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amandacanwrite · 9 months ago

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Hazards of Endearment || Part Three: Home

Pairing || Cooper Adams (Abbott?) / Female Reader

Fandom || Trap (2024)

Warning || This is a slow-burn, dark romance. There will be lying, manipulation, infidelity, and eventual coercion and kidnapping in this fic. Cooper is not a good guy and brings out ugly sides of the reader's character. If that is problematic or upsetting to you, I encourage you to skip this one. In addition to that, the 'reader' in this fic is epileptic and there are mentions and depictions of grand mal seizures in this fic as well as allusions to parental mental abuse and munchausen's by proxy.

Tag List || @amethystblackkchaos @dirtylittlefairytales

There was something strangely comforting about being carried by him. It was like being a child again, carried to bed by your father or grandfather or uncle. Your weight easily buoyant in his arms as you drifted to sleep at his allowance.

It wasn’t long after he set off down the flatter part of the path that you fell asleep, lulled by the gentle swaying and rhythmic sound of boots crunching gravel. The steady breaths of the man carrying you as if you weighed no more than a backpack.

It was the best sleep you’d gotten in weeks and it wasn’t just because of the seizure you’d just had. As for what the reason for that was, you couldn’t be sure. Anything you guessed would just be conjecture.

You didn’t wake again until you heard your name being said in a gentle voice accompanied by a jostle of your shoulder. Your eyes flitted open to find him only a few inches away from you, his large hand cradling your cheek. His handsome face broke with a kind smile.

“There you are,” he said. “Was worried I was going to have to call an ambulance after all. You were out like a light.”

He leaned over you, unfastening your seat belt. You could smell the faint remnants of his aftershave and the barest tinge of perspiration. When you looked past his shoulder you saw your apartment building looming in the distance, the small windows glowing with yellow light against the twilight.

How late was it? How long had you’d been asleep?

And how did this guy know where you lived?

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said. “You looked so tired when I got you into the car I just took the liberty of checking the address on your driver’s license.”

“My ID? I don’t have a driver’s license, remember?” you said.

“Ah,” he said, backing away from you with an apologetic wrinkle to his brow; his lips tucking a little awkwardly. “Right. Sorry.”

“Don’t be, I’m just being pedantic,” you said. “Thank you for bringing me all the way back home…”

You paused trying to recall his name, realizing that you didn’t actually know it. You puzzled over how he figured out your name and then, with chagrin, realized he had gotten it from your ID. Obviously.

“Name’s Cooper Adams,” he said, offering you a hand. “You feel a little less wobbly after a nap?”

“Cooper,” you repeated as you took his hand. “You look like a cooper.”

He chuckled as he helped you down from your seat in his black SUV. “Yeah? How’s that?”

“I dunno–like you’re…a border collie made into a guy,” you said as you swayed on your feet a bit. He caught you and stabilized you.

“Easy,” he said. “Why don’t you let me carry you again?”

“No!” you said a little too quickly.

He blinked a little surprised by your insistent refusal.

“S-sorry–my neighbors. They’re nosy and they report everything to my mother,” you said. “I mean…it’s supposed to be for my safety and all, but my mother abuses the system. Makes them all think I’m one seizure away from needing a full-time caretaker. If they see me being carried by a strange man…”

He smiled, and you swore there was a bit of an edge to it. “Strange? I don’t think I’m that strange.”

“N-no! I don’t think you’re strange at all,” you insisted. “I just mean–”

“I’m kidding,” he said, placing his free hand on the curve of your shoulder and giving you a friendly jostle. “I understand overbearing mothers, believe me. At least let me walk you to your door. I’ve even got some of my bunker gear with me if you want me to look the part.”

“Bunker gear?” you asked.

“Ah, the firefighter suit–you know; yellow jacket and all that.”

“Would you wear that as a paramedic?” you asked.

“Do you really think they’d have the reasoning skills to analyze it that much?” he quipped back, quirking an eyebrow.

