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jessy02 · 9 days ago

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Oh wyatt... Is he someone who is interested in a purely sexual... No.. He's sweet, sensitive, kinda funny and... fucking sexy!! Lex, you can't run away!☺️

Bleed American - Wyatt Walker ("Ida Red" 2021) x Fem OC

* Part 1 : Salt *

I'm taking a short break from my Cooper Abbott fic to indulge in another Hartnett character that I had actually started writing for before I watched Trap. This is canon divergent from the last, oh, 30 minutes of the movie (where Ida gets paroled as agreed upon, so Wyatt and Dallas don't have to do the violent plane theft job, and Dallas doesn't have to die, and Wyatt doesn't have to go to prison 💙). Feel free to check out my Josh Hartnett masterlist for all my writing of his characters so far. Comments and reblogs with unique are very appreciated (I'm sorry if I don't respond, I do see them and read them all and they give me about the only serotonin I have left these days). Gif is mine .Also...I really hate onions.

(( word count ~ 6,800 ))

“I'm...I know, I'm sorry, just...can't you just come pick me up?” Darla whined into the phone, to her older brother, knowing that calling up her so-called 'mom' or 'dad' was more than she was ready to deal with, after the events of the night so far. She glanced over to the woman at her side, sitting on the edge of the stage, an apologetic look on her face as she waited for the voice on the other end to speak up. After a few moments, she started nodding, spewing thank you's and more sorry's, and disconnected the call, letting out a breath. “My brother an' my uncle are gonna come pick me up,” she confirmed as she slipped her phone into her pocket. “I'm sorry for makin' you wait.”

“It's okay...I just wanna make sure you get home safe.”

* * *

“Alright, baby girl, I can't wait to hear an explanation,” Wyatt Walker's voice rang out as he stepped into the mostly empty building, his uncle, Dallas Walker, at his back, the two of them glancing around for signs of life.

“I didn't do nothin' wrong,” Darla vocalized her defense, Wyatt and Dallas following her voice until they reached the main room of the establishment, featuring a bar, several tables pushed back toward the walls, and a small stage for live music, serving as a perch for Darla, and a young woman neither of her relatives had ever laid eyes on.

“No, 'course not, someone else-” Dallas spoke up, but Darla's nervous voice piped up again.

“Ask Lex, she'll tell you! I didn't...it wasn't my fault,” she huffed, crossing her arms and looking to the non-relative at her side for back-up. “Lex?”

Wyatt and Dallas both directed their dark eyes to the stranger, who suddenly looked quite nervous herself. “I...well, it's true,” Lex uttered, and Darla threw her arms up as if that were the end of the conversation, hopping off the edge of the stage and walking toward one of the tables to grab her bag, leaving the stranger alone with the two men before her. Dallas watched as she wandered away, his gaze quickly gravitating toward the bar, which he began to approach, leaving his nephew alone with the stranger.

“Lex, huh?” Wyatt spoke up as he eyed her casually, reaching his hand out, and carefully grasping hers when she took it and hopped down.

“Alexandria,” she mumbled, her eyes darting toward the teenage girl as she snagged a bar stool and sat upon it to grab a beer she was definitely not legally old enough to drink next to her uncle, who grabbed a bottle of the same.

“Alexandria,” Wyatt repeated, nodding as she extracted her hand from his, and following her as she walked across the empty room to join the other two. “So what excitement did we miss tonight that you couldn't call your mama about-”

“She ain't my mama-” Darla murmured, and Wyatt closed his eyes, his expression becoming momentarily tense as he sat down.

“You know what I mean,” he answered, but his gruff demeanor quickly faltered as he glanced at his little sister. He couldn't stay mad at her, not for much of anything. “Well, we ain't gonna get the truth outta this one,” he declared, shifting his gaze instead to the new acquaintance. “How 'bout you?”

Lex opened her mouth briefly before closing it again without a noise. She hadn't expected a conversation, just a confirmation that the girl was in safe hands so she could head back to her motel room.

“Well, damn, Wyatt, you're makin' her nervous,” Dallas spoke up, and Lex followed the voice to the man farthest from her. “What was your name, sweetheart?” he asked, reaching out a hand that Lex tentatively grasped.

“Lex,” she mumbled, and the eldest of the quartet nodded.

“Well, I'm Dallas, I'm Darla's uncle, and this is Wyatt, her brother. He ain't usually this rude,” he concluded, and Wyatt let out an audible breath. “Why don't you tell us what went down?”

“Well...,” Lex began again, licking her uncomfortably dry lips, not even slightly more at ease than she had been before she knew their names. “We were on stage-”

“We?” Wyatt asked immediately.

“Yeah, my band and I-”

“You're in a band?” Dallas inquired, surprised, though he supposed the vibrantly dyed purple hair and calloused hand he'd shaken made more sense in retrospect.

“Yeah, we suck. Anyway,” she continued before she could be cut off again, “we were playing, and I saw this girl,” she quickly indicated Darla, “getting groped by some guy in the crowd, and it was pretty obvious she wasn't about it, so I stopped the show and had security pull him on stage, and...”

There was silence for a few seconds before Wyatt's voice sounded, repeating her last word, “And?”

“And, I...tased him in the crotch,” she admitted, shrugging her shoulders at the male grunts on either side of her.

“Twice,” Darla added, Wyatt looking to his youngest sister, Dallas taking another swig of beer.

“I asked him if he knew how old she was, and he said something about how she was dressed, and it was pretty clear the message hadn't sunk in,” she continued, “so I electrocuted him until he couldn't stand up.”

“Well, that's...not what I expected,” Dallas declared, setting his bottle down, glancing to the musician, and his nephew beside her. “And where's this guy now?”

“Um...no idea? But, uh...” she paused, shifting her weight on the stool and reaching into one of her back pockets to pull out a government-issued piece of plastic, and placing it in Dallas' hand when he reached out for it. “I snagged his license, in case she decided to press charges, after all, and I asked security to remove him. I figured it was safest for Darla, here,” she acknowledged, reaching to grasp the teenager's hand, “if she had someone trustworthy come pick her up, just in case.” She heard the seat beside her squeak under the brother's weight, and glanced his way reflexively.

“Well, that's awfully upstanding of you,” he drawled, his face seeming a bit kinder than it had the last time she'd looked his way.

“Well, we...try to make sure wherever we play if a safe space for the girls and the gays, so...” she shrugged again, finding it harder this time to look away from him.

“Well, on behalf of the girls, and, uh...” he motioned to his uncle, who raised his beer in acknowledgment, before taking another drink, “ the gays, that's much appreciated.”

Lex glanced Dallas' way and let out a light chuckle, eyes drifting back to Darla, who seemed more at ease after the vocal explanation. “Well, anyway, you're here now, and I'm sure she's in good hands, and I really should be go-”

“Well, hold up, now. Where do you think you're going,” Wyatt cut in before Dallas could, the two men clearly on the same page as they caught each other's gaze.

“...Away?” Lex hedged, easing off her bar stool.

“Nah, we can't have that,” Wyatt stated as he reached out, snagging a belt loop on her jeans with one finger. “You saved our girl, here. Least we can do is buy you dinner,” he offered, though with his digit clinging to the loop at her hip, it seemed more like a demand. “You hungry? Dallas, you hungry? Darla?”

“Starved,” Dallas declared, Darla nodding, looking to Lex for her answer.

“I...I guess.”

* * *

“Are they always that intense?” Lex asked the teen at her side as she drove behind Dallas' car, toward the 24-hour diner they had suggested, having declined the offer to ride along in the same vehicle as both of the men.

“I guess...I mean, not really...sorta,” Darla mumbled, playing with the charm on her necklace as she watched their surroundings from the passenger seat. “Dallas is always kinda crazy...Wyatt was actin' kinda weird, though,” she admitted.

“Like he expected you to be the cause of the trouble?” Lex ventured, glancing briefly to her side, before her gaze flitted back to the road.

Darla let out a soft laugh before answering, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“You run to them for help a lot?”

“Wyatt, mostly. He was my favorite uncle, and then I found out he's actually my brother, and...it's just confusin', I guess. He still backs me up, though,” Darla continued. “He ain't mean, or nothin'. I think he's just been stressed out. Guess I ain't exactly helpin'.” The conversation dwindled to a mostly comfortable silence as Lex's car continued to follow Dallas', the restaurant finally coming into view, to her relief.

* * *

“Ah, not the salad. Don't tell me you're one of those girls,” Dallas chided as Lex flipped through the menu and landed in the health-conscious section of the laminated booklet. “Get some meat on them bones, girl!”

“Do you have any idea how much fast food I get stuck eating on the road? I am cheeseburger-ed out,” she retorted, glancing to the elder of the two men, before returning to the description to figure what she'd need to have left out. She wasn't about to sit and pick out onions from her greens in front of these people.

“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled, taking a swig of beer from a new bottle provided by the diner, another reason she'd chosen not to ride with the men.

Somehow, she'd managed to find herself in the middle of a round booth, in much the same layout of group members from the bar : Wyatt, herself, Darla and Dallas. How it kept happening this way, she wasn't sure, and regardless of how obnoxiously handsome both of these men were, she couldn't shake her discomfort.

“You spend a lot of time on the road?” Wyatt spoke up, and Lex glanced his way before shifting her eyes back to the menu. His presence had felt intimidating in the shadowy bar that doubled as her band's venue for the night, but in the florescent light of the diner, he was even harder to look away from. It took a conscious effort not to stare, and his arms outstretched, resting along the upholstered edge of the booth seating, and nearly at the back of her neck, wasn't helping.

“We mostly do local venues, but when we leave the city, we try to schedule as many stops as we can to get the most out of the trip,” she answered, taking a drink of water.

“And what's local?” he continued, reaching with the hand not inches from her shoulder to push his hair out of his face.

“Um...Oklahoma City,” she confirmed, and he nodded, as did Dallas.

“ 'Bout a hundred miles away,” the older of the two acknowledged, and she nodded. “How you like it, down there?”

