Although I have written for other characters, I have decided to write for Charlie Hunnam's and Jake Gyllenhaal characters only.
Charlie Hunnam: Jackson Teller, Arthur Pendragon, Raymond Smith, Percy Fawcett, Henri "Papillon" Charrière, William “Ironhead” Miller, Bob Frey Jr., Kai, Stanley Kaminski
Jake Gyllenhaal: John Kinley, Danny Sharp, David Loki, Quentin Beck, Anthony Swofford, Brian Taylor, Lou Bloom, Tommy Cahill, Elwood Dalton, Rusty Sabich
If you read something you like, PLEASE REBLOG. Sharing is caring, my dudes. Help me help you 💕
If any of the links do not work, please let me know so I can fix them as soon as possible. Here’s my list in alphabetical order ( * means smut is mentioned) Enjoy!😉
B O Y D H O L B R O O K
Amos Jenkins
- little distractions series: part one / two
Jackson Teller
- patch-ups at 2
- untitled *
- black-leathered prince
Raymond Smith
- in sickness and in health
- please and thank you *
William "Ironhead" Miller
- drowned
- the getaway
- aftermath
- birthday bliss *
- forever home
- feral love *
J A K E G Y L L E N H A A L
Anthony Clarie/Adam Bell
- karma's kiss - one / two
Anthony Swofford
series - 1: the set up / 2: the letter* / 3: the road trip*
Billy Hope
- fists of fury
Brian Taylor
- rainy day in
Danny Sharp
- danny, the devil *(dark themes)
David Loki
- sfw alphabet
- forgiven
- the dinner party *
- dinner date
- cat-n-mouse
- beyond the badge series: one / two / three / four / five *
- just need you *
- to the moon
- (his) birthday girl
Elwood Dalton
- hero's homestead
Louis Bloom
angel series (dark themes)*: one / two / three
John Kinley
- untitled
- take it all *
- home again *
Quentin Beck
- the conception *(dark themes)
Rusty Sabich
- belong to no one else *
- primetime *
Tommy Cahill
- love in disguise *
- from cramps to comfort
J O N B E R N T H A L
Frank Castle
- old flame
- untitled *
- vindicated *
Shane Walsh
- saving shane *
- untitled *
P E D R O P A S C A L
Javier Pena
- heat wave *
T O M H A R D Y
Alfie Solomons
- my kitchen, my rules
- faults of the father
- gentle giant
- in the dark series: prelude(ish) / part one / two
- untitled
- first time for everything
- sweet stranger series: part one / two
James Delaney
- velvet dreams *
Reggie Kray
- midnight lovers *
Tommy Conlon
- surprise, surprise
- quiet now
- 2 o'clock stubble
V I K I N G S
Bjorn Ragnarsson
- bjorn’s new wife *
Hvitserk Ragnarsson
- to the rescue(s)
- the funeral series: part one / two *
Ivar Ragnarsson
- romantically series: part one / two *
- playing dead
Ragnar Lothbrok
- freed series : part one / two
Sigurd Ragnarsson
- in solitude *
Ubbe Ragnarsson
- poor little omega * (A/B/O)
- learn to listen
Sleepy...so sleepy, so I won't be getting any writing done tonight. However, I did decide that I am (very likely) going to work on Chapter 3 of The New Normal next, and I've organized my outline...which is right at 1,200 words, so at least I have a good idea of what I'll be writing.
Managed to get a start on it last night - only about 800-ish words, but a start. You've heard of porn with plot, and porn without plot. How about porn AND THEN plot 💙🔪💙
Protect Me From What I Want - Cooper Abbott x Fem OC *NSFW*
This is the fulfillment of an ask from @simplyhale , back at the end of October, that I am finally getting around to. I won't disclose the content of the ask as it is basically a little spoiler, but it has to do with certain actions in a very specific structural location. If it isn't clear by context, the italicized blocks of story are in the past, the standard blocks of story are in the present.
Honestly, this started out pretty plotless, just an excuse for some horniness...and then suddenly it was over 9,700 words long...I swear, I have no concept of brevity. Gif is mine, as always.
Rated for sexual content, including willful infidelity on Cooper's part. No kink warnings apply ( NO Daddy Kink, NO Breeding Kink, NO Degradation Kink )
My Josh Hartnett Characters Masterlist
(( word count : ~ 9,700 ))
"Who are we hiding from?" Cooper asked over the shoulder of the young woman before him, leaning against the wall and peering around a slightly protruding pillar, to the crowd beyond it. Her shoulders jumped up practically to her ears in surprise at the sudden, close voice, and she swerved around on her boots to look to the source, behind her.
“Holy sh-...Mr. Abbott!” she stammered as she gazed up his tall form, instantly recognizing him, and his very familiar face. “You scared the sh-...hell...out of me...What are you doing here?”
The enormous crowd of people, crossing back and forth beyond them in both directions, was aggressively loud and boisterous, and Cooper had to lean in to assure he was heard. “I keep telling you, you can just call me Cooper,” he insisted, glancing down the huge, rounded hall she'd been staring down. “I'm here for the game. Why are you here?” he inquired, and she peered around the wall again, and leaned back once more, tugging at the hem of her clingy dress.
“My friend set me up on a blind date to double with her, and her boyfriend...and I'm starting to question our friendship,” she explained as she backed further into the corner, Cooper not even a foot from her, and showing no intention of putting more space between the two of them.
“That bad?” the forty-something-year-old husband and father of two questioned, and she nodded emphatically.
“Thirty five years old, and he acts like he never left the fraternity,” she huffed, leaning against the chilled concrete surface. “Honestly, I...I think I might just get an Uber out of here,” she continued, sighing as she stared up at the looming man before her.
“And miss the game?” he piped up, shoving his hands in his pockets as he considered her, nearly a foot shorter than himself, even in her combat boots, fidgeting with the hem of her form-fitting sweater dress that ended half-way up her thighs.
“Truthfully...the scope of my hockey knowledge doesn't really extend past the Mighty Ducks movies,” she admitted, a quirked smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she stood, unseemly close to him, catching the scent of his spicy cologne, despite the prevalent odor of fried food and beer that wafted along with the people who strode by. “Who, um...who are you here with?” she suddenly inquired.
“Me?” he asked, watching her studiously as she continued to fidget with her unseasonably short dress. “Just some guys from the fire house,” he explained, his eyes focused on her even as she glanced away, toward a noisy outburst near a burger stand along the rounded wall opposite the two of them. “No one that's gonna miss me,” he clarified, and she glanced back his way, to the umber eyes that watched her, unwavering.
At the sudden buzzing of her phone in her clutched purse, she shifted to investigate as Cooper leaned to one side to glance down the hall, searching for the group she'd been hiding from. “I'm sure that's not true,” she finally answered as she began tapping on her screen, returning a text from her friend that stood, not even a hundred feet away. “I, uh...I think I'm gonna go,” she sighed, putting her phone away again, and adjusting the hem of her dress once more.
“With him?” Cooper asked, and she looked back up to his eyes, unreadable.
“With...no, I...I mean, I'm gonna get out of here,” she corrected, though her body leaned back into the corner, once more. “Not much point in sticking around-”
“No, you can't...you can't let some jackass ruin your night,” he cut in before she could finish.
“Well, what do you suggest?” she sighed, watching the older, taller, broader man as his shoulder visibly twitched. “You got an extra seat over-”
“No, I, uh...you know, I don't really care much about hockey, myself...how about, uh...what do you say to going on a little adventure? With me?”
🔪
“Whose class are you looking for?” Cooper had asked before she'd even noticed him, sidling up beside an unfamiliar young woman in a hallway of the school his daughter attended.
She looked slightly startled at the sudden voice at her side, and glanced up at the stranger, and back at the board on the wall before her. “Um...Miller?” she stated, unsure of herself, as she checked her phone to confirm.
“Ah. She's on the second floor, on the west end,” he spoke up, and she glanced to another section of the board for confirmation. “My daughter had her last year for history.”
“Oh...Okay, thanks,” she answered, glancing around for the nearest staircase that would lead her to the next floor.
“I can take you, if you want,” he spoke up, and she looked back up at him, brows knit together as she stared. “To the classroom, I mean. I've got...twenty minutes to kill,” he explained, glancing at his watch. When she continued to stare at him, silently, he glanced around before offering his hand. “Cooper,” he volunteered, and she finally nodded, accepting his hand and giving it a light shake.
“Veronica.”
Their trek through the halls, and up the stairs, was mostly silent as the young woman occasionally glanced over at her guide. As he felt the awkwardness building, Cooper finally attempted conversation. “You look a little young to have a sixth grader,” he finally mentioned, and she glanced his way, smiling faintly and shaking her head.
“No, she's not my kid. She's my niece,” Veronica explained, and Cooper nodded. “Her dad's not in the picture, and my sister works unpredictable hours, so...I got volunteered.”
Cooper nodded as he pressed his hands into his pockets, his footsteps slowing as the classroom door came into view, still closed as the room was occupied by another parent, being subjected to a conference. “Well, it's a pretty good school...do you have kids, or-”
She shook her head immediately, and Cooper paused. “No, that's not the life for me,” she confirmed, and Cooper raised a brow.
“You don't like kids?”
“No, that's not...I just...it's not the kids, so much as the responsibility of being a mother,” she explained, and Cooper nodded, though his expression conveyed an element of confusion. “I just, uh...I had a mom that kind of, uh...made a habit out of failing me...in a lot of ways, and I just...I wouldn't want to be the cause of a kid's trauma, or the one that didn't protect them, or...whatever,” she stammered out, pursing her lips as she glanced around for some miracle escape from the conversation she'd found herself in. “Sorry, that was kind of a lot. I-”
“No, it's...it's okay. I get that,” he nodded, suddenly grateful that it had been almost a week since he'd hallucinated his own abusive mother. As he began to reach a hand out, his phone suddenly began to buzz, and he dragged it out of his pocket to find a notification on the screen, a stylized sheep's face on display. “Well, I should go, before I'm late. It was nice to meet you,” he declared, reaching his hand out once more, the young woman accepting it with noticeably less caution.
🔪
“Look, I'll pay you back for the ticket, but I am not going to spend the next three hours-” Veronica spoke into her phone as she walked alongside Cooper, traveling in the opposite direction of the woman on the other side of the call. “...Of course it's gonna be that bad...Becca, it's not happening!” She huffed, disconnecting the call and shoving her phone into her purse.
Cooper glanced her way every few seconds, watching as she wrapped her arms around herself defensively, staring into the crowd at no one in particular. “I think you were right,” he suggested, suddenly, and her gaze darted up his generous height.
“About what?” she mumbled, and he leaned in closer so as not to shout through the noises of the crowd.
“About her not being a real friend,” he explained, close enough for her to feel his warm breath on her skin, surprisingly minty.
“I didn't say-”
“You said you were questioning your friendship...I don't know. I just can't help feeling like...if she was really your friend, she wouldn't try to sell you out to some guy you're clearly not interested in,” he continued, and her eyes shifted his way as she felt his fingertips on her skin, brushing loose strands of hair behind her ear. Before she could form a response, and give more than a few seconds of thought to the last time she'd felt his hands on her, the phone in her bag began to buzz again.
Slumping her shoulders, Cooper drawing his hand away, she held the phone to her ear again.
“This is about that married guy, isn't it?!” her friend spoke so loudly against the crowd that it managed to reach Cooper's ears, though he displayed no evidence he'd heard anything.
“Please just go watch the game,” she insisted, but the woman on the other side of the call refused to budge.
“It is, isn't it?! You're so ridiculous, I swear. You're never gonna get over him if you don't get under someone else-” Not another word made it out of the speaker as Veronica ended the call again, proceeding to hold down the power button until the whole device began to shut down. Cooper was silent for several heavy seconds, the two of them continuing to stroll along the rounded wall, out of the way of the bustling crowd.
“Do you still wanna go?” he suddenly asked, shoving one hand in a pocket and pulling out his own phone. He wasn't exactly thrilled by the idea of letting her go, and spending the evening with a bunch of firemen, watching a hockey puck fly across the rink, but it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to order her an Uber and gain access to her address in the process-
“No, I...um,” she started and paused, glancing toward the large hand closest to hers, still empty, as if she were waiting for it to grasp her own. “I'll stay...for a little while, at least,” she ventured, and Cooper, following her gaze, took hold of her smaller hand, winding his large digits through her slender fingers. She tried not to think about the wedding ring that she suddenly found pressed against her skin.
🔪
As strangely uncomfortable as their first interaction had been, curiosity got the best of Veronica, and she began to make a habit of volunteering for school functions, especially the evening events, in hopes of running into Cooper again. Her goal was met about a month after their chance introduction, and continued to conveniently occur on every such occasion that followed.
Simply standing about in each other's vicinity led to aimless walks down empty school hallways, light touches that could just as easily be dismissed or pondered upon, depending on the night and her mood. She'd volunteer her nights away for the chance to walk long, empty halls with him, and sit at the tops of staircases between floors, talking about nothing of particular importance, just enjoying the proximity. The last PTA meeting of the school year, however, had snapped her out of her delusion – at least for the time being – when she had stepped through a pair of double doors from the evening air, only to find Cooper's back to her, several feet away, standing beside a woman of similar age with a pale blonde bob, wearing a teacher-esque ensemble. It was the first evening they'd shared a room since they'd met that she'd actively made efforts to leave as soon as she could manage. Cooper had not missed this fact, but he hadn't been fool enough to say a word to her, either.
The school year had nearly started back up by the time they crossed paths again...
Even from halfway down the produce aisle of the grocery store, Veronica recognized his tall form, broad shouldered and topped with a mess of brown hair in need of a trim. Beside him, she immediately noticed, stood his wife. Trying her best not to stare, and deciding that those raspberries she'd been considering would likely spoil before she got around to eating them anyway, she swiveled about and disappeared from the end of the aisle just as Cooper's eyes glanced up from the block of cheese in his hand, and the distant rambling of Rachel's voice, standing no more than a few steps away from the source.
