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#dale cooper imagines
olipeaksforever · 11 days
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twin peaks the return spoilers below but this has been driving me insane
the way diane/linda covers cooper/richard's face when they have sex because she knows it's the cooper she loves and doesn't want her memories of mr.c to taint her memories with him... yet she covers it because she remembers. and cooper tries to help her when she starts to panic but she covers his face because of mr.c...
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fire-lord-katara · 1 year
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I've seen a lot of post of Blanc meeting/talking with another famous detectives and their great and all but, where are the posts of him with Special Agent Dale Cooper
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frogsmulder · 1 year
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New hc forming.... Scully and Coop would have been best friends at the academy if they went at the same time (let's pretend they did) because they are both li'l autistic buddies not taking anyones shit. Like they'd have a weekly morning coffee and discuss all the cool new things they had learnt that week and info dump with each other about their studies.
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depressopax · 1 month
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Dale Cooper NSFW Alphabet
Part 3 - L - P
Fandom - Twin Peaks
|| Part 1 || Part 2 ||
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Pairing: Dale Cooper x gender neutral reader Genre: Smut, headcanons Warning(s): Sexual content! MDNI! Words: 600 Summary: Part 3 of my "Dale Cooper NSFW alphabet challenge". L-P (Location, motivation, "No", oral, pace) English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! <3 || Masterlist || Request ||
(HOLY SHIT THE GIF GOT ME ACTING UP-)
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L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Bed! Dale likes privacy. He wants you alone and to really take his time together with you. 
…And he wants to be able to cuddle afterwards. Homeboy tired af after sex lmao
It is also the most “hygienic” place. 
He is not a fan of doing it against a table etc
…His office is the only exception ;)
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M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Dirty talking. He loves it when you tell him all the things you want to do with him/the things you want him to do to you.
In a modern time AU… I’d say nudes, too. 
Nothing better than getting nudes from you. It awkward, but he likes the thrill of you teasing him with sexy photos whilst he works. 
He blushes like crazy 
Dale would probably have a whole private album on his phone with you.
Not necessarily nudes, just any photo you look hot/cute in to keep his fantasies going.
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N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Dale is pretty “vanilla” in bed.
Sure he likes trying new things nut he gets really shy and uncomfortable if it’s too kinky.
He wouldn’t enjoy anything to do with pain and blood. 
He hates the thought of seeing you in pain. It doesn’t matter if it’s part of the act, he wants to pleasure you - not hurt you.
Same thing goes for him. His job is dangerous enough in all they ways he can end up hurt. With you, he wants to feel safe and in bed he wants it to be all about pleasure and maybe intensity.
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O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
LOVES giving.
Man… I could talk about this for hours.
…But I’m not gonna do that. Unless…
In your relationship, Dale was insecure at first.
But after the reactions from you when he used his oral skills - he was hooked.
He is amazed by how amazing he can make you feel, just by using his mouth and tongue.
He’s passionate doing it, too.
Slow, teasing movements and eye contact.
He likes it when you push him around a bit - like grabbing his hair, holding him in place or squeezing your thighs gently around his head etc etc…
He also knows how to use his hands during oral. Double pleasure it is 👀
Your moans, squirms and the way you taste on his tongue… Sometimes that’s honestly enough for him to cum undone. 
How can he not? Everything about the situation is arousing.
He’ll literally beg to go down on you. 
Yk what? Fuck it, Ima write headcanons for this. REMIND ME PLEASE, SOMEONE
Ofc he likes receiving too.
He’s not the head-pusher type. 
It’s totally up to you how you want to blow him. 
…Giving him heads under his desk when he does paperworks 👀
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P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
He prefers slow, sensual and loving.
He likes long, deep strokes and really savoring the feelings of being inside you.
This way, he can take in the feeling of your tightness and warmth, and feel your insides hug around his dick 
Although, fast and rough is a good way to release tension.
If you are more of a sub/bottom, he will not say no to fucking you hard and fast
…And he gives some DAMN GOOD (pun intended) aftercare after rough sex <3
If you are a dom/top, he will sometimes ask you to show him no mercy. 
