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I had a lot of fun researching lower leg prosthesis for these drawings. During my research I disovered that prosthetics are incredibly expensive and wondered if Dr Abbots health insurance could cover a more athletic prosthetic for sporty days.
Thanks to @shawnhatosysbulge for the sporty Shawn Hatosy reference photos. Thanks again, my friend keep up the good work <3
Hiii!!! I love your writing sm!! Thank you for sharing your incredible writing with us :)))
I have a brendon park x reader where she LOVES to bake (just as a hobby) like there is literally never a day throughout the week where they don’t have some sort of baked good at home. She also has a majorrrr sweet tooth and loves eating sweet things. So people at work start noticing brendon with a sweet treat and they like ??? Cause he’s an ortho bro we all know how serious they are about their health & weight lifting so they get a bit suspicious. Only to find out that he has a gf that bakes sooooo much and he doesn’t have it in him to break her heart and tell her that he doesn’t like eating sweets but he would literally do anything to make her happy. Even going as far as putting on a couple of pounds bc he cant say no to her & he just loves her soso much (‘:
pairing: Dr. Brendon Park x fem!reader
warnings: fluff! Soft!brendon park, some of the pitt crew, lowk ortho bro!brendon, mentions of chonkier Brendon, no physical descriptions of reader, hello kitty containers, bad grammar.
a/n: Omg hi!! Thank you for being my first ask!! And thank you for the immense compliment! But omg, I think this would be so cute! I’m not sure if this is like a request (idk I’ve never done this before 🥹) but i love it! (FYI one scene is inspired from Abbott elementary so iykyk) Hope I did your ask justice hahahaha nsnsjdjdnjdislsjrbcleodkalaodi
It was practically comical how he looked walking into the Emergency Department every week with two different sized containers. Both a bright pink and a bunch of Hello kitty heads floating on them like some unintentional warning signs. He held them carefully, like they were fragile evidence of a crime he kept committing voluntarily.
He always went straight to the break room—the one with bad coffee, the unspoken rule that free food didn’t get questioned, and now with emotional support sweet treats in aggressively “cute” packaging.
The larger container went down on the table first like always.
The smaller one just stayed in his hand because it was personal. Untouchable. Made specifically just for him.
By the time he left the room and made it to the nurses station—Robby, Abbot, and Dana were already mid-conversation. They all noticed him immediately, exchanging the same knowing look before smiling.
“Park,” Abbot smirked without looking up from his chart. “You’re late. I was starting to get worried that Hello Kitty finally killed you with a brownie.”
Brendon gave him an unimpressed stare. “She made s’mores cookies. New recipe. Eat them or don’t. I don’t care.”
Dana peeked at him through her glasses. “That sounds like a threat.”
“It is.” He said.
Abbot looked at the single container in his hand, amused by how small it looked in his hand. “She still got you on the weekly candy crush drop?”
“it’s compliance.”
Robby snorted. “You mean you brought emotional blackmail in cookie form.”
Brendon didn’t respond to that. He wasn’t entirely wrong. He gets to see you happy hearing the compliments the crew gives you and in return they keep shut and get free treats out of it.
They don’t get to complain.
It’s become a weekly occurrence at this point, though. Abbot, Robby, and Dana made it their unofficial entertainment—teasing him for his voluntary once-a-week stop to the Pitt like clock work. They were also the only ones who knew his secret. After he grimaced from eating a cinnamon roll in the break room.
A secret he kept from you—his fiancé of two years.
A catastrophic secret, in his opinion. One that would absolutely make you upset. One that he didn’t have the heart to tell you because that meant seeing a sad, crestfallen expression that didn’t belong on your beautiful face.
He didn’t like sweets. He never did.
It wasn’t that he hated your pastries. You knew how to bake. You’ve been doing it practically your entire life as a hobby. The problem was that he just… didn’t like pastries.
As a category of food. Or alone.
And unfortunately, yours have fallen in that category. But still, like clockwork, he would bring the large container and leave it at the break room because you insisted on making enough for his coworkers.
Then when he had time, he’d devour the ones in his personal container. Made specifically for him. He didn’t like them. Not really. He just ate them anyway.
If his taste buds were wired differently, he’s sure he’d love them. But as of right now, he didn’t.
Unfortunately, anything requiring sugar, flour, or what he considered an unnecessary amount of butter fell into the same category: sin and punishment disguised as dessert. Cookies. Brownies. Cake. Pastries. Cinnamon rolls—especially cinnamon rolls—were, in his medical and professional, opinion a personal attack.
It went against his meal plan. His daily calorie intake. It didn’t have the necessary nutrients to maintain his current figure. The protein that he needed to consume before the day finished.
But yet every week without fail, he showed up here with said personal attacks like they were precious cargo that deserved to be shared and enjoyed. Because you baked them, because you worked hard on them. You poured endless effort and love into them every week.
And everyone was required to eat and enjoy them.
“You ever gonna tell her you don’t like em, kid?” Abbot leaned against the counter.
Silence. Then Brendon adjusted the container in his hand, bringing to closer to him protectively.
“I like them.” Brendon said stiffly.
“Jesus, I don’t know how you do it.” Robby shook his head with a laugh and crossed arms.
“I just eat them.” Brendon said flatly.
“You eat cookies you hate every week.” Dana pointed out.
“I don’t hate them.” Brendon corrected.
Robby laughed. “You fuckin’ absolutely do.”
Brendon glared at him. “I tolerate them.”
“That’s basically hate with extra steps.” Abbot groaned.
Grabbing a cookie from his personal container, he slowly brought it to his mouth and took a bite out of it. Immediately, he regretted it. But he was trying to prove a point.
He kept eating eating it. He kept eye contact with all three of them as he chewed, swallowing thickly as his tastebuds were hit with sickly sweetness before taking another bite.
Still sugar. Still buttery. Still everything his body treated like a personal offense.
“Jesuuus fuckin’ Christ, brother.” Robby groaned.
Off to the side, pretending not to listen, Javadi observed them from the corner of her eye. Careful not to catch the attention of the intimidating surgeon (in her honest, opinion).
“Wooow, how are you miserable eating a cookie?”
Santos glanced over.
“He literally looks like he’s experiencing PTSD.” She huffed.
Had you been in front of him. He would have complimented you. It wouldn’t necessarily be a lie. They’re good because everyone thinks they’re good. Because everything you baked was delicious.
“Brother, just tell her already.” Abbot shook his head. “It’s been five years! You cant keep doing this to yourself.”
“He is lit-rally torturing himself as we speak.” Robby rubbed his temple like he was the one being subjected to said torture.
“Oh my god, is he still seriously making himself eat cookies he doesn’t like because he doesn’t know how to tell his fiancé that his taste buds are sad and miserable?” Walsh’s loud sigh echoed as she pulled in next to them.
“Yep.” Simultaneously, they all responded. Except for Brendon. Who just stood there with his jaw clenched and silent brooding.
“Shark, you’re pathetic.” Walsh rolled her eyes.
He gave her a hard look before snapping the container shut aggressively.
“…I’m bulking.”
“Yeah, against your will.” Abbot snorted.
Silence. Then Brendon abruptly walked away with the pink container in his hand. The three of them just watched him, amused.
They just didn’t get it. They didn’t have you. They didn’t understand that he would do anything to keep you happy. They didn’t see the way your face would light up every time he complimented a new recipe. The way you looked pleased and proud that he looked like he was enjoying himself while eating a saffron chiffon cake. (Which honestly didn’t taste that bad.)
So while his tastebuds suffered, he didn’t stop. Hadn’t stopped for the last five years.
Even if it meant sacrificing his abs that he worked very hard for. Even if his scrubs started feeling a little tighter than usual. He’d just have to work out at the gym ten times harder just to maintain them. Up his protein.
But it was a price he was willing to pay happily if it meant seeing your beaming expression.
Bonus:
When he got home, he could already smell it. The sweetness and the warmth. It was familiar in a way that made him slow down before he even opened the door.
Soft music drifted from the kitchen. He sat his backpack down quietly. Your hello kitty containers still in his hands before he places them quietly onto the counter.
He came up behind you, settling his larger body into you instinctively. His chest was pressed against your back, steadying you as his hands find your waist, tugging you closer to him.
He swayed you gently to the beat of the song (About You by 1975) without murmuring a single thing. Just enjoying, indulging in your presence, touch and scent.
You had let out a small squeak at the suddenness but you relaxed when your hands touched his arms and the familiarity of his body. After a moment as you hummed to the song, you turned in his arms to face him.
“Hi, baby!” You beamed, wrapping your arms around his neck. You give a small peck on the lips before you nuzzled your nose against his cheek like you were trying to keep him there with you forever.
“What are you making this time, hm?” He asked softly as pressed a kiss against the crown of your head.
You pulled back and your eyes brightened. “Okay, that’s what I’ve been dying to tell you all day!”
You tug him closer to the stove where the pan was already out. Brownies with a corner already missing.
“You started without me.” He scowled, voice flat.
You smiled guiltily. “Yeah duh, it’s called quality control! Bakers gotta know what they bake, okay?”
He hummed at your response. His eyes flickered to the pan. It was dark, dense, rich. Probably very sweet. His eye twitched and he pursed his lips at the sight for a second. All qualities that make a good brownie, he supposed.
“Looks good.” He complimented softly.
“I knoooow! But here try it, it’s a different recipe and I think you’d love it actually.”
You beamed before you grabbed a fork and tore a piece into the delicate, soft gooeyness. A small smile formed on his lips but he sighed inwardly. He’ll just have to add another hour to his work out, he supposed.
He parted his lips and bit down on the fork before pulling his head away as he chewed. He doesn’t show a reaction yet. He just processes the taste of the brownie. You watched him closely.
A pause. There’s a subtle, delicate taste of sweetness flooded his tastebuds. And for the first time, he finds that he’s enjoying it.
He’s enjoying a fucking brownie.
He’s confused. He doesn’t know what to do with this information. It represented everything he normally hated and disliked but he found himself wanting more. It’s a fluke. It had to be.
He carefully grabs the fork from you before he dips into the brownie before shoving it into his mouth. Again, he chews but it’s slower. Like he’s trying to explain what changed. Why his tastebuds were suddenly enjoying themselves after years of complaining for tasting similar treats.
It’s good. It’s genuinely delicious. It’s rich, sweet but not too sweet where he was questioning his food choices.
“What— What did you change?”
“You like it huh? Yeah, I knew you would.” You said smugly. “I saw it on TikTok so I had to make it for you.”
He looked at you expectantly.
“It’s all natural, baby!” You chirped. “It’s just sweet potatoes, some honey because you used the agave syrup the other day, cacao powder, eggs, Greek yogurt, and vanilla. Some 100% dark chocolate pieces.”
All natural ingredients that shouldn’t have made sense as a dessert. But somehow they did. Because you created something cohesive, warm, rich in a way that shouldn’t have been possible. Worse, you made it because you assumed he would love it and he did. It was delicious enough to make Brendon want to get seconds.
Enough for thirds— even fourths.
So he cuts himself another piece. Much larger than the usual pieces you give him.
“It’s—“ he looked at you. “It’s really good.”
You blinked. “Yeah?”
He nodded. “Can you make this again? Soon?”
You’re surprised by his reaction. It’s frankly… very uncharacteristic of him. His reactions to your desserts have always been very minimal. Controlled. Always a quiet, “it’s good.” Sometimes a nod to show he liked it. Never seconds. Never this.
But he always ate what you baked. Always. And he always texted you at work that he enjoyed it, that it was good that he practically inhaled it.