You looked up at the building and considered it. You didn’t see any of the worst of your neighbors peering out of their windows. You fiddled with your fingernail a little as you chewed on your lip.

You finally looked up at Cooper again and shrugged. “Can’t hurt, I guess.”

“Great. One second while I suit up,” he said. “Why don’t you just sit back in the passenger seat while you wait.”

He helped you back into the seat and, once sure you weren’t wobbling, he went to the hatchback of his SUV. You peered through the gap between the headrest and the seat as Cooper quickly pulled off his coat, then grabbed the neckline of his sweater.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you realized you might see the man shirtless, but as the sweater came off over his head, you realized he was wearing a navy blue t-shirt with the logo for the Philadelphia Fire Department.

“You always just wearing that stuff on your day off?” you asked.

His eyes flashed to yours and he smirked. “You always just watching strange men get changed?”

You felt your face heat and you looked away from him. “Touche,” you muttered begrudgingly.

He chuckled, but something pricked at the back of your neck. He didn’t answer your question. Silence fell between you, the only sounds the faint hiss of clothing being changed. You tried not to think too hard about the zipper you heard.

What were you doing? Talking to this guy like he could ever be into you. Aside from being at least ten years younger than him, he was wearing a damned wedding ring. You’d seen it.

But could you be blamed, really? For enjoying even a little flirtation? It wasn't as if your mother would ever let you actually date someone.

You rubbed your forehead as her words echoed in your head.

With your condition? You’re too vulnerable! The only men who would ever try to go after you are the ones who have something they want to get out of you. Even if you tried to hide it, they would find out soon enough.

It was only a few seconds before Cooper appeared before you again, fully decked out in his suit, his jacket remaining open and showing that well-fitted t-shirt. “Alright, illusion in place,” he said. “Ready for our ruse?”

“Ready,” you said, standing up a little slower this time.

He smiled and jerked his head over to your apartment building, as if saying lead the way.

You turned and started making your way to the apartment building. Really, it was more like a large home that had been converted into small studios, each one given brand new appliances and a fresh coat of paint as if that would replace the decrepit wiring that prevented you from running your air conditioner and your microwave at the same time. As if it would evict all of the mice making their own apartments in the walls.

The front door was always unlocked, you opened it and led him in.

The foyer sported some glum-looking blue-grey carpet. That kinda carpet they put in office buildings because they were supposedly stain-proof by virtue of being multiple shades of that morose looking blue-grey. Of course, there were plenty of stains left on it since the carpet was placed lord knows when.

The wainscoting on the walls had seen better days and the railing on the stairs was unstable at worst, obnoxiously creaky at best.

When you looked back at Cooper, he was scanning the space, his brows raised, his eyes squinting skeptically.

“You think it’s a dump,” you said.

“I didn’t say that,” he said, lifting his hands in mock surrender

“Yeah, you don’t have to. I can read it on your face,” you said. “Come on, my studio’s upstairs.”

You approached the stairs with him and as you started making your way up them, you felt the faint hover of Cooper’s hand ghost over the small of your back. When you looked back at him he shrugged.

“Just in case,” he said.

He walked with you up the stairs and you waved at the door-bell cameras of the nosiest of your neighbors. You heard Cooper huff a breathy laugh and when you looked back at him, he gave you a knowing wink that left you feeling warm and tingly under your collar.

Just as you neared your door at the end of the hall, the one directly across from yours opened up and your neighbor stepped out, seemingly unperturbed by Cooper’s presence.

“Oh, you’re home,” he said. “Late night for you. And a paramedic? You didn’t have a seizure did you?”

“Good day to you too, Randal,” you said dryly.

Randal was an older man. Older than Cooper. He had some obsession with you, or maybe your mother. Or maybe both. You’d caught him going through your laundry in the shared laundry room, he’d made the odd inappropriate comment or two about your habits or your body. Even asked you about the subject of your virginity once.

He was also the number one ally of your overbearing mother.