Sometimes there’s no better stress-remedy than to get fucked dumb by the person he loves 🥹
*sigh* *opens character ai*
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latoyalestrange · 1 year
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ya’ll….i am so sorry lmao
besties, i’m officially back. here’s a new list of fandoms in writing for <3
dale cooper x reader
spencer reid x reader
aaron hotchner x reader
fezco x reader
harry potter x reader
ron weasley x reader
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agentcoops · 4 months
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going insane thinking about the reunions coop should've had
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willowhaired · 2 years
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Safe
Dale Cooper × Reader
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Summary: You receive some bad news at the doctors and you're comforted by your boyfriend, Cooper.
Word count: 1,776
Trigger warning: illness, depression, body dismorphia?, some curse words
A/N: Okay, so I'm still awaiting my full evaluation, and one night I just word-vomited this piece out with all my fears and feelings. It turned out to be very dark and triggering, so I understand if it's not somebody's cup of the (or coffee). Also, there's only so much comfort as I was able to muster, but I'd say it's still heartwarming.
When you took the trip into the city to see the doctors it seemed like an ordinary medical examination - you certainly did not expect anything to come out of it, maybe just a sad sigh from your doctor that it's a nuisance you'd have to live with. Oh, you wished.
Now, you drove past tall trees, going uphill before taking a slight turn to see the town sign.
Twin Peaks, population 51,201.
You swallowed hard. You felt so sick to your stomach that you wished you could throw up just so you'd feel a little better. Even the pine-y freshness of Douglas firs and the mountain air gave you no comfort, rather nauseated you. You approached big Ed's gas station and although you were low on fuel, you drove right past it. Your eyes were still teary and swollen and your lips trembled every now and then - if you'd met somebody, which was unavoidable, you'd have to explain yourself, and it was something you wanted to avoid.
Your hands were reluctant to turn the wheel to follow the curve of the road up to your home. It was a house in the woods you were so excited to move into with your boyfriend, the FBI agent who came here to investigate the uncanny case of Laura Palmer. It must have been irony that after moving to Washington DC to get your degree, you were to move back to your hometown because the man you dated fell in love with it just as deeply as he fell in love with you. You met Cooper while still in DC, because you got involved in a case as a witness. You were still in shock from the events, but the agent's words emanated such gentle compassion that your nerves eased in no time. You looked into his eyes and he locked on yours and you both stayed that way until you recounted the happenings best to your knowledge. He even escorted you out of the building and got one of his colleagues to give you a ride home. 'Miss Y/L/N, we'll call you if we need any more information,' he said as a goodbye. 'You can call me just for a coffee,' you replied bluntly and very much to your surprise, but he wasn't taken aback. It all felt natural, like everything else with the two of you. 'I'll take you up on your word.'
That was two years ago. Your grip on the wheel was so stiff, your knuckles turned whiter than the freshly painted walls in the kitchen. All memories stung your chest.
***
You tried to fall asleep but failed miserably. Since Dale didn't arrive home early, you didn't want to be a nuisance; he'd be tired anyway. Yet you felt like ants were crawling under your skin and in any position you could not settle, as if your joints were always misplaced. No matter how you turned it just did not feel right. Under the sheets, you were burning up, but if you threw them off it left you vulnerable as if they were literal safety blankets. You've already taken endless showers, hoping that maybe the warmth would relax your cramped body or that the cold would envigorate you and get you out of your mind. Nothing worked. You couldn't focus for one sentence when reading a book, and you just as quickly lost track of any show that was on TV.
Invitation to love my ass.
You found it hard to stay in bed, however, getting up was just as difficult. You sank into the mattress with new weight. Gravity was pulling you closer to the ground, its slimy hands gripped all around your bones.
Nevertheless, you scrambled up, leaving behind the lingering scent of Dale's cologne that pulled at your heartstrings and made you run away from your shared bed. You didn't bother to turn any light on. You knew every nook and cranny of the house, besides, you felt undeserving of light. It would've made no difference.
You headed to the living room. The couch? No. Armchair? No… Neither sitting nor lying back down seemed inviting. You spent an inordinate amount of time just standing in the middle of the room until…
Well, until the tears came.