Escaping his vision as quickly as she could manage, Veronica finally found herself in an aisle full of hair care products, resolving to gather only the absolute necessities and leave the store before another awkward moment had a chance to materialize. She was foolish to think she could escape him so easily.
“Not even a 'Hello'?” she heard from behind as her gaze focused on nothing in particular, and her shoulders leapt up at the sudden voice at her back.
“Oh my g-...Ugh, don't do that,” she whispered, looking beyond him, down the aisle he'd emerged from, searching for other members of the Abbott household, and finding not a soul, her eyes darting back up to his. “I hate when you sneak up on me like that,” she continued, shifting her gaze back to an array of plastic bottles.
“Maybe you're just not observant enough,” he suggested, stepping closer as he carefully grasped her shoulders from behind, catching the soft floral scent of her shampoo.
“I observed your wife, shopping with you,” Veronica mumbled, and Cooper's grasp on her shoulders tightened a fraction. “And I think you should grab what you need, and get back to her,” she added, shifting to glance past the large hand that gripped her, to the umber eyes that felt like they were staring right through her. Before she could slip his grasp, he shifted of his own accord, and one of his hands found her chin and tilted it up to steal the kiss she would have given freely, that would be the first of many.
🔪
“You sure you don't want anything?” Cooper pressed as he walked the seemingly endless, circular corridor, Veronica's hand clutched in his own, more or less free to stride along without the risk of gossiping parents and school staff. Though this hadn't exactly been on either of their agendas for the night, neither was anything close to disappointed, though they were also hesitant to refer to it as what it was obviously shaping up to be : a date.
“I'm not really hungry,” Veronica insisted, her stomach a bit unsettled thanks to her provoked nerves. It didn't feel quite real to just walk hand in hand with the man at her side, especially after switching sides so she didn't have to feel his wedding ring. She didn't need any more reminders of how incredibly inappropriate the whole unspoken situation between them had become.
“Come on, they've got everything,” he persisted, glancing along the practically endless supply of vendors. “Drinks, candy...Flyers' merch...” Cooper continued, catching sight of one of a dozen souvenir stands, full of black and orange shirts, jackets, pucks and more, all marked with the logo of the city's official hockey team. Abandoning her hand to dig out his wallet, he flipped through the cash notes inside, and glanced back toward the merchandise table. “I've got...seventy-six dollars burning a hole in my wallet,” he confirmed, the adulterer and his hesitant date at a pause in the hallway as strangers stepped around them.
Because cash doesn't leave a paper trail, Veronica mentally deduced as she glanced toward the stand. “I kinda like that gray, long-sleeve-” Cooper began, but the young woman at his side abruptly spoke up.
“You really think that's a good idea?” she suddenly queried, and his brows knit together as he considered her. “Walking around, advertising our...whatever this is,” her voice faded away as she finished her thought aloud, and Cooper's shoulder twitched visibly, uncomfortably, in silent reply. I should have just got a damn Uber-
“I know this isn't...ideal,” he finally spoke up, and her gaze that had been focused on some invisible spot on the ground drifted back up to his eyes. “I didn't plan for this-”
“Tonight, or-”
“Any of this,” he insisted. “But...I also can't pretend I didn't get a little jealous...seeing you here, on a date with someone else-”
“That's not fair-”
“I know it's not...but that doesn't make it any less true,” he concluded, pressing the wallet he realized he was still holding back into his pocket, and reaching for her hand again.
“I guess...” she began, and he cocked his head to one side, expecting push-back to his selfishness, but his brows rose up in surprise and relief when she continued. “I guess I could make room for a plush 'Gritty' in my life,” she confessed, staring past the crowd of people to the stuffed, miniature, orange mascots.
🔪
As the school year started back up, Veronica and Cooper suddenly became far more present in each other's lives again, exclusively on the school premises. For Veronica, the accompaniment of so many others with ties to the community helped in convincing herself that nothing too inappropriate would take place between them. Cooper, on the other hand, knew he could suggest just about any venue and she would show up, wrapped as she was around his finger, but the possibility of her discovering his other secrets kept him content with the school grounds as a location for their interactions.
The second Thursday evening of September, they found themselves in just such a meeting.
Cooper's hand had darted toward hers as soon as they'd left the prying eyes of the teachers and parents, disappearing down an infrequently used hallway. As soon as they rounded a secured corner, Veronica found her back against a chilled wall, Cooper's hands cupping the sides of her face as he closed the distance between them.
“Cooper, slow-” she began to whisper, but the large hands along her cheeks nudged her chin higher, his mouth practically latching on to the side of her throat, suckling her skin as his free hand weaved into her hair. “We should...we can't...,” she whimpered out, her breaths shallow as he carefully extracted every ounce of resistance she could muster. Nothing beyond kissing and light touching had happened in the months since they'd entered each other's lives, but the temptation to take things further, to let him put his hands and anything else anywhere he damn well pleased...
Her guilt over their infidelity clung to the last strand of her morality for dear life, but that thread frayed just a little more with every glance, every word, every featherlight graze of his digits against her. And his breath was hot on her throat, his hips pressed against her through their jeans, and the layers of fabric between them could not obscure the rigidness of his cock that had not been touched by anyone but himself in months. “This is...fuck, this is such a bad idea,” Veronica whispered, even as her hands gripped his shoulders, his powerful arms, weaving between his jacket and the PFD-branded t-shirt, issued to him by the fire department that paid him to protect the innocent.
“Do you wanna stop?” he rasped against her ear, his hands winding around her waist, dipping into the pockets of her jeans, dragging her body even closer.
“I should...we should-”
“I didn't ask what we should do,” he huffed as he held her body in place and ground against her, slender fingers gripping him tighter, but certainly not making any effort to push him away. “I asked what you wanted.”
“I don't know-”
“Do you want me?” he interrupted, drawing away enough to stare into her eyes as he loomed over her. She couldn't manage much more than a nod in the affirmative as he held her full attention, his fingers beginning to ghost over her again. “Do you want my hands on you?” he huffed, and she nodded as his fingers pushed past the hem of her shirt, making contact with her flushed skin beneath. “And my cock?” he continued, and she nodded with dwindling resistance. “You want me to fuck you?” he persisted, his hands shifting goals, traveling down her back and wedging themselves between her tight layer of denim and the easily torn panties that clung to her ass.
It was the sound of distant voices that pulled Veronica out of the haze of Cooper's attentions. “I do,” she whispered, even as she tried to slide out from against the wall, “but I think there are safer venues than this.” Leaning past the corner, and glancing down the hall, Cooper was relieved to find no owners to the voices, but he let her put a bit of distance between them, regardless.
“I know a place,” he mumbled, and her eyes found his, immediately. “It's not what you're thinking, I haven't...I haven't fooled around in a school since...well, since I was in school. And I haven't been with anyone but Rachel since she and I started dating.” Cooper had aimed to soothe her trepidation, but it was clear from the arms she started to wrap around herself in subconscious self-defense, that he had fumbled. “I just...I want you to understand that I haven't felt like this in a long time-”
“Like what?” she piped up suddenly, and Cooper's brows drew together in observance of her. “How...how do I make you feel? How do you...how do you feel about me?” she pressed, and Cooper felt her slipping through his fingers, physically and metaphorically. He hadn't had such angsty words directed his way in decades. “Because I haven't exactly done this before, either, and I know you aren't gonna leave-” Glistening beads had started to form at the corners of her eyes by the time he interrupted her, his mouth forming perfectly against her lips that had began to pull into a frown she tried desperately to stave off.
“Let's not think about that. It's a problem for another day,” he insisted, his arms encircling her, his body and hers beginning to sway to the total lack of music in the air, his fingers splayed against the small of her back. “Unless you've had enough of me,” he whispered, and she lifted her cheek from his chest to gaze up at him, lips slightly parted as she released a nervous breath. “Should we find somewhere more private?” he hedged, and to his relief, she nodded, her eyes focused on his. “Do you know where the supply room is?” he asked, and she shook her head. Why would she? “Okay, go up to the third floor...” he gave clear directions and watched her until she was out of site, while he made a detour for the nurse's office, fiddling with the lock until the door gave way, and collecting a bandage for the hickey he'd left on her throat, and a condom.
By the time he'd made it up to the supply room he'd directed her toward, Veronica had managed to rid herself of the skin-tight jeans, and her high-tops, and she sat in her tank top, socks, and underthings, on the edge of a built-in counter. When was the last time he'd walked in on someone waiting for him like this, eager for him? Sure, it had been months since he and Rachel had shared anything close to a sexual encounter, but even before that, before he'd abandoned his safe-house on Brewster, before he'd taken notice of the young woman across the room from him, sex with his wife had been bland, passionless, and sporadic at best. Leaning out into the hall once more to check that they hadn't been followed, Cooper closed the door again, and made sure to lock it before turning back around to his guest.
“You're sure about this?” he queried, his shoulders shrugging as he began to slip off his jacket, his feet carrying him across the room to where she sat, anxious and aching and watching him ceaselessly.
“I'm sure,” she mumbled and nodded, her eyes following his hands as he began to lift his shirt, his torso perhaps not as taut and defined as some of the younger firemen, but decorated satisfyingly with strong muscle beneath the skin. Her fingers gripped his shoulders as he stepped between her parted thighs, running his large hands along them, sighing as he felt the heat of her soft flesh beneath his fingertips. Many a night had passed since the fateful evening they'd met, that he found himself the only wakeful person in his bed, thinking about those soft thighs that he longed to drag apart, and indulge however he wished. As she sat before him, he watched the space that separated them shrink as Veronica urged him closer, and felt his neglected bulge through the denim he still wore. “I don't suppose you happen to have, uh...protection?” she suddenly asked, and he raised his brows and dropped one of his hands from her body to pull a packet out of his pocket.
“Snagged one from the nurse's office,” he clarified when her look of surprise began to shift into something suspicious. “I hope I wasn't presuming too much-”
“No, it's not th-” she began to explain, but her voice was cut off swiftly by his mouth, his hand dropping the packet onto the counter she sat on, and drawing her open thighs closer, her legs wrapping around him eagerly, the heat that emanated from her scorching him where a scrap of lace served as the only barrier between them. “Cooper?” she questioned as she felt him part from her, drag her down off the counter, and press his chest to her back as he guided her to face away from him.
“Do you still want me to fuck you?” he rasped as he felt hands that didn't belong to him fidgeting with the buckle of his belt, one of his own hands catching her wrists just as she managed to unbutton his jeans. When she spoke not a word, and leaned her head back against him as soon as he moved in closer, he began to guide her to lean against the counter, wrists still held in his hand, his grip gentle but secure. “Tell me what you want,” he breathed, as he traced her bare thigh with the fingertips of his unbusied hand.
“I want you,” she insisted, shifting her feet further apart, her wrists going limp in his hand, pliant and needy, becoming restless. “I want...whatever you want...as long as you're touching me...as long as some part of you is touching me,” she insisted, and his grip on her wrist dissolved, both his hands on her thighs as she tried desperately to get his jeans down his hips from the inconvenient angle. “I just wanna feel you,” she whimpered as his hands left her, and seconds later, there was again nothing but lace separating them, Veronica trying to part her legs even more, chest flattened against the smooth surface she splayed out across. An appreciative gasp left her as she tipped her hips up higher, felt the tip of his finger as he dragged the juncture of her panties to the side, and both froze at the buzzing that began to rattle his phone from the confines of Cooper's jeans pocket, closer to his ankles than his hips.
A groan, and a disappointed sigh, met the air as Cooper put more than physical distance between himself and the lovely, willing creature before him, extracting his phone to find multiple notifications : a ten minute old text, a stylized sheep head with no accompanying words, and a missed call from his wife. By the time he'd returned the text that overrode the need to return the call, Veronica was already dragging her jeans back up her legs.
“Veronica,” Cooper spoke up as she stepped around him, searching about for her canvas shoes and flopping unceremoniously down on the floor to drag them back on her feet. “You don't have to-”
“No, I do,” she interjected before she could lose her nerve. “This was a mistake...I think you should go home to your-”
“Is that what you really want?” Cooper suddenly cut in, and she remained silent for several seconds before picking out her words, carefully.
“It isn't...but you're not mine to want...I was an idiot to think any different,” any strength left in her voice fell away into a mumble as her words began to dry up, as she stepped nearer to the door he'd locked, Cooper watching her silently, taking not a single step to prevent her from disappearing. “I think you should go home to your wife, Mister Abbott.”
🔪
“Thank you,” Veronica mumbled as she walked beside the married man she'd spent the evening with, clutching his arm through the sleeve of his jacket, Cooper hanging on to the fluffy team mascot plush he'd purchased for her. “For tonight, I mean...for saving me from a terrible date.” Passing by every souvenir shop and food stand the arena had to offer, half a dozen times at least, the pair eventually found themselves in the near-silence of the parking garage, a solid hour of the game still left to play out. To the relief of both of them, they had not come across even a single person the entire trek of concrete levels to Cooper's vehicle, and as they drew near, they found it glossy and meticulously cleansed of dirt and debris.
“I'm sure we can find a way for you to make it up to me,” Cooper answered as he slipped his arm out of her grasp, and wrapped it around her shoulders instead. When he peered down at her, and found her staring back with uncertain eyes, he immediately put on a fake, reassuring smile. “Kidding...I had a really good time, tonight,” he redirected, watching her eyes for a response that might not reach her lips. “It's nice not having to worry about who might see us,” he added, and she nodded subtly. “Not having to...sneak off and-”
“Cooper, we...still kinda managed to do that,” she noted, turning about to look over the concrete structure, full of unoccupied vehicles, pucks still sliding against the slick ice inside the arena. “In case you hadn't notice.”
