need sleazy!ex-husband sammy to slip into reader’s bed and CNC PLEAK
oh you NAAAAAAAASTY. i luv it.
this is ur warning y'all. this dirty and nasty. impact play, cnc, breaking in, all the warnings. smut.
the last time sammy saw you was after a bitter drop off of your son. you were bitching and moaning to him about how he was late, about how he didn't care about you, about how big of a manwhore he was, and you were glad you left him. the whole ride back to his own house his was seething, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tight he swore it could snap in half. he hated when you through the fact that you left in his face. he always had the control in your relationship, always telling you what to do, how to do it, when to do it. but of course, you got the last bit of control when you filed for divorce.
he had dropped your son off to his parents early in the night, heading straight to your house. he sat a few houses down in his car, fingers picking at the skin of his hands as he stared at your house. he could see the light in your bedroom still on, the silhouette of you outlined behind the curtain. anger was still running through his blood as he replayed the argument from days earlier. he did care about you, he wasn't a manwhore, hell he hadn't slept with anyone since your divorce, and he was going to make sure you realized you were not happy you left. he sat for hours, chewing nervously at his finger nails as he stared at your house. it wasn't until the light in your bedroom finally shut off that he was climbing out of the car.
it was like he was spiraling more and more everyday leading up to this, the thought that he had to have you again was the only thing he thought about. he was silent as he pulled the key that he still had your house from his pocket, slowly turning the lock till it had clicked. stupid girl. still haven't changed your locks. it was like you were inviting him in. he was silent as he crept up the stairs to the bedroom the both of you once shared, slowly peeking his head into the room. there you laid, like a perfect angel. the blood rushed straight to his cock at the outfit you had on. one of his old shirts from the police academy covered your body, a small black pair of underwear peeking out slightly underneath. his hand slowly moved to the back of his pants, the gun tucked tightly into his waistband. his feet quietly shuffled across the room, moving so he was now stood right in front of your sleeping face.
he couldn't stop himself from reaching forward to brush a strand of hair from your sleeping face, freezing as you began to stir from your sleep. your eyes slowly fluttered open, squinting at the frame in front of you. were you dreaming? most nights were spent dreaming of sammy and the time you spent together, so it didn't shock you too much. that was until his hand was reaching to touch your face gently again, his thumb dragging over your bottom lip. "what the fuck!" you immediately screeched out as you jumped, his large hand coming to clap over your mouth immediately. "don't fucking scream. it's just me," he mumbled, his voice low and raspy as he stared down at you. he couldn't help but groan softly at the look in your wide eyes. straight fear. your hands were quick to start clawing at his wrists, nails digging in to his skin deeply. he hissed and pulled his hand back from your face, rubbing at his skin. "what the fuck are you doing here?" you hissed at him as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, trying to find your phone to find the time. but the sound of a click from a gun safety had you freezing.
your head slowly turned to look over at him, face to face with the gun he now had pointed at you. "you know what im doing here," he mumbled, his tongue licking over his lips as he stared down at you, eyes dark and full of lust. you and sammy had quite the kinky relationship when you were married, sex being one of the things you two could truly agree and get along with. it felt like your body was betraying you as the heat began to pool in your stomach, eyes still big and staring straight at the gun. he knew your boundaries. he knew you knew he would stop if you wanted. but you didn't want that. it was like anger boiled in you, maybe from the fact he interrupted your sleep or the fact you were still pissed at him from days earlier. "you can't just show up and ask to fuck me," you hissed, immediately laying back down to pull the covers back over your head. not even a second passed before he was yanking the blanket completely off of you, his hand grabbing your jaw roughly to force you to look at him. "im not asking. take your clothes off," he hissed, shoving your head back back into the pillow as he released you.
your body was covered in chills, eyes slightly watery as you stared up at him. you couldn't help but look down at the gun he held at his side before slowly back up at him. the frustration was only growing as he stared down at you before he slammed the gun down on the nightstand, both hands gripping at the collar of the shirt you wore. it was like paper, his hands quick to rip it right down the middle. a loud gasp left your lips, his large hands immediately moving to grope your tits. "you're such a pig," you hissed, trying to shove his hands away. his hand was quick to reach up, a quick slap across your cheek causing your head to spin. "shut the fuck up. i'm tired of hearing you nagging all the time," he mumbled, moving quick to pull his shirt off before he was climbing over the bed on top of you. your hand had moved up to your cheek to cradle the sting that now radiated on your cheek, a smirk settled on his lips. you didn't even realize you had tears streaming down your cheeks until you felt them touch your fingertips, sammy moving to grab both of your hands, pinning them tightly above your head with his hand.
your legs immediately began to kick as he moved to unbuckle and push his pants down to the middle of his thighs, another slap coming across your cheek. "stop fucking fighting. i can smell how fucking wet you are," he hissed at you, his free hand that wasn't holding your wrist moving down to your underwear. he was quick to rip those too, shoving them into the back pocket of his jeans. "just think. i could be doing this every fucking day if you didn't give up on our family," he mumbled, a finger moving down to run through your slit. your jaw clenched tightly to try to trap any sounds that threatened to escape, your eyes screwing shut tightly. his finger immediately moved to his mouth, sucking the wetness off of it as he stared down at your continuously squirming body.
a small sob left your lips as he moved to rub the tip of himself through your slit. "stop crying. your pussy is fucking weeping for me," he mumbled, slowly beginning to push himself in. you couldn't help the scream that left your lips, his hand immediately coming to slam over your mouth again before his hips were slamming in. you hadn't slept with anyone since the last time you were with him, so a tight fit was an understatement. the size of his dick didn't help either. a string of curses left his mouth as he remained still inside you, hand still held tightly over your mouth. "you know what to do if you want me to stop," he mumbled, a hint of sincerity in your eyes that had you almost melting. he moved slow at first, hips moving at a gentle pace as he stared down at you. it wasn't even a minute before his hips were pounding into you, removing his hand from your mouth just to hear your moans. he couldn't stop himself as he leaned down to press his mouth to yours, hips only moving harder as you didn't kiss him back. one hand moved to wrap tightly around your throat as he pulled back, jaw clenched tightly. "fucking kiss me," he muttered, hand giving your throat a warning squeeze before his lips were pressed back to yours.
you hesitated for a moment, your lips unmoving before your body betrayed you once again. you slowly kissed back, a hungry moan leaving his lips as his hips continued to rut against you like he was a pathetic virgin. "i fucking own you," he mumbled against your mouth, a loud moan coming from you only causing him to smirk. he pulled back slowly, hand remaining on your throat. "say it. say that i own you or im going to fill you up," he growled, his hips stuttering a little to hint that he was close. the tears continued to fall from your eyes, small gasps of hair leaving your mouth as you began to claw at his wrists to let go. he only held tighter the longer you stayed silent, his expression more pissed than before. "you..own me," you finally gasped out, his hand immediately letting go before he was pulling you back up to kiss you again. a loud moan came from the back of his throat, the feeling of his hot cum filling you up causing you to moan out. "you lied!" you whined out, hand slapping his back hard as he stilled his hips inside of you. he didn't say anything, just slowly pulled out with a wide smirk on his lips.
your whole body was shaking from pure adrenaline and a denied orgasm. "fucking pathetic. still can't make me cum. nothing has changed," you stuttered out as your legs twitched, sammy standing to pull his pants back up. he simply ignored you, grabbing his gun to tuck it back into his waistband before he finally looked back at you. "maybe at the next exchange if you're nice enough, i'll come back and think about letting you cum," he mumbled, reaching forward to pat your cheek gently before he was making his way towards the bedroom.
as much as you hated sammy, he sure knew how to fuck you like no other.
thinking about single dad/surfer!Pope meeting a newcomer marine biologist!reader who works at the new aquarium they just opened in town that Lena has been begging him to take her to after Pope got her into watching nature documentaries on the weekends instead of cartoons. (he always replies with why go pay for an aquarium when they live right on the beach, but really Lena just wants to go to the gift shop and get a plushy of her new favorite animal the tiger shark).....also you live in one of Smurf's properties, so Pope is your new landlord....
Smurf rarely allows one-on-one time within the Family. When it comes to free-thinking, she's not even fond of the boys doing it for themselves. She thinks it creates favourites, and dynamics that become uncontrollable with the passing of time.
The Family relies on trust, she always says. In me, and Jesus. No one else.
Except Baz is allowed to keep Cath as his wife, while also sleeping with half of the new recruits - most of whom are barely eighteen. And Craig and Deran disappear for weeks on ends with their new friends, on the condition that they bring back a few weary travellers with them.
Pope seems to be the only one that the rules actually apply to. Smurf keeps her hold on him tight, employing two little words to ensure his utmost obedience.
Prodigal son.
The successor.
As long as he keeps taking his medication. As long as he does everything she says. As long as he suppresses every single instinct that makes Andrew feel like himself.
He doesn't have a single material possession in the world. Each morning his clothes are picked from a communal pile, and he has to pray he'll find ones that fit over his calves - with all the scrawny and underfed teenagers that Smurf is recruiting, his bicep is larger than most of their heads.
Maybe it's why he's so drawn to you.
Your sweet smiles, soft skin, and quiet moans that only he's been allowed to hear. God, he prays he's the only one who ever gets to hear them.
You're a new recruit, which is why Smurf hasn't pushed for you to get more involved with the Family's activities.
She doesn't want to scare you off. Not when you're so good with Lena and the other children.
He's the reason you're here. The one who picked you up from the side of the road, and wiped your tears while you cried over your pastor father kicking you out.
He stroked your head, and gave you some of the bread he keeps in the truck when he learned you hadn't eaten in days, and told you about the Family. Exactly the way he's been programmed to do since childhood.
There are two usual responses - first, confusion that morphs to disgust after a few minutes. Those people would never make it in the Family to begin with. They're too selfish. Not imbued with classic family values.
The second response is elation, sometimes presenting as relief. Generally a good sign, though Pope is always wary of the ones who seem too excited. With all the talk of CIA psyops these days, you can never be too careful.
You had looked at him with wide eyes and parted lips, before leaning across the console and kissing him.
Pope is meant to recruit. To convince and negotiate until Smurf gets them under her wing.
He's certainly not supposed to sleep with them before she even sets her sights on them.
You'd kept apologising - tears streaming down your face as you explained that you've just been so lonely recently, and that he's the first person who's been kind to you in months.
He can't imagine ever not being kind to you.
It didn't even feel like a conscious decision. More like a melding of souls, as he lay you down in the bed of the truck and kissed along your collarbone. Fingernails digging into his back, it had been the sweetest pain he's ever felt.
And when you fell asleep in his arms after, he started wondering if this is how life is supposed to feel.
If maybe Smurf hasn't quite been telling him the truth all these years.
Im so in love with sleazy ex husband Sammy. That’s his girl!! I’d love anything else you have for him <333
mother's day with sleazy ex!sammy
waking up on mother's day was such a strange feeling. it was your first mother's day alone since your divorce. you were so used to waking up to sammy and your son downstairs making breakfast, a present waiting for you, the one day throughout the whole year sammy would actually let it be about you without picking a fight. you looked forward to it every year, just a reminder that out of your not so great marriage with sammy that you did get something beautiful out of it. your son. except this morning was different. it was sammy's weekend with him. he seemed to forget it was mother's day and attempted to argue with you when you begged and pleaded for your son to just stay with you this weekend. you cried the entire ride home after you had dropped him off, cursing and yelling to no one about how he treated you.
the morning was so quiet, your house empty which only broke your heart a little bit. your parents had invited you over, offering to have a nice lunch with you and spend the day together. you denied the invitation, claiming you had some things at home you needed to get done. it wasn't a complete lie. those things just happened to be laying on your couch eating ice cream and hating your ex husband. that's exactly what you did too. you hadn't even changed out of your robe, just threw your hair up and yourself on the couch with some shitty rom com playing on the tv. there was no text from sammy to tell you happy mother's day either which only pissed you off and saddened you even more.
you had already watched 3 movies, your phone staying silent with no calls or texts from him. you were about to give up, about to just shower and go for a walk when your doorbell rang. you couldn't help but groan, pulling yourself from the couch to slowly make your way to the door. as you peeped out the peephole, it was dark. someone was holding their hand over it to block your view. curses were left under your breath as you swung the door open, the sun blinding you a little bit. "happy mother's day, mommy!" your son squealed, immediately hugging onto your legs. you immediately squatted down to hug him tightly, eyes closed in relief. "yes happy mother's day, mommy," sammy's voice cut in, your eyes opening as you looked up at him. there he stood with a huge bouquet of flowers and some grocery bags in his arms, a satisfied smirk on his lips. you ignored him as you pressed kisses all over his face, your son squealing in excitement as you picked him up to carry him inside.
you didn't even acknowledge sammy as you sat on the couch with your son, your ex husband following to set the grocery bags and flowers on your counter. "what are you doing here?" you teased your son as you tickled him, his squeals only getting louder. "tell mommy we are here to make her breakfast and spend the whole day with her," sammy called from the kitchen, your heart beat getting faster. of course. he loved to play family. "we?" you questioned, not letting the smile fall from your face as to disappoint your son. all the little boy could do was nod quickly, climbing off your lap to grab some of his toys were laid on the ground and begin to play. you pressed a single kiss to his head before you made your way to the kitchen, arms crossed tightly over your chest as you stared at sammy. he didn't even look up at you as he began to unload the groceries, getting pots and pans out from the spot you always kept them in.