Was it the sound of crickets outside or the wind crashing the tree's branches against the window, you could not tell. All the things that had brought comfort to you before turned suddenly to be painful reminders of a very recent past when you were carefree. The heaviness of the news broke you down and you curled up on the rug. The tears kept running down your face as you wept - not like a child, but like an adult. A strong grown-up that was miserable and powerless against an illness that was wasting away their body. And it was a lot scarier than a crying child. Your face was wet and your hands cramped into fists. You threw yourself from one side to the other. You could barely breathe. Hurt in your chest. Tantrum. Desperation. Blurred images flashed before your eyes.
Then, you stopped.
You knelt up like a ragdoll. Your jaw tingled with a blunt electricity while you allowed the tears to run down your face. Your breathing became alarmingly normal in just a matter of seconds and after the excruciating, trance-like pain your chest was empty, like a void. It was a whirling black hole, swallowing everything yet it made no difference. It was empty the same.
Another sensation evaded your body: would Dale still love you? You felt hideous even though the changes were far from happening; you were still the same person you were yesterday or even this morning, yet somehow you detested your body. To you, it looked crippled, broken. Your own body betrayed you and it filled you with rage and sorrow. Any plans or visions you had for the future were clouded over by this knowledge. It reserved your mind for itself but then, facing and actually naming it you could not bring yourself to. It was the only thing you can think about, yet… No, you were not going there. It made your stomach turn and your fingers twitch.
Who were you kidding, who would want you? Why would anyone love you? A mother wouldn't love a miserable piece of…
The door clicked open and it sent you into instant panic. You gathered yourself from the floor and smeared the tears away, although the texture of the rug remained stamped into your knees. It ignited another train of thought that made all energy leave you and you were on the verge of both crying and laughing. One refill of tears, please.
No, no, get yourself together, Dale cannot see you like this…
But he did. You were too lost in thought to notice him enter and then pause as soon as he saw you standing awkwardly in the middle of the dimly lit living room. 'Y/N… Are you alright?' Cooper asked and the softness of his voice brought you comfort, but it was heavy and bittersweet. You could not bring yourself to look him in the eye so you tried to hide behind your hair, covering your face nervously with your hand. Damn, even looking at that couch was painful. 'Yeah, sure,' you forced your voice to sound cheerful, yet Dale could not be fooled. Although you perfected your "I'm fine"-lie, not only did he always know, this wasn't even your best performance on it. Maybe you'd still get a pass, maybe you can avoid telling him… A deep concern contorted his face. He threw his suit jacket on the closest armchair, then walked up to you - slow, and careful, not to scare you off. He gently placed his hands on your upper arms, leaning towards you in search of your eyes. 'Was the doctor's visit so upsetting?' He spoke so softly it could've almost been a whisper. Your breathing was becoming steadier. You greatly underestimated how calming his presence was and how safe you felt around him - only now there was a fear of how long would that safety stay. 'Y/N…' he begged and cupped your face, trying to get your attention. His fingers were incredibly soft against your face, his touch grounding you into reality for the first time since you stepped out of the clinic. Everything was a blur since you got the news, you existed in a different dimension until now. You looked into his eyes. 'I'm so sorry, Dale, I didn't want to upset you…' 'You don't have to apologise for anything,' he reassured you. 'Can you tell me what happened?' 'It's late. You must be tired.' 'I'm always down for coffee.' The remark made you chuckle. You reached up to grab his hand still resting on your cheek and you placed a kiss into his palm. He pressed his forehead against yours. 'I don't know if I can talk about it,' you admitted weakly. 'You don't have to, baby.' This made the tear ducts open. You buried your face into his chest and he held you close. His arms pressed you against him so tightly that it was bordering unbearable. 'I'm afraid you wouldn't love me if you knew,' you muttered, hoping that he wouldn't hear - but with him, it was impossible. Icy terror spread his chest; the mere idea that you'd phantom such a thing… 'Please, don't say this,' he said quietly. 'It doesn't matter what happens, I love you and nothing changes that.' 'You don't even know…' 'I don't have to,' he interrupted firmly which was so unlike him and surprisingly not rude - because it was honest. You were beginning to feel like a person again. Your vision cleared and you saw his face, his light and wise eyes, all the lines you became so familiar with. He placed his lips on yours with a tenderness that was unmatchable. It wasn't ghostlike, but it was soft, loving, and warm. It was a seal to a promise. Was it you? Did you start to feel like yourself again?