“I don't,” Lex uttered immediately, which earned her glances from both men, before the entire table lifted their gaze at the approaching, elderly waitress, each guest proceeding to rattle off their order, ending with Lex, who specified what she did and didn't want on her salad, and feeling the eyes on her from the inhabitants of the table, finishing off her order with, “and a banana shake.” After the waitress disappeared again, Lex glanced to Dallas' smirking face. “Happy?” He shrugged in response.

“Sure...I'm gonna judge you on those onions though-”

“My mother made it her mission to put onions in almost everything she could, okay? I hate them. I'll always hate them, and you can't make me feel bad about it,” she cut in defensively, Dallas' smirk widening, Wyatt remaining silent as his limbs shifted slightly, his tanned arm brushing against her neck, the ends of her purple ponytail tickling his skin.

“Alright!” Dallas exclaimed, throwing his hands up in defense. “So, anyway...what's it like, being a rock star?” he inquired, receiving an eye roll from Lex, though Darla's attention perked up at the question.

“I...couldn't tell you,” Lex admitted with a small laugh, shaking her head slightly.

“Not the fake modestly,” Dallas protested, but Lex shook her head, firm in her convictions.

“No, really...I mean, you saw how tiny that stage was, right? How small that venue was? No, if you wind up at one of our shows, it's probably by accident,” Lex explained, taking another drink.

“Well...you look the part, at least,” Wyatt suddenly spoke up, and Lex felt his hand graze the back of her neck, playing at the ends of her dyed hair.

“Yeah, I guess,” Lex murmured, unsure how she felt about the physical attention. He still unnerved her, maybe even more than the older man at the other end of the booth.

“So...” Dallas spoke up again, his eyes shifting to his nephew, and back to the new acquaintance, “what's the deal? Can't play your instruments of somethin'?”

“Because we're a girl band?” Lex asked suddenly, head tilting, eyes slightly narrowed. “Because girls can't play their instruments?” When Dallas shrugged, she shook her head slightly and relaxed more fully against the upholstered seating, Wyatt's arm drifting back around the edge again, the nape of her neck against his sleeve. “We currently have three guys, and me, by the way. I'm the only girl.”

“Currently?” Wyatt's voice again.

“Yeah, that's, uh...that's kinda part of the problem. We're constantly losing and gaining and swapping members. I think I've been with them the longest at this point. We mostly do covers, though, so it doesn't really matter who's playing or singing or whatever,” she finished.

“And that doesn't bother you?” Wyatt asked suddenly, Lex turning to look in his direction, to the chocolate brown eyes that hid in the shadow of his brow.

“Um...some days, I suppose. I guess I...I was never really a songwriter. I mostly just wanted to learn to play the songs I already loved, from other bands. Certainly not itching to get famous or anything.”

* * *

The conversation carried on steadily until their meals came, and a mostly comfortable silence filled their corner of the diner as they ate, Dallas and Wyatt finally shifting some down the booth so everyone could stretch their arms and eat comfortably. In the midst of finishing their meals, Lex cleared her throat and mumbled an “excuse me”, indicating for Wyatt to move so she could exit the booth, the younger man slipping out and stepping around to the other side to sit by his uncle until she returned. As soon as she slipped through the women's bathroom door, Lex put her weight against it, and the back of her shirt slid against the glossy wood until she sat on the tile floor, taking a deep breath.

When she'd pulled the creep on stage to humiliate him and zap him with her taser-like stun gun, she never expected the rest of her evening to turn into this. She certainly had no regrets in saving Darla, of course, as she'd hope that anyone on stage who saw such behavior would do the same, but...she had not signed up for this, sitting at a table in some secluded diner in the middle of the night with a couple of 'good ol' boys'. Regardless of how admittedly attractive both of them were, they were intense and intimidating, and she had not felt comfortable since the moment they'd walked into the venue that night. “Just a little longer...it's almost over, I'm almost free,” she mumbled to herself as she sat with her face in her hands, cross-legged on the floor. She wondered briefly how much charge was left in her little stun gun.

Deciding she might as well make the most of her time away from the group, she quickly used the facilities and rinsed off her face, swished some water around in her mouth to loosen any spare bits from the salad, checking her reflection, taking her hair down to redo it...and wondering why she was taking the time to groom herself at all, given the situation. With a last glance in the mirror, she stepped toward the door and pulled it open, and nearly yelped at what she found waiting for her.

“Jesus, fuck, what is with you two?!” she exclaimed in as hushed a tone as she could manage, confronted with Wyatt, waiting just outside the door in the narrow hallway.

“You were gone so long-” he began in his cool demeanor, but she quickly cut him off.

“And?! I don't...I don't fucking know you. I haven't done anything to you, or your uncle, or your sister. I did a nice thing, and ever since you two showed up, I feel like I'm being sized up and interrogated and shit,” she huffed, letting out the frustration she'd kept locked inside the last few hours. “What is with all this,” Lex continued, looking around to make sure there weren't more strangers approaching, “all this intimidation crap?”

Wyatt slumped against the wall behind him, though it put little distance between them, watching her thoughtfully. “Didn't realize I was-”

“Really?” Lex challenged, reaching for his waist to snag a finger around his belt loop and giving it a tug, as he had done to her at the bar. “Grabbing me like this, and hovering and touching me, that doesn't...” her words faltered as he dipped his chin to drop his gaze from her eyes to his waist, where she gripped his jeans, staring for several seconds before he extended his own hand to carefully grasp hers and draw it away.

“You're right,” he admitted, running his free hand over his chin and cheek to scratch lightly at the facial hair that decorated his skin. “It's, uh...it's been a tough year, and I suppose it's made it hard to trust people, and my own instincts. And that's got nothin' t' do with you,” he explained, running his thumb absently over her knuckle. “I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. It weren't my intention. I guess it's just...habit,” Wyatt continued, and Lex's gaze finally shifted from their connected hands, up to his face again, his pretty brown eyes framed by those charming brows. “Can we start over?”

* * *

Another half hour had passed by the time Dallas stood up to give his arms a stretch, glancing over at Wyatt and shifting his head to indicate the younger man follow him, the two of them leaving the booth to walk across the diner, toward the register to pay the bill.

“He ain't with nobody,” Darla whispered as soon as she presumed them out of earshot, and a smile spread across Lex's lips, shaking her head as she let out a breath of amusement.

“I wasn't planning on asking,” she answered, glancing over at the two men, oddly huddled together, as if in a secret conversation of their own.

“Oh, come on. You two've been making eyes at each other since...well, at least since you got back from the bathroom,” Darla protested, but Lex continued to dismiss her.

“We live a hundred miles apart-”

“So?” the teenager's voice took on a whiny tone in protest.

“And he's gotta be close to twenty years older than me-”

“Sooo?” Darla continued, as if she were speaking to one of her schoolmates.

“Annnd...” Lex whined back, a little exasperated. “We don't even know each other.”

“Well, I can give you his phone number,” Darla offered eagerly, and Lex put her elbows on the table, her face in her hands, covering her eyes as she leaned forward.

Meanwhile, across the diner, Dallas leaned on his own elbows against the varnished surface of the bar counter, his voice hushed as Wyatt leaned against the same counter at his side.

“She sure is somethin',” the older man muttered, staring at a rogue menu, considering whether of not to get a dessert to go.

“Yeah, I noticed,” Wyatt answered, staring at nothing in particular.

“I noticed you noticin',” Dallas responded, thumbing through the laminated pages. “So, you want me to...pop outside and kick her taillight in or somethin'?” When Wyatt finally looked directly at him with an indignant stare, Dallas continued. “She can't go home with a busted taillight...someone's gotta fix it so she don't get pulled over...and damned if you don't just happen to own an auto shop-”

“Yeah, Dallas, I get your meaning. I'm not an idiot,” he answered, shaking his head. “And how exactly do you think that's gonna look after the night we've had?”

“Hey, I'm not the one that decided to spend half the night acting like a dick-”

“Fuck,” Lex's voice sounded from across the diner, and both men shifted their gaze in the girls' direction.

“What's wrong?” Darla piped up, sliding out of the booth and walking toward Lex, standing directly in front of the glass entrance door. Heavy rain drops plopped down from the sky, soaking everything in sight, coating the windows of the cars in the parking lot and giving them a sheen of fog. Dallas and Wyatt had crossed the restaurant by the time she answered.

“My windshield wipers are...pretty much useless,” she huffed, leaning her forehead against the glass, water vapor collecting where she breathed against it. “I didn't exactly plan to be out until...fuck, almost 2am,” she sighed as she looked at her phone. She knew rain was on the way, she just thought she'd be able to beat it, easily.

Wyatt and Dallas were already exchanging glances by the time Darla's voice sounded again. “Well, Wyatt's got an auto shop just a couple miles away,” she explained, and Lex lifted her forehead from the glass to turn and glance over her shoulder at the two Walker men who had gathered.

* * *

“Thanks for this,” Lex mumbled as she watched the rain through the passenger window of her car, Wyatt in the driver's seat, having split up from Dallas, who'd agreed with absolutely no complaints to take Darla home.

“It's nothin',” Wyatt answered, tempted to sneak a glance at the young woman beside him, but thinking better of it with the rain coming down as hard as it was, the rubber squeegees of the wipers uselessly flopping around like spaghetti noodles as they swiped noisily across the windshield. “You saved our girl...that's worth a lot more than a salad and a milkshake.”

Lex was quiet for several moments before she spoke up again, leaning her head to the side against the upholstery of her seat. “I half expected you to lecture me for letting them get this bad,” she confessed.

“Yeah...you get this one, lecture free. I'm not your daddy. Just don't let the new ones...what?” he glanced over for the briefest second when he noticed an odd expression on her face in the periphery of his vision. She shook her head, but continued her silence. “Did I say something funny?”

“Don't worry about it,” she mumbled, glancing out the window again, a crooked smile on her lips.

True to Darla's word, not ten minutes of driving passed before Wyatt's combination auto shop and car lot came into view, Wyatt pulling in when he was near enough and driving around the back to the dock doors, Lex breathing a sigh of relief.