But definitely not like this.
Not standing in your shared kitchen. Not devouring the piece on his plate in less than a minute. Not reaching for another piece eagerly.
Can you make this again?
It’s a request. One he never asked you to make before. Because he usually never had to. Never really wanted to.
And somehow, you knew that this time it was different. That he meant it.
“Of course, Bren.” You smiled. “I’ll make some tomorrow so you can take to work.”
tom lofts with a kinky reader except it kind of scares him… like wym u have a breeding kink? on THIS island of all places?? but then he’s inside of u and ur begging him to take the condom off and suddenly he’s stammering about keeping u pregnant and full…
or or or reader who wants him to be rough with her, and he’s SO nervous about it, asking “was that okay” after each slap and feeling so guilty at how turned on he is :(
a kink in my neck
(out of depth tom loftis x horny reader headcanons)
- Tom Loftis x reader fic tag - (maybe writing obsessive! Tom, maybe not…if y'all have any ideas for him obsessive and pathetic, I'm open to them!)
breeding kink breeding kink breeding kink (and a bit of panicked slapping)
You think Tom's having a stroke after you tell him that you want him to fill you up. You actually think you might've broken his brain, but fear not! He's just extremely alarmed.
"You cannot say things like that here."
"In your office? No one's here."
"No. No, love. On this island."
Tom's not kink-shaming you, okay? There are just a million reasons why having a thing for...breeding is the wrong thing to have when you're on Widow's Bay.
First, he has firsthand experience with accidental pregnancies. Evan is the best thing to happen to him, but surely a breeding kink would end in multiple babies that neither of you can handle? Right? Or is it just the...actually filling-you-up part that gets you off?
...That's nice. He could handle that. Fantasy doesn't happen to extend into reality, but, you know, there are also cursed bloodlines. Can't take any chances.
There's also the mayoral archive labeled UNEXPLAINED INFANTS that Tom hasn't dared touch since he's become mayor.
"Do you understand that Widow’s Bay has historically responded very poorly to the reproduction of residents?"
You laugh, but this is serious, because now the thought of breeding you is in his head. He knows you're on birth control, but still, there's the fantasy you planted.
You are very, very cheeky. And cruel. Why does he love you?
Tom knows now that you want that from him, that you want him that way...
And he's quite frightened at the fact that he likes it. He likes it far too much, and at first he tries to treat it as something you enjoy and can indulge in responsibly, same thing as letting you call him Mr. Mayor in that tone that makes his ears go red. Right?
Thing is, Tom is touch-starved and pathetically affected by being wanted by the very pretty, very knowing woman that you are, which makes this newfound breeding kink difficult for him to not die from.
And this is Widow's Bay. There are many things to die from.
You want evidence of him inside of you? You want Tom to lose enough control that the wanting turns into fucking his cum up inside your pussy, making you leak because she's too full?
Tom panics a little.
"Tom, it's just dirty talk, okay? That's all it is."
"Well, it's not really a casual request."
You are on birth control. You are both adults, and you've talked about limits with Tom, but your pretty pussy's squeezing his cock. He thought he was getting better and not blowing so prematurely.
And now you're under him, grinding into his hips, wanting his baby.
In bed, with you soft and hot around him, pulling him closer every
"I'm trying to be responsible. You gotta--gotta stop looking pleased."
"I need you irresponsible, how else are you gonna fuck your baby in my belly, Tommy?"
Tom's hips stutter against yours, and the soft squelching of your pussy swallowing his cock with every thrust halts.
"Take it off, Tom. Please, for me. I wanna feel all of you."
...Now he's sure you only asked him to wear a condom just so you could do this.
He pulls out with a shaky breath and pulls off the sticky condom before looking to you again. He's sure you'll change your mind.
But you immediately pull Tom down, his chest smushing against your tits. He makes this whimpered, low noise he will deny later.
Oh God.
When Tom slips back inside you, cock completely bare against your warm, wet, impossibly tight walls, he stutters.
Both in thrust and moan.
"Oh, oh...fuck. Oh God."
He says this while barely moving, jaw tight until it opens for warbles. His forehead drops to yours.
Then you clench around him, and that's enough for Tom to slam his hand beside your head...
Just before he starts fucking you against the headboard, every thrust made up of impossibly quick half-seconds and balls slapping. His cock barely slips out of you before slamming back in.
"You're gonna kill me."
"Fill me up first."
At that, Tom has no choice, groping your breast and sucking your nipple, but to turn filthy as his precum coats the inside of your pussy with his harsh, uneven fucks.
But he stammers into his confidence. Can't trust Tom to be smooth.
The words, desperate, have to be dragged out of him.
"Yo-you want that?"
His hips smack against your hips as he thrusts deeper.
"You want me to---God, you want me to keep you full? Put a baby in your belly?"
You nod, hands fisting his hair.
"Say it."
You do, and Tom drags his mouth away from your spit-drowned nipple and kisses you. It's just as sloppy, but there's still so much love. Love and tongue.
"You want me to keep you pregnant in my bed and act like I’m still a respectable man in public?"
You moan.
"Tell me again."
You tell Tom you want him to cum inside you, that you want to feel him drained, that you want him to push his cum so deep that you'll still be leaking and swoleen tomorrow.
He starts fucking you harder, still somehow tender. Even when he's talking and fucking filthy, he can't stop kissing you like he loves you. Which he does. Tom's very apt.
"Good? Is that good? Don't--don't say it unless you actually mean it."
There's no breath in his question. You nod. That's not what he wanted. He asked you to answer him. A nod is not an answer. He needs to know if you want him cum turning you swollen and big with a baby, and you're not answering him---
"Say it! Please!"
He slaps your hips. Hard. Just before his hand reaches to iron-grip your chin.
"You're good, Tom. You're so good. I wanna be full with your cum. Blow your load and give me a baby."
When Tom listens and finally cums inside you, it's about as elegant as the rest of the sex, which is not at all. He's loud, with high moans and groans.
"Okay, fuck!"
He buries himself deep and holds you there, shaking with his face pressed into your neck while he lays your name against your skin. And for several moments, he can barely move. He just breathes heavy against you, still inside your pussy.
He rests his hand on your stomach.
"Are you all right?"
You laugh before telling him yes, and that how can you not be? He's yours. He's yours to swallow whole by the cock.
But you'll learn that you shouldn't say things like that to Tom. Not when you're pressing his hand more firmly to your belly.
"...Okay, just making sure. Think I got a little harsh there."
hey, i don't know if you do request, but what about brendon Park x wife!medical malpractice attorney? and they have a kid together who needs urgent medical attention for a sprained ankle, aaaand she is just as intimidating as park. u can feel the pressure and tension in that room for both having the shark and a well recognized medical malpractice attorney
okay I did peds reader bc they’re almost the same??? lol
brendon park x peds wife!reader
SHALLOW WATERS
"what've we got?" robby asked as the paramedics wheeled in.
"11 year old male, bp 119/73, HR 111, RR 20. apparently he took a fall; reporting pain to the left ankle." the EMT leaned in closer. talking in his ear. "neighbors called it in."
the attendings eyebrows drew in. “parents?" the medic tipped his head toward the kid discreetly. "he said his parents were at work— didn't say where. but he was adamant about coming here.”
robby glanced at the boy then back to the EMT. almost as if needing clarification. “we were closer to Presby.”
it wasn’t new to have patients rerouted. but it wasn’t something they’d ask for. especially by someone this kid's age. if his condition was worse, they would’ve taken him to Presby. no hesitation.
“his name?”
“Henry— didn’t get the last. we were trying to get his heart rate down, his adrenaline was high.“ the medic explained. “besides his request to come here, he didn’t talk much after that. I assumed he was still in shock from the pain.”
“and the neighbors didn’t say anything else? where his parents are or where they work?” robby needed something. the medic shook his head. “not to me.” his head turning over to his partner. “Pzsonyi— did the couple tell you anything about the parents?”
“said they were doctors.”
and he was adamant about coming here.
“that should narrow it down. not like we have a hospital full of those—” robby said sarcastically. “we got it from here.”
robby turned and walked towards where the nurses were. the blonde already fixed on him as he approached.
“you good?” dana asked as she watched over the rim of her glasses.
Robby’s hands went behind his neck as he blew out a breath. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
he then looked over his shoulder where the boy was across the floor of the department. “the 11 year old patient that just came in” his head gestured back. Dana’s eyes following. “would you be able to work your magic and get his emergency contacts? came in without anyone. according to the EMT, his parents work here.”
the charge nurse's eyes pinched a bit.
"they work here?"
Robby shrugged. “I’m not for sure,” Dana gave him a look, rolling her eyes.
“one of the medics said his parents were doctors and the other told me the boy was insistent on coming here. It’s a long shot but I could only assume.” robby scratched his beard. Dana gave him a nod. “I’ll see what I can do.”
His hands clapped together, grasping one another as he gave her a tight lipped smile. A silent thank you before he turned to leave. heading over to where Henry was.
Jesse was with him. A smile on the boy's face despite his damp cheeks.
“Henry, right?” robby started as he grabbed some gloves. blue eyes stared back at him, then a nod. a quiet ‘yes sir’ given.
it was a small movement. the corner of Robby’s mouth lifted up.
Respectful.
his attention turned to Jesse. “500 mg of acetaminophen, 350mg of ibuprofen. and let’s get him in for xrays.” Jesse nodded as he gets the meds ready.
“We’re gonna get a hold of your mom and dad, Henry– let them know you’re here.” robby circled back to the patient. The attending watching. The boy’s lips parting before licking the bottom. almost as if it was on the tip of his tongue and he decided against it. “Okay.”
“I hear they’re doctors here, any chance I might–”
“Robinavitch.” Dana peeked in. Robby glanced up. The charge nurse's head tipped the other way. “a word.”
Robby gave Henry’s shoulder squeeze. “I’ll be right back, in the mean time, Jesse here,” hand motioning to the tall male nurse, “aaaand” Robby’s head swiveled. eyes catching two of his students.
Student and first year resident.
“Whitaker. Ogilvie.”
the two turned when they heard their names. Robby signaling them over.
“Dr. Whitaker and Dr. Ogilvie,”
“Student Doctor.” James interrupted with a finger up. Robby paused and nodded. “Right– are going to assist.”
“Dr. Robby, we don’t–” whitaker’s words fell short as the older man delivered a shoulder pat. “You got this.” gloves snapped off as he sailed out. The blonde was standing in the hall with pressed lips, tablet held to her chest, and an amused glint in her eyes.
“Did you work your magic?”
A smile stretched across Dana’s face. “I feel like you’re gonna regret asking me.” she laughed. “I did— and you’re never gonna guess who mom and dad are.”
Robby eyed her. “Who?”
Dana flickered her sight a few feet away to where the boys were. her finger pointing to the younger one who sat on the hospital bed.
“you’ve got a baby shark in there.”
Robby blinked. then let out a laugh.
not a nervous one and not an amused one. It was one someone gave when they were just given information they couldn't fathom. Or really, didn’t like. Almost like not wanting to hear what they were just told even if they asked for it and now they were suffering the consequences.
that kind of laugh.
“of course they are.” hands rubbing his eyes as he fell back onto the heels of his feet. “Are we sure?” he squinted as he crossed his arms over his chest.
Dana grinned. “Oh, I’m sure.”
“Did you already let them know?” robby asked.
“And what? risk the chance of there being blood in the water because I waited to tell them that their son was down here. What are you fucking kidding me? Of course I told them.” the charge nurse gave him a wide look as if not believing he really just asked a stupid question.
He was a man afterall.