You felt your body tighten up with discomfort, the same discomfort you were used to with Randal.

It always felt like he was leering over you. Like he was waiting for the chance for you to seize. For the chance to get his hands on your body when it was most vulnerable.

You inhaled to answer his barrage of questions, but you didn’t get a chance to.

You didn’t get a chance to because Cooper cut in.

“Actually, we’re just repaying a good turn where one was given to us,” he lied smoothly. “It’s not every day that a good samaritan reports an arsonist and hangs around to try and stamp a fresh forest fire out. We were really lucky she was there. I’d never hear the end of it from my wife if I let her take the bus home after preventing a major disaster.”

You openly balked at Cooper at the same time Randal did, though for a different reason.

That lie was…so convincing. So convincing that you almost believed it.

Randal looked at you, his wiry brows furrowing. “Don’t you think that was a little risky?” he asked. “With your fits, and all?”

You found yourself looking up at Cooper, as if seeking guidance from him. His focus was on Randal, though–his lips curved in a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s a strange way to thank someone for protecting you,” he said. “And you know, I think she’s pretty tired.”

Cooper looked down at you, his smile genuine now. “You were just telling me how exhausted you were, right?”

“R-right,” you said, nodding up at him and looking toward Randal. “Goodnight, Randal.”

You looked up at Cooper one last time and smiled. “Goodnight. Thanks for all your help,” you said, hoping he understood that you really did mean all of the help. From the seizure to dealing with Randal in an easy way.

“Sure thing,” he said. “Oh, and–”

He reached into the pocket of his gear and pulled out a little pink sticky note. It had a phone number hastily scrawled on it along with his name.

“If you ever have any issues–smell any gas leaks or have any concerns about fire code infractions, feel free to call me here. I’ll come right over,” he said.

“O-oh,” you said, wondering when he got the chance to prepare the little note. Wondering if he did it while he was changing by the car. “Thanks Cooper.”

He nodded. “Rest well,” he said, his eyes flicking over to your door. A silent encouragement for you to flee while Randal was busy being embarrassed.

“Thanks,” you said, turning and fumbling with your key a bit before letting yourself into your apartment and shutting the door behind you.

#trap movie fic #trap movie #trap 2024 #Cooper/reader #hazards of endearment

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amandacanwrite · 9 months ago

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Hazards of Endearment || Chapter Two: Recollection

Pairing || Cooper Adams (Abbott?) / Female Reader

Fandom || Trap (2024)

Tag List || @amethystblackkchaos @dirtylittlefairytales

Cooper kept his eyes on the ground as he waited for your answer. His body sang with tension; each sinew coiled in anticipation of having to jump the gun on taking his next victim.

You had seen him. You’d caught sight of him as he disposed of his most recent kill. He didn’t know how long you’d watched him before he caught sight of you, but it was long enough that when his brown eyes met yours, you ran.

You were small, and you were fast, but he was faster; more physically fit. He’d had a longer stride and could cross the same distance in one step as you could in two.

You’d gotten all the way to the top of Mourner’s Peak and he’d given you two options; take a leap off the cliffside, or come with him.

But it seemed your body chose a third option.

He watched with surprise as your face went pale and you became eerily still.

He thought it was the look of someone who had realized they’d lost; someone who was going to lose their life by his hand. But the expression was too blank–too empty. Something was wrong. Dissociation, maybe? Freeze response?

But then, your eyes had rolled back in your head. He watched as you dropped to the ground and every muscle in your body contracted; your back arching as if in the throes of passion, your arms and legs straightening to the point that he was sure it would be painful if you were at all aware.

A grand mal, also called a tonic clonic. But the onset was slow–maybe it started as a temporal lobe seizure and became a grand mal?

He’d started dragging you away from the cliffside and gotten you on your side when your body had gone slack and your breathing had calmed. Your seizure had passed. And as you slowly regained your faculties, your eyes had no fear or apprehension when they’d met his. There had been no recognition in your gaze at all.

It was all too perfect.