“See? Told you I'd get you there. I ain't got an umbrella though...can't promise you won't get wet,” he stated as he got out of the parked car and closed the door behind him, walking around the front as Lex watched him, stepping out when he opened the passenger door. “What?” he asked as he glanced briefly to her face, but stating nothing else as she followed him with narrowed eyes back around the other side to the front door. When they stepped inside, Wyatt quickly locked the door behind himself, and walked past her as she stared at him, wandering toward his office. He stopped suddenly in his tracks at the unmistakable sound of angry electricity, swerving around to look upon the young woman, still situated near the front door, grasping the device she'd zapped the creep at the concert with, earlier.

“Just testing it,” she stated simply, sliding it back into the purse she carried.

“Right...how about you find a place to sit and get comfortable, and I'll get your car in here and take a look,” he offered, wary of the small but powerful weapon, resuming his walk toward his office. Lex didn't take a step until he'd disappeared from view.

* * *

“So what do you do, when you're not playing, uh...what was it you said you played?” Wyatt's voice rang through the shop as he gathered various tools and bottles of fluid, the wipers swapped out for new ones without issue.

“A little bit of everything, mostly bass though...I didn't ask you to do that,” Lex spoke up as she realized her car was slowly rising into the air, Wyatt activating jacks underneath.

“No, you didn't...but your oil is filthy,” the mechanic declared, drawing out the dipstick to show her, Lex waving her hand as she approached.

“That's okay, I believe you,” she mumbled, putting her hands on her waist as she watched him pull up a rolling board to lie on and disappear beneath her car. Before he even touched metal with his hands, he felt himself being pulled back out, and he found the musician crouched beside him when he reappeared, her hand firm on the molded plastic his weight lay upon. “Why are you doing this?”

“Like I said, your oil is-”

“Good enough to get me home,” she cut him off, shifting her legs until she sat on the cement floor beside him. “I'm grateful for the new wipers, but you don't need to do all this.”

“It's really no big deal,” Wyatt shrugged, and vanished again when Lex loosened her grip.

“So, is this what passes for flirting up here? Topping off a girl's fluids?” she asked, leaning forward to balance her elbow on her leg, her cheek against her palm as she glanced around at her surroundings.

“You make it sound so dirty,” Wyatt's voice floated out from underneath the car.

“I saw your finger nails, you're way past dirty,” she mumbled, sliding back a bit when the little wheels beneath his body began to move and he reappeared before her, fresh grease stains on his cheek and forehead. “Definitely dirty,” she observed, but her smile was a pleasant and welcome sight to behold. “Do you need anything?”

Wyatt looked thoughtful, and he stuffed his hand in his pocket and pulled out some change, dimes and half a dozen quarters. “Why don't you go grab a drink from the vending machine.”

“That's not what I meant-”

“I know what you meant. I've got this handled, darlin', you just relax.” When she wandered off for a few minutes, and reemerged, it wasn't the sound of a can opening that met his ears, but a box full of something loose inside. “What'd you get?”

“Sour Patch Kids,” Lex declared, tearing at the thin cardboard as Wyatt slid out into view again. “What?”

“You took my Sour Patch Kids?” he asked, and she glanced down at the box. “Those are my favorites.”

“You gave me the money,” she mumbled, easing open the plastic bag inside and dumping a few pieces into her own hand.

“I said a drink,” he reminded, but there was no edge in his voice, or on his face. “Everybody around here knows the Sour Patch Kids are mine.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn't keep them in the vending machine,” she shrugged, watching as he started to reach for the box in her hands. “No, your hands are gross...here.” She plucked a piece out of the bag and hovered it over his lips, which he immediately parted, accepting the tangy treat. “Are you about done under there?”

Wyatt chewed briefly and swallowed, turning his head to glance back at her elevated car. “I guess I'm just stallin',” he finally admitted.

Lex nodded and glanced up at her car, freshly serviced and in much better shape to hit the road. “Yeah, I kinda guessed that.”

“You gotta drive home tonight?” he inquired suddenly, and something about the question felt more like a sort of invitation. She dipped her slender fingers into the box and drew out another piece of candy, offering it to him when he opened his mouth again.

“In the morning. I have a motel room, tonight...that I will be going back to, alone,” she clarified when he raised his thick brows.

“Now, did I say anything about-”

“No, but you said, yourself, that you're stalling,” she reminded, dropping another sour-coated gummy into his mouth, his larger, grease-stained hand grasping hers suddenly when she started to pull it away. He was quiet for several seconds, content to stare into her dark green eyes, before he finally spoke up.

“You gonna electrocute me with that zap stick if I try to kiss you?” he whispered, his eyes trained on hers.

Lex watched the mechanic thoughtfully, his body practically sprawled out on the floor, before her. “God, this has been such a weird fuckin' night,” she finally declared, and his lips twitched in response.

“That ain't exactly the answer I was looking for,” he retorted, and Lex leaned away again as he slid out completely from beneath the car and sat up on the rolling board. “You got a boyfriend at home, or somethin'?” She glanced away, shaking her head, the loose strands of violet hair by her ears swaying. “Or a girlfriend?”

“No, I...I'm not seeing anybody,” she admitted, looking back at him as he lifted himself off the board and rose to his feet, reaching a dirty hand out that she stared at for a few seconds before accepting.

“Anybody waitin' for you back at that motel?” he asked abruptly, and she suddenly wondered if it had been a bad idea to leave her stun gun in her bag. “Or can I convince you to stay a little longer?”

“I, uh...” she began, but her words faltered.

“You don't have to,” he stated, loosening his embrace of her hand. “But, I sure wouldn't mind if you hung around a bit longer.” When she swallowed noticeably, her face visibly flushed, even in the dim light of the empty shop, Wyatt nodded with a hint of a smirk, dropping her hand completely. “Why don't you think on it, and I'll go get cleaned up.”

In his brief absence, Lex began to wander around the auto shop, eventually finding her way to what was clearly his office, leaving the door open behind her. Small, cheaply framed pictures of Hot Rods and other classic cars hung against ugly, yellow ochre walls. To her relief, there were no sleazy calendars of scantily clad women draped across muscle cars in sight. Ignoring the distance slaps of rubber-soled shoes against smooth concrete, she continued her casual inspection, glancing over pinned-up receipts and finally rounding the desk, finding brightly scrawled coloring pages full of cartoony cars, taped to the walls. Darla's name was written in crayon on both of them. “Don't tell 'er I still got those up. It'd just embarrass her,” Wyatt's voice sounded from the doorway as he observed his office invader.

“I won't,” Lex answered, a gentle smile on her face as she observed them, the mechanic stepping around the desk from the opposite direction and dropping down into his swiveling chair.

Reaching into a desk drawer and pulling out a canister of grease-cleaning wipes, Wyatt popped open the container and handed one to his guest, placing her car keys down on the glossy surface as she wiped away the stains he'd left on her hands. “Whatcha thinkin' about?”

“About how much of a hypocrite I am,” she mused, glancing over her shoulder before shifting to rest her weight against the edge of his desk. When Wyatt said nothing in return, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms across his chest instead, regarding her with curious eyes, she continued. “Preaching to your little sister to take care around dangerous men...and now, here I am, doing something impulsive and stupid,” she explained, shrugging her shoulders, placing her palms against the rounded edge of the desk.

Wyatt was silent for several seconds as he considered her, only serving to add to her hesitance. “I take it Darla's been tellin' stories about me,” he finally stated, and Lex simply raised her brows in response. “So...am I still makin' you nervous,” he guessed, his gaze, directly into her eyes, ceaseless.

“I don't think 'nervous' is the word I'd go with,” she mumbled, glancing away from his intense stare.

“Then why do you keep doin' that?” Wyatt asked suddenly, and Lex's brows knit together in mild confusion. “Lookin' away from me like that...Do you just not trust me, or-”

“I don't trust me,” her voice was barely above a whisper, and Wyatt tilted his head to the side, uncrossing his arms and leaning forward in his chair, a strange smile forming on his lips.

“That so?” he asked, and Lex pursed her lips, as if she were wary some other uncomfortable truth might slip out. Her hands gripped the edge of the desk tighter as Wyatt finally stood up from his chair, stepping so casually in front of her, and so her body sat sandwiched between his own and the heavy, sturdy piece of furniture below her. “Know what I think?” he asked, his body looming, and Lex shook her head as her eyes focused on his. “I think you're a little sweet on me,” he murmured, his large hands finding her smaller ones and uncurling her fingers to weave his own betwixt them.

“Against my better judgment,” she whispered, glancing down to where their hands joined.

“You know, I...just 'cause I ain't exactly on the straight an' narrow...doesn't mean I ain't a good man,” Wyatt did his best to assure, his hands maneuvering hers up to his shoulders, and letting go to grasp her waist when her fingers scrunched up the fabric of his button-up. “Ain't nothin' t' be nervous about, sweetheart,” he rasped as her digits clutched at his shirt, his large, calloused hands traveling down her sides and gripping her outer thighs when he reached them to lift her up onto the edge of his desk. The tiny metal bits of her jeans scraped against the smooth wood as he stepped even closer and situated his thighs between her open knees. “Alexandria,” he breathed as her fingers worked their way up his neck, to the chestnut hair at his nape, his own hands gliding over her bare arms, her shoulders, finding their way back up to her jaw, tilting her chin back with his thumb until she had no choice but to look into his eyes. “If you're gonna tell me no...you better do it, right now,” he warned as her fingers worked through his dark mane, Wyatt finally descending over her to capture her lips, the tiniest moan sounding in Lex's throat.

Wyatt's lips were just as soft as they looked, careful and gentle as they caressed her own, the accumulation of his short whiskers scraping lightly against her skin. His mouth worked so delicately against her own, as if any hint of over-ambitiousness might divide their bodies from one another, that it was Lex who finally took some initiative. Parting her lips against his, gripping a fistful of his hair as his hands began to descend down her body again, she took advantage of the opportunity when a sigh escaped him, prodding against his tongue with her own until his mouth practically latched over hers. A muffled groan rumbled in Wyatt's throat as he felt legs wrap around his waist, slender fingers at his shirt again, groping along his clavicle and shoulder, Lex's blunt-cut nails gripping the fabric as his own hands worked under the hem of her tee. When her body gave a light shudder at the contact of his rough fingertips against her bare skin, but showed no sign of displeasure, he eased higher, mouth still working against hers as his calloused digits met fabric-wrapped underwire, traveling higher still, cupping the soft mounds of flesh through the light padding of her bra. It wasn't enough.

