#and that’s because i ran out of ideas ^^;

[emriiis]

Sneak Peek: THE CALL

📣✨ 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 ✨📣

I honestly don’t even know where to begin—thank you, thank you, thank you. 🩷

We're almost at 300 followers now?! I’m genuinely overwhelmed. 🥹

I didn’t think anyone would notice this story. but you did and that means everything. Seeing the reblogs, the tags, the comments—it’s more than I ever expected. Thank you for reading!

So, as a little thank you gift… here’s a sneak peek of the next chapter. Just a taste. Just enough to make your heart race. 😈🔥

my inbox is open for requests, thoughts, ideas, or just screaming.

Saja Boys x Manager! Reader

Your apartment is too quiet.

Too still.

Ever since you walked out of that room—since you ran—you haven’t been able to stop feeling them.

Their eyes.

Their heat.

Their voices echoing in your skull like a siren's song.

God, what the hell is wrong with you?

You slap a hand over your face, heart hammering. But it doesn’t help. Because every time you close your eyes—

You see them.

Worse—you feel them.

A vibration against your leg makes you jolt. Your phone. You fumble for it, heart still pounding. 

Unknown number.

You answer anyway.

“…Hello?”

A pause.

“Good morning, Miss Y/N. I'm calling on behalf of the Saja Boys.”

​​You freeze.

The voice continues, polite. Controlled. But something about it makes your stomach twist.

“I’m reaching out to confirm that you’ve been accepted as their full-time manager. Congratulations!”

“I—I didn’t accept anything,” you blurt. “There’s been a mistake, I didn’t—”

“Yes, well, that’s the wonderful part. You don’t have to accept it. The contract’s already processed. We’ll send a car for you this evening—”

“I said no.” Your voice is sharper now, slicing through the sugar-sweet tone on the other end. “You can’t just assign me a job I didn’t—”.”

“Hey baby”

You freeze.

The voice has changed.

It’s not hers anymore.

“J-Jinu?” you breathe, scanning the room. There’s no one there—but it feels like there is. The air shifts around you, thick with pressure and heat, humming low and strange.

“How are you?” he asks, his voice like warm silk over ice. Calm. Gentle. But you hear the weight beneath it. The restraint.

“I—uh—I’m good.” You grip the edge of your cup too tightly. “How did you even—Never mind. Can I help you with something?”

His chuckle is soft, low, and it curls around your ribs like smoke. 

“I was hoping we could talk.”

“We’re talking right now.”

He hums again. Slower this time. Like he’s savoring the sound of your voice. 

“I meant in person.”

His voice warms around the words, coaxing instead of pressing. “No pressure. Just… a coffee. A quiet spot. Just you and me.”

Your throat tightens. You blink, and suddenly the room feels smaller. Warmer. Like the sound of his voice alone is wrapping around your ribs, holding you still.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you whisper.

He’s quiet for a moment.

“That’s okay.” 

Still soft. Still warm. Not pushy. But beneath the words… something deeper. A thread of something that reaches for you without forcing.

“You don’t have to decide now.”

You shouldn’t even be considering it. Not after what happened. Not after the way you’d felt in that room.

He doesn’t say anything else.

He just waits.

And somehow that’s worse. Because it leaves you sitting there, breath caught, heart pounding, mind spiraling with the memory of golden eyes, warm hands, and heat.

You bite your lip.

You should say no. You should...“When would we meet?”

comments and reblogs would be appreciated!

[bluerosefox]

Another DPxDC idea cause I am still brain rotting in this fandom.

AND ONCE AGAIN, its a deaged Dani/Dan idea. And dad!Danny.

.........

Bruce stared for a long moment. Trying to make sure he wasn't going insane or was just very sleep deprived from three days of near no sleep because of a difficult case.

......

Nope he was still seeing them.

Two children, a toddler and a baby in a baby walker were in the Batcave.... One eating Alfred made cookies while the other was finishing up its bottle. The two seemed at home in the cave and were being watched over by Alfred who looked over at him with a raised eyebrow of 'More children sir?'

Bruce could hear nearly all of his children (one was not with them just yet still upstairs, they needed to take a private phone call it seems) who had come down to the cave for their annual weekly reports and updates all asking him when did he get more kids to bring into the family.

The toddler of the two, a little girl with messy black pigtails and blue eyes noticed him and smiled widely at him, eyes sparkling with toddler mischief as she finished her cookie off and then loudly said "Grandpa B!"

Then with the speed only a sugar upped toddler could do she ran over and crashed into his legs, her little arms wrapping around him as best as she could. The baby had finished his milk, and noticed him as well, making grunting sounds and coo's as he did his best to move his baby walker towards him as well.

Bruce blinked, his mind blanking at what he had been called, as he stared down at the toddler that looked up at him with smile.

Bruce could hear his children all freaking out and he questioned which one of them made him a grandfather and never told him about it!

Bruce got his answer when the one still upstairs in the manor came running down yelling out what had to be the children's names

"Ellie! Dan!"

"Hi Daddy!" came the response from the toddler and a tiny grunt from the baby.

[spearofheaven]

GOOD MORNING .ᐟ — nanami kento

SUM. your morning with nanami gets interrupted :(

CONTAINS. 18+ content, MDNI. x fem reader. 1k words. fluff, suggestive themes (nothing too crazy), and gojo’s a warning of his own.

Mornings such as this one were ones you found yourself cherishing as the months went by—as you started to realize that one day, the man that you cared about may not come in through the door with a tired smile on his face. Mornings where it wasn't an onslaught of alarms waking either one of you, where you'd barely get in an exchange of something in semblance of a 'good morning.'

But rather, where the two of you were woken up by the early morning sun shining through sheer white curtains and the sound of the birds chirping outside. You comfortably laying in his arms with just one of his old button downs while he wore a simple pair of grey sweatpants on. Where your bodies were so intertwined in the white silk sheets that you weren't sure where his started and yours ended.

"Good morning, darling," Kento's pointer finger drew small circles on your back, his other arm wrapped around your waist. From just the sound of his voice, you knew that he planned on keeping you in bed as long as he possibly could. Because every moment short of an eternity with you wasn't nearly enough to satiate him.

"Good morning," you answered back, albeit a bit groggily. You rubbed your eyes in an attempt to get yourself to function a bit better—inevitably failing at the task when you snuggled up to Kento's side. Nanami's lips went down to your exposed shoulder where the shirt was slowly starting to slide off, planting a gentle kiss before moving closer and closer to your neck. The ghost of his stubble barely grazing against your skin when he did.

"So I was thinking.. I found this recipe for crème brûlée if you want to try it out later," Nanami uttered, sliding in between your legs after your neck was successfully peppered in his kisses. He wasted no time in moving onto your thighs, his lips attaching themselves to whatever piece of flesh that he had the nearest. "Mhm?" You were half paying attention to his words, more distracted in the way that his mouth deliberately moved closer to your underwear before moving away.

"And we can just spend our breakfast in bed," you ran your fingers across his 'disheveled' hair, a small hum escaping from your lips as you pretended to mull over the option. As if weren't a simple yes. "I suppose we could do that. If you're willing to prove why it's a good idea," you retorted, a small gasp escaping from your lips when you felt him gently bite down onto your inner thigh—hard enough to leave you with a hickey on there for days.

And Nanami hadn't even managed to hook his finger into the waistband of your panties when a knock at the door distracted the two of you. "You think if we ignore them, they'll go away?" He buried his head into your stomach, making no move to stand up just yet. Or at least, he wouldn't have if it weren't for the knocks at the door growing more and more intense. Clearly they had no intention of going away.

And Kento almost seemed reluctant to stand up from the comfort of the plush bed, letting out a small groan when he did. "I'll get it, just stay here," he pressed his lips against your forehead before grabbing a white t-shirt from his dresser and sliding it over his body. Effectively covering the little bites that covered his collarbones and the trace of your nails on his back. Only when he was somewhat decent is that he opened the door.

And while Nanami wasn't expecting anyone at the door—he would've welcomed anyone that wasn't Gojo at the moment.

Because while Nanami might've been able to hide the hickeys that littered his chest and collarbones, he was unable to hide your presence from the apartment. The beige coat that hung next to his own, the pair of heels that you'd worn when you'd come over last night next to his dress shoes, and the scent of your sweet perfume lingering on the air.

"What can I help you with?" Nanami already sounded agitated with the conversation, feeling a headache starting to form with every second he was forced to endure with the man.

"You finally got yourself laid? Lemme guess, you paid someone? Or you got yourself a dating app?" Gojo didn't even bother with the same formalities as Nanami had done—immediately jumping onto making assumptions about the feminine presence of the room.

"No. I did not get myself an escort, not that there's anything wrong with it," And Nanami was determined to leave it at just that. He figured it was already enough for Gojo to know where he lived.

"Oh come on, Nanamiiii. Give me something to work with," Gojo had a ridiculous pout on his face as he begged, surely giving him puppy eyes under the stupid ass blindfold.

"Was it one of those door to door salesmen?" And before Gojo even got the chance to make any more comments, you waltzed out of the bedroom in the same clothes that you'd gone to sleep in.

Nanami didn't even have to turn around to know that Gojo was giving him a shit-eating grin, opening the door and letting himself into the apartment like he owned the place. At least the white haired bastard had the decency to take off his shoes off. "Nanami's been keeping you hidden, I'm Gojo," he extended a hand out to you, his fingers freakishly long.

"He's mentioned you before," you responded, giving him your name before shaking his hand. Offering what you hoped was a polite smile—hoping you didn't look too exhausted in your state. Leaving out the part where half the time that Kento did mention him—it was usually to complain about what a pain in the ass he'd been at work.

"Only good things I'd hope," Gojo responded, sitting down on the expensive leather couch against the wall and placing his feet up on the coffee table.

"Absolutely n—"

And before Kento had the chance to finish his sentence, you'd taken it on yourself to salvage the situation, "Absolutely, only good things."

"Well, I like you. If we're lucky, our little breakfast might become our lunch!" Because spending nearly every day having to look at him just wasn't enough. Just exactly how Nanami had planned to spend his morning.

[barnesonly]

── ⊹ ࣪ ˖ Lust ˖ ࣪ ⊹ ──

professor!bucky barnes x reader

summary: You’re a literature student. He’s your English professor — brilliant, composed, and entirely off-limits. But the more you write, the more he notices you. And what begins as admiration quietly unravels into something far more dangerous.

word count: about 13k

WARNINGS: 18+ explicit content, MDNI. curse words, mutual desperation, age gap, dirty talk, praising kink, semi-public sex, fingering, PiV, unprotected sex.

Part 6 | Previous Part

The morning light slanted warm and golden through your dorm window, stretching across the floor like a sleepy cat. You were at your desk, hands brushing a light layer of powder across your face in the small mirror propped up against the textbooks you still hadn’t quite tackled over the weekend.

Your hair was mostly dry after your quick shower, and you ran your fingers absently through it while you stared at yourself, making sure you didn’t look as tired as you felt. Despite spending most of the weekend tangled up with James—doing everything but sleeping—there was that pleasant sort of ache lingering in your body and the tired-but-happy hum that had followed you right into Monday morning.

Behind you, Sarah was in full chatter mode, her voice like a familiar, upbeat soundtrack you’d learned to listen to and tune out at the same time.

“…so then Maddie texts me at like two a.m.,” she was saying, already rummaging through her bag, her phone lighting up her hands every few seconds with new notifications. “And I’m like, girl, you cannot come over now—I have class at eight. Get your shit together.”

“Mm-hmm,” you murmured distractedly as you capped your lip balm, then grabbed your hoodie off the back of your chair.

Sarah paused mid-rant to look up at you. “You okay? You’re quiet this morning. Did you even sleep?”

Your heart skipped—for a split second you wondered if you looked as lovesick as you felt. “I’m fine,” you assured her, slipping the hoodie on and checking your reflection one last time. “Just… had a long weekend.”

That was the understatement of the century.

Sarah grinned, clearly satisfied with your answer as she went back to typing on her phone. “Well, you better wake up. Professor Carter is a nightmare on Mondays. Remember that time she threatened to give a pop quiz just because nobody answered her?”

You laughed under your breath and started packing your bag—laptop, notebook, pen, water bottle—making sure you had everything you needed. The room felt comfortably familiar as you moved around it, Sarah humming to herself and the light outside shifting slowly into full morning.

“You know,” Sarah added offhandedly, “I feel like you’ve been… I dunno, a bit happier lately.”

You froze for a second before tugging the zipper on your backpack closed. “Really?”

“Mm-hmm,” she teased, her grin mischievous as she finally glanced up at you. “Your guy must have been nicer lately…”

Your face warmed and you rolled your eyes, swinging your bag onto your shoulder as you headed for the door. “You have no idea,” you muttered, mostly to yourself—a little smile pulling at your lips despite your best effort to hide it.

“See!” Sarah laughed, breezing past you into the hall. “That’s exactly what I mean. C’mon, we’re gonna be late.”

And as you followed her, your heart thudded just a little faster—already knowing this Monday was going to be very, very different.

You and Sarah fell into step together as you crossed the campus, the morning air crisp and bright. Students were already crisscrossing the pathways like hurried birds, backpacks bouncing and phones glued to hands.

“You sure you don’t want to come with me for coffee after class?” Sarah asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’d love to,” you said, adjusting your bag on your shoulder, “but I have that lecture right after. Next time?”

“Next time,” she agreed easily, already spotting one of her friends up ahead. “Alright, gotta run—see you later!”

“Bye!” you called after her as she broke away into the crowd.

You slowed your pace, enjoying the brief pocket of solitude before your next class—until a familiar voice called out your name.

“Hey!”

You glanced over your shoulder and spotted Theo jogging up to you, hands stuffed casually into the pockets of his jacket, a boyish grin on his face. “Hey,” you greeted him back.

“Going to Barnes’ lecture?” he asked, falling into stride with you.

You nodded, hoping the heat you felt in your cheeks wasn’t obvious. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Theo replied. “Figured I might as well go with someone who knows where they’re going.” He chuckled, and you couldn’t help but smile at his easygoing energy.

“You act like you haven’t been on this campus long enough,” you teased.

He just shrugged. “I may or may not have a bad sense of direction.”

You laughed softly as you followed the familiar path toward the arts and humanities building together, making light conversation. But under the surface, you couldn’t help feeling a flicker of anticipation—knowing exactly who was going to be waiting at the front of that lecture hall.

Theo pushed the door open for you when you arrived, and you murmured a quick “thanks” as you slipped inside.

Your heart gave a small, involuntary thump as you scanned the mostly empty rows, the professor’s desk already neatly arranged with papers.

And sure enough, there he was—James—leaning against the podium, looking up just as you walked in.

The tiny, fleeting smile that crossed his face when his gaze found yours was enough to make your stomach flip—right before it faded into something more neutral as his eyes briefly shifted toward Theo.

You felt James’ gaze follow you as you and Theo moved further into the room. Students were slowly trickling in, voices murmuring, chairs squeaking.

You chose your usual seat and Theo—still chatting as he pulled out his laptop—slid into the chair right beside you.

The second you glanced up toward the front again, you caught that subtle shift in James’ expression. His brow tightened, gaze fixed on Theo just long enough for you to feel a flicker of guilt, even though you hadn’t done a thing.

“Looks like Barnes is in a mood,” Theo whispered, leaning closer.

Your lips twitched. “You shouldn’t be complaining. Especially after last week.”

Theo grinned at that, but you felt the heat creep up your neck anyway.

„I’m not,” he huffed.

You busied yourself setting your notebook on the desk, all too aware of the professor’s stare. And sure enough, as the last few students took their seats and the room quieted, James pushed off the podium with that measured grace you’d come to recognize—hands tucked into his pockets as he began pacing slowly at the front.

��Alright,” he started, his voice warm and smooth and unmistakable. “Let’s pick up where we left off last time.”

As he spoke, that dark blue gaze kept drifting toward you. You could feel it like a physical touch, stirring a familiar ache low in your belly.

You shifted in your seat, telling yourself to focus—but that was easier said than done.

James kept lecturing—smooth voice spilling across the room as he flipped slides and scrawled points on the board—yet every so often, his gaze would drift back to you. It was subtle, practiced, like he knew exactly what he was doing without even thinking about it.

And god, every glance had your heart skipping in your chest.

By the time the lecture was winding down, you were already gathering your things slowly, hands unhurried as you tucked your pen into your pencil case and stacked your notebook neatly.

Beside you, Theo was shoving his laptop into his backpack.

“You ready?” he asked, casual.

You paused. “Um—you can go ahead,” you said quickly, trying to sound breezy. “I’ve gotta talk to Professor Barnes about something.”

“Oh,” Theo blinked, shrugging a strap onto his shoulder. “That’s cool. I’ll wait for you.”

Your stomach dropped.

Of course he’d say that.

You forced a smile. “No, seriously—you don’t have to wait for me.”

But Theo was already shrugging again, leaning back against the seat. “Nah, it’s fine. I don’t mind.”

Your gaze flicked toward the front of the room just as James dismissed the class.

Students shuffled past him toward the doors, voices loud and chairs scraping—but his eyes were already on you, sharp and knowing.

And just as Theo was texting something on his phone, James pushed off the desk and crossed the room toward you, hands tucked into his pockets, gaze burning a path straight to you.

“Hey,” he greeted smoothly as he stopped at your row, his voice lower now, carrying that unmistakable edge. “Can I talk to you for a second? About your grade—the B- one?”

Your breath caught.

Your eyes slid to Theo, then back to James.

He held your gaze, but a second later, his eyes shifted—pinning Theo with a look so blank and unimpressed that Theo straightened up a little.

“Oh,” Theo said, like he’d finally gotten the message. “I’ll—I’ll wait outside then.”

James inclined his head in a curt nod, and only after Theo grabbed his stuff and slipped past him into the hall did James finally look at you again—a muscle flexing in his jaw as he spoke.

“God,” you breathed out, a soft, relieved laugh slipping past your lips. “I thought he was never going to leave.”

James’s gaze softened, just a little, as one brow arched. “Persistent guy,” he murmured, voice quiet but laced with amusement.

You chuckled, tucking your notebook into your bag and swinging it onto your shoulder. “He means well, I guess,” you said, then glanced up at him properly, your lips twitching into a smile. “But I’d much rather be here with you.”

That pulled the corner of his mouth up into a subtle smile—that one only you ever seemed to see. “That’s good,” he replied, hands slipping into his pockets as he shifted his weight comfortably. “I was starting to wonder if you’d ever get rid of him.”

Your heart did a little flip at the faint possessiveness in his tone, and you tilted your head at him, feeling that same flutter you always felt around him.

“You didn’t need to worry,” you said softly.

James held your gaze for a lingering moment, his eyes warm despite the professor mask he always wore. “I’m not,” he answered, then let out a breath that was almost a quiet laugh. “Not really.”

You smiled, fingers brushing the strap of your bag as you stood there together, the quiet hum of the emptying hallway around you like its own little world.

James’ gaze stayed fixed on you, his voice dropping a shade lower as he spoke. “You know…” he began, eyes searching yours, “my last lecture today got canceled. You can come by my office if you want.”

Your breath caught, a familiar thrill sparking in your chest at the invitation. “Is that so?” you teased lightly, brow arching as you bit back a grin.

He shifted a little closer, hands still tucked casually in his pockets but his tone warm, intimate in a way that was meant only for you. “Mm,” he murmured. “Figured we could use the time. Unless,” his mouth tilted in that way that made you weak, “you’d rather spend it with Theo.”

You let out a quiet laugh at that, stepping closer yourself so there was hardly any space left between you. “That’s not even a question,” you replied, voice soft. “Your office sounds a lot better.”

James held your gaze for a long, charged moment, that little satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “Good,” he said, voice a low hum. “I’ll be waiting.”

And god, the way he looked at you—warm and possessive all at once—had your heart racing as you nodded and followed him down the hall.

Your cheeks heated just a little, and you had to look away before you gave too much away in the middle of an empty classroom. “See you later, Professor,” you murmured, savoring the title like an inside joke.

“See you,” he replied, gaze lingering on you as you finally turned toward the door.

The quiet of the hallway greeted you as you stepped outside, the usual buzz of students a few doors down. And of course, there was Theo—hands tucked into his pockets, one shoulder against the wall like he had nowhere better to be. The moment he saw you, his face brightened.

“There you are,” he said casually, straightening up and brushing a stray lock of hair from his eyes. “So, are you gonna fix that grade or what?”

Your lips twitched into a smirk before you could stop yourself, all too aware of what you’d really been up to over the weekend. “I already did,” you replied breezily.

Theo’s brow arched, his easygoing grin making a brief appearance. “Oh, is that so?”

“Mm-hm,” you said, shifting your books in your arms and tugging your bag higher on your shoulder as you started to walk toward the stairs. The sound of your heels clicked softly against the tiled floor. “Wrote up some extra credit. Took care of it over the weekend.”

He fell into step next to you, hands still in his pockets. “Huh,” he muttered, sounding half-impressed and half-curious. “That was fast.”

“Yeah,” you agreed simply, your smile impossible to hide as you kept your gaze trained ahead, savoring the unspoken secret that still made your pulse race.

“Good,” he replied at last, a touch of amusement in his voice as you rounded the corner toward your next lecture together—him completely oblivious to what “extra credit” had really involved.

———

A few lectures later you were free.

You took your time packing up—sliding your notebooks into your bag one by one, lingering over each tiny task as your heart thudded with anticipation. It wasn’t like you had anywhere else to be. Except, of course, back with him.

The familiar thrill rushed through you as you wove your way across campus. The afternoon light glinted across the windows as you cut through the halls, feet carrying you almost automatically toward his classroom. Every step felt like a secret, every corner you turned making your pulse jump a little faster.

When you reached his door, you paused for a breath, fingers toying with the strap of your bag like you weren’t dying to just go in already.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you eased the door open and slipped into the empty classroom. The door clicked softly behind you, sealing the world outside, and there he was.

He glanced up the second you stepped inside, his gaze locking onto you like you were the only thing that mattered. The tension in his shoulders eased instantly—a look you’d come to recognize—and a slow, knowing smile spread across his lips.

“There you are,” he greeted, voice rich and low as he set his pen down and leaned back in his chair.

“Here I am,” you echoed, your lips curving as you locked the door.

For a heartbeat, you just stood there, drinking him in—sleeves pushed up to his elbows, collar undone just enough to hint at warm skin, dark eyes fixed on you like you were all he could see.

And then you moved.

You crossed the room slowly, savoring the way his gaze followed you, and with a deliberate softness you hopped up onto the edge of his desk. Paper rustled under you, but neither of you cared.

James was already pushing back his chair, unfolding to his full height as he closed the small distance between you.

“God, I missed you,” he murmured as he came to stand between your knees.

His hands were gentle at first—one cupping your cheek, thumb brushing along your cheekbone like you were something fragile—and you couldn’t help leaning into his touch.

“Missed you too,” you whispered, eyes fluttering as you felt his breath warm against your lips.

He bent his head and kissed you—slow and unhurried, like he was savoring every second, mouth melting into yours with a possessive sweetness that made your heart stutter.

Your hands fisted in his shirt, tugging him closer until there was no space left, only the quiet sound of your breaths catching and the delicious pressure of his mouth against yours.

“I thought about you all day,” he murmured between kisses, his hands sliding up into your hair, tilting your face just the way he liked so he could deepen the kiss.

“I couldn’t concentrate,” you admitted breathlessly against him, legs locking loosely around his waist, feeling him hum low in his chest.

“That’s my girl,” he growled softly, lips dragging down your jaw as one broad palm flattened against the small of your back, pulling you flush against him.

“You drive me crazy,” he murmured into the curve of your neck, and you let out a shivery little sigh, arching into him as his mouth pressed a trail of warm, deliberate kisses along your throat.

Your hands slid up to cradle his face, tugging him back up so you could kiss him again—deeper this time, a kiss that told him you’d thought of nothing but this since you left his class earlier.

He broke the kiss slowly, lips brushing yours one last time before leaning back just enough to look into your eyes—gaze dark and full of heat.

“God, I missed having you like this,” he murmured, hands still possessive on your hips. Then his gaze dropped, roaming down your body with a hunger that made your breath catch.

“Let me see you,” he coaxed, voice low and rough as his hands slipped lower, fingers brushing the hem of your skirt.

Your lips parted in a shaky breath as he began to ease the fabric upward, slow and deliberate. “That’s it,” he murmured, thumbs stroking circles into your thighs as more of your skin was revealed inch by inch.

You gripped the edge of the desk, pulse fluttering as he finally bunched your skirt up around your waist, dark eyes fixed between your legs.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he told you, voice edged with something deliciously raw as one hand drifted up your inner thigh. “Look at you… already trembling.”

A quiet whimper slipped past your lips as his fingertips skimmed higher, teasing up the softness of your inner thigh before finally hooking into the waistband of your panties.

“Lift for me, sweetheart,” he urged, eyes locking onto yours as you obeyed, hips tilting up just enough for him to draw your panties down your legs—agonizingly slow, the fabric sliding across your skin like a caress.

“Good girl,” he praised huskily, hands steady and sure as he tugged them all the way off, then tucked them into his pocket like they belonged there.

Your cheeks were burning, breath unsteady as he stepped back just a fraction, gaze drinking you in—skirt pushed up around your waist, legs spread for him, every bit of you aching.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured, hands trailing up your bare legs again—feather-light at first before his palms settled warmly on your knees and began to ease them further apart.

“Already so wet for me too,” he added, voice turning darker as his thumb brushed against you, making your whole body jump.

Your hands were trembling against the desk now, breath catching as you nodded, eyes fixed on his face—and the wicked glint in his eye as he bent a little closer.

“That’s it,” he murmured, thumb stroking slow and deliberate. “Just keep those pretty legs open for me, baby. Let me take my time.”

And god, you were going to let him do whatever he wanted.

He held your gaze for a charged moment longer, thumb tracing a slow, tantalizing path up the slick heat between your thighs before he finally pressed just a bit more firmly—enough to make your hips jerk, breath spilling from you in a trembling gasp.

“That’s right,” he growled under his breath, utterly captivated by every tiny reaction. “You’re so sensitive already… can’t hide a thing from me, can you?”

Your fingers dug into the edge of the desk, knuckles going white as he began to circle your clit with that maddeningly deliberate touch. Warmth rushed through you in waves as your legs threatened to close—and he just spread you wider with his hands, gaze locked on where you were most exposed.

“Uh-uh,” he chided, low and dark, one corner of his mouth twitching into a wicked smirk. “Keep them open, sweetheart. Want to see you.”

Your body was trembling now, heat racing up your spine as he kept going—slow, practiced strokes that built the pressure in your belly until it was dizzying.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss along the curve of your jaw as his fingers moved faster, slick and sure. “And I love knowing you’re mine, every inch of you… mine.”

You tilted your chin toward him, lips parting for his kiss even as you squirmed against his hand. The way he kissed you—deep and possessive, all heat and hunger—only added fuel to the fire licking through you.

“You feel that, baby?” he murmured into your mouth as one finger pressed inside you, followed by a second, setting a steady rhythm that had your back arching into him. “That’s it—take me so well, just like you always do.”

A shivering moan broke free from your lips and into his, your hands clutching at his shoulders now for something solid to hold onto as his fingers curved just right, stroking that perfect, aching spot inside you.

“You’re gonna come for me right here,” he ordered—voice so low and sure it sent a thrill straight to your core. “And when you do, I want you looking at me. Got it?”

Your nod was desperate and breathless. “’Mm-hmm, James—please,” you gasped, every nerve burning, every movement of his hand winding you up tighter and tighter.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised with a dark, satisfied murmur, mouth brushing your ear as his fingers drove you higher. “Come on, baby… let go for me. Let me feel you.”

And with a trembling, helpless cry of his name, you shattered around him—his fingers still moving through your release as you clenched around him again and again, his other arm wrapped around your waist to hold you close while you fell apart.

Your trembling hadn’t even fully stopped before you felt him shifting closer, his hands still warm and sure against your skin.

“You did so good,” he murmured into your hair as you clung to him, your breath shaky and your body still humming from the aftershocks.

And then you heard the metallic click of his belt unbuckling—slow and deliberate—as he stepped back just enough to free himself.

Your eyes locked onto his hands for a breathless second as they moved to his zipper, anticipation making your stomach twist with a deeper, needier ache.

“You want it, baby?” he asked, voice dark as his hands slipped around your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the desk, his thumb tracing the inside of your knee.

You could only nod, lips parting on a breath that felt like a prayer.

With a quiet growl, he guided himself to you—hot and hard and so perfectly familiar—and then he was pushing into you inch by slow inch.

Your lips fell open on a soft gasp as you took him, hands flying up to grip his shoulders.

“There you go,” he murmured against your mouth, his hands tightening on your hips to keep you anchored.

He paused when he was fully seated inside you—so deep you could feel every ridge and heat of him—and pressed a kiss to your lips like he couldn’t help himself.

