Summary: You loved Robby enough to build a life around him once. The kind of life you thought people only talked about. Then things changed slowly, and then all at once, until the man beside you no longer felt familiar. Time apart was supposed to make things easier. Instead, a series of circumstances forces the two of you back into the same room, where everything left unsaid is still waiting.
Pairing: Husband! Robby x Wife! reader
WC: 6.1k
Warnings: 18+, loosely! following the pitt s1 timeline in some ways, stressful work life, mentions of depression, not accurate lmao, strained marriage, arguments, lying, toxic dynamics, inappropriate workplace behavior, jack and mckay are two of reader’s close friends, mentions of a previous miscarriage, talks of abortion, slightly proofread, fade to black at the end.
part one
You were pregnant.
Pregnant by the husband that you had separated from, the one that you actively wanted to leave.
You picked up your phone after staring at the test for what felt like an eternity. The positive didn’t change to a negative, it was just there.
You texted Mckay, the best person for this situation.
You: I fucked up, big time.
You: Can you come over?
Three dots came onto the screen, your heart in your throat.
Are you okay? I can be over in a few minutes.
You: Depends on your view of being okay.
How were you going to explain this? God, you were so fucking stupid.
Maybe, drinking the wine earlier before you knew would’ve made this easier to understand and accept.
You stayed in the bathroom, biting your lip— sick to your stomach.
A few minutes later, your doorbell rang.
You walked downstairs, opening the door to Cassie standing there— her hair in a messy ponytail and wearing her oversized gray jacket.
“I got here as quickly as I could, your text was very vague.” She started.
“I’m sorry, I just.. I’m a mess.” You mumbled, shutting the door behind her as she walked in.
“So, what’s going on?” She asked, pushing a few stray hairs from her face.
“Follow me.” You signaled, walking up the steps.
She followed you, the thump of her feet against the carpeted stairs— echoing in your ear.
You walked into your bathroom and quickly picked up the pregnancy test on the counter, turning it to show her the positive result.
“What is—“
“Oh.” Mckay responded, stopping in her tracks.
“Oh.”
You laughed, trying to stop yourself from crying again.
Her eyes flickered from the pregnancy test back to you, “is it Robby’s?”
You nodded, rubbing your nose.
“Yeah.. it’s his.”
Mckay scratches her brow, her hand on her hip.
“I thought the two of you were divorcing, like you were done?”
You looked down at your fingers, embarrassed to admit that you messed up.
“We were.. I was planning on it—“
“It just had been a bit and things got out of hand after he came over.”
"Well, that was totally not what I was expecting from your text." She mumbled.
She rubbed your arm, a huff of air leaving her lungs.
The two of you had been friends for years, but not just friends— she is your best friend. Despite everything, the two of you have managed to be there for each other through it all, the big moments and small ones.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” You admitted.
Both of you walked out of your bathroom and back downstairs, taking a seat on the couch.
Mckay angled herself on the couch to see you better.
“Are you going to keep it?—“
“I know how you feel about Robby and having children in general, but also after dealing with the miscarriage.”
It was as if Mckay’s words were going in one ear and out the other, it was hard to process what she was saying when you felt like the floor was being pulled from underneath you.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Cass. Having a baby with someone who refuses to get the help that they need, probably isn’t wise.”
For the first time in your entire friendship, Cassie gave you a look of pity— a look of hoping that things for her friend would somehow change or become better.
It was embarssing more than anything else, how you let him back into your bed and into your home— knowing that he hadn't gotten help.
How even when he wasn't kind you felt drawn to him.
When Mckay left, you laid in your bed — your mind on Robby more than anything else. You wanted to text him and be full of excitement, have him come home to some exciting announcement— watch him be excited to be a dad. Instead, you were in your bed crying— thinking of all the ways that your marriage failed.
If you kept it, what kind of life would it have? Would Robby even be alive to see the baby be born? Would he get his shit together and be a good dad?
A bunch of questions that you couldn't possibly answer.
That night, when you tried sleeping— you tossed and turned constantly. You finally gave up in the middle of the night and decided to scroll on your phone.
You looked at your text thread with Robby, the messages that you had ignored.
I didn't mean to wake you, if I did. I know that this changes nothing, but I missed you. I missed sleeping beside you, feeling your head against my chest.
You deserve so much better than me.
I need you.
You abandoned me. I would've never did that to you. I would've never gave up on us.
I'm sorry, I had been drinking and couldn't unsend it. I don't think that you abandoned me, I know that you needed space.
Talk to me, please. I need you, baby.
This entire thing was much harder than you wanted it to be. You were supposed to be excited over being pregnant, not feeling this way. After all, it was something that you and Robby had wanted— something that both of you dreamed of.
You closed the message thread and began to look up abortion pills that could be shipped to your home, discreetly and fast.
There was no reason to dwell on it, it was what you needed to do. It was what you should've been be eager to do— leave Robby and get rid of any problems that were attached to him.
You knew how abortions worked— how they got rid of the baby, how you'd bleed for sometime after, how you might need some pills for pain.
What you didn't know was if you'd forgive yourself for this, if Robby would forgive you for not including him. He was still your husband.
Two weeks later..
You sat at the clinic, the buzz of the lights overhead sounding all too familar.
That was a clinc that you found online—good reviews, more on the luxury end, and twenty minutes away from your house. It checked all of the boxes that you had.
The office felt inviting, not cold or sterile like the hospital and not judgemental or chaotic like a pregannacy crisis center.
The lobby had you and two other pregnant women waiting, one who was there with her partner— her hand on her bump and a smile on her face. The other sat there, scrolling on her phone and alone like you.
Admittedly, this appointment had made you more nervous than you intended. You craved a glass of wine more than would be appropriate to admit.
"Mrs.Robin—"
"Mrs. Robinavitch?" The nurse called, standing at the door and holding it open.
You stood from your seat, making your way to the woman and through the door.
"How are you?" She smiled, glancing from the clipboard.
"Never Better." You muttered.
Which was a lie, but that was an appointment to confirm your pregnancy— not a therapy sesssion.
She took your weight and confirmed your height before leading you into a room.
"I see we're here to confirm a pregnancy—"
"Yes." You responded.
"When did you take the pregnancy test?" She asked, scanning onto the computer in front of her.
"About two and half weeks ago now."
"Is this your first pregnancy?"
You shook your head, "No. I was pregnant abou five months ago, it ended in a miscarriage shortly after I found out."
She nodded, typing away at the keyboard.
"We're going to do a blood and urine test today, just to confirm the pregnacy. We will also check your levels to make sure that everything is how it should be, along with giving you an estimated due date."
God, that moment felt surreal. You were sitting in a doctor’s office, confirming a pregnancy and you were all alone— just like when you had the miscarriage.
You sat there, fidgeting with your wedding ring— swinging your feet as they dangled off the table. The nurse glanced between your chart and the computer screen, entering in information. The silence felt never ending.
She finally closed her tabs, swiped her badge to signout, and handed you a cup.
"I need a urine sample from you, in this. I can also get you water, if that will help you go to the bathroom."
You pushed yourself off of the table and gently took the cup from her hands.
"I should be fine, thank you though."
You walked into the tiny and dimly lit bathroom that they had in the hallway, unbuttoning your pants to pee in the cup.
Maybe, the test was a false positive and you were worried for nothing— there was no real decision to be made.
You peed in the cup, returned to the room and then got your blood drawn.
The wait is what really made you want to vomit, waiting to know if you could go back to living life the way that you had been or preparing for it to change in ways that you hadn't considered.
The woman came back into the room, her clipboard in her hand along with some papers.
"Well, it looks like congratulations are in order. You are pregnant, dear."
You wanted to laugh, your hearing feeling muffled in the moment.
Congratulations was far from what you were looking for.
You looked at her, your heart feeling as if it was being squeezed in your chest.
She smiled, handing you your papers.
"It looks like you'll be due in September as well. We will have you come back next week for a vaginal ultrasound. The front desk can help you get that scheduled."
You nodded, trying to hide the fact that you wanted to cry.
"Do you have any questions for me?"
You shook your head, "No ma'am. It seems like everything is pretty self explanatory."
"Okay, well these pamphlets and papers will give you more information about your pregnancy and resources if you need them. Please, do not be afraid to call the office if you have any questions or concerns." She added.
Within a few minutes, she guided you back into the lobby. You rushed to schedule another appointment and make it back out to your car.
Once you were near your car, you threw up in the parking lot— your nerves getting the better of you.
You needed Robby by your side, you didn't want to go through this alone.
Admittedly, you were terrified of this whole situation.
Five months later…
Life had continued on the way that it always did, finding out that you were pregnant didn't ruin you like you thought it would.
You hadn't talked to Robby in about three months and surprisingly, he hadn't said anything to you either. You wondered what he'd been up to, but you still needed space.
The restaurant was overflowing with chatter and customers as you took a seat at the table, the smell of nachos and alcohol lingering in the air.
You glanced over the menu, your thoughts interrupted by Jack taking his seat across from you.
"I'm sorry for being late, there was some traffic on the way."
You shrugged, "I just got here myself."
He adjusted in his seat, pulling a menu towards him.
"How are you feeling?" He asked.
You sighed, your hand on your round belly.
"I am exhausted, fat, out of breath, and now an extremely picky eater."
Jack laughed in amusement, the lines near the side of his eyes deepening.
The server came and took both of your drink orders, giving you more time to decide on food.
"How is everything coming along with the nursery?" Jack questioned, taking a sip of his water.
"It's going fine, outside of me having so many things left to do. Cassie is coming over this weekend to help with a few things."
You quickly found what you were going to eat on the menu, closing it and sliding it in front of you.
"Have you talked to Robby?" You hesitantly asked.
Jack sighed, his lip twitching.
"Yeah, I talk to him pretty frequently—"
"He's still adamant about taking that sabbatical... I mean he's just, not doing well."
The server brought back your drinks, placing them on napkins in front of you.
You sipped some of the tea through your straw, trying to bite back urge to ask a millon questions about him.
"Has he still not talked to you?" Jack pried.
The question made your heart jump in your chest, "um."
Your sentence interrupted by another server coming to take your order.
"I have not heard from him in months, so no. I'm not sure that I would've replied had he said anything though, so I guess it doesn't matter." You confessed.
"He's pushing everyone away.. everyone is worried about him—"
"He's dropping hints that he might not come back from this sabbatical." Jack informed you.
Your stomach dropped, like the way it would when you were on a rollercoaster.
"That night that he came over months ago, I was hopeful that he'd get help— that he wanted to be better. I was clearly wrong."
Jack gave you a look, a look that you knew all too well— a look that meant he was going to bring something you'd hate up.
He crossed his arms in front of him.
"Tell him about the babies."
You laughed, waving him off. "No, I'm not doing that."
Jack huffed, "you need to. He deserves to know and you deserve to have your husband's support."
"My husband has not spoken to me in months and when he did, you never knew how the conversation would go. I put up with his meaness and disregard for my feelings for months, literally until I started to fall apart—"
"I don't want to be involved in his continued spiral. I have too much to worry about." You reminded him.
"Robby needs—"
"Robby is a big boy and he needs to get help. He should've gotten help months ago and I won't use my babies as leverage to make him do the right thing." You interrupted, adjusting in your seat.
"Christ, the two of you are the most difficult people that I've ever met—"
"What are you going to do? huh? Have your babies, raise them in the same city, and act like Robby doesn't exist or hope that you never run into him one day?—"
"You need to tell him." He scoffed, rubbing his face.
"I thought this was supposed to be lunch not a lecture." You mocked.
"It is lunch, but I'm also tiptoeing around the both of you. I see him everyday and lie to his face, lie to him about how you are doing."
"What if me telling him changes nothing? What then, Jack?"
"Then, at least you tried and at least he knew."
"That's not good enough." You argued.
"What's not good enough?"
"I'm not going to add stress to my life by telling him, hoping that he'll change. Don't get me wrong, I'd love to tell him and experience this together— but I won't use them as leverage, like they're pieces to a game." You protested.