Robby blew out a breath. “Fuck– okay. When are they–” his question answered when you guys approach.
“Park.”
It was rare to see you both down here at the same time. Not that it never happened, it was just unexpected. The interns said it felt wrong. like seeing a shark itself in the shallow waters.
You hadn’t even acknowledged robby; passing right by. Brendon barely sparing a nod.
“Better not have anyone incompetent with my son.”
Henry looked up when he heard his dad. A wide smile stretching when he saw his mom.
Your persona was washed off. Not at all caring that you were completely exposed. Out in the open. Your hand caressing his cheek, his smaller one on top.
“Are you okay?” a quiet ask. eyes watching him as he nods. “I’m okay.”
A satisfied smile before you press a kiss to his forehead. Squeezing his cheeks in your grasp.
Whitaker and Ogilvie just stared. One not wanting to interrupt and probably too scared to do so, while the other stood with wide eyes. His mouth parted like a fish out of water.
Brendon pressed another kiss to the other side of his head. before his eyes lift to his boy's foot. an ice pack resting on his ankle.
“is he on meds?” Brendon asked as he leaned up. his hand brushing against his son’s hair before pulling gloves out of his scrub pocket. snapping them on.
“500 mg of acetaminophen– 350mg of ibuprofen.” Robby clarified. arms crossed as he nodded.
“iced the area to—” “I’m not blind.”
Whitaker closed his mouth.
“dad.” brendons eyes caught his sons. the boy giving him an unimpressed look that you knew he inherited from the man in front of him. “don’t interrupt.”
your suppress a smile. his words sounded familiar.
brendon cleared his throat. “finish.” gaze on the r1 for a split second before he diverts it.
Whitaker looks to robby, then looks to you then the young boy. he knows now how Ogilvie felt. only this time it was a little more reassuring knowing the kid had his back. he didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse.
“We uh— just iced to reduce the swelling, elevation above heart level. bp now, 105/61, HR 89, 99 on room….” his eyes finding Henry’s. the youngest park giving him a thumbs up.
“xray?” you asked from the side. "dr. robby already had them in order.” whitaker verbalised.
“we’re still waiting to get him in.” the attending intervened quietly. you slowly peeled yourself away from your son. "I'll be back— make sure dad doesn't kill anyone." you joke drily as you leave.
it earns a giggle from the kid.
Ogilvie, who had been surprisingly quiet, turns to where you just left. eyes wide as his head spins. “was she being serious—”
"It was just one time." Henry shrugs.
"One?” Whitaker and Ogilvie echo. Robby’s lips pursing as he watches in amusement. head shaking at how easy it was to reel them in.
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Park the Shark dating a plus size Reader and being absolutely obsessed with her.
Reader is a bit dumbfounded when he hits on her the first time as she's taken one look at him and assumed he's a gym bro who expects a woman to be petite and trim.
Park is pretty insistent he's very into Reader though. He's pretty forward in showing her just how much he likes her.
He likes resting a hand on her hips and backside. He loves biting at her thick thighs. There's no prettier sight than her bent over on his bed her back arched showing off that plush backside he's so obsessed with. He loves resting his head against her heavy breasts.
When she comments on her back rolls, he's pointing out that everyone has some form of folds or rolls in their body. The man has straight up lectured her about how soft tissues work together and allow flexibility. It's natural to have some visible rolls.
When she stares at herself in the mirror on a bad day pinching the fat along her stomach, he's running his hands down her stomach commenting that he thinks she's soft and warm.
Reader usually has confidence with herself, but her family can be a pain, and her exes haven't always been the most genuine.
Park is always stepping up to boost her confidence when it comes to her family and exes though.
The one time she mentions a past boyfriend told her she was too heavy to do certain positions in the bedroom, Park is so fast to disprove that theory. She is sitting on the man's face. She is riding him. He's picking her up even when she protests.
When Reader's less pleasant Aunt comments that she has such a pretty face and would be so stunning if she just lost a few pounds, Park is fast to shut that talk down and comment that his girlfriend is already stunning. He's even petty enough to rub it in to said aunt that Reader has managed to land a surgeon boyfriend...who is aunt's daughter dating again??? Park goes for the jugular.
Park who loves it when Reader wears form fitting dresses on date nights and he gets to admire the body he's so enamored with. He's Reader's biggest hype man.
When he's feeling a little sappy, he maybe is comparing her to Venus figurines even though it does make her roll her eyes just the slightest.
It's shockingly sweet coming from Park the Shark and as their relationship progresses, she realizes he means every word of it.
Could you share some Sweet and spicy hcs for kotetsu c kurage. This might be very much in the nose but I could see them liking to incorporate sweet sauces and stuff in bed
I have some headcons~ a little ooc, but fun for me~
Fluff and a little spice below the cut
Fluff
Kotetsu is romantic in an odd way. Practicing what he’ll say and then double checking with Izumo if it sounds right or cool
Kurage is very cuddly and likes to snuggle up to Kotetsu whenever possible
She brings him her jarred food to pre-loosen not because she can’t do it herself, she just likes that he’s willing to do it for her and doesn’t even question it
Neither is shy about PDA, but they’re not overly gross with it either. Hand holding and quick kisses (both regular and blown) are good enough
Unless they haven’t seen each other for awhile because of a mission. Then they get overjoyed and theatrical upon their reunions
In private she likes moving his bandage to kiss him on the bridge of his nose and he likes pulling her into a kiss by her belt
Kotetsu likes when Kurage runs her fingers through his hair while they’re lounging and will grab her hand to place back on his head if she moves it away before he’s ready
Also enjoys using her thighs as a pillow. The man will be dead to the world if she starts playing with his hair while his head is on her lap
Kurage’s mom took one look at Kotetsu and stated “you are my daughter after all” (mama approves)
Kotetsu never makes an empty promise. If he says he’ll do it, he will. Even if that means he’s showing up in the middle of the night to fulfill said promise
Kurage learned how to make Kotetsu’s favorite meal after many failed attempts and her mother’s help and will make it for him whenever he’s had a tough week
They leave their clothes at each other’s places, but Kurage has left way more stuff at his house than he’s left at her
She bites him playfully when she’s bored, but he’s not allowed to do the same… unless (more in spice)
He started sharpening her weapons for her after she complimented the sharpness of his blades
He picked her up over a puddle once so she wouldn’t get wet and they both paused and laughed because water is her thing
When they actually moved in together, Kotetsu upgraded the bathroom to be “Kurage friendly” (i.e. a good soaking tub and waterproof for her watery whims)
She puts him in matching pigtails as her for their facials
great host when they have friends over
He took her on a date to a hidden lake he found (it’s now favorite date spot)
Kotetsu noticed Kurage is a bit of a picky eater, so he’ll casually take the things he knows she’ll pick around at social gatherings
Spice 🌶️
Kurage initiated their first time together as she took all the play biting and nibbles as foreplay (thanks Hoshigaki genes)
Her gills are extra sensitive too and Kotetsu enjoys kissing them for added stimulation
Syrup is always a yes for the both of them when it comes to foreplay. They think each other taste good anyways, so a little added sweetness is fun
Kotetsu almost always has a love bites on him somewhere. Kurage’s personal favorite place to leave them is on his Adonis belt
Kurage always talks Kotetsu inito some freaky questionable situations because she’s into the thrill of potentially getting caught
She likes being spanked
He’s got an affirmation/praise kink
She’s a squirter and he loves it, BUT he’s learned to have towels under them so they don’t have to worry about the bed
Both of them like taking the lead, but also love when the other takes charge too
Tried to get a quickie in while Izumo was sleeping (they failed and both got lectured by Izumo)
Hear me out!! On this scrumptious Jax Teller x reader idea of mine.
• jax x female samcro member in disguise -
You grew up around biker culture; your father was a part of a small MC miles away from Charming. You learned early that this life isn’t the best for women due to the internal and ingrained misogynistic and sexist news. So, you decided the best way to be accepted as a real member of this life and not as some biker’s ‘old lady’ is to dress up and disguise yourself as a man. That is when you met SAMCRO after you ran away at 16. Clay took you in, seeing potential in you as a young, small, scrappy young man. You started prospecting at 17, got patched in at 19, and the rest is history. No one knows that you’re a woman, and no one will ever know; they can’t. That was until Jax started to really look at you. He started noticing weird and strange mannerisms you portrayed and how you never, in his years of knowing you, ever took a crow-eater to bed or had any interest in women at all
Possible things it could include
• slow burn romance ( jax slowly starts to uncover your secrets and stop seeing you a different way also tension!! )
• bi-curious jax ( jax starts to feel different and other feelings as he starts to look pay more attention to you and he starts having international conflict with himself)
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You however were left completely desperate, heart racing behind your ribs as you watched him walk away. His ass had no right looking that delicious in those jeans, could bounce a damn quarter off him.
A/N: hello! my first fic in almost two months lol I got hit with the idea while I was working(no surprise there)and voila! Feedback is always highly appreciated!
Warnings: weed smoking, mentions of insecurity, reader isn't confident with their body, if I missed anything please let me know!
It was no surprise to anyone the crush you harbored for the oldest Cody brother. Deran had been the first to notice, watching how you would try to get close with Pope. It made him uneasy, more so because everyone knew that Pope wasn't fond of other people. J was the next person to notice, conspiring with Deran on what they should do to try and help you get over the crush. Deran told him not to, promising his nephew that things would eventually work themselves out. Craig was the last one to notice your crush, mainly because he was too busy doing his own thing to focus on what you were doing. Once the trio noticed, it was hard not to notice anything else.
Pope didn't even seem to acknowledge your feelings, his own tasks taking over as he struggled internally. When things with Amy seemed to progress they expected the worst, his attention completely stolen by the blonde. It took them far too long to realize you'd stopped coming around entirely, your presence missing during family dinners. Deran pulled the short straw, sending a text to make sure you were okay.
You replied in kind, using the excuse of being busy with work so you hadn't had much time to spend with them. He knew the truth, anyone that knew you would know why you'd suddenly disappeared. J wanted to drop by, to lend an ear so you weren't so cooped up and alone. His texts went unanswered, the 'read' staring back each and every time.
"I was going to invite her to the party this weekend, but I don't want to sound overbearing," Craig knew you weren't the biggest fan of parties, choosing to stay in and watch trashy reality tv. "Doubt she'd even come if we begged."
Deran couldn't help but roll his eyes, none of them were going to beg you to come over, that was so stupid.
"You know she won't, don't think she'd come over unless he asked her to."
Craig's eyes flicked over to where Pope was cleaning the kitchen sink, scrubbing at a stain that hadn't been there a couple days ago.
"Nope, I'm not luring her here with the promise of seeing him, absolutely not," Deran may have done some sketchy shit in his days, but tricking you with the promise of seeing his brother was downright cruel.
Craig merely shrugged, leaning back in his chair as if he were suddenly out of options. The sun was slowly beginning to dip behind the horizon, leaving a bright orange glow as the three men sat together.
"I'll ask her, won't even use him."
J had already grabbed his phone, sending a text that hopefully sounded inviting. His brows shot up as you replied back, telling him you'd come over for a little bit just to catch up.
That was easier than expected.
💔💔💔💔💔
The party was in full swing when you stepped into the backyard, heart slamming harshly against your ribs. The music was loud, bass making the ground rumble as you looked around for your friends. Craig noticed you first, yelling your name loudly as he ran over.
Before you could utter a word two arms wrapped around your middle, squeezing tight and pulling you into his chest.
"It's been too long, I've missed my favorite girl," Craig squeezed even tighter, chuckling at the squeak that slipped free from your lips.