“You feel so fucking good,” he rasped as he began to move, long, deep strokes that had your thighs trembling and your back arching into him.

Every slow thrust pulled a new sound from you, his name whispered into the quiet, dim light of his office.

“You’re mine,” he groaned against your neck, one hand threading into your hair as he rocked into you—unhurried, deliberate, making sure you felt every perfect inch of him.

And you were, god, you were—his low voice in your ear, his hands on you like you belonged nowhere else, the deep, devastating slide of him through you over and over until you were dizzy with it.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, and all you could do was hold on as he fucked you slow and deep—like he had all the time in the world to unravel you completely.

His hands were gripping your waist so tight you were sure you’d wear his fingerprints for days. The two of you moved together like it was the most natural thing in the world—your bodies perfectly in sync, the slick slide of him making you bite back whimpers every time his hips ground into you just right.

You were clinging to him, eyes fluttering, lips parted against the sharp edge of his collar as you fought to keep yourself quiet in the empty classroom. The blinds were pulled, the door locked—the entire campus might as well have disappeared.

“You’re perfect,” he growled under his breath, voice like gravel as he kissed a trail up your throat.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him in closer, moaning into his mouth as he fucked you deeper and slower, every deliberate thrust lighting up your whole body.

“God, James—” you breathed, rocking into him, already trembling on the edge of losing it entirely.

And that was when the knock came.

Both of you froze like you’d been plunged into ice water—your heart jumping into your throat.

Your eyes went wide, breath held as James’s hands instinctively covered your mouth, his gaze pinned to yours.

A sharp voice from the other side of the door followed.

“Professor James? Are you there?”

You couldn’t help the panicked shiver that went through you—feeling him still hard and pulsing inside you, both of you trapped in this perfect, terrible tension.

James stayed perfectly still, his palm firm over your lips as if expecting you to cry out just from the adrenaline. His dark eyes were locked on yours, his brow drawn together in a fierce frown.

Your hands tightened on his shoulders, nails pressing into him, every nerve on fire as you tried not to breathe too loudly.

Another knock—louder this time—and you heard a faint rustle outside like someone was leaning closer to the door.

“Professor?” the voice called again. “Sorry to bother you, just need a quick word.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you felt dizzy, eyes pleading up at him in a mixture of lust and fear, a trembling ache still humming between your legs even as you were scared out of your mind.

James’s thumb brushed your cheekbone gently, his lips ghosting your ear as he whispered so low you could feel the vibration of it through your entire body:

“Not a fucking word.”

And you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to go utterly still—trapped in that dark, dizzying hush together as someone stood just on the other side of the door, so close they could have heard your racing hearts if they listened hard enough.

Your breath was caught halfway up your throat as you stared at him, pulse thundering in your ears, still trembling from the aftermath of what you’d just been doing.

James pulled out of you carefully—his hands still gentle even though there was a sharp edge of panic tightening his movements—and you bit back a sound at the loss, hastily tugging your skirt down over your aching thighs.

The knock came again—sharper this time—and James cursed under his breath before leaning close.

“Window,” he whispered urgently, eyes dark and serious.

Your stomach flipped. “What?!”

“Go out through the window,” he hissed, already reaching to straighten his belt and smooth his hair with a hand.

You stared at him like he’d lost his damn mind. “James—are you serious? What if someone sees me?!”

He grabbed your arm and pulled you toward the window as you tried to fix your shirt. “I don’t know—be careful,” he urged, his voice a fierce whisper as another knock sounded.

“Oh my god,” you whispered back, feeling the adrenaline surge like fire through your veins. “You want me to jump out like a fugitive?!” you squeaked, heart racing, the whole thing so absurd you could hardly believe it.

James shot you a wild look over his shoulder as he moved to intercept whoever was knocking. “That’s exactly what I want,” he muttered. “And don’t break your neck, please.”

You swallowed hard as you crossed the short distance to the window. Thank god this was the ground floor—you only had to swing a leg over the sill and drop a few feet into the grass.

Your hands trembled as you undid the latch, the cool breeze instantly spilling into the room.

“God,” you whispered to yourself, heart thudding as you hitched your skirt up and swung one leg over.

“Careful,” James urged in a rushed whisper.

You slipped outside, crouching as you hit the grass and glanced up at him one last time.

“Don’t get caught,” he mouthed.

Your lips twitched despite the panic as you pulled your jacket tighter around you and hurried along the wall—trying to look as casual as possible—heart pounding, breath shallow, feeling like you’d just pulled off a prison break as you disappeared around the corner.

And up in the classroom, James was finally unlocking the door, already fixing his face into an innocent, professional expression as if nothing at all had just happened.

Your heart was still thudding painfully against your ribs as you hurried across the quad, weaving between scattered groups of students without really seeing any of them. The chilled air didn’t help—your hands were trembling as you dug your keycard out of your pocket and pushed into your dorm building, your face feeling too hot for comfort.

God, that was so fucking close.

Your steps were quicker than usual as you took the stairs two at a time, every sound around you feeling too loud. Every time someone glanced your way in the hallway, your stomach flipped—as if they somehow knew what you’d just been doing, like they’d seen you slip out of that window.

Or worse—like whoever had knocked had heard something before you two had stopped.

Your brain was racing as you reached your door, key sliding into the lock with shaky fingers. What if someone really did see you sneaking out? What if they went back and told someone? What if they connected the dots?

The door clicked open and you stepped into your room, leaning against the wood as you shut it behind you and pressed your palm flat over your pounding heart.

Your thoughts kept circling: who was that outside? Did they wait long enough to hear anything? Could they recognize you if they looked back outside and caught you rounding the corner?

God, you hoped not.

“Are you okay? You look like shit.”

You spun around to see Sarah sitting cross‑legged on her bed with her laptop perched on her knees, eyes narrowed at you like you’d just stumbled in from a war zone.

“Oh—hey,” you managed, breathless as you set your bag down a bit too carefully.

Sarah raised a brow. “Hey? That’s it? You sure you’re okay? You look like you just ran a marathon.”

Your hands went up in a vague shrug as you kicked off your shoes. “Long day,” you offered, hoping your voice didn’t give you away.

“Long day,” she echoed slowly, leaning forward. “And by long day you mean what exactly?”

You avoided her gaze, rubbing at the back of your neck as you tried to keep your face neutral. “Nothing crazy,” you mumbled. “Just… had to deal with some stuff on campus. Took forever.”

“Uh-huh.” Sarah’s suspicion didn’t waver, lips twitching like she wasn’t buying it one bit.

You grabbed your phone and tossed yourself onto your bed, face buried in a pillow to hide the heat creeping up your neck. The ghost of his hands on you still tingled across your skin, and you couldn’t stop replaying the frantic moment over and over again—the knock at the door, the sound of someone calling his name, the two of you freezing like deer in headlights.

Your phone buzzed against the sheets, yanking you back to the present. Heart skipping, you rolled over and grabbed it.

James | 3:21PM

God, that was close.

Your heart gave a painful thud.

You | 3:21PM

Yeah. No shit.

A moment passed before another message came through.

James | 3:21PM

You okay?

You stared at the question for a long second, lips pressed together. Were you okay? Almost getting caught like that had scared the hell out of you—your hands were still a little shaky.

You | 3:22PM

More or less. That scared the crap out of me. Pretty sure I aged ten years.

His reply was almost instant.

James | 3:22PM

Me too.

That one admission hit you hard—especially coming from him. Calm, composed, always so sure of himself. Except this time, he was just as shaken as you.

You | 3:22PM

That was too close, James. Way too close.

There was a long pause this time. You could picture him, brow furrowed, running a hand through his hair the way he always did when he was thinking too much.

Finally:

James | 3:24PM

I know.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as you searched for the right words. The room felt too quiet, your heart thudding loud in your chest.

You | 3:24PM

What if someone heard? What if they saw me leave?

More typing bubbles appeared and disappeared before his next text.

James | 3:25PM

They didn’t. You’re safe. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

Your stomach twisted—you knew he meant it. But this wasn’t some easy game. One slip, one wrong move, and everything could blow up in both your faces.

You | 3:25PM

That was way too close, though. Too risky.

That message hung in the silence for what felt like forever before his final reply appeared.

James | 3:26PM

I know.

And you could feel the weight behind those two words as if he were right there beside you—knowing that what you had was dangerous and fragile and so damn close to breaking if you weren’t careful.

You let your phone drop onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling, breath shaky, heart still pounding as the reality of what almost happened began to fully sink in.

———

By the next morning, the knot in your stomach still hadn’t disappeared. The entire walk across campus felt surreal—like you were on autopilot, hands tucked into your pockets, your thoughts still spinning wildly around yesterday.

And him.

Theo kept up a steady pace beside you, backpack slung over one shoulder, humming something under his breath. But you barely heard him. Every little detail from yesterday—the rush of hands and lips, the sudden knock at the door—was on repeat in your mind like a song you couldn’t shut off.

“You okay?” Theo’s voice cut in gently, making you blink.

You glanced at him. “Yeah, yeah,” you answered a bit too quickly, forcing a smile that didn’t quite feel real.

He didn’t look convinced but let it slide as you crossed into the lecture hall together. Students were already filing into their seats, the usual hum of conversation filling the room.

And then you felt it—that magnetic pull.

Your eyes drifted up to the front of the classroom where James was leaning against his desk, hands gripping the edges casually, gaze scanning the room as if nothing had happened yesterday. Nothing at all.

But when his eyes found you, the smallest flicker crossed his face—so fast it was barely there.

Your heart thudded in your chest.

Theo followed your gaze without thinking and then glanced back at you, his brow furrowing ever so slightly.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, lower this time.

You swallowed and nodded, breaking eye contact with the professor as you pulled out your chair. “I’m fine. Really.”

Theo watched you for a beat longer before shrugging and slipping into the seat next to yours.

He set his backpack down with a quiet thump and began pulling out his notebook, but his gaze kept straying toward the front of the room.

Every so often, almost like clockwork, you glanced up at James—a quick flicker of your eyes that lasted a heartbeat too long before you made yourself look back at your notes again.

Theo didn’t comment.

He sat there, tapping his pen lightly against the edge of his desk, and you were too busy flipping blankly through your notebook to see the way his brow had creased, or the way his mouth had pressed into a thin, thoughtful line.

Out of the corner of his eye, he kept watching you—the subtle way your shoulders tensed when James spoke, the way you held your breath when those sharp blue eyes scanned the classroom, and how you immediately seemed to exhale when they moved on.

He noticed the tiny things you probably thought you were disguising.

Your hands fidgeting in your lap when the professor walked past your row. The way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear even though it wasn’t in your face. The faint color high on your cheeks that didn’t match the chilly morning outside.

And most of all, that careful, too-casual way you weren’t looking at him.

Theo didn’t say a word—not then, not as the professor started his lecture in that same measured voice that filled the hall, nor as you stared straight ahead like you were giving the class your full attention.

But Theo’s gaze kept returning to you.

The puzzle pieces were starting to fit together in his head, slowly and quietly.

And you had no idea at all.

You were too caught up in the lingering buzz under your skin, in the way yesterday kept playing over and over in your mind—hands and lips and whispered warnings you probably still felt against your neck—to notice the way Theo was studying you like someone trying to read between the lines.

He never broke the silence. Never asked the obvious questions that had started to form at the back of his mind.

He just sat there, listening to the scrape of his pen on his notebook and the professor’s deep voice as it filled the room—and kept his thoughts to himself.

The professor’s voice cut through the din of the crowded lecture hall one last time—“That’ll be all for today”—and just like that, the spell was broken. The usual shuffle of students packing up, murmuring to each other, and dragging their feet toward the door filled the air.

You took your time, hands moving slowly as you tucked your pen into your notebook, feeling strangely detached. The faint scratch of your zipper was louder than you expected as you closed up your bag, pulse a little too fast for such an ordinary moment.

When you finally glanced up, Theo was already watching you—leaning casually against his chair, one brow arched ever so slightly.

“What?” you asked, trying to sound more breezy than you felt.

His mouth curved into a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Nothing,” he replied, voice light. Too light.

That one word hung there between you, deceptively simple, and something about his steady gaze made you suddenly feel like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t have.

Your eyes flicked toward the front of the room before you could stop yourself.

James was leaning against his desk in that effortless way of his, hands braced against the edge as a couple of students clustered around him with questions. Even from this distance you could see the sharp cut of his jaw and the faint smile that tugged at his lips as he spoke.

Your chest tightened just looking at him.

And when you dragged your gaze back to Theo, his brow had twitched—just a tiny shift. He held your gaze for a beat too long then glanced toward James, then back at you. “You wanna go up there and ask him something again?”

Your stomach flipped.

There was nothing accusing in his voice. In fact, if someone overheard, they’d probably just assume he was offering to wait while you clarified an assignment. But under that casual tone, there was an unspoken weight, an observation threaded between every word.

Your lips parted, then pressed together, a faint flush prickling up your neck.

“No,” you answered, forcing a lightness you didn’t feel as you hitched your bag higher onto your shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“Alright,” Theo said simply.

He fell into step beside you as you moved toward the exit, hands in his pockets, gaze straight ahead—unbothered, at least on the surface.

And as the door swung shut behind you, you felt the weight of his quiet scrutiny lingering, sharp and discerning. Whether or not he had you figured out completely, one thing was clear: Theo wasn’t as oblivious as he let on.

The hall was busier now, students spilling out of classrooms, voices bouncing off the high ceilings as everyone shuffled toward their next lectures. Theo matched your pace easily, hands stuffed into his pockets, his stride loose and comfortable like nothing was on his mind.

“You really pay attention in his lectures,” Theo commented casually, his tone light—almost offhand—as if he were making small talk.

Your heart skipped, hands tightening around your bag strap. “I do?” you shot back, forcing a little laugh as you kept your eyes fixed straight ahead.

“Mm-hm,” Theo mused, that easy little hum of his making it impossible to tell what he was thinking. “Every time Barnes looks your way, you seem to straighten up like you’re about to be quizzed.”

Your stomach fluttered nervously. Every time? You glanced at him from the corner of your eye but Theo was just strolling along like this was nothing, like he hadn’t noticed more than he was letting on.

“I mean, he’s a good lecturer,” you replied carefully, trying to sound breezy. “Makes it easier to focus.”

“Easier to focus,” Theo echoed, his lips quirking. “That’s one way to put it.”

You felt heat crawl up the back of your neck and shifted your bag higher onto your shoulder. God, had you been that obvious?

“You seem to like him,” Theo continued, his gaze fixed ahead as the two of you maneuvered around a group of students huddled outside a classroom.

“Don’t most people like him?” you asked, maybe a bit too quickly.

Theo only gave a small shrug. “Some people do. Some people don’t. You, though…” His voice trailed off just long enough to make you look at him.

He was watching you then, one brow raised ever so slightly, eyes thoughtful—not accusing, not teasing. Just… curious.

“You look at him different,” he said finally, voice pitched so low it was almost lost beneath the hum of nearby conversations.

Your heart thudded hard at that, hands curling into fists around the strap of your bag.

“I do?” you replied softly, hating that your voice sounded smaller than you intended.

Theo’s gaze lingered on your face for a breath before the corner of his mouth lifted in a gentle smile. “Hey, I’m just saying,” he added lightly, as if he hadn’t just peeled back a layer you’d been carefully guarding. “He’s kind of… intense. A little hard to read. Makes sense someone might be drawn to him.”

Your eyes flicked up to his, searching for any sign that he knew more than he was letting on—but Theo only smiled a bit wider before pushing open the door to your next classroom.

The familiar hum of conversation and the scrape of chair legs against the floor greeted you as you followed him inside. It felt strangely loud against the nervous energy still buzzing in your chest.

“You grabbing this one?” Theo asked, jerking his chin toward the back row—your usual spot.

“Yeah,” you replied, forcing a smile as you slipped into the seat.

He slid into the chair next to you, casually dropping his backpack at his feet and pulling his laptop free.

Your hands were already reaching into your own bag for your notebook when your phone vibrated in your pocket—just once, sharp and insistent enough to make your heart jump.

You glanced at the screen under the desk.

James | 9:31AM

Hey, I thought you were gonna stay for a moment after the lecture. Everything okay?

Your stomach flipped.

Of course he’d noticed you hadn’t come up to him—usually you’d catch him before leaving, even if just for a quick word.

Your thumb hovered over the keyboard as you glanced sideways at Theo. He was already logged into his laptop, eyes fixed on his screen, but there was that subtle, knowing curve at the corner of his mouth that made you feel like he was more present than he seemed.

You lowered the phone into your lap and quickly typed back.

You | 9:32AM

Sorry, wanted to but Theo was waiting for me. Didn’t want him to catch on.

You paused before hitting send, heart thudding as you reread it.

The message disappeared with a tiny whoosh.

You stared at your phone for a long second, nerves tangled up as you waited for the typing bubble to appear.

Beside you, Theo shifted in his seat, rubbing a hand through his hair, his gaze fixed on his laptop like he had no interest at all in what you were doing—but every part of you felt hyper-aware of him.

And just as the professor walked in and started the lecture, your phone vibrated again in your palm.

James | 9:33AM

Figured. Don’t worry. We’ll catch up later. Come to my office when you’re done with your lectures, okay? Wanna talk about yesterday.

You bit your lip, a small smile tugging at your mouth even as guilt pricked at you.

That familiar ache settled into your chest as you tucked your phone away and glanced up at the front of the room, forcing yourself to focus on the professor’s voice—all the while feeling the weight of Theo’s unspoken questions and the lingering, secret heat of James’ message under your skin.

———

By the time the last lecture of the day wrapped up, your head was already somewhere else. The professor’s parting words barely registered as you slid your notebook into your bag, hands moving quickly—more quickly than they needed to.

Your phone felt warm in your pocket, that last message from James still lingering in the back of your thoughts like an invitation you couldn’t wait to answer.

“Hey,” Theo’s voice pulled you back as you stood, shrugging your bag onto your shoulder.

You glanced up to see him already waiting for you at the end of the row, hands tucked into his pockets in that easy, casual way he always had.

“Yeah?” you replied, forcing a light smile as you fell into step with him toward the door.

“You free now, right?” he asked, pushing the door open for you and matching your pace as you moved into the hallway. “I was thinking we could grab some lunch—or maybe coffee? My treat,” he added with a shrug.

You paused just long enough to register the offer. Normally, you’d say yes without a second thought—Theo was easy company, someone who never pressed too hard—but right now your chest felt tight with an entirely different kind of anticipation.

“Oh,” you began, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you kept your gaze trained ahead of you, avoiding his eyes. “That’s really nice of you, but, uh… I actually have to take care of something after this.”

“Something?” he echoed, tone light but laced with curiosity as you descended the staircase together.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, hoping it sounded casual. “Nothing serious, just—stuff for a friend.”

And god, even saying it out loud sent a thrill up your spine—one you hoped he couldn’t hear in your voice.

Theo was quiet for a moment as you wove past a couple of students hurrying the other way. Then he nodded, lips twitching into a small, knowing smile as he glanced at you sidelong.

“Ah. Friend… Got it,” he drawled, like he was letting you off the hook. “Guess I’ll catch you next time then.”

“Next time,” you agreed, breath slipping out in a subtle sigh of relief.

But as you kept walking, you felt the weight of his gaze lingering just a moment too long before he finally peeled off toward the courtyard, hands in his pockets, that easy posture never quite fading.

Your heart thudded faster as you kept going—past the familiar halls, past the windows that let in the bright spill of afternoon light—and all you could think about was him.

James.

By the time you reached his classroom, you paused for a breath and glanced around, making sure no one was lingering nearby. Satisfied, you knocked softly and pushed the door open, stepping inside and easing it shut behind you before turning the lock with a quiet click.

He was already watching you, gaze steady and unreadable as you crossed the room.

“You came,” he murmured, and you felt a tiny, breathless smile tug at your lips.

“Of course,” you replied, hands twisting around the strap of your bag before you set it down on one of the front desks. “We didn’t really talk after… yesterday.”

He nodded slowly, rubbing a palm over the back of his neck as if there was a tension there he hadn’t shaken.

“About that,” he began, voice pitched lower now—serious in a way that made your stomach flip. “That was close. Too close.”

Your mouth went dry as you glanced up at him, remembering the knock on the door, the way his hand had clamped over your mouth…

“God,” you breathed, heart skipping, “I thought we were screwed.”

James’ eyes darkened, hands braced on the edge of his desk as he studied you. “It was one of the other professors,” he explained. “Looking for me. Nothing more—and I don’t think she heard anything.”

That knot in your chest loosened a fraction at his words, but the unease still coiled there.

“You sure?” you asked quietly.

He held your gaze for a moment before answering. “I’m sure,” he said, but then his brow furrowed, and there was a flash of something rawer in his eyes—something like guilt. “Still, it was too fucking close.”

Your fingers traced the smooth grain of the desk as you listened, lips pressing together. “Yeah,” you agreed softly. “Way too close.”

James exhaled, pushing off the desk and stepping toward you until there was hardly a breath between you. His hands rose—gentle this time—to cup your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones like he was grounding himself.

“If something had happened,” he began, his voice a hushed rasp, “if someone had walked in and seen…”

Your heart thudded harder at the thought, breath catching as you looked up into his gaze.

“James,” you whispered, hands lifting to circle his wrists, “nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened,” he echoed, leaning his forehead to yours, his warm breath feathering across your lips. “But if it had—if someone had heard or seen you—I don’t…” His jaw tensed as the words trailed off, leaving the thought hanging between you, thick and unspoken.

Your chest ached with a strange mix of affection and fear, and you swallowed past the lump in your throat. “I know,” you murmured, the tension trembling in your voice. “And I hate that we have to worry about this.”

For a long moment, neither of you moved—he just held you like you were something fragile, like if he let go, the world might come crashing in.

“You don’t deserve this,” he said finally, his hands trembling ever so slightly against your skin. “Any of it. I hate that I put you in this position.”

Your hands slid up his chest to his shoulders, holding him just as tightly. “Hey,” you whispered, voice fierce despite the softness of the moment, “you didn’t put me anywhere. I chose this. I chose you.”

That broke him.

James’ eyes searched yours like he couldn’t quite believe you—like he needed to feel it in his hands, taste it on your lips to make sure it was real. “And I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he breathed, voice strained with honesty. “God, if anything ever did because of me…”

You reached up and threaded your fingers into the short hair at the nape of his neck, tugging him closer until your lips brushed his. “Nothing will,” you murmured, kissing him gently, lingeringly—hoping he felt every bit of the trust you felt for him.

And when he kissed you back—slow and aching and careful—you felt it too. The weight of his fear, his devotion. The fragile, secret thing you were both holding onto with everything you had.

Your hands stayed tangled in his hair as you pulled back just enough to look at him, really look at him—at the faint crease between his brows, the way his mouth was set in that tense, guarded line you’d come to recognize when something was weighing him down.

“James,” you whispered, voice trembling with the weight of everything swirling in your chest. “I love you. Do you hear me? I love you so much. You’re the only thing that matters to me.”

That admission was raw and naked—and you felt it in your ribs, in your bones, like a trembling thread pulling you toward him no matter what.

But instead of melting into your words like you hoped, he closed his eyes and gave the slightest, aching shake of his head.

“Don’t say that,” he breathed, his hands tightening on your face as though he needed the contact to stay upright. “You deserve so much better than this—better than sneaking around, better than worrying every second if someone’s going to walk in.”

Your heart squeezed painfully at the way his voice broke around the edges.

“James,” you urged, hands smoothing down from his neck to cradle his face, thumbs brushing along the sharp curve of his cheekbones. “Stop. Please.”

But he didn’t stop.

“You deserve someone who can kiss you in the middle of the street,” he went on, his gaze flicking away like he couldn’t bear to look at you as he spoke. “Someone who can take you to dinner, who can introduce you without fearing they’ll lose everything—without fearing they’ll drag you into the fire too.”

That was what this was, you realized in that instant—it wasn’t just worry for himself or even the secret you’d been keeping together. It was guilt.

He thought he was ruining you just by loving you.

Your throat tightened, eyes stinging as you watched him wrestle with it—all the quiet, relentless weight he carried just to have you in his life.

“James,” you said again, softer this time, forcing him to look at you as you smoothed your hands along his jaw. “I don’t care about any of that. None of it. None of the things you think I deserve—none of that matters to me if it means I don’t have you.”

His blue eyes searched yours, pain flickering across his face—like part of him still tried to believe you but the other part was too scared to.

“You don’t see what this is,” he murmured, hands trembling faintly as they held you. “What it could do to you if it ever went wrong.”

You did. And you hated it. Hated that this was where you’d ended up—tangled together in the shadows of his empty classroom with fear nipping at your heels, when all you wanted was him.

When all you ever wanted was him.

“I see you,” you told him fiercely, leaning in so close that your lips nearly brushed his. “And I see everything that could go wrong. But I also see you every time you touch me like this—like I’m all that you’ll ever need—and I swear to God, that’s enough for me.”

James’ brow furrowed deeper at your words, his breath hitching as he listened, and you felt his hands flex against your skin like he was holding on by a thread.

“You are enough,” you whispered. “More than enough. And I’d take this—take you—every single time.”

For a long moment, he was utterly still, his eyes locked on yours as though he was looking for any sign of hesitation, any flicker of doubt—and when he didn’t find it, when all he saw was you looking at him like he was the only person in the world, something in him finally gave.

His hands slid back into your hair, tugging you close, his mouth crashing into yours with a low, aching sound you felt all the way to your heart.

And you kissed him back, hands fisting into the fabric of his shirt, holding him like you never wanted to let him go—like you’d take every shadow, every risk, as long as you could keep this one, fleeting thing that mattered most.

You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, hands still trembling against his chest as you held his gaze.

“I really mean it, James,” you whispered, voice thick with all the feelings crowding your heart. “I want you. Always and forever. I love you and I don’t care about anything else.”

The way he looked at you then—like he was terrified you’d change your mind—made your chest ache. His hands were still tangled in your hair, thumbs stroking the side of your face so carefully you felt it all the way to your fingertips.

“You have no idea,” you continued, breathless but steady, “I’d do anything to make this easier. God, maybe I could transfer. Or drop this whole thing and just—”

He cut you off before you could even finish, a sharp breath leaving him as he shook his head, eyes dark with something that looked too much like fear.

“God, no,” he murmured fiercely, leaning in so close his forehead brushed yours. “Don’t you dare say that. Don’t you even think it.”

You blinked up at him, heart thudding hard in your chest as you felt his hands tighten against you.

“You’re so fucking talented,” he went on, his voice hushed but so full of intensity that it sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re brilliant. Don’t ever throw that away for me.”

And there it was—all the weight he’d been carrying, every ounce of guilt that kept him up at night. You saw it all in the way his brow furrowed and his mouth pressed into a tense line, like it physically pained him to even imagine you giving up your future for him.

“You’re going to do amazing things,” he whispered, thumb grazing along your cheekbone like he could memorize the feel of you. “And I’m not going to be the reason you lose that.”

Your heart twisted at his words—because god, didn’t he see? Didn’t he know that none of those things mattered if you couldn’t have this too?

“You don’t understand,” you whispered back, hands gripping the front of his shirt as though you were scared he might disappear. “None of that feels real without you in it.”

He held your gaze, something raw and aching flickering in his eyes as he searched your face like he was trying to memorize every detail.

And then, so softly you almost missed it, “That’s exactly why I can’t let you.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment you could only stare at him—feeling that bittersweet swell of love and sadness all tangled together.

“You mean that much to me,” he added, hands trembling just slightly as they framed your face. “More than anything. Even if it means I have to wait. Even if it means I have to watch you chase every dream you ever wanted first.”

Your eyes burned, hands fisting tighter into his shirt like you could will him to understand—but he already did.

And when he bent his head to kiss you again, so gentle and so careful like you were something priceless, you felt it in every inch of your soul.

That no matter what happened—no matter where this all led—James would put you first. Always.

He rested his forehead against yours for a long, aching moment, breath fanning gently over your lips like he was trying to find the right words. When they finally came, his voice was quieter—softer—but trembling with the weight of them.

“Maybe…” he began carefully, hands still cradling your face like you were the most precious thing he’d ever held. “Maybe we need to slow this down.”

Your heart stalled, a strange cold blooming in your chest as you searched his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

James exhaled slowly, thumb brushing your cheek as though he could soothe you with that one small touch. “I mean—we need to take a step back,” he murmured. “Not because I want to, god knows I don’t. But you deserve to focus on your future without worrying about someone finding out. About me ruining this for you.”

The words hit you like a chill. Slowing down was the last thing you wanted. Every time you were apart, it felt like you were holding your breath until you could see him again. Every stolen kiss and whispered conversation had felt like lifelines—not distractions.

You stared up at him, hands trembling at your sides. “James…”

He kissed your temple so gently you almost broke. “I just want to do this the right way,” he continued, voice low, threaded with guilt and fierce, protective care. “And god, I hate the idea of making you feel scared or trapped. You mean too much to me to ever risk that.”