"you did this on purpose," you mumbled to him, sammy only giving you an innocent smile before he began to make his way to you. you stood firm, feet planting to the ground as he stood right in front of you, hand extending to rest on your side. "can't i treat the mother of my child to a nice day?" he spoke with fake pout on his lip, your hand moving to swat his away from your side. "i'm going to shower. don't burn my house down," you grumbled to him, turning to make your way towards the bathroom. he couldn't help the twinge of anger that ran through him. it was only your house because he let you have it.
your shower took forever, taking your sweet time to wash yourself. you only did it to piss sammy off. you knew he hated how long your showers were, always complaining that 'the water bill is too high.' you didn't even hear the bathroom door creak open as you finally shut the water off, swinging the curtain open. a loud shriek left your lips at the sight of sammy stood in the doorway, pulling the curtain back to cover yourself. "get out, pervert!" you groaned, trying to reach for your towel but he was quick to yank it away. he couldn't help but laugh, stepping into the middle bathroom now as he admired your angry expression. "oh please. used to let me shower with you all the time," he mumbled, dangling the towel in front of your face. you quickly snatched it from him, wrapping it around yourself before you were stepping out. "go make my breakfast. you're not here to perv on me," you mumbled, standing in front of the mirror to start your skincare. your eyes flicked up to look at him in the reflection, the man staring right back at you in the mirror. he had a small smile on his face, a genuine one that you hadn't seen in a while that had your stomach fluttering. "breakfast is ready, we are waiting for you," he spoke, hand reaching forward to pinch your ass before he was disappearing down the stairs again.
you ate breakfast with both of them, a feeling of nostalgia hitting you right in the stomach. of course you missed this, eating and spending time together with both of them there but you refused to back track. "when are we all gonna live together again?" your son spoke, causing you to almost choke on your food. you shifted your gaze to sammy who was staring at you with a raised eyebrow, a smirk threatening to spread across his lips. "daddy said we are going to live all together some day," your son spoke again, your jaw ticking as you stared at your ex husband. you hated when he did this, like he was pitting your son against you. making the divorce seem like it was entirely your fault. "daddy is crazy. maybe when he learns to take care of mommy like he should then he can live with us again," you spoke with a fake smile to your son, standing up to put your dirty plate in the sink.
you sat and watched a movie with your son as sammy did the dishes, your mind racing with what your son had said earlier. of course you wanted sammy again, who wouldn't? but you refused to give in to him so easily until he made the moves to change. you hadn't even noticed your son had fallen asleep next to you on the couch, soft snores leaving his lips. now was your chance to attack. you slowly slid off the couch as to not wake him, covering him up with a blanket before you were making your way in to the kitchen. "why would you say that to him?" you hissed quietly at the man as he stood drying the dishes, slowly turning to face you. he couldn't help but smirk at your anger, throwing the dish towel over his shoulder. "because we are going to live together again. you know it. i know it," he shrugged, your foot stomping in annoyance. "in your dreams," you mumbled, pushing past him to fix the cups in the cupboard the way you liked instead of the mess he had them in.
you couldn't help but get chills as his hands gripped onto your waist, slowly pulling you back against him. "i do dream about it. miss waking up in bed with you," he spoke lowly into your ear, hands rubbing up and down your sides gently. you couldn't help the smell breath that you let out at his touch, your eyes fluttering shut. he had this stupid spell over you. "you ruined that," you shot back, eyes opening back up to continue fixing the dishes. he was quick to spin you around, his hips pinning yours to the counter as he held you tight. "let me fix it then. let me stay tonight," he mumbled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your ear that had you shuttering. your mind was racing, your heart telling you to say no, tell him to get off and shove him away. your brain was telling you the complete opposite. let him stay, let him touch you and kiss on you. your hands moved to rest on his chest, his head coming back to stare right at you. "fine.. but you're sleeping on the couch," you mumbled before you were shoving him back.
considering rewriting the whole first act of my fic bc it's not coming out how I want it...mind you the second half is almost finished so I know where it's gonna lead I just don't have the words???
I locked in and rewrote it, and I like it sm more now....I do keep adding stuff to the second half, but hopefully for my sake I can finish it by the deadline I gave myself, which is this week
Part 1 Part 1.5 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 4.5 Part 5
Summary Scenes from the nine months of growing your family with Titus <3 Settling to the idea of motherhood, and Titus frantically preparing in the only way he knows how- just spending money.
W.C. 8K
Tags Just being pregnant in general, depictions of violence, blood, kind of gross decapitation (not described, just referenced), light smut, fingering and kissing, birth but not graphic bc who am i to be writing about that, Titus being emotionally constipated but doing what he can
Author's Note This was such a labor of love and I really really hope yall like it!! Like I said, this is going to be the last chapter for a minute. I'm not done with the series!!! But I've been consistently putting out chapters every week, and I have a bunch of life stuff happening thats going to keep me from doing that next week, and possibly the week after. Enjoy!!
xoxo
It’s dark. Just a few candles along the walls and soft moonlight guiding your way. You don’t even know what time it is. You didn’t check. But you would know this path completely blindfolded. You’re committed to making as little noise as possible, taking light steps and feeling your way around the corners, taking the stairs one at a time.
You finally make it, and it feels like you’ve been holding your breath for half the walk. But no one knows you’re here, you made sure. You only have one thing on your mind, and you won’t give up until you have it.
You feel exhausted, swinging the door open and blindly grabbing, the stark light blinding your tired eyes.
It’s not until you sit down, exhausted just from the walk to get here, that you start to relax. The thoughts in your mind are finally slowing down. You feel insane, like a junkie looking for their fix. Which is not far off.
Do it.
Go for it.
You need it.
And you gave in.
“A little late for dessert, isn’t it?” one of the low lights of the kitchen flick on, and Titus steps into view, his hair mused and his eyes tired. Both of you recoil slightly at the light, eyes squinting and readjusting.
Your eyes snap up to him, fingers curling around the spoon and pint of ice cream in front of you. It’s not shame that you feel, or even embarrassment. More just irritation that your body can pull you around like this. Like you aren’t in control anymore.
“Didn’t mean to wake you,” you say.
Titus comes around and wraps his arms around you from behind, fingers spread wide over your belly. You’re showing now, the small bump starting to protrude from your sleep shirt.
“You didn’t wake me. I just always seem to know when you get up. The bed feels lighter, colder,” he says, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
You pause, spoon halfway to your lips and cast him a sidelong glance.
“Lighter? Are you calling me-”
“Don’t read into that,” he cuts you off.
You dig into the ice cream and hold the spoon up to Titus over your shoulder, who gladly takes your offering.
“You should have woken me up, though,” Titus sighs, settling in the chair next to you. “I would have brought it to you.”
“Couldn’t sleep. Wanted to take a walk,” you shovel another bite of ice cream into your mouth. Only now, the craving has subsided, and you feel like you’ll throw up if you take another bite. “Besides, you always look so peaceful when you’re sleeping.”
“Because no one is pissing me off in my dreams,” he says flatly.
Titus has been extra attentive to you during pregnancy. If that was even possible. It’s not just that he’s hired extra staff to make sure you’re waited on hand and foot (he has), he’s also completely glued to your side.
It’s understandable. This new part of you, this new part of your family, is so fragile. Titus would probably kill everyone in the vicinity if anything happened to either you or the baby. And he doesn’t trust anyone to look out for you more than he trusts himself.
So the extra help, the maid assigned to you every waking minute, the special nutritionist in charge of preparing your meals, the on call doctors- none of that is meant to replace Titus’s shadow behind you, just one step away at all times, or his hand permanently attached to the small of your back.
“Ugh,” you groan, putting the lid back on and leaning back.
“You finished?” Titus asks.
“Yeah,” you pout.
“Come on, let’s get you back to bed,” Titus puts the ice cream back into the freezer.
You hold your arms up in the air, and Titus moves under them, letting you hold onto his shoulders while he slips his arms around you. One supporting your back and one under your legs. You tuck your face into his shoulder as he picks you up gently and without struggle.
“Not too heavy to be carried,” you mutter.
“You’re not going to let that go, are you?” Titus shakes his head.
“Nope,” you pop the last syllable, keeping the smile to yourself.
When Titus settles you back in bed, he makes sure that there are no less than four pillows under you, all individually fluffed. He drapes the blankets over you, and when you whine that it’s too hot, he moves them off.
It’s surprisingly tender. He’s just so scared of doing something wrong. Of messing up. Of losing either of you. Both of you. Even though he says he knows how strong you are, that you aren’t so fragile, he can’t shake it.
Titus lays down behind you, keeping a respectable distance. You feel too cold now.
You grab a hold of his arm and drape it over you, forcing Titus to scoot closer. He rests his hand over your belly, securing you next to him. All the pillows in the world, and it’s still Titus’s warmth, his heartbeat against your back, that comforts you more.
“Holy shit,” you gasp.
“What,” Titus shoots up, frantic. “What is it, what's wrong?”
“Did you feel that?” you look back at him.
“Feel what?”
You roll over onto your back and take Titus’s hand, pressing against your stomach.
“I felt- I think-” you close your eyes and try to send a silent message to the baby. Please, do it again. Please, let him feel how strong and healthy you are.
Titus’s eyes are wild with concern and anticipation. He stares down at you, waiting. His concerned face and sharp jaw illuminated only by the moonlight from the window. Still so pretty. Even when he’s trying not to panic.
“Say something,” you whisper.
“What am I supposed to say?” He looks bewildered.
“Anything,” you nudge him. “They need to hear your voice.”
Titus looks unsure as he leans in closer to you, hand still splayed over your belly. This part is foreign to Titus. The theatrics of parenthood. Doing things that you know make no sense in the moment, but will mean everything later on.
He takes a deep breath and leans in close, eyes flashing up to you for a reassuring nod.
“Tell your mother,” he murmurs, lips just inches from your skin, “that she needs to get some sleep, and to stop disappearing for ice cream.”
There’s a pause. A bated breath. And then you feel it. The smallest kick. A little jostle and bump.
“Was that…” Titus breathes.
“They’re kicking,” you smile, pressing your hand to Titus’s cheek. “And saying to let me have all the ice cream I want.”
“Of course they did,” Titus leans forward and presses a kiss to your belly.
You’re not completely sure, maybe it’s a trick of the moonlight or your hormones making you hallucinate. But it looks like Titus is getting a little weepy. You both settle back into bed, you lying on your back, and Titus is now almost completely curled around you. His face nuzzled against the side of your neck, arm slung over your belly. Not willing to miss another kick. Another moment.
~~~
Five months into pregnancy, and Titus is all over the place. One minute he’s ordering five different baby carriers and throwing them off the balcony (to test their durability), and the next he’s making you try an endless list of different teas that he’s had flown in from all over the world (this one is supposed to help with nausea. And this one is supposed to support a healthy immune system. And this one-)
You would be irritated, but he’s taking care of literally everything for you. You’ve hardly had to lift a finger. This pregnancy is going extremely smoothly so far, and it’s because Titus is being so overbearing. Not that he’s the one doing everything- Titus doesn’t even fully take care of himself. But he’s overseeing your day to day, ensuring that you are left wanting for nothing.
There was no way Titus was letting you walk around in stretchy denim and frumpy sundresses. He reached out to your favorite designers to have maternity garments handmade for you. The softest, most luxurious fabrics drape dramatically over your growing belly.
