#cooper day

-------------‧₊˚🍋‍🟩✩ ₊˚🌿⊹♡--------------

It was obvious to anyone that could see that it hadn't really started with the sound of Weezer blasting through the art room. Rivers Cuomo's voice blasted past cups of unwashed brushes and tables with artistic remnants left on them. You'd set up a CD player on the teacher's now empty desk and put in your Pinkerton CD in, letting the sound bounce off the white brick walls of your high school's visual art classroom. If you're going to be alone in this classroom for the next few hours, then you'll need some music to keep you company.

For that very specific day, it actually started with Cooper Day, doing what Cooper Day does when he isn't writing a new short story or listening to music. He got into trouble. He fought a random jock.

It was some blonde guy with frosted tips - yuck. He had made some joke about his sister, one comment that took the previously running jokes too far. Cooper had reacted without thinking, a common occurrence. Maybe it was the new Linkin Park CD he had bought rutting through his veins, but he wasn't going to let that joke go unpunished. Did he end up with a massive black eye? Yes. Did he also give the guy a decent amount of bruises in return? Also yes. He recently got a punching bag for his 17th birthday, a regrettable decision on his parents' part.

He was struck with two hours of detention that night. Staying in school until 5pm, scribbling down math equations rather than enjoying the night writing, as usual. But his ruthless suffering came to an immediate end when the clock hit 5:00pm. He swiftly grabbed his bag from his desk and snatched his iPod and headphones from the teacher's desk, scoffing at the loss of battery. Cooper really should charge it more often. He stuffed the iPod in his pocket and slipped the headphones around his neck to rest.

You had stayed the night at school by choice. Nothing was out of the ordinary at home, but the school art show was in three months and you had bitten off more than you could chew. You planned to do 4 good projects to put in the show, but to your dismay, your art professor had told encouraged you to do the largest piece you ever have. Having being pestered for multiple days, you naturally caved in. After which, you were presented with a canvas possibly bigger than you.

Well, fuck.

This was the second day this week you had stayed late to work further. Your father got off of work at 5:30, so he'd be here anytime to get you. For now, the artistic stage is yours to take up. Your music can blast, your creative flow can, well, flow, and your space can be yours.

And then the CD that was being played stops, right in the middle of Pink Triangle. No good track goes uninterrupted, huh? You whip your head around, only to be stunned by the sight of the CD being taken out, put back in its case, and replaced with Around The Fur by Deftones - all by a very familiar writer's hands. The opening track starts to play, and a voice shouts above it. Fuck, that's loud. The voice belongs to the body with the hands that replaced your beloved CD.

"Weezer is for kids who still get their mom to monogram their boxers and 30 year olds who are still virgins."

No need to keep looking - you know who it is. Smug ass Cooper Day. The school's prodigy writer and resident weirdo.

That's where it had actually started. With his smug face.

You - and by extension, Cooper, had both entered your junior year a few months ago. He still had the reputation as the genius, edgy student writer who just kept winning awards. He applied for about every competition he could, cashing out with prize money or new writing tools almost every time. At this particular time of year, he had just sent a thick stack of pages containing a horror story for a competition - a state competition.

And then it had happened. Cooper's aforementioned competition entry had been judged, and the winners were to be announced that day.

"and we are proud to shine a light on one of our aspiring creative juniors for their placement in a state competition!" !The announcements blared out, a grim stretching on Cooper's face. "Congrats to [Y/N] [L/N] for her first place finish in the Students of Philadelphia Oil Painting Contest! Give a round of applause for her!"

And that had started it all. Since the day you had the audacity to show Cooper up in the extremely broad spectrum that is being creative. You were the reason he got his hopes up so high! That competition money could have gotten him a shitload of CDs and shirts! He knows he shouldn't be too mad, you're not even a writer! It's not like you won over him. But apparently, showing him up was enough reason for you two to be at war.

Snap out of it, back to the present.

"Hey, dickwad, put my CD back! And turn that shit off!" You shout, pointing a paintbrush in his direction. His grimy hands are treating your beloved 1996 album with no love!

He sticks his hands up, as if being arrested. "No can do! Some people have this thing called music taste - I'm sure you can't relate.. And you're hurting those people, mainly me."