Your eyes burned as you looked at him, heart aching with a kind of impossible softness. The way he was looking at you—as if your happiness mattered more to him than his own—it took all the air from your lungs.

And even though every part of you screamed that you never wanted to slow this down, that you didn’t care about the risk, you could see what this was costing him too.

“You really mean that,” you whispered, more to yourself than anything.

He nodded, pressing his forehead back to yours like it was painful to hold back. “I do.”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt like you couldn’t help yourself. “I hate it,” you confessed softly. “I hate the thought of not seeing you as much, of not—”

Your voice broke, and he held you closer, hands rubbing up and down your back like he wished he could take it all away.

“Me too,” he breathed, voice rough. “More than you know.”

And you believed him—you could feel it in the way his arms stayed wrapped around you like he never wanted to let go, in the way he held his breath when you finally whispered:

“Okay.”

That single word felt heavier than anything you’d ever said, but you knew it was what he needed to hear. Even if it shattered a part of you inside.

James’ hands flexed against you, lips brushing your hair like a quiet thank you. “You’re so fucking brave,” he whispered. “And I promise you, sweetheart, this is not forever.”

You closed your eyes and pressed your face into his chest, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat ground you as you nodded.

“Okay,” you breathed again—softer this time, like you were trying to believe it too.

“You should go,” he said again, this time softer, hands slipping reluctantly from your waist as though his touch was already a memory. “Before anyone sees.”

Your stomach dropped at the sound of it—so final, so careful—like a door swinging shut that neither of you wanted to close.

For a moment, you just stared at him, lips parted, a hundred things you wanted to say swirling in your chest. But the knot in your throat was already making it hard to breathe, and his gaze—that gentle, tired sadness in his eyes—told you more than words ever could.

“Fine,” you finally managed, voice trembling as you forced a shaky smile you didn’t feel.

He held your gaze like he might reach for you again, hands flexing at his sides, the muscle in his jaw ticking like this was hurting him too.

And god, it was.

You slipped your bag over your shoulder, every movement slow and aching, like you could stretch this last fragile moment forever if you took your time. But then James gave you a small nod—the kind that left no room for argument—and you knew you had to go.

“See you,” you whispered, stepping backward toward the door, hands trembling against the cold knob as you forced yourself to turn away.

The hallway felt too bright, too loud, like stepping into a different world.

Your fingers dug into your bag’s strap as you moved on autopilot, one foot in front of the other. Every sound around you—the scrape of lockers, distant laughter, someone pushing past—felt muted beneath the dizzy hum of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

By the time you made it outside into the crisp air, you were trembling—shoulders hunching instinctively as if to hide.

God, you hated this part—hated leaving him, hated how much it already hurt.

Your breath hitched, the ache you’d been holding back burning its way up your throat until it was impossible to breathe around it.

You kept your eyes fixed on the path in front of you as you hurried across campus, head down, vision going glassy with tears.

Every step back toward your dorm felt heavier, your chest tighter, like something fragile and vital had been left behind in that classroom—wrapped up in him and his hands and his voice.

And god, you felt so empty without it.

By the time you reached the dorm building, you couldn’t fight it anymore.

You paused halfway up the staircase, leaning into the wall, palm pressed to your face as a shaky breath broke loose—then another—until a choked sob slipped out before you could stop it.

Tears pricked hotly at your eyes as you pressed your forehead against the cool wall and fought to catch your breath, trembling with every ragged inhale.

And all you could do was stand there for a long, aching moment, hands trembling against your damp cheeks, knowing that walking away hadn’t made anything easier—it had only left you feeling raw and hollow in a way that scared you.

When you finally made it back to your room, your hands were trembling so hard you fumbled with your key in the lock. Every breath felt too short, your chest too tight, and you didn’t even realize there were tears on your face until you caught a glimpse of yourself in the tiny mirror by the door—eyes red-rimmed, lips trembling, shoulders tense.

When you pushed the door open, Sarah was sitting cross-legged on her bed, flipping through some notes, humming under her breath—but the second her gaze lifted and took you in, her expression changed completely.

“Oh my god,” she was on her feet in an instant, crossing the space between you in two quick steps. “Hey—hey, wait—what happened? Are you okay?”

You could barely choke back a breath as she reached for you, her hands gentle but firm on your arms like she was scared you’d collapse. And maybe you would have.

Your lip quivered, chin trembling as you just shook your head, trying to hold it together. But the dam you’d been trying so hard to patch up all the way back was breaking, faster and faster, and you didn’t have the strength left to stop it.

“I…” you managed, voice wrecked and shaky before you broke off entirely.

Sarah pulled you into her arms without another word, wrapping you up so tight you could feel her heartbeat against your cheek. That’s when you really broke—a jagged, aching sob tearing up your throat as you buried your face against her shoulder.

“Hey, shhh,” she murmured into your hair, her hands rubbing slow circles on your back. “I’m here. I’m here. Whatever happened, I’ve got you, okay?”

You clung to her like a lifeline, shoulders trembling with each uneven breath, hands bunched into the back of her shirt as if she were the only solid thing left.

“I’ve fucked up,” you choked out after a few breaths, voice raw and shaky. “Sarah, I’ve fucked up so bad. I got into such a fucking mess.”

“Hey, hey,” she pulled back just enough to look at you, hands cupping your face gently so you had to meet her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

Your lips parted, the words right there—all the tangled, messy feelings you’d been carrying for what felt like forever. The secret. Him. The way you loved him so much it scared you, and the way it had all started to feel like a house of cards just waiting for the smallest breeze to knock it all down.

But you couldn’t say it. You weren’t sure you even could if you tried.

Instead, you just shook your head again, eyes stinging as more tears threatened to spill. “I can’t,” you whispered, the words cracking. “God, I can’t even tell you. It’s just—it’s too much.”

Her brow furrowed, worry etched across her face, but she didn’t push. Didn’t pry. Just gathered you up again without hesitation, one hand smoothing the back of your hair as you clung to her like you might disappear otherwise.

“It’s okay,” Sarah murmured against your temple, voice soft and sure. “I’m here. Whatever it is, you can tell me—I’m here.”

And you felt it in the way she held you—steady and warm, her presence solid enough to lean into when everything else was spinning out of control.

Part 7 soon 💋

tags (tysm for all the love and support, If you asked to be tagged and I didn’t tag you it means I couldn’t for some reason 💔): @iamthatonefangirl @hiraethmae @im-feeling-blue-today @beforemdnight @just4w3irdo @bloodmocha @lovinqbella @its-in-the-woods @muchwita @iyskgd @harrietandcats @shortandb1tchy @luv4kook @grovelingmen @buckybarneswife125 @xamapolax @glitterspark @azrielsgirll @mortallydistinguishedwolf @shaheea @simp4f1 @voidanima @buckytakethewheel @thatsbucknasty @herejustforbuckybarnes @sebastians-love @wntersoidiertk @emcharra @user911224 @stell404 @peanutbutt3rcup @heymydearheart @s-sh-ne

[athenalvss]

Could you write with Wally West being silly and madly in love with a girl Y/N, but every time he tries to confess, something happens (like that cliché scene where the boy is trying to confess in the middle of the hall and he ends up falling, something like this hehe)

WOULD YOU BE MY.... ( wally west! )

Summary: Wally is finally ready to face the girl he likes and tell her how he feels about her, but well, apparently fate doesn't want it that way.

pairing: Wally west x fem!reader

open request - wally west masterlist

Wally West paced the halls of Justice Tower, his heart beating faster than his feet. Every time he thought of you, the world became a little brighter, though also a little more chaotic. His mind kept going over and over in his head: Today is the day. Today I'm going to tell her how I feel.

He'd been rehearsing the speech in his head for days, searching for the perfect words to express what he thought without sounding like a complete mess. But, as always, when the time came, everything fell apart.

He stopped in front of the training room door. You were inside, adjusting the bandages on your wrists, ready for another training session after a mission, although you shouldn't have been doing so given the massive blow you'd taken. Maybe it wasn't the right time, but then again, it wasn't the right time for this kind of situation. Wally ruffled his hair a little, took a deep breath, and approached the door, determined this time would be different.

He'd been rehearsing the speech in his head for days, searching for the perfect words to let you know what he feels without sounding like a complete mess. But, as always, when the time came, everything fell apart.

This time everything would be okay. He'd tell you everything he felt for you, you'd say yes, he'd kiss you, and he'd hug you until you grew tired of him, everything would be okay this time, not like the other four times.

The first time, he'd tried it in the Tower cafeteria. He'd set out a tray of food and drinks, sat right next to you, and started a normal conversation, trying to find the right words to get it all out, but just as he started talking, Beast Boy excitedly entered the room to show off his newfound animal transformation, accidentally knocking a tray of milkshakes over Wally.

The second time, for some reason, he thought it would be a brilliant idea to say it in the middle of a mission, after you saved his life by pulling him out of the way of a giant laser beam. Nothing like a post-near-death love confession, right?

"For the love of god, are you okay, Walls?" you said, on the verge of worry.

"I'm more than fine! Because you... I... actually, there's something I want to tell you..."

And just as you were about to let him go, a ship exploded behind you, and he let out a high pitched scream like a five yeas old. Neither of you spoke of it again, but Wally knew you'd been laughing at him inside.

The third time he tried, he wrote a note, complete with little drawings and hearts; he'd even scented the paper. He discreetly left it in your locker, convinced it was his masterpiece. That was until the fire alarms went off and a large group of students ran down the hallway, sending the letter flying, leaving no chance for you to read it.

The fourth time you two were training together, he was really trying hard, really wanting to impress you, making spectacular dodges, rolling on the floor with a confident smile.

"I have to tell you something…"he began.

And right there, when you were trying to throw a punch, he slipped because he wasn't concentrating and fell backward, hitting his head on a dumbbell. Hours later, he woke up in the infirmary with a bandage on his forehead and a note from you that said: "Rest easy, silly Flash ❤️‍🩹"

He nervously shook his hands against his pants, as if that would take away his fear. This time, this time it was going to work.

He'd seen you from across the hall. You had a makeshift bandage on your forehead and a water bottle in your hand. Despite that, Wally thought you looked like the prettiest girl on the planet with that bandage and that bruise on your face.

There were no explosions. There were no drills. There were no treacherous weights. Just the two of you, and this time, he was going to tell you.

He approached with a clumsy but determined step, without running, even though everything in him told him to flee or at least make a joke to break the tension. But no. This time he was going to be direct. He was going to speak from the heart.

"Hey..." he said, with that smile of his that always appeared when he was around her, that smile accompanied by hearts in his eyes. He ran one of his hands behind his head and rubbed the back of his neck, nervously. "Do you have a second?"

You looked up with a soft smile, tiredness still etched in your eyes. "Sure, Walls. What's up?"

He stopped in front of you, and for once in his life, he managed to hold your gaze. It felt like fireworks were going off in his chest, like his hands were getting wet with anxiety, he felt his words pile up in his throat, and for the first time, they didn't stumble over each other. He was more than ready.

"I've been wanting to tell you something for a while. Something that... well, that scares me a little, but I can't keep it to myself anymore because every time I see you I feel like-"

you blink slowly, once, two, three times.

"You okay, hon?" he asked, confused by the sudden lack of response.

And before he could say or do anything else, you stumbled forward, as if the world were slipping away from under you. Wally caught you in his arms just in time.

—¡Hey! Hey, hey! No, no, no, don't do this to me! —he said, holding you with a mixture of panic and desperation.

You were unconscious. Fainted.

The blow you'd received during the mission, the improvised bandage, the exhaustion. obviously something was going to happen

And he, again, with the words on the tip of his tongue...

Damn fate

[simjakesgirl]

drive in (18+)

synopsis: you and jake haven't seen each other for a while and decide to go see a drive in movie... warnings: afab reader, smut, dom!jake, brattamer!jake (sortaa??), sub!reader, degrading author's note: okay i haven't forgot abt my series but i am multi fandom and while digging through my drafts i found this old jake smut and it's kinda good lol..

you and jake went out to see a drive in movie, unsure of the last time you guys might’ve went on a date. you can guess the outcome of that, you were dying to just touch each other. jake, being a gentleman, tried his best not to go insane when you left the house in the tiniest skirt he'd ever seen. of course he also couldn’t tell you not to wear it because it was him that bought it for you. you knew exactly what you were doing though. it barely covered enough for his liking and you knew that it would drive him crazy. with so much comeback preparations, the only thing you got was phone calls when he was too fucked to even think straight and he needed to hear your voice.

it became obvious that you guys needed more as you both could barely pay attention to the movie. you noticed how jake would look over once in a while, not at your face of course and then quickly turn back to the movie with no focus on it whatsoever. his mind raced with things he wanted to do to you instead, but his restraint was strong. you couldn't help but look over at him too, taking in the way his jaw was tightly clenched and his hands fidgeted with each other. he looked too good and knowing that he wanted you just as bad as you wanted him was enough to tip you over the edge.

you then got the best idea possibly ever. you quickly checked your surroundings as jake’s eyes stayed glued to the movie. everyone seemed preoccupied, just enough for you to get away with your plan. jake drove a pretty old car, not because it was all he could afford or anything, but because he liked the style of it. the downside was the air system was pretty busted. it would only really work when it felt like working and jake constantly worried about overheating the car especially in summer, so he'd try and run the ac when it did work. you realized since you guys left that jake forgot your blanket that you'd use when he ran the ac since you preferred warmer temps. the plan was destined to work.

you began to fake shiver in your seat, rubbing against your arms and chattering your teeth just enough to make it look real. jake quickly took notice, shutting off the ac and turning to check the backseat.

“fuck,” he breathed out. you almost stop breathing at the sound.

he turned back to you, examining the way you shivered and looked up to him innocently.

“i forgot the blanket, i'm sorry,” he apologized sweetly, biting his lip while trying to think of a way to help you.

“it’s okay, jakey,” you pouted, trying to seem as innocent as possible even though your plan was far from it.

“here.” he removed his hands from his lap, gesturing you over with his fingers. “sit on my lap.”

you hid your smile the best that you could, climbing over the center console and sitting between his legs so you were facing the movie. he innocently kissed the top of your head before pulling you gently into his chest for comfort. you were inches away from what you needed, except you were unsure how to get the point across. he brought his hands to your legs, rubbing them to warm you up, but stopping inches away from where you needed him the most. you shifted around, purposefully rubbing against his dick a little bit to give him a hint. his breath hitched, but he didn’t do anything further, making you pout. you tried again, making it more obvious.

“here,” he lifted you up onto his thigh, putting his hand loosely around your waist so you couldn’t fall. “is that better?”

“..mhm” you hummed, lightly grinding yourself against him, fighting for release.

at this point jake knew what you were up to, but he didn’t want you to think it would be so easy. he’d let you continue and then stop you once you were close by moving his leg. tears began to bore at your eyes as your multiple attempt failed. you didn’t know why he couldn’t notice you needed him.

“why're you pouting like that, sweetheart?” he teased, turning back to the screen.

“jakey please.” you breathed out, your tears falling from your eyes at that point.

“what’s wrong, hm?” he started, his voice laced with fake comfort. “you wanna cum?”

you nodded quickly, looking at him with glossy eyes as he looked down on you with dark ones.

“tell me what you want.” he demanded, finding himself getting hard at your quivering lip and teary eyes.

he turned you around effortlessly, your back now facing the movie. you looked down, shy all of a sudden and buried your face in the crook of his neck.

“i..i want you to fuck me jake…please.” you pleaded, just above a whisper.

“yeah?” you could hear the smirk in his voice. “that’s why you wore this little skirt to tease me and rubbed yourself against my dick like a whore? hm?”

you nodded, your face still buried in embarrassment.

“if you want it, you’re gonna speak to me like a big girl,” he said, bringing his hands to your arms and pushing you away from his neck.

you diverted your gaze, playing with the bottom of his shirt innocently, too shy to look at him. his hand quickly left your arm, holding your chin and pushing it up so you had to look at him.

“tell me then,” jake started again as if he was disciplining you.

his eyes locked with yours, making you shiver under his touch.

“i…i wanted to tease you,” you admitted, your cheeks getting hot under his gaze. “m’ sorry, please forgive me.”

your eyes welled up with tears and the pressure from trying to hold them back had you sucking in your breath.

“baby, i know you’re sorry,” he fake consoled you, rubbing his thumb against your bottom lip. “but you know how hard you made things for me?”

“yes,” you choked out, tears soaking your face from how bad you felt.

he stuck his thumb into your mouth, rubbing against the soft padding of your tongue.

“then tell me you’ll be good girl,” he demanded, his eyes flitting back up to yours.

he removed his thumb from your mouth, still holding your chin.

“i’m a g-good girl,” you repeated, just above a whisper.

“you can do better, do it again,” he demanded.

“i-i’m a g-good girl.” you repeated, louder but strained from your crying.

“stop crying, do it again.”

you whimpered, biting down on your bottom lip to try and calm down, but the frustration only made you want to cry more.

“please, jake, i’m a good girl.” you repeated once again, gripping the bottom of his shirt to put your frustration somewhere.

he reached down, unhooking your hands from his shirt to unzip his jeans. he pushed through his boxers to free his cock and you almost drooled at the sight, especially the way he ran his hand over it to jerk himself just a bit.

“you think you’re a good enough girl for it?” he questioned, his voice husky and strained.

you nodded quickly, looking up at him for a split second to meet his dark stare.

"you want it?” he asked.

you nodded again, trying to grab it, but jake grabbed your wrist tightly.

“nuh-uh, you want it, then you gotta beg me for it.”

you whined again, feeling yourself wanting to cry. your core was aching painfully, just wanting to be touched, but you couldn’t do anything about it. you pouted, trying to lightly grind yourself just barely against jake’s leg to ease the pain and clear your mind, but his hands came to your waist, holding you with such a grip, you couldn’t move.

“you really are a whore,” jake degraded, “can’t even spend two seconds without touching yourself. you see how pathetic that is?”

“jakey, please, i can’t think straight. i want it so bad, it hurts, please give it to me. please, daddy.” you babbled, not even registering half of the things you were saying.

“it hurts, baby? is that right?”

you nodded, taking shallow breaths to control your emotion. his cock visibly jumped, not that you noticed at all. you weren’t noticing much of anything at that moment. he knew it was past enough teasing for you, but now also for him.

“fuck,” he breathed out. “lay back for me.”

you laid back against the wheel as jake pulled your legs closer to him so he could see under the skirt. right away there was a dark wet patch against your underwear and his jeans. he pulled them off to the side, you now on display for him. he ran his fingers up your folds, noticing how sensitive you were from the slightest touch. you couldn’t help but moan when he touched you since you’d been waiting so long. he stuck two of his fingers in, watching your face as he slowly fucked them in and out. you wanted him to go faster, but you knew better than to provoke him at that moment. at least he was giving you something. he waited until you climaxed to even think about himself, his restraint wavering towards the end as he guided you through your high.

he spit on his dick, jerking with it before lining himself up. you looked at him with lidded eyes, almost too drunk on feelings to even keep them open.

“fuck,” he breathed out while he pushed himself in.

you moaned lightly, trying to keep quiet before anyone got suspicious, but jake didn’t seem to care. the way he had you, if anyone looked over they'd know exactly what was happening. slowly you forgot to care too, the way jake felt was just too good after so long without him in you.

“kiss me,” you strained out to him.

he pulled you towards him, kissing you and swallowing your sounds as they came. you tried your best to slowly ride him so the car didn't shake so much, but eventually jake got tired of it and took things into his own hands.

“feel good?” he asked through heavy breaths.

“yes, it feels so so good jakey.” you whined, feeling close already.

he took notice, bringing his thumb to your clit to bring you to your high. you tried to hold back, not wanting the moment to end just yet, but the sensation was too much.

"stop fighting it. be good and cum for me, sweetheart."

and that was all it took. before you knew it you were cumming all over his cock and he was pulling you off.

“wait, what about you?” you asked as he was still visibly hard.

“you know i can’t help but feel bad for you, baby, but it doesn’t mean that you can get away with anything. we still have to go home,” he explained, covering you up once again before himself “i didn’t even punish you yet.”

he gestured for you to sit back in the passenger seat and next thing you knew, he was pulling out of the lot...

[barleyo]

Acceptable in the 80's.

Bodhi Windbreaker X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: i know bodhi isn't the most popular dateable, but he is one of my absolute favorites. even if this is totally self-indulgent, i hope somebody else enjoys it too.

Tags: mentions of porn, fingering, handjobs, making out/kissing

Wordcount: ~0.8k

Learning about the modern era was interesting, sure, but Bodhi definitely had a preference for his time. This new, strange world made him feel behind, like he was being left out on a joke, and he was, in a way. Everything moved so quickly, despite how long he had been in his time capsule.  Things were just so different now. Not for the better. 

He told you about it all the time, ranting and raving about the 80s and how much he missed it. 

Movies, he claimed, were so much more entertaining. The actors were talented, the actresses were bombshells, and the special effects were "radical." 

Music was hip and catchy. He didn't mind newer tunes, he could admit that there was definitely more diversity now, but it just didn't hit the same. 

He thought today's fashion was clunky and cheap, that the food was overly processed and strange, and that technology was too advanced for his tastes. Social media? God, it hurt his head. Why did everything have to have an algorithm? And what the hell was A.I.? Living robots—like Johnny Five, right?

When he discovered the less wholesome side of modern internet, he found that he preferred the older alternative to it as well.

Bodhi brought you into the living room, carrying a large box of tapes and magazines. 

"I know, I tell you this all the time, babe, but the 80s was something special," he said, beaming down at you as he dropped the box on the floor. "You just had to be there. Or, in your case, you didn't have to be, because I'm gonna catch you up."

You watched him dig through the box and explain the decade's pop culture. It was interesting, but you mainly just stared at his adorably excited face the whole time. 

Bodhi bounced from topic to topic, clueing you in on his unique world of retro nostalgia. It was sweet, seeing him trip down memory lane.

"Right, and nobody knew George Michael was gay?" you asked, listening to him as he moved onto music of the 80s. 

He shook his head, giving a shrug. "I guess we were all too caught up with Hands Across America to notice." 

He dug at the bottom of the box, scooping up a final VHS. 

"What's that?"

"Last thing for today," he answered, blowing the dust out of the cartridge. "Films."

As he loaded the tape into the VHS player he had managed to find, you raised an eyebrow. 

"Didn't we already watch old movies?"

"Yeah, but this isn't a movie," Bodhi smirked, turning to face you as his finger traced over the play button. "It's a film. You know," he shrugged, "an adult film."

"Oh."

He clicked play and took a seat next to you on the floor. "Pornos were much better in the 80s too," he said, tossing an arm over your shoulders. 

You didn't realize how the video was making you feel until your hand was slowly pumping at Bodhi's cock, eyes flicking back and forth from the screen to him to make sure your movements matched. 

You kissed him softly, your arm crossing his as you both went to work on each other. The position wasn't nearly as awkward as you thought it might have been. Really, sitting so close to him while his needy hands trailed over you, going exactly where you needed him, was heaven. 

You slipped your tongue into his mouth and explored for a bit, nipping his lips when his thumb ran over your clit.

"Careful," he warned through gritted teeth, sucking in a breath, "it's still got five minutes left. Don't wanna cum before that."

You hummed and slowed your pace. It killed you to do so, but the idea of cumming with the actors was too hot to pass up. If Bodhi kept curling his fingers into you the way he was, you'd be on track to do just that. 

You mumbled a bit, making meaningless observations about the video, trying to distract yourself from how close you were. 

"The music in the back is nice," you said, face flushed.

"Yeah, porn doesn't set the mood with background music anymore."

You felt his hand grip onto your hip impatiently. You were sucking his fingers into your cunt deeper and deeper—how could he not get hasty? 

His cock kicked in your hand before it spurted thin, milky cum, but with your own orgasm crashing over you, you could hardly focus on that. 

The porno faded to black shortly after you both finished, the tape ejecting with a click. Sex with Bodhi was always fun, but this time was especially interesting. You wiped his cum off of your palm and shot him a devious smile.

"The guy had a cute mustache."

Bodhi chuckled softly. "Y'like 'staches?" He ran his fingers over his top lip. "Maybe I'll grow one for you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. That is, if you grow your bush out for me," he said, eyeing your mound, "in true 80s fashion."

[revelboo]

Hi revel!!! So I had an idea for a scenario for either various or just 1 bot but im a transman and im a full blown himbo. Like kinda short, but a lot of muscle and freakishly strong for my size 😭 sometimes I freak out my much larger husband with my strength cuz he forgets because of how short I am. Anyways I was just wondering how like Rodimus, ES Megatron (my faves<3) or any other bot/s of your choice would react to that. Ty for all that you do for the transformers Fandom <3!!!

Sure!

Strong

ES Megatron x Reader

• Watching him fumbling absently around on his desk, you put your shoulder against the nearly empty energon cube and push. Bare feet squeaking on metal as the cube slides with a rasp and he looks over at you in surprise. “Thank you, little one,” he rumbles softly, that little crease between his optics making you want to smooth it away with your fingers as you smile breathlessly.

• “Any time,” you say, grinning as you resume restlessly pacing and he picks up the cube, testing the weight. Every now and then he’s seen you jog circuits around the edge of his berth or stretch out to push yourself up with your arms. Training. Likes watching you move, the way you can bend and stretch. Like right now, one arm extended over your head as you bend slightly, stretching. So fascinatingly flexible compared to him.

• “We could spar sometime,” he says, lifting the cube to drink and you wrinkle your nose. Knowing how one sided that would be. You like to workout, to push yourself, but he’s still a lot bigger than you are even mass displaced. You’d done track and wrestled in high school and after graduating, you’d tried to hit the gym in the mornings. Lifted weights and ran on the treadmills, because you could listen to music and lose yourself to the routine of it. It was your breathing space from everything else.

• “Would you let me win?” You ask and he laughs, tapping a servo against his cube. He’d like to lie. Say that he’d play spar and let you pin him down just to see you smile, to build up your confidence. But he knows he’d pin you down and claim you as his. Rut against you until you’re both spent. And then do it again. Servos flexing on the cube until it starts to bend with a little crack and he eases up.

• ‘I’d dominate you,’ he counters on a growl, a servo sliding against the side of the cube, optics brightening. ‘Conquer you.’ And your smile becomes wicked. “You can certainly try,” you challenge as you give him a slow once over. Brows lifting as he smiles, you dance backward on his desk, hands up gesturing for him to bring it on. Knowing you can’t win, but with consequences like these, you don’t mind losing. Don’t mind getting a workout before the real workout either.

[angelltheninth]

Do I know anything about the predator series? Not in the slightest. But god after watching killer of killers, Monsterfucker me came out and started rubbing her hands like a fly and thought what would it be like to a predator boyfriend (ya know if we’re lucky to be a mate to a predator) sooo may I request that? Obviously there’s hunting involved but with a twist hehe

I've always loved the Yautja, they're one of my favorite alien species. Especially loved them in Killer of Killers.

Pairing: Male!Yautja x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, predator/prey dynamic, hunting, alien sex, size difference, mating, human!Reader

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: My theory is that if they were real they would be too scared to visit us because we're too horny for them.

Your Yautja!boyfriend was hard before he even started hunting you down, the very idea of you being his willing prey and prize enough to excite him so much that you didn't know if it would be a problem for him to chase you

Before you started running your Yautja!boyfriend made it clear that he won't hold back, he will hunt you like means it

You ran from your Yautja!boyfriend like your life depended on it not because you were scared of him but because you wanted to give him a real challenge, not some easy trophy

Every time he got close you felt yourself growing wetter and you knew your Yautja!boyfriend knew it too, that he was just as horny as you were if not more because of his urge to capture and breed you

As you hide you try to get your heartbeat and breathing under control but every time you hear your Yautja!boyfriend getting closer you can't help but touching your pussy, being deliberately loud as you moan out and hear him make a deep growling noise in return

He doesn't appreciate you teasing him like this so your Yautja!boyfriend gets you running again by cornering you against a tree first and getting right in your face, his huge hands spreading your legs open, almost chuckling when you whine because he's not doing anything else right now, so you push him, or try to, and run once more

When your Yautja!boyfriend corners you again you fight back in his grip, you struggle, you punch and scratch and even stab him with a hunting knife only to have him pin you down, his cock twitching and leaking more and more with every attempt at your retaliation

Since he's so much bigger than you your Yautja!boyfriend wants you to be at least somewhat comfortable when taking his huge cock

Despite your Yautja!boyfriend trying his best to be careful you angle yourself above his cock, grinning as your pussy drips and coats it with your slick and urging him to inch his cock into your pussy, the structured girth stretching you to your limit

Knowing that he could handle you however he wanted, use you however you wanted, use your whenever you wanted, fuck you however he wanted fueled your love for your Yautja!boyfriend and how caring he actually was

Even in the thorns of his mating cycle your Yatuja!boyfriend kept your pleasure on the forefront of his mind, keeping you so tightly pressed against his body that with each one of his thrusts made your clit throb against his abs

Can't possibly get his whole cock inside you no matter how hard he batters at your wet pussyhole and it makes your Yautja!boyfriend frustrated

Won't warn you when he's about to come because your Yautja!boyfriend wants to surprise you with how much seed he's able to pump into your womb at once

Insistent on pushing his seed as deep into your pussy and having it stay there your Yautja!boyfriend fucks you through your orgasm, leaving you a shaking, almost limp, mess in his arms

Purring was about the only way to describe the noise coming from your Yautja!boyfriend in the aftermath of your mating

Dividers by: @/cafekitsune

[orellazalonia]

Hii, i have a request. I recently just started reading the shatter me series again - idk if you know it - but the main character has a lethal touch, every person she touches - but one man - dies if she touches them, and I was wondering if you could hse that concept but the only person reader can touch is Bucky Barnes. So like, the avengers find her at hydra, and she's settling in at the tower, and gets close with bucky, and then she accidentally touches him, but nothing happens. Idk if you understand this but i hope you do!<3

Hello there! I absolutely loved this idea, has so much potential for angst to be honest. It fits well into the Whispers of the Gifted series as well. So, thank you for the request and I hope you enjoy! Happy reading!!!