“I noticed,” he confirmed as they finally reached his car, or rather, his minivan. “It's nice to walk freely in a crowd, but...I can't pretend that I don't prefer keeping you to myself.”
“Me, too,” she quietly confessed, glancing around again, confirming that they were still alone, trying not to dwell on his choice of words. “What a...weird coincidence tonight, I guess,” she continued.
It had struck him as odd that such a desirable opportunity would just fall into his lap, as if he were being rewarded. Every time he'd seen her, it had felt like a reward, but to have her all alone and unprotected by the rest of the world, crowds of acquaintances and strangers alike, it felt like an opportunity he'd stolen.
“And, um...thank you for the ride, too,” she mumbled as she placed a palm on what she gathered was his vehicle.
“Well, I couldn't just let you leave in some stranger's car,” he answered, pulling out his keys and starting up the engine with a button on the remote. “You never really know who's backseat you're getting in to,” he continued, leaning against the driver's side of his trusty Kia.
“Well, that is an impressive amount of backseat,” Veronica noted as she rested her weight against the minivan as well, observing the spacious seating through the window. “You're sure you don't wanna stick around and catch the rest of the game? I feel a little bad I kept you from it-”
“You didn't keep me from anything I wouldn't happily miss,” he insisted, his back against the driver's seat window, as the young woman beside him visually inspected the interior through the tinted glass. “Although,” he continued, and she glanced his way, “I wouldn't mind hanging around a little longer...I'm not in a hurry to say goodbye.” When she remained quiet, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth like she was trying to bite back a response, and looked away again, Cooper added, “Are you?”
Veronica remained silent for several seconds, staring through the darkened window in front of her, before she finally spoke up again. “I'm not...but I...” She trailed off again as she tilted her head to look his way, only to let out an audible breath as she turned away again.
“What can I do?” Cooper asked suddenly, earnestly, and she glanced up at him once more, her brows drawn together in confusion. “To make you more comfortable, I mean?” When she shrugged, and turned even more obviously away from him, a frustrated sigh escaped him. “Veronica, you know I...I didn't plan for any of this. I didn't plan to meet you, or like you...or miss you, or...feel...the way I do,” he finally articulated, reaching out a hand to trail his fingertips down the nape of her neck, and she swiveled slowly back around, her eyes shinier in the floodlights of the parking garage, moisture beading up at the corners.
“How...how do you feel? You never really told me before, you just...tried to distract me with sex,” she recalled aloud as she shrugged her shoulders, thinking back to the evening they'd nearly consummated their affair, in the supply room of the middle school. “And then your wife called, and-”
Whatever words that had nearly spilled out were silenced as Cooper reached for Veronica's shoulder and pressed her back against the pristinely clean side of his car, her body sandwiched between himself and the vehicle, his hands finding her jaw and tilting back her chin to capture her lips.
“We're here...we're all alone...and I don't think either of us really wanna dwell on my marriage, right now,” he mused, stroking her cheek, her jaw, along her throat. “In fact,” he dropped his hands from her just as suddenly, and she watched in silence as he gripped his wedding band and drew it off his ring finger, nudging the round piece of metal into his smallest pocket. “Does that help?” he asked, and after a few seconds, she finally nodded, glancing back up to his eyes.
“A little,” she admitted, reaching out to feel the freshly bare spot on his hand. Suddenly dipping his free hand into his back pocket, he dragged out his phone, glanced at the screen, and pressed the power button until the device began to shut off, just as Veronica had earlier.
“There,” he declared as he showed her the black screen. “No more distractions. Just...you and me,” he observed, leaning against the driver's door as he continued to hold her hand, Veronica weaving her slender fingers between his larger ones.
“You, and me...and your minivan,” she acknowledged, and Cooper shifted his gaze to the vehicle they leaned against.
“Please don't call it that...it makes me sound like a soccer mom, or something,” he huffed, but there was a warmth to his expression as he watched her.
“Sorry,” Veronica mumbled, and she complied to his will when he released her, only to place a hand on her waist through her dress, and twirl her around to face his vehicle as he stepped up behind her, Veronica leaning her body against the glass and metal surface before her. “So...was this your plan?” she spoke up, and he let out a small hmm? as his fingers wandered over the sides of her body through her clingy sweater dress, reaching the bottom hem and slowly dragging up the edge over the roundness of her ass, leaning his body in even closer, the denim of his jeans meeting her mostly bare skin. “To get me alone, again...against the side of your mini-”
“Car,” he insisted, drawing a hand back to dig out his remote, pressing a button and placing his arm around her as the door slid open to reveal the second row of seating. “And actually, I thought you might be more comfortable inside,” he continued, reaching inside the vehicle and fiddling around until the seat began to electronically adjust and recline, looking more like a modern theater seat. “There's plenty of room, for...all sorts of adventures.”
“Adventures?” she repeated as she dragged the edge of her dress back into place, and proceeded to climb inside, maneuvering past the reclined seat to settle into the next one over. “Is that what they used to called it?”
“Hey, take it easy on me,” Cooper muttered, as he climbed into the reclined seat and slid the door back into place, the engine still running, heating up the chilled vehicle to a more comfortable temperature. “'I haven't done anything like this in a long time,” he reminded, stretching his body out over the reclined surface. Letting his head fall to one side against the cushioning below him, he reached out a welcoming hand, “C'mere.”
Taking a breath as she stared at his outstretched hand, Veronica shifted her gaze back up to his eyes, instead. “I don't suppose you still have that condom from the nurse's office?” she hedged, and to her relief, Cooper simply raised his brows thoughtfully, and started to pat his hands over his own clothing, looking for his wallet.
“I...It's not...here,” he mumbled as he thumbed through his billfold, but before Veronica could respond, he started to climb out of his seat and toward the front row.
“It's okay. I'm on the pill, so-”
“Hold on, it might be...” his voice fell away as he popped open the glove box, shuffling his hand around inside until his fingers brushed over a square packet, and something else he'd nearly forgotten. Extracting the two discoveries, he returned to the reclined seat and adjusted it to sit up straighter. Holding both items in his hands, he glanced over to the young woman at his side. Opening his hands, he watched for her reaction as she noticed first the shiny pouch, and the small, hinged box immediately after. Before Veronica's mind could work through a dozen explanations for the gift box – most of them including the wife who surely sat at home at that very moment, assuming no ill intentions-
“Here,” Cooper offered simply, reaching out with the box in the palm of his hand as he clutched the pouch with the other, Veronica taking hold of what he offered her with hesitant fingers.
“Cooper, you really shouldn't...” her voice faded into silence as she stared at the pendant necklace inside the hinged box, a single glistening stone, hanging from a delicate chain – a replacement for the cheaper one he'd snapped as he'd ripped it from The Butcher's most recent victim's throat.
“Do you like it?” he abruptly asked, and she glanced back up to his eyes, and down again, as she carefully extracted the necklace from the box.
“I do,” she confessed, setting the box down on the floor, holding the piece of evidence in her hand. “How long have you been holding on to this?” she asked as she crept over to slide onto his lap when he reached a hand out again.
“Since the summer,” he answered, a technical truth. It hadn't been his initial aim to gift it to her, but as his hands slid around her neck to fasten the piece of jewelry, he found himself glad to have it at his disposal. “I never know when I'm going to see you next, so...” his voice faded away as he watched her stare at the pendant, held between the tips of her fingers. “Maybe I should have waited until after, though,” he contemplated as she looked back up to his eyes, her brows drawing together in confusion. “I don't want you to feel...obligated.”
“Cooper,” Veronica whispered as she stood up, just to adjust and sit back down, the hem of her dress rising up her thighs as she straddled him. “I had a pretty good idea of where things might go if I followed you out here,” she admitted, placing her hands along his shoulders as his own hands found her hips, running the pads of his fingers up and down her curves that sat atop his lap, through the sweater material. “I'm where I wanna be.”
“So am I,” Cooper mumbled, running his thumbs over the knit surface as she shifted slightly atop him, the bottom edge of the dress rising with every move they made. “Well, almost...”
With a brief glance around the parking garage from the confines of the minivan's back seat, Veronica felt Cooper's fingertips at her cheek, and she returned her gaze to his umber eyes, focused squarely on her. “It's just us. No school, no crowd...just us...just me, and my girl,” he assured, nudging strands of hair that had fallen out of place behind her ear. “It's what we both want, isn't it?”
She answered not with words, but still her lips, as she leaned into him, tenderly accepting the kiss he immediately offered, Cooper's hands along her sides and bunching up the fabric that clung to her. Veronica's hands found his belt, and began to unfasten it, working at the button of his jeans, the zipper below. If he'd lacked the boxer-briefs that clung to his skin, his cock would have sprung forth in defiance of gravity, immediately. With a quick jumble of limbs and groans and soft laughter, Cooper's jeans, underwear, and the scrap of lace that had protected Veronica's modesty, were deposited onto the empty seat at their side, the married man's hands grasping at the parted thighs of the young woman who was not his bride.
“How are you already so wet?” Cooper whispered as he stared up to her closed eyes, her open thighs on his lap as he mentally complemented the spaciousness of the vehicle he'd selected for himself. “I've barely touched you.”
“Cooper,” she breathed as she placed a hand at his shoulder, her other hand wrapping around his cock, swiping the pad of her thumb over the pearly fluid leaking out of its slit, Cooper's eyes flitting closed as Veronica slid her glistening flesh along his length, carefully rolled her hips. “You don't have to touch me to make me wet. Just being around you, I...I want you all the time.” Cooper's grip on her tightened slightly as he began to rut lightly against her where she worked atop his lap, teasing and delicious and frustrating all at once. “And when you're so close, even just holding my hand, I...I don't think there's any hope for me.”
Eyes focused on the junction of their thighs, Cooper relaxed more into the reclined seat, watching her movements as her slick coated the underside of his cock, and when she slid into just the right position, he thrust his hips, sheathing himself inside her with a gasp of surprise from Veronica, and a groan from his own lips as her walls clinched around him. “No hope?” he questioned as he began to pump himself inside her, as she rolled her hips and let out the softest sounds he'd heard in nearly a month.
“I think...,” she began, and sighed instead as he took hold of her hips and guided her body as he thrust inside, burying himself to the hilt as she engulfed him. “I think you've...I think you've ruined me,” she whispered, letting out more inarticulate noises as his large hands began to explore, grasping gently at her clothed breasts that bounced with every movement of his hips.
“Not yet,” he breathed out, his fingers grazing over the sides of her neck, and palming the nape to drag her into another kiss when she mumbled a 'what?' in response. Her swallowed word was replaced with simpler noises, sighing into his mouth as his hands ghosted down her sides and around to grip her ass, encouraging her to grind against him. Cooper observed her with fascination and pride as he leaned back against the reclining seat once more, her lips still parted as she rode him. “You, uh...you said-mmph...uhh, you're on the pill, right?” the husband groaned out, sparing a half-lidded glance to the forgotten condom packet, poking out of the compartment at his side.
Veronica nodded, opening her eyes to look into his, following his gaze. “Oops,” she mumbled as her movements stilled, making a face that seemed to confirm it was an honest mistake, and that she couldn't care less. “Do you wanna-”
“Don't you dare,” Cooper rasped as he suddenly thrust deeper inside, encouraging her to move as he gripped her hips tighter, Veronica's eyes sliding closed again as he took blatant control, leaning in closer as he guided her along his cock, slow and steady, knowing anything more would take him over the edge, humiliatingly quickly. It had been well over half a year since he'd been touched by anything but his own hands, after all, and he damn sure wasn't going to let it end any sooner than he could prevent.
The necklace from his latest victim bounced between the two of them as Cooper fucked her until his body could take no more, spilling inside as her walls and her arms clung to him as if he would evaporate, should she let go.
The ride was mostly quiet as Cooper sat in the driver's seat of his Kia, Veronica in the passenger seat at his side. The radio hummed at a low volume, just loud enough for the songs to be discernible, but neither paid it much mind. Cooper kept his eyes fairly steadily on the road, mostly free of traffic as he avoided highways and busier main streets, extending the trip as much as he dared. The game was likely finished by now, the city's team almost certainly suffering another loss, and the husband knew he only had so long before his absence became excessive. He still needed to stop by one of his safe houses to clean up, and wash her off of him. Much as he favored cleanliness, he mentally conceded that he'd happily wear the scent of her on his body all night and into the morning if he could. “I'm sorry,” he suddenly spoke aloud, and the young woman at his side shifted her gaze to him, confused and a bit concerned.
“Why are you sorry?” she questioned, drawing her limbs up to sit cross-legged in the seat, her boots abandoned on the floor, socks clinging to her feet. Anxiety immediately began to gnaw at her as she mentally thumbed through all the reasons he might have for an apology. Maybe he regretted what they'd done, or was readying himself to declare they shouldn't see each other any-
“All the build up, and then...you just felt so damn good, and I couldn't...hold it back,” he admitted, glancing her way as they came to a stop sign. “Next time, it'll be better,” he assured, and her brows raised as she considered his words.
“Next time?” she repeated, and he nodded as his eyes re-focused on the road, the car beginning to roll forward again.
“Unless you don't want to-”
“No, I...I do,” Veronica interrupted, and the driver let out a faint chuckle. “And, um...it's okay,” she murmured, accepting Cooper's right hand when he reached it out toward her, navigating the wheel with his left.
“It's just been a really long time, and you felt so...” his voice drifted off, taking in a breath and stroking her knuckles with his thumb.
“How, um...how long has it been?” she asked suddenly, and with barely a moment to recall, he promptly answered.
“Since before we met,” he confirmed, easing his foot onto the break as he reached a corner, and turned. “What about you?”
Veronica remained silent as she tried to recall her last complete sexual encounter. Her answer did not match his own.
“Well?” he spoke up again, and felt her draw her hand away, slowly.
