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**Special thanks to @josephs-quinns for my header, love you!**
7:00 AM Series (Complete)
Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Wife/Nurse!Reader
7:00 AM Part One
7.00 AM Part Two
7:00 AM Part Three
7:00 AM Part Four
7:00 AM Part Five
7:00 AM Part Six
7:00 AM Part Seven
7:00 AM Part Eight
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And Still, I'm Not Leaving
Rating: 18+ MATURE THEMES.
Warnings: mentions of murder, mental health issues, depression, suicidal ideation?, being in love with a criminal lmao. If I forgot anything, let me know.
**I will continue this probably and maybe even write the ending of the series in my own way and it will probably HURT LIKE HELL.**
Neither you or Pope knew how long it had been happening. He had been so busy running jobs with his brothers and getting the skate park off the ground he hadn’t notied anything was wrong.
Not until the power went out.
He’d come home, tossed his keys on the counter, and headed for the microwave to heat up some food. Instead, the dark display blinked bakc at him, the clock flashing an unfamiliar time.
Then there was the cereal box.
It was turned the wrong way.
He was particular when it came to keeping things clean and orderly. Some people might’ve called it obsessive, but to him, it was simply the wya things were supposed to be. After parties at Smurf’s, while everyone else slept off hangovers, Pope would be outside picking up beer bottles, sweeping the patio, and taking trash to the curb.
Nothing was ever out of place.
Until now.
And now, he was spiraling.
“Can you relax?” you asked, stepping up behind him and rubbing your hands over his tense shoulders.
A heavy sigh escaped him.
Pope glanced toward the sliding glass doors before dragging a hand over his face. “A cop’s tailing me.”
“Let’s make sure first, okay?” you said softly. “No spiraling until then.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek.
If you were being honest, the thought of Pope ending up back behind the bars terrified you.
Baz was gone. Smurf was gone.
That only left Pope, Craig, Deran, and J.
And if Pope went back to jail—prison this time, more likely—you had a feeling he wouldn’t be coming home for a very long time.
The worst part is you knew exactly what he was capable of.
You knew what happened to his sister-in-law.
You knew Smurf had put the idea in his head, twisting and manipulating until he couldn’t tell where her voice ended and his began. Somehow, she always found a way to get inside his head, to convince him that whatever she wanted was the only choice he had.
Smurf might have been dead, but the damange she’d done to Pope was still very much alive.
“What if they know I killed Cath?”
“Then we’ll deal with it,” you said, meeting his gaze. “But until we know what this is, you’re not going to sit here and convince yourself it’s already over.”
“There was this woman,” he said quietly. “She told me she was looking for Taylor. I spent half the day driving her around town, helping her look for him.”
A bitter laugh escaped him as he looked away.
“I should’ve known she was a fucking cop.”
“Andrew.” You said his name firmly, waiting until his eyes found yours. “Stop.”
He held your gaze for a moment before giving a small nod. “Okay.”
Little did you know, he barely slept that night.
He spent most of it lying awake.
Sometimes he turned away from you, staring out through the blinds. Other times he lay on his back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. And when neither of those helped quiet his mind, he turned toward you and watched you sleep soundly beside him.
Sleep never came easy when he had this much to lose.
The next day, Pope headed straight for the skate park.
The moment he spotted Taylor, he made a beeline for him.
“Tell me what the hell is going on,” he demanded.
Taylor barely had time to react before Pope was in his face, his patience already gone. Every sleepless hour from the night before had only made him more agitated.
“Because if you’re keeping something from me,” Pope warned. “you’re gonna start talking. Right now.”
Eventually, Taylor cracked.
He admitted he’d been talking to a cop—a detective who had been pretending to be his mother the entire time.
Worse, he confessed that she had broken into the Cody house herself. The power outage. The things being moved around. Every little detail had been carefully orchestrated to get inside Pope’s head and make him paranoid.
It had worked.
Pope didn’t tell you any of it, but by the time he left the skate park, he’d already decided to take matters into his own hands.
Unfortunately for him, the detective was one step ahead.
When Pope finally confronted her, she made it clear she knew exactly what he’d done to Catherine.
The words hit him like a freight train.
For a moment, everything around him started to fall away. The noise. The anger. The plan he’d spent all night obsessing over.
Gone.
His entire world shattered with a single confession.
That’s when Pope finally came clean to his brothers and nephew.
He told his brothers, Deran and Craig, as well as J, the truth about what happened to Catherine.
The confession landed exactly how you’d expect.
J took the news better than anyone else, remaining surprisingly calm as Pope explained everything. Craig, on the other hand, was so shaken that he got up and left. Deran didn’t say much at all. Instead, he closed the bar down early and crashed there.