Finally drawing away from her mouth, leaving lighter kisses against her cheek, her jaw, his hands slid around her to pluck at the clasp keeping her soft flesh from his hands, pausing when her whole body seemed to noticeably still. “Is this okay?” he breathed against her skin, his scruffy chin against her temple, open palms against her shoulder blades. Wyatt felt her breath on his throat, her hands meeting at the top button of his shirt. “Is that a yes?”

“I...I'm sorry. It's just been a long-”

“Don't apologize,” Wyatt quickly cut into her words, his hands descending to the small of her back, her unhooked bra still clinging to her chest. “You got nothin' to be sorry about.” His large hands still at her back, his thumbs gently caressing her sides, Wyatt's mouth found Lex's once more, following her lead as she descended against his desk, legs still at his waist. His fingertips eased her shirt up over her stomach, grazing a bit too lightly over her ribs, making her squirm for just a moment before his hands slid higher, pushing back multiple layers of clothing up to her collarbone, and grasping gingerly the soft mounds he'd uncovered.

“Wyatt?” he heard her whimper as his mouth followed in the wake of his hands, ghosting his lips over a taut peak as he palmed at the other side, his tongue dancing over her supple flesh as his free hand weaved between their bodies, toward the button of her jeans. It was enough to snap her out of his spell, and Wyatt found his face being lifted off her chest from her grip in his silky hair.

“Too much?” he mumbled as her fingers loosened, pushing his fallen hair out of his face.

“A little,” she managed, rising up on her elbows, her legs unlocking to fall away at his hips.

“I just wanted a little taste,” he whispered, abandoning her breasts in favor of her parted lips.

“I think you've tasted enough for one night,” she answered, but her smile was still present when he granted some distance between them. “What time is it?”

Glancing at his watch as Lex began to pull and clasp her clothes back into place, Wyatt proclaimed it nearly four in the morning, and surprise and an edge of panic took over Lex's features. “Oh, shit, I didn't...God, they're probably freaking out,” she mumbled as she scrambled off his desk, disappearing from his office before he could ask whom she was talking about. “Fuck!” he heard her exclaim as he stepped out of his office, following her voice across his shop, finding her holding her phone up to her ear as she waited for a voice on the other side of the call. “I know, I know, I didn't have my...yeah, I'm okay, I, uh...kinda lost track of time,” she spoke into the receiver, glancing at Wyatt as he stepped closer, his features tinged with concern and a dash of frustration. Frustration with himself for keeping her out so long, or pushing a little too far, or just the thought of not getting to see her again after tonight, he couldn't decide. Maybe a bit of all of the above. “Right, yeah, I'm about to head that way...yes, I'll text you when I get to my room...goodnight.”

“Your band?” Wyatt ventured, and Lex nodded as she ended the call.

“Yeah, I guess they've been blowing up my phone for an hour, now,” she confirmed, pushing her mobile into her back pocket. “You're not the only one that worries, I guess.”

“I guess,” he repeated, a weak half-smile across his lips. “I suppose I gotta let ya go, now.”

“Um...yeah,” she agreed, though she didn't look any happier about it than he did.

“I don't suppose I'm gonna see you again,” he spoke, not even trying to fake a smile anymore.

“I, um...I'd like to...I don't know when, exactly, but...I-” Lex's words ceased as Wyatt closed the distance between them, his hands finding her jaw as his lips met her own, his kiss as gentle as their first.

“We'll figure somethin' out,” he assured as he put the slightest distance between their mouths, his hands descending to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her in closer. “You ain't gettin' away from me that easy.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

tagging : @one-of-thewalkingdead , @gissellec1 , @rainingrabbits89-blog , @pinkflowerwombat , @sashimeep , @strangererotica , @the-butchers-baby , @callsign-fangirl , @hibiskooks , @jessy02 , @charliehoennam , @pinastrihaven , @amethystblackkchaos , @bleeding-heartz , @lucy-sky

If I forgot anyone, I apologize, and please let me know if you want to be tagged in the next one

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS AND TAGS ARE DEEPLY APPRECIATED. 💙

#josh hartnett #josh hartnett fanfiction

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jessy02 · 21 days ago

Text

Deleted scene.Cooper Gets Stopped by SWAT.

#cooperadams #josh hartnett #trap movie #trap

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jessy02 · 23 days ago

Text

Then Delilah couldn't resist the seduction of angel evil Cooper 🔥

An Exercise in Control - Cooper Adams/Abbott x Fem OC

* Part 3 : Ruiner * (( NSFW ))

Welcome to chapter 3 (of 5) of my Cooper Adams/Abbott fic. Thank you to those who have reblogged and/or commented, and given it a chance so far. This chapter contains 18+ sexual content (smut), NSFW. I'm not one to give out every little detail in the A/N, but be aware that all sexual content related to Cooper is basically dubious consent by its very nature. I don't think any warnings for off-putting kinks apply. As Always, gif is mine.

CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2

(( word count ~ 5,300 ))

🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪

Four hours down, two to go, Delilah thought as she glanced up at the clock, checking the time again, as she had done countless times that day. It wasn't typical for her to watch the time so intensely, since she stayed long after closing, nearly every night, but today was different. Just the fact that she would be clocking out long before the sun had a chance to go down was different. After literal months of small talk, flirtations, and admittedly, some rather uncomfortable moments, the night of hers and Cooper's first official date was finally upon her. She'd been distracted all morning, though in a mostly dead store, it made little difference with the customer base. But between the countless instances of her checking the time, Delilah's gaze drifted constantly to the storefront, ever watchful for a glance at a certain security guard who had also walked by far more often that usual that morning. She supposed it was simply more common for the guards to walk the inside of the mall more during the day, with more customers around inside, and less need to keep watch of the parking lot, but it still felt like he was waiting for something to happen, aside from their date. It just so happened that as he finally walked within her view, for the forth time that day, the store phone at the register desk began to ring, catching both Delilah and Cooper's attention as she scampered over to the source of the noise, and his feet came to a gradual stop just outside the threshold of the store. It took all her willpower to look away from him and put on her customer service voice as she picked up the phone, the security guard leaning against the barrier of the store entrance, just below the metal gate, enclosed in the wall above.

“Page Turners Bookstore, this is Delilah. How can I...” The smile that Cooper's mere appearance had left on her face faltered as she listened to the voice on the other side of the line, and she turned her back to him as her expression became serious. “No, you can't...Heather, you can't do this to me...No, that's bullsh-,” the bookseller bit into her lip and shook her head slowly, reminding herself that customers could potentially walk in at any second. It was not a customer, but the security guard that set her even more on edge when she suddenly felt his palm at the small of her back, surprising her even when she was fully aware he was in the vicinity. “You don't seriously expect me to believe all four tires...Well, did you call...well, what about...no, there has to...Heather, there has to be someone else you can call. This isn't...” She suspected she would have seen a sympathetic look on Cooper's face if she'd turned around, but with his hand at her waist, his taller, broader body at her back, she simply closed her eyes, giving his hand a light squeeze when he reached out for her empty one. ��Fine. But I wanna see the fucking photos. And you fucking owe me,” she snapped as she dropped the store phone into place, not even bothering to say goodbye, and slumping down, out of Cooper's hands, and into a seated position on the threadbare carpet.

“I'm assuming, bad news?” Cooper's voice reached her ears, and he received little more than a groan in response. He glanced around in all directions for customers as Delilah let gravity claim her further, dropping down on her back on the floor, her knees falling to one side, covering her eyes with her forearms.

“That was my co-worker that I switched shifts with. Apparently, she didn't walk outside until half an hour ago, and all four of her tires are slashed.”

“That's...that's crazy,” Cooper answered, his face awfully stoic for someone in the security field, with a date that night, receiving such information. Fortunately for him, her eyes were still covered by her arms in frustration. It had also been lucky that her co-worker lived in a duplex with no cameras around to see him when he had driven a blade through all four tubes of rubber in the overnight hours before his shift.

“Yeah, I don't know who she pissed off...aside from me, now, of course...but no one else is picking up the phone, and lucky me...I'm already here,” she explained, finally letting her arms fall away, staring up at Cooper's looming figure, watching him squat down at her side. “It must be my punishment for being reliable...I thought I'd left that behind when I quit my office job,” she shrugged her shoulders where they lay flat against the floor, tilting her face into the warmth of the security guard's hand as he brushed loose strands of hair from her face. She'd even taken the time to properly straighten it the night before, curling waves into the ends, trying to look, well...it was all for not, now.

“It's okay,” he assured, tucking more strands of auburn away, his callous-roughened fingertips brushing the sensitive shell of her ear, rewarded with the tiniest sigh. “We can postpone.”

“I know, but...I was really looking forward to tonight,” she answered, a defeated half-smile on her lips that Cooper nearly found himself dipping down to graze with his own, but stilling quickly as he reminded himself where he was.

“Well...how about we get you up off the floor before we both get in trouble-”

“-What are they gonna do? Fire me?” Delilah cut in, but allowed herself to be lifted with the assistance of his large hands anyway, and brought back to her feet.

“Probably not, but...how about this? I'll grab us something at the food court when I clock out, and we can have a little dinner here on your lunch hour, okay? I know it's not exactly what we planned, but-”

“No, that...that sounds good,” she admitted, disappointment still etched all over her face, even through the smile she tried to put on for him.

“I can stick around after, if you want-”

“No, I...” she let out a sigh, allowing herself to be pulled into his embrace, cameras and manager be damned. “One of us should get to enjoy their night off.”

“I'm not going to enjoy it without-”

“No, really. If you hang around, it'll just remind me of that real date we're not having,” she explained, Cooper's hands kneading gently at her shoulder blades through her shirt. “You should go, before I actually get in trouble.”

“You're sure?” Cooper prodded as he put a few inches of distance between them, enough to peer down to her face, still crestfallen but acquiesced to her situation.

“No,” she admitted with a sigh, but a light chuckle proceeded, and she finally placed her palms against the black fabric that clung to his chest. “But you're too distracting, and I suddenly have extra work to do.”

