***MDNI - 18+ ONLY - EXPLICIT CONTENT**
SERIES:
18+ | TEACH ME (or Abbot x Reader go to a med conference)
You and Dr. Jack Abbot have been circling each other in the ED for a few years now. Since you're his star resident, he can't seem to cross the line without feeling like he's pressuring you. Until you're both out of town at a med conference in California and you decide to make the first move. Hey Siri - play Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol. only on Ao3
wc: 21.3 (so far) | chapters: 5/7
18+ | ACROSS THE HATOSYVERSE
You’ve unwittingly engineered the technology that’s now being used to erase all variants in the Hatosyverse, and there’s only one way to save them. hey I just met you / and this is crazy! / i’m here to save you-/ so fuck me, baby
wc: 45.2k | chapters: 12/12 only on Ao3
(a delightfully smutty round robin w/ @thedivinegirlyp0p, @insperashen, @the-whorrigan, @bexcellentadventures + more)
ONE SHOTS:
18+ | I'VE JUST SEEN A FACE (collab w/ @atotallynormalfanofhats)
During a shift handover at PTMC, Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch and Dr. Jack Abbot are shaken by a trauma patient brought into the ED. fallin' yes, I am fallin' and she keeps callin' me back again
wc: 4.5k | also on Ao3
18+ | DARE YOU TO MOVE
What starts as a playful back 'n' forth for Dr. Jack Abbot x Reader escalates to something different.
wc: 1.5k | also on Ao3
DRABBLES:
WE COULD PLANT A HOUSE, WE COULD BUILD A TREE
foster dad Pope Cody
the happily-ever-after that Pope Cody deserves.
WOULD YOU STILL LOVE ME IF I WAS A WORM
so you've turned into a worm -
how do your Hatosy character boyfriends react?
feat - Pope Cody, Titus Danforth, Jack Abbot
DIRTY DANCING WITH POPE CODY
after a long day in the summer sun-
you cuddle up on the couch w/ your bf Pope Cody
i’ve had the time of my life— no, I never felt this way before
BIRTHDAY BREAKFAST FOR ANDREW 'POPE' CODY
a fun writing exercise incorporating 5 words into the drabble:
flexing - asphalt - potato - phlebotomist - slippers (FAPPS lol)
you wake up early to make your bf Pope Cody birthday brekkie
THE ONE WITH THE FRIENDYOULOVE
another writing exercise - this time with the rules of The Good Place.
2026 | dominowaverly — do NOT feed any part of this work or any of the authors' work into any AI tool for any reason whatsoever. FUCK AI for real.
My favourite interview of Noah Wyle is when he, after a small monologue about what a talented actor Shawn Hatosy is, proceeds to low-key roast him for being too jacked to reach his own shoulder with a Q-Tip.
wc: 4.3k
mdni! cw/notes: childhood trauma, explicit sex, fingering, oral, p in v, pregnancy, the usual pope fanfic stuff, no doves anywhere, fix it fic, baz, smurf, canon divergence, reader insert, no use of y/n
Chapter One Can I Stay | Chapter Two Won't Let Me Go
-----
Your watch vibrates one morning. It’s not your alarm. Too early. It’s a phone call from an unsaved number but an area code you recognize. Andrew sleeps so deeply by your side these nights that he doesn’t even wake when you slip out of bed. His fight or flight is finally switched off.
You take the phone down the hall to the living room and sit on the couch you bought together. Three payments left. You never asked how much money he had skimmed off the top when the two of you left. There was always enough and you got the sense that there was more, but you know this emergency fund is his peace of mind.
“Deran, you okay?” you answer low.
You’ve kept in touch over the years. Just enough to make sure you receive this phone call when the time comes. He had been the best of The Cody Brothers to you when you were all together. When you left, he thanked you for getting Andrew out.
Deran tells you that Smurf is gone. In the end, something from within her own body got her. She fought against the cancer, but a secondary infection pushed her over the edge. She couldn’t send her sons after it. She died alone in the hospital where Andrew almost lost his life for her.
“We wanna come and tell Pope in person, if that’s okay with you.”
You smile realizing he has defaulted to asking the matriarch for permission.
Everything changes and nothing changes.
“I want to check in with him first, ya know? Everybody wants to see us?” You know that’s not the case.
“Just me and Craig. Baz and J… won’t.”
“Probably better anyway. It’s no ‘Cody Compound’, but there’s a basement with a pullout, and a bedroom that’s empty for now.”
“For now, huh?” He catches on immediately.
“Yeah. Andrew doesn’t know yet. He worries too much in the beginning. He worries too much the whole time.”
“Well, congrats..”
“Thanks. Thanks for checking first. You doing alright?”
“Yeah. It’s kind of… a fucking relief. You know what I mean.”
“I do. I’ll talk to him and we’ll let you know.”
“‘K.”
You hang up and creep back to the bedroom, slipping into bed up against Andrew’s chest. This time he stirs, instinctively putting an arm over you and rubbing your stomach. You swear he knows.
Like a dog, he knows.
You quickly fall asleep just as deeply as Andrew is behind you. It’s the deep rest of knowing there will never be a knife to your throats again.
-----
When you wake with your alarm, you make your way to the kitchen where Andrew is already two coffees deep and sliding your breakfast burrito into your plate. The smell of the eggs makes your nose wrinkle but you pick at it.
“Purple scrubs today?”
“It’s World Prematurity Day,” you answer. “Everyone in the office will be in purple.”
“Looks like we have to pick out a purple dress for you, Jules,” he coos at the preschooler, sticky with pancake syrup. “Gotta match Mommy.”
“You too?” you tease.
“That shirt is lavender. I’ve told you that.” He nudges you with his elbow and tips his chin to ask for a kiss. You refuse his cheek only wanting your lips on his.
“Sure it is.” Hot coffee rolls over your tongue. The decision taps its foot in front of you demanding your attention. Keeping just one secret from him is torture; you cannot keep two. Your bodies touch as you stand with him at the counter.
“So, umm, Deran called early this morning.”
Andrew pauses halfway through filling a small, pink Thermos with apple juice. It's always cut with water because he’s worried about his little girl’s teeth. He looks genuinely confused.
“Craig and Deran want to see us.” You meet his eye line.
He gets that far away look in his eyes again. The Pope Stare.
He knows. Like a dog, he knows.
Bert and Finley bark to come back inside, calling him back to the present. Jules hops out of her chair to let them in. They shake the rain off their fur and she squeals.
“Jules, honey, please feed them breakfast?” Across the room she counts out two perfect scoops of kibble per bowl just like her daddy taught her. Your eyes don’t stop scanning his face.
“Is…” The way his jaw hardens and his brow knits together finishes the question. Your tight nod answers it.
The two of you are fluent in the language parents speak behind their children’s backs.
You rub his forearm in hopes of relaxing his hands.
“It’s going to be fine. They just want to tell you brother to brother.”
You would never leave him wondering. Forcing him to process in front of his brothers would be cruel.
You put your hand on his chest to remind him to check in with himself.
In for 4
Hold for 7
Out for 8
He finds anger. He finds grief. You see it spread.
“It’s been a long time.” You run your fingers through his curls. The salt and pepper glitters in the morning sun.
“You’ll be home today, right? I’ll come back for my lunch break.” The dark clouds out the window threaten to burst.
“Yep. Had to cancel three appointments and the park because of the rain.” The tension in his jaw releases slightly.
“Ouch.” You wince.
“Already rebooked. They were regulars. They know how long the waitlist is.”
He takes his phone out of pocket and hands it to you. You snatch his readers out of his hair so you can check his schedule.
“Ten weeks! That’s crazy! You’re booked out further than I am.” You brush Jules’ hair and start to work on her space-buns. “Maybe it’s time to finally sell the hatchback. No one has driven her in years and then you can work in the garage when it rains. You can do carseat installations too.”
His mouth is full but he taps his temple and nods.
Andrew had started out working on cars in your driveway and it grew into a mobile detailing business. By now he’s been inside the personal vehicle of nearly every cop in the county. This amuses you to no end. Glossy new 4x6 cards listing his services sit in a box on the counter.
“I still say you should have put your picture on these,” you say as you take a handful for your waiting room. “The ladies would love it.”
“Mmm, the husbands wouldn’t let me on the property” he quips, wiping the counter.
“You’re really not as scary as you think you are.”
“I meant I’m too handsome.”
The hair tie snaps and stings your wrist.
“Shit!”
Jules gasps. “Mommy said a bad word!”
“Yes, she fucking did,” Andrew calls back to her. You throw him an exasperated look and finish the loop.
“Tattletale!” You tickle her ribs.
The dogs circle Andrew, begging for leftover pancakes.
“I’m thinking French onion tonight.”
“Ooooh, you are too handsome!” you kiss his jaw and you refill your mug with his logo printed on it.
“You’ve been whispering ‘soup season’ in my ear when I’m falling asleep. It started to feel like a threat.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Ok! I’m heading in. Four newborn visits in a row.”
“Babies?” Jules asks excitedly.
“Tiny babies,” you answer, kissing the top of her head.
You make your way back around the kitchen island to Andrew. He pulls you so tightly to his body that your back cracks just a little. He kisses you goodbye. It’s a kiss that needs reassurance. You give it.
“12:30. 12:45 the latest.” You smooth the lines between his brows. “Put these away- there’s nothing to worry about.”
He gives your ass a squeeze as you turn.
You dodge the raindrops and get into your car parked next to his truck. Your name followed by NP comes second on the door of the small pediatric practice.
At home, Andrew finishes packing Jules’ lunchbox and carefully clicks his daughter into the car seat, careful not to pinch her legs.
“What do we listen to this morning, princess?”
“The California song by The Peppers!”
“Ehh, Mommy says you’re not allowed to listen to that one anymore.” His eyes crinkle behind his Ray-Bans.
He’s sitting on the front porch when you come home. As you pull up you can see he’s dug out an old, black hoodie. One of the last pieces of Oceanside that remain. Lemon and ice swirl in his glass.
He stands as you make your way down the slate pathway he laid in the lawn. Chalk drawings melt away with the rain. The porch shelters you both from the downpour. Andrew pulls you close to kiss your temple. You take the glass from his finger tips and steal a sip.
“I want to leave it out here.” He gestures toward the gunmetal gray beams beneath his feet. This feels like the shower-after-a-job ritual. “Tell me.”
First, you explain keeping in touch with Deran.
He’s openly pissed but understands why you decided it was for the best. He knows you protect him as much as he protects you.
You relay the news word for word. His eyes sting but don’t spill. Unfortunately, there are a lot of questions you can’t answer for him. They have to wait.
He turns and walks to the edge of the porch where he can see the water. He’s quiet.
“Andy, we can just call them. Or we can do nothing. None of this needs you.”
His chest heaves once. Twice. “Maybe… maybe we go out there.”
He’s preserving his home. His territory.
“We could do that. We have time to decide.” You wait for his response.
He rolls his neck and nods before he turns and walks back to you.
“I have you… the two of you. That’s the ballgame.” Your words have been an affirmation of his for years. He spins the tungsten ring on his finger. Tears blur your vision for just a moment. He pushes the front door open.
“We leave it out here,” you confirm.
He follows you into the house. The air immediately changes when the door clicks shut.
Andrew pulls the glass out of your hand. It clinks on the side table next to his keys. He holds your face in his hands and rubs the tip of his nose against yours.
“Come, let me claim you,” he whispers, eyes closed. It’s a line he’s perfected over years of seeking security in your touch. In your body. One thing has never changed- he processes his feelings physically.
“Jesus, Andrew…” you moan. His effect on you never weakens.
His kiss is slow and open. It's one of your favorite flavors of him. One hand weaves into your hair, gently pulling to expose your neck. His lips work their way down your throat to as much of your collarbone as your v-neck allows. You press your face into the shoulder of his hoodie. He’s been working out and his musk washes over you like a spell. It’s clean and warm. It’s taking over.
You feel Andrew’s hands start to work your shirt up your torso while his pelvis pushes you farther into the house. You’re not making it upstairs.