Safe in His Hands

Summary: After being rescued from Hydra, you struggle to adjust to life at the Avengers Tower, haunted by your lethal touch that kills anyone you make skin contact with until Bucky Barnes catches you, and nothing happens. (Bucky Barnes x reader)

Disclaimer: Reader has the power to end the life of anyone she touches. Mentions of death & labs/experimentation. Angst. Hurt/Comfort.

Word Count: 2.4k+

Main Masterlist | Whispers of the Gifted Masterlist

You were seven years old when you first killed someone.

It wasn’t on purpose. You were just a kid. Scared, hungry, and cold. They’d come into your holding room. One of the guards, you didn’t recognize him. He was probably new. He knelt in front of you and told you to stand. You didn’t, so he grabbed your arm.

He didn’t even scream. He just dropped, went limp, and his life was gone.

They ran so many tests after that. Hooked you to wires, sliced open skin, injected chemicals, brought in more test subjects. They wanted to understand you. Your blood. Your skin. Your curse.

Because all it took was one touch, skin to skin. A brush of fingers, a hand on a wrist, a graze of your palm against someone’s cheek all resulted in instant death. There were no explanations. No control. You were death in the shape of a human. And Hydra thought that made you useful.

So they kept you, caged you. Covered you in thick gloves, containment suits, and glass walls. “For your own safety,” They always said. But you knew better. It wasn’t about protecting you. It was about protecting everyone else from you.

You stopped speaking eventually. What was the point? Words couldn’t undo what your hands did.

But then, one night, everything exploded.

You didn’t know who they were at first. The power cut out and all you heard were screams and gunshots that echoed through the halls. You stayed in your corner, knees pulled to your chest, not daring to move. You knew better than to open the door anyways.

But someone else did.

Blinding light flooded your cell, and a figure stood in the doorway, silhouetted by sparks and smoke, a shield strapped to his back. Others moved behind him. You thought you saw a red glow and a flash of metal.

Then his eyes landed on you. You couldn’t move, didn’t breathe, just waited for the orders, the fear, the recoil.

But none came.

“Hey,” He said gently, crouching just enough to be eye-level. “You okay?”

You stared back, not answering.

Another stepped beside him. A man with brown hair and a metal arm, tense but watchful. “She’s not chained,” He murmured. “But look at the gloves. She’s not here by choice.”

“She’s scared,” A third voice said. Female, distant, but knowing. You felt her inside your head like a whisper. “But not of us.”

They didn’t grab you, didn’t drag you. Just offered a hand and waited. You didn’t take it, of course. But you stood slowly and followed.

You didn’t know who they were yet. But you did know one thing: They weren’t Hydra.

Days passed in a blur after that. You were moved to a new facility, high in the sky, full of windows and white light. They called it the Avengers Tower. They gave you a room, food, and clothes that didn’t itch. There were no cells and no experiments.

But still… no touch.

You kept the gloves on and never sat too close to anyone. You didn’t speak at first and they didn’t push. But you could feel the caution in the air, the curiosity. They didn’t know. No one did. And you didn’t want them to.

Because you knew what would happen. They’d lock you up again. Maybe not in a lab, but in some new kind of prison. For their safety and for yours.

So you kept your head down. Ate your meals in silence. Avoided the common room when too many people were there. You stayed quiet and small.

But he kept showing up. The one with the metal arm. Bucky.

He never asked questions. Never pried. Just… existed near you. Sat with you across the room. Passed you a glass of water. Nodded when you acknowledged him. Said goodnight sometimes, soft and gruff. You didn’t know why, but it didn’t scare you.

In fact, he was the only one who didn’t make you feel like glass. Like a threat. And soon, you weren’t avoiding him. You began waiting for him.

As time passed, you had just started feeling like a person again.

You still kept your gloves on, still flinched when someone got too close. But you were sleeping more. Eating with the others, sometimes. Sitting in the common room without being asked. And you were talking to Bucky. Really talking.

He had this quiet way of making you feel seen without shining a spotlight. He didn’t ask invasive questions or try to dig up your trauma like it was some kind of prize. He let you sit beside him in silence, let you borrow his books, or let you eat the cherry from his drink when you thought no one saw.

You’d started laughing again. Just a little, especially with him. Which is why it hurt when everything shifted again.

It happened on a late Tuesday morning. You’d just made tea, still in one of those oversized sweatshirts Pepper had given you, trailing quietly into the common room with your gloves on.

The team was already there. And the air felt thick. It was too quiet. No jokes. No arguing. No music playing in the background.

You paused near the doorway and noticed everyone’s behavior and body language. Steve was sitting stiffly. Natasha leaned against the wall with her arms crossed. Sam looked like he was trying not to look at you. Wanda and Bruce wouldn’t meet your gaze at all.

And then there was Tony. Standing in front of a projection screen, a file hovering behind him in holographic light.

Your file. Hydra’s file. You didn’t need to see the text to recognize the red lettering. The Hydra seal with your photo and warnings stamped across every page.

“Subject shows consistent and immediate lethality through direct epidermal contact.” “High fatality rate confirmed through controlled experimentation.” “Extreme caution advised. Gloves required at all times.”

The word “Thanatos” was printed in bold near the top. Your old title, the one they gave you, and the one you hated.

“Right,” Tony said, exhaling as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “So. Now that everyone’s caught up, I figured we should have the ‘Don’t-Touch-the-New-Girl-or-You’ll-Die’ talk.”

Your heart stopped. No one looked at you.

“Well, technically, she’ll still be the last one standing,” He added, more to himself. “Silver lining.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t know what to say as you just stood there. The tea cooling in the cup still in your hands. The weight of the scene before you sinking in your chest.

Natasha was the first to say anything, sighing. “Tony, seriously?”

“What? Did I lie?” He snapped. “You all needed to know.”

“Not like that,” Steve said, his jaw clenched. “She has a right to her privacy–“

“She has a death-touch!” Tony said, throwing a hand toward the screen. “If any of you brushed her arm on the way to the coffee machine, you'd be dead, Rogers! I’m not saying kick her out, I’m saying awareness matters!”

They argued. You didn’t hear most of it.

You turned around before anyone could stop you. Walked straight back down the hall, the sound of their voices fading behind you. You didn’t cry. You just felt cold. Like your skin didn’t belong to you anymore. Like you were back in that white room at Hydra, gloves stapled to your wrists.

You didn’t see Bucky in the room. But hours later, he found you sitting on the floor of your room, knees pulled up to your chest.

He knocked once before entering and sat down slowly across from you.

“They know,” You said flatly, not looking at him.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’m not safe.” You swallowed. “Not for any of you.”

He didn’t respond right away. Then: “You’ve been safe the entire time I’ve known you.”

You looked at him then, really looked. “You didn’t read the file, did you?”

“No,” He said honestly. “I didn’t need to.”

You blinked. “Why not?”

He leaned forward slightly, eyes calm, and voice even. “Because I’ve seen the way you move through a room. I’ve seen how careful you are, how you never slip or let your guard down, not even by accident. You think I haven’t been watching? You think I don’t get it?”

He lifted his metal hand slowly, carefully.

“I’ve lived with hands that kill, too.”

Your throat closed.

“And for what it’s worth,” He said, his voice quieter now, “I want to be the one you trust to take that risk to be around.”

You couldn’t speak. Not yet.

But later that night, after everyone had gone quiet, you stepped into the kitchen and found him waiting. You sat beside him in silence.

Your gloved hand rested on the counter beside his. And even after everything… you didn’t pull away.

But then it happened three nights later.

You weren’t reckless. Not intentionally. You never were, but the compound was darker than usual. Backup generators hummed, and flickering lights made every corner look unfamiliar. You were alone in the library’s upper balcony, reaching for a book too far up. You thought you were alone and with the AC not working well, you had pushed your sleeves up for once.

You didn’t mean to fall. Because you never let yourself be careless. Never let yourself slip. Because you knew what happened when you did. Every part of your body was a loaded gun. Every uncovered inch of skin was a threat.

But you had reached too far and your footing gave way. You didn’t even scream. You just reached out, an instinct burned into your body since before you could remember, and then–

Hands caught you. Strong. Steady. One metal but one flesh. And you felt it, the bare skin on yours.

You froze. Air jammed in your lungs as panic rose fast.

“No–” You choked. “No no no no no– let go!”

You shoved him back hard. Harder than you meant to. You hit the floor on your side, gloves scattering across the room as your eyes went wild trying to find him.

But Bucky didn’t collapse.

He stumbled, yes. But he caught himself, and looked at you. Hands still open in the air where they’d caught your arms. Still alive.

Your vision tunneled. Breath stuttering, chest too tight to expand.

“You–” Your voice broke like glass. “I touched you–“

“I know.”

He said it too calmly. Like he didn’t understand the weight of what just happened. Like he hadn’t just died.

“I didn’t mean to–I didn’t… I wasn’t thinking, I wasn’t–“ You curled in on yourself, dragging your sleeves back down over your hands, trying to find air in a room that had too much of it. “I don’t want you to die–I always kill them–“

“Hey.” His voice was closer, lower and solid. “You didn’t kill me.”

You shook your head violently, barely hearing him. Your hands were trembling so hard it hurt. Your whole body buzzed with panic. Your mind raced ahead to things that hadn’t happened. Memories of bodies falling, the smell of burned skin, the lifeless weight of people you'd only brushed.

“Look at me,” Bucky said again, firm this time. “Look at me.”

You did.

He was knelt in front of you, not touching you now, but not afraid either. Still breathing. Still alive.

“Nothing happened,” He said, slower this time. “You didn’t hurt me. You didn’t even make me dizzy.”

“I’ve never…” You voice cracked. “No one ever survives it.”

“I did.”

You stared at him, unable to believe it. Skin still crawling like you were seconds away from watching his eyes go blank, his heart stutter and stop.

But he stayed there, breathing evenly, watching you with calm in his storm-blue eyes.

“I don’t know why,” He said, not trying to sugarcoat it. “But you can touch me.”

And somehow, that was the thing that finally broke you. Not the fear. Not the guilt. Not the flashbacks.

Hope.

Because if there was one person in the world you could touch… then maybe you weren’t a monster after all. And that was almost harder to believe.

You didn’t move for a long time and neither did Bucky. He stayed close but not too close. Never crossed the line, never reached out. He just waited. Like he knew you were still one breath away from bolting down the hall.

But he did shift just slightly. “You don’t have to talk,” He said quietly. “Not yet, but I’m not going anywhere.”

Your voice was raw when you answered: “It’s not supposed to be possible.”

He said nothing.

“I’ve killed people for less,” You whispered. “Brushed their wrist, bumped a shoulder. They all…”

The words fractured. Your breath hitched too hard to finish. And still, he didn’t speak. Not in that moment.

But then he exhaled slowly. “They did that to me, too, you know,” He said. “Hydra. Taught me my hands could only cause hurt. That I wasn’t allowed to have anything good, not without ruining it.”

Your gaze flicked toward him, blurry and sharp at once. He looked tired. Not pitiful, not fragile–just… weathered. Like he understood.

“I got used to keeping distance,” He went on, gaze softening. “Figured I didn’t deserve closeness anymore.”

Something tight pulled in your heart.

“I never thought I’d be the one someone like you was scared to hurt.”

Your throat tightened. “That’s not what this is.”

He tilted his head. “No?”

You looked away, unable to meet the weight in his eyes. “I wasn’t scared of hurting you,” You admitted, voice quieter now. “I knew I would.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy. It wasn’t judgment. It was understanding. The kind you’d only felt a few times in your life, and never like this.

Eventually, you managed to crawl forward, slowly, moving with the hesitance of someone reaching across a minefield. Bucky stayed perfectly still, not guiding, not pushing.

You reached for his hand. Skin to skin. And still… nothing.

No death. No pain. Just warmth.

You let out a shaky breath.

“I’ve never touched anyone like this,” You admitted, more to yourself than him. “Without hurting them.”

Bucky’s fingers curled gently around yours.

“You’re not hurting me,” He said. “You never have.”

The sob built in your throat before you could stop it. Ugly, sudden, and sharp. Bucky didn’t flinch. Just waited, fingers still gently holding yours. Like it wasn’t dangerous. Like it was normal.

Like maybe, for once, you were allowed to be human. And for the first time since the day Hydra named you a weapon, you believed that might be true.

[multiversefanfics]

Need You To Sleep

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Warning: nothing but fluff Summary: Dean needs to hold your wrist while he sleeps to feel comfortable, your heartbeat relaxes him. Word Count: 730 A/N: Got this idea from tiktok

Dean Winchester.

The big bad hunter, the man who wouldn't think twice about killing something that posed a threat to you or hurt you, the man who sleeps with a gun under his pillow, now sleeps with your arm under his pillow. You never thought in a million years that Dean would need you to sleep, the two of you hated each other when you met, but one drunk night, he realizes he can't live without you.

The first time you and Dean slept in the same bed together, he kept his distance, he was afraid he would have a nightmare and wake you up, or worse, accidentally hit you. As the two of you slept together more and more, Dean inched closer and closer each night. One night, he was exhausted from a hunt, you were in bed looking at your laptop researching random lore to pass the time until they came back.

Dean closed your laptop, tossing it gently to the end of the bed. He crawled between your legs, laying his head on your lap. You smiled and looked down at him, running your fingers through his hair, his body melted into your lap.

"What's wrong, my love?" You cooed as you ran your fingertips down the back of his head to his neck

He mumbled incoherently against your lap. You asked him to repeat himself, but instead of responding, he simply started snoring. You smiled and continued to rub his back. Dean started to stir a bit, you helped him get onto his pillow. Once he got comfortable, his hand went straight for your wrist. You were confused at first, but you let it go.

You noticed Dean started to do it more and more. It started off as him just wanting to touch you, then it became a need. He needed to feel your heartbeat to fall asleep, he wanted to make sure you were still there with him, that you were real. He never told you that, you just sort of assumed. It became a nightly routine: the two of you would talk about your day, listen to him complain about Sam, and just be all lovey-dovey.

You turned Dean into a softie, he used to think he was all tough when in reality he was yearning to be loved and to let his soft side out for someone he loves. Dean loved the way you could easily calm him down when he was upset or pissed. No one has ever been able to do it as quickly as you do. It scared him at first, but he learned to love it.

Dean was getting ready for bed. He crawled in beside you and immediately grabbed your wrist, holding it against his cheek. You looked over at him and smiled, you weren't going to ask but you just needed to know.

"Babe, can I ask you something?" You watched as he opened one eye to look at you. "Why do you do that?"

"Do What?" He raised an eyebrow, propping himself up on his elbow.

"Hold my wrist." You looked down at your wrist, then back at Dean. "I don't want you to stop, I just wanna know why."

Dean sat up, crossing his legs together, he brought your wrist to his lips and placed a small kiss on it. He looked up at you and exhaled peacefully, a small smile forming on his lips.

"I do this because it helps me stay grounded, it helps me sleep. It shows me that this is real, and it's not some dream I'm in." He looked at Sam who was peacefully sleeping in the bed next to you.

"It makes me feel at peace knowing that you're right beside me, I love you, and I never want to be away from you." Dean placed another small kiss to your wrist, smiling against your skin.

"I love you too, baby." You leaned over and placed a soft kiss to his cheek

"Now, can we go to sleep? I am exhausted." He shot you a wink and laid back down, placing your wrist on his cheek once more.

You playfully rolled your eyes and laid down beside him, hearing what Dean said made you feel loved, it made you feel important. He made you feel needed. Dean never truly needed anyone, except for when it came to you.

A/N: This one is a little short, but i still hope you guys like it. if you want to be tagged in future fics comment here or send me a message. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. 🥰

Main Masterlist - Dean Winchester Masterlist

Taglist: @iwudbutnah @littlesoulshine @miss-marmalade @bettystonewell @cherryresidence @ambiguous-avery

[seungsoftly]

why so shy?

꒰੭ lee heeseung x fem. reader ꒰੭ genre: shortfic/fluff ꒰੭ wc: 1.07k ꒰੭ contains mentions of being anxious, light kissing

livi's note ✿ thank you guys so much for over a 150 notes on my first drabble and over 250 notes on my first request, not to mention for 30 followers! you guys have no idea how much that means to me, it just warms my heart that y'all enjoyed it! this is sort of inspired by heeseung in my drabble as sort of a continuation a couple of months later and for my moot @obseeung so i hope you shy hee enthusiasts enjoy!

divider credits to @toastray

in the short few months that your relationship had gone on for, heeseung had been nothing but the perfect gentleman.

every week, he’d ask you on a date somewhere new. sometimes it was a restaurant, sometimes it was just a walk somewhere, and most recently it had been to an arcade.

the both of you had played games to your heart’s content, and when you ran out of tokens, heeseung didn’t hesitate to offer you some of his so you could keep playing. it was so sweet of him. you’d never truly felt entirely touched by something that your ex had done for you, and here heeseung was, drawing all kinds of feelings from you when your relationship had just started.

and not to mention the fact that when you two were done and went to redeem your tickets, heeseung gave you all of his and whispered in your ear, “pick whatever you want sweetheart. i already got the pleasure of your company tonight.”

heeseung was just so perfect and sweet, but it was only at the end of these little dates, occasionally when he’d gather up the courage to say something romantic like that to you.

he just got so shy and so anxious about what you thought of him and that he might be making a fool of himself with every single word that came out of his mouth. god he just got so nervous that he was going to do something wrong and entirely screw up in front of you and absolutely ruin your relationship.

that was his never ending nightmare. him doing something that hurt you when he didn’t mean to and making you hate him for the rest of his life. 

this was probably the best relationship that heeseung had ever been in. you were just perfect and beautiful and so sweet, and he never wanted to let you go. you were so out of his league, and he was just amazed that you had said yes to him in the first place.

…

five months in, heeseung gave you a spare key to his apartment. when you’d protested, he only had one thing to say, albeit slightly mumbling it because he was still shy around you a little bit.

“if anyone could just walk into my apartment, i’d want it to be you.”

his statement made you blush, yet again touched by your romantic boyfriend. he was turning red too, ears flushed as his own thoughts were spiralling through his head, out of control. heeseung was once again shocked that you’d said yes to him.

and soon enough, this spare apartment key turned out to be a pretty good thing for your relationship…

…

the two of you had made plans for later that afternoon, and since it was only around noon, heeseung wasn’t expecting you to show up for at least a few more hours. you’d already told him a couple of days ago that you had class in the early afternoon that you couldn’t miss.

don’t get him wrong, he was very much looking forward to hanging out with you, but you still made him a little bit nervous, and that made him act much shyer than he did around his friends.

you absolutely adored how cute heeseung was when he was acting all shy around you, but you wished that he could break out of the little shell that he seemed to put himself in around you. you’d seen before how he acted around his friends, and you wished that you could have that heeseung to talk to as well as the polite gentleman that he already was around you.

so, you’d planned on catching him by surprise, coming over an hour earlier than you’d planned for your hangout at his apartment. and then it got even better. your afternoon class was surprisingly cancelled for that day, so you could head over even earlier.

soon enough, you were standing outside of heeseung’s door, sliding the key into the lock and turning the doorknob easily. and what you found beyond that door absolutely just melted your heart.

heeseung had music on, the volume quiet but still audible as he rushed around the room, picking up what seemed to be everything while muttering to himself, “i’ve got to make sure it looks nice for her.”

he hadn’t even noticed you standing in the doorway yet, and you were just frozen in place, touched in a way that nobody had ever done before. you thought he was sweet. no. he was incredible. heeseung is definitely a keeper, you thought to yourself.

“you’re so sweet hee!” the exclamation came out of your mouth before you could stop it. the only thing that was stopped was heeseung himself, frozen as he turned his head to look at you while carrying at least three blankets and two pillows as he was attempting to make his couch look slightly presentable at the least.

“oh i wasn’t…”

“i didn’t even think to call you, i’m so sorry i barged in here so early,” you chuckled nervously, hoping you really hadn’t disturbed him at a bad time.

“no, no y/n it’s okay… uh i was just tidying some things up to make the apartment better for when you came over,” heeseung mumbled, head ducked slightly out of bashfulness. he had certainly not been expecting you to come over this early.

“hee, why are you so shy around me?” you blurted out, not entirely thinking but wanting to know the answer.

his head popped up, eyes widening as he stuttered out a response.

“um, well i just want to be a good boyfriend ‘n all, and i just get nervous that i’m going to do something or say something wrong and it’s gonna mess our relationship up and hurt you…” he rambled on.

“i’m just gonna stop you right there handsome,” you smiled warmly, crossing the space between you two in a few quick steps before catching his face in your hands. “you’re just fine, and you’re not going to mess us up. just stop worrying about it, and let me see the real you. i’ve been wondering what he’s like.”

and before he could say anything in response, you closed the gap between your lips, pressing yours to his in a sweet kiss.

after a moment, you pulled away. “now how about we get rid of that shyness, shall we?”

© seungsoftly 2025 please do not copy, repost, or translate

this is a work of fiction and is not intended to depict any accurate representation of any members of enhypen. please do not take this as real.

[tucsonhorse]

I am autistic and I find that being precise is very important to me. With some people I will find myself doing things like sharing more detail about something someone is talking about or letting them know about a common misconception or similar and they seem to get really annoyed about it. And like I try to be nice about it and only correct the big things, but some people get mad if I say anything.

I don't think you're being a contrarian like your sibling, I've dealt with people like that before and it's annoying and in my experience most people avoid them, not to mention lots more people complain about it. I think these specific people are saying you're always picking a fight because they see anything other than complete agreement/acceptance of what they're saying as an argument. That's a common thing with people who are more authoritarian types, especially if they are dealing with someone that they think they do or should have authority over.

When it comes to talking a lot I see two possible reasons. First is anxiety. Autistics, especially late diagnosed autistics, are often misunderstood. So we develop a coping mechanism of trying to explain every nuance of what we mean and cover every possible misconception in order to avoid being misunderstood. This means we tend to go on at length (much like my reply here...), even more so if we're anxious or dealing with someone who has previously criticised or misunderstood us.

My second thought is if you're talking about a special interest. From the context it doesn't sound like that's what's happening in the situations you're talking about, especially since you don't want to be talking.

I can't tell you why your sibling is like this. I can tell you that my mom's whole family is like that and they all seem to enjoy "discussing" things with one another. I don't understand it and most of the rest of us hate when they do it, but my mom and certain of her siblings (and her father when he was alive) could argue for hours and clear out a whole house as the rest of us ran away from it.

To stop talking a lot if it's from anxiety takes practice. You start by trying to recognize when you're doing it, which can be tough. Once you're recognizing it you can work on stopping yourself when you notice it happening and work on becoming comfortable with the idea of being misunderstood so that you don't feel the urge to explain so in depth.

As for telling the difference between a conversation and an argument, that's a lot harder in my experience. Some of it is recognizing tone of voice and if the person's voice is getting tight/tense then I assume that they think I'm arguing (this requires being able to perceive tone of voice). If that happens I will stop adding information or disagreeing with them at all and usually try to exit the conversation as soon as I can. If I still want/need to add information I'll try starting with phrases like "I totally agree, and also..." to make it explicit that I am agreeing with them rather than arguing. And with people who seem to always think I'm arguing I will basically stop sharing any information with them. When I feel the urge to correct them or add context I'll ask myself if their lack of knowledge/incorrect knowledge is or is likely to cause genuine harm to themself or others and if the answer is no then I just don't say anything.

Question that I suspect is autism related

I have, on more than one occasion over multiple decades, been told that I “need to have the last word” and that I “have a response for everything”.

Additionally and in a similar vein, I’ve been told that “everything is an argument with you” and I “always have to say something”.

When I was a little kid I was bad at conversations. People said stuff I had no opinion on or didn’t need follow-up and so I wouldn’t answer and they’d get bored. And eventually through trial and error I figured out that if someone said something to me, all I had to do was say something related back, and the interaction could go on as long as it needed to.

But then as a teen- and now as an adult- a number of people (mostly people I’ve found to be very delicate and particular about things in a sort of need-to-be-in-control authoritarian way) have expressed the identical observation about how I naturally try to converse, and I’m not sure what to do about it.

And the thing is, I have a sibling that talks like this too. We bicker all the time. He changes his own opinions seemingly at a whim for the purpose of being contrary, and it’s impossible to make a statement or observation out loud without him contradicting it, and even when he is demonstrably, factually wrong about something, he will dig his heels into the dirt and defend his stance to the grave.

And like. I hear myself responding, or adding on to people’s comments, but I don’t hear the ‘arguing’ they describe, or the contrarian habits of my sibling. Even when I’m paying attention and being bery careful not to follow up too much or speak too often or disagree or correct something that isn’t important, I get called out for “picking a fight”. They say something, I answer, they reply, I continue, then seemingly out of nowhere they snap. I think everything’s fine until suddenly it isn’t.

And so I guess my question is, how can you tell if you’re a contrary sort of person? How can you tell when to respond or follow up on a person’s statement and how do you know when to leave it in silence? Does everybody see me this way, and is it only people who are already short-tempered who are willing to say it?

I honestly don’t really have that much to say, and half the time I don’t even really want to talk at all, but I’ve been told countless times that I “just seem to like the sound of your own voice” and have to just be “tuned out after a while”. So if it isn’t necessary and I don’t even want to, why am I doing it?

Is there a reason I’m like this? Why is my sibling like this? How do I stop talking when there’s nothing to say, and how can I tell the difference between a conversation and an argument before the other person visibly snaps?

I’m a full grown adult

[x--sinner--x]

The Perfect Gift for Loneliness

My life has become very lonely recently. Usually I don't worry about it too much, but this thought popped into my mind due to all the alcohol I had consumed so far.

I was at the local bar, trying to put this feeling at ease and go on with my life. And that's when I heard it. The sound of glass breaking. A woman who appeared to be so drunk, probably even high on something had dropped her fresh wine glass and got it all over her clothes.

In her state, she was even worse than me as she couldn't even form complete words. I was drunk but sober enough to move, but her movements were topsy turvy and the words were completely slurred.

As no one stepped up to help her amongst the crowd of prying eyes, it dawned on me to help her. I took her to one of the private rooms which had a toilet to help her with her clothes. She had worn a one-sleeve bodycon dress which hugged her body tightly and her delicate shoulder was on display. The wine had stained her dress, showing a brown patch on her blue outfit.

In her current state, she was of no help. I tried to undress her and I immediately noticed she had no bra on. Her tits were so round and perfect, I couldn't help but see it every 2 seconds even though I tried to be a gentleman. As I lowered her dress, another surprise was in store for me. No panties either, and a trimmed bush in the shape of a downward triangle which stopped at her clit. She also had a cute tattoo. But in my eyes, she was way out of my league. Heck, her perfume was even more intoxicating.

She also owned a small purse, which I quickly went through to see if she had any money to get a ride back home. Guess what, it was empty. I assumed she spent everything on the bar. But I found something else. Her stash of weed she had smoked, all rolled up.

It piqued my interest because I had never smoked weed before. I prayed she wouldn't mind and I lit one up with the lighter I had and let out a puff. I coughed a little because I inhaled too much, but holy hell it was strong. I couldn't stop and after a few minutes the high hit me, and it changed my complete perspective. My surroundings looked straight out of my sex fantasy, with a bed and everything. And she looked so beautiful naked, like an object of my desire.

The high had definitely given me a boner, and her perfume wasn't helping either. I quickly discarded my clothes and went straight to her. There was a mirror on a table leaning against the wall, and I pushed her face against the mirror and placed one of her legs on the table to give me access. Clearly she didn't mind in her state. I spit some saliva on my hand and rubbed it on my cock, and rammed it in her opening. She was already wet because of the high. And oh my fucking god, this felt even better than the weed.

The feeling of loneliness I was feeling was completely neutralized by the weed, and her pussy was only helping my case. I kept thrusting my dick inside her, hard and fast, and eventually I was able to extract feeble moans from her. Her pussy fit my cock like a glove, or was it the weed making me feel this way? I still had the weed in one of my hands, which I occasionally took a puff of while I thrust into her holding on to her hips to get my cock in deeper.