“What do you want for dinner?” he asked as he stepped out from behind the desk, glancing over as a few customers shuffled into the store.

“Surprise me.”

🔪

A few hours had passed since Cooper had departed for the night, his personal sabotage of their plans having backfired slightly when Delilah had insisted he enjoy his evening elsewhere. It wasn't as if he didn't want to spend actual off-the-clock quality time with her, it simply wasn't particularly safe doing so in public areas where he would actually be looked at by strangers – not ignored and turned away from, like when he walked the mall on his patrols. He'd managed to go unnoticed by the population this long, and now that he'd found himself a pleasant distraction in the bookseller, he felt less inclination to take risks outsides the mall property. And so, the Butcher found himself at home, with his thighs fallen lazily in opposite directions on his couch, viewing the CCTV feed of the register-facing camera of the bookstore he'd easily hacked into, several weeks before. Generally, he watched from the diminutive screen of his phone, or a monitor at his security desk, so the comfort of his own furniture was a nice change of pace. Atypically though, he found Delilah not busying herself with shelf stocking, or cleaning, or even assisting customers. Apparently unconcerned with the idea of shoppers walking in, Cooper watched the focus of his non-violent desires lying on her back across the varnished surface of the register desk, a forearm across her brow, the other hand over her stomach. It was the buzzing of her cellphone that brought her out of her half-conscious rest.

Delilah gripped her phone and peered at the screen with squinting eyes. A number she didn't recognize displayed across the digital surface, attached to a text message that simply stated <Pick up the phone>. Plucking her earbuds away, she willed herself into a seated position, and her body froze briefly as the store phone began to ring. Glancing back to her cell, she reached to the business phone and, in her usual customer service voice, announced the store name, and her own name, but was cut off before she could finish the spiel. “Working hard?” the voice on the other end asked.

“Who...Cooper?” she inquired, glancing back at her personal phone again, realizing he'd never actually given her his cell number. They worked together so much, she supposed it had simply never come up, though she didn't recall relaying her personal number to him, either.

“Yeah, it's me,” he confirmed, readjusting on his sofa as he watched her via his television, her whole body seeming to perk up at the sound of his voice. “What are you up to?”

“Just...working,” Delilah answered, sliding carefully off the desk and onto her feet.

“It sure doesn't look like it,” Cooper quipped, and watched the figure on the screen as she looked around.

“What?” she asked simply, almost sure she had heard him wrong.

“I said, it sure doesn't sound like it,” he corrected, his shoulder twitching slightly at he leaned forward atop the pillowy cushions.

Delilah looked around in all directions, even trudging out just beyond the empty store opening, glancing down both sides of the corridor, seeing no one in either direction. “What exactly do I sound like when I'm working?” she questioned into the store phone, walking back inside.

“You just don't sound...busy,” he tried again, annoyed with himself at his own slip-up.

“Well...you're not wrong. I'm so bored,” she confessed.

“More than usual?”

“Well, yeah, I mean...I already did all the stuff I do at night, during the day, since the regular morning crew never manage to do anything but assist customers...and I don't even have a handsome distraction around-”

“I offered to stay-”

“I know,” she cut into his reminding words, and a sigh wasn't far behind. “I just hope your night is going better than mine.”

Cooper thought briefly to the body in his personal basement, chopped into pieces, soaked in bleach, waiting for the burial he would be conducting later that night, several miles from his current home, but that event was still hours away. “It's better now,” he stated simply. “I'm sorry our date didn't go the way we planned.”

“It's okay. It's not your fault,” she answered, incorrectly, her voice noticeable more somber. Returning to the register desk, she placed the phone down a moment to hop back up on the wooden surface, crossing her legs and slumping forward with her elbows on her knees, the phone returning to her ear.

“Well...maybe I can make it up to you, anyway,” Cooper murmured, watching her through the large screen.

“We already agreed to postpone, so-”

“No, tonight,” he answered before she could finish her thought, and her brows quirked at his words. “I, uh...I stowed a little something in the desk this afternoon. I wanted to save it for our date, but that didn't exactly go as planned,” he confessed. It wasn't a complete lie, after all.

“What do you mean, you...” Delilah inquired, confusion all over her features as she slid off again, squatting on the cashier side of the desk, and glancing around the various compartments, finally dragging out a small, square box with a ribbon wrapped around it. “Cooper, what did you do?” she asked, her voice a bit warmer as she tugged at the fastenings and opened the box, staring silently.

“Do you like it,” Cooper asked, as if he could see her, and she glanced around once more before redirecting her gaze to the box.

“Cooper, it's beautiful, but...I can't accept this,” she mumbled, drawing out an ornate silver bracelet, with branch-like pieces forming a cuff, embedded with blue opals of various sizes. Despite her words, she wedged the phone between her ear and shoulder to maneuver the piece of jewelry around her wrist.

“Of course you can,” Cooper answered, finally standing from his seat on his couch, casually crossing the room to watch his screen more closely, and the woman displayed upon it.

“Cooper, we haven't even been on our real first date yet, and this is...it's way too expensive,” she continued, looking at it for a few seconds more, adorning her wrist, before her shoulders slumped noticeably, and she began to take it off again.

“It really wasn't that much. I picked it up at that little jewelry kiosk that moved out, a few weeks ago. There lease was up, and they were having a big sale-”

“I don't remember seeing any jewelry kiosk-”

“They were sort of hidden down one of the lesser-used hallways...they never really stood a chance,” Cooper explained, his gaze drifting to the floor, where several feet below him, the original owner of the bracelet was sorted into garbage bags.

🔪

“...Young woman has disappeared...last seen at...security is being increased to...authorities need your help in discovering...searches have been unsuccessful thus far...”

Delilah had been only half-listening to the report of a recent disappearance, something she didn't often pay attention to, as she waited for an update on the upcoming stormy weather projected for the next few days. She'd likely not have paid any attention at all, save for the fact that the woman in question had last been seen at the mall she worked at, or rather, her last purchase had been at one of the stores there. In such a quiet town, vanishings like this were unusual, so much so that several mall employees – especially the young women – had started traveling in pairs. Delilah, of course, was not so concerned, given the distraction of the romance brewing between herself and a certain security guard, but she certainly didn't decline when he offered to drop her off at her vehicle that night.

🔪

“I really appreciate this,” Delilah announced as she slid into the passenger side of the patrol truck Cooper sat in, her door closing noisily, reaching to buckle her seat belt.

“Hey, you know I don't mind,” Cooper assured, putting on a friendly smile as he tilted his head to look at her, so much smaller than himself, so foolishly at ease in his presence. His smile gradually fell away as he watched her get situated, a memory sparked of a previous victim who had been stupid enough to hitchhike in this day and age.

“-per...Cooper?” her voice crept in, pulling him out of his reminiscence, and his smile re-appeared, shaking his head, and sliding the key into the ignition.

“It's nothing, I'm fine,” he assured, taking a steady breath as he put the vehicle into reverse, and backed out from the security area into the main parking lot, putting the weight of his foot against the break pedal. “Hey, would you, uh...do you mind if I do a quick patrol first? Just around the parking lot? Get it out of the way, and uh...” he reached out with his right hand as his left remained steady on the steering wheel, his digits brushing some loose strands behind her ear, making sure to let his roughened fingertips ghost over the the sensitive skin, “make sure it's safe.” His knuckled grazed the side of her neck, and Cooper watched as Delilah sucked in the middle of her bottom lip, just for a moment, teeth grazing the skin before her lips parted and she took in a shallow breath.

“Of...of course,” she managed, tilting her head to look his way as he returned his right hand back to the wheel. “Yeah, there's not much point in you dropping me off if you haven't looked around first.”

“Exactly,” Cooper agreed, his eyes returning to the empty concrete lot before him as he maneuvered the steering wheel and put the truck into drive.

They traveled slowly along the different levels of the parking garage first, both driver and passenger looking around in all directions for other vehicles and wandering people, finding none. Eventually, they got back down to the ground level again, Delilah giving a tiny squeak that made Cooper's lips curl in the corner slightly when he drove over a speed bump too quickly. Next came the greater parking lot, striped concrete spread out in all directions, every inch of it empty of vehicles and people, save for his and her own, which he drove past without stopping. About five minutes had passed by the time he brought the vehicle to a stop, not in the vicinity of her car, but in an area of the parking lot that went mostly unused, the concrete cracked and warped by the tree roots that had broken through, the foliage creating a thick canopy above.

“Why...are we stopping here?” Delilah spoke up as Cooper shifted the truck into park and turned the key to shut off the engine.

“Honestly?” he asked as he popped the keys into the sunglasses compartment and rolled the manual window down a few inches for fresh air.

“Yeah, of course,” she answered, watching as he unclasped his seat belt and let it slide back home.

“I, uh...I guess I'm just not ready to say goodnight,” he explained, reaching out for her hand and grasping it carefully in his own, much larger one. “I'll turn the truck back on, and drive you back to your car right now, if you want, but...I'd really like you to stay.” When her hand gently slipped out of his after a few seconds of silence, his lip twitched slightly with annoyance, but instead of speaking up immediately, she moved to unbuckle her seat belt as well, dragging it off of her body, looking back up to him as a faint smile returned to his face. “Good.”

Cooper adjusted in his seat, shifting his body so he was at more of an angle, taking her hand again and running his thumb over her knuckles. “Can I be honest?” he asked, running his tongue over his lips as she watched his hand manipulate hers, weaving his large fingers between her slender digits. She nodded, silent, lifting her gaze to his as he placed his free hand against his door and used the leverage to push his body nearer to the center of the upholstered bench seat, Delilah's body remaining still.

“Of course,” she mumbled, and his lips quirked. Of course. That tiny phrase that served as a reminder of her trust. He briefly wondered when and if the day would come when she would tell him no, and truly mean it. If he could dig his claws in deep enough, he believed, it never would. A permanent, little toy to play with and manipulate. Something about the thought made him feel...something akin to comfort. Comfort in control. “You can tell me anything,” she spoke up and his eyes darted back to hers, again. I'm sure you think so.