"Well, I would want my wife to tell me that I had two children on the way." He reiterated, leaning back in his chair.
"You would've never made me feel like I had to leave, so there would've been no reason to hide anything from you."
After that conversation, lunch was quiet and a little awkward. You appreciated his words, because they were true— but it also felt unfair.
Maybe, it was the heightened emotions because of your pregnancy— but it always felt like people constantly expected you to comprimise more with Robby.
Why couldn't Robby compromise with you? Meet you in the middle? It shouldn't have always had to be on you.
When you got home, you took your shoes off and curled up onto the couch. It was a lonely feeling, being pregant and doing everything by yourself. Most would argue that you didn't have to, but Michael was in no state to prepare for one baby— let alone two.
It would be a lie to say that you didn't feel bad for not telling him, because you did. You wanted to see the babies together, you wanted his input on the nursery, you wanted his hand on your belly — holding you while you slept.
You wanted all the things that any pregnant woman would dream of. You wanted the fairytale, the happy life, and happy husband.
The biggest hurdle for you was yet to come, because you had no idea how you'd handle two newborns by yourself. You had a friend group that consisted of two people that you were closest with, two people who also worked with your husband.
The stress from this situation was driving you insane, which is exactly why your doctor wanted you to take it easy.
You scrolled through your notes, staring at the two baby names that you had settled on.
Rory and Jensen.
They weren't names that you heard too often, but you had fallen in love with them. Your daughter and son had names, things were finally starting to feel real. You were going to be a mom to two children.
You dozed off on the couch and hours had passed, the dim night light in the living room glowing.
Your phone buzzed near you, which gradually woke you up.
You glanced at your screen.
It was Robby.
"Hello?" You mumbled, wiping your eyes.
"Were you asleep? I didn't mean to wake you—"
"I'm fine. What's going on, Michael?" You interrupted him, trying to understand why he called.
There was a silence on the phone, the silence filled with Robby's breaths near the mic.
"Tonight has been a dark one.. and I didn't know who else to call." He admitted.
You sat up on the couch, still groggy.
"Is everything okay?"
He huffed, but it almost came off as a laugh.
"I am sorry.. I'm sorry to call you like this after months, I'm sorry that I disappointed you.. I'm sorry that I drove you away."
"Michael, it's okay.. I just want you to be okay." You reminded him, your words coming out soft.
"I don't know what it means to be okay anymore." He spoke, his voice shaky.
"Can you come to my place? I don't want to be alone tonight." He questioned.
You started to reply, your words failing you.
"That's not a good idea and besides I can't."
"I just want to see you." He replied.
You would've loved to drop everything and rush to him or have him come over, but you knew how it would end. You'd let your guard down, remember what it's like to have him be your husband for a few hours and be disappointed again in the morning. You also would have a lot of explaining to do, given your round belly.
"I can't." You added.
The call got quiet again for a moment.
"Yeah.. no, I totally understand. I just hope you're doing well and I love you."
Before you could respond, Robby hand hung up. You felt guilty, the first time the two of you had talked in months and you pushed him away. You pushed away your husband when he needed you.
You texted Jack.
You: Can you go check on Robby? He called me and wanted me to come over, but I can't obviously.
Yeah, I can be over there shortly.
Was he okay? Did he say anything off?
You: No, he wasn't okay. He said that he was sorry, that loved me, and that tonight had been dark for him.
I'll be at his place in fifteen and I'll keep you updated.
You loved his message and tried to fight off the thoughts that entered your mind.
Hours passed and you eventually fell asleep again, but you woke up to a text from Jack— telling you that he was okay. Robby had just had a rough day at work.
You weren't sure whether you should've felt relieved or more worried, but nothing beat the guilt that gnawed at you the next day.
Days later…
Robby was glad that this was his last day of work, glad that the day of his sabbatical starting was so close.
The pitt was where he felt he was needed most, not at home with you— but helping others. It was his safe space for so long, until it began to feel like the walls were always closing in on him.
The thing that he'd loved to do for years became the thing that he dreaded most.
His struggle was widely known, a bitter pill to swallow— everyone tiptoeing around their attending thinking he might snap.
Robby walked to the desk, standing beside Dana as he picked up the iPad.
"Are you still excited to leave us?" Dana questioned, marking something on the paper in front of her.
Robby stared over the bridge of his nose, glancing between the iPad and his surroundings.
"I've been counting down the hours since I got here."
Not only was the emergency room extremely busy, but of course on the day before he leaves— Langdon returned.
The bane of his existence, the biggest mistake that he'd made.
When you confronted him months ago about him cutting Langdon slack, you were right. He should've reported him, he should've listened to you.
That was just one more thing on the list of ways that he had failed you— as a husband, as a friend, and as a superior.
He wanted to talk to you, see how you were doing, beg for your forgiveness— if you'd let him. He missed you, your smile, your smell, your energy. He missed you more than he could ever put into words. It pained him greatly knowing that he was the cause for all of it— Langdon returning, you leaving, the reason Samira was so hard on herself.
All of it.
It also didn't help how he felt, knowing that you didn't bother to come to him when he needed you. He really fucked up his marriage with the woman that loved him most.
Maybe, the best thing that he could do for you was to leave you alone.
Robby moved through the emergency room, taking mental notes of what everyone was doing— checking to see if he was needed.
He bumped into Langdon, an annoyed expression immediately on his face.
Langdon knew that Robby had been avoiding him and wanting to keep as much distance as possible between the two of them, but he wanted to apologize.
"Robby?" Langdon spoke.
"Yes, Langdon? What do you need?" Robby replied, continuing his walk and hoping that anything would come up— dragging him away from that conversation.
"I just wanted to—"
"Save it, I don't need to be apologized to." Robby cut him off mid sentence.
"You deserve an apology, because I disappointed you, and let you down."
Robby laughed, but not in amusement.
"You let yourself and the hospital down, not me."
"No, I let you down too. You trusted me and I violated that, I embarrassed you—"
"I've been trying to make up for what I did, make amends."
Robby put hand sanitizer on his hands, his eyes facing forward as he kept walking.
"You can't make up for what you did, you broke an oath and betrayed your coworkers." Robby spoke bluntly.
Langdon's lip twitched, his face reddened.
"I can try, that's all that matters. I don't want to lose anymore than I almost did, my wife wanted to leave and take the kids."
Robby gritted his teeth, "good."
Langdon nodded his head, not that he agreed with Robby's words— but because maybe he deserved them.
Langdon started to walk away, stopping in his tracks.
"Also, congrats man. I didn't know that you were expecting, I'm happy for you."
Robby stopped in his tracks, his eyes flickering to Langdon.
"What?"
Langdon smiled, genuinely unaware.
"Yeah, no one told me. My wife saw your wife at the store looking at baby stuff—"
"But let me know what the gender is and I'll get a gift. Fatherhood is awesome, you'll love it." Langdon continued, walking into one of the rooms.
Robby wasn't expecting a child, but Langdon's wife saw you— searching for baby items and presumably visibly pregnant? That's not possible.
You would've told him, wouldn't you?
Was Langdon using again? He must've been.
It was if Robby's world was spinning faster than everyone else, his heart racing and vision blurry.
Robby pushed into the empty peds room, the door quickly and softly shutting behind him.
He tugged at his jacket, his chest feeling tight like he wasn't getting enough air.
In his mind, all he could think of was that Langdon might've been mistaken—his wife must've been confused.
He knew that you wanted to keep your distance and pursue a divorce, but it never crossed his mind that there could've been other underlying reasons.
Oh, God.. He remembered that he didn't pull out when he had sex with you months ago, which made that possible. You also sent Jack to his place to check on him, instead of coming yourself— which wasn't like you.
Robby's eyes welled with tears, his heart heavy with an unexplainable grief. The idea of you going through a pregnancy alone was like he was being sawed in half.
Before Robby could even think properly, he was leaning against the wall for support— silent sobs leaving his mouth.
What if it was true? What could he possibly say to you to fix this?
He pulled his phone out, tears wetting the screen as he sent you a text.
Are you busy? I need to talk to you.
He stood in the empty and dark peds room, allowing himself to cry and think of you and the reality of his marriage.
If you didn't text back by the time that he was off, he'd stop by the house. He needed to get to the bottom of this, even if he was wrong.
You stood at the computer, trying to get through a chart as the twins kicked you. Your hand curled around your belly, your face scrunched in a pained expression.
That day had been slow, thankfully so. You didn't feel good at all, barely able to keep anything down and the twins were active.
You wanted to go home.
Your phone vibrated on the desk, a text from Mckay.
Have you talked to Robby?
You read the text and all you could do was roll your eyes, what did he have going on now?
You: I have not, not since he called a few days ago. Is he okay?
You went back to working on the chart, making sure that you didn't forget anything.
He just seems off. He was fine earlier, but he disappeared for a few minutes and came back looking sad. He looks like he's been crying.
You: He's naturally sad lol. I'm sure he'd text if anything was up.
That's fair.
Is there a chance that things between the two of you are on the mend?
You audibly laughed reading her text, Mckay was funny if nothing else.
You: absolutely not.
I was just curious. I hate not being able to bring up baby stuff when we talk at work.
You finished that chart and clicked over to the next one with a sigh.
You picked up your phone, glancing at the text.
You: I'm sure he'd somehow make the conversation depressing, my husband has a knack for that.
You replied, locking your phone and putting it back into your pocket.
All you wanted to do was get home, take a bath and relax. You were tired, your feet were sore, and you wanted to eat. You had too much on your plate to also add Robby and whatever he had bothering him.
Your shift ended, the moon high in the sky when you walked to the parking lot. You were leaving later than you had intended, a new patient taking most of your time.
Soon you'd be on maternity leave and away from work for the twelve weeks they allowed at your hospital. Even though you'd be taking care of two newborns, any time away from the hospital was appreciated. The job was draining and it didn't help that you were growing two small humans.
On your way home, you talked to Mckay and stopped at the local coffee shop for a medicine ball tea— hoping for some relief.
ꕀ
As you pulled into your garage, you immediately felt relaxed knowing that you had the next five days off.
Five days to organize the nursery, five days to sleep in, five days to not spend so much time on your feet.
You got out of your car and closed the garage, walking into your dimly lit house—making your way to the kitchen.
You put down your bags and slid off your shoes—leaning over the counter to turn on the lights, so that it wasn't so dark.
There Robby stood in the living room— a green longsleeve shirt, his hair slightly disheveled, and blue jeans on.
You screamed, clutching your chest and almost dropping your tea.
"Michael, what the fuck?"
"What are you doing? Why are you standing in the living room in the dark?"
For a second, you completely forgot about your obvious pregnant belly— your red shirt doing you no favors in hiding it.
Robby's eyes slowly flickered over your frame, a look of betrayal on his face— tears welling in his eyes at the devestating truth.
Langdon wasn't using, it was true.
Your free hand curled around your belly, your heart dropping when you realized.
"How far along are you?" He asked sternly with disbelief.
You glanced down at your pink striped socks, keeping your eyes off of him— because you admittedly felt guiltier than you had expected to.
"Robby.. I can—"
"How far along are you?" He interrupted, his voice raising.
"Almost six months."
He scoffed, his hand on the back of his neck.
"Six months.. and you didn't say a word to me?—"
"Frank told me at work."
Your brows furrowed, "Langdon?”
"Yeah, his wife saw you shopping for baby clothes." He gritted.
Fuck was all that you could think in that moment.
You sat your cup of tea down on the counter, "what was I supposed to say, Robby?—"
"Hmm?"
"Anything!" He yelled.
"No, you don't get to do that. You treated me like shit those last few months that you were here. I gave you the out that you wanted!"
"You gave me an out, yet you called me over and fucked me? Does that make any sense?" He mocked.
"I was hoping that you had changed, were willing to change— but I was wrong. I was clearly fucking wrong." You roared, the heat rising in your chest.
"I woud've.. to make this work, for you and the baby."
"Babies." You corrected.
His brows furrowed slightly, "what?"