You scoff. Cooper takes a stride towards you, looking over your shoulder at your painting. It's an oil paint that you've been regrettably stalling on. The underpainting is done and the figures are beginning to truly take shape - but the background remains generally untouched.

"Eww, why are they naked?" Cooper sticks out his tongue. If he wasn't taller than you, you could assume he was a child.

"It's called art, idiot! And they're naked because it's a metaphor! A ton of classic artists do that!"

"A metaphor for what, not having clothes?!"

You groan, putting your brush down and turning to him. "For capitalism! That's why their privates are covered with receipts! It's a metaphor for how consumerism and capitalism strips us of our decency! Aren't you supposed to be a writer, why can't you figure that out?!"

"Maybe I can't figure it out cause it's a stupid metaphor!" He retorts.

"Just go home, Cooper!" You both roll your eyes at each other. He shoves his hands in his pockets.

"Whatever, better than staying here with you and your stupid capitalism metaphors and virgin music!" He tuts, turning around. "And you've got paint in your hair, by the way."

You aren't sure what it was, but something about his comment really struck a nerve. It's probably more about the continuous annoyance he's been in your life, like a mosquito that won't die. Every time you try and make a move to do anything, he's there. He's held your sketchbook hostage more times than you can count. Without a thought, you grab your cup of paint water and toss it at the brunette, aiming to mess up those naturally gorgeous curls of his.

Why did someone so goddamn cute have to be so infuriating?!

Splash!

Cooper gasps, tossing his headphones off and shaking them - making sure they don't get wet. He takes a breath of relief when he realizes they were untouched. He doesn't even care to check his curls.

"You jerk! What was that for?!" He growls, turning around to face you. You did, in fact, wet his curls, but it wasn't enough to flatten them. He does have a patch that's faintly purple now - like a child that got too messy when finger painting.

"For everything, Cooper! All you do all day is annoy me and make comments about how my art is shit! I've never done anything to you I can think of, you asshole! What did I do to you for you to act like this?!"

"What did you do?" He scoffs, tightening his fists. "You know what you did! People used to consider me the artsy one in our class, and then you swoop in out of nowhere and take that from me! I've been writing since I was 7, I've been trying so hard and it's so easy for you!"

Before that faithful day with the announcement, he hadn't even known you liked art. He had noticed you in the hallway - it was a small school, how couldn't he notice another alt-dressed student?

But you had stolen the spotlight that his work gave him. He wasn't popular, he wasn't cool, and he wasn't a real big hit with girls - so the writing prodigy thing was all he really had.

"Easy for me?! I'm just like you, Day! I've been drawing and painting and learning and sketching as long as I can remember! I've been working my ass off for years!" You shout, still trying to make your voice carry over the music. "I don't know what made you think that my art is somehow challenging your writing, but it's not! I've read your works, they're incredible!"

"You like my writing...?"

His eyes are soft, regretful. His eyes have always drawn you to him, they're sweet and deep and so full of passion for the world. If he wasn't such an ass, you would have painted them by now.

"Of course I do! You're a prodigy for a reason, damnit!" You scoff, throwing your hands up.

He likes your hands. They're not excessively manicured like the girls his sister hangs out with, but they're more honest. Your nails are bitten and the cuticles are a total mess. And there's paint on your fingertips and graphite on your palms. He adores it, maybe those hands would have graced his computer if you weren't such an ass.

"Whatever. You still stole my reputation from me."

"Just get out, Cooper!"

He kicks his shoes off at the entrance of the house, dirty converse flopping down pathetically on the wooden floor. Natalie stifles a laugh from the table.*

"Did you get into a fight with a soccer player or a bunch of finger painting toddlers?" She grins. Cooper just stares at the floor.

"I need...girl help."

Natalie's eyebrows raise.

"You need help from a girl or with a girl?" She asks.

"Both."

The boy runs his hand through his hair, pulling out a chair and sitting in it.

With a glance up from her homework, Natalie speaks. "What's the problem? Cheerleader reject you?"

"No. I, uh, I realized I was like a total ass to a chick who's like...super hot. And like...totally my type. How do I get her to not hate me?" Cooper mumbles, his head slumping against the table.

"Jesus, Cooper, what'd you do this time?"

"I was just an ass to her. And I kept shitting on her art - metaphorically, if that wasn't obvious."

Natalie immediately jerks her head up to look at him. She's been watching this weird one-sided beef he's been having with that one weird art chick.