“I've been...I've wanted to get you all to myself for weeks. I think about you...all the time. You're always with me, even when we're apart,” he explained, his hand leaving hers to brush more hair behind her ear, running his knuckles along the edge of her jaw, carefully grasping her chin and directing her to look at him, and only him. It was easier to tell if his lies were accepted as truth when he could stare directly into a person's eyes, not that what he said was actually untrue, just...not in the way she was meant to believe.

“Did you plan this?” she asked, displaying not an ounce of resistance as she allowed him to manipulate her movements, or lack thereof. He tilted his head slightly to one side, his brows coming together, feigning confusion. “Getting me all alone in your truck, away from prying eyes?”

His lips formed a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “I can't do the things I want to do to you, in public, in front of cameras and customers...and you don't like the basement,” he explained, both his large hands on her face now, a thumb against her lips, manipulating the pillowy flesh.

“Wh-what do you...wanna do to me,” she whimpered, Cooper adjusting his body on the elongated seat and shifting closer, reducing the distance between them.

“Truthfully?” he whispered, closing in as she shifted her own body to slide closer, her hands finding the collar of his button-down shirt. She nodded, silent save for the staggered breaths that escaped her. “I wanna ruin you,” he rasped, and his lips were against hers, for the first time, and her flesh felt just as soft as he'd imagined. His kisses were soft, careful, almost chaste, his fingers weaving into her hair as he encouraged her closer, her body adjusting until she was practically in his lap. Cooper's lips teased, the contact so light that Delilah felt compelled to lean into him, pressing her mouth more fully to his, a hint of a grunt sounding from deep in the Butcher's throat. As careful as he had began, his facade started to slip, and what were initially gentle touches escalated, his mouth quickly manipulating hers open, pressing his tongue inside so deeply, so invasively. His fingers that had glided through her hair began to grip and hold to the point of being painful, as if he were trying to consume her. Hands much smaller than his own began to press against his chest, not to pull him closer as he had expected, and a protesting noise sounded from her throat. Cooper's eyes suddenly opened when he felt her start to smack at his chest, finally releasing her.

His breathing was heavy as he stared at her, his eyes heavy, hers wide and unnerved. “Cooper, what the hell? I...I think you should take me to my car n-”

“No, I...” Cooper immediately pulled an apologetic face, reaching for her hand when she began to put space between their bodies. “Delilah, I'm so sorry, I just...I want you so much. I got carried away,” he explained, watching her eyes unblinkingly, seeking her honest reaction. When her eyes shifted from his to the door handle at her side, he spoke up again. “It's just been so long since I've felt this way, and I...I didn't mean to scare you,” he insisted, reaching for the hand closest to his, drawing it back to his chest where she had pushed him away. Placing his own hand over hers, he reached the other forward to graze her jaw, feather-light. “Please don't go.”

Delilah's gaze rested on the large hand that held her own to Cooper's chest, her fingers curled slightly. The Butcher's own hand carefully gripped the bookseller's wrist as her fingers rose up the side of his neck, grazing his dark hair and circling up to push it out of his face. His hand ghosted over the length of her arm, over her shoulder, her body shifting closer to his again as his fingertips met the nape of her neck. He swallowed noticeably as she edged nearer, his empty eyes focused on hers, and he closed the gap between them when she finally pressed in close enough.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered between his gentler, softer kisses, his digits gliding into her hair again, grasping gently, guiding her closer with control in his movements. Just as their lips began to part, the tips of their tongues grazing one another, Cooper's mouth abandoned hers. Leaving a trail of kisses against her cheek, along her jaw, down her neck when she allowed herself to be pulled into his lap once more, his lips grazed over her clavicle, back up her throat and along the back of her ear, his hands gripping her a little tighter, in her hair and at her waist, when she whimpered at the feel of his damp lips against the the sensitive little hollow, just behind her earlobe. “Here?” he whispered, letting the tip of his tongue dance over the taut skin hiding behind the cartilage, mushing his lips against her there when she let out another pathetic, wordless vocalization. “And here?” he continued, his mouth descending again to the junction of her throat that had made her twitch on his first pass, her hands gripping his shoulder, fisting in his hair, though not as harshly as his had when he'd frightened her. “Should I mark you? Right here?” he breathed, his hand abandoning her hair to scrape a short nail down the side of her neck. His mouth was on her throat before she could manage words, and he began to suck, her body twitching, her free hand finding his chin while the other gripped harder in his hair, pulling his mouth away from her before he could break capillaries.

“Stop,” she managed, her breathing heavy, eyes barely open, her grip lightening when he ceased, leaned slightly away. “They already think we're...” Delilah began, licking her parched lips, and swallowing despite her dry throat.

“They already think we're what?” Cooper murmured as he began to lean in again, seeking out her throat once more, his lips securing over her flesh, practically tasting her pulse. When words failed her, when Delilah found herself unable to do much of anything but sink into him, and tangle her fingers in his soft mane, he pulled away just enough to form words. “They already think we're fucking?” She made a noise, barely an mmph through her pursed lips, fighting her own body's need to vocalize. “Disappearing into my office,” he mumbled as his lips grazed up her throat, to the little hollow behind her ear that he was quickly finding to be a spot that made her squirm. “What do they say? That I fuck you on that ragged carpet? That you sit on your knees at my chair and suck my cock? Do they think I shove the papers off my desk and drop you down on it, just so I can-”

“Cooper...” Delilah whimpered against his jaw as she felt his fingers searching for the zipper of her work pants, practically ripping the button off as he began to spread the fabric. “You have a...a vivid imagination...Cooper, we can't-”

“Can't what?” he rasped, already manipulating her body with his other hand, adjusting her so her ass was against the crotch of his pants, the contents below his own zipper rigid and straining against the layers of fabric. “I just wanna touch...I need to touch you, sweetheart,” he whispered, his whisker-roughened cheek against her temple as his digits slid beneath the elastic lace that served as her only protection from his demanding hand.

“Coop-” Delilah couldn't even manage to get his name out of her mouth before he cut her off with his own, his mouth as confident as his fingers that penetrated her soaked folds, so slick from his physical attention, his evocative words.

“Take them off,” Cooper whispered against her parted lips, and there was no suggestion in his words, no more room for discussion.

Even as the young woman's hands began to work at the fabric that clung to her hips, she still managed a weak, “I don't think this is a good idea.”

“Don't you?” Cooper questioned, watching her struggle to shove the clingy pants down her legs, kicking off her shoes. “Don't you wanna cum? Don't you want to cum for me, in my hand, on these fingers?” He held up his hand to demonstrate just how much larger it was than her own, already sticky from her juices, his clean hand weaving under her work shirt, working its way past the underwire of her bra to grasp at a soft mound of flesh, the peak already at full attention. “You can pretend to be a good girl all you want,” he rasped, his mouth at her throat once more, his slick fingers seeking out her molten heat again, Delilah's own hand not far behind, gripping his and guiding him to fuck her deeper with his wicked digits. “But we both know you're a sl-”

“No,” she mumbled, her unbusied hand in his soft, chestnut strands, “I don't...I'm not-”

“You're just weak for me, aren't you?” he corrected. No degradation, he thought. Check. “These hands...these big, strong, fucking fingers...filling you up...mmm, just like that,” he whispered against her skin as she rocked her hips against his plunging digits, his other hand squeezing her breast tight in his grip, receiving a needy whine in return. When his mouth began to suck at her throat again, his clever fingers curling and stroking at the spongy flesh that made her shudder, she didn't pull him away from her as she had before, only gripped his hair tighter, holding him against her, his scruff scraping her oversensitive skin deliciously. “I thought you didn't want me to,” he murmured, but he was suckling at her skin before she could get her words out.

“I...I don't care...I want you to,” she whimpered, rutting against his fingers.

“Mmm, what else do you want me to do,” he groaned, his lips latching onto her neck again, the flesh beneath already bruising from his persistence.

“Ha...Uh...nothing that I'd-uh...nothing that I'd...let you do to me...in this truck,” she gasped out between breaths, her throat dry from her needy little noises, her pussy so damned wet from his deft fingers.

“Not yet, maybe...I bet you'd let me fuck you right here if I asked real nice...I know you can feel how fucking hard I am,” he rasped, grinding his straining cock against her ass through the frustratingly tight layers of his pants and boxer-briefs. “I bet you'd cum all fucking over me...oh, that's right, baby...are you gonna cum for me?�� his words were nearly overshadowed by her whimpers at he drew his hand out from under her bra to join his other, plunging and curling his digits inside, engulfed by her walls, as his fresh hand went to work, sliding low enough to reach her nectar, and gliding back up to stroke at her neglected clit. Her fingers were at the back of his head, guiding him to her throat again, where he began to suck at the already marred flesh once more, his efforts finally reaching fruition as her moans turned into cries, her walls flexing and pulsing around his nimble fingers as she came in his hand. The Butcher's mouth didn't leave her neck until the twitching of her thighs, her aftershocks, finally eased. Delilah's whole body seemed to tremble yet as he finally extracted his fingers, lifted them to her lips where he slipped them inside, just enough for her to taste the effect he had on her, his own mouth overtaking hers as soon as he drew his digits away. This time, there was no protest, no fight, just her overstimulated body caving to his will.

🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪

tagging as requested : @one-of-thewalkingdead , @gissellec1 , @rainingrabbits89-blog , @pinkflowerwombat , @sashimeep , @strangererotica @the-butchers-baby @callsign-fangirl @hibiskooks

If I forgot anyone, I apologize, and please let me know if you want to be tagged in the next one

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS AND TAGS ARE DEEPLY APPRECIATED. 💙

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jessy02 · 28 days ago

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#cooperadams #josh hartnett #trap movie #trap

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jessy02 · 28 days ago

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#cooperadams #josh hartnett #trap #trap movie #M.NightShyamalan behind the scenes #behind the scenes #lady raven

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jessy02 · 29 days ago

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Same

An Exercise in Control - Cooper Adams/Abbott x Fem OC

* Part 2 : The Line Begins to Blur *

Welcome to chapter 2 (of 5) of my Cooper Adams/Abbott fic. Thank you to everyone who gave the first chapter a chance, especially those who reblogged and/or commented. I know it wasn't super exciting, but some groundwork had to be laid. I promise things are about to get more interesting 💙As Always, gif is mine.

