa

“Janine!” you yelled out as you hugged yourself to keep yourself warm as you waited on her doorstep, shivering as you waited for some type of response. 

You’d been struggling to keep warm since days before Valentine’s day, where - although you didn’t know it yet- you had caught some type of flu from one of your kids. 

Besides the occasional visit to pick up some work to do at home, you hadn’t been to Abbott since then. You’d missed Pecsa weekend and you had the most ridiculous doctor's consultation fee to pay in only a few weeks. 

You’d been quite miserable, and all the previous events before you got sick weighed heavy on your mind now that you had barely anything to do but lay in bed. 

You spent hours deconstructing what happened between you and Janine. Looking at every possible angle of how everything went so wrong so quickly. 

The two of you barely spoke about anything besides Janine checking up on you every few hours to make sure you were okay at home. 

Luckily for you, even when she was upset Janine was still your best friend and she cared dearly for you. 

You hoped she felt the same about you. That she thought you still cared. You hoped that she saw your gift on her table on the day after Valentine’s day and realised that it was you, and that you loved her. 

You spent even more time contemplating texting Janine back and telling her that you were the secret gift giver. Just to reassure her of whatever it was that the two of you were was still actively being pursued. You settled on not doing so. It would look too desperate. You thought better than to look desperate. 

However, it was wishful thinking to assume that Janine didn’t see you as desperate now. You were in your very much “home clothes”, having spent the day resting once again. You looked rather unwell for someone who’d been on meds for so long, and you stood at her house, banging on the door for her to open it on a Friday night out of nowhere. 

“Janine!” you said again, making a less noisy attempt at knocking on the door. By the third round of knocking, the door opened, and she stood in complete shock at the figure that you knew looked a complete mess. 

“Y/n I-I,” she stumbled through her words, stopping herself mid-sentence to wave you inside her home. 

You graciously accepted the invitation, walking in before she closed the door. Her house was warm and welcoming, the smell of autumn spices filling your nose and soothing your churning stomach almost instantly. 

It felt good to smell her house again after so long. It had been nearly a month since you were there for your weekly Friday-Sleepover, where you’d stay for the night and help each other set up for the following week of school, while having much needed fun together. 

Though you could blame your illness for the abrupt stop in this almost instinctive routine, there was no denying that it had already become inconsistent weeks before you got sick. 

You’d had a few sleepovers after your ‘confession’ but they were always so much more awkward than the two of you had ever been around each other. 

Standing in this house again- it felt like months since you’d comfortably been there. 

“You’re shivering. Here, wear this.” Janine handed you a blanket to wrap around yourself as she inspected you. She led you to her couch, where you remember nursing her back to health when she got food poisoning.

“Hi,” you said, and chuckled as casually as possible, looking straight ahead while you saw her in your peripheral view, trying to get comfortable. 

You could feel her looking at you directly, her expression of concern not being something you could ignore. 

“Hey.” 

Silence surrounded the little space between the two of you. You- trying to get warmer- and Janine- trying to think of what she could give you to make you feel somewhat better. 

She figured tea was the best she could do, so she got up and went to her kitchen, cutting her usually distracted way of making tea short to get it to you as quickly as possible. 

By the time she’d gotten back, you were already starting to drift off to sleep on her couch, clearly feeling warmer from the blanket. 

Opting to let you rest, she put the tea next to you in case you woke up, and got you another blanket to cover you again. Your straight sitting position looked strange, but not wanting to ruin the moment of peace, she left you that way. 

The week had been all but calm for her, and her mind had been all over the place,from having to check up on you constantly to make sure you were resting and not taking cold and risky trips, much like now. 

Simultaneously, her kiss with Gregory at Pecsa had been all but what she expected. 

Feelings that she was so sure of only days before got completely jumbled up once again and her emotions couldn’t keep up. Her life was feeling a lot more like an all white 1000 piece puzzle, where trying to put any two pieces together and not matching them up perfectly was becoming more and more frustrating. 