"Oh my God, is this about [Y/N]? I hate to tell you, but she's not gonna forgive you."

Cooper groans, thudding his head against the wooden table. Great.

"Just give me ideas! What do girls like?! Flowers?!"

"Not all girls are the same, numbskull! Think of something she'll like."

That next morning, your locker immediately feels wrong the moment you touch it. There are two explanations for the door being slightly ajar - you didn't fully close the locker last night, or someone else opened it. As you open it, your question is answered. A mixtape and a bag of dove chocolates [that totally weren't stolen from his sister] sit in the middle, attached to a note that simply says:

"Your metaphor was actually really good. And I'm sorry for saying Weezer was virgin music even though it is.-CD"

And if you were to turn your head to state down the hallway, you'd see a familiar pair of deep, soft eyes staring at you - gaging your reaction.

"Please like me-" he pleads silently "for the love of God, please like me."

And yes, the CD has both Weezer and Deftones.

˚.🦴♬⋆.˚🦇⛧°.📰 ᵎᵎ🕸️๋࣭

GAHHH I started on The Days and I LOVE ITTT. I'm only 3 episodes in 😔 so this fic might be a little inaccurate. Cooper is such a sweetie I love him sm. Also this fic is very loosely based on this song 👇 (can you tell I like Weezer?)

“S-Shit…y/n..” Whispering, he stutters. His voice faltering to the feeling of your mouth latched onto his neck, fingers tangled through his fluffy brown hair.

His nape was sensitive, you knew. Especially having been mainly a virgin before you, high school sweethearts that practically did everything together. Now you were both seniors, graduation only a few weeks away, you had decided to study for your final tests. But as usual, you ended up in Cooper’s lap, sitting in his swivel chair in front of his desk. Latching onto his skin like a leech and feeling his pulse through your soft, plump lips, drinking in the scent emitting from him like an intoxicating drug that made your mind swirl, the feeling spinning down and nestling in your core, causing the muscles to clench and ache. Drool collecting in your panties.

Luckily, you weren’t alone in the sentiment. Cooper wasn’t very vocal, on par with him being a quiet, emo stoner kid, but he did let out shuddering breaths or soft whimpers occasionally that rang in your ears like the sound of an angel. It was pure bliss, and it only made you want to eat him more.

It wasn’t long before Cooper's aching hard-on, pressing through his jeans and rutting against your thigh, turned into your hand wrapped tightly around his leaking cock, jerking him off feverishly until he saw stars.

His eyes always became clouded, and his head tilted back, sinking into the chair as your hand stroked him with precision. Teasing each vein and crook of his cock as it twitched in your hand, heavy and desperate. Cooper could typically go on for a while, but today he was too worked up, and it had been a while since he last had time to release any hormonal tension.

So it didn’t take long today for you to coax thick ropes of cum to spurt from the pink plush tip, his thighs shaking as his hips jutted forward in a staccato pattern, his toes curling tightly in his socks as the warm release covered your hand and doused his already sticky tip.

His mouth was only slightly agape as his head flopped down to meet your hungry gaze, his chest visibly labored under his emo band t-shirt.

Your heart swelled at the sight of his pretty face, pathetic and fucked out from a simple, single hand job.

“Cutie.” You murmur, smiling before pecking his dick with a soft kiss which caused his whole body to silently jolt, tensing and jerking forward in the chair. Which caused you to giggle, the sound making him crack a small smile on the corner of his swollen lips. Eyes still a daze. You were nowhere close to finished with the boy, not after the look he was giving you.

Taglist (you can be added or removed at any time):

"Cooper, what's taking so long?" You inquired, feeling more and more frustrated with the boy. He was supposed to be helping you with your missing assignments, but he got sidetracked by a notification from his laptop. He was so distracted that he spent about three minutes staring at the screen, literally frozen in place. It was annoying, and the worst thing was that it was the third time he had been distracted by it, which meant that your work was taking even longer to complete.

The only reason why you even had missing assignments was because you got sick the previous week.

Strep throat. Possibly one of the worst and best illnesses a person can get. You felt like shit most of the time, but the upside was that you wouldn't have to go to school until it cleared. You just happened to catch it from a guy in your math class; how that happened was a damn mystery. You kept your distance and moved as far away from him as possible every time he so little as parted his lips to speak, but you still caught it. As a result, you took a week off from school, which didn't seem too bad at first, but that was until Cooper gave you an update on everything that went down during the week you spent at home whining about your sore throat and chugging shitty medicine. And it was one hell of an update, for sure.