You love it. Wearing clothes closer to your regular wardrobe makes you feel more human. Less like a bloated whale.
Even going to your doctor's appointments, you feel put together.
It’s a sunny day, and you’re taking brunch out on the patio of your favorite date night restaurant. Titus has sent your food back twice already, insisting that the eggs in your eggs benedict aren’t cooked properly. You finally just changed your order to sourdough avocado toast, to ease his mind and finally get something in your stomach.
There’s people everywhere, enjoying one of the first non-miserable summer days in weeks. You can’t help but look at each person and wonder. Make up stories in your mind. Who were their parents? What did they go through? Are they a good person for it? Do they still speak to their mom?
The envelope is sitting on the table between you.
The envelope.
Really, you’re trying not to look at it.
“We should at least put it away if we aren’t going to discuss it,” Titus gestures to the envelope.
You chew on your bottom lip. “I mean, what is it going to change? We are still going to need to get a crib. What does it matter if it’s pink or blue?”
“I thought you wanted the room to be burgundy?” Titus asks, poking at his own food.
“Besides the point,” you reply.
Titus looks at you, then down at the envelope. You just came back from another doctor’s appointment, and when the doctor asked if you wanted to know the gender…
You clammed up. You couldn’t answer. Did you want to know? And did you want to know in the middle of the doctor’s office? Is that the memory you wanted to look back on? So, Titus had the doctor write it down. We can open it when we are ready, he said.
You chew on your bottom lip, mulling it over. Unsure if you’re ready.
“If you don’t want to know,” Titus reaches for the envelope.
You slap your hand down before Titus can even touch it. He looks up at you, arm still extended.
“What if it’s not what you want?” you ask.
“You don’t know what I want,” Titus says.
“Trust me, I know what you want,” you reply.
“You’re stalling,” Titus says, pointing his fork at you. “You know it doesn’t matter to me. We are going to find out eventually. Either now or in a few months.”
“Right,” you nod. “Let’s just get it over with.”
You pull the envelope in your hands and set it where the both of you can see it. Titus gives you a reassuring nod, and you reach inside to slide the cardstock out.
Girl.
Girl?
Girl.
“We’re having a girl,” you smile.
You didn’t think it would mean that much to you. But your heart blooms.
Titus’s face is still for a moment. You can see the gears turning in his head. Finally he smiles, his shoulders settling. “A girl,” he says softly. He blinks a few times, like he’s getting used to how that feels. How it sounds coming out of his mouth.
“You’re going to be outnumbered, Danforth,” you smile at him, nearly unable to bite back your laugh.
Titus pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to hide his obvious happiness.
“I can’t be outnumbered in my own house,” he grumbles.
“Oh this is going to be so fun,” you reach for his hands and tug on them lightly. Titus rises from his seat and leans in to kiss you. You hold his face for a moment, feeling the warmth of his lips wash away any lingering anxieties.
“Glad that’s settled,” Titus says, snapping the envelope closed. “We have preparations to make for the baby shower.
“What is the point of having a shower?” you drop your head back. “I thought those were to make other people buy things for you. I don’t need any of them financing this baby, we will be fine.”
“It’s not about the gifts. It’s about making a statement,” Titus says, sitting in front of you again.
“A statement,” you echo. “Like ‘Hey everyone, look at my wife. She’s glowing and will be pushing a watermelon out of her vagina in a few months.’”
Titus stills and looks at you, lips quirked in a half smile.
“You know, people are always telling me to watch my mouth. How does no one believe that you’re just as bad?” he says.
“You love my mouth,” you narrow your eyes, lips curling into a smirk.
“Don’t I.”
~~~
The baby shower is more of a baby rainstorm.
It’s huge, making your seasonal galas look like children’s parties. It looks like it was thrown by Mr. Gatsby himself. The normal string quartet has been replaced by a full orchestra in the main hall. The dining room is overflowing with your current food fixations, a 4-tiered cake, and floral arrangements made up of your favorite flowers. As soon as the sun went down, fireworks exploded across the sky.
As much as it was a celebration of baby Danforth, Titus made sure that you were written all over it. A celebration of you, too.
Young servers dressed in ornate costumes hand out champagne. Of which you are not allowed to partake, as much as you’d love to take the edge off.
Give it to the satanic cult not to miss an opportunity for a night of indulgence.
It’s overwhelming. In every sense of the word. You stand at the railing of the second floor balcony, taking it all in. Titus approaches you from behind, sliding his hands around your belly and lifting ever so slightly. You sigh and relax into his grip.
“This is not a baby shower,” you mutter. “Baby showers have suburban moms and party games.”
“I’m pretty sure there’s a poker game happening in the garden,” Titus says.
You smile and roll your eyes.
“Relax, my love. This is supposed to be celebratory,” he says into your ear.
“I know,” you nod.
“Then why do you look so unhappy? Is it the ice sculpture? I can have them melt it back down and use it to water the plants.” Titus moves next to you.
“No,” you shake your head, smiling solemnly. Your hand drifts to the heart pendant around your neck.
“Oh,” Titus sighs.
“I wish she could be here. See this. See us,” you rub one hand over your stomach. “Meet you.”
Titus takes your hand and squeezes it reassuringly. It’s difficult. Becoming a mother without your mother. Titus can check a lot of boxes in this experience, but he can’t fill that void. More than anything you wish you could ask her every small question that pops into your head. Is the timing right for this milestone? Should I be walking more or less?
What if I can’t do it?
It’s been on your mind ever since you started showing. The moment this pregnancy became real and unavoidable.
“Not that she would have liked you,” you say, voice twisting up and bottom lip quivering. “But I think she would have understood you, eventually.”
“Okay, hey,” Titus takes your face in his hands, tilting your head back to keep the tears from falling. He consoles you, shushing you in a very loving way. “If you mess up your makeup right now you’ll just get even more upset later.”
“You’re right,” you blink, still weepy but keeping the tears at bay. For now. “I’m sorry I said that my mom wouldn’t like you. You had a mom. She probably liked you. That was so mean!” You’re whining now, it’s a little pathetic.
Titus takes it in stride. His mouth twitches in an almost smile as he brings your face back down to him. “I’m honestly amazed every single day that you like me.”
“I do. A lot. I love you,” you almost start to cry again.
“Okay, I think we need to go do something else,” Titus takes your hand.
“Wait,” you pull back, “give me a kiss, please.”
Titus draws near to you, standing over you with that imposing presence that makes other people feel unease, but makes you feel safe. His eyes devour you, taking in every detail of your hair, your dress, your face. He curls a finger under your chin, tilting your head up and presses a single, loving kiss to your lips. It stills your breathing enough to steady it, your heart pounding for a different reason now.
“Ready?” he asks, still just inches away from you. His voice is low and runs right through you.
“If you kiss me like that again,” your lips graze against his, “I may drag you in the other direction.”
Titus closes his eyes for a moment, collecting himself. “Please, hold onto that thought. Remember that you said that.”
You smile, and take a breath. “I’m ready.”
Titus takes you by the hand and leads you through the party, supporting you the entire way. All eyes are on you. It’s not the first time, and probably won’t be the last. You seem to have a knack for drawing attention to yourself when it comes to Mr. Le Bail and his followers.
You feel like an over inflated balloon, and your feet are starting to riot against your nonsensible shoe choices. But Titus won’t leave your side, and supports half your weight the entire night. Which is both calming and extremely helpful when extended family members try to help themselves to your stomach.
“Don’t touch her,” Titus says flatly every time someone tries to press their palm to your belly, asking if you feel any kicks.
For the most part, the regular wealthy people are overjoyed. Pitching (terrible) family names and asking about (offering unsolicited advice on) birthing plans and providing (hideous) ideas for color schemes for the nursery.
It’s easy to be excited about new life when you aren’t worried about how you’re going to take care of the thing. How you’ll pay the hospital bills. How you’ll pay for the right school. How to make sure your child is properly fed every day. Money can do that. Your money will do that.
It’s a reassurance you won’t take for granted.
It’s the satanic cult members that look at you weird. Which is saying a lot, since they wear robes and slaughter goats under a full moon. But yeah, you’re the odd duck with a pregnant belly.
One of them actually deigns to approach you.
George Cassidy is head of one of the lower families in the pyramid. Not a high council family, but one of the oldest in the organization, and that bears weight. You’ve met him in passing a few times before, and there was hardly a fond word exchanged.
“Good to see the Danforth line is continuing,” he says to Titus. Only Titus.
He looks down at your stomach, top lip curling slightly. Barely. Just enough for you to register the disdain.
“We are very grateful to Mr. Le Bail for this gift,” Titus says, sliding a hand to the small of your back. He pulls you closer, just barely pressed to his side, almost as a way to force you into George’s view. As if the man wasn’t pointedly ignoring you.
“Well, one can only hope that this child will be brought up correctly,” he says.
Titus’s fingers curl slightly at your back.
“You doubt our abilities as parents?” Titius says.
“No, I have complete faith in you.” George looks directly at Titus, leaving no room for you to think he’s possibly including you.
“If you have something to say, Cassidy,” Titus’s jaw is rigid, and there’s a small vein popping in his neck, “I would rather you come out and say it.”
“I find it amusing that the leader of the high council would procreate with someone so,” George’s eyes give you a once over, “poorly bred. It’s not just me who thinks so.”
Which explains the strange looks you’ve been getting all night. They think that you won’t be able to raise a good, satanic child. You’re not sure if you should be offended or proud. But the reasoning behind it is still ugly and elitist, and makes your cheeks burn.
“Because your parents clearly did an upstanding job with you,” you retort. “Tell me, how much success has the Cassidy Real Estate Firm had in the last five years?”
George opens his mouth to speak, annoyance slowly changing to ire in his eyes.
“You’ll choose your next words wisely,” Titus’s face twists into something ugly.
“Why, what will you do? Kill me? Like you do with all of your other little petty squabbles?” He sighs and brushes Titus off. “Please Danforth, your brutality bores me.”
“If you value your position,” Titus spits, “or your life, you will apologize to my wife. Now.”
George glares down at you. You don’t waver, staring right back. This is a power struggle you want no part in. The only thing you can do is keep your hand on your stomach, rubbing your thumb back and forth gently, self soothing.
“I apologize if you feel I am mistaken,” he finally says, “I guess we’ll see how you perform when the time comes.”
George turns on his heels and leaves, disappearing into the crowd.
“I want that man’s head on a platter,” Titus seethes as he walks away.
You step in front of Titus, cutting off his line of sight, and bring your hands to his face.
“Look at me,” you whisper. “Come back to me.”
He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t look you in the eye. His gaze and attention are locked on George Cassidy disappearing into the crowd.
“I’m fine,” you take his hand and place it over your belly. “We’re fine. Let him go.”
You apply gentle pressure to his hand, letting him feel how your baby moves. The small squirming, the little kicks. Titus’s breathing evens out. He presses his other hand to your stomach, taking a deep breath.
“That guy is a dick,” you mutter.
Titus just nods, nostrils flaring as he takes a deep breath and brings his focus back to you.
“I’m going to get some cake,” you say, tugging on his sleeve. “You can either come with me or stay back here pouting and brooding.”
“I’ll come for cake,” he mumbles softly.
The shower ends the moment you start yawning and getting that glassy, weary look in your eye, blinking slowly and smiling softly. It’s not even late by Danforth party standards, just midnight. The music stops. The lights turn on. Titus sends everyone out, and the party ends in the blink of an eye.
You get ready for bed, donning a soft satin silk night gown that drapes heavily over you, bows at the front and on your sleeves. Titus is standing at his dresser, unbuttoning the last of his shirt. His eyes catch you and soften immediately.
It’s hard to resist. You press your hands to his abdomen, feeling as Titus’s muscles tighten under your touch.
“Thank you for tonight,” you mutter, pressing a kiss to his chest.
Titus lets out a breath, almost groaning at the feeling of your lips on him. Another kiss, and another, slowly working up to his collarbone. You take your time with him.
“You have nothing to thank me for,” his voice is low and gravelly.
“Okay,” you look at him from under your lashes. “Then I guess I’ll just…”
You start to lean away, a teasing smile on your face. But Titus reaches out and grabs your wrist gently. Just enough to keep you still. Keep you near.
“No,” he breathes.
Titus brings you back to him. You push his button up over his shoulders, letting the fabric fall to the floor. Your fingers glide over his shoulders, his strong triceps. He bends down and kisses you gently.