The weed was giving me ideas, and was making me feral too. I yanked her by the hair and moved us both into the bed that came with the room. I pushed her face into the mattress and got her to arch her ass up while she was on her knees, brought her hands behind her which I held on to, fucking her from behind. She was so out of it, that she had turned off her mind. It was just her body responding to my thrusts, that caused her to moan in pleasure. She had started screaming and trying to mouth the words 'harder' but it was still slurred but I could make out.

The weed eventually ran out, and I pressed it on her ass until the fire went out, and she let out a cute moan from it. But the high wasn't coming off yet for me, so I kept going because it felt so good. I never wanted to pull my cock out of this perfect hole. I fucked her pronebone, biting into her earlobe and grunting from how good it felt.

I spanked her ass until it was blood shot red. I loved hurting her. She couldn't feel the pain in her state even if she wanted to. I made her look and feel so filthy, running my tongue over every single inch of her skin, and leaving various marks on various parts of her body like a madman. Even though the weed ran out, this was giving me a different sort of an high.

At some point, she had passed out, as I continued to thrust inside her. I couldn't feel any sort of a response from her as I mindlessly pushed my cock in. I didn't know how long had passed since I fucked her, but I assume it must have been hours. The bar was closing, so I heard a knock on the door to leave. I don't know how I got the strength, but I put her on my shoulder, took her belongings and somehow made it to my car. I'm not supposed to be driving in this condition, but I didn't have a choice.

I drove mindlessly, without a destination in sight. I didn't feel like going home, so I was wandering around until I came to a sudden halt right in front of a tree. Thank god, I didn't crash my car. But I had come to a public park. It must be really early morning so there weren't many people in the park. I felt around her purse again and found the last stash and I had to take another dip.

I saw her naked body in the passenger seat in the front and I clicked some pictures of her passed out self from within the car. I captured as much of her from as many angles as i could. I spread her legs apart and captured some pics where my fingers were spreading her pussy lips apart. I took some pictures of my tongue on her nipples, and some pictures with my cock thrusting down her mouth. That was hard to take.

The high was kicking in again, and I didn't care about the surroundings. The sun was coming back up and so was the crowd, people going for a casual stroll in the park. I had lowered the seat of my own car so that it leans all the way back and started raping her body the second time, just as feral as I was in the bar. I rolled down the windows to get some air in, and my grunts and thrusts got louder.

This piqued the interest of the people going by and before I knew it, my whole car had been surrounded. I couldn't make any sense of the situation because of the euphoria I was in. I could see the men with their dicks out, jerking off with one hand while holding a phone in the other. They were shouting all sorts of things to do to her passed out body, throwing money inside the car as if I was giving them a show. Which I definitely was by the way. There were some women in the crowd, having their hands inside their panties touching themselves and groping their tits to the scene unfolding before them.

All the commotion seemed to have woken her up, and she was starting to feel all her senses come back, but they were quickly met with the feeling of my cock thrusting inside her in regular intervals. All the marks I left on her body, she could feel it all burning her skin. She could see her own legs spread wide and tits flailing in the back of this dingy car, and flashes of light from the phones that people were holding, shots of cum raining inside the car which were covering her face.

She screamed her lungs off, after feeling all these different sensations all at once, but that soon faded away as she understood the predicament she was in, and her screams eventually turned to moans, and her slurred speech was removed, and I could hear her clearly, asking for me to go harder, faster and deeper because clearly she also felt good from all this chaos.

Everyone was eager to see if I would let them use her, but unfortunately, her pussy was mine. And I was sure her pussy has been moulded to the shape of my dick because of how tight it is.

By the time the second high, came on down, my car was an absolute mess. It was littered with money and pennies and bits of cum from people who jerked through the windows, and it was all on the sides of the car as well. She was begging to be let out of the car, despite how cute she looked covered in random strangers cum all over her, my cum leaking from her pussy all naked. I rode off into the distance, with my new found pet, the cure to my loneliness.

Truly a godsend gift.

[garbinge]

SHOULD'VE BEEN (2/?)

Andrew Pope Cody x F!Reader Deran Cody & Platonic!Reader Barry 'Baz' Blackwell & Sister!Reader // Word Count: 23.6k (I KNOW OKAY I KNOW) Summary: As you navigate Baz's death, your mind finds itself searching the past for ways to cope. Previous Part Reader is Baz's biological sister. With that being said, I left out physical descriptions outside of a scar on reader's face from backstory. If you catch any, always feel free to let me know and I'll edit! Reader also is (was) a doctor. Due to this, reader has a nickname which is used throughout the fic. In this fic - Pope did not kill Cath. Also, I made all the Cody boys + Baz + Reader closer in age than in canon. Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Canon-level violence. Canonic character death. Mentions of being drugged/slipped something. Hazing. Bullying. Grief. Mourning. Loss of a sibling. Blood. Telling a child about parental death. Mentions of domestic abuse, Semi-graphic descriptions of wounds + violence. Psychologically difficult themes, yearning, angst, hurt/comfort. No use of y/n. SMUT with main character, insinuated smut with a non-canon character. Not really a happy ending? A/N: Okay so I will be writing another part that i already have a bunch of ideas on LOLOL. I just... live for these characters in this world. The dynamics are so ajkfhglkjdfhbljkhgka!!!!!

Present Day - Baz’s Death - 8:07AM

This is Tri-City Medical, we’re calling because you’re the emergency contact listed in Mr. Barry Blackwell’s phone. He was brought into the emergency department about 10 minutes ago. If you could just give us a call back as soon as possible, thank you. 

You didn’t call back, just rushed to the hospital. Traffic laws be damned, ran through traffic lights, through stop signs, you left your bike parked in between two cars, not even in a spot, before you were rushing into the ER. 

They brought you to where Baz was, he was on the operating table, you stood in the observation deck. Your arms across your chest, your left hand resting against your mouth, gnawing at your finger as you watched them insert tubes, IVs, blood bags. 

“Did you check if the bullets went through and through? If they did they should insert two chest tubes,” you turned to the doctor who was standing in the second aisle of the room. 

There was no answer, they just looked up from their notes at you and then back on the screen that was showing the internal cameras searching for the bullets. 

“They could have moved, if they hit his lungs they could have gone anywhere in his abdomen, they should be checking his abdomen!” You turned again, looking at the doctor who this time didn’t even look up from their notebook. “Are you listening to me?!” You screamed at them this time, tears pouring from your eyes before they jumped back to the window. Your brother, completely unconscious, tube in his mouth, cut open like a chicken on the operating table. 

“C’mon Baz,” you mumbled through a panicked breath. “C’mon.” 

“Ms. Blackwell, we’re gonna need to ask you to step into the waiting room.” Someone opened the door to the observation room and spoke low to you. 

“No, no, I’m watching.” You pointed at the surgery.

“You really shouldn’t have been here in the first place,” her voice was still low and polite, but you saw her eyes jump to the other doctor in the room. 

“No, it’s okay. See, I used to be a doctor, I–I don’t practice anymore, I can’t–but they brought me here because I knew–I know what’s happening.” You were fumbling, stuttering over your thoughts. 

“Ms. Blackwell,” the nurse opened the door wider. 

It was then that you heard the monitors beeping. Baz’s heart rate dropping, it wasn’t crashing just yet, but you felt your gut twist. “No, no, Baz c’mon. Pull it together. Pull it fucking together.” You spoke through gritted teeth. 

Before anything else could happen, there was a hand on your arm, pulling you back. You fought it, thrashed against it a little. “Stop, no, stop, that’s my brother, he’s my brother. I’m a doctor!”

As you sat in the waiting room, tears stained down your face along with mascara, your leg shaking in nerves, you kept gnawing at your finger. You weren’t sure if you thought about it, or if your mind was just on auto-pilot but you had your phone in your hand, the voicemail transcript was the first thing you saw as you unlocked it. The lump in your throat grovelled as the words sat in your head. The worry next to it knowing Baz was in this same building on the last thread of life. 

Without a second thought, your phone was ringing and you held it to your ear. You heard the phone pick up and before the other person could answer you spoke through cries. 

“Pope?” 

“What’s wrong?” His voice was littered with concern. 

“I need you.” 

That’s how you wished it went. That whole scenario was how you imagined it went as the police officers informed you and Pope of Baz’s death as you stood in the driveway at Smurf’s house. 

Pope’s eyes were glued to yours as the officer spoke, yours were—well you weren’t sure, you were going into an alternate world as they spoke. 

You wished you were there. You wished you picked up the damn fucking phone when the hospital called. You weren’t sure why you wanted that to be how it happened. It wouldn’t have changed anything, Baz would still be dead. 

Your brother would still be dead. 

Turning to Pope, your eyes glossed over, you extended your hand out to grab his arm, steadying yourself from the news. Through a wobbly sound that came out of your throat before words, you swallowed and gave it another shot but failed again. This time your head sent you back to a different time. Maybe not a better one, but a different one. 

2001 - College Parties Suck

Your head was spinning, and not like when you’d smoke a little too much and mix it with a little too much alcohol. This was different. This was scary. You pulled your phone out, hitting the first speed dial you had programmed in your phone. Baz. It rang 4 times before it went to voicemail. You called 5 more times, each time there was no answer. 

You moved onto the next speed dial in your phone. Pope. You tried him once, you felt your eyes getting heavier when you heard the beep to leave a voicemail. “Pope, it’s me, I uh, I don’t feel so good. I came to this party on campus, I just– I need a ride, I think. Yea, I need a ride.” 

The phone dropped into your lap and as you looked down you realized you didn’t have your shirt on, just your black bra and belt that was still wrapped around your jeans. 

You picked up the phone, moving to the next speed dial, you skipped Craig, he never answered and even in your altered state, you knew better than to even try. That's when you called Deran. 

“Hey Doc,” he answered the phone after 2 rings. 

“I uh, need a ride,” that’s when you saw the writing on your stomach. “I was at a party on campus,” you couldn’t quite make out the writing just yet, just black ink all over your abdomen. “I think someone put something in my drink.” 

“Where the fuck are you?” You heard him scrambling on the other line, the jingle of his keys, the muffling in the speaker as he moved around swiftly wherever he was. 

“I– I don’t know. There’s a statue. I’m covered in ink, I don’t have my shirt.” The panic started growing in your gut. “Deran, I’m scared.” 

“Go somewhere public, right now, with people. I’m driving to campus now.” His voice wasn’t panicked, just direct. 

“They wrote on me, I don’t think I should be in public.” You realized now what your stomach said. Cody train station. With an arrow pointing down. “Deran, I feel sick, I feel tired.” 

“I’m like 5 minutes away, try and stay awake.” Deran pressed on the gas with force, the engine loud enough to wake you up just slightly. But not enough for the full 5 minutes. He stayed on the phone with you even when you went silent. When you mentioned a statue, he knew pretty much exactly where you were and it didn’t take him long to find you.  

“Get the fuck away from her.” Deran’s voice made your eyelids open, you saw a few people around you, none of them familiar. 

“Deran?” You squinted hard and mumbled the youngest Cody’s name. 

There was some commotion, you weren’t sure if it was just shoves or punches but the next time you opened your eyes the crowd was gone and you saw the familiar long haired blonde. 

“Deran?” You asked his name again and felt the comfort the minute you heard his voice close. 

“It’s Deran. I’m taking you home.” He pulled you up off the ground. That’s when he saw the writing on you. 

“I’m gonna be sick,” you rolled over and began to upchuck. 

“Let it out, that’s good, maybe you’ll throw it up.” Deran was rubbing your back referring to whatever was slipped in your drink. 

It took 20 minutes, but Deran eventually got you in his car and drove you back to the house. It was there that you passed out next to him on the couch in the living room. You were lucky it was a quiet night at the Cody house. He put a pillow down for you to rest your head on, occasionally scratching the top of your head with his fingers to make sure you didn’t fall asleep completely, he wasn’t sure if that was just something you did with concussions or being drugged too so he figured there couldn’t be any harm in it to play it safe.

He didn’t bother trying to remove the marker from you, just gave you one of his cut offs to keep you semi-warm in the car. You made it very clear that you wanted to lie down when you got back to Smurf’s house so he wasn’t going to bother with clothes or cleaning you up until you were more alert. 

The two of you were watching pre-recorded surf competitions, every so often you’d fade into some version of sleep and wake up when you felt Deran scratch at your head. 

“College parties suck,” you mumbled the words while a commercial played on the TV. Then you tried to tap Deran’s side. “Thank you.” 

Before Deran could answer, the sliding door slammed, alerting both of you. Pope was running down the hallway from where your bedroom was, his eyes scanning around the house until they landed on you. 

His eyes then moved to Deran. “What happened, why is she asleep on the couch?” Pope pointed and was waiting frantically for an answer. 

“She was at a party, got drugged, they did some twisted ass shit to her.” Deran’s voice was low, not trying to startle you. 

“What did they do to her?” Pope’s jaw was clenched as he asked, his mind going to a million different places, each one making him angrier than the last. 

“They wrote on her stomach, she has marks on her arms so I think they tied her up for a bit, so people could see her, when I got there she wasn’t at the party, she was on the road, had a group around her but I don’t think anyone you know—touched her.” Deran swallowed hard, he felt a little below water with all of this. 

“Is she going to be okay?” Pope was wracking his brain around seeing you like this, so out of it. Not in a sleepy way but in a fucked up way. He’d seen you drunk, he’d seen you high, this was nothing like that. 

“Pope?” You groggily lifted your head, as you moved, the cutoff tank rode up and he saw the writing. 

Pope saw red. His eyes felt hot, his fists balled up, his jaw wasn’t just clenched anymore but wound so tight he could taste the iron from how hard he was biting down. He knew exactly who did this. It was the same thing that frat asshole Shotgun Shep had said to you that night he got rocked by Craig and caused a scene with you last summer. 

“If you ever need me, you keep calling me, you hear me!?” Pope was yelling at you now. 

“I called Baz.” Your voice was a little whiny. 

“I’m talking about me! ME.” Pope raised his voice, his finger slamming into his chest. 

That’s when Deran sat up a little bit. “Dude, she’s out of it, chill.” 

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled the words, the guilt starting to rack in your mind. “Where’s Baz?” 

“I don’t know.” Pope answered, his voice still loud but less accusatory now, his own guilt in yelling at you after he saw Deran’s response.

“Where’s my brother?” You now had the same tone as he did earlier. Demanding and raised. “Where’s BAZ?!” This time your voice gripped to the back of your throat as you yelled.

“What’s up?” Baz walked in from the kitchen, beer in hand, casual as ever. 

“I needed you.” You weren't looking at him, your words were slurred still. You felt your heart ache. It was one thing to experience him blowing you off, barely talking to you—you know, losing your friendship with your older brother. But this felt worse than all of that. You needed him. You needed your older brother. All the times he needed you, you’d be there, and he couldn’t reciprocate that anymore? 

“What’s her deal?” Baz was chuckling as he raised his beer bottle to his lips. 

“She was roofied.” Deran’s voice was firm, 

“No shit,” he let out a scoff, one that would have earned him a fist to the face from you if you were of sound mind. 

“It was Rick Shepherd.” Pope spoke up now, the anger in his voice was what you were feeling in your mind. 

“Shotgun Shep?” Deran was looking at Pope with a frown, trying to understand how he knew that information. 

“He called her that the last time he was here, at the summer party, Cody train station,” Pope pointed to your stomach, at the writing. 

“So we gonna beat the guy up?” Baz extended his hands out and shook his head, a small shrug left his shoulders too, like he was asking if they should order chinese or pizza. Not something this serious. 

Pope’s eyes practically burned into Baz’s skull, the anger pouring out of them. 

“Taking that as a yes we’re beating the guy up.” Baz dipped his head from side to side before finishing the beer off and tossing the empty bottle on the couch. He began walking down the stairs into the living room, nonchalantly headed towards you. As he leaned over your body, Deran moved his arm so that Baz could replace it with his, pressing the pillow down into the cushions, his head dipped down and he placed a peck on your head. “Don’t worry, Dockie. We’re gonna beat the guy up.” 

“Go fuck yourself.” You turned over, despite the amount of dizziness and nausea you felt, you didn’t want to even look at Baz. 

“Love you too,” his laugh echoed against the kitchen cabinets, he had already turned to leave with Pope. 

“Did I ruin your night?” You mumbled knowing it was just you and Deran in the living room now. Your face squished against the couch cushion. 

“No, you saved me from getting head from Jonesy Bradford,” Deran chuckled, putting his arm back against the pillow that separated you too. He slouched down a little more, that way he was closer to your face and could whisper a bit.  

“Heads head,” you shrugged and then lifted up a little in question, “Jonesy Bradford is gay?” 

“Very.” Deran laughed, eyebrows raised as he smirked. 

Shaking your head, you dropped it down back into the cushion, letting the sound of the surf competitions fill the room until you fully comprehended what Deran said. 

“You shouldn’t get head from Jonesy Bradford.” Your voice was muffled by the couch cushion, but Deran heard you perfectly fine.

“My point,” Deran let out a breathy laugh and scratched your head again, this time not to wake you up but to be playful. 

“Everyone thinks I’m a whore,” you enunciated the last word with a sigh, it sounded a little jokey but you did mean it.

“We don’t think you’re a whore,” Deran was trying to find some way to cheer you up from whatever funk was happening in your head. 

“Well no, I am a whore. Just not the Cody whore.” Your voice was muffled against the cushion. Deran knew what you meant, Deran might’ve been the only one who knew what you meant. He was the only one who knew how you felt about Pope, and you were the only one who knew how he felt about guys. Not that you two ever labeled your friendship, but for all intents and purposes, Deran was your closest friend. Sure, him and Craig were like brothers to you, but you had a friend in Deran that you didn’t have in anyone else. 

“You can’t tell Smurf,” you said seriously to Deran. 

“I won’t tell Smurf,” he replied with ease. 

“Baz will tell Smurf,” you scoffed. 

“I’ll tell him not to,” Deran always tried to find an answer for you.

“He isn’t going to listen. He never listens.” And you always found something to rebuttal his responses. “It’s fine, I stole Shep’s wallet before things went to shit,” you readjusted to pull the wallet out of the back pocket of your jeans. “Only ninety bucks in his wallet but I found a lock code. He’s in pharmacy school, I think the code is to his locker in the lab, could nab a good amount of shit we could fence.”

Deran laughed, his head shaking as he did. “That’ll save your ass if Baz blabs.” 

“When,” you corrected him. 

Suddenly, you heard footsteps coming back into the living room and Pope’s voice was loud again, like he was just as frustrated if not more than just a few moments ago. 

“If you need me, you call me 15 times until I answer, okay?!” There was a slight grovel in his voice. He had his keys gripped tight in his hand, he was getting ready to go to UCSD with Baz but for some reason came back to yell some more.  “I mean it, all you need to say is I need you and I’ll be there, you hear me?!” 

“I hear you,” your face got solemn as you looked at him, he regretted yelling again, it was clear on his face as he nodded, his eyes barely able to meet yours. “I’ll tell you I need you.” 

Present Day - Baz’s Death - 8:10AM

One last shot. You were going to give speaking one last shot as you gripped Pope’s arm. The police officers were still going through their spiel of what went down. One more wobbly sound escaped from your throat followed by a whispered plea. 

“Pope, I need you.” 

“Yea, I’m here.” 

Present Day - Baz’s Death - 8:39AM

You were horizontal on the back seats of the Dodge Ram. The numbness fully took over your body as you stared at the dash. Eyes focused on the radio, the controls for the vents, but you weren’t really retaining any of that information. Nor the conversation that Nicky and Pope were having, which was less of a conversation and more just Pope muttering under his breath as they looked for J on The Strand. 

Usually the motion of the car would turn your stomach laid up in the back seat like this, but you were so out of it, you couldn’t tell. As the car came to an abrupt stop, you moved slightly, Nicky grabbing your feet to hold you steady on the backseat. Pope’s eyes moved to make sure you were okay before they leaned over the console to call out to J. 

“Put her seat belt on,” he demanded back to Nicky who was quick to do it, she said something to you but you weren’t really paying attention, just focused on the middle console. “Get in!” Pope was now yelling to J who opened the door with haste and confusion. “Baz is dead.” 

Three words. That pulled your eyes off the middle console and back to two people in the front of the truck. 

“What?” J wasn’t yelling, but the shock was there in his tone, plastered on his face. As he hopped into the truck his head turned to see you horizontal in the back. “What happened?” 

No one answered him. 

He was still looking at you with sympathy, racking his mind around the information but also genuinely concerned about you. “Do you need anything?” 

2016 - Homecoming (Pilot) 

“How many times have I told you guys, bullets are the hardest to fucking treat,” your head was down as you were texting on your phone, messenger bag draped over your shoulder. “Don’t get–”

“Don’t get shot.” The trio of men repeated as they cut you off and held Craig on the pool table. 

Almost immediately you heard the familiar sound of a voice you hadn’t heard in years. As you laid eyes on the men gathered around the pool table, you saw Craig who was dripping sweat, bleeding from his shoulder, quick breaths. Then there was your brother, who was holding Craig down as he attempted to do something with the bullet wound in Craig’s shoulder, he had a shit-eating grin on his face like he was living for this moment. But then your eyes connected with the man you hadn’t seen in years, his hands holding Craig on the opposite side, no smile, just a piercing glare. The voice you’d recognize anywhere. Pope. 

 “Well at least you know,” you stayed frozen staring at him, not realizing he had gotten out of prison. I mean how could you? He stopped letting you visit, he stopped writing. He looked good, he looked healthy, his hair was cut like shit, those prison haircuts never suited him. 

“Ahhh!” Craig screamed and it brought your eyes back to the situation unfolding. 

“Is it through and through?” You shook your head and moved to replace Baz and help Craig. “Jesus Christ, you started to cauterize it, already!?”

“We pulled the bullet out, it needed to be sealed!” Baz raised his hands. 

“If you aren’t going to listen to me when I tell you to not get shot, then at least listen to when I tell you to leave it be until I get here.” You slammed your bag on the table looking for the kit of surgical tools you had stolen from the hospital inventory all those years ago. 

“Sorry, Doc.” Craig looked up through his sweat beaded brows at you. 

“Don’t say sorry to me, Baz should say it to you, this is going to hurt 10x more now.” You dropped the tools down and grabbed a saline bottle and poured it onto a fresh package of gauze. “I have to debride it, I’m going to give you something for the pain and I’m gonna ask Pope to hold this against the wound for like 15 minutes, soften the tissue. Then I’m gonna have to pick at it,” you handed the gauze to Pope who hadn’t taken his eyes off you since you stepped in the room, but instead of looking at him you just went into your bag and grabbed a small bottle of morphine and a syringe to give it to him. “This isn’t a lot but it’s enough,” your eyes jumped to Craig’s who smirked, a slight chuckle escaping his mouth. 

“C’mon Doc, I got shot.” 

“And I guarantee you’re already a few lines and shots in,” your eyes were trained on the syringe pushing a little liquid out the needle. “10 milligrams.” 

He sighed with an eye roll as you placed it into his arm. “I’ll be back in 15, where’s Deran?” Your eyes moved anywhere but Pope’s. 

“He’s in the living room with Smurf, nursing his own wounds,” Baz gave you a look, one that you knew meant he fucked up the job tonight and was living with that regret. You knew better than to interrupt Smurf’s coddling so you just raised your eyebrows at your brother. Before either of you could say anything, there was a creak on the stairs that led to the hall right behind the kitchen and you both turned your heads. 

You recognized him, Julia’s kid, Josh. Your eyes went wide and then they fell to Baz who also looked a little thrown off, but less thrown than you. Everyone just stayed frozen, J’s eyes jumping from all of yours to Craig who was just slightly less loud than before, the morphine clearly doing its work. 

“Josh, right?” You broke the silence. 

“Yea, J.” You could tell he was trying to read you. 

“J,” you corrected yourself before turning to look at Pope to make sure he was putting the gauze on the wound for Craig. “Apparently it’s the night for old faces to turn up.” Looking back at J you sighed. “I’m–”

“Aunt Doc.” He finished your sentence for you. 

“Yea, Aunt Doc. You can just call me Doc, though.” You weren’t going to make a kid who didn’t know you get caught up in mannerisms. He didn’t owe you that.

It was then that you realized he probably knew you visited Julia, never for long, just enough to drop food off, say hi, you never saw him though, just Julia. You knew he was Baz’s kid, or that the chance he was was pretty high. 

“Is your mom here?” You were crossing your arms, a little shocked to see the kid all grown up and here at Smurf’s place. 

“My mom’s dead–she OD’d.” J said it with no emotion. 

Your head snapped to Baz who had his hand behind his neck, knowing you were going to ring him out for not telling you and then to Julia’s twin—Pope, for his response, but all he did was stare.

“Uh, I’m so sorry I had no idea, uhm–” you weren’t sure what to say right now, your head was going a mile a minute, trying to wrap itself around the fact that Pope was back, Julia was gone, and J seemed to be staying here now. 

“I’m gonna go to bed, kind of tired.” J pointed over his shoulder before retreating down the hall. 

“I’m away for 3 days and everything fucking happens,” You mumbled, turning around, you practically ripped the gauze out of Pope’s hand to see how the tissue on Craig’s wound was softening. “Needs more time.” You didn’t even bother to look at Pope to grab the gauze back, just turned back around towards the kitchen, your shoulder bumping into Baz’s as you did. 

“Dockie,” Baz’s head fell back in slight annoyance. 

You ignored him going into the fridge to act like you were busy doing something but it was just a mindless activity. 

“Dockie,” Baz called you again. 

“What?!” You hissed the word and slammed the fridge, hard enough that it bounced wide open again. “What excuse are you going to force me to fucking believe this time?” 

“It’s no excuse,” Baz was pleading. 

“I’m away dealing with your shit,” you pushed your finger into his abdomen, “and you can’t even fucking call me to tell me Pope got out? That Julia fucking died and her kid is fucking living here?” 

“You went to Mexico for your own shit,” Baz tried to correct you. 

Your eyes went wide. “My own shit,” you let your head fall back with a laugh. “Here’s the fucking note from your fucking mistress, and the gift you wanted me to give her fucking kid went over well,” you pulled the note from Lucy out and slammed it against Baz’s chest. 

“You went down there for your own stockpile of supplies, I just asked you for a favor,” Baz was being a shit right now. 

“Well now I’m asking you for one, keep me in the loop.” Your eyes glared into him. 

“I was going to tell you, but then Craig got shot.” There it was, Baz’s excuse. Although, it wasn’t necessarily an excuse, it wasn’t a lie. Just a sorry form of the truth. 

“I used to wish you’d just tell me the truth, but now I think it was better when you’d respect me enough to come up with some story why you’d treat me like this.” Your head was shaking in anger. 

“You ever think the reason you’re out of the loop sometimes is because you just bitch and whine, bitch and whine.” Baz’s voice barked back at you, still at a hushed tone. 

“Go play in traffic,” you spat back at him. 

“Fine—you first, I’ll bring the snacks.” He smiled sarcastically. 

“I’ll bring Lucy, that way you aren’t lonely in hell.” It was a typical fight between you two. You’d both say something fucked up, but nothing that was too harsh or heartbreaking. The real heartbreaking matter was that your relationship had gotten to this point to begin with. 

“Don’t do that,” Baz shook his head and slammed the fridge closed behind you. 

“Do what?” You made a face, scrunching your nose up and frowning. 

“Act like you don’t want me here, like you wouldn’t be completely devastated if I was dead.” That line made you freeze. You’d normally go toe to toe with Baz in a verbal fight anyday. Quick responses, even faster reaction times when he’d hit you with unexpected words. But not this time. 

You stared at him, your eyes burning into his and you realized he wasn’t just fighting with you, he was being serious. 

There was a rebuttal on your tongue. I lived without the other Blackwell man in my life, I’d do it again no issue. Dead or deadbeat. I’ll bring you beer and cat food too—make it real full circle. But you knew that was crossing a line, and whether he crossed them with you wasn’t on you. This was. 

“Just…tell me shit.” You dropped your eyes to the floor. “I don’t like being surprised.” 

“Pope’s home, Julia OD’d, J’s living at Smurfs.” Baz gripped your shoulder and shook it, his way of making it up to you. It held no weight, it was the easy way out. “I was going to call you, I promise. And thank you for stopping by Lucy’s, I know you hate it, I know you hate me for it, but I appreciate it, and you.” 

It was just words. You knew they were just words. 

“When did Pope get home?” You whispered it, knowing he probably heard the entire conversation up to this point. 

“Yesterday,” Baz dropped his head to look at you. “You’re not still…?” He didn’t need to finish the sentence for you to understand what he was saying. 

“I never was,” your eyes flew up. “What about you, Julia’s dead? How are you with all that? J?” 

“It’s Smurf’s problem, not mine.” Baz’s eyes did what yours just did.