“It was...just after the school year ended...at the beginning of summer,” she admitted, and Cooper briefly glanced her way before returning his gaze to the road, his expression unchanged, unreadable. “It was after I saw you at the school, with your wife,” she explained, and he nodded, his gaze focused on the street before them. “I was jealous, and I felt so...stupid,” Veronica admitted, and Cooper's brows furrowed slightly. Corruptible and easy to manipulate, yes, but stupid? He shook his head in silent disagreement, listening as she continued.
“Anyway, it's was just...some guy. I picked the first guy on this app that didn't make my skin crawl, and we had a proper date, and things just...kinda happened.” The last of her words came out as little more than a mumble, Cooper taking another turn on a quiet street, her tiny, rented home entering their view from several houses away. “It didn't mean anything,” she clarified, and the car rolled on until he pressed the breaks and put his minivan into park, adjusting his keys in the ignition until the engine became silent. “And it...it wasn't worth it.”
“He didn't hurt you-” Cooper began to question, but she swiftly quashed his concern.
“No, nothing like that, we just...didn't really have any chemistry. To be honest...it just made me miss you even more.” His eyes were focused squarely on her own as she finally gazed up at him. “I didn't even know that was possible.” Before Cooper could muster a reassuring response, his phone began to buzz and play a clip from a song Veronica only faintly recognized. Cooper's eyes focused on the screen as he tapped away a response to the new text, and slipped it back into the concealed pocket of his jacket. “Was that...Lady Raven?” Veronica spoke up, a hint of amusement in her voice as she stared at him, watching as he shrugged in admittance.
“My daughter, she, uh...she insisted on making it my ringtone for her,” Cooper explained, and the young woman smiled more broadly at the answer.
“I didn't know song ringtones were even still a thing,” she answered, and he shrugged.
For as poor of a husband as he had become, he still held on fiercely to the label of 'good dad'. “I'm taking Riley to see her in concert in a few weeks. She's already counting down the hours,” he revealed, and the smile on Veronica's face softened into something closer to admiration.
“That's cool,” she stated simply, and Cooper nodded slightly. “I didn't get to see anyone I actually wanted to see in concert until I was old enough to pay for it on my own,” she admitted, and the confined space went silent again as she begrudgingly started to pull on her boots. She was absolutely not ready to say goodbye, but she knew it couldn't be helped. “So, um...when do you think...,” she closed her mouth for a few seconds of contemplation, and let out a sigh, took in a deeper breath. “When can I...see you again?”
“You're sure you want to?” Cooper pressed, but not an inch of his face appeared serious, and his passenger sucked in her lower lip and nodded resolutely. “Well, let's see, uh...” Cooper paused, taking a moment to actually consider his options. “There's a dance coming up at the school, I think...right around Halloween,” he recalled, and Veronica nodded slowly, a bit confused. “Well, I think they're still looking for chaperones to sign up...I'm sure we could manage to slip away, unnoticed,” he suggested, and she nodded with understanding, rolling her eyes at the thought of chaperoning a middle school dance, but knowing the eventual moments alone with Cooper would be worth it.
* * * a few weeks later * * *
What started out as a very normal day had plummeted into a bizarre and unsettling night as Veronica drove home from her boring, unfulfilling office job, thinking about Cooper sporadically throughout the day as she often did, wondering how the concert was going and how he was coping with an arena full of teenage fangirls and the pop star they worshiped. Confusion and curiosity had crept over her as she encountered the first checkpoint on her way home, a sinking feeling in her stomach as the officer showed her a photo of a very familiar man, asking if she'd seen him or knew him at all. She had lied, of course, and stated she did not recognize him, and drove on, but her stomach felt sick as her mind raced. She'd faced a second checkpoint with slightly less composure, denying again her knowledge of him, but by the third stop, a couple of miles from her house, she was barely keeping it together. Placing her phone in airplane mode, shutting off the car stereo, she focused solely on reaching her home, and then...
The street was dark as usual as she turned onto it, her diminutive house coming into view thanks to her headlights, the streetlights still out of order from the most recent thunderstorm. Rolling up the driveway, she glanced up to her front door, and squinted as she noticed a faint light coming through the window beside it. Energy bills being unreasonably high, she was almost certain she'd shut off everything she could before leaving, that morning. Her steps were slow and cautious as she locked her car, cringing at the obnoxiously loud beep of the alarm, and approached her front door. Still locked. No obvious signs of forcible entry. She pressed her key into the lock and hedged inside.
Standing in the threshold, there was no question that she wasn't alone. Though she saw no other forms of life, her washing machine was rattling through a rinse cycle, and the dishes she'd left in the sink after breakfast that morning were on the drying rack, and water was blasting noisily from the shower head in her bathroom. It didn't take more than a few seconds for her to correctly guess who else was in her home.
Abandoning her belongings on a side table and slipping out of her shoes, she made the short trek to the bathroom, the sound of flowing water ending just as she raised her hand to knock gently at the door, and her voice was soft and anxious as she simply asked, “Cooper?” Met with silence for several seconds, the door finally opened from the inside, and Veronica stared up at the tawny, looming man she'd sworn multiple times in the last hour to have no knowledge of. Towel wrapped around his waist, hair tousled and damp, friendship bracelets still wrapped around his wrist, he stared at her as she stared back at him, silent, waiting. “I...,” she began, swallowed, started again, “I don't...I-”
“How was work?” he asked abruptly, and her brows furrowed as he glimpsed himself in the mirror, using his fingers to comb his damp hair into the style he'd grown accustom to.
“It was...What are you doing here?” she mumbled as she watched him preen.
“I imagine you've heard by now...I had a, uh...a pretty messy night,” he confirmed, and she nodded slowly, staring at him as his gaze shifted toward her reflection in the bathroom mirror. “You haven't alerted anyone, have you? That's I'm here?” he asked, and she shook her head, 'no'. “I see you're still wearing the necklace I gave you.”
Glancing down and lifting her hand to grasp the pendant that hung from her neck, she looked back up to him as his own hand reached out to gently clutch the sparkling jewel, something akin to relief washing over him when she showed no hesitation at his nearness, still. Veronica couldn't help but notice the lack of a gold band around his finger, and Cooper watched her studiously as she reached her free hand up to grasp at his unadorned fingers.
“I wasn't sure how you'd react,” he admitted, abandoning the jewel to brush his fingers over her cheek, nudging the loose strands from a long day out of her eyes.
“I don't...I-” she began to stammer, confused and anxious, and more than a little unsettled at the fact that her response was due to the idea of losing him, so much more than the fresh knowledge of his brutally violent extra-curricular activities.
“You're still my girl, aren't you?” he whispered, both his hands on her face now as he held her gaze captive. Swallowing visibly, she nodded slowly, transfixed by The Butcher as he stood before her. “And I'm sure you understand, that I...I can't stay here,” he muttered as he watched her, felt her hands as she lifted them up to cover his own, her eyes closed, her face flushing, hot moisture prickly at the corners of her eyes.
“I know,” she whispered as her grip loosened, but his own hands grasped at hers before she could drop them back down. “You can...you can hide out here, as long as you need t-”
“Come with me,” he implored, suddenly, and she looked back up to his umber eyes, near-certain she'd imagined his request. “Please,” he insisted when her silence continued, Veronica taking in a shuddered breath as he dipped down and pressed his lips against hers, his kiss soft and minty and reassuring, her hands on his chest as he wrapped his strong arms around her and held her in his embrace. Nodding almost imperceptibly against him, he let go a sigh of relief when he felt her arms wind around him as well. “You're sure,” he murmured as he leaned down to rest his forehead against her crown.
“I'm sure.”
🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪
Comments and reblogs are appreciated and encouraged. I have a bad habit of not always responding, but I read them all and they make my days less miserable.
MY TAG LIST HAS BEEN UPDATED TO THOSE WHO REGULARLY COMMENT OR REBLOG. SEE MY PINNED POST FOR DETAILS. I WILL NO LONGER BE TAGGING PEOPLE WHO NEVER COMMENT OR REBLOG MY FICS.
OMFG I JUST READ THIS AND HOLY HELL DO I LOVE THIS
I love how amazingly perfect you capture cooper. It feels so fucking accurate because we all know he's a cunning and manipulative psychopath. The gift he gave her was just the cherry on top to perfectly emphasize that.
You cannot tell me he doesn't know what he's doing to her. He knows she's putty in his hands (but wouldn't we all be?) and he knows just how to manipulate her.
Aa well, you never disappoint with your stories. You ate it up and left no crumbs 👏🏽🔥 only left me wanting more!
make a post showcasing all of your blorbos and then tag some friends to do the same!!
thank you for the tag @holacia3 💕
Dave York | We all know it, he's my number 1 fictional guy and acts as an representative for basically all other ppu characters. He's a good husband, a girl dad, looks amazing in suits and in tac gear, knows how to use guns and knives... He's the jackpot.
David Loki - Prisoners | a representative for basically all Jake Gyllenhaal characters. But he's the one that blorbos me the longest time. He's miserable and broad and mysterious and I can fix him. Or at least pack him his lunch.
Joel Miller | this pixel man in particular. Just... ugh. How could you not love him?
Benny Miller | bestest boy. bestest manhandler. bestest making you giggle while doing the nasty. bestest puppy dog eyes maker.
Frank Castle | another dad figure with a traumatic past. i need him injected into my veins actually
Clayton Cote - beneath the harvest sky | basically another representative for all Aidan Gillen characters. Clayton is checking all the bad boy boxes for me, plus he has trust issues? Hello? I can fix him.
Thank you for remembering me and tagging me in this! I cannot wait to get started on my own list I already have a couple in mind, but it was really surprising at how much I could relate to your list 👏🏽
to the people in my ask requesting more jake gyllenhaal fics, please know that i see you and i hear you and that i will continue writing as of this weekend.
thank you so much to everyone to continue to read and support my writing despite my desperately needed break.
'Twas the Saturday Night Before Christmas - Wyatt Walker x Fem Reader
This fic is a combined fulfillment of my 2 remaining Wyatt Walker requests from last year, for dialogue prompts "I'd kiss you if you let me" and "I'd spoil you rotten if I got the chance" (both from anons). This is a winter holiday-centered fic, and was intended to be posted about a month ago, but...my motivation has been practically non-existent, and my mental health is in the gutter. I kind of fell out of love with this fic TBH (a crappy personal Christmas probably didn't help), which is probably why it took so long to finish, but hopefully some of you will enjoy it anyway. Gif is mine, as always.
PS : Moodboard at the bottom is not meant to be ethnicity-specific. I just had a very specific item of clothing in mind and there was only one model in the photos.
(( word count ~ 4,400 ))
“I don't need help!” the young woman shouted against the noise of passing traffic, before Wyatt had even closed the driver-side door of his truck. She hadn't even looked up at him as he slowly began to step toward her, loose gravel crunching under his boots. “Seriously,” she called out, finally glancing up from her own activities, toward the stranger in the 'Hibdon Tires Plus' button-down, the blinding sun at his back. “I've got this.”
Wyatt had been traveling down a stretch of highway toward his uncle Dallas' place to plan an upcoming heist, and had driven past a car pulled over on the side of the road – a not uncommon site. It had been in his rear-view mirror as he passed, when he'd noticed a young woman on the passenger side, fiddling within the confines of the wheel well, and he had taken the next exit to circle back around. He hadn't expected to be snapped at as a result, but he continued to approach anyway.
“I've got a better jack in my truck-”
“Look, mister...I'm a big girl,” she answered as he neared close enough to touch the bumper of her car, pausing in his steps to listen to the stranger, who, contrary to her phrasing, looked rather petite in comparison to himself. “I've already done most of the work. I don't need help.” The standard tire, low on air, was indeed leaning against the car, halfway between herself and Wyatt, the spare tire bolted into place. Wyatt glanced at her hands, gripping the crank handle, grease and blood on her knuckles.
“I see you've, uh...scraped yourself up, there,” Wyatt pointed out, and she glanced down to her wounds, exhaling with an eye roll, and looking back up to him. “Wouldn't be any trouble,” he insisted, taking a step forward, and reaching a hand out. “Ain't no reason for you to hurt yourself any more than you already have,” he added, and she let out a breath from her squat position on the pavement.
“Fine,” she finally breathed out, holding out the steel rod for the stranger to take.
❄️ ❄️ ❄️
“Are you always that stubborn?” Wyatt asked as he sat across from the stranger in the booth of a breakfast-centric diner, flipping through the menu, deciding between waffles and pancakes. True to her exasperated word, the work to change her flat tire had been mostly complete, but she had admittedly appreciated his assistance in the finishing touches of the task, and had agreed to join him for a meal after.
“I'm just...having a bad day, alright?” she declared, shrugging her shoulders as she gazed at the laminated pages.
“I bet,” Wyatt agreed, glancing up at her while she was distracted. If he'd caught proper sight of her the first time around, he'd have pulled over immediately. “Nothing like a popped tire to ruin your afternoon,” he continued, and she shook her head slightly.
“More like, dealing with the cost of replacing it,” she mumbled, picking up her glass to take a drink of watered-down soda. “I, uh...never mind,” she began and immediately ended, but Wyatt spoke up instantly.
“Maybe you didn't notice, but, uh...” Wyatt indicated the patch on his shirt. “I can get you a good deal-”
“I got laid off, today,” she suddenly piped up, and Wyatt's brows knit together as he sat up straighter. “My department got downsized, as of...” she glanced at her phone screen, “Fifty-seven minutes ago.”
“Wow, that's...shitty,” he admitted, unable to form a more articulate response, and she shrugged before dropping her shoulders and slumping back against the cracked, vinyl upholstery of the booth.
“It sure is,” she stated simply, staring at the handsome but ill-timed stranger across the table. “They say this shit comes in three's, so...you're not gonna dine and dash, and stick me with the bill, or something, are you?” she asked, a defeated half-smile across her lips.