That was the moment it felt like the family started to come apart at the seams.
In the days that followed, J reached out to an attorney for advice. After hearing the situation, the attorney told them the best thing Pope could do was turn himself in for the assault chargers involving Taylor.
If he was going to be investigated, cooperation would work in his favor.
At least, that was the hope.
Both you and Deran went with Pope to the police department the day he turned himself in. The attorney was already waiting when you arrived.
The entire walk inside felt surreal, as if you were watching someone else’s life unfold instead of your own. No one said much. There wasn’t anything left to say.
When the officers moved to handcuff him, Pope turned and looked at you.
Just looked at you.
The sight of those handcuffs around his wrists felt like a punch to the chest.
You couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t think.
You watched as the officers began reading him his Miranda rights, but the words barely registered. Their voices faded into the background, becoming nothing mroe than distant noise. Your mind drifted somewhere far away, disconnecting from the reality unfolding in front of you.
Because if you let yourself fully process what was happening, you weren’t sure you’d survive it.
Deran stepped closer and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a gentle side hug.
“It’s gonna be okay,” he murmyred, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze. “This isn’t forever.”
You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to.
But as you watched Pope disappear further into the police station, it felt impossible. The officers continued speaking to him, explaining his rights and the next steps. Pope listened quietly, his expression unreadable.
He knew the drill.
He’d been through this before.
The moment they tried asking questions, he gave them the only answer they getting.
“I want my attorney.”
And that was that.
No explanations. No excuses. No conversation.
Just silence and a lawyer.
The way he’d learned long ago.
But everything changed when the detective managed to get him alone. As soon as they placed Pope in the interrogation room, she started pushing. She laid photographs across the table. Photographs of Catherine.
Or what was left of her.
Years had passed since her death. The woman in the pictures was gone, reduced to little more than skeletal remains.
Pope tried not to look. Tried not to react.
The detective noticed. And she pressed harder.
She told him that if the case went to trial, Lena could end up being involved. That one day she might have to hear every detail of what happened to her mother.
Worse, she implied Lena could be forced to see the photographs.
The thought alone made him sick.
She claimed she knew you had known about Catherine’s death all along. That you helped keep the secret. That she could charge you as an accessory.
It was a bluff.
At least, Pope hoped it was.
But sititng there, staring at those photographs while the detective threatened the two people he cared about most, certainty became a lot harder to hold onto.
For the first time since turning himself in, he felt the walls beginning to close in.
And he confessed.
After evwerything—the attorney, the warnings, the promises to keep his mouth shut—he admitted to killing Catherine.
You didn’t know what had happened inside that room.
You only knew something was wrong the moment the detective walked back out.
She was smiling.
The sight of it made your stomach drop.
Beside you, Deran immediately straightened.
“When is he coming home?” he asked.
The detective’s smile never faltered. “Oh, he’ll be spending the night with us.”
A knot formed in yourt throat.
“Why?” Deran demanded.
The detective glanced between the two of you.
“Because he confessed to murdering Catherine Belen.”
The words hit like a ton of bricks. For a moment, the world seemed to tilt beneath your feet.
No.
No, no, no.
Pope wasn’t supposed to talk.
He knew better than that.
You could barly hear anything over the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his attorney’s expression darken. Furious didn’t even begin to cover it. Without another word, he stormed past the detective and disappeared down the hallway to speak with Pope. Leaving you and Deran standing there in stunned silence.
On the way home, you let go.
It didn’t happen all at once, but slowly—like something inside you finally gave out.
Deran kept one hand on the wheel, the other occasionally reaching over as if he wasn’t sure whether to touch you or leave you alone.
“Hey,” he said quietly, trying to pull you back from wherever you’d gone. “We’re gonna figure this out.”
You didn’t respond immediately.
Not because you didn’t hear him.
But because you weren’t sure you believed him.
You didn’t remember pulling into the Cody driveway. You didn’t rememeber the car coming to a stop or Deran helping you out of your seat.
One moment you were staring blankly out the window, and the next you were standing outside on the patio.
Everything in between was a blur.
The second you stepped ont he patio, J was on his feet.
His expression tightened as he looked past you, as if expecting Pope to come behind you.
“Where’s Pope?” he asked.
Deran’s eyes found yours first.
When it became clear you weren’t going to speak, he let out a quiet sigh and explained everything to J.
For the rest of the night, Deran did everything he could to make sure you were okay.
He brought you food at one point, setting the plate down beside you and gently encouraging you to eat. You never touched it.
Mostly, you sat alone in the bedroom.
Sometimes you stared at the wall. Sometimes at the empty space beside you on the bed.