So perfect that he had to risk it. He had to be sure. He had to test your recollection.

If you remembered anything it would be easy enough to haul you back up to the peak and throw you off of it. Or to put you in his van and take you to one of his safe houses.

“Mnh…” you said as he made it half-way down the incline. “The bus.”

“The bus?” he asked.

“Can’t drive with the seizures,” you said.

“Ah, right,” he said. “What else?”

“Do you know much about seizures? How they work in the brain?” you asked him.

Yes, he thought to himself. “No,” he lied.

“I usually have temporal lobe seizures–they look kind of like zoning out–and then they develop into grand mal seizures right after,” you said. “The temporal lobe handles memory, so it’s not uncommon for me to lose a few hours or even most of a day after I have one.”

Good, he thought.

“How often do you have them?” he asked.

“A couple times a month,” you said. “Though I usually can tell if I’m going to have a tough day. I usually stay home on those days. Guess this one snuck up on me.”

Unseen to you, he closed his eyes and gave a silent, relieved exhale. Though if he was honest, he wasn’t sure why he was so relieved. It wouldn’t have been the first time he cleaned up a loose end, though the need to do so was rare. He was, after all, meticulous.

Which brought him to his next question.

“What brought you out to Mourner’s Peak, anyway?” he asked you. “It’s got a reputation for being a bit morbid.”

“What brought you out here then?” you asked.

“I asked you first,” he insisted, sneaking a look back at you to make sure your expression hadn’t changed.

It had, but not in the way he was fearing. You were averting your eyes, there was a little extra color dusting the apples of your cheeks and the bridge of your nose. Embarrassment. Sheepishness. Someone who didn’t want him to think you were odd.

He could work with that. Oh yes, he could work with that.

“I guess I just…have a fascination…with the macabre,” you said.

“Ah,” he said. “A local urban legend chaser, then.”

Mourner’s Peak, according to local lore, was said to be a cursed place for couples. Starting back in the 1800’s when a man, rejected in courtship by his childhood friend, asked her to meet him at the peak. When she’d arrived, he’d asked for an embrace.

And then he’d held onto her as he’d jumped off the cliffside, killing them both.

Since then, it had been the site of multiple suicides and murders and was rumored to be haunted or cursed or whatever it was. The superstition wasn’t why Cooper had picked it as a dumping location. He picked it because it was a hard trail and it was generally avoided because of the silly rumors about it.

“Tell me more about this fascination,” he said, doing his best to sound warm and inviting. Non-judgemental. “You seem a little young for morbid inclinations. What are you, twenty?”

“Wow, thanks–no I’m twenty-seven,” you said. “And…well… I guess I’ve had enough close calls to be a little curious about it.”

Cooper smiled to himself, enjoying a private joke at your expense. Enjoying that you had no idea just how close this particular call had been for you.

“So is that the kinda stuff you do for fun, then? Paranormal investigating? Hanging out in graveyards? Ouiji boards?” He asked.

“Now you’re just being mean,” you said.

He gave a pleasant chuckle, finally making it to the base of the incline before the trail leveled out. He adjusted you up on his back a little further, rolling his neck once as he tried to ignore the primal part of him that responded to the way his hands pressed into the soft curve of your thigh.

“You never told me what you were doing out here,” you pointed out.

“I live nearby,” he lied smoothly. “It’s a good trail to take to keep fit, and it’s nice enough out here that I don’t feel like I’m actually exercising.”

“Mnh,” you said. “I guess it works, you’re carrying me like it’s nothing. Not even breaking a sweat.”

“This 6’3” stature has its uses,” he said.

This was exactly what he was hoping for. Nice, boring, pleasant conversation. The kind of conversation that put people at ease.

It was quiet for a few moments after that. The sound of his steady breaths and the crunch of gravel beneath his boots were the only things that could be heard.

He lost himself in thought for a while. Lost himself in revised plans for hiding the body. In what excuse he would give to Rachel for missing dinner. Then the weight of your head dropped onto his shoulder; your breath rustling the hair at the back of his neck and making his arms prickle with gooseflesh beneath the sleeves of his sweater.