"I'm pregnant with twins, a boy and a girl."
A tear streamed down his cheek.
"Two.. I'm going to have a son and a daughter." He spoke to himself, trying to process the news.
Seeing him try to come to terms with the news made you fight back tears.
It was never supposed to be that fucking hard or painful, you were supposed to be happy during your pregnancy. Not standing in the living room arguing with your husband.
"Were you ever going to tell me?" He sniffled.
You started to speak and then stopped, because the truth was that you didn't know. You had struggled with the news yourself and just didn't know when would be the right time to tell him.
"I know that I've fucked up, but I never knew that you felt like you couldn't trust me— not even with things like this."
"It was never about not trusting you, it was bout your refusal for help—"
"How can you raise two children when you cannot control your own emotions? when you snap with every little thing? Drop hints that you won't return from your sabbatical?"
His eyes met yours, a question behind them. He wanted to ask who told you that, but it had to be Abbot.
"Abbot and Mckay knew didn't they?"
You sighed, closing your eyes for a moment.
"Yes."
"God, I just don't even.. I don't even know what to say to you right now." He admitted.
You stepped closer to him, your belly even more visible in the light.
"I should've told you sooner.. I should've, but I hope you know that it was never out of maliciousness. I thought I was.. protecting you."
"Protecting me.." He repeated as if the words felt wrong in his mouth.
"This was cruel and you were never cruel, not to me or anyone. Anything could've went wrong and you hid this from me.."
Your lip quivered, tears streaming down your cheeks.
"I'm sorry.. I am."
There was an exhaustingly long beat of silence, the silence getting the best of both of you.
Robby walked closer to you, dropping to his knees in front of you— catching you by surprise.
His forehead rested against your belly, his hand coming to your hips.
"Forgive me.." He whispered against your belly, his tears wetting your shirt.
"I should've done better, listened to you, been nicer, been the husband that I was supposed to be—"
"I don't want to fight with you, baby."
Your placed your hand on his head, your fingers resting within his hair.
Maybe, that was what he needed. Maybe, that was his wakeup call.
"I embarrassed you and us, I let things get bad and I shouldn't have…Please, forgive me, baby."
"I forgive you. I forgive you, Michael." You stammered.
It was never about needing to forgive him, not really. You just wanted him to see someone and stop being so angry all the time— angry at himself and things that he cannot control.
Saying that you forgave him felt like a weight off your chest, like a release of weight that you didn't realize you were carrying.
He sobbed into your shirt, his hands rubbing your belly.
"Did I already fail them?"
You pulled away from him slightly, your eyes meeting his.
"You just found out about them today, but from the stories that I've told them—You're probably already their superhero." You smiled, wiping your tears.
Robby stood up, wiping his face and taking both of your hands into his.
"Let me fix this, baby. I don't want to carry on this way with you, I never did— but certainly not now."
"Michael—" You hesitated.
"I mean it. I won't lose another moment with them and not with you either, please."
"Being without you was the closest form to hell that I've experienced in my life. I don't want to lose you, ever again." He professed.
You nodded, your skin warm at the sound of his words. You felt like you did all over again on the night that he came over.
Robby pulled you into a gentle and unexpecting kiss, one of the twins kicking your belly.
"Ouch!"
Robby stared at you with worried eyes, "Did I do something wrong?"
"No, one of them kicked."
"Oh."
You brought his hand to your belly, hoping that he could also feel it.
They kicked again and Robby's face brightned, his heart turning into mush.
"I'm sure they'll love to have you talk to them, it's about time they hear a different voice from mine." You joked.
"I'm going to have an appointment scheduled first thing in the morning for a therapist." He promised.
"Okay."
This time for the first time in a long time, you wholeheartedly believed him.
"Well, I'm going to take a bath. I want to relax, my feet are killing me."
Robby titled his head with interest, his tongue swiping his bottom lip.
"Can I join you like I used to? I'll rub your feet."
You laughed, throwing your head back.
"Not so fast mister."
Robby picked you up off your feet while you laughed.
"Robby!" You shrieked.
"Well, the least I could do is carry you— since your feet hurt."
There was obviously still a long road ahead of you two and things were nowhere near perfect, however— it was a step in the right direction. A step that made you hopeful, hopeful for your marriage and babies.
"Y/N is a petite, bambi, innocent, bimbo, she threw her blonde hair into a messy bun as I stared at herself in the mirror with her blue eyes, dressed in tight skinny jeans and an oversized t-shirt."
After reading your pope and jack fic, I was wondering if you could do one where reader is a student doctor at the Pitt but is married to Pope who in this case could be like..jack’s nephew or smth..and he just gives off such Doberman energy when he comes to pick her up at the end of her shift oh and and you best believe he kind of just stares Robby down cos he knows how mean he can be to his wife in shifts.
Also I think Dana would be such a nice person to pope.
A good husband protects without biting
tags: andrew cody x fem!doctor reader, jack abbot x cousin-in-law!reader, jack and andrew are cousins, doberman energy andrew, guard dog andrew, andrew cody doesn't mess around, mean robby, protective jack, the pitt doesn't think andrew exists, 18+ MDNI
notes: thank you @mei-vis for requesting! I hope I did this ask justice! I chose for jack and andrew to be cousins instead of an uncle/nephew since I believe they look a bit too similar for that familial relationship!, like always if you'd like to be added to my permanent tag list, please comment here! please enjoy!
word count: 2.6k words
The end of your shift couldn’t come soon enough.
In the span of twelve hours, you’d been doused in bodily fluids twice, hit on by a creepy old drunk who couldn’t keep his hands to himself, passively dismissed by Robby after he deemed you “too slow” for a trauma (when in reality, the med student next to you was the one who wouldn’t hand you the damn tube), and had your lunch stolen when it clearly had your name written on it—four times might you add.
To top the whole very bad day off, your husband hadn’t responded to the messages you had sent hours ago asking if he’d be back in time to pick you up because the forecast called for rain, and like all bad days had gone, your car basically gave up the ghost the moment you parked it in the employee lot.
So, you were almost scrub-less, uncomfortable, embarrassed, and so starving you almost thought about paying an insane price for a small Uber-ed meal before you also realized that the app hadn’t saved your information and your card was currently sitting on the kitchen counter.
Just what you needed.
The groan, along with the rumbles of your stomach, caused many heads to turn.
“Is there a stampede in here? Or is your stomach in the process of eating itself,” Dana asked, though her eyes didn’t leave the nurses’ board.
Your head landed next to the keyboard with a loud thunk. “I think my stomach tried to eat itself a couple of hours ago before realizing that it was completely empty.”
“I saw you brought lunch. Where’d that go?”
If glares could put someone six feet under, the one you were giving your computer should have imploded it. “Currently being digested in the stomach of a med student.”
“Good Lord. You poor thing.”
“Tell me about it. I’d been dreaming of those leftovers since last night!”
Dana gave you a knowing look. “Did your husband cook it?”
“Yep.” Your chair squeaked as you leaned back. “And I didn’t even get to enjoy it for the second time. He’s going to be pissed.”
“Who’s going to be pissed?” Trinity asked, already leaning on the counter like getting closer to you would make the gossip flow over. “Cause if you’re talking about Dr. Robby, that ship sailed around 2:30.”
You closed your eyes and ran a hand down your face. “Trust me; I already know he’s pissed off at the world. I’ve been on the receiving end of that way too much today.”
She gave you a sympathetic wince. “I heard about that.”
“Who hasn’t,” you muttered with a harsh snort.
That was the other thing that had added to your humiliation. Robby hadn’t just quietly dismissed you or corrected you after the trauma, no, he rather loudly decided to spew his personal thoughts about your work ethic in front of not just your coworkers but also the patient’s family who were there for moral support. Blatant strangers had a front seat to watch your attending rip into you all while it hadn’t even been your fault.
Just thinking about it brought another heated flush up your neck.
“To answer your question, her husband’s the one who’s going to be pissed,” Dana filled her in while rewriting a name. “He’s very particular about who gets to eat his food.”
Another groan rumbled your chest. “Med student didn’t even return the Tupperware. Now he’s going to be extra pissed at that.”
For a small second, Trinity looked almost nervous. “Will you be okay?”
Her concern made a small feeling of comfort and pride bloom in your chest. If there was one person you could count on other than your family and Dana, it was Trinity, never hesitating to step in if she even thought someone didn’t feel safe. You shot her a grateful smile.
“Oh, I’ll be perfectly fine. He’ll be mad sure, but not at me. We’ll just pray that he won’t spot the student that did it.”
“Amen to that,” Dana muttered. “He’s like your personal guard dog.”
“Are we going to add that guy who tried to touch your ass earlier?” Trinity teased, and your eyes widened.
“Definitely.” You nodded along. “Might as well add Robby to it too. My husband isn’t that fond of him already. I just wish he’d respond to my messages.”
Dana gave you a knowing look. “He at work today?”
“Yeah. There was a problem with one of the houses a few hours out, and he left before I was even out of bed. Said there was a contract breach, kissed me good morning, and drove off.”
“That’s oddly sweet,” Trinity added.
You couldn’t help the fond smile that grew on your face. “Even made my coffee for me. I found it with one of those little post-it notes stuck to it.”
“Didn’t know he was into doing stuff like that,” Dana said with a small laugh.
“You know how he is,” you replied. “The man’s love language is acts of service.”
Trinity smiled. “What does he do for work?”
Your fingers found the keyboard again while you answered. “He’s a relator and contractor. Usually, he works from home, but like today, he sometimes has to go out and inspect the houses or make sure the paperwork is in order.”
“Sounds like you got yourself a stay-at-home husband.”
You couldn’t help but snort. “Yeah. He actually really likes to do the house work. Plus, when I’m home, all I’m doing is sleeping.” Your eyes caught your wedding band. “He’s really good to me. Plus, he’s Jack’s—”
“Ladies, if we have time to chat, we have time to work,” Robby’s voice interrupted the conversation, loud and on the very edge of condescending. “Especially you, Dr. Cody. Let’s focus on getting patients in and out instead of sitting around, yes?”
You swallowed down an annoyed sigh, instead choosing to stand up without a word. Hating the way you felt under Robby’s glare almost made you want to put in a two-week notice and move departments. However, emergency medicine was your life; it was the sole reason you met the people who quickly became your family, the reason you met your husband. Your fingers quickly found your wedding band, specially made of the number of diamonds that symbolized how long you and your husband had been dating before he proposed.
Grabbing another tablet quickly, you forced yourself to hold your head up high as you passed him. Robby wasn’t worth your fear or submission. Plus, it wasn’t like he never talked around; you’d caught him and the hospital’s case manager making small talk way too many times to count. The man was a hypocrite that couldn’t see past his own faults and projected them onto his employees.
By the time you rounded the corner, and Robby had vacated the station, Trinity leaned in toward Dana a bit more.
“Is there any way to contact her husband? She mentioned her car died, and it’s raining.” Trinity looked in the direction you had disappeared down. “If I were married and my boss talked to me like that, I’d want my partner to know.”
Dana had already picked up her personal cell after Trinity’s first question. “Oh, I’ll make sure he knows.”
_______________________
When you exited the patient’s room, you paused a few feet into the hallway, rubbed your eyes, and continued to stare at the nurses’ station.
Dana being there with Trintiy and Dennis was nothing out of the ordinary. However, the added presence of Jack Abbot and your husband was. You hastily crossed the gap between you and the station, concern etching itself in your eyebrows and lips.
“Andrew?” you called out. “What are you doing here?”
At the sound of your voice, Andrew Cody turned his head so rapidly that it added another wave of worry that he might have pulled something. He stayed still, even when you stopped in front of him, as your hands gently ran up his arms and stopped at his face all while the small group watched on with small smiles (from Jack and Dana) and genuine curiosity (from Dennis and Trinity).
“You’re supposed to be in Altoona right now. Did you get hurt?” you questioned when your eyes couldn’t find any visible injuries.
He stayed silent while his hands quietly found yours, fingers threading between the gaps and holding you steady.
