Summary: Being Lena’s nanny comes with a few unspoken rules. One: don’t ask questions you don’t need the answer to. Two: half the Cody’s are party animals, and the other half have a tendency to go missing with vague explanations. Three (and this one is just for you): don’t think too much about Pope Cody, or his lingering stares and surprising softness towards you. Other than that, it’s a pretty great job.
But when you get a phone call in the middle of the night, and find Lena left alone at a party, you reach a bit of a…breaking point. Apparently, Pope does too.
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI: Swearing, Gun use, Mentions of drugs, Mentions of alchol, Mentions of child endangerment, Baz being neglectful, Allusions to sex, Let me know if I forgot anything!
Author's Note: As promised, in honor of @flowersforbucky posting her INCREDIBLE Pope Cody fic, here's my lil Pope drabble! This is basically a rewrite of the scene in 2x09, so be warned that there are potential spoilers!! Enjoy, and let me know what you think!
-
It starts with a phone call.
One o’clock in the morning. Jay and Nicky shouting into the phone about Lena.
“Put her on the phone.” You mumble, already trying to blink yourself out of the haze of sleep as you roll to sit up in bed, running a tired hand through your hair.
“Hi.” Lena’s voice is small. Sweet. A little shaken.
“Hey, cutie.” You keep your voice light, but the tremble in her voice, paired with the obvious sounds of a party in the background, makes your stomach tighten with something like rage. “What happened?”
“He tackled me.” She mumbles, and you can almost see her twisting the front of her shirt in her tiny fist with her free hand.
Your stomach tightens again. You sit up a little more. “What? Someone tackled you?” Calm. Keep yourself calm. No need to freak her out. Even so, you slide out of bed and start fumbling with your pants, keeping the phone to your ear as you snatch a sweatshirt off of the floor and start pulling it over your head. “Who tackled you?”
“To make sure I didn’t get hit by the car...” She sniffles, and you nearly freeze.
Oh, that’s rage. Pure, undiluted, protective rage. The party crackles on in the background, and you snatch your keys off the counter.
“Okay.” You pull the phone back, just far enough that she won’t hear your shaky exhale. Just for a second. “Okay, Lena. I’m coming over, ‘kay?” You’re already in your car. Already praying that the engine will catch as it turns over.
“Kay.”
“Where’s your dad?”
“I dunno.”
You grit your teeth. Turn the key again. Keep your voice light. “Okay. Where’s your uncle Pope?”
“I dunno.”
You might break your jaw if you clench it any harder. The engine catches. You breathe. “Okay. That’s okay. Can you go to the back room?”
She’s silent for a moment, and you whip around a curb so hard you think it might dent your front bumper.
“Uncle Jay wants his phone back.”
“Will you do me a favor? Will you tell your uncle Jay to fuck off, and have him put you to bed?”
She giggles, and you feel just a little bit better.
“You said a bad word.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” You’re eight minutes away.
You get there in four.
-
The party is fucking insane, and Lena should not be here, let alone have been wandering around unsupervised.
You nearly leave your car running in the driveway with how quickly you dart out of it. You pass beer bottles. Liquor bottles. Drunk strangers littering the yard and shouting loudly enough to wake people on the fucking moon.
And then you see a toy car, just big enough for a little girl to fit in, crushed and broken in a mess of pink plastic, and your vision swims with red.
As you push through the house, pass lines of cocaine and screaming drunks, hear someone shout expletives and swallow them with a swig from a bottle of tequila, and even glimpse a couple going at it in the corner, the rage builds inside of you like a cresting wave.
“Hey, the nanny’s here!” Craig shouts from the kitchen, standing before a counter littered with lines of white powder. “You finally come to party with us?”
You ignore him, and storm past.
When you reach the back room, you pause outside the door. Take a deep breath. Force a gentle expression. You have to stay calm. The last thing she needs is to see you freak out.
Lena is buried under blankets, and you think she might be shaking.
You’re by her side in a second, smoothing her hair back and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.