Paper clips and pens scatter out of the pockets as he pulls the shirt over your head. You toe off your shoes and kick them toward the wall. Now that he’s granted access, he licks down your collarbone and bites down on your shoulder and sucks your skin between his teeth.
Andrew continues to walk you backwards as he unclasps your bra and drops it behind him.
Your achilles hits the bottom step. He guides you down to the landing. Your bottoms disappear while he sucks lightly on your neck. The cords from his sweatshirt brush your nipples as he sits back on his calves reminding you that he’s still fully clothed.
“You…”
“Shut up.” His tone is light and slightly patronizing. He doesn’t break eye contact as he lowers between your legs.
He is low and close but not touching you except for his hands on the outsides of your thighs.
You hate when he does this. You love when he does this.
Your pink nails draw lines in the carpet. Your legs fidget, rocking on your ankles.
“My heart rate is approaching levels of concern here,” you huff.
“You think if I suck your soul out of your body your BPM will go down?” His finger tips brush up and down on your thighs causing you to shiver.
“Worth a try…” your hips involuntarily hitch up.
His shoulders dip just a little farther… and he kisses you.
It’s reckless.
It’s hungry.
It’s for him.
It’s exactly how he kisses your mouth. Your back is already arching, pushing you on to his tongue. Your enthusiasm for him goes straight to his head.
You rake through his curls as he devours you. His rhythm is brutal not because it’s too fast for you, but because it’s a slow burn. He’s savoring. You’re his comfort food. He whimpers at the taste.
“Mmmmph… more…” you whine.
He chuckles knowing you have little to no ability to use words right now and slides two fingers into you. No time is wasted before he’s curling his fingers into the spot only he can reach. You grind down on his face and he revels in the ecstasy he pulls out of you.
The sensation he’s aiming for begins to flood your body. Your thighs clamp around his head so tightly you’re sure he can’t breathe. It only makes him press harder.
You reach down to squeeze his shoulder. He keeps his fingers working, certain that you’re trying to encourage him.
“Mmm… nnnnno… nooooo… I…” you squeeze harder to get your point across as that dirty sound he loves comes out of you.
“Oh! I got you.”
He momentarily leaves your clit unattended to pull the hoodie over his head. He folds it like it’s going on display in Macy’s and places it on the step under your ass.
“Okay, honey. Let go. Let me feel you. I want it.”
His fingers pick up pace and pressure to push you over the edge. The relief is overwhelming. It’s physical. It’s mental. It’s splinters of fear embedded within you for years finally leaving your body. Your hand grasps for his on your thigh. His sweatshirt collects the mix of the two of you that spills over when you come on his tongue.
He continues to kiss your over stimulated clit gently as you come down from the high, working you through the last waves of it. Lightheadedness has you swaying as you sit back up.
“I was sure you’d had me on every surface in this house but…” You try to catch your breath.
“Couldn’t wait any longer.” He tugs on your leg and you scramble down the bottom two stairs. He lets you knock him over and pin him to the floor. Shirtless, his scent is even stronger. Your hips instinctively rut against his stomach.
“I want you on top of me… mmmph...” The tone is pure filth.
“You sure, honey? You look like you’re enjoying yourself where you are.”
“Please… your weight on me… need it.”
“Alright, ready?” He clutches you tightly and jerks his head left before rolling you on your back and caging you in with his arms.
“I love these but get them off!” You pull his grey sweats down and glimpse his purple boxer briefs. “Aww, you stayed on theme!”
“For you.” As if everything he does isn’t already all for you.
Some small part of him still can’t believe you’re his. That after all these hands did, you want them on your body.
You uprooted your life for him- to save him. You gave him your name. Gave him a child. Gave him space to become whoever he wanted to be. He will never stop dropping to his knees to thank you.
The years. The trust. The life built from the ground up. They all add up to an intimacy neither of you can explain. It’s a survival skill. An oath. Shelter.
You know each other.
Like the recipe slowly perfected.
Andrew slots himself between your legs and slowly slides himself back and forth on your clit. It’s a move he learned drives you wild on your first weekend away.
Like the song he plays in the kitchen every morning.
You tell him you love him. He needs to hear it often in your bright, breathless voice.
Like the book you read every autumn.
He lifts your right leg over his shoulder. The change of angle that he knows sends you farther into orbit.
Like quiet coffee together on the porch every Sunday morning.
He presses his upper body against you; giving and taking as much skin as he can. His kiss floats over your lips when he pulls his hips back and buries himself in you.
In a flash, the connection weakens.
He’s restrained. Holding back. Careful.
His eyes are unfocused over your shoulder, beginning to gloss over.
“Hey, come back?” You try to break into his line of sight.
He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He shuts them and turns his head to the side.
“Andrew, eyes on me.” Your hand lays over his heart. His muscles flexing under your palm distract you for a fleeting moment. “Be here.”
“Honey, I just…” No more words come out. His lips press into a tight line. Hot tears scatter on your neck.
“It’s only us. It’s only ever us.” You press your hand harder to his chest. Your nails leave small crescents behind.
“I love you. I need you.” His eyes finally meet yours again.
“You have me!”
You are seen. He is known.
Andrew stifles one cry with your mouth. Present again in his body, allowing his mind to still. He shakes his head as if he can physically banish any thoughts that aren’t of you.
Bliss and surrender push him deeper into you. Halfmoons on his arms match those on his chest as he fills you up. As he claims you.
His final sigh anchors you both in each other. In the only thing that matters.
-----
He pulls clean shorts out of the laundry basket while you search for your clothes and duck into the bathroom. Bert and Finley hear the fridge open and lazily make their way down the stairs from Jules’ room. When you make it into the kitchen you see lunch is already packed up.
“You knew we wouldn’t have time to eat.” You shake your head.
“I knew you wouldn’t.” He bites his lip and pulls a few extra snacks out of the refrigerator. “When are you gonna tell me the rest of the news?”
“The rest?”
He starts loading the packages into a tote for you. “You don’t expect me to believe we’re alone in here.” He throws a glance between your hips.
“How long?”
“Probably since before you.”
“How?”
“You taste different.” The head tilt. The eye brows.
If you still knew how to be embarrassed in front of your husband, you would be.
“Tonight or tomorrow- I can’t keep this from her for long.” He walks a small bundle of yellow over to you and places it in your hands. As you unfold it you see it’s a shirt that reads “Big Sister” on the front. Your eyes fill immediately.
“Tomorrow. It’s still new to me.” You press your hand to your stomach.
“July, right?” he asks, “You’re gonna be charming in the heat.”
“I’ll be adding flip flops to the office dress code so you don’t have to tie my shoes again.”
“You loved me on my knees for you everyday.”
“God, I really did,” you sigh.
“Leave Deran’s number before you go?”
You hop up on a stool and scribble the number on the back of an envelope. From your perch you watch him continue his acts of service. As you pull your hair into a fresh ponytail you notice the calendar on the wall has a new entry. Andrew’s small, square handwriting shows a therapy appointment next week. A small ‘B’ in the corner indicates he wants you both to go.
Andrew chooses his boundaries and he usually chooses to bring you inside them.
“Crackers and sour candies are on top, just in case.” He brings over the bag now filled with enough food to feed the entire staff.
“Hmm?”
“You were sick this morning.” He never misses anything. You reach out and pull him in by his waistband. His biceps flex around you. You hate leaving him, even for a few hours. It hurts everyday. He breathes you in. He lets you go.
He carries your bags and the umbrella as you walk to the car. One more kiss sends you off.
-----
The dinner dishes are clean. The dogs snore in a heap on the sofa. Jules decides the line up for the evening- Mommy for bath time, Daddy for story time.
“Which documentary tonight, Andrew? The honeybees or the ocean one?”
The tooth brush buzzes in Jules’ mouth. You make sure she doesn’t miss her back teeth.
“I found one today on red wolves that looks good.” He calls from the next room, taking Jules’ favorite book off her shelf.
“Wolves?”
“They’re endangered and they mate for life.” He eyes the Amelia Bedelia book in his hands. “Fucking idiot,” slips out under his breath.
“Sounds perfect. See you after story time.” Jules takes her goodnight kiss before running to tackle her father onto her bed. He negotiates her down to only two readings while you start the water for a shower.
“You learned a lot in ballet class today but you gotta get back in bed and listen, sweetheart.” There isn’t the slightest hint of annoyance in his tone. He could watch her all night but he’s dying to get you alone.
-----
His foot falls grow louder as he gets closer. He watches your evening routine for a moment. It’s soothing. Your hair is up in the messiest bun imaginable. His white t-shirt skims your body and you spread his favorite lotion on your arms and legs. He interrupts before you can pull his boxers on.
“She’s out cold.” He holds his hand out for you. “Come with me. Family meeting.”
He takes you to the porch, which you expected. He takes you past the porch, which you did not.
The wet stones are freezing on your bare feet. He stops on the biggest one in the middle of the lawn. He pulls you close to him, unintentionally exposing your bare ass to the neighborhood. He doesn’t care. This sleepy block is probably binge watching reruns of some hospital show anyway.
His kiss is warm enough to make you forget you’re practically naked in a November rain storm.
“We leave it out here.”
“The porch you built isn’t good enough anymore?”
Rain drips from his nose to yours.
“The porch doesn’t make your shirt see-through for me.”
You bite your lip and press your chest into him.
“I called. We talked. I think we should go see them. I want them to meet Jules. She’s the best of all of us. It will be good for them.” He sniffs and nods, convincing himself that it’s the right choice. “She should know her family. See the ocean.”
“She should.” The puddle you’re standing in splashes slightly when you shiver.
“Shit! Sorry.”
He scoops you up in a bridal carry and brings you the rest of the way to the garage, finally putting you down on the floor inside. The dry gym padding is a welcome relief. He leans on your old car, ankles crossed in front of him. He’s soaked. His arms glisten. The black t-shirt he wears looks painted on to him. When he runs his fingers through his hair, droplets fly everywhere.
“So… Bryant down the street wants to buy her for his son.” He kicks his heel lightly back into the door of the hatchback. “Just got his permit.”
“You kept busy today.”
“Want to make sure she still runs?” He takes the keys out of his pocket and shakes them in the air between you. As if he didn’t maintain it in perfect condition over the years. Two beach towels sit on the roof. He spreads one on your seat and brings the other around to place on his.
The two of you climb in the front seats. The engine turns over immediately and the CD player picks up right where it left off.
“I guess you don’t need it
I guess you don’t want me to repeat it
But everything I have to give I’ll give to you”
An ancient hair tie sits after the gear shift. You slip it on your wrist. The car is packed to the roof with memories. You take a moment to be grateful for them before you let it go.
“Ok.”
“Ok.”
“So, what’s next, Andrew David?”
He leans across the center console. One hand pulls your face to his. The other traces pink outlines the rain revealed to him.
“The wolves can wait.” his lips graze yours as he speaks. You close the fraction of space between you. The stereo continues to croon as the light times out.
“Listen, when all of this around us will fall over
I tell you what we're gonna do
Hey, you will shelter me, my love
And I, I will shelter you”
———
Thank you, @dominowaverly , for being the best beta reader ever! ✨
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
****MDNI PLEASE****
Summary:
You and Dr. Jack Abbot have been circling each other in the ED for a few years now.
Since you're his star resident, he can't seem to cross the line without feeling like he's pressuring you.
Until you're both out of town at a med conference in California and you decide to make the first move.
First Chapter = slightly slow burn flirtatious build up that's totally worth it, I promise.
Second Chapter = smutty smut smut
Third Chapter = morning after glow, first official date fluff, and a glimpse of smutty smut smut
Fourth Chapter = smutty smut smut
Fifth Chapter = a glimpse at domestic bliss, snap back to reality, smutty smut smut
Hey Siri - play Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol.
2026 | dominowaverly — do NOT feed any part of this work or any of the author's work into any AI tool for any reason whatsoever. FUCK AI for real.
another writing exercise
1k words or less (mine is 561) - using censorship of "bad" words ala
The Good Place: ie: HOLY FORKING SHIRTBALLS
“I’m telling you man, she does this thing with her tongue and—”
“Abbot,” Robby clears his throat, “my nine-year-old nephew is sitting ten feet from us playing with Legos in the living room.”