He parted from you and ran his hand up your back. 'Now, I know a place that is still open and I also know someone who loves a good cherry pie just much as I do. You don't have to come in, I'll get the pie and the coffee and we can have it in the car,' Cooper offered with a smile. You'd give up all music just to listen to him speak. 'Sounds great.' 'It's a date, then,' he said and kissed your hand.
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limonadecandy · 1 year
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I had to know that Linda Evangelista left Kyle McLachlan for Fabien Barthez so now you have to live with it as well.
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dale-b-cooper-fbi · 1 year
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Diane: it's 3:53pm.
I cannot stand cherry pie today and it's making me both deviated and angry with myself, and sick to smell and eat.
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queen-of-the-queers · 2 years
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Maybe if someone washed my feet my mental illness would go away?
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shamblz · 9 days
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Reeling over the end of s2 of twin peaks
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stampstamp · 2 years
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*Watches a $36,000 private hotel room tour*
Free mind palace 😏
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froody · 3 months
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the wardrobe tests are so fucking funny could you imagine if we got this Dale Cooper
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beat it toots these streets aren’t what they used to be
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mikeyfuckinway · 17 days
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the way to make horror movies not scary is to imagine dale cooper is there because he wouldnt be scared he would be very proactive about the situation. this revelation was bestowed to me in a dream
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holyghostbelle · 2 months
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all those vile things
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dannyjohnson!ghostface x reader blessed with quick wit and and a long list of medication your beginning to think being obsessed with a stalker couldn't be more healthier
09’
You lie back and smoke a cigarette, a bottle of jack in your hand spilling on the oversized band t-shirt you wore fished out from a thrift store from some tour you never got tickets for. Your eyes are glued to the tv, yet half interested in the House of a 1000 corpses movie rented out from blockbuster 2 months ago, There's ash on your notepad, not that you had taken any notes yourself, you take to sipping and gulping down any intoxicating beverage you can get your hands on these days, you're on the edge from the local killer.
(kind of, but not really you hope he stabs you with his knife and then licks it up, it's more of an excuse to get intoxicated and then pass out to an episode of dateline)
You rip open a pack of m&ms with your teeth and that guy from the office dies, his body is turned into a fish and you laugh maniacally as the dumb girls run into a room with another killer, and then Otis has corpse paint on and as much as his sideburns disgust you but you can't help feeling attracted to the guy, you feel sick at the thought of being oddly aroused but it's okay because its not real! and it's not like you fantasising about ted bundy or anything, but you did stalk the true crime tag on tumblr and find a bunch of fan edits with flower crowns.   You fall asleep on the sofa and then wake up at 3 in the morning. Moving to the comfort of your bed which is only 5 feet away from the small second hand cracked leather sofa, you toss and turn until you're stuck on your back, hands unable to grip the sheets as you watch black oozing from the ceiling, you imagine its sentient and can peer into your brain and witness how sick you truly are, and then you wake up and it's 8am, you go to college  in the clothes from last night, your laces are undone and you trip over them on the street while inhaling a cigarette and drinking a monster energy drink, it spills onto denim and leaves a small sticky wet patch.  
You fell asleep in your film studies class, seven different people had all chosen ‘twin peaks:fire walk with me’ to write an essay on. You laugh as they speak nonsensically about Laura Palmer and how the movie was more about discovering who she was than how she was murdered, it's all the same recycled garbage you said a year ago, back when your professor was that feminist guy. You picture Dale Cooper in a red room, you remember when the constant jokes from the simpsons, you think about Laura Palmer's cold blue body on the beach wrapped in plastic and then how david lynch left the show and it all became fucked up. Someone drones on about American psycho and how the murders were in his head. 