“I’m fine,” he finally said, hazel eyes boring into yours. “Just missed you.”
A relieved exhale escaped from your lips. “Thank goodness. I was worried there for a second.”
His crooked teeth poked through a smile. “I could tell.”
You softly pushed him before taking his hands again. “Shut up. You went hours without responding and just show up at the end of my shift. God forbid I’m concerned for my husband.”
“See, man, I told you she’d do this,” Jack grumbled, patting Andrew slightly on the shoulder.
“Um, not to interrupt, but did Dr. Cody marry someone who looks exactly like Dr. Abbot?” Dennis squeaked out a question, obviously trying not to step over a boundary.
But like a sister, Trinity nudged him harshly with her elbow. “Use your brain, Huckleberry. It’s obvious they’re related somehow.”
The two continued looking between the Pitt’s night shift attending and your husband who looked like Jack if he were ten years younger.
“That’s what I was trying to tell you early, Trinity,” you said. “My husband is Jack’s cousin on their moms's side. Andrew, this is Dennis and Trinity.”
Andrew didn’t reach out to give them a handshake, but the appreciated nod he gave them was somehow enough. “She talks about you two a lot.”
Trinity looked smug by the news. “All good things I hope.”
“Definitely,” he answered. “I can tell she likes working with you two.”
“Which is more than he can say about Robby,” Dana muttered.
The change in Andrew, just by mentioning Robby, was so visceral that Trinity and Dennis were both shocked.
In the few moments, the two could see how soft this hunking-fridge-of-a-man was for you. They saw it in the way he was quick to hunch over slightly when you looked him over with worry. They noticed it in the way he held onto you when he reassured you that he was only there for her and not because he had gotten hurt. They noted the way his soft smile was only for you and not even for when his cousin jested with him.
Dana’s words from earlier rang in Trinity’s mind as she watched Andrew’s muscles tense beneath his polo.
He’s like your personal guard dog.
Andrew shifted his weight, shoulders now seemingly broader than they had been. “Did something happen today?”
Your bottom lip caught between your teeth. “It was nothing. He’s just being Robby.”
Surprisingly, Andrew’s eyes flitted over to Trinity like he knew she’d tell him exactly what he wanted to know. “What’d he do?”
Trinity looked at you once, and when you looked toward the floor, she answered. “He blamed her for a med student’s slow pace. Practically yelled at and belittled her in front of the other doctors in the trauma room and the patient’s family.”
Even Jack couldn’t hold back the wince splashing across his face at the news, mind already knowing that in five seconds, his cousin might be on a war path for his friend. However, all Andrew seemed to do was take in a deep breath and hold onto your hands like a tether.
“All right,” he finally said, body still tense. “Okay. Anything else I should know?”
“Someone took her lunch,” Dana added, drawing your eyes from the floor to her, hues flooding with betrayal.
Et tu, brute?
“Dana,” you hissed.
Andrew’s grip on your hands tightened.
In an almost attempt to throw more gas onto an already raging fire, Trinity ended with, “And she had a patient try to grope her earlier this morning.”
Andrew’s eyes closed slowly like he was bracing for a fit of rage to overtake his senses, his mind already racing with the fact that you probably hadn’t eaten, because when he stopped by the house to change, he saw your forgotten card. Add in you almost getting assaulted, and he was one wrongly pulled Jenga block from collapsing.
You closed your eyes and braced for impact, already feeling the brunt of the day push down on you. They only fluttered open when Andrew didn’t move, his chest the only thing heaving in an out and in motion. Somehow, that didn’t ease the queasy feeling bubbling beneath your skin. And at that moment, Robby decided to round the corner. Like most men, you guessed that he hadn’t picked up on the tension cloud that was currently circling around the station and—more importantly—Andrew’s head.
When Robby walked into his field of view, you swear you saw the lovely hazel of his eyes darken. It should have scared you how quickly Andrew could go from your sweet and doting husband to a very possessive animal, but instead, the change had you relaxing and relieved. If there was someone you could count on for anything no matter what, that person would always be Andrew.
And maybe (finally) Robby sensed enough tension, because his body went stiff after he looked up from the tablet in his hands and met Andrew’s eyes.
Trinity and Dennis really thought that your husband was going to stalk over there, throw a punch, menacingly bark curse words and insults at Robby (a man who had a few good inches to tower over Andrew), and walk back over like nothing happened. But when he stayed put, only giving a beady stare that never wavered, they realized that he didn’t even have to talk to Robby or punch him for his words to get across.
They knew that Andrew was making Robby uncomfortable by the way Robby shifted, the way he broke eye contact first, and the way he left the station looking like a dog with a tail between its legs.
Jack let out a low whistle. “Damn, that never gets old.”
Dana smirked. “He ever use that on you?”
“All the fucking time.” Jack scoffed. “Do you know how many family gatherings I spent trying to get away from those eyes.”
“We have the same eyes, asshole,” Andrew grumbled.
“But yours are scary as hell,” Jack shot back. “Might be a good time to say that my night shift needs another resident.”
“Fuck no,” Trinity instantly said. “You can’t have her, or we’d be left with him.”
Dennis nodded. “I’m in full agreement.”
Jack looked over at you expectantly but visibly deflated at the apologetic look you were giving him.
“Sorry, Jack, but I enjoy getting to spend my evenings at home.” You paused and smirked. “I know Samira’s been looking for a change of scenery if you want to ask her.”
The small crowd couldn’t help but smile or chuckle at the now vivid flush across Jack’s face as he tried to sputter out an answer.
“All right, get out of here kids before it looks like you’re staging a mutiny,” Dana said with a wave of her hands.
“Aye, aye, captain,” Trinity responded with a salute of her own.
Andrew grinned widely, finally showing the smile around more people than just you. “If we’re turning into pirates, Jack already has the missing-leg thing down.”
“Hey!”
You giggled loudly while Andrew wrapped an arm around your shoulders, bringing you into his side. Your hand gently rested against his chest as you hugged him back. He felt your body melt into his after he pressed a quick kiss to your temple.
“Ready to go home?” he quietly muttered just loud enough for you to hear. “Dana already gave me your bag.”
“Yeah,” you breathily sighed. “Let’s go before a trauma comes in, and I’m stuck in here until I wither away.
Andrew hummed. “We can’t have that now, can we?”
“Absolutely not. I still want to have leftovers at least one more time before I’m buried. And this time, I’m putting a padlock on the container.”
When Did You Get So Hot? - Animal Kingdom SMAU - PT. 7
+18 MDNI
pt. 6 / pt. 8
summary: deran wants the tea on reader and popes "date" (was it a date?)
content: pope cody x fem!reader, age gap (reader is around deran's age), lewd conversations, reader being an awkward mess, pope being pope, sugar daddy pope vibes lowkey
a/n: its finally time for the beefy chapter ive been talking about! this literally took FOREVER. ENJOY!!!!
Cath. She didn’t hate her, she was a nice woman, but what she did was envy her. The family she had, even though it wasn’t perfect she still had one, the house on the beach, the love Pope had for her. God did she wishes that it was her he loved. She could tell that Cath didn’t feel the same way about him, or maybe she did and was just really good at hiding it. Either way, it didn’t matter because she would never be the one that Pope holds to his heart the most.
The three years that he was in jail she wrote to him. She couldn’t visit him no matter how many times she tried so she settled for the next best thing. Letters. He didn’t ever write back which wasn’t surprising to her but she continued to write because she thought it would let him know that at least someone would be waiting for him when he got back.
Was she in love with him? Well if you were to ask her she would say no and that it was just a silly crush, but deep down she did. She just didn’t want to admit it. She had met Pope through Julia while in high school. She would be at the house all the time whether it was to hang out with Julia or because of a party. She had heard about Pope from Baz but she never took his words to heart because she thought he was a dick.
Sometimes she would be ditched by Julia to do god knows what. She could’ve just gone home of course but her home life wasn’t very good to her so she tried to stay out of her house as much as possible. So instead of going home she would spend her time with Pope. Well it took a while for an actual conversation to start between them but she didn’t mind.
Eventually once Julia, Baz and Pope had gotten expelled she didn’t see much of them after.
Often she and Pope would go to church together, but when he stopped going because of what she assumed was Smurf’s doing, she found other ways to hang out with him.
Once Cath had gone missing she could tell that there was something off. He was more tense than usual. He seemed bothered whenever she would be brought up by Baz, which wasn’t really uncommon considering he had liked her since their teen years then one day Baz had got together with her, but it was different this time. He looked sort of guilty, well I guess anyone would be like that if the person they loved went missing and were never found.
Then the thing between him and Amy. She had never met Amy, but from the few things he had said about her it sounded like he really liked her. After that night of the party where Lena had almost gotten hit by a car he hadn’t brought her up again.
Of course she was at least a bit jealous when he showed up to her place telling her about the date he and Amy had. She knew he was only supposed to get close to Amy for the job they were doing but she never expressed her feelings for him because he seemed genuinely happy and she didn’t want to ruin that for him.
The more he told her about Amy she couldn’t help but come to terms with what she already knew.
He never loved her like she loved him, and he never will.
Confessions of a Night Shift Nurse - The Pitt SMAU - PT. 13
+18 MDNI
pt. 12 / pt. 14
summary: some flirty texts between reader and abbot in the week leading up to their date
content: nurse!reader, fem!reader x jack abbot, age gape (reader is late 20s/early 30s), very lewd conversations, heavy flirting, sunshine and jack want each other so bad it makes them both look stupid, jack teasing reader, reader teasing jack.
a/n: we're almost to the end! their big date (and the heavy smut) are next chapter!!!!! there will be an epilogue after that chapter, and im considering maybe continuing the series with sporadic little text convos between reader & jack after they've already gotten together.
warnings . . . lewd conversations, curse words, mentions of the previous sexual scene (fingering), foot fetish talk again lmaoooo, making out, boob talk, sleep deprived so this is all i can think of will put more if needed. wc: 1.3k
You’re perched on Pope’s bed, back and posture stiff, unsure of how to act. Should you even been inside of his room without asking? What if he didn’t want to makeout with you tonight? Are you taking advantage of him? Does he even want to makeout with you at all?
What are you talking about? He fingered you. If he can shove his fingers in you, he can definitely push his lips to yours… right?
You drop yourself dramatically onto his bed with a loud groan, your mind racing. What if? Why? Why not? Will he? Won’t he? It won’t stop.
“You look like a fish out of water.” His familiar voice has you sitting up, eyes wide in shock.
“Geez,” you huff, embarrassed by the way you were flopping around in his perfectly made bed. Which is now unmade. “I need you to get louder shoes. Ones that squeak. Or the light up ones so I know when you’re coming.”
He shrugs, leaning against the shut door of his bedroom. “How else am I supposed to catch you doing weird shit?”
“Haha.” You deadpan. “Where were you? I’ve been waiting here forever.”
“Handling something.”
You grin, leaning back on your arms. “Oooooh, did you beat up your brother for me?” It’s a tease. You don’t truly believe he’d get into a fight with his brother over you.
You may joke like you are, but you’re not stupid. The web of odd familial ties in the Cody family are… borderline incestuos. Weird. Confusing. And you don’t doubt that it’s all Janine Cody’s fault. She has a way of making anyone in a room with her feel powerless. You see it with the gardeners she watches over as they work, the way she speaks to her sons, even her lawyer who isn’t around often, but you’ve seen a few times.
Conversing with the woman feels like she’s ripping your chest open and grabbing at everything she can, inspecting you. As terrible as it makes you feel, you try to push that back on your schedule for Lena until the very last second, even to the point where Lena can’t see the woman from the constant activities you take the little girl to.
“No.” Is his lacking response.
You sigh dramatically, “and here I thought you were my knight in shining armor.”
“I’m not that.”
“Clearly.”