You let out a soft sigh, melting into his touch, your tongue swiping against his lips. The kiss deepens, and Titius’s hands on your hips bring you as close as your belly will allow.
“You shouldn’t be standing for this,” he teases, kissing the corner of your mouth, and just under your jaw.
“Take me to bed, then,” you smile.
By the time you settle in together, Titus has his head on your belly, idly rubbing his hand back and forth over the satin of your night gown.
“Have you thought of any more names?” you ask.
“You don’t like my name suggestions,” Titus snorts.
“I’m hoping that eventually I’ll ask you and you’ll start giving me normal ideas,” you say, raking your fingers through his hair.
“Allegra is a good, family name,” Titus says.
“And also the name of an allergy medication,” you counter. “Just, try again. We’ll agree on something eventually.”
Titus sighs and thinks for a moment. Your fingers single out one curl by his face, toying with it gently.
“What about Violet?” you ask.
Titus thinks for a moment, while you continue playing with his silver curls. “That’s nice,” Titus agrees. “Violet Danforth.”
“That’s the first name we’ve both liked,” you point out.
“Then that must be it.”
“We’ll see,” you say.
~~~
Titus calls a council meeting the next week. It’s not out of the ordinary for them to be called out of the blue, but you know something is up with this one. Titus was gone all morning, into the early afternoon. Normally, if he’s disappearing, he at least tells you where he’s going.
But this time he didn’t. And when you ask about it, he says he will tell you later.
As usual, you attend the meeting. Seated at Titus’s side in front of all the most important families of the Order of Le Bail. The attendees spare you a few lingering glances, but nothing that suggests the level of disdain that George obviously has for you. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe there’s not some secret distrust of you at Titus’s side.
“Now, to conclude. I have something to ask of everyone,” Titus casts you an affectionate glance, hand gently squeezing your thigh under the table. You have no idea what he’s about to do, or say. This wasn’t on the agenda.
“As you all know, Mrs. Danforth is expecting,” he presses a kiss to the back of your hand before rising from his seat. All eyes are on you, and you return each and every gaze. “It’s been brought to my attention that, for some reason, not everyone is happy about this joyful news.”
There are some nervous glances exchanged. You pay attention to those who now refuse to look you in the eye. Those whose guilt is now written on their faces.
“Some people, even, think that my wife is not- what was the wording?” Titus brings his hands down on one member’s shoulders, squeezing them. The man goes rigid under Titus’s touch. “Ah, ‘good stock’ I believe was the exact phrasing.”
You blanch and settle in your chair slightly, trying not to let any of the embarrassment show. Titus clearly did some more digging, and found more rumors that you aren’t privy to. The words being thrown in your face makes you want to crawl into a hole and never see the light of day. But Titus has taught you better. These people are on your property.
Besides, you weren’t about to let any cultists make you feel bad for attending public school.
“Does anyone share this sentiment? Anyone have anything to say?” Titus addresses the room, taking more meandering steps from council member to council member. “Please, this is a safe space. I want to hear your thoughts.”
No one speaks. The silence stretches out long with little more than strained glances and a slight nod here or a worried expression. Each person silently daring another to break the ice. Be the one to say the nasty thing they’re all thinking.
“I think,” a voice rings out at the end of the table. “There was just some concern that the child would not be brought up in accordance with society rules, Titus. Given your wife’s background.”
It’s Reggie. Small, annoying, Napoleon complex Reggie. The one who makes eyes at you while his wife drowns her sorrows in tequila in the corner of every society gathering.
Titus curls his lips in a humorless smile and nods his head. “I understand. Thank you, Reginald, for sharing that.”
In one motion, with no hesitation or second glance, Titus pulls a dagger from his sleeve and slams it onto the table, trapping Reggie’s hand to the mahogany. Reggie lets out a short, startled scream as blood pools between his knuckles. The entire table seems to lean away from Reggie, eyes wide as they process what the fuck just happened.
“Does anyone else have any concerns? About my family or otherwise?” Titus addresses the room. His demeanor is calm, nonchalant.
No one speaks. There’s just the sound of Reggie’s whimpers as he tries to free himself from the table. But Titus has never been lacking in brute strength, and the knife is wedged deep into the table through Reggie’s hand.
Satisfaction races through your heart. Maybe now Reggie will think twice before approaching you. And think even harder before thinking you’re just some passing obsession for Titus. Someone replaceable.
Titus nods to the staff standing guard at the door. One of them slips out for a moment, before coming back in with a silver platter, covered with a silver cloche.
“If any one of you had half the sense you claim to have,” Titus’s voice grows in volume and stature. “You will remember who is in charge here. Who Mr. Le Bail has trusted with his power. That honor lies with me,” his eyes snap to you, a small smile pulling at his mouth, “and my wife.”
You look down at the platter, and your heart lurches. It’s coming together in your mind. There’s a stench filling the room, and it’s not the piss in Reggie’s pants.
“My wife who, many of you have forgotten, has been through a great deal to sit by my side. If any one of you wishes to challenge that honor,” Titus lifts the cloche. “You will be sacrificed to the greater good.”
There’s a wave of shocked gasps and silent gagging. Hands brought to noses, dry heaves and coughs to clear the air. Your breath catches in your throat as the stench of decay slowly spreads through the room.
Titus did what he set out to do. George Cassidy’s head is on a platter.
You should be horrified. You should want to throw up at the sight. Well, you are feeling nauseous, but that started before the meeting.
All you see right now in Titus is a man that would go to the ends of the earth to defend you and your family. And that’s all you need.
“If no one has any other thoughts, I believe this meeting is adjourned,” Titus smiles. No one moves, frozen with fear and the inability to tear their eyes away from the spectacle.
“Get. Out.” Titus grits.
Everyone rises to leave all at once, with a member of staff having to remove the dagger to release Reggie. He cradles his wounded hand to his chest, the piss stain on the front of his pants trailing down his leg.
Once the room has been cleared, Titus replaces the cloche on the platter.
“Rejoin George’s head with the rest of his body,” he nods to the staff. “And clean Reginald’s fucking blood from the table. I don’t want it to stain.”
He returns to your side and presses a kiss to the top of your head.
“Subtle,” you look up at him.
“I was making a point,” Titus shrugs.
Titus takes you by the hand and helps you rise to your feet, hands supporting you all the way up.
“I thought you couldn’t kill other members of council families?” you ask.
“Yeah, but the Cassidy line doesn’t have a seat on the council. Besides,” Titus shrugs, “I didn’t kill him.”
You look at him flatly, one eyebrow raised.
“He ran into my dagger. A few times,” Titus says very casually.
You press your forehead into his shoulder, eyes closed and a slight smile on your lips.
“Come on,” Titus pulls you along. “That meeting was fucking boring.”
“Hail satan,” you mutter.
~~~
Lavender, chamomile, ginger.
Titus read online somewhere that those were the best essential oils for easing nausea and aching muscles. Whatever drives him, you don’t care, because it culminates in a very nice, very hot bath.
Steam rises from your bare bodies in the warm water, your hair clipped up to the back of your head and Titus holding onto you from behind. His body is your anchor, your tether, as usual. It’s quiet in the en suite bathroom, most of the estate has cleared out for the night, aside from the staff that live on site.
He’d been out on errands all day. Managing the resort, taking business meetings, meeting prospective business partners. You were driven down town to do some shopping for the nursery, and met up with a few of your friends for lunch, and picked up some plants for the garden.
You had really taken to spending more time outside in your pregnancy. It felt fitting. Sustaining new life while you were creating it. But you knew it was only a matter of time before your body would start rejecting all of the bending and digging. And based on how your muscles feel, that time has come.
These are your favorite moments with Titus. Dim, quiet, and alone with him. No one asking for signatures or approvals, and no one fussing over you and if you’d taken your vitamins. Just you two, without the dramatics of your life together.
Your belly bobs up and down in the water, the water easing your weighted and achy muscles. You can’t stop staring at it, touching it, running your fingers over it. Six months in, and you’re still not used to it.
“What are you thinking?” Titus presses a kiss to the top of your head.
“I feel like an alien,” you say, finger tracing your belly button. “Like, I know this is my body, but it doesn’t feel like my body. Almost like this is attached to someone else.”
“If it helps, I know this is your body,” his hands move through the water and gently coddle your breasts.
You lean back against his chest.
“You still like me? Like this?” you ask. It’s an innocent question. At least it was when you first thought of it. Now that you’ve said it out loud, it feels loaded. It feels like you don’t want to know the answer.
Titus stills behind you. He sighs, presses a kiss to your shoulder.
“How could I not?” His hands skate down your swollen stomach, to your hips, and the side of your ass.
Your hands press against the backs of his, lacing your pruny fingers together. Tears prick the corners of your eyes. You don’t even know exactly why you’re tearing up. You aren’t upset, and you know Titus wouldn’t lie to you. But it’s hitting something vulnerable inside you, shaking something loose. Suddenly your heart feels crushed.
“You are so beautiful, you don’t even realize it. You are perfect. Always have been and always will be,” his lips move right outside your ear, pressing a gentle kiss there.
You sigh, tilting your head to let his mouth travel further down your neck.
“Tell me you believe me,” he mutters.
“I believe you,” you say softly, voice wavering just a fraction.
“Now say it like you mean it,” he smiles against your shoulder.
You just nod your head, hoping that Titus can’t see how emotional this conversation is making you. Because the last thing you want to do is talk about it.
Titus maneuvers you a little higher in his lap, the warm water sloshing gently around you.
“What are you doing,” you mutter.
Titus’s hands spread over your thighs, moving slowly between your legs.
“Someone needs to be reminded,” Titus grunts, settling you. His fingers trace your cunt, “just how badly I want her. Always.”
You lean your head back on Titus’s shoulder, a silent gasp escaping you when his thick fingers finally slip inside you.
“Ti,” you whimper, trying not to squirm too much.
Titus brings his other hand over your sensitive breasts, twisting your nipples between two fingers. It makes you moan louder than you intend.
“That’s it,” Titus coos in your ear. “Relax, my love.”
He nibbles on your shoulder, sucking a bruise at the base of your neck and dragging his tongue over the skin to soothe it. You slide a wet hand back, tangling it in Titus’s hair at the back of his head to keep him close.
“You are so sexy,” Titus mutters in your ear, “I’ve never met anyone as strong as you.”
He’s knuckle deep with two fingers curling inside you, his palm pressing gently against your clit. It’s just enough friction to build that pressure in your core.
The tears are spilling over your cheeks now, all of the complicated emotions colliding in this moment. As they slide down your cheek and hang from your jaw, Titus gently tilts your head and kisses them away, his tongue sliding gently against your cheek.
“I can’t stop thinking about how I did this to you,” he mumbles in your ear. “I put this baby inside you. And you carry her so well. Fuck.”
“Titus,” you breathe, “I’m close. Please.”
His thumb presses against your clit, the pressure of it in the water duller than usual, but still there. Still enough. Titus holds your breasts in his other hand, gently massaging it as he whispers in your ear.
“Such a good mommy,” Titus mutters. “We’ll have to make another one soon after.”
Your toes curl and you cry out, legs quivering as you come on Titus’s fingers.
“So perfect,” Titus whispers. He pulls your chin towards him, and kisses you, stealing what little breath you have left.
~~~
The final few weeks of pregnancy are more languid. You couldn’t be stressed and frantic, even if you wanted to be. The nursery is set up. All of the supplies are ordered. Titus has already lined up a live-in nanny to arrive the moment your daughter is born. It’s all taken care of.
If anything, it almost freaks you out how little there is left to take care of. You feel like the other shoe is going to drop at some point, and you’ll wake up to realize that the baby is here, and you’re not nearly as prepared as you should be.
For some reason, you thought that your birthing story would be insane. A tall tale on par with the story of how you ended up married to Titus Danforth. Drama and tension and heartache. That’s what you’ve been mentally preparing for. You were subconsciously steeling yourself for heartache.
But everything was planned for. A home birth, and a team of experts at the ready. A single phone call is all that’s needed to bring them to your side.
You were sitting out in the garden, reading and catching a few chilly breaths of November air, when you felt it. Titus hated that you insisted on going outside as the New England fall turned darker and colder. But the chilly air was the only thing that made you feel better when your body started to ache, and your head was pounding.
Lately, you’d just been letting him argue with the wall while you put your coat on to get some fresh air.
Your daughter had kept you up most of the night with her acrobatics. It’s not like you blamed her. So near her due date, she was getting antsy, too.