“Right, sorry.” Jack takes a sip of his beer.
“I mean… continue. But just—y’know—” he nods towards the other room and raises his eyebrows.
“Heard.”
“This was on your date night the other night? I mean, I know you guys get handsy but…”
“It was my first night off in weeks so she was in an absolute feral mood, brother. Pawing at me under the dinner table. I swear before the check came, she snaked her hand up my thigh and grabbed my—” he pauses thinking of the next word carefully, “—clock.”
Robby almost chokes on his beer. “You’re shi—,” he stops himself, following his own ground rules, “—pping me.”
“We slid into the back seat of the Uber and before I could click my seatbelt, she was whispering the filthiest… shirt in my ear. Jack, baby, I need you to fork me. I need to feel your huge cork in my tight,” he bites his lip, ”see-you-next-tuesday.”
Robby turns an alarming shade of red.
“We got back to the apartment. Door barely shut behind us and she was pushing me against the wall, hands on my belt buckle as she dropped to her knees. She yanked down my pants and boxers, my Woody the Woodpecker sprung out and her mouth was on me like she’d been wandering through the desert searching for an oasis and the only source of hydration was deep in my coconuts. Her hands started to massage the inches of my dangling participle that wouldn’t fit in her mouth and I was fighting for my life to not shoot my Twinkie filling prematurely.”
“I will never look at Twinkies the same way ever again…” Robby rubs his face with his hands and sighs.
“And then… Robby. Then she did the thing.”
“The thing?”
“The thing. She held my—” Jack clears his throat, “—uh, cock-a-doodle-do with one hand, slowly swiped her fingertip over my leaking, um, mushroom… cap. She swirled her tongue up my rock hard Private Ryan and flicked my Chandler, y’know - the ‘friend-you-love’?” he smirks, quite proud of himself.
“You lost me…”
“Chandler? Your favorite ‘Friends’ character? The Friend-you-love… friendyoulove?”
Robby still looks confused.
“Friendyoulove—,” Jack whispers, “frenulum.”
“Cheese and rice, Jack,” Robby says, exhaling a laugh. “You’re really reaching with that one.”
Jack rolls his eyes. “Anyway, she fully unhinged her jaw like a boa constrictor and swallowed my Johnsonville Brat like it was Dollar-Dog-Night at PNC Park.”
“Fuuuuuuuuudge me,” Robby responds, impressed with Jack’s commitment to the bit.
Robby’s nephew plods into the kitchen behind Jack who doesn’t see him.
“It was mother lovin’ crazy, brother. I at least managed to get her to the bedroom for a tickle fight before I frosted her flakes.”
“Uncle Robby?”
The words startle Jack who looks over his shoulder. Robby and Jack both sit up a little taller on the stools at the kitchen island, adjusting and fidgeting as if they weren’t just having a filthy conversation.
“Yeah, buddy. What’s up?”
“Can I have a snack?”
“Sure, bud. What do you want?”
“Do you have any Twinkies?”
Jack nearly spits out his drink as Robby shoots him a look and shakes his head.
2026 | dominowaverly — do NOT feed any part of this work or any of the author's work into any AI tool for any reason whatsoever. FUCK AI for real.
pope cody who furrows his brow as you pull away from giving him a little kiss. "what?" you say with a sweet, sympathetic smile. "your kiss was too small," he says with the most adorable twinkle in his eye. "oh," you breathe out a laugh, "well we gotta fix that," you take his face in your hands, pulling him towards you and placing a sweet, lingering kiss on his lips, twisting your fingers into his hair. you pull back and he has a shy smile on his face, "better?" you hum, and he nods, a little blush spreading on his freckled cheeks.
wc: 6k
mdni! cw: canon typical violence, childhood trauma, explicit sex, fingering, oral, p in v, rough sex with consent, pregnancy, pope says good girl, hopital, the usual pope fanfic stuff, no doves anywhere, fix it fic, baz, canon divergence, reader insert, no use of y/n
Chapter One Can I Stay | Chapter Three
-----
“Wait- Andrew Cody? Like CODY Cody?” Sasha dropped her pen and threw her hands up between you.
“Andrew Cody, yes. Only one ‘Cody’.”
After she set you up on the date from hell you stopped discussing your love life with her. But today you had shown up to your shift wearing the unmistakable shit-eating grin of a woman who was still a little bit cock drunk. She called it the moment you walked out of the elevator. It was time to fess up.
“God! I miss one girls’ night, and I’m completely behind. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I don’t trust your judgement after that awful set up and because I’m, like, 10 years older than you- I’m not your personal dating show.”
“Start from the beginning, please. So the date was a bust- I’m NOT sorry, by the way. How did this lead to you fucking a Cody?”
“I saw him again and we just never stopped seeing each other… being together. I’m here at the hospital, or I’m with him.”
Sasha sighed as she continued writing.
“Wait… how do you know who he is?” you asked. “Everywhere we go people know him.”
“Mmm. So, that family is… it’s like a little Mafia. Very close. Very loyal. Very criminal.”
“Okay... don’t do that again. I know about the… crime stuff. It’s not really like that.”
It absolutely was like that but you had to move this along.
“I met his family,” you continued. “Most of them.”
“You met the family? So, it's serious?”
“Maybe? The boys I met hanging around the bar with him. I met his mom at the house.”
“The house? A house party?”
You regretted updating her at all.
“Yes, it devolved into a party.”
“And you didn’t tell me?!” She shook her head. “Can I go to a party?”
“Why?”
“Rumor is they get crazy and the boys are gorgeous.”
“You have a boyfriend.”
“I have a bore-friend,” she countered.
“Oh, you’ve seen the light? Fine. I’ll bring you along sometime. But you have to promise you won’t fuck any of his brothers.”
“Swear!”
-----
You made good on your deal, and you were leading her past the pool toward the house. Deran spotted you first and waved you over while he kicked two party crashers out of the lounge chairs.
“Relax, girls. Enjoy. Drinks are… everywhere.”
“Thanks!” you both said in sync.
Towels and bags claimed your chairs as you went off to dig through the coolers. You plucked two green bottles out of the ice when you spotted her.
“You’re here…”
The pit in your stomach formed instantly. You had never faced her alone. Your arm snaked around Sasha’s for support.
“Oh, don’t bother with those warm beers! I made these up just for you.” She handed over two margaritas that would have put any tiki bar to shame as she gave you Judas’ kiss on each cheek.
“Thank you, Smurf. This is Sasha.”
“Well, aren’t you cute?” Smurf purred.
“Oh, thank you.” Sasha was polite but crushing your arm with hers. Smurf peppered her with the same questions she had asked you the first time you met. It was clear she liked Sasha’s answers better. Smurf saw a younger, more pliable girl in her. No threat.
“Have you met all the boys yet?” Smurf let her arm run down Sasha’s arm to take her hand.
“Craig and Deran, yes.”
‘Oh, you have to meet Andrew. He’ll adore you.”
Smurf’s eyes flicked between the two of you before settling on Sasha.
“Lovely to meet you, dear. You’re so young and beautiful. Mmm. Well, drink up. Andrew should be back any minute, and I want my baby to enjoy himself tonight.”
Her heels clicked as she headed back across the patio.
“Did she kinda just…”
“Yes,” you answered, sucking your tongue against your teeth.
“Wow… She really hates you.”
“Yep. This is why the ‘no brothers’ rule exists.”
“Understood.”
By the time the glasses were empty your plus one was getting annoyed.
“No one is talking to us,” she whined.
“And they aren’t going to.”
“What? Why?”
“The Pope Effect.”
“I thought you’d be royalty here!”
“No. I’m his property here, and you’re too close.”
“Well, that’s no fun.”
“Girl, go fish. Just no brothers.”
“Promise.”
You got up too and headed the other direction back to the cluster of coolers to look for water. A hand on your hip and a new voice took you by surprise.
“I think you wandered into the wrong backyard, sweetie.” You hadn’t been paying attention, and now some new guy was in your air space.
“Excuse me?” You created as much distance as you could, and he closed it. His face was familiar, but his voice was not.
“You’re not dressed for a Cody party. Look around.”
You knew it was true. The pool was full of the tiniest bikinis you had ever seen. Soon a few girls would be topless. You wore one of Andrew’s shirts over your swim suit and had given it a tie at the waist when the sun was at its hottest. Cody parties got out of hand, and you did anything you could to keep Andrew from getting too possessive… which was about to become a pipe dream.
“Let’s start with that shirt,” he said, starting to paw at the knot.
“No. No. No, thanks,” you said, backing up farther. “I’m here with my boyfriend. You really want to back off.”
“Don’t worry! I’ll get rid of him for us. Where is he?”
You scanned the area for Andrew- his timing was always perfect… and then you saw it- the crowd parting like the Red Sea for him.
“Can’t miss him.” You pointed behind his back and then his face finally clicked. “Wait! Shit! Baz!?”
“I like the sound of…”
He turned directly into Pope’s fist.
“Did he fucking touch you?” he roared over the music.
“Well, kind of but-”
Pope swung again as Baz stood back up.
“There are 30 women here to wet your dick. You keep your hands off my girl!”
“I DIDN’T KNOW, POPE!”
“I’ll bet you anything that she said ‘no’, and you kept pushing her.” He glanced at you. You gave him a small nod. He knew in his bones that you would never have encouraged anyone, much less Baz. You took your place under Andrew’s arm.
“Shouldn’t have even kept talking to her!”
“Let’s take a break. Let’s go inside, hmm?” You tugged Andrew toward the house.
“Next time, you’re dead,” he spat over his shoulder. His fingertips dipped into your bottoms as you walked away.
You passed Sasha chatting up J in the hallway as you wove your way through the house.
“Nope! Not this one either,” you said loud enough for J to hear. You gave him a look as you pulled the drink out of her hand.
“Mom!” she shrieked in mock embarrassment. She clocked where the two of you were headed. “Are you kidding me? You're my ride!”
“Get an Uber! I'll pay for it,” Pope bellowed.
Pope herded you faster down the hall to his old room. You locked the door and sat on the bed.
“Since we were kids… since we were kids! He got everything. I got the responsibilities, and he got whatever he wanted.” He knelt at your feet between your legs with his hands on your knees. “You okay?” He searched deep in your eyes for shame or fear.
“Nothing happened. He just made a pass at me and tried to get me to take your shirt off.” You swore you saw smoke coming from his ears. “For what it’s worth, he didn’t know, but, I promise you, I’m fine.”
He turned and stared at the door. Andrew rubbed his hands on your legs in time with his breathing.
“It shouldn’t have been that way,” you told him. “I’m sorry he’s still behaving like that.”
You put a hand on the side of his face and gently pulled him to look up at you. Your legs automatically spread a little farther apart as you slid closer to his chest.
“He got everything he wanted?” you asked.
“Yeah,” he grunted in reply.
“He got everything you wanted.”
“Yeah,” he repeated, sadder this time.
He was lost in thought for a moment. A memory took its time with him. He eventually nodded. You knew there was history he would hold forever. It was his to share or keep.
“Tonight he wanted me… but I’m only for you.” You moved even closer to the edge of the bed. It forced his hands higher. His thumbs absently wandered under the hem of your bottoms. “He’s out there icing his jaw, and you’re here with me.” You untied your shirt, letting it fall open. You didn’t take anything off. He loved unwrapping you.
A low growl rolled in his chest.
“This is as close to your childhood room as we’re gonna get… don’t you think you should fuck me in here? All those people outside… do you wanna shake the walls with me? Show everyone who I belong to?”
His fingers dug into your hips.
“You deserve what you want, Andrew. No one can take me away from you.”
He looked toward the door again. Music blared from the other side.
“Mine?” he grumbled.
“Yours.” You leaned forward, your breasts in his face nearly falling out of your top. You did know how to dress for a Cody house party.
“Mine.” It was no longer a question. He tugged at your bottoms.
“Yours.” You put your hands on his shoulders, and stood just enough for Andrew to pull them off.
“Mine.” He gave you a strong shove to lay you back on the bed. The knot on the back of your suit bruised your spine.