"Craig!" You wiggled in his hold, attempting to get free and take in some much needed air.
He let go immediately, hands resting against your upper arms as he stepped back slightly. His eyes raked over your body slowly, jaw slackening.
"What's with this little number?" You grimaced at the reminder of the horrific date you'd been on earlier in the day.
"Don't, I wore this on a date just for the guy to call me a slut because I didn't sleep with him," it was nothing new, not since you were a teenager.
Your body didn't look like any of the women around you, your stomach was soft, hips and thighs that jiggled every time you walked. Kids bullied you for being bigger when you were younger. High school was worse, girls snickering while guys would dare their friends to ask you out. It wasn't until you grew into your body did things finally change. Unfortunately now it meant different men thinking you were easy to manipulate.
"A date? Deran! Get over here!" Craig's voice boomed louder than the music, a feat that should've been impossible.
"What the hell are you yelling for?" His brow furrowed, relaxing when he suddenly caught sight of you, pulling you into a much gentler hug.
The scent of beer, cigarettes, and a faint hint of cologne swirled around you. It was one of the only things you could ever associate with Deran, besides being friends for the last few years. His hands rubbed along your back slowly, comforting an ache you had tried so hard to forget about.
"I see you're all dressed up, whose the special guy?" He pulled back slowly, hands sliding to rest against your shoulders.
"Ugh, I had a date before coming over, wasted a perfectly good outfit on him too," you scoffed, rolling your eyes at the recent memory of how skeevy the guy was.
He'd looked at you like a starving dog would a piece of meat. You'd had confident days, more often than not you weren't exactly the happiest person. Seeing his gaze become so disgusting had nearly sent you back out the door you'd come through. Unfortunately you'd continued on with the date, listening to him brag about how much he could deadlift. Just your luck he'd end up being a damn gym bro. What was it about having a full figure that drew them in? Did they think you would find it endearing if they asked you to join the gym?
"A date, huh?" Craig's brows shot up towards his hairline, glancing over at Pope standing in a corner of the backyard.
The oldest Cody's eyes hadn't left you since you arrived at the impromptu party Craig had decided to throw. The way your eyes creased at the corners as you smiled, laughing at some terrible joke his brother had said. It was either a joke, or he'd told you an embarrassing story about Deran. His chest felt tight, an emotion he couldn't quite place slowly taking over all rational thought when Craig threw an arm around your shoulders. He'd pulled you into his side, looking like a picture perfect couple to anyone that didn't know any better. It made him wonder what your feelings towards Craig were. Did you see him as a friend, someone that you could spend time with before leaving at the end of the day. Or did you harbor a crush on him, wanting to spend every waking moment by his side?
No, you'd never showed any kind of interest in his brothers besides being a really good friend.
Right?
Craig snickered at the look of utter distress on Pope's face, the only true giveaway of his thoughts being how tightly clenched his fists were. Damn, maybe he could convince you to stay the night and see how far Pope would go.
"He's been glaring a hole into the side of your head for nearly five minutes," Deran was the first to speak up, bringing the bottle of beer up to his lips to take a long drink.
"I know, it's why I've been ignoring him the entire time," Craig would normally try and pull Pope into a conversation whenever you were around, but given how badly things had been between the two of you. It was better not to poke a sleeping bear.
Your head snapped up, looking up at Craig with a confused expression. What was he talking about exactly? There was no one at this party that were really looking your way besides a couple girls that were interested in Deran. As your eyes trailed along the backyard, taking in all the party goers, it suddenly became obvious who he meant.
Andrew was staring at you, gaze boring into you like he could attempt to read the thoughts racing through your mind. You wondered if he would see you differently if he were able, listening to the different ideas of how you could pin him to the couch and ride that monster of a-
"Hey, do you want any?" Craig was holding out a blunt, smoke gently billowing up towards your lips.
Shrugging you took it from his hand, pressing the end between your lips and taking a deep drag. Smoke filled your lungs, stinging the organ as you let the cloud slowly slip free from your open mouth. Andrew's eyes widened slightly, pupils dilating as he watched you with an intensity you'd only seen once before. The job had gone awry, his body pressing yours into the wall as you pretended to make out, the security guards running passed without a second glance. Andrew had pulled away with an apology, shrugging his shoulders back before heading back to meet up with his brothers.
You however were left completely desperate, heart racing behind your ribs as you watched him walk away. His ass had no right looking that delicious in those jeans, could bounce a damn quarter off him.
"Can I ask you guys something, and promise you won't make fun of me?" Why were you suddenly nervous to admit your feelings for their oldest brother? It wasn't like you were doing anything to hide it from them.
Deran nodded, putting all of his focus on you, Craig followed suit while taking the blunt from you. Damnit, maybe you should've taken a few more drags before laying your soul out in front of the two men. Well, here goes nothing.
"I'm in love with your brother," bandaid officially ripped off, everything out in the open.
Craig just stared at you as if you'd asked him about the weather, not admitting that you were in love with Andrew. Deran's lips curled in, eyes crinkling ever so gently at the sides as he snickered almost silently.
"Hey! Why're you laughing?!" Now you just felt embarrassed, was this how it felt to have older brothers?
"We've known for years, you're not subtle like at all," Deran wasn't afraid to speak his mind, especially when it came to you and Pope. "I've caught you staring at him lovingly more often than not."
Dread washed over you, if you truly were that obvious about your feelings that meant both Smurf and Baz knew how you'd felt. Everyone except for Andrew apparently.
"You haven't told him, right?" The thought of Andrew knowing how you felt and not wanting to hurt your feelings by rejecting you hurt more than anything.
Craig shook his head, assuring you that Pope was none the wiser to the feelings you had towards him. They'd make jokes like any normal siblings would, but this wasn't something that was theirs to tel.
"Good, that's good," you sighed, nervously rubbing your hands onto the fabric of your dress, grimacing when the sweat didn't seem to soak in.
Deran noticed Pope making his way over, hands still clenched into tight fists by his sides, veins prominent along his forearms. Your eyes were drawn to his skin, freckles shining in the light as he came to a stop before you.
"Hey," raspy, that was the best way you could describe how he sounded, as if he had just spent the last five minutes screaming.
"Hey," Craig swiftly pulled his arm off your shoulder, grabbing Deran before heading off to find other people to mingle with.
On one hand you were thankful to have some alone time with Andrew, on the other you wanted to strangle the two men for abandoning you. The last time you'd talked with Andrew, besides pleasantries, was the day you'd found out he was going on a date with Amy. The drive home had been eventful, anyone within a five foot radius had heard your angry singing. That was the last time you'd seen anyone, shutting yourself inside your apartment whenever you weren't working.
"How've you been?" The words were stiff on his lips, shoulders tense as if preparing himself for a fight.
"Fine, picked up some more shifts down at the diner," god, Andrew fucking hated the diner you worked at.
Most of the patrons were older men that could never keep their hands to themselves, and the cook was an idiot that didn't know his ass from his elbow. He still wondered why you even worked there considering Deran had offered you a job at the bar constantly.
"Why?"
Your eyes narrowed, why did he suddenly care so much about your work habits? Not like you'd seen each other in the last couple of months anyway.
"I have rent to pay, can't exactly do that without working," okay, maybe your tone was a smidge on the snarky side, but what else could you do?
Andrew rolled his eyes, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans to stop from clenching his fists even tighter.
"Deran offered you a job at the bar, why not work there?" He'd at least be able to keep an eye on you easier, make sure no creeps try and put their hands on you.
"I didn't want to make things awkward was all," you wouldn't mind working alongside Deran, he was pleasant to be around most days.
His brow raised in question, there was clearly more to you answer than what you were currently giving him. Working somewhere you despised just because it was easier than working alongside one of your closest friends?
"Awkward? You've been friends with Deran for years, I doubt it would be awkward," Pope knew better than to argue, at least with you.
Maybe you should just tell him how you felt, what was the harm in admitting to Andrew that you were desperately in love with him?
"Andrew," you swallowed nervously, heart racing as you took a step closer to him.
You could smell the faint scent of his cologne, and what you could only assume was the laundry detergent he used. He watched you with an intensity you'd only ever seen in movies, eyes glancing down to your lips before flicking back up. Licking your lower lip, coating the softness with saliva you pushed forward without thinking, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
Andrew froze, body stiff as he felt the plushness of your lips pressed against his own. Before you could second guess everything his arms quickly wrapped around your waist, fingers digging into your hips. If anyone else were to squeeze your body you would've pulled away, angry that they were touching parts that you hated. With Andrew everything felt different, his lips moved with an urgency, hands tightening against the fabric of your dress. You slid your hands to cup the back of his neck, one tangling in the soft curls.
On the other side of the backyard Craig slipped a fifty into Deran's hand, rolling his eyes that it was you to make the first move.
Andrew pressed your body tighter to his own, ignoring the pulse of arousal flowing through his blood like an addictive drug. He would happily kiss you until his lungs burned for air, and even then he'd die knowing it was you that led him to the afterlife.
Unfortunately as much as you would love nothing more than to kiss Andrew until you died from lack of oxygen, you'd much rather live to kiss him another day. His lips chased your own, trailing along the skin of your throat, nipping gently as you whined softly.
"Andrew," you gasped softly, fingers tightening in his curls.
"Mmm, love the way you taste," he would spend the rest of his days exploring your body, tasting every square inch while you writhed and moaned his name so beautifully.
"I'm sure you do," you laughed softly, pulling him away from your skin so you could look at him once more. "However, I'd rather not let these partygoers have anymore of a look at you."
His brow furrowed in confusion, frowning when you pulled away from him entirely, fingers lacing together as you slowly walked back towards the house.
"I'd much rather have some private time together," you squeezed his hand, smirking as the realization dawned on him.
Thankfully the music was loud enough to drown out the rather lewd sounds echoing from Andrew's room.
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summary: What starts as a simple night watching Lena turns into something far more dangerous when Baz leaves you at Smurf’s overnight. As Smurf slowly tightens her grip, quietly isolating you from the outside world, J is the only one who notices the pattern for what it really is and for the first time, he steps between you and his family. The night cracks open the fragile balance you’ve built with the Codys, exposing a darker, more volatile side of Pope Cody that leaves your relationship hanging by a thread and forces long-buried truths dangerously close to the surface. andrew ‘pope’ cody x f!reader / cw: SMURF WARNING NEOW!!!, we finally learn what reader is in school for, J is big in the plot for this, angstttttt, could be considered fluff, upset pope, angry!pope, possessive!pope, j plotting behind everyone’s back per usual, i don’t wanna say possessive/protective!j but yea…, pope talks about his feelings canon?, might be ooc pope for some of this, they kiss, kinda failed manipulation on reader, reader is starting to realize things, fighting, mentions of past traumatic relationships. word count: 9.9k amalia’s love note: nervous asf to share with you the direction i’m taking this story. i know people hate J, i get it but i think he’s severely underused in pope fics like, for how much pope dislikes him i think we’re missing out on a whole different level of angst. anyway here’s part three, was supposed to be shorter but i had the stomach bug so i lived in my DR which happens to be this story for like way too long and this was the result. Anyways buckle up next part is already written and ready to go which im calling the big pope update, oh y’all aren’t ready. added in a bonus little happy part at the end to make up for the next part. PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART
The back patio at Smurf’s was quiet for once. Not completely quiet. Nothing at that house ever really was. You could still hear the ocean somewhere in the distance, waves crashing softly beyond the neighborhoods lining the coast, the low hum of traffic drifting in from the street out front, Lena talking to herself inside while she colored at the kitchen table. But compared to the usual noise of the Cody house, the constant movement and shouting and slamming doors, it felt strangely still tonight. Warm. Heavy with summer air and chlorine and cigarette smoke lingering faintly over the pool.