“Hey, cutie.” A bottle breaks outside. Someone shouts. Lena keeps shaking.
When she catches your hand, and her own hand is so small and still trembling in your own, you finally break.
You are about to be so, so fucking fired.
“Hey,” you whisper, “can you do ear muffs for me? It’s gonna get louder in a second, and then I’ll be right back.”
“How much louder?” She asks, small and nervous, and you squeeze her hand.
“I’m just gonna yell a little bit. Other people might yell too. You might hear a pop or two. No biggie.”
Lena nods. You pull your hand back, and cover your ears in demonstration.
“Ear muffs.” You remind her, and she mimics your movement with a nod.
-
It takes you forty five seconds to find the shotgun in the fireplace, and eight more seconds for people to start noticing that you’re holding it. You rip the cords out of the speaker hard enough that you might break it, and the music cuts off with a near-deafening whine of static.
“Out! Everybody get the fuck out!”
They listen. They scatter. Craig and Darren shout as everyone bolts from the house, and when someone in the pool calls you a ‘crazy bitch’, you respond by cocking the shotgun. All you can see is that broken, pink plastic car in the driveway. All those pieces it was crushed into. How easily that could have been Lena.
Craig is moving towards you, one large hand outstretched to snatch the weapon away from your unpracticed grip, when an arm suddenly wraps around your waist from behind and hoists you clean off of your feet.
“I’ve got her.” Pope’s voice is low and firm by your ear, so close that the feeling of his breath on your skin makes something warm curl in your stomach. Craig stops. The gun is pulled from your hands, and he doesn’t even bother to put you down as he places it on a nearby pool chair.
You squirm as he carries you over to the side of the house, uselessly kicking your feet, and you realize that you never even tied your shoes in your hurry to get here as he finally sets you down on the grass, pulling back just far enough to look you over in that intense way he has. Silent. Assessing. Taking in your sweatshirt, rumpled jeans, and untied shoes. You realize, suddenly, that you probably still have a hell of a case of bedhead. No wonder everyone scattered so quickly at the sight of you.
Well, that and the gun. Probably mostly the gun.
“What was that?” He doesn't sound angry. Just…concerned. Guilty, even.
“Where were you?” You hiss back, still so unbelievably furious. “Where the fuck were you, Andrew? Why is Lena even here?” It’s a rare occasion when you use his actual name, and you’re too angry to notice how his eyes soften a little. How his hand lifts by his side, like he’s about to reach for you, before dropping back down.
“I don’t know.” His rough voice is steady, like always, and you don’t fail to notice that he’s only answering your last question. His face is still blank. It’s his eyes that always hold all of his emotions. Those eyes are fixed right on you, with an intensity that locks your muscles more than your anger ever could. “I thought she was with Baz.”
“Well, where is Baz?”
“I don’t know.”
You run a hand through your hair, and blow out a puff of incredulous, furious laughter. “Unfuckingbelievable.”
“You were about to fire that gun. To protect her.” Still, no anger. Barely even a hint of surprise. His tone holds an entirely different emotion. One you can’t place. His eyes are still on you.
You barrel on. “Look, I miss Cath too. And I don’t give a shit what you all get up to when you have your cryptic family meetings or whatever, okay? That’s not my problem. But Lena is scared and confused and you can’t just fucking forget about her like-“
The feeling of Pope’s lips against yours is so sudden, such an absolute shock, that you stumble back a little. You don’t fall far before his arm wraps around your waist, catching you and pulling you upright against his broad chest so smoothly that you squeak in surprise. His free hand comes up to your cheek, rough and calloused and yet so oddly warm and soft that it makes you shiver.
Your eyes, having flown wide in surprise, flutter shut. The moment you begin to kiss him back, he makes a soft noise in the back of his throat and pulls you closer. Gentle - always gentle, always careful - but hungry. He parts your lips with his own, curls his fingers in your hair, and tugs you impossibly tighter against him until you can’t think of anything other than the solid warmth of his body, the softness of his lips, the bone-melting feeling of them moving expertly against yours.
