oceansglimmer

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹ about me ⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

hiii !! i'm ocean. i'm 25 and a grad student. my pronouns are she/they. i love tigers, sanrio, mint chocolate flavored things, shawn hatosy, and writing. i wanted to make a blog so i could have fun writing stuff that isn't for school. my writing here probably won't be super polished or great, mostly it is just a space for me to enjoy myself :) i mostly am writing about jack abbot (and other shawn hatosy characters) right now, but i also enjoy writing about other pitt characters and kylo ren. i kind of fixate on things though so expect mostly shawn hatosy characters

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹ masterlist ⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

pope cody:

guarddog!pope

first time with pope

pope doesn't like being called baby

pope hugs

taking pope's virginity

jack abbot:

hot older neighbor jack

taking care of jack after his shift

jack buying you clothes

it starts off small. when you come around he's following you, prowling around behind you, staring as you laugh or drink or lay out in the sun. it isn't safe, he tells himself, for some sweet girl like you to be hanging around places with so many ill-intended people. he's just keeping you safe is all, glaring at guys who try to approach you. they wouldn't treat you right, not as good as you deserved.

and it isn't his fault you reward the behaviors! you're always smiling at him, throwing little "hi andrew!"s his way, asking him to help you open beer bottles because your "nails get in the way :(" or asking him to help you put sunscreen on your pretty back. you like him following you around, he knows it. so it isn't so bad is it?

it escalates quickly. it isn't enough anymore to just monitor you when you're at the bar or the house. so he starts following you. technically, maybe, if you looked at things a certain way... it could be stalking. but you're pretty much his girlfriend now. you may not know it yet, but you will eventually. and what kind of man would he be if he didn't keep an eye on his girl? so he starts sitting in his car outside of where you work, anxiously waiting for your shift to be over so he can see you walk safely to your car.

there's one instance where you're pumping gas after work. it was late and you were in such a cute outfit, your hair a bit messy after a long day, your makeup smudged a bit from the heat. you were so beautiful, but so tired looking. he frowned and was debating if he could go up and pump your gas for you, tell you he'd just happened to be at this gas station too, when a guy comes up to you. he doesn't even wait to see what the man might need. he's out of his truck and practically sprinting over to put a stop to whatever it is that man is trying with you.

he gets up to you and he can hear you awkwardly laughing, uncomfortable by whatever the man had said. and then pope's fist is flying out and you're letting out a startled cry, all wide-eyed and shocked at the sudden intrusion. he feels a little bad for that, not wanting you scared, but what else was he supposed to do?

"don't do shit like that again," pope says gruffly to the man who was bleeding from his nose and scrambling back.

it's a relief you aren't scared of pope after that. you smile, still a little shaky from the shock of it all, and pull pope in to kiss his cheek, giving a little thank you popey! so he knows you appreciated him. you weren't going to feel sorry for some creep bothering you at night. pope had given that guy what he deserved in your eyes, and that kind of trust in him had him smiling a little, even though his knuckles ached from the impact.

you believe him when he tells you he'd just been pulling in to get gas and saw you getting harassed. you tell him maybe it was fate and he smiles and nods, letting you tell him about how your horoscope totally predicted this happening today. you don't need to know he'd been following you around for a while now.

after that, he starts feeling weary over the idea of you being out at night. he was only one person and while he was almost always there, it was inevitable that a job or some other family crisis would pull him away from his routine of keeping an eye on you. so he starts breaking into your car. though, in his defense, you have a bad habit of forgetting to lock it when you go into work just another reason you need him here watching over things. he drives down to the gas station, makes sure you have a full tank, and then drives back and parks in the same spot you'd had it before. guys pay for their girlfriend's gas, he was certain of that. and you had kissed him hadn't you? on the cheek, but still. he could take things slow. you were still his girlfriend now and he wanted to be a good boyfriend.

eventually, you catch on to the fact that your car seems to have a permanent full tank. you can't afford to have it actually looked at, so you go to pope asking if he can see if something is wrong. you haven't bought gas in so long and it was worrying you. pope could have come clean then, but something made him hesitate. he needed to wait and make sure he didn't scare you off. so instead he just popped the hood of your car and made a big show of checking things out, you didn't have a clue about cars anyways, so he was sure you'd believe whatever he had to say.

"hmm, everything looks good, i wouldn't worry about it," he says reassuringly, looking at where you're sat on a stool in the garage, chubby calves dangling down and swinging mindlessly while you sipped on a soda he'd brought out for you.