Everytime you looked at it, your chest tightened.
Pope was supposed to be there.
Instead, he was sitting in a jail cell.
Eventually, you crawled beneath the covers and curled into his side of the bed, clutching one of his pillows to your chest.
It still smelled like him.
That was your breaking point.
The tears came harder than before, and sometime during the early hours of the morning, you cried yourself to sleep.
At least, what little sleep your aching heart allowed.
You weren’t sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way, you stopped caring whether the sun rose and the day began.
Life was beginning to lose its purpose.
Without Pope, everything felt meaningless.
The days blurred together. The house felt too quiet. And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t imagine a future that didn’t have him in it.
Deran grew so concerned about you that after a few days, he started dragging you to the bar with him. He claimed he needed the extra help, but you both knew that wasn’t the real reason. He just didn’t want you sitting home alone.
Deran and J wasted no time making arrangements. Whatever favors needed to be called in were called. Whatever money needed to change hands did.
One way or another, they were going to make sure Pope was taken care of on the inside.
The morning of the visit, you almost backed out.
You’d spent days barely holding yourself together, and now you were expected to sit across from Pope and see him like this.
Behind glass.
Like a stranger.
Like a criminal.
Deran noticed your hesitation the second you walked into the kitchen.
“You ready?” he asked.
No.
Not even clsoe.
Still, you nodded.
The drive to the jail passed in a blur. Deran tried making conversation a few times, but neither of you had much to say.
The reality of where you were going sat heavily between you.
By the time you arrived, your stomach was in knots.
The correctional officer led you through a series of locked doors before stopping in front of a visitation room.
Rows of thick glass divided the room in half.
Telephones hung from the walls on either side.
Your chest tightened.
This was real.
Pope was really here.
The officer directed you and Deran toward a pair of chairs. “Wait here.”
You sat down.
Your hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
Minutes ticked by. Then the door on the opposite side opened.
You breath caught.
Pope stepped into the room.
For a moment, nobody moved.
He still looked good. Hair still dark and curly. He might have been a little thinner.
But something was missing from his eyes.
Something defeated.
The sight of him nearly broke you.
Slowly, he lowered himself into the chair across from you. The glass separating you felt a thousand miles thick. You stared at each other. Neither of you knowing where to begin.
Eventially, Pope reached for the phone.
You did the same.
The second his voice came through the receiver, your eyes filled with tears.
“Hey.”
His voice was rough. Like he hadn’t used it much.
You swallowed hard. “Hey.”
A sad smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Neither of you spoke for several seconds. You were too busy looking at him. Memorizing him. Trying to convince yourself he was actually sitting there.
Pope glanced down at the floor.
“I’m sorry.”
The words were barely audible.
Your throat tightened.
“Andrew—”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
You felt tears spill down your cheeks.
On the other side of the glass, Pope looked just as miserable.
He lifted a hand and placed it against the glass barrier.
Instinctively, you mirrored the gesture. Your palm pressed against the glass directly across from his.
So close.
Yet completely unable to touch him.
The reality of it shattered whatever composure you had left.
“I miss you,” you whispered.
Pope closed his eyes.
For a second, he looked like the words physically hurt him.
When he opened them again, they were glassy.
“I miss you too.”
Behind you, Deran quietly looked away, giving the two of you whatever privacy he could. Because for the first time since Pope had been arrested, you were finally together.
And somehow, the glass between you made his absene hurt even more.
Pope looked away first, his jaw tightening as he stared down at the phone in his hand.
"How's Lena?"
The question came softer than everything else, like it cost him something just to ask.
You swallowed before answering.
"She's okay."
Pope's eyes searched yours immediately.
"Yeah?"
You nodded.
"She's still with the foster family."
A flicker of emotion crossed his face.
"They take good care of her, Andrew. She's got friends there. She's doing well in school."
Pope listened quietly.
You knew how hard that decision had been for him.
"I went to see her last week," you continued gently. "She's happy."
For a moment, he looked down at the phone in his hand.
Then he nodded.
A small, sad smile touched his lips.
"Good."
His voice was rough.
"That's good."
The smile disappeared as quickly as it came.
"She shouldn't have to deal with this," he muttered.
"Andrew—"
"She already lost her dad." His voice cracked. "She lost her mom. Smurf. Now this."
He swallowed hard, struggling to hold himself together.
"I don't want her dragged through court."
Your chest tightened.
"They told me what the detective said," you whispered.
Pope let out a humorless breath. "Yeah."
His eyes finally lifted to yours.
"They would've brought Lena into it. Put her on a stand. Made her hear everything."
A tear slipped down your cheek.
"Andrew—"
"I can't do that to her."