Your attendants were scattered around the garden, pretending to tend to the dead plants and sweep up fallen leaves, when you knew they were just hovering. It was the balance between Titus not wanting you to be alone, and you needing to be alone.
It’s moments like these that you’re almost annoyed that he’s right.
Not that you would ever tell him that.
It felt like a sudden rush, a relieving of pressure.
You inhale deeply, closing your eyes to listen to your body. Listen to your daughter. Figure out if this is really it. You calmly close your book and set it on the iron table.
“Claire,” you tilt your head to the side.
When you move to rise to your feet, she’s on you immediately, hands flying everywhere to support you in any way possible. Elaine, an older attendant, comes rushing to your side to help.
“Yes, mistress?” she says, her bright eyes searching your face.
“Please locate my husband,” you say, trying to keep your breath as even as possible.
“He’s- he’s in his study, I don’t think- we’re not supposed to-” Claire rambles, clearly nervous about disobeying either of the Danforths.
“I understand,” you nod. “Tell him it’s time, and I’m sure he’ll forgive you for the intrusion.”
Claire’s eyes nearly pop from her head as she notices.
Your water has broken.
“Elaine,” you turn to the sweet attendant still at your side. “Please take me to the room we’ve prepared in the west wing of the house.
“Of course, ma’am,” she nods. “Please, take your time. The last thing I need is you stumbling on a loose paver.”
You smile and lean into her hold. It’s people like Elaine that make you feel less anxious in moments like this.
Titus bursts through the doors of the room, face flush from running to be with you. Claire scurries in behind him.
You’re not in any excruciating pain- at the moment- so you look at him with a serene expression.
“Hi,” you say, smiling at him.
He’s by your side in just a few long strides. “Where is the doctor?”
“On the way,” you nod. “Elaine has called her in.”
Titus’s hands flex at his sides. You look down. He’s shaking. Just a little.
You reach out and take his hands in yours, resting them over your belly.
“Everything is going to be fine. You’ve taken good care of us up until this point, okay? We’re going to be fine.” Titus has spent the last nine months fretting over you. Making sure you were eating, you weren't overexerting yourself, and that you were as prepared as possible to nurture this life.
He made it so that you felt strong enough to do this.
Titus takes a breath and nods.
Then, a contraction rips through you. Titus’s hands, which are unfortunately still held in yours, are crushed by your grip as you cry out in pain.
“Fuck!” you scream. It feels like you’re being cleaved in two.
“What! What is going on!” Titus blinks, alarmed by not only your scream, but your grip strength.
“Contraction,” the doctor says, rushing through the door with her team. “How far apart are they?”
“4 minutes,” Elaine says next to you.
Titus’s eyes flicker up to her.
“I’ve been timing them,” she shrugs.
“Thank you,” Titus nods stiffly.
You try to breathe through it, but the pressure on your low back is killing you.
“That’s good, Mrs. Danforth,” the doctor says. “You’re almost there.”
“They fucking suck,” you grit through your teeth.
Once it’s time to start pushing, Titus is hovering at a distance. He’s pacing, eyes bounce back and forth between the team of doctors. Arm crossing and uncrossing. He’s monitoring them, making sure none of them dares to make a mistake.
He’s doing what he knows how to do best. And, more than likely, doesn’t trust himself to be right at your side. Not when he might say the wrong thing. Instead, he tries to monitor and protect. But that’s not what you need right now.
“Titus,” you whine, the pain mounting. You’re already exhausted.
Your tone alone is enough to make him rush to your side.
“What is it? Is something wrong?” he pushes your hair, damp with sweat, away from your face.
“I can’t do this by myself,” your face twists.
Titus blinks, trying to understand what to do, who to be for you.
He takes your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles. “I’m right here, darling. I promise.”
It’s somehow the longest and quickest thing you’ve ever experienced. One minute, you feel like you’re going to pass out from the pressure. The next, you hear a shrill cry rip through the room. And you feel lighter.
Titus blanches, holding a hand to his mouth.
“What?” you pant, exhausted. “Is she okay? Titus.”
Titus leans over you, kissing your forehead. “You did amazingly.”
The doctors whisk her away, checking her and making your heart sink with every passing second. It’s agony, the waiting. Titus starts pacing again, checking over shoulders and coming back every so often to smooth his hands over your hair, soothing you as much as he’s capable of.
The doctor approaches you and Titus with a small blanket-wrapped bundle.
“Congratulations,” she nods, settling your daughter in your arms. “She’s extremely healthy and strong.”
“Just like her mother,” Titus whispers. You almost miss it, he says it so quietly, it’s almost just for himself.
“Oh,” you sigh, sweaty and blissful. “Hi there.”
Her scrunched up, bright red face and big eyes look up at you, taking it all in. You, high on adrenaline and joy (and pain medications), and Titus, flexing his hands at his sides.
Titus falls apart. Not openly. Not dramatically. But you can see the tears well in his eyes, and his bottom lip quivering.
“Titus,” you whisper. “Look at her.”
“Yeah,” he wipes his eyes and blinks, “she’s beautiful.”
You look up at him, your vision still a little cloudy.
“She looks like an alien,” you beam.
“Okay,” Titus breathes out a laugh. “A beautiful alien.”
You drop a finger onto her face, feeling her tiny soft cheeks. Her tiny lips. Her tiny everything.
“Titus,” you look up at him, “I changed my mind on the name. She just doesn’t look like a Violet.”
“Okay,” Titus nods.
“What do you think of Odette?”
You shift her in your arms towards Titus, who accepts her hesitantly. He holds your daughter like she’s a bomb, careful and on edge, and at a slight distance from his body.
But the longer he holds her, the closer she becomes, until he has her pressed against his body. He looks down at her with such pure love. A tear slides down his face. Vulnerable. Terrified. In love.
“Odette Danforth,” he says, trying the name on. “It’s perfect.”
pt 14 of baby daddy!pope and absolutely filthy gut wrenching fluff
all 3 of the men stood up, their mouths all slightly opened. "we are gonna go," deran said quietly and immediately, elbowing craig to get them moving as their eyes all remained on you and the gun. the vein in your neck was popping a little, face slightly red, but your grip on the gun was tight and steady. "jesus christ are you going to shoot him?" craig immediately spoke as they backed up towards the front door, your eyes never leaving pope. "she's not going to shoot me," pope groaned, glaring at the younger two as they scurried out the front door. he took a couple steps towards you, hand slightly raised at his sides. "i swear i didn't just leave it out. i was going to get a safe for it soon," he spoke calmly, your eyes still filled with anger. all you could do was roll your eyes, tossing the gun onto the couch that was beside him. you hated guns more than anything, but the fact there was one just carelessly laying around in your house with your daughter angered you more.
"get it the fuck out of my sight. if i find another one, we are going to have big problems," you threatened him, his head nodding quickly as he grabbed it carefully, his eyes still on you. you were quick to go back upstairs and grab sunny, coming back down to make your way to the kitchen. he hurried off somewhere to do what you assumed was hiding it, making sure to keep it somewhere that not only your daughter wouldn't find it but you as well. you knew it was probably an honest mistake, he could have just forgotten about it. but that wasn't enough. that wasn't okay. he had a daughter now that he needed to think about and he wasn't doing it. you didn't even hear him come in the kitchen as you pulled pots and pans out to start dinner, your daughter on your hip as you did. "you mad at me?" his voice spoke from the doorway as he watched you. the question only pissed you off even more.
of course you were fucking mad at him. furious. but you weren't going to give him a reaction, so you said nothing. his footsteps approached you from behind, his hand reaching to grab at your arm. you were quick to shake it off, pulling away from him as you moved around the kitchen. "i hate when you do that," he blurted out, a lot faster than he wished he would have. it made you freeze, your back still towards him as you stared down at the counter. "i wish you would just talk to me about things. wouldn't just shut down and be quiet," he sighed, moving to sit on the kitchen island as he stared at your back. you knew he wasn't completely wrong. you would shut down, go quiet, shrug it off and say things were fine. he knew better. he knew you like the back of his hand.
the silence continued as you moved to sit sunny in her highchair, setting some toys in front of her to play with as you cooked. "just talk to me," he snapped, voice raising which caused both you and your daughter to jump. he was never one to yell, especially at you or in front of your daughter. you could tell he regretted it as soon as he did it as a shaky sigh left his mouth. "can talk about it later. just wish you would be more careful with your things," you mumbled, turning your head to shoot him a very small smile before you were back to cooking. your emotions and reactions were something you knew you had to work on if things between the two of you were really going to work. he had to work on stuff too.
the rest of your cooking was done in silence, pope at some point taking sunny into the living room to play with her so she wasn't stuck to her chair. you were so caught up in your own thoughts the whole time, replaying the gun over and over again in your head. you knew he had dealt with shady people in the past, maybe it was just to defend himself in case. maybe it was because he was still doing things behind your back. "dinner's ready," you called out as you plated everything up, setting things down on the table for him and sunny before you were making your own plate. "looks good," he spoke quietly once he came in and got sunny seated, sitting down to look at his own plate. all you could do was put that same little smile on, nodding your head before you began to eat.
the whole dinner was silent besides the occasional scraping of a fork on a plate or your daughter babbling. "i'll get her cleaned up and in bed if you want to get things down here cleaned up. or i can do that too," pope spoke as he stood to grab all of the empty plates to take to the sink. "i can clean down here, thank you," you said quietly, wiping the food from sunny's face before pope was pulling her from the chair. you watched as he carried her up the stairs and into the bathroom, a small sigh leaving your lips. maybe you overreacted. for gods sakes you basically pulled a gun on him. all you could do was stare at the pile of dishes in the sink as you thought, your head starting to hurt just from your overthinking. you had to apologize.
the loud scrubbing of dishes was the only thing pope could hear as he carried your now clean daughter down the steps, peeking his head into the kitchen. his eyebrows immediately furrowed together tightly as he watched you scrub a dish over and over like your life depended on it. "hey," he spoke softly, trying his hardest not to scare you in your state of concentration. your hands immediately stopped and your head snapped in his direction, the front of your shirt totally soaked from over-washing everything. you looked absolutely insane. "how about i go run you a bath and you put her to bed, yeah?" he spoke quietly, making his way over to you. your daughter's arms immediately shot out, wrapping around your neck to cling to you. all you could do was nod, pope leaning forward to press a small kiss to your head before pushing you gently towards the steps.
you did exactly as he said, laying your daughter down in her bed as you sang softly to get her to sleep. you couldn't help but smile as you watched her now sleeping form, a small blanket tucked tightly to her chest. she looked just like him. you tip toed quietly out of her room, baby monitor in your hand as you shut the door as silently as possible not to wake her. a light from your new bedroom lit dimly down the hall, the sound of the bath filling up causing you to make your way towards it. pope was stood in the bathroom, standing over the tub with a bottle of wine in his hands as he watched it closely to make sure it didn't overflow. "will you get in with me?" you spoke quietly from the doorway, pope immediately turning around to nod his head. "yes of course. let me go get a glass and you get in," he mumbled, hand coming to cup your cheek and kiss you gently. it was like your stress had melted away just from his touch, pope pulling back to disappear down the hallway.
you were quick to undress, tying your mess of hair up as you slowly slipped into the warm bath. you couldn't help but giggle at the amount of bubbles he had put in and the small candles that were lit on the counter. he always tried his hardest to make things up to you. he stepped back in to the bathroom, a small smile on his lips as he handed you a glass of wine. "look so pretty," he hummed, beginning to strip quickly before he was slipping in across from you, your legs resting across his thighs under the water. "i am sorry for being crazy earlier," you finally spoke, taking a small sip of the wine as you stared across at him. he just chuckled, taking a swig of the beer he had brought in as his free hand moved to hold one of your ankles gently in the water.