CHAPTER 1 CAN BE FOUND HERE

(( word count ~ 4,200 ))

🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪

“Hey there, Delilah,” rang out a voice that was not familiar, yet the source, unmistakable. She could have passed by without noticing them, or pretended she hadn't, but her earbuds had gone quiet between tracks, and the second of pause in her stride told them they had not gone unheard. When they shouted her name alone, louder, she paused completely, and swerved around in an annoyed one-eighty.

“What?!” her voice called back, raising her shoulders at a pair of fast fashion clothing store employees, hanging just outside the opening that served as the retailer's door. She didn't know all of their names, but almost all of them, throughout the mall, seemed to belong to the same hivemind of juvenile behavior. They are juveniles, Delilah silently reminded herself as they beckoned her over. They're teenagers. Their frontal lobes aren't fully developed-

“Is it true you're fucking the narc?” one of the girls demanded, and the few steps Delilah had taken came to a pause. “It is, right? You're fucking the Rent-A-Cop?” she reiterated, and Delilah's eyes simply slid closed, a sigh escaping her.

“Not that's it's remotely your business who I fuck, but no. Cooper and I are just friends,” she stated simply, hoping to end it there, but before she could turn, a sharp acrylic nail snagged the edge of her uniform top, threatening to pierce it.

“Oh, first-name basis? That's...yeah, that's convincing,” the other girl quipped.

Delilah wished the experience of this ridiculousness was a first time occurrence, but it had probably happened at least a half dozen times now, between employees speaking directly at her – never to her – or talking about it like she wasn't in clear earshot. It was like living in perpetual high school, over a decade post-graduation.

“Don't you have some sweatshop shirts to sell?” Delilah retorted, and they both rolled their eyes. “Or a junior year to repeat, Samantha?” The taller of the two suddenly went quite still.

“That's not true-”

“Really? That's not what Laura said” she replied, choosing a name out of dozens, no idea if it was the right one, nor did she care. This would go on forever if she didn't force a distraction.

“Laura from the Hollister?” she demanded, and Delilah nodded quickly. She'd have to remember to avoid passing by the Hollister for a while. With the two girls distracted by manufactured drama, Delilah made quick steps the direction she'd originally been traveling. She walked so fast she didn't notice the security guard on the other side of the wall she passed, tucked away in the shadow, listening intently.

🔪

A hand suddenly placed against the small of her back sent a full-body shudder through Delilah's body as she stood near the far end of the bookstore, the mall just closed within the last hour, granting her the time to finally take care of the stocking of shelves without the worry of booktok-addicted thieves popping in to snatch something and scamper off. One of her earbuds was plucked from her ear by a hand that wasn't her own, and she turned about to find Cooper standing even closer than usual. “You're never gonna stop doing that, are you?” she questioned, letting out a sigh and putting her palm against the black material of his uniform to create a bit more distance between them.

“I'll stop doing it when you stop giving me such cute reactions,” Cooper answered, and Delilah's cheeks flushed a few shades. It was true what she'd told the H&M girlies, that they were, in fact, not fucking. They hadn't even kissed. Nothing had happened beyond him occasionally placing his hands on her in ways that were just close enough to indifferent to not spark definite suspicions of some deeper intent. Or maybe the bookseller just didn't want to let her hopes and imagination get the best of her, and leave her with more melancholy. “Are you alright?”

“Why wouldn't I be alright?” Delilah asked, gathering up the new books that wouldn't fit on the shelves, and tucking them back into the inventory box.

“I don't know. I usually see you at least once before closing time. Thought I might have done something,” he shrugged, watching her flit around, out of his physical reach.

“Of course not,” she answered automatically, and before she could get past him, he spoke up again.

“I heard those girls,” Cooper stated simply, his mind having reflected on the conversation he'd listened in on a few hours previous. “Does that happen a lot?”

“It's...it's just stupid teen gossip,” Delilah quipped, avoiding direct eye contact as she shuffled around. She always seemed to be visibly more busied when she didn't like the direction of the conversation. “They think I get special treatment because we...” she paused, hearing the squeaking sound of worn vinyl as Cooper plopped down on a beanbag chair from the children's section, his body looking like that of a giant, atop the diminutive peace of 'furniture'. “Because you hang around a lot, I guess.”

Cooper was quiet for several seconds before he spoke up, Delilah's actions becoming more unfocused. Though she tried to make herself look busy, the security guard experienced no issue in seeing right through her performative nonchalance. “Does that bother you?” he asked suddenly, and Delilah's body stilled, shifting to finally look at him. He was pretty much all she thought about anymore, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to simply be around him when she wanted so much more than a casual workplace friendship.

“That they bring their bratty high school attitude to work and make it everyone else's problem?” she retorted.

“That I spend so much time around here,” he clarified. “I hope I'm not wearing out my welcome.”

“No, of course not, you aren't...not remotely,” she finally admitted, shaking her head slightly, her green eyes earnest as she stared into his umber gaze, almost blackened by the shadow cast from his brow.

“You're sure?” Cooper asked, his stare unceasing as she leaned against the edge of a sturdy bookcase.

“Of...Of course,” she mumbled, her vision falling away as his eyes became too dangerous to continue staring into. “You're...I mean, I'm sure you've noticed that I...I really don't have much in the way of...well, anyone,” she admitted, her thumb running along her other hand where she clasped them together in a self-soothing gesture.

“You've got friends outside w-”

“No, I really don't. I used to. But I don't know, it's like...it's so hard to make friends that you don't,” she paused and gestured to him as an example, punishing the beanbag chair with his muscle-fueled weight, “work in the vicinity of. I used to have friends, back when I worked at the office. Or I thought I did, but...between everyone else quitting or moving, or getting married, or pregnant, or both...all my friendships kind of dissolved before I ever left. It's like...if you don't fit inside this predetermined section of adulthood, you're not worth being around...Especially when you're the not-fun one who also doesn't want to go to happy hour, after.”

Cooper sat in silence, listening to her spill. It was true that he hadn't established any surface friendships that weren't extremely casual, and connected to the mall, but making friends and staying on people's positive purview had never been an issue for him. Though, the whole mentally unstable serial killer charm was probably tied to that. Or maybe it was just harder for women. “So, I'm not bothering you?” he finally asked. He wasn't really invested in the idea of helping her develop new friendships. He liked her exactly where she was, right below his metaphorical thumb.

“To be honest...you're pretty much the highlight of my day, most days,” she admitted, her gaze falling back to the floor at the admission. It felt uncomfortably close to an admission of her attraction, her affection for him, but it was true, and she couldn't keep living in the perpetual fear that her feelings weren't reflected in his own.

“Well,” Cooper finally spoke up, reaching his hand up for assistance off what was practically the floor. It took nearly all of her effort when she took his hand and pulled with all her strength to bring him up to his feet, stumbling a bit when he towered over her, not even a foot between them. A light chuckle not even Cooper expected slipped out of him, and his left hand was reaching for hers, his right tipping up her chin with the slightest contact. “I suppose I'll just have to work on making it 'everyday'.”

🔪

It was half past one when Delilah's shoes clacked against the peeling vinyl floor of an Italian restaurant conjoined with the mall, thankful she'd kept the key-code to the outside door, written down from when a former employee had shared it with her. A secret entrance for employees only that not even Cooper had noticed on his rounds, it had saved her more than once when she'd left the mall after work and realized she'd left something behind, long after the guards had locked up. It had been her laptop charger this time, and with her actually managing to snag a full day and night off, she couldn't afford to leave it until she worked next. She held an unlikely hope that she might run into Cooper one last time before her day off, with the comforting attention he'd paid her earlier that night, and the knowledge that she'd have to deal with her roommate soon. Walking a little too close to one of the lengthy walls down a main corridor, she nearly toppled to the ground when a door she had never seen utilized suddenly swung open, almost smacking against her.

“C-Cooper...That's two times in one night,” she managed, a little shaken from almost colliding face-first with the solid door.

“Where...How did you get in here? I made sure your car was gone before I locked everything up,” Cooper spoke, his voice sounding a bit off, his brows more animate than usual, and his bottom jaw shifting from side to side with tension.

“There's a key-code door to the Maggiano's employee entrance. I guess the code hasn't changed in a while,” she explained. “Speaking of doors...” she indicated the one Cooper had his hand firmly planted against. “I didn't even know anyone used that one. What were you doing in there?”

Cooper's little facial ticks pricked and tugged at his handsome features, actively thinking up a believable lie. Never once had he accessed the basement levels when the mall was open, while Delilah was on the premises. His acts...his violent, carved up acts...it wasn't exactly possible to keep his two lives separate as he had before, in his marriage. Perhaps it had not been as separate as he might admit to himself, given the jewelry he'd gifted his wife and daughter, literal trophies of some of his dismemberments. But this side of himself, he had no intentions to introduce her to. Their game was not about violence, as all his others had been. His urges were not the same as what he felt toward those people he believed saw themselves as whole. It hadn't been worth the risk of letting her even know the lower levels even existed, but her fingers were reaching for the handle of the door before he could register her movement.

“I can't let you-” Cooper began, his tone like a command, as if it were forbidden. That only made her want to venture on.

“Oh, come on, what's down there?” she asked, intrigued.

“It's...not much of anything,” he uttered, but she was slipping around him and reaching for the knob again, his arms shooting out to grasp her wrists before he realized what he was doing. Neither moved, both conscious of the new, even more powerful position he held over her. His eyes seemed so black in the poor lighting of the after hours hallway, no words exchanged between them as he carefully guided her hands to the cool metal of the door, her slender form practically engulfed in his shadow. “It's not for you,” he stated firmly, which only served to shift her curiosity into suspicion.

“What do you mean, it's not for me...Is it for someone else?” she asked. The last question had a twinge of self-doubt that she immediately regretted.

Cooper observed her in silence, his hands abandoning her wrists and drawing away from the door, his palms finding the sides of her waist, his grip light but not subtle. “Who else would there be?”