You sat curled sideways on one of the lounge chairs wearing one of Deran’s sweatshirts over your shorts, your textbooks spread across your lap while you highlighted notes you already knew you probably wouldn’t remember later anyway. Every few minutes Lena would come barreling outside with another drawing clutched in her tiny hands, talking so fast half her words blurred together while you nodded seriously like each scribbled crayon masterpiece belonged in a museum before sending her back inside again with a dramatic gasp and a promise to hang it on the fridge later.
J sat near the edge of the pool with his feet propped beside the water, cigarette balanced loosely between his fingers as he stared out at nothing in particular. He’d been sitting there almost an hour without speaking much, shoulders hunched slightly forward, face unreadable in that way it always seemed to be. Which honestly wasn’t unusual for him.
J talked when he actually had something to say. Otherwise he mostly just watched people.
You’d gotten used to it.
“You’re doing the thing again,” you said absentmindedly, not looking up from your textbook as you highlighted another sentence.
“The thing?” he asked flatly.
“The depressed teenage staring thing.”
J snorted quietly under his breath.
“It’s unsettling,” you continued, flipping the page.
“You still sat out here with me.”
A smile pulled faintly at your mouth before you finally glanced up long enough to catch the corner of his mouth twitching slightly before he looked away again. A few months ago J barely acknowledged your existence unless he absolutely had to. Half the time you weren’t even sure he liked you. Now there was something quieter between you. Still cautious, but there.
The screen door slid open behind you before Smurf stepped outside carrying two glasses of wine balanced effortlessly in her hands.
“Well aren’t you two domestic,” she teased lightly.
You laughed softly. “Ah, I’m just studying.”
Smurf handed you a glass anyway. “And you need a break.”
The second she stepped outside, J’s expression changed. Barely. Tiny enough most people wouldn’t notice it. But you did now. He got quieter around her. More alert somehow. Like every word mattered more when she was near.
You accepted the wine mostly because refusing Smurf always felt strangely uncomfortable, like disappointing her carried more weight than it should.
Smurf sat gracefully beside you, eyes drifting toward the textbook resting across your thighs. “Still doing all this?”
You laughed quietly. “Unfortunately.”
“Baby, you spend more time studying than living your life.”
“It’s not that bad,” you shrugged lightly. “Almost done anyway. Just one year left.”
Smurf smiled warmly like you’d said something sweet instead of exhausting. “I just worry about you burning yourself out.”
J’s eyes flicked toward you briefly through the smoke curling from his cigarette.
You shrugged again. “I’m okay.”
“You know,” Smurf started casually, voice soft and easy, “there’s no shame in slowing down sometimes. Taking a little break.”
You missed the real meaning beneath the words at first. That was the thing with Smurf. She never pushed hard enough for you to notice it immediately. She nudged. Guided. Made suggestions that sounded caring enough to slip past your defenses before you realized they were changing something.
You looked back down at your notes. “I worked too hard to get into med school to just quit.”
“Oh honey, I didn’t say quit.” Smurf’s voice stayed gentle. “Temporary. One semester maybe. Give yourself time to breathe.”
You laughed lightly. “With what money?”
Smurf waved one manicured hand dismissively. “Family takes care of family.”
J looked down at the cigarette between his fingers.
Your stomach twisted slightly at the words.
Sometimes she sounded genuine. Not manipulative. Not cruel. Just warm. Caring in a way that hit somewhere painfully vulnerable after years of mostly taking care of yourself. You could understand why people let her in so easily.
You tried joking instead. “Pretty sure your sons already financially support me against my will.”
Smurf laughed softly. “And none of them mind doing it.”
J finally spoke. “That’s not the point.”
Smurf’s eyes slid toward him slowly.
You noticed immediately how the atmosphere shifted.
“Well aren’t you chatty tonight,” she said lightly.
J ignored her completely, looking at you instead. “You should finish school.”
You blinked slightly at how direct he sounded. J usually chose his words carefully around everyone in this house. You watched him turn back toward the pool again like the conversation was already over.
Smurf smiled patiently. “No one said she shouldn’t.”
“You keep bringing it up.”
The tension settled strangely across the patio now, heavy enough you could feel it pressing against your ribs.
You tried smoothing things over instinctively. “Guys, seriously, I’m not dropping out. I like school.”
“That’s good,” J said immediately.
Smurf leaned back in her chair slowly, studying him now instead of you. “You know, J, normal families usually encourage each other to slow down once in a while.”
“Normal families don’t need everyone dependent on them.”
Your eyes flicked between them quickly.
Smurf still looked calm. Perfectly calm.
Which somehow felt worse.
“Do you think that’s what I’m doing?” she asked softly.
J finally looked at her directly. “I know you are.”
Your chest tightened immediately.
Because suddenly it felt like you were standing in the middle of a conversation that had started years before you ever got here.
Smurf smiled again, thinner this time. “You always assume the worst about me.”
“No,” J said quietly. “Just know how you work.”
You swallowed awkwardly, suddenly very aware you were still holding the wine glass she handed you.
Smurf turned toward you instantly, warmth sliding back over her expression so seamlessly it almost gave you whiplash. “Don’t listen to him, baby. He thinks everybody’s trying to manipulate him.”
J laughed once under his breath.
You looked down at your textbook again, fingers fidgeting slightly against the corner of the page.
And J noticed. That was the part bothering him most. Not that Smurf was trying. That some of it was actually working.
Because you were lonely in ways you barely admitted out loud. Because you liked taking care of people. Because nobody had really taken care of you before this family. Because the Codys had a way of making dysfunction feel warm while it swallowed you whole.
He’d heard it before.
Not exactly like this. But close enough to make something cold settle in his stomach every time Smurf smiled at you too long.
You weren’t his mother. You weren’t fragile the same way people assumed. But there was something about the way you moved through this family, softening sharp edges without even realizing you were doing it, that made old instincts rise in him before he could stop them.
Smurf stood after another minute. “I’m gonna check on Lena.”
You nodded automatically. “Okay.”
The second she disappeared back inside, the patio fell quiet again.
J crushed his cigarette slowly against the concrete before standing and moving closer to where you sat. You looked up at him immediately, brows furrowing slightly.
“Are you alright?” you asked carefully.
He stayed quiet for a second too long before finally sitting in the chair beside you.
“You should be careful here,” he said.
Your eyebrows pulled together. “With what?”
“With her.”
You stared at him for a second. Not because of what he said.
Because of how serious he looked saying it.
“J-”
“I’m serious.”
“I know,” you said softly. “But I think Smurf likes me.”
“That’s not always a good thing.”
The words settled heavily in your chest.
You looked down at your wine glass before setting it carefully on the table beside you. “do you really think she’s trying to manipulate me?”
J leaned back slowly, jaw tightening slightly like he was deciding how much he should say.
“She makes people feel needed,” he said finally. “Special. Like they belong somewhere.” His eyes lifted briefly toward the house glowing warmly behind you. “Then one day you wake up and realize your whole life revolves around her.”
You tried laughing lightly. “I think you’re giving me too little credit.”
“I think you’re giving her too much.”
That shut you up. Because deep down there already was a small uncomfortable feeling growing inside you these last few weeks.
You hadn’t seen your college friends in days. Hadn’t answered half your texts. And none of it happened forcefully. That was the scary part. It happened naturally. Like water rising slowly around your ankles before you realized you were drowning.
J watched your expression carefully and could practically see the exact moment the realization landed. “You don’t have to stop seeing them,” he said quietly. “Just don’t let this become the only thing you have.”
Your chest tightened unexpectedly at that. Because nobody in this family really warned people about themselves.
They pulled people closer. But J was sitting here trying to hand you an exit before you even realized you might need one.
You looked at him for a long moment before asking softly, “Why do you care?”
J looked caught off guard by the question. Not offended. Just genuinely unsure how to answer it.
Finally he shrugged once. “You’re good to Lena.”
You smiled faintly. “That’s your answer?”
“It’s part of it.”
“And the other part?”
His eyes flicked toward you briefly before away again. “You’re not stupid.”
“That feels a little backhanded.”
“It’s not.” His voice stayed quiet. Honest. “You see people for who they are and stay anyway.”
Your chest hurt a little hearing that.
Because you weren’t entirely sure anymore whether that was a strength or a flaw.
Inside the house Lena suddenly yelled your name excitedly followed by something crashing loudly onto the floor.
You sighed immediately, standing up. “Oh god.”
J smiled slightly for the first time all night as you hurried toward the house.
And watching you disappear inside, hearing you immediately comfort Lena before laughing softly at whatever mess she’d made, something settled heavily in his chest.
Smurf left not long after that. You heard the familiar click of her heels crossing the kitchen tile while you helped Lena scrub crayon marks off the coffee table with baby wipes. A minute later she appeared in the doorway already holding her purse and keys, perfectly put together like she always was, not a single strand of blonde hair out of place.
“Baz called,” she said casually. “Gonna be out a while.”
J barely looked up from where he sat at the counter, lazily spinning a half-empty glass between his fingers.
You nodded. “Okay.”
Smurf’s eyes drifted over the three of you for a second, something thoughtful moving quietly through her expression as she took in Lena curled against your side while you now wiped marker off her sticky fingers with practiced patience. “You’d make a good mother someday,” Smurf said lightly.
The comment caught you off guard enough that you laughed awkwardly. “Oh um, thanks I guess.”
“It’s a compliment, baby.”
You smiled politely.
Across the kitchen J’s jaw tightened slightly, subtle enough most people wouldn’t notice it. You did.
Smurf leaned down to kiss the top of Lena’s head before smoothing one manicured hand over your shoulder as she passed. “Don’t stay up too late.”
Then she was gone.
And somehow the entire house felt lighter the second the front door shut behind her.
Not tense exactly. Just… easier to breathe in.
Lena immediately looked up at you with wide hopeful eyes. “Can we make mac and cheese?”
You laughed softly. “Is that what you want for dinner?”
“And dinosaur nuggets.”
“A true icon,” you said, fixing the mess of hair sticking out around her ponytail.
J snorted quietly into his drink.
You pointed toward him accusingly. “No judgment from the man who ate stale cereal for dinner yesterday.”
J looked mildly offended. “At least there was milk.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
Lena giggled loudly at that before grabbing your hand dramatically and dragging you toward the kitchen like she was rescuing you from starvation instead of asking for processed cheese and chicken shaped like prehistoric animals. You let her.
J stayed at the counter while you cooked, mostly quiet while Lena “helped,” which really just meant handing you ingredients wrong and stealing shredded cheese every time your back was turned.
It felt domestic in a way that should’ve been strange considering the setting.
The Cody house wasn’t built for softness. Everything about it carried too much history, too many loud voices and slammed doors and conversations that stopped the second someone unfamiliar walked into the room.
And yet somehow there you were standing barefoot at the stove stirring pasta while Lena sat cross-legged on the counter braiding pieces of your hair with serious concentration and J watched the two of you quietly from across the kitchen like he still hadn’t fully decided what to make of either of you.
“You’re burning the nuggets,” J said suddenly.
You gasped dramatically. “Why would you let me do that?”
“You seemed pretty confident.”
“You’re supposed to protect me from myself.”
“You’ll survive.”
You narrowed your eyes at him before dramatically flipping the nuggets over. Lena laughed so hard she nearly fell sideways off the counter. And J smiled.