“Hey, I’m- oh, what the fuck.”
You break the kiss at the sound of Baz’s voice, but Pope doesn’t let you go. In fact, his eyes remain locked on your mouth, thumb still tracing over your cheek like he hasn’t even noticed that his brother is there. Or, more likely, like he couldn’t give half of a shit.
“Shit, who had Pope fucking the hot nanny? One of you owes me twenty bucks.” And there’s Craig’s voice. Fuck. You are so, so fired.
“You owe me twenty, dumbass.” Darren grumbles behind him.
“No fuckin’ way. I called this shit forever ago.”
“Are you okay?” Pope asks, never taking his eyes off of your face, like you’re the only people in the yard.
You just nod, and pull back. He hesitates, but releases you.
“M’gonna…go check on Lena.” You mumble, and make your way back into the house with the ghost of Andrew Cody’s kiss still lingering on your lips.
-
You fall asleep with Lena curled into your side, the impossibly soft bed knocking you out within minutes.
When you wake, morning sunlight is streaming in through the windows. You turn your face into the pillow for a moment, exhaustion pushing the memories from the night before into the back of your mind, before clarity hits you like a freight train and your eyes fly open.
Lena. The party. The crushed plastic car in the driveway. Pope Cody kissing you like he was drowning and you were air.
You blink yourself awake, carefully sitting up without jostling the little girl in your arms.
And you nearly jump out of your fucking skin, because Pope is sitting at the end of the bed, watching you. It should be creepy. Watching you sleep is creepy, definitely, and yet you don’t feel the slightest bit afraid. You wonder if your survival instincts might be broken, after working for this family for so long.
“Hi.” You whisper.
“Hi.” He whispers back.
You look pointedly down to the sleeping child, then back up at him.
He nods, and holds out his hand. You take it, and wiggle carefully off of the bed as he leads you out of the bedroom and into an adjacent one. You’re pretty sure it’s Pope’s old room. You know he doesn’t live here, and yet you’re still surprised by how clean and sparse everything is when compared to the other bedrooms that his brothers tend to crash in sometimes. You suppose, with how obsessively he cleans, with how neat he likes to keep things, that it’s always looked this way.
“Are you okay?” He asks, with that lowered brow and intense gaze that makes your heart stop beating correctly.
“I…yeah.” The feeling of his lips against yours. The way he crushed you to his chest and kissed you so deeply you felt like you’d never be able to breathe again. His fingers in your hair. His arm around your waist. “Yeah, I’m fine. Am I fired?”
He looks genuinely confused by the question. “Why would you be fired?”
“I figure firing a gun in your house violates some kind of verbal contract.”
“You didn’t fire it.”
“I would have. I think I was about to.”
“You didn’t. You were protecting Lena. Why would you be-“
“Why did you kiss me?”
Again, surprise. His eyes dart around the room, shoulders hunching a little like they tend to do when he gets overwhelmed. When he can’t find the words he’s looking for.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while. Since…four minutes after I met you.”
Now, it’s your turn to pause. “Four minutes, huh?”
“Yeah.” At your curious look, he lifts a hand to rub the back of his neck, nervous. “You…smiled at me.”
“That’s all it took?”
“For me to want to kiss you, yeah.” You raise an eyebrow, and he frowns. “You’re not afraid of me, like everyone else is. You talk to me like a…person.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t quit.”
“What?”
“Don’t quit. Lena likes you. You take good care of her. I’ll leave you alone, if you want me to-“
This time, you kiss him. You barely even register that you’re moving until your hand comes up to the back of his head, pulling him down to you until his lips are covering your own. He grunts with surprise, but wastes no time gathering you into his arms, lifting you against him and pulling you closer like any distance between your bodies might kill him.
He doesn’t kiss you like he’s trying to devour you. Like the kissing is some kind of foreplay, some introduction into what might come after. Just like he did last night, he kisses you like he has all the time in the world. Like every movement of your lips against his is more than he could ever ask for. He takes his time trailing his fingers over your face, arm tightening around you, tongue tracing the seam of your lips like he’s tasting a fine wine.