The silence isn’t awkward but the way his hands are rubbing at his jeans, tells you that he does believe it to be so. You stand, tugging at your t-shirt to fall over your body. “So, you—”
“Do you think we can reschedule?” His voice sounds almost shaky. Almost, not quite nervous, more ashamed. He clears his throat, “I don’t think I'm up for—“
You nod, immediately feeling the guilt eat away at you. “Of course, Pope.” You take a step back, sitting back down on the bed, afraid to make him feel afraid. “You don’t even have to makeout with me at all. I was only joking. Well… half-joking.”
He sighs, bothered by your words. “I didn’t say I didn’t want to makeout with you. Just… another day.”
“I didn’t say that you didn’t—“
“Stop talking.”
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t think I want to makeout with you anymore.” He admits.
“Jesus.” You cackle, “what’s up your ass?”
“You.”
“Oh, baby, I wish I was.” You get up off the bed, making a thrusting motion with your hips, hands out like you’re holding onto somebody. “Get all up in there.”
He grimaces, “that’s disgusting.”
“Fine.” You stop, “I’ll leave.”
“You should.” He agrees. He doesn’t move off the door, still pressed up against it.
It’s impossible to hold back your grin. “You gonna let me out?”
He doesn’t speak. His eyes are on you in that intense manner he usually carries. The constipated look, Nicky would say.
“Hello?” You tease, “anyone in there?”
“Fuck it…” he breathes low, cutting the distance between you in two steps. His hands are on either side of your face, pulling you into him. And his lips are on yours.
You don’t spare a second, hands falling to his waist, face tilting to deepen the kiss, noses nudging as you do so. And he delivers on your wish. The kiss is hot and heavy, tongue lapping into your mouth as the back of your knees push against his soft bed. Your hands move from his sides to his chest, then back down to the bottom of his shirt, urging him to remove it.
He pulls his lips from yours with a loud smack, “no,” he shakes his head, removing your itching fingers from his shirt. “Not that.”
You groan, leaning your forehead to his chest. “Fine. Can I dry hump you at least?”
His eyebrows furrow, “are we teenagers?”
You scoff, lifting your head to eye him. “Dry humping is a lost art. I’ve made it my duty to bring it back to light. Think about it. The act is—“
“Shut up.” He groans, annoyed as he grabs your chin and presses his lips to yours again. One of his hands lowers to your waist, down to your hip, and ends at your thigh, gripping your leg high up on his leg.
“Pope!” You squeal when he drops you onto his bed. “What the fuck?!”
“What?” He shrugs, not caring. “Swear you told me that you like it when a man manhandles you.”
“Yeah, I like it when they grope my ass or spin me to push me up against a surface, not throw me like a ragdoll!”
“Miscommunication.” His tone is bored as he grabs your hips, pulling you to lay atop of him, lips meeting yours again.
You pull from him, sitting up. “Can I take my shirt off?” You ask breathily.
“W-what? Why?”
You shrug, “want you to admire my boobs.”
He looks bewildered, eyes wide and shocked as he looks up at you. “Don’t look so surprised.” You scoff, “I love my boobs. All my friends have seen them.”
“Wha—“ you tug your shirt off, left in your ugly sports bra.
“Oh my god, wait!” You cover his eyes with your hands.
He flinches, but doesn’t push your hands away. “What? What’s wrong?”
“My bra is ugly.” You groan. “Pretend what you saw was sexy lingerie.”
He doesn’t speak for a moment, lying back with his eyes covered by your hands. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“I’ve had this bra since I was a freshman.”
“… in college?”
“No.”
“Okay.” He admits, “that’s kinda gross.”
You scoff, moving your hand from his eyes to pinch his nose. “It is not. I wash it regularly and I’ve only had to stitch one slit since then. And bras are expensive. You can only talk shit if you buy me new ones.”
“I will.”
“Shut up.”
“I will. What’s your size?”
“Big as fuck.”
He scoffs, moving your hand from his eyes, sitting up and moving you to straddle his lap as he sits on the edge of the bed. His big hands are gripping your hips, securing you on him. Without skipping a beat, “take it off.”
You don’t hesitate to tug the piece off, tits spilling out for him. You hear the way his breath hitches, eyes dancing on your chest. He won’t look away, even when you wiggle on his lap. “Hello? My face is up here.” You sing, desperate to get him to look at you. “You know, this is a lot more than a sloppy makeout. If I were a freaky person, I would say you’re trying to sl—“
“Oh, god…” he breathes, moving you off of his lap and getting up off the bed himself.
You’re scared, watching him carefully as you sit on his bed, tits out. “A-are you okay?” You ask, eyes searching his body for any sign of discomfort.
“Y-yeah, I’m fine.” He’s turning his body away from you, facing the bedroom door. “You should— you should go.”
But you’re too concerned to follow his wishes. Instead, you sit up and reach over to him, noticing the way his body is shaking. “Pope…?” You place your hand on his bicep, desperate to help him.
He flinches away, “just go.”
authors note . . . to my big bitches (me) he can and will toss you around. don’t let no twig man stop u
When Did You Get So Hot? - Animal Kingdom SMAU - PT. 6
+18 MDNI
pt. 5 / pt. 7
summary: reader needs a ride and has to ask pope for help
content: pope cody x fem!reader, age gap (reader is around deran's age), explicit emoji usage, mentions of smoking weed, reader continuing to be scared of pope
a/n: we've got a cliffhanger here! the next chapter is a beefy one 😈 (i almost wasnt able to fit all the text convos in there lol). also!!! the picture i used for the nails isn't meant to indicate reader's skin color, its just supposed to be an idea for the nails.
Goodbye / Means that you're losing me for life / Can't call it love then call it quits / Can't shoot me down then shoot the shit / Did you forget that it was you who said / Goodbye / So you don't get to be the one who cries / Can't have your cake and eat it too / By walking out that means you choose / Goodbye
Overview: You loved Andrew, even if that meant accepting he would always be in love with someone else. But things changed between you before he went to jail. You thought that maybe you finally meant something. Then you get the letter he'd meant to send to Cath and you have to accept that he never saw you as anything but an easy lay.
You left the Codys behind years ago. Now, Pope's at your door and you don't know what to do with the story he's telling you.
wc: 9.2K
the end of my extravaganza
The first time it happened, you were at Andrew’s house. Smurf had been pissed at the boys for a reason you can’t even remember. So they’d raided their brother’s house, used his pool, and thrown a party he hadn’t realized was happening until he got home with you.
You’d been out shopping with him all day. You were trying to help him find furniture to make his sterile house feel like a home.
You’d laughed when you saw his brothers abusing their privileges and smoking by his pool. It had cut off when you saw how still he’d gone at the mess they’d left. With a sigh, you took the shopping bags from his hands and walked into his living room.
“I hate when they do this,” he muttered, and you didn’t respond, knowing he wasn’t really talking to you. Just out loud so he could try to regulate himself before he got really angry.
When he stayed quiet too long, you looked up and found him standing by the island. Face pinched with as close to visible anger as you’d seen in a while.
“Smurf will forgive them soon,” you reassured. His eyes shot up to yours, and you offered a weak smile. “The novelty of raiding their big brother’s house will wear off.”
Andrew rolled his eyes, and you bit back a smile as he walked over to help you with the bags. “I think that couch you ordered will look really nice with the blankets you got,” you told him, cutting off the tags to throw them in the wash.
“You picked them,” he reminded you, eyes darting up to meet yours before looking away. You hummed to yourself, a proud smile on your face as you realized that your touch would always be a part of what he called home.
The peaceful bubble you’d surrounded yourself with shattered as his sliding glass door opened. “Oh.” Your shoulders tensed as you recognized the voice. “You’re home.” Cath offered a stilted smile to Andrew as he froze where he was standing.
You walked out of the laundry room and shot her a grin you hoped passed as friendly and not sick to your stomach. “We went shopping today. I’m trying to make this place look less like a psych ward.”
Cath’s eyes narrowed as you loaded Andrew’s new dishes into the dishwasher. He remained still beside you, fist clenched on the granite counter while he looked anywhere but at Cath.
“I didn’t realize you moved in,” she offered, something about her tone making you defensive. When you looked up, her brows were raised, a knowing look on her face that needled at your skin.
“She didn’t,” Andrew interjected before you could. Your jaw snapped shut with a click as Cath scoffed.
“I figured,” she muttered, cutting you a look that had you clenching your fists so you didn’t hit her.
The sliding door opened again and Craig lumbered in, brows raising when he saw the stand-off happening. He let out a low whistle, wet feet slapping across the floor as pool water dripped off him.
“What’s going on?” He chuckled, the shithead knowing exactly what was happening.
He took a drag from the blunt in his hand, grin widening when he saw how Andrew’s jaw clenched at the smoke billowing in his house. “Want some?” He offered, holding it out.
You took it before Andrew could, needing something to calm you down. “You know he’s a dick about this shit,” you snapped, taking a long drag.
It was cruel, you knew that. But nobody ever claimed hanging around the Cody men made someone less emotionally volatile.
You headed toward the door, stripping off your clothes. You’d learned a while ago that it was better to just keep a bathing suit on underneath if you were hanging out with Andrew that day. You usually ended up at the pool or the beach; there was little in between.
Craig chuckled behind you as you walked outside. “Yeah, he’s the dick,” he muttered. You forced yourself to ignore the dig and headed down to the pool. You threw yourself onto the chair closest to Deran. He tended to just leave you alone, and his typically miserable demeanor deterred others from approaching, as well.
Sucking in a sharp breath, you clenched your eyes shut and tried to pretend you were just tanning. Of course, Deran decided today was the day to test out being chatty. “How was the little shopping spree with Pope?”
Rolling your eyes, you tilted your head to look over at him. There was a knowing smirk on his face that had you tensing up. “Fine,” you grit out, hoping he might take the hint.
“You run into Cath?” He taunts, clearly knowing the answer. The Cody family skill seems to be pissing you off.
Flicking your sunglasses up, you shoot him a glare. “What’re you getting at, Deran?”
He shrugs and relaxes back on his chair. “That my brother’s a fucking idiot,” he shoots back, tone casual.
“Am I that obvious?”
The snort he lets out is an answer enough. With a small smile, you lean back on the chair and shake your head. “I don’t get it, man,” Deran continues; clearly, he’s taken something that’s loosened his tongue. He’s not typically cold toward you, but the pair of you aren’t exactly close.
“Get what?” you mutter, trying to relax the tenseness in your muscles.
“You hang around him all the time. Put up with all his weird shit. You even do fucking shopping trips together.” You peek an eye open and catch him shaking his head in disbelief. “Cath can’t even look him in the eye.” He scrubs a hand down his face. “I don’t know what goes on in his head.”
“I don’t think anyone does,” you scoff, biting back the burn rising in your throat.
“No, but you’ve come the closest.” You don’t think Deran understands just how much it hurts hearing him say all of this. It’s easy enough, lying to yourself and pretending you’re not obvious. That the reason Andrew doesn’t reciprocate is that you haven’t shown him how you feel.
But when Deran- hell, when even Craig picks up on your hints- you know it has nothing to do with how obvious you are and everything to do with the fact that you are simply not the woman he wants.
A minute later, a shadow descends over you. Frowning, you look up and see Andrew hovering, mouth pinched as he stares. Your nose wrinkles at the smell of Craig’s weed wafting off him.
“Did you smoke?”
He nods and you frown. “You don’t smoke,” you point out. Andrew takes the conversation as an invitation to perch at the end of your chair.
“Why not?” He shrugs and it only serves to confuse you further. He holds the blunt out to you. You suck your teeth, but it only takes a second for you to accept. Some ridiculous part of you thinks about how his lips had been wrapped around it only a second before as you take a puff.
That’s how it happened the first time. You’d been pissy about his infatuation with Cath. He’d probably been hurt by a comment you hadn’t meant. You got high off weed, and you’re sure Craig had laced it with something else. The next morning, your head felt fuzzy, and memories of the day before came back to you slowly.
It had taken you longer than you’d like to admit to realize there was an arm slung around your waist. Then, Andrew had woken up, both of you frozen as you realized what you’d done the night before.
“Holy shit,” you whispered, sheets pulled up around your naked chest as you stared down at your lap.