He soon shifted his focus away from the screen and quickly closed it. He covered his face and moaned as he stood up from his desk and returned to his bed to sit next to you again. "Sorry, sorry. What were we talking about?"

You close your workbook, using your pencil to bookmark the page, and place it beside you. "Numbers and shit. Who was that?"

"Who was who?" You should have known he would respond to your question with one of his own. He always did this, and it was infuriating. In his defense, though, he didn't have to tell you who he was talking to if he didn't want to, therefore he was justified. Irritating as fuck, but justified.

"Don't play dumb," you advised, rolling your eyes at his feigned confusion. "Who were you emailing just now?" Cooper shrugged and glanced around the room. "Why does it matter?"

"It must matter since you keep running back to your laptop every two minutes."

"Well, it's closed now, so you don't have to worry about it. Lucky you." Cooper was not an open person, and you knew it. Everyone knew it. That being said, his dismissive behavior wasn't unusual. He always bottled up his emotions since he didn't know how to express them without assuming he sounded stupid. Unfortunately for him, you were nosy and constantly pestered him when he didn't tell you something, so he usually caved.

"Are you hiding something from me?"

He gave you a puzzled, defensive expression. "What makes you think I'm hiding something from you?"

"You're not denying it." Your logic garnered you a sneer from him, but he chose to simply change the subject to avoid further conflict.

"The more you argue with me over this, the more time you're wasting." He wasn't necessarily wrong about that, either. Instead of pressuring him to talk about it, you picked up your workbook and got back to work. Around twenty minutes later, you left to go to the bathroom, but when you finished and headed back to Cooper's room, he was sitting at his desk. Again. Instead of announcing your presence, you silently closed his bedroom door and crept up behind him, skimming through his laptop screen. He was reading an email from a girl who said she "missed him" and had been "thinking about him all day". It was a tough read, but it offered a great opportunity to make fun of him.

"Who's Emma?" You finally spoke up with a sly grin. Cooper jumped and shut his laptop in less than a second. He gave you an annoyed glare before sweeping his curls out of his face and looking away. He stood up from his chair and attempted to distance himself from you out of embarrassment.

"A friend," he mumbled.

"That didn't sound like a friend," you retorted.

"Why are you so worried about it?" Instead of answering his question, you mocked him.

You grabbed his arm and began swinging it, annoying him even more. Truth be told, you weren't particularly pleased with what you had found, but you were trying your best to conceal your displeasure via exaggerated excitement techniques. You had a mini-crush on him for a while (at least that's what you called it to persuade yourself that you didn't want him and were just being irrational for a year straight), and it was relatively upsetting to learn that he was talking to some girl he never mentioned to you. "Aw, Cooper has a girlfriend!"

He let you swing his arm, although he didn't seem thrilled about it. "She's not my girlfriend." You snorted and rolled your eyes. "Okay, sure," you replied, not believing him in the slightest. "And I'm not failing algebra."

"No, seriously," he affirmed. "She's not. We just started talking, like, a week ago."

"And how did that happen?"

It took him a while to gather enough courage to answer that question. "...she called me sexy."

"...seriously? Just- just straight up?" Cooper nodded. You cringed a bit. "Is she in any of your classes?" You asked. Little did you know, you wouldn't be prepared for his response. "...she's a junior."

"She's a what?!"

"Hear me out—"

"No!" That was odd. Wasn't it odd? How often did a freshman and a junior get together? Not very. You couldn't even begin to articulate your concern. Where do you even start? There was a lot to unpack in those three words. "Do you not see the issue with that?"

He shrugged awkwardly. "Yeah, but she's hot, and I'm me. M'not really a chick magnet, so I kinda have to take what I can get."

"Take what you can get?" You repeated in astonishment. You had more to say, but he interrupted you before you had time to finish. "Plus, we already made out a lot, so I kinda dug myself into a hole." As if it couldn't get any worse...

Your eyes widened. The situation was almost unfathomable, and you could feel yourself about to explode out of anger. "Have you lost your mind?"