“No, of course not. I, uh...I was just thinkin' that, um...” he hesitated, running his fingers through his hair, as he stared at the young woman across from him – pleasing to his eyes, and charming, despite the unfortunate circumstances they'd met under.
“I hope you're not about to ask me out,” she mumbled, glancing away from his umber eyes as their waitress came into view from across the restaurant. “No offense, but now is so incredibly not the time-”
“Well, actually, I was gonna ask how you'd feel about working at my car shop.”
❄️ ❄️ ❄️
“Think ya' got enough ornaments up there?” Wyatt asked as he stepped into the lobby of his auto sales and repair shop, watching the young woman who had infiltrated his life so completely over the last several months, hanging baubles on an artificial tree.
“I think there's still space for a few more,” she retorted, glancing down from her perch on the step-stool, toward the boss she had a less-than-professional relationship with. “You're welcome to make adjustments-”
“No, I, uh...you look like you've got it under control,” he answered immediately, standing to the side to observe her efforts.
It had been almost half a year since that chance day when he'd found her changing a tire on the side of the highway, and near-instantly offered her a job before he even knew her last name. At the time, he hadn't even been certain there was enough work around the shop, outside of sales and repair, to consistently fill up a forty-hour work week, but Wyatt had quickly found he'd underestimated the value she could bring to his business. Filing, secretarial work, payroll – mostly the excess responsibilities that fell on his own shoulders, he had placed onto hers, but she had become so much more than that. Not only to himself, but to the entirety of his staff, she'd become a near-constant morale boost, to the point that work simply didn't feel right when she was out during regular operating hours. It had even been her idea to have a small Christmas party, including a 'Secret Santa' gift exchange, and with several of the men without partners or much family to speak of, no one had turned their nose up at the idea. It had, unsurprisingly, fallen on her to decorate for the event, and so she found herself putting the almost final touches on the tree, preparing for the small, upcoming party.
It certainly looked more festive than anything Wyatt had put out for the season at home, the owner realized, as he glanced around beyond the tree, to the strings of lights and garland, the paper snowflakes adhered to the windows. His exploratory gaze did not go unnoticed.
“Am I missing anything?” a feminine voice spoke up, and Wyatt directed his vision back toward the young woman within arm's reach.
“Hmm?” Wyatt mumbled in answer, and the young woman took a step down the short ladder, closer to the floor.
“You look like you're searching for something specific,” she clarified, and Wyatt shrugged in response.
“I was, uh...makin' sure there wasn't any mistletoe hangin' around,” he answered, and she gave him a quizzical look.
“No, that...hadn't exactly occurred to me,” she answered, her brows quirked as she considered him. "Who are you gonna kiss in a shop full of dudes, anyway?"
"I'd kiss you if you let me," Wyatt blurted out, the words automatically falling from his lips before his brain could catch up. He instantly closed his eyes, his mouth opening and closing again without any more sound escaping, and when he finally opened his eyes again, he was not surprised to find her staring at him. The look on her face was not as easily discernible as he'd hoped. Before he could come up with something intelligent to say, the sound of his name being shouted across the shop caught both their attentions, and the two glanced in the direction of the voice. When Wyatt glanced back up in her direction before leaving the lobby, he found her back to him, her nimble fingers working at the artificial tree, her response still unstated.
When Wyatt arrived at the source of the shouting of his name, he found a semi-familiar man who occasionally delivered auto parts, watching out not for Wyatt, but the young woman in the lobby he leaned to the side to catch a glimpse of.
“I don't know how you get any work done with that hot little piece hangin' around here all day,” the delivery man uttered as he continued to stare, holding out a clipboard requiring signatures.
“How about you show a little respect, and stop starin',” Wyatt muttered as he scribbled his name on the form, pressing it back into the other man's hand, who voiced something sleazy in response. “Hey,” The shop owner spoke up again when his recommendation was ignored. “Why don'tcha pop your eyes back in your head before I rip 'em outta your skull?”
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The shop was mostly silent between the hours of closing, and the scheduled party, no one left at the auto-centric business save for the boss and his secretary, the Saturday before Christmas. All the mechanics had gone home in the mean time, for a proper meal, a shower, and whatever else, leaving the remaining two to do whatever it was they did when they were alone together. Rumors had swirled for months, though no one outside Wyatt and his secretary much cared about whatever was going on between the two of them. It had mostly just come to be a light source of amusement for the auto technicians, watching their employer and the only woman in the shop pretend that things were completely professional between them. It didn't much help their case of said professionalism when both had traded between themselves and the auto workers to make sure they had each other's names for Secret Santa.
“Wow,” Wyatt had stated simply as he stepped out of his office, through the garage portion of the building, and into the lobby. “This looks...I really don't pay you enough, do I?” he mumbled as his eyes scanned the tables full of laid out foodstuffs, the individually marked bags under the tree that would soon be joined with the Santa gifts, filled with 'masculine' treats like miniature bottles of liquor, meat snacks, each man's favorite candy, and of course – their holiday bonus checks. More festive decor dressed up the generally plain room, and the occasional ornament that didn't seem to quite fit in with the shiny, vivid baubles, dotted the tree.
“Probably not,” he heard a soft voice behind himself, and he swiveled about to find his only female employee, expecting to find her dressed in the same slacks and button-down she'd worn during the day. Wyatt's mouth opened slightly before closing again, no sound escaping, as he stared at her, and the shimmery blue dress that clung to her frame, and flowed out to end half way down her thighs. When he remained silent, and simply stared, she spoke up again. “Do you think it's too much?”
“I, uh...I think it might be a little too...little,” he answered, more articulate words alluding him. “Not sure how I feel about my guys seeing you like this,” Wyatt continued as she started to wander closer, watching his eyes, as his own focused on what she wore and what it failed to cover.
“I'm not worried about them,” she mumbled, reaching for his hand when he extended it toward her, staring at him intently as his gaze finally made it back up to her eyes. When he reverted back to silence again, his fingers stroking her hand and wrist as traffic flowed beyond the large windows, she glanced to the tree that she had put so much time into decorating. “So, um...how does everything look?”
“Looks great,” Wyatt murmured immediately, and she rolled her eyes and smiled, reaching her hand up to his cheek, and directing him toward the display beyond herself that she'd put so much effort into.
“I meant the tree,” she emphasized, taking a step back to watch him as he scrutinized her work. Beyond the vivid, reflective, jewel-toned baubles, Wyatt found far older pieces hanging on the occasional branch, made not of glass or plastic, but of cotton and pipe cleaners, construction paper and googly eyes. Wyatt stared at the aged crafts in silence, glancing over half a dozen trinkets from the past, finally reaching out to pluck off a miniature tree, made of glued-together Popsicle sticks, decorated with green paint and pom-pom balls of various colors. Flipping it over in his large hand, he found his own name scrawled on the back, misspelled and in his own handwriting, along with the year of the ornament's creation.
“Where...” was all he could manage as he held the school craft – older than the woman beside him – in his hand, his umber eyes twinkling from the reflections of the colorful lights, and his sudden, overwhelming emotions.
“Dallas,” she immediately answered, Wyatt's gaze drifting back to the tree to return the extracted ornament, and tug off another. “He found some boxes of...well, Walker history I guess, in his basement. Including your, uh...handmade ornaments,” she continued, as Wyatt began to explore the tree more thoroughly, drawing off each hand-crafted piece he found to inspect it more closely. “If anybody asks, I'll say they're mine,” she suddenly mumbled as the two of them watched a vehicle pull in off the street, and onto the lot the shop resided on.
“Think I'm gonna get embarrassed, or somethin'?” he questioned as he looked back at her, and she glanced out the window, at the second car that pulled in, noticing the beginnings of fluffy snow, falling from the sky, and reaching a few dozen windshields.
“I think you're already starting to get misty-eyed,” she confirmed, reaching for his empty hand when familiar mechanics started emptying out of their respective vehicles. “Hey, um...I need something in the back, and I need a tall person to help me get it,” she suddenly spoke up, and Wyatt's brows drew together as he followed her, dragged along by the smaller hand that gripped his larger one. The two of them eventually stepped into a narrow room full of boxes of files – not much more than a glorified closet – and Wyatt's gaze fell upon the tallest of the stacks as the lobby door opened, and new voices began to filter in.
“Which one?” he inquired simply as he glanced around, his secretary pointing to the door instead, or rather a piece of something plastic and green sat above the moulding. Wyatt reached up to grasp the faux foliage, comprised of green leaves and white berries, and before he could utter another word, his employee gripped the collar of his shirt and pulled him down to her height, her lips mushing against his. The fake mistletoe fell out of Wyatt's hand as he reached to cup her cheek instead, her back meeting a wall almost immediately as he pressed her against it, her body dwarfed by his own as his palms gently cradled her face. The sounds of their kisses were completely drowned out by the collective noises of the men that had begun to filter in to the lobby. “Is this because of what I said the other day?” he queried as he loomed over her. “Or is this my Christmas gift,” he added, nudging the green bundle on the floor with his shoe.
“The first one...kind of,” she confirmed, placing her hands against Wyatt's chest and gripping the fabric that draped over it. “I guess I also just...kinda got tired of waiting,” she added, shrugging her shoulders, closing her eyes as he leaned over her, placing his forehead against hers after he captured another quick kiss.
“The first day we met, you made it clear you didn't want me askin' you out,” he reminded, and she took a breath and sighed, shaking her head, the tips of their noses brushing against one another. “And! I wouldn't ever wanna make you uncomfortable, with you bein' my employee and all.”
“Do I look uncomfortable to you?” she spoke up, and Wyatt stood back up straight, carefully cupping her jaw as he looked over her features. “Funny,” she mumbled, reaching up to grasp his hand.
“I'm serious, though...I'd rather you be comfortable than prioritize my own...” his words fell away as she stood up on tip-toe to steal a kiss, then another, Wyatt chuckling when she nudged him back against the closed door. “Think we oughta get out there, before the boys start dippin' in to the eggnog,” he mumbled, though his arms continued to rest around her waist.
“Wait, not...hold on,” she answered suddenly, slipping out of Wyatt's grasp as she stepped back toward a stack of boxes, reaching an arm through the crack of shadowy space between them. “Why don't you go ahead and, uh...open your gift,” she mumbled, pressing a pristinely wrapped present into his hand, the paper's pattern distinct and aged.
“I can wait-”
“No, really...go ahead,” she encouraged, and he lowered his gaze to the paper-sheathed box. Glancing up at her for a moment, he cast his eyes back to the item in his hands, and began to carefully open it, guiding a finger between the edges of wrap. Pulling the paper away, a confused look formed across his face, and he managed a simple, questioning, “You shouldn't have?”
“Oh my g-...keep opening,” she huffed, and Wyatt's brows drew together as he stared at a box meant for fuses, but he continued along, finally drawing out something rectangular from inside, packed with green tissue paper. Glancing up at her expectant face once more, Wyatt tore the remaining paper away and stared at the framed photo in his hand. His eyes darted back to hers, and down to the picture again – a joyous moment between a child-version of himself, and his deceased mother, captured on film.
“Dallas?” Wyatt asked simply, his mouth pressing into a strained frown as moisture began to well up at the corners of his eyes.
“Of course, Dallas,” she mumbled, reaching up to brush fallen strands of hair from his face as he wiped away quickly-forming hot tears from his cheeks. “I didn't quite hit the $25 limit, but-” A pounding on his office door, beyond the file closet they stood in, cut off her words, and Wyatt wiped more tears away from his eyes as he stood up straighter. “I, um...I knew you wouldn't wanna cry in front of your guys,” she whispered, and Wyatt's gaze met hers, lifting up a tear-dampened hand to brush her hair back from her face. “Do you like it?”
Wyatt tilted his head as he considered her, a half-smile tugging at his lips as he leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead, “I love it.”
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To neither Wyatt's, nor his secretary's surprise, the party was already a festive, joyous success by the time they made it out of the closet, their emergence fortunately going unnoticed. The mechanics, and guests who had arrived as their plus-one's, quickly dived into the food and drink, including the alcohol-infused eggnog, and a collection of gifts – mostly in holiday-themed bags – began to accumulate under the tree, among the initial shop-financed gift bags. A particularly shiny box was eventually added after Wyatt disappeared briefly to his office, and within an hour of the gathering beginning, bags and boxes from under the tree had slowly began to disappear as they were collected and opened.
Eyes glancing around the room to make sure all the employees and their guests were distracted, the secretary dropped her gaze to the box in her hand, wrapped in a way that displayed effort despite a lack of skills – the paper metallic and holographic, the edges cut jagged from failed attempts to slice a pristine line. The tag on the gift stated it was from 'Santa', but the handwriting was instantly recognizable as Wyatt's, and she glanced his way, relieved to see his eyes focused elsewhere, before she began to pluck at the clear tape. A wave of discomfort washed over her as she exposed the interior, a smaller box inside the larger box, this one upholstered in a velvet-like fabric. When she glanced back up again, she found Wyatt's umber eyes trained on her from across the lobby, a bottle of domestic beer in his grasp. Taking a deep, nervous breath, she inched the smaller box open, and was met with a loud smack of hinged edges meeting each other when she let it close again. Staring at the fabric-covered box, she glimpsed inside once more, then quickly closed it again. Wyatt let out a sigh from his isolated corner of the bustling room as he watched her cross it, and disappear down the short hallway that led to his office.
She was plopped down in his swivel chair by the time he entered his office, himself, to join her, away from the noise of the party.
“So, you make me make the first move after almost six months-”
“I didn't make-”
“And then you draw my name for a $25 gift, and end up spending...do I even wanna know how much you spent on this?” you asked, exasperated as she gripped the jewelry box in her hand. His silent stare drew a sigh out of her, and she sat the box down on the desk. “More than my rent?” Wyatt looked away to some invisible spot on the wall. “Two months of my rent?” Still no answer. “Please...tell me there isn't anything on the sales lot priced lower than what you spent,” she implored, and her boss glanced toward the parking lot beyond the window at her back. “Wyatt?!”