You leave class, smoke a cigarette outside in the parking lot and lean against your beat up car. Your cracked ipod nano plays Jeff Buckley and Elliott Smith simultaneously and then some 80s song you used to be so obsessed with and it reminds you of how your ex drove you home after you broke up with him, how his hand gripped yours and you didn't hold it back. You don't sob like usual. You don't think about how he was so angry he held your neck without squeezing, just to look you in the eyes and call you a bitch. 
You fidget with your dungarees and then drive to work. Leaning against the counter as you watch kids flick through comics and then flick though vinyls laughing at covers with girls with their huge tits out, and then looking at the r-rated movies with eyes and needles. Then leaving a mess and stepping out of the shop without buying anything. You steal a pack of gum from the display in front of you and change the cassette to the b side, you repeat this till it's 8pm and dark outside.
Then it's time to close up the shop, shutting the blinds, switching off all the lights, you close and lock the front door with the keys, and shove them deep into your pocket. It's a cold and icy night. You pull the vintage motorcycle jacket you stole from your ex around your shoulders and light a cigarette. Walking around the side of the shop deep into the alleyway to get your car from the employee car park behind all the shops, you stop in your tracks. Gravel kicking against the wall.
Theres a whine and a moan and you almost think someones fucking until you notice the trail of blood that leads exactly to the body in the corner, who ever it is put up a fight. There's a man clambering over him, a camera swinging to the side of his body as you watch him cut deep into his chest,his guts spill intestines falling out into the concrete like confetti, you hear it slap to the floor. You feel sick. 
The body looks at you  pleading and begging with its eyes and he moans, your eyes widen and the man with the camera looks directly at you, his masked face cocking to the side in curiosity, you shake and look over to your car which is and i say this lightly, funnily enough right next to the killer and his victim. Blood coating the exterior. Bloody streaks over the silver paint, you almost feel bad for yourself knowing how much it's gonna cost to clean the blood off your car. It's selfish really. Consider there a man choking on his own blood right in front of you.
You think about backing away and running…but you stand frozen and watch the man bleed out, his blood pouring out like an afterthought. White masked man snaps a photo, and then another he slashes at the victim's throat, the life drains quickly out of his eyes and you watch him take one last ragged breath as his eyes tell you to run as fast as you can. 
Then he turns his black eyes and gaping jaw keeping you in place, his leather gloved hand shushes at you as he approaches like a predator to his prey.
 You.
Your heart thumps against your chest. He pushes you to the brick wall, you whine at how harsh you hit it. He takes the cigarette out of your hand leather brushing against your coldfinger tips and presses it to your mouth. 
‘Go on, smoke it’ His voice is gravely and deep.
You puff on the cancerous stick, you picture him smiling under the mask. He stares at you through mesh eyes. Your hands are scratching at the brick wall behind you. 
How many minutes do you have left? Will he leave you to bleed, or watch?
Suddenly there's a knife against your throat. It's cold and unforgiving and you've forgotten how to breathe. It brushes to just under your chin and then it's tracing against your cheek, you whimper as it catches, a bead of blood rolling down, he catches it with his thumb and smears it on your lips, cigarette falling to the floor, smoke exhaling as your eyes tear up. Your eyebrows furrow, eyes closing ready to meet your demise, cunt throbbing, as you feel the air against your neck, you wait for it to plunge your hands tight around your coat.
“Are you going to kill me?” you whimper, the knife trails deeper, to your sternum and you feel hot breath on your neck, there's a sniff and the zipper of your jacket catches and it pulled down, you don't dare look waiting in anticipation, you feel you him unbuckle your dungarees the denim falling to your crutch and then your t-shirt lifts up there's a pause, cold against your skin, cold air and then the steel slices into you with ease, you feel yourself lean over and his hand pushes your head back into the wall until your upright. It tears through quickly soiling your clothes with red sticky blood.
 “If you're going to kill me, do it already” you whimper at him. His touch leaves you and you await for his hard hand to push the steel metal into you. It never comes.
Your eyes open slowly and he's gone, you stand for a minute and peek your eyes round the corner to stare at the body. Hand clutching at the wound he gave you, spanning four inches. Blood coating your hand.