“Yours,” you eeked in a whiny prayer. He bit and nipped you from ankle to pussy on one leg and then the other, tossing each over his shoulders.
You knew this was Pope. His eyes were darker than you had ever seen them. He dove into you so hard it hurt. His teeth slammed into your clit as he sucked as much of your pink skin into his mouth as he could. It burned as hair pulled tightly between his lips. He pressed his tongue against your aching clit as hard as he could and shook his head like a dog with a toy.
“Ahh! Fuck!” It signaled the last bit of Andrew to check in.
“I’m not stopping unless you tell me to.”
“Okay.”
“You sure?”
“Use me, Pope.”
You weren’t sure if he liked or hated you calling him “Pope” but he reacted to it. He lifted your hips to lick you from bottom to top. You squealed like an animal. His tongue shot straight into your center he swirled and lapped inside you like you were his first and last meal. He dragged his nose back up your slit and stuffed two fingers inside you. His fingers curled to find the spot he called his, even though all of you was his. He matched the rhythm of his tongue. Andrew was gone but Pope still knew his secrets. He spent exactly one second pulling at the ties of your top before giving you an ultimatum.
“Get this off before I shred it.”
You arched your back and found the correct ends to loosen it enough to pull the top off.
“Good girl. Flip,” he barked. His fingers were still inside you.
“Babe, your…”
“Flip. Over.” He shoved you over with his free hand. You used your legs against his body to turn fully, unintentionally kicking him in the neck at least once. He didn’t seem to notice.
He lifted your hips and spread you wide.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he said so close you could feel his breath on your skin. He put his lips to you and began to feast again. Your hips locked in the air by his arms.
You left small, wet rings on the sheets as you tried to muffle your screams. You were sure the sound still carried much farther than you wanted.
“Shit… Andrew! God… you… you should move. I feel…”
“Like fuck I’ll move!” he said and pushed his face harder into you.
“Really… you… I… ahh… gaaah!”
You felt your cum coat his chin. He laughed into you, dark and greedy. Your legs started to fold under you.
“No. No. Not yet.” He pulled you back up and got to his feet. You heard fabric hit the floor, then one of his hands held both of yours behind your back.
He teased you for a grueling minute until he finally buried himself to the hilt. His pace set you on fire. It was overwhelming as you rode the line between pain and pleasure.
“As hard as you can!” you cried. Pope wove his hand around you to play with your clit. He continued to pummel you until he lost all control, biting your shoulder leaving marks that would take weeks to fade. Desperate to feel you as close as possible, he pulled you up against his chest. As his pace finally slowed he released you to collapse on the bed. Andrew slipped into the bathroom and returned with a warm washcloth and the drink you had brought with you.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Spent.” You shook your head in disbelief.
He spotted the signature his teeth had left on your shoulder. “Shit, I’m sorry. Does it hurt?”
“Not yet.”
He kissed from the fresh bruise up your neck to your jaw, finally finding your lips.
“I’m good. I promise,” you assured him. You feel better?”
“I felt bad? Can’t remember a thing before this.”
“Shit. I’m a mess.” Embarrassment reddened your cheeks when you saw yourself in the mirror.
He put both hands on your hips to steady you while you pulled your bottoms back on.
“Walking out of here looking like you were fucked straight through the mattress really brings home the point you came in here to make.” He kissed your forehead. “You’re mine.”
You thought of the anger in his eyes when he confronted Baz and the pain in his voice as he skimmed through memories. He was right.
He curled his arm around your shoulders as you walked out. Sasha had been right after all– you were royalty here.
-----
You hated to give J the satisfaction but, eventually, you did start letting Andrew take care of things for you. The two of you signed a lease on a new condo. You just wanted enough space that he could spread out and feel at home. He wanted you spoiled in a nicer building in a better neighborhood.
He did his research and found a two bedroom in a building with a gym he could use when he couldn’t sleep and codes to open every door. You knew he and the agent were lying about the fee so that you would let him carry most of the cost. You let it slide. You weren’t here to take, but he was here to give.
You worried about him; his family wasn’t safe. He brushed it off out of loyalty, but you felt his resolve faltering. He loved you but didn’t know how to live a normal life.
You decided to just grit your teeth around his family, pray every time he left the house, and give him a good welcome when he came home.
His location was off. It always was on days like this. You wished you could watch him inch closer on the map. It was easier when you were working. The NICU kept you busy. There was no time to worry. But when you were home it was nothing but worry. The house was always spotless so stress cleaning wasn’t even an option. You meal prepped. You paid bills. You considered moving furniture, but you wanted to consult Andrew first. You looked at LPN programs. You’d always thought of going for it. Andrew was always encouraging you to enroll. He was nothing but supportive of you.
He was out on a job with his brothers. It had been hours. You were waiting nervously in his t-shirt, as usual. His key spun in the lock, and you met him at the door. He had you pinned up against it before it was shut all the way.
“Why do you bother wearing these?” he hissed, yanking your panties down with one hand and then holding your arms above your head.
“I like the way you take them off,” you said into his mouth. “I guess it went well?”
“Smooth as glass. On your knees,” he ordered.
You obeyed and dropped to the floor. You undid his button fly and dragged his jeans down to the floor with you. He was already hard for you. You sat back on your heels, and took as much of him in your mouth as you could. You choked a bit on his length. You knew he looked down to check on you as he peeled his shirt off.
“All good,” you slurred with his cock still in your mouth.
Your nails dug into his ass as you pulled his hips toward you. He knew exactly what that meant, and he took your invitation to fuck into your mouth. Andrew let his upper body fall forward bracing himself on his forearms against the door, pushing deep into your throat. You looked up at him wide-eyed.
“That’s a good girl. You’re taking me so good!” His hand was on the back of your head now. “Your perfect mouth was made for me, wasn’t it?”
Your answer was just sloppy, affirmative moans.
“Get up here.”
“Already?” You wiped your mouth.
“Can’t wait.”
You jumped up into his arms. He always showered after a job. He felt like it kept you and the home you shared together clean and safe. It was his religion.
Your legs locked around his waist. His hands secured under your ass. Squeals escaped you as his fingers worked their way into your slit. Once in the bathroom he put you down and started the water.
“Not too hot,” you told him as you tossed your shirt in the corner. “Leave the shower door open?”
“It’s gonna make a mess,” he protested.
“Please?”
“Whatever you say.”
You pulled him into the shower. He turned you around and pressed your chest against the cold tiles.
“You ready?”
“Please, Andrew!”
“Please what?”
“Please, please fuck me!”
“Good girls get what they want.”
He lined up with your pussy and drove himself all the way into you in one thrust. You yelped again. He knew it was pleasure.
The water made it hard to see or breathe. It made everything more intense. You loved every second of it. You were both always heightened when he came home safely, and you felt him getting closer to finishing. This was his favorite way to come down off the adrenaline high.
“Wait, wait. Stop a sec.” You pushed away from the wall.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
“Nothing. Here- pick me up?”
You faced him again. He lifted you smoothly, and held you against the wall. You locked your legs around him again.
“Like this?”
“Yes!”
He got back to work fucking you.
“Oh god! Oh shit, Andrew!”
“That good?”
“Mmm… yes.”
Over his shoulder you were watching his back in the mirror. You swore he had muscles that medical school didn’t teach you about. He rippled and flexed in rhythm with his thrusts. Every vein stood out on his arms as his blood pumped for you.
You clawed at his back feeling the thin scar from the stitches you gave him. You smiled at the tan lines on his legs and arms while tracing the line his shirt collar made. Static creases were beginning to take their places on his beautiful neck.
You knew he had been a skinny kid. He built his body on purpose. The work. The weights. The fights. His body was a topographical map of every hard thing he had done. Your mind drifted to the laugh lines and worry lines you intended to give him. An image of him older flooded your vision. Going grey. Crow’s feet. Readers.
A sharp thrust brought you back to the shower in his arms.
He knew your angles, and he was hitting all your favorite spots. The specific sound of your breathing always told on you.
“You ready, honey? You ready to come for me?”
“Yes! Yes! I’m so close!”
“Come with me!”
Your cries echoed off the walls. His back continued to bulge as you finished together. His ass. God, his ass. His birthmark peeked out from behind your bare feet.
He held you up and stayed in you as you caught your breath. He always did.
Then he caught you staring.
“What are you looking at?” He followed your eyeline to the mirror over his shoulder. “Really? You’re a fucking pervert, you know that?” He slapped your ass as he put you down. “Dirty girl.”
-----
It was 3:17am. You had spent your break inside partially because it was raining but mostly because you knew Andrew wouldn’t be there. The boys had been planning a job. He was busy and didn’t want you out in the dark without him.
You sat in the nursery blissfully rocking a baby boy with a shock of red hair. He looked like he could have been Andrew as a baby. He’d finished his bottle a while ago, but it was a quiet night and the floor was still. You sat eyes closed holding his warm little burrito body against you. He was heading home soon. Hopefully tomorrow. You were so proud of every baby that went home to their happy parents. The soft tones of Brahms' Lullaby filled the room. This was one of your favorite sounds in the world. Somewhere in the building a new soul entered the world.
The floor nurse peeked his head around the corner.
“Someone wants you downstairs, hon.”
“I’m super busy right now. Hands full.”
“It’s the ED.”
“Why me?”
“He said to say it’s The Pope…? Do you know The Pope?” he asked with dramatic flourish in his voice.
You got up quickly and placed the baby in his arms.
“Not ‘The Pope’. Pope. It’s a code. Cover for me?” You didn’t wait for an answer.
Every step was a prayer as you ran. It was a miracle you didn’t fall as you panicked down four flights. You instinctively flung the side door open to see if you misunderstood and Andrew had brought one of his brothers to your spot. Nothing.
You took off running again. Winding through the fluorescent lit hallways ready to be strong for him. Ready to hold his hand and explain what the doctors were doing to help his brother, whichever one it was. What if it was J? He was so young but so enmeshed in the lifestyle his uncles had built.
You hit your palms on the nurses station. “Pope? Where?”
A nurse whose name you couldn’t remember told you Trauma 2. You were off again. The squeak of your shoes stinging your ears.
“Andrew! Andrew! Who…” Your eyes swept across the hall. You counted. They were all there. They stood there across from the door shaking and sprayed with blood. All except Andrew.
Pope wasn’t a code. Pope was the code.
“What the fuck happened? What did you do?”
Deran tried to hold you back from the large glass doors.
“You can’t keep me out!”
He should have. The attending ordered you out immediately. Andrew was pale.
“What. The. Fuck. Happened?!” You could have sworn you felt your teeth crack.
“It was a drive-by,” one of them whispered. “Someone was pissed at us. It was sloppy but… they hit Pope.” You couldn’t even put a face to the voice behind you. “He wanted to come here. He asked for you.”
You knew the Codys avoided hospitals. You were grateful they listened to him.
You stared through the doors wishing you had chosen emergency medicine so you could have your hands on him. You scanned the monitors and the faces of your colleagues. No sign of panic, but they’re trained to hide it.
“We’re fucking done with all of you.”
Baz scoffed.
“I am so serious. If anything happens to him, it might not be as flashy as a damned drive-by, but I can promise that you won’t end up here. You’ll be hopeless before anyone notices you’re missing.” You could see his vitals were picking up. The doctors looked less rushed. The nurse hanging more blood mouthed to you that he would be okay. “I love your brother. I can’t help it. I need him. And not for the fucking blood money you animals think I want. We could have stayed in my shit apartment and lived on cereal. I just need him alive. I’m not sorry boys, I need him away from you.” Your voice finally cracked knowing that the time had come. It was you or her.
-----
After trauma care and surgery he was in a beige hospital room. He was lucky. The damage was minimal even though he lost a lot of blood. The repair was simple, and his heart was steadily pumping donated blood, including yours, strongly.
You heard heels click behind you.
“Get out,” Smurf spat from behind you.
“Fat fucking chance,” you replied without looking up. You could hear someone outside the room. You assumed Baz was her watchdog.
“I want to see my baby alone.”
You finally turned to look at her.
“No… Janine.” You decided you were equals. You decided you weren’t afraid.