“I'm thinking!” he answered, watching her slump back in his chair. “I can't remember the price of every car out there off the top of my head,” he insisted, but both the boss and his employee knew that wasn't true. He was too meticulous for that, which only served to validate her irritation. “Do you not like it, or-”
“It's not...this isn't about whether I like it or not-”
“So, you do like it,” he interrupted, and she rolled her eyes, shaking her head slightly.
“...Well, of course I like it,” she finally mumbled, a smile finally returning to Wyatt's lips as he pushed off the door with his foot and took a few steps, sliding into the stationary chair on the opposite side of his desk than normal. “But, that isn't the point,” she huffed, watching him as his shoulders shifted, as he made himself comfortable. “This is...this is way too much.”
“There's no such thing,” he responded, and she slumped further against his chair, glancing toward the door at the sound of a clatter beyond it. “I'd spoil you rotten if I got the chance, darlin',” he continued, “If you gave me that chance.”
“I don't need you to spoil me,” she muttered as he stood up and stepped around the desk, sinking down to sit on the floor by her feet, his legs crossed. “Just be normal...ask me out on an actual date, or something,” she offered, a roar of laughter from a handful of voices erupting from the lobby, drawing both of their attentions.
“So...should I take the necklace back, and-” he began, but she swiped the box before he could lay a hand on it from beside the desk. “No?”
“No...I like it,” she admitted, opening up the box again, finally drawing out a pendant hanging from a delicate, silver-toned chain. “What is it, anyway?” she asked, gazing at the flashes of color that seemed to shift in the glow of the flood lights, streaming in from the window.
“Uh...Tanzanite?” he confirmed, though he sounded a bit uncertain. “I never heard of it, but I guess it's your birth stone?” he explained.
“One of them,” she confirmed. “Certainly the most expensive.”
“Well...I also thought it was the prettiest,” he insisted, tugging his phone out of a denim pocket and shining the flash light on the gem. It shifted deep blue to vibrant green, hints of violent at the furthest edges. “Rare, and unique, and...beautiful,” he continued, staring at the glistening stone before his gaze shifted higher, to the eyes of the young woman that sat before him.
“Guess I'm...lucky you pulled my name,” she finally mumbled, and he winced as he began to stand up, his knees aching a bit as he rose, the sound of something breaking in the lobby convincing him it was time to rejoin the festivities.
“Actually, I had to trade with one of the guys,” he admitted, taking her hand to give her leverage to stand, her feet a tad unsteady as the booze-spiked eggnog she'd enjoyed earlier began to take noticeable effect. “He didn't wanna give up your name, either.”
“That's funny, I had to trade for yours, too,” she answered, grasping the box in one hand as Wyatt held the other. “But, um...he was kind of thrilled to get rid of it.” Wyatt shrugged as he reached his empty hand for the doorknob, but his secretary grasped it gently as his fingers formed a grip around the brass-toned metal. “I wouldn't have taken no for an answer though, just so you...” she finally shrugged, and Wyatt leaned against the door to watch her flustered form. “I wasn't gonna let someone else make you cry,” she murmured, and he chuckled softly as he recalled the gift, or rather gifts that she had given him. Not just the photo, or the ornaments, he realized. She'd dug up a piece of his past he'd thought long gone, and he was grateful for it, and for her. As he began to lean in toward the expectant young woman before him, the knob in his hand seemed to turn of its own accord, and the door opened up to reveal a few of the more inebriated employees, mentally returned to their teen years, trying to catch a sight not meant for them. The door immediately closed again in their faces as Wyatt shoved his palm against it, his other hand weaving into the young woman's hair as he leaned in for a kiss.
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Comments and reblogs are appreciated and encouraged. I have a bad habit of not always responding, but I read them all and they make my days less miserable.
MY TAG LIST HAS BEEN UPDATED TO THOSE WHO REGULARLY COMMENT OR REBLOG. SEE MY PINNED POST FOR DETAILS. I WILL NO LONGER BE TAGGING PEOPLE WHO NEVER COMMENT OR REBLOG MY FICS.
oh my god, this was just too sweet. you don't understand tho
when i got to him opening his gift????
wyatt deserves so much love and i'm so happy you gave it to him. i just know that man would absolutely spoil his girl rotten, granted the acquistion of his money would be questionable
but like excuse me??? how dare you make me cry like this?
i already melted inside when he offered her a job, when she decorated his whole shop with custom-made ornaments. like she breathed life into his shop - and into his life - and he was already whipped when he met her but never wanted to risk making her uncomfortable???
Because the Night - John Woodruff (Oh Lucy!) x Fem OC - Part 2 (of 2) *NSFW*
(AKA Fuckboys Have Feelings, Too)
warnings : consensual sexual content (including unsafe sex), profanity, mentions of alcohol and other substances, mentions of self harm and a sappy happy ending
Read the first chapter if you haven't already, because if you don't, I'll know. That plush in your room? The one you don't remember receiving? It just kind of showed up one day? Yeah. That's mine. It's watching. And IT KNOWS, so I KNOW. My gif.
CHAPTER 1
JOSH HARTNETT MASTERLIST
(( word count ~ 5,300 ))
“Thank you, again,” John muttered as he pressed his key into the lock of his apartment's front door, Nikki standing against the railing, clutched her own car keys. Of course his car wouldn't start. She swore to herself she hadn't willed it into existence, but it wasn't exactly a surprise when either the previous issues, or the lack of gas, or both, had resulted in an engine that refused to spark to life. It hadn't taken much convincing for her to drive him home, and he'd filled up the time between, singing along to her Spotify aloud as she pretended not to be endeared to him.
“Yeah, well...” she mumbled indifferently as she watched him open the door and step inside, disappearing for a few seconds toward the kitchen before he popped back into view.
“You coming in?” he questioned, slumping against the door frame. When he saw the hesitance in her eyes, he immediately began to speak again. “You don't have to stay, or...whatever. You might as well come in, though,” he shrugged, glancing behind himself into the void that he'd not yet illuminated with electric light. “You can rag on my bachelor pad,” he invited, a half grin pulling at his lips as she let out a breath and dropped her crossed arms down to her sides, stepping into the dark apartment and listening as the lock clicked into place behind her. She didn't even have time to form an anxious thought before he flipped a light on, and the two of them squinted at the bright scene around them, John stepping into the kitchen as Nikki shrugged out of the stolen hoodie.
“It's, uh...it's a lot cleaner than I expected,” she uttered as she glanced around. “Of course...it's a lot emptier than I expected, too,” she continued. There wasn't much on the walls, the floors, the shelves. A weight bench filled up the minuscule dining area, a sofa and coffee table in the living area, a surf board against a wall, and not much else.
“Most of my stuff is in storage,” he explained, stepping back into the main, open room, placing a bottle of water into her hand. “It's this or beer,” he confirmed. “I know you're too responsible to drink and drive.”
She was silent as she accepted the plastic bottle, unscrewing the cap and swallowing a mouthful. “I, uh...I was actually thinking about your offer,” she admitted, John glancing her way as he paused in his sweep of the empty food cartons from the table.
“Which offer? I think I made a couple,” he answered, gathering the last of his mess as he swiftly made the apartment more presentable. “All of which are still valid, by the way.”
“Yeah, um...just...a place to stay tonight, if it's not too much trouble,” she clarified, hanging his jacket on the highest hinge of the front door.
“No trouble,” he assured immediately, taking her bag from her hand and setting it down on the table he'd cleared. “Well...take off your shoes, get comfortable. Are you hungry? You didn't eat any of the-”
“I, um...If I could just get a shower, that would be great,” she cut in, digging her hands into the pockets of her shorts as she toed off her sneakers.
“I didn't even think about that,” John mumbled as he immediately led her to the bathroom, pulling out towels from the built-in linen closet.
“I mean, I'm not dirty, or...don't look at me like that,” she quipped as John paused to glance at her when she began vocally defending herself.
“Like what?” John mumbled, checking himself quickly in the mirror before he stepped back out of the bathroom, Nikki a few feet behind.
“I hope you don't think this is all gonna get you laid,” she declared as she diverted from his path, wandering toward another room she'd not yet explored. Much like the rest of the small apartment, his bedroom was rather clean, and awfully plain, save for a random assortment of blankets strewn across the bed. “Well, that tracks.”
“Hmm?” John mumbled as he appeared behind her, his hands on the door frame as he hovered at her back.
"Aren't you a little old to have nothing but a box spring between your mattress and the floor?" she quipped, glancing back toward him, his face mere inches from hers. “I suppose this is where the magic happens?” John opened his mouth briefly, but closed it again, no words escaping, just a faint smile across his lips as he glanced toward the bed, and back to the young woman before him.
“Well, we know where it doesn't happen,” he shrugged, and lifted his arm when she dipped below it to return to the living room, drawing out various toiletries from her bag.
“Scott's house?” she offered, and he nodded with a sigh from behind her.
“Maybe you'll let me make that up to you, someday,” he offered, leaning against the frame as he watched her disappear into the bathroom.
“Maybe,” Nikki mumbled as she locked the door behind herself, and turned on the hot water.
* * *
The apartment was rather dark again by the time she stepped out a half hour later, hair swirled up in a towel as she glanced around. Only the kitchen ceiling light lent any glow, save for what filtered in through the shades from outside. The bedroom door was open, but no one occupied the space, the middle-aged tenant instead watching her drowsily when she turned to look his way, sprawled out on the couch.
“Feel better?” he croaked as he stared back at her, his reddened eyes obscured by the lack of light, appearing more like thick lines of shadow across his face.
“Much,” she mumbled, tossing her head forward so the towel obscured the front of her body, rubbing the worn terrycloth over her hair to soak up what she could of the moisture. When she was satisfied, she stood back up, damp waves falling around her face and shoulders, John's eyes still trained on her. “I take it you're sacrificing the bed to me?”
John slow-blinked, and pushed himself up on one elbow, a blanket he'd dragged from his bed falling to his waist, everything above it bare. “Or you could come curl up with me,” he offered.
“That's, uh...tempting,” she muttered, though her tone made John wonder if she was sincere or just throwing more sarcasm at him. “Did you get a little stoned while I was in there?”
“Is it that obvious?” he managed, as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, watching as she padded around his apartment in a tank and loose shorts that supplied a fleeting glimpse of her rear at certain angles.
“There's a difference between drunk you and high you...it's subtle, but...what are you staring at?” she asked suddenly as she glanced around to him, and found his lazy focus zeroed in on her, or at least parts of her.
“You really want me to answer that?” John rasped, gripping the edge of the couch as he stood up, walking slightly unsteadily across the room to where she stood, Nikki watching him silently, immobile as she observed him.
“Behave yourself,” she mumbled as he closed in, wrapping his arms around her waist and dipping his face into her damp tresses, inhaling the lingering fragrance of her conditioner.
“I'm trying to,” he whispered, his coiled arms tightening slightly, pulling her in even closer, taking in another breath. “God damn, you smell good,” John rasped.
“Yeah, well...we can't all be blessed with such naturally soft hair, Mister Three-In-One,” she quipped, letting her forehead rest against his bare chest, his fingers playing at the drying ends of her pleasantly fragrant strands. “And don't touch my conditioner, it's expensive,” she muttered.
“You planning on sticking around that long?” he asked suddenly, and she glanced up at him, a bit surprised, herself.
“N-...No, I don't, uh...I don't know why I said-”
“Because you can, you know...If you need a place to stay, and you're tired of bouncing around,” he suggested, leaning back as he stood taller, watching her features for clues to her mindset. Before she could transfer her thoughts into words, he spoke up again. “You don't have to answer now, just...think about it. You said yourself, you'd move out tomorrow if you could-”
“John-”
“Nikki, just...just think about it. That's all I ask,” he expressed, drawing his arms away from her, just to lift his hands to nudge damp tresses away from her face. “We can talk about it more in the morning. You look like you're about to pass out.”
“Mmm...you're not wrong,” she mumbled, wondering if he would lean in to kiss her once more, admittedly disappointed when he didn't.
“Come on,” he spoke up as he stepped through the small apartment to flip off the light in the kitchen, taking her towel and depositing it over the shower curtain rod, and reappearing once more, grasping her hand lightly. “Let's go to bed.”
* * *
It was not the shift in the mattress, or even the light slap of bare feet on tile that woke Nikki up, just after three in the morning, but rather the lack of warmth. A door opening nearby, accompanied by the sounds of various sources of water stirred her further, and her eyes opened to near-complete darkness. She mumbled her bedmate's name as she slumped onto her back, patting her hand around on cheap linens, finding no other forms of life. Probably for the best, she mused, as she listened to the shuffling beyond the bedroom door, a familiar form stepping through the threshold a few minutes later.
John paused for a moment at the realization of her wakefulness, before stepping around the bed to his side, setting a chilled bottle of water on the floor, beside the edge of the box spring. “I didn't mean to wake you up,” he croaked in a sleep-hoarse voice, sliding in beside her outstretched form, his legs disappearing under the blankets, his back hunched over as he sat at her side. “I was kinda hoping I could at least give you a full night's rest.”
“ S'okay,” she mumbled, her back to the mattress, tank top disheveled, shoved up to her ribs. “I've definitely woken up to worse,” she continued, a drowsy smile across her lips.
“Good to know I'm not the worst,” John returned as he let his gaze travel over what the sheets exposed.
“Hey...I'm up here,” Nikki huffed with barely an effort to sound bothered, her hand closest to him reaching up to nudge his scruffy chin back toward her face. John immediately took the opportunity to grasp her hand, clutching it in his as he considered her sleepy eyes, and the rest of her features.