It was getting easier now, talking to him. Reading him. You were starting to realize J wasn’t actually cold the way people assumed he was. But underneath all of that was someone observant and strangely gentle in ways he probably didn’t even realize showed on his face when he relaxed enough.
You plated Lena’s food first before setting a second plate in front of J. He stared down at it briefly. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
“It’s frozen dinosaur nuggets, J, not a marriage proposal.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
You looked at him then.
Really looked at him.
At the way his shoulders stayed tense even sitting down. At how uncomfortable he seemed with simple kindness sometimes, like he still didn’t fully know what to do when somebody offered him something without expecting something back in return.
Your chest ached a little at the sight of it.
“Well,” you said softer now, “I wanted to.”
J looked down at the plate quietly after that.
Lena talked enough for all three of you combined during dinner anyway, mostly rambling about cartoons and unicorns and how one of the girls at school said a bad word during recess and got in trouble for it.
You listened to every bit of it seriously.
J noticed that too. The way you paid attention fully when people spoke to you. Even kids. Even him.
Most people in this family interrupted each other constantly. Talked over each other. Took up space aggressively like conversations were competitions somebody needed to win. You made space instead.
And it was different enough that J still didn’t entirely know what to do with it.
After dinner Lena eventually wandered off toward the living room to watch TV, leaving you and J alone at the kitchen table surrounded by empty plates and half-finished drinks.
You started absentmindedly cleaning while J watched you for a second before speaking.
“I can do that,” he said, already starting to stand.
“No, let me J, just relax,” you said, tapping his shoulder lightly as you passed him.
J sat back down slowly, eyes following you around the kitchen like he was trying to figure something out. You grabbed Lena’s swimsuit from earlier off the back of a chair before turning toward him.
“Do you have clothes you need washed?”
“You don’t have to do that.” J stood up, taking the swimsuit gently from your hands before tossing it down the hallway toward the laundry room. “Do you always try to take care of everyone?”
You shrugged lightly. “Someone’s gotta.”
“Why you?”
The question made you pause for a second.
You turned the sink on, rinsing a plate slowly beneath the warm water before answering. “I dunno.” You smiled faintly to yourself. “Guess when you grow up around unstable people you get good at figuring out what everybody needs before they ask for it.”
J sat back down quietly after that. Because that answer hit a little too close to home.
“Do you ever get tired of it?” he asked.
“All the time.”
“Then why keep doing it?”
You looked over at him then, water dripping from your fingertips into the sink. “Because I know what it feels like when nobody does.”
The kitchen went quiet after that. J looked away first. Because there it was again. That awful painful familiarity blooming in his chest so hard it almost made him feel sick sometimes. Enough that talking to you occasionally felt like staring at a version of what his mother could’ve been if somebody had protected her before this family swallowed her whole.
You dried your hands on a towel before finally sitting across from him. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“What do you wanna do?”
J frowned slightly. “With what?”
“Your life.”
He looked genuinely caught off guard by the question, like nobody had ever actually asked him before. Or maybe nobody cared about the answer because everyone already assumed he’d spend the rest of his life exactly where he was now.
“I don’t know,” he admitted after a second.
“You’re smart.”
He scoffed softly. “Thanks.”
“I’m serious. Like scary smart.” You pointed at him across the table. “You observe everything. It’s weird.”
“Good weird or Pope weird?”
“Haven’t decided yet.”
The corner of his mouth twitched faintly at that. You leaned back slightly in your chair. “You could literally do anything if you wanted.”
J stared down at the table for a moment before speaking quietly. “I think I just want enough money that nobody can control me anymore.”
The honesty in the answer surprised you. Not because it sounded shallow.
Because it didn’t.
You could hear exactly how deeply he meant it.
Your expression softened immediately. “That’s a pretty fair goal. But I think you’re resilient enough to achieve that without money.”
“Yeah well, most people want careers,” J muttered. “Thought about going to business school.”
“Careers are scams if you don’t love what you do.”
That got an actual laugh out of him. Small, but genuine enough that it made you smile too.
J shook his head slightly. “What about you?”
“I wanna be a doctor.”
“You’ve said that before. What kind?”
“No I know, but like…” You tucked one leg beneath yourself in the chair. “A real one. A good one.”
“You will be.”
You smiled faintly. “You don’t even know if I’m smart.”
“You are.”
“You say that with a lot of confidence.”
J shrugged slightly. “You pay attention to people.”
“What does that have to do with being a doctor?”
“I’m pretty sure everything.”
The answer settled warmly somewhere deep in your chest.
Because somehow J always noticed things nobody else did.
Your eyes drifted toward the living room where Lena had apparently fallen asleep sideways on the couch halfway through the movie still playing quietly on the television.
“Oh my god,” you whispered. “That cannot be comfortable.”
You got up immediately to grab her blanket.
J watched silently while you tucked Lena in carefully, brushing hair away from her face before lowering the TV volume.
The whole thing felt painfully natural. Like you belonged there. And that realization scared J more than he wanted to admit, because the family was already starting to revolve around you in little ways.
Deran trusted you completely. Craig adored you. Pope… J cut the thought off immediately, a sour feeling twisting low in his stomach at the idea of his uncle with you. And now Lena looked for you every time you walked into a room.
You came back into the kitchen quietly after making sure she was asleep. J was still watching you.
“What?” you asked softly.
“Nothing.”
“You’re doing the staring thing again.”
J looked down, hiding the faintest smile into his drink.
You leaned comfortably against the counter beside him. “You know, you’re not as scary as you think you are.”
“I’m not trying to be scary.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
He looked at you for a second before speaking quietly. “I need to tell you-”
The front door suddenly shoved open hard enough to rattle the frame.
Pope came barreling inside.
His eyes landed on J first before immediately moving toward you, and you could’ve sworn something darker flashed across his face the second he saw the two of you alone together in the kitchen.
“Where’s Smurf?” Pope asked, voice low in a way you’d never heard before.
You opened your mouth to answer.
“With Baz,” J answered before you could.
Pope scoffed but didn’t say anything else about it. “What are you two doing?”
You smiled lightly at him. “J was just helping me watch Lena.”
“Why were you watching Lena?” he asked, confused.
“Oh I don’t really know,” you shrugged. “Baz called me.”
Pope came closer.
J watched him like a hawk.
You couldn’t tell, but J could. Pope was in one of his moods. One of those moods that made the entire family instinctively put space between themselves and him because nobody knew what might set him off once he got like this.
“Baz called you…” Pope repeated slowly. “Why the fuck does Baz have your number?”
His voice raised slightly on the last part.
You went stunned silent.
J stood immediately. “Calm down Pope, Deran gave it to him.”
Maybe it was the years of abuse you’d endured from past relationships or maybe it was just something inside you wired wrong, something that made you immediately feel like you needed to smooth things over the second a man got angry.
Like you needed to apologize for things that weren’t your fault.
You got up quickly and walked toward Pope despite the way J subtly tried to stop you. Pope noticed that too, and somehow it only made something darker flicker across his face.
You didn’t know that Pope disliked his nephew as much as he did.
Pope’s entire body looked wound too tight the second you got close enough to touch him. Up close, you could see the tension radiating off him in waves. His chest rose too fast beneath the thin gray shirt stretched across him, jaw clenched hard enough to twitch every few seconds, eyes dark and unfocused in that way they got when too many things were happening inside his head at once. He smelled like sweat, motor oil, and outside air, like he’d been pacing somewhere for hours before finally coming back here.
And suddenly every instinct inside you shifted.
The teasing softness from earlier disappeared beneath something older. Sharper. That awful familiar need to smooth things over before they got worse. The kind you learned growing up around angry men and unpredictable moods. The kind that taught you how to read tension before it exploded.
“Andrew,” you said quietly, reaching for his arm.
The second your hand touched him, Pope’s expression changed.
Not softer. Just… less volatile.
J saw it instantly. Saw the way Pope’s shoulders loosened by barely half an inch. Saw the subtle shift in his breathing. Saw the way your voice dropped automatically when you spoke to him, quieter and gentler without you even realizing it. Too familiar. Too instinctive. Like this wasn’t the first time he’d let you touch him.
And then it clicked.
Pope hated being touched.
J’s eyes narrowed slightly as he looked between the two of you.
Pope looked at you like a starving dog looked at food. Possessive. Desperate. Angry that someone else had touched what was his.
And you moved toward him instead of away like everyone else would.
“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” J muttered under his breath.
Your eyes flicked toward him immediately.
Pope’s head snapped around. “What?”
J laughed once, humorless, leaning back against the counter. “Nothing.”
“J,” you warned quietly.
That did it. Pope looked between both of you slowly now, suspicion beginning to crawl across his face like something alive. Like the two of you were hiding something from him. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Means I’m not blind.”
You stepped back from Pope immediately, panic flashing across your face so fast it made something ugly twist in his chest.
“J-”
“No, seriously,” J cut you off, staring directly at Pope now. “You come in here acting psychotic because Baz called her? She’s not your property, dude.”
Pope took a step forward instantly. “Watch your mouth.”
“And you should probably stop glaring at every man that talks to her if you’re trying to keep it secret.”
Your stomach dropped so fast it made you feel sick. Pope looked at you then. Not J. You.
And somehow that felt worse. Because the anger on his face shifted into hurt so fast it nearly knocked the air out of your lungs.
“You told him?”
“No,” you said immediately. “I didn’t.”
J scoffed quietly. “She didn’t have to.”
Pope stared at you for another long second before looking away sharply, dragging a hand over his mouth like he was trying to physically contain himself. Agitated. Cornered. You could practically see his thoughts spiraling too fast inside his head.
And then he laughed. Low and disbelieving and completely humorless.
“All this hiding shit is fucking stupid anyway.”
Your chest tightened immediately. “Andr-”
“No.” He looked back at you, eyes sharp now. “Why can’t they know?”
J went completely still.
You stared at Pope like he’d just spoken another language. “What?”
“Why can’t they know?” he repeated, louder this time. “What’s the problem?”
Your mouth opened slightly, but nothing came out.
Because how were you even supposed to answer that?
Where did you even start?
With the fact that his family was terrifying?
With the fact that every single thing inside that house came with strings attached?
With the fact that you were already losing pieces of yourself without even realizing it?
Or with the simplest truth of all:
You knew more than they thought you did.
Not specifics.
Not details.
But enough. Enough cash left laying around. Enough late-night conversations cut off the second you walked into rooms. Enough bruised knuckles and bloody shirts and “jobs” nobody explained.
You weren’t stupid. And dating Pope Cody openly felt like stepping into something permanent. Something dangerous.
“You don’t understand,” you said finally, voice quieter now.
Pope’s face hardened instantly. “Then explain it to me.”
You glanced toward Lena asleep in the other room before lowering your voice further. “Not right now.”
“No. Right now.” His voice sharpened immediately. “Cause I’m getting real tired of feeling like some fucking secret you’re ashamed of.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Then what is it?”
J pushed off the counter slowly. “Maybe you two should-”
“Stay out of it,” Pope snapped immediately.
J’s expression darkened. “Yeah? Maybe stop having screaming matches with Lena in the other room then.”
Your stomach twisted painfully.
“Andy,” you said softly again, trying to calm him down before this got worse. “Please.”
But Pope was too far gone now.
He wasn’t your Andy right now.
No, he was Pope.
“You let Deran touch you all over the place,” he said suddenly. “Sit on him, wear his clothes, sleep at his house-”
“Jesus Christ,” J muttered.
“And nobody cares,” Pope continued, eyes locked on yours now with terrifying intensity. “But me? I gotta pretend I don’t touch you at all?”