You call the police obviously, you're questioned all night after you're all stitched up. you tell them about him approaching you, but not how he pressed his thumb to your lips and your cunt throbbed, you pretend it never happened. You pretend that you pushed him off and got scared, sparing you. 
They let you go at 12pm, an officer drives you back to your apartment, your crappy silver car is marked as a crime scene. You call up Adam and tell him you're not going to be in the next day due to the whole ‘stabbing incident’ he wishes you well.
You take two sleeping pills and drink the rest of the whiskey from the other night, you throw up at the thought of the body in front of you. The pills come up half dissolved with it. You fall asleep to a rerun of Criminal Minds and dream of Spencer Reid finding you tied up in the basement somewhere, 
He kisses you gently and combs back his horribly long parted greasy hair with his hand. He starts to recite a chapter of wuthering heights “'Kiss me again; and don’t let me see your eyes! I forgive what you have done to me. I love my murderer—but yours! How can I?”,  it turns to pure gibberish in your mind and you sigh at him as he takes your soft cheeks in his hands tenderly  lips tracing your neck in soft kisses and then he rips out your throat with his teeth, you bleed out all over the basement floor as he kisses your neck and revels with enjoyment in your blood. White pressed shirt soaked in maroon.
Your eyes open and you're stuck to your sofa, your tv flickers over and over, and the masked man appears within the metal box, the tv screen flickers in fuzzy blacks and whites. He's covered in blood and it's blackened with age.cavernous eyes and unhinged jaw. He taps against the screen and waves the knife in his hand. You pant against your leather sofa bare arms suck to the couch with sweat, itchy hot. His hand reaches outwards to pull himself out and then he's on top of you, his knife slicing through the flesh on your bare legs and chest as you're forced to endure it in your frozen state. You close your eyes as his arms lift to plunge the knife in deep, when they open the street lights flicker off through the window. mesh curtains drifting in the wind. 
You awake again a blanket thrown over your body haphazardly, your phone tells you it's 6 in the morning. You smoke a cigarette on your fire exit and watch the sunrise, you remember to not take sleeping pills with alcohol.
You look in the mirror and pick at the scab on your cheek, it drools with blood and you push it into your lips again, imagining it's his hand, you don't scold yourself this time, you tell yourself you'll never see him again. Then you lift your shirt and stare at the gash he left you, blood still smeared around the edges of the huge plaster they gave you at the hospital. You brush your teeth and spit out blood and teeth. When you blink all you see is the foamy toothpaste down the sink, you think you're going mad, its stress you tell yourself it's nothing to worry about. You open your wardrobe and black slime oozes out of it.
Your mom phones you at 8 before class, you tell her you're fine (your not)that you've been going to therapy(you haven't) that you've stopped drinking(likely chance)that that article she read on her phone was correct and you did see that killer that's been going round but your safe you promise( this is true, but your not safe, not even from yourself)
You head to college again and ignore the rumours going around about how you got stabbed by the killer, people ask about the scratch on your face and you tell them it was your cat that you don't own.
You go back home and cry at a video of a rat dancing in the rain, you scratch at the cut on your face until it bleeds again with your hand in between your thighs, stomach aching as you crumble into a shit position,you think about that night until you come over and over in your bed, sheets sticking to your body with sweat. You take a shower and close your eyes under the burning hot water, you catch your knee while using a cheap men’s razor shaving and watch the blood run into the water like psycho, you watch a western movie on tv, James dean rides a horse with a cigarette hanging out his mouth as he smirks in black and white. 
You don't take a sleeping pill that night and stare into the popcorn ceiling until you witness cosmic horror beyond your own belief, you face stares back at you and then its eyes are torn from its head, you watch a body be exsanguinated and then flayed and sewn back together again and blood is pumped back into your body, you see that boys body as a car drives past, the way the blood trailed down his neck like a red scarf.
You fall asleep to sirens and screams.