The words were final. Unshakable.
"I won't."
Silence settled between you, heavy and suffocating.
Then his gaze shifted, sharper now.
"Same goes for you."
Your breath caught. "What?"
"They were already talking about you," he said, grip tightening on the phone. "Saying you knew. Saying they could charge you."
"It doesn't matter," you said quickly.
"It matters to me."
That was the first real crack in his voice.
"It matters."
His eyes shone now, held too much in them.
"I already ruined enough lives."
"No," you said immediately.
"Yes."
The word came out rough.
"Lena," he said quietly.
"J. Craig. Deran."
Then, almost barely audible—
"You."
Your heart broke at that.
You leaned closer to the glass.
"Look at me."
He didn't move at first.
"Andrew."
Slowly, his eyes lifted.
And when they met yours, you felt everything inside you tighten.
"I love you," you said softly.
The words hung in the space between you, heavy and absolute.
Pope's breath hitched.
His eyes closed for a second, like it physically hurt to hear it.
When he opened them again, they were glassy.
"I don't deserve that," he whispered.
"That's not your choice," you said.
Your hand pressed harder against the glass.
"And I'm not going anywhere."
A tear slipped down his cheek.
You swallowed hard, voice shaking but steady enough to hold him.
"I love you, Andrew."
This time, he didn't argue.
He just looked at you like he was trying to memorize the sound of it.
Like it was something he might lose again the second he blinked.
Slowly, he lifted his hand and pressed it to the glass over yours.
And for the first time since he'd been locked inside those walls, he didn't look completely alone.
You guys are gonna hate me but I want to write Sammy Bryant
And what if I wrote Pope Cody in prison and the reader dealing with it? What then?
Would all read?
YES
No
Now I’m debating make Pope a twin dad????
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I need to write some of my Robby Robinavitch.
I miss him.
Quick…..for science…..since people agree Pope Cody deserves his own family. Would he be…..
A boy dad then maybe a daughter
A girl dad
Monsters and Mountain Men
Rating: Read warnings below!
Warnings: really just tooth-rotting, sweet fluff. A small warning alluding to sex at the end and having another baby but other than that, it's soft.
Author's Note: This idea came to me very late and even though I am busy with a shit work schedule this week and college, I had to get this out of my head. I was also insired by the latest pics of Shawn 🤪 Anyway, I hope you all enjoy! For my besie @josephs-quinns
Between raising a daughter and working nights as an ER attending, Jack Abbot rarely had a moment to himself. Yet no matter how long the hours or how heavy the exhaustion settled into his bones, he always made time for his daughter and you. Somehow, he never stopped showing up. Today was no different.
Just wanna write fan fiction but I have responsibilities like working and going for my masters
Tickled Pink
Rating: 18+ For medical reasons
Warnings: Pregnancy, mentions of labor, birth, etc. If I forgot anything, let me know. Also, if anyone knows who this gif belongs to, let me know and I will add credit!
Author's Note: I proof read this but I am exhausted between college and work so pleaseu ignore typos or mistakes. I might have made Jack OOC but I needed to get this out of my head. For my bestie @josephs-quinns
By the time summer began to fade, neither of you could quite remember where it had gone. After the Fourth of July, life settled into a relentless rhythm of work schedules, nursery preparations, and endless lists that seemed to grow longer by the day. The anticipation of your baby’s arrival filled every corner of the house, leaving little room for you and your husband, Dr. Jack Abbot, to simply be husband and wife.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Trying to find inspo for DBF Jack x reader
An anon inboxed me and asked if I would write Titus Danforth and the answer is yes
Just gotta do a little research as in watching Ready or Not which I may do on my weekend off 🤪
Anyone got any requests or ideas they’d like to see me write? Inbox me or comment.
Undertow
An undertow is a strong, subsurface current that pulls water back out to sea after waves break on the shore.
Rating: 18+ MATURE THEMES.
Warnings: mentions of death, grieving, Cody family business, nausea, vomiting (again, obvious where this is headed). IF I FORGOT ANYTHING, LET ME KNOW.
Summary: Just days after Baz’s death, Pope makes the sudden decision to become Lena’s guardian. But you have a secret of your own.
“How do I tell her?” Pope questioned, pacing the length of the Cody family kitchen while you sat quietly on a barstool by the counter. Nervous energy rolled off him in waves, sharp and restless.
Alright if I wrote another part where Jack and the reader with the baby would that be something you all would read? And let me know if you would want to be tagged!
YES
No
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Brett Richards? And I’m gonna tag what I want to!!!!!! 🤪🤪🤪🤪
Yes
No
Lmao love getting hate anons on my blog that is literally supposed to be for fun.