“He should be with me. You want too much from him. He should be mine. If he wants to be around you that’s fine as a side dish. But I’m the whole fucking table for these boys– I won’t let that change.”
“You’re that scared? You raised these boys, these men to believe they are nothing without you. You raise them to believe all they had to give was money and blood. What the fuck did you do to them? You think you know them, but all you know is how to control them. You love that fucking power.” You were fighting sobs by now. “All you know is to keep him docile for you. He’s more than just muscle. He’s so beautiful, and all he wants to do is love me. He just wants to know he’s good. He wants someone to love him without a contract.”
“Listen…”
“He is so fucking sedated right now because his fight-or-flight is all fight, and it won’t turn off. We can’t trust him to wake up and not hurt somebody. Because of you. All the shit you made him do. Because you raised him to be a damn sledgehammer. We could have been home by now, but he wakes up in a rage.” You composed yourself with one deep breath. “He’s coming home with me. He’s going to have a choice to make. Janine, he’s not choosing between you and me. You are not my competition. He will be choosing between life and death. Now get the fuck out.”
You heard a sharp exhale from the hall as you turned to look at Andrew again.
Her heels clicked again as she walked to give him a kiss on his cheek. Far too long, and too close to his lips.
“My baby,” she purred as she rubbed his chest and let her hand drag down his stomach over wires she couldn’t see.
You never called him “baby” again.
-----
Andrew hated having to recover. It all felt like weakness. To you, it was a very sweet time. It was just the two of you. You kept his brothers away for as long as you could. Deran texted you every now and then to ask how he was doing, but the conversations were always very short… until he started calling Pope.
Smurf was furious. “We’re your family!” she yelled. He held strong for a long time before they got him to show up for a meeting. They knew exactly how to play him.
He started getting quiet and jumpy. He started disappearing. You couldn’t stomach it.
You called out of your shift to wait for him. He came in at 4am. His knuckles were split. His face was starting to swell. You didn’t bother to ask. You got the first aid kit, and went to work on his hands.
“Andrew… no.”
“Ugh, listen…” he interrupted.
“No. I’m not doing this again. I won’t live through it a second time. I can’t.”
“They’re my family.”
“Are they? You might share some blood, but all they do is use you! They drain you dry! They almost got you killed. You’re the pitbull they keep up chained up until they need you. Enough, Andrew! Don’t forget, you share my blood now too- because of them!”
He stood close, glaring down at you. You realized his instinct was taking over. He was automatically trying to intimidate you. It was a habitual path worn deep throughout the years. All fight; no flight. But you could never fear this man. You stood too, tossing the remaining gauze and tape into the sink.
“I’m not afraid of you, Pope!” You spit his familial name at him like it was a curse. He knew what it meant from you. His breathing was out of control. He slammed his hand flat into his chest in an attempt to steady his heartbeat. His eyes were glassy.
“But I’m not going anywhere, Andrew! You own me. You own me, body and soul. But not if she owns you.” His breathing became louder. Almost wailing. You pressed your hand against his. He instantly tried to kiss you. Like your mouth would put air back in his lungs. He had never been this forceful with your body before. You had to shove with all your might to move him an inch.
“Andrew, no. No. We’re not ignoring this. We’re not medicating this. We’re dealing with it now. Look at me. I’m not leaving you. Look at me…” You put his wrapped hands on your face. “I am not leaving you. I need you to think about everything. I need you to decide for yourself, and then for us… Where do we go from here? I will not live this life. I want to be with you. I’m yours. But you have to be mine.”
He turned his back to you and headed toward the door.
“Andy?”
He stopped in his tracks. You hardly ever called him that. You used that name, that sound, at your lowest.
When the two of you flew out for your dad’s funeral.
When your favorite, tiniest patient didn’t get to go home.
When you had been in a car accident that was not your fault but the man in the other car was screaming at you like it was. Andy had put him flat on the pavement.
At the lowest points of your last 18 months, you had called to the tenderest part of his heart that no one else knew was there.
“Would you let anyone use me like that?”
His dropped head was the answer.
“What happens to you happens to me now. I… want to marry you. I want to make a family with you.”
You tried to keep talking, but your voice was gone. Lower than a whisper.
He walked straight to his truck.
No kisses. No shower. No blue dot to follow as he pulled away.
-----
Pope spent hours going to banks, apartments, and storage units. He emptied every account, and found every paper. Everything was crammed into two huge duffle bags. He drove his truck on to the Cody property, tossing his phone in the pool as he crossed the patio. Everyone was gathered in the kitchen.
“Pope! Hey!”
“You made it!”
“There he is!”
He heard nothing. He stomped over to Smurf dropping the bags at her feet. Cash spilled out. He ripped the bloody gauze from his knuckles and threw it on top.
“That’s the last you get from me.”
-----
Andrew drove through the night. Your car was hitched to the back of his truck. It held on like you held his hand in a crowd. Both cars were loaded with whatever they could hold.
You slept on his shoulder between rest stops.
Your best friend from nursing school was a few states away. You were her maid of honor and the godmother of her oldest boy. Annie didn’t think twice when you called.
You shared a bottle of wine while Andrew sat on the front steps and searched the windows of every car that passed. You told her everything. Your year and a half together… the gun shot… his mother. She cried.
“You can stay as long as you need to.” And she meant it.
Andrew watched her boys play. He watched her give them praise and kisses. She gave them love and boundaries. It took Annie‘s husband a while to relax around him. He kept asking you if he was really okay.
“This is kind of like when people see snow for the first time,” you answered. “This is good for him.”
He walked their dog a couple times a day to get a mental map of the neighborhood.
Two weeks later, you felt terrible to be squatting this long, but the universe can be kind. Annie said that a family from their church was moving for a year to teach in another country. They offered for you to stay in their house in exchange for keeping it up and paying the utilities. Your only question was if you could get a dog. Yes.
Annie got you in at the hospital, and the church hired Andrew to make some repairs even though you didn’t attend services.
Eventually, you realized this was home. You bought a house with a yard large enough for the dog and a view of the lake. You both wanted to live near water.
You were careful with many things but careless with others, and soon there were three of you. Andrew cried when you told him. He woke you in the night to tell you he was so happy to be making a family with you but afraid of the kind of father he would be. Afraid he couldn’t bring up a child to be good.
“Honey, this baby is made from the part of you that loves me. And that part,” you told him, “is very good.”
He worshipped your pregnant body, never letting you drive anywhere and buying everything you craved in bulk. He was the happiest, in all his life, lying under your weight holding your belly while you tried to induce labor. You were uncomfortable and swollen but a goddess to him.
Annie is godmother and stood with you at the courthouse when Andrew took your last name. “Cody” was easy to discard. Someone else could pass it on.
He painted the house twice because you didn’t like the first color. He insisted the baby be christened in the church that helped you at your lowest and flew Sasha in to surprise you for the occasion.
He mentors kids in the “Sk8 Club” at the middle school. He’s there at 2:30pm every day because “it keeps them out of trouble.” He lights the birthday candles. He feeds the fish. He makes fresh paper chains for the tree every Christmas.
Every so often a ghost haunts his dreams, and he has to tell you his sins. You offer the only absolution you can: you have only ever known him to be good and so he is.
-----
Chapter 3 Next Week! 💕
Songs that set the mood:
Can I Stay by Ray LaMontagne
Trouble by Ray LaMontagne
All The Ways by The Secret Sisters (feat: Ray LaMontagne)
Andrew 'Pope' Cody who asks you to marry him with tears in his eyes because he’s never known a love like yours; who buys you a house to fill with love and memories.
Andrew 'Pope' Cody who is so happy when you tell him you want to foster kids instead of having your own, because there’s so many kids out there who need more than what the life they were born into could give them.
Andrew 'Pope' Cody who has always wanted to help kids like him and Lena have a chance at a better life.
Andrew 'Pope' Cody who is ecstatic but nervous when the foster kid is placed with you - a scrappy young boy named Ryan.
Andrew 'Pope' Cody who proudly makes Ryan perfect lunches to take with him to elementary school and promises to be there for him whenever he needs anything.
Andrew 'Pope' Cody who is thrilled when Ryan announces he got cast in the school play (it’s elementary school… so everyone is cast) as the first tree on the left and has one whole line.
Andrew 'Pope' Cody who volunteers to help build the sets for the play because his foster son should be a part of the best forest.
Andrew 'Pope' Cody who “runs line” with Ryan any chance he gets to make sure Ryan isn’t nervous for his big moment in the show - in the morning over cereal, in the car on the way to school, at night while tucking him into his cozy room with green walls and dinosaur bed sheets.
Andrew 'Pope' Cody who drags you by the hand to sit front row center for Ryan’s performance, cam-corder in hand; who records the entire performance but has it focused on the first tree on the left the whole time.
Andrew 'Pope' Cody who whistles with his fingers after Ryan perfectly delivers his single line of dialogue, a smile plastered on his face as he sees you and Pope in the front row and waves his branch arm at you.
Andrew 'Pope' Cody who insists you all go out for ice cream afterwards.
Andrew 'Pope' Cody who whispers to you that night in bed about wanting to move forward with adopting Ryan and you smile as you tell him you already asked the agency for the paperwork.
Andrew 'Pope' Cody who takes you and Ryan to the Garden Center and lets Ryan pick out a tree to bring home.
Andrew 'Pope' Cody who digs a hole in the backyard while you and Ryan “help”, bringing him lemonade and making sure he’s put on sunscreen.
Andrew 'Pope' Cody who lets Ryan shovel the last scoop of dirt around the newly planted tree, showing him how to pat it down gently; who asks you to grab a blanket from inside, so the three of you can sit next to the tree.
Andrew 'Pope' Cody who gets eye to eye with Ryan and tells him that “the tree will grow and thrive now that it’s planted and its roots can spread into the ground.” And that “Ryan will grow and thrive because he has roots in this home as his adoption is finalized and he’s now officially Ryan Cody.”
Andrew 'Pope' Cody who almost falls over as Ryan throws his arms around him and you, so happy that you’re his parents.
Andrew 'Pope' Cody who watches the tree in the backyard grow as Ryan grows.
Andrew 'Pope' Cody who always grabs a blanket and sits outside with his son near his tree whenever Ryan asks him to talk, man-to-man.
Andrew 'Pope' Cody who watches his son graduate and fall in love; who gifts his son his home when it’s time for him to start his own family.
Andrew 'Pope' Cody who sneaks into the backyard to build a tree house in Ryan’s tree when he learns that Ryan and his wife are adopting a baby boy.
Andrew 'Pope' Cody who goes grey and has crows feet and readers; who chases his grandson around the backyard, around the tree that gave Ryan his roots, always finding his way back to your side to squeeze your hand and marvel at the life you two built together.
2026 | dominowaverly — do NOT feed any part of this work or any of the author's work into any AI tool for any reason whatsoever. FUCK AI for real.
robby jokes that jack does "nude yoga" at sunrise...but jack's not too sure he'd describe it like that. 1.3k
♡ — MDNI/18+; fem!reader; reader is jack's coworker; unestablished relationship; everyone say thank you robby; p in v sex; unprotected sex; big dick jack abbot; pet names(baby, sweetheart); jack is kinda condescending; but in a hot way; mix it with praise; mating press; size kink if you squint; there's no plot to this lol
me when i have long wips and i write this instead
MAIN MASTERLIST
"You do nude yoga?"
Jack's head whips up at the question. You've never seen that man look so confused. He's almost dumbfounded. The papers he'd been thumbing through slip away from his thick fingers as his eyes dart around. You assume he's trying to find the audacity for your question.
"Where the hell did you hear that from?" You note how the response isn't a denial. Though his confusion is certainly no question when he looks at you with a cocked brow.
"Robby told me. Said you do nude yoga at sunrise."
Jack huffs a disbelieving laugh at that. He shakes his head and the lines around his eyes crinkle with his toothy smile. "Robby told you that..?" He rocks back on his heels and shoves his hands in the pockets of his scrubs. "Guess he goes around spilling secrets."
You weren't oblivious to the sarcasm in his voice. "Well, for the record," you clarify with a wave of your hand, "I didn't think he was being serious. You don't seem like a yoga guy."