“You alright?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, I usually sleep all day after a seizure,” you said. “I’m just so tired.”

Something tightened in his stomach; an emotion he usually only felt for Riley or Logan. Endearment. The desire to protect. A strange shift considering he was killing you just moments ago. He wondered where it came from.

“Sleep if you want,” he said. “We’ve got probably about an hour before we make it back to the beginning of the trail.”

“I don’t want to be even heavier on your back,” you said, your voice growing hoarse with sleep.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “This is easy mode. Contrary to popular belief, it’s actually easier to carry someone on your back when they’re dead weight. Makes you just kinda drape onto me instead of worrying about where your limbs are placed. Besides, you’re really not that heavy.”

“You’re sure?” you asked.

“Positive,” he said. “I’ll wake you when we get to my car and figure out where I’m taking you, alright?”

“Mnh,” you said again in answer.

And just after that, your weight slackened against him. Every soft curve of your body, every ounce of weight strangely comforting to him as he continued down the trail.

And there is something about you, he realizes.

Something that he doesn’t feel like sharing.

#Cooper/ reader #trap movie fic #Cooper abbott #Cooper adams #dark romance #slow burn

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amandacanwrite · 9 months ago

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Hazards of Endearment || Chapter One: Seized

Pairing || Cooper Adams (Abbott?) / Female Reader

Fandom || Trap (2024)

Tag List || @amethystblackkchaos

Your surroundings came back to you in waves, like they always did.

First, there was sound. A sort of cacophonous, echoing version of the ambient noise that usually slipped under the radar of your notice as you went through your day to day life. The light breeze rustling past your ear felt more like lying down for a nap in a JPL wind tunnel; the soft bird calls had the same grating keen of a blaring car alarm. You could hear the tired sawing of your breaths in and out of your lungs, passing through painfully clenched teeth.

“Easy,” a calm voice said behind you, the voice was the only sound that didn’t feel too loud . “You’re alright, try to relax your jaw. You’re safe.”

You took the voice’s suggestion, loosening your jaw as you realized that your eyes were open, though still unseeing as your brain was only just beginning to fire up the synapses along your optic nerve. You blinked your eyes a few times, taking in your surroundings and trying to remember how you arrived at this moment.

“Have you had other seizures before?” the voice asked. “Is there someone with you who knows your medical history?”

You have had seizures before. Right, that’s what happened, you’d had a seizure.

You were suddenly aware of a warm hand on your shoulder, strong as it propped you up on your side. Your body was sore; tired. You felt like you got hit by a truck. But whoever was behind you knew what he was doing. He had gotten you turned onto your side to avoid aspirating any saliva or vomit. You didn’t have a wallet or a stranger’s hand shoved in your mouth. Thank god for that; you’d had enough of broken teeth thanks to the “help” of strangers.

Your mouth was paper dry as you licked your lips and closed your eyes; your head was spinning.

“No, I’m here by myself,” you said. “And yes, I’m an epileptic.”

“Not very wise of you to go hiking on your own as an epileptic, don’t you think?” the voice asked. It was friendly, maybe even a little paternal. “You’re lucky I happened to hit this hill around the same time you dropped.”

You nibbled on the inside of your lip. Maybe the stranger was right, but it was hard not to resent him for saying it. “What happened?” you asked, purposefully leaving his fussy question unanswered.

“Can you sit up? I’m a paramedic, I just want to get a look at you.”

“Can you help me?” you asked.

“Of course. Come on, up you go,” he said.

A strong arm curved underneath you and propped you up with ease. You finally got a look at the man who’d helped you. He was middle aged; maybe in his late thirties, early forties. He was wearing a grey sweater with two red stripes across his broad chest and a simple yellow jacket over it. Around his neck was a grey scarf, undone and a bit disheveled, as if he’d had to loosen it while he was helping you get through the seizure safely. A few strands of his hair hung down in front of his eyes. He was handsome.

