immortal bitch

The system intrinsically abuses poor people.

Titus Danforth x F! Wife Reader

Summary: Not knowing where you stand with Titus after the kiss, and encouraged by Ursula’s idea, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

Words: 3869

Warning: Age Gap (No specified), Arranged Marriage/Marriage of Convenience, Dark Romance, Swearing, Alcohol Consumption, Intoxication, Suggestive Themes

Authors Note: I had fun writing this one. Not me kicking and giggling at my own fic lmfao. Enjoy - Ryn

TILL DEATH | MASTERLIST

Mini Series

Titus Danforth x F! Wife Reader

Summary: You grew up with the Danforths; your father was Chester Danforth’s right hand man. When he passes, his twins Titus and Ursula inherit the hotel and casino resort empire, but the chair of the High Council goes to Titus. There’s one rule for Titus to claim it: he must be married. And his bride… is you.

Warning: Age Gap (No specified), Arranged Marriage/Marriage of Convenience, Swearing,

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

PART 5

Richie Jerimovich x fem reader

This is a short mini series!!! Will be major time jumps and won't follow the show that closely.

warnings: age gap (reader is carmys age), strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, angst, jealous richie, eventual smut, 18+, MDNI.

chapters:

one

two

three

four

five

six

seven

16 Part Series Completed

On-going Then & Now series

Andrew “Pope” Cody x F! Brother’s Best Friend Reader

Summary: You’re best friends with Deran Cody, a surfer with big dreams. When he brings you to a party, you meet his brothers but don’t know about their criminal lifestyle. Andrew “Pope” Cody soon realizes you don’t belong in their dangerous world 

THEN TIMELINE [Nine-year age gap (late teens / late 20s) — Andrew Cody x reader are NOT together in the “Then” timeline, substance and alcohol use, blood/injury/violence]

Part 1 THE CODY PARTY, 2008

Part 2 BEACH DAY, 2008

Part 3 ACCEPTANCE LETTER, 2008

Part 4 BLOODY, 2008

Part 5 PERPETRATORS, 2008

NOW TIMELINE [Age Gap (mid 20s / early 40s), swearing contains references to alcohol use, intoxication, harrassment]

Part 6 9 YEARS LATER | OCEANSIDE, 2017

Part 7 BONFIRE, 2017

Part 8 MENDING, 2017

Part 9 THE DROP, 2017

Part 10 STARGAZING, 2017

PART 11 NOTHING BETWEEN US, 2017

PART 12 NEED YOU, 2017

PART 13 STORM, 2017

PART 14 LEVERAGE, 2017

PART 15 TOGETHER, 2017

PART 16 THE END, 2017

Andrew “Pope” Cody × F! Friend/Paramedic Reader

Summary: After Craig tells you he's worried about Andrew, and J coming to you about who he's letting stay at the compound, you walk in on Anrdew in a compromising position.

Words: 4152

Warnings: Spoilers for season 4

Authors Note: I'm still so gagged that I went to Oceanside and went to Baz's house. It was so werid being there lol. Enjoy - Ryn

CAS | MASTERLIST

There’s a knock at the back door sharp, impatient.

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” you call out through a yawn, already dragging yourself toward it.

You pull it open and find Craig standing there.

“I need to talk to you,” he says, and before you can even respond, he’s already stepping past you like he belongs inside.

You let out a slow, tired breath, closing the door behind him. “Craig, I’m not in the mood for whatever this is…” 

“I’m not here to tease you,” he says quickly.

Without missing a beat, he makes himself right at home like he always does. He breezes past you, already opening your fridge, scanning it. He starts rummaging through it, pulling things aside with casual confidence, like this conversation is just background noise.

“Or get patched up,” he adds, half-distracted as he rifles through your fridge like he lives there, shifting things around with no real intention of taking anything. “And it’s not about some stupid fight or drama I’ve gotten myself tangled in.”

He shuts it when he comes up empty, like he’s personally offended by your lack of snacks.

You lean your weight against the doorframe, rubbing a hand over your face. Your hair’s still messy, your eyes heavy with exhaustion.