Your face burned instantly. “Keep your voice down.”
“Why?”
“Because not everybody needs to know my business!”
“Your business?” Pope repeated, genuinely angry now. “That’s what I am?”
“No, that’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
You rubbed both hands over your face hard enough to hurt. “I mean this family is intense!”
The room went silent.
Even Pope looked slightly caught off guard by that.
You laughed nervously after a second, but there wasn’t any humor in it. “You guys are all in each other’s pockets twenty-four seven. Nobody has boundaries. Nobody talks about anything real until they’re screaming at each other.”
Pope stared at you.
J stayed very still.
“And I like you,” you admitted finally, voice cracking slightly around the words. “More than I should probably. But every time I get close to anyone other than Deran in this family, I feel like I’m getting swallowed whole.”
Pope looked almost offended by that. Like the idea had genuinely never occurred to him. “You think I’d let something happen to you?”
“That’s not the point!”
“Then what is the point?”
“The point is you keep secrets from me!” you snapped finally, months of frustration rising all at once now. “Everybody does!”
Pope’s jaw flexed hard.
“You disappear for hours. Days. You come home angry and covered in blood sometimes and expect me not to ask questions because apparently asking questions is dangerous around here.” Your breathing shook now too. “I don’t ask about your jobs. I don’t ask about the money. I don’t ask why everybody acts weird all the time because I know better at this point, Andrew. I’m not fucking naive.”
Pope looked stunned silent.
“And meanwhile you wanna stand here asking why I don’t wanna announce to the entire world that I’m sleeping with you?”
The second the words left your mouth, the kitchen went dead quiet.
J closed his eyes briefly like there it was. Confirmation.
Pope just stared at you. Hurt bleeding into anger all over again so fast it was almost dizzying to watch.
“You make it sound disgusting.”
“Oh my god,” you whispered incredulously. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Sure sounds like it.”
“You know that’s not what I mean!”
“Then what do you mean?” he demanded, stepping closer again. “Cause I’m real fucking confused right now.”
You felt yourself shutting down.
That was the worst part.
Not the yelling.
The feeling underneath it.
That old trapped feeling crawling up your spine. The one that made your chest tight and your hands cold and your brain start scrambling for the fastest way to end the conflict before somebody exploded.
You hated that feeling.
Hated that you still had it.
“I can’t do this right now,” you said quietly.
Pope scoffed. “Yeah, okay.”
“I mean it.”
“No, you just don’t wanna deal with it.”
You stared at him for another long second before finally shaking your head once.
Then you turned around and walked away.
“Where the fuck are you going?” Pope called after you.
“To bed.”
“You’re seriously just walking away?”
You stopped in the hallway, shoulders tightening. “I don’t wanna fight with you anymore.”
“Too late.”
The words hit harder than they should have.
You swallowed thickly before disappearing into Lena’s room without another word.
The door clicked shut softly behind you.
Silence filled the house after that.
J leaned against the counter, staring at the hallway for a long moment before finally looking at Pope. “You really fucked that up.”
Pope looked murderous. “Shut up.”
“No, seriously.” J shook his head slowly. “She’s terrified of this family and you just proved her right.”
Pope moved suddenly, slamming his keys down onto the counter so violently they clattered loudly against the marble.
“You don’t know shit.”
J laughed bitterly. “I know enough.”
Pope looked like he wanted to hit him.
Instead he stormed out the back door.
The house stayed quiet for hours after that.
Not the normal kind of quiet either. Not the comfortable silence that sometimes settled over the Cody house late at night after everybody finally disappeared into separate rooms. This silence felt bruised. Heavy. Like the entire house had absorbed the fight and was still holding onto the echo of it.
You hadn’t meant to fall asleep in Lena’s room. Honestly, you’d only sat down in the armchair tucked into the corner because your legs felt shaky beneath you by the time you got her settled. You’d tucked the blanket tighter around Lena where she slept sprawled across the little twin bed, one arm hanging off the mattress and curls covering half her face, before sinking back into the chair with your head against the wall.
You’d told yourself you were just resting for a minute.
Just until your breathing slowed down.
Just until your chest stopped hurting.
But exhaustion had dragged you under before you even realized your eyes were closing. The room was dark when you stirred again.
Pitch black except for the dim amber glow of the hallway light bleeding through the cracked doorway. For a second you didn’t move at all, your brain still fogged with sleep and disorientation.
Then your stomach dropped.
Someone else was in the room.
You felt it before you fully saw him.
That strange instinct people developed around Pope after enough time spent near him. The awareness of his presence even when he wasn’t speaking. Even when he wasn’t moving. Like your body recognized him before your mind could catch up.
Your eyes adjusted slowly to the dark.
And there he was.
Sitting on the floor beside Lena’s bed.
Watching.
Your heart nearly stopped before settling again almost immediately afterward, relief and irritation crashing together so fast it made your chest ache.
“Jesus Christ,” you whispered hoarsely, hand pressing against your sternum.
Pope didn’t answer right away.
He sat with his forearms resting across his knees, broad shoulders hunched slightly forward, face half-hidden in shadow as he looked over at you. Quiet now. Calm in that eerie sort of way he got after burning through all his anger. Like whatever storm had ripped through him earlier had finally exhausted itself.
“How long have you been there?” you asked softly.
“A while.”
Of course he had.
You rubbed tiredly at your face, sleep still clinging to you heavy and disorienting. “That’s so creepy.”
“I know.”
The blunt honesty of it almost made you laugh. Neither of you spoke for a while after that.
Lena shifted slightly in her sleep between you both, mumbling something incoherent into her pillow before settling again. Pope’s eyes tracked the movement automatically, instinctively, his attention softening for half a second before drifting back toward you.
Then finally, quietly: “Do you really think I’d hurt you?”
The question settled heavily into the room.
Not defensive. Not angry. Worse. Honest.
Your chest tightened painfully. “No.”
Pope looked at you for another long second like he was trying to decide whether he believed that answer or not.
“Then why hide this?”
You looked down at your hands folded tightly in your lap. Your fingers were cold.
“Because caring about you feels dangerous sometimes.”
The words came out quieter than you meant them to.
More honest too.
You didn’t elaborate. Didn’t explain the way Smurf looked at you the first few times Pope couldn’t stop touching you when everybody was together. The subtle shifts in her expression whenever his attention lingered too long on you. The smiles that never quite reached her eyes.
Those looks had said enough on their own.
Like she could tolerate you around the family.
But not like this.
Not as something capable of pulling Andrew away from her.
Pope went completely still.
Not angry this time.
Not volatile.
Wounded.
And suddenly guilt twisted painfully through your chest because you knew how hard this was for him. You knew Pope didn’t ask for things lightly. Didn’t want things openly unless they mattered enough to terrify him first.
And you mattered.
That was the problem.
You could see it every time he looked at you.
You could feel it in the way he hovered near you even when he was angry. In the way his moods sharpened whenever somebody else touched you too casually. In the way he said your name like it physically hurt him sometimes.
But you were scared.
Not of him exactly.
Of what loving somebody like him would eventually turn your life into.
Pope stared at the floor for a long moment before speaking again, voice quieter now. “You think I’m dangerous.”
“No,” you said immediately, because that part wasn’t true. “I think your life is.”
Something flickered across his face at that. Small. Barely visible in the dark. But enough.
You swallowed hard before continuing carefully. “I don’t ask questions, Andy.”
“I know.”
“I don’t ask where you go. I don’t ask what happened when you come home bleeding. I don’t ask why everybody in this family acts like there’s constantly a gun pressed against the back of their heads.” Your voice weakened slightly. “I don’t ask because I know there are answers I probably don’t wanna hear.”
Pope looked down again.
And that silence told you enough all by itself.
Your stomach twisted.
Because there it was.
Confirmation without words.
“You should ask,” he said finally.
You blinked at him. “What?”
“You should ask me things.”
The vulnerability in that nearly hurt worse than the yelling from earlier.
Because Pope sounded serious.
Like he genuinely wanted you to know him.
And maybe that should’ve made you feel better.
Instead it terrified you.
“You say that now,” you whispered. “But every time I get close to understanding something around here everybody gets weird.”
Pope frowned slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
You laughed once softly, tired more than amused. “It means your family acts like secrets are some form of currency.”
“That’s just how things are.”
“Exactly.”
Silence stretched between you again.
Outside, somewhere far off in the distance, waves crashed faintly against the shoreline. The sound drifted through the cracked bedroom window soft enough that it almost didn’t feel real.
Pope finally stood slowly from the floor.
The movement made you tense instinctively before you could stop yourself.
And he noticed.
Of course he did.
That hurt expression crossed his face again so quickly you almost missed it.
“I’m not gonna do anything,” he muttered.
“I know.”
But your body had already betrayed you.
Pope stared at you another second before moving closer anyway, crouching down beside the chair instead of towering over you this time. The difference felt intentional. Like he was trying not to overwhelm you even now.
His eyes looked exhausted up close.
Bloodshot.
Too intense.
“You know what the worst part is?” he asked quietly.
You shook your head once.
“I don’t even care that J knows.”
Your eyebrows furrowed slightly.
“I care that you think I’m something you need to hide from everybody.”
Your chest ached immediately. “Andy—”
“No.” He shook his head sharply. “That’s what this is.”
“It’s not.”
“Then what is it?”
You looked at him helplessly because you didn’t know how to explain something that complicated without hurting him worse.
How could you possibly tell him that being loved by Pope Cody felt like standing too close to the ocean during a storm?
Beautiful.
Powerful.
And one wrong step away from drowning.
You reached for him before you could overthink it, fingers brushing lightly against his wrist.
Pope went quiet instantly at the contact.
“You’re not something I’m ashamed of,” you whispered.
His jaw flexed hard.
“But I think if this becomes real to everyone else… then everything changes.”
“It already changed.”
The certainty in his voice made your throat tighten.
Because he was right.
It had already changed.
The moment you started waiting for him to come home.
The moment he started sleeping better beside you.
The moment you realized you could tell the difference between Andrew and Pope just by the way he looked at you.
You felt tears sting unexpectedly behind your eyes from pure exhaustion more than anything else.
“I don’t know how to do this,” you admitted quietly.
Pope stared at you for a long moment after that.
Then, carefully, like he thought you might disappear if he moved too fast, he reached up and pushed a strand of hair back away from your face.
The gesture was strangely gentle coming from him.
Almost shy.
“You don’t gotta know,” he said softly.
And somehow that made it worse.
Because for the first time all night, he sounded less like Pope Cody and more like a man standing in the middle of something he didn’t fully understand either.
The next morning came slow and gray, the kind of heavy overcast morning that made the entire Cody house feel underwater. Ocean fog hung low beyond the backyard, thick enough that the pool disappeared into it after only a few feet, and the damp salt air crept through the cracked kitchen windows. Somewhere deeper in the house old pipes groaned softly inside the walls, and the refrigerator hummed loud enough in the silence to become irritating.
Pope sat alone at the kitchen island with a cup of coffee he hadn’t touched once.
He’d been awake for hours.
Not doing anything. Not moving much. Just sitting there replaying the night before over and over until every thought blurred together into one ugly restless feeling crawling beneath his skin.
You and J sitting together at the kitchen table.
Your hand touching J’s shoulder like it was natural.
J looking at him like he knew something.
You pulling away from Pope in front of him.
You refusing to let anybody know about the two of you.
Then Deran.
Always fucking Deran.