He makes a sound at that. Just a short hum of acknowledgement. "Yeah..." Jack shakes his head, sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, "I wouldn't exactly call it yoga."
"What, you actually do nude pilates?"
He laughs again, not quite as breathy. The tips of his ears flush pink as he looks down at the floor. "Ah, no...not quite. Just...a lot of stretching."
"Stretching." You repeat, testing the word between the two of you. "But...nude?"
"Is that the part that matters..?"
"No, it's just...you're not denying it."
Jack straightens, rolls those big shoulders beneath his scrub top. He looks down at you under heavy-lidded eyes. Smirking with a look so filthy it makes you feel exposed.
"If you're that curious, you should stop by after work. Easier to just show you."
———
"Fuuuck, Jack, s'too much..."
Your whine lands sweet on his ears, landing somewhere with your gasp when he'd first pushed in. You'd barely taken the head of his fat cock when you pitched a fit about him being 'too big'. Your slick cunt dripped wet around him—sensitive where he'd already made you cum twice trying to prep you—but you still hugged him tight.
"Mm, you can take it, baby," he groans, rolling his hips to sink another inch inside you. His hands push your thighs wide, fingers sinking into the plush skin, keeping you open for him. "Just a little stretch, c'mon."
Jack reveled in the sight beneath him: you, all flushed and panting, sweating with effort, and your cunt stretched out around his dick, clit all hard and puffy where he'd played with it to get you off. The Pittsburgh dawn streaked golden light over your sweat-slick skin where it snuck through his curtains. He could surely die happy with this as his last memory.
"Little stretch?" You pant out, throat dry. Your hands scramble at the flushed skin of his chest as he leans in. "Fff-uck you...you're too big—ah!"
He cuts you off with a firm push that sinks his cock down to the root. His hips rest heavy against your ass where he presses his weight into you. "Y'keep saying that..." those big hands slide up your legs, guiding your ankles to the broad set of his freckled shoulders, "...but you're taking it just fine."
His body rocks forward just enough to draw another whine from you before pulling back. It's not a lot—barely an inch or two, only to sink back in. The groans that rumble in his chest are just as filthy as the sounds you make, keening and whimpering at the girth of his cock. He rocks back only to press back in, somehow reaching even deeper, forcing your cunt to mold around the shape of him.
"There you go...Yeah, let me in, baby." Jack's mesmerized by the sight of your cunt swallowing every inch of him, leaving his skin slick and creamy with your cum every time he pulls back. "See, look at that. Fits just fine."
All you can offer is a shaky, breathless moan as he presses deep. Your hands brace on his thighs where they bracket your hips, nails digging into the meat and muscle with every push.
"Jack..." you whine, brows knit tight on your sweaty forehead.
"I know, sweetheart. But you're doing so good..." One thick arm bands over your thighs while his other hand slides up your ribs and over your breast, palming the weight there. "Think you can stretch a little more for me?"
You didn't know how he could stretch you any more than this. Every time his hips pressed flush, it pushed the air out of your lungs in a pathetic whine. He'd already filled you completely.
But at the sight of your nod and soft mm-hmm, Jack doesn't pull back. He leans in, pushing your legs with him as he brings his face close to yours. Your knees nearly meet your own ears, legs pinned down with the full weight of his body draped over yours. And somehow, with the movement, his cock burrows even deeper. The fat tip of his cock hits something deep inside that makes you shiver underneath him.
He groans shamelessly, right into your face, as your cunt pulses desperately around him. "Fuck, there you go..." His hips rock against yours, chasing the pulse of your slick cunt.
"Jack—! Mm, fuck..." Your face scrunches up as you keen. "You're s-sooo deep..."
"Oh, I know," he coos with mock-sympathy, "you're doing so good, baby. Taking me so well..." If it were even possible, he seems to sink deeper when his arms move to brace right by your head.
His cock kisses that spot deep inside, the one that makes your legs shake on his shoulders. The pleasure zips up your spine and into the base of your skull until it's all you can think about. Every movement makes you clench tight around him until you're panting into each other's mouths. You feel yourself dripping around the thick base of his cock, slicking his heavy balls with every press.
"Gettin'...really tight on me, sweetheart," he huffs—almost laughs—against your lips. "Gonna cum for me again?"
"Yeah..." He forces the word out in a breathless whine when he grinds into you.
"Yeah, just stretching you out's enough to make that pretty pussy cum, huh?"
Anything you could've hoped to say is immediately interrupted by your own moans as he ruts into you. Like an animal, short and quick thrusts, still buried to the hilt inside you. His cock grinding against that spot so deep you, bullying the sensitive nerves until you can't take it anymore. Your muscles pull tight and he feels it immediately; those slick, hot pulses around his dick only motivate him to stay buried deep as you ride the high.
By the time you settle, Jack's still rocking in and out of the hot pull of your cunt. He savors the little twitches, the whines that slip from your lips, when he pushes in. His hands move inward to cradle your face, heavy palms resting on your cheeks and forcing you to look up at him. He manages to lean in just enough to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth, its gentleness in complete contrast with the ache of your muscles.
"Felt good, huh?" You barely manage to nod in the clasp of his hands. He hums a sound that you feel more than hear. "Yeah...this is a lot better than yoga, isn't it?"
Somewhere between the jumbled thoughts of pleasure, you remember the conversation at work that started the whole thing. How Robby had nonchalantly tossed the words around last time you saw him. Yeah, Abbot does nude yoga in the mornings, at sunrise. A stupid joke meant to embarrass Jack.
Well, he was anything but embarrassed. Looking up at him now—with his face flushed, dripping sweat, head still framed by your ankles in the air—he never looked so smug and proud. You didn't know if you wanted to kiss him or slap him.
You'd have to tell Robby he needs to find a better name for it.
mdni! cw: canon typical violence, childhood trauma, explicit sex, fingering, p in v, consent, the usual pope fanfic stuff, no doves anywhere
Chapter One: Can I Stay
This date could not have been worse. Your co-worker, Sasha, had set you up with someone from her boyfriend’s office. Honestly, you didn’t like her boyfriend so you have no idea why you trusted her judgement when she recommended this guy. He got shit faced faster than you had ever seen a human accomplish the feat. He never asked you a single question. All he said about you was when he first sat down and that was, “Nurse? Hot.” Eventually he was just pointing out girls in the bar that he found “doable.” He actually said “doable.”
It seemed like the guy behind the bar was clocking him and occasionally shaking his head. It wasn’t just you- this date was noticeably bad.
You tried to cut the evening short and told him that you needed to catch up on sleep. In truth you hadn’t even been there that long. Maybe 90 minutes including waiting for him to show up. He kept signaling for more drinks for you that you weren’t consuming.
"Sounds good to me,” he said too loudly. “The Uber is already here.” He fully expected you to get in the car with him.
“No, thanks! Off you go.” You waved with fake cheer as he got in, and you walked to your car. The glass was cold on your back as you leaned against the trunk to text Sasha that she had failed miserably. As you circled around to the front of the car you saw it.
“Shit.”
One tire was completely flat. Unfortunately, you never really learned how to remedy that, and roadside said it was going to take 3 hours. At least. It was late and chilly by the water. Your bed was calling.
You made your way back into The Drop to look for someone to ask for help. You figured an employee was your safest option. Someone who wasn’t completely anonymous. You summoned your courage and walked toward the guy who had noticed you earlier. Built. Furrowed brow. All in black. Bruised knuckles. Still, he seemed like a better option than some random or freezing in the parking lot.
“Umm… hi.” You got his attention and introduced yourself. You waited for his name.
“… Pope.”
“Pope?”
He stared at you for the longest time. “Yes.”
“Okay… I’m a… patron… a customer. I mean, I was here tonight. You saw me. Maybe. But, anyway, I’m trying to get home, and I have a flat tire. I don’t know how to fix it, and my date is gone.” You had a babbling problem, and his stare made it worse. His eyes grew wide wondering when you would take a breath. “He wouldn’t have helped anyway. I called a truck, but they can’t get here for at least three hours, and I never get to sleep and I really want to sleep. And I only had, like, half a beer so it’s okay for me to drive home- don’t worry about that. But, is there anyone-”
“I’ll do it.” he interrupted.
“Oh! Really? Okay, thank you! My car is outside. Obviously. But, umm, I’ll wait for you outside. Where the car is.”
“Nah. It’s late. I’ll walk you out.” He came around the bar and led you out the door. “Do you have a jack?” he asked, pulling on a pair of black nitrile gloves.
“Great question. I don’t know... would it be in the glove compartment?”
He stared again and sighed, slightly annoyed. “Let me in the back,” he ordered.
“Excuse me?”
“The trunk. It would be in the trunk.”
“Right. Sure. Okay.”
You pressed the button on your key fob, and the hatch lifted with a screech. Pope flinched at the sound.
“I can oil that.”
“Oh? Okay. Thanks!”
He rooted around in the trunk pausing on the ID badge attached to your backpack.
“You’re a nurse?”
“NICU.”
“Babies,” he whispered to himself as he began to raise the car.
“Tiny babies.”
“You like it?” He was focused on his task but his voice sounded genuine.
“I’m on nights which sucks. The babies are cute. It’s good when it’s good, but when the NICU is bad it’s… bad… like this waste of a night off. Thanks, Sasha.”
His attention and interest were in direct contrast to the time spent with your date earlier. Truth be told, you were happier freezing in the lot with him than warm at that table.
You continued, “It’s not easy. But I talk too much for adult patients, and nights pay better. I guess you work nights too?” You leaned forward from your perch on the curb trying to catch his eye.
“Sometimes,” he answered.
“Well, I’m lucky this was one of the times, Pope.”
He lifted his head. He looked you up and down quickly and got back to work with a smirk. He let you chatter about work and your friends. He enjoyed the sound of your voice. As he started getting the spare mounted, a group of men passed by. They couldn’t see him crouched low, and they catcalled you.
“Hey! It’s cold out here… look at that little dress… we could warm you up quick…”
“NO,” he shouted calmly without bothering to stand.
“Shit! Sorry, Pope!” they called back.
“Do you know them?”
“No.” He sounded disgusted.
“But they know you?”
“They’re regulars here… like that asshole you were with.”
He looked at you from under his brows, his head still tilted down. It was a look that would come to wreck you in time.
“Got it.”
“I’m almost done here.” It didn’t sound like an update; it sounded like a warning that your time together was almost up.
“Thanks, Pope.”
“You didn’t eat.”
“Hmm?”
“He kept waving the waitress away. He didn’t let you eat. Come back in. I’ll make you something.” His eyes flicked up to gauge your response.
“You’re gonna make it?”
“You really don’t want anyone else to.
-----
You knew it would be a tough night when the dayshift wished you luck as you clocked in. It was a full moon, and things were already going sideways. Patients weren’t sleeping. Parents were freaking out. Equipment was going haywire. Definitely a full moon. You took your break late, made your way downstairs and out one of the lesser used doors to your favorite quiet spot for a cigarette. You hated that you still smoked, but shifts like this made it really hard to give it up completely. You still slipped out for a puff or two as the hours went on.
You came out to this area most nights just to breathe. Just for a break from the fluorescence. A break from the constant beeps and hums.
“Hey…” A voice came from behind you.
“Geez!”
“Don’t freak out.”
“What the hell? Who… P… Pope?”
“You shouldn’t smoke.”
“Pope!”
“It’s bad for the babies. I looked it up.” He meant it.
“Why would you… ? No. Never mind. Why are you here?”
“It’s called third hand smoke…” It was like the words had to come out of him.
“Pope! Why are you here?”
“I need your help.”
He stepped closer. You saw that he was bloody. His face. His hands. His shirt was about to drip.
“I’ll take you to the emergency entrance. I’ll get you right in.”
“No. No… reports.”
“Pope…”
“Please.” He knew how to work the sad puppy eyes.
Ten minutes later you were in Pope’s truck suturing a deep slice low on his back and glueing together a cut above his eye. The blood on the front of his shirt wasn’t his.
“You wanna tell me the story?”
“I would have done it myself, but I couldn’t reach.”