“I’m tired,” you say flatly. “I worked a night shift last night, and all I want is to go back to sleep.”

Craig’s expression shifts to less amused now, more serious. “It’s about Pope.”

The shift is immediate. The air changes.

Craig exhales, “We were on a job–”

“You shouldn’t be telling me this” you didn’t say anything. The less you knew about their jobs the better. 

“I wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t important… things went sideways.”

The words made your heart clench. A rush of panic flooded your veins.

“Sideways?” you repeated, your voice tightening. “What do you mean? Is he okay?”

“Physically, he’s fine. But mentally…” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “We were on dirt bikes, getting chased by cops.”

Your stomach dropped.

“We cut through an orange grove, trying to lose them.” His jaw tightened, eyes falling to the floor for a moment, like he was seeing it all over again. “Then he just... stopped.”

“Stopped?”

He nodded once. “Turned his bike around and headed straight back toward them.”

A chill ran down your spine.

“He pulled his gun,” Craig said quietly. “Just rode right at them with it drawn.”

You blink, the words not fully landing at first. “He…what?”

Craig lets out a slow breath through his nose, shaking his head slightly. “I had to drag him out of it. We almost didn’t make it back.” His voice drops. “Patch… he was trying to get himself killed. One second we were riding, trying to get away, the next he looked like he didn't care what happened to him.”

A pit forms in your stomach,“Craig…”

He runs a hand over his mouth, like he’s trying to steady himself. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I’m just worried about him, you know? I just came from talking to Deran about it. I told him he should let Pope work at the Drop…give him something to do, keep him busy, keep him moving but he shut it down. He just thinks the Pope needs to stay away from Smuf” he rolls his eyes, annoyed with Deran.

“When did this job happen?”

“Three days ago” 

“I don’t know what to do,” he says quietly. “I know he gets like this sometimes, but I haven’t seen him this low in a while.”

And you understand what he means without him having to explain it further.

When Andrew got like this, it wasn’t something you could talk him out of. It didn’t sit on the surface where you could reach it. It pulled him under…fast, deep until it felt like nothing could get through.

Craig looked at you for a moment before asking quietly, “Could you talk to him? He opens up to you more than anyone.”

The request made your chest tighten.

“Okay... yeah.” You nodded. “Of course. I'll talk to him when I get the chance.”

“Thank you,” he says, pulling you into a brief hug. 

“I’ll catch you later,” he says as he pulls away.

“Yeah,” you reply softly. 

He gives you one last look before turning to leave.

Once he was gone, you headed back to your room. You picked up your phone from your nightstand and called Andrew. It rang a few times before going to voicemail.

“Hey,” you said after the beep. “Call me when you get a chance.”

You hung up and set the phone back down, trying not to read too much into the silence.

With a sigh, you climbed into bed, hoping to get a little sleep before your night shift. You had an  uneasy feeling that something wasn’t right. Eventually, exhaustion won out, and you let your eyes close, hoping you'd wake up to a missed call or a text from him.

—

You still thought about Andrew throughout your shift, replaying everything Craig had relayed to you. The words wouldn’t leave your mind.

You knew he’d been cage fighting just to blow off steam, his outlet in the chaos that was his life but things were clearly getting worse. Bad enough that he might even end up standing off with cops on a job. That kind of escalation didn’t happen out of nowhere.

It had been building for a while now, simmering under the surface until it finally reached its boiling point and now, it felt like it was only a matter of time before everything came crashing down. You needed to see him before it got worse.

It was later in the night, well into your shift, when J called.

“Hey, I’ve gotta take this. I’ll meet you inside,” you told your partner, Tony, glancing down at your phone.

Tony nodded and headed into the diner while you lingered in the parking lot beside the ambulance. The two of you had some downtime and had stopped for food.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Patch.”

Your stomach tightens slightly at the sound of J’s voice.

“Are you okay?” you ask, furrowing your brows. There’s something in his tone, something heavy. “Whats wrong?”

“Could we talk?” His voice is low, cautious.

“Yeah, of course. What’s—”

“In person?”