He was kneeling next to you, his worn denim pressed into the damp clay beneath the both of you. His hazel eyes flickered as they examined yours for a moment. Then he used his free hand to open his coat pocket and take out his cell phone.

You fixated on the red accents of his phone case as he unlocked it and turned on the phone flashlight. He shined it in each of your eyes.

“Pupils are nice and responsive,” he said. “Unfortunately, there’s no service up here so I can’t call a med-evac for you.”

“I couldn’t afford it even if you did,” you said. “My last ambulance ride almost cost me my apartment.”

He cringed apologetically. “American medical system,” he said with grim understanding. “Still, I can’t just let you hike back down on your own.”

You blinked, realizing how fucked you actually were.

You couldn’t keep hiking in your state. You could barely stand.

You wracked your brain, searching for the memory of exactly which hiking trail you were on. Your temporal lobe epilepsy wasn’t helping things, though. It wasn’t uncommon for you to lose hours or even days after a seizure if it was bad enough.

“Where exactly are we?” you asked.

“Mourner’s peak trail, almost to the peak, in fact,” he said. “You seized right at the top of the incline. The blood probably all rushed to your legs as you tried to get to the top. It’s a pretty tough incline even for me.”

“And I guess that means that you’re some sort of impressive specimen of physical prowess?” you said dryly.

His kind eyes crinkled a bit as his brows quirked upward. He gave an incredulous huff as he smirked. “Not trying to brag or anything, but in order to join the fire department I did have to prove I could carry a man to safety,” he said. “Which is a good thing for you.”

“Why?” you asked.

“You’re going to need to be carried down, aren’t you?” he asked.

Your heart thudded in your ears and you felt the stirrings of another aura. Damn it, you hated how sensitive you were right after a seizure. You turned your head, looking at a blood-colored leaf on the ground, willing yourself to breathe through the way sound took on that cacophonous echo again.

There was the overwhelming sense of dread that always came before a seizure, then the feeling of a warm hand on your back, drawing smooth circles over your hoodie.

“You alright?” the paramedic asked. “The color just drained out of your face. Another aura?”

You were quiet for a few moments longer as you took long, controlled breaths. “It’s almost passed,” you said. “But I think you’re right. I might need to be carried down. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, don’t be sorry. This is my life’s work,” he said. “It’s not that hard of a walk on the way down. One of the perks of this trail being mostly uphill.”

You nodded.

“Are you ready to get going now? Or do you need a few minutes?”

“I think I’d like to go now,” you said.

“Alright,” he said. “Let’s get you hoisted up, then.”

He drew his hand away from your back and adjusted himself to squat in front of you. He patted one shoulder with the opposite hand. “Place your hands up here for me,” he said.

“Y-you’re going to give me a piggyback ride?” you asked.

“It’s either that or I have to throw you over my shoulder in a fireman carry,” he said looking back ag you sidelong, a bit of amusement in his tone.

“No–no thank you,” you mumbled.

“Thought so,” he said, patting his shoulder one more time.

You placed your hands on his shoulders and he grasped your forearms, pulling you forward with ease and taking both of your wrists within a single, large hand. He reached back with the now freed one sliding beneath the curve of your thigh, catching the crook of your leg, hefting you onto his back and standing in one smooth motion.

The muscle memory kicked in after that. You clasped your hands on your opposite forearms in front of his chest.

“Atta girl,” he said, hooking his other hand under your knee and hitching you higher on his back. “Off we go.”

He turned around, angling slightly to the side as he carefully made his way down the steep incline you’d seized on. You watched his profile as his jaw flexed with effort and focus. He was being so careful to keep from slipping that you could feel the faint tremble in the muscles of his core.

“So,” he still managed to say conversationally. “What’s the last thing you remember before you lost consciousness?”

#trap 2024 #trap movie #trap 2024 fic #Cooper/reader #Cooper adams/reader #dark romance

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