Andrew flexed his hands, eyes not meeting yours as he glared at his comforter. “I don’t remember,” he muttered.
You shook your head, “I don’t either,” but it was undeniable, considering that was your underwear thrown on his floor.
“We should try again.” Your head whipped up and you ignored how it made your vision swim. He held your gaze, face deadly serious. Your jaw dropped, lips parting as you struggled for words.
“What?” You squeaked out.
“We should try again,” he repeated, just as blunt as he was the first time around. “Neither of us remembers anything.” You don’t know why you almost said no. Almost denied what you’d wanted since the day you met him. But something seemed to think this wasn’t right.
Maybe you wanted it to be more romantic. Or for this to have happened after a date when you were actually sure he really cared about you as more than just a quick lay. But a part of you, deep down, knew that was likely to never happen. So you’d nodded, eyes closing as he dipped his head, lips meeting yours hesitantly.
It only took a slight tilt of your head, hands dropping the sheets from your chest as you moved toward him, for him to fully give in. His hands gripped your waist, tugging you onto his lap as you slung your arms over his shoulders. That’s how the first time you actually remember happened.
And then, it kept happening. Your friendship continued as it always had. You’d go out for lunch and dinner. Breakfast sometimes if you stayed the night.
The pair of you might go shopping for his new house or just to get away from his mother. Occasionally, it ended with sex. But that wasn’t always consistent.
It both hurt and was reassuring. On the one hand, you wished he would want you as much as you wanted him. Not just when he needed a moment of reprieve.
But, at the very least, that meant he didn’t just see you as some sex toy now. He still cared about you the same way he did before. You’re not sure if it made you happy or upset how little the sex changed your relationship with Andrew.
When it did happen, you’d pretend he wasn’t thinking about another woman. That it was just you in his mind, that he was okay, that it was you in his arms and not Cath. You could lie to yourself that it didn’t bother you. That you were okay with this as long as you had some piece of him.
It was never enough to stop the hurt from seeping through.
You remember one time, a few months after this new thing with Andrew started, Smurf invited you out. It was clear enough that Smurf didn’t like you. But she hadn’t minded as much when you were just an occasional presence in her house.
However, when you and Andrew got more physical, you were at her place a lot more than you had been before. The sex had changed little about your relationship except that you became clingier than you would have liked to be.
You started hanging around with him more, waiting for that little extra bit of attention he occasionally spared you. It was pathetic; you knew that, but you were hopeless when it came to Andrew. You always had been.
His arm was slung around you while you watched some brutal animal documentary on some beast called a Shoebill. You’d been cringing at the way it was staring down the lens of the camera when Smurf had walked in.
“Well,” she rasped, a tight smile on her face. “Isn’t this cute?”
Andrew’s arm had tensed around you as he drew you closer, eyes pointedly kept on the screen. Her glare narrowed as she walked down the steps to the living room. “You’ve been around a bit more, hun.”
You shifted uncomfortably under her stare, hand tightening in Andrew’s shirt as you shrugged, offering a half-hearted smile. “I guess so.”
Her head tilted and she kept walking until she was standing just right to block the TV. “Are you two finally dating?”
“No,” Andrew was quick to answer. You bit your lip, swallowing down the hurt as you tried to shift away. He didn’t seem to notice, his arm just as tight around you as he straightened up.
“We’re not dating,” he doubled down, and you resisted the urge to crawl away and hide in some dark corner.
Smurf hummed, clearly unconvinced. “‘Course not,” she reassured, her voice sickeningly sweet. Her attention drifted back to you.
You grit your teeth, pretending like you weren’t just the slightest bit afraid. Not necessarily of her, but of the hold you knew she had on Andrew. It wouldn’t take much for her to wrench the two of you apart.
“You have plans this Saturday, sweetie?”
You grew cold as Andrew withdrew his touch. He leaned forward, his glare steady on his mother, and you frowned. “Don't,” he warned, his lips a tense line of irritation.
Her gaze snapped to his, brows furrowing with consideration before she redirected her attention. “Well?”
“Uh,” you swallowed roughly and spared Andrew a glance before shaking your head. “No, no plans.”
“Perfect,” she hummed. “You can join Pope and me then.”
“Smurf,” he tried again, getting to his feet. You stared up at him in surprise. He didn’t typically butt heads with her like this.
“That’s enough, baby. Don’t be rude.” Smurf fixed him with a firm look before stalking back out of the room. Your brows furrowed as you waited for him to sit back down. Instead, he glared down at the coffee table, fists clenched at his sides.
“Andrew,” you tried, getting to your feet. You reached for his arm, but he jerked away.
“Let’s go,” he demanded, already heading to the front door. You followed after him, but he didn’t give you any more answers. Just drove you to his house.
He still seemed out of character when he took you to his bed that night. Strangely desperate, more handsy than usual. Like he was afraid you might slip away in the middle of the night, change your mind about the whole deal.
Like you ever would. The idea was laughable.
Andrew drove you on Saturday. To where, you couldn’t say. You got lost when paved roads turned to gravel, and it started to look like he was driving you out to some warehouse to be murdered in.
When he’d stopped on a random cemented piece of land with trucks and bikes scatteringly parked, you almost didn’t get out. But you trusted him. As much as you probably shouldn’t. So, you’d let him open your door, help you out of the car, and followed behind.
He didn’t speak. He hadn’t the whole morning. Just kept his eyes pointed anywhere but your face. Still, he seemed to linger more than normal. Hand staying wrapped around yours. Walking closer than he typically does.
The odd behavior, even from an already odd man, had you on edge. Smurf being behind this whole thing didn’t help soothe you at all. No, the closer you got to what sounded like loud, drunken cheering, the more your stomach soured.
“When are you going to tell me what we’re doing?”
Andrew paused, head dipping between his shoulders as he sucked in a sharp breath. You waited with bated breath, the prolonged silence making you antsy to just get the hell out of there. “I need you to-”
“There you are!” Smurf walked up, a malicious grin on her face. Her oversized sunglasses hid her eyes, but you still felt the ill intent in her gaze.
“Here I thought you weren’t going to show. I should’ve known better.” She reached forward and squeezed Andrew’s shoulder, drawing him away from you as she draped herself over him. Your nose wrinkled with poorly hidden disgust. “My baby boy doesn’t disappoint.”
You offered a weak chuckle to try to disguise the visceral hatred you felt toward the woman. It only got worse when you saw how Andrew couldn’t meet your eyes, unable to get out from under her touch.
It didn’t matter if it was a stranger, a friend, even her own daughter; Smurf didn’t play nice with other women. Desperate to be the only one in her boys’ lives. Whatever she had planned for you today was certain to be an attempt at kicking you out of Andrew’s.
Sucking in a sharp breath, you motioned for her to lead the way. You were determined not to let her win this time.
Andrew needed a win; you weren’t about to be another disappointment.
Though that conviction of yours weakened the closer you got to the cheering. It was gone by the time you realized what exactly she was having him do today. Inside a metal cage, two men were beating each other bloody, the people watching screaming insults as cash was traded between different hands.
“God dammit,” you muttered, ripping your gaze away at the sound of a wet crunch as one of the men dropped to the ground.
“Weak stomach?” Smurf taunted, shoving Pope forward before he could say anything to you. A burly man covered in tattoos jerked him forward by the neck, bending to whisper something in his ear.
You bit your lip and turned toward Smurf. She had seated herself in a foldable chair. It could have been confused for a throne with how comfortable she looked in it. “No,” you responded, refusing to let her twisted little games beat you out.
“You’ll have one by the end,” she promised, taking a swig from her flask as she turned her attention toward the cage match. Seeing as she hadn’t deigned to provide you a place to sit, you moved closer to the crowd. You weren’t keen on being so close to her, anyway. You’d rather be in the spray-zone of blood than have to stomach her company much longer.
Pope walked into the ring, knuckles wrapped and eyes boring only into his opponent. He didn’t look outside the cage, not to you, not to his mother. You supposed it was for the best that neither of you got in his head while he was beating another man to a pulp.
You closed your eyes for a moment, jumping as a bell rang and the small crowd started cheering. You kept them closed, right up until you heard the first sound of flesh breaking against flesh. With a rough swallow, you forced yourself to look as Andrew was shoved into the metal chain, ducking just before the other man’s fist connected with his face.
Taking a step back, you tried not to grimace as he spit blood onto the cage floor. You could do this for him. You could handle a little while of blood and violence, if only to make sure Smurf doesn’t get to enjoy the victory of chasing you away.
Nails biting into your palms, you forced yourself to be still. To not react to the blood and teeth that went flying. Or the way you could already see welts and bruises forming along Andrew’s ribs. You made your way through it, right up until the end of the match, when Andrew was standing over the other man, chest heaving and bare chest covered in marks that made you hurt for him.
Then, in your peripheral, you saw Smurf walking up to the man running the match. Her gaze met yours as she whispered something to him. Your heart dropped as you realized she wasn’t going to let this stop until you or Andrew tapped out.
Head whipping back to him, you felt yourself go light-headed as an even bigger man than the last walked in. He hardly waited for the bell to ring before he was swinging at Andrew. You watched as he dropped to the ground, shaking the ringing from his ears as he ducked away from another punch.
You didn’t want to give Smurf the satisfaction of seeing you run scared. But you also weren’t going to be the reason Andrew was beaten bloody just so she could prove a point. With the best terrified expression you could muster, you went running, ignoring the barb of fury as Smurf smirked, completely victorious. You didn’t stop until you reached Andrew’s truck.
Guilt twisted your stomach into knots. He might not have been looking at you, but it wouldn’t take long to realize you were gone. You knew him, knew that he would be quick to assume the worst. But that was better than having to watch him lie bloody in the cage.
With a sharp breath, you leaned against his truck, head tipped back as you waited for this to be over. It took about another half hour before you saw him approaching. His head was down, pace furious as he undid the wrap around his knuckles.
You jolted up, lips pinched as your stomach twisted. He stopped short when he finally saw you waiting, and you offered a tentative smile that probably read more like a grimace. His brows furrowed as he closed the distance between you. Hands flexing at his sides, you felt like he wanted to reach out; maybe you were projecting, but you took the leap anyway.
“How bad does it hurt?” You asked, taking his hand in yours and frowning at the split skin of his knuckles.
“I thought you left,” he muttered, stepping even closer.
You already knew he would expect the worst, but the lack of faith still hurt. “Smurf clearly wanted me gone. I figured she’d be done with it if she thought I ran scared.”
“But you didn’t.” He stared at you, eyes narrowed like he didn’t quite believe you.
“I didn’t,” you smiled softly. “Now, keys, I don’t trust that you don’t have a concussion.” He didn’t argue as he placed them in your palm, leaning into you when you reached up to press a kiss to the unmarred spot on his cheek. “Let's get you home,” you murmured, rounding the front of his truck.
The ride, like that morning, was quiet. You didn’t push, letting him stew until you pulled up his driveway. “Come on,” you motioned him inside, guiding him toward his bathroom so you could clean him up a bit.
He took a seat on the rim of his tub, eyes intent on tracking you as you dug around under the sink for the first-aid supplies. You spent so much time at his house that it was practically more familiar to you than your own place.
It was when you were kneeling down in front of him that he finally spoke. “I didn’t want you to see that,” he admitted, eyes glaring down at his bathmat. Your hand hovered over his cheek.
You dipped your head to meet his gaze and grinned. “Why? Because that second guy knocked you on your ass?” He let out a little huff and you figured that’s the closest to a laugh you’d get today. “I’m not scared of you, Andrew,” you promised, putting the alcohol swab to the side for a moment.
When he still wouldn’t meet your eye, you lifted your hand, careful of his cuts as you cupped his cheek. Gently, you tilted his face toward yours, imploring him to just listen to you, for once. His eyes darted between yours, expression tightening before it slowly softened. He nodded, letting his weight rest in your hand.
You stayed the night, slept beside him, his arms tight around you while you held him back. You didn’t have sex, but you think that was better than if you had. Andrew needed something gentle in his life. A relationship that gave without anything expected in return. You never had any problems being that for him.