“Alright then.” You nodded, arms crossed now. 

“Alright then.” He matched your stance. 

That was the end of that conversation, you moved back to the dining room to pick tissue from Craig. Pope stayed there the whole time, eyes on you saying no words. But you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. Not once. Your eyes stayed trained on Craig’s wound for the full 43 minutes you picked dead and soon to be infected tissue off him. 

As you inserted an IV into his arm, you dropped the bag into Pope’s hand, still keeping your eyes anywhere but his. “He needs to be on an IV for 6 hours, when it runs out, have Baz find me and I’ll set up a new one.” You didn’t wait for him to respond, just grabbed your bag and moved down the hallway behind the kitchen, the longer way to your room but the quickest way away from Pope. 

It was there that you saw J sitting up on the bed in what used to be Pope’s old room. You stopped and looked at him, he looked like Baz, and everyone just ignored it. Without a second thought, you walked into the small patio and then into his room. 

“Do you need anything?” You said it following a soft knock on the glass door. “I’ve been away otherwise I would have been here sooner.” It was a wimpy excuse, but it was the truth, and despite your argument being completely the opposite to Baz just moments earlier, if he had started with wimpy truths from the jump, maybe you’d be somewhere different now.

“I heard,” J pointed to the kitchen nonchalantly. 

Your eyes looked back and realized both doors had been wide open and he heard your fight with Baz. 

With a nod, you exhaled and looked back at the young kid. “I’m not sure how much you’ve heard since you’ve been here—”

“I’m not gonna say anything.” He cut you off. 

“No, no, I–” You shook your head and moved to sit next to him on the mattress. “That’s not what I was saying. I just mean…” you searched your mind for the right words. “Being here is a game. One that you have to play to learn.” 

“You used to come by, give my mom meds, bring us food,” J didn’t seem to care about your words right now. 

“Yea, I did. I should’ve done more. But that’s my guilt to live with, not yours,” instinctually you wanted to tap his leg but you knew you were nowhere near that point with the kid yet so you just shook your head and moved on. “Here, take these,” you leaned down to pull a few boxes out of your messenger bag and handed them to him. “It’s narcan, I give a few boxes every so often to the guys too. Keep them on you, in case.” 

“You used to give them to my mom,” J was staring at the 5 boxes of narcan, they weren’t cheap off-brand meds, they were the name brand hospital grade. 

“Yea,” you looked down at the ground again thinking back to the boxes you’d hide below a foil container of food, just so she’d have them and not argue with you on it. Lot of good that did. “Look, I play the game, but not with everyone. This is my way of saying, I’m here for whatever you need. If you’re hurt, if you need to talk, I’m here. You’re my…nephew.” It was genuine, just like when you’d sneak away to visit Julia.

“My mom said you were like a sister to her,” you could hear the hesitation in his voice. 

“Yea,” although that’s not what you meant in calling him your nephew, but you weren’t an idiot, there was too much going on to open that box of worms right now. “I wish I did more for her.” 

“You did more than anyone else.” He finally looked at you, like he was letting you off the hook in a way. It wasn’t going to be that easy, but you did appreciate it. 

Standing up off the bed, you smiled at him. “I’ll be in the back room of the house, my old bedroom. But I have a place on The Strand,I’ll get your number from one of the guys and text you so you have my number too.” You rested your hand on the door frame. “I’m serious, let me know if you need anything.” 

Present Day - Baz’s Death - 11:43AM “Homicide cops want us all to come down to the station for questions,” Pope was entering the living room where Deran, J, and Nicky, and you were. You had your head on a pillow, horizontal just like you were in the truck, this time just on the red couches that took up the space along the living room walls. If it was up to you that’s where you would have stayed the entire time. There would have been no dragging you into the truck to look for J, no picking up Deran at the bar, you would have been right here. Numb and parallel to the couch. 

But when you told Pope you needed him, he took that seriously. He brought you with him everywhere he went, there wasn’t a moment you were out of his radius. 

You knew he was looking out for you while also trying to have a handle on the situation, keep everyone safe. It’s why he placed you down on the couch against the pillow and made Deran sit next to you. 

“Do that shit you do,” he pointed to the top of your head after he told Deran to sit next to you. 

“What?” Deran was out of it too, not like you, but he was clearly sad. Going through the motions. His eyes were heavy, glossy, and his face was red. 

“You scratch her head or something, it calms her down.” Pope would have been the one to notice that over the years. 

Deran just looked at Pope confused before it clicked, he looked down at you completely frozen, no reaction to words, to movement to anything. As he looked back up at Pope, who moved his hand again as if to say C’mon let’s go, just do it. 

Deran obliged, his left hand went to scratch the top of your head, just his fingertips like he’d done always. It was a comfort, one that neither one of you ever noticed. As he scratched the top of your head, you normally would have closed your eyes, felt the weight of your tears and let them out but none of that happened. You didn’t even flinch from the touch, just stared blankly at the fireplace. 

Pope dropped his shoulders and handed Deran a shotgun after the failed attempt at comfort. 

The conversation continued between them, they were talking about what they’d tell the cops, who could have done this, if anyone was after them. You stayed focused on the fireplace, mind somewhere else completely. 

That was until you heard Nicky mention Lena. 

Whose going to take care of Lena? Both of her parents are gone. Does she end up in foster care?

“No.” You and Pope both spoke up at the same time, his eyes darted to yours from Nicky’s. You were pushing up off the couch, sitting up right now. “I’ll take care of her.” You said it like you were going to be babysitting for the night, not taking her on as your own for the rest of your life. But that didn’t matter, that girl needed some stability and you’d gladly be the one to give it to her. You were the only one here with a real job, the only one with a semi-clean record, a normal life. It had to be you. 

“I need the Jag,” you turned to Pope. 

“I’ll drive you where you need to go,” his voice softened in a way that it never did with anyone else. 

“No, you need to go to the station for questions,” you were keeping your sentences short at the moment, not in the right headspace to explain everything going on in your head. 

“So do you,” he frowned a little trying his best to understand. 

“I also need to identify the body, that’s what the police said this morning, and then I need to pick Lena up from school, and figure out funeral arrangements, and legal shit and make sure that I can adopt Lena or at least keep her in my custody. I need to call my job and take bereavement and I have to go to his place and figure out if I’m moving in there or taking Lena with me to my place—which one I’m going to sell.” You went from having no thoughts to a million. 

“You can’t go alone,” Pope wasn’t going to argue with you, but he wasn’t going to leave you vulnerable either. 

“I have a gun, I have a brain, if someone runs up on me I can handle them, I’ll keep my head on a swivel.” 

Pope wasn’t going to argue anymore, he just pulled another gun from his waistband as you stood up and walked to stand next to him. “Take this, too.” The gun was being handed to you, Pope had his hand wrapped around the barrel with the handle free for you to grab. A few seconds passed while you stared at Pope, the handle just inches away from brushing against your abdomen. 

“Thanks,” you grabbed it and tucked it into your waistband, then saw the Jag keys in his palm. 

As your fingers grabbed the keys, his hand gripped around yours and brought it closer to him. “You call me if you need me, I don’t care if it’s for a light on the dash or someone looks at you funny, you call me.” 

“I’ll call you, I promise,” you said it with honesty, you knew brushing him off would have done nothing but make him repeat himself again. Turning you looked back at J, and tilted your head towards the kitchen. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” 

J’s eyes jumped from yours to Pope’s, then Deran who all gave no indication they had any idea what you were planning on saying. 

“Uh, yea,” J stood up, following you into the kitchen. It was there that you closed your eyes and tried to really pull yourself out of your head, all the thoughts that were crashing down on you that your numbing state earlier blocked out. 

“Okay, so I should’ve done this earlier. Just like with your mom, but again that’s my shit to fucking deal with, not yours. But at this point Baz is fucking dead, so any shit I was trying to tip-toe around is dead with him.” Your voice was cutting, likely the first stage of grief manifesting itself in your words. 

J’s eyes were locked on you, confused by your lack of context with what you were saying. 

“Look, I know you’re grown up, you’re 18, you don’t need someone to play mom and dad, but since Lena does, I’m going to figure out whatever I need to so she’s legally in my care. I’ll probably move her into my place or maybe I’ll move into Baz’s but either way, what I’m trying to get at is you have a place with me, alright? If you need to get away from this shit here, for good, for a night, for a week, whatever, you always have a place with me.” You were a little frantic in your delivery but it didn’t change the sentiment. 

“Thanks…” J was searching for the right words.

“You’re my nephew just as much as Lena is my niece,” that sentence was said with no shakiness, just truth. “What I’m doing for her now, I should’ve done for you then. But since I can’t change what I did then, I’m gonna do things differently now.” You nodded your head and looked up at him with soft eyes. 

“Alright,” J nodded and gave you a soft smile.

“Alright,” you nodded back, taking one quick step toward him and tapped his arm. “I’ll call you later, check on you. Let me go do all this shit.” 

Turning for the sliding doors, you paused when J called your name. 

“Let me know if you need anything, seriously. I meant it before,” J said. 

“I appreciate it, kid. But right now I need to go identify my piece of shit dead brother’s body and the conflict of that is even above my fucked up concept of life so I’ll spare you, but I’ll reach out if anything pops up.”

Present Day - Baz’s Death - 1:04PM

You wished you were numb like you were hours ago. As you bounced your leg up and down in the waiting room, your mind went through the list of everything you needed to get done. Funeral, assets, Lena, custody, place to live, the list went on. You kept your eye on your watch, checking it every so often to make sure you weren’t cutting it too close to Lena’s school pickup. The questioning was already done, they asked you where you were, names of alibis, if you knew anyone that would want to kill your brother. Normal questions. That made you chuckle to yourself, probably earning you eyes from a few people around you. Nothing about this was normal.

They called you back, like you were waiting at the fucking DMV or something, not identify your brother’s body. The frustration was seeping off your body as you walked through hallways and through door after door. After a few sighs and eye rolls, you entered the room where you saw the white sheet over Baz’s lifeless body. Almost immediately your entire mood changed, you noticed how cold it was in the room, how your hands were shaking now. As they pulled the sheet back, you felt your breath hitch, the anger suddenly gone, it was replaced with an emotion you weren’t really familiar with. It was a mix of nostalgia, a longing for the past, sonder, as you thought about the complexities of Baz’s existence as he lifelessly laid on the metal table, and a physical feeling of being so beyond out of place. You wish you could go back to being numb again, everything then was easier to deal with, probably because you weren’t dealing with it at all. As you stared at Baz’s blue and frigid face, your mind brought you back to another complicated moment in yours and Baz’s history. A recent one. 

2017 - Planning The Church Heist  

Your feet were kicked up on the coffee table as you sipped a bottle of beer. Your eyes trained on the TV but you were intently listening to the boys talk about what the next job was going to be. Yacht or church. Your vote didn’t matter and wasn’t ever taken into consideration, you never got an equal share and you weren’t expecting one now, especially since all of them were pulling away from Smurf and deciding new rules. You had started to get up off the couch, stand up to toss your empty bottle in the recycle and say your goodbyes, but the movement turned the attention on you. 

“Dockie, can you reach out to your cop boyfriend? See if security at the church has friends in blue, if there’s been any chatter of similar hits in the area, let us know what we’re walking into with either jobs.” Baz was interrupting everyone’s arguments to talk to you. 

After placing the bottle in the recycle you turned to Baz with your face twisted up ready to respond in argument when you were interrupted. 

“You have a cop boyfriend?” Pope’s question was littered in shock and a little humor, you heard the curiosity for what it was though, jealousy. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you looked at Pope to answer his question and moved your eyes onto Baz. “He’s a contact, I went to school with him, he’s a dick.”  Your arms were crossed. 

“Well, yea, most cops are,” Pope said matter of factly. 

“What am I supposed to do? Take him out and wine and dine him? C’mon. We can do our own recon, I’ll sit outside the fucking church or on the docks all night if I have to, just don’t make me go to dinner with this guy.” 

“It’s one dinner, make him pay,” Baz shrugged like it was no big deal. 

“He’s a creep, Baz.” You thought that repeating it would make him get it, and maybe, sure you were being a little over exaggerated,  but he did have a lingering eye. 

“We’ll cut you in, no more percentages.” That was his bargaining chip and he knew you wouldn’t be able to resist it, you could use the money. 

“I’ll go when you go, sit in the restaurant and make sure your boyfriend doesn’t get handsy,” Deran was teasing you from his spot at the breakfast bar. 

“Can we please stop calling him my boyfriend?” You were shaking your head, you already knew you’d cave in and do it. “For what it’s worth I think both jobs are stupid and asking for trouble.” You were grabbing another beer and plopping back down on the sofa, that was your way of agreeing to do the work. 

All of them went back to arguing, you were practically done with the second beer now. This time you were going to get up and head out for real, call this asshole cop and set a time for dinner, but then you heard a little voice.

“Daddy?” 

“What?! Lena, how many times do I have to tell you? No beach. Not happening.” Baz’s voice echoed through the whole house. 

Before you even had a chance to turn around, see Lena’s face or even the rest of the guys, you heard Pope.

“I’ll—I’ll —I’ll t-take you,” his hand extended over the bar towards his niece. “If it’s okay with your dad.” 

That made you let out a silent laugh. “I’ll go with you guys,” you placed your beer bottle on the coffee table and stood up, not waiting for Baz to answer. You grabbed Lena’s hand and looked up at Pope who was making his way over to you both, picking up Lena’s drawing and complimenting her on it. 

The two of you went to the beach, stopping first on the playground that was near The Strand but still on the sand. 

You pumped your legs on the swing next to Lena, cheering her on as you both soared back and forth. Pope was leaning against the park sign post, watching both of you intently. 

“I think I’m going too fast and high,” Lena’s little voice got wobbly and you were quick to slow your own swing down and grab the chains of hers. 

“I got you,” you gripped the seat now and controlled her swings. Pope was moving towards you now, worry on his face when you looked over your shoulder. “S’ok, she just got a little nervous.” 

It was then that the swing you were on got taken by some kid who was pretty chatty, you took that as your sign to step back and let her play with kids her own age. 

You stood on the opposite side of Pope, leaning on the metal pole just like he was. 

“So you gonna call the cop?” His voice was raspy. 

“Whatever Baz wants, Baz gets.” Your voice was littered with annoyance. 

“It doesn't have to be that way,” his arms were crossed, sunglasses perched on his face. 

“Says the guy who asked his permission to take his niece to the beach, everything needs his approval, I mean even the job,” you raised your hand and it fell back down against your thigh. “You know it, too. It’s already decided, we’re doing the church.” You shrugged. “And he can’t even be bothered to be a decent dad, again.” 

“Are you really with the cop?” Pope let his internal thoughts become outloud. 

You smirked, looking out at Lena and the horizon while you pulled a pack of cigarettes from your jacket pocket. “No.” 

“Are you with anyone?” He reiterated. 

This time you looked over at him, hiding your smile between the cigarette in your mouth. “No.” 

Silence grew between you two. The sounds of the kids playing and yelling filled the space, Lena’s laughs and giggles as she went just as high as before, this time with no problem as she tried to beat the kid next to her. 

“You want ice cream?” Pope was pushing off the sign. 

“Only if you’re buying.” You took one last inhale of the cigarette and put it out on the bottom of your shoe before placing it in the ashtray above the trash can. 

The walk home on The Strand was nice, Lena was in between you both, huge cup of cookies and cream ice cream in her hands as she skipped happily.  You had your own cup, so did Pope. 

“You want one of my gummy bears, kid?” You scooped one up and dropped it into Lena’s cup before she could even answer. 

“Thanks Auntie Doc,” she grinned and immediately ate it. 

“Thank Uncle Pope, he splurged for us,” you bumped his shoulder. 

After she thanked Pope, her eyes fell on hopscotch squares that were drawn in chalk on the concrete, only a few feet away from Baz’s, she asked eagerly if she could go ahead and both of you agreed. 

“You used to take me for ice cream after we’d hang out at the skatepark,” you mindlessly picked the spoon of ice cream up and toyed with it before taking a bite. 

“Half chocolate, half vanilla, gummy bears and hot fudge to keep them soft.” Pope read out your order. 

“You used to scare the cashier to make sure he gave me extra gummy bears,” for you it was a funny memory, but it clearly did something to Pope. 

“Everyone’s scared of me,” he tossed his ice cream into the trash. 

Your eyes looked up and saw how genuine he was and you took a beat, taking one more bite of your ice cream before tossing it too. “They don’t understand you, Pope.” 

You let that hang in the air a bit, really wanting that sentiment to sit with him. 

“If they did,” you turned to him, now at the steps of Baz’s. “They’d love you.” 

Before he could respond, Baz was opening the screen door. “Where’s the kid?” 

“She’s playing hopscotch,” you pointed to Lena who was having the time of her life.

“You call the cop?” Baz was leaning against the column. 

“I will.” You stepped up a few steps and leaned against the railing. 

“Just ask him about the church, nothing else,” Baz was looking out at Lena and that’s when you made eye contact with Pope and raised your brows in a knowing way. 

“Auntie Doc, can you read me a bedtime story?!” Lena was yelling out from the road to you. 

“Yea, Lena-love! C’mon let’s pick one.” You waved her over but not before checking to make sure there were no cars coming. She was in your arms in seconds. “Say goodnight to Uncle Pope.” You leaned so she could reach him, her arms wrapping around his neck. “G’night Uncle Pope.” 

“Goodnight,” he nodded and you saw his smile. 

“Go, I’ll be inside to say goodnight soon,” Baz waved both of you inside, his hand squeezing both yours and Lena’s shoulders as you passed.

“I’m going to Mexico tomorrow, I might need you and Doc to pick Lena up from school and shit,” Baz thought telling Pope would be the easy one. 

“You should spend more time with her,” Pope didn’t mind picking Lena up, but he saw how little Baz had been involved lately. 

“Any more parenting tips for me, man?” There was a chuckle that left Baz’s mouth, but it was less of a laugh and more of a warning. 

“I mean, she definitely didn’t love that you yelled at her earlier,” Pope had his hands at his sides as he shrugged.

“You know, why don’t you figure out your own shit before you start telling me how to raise my kid?” Baz was yelling now, his voice could be heard from inside which is when you grabbed Lena’s headphones. 

“Why don’t we play a song to help us get in the mood for the story, yea?” You placed the headphones on her head and connected it to her tablet, quickly pressing the first mermaid video you saw since she had picked up a marine book. 

“No one's ever gonna have a kid with you, ever!” Baz’s voice was echoing so loudly, it was a miracle Lena didn’t flinch. You held up your hand to show her you’d be back in a minute. Stepping out of her room, you waited in the living room for your brother, arms crossed. 

As he slammed the door and walked into his house, he didn’t even look at you. 

“What the hell was that?” You turned your body to face him, looking out the front door to see Pope still standing there, processing Baz’s words.

“What?” He snapped. 

“You need to chill, I know you’re dealing with a lot but you have a little girl who depends on you,” you weren’t trying to be mean, you weren’t even trying to hound him, you were being honest with him. 

“You know what I need? I need you to shut the fuck up and mind your business.” He was slamming his hand on the tiled table. 

“Mind it until you need me in it, right?” You weren’t backing down. “Mind it until you call me because you’re somewhere doing something and need me to pick your kid up,” you pressed a finger to the other like you were beginning to count. “Mind it until you need me to reach out to someone I know and run recon that you can easily do yourself but don’t want to, mind it until you’re beat to shit and need meds from my fucking stockpile, mind it until you need someone to parent your fucking kid or do your laundry or dishes or straighten up your place,” your voice was just as loud now and you were glad Lena had her headphones on. 

“You know, we used to be close. Hell, you’d take fucking beatings for me. We’d sneak out and get snacks from some corner store and put Ray’s hand in hot water and watch him piss himself when he was passed out drunk in the recliner. You gave a shit about me, you gave a shit about everything. The minute we walked into Smurf’s house, I lost you to her, we all did,” you stepped closer to Baz now. “You made me lose my job, Baz. My job. What I worked hard for. What was supposed to be my life.” Your voice cracked. “And now I’m here watching your kid, taking her to the beach for ice cream with her fucking Uncle, because you can’t be bothered with anything that doesn’t serve you.” Your voice echoed against the walls. 

Baz went to respond but then stopped. His eyes changed their position, almost looking evil in what he was thinking. His tongue swiped along the bottom of his lip before he shook his head with a smirk. “If you want to play fucking house with Pope be my guest, but don’t do it with my kid.” 

“Which one? The one you abandoned Julia with? Or the one you abandoned Lucy with? Or the one you’re about to abandon?” Your words had a bite to them. “You’re not a good person Baz, you’re not. I love you, you’re my brother, and I will always love you but you suck. And for the record it’s not playing house when we’re the only two people who give a single fuck about what happens to her, you don’t care Baz, and it used to be okay when it was me, when it was Pope, but this is your child, she has no one else, she needs you. You think you’re nothing like dad but you’re the spitting image of him, but Lena doesn’t have an older brother in her life to look out for her, and you know what? She’s probably better off for it. Because he’d learn from you and abandon her when she needed him the most. At least this way she has me, she has Pope, someone who knows when school fucking ends, what grade she’s in, what TV shows she likes. You treat her like a burden and she realizes that, she’s fucking 6 years old Baz, she’s a kid, a fucking kid.” 

After your long winded statement, you didn’t give him time to answer. Turning around, you went to go back to Lena’s room, say goodbye to her and tell her you were sorry you couldn’t stay for the story. She didn’t mind, you told her you’d see her tomorrow, which was the truth, you heard Baz’s plan to go to Mexico tomorrow. 

As you closed Lena’s door, you turned to your brother who was clenching his jaw. “When you leave tomorrow, call Pope, not me. I don’t want to hear from you about anything besides the job.” 

Present Day - Baz’s Death - 4:15PM 

That wasn’t the last time you talked to Baz, far from it. In fact, you had in some way made up from that fight at a point. You always did, but it was never a real fix. You never talked about the real problem, any real solutions, he was always running from it, and maybe in a way you were too. 

It’s what you were currently doing, running from it. As you unloaded Lena from the car in Baz’s driveway, your eyes clocked the blood stained sidewalk and the blood that was on the siding of the front porch as well. You were quick to hide it from the girl and told her to go play on the playground that was just a few feet down from his house. 

As she happily obliged, you stood on the sidewalk, your eyes staring at the blood that seeped into the concrete, it felt harrowing. It felt like a metaphor for something. The stain Baz was going to leave on your life, on everything. You felt your heart pick up, your mind was still trying to grieve the idea of Baz you had created in your head and begged for him to be, and now it was forced to deal with grieving him completely. It was a lot to take in, and seeing his blood here on the sidewalk, felt like it was forcing you to take it all in right now, rubbing it in your face. Every memory, every fight, every disappointment, every loss of what was to come, what could’ve been, what should’ve been. He was haunting you, it hadn’t even been 24 hours yet and Baz was haunting you. 

Someone calling your name brought you out of your spiral, it couldn’t have been one of the boys, they never used your full name unless it was serious and that was rare, although one could argue rare circumstances were upon you all. But you could tell by the voice it wasn’t someone that familiar, and you were right. There was Travis Callahan, the dirty cop you had wrapped around your finger. One dinner and he had made it a point to run into you at least once a week. Nothing inappropriate, but still an annoyance. 

“Hey, I just heard about your brother, I came down as soon as I could, are you okay?” He had his uniform on, his car was parked across the street, you must’ve missed it in the middle of your spiral. 

“Hey,” you closed your eyes and shook your head, “Yea, thanks Travis, you didn’t need to come down here, it’s all well you know, it’s family stuff.” You tried to put on your best brave face. 

“No, I know, I just— the guys at the station said you had stopped by right before I came in for my shift, I just figured I’d come check on you, I know this isn’t anything serious— between us meaning, but I don’t know, it’s your brother and he’s dead.” 

You tried to hold onto the sweet parts of his sentence, he was an airhead most days and today was no different. 

“Thanks for the reminder,” you smiled, sarcastically. 

“Shit, sorry. I just—just wanted to check on you.” He ran his hand through his gelled hair. 

“Thanks, Travis, really I appreciate it,” your face softened, maybe you had misjudged him all this time. When you would run into him, you didn’t talk about anything that wasn’t in small talk or co-worker talk territory, and he did just come to check on you, so maybe you should just smile and take it for what it was, someone being kind. 

“If you need a distraction, or if it helps not to be alone, I’m around, if you need…” he trailed off and that’s when you almost let out an audible laugh. Here you were feeling guilty for misjudging the guy when he was only here to jump at the chance to manipulate your grief. 

“What?” You thought you’d give him the chance to pull back a bit, earn a bit of something back, but he just doubled down. 

“You’re allowed to want comfort, you know. Even if it doesn’t make sense right now.” 

“I think I’m good, Travis. Alone is kind of my thing,” and still despite him reinforcing the fact he was a dick, you still let him down softly. 

“But you shouldn’t have to go through this alone. If you need someone, even just to stay the night, I can be here.”

“She said she was good,” Pope’s voice made both of you turn your heads, he was walking up from his truck that was parked a few feet behind both of you. 

You closed your eyes and mumbled a few words, something along the lines of here we go or great, this day sucks. 

“Pope.” Travis greeted the eldest Cody, his hands instinctively going to rest on the vest he was wearing over his uniform. “Sorry to hear about Baz.” 

“I’m sure,” Pope was behind you now. “This is kind of a family issue we have to deal with,” that was his way of politely telling Travis to leave and you knew Pope wasn’t going to ask again. 

“I’m serious,” Travis put his attention back on you. “Call me if you need anything.” 

Before you could answer, this time you planned to be a little more forceful, tell Travis you didn’t need anything and that unless he had any investigation news he should let you grieve with the family, Pope stepped in front of you. 

“She’s taken care of, Officer Callahan, you can go.” His hand pointed to the cop car. 

“Pope.” You hissed. 

“Nah, it’s alright. I’ll see you around,” he waved and moved back to his car, Pope kept his eyes on him until the car was well down the street. 

When he turned back around to you, he saw how angry you were. 

“I thought you said you weren’t dating that asshole?” 

“I’m not.” You went to rub the top of your head.

“You trust him,” that realization broke Pope a little bit. He was the person you called, and despite never talking about whatever shit was going on between you, being the person you relied on was what kept Pope together. 

“He’s a contact, Pope. I trust his intel, I trust his ability to find dirt on what’s dirty, that’s it.” You were reaching a limit. “I had it handled.” 

“I handled it for you.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “I thought I told you to call me if anything happened.” 

“Nothing happened!” Your voice cracked as you yelled, one arm across your chest and the other lifting off your forehead frantically. “I told you I had it handled.” 

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Pope was a little taken back, he hadn’t heard you get like this towards him in a long time, you normally saved that for Baz. 

“No, it’s fine. I’m sorry. I just— I need to tell my niece that her dad is dead and I don’t have the space to deal with this,” you moved your arms around referencing everything around you. The blood on the sidewalk, Travis and Pope’s ego contest, your crippling emotions. 

“I can tell her if you want?” Pope was just trying to be helpful now, he was dropping the Travis thing. 

With a deep breath you extended your hands out and grabbed his forearms. “No, thank you,” you let out a sigh and squeezed his arms. “Looking at the body fucked me up, I’m sorry I’m in a mood,” you shook your head and dropped his arms, letting your hand run down your face. “I can tell her, she’s on the playset right now and I’m gonna just feel it out. Can you take care of this blood, I don’t want her to see this.” You nodded to the stain. 

Pope didn’t even look at it, not even a glance or a minute to suss out the situation to see if he could even do it. He would make it happen, no questions. “Consider it taken care of.” 

Present Day - Baz’s Death - 5:04PM

Sitting on the swings that weren’t too far off from Baz’s place, Lena to your right, sun setting in front of you, you debated in your head the best way to tell her for a while. You could wait, but it wouldn’t change anything. You could just say it, but what would that do to her in the long run? You had to do this the right way, if that even existed. 

“Hey Lena?” You leaned against the swing chain, your legs slightly moving against the ground swaying you back and forth. Her head turned to you and the way her eyes met yours despite the sun making her squint made your heart ache, but you still couldn’t find it in you to cry. “I have to tell you something that might be hard to hear, so when I tell you, feel free to ask me any questions or tell me whatever you’re thinking or feeling. None of that will be bad or wrong, okay?” 

She nodded and with one last exhale, you told her.

“Your daddy got hurt really badly today and they had to take him to the hospital. The doctors did a bunch of stuff trying to help him but they weren’t able to fix what happened to him.” You hoped that was the right way to phrase it. 

“Daddy is dead?” Her voice sounded even more innocent than before and it broke you.

“Yea, Daddy is dead.” She had to hear those words, no matter how hard they were to say.

“Were you one of the doctors that tried to help him?” Her voice was so curious, like she didn’t really process much yet. 

Her question gutted you, bringing you back to being told by the police, everything you wished happened, how you wanted to be there at the hospital but weren’t. 

But you were here now and this is what would matter moving forward. 