You’re breathless when you finally pull back, and he’s no better. His forehead drops against yours, noses brushing and chests rising and falling together in a staccato rhythm.
“I think I’m gonna let Lena sleep in.” You murmur, and Pope nods as his face tilts a little closer to yours, lips brushing your own like his entire body is screaming to just close the barely-there distance between you. “She had a rough night. She can be a little late for school.”
He nods again, nose skating over your jaw, to the hollow of your throat. “Okay.”
“Maybe we can take her to breakfast.” His lips are on your neck. His hands are sliding beneath your shirt - not pushing, not demanding, just feeling you - “but she should sleep for an hour or two.”
You gasp when he tugs you to him, moving you backwards to lay you down on his bed. You smile against his lips as they find yours, and reach down to drag his shirt up and over his head.
“So an hour, you think?”
He nods, already leaning down to kiss you again. “Maybe two.”
the sound comes out small and wounded before you even manage to push yourself halfway off the bed.
a second later, his arms are around your legs.
he drops to his knees like it’s instinct, like gravity forces him there, forehead pressing into your lap. his fingers lace behind your calves, warm and firm, holding you in place.
you freeze.
at first, it had been adorable.
the way he’d cling to your sleeve.
the way he’d pout when you stood up.
the way he’d say he just liked being close to you.
now your keys are in your hand and you’re calculating how much force it would take to pry him off without making him cry.
“hey, just… let me up for a second,” you murmur, trying to shift your weight.
his arms tighten.
“why?” his voice is tight. “where are you going?”
you swallow, chest aching.
“i told you. we’re out of a few things,” you try.
he lifts his head slowly, gaze bleary and eyes glassy.
“we bought food two days ago,” he mumbles, half to himself. not accusing, not yet. just confused. “you remember that, right? you’re not lying, right?”
your grip tightens around the keys.
“i just need some air,” you try instead.
the change is instant.
his brows knit together, fingers digging in just a little more. not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you he’s… there.
“air?” he repeats. “without me?”
you hesitate for half a second too long.
his expression crumples.
“is it me?” he whispers. “did i do something wrong?”
guilt hits fast and heavy. you hate that it does.
he lowers his head again, cheek pressed to your thigh like you’re something fragile and he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go.
“i just get scared,” he admits, voice small. “you know how i am. when you leave, my head starts… thinking things.”
his thumb rubs absent circles against your calf.
“what if you realize you’re happier somewhere else?” he continues. “what if you meet someone who isn’t this clingy?”
your heart twists.
he isn’t yelling, he isn’t snapping, he just sounds afraid.
and you can’t punish someone for being afraid.
can you?
no.
you sigh, shoulders sinking.
“i’m not going anywhere,” you murmur quietly. “i’m here.”
he looks up at you through his pale lashes. hope flickers in his periwinkle gaze, desperate and bright.
“really?” he whispers.
you nod, another sigh falling from your lips. you concede to him.
“i’ll stay today,” you start, brushing his bangs away from his eyes. they’re soft against your fingers. he leans into your touch instantly. “okay? we can just… stay in.”
relief floods his face so fast it almost startles you.
“thank you,” he breathes, squeezing you tighter before easing his grip just enough to shift closer instead of restraining. he rests his head against your stomach now, arms wrapping around your waist to settle you back down.
“i love you,” he murmurs, his voice warm and sincere.
you run your fingers through his hair comfortingly.
“i love you too,” you return, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
his lips curve against your shirt where you can’t see.
he counts it as a victory.
small, but a victory, nonetheless.
he doesn’t need to forbid you from leaving.
he doesn’t need to lock doors or hide your keys.
not when guilt works so much better.
not when all he has to do is tremble a little, look wounded enough, and you fold for him every time.
he’ll keep being soft.
he’ll keep being scared.
he’ll keep making you choose him.
again.
and again.
and again.
because one day, you won’t even think about leaving anymore.
and when that day comes, he won’t have to hold onto you to keep you there.