Her and Gregory agreed that what happened wasn’t a big deal, and they unspokenly agreed to not speak about it. Regret laced most of her decision to do this as she thought of her love for you, the love that only grew after so long apart. 

She called Mo that same weekend and broke it off with him, mostly because she couldn’t continue to lead him on like she had been. That was probably the least complicated thing she realised about her love life over the week. 

Everything else wasn’t so easy. 

She left you on her couch to get some rest, slightly relieved to know that she didn’t have to worry about you without taking a few steps and peaking to see if you were okay, now. 

She’d previously been watching a show, so she decided to just go into her bedroom and find something to occupy herself instead. 

As quickly as she entered her room, her eyes landed on the gift that she’d avoided since the day after Valentine’s. She found it safely but secretly hidden on her desk and had assumed that one of her students accidentally left it on their desks and Mr Johnson had put it on her desk for safe-keeping. 

She had brought it into the teachers lounge the next day when none of her students claimed it, and asked the man directly. 

“I for one have never seen that before, but it's definitely for you.” he smiled not so convincingly and Janine questioned his words, only to turn the gift bag around to see her name plastered on the other side, not easy to miss. 

She took it home that day, but had refused to open it until the week before Pecsa. 

There, she found a set that consisted of a beautiful set of gold jewellery; a bracelet that fit perfectly into her growing set of bracelets, some earrings, and most importantly- a necklace with her name carefully engraved in it. The font was of a familiar handwriting, one that Janine was sure was yours, but considering how things were, she immediately put it all back and pretended she didn’t get anything. She didn’t want to be wrong about the identity of the gift giver and felt like she was becoming too attached to her broken heart, masking her hurt by associating everything around her with you. 

When Jacob asked her what she got the next day, she made up some lie about some really nice chocolates that she had as a treat the night before. When he didn’t ask any further questions, she went on, and tried to erase every other memory of Valentine's Day. 

Her date with Maurice went quite terribly after the Telfar bag incident, and Janine could already feel herself getting over the ingenuine talking stage with him. She kept nothing but what she thought was your gift, even giving away the Telfar bag. 

Now ,she went and opened the gift again, looking more deeply into the jewellery. After inspecting every piece, she would put it on, happy to accessorise even in the late evening.  

When it came to analysing the bracelet, she took a really long run through of it. As much as the doubt crept in, she couldn’t deny that she couldn’t convince herself that anyone but you could have thought of it. 

She slowly moved her hair away and put it on, going to her mirror to see her reflection. She was in awe at how good it felt to wear the gift. She couldn’t help but smile, not sure if it was even because of the necklace- or if it was the idea of you giving it to her. 

As she sat on that thought, there was no denying it, she was in love. 

Additionally, something about being in love with a good person made it all so surreal. 

“Janine.” you whispered when you woke up from the unintentional slumber. 

“Hey, sleepyhead.” her voice came from behind you. 

You smiled, feeling a lot less tense than when you had arrived. You weren’t as cold either. You looked at her as she came to the couch, with a cup in her hand. 

“I made you some tea when you got here but it got cold when you fell asleep, so I- I made you another one.” 

You graciously took it, and scooted to the left to give her space to sit next to you. She did just that, sitting in a position that faced you, before placing her hand on your head. Satisfied at the temperature she must have felt, she placed her hand down, and let it fall to sit behind you. 

You turned to face her; the steam from the mug coming up to your face, making it more moist than it was. 

You took her presence in more intentionally now, taking note of the dress she chose to wear, and which side she chose to part her hair today. 

As you let your eyes roam, they landed on her neck; more specifically the accessory she wore. 

Your lips parted in a surprised question that never came to be verbalised. 

Janine watched you make this discovery, and she too searched for words to answer the many questions that roamed in her mind all day. 

“I’m glad you finally got my gift.” you decided to say, and the sigh that left Janine brought an even wider smile to your face. 

“I thought it was you,” she started, fiddling with what you now saw was the bracelet you bought her. Looking closely now, you realised that she was wearing the entire set. 