“If you don't want me staring, you might wanna turn back over,” he whispered as he drew her hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the knuckles before lowering it back to the bed. When she said nothing, only continued to stare up at him, languid and content, he tilted his head to one side, thoughtful. “I don't think I've ever seen you so...wait,” his eyes narrowed even more than usual as he leaned in closer, the young woman before him looking uncharacteristically unbothered. “Are you a little high?” he inquired. Her shoulders shrugged almost imperceptibly.
“I might have taken an edible before I brushed my teeth,” she confirmed, smiling faintly when she felt the hand that held hers weave their fingers together. “I don't get a lot of opportunities to relax, anymore,” she continued.
“So you're saying my apartment feels like somewhere you can relax?” John asked, reaching with his unoccupied hand to brush her sleep-mussed bangs out of her face. She nodded slightly, reaching her own empty hand up to grasp his, John leaning his weight into his elbow as he held both her hands in his.
“You feel like somewhere I can relax,” she mumbled, her brain just fuzzy enough to not allow her embarrassment at such a confession. “And, just so you know,” she whispered as she clung to his hands, her gaze focused on his eyes as he hovered above her. “This would be the perfect opportunity to kiss me.”
“Is that so?” he whispered as his gaze raked over what the blankets failed to obscure. “I can't help thinking high you is trying to get me in trouble.”
She let out a sigh, closing her eyes for a few moments before she formed actual words again. “Who would you get in trouble with?”
“Sober you,” John spoke up immediately as he began to shift his body, lying more fully on the memory foam topper, prolonging the overextended life of his mattress below.
“Sober me...ate an edible...knowing what edibles do to me,” Nikki assured, turning on her side to nestle in closer to the forty-something year old man to her right.
“How about...” John began, but his words seemed fruitless as she buried her face against his bare chest, her breath tickling his skin.
“How about what?” she mumbled, easily melting into him when his arm encircled her, met with a faded waft of his body-spray.
“How about I kiss you in the morning?” he proposed, adjusting the blankets to drag them higher, her smooth legs grazing his lower half.
Nikki was silent for a few moments before she spoke up, lifting her chin to look upon his face. “You know...if you don't wanna kiss me, you can just say s-” Her mouth was quickly silenced by the figure beside her, his lips forming over hers as he pressed her onto her back again, his face hovering over hers as he drew a few inches away from her.
“I always wanna kiss you,” John whispered as he brushed more strands of unkempt hair from her face, his other hand drifting south.
“What else do you wanna do to me?” she questioned, sucking her lower lip between her teeth as she watched his gaze wander, the modesty he'd provided quickly reversing as he dragged the sheets back down her body.
“I don't think that's a question I should answer honestly,” he confessed, his fingertips drifting over her exposed stomach, lips quirking into a smile when he heard the emptiness gurgle from inside. “You shouldn't have turned your nose up at the tacos.”
“I wasn't about to eat food I'd just been paid to deliver,” she mumbled, wiggling a bit as she let her lightly buzzing body sink deeper against the cushy surface below. “I guess I am a little hungry.”
“So am I,” John murmured as his fingers drew invisible shapes over her soft skin. Shifting his dark eyes back to her own, he wordlessly searched for any indication of hesitance on her part. Finding none, John pressed the sheets and blankets further down her legs, toward the end of the bed, and adjusted as he leaned forward, not to her mouth, but to her bare midriff. His lips formed a smile against her skin as he heard more gurgling, and he pressed a soft kiss to the softer flesh, hands grasping at her thigh and clavicle, blindly, as she twitched against him from the tickle of his scruff against her naked skin.
“John?” she gasped out his name as his lips speckled her skin with feather-light kisses, trailing up the center, nudging her tank higher with the tip of his nose, kissing along the undersides of her breasts, gripping the thin fabric in his teeth to drag it up to her collarbone. When she began to speak his name again, he cut her off with another kiss, his lips softer than they had any right to be, the tip of his tongue grazing hers as his large hand traveled the opposite direction, disappearing below the waistband of the shorts she'd slept in.
“I promise to last more than fifteen seconds,” he whispered as his mouth inched along her jaw, her throat, his blunt fingernails dragging along the junction of her panties.
“I don't suppose you have any condoms,” Nikki prodded as the man above her tugged at her pajama bottoms, dragging them past her knees and tossing them away.
“Of course I do,” he answered as he settled his weight on an elbow again, gazing down at her eyes and not the mounds of soft flesh he'd uncovered. “I'm not completely irresponsible,” he continued, leaning over her to the small table beside the bed and drawing out an opened, black cardboard box.
“Anymore?” she mumbled as he dug out a few portions of sealed wrappers, dropping the box back into the drawer. John's eyes found hers again, and he was silent for a few seconds before he mumbled a brief 'Yeah'. “Sorry,” she immediately retorted. Now wasn't exactly the time to dig up his past.
“No, don't...don't be sorry. I know I've caused women...more than my fair share of trouble,” he admitted, his gaze drifting to her bare arm, and the various lines of scars that marred it.
“I hope you don't think those are over y-” Nikki spoke up, beginning to cross her arms over her stomach, but his hand was at her wrist before she could manage, drawing it up to his lips instead, pressing prickly kisses against her scarred forearm.
“These are the last,” he murmured, his mouth tracing over the carved lines, his words met with silence, her free arm finally sweeping over him to glide her fingers through his silky hair.
"Are you gonna be something else for me to regret?" she managed, and his lips left her skin as he glanced back up her body, her eyes focused on his own. His body shifted again, abandoning the collection of healing scars to seek out her lips once more, both her hands in his hair as he hovered over her.
"I hope not,” he breathed, his hand reaching up to cup her cheek, stilling in the air when she caught it with one of her own. “Do you still wanna-”
The hand still buried in his hair fisted in his chestnut strands, encouraging him back to her mouth as her other hand guided his lower, his digits slipping beneath the barrier of her modesty, two of them pressing inside. When her lips parted from the welcome intrusion, he prodded inside with his tongue, sweeping over hers as his fingers curled inside, the smaller hand that had directed his cupping him through the stretchy fabric, encouraging him deeper. “Are you still hungry?” she mumbled against his lips, and he groaned in answer, his mouth deserting hers to descend lower, taking the opportunity to suck a taut bud between his lips, trailing his mouth down her stomach, his fingers gliding out of her just to drag her panties down to her ankles. She breathed his name as he grasped her knee and dragged it to one side, her hand in his hair again as he descended, his bicep draping over her hip and his arm circling her thigh as he held her legs apart, and buried his face between them.
Nikki's breaths were unsteady and staggered as she melted against the mattress and John's strong arms, her fingers massaging lazily in his mussed hair as he lapped at her needy flesh, her hips rising and falling as much as his embrace would allow. When John felt slender fingers reaching for the waistband of his boxers, he smacked lightly at the thigh in his grip, drawing his mouth away from her glistening folds to speak. “I'm here for you, Nikki...just let yourself be a little selfish for once,” he insisted, his left hand gripping her firmly as his right snaked around, two of his digits disappearing inside her again as his mouth descended back over her. Redirecting her hand to his back, she scratched lightly at his skin as his fingers curled inside her, stroking slow and steady as he suckled at her tiny pearl, slicked his patchy beard in her juices. Her body twitched at the tiniest flick, every breath audible. “Is that the edible?” he asked as his left hand ghosted over her thigh, and watched as he felt her tremble at the feather touch. “Is that what they do to you? Even I'm not arrogant enough to think that's just me,” he confessed.
“It's, uh...it's both,” she admitted, whimpering when he withdrew his fingers from inside, sucking the fluids from those fingers when he raised them to her lips. “They make my body feel like it's...like I'm effervescent...like I'm fizzy all over, all twitchy...and it makes me ache inside,” she continued, but her words stumbled when he guided his fingers back inside her, pumping and stroking at her walls, and the constant flexing around his digits.
“A good ache?” John murmured as he continued to watch her face, brows drawn together, eyes squinting even in their closed state, bottom lip trembling as her whole body seemed to twitch of its own accord. She only nodded in answer, her breaths pushing with force from her throat as her throbbing insides clung to his digits. “And you knew this would happen before you ate it,” he continued, his concern over her state of mind at massive conflict with his urge to bury his face between her thighs until she screamed his name to the dump of an apartment complex.
“I figured...if it only lasted fifteen seconds again-uhh...” her whole body seemed to shake as his digits kicked into turbo, aggressively stroking at her fleshy walls, leaving her a quivering mess. “I...At least I'd have a good time, too,” she concluded, John drawing out his fingers again to trace circles over her clit, his body lining back up beside hers as he kept his slick fingers against her sensitive flesh.
“After all your protesting, tonight?” John whispered as he neared her ear, sucking the pierced lobe between his lips as his fingers continued to work at her needy bud. “And what if I'd been a gentleman?” he pressed, and she glanced up at him, glazed in a light sheen of sweat despite the cool weather outside, multiple fingers buried to the hilt inside her, the evidence of his 'interest' straining against his boxers.
“You're a lot of things,” Nikki mumbled as she pushed up onto her elbows, meeting his lips with hers as his fingers worked her insides, ever nearer to her breaking point, relentless in his efforts. “A gentleman is not one of them.”
“Hope that's not a deal-breaker,” John rasped as he pressed her back down against the sheets, his fingers speeding up even more as he stroked at her clit from the inside, twitched his thumb against it from the outside, and her arms shot around his shoulder and neck as her hips began to spasm, and her noisy breaths graduated into screams, stifled only by John's mouth as he consumed her cries, her walls convulsing around his digits until he finally drew them away. The forty-something aged man watched with fascination as she continued to twitch, the aftershocks of her drug-influenced orgasm capturing his attention. “Wow,” he finally murmured as he raked a hand over her thigh, gripping gently at the soft flesh. “Are they always like that?”
“Not always,” Nikki whispered, watching him watch her. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt admired like this, like she did around him. How much time had she wasted, stewing over that one lackluster night?
When his eyes finally rose back up to hers, he returned the smile that had formed across her lips. “What?” he asked simply, and his eyes followed her hand as she reached toward the bedside table closest to her, grasping at a small, sealed pouch and passing it over to his expectant palm. “You sure?” he breathed, his other hand at his hip, thumb tucked into the elastic waistband, waiting for her assurance. “ 'Cause we don't have to-”
“Do you not want to?” she cut in, pushing back up onto her elbows again, eyes trained on his.
“Do I...does it look like I don't want to?” he queried, shoving his boxers down his hips, the proof of his interest bobbing, proud and ready. Kicking off his only shred of clothes and flopping down on his back, willing her to join him, John gritted his teeth as she slid her slick sex along his bare cock. “Ah, fuck...that's not fair,” he hissed as he tore open the pouch and dragged its contents over his member. “Come on, sweetheart...get over here,” he beckoned, his hand on her hip, thrusting up into the air when she slid herself against him once more. “Please, baby...don't just tease me,” he huffed, his head falling back against the sheet-clad layer of foam as she finally took him in to herself, and his hands immediately landed on her hips as she began to move.
“John?” he heard his name as she slid along him, Nikki grinding atop him as he lie below her, letting her use him as she pleased.
“Mmm...yes, baby,” he murmured as he thrust up from below, slow and steady, careful of the delicate creature blessing him with the embrace of her body and her nethers.
“Promise me you won't cum inside?” she whispered as she leaned over him, his hands clutching at her thighs, barely conscious of her words.
“Sweetheart, how would I even...Nikki, please don't st-,” his words muddled at the loss of her warmth around him through the latex, the sudden chill of autumn air, and the slick embrace of her bare walls as she tossed the condom she'd snatched off of him away, and plunged herself upon him. “Oh, fuck...oh, f-...Nikki, what are y-ughh,” he groaned, his hands returning to her hips as she ground against him. “F-...Fuck!” he snarled, and in seconds, Nikki found her own back against the bed, her feet dangling in the air above them both as John took control, burying himself over and over again inside her welcoming walls. “Please tell me you're on...s-someth-ugh,” he gasped out, words failing him as he sheathed himself inside her. Fuck, no wonder I came too fucking fast last time.
“Of...of course,” she struggled to get her words out as he pummeled into her. “Just don't...don't-umph,” Nikki tried and failed to form coherent words.
“Nikki,” he breathed as his gaze fell to where their bodies met, watched with a half-lidded gaze as she swallowed up everything he had, and rutted against him for more. “Don't go,” John rasped out.
“Don't...John?” she whimpered as his pace began to falter, as his hips jerked aggressively, his breath hot against her throat as he leaned in closer, her legs wrapping securely around his waist.
“Stay with me,” he huffed out, her hands gripping his ass as the edge of the mattress began to smack noisily against the wall. “Tomorrow...and the next day...and the next...until you're sick of me,” he implored, punctuating each pause with a kiss against her flushed skin. His voice became a growl as he suddenly snapped his hips away, managed only a few strokes before spilling over her stomach, breath coming out in puffs as he collapsed beside her, his hand immediately reaching out for hers.
* * *
“Mmm...too early,” Nikki mumbled as she felt the mattress beneath her shift, bright light filtering in from the curtain-less window above, grabbing a fistful of bedding and pulling it up over her head. It had been a few weeks since she'd woken up to something below her that wasn't a couch, and was grateful for the expansive room as she stretched her naked body out beneath the top sheet.
“It's almost ten,” came a very familiar voice, accompanied by a hand larger than her own, dragging the sheet down a few inches to expose her eyes.
“You kept me up 'til four,” Nikki whispered, staring into John's umber eyes where he crouched at the side of the non-bed, though nothing about her tone expressed regret of that fact.
“I don't remember you complaining,” he quipped, resting his chin on the edge of the mattress, and Nikki shuffled her body his way until she was close enough to steal his minty kiss. She dragged the sheets back up immediately after, suspecting her breath was likely far less fresh.
“Still not,” she murmured from beneath the linens, closing her eyes contentedly as he reached out to brush her sleep-mussed hair away from her face. “Are you kicking me out or something?”