"you aren't crazy. i should be more careful. i'm sorry," he apologized immediately, his thumb rubbing your skin gently. you could see he meant it, that small pout on his lip giving it away. "we just have a little baby around now. she likes to be curious and get into things," you spoke quietly, moving forward so your legs could wrap gently around his waist, leaning forward to press your lips to his. his free hand moved to rest on your back to keep you close, rubbing gently up and down. "i know. just don't want anything to ruin us. i need you and her forever. have missed out on too much," he mumbled as he pulled back, moving to bury his face in your neck. you couldn't help the blush that spread across your cheeks at his sweetness, your lips pressing soft kisses to his shoulder. "you'll have us forever. you better marry me eventually andrew cody," you teased him, pope quickly pulling back to stare at you with that straight face of his. your eyebrows immediately furrowed, bottom lip sucking in between your teeth at the thought that maybe you said the wrong thing. "you actually want to marry me?" he spoke, almost in disbelief. a small smile spread across your face as you leaned forward to press your lips back to his again, rubbing his cheek gently. "of course i do. i always have," you spoke softly as you pulled back to rest your foreheads together. he was quiet for a moment as he continued to hold you, his hand still rubbing your back gently. "why are we waiting? let's get married."
kay's note: i want to thank you guys soooo much for the love on this series. i think this is where i am going to leave it off for now!!!! if you want to see more baby daddy!pope send me some asks but this actual series i am stopping for now. thank you guys SOOOOO much. love you all. <3
sammy was chronically late to everything which pissed you off to no end. custody exchanges, picking your son up from school, and all of his extra curricular things you had him involved in. he was either 10 minutes late or an hour. he was always quick to say 'i have an important job sugar yknow'. your son didn't seem to mind, he was too young still to understand that being late to everything wasn't okay. he was just excited to see his daddy. and sammy would always make it up to him by bringing him a gift or letting him play with the sirens on his cruiser.
today was a prime example of his lateness. you were sat with the other moms watching your son play in his tball game. they were all gossiping about the others, talking about their shitty husbands, and cheering on their kids who could barely hit the ball. you didn't feed into their gossip, just watched your son play in the dirt when he was supposed to be playing first base. "is sammy coming?" one of them hummed to you, a small smile on her lips that had you internally gagging. "fuck if i know," you mumbled, chewing on the piece of gum in your mouth. he had a schedule of your son's games. he'd show up if he wanted, just wouldn't be on time.
the game felt like it was dragging on. little kids playing baseball was only tolerable for so long. "sammy's here," one of the mom's mumbled to you, nodding her head towards the parking lot where the police cruiser was pulling in. all you could do was shrug, keeping your eyes on the field. you could hear the jingle of his keys before he spoke, his annoying presence being sense right beside you. "hi sweetheart," he mumbled into your ear, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. all the other mom's snickered, your cheeks turning red. you refused to acknowledge him, it only pissing him off even more. it was only seconds before your son noticed him, coming running off the field to hug on sammy's legs. "hi buddy," sammy hugged to the little boy, picking him up to spin him around. you sighed, moving to stand now with your arms across your chest.
"you're supposed to be on the field, baby. can see daddy after your game," you hummed to your son, sammy only shooting you a glare as he sat your son down so he could run back to the fence. he turned to you now, his teeth clenched together so tight it made his jaw twitch. "why do you do that? just wants to see his daddy," he mumbled to you, your eyes immediately rolling as you scoffed. "he's here to play baseball. if you were here on time you could've seen him before the game," you snapped right back at him, his hand moving to rest on your hip gently. "you know i have to work," he spoke with a fake pout, speaking a little louder so the other parents could hear that 'he was trying he's just soo busy.'
you immediately stepped away, his hand immediately reaching to hook a finger into one of the belt loops of your jeans to yank you forward and back to him. "don't fucking embarrass me in front of these people. let's play nice, yeah?" he mumbled in your ear, a lump forming in your throat. you simply stayed silent, arms crossed tightly over your chest. god he was so annoying. the rest of the game went on miserably slow. sammy playing super dad, talking with the other dads, and flirting with the moms who spoke to him in an attempt to make you jealous. not working.
"your son is cute," one of the dad's who you knew to be single coming up to you as sammy wandered off to talk to some of the other dads. you couldn't help but smile as you looked out at your son before back to the man, a small blush on your cheeks. "oh, thank you. yours is too," you spoke back, the smile never leaving your face as the two of you chatted. what you didn't see behind you was sammy staring daggers into the back of your head, his fists clenched tightly at his sides as he watched this man attempt to make the moves on you. pathetic.
"hi, i don't think we've met. i'm officer bryant," sammy's voice cut into your conversation, his hand coming to rest on your lower back. the man was friendly, quick to introduce himself to your ex husband. you knew what game sammy was playing out. who could be the best man. "oh, are you guys together?" he questioned, an eyebrow raising slightly at sammy's hand resting on your back. "yes," sammy spoke immediately, patting your back gently which only caused you to roll your eyes. "he's my ex husband." "we are working it out." "no we aren't." the two of you continued to go back and forth, the man obviously confused and somewhat intimidated.
"it was really nice meeting you. i'll see you around, yeah?" the other father spoke to you before he was walking away. you were quick to swat sammy's hand from your back, turning to look at him with furrowed eyebrows. "you're so fucking annoying, seriously," you spat at him, going to walk away but he was quick to grab your wrist and yank you back to him. "stop trying to get a quick fuck in when i'm not looking," he mumbled in your ear, his grip on your wrist only tightening. you couldn't help the smirk that grew on your lips, snatching your wrist back to him. "i don't do it when you're not looking. i do it when you're busy actually watching our son and you aren't around," you smirked back at him, finally turning to walk away.
pissed was an understatement when it came to his mood.
I love girl dad Andrew but I'm just so so so fucking soft for and in love with boy dad Andrew. 🥹 You know that man was a teary mess in the best way a half of a nanosecond after hearing his son's first cry. Then hours later when you're finally letting yourself try to get some rest and he's holding his tiny little newborn in just a diaper against his bare chest with a blanket covering them, tears would silently start to wet his cheeks again when you're watching them and murmur "my boys" just loud enough for him to hear right before your eyes flutter closed. And he would never, ever, ever get over you calling them that no matter how much time had passed. 🥹🥹🥹🥹 I'm very soft today.
Him in the hospital with you nervous as fuck please god.
finally watched down to you and it was such a bore but shawn's character eddie was so cute and ended up with a nerdy girl who likes sharks (like me) so I can forgive it being bad
Summary: The first thing Andrew Cody does when he’s out of prison is track you down, the object of his obsession. At first he tries to stay away from you, observing from a careful distance, but when his desire to be close to you gets too strong, he gives in and makes contact with you.
Warnings/tags: Age gap (reader is in her 20s and Andrew is late 30s), limerence, parasocial behaviour, stalking, unhealthy attachment, unhealthy family dynamic, obsessive behaviour, mental health issues, angst, brief moment of violence, swearing, mention of death, mention of drugs, breaking and entering, no use of y/n
Word Count: 6,990
Author's note: NOT PROOFREAD. This is a hefty chapter to make up for the fact that it took so long. Sorry for the long wait on this chapter; there’s so much drama going on at my work. I just wanted to start off by saying thank you to everyone who read the first chapter. All the kind comments, likes, and reblogs mean so much to me and as a writer, they give me so much motivation. I’m been working on this series for a while and it makes me so happy to see you guys enjoying it! I love writing Pope and Lena, they're so cute and in my mind, at the end of Animal Kingdom, he adopted her and they lived happily ever after. Thanks for reading and I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!
The first thing Andrew did after getting out of prison was track you down. Thanks to his family connections and his overall intimidating demeanor, all it took was a couple hundred dollars to bribe his family’s connect at the California Department of Motor Vehicles and a few hours later, Andrew had your home address, licence plate, and place of employment. He wanted nothing more than to use that information to go see you, but he knew prison had changed him for the worse. He wasn’t well socialized- not that he was to begin with, but from all the time he spent in solitary, he had forgotten what real human interaction was like.
In order to be his best around you, Andrew stood in front of the Cody house, preparing himself to see his family. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his jeans as he stared at the house. After three years and nineteen days at Folsom, he was finally out of prison. His early return would be a surprise to them because he didn’t tell them that he was granted parole. He had been turned down by the parole board so many times that he had given up hope. Despite his complicated feelings towards Smurf, he had missed her and he wanted her comfort. After all, that’s how she conditioned her children, no matter what she did to them, they always came back running to her when they needed their mother.
There was loud rock music blasting from the speakers inside, the splashing sound of water coming from the pool, and people laughing, another one of Smurf’s parties. Andrew stalked past the partygoers- young women in tiny bikinis that left little to the imagination and drunk guys doing stupid dares. He briefly glanced around the pool before heading inside towards his room.
As he walked down the hallway, he heard noises coming from his room. He assumed that some partygoers had gone in to hook up. He walked inside his room to kick them out when he found a teenage boy in the closet putting on a t-shirt. Andrew stood quietly, hidden by the closet door and watched him.
“Jesus!” the teenager yelped when he noticed Andrew staring at him. He stumbled back into the nightstand behind him and knocked over a lamp.
Andrew stood there, unfazed by the teenager’s reaction. He had gotten used to people being scared by his unsettling presence. He had a knack for sneaking up on people, even when he didn’t mean to. “Who are you?” he asked, staring down at the stranger in his room.
Suddenly, Smurf’s voice called out from behind the closed door, “J, honey, are you okay?”
Andrew turned around, reacting to Smurf’s voice before he looked back at the teenager. “Who’s J?”
“I’m, um- I’m Josh. Julia’s kid,” the teenager stuttered, shaken up by Andrew’s intimidating gaze.
“She’s here?” Andrew’s face lit up and his voice softened at the mention of his sister, Julia. The last time he saw her was when Smurf kicked her out of the house because she was asking for drug money. Growing up as twins, Andrew and Julia were inseparable but they slowly drifted apart when Julia got hooked on drugs. When the time came where he was forced to choose between Smurf or Julia, he chose Smurf, which was a choice that he had grown to regret.
“No,” J replied with a blank expression on his face. It had only been a day since his mother overdosed on the couch in their crappy apartment. After the paramedics failed to revive her, he called Smurf and she took him in.
“J, can you hear me?” Smurf asked as she walked into the room through the glass sliding door. She was wearing a sheer peach coloured cover-up with a black bikini underneath, not something a typical mother, let alone grandmother would wear. “J, love, what happened-”
Smurf froze and her face fell as soon as she saw Andrew. She couldn’t hide her surprise. He wasn’t supposed to be out of prison for another three years. The past three years with him in prison had been good for the rest of the family. They had fallen into a good groove without having to deal with his unsteadiness and mood swings.
Andrew looked at J and sighed, “You just ruined my surprise.”
Smurf recovered quickly and plastered a big smile on her face. “Hey, baby,” she sighed softly, reaching her arms out to him.
Andrew embraced her hug and leaned his head on her shoulder, facing his head away from her. It had been so long since he felt Smurf’s touch. He sighed with content as she soothingly rubbed her hands across his back, relishing in the feeling of his mother’s love and comfort that he had gone three years without.
J stood in the corner, watching awkwardly as Smurf’s smile dropped. It was clear she wasn’t happy to see Andrew. There was a mix of disappointment, frustration, and a hint of fear in her expression. But she continued holding him tightly as she patted his back, earning soft contented sighs from him.
“Let’s go get your brothers so we can talk,” Smurf said, taking Andrew by the hand and leading him out of the room.
The Cody family gathered in the living room while the party continued outside by the pool. Andrew sat on the couch with his arm around Smurf while she had her hand resting on his thigh. Deran and Craig were sitting across from them. Baz and his girlfriend, Catherine were sitting together on the other side of the coffee table. J stood in the corner, watching them from a distance.
“Why didn’t you tell us you were up for parole when I visited you last week?” Baz asked.
“I figured that I’d get rejected like the last two times,” Andrew shrugged. “But they told me someone wrote a letter advocating for my early release.”
“Who did that?” Deran asked.
Andrew furrowed his brows and frowned, “I thought it was one of you.”
“Dude, do you really think we’d write a fucking letter?” Craig laughed. “I mean, sure, we wanted you back home but none of us are really letter writing people.”
“Well it was about time that parole board came to its senses. Six years for a bank robbery where only one person got hurt. The three you’ve done are crime enough, baby,” she said, kissing Andrew on the cheek.
The fact that no one in his family bothered to advocate for his release saddened him. He couldn’t help but wonder who else would’ve gone to the trouble of writing a letter to the parole board, but he pushed those thoughts away and reserved them for later, wanting to enjoy this time with his family.
“Three years and nineteen days,” Andrew corrected, glancing over at Baz who couldn’t quite meet his glance. After all, Baz was the reason Andrew had gone to prison in the first place.
“We’re so happy to have you home. I’m just sorry you had to come home to the news about Julia,” Smurf sighed as if she was upset about Julia’s passing. In truth, she had stopped caring about Julia back when Julia was a teenager and she showed interest in a world outside of illegal activities.