“You don’t have to wear them all at once, you know.” you kind of laughed, finding yourself quite amusing in your still drowsy state. 

“I know. I was just testing them all out for the first time. I’ve been avoiding them since I found them after…” 

“After Valentine’s Day.” you pushed. You were a lot more casual about it, only slightly starting to feel comfortable talking to Janine about the entire beginning of the year’s events. She seemed to confirm your words, avoiding your gaze for a while. 

“Y/n, I need to tell you something,” She said, waiting for your go-ahead. You nodded, prompting her to continue. 

“Gregory and I kissed at Pecsa Weekend.” 

Your heart shattered at the words. Were you shocked? No. You saw the chemistry between the two just as much as the next person, but you’d hoped that you still had a chance. You were certain that what you had with her was so much more special. 

“Oh,” you let out a breath. 

“I’m happy for you?” you begged the question to yourself though you said it out loud. Were you really happy for her? Who knew.

You took the last sip of your tea, having been sipping it slowly for the past 10 minutes that you’d been sitting there with Janine. 

You attempted to get up, wanting desperately to remove yourself from her line of vision, so you could kick yourself in the back and scream. You’d waited too long now. 

She stopped you, “ Y/n. It was a mistake. I was so confused.” 

You sat back down, although nothing indicated that this was going to be a conversation that turned out to be in your favour. 

“After Valentine’s, I was sure you’d probably had a great day with your crush after hearing everyone talk about what you had planned for her.

I was in such denial of my true feelings about it all. Gregory seemed like the least heartbreaking potential and after the weekend we’d both had, it kind of just happened.It didn’t mean anything” 

She took the mug from you, putting it on her table and taking your hands. You let her- not sure what to do at that point. 

Only after about a minute did her words set in. 

“Janine, I set up a valentine’s surprise for you.” 

“What?” 

“It was for you, Janine. You’ve been the one I’ve had a crush on this whole time. There was never anyone else.” 

She let go of your hands slowly, clasping hers together to let herself think. Time passed and not a word came out of the both of you. 

“Huh,” she let out, “ well, now I feel really dumb.” 

“You’re not dumb.” you took her hands back in your, looking into the brown eyes that entranced you for 3 cycles around the sun. 

“Gosh, I’m so sorry Y/n. I got so caught up trying to avoid your rejection, I didn't stop to think about you. You must have felt awful that day.” 

“Kinda,” you said, trying to protect her from feeling too bad.

“I’m sorry.” she repeated. 

“Don’t apologise,” you started, “I don’t know what's going to happen but don’t apologise.

I get it, complicated feelings were on the rise.” 

All she did was nod at that, looking at you with such an intense feeling of guilt, it scared you. 

“Come here.” you said to her, taking her into your embrace.

The two of you melted into each other and Janine let out a few tears as you weren’t turned to see her. She laid her head on your shoulder- wanting not to put too much weight on your still weak body but also not being able to help herself. 

You didn’t notice the extra weight of her head weighing on you, your only concern being that she stopped feeling guilty. 

“I love you, Janine.” you whispered, tracing circles on her back to soothe her sorrow away. 

“You’re the only one I want and need in this world, and I love you.” 

Waiting for a response was excruciating. Regrets poked through as you anticipated the inevitable. That the kiss between her and Gregory did mean something after all. 

Your long days of longing would be over if she didn’t mean what you thought she did, and she really didn;t feel the same way. 

“I-” you waited for the punch to hit, your eyes shut in anticipation. 

“I love you too. More than you could imagine.” 

And with those closing words, Janine lifted her head, wiped her tears away, and led you into the most worth-the-wait kiss you’d ever experienced. 

Authors Note: My first Abbott Elementary Fic! I must say I'm fairly proud of what I ended up with considering the hectic writer's block I've been experiencing this month. Also my first Gender Neutral reader so if there are any mistakes in that regard, please bare with me. Still getting used to that. I really hope you enjoyed!