“Hmm?” John let out a surprised noise, continuing to watch her from his spot on the floor.
“You've never struck me as the 'early riser' type,” she explained, flopping onto her back as she flexed her legs, all the way down to her toes.
“You consider ten in the morning early?”
“Early for you,” she clarified, groaning as she finally sat up, clutching the sheets to her chest, her bare back on full display. “Am I wrong?”
John didn't move from his spot on the floor, just crossed his arms and leaned more of his weight on the mattress. “You're not,” he finally admitted, and Nikki's brows knit together in confusion.
“John, I'm not awake enough for whatever-”
“I want you to stay,” he finally admitted, and the confusion on her face grew more pronounced.
“John-”
“I meant it when I said it last night, and...I know you think I'm a fuck up without a future-”
“I didn't say-”
“But...I also know that I care about you, and I want...I wanna be with you...you make me wanna be...less of a piece of shit,” John explained, a charming, lazy smile across his lips.
Nikki was silent for several moments, staring at him from her hunched over, mostly naked position on the makeshift bed, considering him. It wasn't until he reached a hand out to grasp one of hers that she finally spoke up. “I'm not interested in just being someone's roommate-with-benefits,” she began, and he shook his head, looking as if he were about to speak again. “And...you're getting a fucking job,” she continued, and he nodded, Nikki staring him directly in the eyes, silently relieved to find sincerity in them. “And...”
“And?” John repeated when her words came to a pause.
“And when you qualify for health coverage, you're getting a damned vasectomy,” she stated firmly, narrowing her eyes when the man beside her began to chuckle.
“Alright, yes...I can...I will do all of that,” he finally confirmed, reaching out with his other hand until both of them grasped her smaller one. “But...maybe we can start with calling up your friends and renting a U-Haul to move your stuff out of your apartment?” he proposed, watching her features for signs of hesitance.
Nikki watched him intently, dragging her bottom lip between her teeth as she considered him, letting out a breath though her nose, before she gave the tiniest nod.
“Yeah?” John asked, his brows and his hope raising as he studied her features.
Nikki continued to watch him, her slight nod becoming more pronounced as her eyes began to glisten, tears of relief forming in the corners as she accepted his arms when he crawled onto the bed to sweep her up in his embrace. She wasn't sure how much she believed he could grow up on her behalf and his own as he held her naked body so tightly in his arms, his lips against her forehead, the corners of her eyes, salty against her mouth.
Nikki didn't know what a future with John held, but she felt something she hadn't in months : relief.
Okay, FIRST of all, IMMACULATE. I’m such a sucker for anything that feels nostalgic and drenched in late-night feels, and this served it all on a silver platter. It’s so atmospheric, and you can literally feel the tension and yearning between Nikki and John.
THEU FUCKING DIALOGUE IS FUCKING AMAZING
I love the banter that only you can write so fucking well. Like it feels so natural and real and makes me love the characters (especially Nikki) even more because it makes them so much more relatable.
John Woodruff... LIKE PLEASE, HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO FUNCTION AFTER THIS?? uhm he's such a mess but he's tryinggggggg NIKKI GIVE HIM A CHANCE but with a grain of salt because I don't trust him either.
Nikki really yeeted that condom though lmao same girl sameeee
John begging her to stay whilst being balls deep in her??? Nikki's sass the next morning calling him out on not being an early bird and making him get a job???
I love her so much and although I'd be a hoe for John, if he fucking breaks her heart, I am going to nail him to a tree by the balls. Nikki is so fucking precious and I WILL DEFEND HER TOOTH AND NAIL
An Exercise in Control - Cooper Adams/Abbott x Fem OC
* Part ? : A Winter's Interlude *
So...I am currently on day 4 of dealing with what I assume to be a cold, and since I'm feeling pretty wretched, and have no one to show me the slightest hint of care IRL, I thought I'd write a little something with Cooper taking care of my OC when she's sick. Slight spoilers, as this takes place after the main story (that is not yet completed). All you need to know if that Delilah has, at this point, found out Cooper is The Butcher, and she is living in her own apartment now. That's pretty much it outside of what is already in the posted chapters 1-3. Gif is mine.
CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2 CHAPTER 3
(( word count ~ 1,700 ))
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“Hey, man, she's not here today.” Cooper heard the words come out of the bookstore employee's mouth before he registered they were directed at himself, and he swerved around on the spot toward the younger man.
“Excuse me?” he asked, his expression neutral. Cooper had encountered the young man before, and didn't love the fact that he happened to be his girl's co-worker, but he knew he wasn't a threat.
“Delilah? You're lookin' for her, right?” the younger man clarified. “She called in sick.”
“Is that so?” Cooper replied, his hand digging into his pocket for his phone, seeing no missed messages or calls when he checked the screen. Is she was sick, it was news to him.
* * *
“I'm...I'm coming,” a hoarse voice sounded from inside the small studio apartment that Delilah resided in when she wasn't at work, or at Cooper's house. “Sorry, the app isn't updating, I guess,” she croaked as she unbolted the lock, dragging the chain away, and opened the door to a far more familiar face than she expected. “Cooper?” she whimpered, her voice barely recognizable, as she stared up at the looming man, a look on his face she'd never seen so transparently – selfless and full of blatant concern.
“Why didn't you tell me?” The Butcher asked as he began to reach a large hand out, his movements stilling as he was met with a crackling cough.
“It's not a big deal,” she mumbled, continuing to stand in the doorway, grasping the frame and the solid wood, blocking his entrance. “It's just a c-” she began to insist, but another noisy cough cut into her words, and her grip on the door in her grasp weakened, Cooper taking the opportunity to infiltrate the diminutive apartment. “It's just a cold,” she insisted as she pressed her body weight against the door, shoving it closed again after her failure to keep her boyfriend out of her living space.
“I don't care if it's just a cold. You should have told me,” he insisted, his tone commanding, as he glanced over his surroundings. He'd spent more hours in the little apartment than he could count, but he'd never seen it so disheveled. Looking back to his paramour, he realized he'd never seen her quite so disheveled either, as least not under circumstances that didn't involve himself, and his seductive control over her. Sex was the last thing on his mind, however, as he looked her over. “Baby, you should have told me,” he spoke again, his voice far softer as he strode the short distance between them and pulled her into his jacket-covered arms before she could vocally protest.
“Cooper, sto-” Delilah began, but another round of rattling coughs escaped, her face warm, her eyes glistening when he pulled away just enough to peer down at her. “I don't...I don't wanna get you sick, too,” she rasped, but The Butcher was having none of that.
“I'm not worried about getting sick,” he insisted, his eyes darting back to the door at the sudden sound of knocking.
“It's my delivery,” she mumbled as he abandoned his hold on her to return to the door, opening it to find a stranger holding bags of food.
* * *
Cooper took control of the situation, despite Delilah's protests, instructing her to get in the shower while he set to work, shuffling through her collection of medicines, and ordering up various caplets and cough syrups for another delivery. Making a quick sweep of the apartment, he gathered up used tissue boxes and overflowing bags of their previous contents, freezing for a moment every time he heard a series of coughs sound from the bathroom. By the time he stepped into the steam-filled room, Delilah had given up on standing, and he found her instead sitting in the middle of the tub with the hot water pulsing against her bare back.
“Cooper, I'm serious, I don't w-” she began to protest again when he pushed the door closed behind himself, watched as he began to strip off his security guard uniform, fold it up and set it on the corner of the sink.
“I told you,” he retorted as he stripped down to nothing, and shoved aside the translucent curtain to reveal the equally nude young woman inside. “I'm not worried about me getting sick...now, stand up, sweetheart, let's get you clean.” Cooper stepped into the shower and grasped her hands for leverage, caught her against his body when her feet nearly gave way below her, and felt her warm, wet frame collapse against his.
“Cooper...” she murmured as he set about cleansing her, applying shampoo to her hair and working it through as her hands clung to his shoulders, head handing forward, staring at their feet. Every part of him really was so much bigger than her equivalent.
“It's okay,” he answered, gripping the detachable shower head to rinse her hair clean. He repeated the process to re-shampoo, condition, and cleanse her body, his actions thorough but surprisingly chaste. “We'll have to do this again when you're feeling better,” he quipped, grasping her carefully by her waist and turning her around to rinse the suds away. She nodded slowly, content to simply stand in the moist heat and feel his hands on her. Delilah was visibly disappointed when he finally turned the water off. “We can't stand in here forever, sweetheart. Your hot water is already running low,” he noted, and she nodded but spoke no words. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes watering as he began to towel her off, and Cooper felt her arms wrap around his waist when he worked his way back up to towel at her hair. Despite the seriousness of their predicament, his cock began to twitch to life at the press of her nude body against his, and he let out a sigh.
“I must not look that bad,” she mumbled, lying her temple against his chest, his strong arms wrapping about her and holding her even closer.
“Of course not,” he whispered as he rested his chin lightly against her crown. “But you sound miserable, baby.”
“I feel miserable,” she confirmed, closing her eyes, the fatigue of her body and mind making her even more compliant to his wishes than usual. A knock at the door, however, drew them both out of their moment of peace. “What's that?” she mumbled softly, before a cough took hold of her once more.
“Medicine,” Cooper stated, and her eyes were even more bleary as she looked up at him. “You can't expect to get better on nothing but soup and expired cough syrup.” She could do little but nod in defeat.
“Sorry,” she whispered, and he shook his head slightly, lifting the towel back up to place it over her damp hair, massaging gently.
“Don't be sorry, baby,” Cooper uttered as he tended to her. “Just...let me know, next time. There's no point in you suffering alone when I'm a text away,” he continued.
“I'm just-” another cough cut her off, and Cooper placed a palm against the middle of her shoulder blades, feeling her rattle against him. “I'm just not used to asking for help.”
“I'm aware,” he murmured, and she glanced back up at him, a weak smile on her lips. “But you've gotten used to a lot of things, lately, right?” She nodded, and he continued. “And this is no different. I want you to come to me when you need me...not hide away because...why were you hiding this from me, anyway?” Cooper asked suddenly. “I know it's not just you thinking you don't need help.”
Before she could answer, Delilah let out a noisy sneeze, closing her eyes tight, covering her face with her hands as Cooper ripped off some toilet paper and pressed it into her palm. “This,” she mumbled before blowing her nose into the paper, hearing the sound of her congestion in her chest and behind her ears. “I didn't want you to see me, you know...gross,” she admitted. Cooper stepped back as Delilah padded around to drop the used paper into the wastebasket, and she was surprised to see a serene smile on Cooper's lips when she glanced back at him. “What?”
“Baby, you're not gross. You're adorable-”
“No, I'm not-”
“Yes, you are...even when you're a mucus-y mess,” his smile broadened when her face flushed more, shaking her head and turning away from him to grab another towel, hanging from the curtain rod.
* * *
The sun had begun to set by the time the couple reemerged from the bathroom, and Cooper collected the delivered bag of medicines from outside, as Delilah dressed herself in the set of pajamas her Butcher boyfriend had laid out for her. Re-heated chicken noodle soup followed, along with a cap of revolting cough syrup, and promises that the flavor was worth the results. By the time the sky had darkened into inky black, the couple found themselves cuddled up on Delilah's bed, oversized soup bowl in hand, watched a short-lived television series she'd seen a dozen times over, neither occupant invested much in what played on the laptop screen.
Tissues were massacred unendingly by Delilah's nose, but the congested coughs became less frequent to her relief from the hideous cap of medicated liquid. Her throat scratchy, and made worse from talking, Delilah became mostly silent as she lay against the heat of Cooper's chest, his large hands grazing over her thighs and arms for comfort. Despite Delilah's concern over passing her sickness on to him, he had budged not an inch in his resolve, content to simply hold her.
“Are you staying the night?” she murmured against his cotton shirt, her breath coming out in warm puffs against the fabric.
“Of course...are you going to take care of me when I get sick with whatever you have?” Cooper whispered as his hands continued to stroke her limbs, Delilah tilting her head to gaze up at him, and the calm comfort of his features.
“Of course.”
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COMMENTS AND REBLOGS AND TAGS ARE DEEPLY APPRECIATED.💙
This fic is honestly like a dreamy swirl of angst, tension, and the kind of slow-burn romance that makes you want to scream in the best way possible.
Cooper is such a whole vibe—like, he’s infuriatingly broody but also has these moments of softness and tender car like yeah he might be a serial killer but also like he takes such good care of her though???
What an AMAZING job balancing all that simmering tension with just the right amount of soft, swoony moments. I caught myself grinning like an idiot during the shower scene like where can i find a man like this??? and then clutching my chest at him getting her medicine too
And the writing itself?? Don't even get me started because I always tell you how fucking talented you are. Poetic but not in a way that feels too much like it’s the perfect mix of feels and readability. The way you capture the tiny details, the subtle glances, the electricity between the characters. I could fucking screammmmmm🖤🔥
Me : I definitely have a healthy amount of restraint and self-respect
Also me : I am absolutely gonna fucking write an incredibly self-indulgent dubious consent Lucas x OC x Cooper threesome smut-fic, because I can, and I must >_<
I absolutely adore this cute holiday picrew and would love to have people decorate my tree!!🎄
hope everyone enjoys their holidays!
no pressure tagging; @sizzlingcloudmentality, @gyllenhaalstories, @another-supernova-girl, @caffeineplusmypen, @cassiopeia-grimm, @unlicensed-queer,@ascorpionstale and anyone else who would like to join in!
hes one of my favourites and i can never find any fics for him:(
i love your writing for jake i check if youve posted all the time!💘
awwwh thank you so much!
I don't know if I'll be writing for that character. I haven't seen that movie and idk i just don't find him so intriguing? but maybe i'll watch it and maybe that'll change.
baldJake!supremacy 4ever @charliehoennam - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