“So,” you glanced around the restaurant, feeling more than a little out of place. “Why the change of plans?” You turned your attention back to Andrew, hoping you didn’t look as uncomfortable as you felt.
Tonight, you were supposed to have dinner at his place. Possibly convince him to watch the new horror movie that just came out so you wouldn’t have to suffer through it alone. Instead, he’d told you to wear something nice and dragged you to a restaurant so fancy there was a chandelier over your table.
It should be telling you don’t belong here if you think a chandelier is the epitome of class.
Nails drumming along the table, your eyes dart between the nicely dressed couples and waiters with better posture than your own. The Codys had money, sure, but that didn’t mean class. And you’d known Andrew before they’d made a name for themselves. This wasn’t your sort of place, and you knew it wasn’t Andrew’s.
“I thought you might like it,” Andrew answered, his voice low as he stared down at the menu. Your brows furrowed, but you decided not to push. He was clearly trying to make an effort. You didn’t want him to feel bad because the judgmental glares of the staff made you want to crawl out of your skin.
“Well,” you hummed, struggling for a kind word. “It’s nice,” you settled on lamely.
His brows rose and you let out a stiff chuckle. “You don’t like it.” You must have an even worse poker face than you thought.
Shrugging, you lean back in your seat. “It just doesn’t seem like your sort of place.”
Andrew frowns and you worry you might have offended him. “I thought you’d be sick of my sort of place.”
Scoffing, you shake your head. “Why would you think that?”
He lets out a hefty sigh, hand scrubbing along his jaw. “It’s just something Baz told me.” Well, his first mistake was ever taking advice from Baz. “When he and Cath started dating, he said she didn’t like just hanging out at the house all the time.”
Jaw tightening, you suck your teeth, forcing your face to remain kind. “I’m not Cath,” you remind him, though you’re sure you’re both bitter about that fact.
His eyes shoot up to meet yours, his frown deepening at the expression on your face. “I know that-”
“Then don’t try to treat me like her,” you cut in, your tone far more venomous than you’d meant. Andrew draws back, and you suck in a sharp breath. “I want to leave,” you tell him, tossing your napkin on the table and finding it difficult to meet his eyes. You don’t wait for him, getting to your feet and collecting your bag before you’d even had a chance to order.
Andrew hurries to follow behind you as you storm out of the restaurant. You know you’re too sensitive about these things. But one night with him- where you might even be able to pretend you’re on a date like a proper couple. Is that so much to ask for? Just a night without the reminder you’re barely even a second choice.
Deciding you need to calm down, you walk off the sidewalk of the restaurant and head down toward the beach. Andrew catches up to you quickly, hovering at your side, unsure what to say. You grab hold of his arm, leaning against him while you undo the straps of your heels.
“Let’s walk,” you mutter, caught off guard when he reaches over to take your shoes from you. Lifting the hem of your dress, you trudge through the sand. Andrew doesn’t shake off your hold, just lets you use him for balance.
It’s not uncommon that he allows you to be touchier with him than most people. But he’s not usually this tolerant. He already doesn’t like the feel of sand, the way it pools in his shoes and inevitably ends up trailing through his home.
Normally, he’d have gone stiff, trying to silently tell you to back off. But he’s leaning into you know, hand drifting along your waist as you listen to the soft crash of waves in the distance.
“I’m sorry.” He finally breaks the silence.
You bite your lip and shake your head. “I shouldn’t have just left like that. It was nice,” you reluctantly admit. He frowns down at you. With a huff, you clarify, “The restaurant idea was nice. It just wasn’t for me.” It was for the woman you actually want to be with.
Andrew just nods, gaze pensive as he stares off into the dark waters. “I wasn’t…”
“Hm?”
He shakes his head, hand tightening around your waist as he leads you back toward his home. “Never mind,” he mutters, brows furrowed as he stares down at the sand. You frown but decide it’s better not to push. You’ve already gotten your feelings hurt once tonight; no need to risk any more.
When you make it to his home, you almost debate asking for a ride home. You’re not hungry anymore; you don’t want to watch a stupid movie with him. He’s made it more than clear that all you are is a placeholder until he gets what he really wants. Now, all you want is to just be left alone.
“Come on,” he mutters, already opening the door before you muster the backbone to leave. You hover at the threshold and he pauses, turning back with a frown. “What’s wrong?”
You almost back up, almost leave. Instead, you shake your head. “Nothing, never mind. I’m just tired,” you whisper, following after him. The door closes and his hand finds its way to your back.
He turns you to face him, calloused hand drifting up to push back a strand of hair. You’ve been conditioned to lean in just as he starts to. To push closer as he wraps his arms around you and tugs you toward him.
You wrap your arm around his shoulders, head tilting as his lips brush softly against yours. Once, twice, you wait for the third pass, when he lets go of his reservations. Grips you tighter and pushes you toward his bedroom, hungry for something only you can give him.
But it never comes. He stays soft, hands drifting up and down your sides as he holds you by the door. You’re not complaining, enjoying the tender intimacy of the moment. He never changes pace, just takes his time, savors the moment. And you.
You could get used to feeling so desired by him as he slowly begins leading you back to his bedroom. It’s not that he’s never like this. Occasionally, you get moments of softness with him. But this is different, somehow. Like he really means it, and isn’t just giving you gentleness as a courtesy.
His hand works on the zipper of your dress, fingers dragging along your spine as you slip your arms from the sleeves. It falls down your body, and he lifts you, picking you up before it trips you. You tighten your legs around him, smiling when he drops you on his bed.
It’s different that night, the way he is with you. You could almost pretend he loves you just the same as you love him. Pretend that this wasn’t his own desperate need for connection with someone else. Allowing the illusion, just once, couldn’t hurt.
That was the last night you were together. You didn’t know- he didn’t tell you- about the bank job he and his family had planned for the next day. You couldn’t have known how badly it would’ve gone, that Andrew would end up taking the fall for Baz.
Because Baz has a family, Deran had explained afterward. Pope doesn’t have anyone.
He had you. Clearly, though, you didn’t count for anything in their eyes. You almost wonder if Baz had messed up on purpose. If he’d done this to get Andrew out of the way so he could take over. It wouldn’t surprise you, given how quick he was to take Andrew’s place as the eldest son.
What shocked you the most, though, was that Smurf just let him. Baz wasn’t even hers and she still let him slip into Andrew’s place. Like he’d never been there at all.
You weren’t allowed at the trial; you’re not even sure if you’d want to be there. But Smurf had made it abundantly clear that with Andrew gone, your place in her home would soon become nonexistent.
You still hung around, mainly with Deran. Purely for updates on Andrew. Try as you might, each attempt at reaching out seemed to go ignored or just not work out. You sent letters. A lot of letters. At least twice a month.
Sometimes, you couldn’t believe yourself. Andrew had been sentenced to six years. What? Were you just going to wait around for him that long? How much more pathetic could you possibly get?
A lot more, you thought to yourself, penning another letter for the third time that month.
Andrew,
I really don’t know if you’re getting any of these. I hope you are. Smurf had me taken off the visitors list, so I can’t come and see you now. I swear, I would if she didn’t hate me so much.
I’m sorry. Sorry I can’t see you. And sorry about how your family’s acting. They sold your house. I was going to try to buy it with the money you gave me, but Smurf figured out it was me and stopped the deal.
There’s no guarantee when they’ll let you go. But whenever you’re free, wherever I am, there’ll be a place for you. I’ll leave my key in the plant hanging by my door if you get there before me.
You continue on, talking about your life, struggling to decide whether or not you should ask about his. He’s in prison; you doubt there’s anything particularly exciting he’d like to share. If there was, surely he would have responded by now.
But he never did. For two years, you kept up your letters. Kept up hope that, despite the fact he wasn’t responding, some part of him still cares for you. Deran had told you no one else was getting any letters either. But you didn’t think they were sending any or reaching out, either.
It shouldn’t have been, but it was astounding just how little his brothers seemed to care about his absence. If anything, they seemed more at ease. Big brother wasn’t there to keep them in check anymore. Baz let them just run free, just as eager to be careless as they were.
For two years, you loved Andrew when everyone else seemed so content with forgetting him. And two years is exactly how long Smurf’s patience lasted before she finally grew sick of you. You weren’t a threat, not anymore, but that didn’t mean she liked you any more than she did before.
You were lounging at the pool with Deran, prattling on about your new boss while he smoked. She walked up with a cruel smirk on her lips. Which should have been your first sign to cut loose and run.
“Hey, sweetheart.” She pulled an envelope from the pocket of her jeans and you leapt up. Water dripped from your legs as you climbed the stairs of the pool. “I think this might be for you.”
You hastily dried your hands off on your towel, taking the letter from her with trembling hands. Two years, and he was finally letting you hear from him again. Smurf let out a little laugh, crossing her arms as you eagerly ripped open the envelope. Your second sign that you should have just ignored her.
It was a letter, but not to you. He didn’t say her name at first. But you caught on quick enough. Mainly, when he started telling her how jealous he was of Baz. How Baz wasn’t good enough for her. She could do so much better. He could treat her so much better. He wouldn’t play around with her; he would take care of her like she deserved.
Your throat tightened to the point it felt like you were being strangled the longer you read. Tears burned against your lashes, but you refused to let Smurf see them fall. You could barely stomach half of the letter- drawing the line at him declaring his love for Cath- before you were folding it back up.
“It’s not for me,” you whispered, your voice breaking around the words as Deran finally lifted his head. He frowned at the look on your face while Smurf stepped closer. She took the letter from your hands, cupping your shoulder as she leaned toward your ear.
“He didn't want anything except what’s between your legs. I don’t want you, and my family doesn’t. Leave, or I’m going to have to make you, honey.”
And you did, just like she ordered. But you didn’t just leave her house; that wasn’t enough for you. You had to leave every reminder of the Codys behind completely.
Deran helped you, just a little, by giving you some of the money Andrew had stashed away before he was arrested. You didn’t want to take it. How could you start fresh if he was funding your future?
But you didn’t have a choice. You were working a dead-end job and barely making minimum wage. So, reluctantly, you took the cash and moved a few hours out of Oceanside. A cute place, right by the beach.
It was a relatively small town, quaint and filled with retirees. The type of quiet you were desperate for. Smurf bought up your old place without you knowing. You’d just made a blind deal, desperate for more money and a quick way out.
Which meant she got the one letter Andrew ever bothered to send.
They’re letting me out on good behavior. I want to see you. She’d scoffed as she’d tossed it in her fireplace, smiling as she thought about getting her boy back. Without any distractions in the way. You’d been dealt with. Cath wouldn’t be so hard to get rid of.
Pope didn’t expect his family to be waiting outside the prison for him. He’d only told one person he was getting out. And he’d been hoping to see you, but he wasn’t surprised when you weren’t there. Just a little disappointed. He was sure there was a reason for it, it’s not like you’d miss something so big on purpose.
But you hadn’t been waiting for him at Smurf’s either. You’d already warned him they’d sold his home. But you didn’t tell him they’d given his room away to his twin sister’s kid. No one had even bothered to tell him Julia had died.
He sat in the living room, feeling more out of place than he ever had before. Cath couldn’t look at him. Baz seemed angry that he had even made it out. The kid, J, was just pissing him off more, a painful reminder of the sister he’d lost. Smurf seemed on edge, with tight smiles and cloying words, while she tried to keep him placated.
There was one person very clearly missing. Someone they were pointedly not bringing up. You were never a huge part of the Cody family, but you were important to him and they knew that. But you weren’t here. And your letters had stopped a year ago. He had never figured out why, but he’d held out hope for a long time that a guard would bring him one again.
He had never written back. There was never anything more to be said. He couldn’t talk about being shoved in solitary. Or the way the guards used to beat and humiliate him. That was never something he wanted you to know. It wasn't the way he wanted you to think of him.
So he had just greedily accepted your letters, your stories. But he never thought his silence would be enough to finally push you away.