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 — Dex has had a clear view of you through your window for a while now
‼️ 𝐂𝐖: Stalking, masterbating (f&m)
—NURSE!READER—AFAB/FEM!READER—
Dex sat on his bed, his binoculars up against his face as he looked through them, staring directly at the window of the apartment across from his. Your apartment.
The routine had began months ago, before you’d ever even noticed him. One day when he helped you pick up your ID you’d dropped, you smiled at him, you were sweet and it got him hooked immediately.
After that he started watching you. Just to make sure you were okay. To check in on you after your 12 hour shifts in the ER. He wanted to make sure you got some food, enough sleep, and best case scenario: a nice warm shower where he’d get the view of seeing you change.
It was all good intentions, especially when he was making sure you weren’t seeing anybody else after him.
What happened was, he’d “bumped” into you again a few weeks after your first interaction. A total coincidence, and you recognized him which made him so happy. He offered to buy you some coffee and thats how you two started talking.
You exchanged numbers with him and texted for the next few weeks, seeing each other for other small coffee dates in between. And then one day he got the confidence to actually ask you out to dinner, and to his relief, you happily accepted.
That night had gone so perfectly. Sure Dex hit a few bumps on the road— awkward pauses and not knowing what to say next—but you had found it cute which made everything okay. Then, after dinner he’d walked you back to your place like the gentleman he is.
And being a gentleman worked out for him amazingly because you kissed him. Several times, which led to the two of you stumbling into your bed, your clothes in a pile on your bedroom floor, and a happy Dex waking up the next morning beside you.
You still texted, just a little less now, which Dex noticed immediately. So now, for the past two weeks he’s been more attentive.
As soon as he’d get home he’d be on patrol, waiting to see you through your window (its just so convenient that you have sheer enough curtains for him to see through)
But now, right now you’d just come into your bedroom, practically ripping off your scrubs like they were disgusting as you entered your bathroom. When you came back out you were in your towel, sitting on your bed as you put lotion on before flopping back like you were contemplating whether putting clothes even seemed worth it.
Perfect. You weren’t seeing any other men. That solved one question he had but it didn’t explain why you’ve been dryer now. What could Dex possibly have done or said that made your replies so slow? (not that slow but to dex theyre sloth speed)
Meanwhile you felt horrible, opening your messages everyday to see Dex still being so kind to you with his good morning texts. It’d just been a long two weeks, too many people in weird emergencies and not enough time for you to check your phone.
You picked up your phone and opened your messages again, and of course there it was, the most recent text: from dex.
—Good morning
—have a good day
—talk later?
You typed a quick sorry, then:
—maybe later?
—I’m really tired
You tossed your phone beside you and finally sat up again, reaching into your drawer and grabbing the t-shirt you’d left in the morning so you wouldn’t have to go around your room scavenging for something comfortable to sleep in.
You barely put it on when your ohone dinged with a new notification
—yeah, absolutely, get some rest
He’s so sweet.
The last talking stage you’d had had ended because you “worked too much” and wouldn’t text him back in a timely manner. So to say the least: Dex was the most perfect man you’d ever met.
And he was amazing in bed, really, 10/10. He didn’t last two minutes and he actually gave you sex, not a simple fuck. Enough praise and kissing to make you see stars on its own. So amazing in fact that you’d kept thinking back to it, like right now, as you reached down under the big shirt you’d thrown on and slowly rubbed your clit, thinking about the groan Dex let out upon entry.
Dex could feel his pants getting tighter as he watched you drop your phone beside you and slowly finger yourself while moaning his name. He was experiencing some kind of high listening in through the mic he’d hid in your bedroom all those nights ago.
He used one hand to hold up his binoculars while the other one made quick work of undoing his pants and stroking himself.
notes: this was very random and self indulgent bc i was listening to She by Tyler, the creator and Frank Ocean but hopefully someone likes it!