“You would have sutured yourself?” you asked.
“Yes.”
“You’ve done it before…” You knew the answer from the scars visible on his arms. Decent on his right, sloppier on his left. “Okay. Let’s not do that anymore? So, how did this happen?”
“No.”
“No? You don’t think you owe me some kind of explanation? I’m way over my break. I’ll probably get a warning.”
Even from behind him you could tell he wasn't flinching. He was used to experiencing, and ignoring, pain.
“It’s better if I don’t.”
“A coward’s answer,” you muttered low.
Pope turned abruptly to look at you, nearly breaking the suture. “I’m not a coward. It’s safer.”
“Okay. I apologize.” Your voice naturally became gentle for him. “Let me finish? Please?”
He settled back in as you made the last stitches.
“The babies need you to be safe.” He hadn’t meant for you to hear it.
“The babies?”
“You said they’re tiny. They need you. It’s already not safe if you’re coming out here in the middle of the night.”
You blinked in confusion. “Pope…” you continued in a new direction, “Ya know… I went back to The Drop last week. I didn’t see you there.”
“I’m just there when Deran needs me.”
“Who’s Deran?” you asked, happy to learn more about him and keep him distracted at the same time.
“My brother. It’s his bar.”
“Ah… so you’re the oldest. You take care of everyone.” It was a statement; not a question.
“I have 3 brothers.”
“Shit. That’s a lot of testosterone.”
“You have no fucking idea,” he huffed. “My nephew is around now too.”
“No, no, no. That’s too much. No women around?”
“Almost constantly,” he sounded annoyed. “And there’s Smurf.”
“Smurf?”
“My mother.”
“Smurf,” you repeated. “Okay, so how did Deran get a normal name?”
“Mine’s Andrew.” You sensed his unease.
You were finished but stole a moment to admire him. You were familiar with his face by now, but his shirt was in his hands and you couldn’t help it. His back was tight and sculpted. His arms were thick and sun-kissed with a thousand freckles. He caught you checking out his chest and abs as he turned to face you.
“Just making sure. I didn’t miss anything.” Almost believable.
He smiled but looked so tired.
“I asked one of my doctors, she owed me a big favor so, um, if you go to the hospital pharmacy…” He bristled. “No, no wait. Just the pharmacy… and give them my name, not yours, there are antibiotics waiting. Okay?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m sure whatever did this wasn’t sterile, and next time I see you I don’t want it to be for an infection.”
“You’d want to see me again?”
“I certainly wouldn’t mind. Here- you can just text me next time… sometime.” You wrote your number on his arm like you were in high school. “You don’t have to scare me on my cigarette break.”
“You should quit.”
“The babies. You’re right. I’m almost done. Some things are hard to let go of once you pick them up.”
You shared a long look as you gently pressed the butterfly closure over his eye.
“I have to go back in now. Pharmacy. Okay, Pope?”
“Andrew,” he corrected. “Okay.” He touched your arm as you left the cab of the truck. “I can be at the bar the next time you go.”
“Thursday? I’m off.”
“I promise.”
-----
There was no mistaking him for anyone else. No one stood like him. Your heart fluttered as you got closer. He walked over to meet you at your car. “Walked” was a terrible word for how he moved. “Strutted” was the closest word you could find. He walked like his footfalls kept the earth balanced.
“Hey.” His voice was even lower than you remembered. His hand reached out to touch you before he snapped it back to his side. You were ready to meet his touch, and it was disappointing to see it rescinded.
“Pope. How is everything feeling?” You waved your hands in front of you trying to indicate his injuries. His eye looked much better. No sign of swelling. “Your face looks great.” You blushed.
“The stitches are itchy, but it’s fine.” He was ignoring discomfort again.
“Do you want me to check them?”
He didn’t answer. He just turned and waited for you to lift his shirt. He knew you were harmless, but if you knew how much it meant that he turned his back to you in that darkening lot when his default setting was self-preservation…His muscles instinctively flexed and his neck twitched when your bare fingers grazed his skin.
“Perfect. Textbook.”
He made no rush to turn and end your touch. You finally let the fabric fall. You allowed your intrusive thoughts to win as you smoothed his shirt against his back. He was as firm and strong as you remembered. You made your step backwards noisier than it needed to be so he knew you were finished. He turned his head first. His body followed.
“Inside?” he asked.
You nodded and followed him to the door.
Inside the air conditioning gave you a chill, and your eyes took a moment to adjust to the low light. Someone you didn’t recognize greeted him with a sarcastic tone.
“Oh, welcome Andrew and… guest. Welcome.”
“Fuck off,” he replied, not bothering to turn his head.
He led you to a table in the back. On the table sat a paper napkin with “Andrew” scrawled on it. He stuffed it in his pocket. When he picked it up you could see that it had “Pope” written on the other side. Andrew pulled out your chair and then sat with his back to the wall. A girl who looked too young to be working at a bar came to take your order- a beer and a vodka soda.
Conversation came easy. He asked a lot of questions and seemed to be interested in your answers. Despite his attention, his eyes wandered. Sometimes just sweeping the room but it seemed like someone over your shoulder was bothering him. You knew he still didn’t miss a word you said.
“Everything okay behind me?” you asked.
“My brothers are being dicks.” He sat back and ran a hand through his hair.
“We don’t have to stay here,” you offered.
“You’d leave?”
“If you’re not comfortable, sure. I’d go anywhere with you.”You dropped your eyes in embarrassment. You hadn’t meant to be that dramatic, but you felt it was true.
His hand sat lightly on your lower back as you walked out of The Drop. He raised it only to flip off his brothers as he passed.
Andrew drove you to a small diner you’d never seen before, but he seemed to know it well. He walked in, held the door for you, and immediately brought you to a booth where he could see the door and his truck beyond it.
“I’ve never been here before,” you said.
“They always get an ‘A’ when they’re inspected.”
“Always?”
“Yeah. I check.”
A small laugh escaped your nose.
“What does The Drop get?” you asked.
“Not an ‘A’," he answered with a grimace.
The waitress stopped what she was doing to bring him a black coffee and ask for your order. You said the same.
“Really?” he asked.
“Really what?”
“Black?”
“If it’s hot. If it’s iced I like it light and sweet.”
He repeated it back to himself like a grocery list. You knew he would remember it years from now if asked.
“Do you know what you’d like to eat?”
She asked you, specifically.
“The Greek omelette."
“Sure thing.”
She turned to Andrew.
“Chips or fries?”
“Fries.”
“It’ll be right out, Pope.”
She headed straight to the kitchen.
“Just fries?” One of your brows lifted.
“She knows what I get.”
“Somehow everyone knows you but me?” You shook your head.
What came out of the kitchen for Pope was the most symmetrical turkey club sandwich you had ever seen. It was perfectly even. No meat hanging over the edges. Barely toasted. Precise cuts. Extra bacon. Fries on their own plate, presumably so they didn’t touch the sandwich.
“I got the fries in case you wanted some.” He pushed the small plate toward the center of the table.
You thought back to the men who knew his voice in the parking lot on the night you met. He was known here too with no fear- just respect. You weren’t sure if you should be worried. But you’d been alone with him 3 times now, and he never made you feel anything less than safe.
He asked where you grew up and how you chose nursing. He told you about his family. His recollection colored your opinion of them. Deran had been the one to greet you. Craig had joined in the bullshit that was happening behind your back earlier. Andrew was relieved that Baz had not been around.
He sat silent and lost in thought for a long moment. A memory had taken over. You let him work through it watching all the small expressions his face made until he blurted out, “You don’t already have a boyfriend, do you?”
The “already” charmed you.
“No, Andrew. I wouldn’t be here if I did.”
A relieved smile crossed his face.
The two of you spent hours talking across the table. When you couldn’t stop yawning he offered to take you home or at least back to your car, still sitting in by the bar. You looked at the time.
“I’m tired but we made it this far… we can head back that way but maybe we can sit on the beach for a bit?”
“You don’t want to go home?” he questioned.
“I don’t want to leave you.”
His eyes lit up. “Let’s go to the beach. I’ve got it.”
He didn’t bother to signal for the check. He slid out of the booth and tucked a hundred dollar bill under his coffee mug. He made his way toward the door, nodding to each employee as he passed and held the door open for you. His hand rested heavier on your back as you walked out.
He drove back and parked near your car. You had a beach towel in the back- this time the hatch lifted silently. Your shoes were kicked off the moment you hit the sand. His eyes swept for anything that might hurt your feet. The towel was spread out close to the water but not close enough to meet a wave. The scent of sunscreen and tanning oil wafted up from its cotton stitches.
You had seen enough in Andrew’s body language to know that he was careful with his hands and avoided touching things unnecessarily so you led by example. As he settled down next to you, you rested your head against his shoulder.
“Do you mind?”
“No,” he whispered back as you stared at the black ocean. You heard him swallow hard, and he put his chin on the top of your head. He gathered his courage and pulled his arm out to wrap it around you, pulling you closer so your head rested on his chest. His heart beat quickly under your ear.
“You sure?” you teased, tapping his chest. He was every inch a grown man, but something in him was sweet and nervous. You wanted to be safe for him.
“It’s hard when things aren’t familiar to me but… I want to be familiar with you.”
A small whine died in your throat. His 5 o’clock shadow tickled you gently as his chin grew heavier on the top of your head.
You found his hand resting on your hip, and he laced your fingers together. He never got around to letting it go. He seemed to hold it for days straight after that.
In your chaotic lives, you had each other. Breakfast after your shift, dinner before. Movies. The beach. Just driving. Anything you could do to be together. He was your plus-one to a work dinner. You had your first Cody Family House Party coming up. You fell asleep on his shoulder during a movie. He refused to move. You woke up halfway through the next showing. The staff swept around his feet.
Every so often he would disappear for a few days, but he always checked in. You asked if he was busy with work.
“A job… yeah,” he said, combing his fingers through his curls while refusing to meet your eyes.
By now he always had a hand on you. He stared down any man who came too close to you. You began to feel the high of being untouchable. When you sat at the bar everyone knew you belonged to him.
-----
Work kept you busy, but there were still too many hours without him. You would wake after dreaming of him and ache. Andrew was handsome and intense. His arms barely fit in his shirt sleeves. His eye contact knocked you over. You wanted him, and you had to make yourself very clear.
It was family dinner at the Cody House and your first time meeting Smurf. The boys were trying to get Andrew drunk before dinner was on the table. He was tipsy and starting to loosen up. He sat so he could keep his left hand on your thigh and eat with his right. He wasn’t even groping. Just resting there. He was relieved that Baz had been out of town with some girl the family didn’t like. Smurf grilled you about your career and your upbringing. “Did you ever plan to move back home… Oh, your brother is a cop… you must work quite a lot…” She was smooth and sweet on the surface, but you instantly distrusted her. She watched the two of you for hours. You had no idea what she was looking for. The two of you were affectionate but appropriate for being around family. You were happy. Neither tried to control the other. You were comfortable. That’s exactly what she feared.
You reached to touch his chest as you asked, “Andrew, do you need a refill?” pointing to his plate
It was like a record scratch in a movie. Everyone turned to look at Smurf. Her face was ice cold. She looked at you and then stared at Andrew.
“Cute,” she sneered at him. No one spoke for the longest time. Even when they did, the tone of the conversation wasn’t right.
Deran found time to explain that no one called him “Andrew” but Smurf. And even then it was only to “keep him in line.” He gave you the simple warning to just watch your step around her.
Family dinner turned into 50 strangers piling into the Cody property and, as news of “Pope’s new girl” spread, they were wishing you luck in the few moments Andrew left your side. Everyone came with a warning about Smurf. Pope had been alone for years rather than upset her. She had her claws in those boys, and she would rather them dead then out of her control. She didn’t mind the handful of girls hanging around the other boys. You were the only one who posed a threat.
It was intimidating, and a smarter woman would have run. But you knew you wouldn’t.
You went looking for him and found J and his friends heckling Andrew by the pool.
“How long are ya gonna let her drive around in that shit hatchback?”
“She’s not gonna let me get her a car. I would.”
“So what is she spending your money on?”