“I’m working, but I have some down time now. My partner and I are grabbing a bite to eat before we head back out on the road,” you cut in quickly. “We’re at Bob’s BBQ on Main Street. There’s a booth in the back by the window. Come by if you want—I’ll save you a seat.”

“Alright. I’ll be there in a bit.”

“Okay,” you say, keeping your voice gentle. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah.”

The line goes dead, and you stare at your phone for a moment longer than necessary, unease settling in your chest. 

—

J showed up about 20 minutes later. 

Sensing the conversation was probably better had in private, your partner Tony gave you some space, taking his food and settling at a table across the room.

J stood there for a moment before finally sitting down across from you. He looked uneasy, like he wasn't entirely sure how to start.

You pushed your basket of fires towards him. He grabbed a fry, more out of habit than hunger.

“Do you know Angela Kane?” he asked carefully. “She was my mom’s best friend.”

You hadn’t heard her name in years. “Yeah, I remember her.” You’d been around her plenty of times when you were younger. She wasn’t exactly a friend, but she wasn’t a stranger either.

“Why?” you ask. 

“She got out of prison. She's staying at the house.” He doesn’t say more, but the sharp edge in his voice tells you everything you can tell he doesn’t want her around, especially at the compound.

“Smurf’s letting her stay?” you ask, eyebrows lifting in disbelief. You remember exactly how much Smurf never liked her though, to be fair, Smurf doesn’t like most people.

“No, Pope is,” he said.

That made you pause.

“Really?” you asked, eyebrows lifting slightly, disbelief threading through your voice.

That didn’t sound like Pope at all. First wanting to stand off with cops, and now letting an old friend of Julia’s stay at the house?

He hated having people over…tolerated it at best. If you were a stranger, you were expected to leave the moment your welcome even hinted at wearing thin. And even if he did know you, it depended entirely on trust and history, and whether or not he liked you. 

He knew Angela through Julia, and Andrew was probably only letting her stay because of that connection—but still, it felt off.

“I don’t like her. I never did growing up,” J said.

“Well, that makes two of us,” you admitted.

Growing up, she’d always rubbed you the wrong way…little comments, teasing here and there, nothing outright cruel but enough to linger. She was one of the people who never quite understood how the Codys, especially Andrew, could be friends with you.

You knew you were different from them. The Codys knew it too. Your upbringing wasn’t the same as theirs but you were still close enough to be adjacent, always orbiting their world without fully belonging to it. And yet there were ways you connected. Especially when it came to your father being the under-the-table doctor in Oceanside.

“I don’t trust her. Pope’s making a mistake letting her stay at the house. I don’t understand why he’s helping her when he didn't even help my mom and I” 

You knew Andrew thought about Julia all the time, even if the family had long since cast her out. There had been rare moments, years back, when the Codys crossed paths with her but they always kept their distance. Andrew would admit, every now and then, that he wanted to see her. You always encouraged it, even offered to go with him whenever you visited. But he never did. 

Back then, he was still tightly wound around Smurf’s leash. That was part of it, but not all of it. You knew the rest was guilt. He couldn’t bring himself to face his twin. The only person besides you who truly understood him and he’d betrayed her, left her behind.

They came into this world together, only to end up facing it alone.

You feel for J. And you know Andrew should’ve done more. Deep down, you’re pretty sure he knows it too.

“I’ll talk to him.”

“It’s not going to change anything. You know him. Once he’s set on something, there’s no getting him to change his mind.”

“That’s not always necessarily true,” you said. “I’ll talk to him. I’ve been planning to see him ever since Craig came to me this morning. He told me what happened on the last job.”

“He claimed that he was ‘wiped out’.. That’s probably what he’s going to tell you” J says. 

“I know,” you replied, steady. “And I know that’s not the truth. Craig’s worried. I know it’s bad when Deran and Craig… even Baz, when he was around, had to come to me just to talk sense into him.”

“I just haven’t been able to get a hold of him,” you admitted. “He’s not answering my calls.”

A shadow crosses J’s face. “He’s been spending time with Angela.”

You nod slowly, unsure what to make of it. Your silence stretches a beat too long.