When you’re scrolling to find a good fanfic of your favorite character and stumble upon a fanfic that annoys/disappoints you just from the tags attached
Summary: a vacation gone wrong quickly leaves you in the clutches of a harpy that’s convinced you’re in desperate need of its attention. And now, its introducing you to its mate formally!
Masterlist here.
Part 1 here.
---
The creature was excited. It was humming something, practically vibrating with unfiltered eagerness as it curled around you in the nest you were trapped in. You weren't sure why, but it seemed like it was.. waiting for something. You tried to make yourself as small as possible despite the harpy trying to constantly preen you. It had been running its claws through your hair for what felt like hours, as if trying to make you look presentable for something, and you were starting to get annoyed. Sure, it was being gentle, but after being constantly touched, the sensation was just irritating.
You've settled into a strange routine with the creature. After sleeping wrapped up in the bird's wings, you wake up slowly in the morning to the sound of the jungle. Every time you heard a distant bird-like screech, it made you wonder if there were more creatures like the one holding you captive.
While you spent the rest of the day bound to the nest, the creature left fairly early in the morning, pressing a kiss to your cheek with a croon before flying out of the cave to find food. You remembered the disgust you felt when it first came back with food and tried to feed it to you using its mouth. It almost seemed hurt when you refused to eat from it, but luckily it hadn't tried to do that since.
You haven't tried to run away yet. Couldn't with your leg still healing. The creature had realized as soon as it placed you in its cave that your leg had been broken, and luckily it seemed to have handled it better than you, wrapping it carefully in huge leaves, securing it with firm vines, and using sticks to create structure for the DIY cast.
But, in all honesty, even if your leg wasn't injured, you weren't sure if you would've been able to run away. The nest was located in a very secure place, and without wings you would have to climb down a mountain with no safety gear. And a harpy hunting you down. That seemed like a recipe for failure.
But that was a problem for future you, right now you had to worry about what had caused the creature to break the fragile routine between the two of you. It normally only returned around noon, but today it didn't even bother leaving the nest this morning, giving it ample time to coddle you in affection.
The answer to your question came in the sound of a sudden gust of air at the entrance. The creature perked up and, with a happy chirp, picked you up and settled you on its lap, mindful to not jostle your leg.
That's when you saw it. Standing in the entrance, an even larger version of the creature stood. Unlike the pitch black feathers of the harpy you were currently in the lap of, this one had feathers that were colourful, reminding you of a parrot.
You tensed up as it approached silently, intense gaze locked onto you. You expected the black harpy to protest, given how territorial it seemed, as the strange harpy approached the nest, but it simply let out inviting chirps.
With a whimper, you pressed your face as much as you could into the black harpy's feathered chest, trying to avoid the sharp claws of the colouful harpy. The colourful harpy didn't seem to like that much, letting out what seemed to be a chiding huff, but it didn't force you to turn your face back.
Now fully settled into the nest, it seemed to turn its attention to the black harpy, leaning forward and pressing its forehead against the other harpy's forehead. The sound of purring magnified and you were shifted to sit between the two as they embraced each other like… well, like lovers?
The colourful harpy looked down at you with a less feral look than previously, rumbling out the word, "Cir'es."
You blinked. Huh?? "Cires?" you repeated, tilting your head to the side. Was that a name of something?
Cir'es shook their head, patiently repeating the word, emphasizing the vocal click as part of the name until you pronounced it correctly.
You had no idea what just happened, but the black harpy looked absolutely thrilled, nuzzling into you before saying its own name, Ary'nos.
Once again, you repeated it until you pronounced it right, and when you did you were smoothly arranged back into a lying position. Only this time you were smothered between two feathered chests instead of one.
… Why did this remind you of an adoption ceremony?
Your stomach rumbled, drawing you out of your befuddlement. Berries were pressed to your mouth and you let them be hand-fed to you.
It seemed like your introduction was a success.
---
A/N: oh my gosh, I had to give them names ASAP, it was getting so annoying constantly referring to them by the colour of their feathers. Side-note: both of the harpies are male, you just don't know bird gender yet