Pope broke the tense silence of the living room. “Where is she?” He stared down at his hands, knees jumping beneath his arms as he tried to keep himself calm.
Smurf shook her head and he shot her a glare. She knew exactly who he was talking about. “Oh.” Smurf rolled her eyes, reaching over to stroke his hair. He tried not to grimace, hating the way it felt. The only person he wanted that from right now was you.
“Forget about her, baby. She ran out a while ago. Took some of our money with her,” her voice tightens, gaze cutting to Deran, who wouldn’t look his way. His eyes narrow at that, his shoulders tensing at the discomfort on his brother's face.
“Just another skank looking for a quick fix,” Smurf callously dismissed. As if you hadn’t been there since they’d rebranded him Pope. Like you weren’t the only constant in his life, the only person he could actually rely on.
He knew you. You weren’t an addict. You weren’t like Ren, hooked on Craig because they’d both shot each other up one too many times. You’d never cared about the money he might’ve given you. You've only ever dealt with his shit and his family for him.
Pope refused to believe that you’d just left. That you wouldn’t have sent a letter explaining your absence. Or at least have waited until he got out to say goodbye
But Pope gave Smurf what she wanted. He nodded, pretending you were just some chick he liked to fuck sometimes. He let her believe the lie until he finally got a minute alone.
He tried to check all your socials, but you’d deleted them. He went through friends of yours and checked their posts to see if you’d ever popped up in any of them. He paced his room and spoke softly to himself while he tried to figure out where the hell you could have gone. Why would you have left?
Smurf had a hand in it; he was sure of that. But you’d survived her for years. Why would you suddenly give up, now?
He checked all of the letters you’d sent him. But the return address remained the same right until the last one. Pope racked his mind for any places you mentioned wanting to visit, but none of them seemed feasible for you to simply disappear to.
When all other options had been exhausted, he went another route.
Deran
He cornered him by the pool, eyes narrowing at the way Deran refused to meet his stare. “Where is she?”
“What the fuck are you talking-“
Pope shoved him back and Deran let out a low hiss as his spine slammed against the corner of the bar. “Don’t play dumb, Deran. You know exactly who I’m fucking talking about.”
Deran shot Pope a harsh glare, rubbing his bruising back. “Look, man, I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone.”
Pope tilted his head with a frown. “Even me?”
Deran scoffed and sneered. “You're kidding me? Especially you.”
What the fuck was that supposed to mean?
“Do you really want to do this?” Pope snapped, hands balling into fists at his side. He had a lot to work out. The majority of it was anger, most of that directed at his family. He wouldn’t mind making his little brother bleed if it got him what he wanted.
Deran seemed to realize that, too, disappointingly. “Fucks sake,” he huffed. It’s not like you and Deran were ever very close. Pope's not sure why you thought he would be a good choice to keep your secrets. Or why you were trying to keep secrets from him. But he could figure all that out when he saw you.
Because he would, now, as Deran wrote down your address and pressed the slip of paper into his palm.
You’d moved a few hours outside of Oceanside. Clearly desperate to get away. But that hadn’t been something Deran had been able to give a reason for. You kept a few things from him, it seemed.
The town was small, decent, and safe enough. It seemed to be full of retirees rather than anyone close to your age. He parked downtown, fiddling with the GPS on his phone while he tried to work out the best way to get to your place.
As luck would have it, he’d parked in front of the store you seem to frequent for groceries. Pope looked up just as you walked out of the store. His hand tightened around the steering wheel until the leather was creaking.
He’d imagined seeing you again a lot in prison. But the memory of you had begun to fade the longer he went without.
You seemed surreal as he watched you. Like something he dreamed up as you loaded your car with your bags. His hand dropped to the handle of his door. He wanted to jump out, hound you for an answer on why you left. Kiss you and take you right in the middle of the parking lot. He didn’t give a shit who saw; he just wanted you.
But he stopped himself. Kept himself locked in his car while he watched you. His chest was tight as you closed your trunk, hopping into your car and pulling out of your parking spot. Andrew started his truck back up, carefully, as he pulled up behind you.
He forced himself to stay back, to keep enough distance that you didn’t grow suspicious. He watched as you ran your errands. A stop by the general store where you picked up some tools. A few minutes in a boutique before you were walking out with empty hands. He watched it all, growing increasingly more frustrated that you seemed completely unaware someone was following you.
By the time you made it home, his patience was gone. He watched you head inside. Watched the lights flick on behind your curtains. How your silhouette moved through the house before you turned off the living room lights. You moved through the house, a light flicking off the closer you got to your bedroom. Andrew’s leg bounced as he watched the last one go off.
Then, he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He jumped from his truck, storming up the steps of your porch. He pulled his pick from his pocket, using his body to block anyone’s view as he pushed it into your lock.
His hands paused, though, when he remembered one of the first letters you’d sent him. A promise of a place always waiting for him with you. His eyes darted around the porch, chest tightening when he saw a hanging plant in the corner.
He walked over, glancing over his shoulder as his hand dug through the dirt. He’d almost given up hope when he felt the smooth metal of a key beneath his fingers.
He couldn’t decide whether to be upset or relieved. It was stupid of you to grant such easy access to your home. At the very least, though, this meant you still had to feel something for him.
He slipped through your door quietly. Toeing off his boots, he took care not to step on any creaking wood as he made his way through the house.
The interior was what you would expect from a beach bungalow, nice enough. Even with the limited light streaming through the curtains, he still spotted touches of you. Little pieces of color that he had missed while he’d been gone.
He’s aware this is probably the wrong way to go about the reunion. But he can’t trust that you won’t just avoid him if he tries to approach you naturally. It’s not like you to just disappear without a warning. He couldn’t stand seeing your face as you told him to stay out of your life. He’d rather deal with that rejection in the dark, when he doesn’t have to see the hatred in your eyes.
At the end of the hall is your bedroom. The door is cracked open slightly. Pope carefully pushes through, taking care to make sure the whining hinges don’t preemptively announce him.
You don’t move, sprawled across your bed as a sound machine blasts at top volume, and half your face is obscured by an eye mask. He crosses his arms with a scoff. You have made it incredibly easy to break in.
Pope shakes his head and steps further inside until he’s hovering over you. His brow furrows, his expression softening as he relearns the slopes of your face. There’s a smile growing on his face when you suddenly shoot up in bed.
He jolts back as your head swivels wildly. Suddenly, you’re ripping off your mask. He grimaces at the shrill scream you let out, slipping across your bed until your body is thudding against the wood.
He tries to say your name, but you’re jumping back up, a metal bat now in your hands. At least you’re marginally prepared.
“It’s me,” he calls out.
“What?” You snap, reaching for your lamp. He squints against the sudden light as you shove your hair out of your eyes. “Andrew?” You gasp, the bat slipping from your fingers.
“Hey,” he offers. He waits for you to hug him, to yell at him, or maybe to scream at him to get the hell out of your life. But you don’t; you just stand there, jaw dropped. He whispers your name, and you jolt back to life, shaking your head.
“What- how are you-" You press a hand to your temple and stutter out nonsense. He rounds the bed, slowly taking your hands in his as he leads you to sit back down.
You suck in a sharp breath, hands tensing in his hold, but you don’t jerk away. You also won’t meet his eyes. “Why are you here, Andrew?” He hates that there’s no familiar warmth when you say his name.
“What do you mean?” Where else would he be?
“I mean,” you snap, finally meeting his eye. But it’s cold, the way you look at him. “Why are you here? In my house,” you grit out, eyes wide as you gesture toward your bedroom.
Pope rubs the back of his neck. This is a slightly better reaction than what he’d been preparing for. But he can’t tell if catching you off guard was the right call.
“I told you I was coming back.”
You narrow your eyes and shake your head. “When?” You huff.
Andrew frowns. “In my letter,” he’s sure he must’ve seen it before you moved. Or, at the very least, one of his family would’ve given it to you.
“Oh,” you scoff and jump to your feet. “No, I never got a letter from you, Andrew. Just one person did.” You smile as Andrew frowns, shaking his head helplessly. “Cath,” you elaborate, patience running thin.
“I never sent her a letter,” he insists, not having a goddamn idea what you’re talking about. He just wants you to sit down again. The way you’re eyeing that bat is disconcerting.
“Are you seriously trying to lie to me right now?” You demand, pacing in front of him.
He snaps your name and you freeze, forcing yourself to look at him. Pope stands, but you take a step back. It's hard to ignore how much that hurts.
“I never sent anyone any letters, alright? I- I couldn’t. I couldn’t talk about what was happening, so I never sent anything. But I told you I was coming back.”
A part of you softens. You’re still not happy, but you seem more inclined to believe him. “I’m sorry.” You shake your head. “I never got anything. When did you send it?”
“A few months ago.”
“No,” you bite your lip, glaring down at the floor. “I’d already moved. Smurf would’ve-“
You cut yourself off with a low hiss as you slump back into your bed. Pope hovers in front of you, unsure what to do now. “God, that fucking bitch. Goddamn control freak,” you snap.
Your eyes shoot up to his, “Did you ever, in your life, write Cath a letter?”
Pope grimaced, thinking about it. “Yeah, when we were kids.” You let out a bitter laugh, head falling into your hands. Hesitatingly, he took a seat beside you.
“Are you mad at me?”
Your head shoots up and you stare at him for a long time. Long enough for him to grow uncomfortable. “No,” you finally whisper and something inside of him finally relaxes. “No, I’m not mad at you.”
He reaches out, eager to finally hold you again, but you hold up your hand, jerking away. “But I can’t do this again. I’m so glad you’re out, I really am. But I can’t go back to being what we were.”
Pope shakes his head, drawing back into himself. “What we were?”
“You can’t just come back and expect me to be your fuck buddy again, Andrew.”
“That’s not what we were,” he snaps. How could you debase it like that? Just like Smurf had.
“You never called to anything else,” you scoff, brows drawing together with irritation. Were you always so volatile?
“I never called it anything.”
“Exactly,” you snap. “Andrew, I don’t know how else to make it clear. I wrote to you for two years, without ever getting anything back. I’ve been in love with you for so long. But you don’t get to come back into my life and offer nothing but sex. It’s not fair.”
His chest aches as you cut yourself off, your voice trembling. Is that what you’ve thought? All this time, you just thought that the way he treats you is how he’d ever treat anyone else?
“It was never just sex.” He pauses, completely unsure if he even has the words to properly convey how he feels about you. “I love you,” he admits, and your breath hitches painfully. “I thought you knew that. How could you not know?” It's embarrassing, the way his voice breaks.
“How would I?” You scoff, watery eyes lifting to meet his. “It’s not like we talk about our emotions a lot.”
Pope swallows roughly. This isn’t how he works. He can’t just spew off romantic words of undying love. He just isn’t good at that. Always better at showing others how he feels. Though clearly that isn’t working either.
“I love you,” he promises. “I’ve waited three years to see you. And when you weren’t at the house today, I thought…” he can’t finish. He’d had a hundred thoughts of the worst possible explanations for your absence. And each one had hurt worse than the last.
You let out a rough sigh, and Andrew waits for you to tell him to get out. He jolts when he feels your arm around him. You pull him closer and he seeks your warmth immediately, his head falling into the crook of your neck as he winds his arm around you.
You let out a small laugh, stroking his back as he sinks his weight against you. “I never stopped loving you,” you whisper. “I was pissed off for a while. But, infuriatingly, you’ve always stayed with me.” He pulls back and you nod. “Always,” you swear, frowning at the look in his eyes.
“Please,” he whispers, hardly even caring he’s this close to getting on his knees and begging. “Can I stay here tonight?”
You frown and shake your head. “Of course,” you lean down, lips soft as they press against his temple. “As long as you want.” He’s sure you have no idea just how long you're signing up for.
Or, maybe you were. You seem to have been waiting for this as long as he has. He’s not planning on giving you up anytime soon. Not again.
a/n: feeling generous today, so you get 2 chapters :) thank you all for tuning in!! i hope you enjoyed these idiots as much as i enjoyed writing them <3 forehead kiss to everyone