J watches you carefully, “I figured you should know,” he adds, quieter now. “That’s all.”

You swallow, forcing your expression to stay even. “Yeah. Thanks.”

— 

You try Andrew again the next day, but there’s still no reply, no call back, nothing. Growing more worried, you decide to head to the compound to see him for yourself.

It was late. You weren’t even sure if he was home. You pulled into the driveway, cut the engine, and stepped out. You moved through the breezeway toward the backyard. The sliding glass door to the kitchen was open, and inside you found Smurf.

She was in a robe, casually making herself a cocktail. 

“Where’s Andrew?” you ask, your voice tighter than you meant it to be.

“He’s in Craig’s old room,” Smurf replies, tone light—almost too light.

You miss the faint smirk at the corner of her mouth, but she knows exactly what’s waiting on the other side of that door… and exactly what it’s going to do when you open it.

Your heart pounds as you make your way down the hall to Craig’s old room. You push the door open.

“Andrew—oh my god!”

There they are. Andrew and Angela. Caught in the mess of sheets, limbs tangled, skin flushed, reality unmistakable. 

Andrew wasn’t spiraling. Not alone and unraveling the way you’d worried. He was fine. More than fine.

All the worry that's been eating at you for the past couple of days dissolved the second you saw him in the bed. A different feeling slipped into place. An ache. A stupid, painful ache that settled in you. Because he was with her.

What happened in just a couple of days? What shifted so fast, so easily, that it ended with her in bed with him like she belonged there?

Your gaze flicked between them, your pulse still racing from the worry that had sent you tearing across town a worry that now felt ridiculous. Embarrassing.

Has this all been some kind of joke? Did Craig and J lie to you when you’d talk to them? Had they planted the idea that Andrew was struggling just to get you here? Just so you’d walk in and see this? See them together. Were they going to hold this over your head, tease you about it? 

“Patch?” Andrew jerks upright. He’s sitting up now, fumbling with the sheet to cover himself, eyes wide in shock.

You barely manage to murmur, “I’m… I’m sorry—” before you pull the door shut a little too hard. You press your back against the wood for balance.

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself steady. He’s fine. That’s what matters, but the sight of them, of him playing on a loop behind your eyelids.

Tears sting at the corners of your eyes. You drag in a shaky breath and force them back. You will not fall apart in his hallway. Not outside the bedroom door. Not where anyone could open it and see exactly what this did to you.

Not here. Not now.

You rush down the hall. 

“Going so soon?” Smurf calls after you as you pass through the kitchen.

You can hear the smirk in her voice, even without looking back.

You don’t respond. You just keep moving, weaving through the house, desperate to get out.

Behind you, Andrew’s footsteps hit the floor hard—fast, uneven, closing the distance. He’s half-dressed, only in boxers, hair tousled like he’s just thrown himself out of bed, chasing after you.

“Patch—” he calls out, voice strained, but you don’t stop. Your legs move on their own, carrying you toward the front door as your mind swirls with disbelief and hurt. Every step feels heavier, like the walls are closing in with your racing thoughts.

“Whoa—hey! Stop, stop!” His hand clamps around your wrist, yanking you around. You spin to face him, your chest heaving, heart pounding. His eyes are wide, desperate.

His hands move to your shoulders, grounding you, before sliding down your arms in an attempt to steady you. “What—are you okay? What are you doing here?” His voice trembles with worry, his gaze searching yours as if trying to read the storm inside you.

“I—I’m sorry—I didn’t mean—” you say quickly, stumbling over your words. He notices the tears gathering in your eyes.

“Hey, slow down. Take a breath.” His tone softens, careful and coaxing. “Look at me.”

His hands rise to cup your face, trying to guide your attention back to him, but you pull away before he can fully reach you, putting space between you.

His hands fall back to his sides.

Andrew frowns, watching you step out of reach, the rejection landing harder than he expects.

You wrapped your arms around yourself instead, holding on tight as if you were the only thing keeping yourself together. His brow furrowed, concern deepening as he watched you retreat further into yourself.

“I thought—” Your voice caught. You swallowed hard and tried again. “Craig said you weren't doing good.”