Delilah's hands finally broke contact with the metal surface, drifting down to insufficiently wrap over the hands at her waist, her gaze following, watching with nervous interest as his digits played at the untucked hem of her shirt, curling slightly to expose her midriff, his callous-roughened fingertips and blunt nails scraping her skin. Looking not to the man at her back, but past him to the camera she knew pointed in their vicinity from it's home on the ceiling, her fingers finally gripped his hands for fully, and she dragged them away from her torso. “I should really be-”

“Don't go,” Cooper murmured, his hand grasping hers before she could completely escape his presence. “If you really want to see...I'll show you what's down there,” his voice was low, calm, almost disconcertingly so, but it held her just as firmly as his physical grasp. “It can be our secret.”

🔪

Slipping through the heavy, metal door, Delilah's shoulders twitched at the sound of it slamming home behind herself and the security guard. From what she could see in the seconds before it had closed noisily behind them, they seemed to be standing in a long hallway that didn't have an apparent end. Surrounding the two of them was only darkness, the neon lights on the consumer side of the door not even creeping in through the bottom edge. There was only blackness and silence outside of her anxious breathing for several seconds before Cooper spoke up again, Delilah already beginning to spiral over how incredibly stupid of a decision she might have just made. What did she know about him, really? Sure, he paid her attention, like no one else had in longer than she wished to admit, but she knew virtually nothing about him outside of the building they both worked in.

“It's this way,” he finally spoke up, and in this pitch-dark space, his presence felt even more engulfing than usual. Even alone in the bookstore at night, the only two souls left in the building, his company had never felt this intense...almost threatening.

“Wh...what's this way?” she asked, her voice cracking, his hand cupping her shoulder as she walked ahead of him at a leisured pace.

“A staircase,” he stated simply, his free hand reaching into one of his many pocket compartments to draw out a high lumen flashlight, Delilah's shoulders going slack almost immediately at the sudden flood of light. “There's a whole basement floor that seems to have been abandoned,” he advised, mentally noting her quickly calming demeanor as she glanced along the walls, and Cooper pressed the flashlight into her hand to allow her to take lead. His current victim was chained and gagged at the far end of the basement level, after all, and way out of earshot from anywhere he'd permit her to explore. When they finally reached a wall, a single story flight of stairs came into view, a faint glow at the bottom.

“This is...how did you find out about this?” Delilah queried, clicking off the flashlight and passing it back to Cooper, her gaze flitting in all directions as they reached the bottom of the staircase.

Schematics and blueprints from the city archives, Cooper recalled, before speaking up. “I lucked out. I found a ring of keys in the security office behind the desk, and one of them fit.” He'd searched extensively for hidden spaces, forgotten by time, long before settling on this community, and his current position.

“Okay, but...why keep it a secret?” she continued, giving him a confused look, before glancing past his shoulder. The basement level was full of half-built walls that opened up to empty spaces, winding hallways, a few locked doors here and there.

“Purely selfish reasons,” Cooper admitted, and Delilah glanced back at him once more.

“Like?” She asked, and when the security guard hesitated, her features took on a look of despondence. “Oh, right. We don't talk about you. I almost forgot-”

“I have some hobbies that require a lot of space that my home can't accommodate,” the Butcher spoke up. “Plus...sometimes it's nice to have a little space to hide away. I know you can relate to that.”

“A little?” Delilah repeated his words, reaching a hand out and making a sweeping gesture with her arm at the enormous, seemingly endless liminal space they found themselves in. Cooper put on a casual smile and shrugged his shoulders, glancing around as well, making certain they weren't anywhere near his victim. Well, his other victim. “And those hobbies?” she hedged, but he shook his head faintly, and she nodded.

“Like I said...they aren't for you,” he reminded, and she cast her gaze away from him.

“So...I guess I don't understand why you wanted me to come down here, then?” she concluded, a frown forming on her lips.

Cooper was silent for a few moments before he spoke up. He wasn't certain, himself, why he'd gone against his better, secret-keeping judgment. “Maybe I...just wanted to get you to myself,” he finally offered.

Delilah let out a soft, unenthusiastic laugh. “You basically have me to yourself, all the time...it's not like anyone's exactly competing for my time, and...attention,” she paused when she registered that he was no longer at her side. When she turned around, it also dawned on her just how dark it had become, realizing they had managed to wander way past the functionality of the overhead lights. “Cooper?”

“I'm here,” he spoke up almost immediately, and she swiveled around in the direction of his voice.

“I...think we should go back,” she mumbled, glancing around in the dark when she heard his feet move against the concrete floor.

“Why?” he asked bluntly, and Delilah's brows knit together in confusion and unease.

“Because...you're kind of...making me uncomfortable,” she admitted, turning when she heard his shoes on the floor again.

“Do you want me to make you comfortable?” he inquired, which did nothing but put her more on edge.

“Cooper-”

“We could stay...I could keep you down here...all to myself...steal you away,” his voice had taken on a low, gravely tone that confused her even more, though not so much with him, but herself. Where was her self-preservation instinct? Did she not have a phone with a flashlight in her pocket? Could she not just- “I'm not hearing a no.”

“Of course it's a no,” she managed, reaching out in the direction she perceived his voice to be emanating from, and grasping a fistful of his jacket.

“You don't sound so sure,” Cooper spoke up, his hand gently grasping the smaller one that gripped his outer layer of clothing, carefully dragging it away, weaving his own fingers betwixt hers instead.

“Cooper, you're...you're kind of scaring me,” she admitted, and the Butcher finally paused.

“I know,” he finally answered, feeling her fingers attempting to tug away from his grasp. “It's not fair of me, but I...you know it's just a joke, right? You know I'd never hurt you.”

No, I definitely don't know that, Delilah thought, but kept her vocalizations more subdued. “Then...let's just get out of here,” she cautiously suggested.

More silence from the large, looming form in front of her, and his free hand was at her cheek, the subtlest flinch giving him a moment's pause. “Please...just a little longer. I know you have to go home, but...just stay a little longer. No more bad jokes,” he pleaded, his tone subdued.

When she returned no words in answer, he let out an audible breath, glancing back in the direction he knew led to the staircase. He'd pushed too far. It was too-

"I guess I...I just don't really understand what you see in me. I mean, you're so...and I'm just...I'm really not anything special,” she finally admitted, and if she'd been able to see anything, she'd have seen the surprise and disbelieve on his face.

"Who told you that lie?" he finally spoke, the hand that had morphed with hers departing to rise up and cup her cheek, her flushed skin warm and soft against his callous-roughened hand.

“It's more like years of experience,” she mumbled, and she felt him step in closer, her own feet traveling backwards on instinct. “You hang around me all the time, but you don't let me in, and I never know where I stand with you, and-” her words came to an end when she felt the pad of his finger press against her lips, her back colliding against one of the many walls she couldn't see. Expecting to feel his lips against hers, she was surprised to feel the firm surface of his forehead against hers instead, Cooper leaning over her, his hands at her jaw, her neck, over her shoulders where they remained.

“You're right...I'm out of practice, and that's no fault of yours,” he admitted, waiting for her shoulders to tense or not. They remained lax in his loose grip.

🔪

Much as he desired to stay in the hidden realm of the basement level, to test the limits of her trust, push her farther, perhaps across an empty table with her chest to the unvarnished wood, one hand on her back while the other dragged down his zipper to...well, perhaps some other time. So long as Cooper played his hand well, kept the worst of his proclivities at bay, his time and chances to turn her to putty in his hands were virtually limitless. Maybe a little private show under the watchful, constant gaze of the CCTV from the comfort of the security office-

The clanging of the metal barrier slapping against the recently mopped floors brought Cooper's thoughts back to the real world, and he pressed off the wall he'd leaned against, waiting for Delilah to retrieve her laptop charger. “Got it,” she declared, holding it up as if he required proof, before stuffing it into her purse. He nodded and reached out a hand when she stepped close enough, the two of them meeting in the middle of the corridor. When Cooper noticed her brief hesitance, he made the decision for her, and clasped his hand around hers, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Somehow, if felt different in the open, under the glowing neon of the store fronts they passed, even with no one else around to see them.

“I'm not gonna bite,” Cooper spoke up as he observed the way she focused her gaze on literally anything but himself, though she made no attempt to extract her hand from his. “Unless you want me to,” he added, and was pleased and a bit relieved to catch the smile that tugged at her lips.

She nearly apologized before she caught herself, concluding she didn't really have anything to apologize for. “In the basement, you...you really made me uncomfortable,” she explained, chancing a glance up to his eyes that watched her so ceaselessly.

“I know,” he confessed, abandoning her hand closest to him, only to reach around and grasp her other hand, lifting it to hold in his where his wrist balanced atop her shoulder. “I can't promise it won't happen again,” he admitted, giving the hand clutched in his larger one a slight squeeze when her brows furrowed at his words. “But, I'll try to be more...cognizant of your boundaries.”

We haven't even been on a date, and I feel like I need a safe word, Delilah thought, as the mall entrance closest to her car came into view. “Well, anyway...thanks for...whatever the hell tonight was,” she declared as Cooper finally let go of her hand, her brows quirked as she considered the strangeness of their evening. Cooper shrugged his shoulders, a calm smile across his lips as he set to work unlocking the door, and holding it open for her. “I guess I'll see you...in a couple nights,” she added, and he nodded simply, lifting a hand to wave before she could turn away to trudge toward her car.

She hadn't made it ten feet before his voice suddenly called out to her, and she swiveled around to face him. “Delilah, can I...can I take you out to dinner, sometime?”

The bookseller stared at him, her lips parting, and closing again without sound, running her tongue nervously over them, trying again. “Like, on a date? A real date?”

Cooper's smile became more broad as his gaze softened, leaning against the open door of the building entrance. “Yeah. A real one.”

🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪

tagging as requested : @one-of-thewalkingdead , @gissellec1 , @rainingrabbits89-blog , @pinkflowerwombat , @sashimeep , @strangererotica @the-butchers-baby @callsign-fangirl @hibiskooks

If I forgot anyone, I apologize, and please let me know if you want to be tagged in the next one

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS AND TAGS ARE DEEPLY APPRECIATED. I KNOW THIS IS A BIT DIFFERENT THAN MOST OF THE OTHER COOPER STORIES BEING WRITTEN, BUT I HOPE IT APPEALS TO SOMEONE BESIDES MYSELF 💙

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