“I wasn’t, Auntie Doc doesn’t work at the hospital anymore,” you answered her. 

“Oh,” it was a simple response from her. 

“You know how your daddy is my brother?” You looked out to the ocean. 

“Yea,” Lena did the same. 

“When I was about your age, he was just a liiiiittle older than me. He’d take me with him to the skate park with him and Uncle Pope, and never because he had to. No one told him to take me, but he always wanted to bring me. It was before we were living with Grandma Smurf, when we lived with our dad,” you looked back at Lena. 

“Daddy sometimes talked about his dad, he said his name was Rain,” Lena shrugged. 

“Yea,” you smirked, “Ray.” Continuing the story, you lifted your legs off the ground and started to swing slightly. 

“So at this skate park, I really couldn’t skate, Grandma Smurf got me a scooter I’d leave at her house because it was the easiest thing to do,” that made Lena giggle. “But this one time, I took this kid’s skateboard because I really wanted to skate like Daddy and Uncle Pope.” 

“Were you able to?” Lena asked curiously. 

“No,” you laughed. “I fell on one of the ramps and the skateboard came right back into me, I had scrapes and cuts all over me.” 

Lena made a yikes face. 

“I know,” you raised your eyebrows. “But your daddy, he got so mad,” you took a deep inhale. 

“At you?” Lena raised her voice. 

“Yea, at me and the boy whose skateboard I took,” you put your feet back down on the ground and looked at Lena. “He yelled at me and then he yelled at the boy.” 

“What did Uncle Pope do?” Lena’s eyebrows frowned. 

“He took care of me, cleaned up my scratches and he bought a bike from the skate shop so he could give me a ride and I didn’t have to limp my scooter home,” you remembered Pope putting his skateboard in his backpack and you standing on the pegs of the bike as he rode the brand new thing home. 

“That’s nice,” Lena nodded. 

“Yea, I just want you to know that sometimes Daddy got mad because he cared, it wasn’t the best way for him to act, but adults make mistakes sometimes too.” You weren’t trying to excuse Baz’s behavior, but you also didn’t want this girl going her whole life remembering the shitty things about her father and that’s it. When she was older she’d get a better explanation of the whys and hows of her father but this was the best you could give her now. 

“Okay,” She looked up at you. “What about Uncle Pope?” 

“What about him?” You slowed your swings. 

“What do you want me to know about Uncle Pope?” She asked and you couldn’t help but flare your nostrils and smile. 

“I want you to know that Uncle Pope will always take care of us.” You didn’t hesitate to answer. 

“Like he took care of you at the skatepark.” Lena didn’t phrase it as a question, just a statement. 

“Yes,” you nodded. 

“So both of my parents are dead?” The question came quickly and it hit you hard. You didn’t think how to respond first, your first thought was actually that Smurf had both of them killed and you felt that Blackwell anger bubble in you. You didn’t know if Smurf had Baz killed, but your intuition was telling you she did. You knew she had Cath killed, paid someone in her large pool of shitty contacts to do it. The more you thought about it, the more you actually didn’t care. Revenge wasn’t your thing, maybe if Lena wasn’t in the picture it would be, but getting even and proving a point couldn’t outweigh the responsibility of raising this little girl. She didn’t ask to be here, to be in this family. You owed it to her to show her a decent life. And a decent life didn’t include revenge. 

“Yea, they are. I’m sorry, kid.” You looked at her, searching her face for anything. 

“Where am I going to live?” Another question, this one you didn’t have an answer for. 

“I’m not sure about where yet, but I’m going to talk with some grown up people so you can live with me at my place or maybe I’ll move into your dad’s place,” you said. 

“I want to stay with you and Uncle Pope,” Lena’s voice got excited. 

Those words brought you back to a time when Deran had voiced those same words to you. Baz was running a job, Smurf had asked Deran to go with him and he fought against it. Begged and begged to stay with you and Pope at the house. It made sense, you were in the process of making rice krispy treats, showing them a semblance of attention they craved from their own mother. You asked him about it later, when he got back from helping out Baz, and he said that you and Pope didn’t make things feel worse. You had to wonder if that’s how Lena felt. 

 “Alright, well, I’ll let Uncle Pope know that. I think we can arrange for him to stay over tonight,” you weren’t going to promise forever because well, that was something you were battling with for years. A forever with Pope. 

Present Day - Baz’s Death - 8:34PM

Dinner was scattered all over the table, dishes, food scraps, empty glasses of soda. You were in the kitchen, Lena standing on the island, dancing to the music that was blasting through the TV. Your hands were on her waist, a safety precaution in case she stumbled, you’d be able to catch her. Her laughs filled you with a joy that was unexplainable. Lena had picked a fun playlist and currently Spice Up Your Life by the Spice Girls. The concert music video was on the TV and you were quick to grab Lena and bring her to stand on the couch, you standing in the spot next to her. “Alright Lena-love, I’m gonna introduce you to The Spice Girls, this is like the ultimate girl-power group and we’re gonna dance just like them in this video,okay?” You started moving on the couch and she copied you, swaying around, you stepped down and turned to her, grabbing her hands and showing her the dance moves, you’d seen the movie a million times, they were somehow embedded into your brain. Lena’s smile was as wide as it could go, her laughs were loud and as the beat dropped you picked her up. Slam it to the left, If you're havin' a good time, Shake it to the right. You moved her and dipped her in both directions and then twirled her around. Now it was your turn to laugh, you were almost out of breath when you placed her back on the couch and pointed her attention to the TV and moved to the kitchen to grab some water. 

Pope’s eyes were on both of you until you moved, then they stayed on you. As you closed the fridge, and chugged half of a cold bottle of water, you looked at him and chuckled with a shake to your head. 

“What?” 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you have this much fun since we were kids,” he shrugged. 

“I loved the Spice Girls,” you took another sip. 

“Oh I know, you used to watch the movie when we were teenagers all the time,” his eyebrows raised. 

“Movie?!” Lena turned around, moving her hands like the Spice Girls were. 

You almost spit up your water but managed to keep it down. “We’ll watch it sometime soon, kid. Keep having fun.” 

Plopping down on the chair next to Pope at the breakfast bar, you still felt his eyes on you, but you kept yours on Lena. 

“Uncle Pope, come dance with me!” Lena called out as the song changed to ABBA. 

“You can’t say no to her, you know you can’t,” you smirked. 

While Pope got up, he didn’t do much but stand there and hold his hands out for Lena to use as a steadyment to jump up and down to, but you’d be lying if hearing Dancing Queen while Pope twirled Lena around wasn’t making your heart sing. 

After a few more songs, Lena had eventually passed out in Pope’s arms, his swaying back and forth was enough to lull her into a sleep even with the music still being so loud. 

You moved to the remote and lowered the volume, then rested your hand on the back of Lena, moving her long brown hair out of her face just to see how peaceful she was snoozing. 

“I think we did a good job keeping her mind off things tonight,” you whispered. 

Pope whispered back to you,“I’m gonna put her in her bed.” 

You followed him, standing in the doorway you saw how gently he placed her in her bed, the way he moved her hair and tucked the blanket over her. As he turned around, he froze for a minute when he saw you watching. All you did was bring one finger up to your lips and let out a silent shush. He tip-toed towards you, closing the door behind him while you just scaled the frame so you were on the opposite side of it. He was next to you, maybe 6 inches from you, the music was still at a low hum in the background, the lights were dim, the ocean waves could be heard from the open windows now, the breeze coming in from the same place. 

Pope gave you a nod. “How are you feeling?” 

“I don’t know, I’ve kind of been avoiding thinking about anything.” You shrugged, your hands resting on the frame behind you. 

“Do you want to think about it now?” Pope asked the question, his voice searching for an answer. 

“I don’t think I ever want to think about it,” you let out a scoff that was mixed with a laugh. But even as you said that, you didn’t really mean it. You wanted answers, you just weren’t sure how. “I don’t want Lucy anywhere near this fucking house, that I could tell you.” Your voice changed, anger laced in every word. 

“Lucy isn’t coming here,” Pope spoke so effortlessly. 

“She isn’t getting custody of Lena,” you spat that out just as fast. 

“She isn’t getting custody of Lena.” Pope repeated what you said to confirm it as well. 

“She wants to live with you and me,” you let your voice soften, a smile growing at your lips. 

“You and me?” Pope frowned. 

“You and me.” You confirmed, looking up from the ground your eyes met his and you saw how confused he was. “She asked me where she was going to live and I told her I wasn’t sure, maybe my place, maybe I’d move here. But I was going to talk to the grown ups to make sure she’d stay with me, and I think her exact response to that was I want to stay with you and Uncle Pope.” 

“I can stay here,” he shrugged like it was no big deal, “or your place if that’s where you want her,” he paused and caught your eyes, “if you’re okay with that.” 

“I’m okay with that,” you nodded. It was not the time to read into emotions, it really wasn’t. But you were looking to cling to anything that wasn’t sad right now, anything that wasn’t a reminder of your dead brother. And this? Pope living with you? You raising Lena together? Your mind clung to that, so did your heart. You felt butterflies, butterflies. On the day of your brother's death, and here you were feeling happy. 

If you want to play fucking house with Pope be my guest, but don’t do it with my kid.

Baz’s words echoed in your brain and you’d do anything to get them out. 

That’s why you reached your hand out and let your finger run down Pope’s arm. Instinctively, you looked down at him, his body was closer to you than his face, even if he was standing there almost motionless. His chest was moving up and down, and despite your eyes trailing down him, he stayed on your face, your eyes. 

You moved just an inch closer to him, your finger lightly brushing against the hem of his button up. His breath felt like a glass of water to your face, waking you up from everything. It gave you the edge you needed, instead of pulling away, you brought your hand up his forearm, brushing your fingers slightly up his exposed skin. His goosebumps gave you your own but you just used them as fuel to move closer to him, your chest against his now. He moved his head against yours and that’s when you felt his hands move up to grip your face. That was all the action you needed to move your lips to his. 

This was different from the first time you kissed Pope. This was slow, intimate, sensual. The first time was instinctual, physical, no romantic tension to be found. 

It’s why you were surprised your knees didn’t buckle right now, or maybe they did and he just held you up so strongly with his grip on you. 

You had waited years for this. After that one night years ago, where he took you on the floor of your house’s bedroom, it was all you could think about. How amazing it was but how amazing it could have been if you both really let your guards down. 

This would be the first time you’d both do it knowing what it meant for both of you.

You felt your entire body sing, the serotonin mixed with the adrenaline coursing through your veins made you get a little sloppy in how you guided his lips on yours, the dancing of your mouths became a bit more like a drunken makeout but you didn’t care. This was the closest to drunk you ever wanted to be ever again. Pope’s lips on yours and his hands gripping you like you belonged to him. Your hands went to his buttons, undoing a few of the bottom ones before trailing your hands up to the top ones and undoing a few of those. Your knuckles brushed against his adam's apple while you unbuttoned the top button. It sent a rush down your body and his. As you pulled away to gasp for air from the rush of it all, that’s when Pope shook his head and took a step back. 

“No, we can’t do this.” 

Then it all shattered. 

“What’s wrong?” You whispered it so low you weren’t even sure if he heard you. 

“Us, we— you’re Baz’s sister, you’re not—we’re not supposed to do this.” He was getting caught on his words, stuck in his thoughts that weren’t able to come out as a string of conscious words at the moment. 

“We could have a normal life,” you whispered it again, you felt everything in you change. You weren’t able to pull any of this back in. The tension that had built up between you two for decades had been sliced wide open, everything was gushing, pooling at the ground, there was no more hiding anything. And because of that, you were going to say or do anything to get this, you’d beg, you’d let every fucking thought, every feeling, everything out in this moment. 

“What’s normal?” Pope’s voice cracked. 

“This!” You raised your voice now, not in a yell but in a plea of desperation. “Coming home, eating dinner, dancing in the fucking kitchen,putting Lena to bed, trying to stay quiet in the bedroom as you love me, sitting on the porch afterwards and watching the waves, driving for ice cream at 2AM, heating up milk on the stove if Lena wakes up, a normal fucking life, Pope.” You didn’t realize you had started to cry. 

“Nothing is normal, my family is the farthest thing from normal, we are the farthest thing from normal.” Pope’s voice was cracking, his own cries clawing at his throat. 

He had to be repeating some sentiment from Smurf, you saw how he looked at you, how he watched you, how he cared for you. 

“Smurf never wanted us together because she knew I’d take you away. She knew she’d lose you to me. She made sure you saw Catherine and then that Catherine saw Baz. Every good thing that came into our lives that you gravitated towards..you craved it—craved it Pope. You longed for it. And Smurf took that and ruined it for you. Ruining every chance to leave this fucked up life behind you.” You stepped closer to him, grabbing his hand in yours. “But I’m here, with that little girl and we’re begging you, come start a good life with us.” 

That must’ve done something because he just stood silent, his tears lightly falling, not sobbing just racking his brain around your words. His hands gripped around yours and you did the one thing you’d regret. You said it. It was the last card to play, although you weren’t playing a game at all, you were just hopeful that this would go how you’d always imagined it. He’d kiss you, he’d take you, he’d be yours. He’d say it back. 

Wrong. 

“I love you.” 

“I can’t love you how you want me to.” 

Everything stopped. Your ears did that thing, not a ringing, but just made everything silent around you. Desperation filled you. The despairing cry in your throat came out first, the sound of a broken heart, the sound of everything crumbling. Instead of taking it with stride, you did everything but drop to your knees in prayer.

“You already do!” You yelled, despite Lena sleeping in the room right next to you. “Do you not see it, Pope? You see me, you look for me in a room full of people, you know my favorite things, you stand up for me, you protect me, I don’t even say anything and you know what I’m thinking—what I’m feeling. For God sakes Pope, we’ve loved each other since we were kids!” 

“How can you love me?” He was genuinely asking. Just when you thought your heart couldn’t break more, he hit you with that line and it shattered into a million pieces. 

“I just do, it’s the easiest thing to me, it’s like breathing, I just do.” Your answer came just as easy as loving him was. 

“Love isn’t easy.” He argued that point with you. 

“Not in the way you think, the love you know is conditional. Based on performance, and loyalty, the love I have for you is unconditional, Pope. Always. No matter what. It always has been.” There it was, the plea, but you already knew how this ended. It’s how everything you loved ended. Your career, your brother, now Pope. You should’ve known better. 

 “Of all the things we have to be scared of and we choose love.” You laughed, almost in disbelief, taking a step back now, your hand dropping out of his. 

“I can’t do this Pope,” you shook your head and wiped your tears. “Baz picked and chose when he wanted to be there and I can’t have someone else pick and choose. Not anymore. If you can’t realize what’s in front of you then I can’t do this, I can’t be in this fucking limbo anymore just waiting and hoping for you to touch me, to kiss me, to love me. If you won’t choose me then I choose me.” 

“Don’t—don’t do that.” Pope’s mouth scrunched up, the frustration turning into anger. 

“Do you remember the night before you got arrested for the bank robbery? I had walked to the skatepark and you were the only one there, we sat on the top of the ramp and talked for a bit,” You wiped the tears again, you weren’t sure why, they just kept coming. “I asked you why can’t we do what makes us happy.” You let out a laugh. “However many years later and I’m asking myself the same question.” You ran your hand over the crown of your head. “You should go,” you shook your head. 

Pope said your name, his own pleading cry. 

You didn’t say anything else, just turned to retreat to the back of the house. There was a part of you, the last part of you that was holding onto the hope that Pope would follow you, he’d stop talking and let his actions show you his words meant nothing. But there was nothing. Just silence. You let your back slide down the back door as you brought your legs up to your chest and sat on the floor, hand over your mouth to muffle your cries, your eyes squeezed shut like you could will yourself into a sleep and wake up from this entire nightmare of a day. 

When you heard the front door open and close, you let the cry come out as audible. The crack in your throat as the final piece of you broke, you fell over on the ground, gripping your hand to your chest as the sobs released. It was a mix of everything. 

The loss of Pope. Everything you kept to yourself in fear of rejection, in fear of losing him now all out in the open with the one result you dreaded. While you spent years keeping everything at bay, the possibility was always there. It’s what made everything bearable. It was a possibility. But now you grieved that possibility. The idea of you sharing a home, having a life. You got a taste of it tonight, maybe that’s why it hurt this bad, like someone stuck their hand in your chest and twisted your heart before pulling it out and stepping on it. 

You sobbed on the floor, the cries aching in your body didn’t make you feel numb like you wished they did, they just made you feel everything. You wailed, it wasn’t loud, it was almost silent if anything. There couldn’t be a place lower than this. 

Dockie. 

You felt like you heard your brother. Your cries paused, your eyes opening and before you could think, you were standing up, moving through the house, using the walls and door frames as balance, your head spun from sobbing on the floor and getting up so fast. 

“Baz?!” Your swollen eyes searched for him, your tone hopeful like you knew he’d be there.  

As you stood in the empty living room, the grief punched you in the gut. There was no response, no answer to your cry. Just you. 

 The loss of your brother. There was no fixing your relationship, no closure, no last words. You’d never hear him call you Dockie again. The thing you hated since you were a kid, suddenly you held an ache in your soul for it. He’d never place a peck on the side of your face again, or remind you of something you tried so desperately to forget. He’d never yell at you, never argue with you, never make you feel small. Everything you couldn’t stand, and yet here you were missing it. Wishing for one last moment to experience it. Then there were the good things, when you’d laugh. He’d just catch your gaze from across the room and you’d burst into laughter over some inside joke–sibling same brain thought. When you’d finish a job and he’d jump on your back like he was a kid and scream like a maniac. The times he’d whisper to Lena to go tell you that you were her favorite Aunt. 

It was sudden, like a flip of a switch, you stopped crying. Your face went neutral, this time when you wiped your face it was the last of the tears you’d wipe away. Quickly, you moved to the bathroom, tossed water on your face and pulled your phone out of your back pocket. Suddenly, with a dial, you called the last person you thought you’d call tonight. 

“Hey, do you wanna come over?” 

2009 - Moving In  

When you bought your house, you didn’t hire movers, you bamboozled your brother and the Cody boys to do all the heavy lifting. You didn’t even pack much from Smurf’s. You bought all new stuff, a new bed, a new dresser, a couch, but they were the ones building and moving things where you wanted. It had been a long day. At this point, Craig had broken a lamp, thrown a wrench out of frustration as he built your coffee table, and was now sitting on stool, eating the pizza you bought. Deran had unpacked about 15 boxes for you, asked you why you had certain things almost double that amount of times, and was currently walking in from grabbing a 24 pack of beer for your fridge. Baz had been the least helpful, he had brought in a few boxes, made some judgement slights as he walked through the place and then just leaned against one of your walls as kept a watchful eye. Currently, he was probably back at his place, far away from the unpacked mess of this house. Pope, well Pope was redoing the furniture Craig built and getting a jump start on other ones. He kept to himself, organizing things and just being a huge help. While you were in the kitchen with Craig and now Deran, Pope was still working, putting things together. 

“Doc, beer is the first thing you buy when you buy a house, it’s a luck thing, c’mon.” Deran lifted the case and pushed it into the bottom rack of the fridge. 

“24-pack?” You raised your eyebrows. 

“That’s enough for me and Deran, what will you drink?” Craig laughed, his hand wrapped around the slice of pizza. 

“I got her that boxed wine shit,” Deran laughed, his other hand showing the small box of red wine. 

“The place looks good,” Craig was looking around the house. “I just don’t get why you don’t wanna paint the outside, the turquoise is a choice.” 

“I didn’t realize you were an interior decorator,” you moved to grab a beer from the case Deran just bought, one for you and one for Craig since Deran had already grabbed for himself.

“I’m not,” he let out a laugh, “exterior,” he thought the joke was hilarious since he had been referring to the outside of your house. 

“I think the teal’s got charm, it’s very Doc.” Deran jumped up on the counter while you moved to continue to unpack the kitchen boxes. 

“Pope!” You yelled out to him, “Come eat!” Turning back to the other Cody’s you shook your head. “The exterior paint stays, you two go.” 

“Hey!” Craig lifted his hands up while Deran just laughed. 

“I love you both, thank you for helping me, finish eating, take beers with you to go and I’ll see you here tomorrow, I’m tired, after Pope eats I’m going to bed.” You explained why you were kicking them out. 

Pope didn’t come out by the time Deran and Craig left, it's why you found yourself arm crossed and leaning against the doorway. “I see that your hands work but your ears don’t.” 

“I wanted to finish putting your bed together so you had a place to sleep tonight,” he didn’t bother looking up from what he was doing. Tossing the mattress onto the bed frame he built, putting the sheets on for you. 

“I can make a bed, Pope.” You smiled and he paused to look at you. 

“You’re tired,” he saw the droop in your eyes immediately.

“I am, but that’s not why I’m telling you to stop, I want you to eat something, you’ve been non stop all day,” you were already out of the doorway and moving to the kitchen. You came back with the box of pizza, two beers and a roll of paper towels. “Eat.” 

You both sat crisscrossed on the floor, the pizza box open and now practically empty, the box wine had made its way in the room too, you were about 5 glasses in at this point, Pope had his empty beer glasses lined up next to him in an orderly line. 

“It’s a nice house,” Pope wasn’t looking around when he said it, just directly at you. 

“I hope to make it a home,” you pulled your legs up. 

“You will.” Pope nodded. 

“You just saying that?” You were looking around the room. 

“I don’t just say anything,” Pope said. “You always made your space feel…welcome,” he nodded as he searched for the word. 

“You saying that means more to me than you realize,” you finished the cup of wine. 

He nodded again, this time slow. “I realize.” 

There was a comfort in the air, the kind that only came from being in a space with someone that didn’t call for anything. There was no need to entertain, fill the silences, or be anything other than yourselves. You placed your cup down and then laid your back against the floor, your eyes staring up at the ceiling. 

“Do you remember that place Baz moved into when Smurf kicked him out of the place on The Strand?” You couldn’t help but laugh at the memory. 

“The one that had the pipe that would leak on the couch.” Pope remembered it well. “I used to crash there when I’d fight with Smurf.” 

“I remember, because we’d share that nasty ass couch. You’d take the side that would drip.” You turned your head and realized he was now laying down next to you, your feet were in the opposite direction, but your heads were next to each other. 

“You said it had character,” Pope turned his head to look back at you. 

“I lied.” Your nostrils flared and you laughed. “Baz was one negative thought from jumping off a ledge, I had to keep him grounded.” 

“You keep all of us grounded.” Pope still kept his eyes on you. 

“Everyone but me,” you let out a soft exhale, your eyes training up to the ceiling. 

Pope didn’t say anything, but you felt the shift in the air, or maybe it was just in your head. You felt the heat in your face from the wine, the long day, the high of the fact you were finally out of Smurf’s. 

Turning your head back down from the ceiling and to Pope, you realized he hadn’t stopped looking at you. 

“You’re staring.” 

“Can’t help it,” he replied. “I should go,” he didn’t move when he said those words. “Call me if you need me to come over.” 

You pulled your phone out of your pocket, you had a bunch of notifications from the hospital you worked at, but it was your week off so you ignored them. All you did was go to your contacts and hit Pope’s name and brought the phone to your ear. 

Pope frowned as his phone vibrated in his pocket, he answered it and brought it up to his ear, both of you still looking at each other. 

“Hey, do you wanna come over?” 

The joke landed, his smirk twitched up before he hung up. 

“It’s good to see you like this,” Pope nodded.

“Like what?”

“Happy,” he responded. 

“You want to see me happier?” You let the wine talk with that line. 

Pope didn’t say anything, just nodded. It was then that you leaned closer, you brought your lips on his. It was a quick peck at first, but when he leaned more into it you felt yourself let down every physical guard you had built up. You grabbed his shirt, bringing him closer to you, tossing your leg over his before you were on top of him, grinding your body onto his. He gripped your legs, moving you against him, his mouth opening as he gasped slightly. 

He sat up, bringing you up with him, his arms moving around your torso, pulling your shirt off as he did. You eagerly undid his pants just enough so that you could hold him in your hand, he pulled your shorts to the side and within seconds he was inside you. Both of you inhaling at the sensation. Your head fell back and you moaned in pleasure. He pumped in and out of you, his eyes never leaving you as he did. 

“Look at me,” he demanded in such a soft voice. 

Your eyes connected with his and it was like the feeling of him in you got ten times more sensitive. You felt a lump in the back of your throat, the emotion of years of pining coming to you right now. This wasn’t romantic, you couldn’t afford it to be. It was instinctual, it was safe. 

He pressed his mouth against your chest, his eyes still connected with yours. 

“Fuck,” you mumbled again and let your head fall back despite wanting to get lost in his eyes. 

As your head fell back, he moved to be on top of you, resting you gently against the floor of your room so he could pump into you. His arms were toned and your eyes caught the flex and release of his muscles as he gripped you and steadied himself on the floor. Your legs wrapped around him and your breath hitched with every movement in you. 

“Do I feel good?” you asked him because you knew his response would send you over the edge.

“You know how good you fucking feel,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “You feel amazing.” 

“Oh my god,” you closed your eyes and felt yourself hit your climax, each movement sending you a little further over the edge than before. “Keep going,” you felt yourself coming undone, your voice thready and messy. 

Your screams echoed against the empty walls of your apartment, along with you begging for Pope not to stop. 

“Flip over,” he mumbled into your ear and you obliged without any hesitation or fight, he brought your hips in his hands and continued to bring you back against him, one hand moving down your front to catch your clit in his hand. 

“If you do that, I’m gonna cum again,” your voice was still breathy. 

“Good,” he said it without any emotion, not like he was proud, not like he was needy, just content with the idea of it. 

As he thrusted in you you felt the release again, Pope pumping you through it. As your body went a little loose, he carefully exited you and let you lay on your back. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, sitting up on your elbows. 

“You’re tired,” he looked like he was going to get dressed. 

“You didn’t finish,” your brows furrowed. This had never happened to you before. 

“But you did, twice.” Even though he didn’t say it like he was proud, you could tell he was. 

“Cum in me,” you didn’t want this to get emotional, but you didn’t want this to end yet. “I get the shot, I can’t get pregnant.” 

“Are you–” Pope went to ask, not about you getting pregnant but about keeping this up.

“Yes, you feel good too, you know.” 

And with that, he reentered you and his hand gripped your neck to bring you down completely on him. He moved so deliberate and calculated, like he knew each spot he hit inside you in the order he did would unlock another climax out of you. You felt dizzy, your head was spinning in the best way possible, you never wanted this to end, but you couldn’t say that, wouldn’t say that. So you just enjoyed every second of him in you.

“Three times,” you whispered it since you felt the moan in the back of your throat. 

“Look at me,” his voice was low too, and you realized you were both about to release. 

He held you after, your head was against his chest and in all honestly you ached for this. Which is why you pulled your head up after a few minutes, any longer and you wouldn’t have been able to separate this from romance anymore. 

“We didn’t even test the bed you built,” you joked as you sat on your knees to collect your clothes. 

Pope didn’t say anything, just watched you. 

“Well I guess that was bound to happen, right?” You let the joke fall off your tongue as you grabbed your shirt. 

“Guess so,” Pope’s jaw tensed. 

“Not gonna be weird right?” You were trying to keep this together, make sure there were no fraying edges or fallout from this. 

“I’m not weird,” Pope looked at you now. 

That got you to chuckle. “You are, but I know you won’t be about this.” 

He twitched his mouth too. 

“I was serious before, call me if you need someone to come over. I know how lonely living alone can be.” Pope was fully dressed now. He didn’t mean for sex, he meant genuinely for company. You knew that without needing him to clarify.  

“Same goes for you. You can call me if you need to get out of the house, I know how lonely living in a house full of people can be.” You stood up and walked Pope to your front door. 

There were no more words exchanged between you, he just occasionally looked over his shoulder at you as he walked down your driveway, jacket in hand, swagger in his step. 

As you closed the door, you leaned against it and let yourself slide down so you were sitting on the ground, knees to your chest and hands in your scalp. 

You couldn’t let that happen again. Not unless it was for real. For good. 

Present Day - The Day After Baz’s Death - 1:34AM

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Travis’ voice was smug, almost grossly. 

He was pulling his shirt back on his body as he stepped out of the shower while you continued to wash yourself off from the ick, washing your hair and your body. 

When he came over, you didn’t let him talk, you grabbed him into the shower that sat outdoors, it was still private, fully walled and closed in from wandering eyes outside, but it was a surfer’s shower, the place you went to clean off from the beach. It didn’t feel right to bring him in the house. It didn’t feel right to have him here at all, but you needed to do something to feel anything but the grief in you. 

You didn’t let him look at you, he stood behind you the whole time, you told him to shut the fuck up a few times too. It wasn’t worth it. That thought went through your brain as it was happening but you did make the most of it. 

“Told you it’s better not to be alone,” He was drying his hair off while you rinsed the shampoo and soap off your body. 

“You should go,” they were the same words you spoke to Pope, that wasn’t lost on you, but as you grabbed a towel and wrapped it around your body, you had no other desire right now than to be alone. 