“I’m gonna go pick up Lena,” Catherine said to Baz. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and walked out the door.
“So, you’re living here, huh, J? Part of it all now?” he asked in an antagonistic tone, looking around at his brothers and Smurf. Having J move into the house was one thing, but moving J into his room was another and both things upset Andrew. He had a nagging feeling in his chest that he had been replaced and he hated it.
“I’ve gotta get to my girlfriend’s house,” J said to Smurf.
“Okay, baby, we’ll see you later,” Smurf smiled.
J nodded and took one more look at Andrew who was staring daggers at him before he quickly left.
“Relax, dude, he’s only been here for a day,” Craig sighed as he rolled a joint.
“He’s a good boy,” Smurf said.
“Yeah, you should ease up on the kid, Pope. His mom just died,” Baz nodded.
Andrew shot a glare at Baz. He didn’t like how quickly everyone was defending J. It felt like his position in the family was being threatened. Andrew knew better than anyone that Smurf’s love was limited, there was never enough of it to go around and over the past few years, he had depended on her love to function. But he tried to let go of his animosity, at least for the time being because he didn’t want to ruin his first day home. “So, what are we planning next?” he asked.
Baz, Craig, and Deran all looked to Smurf, waiting for her permission before speaking.
Andrew looked at his brothers and scoffed. “You’re not gonna tell me? What- I’m not part of it anymore?”
“Don’t be like that, baby. This is your first day out of prison. You’re gonna sit this one out and wait until the next one,” Smurf said in a soft yet firm tone, rubbing her hand on his thigh.
“Where exactly am I supposed to sit when J is in my room?” Andrew questioned, glaring at Smurf.
“You can sleep on the sofa- just for a few nights,” she replied.
“Wow…” Andrew muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Pope, you’re gonna have parole officers coming in and out, taking piss tests from you whenever they want. We can’t work on our shit if they’re doing that,” Baz explained in a logical tone that only annoyed Andrew even more.
“Fine! I’ll just crash at my place,” Andrew snapped.
“Oh shit,” Craig chuckled.
“We sold your apartment,” Baz sighed, running his fingers through his hair.
“You did what?” Andrew questioned. It felt like all his worries about getting replaced or pushed out of the family while he was in prison had actually come true. While he was getting tortured by the prison guards, his family was moving on and building a new life without him.
“It’s not a big deal. We’ll get you a new place,” Baz shrugged.
This was not the homecoming that Andrew expected. Everything was out of order. J was in his room. His apartment was gone. He wasn’t being included in the new jobs. And Julia was dead. “Fine,” he said. He stood up and walked towards the door.
“Where are you going?” Smurf called out.
Andrew ignored her, grabbed the keys to the truck, and walked out of the house. He needed to get out of that house, away from all the noise and new shit. Once he got into the black pick-up truck, he started driving to your apartment.
After his less than perfect homecoming, Andrew needed you more than ever. While he was in prison, he had countless imaginary conversations with you and in his mind, you were already his. In fact, you had become his the second he laid eyes on you. He had been relying on you to center him, ground him. You represented the promise of a better future, one filled with love and happiness, which he dreamt of fulfilling. The single thought of you carried him through his sentence. Despite all the torture, loneliness, and the general horrors of prison, it all stopped affecting him when he found you.
He sat in his black truck, parked across the street from your apartment building. Although he had your unit number, he didn’t know the layout of your building and he wasn’t about to risk getting caught this early by you so he waited until you came out or came back home. All those years of following people around for family business was finally going to pay off. If everything went according to plan, by the end of the week, he would know your daily routine like he knew the back of his hand. To anyone else, this would have been considered plain as day stalking, but in Andrew’s mind, this was merely dutiful surveillance. He wanted to know everything there was to know about you so when the time came, he could perfectly integrate his life with yours.
Three hours had passed since he arrived at your building. The hot California sun was beating down on the car, causing sweat to bead down his forehead and dampen his short hair. As much as he wanted to blast the air conditioner, he didn’t want to accidentally attract the attention of any neighbours by keeping his engine running.
Just when he was about to open the car window for some fresh air, you walked out of your building. He quickly put on his black sunglasses to cover his face in case you looked over at his direction. His heart started pounding the second he laid eyes on you. You carried a tote bag slung over one shoulder, a stack of books in one hand, and your phone in the other hand. You were wearing casual clothing, similar to what you had worn when you were volunteering at Folsom. A soft breeze floated through the air, blowing through your pretty hair and showcasing your beautiful face.
Andrew’s breath got caught in his chest, as if he had suddenly forgotten how to breathe, how to function because all he could think about was you. After all these years, there you were, fully living, breathing, and real. In the countless dreams he had of you back at Folsom, he had never dreamt you this clearly before.
You opened the door of your beat-up, old car and carefully placed your stack of books on the seat. He smiled to himself as he watched you strap the seatbelt around the books. Once the books were secure, you closed the door and got into the driver’s seat. As soon as you started driving, Andrew shifted his gear into drive and began following you from a careful distance.
Your first stop was a coffee shop. He watched you chat with the barista while they made your drink and he made a mental note to figure out your drink order. Your bright smile and effortless charm had all the coffee shop employees smiling at your small talk. Andrew wished that he was inside there so he could hear your voice, little to your soft giggles. He yearned to be on the receiving side of your smile, a smile so beautiful and warm that he would feel weak in the knees. After leaving the coffee shop, you drove to the Oceanside Library. You carried the books in one hand, drink in the other, and had your tote bag balancing on your forearm as you walked up the stairs and into the library.
Andrew was itching to follow you inside but he waited ten minutes, wanting to make sure you were situated so he wouldn’t accidentally run into you. After those agonizingly long ten minutes, he got out of the car and walked into the library. Despite growing up in Oceanside all his life, this was his first time at the library. Smurf had never prioritized education in any of her children’s lives, not that any of the Codys, except for Julia, had a penchant for academia. The cool air conditioned building was modern, like it had been newly renovated but there was still some charm. Tall wooden bookcases stood across the carpeted floor in neat rows, filled with books organized by genre and alphabetized by author last names. There were large wooden desks situated between book cases with plastic chairs that reminded him of the ones in a school.
Except for the buzz of the air conditioner, shuffling of books, and the soft chatter of students studying, the library was quiet, much quieter than any of the places Andrew had been before. He could see why you worked here, love for reading and books aside, the library was peaceful. It felt like a safe haven for like minded people who wanted a quiet place to exist. He also liked how organized everything was, there was a specific place for everything and a thoughtfully designed system. Without even meaning to, he started browsing the book shelves, his fingers gently caressing the book spines as he turned it over to read the back covers.
“Hi, did you find everything alright today?”
Andrew spun his head around and followed your voice. It had the exact same effect on him as it did when he first heard you three years ago, immediately captivating him and casting a comforting blanket of serenity over his otherwise tense self. You were standing in the centre of the library at the front desk, helping a student check out books.
“Yeah, just picking up some assigned reading for school.”
“I read these books when I was in high school. I guess the curriculum hasn’t changed much,” you remarked while scanning the books through the system. You held up a copy of Fahrenheit 451 and The Great Gatsby.
Andrew had never heard of either of those books. He figured he was kicked out of high school for stealing computers from the computer lab before his English class got around to them. As he watched you talk about books with the student, a wave of uneasiness washed over him and he suddenly felt insecure about his lack of knowledge. He wanted to be able to fully understand you, every thought and idea from your brilliant mind and in order to do so, he realized that he would have to smarten up. Sure, when it came to breaking into buildings, robbing various types of establishments, and beating someone up, he was pretty much a genius thanks to years of experience but when it came to critical literacy, he wasn’t at the same level as you. He decided that he would go to a bookstore and read books on every topic you would be interested in.
You helped a few other people check out their books before your coworker took over at the front desk. You started walking around the library with a cart filled with books. You took your time organizing them in their respective sections. When a book was slightly protruding from the otherwise neatly lined stack on the shelf, you popped it back in place, a small action that had Andrew’s heart racing even more than it already was. He admired your knack for organization because he was the exact same way. As you walked down the sections of the library, he skillfully followed you, pausing every so often to look at backs to keep a safe distance and ward off any suspicions from others that he was following you.
After spending four hours at the library watching you, Andrew decided it was time to leave and wait in his car for you. While he sat in silence, he went over everything he had observed about you from the past few hours. You spent the most time between the nonfiction and bildungsroman sections of the library where you took a break from organizing and flipped through some of the books. He noticed you would read the same page multiple times and your eyes would light up with excitement when you flipped to the next page. Your eyebrows furrowed together in concentration as you read the back covers before bringing some of the books to the front desk where you scribbled your name down on a sticky note and placed it on the books. Halfway through your shift, you sat down at the only section in the library where food was allowed and ate your lunch. You took small bites while reading a book you had pulled out of your tote bag. Whenever someone approached you for help finding a book, you greeted them with a kind smile and dutifully led them around the library.
It was just a few hours later when you finally left the library. You walked down the stairs and headed towards your car. On the drive back to your apartment, you stopped by the beach. Andrew watched you carefully from the pier, staring down at you with an intensity unlike anything else. You sat down on the sand with your legs crisscrossed and closed your eyes, breathing in the fresh air. When you finally opened your eyes, you stared out into the ocean, completely still and silent.
There was an indiscernible expression on your face, melancholy washing over your features. He had never seen someone look so sad and beautiful at the same time. Your hand reached up to caress your left collarbone, fingers gently moving back and forth against your skin while you exhaled unsteady breaths. His fingers fidgeted at his hands, his fists clenching and unclenching as he fought back the overwhelming urge to hold you, make sure you felt cared for. He wanted to know why you were so sad so he could make you feel better. It was agonizing to watch you, looking so melancholic. It hurt him to know that you were hurting and it hurt even worse to know that at that moment, he couldn’t do anything to help you.
You remained seated there for another few minutes until you finally stood up and wiped the sand off of your clothes. On your way back to the car, you glanced at his black truck parked across the street from yours. Andrew’s breath hitched when he noticed what you were looking at, his brain was suddenly racing with a thousand fears, wondering if you noticed he had been following you. But then you looked away and got into your car, driving home.
It had been two weeks of following you nearly every single day and Andrew had your entire routine memorized. Every morning, like clockwork, on the way to the library, you would stop by a coffee shop in your neighbourhood and get your usual drink. He knew that you always picked the olives off of your pizza because you didn’t want to be a difficult customer by asking for pizza with no olives. While you sat by the window of the pizza shop, he sat in his car with your usual order, watching you eat at the same time he did. You loved watching reality tv shows and you would yell at the tv when the contestants did something stupid. Andrew had never watched a single reality tv show in his life until he met you and suddenly, he was moderately invested in Love Island. At least once a week, after work, you would go to the beach, sit on the sand, and stare into the ocean.
Watching you from afar wasn’t enough for him and the thought of approaching you seemed too daunting, so despite his initial moral declinations, he took a step closer to the edge, blurring the line of infatuation into obsession. Now that he had your schedule memorized, when you were at work, he would break into your apartment and live in your space for a few hours. He always made a point to keep everything exactly as you left it, fighting back the compulsion he felt to tidy it up because he didn’t want to leave any trace of himself behind. He would use your shower and spray your perfume on his t-shirt so he could smell like you. He would lay in your bed, inhaling your scent from the sheets and stare up at the ceiling.
Sometimes he would hold your pillow, his arms tightening around it so it was pressed up against his body and he would close his eyes, pretending that it was you. The first few times he broke into your apartment, he tried his best to be polite and unintrusive, avoiding your underwear drawer. But eventually, temptation won out and the second he pulled open your drawer, he felt like he had just uncovered a treasure chest. Laid out neatly were dozens of pairs of underwear, lace, satin, and cotton underwear in a variety of colours and differing styles from thongs, boyshorts, briefs, and g strings. Without allowing himself a moment to think rationally, Andrew took a black lace thong and shoved it into the pocket of his jeans.
Much to the confusion of his family, despite still not being allowed on any jobs, Andrew appeared to be busier than ever. He was rarely at home and when he was, he seemed too preoccupied with his thoughts of you to be able to focus on anything else. His latest consuming thought related to you was fighting back the urge to make contact. Every second he spent within your vicinity, he could feel his body gravitating towards you.
But the first time he actually spoke to you was when you approached him. As usual, he was in the library, watching you under the guise of browsing books. You had fallen out of his line of sight and right when he was about to turn around, he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder.