“She doesn’t take my money. She doesn’t want it. She’s like… she’s like a real person. She likes her job. She takes care of herself.”
“She’s gonna want something. A ‘real person’ isn’t going to hang around for your sparkling personality, Pope. You’re gonna have to do something to keep her around. What does she want you for?”
“Yeah?” He slurred.
“Yeah. Girls, man.”
His head dropped. Your heart broke.
You wanted to get him out of the situation. Unsure now of what to call him you shouted over the music…
“Hey! Cody!”
Four heads turned.
“No, no. The one with the arms.” You held your hands out around an imaginary bicep. “Pope, I wanna head out. Come home with me?”
“Oooooo,” the boys hooted.
He jumped up and hurried to your side. Your arm slung low around his hips; his arm heavy on your shoulders.
He let you drive his truck.
The whole ride home one hand was in your hair and the other between your thighs. More of a grope this time. You saw on his face when he noticed you had skipped underwear.
You pulled down the block and into the spot that no neighbors dared to take anymore.
“Don’t move,” he said.
You turned off the engine as he stepped out of the truck. Andrew crossed around the back very clearly doing his natural security sweep as he came around and opened your door. Climbing out was significantly harder for you since the truck was so high.
“I have to plan this,” you said as you considered the running board versus jumping straight to the blacktop.
“No, you don’t.” He reached his arms toward you and flicked his hands toward his chest. You stood and shifted your body halfway out the door. He put one hand on either side of your waist and pulled you down to stand in front of him.
You smiled and took his hand to lead him into your apartment. You heard the truck lock behind you.
Once inside you kicked your heels off and tossed your purse on the table.
“Make yourself at home!” you called to him as you got him water from the kitchen. “You know your way around.”
He circled the room and sat on your sofa. You loved when you saw his shoulders drop and his breathing slow. You sat close to him, bare feet tucked under you.
“You’re so pretty. So pretty.”
“You’re sweet.” You moved closer.
“You were so pretty tonight. And so good. You’re so good. And not scared, right?”
“Maybe of Smurf a little bit.”
“I know. I know. But she’s mom. She’s my mom.” He blinked slowly at you. He’s still buzzed, but you know it won’t last much longer. He sobers up quickly when he needs to lock in.
You propped your chin on the heel of your hand and slid closer. Your elbow now behind his shoulder. His hand, as always, in your lap with his thumb rubbing your skin in tight circles.
“Hey, how drunk are you right now?”
“How drunk do you want?” He was dead serious.
“Enough that you’ll tell me the truth even if it’s hard?”
He sobered instantly and looked down at his hands.
“What do you want to know?”
“Do you want to be with me?”
“Every minute.”
“I… wow… okay. No. I mean…”
He rolled his neck. His hands flexed.
You continued, “Do you… not want to sleep with me?”
“I do.”
“Why haven’t…”
"I don’t know how to be with someone I like.”
“Andrew…”
“I don’t know how to be with someone I love.”
“Baby, I love you too.”
His eyes dove back into yours, bigger than you had ever seen them.
“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”
“I’d never lie to you.” Your free hand met his on your lap.
“It’s too much to feel.” His eyes were wet.
“I know.” You combed through his curls and settled on the back of his neck. “Tell me.”
“You want the truth? I’ve hurt people. I’ve done things I can’t forget. Things I could never tell you. I’ve fucked women I hated. I’ve never fucked someone because I needed them. Never because I wanted them to be happy. I take. I don’t give. I never cared how they felt.” His voice was thick. “I care how you feel.”
Your eyes were wet, and your heart pounded out of your chest. You slid onto his lap straddling him slowly.
“Andrew, I need you. I want to make you happy. And I care how you feel.”
With your hands on his face you leaned in and kissed him. It took him one long moment to catch up and then he was consuming you like you were keeping him alive.
Both of his huge hands were up your dress and locked on your hips. You started working his shirt open. Your body already moved in the rhythm it craved against his jeans.
It was gloriously unfair that in one quick move he had you completely naked. He broke from your mouth long enough to look down at your body and moaned.
“You feel so small. Honey, I mean it. I don’t… ”
“Give me your hand,” you commanded.
He removed one hand from your hips and held it in front of you. You didn’t realize how tightly he was holding you until he let go. You turned his palm down and slipped one of your fingers between two of his. Pressing the pad of your fingers against his palm you made a beckoning motion against his rough palm.
“Start with this,” you told him.
He nodded.
“You notice everything. You’ll find what you’re looking for,” you said as you guided his hand between your legs, lowering yourself onto his thick fingers. “I promise I will tell you exactly what I need. Trust me to tell you the truth?”
His mouth was on yours again.
His fingers were a stretch. The slight burn was delicious as he filled you up. You tried to stay still as he explored you. He felt deeper until you made a sound he didn’t recognize.
“Is that…” His brows knit together.
“Yes. Mmmph, yes! It’s a good noise.”
You put both hands in his hair and kissed him. He reached for your breast and rolled a nipple eliciting another new sound from you.
“Ahh! Yes! That’s it,” you whined. “I’m gonna meet you down here.”
You put your fingers in your mouth wetting them just enough and brought them down to your clit. You drew circles as you rode his fingers.
“Here,” you said, encouraging him to take your nipple in his mouth. He was so hard beneath your hips.
“Andrew, baby! God! You’re doing so good! Tell me you love me again?”
“I love you. More than anything.”
You were dripping onto his jeans as you fucked yourself with his fingers.
You clung to his neck bringing your beating hearts together as you came. You were louder than you should have been. Screw the neighbors. Andrew Cody completely unraveled you, and you couldn’t hold back.
You slowly came back down to earth, panting on his shoulder.
“That was real?” he whispered in your ear. “You’re beautiful.”
You giggled softly and went back to kissing him. His fingers were still in you. He never stopped stroking your g-spot as he spoke.
“Tomorrow, sweetheart, we go out. I want to take you shopping. We could look at cars.”
“Baby, you’re sweet. I just want you.”
“I have to give you more.”
“You don’t have to give me anything.”
“How do I keep you?” It came out of him involuntarily, and your heart broke again.
“What?”
“J said…”
“Stop. Stop. Stop,” you told him as you pulled yourself off of his fingers. He frowned.
“J is a natural born asshole. Don’t listen to him. Ever.”
He laughed quietly.
“I’m serious. Is J happy?”
“Not really.”
“And… are you happy?”
“Here. With you.”
“That’s the ballgame. You win.”
He sighed contentedly.
“Now that we’ve settled that… there’s some other tension to diffuse,” you said with your forehead touching his.
You shimmied back far enough to undo his pants and pull his cock out. You knew it would be big but it was heavier than you expected.
“Oh, shit,” you gasped.
“You okay?”
“I’m… I’m fine. I just imagined… but I wasn’t actually prepared.”
“You imagined me?”
“Since we met.”
“Fuck, baby.”
He stared at his cock in your small hands. You watched as his mind locked down. You’d seen memories and intrusive thoughts cage him in before; usually you let him work his way out at his own pace…
“Andrew…?”
He sniffed. “This doesn’t always… work.”
A dozen vague stories from his childhood and prison sentence flooded your mind.
“Right. Okay. Do you want to stop? That’s fine.”
“I just don’t want to disappoint you,” fell from his lips in a whisper.
You pressed his glossy hand to your chest. He felt your heart was still thumping wildly.
“This heart is never disappointed by you.”
You pumped his length with your hands. He was throbbing for you. Slowly you lowered yourself onto his cock. Inch by inch stretching you again. You yelped. Concern spread over his face.
“It’s just… a lot. I need a minute.” You picked yourself back up, unintentionally teasing his swollen head.
“I’ve got you.”
He held you steady and slid you down slower than before until you took as much of him as you could.
“I want you. I love you. I’m yours,” you whispered as you began to rock back and forth on him.
Whimpers came from his lips and creamy, wet sounds came from yours.
If you were honest with yourself, you would admit it was a power trip. “The scariest man in Oceanside” was helpless under you. Completely willing and undone. Eyes closed. Breath ragged. Fingers leaving purple kisses.
You finally released all tension in your legs to bottom out so you could grind your clit against him. His eyes snapped open. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your face into neck.
It didn’t take long- you knew it wouldn’t. Weeks of yearning burst out of him. He locked his arms around you so tightly you couldn’t breathe as he gave in to his need to fuck up into you.
“Good, baby! So good!” you encouraged him.
He filled your ear with grunts and growls. You couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying, but you were sure he was giving himself permission to feel pleasure. He whispered, “I love her’ to some unseen demon as he came inside you. It stitched your heart back together.
He continued to thrust up into you long after he finished. As his body leveled out he stayed still inside you. Finally, his grip loosened, and he allowed you to lean back.
“You okay?” you asked each other unison.
“Yeah,” you cooed, slowly getting back on your feet. His cum already dripping out of you. You looked down at his lap.
“Shower? You hate a mess.”
“This isn’t a mess. It’s us.”
Afterward, your warm bodies were wrapped in cool sheets. The fan hummed gently in the corner.
“I love you.”
“I love you. I want you to be happy,” you whispered back in the silence.
And he was gone. This was the deepest sleep you’d ever seen since he had the flu. His body still reacted to yours as your head found that spot between his shoulder and his chest that you loved.
He stopped going home. You were home. His room at Smurf’s house was practically empty. His own apartment was just a closet.
andrew cody who sneaks into the bathroom after staying over at your place to brush his teeth with his finger as usual and spots an unfamiliar green toothbrush in the little cup where your purple toothbrush has always sat. his throat immediately gets tight. he didn’t realize you were seeing other people. he certainly isn’t. and in a moment of hurt more than anger he grabs the green toothbrush and walks back out to your bedroom.
“what is this?” andrew says, holding up the toothbrush, as you rub your eyes and roll towards him with a groan.
“mm… good morning,” you hum, trying to wake up, “toothbrush,”
“whose toothbrush?” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you, trying not to sound desperate.
“yours,” you say, voice still scratchy with sleep.
“this isn’t mine,” andrew says.
“well, i guess technically not yet, yeah,” you sigh, sitting up and shifting closer to him, placing a soft kiss on his cheek, “you gotta use it first,”
andrew just sort of stares blankly at you and you finally wake up enough to catch on to what’s happening in that head of his.
“i got it for you,” you say, threading your fingers through his curls which have fluffed up with sleep, “for when you stay here,”
“you got this for me?” andrew blinks at you.
“well, i know it’s not the most romantic gift,” you smile, placing a kiss on his shoulder, exposed by his muscle tee, “but i thought it might be nice,” you mumble against his skin.
andrew drops the toothbrush on the bed next to him and takes your face in his hands, kissing you sweetly. you giggle against his lips, pulling yourself closer to him.
“thank you,” he says your name tenderly, forehead resting against yours.
“you’re so sweet,” you say, placing another quick kiss on his lips, “it’s just a toothbrush,”
“no- it’s-” andrew sighs trying to collect his thoughts, “it’s just nice that you thought of me,”
“well, i think about you a lot,” you smile.
“yeah?” he says, a blush spreading across his cheeks.
“mhm,” you nod before leaning forward, peppering kisses to his neck softly, “i like you,” you murmur between kisses.
andrew sighs, his eyes fluttering closed, god he likes you so much. in a little burst he grabs you by your hips, lifting you around his waist as you grab the back of his neck with a giggle. he stands, swiping his toothbrush from the bed, carrying you to the bathroom.
“andrew,” you squeal, “what are you doing!”
“i gotta try out my new toothbrush,” he says, placing you gently on the counter next to the sink. he stands between you legs as the two of you brush your teeth, giggling and exchanging minty kisses. you both rinse, smiling almost shyly at one another before he passes you a little hand towel to wipe your mouth with.
“so…?” you say, resting your hands on the edge of the counter, leaning towards him, “i’d like the review for your new toothbrush,”
andrew just smiles at you, pushing further between your legs, resting his hands on your waist. he places a soft kiss on your lips, your mouths moving together slowly. he pulls you closer with a sharp tug, slipping his tongue past your lips, the sharp sweetness of peppermint dancing in your mouths.