It is Florida after all
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fyrewalkwithmee · 3 months
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Thin Walls Pt. 1
Special Agent Dale Cooper x reader
Sooo there's a serious lack of Dale Cooper x reader and I'm in my Twin Peaks era and plan to change that. This will be a multi-part story because I can't physically write anything under like 1k words lol.
word count: 1.8k
WARNINGS: 18+ due to sexual themes, descriptions of masturbation, sexual frustration/tension, pining, smuttyness ;)
Please let me know if you enjoyed the story and want pt.2 I'm also happy to take requests for Agent Cooper if you have any naughty ideas.
Thank you for reading <3
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Chapter 1, The Agent Next Door
Your mind flashed to what happened earlier that day as you fixed your just-curled hair into an elegant but wild bun. You had been interrogating two high school girls who were Classmates of Laura Palmer. You and your partner had discovered evidence possibly linking them to the Palmer case.
You and Dale had decided it would be best for you to question them first as they may be more likely to talk if it were a younger female agent grilling them. You had a way with young girls that almost always made them spill their secrets. Perhaps you saw a bit of yourself in them. Maybe it was your gentle nature and 'kind eyes' as Dale liked to call them. He was always saying things like that, complimenting you, uplifting you as an agent. It never went any further than that, Dale was a professional after all, and what could he possibly see in a rookie agent like you? You never told him but somehow you could sense he knew that you always felt a bit insecure being his partner. You were always afraid of letting him down or being the reason a case went south. You knew it was doomed and a pathetic cliche, but you had grown quite fond of him and were desperate for his approval. And that's not all you were desperate for…
You always thought he was handsome and charming and had just accepted it for what it was. But after seeing him work, the way his mind would reel trying to solve a case, the way he was so kind and careful with a victim's family and those in pain. You couldn't help but feel yourself grow more and more attracted to him.
Sometimes when working late at night his large hand would accidentally brush up against yours when going to grab another file amongst the mess of papers on the desk. Electricity would shoot up your hand and travel down your body to places where it probably shouldn't. He would mumble a "sorry" as you brushed it off, trying to look lost in whatever you were reading and not thinking about those hands. So much bigger than your own, so experienced. You imagined what they could be capable of in the right situation, the way they would rub that spot in between your thighs, stretch you out and become wet with your arousal. How he would make a mess of you as you reached closer and closer to that delicious breaking point.
At this point, you would shift in your seat, trying to alleviate the intense need for him beginning to pool in your panties. Sometimes, you thought you could feel his eyes fall on you and linger a little longer than usual when you did. You were almost certain he could read your thoughts, often sharing a new theory with you that you were just about to bring up yourself. You secretly wished he could, that would be a lot easier than actually telling him how you felt. Telling him wasn't an option, you couldn't risk compromising your partnership if he didn't feel the same way. So you kept it all inside, frustration building with each new case and each hour spent with your special agent.
You often found yourself having to relieve that tension in the wee hours of the morning when you couldn't sleep. Your own fingers taking his place, slipping in and out of yourself, imagining you and Dale in an array of naughty and scandalous scenarios until your desperation reached it's climax.
Dale's POV. It had been 2.25 hours since the special agent had recorded his final comments to send to his trusty assistant. He had had a smug, prideful grin on his face, "Diane remind me to tell agent y/l/n how impressed I was with her work today and how she has continuously proven herself to be a highly skilled and valued member of the bureau and well, just a lovely partner. I will report back to you tomorrow with details of the interrogation of Laura's two classmates. This is Special Agent Dale Cooper saying, goodnight." he placed down the recorder and turned off the light, more than ready to rest after a long day of investigatory work.
It was approximately 2 and a half hours later that he was woken by a thump coming from the wall right where his bed ended and his head lay on the plush hotel pillow. He kept very still, eyes wide, trying to see through the darkness of the room. Another smaller thump followed by a bigger sound made him lean over and grab his recorder, "Diane, I ask you again to please express post those earplugs to my room at the Great Northern. It appears that whatever animals that have been having relations in the walls for the past week have returned tonight for another session. Note that February must be mating season in Twin Peaks. Another note, the Great Northern has excellent coffee but very thin walls." He placed the recorder down and sighed deeply, closing his eyes when he heard another thump followed by another sound entirely. It sounded like a high pitched squeal coming from one of the animals, "at least the animals are getting some action" he said to himself with a sigh.