“Hi, are you looking for something?” you asked, introducing yourself to him.
You were standing close to him, closer than he had ever gotten to you. The smell of your perfume flooded his senses and he could feel the tip of his ears turning red. It felt surreal for Andrew to finally be standing in front of you, the object of his obsession. He didn’t know how to breathe, let alone speak when he was so close to you. In all his dreams and fantasies, the only visualization he had of you was that picture he had cut out from the library program pamphlet. Suddenly there you were, standing before him, as clear as day and you looked even more beautiful than he remembered.
“Books,” he said hesitantly, looking over at you. He hated how awkward he sounded.
As much as Andrew fantasized about you in prison, he skipped to the good part where you knew him and loved him. He had glazed over the part where he needed to introduce himself to you and get close first. Now, he was beginning to realize that he needed to actually get you to fall in love with him. Just as he did back at Folsom, every time he saw you, his heart would start pounding and he couldn’t come up with a single thing to say. All he could do was just stare at you with his intense gaze so many people instinctively fled from.
He wished that he was charming and charismatic like Baz. His brother had more women than he could handle, each more crazy in love with him than the last. There was a seemingly endless revolving door of women for Baz, despite the fact that he was with Catherine. Andrew felt a sense of fear and worry that you would be scared of him. Although it was useful for family business, deep down, he hated the jumpscare effect that he had on people, the way people would visibly flinch at seeing him and back away.
“Okay,” you chuckled softly, “Well you’ve come to the right place. We’ve got thousands of books here. Is there a particular genre you’re interested in?”
It took Andrew a few seconds to answer your question. The close proximity was making his brain short circuit. He hadn’t expected this to happen not only so soon, but because you had approached him first. “Kids books.”
“Our kids books are on the other side. I’ll show you. What kind of books does your kid like?”
“I don’t know. I wanna get some for my niece- Lena, she’s seven years old.” Although Lena wasn’t actually the reason he was at the library, he figured it would be good to pick up some books for her. Although he wasn’t there for most of her life, he loved that little girl dearly.
“Seven, okay,” you nodded. You stood still for a second and looked around.
Andrew was amused by the look of concentration on your face, the slight furrow of your eyebrow and the way your bottom lip pouted slightly. His expression softened as he stared at you, his eyes full of adoration.
“Well, these are the most popular books. We’ve got some fairies, princesses, superheroes, animals, mermaids, and detectives…”
“Animals,” he said, his voice coming out gruffer than he intended. “She likes animals.”
“Animals, okay perfect! Do you know what Lena’s favourite animals are?”
He felt ashamed that he didn’t know the answer. He shrugged his shoulders and stared at the ground, afraid that you would think less of him.
“Hey, that’s okay,” you said softly. You reached out and patted his forearm, giving it a reassuring squeeze before you bent down to pick out some books.
Andrew’s eyes widened, his pupils dilating as he stared down at his forearm. His skin felt like it was on fire and he could feel the ghost of your touch lingering. He couldn’t believe that you had just touched him, unprompted and unexpected, all because you had sensed his shame and decided to comfort him. The action meant more to him in that moment than he could ever begin to articulate.
“Here, I’ve got some books with lions, cheetahs, elephants, dolphins, and dogs. What do you think?” you asked, standing up and showing him the books.
“Good,” he nodded. His voice was hoarse and his mouth was suddenly dry. It felt like everything was happening so fast. Although all you did was touch his forearm, the intensity he felt between you and him was unlike anything he had ever experienced. Being the object of your attention was all consuming and he felt as if nothing else in the world mattered as long as you were looking at him.
“Perfect. You can follow me to the front desk and I’ll get your books checked out.” You led him towards the front desk and stood behind the counter. “Do you have a library card?”
“No, it- it’s my first time.”
“Okay, if you want, I can get you registered with one? I just need some of your information. It’s completely free and it gives you unlimited digital access to books and you get to check out up to 50 books at a time,” you explained.
“What information do you need?”
“Photo-id and proof of residence in California.”
Andrew hesitated for a moment, the only id he had at the moment was his corrections id card he had gotten from prison. He didn’t want you to know that he was a convict, at least not yet. He had dozens of fake ids stuffed into his wallet but he didn’t want his relationship with you to be built off of lies. Tentatively, Andrew reached into his back pocket and pulled out his corrections identification card. His pulse quickened as he handed it to you, fear paralyzing him that you would be shocked, repulsed, or worst of all scared.
But you weren’t any of those things. Your expression didn’t even falter for a second as you took his card in your delicate hand and inspected it. “Andrew Cody,” you said, reading off of the card.
His chest tightened as you said his name. It had a different inflection coming from your pretty lips. You said it as if it wasn’t associated with blood, violence, and stealing.
“What prison were you in? Sorry, if that’s too personal, it’s just that I used to volunteer at Folsom.”
His heart skipped a beat at the mention of Folsom, the first place he had laid eyes on you.
“I was at Folsom,” he replied, glancing at you to gauge your reaction.
“You just got out and your first stop is getting books for your niece? That’s so sweet,” you smiled. You scanned the books and began typing into the computer.
While you were focused on setting him up with a library card, Andrew took his time watching you. He had never managed to get this close to you before. His eyes methodically scanned everything about you. Your bright eyes, pretty hair, soft kissable lips, and perfect body. Everything about you was so inviting that Andrew had to clench his jaw to keep himself from reaching out and touching you.
“Alright, well, you’re all set, Andrew. Your library card will be mailed to your address in about two weeks and those books are officially checked out under your name,” you said cheerfully.
“Thank you,” he nodded, taking the books in his hand.
“Let me know if Lena likes the books!” you called out as he began walking out.
It was official. After three years of thinking about you and two weeks of following you, Andrew had finally made contact with you. Now he could start building the relationship he had dreamed of.
From that moment on, Andrew began coming to the library to talk to you. He knew that he wasn’t a great conversationalist due to his closed off and awkward nature but you never seemed to mind. You happily answered every question he had, no matter how blunt or intrusive they came off as. You started calling him your favourite regular. The first time you said those words to him, he thought his heart could have exploded from happiness right there and then. His eyes lit up, wide and bright while his mouth hung slightly open, the corners tilting upwards, almost resembling a smile.
Andrew tried not to come every single day, not wanting to scare you, so he came a few times a week, which was still enough to catch your attention. He had even brought Lena with him on a few occasions after you told him about the children’s reading hour the library hosted every week. To his pleasure, Lena absolutely fell in love with you. You greeted her with stickers and a carefully curated selection of children’s books. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched you interact with Lena.
When you invited him to an after hours adult reading event, Andrew spent hours picking out the perfect shirt to wear. He finally settled on a lavender button-up shirt and simple blue jeans.
“Hey, there’s my favourite regular,” you smiled, waving as you walked over to him. He froze in his tracks as he took in your dress, showing off your legs and the thighs. Your hair was slightly undone in an effortlessly natural way. His pupils were dilated just from staring at you, overtaken by your beauty.
Andrew tried to fight back the blush that he could feel appearing across his cheeks. He gave you a small smile as he awkwardly stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Hi.”
“You look nice. That’s a great shirt,” you complimented. Your hand reached out to touch the fabric, causing Andrew’s breath to hitch when he felt your hand along the collar of his shirt.
“Thank you,” he replied breathlessly, still not used to the way you would randomly reach out and touch him. All his life, physical touch and affection was always something that had to be paid for or earned, but you never hesitated to touch him, whether it be a squeeze of his forearm or tapping his shoulder. If anything, it meant even more to Andrew that these were relatively innocent touches because it showed that you had good intentions, your touches were gentle, kind, and pure, just like you.
“So for these adult reading events. We invite an author to come speak about their book, read an excerpt, and then afterwards everyone just talks and drinks,” you explained, leading him around the reading area. The lights were off in every part of the library except for the carpeted reading area. Drinks and snacks were laid out across one of the large wooden desks.
“Good evening everyone, I’ll start off by reading an excerpt of my new novel.”
Andrew sat down on the plastic chair beside you. His knee was just inches apart from yours, one right move and he would be touching you. He tried his best to focus on what the author was saying but he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. Everything about you was mesmerizing, he felt spellbound by you. He stared at you with such reverence, as if you were an angel shining down on him, which to him, you were. Every second spent in your presence had him feeling so much lighter, like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders.
“She’s such a talented writer,” you whispered to him. Your breath fanned against his ear and he shivered.
“Yeah,” he nodded absentmindedly. He shifted slightly in his seat, causing his knee to press against yours. He waited with baited breath for you to move your leg away from his but you never did. Instead, you kept your eyes glued on the author, taking in every word.
Finally, when the author finished speaking, a polite round of applause sounded from the small crowd before everyone slowly dispersed and moved over to the drink table.
“So, what did you think?” you asked, looking over at Andrew.
“Of what?”
You giggled, the corners of your eyes creasing slightly as you smiled at him. “Of the author.”
“Oh, it was good,” he shrugged.
“I knew it. You weren’t paying attention, right?” You crossed your arms together, unintentionally pressing your breasts upwards, and looked at him with an amused expression.
“It was long,” he sighed, nervously scratching the back of his neck. Even after all this time he had spent with you, having your full attention on him still made him nervous. He wasn’t used to someone talking to him, simply for the sake of wanting to know what he thought or felt.
After a few drinks, the crowd started exiting the library while your coworkers who organized the event began closing up. Andrew walked out with you towards your car where the two of you lingered outside. A cool evening breeze drifted past, making your hair blow slightly in the wind.
“Well, thanks for coming tonight, Andrew. It’s really important for the library when people come to these events,” you smiled, squeezing his bicep. You leaned against your car and stared at him.
“You’re welcome,” he nodded. Just as he was about to lean against the car beside you, he spotted a man walking out of the bar and crossing the street towards the library, coming closer to you.
“Hey you!” the man called out. His voice was slurred and he stumbled slightly as he stalked towards you.
Andrew immediately became alert. His body tensed up and his fists became clenched at his sides as he stood in front of you, shielding you from the man.
“Library bitch! I got a $250 overdue book fine in the mall this morning! What the fuck is your problem?”
Things that were barely imperceptible to anyone else were noticed by Andrew, when it came to you, he noticed everything. He saw the way your body language changed as the man approached you. Your smile faltered, your shoulders tensed, and your breaths began quicker.
“Back the fuck away from her,” Andrew demanded. His entire body language was different now and the threatening glare in his eyes was not to be ignored.
“I told you that I lost those fucking books months ago! What the fuck is your problem?” the man yelled, trying to get past Andrew.
“Sir, I can’t control overdue book fees. You’ll have to take it up with the Oceanside Library Board,” you explained.
“Fuck that! You’re gonna fix this right now or else-”
Before the man could get another word out, Andrew’s fist collided with his jaw, sending him tumbling to the ground. The man cried out and started erratically swinging his fists but Andrew deftly dodged each punch, staying on top of him while pummeling his fists into the man’s face.
“You stay the fuck away from her,” Andrew said, pulling the man up by his shirt and staring him down.
“O-okay, okay,” the man stuttered. Blood was dripping from his mouth and his face was littered with swelling bruises. As soon as Andrew let go of him, he scrambled across the street.
It was only until the man was finally out of Andrew’s line of sight that he realized what he had done. He had just shown you his true, violent nature. His eyes were wide and bloodshot, knuckles cut up and bruised. He could feel you standing completely still beside him, he would’ve thought you had left if it wasn’t for the soft breathing he heard coming from beside him. Fear paralyzed him and he could barely find the strength to look at you because he knew that your eyes would be wide, hands shaking, and heart pounding. You would be afraid of him, just like everyone else was.
To Andrew, it felt like an eternity had passed when he finally managed to summon up enough courage to look at you. His eyes were wide and vulnerable as he stared at you, racked with fear that you would scream or worse, run away from him.
But you didn’t do any of those things.
“Are you okay?” you asked, stepping towards him and taking his large hands in yours. The blood on his knuckles dripped onto your skin but you didn’t seem to care as you carefully inspected his wounds.
Your reaction was not at all what he expected. He was silent, dumbfounded and at a loss for words at the way you only showed concern for him and not the man he had just beaten to a pulp. “You’re not afraid of me?” he asked in a barely audible whisper, as if just saying the words out loud would make it a reality.
“Why would I be afraid of you, Andrew?”
Right then and there, Andrew knew he was in love with you.
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