Andrew's expression immediately changed.

“Craig?”

You left out the details of what Craig had told you, knowing Andrew was smart enough to fill in the blanks on his own. And you definitely weren't about to mention J meeting up to talk, upset about Andrew letting Angela stay at the compound.

Your gaze dropped to the floor.

“That’s why I’m here. I've just... been worried,” you admitted quietly. “I've tried calling you—”

“I’ve been busy. Been helping around at The Drop.” He huffed a dry laugh. “The place is a goddamn dump…definitely not up to health code. I don’t know how Deran gets people through the door, or how they keep coming back.”

Despite everything you were feeling, a small smile threatened to pull at your lips. It sounded like Deran had finally listened to Craig about giving Andrew something to do.

You knew how meticulous Andrew could be. How he couldn’t stand things being out of place. You could already picture him stalking around the bar with a rag in one hand and a scowl on his face, scrubbing things that didn’t need scrubbing, reorganizing shelves that weren’t his to reorganize, and driving Deran absolutely insane in the process.

Under different circumstances, the image might have made you laugh. Instead, the amusement faded almost as quickly as it came.

“I’ve been meaning to call you back, it’s just…” He rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a tired sigh. 

He’d been meaning to call you back, but he never really got around to it.

Angela had only been crashing at the house for a couple days, but she was there when he got home, there in the quiet moments, and somehow he just fell into that rhythm without thinking about it. She’d quickly become someone he leaned on without really planning to. Especially tonight. 

And the call… kept slipping further out of reach.

“Things have just been complicated lately.”

“Right…” It comes out more irritated than you intend, edged with something you’re trying not to name. Jealousy you don’t want to admit, even to yourself. You know you shouldn’t feel like this, you tell yourself there’s no reason to, but that doesn’t make the feeling go away.

Andrew’s expression shifts immediately. He catches the tone. 

“Patch…” he starts carefully, choosing his words. He thinks it’s about him not calling…the silence, the distance he left between you. He has no idea it’s anything deeper, or that seeing him with Angela is what really got to you.

“Angela, Andrew—what is she even doing here?” The words come out sharper than you meant them to.

His brow furrows, confusion flickering across his face. “She needs a place to crash.”

You stare at him for a moment. “And you just let her crash here after not seeing her for years?”

Andrew shrugs, like the answer should be obvious. “She’s got nowhere else to go.”

You stare at him for a second. “Are you sure that's all she needs?”

His eyes narrow immediately. “What's that supposed to mean? Did Smurf put you up to this?” he cuts in sharply. “Convince me to get rid of her?” 

“What?” You let out a disbelieving laugh. “No.”

“Because this sounds a lot like Smurf.” he states

“Well, it isn't…”

A tense silence settles between you.

“Andrew, you don’t even know her—”

His jaw clenches. “She’s not some stranger.”

“She might as well be,” you argue. “You haven’t seen her in years.”

His gaze stays fixed on you. “You’re acting like she showed up here with some kind of agenda.”

“And what if she did?”

“Jesus Christ,”

“I’m serious!” You take a step closer. “You trust her that much?”

“Yes.”

“Just like that?” You look at him like he’s lost his mind.

“She needed help,” he says, exasperated, running a hand through his hair. His voice goes flat with disbelief, like he can’t make sense of your reaction. “I thought you’d understand where she’s coming from.”

You shake your head slightly, cutting in. “She just shows up out of the blue and says she needs help, and that’s enough for you?”

His expression hardens immediately, the patience draining out of him. “Yeah. It is.”

“What is this?” he asks, frustration in his voice. “Where is this coming from?”

Angela appears behind him, quietly stepping into view in his shirt and a pair of shorts.

Andrew glances back at her. He sighs before gesturing slightly between you, trying to smooth the moment over. “Angela, you remember Patch right?”

Your voice steadies, even if it takes effort. “Hi, Angela.”

Angela gives a small nod, a polite half-smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Hey… it’s been a while. Still hanging around the Codys, I see. You haven’t changed much.”

“Yep” was all you managed to say to her. 