"I'm sixteen; what's the issue?" He asked in defense. You would've laughed at that lie if you weren't pissed off.

"You're fifteen, Cooper. Stop telling people that." For some unexplained reason, he kept lying about being a year older than he was. He'd been doing it since he was twelve, and it was actually pretty cute. And stupid.

"Well, I'm almost sixteen."

"Your birthday was two months ago."

"Still. That's basically a young adult."

"Not even!" He shook his head and sighed. "Why are we even talking about this?"

"I don't know," you replied. "Why are you dating a junior?" Cooper flung his head back, annoyed, before sitting on the edge of his bed. "We aren't dating, okay? And even if she was a freshman, I still wouldn't date her." That claim perplexed you. You stood in front of him, looking down at him with curiosity. "Why not?" You questioned.

He placed his elbow on his knee and let his chin rest in the palm of his hands. "Because she's not into me."

"But you just said she called you—"

"I know," he interjected. "You don't get it, though. She thinks I'm an idiot." He looked up at you for a minute, only to be met with your blank stare. "She's just using me to write shit for her."

"So, you don't like her; you just like being used?" You asked. He sneered at your cluelessness.

"I don't like being used. I just like the attention."

You sat down beside him, hands in your lap. You mumbled a soft "damn" and peered at the floor alongside him. "That fuckin' sucks."

"You don't say?" He replied sarcastically, leading you to nudge his shoulder. He sighed hopelessly and continued his rant. "I don't think I'm ever getting in a relationship at this point."

"Don't say that," you pleaded. "You never know."

"I do know, though," he argued. "I'm weird. I don't fit anyone's standards. Not that I even care for relationships, but—"

"You fit mine."

Your honesty seemed to catch him off guard for a moment. He paused for a few seconds before proceeding with the conversation. "That's not what I meant, y/n. You're just a friend."

"That's not what I meant, either." He gazed at you, his eyes conveying his uncertainty. "I didn't mean it in a friendly way."

Cooper stared at you, completely stumped. You grumbled and rolled your eyes before clarifying yourself for him. For someone so smart, he could be so naive. "You idiot—I like you. That's what I meant."

Despite your clear confession, you were anything but calm. You wanted to bash your head through his window because you had just made the entire conversation awkward. Awkward because he was staring at you, visibly uncomfortable. Or maybe he was just stunned. You had hoped he was just stunned. Regardless, the room was quiet, which was enough to drive you insane on the inside.

"...dude, why?" He eventually asked.

"Why what?"

"Why me?"

"Why not?" You shrugged with sass but kept your attention away from him. You would prefer to not see your best friend become uncomfortable in your presence. Being in his presence at that moment was enough to make you want to shoot yourself in the head. "You really do have shitty taste in guys," he taunted, hoping to lighten the mood for you. You let out a bitter scoff. "But on a serious note, I didn't think you thought of me like that..."

"You learn something new every day." He cracked a brief chuckle before going back to his serious demeanor. You, however, were not laughing. "I'd rather you over Emma, y'know."

"Is that really the compliment you think it is?" You asked softly.

"Depends on how you take it," he replied. "But I did like her at first, just so you know. Before I even knew what she was up to. So do you know what that means?" It meant that even if he liked Emma, he still would have preferred you. Suddenly, you didn't want a bullet in your skull anymore. "Oh," you muttered while trying your best to not smile too hard. "Cool, cool. That's, like, rad."

"That's it?" He complained. "Just 'rad'?"

"Obviously not," you denied. "I just don't know how to react appropriately."

"How would you react if you were alone?" He asked, to which you immediately responded.

"I'd scream."

He raised his eyebrows and grinned. "I guess that's fair. But do you know what I want to do?" You tilted your head to the side, urging him to continue. But he said nothing. Without wasting another second, he leaned into your proximity and connected your lips, as if he was testing the waters before diving in fully. The kiss was neither short nor too long. You eventually reciprocated, allowing your hands to drift to his face and grasp onto him. You didn't want him to pull away, but he did eventually. He took a breath and smiled nervously while backing away from you. Meanwhile, you were still trying to process his actions.

"…why'd you pull away?" You spoke up, giving him a fake look of disapproval. "I wasn't supposed to?"

"Did I say you could?" Cooper shook his head. "Exactly. So get back over here and kiss me before I throw a fit."

"As you wish."

written by @nylaboon