"well that's a relief, thank you andrew!" you tell him, all cheerful and happy. why would pope lie to you? if he says your car is good then it is!

it's been weeks now of you being his girlfriend without knowing and he's getting a bit restless especially at night. when you slip into your shitty apartment and he doesn't see you for hours he feels sick with anxiety. anything could go wrong with you in there out of his sight, so he starts climbing up your fire escape and slipping through your window at night. he's very careful, waiting until he's certain you're sleeping. and, in his defense, he's incredibly polite about it. no matter how inviting it sounds to peek into your panty drawer, or reach out and touch your perfect sleeping face, he doesn't. he just sits in the dark watching over you and then he slips back out before sunrise.

as much as he loves to do all of this for you, it starts to take a toll. he isn't sleeping much anymore and because of that, he gets a bit sloppy and careless. his first mistake is parking your car in the wrong spot one day. you seem confused when you get out and he curses himself for such a dumb move. he should know his girlfriend's parking spot, he's not being a very good boyfriend by forgetting. his next mistake is when his impulse control gets bad and he starts taking things from your house. a used pair of panties. a lip gloss. the receipts you've been shoving into your messy purse (which, he only does because he wants to know all of the things you like to buy! it's thoughtful).

in the wake of his carelessness, you begin to notice all of the weird stuff happening. it makes you all nervous, even asking a guy at work if they can walk you to your car at night because you think someone's following you. that irritates pope badly. why would you need protection from your boyfriend who does so much for you? so he makes the decision one night to leave your window open just a bit so you'll know someone had been there.

he's so immensely pleased when you call him that morning, smiling as he answers the phone.

"hi andrew," you start, voice all shaky and nervous, "i'm sorry i'm bothering you. i just... i don't know who else to call. i think someone's been stalking me. i think they've been in my house."

you sound so teary and upset that he feels a little guilty, but that guilt is outweighed by the satisfaction of knowing he is who you call when you're scared.

"it's alright sweetheart," he says, all gentle and steady like a boyfriend should be, "why don't i come pick you up and you stay with me until we figure it out?"

You meet Pope in the depths of summer. You’re a friend of Deran’s, hanging around with him and a couple of people you didn’t know at the Cody house. People are stumbling drunk and high around the pool and the air smells of smoke and chlorine hangs in the air. You’re only half-paying attention to the conversation being had. Instead, your gaze had fallen on the man who was standing on the other side of the pool staring you down. His stare is intense and unwavering, chin tipped ever so slightly down. You haven’t met him, but you recognize he is Deran’s older brother. You’d seen him once before when you’d dropped by to see Deran. Pope had been standing out in the pool, fully dressed and staring off into the distance. 

“That’s just my brother,” Deran had said, his jaw tensing a little as he looked away from you, “I’d ignore it. He’s just… yeah. He’s going through some shit.”

“You don’t have to explain,” you told him, gentle in response to his defensive tone, “I understand. Everyone has stuff to work through.” 

Now, Pope was staring at you, not looking away even though you’d noticed and were looking back. Normally, something like that would make you, or anyone else, uncomfortable. Instead, you smile a little at him. That takes Pope by surprise. He’d anticipated you to flinch away, to duck your head and mumble to your friends that some scary guy was watching you. Your smile disarms him so much he starts stalking over to you, your eyes staying on him the entire time. 

When he reaches you he stands looming over your chair, looking between your face and the beer bottle in your hand. You’re about to say something when he doesn’t speak, but his expression has shifted into a faint frown and his gaze has slipped over to the people talking. 

“Dude, you have to establish dominance and be like- the alpha wolf or some shit.” A guy was saying. You roll your eyes and sigh, already bored by whatever it is he was saying. 

“Actually, there aren’t alpha wolves in the wild,” Pope is interjecting. His voice is raspy yet softer than you thought it would be.

The group falls silent, Deran included, and turns to give Pope confused looks. 

“They’re pack animals. They… they work together. Wolves cooperate and take care of each other.”

You hear one of the girls give a confused laugh and turn to watch her exchange looks with her friends, adopting a wide-eyed this guy is sooo weird look. When you turn back to Pope he’s shifting from heel to heel, flexing his fingers one at a time. 

“This is my brother Pope,” Deran says to you, clearing his throat while the other people, who you were starting to dislike more by the second, laughed with each other. You watch Pope’s nervous hands as he stands in silence. 

“I was watching a documentary that talks about that the other day,” you say finally, staring up at Pope from where you’re seated. You smile a little at him. You notice that he subtly pouts his lips a little when he’s thinking. It’s a cute expression you think, especially from someone as intense as him. 

“I watch a lot of nature documentaries.” Pope finally says, his voice a little quieter. 

He's walking away before you can respond.

- 

You can’t get Pope off your mind after that. There was just something about him. You didn’t know what exactly. He’d just found his way into your head and wouldn’t leave. 

The next time you see him he’s sitting on a chair and watching, unsurprisingly, one of the documentaries he seems to love so much. You’d planned to just come over to use the pool, Deran told you that it was fine whenever you wanted, but when you got to the house you saw Pope sitting there watching TV. 

He didn’t seem relaxed. He’s sitting with a stiff back, his eyes fixed on the screen where coyotes are slinking through a hot desert. You’re wearing shorts and a bikini top, the sun and pool outside so so inviting. Yet, you don’t make your way outside. Instead, you find yourself sinking onto the couch quietly, studying Pope for a moment before turning your attention to the documentary. You aren’t sure Pope even notices your presence until he speaks.