“Sorry about earlier— I didn't mean to barge in on you guys like that” you add quickly to both Andrew and Angela. It’s performative, but at this moment it still feels like the right thing to say.

“Was worried, is all… but you’re clearly fine.” You clap your hands together once, forcing a brightness that doesn’t match your expression as you address Andrew. “So I’m just going to go now.”

Your voice wavers on the last word. You can feel it building. You already know if you stay a second longer, you’ll lose it.

“Hey—” Andrew’s voice cuts in, firm now. “We’re not done talking.”

Behind him, Angela shifts awkwardly, suddenly very aware she’s standing in the middle of something she doesn’t fully understand. But Andrew doesn’t look away from you.

You swallow hard, hold his gaze for a beat too long, then break it and with that, you turn and walk out the front door. Outside, the air feels colder than you expect. You step off the porch and out into the driveway toward your car. The tears escape, falling from your eyes. 

Smurf comes out of the garage and steps into the driveway just as you’re reaching for your keys.

You move on instinct, slipping them from your pocket, already trying to make your escape before she can say anything.

A part of you wishes she would’ve warned you. But then again Smurf isn’t the kind of woman who deals in warnings.

She crosses the space between you in a few unhurried steps and stops right in front of your car door. Leaning into it, she plants herself there.

Her gaze drifts toward the house, lingering a beat too long, like she can see straight through the walls and into whatever mess just unfolded inside. 

“Angela’s a snake,” she says quieter this time, but no less certain. “Slithering where she doesn’t belong.” 

“She’s got more at stake in him than you think,” Smurf adds. “That’s why she’s not going anywhere on her own. You better make yours count.”

You look at her, confused, like she’s missing a piece of the story you don’t have.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” she says immediately, tilting her head. Her eyes narrow, unimpressed. “You’ve been pining over Andrew for years. Don’t act like I didn’t notice.”

She rolls her eyes like the thought itself is obvious. Before you can even respond, she cuts you off.

“I tolerate you… more than I tolerate her,” Smurf says flatly. “And that should tell you everything you need to know.”

Her gaze flicks back toward the house again, “Angela doesn’t belong in that house. Doesn’t belong with him. She’s temporary…a distraction, nothing more.”

Her lip curls slightly. “And I don’t keep things around that don’t belong.”

Then her attention snaps back to you. “But you?” she continues, voice sharpening. “Don’t stand there acting like you don’t know what you want.”

Her mouth tightens, eyes unblinking now. “I thought you were stronger than this. Girls who give up before the fight even starts—they’re pathetic. Weak. They don’t get what they want.”

A beat.

“And right now,” she says, softer but cutting, “that’s exactly what you’re acting like.”

“You want my advice?” she asks, though it doesn’t really sound like a question. “if you actually want him, you don’t sit back and hope it passes, you step in and make sure it does.”

Without waiting for a response, she turns and heads back inside the house.

You hurry into your car and start the engine, but you don’t pull out right away. You just sit there, hands tight on the wheel, eyes fixed ahead. After a moment, you let your head fall forward against it, trying to steady your breathing before you move.

After a moment, you lift your head, straighten your grip on the wheel, and pull out of the driveway.

You don’t look back as you leave.

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Stitched: Bruised and bloodied, you end up with the last person you thought you'd turn to.

Mended: Bruised and bloodied, you end up with the last person you'd thought you'd turn to, and you’ve got a delivery to make.

Topstitch: Bruised and bloodied, you end up with the last person you thought you'd turn to, and now you're on the road with him.

Dart: Bruised and bloodied, you end up with the last person you thought you'd turn to, and you've just made a new friend.

Gather: Bruised and bloodied, you end up with the last person you thought you'd turn to, and he wants answers.

Casing: Bruised and bloodied, you end up with the last person you thought you'd turn to, and you're taking him to see an old friend.

Gusset: Bruised and bloodied, you end up with the last person you thought you'd turn to, and the kudzu is speaking.

Appliqué: Bruised and bloodied, you end up with the last person you thought you'd turn to, and now you're getting tattooed.

Bar Tack: Bruised and bloodied, you end up with the last person you thought you’d turn to, and you’re due for a night out.