Nothing made sense anymore. And you weren’t in the mood to deal with it. 

You walked into the house, Travis behind you still. As you walked into Baz’s room, you realized you had no clothes here. With a sigh, you opened his dresser, grabbed a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt, it was a UCSD one that you bought him when you went to school. Tossing both on, you looked at Travis who was watching you from the bed. 

“Travis I’m serious, you should go, I have Lena tonight and I have to take her to school in the morning and I don’t really have it in me to explain anything else to her right now,” you moved to the kitchen and poured yourself a cup of water from the faucet. 

“I can sleep on the couch, you shouldn’t be alone, I mean your brother was shot here probably like this time last night,” he followed you and those words haunted you as he stood behind you. 

The slam of the faucet wasn't enough of a context clue for him. So when you turned around, eyes closed, you took a large gulp from the cup and nodded. “Leave through the back door, the front door will wake Lena.” You moved to her bedroom, the one place you knew he wouldn’t follow you. As you shut the door, you stood at the opposite side of the sticker covered door and looked down at your niece who was sound asleep. At first you just squatted down and watched her, occasionally sipping from your water glass. After about an hour, where you successfully thought of nothing but her peaceful snores, you decided to crawl in the bed with her, you didn’t dare try to cuddle with her, afraid it’d wake her up, but being there with her, felt like the only thing you ever needed again. And from how tonight went, it was safe to say it was probably the only good thing you’d ever have again. 

2010 - The Day Lena Was Born 

Pacing in the hospital was not how you expected this night to go. You were in a dress, the only one you really owned at this point of your life. It was the one you wore to graduation, the one you wore for your residency interview at the hospital, and now it was the one you wore at your brother’s wedding. And apparently his daughter’s birth, too. 

The courthouse was packed with people, apparently it was the day for weddings, there had to be about 20 other couples in the municipal building along with Catherine and Baz. And that wasn’t including their witnesses which was almost double that number. Pope was next to you, his leg bouncing up and down a bit as he sat straight up on the wooden bench. Both of you were the witnesses for Baz and Cath, he had on a button up shirt, black jeans, his hands resting on his knees. You placed your hand on his. 

“What’s going on in your head?” 

“I’ve never been to a wedding before.” Pope stopped moving his leg. 

“Me either,” you thought about it. 

“What do we do?” Pope asked. 

“This is a pretty straightforward wedding, I think we just sit and watch them, maybe sign something.” You looked around, seeing multiple couples get ushered in at once. 

“I think we get brought in with a group, we’ll probably be able to see what we need to do,” you pointed to the next group being brought in. 

“Alright,” he nodded. 

“It’s kind of nice, celebrating love.” You looked at the other couples around, all happy, close together, laughing and cuddling. 

“It doesn’t feel like us,” Pope was taking in the couples now. The wide smiles, the connecting arms, the heads resting on shoulders. 

“What doesn’t?”

“All of it, the flowers, the pressed clothes, the happiness…” Pope trailed off, almost disgusted as he looked around. 

“You iron your clothes,” you pushed your lips in a straight line, you knew what Pope meant, but you couldn’t help but tease him. Sometimes you felt like you were the only one he let get away with it.

“You know what I mean,” Pope didn’t look at you but nodded his head as he slightly turned it at you. 

Leaning back against the wooden bench along the back wall of the courthouse, your eyes fell on the back of Pope. 

“You don’t believe in it? Marriage?” You asked. 

“It’s nice,” the way he said it was like he was convincing himself of the words he was saying. “For other people.” 

“But not for you?” You didn’t mean to hammer him with questions, you were just curious what was going on in his brain. 

Pope didn’t answer, his eyes just fell down to your hands that were fidgeting in your lap. He rarely saw you dressed like this, he rarely saw you fidget either. 

“I believe in it for other people, too.” You spoke as you looked down at your hands. “But for people like us, it’s just out of place. But the notion is nice right? A partner who chooses you day in and day out, sees your flaws and still loves you, someone to go through life with.” 

“Sure, it’s a nice notion.” Pope agreed. 

“All we have are moments. Happiness… people say it’s a state of mind but in reality it’s just little moments in time that we pocket for later. For when we’re sad.” You knew it sounded crazy. 

Pope looked over at Baz and Cath, they were standing at the registrar’s desk, Baz had just leaned over and whispered in her ear, saying something that made her laugh. 

It was then that they called your group number, a few other people stood up too. Baz and Cath had already moved to the door, Pope stood up and straightened his collar and pressed down his shirt. You followed his movements and pressed the skirt of your dress down as you stood. 

“You ready?” You moved your arm to him so he could link his with yours. 

“For the wedding?” He placed his arm in a way so you had to link yours to his. 

“For the moment,” you whispered and playful brought him over to the line. 

The wedding was quick, but as you pulled up to the restaurant that they were holding their reception dinner at, Cath’s water broke before she even made it 5 steps in the parking lot. 

That’s how you ended up pacing in the hospital now. 

“You should sit down,” Pope was clearly anxious. 

You plopped down next to him, your breath exhaling dramatically. 

“I don’t like hospitals,” you said it through frustrated breath. 

That got Pope to look at you with a twisted face. 

“I don’t like waiting in hospitals, working them is different, I’m in control,” you explained, your leg shaking. 

“You want a coffee or something?” He thought of different ways to give you something to do. 

That earned him the same face he had recently made to you. 

“Decaf,” he corrected himself. 

“No, I’m fine. I just need to wait.” You sighed again. 

In a little over 15 minutes, you rested your head on Pope’s shoulder, your arms linked in his and your snores quietly brushed against his collar bones over his shirt. He didn’t move, he stayed frozen so as to not wake you up, but he’d occasionally try and sneak a glance at you. If not directly down at you then at the reflection in the glass window in front of him. 

It reminded him of all the couples he’d seen at the courthouse not that long ago. The ones that were happy. That didn’t feel like you guys. But suddenly held a pretty close resemblance to you. 

He stayed that way for 2 hours until Baz came out in the blue gown and gloves. “It’s a girl,” he whispered so he didn’t wake you up. “Do you want to meet her?” Baz asked Pope. His eyes immediately fluttered to you. 

“Yea, let me wake her up and we’ll meet you down in the nursery,” Pope nodded and tapped Baz’s side. 

“Hey,” Pope whispered to you. “Hey, hey,” a couple more times along with a shake and you were waking up. “It’s a girl, Baz said we can go meet her.” 

“A girl? Oh good, we need a girl.” You spoke through a raspy voice. 

“We need a girl?” Pope questioned your words. 

“We always need a girl, we’re outnumbered by you Cody boys.” You smiled, and brought Pope up with your arm still interlocked with his. 

You walked that way with him until you got to the nursery. Baz had a baby girl in his arms and you could have cried at the sight of it. “And this Lena, is your Auntie Dockie and your Uncle Pope,” Baz lifted his arm up so that the baby was easier for you to see. 

“Oh my gosh, she’s so beautiful,” you couldn’t take your eyes off her. “How’s Cath?” 

“She’s good, she’s tired,” Baz kept his eyes on Lena. “You wanna hold her?” Baz looked at you. 

All you did was nod, as he placed her in your arms, you felt your entire body shift. Those moments you mentioned earlier? The ones of happiness that you hold onto forever, this would be one of those moments for you. 

“Lena-love,” you cooed, today was a day that started out celebrating love and it only felt right to commemorate it with the love of someone that would bring you joy forever. “She’s perfect,” your voice cracked. 

Pope couldn’t take his eyes off you, if he thought seeing those couples earlier panged in his heart, this was even stronger. Seeing you hold a baby, a baby that you so clearly loved, that he so clearly loved and he only knew her for a few seconds. 

“You’re going to be so loved,” you cooed again. 

Baz had moved to sit down in the chair in the nursery, his eyes heavy as he watched his baby sister hold his baby. Pope stood close to you, looking over your shoulder at Lena. 

The baby bubbled her mouth, her saliva dripping from her mouth made you smile. “This is the moment, Pope.” You spoke slowly to him while keeping your eyes on Lena. “This is the moment we pocket.” 

Pope nodded, even though you didn’t see it. In his head, though, he already pocketed a lot of moments from today. This was just the cherry on top. 

Lena felt like the only thing you ever needed. The only thing either of you ever needed. 

Present Day - The Day After Baz’s Death - 6:03AM

Pope didn’t bother knocking, he used his key to let himself in through Baz’s front door. It was still early, he wasn’t expecting anyone to be awake, that’s why he brought breakfast and coffee, knowing there probably wasn’t anything of note in Baz’s fridge. 

To his surprise, that fridge was currently being raided by who he immediately could tell was a cop. It didn’t take long for it to click in his head that it was Travis Callahan. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Oh shit, hey Pope.” The man turned around startled. “Didn’t they tell you to never scare a cop,” he laughed as he placed the orange juice down on the table, opening the carton and not bothering to get a glass just sipping direct from the open spout. 

Pope didn’t laugh, just glared in disgust. “No.” 

“Oh nice, you brought breakfast,” Travis pointed to the brown bag in Pope’s hand. 

“For Doc and Lena.” Pope clarified.

“Oh yea, I think they’re still asleep,” Travis pointed to Lena’s room. 

“You slept here?” The question fired off rapidly from Pope.

“On the couch, I don’t think she wanted to be alone,” the man had turned to grab one of the boxes of cereal on the counter. 

“The couch?” Pope didn’t understand. 

“Yea, I think Doc’s in Lena’s room. Haven’t checked. But I didn’t check the bedroom either.” Travis wasn’t looking at Pope anymore.

Pope didn’t give this conversation any more attention, he just walked down the hall to the back bedroom where he saw the bed was untouched, still made and unslept in. As he turned around he saw the discarded clothes that trailed from the bathroom to the outdoor shower and that told him all he needed to know. With a few more steps, he was in Lena’s room. Immediately seeing her body cuddled into yours as both of you let out heavy breaths that were bordering snores. 

He stared at you for a few minutes, wishing that he could have just lived in that moment forever, nothing else. No memories of before and no idea of memories to come, just both you and Lena at peace. 

But he knew it couldn’t last, he leaned over and placed his hand on your shoulder to shake you awake. You startled, grabbing his forearm harshly, ready to fight, but when you weren’t met with force, you loosened your grip. 

“Scared the hell out of me.” You groggily cleaned your eyes and carefully climbed over Lena. Pope recognized your clothes, he hated to admit a slight feeling of relief that they didn’t belong to the asshole in the kitchen. It made whatever happened between you and the cop feel calculated and not special.  “What are you doing here?” 

“I brought breakfast,” Pope responded.

“I’m gonna let her sleep in a little bit, I don’t think she should go to school today, maybe in a couple days.” You were pointing towards her other door, the one littered in stickers that would open into the living room and kitchen versus the hallway. Pope walked out first, his eyes connecting with Officer Dickhead again as he waited for you to realize. 

“Um, look about last night,” you started to say when you heard Travis’s voice clear. 

“Yea about it,” he had the orange juice carton gripped in his hand again. 

Your head shot over to him. “What the fuck are you doing here?” 

“I didn’t think you should be alone, who knows who killed your brother, and if they’d come back here and try and take you or Lena out next.” It was so disturbing how he’d just blurt things out without thought.

“Travis, I told you to leave last night.” You didn’t care about his reasoning for being here.

“Relax, I slept on the couch, I recorded Dexter’s Lab this morning too while I was watching it, for Lena.” He pointed to the TV. 

“You hear that? He recorded a cartoon for her.” Pope was getting some twisted form of enjoyment out of this.  

“Travis, get out.” You moved toward him now, grabbing the orange juice for him forcefully. 

“Hey come on, I had fun last night, don’t be like this.” He lifted his arms up. 

“Travis, leave.” You threw the carton into the sink, your way of trying to prove you weren’t in the mood for his grovelling.

“Come on, Dockie.” He pleased.

“Don’t fucking call me that.” It took everything in you not to punch his smug face. “Look, let’s not make this more than what it is, please just leave.” You took a breath trying to remain as calm as you could. 

Pope just stood there watching, waiting for it to escalate so he could intervene but knowing based on the three of yours conversation yesterday he would let you give him the okay to step in. 

“Alright, I’ll call you later.” Travis was leaving and while you wanted to tell him not to bother, you were ultimately winning since he was leaving. 

As you locked the door behind him, you turned back to the kitchen and started straightening up. Tossing the dry cereal Officer Asshole poured into the garbage, along with the orange juice. Wiping down the counters, organizing the area. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked Pope as you moved around the kitchen. 

“You told me that Lena wanted to stay with both of us,” Pope answered. The sentence didn’t have a lot of context. But it clicked in your head he was trying to keep the appearance that he stayed over for Lena.

“We should talk about how we’re going to do this, after last night I don’t know if you sleeping here or my place makes sense. I don’t want to confuse her,” that wasn’t what you meant, you didn’t want to confuse you. 

“Yea, we can figure it out.” Pope nodded, being entirely too gracious about everything right now. 

“I’ve run out of ways to fix this, Pope.” You slammed your hands on the tiled breakfast bar. 

“Fix what? What is there to fix?” Pope questioned. 

“Us!” Your voice hitched. 

“What about us?” Pope stepped closer, the counter between both of you. His question was probably misunderstood by you but the fact he couldn’t pick up on the fact that yours and his relationship just completely altered last night did something to your feelings. 

“You know what, just forget it.” You changed your tone and shook your head. 

“Forget what?” Another question you probably misunderstood but this one you couldn’t hide your reaction. 

“Jesus Christ, the questions, the questions!” You raised your hands. “Forget everything! Forget everything that happened we’ll just go back to whatever the fuck it was before this. You stare, I say nothing. Forget I said anything.” You gave him the answer you thought he wanted. 

“You said you loved me.” Pope didn’t change his tone. 

“What do you want?” Your voice practically shrieked. “You say you can’t love me the way I want, and now you can’t forget what I said, fine then here hold this line, I thought I loved you but I don’t. I don’t love you. I hate you. I hate what you fucking do to me. I hate what you make me feel because it's pointless. It's useless. It’s for nothing. And it’s not even your fault, this was my fate from the beginning. Baz wasn’t supposed to make it through Ray’s beatings. He was supposed to die a lot earlier, I was always meant to be alone. This—this is just fate catching up to me. Loneliness is seeped into my fucking DNA, it’s imprinted into my genetic fucking code. I’ll raise Lena and she’ll come drop off boxed fucking wine for me and cat food while I sit on a fucking couch too drunk off my ass to care. Baz gets death while I get to have everything in me die inside while I’m still alive.” 

The words echoed in you, Pope’s eyes gave nothing away as to what he was thinking. You stood there, staring at him. Both of you staying silent, and yet it got too loud for you. You didn’t bother staying in the kitchen, you barreled past him and plopped down on the steps on the front porch. As you did, you were reminded of the last time you talked to your brother. 

2017 - 2 Days Before Baz’s Death

Sometimes, sitting alone at your place got loud in a really quiet way. It’d make you open the windows, fill the nothingness with something. White noise, the sounds of people laughing outside as they walked by, the waves, maybe a dog barking or a kid laughing. Anything but silence. Sometimes that wasn’t enough, you’d sit on your back porch, which arguably made it worse. It was fully fenced, you couldn’t see anyone, couldn’t hear much either. Something so many people would kill for and the irony was that it was killing you. That’d leave you to talk a walk along The Strand. You’d bring a pack of cigarettes, maybe a glass of wine if you knew you’d be out for a while. Tonight, the walk was long, you ended up walking down to Baz’s. You weren’t sure if the looks you got as you strolled were because your face was beaten to shit, bruised and battered but healing from getting attacked by Javi and his crew a little over a week ago, or because you had a full glass of wine in your hand. The thing with recovering from the injuries you had, it started to look a lot worse before it looked better. Hence the alcohol. 

Baz’s front porch was arguably one of your favorite places. It had everything. The noise, the people, the waves. You plopped down on the steps, glass now pretty empty as you did. You mindlessly played with the strings of your hoodie as you watched it all, picking up pieces of conversations of the people that passed. 

Someone talking about their weekend dinner plans, a group of girls talking about one of their exes, another group singing a song together, a group of guys betting on some sports thing on their phone. 

You heard the door open behind you but didn’t bother looking, you knew it’d be someone familiar. 

As you felt someone sit down next to you, you then heard the sound of your wine glass being filled. Looking up, Baz had plopped down next to you, the UCSD hoodie you gave him on and a glass of red wine tipped as he poured the remainder of it into your glass. Following that, he brought his beer towards the rim of your glass and clinked them together. 

At the sound you both pulled away and brought the glasses up to sip from. 

The two of you sat there, people watching. 

Some conversations were tough, a woman on the phone with her sister talking about hospice care for their mother, a couple who had been arguing about something a lot bigger than both of them, two young siblings calling each other stupid. But then there were the others, the parents who pulled those same siblings apart and made them apologize immediately. The siblings were skipping down the sidewalk in seconds like nothing happened. Then there was the couple who had just gotten engaged, an older gentleman who was linked arm and arm with someone close to his age and said he had a really good first date with her. 

“You ever think about what life should’ve been?” Baz’s voice cut through all of it. 

You didn’t answer right away, you thought about his question for a bit. 

“I do,” you nodded, taking a sip of the wine. “Do you?” 

“Never used to, I think I was so used to just trying to survive the day.” He let out a sigh. 

“But now?” Your eyes jumped over to him. 

“I think life should’ve been a lot different.” He smirked. 

“I think if life had it’s way we’d be rotting in a double wide right now,” you scoffed. 

“I should’ve gotten us out earlier.” Baz had never been this sentimental before and it made you weary. 

“Why are you saying this?” The frown on your face mixed with you straightening your back was enough to show Baz you were concerned. 

“Relax, I’m not jumping off any buildings,” he let out a chuckle. “I just mean, I should have found a different way for us, bringing us to Smurf’s, it was the worst thing I could have done.” 

“We were kids Baz, anything was better than getting beaten to pulp,” you tried to brush him off. 

“She’s been keeping money from us,” Baz admitted. 

“From you,” you corrected him. “I get my percentage and keep it pushing.” It was true, maybe that was the only benefit of your deal with Smurf, you didn’t feel like there was anything being hidden, you had a deal that worked and stuck with it. 

“I’m leaving for Mexico, with Lena and Lucy.” There was the real thing he had been trying to get at this whole time. 

“To see what some of that should’ve been life has for you?” You let your eyes train back on the horizon. 

“Something like that,” he shrugged, finishing his beer now. “I’m sorry about the hospital job.” 

Those were words that you never expected to hear from your brother, so when your head snapped to see if he was just being a dick, your eyes went wide to be met with a beyond serious Baz. 

His eyes were already on you when he spoke the apology, they were low, almost disappointed in himself. 

“Smurf wanted to bring you in, but I told her no, that I didn’t want to fuck up what you had. I wasn’t supposed to use your badge. I was in the breakroom, I was talking to that nurse that always talks about her parakeets and thought I was grabbing her badge but I guess you left your jacket in there.” 

“I gave her my sweatshirt that morning and didn’t realize I didn’t take off my ID, I was charting for the rest of the day so I never noticed,” you gave him context.

“By the time I realized it was yours, it was too late,” Baz was still looking at you. “I didn’t mean to fuck up your should’ve been.” 

You felt your throat get tense, your eyes got heavy as well. “My should’ve been was always fucked.” 

“Come to Mexico with us,” Baz asked like he had been waiting for the right time for the opportunity to ask you to come up. 

With a deep sigh, a little laugh as well, you looked back at the horizon. “I—I don’t know.” 

“You could get your license down there, I looked it up. Lena would be happy to have you close. You could meet someone, get married, have a kid,” he shrugged. 

“You got it all figured out, huh?” You held back a smile as you looked back at him. It was incredibly nice that he looked into it, that he thought about you. But there was a lot holding you back from that too. Well, maybe not a lot. But one thing that you held onto, that always felt like a possibility. 

“Maybe Pope would move down after he’s off probation,” Baz could read your mind sometimes. 

“I don’t know if Pope is apart of my should’ve been,” you answered. 

Baz let out a light laugh. “Pope is the biggest should’ve been in your life next to being a doctor.” 

You just gave him a look. 

“You and him are written in the stars. He doesn’t just watch you, Dockie. He looks for you. When you walk into a room I feel like I can hear his heart practically jump through his skin.” Baz was now looking out at the horizon. “And you well, you’ve pined after him for years.”

You stayed silent, not really sure what to say to that. 

“You two are so different and yet so fucking similar.” He laughed. “If you don’t want to come to Mexico, I get it. But either way, you should leave. Go do something for you for once.” 

You handed him your now empty wine glass and stood up, pulling the hood of your sweatshirt up over your head. “Thanks for the wine.” 

“Anytime.” He stayed sitting on the stairs. 

You leaned down, placing a quick peck on his temple, it was usually what he did to you, and the action made him audibly laugh. 

Turning, you skipped down the steps, opened the gate and took a few steps down the sidewalk before turning around and looking at him. 

“I’ll think about Mexico,” you nodded. “I just need some time to think about my should’ve been.” 

Baz nodded. 

“And thanks, for the apology,” you waved your hand awkwardly. 

“Love you, Dockie.” Baz was standing up to go back inside his house. 

Nodding, you continued to take a few steps, this time backwards. “Love you too, big brother.” 

That was the last conversation you had with Baz. He was shot two days later.

 Present Day - The Day After Baz’s Death - 6:45AM

It got too loud inside and all you and Pope were doing was staring at each other for minutes. But the windows had been closed, the sliding door was latched and locked, most of the curtains were pulled down too, and those caught a lot of the noise pollution too. It was so silent that your head felt like it was in the middle of a 500 person crowd. Without a second thought, you made a run for the front door. Plopping down on the steps of the porch, you ran your hands over your face. Every thought, every mocking voice you had on repeat in your head suddenly disappeared. The waves filled the background, it was morning so The Strand was busy. There were surfers talking about their morning waves. Kids with backpacks making their way to school, you were able to pick up a few pieces of gossip. Hailey was sleeping with Mike, Ben had gotten a decent weed plug. There was the neighbor who talked to her daffodils. All of it brought you a comfort that you had been craving. 

You heard the footsteps before hearing the door. You knew his steps better than anyones. He was next to you in a matter of seconds, a lukewarm cup of coffee in his hand that he was handing over as he sat down next to you. 

“You ever think about what life should’ve been?” The question rolled off your tongue before you even took a sip. 

Pope didn’t answer. 

“I do. Well, I have been. Lately.” You answered it in hopes Pope would eventually give you his answer. 

“I used to imagine what life could’ve been like for us. To help me sleep.” Pope was looking down at his hands. 

“For you and Julia?” You lifted your head to look over at him. 

“For me and Julia, for you and Baz, for Deran and Craig, for you and me,” Pope answered. 

“Could’ve and should’ve are different.” You were trying to make a point. 

“Yeah,” he let that one word hang in the air a bit before continuing, “they’re different.” He rubbed the back of his knuckles like he was trying to erase something only he could see. 

You waited for more, knowing it was highly unlikely he’d give that to you. But to your shock, he looked up from his hands, not exactly at you, but past you. Like he was watching the past crawl back onto this porch with you. 

“But it should’ve been different.” 

“It can be different.” There you were again. Pleading with him. While he was dredging up the past you were pulling for your future.

“If there’s a version of our lives where we got away from this, from Smurf… I don’t think I ever made it there. Not even in my head.” Pope’s eyes were filled with tears and suddenly you got it. 

He was punishing himself. 

You were collateral damage in that. Or maybe, you made yourself collateral damage. 

“In my head, our should’ve been exists. It’s here, in front of us–a reality now. A real possibility. And when you’re ready I’ll be here,” your waterline pooled with water, tears didn’t fall but they were close to it. 

Pope kept quiet, the silence stretching between you two. It was weighted, similar to the tension that built between you both for years, except that was weighted in what could’ve been. This? This was weighted in what should’ve been. 

Your words hurt more than they healed. He nodded almost subtly, like he wasn’t agreeing or disagreeing with you, just acknowledging that he heard you. Then, he stood up, his body casting a shadow over you, he moved quickly, like he knew it was wrong in his head but this was something he needed to do. He placed a kiss on the left side of your face, a quick peck but you felt the linger of it even as he pulled away. 

And despite the quick movement of that, as he walked away he did that slowly, gradually, as if not to crack the fragile thing you had hanging between you still. 

He got to the opposite side of the gate before pausing and looking just slightly over his shoulder. 

“I don’t know how to live in that version.” He awkwardly moved his neck, like the next words were hard for him to admit to. “But I wish I did.”

Dividers by @realitycanbewhateveridesire ♥️ 🍺 Animal Kingdom Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 @princesssunderworld  (let me know if you'd like to be added!)

[rikiislvr]

♥︎necklace (5) - nishimura riki

read part 1-4 to understand the plot better! (on my masterlist)

pairing: nishimura riki x afab!reader

so much money.

that was far out of your budget. you were gonna have to work 10x more than usual the moment you came back. but it was worth it right?

you can go support him. and watch him perform with your own eyes.

this entire day you’ve been out shopping, you had to catch your flight tonight since the performance was literally tomorrow.

you finally got your hands on your outfit you were gonna wear to the concert, you hurried home, packing anything else that was necessary,

making sure to alarm your parents before you just randomly left to korea,

and just like that. you were now on your flight to korea, sitting in the seat looking out the window, watching the clouds pass by the night sky, you fiddled with your hands…

was this a good idea?

of course it was but.. would he get mad at you for just randomly showing up with no word? no.. he’ll be happy to see you.

you just hoped it wasn’t too much of a push.

you sighed and reclined your chair, closing your eyes, listening to the soft sounds from the plane as you fell asleep, drowning out all your thoughts.

-

you woke up to the sound of the pilot on the speakers, alarming the passengers that the plane will be landing in 10 minutes. you rub your eyes and sat up.

you check your phone, nothing much but… one message caught your eye. it was from niki.

“wish you were here to see me perform :)”

underneath it says it was sent with a translator, which made you giggle how he put so much effort to talk to you even if it wasn’t in a language he knew well.

but little did he know, you were landing in korea right now.

you fiddle with his necklace that laid on your collarbones, smiling to yourself in excitement.

you weren’t sure why he brought so much happiness out of you. he was a idol who had millions of fans and somehow…

you’re the lucky one?

the plane began to land, and once it came to a full stop, passengers clapped and began to gather their things.

you stood up and grabbed your suitcase from the department above your seat and made your way off the plane.

you were so intrigued by the difference here in korea, it was so beautiful and everything looked so organized.

you caught a taxi, using a voice translator on your phone to tell the driver where your hotel was located before he drove off.

only thing on your mind was tonight. you were too excited to see him again.

on the other hand, niki was a bit down,

him and the group were practicing on the stage they were performing on later, but niki stepped out and sat on the side, sighing before fiddling with your necklace around his neck.

jake noticed this and walked over, furrowing his eyebrows, “is that hers?” he asks in korean, niki looks up and nodded softly.

jake chuckled and sat beside him. “you really like her huh?”

niki sighed and ran his finger through his hair, he didn’t reply, and jake took that as his answer, “what’s on your mind? you seem stressed? is it the concert?” jake asks,

niki shook his head, “i don’t know hyung.. i wish i could see her again.” niki shrugged, jake felt empathy, he never seen niki like this for a girl, because niki never ever spoke about a girl before, so this was new behavior.

“let’s do good today, maybe she’ll be watching?” jake tried to cheer him up, niki tilt his head, pointing to the crowd, jake chuckled, “no- i meant like… watching it online or something. she’ll want to see you do your best right?”

niki sighed and nod, jake stood back up and pulled him up to his feet to continue practicing.

meanwhile, you were getting settled into your hotel, it was so nice and organized, you relaxed for a bit before you started to get ready for the concert, putting on the outfit you put together, styling your hair, perfecting your makeup, you were almost done until you got a message.

you checked your phone, seeing niki’s name popping up at the top of your phone, making you smile instantly.

you opened the dm, seeing niki texted you, “one more hour….” with a emoji that quite literally detected his nervousness. you giggled softly and replied,

“you’re gonna do great!” hoping to reassure him, based off the performances you’ve watched of him, he was an amazing dancer.

you so badly wanted to tell him you’d be in the crowd, but you decided to keep that a secret for a little longer.

niki smiled at his phone before he was called by his leader to began getting ready, he put his phone away to get himself ready for the concert.

just like you were.

a/n: heeeeey guys it’s been so so long & im so sorry for the wait but i did miss you all! :( lmk if u guys like where the plot is going & if i should continue !!

taglist: @certified-ni-ki-lover @noblub-4ulolz @yourmyst4r @vixialuvs @ni-ki-ismyluv @judeduartewannabe @soobs-things @en-chantedtomeetyou @definitelynotherr @heyniki @wntersm @geniejunn @pkjay @baevsxii @k1ttylvr @geniejunn @pkjay @chaevibes @jiyeons-closet @rii7eis7 @jenscifer