The way you fit into Deran’s life had started eating at Pope in ways he hated admitting even to himself. How easily you moved around him. Wearing his sweatshirts. Sleeping at his condo. Sitting in his lap without thinking about it. Laughing with him in that loose effortless way people only laughed when they felt safe.
Pope knew Deran wasn’t sleeping with you.
But somehow that almost made it worse.
Because whatever existed between you and Deran looked easy. Uncomplicated. Real in a way Pope didn’t know how to be. Deran never had to fight himself just to touch people gently. Never looked at you like he was terrified you’d disappear the second he loosened his grip.
And now J knew too.
That alone had been enough to crack something ugly open inside him last night.
The back door slid open.
Smurf walked in carrying a grocery bag in one hand and an iced coffee in the other, sunglasses still perched on her face despite the early hour. Her eyes moved over Pope once and immediately took inventory of everything she needed to know. The untouched coffee. The rigid posture. The dark circles beneath his eyes. The fact he looked like he’d either been awake all night or close to putting his fist through a wall.
“Well,” she said lightly, setting the grocery bag on the counter, “you look awful.”
Pope didn’t answer.
Smurf started unpacking groceries slowly and methodically, movements calm and unhurried. She never rushed with Pope when he got like this. Years of handling him had taught her patience worked better than pressure. Push too hard and he exploded. Let him sit in it long enough and eventually he came to her on his own.
Sure enough, after another minute, Pope finally spoke without looking up.
“You said she was hiding something.”
Smurf glanced over her shoulder calmly. “Maybe she is.”
“She’s not.”
“Pope,” Smurf sighed softly, like she hated even having the conversation, “you barely know her.”
His jaw tightened immediately.
That sentence again.
You barely know her.
Smurf had been feeding him versions of it for weeks now. Never direct enough for him to fully accuse her of anything. Just tiny comments slipped carefully into conversations whenever your name came up.
Sweet girl.
Too sweet maybe.
Girls like that panic when things get ugly. They talk.
She asks a lot of questions for somebody who claims she doesn’t care.
What happens when she gets scared?
Never accusations.
Never outright.
Smurf was smarter than that.
She planted doubt the same way roots cracked concrete, slowly, quietly, until one day the damage was already done.
“I went through her stuff,” Pope admitted flatly.
Smurf’s hands paused only briefly over a carton of eggs before continuing again. “And?”
Pope rubbed a hand over his mouth slowly, exhaustion sitting heavy in every movement now.
He remembered breaking into Deran’s condo sometime after two in the morning, adrenaline making his heart beat too hard beneath his ribs while he tore through your things convincing himself it was necessary.
Protecting the family.
That was always the justification in the end.
Protecting the family.
He remembered opening drawers harder than he meant to. Digging through backpacks. Flipping through notebooks and textbooks and receipts. Standing in Deran’s guest room holding one of your hoodies in his hands while feeling insane for even being there.
Then your laptop.
He’d opened it expecting something.
Emails.
Messages.
Evidence.
Anything that proved Smurf right. Something showing you’d talked to somebody. That you knew more than you should. That you’d been asking questions in the wrong places.
Instead he found old med school applications. Flashcards covered in anatomy notes. Study schedules color-coded so neatly it made his chest ache for reasons he didn’t understand. A playlist titled “crying screaming throwing up.” Grocery lists. Random pictures of Lena asleep on the couch. One blurry photo of Deran flipping off the camera.
Normal.
Painfully fucking normal.
“She’s exactly who she says she is,” he muttered finally.
Smurf leaned one hip against the counter. “That doesn’t mean she won’t be dangerous later on.”
Pope’s eyes lifted toward her immediately.
There it was again.
Dangerous.
Smurf used the word carefully every single time. Never emotionally. Never dramatically. Always calm. Like it was simple fact instead of manipulation.
“She’s not dangerous.”
“No?” Smurf asked softly. “Then why aren’t you and Deran telling her what this family really is?”
Pope looked away.
“Why are you lying to everyone?” Smurf continued gently. “Sneaking around. Getting territorial.” She tilted her head slightly. “You think people haven’t noticed?”
Pope’s jaw flexed hard.
Because that part was true.
Everything with you had started bleeding into everything else whether he wanted it to or not.
Into his moods.
Into the way he reacted to people.
Into the constant tension sitting beneath his skin now.
Last night had proved that better than anything.
Smurf watched him carefully for another second before speaking again, voice softening into something almost maternal.
“You know what your problem is, baby?”
Pope stayed quiet.
“You attach too hard.”
The words settled heavily into the kitchen.
“You decide somebody belongs to you and suddenly you stop thinking clearly.” Smurf unpacked another grocery bag while she spoke, casual enough that somebody listening from another room might’ve mistaken the conversation for ordinary. “That’s always been your weakness.”
Pope stared at the marble countertop in silence.
Because she wasn’t entirely wrong.
That was what made Smurf dangerous.
She rarely lied outright.
She twisted truth until it became something useful to her.
“She doesn’t belong to me,” he muttered.
Smurf smiled faintly at that. “Doesn’t she?”
Pope didn’t answer.
Didn’t have to.
Smurf could read him better than anyone alive. She saw the obsession settling into him already. The possessiveness. The way his moods shifted depending on whether or not you were near him. The way the entire house felt different now when you walked into it.
And Smurf knew exactly what obsessive love turned into when it stayed inside Pope long enough.
Fear.
Then paranoia.
Then violence.
It had happened before.
It could happen again.
“You know what scares me?” Smurf asked quietly.
Pope finally looked up at her.
“That she’s pulling you away from us.”
Immediate denial rose inside him.
But then, You telling him the family was too intense.
You saying you felt swallowed whole.
You refusing to let anybody know about the two of you.
Tiny things.
Reasonable things.
But stacked together after weeks of Smurf whispering poison into the cracks of his mind, they started sounding different now. Sharper. More dangerous than they probably were.
“She’s not,” he said anyway.
Smurf hummed softly like she didn’t quite believe him.
“She’s got Deran wrapped around her finger already,” Smurf continued casually, turning back toward the counter. “Craig adores her. J’s defending her now too apparently.” A pause. “Funny how fast that happened.”
Pope’s shoulders stiffened almost immediately.
Smurf noticed.
Of course she noticed.
“She’s not doing anything,” Pope said again, but there was less certainty in it this time.
“She may not even realize she’s doing it.” Smurf shrugged lightly. “Some women are just like that.”
Pope rubbed both hands over his face roughly.
He hated this feeling.
Hated that part of him knew exactly what Smurf was doing.
But another part, the older part she built herself, couldn’t fully dismiss it either.
Because he had changed since you.
More reactive.
More distracted.
More unstable.
Last night proved that.
And once an idea got lodged inside Pope’s head, it stayed there. Rotting quietly no matter how hard he tried to kill it.
Smurf walked over slowly then, resting a hand briefly against his shoulder.
“I’m just trying to protect you, baby.”
Pope stayed very still beneath her touch.
The terrifying thing about Smurf was that she genuinely believed that.
In her own warped way, this was love.
Twisting people into whatever kept the family intact.
Even if it destroyed them in the process.
“She cares about me,” Pope said finally, quieter now.
Smurf’s expression softened almost sympathetically.
“I know,” she said gently.
Then after a long enough pause to matter:
“And if she gets scared enough, she could destroy everything.”
Pope’s eyes flicked toward her again.
Smurf sighed softly, like the thought itself upset her. “People panic, Andrew. Especially girls like her. Sweet girls. Normal girls.” Her fingers tapped lightly against the countertop. “One mistake. One bad night. One conversation with the wrong person…”
Pope’s jaw tightened.
“She wouldn’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“She wouldn’t,” he repeated harder.
Smurf nodded slowly like she was humoring him. “Maybe not intentionally.” She looked down at the groceries for another second before adding quietly, “But loose ends become problems eventually. You know that.”
Something cold slid down Pope’s spine.
Loose ends.
Problems.
The words themselves weren’t violent.
Smurf never made them violent.
That was how she worked.
She planted the idea and let Pope’s mind finish building it on its own.
Smurf finally looked back at him, voice quieter now. Softer.
“And the only way somebody can never talk…” she said carefully, “is if they aren’t around to do it.”
Silence swallowed the kitchen.
Pope went completely still.
Not because he’d never heard her imply something like that before.
Because he had.
Too many times.
Cath flashed through his mind so fast it made his stomach twist violently.
Smurf telling him she was dangerous.
That she’d ruin everything.
That there was no other option.
Pope swallowed hard enough to hurt.
And the worst part, the absolute worst fucking part, was that even after knowing Smurf manipulated him before, even after understanding what she’d turned him into that night with Cath, some broken poisoned part of his brain still listened when she spoke.
Still absorbed it.
Still let the fear settle into him anyway.
“She’s not a problem,” Pope said finally, but the words sounded thinner now. Less solid.
Smurf smiled sadly like he’d missed the point entirely.
“I hope not, baby.” She picked up her coffee again. “I really do.”
Then she walked away, leaving the poison sitting there inside him, festering quietly in the dark exactly the way she intended.
BONUS!
“Thank you guys for helping me.” you smiled at Deran, craig and J as they unloaded boxes into your new apartment.
“No sweat off my back beautiful.” craig said rubbing his hands together “Got any beer.”
you smile “For you? of course” you grinned brightly opening the fridge. “J can you drink?” you asked looking over your shoulder.
“He’s underage not senile.” Craig shouted “Give the boy a drink.”
“I’m good.” J smiled lightly at you. His smiles were becoming a common occurrence whenever you were around.
You handed Deran and craig beers and leave one on the table.
“Are you finally joining us in a celebratory drink bambi?” Deran asked, mostly happy that you’d found your own place. Not that he’d hated you living with him. He loved it, but it was hard when adrian was over.
you rolled your eyes “Nooo” you said “it’s for pope.” you said opening a box and holding up a picture. “Does this look good over here.”
“When’s pope going to lock you down bambi? i’ve been holding out.” Craig joked
“You’re not funny.” popes stoic voice came from the entryway. He had a folder in his hands that he’d handed you as he walked into the room.
“jeez buzzkill.” craig joked.
“come look at the view in my room.” you said grabbing popes upper arm, you felt his muscles contract under his shirt as he followed you.
Once you were safely away from the other you kissed him deeply. The kiss surprised him, he held onto your waste tightly as he kissed you back.
You finally pulled away mumbling a thank you before kissing him again.
“Don’t need to thank me.”
“You found me this beautiful apartment, in a safe neighborhood, and i don’t need to thank you.” you said biting your lip, your hands coming to run through his auburn curls.
“You deserve the best.” he said
“Mhm” you said “Well i might be biased but i think you are definitely the best.”
“Oh yea?” pope smiled lightly
you nodded innocently before opening the sliding glass door to your balcony from your room. Grabbing his hand you pulled him out with you before pulling him down slightly so you could whisper into his ear.
“I definitely can think of a few ways to thank you.” you said biting his earlobe teasingly. “In multiple different places”
pope responded with a restrained groan as his hands tightened on your hips.
“But promise me something.” you asked him looking into his eyes you loved so much.
“Anything.”
“One night, after and only after we tell everyone that we’re together, because i want you andy all of you, i want you to take me out to a nice dinner then i want you to take me back here and i want you to fuck me on this balcony so the whole fucking city knows i belong to pope cody.” you said your eyes never leaving his “Promise me?” you said batting your eyelashes
Pope snarled a “I promise.” before his hand came up to wrap in your hair as he kissed you, all tongue and teeth. If it weren’t for Craig’s loud shouting about how you and pope were probably fucking you were certain the neighborhood would have gotten a show way earlier than you planned.
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