“Coyotes take really good care of their pups,” he says suddenly, making you turn to look at him, “they mate for life and some of the pups stay with their family their whole lives. People think they’re bad but they aren’t.” 

You can’t see his full face from your angle, but you can see enough to know this is something his mind has been working over for a while. 

“They don’t sound bad at all to me,” you say and he finally turns to look at you, “it sounds nice, having a family that you can always be with.” 

Pope watches you for a long moment before turning away.

“Are you here to swim?” He finally asks. 

You shrug even though he isn’t looking at you anymore. Part of you is let down that he isn’t. 

“I was, but I thought what you were watching looked interesting,” you say, wondering if you were bothering him now.

“I used to love swimming.” Pope says. 

“Yeah?” You ask, smiling now, happy he’s wanting to talk, “Do you still like to?” 

Pope does his little thinking pout and then shakes his head. 

“I don’t know. I haven’t really swam in a long time.” 

That’s enough to have you standing up, offering him your hand. 

“Come on,” you say, standing in front of him, his hazel eyes trailing slowly up your body in a way that makes your chest feel a bit warm. When he gives you a confused look you smile, shaking your hand in front of him, urging him to take it, “I’m serious. It’s a beautiful day out and you have a pool. We should swim.”

He eventually takes your hand and allows you to drag him to stand up. His eyes have softened a little, that everpresent troubled look to him easing away. 

“Go change into something you can swim in.” You tell him as you try to let go of his hand, but he’s not letting go of yours. You watch his throat move as he swallows and looks away.

“I’ll swim in this.” 

He’s in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, which isn’t really strange to swim in considering you’d seen him standing in the pool wearing jeans before. 

“Okay,” you tell him, smiling brightly, pleased that he at least isn’t denying you. 

His hand feels heavy in yours, his fingers thick and warm as they engulf your own. He doesn’t let go even as you drag him to the pool. You take your shorts off, wanting to strip to your bikini bottoms. Even then he isn’t letting go of your hand. He stands awkwardly beside you as you use one hand to unbutton your little denim shorts. Something about it all makes you more endeared towards him, his need for contact making you soften even more towards him. If he wants to keep holding your hand you don’t mind. 

You notice his hazel eyes following as your shorts slide down to your ankles and you step out of them. Out here in the sun you can see the depth in them, the greens and browns that weave together in his irises. 

He finally releases your hand, the motion reluctant, and then strips off his t-shirt. You don’t mean to stare, really you don’t. But it’s impossible not to. His frame is strong and broad. You vaguely remember an offhand comment Craig once made about Pope boxing and you try to imagine going up to fight against him. You imagine the weight of his body hurtling towards someone else, how terrifying the solidity of him must be when you’re on the opposite end of his fist. 

When he reaches for you though, it’s timid and gentle, tentatively lacing your fingers together as if he is afraid you might not let him. 

“Come on,” you say, smiling and looking at his face again where you notice his cheeks have taken on a touch of pink. 

You step down into the water, shivering a little at how cold it feels compared to the heat outside. Pope follows you until you’re standing chest deep, the water hitting a bit lower on him than it does on you. 

“Your pool is so nice. I wish I had one.” You sigh and float onto your back, liking how it made you feel weightless.

Pope has finally released your hand again, opting instead to slowly drag his open palms back and forth through the cool water. 

“I mostly swam at motels as a kid,” Pope says, his voice a little quieter now, “Smurf had us moving around a lot before we got this place.” 

You hum and lean forwards so you’re upright again, facing him. He’s sunk down a little into the water so the top of it laps over his chin.

“What made you stop?” 

The question makes him turn his head away from you, hesitating before just shrugging in response. You’re sure there’s something there but you worry prying will just make him pull away. Instead you just float in the water with him, watching as he finally ducks under the water, swimming across the pool. 

When he resurfaces he’s smiling, the first you’ve ever seen on him. His teeth are a little crooked and you notice the lines that form by his eyes like rivers. You grin back, laughing a little which makes him laugh too. It feels easy to be around him like this and your ease makes him feel all mixed up inside. When was the last time anyone had felt comfortable with him like this? He wasn’t sure. Your openness encouraged him though, made him feel like there were poprocks fizzing in his chest. 

The two of you swam like that for a while, losing track of time, you mostly watching as he dove under water or spun or floated. His curls were soaked and sticking to his scalp, and you swore he somehow had even more freckles than he had earlier. He was beautiful like this and you felt greedy with it, desperate to drink in every piece of himself he’d give. 

When you were both too tired to stay in the water you both dragged yourselves out of the pool. The sun has begun to set and the air is cooling down. You wrap yourself in a towel and watch Pope as he roughly dries himself off, his back muscles shifting under his skin. You watch the movement of him a little too closely and he notices, meeting your gaze. You go warm in the face and quickly turn away, focusing on squeezing some of the water from your hair. 

“If you want… you can use my shower. You know, stay over for dinner or somethin’.” Pope has that awkwardness to him again, but still seems lighter than before. 

“That’d be nice,” you say, and then you’re smiling again and he is too. You’ve probably smiled more at him in one day than anyone has in his whole life.