It was an unfortunate part of the job. Maintaining any romantic relationship was hard due to the travelling nature of his work and becoming involved with anyone he met along the way was against his guidelines as it could compromise the case. To put it shortly, he hadn't infact been intimate with a women in a long long time. He pushed himself closer to the wall and placed his ear against its coolness, maybe if he could figure out what animal it was the staff could find a way to expel the creatures.
Upon getting closer the muffled sounds became a lot clearer. He could now tell that it wasn't an animal at all. It was a human voice, a woman's voice, it was familiar to him. It was his partner's voice… He quickly shrugged back down into the covers, a million thoughts passing through his mind and one particular feeling shooting straight down into his crotch. "Agent y/l/n, no it couldn't be." He thought eyes wide with shock and confusion.
He had thought she'd taken this work seriously. she knows the risk of getting involved with people while on a case, especially in a town as small and tight-knit as Twin Peaks. Who could it be? He wondered an unexpected feeling of possessiveness rising up from his chest. He heard another more pronounced moan come from behind his head, more desperate in nature. He felt cock twitch in his pants and shifted around a bit, trying to keep his mind and body distracted by who the mystery man was. Harry is seeing Ms Packard so it wasn't him. It could be Hawk but he hadn't picked up on any tension between the two. It definitely wasn't Andy, he wasn't her type. She had spent 90% of her time in the town with him, so who was it and why was this getting on his nerves so much?
Yes his partner was exceedingly beautiful and intelligent and he would often have death stare the slimey men that would ogle at her when she would get dressed up to go undercover. The way he would sit in anticipation every morning waiting for her to join him for breakfast and how his heart would race every time their bodies would press up against each other trying to avoid gunfire didn't go noticed to him. He had pegged all that down to adrenaline and not having been this close to a woman for a long time. Except this feeling he had now… Knowing that there could be another man in her life, touching her, kissing her, making her scream. it was all too much. All at once the feelings he had pushed down for so long rose up to the surface and he had half the mind to go into that room, grab whoever was in there by the collar and beat them bloody for touching his girl… Well, his partner, he mentally corrected himself.
He hadn't realised it but while lost in his thoughts his hand had travelled down to the bulge that had formed in his pants and he was palming himself, rubbing his aching cock to the sounds of his partner in the next room. The agent felt ashamed but her whimpers were too much for him and he knew he wouldn't sleep at all that night unless he felt his release. He pulled himself out of his shorts, he was uncomfortably hard and his length slapped right up against his abdomen. He let out a relieved sigh as he circled the beads of precum that had leaked from his tip using them to help slick his member as he started slowly stroking. His hips bucked at the sensation, face painted with ecstasy. He felt the urge to make sounds to further release his pleasure but knew he had to stay quiet. If he could hear her, she would definitely be able to hear him.
He wondered what she would think. Would she be disgusted or would it turn her on further knowing her sensible and trustworthy partner was touching himself madly at the sounds and thought of her current predicament? this idea pulled him closer to the edge as he added more pressure to his movements, sliding his hand at an impossibly fast pace up and down his cock, hips bucking and sweat building around his temples. He tried his best not to think about the third person in this situation, not wanting anything to distract him from his impending orgasm.
It was as if his partner had read his mind because it seemed that she too was close to climaxing, her cries becoming more and more laboured. He was so so close to release, about to tip over the edge when he heard a sound that he never thought he would hear in his wildest dreams or fantasies. The familiar voice called out in pleasure a singular name into the nightly abyss, "Oh Dale, ohh fuckk". The proclamation was followed by a lengthy moan and then the silence of the night returned.
The detective halted all movement his seed pumping out of him, spilling onto his stomach. He lay there with his eyes and mouth open shocked at what he just heard and disappointed at his ruined climax. "I must be going insane", he thought to himself, "there's no way she just said my name as she-" he just couldn't believe it. As one agent on one side of the wall fell into a deep frustration free sleep, the other lay in his bed wide awake. Unable to shake the millions of thoughts now cluttering his already busy mind. He wouldn't get any sleep that night but he knew one thing for sure…
He needed her desperately and after tonight there was no going back.
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