#current wips

His Best Girl "Tonight is only about discussing things." His voice was still warm, but there was a firmer edge beneath it now. "We don't want to put any pressure on him, remember? No fun." "Yeah, you're right. No fun." you said sarcastically. He pinched your skin, making you yelp with a little giggle, before returning to the stove. "Behave." he said, reaching for the wooden spoon. You smiled, even if the simple word made your face heat. You watched him stir the pan, his shoulders relaxed beneath his shirt, one hip leaned into the counter, the deep brown hair across his forearms twitching as he flexed, moving the chicken around the pan. He looked so ordinary like this. Domestic. Sweet. You knew well and good he had his reasons for being so strict the past month. He'd explained them to you more than once, always with that same, steady patience of his, always making sure you understood the punishment wasn't because you were bad, but that you'd made a bad decision. There was a difference, he'd said, and you believed him. It still made guilt creep hotly into your face as you watched him now. You resumed your work at the cutting board, laying out the washed lettuce and chopping with the knife, only the noise of domesticity filling the kitchen now—your knife meeting the board, the sizzling of the chicken in the pan, the faint clink of Robby setting the spoon against the side of the skillet. You watched out of the corner of your eye as he took a small cherry tomato from the plastic box beside the washed vegetables. "Go sit," he said gently, nudging your hip as he licked the remnants of juice from his thumb. "I've got this." You didn't need to be told twice, taking his bid and putting down the knife to go sit down. But as you turned your back, you felt his warm hand latch around your arm, and suddenly pull you tight against his side. You gasped, chest going flush to him once again. The spoon was still in his other hand as the chicken hissed in the pan behind him. His fingers wrapped around your arm, intense but not hurting as he held fast. "When Jack gets here," he murmured, his voice different now, low and baritone and intense. It made your skin rise in goosebumps. "I want you to answer the door and give him a kiss, okay?" You swallowed dryly, the gentle pulse that had been a distant reminder between your legs now jumping in earnest. "Yes, Robby."

╰┈➤ˎˊa part six to this series

untouched, xo (young love) warning: mentions of smurf's abuse Every so often his tongue would drag unconsciously across his bottom lip, catching phantom traces of you. If he closed his eyes and let his mind wander a bit, he could still feel the warmth of your mouth against his. And that little gasp you'd made when he'd kissed you back… His cock had finally gone down enough to stop hurting sometime in the last hour, but not fully. The denim of his jeans still stiff and awkward over it, and twice he’d thought about jerking off just to make the ache stop, but the idea died immediately every time he looked at the bedroom door. Smurf never allowed locks in the house. What in the world would you have to hide from your mother? she'd said once. I've seen it all anyway, baby. So Pope sat there instead with his spine tight and his jaw tighter, listening to the sounds drifting through the house beyond his walls. At one point, sometime around one or maybe two, when he thought it was safest, he’d finally gotten up for a glass of water because the house had gone so quiet he figured everybody must’ve finally left. But the second he stepped into the kitchen and looked out through the windows over the sink, he saw you and J in the pool together in the empty backyard. Blue underwater lights rippled over you while you splashed at each other playfully in the deep end, your body only a mirage beneath the water from where he stood. Pope had frozen there with the cabinet door still hanging open beside him, unable to move while he watched you float backward through the water giggling, hair pulled up on top of your head, J swimming after you through the glowing blue light. He'd returned to his room and sat for a while longer, though he wasn't sure how long anymore. Only that his thoughts had gone from a little ashamed of how hard you'd made him to downright possessive and angry and wishing he could just be normal, normal enough to stay out at the party all day, to find you again, to kiss you again. To make you explain to him what you'd meant. At some point—he couldn't tell if it was minutes or hours later—he heard the door to his bedroom open. He first thought maybe it was one of his brothers coming to say goodbye, though he knew better. They never did that anymore. Then his stomach tightened at the thought it might be Smurf checking in on him, asking him why he'd disappeared all night, why he looked so wound up. But then he heard your voice, and his neck turned so fast he nearly put a crick in it. “Hi,” you whispered.

╰┈➤ˎˊa part two to this fic

Lucky "Mom, it's okay, it's me," you rushed out quickly, repeating your name over and over while your hands tried to steady her shoulders. "You're okay, Mom, it's me, your daughter, I'm right here—" But your mother was wide eyed, gray wispy eyebrows pushed together in confusion. "I don't have a daughter—where—where am I? Who are you!?" You looked like you were in pain, trying to hold her in your arms, but she was squirming away from you, pushing you with all her might. "Mom—please, let's get you in bed—" you tried, and he watched as your face pained, worry causing a deep crease between your brows. You kept trying to soothe her with gentle words even as your hands tightened on her arms. "No!" she cried, twisting harder. "Get away from me! Help!" You reeled backward from her like she'd burned you, and Pope moved before he even thought about it. "Honey," he said immediately, crouching beside her. "You're alright, darling. It's me." There were tears streaming down your mother's face, but her hiccuping finally stopped when her glistening eyes landed on him. A sudden sigh of relief left her shivering frame as she reached for his face. Both her withering hands held it, just on the cheeks. He didn't flinch from her touch, he only let his eyes shut a little, letting her think she knew him. Pope held her automatically so she wouldn't slip on the stone beneath her slippers. When his eyes opened again, he saw you watching him with an expression he wasn't sure how to read. Surprise, anguish, hurt. He couldn't name every single emotion that threaded your brows, caused the frown on your lips, but it made your eyes narrow and widen and narrow again. You couldn't even seem to make the words. You looked like you might throw up or punch him or cry. Maybe all three. He slowly loosened his hold on your mother and moved his hands carefully down to her elbows instead, helping her upright. She hissed sharply the second weight hit one leg. "What hurts?" you asked immediately, stepping back in despite everything that'd just happened. Your hands hovered near her waist, near her arm, unsure where to touch now. "Mom, where does it hurt?" Your mother looked at you like she'd never met you before. "Honey, who is this girl you've brought home with you?" she asked, genuinely curious, "Is this one of the girls from your classes at the university?" Pope looked at you automatically, a question written across his face. You only nodded, looking away from him. "Yeah," you answered quietly. "I just needed help with an essay he assigned." He only vaguely looked up who your father was. Some professor at UCSD for ten years, then fled once you'd turned teenager for a career abroad or some other. He didn't need to know the details, only knew your dad abandoned you, and that was enough to know exactly the kind of man he was. "You're always giving those poor kids too much work over summer break," your mother scolded lightly, leaning heavier into him while he steadied her. "Yeah," Pope muttered. "Probably." He glanced down toward her ankle. "Think you hurt yourself when you fell?" "I only came outside to check the weeds," she sighed tiredly. "I asked the gardeners to trim them days ago. The front yard looks awful, you'll need to mow it soon. Maybe lay down some new seed in this hot weather." He nodded thoughtfully, and only glancing over his shoulder to see if you were coming, led your mother inside.